Chapter Text
1992 (Now)
Kuroo Tetsurou doesn’t know how he got here. His best friend overdosing in the backseat. Kuroo, speeding, almost in the wrong lane on the way to the hospital. As he pulls into the parking lot, he can’t help but wonder if it’s somehow his fault.
Had he said something?
So he pulls into the circle, opens the car door. He drops Bokuto’s body in front of the ER. Doesn’t stop to breathe or anything, gets back in the car. Speeds to the nearest payphone and calls the police about the dead boy in the bathtub.
He locks himself in the car and cries after. Akaashi wasn’t meant to last. Kuroo had seen that. Bokuto hadn’t. So it must've come as a shock to him. Hence the sudden decision to take too much.
Kuroo is tired of this. He’s lost a lot of friends. Suicides. Murders. Stupid accidents. 19 years of life and he’s at the end of his rope.
So he reaches into his pocket, takes the first pills he finds. Breaking his year-long sobriety streak in less than a minute.
When he feels a little high, he goes back to the payphone, dials a number he hasn’t called in two months. It rings five times. When the line picks up, Kuroo is the first to speak.
“Hey, Daishou. It’s been a while…”
1990 (Then)
It’s been almost four years since Kuroo has seen Kenma. But here he is. Sitting in the kitchen of the squat. Bruises all over his thin body. His right arm in a sling. His hair is longer, bleached blonde too. It covers his face, which has a nasty scratch across his left cheek.
“Well,” Kuroo says, “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”
“Same to you,” Kenma says, his voice still soft, “They always said you’d come right back. I never believed them.”
“So you’ve been there since?” 210 Park. (The shitty apartment complex an hour out of the city). Kuroo left at thirteen. Never looked back.
“No.” Kenma shakes his head, “I left last year. I’ve just been nowhere.”
Kenma doesn’t feel like he needs to fill Kuroo in on where he’s been. Sheltered fifteen-year-olds with pretty faces can have a lot of fun for free. Kuroo, he rationalizes, has been through enough. Honestly, Kuroo probably doesn’t remember much from the time they were friends.
Kuroo had it much worse at 210 Park. Kenma didn’t have a great life. But it wasn’t that bad. He’d had both parents. Sure, his father was sleeping around. Sure, his mother had an addiction to violent pornography (Kenma had been exposed to it way too young). But at least both of them were there.
Kuroo hadn’t had a mother. Just a father. A very cruel father, who had the same addictions as Kenma’s own mother. Kenma, at twelve, had known they were sleeping together. His mother would leave for the apartment next door under the guise of borrowing sugar or something. She’d return hours later with messed-up hair and bruises. Sometimes bleeding. One time with a broken wrist. Another with a broken arm.
She never once tried to hide a thing, besides the half-hearted excuses. Kenma was sure she knew that he knew. It was probably part of the fantasy. They probably got off on it, that both of their sons knew what they were doing.
Kuroo knew more than Kenma. Had seen more than Kenma. They never talked about it, both desperate to keep the other one in the dark. Determined not to hurt each other.
Kenma thought it probably really messed with Kuroo. Kenma himself was used to it. Had seen torture porn and snuff films at ten. Was stealing from his mother’s collection of magazines and VHS tapes. Had developed his own perverted addiction (an addiction that has had a lot to do with where he spent the last year of his life).
All the other kids thought Kuroo ran away because his dad hit him one time too many. Kenma knew that wasn’t why. Sure, Kuroo was getting beaten up regularly by his asshole dad. But Kenma knew it had to have been something else. Something really bad, if it made Kuroo run away and never come back. Never come back for me, Kenma thinks. That’s part of the reason he’s here.
If Kenma needs one thing, it’s answers. He’s not leaving this place until he gets them.
1992 (Now)
Daishou shows up in ten minutes. He makes Kuroo get in the passenger seat. They don’t say anything until they're a half hour away, on the outskirts of the city, near the factories and the power plants.
Daishou pulls the car over near the dock.
“I don’t want to do anything until I’m as high as you are.”
“Okay.” Kuroo hands Daishou the stuff from his pocket.
Daishou swallows a couple pills. He looks at Kuroo.
“I thought you were sober now.”
“Bokuto overdosed. I left him at the hospital.
“Wow. How’d it happen?”
“I don’t know. This kid he was in love with killed himself. I think it made him want to die.”
Daishou smirks, “I thought Bokuto was in love with you.”
“Yeah, well,” Kuroo looks out the window, “He wasn’t.”
Daishou laughs, sort of coldly. “The whole reason you and me stopped seeing each other, you said you and Bo were getting serious.”
“I thought he wanted to. He didn’t care about me like that.”
“You fucking loser,” Daishou laughs again, louder, “So you got high and called me? Loser.”
Kuroo shrugs. “You showed up. I thought you were planning on staying sober too.”
Daishou’s smile goes away immediately. He turns away, murmurs, “I can’t close my eyes without seeing her.” Mika.
“I can’t close my eyes without seeing him.” Kenma.
“There’s something wrong with me.” Daishou says.
“I know. Me too.” Kuroo leans over, pulls Daishou closer. Kisses him hard.
When he pulls away, Daishou smiles. “This is great. I’ll never fall in love with you.”
“I know,” Kuroo says, “I fucking hate you.”
Daishou opens the car door and gets out, “Come on.”
Kuroo follows, takes Daishou’s hand. Without saying anything they break into a jog. Vaulting onto the cement wall, without breaking their hold, and plummeting into the dark, cold water.
They sink down, hand in hand. Deeper. Kuroo wonders if Daishou’s plan includes resurfacing. Are we supposed to drown together? But soon Daishou is kicking frantically, dragging Kuroo up with him.
They strip naked outside of the car, leave their clothes on the ground. Kuroo climbs into the back first. Positions himself on all fours, bites down on his fist.
They both know it’s wrong. They both pretend they hate it. But Kuroo doesn’t have anything left. Daishou doesn’t either. Nothing to lose. No one left to love.