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Kuroo most definitely does not think that boy in their creative writing class is cute.
In fact, he is kind of ridiculous, with that weird hair of his (Shut up, Kenma, my hair is not as weird as his!), those gigantic yellow eyes, that big, bright smile that always comes so easy to his lips, those big, strong hands… okay, so maybe he does think he is cute.
But he most definitely does not have a crush on him.
How he could have a crush on a guy who keeps blurting the wrong answers in class with such confidence, even after his fifteenth failed attempt? Granted, maybe he finds that a little bit cute, endearing, almost, but that does not mean he has a crush on him, alright?
And he is most definitely not nervous about his first date with the dumb, ridiculous boy in his creative writing class. He took so long in the shower because hygiene is important, and he is taking even longer picking out an outfit because he has a reputation to maintain. Kuroo Tetsurou must always be impeccably dressed, because as blessed as he is by his dashing good looks, a hunk like him can’t afford to make a mediocre effort at picking out his clothes.
He wonders what Bokuto is going to wear. Maybe he is going to wear that nice leather jacket that he always wears when it’s cold, and maybe those black skinny jeans that make his butt look so round and cute… not that Kuroo was staring, or anything, is just that he is always arriving late to class, and he always sits right in front of him. It’s nearly impossible not to notice such things. But, anyways, Kuroo most definitely hopes that he wears that grey beanie that he wears sometimes, not because it suits him, or anything, but because it hides that dumb, ridiculous hair of his. Who styles his hair like that, anyway? And no, Kenma, I don’t style my hair, it just looks like this, okay!?
“You do know that you’ve been talking about him for like an hour, right?” Kenma deadpans from his bed right next to their shared closet, his eyes fixed on his PSP, and an expression that would be indecipherable for anyone other than Kuroo. But he knows Kenma like the back of his hand, and he immediately recognizes the mild annoyance that adorns his friend’s features.
“Oh, I didn’t know that you could keep track of time while you played your games,” Kuroo retorts, returning his gaze to his closet, where he is inspecting almost every item of clothing he owns, until he can finally find something that he wants to wear. “Will remember that the next time I ask you to do the laundry in the morning, and then come back in the afternoon to find the laundry still inside the god damned basket.”
Kuroo can practically hear Kenma roll his eyes behind him. He watches from the mirror attached to their closet door as Kenma pauses his game, and drops the console on his lap to give him a highly unamused look.
“Just admit that you have a massive crush on the guy.”
“I do not,” Kuroo begins, slowly turning around and pointing his finger at Kenma’s face. “Have a crush on him.”
“You’re making the same face your mother makes when she scolds your dog,” Kenma observes, and Kuroo yelps indignantly.
“Remind me again why I decided to be your roommate?”
“Because you got kicked out of your other apartment, because you couldn’t pay rent by yourself.”
“Point is!” Kuroo says, a little bit louder than necessary, before returning his attention to their closet. “I don’t have a crush on him.”
“Then why are you going out with him tonight?”
“He asked me nicely.”
Kenma stares at Kuroo’s back while he desperately rummages around his closet, wondering if Kuroo is being oblivious, proud, or both. He settles on the second option when he sees him pull out his favorite red button down shirt with a triumphant “hah!”, deciding that no human could be oblivious enough to think that they don’t have a crush on someone after spending nearly an hour picking out an outfit to go on a date with them.
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It all started when Kenma asked Kuroo to take a creative writing class with him. Kuroo was reluctant at first; writing had never been an interest of his, much less a hobby. He finally agreed when Kenma confessed that he didn’t want to go alone, since it would be his first class of the week, and, being a freshman, he was nervous about meeting new people and trying to make new friends. Kuroo, being the kind person he is, simply couldn’t refuse to help out a friend in need. Much less when Kenma had saved his ass by agreeing to become his roommate.
So, there they were, Tuesday at eight in the morning, ready for their first creative writing lesson. By the time the twentieth minute of the class had passed, Kuroo was already starting to regret every choice in his life that had lead him to be sitting in a classroom at such an ungodly hour, taking a class he didn’t have the slightest interest in. At least Kenma had suggested stopping at that coffee shop near their apartment before going to class; Kuroo would have been asleep long ago otherwise.
Just as he was about to voice his tedium to Kenma, the classroom door was flung open all of sudden. Nearly everyone in the room flinched in surprise, every pair of eyes instantly flying to the person standing in the doorway. His disheveled clothes and heavy breathing were tell-tale signs that he had run all the way there.
“I’m so sorry!” the newcomer exclaimed, way louder than necessary. “I overslept!”
Nobody moved an inch, a complete silence befalling the room after such a sudden entrance.
“T-that’s fine, please take a seat,” the professor said after a few moments, still more than a little surprised at the sudden interruption.
The boy nodded, and rushed to find a free seat. His eyes lit up when he found someone amongst the crowd, and he hurriedly made his way over to the free seat right in front of Kuroo.
“I can’t believe you’re late to the first lesson, Bokuto-san,” a dark-haired boy next to him chastised him quietly, but loud enough for Kuroo and Kenma to hear.
“Akaashi! Why didn’t you wake me up!? You know I always sleep through my alarm!” the other boy, Bokuto, complained. His friend rolled his eyes at him, and returned his attention to the teacher. Once he realized his friend was ignoring him, Bokuto turned around on his seat, his wide golden eyes immediately falling on Kuroo. “Hey, do you have a pen I can borrow?”
Kenma had noticed it immediately, the way Kuroo’s eyes lit up as soon as the boy had walked into the room, in all his multi-colored hair glory. A half-uttered sentence had died on its way past his lips, as he straightened his back and raised his head slightly to get a better look at the tardy student.
If there is one thing Kenma would always recognize, it is the face Kuroo makes when something catches his interest. And that had been, without a doubt, the face he was making right then.
And then, when the tardy student had turned around to face him, with a few strands of black and white hair falling from the haphazard bun on his head, and an easy smile adorning his lips, Kenma could clearly see a different kind of gleam in Kuroo’s eyes. In that single moment, his expression had gone from interested, to something Kenma had never seen before on Kuroo’s face, but was smart enough to recognize.
“S-sure,” Kuroo stammered, rummaging around his pencil case and taking out a pen.
“Thanks!” The other boy smiled brightly as he took the pen Kuroo offered him. “I’m Bokuto, by the way!”
“Kuroo.”
“Kuroo…” Bokuto repeated his name, almost as if he was testing the feel of it on his lips. Then, he gave him yet another wide grin, and Kenma could’ve sworn he saw a slight blush on Kuroo’s cheeks. “That’s a nice name! I like it!”
With that, Bokuto turned back around on his seat. He exchanged a few hushed whispers with his friend, and then turned his attention to the professor. Kenma’s eyes remained on Kuroo, who, in turn, didn’t tear his gaze from the back of Bokuto’s head.
In that moment, watching him, Kenma had been sure that Kuroo had already lost a battle he hadn’t been expecting to fight when he agreed to take that class with him.
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Kuroo has just finished buttoning up his shirt when the doorbell rings. He turns his head towards the front door at neck-breaking speed, the shrill little sound instantly filling him with dread.
“Kenma!” he exclaims in a panic-filled voice. “What time is it?”
“Almost seven.”
“Shit!”
Kuroo turns back around to face the mirror again, rushing to fix his hair, his clothes, his face, his-
“Kuro.” Kenma’s soft voice puts an end to Kuroo’s frantic scrambling. His wide eyes fall on the mirror image of Kenma’s cat-like stare, always so honest, and strangely soothing in the most familiar way. “You look good. Relax.”
Kuroo stares at him through the mirror for a couple of silent moments, his hands still holding the collar of his shirt. Then, he slowly takes in a deep breath, and exhales softly before nodding once.
“Yeah,” he mumbles, and nods once again, his trademark smirk finding its way to his lips. “Yeah, of course I look good.”
Instead of rolling his eyes like he usually would, Kenma gives him the faintest of smiles, and nods as well. The doorbell rings once again, but this time, Kuroo keeps his composure. He gives the mirror one last look of determination before stepping out of the room, grabbing his jacket from the desktop chair and shooting a cheery “See you later!” to Kenma on his way out.
Kuroo opens the front door to Bokuto’s wide, bright smile, and big golden eyes. He is wearing that leather jacket, those black skinny jeans, and that grey beanie, and Kuroo has to take a moment to thank the gods for whichever string of events lead to his date wearing that exact combination of clothes because hot damn, he looks good.
“Hey,” Bokuto greets him bashfully, fiddling with the hem of his shirt.
“Hey,” Kuroo greets him back, leaning against the doorway to feign a confidence that he is far from feeling. In fact, he feels anything but confident, with his stomach tied-up in knots, and his heart doing somersaults inside his chest. But Bokuto doesn’t have to know that. After all, Kuroo is doing a great job at hiding how nervous he feels.
“You look really nice.”
God damn it.
“T-thanks,” Kuroo stammers out, looking down at his red button-down shirt and beige skinny jeans in an attempt to hide his rapidly-blushing cheeks. All that time choosing what to wear was well spent, it seems. He returns his gaze to Bokuto’s face with a tiny smirk playing on his lips. “You look really nice too.”
Bokuto looks down at his feet and chuckles lightly, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head. A soft shade of pink dusts his cheeks, visible despite his efforts to hide it.
“Fuck, he’s so cute,” Kuroo thinks, covering his mouth with his hand to cover the gigantic grin that pulls on his lips.
“Shall we go?” Bokuto’s voice snaps him out of his thoughts. Kuroo nods and steps out of his apartment, closing the door behind himself. When he turns back around, he finds that Bokuto is offering him his arm with an expectant look on his face. Kuroo laughs lightly, and then loops his arm around Bokuto’s, inwardly admiring the perfection of his biceps, evident to the sight, and now undeniable under his touch.
“What a gentleman!” Kuroo says with a wiggle of his eyebrows, just as they begin to walk away from the front door.
“Well, get ready, cause this is only, like, ten percent of my gentleman-ess!” Bokuto announces proudly, and Kuroo can’t stop himself from laughing heartily at his words, and the determined expression on his face. “I’m serious!” Bokuto insists, his words only increasing Kuroo’s amusement. “This is gonna be the best date you’ve ever had!”
“I’m sure it will,” Kuroo says, and he is perfectly confident in that fact.
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Text from Kuro (7:33 p.m.): “He’s going to kill me.”
Text to Kuro (7:33 p.m.): “what did he do?”
Text from Kuro (7:34 p.m.): “This motherfucker is the cutest little shit ever.”
Text to Kuro (7:37 p.m.): “corny”
Text from Kuro (8:02 p.m.): “I’m serious! He’s way cuter than I expected!”
Text to Kuro (8:03 p.m.): “tell him that you’ve had a crush on him since you first saw him”
Text from Kuro (8:15 p.m.): “Thanks for your advice, but I’d rather jump off a cliff.”
Text to Kuro (8:15 p.m.): “both options are fine tbh”
Text from Kuro (10:03): “I love you too, you little shit.”
֍֎֍֎֍
It’s nearly three a.m. when Kuroo returns from his date, and Kenma is still wide awake. Even though he is extremely focused on his game, he still doesn’t miss the gigantic grin that lights up Kuroo’s face as he steps into their bedroom, greeting him with a cheerful “‘Sup, kitty-cat?”
“How was your date?” Kenma asks, choosing, just this once, to ignore the terrible nickname that Kuroo has tormented him with since they were kids.
“Fucking amazing,” Kuroo replies. He flops down on his bed, and stares at the ceiling with a dopey smile. “Remember when I told you that I didn’t have a crush on him?”
“Yup.”
“It was a complete lie.”
“Of course it was.” Kenma pauses his game before turning to face Kuroo. “Did you kiss him?”
“Of course I did.”
“That’s nice.”
“Your levels of enthusiasm are always impressive.”
֍֎֍֎֍
A couple weeks later, when Bokuto begins seating next to Kuroo in class, Kenma is glad to find out that Akaashi is nice enough to talk to once Kuroo begins to ignore him. Neither of them wants to interrupt the two lovebirds, anyway.
He is not surprised when Bokuto starts showing up to their apartment more and more frequently, and he is not too bothered, either. Bokuto is a nice guy, albeit a little bit too loud, and he makes Kuroo smile the widest he has ever smiled, and laugh the loudest he has ever laughed. And, when Kuroo starts kicking him out of their apartment so he and Bokuto can have some time alone, Kenma is glad to know that he can always go to Akaashi and Bokuto’s apartment to drink a cup of tea with Akaashi until Kuroo texts him that it’s okay to come back.
After a particularly traumatic event that neither him nor Kuroo ever mention again, he still always waits at least another hour after he gets the text before returning to their place, though.
At the end of the semester, when Kuroo submits an entire poetry anthology describing Bokuto’s hair, and eyes, and smile as his final project for their creative writing class, Kenma only scoffs and rolls his eyes.
“Remember when you denied that you had a crush on Bokuto?”
Kuroo merely laughs, and shakes his head fondly at the memory. And Kenma smiles, watching from the living room table, where he’s drinking some tea with Akaashi, as Kuroo flops down on the couch next to Bokuto, and rests his head on his shoulder, sighing contentedly when Bokuto presses a soft kiss to his forehead.
“We both knew I was lying.”