I Can't Live Without You (Sequel)

Chapter Nine

  The first house we grow up in is a sacred place where memories and forgotten feelings find a safe haven in. Walking through the halls, peaking in the rooms, pacing up and down the stairs creates a surge of emotions, which cling onto our skin, crawl up our limbs, and curl up in our chest. Every furniture withholds a memory of a child emptying every drawer, each room recalls friends playing made-up games for hours, the whole household gushes of lives, moments, and special memories. Upon entering his empty childhood home, Kenma felt the weight of all those years pummeling him. His mother and father were at work, and he had been instructed to wait until the latter came home. He was then left alone to wait, simmering in the place he grew up with nothing to distract him from the fear of speaking to his father, save for the images of a time now past.

  The night before had been rough, his anxiety had kept him awake for many hours. Kuroo was unable to soothe him, despite feeding him chocolate and warm tea all the while rubbing his back gently. The only thing present in the setter's mind was what his father could possibly want to say, and how that would affect his life moving on. The few moments of sleep Kenma was able to steal away were filled with stress-induced nightmares, creating lifelike scenarios where his father would send him away to a distant temple where he would learn the honorable family traditions, or a scheme where the two young lovers would be forbidden to see each other, and their fates would end in a terrible tragedy of a coupled suicide—Kenma had been reading a lot of Shakespearean tragedies during his seclusion at home in the hopes that the literature would serve its cathartic purposes, which now serve as inspiration for traumatizing chimeras.

  Now he was standing in the living room, staring at the couch on which the family of three were sitting just hours ago, discussing Kenma and his life. Watching the scene play out in his head made it seem so far away, as if it had been years since he had stepped foot in his own living room. He detached his eyes from the room and went to the stairs leading to his bedroom. Memories of Kenma and Kuroo racing up the stairs to be the first to reach the room brought a melancholic smile to the gamer's lips. He traced the thin wallpaper with his fingertips, letting them trail behind him as he mounted the stairs. Arrived at the landing in front of his room, he paused, breathing in the smell of his younger self, trapped in sadness and pain. The posters on the wall mimicked plasters on a wound, covering up the ache while putting on a cheerful composure. The multiple types of video games only served as a distraction from the ongoing inner conflict of loving someone you were told not to love, of being someone you were not expected to be. At that moment, Kenma realized how much of himself he had been hiding behind the facade of a detached, unbothered kid, when in fact he cared so much about what others thought to the point where he had to crush himself into almost nothing so that no one could ever reproach him of anything, if there was nothing to comment about.

  On his bed was his faithful old Nintendo DS. Kenma sat on his bed and picked up the device. It was out of power so he plugged it in. The screen lit up and made a small sound, immediately sending Kenma to a familiar place of comfort. The game which was inserted was Pokémon White, a game the setter had not played for a very long time. He usually kept his DS at his parents' house while he had his PSP at his and Kuroo's apartment. During his short exile at his parents' place, he did not really use it, only ever sulking in his bed or scrolling through his phone. He must have left the device on his bed a few days ago as he was packing his belongings to head over to his apartment downtown, forgetting to put it away as he left.

  The last saved game was launched and Kenma found his persona standing in the Unava region, right by the sea with a Litten loyally standing behind him. Several trainers were walking back and forth, trying to pick a fight with whoever would cross their paths. The shore promised many fun water Pokémon to encounter and possibly catch. However, Kenma could not bring himself to move his character. Him and his Litten—which he obviously named Kuro, due to the resemblance in hair grooming—simply stood in one spot, staring at the open space over the vast blue sea. The thought of seeing his father and having to discuss about sensitive subjects, just the two of them, made the gamer sick. A ball of nerves clogged itself in his throat, keeping his mind fixed on the abhorrer of the moments to come. He could not think of playing the game at the moment, so instead thought about the times when he had so much fun doing so. Kenma remembered the afternoons spent playing with his high school friends, everyone battling as many trainers to see who would win the most awesome prizes. There would be shouting, cheering, groaning, but especially many shared laughters throughout the afternoon. For a moment, he wished he could go back to those days with his high school buddies. He missed seeing them everyday, he missed playing volleyball with them every night, he missed the happy memories he was able to forge.