i'll love you always - k. kozume

still on your mind.

Kenma walked home slowly and steadily. He felt empty inside as if he was socially, physically, and mentally drained at the same time. He couldn't think about anything other than y/n. 

She blamed everything on herself, how could he be so blunt towards her actions? She had told him multiple times that he didn't deserve her, but right now it really felt like the opposite. She never deserved him. 

If only he could hold her in his arm one more time. He wanted to feel her warm skin against his cold hands, her soft hair twisted around his fingers, and her soft lips on his. 

Her voice echoed in his mind on repeat. He missed everything about her. Nobody in the world had made him as happy as she did. 

He was in love. For the first time in his life. And what he hoped would be the only time in his life. 

But now. She was gone. 

As Kenma approached his house, he took a deep breath before walking in. His mother was in the kitchen, as usual. 

"Hello, Kenma! How was school?" she asked him.

"Fine," he replied as he walked upstairs. She didn't suspect much since he told her this every day, but something definitely looked off. He didn't even look at her, just walked upstairs.

Kenma closed his bedroom door behind him and walked over to his desk. He pulled his chair out and sat down, an emotionless pit forming in his stomach. 

He couldn't take it anymore. The world was so messed up and it seemed it was completely against him. 

His only two friends were now gone. He felt bad for abandoning Kuroo, but he had to. He couldn't look at Kuroo's innocent face without dreaming about y/n. 

Kenma reached his hand into his jacket pocket, pulling out y/n's letter. There was no way he was going to read it again, it was too dangerous for his mental health. 

He moved the letter to the far corner of his desk and looked up at the wall. There was y/n's drawing of the two of them, hanging off of a single piece of tape. 

Tears started building up in Kenma's eyes. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe. He was just constantly in pain, and it hurt so bad. 

He needed to forget, and he knew that. She wasn't coming back. She wasn't coming back. She wasn't coming-

"No..." his voice was muffled by his shirt which he covered his face with. Tears started pouring down his cheeks as he let out quiet muffled cries. 

"Y/n..." he whispered. Just her name made his heart collapse into pieces. 

He lifted his head out of his t-shirt and quickly reached his hand over to the wall. He ripped the drawing off of the wall in rage. He couldn't stand looking at it. It hurt. So bad. 

Tears overflowing his eyes, he stood up and quietly made his way to the bathroom. Locking the bathroom door, he leaned his back against the wall and slowly slid downwards. 

He needed to move on. He needed to stop thinking about her. But everything made him think about her. 

Reaching forward, he pulled open the counter drawer, trying to find his pocket knife. He shuffled through bottles of shampoo and toothbrushes, but his knife was nowhere to be found. 

"Damn it..." he whispered. It wasn't really one of his concerns that his parents had found it, he just really missed the feeling of fresh blood dripping down his wrist.

It was something to distract him from moments like these. Things that would prevent him from panicking to the extreme. It would keep him alive, in ways. 

Kenma stood up slowly, forcing himself to his feet. He had no energy, and no motivation to continue living without her. 

His heart sunk deep into his chest every time he thought about her. It felt like a bullet to the head every time he even mentioned her name. 

He walked out of the bathroom and down the stairs, wiping his tears along the way. His mother noticed him but didn't actively acknowledge his presence in the kitchen. 

His feet shuffled around the room, a sense of panic in his steps. He was trying to fight his thoughts, but nothing worked. 

Suddenly, his body took control. He stopped himself next to the kitchen counter and grabbed a piece of bread from the shelf. This was really going to be his excuse to get a knife? Wow.

He wrapped his fingers around a kitchen knife. It's solid handle felt peaceful in his grip. It felt right. And a strong urge pushed him to use it. But, he held back, for now.