5, 4, 3, 2, 1 ⇢ bokuakakuro

  [ author's note: this will hurt ten times worse if you listen to the song. ]

  It's still as the night in the stuffy room, and Kuroo's head aches from the humidity - courtesy to the birth of spring - and the pure smell of rot. He tosses the thought to the back of his mind, as it isn't important - never will be - and continues to watch Akaashi's delicate fingers dip a towel into the bucket of water, wring it, and press it to Bokuto's forehead. Akaashi smiles at Bokuto, stunning and sweet, and Bokuto attempts one back, his golden eyes flickering to Kuroo's still figure in the corner of the room. His eyes communicate his words for him: You have to tell Akaashi. And Kuroo knows he has to tell Akaashi, but a part of him wants Akaashi to hold onto the childish hope that Bokuto will live through this and he'll be fine.

  "Are you thirsty, Bokuto-san?" Akaashi inquires, reaching out to swipe his thumb gently against Bokuto's clammy and pale cheek. Bokuto nods and Akaashi brings a water bottle to his chapped and trembling lips, letting him drink slowly.

  "Thank you," Bokuto whispers and Kuroo's eyes flicker to the gun on the floor next to him. His eyes look up to catch Bokuto's gaze, and he knows Bokuto knows what's running through his mind. His eyes seem to convey the thought: Do it. He's suffering, Kuroo realizes. He's in pain, he can feel himself rotting on the inside. Kuroo's heart aches and his eyes burn, but he swallows the lump in his throat and stands, slightly brushing the curtain from the window to get a look at the outside.

  There's a dead body on the ground, staining the yellow untamed grass black and red. Kuroo remembers firing seven shots, anger and terror and everything of the sort clouding his vision. Akaashi had the mind to pick Bokuto up, get him inside, and douse the bite with as much alcohol and peroxide as they had. Kuroo's eyes flicker back to Bokuto, instantly falling to the indentions in the shape of teeth that had turned his forearm an ugly pattern of green and black. Akaashi has to know his makeshift infection prevention didn't work, it never would, there isn't a cure - there never will be.

They have a few hours left - maybe. Bokuto's silent pleas to just end it might tell otherwise. After all, Bokuto would know what was happening inside his own body better than anyone else. Kuroo feels pity, above all else, pity for Bokuto, pity for what he's suffering, pity that he can't tell Akaashi to just leave. Bokuto is too kind for that - even in the midst of an apocalypse, he's still kindhearted and considerate. Kuroo wishes he hadn't hardened since all of this started, and he knows this last blow will send Akaashi down a spiral of depression. He's not quite sure how the both of them will handle it.

Kuroo watches Akaashi realize the bucket is dirty and he needs more water, and Kuroo himself realizes that the moment Akaashi leaves to get more, he can turn the safety off of the gun and-

"I'll be back," Akaashi murmurs, his thumbs running along Bokuto's cheekbones, giving him
a soft smile, before he's up and out of the room.

The room is quite for all but a few seconds, before Bokuto is begging Kuroo: "Please, Kuroo, it hurts," he cries out, dropping his hopeful, lighthearted façade. "I know you don't want to, but please, please, just fucking shoot me."

Kuroo flinches, but grabs the gun regardless. He stares at it, makes sure it's loaded, and turns to Bokuto with burning eyes. Kuroo drops to his knees at Bokuto's bedside, placing the gun beside him. He cups Bokuto's face in his hands, his bottom lip wobbling as tears blur his eyesight. Bokuto gives him a soft, pain-filled smile, and Kuroo understands it's worse to let him live like this than to just get it over with.

"I love you," Kuroo chokes out, watching Bokuto's eyes get more and more distant as time goes on. "Bokuto, I love you so much."

"I know," Bokuto whispers. "Which is why you have to do this."