Summary: "1, 2, 3... and now his heart was racing again. Ah... No matter how hard he tried to push it away, he knew well the reason for his insomnia... The reasons, actually... He couldn't lie to himself anymore, not after this week, not after these three little events that had messed up his mind. Kuroo was usually quite open with his feelings, but this time he had allowed himself to ignore them for far too long, and now everything was crumbling down on him.

Triple homicide on his poor, sorry heart..."

Chapter 11: Triple homicide on a sorry heart

Kuroo looked at his alarm clock: 2:45 AM. A wave of anxiety began to rise within him. The mid-term exams were around the corner, and he needed to be in good shape for the next day... well, in about five hours, to be precise.

Damn it. He was supposed to meet up with Oikawa to study biochemistry. The diva would lash out at him if he wasn't in perfect shape. Not to mention, it was nearly impossible to tolerate him without at least seven hours of sleep.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to push the worry deep within him and finally find sleep. Kuroo was used to these sleepless nights... hell, his insolent insomniac mood had defined his high school social persona for nearly three years. Fortunately, he had found two or three techniques to deal with these kinds of nocturnal hyper-awareness states.

Kuroo opened his eyes again, staring at the ceiling for a long moment, remaining perfectly still. Outside, the night was almost silent, with the texture of the late hours that only existed in the strange and blurry world between two bodies of water.

He diverted his mind from what troubled him and applied himself to let it engage in absurd directions. In such situations, Kuroo had found that calculating improbable things was of great use to distance himself from his demons. Questions like: How many times had he bought a bottle of shampoo since January 2013? How many kilometers had he traveled in the universe, knowing that the galaxy moves at... he couldn't remember exactly how many thousands of light-years per second, he should check on Google... How many sponges were needed to build a twelve-meter-high fortress?

Usually, it drained him so much that he eventually fell asleep.

His mind went silent for a second. It had been a very strange week for Kuroo... Perhaps one of the most unsettling of his existence (and yet he had experienced his fair share of incongruous events). Of his existence... That's a lot, right? By the way, how many days had passed since his birth?

Let's see, last November 17th, it was exactly 22 years ago... 365 days in a year... Damn, and leap years? Oh, let's round it up, let's say 365.25... -he grabbed his phone and opened the calculator- 365.25x22... 8035.5 days... The 0.5 was ridiculous... He had never had half a day... Well, his hangover days must count as half-days, and now it was 2:55 am, that makes a… small portion of day, right?

Kuroo sat up, and grabbed his bag to take out his notebook, where he noted the result of his calculation. He stared at it for a long time. A smirk escaped him. All those damn days on this cursed planet, and he was still here, wide awake in the dead of night? The beats of his heart echoed in his temples. Strangely, he noticed that despite the turmoil in his mind, his heart rate didn't seem much affected. Perhaps that brave organ was used to it by now... By the way, how many times had it beaten ?

Let's see... He was quite healthy and athletic... He must be at what... come on, let's say 70 beats per minute (taking a minute to calculate didn't cross his mind). 8035.5x24 (+3 now) x60 = 11,571,300 minutes since his birth (roughly, he couldn't remember the exact time of his birth). That's 809,940,600... 601,602,603 beats. How could this thing still work properly? Considering that this sneaky organ hadn't waited for his birth to start beating...

Okay, the heart starts beating from what... four weeks? Yeah, but at what rate? Well, let's say from birth, then it's fine. But... he didn't always have an athlete's heart? And then, it would be lying to assume it was still the case.

Moreover, a heart doesn't beat immutably at the same frequency... He didn't count the number of times he had been scared... Like when the living room shelf fell on him when he was ten... Nor the number of times he had run after a ball; surely that should count, right? He hadn't counted the moments of euphoria either, like when he won his first match... The excitement when he landed in Tokyo... Damn, he hadn't counted the number of times he had fallen in love, had sex, or even just the times he jerked off.

He hadn't counted the number of times he had missed a step and tumbled down the rest of the stairs on his butt; the number of times he had narrowly escaped being hit by a bike, a moped, and any other wheeled vehicle; when he realized he had missed an important deadline. The number of times he had argued with his sisters, laughed with them; the time he almost dropped his bag from the 3rd floor of his high school; the first time he saw Akaashi; when he got angry at his shoelaces, when he said "You too" to the waiter who wished him a good meal; when he found himself butt naked trying to climb a fence and his jeans got caught in the spikes at the top; when he heard Bokuto's voice for the first time, the number of laughs he had; the number of defeats he had experienced... The last time he got dumped; the time he hit the skate park railing in the balls while trying his friend's rollerblades; the moment he learned his suitcase had gone to Moscow without him; the first time he heard Akaashi's laughter; the first time he felt attracted to a guy; the time lightning struck a few centimeters from him; the first time he saw a volleyball match on TV; the time he got stuck in his sheets trying to change them and thought he would die of suffocation; the time he skipped stones with Bokuto by the pond; the time the high school principal called him into her office, the time he saw his cell phone run over by a bus; the first time Kenma hugged him when he was eight years old; the moment he recognized him on the bus a few weeks ago...

1, 2, 3... and now his heart was racing again. Ah... No matter how hard he tried to push it away, he knew well the reason for his insomnia... The reasons, actually... He couldn't lie to himself anymore, not after this week, not after these three little "incidents" that had messed up his mind. Kuroo was usually quite open with his feelings, but this time he had allowed himself to ignore them for far too long. Now everything was crumbling down on him.

Triple homicide on his poor, sorry heart...

118, 119, 120... he lost count.

Outside, dawn was already spreading its light. He heard the rain begin to fall on the asphalt.

72 hours earlier, 1st homicide on a sorry heart:

Kuroo was wandering through the city center, drowned in the hustle of crowded alleys. Midterm exams were approaching, and his days now revolved around the sight of the university library, his lecture notes, and Oikawa growling at him every time he diverted his attention for too long.

He just needed some fresh air, to feel the rush of oxygen into his lungs, to escape time for an hour or two. Upon reflection, the idea of "taking some fresh air" in the hyper center of this gigantic mess of a megalopolis had not been one of his brightest ideas. The crowd quickly got on his nerves. He plugged his earphones in, turned the volume to the maximum, and pulled his hood over his head (there was always something cathartic about a touch of "teen angst" after all). He walked without really knowing where or why.

Instinctively, he veered more and more, distancing himself from the artificiality of the city center. The light dimmed, the sun disappearing behind a mass of large cumulus clouds forming above the buildings. It was only an hour later that he raised his head, his visual field finally reconnecting with the rest of his brain. He recognized the buildings around him. He didn't know how he had drifted into this neighborhood or what strange instinct had guided him there, but he soon recognized the street leading to Fukuro Coffee.

Well, that meant he wasn't far from the subway. Anyway, he still had a chapter of organic chemistry to study to check off his to-do list for the day; it was probably time to get back to it. So, he turned to head home.

However, he couldn't go much further. His legs refused to move forward. He stood in the middle of the street, eyes fixed on his feet, consumed by the sudden urge to turn back. He sighed and succumbed to it, turning to head towards the coffee shop. After all, a good coffee could only do him good. If pleasant company was also part of the deal, it would say no either.

Above his head, the sky had almost turned completely black. Upon arriving at the Fukuro Coffee , he felt his heart sparkle. The feeling was quickly evicted when he raised his head and discovered the individual behind the counter. The latter stared at him with a disdain much more abrasive than that of his favorite diva.

"Oh, hello Konoha-san,"

The blond raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms.

A shiver ran through Kuroo from head to toe. He had no idea why the barista disliked him so much or why Kuroo was so afraid of him.

"What are you doing here?" the blond said dryly.

"Uh... coffee?"

Konoha rolled his eyes and looked him directly in the eyes, "Really?"

"Uh..."

"Akaashi isn't here."

"Ah, okay... but."

Without further ado, Konoha turned and waved his hand for him to move on. Kuroo, blown away, stood for a moment in the middle of the coffee shop. He finally greeted him and turned back. He swallowed, feeling a heavy weight like a ten-ton meteorite fall to the back of his throat.

The sun had been so ousted by the bad weather that it already seemed like night. A drizzle began to weep from the sky, and the wind also picked up. Kuroo zipped up his jacket and started walking again. He couldn't go much further though, as the rain began to intensify, soon becoming so dense that he couldn't see a meter ahead. He cursed and took refuge under the porch of a residential building. The shelter was not the most effective, and the rain continued to whip his face. He crouched on the ground, buried his face in the collar of his jacket, and lowered his head to protect his face. He waited, disconnecting his mind from reality.

Suddenly, the sensation of rain on his skull disappeared. Surprised, he opened his eyes again: the downpour hadn't stopped; the water was still crashing violently on the asphalt. He frowned and turned his head to his right. His heart jumped when he recognized the person beside him, holding an umbrella over their heads.

"Akaashi."

A smile spread across Akaashi's lips, and he tilted his head to greet him.

"Kuroo-san, I was not expecting to find you here."

The brunet returned his smile. It took him several seconds to realize that he probably needed to answer.

"Uh, I was passing by and thought I'd grab a coffee, but..."

"But?"

"I ran into Konoha-san."

"Oh... And?"

"Uh, I wouldn't want to jump to conclusions, but I think this guy doesn't like me very much, and he terrifies me!"

Akaashi raised an eyebrow before letting out a discreet laugh.

"I swear, he scares the hell out of me! He glared at me when I walked in; I preferred to take the rain rather than face his wrath!"

"I see," Akaashi replied, a hint of mockery in his voice.

The brunet leaned against the wall behind him, and they watched the rain fall together. After watering the asphalt, the rain melody softened until it stopped completely. The clouds resumed their course, carried by the wind, letting the sun finally spread its twilight rays. The sky had taken on a strange hue, the yellowish glow of an afterstorm.

"Ah, the rain has stopped," Akaashi announced with his velvety voice while closing his umbrella.

Kuroo looked up, and their eyes met. The golden rays flooded Akaashi's face, flowing down his hair like glass beads. He smiled.

And it was at that precise moment that the first blow was struck. Kuroo felt his heart swell, swell, until it became gigantic, until it hit his ribcage like a taut drum, splashing blood violently throughout his body, making him immediately feverish. So violently that his head began to spin and his legs to shake. All his blood began to boil under his skin, the heat engulfing him like a giant sea monster. This warmth enveloped him and confused him with a dizzying intoxication. He forgot how to breathe.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck my life" he thought.

"Can I still interest you in a coffee?" Akaashi asked. "Despite appearances, Konoha is not that terrible."

"Uh... hum... ah," Kuroo stammered.

The "fuck, fuck, fuck " mantra was still echoing in his head.

Akaashi seemed troubled by his reaction.

"Uh, the thing is, I still have studying I need to catch up on, but next time, yes... Uh, I have to go."

He stood up abruptly and started to leave but immediately turned back.

"Uh, thanks for the umbrella," Kuroo said, bowing, before quickly walking away, leaving a thoroughly bewildered Akaashi behind.

Big gigantic fuck !

This word accompanied him all the way to his apartment. He obviously couldn't concentrate on his biochemistry chapter after that. His heart kept pounding against his ribcage, stirred by turmoil, anxiety, and something that Kuroo could only call high treason. Damn fickle heart.

48 hours earlier, 2nd homicide on a sorry heart:

Following the previous day's tachycardic episode, Kuroo woke up feeling as if he had been flattened by a steamroller. He gazed into nothingness for a while, contemplating the extent of the damage in an introspective manner. His heart had calmed down, and all the turmoil that had gripped him earlier now seemed almost alien. Upon reflection, did any of it really mean anything? Was it all that... overwhelming? After all, he had known for quite some time that he wasn't indifferent to Akaashi's numerous charms. Damn, he had known that since the first time his gaze landed on him; he didn't nickname him "Mister fantastico-mystical" for nothing! Admittedly, his physiological reaction may have been triggered by the monstrous doses of caffeine he had consumed throughout the day. There, nothing alarming really. Now that he had a clear mind, it seemed much more plausible.

Okay, he had to admit that he maybe had... a little crush on him; but that was it really.

Satisfied with the shameful lie he had just concocted himself, Kuroo got up, leaving all that aside to get ready before gathering his things to go—once again—to the university library. Little did he know that the second blow would be struck there.

It unfolded like this:

After climbing the stairs to reach the first floor of the library, Kuroo joyfully found Bokuto posing in the doorway leading to the study room.

"Fancy seeing you here," Bokuto announced with comical intensity.

Kuroo chuckled but still tried to maintain a semblance of seriousness, wanting to participate in this impromptu act. He stepped aside to disappear from his friend's field of vision, only to reappear with an exaggeratedly surprised expression.

"Oh, my, you here?"

Bokuto chuckled and disappeared again to redo his entrance.

They continued playing this absurd version of "peek-a-boo" much longer than any normally constituted individual could endure. Kuroo, once again, was the first to completely lose his shit. As it was his turn to reappear, he found that his friend had preceded him and stood in the doorway, his sweatshirt hood pulled up, laces pulled tight, forming a ridiculous collar that almost completely hid his face. Only his eyes were visible. The incongruity was enough to send Kuroo into fits of laughter.

"I haven't said anything yet!" Bokuto exclaimed.

"Bro, no need, you know it kills me when you make that face!"

"What face?"

"Your 'Great Owl caught in the headlights of a car' face."

"Oh, that one?"

And he reiterated his said Great Owl face, not failing to make the brunet laugh once again. Satisfied with having delighted his audience, Bokuto decided to end his performance there. He loosened the laces and pulled down his hood.

"Oh no, it messed up your magnificent hairstyle Bro ! How can you claim to be an owl worthy of the name if you don't have your ears anymore!"

Kuroo approached his friend and without thinking, ran his hands through his hair to restore some semblance of hair integrity.

"They aren't ears", Bokuto interjected.

"Yeah, but I can't remember what they're called..."

"Horns?"

"Horns?!"

At that moment, a young woman apologized as she wanted to access the hallway (which they were heavily blocking access to). Bokuto turned his eyes to her, and instead of detaching himself from the brunet to move aside, he seized him by the hips and pulled him close to him to clear the way. Without even seeing it coming, Kuroo found himself pressed against his chest, his face so close to his that he could feel his breath on his skin, his "Herculean" arms embracing his hips.

And the second blow was struck.

Kuroo felt his heart swell, swell, until it became gigantic, until it beat on his chest like a taut drum, sending bursts of blood so violently throughout his body that he immediately felt feverish. So violently that his head started to spin and his legs to shake.

All the nerves in his body went haywire, his overloaded neurons began to form electric arcs until the entire system tripped at once, sending hundreds of sparks crackling under his skin.

Bokuto, on the other hand, didn't seem overly affected by the whole thing and continued the conversation naturally:

"Yeah, horns, like this..."

He took his hands off Kuroo's hips to run them through his hair. The brunet felt Bokuto's fingers pass over his skull as he raised his front hair on his head.

"Like this!"

Kuroo was now almost in a state of cerebral death.

"Are you okay, bro?" asked his accomplice.

"Uh, yeah... It does look like horns."

Bokuto tilted his head to the side.

"Now you're doing the barn owl," said Kuroo. It took him a crazy amount of brainpower to control the tone of his voice.

Bokuto smiled at him.

The brunet returned the smile. He gave a little push with his arms - still pressed against Bokuto's body - to separate from him.

"Uh... I'll leave you, I have to go... to study," Kuroo managed to articulate almost correctly.

"Yeah, me too!"

"Uh, so, see you around!"

Kuroo gave him a vague wave, turned around, and went down the stairs. Wrong direction, but no turning back now! Anyway, he needed caffeine, and the only machine was downstairs.

The caffeine did not help his case at all. He spent a good hour rereading the same page on the verge of a heart attack, under the half-annoyed, half-worried gaze of Oikawa. The only positive point was that by the end of the day, he felt like he had run five marathons, which had exhausted him enough that he immediately fell asleep when he came back home.

A few hours earlier, 3rd homicide against a lonely heart:

Kuroo woke up that morning with a chatty migraine and a nagging voice in his head. His alarm had gone off for the first time at 6:45, then at 7, 7:30, 8. For once, he heard them all; he just deliberately decided to let them ring (which didn't help with his headache). It wasn't until around 8:30 that he decided to wake up. He grabbed his phone to inform his study buddies that he wouldn't join them today and immediately pulled the covers up to snuggle in. He would be much more inclined to study once well-rested and with a clearer mind.

Okay, and maybe a tiny part of him didn't want to go to the library as he was afraid of running into Bokuto again. He closed his eyes, trying to let his mind wander enough to lead him to sleep. It took him less than two minutes to realize his efforts were in vain. Out of frustration, he kicked furiously his blanket to get rid of it and sat up. No use, he couldn't get it out of his head. After roughhousing his pillow more than necessary, he eventually calmed down and fell back onto his futon.

Okay, okay, this time it wasn't the caffeine. But now that he thought about it, it wasn't that big of a deal. His body just... reacted... which was natural after all! Why was he so surprised after all? He knew it right away, the moment his eyes landed on Bokuto for the first time! Damn, he didn't call him "Hercule Mercury" for nothing! He had rarely met someone so damn sexy, funny, deeply moving, and... Kuroo knew himself well and knew his weaknesses, so it wasn't surprising how he reacted. That reaction when Bokuto's arms had wrapped around him, and he felt his chest against his and his breath... Kuroo blushed and buried his head in his pillow.

And damn it, this guy made him laugh...

He let go of the pillow.

Okay, okay: he had a little crush on Bokuto… as well.

What was the problem really? His sister Kasumi had multiple crushes when she was in high school, so many that she couldn't decently count them on her hands. Even counting all the guys from her favorite music group at the time, it added up to eight! And Natsume too! He remember when her heart swung between the mysterious bad boy hanging out in front of the school, the geek from her physics-chemistry class, and a math professor from Oxford University whose TED talks she couldn't stop playing on a loop! There was no difference between that and his current situation... Except maybe that he wasn't a high school student experiencing his first romantic rodeos... But apart from that, no differences.

With this last thought, he left his reflection there.

The day passed, the light outside barely filtering through his small window, and the hours flowed, mingling with each other in a strange stream. Kuroo had pushed himself so hard to distance himself from his thoughts that he succeeded in the extreme feat of focusing effectively on his studies. So much so that he had already achieved the goal he had set for himself by the end of the afternoon. He tried to push a little more, without success. He wouldn't go any further today.

So he found himself lazing around in his small apartment, with a pressing desire to do something with his time but too little energy to do anything about it. Out of boredom, he grabbed his phone. He mechanically scrolled through the apps and opened Instagram. He scrolled through the posts without really paying attention but quickly caught up.

He scrolled through his feed and started watching the stories. Not much on that side either since most of the accounts he followed were those of his friends who were more or less all studying. Well, maybe not all of them, Yamaguchi had spent his day posting all kinds of ridiculous (but funny) memes, and Sugawara had posted many photos of Daichi chasing dogs in a park. Those two had some odd dates, but who was he to judge? He finally came across the story of Kenma's official account: on a multicolored background was written, "Live OLF bilingual tonight on my channel 8 PM JST." Kuroo smiled. Sure, he had no idea what "OLF" meant, but he didn't care at all. He had never seen him in "action" and wouldn't miss it for the world!

He glanced at the time: 8:38 PM. He had already missed the beginning of the stream! He got rid of the textbooks he had piled on the floor, grabbed his computer, and went to Kenma's channel (which he had already saved in his favorites but hadn't watched any content from yet). The live opened with what must have been Kenma's screen, who was valiantly fighting against what could be described as the illegitimate child of a dragon and a raging troll. His webcam wasn't on (of course), but his voice could be heard.

He was speaking in a mixture of Japanese and English, switching between the two languages to respond to comments rapidly appearing in the chat window. Kuroo smiled, blissfully euphoric. He vaguely tried to follow what was happening on the screen, and even though Kenma regularly commented on his strategy, he didn't understand much more. He gave up after ten minutes and just listened to his friend's voice.

The feeling was strange but not unpleasant. He had rarely heard Kenma talk that much; he was even surprised to see that he was physiologically able to express himself for so long without showing any signs of fatigue.

Kenma's voice filled the room, spreading everywhere around and within him. Kuroo noted all the curves of his tone, the slight change in harmonization when he spoke in English, and his breath between each sentence. He eventually turned to the chat window, trying to read the messages that were scrolling down at lightning speed. At the bottom of the window, he could read "Write a message." He hesitated... He wanted to show his presence, but there was little chance Kenma would notice... He hesitated for a few more seconds before finally writing:

Ji Kuso Neko: Hope you'll die.

Sent.

The comment disappeared in just a few seconds, and he didn't even have time to see it appear on his screen. Kuroo looked at his computer screen, helpless. He could still send him a message... But there was no guarantee he would check his phone if he was in the middle of a stream. He swept the screen with a sorry look. A smile escaped him when he noticed that Kenma's profile picture was a drawing of a small ginger tabby cat looking both disdainful and terrified, most likely caused by the apple placed on the animal's head. Quite fitting, he thought. He looked up. The same little feline appeared on the screen along with the name of a subscriber, followed by a message in Japanese.

"Thank you Pearlonyx for the sub, and hi to you too."

That was interesting... Kuroo looked for how to mimic this action. Once he found his wallet, he carried out his operation:

Ji Kuso Neko: Hope you'll die.

His name appeared on the screen.

"Thank you…"

He heard Kenma chuckle and his heart swelled with euphoria.

"You're an idiot… And stop doing that or you'll get banned. Hi to you too Jiji"

Kuroo cracked a smile upon hearing his nickname.

"Guys, say 'Hi' to my friend."

Messages in the chat window began to scroll at a frantic pace, with several hundred people welcoming him all at once.

"That bastard wants me dead, let's show him what we've got."

Kuroo couldn't help but let out a laugh, delighted with the few seconds of interaction he had with his friend. His laughter subsided into a tender smile.

He couldn't believe he had navigated through life for so long without his best friend by his side. Despite their long separation, he didn't feel like much had changed...

Yet, Kuroo thought that in ten years, he had had time to change, to shed what he was, to grow. Usually, when he thought about his youth, he struggled to recall what the child he used to be could think, feel, experience... The exercise of this mnemonic regression was the most alienating.

Not that one... Not that sensation...

Some things hadn't changed, even in ten years... He still remembered those rainy days, those summers where the scent of grass mingled with the fragrance of sea breeze, volleyball practices, winter afternoons on the living room couch... The texture of those memories had never been altered, and they all had one thing in common: Kenma. Kenma under a small blue umbrella, absentmindedly listening to Kuroo telling him about his day on their way home; Kenma lying down in the shade of the only tree on the beach, letting himself be buried in the sand; Kenma passing him the ball during a match; Kenma cuddling with him under the living room blanket, playing Nintendo DS together for hours...

In ten years, he had had time to change, and so had Kenma. Looked like the heart remains youthful much longer than the mind. He felt a slight tingling travel up his legs. He welcomed this sensation with open arms, as painful and exquisite as it was. He closed his eyes. It was time to let go…

3rd homicide against a sorry heart:

Kuroo felt his heart swell, swell until it became gigantic, until it struck his chest like a taut drum, sending bursts of blood so violently through his body that he immediately felt feverish. So violently that his head began to spin, and his legs to shake.

It's boiling in his head, in his organs, it's pure effervescence. It sparkles and jingles, it makes loops, it turns, it rises like an immense wave and wrecks everything on its path.

Kuroo opened his eyes again.

Welcome back sweet insomnia.

-end of the chapter-

My poor poor Kuroo… It's gonna get worse, you know that right?

Also, just thought about that, the story is set on "canon" timeline, kind of, so we're in 2016. Good thing for Kuroo, because tik TikTok rise would have swallowed him whole.

Next chapter: "Purgatory"

"As a teenager, Kuroo had to learn to grow in an environment that, while not being hostile per se, did not necessarily provide the best framework for his introspective inquiries. Being 13 years old in Shakotan, a small town on the west coast of Hokkaido, hasn't been always easy. In middle school, most of his friends, 12-13-year-old kids already bombarded with hormones, had the favorite activity of secretly eyeing lingerie catalog models during recess. And yes, Kuroo had to lie countless times: "Hey Kuroo, which one's your favorite?" A difficult question when clearly the opulent breasts of lingerie models appeared less attractive to him than the musculature of the mechanic on the cover of "Turbo Mechanic" in the shop window at the corner of his street."

See ya