Disclaimer: I don't own K.

Kuroh didn't want to do anything. This was unlike him, he knew, but for some reason he just couldn't be bothered with living anymore. He figured he'd be perfectly fine just lying there, on that couch, for the rest of his life.

It had been nearly a month since Shiro's death, and Kuroh had thought he'd been fine, thought that this was something that he would be able to move on from, albeit with a bit of difficulty. In fact, for the first week, he hadn't felt much different than he normally would have. He went through life much like he always had, so casually you'd never have guessed that someone he had known – perhaps even someone he had thought he was close to – had died.

And then, it just hit him, like a sudden shock of lightning from an unexpected thunderstorm. Shiro was dead. This boy who had affected his life – more than someone he was meant to kill should be able to – was no longer apart of this world. Kuroh would never see that white-haired boy ever again. Not once.

When it happened, he had been in the kitchen, the kitchen of the apartment that he now shared with Neko – because he would never even think of abandoning her, not after all they had been through. He had been making lunch, something that Neko had requested the night before, when he just stopped stirring the ingredients in the pan and just stood and stared at it. He had been thinking – about what he was no longer sure of – and he had just completely zoned out. The only thing that managed to pull him out of his trance-like state was the beeping of the smoke detectors and Neko's worried calls.

He distinctly remembered her asking him why he was crying, and remembered bringing his hand to his cheek and being startled by the realization that he was, in fact, crying. After that, Neko had banned him from kitchen duty and said that she would take the cooking upon herself. It took only one attempted meal for her to decide that takeout would be better for both of their healths.

And now he didn't want to do anything at all, even move. And he knew that he was worrying the poor cat-girl, but he just couldn't make himself do it. It seemed physically impossible to do anything at all when his heart felt heavy enough to sink a battleship.

All this over some boy he hadn't even known for that long? The thought in and of itself seemed ridiculous, but Kuroh's body didn't want to listen to his brain's rationality. Why all of this for some boy he had known for such a short time? Kuroh knew why, and maybe if that boy was still alive he'd be able to admit it. To himself, at least.

It was in the middle of the second week of Kuroh's moping that Neko finally said something.

"Why is Kuroh so sad all the time?" the girl asked. Kuroh wondered that too, sometimes. Other times, he found he couldn't even be bothered to care.

Kuroh sat up and responded as truthfully as he could, "I'm not sure, Neko. I just miss Shiro."

"Neko misses her Shiro, too. But Neko doesn't act like Kuroh does. And Kuroh didn't always act like he does now."

"I don't really feel like talking right now, Neko. I just want to go back to sleep." Kuroh laid back down on the sofa.

"No! All Kuroh does is sleep! Maybe if he gets up and does something, Kuroh won't feel so sad anymore," Neko suggested.

"That's okay. I don't really want to do anything, Neko."

"Shiro wouldn't want Kuroh to be sad all the time. Shiro would want Kuroh to be happy, he would want everyone to be happy."

"Neko…"

"Shiro wouldn't want Kuroh to lay around and sleep all the time. He would want him to get up and do stuff that makes him happy," Neko continued on, despite Kuroh's attempt to interrupt her.

"Neko, please. I-"

"Please, Kuroh. Do what Shiro would want. When Shiro comes back-"

"Neko," Kuroh grabbed the cat-girl by the shoulders to stop her from speaking.

"Shiro isn't- Shiro isn't-" Kuroh's voice shook, "Shiro isn't coming back. He-he's gone, Neko."

Neko stared blankly at Kuroh before shaking her head, "Shiro will come back, Neko knows her Shiro will come back."

"Neko…"

"Neko knows Shiro will come back someday, because Shiro told Neko that he can't die and that he would always come back. He promised, Kuroh. And Neko's Shiro doesn't break promises." Neko looked so confident that her answer was right, and Kuroh wondered how she could be so certain. It only seemed right that what she said was true, if she believed in it so whole-heartedly.

"Of course. I believe you, Neko," and he did. Because, despite the short amount of time that he had known him, Kuroh knew that Shiro was honest and kind and would never lie to Neko, even if death itself tried to come between him and keeping his promises. He knew that. So why was he crying?

"Why is Kuroh crying?" Neko voiced his very thoughts.

"I do not know. I think I must just really want him to hurry up and come back already."

"Why?"

"Because I…I am not sure why."

"Can Neko answer?" Neko asked him. He nodded, confused as to why she would want to.

"Neko thinks that it is because…because maybe Shiro isn't just supposed to be Neko's Shiro, maybe he's supposed to be Kuroh's Shiro, too. And maybe Kuroh wants to be Shiro's Kuroh." Kuroh's cheeks turned red at this answer, but he didn't respond, just stared at Neko like he wasn't sure what to say or do. Neko thought that it might be because she was right. She liked being right.

Really, Neko didn't mind sharing her Shiro. She figured that Kuroh would probably be good for her Shiro when her Shiro got back, because Neko was sure that Shiro liked Kuroh just as much as Kuroh liked Shiro. Maybe, when Shiro got back, Kuroh would be happy again, and then maybe all three of them could be a big, happy family. She liked the thought of that.

And that night, as she curled up at Kuroh's feet in her cat form, she knew that, no matter what happened, her Shiro would come back to her. He would come back, and he would be Kuroh's Shiro too, and Kuroh his Kuroh, but in a different way than Shiro was her Shiro, and she his Neko.

And she knew that her Shiro loved them both, in different ways of course, because she was his cat and Kuroh was… Well, Neko didn't know what Kuroh was to Shiro, didn't know what humans would call it, but she knew that it was important. A companionship of sorts, though different to that of any companionship Shiro had with anyone else, including herself. Shiro had just acted differently towards Kuroh from the moment they'd met, and Neko – being his constant cat companion – had been there for most of their interactions. Yes, of this Neko was certain, and there really wasn't much she had ever been certain of. And really, Neko thought she quite liked it that way. And she thought Shiro would like it as well, when he came back. Of this, she was also certain.