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Kuroo’s parents aren’t big on Christmas. They aren’t grinches, not at all. It’s his maternal grandmother who is the real grinch. It’s more that his parents don’t emphasize Christmas. They don’t decorate or buy a tree or tell their children of Santa. They aren’t spirited, and don’t give their children more than one gift.
Kuroo doesn’t mind. Not until his friends at school tell him all about the stuff their parents do during the holidays. They come in with new toys and clothes like it was their birthday. He wonders why his parents don’t do the same.
The family moves to Tokyo when Kuroo is seven. During the drive he overhears his older brothers hoping their parents will learn to be more festive. He agrees.
They later learn that one family is festive enough for the street. Decorations appear from thin air when the neighborhood wakes on December first. Fake pines topped with red ribbons line the way to the door where a wreath of pine cones and leaves sits. Reindeer made of brown wire eat at the grass and lounge on the porch. The golden lights hurt Kuroo’s eyes the first few nights but when he can finally admire it, he decides the family inside must be very happy.
Later he learns it is not a very happy family. The mother and father are rarely seen in the same room. Their only son has no close friends. Kuroo makes it his life goal to be close with that boy.
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In Kuroo’s third year of middle school, he and Kenma celebrate Christmas in the gym with the volleyball club. The team decided on holding a secret santa event back in November and agreed to meet up at the gym to exchange gifts. The vice captain, as a surprise, brought a platter of cookies along with him.
“They’re homemade,” he says when asked. “My dad loves baking.”
He withholds the cookies until gifts are exchanged and opened. Their ace plays holiday music in English, which most of the team takes turns trying (and, for the most part, failing) to sing along. But they can agree it’s fun. Kenma almost looks like he’s holding back a laugh.
Kuroo tells the vice captain stories about Kenma who, currently, is playing the game his secret santa gave him. He must’ve told these stories a million times but Fujimoto is kind enough to listen yet again.
“It must be nice knowing someone so long,” Fujimoto says. He once mentioned having no childhood friends, and not making any close friends until late last year.
Kuroo nods, leaning back against the wall, “It is. He’s quiet but we understand each other. He’s amazing and I love ‘im.”
“How so?” Fujimoto asks. It’s an innocent question, at least it sounds as such, but Fujimoto is the kind of guy who can dig through another’s inner self. He’s scary like that.
“Good question,” Kuroo says. “Ask me again later.”
He considers it that night when he’s supposed to be sleeping. He feels silly - weren’t emotions simpler than this? - but it keeps him up until two hours before his alarm is meant to go off. He decides he’ll figure it out in the morning.
✣•✣•✣•✣•✣•✣
Kenma begins avoiding Kuroo. He can’t pinpoint when it starts but he knows it’s happening. He doesn’t answer texts or calls, though it’s not like he says a lot anyways, and when he sees the other he makes a point to avoid at all costs.
And all because of stupid emotions. They’re not a difficult thing to figure out. He is in love with his childhood best friend. He knows it’s a cliché movie plot but that doesn’t make it any less true and his love any less real.
It’s what to do about his emotions that he can’t figure out.
He considers just confessing. It’s the easiest way to get everything sorted out. And, in the end, at least he’ll know whether or not his feelings are reciprocated. It sounds much better than what’s happening now. He’d rather live with a rejection, guessing it’s easier to get over, than with unanswered questions.
But it’s a difficult thing to do. He’s not one for expressing his feelings in such a straightforward way. He can’t find the courage to do it.
He finds himself convinced he needs to give Kuroo the world. He is a star in the night sky, maybe even a god in the heavens, who deserves everything to ever exist.
And what does Kenma have to offer? Nothing. Nothing worth much, anyways. If he could rid himself of his anxieties then, maybe, he could offer something closer to decent. Until then, anything he could offer is worth less than copper.
✣•✣•✣•✣•✣•✣
Kenma should’ve known Kuroo would eventually notice. The avoidance goes on for weeks, and he must’ve noticed long before he acted on it.
Interactions become awkward as Kenma’s walls are rebuilt. He goes back in time to when they first met on Kenma’s front porch. He forgets everything about his closest friend - what’s his favorite color? what makes him happy? - and he suddenly feels much like a stranger.
Kuroo is facing Kenma, blocking the door to his house. His hands are stuffed into his coat pockets despite his three layers gloves, and his mouth and nose are hidden behind his scarf. This is it, the confrontation, and Kenma expects it to be some kind of monologue. Kuroo will tell a story from their elementary days, or scold him for letting the walls come back up.
But instead, Kuroo speaks in the softest voice he’s ever used.
“Where did you go? Kenma, where did you go?”
Kenma wants to ask if Kuroo is dumb. He stayed by his side the entire way home, and this is his house. Where is there to go?
“I feel like don’t know you anymore. We met seven years ago, yeah? It feels we’re meeting for the first time today.”
Kenma laughs at himself. Perhaps he was the dumb one for letting this happen. Kuroo is just a boy - not a star or a god - who doesn’t need an offering worth the world. He remembers a promise from his last year of elementary, made because he was more anxious without Kuroo.
In the future, once they have enough money, they will leave for a quieter place. A place where Kenma wouldn’t have to worry about splitting apart or the opinions of actual strangers. He likes this future, not for the extra promises, but for life he’ll lead with Kuroo at his side.
It’ll be great, he thinks in Kuroo’s voice. The one he used when he made the promise.
✣•✣•✣•✣•✣•✣
Kenma and Kuroo go on their first date on Christmas - the day after the confrontation.
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Kenma’s mother, Atsuko, is a fan of Christmas and decorating. During the holidays every room has its own theme and no two are the same. Yet, despite the difference, she always finds a way to make them blend together to give the entire house a cozy, festive feeling.
Every year Atsuko decorates Kenma’s room to fit a general winter theme. Snowflakes hang from the ceiling and some are stuck onto the walls. Several white trees no bigger than a hand litter his desk and dresser. Blue lights flicker where the walls meet. The usual blue, yellow, and white checkered bedsheets change to plain white and gray ones.
“Your festive room will give me a cold one day,” Kuroo says as he falls back onto the bed. The bottom half of his legs dangle off the edge.
Kenma scoffs, not looking up from his PSP. “You say that every year.”
“Actually, I think,-” Kuroo holds up a finger, “-I’m feeling it right now.”
He lets loose a noise almost as hideous as his hyena laugh, and from the corner of his eye Kenma can see him flailing about.
“Stop that,” Kenma says and kicks his friend off the bed, “Momma’ll get mad.”
Kuroo grabs onto Kenma’s ankle as he goes down and hits the floor with a loud Ack!, frowning when the other doesn’t come along for the ride. The drop was short enough that he never moved. So Kuroo thinks, then, along with a smirk, takes ahold of Kenma’s other ankle and pulls him down.
Kenma punches Kuroo’s shoulder when he recovers from the fall. He takes his PSP, held close in an iron grip during his fall, and continues on with his game.
“Offended.” Kuroo says, rubbing his arm. “I can’t believe you would do such a thing.”
Kenma scoffs again, but this time rests his head on the other’s shoulder. “Stop actin’ like I hit hard.”
“You’ve shattered my heart in pieces.” Kuroo says, sporting an expression like he’s told the greatest joke. He wraps an arm around Kenma and pulls him closer.
“Kuro, I barely tapped you.”
“In pieces, I say! Pieces!”
Later they fall into a silence, content to listen to the other breathing.
✣•✣•✣•✣•✣•✣
Atsuko enters her son’s room holding a tray with two cups of hot chocolate and various pastries. She opens her mouth to announce her presence when she sees Tetsurou and Kenma sound asleep. They are wrapped tightly around each other as if afraid they will lose a companion their grasps loosen.
She leaves the tray on the nightstand alongside a note telling the boys to heat up the drinks if they get cold. She leaves the room, stopping on her way out to smile at the boys, and heads off for her own room.
Her son has found someone to keep in his life, and that makes her happy at every second of the day.