Descending Grief //KenHina//

Chapter 6: Flashes.

TW: Slight homophobia + bullying + Death

Kenma woke up once again for the the millionth time. He kind of wished that he would never wake up again sometimes. Dealing with the world's responsibilities was all the more too tiring. Today he didn't have to go out, except for the doctor's appointment that Oikawa scheduled for him. 

He supposed that today would be a bore. 

His phone vibrated on the table next to his bed. 

Sugawara: Hey Kenma! We're having a meet up with Karasuno and Nekoma today at 12, would you like to join?

Kenma: Not sure if I'm up to it. 

Sugawara: That's ok! You can join if you change your mind- we're meeting up at the coffee shoppe next to the flower shop that I used to work at, feel free to join!

Kenma: Ok

Perhaps Kenma would join them. Shoyo, Kageyama, Sugawara, Daichi, Asahi, Tsukkishima, Yamaguchi, Nishinoya, Ennoshita, Tanaka, Probably Kiyoko and Yachi, and the two other second years, Kenma remembered; were among the Karasuno Volleyball team. He was familiar with most of them, nix Nishinoya and Tanaka, because they were rowdy and loud majority of the time. Then again, most of them were loud and rowdy if they wanted to be.  Kenma sighed. He would see if he was up to it when it got around to 11. 

He remembered he still had to go to the doctor's office. The hospital, maybe. 

Kenma despised hospitals. They were to clean, too bright- too perfect.  It was where Kuroo died. On a stuffy hospital bed, with wires attached to his arms. His skin was dry, his hair matted to his forehead. He was too pale. Grey; unsaturated. 

Half lidded eyes. 

A small smile.

The distant beeping of the EKG. 

The sharp smell of the hospital. It burned his nose. 

It smelled. Reeked, of sanitization. So much, that it made him sick. 

The day Kuro died, Kenma swore that he never wanted to go to a hospital ever again. He knew it would be a hard thing to go by. But he tried. 

No matter what. Even if family was there. He never wanted to go back. Never wanted to remember Kuro's suffering. 

The EKG flatlined.

Kenma screamed, cried, sobbed.

The doctors, the nurses, (Kenma could not tell which) rushed over, pushing Kenma away from Kuro.

Kenma had to let go of his hand. It would be the last time.

Hours later, Kenma was still on the floor of the hospital. Kuro's bed was no longer there. Neither was Kuro. Kenma had cried all his tears. He sat on the cold tile, staring down. At his hands, at his lap, at the floor. 

He should've died. What could he live for now? He had no friends. 

A comforting hand rested on Kenma's shoulder. Akaashi. He was here. 

"I took care of the paperwork,"

Kenma nodded curtly. 

"You wanna get off the floor?"

Kenma rose, reluctantly, legs trembling.

The next five days were a blur. Kenma remembered food being brought to him. He didn't really know where he was. He didn't eat the food. Half the time tears would roll down his cheeks, and he wouldn't know why. He felt, as though he were playing a game, from third person.