A mere two minutes outside had turned into two hours.
Akaashi shared a bench with Kenma. The both of them had sat down long ago, leaving Bokuto and Kuroo to their own business as they wandered about and waved their arms around in their animated way of speaking. He found it strange, how Bokuto was the one walking around when he was the sick one out of the lot. He furrowed his brow and exhaled heavily, his eyes looking down. He stared at his knees intensely before Kenma spoke up.
"You don't like to see him like that, do you?"
Akaashi lifted his head and looked to his side. He eyed the blonde one for quite a while. Kenma didn't give him a chance to respond.
"I don't like to see him like that, either. It's why I didn't want to come along. But Kuroo insisted." Kenma's unconcerned tone contradicted his words, but something told Akaashi that he meant everything he was saying.
"Were you ever friends with Bokuto?" Akaashi lifted his head in subtle interest.
"More like acquaintances. Our teams would face each other often. Whenever we did, Kuroo and Bokuto would meet up afterwards and spend time together. I'm usually around Kuroo, so..." He shrugged with little energy. "I sort of got to know him through Kuroo's company. He's an okay guy. Loud, though."
Bokuto's disembodied laughter rang throughout the garden, as if to prove Kenma right.
Akaashi almost smiled. "So... How are you taking all of this, if I may ask?"
"I'm..." Kenma's lips puckered in thought. "I'm taking it well, or at least I think I am. I'm trying to detach myself. It's another reason why I didn't want to pay Bokuto any visits." He looked down, his hair hanging over his face. "There's something about Bokuto that doesn't sit well with me."
Confused and mildly shocked, Akaashi made a face. "Is there something wrong with him? Has he ever done anything bad?"
"Not to my knowledge. But even if he has, that's not what I meant." Kenma rubbed his nose with his sleeve. "It doesn't matter if you've never met Bokuto before, or if you haven't seen him in ten days, or ten weeks, or ten months, or ten years. If you ever interact with him in even the slightest, you'll be reminded of just how good a person he really is."
Akaashi stared at Kenma, speechless.
"He's genuine, kind, and at times, infantile, but that's what makes him so... Likeable, I suppose. He drags you back in. He praises others while shouting that he's the best at everything he does. It's ridiculous."
Looking away slowly, Akaashi watched as Bokuto and Kuroo reappeared in the distance. They were still wrapped up in whatever conversation they were having.
"Kuroo looks happy now. But he wasn't, then." Kenma almost murmured the words. Akaashi turned to catch a glimpse of him, but he stared off in the distance, his eyes not focusing on anything in particular. Blinking, Akaashi turned his attention back to Kuroo and Bokuto.
"Five weeks ago, he was in shambles. He didn't want to talk to anyone. He only accepted my company. I was the only one willing to give it to him." He continued to stare on as he talked. "That was when he learned about the disease. This entire past month hasn't been any different for him, though. He almost didn't want to come today, either. No one likes to find out that someone they care about is sick... Much less diagnosed with a disease that can't be cured."
Bokuto and Kuroo continued to talk animatedly, the both of them out of earshot.
"Bokuto is starting to look less and less like his old self, too. He used to be thicker. He used to be bigger than Kuroo, but now he's the one who's smaller. Kuroo's the bigger one. Kuroo's the heavier one. It doesn't-... It doesn't make any sense."
Pursing his lips into a thin line, Akaashi looked down and noticed that Kenma had laced his fingers together. He pulled and tugged at them restlessly. His hands showed what his face dared not.
Akaashi figured it was safe to say that Bokuto had already begun to pull Kenma back in. It was an awful thing to do, but Akaashi knew full well that none of it was intentional on Bokuto's part. All he had to do was talk to someone, and in an instant, they would be involved in Bokuto's lively shenanigans once again.
Akaashi knew this. The same thing happened to him some two and a half months ago. If he had known that sending simple text messages would have turned into daily hospital visits, then he would have never handed over his cell number. This was not what he wanted. He wanted healthy friends that he could talk to on a regular basis, not one sick friend who he'd have to invest personal and emotional time into. Akaashi swallowed thickly and crossed his hands, rubbing one thumb over the other. He stared at Bokuto and found it difficult to look away. With a heavy heart, he spoke.
"I wish I never met him."
A cool breeze passed through the garden just then, and in the distance, Bokuto held on tight to the burgundy knit scarf around his neck to keep warm.
//
