vanescue
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Summary
“I don’t want to talk to you,” Kageyama snapped, turning his body away as if to close off any further communications and prove his point.
Oikawa clicked his tongue. “That’s too bad.”
“Why are you even here? You never wanted to be anywhere near me before.”
Sighing away a multitude of emotions, Oikawa flicked the back of Kageyama’s head, ignoring the boy’s grumbled curse lest he actually feel guilty. He had a staircase to repent for, a sore head could barely be considered a step.
“You’re an idiot.”
“Hah?” Kageyama peered upwards, one hand behind his head still rubbing over the sore patch.
“Do you see anyone else coming to look for you? No, so you’re stuck with me. I’ll accept that thank you now.”
Or: Oikawa watches that game and goes to find Kageyama afterwards. Their relationship has always been historically rigid, but maybe a murky corridor, a little honesty and a white and turquoise jacket can pave the way for something… else.
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It was just—Kenma was a little weird sometimes. The kind of weird that made Keiji nervous because it reminded him of himself—like maybe there was a lot going on in Kenma’s head, too much, and if he didn’t watch himself he might end up blurting out something unpleasant.
Kenma wore baggy clothes. Today it was a sweatshirt and a thin pair of worn out chinos, but other days it was sweatpants, or loose jeans and two shirts, or a jacket much too warm for the weather.
Maybe he ran cold.But sometimes his hands shook—like they were now. His slender fingers trembled slightly, like leaves in a breeze, and Kenma gazed at them for a moment before tucking them under his legs and focusing back on the front of the room, which Keiji for the life of him couldn’t seem to do himself.
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Or, Kenma doesn't eat enough, so Keiji starts feeding him. Here and there, bit by bit, like coaxing a stray cat into his arms with bits of turkey.