Chapter Text
Sticky strings of sleep clung to Kenma’s mind and limbs as he slowly joined the conscious world. His body felt like it had become part of the mattress. Too exhausted to groan, he sighed as he wished to go back to the land of dreams. His breath clouded back around his face, warm and smelling of sleep. His eyes ached and he was so sore and drained that he felt like he had climbed Mount Everest. Which is totally impossible; Kenma got out of breath just walking up a couple flights of stairs. He wouldn’t make it more than ten meters up the mountain before waving the white flag.
Kuroo shifted and the blankets skimmed Kenma’s skin. He shivered from the loss of the warm parts of the fabric. He curled into Kuroo, absorbing all the body heat he could. Kenma remember last night all too well and wanted to disappear, preferably into the warmth.
“Shit, your hands are so cold,” Kuroo croaked. He twisted his body away from the freezing perpetrators.
Kenma smiled, his lips pulling tight from being stuck together with dried saliva and sleep. He slid his hands under Kuroo’s shirt and pressed them against his sides.
“Stop that,” Kuroo laughed, voice cracking and rough. He rolled around and enveloped Kenma, trapping his hands in his own. Kenma didn’t struggle but leaned into the new warmth. He pressed his face against Kuroo’s collarbones, not ready to properly face him. They settled into that position, breathing slowly and heavily.
Clearing his throat, Kuroo broke the silence. “How are you feeling?”
“Like fucking death,” Kenma muttered. His cracked lips brushed against the soft skin of Kuroo’s neck.
“That’s valid,” Kuroo murmured. He nuzzled the top of Kenma’s head, the blonde locks getting caught in Kuroo’s peach fuzz.
Kenma hummed. He was pleasantly surprised with that response. He expected “you don’t need to panic” or “it’ll get better” like people usually say. Sometimes confirmation feels better than any else. It made him feel sane and like he wasn’t a freak.
Kenma swallowed roughly and asked, “Are you afraid of me?”
Kuroo curved his body to try to look at Kenma. Kenma refused to meet his eyes. “Of course not. Why would I be?”
Kenma took deep, slow breaths. “Because I exploded like that. Because that happens a lot. Aren’t you afraid of it? Or annoyed that you’ll have to see them if we stay close?”
Kenma closed his eyes. People generally could understand the sadness or anxiety but as soon as he started having inconsolable panic attacks and no energy or motivation to do things, everyone would step away. They’d be weirded out and disdainful like “Whoa, what the fuck, just stop.” As soon as his mental disorder extended beyond what the media covered, people shied away in fear and disgust.
“No, I’m not.” Kenma opened his eyes and scanned Kuroo’s face. He bit his lip as he tried to think of the right words. “They’re not your fault and I just want to help you when they happen. I don’t like seeing you in pain. But…,” Kuroo trailed off.
Kenma tensed.
“I’m afraid that I can’t help. That maybe I’m not strong enough for the both of us,” he exhaled. His voice wavered with question and uncertainty.
Kenma drank that in. It was so unlike Kuroo. Maybe Kenma had been thinking Kuroo was this sort of superhero dork who could do anything. Not everyone is a strong as they seem.
“You don’t have to be,” Kenma said then paused. In a quieter tone, “But you are. You are enough. If- if you want to stay.”
Kenma felt Kuroo’s chuckle reverberate in his chest more than heard the exhalation. “Isn’t that clear already?”
The tension in Kenma’s shoulders melted away with his exhale. The blankets suddenly felt too warm but he wouldn’t move for the world. The feeling of safety and support seeped into him with every breath. Sensing his relief and bliss, Kuroo turned his head and kissed Kenma’s cheek. His lips left a lingering sensation.
~.~
The weird thing with mental illness is that despite all the inner turmoil, the world continues spinning. Life keeps going. Classes kept meeting, people walked their dogs through campus, squirrels hid food for the winter, and the cafeteria’s coffee was still weak.
Kenma avoided the music building like he was allergic to it. His fingers would twitch with the desire to play but he refused to set foot in the place. He showed up to work, but did so quietly and left as soon as possible. Kenma found himself hiding in his room more than ever before, afraid that he would have another panic attack. He skipped class, trusting the syllabi to do his homework. He ordered food and ate it in his room unless someone dragged him to the cafeteria. Even then, he would choose a table far from prying eyes and make his friends wait in the lines to bring him food.
“Hey, Kenma?” Lev asked.
Kenma looked up from his nest of blankets, blinking blearily. He inclined his head as acknowledgment.
Lev twirled his pencil around his fingers. “Uhm, don’t take this the wrong way but are you alright? You barely eat or go to class.”
Kenma sunk down in his nest, groaning. He shook his head, hair creating static electricity against the fabric as it rubbed against his comforter.
“Can I do anything to help?” Lev asked hesitantly.
Kenma shook his head again. “I don’t think so.”
“Whatever’s happening,” Lev started, unsure. “It’s not your fault if your brain is doing weird things.”
Kenma stared at him.
Lev waved his hands, trying to clear his words. “Like, if it’s a mind thing, it’s just like any other sickness. It’s not you, ya know?”
Hunkering down, Kenma processed Lev’s words. This panicky and anxious mindset was the only one Kenma’s known. Is there really something else other than that in him? How can he even separate his brain chemicals fucking up from his own thoughts? Is it even possible?
“It’s like a cold or a broken arm or something. You can get help or medicine to try to fix it,” Lev continued.
“Kuroo and Hinata said the same thing,” Kenma mumbled.
Lev shrugged, his lanky limbs and apologetic expression looking like the emoji.
Kenma stewed on Lev’s words all day. Gathering what little scraps of courage he had, he skipped classes again the next day and forced himself to go to the college’s health clinic. Stepping up to the desk, he was amazed at himself for finally bringing himself to do this. While he did want this hell in his mind to stop, he also felt guilty each day that passed after all his friends told him to seek help. The guilt from ignoring them would eat him alive.
The visit was quick and clean. The nurse took his vitals, had him sign some papers, and sent in the doctor. Kenma quietly explained his situation and she wrote him up a couple prescriptions, one for the anxiety and one for panic attacks. As soon as the college psychologist was free, he would start sessions with them. Kenma could barely pronounce the names or even process all the details but nodded as the doctor spoke. He took comfort in the fact that a lot of people came to the clinic with the same complaints as him. It was so quick and painless, nothing like the drama he had envisioned.
Kenma sent Lev to pick up his medicine the next day. He looked ecstatic to be asked to do something and that Kenma had followed his advice. Kenma could imagine him wagging a tail from the excitement.
Every night, Kenma looked at the little light red pills in the bottle, wondering if they were working. He didn’t feel any different. Except for the insomnia, though that should go away according to the doctor. He kept the emergency pills for panic in his backpack. They made him incredibly sleepy and his limbs heavy. After taking one after a class, he snorted to himself. Can’t fucking panic if I’m too sleepy, I guess, he thought bitterly. He hated the effect but welcomed the fast relief from his attacks. At least he could almost function like a normal person instead of having to run and hide every time.
Two weeks after the audition, the results came out. Kenma refused to look at them. He ignored the email and tuned out any chatter about it. Kuroo, however, would have none of that.
“Kenma, let me in.” Kuroo knocked on his dorm door. “You’ll want to hear this.”
Kenma groaned loudly before shuffling over to unlock the door. Kuroo bounded in and sat on his bed, shit-eating grin on his face. Kenma collapsed on his face next to him, hip pressed against his thigh.
“Just fuck me up,” he mumbled into the comforter. He could argue either way decently enough, both with logic and emotions. The anxiety from not knowing was eating away at his mind, even though the panic from knowing would probably disable him, too.
“You were accepted,” Kuroo announced, laying a hand on the small of Kenma’s back. “They thought you were amazing.”
The words bubbled up his throat and he vomited them, the acid and self-hate burning his mouth. “That’s bullshit. I messed up.”
“That’s not true, you-“
Kenma bolted upright, fighting sudden tears. “Please. Don’t argue with me on this one.” Kenma felt the explanations and arguments flying around his mind. You’re so talented. Your song was amazing. They’re lucky to get someone like you. It wasn’t that big of an error. The anxiety was louder. Panicked emotions were glued to the memories, tainting everything and refusing to let go. As much as Kenma wanted to believe otherwise, nothing would change his mind.
Thoughts like that made Kenma’s heart clench. Was there even any hope for him? Where does his mental disorder end and his personality and own thoughts start?
Kuroo sighed. He reached out and cupped his face. “You’ll get better.”
Kenma leaned into his hand, closing his eyes. “I really hope so.”
Kuroo combed his hand through Kenma’s hair. “So are you going to go to the rehearsals?”
Kenma snorted. “Of course.”
Kuroo smiled. “Figures.” He tackled Kenma onto the bed and hugged him close. He ran his fingers up Kenma’s sides, tickling him.
“I’m not ticklish,” Kenma stated, squirming.
“Are too,” Kuroo countered, moving to Kenma’s back and arms.
“Am not.”
Kuroo tried his legs, his feet, and even his hands. His lights fingers danced on his skin but elicited no response that could be considered “ticklish.” “Are too.”
“Am not.” Kuroo hands brushed the back of his neck, right at his hairline. The jolt made Kenma’s arch away, breath stolen by a laugh.
“Are too!” Kuroo yelled victoriously.
Kenma laughed and tried to tickle Kuroo back. Their squirming and wrestling rolled the sheets around their legs. They ended up pressed against each other, wrapped in a burrito of blankets. Their hands still lingered on each other’s bodies, trapped by fabric. It felt so natural to be like this. Kenma didn’t feel any pressure to move closer or further. In this moment, he was free from his anxiety of worrying about making the correct choice or his appearance. He only focused on the utter joy and comfort of being close to Kuroo.
Kuroo pecked Kenma on the cheek, hands still on his shoulders. Kenma turned and pulled Kuroo closer, hands on his neck. The pure happiness of being close to someone who cared about him spilled out of his heart, lightening his limbs and thoughts. Skipping the gentle, Kenma kissed him with an open mouth. Kuroo gave a surprised murp, not unlike a cat after being disturbed, but gladly reciprocated. He bit Kenma’s lip, his teeth leaving a lasting sensation from the force. How odd that it didn’t hurt. Kuroo’s tongue brushed Kenma’s own, and strange and foreign sensation sending goose bumps down his arms.
Their tongues battled for dominance.
The line popped in Kenma’s mind. He pulled away, hiding his giggles in Kuroo’s neck. He pressed his lips together, tasting the foreign saliva that was covering them.
“Did I do something weird?” Kuroo asked, confused.
Kenma shook his head. “I just thought of something dumb.”
“Which was?” Kuroo pressed, drawing out the last syllable.
Kenma chewed on his lip, testing how hard he could bite before it hurt. It never really did. I wonder what that can spell for making out.“You know how in cheesy fanfics they always say ‘Their tongues battled for dominance’?”
Kuroo started laughing. “Would you like to do battle with me, Sir Kozume?” He stuck out his tongue and wagged it suggestively.
“I’m so turned off,” Kenma scoffed. He pushed away and snapped his head up, away from Kuroo’s reach.
“You wound me so.”
“Shut up, I wanna sleep.”
Kuroo laughed and ran his hands through Kenma’s hair, splaying it out on his pillow. He kissed Kenma’s forehead. “Sweet dreams, Pudding Head.”
“If I re-dye my hair, will you stop calling me that?”
“Probably not. Does it bother you?”
“Nope,” Kenma answered brightly. He wasn’t sure if it was the medicine messing with his mood or if being around Kuroo made him so relaxed that he could admit things like that but he wasn’t sure he really wanted to know.
~.~
“What is an atom?” Kenma groaned. He collapsed face-first into his textbook.
“I know you’re not good at chemistry but,” Lev said with a confused grimace.
Kenma held a hand to stop his sentence. He heard Lev shuffle in his seat as Yaku smacked him. Yaku was over often to study or just escape from his own dorm. Kenma liked his motherly presence that he just couldn’t hide with his angry senpai act. He kept Lev in line and exuded an air of safety.
“Who’s your professor?” Yaku asked. He was sitting on the corner of Lev’s desk, his laptop balanced on his crossed legs.
“Professor Nekomata.”
Yaku pulled a face of disgust and sympathy. “He is literally the worst. He honestly doesn’t know how to teach. No wonder you’re struggling so much.”
Kenma sat up, pages clinging to his face and almost tearing. “Really?”
Yaku nodded and added, “I’ve seen organic chem majors walk out of his class in confusion about what an atom even is.”
Kenma leaned back. He always thought he just sucked at chemistry. He never bothered to think about any different reasons other than his perceived inadequacy.
Yaku hopped on the desk and peered at Kenma’s textbook and problem set. “I can help you, if you want.”
Kenma chewed on his lip. He did not like receiving or asking for help. It made him feel incapable and small. He got enough of that from his brain. He started to shake his head.
“Too bad, I’m helping you,” Yaku announced. He sat on the edge of Kenma’s bed and started reading the first problem. He glanced at Kenma. “It’s alright to ask for help,” he added quietly.
Kenma felt a blush of shame crawl across his face. Technically he knew that but just could never feel it. He couldn’t make the idea apply to himself. Eventually he just gave up and settled into his solitary life.
As Yaku explained the concepts and problems, Kenma felt better. It was a lot less complicated than his mind and professor made it seem. He was grateful for the assistance, no matter how bad he felt for having Yaku explain it. Yaku promised to help him with his next problem set and Kenma felt a relief settle over him. He could pass this class. With help, he could understand the concepts. It may have been a weird side effect or maybe the drugs were working but that realization lifted an enormous weight off his chest. For once in a long time, Kenma felt like he could actually get through this. He knew the feeling would wear off and things would get hard again but the lingering hope was enough. I can do this, he thought.
The unfamiliar feeling of courage and optimism was enough to make him want to cry. All he’s ever wanted was to be able to live his life without all the intrusive thoughts and unjustified fears and constant self-hate. The tiny step away from those dark ideas might have been inconsequential to anyone else but it meant the world to him. It’s not like his problems magically went away. He could feel the reality of his future choices and the need to decide looming but it no longer scared him like before.
~.~
The day of the concert rolled up so fast, too fast. Kenma barely felt prepared. He was at the point where he could play the songs pretty much at the level he desired but it was like he just reached that level. It was like setting the difficulty on a game higher without passing the one before.
At the first rehearsal, Kenma kept his head down and tried to play quietly. He wanted to blend in. He practiced his music every day even though they only had an official rehearsal once a week. Though these people didn’t know him, he felt like he owed them. While it made him play well, the guilt and dark emotions associated with it made him sad. He wished he could play with no regrets or pain, especially the types that came from people’s expectations and judgments.
Kenma tucked and un-tucked his dress shirt from his black skinny jeans. He squinted at himself in the mirror. He decided to just take it off and put on a black shirt and cardigan.
“You look fine, you diva,” Kuroo intoned. He was lying on his back on Kenma’s bed.
“What if I don’t look fancy enough?” Kenma fiddled with the hem of his shirt.
Kuroo sat up. He hair stuck up even more from his lounging. “I swear I saw a violinist go in a pair sneakers and a viola in a mini-dress. You’ll at the perfect level of classiness.”
Kenma played with the toes of his dress shoes, sliding the inner corners off each other. “I guess…”
Kuroo got up and strolled over to Kenma, hugging him around the waist and resting his chin on his shoulder. “You look perfectly fancy and concert-ready,” he said. A smirk spread and Kenma froze. He kissed Kenma’s neck, gently sucking on the skin. “Pretty hot too,” he whispered, his breath billowing over his saliva-slick neck. Kenma gulped.
“You are literally illegal,” he gasped, pulling away.
Kuroo struck a pose. “It should be illegal to be this sexy.”
“Nerd,” Kenma scoffed. Kuro, shut the fuck up, oh my god, I can’t handle you.
Kuroo smirked. “You wish you were this cool.”
Kenma rolled his eyes. Settling with his outfit, he opened his closet to pull out his cello.
“That doesn’t look like Apple Pi’s case,” Kuroo commented, a knowing look in his eyes.
“I wish you wouldn’t name my instruments for me,” Kenma sighed.
“If I don’t, who will?”
Kenma sighed, dropping his shoulder in an attempt to fight down his amused grin. “Minori let me have it,” he explained. He let a small smile pull at his lips at the memory.
Kenma always practiced his most difficult pieces in the shop. The concert songs weren’t extravagantly difficult but Kenma wanted to play them at his highest possible best. The beautiful cello there was almost as familiar as his own at this point. He was playing a part that was stuck in his head when Minori asked him if he was in a show. They were closing up but Kenma was reluctant to put away the cello.
“Yeah, in two weeks. It’s at the college and free if you want to come listen,” he said.
Minori smiled. “I think I will.” She rearranged some of her tools, lining them up perfectly. “Also,” she continued without turning around. “You can keep that. I think you’ve earned it at this point.”
Kenma’s heart fell out of his ass and he almost fell off the edge of his seat in shock. “I haven’t earned enough money though, Minori-san,” he countered.
She waved away his concerns. “As long as you keep coming in for work, I trust you can fully pay it off eventually.”
Kenma stuttered, “Thank you so much.”
Minori winked. “If anyone asks where you got it, tell them to come here.”
Kenma fought to keep his expression from breaking into pure joy and gratefulness. “Will do.”
She laughed and pat his shoulder, much stronger and heavier than one would assume she could.
Kuroo smiled slowly as Kenma recounted the story. “She sees your talent, too,” he said after Kenma finished.
Kenma bowed his head and let his hair hide his blush. Despite knowing he had talent, compliments, even if they were just facts, still embarrassed him.
After the details were set and ready, Kenma and Kuroo walked together to the music building, making comments and predictions about the crowd and other players. They parted at the entrance to back stage, Kuroo insisting on a good luck hug and kiss. Kenma flushed at the affectionate gestures but couldn’t find the desire in him to say no.
Selecting an empty part of the back stage, Kenma opened his cello case. He smiled softly at the sight of the familiar instrument. After picking out the bow and music, he quietly walked to his place on stage and warmed up. He closed his eyes and focused on his sound, ignoring all the other instruments. He tuned, correcting the strings that were too flat or too sharp.
People started filing in, their chatter growing louder. The sounds echoed in the concert hall, magnifying even the quietest whisper. Kenma avoided looking into the crowd and was glad that the lights blocked out most people anyways.
Eventually, the conductor came out and hushed the crowd. He explained who they were and their first pieces. He turned around and raised his hands. The entire orchestra moved as one, placing their bows just over their strings and moving their fingers into the position of the first note. The conductor silently counted an empty measure before starting the piece.
Kenma was awestruck by the sound they produced. Everyone was on time and playing the correct notes. His fingers knew where to go before he had even consciously processed the music. The eighth notes grew quicker and quicker for violins while he heard the cellos and the double bass droning on beside him. The ones to his right were playing the melody and the ones to him left playing the middle line. He could feel the notes resounding perfectly in his instrument, fingers moving to form the octaves, and hands pressing the strings with the accents. His movements flowed so smoothly he was in shock though his body knew to continue playing. He shivered listening to the violins play their soli and he lead the dramatic transition. The sounds swept over him like a warm childhood blanket. He’d never felt so at peace and connected with utter strangers.
This feeling, this ecstasy was why Kenma kept playing. Even through the anxiety and learning how to play and getting better and making more mistakes than he could count, this feeling kept him playing. It was like a drug and he never wanted to stop.
Before he knew it, their part was finished. They had blown through their five pieces and it was time for the main band to take the stage. They all stood and bowed before filing off the stage. The excitement still ran through Kenma’s veins and he could barely stay still. He was overjoyed that he remembered all his accidentals and accents and, most importantly, played no wrong notes.
Kenma carefully packed up his cello. His band mates congratulated him and he reciprocated the pleasantry. Still high of the performance, he actually meant his compliments. He had barely walked out into the hallway before Kuroo swept him up in a hug. Kenma laughed and held onto his cello with one arm and Kuroo with the other.
“You were amazing!” Kuroo gushed, putting him down.
Kenma blushed and looked away.
Kuroo took his arm and started down the hall. “So how shall we celebrate?”
Kenma shrugged. They passed through the door and the cool night air filled their lungs. It’s like nature came together to make some kind of symbolism for my life, Kenma laughed. “This was my first real concert basically. I don’t know what people do after them,” he said instead.
“Do classical musicians party?” Kuroo wondered.
“Probably.”
“It’s weird to imagine all those uptight people twerking to trap music or something,” Kuroo said. Kenma snorted at the idea. “You know, I think you’d be a good dancer,” he added with a mischievous tone.
“I think you’re wrong.”
“Sources?” Kuroo teased, all hooded eyes and lazy smirk.
Kenma scoffed though his nerves were suddenly hyperaware.
Kuroo snaked his arm around Kenma’s hips, his legs easily matching Kenma’s stride. “You certainly have the body for it.”
Kenma tried to scoff again and deny it but couldn’t find his voice. All his senses were on edge, feeling Kuroo’s hand on his hips, Kuroo’s side brushing against his every step, the smell of Kuroo’s cologne, just Kuroo. It had Kenma breathing shallowly. He wasn’t sure if it was a bad thing or good thing and couldn’t find the brain space to mull it over. Their dorm materialized in from of Kenma as he struggled to clear his thoughts for a moment.
“There’s no one in my room if you want to hang out there,” Kuroo suggested. His voice was a little stilted and oddly quiet though he was forcing himself to sound casual.
Kenma’s nerves stood on end. What was happening? Is there some kind of other meaning to those words? How does being in a relationship work? What do I do? I mean, I wouldn’t mind making out with him but what if it escalates? I don’t want that.
All the emotions crashing around Kenma’s brain shattered his verbal filter. “Are you trying to seduce me?”
Kuroo jumped away as if Kenma had shocked him. “I- I’m uh.” His face grew redder and hand gestured more frantic with each stutter. Kenma had never seen Kuroo so distraught and embarrassed.
Kenma broke out laughing. Honestly, fuck any logic right now. We are the two most awkward people ever. Kenma felt like he was watching the scene from a third perspective.
Kuroo’s face fell and he hunched over, trying to hide himself much like Kenma does himself. Kenma put down his cello and hugged him, standing on his tiptoes so he could reach his arms around Kuroo’s shoulders.
“It’s just…” Kenma started. Kuroo froze as Kenma scoured his mind for the right words to match his whirling emotions. “You look really cute when you’re frazzled,” he mumbled, face heating up despite the cold wind. He felt Kuroo lightly rest his arms around him, still hesitant.
“I do not.”
“Do too.” Kenma hid his smirk in Kuroo’s collar. He was finally on the other side of this type of argument.
Kenma felt Kuroo’s chuckle. “Do not.” Kuroo countered.
“Do too, you nerd.”
“Do not.” Kuroo tightened his arms around Kenma and spun him gently from side to side. Kenma clutched Kuroo’s shoulders to maintain is precarious balance on his tiptoes as Kuroo swung them.
“So fucking do too.” Kenma pulled back just enough to kiss Kuroo. He kept his touch light and smoothing. He could feel the torn skin of his lips from worrying at them slide against Kuroo’s own smooth ones. Kuroo sighed in pleasure and parted his lips. Kenma could taste the sweet gum Kuroo had been chewing earlier on his tongue. Kenma played with the hair at the nape of Kuroo’s neck, gently nudging him into a deeper kiss. He delicately kissed the corners of Kuroo’s mouth, down his chin, and across his throat. Kuroo relaxed into the kisses, his tense muscles calming under Kenma’s touch.
As soon as Kenma reached the side of Kuroo’s neck, he felt Kuroo stiffen. Kuroo swallowed and took in a shuddering breath. Feeling adventurous, Kenma nipped at the sensitive spot. His nose brushed against his jaw line and his longer blonde hair slipped over the collar of Kuroo’s jacket. He could feel Kuroo’s hands squeeze n his hips and press his face into his shoulder. The muffled noises Kuroo tried to hold in amused him.
“Uh, you know we’re still in public, right?” Kuroo asked, voice high and thin as Kenma sucked on the skin of his neck.
Kenma hummed and pulled away. “Fair point.” He glanced at the skin, mildly proud that it was lightly red.
Kuroo teased him for seeming eager as they walked up the stairs to his room. Kenma still felt as if this were a dream. He knew he wanted this, to be with Kuroo and kiss him and tell him anything. However, he knew he should tell Kuroo he was sex-repulsed. He would have to any moment. But an overwhelming and foreign feeling has taken control of his limbs. It definitely wasn’t lust. Kenma still had no desire for sex, with Kuroo or anyone else. However, the desire to keep kissing Kuroo and to be close guided his actions. Kenma didn’t like this weirdly moving force but also wasn’t in opposition to its desires.
Maybe he doesn’t want sex, Kenma thought distantly as they walked into Kuroo’s room. The sudden exhaustion of the impending discussion sank into his limbs. He threw himself back onto Kuroo’s bed as soon as they entered the dorm.
“Dramatic much?” Kuroo asked, lying down next to him.
All the emotions roiling in him were becoming uncovered as the high of the concert wore off and his immediate issues crept up. He didn’t want to panic again. Instead, he would let out his concerns and stop it before it starts. He was having too much fun for the moment to be ruined by his mental illness. “Kuroo, I don’t have sex.” Well, so much for tact.
Kuroo looked confused. “You already told me this,” he said slowly.
“Then why were you so embarrassed when you asked me to come to your room?” Kenma asked, turning his head to look at Kuroo. Had he read something wrong? Had he, somewhere along his overthinking, come to the wrong conclusion?
“Because I knew it would sound like that and I was hoping you’d understand that I didn’t mean sex,” Kuroo explained abashedly.
Kenma rolled over and squashed his burning face into the comforter. I was wrong. I overthought so hard that I missed the obvious. This is so embarrassing.
“And maybe I just wanted to lie down with you and maybe kiss some more,” Kuroo added shyly.
“You’re so embarrassing,” Kenma whined. He turned over and hid in Kuroo’s chest. “I’m so embarrassing.”
“And so what if we are?” Kuroo countered with a happy tone. He wrapped his arms around Kenma and pulled him flush against himself.
“Then thank the gods no one can see us,” Kenma commented, a small smile on his mouth.
Kuroo smiled, eyes crinkling. His smile was so big that it wavered from all the emotions it tried to convey, all the emotions he couldn’t keep inside. All the love and admiration and joy and hope. He closed the gap between them, pressing their smiling lips together. This is definitely something I can live with, Kenma thought, heart almost hurting from the elation and adoration.
Things are going to be alright.