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amaanogawa · 8 years ago

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wherever you go, whatever it takes

Kurodai Week 2017 Day 7: Apocalypse AU/Angst (Free Day) “People speculated what the illness was: a bacterial infection, a deadly virus, a biological weapon sent from overseas, the rapture. Whatever it is, it decimated the human population. It turned civilization as mankind knew it into nothing more than a wasteland of brainless cannibals.” Word Count: 7666 Also available on AO3

“Well, that’s the last of it. You’re officially moved in.” Kuroo claps his hands together, dusting them off with a sense of finality. He plops down onto Daichi’s new bed without asking and gives it an experimental bounce. Looking up with his widest, toothiest grin, Kuroo waggles his brows teasingly, immediately ticking Daichi off in a way that only Kuroo manages to do. “I’m looking forward to spending loooots of time with you, roomie.” “Don’t call me that.” Daichi sighs, scrunching his nose with displeasure. “But thanks again. For letting me move in with you.” There’s piles and piles of boxes that Daichi needs to unpack and frankly, not a lot of space for him to do so. But it’s a room, and it’s home now, so it’ll have to do. If Daichi’s being quite honest, he’s actually looking forward to living with Kuroo; after discovering that they were coincidentally attending the same university, they naturally became quite close. Kuroo was a familiar face in the labyrinth of high rise buildings and bustling Tokyo traffic, far away from the homely streets of Miyagi. The apartment building he had been living in for the first three years of school was suddenly scheduled to be torn down so Daichi had no choice but to find somewhere else to live, and Kuroo conveniently had an extra room that his old roommate only recently vacated. Things had just happened to match up at the right time, and so here they were: roommates. “Celebratory beer and Mario Kart?” Kuroo asks, standing up and stretching his arms above his head. “Sure.” Daichi gives the cardboard boxes another wayward glance. He can unpack afterwards, he decides, before following Kuroo out into the living room and closing the door behind him. It takes 9 rounds of grand prix, 36 races later, for Daichi to finally throw the controller down next to him and accept defeat. He flops backwards onto the hardwood floor with a groan, his empty beer bottles rattling beside him. “You cheated. You must have.” He slurs, squinting up at the ceiling. Beside him, Kuroo is popping the top off of fresh beer with a chuckle. “Sure, if you want to call being childhood friends with Kenma cheating.” Daichi stares at him. “You didn’t remind me about that. It definitely counts as cheating.” “Reason number 147 you haven’t found a date yet: you’re a huge sore loser.” “I’m surprised you’re only at 147, after more than 3 years of keeping count.” The ongoing joke is stored in an orderly note on Kuroo’s phone. “Looks like there’s no hope for me. I’m going to be alone until I die.” Kuroo slides down to the floor beside Daichi, his smile characteristically lopsided. Daichi has grown fond of this smile over the years, even if he had found it to be suspiciously conniving back in high school. Kuroo is lying on his side, his head propped up on his arm, and reaches over to tap Daichi on the nose with a light finger. “Aw, don’t worry Dai. I’d marry you any day, even with 147 reasons why I shouldn’t.” Daichi lets out a rough laugh, cocks an eyebrow and stares back incredulously. “Not even if we were the last two people on earth.” — The flames of their campfire have died down to mere embers now, glowing softly through the haze of the night. It’s Daichi’s turn to keep watch and the night has only just begun, but he’s already feeling sleep pulling at his eyelids. He pokes at the coals with a stick and watches as small sparks float up into the air, a weak attempt to distract himself and stay awake. They can’t afford to be defenseless. Especially not at night. Daichi flinches at the sudden sound of movement to his side, goosebumps running down his spine. He’s conditioned to react now, to any possible threat, any possible presence that could mean danger. But it’s Kuroo there beside him, sitting upright and looking like he hasn’t slept a wink since he first laid down hours ago. “Can’t sleep?” Daichi asks, reaching over to drag his fingers through Kuroo’s gravity defying bedhead. It’s doesn’t do anything of course, because Kuroo’s hair pretty much has a mind of its own; there’s probably nothing on this earth that can successfully tame it. Not even the end of the world. “Nope. I’m getting too old to sleep on the ground.” Kuroo jokes with a groan, twisting his body to stretch out his back. “You wanna switch?” He should probably accept Kuroo’s offer, considering the weariness that he feels weighing down on his shoulders, but Daichi finds himself shaking his head no. “I’m not tired.” He lies, knowing full well that Kuroo can see right through him. “Right.” Kuroo smiles, cupping Daichi’s cheek in one hand to run a thumb along the dark bag under his eye. “Like there’s ever been a moment since all this started that either of us haven’t been tired.” Daichi says nothing, sweeps his gaze over the faint glow that the dying embers emit against Kuroo’s skin. And because Kuroo can see right through him, he doesn’t need to say anything more in order to communicate the fears in his heart. “Sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” Finally, Daichi relents, lying down on the ground and cushioning his head with his arm. But the anxiety that sits like a rock in the pit of his stomach doesn’t allow him to close his eyes. Each and every night, Daichi is terrified that if he sleeps, Kuroo won’t be there when he wakes up. Quietly, he reaches out to slip his hand into Kuroo’s. The warmth of Kuroo’s hand against his own, the reminder that Kuroo is right there beside him, this makeshift tether holding them together sends waves of relief through his body, so that he starts to give in to the fatigue resting heavy on his mind. “Goodnight, Dai.” Kuroo whispers. The light sensation of a callused thumb running itself along Daichi’s knuckles is what finally lulls him to sleep. Today was day 103. It had started as what seemed to be a bug going around; people were getting sick, one by one. Hospital emergency rooms were packed for weeks. The ministry of health encouraged people to wear surgical masks when going out and to wash their hands frequently. The symptoms: uncontrollably high fever, muscle aches, dizziness, headaches, nosebleeds, and after a few days, psychosis. The sick started attacking the medical personnel that were attending to them, and it was decided that anyone who checked into hospitals with the characteristic symptoms were to be quarantined for safety precautions. But with the rate of infection, hospitals were running out of room. When the first patient managed to escape quarantine, Daichi and Kuroo were having lunch in the university cafeteria. The television mounted on the cafeteria wall displayed the live news coverage filming the man escaping to the streets, attacking anyone he could get his hands on. They watched in horror as the man sunk his teeth into the neck of a passerby, continuing to devour nearly half of her face before the police were given orders to shoot on sight. The man was gunned down in the street. Things escalated quickly after that. Panic spread like wildfire, as more and more people began to go seemingly insane. People speculated what the illness was: a bacterial infection, a deadly virus, a biological weapon sent from overseas, the rapture. In the end, they never really found out. Whatever it is, it decimated the human population. It turned civilization as mankind knew it into nothing more than a wasteland of brainless cannibals. Kuroo is all that Daichi has left. Thinking about the loved ones he never managed to get in contact with back in Miyagi- his mom, his dad, his little sister, Suga, Asahi, Shimizu, the rest of the Karasuno team- hurts so badly that Daichi can only manage to do so in short, painful gasps of breath. It’s easier not to think about it. He can’t afford to, anyway, not when each and every single day is a fight for survival. He has no idea how much longer they can last. He’s jostled awake by a firm shake to his shoulder. When Daichi opens his eyes, the rising sun is peeking out through the distant horizon. Kuroo is pressing a finger to his lips with one hand, pointing towards the edge of the forest to their right with the other. The well-worn handle of the baseball bat Daichi has been carrying around since the start of the end of the world finds its way into his hands. For Kuroo, a machete. The pair brace themselves. There’s a silence suspended in the air, as if held up by delicate threads made of tension and stifling fear. Time seems to stop in its tracks, and all that Daichi can hear is the rush of blood in his ears, the pounding of his heart against his ribcage. He tightens his grip around the baseball bat. The threads snap. Three Infected come barreling out from behind the trees. Daichi has lost count of how many of them he has seen by now, but he can never seem to get used to the sight of them; the ash white pallor of their skin, their bloodshot eyes rolled halfway into their heads, mouths wide open and teeth always gnashing. Just one bite, one drop of Infected blood or sweat or spittle into any bodily opening and it’s over. Daichi and Kuroo have seen it happen dozens of times. It’s not like those cliché Hollywood zombie movies, because these people aren’t dead. They’re living, breathing human beings. But the world has ended and it’s a human-eat-human world now. Daichi finds himself caring less and less about how many people he has killed with his own two hands. No- not people. Infected. With a grunt, he swings his bat and cracks it over the skull of the leftmost Infected. Beside him, Kuroo slashes into the throat of the Infected to their right. The third of them is fast on its feet; when Daichi turns around, it’s already launching itself at Kuroo, who is struggling to dislodge his machete from the neck of the Infected he just took down. With a snarl, the third Infected is on him, pushing him to the ground. Hot, blinding fear courses through Daichi’s veins. “Kuroo!” He yells, kicking the Infected off of Kuroo before bringing his bat down and smashing its face in with a single swing. He drops the bat, falls to the ground beside Kuroo, eyes wide, fingers trembling. He can’t catch his breath. The ground is shaking underneath his knees, threatening to pull him under. “Did you get bit? Did you- did-“ “Breathe, Daichi.” Kuroo sits up, cupping Daichi’s face between his hands. “I covered my mouth and he barely even touched me before you got to him. I’m okay.” Daichi lets out a shuddering breath as he falls against Kuroo’s chest. Kuroo wraps his arms around Daichi, holding him tightly. They’re only allowed fleeting moments of vulnerability now, wedged clumsily between the blood soaking into the dirt under their feet and the dead bodies littered all around them. “We have to move.” Daichi whispers, after only a few minutes. He stands, pulls Kuroo to his feet. “The noise is only going to attract more of them. And we’re running low on food.” Kuroo picks up Daichi’s bat, lying next to bits of Infected brain. “I saw a town ‘bout twenty kilometers down the road, last time I checked the map.” They walk side by side down the seemingly never ending highway, taking breaks to drink what water they have left and sharing a stale granola bar for lunch. Before they even catch sight of the town, there’s a winding driveway extending just off the highway into the forest, leading to a small wooden house. They do their standard sweep of the area to make sure there aren’t any lingering Infected in or around the building before heading inside to the kitchen. “Oh man”, Kuroo grins, rummaging through the pantry. “We hit the jackpot this time, Dai.” Daichi lets out an exasperated sigh, turning from where he’s stashing some water bottles into his backpack. “What did you find?” With a triumphant cry, Kuroo lifts his arms high into the air, a dusty can clutched in each hand. “Pokemon shaped spaghetti-o’s! Tonight we dine like kings, my friend!” “Promise me right now you’re not going to complain about which ones you get and try to steal mine.” “Not gonna happen, ‘cause I’m gonna get all the best ones.” The outside air is preferable to the inside of the house, which smells heavily of mildew and rotting wood because of the damaged roof. The yard is fenced in with tall, sturdy wooden boards, and after checking to make sure there’s no openings for any Infected to get in, they start a small fire and heat their food in a pot that they found in the house. Kuroo does, in fact, spend the majority of dinner complaining about the overwhelming number of Pidgeys in his bowl of pokemon spaghetti-o’s. He insists on the both of them lifting their spoons before each bite compare which ones they have, and subsequently makes a huge fuss when Daichi finds a Charizard in his bowl. “It’s my favourite first-gen,” he had pouted, dejectedly stuffing a spoonful of tomato sauce covered Pidgeys into his mouth. Daichi relents and gives him the limp, vaguely-Charizard-shaped pasta noodle. The satisfied look on Kuroo’s face makes Daichi glare, but it’s a short-lived reminder of the Kuroo that existed before the world ended; the Kuroo that had the energy to fuss about random, senseless things. The Kuroo that wasn’t gaunt in the face, with dark circles and dread hanging heavy under his eyes. After their meal, a tense silence hangs in the air as they both stare into the flickering flames. This happens often after they encounter Infected. Daichi can tell that Kuroo had been trying to make him feel better earlier, to lighten the mood in the most Kuroo-like way possible. But now, with darkness settling over them like a blanket, the image of Kuroo falling to the ground under the Infected repeats itself in Daichi’s mind every time he shuts his eyes. He shudders, inches a little closer to Kuroo and reaches over to take Kuroo’s shirt sleeve between his fingers. A makeshift tether. “Do you ever think,” Kuroo starts softly, the dancing flames reflecting golden in his eyes, “of what you would have done differently? If you had known.” Kuroo gets like this sometimes- almost detrimentally sentimental. Daichi tries his hardest not to think about those kinds of thoughts, because it dampens his spirits and often, his spirit is all that he has to keep him going. Sometimes he chides Kuroo when he brings up these kinds of topics. But tonight, with the memory of nearly losing Kuroo forever flashing in his mind, Daichi gives in. “I try not to.” He says, pain thrumming through his chest. “But sometimes I can’t help but think about how I was just so busy with school that I didn’t have time to keep in contact with Suga and Asahi. I kept telling myself I’d text or call them back later, but I’d forget, and then by fourth year we were only talking once a month, maybe. I thought, after school was over in a couple months, that we’d catch up-” The next word catches in his throat and he bites his lip to force back the tears. Properly. He thought they’d catch up properly, sprawled out on Suga’s bedroom floor like they used to, talking late into the night about every little thing he had wanted to tell them but couldn’t, didn’t, find the time to. “I would have said I love you to my mom, the last time I talked to her.” Kuroo says suddenly, his voice coming out raspy. He’s still staring blankly into the fire. “I called her when the epidemic first started, to check on her, and I think I was rushing to a lecture or something, and I just- I forgot. I forgot and that was the last time I ever spoke to her.” Kuroo’s eyes glisten with tears as he continues. “I would have gone home more often to see her. And to spend time with Kenma. It’s not even a far trip for me, just 45 minutes for god’s sake, and I never did it. I would have gotten Yaku and Kai together for drinks, even if we were all at different schools and schedules are hard to match up, or whatever other pathetic excuse we had. I would have done it.” Even though Daichi wants to touch Kuroo, maybe put a reassuring arm around him as a reminder that at the very least they still have each other, the look on Kuroo’s face tells him that he shouldn’t. The night is getting chillier as they sit, even with the crackling fire in front of them, and Daichi begins to think that maybe they should head inside despite the smell; but then Kuroo is opening his mouth to speak again, and a whispered confession comes tumbling from his lips. “I would have told you how I felt.” It doesn’t process in Daichi’s brain at first. When the meaning of Kuroo’s words finally sink in, Daichi’s eyes widen in surprise as he jerks his head towards where Kuroo is sitting beside him. Kuroo doesn’t return his gaze. “I would have taken you out on a date- the cheesiest first date that you could imagine. Slow danced with you in the rain. Stargazed with you on that grassy hill behind our apartment. Rode with you on that giant Ferris wheel, and kissed you at the very top.” The first tear falls from Kuroo’s eyes, dropping onto his leg and soaking into his jeans. “I would have told you that I love you, before the world went to shit and people started eating each other and we lost any chance that we might have had.” Daichi so desperately wants Kuroo to turn and look at him. The hopelessness on Kuroo’s face is tangible, even though between the two of them, Kuroo has always been the eternal optimist. It’s an audible admission that he has given up. It’s throwing in the towel, letting go of any possibility of more. Daichi opens his mouth, tries to say something- anything- but nothing comes out. This was not what he ever imagined they would become, because he has always wanted more for him and Kuroo. More than what they were, and certainly more than now. There has to be something more for them than this, more than violence and fear and hunger and exhaustion around every corner. More than just barely surviving. If Kuroo gives in now, Daichi is scared that they’ll never reach it. “It’s-” His voice comes out begrudgingly shaky. He swallows, tries again. “It’s not too late.” Kuroo finally meets Daichi’s eyes, despair lining his features unlike Daichi has ever seen. “Dance with me now. Look at the stars with me now.” Daichi pleads, tears threatening to spill over. His lips tremble, wrapping clumsily around his next few words. “Kiss me now.” In front of them, the firewood pops loudly, echoing into the hazy night sky. A bitter smile spreads across Kuroo’s face. “It is too late. Haven’t you heard? The world ended 104 days ago.” — On the 126th day, Kuroo starts burning up. When the fever hits, Daichi’s heart nearly stops in his chest because the first thought that comes to mind is the infection. But a wheezing cough accompanies the high temperature, and chills wrack his body so violently that he starts shaking from head to toe while hacking up brown coloured phlegm. These additional symptoms, strangely enough, are almost relieving. Almost. They decide to temporarily set up camp in the next abandoned house that they find, but it’s impossible for Kuroo to keep watch or help gather supplies in his rapidly worsening state. Daichi starts secretly forgoing his share of food to give to him, in hopes that the extra energy can help him recover faster. But even after three days, Kuroo’s fever still hasn’t broken. On the fourth day, Kuroo coughs into his hand and bright red blood is staining his palm when he pulls it away from his mouth. Daichi slips away to cry quietly in the next room, desperately working his brain for a way to survive. It’s clear that Kuroo needs medicine. What kind of medicine? Daichi doesn’t have any medical knowledge aside from basic first aid. He can’t leave Kuroo behind to go scavenge, either- a locked door isn’t impenetrable, and Kuroo would be left defenseless if any Infected managed to break it down. Not to mention if something happened to Daichi while he was out on the supply run, they’d both be as good as dead. Daichi knows he can’t possibly carry Kuroo; he hasn’t eaten in nearly a week, has barely even slept for three days now, and his muscles are significantly atrophied from malnutrition. Aside from Kuroo’s failing health, they’re also running out of food and water. There’s just no other choice but to keep going. Daichi returns to the bedroom where Kuroo is sleeping and sits gingerly on the side of the bed, cupping Kuroo’s burning cheek with his hand. “Kuroo.” He whispers softly, frowning at the sickly pale hue of Kuroo’s skin. “Tetsu. Can you sit up?” A groan escapes from Kuroo’s lips as he rolls over, wrapping his arms loosely around Daichi’s waist. The sheer temperature of his body bleeds through Daichi’s shirt, and it’s enough for a fresh wave of anxiety to course through Daichi’s chest. It’s a strange sensation for him to be so warm to the touch; Kuroo has always been that person who is constantly complaining of how cold he is, always wearing more layers than is sensible, sneaking icy fingers under Daichi’s shirt to make him jump. During the winter, Kuroo would insist on curling up with Daichi on the couch, wrapped in the same blanket while they watched some terrible movie of his choosing. “You’re like a human furnace. It’s a good thing I decided to keep you around.” He would quip, happily nuzzled into Daichi’s side and looking very much like the cat who got the cream. Those memories are too much to bear, especially now with Kuroo looking like he has already taken half a step into the light. Daichi inhales a shaky breath before gently pulling Kuroo’s arms off of him. “Tetsu.” He says again, encouragingly. “C’mon.” Kuroo groans again before hesitantly beginning to prop himself up, leaning on Daichi for support. His breaths come in short, stuttering rasps as he struggles to stay upright, accepting the bottle of water that Daichi passes to him. After watching him take a few tentative sips, Daichi takes the bottle from him and screws the cap back on before retrieving the map that is sitting on the nightstand. “Do you think you can walk to this town here?” Daichi hands the map to Kuroo, pointing at the dot about 10 kilometers from where they are. “The pharmacy there might have some antibiotics that haven’t been taken.” It’s impossible to ignore the way that Kuroo has to blink a few times to focus his eyes, looking dazed from the high fever. He’s still trembling, despite wearing both his and Daichi’s jacket, and the bags under his eyes look like purple bruises through the pallor of his skin. “I’ll try.” He finally whispers, closing his eyes. Daichi nods. He knows Kuroo understands just as well as he does that they can’t afford to stay here any longer. He wishes they had the resources for Kuroo to rest for just a little more, but they’re down to a single bottle of water and one lone can of beans. Daichi also knows that the chances of Kuroo being able to reach the town is unlikely. If the long moment of quiet hesitation before Kuroo’s eventual I’ll try is anything to go by, it’s a thought they both shared. “We’ll leave in the morning.” Daichi says gently, reaching out to caress Kuroo’s cheek. “Just rest for now, okay?” As Daichi watches Kuroo sleep, breaths escaping his open mouth in haggard wheezes, he’s thinking about how thankful he is that he’s had Kuroo by his side from the very beginning. It’s only natural, then, that he’s with Kuroo until the very end, too. — Dawn arrives eventually, as it always does. The weather outside is nicer than it has been in weeks; looking out the window at the never ending expanse of clear blue skies, Daichi’s spirits are surprisingly and illogically high. Today was it, after all. Either they manage to reach the town and get the medicine that Kuroo needs, or they don’t. If they don’t, it’s over; it’s as simple as that. In all honesty, the thought isn’t as scary as it should be. Daichi feeds Kuroo the last of the canned beans, then helps him out of bed, acting as a support by draping Kuroo’s arm over his shoulders. “Ready?” Daichi asks when they reach the door. Kuroo gives him a weak smile. “As ready as I’ll ever be.” And with that final sentiment, they set off. Their pace is almost agonizingly slow because Kuroo is barely conscious on his feet, but he manages to shuffle along the ground while Daichi bears the brunt of his body weight. Daichi’s vision swims before his eyes the longer they walk, starvation and dehydration working in effective tandem to bring him to his knees. But he grits his teeth, shrugs Kuroo’s arm higher onto his shoulders, and continues on. Step after grueling step, for what feels like hours. It’s a valiant effort on both their parts, but in the end, they don’t even make it to the halfway point before Kuroo collapses onto Daichi, who goes down with him just as easily. Lying on the ground, staring into the begrudgingly bright sky, Daichi knows this is the end of the road. He sits up, which is a difficult enough task in itself because the entire world is spinning around him, and somehow finds the energy to drag Kuroo’s limp body over to a nearby tree. Daichi plops down against the trunk, appreciating the coolness of the shade and the sturdiness of the wood behind his back, gently positioning Kuroo’s head on top of his lap. Truthfully, it’s not as hard as he thought it would be, to admit defeat like this. After all, it is the apocalypse- the whole point is that no one wins. “Daichi.” Kuroo whispers hoarsely, voice barely coming out through his cracked lips. “Just go.” “Dumbass.” Daichi laughs. He smiles down at Kuroo, brushes his sweaty bangs off of his face with a gentle hand. “Where am I supposed to go without you annoying the hell out of me every chance you get? You’re all I have left. If you’re leaving, then I’m going with you.” Though the motion is barely even there, Daichi can tell that Kuroo is trying to shake his head. His eyes are swimming in tears, the first drops beginning to roll down the sides of his face. Despite how awful he looks, Kuroo’s eyes are still as piercing gold as the first time they met. Daichi has always loved his eyes- it can be so difficult to read Kuroo sometimes, especially when he’s having a bad day, falling into an uncanny kind of quiet. But when he’s happy, when he’s sad, when he’s angry- his eyes are always honest. It’s one of Daichi’s favourite things about Kuroo, topping his list alongside Kuroo’s stupidly untamable rooster hair, and his laugh that makes Daichi warm in the chest, and how underneath all the teasing and provocation he’s absurdly, ridiculously kind, and- Oh, fuck it. They’re going to die anyway, so it’s fine to admit that Daichi loves everything about Kuroo. Every stupid little thing. “Don’t cry, stupid. It’s romantic, isn’t it? It’ll be just like that god awful movie you made me watch with you about a billion times over. The one with the old people.” Though his tears continue to flow, a hoarse laugh falls from Kuroo’s mouth. “The Notebook?” “That’s the one. What was the stupid quote you used to say to piss me off?” “If you’re a bird, then I’m a bird.” Daichi wrinkles his nose in disapproval. “It doesn’t make any sense.” There’s a look of resignation in Kuroo’s eyes as he cries, because he knows that no matter how hard he pushes, Daichi won’t budge. He knows better. His lips are trembling around the corners as he tries his best to put on a brave smile. “Fine. But only if I get to be Rachel McAdams.” “Sure.” Daichi swipes away a tear from Kuroo’s cheek with his thumb. “You can be whoever you want to be.” A gentle breeze combs through their hair, the sound of birds chirping in the tree above them, and it’s sunny and bright and finally peaceful for what feels like the first time since all this chaos started. If they could just go like this, from a regular kind of illness and exhaustion, it really wouldn’t be so bad. “Daichi, I really-“ Kuroo says suddenly, squeezing his eyes shut. “I really, really don’t want to die without having kissed you.” Daichi laughs, exasperated and fond all at once. But he relents, leaning down to kiss Kuroo like he should have done years ago. Kuroo was right, it is too late. 5 whole years too late, because maybe Daichi has wanted to kiss Kuroo like this since that first handshake connected them together all those years ago, the tether that Daichi has been trying to recreate time and time again. But late is better than never, isn’t it? And who knows, maybe next time they can exist in a world that doesn’t come to an end, at least not in their lifetimes, and their reincarnations will be smart enough to act on their feelings sooner. Maybe they’ll get to go on the world’s cheesiest first date. Dance under the rain and gaze up at the stars on the grassy hill behind their apartment. Ride the giant Ferris wheel and kiss at the very top. Maybe in the next life they’ll get to have all of that. But in this life, right now, all Daichi has is Kuroo’s lips warm against his own, and it’s enough for him. It’s more than enough. So really, maybe it isn’t too late after all. When he pulls away, Kuroo is blinking through his tears, a tired but brilliant smile on his face. “You love me.” He says, not a question, but a fact. Daichi smiles. “Did you just figure that out, you big idiot?” “You love me.” “I love you.” “I love you, too.” “I know.” Kuroo’s lashes are fluttering against his cheek as he struggles to keep his eyes from sliding shut. He opens his mouth, tries to speak, but nothing comes out. It’s okay now, Daichi thinks, because to be honest, he’s getting awfully tired too. He slides his hand into Kuroo’s, holding onto it as tightly as he can. “Sleep. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” This time, he’s the one that runs his thumb across the ridges of Kuroo’s knuckles, hoping that it will lull Kuroo to sleep. “Goodnight, Tetsurou.” Daichi whispers as exhaustion takes over, pulling him into darkness. — Blinding white lights are shining straight into Daichi’s face when he comes to, still propped up against the same tree. He raises the hand that isn’t holding onto Kuroo’s and tries to block out the light as best as he can. For a fleeting moment Daichi thinks that they’ve died and arrived at heaven’s gate. But it’s not heaven, as far as he can tell. Not unless heaven comes in the form of a rattling, rusty pick-up truck. When the driver’s door creaks open and a figure emerges from inside, Daichi is only just conscious enough to reach for the handle of Kuroo’s machete. “He Infected?” The figure nods towards where Kuroo has gone still in Daichi’s lap. Daichi doesn’t respond. Holds the machete up with a shaky arm. The man puts his hands out in a gesture of submission. Now that his eyes have adjusted, Daichi can make out the features on the man’s face. He’s maybe in his 50s, with salt and pepper hair and concerned looking eyes. “Easy. I won’t come any closer. I’m going to take a guess and say that your friend is the ordinary kind of sick, not Infected. If he was he’d have gone off the deep end by now, considering how you both look like you’re already at death’s door.” Daichi can barely understand what the man is saying. “I’m from a community. We have medicine, and a doctor. If you come with me, we can get your friend some help.” Instinctively, he wraps his free arm around Kuroo protectively. It’s too good to be true, Daichi manages to think, because god if his exhaustion isn’t making it incredibly difficult to string together a coherent thought right now. It’s impossible for something like this to happen when just hours ago, he had been prepared to die together with Kuroo right in this very spot. In front of him, the man squats down so he comes to eye level with Daichi. “Look. I can tell just by looking at you that you know you’ll both be dead by morning. So in the case that I am a bad guy, and I’m here to lure you somewhere and kill you, it’s all the same for you two, isn’t it? But if I’m telling the truth, and we can get your friend to a doctor, then consider it a pleasant surprise. Either way, you end up exactly the way you thought you would or better.” Daichi’s too tired to think about this kind of logical reasoning. Slowly, he lowers the machete until his arm drops against the ground. As soon as he does so, the man immediately straightens up. “Okay,” he says. “I’m going to come over there now. I’ll help your friend into the truck, and then you.” He walks over to where they’re sitting before crouching down to work one arm under Kuroo’s head, the other under the crook of his knees. Daichi doesn’t want to release his hold on Kuroo, but encouraged by the gentle look in the man’s eyes, he does. As the man lifts Kuroo’s limp body out of Daichi’s reach, a wave of anxiety runs through Daichi’s body, and he struggles to climb to his feet by himself. Slowly, he drags himself towards the truck, where the man is already laying Kuroo down in the backseat. When the man comes towards him, holding his arms out as support, Daichi shakes his head. “I can walk on my own.” He manages to say. There’s no room left in the backseat where Kuroo is stretched out, so he has no choice but to open the passenger side door and climb in. The man follows suit and gets in behind the wheel. Daichi leans against the window, his consciousness already fading again at the edges. “Sit tight, kid.” The man’s voice is the last thing Daichi hears before he passes out. “Things are going to be okay.” — When he wakes for the second time, for a brief moment Daichi feels comfortable for the first time in a long, long while. He’s warm and wrapped in something soft, smelling lightly of lemon, and it’s reminiscent of the cheap laundry detergent that his mom used to use. The moment is short lived as he slowly comes to and he remembers that he’s not home in Miyagi. In fact, he should be dead, either starved to death under a fucking tree at the outskirts of Tokyo or torn to bits by Infected while he slept. Bolting upright, Daichi’s heart is pounding hard in his chest as he realizes he’s alone in some sort of tent. He pushes himself up and tries to crawl towards the entrance but his knees are buckling beneath him like a newborn fawn. Somehow, Daichi manages to drag himself to the tent flap, unzipping it with trembling fingers as he takes his first look at his new surroundings. It’s mostly tents, identical to his own, spaced out in an orderly fashion. There are people, real, live, uninfected people, mulling about. They’re chatting with each other and carrying around baskets filled with fruits and vegetables and it’s all so unbelievable that Daichi feels like he’s in a dream. “Good morning. You look like you’ve just seen a ghost.” He whirls around at the sudden voice beside him. The man standing there is vaguely familiar, and Daichi squints at him, confused. “W-where’s Kuroo?” Is the first question that comes to mind. “He’s in the medical office and before you ask, he’s doing just fine, but I’ll let our doctor explain his situation to you.” The man explains, reaching down to pull Daichi to his feet. “Easy, now. You’ve been sleeping for three days straight. We put an IV in to replenish your fluids and give your body the nutrients it was lacking. If I hadn’t found you when I did, I doubt either of you would have lasted until morning.” “You found-” A hazy image of a figure standing in front of a backdrop of blinding white lights comes to mind. “You found us.” “Don’t worry if you don’t remember. You were pretty much at death’s door at that time. I’m not going to confuse you any further with the details right now, all you need to know is that you’re alive and safe, and we can get you up to speed after I show you where your friend is.” Everything is all happening so quickly that Daichi’s mind is reeling. He still feels like he’s in a dream, that it’s just his brain tricking him into believing that the possibility of being safe still exists in this world. But the ground is solid under his feet as he follows behind the man. A few people who they pass smile at him. Real people, smiling and clean and going about their daily chores like the world hasn’t ended. It’s a notion Daichi can’t quite wrap his mind around just yet. They quickly arrive at a simple wooden building. The man raises a fist to knock at the door, and after a few moments, a woman answers it with a smile. “I’ve been expecting you!” She says, closing the door behind her and extending her hand to shake. “I’m the doctor here- call me Chisato. You must be Daichi.” “How do you know my name?” Daichi asks, confused. Chisato chuckles, sharing a look with the man. “Your friend has been asking for you, non-stop ever since he woke up. He had a bad case of bacterial pneumonia. It was exacerbated by his compromised immune system from severe malnutrition, but we’re giving him antibiotics and fluids. His fever has already dropped and in a few days, he should be right as rain.” Daichi must look incredibly overwhelmed, because Chisato clicks her tongue and smiles sympathetically at him. “You poor kids. It’s a wonder you managed to survive out there, just the two of you for this long. Why don’t you hurry in to see him? Take as much time as you need. Takuya and I will explain everything to you afterwards.” He’s probably being incredibly rude right now, but he really can’t help it. All Daichi can do is nod as he reaches for the doorknob. “U-uhm.” He says, turning back to Chisato and Takuya. “Thank you. For saving us. I can’t really…I don’t really understand what’s going on now, but I know that Kuroo and I are only alive thanks to you. So thank you.” It’s half assed at most, and Daichi wishes he had the capacity to express his gratitude in a more coherent way, but Takuya simply smiles and waves him in through the door before he and Chisato leave. The medical office is a single room with four beds spaced out against the wall. In the furthest one, Daichi can see Kuroo’s unruly hair sticking up against the pillow, a silver pole with an IV bag dangling from it is standing next to him. The IV bag slowly drips a clear liquid down its connecting tubes and into Kuroo’s arm. “Kuroo?” Daichi whispers, approaching Kuroo’s bedside. He looks much better than he did the last time Daichi saw him. The colour has returned to his cheeks, and his breathing is significantly less haggard than it was before. When he opens his eyes, Daichi wants to sob with relief. “What am I going to do, Daichi?” Is the first thing he says. Daichi furrows his brows in confusion. “What?” “Turns out, we’re not the only two people on earth after all.” Kuroo continues, motioning for Daichi to help him up. With Daichi’s support, he manages to prop himself up, arranging the pillows behind his back. He still looks exhausted to hell and back, overly emaciated from being sick and nearly dying, but there’s a new kind of fire in his eyes. One that had been long extinguished. “Even though you turned me down, I was hoping that you’d still agree when the time actually came.” This is pre-apocalypse Kuroo talking, smiling like he knows something that you don’t, going on long, confusing tangents despite knowing full well that Daichi doesn’t have a clue what he’s saying. Daichi takes a seat on the small stool next to the hospital bed, reaching over to flick Kuroo gently on the forehead. “What on earth are you talking about now, you big idiot?” The bed covers rustle as Kuroo reaches into his pocket. When he pulls his hand out, two golden wedding bands are perched on his outstretched palm. “I pulled them off of some Infected months ago.” He explains, like that’s the most pressing question that Daichi has in mind right now. “So, what do you say, Dai? Even if we aren’t the last two people on earth. Will you marry me?” All Daichi can do is stare at him, surprised and incredulous and confused. The last time they were both conscious, they were fully prepared to die together, and now Kuroo’s proposing. Proposing- and even if Daichi accepts, then what? They wear someone else’s wedding bands around, playing pretend like marriage is still an existing concept in this world? There’s no more shared assets, or hospital visitation rights, or insurance, for god’s sake. There’s absolutely no reason to get married anymore, because in this world as it is now, anything that isn’t done for the sake of survival isn’t worth doing. And that’s why, when he opens his mouth to reply, he finds himself saying a single shaky response. “Yes.” Kuroo smiles, wide and brilliant and if Daichi’s being quite fucking honest, for that smile he’d be willing to do just about anything. The tips of Kuroo’s fingers are cold against Daichi’s skin as he slips the gold band around the fourth finger of his left hand. It’s a foreign feeling, the ring catching the light and flashing brightly where Daichi holds it up in awe in front of him. This is it, he realizes, tears prickling at his eyes. The tether that binds him to Kuroo forever. “Say your vows, Mr.Kuroo.” Kuroo grins, reaching over to clasp at Daichi’s hand. “Wait, why am I the one changing my last name? You could be a Sawamura.” “Sawamura Tetsurou? No way. Too many syllables.” Kuroo whines, staring petulantly back at Daichi. “Well Kuroo Daichi is too few syllables! They both sound terrible.” Daichi laughs, clutching at Kuroo’s hands so tightly his knuckles go white. “I’m keeping my own last name.” “Fine.” A huff escapes Kuroo’s lips. “Still, you gotta say your vows.” “I don’t have any, you big idiot. How would I have known to prepare?” “It should come from your heart. Like how you’ll always love me and you promise to build a house for me like Noah did for Allie, or something.” Daichi can’t help but smile, even if a fond annoyance is already building up inside his chest. “I promise to always give you my Charizard spaghetti-o’s. But not if you keep being a giant pain in my ass, like you’re being right now.” “Daichiiiii! That’s not romantic at all.” “Whatever. Tell me to kiss the groom so I can shut him up before I fall out of love with him, already.” “As if you could.” Kuroo grins, smug. “You looove me. You love me so much-” Daichi grabs the neck of Kuroo’s shirt and pulls him in, feels the press of Kuroo’s lips against his own, and what he’s been unable to accept as reality finally, finally cements itself solidly in Daichi’s mind. This is real. He’s really here right now, pseudo-married to Kuroo, kissing him and feeling Kuroo’s skin under his fingertips and even though the world has ended and people are eating each other beyond the borders of this strange little community, Daichi thinks that he can go on for as long as it takes if he has Kuroo by his side just like this. Turns out Kuroo was wrong before; it isn’t too late for the two of them. Maybe tomorrow it’ll even rain, and Daichi can take Kuroo’s hand in his and slow dance with him under the droplets of water cascading down on them, silently but surely ensuring the promise of more just beyond the horizon.

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