"𝗪𝗲'𝗿𝗲 𝘄𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘁𝗲𝗻 𝗼𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝘀𝗲 𝗽𝗮𝗴𝗲𝘀" - 𝗞𝘂𝗿𝗼𝗸𝗲𝗻

"Page 3"

🛸Song recommendation:
is your bedroom ceiling bored - Cavetown

"I broke up with you because you chose fame over me."

But he didn't.
He never could have.
He never could have chosen anything over Kenma.

Kuroo was laying in his bed, staring at the ceiling. He had been here for hours, replaying the sentence in his mind over and over again.

And he still couldn't make sense of it.

"I broke up with you because you chose fame over me."

"What? Kenma, you know I didn't."

"And you got what you wanted. Please, be happy now Kuroo."

But how was he supposed to be happy? The thing he really wanted seemed unreachable now, hidden behind a layer of regret and blame.

Did Kenma blame him?
Because he never, even for one second thought about leaving Kenma behind for something else.

It was true that when Kuroo first came to Nekoma he saw his chance. It was always his dream to be one of the best at his sport, the best if possible.

And he had worked for it. Extra practice, recruiting new players and throwing balls alone again and again.

And of course this had led to him having less time to spend with Kenma.
But even then, he had always tried to make sure to give him as much love as he could.
Everything Kenma wanted.
Everything Kenma deserved.
And somehow, apparently it hadn't been enough.

How long had Kenma considered breaking up with him? How long had he felt unworthy and unloved?
Kuroo could almost felt his heart breaking at the thought.

It wasn't that he hadn't looked for reasons for the breakup in his own behaviour.
He just never guessed it was the lack of attention that drove Kenma away.

"Fuck.", Kuroo whispered.

But he could make it right. If it really was his fault they broke apart, he could fix it.
He could fix it and everything could go back to the way it used to be.

Kuroo caught himself smiling at the memories. Kenma when they first met. Kenma throwing him his first volleyball. Kenma waiting for him at school. Kenma kissing him, their hands intertwined and hair still damp from the rain.
And Kenma sitting in his lap, concentrated on the screen before him, controller in his hands, pressing himself up against Kuroo for comfort whenever he got startled.

If what Kenma said was true, he'd fix it.
The problem was just that he didn't believe him.

He wanted to. He wanted to rely on Kenma's words and make it easy. To blame this on himself and take the fall, because he could take anything better than Kenma leaving him because he hadn't meant anything.

Not that he still expected Kenma to be in love with him. Maybe he liked Shoyo by now or just got over him.
But that would be easy to repair. If they really were meant to be, Kuroo could make Kenma love him again.

Something didn't add up though. Kuroo couldn't exactly name it but something about this story felt off. Weirdly wrong, even when it made perfect sense.

But his gut was seldom wrong.

"And you got what you wanted. Please, be happy now Kuroo."

"How am I supposed to be happy, Kenma?"

"You aren't?" Kenma's voice had gotten quieter, his lips trembling like he hadn't been ecpecting this answer. Like he had hoped for something different.

And when Kuroo turned around without another word, Kenma didn't hold him back.

He had held the tears until he arrived in his room. And here they were again, rolling down his cheeks, a soft warmth, a quiet comfort.

Everything made sense and yet it didn't.
Not at all.
"You should hate me Kenma.", he thought.

And it would be okay, relieving even - if Kuroo wasn't in love with him anymore.
Sadly, he knew he definitely was.

He wished he could just pull alway, push down those thoughts about the boy and let Kenma live in peace, to free himself of this pain and go on with his life.

Kuroo knew he couldn't.
And as long as Kenma didn't hate him yet, as long as he didn't know if there wasn't a tiny bit of feelings left in him, as long as he wasn't 100 percent sure he had gotten the right answer, Kuroo wouldn't let go.

As long as there was hope, these cries weren't for nothing.
Kuroo bit down on his blanke to muffle the sobs escaping his throath and cursed himself for getting so emotional again.

One last chance. One last conversation. One last question. Maybe, one last answer.
No reason to give up yet. And even if the truth would destroy him more than it already did - some things were worth breaking over.

But Kuroo had never been good at talking. Had never seemed to be able to come up with the right words, instead he was a stuttering mess, stumbling over every letter in difficult situations.

So Kuroo got up, sagt down at his desk and began to write.