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YOUR WORDS ARE ominous, leaving Kuroo's train of sense before he could even digest what was happening. You're gone in the blink of an eye, and he's left winded in your entryway. Before you left, you did say he could help Naoko if he stayed... perhaps he could do that? He still needed to speak with you, and a deep part of him told him that something wasn't quite right. Nevertheless, he'd help and unpack a little— just to pass the time!
He turns on his heels, heading down the hallway to your bedroom, inviting himself into the empty room. Your boxes are thrown about, your mattress pressed against the far wall. At that, he softly smiles to himself. He's extremely proud of you for not only how far you've come, but for how little time you've achieved it. For that, he can pat you on the back and applaud you. You finally did it. You're finally going to college...and he's by your side. Everything you've ever dreamed of— he's ever dreamed of is coming to fruition, and he couldn't be happier. With his pride, he feels as though he should do you a favor. Another favor. He pushed your bedroom door wide open, sliding in the dresser that sat in the hallway into your room, and pressed it against the nearest wall. Next, income your boxes, stacked next to the door as he begins to tear through the tape.
He'll help you unpack! Pulling out drawers and stacking your folded clothes upon one another, filling the drawers and covering the hangers in your soft clothing. He does it in quiet, a low tune passing through his lips as he hums away, cheesing at the clothes he knows that'll look good on you. He misses you.
Time flies in his head, and before he knows it, he's down to the last box. It's small and light as a feather. He assumes that it's more of your summer clothes, taking the abused pair of scissors and tearing the tape down with no hesitation. And maybe, just maybe, he shouldn't have.
As he peels the folds of the box open, it reveals the lacy contents within. Different lace patterns and colors are all neatly folded in two vertical lines, one on top of the other. His eyes bulge and his brain churns... how could you— why did you have all of this? What was it for- who was it for? His mind races as he tries to make sense of all of it. What freshman college student has this much lingerie? Not to mention; you're shy of money, working yourself to the bone to simply provide for yourself - so how, when, and where did you get the money to splurge on lingerie? He could feel the fabric, the texture, and the softness that told the expenses behind it... what was going on here?
