Archive of Our Own

--dame, "second chance"

He stands in a field with his eyes closed. In his mind he pictures long stalks of grass swaying gently in the wind, interspersed with clumps of flowers in all shapes and colors. The sun shines high in the sky, but the breeze keeps him from overheating. Birds chirp somewhere in the trees behind him, calling to each other in musical conversations.

A hand brushes against his, grabbing his fingers, lacing through them. A boy appears beside him, about his own age, with wild black hair sticking up in all directions. When he grins, it's crooked, one side of his lips tilting higher than the other.

"It's really pretty, isn't it?" the boy asks, and tugs gently on the hand in his grasp. "Come on, I'll show you the river."

"Kozume."

The boy skips ahead of him. In the long grass it's difficult to keep track of him.

"Come on, Kenma!"

Kenma's lips part, cracked and bleeding. He wants to shout, to yell for the boy to wait for him. But he's gone before he can make a sound.

"Kozume."

Kenma opens his eyes. He's still standing in a field, but it looks nothing like the one he saw in his mind. The grass is short and brown, scorched. Pieces of burnt metal, remnants of machines defeated, lay scattered across the ground. Smoke permeates the air, ash lingering in the breeze. Kenma adjusts the scarf that's tied around his mouth and nose, fighting a cough. The sun is nowhere to be seen.

Akaashi Keiji, his companion, the only company he's had for the past three months, stands at his side. He's wearing a scarf as well, though he's lowered it around his chin in order to speak. His dark hair is sprinkled with ash, turning it gray. He fiddles with his fingerless gloves, before shifting the rifle on his back by the strap around his chest.

"We need to keep moving," he says, looking vaguely apologetic for interrupting.

Kenma sighs, stooping to pick up his pack and rifle. He slings both of these over his shoulder, the weight now a familiar one against his back. He nods then, and Akaashi nods in return. He pulls his scarf back up over his face, turning toward the city. After a brief glance back at the field, Kenma follows.

It's been ten years since the war started that wrecked havoc on Japan. Technology became too advanced; man's hubris became their downfall. Machines rose up against their creators, taking control. Pockets of resistance continue to fight, but the organization is weakened by the fact that they're spread out all over the country, and the machines' mission seems to be to keep them separated.

Kozume Kenma was sent away to live in the country when he was fourteen. Cities were the easiest targets at the beginning, and so hundreds of thousands of children were sent to what was supposed to be a more peaceful place. He was forced to leave his family, his school, the only world he'd ever known.

He was forced to leave Kuro.

Kuroo Tetsurou, his best friend in the entire world. Really, his only friend. They'd been inseparable since the day they first found each other, and Kenma thought they'd always be together. He couldn't see a future without Kuro. He didn't want to see one without him.

Then the war forced them apart, and ten years passed.

He found Akaashi at the house he stayed at in Sendai. The other boy was quiet as well, and so they naturally gravitated toward each other, taking comfort in each others' silence and quiet understanding.

It was Akaashi who decided first that he wanted to fight back.

"They took everything from us," he whispered softly in the dark beneath the single blanket they shared. "When I'm old enough, I'm going to fight back."

The fear of losing someone else gripped Kenma tightly, making it difficult to breathe. He nodded in agreement, reaching to curl his fingers into Akaashi's sleep shirt.

At age twenty, they joined the Resistance together.

Kenma doesn't enjoy the fight. He dislikes the physical effort it takes to run and hide. He hates seeing fellow Resistance members die beside him. The first time haunts his nightmares for weeks. It was only because of Akaashi's ability to keep a level head that he wasn't killed as well when he froze on the battlefield and stared in horror at the body next to him.

After the fight was over, Akaashi grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him gently.

"Don't get attached," he told him flatly. "You can't afford to lose it out there. It's better to not feel anything."

Kozume nodded, his body in too much shock to do anything else. Since then he's done his best to harden his heart, never knowing when they'd have to bury someone else or leave behind a burnt and disfigured corpse. Akaashi himself insists on calling Kenma "Kozume," and as the years go by Kenma sees the change in him, the way he becomes more clinical, burying his emotions beneath layers of masks. Afraid that Akaashi might leave him behind if he doesn't do the same, afraid he'll become a liability, Kenma tries his best to follow suit.

And when their relationship turns physical, and they start taking comfort in each other's bodies, desperate to feel something other than the cold and the numbness of war, Kenma knows better than to talk about it.

It doesn't make him feel better about the situation, but he has to admit that it's nice to not be alone. And if this works for Akaashi, helps him feel something he apparently thinks he lacks, then he won't pick at that scab.

They only have each other, after all.

Kenma squints up at the sky, trying to catch a glimpse of the sun behind the pollution. Akaashi sits next to him, tapping in code against the side of an old radio. Kenma doesn't get his hopes up that Akaashi will reach anyone. They've been separated from their unit for three months now. The others probably think they're dead.

"It'd be easier to look for another unit at this point," he observes, eyes still trained upward.

"I suppose I can try different frequencies," Akaashi says after a moment.

Kenma hums noncommittally. They're seated behind an abandoned truck, having walked through the city for the past three hours without rest. Kenma's legs and feet ache, but he's gotten used to the pain by now. Picking up a stray piece of shrapnel, he starts to doodle in the cement powder and dust that covers the ground beneath them. He carves out two stick figures, giving the taller one a head of wild hair. His chest aches.

For the past few weeks his mind has been fixated on his childhood friend. He doesn't know why. He wishes he could stop thinking about him because it only serves to remind him how different his life is now; how different Akaashi is from Kuro.

It's not that he isn't grateful for the company Akaashi provides, the security and the strength of another weapon against the machines, but things have changed since their time in that small house in Sendai. Kenma barely recognizes Akaashi these days.

Suddenly, he feels Akaashi grow very still beside him. Kenma freezes as well, his breath catching in his throat. He sets down the piece of metal in his hand and slowly reaches for his gun.

He hears it now. A whirring noise high above them. Akaashi flattens himself on the ground, rolling beneath the truck. Kenma does the same, squeezing his eyes shut to avoid getting any dust or dirt in them. He holds his scarf against his mouth, trying to keep his breathing and heartbeat calm and even. Beside him, Akaashi does the same. Their bodies are pressed close together. Kenma wonders if Akaashi can feel his tremors.

The whirring grows louder until it seems to hover directly above the truck. Kenma finds himself holding his breath. Akaashi curls his hand tighter around his rifle. After a moment though, the sound shifts, fading away into the distance. Kenma breathes, gasping quietly. Neither of them moves, however, until Akaashi gently nudges him and crawls out from beneath the truck.

Without a word, Akaashi starts off at a jog in the opposite direction the whirring went. Kenma follows him, clutching his rifle to his chest. The scarf around his neck feels as though it's trying to strangle him, but he doesn't slow down to loosen it or take it off. Doubling over in a coughing fit from inhaling too much ash won't help Akaashi.

They come to an abandoned office building, half of it destroyed, bombed into rubble. Akaashi nimbly climbs over the debris, Kenma following suit. They duck into a doorway, moving quickly down a flight of stairs to the basement. Akaashi tries several doors before finding one unlocked. He ushers Kenma inside before following, shutting the door behind them.

It's dark in the room, but Kenma knows better than to waste battery life on their flashlights. A small part of the ceiling has fallen away, allowing some light to make it through, though not much.

Kenma stands in the center of the room, holding himself tightly. Akaashi gives him a quick onceover.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice dull.

Kenma nods.

"That was too close," Akaashi murmurs, moving to check the hole. Apparently satisfied that nothing can get through without breaking anything, he turns back around. "We need to be more careful."

Kenma wonders if this means more time underground. He sinks to his knees, and after a moment Akaashi kneels in front of him. As Kenma's eyes adjust to the dark, he sees a slight change in Akaashi's expression. He reaches out to pull Kenma's pack and gun off his shoulder.

"You should rest," he says. "I'll take first watch."

Kenma nods, grateful. He lies down, using his pack as a pillow, and Akaashi studies him for a moment longer. His hand moves once more, tugging down Kenma's scarf before removing his own. Briefly, Kenma wonders if Akaashi is going to kiss him. But then he tells himself that's stupid, because they never kiss. Not on the mouth, anyway.

In a surprisingly tender gesture, Akaashi brushes some of Kenma's hair away from his face. Kenma tries not to feel self-conscious at the state of it, at how grimy and disgusting he's gotten over time.

"Next time we find running water, after we fill our thermoses we're bathing."

Kenma blinks. Akaashi never suggests doing anything that's not absolutely necessary.

"Is it that bad?"

"Yes. You reek. We both do."

Kenma wrinkles his nose. "Okay."

Akaashi pulls his hand away, turning to sit against the wall in a place where he can watch both the door and the hole in the ceiling. Kenma watches him for a moment, studying the tense line of his jaw from what he can see in the dark.

He wants to reach out to him. He wants to curl around him and hold him, comfort him in a way more than just the carnal act of sex. But he knows Akaashi will push him away if he tries. So in the end he sighs and turns over, his back facing his companion, and closes his eyes to sleep.

They lie low for a few days, rationing their food and water, fucking occasionally when Akaashi's in the mood. Kenma says nothing; he follows Akaashi's lead. He enjoys the act for what it is, takes pleasure in the sensations, and says nothing about the hollow ache in his chest when Akaashi puts his clothes back on immediately afterwards and moves away.

Maybe it's pathetic to feel this way. Maybe it would be better to shut down completely. Kenma tries. He tries to turn off the parts of his brain that make him feel this way. But in the end all he feels is numb, and that's almost worse.

Is this how Akaashi feels all the time? Why does he do this to himself?

He knows why, though, and the knowledge just makes him sad.

They start walking again on the fourth day, running low on food and water so shifting gears to seek out rations instead of a unit. They traverse silently, always silently, each keeping an ear and an eye out for drones. Kenma knows he's lucky to have Akaashi around; that without him he'd most likely be dead by now.

But it doesn't stop him from wishing he could reach out and take his hand every once in a while.

Akaashi stops abruptly, holding his arm out to keep Kenma from advancing. He does, and after a moment he hears it: an explosion, coming from the right a few streets down. He hesitates, wondering if they're going to investigate or avoid it altogether.

Akaashi stands still, frowning faintly as their options go quickly through his brain. Explosions rarely happen for a reason. The machines never attack unless they catch sight of a human. So there must be more humans close by. People.

As a child, Kenma disliked being around people. Now, however, he finds himself turning toward the noise. Akaashi grabs hold of his arm, gripping tightly.

"We don't know who they are," he says in a low voice.

Kenma stares back at him. "It could be a unit."

"Or it could be a couple vagabonds getting into trouble. We proceed cautiously."

Kenma nods in agreement, stepping back in order to allow Akaashi to take the lead. Gripping his rifle, he advances through the rubble and debris, keeping low. His footsteps are soft, barely making a sound, as he clambers up the side of one pile. Kenma struggles to do the same, careful with where he sets his feet and grabs with his hands. One mistake and they'll both have targets on their backs as well.

They peer over the top of the rubble, down into the street before them. Four drones are firing at two men who stand back to back, firing back at the machines. They switch places, circling around each other, one firing low while the other aims high. The drones maneuver around them, doing their best to avoid the shots from the men. The two on the ground do the same, and it's a strange sort of dance that's somewhat mesmerizing to watch.

The faces of the men are partially covered, but the shorter of the two has crazy black and gray streaked hair that stands up in all directions; the scarf around the lower half of his face is black. His shoulders are broad; his arms, bare thanks to the cut-off sleeves of his shirt, are tan and muscular. The taller man has black hair, flattened one side and sticking up on the other in a strange bed-head look. His scarf is red, and his body is lean. He's not showing off any muscles, but it's clear that he's strong.

There's something about this second man that strikes a chord with Kenma. It reverberates throughout his brain, echoes of far off memories lingering in the corners of his mind. He knows this man. He doesn't know how that's possible but . . . the hair, the way he stands, the way he moves . . . it's familiar to him.

Then he hears the muffled yell of the shorter man, the shout of a name.

"KUROO, LEFT!"

His blood freezes over. He stares, wide-eyed, as the taller man swivels to the left just in time to shoot down one of the drones with a perfect bulls-eye. They don't have time to celebrate, however, as the other three drones move in closer, tightening their attack zone and making it more difficult for the two to maneuver.

Kenma finds himself moving forward, his eyes fixed on the dark head of Kuroo.

Kuroo.

His Kuroo?

It couldn't be. It's impossible. And yet, there's no denying what he heard.

"Kozume, get back here," Akaashi hisses from behind him.

Kenma ignores him. He slides down the other side of the rubble pile, landing on his feet and taking off at a run. Akaashi doesn't call after him, but then again he's smarter than that. Kenma slides to a stop beside Kuroo and the other man, tossing his pack off to the side and situating his rifle in his arms.

"Need a hand?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Holy shit, where did you come from?!" the other man yelps.

"Bokuto," Kuroo shouts. "Behind you!"

Bokuto whirls around, firing at a drone that got too close. Kuroo glances down at Kenma, but if he recognizes him nothing shows in his eyes. "Are you any good with that thing?" he asks, firing at the second drone, while the third starts to close in.

Kenma turns and fires, managing to clip the drone on the side even as it swerves away.

"Okay, you're good. Keep on that one. We'll get the other two."

Kenma nods. He focuses on the drone he hit, training his weapon and taking careful aim. The drone fires at him, and he quickly ducks, rolling to the side before popping back up and firing. He manages a more direct hit this time, but it's not enough to take it down. Gritting his teeth, he tries to get within the safe zone, the small area the drones are unable to see at close-range. Bokuto and Kuroo's grunts and shouts surround him, along with the whirring of the drones, and the sound of gunfire. He's in the midst of chaos, but he does his best to tune it out.

He's always been good at tuning things out.

He fires. Bulls-eye.

The drone spirals out of control, smashing to the ground with a small explosion. He turns to the other two in time to see Kuroo finishing off his own drone. Bokuto manages to kill his directly after, and the two turn to each other with a shout of celebration, performing a rather elaborate high-five.

Kenma hangs back, feeling now as though he's intruded on something. He bites his lip beneath the scarf, moving over to pick up his pack from the ground. He mindlessly wipes dust off it, slinging it and his gun over his shoulder. The two finally break apart, turning to grin at Kenma.

"Dude, thanks for the help; you were pretty awesome!" Bokuto says, holding his hand out for a high-five.

Kenma ignores him, looking instead at Kuroo's face. His eyes squint slightly, an indicator of the smile he's no doubt sporting behind his own scarf. Kenma has to resist the urge to reach over and snatch it off his face to see if it's still the same crooked one from their childhood.

"Yeah, thanks. I'm Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou. This is Bokuto Koutarou. And you are . . .?" Kuroo holds out his hand, tilting his head to the side.

Kenma wets his lips to speak, though his heart is pounding in his throat. Before he can answer, however, Akaashi appears at his shoulder.

"Kozume," he says flatly.

Kenma winces inwardly. He turns to Akaashi, about to explain, but this time it's Kuroo who interrupts him.

"Kozume?" Something's shifted in his tone. There's disbelief tinged with something else. Hope?

"I-I—"

Kuroo reaches out abruptly and yanks down Kenma's scarf. Kenma flinches, his gaze dropping to the ground. But Kuroo takes his chin, his touch feather-light, and lifts it until their eyes meet. He pulls down his own scarf, and Kenma sees his full face.

It's leaner than he remembers. Older. But of course it would be; it's been ten years. Kenma can see years of struggle and pain behind those eyes, in the lines of his features. But as he looks at him now, those eyes widen into an expression of wonder and pure joy. Kenma's heart starts beating faster before he can stifle the sudden warmth bubbling through his chest.

"Kenma?"

"Kuro," is all he can murmur before he's being pulled into Kuroo's chest.

He stands stiffly in the embrace at first, startled and unsure of what to do. He hasn't been hugged in years. He can't remember the last time he was. Slowly, his arms come up to wrap around Kuroo's waist, holding him back. He curls his fingers into the back of Kuroo's jacket, gripping tightly. The stench of sweat and smoke lingers on him, but Kenma knows he probably doesn't smell much better. He doesn't care. It's Kuroo. It's his Kuro.

"When they took you away, I thought I'd never see you again," Kuro murmurs into his hair. "I cried for days . . ."

Kenma doesn't know how to respond. His chest aches. He buries his face deeper against Kuro's chest. He doesn't move, not even when the silence grows tense, and Akaashi clears his throat impatiently.

"Kuroo! Dude! Introduce me!" Bokuto tugs at Kuro's shoulder until the two pull apart.

"Oh, right, sorry. Bo, this is Kenma. He was my best friend back when I was a kid." Kuroo rests his hand on the top of Kenma's head, ruffling his hair gently.

Kenma ducks away with a small frown, trying to keep his blush from being obvious. Akaashi frowns, glancing between him and Kuro. Kenma chews on his lip, stepping closer to Akaashi, his emotions a whirlwind. He hasn't felt so much in a long time, and it's overwhelming. His skin feels tingly, and his chest shivers with each breath. Coughing, he pulls his scarf back up over his face.

Kuro looks at him with concern. "Are you okay?"

"He's fine," Akaashi says. "Who are you exactly?"

"I'm . . . Kuroo Tetsurou," Kuro says, at a loss.

"Yes, you said. What unit are you with? Do you have a base stationed nearby?"

"I'm sorry, and you are . . .?"

"Akaashi."

The two wait for a given name that never comes. An awkward silence descends, until Kuro clears his throat, glancing back at Bokuto before answering Akaashi's earlier question.

"We have a place. There's an apartment building a couple miles from here. We were able to set up a generator and the water was never turned off so it's still running. We were out searching for some more fuel when those things found us."

Kenma perks up at the mention of running water. He turns to Akaashi, eyes pleading. Akaashi looks back at him, gaze softening just slightly. But it's enough of an answer for Kenma to turn back to Kuro and Bokuto with a tiny grin.

"Take us there," he says, more of a command than a request.

Kuro grins back at him. "Absolutely," he says, holding out his hand.

Bokuto doesn't seem to have any misgivings about allowing two strangers into their place, and as Kenma takes Kuro's hand, Bokuto and Akaashi fall into step behind them.

"This is so crazy," Kuro says, shaking his head. He continues to glance down at Kenma as they walk, his eyes still shining. "To think after all these years we'd find each other again . . . it's like fate or something."

Kenma's heart pounds faster at these words. He looks down between them, at their hands joined together. He remembers his vision of the field of tall grass and wildflowers, and he tightens his grip.

"How are you? Are you really okay?" Kuro asks, lowering his voice.

Behind them, Bokuto is trying to engage Akaashi in conversation, receiving only monosyllabic responses for his effort.

"I'm fine," Kenma says quietly.

He doesn't say, Now that you're here.

The place Kuro spoke about is an apartment complex. For a moment Kenma stares, unable to believe that such a place still exists. The building stands untouched within a circle of a demolished neighborhood, like an oasis in a desert.

"Pretty impressive, right?" Bokuto chirps, apparently giving up his attempt at conversation with Akaashi and hopping forward. "We found it about a month ago and claimed it for ourselves. Not many drones come out this far from the city, so it's usually pretty quiet."

"You don't get raiders?" Akaashi asks.

"You two are the first people we've seen since we got here," Kuro admits gravely.

Kenma gives his hand a gentle squeeze.

They're led up to the fifth floor of the building (a good vantage point, Bokuto points out), into a two bedroom apartment. Kuro tells Akaashi and Kenma they can shower first, and Kenma sprints off to the bathroom before Akaashi can move. He feels somewhat bad about it, but he can't wait to get out of his disgusting clothes and be clean.

The water is cold, but he doesn't mind. There's a bar of soap, and he scrubs himself down until his skin is red and it tingles. He washes his hair over and over until it the water finally runs clear off his head, and it's only when he starts shivering that he turns off the shower.

He's not looking forward to putting his filthy clothes back on, but as he dries himself off, he hears a knock at the door.

"I'm leaving you some of my clothes out here," Kuro calls. "They'll be big on you but they're clean."

Kenma waits until he hears him walk away before opening the door slightly and snatching up the clothes. The pants won't stay up around his waist, so in the end he pulls on a pair of boxers (rolling the waistband a couple times so it fits), and slips on the t-shirt. It hangs loosely on his torso, but it's soft and better than anything he's worn in months. He lifts the collar to sniff at it, trying to catch Kuro's scent, but it just smells like detergent.

He gathers up his other clothes to wash later, stepping out of the bathroom then and looking around for a place to put them. Kuro and Bokuto are seated on the couch, feet propped up on the coffee table in front of them. Akaashi is standing off to the side, and he moves toward the bathroom once he sees Kenma. He stops to appraise him for a moment, nodding his approval.

"Oh, you can put those over there," Kuro says, noticing him. He gestures to a pile of clothes against a far wall. Kenma steps over to dump his in with the rest, keeping the pants, however, and going over to hand them to Kuro.

"They didn't fit," he told him.

"Sorry about that," Kuro says, taking the pants back. "We'll do laundry tomorrow so you can wear your own clothes."

Kenma nods, moving to sit on the floor then, bringing his knees to his chest and pulling the shirt over them. He shivers, still chilled from the shower, and Kuro looks down at him with some concern.

"You don't have to sit down there," he says, patting the spot beside him on the couch.

Kenma hesitates, glancing from Kuro to Bokuto and back again.

"We don't bite, I promise," Kuro says with a crooked grin.

At the sight of it, Kenma's heartbeat quickens. Standing slowly, he makes his way over and gingerly sits beside Kuro, pulling his legs up to sit in the same position he was in before. Kuro's watching him, his gaze traveling over Kenma's features closely. Kenma keeps his eyes on his knees, trembling.

"Here," Kuro says, pulling a blanket off the back of the couch and wrapping it around Kenma's shoulders.

Kenma pulls it closer around him, coughing into his fist briefly. Kuro nudges Bokuto and looks pointedly toward the small kitchen a few feet away. Bokuto nods, standing and making his way over. He comes back with a glass of water, which Kenma takes gratefully.

"This feels so surreal," Kuro admits, still staring at him.

Kenma blinks over at him.

"I mean, I can't believe you're really here. Do you know how many times I thought about this exact scenario? Or hoped for it at least . . ."

Kenma looks away, his face feeling warm.

"Sounds like you two were pretty close!" Bokuto observes.

"I thought so," Kuro admits. "Best friends, right Kenma?"

"Yeah," Kenma agrees softly. Only, it was more than that . . . wasn't it?

"So what's up with that guy?" Bokuto asks, jerking his thumb over his shoulder toward the bathroom. "He's got like a major stick up his butt. What's the deal?"

Kenma frowns faintly. "We fought in the resistance together," he says. "He's not a bad person. He's just . . . cautious."

"Living in one's head too much can be hazardous to your health. Especially these days," Kuro muses. He rubs the side of his jaw. "Bo and I both know what that's like. Does he open up to you at all?"

Kenma shakes his head. Kuro frowns. "Do you open up to him?"

Another shake. Kuro's frown deepens. "Does he take care of you at least?"

Kenma nods. "We take care of each other," he says. "He's saved my life more times than I can count. I do the same for him. We're—" He stumbles over the word 'friends,' because he's not quite sure they are friends. Once upon a time he would have instantly described them as such, but these days . . .

"Partners," he finishes, his heart heavy in his chest.

Bokuto and Kuro exchange a look that Kenma doesn't understand. He feels tired, his limbs heavy. He's not sure if he should wait for Akaashi, or ask if he can go to bed. Kuro notices his fatigue, however, and touches his shoulder gently. "You should get some rest. The second door at the end of the hall leads to a bedroom. We haven't used it, so you and Akaashi are welcome to stay in there."

Kenma doesn't miss the implications of that, but he's too tired to sort through his emotions. He stands, teetering some, as he makes his way down the hall. The bedroom holds a queen-sized bed and side table, with a dresser off to the side. He shuffles over to the bed and throws himself down on one side. He slips beneath the covers, burying his face in the pillow. He's dimly aware of Akaashi joining him at one point, but the other man keeps to his side of the bed and doesn't say anything.

Kuro has breakfast ready for him and Akaashi the next morning. It's just slightly stale toast and instant ramen, but it's a better meal than they've had in days. Bokuto asks questions while they eat, curious about where they've come from and what they've been doing all these years. Akaashi's friendlier this time, and though his answers are still rather short and non-descriptive, it's more than what he gave the previous day.

Kuro doesn’t ask any questions, but Kenma can tell he's listening and observing just the same.

"So what are you planning on doing now that you're separated from your unit?" Bokuto asks, as they're finishing up their meal.

"We were searching for another one," Akaashi says, setting his bowl aside. "We haven't had luck yet, unfortunately."

"You're the first people we've seen in three months," Kenma adds. He's still in Kuro's clothes from the night before, and he tugs on the collar, pulling it up from where it keeps slipping down his shoulder.

"I'll start the laundry soon," Kuro tells him.

Kenma blinks. "Oh. Thank you."

"You should stay here with us!" Bokuto exclaims. "It could be fun! Four dudes living together, hanging out."

"Don't you want to find more people too?" Kenma asks.

Bokuto shrugs. "We've been talking about it."

"One of these days we're going to run out of fuel and supplies and we'll have to keep moving," Kuro says, putting the dishes away. "But it's been nice to have a place to rest after being on the run for so long."

"We were Resistance fighters too," Bokuto says with a nod. "That's how we met!"

"Our unit . . . didn't make our last raid," Kuro says, his eyes on the plate he's rinsing. "We're the only two left."

Bokuto's countenance droops. He nods, scuffing his hand through his hair, which is down today. "It's my fault," he says morosely.

"Bo . . ." Kuro speaks softly, his voice a gentle reprimand. He steps over to take Bokuto's shoulder in his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

Kenma's heart squeezes with it. Bokuto looks back up at Kuro with such grateful affection, it makes his chest ache.

Abruptly he stands. "Excuse me," he murmurs, hurrying quickly toward the bedroom. He sits on the edge of the bed, grabbing a pillow and hugging it to his chest. He's not sure why he's so upset, but seeing Kuro and Bokuto so . . . close . . .

There's a soft knock at the door, and Kenma presses his chin into the pillow. A moment later the door opens, and Akaashi steps through.

"You're upset," he gathers. "Why?"

Kenma shrugs, his eyes on the floor.

"We should leave tonight. It's better to keep moving," Akaashi says.

Kenma lifts his head, blinking over at him. Akaashi stares back.

"He's not the same person you knew as a child," he says, his voice flat.

Kenma frowns. "I know."

"We don't know them. Don't let down your guard."

"I just . . . thought it would be nice," Kenma admits quietly. "To rest . . ."

Akaashi gives him an appraising look. "Three days. Then we leave."

Kenma doesn't respond. Akaashi lingers a moment. Kenma bites his lip, knowing better than to expect Akaashi to move forward and comfort him. As he expected, Akaashi turns and leaves the room, shutting the door gently behind him. Kenma lies down on his side and stares at the wall.

When he closes his eyes, he sees himself as a kid. Fourteen years old, standing beside a fifteen-year-old Kuro. They're holding hands, clasping each other tightly. Their relationship has already started shifting, growing into something deeper, more meaningful. But it's still new and strange, and Kenma never knew how to address it. Now it appears to be too late.

"How long will you be gone?"

"I don't know. Until the war ends?"

Kuro makes a distressed noise. "Who knows how long that'll be?!"

Kenma doesn't know what to say to that. Neither of them knows what the future holds, they can only live in the present, and right now their present is pulling them apart.

"Don't forget about me."

Kuro turns to him with a horrified look. "I would never!"

Kenma clutches his hand so tightly, that he can feel his nails digging into the back of Kuro's hand. He doesn't protest or pull away. Instead, he shifts his body until he's standing directly in front of him, looking down at Kenma with a serious expression.

"I'll come find you," he says solemnly. "As soon as I'm old enough to travel on my own, I'm going to come get you."

Kenma scowls up at him. "Don't be stupid," he says, his voice breaking on the words. "Don't make promises you can't keep."

"I don't know what else to do!"

Kenma steps forward, and, in a rare display of affection, wraps his arms around Kuro's waist, hugging him tightly. "Just . . . stay with me until I have to go."

Kuro's arms come around him, warm and solid, and he rests his cheek against the top of Kenma's hair. "Okay," he sighs. "I'll stay."

Back in the apartment, Kenma shuts his eyes tightly, and two tears escape.

Three days pass much too quickly. Kenma spends most of his time listening to Kuro's stories. He and Bo go back and forth, animated and loud, swapping sentences and inside jokes, as they give highlights of good times that they had in their unit. It's like nothing Kenma's ever experienced. He didn't have that kind of relationship with anyone in his unit; he and Akaashi kept to themselves, keeping everyone at a distance, to avoid the pain of losing them when they'd inevitably die.

And yet here are Kuro and Bokuto, who lost their entire unit to the machines, and yet they speak of everyone with such fondness. There's sadness there too, Kenma sees it clear as day, but they're still living. They can still smile. They can still laugh.

"It's because we have each other," Bokuto says with a grin, when Kenma asks how this is possible. "Let me tell you, I'd be in pretty poor shape if it weren't for this guy." He grabs Kuro around the neck, ruffling his hair.

"Same," Kuro says, once he manages to escape.

Kenma's chest tightens, watching the two of them. He looks over at Akaashi, but he's messing with the radio again. Although he and Akaashi do have each other, in a way it feels like they might as well be strangers. Kenma wonders if Akaashi's even happy with him.

"And now I have you too," Kuro says, grinning at Kenma. "I'm really glad you're here."

Kenma's throat closes, and all he can do is nod.

He wants what Kuro and Bokuto have, he realizes. He wants that closeness, that affection. He knows he doesn't have it with Akaashi, and he's not sure if Kuro needs anyone else when he has Bokuto.

So where does that leave him?

"Wait, you're leaving?" Kuro stares down at him in disbelief, glancing between him and Akaashi.

"We have to keep moving," Akaashi says. "We're not doing any good here. We're Resistance fighters. We need to find the Resistance."

"It's only been three days," Kuro says, and he seems genuinely upset.

Kenma stares at his feet, his heart in his stomach.

"Thank you for your hospitality, but we have a job to do. We're not content to sit on our asses while others die for us."

Kuro frowns. "That's a low blow," he says, and there's a growl in his voice that causes Bokuto to glance between the two worriedly. "We're not here for nothing. We've been recovering. We needed this. And something tells me you both need it too."

"We need nothing from you," Akaashi says flatly. "We're fine on our own."

"You're not fine," Kuro snaps. "Kenma's sick. He needs more rest than just a few days."

"He's fine," Akaashi says, his volume raising.

"Did you even ask him if he wants to go?"

"He follows my lead. That's how he's managed to stay alive."

"So that justifies bossing him around."

"I'm not—"

"Kenma." Kuro turns to him, and his eyes look almost pleading. "Do you want to leave?"

Kenma stiffens, not having expected the question. Akaashi's eyes bore into the back of his skull, and he shifts on his feet, not sure what to say. Finally, he focuses his gaze on Kuro's.

"You don't need me," he says. "Akaashi does. We watch each other's backs. I'm not going to let him go out there on his own."

Kuro recoils. "What do you mean, 'I don't need you'?"

Kenma glances at Bokuto then turns his eyes to his feet. "You don't need me."

Kuro steps forward, desperation coloring his features. "Kenma . . . Kenma, I want you here. We still have so much to talk about. We've lost so many years . . . I don't want to lose you again. I'm not going to tell you to stay, I just want to know what you want to do."

Kenma's stomach is coiled in knots. He looks between Akaashi and Kuro, feeling bile rising in the back of his throat. "I-I . . . I want to stay," he admits quietly.

Akaashi huffs.

"Look, you haven't even found another unit, have you?" Kuro asks, turning to him.

"No, but the signal here is weak," Akaashi says, frowning slightly.

"Stay until you find another unit, at least. It's better than wandering around out there in the open."

Akaashi hesitates. "I'll have to go into the city daily to try and find a signal."

"We can all go," Kuro offers. "We'll have your back."

Kenma looks at Akaashi, silently pleading with him. Finally, Akaashi sighs.

"Okay," he agrees.

He's not happy about this new arrangement, however, and that night he fucks Kenma harder than usual.

He doesn't say anything, simply tells Kenma to get on his back and starts prepping him. Kenma bites his lip, his body tingling with the familiar sensations of heat, but his mind distracted by the furrow in Akaashi's brow. As he grabs Kenma's hips and positions himself, Kenma reaches out to take Akaashi's wrist.

"Are you mad at me?" he asks. "For wanting to stay?"

Akaashi looks down at him. "We had an agreement," he says, his voice calm yet masking something else. There's always that mask . . .

Kenma shakes his head. "You said three days. I never said I wanted to go. I-I like it here . . ." He turns his gaze to the side.

"With him, you mean," Akaashi assumes.

Kenma feels heat rising to his cheeks that has nothing to do with their stalled activity.

"He doesn't want you. He has Bokuto-san. They're fucking too, you know."

Kenma swallows hard. He gathered as much, but he doesn't like to think about it. He imagines it's a lot different than how he and Akaashi do it, and it makes his chest hurt to dwell on it.

"Don't get soft," Akaashi tells him. "You'll only get hurt in the end. Not caring has worked out so far, hasn't it?"

Kenma doesn't reply. He doesn't know how to explain the emptiness he feels. He doesn't know how to tell Akaashi that the kind of affection Kuro has to offer looks so much better than what he and Akaashi have. He doesn't want to be closed off anymore. He wants to feel something.

For the first time since he was twenty years old, he wants to open his heart again.

"Kozume," Akaashi says quietly. "If you let him in, whether it's intentional or not, he's going to hurt you."

People leave. People die. It can happen to anyone. It can happen to Kuro.

That's what he means, and Kenma covers his face with his arms. Akaashi's adjusts his grip on his hips.

"I'd like to finish, if that's okay."

Kenma nods, not knowing what else to do. Akaashi pushes into him. He feels the burn of the stretch, the low heat of pleasure that tingles over his skin, but he doesn't move. Akaashi thrusts hard and fast, panting, groaning softly. Kenma keeps his face hidden, his mind turning to Kuro. Does he do this to Bokuto? How different would it be underneath him?

Akaashi hits his prostate, and he muffles his cry against his forearm, biting down as the pleasure spikes through him. A couple thrusts later, and Akaashi stiffens, spilling into Kenma with a low moan. Kenma shivers at the feel of it, but he doesn't come himself. Akaashi pulls out and moves to the side.

"Do you want me to finish you off?" he asks, his voice a monotone.

Kenma shakes his head. It would be clinical, he knows. Swift and efficient. He doesn't want that. Instead, he waits until Akaashi's gone to shower before wrapping his hand around himself. He pictures Kuro again. He wonders how his hand would feel. How would he touch him? Would he be tender and affectionate? Heated and passionate? Would he hold him afterwards, wrapping his arms around Kenma's waist to pull him close?

Kenma comes into his hand with Kuro's name on his lips, and after he cleans up, he buries his face in his pillow, feeling worse.

Trips into the city to search for a signal are . . . interesting. Bokuto gravitates toward Akaashi for some strange reason, sticking close by and asking him seemingly endless questions about the radio, their unit, and Akaashi's home life from before the war. Akaashi handles the attention with grace and patience, but he still keeps himself distant, never answering any questions he deems too personal.

Bokuto's also excited to show them around the city. He becomes their unofficial tour guide, showing off all the places he deems "cool," whether it's because an "epic" battle happened there, or there's simply some drone parts he thinks look interesting.

Kuro hangs back with Kenma, apparently content to walk in silence, sometimes calling to Bokuto to add to one of his stories, but mostly grinning quietly, hands in his pockets.

"Do you still like apple pie?" he asks randomly one day.

Kenma starts, not having expected the question. "You remember that?" he asks tentatively.

"Of course," Kuro says, giving him a crooked smile. "I remember that time you had so much at your tenth birthday you got sick. Your mom and I thought for sure that'd put you off pie for good, but the next day you were asking for leftovers." He laughs, bright and happy at the memory.

Kenma's own lips tug slightly at the corners; a foreign sensation.

Kuro reaches over to tug gently on the ends of his hair. "I feel like I've missed so much. I tried to find you, you know."

Kenma stops dead in his tracks. "What?"

Kuro grins sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Yeah. When they evacuated the city . . . I went to Sendai to try and find you. But you'd already joined the Resistance by then, I guess. Because you weren't there."

"Why did you do that?" Kenma asks, feeling something like panic rising in him, though he's not sure why.

Kuro frowns faintly. "Because I promised that I would. Are you okay?"

Kenma struggles to breathe. He pulls the scarf down around his chin, but it doesn't help. He inhales ash and doubles over in a coughing fit.

"Kenma?!"

Kuro places his hand on his back, rubbing it gently.

"Hey! Hey! Is he okay?" Bokuto shouts from the pile of debris he's currently surveying.

"I'm-wheeze-I'm fine," Kenma manages, pulling the scarf back up over his mouth and nose.

"No, you're not," Kuro says with a frown. "How long have you been coughing like this?"

"A . . . few months," Kenma mutters.

"You shouldn't even be out here with us!"

Kenma straightens, rubbing his chest gently. He shakes his head. "Four guns are better than three," he says.

Kuro's gaze is full of worry, and Kenma takes his hand, giving it a squeeze. "I'm fine," he assures him again. "It's just a cough."

Kuro clutches his hand back tightly. "We should go back to the apartment."

Kenma shakes his head. "No. We stay until dark. That was the plan."

Kuro sighs, frustration evident in his features, but in the end he nods. "I forgot how stubborn you are," he admits.

At the end of the day, they're unsuccessful and they head home before the sun sets. On the way, Kuro stops, ducking briefly into a store and coming out with something hidden in his pocket. When Bokuto pesters him about what it is, Kuro just grins and says it's a surprise.

Back at the apartment, he pulls a PSP out of his bag and takes a pack of batteries from his pocket, handing these both over to Kenma.

"I've been carrying the PSP around for a while," Kuro admits. "I brought it with me when I went to find you. As a gift. There's only one game but . . . I figured if you still like apple pie, you might still like games."

Kenma's heart pounds faster. He quickly replaces the old batteries with the ones from the pack, starting it up with bated breath. When he sees the logo flash on the screen, he can feel himself practically vibrating with the excitement thrumming through him.

"Fuck, you're adorable," Kuro mutters under his breath.

Kenma glances quickly up at him, wondering if he heard that correctly, and Kuro flushes, turning away with his hand on the back of his neck.

"I'm going to start dinner."

While Bokuto tries to get Akaashi to tell him what hobbies he likes, entering a rather pointless game of Twenty Questions, Kenma curls up on the couch with his new gift, holding it almost reverently. It's a game he's played before, but it's been so long he's forgotten most of the play-through. He doesn't stop to eat, too caught up in the game, and in the end Kuro sits next to him and feeds him.

"Just like I remember," he says fondly.

Kenma ignores him.

Kuro remains at his side after dinner, apparently content with watching him play. Kenma leans against him slightly, grateful for the warmth and his proximity.

"Kozume," Akaashi says. "It's late. Come to bed."

Kenma ignores him as well, eyes never leaving the screen.

"Kozume."

"Let him play," Kuro says. "It's not that late."

Akaashi frowns, but after a moment he disappears into the hallway.

"I can keep you warm if you want!" Bokuto calls after him, to which he only receives the slamming of the door in response.

"Dude, just give up already," Kuro says, shaking his head. "You're not getting anywhere with him."

"I'm breaking through his shell!" Bokuto insists. "I almost got him to smile today!"

Kuro snorts. "Yeah, okay."

"I swear!"

They bicker back and forth like this, and Kenma tunes them out, focused on his game until his eyes start to droop, and his thumbs move sluggishly over the buttons. Kuro snatches the console out of his grasp then, despite Kenma's tired protests.

"Nope. Bed," he says, pointing. "You can have this back in the morning."

Kenma grumbles, but he stands and makes his way to the bedroom. He is tired, so much so that he doesn't realize Akaashi's awake until he asks,

"Did you enjoy yourself?"

Kenma pauses before answering, unable to tell if he's being facetious or not. "Yes," he says finally.

"Don't get too comfortable."

That's all he says, before he turns over and presumably falls asleep. Kenma remains awake for a while longer, the warmth from earlier fading to a cold sense of dread.

People leave. People die.

Kuro might leave. Kuro might die.

But then again, he might not.

"You won't tell me your name; you won't tell me where you came from. It's been weeks, and all I know about you is that you're a fighter with the Resistance, you're twenty-three years old, and you like onigiri. Oh! And that your family name is Akaashi. That's all!"

Akaashi ignores Bokuto's ramblings, focused on turning the dials of the radio back and forth, tapping the Resistance code on each frequency. Kenma's seated on some debris, his game in his hand, with Kuro reclining beside him. He appears to be napping, but from the subtle shifts in his expression, it's clear he's listening in, same as Kenma.

"I just don't get it. We're all stuck out here together; we might as well get to know each other, right?"

Akaashi sighs, finally looking up at the other man. "And what would be the point of that, Bokuto-san?" he asks dully.

Bokuto blinks at him in astonishment. "To be friends, of course!"

"Friends . . ." Akaashi ponders this a moment before returning to the radio. "No, thank you."

Bokuto sputters. "Why not?! You're friends with Kenma!"

Akaashi's hands falter on the radio dial. "Kozume's not my friend," he says quietly.

"What is he then?" Bokuto asks, at a loss.

"We're partners. That's all."

Kuro nudges Kenma's leg gently. Glancing over, he sees Kuro watching him, his expression concerned. "Hey. You okay?"

Kenma frowns slightly in confusion. "Yes?"

Kuro studies him, but Kenma's not sure what he's looking for. He turns back to his game, realizing after a moment that Kuro had been worried about his reaction to Akaashi's words. But they hadn't come as a surprise to Kenma. He knows what he is to Akaashi. He doesn't see the point in getting upset about it anymore.

"I could be your partner," Bokuto offers. "I think we could kick ass together!"

"Considering you got your unit killed, I don't think that would be in my best interest."

"Hey," Kuro says sharply, sitting up and frowning over at Akaashi. "Don't."

Akaashi bites his lip briefly before bowing his head. "I apologize," he murmurs.

"Bo, come over here," Kuro calls, gesturing for the man to sit beside him.

He does, his shoulders slumped. "Why doesn't he like me? I haven't done anything to him."

"Akaashi doesn't care about anyone, don't take it personally," Kenma says, eyes on his game.

The other two stare at him silently for a moment. Finally, Bokuto asks,

"Why? What happened to him?"

"War happened." Kenma frowns down at his screen, doing his best to ignore the ache in his chest. "He didn't used to be like this. But after we joined the Resistance . . . he changed. I think he's scared."

"Scared?" Kuro prompts gently.

Kenma looks up at them. "Scared of losing anyone else."

Kuro tilts his head. "Are you scared of that too?"

Kenma turns his gaze back to his game. A second later, Kuro's hand is on his wrist, his warm fingers curling around it.

"You're not going to lose us," he says quietly.

Kenma shoots him a glare. "Don't make promises you can't keep," he says flatly.

Kuro's eyes widen, but before he can respond, Bokuto calls out suddenly. "Did you hear that?"

Everyone freezes, even Akaashi by the radio. Bokuto stands, pointing to the device in Akaashi's hands. "I heard something! Go back to the last channel."

Akaashi does as he says, turning up the volume as well. The four of them listen, as a tapping noise repeats in rhythm, over and over. Akaashi's eyes widen. "It's the Resistance," he says. "There's a unit in Iwanuma. I'll try to—"

A shot rings out. Akaashi leaps away from the smoking radio, as the rest of them jump to their feet. Ten drones appear from around the building, the whirring of their engines getting louder as they approach.

"Shit! Why didn't we hear them?" Bokuto yelps, scrambling for his gun.

Kenma drops his game, grabbing his own rifle, as Kuro positions himself beside him.

"Stay close to me," he says, eyes on the drones.

Another shot fires from the closest one, and Bokuto jumps in front of Akaashi to shield him, as the latter hurries to pick up his weapon. With a shout, Bokuto starts firing rapidly at the group. Many of his shots go wide, but several hit, and the drones waver out of formation.

Kuro tugs at Kenma's arm, pulling him around to the side.

"Surround them before they can surround us!" he shouts.

"Roger!" Bokuto calls back, remaining with Akaashi.

Kenma's heart pounds in his throat. His breath comes in wheezing gasps, but he's able to keep up with Kuro's quick strides. A couple drones notice them and turn, firing at their heels, as they scramble to stay ahead of the lasers. Turning, Kuro plants his feet and fires three shots in quick succession. One of the drones wavers, but the other spirals to the ground with a short explosion. As it does, Kenma fires at the remaining one, taking it out swiftly.

"Nice work," Kuro says, holding his hand out for a high-five, that familiar crooked grin on his face.

Kenma hesitates only briefly before slapping his palm against Kuro's. Across the way, Bokuto and Akaashi are making short work of their drones. In a similar fashion, Akaashi handicaps the machines, allowing for Bokuto to take them down one by one. They move swiftly, Akaashi helping to maneuver them into advantageous positions. Kuro and Kenma do the same, though they share the kills between them.

It doesn't escape Kenma's notice that Kuro seems to step in front of him more often than he allows Kenma to take the shot. Normally this would annoy him, but with each rapid breath Kenma grows increasingly dizzy. At one point he staggers, spots appearing before his vision, as he struggles to breathe through the scarf around his nose and mouth. That's all it takes for one of the drones to swoop in and fire. He twists away, but the shot grazes his side, and he falls with a small cry.

"Kenma!"

Fire burns along his ribs, but as Kuro kneels over him, he sees another drone drawing near. He shoves Kuro to the side, lifting his rifle to fire at the machine. It drops with a short shriek, sending more ash and smoke into the air. Kenma collapses to the side, coughing hard. It feels as though a hand has wrapped itself around his chest, squeezing mercilessly. He tears the scarf from his face, gasping, but it doesn't help.

He can hear gunfire and the whirring of the drones. He can't pass out. They're still surrounded. The others need his help! He hears Kuro's voice as though from far away, telling him to hang on.

Pulling his gun to his chest, he turns onto his back, arching it, trying to get more air into his lungs, but the air is thick with smoke and dust. He's drowning in it. The wound on his side screams with the movement.

The sound fades, and everything goes black.

He's vaguely aware of voices. They're hushed and urgent, talking over one another. It sounds like an argument, but Kenma can't make out the words. He drifts back into unconsciousness, everything dark and murky. He struggles to breathe, each inhale takes effort, and he sleeps fitfully.

When he wakes next, he's able to open his eyes. His chest still burns, but it's less painful. His side hurts, though, and when he shifts he has to bite his lip against the pain that tingles sharply out from his ribs. A hand covers his, holding it tightly.

"Try not to move."

Kenma blinks up at Kuro. He notices then that he's in his and Akaashi's bedroom back at the apartment. Kuro's seated beside him on the edge of the bed, looking down at him worriedly. Kenma licks his lips, which are dried and cracked. He winces, as his tongue scrapes against a scab where his lower lip split.

"Here," Kuro says, reaching for a glass of water on the table beside the bed. He carefully lifts Kenma's head to help him drink, and once Kenma's sipped a few times, he leans his head back with a weak sigh.

"Where's Keiji?" he asks, his voice hoarse, barely above a whisper.

"Who?" Kuro asks, worry flickering across his features.

Kenma sighs again, closing his eyes. "Akaashi."

"Oh. He and Bo went to look for some medicine or an inhaler or just . . . whatever will help you breathe easier. We didn't have anything here except to dress your wound," Kuro says, running his hand through his hair to the back of his neck. He bites his lip, looking down at Kenma. "I wanted to go, but he insisted that I stay here. He said . . . he said you'd want to see my face when you woke up."

Kenma can feel his own face heating up, and he turns his head, looking off at the wall. His chest feels strangely tight in a way that's different from how it felt earlier. It's strange that Akaashi would go off with Bokuto and risk his life to help him. Isn't he always saying "people die"?

"You know, as much as that guy likes to pretend he doesn’t care about anything or anyone, he seemed really agitated when we brought you here," Kuro comments idly. He runs his thumb across the back of Kenma's hand gently.

Kenma peeks back at Kuro out of the corner of his eyes. "He did?"

Kuro nods and gives his hand a squeeze. "You mean a lot to him, I think."

Kenma isn't sure what to do with this information. He still feels light-headed. Closing his eyes, he tries to inhale deeply, his chest shuddering. He doesn't manage to get much air, and in the end he sighs in defeat, wheezing. Kuro's grip on his hand tightens.

"As soon as you're okay to travel, I'm taking you away from this place," he says. "I know you and Akaashi have an agenda, but you shouldn't be fighting right now. You need rest and fresh air. We'll go to the country, as far away from all this as we can get."

Kenma blinks up at him. "What about Bokuto?" he asks softly.

"He can come if he wants, but honestly I think he's going to go wherever Akaashi goes. He's pretty smitten, though I have no idea why. Maybe he likes the challenge."

Kenma frowns faintly. "But . . . if he leaves, won't you be upset?"

Kuro looks down at their hands. "I'll miss him, for sure," he admits. "But, you know, I just want him to be happy. For a while I was able to do that for him, help him feel better about himself and things in general, but there's something about Akaashi that he's drawn to, and I'm not going to stand in the way of it. I've tried to tell him Akaashi isn't going to give in, but he's determined to break that man's shell. So I guess we'll just see what they say when they get back."

Kenma ponders that, not sure how he'd feel if Akaashi chose to leave him. There's a hollow ache in his chest at the thought of losing him, but as he looks up at Kuro and thinks of that field full of grass and wildflowers, he finds that he wants that more than anything. He wants to get away from all this war and suffering. He wants to stop fighting, to go somewhere safe and quiet with Kuro at his side.

That's all he's ever wanted.

"Kuro," he murmurs, drawing Kuro out of his daze.

He lifts his gaze to meet Kenma's. Slowly, Kenma reaches up with his free hand, tracing his fingers lightly over Kuro's features. He watches as Kuro's face relaxes, the furrow in his brow smoothing out, as Kenma runs his thumb along it.

"Kenma?" Kuro's voice is soft, uncertain. It sounds very unlike him, and Kenma's heart pounds faster as a result.

"You won't be unhappy with me?" Kenma asks, unsure if taking Kuro away from Bokuto is the best thing for him. It's not like he and Kuro have the type of relationship Kuro and Bokuto have. He's not sure Kuro even wants that type of relationship with him.

"What? Of course not. Why would you think that?" Kuro asks, his frown returning.

"I'm not Bokuto," Kenma says pointedly.

"Obviously," Kuro says, his lips quirking. "But who says you have to be?"

"You . . . you like Bokuto. You're . . . with Bokuto."

Kuro blinks blankly. "Uh, you mean like, sexually?"

Kenma nods, his face feeling warm.

Kuro flushes as well. "I mean, yeah but. It's not like we're exclusive or anything. We just started that as a way to comfort each other, you know? I like making him feel good, and he likes doing the same with me. You and Akaashi are like that too, aren't you?"

Kenma nods hesitantly. "But it's not the same," he adds. "You and Bokuto love each other."

Kuro tilts his head. "You and Akaashi don't?"

Kenma bites his lip. "I don't know," he admits. "I've only . . . been certain of loving one person."

"Really?" Kuro looks at him expectantly, completely clueless.

Fingers trembling, Kenma moves his hand down to Kuro's chin. He pulls on it gently, drawing him closer. Surprisingly, Kuro moves willingly, though his eyes widen. Sitting up on his elbow, despite the pain that flares across his side, he leans up in order to brush his lips against Kuro's. A weight settles on his chest, an ache, a longing he doesn't know how to describe. It presses in on him so strongly, that he wavers in the kiss and has to pull away.

Kuro's watching him, his eyes sharp with understanding. "Seriously? After all this time?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

Kenma nods, gaze skittering to the side. "I'm sorry," he says, knowing he's put Kuro in a difficult position.

To his surprise, Kuro shakes his head. "What? No, don't be sorry. Kenma . . . Kenma, do you really not know how much you mean to me? I didn't just carry around a PSP for nostalgia purposes. I meant it when I said I've been searching for you. I got sidetracked when our unit went down, but I never . . . You've always been in my heart."

Kenma can feel tears prickling at the corners of his eyes. He holds them back as best he can, lying back against the pillows and covering his face with his arm.

"Kenma," Kuro says insistently, tugging at his arm. "Kenma, look at me."

Kenma shakes his head, his breath coming in short gasps.

Kuro stops tugging, but instead he leans down, pressing his forehead against Kenma's arm.

"Kenma," he says again, his voice soft. "I love you."

He says it with such earnestness, that Kenma bites his lip to stifle a sob. How long has he ached to hear those words? To hear them now, with Kuro's lips hovering above his own, his body heat warming Kenma from the outside in, it's almost overwhelming.

"I've loved you since we were kids," Kuro continues, lacing his fingers through Kenma's hand that he still holds. "I wanted to tell you before you left for Sendai, but I didn't know how. I made that my goal, to find you again and tell you. When I saw you again, I thought I'd been given a second chance. But you were with Akaashi, and I . . . I didn't know what your relationship was like, so I didn't say anything. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable."

Kenma doesn't know what to say. The tears leak out from beneath his arm, but Kuro simply kisses them away gently before leaning back.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks.

Kenma shakes his head, the thought of Kuro leaving causing his heart to sink into his stomach. He clutches Kuro's hand tightly, lowering his arm from his face finally to look up at him.

"Stay with me," he says, speaking once more the words he said all those years ago. Only this time he doesn't mean "until I have to leave."

This time, he means "forever."

And Kuro nods, lying down on the bed beside him. Kenma keeps his hand firmly clasped in his, causing his arm to wrap around his waist. He presses his lips against Kenma's shoulder, causing him to tremble involuntarily at the gentle touch. Turning his head, he presses his forehead against the top of Kuro's head. His hair tickles his nose, but he doesn't care.

It's still difficult to breathe, but he finds that the comfort of Kuro's proximity eases some of the tightness in his chest. He's able to sleep, despite the uncertainty the future still holds.

The next few days pass slowly. Kuro dotes on him, bringing him whatever he wants, making sure he eats and drinks and dressing his wound when his bandages need changing. Kenma's grateful for everything, and he hopes he makes it known with the small touches he gives Kuro's hands and arms, and with the tiny kisses he places on Kuro's face. Kuro always seems to melt at his touch, snuggling up to him when he's not working on something.

He knows he's worried about Bokuto. He often catches him staring off at the window, as though he might catch a glimpse of him and Akaashi on the horizon. Kenma can't say he's not concerned after Akaashi's well-being also, but he knows Akaashi's strong. He's survived this long, hasn't he?

"Akaashi's quick and smart," he assures Kuro one night. He threads his fingers through Kuro's hair, as he lies with his head on Kenma's stomach. "He won't let anything happen to Bokuto."

"It's not that," Kuro admits. "I know Bokuto is good in a fight. He's proved that a hundred times over. I just . . . he gets into these dejected moods where he thinks he's worse than dirt, and I'm not sure if Akaashi will want to work with him on that. I don't like the thought of Bokuto being alone."

Kenma isn't sure how to answer. He knows Akaashi won't leave Bokuto on his own, but he knows from experience that the man isn't the best at comforting people. Still, maybe Bokuto will be the one to smash through Akaashi's walls in a way Kenma never could.

Over time, Kenma's wound heals, though it leaves a rather impressive scar. Kuro runs his thumb over the new skin gently.

"You keep saving my life," he murmurs. "And here I thought I would be the one to always protect you."

"We can protect each other," Kenma says softly, lifting Kuro's chin to kiss him briefly.

Kuro smiles against his lips, before settling down again with his head on Kenma's shoulder.

Kuro insists on going out for supplies on his own. The one time Kenma tries to follow him, he finds himself thrown over Kuro's shoulder and deposited back into the bedroom.

"I'm not a child!" he snaps irritably.

"Stop acting like one then," Kuro says, just as heatedly. "That air is toxic. It already nearly killed you. We still don't know if Bokuto and Akaashi will be able to find anything to help you breathe easier, so for now you're staying inside. That's final."

Kenma glowers, but Kuro leaves him behind anyway. Thankfully, he doesn't need to go out that often. With only the two of them there, they don't go through the supplies as quickly as they would with four people. And although Kenma knows well how to hold a grudge, he finds himself unable to stay mad at Kuro when he comes home from his trips into the city. They curl up together in bed, and Kenma strokes Kuro's hair just as he's done many times before, and the tension eases.

Then, finally, three weeks after Bokuto and Akaashi left, Kuro comes home and with the opening of the door comes a shout of, "HEY! HEY! HEY!"

Kenma scrambles out of bed. Despite his still weakened state, he runs to the front room, staring wide-eyed, as he sees Kuro standing in the doorway with Bokuto and Akaashi on either side. Bokuto's arm is looped around Kuro's shoulders, and they're both grinning. Even Akaashi looks happy, and when he sees Kenma, his lips lift into a small semblance of a smile.

"Kozume-kun," he says, and there's affection in his tone, "you're okay." He approaches carefully, lifting his hand to brush some of Kenma's hair away from his face. "I'm glad."

Kenma stares at Akaashi. "You're different," he blurts out without thinking.

Akaashi glances over his shoulder briefly, to where Bokuto has wrestled Kuro into the kitchen. "I've learned some things," he admits. "I've come to see that just because you might fear the loss of something, that doesn't mean you can't take pleasure in it in the meantime. That doesn't mean you can't be happy with what you have now."

He turns his gaze to his hands, and his fingers twist around each other absently. "I . . . haven't been very good to you. I want to apologize for that. When I saw you collapse that day during the battle . . . I was terrified. I thought I'd lost you. I realized then that despite my best efforts, I'd come to care for you. I couldn't harden my heart to you completely, I suppose."

Kenma continues to stare, wondering what in the world happened out there between him and Bokuto to influence such a drastic change. Akaashi reaches into his pack, pulling out a plastic pharmacy bag.

"We were able to find some medication at a pharmacy. There are pills you can take, as well as a few inhalers. I'm sorry it took us so long."

Kenma doesn't take the bag. Instead, he steps forward, wrapping his arms around Akaashi for the first time since Sendai. He squeezes as tightly as he can, burying his face against Akaashi's chest. Akaashi doesn't hesitate before holding him in return, though his touch is gentler, and he steps away after a moment.

"Do you forgive me for how I treated you?" he asks quietly, his fingertips glancing across Kenma's jaw in a feather-light touch.

Kenma nods, his chest too full to speak. Bokuto chooses that moment to leap on them, crushing them both in a hug that lifts Kenma off his feet briefly. He staggers once he's set down, clutching at his side, as the scar throbs gently.

"Bo! He's not fully healed yet," Kuro says, slapping Bokuto upside the head.

"I'm sorry!" Bokuto yelps. "I'm just so happy that we're all together again and getting along! This is great!"

Nobody can refute that, and before long they're all seated in the living area eating some rice Kuro found on his run. Bokuto tells them all about his and Akaashi's journey to find the medicine and how they ended up in Iwanuma.

"There really is a unit there! A giant camp, actually! They're really organized and the main leader guy, Sawamura I think his name was, he invited us to join his group!"

"It's in the city," Akaashi admits softly. "And though the pollution isn't as bad as it is here, I'm not sure it's the best place for Kozume-kun in his current state."

Kenma's heart sinks to his knees.

"So we're splitting up," Kuro gathers, glancing between the three. "Again."

Bokuto squirms in his seat. "Akaashi and I really liked it there. They're good people, and it seems like they might have a fighting chance. They've already taken control of Iwanuma, and apparently Sendai is next. This could be the start of a revolution!"

"I don't think I'd do well in the country with nothing to do," Akaashi adds. "I need to be fighting." He looks at Kenma apologetically. "I don't want to leave you again," he admits, and his voice is so uncharacteristically tender, that Kenma flushes. "But I think Iwanuma is where I need to be right now."

"Yeah," Bokuto says, nodding. "Me too. I want to keep fighting, Tetsurou. I think I need to. If I go away . . . I'm gonna keep getting stuck in my head over what happened, you know? At least this way I can make those bastards pay for what they did to our friends."

Kuro nods in understanding. "You know I'd go with you, but . . ." He looks over at Kenma, who's face continues to burn. Kuro smirks faintly, reaching over to tweak a strand of Kenma's hair. "I've got this one now, and I want to stay with him."

"Dude, I get it," Bokuto says, grinning. "And it's not like we'll be apart forever, right? This war's gotta end some day. Then me and Akaashi will come join you guys out in the country! We'll be like one big family again!"

Kenma waits for Akaashi to dispute that, to say there's no way they can guarantee such a thing, but instead he simply smiles at Bokuto, a new light in his eyes that Kenma's never seen before.

"Something happened between you two while you were gone," he says, squinting at them from behind his hair.

Surprisingly, they both blush, glancing at each other and then away. Kuro bursts out into laughter.

"You two totally fucked!" he crows.

"Shut up!" Bokuto yelps, his face beet-red.

Kenma studies Akaashi curiously. For a moment Akaashi avoids his gaze, but finally he lifts his eyes to meet his, and his lips twist into a tiny apologetic smile.

"Was it better?" Kenma asks quietly, beneath Kuro's loud congratulations, as Bokuto jumps on him to try and cover his mouth.

"It was different," Akaashi admits.

"He makes you happy."

Akaashi glances at Bokuto and Kuro, as they fall off the couch and start to roll on the floor. "Yes," he answers simply, before turning back to Kenma. "But I allowed him to. I never gave you that chance, and I do regret that. But, I think Kuroo-san is who you truly want anyway. Is who you've always wanted. Am I wrong?" He smirks, just faintly, and Kenma finds himself blushing once more.

"I would've been happy with you," he tells Akaashi sincerely.

"I know," Akaashi assures him. He leans over then and presses a small kiss to Kenma's temple. "I'm going to miss you."

A lump forms in Kenma's throat, and he can only nod in reply.

That night, Bokuto and Akaashi go into the first bedroom together. It feels strange to watch Akaashi go with someone else, but the look in his eyes is one Kenma's never seen before, and so he doesn't want to interrupt with his own thoughts on the matter.

This leaves Kuro and Kenma alone, and while this has become the norm as of late, things feel somewhat different, now that their thoughts are no longer clouded with worry for their friends.

As Kenma sits in bed, watching Kuro change, he can't help but ask, "Are you jealous of them?"

Kuro pauses with his sleep shirt halfway down his chest. He slowly lowers the hem, seriously contemplating the question. In the end, he shakes his head.

"No. No, I don't think so. It's a little weird to think Bokuto and I won't be like that anymore but, like I said before, I just want him to be happy." He tilts his head, smirking faintly. "Why? Are you jealous?"

Kenma's face and neck feel warm, and he looks away. "No," he mutters, before adding somewhat sullenly, "maybe."

"Jealous because Akaashi chose Bokuto?" Kuro asks, joining Kenma on the bed.

Kenma shakes his head.

Kuro's brow furrows in thought. "Then . . . jealous of their relationship?"

Kenma stares down at his hands. His heart stutters in his chest pathetically, and his stomach twists up into a knot.

"Kenma . . . do you want us to have that type of relationship?" Kuro asks hesitantly, and for some reason his voice sounds as nervous as Kenma feels.

"Maybe," he mumbles again, somewhat wanting to hide beneath the covers.

Kuro touches the side of his jaw lightly, lifting his head with a gentle press of his fingertips. Kenma looks back at Kuro, his heart racing faster, as Kuro leans forward and kisses him. He doesn't linger, not exactly. He pulls away, keeping his face close to Kenma's, and Kenma can taste the rice on his breath.

"I want that too," Kuro admits, grinning faintly.

That's all it takes to give Kenma the confidence he needs to fling his arms around Kuro's neck and pull him into his chest, kissing him deeply. Kuro makes a surprised noise, catching himself on his hands on the mattress beside Kenma to keep his full weight off him. He leans into the kiss, however, lips soft and pliant against Kenma's. Kenma pushes his fingers up into Kuro's hair, biting down onto his lower lip until Kuro groans and opens his mouth. Kenma slides his tongue inside then, no longer feeling the need to be cautious.

They kiss until Kenma begins to wheeze softly, and Kuro pulls away then, frowning down at him in concern. "Are you sure we should when you're still sick?" he asks.

Kenma frowns up at him. "I know my limits," he says, tugging at Kuro's shirt. "Don't make us stop. Please."

"Okay, okay," Kuro says, pressing another kiss against his mouth. "But let me know if you need to take a break."

He pulls his shirt off over his head, and although Kenma's seen him half-naked before, he can't help but run his fingers over the exposed skin before him reverently. Kuro has some scars too, he's noticed. There's a small one near his shoulder that looks like he got caught by some shrapnel. Further down, there's a circular scar on his abdomen, near his hip. Kenma traces over this one slowly with one finger.

"Friendly fire," Kuro says, glancing down at it. "Didn't get out of the way fast enough." He grins, lopsided, and Kenma doesn't ask for more details.

He kisses Kuro's shoulder instead, near his scar, before sliding his lips across his clavicle to his sternum. Kuro trembles beneath his touch, and he runs his hands slowly up and down his sides.

"Kenma," Kuro murmurs, and the soft sound of his name sends shivers down Kenma's spine.

He leans back, pulling his own shirt up over his head. Kuro catches it, helping to toss it aside, before surging down to kiss him again. This time his lips are hungry, insistent. There's a passion thrumming beneath his actions that Kenma's never felt before. He gasps into Kuro's mouth, as he feels heat tingle along his skin everywhere Kuro's hands wander. Across his back and sides, down his hips, and when Kuro slips his hand into Kenma's shorts, he arches his back, pushing up into Kuro's hand, as he wraps his fingers around his hardening member.

"Kuro," he whimpers, his own hands moving down to yank at Kuro's own boxers. He tugs them down, and Kuro falls, warm and heavy, into his hand. He's half-hard already himself, and Kenma starts to stroke him quickly.

"Mmph," Kuro grunts against his lips, pulling back, as another shudder runs through him. "Fuck, Kenma."

Pressing his other hand against Kuro's chest, Kenma pushes him back to sit on his knees. Kuro watches him, panting softly, as Kenma wiggles out of his shorts, dropping them to the floor beside his shirt.

A soft noise echoes from the room next-door, the sound of grunts and moans, and Kuro grins.

"Guess they had the same idea we did," he says, raising an eyebrow.

Kenma huffs, not wanting Kuro to get distracted. He wraps his hand around Kuro's member once more, tugging quickly, and Kuro's attention quickly turns back to him.

"Ah," he gasps, fingers shaking as he moves to hold Kenma's thighs. He reaches for Kenma's own length, but Kenma swats his hand away. Kuro frowns. "Hey," he says, taking Kenma's wrist to stop his movements. "Don't make this just about me."

Kenma blinks up at him. "I'm not," he assures him.

Kuro raises an eyebrow. "Oho, you have a plan, do you? Have you been fantasizing about this or something?"

Kenma flushes, scowling as he looks away. "Shut up."

Kuro releases his wrist, but not before bending down and murmuring into his ear. "I've been thinking about you too."

Kenma closes his eyes momentarily, letting that sink in, before he starts moving his hand again. He tightens his grip just slightly, stroking upward until he comes to the tip. This he rolls between his fingers, rubbing his thumb along the slit until beads of pre-cum appear, and Kuro bites back a moan. Leaning forward, Kenma presses his tongue against the slit, licking up the beads as they appear, and Kuro cries out softly, one hand flying to Kenma's head, curling into his hair.

"Fuck, Kenma!" he gasps.

Kenma wraps his lips around the warm, salty skin, pushing down until Kuro's encased in his mouth. He can feel the quick pulse of his heartbeat through his veins, taste the sharp tang of him on his tongue. He starts to suck, slowly, bobbing his head to increase friction, and Kuro's thighs quiver, as he attempts to remain still.

"Kenma, Kenma," he mumbles. "Shit. Shit."

Kenma fights a smile, slowly pulling back until just the tip is in his mouth once more. He presses his tongue against the underside of the head, swirling around it before returning to the slit.

"Nng. Ha." Kuro's panting, his fingers gripping Kenma's head tighter.

More pre-cum spills onto his tongue, and Kenma leans back. Mouth still full and dripping, he sits up on his knees and takes the back of Kuro's head, pulling him into another deep kiss. Kuro, apparently not minding the taste of himself on Kenma, delves into it heatedly, pressing Kenma back into the mattress with his enthusiasm.

"Do-do you have . . ." he gasps, breaking the kiss to look down at Kenma with dark, lust-filled eyes.

Kenma bites his lip, chest tight, as he nods and looks to the bedside table. Kuro reaches for it, nearly knocking over Kenma's medication in his haste to open the drawer and pull out the bottle of lube. He hesitates then, glancing from the drawer to Kenma and back again.

"No condoms?"

Kenma flushes. "We . . . might've used them all up."

Kuro stares at him a moment before huffing a soft laugh. "Okay, hang on," he says, kissing Kenma's forehead briefly before getting off the bed. He steps over to his pants that he discarded earlier, rummaging through the pockets before he finds what he's looking for. He jumps back on the bed with a grin.

"Good thing I had one here, I don't want to know what I might've walked in on if I had to go ask Bo for one."

Kenma snorts softly. Kuro kisses him again, lingering a moment this time, as he sets the condom aside. He picks up the lube again, sitting back and holding it up.

"So, um, Bo and I switch a lot so . . . what, uh . . ."

Kenma has to stifle a laugh at how flustered Kuro looks. He reaches down between them, trailing his fingertips along the mess Kuro's made on his stomach with how much he's dripping on him. "I want you to fuck me," he admits, his entire body feeling much too warm.

"R-Right," Kuro says, inhaling shakily.

Kenma can't help the smirk that twitches on his lips. "You okay?"

Kuro gives him a look. "I'm fine. I just . . . you're Kenma."

Kenma blinks up at him. "You're not going to hurt me," he says. "I've done this before, you know."

"Right, yeah," Kuro says, nodding. "Sorry. I guess I’m just a little nervous. For some reason this feels different than when I'm with Bo."

Kenma wonders if it's a good different or not, but before he can ask, Kuro's kissing him again, slow and sweet. His heart pounds faster, and a moment later, Kuro gently spreads his legs. There's the click of the lube, the sound of the squirt, and then Kuro's finger, cool and slick, rubs against him.

Kenma moans, spreading his legs further. He's already eager for it, and when Kuro presses in, his body opens for him easily, sucking him inside.

"Fuck," Kuro gasps.

Kenma reaches for him, curling his fingers into Kuro's shoulder to hold him closer. He can feel Kuro's heart beating wildly in his chest, and his own races to match its rhythm, as he feels the gentle pressure of Kuro's finger inside him. He squirms, aching for more, and after a moment Kuro complies, pushing a second finger in beside the first. He scissors them gently, and Kenma stifles a cry at the stretch.

"Ugh, Kenma," Kuro groans, pressing his face into Kenma's neck. He begins to thrust his fingers, gently at first, then faster as Kenma's hips roll up into his hand.

"Kuro, Kuro," Kenma whimpers. It's not enough. It's not him. And even when Kuro slides in a third finger and begins curling them up against his prostate, he shakes his head.

"I want you," he gasps. "I want you."

He reaches for Kuro's erection, giving it a pointed squeeze. Kuro yelps, smearing pre-cum across Kenma's stomach, as his body jerks in response and dumps more of the sticky strands onto him. Kenma doesn't care, however. He reaches for the condom, and Kuro pulls his fingers out to take it from him. Kenma gasps at the sudden loss, whining low in his throat.

"Kuro," he complains, even as Kuro hastens to open the condom.

"I'm here, I'm here," Kuro gasps, bending to pepper his face with kisses. Kenma wraps his arms around him, gripping him close. It's so completely different than what he's used to. He feels alive. Every nerve is tingling in anticipation, and he's never wanted to be fucked so badly in his life.

Kuro slips the condom over his member, coating it generously with lube. He lines himself up then, taking Kenma's thighs in his hands and lifting his hips off the mattress. Kenma complies easily, his body like clay in Kuro's hands, and when he feels Kuro start to press into him, he stifles his cry against the back of his hand.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck," Kuro groans, as he pushes in deeper, slowly yet steadily.

Kenma nails dig into Kuro's back, but he doesn't seem to mind. He moves forward until he's completely settled inside. Kenma feels as though his entire body is pulsating with his heartbeat. He struggles to breathe, wheezing softly, and Kuro opens his eyes to look down at him, brows furrows slightly.

"You okay?" he asks, his voice strangled.

Kenma nods quickly. "Move," he commands, nudging Kuro's thigh with his foot.

Kuro grins shakily, before he starts to thrust. The pressure is familiar, though Kuro's bigger than Akaashi. The stretch is a sensation Kenma's used to, and though the pain is there, it's slight and overwhelmed by the haze of pleasure. Heat sparks through his veins, tingling beneath his skin. Kuro grunts softly above him, murmuring his name. Akaashi never spoke his name during the act. Akaashi never felt like this.

Everything's bright and hot, and Kenma trembles, aching. He shifts beneath Kuro, his hips undulating in time with his thrusts. The movement aggravates his scar, providing a different twinge of pain, but he ignores it. He doesn't want to stop, and he knows Kuro will if he feels Kenma's at all uncomfortable.

The cries in the room beside them grow louder, and Kuro picks up his pace. He thrusts harder, shoving into Kenma with quick, deliberate thrusts. Kenma finds himself crying out as well, as each push glances against his prostate with just enough force to make him quiver with the overwhelming sensations.

"Kuro, Kuro."

"Nng, ha, Kenma."

Kuro leans down, attempting a kiss though it's sloppy and off-center. Their lips slide against each other messily, and they end up mostly breathing hot air into each other's mouths. Kuro starts murmuring then, lips moving almost frantically against Kenma's.

"I love you," he's saying. "I love you. I love you."

This is too much for Kenma. His nails dig deeper into Kuro's back, leaving welts in their wake, as he scrambles for closer hold. He's tilting over the edge, the heat and pleasure crashing over him like a tidal wave. Then Kuro reaches for his member, hot and slick and dumping pre-cum incessantly. He gives it a few quick, smooth tugs, and that's all Kenma needs to cry out, stiffening as he spills over Kuro's hand.

"Kuro!" he yelps, clutching him as he trembles.

Kuro continues to thrust, his hips stuttering out of rhythm, as he approaches his climax as well. He continues to pull on him, however, and Kenma whimpers, squirming beneath him, as he reaches oversensitivity. It's too much, it's too much, but he doesn't tell Kuro to stop, he doesn't want it to stop.

"Fuck! Kenma!" Kuro shudders, his hips finally slowing. His tugs on Kenma's length grow sluggish, and Kenma bites his lip to stifle a sob. He's completely dry, boneless, exhausted, and he lies there panting beneath Kuro, as the latter collapses against him.

"Mmmph, Kenma," he mumbles, nuzzling his nose into Kenma's neck.

Kenma pants heavily, winded. He reaches for the inhaler by the bed, taking a few deep puffs, before sighing heavily and allowing it to slip through his fingers, hitting the floor with a soft thud.

"That was better," he admits quietly.

"Mm?"

"Better than with Akaashi."

Kuro laughs breathlessly. He carefully pulls out of Kenma, sliding off the condom and tying it off. He moves off the bed, walking a little unsteadily to the bathroom, where he tosses the condom into the trash and grabs a washcloth. He wets it before returning to the bed, flopping down beside Kenma and carefully moving the cloth over his chest, stomach and abdomen.

"Damn, you're filthy," he chuckles softly.

Kenma covers his face with his arm. "Shut up," he mutters, too spent to really put much venom behind it, however.

Kuro finishes cleaning him up, before he wraps his arm around Kenma, pulling him close. It's still too warm, but Kenma curls into him anyway. This is another thing that's better. He's been starving for something like this, he realizes. It feels amazing; Kuro's proximity, his arms around him, the steady beat of his heart as it slowly returns to its normal rhythm. All of it, combined with the high off his orgasm, makes him feel more alive and more at peace than he's ever felt before.

"I love you too," he murmurs after a moment.

"What was that?" Kuro asks, lifting his head slightly.

Kenma presses his forehead against Kuro's chest, closing his eyes with a sigh. "You know," he murmurs.

Kuro's fingers run through his hair, and he places a small kiss on top of Kenma's head.

"Yeah," he says, and Kenma can hear the smile in his voice. "I know."