in another life. (Bokuaka)

chapter 19

"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.