Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Keiji stared down at his blood-stained hands, before looking up to the sight before him. 

“This definitely was a bad idea…” Keiji whispered, still blankly staring ahead. 

Slowly, he stepped toward it. The pool of blood below him sloshed as he inched closer, soaking into the bottom of his pants. (He’d make a mental note to wash and dispose of these pants later.) His stained, red shoes clicked softly over the hardwood floor.

Finally, standing inches away, he forced himself to look down. The body. The cold, dead body. His friend… Its empty eyes seemed to peer into Keiji’s soul. Avoiding direct eye contact, he carefully removed the knife from the body and slipped it into the interior pocket of his jacket. He sighed.

Keiji wiped the handle clean, then washed himself off in the sink. He put the knife back into the block and cuffed his pants to hide the soaking red seeping through. Grabbing the door handle, he looked back and shuddered, taking one last glance into the apartment. At the body. At his friend. He turned around and slowly twisted the knob.

“Bye Kuroo…” he whispered, uneasy, as he gently shut the apartment door. 

Nobody would find out. That; he’d make sure of. 

The next morning, Keiji woke to a ringing in his ear. Grumbling, he turned over in bed, squinting against the combined sunlight and the light from his phone. He reached toward the table next to him, slowly grabbing the bright phone. Finally opening his eyes fully, the phone dimmed, revealing his lock screen filled with notifications.

Bokuto Kotarou: 11 missed calls

Bokuto Kotarou: 24 messages

Voicemail: 5 new notifications

Keiji sighed, knowing this moment would come. Rubbing his eyes, he prepared himself to console his probably sobbing friend. After taking a few deep breaths, he pressed the call button and waited for it to ring.

After 3 long rings, Bokuto finally picked up. 

“Akaashi..” Bokuto let out through tears and sniffles. 

Keiji stayed quiet for a moment, “Bokuto-San. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Kuroo… I didn’t believe it at first… I told them no, but… Then I saw it and…” Bokuto stopped his sentence and started sobbing violently.

For a moment, Keji felt guilty. He knew it was a mistake, but... hearing Bokuto-san crying like this was unlike anything he had ever seen or heard. 

Finally, he replied, “Bokuto-San... Are you okay?”, in an attempt to console him.

Of course, this failed, and Bokuto sobbed even more, “K-Kuroo. He… I-… I can’t believe it I-I…”

Keiji sighed. This was the hardest part. Listening to his best friend break down, mourning the loss of one of his closest friends. Of course, Keiji did what he had to do, but it still felt wrong.

“Bokuto-San, what happened to Kuroo?” Keiji said, as gently and comforting as possible.

“Akaashi. Kuroo- he..” Bokuto stopped for a moment, composing himself, probably wiping his tears. “He d-died.”

Keiji sat there, unsure of what to say. He’d rehearsed this so many times. But now that it was happening… He didn’t know what to say.

After a minute of hearing Bokuto’s sobs through the phone, Keiji muttered, “Oh… Bokuto-San, I-… I’m sorry. That’s-” Keiji stopped himself.

“That’s terrible,” he thought for a moment, before continuing, “You can come over to my house. We can lay on my bed and cuddle. It’ll help with the… “ He struggled to finish his sentence, “grieving... before the services.”

Again, Bokuto tried to stop the crying, taking deep breaths and closing his eyes. When he was ready, he sighed, and said, “That would be nice Akaashi.”

After saying goodbyes, Keiji hung up, putting his phone back onto the table. Looking around his room, he closed his eyes and laid back.

“I just made a big mistake.”

Chapter Text

Getting out of the taxi, Kenma tucked the switch he was holding into his bag. In the darkness, he reached for his phone to text Kuroo. 

Kenma 11:52 pm: Just got out the taxi. Walking down the street rn. See you in a bit, love you :)

A sigh escaped his lips as he pocketed his phone and walked down the street. After a few minutes, he could finally see his apartment complex. As soon as he arrived, Kenma ran up the stairs, greeted the nightly janitor and walked into the building. Since they had bought their apartment on the third floor, there weren't a lot of steps to climb. It had somewhat puzzled him that Kuroo hadn't texted him back yet (he was usually so punctual), but he shoved his thoughts aside and hastily grabbed his key. Finally, after some fumbling, he managed to get the key in and turn the knob. 

He began to speak loudly as he entered the door, "Wow, Kuroo, that's nice of you to-"

He stopped. 

He felt sick before he even saw it. 

The pools of blood and spilling guts… 

Hardwood floors and decorative carpets stained red. 

Kenma nearly barfed as he stepped closer. 

He closed his eyes. 

This was a dream….

Deep breaths. Deep breaths. 

And open.

Kenma's scream cut through the air, followed by a desperate collapse to the ground. He fought for breath, unable to find words amidst his overwhelming anguish. Tears streamed down his face, blurring his vision. He attempted to crawl toward his husband, but faltered, sinking back down in a fit of sobs. More cries escaped him, his only release. Finally, he managed to reach his husband, cradling his head gently in his lap.

"It'll be okay, Kuroo... It'll be okay..." Kenma repeated through sobs, though by now he was saying those words more for himself than anyone else.

He couldn't stop saying them. "It'll be okay, Kuroo... I love you, baby. You'll be fine, wake up in a hospital room, and we can laugh this off. Just hang on... hang on..." Each word was punctuated with urgency as he dialed 911.

As the phone rang, Kenma held Kuroo close, seeking warmth that was slipping away—replaced by an icy chill.

"911, what's your emergency?"

"I'm... calling. My husband, he's been stabbed or something? I just got home and I... oh my god..." Kenma's composure shattered, giving way to more uncontrollable sobs.

"Stay there, we're sending help right now."

The call continued, a nightmare unfolding. Kenma watched from a distance as they checked Kuroo's vitals, feeling as though it was the end of his own life. Pain engulfed him, and he collapsed into wails and sobs that seemed to stretch into eternity. Was this the end? He felt the coldness in his own hands, stained with his husband's blood.

They didn't even make it to the ambulance before declaring Kuroo dead.

It felt like the end of Kenma's life too.

Chapter Text

Keiji sat on the couch, his body trembling with nerves. Each breath he took was shaky and uncertain. Any moment now, Bokuto would arrive, and Keiji was consumed by anxiety. When Bokuto looked into his eyes, he would know—it was inevitable.

Despite what some might think, Keiji wasn’t naive. Bokuto could always tell when he was hiding something. But this was crucial, and Keiji couldn’t afford to mess it up.

He waited for what felt like an eternity until he heard a faint knock. Steadying himself, Keiji forced his anxiety aside and stood up. He approached the door slowly, each step increasing his unease, until he finally opened it.

There stood Bokuto, eyes swollen and red from tears. Keiji studied him silently for a moment.

"Come in, Kotarou," Keiji whispered.

Bokuto nodded silently, entering the room and sitting down on the couch.

"So..." Bokuto struggled to find words, "do you want to talk about it?"

Bokuto paused, then started again, "I just... I have so much to say... so many feelings, and... I don’t know... I can’t imagine how—" He broke off, tears streaming down his face once more. The room fell into silence, punctuated only by their breathing.

"I still have so much to say to him. So much to do with him. I want to go back, man. I... shit..." Bokuto's voice cracked with emotion.

Keiji frowned softly. "I know."

Bokuto lifted his gaze, locking eyes with Keiji, his gaze dropping to Keiji's lips as he spoke softly, "Thank you."

Their faces drew closer. Keiji's heart raced.

This is wrong.

He pushed the feeling down, inching closer to Bokuto until their lips were mere inches apart. His stomach churned.

This is so wrong.

"It’s getting late," Keiji said abruptly, standing up.

Bokuto frowned. "Yeah, I should go..." He glanced out the window.

Keiji looked up at him.

"Yeah," Bokuto hesitated for a moment, then turned back to Keiji, "Maybe I could stay?"

Keiji's heart skipped a beat. This couldn’t happen. As much as he cared for Kotarou, it couldn’t.

But then he looked into Bokuto’s eyes, studied his face, and... god.

"You can stay for tonight," Keiji managed a smile.

Bokuto furrowed his brow at Keiji’s forced smile, but didn’t press the matter as he headed towards the bathroom.

As soon as Bokuto was out of sight, Akaashi's smile faded, replaced by a heavy sigh.

This was going to be a long night.

Chapter Text

Sun seeped through the thick curtains, beaming onto Kenma’s face. He groaned, turning over. He wiped his eyes and reached for his phone. 

1:32pm. 

He knew he needed to move, to get up, but for weeks now, it had seemed impossible. Everything felt heavy. Even the simplest tasks eluded him. He hadn't left his bed, barely eaten a thing. With a heavy sigh, he picked up his phone. The screen was littered with missed calls and messages, all from people reaching out, offering apologies and help. He scrolled through them, each message a reminder of concern he didn't want to face. Rolling his eyes, he set the phone back down.

Ugh. 

He swung his feet over the edge of his bed, slowly getting up. He looked in his mirror. 

I look like shit.

Kenma walked to his kitchen, and looked in the fridge. He pulled out some fruit. He wasn’t all that hungry, but Kenma knew what Kuroo would say about this. He looked away, taking a deep breath before placing the fruit on the counter; walking towards the knife block. 

Kenma's mind flooded with memories, each one a painful reminder of the time he had taken for granted with Kuroo. It wasn't enough. It wasn't fair. Tears welled in his eyes, frustration and grief overwhelming him. With a sudden burst of emotion, he slammed his fist on the counter. He buried his head in his hands, sliding down to sit opposite it. He lifted his head and closed his eyes, a single tear escaping despite his efforts to hold back the flood.

Kenma startled awake, looking around. 

The Kitchen. Right. 

Pulling himself up, Kenma wiped his face with his hand, disregarding the untouched fruit nearby. With slow, deliberate steps, he made his way to the living room and sank onto the couch with a sigh. Stretching out, he reached for the remote and switched on the TV. The news filled the screen, the newscaster discussing some accident that had occurred nearby. Kenma leaned back, only half-listening, allowing the familiarity of the background noise to soothe him. Minutes slipped by, and he began to relax, feeling the weight of exhaustion pulling him towards sleep. Just as he started drifting off, he heard his name mentioned on the TV.

He looked up, fiddling with the remote to turn it up. 

“-ume’s husband, Kuroo, was found dead in his house a few weeks ago. Sources say a case was opened last week, after detectives declared foul play. The two had been-” 

Kenma shut the tv off. He couldn’t think about that. Not now. 

He got up again, walking to the kitchen. 

Once more, Kenma approached the knife block, steeling himself with a deep breath. His mind raced with thoughts of Kuroo, vivid memories of him being stabbed, but he pushed them away with a trembling resolve. Gripping the handle, he extracted the knife from its slot and moved toward the fruit. As he began to slice into a peach, his gaze fell downward. Suddenly overwhelmed, he hurled the knife across the room, unleashing a scream.

Oh my god oh my god.

Sobbing uncontrollably, Kenma dashed to his room, his fingers trembling as he dialed the detective handling Kuroo's case. Tears streamed down his cheeks, splashing onto his phone screen as he struggled to compose himself. The phone rang and rang, each tone echoing the unbearable wait until, at last, someone answered on the other end.

“Hello?”

Kenma’s voice shook. “The knife.. The knife.” He said between pants. 

“Calm down. What knife?”

“In.. I-In the block- it.. it- blood.. on-on the kni- the knife.”

“You found blood on your knife? Stay there, I’m sending my people over.”

Kenma sobbed, “it’s Kuroos’- it's his. I-” 

“It’s going to be okay. Take deep breaths. We’ll be there in a few minutes. Stay tight.”

He stayed silent. 

“I have to go.”

And he hung up. 

Chapter Text

"Keiji! Come in!" 

Kuroo swung the door open and walked deeper into the apartment, his back turned. Akaashi slowly shut the door behind him, looking towards the other. Kuroo turned around.

"Kenma's at work," he said, his eyes drawing to Keiji.

Keiji bit his lip. "He’s going to be back soon?"

"Uh... I'm not sure..." Silence flooded the room. After a pause, Kuroo spoke again, "Are you hungry? I could make food."

Keiji frowned. This wasn’t what he wanted. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He looked into Kuroo’s eyes, unsure of what he was looking for. He sat down.

"Are you okay, Keiji?" Kuroo asked, taking a seat next to him.

Keiji snapped back into reality. "Kuroo, what are we doing right now?"

Kuroo looked puzzled. "What do you mean?"

Akaashi moved closer to him. "I mean... why are you pretending there's nothing here anymore... between us?"

"Kenma... he—"

Akaashi frowned. "Jesus, stop talking about him for one second." His eyes widened, and his anger faded into a smile. "I’m sorry... I just—I love you. Forget about Kenma. It’s us. Just—" He reached his hand towards Kuroo’s face.

Kuroo moved his hand away. "Keiji! This has to stop. We can’t keep sneaking around. I have a husband. We have a life together. What about him?"

"What about our life? Everything I’ve done..." Keiji frowned, moving closer again.

Kuroo distanced himself. "Keiji, look at me."

He looked up.

"What about Bokuto?"

There was silence.

"We both know how he feels. Deep down, you know this is wrong. How much you’re hurting him, Keiji."

Akaashi stood up. "Shut up."

"I’m just—"

"Shut up!" Keiji walked into the kitchen, pacing back and forth.

Kuroo slowly got up, following him. "I know you care about him. I know you—"

"SHUT UP."

Keiji whipped around, sweaty hands gripping a knife. Kuroo’s eyes widened.

"Keiji, what are you doing? Where did you get that?"

Akaashi walked towards him slowly. "Why don’t you get it? I love you. Don’t you love me, Kuroo?"

Kuroo stepped backward. "It’s complicated..."

"Complicated? You were supposed to be mine. MINE."

He stepped closer again.

"You can’t do this."

Keiji’s breathing was heavy but shallow. "Keiji, put it down."

"This is a bad idea, Keiji!"

He stopped and looked into Kuroo’s eyes. "I know what I’m doing."

He walked up to him, brushing the knife on his face. Kuroo’s tears fell onto it.

"Don’t cry..."

Akaashi took Kuroo’s hand, pulling him back towards the living room. He held the knife to his neck, gesturing towards the door. "Let’s go..."

Kuroo stood there silent, tears falling. He shook his head, forcing a quiet, raspy whisper from his lips. "No."

Akaashi glanced at him for a moment. "Okay."

He tilted his head, looking at Kuroo once again. He smiled.

Chapter Text

Kenma hung up his phone, tossing it onto the bed. He slowly got up, walking towards the door. He stared for a second, before squatting down and picking it up.

A bracelet.

He observed it. It was a simple bracelet; shiny, silver beads strung onto the thick string. He looked a bit more, before he realized.

No.

He turned it over, hoping that somehow, what he was seeing would change.

It didn’t.

“This doesn’t make sense,” he muttered to himself.

He glanced around the room, before standing up and walking to the couch. He sat down, once more observing the bracelet. Why would this be here? He had no guests for the past weeks, especially not him.

He looked at it once more, shaking his head.

“Akaashi… why is your bracelet at my house..?”

Minutes went by, and Kenma tried to distract himself. He racked his brain for any reason Akaashi might have been at their house. Kenma got up, walking over to his room. He gently placed the bracelet on his nightstand and sat back down onto his bed.

He picked up his phone, unlocking it and opening his contacts. His fingers hovered over Akaashi’s contact, before he stopped. He scrolled up, and with a click of a button, he listened to the phone ring.

Minutes dragged on as Kenma struggled to distract himself. He wondered why Akaashi might have visited their house, his mind racing with unanswered questions. Eventually, Kenma stood and walked over to his room. Gently placing a bracelet on his nightstand, he returned to sit on his bed.He picked up his phone, unlocking it and navigating to his contacts. His finger hesitated over Akaashi’s name before he scrolled upwards and pressed the call button. The phone rang, each tone amplifying his unease.

“ Hello?” the other said, confused.

“Hi,” he said slowly.

There was a shuffling noise on the other side, before a slam of a door. “What’s up?”

“I just… wanted to meet up. Get coffee today?”

There was silence. Then a response, “Yeah, sure. Let me get ready.”

He sipped his coffee, staring deep into his phone. Suddenly, he heard a voice.

“Hey, Kenma.”

Kenma looked up. He looked at the other’s face before gesturing towards the chair. He smiled, taking a seat and putting down his own coffee. Kenma turned off his phone and put it in his pocket.

“Hi, Tsukishima,” he replied.

“So—uh—why am I here?”

Kenma tilted his head.

“I’m not dumb. We don’t just… hang out like this,” he said, awkwardly.

Kenma shook his head, “I know. I just… wanted to ask you some questions.”

Tsukishima’s face softened. “About… Kuroo?”

He bit his lip. “Yeah. I just… there was so much he didn’t tell me.”

“I know,” Tsukishima looked down. “There was so much he told me.” A moment of silence fell between the two, before Tsukishima continued, “So much I, uh—I wished I could tell you.” A look of pain fell across his face.

“You can tell me now.”

He looked up. “I know, but… it’s not easy, Kenma. I don’t even know where to start.”

Kenma looked at Tsukishima's face, searching for any sign of the truth. He leaned in. “Just tell me what you know. Anything.”

Tsukishima took a deep breath. “Kuroo—he…” there was a pause, “he was having an affair.”

Kenma’s face dropped. “What? With—” he stopped, thinking about the bracelet. He looked up into Tsukishima’s eyes. “With Akaashi.”

Tsukishima looked around before continuing, “Yeah, and one day—one day he discovered something. They had this huge fight.” He took a sip of his coffee.“And Kuroo—he met up with me at the bar, he was shaking, all afraid. I tried to make him slow down, but he was just muttering to himself. He kept on repeating the same things, like ‘It was a mistake,’ ‘Help me.’”

Kenma looked confused. He was confused. What could Kuroo have found out that would scare him this much? And about Akaashi, of all people? Questions and thoughts circled his mind.

“What did he find out?”

Tsukishima scoffed. “I don't know. He never told me.”

Kenma furrowed his eyebrows. “Why not?”

“I went to order drinks, and he just… left.”

Chapter Text

“Let’s go…” 

He looked at him. 

Kuroo stood there silent, tears falling. He shook his head, forcing a quiet, raspy whisper from his lips. “no.” 

Akaashi glanced at him for a moment. 

“okay.” 

He tilted his head, looking at Kuroo once again, smiled. 

Turning around, Akaashi grasped the knife. He sighed deeply, rolling his neck back and rubbing his temples. Dragging his hand across his face, he then shook it off and turned back around.

“You know…” he began, playing with the knife. He ran the blade across his finger, letting the light reflect off its shiny surface. Taking a step forward, he whispered, “It’s a shame.”

Kuroo looked around frantically, sobbing, searching for any sign of help. He locked eyes with Akaashi, pleading silently.

Seeing Kuroo’s desperation, Akaashi bit his lip and analyzed him. “I almost felt bad for you… I didn’t want to do this, you know.” He stepped closer.

“Then… why?” Kuroo’s voice was barely a whisper.

Akaashi stopped. “I have to.”

“No… you—”

Akaashi stormed towards Kuroo, pressing the knife to his throat. Kuroo’s head tilted upwards, tears falling onto the blade. “Shut up. SHUT UP!” Akaashi released the knife and began pacing back and forth. “You don’t—you don’t understand. We were meant to be. We were perfect together. I gave him EVERYTHING.” 

He whipped around to face Kuroo, who jumped at the sudden movement. “EVERYTHING.”

He paused to catch his breath.

“But that wasn’t enough. That BITCH took him from me!”

Kuroo flinched, breathing heavily. “I didn’t want you to end up like them… But you leave me no choice.”

Once again, Akaashi advanced towards Kuroo, brandishing the knife. Kuroo’s eyes widened in horror as he backed into a wall. “Wait.”

Akaashi froze. 

“My cameras.”

He raised an eyebrow. 

“They—they’re on. They cover the entryway. You can access them through my computer.”

Akaashi sighed, glancing towards the bedroom door. “Walk with me, let’s go.” He shoved Kuroo towards the room, opened the door, and walked to the computer. “I’m watching you. Don’t do anything stupid.”

Keiji leaned towards the computer, clicking buttons and fiddling with various settings. Kuroo wasn’t entirely sure what Keiji was doing. Unease gnawed at him, and he slowly backed out of the room. Once out of sight, he bolted towards the door, slamming it shut behind him without a glance back. He raced down the stairs and out the front door, running as if chased by his own thoughts. After what felt like hours, he finally came to a stop under a dim streetlight, his breath coming in ragged gasps. Trembling, he pulled out his phone. He knew Kenma wouldn’t be home for another two hours, so he scrolled through his contacts and opened a chat with Tsukishima.

Kuroo (9:30 PM): Hey. Wanna hang?

He hit send and tapped his foot nervously on the concrete to distract himself. Minutes dragged by until his phone buzzed. Hastily, he opened the message.

Tsukishima (9:36 PM): Sure. I’ll be at the bar in five. Could use a drink.

Kuroo let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He looked up at the sky, finally allowing the tears to fall. He sank down to the pavement, overcome with sobs. Burying his face in his hands, he whispered to himself, "I'm still here."

Chapter Text

Kenma shook his head. "What? No. There had to have been more."

Tsukishima sighed heavily. "Well... Kuroo told me a lot. He kept so much shit from you, and I'm sorry. But the truth... it's not simple."

Kenma furrowed his brows. "You're being so cryptic."

Tsukishima snapped. "I promised one of my closest friends years ago that I wouldn't tell  anyone his secrets. I told him they'd go to our graves," he paused, his voice cracking. He continued softer, "Now he's dead. I have to do this. For him."

He turned away, wiping a tear from his eye. Kenma looked at him. In a hushed, almost whisper, he said, "I know it feels like you have to keep these secrets, but please. I need to know."

Tsukishima looked at him. "Kenma, I know you want answers. But knowing them won't make it better. It won't bring him back, it won't make you happier... Just let him have this. Let him rest."

Kenma bit his lip. This wasn’t what he wanted. He wanted everything to make sense, for it all to click together. Instead, he felt shittier than ever. Kenma shook his head, opening his mouth to say something. Before he could, a ringing filled the silence.

"Sorry, I have to take this." 

Tsukishima excused himself, getting up and cupping his phone to his ear. After a minute, he hung up and carefully walked to the table, gathering his things.

"What are you doing?" Kenma asked.

“I have to go. The sitter never showed up and Tadashi has work." 

He scrambled to put his bag on his shoulder and grabbed his coffee. He started to walk towards the exit when he stopped. 

"Kenma?"

"Yeah?"

"Leave it alone, please." 

With that, he walked out, closing the door behind him. 

Kenma sat in silence, his coffee cold in front of him.

Chapter Text

Keiji sighed and turned off the TV, tossing the remote aside. He pushed himself up and walked towards his bedroom, surveying the mess. He hadn’t cleaned since Bokuto came over. Shaking his head, he bent down to gather the clothes scattered on the floor, tossing them into a nearby basket. 

Suddenly, he stopped. 

Bokuto’s sweater. 

He looked at it carefully, remembering that night. Inviting Kotarou had been a mistake. He knew they’d do things he’d regret. He held up the sweater, inhaling its familiar scent. He smiled, then tossed the sweater onto his bed, picking up the basket and taking it to the laundry room. As he loaded the washer, he thought about Kuroo, Kenma, and—

He froze. 

Furrowing his eyebrows and biting his lip, he closed the washer and ran back to his room. Slowly, he approached his desk and picked up a framed photo. Gazing at it, he gasped.

“That’s it,” he whispered to himself. “It’s perfect.”

Tsukishima got out of his car and unlocked the door to his house. 

“Hey, Tadashi.”

As he took off his shoes and set down his keys, he heard a crashing noise from deeper in the house. 

“You okay?” he called, walking towards the noise.

He hesitated before opening the door. When he finally did, he sighed at the scene before him. 

“Tadashi.”

Tadashi jumped, turning around. His face softened when he saw who it was. 

“Oh, Kei. Hi.”

Kei chuckled and kissed him. He smiled and looked around at the mess. Toys littered the floor, and plushies were scattered everywhere.

“What’re you doing?”

Tadashi sighed, glancing around before looking back at his husband. 

“She couldn’t find her toy. That little bear Akiteru gave her that she’s obsessed with. She’s been crying for hours.” He turned around and started searching through a bin. He sighed again, muttering, “And I have work.”

Tsukishima smiled and hugged him from behind. 

“Relax, I got this. Just go to work,” he whispered in his ear, kissing him on the cheek. 

Tadashi bit his lip. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. I love you.”

Tadashi turned around and gently kissed him. “I love you too.”

Akaashi grabbed his bag from the passenger seat and unbuckled his seatbelt. His hand hovered over the door handle as he watched the scene. He waited until he saw someone leave the house. As soon as the car disappeared from sight, he opened the door and slowly walked up to the house. When he reached the door, he took a deep breath and knocked. After a minute, the door cracked open. 

“Akaashi, hi. What’re you doing here?”

Keiji smiled. “Hey, Tsukishima. I just wanted to pay you a visit. May I come inside?”

Kei looked uneasy, glancing back into the house before inhaling.

“Sure. But be quiet. Jun’s sleeping.”

He turned around, leaving the door open for Akaashi to follow. Keiji smirked, following him inside and closing the door behind him.

“Of course.”

They walked into the kitchen, Tsukishima gesturing towards a barstool. Keiji sat down, and Kei stood across from him. Akaashi’s eyes wandered to a knife discarded on the table. He looked at it for a moment before Kei noticed and grabbed the knife, putting it away in a drawer.

“Sorry, I was about to cut fruit for Jun,” Kei said.

Akaashi didn’t respond, just stared at the drawer.

“You good?”

Akaashi looked up into Kei’s eyes. “Yeah,” he reassured him. He took a moment of silence before looking towards the hall behind them. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Tsukishima looked at the hall wearily and bit his lip. 

“Down the hall and to the left.”

Keiji walked down the hall without another word. Once he reached the bathroom, he locked the door and started looking around. He pulled on gloves from his bag and began opening drawers and cabinets, rummaging through them. Finally, he grabbed a metal nail file and turned it around a few times. 

“This’ll have to do,” he muttered, unlocking and exiting the room. 

He carefully walked back towards Kei as quietly as he could. Once behind him, he drove the file into his back. Tsukishima gasped and turned around, eyes wide, then ran deeper into the kitchen, fumbling with the child lock on the drawer. Akaashi muttered something to himself before following and stabbing him from behind again. Kei gasped again, gripping the marble counters to keep himself up. He turned around, locking eyes with Akaashi.

“W-what’re—” he started but couldn’t continue. Tears fell down his face. 

Keiji scoffed, prying Tsukishima’s fingers off the counter and watching him fall limply. He looked down at him.

Tsukishima opened his eyes and muttered, “Please—my—Jun….”

Keiji shook his head and bent down, pressing a finger to Kei’s lips.

“Shh... She’s sleeping.”

Tsukishima sobbed silently, closing his eyes once again. His features relaxed as he slumped down. Akaashi smiled and left the house. He got in his car and started the engine.

“One thing out of the way,” he said, setting up his phone.

Then he drove off.

Chapter Text

Daichi pulled into the station's parking lot and cut the engine. He stepped out carefully, then opened the back door to take the hand of the crying girl beside him. Genty guiding her inside, he exchanged brief nods with the officers they passed, finally reaching a desk where he knelt to her level.

"Hey, this is my friend Kiki.” he said softly, “She’s going to take care of you while we go get your dad, okay?"

The girl sniffled, glancing at Kiki before nodding. She released Daichi’s hand and followed Kiki down the hallway toward the break room. Daichi watched them disappear, then let out a heavy sigh as he turned back to his car, bracing himself for what lay ahead.

Time for the hard part.

The shop was dimly lit when Daichi stepped inside, his phone screen casting a faint glow as he checked the address once more. "This should be the place," he muttered to himself.

The store seemed ordinary, filled with rows of computers, phones, and gadgets. Daichi glanced around, his hand instinctively reaching for his belt.. "Hello?" he called out, but but silence lingered. His unease deepened as he approached a door at the back, marked ‘employees only’. He hesitated, his hand hovering over the doorknob.

"Tadashi?" he called again, his fingers curling around the handle. Taking a steadying breath, he pushed the door open.

Inside– complete darkness. Daichi paused at the threshold, teetering slightly; screaming to turn back. Bracing himself, he reached for his flashlight and flicked it on. The beam cut through the dark, landing on a figure slumped over the counter. He squinted, trying to make sense of it.

“Hello?” he said, stepping closer, his voice shaking. “Hello, this is-”

The flashlight slipped from his hand, clattering onto the filthy, linoleum floor. His breath caught, his heart beating in his chest. He blinked a few times, disbelief clawing inside him. Daichi stepped closer to it; compelled. He reached down and pulled back its hair. 

His hair. 

The world blurred around him. The radio call. The ambulance.

He rode back to the station in silence. 

He sat in the car for ten minutes. 

Finally, when he felt the weight of it settle in, he knew what he had to do.

He would pull Kiki aside and explain what happened.

He would hold the child—hold her as she sobbed into his arms, her grief too heavy for words.

He would spend the night sifting through papers, looking for answers.

And maybe—just maybe—he’d find someone.

He would call them.

He would greet them, explain what happened.

He would watch them break down.

He would file the paperwork.

And then, he would hand the child off.

He would call his husband, tell him he wouldn’t be home tonight.

He would file more papers.

And when morning came, when the sun rose over the world that kept turning—he might finally go home.

Chapter Text

bzzt…

Daichi stirred in his sleep, his face buried in his pillow. Stripes of light seeped into the darkness through the blinds. 

bzzt…

He groaned and reached for the nightstand, his fingers fumbling around before landing on his phone. His screen lit up, nearly blinding him. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the harsh light. 

2 new messages from Kiki: 

– Covering Anni’s shift tonight. Just got word that Tadashi guy from your murder case survived. I heard he was in critical condition.

– Thought you might like to know. 

Daichi froze and instantly sat up, his heart hammering. A chill ran through his bones. The messages rattled in his head again and again. Memories of just a few days ago played through his head. The darkness. His voice echoing through the void. A body – limp and lifeless, over the counter. The feeling of dread washing over himself as he realized the man was gone.

His fingers hovered over his phone, trembling. He couldn’t get them to still. He took a shaky breath and typed.

– Call me.