Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Kozume Kenma has never been very impulsive. If anything, he liked to stay in the background, overly concerned with others’ opinions about what he did and didn’t do enough, typically mistaken for one of those soulless people that grunted incoherently to remind others that they were still alive. He was well-known for wandering aimlessly among crowds and occasionally hanging out with those who were more than eager to get into all sorts of trouble. A stuck-up who didn't know how to have fun.

It was true that Kenma wasn’t a very showy guy, opting to be left alone over being forced to hang out with annoying, noisy people and favoring video games to wild Friday nights. It was like some sort of unspoken agreement to go out and get wasted, laid or whatever it was that they did. This concept in particular eluded Kenma completely and no amount of whining or begging ever forced him to change his mind.

"Bought a new video game," he'd say as an excuse to the pleading looks of Yamamoto and Lev.

"Can’t," he'd tell Morisuke, who'd then wave a bottle of gin in front of his face as if expecting to lure him out like that, which was close to impossible. Uni life didn’t get to the usually motherly and calm boy’s head all that much - Kenma'd rather not think about the others - but Fridays were sacred, study worm or not.

Except in Kenma's case, of course.

"Shouhei is helping me study for the finals."

"Oh come on," the short man would usually roll his eyes at him, and when of all the people Yaku, sweet and somewhat innocent Yaku, who cared about his studies more than the rest of their friends combined and worried about his health and lifestyle, rolled his eyes at you for being a stuck up, it was a sign that you were a Level A hermit. "Nothing bad's gonna happen if you sacrifice a few hours to relax. You’re smart, Kenma. There’s no way that you’re going to fail midterms just because you get out of the dorms for like one night when there're, what now, three weeks left to study our asses off?"

"Those weeks will fly by in a second," Kenma would groan and fake soul-draining exhaustion. "I can’t afford to get my grades any lower than they already are. My free education depends on those, remember?"

That one would work like a miracle with Yaku, only because he cared for Kenma much like an older brother would. After all, rest was vital to the overworked blond disaster. Yaku was the only one who ever left him alone without voicing out a bunch of complaints. Most of the time, anyways.

Yamamoto and Lev, though, were a whole different story altogether.

“Kenma-s-”

“No.”

“Ken-”

“Goodbye.”

“Kenma-saaaan.” Lev was busy acting like a child again, clinging to the shorter one’s leg. Judging by this behavior, he was already a little intoxicated. Two/three beers most likely. He only ever acted like this whenever that particular beverage was involved. Kenma preferred Lev drinking beer over anything else, though, because other kinds of alcohol made him even more annoying, and that was something he'd never expected to say. “Don’t be like that, l-let’s go out and party!”

“Get off!” Kenma felt the beginnings of frustration building up in the backs of his temples. Screw these god damned Fridays. He pawed at the tall Russian’s bony fingers clasped tightly around his left calf but to no avail. The grip didn’t loosen. “If you want to get wasted, then go on ahead and be my guest; but leave me out of this. Now go… make yourself useful for once or something.” Kenma shook the incapacitated leg for good measure, but it only made everything worse. Lev rolled off his bed with a dull thud, laid down on the floor and started tugging at the immobile limb, writhing like a child throwing a temper tantrum.

“Kenma-san, pleaaaaase.”

“Quit whining and let go. Don’t be a child, I won’t set for you anymore! No more volleyball! Are you listening? Hey!”

“Seriously, dude, grow up! Lev. Lev, this isn’t helping.” Yamamoto, who stood uncharacteristically quiet throughout the whole ordeal, toed the exchange student's wiry back. “Well, he’s a goner.” A mean kick to the thigh. “HEEEEY, ARE YOU LISTENING?”

“OW! What was that for!?” Lev squealed like a piglet, rubbing at the injured limb more heatedly than necessary. The supposedly-enraged glower was less edgy than intended thanks to the child-like pout.

“Quit actin’ like a kid, you’re makin’ our situation worse.”

“Couldn’t you, I dunno, ask like a normal person?!”

“You fuckin’-”

“Alright, you can stop now. Please... Please?” Kenma tried to stop the bantering duo, he really did, but alas, he wasn’t even heard over their voices getting louder and louder with every juvenile exchange. Oh god, please, someone notice it, please. He couldn’t take another minute of this. Exasperated, the blond rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out an annoyed sigh as the two started wrestling on the ground. “Can you two shut the hell up, you’re going to piss off-”

Suddenly, the door swung open only to reveal Inuoka, Kenma's roommate for the semester, with a huge smile plastered on his face. “Oh hey there, Kenma! Are you guys having fun? I could hear you all the way down the hall,” the man chirped, shrugging off his jacket and noisily slamming the paper-thin door behind him. Typical.

Damn it, though, even more noise. Didn’t he tell the guy to not do that over and over again!?

“Does this look like ‘fun’ to you?” Kenma never shouted, so he wasn’t sure whether Inuoka had even heard him properly. Before he could answer the question, though, Kenma rather rudely cut him off. “You know what, never mind. Help me separate these two and possibly kick them out before trouble starts.”

“Aw, but why?” Inuoka whined, genuinely upset.

“Don’t even think about joining them. Or encouraging them. Just don’t.”

For a second, Inuoka continued looking at him like some kicked puppy dog that was also just denied its walk in the park. Only a second, though. “Aye, sir!” he perked up - as he always would because the innermost workings of his minds were still an uncharted territory from Kenma's perspective - and rolled up the sleeves of his dark red hoodie, right as their weekly horror show began.

“What's up with this racket?!” The two habitants of Room 206 and their duo of problematic guests froze in place and turned to stare at the closed door. However, peace didn't last for too long - the door was forced open in exactly four seconds, just like Kenma had predicted, revealing a very grouchy and tousled Akaashi Keiji. Dark eyes completed with black bags beneath them scanned the room for a few tense moments and then promptly landed on Lev. The inquisitor-like stare changed into a hateful squinting gaze. “You again.”

“H-Hi?” the Russian forced a feeble smile and let go of Kenma’s leg which had somehow managed to stay intact throughout the whole ordeal, “You look… nice.” he forced out, trying to sugarcoat his way to safety. Wherever that even was when Akaashi Keiji was involved.

“Do you need to see yourself out or do you want me to show you the way?” The aforementioned man looked absolutely terrifying even in his old ratty jeans and an over-sized T-shirt with coffee stains on it.

“N-Nah, I’ll-” Lev struggled to get off Yamamoto’s heel pressed into his abdomen. “Don’t tell Kuroo,” he beg-whined, voice laced with desperation.

“Get the hell out. Preferably right now. You too.” The older boy’s fine eyebrow twitched as he pointed Yamamoto's way. “Every goddamn Friday. Don’t you have anything better to do than to terrorize others?” to illustrate the point, he turned towards Kenma, rigidly nodding in greeting.

“We weren’t-”

“Uh-huh, yes, I’ve heard it all before, now leave.”

“It’s okay, Akaashi. I’ll see them out.” Kenma sighed in defeat and tiredly rose up to his feet, grabbing his favorite jacket draped over the back of the swiveling chair. His sudden bout of eagerness to evacuate from the scene of the crime earned Kenma a raised eyebrow from his weekly Friday night savior. They weren’t exactly friends or even acquaintances - it was purely Akaashi’s inability to tolerate Lev’s obnoxious drunken voice that brought them together. Or so he'd say whenever he kicked the tall exchange student out. Kenma never understood how the calm and mostly nice boy managed to hang out with someone of Lev’s caliber - then again, he hung out with Lev, too. Hypocrite.

“Are you sure about that?” Akaashi worried in that private way of his.

“Yes... it’s not a problem. They won’t bother you for the rest of the night. “ With a single disapproving glare in the offenders' direction and a dignified huff, the dark-haired man stormed out as Kenma turned towards Inuoka who viewed this whole incident as another fun time that he'd devastatingly missed out on. “I bought pretzels. In case you’re staying tonight, you can have them.”

“Whoa, really!? Thanks, man!” Inuoka beamed and then flopped on his bed, phone already in hand. “But I’m still not sure if I'm gonna stick around. I’ll find out in a few.”

“Doesn’t matter then. Help yourself, I won’t be able to eat everything by myself.” Ah, another night spent miserably alone. Why was he even surprised anymore? At this point of the semester?

“Yosh. You don’t eat enough, anyways. You really ought to! It’s good for your health - you wouldn't get sick that often.”

“Sometimes I wonder who worries about us the most. Is it Kenma-san, you, or Yaku-san?” Lev mused out loud and then grinned when the blond sent him a disapproving look. It wasn’t his job to be the mom of the pack.

Yamamoto perked up at that, face scrunched up as though he just saw something incredibly disturbing. “Ew, man. If it’s Yaku for ya, then isn’t it like banging your own mother?”

“Whaaat, no way. I’m just comparing? I mean Yaku-san takes care of us, but Kenma nags the most, huh… I guess it’s Kenma-san, then!”

“You know what, feel free to kill each other again. But only after we're out of here.” Extremely annoyed, Kenma pulled them into the deadly quiet and plain hallway. Most of the people were either absent or studying. “…And I’m not a mom,” he added as an afterthought, making his way to the stairs.

“Yeah, can’t compare to the real moms out there.”

“Real moms?” Kenma tried to sound bored but he suddenly felt curious. As much as he tried to hide it, Yamamoto took notice.

“Yeah, y'know like Sugawara! Now that guy is soccer mom material. I mean this one time when Ryuu got too drunk-”

“Which was entirely your fault again, haha,” Lev hummed and traced the ledge. There was a certain unsteadiness in his step.

“Shut your trap for a sec. Anyways, so like, we got super wasted at some shady bar in Miyagi, right, and he punched the bartender. We weren’t allowed inside that bar again until Suga forced him to apologize! Man, now that was a spectacle to behold! He even went all ‘ahaha, I’m so sorry, he’s such an idiot! Please forgive him,’” Yamamoto faked a falsetto and Lev burst into a fit of giggles at the memory.

“He even grabbed him by the ear and forced him to bow like twenty times.”

“I don’t get it. Why didn’t you just go to another bar then?”

“Coz that was the only one where they sold quality beer and it was the closest to their neighborhood. They don’t have many awesome bars there. Or clubs. Or pretty much anything in general. Maybe like one cow for every village. Life must’ve been pretty damn boring at the countryside, huh.”

“Yup. That’s why today we're going to drink with the gang! We found a pretty cool place too. Cheap af,” Lev chirped and followed it up with some exaggerated hand motions. “Aaah, I can’t wait to outdrink you and Tanaka!”

“Whatwasthat! Here I am channeling and charging my damn chakras, gathering my strength to win against Ryuu, and you wanna butt in between us, kid? Bring it on! I will destroy ya both!” Yamamoto roared, all self-confidence and power.

“We’ll see about that!”

“You get tipsy after a can, you seriously expect me to believe that you can outdrink me? Come back a hundred years later to challenge the Awesome me who will kick your ass in a drinking contest until the day you die!”

Isn’t that self-contradictory...? I guess that explains Yamamoto’s quietness earlier. And wait, with them? Does that mean Shouyou is going to be there?

Ah, who cares? He got to see Shouyou all the time now, one night of absence wouldn't hurt anyone. They exited the dorm's premises and the moment they came to a stop in front of the gates Kenma refused to budge an inch whereas the duo went on ahead, chattering aimlessly and only turning on their brakes when they were at least ten meters ahead, suddenly noticing that something was off. Or rather, someone was missing.

Yamamoto turned back at the speed of light. Damn it, Kenma didn’t manage to dive into the bushes for cover in time. “Wha—aren’t you coming with us?”

“I said ‘I will see you out’ not ‘I’m going with you two’.”

“But you’re already dressed, so why not?” Lev whined.

“No wallet,” Kenma replied, deadpan.

“We can pay for you.”

“Yeah, no. Be on your way now. Have a nice evening,” Kenma said in what he'd hoped to be a dismissing tone and then turned on his heel, but Yamamoto jogged up to him far too fast to snag his elbow. “I said I’m not going,” he repeated himself despite the steel-like pressure threatening to grind his bones to dust. They were threading on thin ice now.

“Alright, then. I get it - you don’t wanna help me outdrink every single person in the room,” Yamamoto began, ignoring the poisonous glare directed his way.

“And possibly die from alcohol poisoning?”

“And that’s fine, okay? But! There’s a party tomorrow, not exactly a party per say-”

“A rave!” Lev crossed the short distance in a few big steps and sidled up to Kenma, craning his swan neck to look down on him even more. God damned tall people.

“So how about it?” Yamamoto excitedly held his breath as though he was expecting something. Ha. 

The answer was the usual and automatic. “No.”

“It’s once in a year, Kenma! You haven’t been to any parties and this is your first year of uni and it's ending. This isn’t healthy for ya, you need to adapt, get out more, pick up chicks.”

This wasn’t good - Kenma knew what was coming. He’d been dealing with Yamamoto for years now and the pattern was always the same. He should’ve let Akaashi take care of them. The impassive man never took shit from these two or anyone else for that matter. It’s what gave him the strength required to deal with obnoxious people like Bokuto Koutarou and Kuroo Tetsurou.

“Get wasted!” Lev, who’s never been much of a mood reader, poured more oil into the igniting flames. How… unhelpful.

“Get laid, is what I’m saying.”

And there it was.

“I don’t think my personal life is of your concern.”

“It so is of my concern!” Yamamoto grabbed the area over his heart as though offended, mouth forming a perfect ‘o’. “It’s my job to get you laid. I failed in high school, so now we need to make up for the lost time! You won’t be young forever and I don’t want you turning into some fucked up closet pedo.”

While Kenma processed what was being told to him, cautiously looking around to make sure that no one was there to hear this rather degrading monologue, Yamamoto used the moment of stillness to sling an arm around the dainty boy’s shoulders, letting the clogging scent of beer fill his nostrils. Gross.

“What? No.”

Honestly, just because you weren’t into that sort of thing - by pure choice, mind you - didn’t mean shit in the long run. He was perfectly content with not getting ‘laid’. Not much had changed since high school. It was still school in Kenma’s eyes and not the beautiful blooming of his youth or whatever the hell others liked to view it as. If he didn’t give into Yamamoto’s provocations back then, why should he do so now?

“You’re the only one in our group who hasn’t done the dirty. Enough of jackin’ off to anime posters in that sad dorm room, Yamamoto-senpai is here to help you find someone hot and worthy. Mostly hot for now,” he slowly fixed himself after giving Kenma an appraising once-over, mentally criticizing the baggy tee and even baggier sweats.

That was the short Kenma's call to stop his drunken friend who was, at this point, nothing more than an obnoxious existence grating against his nerves in all the wrong ways.

“Okay, first of all, you’re already drunk.”

Unfocused eyes blinked at him. Just when did their little ‘evening’ start? “Nahhh.” Yamamoto snorted as though the mere idea seemed ridiculous.

“’Nah?’ Sure, why not, and you think Lev is perfectly sober here, too? …That’s what I thought. Second of all, those aren’t anime posters, it’s-” He felt the need to defend his interests whenever they were brought up, usually meant to tease or offend him. Perhaps that was the reason why he didn’t feel like being an adult with a drinking problem. He kind of felt like a child still, the bigger part of him anyways - a kid who still squealed inwardly whenever a good video game came out. Not that he would ever admit to that.

“It’s all nerd stuff, jeez, don’t get offended now! S’all the same to me. What I really do care about is you getting out more. So tomorrow evening you’ll dress in something nice and expensive - enough of over-sized tracksuits and sweaters, bro - get some cheap glow sticks and go to the rave like a good boy, alright?”

“Kuroo’s been working his ass off to get this thing going! Not attending is like… I can’t come up with anything right now, but when I do, I’ll make sure to tell you!” Lev gave up on thinking as he should've a long time ago and then smiled instead.

Kenma probably should have said ‘no’ to that too because these types of things usually ended in storms of text messages that varied from really bad jokes to angst and then to things like ‘but did you ever think what life would be like if the sky was purple and not blue? imagine’. Sleeping with your phone on silent wasn’t very good, not when you had an overly-worried borderline spaz mom to deal with and alarms to hear every morning. Not to mention deleting three-hundred messages and fifty-seven missed calls wasn’t a fun experience, nearly not as much as people with a lot of friends and wonderful social lives made it out to be and definitely not when they all were from the same person.

But wait.

Kuroo did...?

Suddenly, Kenma felt very hot and very cold all at once and it had absolutely nothing to do with the chilly wind ruffling the strands of his carelessly dyed hair, blowing them straight into his mouth, severely ruining the dramatic moment. That guy. Of course. Kuroo Tetsurou with his stupid ruffled perfect hair which never failed to remind Kenma of a rooster, charming asshole personality and nasty lecherous grins. He was always around whenever huge parties were involved, he should've seen it coming. And a rave? Psssh. Couldn’t he come up with something a little less… tasteless? Lev and Yamamoto were still talking but Kenma didn’t really listen. It was bound to be something weird and pointless once again.

“It’s like saying ‘I’m a soon-to-be full-fledged online creep with no social life or awesome friends, don’t approach me’,” Yamamoto offered as Lev nodded enthusiastically, only for the sake of nodding. “Even Akaashi is going.”

“That’s because Bokuto kept on whining for two weeks straight. I heard that he stood below Akaashi's windows at 4 am until the guard called the security on him and had him kicked out.”

He was incredibly loud and persistent about it too, is what Kenma wanted to say, but held his tongue. The view of the obnoxious man being dragged away by two burly men was quite satisfying and Akaashi aiming a pencil at his face completed the whole image. Ah yes, what a terrifying night that was for Akaashi's reputation. Everyone talked about it for three days straight, whispered about it among themselves and behind the boy’s back in their faculty's hallways, giggled and teased. The brunet avoided eye contact with pretty much everyone whereas Bokuto was more-than-willing to brag about it to those who did and did not want to listen, causing even more embarrassment for Akaashi.

“I apologize, but I really don’t care about who is and who isn’t going. And if the whole thing is thanks to Kuroo and Bokuto, my answer evolves from ‘no’ to ‘hell no’.” Kenma stated firmly and then shook his friend’s arm off.

“Don’t you care ‘bout what others will say?”

Low blow, even for a guy like Yamamoto.

“If you think that’s gonna make me change my mind, you’re wrong. Now don’t you have to be somewhere? Some fights to start, some doormats to set on fire?” Kenma rolled his eyes and waved a hand in the direction of the gates.

“Man, you’re such a stick in the mud, it’s not even cute anymore,” Yamamoto huffed, just a little angry. “Run along, little nerd. You got a date with your right hand and no soft, mouth-watering mounds to touch. Pretzels await.”

“And not alcohol poisoning or waking up in Musashimurayama because it sounded hilarious to my intoxicated mind, butt-naked in a parking lot, covered in glitter and grape juice. What a loss, indeed. I’m going back to my boring online pedo life or whatever, see you on Monday.”

And with that last sarcastic statement, he was gone. For real this time. He even picked up the pace in case he was stopped again.

Kenma made it his goal to ignore Yamamoto for five days.

“I can’t believe you let him go just like that!” Lev smiled drunkenly and stared off into the distance.

Yamamoto pursed his lips, offended. “Aw hell no. This kid doesn’t wanna go have fun with us - fine by me. But if he thinks that he can say no forever, he has another thing coming.”

“You don’t mean?” Lev gasped in an overly-dramatic fashion as he turned towards the mohawk-bearing man, the most scandalized look that he could muster distorting his face.

“Oh, but I do. We’re using Plan B. He needs to attend tomorrow and I’ll make sure he does even if it kills me!” Yamamoto roared and pressed one fist against his heart.

Lev, not touched by it even the slightest bit, rubbed his palms. It was getting way too cold and standing around wasn’t helping. “If you don’t die after I outdrink you tonight.”

Yamamoto gaped, the gears inside his head turning slower than usual with a haze of alcohol covering it. He couldn’t come up with a good impromptu response so instead he shut his mouth and pointed the tall one’s way. “You are not helpful. Ever. And you’re not doing that, capische?”

“Want me to go easy?”

“Don’t make me hurt ya, punk.”

There were absolutely no reasons for Kenma to go to university parties, none that he knew of anyways. For one, everyone that he considered going with had a drinking problem, especially whenever these things were involved. Which meant that they usually left him behind and scattered to all four directions of the world to do dumb stuff together like jump into pools from two-story buildings or set doormats on fire. Aimlessly loitering around among people who either hit on you or treated you like a fifth wall wasn’t very high up Kenma’s list of ‘Things that are fun and I don’t mind doing’. Maybe if he had a drinking problem as well, he'd join in on the said "fun" every once in a while, but that was only a big maybe. Plus, Kenma always wanted to spare himself the embarrassment that could be seen on social networks in the form of photos two days later, at most. He liked remembering what he did, what he ate and drank, and where he went, thank you very much. So he had all the reasons to stay away from these get-togethers, yeah? That made perfect sense.

Maybe he really was being a huge stick in the mud, he thought bitterly once he came back inside, Inuoka nowhere to be seen. A messily scribbled note placed next to the half-empty bowl of pretzels reading ‘sorry I can't keep you company, don’t be sad :(((‘ told him more than enough. Perhaps it really was in his best interest to just loosen up and get over his fears in order to have a little fun with his friends. Life was short. He needed to do something impressive at least once.

Then why wasn’t he able to text Lev or Yamamoto to come back to pick him up?

He stared at the screen of the phone, scrolling through his pathetically small list of contacts, thumb hovering over the names. In the end, Kenma chickened out and threw the device away, fishing out his gaming consoles from underneath his bed instead.

If he was going to be a stick in the mud, better start while the night was still young.

Two hours later, he still felt like shit, Yamamoto’s words gnawing at him. This was dumb. Why the hell would some drunken dude’s words have any effect on him?

Or was it something else entirely?

Kuroo’s been working hard at it, huh.

Expected. As dumb as he looked, under that flawless rooster mane lied a smart brain and a physically capable body. It made the ladies who knew nothing about this guy swoon, but it was all a cheap trick to get into their pants, skirts, etc. The real him, the real Kuroo, even if Kenma did not know him as well as Haiba, Yamamoto, Yaku, Inuoka and even Akaashi, was - how should he put this - a dork. A loser, even.

It was endearing in some fucked up way and that was just plain stupid. Kenma was dumb for even thinking of Kuroo Tetsurou as such.

The same guy who'd flirted with him on every occasion only to be shot down because Kenma wasn't interested in that. The same guy with whom he'd shared only one class, a 8:30 am class on Thursdays when Kenma was at his actual worst - he’s never been an early riser and who the hell even cared about Econ this early in the morning - the same guy who leered at him whenever Kenma looked his way, who tried to impress the blond while his equally-stupid, unofficial best friend laughed behind his back. The same dude who was merely in it for the sex.

Yes, you heard that right. Because if there was one thing that Kuroo was infamous for, it was the sheer amount of flings and one night stands that he had. Not nearly enough of an impressive amount like some... other "chosen" people on their campus, but if Kenma had to pick, Kuroo would most likely take the third place. Which was like the first place from the other end. It wasn’t that Kuroo even tried to hide it in any way, he seemed quite proud of it too, and Kenma was just another guy for him to lure in with those lustful, lidded eyes and stupid smirks.

He wasn’t even that hot!

Maybe. Not really.

Okay, true facts here, he was hot. To Kenma, at least - not that he would ever admit that. His type, even. Not that he had one, because he totally didn’t.

To be completely honest, if Kuroo wasn’t competing and going for the gold in the uni Olympics called ‘Had The Most Sex In The Shortest Period Of Time’, then maybe he'd probably say ‘yes’ to his advances. He’d even agree to have coffee or tea – Kuroo liked coffee, whereas Kenma was never into caffeinated beverages unless they came in the form of sweet energy drinks - with him at the café located at the corner of the street. Or, you know, actually sit next to Kuroo during lectures, thighs pressed together, and share notes. Or even join Kuroo and his friends without the fear of being stared at with pitying eyes because he was just another boy toy and they all knew what followed next.

Kenma wasn’t too sure what was it that people who were flirting did, but he was also convinced that he wouldn’t mind doing it anyways.

But that would only happen if Kuroo wasn’t everyone’s body pillow. Hopefully a not-infected one.

So many possibilities but no actual unfolding scenarios.

It was a bit strange, getting entranced by a person Kenma didn’t even know, purely because of the second-hand stories of his personality, his good sides and bad ones, the various situations that he'd gotten himself into. Whenever they'd speak of Kuroo without mentioning his nightly escapades, he'd seem perfect to Kenma’s ears.

It's exactly how Kenma found out that Kuroo liked helping people and enjoyed monitoring their progress. That Kuroo was very kind to his friends, and even though he was in possession of a bad attitude which sometimes that made you question whether he truly liked you, when the time was right, he was a firm shoulder to lean on during the bad days. That he liked devoting himself to helping people out of messes. That Kuroo understood others more than he'd let on, predicted their moves better than a chess game master, and that that was the most significant quality which happened to draw in passionate fans - in their eyes, not many people were this capable.

Kenma also found out that Kuroo is an early riser, that he liked to run and he wasn't the type to stay in one place - he always had to be in motion; the exact opposite of Kenma. Kuroo was smart and played sports - usually volleyball, and that knowledge alone made Kenma swoon a little. Their mutual acquaintances assured Kenma that Kuroo made the best omelets out there, took care of hangovers like a pro, and drank unhealthy amounts of coffee to stay awake during school since he barely slept during nights. When he did crash, it was nearly impossible to wake him up - he could sleep on the sidewalk if he really wanted to, undisturbed by any force out there.

Kuroo enjoyed shitty American pop music, Mondays were his sacred days, and he always slept with at least three blankets on no matter what season.

Those little human things made Kenma’s heart cough and sneeze inside his chest, so when he finally caught a glimpse of the real deal Kuroo outside the university's buildings, outside of campus, he was severely disappointed, his overly-positive made-up mental image quickly ruined by the rancid sexual vibes that rolled off the man in suffocating waves, successfully captivating everyone within two-hundred meter radius - much like sweet scent attracted flies and Kenma’s favorite shirt attracted stains. Kuroo spent that night running around like an unrestrained sexy menace, free of judgment - and in case he received any, he easily fought the offenders away with his own bare hands, because while he was cocky enough to start fights, he was also strong enough to finish them.

When he saw Kuroo at the welcome party for the very first time - Kenma’s first and last party with more than ten people involved - the man was drunkenly grinding up against at least four different people in the span of two hours. That night, Kenma had seen him for like five minutes combined, far too many people hindering his sight. He'd also found out - from different, more reliable sources - that Kuroo was a well-known party animal who usually wasted booze on the dancefloor, downed more shots than it was humanly possible, and got higher than the ceiling. All of these beautiful qualities were wrapped up in a glistening bow of the stupid shit that he did.

After that, Kenma had made it a personal goal to never meet him at these parties again. And now Yamamoto was inviting him - forcing him - to go to a rave organized by the aforementioned man in hopes that it'd make the blond feel at ease. Kuroo was bound to be the center of everyone’s attention that night, he and his equally infamous pals who'd helped him make it happen, bodies painted in neon colours shining underneath fluorescent strobe lights, dancing in a distracting manner and doing god knows what.

So even if there was a huge part of Kenma's existence - that had it pretty bad for the black-haired man - that desperately didn’t want to attend in order to avoid all and any possible run-ins with Kuroo, another part of his being, the less cautious and mindful one, wanted to go.

If anything, a rave sounded pretty interesting, even if it was a little old-fashioned in Kenma’s eyes. Something unusual, thrilling even. The curiosity of seeing his body paint shining in the backlight was the only thing that made him seriously consider it.

That, and the fact that Shouyou was going. Shouyou always wanted them to go places together and Kenma could never say no. He doubted that many people could.

At exactly 3 am, his phone buzzed with a new message. He ignored it at first - eyes and half of his attention focused on a boring RPG - certain that it was the beginning of Lev’s infinite meaningless texts, but when another buzz didn’t come up after five minutes, Kenma was certain that it wasn’t the tall man. He paused the game, fished the last two pretzels out of the plastic bowl placed beside his head and unlocked the screen of his phone.

“1 new message from Hinata Shouyou,” he read out loud for no reason whatsoever. “I wonder what he wants this late…? Were his friends detained again?”

Wouldn’t be the first time, really. Probably the third or fourth - one time because of soft drugs in Nishinoya’s pockets, twice because of a fight, and once for destroying private property with a dash of public indecency (the Musashimurayama incident). For someone from the countryside, they sure lived… in a rather wild way. His Shouyou was never willingly involved in any of those, though. Thank god for that, Kenma thought, but then he opened up the text that read:

Sent 02:58 am
From: Hinata Shouyou
To: Me

knma y wh r u not here ?? ???? DD:

And then quickly changed his mind.

He’s drunk. Great.

Even his best friend, who didn’t seem to be the type to do anything bad, was out on a Friday night. Was Kenma truly the only hermit out there? Even Akaashi, who usually babysat the entire floor, quietly left at 1:30 am.

Sent 03:03 am
From: Me
To: Hinata Shouyou

Because I didn’t feel like it, if that’s what you’re asking.

Sent 03:04 am
From: Hinata Shouyou
To: Me

ag yiure no fun :((( r u goin to save tomorr

It took Kenma a quite few minutes to decipher the message. Drunken texting was the single most pointless thing in the universe, that’s why he never bothered going through Lev’s pile of ‘imagine how is touch sky’ bullshit.

Sent 03:08 am
From: Me
To: Hinata Shouyou

I don’t plan to. I don’t see the point? Besides I have no one to go with.

Sent 03:08 am
From: Hinata Shouyou
To: Me

i am!!! we all r gng! !! i wannsee you! nd isn’t kuro going, that mean u should go too.

Sent 03:11 am
From: Me
To: Hinata Shouyou

Shouyou, he goes to ALL of the parties. If they have booze and techno music, he gets there faster than you can say ‘volleyball’.

Sent 03:11 am
From: Hinata Shouyou
To: Me

haha lol y ould you even say volleyball, r u tryng to summon the volley gods witht me
--
we have asahi-san for that he’s like a jesus
--
i wonder if kurro I s like the satam
--
so disturbing
--
bt it kinda makes sense
--
tanak senpai an noyasan are summoning the jesus
--
asahi-san is mad, he poured wter on noyasan. he says he’s been blessed b hesus n u need to do it too. tanaka snpie say that u need to say volleyball theree times……

Kenma pretended that he wasn't laughing at these messages. Just imagining them engaging in these dumb rituals made him shake with suppressed laughter.

Sent 03:15 am
From: Me
To: Hinata Shouyou

That’s amazing, Shouyou, but don’t you think you should stop drinking now? I’m starting to worry.

The orange-haired boy then reassured him that he was perfectly fine, and so, Kenma got another ten messages of Hinata liveblogging what seemed to be a drinking game - King’s game. At that very moment, Kenma wanted nothing more than to actually be there with Lev and Yamamoto, and most importantly, Shouyou himself, just to witness "Suga-san and Daichi-san are going at it on the dancefloor super hard, and by that I mean a tango. Everyone’s impressed because they didn’t know Suga-san is /that/ flexible but also grossed out because it’s sorta like walking in on your parents banging."

Sent 03:22 am
From: Hinata Shouyou
To: Me

so where wre we? oh ye, u need to go tomorrow. plse do ti for me? u need to get over ur kuro thing. have fun! im sober engh to know what im sayin!!!

--
kenma, I wll evn sobr up for you in time, pls fo.

--
write me back dyde. i will be very upset if u don come. FUCK kuroo ok, that guy goent matter.

Shouyou was right, as drunk as he was. Why did it matter, anyways? Kenma knew far too well that even if he did go to that party, to Kuroo he'd be just another wall, another face that he may vaguely remember hitting on. He’d be all over the place with his shirt gone and back painted in bright colours, showering people with the cheapest champagne imaginable and then ‘helping’ them dry their clothes in the bathroom where moans were louder than the dull pulsing of the bass. But fuck that guy. Who even cares about that guy.

He’d have Shouyou by his side and Kenma knew that he wouldn’t be ditched for a short skirt or a deep v-cut. Besides, he didn’t want to upset the orange-haired boy. His phone buzzed yet again.

Sent 03:24 am
From: Hinata Shouyou
To: Me

What he’s trying to say is that he’ll be more than happy if you come to get wasted together. Which you shouldn’t do because this guy can’t even stand up straight in his current state.

Huh, that was most definitely not Shouyou. Obviously. Well, whatever, at least he had someone sober to take care of him.

Bzzz.

Sent 03:24 am
From: Hinata Shouyou
To: Me

sry bout that, tobes took my phone but he got a point
--
wow he can wrte tho he’s frunk is he a witch. i have to ask.
--
tobes is mad now, we r goin home. so pls tell me if u r going before my phon e is taken

Kenma knew that he was inevitably going to regret this, but there were more gains than losses. Lev and Yamamoto would be ecstatic, too.

He needed to get some sleep right now if he wanted to survive tomorrow.

Sent 03:25 am
From: Me
To: Hinata Shouyou

Fine. I’ll go to that rave thing, but you better keep your end of the bargain and get there too. I will hold you to that.

And then, as an afterthought, he typed out one last message before passing out.

--
By the way… Who is ‘Tobes’?

Needless to say, when Kenma woke up at 2 pm of the following morning (for him anyways), Inuoka was already there with a laptop open on his lap, headphones on. Some trashy music was blasting at max volume as he hummed along to the tune, fingers flying over the keyboard to type out that SOC psychology 101 paper.

Inuoka didn’t pay much attention to Kenma who felt as though he hadn’t slept for eons, only offering a tired ‘good afternoon’ and proceeding with his work. Kenma was glad that as ditzy as Inuoka was, the guy still managed to be incredibly observant and learn fast. He never bothered Kenma until he fully woke up, aware that his roommate wasn’t much of a conversationalist until a good forty minutes later.

It was a typical Saturday afternoon or so it seemed to Kenma until he stepped out of the shower and remembered just what kind of Saturday it was.

The day when Kenma Kozume would finally leave his hermit cave for the first time in a year in order to step out into the sun and mingle with the cool kids.

Holy shit. Was he high when he agreed to it or what?

Thirty minutes filled with incomprehensible regret and utter despair later, he felt that it was finally the right moment to bring this news to Inuoka. At first, the taller man wrote it off as a lame attempt at a joke, even asked him if it was April 1st, but when Kenma sullenly pointed at the calendar, the guy had promptly freaked out and sped out of their shared room faster than Sonic the Hedgehog, announce-yelling that something incredible has just happened. At the top of his lungs. In no more than the span of ten minutes, Kenma’s small group of friends had gathered inside, falling into a pile on Kenma's bed and leaving him to sit on the chair.

Wonderful people. Lev had the nerve to growl at him when he tried to settle down between Yaku and Fukunaga. It earned him a harsh slap against the thigh from the former man, but Lev didn’t budge an inch, an arm draped over his bloodshot eyes and obviously hungover.

Inuoka pretty much vibrated in his seat. “It’s because of Shouyou, right? Right? He’s coming? I want to go too, then!”

“Who else could get him out into the real world other than Shorty?” Lev mumbled groggily and shifted on the Kenma's unmade bed, feet dangling over the edge. “He kept on bothering everyone after Kenma agreed to it, so that Kageyama kid took him home.”

“Right, so that’s who Tobes is…” Kenma trailed off, but nobody heard him, too ensnared in a heated conversation.

“This is such a great day, I never thought something like this could happen. Yaku, you need to take pics.”

“I’m so proud, it’s like watching your little brother grow up!”

“I knew that he would listen if that Shorty Hinata was involved!”

“Hold on, you are absolutely not taking any photos,” Kenma hissed like out an enraged feline and hid his face inside the sweater, trying to ruin Yaku’s chances of snapping a good quality shot. Yaku frowned and ordered in his strict mom voice for Kenma to pull down the collar from his face. At first, he refused, but then Morisuke threatened him, so he was forced to oblige.

Inuoka’s arm was tight around the Kenma’s stiff shoulders in record time, fingers forming a peace sign. “Aw come on, Kenma, let’s take some pics. Pretty pleaseee?”

“I don’t want to.”

In the end, they took the damned pics.

It was the only way to force everyone out and Inuoka had stubbornly refused to aid Kenma in his task until he got a decent shot with him. That took them at least ten minutes because Kenma refused to look directly at the camera or let his face be seen clearly.

“You’re the only person with whom I got none!” the brown-haired boy huffed and made Kenma’s bed for him once everyone was out. “Photos make you remember things! I need to remember you when I’m old and wrinkly and incapable of remembering the names of my great-grandchildren. I’ll show them these pics and then I’ll say; ‘and here’s Kenma, the guy who never learned how to cook.’”

“I have you for that.”

“Ahahaha, you’re lucky that I’m kind. It’s not a problem for me! But we might not be roommates after the school year ends, so you ought to learn it.”

“Maybe some other time,” Kenma growled, brushing his ruffled hair. When would they finally stop placing their hands on top of his head during group shots, it was getting seriously annoying and he was no longer fifteen.

“I can always teach you. I’m not that good at explaining things-”

“…Oh really, you don’t say.”

“I changed my mind.” Inuoka stuck out his tongue and pulled a face. The pout on his lips quickly faded as per usual and he grabbed his laptop. “The leftovers are at the lounge's minifridge, labeled as always, so don’t worry. I really need to get going now.”

“…A date?” Kenma wondered mindlessly, falling onto his bed and stretching lazily. He felt like taking a three-hour long nap.

“Yep.” His roommate looked like an excited puppy when he searched for his keys that were, as usual, buried under the pile of Kenma’s uni papers and books stacked on the table. “Hopefully, I’ll see you and Shouyou at the rave tonight. I’m not one-hundred percent sure I’ll be there. One thing might lead to another, and…” he trailed off, the tips of his ears turning bright red,” uhm... I-I have to go now, bye!” Inuoka said his goodbyes in one wheezy breath and practically fell out through the door, the dark blush now covering the back of his neck.

Innocent and pure as always. Kenma, however, was pretty certain that he will not be seeing Inuoka for the rest of the night.

Less people to worry about, he thought sleepily and suppressed a yawn. I really do sound like a worried mom right now. I should worry for my own well-being more a little more, the others will manage.

The sun was shining through the gap between caramel-colored curtains that swayed lightly in the breeze coming through the open window. The warmth combined with muffled voices coming from the hallway lulled Kenma into a dreamless sleep. For now, he'd let himself sink into this blissful state where he didn't need to worry over anything. For now he could be at peace - his life was perfectly calm and relatively normal.

For now, he had no Kuroo to worry about.

Chapter Text

At precisely 7 pm, Shouyou had materialized in the hallway outside and was now pretty much trying to kick down the door of his room while shouting something garbled, knocking with the type of fervor that Kenma’d never witnessed before. That in itself was certainly something to behold because his friend was an extremely energetic person who never did anything half-heartedly unless it involved coursework.

It woke him up from a weird dream that involved flying birds, for which Kenma was grateful. He hurried to the door - god damn it, Akaashi was still present and inevitably bound to show up if the energetic boy did not seize control of his loud voice on time. Just how many times did he have to warn Shouyou to keep it down? He’d already lost count.

Much to Kenma's surprise, when he opened the door, he found Hinata happily explaining something to Akaashi who was actually carefully listening to the jumble of words escaping the shorter boy’s mouth, obviously amused. However, those two weren’t the ones that caught Kenma off guard - Akaashi had always had a soft spot for Hinata just like everyone else out there - but rather the sight of what seemed to be a passed out Bokuto lying in the middle of Akaashi’s doorway. The latter wasn’t paying his conked out ‘guest’ any attention, slowly pushing him back inside with his foot. For a second, Kenma had wondered whether Akaashi had finally snapped and gotten rid of the loud-mouthed menace, but then the said menace twitched and groaned right as Akaashi firmly shut the door into his face.

“Sorry about him. He’s easily… excitable.”

“It’s okay, I'm already used to it! Tell Bokuto-san that I said, uh… hi,” Hinata laughed it off and kept on speaking, somehow still not noticing that Kenma was now semi-patiently waiting for him to step inside.

Next to Shouyou stood his intimidating friend Kageyama who was looking around the hallway with a scary look on his equally intimidating face, as though hoping to find some object that he could use to kill himself with - or perhaps Hinata. He then abruptly turned to face the blond.

“Oh thank god,” he mumbled in that brooding manner of his and grabbed Hinata by the back of his white hoodie, forcing him to bow. “We apologize for the ruckus! It won’t happen again,” Kageyama shook the now-complaining boy for good measure. With a defeated sigh, Akaashi waved them away and dived back inside his room before either one of them could blink.

“Couldn’t you open the door a little sooner?” Kageyama complained as he dragged Shouyou inside, closing the door behind them. “Your floor is full of loud weirdos tonight.”

“Kuroo isn’t here, though!” Hinata piped up, scurrying forward to hug his best friend. “So no worries.”

“Uhh, Shouyou…” at that, Kenma shot a few discreet looks Kageyama’s way. The latter was busying himself with opening the curtains and aimlessly staring out the window. He let his voice drop to a low whisper. “I don’t think you should mention Kuroo… it’s kind of a secret…?”

“Oh, he knows!” Hinata continued unabashedly in an extremely loud voice. “He saw the text messages last night so I told him everything.”

Kenma physically felt his soul leaving his body, amber eyes widening. “Y-You did what?”

“It’s okay.” Kageyama didn’t have the decency to turn around to face him. “Nobody else found out. They would have if I hadn't dragged him outside in time. He talks a lot.”

“I most certainly don't!”

“Do you remember a single word that you said last night?”

“U-uh… I said— s-screw you! I remember stuff!” Hinata blew a raspberry, clearly annoyed by this losing battle.

Kageyama shot him an unimpressed stare.

“O-Okay so maybe I don’t, but that’s not the point! Your secret is safe with me.” Hinata tried to slip away from the uncomfortable situation that he’d been pushed into and pulled some sort of fighting pose straight out of a B-level superhero action movie. Sadly, he failed miserably, almost landing on his butt. It seemed that his impeccable balance hadn't returned just yet. The wonders of hangovers.

Kenma was beyond horrified when he sat down on the corner of his bed, trembling fingers curled tightly in bleached hair. “N-not with you, Shouyou. With… us.”

He’d never told anyone about his sexual preferences before, and now Shouyou had gone ahead and rattled them off to some random guy, who probably wasn’t even trustworthy. Without Kenma's permission. While drunk off his ass, too, unable to fully comprehend what he was doing to begin with. Unable to calculate the severity of the damage that he was dealing oh-so-carelessly. Kenma would’ve had some dignity left to spare if Shouyou hadn’t given away the name of his embarrassing crush - fucking Kuroo of all the people. His social life was now positively ruined. He should probably start packing his bags to move to Antarctica. He was going to become one of the penguins and live out the rest of his life among them. He needed to do it right now. Before the rave, because it was the perfect place to spread the rumors. Kenma had no time left to spare.

Noticing that the high-strung kid was starting to hyperventilate, Kageyama sidled up to Shouyou, who was staring at Kenma with a look of childish confusion as though he saw absolutely nothing wrong with this fucked up situation. Like it was perfectly fine for a guy to fall for another guy, someone like Kuroo nonetheless. Like no one would care or even think about judging it, even if he did tell them Kenma's, no longer, secret.

Kenma figured that he could always get rid of Kageyama. Three people couldn’t keep a secret, it was common knowledge. One of them had to die.

He was beginning to plan out seven different ways that he could kill Kageyama inside his dorm and then hide the evidence before Inuoka's return, when Kageyama cleared his throat and shuffled awkwardly, desperately avoiding eye contact. “Look, I’m not interested in your… love life, and I'm not going to tell anyone. So you can r-relax,” he reassured, looking as though he was experiencing intense physical pain just by saying it. Secretly, Kenma was glad to see him squirm. He still didn’t want to trust Kageyama, not even if he was Shouyou’s dear friend.

“…How do I know for sure?” Kenma wondered, eyeing Kageyama suspiciously.

“I see nothing wrong with the fact that you’re into…” his face then abruptly colored a deep cherry-red, and he discreetly glanced Hinata’s way. The latter boy still showed no signs of understanding. Kageyama’s palms twitched at that, fingertips trembling, so he curled them into loose fists and let them rest by his sides. He swallowed heavily, trying to calm down. “What I’m trying to say is that if you grew up with senpais like mine, nothing would surprise you anymore.” The blush faded away as Kageyama trembled, remembering something gross. “I’ve walked in on them plenty of times, so I don’t see how that's a problem anymore.”

Abruptly, Hinata woke up from his trance. “Senpais? Who? Are you talking about-”

Kageyama pulled a disturbed face. “Oikawa-san, yes.”

The room went still for a few moments, all of its occupants lost in their own swarming thoughts. Alas, Shouyou was the first one to speak up, his profoundly disturbed face matching Kageyama’s. “Oh. Ohh. Ew, no, gross.”

With an exasperated sigh, Kageyama cut off Hinata’s tirade of gagging noises, just in case Kenma got too interested and started asking for more elaboration. “I’m sure that we’re not here to reminiscence about the past, dumbass. Get to the point, or we’ll be late.”

“Um, that’s right!” The orange-haired boy looked around the room, hopping to Inuoka’s and Kenma’s shared wardrobe, fully knowing that the side covered in posters was Kenma’s. He was almost tripping over different inanimate objects strewn across the floor. They should really clean this place up, the sooner the better - room inspection was coming up. Hinata opened different drawers and dug through them, pulling out articles of different clothing. “Nishinoya-senpai had instructed us to make you look presentable. And to make sure that you don’t run away on our way there.”

“I can dress myself just fine.” Kenma strode up to his best friend, carefully navigation around the piles that made Hinata stumble, and tugged at the shirt that Hinata had been checking out with a little more intensity than necessary. “…and put those back,” he mumbled when Shouyou waved bright pink boxers in front of his face, a sly smile etched on his lips. The other immediately defended himself. “Those were a gift.”

“I didn’t say anything!” Hinata laughed, but then turned unusually serious. “And you should wear them! I think they will fit the rave theme?” He cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy, abruptly turning to Kageyama. “What do you think?”

“Yeah, fine by me, just hurry the hell up.”

Shouyou shrugged. “Guess you shouldn’t, then. If Kageyama says that it’s okay, then it’s bound to be a total catastrophe.”

Kenma immediately covered his laughter by faking a coughing fit and the dark-haired man flushed beet red with anger. Everyone knew that Kageyama wasn’t exactly friends with fashion - if it didn’t involve sports apparel - but in art school, he'd probably be called a genius.

His guests tried to settle it via banter, so it evolved into a huge fight between them. Kenma took that time to find himself some decent clothes in the back of the wardrobe. He borrowed Inuoka’s gray dress shirt, which was far too big on his small frame, yet somehow managed to complete the look. He vowed to not mess it up as he rolled the sleeves up his thin forearms, hoping that they’d stay that way instead of slipping out of their formation.

The duo stopped mid-argument involving some sort of ancient high school incident which involved Kageyama and a dumb snapback, to check out Kenma shyly shuffling his feet, tugging at the ends of his dress shirt. Hinata’s grin was absolutely blinding when he told his best friend to turn around a couple of times, and even Kageyama tried to force out something that was supposed to be an encouraging smile but ended up being a 'serial-killer-fresh-out-of-mental-ward' smirk.

The duo agreed on the fact that Kenma looked amazing, and left they campus, Kageyama's and Hinata's forearms brushing against their captive’s with every step.

Kenma chewed on his lower lip nervously, eyes darting around, searching for possible escape routes, but there were none. His plan to dive into the bushes had really failed then.

He knew that they were in the right place not because of the thickened mass of people, or the bass shaking the ground, but the unmistakable battle cries of Yamamoto, Tanaka and Nishinoya.

The shortest man of the group was standing on top of an ancient staircase - barely holding itself together and in desperate need of repairs - of an old building which was located next to the club’s entrance. Most of the people rolled their eyes at Nishinoya’s antics - his arms were crossed over his chest, legs spread wide to give him that powerful leader vibe - whereas others stared at him with unmasked curiosity adorning their faces, wondering what kind of show would be presented to them this time. The black-haired man had quite a reputation which consisted of many different opinions but was mostly considered neutral. Hinata whispered something that sounded suspiciously like ‘so cool’ and dragged Kenma closer, while Kageyama followed them like some looming bodyguard, openly glaring daggers at those who even dared to smile. It almost felt as though witnessing others' happiness was offending him somehow.

After a few beats of semi-silence, Nishinoya opened his eyes, pointing one finger towards the sky in a flashy manner. His coat - which was way too long to be his own - separated in the middle. Due to the sudden movement and the strong gust of wind that swept over the area - did Nishinoya time this or what? - its lapels were forcefully pulled apart. Kenma felt like rolling his eyes while Shouyou and the rest ‘aah’ed and ‘ooh’ed at the cheap show that the short man was putting up. The howls of admiration reminded him of the monkey section in a zoo.

The performance was truly cheap, Kenma noted, when he noticed that Nishinoya’s pockets were stuffed with handfuls of neon glow sticks.

“Ryuu!” he howled as loud as he could, attracting even more attention to himself and those around. In case it hadn’t been made clear yet, Kenma really didn’t like the attention, but he couldn’t do anything to avoid this. Shouyou was holding onto his wrist like a lifeline, cutting off his blood flow and possible escape routes.

“Osu!”

“Tora!”

“Yosh!”

When Nishinoya deemed that more than enough people were gathered and listening, he took a deep breath and threw off the coat, revealing a shirt that was meant to spell something incredibly witty, if not for one messed up kanji. “Put your war paint on, gentlemen! Tonight, we are going to a battle! We must protect our beautiful Kiyoko-san!”

“Yeah!!!”

Oh, how glad Kenma was that he wasn’t stuck in that poor girl’s shoes. From the corner of his eye, he noticed the pretty woman cover her face in embarrassment, trying her best to blend into the background.

“And if some of you fall, be not afraid! You'll become fine hunters! I dedicate my life to the beautiful Kiyoko-san, though!” As he said that, out of fucking nowhere - Kenma had to rub his eyes to make sure that he wasn’t seeing things - Nishinoya pulled out four small buckets. “Shirts off! Body painting is now in session! Line up, kids! The girls will do it for free if the art doesn't take up your entire body!”

“Where the hell did he even get those?” Kageyama mumbled and rubbed at his chin, trying to figure the trick out, while Shouyou started jumping around like a rabid bunny on crack.

“Oh, oh, me too! Kenma, let’s go get painted!” Without waiting for a response, Shouyou yanked on his wrist and shoved Kenma in Nishinoya’s general direction. “Noya-saaaan, look what I brought!”

“Oh, Shouyou!” Nishinoya grinned and passed the paintbrush back to Tanaka. Even more people quickly flooded the old staircase, buzzing excitedly like bees in a beehive. “You made it after all. And you’re Kenma, right?” he laughed in a raucous way. The blond felt his eyebrow twitch.

“Kozume,” he corrected, not used to being called by his first name by people he barely knew.

“Alright, Kenma, what can I get for ya today? S’all free for you guys.” Nishinoya tugged on the material of his pockets, almost ripping at the seams due to all those strings and sticks. That had to be very uncomfortable.

Thankfully, Hinata butted in before Kenma could even answer that he didn’t need any. “We’ll take those bracelet thingies!”

“Sure thing,” Nishinoya nodded and pulled out five bracelets from his back pocket. When Shouyou reached out to take them, he quickly moved his hand away, fingers closed around liquid filled strings waiting to be lit. “But not until you do me a favor!”

“I thought you said it was free!”

“It is, listen to what I’m tellin’ ya!” Nishinoya jumped up so that he didn’t need to stand on his tiptoes. “Find Daichi-san for me and hand these out while you’re at it. In the meantime, I’ll take care of your bud.” He slapped Kenma’s back with a huge grin plastered on his face. Kenma tried his best to stop himself from complaining. He wasn’t very good at dealing with people who were not only overly-energetic, but touchy-feely too. He sent a pleading look Hinata’s way, but the boy was already doing 360 around his axis, searching for Sawamura.

“I can’t see anything! Oi, Kageyama, crouch down! I’ll get on your shoulders and look for him!”

“Hell no, dumbass! Do I look like a ladder to you!?” Kageyama spat in an acidic voice, but the whole view was ruined by the lit glow sticks that Hinata had handed him. He looked like an over-grown pouting kid lost in a circus.

“At least a ladder isn’t stupid!” Shouyou stuck out his tongue and proceeded to piss Kageyama off.

Nishinoya took advantage of their dispute and dragged Kenma further away from the mass of people, away from his best friend and the remains of what little dignity that he still had left. “So what do you want on ya? Pick a color and a style!”

“I really… don’t need anything…” he mumbled. His habit of dragging out his sentences whenever he was left with strangers was starting to kick in. “I don’t know if you…”

“Whoa, you need to speak louder! I can barely hear ya there.” Blunt as always. “Don’t be so meek! And don’t worry, I’m not the one doing the whole painting thing - I couldn’t draw a straight line even if my life depended on it. “

Kenma let out a short breath that he didn’t know he'd been holding in. At least now he didn’t have to worry about huge green glowing dicks being painted on his face. Not that Nishinoya seemed to be on Tanaka and Yamamoto’s level of immaturity, because those two were doing exactly that right before they left. That was bound to earn a lot of raised eyebrows. "Noya-san" sent a knowing smirk over his shoulder. “All calmed down? Good.” He abruptly stopped, stuck two fingers into his mouth and whistled, a sharp sound that could be heard clearly even over the building up noise. “Yo, Yacchan!”

"Yacchan…? Who’s that?" Kenma quietly wondered, but his answer came immediately in the form of a blonde girl that he knew all too well.

She ran up to them, her side-ponytail bobbing up and down. “Sorry I’m late!” she gasped out and gripped at her side. Her breath was ragged and she wiped away the sweat formed at her temples. “I had some stuff to take care of back home.”

“S’all fine! Kiyoko-san’s already started. Your first customer of the night is right here.” He pushed the unwilling Kenma towards the girl, who only shuffled awkwardly. “He’s—”

“Kenma-san, hello!” Yachi Hitoka smiled nervously and Kenma felt like dying right then, right there. Maybe a meteor would fall down and strike him dead. Or a heart attack. He could use one now. Anything to avoid this embarrassment.

“…H-hi.”

Nishinoya looked at them with a pleasantly surprised smile lighting up his face. “Oh, you know each other?”

Please don’t say anything, please don’t say anything, please—

“Um, yes!” Fuck. “He…” Yachi’s eyes were downcast as though she was expecting the cracked staircase to give her the correct answer. “Uh… used to come to the café I work part-time at. “

Saved! For now. She glanced at him, brown eyes glistening, and chewed on her bottom lip, smearing her teeth with pink lip-gloss.

Thankfully, much like the rest of the people that Kenma had spent the majority of his time with, Nishinoya wasn’t a mood reader. “Well then, I’ll leave you two alone!” He completely misunderstood the situation, sent a sultry smile Kenma’s way and winked. “I must find Kiyoko-san and help out Ryuu. Join us after you’re done!” And with a war cry of ‘Kiyoko-saaaan, I’m coming for youuuu’ he was off.

Kenma had never felt more awkward in his entire life and he was pretty prone to awkward situations. They were attracted to him like metal to magnet. “Uh, thanks… for not mentioning anything.”

Yachi looked at him all wide-eyed and then jumped away as though he was diseased or something. “N-No, how could I! I have no right to! It’s just that I didn’t expect to see you here, or to run into you after what happened!” At least she was being honest. She managed to calm herself down, fidgeting with the hem of a denim skirt. “It’s a bit lonely at the café now. With you gone, Kuroo-san stopped coming too…” She heaved a sigh and shook off the seemingly heavy, star-printed backpack off her shoulders.

Kenma pulled at the loose threads of his jeans, suddenly uncertain where to place his hands, what to do with them or how to react. “He did…? Why?” he trailed off, not sure if he truly wanted to know the reason.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Kenma swallowed. “I really… don’t want to talk about it.”

It was Yachi’s turn to squirm. She looked at the crowd loitering behind Kenma’s back and clicked her tongue. “Well, it’s not my place to force you. But you should definitely return to the café! It feels wrong when others take your seat by the window or order jasmine tea. P-please consider it!” She crouched down and unzipped the backpack, fervently rummaging through it.

Her pink ears gave away the truth of her sudden movement and Kenma felt a smile tugging at his face, but tried to keep his face impassive. “I will… consider it.”

“Good!” she said a little louder than it was necessary and stood up abruptly, a paintbrush and a bucket of the same kind of paint that Nishinoya had, held in her hands. Her face was serious. “Now tell me what kind of design and palette you prefer. It’s the least I can do.”

He knew that he was in good hands.

“Whoaaa!” Shouyou exhaled and stared at the left side of Kenma’s face which had a carefully painted pattern on it. It began at his cheekbone and gracefully branched upwards, ending in the middle of his forehead. He tilted his head to the side and squinted his brown eyes. “If you turn your head like this it kinda looks like a flower.”

“I-Is that bad?”

“No! It’s not! It’s really awesome!” Hinata chirped excitedly, spreading out his arms. “When you go inside it will be like whoa! Do those specks under your right eye shine too?”

“If you like it that much, you should ask Yachi-san to give you something similar.” Kenma turned towards the long queue waiting for their masterpieces. “She’s really good at it.” Yachi was painting some guy’s naked back. The brush that wasn't being used dangled from her mouth, held in place by teeth. She seemed to be concentrated solely on the task at hand even though the guy was busy running his mouth.

“Awww, did you make a friend while I was gone?” Shouyou playfully jabbed at his ribs with an elbow. Kenma lightly swatted the arm away.

“Not… particularly,” he said, unwilling to bring up his and Yachi’s backstory on the table once more.

“You should definitely talk to her, she’s so cool! This one time-”

Kenma did not get to hear what this one time was because Nishinoya’s loud voice had invaded his ears. “Daichi-san, you’re here!”

Sawamura made his way though the throng of people and waved. Only then, Kenma had noticed that Shouyou’s hands were absent of any glow sticks, which meant that even while fighting, he and Kageyama had managed to complete their task. “Yo, Noya, what is it?”

The aforementioned man - whose torso was now covered in impressive artwork - placed his hands on his hips. “Can you take the paint to Hayato-san? We’re already done here.”

“What do you mean by done?”

“Much appreciated!” Nishinoya grinned cheekily and grabbed his lackeys by the arms, yelling something along the lines of ‘Roooolling thunder!!! Chaaaarge, my men!!!’ followed by enthusiastic shouts of ‘Oryaaaaahrgh!’ and suddenly vanished out of sight, leaving a gaping Daichi behind.

The older man quickly dived into the gap between people that the trio had managed to slip through, but they were already gone. “Nishinoyaaaa! Get your ass here, I’m not done talking!” Daichi roared uselessly, but it was far too late.

The air crackled with tension and the crowd separated to let an enraged Sawamura through. Yachi yelped in distress when the man approached her, and Hinata’s eyes darted around to see if there was a gap big enough to shove Kageyama through in order to disappear. Fast.

“Now he’s done it… A pissed Daichi-san is not to be messed with,” Kageyama mumbled and tugged on Shouyou’s hand. “This way!” he hissed loud enough for the two to hear and they quickly got the hell out of there before all hell broke loose.

Not much happened after that. They reunited with the idiot trio when Nishinoya popped out of nowhere and suggested – in a very commanding voice - that they follow him. While Kenma wholeheartedly refused, Kageyama simply played the obedient junior role and followed after without a second thought, dragging an idle Shouyou behind. That in itself gave the blond no other choice but to follow. He’d much rather be with someone than all alone among people he barely recognized with all those layers of paint on.

They waited for the club doors to open and finally let them in, chatting about everything and nothing all the while. Kenma didn’t bother to listen to most of the conversations as usual, occasionally nodding whenever Shouyou turned his way to ask for an opinion. It’s not like he had even missed any potentially valuable information - it was mostly just Nishinoya speaking about the money that they'd wasted on the preparations, and the challenges of buying out the entire stock-worth of glow sticks. While he blabbered on to his very interested friends, Kenma looked around and tried to find someone that he at least vaguely recognized. It was a tough task because he'd never had many acquaintances to begin with and finding them in this dark - only chased away by a lone lamppost ways ahead, and the already shining neons – was nearly impossible. The usually bright lights above the club’s entrance were dimmed, leaving the crowd breathless and excited. And in complete dark, Kenma mentally added, but nobody except for him seemed to care about that insignificant detail.

At some point he thought that he'd noticed Inuoka, but the guy had pitch-black hair unlike the chocolate-brown strands belonging to his roommate, despite being styled in the exact same way. Kenma cut eye contact the moment the guy turned to him. Kindaichi, his mind offered unhelpfully, but Kenma didn’t care. If Kunimi wasn’t with him - the shorter guy was nowhere to be seen and Kenma did do a double check, eyesight amazing despite hours upon hours spent playing video games and staring at the screen of his phone and/or computer, so there was no way that he was mistaken. Besides, he didn’t need to be caught acting all creepy.

He and Kindaichi didn’t really get along - that might have had something to do with the fact Kenma hung out with Shouyou and Kageyama – but Kunimi Akira was a nice guy and even fun to be around when he wasn't overflowing with sarcasm and hatred for humanity in general, which was mostly never. He took down good notes though, and Kenma used that knowledge to his advantage.

Kindaichi glared daggers at the back of Kageyama’s head, and if looks could kill, right now the latter one would be lying dead on the ground, police and ambulance alarms ringing in the distance while Kindaichi made his great escape. However, metaphors had yet to cause any physical damage, so he merely stormed away when Kageyama didn’t even bother looking in his general direction.

They were kind of immature, rivalries like that. Stupid too, especially when you couldn't get over them, Kenma mussed. But that was none of his business in any way so he wiped away the image of Kindaichi’s hateful eyes from his memory.

Kenma saw even more people with whom he'd shared classes with yet never spoken to. Whenever they caught him staring, eyebrows raised, Kenma would immediately avert his eyes, unsure what he should do. Greeting them out of nowhere was plain weird, so he stopped his task and refocused on his own group.

In his uninterested absence, it'd gotten bigger and the sass levels had seemingly risen after Ennoshita had made his appearance, soon followed by the ever-inseparable duo of Tsukishima and Yamaguchi. Everyone’s jaws dropped at the sight of the tall, lean blond, who, despite his lack of body paint, looked ready for the rave. Kenma knew that the material of his clothes would undeniably glow brighter than any of their face paint combined, only to be rivaled by Nishinoya’s own flashy get-up. Tsukishima balanced it out very neatly. The bracelets creatively pulled around his headphones piqued Kenma’s interest. He'd always wanted futuristic-like headphones.

He made a quick mental note to surf the web for them once he got back home, wondering whether they actually sold anything that was even remotely close to Tsukishima’s created image.

Yamaguchi seemed happy that his best friend got showered with positive attention and started praising him as well, but was swiftly cut off by a curt ‘shut up’.

Nishinoya threw a pair of gloves at Tsukishima’s face, which he caught with ease. Just where the hell was the former hiding everything…? “You better be ready to kick those pretty boys’ asses at that dance-off, partner in crime!”

Tsukishima's cheekbones tinted at the comment, but due to the lack of light it was barely visible. “Don’t call me that. It makes me seem like I’m one of you-”

The soon-to-be-bitch-fit-bordering-rage-rant was drowned out by Ennoshita’s bemused voice. “Wait, you dance?”

Yamaguchi nodded enthusiastically, eager to answer. “One of Tsukki’s many secret tale-”

“God, Yamaguchi, shut up.”

“Don’t be shy now, kid!”

“Never woulda thought!”

Kenma leaned in to whisper into Shouyou’s ear. “Is that true?”

The orange-haired boy side-eyed Tsukishima who was now being collectively picked on by the loud-mouthed trio. “We found out a few weeks back. I was just as amazed as the rest. Nishinoya-senpai said that he had a feeling all along. He really doesn’t seem like the type to do it, does he?”

“Is he any good?” Kenma hadn't realized that the question slipped out a little louder than he'd intended until it was too late. It was mostly because he wanted to be clearly heard and Yamamoto's shouting was making it nearly impossible.

Pairs of eyes turned his way and he immediately felt like shrinking back. That was rude of him… Probably? Tsukishima’s cool gaze looked him over, criticizing, and as if sensing the catastrophe that was inevitably bound to happen, Kageyama rushed in to Kenma's rescue with a deadpan “no" at the same time Hinata said “yep!”

“Really,” Ennoshita inquired in a flat voice, still skeptic.

Yamaguchi looked at Kageyama with a stare that practically screamed "judging you so hard right now for spreading nasty lies about Tsukki" while the bespectacled blond’s chilly gaze left Kenma in order to focus on Kageyama. A sardonic smirk pulled at his thin lips. “Oh? What’s this I hear? The King’s actually jealous of something he doesn’t have - a talent, no less? Is the world coming to an end?”

As Kenma had mentioned before - dumb rivalries.

“I doubt that you can call that a talent, Tsukishima. Nothing to be proud of, too.”

“Then why won't the King show a lowly peasant such as I how to properly do it?” His smirk grew with every passing second and Yamaguchi snickered by his side. The tension skyrocketed in record time. Ennoshita muttered something that sounded like "where’s Suga-san when you need him the most". “I’d be more than happy to accept your challenge.” He bowed to mock the black-haired man even further.

Kageyama snorted. “You’re seriously not trying to challenge me to a dance-off of all the things. Are you five?”

“Are you scared? I never thought I’m that intimidating. Isn’t that your job, King?”

“Did you just-”

“Tsukki would-”

Kenma suppressed a low groan. This might take a while, knowing the maturity level of those two. Not to mention the rest – except for Ennoshita who seemed like he wanted nothing more than to leave - didn’t lift a single finger to stop them, too entertained, occasionally butting in to inflame more bantering. Those two did not deserve their heights, why not give that to someone smart who actually knew how to keep their mouth shut, Kenma thought bitterly. He scanned the crowd once more, yet saw no furious Sawamura coming their way, ready to smack some sense into his pissy charges. How he was capable of dealing with the crow group, Kenma would never know or understand.

He checked his phone every two minutes, hoping that the entrance inside would be granted already just so that he could finally head in, pretend to have fun and then leave ten minutes later with an excuse that he was going to use the bathroom. Approximately eight minutes later, Kenma had decided to start a new game of Flappy Bird and give himself third-degree anger issues when he heard Yamamoto undoubtedly mention Kuroo.

“—he’s on good terms with the club’s owner. Said that he'd only allow this if everything stays intact and if Kuroo manages to come up with a good idea for a theme. Oh, and bring a lot of people that night, of course."

“Akiteru was big help in persuading. Give your bro our thanks, Tsukishima.”

“Good terms, pft, yeah right. Did he get on his knees and beg, if you know what I mean-”

Kenma’s thumb froze. The screen of his phone flashed a GAME OVER, followed by a huge seven on his scoreboard.

“Does that come across as a surprise?” Tsukishima drawled out in a bored voice and Kenma felt the man’s eyes on him. Did he truly look that… unsettled? Caught off guard, Kenma tried to compose himself, but the taller one carried on as though nothing happened and he supposedly hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary. “That idiot is always like this.”

“I’d be more concerned if that guy was all over your brother, too, Tsukishima. And if he is, oh man, make sure Akiteru does some tests real quick,” Tanaka sneered. Kenma felt his blood grow cold and quickly shoved his phone back into the pocket of his black jeans just so that he'd have something to distract himself with. It was common knowledge that Tanaka Ryuunosuke didn’t exactly approve of Kuroo’s nightly escapades, and he was one of the very few people who would voice it out. He never kept his opinions to himself.

You don’t actually know him, Kenma breathed in through his nose as slowly and soundlessly as he could, as to not attract any unwanted attention to himself. You’re one of those people who judge beforehand and don’t even try to-

To do what exactly? Understand him?

Did Kenma himself understand someone like Kuroo? Was there anything to understand to begin with? A guy who never hid anything and didn’t care what others thought of him as long as it made him happy.

Kuroo always kept it very simple and he would confirm it from time to time - yeah, he liked doing what he did and who the fuck cared about others' opinions. If he wanted to bring someone home, why the fuck would it matter to anyone? Apparently, it was fun screwing someone, and why would he ever deny himself that? Saying anything against it would've made him a liar and Kenma knew that Kuroo hated liars.

So who was Kenma to defend the guy? Especially when he knew the common truths himself. Why did he get the urge to do so in the first place? Didn't he vow to become like Tanaka? Judge Kuroo for doing weird shit and not feeling any boundaries while at it.

"He sees most people as a quick fuck," Yaku's laughter rang in his memories. "Taken or single, he doesn’t care because he never thinks about dating. It’s a foreign concept to him, unlike the words "one night stand". Especially if he knows that he can gain something out of it."

A rave was at a stake here. Of course Tanaka would recall those exact words.

Tsukishima’s glare turned downright murderous. “What did you just say?” he hissed. “Akiteru would never, not with a guy like that—not with any guy.”

The semi-silence hung heavy in the air like lethal gas and nobody dared to breathe.

Unexpectedly, Tanaka burst out laughing, popping the tension like a bubble. “Of course Aki-san wouldn’t! That was a joke, don’t be such a sourpuss about it.”

Tsukishima wasn’t laughing. Neither was Kenma.

“Ryuu, don’t even joke about that stuff!” Yamamoto slapped the back of his head. “You’re insulting his brother for insinuating something like that.”

Kenma felt Shouyou’s hand rest on his own slightly trembling one, fingers squeezing lightly, trying to calm him down.

He really shouldn’t have come here tonight. It was obvious that it was a bad idea to begin with. What was his deal even? The truth left behind a bitter aftertaste, but it was always better than the sickly sweetness of lies. And in a few minutes, Kenma would be witnessing everything first-hand. Kuroo, all over the place. Flirting and… being a sexual deviant, how Tanaka had mostly put it.

Nishinoya took that moment of awkwardness to slip away and bring along Asahi, flippantly saying that the shy giant's presence would bless them and grant holy protection from all and any siren traps that Kuroo might've set up. After that, they laughed it off and carried on without a hint of awkwardness.

“So yeah, he’s free of any charges that way, only needs to take care of the preparations. Noya-san and I signed up for the glow stick hunt and Kuroo roped Yacchan into getting the paint cheaper. You know how her mom’s a huge figure in that industry.”

“At least he didn’t need to buy any booze. They really liked the rave pitch. A lot of girls offered their help with advertising.”

It was back to the basics and they quickly eased into a comfortable conversation about that 'little something' that Nishinoya and some guys plus Tsukishima had in store for everyone that night. Eventually, the lights above the entrance lit up, effectively blinding the partygoers standing nearby. Happy howling drowned out the sounds of the snoozing neighborhood. Kenma’s hearing was mercilessly destroyed by Hinata’s loud cheering and hooting.

It marked the beginning of Kenma’s god-awful night and the end of his daily life.

Chapter Text

The music was so loud that Kenma could no longer hear himself speaking to Shouyou. The bass shook the floor, pulsing through his entire body to the point his own heartbeat felt a little weird, like it had somehow synchronized with the sound and the positively buzzing atmosphere. It was hot there, far too hot, but Kenma refused to take off any articles of clothing, too mindful of the fact that he'd worn a borrowed shirt. They'd gotten inside in record time and now the true party had started.

Kenma was left with Shouyou and Kageyama, watching them with eagle-like eyes in order to avoid separation. It was difficult to move around everyone and body contact with strangers made his throat constrict just a little. His palms were sweating, yet he refused to let go of Shouyou’s hands. Hinata was guiding him around with light steps, diving through the gaps between people like a fish in water. Kenma tried his best to not look around too much, fearing that he might spot Kuroo, so he kept his gaze fixed on Kageyama’s broad shoulders and Shouyou’s bright orange hair.

Speaking was pointless, Kenma had noted, when he saw his best friend’s mouth move but barely heard anything.

“What was that?” he'd almost yelled into his ear. The twinkle in those brown eyes indicated that Kenma was heard this time around.

“I said that you look really nice!” Shouyou repeated and pointed at Kenma’s face with a huge smile. “The glow of your face paint!”

Only then Kenma’s anxiety had subsided if only a little and he finally noticed that everyone around him was glowing in one way or another, the paint on their bodies forming graceful sharp lines of tribal patterns and everything else imaginable. The reflective clothes, the rave bracelets, and the gaudy make-up that the girls wore were nearly blinding. It was all so eye-catching and almost breathtaking. Shouyou’s own face had been painted as well, a mix of orange and green tribal patterns drawn in Yachi’s precise lines.

Everything was glowing, the row of blacklights lining the walls giving life to their surroundings. Kenma felt an honest smile tugging on his lips. “…You too, Shouyou.”

The strangely nice moment was interrupted by Kageyama leaning in to shout into Shouyou’s ear. He nodded enthusiastically and the tall man disappeared as if swallowed up by the masses.

“He’s going to settle it with Tsukishima!” Shouyou announced.

“I hope it’s not a dance-off…”

“No way, Kageyama can’t dance. Last time he tried, it ended up on a social network. I think it’s something else! Maybe a drinking contest, I don’t know? They will do what they do the best-“

“What’s that?”

“Embarrass themselves, most likely.” Shouyou dived through another gap and suddenly they were out of the bustling part of the crowd with a little more breathing space around them. Kenma had to cover his eyes because the bar was shining way too much. Were all those lights really necessary...? A bunch of people were already perched on the stools and the music there was on a more manageable level. Thank god for that, because Kenma didn’t feel like losing his voice from screaming himself hoarse.

“Kenma, do you want something to drink?” Shouyou asked as they approached the bar. He quickly spotted his friends - a nervous Asahi along with Sugawara and Yachi leaning against Yamaguchi's side. Sugawara greeted them with his usual warm smile, while Asahi seemed downright ready to make a run for it if not for Suga’s tight grip on his forearm. He blushed furiously when Hinata complimented his appearance, his hair let down - a rare occasion. Yamaguchi moved aside to make some space and continued chatting with Yachi, both of their eyes focused on the phone that Yamaguchi held in his hand.

Hinata’s eyes twinkled when he looked at Kenma, fidgeting with a bracelet. “So what do you want? I’ll pay for you.”

“You don’t really have to…” His friend's intense expression didn’t change. It meant that Shouyou's mind was already made up and that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. It made Kenma relent, he didn’t feel like arguing with him right now. “Okay, I’ll just take whatever you’re having.”

“’Kay,” he chirped and turned towards the bartender, one hand raised in the air as if he were in a classroom. “Four shots of pepper tequila!”

“Six,” Yachi corrected, pointing at herself and Yamaguchi. “And a Pinacolada! Kiyoko-san texted me that she’ll be here in a few.”

The bartender flashed them a smile, and with a groan, Kenma let his head hit the bar-top.

Damn it, what had he done?

It was amazing. This was amazing.

Wait, what was amazing? Oh, right.

It’s incredible that you learn something new about yourself every day. Well, not every day, but often enough. Yeah. It’s like finding out how long you can stay under the stream of a shower while holding your breath or how long you can go without sleep. It’s like finding out how much you bleed after you nearly slice off your fingers because you’re actually a nice person and try to do something nice for your roommate every once in a while. It's like finding out how many marshmallows you can fit into your mouth before nearly suffocating.

And, during that night, Kenma had found out that he was ridiculously weak to alcohol. He was such a lightweight that it was laughable, and Shouyou really did laugh, right into his face too, but that was only because he himself was so hammered that he could barely stand up. After some time, they agreed to take a small break, and that was the moment when Kageyama had found them, half sprawled-out on the bar. He'd freaked out in his discreet Kageyama-way and bought them water to help the alcoholic poison leave their systems quicker. Hinata called him a bully for reasons unknown, and despite the taller man complaining, he didn’t shove away the drooling Shouyou off his shoulder, the orange-haired man’s left leg comfortably thrown over Kageyama's lap. Kenma used that time to talk to Yamaguchi, while Yachi and Kiyoko, not nearly as drunk as the blond, rubbed their cheeks together. Lady affection was weird, he concluded.

Surprisingly, Yamaguchi was pretty decent to talk to. He was funny, kinda, when he didn’t try too much. He was a very good listener though and contrary to popular belief, he  didn’t speak about Tsukki all the time. Only every three sentences. But it’s wasn’t annoying, it was so very… Yamaguchi-ish. They were bonding over booze and talking about something interesting – Kenma was a little sad that his brain could barely register a single word that his companion was saying, and that he'd only comprehended the meaning of their conversations for like three seconds in total — but he was bound to forget it all in the morning. He hoped that he wouldn’t. Tadashi was a good guy when he wasn’t trying to forcibly appear cool in front of Tsukishima.

Kenma had tried to control himself though and not to get too wasted. He wanted to be at least a little aware of his surroundings, even though his entire frame was already shaking as though he’d been doing this for ten years in a row without any breaks in-between. His stomach performed funny flips, it kind of felt like he’d spent several hours in an amusement park.

After an hour or so, Shouyou had finally quit drooling on Kageyama and seemed a little more focused, unlike Kenma, who kept sinking deeper and deeper into his glass.

“Kenma, Kenma, hey, let’s dance.”

“Wha.“

“Come on, I really wanna dance!”

Kenma wasn’t drunk enough to not comprehend the implications. Not nearly drunk enough to make a fool out of himself. “Shouyou, you don’t know how to dance. I-I don’t know how to dance? …I think?” It made him wonder. He’d never tried it before, maybe if he were to say ‘yes’ he’d find out something new? Nah. Maybe next time.

“Neither do they!” Hinata hummed happily like he’d just stated something obvious, which obviously he did, and pointed at the mass of grinding bodies, but Kenma only shook his head in disapproval. Bad move, because it made his head throb.

“I don’t want to. Why don’t you just… ggggo with K-Kage… Kay-ga—” Shit, why was his name so hard to pronounce when he was drunk? “Tobes.”

“Oh my god.” Kageyama buried his face into his hands.

Geez, what was his problem?

Naturally, if he weren’t drunk he would've realized, but he was, so who even cared.

Yamaguchi cracked up to the point where he was in tears and had taken out his phone, texting someone. Tobes knew that this was his cue to leave. He then grabbed Hinata’s wrist, but pulled him up with surprising tenderness. “Let’s go, dumbass Hinata, I-I’ll go with you,“ he stuttered, the look on his face resembling something out of a horror movie.

The orange-haired boy looked like, he'd just discovered the truth of the universe, his eyes glistening like… some shoujo manga character's, Kenma’s brain uselessly finished.

“Really?” he asked, hopefully.

“Yes, really.“

Oh, was that a moment? It was.

“Y-You’re the best,” Hinata sobbed and clung to Kageyama’s torso like a baby koala. “If I’m ever bein’ a dick to you, I’m sorry. Thanks for caring so much, I-“ he then got overly emotional and started blubbering even louder, voice muffled by the loud noise and the material of his personal eucalyptus tree’s shirt. The sound vaguely reminded Kenma of a revving motorboat.

Shouyou was suffocating himself while Kageyama tried to peel him away, unsuccessfully. “Quit it! Hey! Dumbass, I will throw you—Hinata! Gross, don’t wipe your snot on me!”

“You’re the best, oh my god, I love you so much, bless you.“

Yamaguchi was howling and Yachi’s phone was out in record time, filming the entire scene. Kageyama’s face turned an alarming shade of bright red, even Kenma could feel the heat. “You’re drunk, what are you even saying?!”

Shouyou’s tears dried in an instant and he stood as straight as he could, palms placed over his heart as he swayed back and forth and croaked out “God's honest truth.”

Kageyama punched him without holding back, face almost deep purple. “What the actual hell!?” he ground out, jaw pressed tight. He stared at Hinata as if waiting for some sort of comeback or explanation, but when he got nothing, he turned on his heel and stormed away, almost shoving people out of his path, earning annoyed glares.

Shouyou tenderly probed at the aching spot where Kageyama’s knuckles came in contact and wordlessly ran after him, almost falling over.

It was right then that Kenma had realized that he was unworthy of the title ‘best friend’ because he was far too drunk to fully comprehend what had happened. He didn’t even want to think about the fact that this could be a potential threat to Kageyama and Hinata’s friendship in the near future.

Yamaguchi asked him if he'd wanted to play a drinking game and when he said ‘yes’ without giving it much thought, his evening went downwards, past the firm earth and straight into the pits of burning hell.

The game was called ‘Never have I ever’. Kenma curiously asked about the rules.

“You mean you never played it? That’s just plain weird, man!” Yamaguchi laughed but Kenma wasn’t too offended, attention focused on the freckles peppering his new-found friend’s cheeks. He wondered if he could draw constellations. Sadly, he didn’t have a sharpie nearby.

Yamaguchi summarized the rules and they were simple enough even for his hazy mind to figure out. They roped in Yachi and Kiyoko and then some more people joined them of their own volition. He didn’t quite catch their names, not really, but the trio knew them, so it was fine. After two rounds, Sugawara and Tanaka joined in as well. People stared at Tanaka’s face with raised eyebrows just as Kenma had predicted and the delinquent pulled ‘the face’ to make them back-off. They did so immediately.

“I don’t understand,” Tanaka huffed once he dropped on an empty stool located right next to Kenma. “They keep starin’ at me all weird and I had like twelve dudes hit on me tonight. I know I’d do me too, but really? Do I look like a homo? Or am I suddenly attractive to gay guys?” he asked Kenma, but the blond’s eyes weren’t on Tanaka’s face - well, they were, but they were focused on the green glowing penis drawn on his forehead. It was even more apparent inside the dimness of the club and he wanted to say something, but behind the buzz-cut, Sugawara popped up and pressed a finger to his full lips, shaking his head to the sides, a wide smile stretching his lips.

Unusual. When did this nice boy turn into such a deviant?

They played the game, and much to everyone’s surprise, Sugawara was getting drunker with every round. What surprised Kenma the most was that the questions were mostly sexual in nature, so he'd barely touched his shot.

After the tenth round – Kenma had to drink only three times – Lev had materialized behind him, slinging one painted arm around his shoulders and whispering into his ear. “Kenma-san, be honest, I know that you blew your roommie at least once!”

The blond might have grunted something that was either ‘fuck you’ or ‘fuck off’ or maybe even a combination of both. He didn’t really remember because the loud "hey hey hey!" that reached his ears made him cringe so violently that he spilled half of the shot on his borrowed shirt. Fuck!

“Oooh, whatchu guys playin’?” Bokuto slurred and threw himself against Lev. One of the guys... uh, Futa-something, told him. A Cheshire-like smile graced Bokuto’s face. “Fuck yeah, best game. I rule at this! Haiba, let’s do it.”

Kenma had hoped beyond hope that the answer was going to be "let’s not", but was severely disappointed when two more shots of Finnish cranberry vodka were ordered in Suga's sing-song voice.

“Hey, can I squeeze in?” Bokuto tapped Kenma’s shoulder and the blond had to squint because those electric-blue tribal patterns covering Bokuto's body hurt his bloodshot eyes. He frowned and curled back his lip to show just how much he disliked him, hoping that he'd take a hint and go away.

“No, you may not.“

Kenma didn’t get to finish his sentence, because Bokuto's sweaty side was already pressed against Kenma's, filling the small gap between him and Tanaka. He tapped the table a few times to direct the bartender’s attention to himself. Lev stood behind Kenma, occasionally leaning against him whenever he swayed too much. All in all, Kenma felt boxed in, and it made him a bit angry. He elbowed Lev in the solar plexus, not hard enough to hurt but just enough to regain some semblance to personal space. Kenma then stared Bokuto down who didn’t even have the decency to look his way, and once he did, he only winked playfully.

That egocentric brat obviously thought that Kenma was checking him out when in reality he was conjuring violent mental images of setting the owl-man on fire. He wouldn’t burn very well because he wasn’t wearing much with his shirt gone, the rest of his torso covered in that same boring electric-blue color. Kenma could always pour alcohol on him, it inflamed easily, right?

Bokuto smelled like cheap champagne showers, sweat and strangely like Kuroo. It was a weird thought to entertain, but Kenma knew the scent well enough from those short instances whenever the black-haired man would walk by in the hallways. The scent of citrus fruit which reminded Kenma of window detergent and what he thought to be freshly cut up wood filled his senses. Kuroo and Bokuto smelled like sexual appeal and premises that were packed with chainsmokers.

Bokuto leaned in closer, close enough to whisper to Kenma, that yeah, he was cute and all, but they really couldn’t hit it off because he was already a taken man. Whatever that bullshit was that Bokuto had come up with on the spot to spew unashamedly, it surely made Tanaka stare their way with a very scandalized gleam in his eye, jaw slackened. Annoyed, Kenma barely restrained the urge to punch Bokuto to cut him off before could even get anywhere with it.

He told the obnoxious fuckboy off and got called a hard to get, cocky brat in return, or something along those lines. Kenma simply kicked Bokuto' shin and decided to ignore him for the rest of the game.

Kenma wasn’t Shouyou, so he had no idea how he was supposed to deal with these kinds of people. To him, this was the perfection option.

Bokuto pouted and then fucked the hell off, thankfully.

Kenma entertained Lev and even let him hug his shoulders whenever he was feeling particularly affectionate, no longer amused by any of it and somehow managing to deal with it. Could it be that this was the reason why people turned into alcoholics? Because alcohol gave them strength to deal with the stuff they'd usually avoid on a daily basis? Bokuto sometimes glanced his way whenever a new round started and Kenma actually drank to something he’d done before. They were strange gazes, ones Kenma couldn’t decipher, but they never lasted long enough for Kenma to get anywhere with his drunken analysis to begin with. Bokuto was undeniably loud, the center of everyone's attention, good or bad, and Kenma vaguely considered leaving when Yamaguchi passed out on the table and the lesbian kisses started. Tanaka gaped at the girls with a confused bordering disturbed yet strangely aroused look on his face. It was entertaining to watch.

“Holy shit, Kenma-san, do you see that.” Lev breathed heavily against the shell of his sensitive ear. Kenma had to shove him off because he wasn't about to get poked by any sudden boners. Admittedly, Yachi had more game than any of them combined - her glowing, orange lipstick was smeared all over Kiyoko’s lips, smudged on her cheek. Tanaka’s inner conflict had abruptly come to a full stop when he'd noticed it and he called out:

“Never have I ever wanted to have sex with Kuroo Tetsurou!”

In Kenma’s eyes, time seemingly slowed down. Seconds turned into minutes, into hours, and he stared at his shot with wide, fearful eyes. He felt like he should be honest, mind not comprehending that he could simply lie and leave his shot untouched. But then the stupid, naïve part of him noticed that the entire table was downing alcohol like it was the end of the world, even Bokuto was, and so, with trembling fingers, Kenma carefully raised the shot glass to his chapped lips, sipping on the bitter liquid. It burned his throat as it traveled down and rested heavily in the pit of his churning stomach. It weighted on Kenma, this sense of guilt and relief, but once he looked up only to see Lev’s mortified face, he immediately felt like throwing up.

It wasn’t Lev that made the whole thing worse, oh no.

“Oh my fucking god,” that single sentence snapped Kenma back to reality harsher than ever before. Bokuto was staring at him, right at him, eyes the size of saucers. He abruptly turned to Lev who was still unresponsive. It seemed that he hadn’t even moved from his spot, like a stunned statue with lively green eyes. “I have to go now.” Bokuto threw some money on the table to cover for his expenses and then he was gone before Kenma could even blink.

Kenma proceeded to have a minor panic attack.

He really just confessed that in front of Kuroo’s best fucking friend. The same friend who was always around whenever he shot down Kuroo’s advances.

On a scale from one to ten, how fucked was he?

Lev actually tried to be helpful for once. That was like… over the moon and beyond. The Russian student looked around nervously, patting Kenma’s stiff shoulders. “You better leave. Right now. Otherwise, sorry to say this, you’re fucked.”

He was unsure what Haiba meant by that. All Kenma knew was that he was freaking out on a scale he’d never thought he’d ever be capable of. He’d never been very expressive, but the horror must have been apparent on his face.

Shouyou. He needed to find Shouyou. His friend would tell him that it was alright, he’d smile and laugh it away, make this anxiety disappear.

Kenma shot up from his chair at the speed of light, glad that he'd paid for his booze in advance. The music came back full force when he was lost among the glowing bodies swaying to the beat, grinding against each other. It was very suffocating and Kenma wanted nothing more than to die or maybe pass out as he desperately searched for the familiar fluff of orange, someone wearing a plain white shirt, someone with greens and yellows and oranges drawn on their face. It was dark, he could barely make out anything or anyone for that matter,  and he was about to give up, but then-

He saw that one person that he did not want to see at this very moment.

A short distance ahead of him stood Kuroo Tetsurou, the left side of his face glowing in bright colors, the patterns almost mirroring Kenma’s own, something that really did look like a flower when you looked at it from the right angle. He made Kenma stop dead in tracks, and so, he was now left standing very still among the people who were dancing all around him, screaming and jumping. Kuroo was laughing, honestly laughing at something, and thu-thump went Kenma’s poor heart but his stomach churned violently when he noticed that Bokuto was with him, cracking up at something too. Probably at Kenma, they had to be laughing at him, making jokes about his stupid life choices.

Poor little introverted nerd who actually fell for Kuroo’s vixen smiles.

Just leave already, his mind screamed at him, frustrated that the body wasn’t cooperating. Go home and continue living under a rock. It’s what suits you the best.

He shouldn’t have come here. He shouldn’t even be here, pushed to the sides by the masses as he hopelessly stared at his big dumb crush. Shouyou had ditched him, his mouth had betrayed him, and now, oh god, Kuroo was looking his way.

Even in this dimness, he could make out Kuroo’s black, mesmerizing eyes staring right at him, widening slightly as though he'd actually recognized Kenma which wasn’t very likely. He then quickly apologized to some girl and excused himself. Or so it seemed, because Kenma still couldn’t hear anything other than the thumping music and the loud beat of his heart, and he felt like placing his palms against his ears just to make it all stop. He was shivering like a kitten dumped outside in the middle of a downpour, throat painfully dry, heartbeat picking up when he saw Kuroo taking a step in his general direction and then another.

The song that was playing had a dip in it and Kenma closed his eyes, fully knowing what would happen next, a plan already formed in the back of his panicking mind. He knew the song by heart because a part of him felt obliged to check it out when he'd first heard it. It happened during September if Kenma wasn’t mistaken. The sun still retained its dwindling summer’s heat and the nature was still green. After his class had ended, Kenma decided to visit the café to grab a bite. As he walked by Kuroo and Bokuto’s usual hangout spot where they'd been sitting around every day of the week - an old wooden table with stools that stood right in the shade of the tall trees, occupied by its unofficial owners and five others - Kenma'd heard this song blasting from Kuroo’s phone at high volume. Kenma went on ahead and past them, firmly ignoring the flirty smile that Kuroo had directed his way, and tried to memorize some of the lyrics. Being the ‘not creepy at all’ guy that he was, he looked them up, hoping to find the song. Once he had and gave it a proper listening to, Kenma found out that he actually enjoyed it. He ended up playing it on repeat while he did his coursework that night.

Kenma did not dare open his eyes, too afraid to see the shrinking distance between them.

The sudden bursts of strobe lights were blinding underneath his burning eyelids. When the beat picked up, Kenma took advantage of the lighting effects and the crowd freaking out to make a run for it, not bothering to look back.

Screw this, he was going back home. He’d take a shower first, get this damn paint off, send an angry text to Shouyou and bury himself under ten blankets. Perhaps throw up for good measure too. His stomach was feeling worse and worse with every second.

He scrubbed at the paint only smudging it a little. The back of his hand was now coated in a pasty peach-coloured glowing substance. Great, just what he needed. He didn’t want to wipe it on his clothes.

Everything was stupid.

And then someone’s fingers wrapped around his elbow. Panicked, Kenma was ready to let his reflexes loose and punch the person who'd done it, alarms going off in his mind. It couldn’t have been anyone other than Kuroo so he was surprised when he came face to face with the same orange-haired boy for whom he'd been searching for. He must've  melted a little like an ice cube and his legs started trembling. Shouyou seemed at least somewhat back to normal. The water and the dancing must've done the trick and that was good, that was great, because right now Kenma craved normalcy.

“What’s wrong?” Shouyou’s dopey smile fell once he saw the frightened look on Kenma’s face. “Did anything weird happen while I was gone?”

Don’t get emotional now, idiot.

God damn it to hell.

With violently shaking palms, he gripped at Shouyou’s wrists - a gesture indicating that he truly was not okay. Kenma always did that whenever he didn’t want to talk about his experiences until he calmed down completely. The anger that he had felt when Hinata ditched him went away like it wasn’t even there to begin with.

This time his best friend wasn’t swayed by anything, not even the fact that Kenma's lower lip was twitching. This was bad. “I won’t understand unless you tell me,” he said, strangely serious.

“Please don’t make me,” Kenma groaned tiredly, his voice strained.

And in the end he still let Shouyou lead him away.

“So that’s how it went, huh,” his best friend sighed, eyes fixed on the screen of his phone. Apparently, Kageyama had left with Sawamura, dragging a passed out Yamaguchi right after Kenma’s minor freak-out.

“I couldn’t leave just like that. Not after I came to get you and Suga-san told me what happened. He said that you looked terrible.”

Kenma curled into himself even more, cheeks reddening, picking at the laces of his converse shoes.

The two of them were leaning against the wall of a tiny hallway that led into the bathrooms. It was relatively quiet there if not for the disturbing sexual sounds. Comfortable too, because now Kenma didn’t have to deal with right about anyone. The occasional flocks of girls completely overlooked the duo, busily chatting amongst themselves about… things.

His legs were shaking and weak to the point he couldn’t stand well, much like Shouyou who still had to heavily lean against the wall for support. They talked about what happened after they went their separate ways. Shouyou had admitted that Kenma’s evening was far more impressive and at the same time more horrible than his, but the pink color dusting his cheekbones spoke a different story altogether.

“Well, I did get my dance,” Hinata said, his eyes averting from Kenma’s slowly widening ones. He slid down the wall and sat down too, stretching out his legs before him, feet touching the opposite wall. “I’m not sure if that went well.”

“Do you like him?” Kenma whispered quietly. It was meant to stay inside his mind, unvoiced, just a passing thought that maybe this… thing between his friends was turning into something. Nothing stayed as it should that night. His concept of normalcy was slowly slipping out of his grasp.

His friend hit his head against the wall with a dull thud, silently groaning at the pain the action caused. “I don’t know. Maybe…?” Hinata rubbed at the back of his neck, eyes closed. “Suga-san said so, too. He’s the only one who knows, well… knew.”

“I think he likes you, though.”

Shouyou actually snorted and stared at Kenma in shock. “No way. He’s as straight as they come. W-why would he even pay attention to me?”

“Don’t overthink, it sounds too complicated,” the blond sighed and tapped his friend’s thigh. “In fact, don’t think at all. That’s so unlike you.”

“Yeah, that’s true.” Even to his ears, Shouyou’s laugh sounded strained.

Silence stretched between them and Hinata despised that, while Kenma seemed perfectly content, tracing the black and white walls with old-fashioned patterns printed on them. It calmed him down, and the sound of faucets running made him sleepy while the occasional suspicious noises jolted him into awareness. His best friend took it upon himself to ruin the moment of fake peace and security. “So are you going to approach Kuroo?”

Kenma would've laughed at that suggestion if he weren’t so distressed and impassive in general. “Now why would I do something like that?”

The hallway was empty so his orange-haired friend crawled in front of him, placing both palms on the bent knees. “You don’t have anything to lose, so why not?”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“That’s a wonderful idea!”

“Shouyou, it’s really no-“

Hinata slapped his knees a few times. It actually hurt. Kenma complained but his protests died down when he saw the look on his face. Determined. Harsh. Hopeful. “Don’t do that. You need to get over it, okay? Bokuto-san probably said something already and you told me that he'd actually noticed you, so - why not? Go… bump into him or something, I don’t know. Because if you don’t want to do anything, then it’s better to give up - but don’t, okay, because I know that you can do it. I believe in you, Kenma, and I have a feeling that it will end well, so just—do something about it. Don’t sit here! Why are we even sitting here?” As if he'd just noticed it, Hinata looked around. “We shouldn’t even be here, you need to get out there and go for it.”

“I really can’t…”

“Don’t say stuff like ‘can’t’ or ‘won’t’ until you try. Because you can and you will!”

“No, Shouyou, you don’t understand.” Kenma shook him off and stood up on jelly-like legs, trying to look at least a little intimidating. “There’s no way I can just ‘bump into him’. I can’t do that because he’s… he’s…”

He’s too good for someone like me.

Holy fuck.

Was that the true reason why he'd been holding back so much? Maybe Kuroo was never the problem to begin with, his escapades weren’t the reason. It was him, it was Kenma all along, loner Kenma with friends who didn’t even like him, a guy who preferred to be alone, whereas Kuroo was everywhere at the same time, bright and communicative, well-liked and understanding.

Falling for an image that may or may not even be true was the worst, it was terrible, it was—

“I… I don’t feel so good,” Kenma wheezed, back pressing against the wall. His stomach squeezed painfully and he almost gagged.

“Breathe,” Shouyou whispered and clapped down on his shoulders. “Look, I really don’t want to do this. I really shouldn’t, oh my god you’re going to hate me, but this is for your own good—shit, I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore…” he trailed off his gibberish and slowly guided Kenma out of there, back into the jungle of bodies.

“What are you…?” Kenma had a really bad feeling about this.

Hinata smiled in a strained way. “Nothing, it’s fine I just—“ he stood on his tip-toes, looking around. “Oh, there we go.” He carefully turned Kenma’s head to the side.

No.

How'd he even manage to locate that guy in such a cramped space, he’ll never understand. It must have been one of the great mysteries of the world. Kuroo’s paint was bright, his lazy smile was even brighter, while some girls tried to take a selfie with him and Bokuto tried to wreck it via photobombing. Kuroo grabbed his best friend and then trapped him in a headlock, messing up his styled hair while Bokuto discreetly raised one arm up and waved. Waved at Shouyou.

It all came together.

“Shouyou, you did not… oh my god no, he was the one… I’m not doing this, bye.” Kenma swatted his prying hands away. “I’m serious. Whatever you've planned, forget it. He won’t even look at me, nope, bye.” He turned around, ready to run if he had to, just get the hell out of this nightmare club and forget it existed to begin with. It took a single sentence that had slipped from his best friend’s mouth to turn him into a stone statue with a living, beating heart.

“You think that he doesn’t notice or even look, but he’s doing it right now. You never see because you always turn away.”

And he was, Kuroo really was looking, and Kenma… well, he always ran. He didn’t know how to deal with these feelings, never had to deal with them before, never on this scale. Not until the day he saw that guy with his dumb hair and stupid smirks and eyes that looked ridiculously tender whenever he actually caught Kenma staring.

A menace. A heartthrob.

“Shouyou, I hate you,” Kenma winced, but didn’t mean it and his friend knew it as well when he pulled him along and then energetically waved at Bokuto, a huge grin plastered on his face.

“You can hate me all you want later!” he shouted over the music and Kenma wanted to laugh at the irony because while Hinata noticed the feelings of others, he himself was dense as a rock, did not see Kageyama staring with those, dare he say, loving eyes.

The distance wasn’t that big but it felt as though getting there took them years with Kenma’s legs feeling like lead and heart beating in the back of his throat, but he didn’t run. Not anymore, not when Kuroo was looking right at him, gaze unwavering.

Everything around him disappeared - the sounds, the music, the laughing faces of Hinata and Bokuto as the taller one ruffled his orange hair affectionately, the people who eyed him suspiciously because Kuroo was no longer paying them any attention, it was all for Kenma and Kenma alone. It was all gone.

His stupid crush smiled in that stupid idiotic way that made Kenma’s knees weak. His eyes reflected the greens and yellows and oranges on his face, the exact same pattern -god damn that Yachi girl, she did this on purpose - and oh wow, was Kuroo always so tall?

Bokuto smiled in a supposedly knowing way, but Kenma didn’t notice it, too mesmerized to actually look away, still lost in his own overheating mind. Together with Bokuto, Hinata slapped his best friend's back, slightly pushing him towards Kuroo. It was enough to make Kenma lose what little balance he had left and with an ‘oof’ he fell against his crush.

It lasted one second or perhaps hours. It felt nice - the material of Kuroo's shirt against his cheek, the scent that he knew so well actually calmed Kenma down instead of adding to his wrecked nerves - and this had to be a dream because what the hell was this evening even.

Kuroo’s fingers wrapped around Kenma's shoulders and he lightly pushed  – no no no, don’t do that, are you seriously going to reject me after all the shit I’ve been through - but only to balance him, voice low against his ear.

Was it normal to shiver when you heard voices? Well it was now, Kenma thought.

“Are you okay there, café-boy?” he teased, and from the corner of his eyes Kenma noticed that he was grinning.

Kuroo actually remembered him, he really did, and holy shit, it was in all of the wrong and the most shameful ways imaginable. Was that meant to insult him? “Y-You remember m-me?” Kenma tried to find his true voice but it sounded something close to a toad's croak. There was no one there to guide him because once he looked around, Kenma noticed that Shouyou and Bokuto were gone. The girls had scattered too, leaving the two alone in their own little world.

Kuroo’s laughter echoed against the side of his face, rich and tinged with promises. He felt his breath brush against his cheek and Kenma squeezed his eyes shut because oh no this is bad, this is very bad. “’Course I do. It’s kind of hard to forget someone who spilled boiling tea all over the front of my shirt. “

With a thump, Kenma’s forehead hit one of his broad shoulders but Kuroo didn’t seem to mind at all. What was he even supposed to say to that? What were they talking about again? “Uh… sorry.”

“S’fine.” Kuroo stood up at his full height - oh man, the height difference really was so much bigger now that they were almost pressed together. “You could've at least given me your phone number as an apology. Or agreed to have coffee with me, or — a lot of things, actually, “ the black-haired man didn’t look like he was blaming Kenma and the blond couldn’t even tell if he was being serious or not. So that’s what people meant by the whole 'hard to figure out' personality thing. The grin was still on Kuroo's face and he actually winked at him. That one went right through Kenma’s coughing and sneezing heart. “You can always make it up to me, y’know.”

Kenma nervously worried at his lower lip. Kuroo’s face was only a few millimeters away from his once again, those dark eyes gleaming mischievously. He was obviously going to ask for that and once he did it was going to break Kenma completely because Kuroo would prove himself to be a sexual deviant who only cared about getting into everyone’s pants. “You can always…” he trailed off and Kenma almost exploded from all that tension.

“Hmm, well you can dance with me and then we'll be even.”

What.

Kenma’s heart detonated into a million pieces and his eyes widened. Was this even normal? Wasn’t Kuroo going to… well. Ask for him to… yeah.

His brain died and Kuroo carried on like it was natural - or maybe it truly was natural for him, Kenma wasn’t too sure. “The song’s pretty good and if I ask someone else you might run off before I can notice it. That’s a bad habit, you should work on it.”

Kenma was too busy stunned speechless to reply. He swore that this had to be a dream because there was no fucking way that the rumored Kuroo was anything like this person who talked like any normal human being and didn’t ask for 'certain favors' every three sentences. It was possible that it went like that all the time, he charmed you with the normalcy and once you were comfortable enough around him, he’d change completely and go in for the kill. He lulled you with this fake sense of security until you let your guard down and Kenma cursed himself because it was working like a miracle.

He had to shake his head because this was Kuroo, the real Kuroo, not the rumored façade everyone entertained. He was just like Shouyou or Inuoka or— everyone really, and not some siren luring unsuspecting sailors into their deaths.

Kenma didn’t say anything, only took Kuroo’s waiting hand. The latter slid his fingers through the spaces of Kenma’s bony ones, filling them perfectly, their palms pressed together and it was the best feeling ever. It made Kenma’s heart flutter.

The dancing was a fucking tragedy.

Or so Kenma thought anyways, because he didn’t know how to do it and Kuroo was pretty decent. Quite good, actually. He tried to mimic some moves but sometimes it was way too awkward and Kuroo laughed at him, but Kenma laughed along because he knew that he looked stupid. It felt natural and he didn’t try to hide it or contain it somehow, despite the fact that he’d always wanted to seem emotionless. Emotionless people weren’t affected or hurt easily, you could never quite tell what they were thinking and Kenma had always wanted to master that, feeling that it'd provide him some sense of security, a shield against the harsh nature of the world, of sorts.

“Not bad,” Kuroo snickered when the trashy song faded and was changed by new one. “You need to make use of your hips though, don’t be so stiff.”

Kenma felt brave and idiotic enough to stand on his tiptoes and whisper into Kuroo’s ear. “If you think you’re that good, why don’t you just teach me?”

Kuroo looked at him with that mysterious shine in his eyes. He placed his palms against Kenma’s slim hips and slowly turned him around. The blond’s breath hitched once he felt Kuroo’s front press against his back. He could feel the solid wall of muscle, every line and curve, even through the layers he was wearing. He tensed up and Kuroo must have felt it as well, because he ordered against his ear. “No, no, you gotta relax, “ he thumbed Kenma’s hipbones as if to calm him. It kind of worked. “You need to listen and then move to the beat without overdoing it.” Kenma closed his amber eyes trying to listen carefully but Kuroo was way too distracting, the fact that he was being held by his crush taking up all of the free space left in his short-circuiting mind. “Once you figure out the rhythm you start moving. Like this…” he trailed off in a strangely airy tone, and Kenma just went with the flow, followed Kuroo’s pace, enjoying the feeling of light swaying.

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed. After a while he felt Kuroo’s nose lightly press against the top of his head, the hot air ruffling his grown out roots. Kenma leaned back against him fully and the movement gave Kuroo a chance to pull him in closer.

Kenma thought that right now he could add one more thing to the list of things that made him feel pure bliss and calmness, but then remembered that this meant nothing. He still didn’t know what would happen and he needed to make sure, he needed to be certain that this Kuroo wasn’t a cruel joke. He stared at the glow of peach colours on Kuroo’s forearms and gripped them weakly, fingers messing up the paint. His stomach twisted violently. He noticed that it kept on getting worse ever since they first got into this position.

“Why me?” Kenma asked, head tilted upwards, resting against Kuroo’s shoulder. For a moment he thought that he wasn't heard but then Kuroo actually smiled, a warm and most importantly honest smile, and he whispered just as silently as Kenma did.

“I caught you staring a lot.”

“I-I wasn’t,” he defended himself. His stomach felt like someone had played football and used it as a ball.

“Oho ho?” The kind smile turned into a shit-eating grin. “Are you sure?”

“P-Positive.”

“So you don’t really like me?” That grin never faltered. It was confusing.

“I… I wasn’t staring,” Kenma tried to avoid answering with all he had and moved away from the other, turning around.

“Because you hate me so much,” Kuroo winked and suddenly Kenma felt really really bad.

Physically.

Butterflies in the stomach or whatever dumb metaphors they used to describe the feeling were one thing, but this... this was something else entirely.

“Kuroo, you’re a menace t-to the humanity!” he hiccuped and Kuroo watched him, obviously amused. “And I really think that y-you need to stop s-screwing everyone.”

His grin faltered for a short moment. “So why don’t you go on ahead and stop me, café-boy?” It was back before Kenma knew it, but it seemed fake now. It was that same leer that Kuroo had pulled whenever he tried to woo someone and Kenma did not like it, not one bit.

“It’s Kenma. Kenma Kozume, “ he introduced himself, swaying on his heels. “And you need to be stopped, Kuroo, because I, I—don’t... l-like it and I... really want y—“

His heart was ready to burst out through his throat, beating like crazy. He was about to tell Kuroo that he had an enormous crush on him which could be seen from space but he needed to get rid of that uncomfortable sensation first.

He opened his mouth and attempted to cough out his dumb heart — since when did it get there? — but all that came out was his stomach content, namely the alcoholic poison he’d been consuming in god-awful quantities the entire night.

Kuroo jumped back, startled and grossed out, while Kenma coughed his ‘heart’ out.

That went to shit incredibly fast, was his last thought as the world tilted and went black, drowning out the disgusted noises of people and the thumping of the bass.

The light burned his eyes and he felt something being poured down his parched throat. He firmly spat it out, certain that it was more alcohol. Yamamoto was probably holding him down, forcing it down his throat.

“Please, no more-“ he gagged, not willing to open his eyes.

“Feh. Don’t be such a baby, Kenma, c’mon.”

Shit.

His eyes flew open in a second.

His retinas stung like a bitch, pupils contracting, but Kenma didn’t do anything about it. He wasn’t back home in his bed, in fact, he was sitting on the cold, tiled floor or so it seemed, back pressed against an equally chilly wall. He looked around, unfocused. Some fluffed up thing obscured his field of vision and stopped the intruding rays of white fluorescent lamps above. It looked like some kind of bird? A crow? Maybe a penguin?

Was he finally in Antarctica?

It made it easier to see and at last the blurry image came together. Kuroo Tetsurou was right in front of him - on his knees, shirt gone, a bottle of… something that tasted like water held in his hand.

Oh. Oh right. Damn. Kenma really looked forward to seeing those penguins and living as one of them. It was just Kuroo's hair.

So that must have been his answer.

“Kenma, yo—“

The blond closed his eyes, rolling his head to the sides. “Are you going to have sex with me now?”

It was all very quiet except for the annoying buzzing of the lights when the room exploded in echoes. They sounded suspiciously like unrestrained laughter.

“Damn, this kid is gold! Pfff—“

Kuroo growled like an enraged dog, a sound that went through Kenma’s body like an electric shock. “Quit laughing, fucker. Make yourself useful and give me your damn shirt or better yet, go home and bring me one.”

“Oh noooo, I’m not into that,” Kenma mumbled, only half awake. Sleep. He needed sleep. “Threesomes aren’t really—“

He didn’t even get to finish the sentence when the laughter turned into straight up howling. He opened one eye and saw an enraged Kuroo, his cheeks slightly red. His eyebrow was twitching.

“O-oh shit… h... hahaha...ha, film this, do it!”

“Get out!” Kuroo roared again and threw something in the general direction of the …people? that were gathered there. The cackling faded once the door shut close. “Dumbasses. And you! I hope you’re not doing this on purpose,” he poked Kenma’s arm. The blond whined, rubbing the aching spot.

He unashamedly looked Kuroo over. He had to take what he could get while it lasted. “So are you going to have sex with me now?” he repeated.

Kuroo stared at him with wide eyes, jaw slack. For once, he was the one left speechless and not Kenma. “I’m not going to have sex with you,” his voice was firm, deadpan even.

That was weird. Was Kenma really that unattractive?

“You don’t want to?” he slurred, dejected.

“I can’t fucking believe this—I do, I mean, it’s just that—“ Kuroo groaned and messed up his hair up even further. The black strands seemed soft to the touch. Maybe he should reach out and make sure…? But he was too sick to speak, not to mention move. The paint had been wiped off Kuroo’s face. Kenma’s stomach gurgled noisily as Kuroo eyed him warily. “No no no, don’t you throw up on me again, there’s a stall right next to y—“

Kenma pressed both of his palms against his mouth to keep it down and stood up but his legs were far too weak for that task. Immediately, Kuroo scooped him up into his arms, lifting him with ease. “Wait wait wait,“ he chanted nervously but alas they didn’t make it.

A loud ‘shit!’ resounded through the bathroom of the club and the tiny hallway.

Nobody saw Kuroo Tetsurou for the rest of the night.

Chapter Text

Now, as he'd mentioned it plenty of times before to the point it must have been annoying, he wasn’t much of a party person. Kenma had never had a drinking problem and therefore that was the only reason why he never knew what it felt like to be a hangover. That state of complete inebriation seemed so alien that it was pretty much located on Jupiter; it was something that had only existed in the stories of his friends and the world of fiction. Headaches, wrecked stomach, eye sensitivity, Kenma knew what those were, but he'd never imagined that he would ever experience them while completely healthy.

It was worse than anything he’d ever encountered before and Kenma did get sick quite often. It was his own fault for consuming junk food in ungodly quantities - but only that.

The second he woke up, Kenma immediately wanted to pass out. The headache felt as though someone had cracked open his head with a sledgehammer and then shoved a pole inside his brain. It made him feel sick and his tender stomach tingled in all the wrong, nauseous ways. For a while, Kenma didn’t dare to open his eyes. He noticed that the room was considerably bright despite having his eyelids tightly squeezed shut. There was nothing more that he wanted than to curl up and die. That, or go to the nearest bathroom and empty his upset stomach until he hopefully passed out again. At least, he wouldn’t have to think about this pain if he were to fall asleep.

He tried to do just that, but despite Kenma's best efforts, his mind refused to shut down. Tossing around in bed was absolutely out of question and no matter how much he carefully changed positions, he couldn’t get comfortable. Since when was his mattress like that, so unnaturally… hard?

Since when did they have a window over there?

Since when were his sheets black instead of pale yellow? Did they always smell like… spilled coffee, window detergent and nature?

It took Kenma a while to realize that it wasn't, in fact, his own bed, and the moment he did, Kenma quickly sat up, the mountain of sheets that had been placed over his unconscious body flying to the sides. Kenma was nearly drowning in them, but he didn’t care, the pounding headache making him unfocused.

The shirt he'd been wearing – definitely not his and most certainly not Inuoka’s - slipped down a pale shoulder as Kenma took in his surroundings.

A plain room with a lack of personality to it, sparsely furnished and a little messy. Textbooks and papers, undeniably coursework, covered a small table by the bed.

A room that belonged to a student who didn’t get enough sleep, if the faint scent of coffee was anything to go by.

And that was the biggest mystery of all.

Kenma didn’t have a single clue as to where he was, how he got there, whose room it was and what had happened the night before.

After at least thirty minutes – actually, twenty-seven if the mechanical clock placed on the table was showing the correct time - of panicking and fighting back the overwhelmingly intense urge to slap his own face due to frustration, trying to recollect what happened before and after Yamaguchi had roped him into playing that dumb drinking game, Kenma started remembering some bits and pieces of his fucked up evening. They weren’t clear memories, per se - the faces were strangely unfamiliar and he couldn’t remember to whom they belonged to. Kenma was certain that trying to remember good dreams was less difficult than this.

He vaguely remembered Tanaka’s face with that dick scribbled on it, Yamaguchi falling asleep, someone tall clinging to him, someone really annoying. Lev, most likely. He didn’t know many tall, light-haired assholes.

Kenma knew that he had been incredibly annoyed and it had nothing to do with his personal space being invaded, it was something else. It involved a person, a question and a burning sensation in his throat.

He closed his eyes, trying to fight back the throbbing ache that just wouldn’t leave no matter what, piecing together the puzzling breadcrumbs of information that he had. The scent of the room was oddly familiar, Kenma belatedly realized, and it belonged to someone he'd been very close to last night - it was all over him, all around him, refreshing and strangely homely. He tenderly pressed his palms over his sensitive eyes to chase away what little light had managed to infiltrate under his eyelids when a dull clang of metal hitting ground reached his ears. Instantly, Kenma covered them, the sound making his head ring like a church bell, and for the first time, he'd actually noticed that there was someone outside of the room. He winced when another loud clatter resounded.

The people on the other side of the door were either whispering or the room had thick walls because Kenma couldn’t make out anything. After a strange, squeaky sound escaped from his mouth, the ruckus outside momentarily ceased altogether.

“Did you hear that?” someone asked and Kenma almost choked. He knew that voice far too well.

“I did hear the sound of the pan hitting the floor because apparently you can’t handle it. Thanks for the unnecessary noise, by the way, I feel so much better.” Kenma had to strain his ears to hear it. This sarcastic voice seemed strangely familiar, but the words weren't spoken in that specific cocky tone that Kenma was used to. It seemed a little too… strained.

“Good morning to you too, little ray of sunshine! I see that someone had a rowdy night, isn’t that right, Solia?” Kuroo Tetsurou chirped in a sing-song voice. Kenma slowly started burying himself back under the pile of blankets. “Now that you’re fully awake and pissy as usual, tell me – what can I do today to help you with your hangover?

He was coldly ignored. “Don’t call me that, asshole.“

“Sure sure, Tsukki, as you wish. You should be glad that I’m doing you favors like this. Favors,” he repeated as if to annoy the man further. More clanging sounds. “I’m this kind. Now reel back the attitude, sunshine.”

Tsukki? As in Tsukishima? What was he doing here? Didn’t he usually avoid Kuroo whenever the black-haired man approached to bother him…?

“Don’t call me that either-“

“Alright, shut your trap and tell me how you’d prefer your eggs today,” there was a beat of silence and Kenma could almost visualize Kuroo’s cheeky grin when he paused and repeated himself. “Tsukki.”

He dragged the nickname out, rolling it on the tip of his tongue like a piece of chocolate candy, enjoying the unbridled annoyance apparent in Tsukishima’s reaction. For some reason, Kenma felt a little uneasy when the tall blond merely sighed in defeat, accepting it. Wasn’t the nickname reserved for Yamaguchi only? “I hate you,” he said, spitefully.

“That’s cute.”

“…no onions.”

Someone laughed. Kuroo snickered. “Now, that wasn’t too hard, was it? Coming right up.”

“Man, you got him wrapped around your finger.” It had to be Sawamura. Kenma heard that voice plenty of times before to know it. He could tell apart all of Shouyou’s friends’ voices, from the pitch to the manner of speaking. Daichi sounded a little like Kenma’s dad, kind of fatherly and so unlike, for example, Tanaka and his delinquent drawl or Sugawara, whose voice sounded like the wind in meadows, calm and soft-spoken.

Tsukishima grunted something inaudible, but didn’t dare to talk back against Daichi. Not many people were brave enough to do that. Arguing with the older man inevitably led to getting on his bad side and that was the absolute worst thing imaginable.

“It’s not that hard,” Kuroo elaborated. The tip of Kenma’s nose that peeked through the gap in the pile of sheets caught the scent of bacon. It made his eyes water and he suddenly felt very cold as his crush continued, amused. “You just need to channel some of your inner charms to it and all’s well!”

Just what the hell had happened last night? Why was he in this room, why was he in Kuroo’s bed, under Kuroo’s sheets, Kuroo’s shirt hanging off his thin frame. Why was he subjected to this torture? Just what the hell he'd gotten himself into?

It had to be a trap. He should’ve taken Nishinoya’s and Tanaka’s jokes more seriously. Maybe gotten that mentioned ‘holy protection’ or whatever the hell. But first and foremost, he shouldn’t've had touched alcohol.

“That’s a very inspiring speech there, but don’t you think you’re forgetting something?” Tsukishima’s monotone voice cut off Kuroo’s proud ‘tales of when I wooed someone’.

“That’s right, you have a guest in your room!” Sawamura agreed. “Shouldn’t you check up on them? It’s nearly noon.”

“Shouldn’t you quit your pathetic attempts at flirtation while they're still in your room.” Tsukishima corrected.

It went really quiet, except for the faint sounds of food sizzling in the pan. Gingerly, Kenma pushed away the blankets and swung his legs over the edge, carefully standing up. Somehow, that action made him very happy. Did he have any problems with balance last night? His coordination was still off, though, probably because of his vision constantly blacking out.

Perhaps, it would've been wiser to stay in bed and pretend to sleep until the rest of the people evacuated the premises, but Kenma didn’t really feel like it. He tiptoed to the door to press his ear against it.

He could hear everything so much clearer now. “Yeah… I was thinking about it, too,” Kuroo answered and set something down on top of a solid surface. “Bon appetit, sunshine,” he chimed in a supposedly thick French accent. “Wow, Tsukki, have some table manners.”

“I don’t see you…” Tsukishima was already busy stuffing his face full of Kuroo's food. “Havin’ any.”

“That hurts, you know,” the black-haired man merely feigned hurt and carried on. “Someone kick this asshole awake. And pick him off the floor, it’s unsightly.”

Kenma felt his palms sweat. He couldn’t stand around by the door until Kuroo slammed it into his face, which would be way too awkward. Not that it wasn’t already because Kenma couldn’t remember anything. Someone whined, probably the person who was the one passed out. With a slippery grip, Kenma pushed the door open.

His determination wavered when three pairs of wide eyes turned his way, attracted by the movement. He might have pushed a little too forcefully and he might've tripped on his way out while doing so.

The staring made Kenma uncomfortable and he quickly averted his eyes, looking around. Five people were gathered inside a cramped kitchen, the one lying on the ground, as he'd had a nagging suspicion, was Lev. What was it with him and his strange love for face-planting on floors…?

As much as Kenma tried not to stare at Kuroo - who stood by the counter with a plain red t-shirt and dark blue sweatpants on, a black apron tied around his hips - it was inevitable for their eyes to meet.

Kenma’s back went rigid and he felt as though this had happened before. People faded into the background while his crush showered him with attention - oh how little of it Kenma needed. It seemed so familiar to the point this nagging feeling turned into a severe case of dejavu. Kuroo turned a little to face Kenma better, one hand wrapped around a wooden spatula and the other around the handle of a saucepan with hot greasy food inside – Kenma knew that grease was amazing for curing terrible hangovers but the rancid smell still made him nauseous – and smiled broadly. Kenma’s heart did the thing that he'd dubbed as ‘the thing’, as Kenma tried hard not to ogle Kuroo’s natural bedhead too much or anything else Kuroo-related. Just no. Eyes, control yourselves, please, look… at the spatula or something. It was already weird.

“Oh my, the sleeping beauty has finally woken up,” Kuroo teased, but it didn’t have any bite to it. It seemed kind. Kenma’s face heated and someone choked. The blond hoped that it wasn’t him.

He wanted to tell his crush to shut the hell up, that there were people around, but his insides had turned to mush at the dumb nickname that had been thrown his way. Kuroo continued speaking, not noticing Kenma’s discomfort. Hopefully. “I thought that I would have to wake you. You don’t seem like a morning person, but it’s already kind of late… I don’t really mind, though, if you stay for longer that is-“ with wide eyes, Kenma watched as Kuroo’s face colored a bright pink hue and he placed the pan back on the stove. “I mean-“ his gaze averted from Kenma. The latter was certain that he'd heard a snort come from the table. Kuroo messed his hair even further, making it stand up completely.

He seemed strangely… awkward? Even more awkward than Kenma, and he was the one standing with a bag of a shirt on, in a kitchen full of hungover guys, with only his boxers on.

Kuroo’s eyes darted to the side. “So yeah, uh, in case you’re hungry, take a seat and- well, if you want to, you can go back to sleep. I-if that’s what you want,“ he repeated himself twice. Now someone really did choke on their food, and from the sound of it, Kenma figured that it was Tsukishima. The guy snickered silently as Daichi feigned a coughing fit. “Uh, anyways, morning!“ Kuroo glared their way and mindlessly raised the spatula to scratch at his cheek.

The small kitchen exploded in peels of obnoxious laughter as Tsukishima banged at the table to contain it and Sawamura covered his face due to the intense secondhand embarrassment. Kenma bit his lower lip and tried not to smile as Kuroo suddenly realized what he was doing. Ashamed, he pulled it away. The smudge of oil was still glistening on the side of his face.

Kenma bit the inside of his cheek.

He was kind of cute.

“Shut up!“

“You moron! Incredible.” Tsukishima wiped at the stray tears that had escaped his eyes. “Wow, Kuroo Tetsurou, everybody. Tell me your secrets of smooth talking, I am dying to know. “

Kuroo opened his mouth to retort when the last occupant of the table, Bokuto, who was snoozing away not minding the ruckus around him, tilted and fell face-forward into a plate of food placed before him. In a chain reaction, the sudden rattle of the plate startled Lev out of his deep slumber. He let out an inaudible squeak as the top of his head collided with the underside of the table. It had gone very quiet with the exception of Lev’s pained whines, as they stared Bokuto’s way, hoping to get any sort of reaction. They didn’t. Bokuto kept on snoring, peaceful as ever. Kuroo’s eyebrow twitched as he raised the spatula like a sword.

“Don’t sleep on my food, asshole!” he roared and smashed the flat end of it right into his sleeping roommate’s head.

“OW!” Bokuto yelped as his head flew up, pieces of omelet stuck to his face. He furiously rubbed at the ache and stuck out his tongue at Kuroo who tried to control the urge to smack him one more time. “Find a better way to wake someone up! Geez! One day you’re gonna split my head open,” he complained and picked off some of the food bits, chewing thoughtfully. “S’good, but it needs more pepper,” Bokuto reported, licking bacon grease off his thumb.

“Your head’s already like a block and there’s literally no brain to be damaged, so I don’t see why,” Tsukishima lashed out and resumed eating, no longer entertained.

“If you had at least a single bit of decency to not do this every single day, we wouldn’t be having this problem,” Kuroo hissed.

“Does it look like he has any?” A wolfish grin tugged at Tsukishima’s lips after he swallowed down another bite.

Bokuto’s head snapped the tall blond’s way. “Tsukki, stop encouraging him, that’s just mean.”

“I’m merely stating the obvious.”

“No, you’re being an asshole,” Bokuto summoned tissues out of thin air to wipe at his face, scrubbing with fervor that made the skin turn red.

The sneer disappeared as Tsukishima clicked his tongue and took a sip of lemon tea, cringing at the taste. “This is gross.”

“If you want to feel better, drink some,” Sawamura, who'd been calmly chewing his food while observing their exchanges with a bored look on his face, finally spoke up, fatherly instincts calling. He seemed used to the groups’ antics.

Without a word, Tsukishima obeyed, as Kuroo and Bokuto kept bantering.

“Who gave you a spatula!? It’s a potential weapon!”

“You did, now eat the damn food and quit complaining. Don’t make me use it on you. Again.”

“Oho? You wanna fight?”

“Oho ho, maybe-“

Kenma never heard what the ‘maybe’ was because Lev chose that exact moment to finally pop his tousled head from under the table. His green eyes comically widened once they fell on the small blond. “Kenma-san! What-“

He then slowly turned Kuroo’s way - oh thank god - and then back to Kenma. Damn it. “Oh. Ohh.” Lev blinked rapidly as he pieced everything together. False info. “Oh no, Yaku-san’s going to kill you,” he directed Kuroo’s way, voice a fearful hiss.

At that very moment, there was nothing more that Kenma had wanted than to die where he stood, trying to control the sudden urge to pull his shirt to cover his face. No head Kenma. Yes, perfect.

Bokuto choked on some veggies. Kuroo had somehow managed to spoon them into his mouth while they were wrestling. As though Bokuto just noticed the arrival of their awkward sixth party, he quickly composed himself, a grin stretching his face. “Whyyyy hello there!” Bokuto’s voice dropped a little as he winked. Kuroo’s lips almost disappeared from being pressed too tight. Sawamura seemed more on guard than before. “How’s your-“

Kuroo brought the wooden weapon back down on the unsuspecting man’s head again, this time with more force.

“What’s your problem, man! What did I do now?” Bokuto demanded, rather annoyed by the infinite abuse. Sawamura sighed, mumbling something that suspiciously sounded like ‘same shit, different day’.

Tsukishima snickered in a knowing way. “You’re making him jealous. He’s very worried, actually. You missed out on a lot of stuff.”

Bokuto leaned in as his interest was piqued. “Ohhh, you have my full attention now, Tsukki! Go on, what did I miss?”

“Tsukishima, not a word.” Kuroo threatened with the spatula almost cracking in his grip as his cheeks coloured with shame.

The smug blond leaned back in his seat, playing with the cord of his headphones, light brown eyes glued to Kuroo’s stormy gaze. He smirked in that unnerving way. He seemed confident in what he was doing. “Huuuh, why don’t you stop me then?”

“Is that a challenge?”

“Depends. If you’re confident enough.”

Suddenly, Kenma felt very very uncomfortable.

“Quit doing that and tell meeee,” Bokuto demanded in a high-pitched whine and even slapped the table a few times but was thoroughly ignored. In the background, Lev complained about something and then asked Kuroo about pancakes.

“What pancakes?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow, honestly confused, redirecting his attention. Thankfully, he cut eye contact with the bespectacled man, ending that strange tension that had been developing between the duo. It made Kenma feel a bit more at ease.

“You smudge your face with flour and oil when you make them. I want pancakes,” Lev pleaded.

“Oh, he was surely making pancakes alright,” Tsukishima cut in, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face.

“He was?”

“Aww, he was? Why didn’t you wake me up, I wanted some!”

“Tsukki,” Kuroo growled in warning.

“What? I wasn’t going to say anything about your awkward moment there.”

“What awkward moment?” Bokuto questioned again, not used to being ignored. “Seriously, what did I miss?”

Kenma felt that it was the right time to leave as he took a few steps back. Sawamura noticed and discreetly tugged at the end of his—Kuroo’s shirt. He cleared his throat to over-shout the sudden noise that made Kenma cringe. “Alright, cease this foolishness and let’s eat like normal people. We have a guest here.” He nodded Kenma’s way. “You can talk about stupid stuff after you’re done, alright?” it sounded like a command rather than a request as Sawamura glanced at Tsukishima, a stern expression twisting up his face.

“Yes yes, where are my manners,” Tsukishima said plainly, and rolled his eyes. “I’m very sorry.” He didn’t seem or sound ‘very sorry’ at all.

Bokuto almost vibrated from excitement, sending quick glances Kuroo’s way. “Hey hey, but you’ll tell me later, right?”

“Maybe.”

“Not fair, Tsukki!”

“Changed my mind, oops. I won’t tell you a thing.”

Sawamura heaved a sigh and turned Kenma’s way, his eyes full of sympathy. “Just… ignore them and take a seat.”

Kenma was about to answer that he suddenly wasn’t feeling very hungry and his stomach agreed to that thought, but Lev was up on his feet, walking around the table and guiding Kenma towards an empty seat between himself and Tsukishima. Kenma tried to pretend that he was invisible, but Kuroo’s eyes were burning holes into his face the entire time. Lev whispered not so silently. “Okay, this might sound really, really weird but are you seriously into Kuroo’s type? How did you even manage to get here?”

“I don’t know,” Kenma mumbled back silently and covered his face with his palms, not noticing Tsukishima’s strangely calculating gaze on him. "I just don't know."

This was confusing.

He didn’t talk unless it was absolutely necessary as he moodily picked at some food on Lev’s plate. It was unusual since the taller man never shared no matter what, and if he was doing that, it meant that even Lev noticed how fucked up Kenma’s current situation was. He stared at Kuroo who calmly ate his own share, occasionally glancing at Kenma all the while chatting up Sawamura. Bokuto’s loud voice grated against Kenma’s ears, but at least the bad fluttery feeling in his stomach had disappeared once he forced himself to swallow down some of the omelet.

It was quite good. Kuroo certainly knew how to cook, but it would have been even greater if his crush hadn’t poured so much oil on the pan. Kenma should’ve been glad, it wasn’t everyday that he could eat the food his crush made, but instead he felt strangely unsatisfied. More than half of it came from his ever-present confusion, but Kenma didn’t feel like causing a scene with all those people around, nor did he particularly want any explanations.

He mostly felt out of place - like a stranger intruding on a family dinner. He knew all of them, he even had Lev by his side, who constantly tried to cheer him up by telling him all about the funny things that had happened last night, but it only served to make Kenma feel worse - he had no recollection of those.

Kenma kept on being a wet blanket, eyes downcast, as he somewhat paid attention to the conversation taking place.

“…now I don’t know much about dancing myself, but you surely kicked ass! I’m so proud of ya, Tsukki!” Bokuto’s thunderous laughter echoed in the kitchen.

“…thanks?” the aforementioned man replied, unsure how to react to the sudden praise. He seemed strangely pleased, though, like his self-confidence got a fine boost. The bespectacled man sighed and clicked his tongue. “Damn that Yamaguchi, how could he pass out on me like that? It would've been a certain win.”

“I told him not to drink so much,” Sawamura spoke up and took a sip of the cooling coffee. “He should be up by now.”

“Still, I heard that he was drinking with someone—“ Tsukishima continued. Kenma was certain that he'd heard a note of concern lacing the taller one’s voice, but then felt his insides freezing up when he remembered.

Yamaguchi had been drinking with him. He was the one. Yamaguchi was the one who'd suggested that life-ruining game. Something went really wrong while they were playing it as well.

Kenma wasn’t sure if he should hate him or thank him for that.

“Oh that! He was with K—“ Lev began, but the short blond pinched his thigh to shut him up. Lev jumped up in his seat from sheer surprise and the sudden pain coursing down his leg, but thankfully, he belatedly understood what the other had meant by that action. “Uhm, K-Kiyoko and Yacchan! And Suga-san!” he cleared his throat, amending.

Those three names created even more mental images in Kenma’s tired mind. Yes, that seemed about right. Sugawara was the one with Tanaka when they played the game. He was… drinking a lot? What kind of game was it, exactly? Something about dares? No, that didn’t feel quite right.

The feeling of Lev pressed against his back and electric blue, electric blue-

Kenma slowly looked up and met Bokuto’s level gaze, mouth falling open. Kenma had seen it before - this strange look in particular, yesterday, at his seventh shot.

Never have I ever wanted to have sex with -

Kuroo Tetsurou.

Oh god.

Oh no.

It all came flooding back to him all at once - the feeling of panic, the fact that he'd confessed, the bathroom, Shouyou’s trick, dancing with Kuroo and then?

And then nothing.

He really did it. He had a one night stand with Kuroo Tetsurou, completely intoxicated and positively out of his mind. He had sex with his crush and he couldn’t remember a single thing!

Kenma's mood dampened even further as he suddenly became nauseous and it all felt oh so familiar. Kenma shot up from his seat and stared right at Kuroo, who seemed a bit startled by the sudden movement.

“Where’s the bathroom?” Kenma squeezed out and watched with hazy eyes as his crush jumped out of the seat at the same time Bokuto did, and ran up to him, almost tripping in his haste. Kenma pressed a palm against his mouth and closed his eyes. He felt himself being hoisted up into air, the black-haired man’s breathless voice whispering into his ear.

“Oh no, not this time!”

Kenma tried not to think too much about his loss of dignity. He’d think about that later.

Kuroo patiently waited for him outside. Once Kenma was done rinsing his mouth after throwing up at least four times he finally stumbled out of the bathroom. Kuroo wordlessly offered Kenma a glass of water which he gladly downed in a few big gulps, and tenderly wrapped his fingers around the exhausted boy’s wrist. Kenma reveled in the feeling of warmth and care as Kuroo led him back to his room and shut the door in front of Bokuto’s worried face.

In a strangely comfortable - yet slightly awkward from Kenma’s side - silence, the blond laid down on his crush’s bed, softly inhaling the faint scent lingering on the sheets. He curled up like a cat at the very edge and tried to get comfortable while Kuroo placed a few more blankets on him.

“It helps to sleep,” he explained once he saw Kenma eyeing him suspiciously. “You’ll relax sooner. Trust me, I hate this bed almost as much as you do, if not more. I’m the one stuck sleeping on it every night,” he laughed as Kenma nuzzled his cheek against the pillow, body slowly relaxing.

“Sorry,” he whispered silently after some time had passed. He kind of hoped that he wasn’t heard.

“Hm? For what? You didn’t do anything.” The bed dipped in as Kuroo took a seat beside him. Kenma risked a discreet glance upwards only to find those dark eyes full of tenderness staring at him. The sight made Kenma’s toes curl.

“I embarrassed you in front of your friends.”

“Not really. I’ve had way worse.”

“You probably want me to leave,” Kenma continued, the bliss slowly withering away. “I wasn’t a very good lay, was I? And now this… so yeah… sorry for the trouble.”

The black-haired man frowned as he pondered over Kenma’s strange words, eyes squinting. Slowly, he brought one hand to Kenma's face. He flinched back, fearing he might be hit, but Kuroo merely poked his forehead. “You’re an idiot,” he said, monotone. “Do you really think that lowly of me?”

It made Kenma’s heart sting. Well, he sort of believed in those stories, but that didn’t mean he regarded Kuroo as a horny slut and nothing else. He wasn’t like those people. Kuroo was kind and caring, his cooking skills were even better than Inuoka’s and— “I don’t.”

Did he seem relieved by this response? “Then why are you apologizing for something that never happened?”

Huh? Nothing… happened?

“Do you think I’m some sort of rapist or something?” Kuroo carried on. “No wait, don’t answer that, I forget with whom exactly you’re friends with.” He smiled, but it didn’t seem sad or dejected in any way.

“You expected me to say 'no' there, didn’t you?” the blond joked as his crush quirked an eyebrow. “I really don’t… think of you like that, honestly. But I don’t remember anything what happened last night, so some clarification would be nice. How'd I end up here?”

“Well… some things happened but I’m not entirely sure you want me to talk about that right now.” Kuroo scratched the back of his neck, his eyes avoiding Kenma’s curious ones. It made his suspicions rise. “Nothing sexual happened, though! It’s just… a bit embarrassing to think about. Still, I’ll tell you before any of them do. Get some sleep until then.” Kuroo lifted one of the blankets and tucked Kenma in. After he finished his task and made sure the shorter one was comfortable, he slowly stood up, standing on his tiptoes to stretch. Kenma tried not to stare at the way Kuroo’s spine moved, forming a graceful arch as his back flexed under that loose red shirt. Its material rose up to reveal a sliver of skin. “In case you need anything, tell me. I’ll get it.”

He made his way towards the door and Kenma felt his mouth mindlessly move on its own. “I knew,” he said, face inflaming.

“Hm?”

“I knew that you… weren’t like that.”

Kuroo’s broad back was turned his way, so he couldn’t see the look on his face. He wondered what kind of impression those words left on the other. “Sleep, Kenma,” Kuroo said as his hand wrapped around the door handle.

“I can’t,” Kenma called out, too tired. He wasn’t sure what he was aiming for with this, but he couldn’t let Kuroo leave just like that. He didn’t want to. “I want to know what happened after I got here. Did I… say anything… w-weird?”

Did I confess? Did I tell you how I feel? Did I do anything stupid? There were plenty of questions he wanted to ask, but couldn’t bring himself to do it.

Kuroo turned around, hands placed on hips as he shuffled awkwardly. “You sure you wanna know?”

Not really. “Uh-huh.”

Kuroo crossed the small distance in a few big steps, sat down on the bed once more and took in a deep breath. “How much do you remember?”

Kenma actually wondered about that. Bits and pieces of blurry images weren’t enough to tell him the whole story. He might've dreamt up some parts, but he wasn’t entirely sure. “…did we... I think we might've danced, I’m not really certain. I can’t remember anything after that.”

“That’s because you passed out. Who even let you drink that much, you’re a total lightweight,” Kuroo scolded halfheartedly as he braced his palms against the mattress, holding his weight up on his arms.

“That doesn’t matter and I did? Like in the middle of the dancefloor? Is that even possible?” Kenma questioned. He'd heard various stories, but the whole ‘passing out while doing nothing' thing sounded plain stupid and slightly impossible. He was certain that he hadn’t drank that much, nearly not enough to black out like that.

Or maybe he was a case of one in a hundred. That would be kinda shameful.

His crush tousled his already disheveled hair even further, blatantly struggling while trying to word his next sentence as best as he could. “Well… yeah, you kinda did... but that’s mostly because an accident happened. You, uh, kindathrewuponme,” Kuroo said it in a single breath. “And then you were out like a candle.”

Kenma’s brain short-circuited once he had processed those words. Oh. Oh, that'd explain a lot. “Oh my god, I am so sorry! Um, I’ll wash your shirt, I’m sorry.”

Great first impression. Amazing. You have a moment with the guy you may or may not be in love with and then you send your stomach content right back at him like a projectile. He grabbed the pillow in case he failed to control the urge to die. Suffocation was okay.

“The dress shirt! It wasn’t even mine, oh—oh no,“ Kenma hiccuped once he realized. “He’s going to kill me. This is really bad. I will die from starvation if he doesn’t cook anymore.”

The more Kenma rambled, the more it seemed to entertain Kuroo. It wasn’t funny damn it, Inuoka's homemade food was everything to Kenma, his only source of real food despite how little of it he ate, and the whole deal was just plain embarrassing. What should he say to Inuoka? How will he explain that he wasn’t home? Unless he got lucky and Inuoka came back after he did, which wasn’t likely.

After some time, Kuroo cut off the bleached blond’s mindless rant. “Wow you sure talk a whole lot more than I thought – okay, don’t freak out on me. The shirt’s been taken care of. Yaku’s the one doing the laundry most of the time. A total clean freak. Can’t stand the sight of our messes. He… well, it’s for the better if you don’t mention the fact that you stayed here for the night.” His smile turned just a little bit strained as sweat gathered on his brow. Yaku was a tad overprotective of his little ‘family’, Kenma knew that much.

The dark-haired man shook his head to the sides to get rid of the horrifying mental images of Yaku burying his torn remains. “After your accident… I thought it would be for the best to take you with me. It seemed like a good solution at the time, so I carried you here. You were very… uh, insistent the whole time.”

Kenma knew where this was going as he rubbed his face furiously, exhaling through his nose noisily. “Can we… not mention that. I’m sorry.”

“Do you… always get clingy like that?” Kuroo questioned, an air of awkwardness surrounding him like a thick blanket.

Kenma really didn’t want to have this conversation.

“I don’t know. It’s never happened before.”

“So, uh… now you know.”

“…yes.” Kenma finished, hoping that the other wouldn’t pick at the subject again. “What happened later?” he asked, to distract the man a bit.

It worked. Kuroo seemingly relaxed, shoulders slumping slightly. “I carried you to my room and we went to sleep.”

“That’s all?” Somehow he didn’t believe it. It sounded like a lie to Kenma’s tired ears.

“I thought you didn’t want to have this conversation?” The other tried to salvage the strange moment they had, but didn’t succeed.

“Kuroo, what did I do.”

“You refused to let me sleep on the sofa, not that I wanted to begin with, but I had no choice. You insisted that I slept with you because - I quote; "the bed is like a rock, it’s cold and you’re warm".” Kenma was certain that the other was fucking with him - his ill-contained cheeky grin betrayed his intentions. “You tried to climb me like a tree and then you suddenly passed out. That’s all there is to it,” Kuroo ended lightheartedly.

More shame in the form of red cheeks and sweaty palms washed over Kenma.

“So we really didn’t do anything.” That was good, right? At least nothing happened. He didn’t have to worry about forgetting his night… nothing special happened. It was strangely disappointing as much as it was relieving.

“Yeah. Good thing you passed out there or I might've been seduced. You’re good with your hands.” Kuroo messed with him even more in order to see if Kenma’s face could develop an even darker shade than the beautiful beet red already shining on his cheekbones. It could and it did.

“D-did you… stay with me?”

“You really wanted me to, I just couldn’t say no.” The cheerful tone made the blond’s eyebrow twitch furiously. Stop, just… stop.

“Did I say anything weird?”

“Nah, not really. Depends on what you call weird.” Kuroo let out a dreamy sigh and looked Kenma dead in the eye. “You did confess your massive crush on me, called me a dick a few times and then we may have made out a little, but that’s all. Coz, you know. You passed out and stuff.” His grin was absolutely unnerving and did the distance between them suddenly shrink?

What.

Did he really…? No, impossible. Kuroo was certainly feeding him utter bullshit.

Kenma didn’t believe a single word he was saying as he lifted himself up and threw a pillow at the man’s smug face. Kuroo caught it with ease, cackling at Kenma’s weak attempt to ‘teach him a lesson’. “That’s a load of bull, I said no such things,” Kenma's voice came out in a girly screech and he shut his mouth before he could embarrass himself even further.

“I could be lying. Well, when you remember everything, you can figure out what was true and what wasn’t yourself. Make sure you tell me once you do. Until then, this is the only version you’re getting.“ His stupid crush snickered in a mischievous way, moving a little closer to Kenma.

“I don’t even like you,” Kenma grunted, face radiating heat like a microwave. There go his plans to live with the penguins. He didn’t want to speed up the global warming.

His mind would be at ease if Kuroo was the one far, far away from him. Maybe he should be the one to leave, not Kenma.

“That’s really cute.” Kuroo merely smiled and let out the fakest yawn ever, stretching his clasped hands before him. Show off. “And now I’m tired, so scoot over. I don’t know about you but I want to nap for a bit.“ It took Kenma exactly five seconds to understand what that meant. Was Kuroo actually going to…?

His answer came to him when Kuroo plopped down on the bed with a contended deep sigh. He fluffed - more like pawed - the pillow just like an overgrown cat and glanced shocked Kenma’s way. “And don’t look at me like that. We’ve done this before, haven’t we?”

“I-I woke up alone, where’s the p-proof… that we slept together?” His voice was trembling so much that he could no longer identify it as his own.

Kuroo. In the same bed. With him, the weirdo Kenma Kozume. Sleeping together. Just sleeping like… like...

Like a couple.

“First of all, you woke up in my bed,“ Kuroo muttered, voice drowsy as he really did let out a small, honest yawn. It sounded funny, but Kenma was thinking about other things way too intensely so he couldn’t appreciate it. “Secondly, it will come back to you after some time. Now stop overthinking so much, my head hurts just by looking at you. You gotta relax.” It sounded strangely familiar, like a memory from a long long time ago. It made Kenma's head ache and vision blur, so he didn’t notice Kuroo’s arms tightly wrapping around his waist. Kenma was suddenly pulled back on the bed, side pressed into the mattress while the tip of his nose brushed against Kuroo’s neck. “Like this,” the taller one muttered sleepily.

The blond gasped when he realized that Kuroo Tetsurou was cuddling him like it was the most natural thing to do. He was pressed against his long time crush’s front, the man's chin lightly pressing against the top of Kenma’s head. It felt strangely familiar, like something out of a good dream that he’d had, like they'd been doing this for a long time. His pulse was thrumming a steady staccato inside his ears as he listened to Kuroo’s soft breathing, evening out with every passing second. Absolutely absorbed in the feeling of comfort that came from sharing body heat and Kuroo’s palm pressed against his hip, Kenma scooted closer, the tip of his nose brushing against the hot skin of the taller one’s neck. He shut his eyes, reveling in the feeling, enjoying the tingling sensation in the pit of his stomach.

“You really suck at this,” Kenma whispered, suddenly way more tired than before.

“Want me to leave?” Apparently, Kuroo wasn’t asleep like he'd expected.

“…no.”

He wasn’t sure as to what this meant or where it'd lead, he didn’t care if it was right or wrong, normal or strange, at that very moment it just felt… natural. Kenma wasn’t the type to act on impulse, always watching, analyzing, but this time was an exception.

He figured that he’d think about the consequences when the time came.

“Nah, they haven’t screwed yet.” Bokuto took a sip of his canned coffee and kicked a pebble down the sidewalk. He looked towards the cloudless blue sky but immediately regretted it as the bright sun burned his tired eyes. He waved at someone that he knew and walked faster. Akaashi was probably missing him already! He couldn’t let him wait for long. “I think? If they did anything, Kuroo would have said something by now, like, "guess who had a big morning!",” Bokuto laughed, but his companion didn’t even crack a smile, expression unreadable.

His pace slowed down until he came to an abrupt halt and Bokuto turned around to see if he hadn’t been suddenly ditched. “Hey, Tsukishima, are you feeling alright? Stop stalling.”

The bespectacled man didn’t even look up, gaze glued to the pavement, staring with such intensity that Bokuto was sure he was trying to crack it. He quickly crossed the short distance between them and sidled up to him, trying to take a good look at his face. “Heeey, earth to Tsukki.”

He waved his hand in front of the Tsukishima’s face until he received any sort of semblance to a proper reaction. It was a halfhearted glare. “Stop that. And quit calling me Tsukki. It’s annoying.”

“You were out of it, had me worried,” Bokuto said, his tone serious. “And no.”

Tsukishima’s face twisted even more, unused to any kind of worry directed his way. He merely started walking away, Bokuto following in tow.

“So they haven’t...?”

“Huh? Oh. Yeah, they haven’t. I mean he’s not the type of guy to take advantage of anyone, but this is the first time-“ the shorter one looked at Tsukishima’s face and suddenly came to a halt. “Wait, are you worried or something?”

“What,” the other spat out, startled by the sudden change of subject. Bokuto was always the one to turn the tables and he wasn’t… as dense as most of the people out there thought. “How the hell did you even come up with something like that?”

“It’s kinda obvious. Never pegged you as the jealous type, Tsukki.”

“You’re actually even dumber than you look,” Tsukishima muttered, suddenly angry.

“You didn’t say ‘no’ there.”

“Maybe I didn’t even think of denying it.”

What the hell was he saying? He was acting like a complete dumbass… oh great, now he was developing the King’s pattern of speech. Tsukishima restrained the urge to smack his own face to stop his bullshit train of thought.

Bokuto went uncharacteristically silent. “So is that a yes?”

“That’s a ‘fuck no’. Learn to differentiate between sarcasm and honesty properly.” He fixed the strap of his messenger bag and placed the headphones over his ears, drowning out the sounds of the city. However the music wasn’t playing loud enough to drown out the words Bokuto uttered next.

“I’m not fucking sure what Kuroo sees in you, you’re as bitchy as they come. Then again, he’s the same. And your personalities are pretty much married already. Thank every deity that you’re not a chick or the kids would be a real wonder.” Bokuto’s mood pulled a complete 180, suddenly getting annoyed with his companion. “You’re a real joy Tsukishima, there’s no one else to blame but yourself if Kuroo loses what little interest he has in you. So think about that. I’m going now,” Bokuto said curtly and went on ahead, waving over his shoulder. “Tell that Yamaguchi kid to get better soon. He’s the one who has all of the patience in the world to deal with ya.”

With a click of his tongue, Tsukishima stormed away, his pace quick.

Interest. What a load of nonsense. Bokuto’s brutal honesty whenever he went into his ‘special zone’ was hurtful, but Tsukishima didn’t let it get under his skin, mind solely focused on the task to get back home asap and look after Yamaguchi. He never took care of himself properly and he had no Kuroo with his ‘magical hangover healing skills’ to help him through the mess.

The blond shook his head to the sides.

The hell was wrong with him?

Chapter Text

Rustling of sheets. Muffled noises and steady breathing beside him. Someone arguing in hushed voices.

Kenma’s eyelids twitched but he pretended to sleep, hoping it'd be the best way to drift back to his la la land.

“Isn’t he the cutest?”

“Yeah he is and keep it to yourself,” the person lying beside him spoke up, obviously bored. Kuroo.

“Sheesh, don’t be such an overly-protective hen. It’s not like I said that I’m gonna jump him or anything. Plus, we’re friends! You should know that better than anyone else,” someone replied, undeniably Lev. Kenma felt the tall man’s weight press into the mattress by his feet, bouncing lightly.

“Yeah yeah, now shhh, I can’t hear them!” Kenma’s sleeping partner carefully rose from the bed – much to Kenma’s dismay, he really liked that warmth, thank you very much – and for reasons unknown he tip-toed away.

The bleached blond could visualize an annoyed pout twisting Lev’s lips. “You’re being way louder than me!“ the pitch of his voice rose as he immediately forgot that they were supposed to be whispering in the first place. Abruptly, Kuroo shushed him. Kenma felt that now was the right time to alert the others know that he'd been rudely woken from his deep slumber.

“Hmm, Kuroo…?” Kenma murmured sleepily and lifted his messy head off the pillows, gingerly rubbing at his sore eyes. When he fully opened them, though, he was met with Lev’s big green ones. “What?“

In a flash, Lev’s long fingers pressed against his mouth. Kuroo peered over his shoulder to see what the commotion was about. Kenma glanced his crush’s way - who was standing on his tip-toes, palms and the side of his head pressed against the door, obviously trying to listen in on something - and then his gaze skittered back to Lev.

“What’s going on,” the words were muffled by those long bony fingers. Kenma contemplated whether he should swat the digits away or lick at them so that his personal space invader would back off.

“Kenma-san, you have to be really quiet or you’ll miss something golden!” Lev beamed in response, cheerful as ever and looked over his shoulder. Kuroo fervently waved one hand in the air, a sign for Lev to let go of Kenma’s face.

The latter raised one eyebrow, not sure if he should be weirded out by Kuroo and Lev’s weird antics. Their poses looked hilarious and absurd due to the lack of context. What were they trying to hear anyways? “I don’t hear anything, though?” Kenma squinted at the door, listening to the sounds of... quiet.

The duo simultaneously pressed their index fingers to their lips, trying their best not to make a sound. Kenma could clearly see that it wasn’t working out, seeing that they were grinning like idiots while trying to stop themselves from laughing. Another beat of silence passed, and this time, Kenma finally heard it too.

At first it was very faint, but the more he focused, the clearer it became.

“Great, what happened this time? I keep telling you time and time again to stop…” Sawamura’s accusatory tone echoed loud and clear on the other side of the door as he sighed, seemingly frustrated. “Next time I lay my hands on them, they better be ready.” It didn’t take a genius to realize that he meant the troublemaker trio. The more he complained, the more obvious it was. He cursed the Karasuno trio out, unhappy, and then took in a deep breath to calm down. “Suga, you should stop getting yourself easily swayed and roped into their dumb deeds. Remember what happened last time.”

“That doesn’t matter right now, Daichi!” Kenma had to strain his ears even further to hear the reply. Lev was gnawing at his lower lip and it seemed like Kuroo was about to burst out into a fit of obnoxious laughter. “You can lecture me later, or better yet, don’t do that at all!” the usually-calm boy hissed into the speaker, angered by Sawamura’s deep-ingrained worrywart habits. The obvious irritation was totally out of character in Kenma’s eyes. For some reason Sugawara seemed desperate as if he were a rabbit dropped into a forest full of hungry wolves, ready to devour.

For the sixth time that day, Kenma mentally swore off alcohol forever. Sugawara’s morning-after seemed far more worse compared to his. Well at least the older man wasn’t arrested for whatever the hell - in case he were, Kenma's certain that Kuroo and Lev wouldn’t be staying here with him to begin with. They'd be trying to console Sawamura while keeping him away from expensive stuff – Kenma's heard that a pissed off Daichi should never be around brittle things; they suffered along with the people that those  aforementioned things were aimed at - and looking for a way out of this mess instead of giggling like a bunch of schoolgirls listening to delicious gossip.

Whatever Sugawara’s case was, it seemed to entertain Kuroo and Lev beyond belief. Kenma tried his best to relax. It didn’t work, since he knew that Lev found a lot of things funny even when they clearly weren’t.

“Just tell me what happened?” Daichi interrupted, bemused.

“Can I not…? Daichi, please,” the black-haired man didn’t give in to Sugawara’s meek request. “Please just… come get me and bring me some clothes.”

“Where are you exactly?”

“I told you, by the wall!”

“Can you be more specific? There are a lot of places you could be at that are ‘by the wall’,” Sawamura groaned, steadily growing exasperated. Lev let out a snicker and then slapped his palms over his mouth to contain it. The trio subconsciously leaned in, wanting to hear the answer.

Sugawara let out a stuttering sigh. “I’m… I’m in those bushes near the southern gates. Daichi, hurry up, I think I see the guards. I don’t want them to find me,” he whimpered, following it up with something that neither party could comprehend hear.

“Suga, why do you even need clothes? Why are you there in the first place?”

“I don’t know!” he squeezed out, obviously upset. “I woke up here! Last night’s a bit blurry? After we finished the game, we danced, and then I left with some people? I think it was Nishinoya? I’m not sure where he is right now. I did find his underwear.”

“And your own stuff?”

“I woke up here… completely n-naked. I’m not borrowing Nishinoya’s boxers, though…”

There was a beat of silence as everyone held their breath.

And then it all went downhill.

“Daichi! Daichi…? Stop laughing! It’s not funny,” Suga’s embarrassed voice echoed outside as Lev curled up on the bed, muffling his hyena-like laughter into Kenma’s bent knees covered by the blankets. Kuroo’s eyes were damp with gleeful tears as he snickered into his hand. “I found Tanaka too, he’s passed out. Completely naked, but he’ll be fine. He always manages. I’m not even sure how we ended up here…” the line went quiet as Daichi tried to control his laughter. “Shit, someone’s coming!” the fearful tone in Sugawara’s voice made Sawamura’s sudden fit die down. “Please hurry!”

“Alright, just… stay where you are. Lie down and pretend you’re a bush or something,” Daichi instructed in what he hoped to be a calming voice, failing miserably. “And cover up Tanaka somehow. I’ll be out in a few.” There was shuffling behind the door and Sawamura ended the call. Immediately, Kuroo made a mad leap for the bed, the movement making Kenma and Lev bounce upwards, Lev’s forehead connecting with Kenma’s knees. The black-haired man settled near the smallest occupant and pretended to yawn as the door opened slightly. Kenma decided to feign sleep and Lev tried to curl up beside him but ended up sliding off the mattress altogether.

“I’m going out now,” Daichi announced, stuffing his phone into the back pocket of his jeans.

Kuroo was the worst when it came to pretending that everything was chill and he totally wasn’t glued to the door to listen in on Daichi’s private conversation. What kind of a cool guy would do something like that? Not Kuroo Tetsurou, certainly. “I see that you got yourself stuck in a predicament and you can’t seem to bare it.”

Lev pretended to have a coughing fit as Kenma’s eyebrow twitched. Really? Whoever the hell said that this man was the epitome of hotness, better fess up now, because Kenma was ready to prove call bullshit. Daichi’s scrutinizing gaze darkened as he glared at the shit-eating grin plastered on Kuroo’s face, steadily growing with every passing second.

“You better not be listening in on my conversations again, Kuroo, or you will be in a world of pain. That, I can promise you,” he threatened.

“Don’t flatter yourself too much, Sawamura, I really don’t care about your personal affairs. No offense.” Kenma heard Kuroo chirp as he placed a palm on Kenma's shoulder. “I’m just making sure that Kenma here sleeps well.”

The sincerity in his voice had somehow managed to soothe Daichi’s judgmental attitude and force his guard down. Kuroo’s smirk grew. He knew that Sawamura always cared for others more than he did for himself, putting their needs above his own. He was simply that type of guy, usually giving in to honest displays of affection. Instead, he now refocused on Lev, who was trying his best to pretend that he was a harmless plush toy. Needless to say, this act didn’t quite work. “Haiba?”

The taller man sputtered as he almost fell to the floor again. “Yeah, I was here to, uhhh…” Lev racked his brain for an appropriate answer. When his eyes lit up with a sudden outburst of knowledgeable, witty responses, Kenma felt threatened. “Kuroo’s totally into threesomes, yeah.”

That caused some sort of hot-wired reaction in Kenma’s brain as his cheeks warmed. Scandalized by the statement, he shoved Lev off the bed at the same time Kuroo echoed "yeah, totally", an indifferent expression painting his face.

Daichi raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms. “Right. Speak a word about this to anyone and you’re done for. Especially Bokuto, you hear me?”

“Will do,” Kuroo saluted him. “Now, don’t you have somewhere to be? Your bare-butt princess is waiting for you and your clothes. We, on the other hand,” he waved his hand for emphasis, voice monotone, “have a hot threesome to attend to. Have a good day.”

Lev nodded enthusiastically, even going as far as frowning to appear completely serious. Sawamura sent a pitying stare Kenma’s way. The latter was trying to suffocate himself with a blanket while discreetly slapping Kuroo’s side underneath the sheets to cause him some form of pain no matter how little, but if Kuroo even felt anything, he didn’t let it show.

Daichi heaved a deep sigh, faith in his friends lost completely. Not that it hadn't been already. “One of these days - you know what, forget it. See you.” And with that, he shut the door.

Kenma was the first one to break the silence. “You two are complete jackasses and I want nothing to do with either one of you.”

Since last night, Kenma'd been humiliated, made a fool of himself in public, and even worse, in front of himself, and then he'd been humiliated some more. Nothing good was coming out of this post-rave mess, and in the long run, a few hours of cuddling and suspicious blackouts weren’t worth jack shit.

Kuroo stared him down as though he was just stabbed in the back by his best friend whereas Lev simply placed a pacifying hand on his head. “That’s what you say every day, Kenma-san.”

Kenma flopped back into the pillows, far too exhausted to think of some biting response. “And then you do that!” Lev exclaimed cheerfully as Kenma smothered down the urge to smack the guy with a pillow.

Kuroo took out his phone, fingers flying over the screen, texting. Lev leaned over Kenma to look at the display. “Aw man, I wanted to be the first one to tell him.”

“He did emphasize ‘especially Bokuto’.” Kuroo replied. “Better luck next time, this one’s mine. Sawamura needs to do something about the sound options on his phone if he doesn’t want others eavesdropping on his "super private conversations". I wonder how Suga has managed to get that hammered.”

Kenma reluctantly spoke up, unsure if he should even contribute to the ensuing conversation. He still had some lingering bravery issues when it came to speaking to his crush. At least the words that did not involve the phrases ‘no’ or ‘I refuse’. “We were playing a drinking game,” Kenma added awkwardly. Lev looked his way, yet Kuroo didn’t even bother to look up from his phone, dark eyes glued to its cracked screen.

“Yeah, heard about that. But still, drunk enough to run around naked? I didn’t think the day would ever come.”

“You don’t know soooo much about Suga-san!” Lev chimed in and finally sat up like a normal person.

“I think I know him way better than you do.”

“You think. That’s where you're wrong.”

“I'd fight you on this,” Kuroo exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “I mean, that guy has his own limits, you know? Shit happens when Sawamura ain’t there to keep him on a leash. And then every time all that crap hits the fan with gusto, Sawamura can barely bear it.”

Lev stared incredulously, mouth agape, while Kenma was far too amazed by the incomprehensible layers of sheer lameness emitted by his crush.

“That was so bad I felt myself die a little on the inside,” Lev breathed out. “I thought you were far more cooler than that! Don’t ever do that again. Kenma-san, agree with me!”

The blond nodded his head and tried to figure out what was it about Kuroo that had attracted him initially. Nothing, that’s what. Absolutely nothing. Other than the decent facial features (probably?). Now that Kenma took a closer look at his face, he noticed that they weren’t a godsend. Kenma inspected Kuroo's square, slightly-uneven jawline with one-day stubble dusting it, the tilt of his longish nose, black bags under his lively cat-like eyes, and the small scar above his eyebrow, taking in those tiny imperfections that made him human and not some Adonis cast out of an ancient Greek tale. The blond’s amber eyes focused on Kuroo’s still very perfect and amazing mouth, rapidly moving to counter Lev’s statements.

“Fuck you, I’m a puntastic genius. I’d like to see you do better.”

“I’m the best at puns!” Lev defended himself. “If there was a contest, I'd take the first place, I’m that awesome.”

Kenma swore that he'd heard Kuroo mutter something like ‘you meant that stupid’ but the other only grinned. “You sure you’re better than me?” he sat up straight, a challenge in his body language.

“Definitely,” Lev answered honestly, smile falling once he'd noticed that Kuroo’s grin hadn’t faded, suddenly wary.

The black-haired man brought his hand down and Lev almost flinched, thinking that he would get slapped, but it landed on his shoulder instead, firmly clapping a few times as if to reassure. “If you’re that awesome, why don’t you go distract Yaku for a bit, huh?”

The tall half-Russian paled as he visibly shrank back. “W-What? Me?”

“Yes, you.” Kuroo’s smile seemed to turn a tad evil. “There’s no one else left besides you, is there?”

Lev gulped. “You really don’t need me to distract him, I mean-” he looked around frantically, trying to avoid staring at the cunning man situated before him.

Kuroo let out an overly-dramatic gasp at the meek refusal. “Not even for an hour? There’s no one else I can trust this mission with, but you, Lev. So be a big boy and go out there,” he fluttered his eyelashes innocently, the grip on Lev’s shoulder strengthening just a little bit, unmatching with the angelic disposition. “C’mon, he’s your roommate. Just bullshit about something so that he doesn't show up to loiter in the hallway.” The playfulness in his features was replaced by seriousness, Kuroo's tone commanding. “You’re the only one who can pull this off.”

With wide eyes, Kenma stared as Lev's cheekbones turned at least five different shades of bright pink, chest puffing out proudly. He seemed beyond pleased by Kuroo’s vague praise and blind faith in him. Lev was out of the room before Kenma had the chance to blink.

He kept staring at the door, mouth forming in a perfect ‘o’. Kuroo rubbed his palms together, obviously pleased now that the tall man was gone.

“All in a day’s work,” he hummed happily.

“…You’ve got to teach me that sometime,” Kenma exhaled, his admiration for Kuroo skyrocketing. Every single day Kenma spent hours upon hours trying to get Lev off his back while praying for Holy Akaashi to show up and aid him in his quest. Kuroo managed to complete it, in what now, ten seconds? That was surely talent.

“Admiring my work?” he waggled his eyebrows as if to tease Kenma a little.

“You have talent in certain areas,” Kenma admitted, lightly scratching the tip of his nose.

“Do I?” Kuroo supposedly questioned and stretched his arms above his head. “It’s not that hard when it comes to Lev. All you need to do is boost up his narcissism. It works on a lot of people, actually. Just don’t praise him too much or that might get annoying.” The blissful expression was changed by an uneasy one as he shuddered, as though remembering something nasty.

“What happens?” Kenma questioned, uncertain if he'd even wanted to hear the answer.

“Last time I tried, he got into a whining contest with Bokuto. It was horrible.”

“A whining contest?”

“It’s kind of like… Well you know how toddlers make those high-pitched noises when they're refused something? This is the same, but with grown ass men mentally stuck at the age of eight. They keep going at it until the other gives and that takes a long while. “

The mental image of those two standing in front of each other, faces red from lack of air, whining at each other in disturbingly high-pitched voices consumed Kenma’s brain. It was as hilarious as it was disturbing and he vowed to forget it soon. “You’re friends with some weird people.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“Lev’s decent when he wants to be… sometimes. Occasionally.” Kuroo stared, one eyebrow raised so high that it was going on a vacation. “Okay, maybe not, but it’s fine. I got used to it a long time ago.”

“I don’t think that even I could get used to that and I've the patience of a bloody saint. So sorry, kid, but I don’t believe a single word you’re saying,” he slowly stood up and looked around, dark eyes falling on the clock placed on the table. It read 8.20 pm. Kenma followed his line of sight, suddenly aware that he'd spent more than seven hours sleeping in Kuroo’s bed. Noticing his obvious distress, the taller man glanced over his shoulder.

The movement and the pause that followed made Kenma feel extra uneasy as he fidgeted with the blanket covering him. It seemed as though Kuroo was contemplating the best choice of words to tell Kenma to get the hell out and finally go home. The sun was already setting, dyeing the room in a mixture of faded oranges and reds. It made Kuroo’s strange beauty stand out even more, his gaze strangely intimate - the golden hour. Kenma hoped his blush went unnoticed as he firmly kept eyecontact. After some time, the taller one spoke up calmly. “Anyways, are you still feeling tired? If you want, you can sleep some more. I really don’t mind.”

And oh, how Kenma wanted to say, that yes, he wanted to stay there a lot, to the point his bones seemed to ache in that unfamiliar way, longing for the warmth that they'd shared, that Kenma had experienced for the first time ever, unwilling to let go just like that. To fall asleep next to Kuroo tonight, and the night that followed and then the one after that, but he felt that he'd already prolonged his stay far too much to be comfortable. It was in his best interest to head back home, take a lengthy shower and then get some proper rest, let Kuroo sleep without any strangers intruding and possibly kicking him awake. Inuoka was probably worried sick by now. Kenma wondered if his phone would be flooded with missed calls and text messages, if not from him, then maybe Shouyou.

Kuroo’s gaze was steady, waiting for an answer, and with one last longing sigh, Kenma kneeled on the relatively hard mattress, fluffing the pillow that he'd been using, eyes firmly fixed on it as the sky outside turned redder with every passing second. “No, that’s okay. I’ll be going home now. My roommate must be worried and I’ve stayed a bit too long.”

Kuroo didn’t respond for a very long time and at some point Kenma had thought that perhaps he'd even left the room, but instead, he felt fingers ghosting on his back as their owner’s dejected voice resounded in Kenma’s ears. “I’ll make my bed later, don’t worry about it. You’re probably still weak from…”

Frankly, Kenma wasn’t much of a clean freak, so he obeyed and followed Kuroo into the kitchen. He leaned against the counter, bare feet enjoying the coolness as Kuroo washed a lone plate placed in the sink, complaining about Bokuto being a sloth, abusing his power of authority whenever it wasn’t his turn to keep the apartment clean, purposefully leaving his messes behind. The silence that followed didn’t really bother the taller man, he even seemed comfortable, but it had a negative effect on Kenma. He fidgeted nervously with the hem of Kuroo’s shirt, occasionally sipping on the cool water that Kuroo had presented to him.

What should he say? How should he thank Kuroo for everything he’d done, even though Kenma was always such an ass, always rejecting his offers to ‘hang out’. He clearly didn’t deserve this hospitality. Kenma was certain that if he was in Kuroo’s shoes, he would've kicked the other person out the moment they woke up. Well, perhaps not kick out; he'd only kindly and politely ask them to leave. Kuroo had done neither of those thing and had even offered Kenma to stay longer.

It was strange. As he downed the glass, a thought that perhaps Kuroo really did fancy him as more than a future fuck crossed his mind, but he quickly brushed it aside. The chances of that happening were pretty slim.

When he thought about how to properly express his gratitude in a way that didn’t sound completely insincere like most of Kenma's "thanks, I guess…? It was okay, I think" speeches, Kuroo suddenly perked up.

“That’s right, the rest of your clothes are on the chair, your jeans are probably covered by my hoodie. Also your phone.” He dried his hands and pulled it out of his pocket. Kenma grabbed it like a dehydrated man who'd been wandering around in the desert for years, the phone being his source of water. He prayed to every deity that Kuroo hadn’t gone through his messages, especially the incriminating ones that he'd had with Shouyou.

He didn't want to think about the possibility of Kuroo reading over the ones from a week ago when Shouyou had tried to make Kenma acknowledge the fact that he secretly wanted to touch his crush’s butt. It was complete and utter nonsense, they'd suddenly started texting each other - Kenma because he was writing an essay he didn't particularly care for, and Shouyou because he was bored – and then things got out of hand. Kenma would much rather throw up on at least ten different people in public than let Kuroo see those. He'd made a mental note to delete his conversations before he noticed that his phone hadn’t been tampered with. Kenma expected a flood of worried texts, but he only had three missed calls from his mother and a single one from Shouyou. Inuoka’s name was nowhere in sight.

Strangely, the sight was rather depressing.

Maybe his roommate still hadn't made his way back home? It was highly likely since he'd had a great life dating his secret lover or whomever the heck. What was it even feel like to have a normal life without any worries and no stupid crushes on people wayyyy out of your league? That was something that Kenma had had a year ago, but at this point, it felt such a long time that he barely remembered any of it. As sappy as it was, the whole romance flavor added a little excitement to his otherwise plain and dull existence.

“Thanks,” Kenma didn’t even notice that word had escaped his mouth, too lost in his own thoughts. He wasn’t sure what was it exactly that he was thanking for, only that he had to do it. He kept it simple as always, being bad with words and all, and he didn’t want to make it weird.

Kuroo’s eyes developed that really intimate edge to them, glinting in a strange way when he sighed. “You don’t have to thank me right now. You can do it after I walk you back home.”

Seriously, he was far too kind for his own damn good. “That’s unnecessary,” Kenma stated, but Kuroo only snorted.

“Yeah right, and you think I’m alright with you getting seen by Yaku leaving this place? Hell no. I’m walking you home and that’s final.”

So in the end it was for his own sake?

“Right,” Kenma pushed himself away and padded back to Kuroo’s room in order to change. He tried not to look around too much. Making good memories of this place was surely a bad idea. He won't ever come back here.

The walk back wasn’t as unpleasant as Kenma had initially thought it would be, other than them earning raised eyebrows and surprised stares whenever a pair of the Kuroo’s friends passed by. Kenma knew that the pitying looks were to be expected, but tried to seem unaffected, much like Kuroo was. In the end, he was forced to wear the shirt that Kuroo had lent him  - "if you want to go home half naked, fine by me" - and was hoping that Inuoka wouldn’t notice the disappearance of his own dress shirt.

The sky was now a shade of dark blue. When they left the shared room, Kuroo had frantically looked around the hallway with a great deal of fear, reaching the stairs in lightning speed while Kenma followed close behind, unfamiliar with the layout of the dormitory. Sure, Yaku had dropped by a lot of times, but only then did Kenma realize that he'd never visited the short man's place.

They eased into a conversation which revolved mostly around the rumors about Kuroo. Kenma didn’t really learn anything new, especially about the whole sexual deviancy deal, but at least he was certain that Kuroo wasn’t a certified alcoholic by the time they reached his dorm and passed the southern gates. The taller man asked Kenma if he wanted to go bush diving to look for Tanaka, but he politely refused, trying not to laugh along with Kuroo.

“These bushes are like the Bermuda triangle,” Kuroo explained as they passed them by. “So many things were lost here, none to return. It’s been that way even before you got accepted here.”

“I’ve heard some stuff,” Kenma agreed, his pace deliberately slowing down once the dorm came in sight. “It’s a strange phenomenon that tends to attract intoxicated fellows to it. That’s why the guards are extra wary of this place.”

“They hold a lot of good memories, but let me tell you, once you go in there, you’re not coming back the same as you once were. We call it the Bermuda bush experience.” Kuroo smiled cheekily and Kenma flushed, averting his gaze. “I think they’re one of the reasons why I quit drinking. Not because I lost my wallet and car keys in there or anything.”

Kenma never wanted to try it, ever. “Quit drinking? You? I don’t believe that.”

“I haven’t signed up for temperance movement or anything of the sort, but I don’t have a problem anymore, that’s for sure.” The way Kuroo said it seemed far too serious to write off as a mere joke or a simple dumb event which belonged to his ‘party years’. It made Kenma wonder. How did he earn the ‘party animal’ label in the first place? “During my freshman year, I was uncontrollable. Partying, clubbing, booze, good company, the sense of freedom - you know, all those things that out-of-town college and university are really about,” Kuroo let out an airy mirthless laugh.

“…I don’t really know,” Kenma answered honestly, musing over it. In all honesty, he never felt compelled to do any of those despite the countless offers shot his way. It just wasn’t his thing. “I’m not really interested in it.”

“Hard to believe after last night.”

“I was roped into it.”

“You choose whether you want to get wasted or not by yourself, which means that others have nothing to do with it. They can only influence you.” Kuroo’s pace slowed down even more than Kenma’s and they were barely moving now. The taller one looked down to get a better look at Kenma’s face. “Were you influenced?”

“I was,” Kenma answered through grit teeth, hoping that Kuroo wouldn't notice him flat-out lying. It was somewhat truthful, though, he guessed. Shouyou was the one who'd brought him to the bar. If it weren’t for his orange-haired best friend he would've bailed five minutes later. But then he left, and the rest was history.

Then again, if it weren’t for Hinata, he wouldn’t have any of this.

“If you say so.”

Another couple passed them and Kuroo tiredly waved their way as the girl greeted him enthusiastically. Kenma took that chance to pry. “So what happened? How'd you quit?”

“It wasn’t easy, not with guys like Bokuto around. They didn’t understand me and you can’t just quit in a day or two. First of all, my grades suffered a lot and that was the first red flag to stop. I couldn’t complete my coursework before the assigned deadlines so I'd bullshit everything and turn it in at the very last minute. I even got threatened with expulsion. My mom started poking her nose into my studies. In the end, I decided to dedicate more of my time to them. “ Kuroo stuffed his hands into his pockets while Kenma listened, carefully thinking through this new-found information. “That meant rejecting offers to go out clubbing every night. I guess it was good because the finals were coming up, so those offers had momentarily disappeared. Without constant hangovers for two weeks in a row, I realized that it was exactly what I needed. I no longer felt like shit, other than my lack of sleep, and believe it or not, I actually care about the condition of my liver. Got perfect 100s on all my subjects too.”

“So in the end you succeeded, huh? That must’ve been very rough.”

“Yep. It seems that ‘alcoholic stoner’ label is harder to peel off than I'd initially thought, though.” He simply shrugged his shoulders and let out a short sigh, the serious tone of his voice disappearing. “Well, can’t say that I really care. They're free to think that way about me. It’s too much of a pain in the ass to correct everyone.”

Kuroo went on ahead as Kenma stayed rooted to his spot, thinking. His heartbeat sped up at Kuroo’s exclamation.

He really is a good guy, isn’t he? Maybe all of these rumors are simply nonsense? Maybe he was never like that to begin with?

It made the pit of Kenma's stomach flutter pleasantly and he sort of wanted to maybe hold his crush’s hand and tell him to be strong. He knew that pretending to be indifferent could suck really badly sometimes, he himself had always cared about it more than he'd wanted to, while Kuroo simply flipped off the world and went at his own pace.

He wanted to know more about Kuroo Tetsurou, find out who he truly was underneath the layers of indifference and sass, what was it exactly that had provided him such an enviable mental fortitude. Kenma just wasn't sure if he would ever get a second chance like this.

Kuroo didn’t turn around to see what the holdup was, letting Kenma use that time to compose himself. “People always talk, Kenma. Doesn’t really matter who you are or what your social standing is, and the best way to find out what’s true and what’s shit-talk is to ask the person in question directly. That’s what I think anyways.”

Kenma wasn’t sure if he was looking too much into it, but for some reason, it didn’t seem that way as he caught up to Kuroo, determinedly staring at the ground so that his companion wouldn’t catch a glimpse of his heated face. “…You’re a bit of an embarrassing guy, aren’t you?” the shorter one stated, picking up his pace once more.

“I get that sometimes,” his companion laughed and followed in tow. Within seconds Kenma was climbing the front stairs while Kuroo stayed behind. The former turned around to look at him then back to the door and then again to his crush, emotions conflicting. “Umm, just wait here for a bit, I’ll go get changed and give the shirt back to you, so-“

He swore that he'd shivered due to the sudden gust of cool wind sweeping over his body and Kuroo frantically cut off his meek tirade. “No! I-I mean, it’s okay, you can keep it. Honestly.” Kuroo's voice developed a stutter back from that time in the kitchen and Kenma could’ve sworn that his cheekbones were dusted in light pink. “You can give it back the next time we meet,” Kuroo finished resolutely and Kenma looked down at his crush’s deep pink face as he waved his arms frantically. “So yeah, uh, you can take it and—I’ll be okay, um I’m going now.“

Kuroo took a few clumsy steps back, never lowering his gaze, as Kenma stepped in forward, hand extended, trying to stop the impending crash. “Uh, Kuroo?“

“Yeah?” his crush perked up and Kenma almost slapped his hand over his face out of sheer embarrassment when the black-haired man’s back collided with some guy’s who Kenma had vaguely remembered seeing around. “Shit, sorry!” Kuroo apologized and stumbled as the nameless guy grumbled a displeased ‘watch where you’re going next time’.

This wasn't going according to Kenma’s plans or visions or whatever the hell. Frantically, he patted his pockets in search of a pen that he always carried around just in case. Phone, keys, money—here!

Kuroo was still stumbling around, trying to compose himself as Kenma leaped down the remaining few stairs and jogged up to him, face burning bright red.

‘I can’t believe I’m about to do this…’ he thought and grabbed Kuroo’s sleeve. “Please tell me you have your phone with you,” he pleaded silently, eyes downcast. He fully knew that the answer was ‘no’ since he had seen that Kuroo left it on the kitchen table.

“Uh, not right now?” Kuroo replied, confused. At least he was standing straight instead of running into lampposts or wiggling his limbs like he was doing an interpretative dance. With one last determined sigh, Kenma grabbed his crush’s wrist so that his palm was facing upwards and uncapped the pen with his teeth. He scribbled a row of digits on it, his phone number, and quickly let go. Thankfully Kuroo was staring at his palm too much, slightly dumbfounded, to notice Kenma’s expression.

“Uh, you mentioned something about me giving you my number last n-night, I can remember that much.” Actually he couldn’t remember shit, but who cared. He could get away with it. God, this was embarrassing. “You better not smudge it. I’m not rewriting it,” Kenma warned him when Kuroo gingerly touched his palm with his fingertips. “And you better give me back my clothes soon.”

He could clearly see that Kuroo’s brain was short-circuiting, a bunch of different emotions painting his face every second as he processed what had just happened. Kenma tried not to exhale sharply when those wide black eyes met his. “I thought I’d leave it to Yaku, coz you’re obviously not… y’know.“

“You thought wrong.” Kenma turned around, his flight instincts kicking in. He couldn’t possibly deal with this right now, emotions getting the best of him.

“But-“

“Just… don’t think at all.”

He didn’t manage to take even two steps when Kuroo’s hand latched onto his wrist, tugging lightly so that Kenma would face him. He gave in, looking up slightly to see Kuroo’s eyes boring holes into him, the look on his face mirroring Kenma’s own. A brilliant shade of red painted his cheekbones, eyes sparkling resolutely with so much affection that Kenma almost felt physically sick all over again, but unlike the last time, this one felt oh so good.

“G-Go out with me!” Kuroo recited that same old phrase that he'd been using on Kenma time and time again, but this one was completely unlike the others. It lacked the smug confidence that radiated from his frame whenever he declared it. It was honest and Kenma could clearly see it as Kuroo’s face darkened and his lips moved soundlessly, trying to come up with something good and convincing, that this was not just a random joke. “I—I really mean it,” he stuttered out and frowned slightly, “at least consider it or just say no already, so that I can stop?” he bit his lower lip to hold back the words that almost escaped him. Kenma was too stunned to give them much thought.

“I’ll think about it,” he breathed out, eyes roaming Kuroo’s flushed face as the man seemingly stopped breathing.

“Eh?” he blinked, confused.

“I said that I will think about it. I don’t lie about things like that,” Kenma repeated himself slowly. It was obvious that Kuroo never expected to hear approval to begin with that’s why he was taking it so… unusually?

His slightly damp palm slid to Kenma’s equally sweaty one, squeezing lightly. “Will you really think about it?” he questioned frantically, eyes shining hopefully. “Honestly?”

“Y-yeah,” Kenma uttered out, holding onto Kuroo’s hand properly, squeezing lightly as if to reassure the other that he wasn’t lying and this wasn’t a strange dream either one of them was having. He still refused to meet the probing gaze dead on, though. Not sure what else to say, he slowly let Kuroo’s hand go, not wanting to sweat on it even more. “I should get going now. It’s getting a bit cold.” As if to prove his point, the blond rubbed his naked forearms, goosebumps developing on the pale skin.

Before Kenma could react properly, Kuroo had stripped off his black hoodie and Kenma almost suffocated on fabric as the taller man pretty much forced the particle of clothing on him. Kenma was almost drowning in it, and when he got his head through the hole, his hair stood up like an impressive afro. “You didn’t need to do that.” He tried to glare, but the effect was obviously ruined by his frazzled appearance.

Kuroo only smirked. “You can return it to me the next time we meet, babe.”

Wait what? Kenma hiccuped, face burning. Did he just— “Did you just call me ba—“

Kuroo used his moment of confusion to ruffle the bleached hair affectionately, something Kenma had absolutely despised because it made him feel inferior. He tried to slap the offending limb away, not that he could with those sleeves, when he felt Kuroo’s lips press against the top of his head lightly and he went very still. It didn’t last long enough for Kenma to figure out whether it was real or just a figment of his imagination because Kuroo was in front of him a few steps away, winking playfully. “Go get some rest! Till next time, sleeping beauty!”

“Don’t call me that,” Kenma mumbled, displeased. He wasn’t sure whether Kuroo had actually heard him or not as he turned on his heel and stormed away, slamming the door behind him. He flattened himself against the wall and breathed heavily as if he'd just ran a marathon. Some people were staring at him all weird. Kenma’s cheeks were still on fire and they inflamed even more when a loud and unmistakable ‘HELL YES!’ reached inside the dorm.

Stupid Kuroo and stupid crushes.

Once Kenma stepped inside his room he felt as though he had been blessed. His roommate curiously looked up from his laptop and took off his headphones.

“Oh, you’re back!” he beamed happily, not a hint of worry in his voice. “I just got here myself.” Ahh, that explained a lot. “Where were you?”

Kenma tried to come up with a proper response as he scratched the tip of his nose, immediately regretting the small action because it made his senses stir with Kuroo’s scent again. He still hadn’t rolled back the sleeves, enjoying the warmth. “I… went for a walk. Got a bit bored sitting around.”

Inuoka quizzically raised one eyebrow at that, obviously not buying Kenma’s petty lie. “…after last night I don’t feel so good,” he finished reluctantly and the suspicion left his roommates eyes, changed by curiosity.

“So how was yesterday, anyways? Did I miss a lot? Did anything interesting happen?” he attacked him with questions like an excited puppy and Kenma sat down on his bed, letting out a content sigh. His bed was cloud nine compared to Kuroo’s.

“Nothing interesting…” Kenma exhaled dreamily, his eyes drifting close. “Nothing at all.”

Inuoka seemed rather dejected by his vague response but didn’t pry. Kenma was about to drift off to sleep when his friend’s voice reached him again.

“By the way have you seen my shirt? I’ve been looking for it all over the place.”

Well fuck.

Kuroo was surprised to see Bokuto back home, stripped to his underwear, chewing on the snacks Kuroo had bought for himself.

“Those weren’t for you,” the black-haired man’s eyebrow twitched in annoyance. Bokuto merely glanced his way and then back to the food, taking a few more chips and chewing at them leisurely just to piss Kuroo off even further.

“Bite me, rooster.” He seemed to be stuck in his dejected mode, so Kuroo merely decided to ignore him for the time being. He wouldn’t let some upsetting vibe ruin his ecstatic mood.

He scoffed. “If you were going to be a moody bastard, then you should’ve stayed with Akaashi, princess,” his best friend shot back plainly, ignoring the half-assed glare shot his way.

Kenma had finally agreed to go out with him, or at least to considered it. Amen.

"He’ll think about it?" Kuroo wondered quietly and checked his phone. A bunch of missed texts from people he barely knew, some missed calls from unknown numbers, some chicks asking for answers. The usual. "Is that like him saying ‘yes’?"

He’ll have to ask around, people who were far better at understanding "Kenma Kozume 101". He still had a lot left to learn. Kuroo carried on ignoring his roommate, but unfortunately for him, Bokuto seemed to be out for blood, ready to annoy others. “Y’know,” Bokuto said, bored, eyeing the chip between his fingers as though it had somehow personally offended him. “I've never pegged you as the type to take care of someone instead of screwing them senseless. Also I was certain that the concept of "acting flustered after seeing them in your shirt and then making a complete fool out of yourself in front of your friends" eluded you completely. I personally think that it’s cute.” Bokuto devoured the chip and scratched the back of his head with his pinky as to not mess up his gelled hair with crumbs. “The romance factor just isn’t for you, my man, so give it up. He won’t ever say yes, I mean, have you taken a good look at that scrawny kid? Fucking you isn’t very high up his list. Now if you went for someone like Tsukki, then I’d understand.”

Kuroo felt his "saint's patience" snap all at once as he slammed his palms on the table, with enough force to shake it. “Well fucking sucks for Tsukki and your romance theory because he said that he’s going to think about it,” the black-haired man spat out and a the few chips Bokuto had been holding onto fell on the table as the latter stared with wide, surprised eyes, not comprehending the situation. “So you should get your long nose out of my personal life because it is none of your fucking business, alright?” Annoyed with his roommate, Kuroo pinched the tip of Bokuto's hook nose and stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door of his room with more force than necessary.

“Asshole!” he heard Bokuto call out from the kitchen.

“Go fuck yourself.”

Labels were hard to get rid of, weren’t they?

Sent: 10.36 pm
From: Trash cat
To: Me

I’m going to fucking get you for this, Tsukki, you fucking ass. Prepare yourself.

The blond smirked smugly as he looked at the message. He knew that Bokuto would give himself away eventually.

Sent: 10.39 pm
From: Me
To: Trash cat

Bring it on.

Chapter Text

Once Tsukishima got back home, he pushed down his headphones and noisily dropped his bag in front of a shoe rack, nudging the door behind him close with his toes. Bokuto's words felt as though they were alive inside his mind; loud, bothersome and echoing, every syllable making his pulse thrum in his ears. He tried his best to ignore them. For now, he had more important things to attend to, such as his very sick and hungover roommate. Tsukishima rushed to the white door separating him from Yamaguchi Tadashi's room and knocked loudly a few times, granting the latter his, as of late, much needed privacy.

"You alright in there?" Kei asked impatiently, worry eating away at his voice, making it unusually high-pitched. He tapped a jittery rhythm with his foot as he waited for Tadashi to get his ass to the door to finally unlock it. He never had the habit of locking it back when they were kids, but, as Tsukishima had mentioned before, as of late his childhood friend had been acting rather... weird. Sometimes he'd go as far as locking himself in his room for hours, only occasionally leaving his lair for bathroom breaks and/or whenever he was feeling particularly hungry.

A startled gasp resounded from behind the white barrier, followed by a whine and a whole lot of suspicious rustling--was he challenging his bed sheets to a death match?--and lastly, shuffling of feet.

"J-just a sec, Tsukki," his roommie called out, voice raspy from the alcohol abuse it had suffered the night before.

"What's taking you so long? Do you have someone over or what? It's cool, so don’t hide them," the blond teased, holding his hands up out of habit.

"Oh ha ha ha, very funny, Tsukki,” he heard Tadashi fake a mock laugh, “’sides not all of us are like you." That second sentence was muttered so silently that Tsukishima had to strain his ears to hear it. Confused, he quirked an eyebrow.

"What's that supposed to mean."

A pause. "...nothing."

"Whatever, alcoholic, just let me in."

"Th-that's mean, Tsukki! Uncalled for, too," the freckled brunet whined, a pout twisting his lips as he opened the door suddenly, nearly slamming it against the side of his friend's face. Tsukishima--whose reflexes had always been amazing and tended to kick in immediately, especially if something was coming for his face to threaten the safety of his glasses--managed to jump back in time, a little startled by the sudden movement, glasses tilting slightly. Embarrassed, he discreetly fixed them with the back of his hand before Yamaguchi could notice and stare. Disgruntled, he brushed past his feverish looking roommate and went inside the sacred mystery lair.

"I'm just stating the obvious. I wasn’t the one drinking myself into a coma last night." He gave the room a quick once-over. It seemed the same as always, messy and cool. In the literal sense, though, not ‘cool’ as in ‘amazing’, Yamaguchi wasn’t that cool, wait, now he’s getting off track here-

Had it been snowing in here or what?

"So." Tsukishima took a seat at the edge of the unmade bed, unwavering gaze inspecting him. Tadashi fidgeted nervously, his eyes focused somewhere above Tsukishima’s head. Instead of peeling at the dead skin around his thumb or biting on his almost painfully short nails--Tsukishima absolutely despised that habit and had reprimanded him more times than he could possibly count--Yamaguchi began threading his fingers through his messy hair in an attempt to flatten the unruly bangs, his brown eyes darting around to finally settle on some band poster. Typical weird Yamaguchi behavior. Might as well start calling him Weirdguchi if it doesn’t go away.

"Where's the lucky one?"

Yamaguchi stared dumbly. "What are you on about?"

Tsukishima couldn’t hide a playful--others might call it ‘sly’; sometimes it made little children sob--grin tugging at his thin lips. "Don’t tell me that you threw them out the second floor window." He kept on riling up his roommate (in a friendly way, of course) enjoying his visible struggle. Despite years of knowing each other, Yamaguchi never learned how to catch onto it quickly, so Tsukishima always made the most of his confusion whenever possible.

After exactly eight seconds, Yamaguchi's innocent confusion was replaced by a pinched look. He grumbled and made his way towards his bed. "You have a really bad sense of humor, Tsukki."

"Whoever said it was humor? You were taking an awfully long time, what was I supposed to think?" A shade of dark red dusted Yamaguchi's cheekbones, to the point his freckles faded. Tsukishima chose to ignore it as always. "And my sense of humor is fine, thanks," he snapped, brows furrowing purposefully, just enough to make the other one feel guilty.

"Sorry, Tsukki, I—" Tadashi racked his mind for an appropriate response while burying himself under his pile of sheets. "I... uh, I was feeling a bit dizzy."

Tsukishima sent him an unimpressed stare. "Right."

He knew that it wasn’t the complete truth and he knew that Yamaguchi too had realized it, but he didn’t pry any further. For all he knew, this could really be the honest truth. Hangovers were a tricky thing to deal with for most people out there, especially Tadashi. Tsukishima had taken care of him far more many times than Yamaguchi, always making sure that the other had stayed hydrated, patted his back whenever he knelt in front of a toilet bowl, and occasionally mopped the floor whenever Yamaguchi toppled over and didn’t make it.

Wiping stomach content wasn’t exactly his favored task and if the ever-dignified Tsukishima Kei had willingly chosen to do such tasks in your stead, then you were either blessed or fucked, because Tsukishima did no favors for anyone without at least some sort of ulterior motive or expectations.

If Tsukishima were pressed to think about it for a longer while, he would realize, that he’d never do anything of the sort for anyone else. He wasn't, though, so that one had stayed as one of those things that he didn’t dare to think about, remaining locked up inside a ‘special drawer’ containing his weird-ass thoughts and musings, shoved in the back of his mind.

He took a long look at Tadashi’s face. His lips were dry to the point they were almost bleeding. A light sheen of sweat covered his face, warm brown eyes glossed over. A pathetic view, honestly.

"Are you feeling alright?" the blond asked in a voice that he'd wanted to sound cold and uncaring. He needed Yamaguchi to feel bad for constantly getting hammered. He wasn’t an alcoholic trashbag, so unlike some people he knew, but whenever Tadashi truly let loose, he hardly felt any boundaries. Tsukishima wasn’t exactly looking forward to the sounds of retching disturbing his precious sleep.

"I wouldn’t say that I'm feeling alright," Yamaguchi tried to smile but it seemed more akin to a grimace than anything else. A series of coughs followed it, as if his body was trying to prove Yamaguchi's words. "I'm a bit better, though."

"Think you can make it to class tomorrow?"

"I think so, yeah."

Silence stretched as Tsukishima tried to come up with excuses to keep the conversation going, things that he could ask his sick roommate--as of late they hadn't been talking all that much and this was a golden opportunity that he couldn’t waste--while the said roommate laid down on his side, eyes closed and eyebrows furrowed. He probably had a headache again. "You didn’t show up at the competition," Tsukishima finally spoke up, a bit of awkwardness lacing his smooth voice.

The pained man's eyes shot wide open. "Oh shit, I completely forgot about it. I'm so sorry, Tsukki!" he started frantically apologizing, palms pressed together like a monk’s. Why did he keep on doing that...? "Did you at least kick their asses for me?" He opened one eye to peek over the top of his fingers.

Tsukishima sneered indignantly. "Of course I kicked their asses. Not for you though," he huffed, crossing his arms.

"Sooooorry! I will make it up to you somehow! I promise!” You can always make it up to me by buying me dinner. Or looking at me for once. Properly. “I made the wrong decision, I admit that. Winning together would've been so much more fun."

Tsukishima thought about the night before. Certainly he'd felt accomplished as always, but it just wasn't the same without Yamaguchi by his side. Strangely empty and... unfulfilling. He liked them kicking some second-rate ass together far more. "Yeah. That would've been nice," he agreed, voice quiet.

Yamaguchi's face colored in a brilliant shade of red, and that strange tension, which had always been present during moments such as these--he wasn’t even sure what to call them. Intimate?--resurfaced once again. The blond mindlessly reached out to press a palm against the freckled man's heated forehead. To check his temperature, of course, don’t be getting any funny ideas there.

Tadashi groaned lowly at the feeling of coldness against his face, tenderly nuzzling against it. Tsukishima's amber gaze roamed his friend's blissed-out expression, lips parted slightly to puff out erratic breaths as he held himself up with trembling arms, the tip of his nose tracing the contours of the Tsukishima's palm.

Yamaguchi's cat-like impersonation had suddenly crossed the invisible boundaries of "Tsukishima's amusement and entertainment" zone and threaded straight into a more dangerous territory which he hadn't named, but if he absolutely had to, he'd name it "shit involving Yamaguchi that you shouldn’t think twice over". It made the air crackle with invisible electricity, smothering like a pillow pressed into one's face. It hung heavy above their heads like a cloud of poisonous gas. Tsukishima hadn't dared to breathe in, fearing the imminent destruction of his sanity whereas Yamaguchi was inhaling lungfuls of it, like it was much needed oxygen after he'd almost drowned in a sea of god damn sexual tension, needy and - holy shit.

"You’re burning up," Tsukishima stated in what he'd thought, hoped, to be a firm voice. He'd also hoped that he wasn't stuttering like a giddy school girl. "I think you should get a cold compress if it feels better," he remarked, a tad too rushed. He wanted to excuse himself already and this was the perfect opportunity. Running a small errand like that for Yamaguchi’s sake wasn’t something he was too unwilling or too lazy to do.

Yamaguchi only made a really… disturbing noise somewhere deep down in his throat, breathing warm air against the thin and surprisingly tender skin on the inside of Kei's wrist. "Yeah, m-much better." The words were uttered out almost soundlessly, the skin of Tadashi's upper lip brushing against the Tsukki's oh so very fucking tender wrist, what the actual fuck, with every syllable. "This's so good, Tsukki, you're so good..." Tadashi was mumbling incoherently, but the meaning of those words had stayed the same. Tsukishima ripped away his wrist in the speed of light as though the limb had actually gotten burned, his own face uncomfortably hot.

"I'llgogetit," he squawked--so not cool of him--and stumbled out of the room, almost tripping over Tadashi's laptop charger along the way. His roommate didn’t call out to him while Tsukishima kind of hyperventilated in the hallway, skin prickling to the point it developed goosebumps. The phantom feeling of that electricity, that pressure against his palm was still lingering on, making his gut twist.

He willed himself to calm down--it was unlike him to lose his senses over dumb, meaningless things like that--and he did so in seconds. Regaining his stoic composure, he moved his palm away from his mouth. Without even knowing it, Tsukishima had pressed it there to muffle out his fear-stricken breathing, the same god damn palm which Yamaguchi had been face-fucking against mere seconds ago--in the most sensual way Tsukishima's ever experienced by the way, shit, no, that thought wasn’t supposed to be there, how did he not notice that it was this exact hand —

Okay, maybe he wasn’t that level-headed yet. But he was certain, that eventually, eventually it would all go away just like it always did, because Tsukishima was Tadashi's friend and—

Friends didn’t do…that.

And he hoped, like a naïve fool, that that very same friend, his best friend--and he would only say it out loud if you'd cornered him and held a gun to his head--had gotten over those... pesky feelings of his.

Yamaguchi was still too quiet when he returned with a wet towel in hand. Tsukishima said nothing, apart from a silent yet firm "get some rest", fully knowing he wouldn’t be getting a response in return.

He needed a good distraction. And he knew the right person who could provide him with that. His headphones crooned-

Angry with himself and the world around him, Yamaguchi Tadashi rolled around in his bed, progressively getting more and more annoyed because he couldn’t get comfortable. His sheets were pulled over his head to block out what little sun had managed to filter through the blinds. He ignored his throbbing head, which was craving for coldness and fresh air, in favor of sulking in the smothering darkness that he had created while stewing in regret and gut-wrenching jealousy.

What was he thinking, rubbing against his Tsukki like that!? Nothing obviously, he didn’t think at all! Stupid instincts, getting ahead of him all the time… It was just wrong and weird. Friends didn’t usually moan like that whenever they were being touched, even if it was partly due to the gratefulness and relief-what an amazing palm that had been. He knew that Tsukki was fidgety and didn't do the whole feelings mumbo-jumbo, because as smart as Tsukki was, he was incredibly emotionally challenged. Yamaguchi had sworn to follow the pace he'd set, or so to say, go with the flow, but it was becoming harder and harder to do so. Locked door, a pretentious barrier which he had naïvely assumed would honestly work and build distance between them, hadn't changed anything in the long run.

Tadashi's feelings burned just as strongly as they had back when he was fourteen - even more naïve, inexperienced, hopeful and painfully stupid - if not stronger.

Not even the bitter taste of total and complete rejection had managed to dampen Yamaguchi's spirits or damage what little shreds of hope he had foolishly clung to.

But that was only when it had involved rejection. If the rejection wasn't doing its job properly, he knew a certain someone who was, and it made Tadashi extra resentful, which was total bullshit, because Yamaguchi was incapable of feeling malice no matter how much he'd tried time and time again. This strange, burning red emotion was completely alien to him.

He was the lowest of the low for even considering monopolizing Tsukki. It wouldn't have been an issue if, hell, it wouldn't have even crossed his mind if it weren’t for the fact that ever since the start of their fabulous university life, Tsukki had totally dumped him for some campus heartthrob and his crew. It made Yamaguchi absolutely livid and he was pretty sure that he hadn’t felt this jealous over anyone ever since he was a little kindergartener with a big fat crush on Akiteru Tsukishima, who also just happened to be Kei's older bro. God, what kind of fatal mistake had he made in his past life that'd turned him Tsukishima-sexual? However, childhood jealousy was nothing on this.

That day, he skipped class.

In the evening, Tsukishima came back smelling like cigarettes and that gross lemon detergent or whatever the fuck it was that Kuroo Tetsurou had bathed in. He flippantly questioned Yamaguchi about his health and then invited him to some goddamn get-together, which Tadashi had politely turned down like a fucking gentleman because he was totally not cool with hanging out with... that guy stealing away Tsukki and his fucking attention. Fuck.

Not only was he forgetting his well-nurtured speech filter, he was also laying down some serious hate speech. Like, yeah, it was all in his mind therefore nobody had heard it and it didn’t count as the real deal, but it still made him feel guilty and even more pissed off, since he'd sworn to never bad-mouth others like that. He had too much bullying directed his way back when he was a pimply teenager, hanging out with a tall gangly kid functioning as his bodyguard and only friend. Yeah, Yamaguchi Tadashi definitely knew just how shitty it was. He could never wish for something like that on anyone, even for his worst enemy, and Kuroo was slowly but surely climbing ranks to claim that position.

"Do you need anything?" Tsukishima asked, bored. Was Tadashi really that boring to him? Were they not even friends anymore? Could they be considered ‘close’? Could they ever…

Yamaguchi only threw the blankets back over his head. He didn’t want to think about this. "Sorry, can you please leave me alone for now? I'd like to get some sleep." Tadashi let out the fakest yawn for the hell of it, an obvious pointer for Tsukki to leave him the hell alone so that he could continue hating himself and his stupid feelings.

His only response was the door closing.

Great. He fucked it up. Applause for Yamaguchi Tadashi. Where were his awards for being an insensitive jerk, hiding away from the world and his problems instead of conveying what he actually thought? But what could he convey? Nothing, that’s what. He knew that Tsukki's response would remain the same and he wasn't sure that he wanted to be 'no homo'ed for the rest of his pathetic Tsukki-less life. It was better to leave things as they were - falling apart, irreparably.

It kinda fucking stung a little.

A lot.

Tadashi stuffed his earphones back into his ears and let the music drown out his poisonous thoughts, mumbling the second verse moodily.

"…Of you not loving me the same."

Kenma woke up with a head start which was unusual because most of the time it took exactly five minutes of Inuoka's whining and bedsheet ripping to at least slightly rouse him from his deep slumber. However, despite the fact that he'd woken up early for a change and could actually be doing things, he didn't make any move to get up, listening to his roommate's even breathing, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Their room wasn’t the best one out there, nor was any room in their dorm, but it was alright. The students didn’t make any unnecessary noise and he never had to worry about forgetting to lock the door, because nobody ever made any move to steal. They had Akaashi moming them and that was all they really needed to keep the peace and quiet in their rundown sanctuary. Kenma stared at some water stains on the ceiling which was initially supposed to be white, now cream-coloured with old age. This room was so unlike the small apartment-like one that Kuroo and Bokuto had shared, newly built and considerably spacious.

Whereas people called this building the ‘hobo side’ of the campus, the place Kuroo and his best friend lived at was now dubbed as the 'rich bastard' hideout. And truly, it seemed like a private apartment complex rather than something their university would issue for its students.

Did that mean that Kuroo was... well, not necessarily rich, but well-off? That would explain how he'd managed to pay for all of these wild get-togethers. Those probably cost an arm and a leg, plus small student wages received from part-times. Where did Kuroo work to get such money anyways? And which days? He always seemed to be around and he never missed any outings.

Why was he thinking about that man in the first place, when he could be getting up and making himself presentable before leaving for his 9 am class?

Kenma shifted on his side, facing the wall, because he didn’t want to be caught staring at Inuoka's peaceful, albeit drooling, sleeping face. The blond rummaged under his pillow to fetch his phone which he had somehow managed to shove there right before sleep overtook his tired body. He turned off the alarm and stared at the screen, his mind strangely blank.

He kind of, sort of hoped to find a message from a certain someone whom he had banished out of his mind just mere seconds ago. Maybe a simple ‘good morning,’ or ‘hello’, or—right about anything. His heart sank a little and his spirits dampened just enough to make him toss the phone aside. This was beginning to get ridiculous.

It'd been like a few hours since they last talked. Why would Kuroo even take the time to text him? Why would he do so to begin with? Maybe Kenma's phone number was wasted on the guy, just another name in his book of digits filed under the letter 'K'. Maybe he’ll be forgotten like the rest of them.

But then Kenma remembered Kuroo's suggestion from last night, his own spontaneous answer, and shook his head violently. Caught up in the heat of the moment, he had given his answer without thinking it through beforehand. Was it really worth it…?

No no no, he was being way too negative and suspicious. This was a major bad habit he could never seem to get rid of. Flustered, Kenma pressed the long sleeve of his crush's hoodie to his face, inhaling discreetly.

It didn’t really smell like anything at all, maybe a little like lingering smoke seeping into the fabric, but other than that, it was just another normal--too big in size for Kenma--sweater. And, oh great, he was sniffing sweaters, whilst hoping to catch at least a weak scent of his crush. How... not creepy. Damn, crushes fucked with your head big time.

Kenma had never considered himself truly creepy. Awkward and a little socially inept? Yeah. Creepy? No. And then Kuroo had crashed into his life like a raging storm rolling across Kenma’s cloudless dull skies, effectively destroying his routine. The guy had struck him down with his charm, like lightning would a lone metal pole stuck in a field, sticking out like a sore thumb amongst beautiful flowers, effectively deep frying what little sanity and self-preservation that Kenma had left. All of his senses were absent, lost in Kuroo's pace and there was nothing to be done about it. He could only follow, unsteady on his feet.

As he'd said before - creepy.

Because this definitely fell into the creep category in Kenma's books. He'd only hoped Kuroo wouldn’t notice. Which he would. Eventually. And here he was, being all negative again. Shoo, bad thoughts.

No more dumb thoughts had a chance to surface because right then Inuoka's alarm had gone off, and the snot bubbles that Inouka had been carelessly blowing away, popped instantly. Amazed, Kenma stared at his roommate who shot up from the bed without so much as a hint of lingering sleep and whirled around.

'Wakey wakey, Keeeeeenmaaaaa- oh. You’re awake?" Inuoka blinked, mystified. He was staring, Kenma could almost see the question marks appearing above his tousled bedhead, and it was starting to get uncomfortable, so Kenma decided to leave the comfort of his sheets.

"I've been up for a while," he said as he clumsily made his bed. Damn it, he never caught the hang of this. He was a grown-ass man; he should learn this stuff…eventually. Inuoka made no move whatsoever, eyes drilling holes into the back of Kenma's head. Was it really that weird of him to wake up earlier than Inuoka for once?

Apparently it was. "Who are you and what have you done to my roommate!? Speak up, stranger, and I may spare you!"

With a war cry, the tall man lunged himself at poor Kenma, tackling him on his newly made bed, messing it up in the process. His grip was almost steel-like, keeping him in a headlock. Kenma hissed like an enraged feline, pawing at the man's forearms so that he would loosen them to grant him at least some breathing - and most importantly - personal space. He didn’t feel like suffocating in another man’s arms. Immediately, Inuoka did so, though his limbs hadn’t moved away. "Well!?"

"Shhh, shhh, it's too early, keep it down!" Kenma reprimanded him when he heard obvious groaning and thudding against one wall. They probably woke up their neighbors already. "Look, I wasn't feeling tired so I woke up earlier, now can you get your hands off, it's-"

Inuoka made a sound of refusal in the back of his throat. "No way! You - not tired? I don’t believe you! First it was the whole ‘taking a walk’ thing yesterday, now it's waking up early. You are keeping secrets from me!" The brunet playfully tousled his bleached hair, which made Kenma even grumpier. He was about to explain that he wasn’t obliged to share any details if he didn’t want to-his personal life was none of Inuoka's business and they weren’t that close in general-but then, the brunet gasped in understanding and Kenma's gut feeling gently told him: you're fucked.

"Oh, could it be that... our Kenma is in love!?" Inuoka almost squealed, into his fucking ear mind you, and gleefully bounced on the bed, almost choking Kenma in the process. "Or better yet, you have a girlfriend, which is like 'once in a hundred years' miracle, but congrats to you! You went out to see her, right? Did I get it right?"

"Will you get off if I tell you?"

"Sure! But only if you're honest!" Inuoka bolded his words with a light squeeze.

And so Kenma told him some things. Some being pretty much everything, minus Kuroo, his messed up shirt and the embarrassing choking on vomit in public places, though he had no doubt in his mind that that last one would be known to the entire campus by the end of the day. He wanted to postpone it as much as he could.

"And last night you told me that nothing happened," Inuoka tutted as they dragged themselves towards the building in which their morning classes were held. Did you really think they'd skip class for some trivial chat such as this? "Seems to me like this guy is veeeery interested in you. I say go for it!" The taller man jumped up, excited. Kenma vaguely thought that he jumped very high; he could’ve easily been a pro if he wanted to. He was so much like Shouyou in that prospect. No wonder they got along so well.

Kenma silenced him once he noticed people staring their way. Some girls looked him over, a critical glint in their eyes. They weren’t the first ones to do that this morning so Kenma feared for the worst. His social life was quite possibly dead. Not that he had one to begin with, therefore he had nothing to lose, but he still got along well with some people and now that was ruined. "Keep it down!" he pleaded and with an enthusiastic nod, Inuoka lent him one ear just in case. "I never said anything about a guy."

Inuoka stared at him, a knowing grin spreading on his lips. "You slipped up a few times but I didn’t point it out, because you’re Mr. Self-conscious-pants. It's okay, you don’t have to worry. I’m totally cool with you dating a guy!"

More people turned their way and Kenma right about melted into the walkway leading to the entrance of their building. Nervous, he pulled the glass door open and shoved his hyperactive friend inside.

"Please keep your voice down just this once. I don’t want others to know or overhear anything so they can poke their noses into this." Kenma pulled a face and let go of his friend's shirt, waiting for him to leave, however, he remained beside him, rooted to his spot, showing no signs of moving any time soon.

Their respective classes were held in different sides of the building, so Kenma mentally counted to ten, and when Inuoka hadn't run off with the usual cheerful 'see you later' the blond belatedly understood that his roommie wasn’t as naïve as he'd always thought. That look of resolution only proved Kenma's worries. He wouldn’t be getting off the hook any time soon, not until Inuoka got to the bottom of this.

A small sigh left Kenma's mouth as he quickly looked around, only to find a few lingering students chatting with their friends. Most of them had already vacated the hallways since class was about to start. They needed to make it quick, too. Kenma's professor, Mr. Nekomata was a kind, easy-going man, but he did not tolerate people showing up to his lectures more than ten seconds late. Kenma was already on his radar for nodding off during a particularly boring lecture a few times so he'd rather not get on his bad side again, ruining his relatively good student with a high attendance rate image.

"Aren't you... put off by any of this?" Kenma questioned, feeling unusually antsy. Inuoka didn’t seem to be the type of person to look down on minorities, but one could never be too sure. Some people that he had considered close to him, had drifted away from him like that. But that was during Kenma's high school years and things were different now or so Kenma was told when Inuoka only smiled brightly and patted his shoulder.

"You mean by the fact you're into guys?" Kenma refused the urge to either cringe violently or smack his palms against the man's unbearably loud mouth. He wasn’t even talking that loudly but to Kenma’s ears it had seemed as though he was shouting. He felt that familiar heat on his cheeks, but kept quiet. The sooner they got this over with, the better. "Dude, chill!” Inuoka gave one more reassuring pat when he took notice of Kenma’s constipated expression, though this one was more of a forceful calm down. “I'm fine with that."

It didn’t seem like he was trying to trick him. His friends from high school had tried to seem supportive too, but their faces had been full of awkwardness and their smiles were incredibly strained when they... congratulated him. Who even did that? "Congratulations on being gay and a special snowflake?" - was that it? Assholes.

Back then, Kenma hadn't really thought too deep into it, simply relieved that he wasn’t punched in the stomach or face by some homophobes. Everything was fine and they all  seemed to be chill, for two weeks, at least. Their friendship had turned into judgment afterwards. Kenma tried not to care, had gotten over his friends surprisingly - perhaps he'd never considered them true friends anyway, just some people he'd liked hanging out with for the sake of convenience. What got to him, however, was the fact that they were spreading his secret to the rest of the students.

It'd made him so nervous that he refused to lift his head up during class, fearing to meet anyone’s gaze. He even considered skipping school, unable to unhear the muted whispers of contempt, unsee the sparks of disgust in their eyes, but then, the volleyball club that he'd belonged to, had stepped in. Yamamoto had beaten up those guys without actually knowing the reason why, only caring about the fact that they were harassing their precious setter and then got himself suspended for a week afterwards. Yaku scared them with some blackmail and everything, and so, everything had died down before it could even escalate.

Those were the bad memories that had always haunted Kenma and kept his mouth sealed shut but… Inuoka was wearing his heart on his sleeve, and no matter how much Kenma had tried to see even the smallest traces of resentment in those big eyes,  he was unable to. It'd made his chest clench just a tad bit with unbridled happiness, knowing that his roommate wasn't going to ask for a room switch later that day.

"Do you really mean that?"

"Of course! Why would I lie about something like that? Isn't it only natural to like what you do? Does it matter whether it’s a guy or a girl?" He cocked his head to the side like a confused puppy and Kenma felt a smile tug at his lips. This was so much like Inuoka... "'sides, if... if it makes you feel any better, I'm, uh, kind of seeing a guy right now so-" he scratched the top of his spiky head, eyes averted, face pink. A silly and equally dreamy smile stretched the brunet's lips.

Kenma stared. And then stared some more.

What.

"Who?" he demanded. The urge to know who it was overtook him completely. Never would he have thought that... he'd always assumed that it was some cute girl, hyperactive just like her lover and—

Before Kenma had had the chance to latch onto his roommate and demand for a proper answer--it was only fair in this case--Inuoka broke into a run and Kenma had no choice but to watch him go. The guy was too damn fast and Kenma knew that he wouldn’t stand a chance in this race. "Sorry, Kenma! I have to get to my class, we can talk later!"

"Why didn’t you tell me?" he called out, attracting attention of those around him, but he really didn’t care. Up to this day, he wasn’t certain he'd yelled out like that, desperate to connect, have someone who understood. He kept on surprising himself.

"You never asked!" Inuoka answered, almost running over some small first-year along the way. With one last wave, he turned the corner, disappearing out of Kenma's sight.

Not sure what else to do, he speed-walked towards his own lecture hall, a bunch of thoughts swirling inside his mind so fast he wasn’t able to tell them apart. He tried to clear his mind. He needed to be attentive in class.

As Kenma made his way towards his designated seat next to Kunimi who curtly greeted him and stared at him all weird while Kenma took out his stuff, making no snarky comments about whatever the heck - shit, that’s right he'd attended the party a few days ago - Kenma let his fingers run over the cool surface of his phone resting in the pocket of his jeans, still silent as it had been when he had woken up.

Somehow he felt that he and Inuoka had grown a little closer.

The classes he had that day went by in a blur. They were unusually boring and lulled Kenma to sleep yet he'd tried to appear like he was at least listening to the professor. It was a hard task to do, especially when he had to look slightly to the side to see him, the same side where Kunimi was seated, still unabashedly staring at him in that unnerving way. Kenma tried his best to not pay attention and wished for the first lecture to end so he could escape that scrutinizing gaze.

When it was finally over – he hadn't gotten himself into any trouble and even managed to sneak in five minutes of shuteye - he packed his stuff, daydreaming about peanut butter cookies and blueberry muffins. Kunimi had already joined two others that he usually hung out with - some gingerish guy and another dude with caterpillar eyebrows, damn those were impressive - whispering among themselves. Kenma only made out the words 'Kuroo Tetsurou' and 'a fucking embarrassment'.

He realized that his fragile friendship with Kunimi Akira had been broken and buried.

For the rest of the day, he'd tried to ignore the acidic stares some girls – more like half of the female population and around 1/4th male - sent his way once he'd left the building to grab a bite. Kenma was down for some sweets and thankfully he knew the perfect place.

A flock of girls passed him, their heels clacking rhythmically against the pavement. He recognized the tallest one as that chick who had been clinging to Kuroo during the party while trying to take some scandalous sexy selfies with him. With a deep frown etched between his eyebrows, Kenma stared at her dead, bleached hair - kinda hypocritical of him since his was exactly the same - and her face which was coated in at least six layers of makeup. She was tan in a way that was less healthy and more on the ‘dog shit burned to charcoal’ side. Her friends tugged on her purse when they saw Kenma returning her bitch stare with one of his own.

"The fuck are you looking at, blondie?" she sneered at him.

Kenma’s eyebrows shot up, bemused. Good comeback. Even someone like Yuuki could do better, and the boy was a saint. He decided to pay her no attention and rolled his eyes.

She stomped her red heels on the pavement like an enraged bull, obviously not used to being brushed off like that. Somehow, it made Kenma’s mood slightly less shitty. It was the same kind of satisfaction that he got whenever he beat a particularly annoying final boss in some unmentioned video game.

A small smile tugged at his lips. At least Kuroo chose someone like him and not… that.

Was he a bad person? Probably. Did he care? Not as much as he would have three days ago.

The Red Pepper café was small in size and a little rundown, but otherwise cozy building near the campus. It stood just a little to the side from the ever busy crossroad, providing its customers the much needed quietness and privacy. Just like the name had implied, it was famous for its special chili pepper blend coffee which not many had dared to order, however, most of its income came less from the commercialized special drinks and more from the abundance of caffeine-deprived students, seeking solace for studies - especially when finals were right around the corner.

Mondays were considerably slow since it was the beginning of the week, thus not many were driven to the point of exhaustion. Sure, they had their 5.30 pm rushes like most places out there, but Yachi Hitoka worked until 3 pm sharp.

She was rather bored that Monday. Not much was happening and only six customers had occupied the vintage chocolate-colored sofas, laptops placed on small mahogany tables, the drinks that she had been making with utmost care held in their hands.

Boredom was not necessarily bad, she decided, as she made a medium frappuccino and grabbed a few chocolate chip cookies to go with the order. She loved her job despite the rushes of students during Wednesdays and Fridays and the suspicious door that kept smacking against her elbows and knees. Other than those few inconsistencies, it was ideal. Why, you may ask?

Well, for one thing, she had more than enough time to read. A literature major seemed amazing to her, but she knew that she wouldn’t be getting a job related to her studies, her future already planned out for her. Her mom had insisted that she receive a higher education, though. She was very against Yachi’s job at first, deeming it far too… common and urged her daughter to study like any ‘normal’ student out there instead of taking evening classes, but Yachi knew that her mom was secretly proud of her. Miraculously Yachi hadn’t been kicked out despite spilling numerous drinks during her first week, and the manager had warmed up to her within that short span of time as well. She liked Takeda-san a lot, mostly because he was too kind for his own good and a huge fan of literature as well. Sometimes he'd give her book recommendations or help her out with her papers.

Of course, she never had the courage to do her homework out in the open and only read whenever she was certain that the book couldn’t be seen from the other side of the counter. Yachi thought that abusing the man’s kindness like that would be plain rude and she did not wish to disappoint.

She was fake-wiping the counter with an ancient rag, eyes fixed on Yasunari Kawabata’s ‘Snow country’ hidden underneath it, and as she was about to turn the page, the sound of the doorbell reached her, momentarily drowning out the café’s indie music.

The blonde didn’t bother to look up until a familiar order reached her ears. “I would like a jasmine tea and a blueberry muffin, Yachi-san, if you’re not too engrossed in your book.”

She sputtered indignantly, shocked but pleased when she recognized the café’s ex-regular customer, elbow painfully colliding with the counter as she tried to cover the book and seem hard at work.

“Kenma-san, hello!” she greeted him brightly and fixed the rag which was now strategically placed over the cover of her book. The man gave her a feeble smile and nodded his head in acknowledgement. “It’s been such a long while since I’ve last seen you! N-not in general that is.” Yachi waved her hands in front of her face which was rapidly growing pink. Kenma looked confused and her sudden outburst attracted some attention from the back of the café. “It’s just that you’ve stopped coming by…!”

“Yeah, you’ve mentioned that. It’s why I’m here.” He scratched the back of his head, eyes averted. “And you can simply call me Kenma. The whole ‘-san’ thing is creeping me out.” He shuddered when he thought about one particularly tall individual abusing that ‘-san’ more often than not.

“But you’re a dear customer here.”

“We also know each other well enough to drop the formalities…?”

“I guess you’re right! Call me Yachi then!” the blonde girl chirped excitedly, jumping a little. It made her ponytail bob, along with her star-shaped earrings. Kenma had no idea where this boundless energy came from for all of those easily-excitable people. He always dragged himself slowly and lazily, even turtles couldn't beat him when it came to sluggishness. Yachi did a 360 and rushed to the tea stack. “Now go make yourself comfortable, your order will be up in a few!”

She was slightly surprised to see the bleached blond perch on the barstool in instead of his favored spot. She glanced over her shoulder to see if it was occupied. It wasn’t.

Yachi wondered if that was her cue to make small talk and tapped her chin with her fingertip, trying to come up with easygoing topics. She was about to ask him about the party, but Kenma beat her to it.

“…Yachi-san, can I ask you something? And I want you to be honest with me.” Kenma looked around nervously. No one was within eavesdropping range so he relaxed. Not by much really, he was still moving around a whole lot as though he couldn’t get comfortable, phone placed on the counter. He kept sending anxious looks its way.

Yachi took pity on her customer and moved in closer so that they wouldn’t have to speak loudly. She mimicked Kenma’s suspicious once-overs of their surroundings with exaggerated facial expressions, and lifted one hand up to her mouth. She felt like an information broker in a mafia movie.

“It’s just Yachi,” she whispered and sent a few suspicious looks one of their regular’s way. The guy quickly fixed his glasses and looked away from the weird scene, blushing madly. “And I will try to help if I can.”

“Um, you can stop with the gestures, we’re… not in a movie.”

“Awww, but I was having so much fun.” The girl pouted and pushed away from the counter to pour the tea. She was done within moments and Kenma was happily chewing on his muffin, hungrier than he had originally thought. Yachi resumed her position, fluttering her eyelashes innocently. “So what can I do for you today, customer?”

“It’s about the… r-rave.” Kenma felt as though he had been dunked in a bath full of ice cubes. A horrible feeling.

Yachi’s wide eyes only made the feeling intensify and suddenly Kenma wasn’t all that hungry. Her expression was completely serious and she was frowning just enough to make Kenma almost topple from his seat.

The second reason why Yachi adored her job was the fresh gossip. She kept up with everyone’s lives despite not really knowing or talking to the people in question. She always listened on conversations, watched couples, friends and enemies interact in this café. It was probably really disrespectful and nosy of her, but her curiosity had no bounds. She never spread any rumors around and never betrayed any secrets. She lived by her steel policy – what happens at the café, stays at café. All of those dirty secrets were only for her ears and for Red Pepper’s walls alone.

And now Kozume Kenma was asking her to share gossip. Gossip which so very obviously revolved around him and one Kuroo Tetsurou.

During those few seconds when Kenma’s face had gradually lost all of its color and turned white, just like the crayon she'd used on the price board outside, she was lost deep in thought. Should she break some rules and make an exception for a man who wasn’t even her friend, a man who wasn’t her best friend? She had to.

Yachi had always observed him sitting by the window, expression aloof as though he was lost in his own little world, and kept tabs on Kenma's life. She'd heard his name being mentioned in different conversations so many times, most of the feedback – positive. And then she'd heard him, that guy with pitch black hair who used to come by every day, the same guy who was surely going to use up their coffee stock one day. He'd spoken of Kenma to this pale guy which had scared Yachi shitless - there was no way he was human, a titan was more like it, awful flirting skills included in the package- in such a loving way that it'd made her heart ache.

Sometimes they would walk into the café at the same time. Sometimes Kenma would openly stare at the person who she'd later found out to be the infamous heartthrob of the campus. Sometimes, he'd only send a few longing and distracted looks the playboy's way, especially whenever he had ‘company’. Sometimes their eyes would meet and something would happen to Yachi’s heart as something fluttered inside her stomach.

She was a complete sucker for lovely, untold romance stories.

Those two were one of the best she’d ever witnessed in real life. Her choice of job had been influenced by the copious amounts of romance novels that she'd consumed as a teenager, hoping that she too would get to experience an awesome love story like that.

She was a sap. Guilty as charged, case closed.

And she had taken it upon herself to nurture this… thing that they'd shared into something beautiful. It had potential, it definitely did, and she was certain that Kuroo wasn’t as bad of an asshole as people made him out to be. Besides, he was a cool guy to talk to, despite the downsides of being far too sarcastic, a little cynical and somewhat scary as well. She'd also disapproved of the flirty smiles. It somehow made her offended on Kenma’s behalf.

“I don’t even know where to start,” Yachi spoke up after her inner battle had finally died down and she'd reached a conclusion.

Kenma paled even more. Yachi was beginning to reconsider. She didn’t want him to feel bad, as in she didn’t want to drag him to the hospital.

“…h-how much is there?”

He was still holding up, that was definitely a good sign. “Honestly, less than you think. Technically it’s been one day, if you wanted more you should’ve come on Friday.” It made Kenma’s shoulders sag a little from relief. He let out a stuttering sigh.

“So tell me what you got so far…?”

She looked around the café. People were minding their own business, even the guy from before was engrossed in his work. “Um, so I’ll keep this simple – have you run into any… Uh, ferocious girls today?”

Kenma blinked, surprised. “Uh no, not reall—“suddenly the image of that sneering girl flock resurfaced before his eyes. He didn’t think of it as significant? “No, that’s not right, when I was about to get here a few girls… kinda looked at me all nasty?”

“Did you see anyone with dead hair and toothpick heels?” Yachi asked curtly, nose scrunched up in disgust. She tried to appear as though she was working, wiping at the spotless counter again. “Really tall.” Yachi gesticulated, hand placed horizontally above her head.

“Oh. Yeah. She was the one. Didn’t seem, very… bright.” Kenma finished, unwilling to talk shit about some person he didn’t even know.

“Ugh, tell me about it.” Yachi made a gagging sound and suddenly he didn’t feel guilty. “Like she used to be okay and all, even pretty, but then she started dressing like a ganguro and I think the hair bleach got to her brain.”

“You didn’t seem like the type to trashtalk others.”

“Pal, you don’t know a lot about me,” the blonde pointed an accusing finger his way. “Though you’re absolutely right – I try to stay out of everyone’s business. Less attention on me that way. I’m sure you understand.” Yachi winked playfully.

“I can sympathize.” And indeed he could. He never liked the attention. He decided that he and Yachi had more in common than he originally thought. Possibly. She was pretty cool, just like had Shouyou mentioned. Something about the way the blonde presented herself made him feel comfortable around her.

“So, first advice of the day – stay away from that group. They’re ferocious, I’m serious. And their ways are – just, ugh, no.” She scrunched up her nose again and Kenma covered his laugh by taking a small sip of his scorching tea, trying not to burn his tongue. “Aaaand they’re out to getcha.”

Kenma barely restrained himself from doing a spit-take. Barely. “What? What did I do? Is it because I somehow offended their queen bee? I’m sorry but I didn’t know anything, what the heck. Are they out to get me coz of that? Do you know how their hierarchy works?” Shit shit shit he forgot all about his ‘social interaction: don’t speak more than necessary’ filter. It just… took him by surprise.

Yachi stared at him, mouth agape, and then burst out in a fit of giggles. “Oh my gosh, you actually know how to let loose! This is such an amazing discovery, I could do a ninety minute long documentary! Do you know why they walk in flocks? It’s—“

Somehow they spent at least ten minutes making ganguro jokes and shit-talking their alleged hierarchy. After the first few jokes, Kenma stopped trying to pretend he had a severe case of pneumonia as they both laughed at the strangest things.

“Okay okay, I’ve been enlightened. Thank you, Yachi-san, you’ve been helpful as always.”

She pressed her palms together, bowing like a monk. “Always a pleasure, Kenma-sama.”

“I’ve got a title upgrade.”

“I know right, this must be the best day of your life!” she giggled and excused herself to make a black coffee for a new customer. Kenma took that time to drink the rest of his lukewarm tea. She returned to him with a different facial expression and Kenma straightened up on his stool.

“I’m serious though. If anyone is going to talk about you it will be that woman. Ayano’s bitchy when she wants to be and you got on her bad side.”

“How so?”

“We used to get along well when she was still okay. Michiyama-san filled in some details. I figured some things out on my own but I could never piece it together.” Yachi traced the top of the counter, lips pursed. “She is bound to hate you because your, uh, accident caused her to lose quite a sum and a man. In other words she didn’t get laid and now she’s out for blood.”

“Will the blood flow, though?” Kenma imagined a brightly-colored purse hurtling towards his head at the speed of 160 kilometers per hour. It would smack against his head and he'd lose balance. As he'd fall to the floor in a slow motion, the ravenous ganguros would pounce. He really wasn’t ready to join any slap fights.

“Nah, I don’t think so. She’s just gonna threaten you, your family, your dog and then spread some nasty lies about you, and those who are gullible will believe her. There’s no escape from that. My condolences,” she added, head bowed.

Kenma stayed silent for a while, coming to terms that his social life was really going to be ruined by some random chick who was pissy that she didn’t get her selfie with Kuroo. His life was really spiralling out of control.

Like, couldn’t she be pissed at the alcohol? Or the fact that she made bets like a complete dumbass?

Now he needed to know everything.

“So she lost money, huh. How did that happen exactly?”

“You mean to tell me that you know nothing about the on-going trend?” Yachi’s eyes went wide as she leaned forward, breaching his personal space.

“Know what? I should tell you that I’m not keeping tabs on any goss—“

“No no no no, it’s not gossip!” Yachi cut him off immediately, face flushed. Beads of sweat gathered at her brow as she wrinkled the hem of her dark green apron with a cartoon pepper printed on it. “It’s a thing everyone won’t shut up about as of late. It’s like an university-wide race and a betting center. I’m sure that if someone had called the police, the participants would be arrested for illegal gambling. And they rightfully should be!” Yachi’s voice rose in pitch. She seemed angry and it attracted some attention to them. “They have no shame! They need to think about the feelings of others before signing up for stupid, immature—“she took a few deep breaths to calm herself.

Kenma bowed his head so that his hair made a double-coloured curtain to hide his face along with his unease. Betting center? Somehow he felt that the next few words would have a huge impact on his outlook on Kuroo, and if his hunch was correct, then—

“They… they’re making bets on who can have a one-night stand with Kuroo. Extra money if it’s a fling which lasts more than three days. Ayano… she… well she claimed that she had a thing for Kuroo – doubtful, don’t you think? Because no person in love would ever do something as disgraceful as that - so she'd changed herself. For the worse.” Yachi seemed sad and disappointed. Maybe those two girls were closer than Yachi had insinuated. “There was a rumor going around. A rumor that Kuroo really likes blond hair and bright hair in general. You wouldn’t believe the amount of people who'd dyed their hair because of that.”

The boy on the barstool braced his elbows against the counter as he covered his face with his palms. Suddenly a lot of things made sense. Especially the ‘blondie toy’ comments. And those had been happening even before the rave. They all thought he was one of those people, a gold-digger desperate for attention and sex.

“…just to clarify, I didn’t-“

“I know. Hinata told me that you’ve been dyeing it since you were sixteen.”

“…okay.”

With an awkward cough, Yachi stopped talking but Kenma waved one hand as a sign that it was okay to continue though it wasn’t. People were horrible and if anything Kenma wanted the humanity to burn at that very moment.

“So, uhm, anyways… Ayano changed herself completely before the rave. The rave was viewed in competition terms. That’s why so many people had attended. I mean a lot of them were invited, but there were some strangers as well.” And how was he supposed to know that, when he didn’t really have any friends and sucked at interacting with others, and now he'd never get the second chance to know because he'd fucked up. “So, Ayano bet a lot that she would go home with Kuroo that night. Her friends bet on her success too. That’s why they are extra mad at you. And right when they were about to drag him out of there, you appeared.”

“…and projectile barfed on him, ruining their chances to get laid and get rich. I see.”

“Well, when you put it like that…?” Yachi sighed and then waved her hands frantically. It was probably a habit. “But no, that’s not all!”

“Oh. There’s more. How wonderful.”

“Uh, Kenma, they all think that you’re the one he chose. You’re probably going to get harassed for that, so watch out.”

The bleached blond wanted to tug on his hair in his frustration. “Well lucky me, not only will I get into trouble for embarrassing myself in public and ruining their Olympics for the golden man, I will also get mistaken for a boy toy. Okay I think I will stop by a store and buy hair dye. “

“I am not certain about the boy toy thing, but… he really did choose you. I think it’s sweet that he brought you with him,” Yachi hummed, biting her lip so she wouldn’t say more than necessary.

Kenma caught that immediately as he straightened up, eyeing the woman before him suspiciously. “And how do you know about that? Don’t tell me the entire campus will find out about that one too.”

“If Kuroo’s friends don’t say anything – nobody will.”

“I’m fucked then.”

“I’m sorry.”

“…Don’t be.” Kenma heaved a sigh and ran a hand through his unfortunate blond hair. The best choice would be dyeing it brown, but he really had grown fond of this colour. If anything the best course of action would be dyeing his hair, changing his name, quitting school and then moving to Antarctica already. Those penguins won’t be there forever with global warming and all. “I’m happy you told me this. Honestly. Now I know what to expect,” he finished, a melancholic gleam flickering in his eyes.

“Look on the bright side – at least you saved him from being an object to bet over. And I’m sure that you found out more about him than you thought you would.” Yachi smiled and pinched his arm, trying to cheer him up.

Those words made heat pool in his stomach as he stared at the screen of his phone for nth time that day. Still nothing new. Yachi seemed to notice the movement and she quirked one eyebrow but didn’t say anything. Her offhand remark made it obvious what she had on her mind though. “Ah! Also, I know that Kuroo always sleeps like a dead man every Monday. He barely moves the whole day! He’s like a cat! Umm, though cats are sweet and fluffy, maybe more of a panther…” she seriously immersed herself in those thoughts and Kenma finally stuffed his phone back into its usual pocket.

So he won’t be getting any texts today, will he?

“…so who is your secret informant?” Kenma asked after a while, sipping on his second order.

Yachi raised an eyebrow and gave back the change to one of the customers. “That’s classified information! And I have my resources.”

“It was Shouyou, wasn’t it.”

The blonde stared at him and shrugged. “Yup.”

Damn it, he so called it.

“You’re best friends. I don’t have to worry that you're going to shave off his hair in his sleep… right?” she added, doubt lacing her voice.

“Only like half a head. Maybe eyebrows too.”

“Make sure you do it properly, he could have a mohawk. Like Yamamoto-san!”

Kenma didn’t ask her when and where she'd met that guy. For a few minutes he held himself pretty well. After that he couldn’t stop bombarding her with questions. Apparently she knew most of the people that Kenma was close to. Just how popular was this girl? Maybe he should start working in the café too? He asked if they were hiring but the answer was negative.

“Inuoka-san is very funny! I like him the most, but don’t tell that to anyone.” She did her information broker pose again when she said that, her voice low. “He comes by quite often! He always brings this nice boy with him. They take one of the window seats and share coffee. I even learned how to make proper heart shaped drawings on foam. They used to look like tiny butts at first… I always look forward to their visits. They talk to me lots so it’s fun spending the less busy days together.” Yachi kept on blabbering and Kenma could pretty much hear himself breathe noisily.

His pulse was thrumming inside his ears and he leaned in. “Do I know the guy?”

“Probably. He knows you though.”

“…What’s his name?”

Thump thump thump. The moment of truth was upon him.

Yachi paused dramatically and inhaled. “I am sorry but this is classified information! Can’t tell you.”

“Wha.” The blond stared, dumbfounded. Oh come on, he was so close too.

Yachi smiled, more like smirked. She was so enjoying this. What a sadist. “Special request from Inuoka-san. They want to keep their relationship a secret from the others.”

Kenma finished his tea in one big gulp, his face twisted as though he took a bite of citrus. He abruptly stood up just as three girls came inside, staring him down. He bid farewell to Yachi and without waiting for a reply speed-walked out of the café.

He and Inuoka definitely had a score to settle.

On his way back to his room, he ran into Yaku.

“Oh good, I was looking for you,” the short man called out and sidled up to him when Kenma stopped abruptly. Yaku’s voice seemed strange – which was kind of weird. Was he having health problems again? “I was on my way to your place, so. Good to see you here. Alone.”

Okay, now he was certain something was wrong, he could bet his gaming consoles on it. Yaku was using the ‘disappointed mom‘ voice with him and that usually meant that he was in a whole lot of trouble.

Suddenly, the world caught up with Kenma, tackled him on the ground in the form of crushing fear and terror and stomped its metaphorical leg hard on Kenma’s equally metaphorical tail, keeping him firmly in place. He fucked up. He couldn’t explain himself. He only hoped that Yaku would understand but the pinched expression twisting up his boyish face had made it quite obvious that he wouldn’t.

He had to try.

“I can really explain myself-“ Kenma tried as he raised his hands up in a show of surrender. The short man’s face darkened until he was openly glaring.

“Then I am certain you will be able to explain this as well. “ He said sternly and lifted up a plastic bag that he was carrying with him. “And it better be a damn good explanation. No more feeding me Lev’s bullshit, am I clear?” He shook the black bag a few more times, his body language betraying his disappointment. Short people were fucking terrifying when they were mad.

With trembling fingers, Kenma reached out and opened it, heart hammering in the back of his throat.

His worst fears were confirmed.

In the bag was his shirt, folded neatly. Right next to it was Inuoka’s M.I.A dress shirt.

How high was he when he entrusted Kuroo with this?

They don’t usually do the laundry. Oh my god, it was bound to happen from the very start.

Yaku’s voice pulled him out of his panicky thoughts. The shorter man cleared his throat. “Kenma, may I have a word with you?”

His life was spiraling out of control faster than those terrifying rides at the amusement park.

Chapter Text

“So I've no reason to threaten him with castration, huh?” Yaku sighed and took a sip of his coffee.

“Uh, I guess that’s what it means, yeah.” Kenma awkwardly scratched the back of his head and tried to shove away his clothes--they had fallen to the floor the moment he risked opening the closet. The dress shirt was folded neatly, hidden in the depths of Inuoka’s drawer. None would be the wiser. At least Kenma will make sure that none of this would be traced back to him. He’d just blame the missing shirt on Inuoka’s bad searching skills.

“Kenma, if he ever lays a finger on you, I’m going to kill him. Without any additional charges. Just give me the word.”

“Thanks, but for now it’s not necessary.”

The shorter brunet eyed him suspiciously. Kenma was glad that he could refocus his attention on something else. He wasn’t too sure whether he was ready to face any judging and analyzing stares just yet. “Seriously. If he turns out to be a dick, I’ll let you do whatever you wish,” Kenma reassured. Yaku nodded, albeit a little too slowly.

After their conversation had lapsed, Yaku sighed yet again--this time sounding less annoyed and more exhausted--and pushed some clothes in Kenma’s direction with the tip of his sneaker. At least he was mindful to not get them dirty. “Alright, you be careful now. I have to go, there’s… someone waiting for me. See you later.”

Kenma wasn’t certain whether he'd actually heard the sound of cracking knuckles or it was simply his imagination playing the fake sound game. Kenma pinned it on the latter.

“Bye. Have a nice day,” he said automatically, cringing at how dull and official it sounded.

“Oh I’ll have a nice day alright.” The shorter man grinned somewhat deviously and left.

Like seriously, what was the worst Yaku could do to someone like Kuroo?

“Oh god, not the face. I have work tomorrow,” Kuroo pleaded, reflexively covering his head with his forearms once Yaku Morisuke had stormed into his room.

“What the-” the guest stopped abruptly and stiffly sat down on the very edge of Kuroo’s bed. “I’m not going to hit you?”

The black-haired man wrinkled his nose at Yaku’s tone, his statement more akin to a question than anything else. It was kind of obvious that the cat was out of the bag. He didn’t need to be a genius to notice it. After all, it wasn’t every day that Yaku barged into his room, seemingly breathing fire. Kuroo was determined to postpone his imminent death as much as he could. “First of all, I’m indecent. Can’t you knock?”

“You’re indecent eighty percent of the time. I won’t see anything that I haven’t already.”

“Yaku, you dog.”

“Save it.” The other bristled and crossed his arms. “I heard,” he spoke up after a while and Kuroo barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes. Just barely.

“Oh, amazing, you can hear. Congrats. Should I ask for some input or wait?”

“Don’t press your luck.” Yaku glared, a venomous stare that forced even the bravest men cower in fear before his Majesty. Kuroo was no different as he balked, a soft ‘sorry, sir’ escaping his lips. He pulled his mountain of blankets closer to his body. Seriously, if Yaku intended to whip him, literally or figuratively, he’d better do it fast because he wasn’t really ready for any guilt trips or the classical 'disappointed mom' stares. Apparently Yaku thought the same, which was a miracle in itself.

“Kuroo, I swear to Buddha, Jesus, Allah and every deity above that is currently listening to me right now, if you even try to hurt Kenma in any way, I will personally destroy your life and you do not want that.” And damn, did Yaku always look so intimidating at his 165 centimeters? Because suddenly he seemed way bigger than Kuroo in every sense of the word. “I don’t want to make enemies. Not with you, Tetsurou.”

He wasn’t sure as to what he was supposed to say back. Of course, the feeling of apprehension was to be expected. But the thing was that—

“I've never considered hurting him,” the taller one stated, eyes focused on his non-existing fingernails--damn, those nail chewing habits were seriously hard to get rid off, he barely restrained himself from doing it yet again--and raised himself up, stretching the kinks out of his body. “I need a smoke. Join me?” he asked, fully knowing that he’d refuse. Yaku was a bit of a health freak, certain that smoking was to blame when he never grew any taller-- desperately, he still clung to that slim ray of hope though it was quite obvious that it wouldn’t happen anytime soon.

“You need to quit,” Yaku grumbled, yet obediently followed. Kuroo only scratched at the bare skin of his thigh, slightly pulling on the elastic band of his boxers.

“Yeah well, I need to quit a lot of things. Just like you need to quit poking your nose into my personal life,” Kuroo countered moodily. He’s never been a fan of people who wanted to know everything about him, from his considerably shitty past to bedroom matters. He couldn’t really blame Yaku though. “Listen, man, Kenma’s a big boy now. He can take care of himself just fine.”

“That’s what you said about Sawamura too.”

“Sawamura was a mistake,” Kuroo hummed and lit the cancer stick, inhaling slowly. Damn, good stuff. Always relaxed him enough to get him all sappy and personal. “Fuck that, all of them were a big misunderstanding but you don’t see them complaining.”

Yaku stared at him incredulously. Either Kuroo was dense and oblivious or he simply ignored his exes hunting down his ass in all the wrong ways. “Whatever you say,” he exhaled through his mouth and held his breath so that no smoke could filter into his lungs. Mindful of his friend's growing discomfort, Kuroo moved to the side so that the smoke could carry in a different direction. “It’s Kenma, Tetsurou. I've known him for a very long time and I’ve seen the shit he had to go through. And let me tell you, it wasn’t easy. I watched him grow in that corrupted environment–”

“Wow, okay mom, slow the heck down.” Kuroo blew out, eager to end Yaku’s speech. “No need to get sentimental here, alright? We all had our fair share of crap to deal with, but now is now, so how 'bout you let go of your son’s hand?”

“Mom…?” Morisuke knit his eyebrows and made a face. “I think the term you're looking for is ‘older brother figure'.”

Kuroo snorted but covered it with a few small coughs, hiding his smirk behind his fingers, gnawing on the orange filter. “I meant what I said, momma. An older brother would, you know, give the younger one some breathing space.” He gestured, purposefully dragging out the word 'space'. “And you’re kind of smothering him.”

A palm stabbed Kuroo right under the ribs. He yelped indignantly, almost dropping the cigarette. “Ow, what the hell?”

“You asked for it.”

“What, no.”

“And now you’re just begging for it.” Yaku’s eyes flashed like a ferocious animal’s as the abusive hand formed a tight fist. Kuroo quieted immediately.

“You know, you’re not cute at all.” The black-haired man took one last drag and killed the embers on the overflowing ashtray precariously stationed on the ledge of the tiny balcony. “No wonder no one wants to date you.”

Yaku would’ve drop-kicked him if he were a jumper or perhaps a tiny bit taller, but the man kind of had a point though Morisuke never agonized over it. He was fine with the way things were. No hectic feelings to mess with his daily routine. Perfect.

God, he was so alone.

He was lost in his own insignificant thoughts, getting seriously startled when Kuroo’s stupid face blocked the view. “What’s with that look? Lev’s not enough for you?” he teased, a nasty smirk curling his lips. Yaku coughed violently.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re excused.” He pulled that trademark wry face, enjoying Yaku’s state of being which could be described as a flurry of gagging coughs. “Isn’t that your type? Tall and intimidating.”

“I-I’ve only ever dated girls, asshole.” Morisuke wheezed out and rubbed his sore throat.

“My point still stands.”

After at least a minute of gargling, the shorter man got back some semblance to breath, dignity non-counting. The back of his neck felt uncomfortably hot and he could only hope that his burning ears weren’t visible to Kuroo. If they were, he had no way of knowing because Kuroo didn’t comment for the sake of messing with him even further. That slight tilt of his mouth was all kinds of deceiving.

“Let’s say that for the first time in my life I took you seriously,” Yaku began, completely ignoring Kuroo’s whiny ‘hey!’. “How the hell did you come up with this shit? That guy, really? How do you imagine me dating that?”

To be honest he was kinda, sorta, not really, but maybe just a tad, curious about it. About Lev. Sickened yet curious. Something was very wrong with this logic.

“Wow, Yaku, that’s kinda rude. Don’t ask me about how I imagine it, you don’t wanna know. Hint hint--it involves a dog collar.”

Sickened. Very much so.

“Gross.” Yaku pulled a face yet Kuroo only laughed.

“Haha, told you. Other than the disturbingly BDSM view that I just conjured within my grossly depraved  imagination, I can actually see it happening.” He sounded so honest that it made Yaku think that the other was actually serious. “You two sleep in the same bed.”

Fuck.

“H-How’d you find out?” the brunet croaked indignantly, his face positively burning. Whoever let this spread he’ll find them and—

“Let’s just say that your favorite pillow and my favorite lamppost has a big mouth. Not that I know about that one for sure so you don’t have to worry.”

Oh he will end him. Fucking Haiba Lev. What an asshole. Yaku won’t ever buy his whines that the guy was scared of thunder – though this statement was blatantly true, he never got any proper sleep because of that particular phobia his roommate had and it only stopped when he offered Lev to crawl into his really damn small bed - or had a nightmare about local yakuza chasing him because he wasn’t Japanese enough.

“You’re sure you never thought about dating him?” Kuroo asked, his eyebrows raised so high they were almost disappearing into his hairline. He no longer seemed that entertained. “You’re kind of red there, pal.”

“D-Don’t you turn this around, Tetsurou,” Yaku grumbled, trying to salvage the remains of what little dignity he usually held himself with, only to realize that he had lost all of it. “I didn’t come here to listen to this bullshit or get a potential date.”

“Right. You’re here to threaten me. Whoops, slipped my mind completely,” Kuroo said, slightly bored, and walked into the room, rubbing his forearms to warm up. “And I’ll tell ya again – let it go. Drop this subject completely, Morisuke.”

“But-“

“I’m serious.” Kuroo turned around and pinned him with a dark look that he only saved for especially intense volleyball games or whenever Bokuto broke something of his. It radiated this cool calmness and despite Yaku’s slightly motherly instincts calling he felt oddly reassured. “I want this. I want him, Yaku and there’s jack shit you can do about it.”

“Greedy bastards like you always get dumped first and I think you know why,” Morisuke stated and made his way to the door, ready to leave. He had nothing else left to say and if there was that one thing gnawing at the back of his mind, he decided to keep it to himself. He didn’t want to drop any baseless accusations on his friend, plus he didn’t really know if it was a potential threat to what could evolve into an actual relationship later on. If Kuroo was serious, that is. Yaku still wasn’t completely convinced and doubted that he ever would be.

Right then Kuroo’s phone went off. Morisuke froze in the doorway and waited for the taller man to fish the device out of the pocket of his jeans dropped somewhere among the clothes piled on the ground – Yaku barely restrained the urge to grab a broom and clean this place up.

The ‘pleased douchebag’ grin that lit Kuroo’s face when he saw who was calling and the casual ‘hey, babe!’ he chirped into the speaker followed by ‘someone’s a little feisty today’ were more than enough for Yaku to mouth ‘my point exactly’.

Kuroo’s attention was focused elsewhere so he didn’t even notice. Hell, he didn’t even notice that his friend had left until it was far too late.

He’d stop this before it even took an actual shape. He refused to let Kenma suffer.

The next day went by exactly the same for Kenma. Boring lectures followed by equally boring homework that had been unashamedly piled on him, slowly burying him. Boring gossip and slightly less boring and more concerning loss of friends. Kunimi, as he had predicted, refused to look his way whenever they passed each other by on the campus grounds, and some people he kind of got along with not so subtly asked him how it felt to get fucked by Kuroo. Needless to say they didn’t believe him when Kenma started stuttering explanations that it wasn’t like that at all. The ganguros were still after him and Kenma was glad that they hadn’t set his textbooks on fire or something like that.

By the end of the day he felt like shit, too tired to drag himself to 'Red Pepper' and vent to Yachi. He decided to go back to his room, bury himself under blankets and pretend that he’s dead. Maybe catch a few Zs too. Homework? What homework? Essays? Not due tomorrow – who cares.

Kenma was slightly surprised to see no death threats stuck to the back of the door and even more so when he saw it slightly ajar.

He was pretty damn certain that Inuoka would return only later and didn’t they lock the door this morning? Or had they both forgotten to do it?

Oh shit what if the whole ‘no thieves at the hobo side of the campus’ thing was fake. Now that Kenma rephrased it inside his mind it kind of did seem stupid and far too gullible.

He froze, hands going just a little numb as he wondered whether he should open the door or ask someone else to do it for him. The latter option seemed a bit foolish, but then again he could use some mental support because holy shit he had some valuable stuff there, for example his PSP. How would he live without that? Or his laptop, or—

A muffled giggle could be heard from the inside and Kenma’s anxiety popped like a bubble as he slowly pushed the door open. If his gut wasn’t lying to him, then behind this door he would find…

He felt his eyes pretty much popping out of his eye sockets and oh boy if he felt like his day couldn’t get any weirder – it just did.

Kenma couldn’t believe what he was seeing so he rubbed his eyes for clarification. The view did not change however and now the short boy that Inuoka was hugging close, the same boy that Kenma knew all too well, was staring back, seemingly shrinking under the blond’s scrutinizing gaze.

The boy was deathly pale while Kenma was rapidly turning a shade darker than his blood red hoodie and Inuoka remained blissfully oblivious, face pretty much glued to his lover’s shoulder.

Welp. It was far too late to walk out and pretend he didn’t see anything so Kenma cleared his throat. “Uh. Hey there, Yuuki,” he greeted the black-haired boy awkwardly and watched his face change from chalk-white to beet-red in the matter of seconds. He looked even more uncomfortable than Kenma felt as he looked aside and stuttered out a meek ‘h-h-hi’.

Inuoka let out a cross between a strangled gasp and a surprised yell and almost fell from the bed in his haste to shield the shorter one with his back. “Oh!” was all he said and his smile seemed so forced that Kenma would’ve laughed if this weren’t so damn serious.

“Oh indeed.”

“I can explain!” Inuoka whined and really did fall off the bed as Kenma only shook his head to the sides.

“Really now,” the blond said, curtly. If he were any bolder he would’ve groaned and rolled his eyes while he was at it. But he wasn’t so he only shuffled awkwardly, uncertain where to look. “I’ll… wow, I’ll just, uh, go now.”

Thankfully his roommate didn’t follow.

He needed some time to wrap his mind around the fact that Inuoka Sou was dating Shibayama Yuuki of all the people.

Not that it was that unexpected but it suddenly dawned on Kenma how thin the line between friendship and love was. He wondered just how many of his friends had crossed it or were at least walking the line.

He was far too stressed to go back and Shouyou was out frolicking with Kageyama so hanging out with them was completely out of the question. Plus the way Shouyou had phrased sounded like it was an unofficial ‘man-date’ so Kenma would obviously be thirdwheeling and as good as he was at that, the mere thought of trailing behind someone today just didn’t appeal to him that much.

Even if it meant not being able to talk about his personal bullshit problems with his best friend. Like he was at least okay with that, but Kageyama would inevitably be there and he still didn’t feel comfortable enough being around him, no less talking to him. The guy was just too intimidating. However, the orange haired boy did promise to listen to him when he found some free time to spare. He was more than eager to find out all the juicy details that all of his friends had left out. Apparently rumors flew far and wide.

Kenma considered himself lucky, being so close to someone who was so popular they barely had any time for their best friend. Right.

He wasn’t desperate enough to call Yamamoto and join him and Tanaka to go creep on Kiyoko.

However he was desperate enough to whine his way into Akaashi’s room.

Now don’t get him wrong, it wasn’t in his plans and the stoic man had offered it himself. Kenma had been sulking on the front stairs, contemplatively staring into the distance and counting all of possible best-friends-turned-lovers couples (he counted eleven different outcomes, some of them slightly less disturbing than others) when Akaashi returned. It was around 7 pm., the sky was considerably bright and the brunet had asked if everything was alright.

Despite his hatred for social interactions and human contact in general, Akaashi was incredibly perceptive and could tell that something was off immediately, even if he didn’t know the person too well.

And since Kenma didn’t fancy sitting on the stairs until Yuuki left – and wouldn’t that be awkward, Inuoka’s lover leaving only to find his roommate patiently sitting and waiting for him to leave, what would his excuse be, like; oh sorry it was too gay in there so I ran? You’re sucking face with my roommie whom I thought was straight this whole time but that’s chill? – so he took up Akaashi’s offer for some coffee or tea.

Akaashi’s room, just like Kenma had expected, was neat and orderly, maybe too orderly for his tastes. When he stepped inside to toe off his sneakers, the room’s master quickly brushed past him and shoved something big and black into his closet, quickly locking it.

Whatever it was, it seemed that Akaashi obviously didn’t want the dyed blond to see it and he was totally cool with that but now it had made him curious.

Kinda seemed like a guitar case?

He ignored those gnawing thoughts and eased into a comfortable conversation with the taller brunet, sipping on his tea which had way too much sugar than it was healthy, just the way he liked, feeling himself relax.

Just like the rest of the people out there, Akaashi had been curious about the rumors regarding him and Kuroo, however he didn’t pry and heard Kenma out. Properly. Without interrupting him every three seconds.

“I guess he can actually be at least a little decent when he tries,” the brunet hummed and looked outside the window, the steam that was coming from his cup of black coffee carving the air with white swirls. “Kuroo’s not someone I would trust, not even if my life depended on it, but in your case… seems like it’s different. “ He pinned Kenma with a meaningful stare as if hoping for some further elaboration on the subject but Kenma refused to tell the man about his feelings. The less people knew - the better.

“It’s always better to hear the story from the people who actually know what happened, unlike Koutarou, who—” suddenly Akaashi hiccuped, his face turning a shade of bright pink as he looked to the side once he realized his error.

Kenma mentally added one more couple to the possibly endless list.

A few hours later he bid Akaashi good night and scrammed to his room which was, thankfully, empty – the joys of having a great view from Akaashi’s room – and didn’t include any suspicious mess of crumpled sheets on Inuoka’s bed. Kenma figured that Inuoka was too innocent for stuff like that and he had witnessed it himself. The joys of pure love, oh man.

He changed into more comfortable clothes and fell face forward onto his bed.

Time passed and Kenma kept on tossing and turning, his plan to go to sleep forgotten. Somehow his thoughts were traveling back to a certain individual who still haven’t texted him since the last time they saw each other. Maybe Kuroo was simply busy with work? He had no way of knowing, hell, only now did the blond realize that he knew so little about his crush. The stories he had heard were tiny specks in an endless universe. Universe which he had yet to discover.

The more he thought about it, the more his stomach clenched and after a while Kenma realized that it wasn’t because he was feeling lovesick or anything like that. He was hungry. Starving, actually.

He hadn’t eaten anything proper since this morning, that granola bar non-counting.

The complete and utter lack of junk food inside his room stabbed him in the heart like a knife.

And so he decided to go out and hunt for some tasty sugary nutriment that would clog his arteries before he turned thirty.

He snuck out of his dorm and tip-toed like three kilometers to the nearest 24/7 convenience store. Kenma had been so immersed into shoving sweets, crunchy food and a whole lot of instant noodles into his cart that he hadn’t even noticed he was the only one here, which would have, on normal circumstances, freaked him out. He’s seen more than enough horror movies.

However nothing, and he meant nothing, could ever prepare him for what he saw over the top of packets covering him and interfering with his field of vision.

At first it seemed like a casual mop of black hair which was not so unusual coz, hello, Japan, so he didn’t think too much into it, but once he lowered the pile to take a better look, his mountain had toppled and one after another Kenma’s packs of beloved puffy white marshmallows hit the black tiles. The guy behind the counter almost jumped over it to help him out, not that he wanted to, he was just too afraid of something spilling and having to clean the mess up.

“Jesus Christ kid, watch it. Isn’t it a bit too late for you to be…here…” the cashier trailed off and Kenma was met with a pair of painfully familiar eyes.

Kuroo Tetsurou, dressed in a forest green apron, was crouching before him, holding onto one corner of his marshmallow pack while Kenma was holding the other.

“Kenma?” he questioned and as always that voice sent a shiver down the blond’s spine, though it completely lacked the usual mischievous undertones and seemed honestly confused.

Kenma swallowed, not sure what to say. He only nodded dumbly.

The black-haired man chuckled, looking to the sides to see if anyone was around. They were alone. “What are you doing here?”

Kenma shot him a blank stare as he pulled the pack out of his fingers and placed it back on the top of the pile. “Camping,” he answered, a tad sarcastically. Damn, why did his face have to flush so much?

“I can see that,” Kuroo replied, his nose scrunched up as he looked over the unhealthy stack of sweets. Kenma wondered what his problem was. How could one live their lives without appreciating the importance of sugar? He threw a few more packs on Kenma’s pile and inspected a cup of instant noodles that had rolled further away. “And where are you going exactly? The Himalayas? Let me guess, for a month.”

“A week,” Kenma corrected and stood up, slowly picking up the top of his trembling pile and placing it on the counter. Kuroo whistled as he looked the blond over, making him feel incredibly self-conscious.

“And where does it all go?”

“Quick metabolism.”

“Aren’t you a charmer.”

“You asked so I answered.” The blond noticed that something had changed in him. Rather than that, something changed between them. It was becoming easier to talk to him and Kenma didn’t exactly remember the last person to whom he had warmed up so quickly. It seemed as though he and Kuroo had been friends for as long as he could remember. He quickly shook his head to the sides. The best friend-lover trope got to him too much.

Kuroo didn’t ask for anything else as he jumped over the counter – Kenma was surprised he didn’t splat against the floor – and actually got to work.

Suddenly it dawned on Kenma that the ‘rich kid’ Kuroo wasn’t, in fact, a rich kid at all. He was working at convenience store of all the places. Who would’ve thought? And how come did no one know about this? He wanted to ask him some things but Kuroo beat him to it by criticizing his food choices. Again. Was he a health freak too? Didn’t really seem like one. “Please tell me you don’t actually plan to eat all of this.”

“I don’t,” Kenma answered and pointed at a bag of pretzels, an apology for Inuoka. “These are for my roommate.”

“And the rest? A secret army you’re gathering?”

“However did you know that my life-goal is to destroy the system? Please don’t sell me out,” Kenma pleaded dryly. Kuroo only stared with wide eyes, slightly taken aback, making the shorter one fidget. A second later he burst out laughing, though, the sound drowning out some song playing quietly on the radio. Kenma’s cheeks heated.

“Oh man, you don’t actually have a stick up your ass. They sooo lied to me.” Kuroo kept on laughing, truly laughing instead of his usual evil witch-like cackling and Kenma wanted to get him to stop but he didn’t know how to. A brilliant idea popped into his mind.

“So now that you know why I’m here, can I ask you why you’re here?”

Kuroo punched in a few numbers, his eyes avoiding Kenma’s all the while. “Working. A man’s gotta eat, right? Being an adult is expensive.”

For once Kuroo actually sounded overwhelmingly earnest and Kenma felt his heartbeat pick up the pace. Yet a tiny part inside his head still whispered: aw, he actually thinks of himself as an adult. How adorable.

“And I gotta pay back for stuff Bokuto and Lev broke when they decided to go cart-wheeling at 3 am. Assholes rammed into one of the shelves and bailed once Lev sensed ‘a disturbance in the force’. I’m the one who needs to work off their debts,” Kuroo grumbled but the tiny smile that graced his lips told Kenma that the guy wasn’t regretting it one bit.

The tiny voice spoke up louder: my point exactly.

“That’s very unfortunate?” Kenma tried to console him but he had to admit to himself that the image his mind had conjured was pretty hilarious. “I’m surprised they didn’t kick you out.”

Kuroo snorted at that. “Oh yeah, this is the first time and I’ve been working part-times since I was seventeen. The guy who owns the store is just plain awesome for not hauling me out. Kinda looks like a punk, maybe you’ve seen him before. Blond hair, headband, piercings, mean look on his face.”

The dyed blond mussed over it and remembered that he had indeed seen someone like that. The guy seemed like he was ready to throw the broom he had been holding right at Shouyou’s face because the other had been making too much noise. “He’s the owner?”

“Technically his mom is, but he’s the one in charge. Gives students wonky shifts because he’s sour he never got into college. Doesn’t want to ruin our lives. I usually take the night ones, uni’s interfering. Today this glasses kid was supposed to be working but he got sick or something.” Kuroo waited for Kenma to take out his wallet and pay for his groceries. An old man came inside through the sliding doors and waved at Kuroo who only smiled back. He turned back to Kenma. “Is that all, dear customer?” he chirped and fluttered his eyelashes. Kenma shoved a strawberry flavored candy into his pocket. The bag was overflowing and he was pretty certain that the plastic would tear from the weight.

“Yeah, that’s—uh. I’m going now, I guess.” Kenma looked towards the exit and Kuroo actually leaned back, a pout twisting his face.

“Aw, c’mon, you came all this way and now you want to leave? At least keep me company for like twenty minutes.”

Kenma glanced at the clock hanging on one of the plain walls. It was only a few minutes after midnight. He figured that he could entertain Kuroo some more.

“Twenty minutes,” he said reluctantly. “No more than that.”

“Perfect,” the taller man all but purred in content and kicked out a chair from under the counter. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Kenma didn’t even notice how twenty minutes had turned into three hours. With Kuroo time seemingly flied by and they always had a topic to discuss – Kuroo did most of the talking while Kenma sat there, wordlessly nodding and humming every once in a while.

The blond could proudly say that he had discovered a few more stars in that vast universe. No thanks to him though. It was Kuroo who had told him everything on his own accord.

“So you don’t work? Man, life must be pretty good for you. Or pretty boring. Well-off family who loves you a lot?”

“No. My step-dad owns a meat shop back in my hometown. I work there during the break so I earn quite a bit.”

Kuroo eyed him suspiciously. Kenma could only sigh. “I’m not skewering anything. I mostly move the boxes or work at the cash register.”

“Luckily for you I’m not a PETA activist or a hardcore vegetarian, but damn, next time I piss you off I better remember that you know how to wield a knife.”

Kenma didn’t bother to correct him that he’s never worked with the meat he sold. He never had to slice or dice anything because his step-dad had discovered that Kenma couldn’t wield sharp objects even if his life depended on it – and he had learned it the hard way after that accident when Kenma almost sliced off his finger and had to be rushed to the hospital. Kenma preferred it to remain this way. Inspiring some fear in others was oddly… uplifting.

And as for Kuroo…

Kenma had been keen to find out about his past jobs, seeing as he himself never worked anywhere else other than the meat shop.

“I really wanted to work at that bar where the rave took place. Akiteru, Tsukishima’s brother—oh you know him? Yeah well we go way back so he got in a good word for me to his boss. It all went smoothly and it was most likely my fave part-time as of yet. I learned everything pretty quickly, but—“

(It all seemed like it was yesterday.

‘You broke three bottles of tequila.’ Akiteru had been enraged, after all, he was the one put in charge of his friend. He even had his hands placed on his hips and Kuroo knew that now was not the time to fuck around, but it had been pretty hilarious and Akiteru was a total buzzkill. He obviously noticed how not sorry the younger one was. ‘What do you have to say for yourself?’

He had been trying to impress this big-boobed lady sitting on a barstool and giving him the bedroom eyes. He decided to court her by juggling the said bottles. He hadn’t known that they were that expensive. Also Kuroo hadn’t expected them to be heavy. One of those rascals almost smashed his toe.

Kuroo tried to hide his snickering by plastering on his best serious face. ‘Oops, butter fingers.’

‘Was the spit-take on that guy also part of your ‘butter fingers’!?’

‘Dude, first of all, who the fuck goes to this joint for business meetings? Like seriously. This is a shady ass bar mostly fit for raves. And second, he totally had it coming for wearing that suit in public.’

‘Damn it, Kuroo, that guy wrote an essay of complaints and I almost got fired because I can’t keep your ass in check.’

‘I will not apologize for doing everyone a favor and getting rid of that disgusting thing.’)

“And there was also that one time I worked near the beach in a fast food diner, Bokuto totally wrecked that one—”

(Kuroo always loved the beach during summertime. The sun, the sand, the ocean, the sexy people, beach volleyball… what was there not to love? Of course when he saw the ‘looking for new staff members’ plastered on one diner he went right in.

Everything was chill, though it was a bit annoying because he had to stand the entire shift since people came and went all the time. There was no time to rest. The only up sides of this job were, as he mentioned before, the beach and the amount of phone numbers he got.

The boss was lenient enough to let him have his much needed smoke breaks and once he had gone outside during a particularly busy Saturday afternoon he was surprised to see his best friend sitting on the stairs of the diner’s back entrance, back pressed against the wall. Kuroo almost dropped his lighter.

‘What are you doing here?’ he questioned, startling the man. Bokuto only looked up, smiling sheepishly.

‘Uh… stealing your Wi-Fi?’

Kuroo raised an eyebrow at that. ‘It’s password protected. Where’d you get that?’

Bokuto frowned, his lower lip sticking out childishly. ‘You told me, genius. Last night.’

‘I think I would remember something like that.’

‘Man, you were gone faster than Tora when he sees Kiyoko-chan walking by. Do you even have a clue what happened?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Tell me the blondie’s name.’

‘Uh… Hi… Hiji… okay, you got me.’

‘Hell yesss. I always do. So how long are you staying?’

Kuroo checked his phone. He had four minutes left. He lit the cigarette dangling from his lips. ‘Till I finish this.’

Bokuto pulled a disgusted face. ‘That’s unhealthy.’

‘Your eyebrows are unhealthy but you don’t see me complaining or threatening you with tweezers.’

‘Asshole. Anyways I’m playing this real cool online game, bless this baby. So don’t sell me out man, I’m about to level up.’

Kuroo crouched down, stared at the screen of his friend’s phone and made a fatal mistake. ‘What’s this one about? I swear if it’s another perverted dating sim, you’re on panini diet for the rest of the month.’

‘No, not the panini diet,’ Bokuto actually whined. When didn’t he, though? ‘And it wasn’t that bad.’

‘Bokuto, she fucked a horse. A horse.’

‘Ah, I’ll shut up now. ‘Kay, so there’s this kingdom and these guys are—’

--

The two of them were so immersed in the game that they didn’t even notice that Kuroo’s shift was almost ending. Not the break – the shift. Bokuto only rose up when his battery threatened to give out completely. He suddenly whirled around. ‘Oh fuck, you missed work. You better go explain yourself and I’ll be… on my way, ‘kay bye!’ the asshole ran away before the black-haired man had the chance to react to those words properly.

Kuroo had a minor freak-out.

He went inside with his heart beating wildly and came face to face with one pissed boss.

‘Where were you?’ she hissed and if Kuroo was a lesser man he would’ve gotten on his knees and begged her for forgiveness. She had that authoritative air around her that made you obey immediately.

He tried to play it cool. Unsuccessfully. He sounded like an even bigger asshole than he actually was. ‘Uh, smoke break.’

‘You were gone for two hours.’

‘Would you believe me if I told you that I’m an avid chain smoker?’

The only response he got was ‘fired.’

Bokuto went on panini diet for two months as a penalty.)

Kenma had to tenderly shake Kuroo from his trance. He had been staring into the distance an awful lot. “I’m guessing that the part-time experience wasn’t a pleasant one for you.”

“True enough,” Kuroo sighed and picked up some papers from one of the drawers. Kenma tried to not stare too much when he started to gnaw on the pen. “You know why this job is awesome? You can catch up on the shit you missed. Probably the best place to bullshit essays.”

“I don’t think that’s allowed? Isn’t this considered slacking off? There are cameras here.” Kenma gestured to the shining lenses directed their way. “I don’t think you’re even allowed to have me over like this.”

“Nah, chill. It’s fine. Don’t tell anyone but these have been broken for at least a month but old man Ukai never gets around to fixing them. Too much of a hassle plus extra money. Unless you’re planning to rob the store right now and you actually have a knife in the pocket. You do not have those right?” Kuroo questioned again, voice laced with suspicion yet the mirthful look in his black eyes betrayed playfulness.

“I have a gun. Does that work?”

“Oh I’m sure you do, big boy.” Kuroo winked and watched Kenma squirm, his face flushing slightly. Damn he could barely keep his hands to himself. “Anyways I have a question. It’s super serious.”

“…Shoot.”

“Do you have any idea how to cook? Like real food. Do you remember the taste of it? Or are you taking the word junkie to a whole new level?”

“You’re about to give me the ‘shoveling this crap into your body is satanic’ speech, aren’t you?”

“Depends on your answer,” Kuroo clicked his tongue and focused all of his attention on his companion.

“Believe it or not I know how to make food,” Kenma said, enjoying the pleased surprise on Kuroo’s face while it lasted. He felt so useless it was kind of pathetic. “I’m quite skilled in the fine arts of boiling water and microwaving. Sometimes I take out the bread from the breadbox.”

“That bad, huh,” Kuroo merely sighed, lost in thought. Kenma played with a loose thread on his jeans.

Damn it, he just wasn’t good at house chores. There was nothing to be done about it. He tried to learn them, but it always ended up with windows shattering, brooms flying, vases breaking and Christmas lights exploding. After setting the counter on fire, a brand new counter by the way, he took up his mother's advice and gave up completely. It was like he was cursed or something.

“Well, Kenma, you can’t exactly go on with your life thinking that a marshmallow is a vegetable. Which is not, so don’t be surprised. When was the last time you ate something that wasn’t stir fried or even worse, instant made.” He would’ve responded with something biting but Kuroo wasn’t playing around and Kenma heard actual concern lacing his smooth voice.

“I have a roommate who cooks.”

“Is it good?”

“I won’t say.” Kenma quickly looked away. “It’s rude to talk about other’s cooking skills.”

“Okay, then let me rephrase that – how’s my food?”

Now the blond was sure that he could not bring himself to look in Kuroo’s general direction. He didn’t want to betray the man’s expectations once more.

“It’s… really good,” Kenma trailed off, the ‘good’ he had uttered so silently that it could be barely heard. He sank deeper into his hoodie, shoulders hunched. He was glad for the curtain of his hair once more for lessening his field of vision.

He closed his eyes, unable to control his embarrassment and heard some shuffling. Kenma warily opened one amber eye only to find Kuroo crouching down before him for the second time that night.

“Then it settles it,” the black-haired man said calmly, never breaking their eye contact. “This weekend you’re coming over and I feed you properly. How does that sound? Y-you are free this weekend right?” It seemed as though he himself was starting to fumble. “I-If you’re not, just tell me, we can go for some other day?”

The tip of his nose turns a bit pink when he’s flustered, Kenma thought dreamily and his mouth moved on its own. “U-Uhm, the weekend’s fine…with me…” he trailed off and leaned back, suddenly startled by the lack of space between them. “Saturday is a b-bit better though…”

Kuroo clapped his knees and jumped up. “Yeah, perfect. That is, uh... I guess I’ll see you this weekend. You still have my shirt and hoodie, don’t forget that. Though it seems that the hoodie is well liked.“ Kuroo grinned as he looked Kenma over and with bone-chilling and mind-blowing fear the blond suddenly realized that he had exchanged his dark red hoodie into—

He was wearing Kuroo's friggin’ hoodie, wasn’t he?

He hadn’t paid any attention to it at all, it was so natural that he kind of—

“I-I have to get g-g-going now!” he squeaked and stumbled out of his chair, his face colored at least five shades of red, almost purple. This was so so so embarrassing oh no, he had let Kuroo see him, see his total and complete weakness for wearing the taller one’s clothes. But was it truly his fault? He hadn’t expected to run into Kuroo fucking Tetsurou while getting much needed junk food provisions. Hell, if he had known that it was a possibility, he would’ve dressed in his best clothes or something. “I have an early class tomorrow, uhh… see you!”

“See ya, Kenma. Don’t fall on your way out and watch out for creeps.” The guy waved at him but the blond didn’t look back. He could hear the shit-eating grin in Kuroo's tone. Kenma was certain that he would turn into a pile of embarrassed mush if he risked a glance.

When he sneaked back inside, Inuoka soundly snoozing away in his bed, Kenma felt his phone buzz. He took it out and immediately tossed it aside as though it was a bomb, pulling the hoodie over his head so that his eyes weren’t visible.

Sent: 03.16 am
From: (unknown)
To: Me

You look good in it.

He saved the phone in his contact book along with the message, well…

Because of obvious reasons.

Chapter Text

Time seemed to fly by for Kenma. It felt as though someone had tampered with all the clocks in his presence. He completely ignored everyone around him, the nasty glares they sent his way, followed by biting comments. None of them mattered, not when he felt like he had won a lottery. The rest were just jealous. It was only natural.

All of his friends could tell that he was unusually cheerful by the minimal dents in his well crafted pokerface. He talked a little less, too lost in his thoughts but he was way more attentive, sometimes smiling a bit too much than usual.

Only Yaku didn’t seem very happy with the sudden changes that had befallen Kenma.

Inuoka was wary of him at first. For the following few days he was unusually fidgety and kept glancing the blond’s way, wringing his hands as though he was barely restraining himself from latching onto Kenma’s ankles and not letting go until he offered any sort of explanation for running away and refusing to talk to him – well, Kenma wasn’t the most talkative person out there to begin with, but this was becoming too much for the taller man to bear. Not to mention he couldn’t tell how Kenma felt about this whole ordeal.

He cornered him Thursday evening and actually hugged Kenma’s legs and refused to let go much to Kenma’s mild surprise. He could predict the future, what an amazing discovery.

“I’m sorryyyyy,” Inuoka whined and held on tighter as Kenma not so subtly tried to shake him off. “Are you mad? Please don’t be mad! This silence is driving me insane.”

“What?” Kenma stared, shocked yet still annoyed by the invasion of his privacy. “I’m not mad, so shut up. I just had a lot on my mind as of late, that’s why I didn’t really talk to you. Plus I got like three essays to write. Besides, why would I even mind? It’s just Shibayama.”

The tiny tears that have been welling up in the corners of Inuoka’s big puppy-like eyes dried in a second. “So you really don’t mind?”

“Yeah. Date whoever you want, I don’t care.”

“You’re the best!” the brunet squealed and hugged him even tighter. And man did he hug tight. He let go just as fast once he saw Kenma’s glare and settled for staring at him instead. “But don’t tell anyone who I’m seeing. Yuu-chan’s very shy and I don’t want him to feel uncomfortable.” Inuoka frowned slightly and straightened up.

Kenma bit his lower lip. It was a bit too late for that.

“S-sure.”

He had reported the discovery to his best friend already.

His meeting with Shouyou had been an utter disaster. Despite everything, he still felt better after getting all of that weight off his chest.

He had told his friend everything, saucy details excluded. However, by then Hinata knew him well enough to guess the rest and Kenma didn’t exactly do a splendid job at covering everything up. Plus he could feel his face flush whenever he thought about those little intimate gestures and looks he and Kuroo had shared and if that hadn’t been a dead giveaway then he didn’t know what was.

Shouyou had pretty much vibrated on the small sofa he’d been occupying, his face painted in layers of excitement and happiness for his friend. They had decided to meet up in ‘Red Pepper’. That had probably been a bad idea because the entire time Kenma could see Yachi trying to listen in on their conversation, but Shouyou had demanded for coffee and sweets and claimed that he needed to talk to the mentioned girl anyways.

When Kenma told him about his run in with Kuroo at the convenience store – Shouyou was aware of Kuroo’s night job and Kenma felt a pang of betrayal in his heart because his best friend never mentioned it – the orange haired boy raised his hands in the air and not so silently said ‘praise the lord’. Kenma practically pounced over the small table separating them to shut him up. Immediately everyone’s attention was on them and that wasn’t good. The blond threatened his friend with suffocation.

Shouyou merely laughed against his palm and pat his shoulder with a muffled ‘you can let go, I won’t say it again’. Reluctantly, Kenma obliged.

“This is even better than dramas like ‘Gravity’,” Hinata laughed and slumped on the sofa, eyes glued to the ceiling fan spinning lazy circles above them. He seemed incredibly content and Kenma felt his body relax as well.

“You still watch that?” he snorted and Shouyou slapped his forearm.

“I’m only doing it to piss off Kageyama.”

“Is it working?”

“Of course! Last week I forced him to watch the marathon with me. He made that face like—” Shouyou did a perfect Kageyama impersonation as he flattened his bangs and scrunched up his face, a deep line etched between his furrowed eyebrows. He even lowered his voice so that he would sound like the black haired man. “‘This makes no sense. Why is she still dating him? He’s not even acting, he’s just being himself! It pisses me off that people worship him and pay him for that.’” Kenma coughed to hide his laughter and Shouyou beamed. “Needless to say it was hilarious. He hated it, yet he still watched it with me until the very end.”

Kenma wanted to say something like ‘now that’s true devotion’, carefully avoiding the ‘L’ word, but he decided not to. Shouyou always refused to listen to him. “He probably can’t look at those promotional posters and commercials anymore,” Kenma trailed off.

“He always avoids looking at those. It’s like his childhood comes back to haunt him.”

Kenma can justify that sort of behaviour. If he was in Kageyama’s shoes he would probably avoid looking at those posters of his senior’s – whom he had admired yet never truly gotten along with back in high school – face. It would just make him feel oddly bitter and a tad nostalgic.

He was lost in his thoughts when he felt Shouyou’s arms wrap around him and pull him in for an awkward hug, considering their position. Kenma braced one hand against the sofa’s armrest as his best friend whispered into his ear, actually keeping his voice down for once. “I’m glad that it worked out for you and you’re finally going on a proper date.”

Kenma coughed, confused. “Uh, Shouyou, nothing worked out yet. I didn’t even agree to date him yet.”

“But you’re considering it.”

He didn’t say anything to that.

“I wish you all the best on your date, I know that it will be awesome and you’ll have a good time!”

Now he just felt uncomfortable. “Shouyou, it’s really not—”

“Maybe he’ll kiss you.”

That sentence made Kenma’s face pale and he pushed his friend away gently, slightly trembling.

Dates, though they weren’t truly going on one in this case, didn’t scare him. Nor did the whole concept of dating itself but the thought that he would have to show… affection didn’t sit with him well. What if Kuroo expected Kenma to kiss him? He didn’t know how to, he was far too inexperienced. What if Kuroo mistook his hesitance for rejection?

Suddenly the blond felt under a whole lot of pressure.

“What’s up?” Shouyou asked, his eyes full of concern as he rubbed Kenma’s stiff shoulders. “You’re doing that thing again, is something the matter?”

Kenma took in a deep breath. “I don’t think I want to kiss him.”

“Huh? Why not?”

Damn, he kind of hoped that he wouldn’t have to explain himself but his best friend was honestly confused. He couldn’t blame him. Wasn’t the need for affection normal? Then again, Kenma didn’t exactly fall into the ‘normal’ category unlike the rest.

“I don’t know how to do it and I don’t want to mess up?” He sounded so unsure.

Shouyou stayed silent for a few moments, rolled off the sofa and stood up. Kenma merely followed him with his eyes and watched the orange haired boy go up to Yachi and whisper something into her ear. She looked around and nodded, quickly disappearing behind the door. Shouyou didn’t return though, waiting patiently.

A few minutes later their duo turned into a trio as Yachi joined them for a quick fifteen minute break. Her co-worker, a tanned girl with her hair pulled up in a ponytail only glared her way, obviously upset that she had to do all the work by herself. The blonde ignored her and smoothed out her apron.

Kenma wordlessly stared at the duo before him, not sure what to expect. The blonde started braiding her side ponytail and not so subtly nudged Shouyou’s ribs.

“You won’t mess this up,” Hinata spoke up, his expression determined. “If you have any questions, ask Yachi. She knows a lot of useful things.” Holding that same face, Shouyou slipped off the sofa, got on one knee and spread his arms in Yachi’s direction as if presenting her. “Tada!” he even said for good measure.

Kenma slapped a palm over his face, embarrassed for his friend. “I can’t believe this.”

“You doubt my bottomless talent?” He heard the blonde gasp, feigning hurt. “Hinata, your friend is hurting my feelings, I’m losing the love guru vibe. Do something.” She sobbed dramatically and Shouyou gently stroked her shoulder as if to console her while trying to glare at Kenma. It didn’t work because he was smiling the whole time. “Kenma, be nice. We are only trying to help.”

“I feel so blessed. What did I do to deserve such an honor?” the blond played along.

Maybe it will be worth it. As long as he didn’t have to explain himself.

It had been worth his time and not only did he feel reassured, he also learned some good tricks on how to convey to Kuroo that he wasn’t up for any funny business. Deep deep down, Kenma truly wanted to be affectionate, but he figured that he would let those sappy feelings surface later on. That is if Kuroo still found him entertaining.

Hinata and Yachi shared a secret high-five.

Hinata stayed in the cafe until the end of Yachi’s shift so he could have a private conversation with her just like he wanted. Of course he wouldn’t mind if Kenma stayed for it, but the guy had a lot of homework and deadlines to deal with. Shouyou was glad that he had chosen college instead. The workload wasn’t that big and some of his professors were kind enough to extend deadlines.

The blonde woman plopped next to him, occupying Kenma’s usual spot. She seemed grumpy and Shouyou noticed that her shirt was different.

“I can’t believe she spilled espresso all over me. How bitter can you get…” Yachi grumbled and closed her eyes. “What’s the sitch, doc?”

Hinata rubbed the back of his cramped neck until the sore muscles burned. “You know my birthday’s coming up.”

“Mh. Kuroo is very excited. I heard he’s going to make special preparations this Saturday.”

The date rang a bell inside Shouyou’s head but he thought it was only his imagination. “I can’t believe he agreed to share the load with me. Saves me a lot of time and money.”

“Technically, he wanted to make this happen for a very long time and he wondered why not make it a double party. That’s really cool, I think. I have no one to go with, plus I don’t have a sexy swimsuit,” Yachi complained and rubbed her wrist, making her silver bracelets jingle. “Can someone pick me up?”

“Ask Tanaka-san, I’m sure he won’t mind. That is if you’re okay sitting in the back with Yamamoto-san.” Yachi made a face but eventually shrugged her shoulders in affirmation. Hinata pressed his head against the back of the sofa and glanced at his friend. “Since when did you get so close to Kuroo?”

“Since the day I called him ‘an insensitive asshole with rooster shit for brains’ after Kenma had splashed him and stormed out. He said that he liked my attitude or something. I mean, at first I had thought that he wasn’t worth my time but he’s actually very nice…”

“A beach party for me just because I helped him out with Kenma,” Hinata laughed, a huge grin adorning his face. “On one hand I’m super lucky, on the other I feel guilty.”

Yachi nodded her head in agreement. “You and Lev are the worst friends imaginable.”

“Nah, Lev and I are the best friends,” Hinata corrected her, one finger held up. “Now it’s all up to Kuroo. We only laid down the foundation.”

“That’s true,” Yachi mumbled, seemingly lost in her thoughts. “We can only hope that nothing will interfere and this will go smoothly. I can’t even begin to imagine everything crumbling down. “And what about you?” She abruptly turned to Hinata, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. “You wanted to ask about ‘that’?”

Hinata grabbed one decorative pillow that was squished between his back and the sofa and placed it over his face, muffling the high-pitched sounds of frustration. Yachi let him do his thing until she got fed up and took the pillow away. “You don’t know where that’s been!”

“You’re the one who works here!”

“Yeah but I’m not a supervisor,” Yachi countered and threw the pillow away. “You’re okay?”

“Yes… yeah I’m okay, I’m fine now,” the orange haired man sighed, swallowing down the bubbling frustration. “He refuses to tell me what happened at the rave and I’m still hoping to remember but it’s a lost cause. I even went to Lev for his mind cleansing rituals but that only confused me even more and now I don’t know how much I had imagined. Plus yesterday he dropped the ultimate bomb on me.”

Yachi only blinked, confused. “…mind cleansing—what?”

Hinata carried on, voice rushed as he didn’t let his friend interfere. “He said that he thinks you’re in love with me.” Abruptly Yachi shut up, words dying in her throat. She stared at her friend with a miffed look as though none of this was processing to her.

“… and I know that we spend an awful lot of time together but that’s just ridiculous! He’s being defensive! I don’t think he’s blind or anything, though I'm not so sure anymore, and he actually notices but avoids it on purpose like a true straight guy who—hello? Yachi? Yacchaaaaan? Heyyy are you listening?” Only then did Hinata notice the horrified look his blonde friend was presenting him and poked her upper arm. She didn’t respond and he frowned, confused.

“Uh, wait, you’re not actually in love with me, are you?” He laughed nervously, eyes darting around. “Because that would be very awkward haha…ha…”

The woman shook her head to the sides violently until her vision blurred and her head throbbed. “What! No! You’re like a brother to me! We’ve known each other for ages!” she shouted, panicked, hands gesturing wildly. “Besides, uh, I have someone else I like.”

Hinata blinked. “If it’s Kiyoko-san then I don’t even wanna know what will happen when Yamamoto-senpai and Tanaka-senpai find out.” He scratched the back of his head.

Yachi blanched. “I would flee from the country, fly to Mexico, change my name, get arrested for illegal immigration and spend the rest of my days in jail, trading cigarettes for hot girls.” She combed her fingers through her thick hair, messing it up as she shivered. “This is not the future I had envisioned no no no—”

Despite years of knowing the girl, Hinata was still amazed by her imagination and her abilities to conjure the worst case (not likely to happen) scenarios within seconds. “So it’s not Kiyoko-senpai?”

“No!” Yachi barked, her head shooting up from her hands. “I mean yes! This is a bit embarrassing, it was alcohol talking I swear. I mean also my slightly sexually frustrated side too, but mostly alcohol. Shimizu likes someone, but she won’t tell me who. She only described them as annoying yet attentive and that could be anyone we know.” She huffed and buried her face into her hands again. “I feel you, Hinata, I really do because my epic romance will never work out.”

“Why not? You’re, uh, very cute and nice and I would date you if I was playing for the other team.”

The blonde blushed and felt a whole lot better yet the pain of one-sided feelings still hurt her. “Thank you, but… it won’t ever work out between us.”

“As in ‘us’ or you and the mystery person?” Hinata winked and Yachi elbowed him playfully.

“Both actually.” Her eyes turned solemn. “He likes someone else. It’s the most pure love I’ve ever seen and it makes me sad it’s not returned. He deserves to be happy!”

Hinata wasn’t an expert at reading one’s emotions but he could tell that despite those well-meant words Yachi didn’t truly put her honest feelings into them. She seemed rather dejected and Shouyou obliged to the sudden urge to throw one hand over her fragile shoulders and hold her closer. They stayed like this until the sky outside the windows started darkening and the customers began clearing out.

They left the store when Takeda came out of his office and went over his usual routine of closing the shop. The air was unusually chilly and Hinata agreed to accompany Yachi back home since she had already missed some of her evening course lectures. They rode the half-empty bus together, occasionally talking, watching the lights blur.

All was well until Yachi’s phone buzzed and she took it out from her pocket, staring at the screen for a long while.

Hinata was minding his own business, eyes fixed on his own phone as he bothered Nishinoya, when he heard a broken sob which immediately shattered the cozy atmosphere between them. Startled, he looked at Yachi only to find her covering her eyes, the side of her head plastered against the window. Her left hand that was holding the phone was resting on her thigh and Hinata read the short text message.

Sent: 08.22 pm
From: Yamaguchi Tadashi
To: Me

He left again. Can we meet up...?

Oh.

“Him? Damn, that... really sucks. I’m… so sorry,” Hinata offered, a tad awkwardly. Yachi didn't respond to him nor did she reply to the text as she deleted it.

This wasn’t ever going to work out because anyone who had functioning eyes could tell that Yamaguchi Tadashi paid attention only to one person.

For some reason Hinata felt a pang of dislike, stronger than any he’s ever felt before, when he thought about Tsukishima.

When Saturday afternoon rolled by, Kenma was more than nervous. Needless to say Inuoka had mistaken his sudden ‘dinner with a friend’ for a date and this time Kenma didn’t even bother to correct him.

For thirty minutes he fretted over his clothing choices until Inuoka got fed up with him and told him that he looked perfect.

He changed into something less flashy.

In the end he fought back the urge to pull on Kuroo’s newly washed hoodie and pulled on his own, dark red one. The thought of having to part with his favorite particle of clothing upset him.

By 5 pm there were still no new messages from Kuroo and Kenma wondered if he was stood up and the whole invitation was a joke to begin with, but then someone knocked on their door and he almost had a heart attack.

Inuoka, who was secretly waiting for something like this to happen while pretending to listen to music, immediately ripped his headphones off and chirped a happy 'I’ll go get it'.

And so began the wild dash towards the door, Kenma trying to hold the man back while hyperventilating and cursing because if it was truly Kuroo standing on the other side, he was absolutely fucked. Now he could actually relate to Inuoka’s freak out when the he’d been discovered.

Kenma swiped his foot over the front of Inuoka’s ankles, miraculously making the taller one kiss the floor and took that moment to open the door slightly.

A baffled Kuroo was standing there, blinking at him. “Whoa, you’re one hell of a party animal, aren’t you? Or is the army rebelling against the ruler?”

“No time,” Kenma wheezed, glad that he had his sneakers on. He heard Inuoka rising up and he stood on one leg, the other raised and ready to kick his roommate down if he was to get too close. “I have a very very easily excitable pet in here and he shouldn’t be-” A slight shove of his foot. A sad whine. “-allowed near people.”

Kenma could’ve sworn he heard Kuroo mumble ‘animal abuse’ as he stood to the side. “Then let’s go,” he urged. He seemed rather impatient and Kenma realized that he most likely felt uncomfortable with the sudden crowd of people they had attracted. Some guys were whispering among themselves and Kuroo subtly pressed himself against the wall as if hoping to be mistaken for an exotic houseplant.

The two of them were downright ready to hold hands and make their great escape when the door burst open and Kenma’s ‘pet’ fell out, all wide smiles and disapproving stares. “Hey now, that’s kind of rude! You walked in on me so why am I not allowed to do the sa—”

He shut up abruptly and Kenma felt like crying tears of frustration. Inuoka was about to say something but Kuroo seemed to have picked up on the blond’s sudden distress and grabbed his forearm, relenting his grip when the shorter boy winced. “I would love to stay around and chat, but we’re gonna be late. It was nice meeting you.” Kuroo saluted and dragged Kenma after him, firmly brushing past the people gathered in the hallway.

They only slowed down when the dormitory was out of sight and that had taken quite a while. Kenma was barely keeping up and he weakly wrenched his arm away, pinning the black haired man with a disapproving stare. “You could’ve just texted me instead of picking me up. We could’ve avoided this unnecessary attention,” he scolded and Kuroo came to an abrupt halt.

Kenma thought that he had perhaps overdone it a little when his crush looked him in the eyes, smiling slightly. “But I wanted to come and get you. Is that really so wrong?”

Kenma really wanted to say ‘no’ and he felt that it would’ve been a genuine answer but he was so unlike Kuroo and he actually cared about his rapidly crumbling reputation.

“It’s not wrong but it isn’t exactly smart either. Don’t you care about what others will say?”

The silence felt choking. “No,” Kuroo said eventually and tried to take Kenma’s hand in his, but the blond firmly brushed him off. He didn’t want to be caught holding hands in public. Not until they made it official, anyways.

Kuroo merely curled his fingers back as though he was disappointed and slightly hurt by the blatant rejection. Kenma felt like shit, to be honest. This whole ‘date’ wasn’t exactly working out. The blond watched him awkwardly scratch the back of his head and then shove his hands into his pockets. “Sorry,” he mumbled and Kenma looked to the side, too afraid to meet his gaze.

They spent the entire walk in deafening silence.

“Red pepper.”

“No.”

“Reeed pepper.”

“Kuroo, no. I don’t eat these. They are the worst thing to happen to humanity.”

“Kenma, don’t make me force the ‘here comes the plane, open up’ game on you. At least try it out. It’s a vegetable. An actual vegetable,” Kuroo said and poked the spoon in front of Kenma’s firmly clasped lips. The blond huffed. Kuroo sighed, frustrated. “Don’t be such a big baby. It won’t hurt you.”

“...Just one, okay?” Finally, the blond gave in to his crush’s pleas to eat some salad that involved his most hated vegetable. The taller one had said that if he didn’t eat it, he wouldn’t be able to taste the meal properly. It was vital or so he had said after Kenma refused ten times in a row. “But only one,” he warned and Kuroo smiled cheekily.

“Sure thing, babe.”

Kenma opened his mouth to retort something incoherent, his cheeks red, and Kuroo pushed the spoon into his mouth.

Kenma chewed, too afraid of what he might taste but nothing disgusting reached his taste buds. He only felt a pang of spice but that was it. Content, he swallowed and Kuroo finally let go of the spoon.

“See? Not so bad when you actually try it out.”

“Shut up.”

“’Kay, princess.”

“’m not a princess...” Kenma mumbled and took another bite. It was just as good as the first one.

“My prince, then?”

Good thing he had already swallowed that. He set down the spoon and covered his flaming face. “God, you’re so embarrassing, I can’t deal with you.”

“Yet here you are,” Kuroo said in a sickeningly sweet voice and poked a piece of meat with his chopsticks.

The two of them were seated at the same table in the same old kitchen, talking about meaningless things and eating the food Kuroo’s been, as he put it, slaving over the whole day. The guy had some serious talent. He could easily be a chef.

“My mother wasn’t the one who made our meals when I still lived back home,” Kuroo bragged not so subtly as he clicked his chopsticks together. “Our maid even asked me to teach her how to cook like this.”

Kenma couldn’t wrap his mind around the maid thing. So did that mean that Kuroo was actually pretty rich just like he had initially assumed? But why was he working at the convenience store then? “A maid?” he wondered out loud, not truly expecting an answer to begin with.

“Yeah,” his crush replied, a distant look in his eyes. “My mom’s a bit of a slob and my dad’s no better. Can’t say I’m any different.” He shrugged his shoulders and braced his chin against the back of his left hand. “I guess my family is well-off but I didn’t want to take anything from them. I’ve always aimed to be independent. Not to mention my current relationship with my parents isn’t the best one… ah well, what can you do.”

If there was one thing why Kenma loved this time he had spent with Kuroo it was because the guy had warmed up to him enough to open up to him. Either that or he wasn’t the one to hide stuff from others, Kenma just couldn’t figure it out.

What he truly did dislike about their meeting though was that the moment they returned, they walked in on something rather shocking. Kuroo merely said ‘yo! We’re back’ whereas Kenma was frozen in the tiny hallway, one finger pushed between the back of his heel and his sneaker, ready to pull it off. He would’ve fallen face forward too if Kuroo hadn’t pulled him up by the back of his hood like a newborn kitten.

“Careful.” He went on ahead while Kenma’s mind was short-circuiting. Very much so.

It’s not every day that you get to see the ‘holy mother’ of your dormitory kissing the troublemaker who annoyed him on daily basis.

Kenma kind of expected Akaashi to be a little more uncomfortable with this whole unfortunate situation, but either his face was far too impassive for those emotions or he simply didn’t care.

In the end he found out that it was the latter.

Again, he felt pissed that Shouyou didn’t bother to tell him the fact that apparently everyone besides him knew that Bokuto Koutarou and Akaashi Keiji were an item.

And boy, were they one.

“I’m surprised Akaashi isn’t embarrassed. He doesn’t seem like the type of person who doesn’t mind… public displays of affection.”

“He’s as shameless as they come,” Kuroo whispered after Kenma stuttered that he wanted an explanation. He had been beyond mortified when Akaashi calmly greeted him and went back to kissing his… boyfriend. “Bokuto’s influence. This one time we were having dinner together and they almost got it on while I was in the same room. It was a disturbing experience.” Kenma didn’t dare imagine. “And to think that they aren’t officially dating.”

“What?” Kenma rubbed his eyes and looked back to the sofa the lovebirds occupied. He wasn’t as uncomfortable as he thought he might be but it still made him… nervous? “I mean, look at them. You mean to tell me they aren’t dating?”

“Well.” Kuroo clicked his tongue and took a sip of water. “It’s not as easy as you think. For one thing they both think that they’re only infatuated. Never said the 'special words' to each other. Then there’s Bokuto’s ‘loose string’ behavior. They fight more often than not and what you’re witnessing right now is a miracle.” Kuroo smirked slyly. “The mating ritual of owls.”

Kenma frowned. “I don’t follow.”

His crush pushed his chair closer to him and moved to the side so that he could take a better look at the duo. “Here’s how it will go… Right now you see the great horned owl in its natural habitat. If you listen to the hooting very closely it suspiciously sounds like ‘homo’.” Kuroo went full-blown commentary and Kenma bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing, curious about what will follow. It seemed that Kuroo truly knew his stuff.

“The horned owl had spotted its potential mate. And here we see the said owl trying to court the mate.” Bokuto leaned in closer, a sappy smile on his lips. Akaashi leaned back. “The mate seems confused by the horned owl’s blatant approach, yet it shows interest. We are about to witness the horned owl’s mating call.”

“He’s not doing anything though,” Kenma whispered back as Kuroo got closer, their attention still focused on the ‘majestic birds’.

“No, look closer. It’s the smile. Wait for it and count with me. It should take five seconds, give or take, but don’t forget to count slowly.”

Kenma started a dragged out mental countdown as Kuroo kept on commenting. “The mate shows even more interest than before. The horned owl is pleased as it swoops down and – oh. See? The mating ritual is a success,” Kuroo said with a broad grin as he stared at the lovers doing cheesy stuff that belonged in corny romance movies and dramas, such as kissing and rubbing the tips of their noses together. Kenma felt that it was far too personal to stare at so he averted his eyes back to his plate.

“Get a room!” Kuroo shouted when things got a bit too heated but Bokuto merely shot him a dark glare.

“Kuroo, you have three seconds to run if you don’t shut the fuck up,” he warned and right then Kenma kind of feared for his life.

“Oh no, I've been spotted! Also, I’m getting spike protection on that bird nest of yours,” the other retorted.

Bokuto started the countdown. Kuroo abruptly stood up. “You’re done eating? Good. We should leave,” he quickly said and made a mad dash for his room, Kenma following in tow.

Somehow they had ended up in a small balcony of which’s existence Kenma was completely unaware since he had never seen the ‘dorm’ from that side. Weren’t these people living a bit too fancily? This was completely unfair to the hobo side.

It seemed that society’s norms would always follow them no matter where they stepped.

Kuroo was on his third cigarette when Kenma decided that he’s had enough of air poisoning. “Can you put it down? This is your third one in twenty minutes.”

“Chain smoker,” Kuroo merely said, took another drag and blew the smoke upwards, watching it curl in the reddening sky. “I would put it away if I could but this is the only way.”

“Nicotine addiction?”

“More like oral fixation,” Kuroo stated nonchalantly and braced his forearms against the rail. “Hard to get rid of. I tried chewing gum but that shit kills you if you’re hungry.”

“Tried anything else?”

“I did, but I don’t think you want to know about that one.”

And truly Kenma did not.

He was feeling kind of daring though. “Is it any good? Smoking that is? I mean your health is getting destroyed and your life is being shortened, so I don’t see any merit in that.”

Kuroo snorted. “You sound so much like Yaku right now. Are you sure you aren’t related?” Kenma gave him his best plain look. “It’s just smoke. It’s relaxing to me, not sure what others would say though. Helps me calm my nerves. And we are going to die eventually so who cares?”

“I do.” Kenma’s mouth had moved on its own before he could even register it and Kuroo smiled around the cancer stick’s filter, mussing the shorter one’s hair.

“Aw, that’s so sweet of you.”

“…shut up.”

“Tsk no no no, don’t you pull that. You only said what you meant, that’s good.”

Their conversation had lapsed as Kenma sent discreet glances Kuroo’s way. In this lighting he seemed at least eight years older, the dark bags under his eyes standing out even more. He seemed tired yet at the same time so very relaxed. Kenma mindlessly reached out and carefully wrapped his fingers around Kuroo’s wrist. The taller one seemed startled yet his cheeks flushed. “I want to try it,” Kenma said and Kuroo’s face turned redder.

“Try what, exactly?” he inquired, eyelids drooping slightly. It wasn’t an invitation or another teasing remark, he seemed honestly taken aback and just a little hopeful.

“Let me take a drag,” Kenma clarified and immediately Kuroo’s hope shattered into a bunch of tiny pieces scattering in the wind along with the smoke. He frowned.

“No. You seriously do not want to try this, it’s nasty.”

“You’re doing it.”

“I’m allowed.”

“Says who?”

“I do.” Kuroo peeled Kenma’s fingers away. “I’ve been doing this since I was fourteen, you on the other hand... No, you seriously don’t want to try it.”

“Don’t be such a big baby.” Kenma frowned and tried to bring Kuroo’s hand down but he only raised it high above his head, out of Kenma’s reach.

“Don’t quote me to me, stupid.” Kuroo stuck out his tongue and he was about to take another drag, lowering his hand slightly but Kenma used that moment to snatch his wrist again and quickly pressed the slightly damp filter to his lips, taking a rushed drag.

A mistake.

He coughed violently as his eyes watered, yet he still held onto Kuroo’s wrist, hand trembling. It felt as though he had gone into a Turkish sauna, except the smoke and the taste weren’t soothing. Instead it felt like his lungs have been set on fire.

“Never mind, I don’t want it,” Kenma wheezed and let go of Kuroo’s wrist. His crush immediately put out the cigarette.

“Don’t tell me that I didn’t warn you,” he scolded halfheartedly and stroked Kenma’s back until he could properly breathe again. “You inhaled too much.”

“No shit.” Kenma let out another small cough and closed his eyes. “How can you keep doing this? It’s horrible.”

“Guess you need to get used to it and appreciate the finer things in life?”

“’Finer things?’ I almost died.” Kenma looked up only to find Kuroo staring at him intently, a worried look in his eyes. “I forbid you from smoking.”

“No,” Kuroo retorted, frowning.

“Yes.”

“Make me, pudding head.”

The distance between them shrank within seconds and Kenma was tempted to ‘make him’ by pressing their mouths together and keeping them there until Kuroo was hooked on the feeling, hooked on the taste and laid off the cigarettes for the rest of eternity. It seemed that the smoke had really gotten to his head, making it spin and his vision go in and out of focus.

They were so, so close and Kenma was ready to seal his fate, oh god he could feel Kuroo breathing against his lips and it would’ve been perfect if it didn’t smell like smoke, but then there was a distinctive cough behind them and, startled, he shied away.

Kuroo cursed under his breath and they both turned around to find Tsukishima casually leaning against the doorframe, one hand playing with the cord of his headphones that were, as always, pulled around his neck. His face was completely blank, one thin eyebrow raised. The blond crossed his ankles and pushed himself away with his elbow.

“Hey, trash cat. You were running a bit late so I dropped by.” His amber eyes, completely devoid of emotion, much to Kenma’s concern because he really couldn’t tell what the other was thinking, focused on him.

The air sparked with strange tension but Kuroo instantly got rid of it. “Could’ve waited like ten more minutes. I was about to go down, sunshine.”

“I went through utter hell just to get here, show some respect,” Tsukishima drawled out in a bored tone and pointed one thumb behind his back. “Those two are at it.”

“I’m well aware,” Kuroo said and Kenma looked aside in order to avoid making eye contact with the tall blond again. He couldn’t explain why he felt so strange whenever their eyes met. It had never happened before in the past.

“So are you going to leave now, or…?” Kuroo pushed, his eyebrow twitching. Tsukishima stood up straight, a smirk on his face.

“No, thanks. I don’t feel like waiting outside the door. You can carry on with your sappy shit, I can pretend I’m not even here.” The blond shrugged, but judging by his tone it was obvious that he wouldn’t relent until he made sure Kuroo left with him.

The black haired man seemed to have realized it immediately and with a small sigh he looked at Kenma. “Sorry I didn’t warn you sooner. It had completely slipped my mind.”

“Oh, I’m sure it had, heartthrob.”

“Tsukki, shut up and go inside,” he ordered and with a slight smirk the bespectacled blond pushed the curtain aside and left, granting them some privacy. Some being none at all because Kenma could tell that he was listening. “We have some stuff to take care of. It’s very important.”

Kenma only nodded and glanced at the entrance.

“We can meet up some other time?”

The blond swallowed when he heard an obvious snort come from the inside.

“Uh sure. Let’s… go?”

As Kuroo led the way out – his palms firmly clasped over Kenma’s ears until they stepped outside – the blond realized one thing.

He was being dumped for another guy.

It wasn’t as dramatic as he made it out, but he could only trail after the duo as they went on ahead and bantered. Kuroo seemed so at ease with Tsukishima, way more than when he was with Kenma and it stung.

He felt jealous.

He wanted to know Kuroo like the the taller blond did, his flaws and his good sides, he wanted to talk to Kuroo openly without fear of messing up, accidentally insulting him or hurting his feelings in general. He didn’t want to have this god damn anxiety that always held him back.

He wanted to be the one to walk beside Kuroo Tetsurou.

Kenma had belatedly realized that even though he didn’t lose to those ganguros and desperate for money tools, he undeniably lost to Tsukishima Kei.

“What is your problem?” Kuroo groaned as they boarded the train, practically elbowing their way inside. There was no other choice. “You’re breaking your bitch scale today, Tsukki.”

“I don’t want to be told I’m ‘a bitch’ by someone like you, so shut up,” the man before him hissed in response and latched onto a steel bar to hold himself up. They were squashed from all sides and Kuroo noticed that he had nothing to hold onto unless he wanted to place his hands upon someone else’s. That thought alone made him shiver with disgust, so he grabbed onto Tsukishima’s bent arms instead.

“What do you think you’re doing?” The blond looked at him, half startled, half displeased.

Kuroo shot him a mildly annoyed stare. “What does it look like?”

“Molestation in a train.”

“Tsukki, think about your life and porn choices,” Kuroo drawled out and pressed himself closer when some old lady’s purse brushed against his lower back none too gently. Their faces were two centimeters apart at most. “See? Works perfectly,” Kuroo purred and Tsukishima wrinkled his nose in disgust, pale cheekbones tinged red.

“Can you move your head to the side? That guy’s sending us some nasty glares.” Tsukishima adjusted his hold and glanced at the mentioned old man who seemed severely disturbed by ‘youth these days’.

“Let him.” The shorter one shrugged, his eyes involuntarily traveling to Tsukishima’s dry lips. They seemed considerably nice and kissable when they weren’t curled into mocking smirks and sneers. “Don’t be so jumpy.”

“I’m not jumpy,” Tsukishima retorted and the train shook to the sides. He winced slightly when Kuroo’s grip tightened in order to keep himself upright. Toppling over wasn’t an option. Without a doubt he would send everyone flying down like dominoes. “This would all work better if you got on your hands and knees and let me use you as a stool,” the bespectacled blond groaned when he felt Kuroo’s messy bedhead brush against the side of his face.

“Kinky, Tsukki.”

The taller one ignored him. “Then what do you propose we do, because I don’t know if you’ve noticed this but you’re about to tear my arms off.” He flexed his arms again to prove his point, muscles contracting from the slight strain and pressure.

When those black eyes lit up with their usual mischievousness, Tsukishima regretted asking. He would much rather have no arms at all than deal with the man’s bullshit.

And some serious bullshit it was indeed.

He didn’t even notice Kuroo letting go of his biceps, too busy studying the shorter one’s facial expressions, so, needless to say, he almost jumped out of his skin when Kuroo’s arms wrapped around his waist instead, pulling them flush against each other.

The old man from before looked like he was sentencing them for a thousand years in hell and Tsukishima let out a startled gasp. “W-what the fuck?” As much as he wanted to sound firm it seemed impossible in this predicament.

“I’m sparing your slender arms, Solia.” Kuroo tightened his grip on Tsukishima’s thin waist when the train jolted again. This was hell hell hell, utter hell. The blond was never one to believe in supernatural but right now he prayed for whatever force to swoop in and pry Kuroo away before it got too uncomfortable. “You should thank me properly.” The black haired man innocently fluttered his eyelashes and Tsukishima jumped up when he felt Kuroo’s hands splaying on his lower back.

“H-Hands where I can feel them,” he ordered and glared at the other when he only snickered.

“Feel them? Should I put them under your shirt?”

Fuck, he messed up. “See them,” he squeezed out through clenched teeth, cheeks flushed with shame. “I meant see them.”

“Whoa there, Tsukki, I’m not going to ravish you. Don’t act like some frightened steed.” Kuroo was beyond entertained.

“Knowing you, I wouldn’t be surprised if you tried something funny.”

“You think so lowly of me.”

“Show me a certificate where it says that you don’t have AIDS or HIV and possibly herpes.” Tsukishima frowned and looked to the side, glaring daggers at some innocent teen who quickly averted his gaze. “Then I might change my mind.”

This time Kuroo’s playfulness subsided completely as he pulled himself away, trying to catch Tsukishima’s cold stare, fingers holding onto the hem of his shirt just in case. “Seriously, what the fuck is your damage?” Kuroo did not want to cause a scene but his voice came out louder than he had intended. He waited for people to turn away before continuing. “It’s none of your business who I fuck, okay? Don’t be such a dick about it.”

“You’re the one who is acting like an utter cock,” Tsukishima mumbled, still refusing to look at him. Frankly speaking, it pissed Kuroo off. Tsukki always avoided head on confrontation and that was simply annoying. “You go around wooing people without being serious and you expect them to take you seriously.”

“It’s just how I am, I like joking and fooling around and I make it pretty damn obvious. If some unlucky soul thinks that I’m being serious, it’s entirely their problem, not mine.”

“How is it not theirs if you are leading them on?” Tsukishima barked, a storm brewing in those amber eyes. “Get off your high horse and think about what others are feeling for once.”

“That’s surely something coming from you,” Kuroo bit back, one hand shooting up under Tsukishima’s chin to make him acknowledge his existence. He was done with the whole ‘running away’ thing. It was about time he taught the blond how to face his problems head on.

Kuroo was stubbornly rejected but eventually the blond relented and those amber eyes locked on his. “Don’t force your bullshit self-esteem problems on me, okay? Or better yet, learn from your own advice, Tsukki, because no one else is going to do it for you.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.” Tsukishima looked downright ready to spit him in the face, his eyes on fire.

“I’m being honest.”

And when Kuroo had deemed it safe enough to let go of Tsukishima completely the ground shook and he was forced to fall against him and hold on, chin pressed against the blond’s jutting collarbone.

“Let go,” Tsukishima ordered, obviously pissed.

“Just tell me what your problem is, Kei,” Kuroo said after a moment, nose buried in the taller one’s shirt. Frustration was starting to overtake him and he did not know how to deal with this sudden feeling of helplessness. Tsukishima was a book written in a language he did not understand and couldn’t completely translate despite reading the same line over and over for years. “I won’t know unless you tell me. I’m not a fucking mind reader, I’m just… me.”

His heart sank when he heard the blond’s emotionless voice against his ear. “You are. You’re my problem.”

The train screeched to a halt and despite the fact that they were two stops away from destination,Tsukishima brushed him away, ‘accidentally’ elbowing Kuroo in the face on his way out, swallowed up by the masses within a moment.

Kuroo felt like screaming.

Tsukishima was no better as he held his right hand close, the skin of his knuckles bruised and bleeding.

“Damn it…”

Chapter Text

“Do you think they left?” Despite the fact that it had been quiet for a while except for the occasional noises coming from the hallways outside, Bokuto still had to ask just to make sure. Better safe than sorry. Living with Kuroo was, is, and always will be a challenge. You never knew what to do with yourself and trusting your ears alone was no longer the safe path to take. Ears could fool you. Kuroo? He could fool you even more.

Snapchat and embarrassing videos included.

On the other hand, Akaashi had splendid hearing - seriously, Bokuto was sometimes jealous of it. The other man was a lot like a cat hunting for mice in the middle of the night, eyes glistening and focused. Akaashi had nice eyes. Then again, to Bokuto – all of Akaashi was nice, hell, that word wasn’t enough to describe him. Perfection materialized was more likely. More fitting.

His dearest Akaashi was dozing off, uncaring of the sounds around him as he shifted sluggishly and cuddled against Bokuto’s chest to keep warm. The awesome aftermath’s glow was already fading away, leaving the black-haired man a little disgusted by the sweat cooling against his flushed skin. He was in a desperate need for a shower but his body refused to obey his train of thought, unwilling to leave Koutarou’s side just yet.

Especially now when he noticed that something was… off. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but something in the other’s expression didn’t settle with him. Clearly, Bokuto was overthinking again.

Fearing the impending frustrated groaning fit and imminent complaints about a throbbing headache forming, Akaashi slid his body up so that he was face to face with his partner. “What is it with you? You have that pinched look on your face,” the black-haired man murmured quietly, lifting his hand up to smooth out the line of worry etched between Bokuto’s sharply arched eyebrows.

To be completely honest, Akaashi sort of liked this side of his friend. Seriousness and Bokuto Koutarou did not go hand in hand and it was a rare occurrence in itself, but whenever that phenomenon graced Akaashi’s watchful gaze, he took it all in, drinking in the rare sight like a man that’s been wandering scorching deserts for days. This sort of eerie calmness never failed to make chills run down Akaashi’s spine, the look of pure intensity in those amber eyes amplifying that sensation.

Not that he really complained about it.

He was still worried, okay?

“Huh?” Bokuto merely blinked at him and that look was gone in an instant – along with Akaashi’s piqued… interest. “Oh, I was just thinking.”

“You shouldn’t think. You might hurt your brain.”

“Not now, Akaashi, please.” Bokuto closed his eyes with an exasperated groan and Akaashi was half tempted to kick him off the sofa for that remark. As if reading his thoughts, Bokuto moved in even closer, fixing the thin blanket draped over them, his dropped jeans slipping off with a dull rustle of material and a clink of the belt. “This is serious.”

“How so?” Bokuto only let out that low sound. It was starting to piss Akaashi off; he seriously wasn’t in the mood to deal with a man mentally stuck at the age of five, plus throwing a temper tantrum. “Instead of feigning that ‘nobody ever understands you’, tell me what’s wrong, so I can help you figure this out.”

Bokuto loved being a drama queen. Far too much for Akaashi’s liking. Maybe that’s why they never truly hit it off. Maybe that’s why they never will. An eccentric, self-absorbed guy like that, sheesh, Akaashi wasn’t even sure why he liked him at all.

Bokuto was an… exception that he wouldn’t usually make, but the first time he had seen him in that bar alongside his obnoxious best friend, the first time Bokuto had cornered him outside and awkwardly asked him on a disastrous (perfect) date, the first time he pulled Akaashi’s fingers away from the strings of his guitar and kissed him softly, made Akaashi cave in and forget all common sense that he had.

The silver-haired man knew how to kiss him and hold him just right and Akaashi was only human. Physical contact was an unknown territory to him but he simply let it happen.

While Akaashi was thinking about all the things that made him like Bokuto even more than he should, more than he ever thought he would, he felt himself being encircled by those arms, let Bokuto pull him on top of his chest. He didn’t mind it, really. Maybe he was feeling too content for his own good, too tired to actually move that much.

“That was… Tsukishima, right?” Bokuto questioned, an unusually wistful tone in his voice. He was looking up at the ceiling and Akaashi hummed an affirmative.

“Weren’t they supposed to go settle some things for that beach party?”

“Yeah, but… it slipped my mind.”

“Figures. I think it slipped from Kuroo’s mind as well.” Akaashi huffed, his eyebrows furrowed. He couldn’t even begin to imagine how Kenma must have felt. He made a mental note to check on the boy later today, or if that failed, he would ask him tomorrow morning. Bokuto didn’t seem like he had another party to attend, or he would’ve ‘flied’ to the bathroom straight away, a hundred and ten apologies spilling from his lips as Akaashi slowly picked up his clothes and dignity along the way. “I told you that he’s dense.”

“I’d argue, but no.” Bokuto frowned and started stroking Akaashi’s lower back absentmindedly. Strange. Since when did Bokuto not obey ‘the bro code’: one of its most important rules – stand up for each other. “He’s a fucking dumbass.”

“Took you a while to notice?” Akaashi replied, unsure.

“No, I mean… I’m not trying to shit-talk him.” Ah, there it was. “’cept that I kind of am. I mean… he’s dense.”

“That’s a surprising outlook from someone like you, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto simply ignored him, face scrunched up like all of this thinking was hurting him in some way. It probably was. He tried to string some stray thoughts together into legible sentences. “I don’t really get him? You know at first he’s all over Tsukki; Tsukki this and Tsukki that, Tsukki has a choice ass, Tsukki asked me for help today, he’s growing up so fast - and god, it was so annoying. Funny is funny, but for, like, a week. But no, it didn’t stop after a week.” Now Akaashi was curious as well about what the other had to say. “And I don’t even know if he’s serious? I can’t read him at all; it’s like when he’s blocking my spikes. He just grins like an asshole, like you fell right into his little trap because he schemes a lot! It’s pissing me off sometimes!” By now Bokuto looked downright offended and Akaashi was more than entertained.

It’s not every day he got to hear something like this.

“And then Lev happened and then the Kenmapocalypse started. I shit you not! You see, there’s thirsty, there’s very thirsty, and then there’s Kuroo thirsting for Kenma. In that order. And, during that rave I helped, I thought that he would shut his pie hole once he got laid and got back to being a Casanova, but he didn’t even touch the kid? How? I mean, yeah, Pudding-kun was floating in space with that amount of alcohol and Kuroo’s not that big of a dick, but still. They’re playing this coupley thing and it’s freaking me out, man. It… feels like I’m losing my best friend to some sappy ass romance. It’s like I don’t even know him anymore,” Bokuto finished his rant angrily, panting as though he ran a marathon. Akaashi watched him grit his teeth as he rubbed his temples, that headache finally kicking in.

And as for Akaashi…

“I see,” he said curtly as he pulled himself away from the other, a pang of pain running down his lower back from the movement. His dark eyes scanned the mess of clothes, trying to find his underwear. “Well, Bokuto-san, I’m sorry to disappoint you like this, but there’s this thing called ‘growing up’. It seems that Kuroo simply found the one for him, that’s all there is to it. You’re not losing your friend to anyone, but if you continue going against him and keep telling him how to live his life, he’s going to drift away from you eventually.” It took him a few seconds to locate his dark blue boxers and he quickly slipped them on. Trying to wiggle his way into his (unfortunately) tight jeans was a challenge though.

To say that he was surprised when Bokuto let out a strangled growl and suddenly sat up with an arm draped over his eyes would be a bit of an understatement. He blinked, frozen, jeans pulled up to his thighs.

“That’s not what I meant!” Bokuto whined and raised his arm a little to stare at Akaashi, a pout on his lips. “It kinda is, but that wasn’t my point, the point is that… ugh, look I don’t know what I did, but I did something and it’s eating me up.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Akaashi frowned as he gingerly stood up and worked on the zipper. “You simply helped out a couple of friends. Don’t beat yourself over it.”

“I sure as hell didn’t help Tsukishima if that’s what you’re saying.” Bokuto let out a dull laugh and Akaashi stiffened once again, realization dawning on him. Oh.

“So that’s what this is all about.” With a sigh he settled down next to Bokuto and let the guy’s mussed head rest on his naked shoulder. “I don’t know Kuroo well enough to tell you whether he’s serious about… either one of them, but.” Akaashi paused, mouth open. But what? Honestly, where was he even going with this? For all he knew, Kuroo’s only intention was to use Kenma but he couldn’t stop it, alas, Akaashi didn’t have a big say in the guy’s life. They weren’t that close to begin with.

“I think that… asking him head on would be the best choice,” he offered, thinking. Bokuto nuzzled his shoulder, warm breath ghosting over his skin.

“I tried.”

“Did you do it properly?”

“Yes…” Akaashi gave him a suspicious look, though he couldn’t see it. He probably sensed it anyways. “….no.”

“You’re hopeless.”

They let the comfortable semi-silence wash over them as Akaashi mindlessly reached out to pet Bokuto’s hair, knowing all the places that made the other relax, nuzzle his shoulder even more. It was nice, in a way. Kind of painful, considering the fact that Bokuto wasn’t one for ‘coupley stuff’ or how he put it. He was most likely in need of some casual affection. If Akaashi wasn’t mistaken after all these months of knowing him ‘properly’, Bokuto was in constant need of it. Reassurance, too.

“He… really really likes that Kenma kid,” Bokuto spoke up after at least fifteen minutes of comfortable silence and Akaashi half listened to him, feeling a bit drowsy. “Like… really. And Kenma likes him back, yeah?”

“Mh-hm,” Akaashi hummed, pressing his left cheek against Bokuto’s head, ignoring the ticklish feeling of his rough hair. He saw no need to cover for the blond, he was well aware that Bokuto knew that fact himself.

“And I’m happy for them, as awkward as they are. I think that Kuroo deserves to be happy and after listening to stories bout Pudding-kun, I see that he needs some light in his life too. Though, I wouldn’t recommend Kuroo for that, he’s like a volcano and a hurricane combined, squeezed into a small space with a side of radioactive materials.”

“Tell me about it.”

“But if that makes him happy, then why not? But… as much as I think that this is how it should be, I feel like Tsukki deserves Kuroo more. He must feel like shit right now. They’re both assholes, I always thought that they would end up hate-married or something but now I ain’t so sure. Tsukki’s been around for longer so it’s only fair…?”

Akaashi knows the feeling of guilt by heart. Not just any guilt, but the one that was caused by your own actions, the ones that possibly ruined hopes and dreams, made some depressed while others were undeniably happy. They found what they have searched for so long. Akaashi is no stranger to this kind of feeling because he was the one who was traded while his loved one found happiness. But he never thought about it nowadays. It was a long time ago and he was over it. He had a pen, his notes, his guitar - if anything, he should’ve been thankful.

“He’ll choose someone eventually.” Akaashi sighed and stared into the distance, lost in his thoughts. “Personally, I don’t think Tsukishima really feels anything for him. He’s just…”

“A drama queen? Burning jealous?”

“…I guess? And you saw Kuroo with Kenma yourself. I’d say that was a part of his wooing ritual but name one person whom he invites for dinner like that.”

“...Tsukki?”

“I give up.”

“Okay,” Bokuto breathed out and when Akaashi was certain that the other had dozed off, he mumbled. “Akaashi, sing me a song.”

It made his cheeks burn bright pink. It wasn’t an unusual request per se but it always caught him off guard no matter what situation. “No.”

“Pleaaase?”

“No.”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“Bokuto-san, I will leave this instant if you do not cease to—“

He was swiftly cut off when Bokuto fell back, dragging a confused Akaashi with him so that they laid down in the same position before the black-haired man had shied away. This time it was a bit more awkward with Bokuto staring up at him like that and whatnot. That unwavering stare wasn't that intense but it still made Akaashi’s stomach knot almost painfully.

“I really really like you, Akaashi,” Bokuto said those words in such a fond tone that it kind of made Akaashi’s brain die and the nerve under his right eye twitch. Not because he was annoyed, far from it really. He tried to avert his gaze but Bokuto’s hands were clasped on his lower back and they were squeezing as though in warning.

‘Don’t focus on anything else but me.’

“Or maybe I…” Bokuto began, unsure, as his palms traced hot patterns on Akaashi’s steadily heating skin. His fingertips skimmed from his lower back to his shoulders, resting against the sides of his face, replaced by Bokuto’s palms. Akaashi would’ve said something along the lines of ‘please stop’ or ‘only lovers do that, Bokuto-san, didn’t you know that?’ but what the silver-haired man said next stunned him into horrified silence. “Maybe I really do love you.”

He said it so casually like those words didn’t pull at his chest violently, like they didn’t choke him, like those weren’t the same words that they never dared to tell each other. He said them with such ease that Akaashi almost wanted to punch his nose, see red, see pain.

But at the same time it managed to break something fragile within him. He always wanted to hear Bokuto say the l-word first, secretly or not, into his face or via stupid texts that he never failed to bombard him with daily. It shouldn’t have been this natural, but it was, it really was and he didn’t really know what he should do—

Koutarou was dense as hell but maybe this, Kuroo’s situation, the huge gap that had formed between the two friends, managed to open his eyes a little. Once again, Akaashi thought that perhaps he could thank Kuroo for being an ass who couldn’t mind his own business, but it’s like in Kuroo’s job description. He schemes and he schemes some more and he never gives it a rest.

“Do you… love me, Keiji?” Bokuto asked, unsure, like he was a lost child and Akaashi was a stranger. He couldn’t read Akaashi’s face that well when it was blank like that, honestly, not many people were capable of that, but then he saw that minuscule dent in it, his crush’s lips curled upwards just a little bit, the black pits that were his lovely eyes losing some of that sharp edge they always carried, looking so much like a ferocious bird’s.

Back then Akaashi didn’t give it much thought, mind buzzing with nonsensical thoughts, none of them relevant. He figured that he’d think about the meaning of these words later, think about the consequences when they presented themselves before him. Until then nothing else mattered. Until then…

Why not feel happy?

“I do,” he murmured against Bokuto’s mouth, silently, as though afraid someone might overhear, but it was just the two of them. Nothing else mattered. “… I think I love you too.”

He swore he heard Bokuto say something along the lines of ‘that’s good to hear’, but he didn’t have much time to ponder over it, the insistent press of his lover’s lips pushing the words back into his throat.

That one time Kenma actually wanted his overbearing roommate to be present and flop around with him, tell him his most inner deep thoughts that he always avoided voicing out no matter how much Inuoka whined his ears off, he was gone.

Of course. Everyone just happened to be busy tonight with their lives, leaving a distressed Kenma behind. Great.

He wasn’t bitter, he thought. He wasn’t pissed that Shouyou had once again ditched him for the sake of spending time with Kageyama. He wasn’t bitter that all of his friends had social lives and obviously more entertaining people to hang out with. Hell, Kenma never needed them so why should he now? Who cares if Inuoka was skipping outside with his boyfriend? Fuck that.

Fuck everything.

God, he was so bitter that it was ugly to look at. As guilty as he felt, those feelings didn’t subside, gnawing at his heart like a particularly disgusting worm of doubt. Did people even care for him? Like truly cared, and not in a way that was: so yeah we haven’t talked in ten years because you’re such a stuck-up and I am only trying to be polite by giving you false hope that we were never awkward to begin with.

He decided to calm down before he sank into his anxiety even further. He didn’t need his insecurities to be triggered just because his date ditched him and went away with someone else, someone who wasn’t Kenma.

Who the hell even did that?

They were right in… the middle of something and then Tsukishima happened and Kenma should really forgive him for popping out of fucking nowhere as Kuroo had instructed him but the short blond didn’t have it in himself to do that. Didn’t allow himself to forget those sneers, and not so subtle glares, like the taller one thought he had won some huge competition and Kenma was left to bite his dust.

Maybe it was just his over-creative imagination. Tsukishima wasn’t that evil, no matter what Shouyou said.

Shouyou just liked to… exaggerate. Yeah.

If only Tsukishima hadn’t interfered then maybe he would’ve really kissed Kuroo and gotten this over with. Now he was left feeling frustrated. Kind of like standing in a queue in front of your favorite game shop and being told that the game you’ve been waiting for hours among all those people, battling your social anxiety all the while, has been sold out. If the word ‘fucking’ was an emotion, Kenma was certainly feeling it now, oh he was feeling it so much that it made his blood boil and his head resonate.

He wasn’t prone to jealousy, in fact, Kenma’s emotional scale was pretty stable as it always stayed perfectly balanced at the very middle that was labeled ‘okay’. He had never gotten overly pissed or overjoyed, and if he had, those moments were few and far in between. He didn’t see the point of showing strong emotions. Life tended to disappoint him so why should he bother?

Kenma remembers getting this jealous only two-three times in his life: most of those times had happened in his early childhood days when he got too jealous of the attention his younger siblings were lavished in. Another time that clearly stood out in his memory was an incident in middle school when his friends went to the cinema to see the premiere of a movie that Kenma’s been dying to see, but he suddenly got sick and had to miss out.

Those were little things that made him relent immediately, after sulking for three hours at least, but none of them had left such a heartburn.

He firmly decided to never get swayed by Kuroo ever again but then his phone buzzed with a new text message and he groaned tiredly when he noticed that it was from the cause of his distress.

Sent: 10. 15 pm
From: Kuroo Tetsurou
To: Me

I‘m sorry for ditching you so suddenly I seriously forgot about it

Kenma was stuck between feeling touched that Kuroo had actually apologized and writing back ‘you’re an asshole let’s not talk again‘. He stared at the screen, contemplating if he should simply delete the message or accept the apology when it buzzed again. Someone was getting impatient.

Sent: 10. 17 pm
From: Kuroo Tetsurou
To: Me

Look I’ll make it up to you. Let’s try this again and go out some other time. Name the day?

Okaaaay, now that somewhat piqued his interest. Kenma would’ve refused on principle but Kuroo was offering another date and… he wanted to make it up to him? So like, he truly wasn’t just another target to woo? Maybe that’s what it meant?

Sent: 10. 18 pm
From: Me
To: Kuroo Tetsurou

Too bad I’m kind of busy next week.

Which wasn’t a complete lie. Kenma had a lot of work to deal with, hell, instead of moping around he should start working on his part of the four-people group presentation. He didn’t know how he’d manage to do this. He was stuck in the same group as Kunimi, after all.

Kuroo’s reply was immediate.

Sent: 10. 18 pm
From: Kuroo Tetsurou
To: Me

Great, coz I am busy myself

Kenma raised an eyebrow, unsure how to respond.

Sent: 10. 19 pm
From: Me
To: Kuroo Tetsurou

So if you’re THAT busy why did you ask for me to pick a day? Wouldn’t it have been way more comfortable for you to choose one?

Sent: 10. 20 pm
From: Kuroo Tetsurou
To: Me

For you, I would’ve made some time ;)

Kenma pressed his phone to his mouth, his face heating up. Did this guy really… wait no, he’s supposed to be mad at him. Angry thoughts, jealousy. No… butterflies or whatever.

Damn he needed to toughen up. He should ask Kageyama to teach him how to be intimidating.

So they were busy. Maybe that left them the weekends. Kenma’s thoughts traveled back to this afternoon. Tsukishima had crashed their date for a reason. Shouyou’s birthday, right? He’s heard about the beach party from the orange-haired man firsthand. He had to sit through his bragging. Besides he really needed to get the guy a present, the sooner the better (it was already a bit late, so).

A brilliant idea surfaced in Kenma’s head.

Sent: 10. 25 pm
From: Me
To: Kuroo Tetsurou

If you truly want to make it up to me, next Saturday you better join me for gift hunting. I need to get a present for Shouyou’s birthday

Sent: 10. 26 pm
From: Kuroo Tetsurou
To: Me

…how bold of you to ask me out on a date like this, I am swooning ;)

Sent: 10. 26 pm
From: Me
To: Kuroo Tetsurou

Wha.

I changed my mind. Let’s not meet up, I will have a headache next Saturday.

Sent: 10. 26 pm
From: Kuroo Tetsurou
To: Me

Hey no take backs!! >:( k, I’ll be at your place at 11:30 am

Kenma wanted to tell him that he doesn’t wake up before 2 pm, but he figured that this time he could make an exception, as unworthy as that guy was.

Sent: 10. 27 pm
From: Me
To: Kuroo Tetsurou

…sure

Sent: 10. 29 pm
From: Kuroo Tetsurou
To: Me

Then it’s settled. See you on our date, Kenma ;*

God, he hated the guy. Really.

Kageyama Tobio has never been a desperate guy. He liked everything in his life to come and go at an easygoing pace, flow smoothly, in fact, he enjoyed using schedules whenever he could. They kept him in balance, made his life so much better. To be honest, he just liked being in control of everything, be it himself or people in his presence. Yeah, maybe he did like ordering others around just a bit too much, wanted them to match the pace he had set. He couldn’t help it, really. It seemed that the nickname ‘King’ was unavoidable to begin with (courtesy of Tsukishima, that four-eyed bastard).

And lately Kageyama has been feeling like he was no longer in control of not only other people but his life choices as well. The point? He didn’t like it and it made him lose sleep. Kageyama valued his sleep, okay.

Kageyama also valued his sanity which was no longer as sane as it could’ve been if that made sense. God, he was getting stupid.

And it seemed that all of his problems, all that lack of power and control led to one stupid individual that Kageyama honestly despised from the very bottom of his heart. Not in the kind of way he despised some people whose names won’t be mentioned here - those could get ran over by a stampede of punks like his senpais - but in a ‘I hate you yet you’re so endearing, stop being so cute, you’re not supposed to be cute or endearing in any way and that’s making me confused and angry…er’ way.

Hinata Shouyou was a threat to his sanity along with his hours of sleep and something had to be done, otherwise he might go insane.

Of all the people Yachi had talked/tricked into visiting her during her shifts, she never, not even once, saw Kageyama come to ‘Red Pepper’ of his own accord. Usually a cheerful Shouyou was stuck to his side like they had been splattered in fast drying super glue, yipping like an excited retriever puppy. Kageyama would usually frown and blush and pretend that Hinata’s mere presence offended him, but Yachi could see what was up. She had told Hinata time and time again, but the orange-haired man never believed her, sometimes going as far as saying that Yachi was hallucinating.

Excuse you, Yachi was a girl in possession of a smart brain and a clear mind and that thing with pot, talking shoelaces and Kageyama’s ass whispering to her the secrets of the universe happened only once. This time she was certain that she wasn’t seeing things, Hinata needed to let it go eventually.

Plus, Kageyama’s ass wasn’t all that great.

Kageyama wasn’t a big fan of coffee or tea or any hot beverage to begin with, Yachi knew that much so when he strolled inside on Monday afternoon she almost spilled hot green tea all over the front of her shirt.

The man blinked, a little surprised but not enough to be too shocked by Yachi’s antics. If you spent so much time surrounded by weirdos you would get used to them eventually. Not that the blonde girl was weird just… strange, in her own way. Kind of like Hinata. He shuddered.

He really didn’t want to be thinking about that goofball, which was impossible. Yachi hid herself behind the counter, distracting him from his scary thoughts as she eyed him warily all the while. “Stranger danger,” She hissed and her co-worker simply rolled his eyes at her antics, a fond smile on his face.

“Hello to you too,” Kageyama said sarcastically and dropped onto a barstool. “A black coffee, please. No milk, no sugar. Just… coffee,” he finished tiredly and placed his elbows on the sleek wood surface.

Yachi blanched once she saw the look on his face. Seriously, why did people keep doing that, he was simply sleep deprived. The blonde trembled as she saluted him and slithered back into the kitchenette, the door she hated with a passion smacking against her thighs. The guy barista gave him a funny look that was one part annoyed and four parts spiteful but once Kageyama raised his grayish blue coloured eyes at him, he hurriedly looked away, taking some orders from a group of middle schoolers.

Kageyama let himself doze off and almost forgot why he was there to begin with, instead of sitting back at home and trying to cram for his upcoming exams, Hinata momentarily forgotten, but then Yachi presented him with his coffee and started asking him questions.

Questions he truly didn’t feel like answering. Not that they were annoying or anything, he just didn’t feel like opening his mouth, no less moving his tongue and kicking his vocal chords back to work. Yachi seemingly caught wind off his shitty mood; it wasn’t that hard since he didn’t exactly bother masking it. The blonde huffed, almost offended and Kageyama felt like shit for wasting her precious time with his brooding glares and incoherent mumbling.

“I understand if you’re not up for talking with me, I should probably go now,” he said and emptied his lukewarm cup, making a face at the strong taste. Just what was in this? Well no matter, he felt more awake now. At least something good came out of this awkward meeting.

“Wait wait wait, stop right there, mister!” Yachi flung herself onto the table in a way that made Kageyama flinch. That had to be painful. “You didn’t come here just to sulk and drink coffee you don’t even like! What’s the catch? I swear I know how to keep a secret.”

He didn’t have a doubt in his mind that the energetic blonde could do that. They already had a lot of secrets they shared over the years, some of them more serious than others. Kageyama fidgeted nervously, peeling at the dead skin around his nails, gnawing on his lower lip. Yachi made a constipated face at him. She looked like a hermit that just saw the sun for the first time in his life. “Well?” she inquired a few seconds later and backed away once the black-haired man started pulling ‘the face’. She was half tempted to call a priest or an exorcism specialist.

“There’s a friend…” he started, voice sounding quite shy to the girl’s massive golden earring adorned ears. Oh boy, here we go. Couldn’t people be more creative? Didn’t they realize how obvious they were being?

“I see.”

“And I—that friend wants to… impress someone he likes and he doesn’t know how, because that person is a dumbass and gives him mixed signals.”

Okay, now this was something interesting. Yachi looked over her shoulder and smiled apologetically at her co-worker. The guy merely rolled his eyes, a pale blush dusting his cheekbones as he tapped his wristwatch and pointed at Takeda’s office. “A dumbass? How so?” Yachi almost purred in content. Oh this was good. Too good.

“He’s a dumbass because he just is!” Kageyama huffed and crossed his arms, looking incredibly proud of himself. Yachi bit the inside of her cheek to stop a wicked grin from spreading on her face. Kageyama probably infected her, that had to be it. “But you see… that dumbass likes someone else?”

“Did you ask?”

“N-No? Why would I… it’s none of my business…” the man muttered and looked aside, seemingly dejected. “It’s my friend’s,” he added as an afterthought, but that didn’t convince anyone really.

“You should ask. Like, today,” Yachi said and looked at the clock. “Like in fourty-five minutes.”

Kageyama raised a thin eyebrow at her, head tilting a little to show his confusion. “What?”

Hopeless. Try another approach. “Kageyama-kun, I have a question.”

“…shoot.”

Yachi hummed a playful tune to herself and looked around to buy some time and make her seem nonchalant. She stood up on her tiptoes, bounced a bit and once she saw Kageyama’s glare intensifying she dropped the bomb. “Do you have a type?”

He obviously understood what she meant by that because he started coughing, face red. Some concerned gazes were directed their way. “I—what? Uhm…” His ears were on fire. Cute. “Do you?” he asked, a killer frown ruining his otherwise handsome face. Yachi was certain that this boy would get wrinkles at a very young age.

Smooth diversion, she didn’t give him enough credit for that. “Yes, of course I do! I think everyone has a certain type of person that attracts them.” She tapped her fingertips against her lower lip, this time smeared in dark pink lip-gloss. “My type is… hmm. Brown longish hair, bonus points for bouncy ahoges. Freckles. A lot of them.” She gestured her hand above her head. “179 centimeters tall, uncanny obsession with blond bespectacled people, into volleyball and trashy rock music.” Yachi smiled and propped her cheek against her palm.

Kageyama stared her way and she could almost visualize the gears shifting in his head as he finally squinted and uttered out. “…Who?”

Yachi smacked her palm against the tabletop energetically, slightly startling the other. “Now we’re talking! So shoot, what do you seek for in your significant other? What makes the chemical reactions hot-wire in your—“

“That’s enough,” he swiftly cut her off. The blush hadn’t relented. “What I’m looking for… um, I guess they have to be… able to keep up with me? Someone who wouldn't hold me back, someone who isn’t annoying but they shouldn't be boring. I'd pay attention to someone who is… fun to argue with?” Yachi only nodded wistfully. “And… someone I can protect… if… that makes sense…” the man trailed off, his lips sticking out into a pout as he sank lower and lower on the barstool and Yachi grabbed her heart. Oh gosh her poor heart.

“A-Anything else?” she tried to appear cool yet failed miserably, coughing like an old man. This was one of the best days of her life. Oh man, this is why she loved her job so much; it made her experience such weird happiness that getting her wage could never provide. And she did like the money that she earned with her two fragile hands, covered in burn marks.

“I don’t know what else to say. It varies.”

Yachi wasn’t satisfied with that. “There has to be more. Cheerful personality?”

“I think so?”

“What about physical appearance?”

“I seriously don’t care.”

“Brown eyes maybe? I am such a sucker for brown eyes!”

“…m...mh…”

“And I heard that tall guys like short people because they feel like they’re protecting them, so short?”

“….yup.”

“What about the hair colour?”

“… you’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“What!? No, of course not!”

“You’re blushing… And fidgeting.”

“No, you are blushing and all fidgety!”

Kageyama face-planted against the counter and covered the back of his head with his slightly trembling hands. It seemed as though someone spiked an invisible ball into the back of his head. “…light colours… Maybe… light brown o-or—”

“…Or?”

He only muttered something inaudible but Yachi’s ear was nearly pressed into those pitch-black strands so she heard it clearly. She slowly straightened up and huffed. “I cannot believe this.”

“Huh?”

“Nothing.”

Orange.

Really.

So it really was their Hinata-kun. She expected it, knew it, but to have Kageyama confirm it was… something else entirely. It felt like a religious experience, like she had climbed all of the highest mountains in the world and once she was at their peaks, she looked down and yelled at the top of her lungs.

“Kageyama Tobio has the biggest crush on Hinata Shouyou and it’s returned!”

But she couldn’t let him find out. Not yet. She decided to have some fun first.

Later that night she rang up Shouyou.

“I think I have some valuable information on how to finally woo Kageyama-kun during your grand celebration.”

Kageyama was thoroughly shocked and horrified when he received an unfamiliar number scribbled with a black gel pen on the back of his receipt. He didn’t know the number yet the name…

“Is this a joke?”

“No it’s not! He can help, trust me! Just don’t forget to have a bottle of something by your side when you ask for his services otherwise he’ll decline.”

Okay, maybe he really was that desperate to get his life back in line. Desperate enough to save the number under the name ‘Haiba Lev’.

Life messed with people. In one way or another it’s gonna fuck you over the moment you think that everything’s okay. Some people got their happy ending, had it incredibly easy. That’s what Nishinoya thought. And he never though like that. To him life was just another gamble and he was always the winner. He stayed positive because who the hell wanted to purposefully beat themselves down over every little stupid thing.

Crush didn’t return your feelings? Get over it. Crush ignored you ten times a day while at least three more men preyed on them? Get over it. You banged the crush while you were drunk out of your mind and you were unaware that you even had a crush on the said crush to begin with until the morning after and it was painfully awkward for both of you? Fuck it. Draw the line there. Let’s go get drunk.

Not drunk. Shit-faced is the correct term. Oh, Noya’s been bar-hopping alright. Somewhere at 1 am at their third bar - or was it their fourth? - he had lost Ryuu and Tora, leaving them to their own devices. Those two had work. Noya? Noya had lectures to attend to. Yeah.

Fuck, he is so skipping. Whatever. Pfft screw those presentations, man. Nobody cares.

Yuu always thought that he had control over things. He was the Man, with a capital ‘M’, he could do the impossible. And he definitely could be wise when he wanted to be, though he realized that he didn’t want to be wise or sober. Especially sober.

This club brought back hazy memories that could’ve been either true or completely fake and he stared into the distance, wobbling on his seat and reminiscing about the past like he was a hundred years old and could still clearly visualize first and second World Wars like they had happened just yesterday. Damn, he felt like utter crap but he needed to talk to someone who would understand or at least sympathize with him.

It just so happened that that someone he had in mind was definitely not his best friend’s older sister but as he had mentioned before – life.

He didn’t even know that she was working that night, hell, he didn’t even know that this was the same bar she had signed up for a year ago just for shits and giggles, intent on leaving a few months later yet hasn’t quit ever since. She still did drumming. Drumming’s hot.

His mind was losing its course again.

He saw Ryuu’s babe for an older sis, all perky tits and winged eyeliner that could stab a man and waved at her, a dumb smile stretched on his face. Saeko raised a thin eyebrow and smiled in recognition as she came up to him and leaned in closer so that Noya could hear her over the bass shaking the bartop.

“Can I help ya, Nishinoya-chan?”

Noya ignored the agitating nickname she had come up with years ago, swayed and beamed at her. “Hit me up, sis! Give me the strongeeest.” He hiccuped and Saeko made a face, their distance suddenly increasing. “Tequiuiuila you… g-got!”

Shit, that word sounded too funny to his ears. It was like grade eight and Ryuu’s birthday party all over again, except that, Noya had realized, he did not remember much of it. He remembered spending a week in a hospital with IVs plugged into his arms though. He’s never been a role-model when it came to partying. Maybe a beacon of light for nerds and social rejects alike, but definitely not someone’s example you would actively want to follow.

Saeko probably thought the same as she frowned disapprovingly yet still smirked at him just to piss him off. He didn’t react like he usually would as he merely brushed black strands of hair away from his bloodshot brown eyes. His hairdo had slipped out of its perfection. Saeko could also see that Nishinoya was two steps away from a booze induced coma and one step away from gastric lavage. “Aren’t you a bit too unstable to drink? People might think I’m handing out booze to a minor.”

“Shut up and do it. I am a paying customer.”

“Watch your speech pattern there, shorty. It doesn’t matter to me if you’re closer to Ryuu than his left ass’ cheek, but here I have the authority so I can always flag you for harassing me and interrupting my barmaid duties.” She grinned at him, a mouth full of pearly white teeth that Noya kind of wanted to punch out. Saeko’s like a sis to him - much like Ryuu who is his brother if not by blood then certainly in bond - always has been and he loves her but god was she a nuisance right now.

She’s evil. Women are evil, he decided. “You wouldn’t dare.” Noya dropped his voice into a whisper as he tried to glare but his eyes crossed funnily so he stopped before he blacked out. Saeko only put her hands on her hips and leaned down in a way that made her black spaghetti-strap shirt reveal a bit too much. Some guy to his right was ogling her and just for that Noya wanted her to stand up properly and not because he wasn’t completely interested in her ‘goods’ and lace. How was she not afraid of creepers like that one? Nishinoya fought back the urge to punch him in the face for leering at a lady like that.

“Watch me, kiddo.”

“Ryuu’s right, you are a fucking wench.”

“And you’re a rude little twerp. Now tell big sis what or who has rained on your parade?"

Whatever, she will do. He needed a good listener.

As he found out later on, Saeko was not a good listener whereas Ryuu was but we will get to that eventually.

Noya knew what a gay crisis felt like. He’s had those plenty of times before but usually brushed the confusing feelings away like they were nothing.

Example one: pretty boys in locker room back in Karasuno.

Haha yeah nice ass, no homo. Just… that guy has such a nice ass I think an angel has descended down from heavens above, touched it and blessed it, Ryuu, you do not understand. And that libero of the opponent team? Did you see how bendy he was? So cool! Incredible! I should ask him to teach me some moves but, you know, no homo.

Example two: nightly… activities.

Uh, about that guy I had on my mind last night... It was late and I accidentally… yeah, that was unintentional.

So maybe Nishinoya Yuu wasn’t as straight as he liked to think, big deal.

But the thing was that it had never crossed his mind, being… gay or bi at least. He was too into short skirts, long hair and beautiful curves. He was a disgusting ladies man who never got those said ladies to pay attention to him and he never knew what he did wrong. He got the boys though. Not in that way, but guys have always admired him, they were always naturally attracted to his hyperactive personality and good looks, and let Nishinoya tell you a very important thing: when cute boys flocked around, you paid attention to them. It was super hard not to. Unless you were a homophobic shitbag, but that’s a discussion for another time.

Nishinoya tried kissing one of his kouhais when he was in his second year of high school and it was nice and all but it never stirred any deeper feelings within him, nearly not as intense as the kisses he and imaginary Kiyoko shared in his dream land, but you know, kissing a pillow was getting old. He had to find someone else to focus on, someone who liked him back. He visualized himself holding hands with a short girl who had a pretty heart-shaped face and big brown eyes, flowing hair and a petite body. Someone he could protect. Someone he could marry someday and have twenty-five children with. Yes, Noya dreamed big.

And then came along Asahi Azumane, with his huge and intimidating build yet the way the guy moved was slightly awkward to say the least - as he was suffering from random panic attacks and was a jumpy person to begin with. Asahi with his defined muscles, broad back, dorky soul patch, big sparkling brown eyes and beautiful flowing hair and—

Noya was fucked.

He was fucked since the moment he had laid eyes on him but he never thought that it was a romantic kind of fucked. Well it was. Once again – life.

The guy had a heart of glass which Noya had to protect at all costs – actually, last year he even asked a good friend to make him a shirt that said ‘Asahi Azumane defense squad’ in big bold letters and that day he had followed the man everywhere like a lost puppy, making him thoroughly embarrassed as he asked for him to stop yet Noya refused because it was his super cool present for Asahi’s birthday – the man was simply too kind for his own good. Intimidating, but sweet. Like Hinata’s big No-Eyebrows friend.

Asahi had a meek personality though, probably an aftereffect of the social anxiety and it kind of made Noya frustrated because wussies like that were always viewed as an annoyance in his book, yet it was still endearing, it didn’t deter him, only made his affections grow stronger.

And at Kuroo’s wild and so very amazing party (10/10, would most definitely attend again) those affections popped. Combusted.

Saeko was listening to him with her eyebrows lost somewhere in her hairline yet she never lost the smile. She plotted against him, that much Nishinoya could tell. And he was right, as Saeko wondered if she should film Nishinoya staring at his palms like he didn’t recognize them to be his limbs. He had flashbacks to that night, clearly remembering his decision to make Asahi his. It wasn’t a choice anymore, it had to be done.

“The guy had his hair down and… so many guys hit on him because of that. They… they thought he was a pretty tall chick from the back.” There was something beautiful in the way Asahi’s long brown hair splayed in the artificial wind when he finally loosened up and danced with his friends, laughing like he was having the time of his life. “I just wanted to protect him from those creeps…” Asahi didn’t need to be protected, it was simply Noya acting selfish, his heart boiling with rage and blinding jealousy when Asahi would simply smile at the unworthy guys who approached him, more than half of them not one bit startled to find out that he wasn’t a sexy girl.

“And?” Saeko looked aside and winked at someone.

“And then… he turned around and looked at me and I realized how fucking stunning he is… I approached him and then… I climbed him like a tree.” Noya exhaled, as though he was amazed by the fact that he had done it.

Saeko lacked words. “Seems to me like you’re pretty into this guy.”

“Nah, sis. I’m into—” Noya burped loudly as he arched his back and made circling gestures by his chest. “Boobs. Melons. Skirts and curves and Kiyoko-san, you know. I like Kiyoko-san, I can’t like Asahi-san as well.”

“Why not?”

“It doesn’t work like that!”

“It does.”

“It doesn’t.”

“Kid, don’t you even start lecturing me about sexuality and attractions.” Saeko pointed an accusing finger his way. “You’re too shit-faced to know what you’re saying right now either way so I suggest you drag your ass back home, take a cold shower and pass out. I have work to do.” She glanced over her shoulder as some blond boy toy sauntered up to her, whispered into her ear and adjusted his bag. It took Nishinoya approximately twenty seconds to realize that this boy toy still had the bartender apparel, minus the black apron, and that he had a name.

Saeko and Akiteru, ew ew ew, gross. Poor Ryuu. One day he and Tsukishima Kei will be family. Nishinoya still hoped that he wouldn’t be invited to the future wedding, fully knowing that it would end in cakes being set on fire, anger issues and tears. Saeko did a little show for her customers as the dude that’s been ogling her boobs and ass sadly looked away and released a deep sigh, looking like a kicked basset.

She kissed her boyfriend a few times unashamedly as Noya made a disgusted face but the lovers didn’t pay attention to those around them. Noya pretended to barf - though he held himself back in case he really did start spilling his stomach content all over the floor – when Akiteru slowly let go of Saeko’s painted claws and gave her a mushy look.

“See ya later, babe!” she called out as she waved older Tsukishima’s way and Noya scoffed.

“Eww, you two are gross. Isn’t that illegal? Inappropriate work ethics? There’s a place and time for everything?”

“That’s just your newly discovered homosexual side talking.” Saeko didn’t even bother to look his way. She was suddenly chewing on a piece of bubble gum and Nishonoya didn’t want to think about how it got there. He hoped that he simply didn’t see the blonde put it into her mouth. She wiped a glass and flicked his forehead the moment she set it down. “You’re just mad you won’t be getting some tonight.”

Noya huffed. “Screw you, I can get some!”

“Yeah? Prove it!” Saeko teased and Nishinoya took out his phone out of his pocket.

He was about to make another grave mistake but to be honest? He didn’t give a fuck.

The woman got him one (and only) drink on the house and congratulated him on the sex. Whatever that meant.

Chapter Text

The rest of the week flew by in a blink of an eye, flowing “oh so smoothly”, slowly but surely draining the blond’s energy with study related stress. In hindsight, Kenma’s anxiety hadn’t been triggered too much. Everything was pretty chill, other than a few uncomfortable situations he had found himself forced into. They weren’t that bad, as they were always dispersed by Inuoka’s looming frame and the brunet’s overly bright and cheerful, albeit creepy-bordering-psychotic, smile whenever he insisted that he wanted to know what Kenma and some nameless assholes were talking about. Those guys would simply gulp and scatter away within seconds, leaving the duo be.

Though his roommate couldn’t exactly stand up for him all the time, and that meant Kenma still got asked things; general Kuroo related shit with a dash of homophobic speeches and a sprinkle of false accusations the blond hadn’t bothered clearing up. Not because he was too scared or nervous but too done with everything in general. Why bother explaining himself to some punks who won’t even believe him in the long run? His reputation, just like most of his friends had predicted, had been soiled already. No use crying over spilt milk now.

And those ganguros didn’t do a really good job at trying to terrorize his stuff. Kenma, in what he had deemed to be a stupid moment of sudden bravery, had tripped at least three of them. It was quite easy, really, those kinds of shoes shouldn’t even be in market, because clearly they weren’t made for jumping over sudden obstacles in their owner’s path. As far as Kenma was concerned, trying something like that would result in broken or twisted ankles and certainly many tears and smudged makeup so he absolutely had to test that theory out.

Yeah so other than getting gum stuck in his hair and feeling like it was high school all over again, the kind of high school setting where you see jocks slamming nerds into lockers (he was the nerd of course), Kenma learned how to tune it out. Yes, he did trip some gazelles with toothpick heels and yes, he did tell someone to fuck off (another foolish moment of bravery, or maybe it was because that day he had somehow managed to oversleep and was super late for a super important lecture) but other than that Kenma was at his best behaviour. He had cleared his mind of all unnecessary shit, only leaving stuff that truly mattered to help him fucking get this year over with goddamn- happy thoughts, happy thoughts, and he felt like a monk in search of Nirvana. Silence vows included.

And so, somehow, he had forgotten all about his date with Kuroo. And Kuroo in general.

Never a good thing to happen.

What’s a Saturday even? Did you mean: Kozume Kenma’s precious sleep day?

Because he craved that sleep and that annoying fellow just wouldn’t stop knocking on his door. Kenma had muttered something that was either ‘go away’ or ‘go away’, the choice wasn’t truly that big here, but then the knocking got worse. It sounded a lot like someone tried drilling a hole in his door at 3 am, but they had no drill and they made it up for it with a very whiny infant-like voice. Because, clearly, that's the second best choice when it comes to disturbing peace.

“Inuoka, get that please.” Kenma groaned and wiped at the excess drool that had him stuck to his pillow, the side of his hair flattened and standing up in weird angles. He rubbed at his sleep crusted eyes. “S’not even a Friday, who the hell is hiding from the guards again…”

Wait.

Not Friday?

As in… Saturday?

As in not the usual sleep day but a goddamn Saturday that he had agreed to sacrifice for Kuroo who was obviously the one scratching at his door like a particularly obnoxious cat, completed with sound imagery.

To this day Kenma does not remember a single time he had shot up from the bed this fast. It’s like he was ready to take flight.

And fly he did, all way to the door, Inuoka nowhere in sight (maybe that was for the best), shoving piles of… stuff - god what was even in there, Kenma was pretty sure they had a snake nest somewhere, probably next to that ancient pizza box - in a mock attempt to make the room… less messy, failing his task completely.

It seemed like Kuroo was indeed impersonating a pompous cat that got kicked out in the middle of a snowstorm for shredding the pillows and sharpening its nails on brand new drapes and Kenma’s face burned in embarrassment not only for the guy but the people who had witnessed or heard Kuroo’s annoying yodeling and drawled out versions of his name followed by ‘opeeeeeen uppppp I know you’re in theeeereeee’.

Who said it was a good idea to crush on this guy in the first place? Oh that’s right: bloody no one. No wait, scratch that. Shouyou. And maybe Yachi. But that’s it.

Stupid people encouraging him to do stupid things.

“Coming!” Kenma squawked, his voice not nearly as intimidating as he hoped, and he could almost visualize Kuroo perking up at the sound of it, the scratching now replaced by excited knocking.

“Babe, you’re alive!” Kenma heard him say as he threw a bunch of sweatshirts into their overflowing closet. The guy’s voice most certainly attracted unwanted attention, echoing in the otherwise empty hallway. The blond couldn’t help but cringe as he turned bright-pink-bordering-purple. “I thought you died on me!”

“I didn’t, but you surely will if you don’t shut your—” Kenma threw the door open, glaring all the while and honestly hoping to smack Kuroo’s face with it, but the guy had jumped back in time, damn his catlike reflexes. “…mouth.”

Oh.

Oh. Holy sweet baby Jesus on a pogo stick.

Kenma’s mouth instantly dried as he took in Kuroo’s impeccable appearance. Like… Kuroo was ‘wow’ no matter what he wore or how tired and hungover he looked but when he actually tried… Kenma had to rub his eyes again, hard enough until black spots danced around in his vision. Nope, he definitely wasn’t dreaming, and he was pretty sure that Sugawara’s ‘special mulled red wine’ was long since out of his system. He didn’t even have that much of it… Maybe that citrus and spices had some sort of long-lasting hallucinogenic effect on him?

But no, Kuroo was there and he was very positively real in his simple tight red shirt and offensive leather jacket, stupid ripped jeans that hugged his thighs a bit too well and combat boots that certainly weren’t fit for this kind of weather. And his hair, god, did he try taming it and then gave up on it? The mess of strands was even more wild than usual and it looked… aesthetically pleasing, yes.

If Kenma were any bolder he would’ve wolf-whistled but he had to restrain himself as he noticed Kuroo’s smirk grow in size - the dickbag obviously knew what kind of impression he had left on the other. He looked over Kenma’s shabby appearance – an oversized ratty t-shirt that he had owned since the beginning of time, a washed out Pink Floyd’s ‘Dark side of the moon’ logo on the front - really how fitting, truly undermines his heterosexuality, his dad’s gift from the time Kenma had visited him back in America nonetheless. And then that calculating gaze traveled down to Kenma’s…

“Nice undies there.” Kuroo smirked and Kenma wanted nothing more than to punch his face. Out of self-defense only of course.

His siblings, especially the blond’s little sister, thought that it would be very funny and completely not weird to buy him the most ridiculous pair of underwear they could find – light brown in colour, covered in pink cartoon cupcakes and cherries - and Kenma, being the kind big brother that he was, didn’t find it in him to throw the gift away, as silly as it was.

It was simply his unlucky day that he had happened to wear them. This was so degrading.

“Go fuck yourself,” he hissed in a moment of overwhelming crankiness, though not as angrily as he hoped, and tried to shut the door right into Kuroo’s face, too embarrassed to think about consequences. However, the taller one merely stuck his boot into the gap, his smile faltering for a mere second when the wood harshly collided with the side of his foot. Good, Kenma had thought bitterly. Serves him right for being an infuriating ass.

“Now now, let’s not get indecent in public,” Kuroo sang and snickered at the sight of Kenma’s face twisting up like he took a huge gulp of spoilt milk. That expression did little to stop him from continuing. “You’d like to watch me do that, right? That’s kinda kinky, kid. Well too bad for you, no free shows unless you feel like joining me.” Kuroo leered, his face alarmingly close to Kenma’s. The blond fought back any stupid thoughts along with the heat threatening to warm up his cheeks even more. He tried to form legible sentences but to no avail.

Kuroo decided that it would be completely okay and super funny to tease him even further because let’s face it: the guy doesn’t have a lick of common sense. “Are we having a Moment here?”

Kenma stared awkwardly, suddenly too aware that there was barely any distance between them and someone could walk by at any given moment and take this completely out of context. Then again, the blond sullenly mused, there wasn’t any to begin with. This was exactly what it looked like: the biggest flirt to ever exist trying to make a kissy face at the socially awkward nerd Kenma. Oh, it was definitely a good thing that Inuoka wasn’t there.

“Just thinking about…” Kenma whispered and lowered his lids, amber eyes flickering to the taller one’s lips for a moment. Kissable, definitely.

“About the fact that we are having a Moment?” They stretched to a smile. Shit.

“Thinking bout how much I want to slam this door into your face because-” Kenma completely ignored him as he scoffed, secretly enjoying Kuroo’s moment of confusion. He turned around and pointed at an ancient mechanical clock hanging on the left wall. “It’s not even eleven yet. When did you say we’d meet? 11.30?”

The black-haired man’s mouth formed an ‘o’. “Weeell, better late than never?”

“But how’s that…? Nevermind! Ever heard of something called ‘on time’ or even better - ‘fashionably late’?”

“What if I told you that I got really excited because I wanted to see your face and showed up early?”

“…I’m going back to sleep, bye.”

“Wait, Kenma!” Kuroo flailed his limbs in that ‘weird interpretative dance’ kind of way. “I can wait. I swear, I will behave.” He raised his right hand and drew a tiny cross in the air right over his heart. Kenma simply lidded his eyes at that, thinking.

Right then a few guys walked by and Kuroo winked at one of them, making him blush a rosy pink. He almost walked into a decorative plant standing further away.

Kenma made up his mind instantaneously.

Fuck this.

“Yeah, no. My room’s very messy at the-”

“I saw that and it ain’t worse than Bokuto’s mess. Trust me. That guy could hatch chickens in his coop for a—”

“And it will take me some time so just go outside or let’s do this later. Or never.” ‘I’m really not up for this right now’ Kenma thought, bitterly.

And so it began. Their game of cat and mouse but in an almost literal sense as Kenma squinted and stared at the pleading guy before him, not entirely certain if this was the same person from a moment ago. Damn, Kuroo truly had an annoying voice when he put his heart and soul into it.

And loud. Definitely loud enough to attract attention of some people as they poked their heads out of their rooms to check what the source of commotion was and Kenma blushed ten shades of different beet red, resolutely avoiding eye contact with every single curious person.

He was pretty sure that if someone snapped pictures of his face and sent them to professionals they would’ve either thought that they had discovered a new breed of some sort of red potato or at least a new particularly ugly colour.

He could almost visualize imaginary scientists speaking amongst themselves “Hmm, yes! Look at the ugliness of this one, I’ve never seen anything like it! Yes, we shall call it the ‘Kenma Kozume effect’. Good job boys, let’s call it a wrap for the day!”

His brain overloaded right as the scientists in his imagination began to applaud, all the while praising their discovery and once Kuroo was out of the door’s range, Kenma slammed it shut, his heartbeat rabid and clear inside his ears and throat.

It took Kuroo exactly five seconds to realize that he had been shut out. Another two to do something about it. “Kenma, pleaseeeee let me innnnn.”

“No.”

“I won’t do anythiiiiiing.”

“This is what serial killers say as they are about to murder someone.”

“…You discovered one of my secret identities but I promise I won’t attempt to stab you. You’re not my target of the day.”

“Whatever you say,” Kenma called out, back pressed against the wood to keep the menace out in case he attempted to kick the barrier down. His legs were wobbling as his social anxiety finally caught up with him. What were his ‘neighbors’ thinking right now? They put up such a shameful spectacle… He didn’t dare to think about the inevitable gossip. Calming his shaky breathing, he inhaled slowly and let out a weary sigh. “So, you just felt like embarrassing me publicly?”

“What? No, I didn’t!” At least that menace sounded completely honest. An approving hum of some indiscernible voices could be heard behind the thin door. “See? Come on, don’t get so worked up over nothing!” It’s not nothing, idiot. “Should I get inside?”

For some reason, Kenma had a gnawing suspicion in the pit of his belly that this particular question wasn’t directed his way and he wasn’t wrong when there was another wave of encouraging voices, this time a bit louder.

What was wrong with these people? Why didn’t they tell Kuroo to give up?

He… just didn’t understand.

What was it about Kuroo that was so magnetic to make people stick up to him like this? Agree with him? Was it his popularity? But didn’t he have the worst kind of reputation? Or maybe… maybe all of them were just curious about his response? What if all of this was some staged thing for the sake of winning money and everyone’s amusement in general. Kenma wouldn’t put it past those people, he knew far too many details, no thanks to Yachi because right now this thing made him too nervous than he normally should be—

And what would happen if he was to say no? Would they hate him? Would Kuroo give up and just leave? He wouldn’t, of course not?

Why was he even worrying about this as his crush was pleading to be let inside? Kuroo was right there, on the other side of this ridiculously thin door and-

Kenma’s sweaty hand was about to move to the doorknob, fear settling deep in his gut, unsure of what was the right thing to do and feeling oh so ridiculously pressured by some foolish expectations forced on him by people he didn’t even know that well, when—

“Um, what’s going on here?”

Shit. No no no…

Inuoka.

The voices died down, the door was opened and Kenma… Oh god, he had never felt more ashamed in his entire life.

-

Apparently Inuoka was probably one of the best friends he could’ve ever hoped for. Not only did he shut the door, quite firmly, right into Kuroo’s expectant face, he also promised to give Kenma some space to get dressed in peace but only - Inuoka underlined with a quite cold tone lacing his usually cheerful voice - if he was absolutely one hundred percent sure that he wanted to go out anywhere with Kuroo Tetsurou.

An underlying threat – or could it be called ‘promise’? - of kicking the guy’s ass if he was to force Kenma into anything he did not wish to do was hanging heavy in the air, as mute as it was. However, that didn’t stop Inuoka from almost far too excitedly skipping outside of their room to bond with the mentioned guy.

The blond felt sick. Almost. He got dressed in record time, rushing in his haste to stop what could be a potentially dangerous relationship in the near future.

When he walked outside, the hallway positively empty, the duo had been standing a bit further away. Kenma raised one thin eyebrow when he noticed that Kuroo was acting unusually fidgety, eyes darting around worriedly as if he was afraid that someone might turn around the corner and charge at him with a knife, his foot tapping a jittery rhythm on the carpeted floor. Inuoka’s smile seemed unusually sunny and Kenma was worried that those threats probably weren’t meant to be unvoiced to begin with. What did he tell the black-haired man?

Kuroo looked over Kenma’s slightly messy appearance - bleached hair still standing up in weird angles, jeans just a little too low, shirt just a tad too rumpled - and let out what seemed a sigh of relief. “Oh, you’re here. Took you forever.”

Kenma bit into his lower lip to stop himself from saying something passive-aggressive and only glowered, patting down the side of his head in order to flatten the stray bangs.

Inuoka pursed his lips in a pout and turned to Kuroo, smile too toothy. “You have like… five more minutes. I think that’s plenty of time to go!”

“I don’t know, man. Still kinda worried. You don’t know the guy like I do, he’s like an ace track runner when he’s… determined.”

“Oh, I’m pretty sure he’ll catch up to you guys pretty soon. But have fun either way!”

“That’s such a relief, thank you so much.” Kuroo clicked his tongue and shot the brunet a flat stare. The other was obviously unbothered by the sarcasm lacing the black-haired man’s tone as he continued smiling. They had a short stare down, sparks were flying, and with a defeated sigh, Kuroo shoved a bunch of bills into Inuoka’s waiting hand which was drawing eager patterns in the air. Kenma’s eyes widened at the display of his roommate accepting – more like grabbing – the small bunch of cash, counting it over and humming all the while like… like that was normal!?

What was going on here!?

He felt himself break out into cold sweat all over again – oh my god, was the bet thing actually true!? – but Kuroo simply took a few steps closer to him and slowly, as though approaching a wild animal, he tenderly wrapped his fingers around Kenma’s left wrist. The feeling of skin against skin sent electrifying shivers down the blond’s spine but the panicky state he was in only worsened. Dark eyes met amber and Kuroo leaned down a bit so their stares were level. The seriousness in his eyes made Kenma’s head all woozy and not in a good way.

What the hell was happening.

“Sorry for this mess, I know you’re not comfortable with this but I promise I’ll explain everything.” From the corner of his eyes, the blond saw his roommate back away and pointedly look aside in order to grant them some privacy. “I just need you to know that we will have to run really fast for some time.”

Wait.

What.

“What do you—” Kenma’s eyes widened but then Inuoka rammed himself into Kuroo’s back, sending the black-haired guy crashing into Kenma. The blond felt himself falling backwards, but Kuroo’s unoccupied hand quickly steadied him, grip almost too painful.

The two of them didn’t get the chance to say anything when Inuoka yelped, jumping around as if to rush them. “Incoming! Go go go!” He pushed on Kuroo’s back some more, putting force into it. Kenma, still in a state of severe confusion and shock that just kept progressing for the worse, heard the sound of rushed footsteps. Someone was coming up the stairs. Really fast, like they were taking three at the time.

The next few seconds went by in a blur, as Kuroo, almost as pale-faced as Kenma felt, grinned widely despite the fear reflected in his eyes. That was the last thing the blond saw as the world tilted, the grip of gravity let go of his feet and he was spun around. Suddenly he was face to face with Inuoka, the brunet’s eyes glistening in a strange way, like this was one of the best adrenaline rush inducing situations that he’s ever encountered. It took another two seconds for Kenma to realize that he had been hoisted up into the air and he was now thrown over Kuroo’s shoulder like a sack of potatoes. Out of reflex, he moved his stiff arms to grasp at the other’s jacket, fingers digging into the material. An undignified squeak ripped past Kenma’s far too much bitten at lips when Kuroo moved, almost too carelessly in order to face Inuoka.

“When should I bring him back?” He snorted, sounding like the extra weight was nothing and he had a plastic bag draped over him instead of a grown ass young man, kicking at the air uselessly in order to balance himself better.

“Bring back my princess before midnight or we’ll have a problem! And no funny stuff!” Inuoka joke-warned him and shooed them away, glancing behind as if to check on the stairs that were positively rattling like there was an enraged bull stomping towards the third floor.

“Will do!” Kuroo threw over his shoulder and the blond felt his palms pat at his thighs, centimeters away from his butt. “Pleased to make ya an acquaintance, Kenma’s guardian!”

And they were off.

-

Being the cautious person that he was, Kenma had personally checked out all of the escape routes in their dormitory just in case something ever happened. Back in the day when he had just started high school, he memorized its layout within two days. He knew which paths he should take in order to escape crowds or avoid bullies that he knew he would undeniably have. He knew all the spots where he could go to when he wanted to eat by himself or simply when he needed some time alone, usually when Yamamoto or Yaku became too much for him to handle.

Never, not even once, had Kenma imagined that the first time he took the fire escape would be like this. Draped over Kuroo’s shoulder as the he took two steps at the time, not so silently chanting ‘I’m gonna die, oh god, I’m dying, careful it’s a wall, don’t toss me around or I will kill you—‘

He hoped to heaven, earth and lastly hell that Kuroo would have a good explanation for all of this.

And in the end… maybe escaping like that was for the best. Despite the fear of POSSIBLY INEVITABLE DEATH he still… couldn’t help himself but hug Kuroo tighter even if it wasn’t vitally necessary. Maybe a small and foolish part of him kind of liked this adventure.

Kenma guessed that Inuoka and Shouyou’s enthusiasm was finally rubbing off on him. If only a little.

Yaku Morisuke thought it was a bad idea.

Not the idea of… making sure Kuroo wasn’t doing his ‘Kuroo-thing’ and wooing his precious Kenma who was obviously way too innocent and inexperienced to know any better – that was a splendid idea, mind you! - but the idea of...

Stalking is a strong word, but sadly he didn’t find a more fitting description for this. Lev was right. He still kicked the guy’s shin for it. This. Whatever this is.

Right.

Anyways, he hadn’t foreseen this sudden twist of events and he had to give Kuroo some credit for his analyzing skills, as unappreciated as they were at the moment. The taller man obviously knew that Yaku was going to do something about this… date thing.

Honestly, Yaku had no idea what gave him away. Maybe it was his rage fit when he had found out about this outing and jumped on the taller man, dragging him down to his eye level and threatening to skin him alive and then wear his remains as a cloak and cut off his ‘precious gems’ in the process and keep them as a war trophy? Naaah. A lot of guys did that, why should Yaku cause any sort of suspicion?

The point was that Kuroo gained acquaintances.

Morisuke was certain that he could expect someone like Bokuto Koutarou or Yamamoto or even Kai at his doorstep, trying to distract him from his vitally important mission to spy on Kenma and Kuroo’s outing just for the sake of making sure that the blond was okay and Kuroo was a man of his word, but he certainly hadn’t expected Inuoka. He had thought of that as a simple coincidence and indulged the other in friendly chatter, blissfully missing Kuroo sneaking out of their dorm and running to the other side of the campus like a pack of hellhounds was on his ass.

He hadn’t thought of Inuoka as cunning. A mistake.

Morisuke knew that money made the world go round but really, Inuoka was too… innocent? Like Kenma. Maybe even more so. Kenma was a smart kid, analytical, but he was being deluded. Just like a bunch of guys and girls that Kuroo had mostly three days worth of random hook-ups and one night stands with. Yaku… had to keep him safe no matter what cost. He really hoped that Inuoka would feel the same and support his side. A pity.

He asked – forced - Lev to tag along because doing this alone wasn’t that appealing and he needed some sort of excuse in case he got spotted. And Lev was the only person who answered Yaku’s plea for help ‘to destroy this filthy system’ text with a ‘lol why not’.

He had to do.

Plus Lev could actually keep up with Yaku’s speed, curse those legs for miles, and he was actually willing to dive into the Bermuda bushes with him in case of an emergency.

He simply dragged the tall guy away when he noticed that there was no way for them to catch up with Kuroo and Kenma, the next destination quite obvious.

To say that Kenma didn’t enjoy spending time with Kuroo would’ve been a really disgusting lie. After the guy explained the reason why he had barged in so early and why he was actually paying his roommate, Kenma immediately forgave him. Yaku Morisuke needed to be stopped, he had realized that years ago when the shorter male socked some random guy who was making Kenma uncomfortable with his staring. Yaku’s instinct to… ‘mom’ people was strong.

On their way to the mall, he and Kuroo chattered about a lot of useless things, once more, Kuroo doing most of the talking and Kenma listening as he played games on his phone. It was pleasant and Kuroo was actually making no obvious moves on him, other than their thighs pressing together occasionally, by accident. It was comfortable, even the small silences that fell between them when Kuroo would simply stare off into the distance, a content look on his face.

“So what are you getting Shorty for his grand birthday party?” Kuroo wondered once they were inside, a crowd of people around them, eyes scanning different stores and displays. “You never actually told me what you have in mind.”

“I’m not sure yet,” Kenma answered and swiftly avoided some lady shoving colorful flyers into his hands. Kuroo took care of that instead, rewarding the young lady with a flirty smile.

Actually, he knew what he wanted to get for his best friend. The last time they went out together like this, Shouyou had seen a pair of tiny phone charms that he absolutely loved. He tried to talk Kenma into buying them, but he had refused. To be honest, he just didn’t want to admit that he was broke at the time. Of course, his friend had huffed at him but got over it soon afterwards and dragged him away to get some strawberry ice-cream. Kenma had been saving up for those things ever since. He knew that Shouyou appreciated small details like that even though he was more into flashiness, and to have matching charms with Kenma… as cheesy as that was, he absolutely had to do it.

But Kuroo didn’t need to know this yet. He’d make the most of their ‘date’ today.

So Kenma made a beeline towards the first game store that he saw, leaving a bedazzled Kuroo behind, the taller one’s heartbeat speeding up at the glimpse of pure bliss on the blond’s face.

-

“If I had known that you were such a big nerd, I probably would’ve said something along the lines of ‘so, I heard that this great video game shop opened right around the corner of the street, please accompany me’ or ‘hey, want to go to a con with me?’ in attempt to get that date. Or flirt. I see that I’ve been using a bad approach,” Kuroo stated, eyes scanning the pile of games with mild interest. His inner nerd senses were being persistently poked at as well. It had been, what now, years?

Kenma felt the tips of his ears redden at the bluntness in that deep voice. His fingers were tracing the back of one of the games but once he saw the price he immediately shoved it back. “Your eyes have been opened.” He shrugged and inspected another game.

“I did actually hit on you, you know,” Kuroo merely hummed, nonplussed. His eyes were focused on one of the games. Kenma’s fingers twitched and he started pulling at the strands of his bleached hair, twisting them around his index finger until it turned a light shade of purple. He contemplated about what he should say.

“I-I noticed actually. And I may not have… much knowledge about that stuff, but I don’t think this is how you hit on someone. “

It was Kuroo’s turn to stay quiet as he seemingly froze, deep in thought. Then he slightly turned to get a better look at Kenma. His dark eyes were too earnest and the shorter one quickly averted his gaze. He didn’t know what to expect.

“I don’t know, it worked on everyone else. What can I say, I’m hard to resist.” The black-haired man’s tone was way too cheerful and Kenma’s stomach sank. Of course. What was he expecting, some heartfelt confession? They were just… looking for a present and. Wasting time. Yeah. “Even if I did suck with my approaches, you should’ve said something. Given me pointers?”

“No.”

Kuroo exhaled through his mouth as he rubbed the back of his neck. “…Well, you didn’t have to pour boiling tea all over me back then; the girl I was talking to was actually my cousin. Came all the way from Kyoto to visit her boyfriend. Didn’t little Yacchan tell you? I always assumed you two were on good terms?”

Why was he bringing that up right now? It still made Kenma cringe whenever he remembered that particular evening and the way Kuroo’s shirt clung to his chest as he pulled at the wet fabric and the way Lev had to shield him from Bokuto just in case. The string of curses and the muffled ‘what the fuck is wrong with ya, kid, you could’ve injured someone like that!’ still rang clearly inside his head, particularly loud whenever Kenma had trouble falling asleep and unwillingly projected every single embarrassing event that has happened to him since he was five.

And how was he supposed to know that that girl was his…cousin…

Kenma felt himself beginning to shake like an angry Chihuahua, a lump forming in his throat as he reluctantly remembered the rave and his encounter with Yachi Hitoka. His response at the time?

‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

Damn it.

She was actually trying to explain the situation and he had it in him to shut her out completely. He... He fucked up this bad? She only tried to make it better, make it work somehow.

It was all his fault in the end.

“It’s… not her fault,” Kenma whispered defensively, his mood plummeting down at the speed of light. “Sorry.”

“That’s all in the past, seriously, it’s fine,” Kuroo casually waved it off, a tad too fast. He had probably noticed the aftereffects of his careless words. Kenma was slowly shrinking in on himself. “You made it up for me, really.”

The blond only stayed silent and Kuroo looked around as though searching for some help only to find none. In the end he sighed and slowly pushed the curtain of fragile blond hair away from the shorter boy’s amber eyes, startling him. Kenma took a cautious step back, throat strangely sore like he had been yelling for a while.

“It’s okay now,” Kuroo repeated himself, voice firm, but he made no further move to touch the other. “We’re here right now, so let’s just leave that in the past, ‘kay?”

It took an incredible amount of strength for the short blond to reluctantly nod his head.

Kuroo was probably some sort of angel full of patience in disguise, Kenma had thought cautiously as he was dragged from store to store while the other ranted about Tsukishima’s last year’s birthday party. Strangely enough it stirred no feelings of jealousy inside the blond’s heart. Partly because Kuroo had announced that Tsukishima Kei will not be attending Hinata’s ‘super awesome birthday fest’ because he was too busy being a prudish nerd and studying. Kuroo’s face had fallen when he relayed the news to the shorter one but that minuscule mood swing was gone in the blink of an eye, almost as if it hadn’t been there to begin with. Kenma felt a bit bad, after all it seemed that Kuroo and the taller blond had a history together and without the other’s presence Kuroo would still feel a little sad. Out of place even.

“We’re taking lots of pics for that nerd man,” he said resolutely and dragged Kenma inside a bookstore of all the places.

He was about to tell Kenma about the part of Kei’s birthday that involved inflatable dinosaurs and a slip n’ slide that was only 30 percent water when he stopped mid sentence, eyes focused on something. He immediately stumbled towards it. Kenma slowly trudged behind, his caution levels skyrocketing and he discreetly peered at the paperback that Kuroo clutched in his shaking hands. He bit the inside of his cheeks once he had taken a good look at the cover in order to hold back a snort.

Shoujo manga.

Kuroo Tetsurou, who had called him a ‘big nerd’ was holding the final volume of ‘Star roads’, flipping through the pages with almost frantic urgency.

Kenma had to reprimand himself from asking something that was either a ‘why’ or ‘how’. His mood was steadily getting better. He watched the taller one flip to page 76 and freeze, an undignified huff escaping his mouth.

“This is such bullshit!” He hissed and dropped the volume back. “I was rooting for Himeko-chan! It made so much sense, I should probably”— he stopped his enraged rant as if he just remembered whom he was with.

Slowly, so slowly that Kenma could visualize Kuroo’s muscles moving, he turned around, face beet red. Trying his best to destroy the spark of sudden tension, the taller one ran his fingers over that disheveled mess of black hair in a failed attempt to seem casual. “Um, it’s… my siblings are into this and. Uh I guess I should buy that for-”

Kenma couldn’t hold back a small snort. “I thought you were an only child?”

The other’s dark eyes widened, pupils dilating. He blinked a few times as though he was having a hard time processing those words. “You were actually listening to that?”

“Seems so.”

Kenma’s confirmation seemed to have unnerved him in some way as he turned fidgety and shook his head a little bit as if he was having a hard time coming to terms with the fact that someone was actually listening to him speak about his personal life. He couldn’t blame the guy. He probably didn’t get to meet a lot of… attentive listeners, and his friends didn’t seem to be the best advisers out there. ‘Drink first, talk later, forget everything the day after’ Yamamoto had told Kenma once. It was quite sad in a way.

“Maybe… I lied?” Kuroo tried to feign a smile and that… That was the least convincing lie that has ever escaped right about anyone and Kenma had heard those far too many times when Shouyou went into his denial mode and tried to erase Kageyama’s existence.

“Rikka told him how she felt in volume eight,” Kenma said somewhat casually and stepped around Kuroo, picking up one of the many volumes set on display, flipping through it. “Himeko discovered that he was in charge of the gang who stole her bag. Shin didn’t really love her that much.” The blond could feel Kuroo’s eyes drilling holes into the side of his face. From parallel vision he saw the other’s shock and the way his jaw slackened. “It was kind of obvious that they wouldn’t work around that past bullying thing.”

After the initial surprise had worn off Kuroo firmly shook his head in disbelief and laughed, one eyebrow raised. At least he no longer had that ‘lost child’ look on his face. “You really are a big nerd. How come you’re reading stuff like this?”

Kenma met his gaze, strangely determined as a small cynical smile graced his lips. “I really do have a younger sister. She likes this series a lot. What’s your excuse?”

That shut him up.

Later on Kenma would find out that Kuroo used to be a huge fan of the same stuff the blond has always adored since he was a child but, unlike Kuroo, he never moved on. The black-haired man muttered something ominous about ‘growing up too fast’ and bought the last four volumes that he had missed, determinedly avoiding eye-contact with the far too amused cashier, the back of his neck and his ears burning.

Kuroo was a people person. Hell, anyone who got to know the guy better was painfully aware of it. Though, even if he did enjoy socializing or at least making some connections, he never exactly involved himself in every possible friend group. It was still quite obvious that even if he did avoid, or at least tried to, certain groups, he was an inseparable part of them without trying.

Unlike Kenma, he had no problem fitting in. People gravitated towards him, effortlessly spotted him in crowds and of course had to go out of their way to say hello. By the end of the day, Kuroo had greeted like twenty people, half of them which he had tackled from behind, but not before asking for Kenma’s permission and apologizing for running off. It kind of shocked the blond, but he still let Kuroo do his thing as he patiently waited, looking away just in case he would be recognized.

Not exactly a good cover up since his, what Yachi had dubbed ‘pudding hair’ was a dead giveaway, but he had to try.

It made Kenma painfully aware that he was quite a loner with little-to-no friends and the people he had actually bothered talking to could only be called acquaintances and no more. He felt a little jealous and by the time it was 6.30 pm – whoa, where did the time go? – he was feeling rather emotionally drained.

Then Kuroo absolutely had to check out one of the countless stores on the first floor coz he was in a desperate need of jeans, so desperate that apparently it couldn’t wait and then they ran into… oh golly, so much joy, the ganguros on a shopping spree, a bunch of bags clutched in their painted claws.

Thankfully, they weren’t that close to their queen bee so they didn’t immediately try to destroy Kenma’s life via well-placed stinging insults or disgusting bubble gum. Nor did it seem like they recognized him right away. They flocked to Kuroo, one of them giggling gleefully when the black-haired man gave her a one-armed hug – Kenma took immense satisfaction in the way Kuroo’s face twisted up like he was really unwilling to do this – while the other one, after some useless chatter had commenced, not so discreetly whispered.

“Hey, so… Are you, like, dating this kid?”

Kuroo was about to open his mouth to say something, eyebrows slanted down, but the girl that he had reluctantly hugged joined her snickering pal. “Tetsu.” Kenma noticed his frown deepen. “Who is the…” She faked a coughing fit and Kenma pretended to be extremely interested in the tips of his dusty sneakers, his face heating up with shame. Stop staring, look away. “Who’s the girl in the relationship?” She snorted and started laughing when her friend elbowed her ribs in a mock attempt to shut her up.

How rude, Kenma thought, as Kuroo’s eyebrows shot up, his lips parted. They suddenly stretched into a cocky grin and the blond felt cold sweat gather at the nape of his neck. Way to go. Provoking that guy? Bad idea.

Nonetheless, he was curious.

“Excuse me for a sec, ladies.” He winked at them, all exaggeration and… and possibly evil intentions? He beckoned Kenma to follow him. “Please wait for a bit.” Snickering. That one definitely sounded sinister.

When they were further away, Kenma stopped dead in his tracks, eyeing the other. “What is this all about?” he whispered lowly just in case, though the girls were far far away by now and there was zero possibility of someone hearing them. No one was around and strangely it made him even more fidgety.

“I’m gonna show ‘em something good.” Kuroo stated and pushed at the shorter boy’s lower back, a sign for him to run along. “You should go have some fun, just don’t go near them.”

“You don’t have to warn me.” Kenma rolled his eyes and turned his head away to hide his smile. “Just don’t take half an hour like last time.”

“Whoops, picky me. Don’t worry; I’ll be done in five. “

-

Kenma gravitated towards hoodies, considering whether he should waste some cash or just keep it for the future refills of his junk food stock when he heard audible gasps behind him. Startled, he clutched the particle of clothing close to his chest and with wide eyes whirled around in order to inspect the sounds of distress. He really hoped that he didn’t look like he was trying to get rid of the price tag and it wasn’t security, but once he saw what it actually was, he thought that he would much rather deal with ten security guards and battle a battalion of SWAT teams than deal with this.

The girls from before stood a little further away near the changing rooms, some bags spilled on the floor. The insulting one was covering her mouth in mild horror, shock and maybe something close to desire on her face and Kenma cursed because he actually felt that girl so much.

His eyes unwillingly drifted to Kuroo’s bare thighs, so much skin, oh no it was doing things to his blood circulation and stopped at the hem of a plaid skirt.

A skirt. Of the miniskirt kind.

Really.

The asshole was grinning his best shit-eating grin and once he noticed Kenma’s stare, he fluttered his long eyelashes, put his hands near his mouth and called out to him, voice sickeningly sweet and girly.

“Honey, come here! Look at this skirt! Isn’t it great?” He did a twirl, the skirt going up and Kenma tried his best to unsee the stripe of Kuroo’s red boxers. He couldn’t move, that hoodie still clutched in his sweaty hands, almost tearing the fluffy grey fabric.

Kuroo huffed in an overly exaggerated fashion and stomped his foot for the show. He practically skipped to the blond’s unmoving and tense figure, hugging his shoulders as he turned to face the girls, his smile turning strained, face falling just a little. His grip turned almost protective and Kenma stared at the shocked gazes of not only the ganguros but some other people as well. The black-haired man’s scent that he was beginning to memorize flooded his senses, his leather jacket rubbing against the side of his cheek.

This isn’t happening no no no. But then Kuroo spoke up, reminding Kenma that this was no nightmare that he could wake up from and then laugh away. “I hope this answers your question. Look at me, I’m the hottest girl with the best legs and this boy is soooo lucky!” he sang and Kenma felt the taller one’s powerful thigh press slightly into his waist. He made no move to touch the limb and Kuroo was probably beginning to develop some sort of mind connection with him as he grabbed Kenma’s rigid palm and pressed it down to the skin, pushing the poor blond’s fingers inwards so they were digging into his tanned skin.

His brain was short circuiting and either his vision was going white or someone flashed a pic of them. Kuroo leaned on him even further for balance and stuck his tongue out. “Fuck your gender roles,” he simply said, face stern, and thankfully lowered his leg. He brushed off invisible dust from his jacket and fixed the skirt. “Who the fuck even cares? It’s none of your business who I date or fuck to begin with. See ya.” He smiled in that absolutely mocking way, flashed a peace sign, and waved them off.

The girls scrambled to get their bags and stormed outside as fast as their heels could carry them. Kuroo glared after them until they were out of sight and let out a huff. He scratched at the back of his head, shoulders sagging a little. “Sorry bout that. I’m probably pushing my luck too much here but I’m getting really sick of ‘em and. Yeah, sorry. Really.” He looked away and Kenma…

He wasn’t mad. In fact he felt strangely happy and elevated. He didn’t even care about the spectacle they put up, not right now at least. He shot Kuroo a smile. “It’s fine. You… showed them.”

Kuroo flashed his white teeth at him. “But I really do look good in a skirt. I’m going to buy it.”

“Don’t push it.” Kenma hid his laughter behind his palm and Kuroo pulled the ancient curtain of the cabin away.

“Just kidding. Never had any cash for this to begin with.” He winked and dived in, leaving Kenma alone with his thoughts and a rapidly heating face.

Oh.

Oh.

Chapter Text

“Babe, you’re beautiful.”

“No.”

“Your voice is that of an angel whispering into my ears.”

“Stop.”

“You have the best smile and beautiful eyes and I want you so much right now—”

“Jeez, fine! I’ll buy you the damn burger, just stop!” Kenma never raised his voice but his embarrassment was apparent on his face and Kuroo didn’t exactly bother to keep his voice down. The puppy eyes did it for him, it had to be them. They waited in a queue to get their share of greasy food and Kuroo was an actual hobo with no cash, only one weapon, aka whining the blond’s ears off, at his disposal.

‘Not my fault this beach party is sucking out the last of my income,’ he had complained and Kenma merely rolled his eyes. This is what happens when people party too much.

Some guy in his thirties glared at them and covered the ears of his five year old son, turning him away. Kenma could’ve sworn that he heard something about ‘goddamn mistakes of nature’. What a nice man.

They made the mistake of sitting close to the entrance, visible to everyone possibly twenty meters away. Kuroo was about to bite into his burger that he had so creatively whined out of Kenma when his eyes widened, gaze fixed on something outside the window barrier. His expression was something straight out of a comedy but the blond knew that it didn’t mean anything good. They still had ‘Code Mom: Yaku Morisuke’ to deal with. Kenma was about to analyze his surroundings but Kuroo coughed and set the burger down.

“Don’t,” he warned and pushed his drink closer. “They’ll notice you.”

“When can I look?” Kenma asked and fidgeted on the metal chair, trying to relax but failing miserably. The tip of his sneakers skidded the floor.

Kuroo copied his movements, although he was nailing the chill vibe and threw his arm over the back of the chair, nodding his head slightly to the left. Kenma took it as a ‘good to go’ and felt that irresistible urge to facepalm when he noticed the tip of Yaku’s gingerish brown head peaking out from behind of some decorative vases. It could’ve easily been mistaken for some dead plant, that is if you were ignorant enough or had severe eyesight problems, but what ruined the ‘super secret and totally not obvious in any way’ disguise was Lev. The tall man tried to shove his thin body behind some palm, almost succeeding in his task; however, his head was blatantly peaking out through the side as he pretended to glare, a bunch of leaves stuck in his messy hair and was that war paint or was Kenma just too tired?

Kuroo hid his laughter with a series of coughs. “So…” he trailed off. “Wanna get the hell out of here?”

The shorter one didn’t have it in him to lie. “Yes, very.”

Kuroo grabbed his burger and Kenma sent a longing look at his plate of French fries. They went outside, walking almost a tad too fast, the blond falling a few steps behind. Kuroo whistled, still holding onto the burger, knowing far too well that they were being followed. A tall half-Russian guy was certainly hard to miss plus the windows of different stores provided a good view of their stalkers casually crouching down behind trashcans and benches in order to go by unnoticed.

This game lasted until Kuroo brought them to the second floor, right at the exit that led to the parking garage. Kenma almost walked into the taller one’s back when he stopped abruptly and turned around, catching the stalkers off guard. Yaku’s eyes became the size of saucers and Kuroo laughed obnoxiously.

“Found ya!” he yelled and so Kenma’s money aka the burger was chucked high into the air, forming a graceful arc. Time seemingly slowed down, yet Yaku reacted instantly and grabbed Lev’s upper arms in order to use him as a human shield. The burger splattered against the taller man’s leaf-adorned hair, mayo running down the side of his face.

“Fifty points!! Fuck you, Leg!” Kuroo roared, laughing so much he was doubling up and close to crying while Lev gingerly touched the side of his face, licking off the mayo stuck to his upper lip.

Kenma watched in mild horror and amusement as the bun and lettuce slid down the side of his tall friend’s jaw but he had no time to think as Kuroo firmly took hold of his wrist and started tugging him towards the exit. “Time to run, Juliet!” he laughed as shouts of anger echoed behind them.

Kenma’s lungs were burning and his legs were possibly trembling when they finally stopped, two floors above. Their stalkers had given up quite easily, thinking that the duo went downstairs and made their great escape. Kuroo’s chest was heaving a bit too much and he coughed, slowly lifting himself up.

“Should probably quit smoking,” he said and Kenma was too tired to reply to it. He simply grabbed the hand that was offered to him and got hoisted up. They were hiding behind a black jeep. Kenma dusted off the back of his dirty jeans, trying to steady himself. If Kuroo wanted to quit then maybe Kenma should start working out. He was noodle-thin, simply shameful.

“They’re gone?” he wheezed and leaned against the side of the jeep, thankful that it wasn’t dirty.

Kuroo hummed an affirmative in the back of his throat and ran a hand through his hair, making the strands stick out. By now they had considerably mellowed out.

It was almost deadly quiet except for the sounds of traffic four floors under them and Kenma suddenly visualized Lev’s face oozing mayo. Maybe he was too tired to think straight or care but right then he couldn’t help but choke out a strangled snort. The quiet sound attracted his date’s attention and he suddenly joined in and eventually they started laughing. The sounds of glee filled the almost eerily void of life parking lot and Kenma was doubling over, squeezing his stomach as he giggled.

“I-l’ll pfffft, pay you back…! For the burger.” Kenma pressed a hand to his mouth. “Shit, should’ve taken a pic.” Kuroo wiped at the stray tear that had escaped his eye. “Man, Yaku’s gonna be furious.”

“I’d like to disagree. Have you seen his face?” Kenma took in a calming breath, but it escaped his lungs in a form of yet another bubbling laughing fit. “He was enjoying this almost as much as we did.”

“Yeah, true,” Kuroo agreed and moved closer to the rail. It was already getting dark. The stripe of red sky was being ever so slowly consumed by cobalt blue. Kuroo let the wind brush against his face as he stretched and the shorter boy shyly moved closer to him. They stood there in a content silence until the black-haired man spoke up. “Did you like spending time with me today?” he asked, too earnestly, carefully analyzing Kenma’s seemingly expressionless face.

The blond couldn’t help but crack a smile though he tried to play it cool. “It was… okay I guess.” It was amazing.

Kuroo simply smiled at him. “That’s good enough for now. Though next time I would like you to say something like ‘great’ or even ‘fantastic’.”

“Keep on dreaming,” Kenma said, a tad tired. He was beginning to feel sluggish. The idea of his bed waiting for him was really tempting.

As if he truly was reading his thoughts, Kuroo pushed himself away from the rail and shoved his hands into his pockets, rocking back and forward on his heels. “The night’s not over yet. Let’s go. There’s something I gotta show you. And… I have some business to attend to as well.”

Kenma didn’t question it, only let Kuroo carefully sling an arm over his shoulders and lead the way, somehow managing to find comfort in their proximity.

“I don’t drink.”

“We’re not here to drink, so you can relax,” the black-haired man simply said as he opened the door to what Kenma deemed to be a shady bar. It was located at the city center, but still. Back alleys? Not creepy at all. Kenma figured that if he didn’t have someone of Kuroo’s size and strength by his side, he wouldn’t dare thread these alleys no matter how much he wanted to go inside the… Underground music pub/club/bar? What could this place even be referred to?

The entrance was well lit and the stairs led downwards, the space small and almost confining. Kenma felt like he was seven years old all over again, too afraid to go to the basement of his own house. At least the stairs back at his place were normal and not something made of stone, in fact, everything was made of stone. Kuroo almost had to bend so the tip of his hair wouldn’t brush the low ceiling and Kenma thought that if Lev was to go here, he would seriously have to double over.

Their descend was far too long to suit Kenma’s tastes. They stopped before a dark blue curtain and Kuroo wasted no time pushing it aside. It seemed that this was a place he often frequented. At least he knew what he was doing.

To Kenma’s surprise, the pub, definitely a pub, was nice enough, dimly lit, somewhat cozy and it had that… foreign air to it. The simple patterned stone walls, a huge bar, and a bunch of round small tables made of quality wood made the place seem strangely welcome. A stage, bathed in dimmed yellow and green lights stood further ahead, instruments at ready, waiting to be played. Kuroo led them to one of the round tables further away from the stage but still providing a great view. A waitress immediately hopped up to them, jotting down Kuroo’s ‘usual’ order while Kenma stuck with a glass of mineral water.

“What do you think?” Kuroo relaxed, jacket thrown over one of the empty chairs. The blond tried his best not to stare at the other’s muscles moving under that shirt as the guy folded his arms before him. Thankfully he didn’t make eye contact.

“It’s nice…?”

“It’s about to get even better,” Kuroo said mischievously, pressing his chin on top of his crossed forearms. Kenma, uncertain of how to respond to that comment, simply nodded, and took out his phone.

They didn’t do any actual talking, except for exchanging an occasional word or two. The shorter one started a new game on his phone while Kuroo watched him with curious eyes, fingers tracing the patterns of a glass full of some sort of alcoholic drink.

Kenma was too lost in gunning down some beasts and completing the mission with only one life point left to notice Kuroo’s analytical gaze and the fact that the crowd was applauding the new band that was about to provide some background music. Kuroo reluctantly poked at his hand and Kenma bit back a groan. Messed up his combo.

He peeled his gaze away from that obnoxious ‘game over, sucker’ flashing on his screen, ready to say something, but Kuroo merely pointed his finger in the direction of the stage and Kenma looked up, sucking in a sharp breath when his eyes met the singer’s – or was he just a simple guitarist? - dark lidded eyes, reflecting the same kind of surprise.

“No way.” The breath left his lungs as though it had been punched out. He looked at the man before him and back at the stage. “I never knew!”

“No one does,” Kuroo said casually and shot his trademark smirk at the singer, who had been tuning his guitar mere seconds ago. The initial surprise in the guy’s eyes dwindled, slowly replaced by pure annoyance, an unspoken ‘we’ll talk about this later’ hanging in the air between them. “No one except for me, Bokuto and now - you.”

Kenma’s brain still couldn’t wrap itself around the fact that he was witnessing Akaashi Keiji, the strict and worried self-proclaimed mom figure to all of them, on stage, in some shady pub, fingering at chords of his guitar to check if it sounded right and commanding some guys who were tweaking their own respective instruments.

This night was just too wild.

“I guess now I know what that big case was…” Kenma murmured to himself and nervously played with some strands of his hair. Right, and he was supposed to be the smart and observant one…

This was probably no good. There had to be a good reason why Akaashi had never told him about his (quite obvious) mysterious disappearances. And now he felt like he was invading the other’s privacy by witnessing something he wasn’t supposed to. However, he would be lying to himself if he said that he wasn’t at least a bit curious about how the guy’s singing voice would sound. Akaashi sounded monotone and really bored on daily basis, but the fact that suddenly all of the tables around them were occupied almost taunted Kenma with the fact that he actually knew nothing about the said older man.

They didn’t have to wait for long. The entire time Akaashi was focusing on the far left corner, on them, eyes slightly unsettled. He chewed on his lower lip almost anxiously, but then he actually smiled wow when show time began. The fans cheered and Kuroo enthusiastically clapped as well as if to encourage the other.

Kenma didn’t really know what he expected but it was almost exactly as he had imagined. Calm yet somewhat jazzy music filled the air as Akaashi sang, his voice carrying actual emotion. It wasn’t something god-sent but it was certainly pleasant to listen to. Kenma’s eyes drifted to the blond guy providing backup with his bass and the short man calmly setting the rhythm on his drums. Kenma hadn’t seen those guys on campus or in class so he figured that Akaashi had found his bandmates elsewhere. They seemed the same age and if he hadn’t known any better, the blond would’ve assumed that they played something that was of trashy rock variety judging by their dress-code alone.

“Those hipster glasses really do provide some disguise.” Kuroo stopped Kenma’s train of rapid thoughts. “Boy’s even got his piercings on display.”

Kenma looked over Akaashi again for further inspection. The thick frames of his glasses really did make it seem like this wasn’t their Akaashi at all. He was dressed simply compared to the others, no heavy boots or ripped jeans. Still. Something was new.

“Why isn’t he in some music school…” Kenma wondered out loud. “He’s more than decent in what he does. And it seems that he… enjoys it?” He’s happy, Kenma noted. Definitely happy.

Kuroo downed the rest of his drink, making a face when it burned his throat. Good stuff. “That was the original plan but it kinda got… fucked up and now he’s stuck with us. ‘S a long story.” He shrugged, sending a lingering look at the stage. “But I think we have time.”

Akaashi doesn’t make it a habit to perform too often during night time, valuing his sleep far more. He does it for pleasure instead of money, no matter how much of the latter one he needs. He thinks that he balances his social life, study time and night job pretty well, but still, there are dark bags under his eyes and a certain air of weariness around him. Kenma understands him perfectly.

“The manager’s taken a liking to him. He brings quite the income,” Kuroo supplied, another glass of the same concoction held loosely between his fingertips. “We never really mention his workplace; he’s not a celebrity, nor does he want others to know. He likes keeping a low profile. Pretty sure you can see that.” Kenma’s eyes subconsciously traveled to the man’s glasses, reflecting shades of green and orange and murky red.

…They really were invading his privacy, weren’t they?

They so were.

“His goal was the music industries. Worked his ass off in order to get a shot at the entrance exam. He got in but then the problem bout payment for studies kicked his ass. He didn’t get those two vitally necessary points for a scholarship and since the competition is insane and… you only get one try per year, so he had to drop out. The study price is colossal and he absolutely refuses to let his parents pay for his studies. He’s got a big family, six Akaashis waiting to be fed.”

“And then… he got in here… Wasn’t his math score really high?” Kenma felt like shit. That was the only thing that Akaashi had actually told him about his personal life and his career choices. Honestly, the guy needed to be out there in stage lights and not some stuffy office doing his accounting shit.

“Bingo! Now he’s just working his ass off all the time, slowly losing his mind over shit he’s not even interested in. So please forgive him for yelling all the time and just being miserable and cranky and basically running on coffee. You guys are obnoxiously loud and he can’t afford a better place to stay at. This is the best he’s got.”

After a moment of contemplative silence from Kenma’s side, Kuroo kept on talking. “To be honest, I had no idea who this guy was until one night Bokuto and I went bar hopping and stumbled upon his performance. It was one of his first live shows with only fourteen spectators at the time, us included. Bokuto was instantly smitten by him, how cute. “

The black-haired man’s eyes turned dreamy and there was a strangely nostalgic smile on his face as he took a small sip of the bitter liquid. Kenma’s ears reddened the tiniest bit when he heard the story of how Bokuto had met Akaashi. It sounded something close to a romance novel and strangely enough he could see it play out quite easily.

The end of the performance. Akaashi thanking people who had showed up and actually stepping off the platform to get to know them better, Kuroo gasping dramatically, because can you really believe that stage persona? Who could’ve pegged him as that type of guy?

Shy but somewhat curious gazes exchanged, Bokuto teetering on the edge in an unusually unconvinced manner because what if that beautiful boy over there was to reject him?

“Told him to stop being a pussy,” Kuroo snickered quietly and rubbed at his forehead. “I mean, the guy purposefully kept passing our table, and glancing at Bokuto. There was no way in hell he would’ve gotten rejected. In the end I was the one who got the courage to ask him to join us for a drink. It was amusing to watch. Then that stupid owl used his dork charms and wooed innocent Akaashi within the span of five minutes. Two dates later they’ve become an unofficial item.”

Kenma noticed that the singing had stopped some time ago, Akaashi’s fingers strumming at the strings of his guitar, the notes of a closing.

A group of college students seated at the front clapped wildly and begged for an encore and Akaashi’s smile was a tad shy when he gave an okay to his eager bandmates.

“Time’s up,” Kuroo whispered, standing up and pushing the chair back. Kenma copied his movements and followed the taller man to what he assumed was the backstage, the crowd’s cheering still ringing in his ears.

-

“Can I ask you what the hell were you exactly thinking?” Akaashi spat, his face almost dark red with anger. This was the first time Kenma had seen the older one this pissed off and all of the tomfoolery Bokuto Koutarou and the rest of their ‘hobo building’ had pulled off just to get the black-haired man’s attention or annoy him purposefully went blank in comparison.

Kenma took a small side-step, subconsciously hiding behind Kuroo’s larger frame in case he was to be blamed. In a fit of nervousness, he started biting the already painfully short nail of his thumb. He had never felt more ashamed and when he saw a strange glint of what seemed as disappointment in Keiji’s eyes, he wanted nothing more than to get on his knees and dig a tunnel that led to China.

The tension which made the other’s shoulders stiffen slowly left his muscles and with another deep inhale, he collected himself. The look in those dark eyes softened considerably when he noticed that the blond was beginning to tremble. “Of course, I don’t blame you, Kenma…” he assured in his usual quiet voice, the smallest hint of a smile pulling at his thin lips.

That didn’t make Kenma feel any better, only worse. As if sensing his distress and silent praying for magical help, Kuroo discreetly shuffled to the side to shield the blond away from Akaashi’s anger that was certainly to rise again once he delivered his request. Plus those curious gazes that Komi and Konoha shot the shorter boy’s way didn’t make him too happy. “No need to be embarrassed,” Kuroo tried to pacify the other, obviously hitting the wrong nerve as the angry flush returned to Akaashi’s face, ten times as strong.

He seemed left speechless as he gaped, trying to form sentences. Eyebrows slanting down into a displeased frown, he lifted up a shaky finger to probe at Kuroo’s chest, just for the sake of hiding his discomfort if nothing more. “I…I don’t want to hear any of this! What do you need? You don’t exactly come here without some weird goals inside your stupid head.”

“You wound me! But you also know me so well.”

“Spit it out.”

“Do you want to maybe sit down for this?” Kuroo tried in a failed attempt to loosen the other up but he only received a sharp stare in return. What a tightass. There was absolutely no help for this man. Before he was hit across his head and possibly kicked the hell out by the other, and damn did Akaashi have strength, enough of it to carry Bokuto around like he weighed no more than Kenma, he steeled himself for the worst. Now or never.

“I – actually we, want you guys to perform at the beach fest. Payment is booze, fun time and Bokuto in a skimpy speedo – exclusively for Akaashi, ladies, so don’t worry. Or money. If you want to be boring.”

The ticking of the clock and muffled noises behind a paper thin door have never sounded so loud. If any of them were to drop a pin, it would sound like a stampede of elephants.

Kenma almost squeaked in fright when the short drummer guy with a strange undercut hooted and his blond pal joined in as they high-fived. “Hell yeah, that’s a big yes!”

That meant nothing because Kuroo didn’t move and the guys immediately crowded around their shocked singer, pushing him around excitedly, pleading. “C’mon, Akaashi-kun, it’ll be the best!”

“Yeah, have you heard? It’s the best thing that’s gonna happen and we get to finally show ‘em what we got!”

“Pretty please!?”

It lasted for another two minutes at most before the black-haired man snapped, pushing his overly cheerful bandmates away. He shook his head furiously yet in a strangely defeated manner, face pale. “No. This is out of the question.”

“But-“

“I said no!” he repeated himself, this time more firmly. The faces of the duo fell and Kuroo felt the urge to step in.

“Come on, it’s about time you-”

“Didn’t you hear me?” And there was that hiss of utter anger. Akaashi ran twitchy fingers over his wavy hair, offended beyond belief. “You have no right to decide for me, in fact, who the hell let you come in here and ask me for something this… this insane! I can’t!”

“Can’t because you don’t want to or can’t because you’re scared of others finding out?” Jaw clenched just a little too tight, Kuroo had the audacity to actually glare at the other. Komi's eyes darted to him and Konoha's ever-present strained smile fell in an instant.

‘No. No no no, he’s pushing it, he’s pushing this too much,’ Kenma thought frantically, tugging at the back of Kuroo’s jacket as if to hold him back in case a fight broke out, earning a quick glance and a curt nod.

‘It’s okay,’ it said and Akaashi, out of words, sank onto the nearest chair, looking at his reflection in the mirror. The small lamps rounding its metal frame illuminated his tired face, making him seem way older than he actually was. He closed his eyes.

“Leave. Please. I’m not doing it and that’s final.” He sighed and leaned back in the chair, eyes focused on the cracked ceiling. He seemed drained, physically and emotionally.

Kuroo still refused to move and Komi brushed past him, his hands raised up a little in case he had to guard his face or something and he whispered a silent ‘you should go, I’ll handle this. Text you later.’ The man slowly approached the singer, palms resting on Akaashi’s shoulders as he leaned in to whisper something into his ear in an attempt to soothe him. It seemed to be working, Kenma noticed, and he took a step back only to almost crash into the taller blond’s front. His hands quickly shot out to steady him, silver rings glinting in the dimmed light.

“And that’s a wrap for the day,” he drawled out, looking away from the guy he loosely held onto and back at Kuroo. “Mind waiting for a few mins? I’ll go get my stuff.”

“Sure,” the black-haired man muttered, mood obviously turned to shit as he shoved his hands into his pockets and stormed outside, barely restraining himself from kicking a chair. Kenma sent a lingering look over his shoulder hoping to catch a glimpse of Akaashi, but the blond man noticed him instead and made shooing hand movements, a small smile on his face.

Kuroo didn’t exactly seem to be in the talking mood as they waited in another back alley, even shadier than the one where the club’s entrance lied. Night wind was ruffling Kenma’s bleached strands and he subtly rubbed his upper arms, suddenly feeling cold. He didn’t dare to take out his phone and let the far too heavy silence drown them. Occasionally Kuroo would mutter something dark or curse and before Kenma knew it, a cigarette was dangling between his lips. It was the first one Kenma had seen him take that day.

Eventually the heavy metal door opened with a dull creak and the punkish looking blond stepped out, inhaling the fresh air, stretching out his arms, grinning all the while. His fox-like features developed some playful edge to them as he glanced at Kuroo. “You piece of shit, ruined the first whiff of actual wind with all of this smoke.”

“Fuck off,” Kuroo replied with almost no feeling to it and shook out another cancer stick. The other gladly accepted the offering, a purple lighter at ready. “Hypocrite,” Kuroo snorted and the blond merely ‘tsk’ed at him.

“Worry not, dear friend, for we will perform at your shitty rip-off for Vienna ball.”

“A what now?”

“It’s a thing where- nevermind. Do some reading, don’t be uncultured. Anyways, Komi’s dealing with that piss lord. And you know Komi.”

“He should go to psychology. To pull Bokuto out from his lows like that? Nice. Takes lots of talent I bet.”

“I know. Probably magic brain powers or some weird voodoo shit is going on.” He wiggled his fingers, cigarette's filter pressed between his lips. He seemed to be contemplating something while Kuroo sucked out the last of his cancer stick, destroying the embers with the heel of his boot.

Then he abruptly turned to Kenma, offering him a hand. “Right, didn’t officially introduce myself! Name’s Konoha. Play the bass in the band and occasionally keyboard.”

He seemed nice enough if not a bit too eager and… strange for the lack of better word, Kenma decided and took the offered hand just for the sake of seeming polite, letting go too soon for it to be called an appropriate handshake. “Kenma,” he simply said and glanced aside, feeling Kuroo’s intense gaze on him.

“’Piss lord’s’ biggest fan” Kuroo supplied, a nasty note to his voice as he poked his friend’s – Konoha’s – leg with the tip of his boot. He jumped back immediately, looking mildly horrified and not by the white imprint of mud left behind on his black jeans.

“Don’t tell him I said that!” he whined and at that very moment Kenma couldn’t help himself as his thoughts traveled back to Lev. “He’ll kick my ass.”

“You’d probably like that.”

“Sorry to disappoint, not a maso.”

“Uhuh, whatever you say,” Kuroo deadpanned, shrugging. “Anyways, Akaashi’s one-man fanclub, please inform this useless peasant about his future decisions. I hope I didn’t scare the princess shitless.”

“Stop douche-ing, Kuroo, he has a good reason to be like this. You know it. And as you saw, Komi and I would gladly join in on the fun but we can’t do anything without Keiji’s permission. He’s technically still the leader and we can’t force him to change his mind. Komi tho’. Just give it a day or two and it will be settled.” Konoha flashed a peace sign and fixed the strap of his guitar case. “Anyways, it’s been nice talking to ya and all but I gotta go back home and comfort Aka-chan. He needs it. Maybe it’ll help change his mind.” The other two watched the blond sigh happily and jump off those two stairs that led up to the back exit.

“Keep dreaming. Way out of your league.” Kuroo rolled his eyes at Konoha’s antics, but his mood was slightly better than before.

“Your face is out of its league, asshole. One of these days kouhai-chan will notice me.”

“If you smash a guitar into owl-man’s thick skull and carefully hide the body, then maybe yeah. Run along now.”

“I’ll make sure to try it out on you first. Smell you later. Nice meeting you, Pudding-chan!” Konoha, seemingly glad that he was getting rid of them, quickly broke into a run as he waved over his shoulder, smile just a tad too wide. Kuroo returned it, the corner of his lips twitching upwards and Kenma could’ve sworn he heard something along the lines ‘hahaha, get hit by a car, bastard’.

Kenma, without really noticing that he was being deadly quiet, simply thought over the small exchange, cringing at the sudden realization that the guy he had just met was trying to worm his way into Akaashi’s possibly unfeeling heart that was reserved for one Bokuto Koutarou. No wonder Kuroo reacted to him so violently.

Then again Kuroo had the strangest ways of showing affection for people he truly cared for. He remembered the tension that sparked between Sawamura and him back in the day, mistaking it as rivalry when in reality it was... something else. Thinking about it just made the blond even more confused and strangely upset if not a bit suspicious so he forced himself to stop. He just kinda hoped to never run into Konoha again. The guy was… off and getting rid of his prejudice was close to impossible (only Lev has succeeded in doing that one).

“C’mon,” Kuroo said, the tone of his voice back to normal. Caring. He sounded caring and strangely- “let’s get you back home.”

This time they kept some distance between them.

Kenma occupied himself with games while Kuroo pulled out his earphones and tuned out the rest of the world as he offered his seat to an old lady. Kenma tried not to think too much about the fact that Kuroo was standing before him, holding onto the steel bars, his knees brushing against Kenma’s with every small movement people behind them made. He could feel the other’s eyes on the top of his head, god he was beginning to develop a sixth sense when these things were involved but the blond didn’t dare look up, uncertain if he wanted to see the emotions flashing inside those dark brown depths.

And it suddenly sunk in to him when they were two stops away from the campus that this was, in fact, a date and all of the successful dates – this probably wasn’t one – ended up with...

Kisses.

Nervously, he chewed on his lower lip, stomach in knots and heart beating loudly in his ears as the bus finally screeched before their stop, and Kuroo took hold of his wrist so they wouldn’t get separated while weaving through the jam-packed space.

“So…” Kuroo shuffled awkwardly and Kenma didn’t know where to look. The ‘Bermuda bushes’ were rustling mysteriously from the wind that had suddenly picked up a whole notch. They weren’t that appealing to look at, if anything, it made them seem more ominous but it was better than looking at his crush. Fingers curling and uncurling, Kenma swallowed down the developing lump in his throat and tried to say something, but couldn’t bring himself to.

Kuroo had noticed but that smooth guy act was crumpling all around him and his cheekbones were beginning to redden as he stared at the ground, scratching at the side of his cheek. “Was it fun?”

Another gust of wind. Kenma pushed the curtain of his hair behind his ears. It was getting in his mouth and nothing would’ve been more embarrassing than choking on his own hair. “Yeah. Parts of it anyways,” he confessed and Kuroo exhaled though his nose.

“Then next time I promise to do better that is if… uh… there will be a next time?” He raised one eyebrow and tried to smile but it came out somewhat too strained and almost painful looking. It seemed that his confidence had abandoned him completely.

Kenma thought about it for a while, watching Kuroo fidget more and more with every second. Sure, it had some unfortunate… moments but overall he had enjoyed it greatly. They bonded and he got to know Kuroo better. And - “Can’t wait.”

He and his stupid mouth.

Kuroo grinned and Kenma’s cheeks exploded with warmth. His breath hitched a little and the taller one let out a sigh of blatant relief. “You better believe that it’s gonna be one of the best you’ll ever have.” And with that promise, before Kenma could even blink, he was being hugged close.

The hold on him was loose but at the same time firm, not one that could be escaped easily. And to be honest, Kenma didn’t feel like escaping as he slowly and shyly lifted his arms up to return the gesture. His fingers clutched onto the leather jacket and he couldn’t help but nose at Kuroo’s neck, the scent of citrus and wood and that lingering smoke filling his senses, making his vision blur and his head spin.

Kuroo had obviously heard his small inhale, felt the not so discreet nuzzling movement and he exhaled a happy laugh against Kenma’s dark pink ear, suddenly rocking them to the sides, swaying, enjoying the squeak of surprise from the blond.

They did it for a while until someone walked by and whistled and Kuroo let go, yet his hands were still holding onto Kenma’s forearms that have developed goosebumps all over, not allowing the flushed boy to escape. At first he was met with some resistance but gradually Kenma calmed down and met his eyes, gnawing at his dry lips.

And Kuroo wanted to do things to this boy, so many things but he couldn’t, his heart feeling like a helium balloon when he noticed that Kenma was biting back a smile, cat-like eyes glistening. Instead he hugged Kenma once more, looser this time and took those frozen hands into his own.

“You really should be going now.” He pointed out and looked at the illuminated building. “I might get my ass kicked if I don’t bring you back in time.”

Kenma looked around, dazed. It seemed quite late. How did they even manage to spend so much time together? He had thought that their ‘shopping trip’ would take a few hours at most. He shifted carefully, the weight of his backpack with a new game and Shouyou’s present inside serving him as a reminder that this was an actual thing that happened.

But Inuoka wasn’t to be taken lightly. The tiny pup could turn into an attack dog in the blink of an eye. “I guess I’ll have to go then,” he said and squeezed Kuroo’s fingers a little, unwilling to part with the warmth. “Wouldn’t want to worry him. Might make my life a living hell. He probably already will with all these questions.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s fine.”

And Kenma really was supposed to rush but it just didn’t seem right, running away and leaving an expectant Kuroo like this. No, Kuroo wasn’t even the number one on his list right now; it was a matter about what Kenma himself wanted and what he needed. A voice that sounded suspiciously like it belonged to his best friend whispered ‘go for it’, and so, gathering the last of his mental strength before he chickened out, Kenma quickly tip-toed and pecked his crush’s cheek, giving his hands one final squeeze.

His eyes were closed so he didn’t notice the burst of brilliant red that had taken over the dark-haired man’s face, eyes big from the shock, pupils blown wide. Kenma didn’t see any of that as he croaked out ‘goodnightseeyousoon’ and took off running, not sparing the poor guy a single glance back. His eyes were closed until he was a good distance ahead, breathing heavily not from exertion but rather embarrassment and the realization of what he had done finally catching up with him.

‘Oh god,’ Kozume Kenma thought as he bodily slammed himself against the door and ran up the stairs, taking two at the time, almost colliding with five different people. “What have I done?”

And so, that left one Kuroo Tetsurou standing outside at 11.10 p.m. under a flickering lamppost, his back pressed against the metal almost as hard as his palm pressed to his mouth, strong wind messing up his already disheveled bedhead, legs strangely jelly-like, phone buzzing in his pocket and his mind a mess of thoughts.

Chapter Text

If one was to ask Kenma how many near-death experiences he‘s had in his life, he‘d shiver and count at least five. That‘s a pretty good number, Yamamoto would say, as he‘s had more than enough and he‘d have to use Tanaka‘s fingers to count them all.

Those four times in various parties, then the day he decided he‘d learn parkour, the day afterwards when he challenged Inuoka and expected to kick his ass in a neighborhood run competition, also the day he decided that it would be perfectly fine to get high in the car but then suddenly there was a cat on the road and fuck his life, his sweet ride was damaged beyond belief among a bunch of other stupid unmentionables.

Kenma simply listened with vague amusement, for while he did not like others’ pain, Yamamoto had a terribly entertaining way of telling stories and the man’s stupidity amazed him so – seriously how the hell wasn’t he dead by now?

There were three experiences in total that Kenma had perfectly remembered, others non-counting for they were stupid mistakes of his dad’s shitty parenting skills, plus he was too young to remember any of them. One time he fell down a ladder and broke his leg, yet he had miraculously escaped head injuries. Another time that stuck out was when he almost stabbed himself on a sharpened pole (he does not enjoy thinking about that one at all, it was too horror movie-like and still made cold sweat gather at his temples whenever he woke up from yet another nightmare wherein that accident really did happen and a strange pain in his stomach would make him cringe almost violently at how realistic it felt) and then that one time—

Well, he does not like talking about it and so he never tells no matter how many times Yaku insists.

Little did Kenma know was that he could add at least six more accidents to his tiny list the moment Kuroo texted him that Bokuto Koutarou would be the one to pick him up and take him to that party as he stood around on the sidewalk like an idiot. It was at least 30+ Celsius outside and the sun slowly fried the remains of his brain cells.

Needless to say, he looked out of place in his beach get-up (he didn’t, but people were staring all weird and that ticked him off and made him pace around more than necessary) and the silver-haired man was, surprise surprise, twenty minutes late.

‘He’ll pick you up, it’s all good,’ Kuroo’s texts read as Kenma subtly complained to him. ‘I trust his useless ass with this and if anything I can kick it, so that’s all cleared up.’

The emojis didn’t make Kenma happier, neither did Kuroo’s apologies that he wasn’t the one to take him there coz he had to show up early and he absolutely had to help out setting shit up and holy shit, babe, I’m so sorry but I really gotta go, see ya later. Plus Bokuto finally got his driver’s license back after his two-month ban and honestly that didn’t put Kenma at ease. At all.

He didn’t want to die today.

Not until he wished Shouyou a happy birthday and a nice life. Then he could kick the bucket. No one would care. Maybe they’d bury him in the sand and move on with their celebration.

He hated this day already and it was only a little past 11 am.

So he had been sweating nervously until a silver car screeched to a halt before him and Bokuto honked five times obnoxiously (Kenma hated it because people were staring and why didn’t he bring his shades?) and Lev, who was proudly sitting shotgun and making Kenma unusually anxious already, had his window rolled down, arm sticking out, offering the bleached blond an open bag of what seemed to be gummy worms.

“Want some?” He grinned broadly and Kenma stared incredulously, probably because the car had orange balloons taped to the surface of the trunk and the music that blared through the open windows was loud enough to make him lose the track of his rather depressing thoughts. He had no time to answer when he saw the annoyance-twisted face of Akaashi Keiji flash behind Lev’s platinum blond mane and the dark-haired man’s hand shot out to smack the back of his head.

“Turn down the volume, Bokuto-san,” he raised his voice just barely but it was more than enough for Bokuto to obey immediately once he saw the death glare reflected in the mirror.

Of course, Kenma felt relief all at once. He thought that he had nothing to fear with the ever-dependable Akaashi by his side.

He slid the door open and settled in the back and before he could fasten the seatbelt, the car moved so suddenly he almost got whiplash. All he could do was curse internally when there were yells all around him, some ecstatic, some reprimanding.

-

The drive to the beach was nearly two hours long and Kenma could count more than six times they had nearly crashed. Whoever decided to give Bokuto his driver’s license were probably either blind, bribed, or insane as hell.

They had picked up one broody looking Yamaguchi and Kenma felt this awkward tension just sitting next to him. The guy greeted them curtly and radiated waves of negativity all around the place. Everyone seemed to be blissfully blind to it except for Kenma who had witnessed the freckled man’s efforts to not curse. He could appreciate the effort Yamaguchi put into it when he heard a repressed ‘fudge-sticks’ and other equally weird things meant to mask the mantra of ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’.

Kenma barely had the time to wonder whether the source of the guy’s mood had been heavily influenced by the fact that Tsukishima Kei wasn’t attending – and he had a good idea as to why if Kuroo’s displeasure was anything to go by, plus it wasn’t like Kenma mourned the lack of the tall blond’s presence either way – because Keiji, in a rush of what seemed undiluted panic, ordered him to grab onto the front seats just incase he was to fly out through the window. Kenma obeyed immediately, digging his knees into the seats for good measure once Bokuto took a wild turn, and the sight of Akaashi’s fingers digging into the front seat left no doubt in his mind that the warning was legit. Yamaguchi groaned and rubbed at the red bruise on his forehead but didn’t voice out any complain. Lev simply yelled something along the lines of ‘oooh do that again!’ and Bokuto slammed down on the gas pedal.

Seven times. Kenma was certain that he should start a mental countdown.

Akaashi flicked the back of Bokuto’s neck in order to cool him off.

Needless to say it didn’t really work when the stoplight turned red and another car, adorned with baby blue balloons, pulled up to them. For a moment, loud honking drowned out the traffic sounds. Lev rolled down the window and stuck his head out to talk to the ‘Coolmobile’s (Kenma was certain that he read the duct-taped sign correctly) driver.

Undeniably, that was Yamamoto’s party.

Kenma’s eyes began scanning the car, trying to find one distraught Yachi Hitoka, spotting her in the back, hands placed over her eyes, nails slightly digging into the skin. Of course, she was stuck between the ever-ecstatic duo of Nishinoya and Tanaka, who were jamming to some cutesy pop tune, their limbs flailing. Yamamoto and Lev exchanged some taunting passive-aggressive comments, Skittles and a chocolate bar, as Bokuto leaned over the blond’s shoulder and provoked the punk to ‘have a duel’ all the while.

The light turned yellow and Kenma closed his eyes in fear, starting to pray to whoever was listening because Yamamoto yelled ‘let the pros do their work, eat my dust!’, the engines roared and tires screeched at the immediate acceleration.

Three kilometers later, Yamamoto, who had been true to his word and made them ‘eat dust’ (mostly because of Akaashi’s interference), was in trouble with the cops and Lev let out his best hyena laugh at his senpai’s failure. Kenma’s phone buzzed with three new texts, all of them from Yachi, their content the same:

‘I don’t want to go to prisoooon D: help meee’

It all got worse when Lev took out a small bag from the pocket of his crumpled jacket and Kenma hoped that its contents weren’t what he thought they were.

“Roll me one,” Bokuto chirped, driving pretty evenly now for the sake of Lev doing what he did best. From peripheral vision, the dyed blond noted that this had somehow caught Yamaguchi’s interest. The guy had been trying to type away on his phone the entire trip, not bothering to make any conversation.

Akaashi, who had been staring out the window and drowning out the annoying chatter happening at the front, took out one earbud, questioning the lack of turbulence. “Are we there yet, I don’t thin—“ His eyes widened. “No. Put that down this instant.”

“Don’t be such a buzzkill, Akaashi-san.” Lev pursed his lips and carefully spread out the dried leaves of what was good old weed so that it would be in even amounts. “Here, I’ll make one for you too. It would do you good to relax.” He smiled good-naturedly as if there was absolutely nothing wrong or weird with this situation and for Haiba Lev it was probably a casual occurrence. Kenma restrained the urge to slap him hard but since he already had a severe case of motion sickness – ‘Bokuto-san sitting before the wheel’ sickness – he figured that he might as well do it once he was on solid ground. If they didn’t die before that.

Akaashi was having none of it. “I don’t care about how you spend your leisure time and I’m aware that your schedule consists of mostly ‘it’s time to be a stoned ass-o’clock’, but this is where I draw the line. There will be no smoking in this car, am I clear?”

“C’mon, Akaashi, he rode the fumes all the way to the police station only once. Big deal.” Bokuto shrugged and tried to catch the dark-haired man’s chilly stare through the mirror, somehow managing not to flinch at the promises of death reflected there. “’Sides, we’re almost there and it’s a special day.”

“One time, you say. More like ‘one time too many’.” Akaashi shuddered at the blurry memory of the first time he had been involved with the police this much, even though it was indirectly. It wasn’t one of the best nights in his life. “We’re not repeating this again.”

“But-”

“Yaku-san will find out. I’ll make sure of it.”

‘Ohh.’ Kenma thought. ‘Shots fired.’

Yamaguchi shifted in his seat, limbs stiff with unease, and resumed the constant checking of his phone.

And shots were fired indeed because Lev gasped a dramatic ‘you wouldn’t’ yet Akaashi didn’t even have to open his mouth to reassure him. Bokuto, in a moment of foolish confidence that he could win against Akaashi Keiji in an argument, tried to defend his dejected friend but then he was swiftly shot down as well.

“I will not be your setter for the day.”

The remaining two kilometers to the site were calm.

Kenma did not know what he expected once he got there. A huge crowd of intoxicated students running around completely naked and flashing people? A deserted beach with a huge bonfire looming just a little further away from the shore as if waiting for the evening so it could be lit? Kenma also wanted to be lit. Set on fire in a painful way, more accurately. None of that ‘flickering crimson flame and warmth for the spectators’ shit.

He almost ran over Yamaguchi in his haste to get out of the car, so he could heave his guts out. His anxiety had been spiking up to insane levels and god forbid Bokuto even dared to get closer than a five meter radius around him today.

The blond didn’t get to appreciate the sandy vast shores, the old pier just further away and the pleasant chatter of people as they dragged overly packed coolers and bags full of food around. Couldn’t afford to appreciate the beautiful wooden hotel and the terraces, as he tore through one and conveniently spotted Shouyou at the same time the orange-haired youth noticed him.

“Kenma!” he called out loudly and his face fell slightly at the sight of the other’s pale face. “What’s—”

“Bathroom.”

Shouyou blinked in confusion but saw that his best friend was having a bit of an emergency. “Umm second floor, first door to the rig—”

He didn’t get to blink before Kenma bolted away. Akaashi appeared a moment later and saved him the confusion and a chase after. He looked a bit pale too, eyebrows twitching as though he saw something profoundly disturbing.

“We got here…” His nose scrunched up and his lip curled back just a little bit. “with Bokuto…-san.”

Hinata’s lips formed a perfect ‘o’. To be honest, he felt a small pang of jealousy at that because car rides with Bokuto Koutarou were the best ever. The way the car swerved left and right made him all ‘guwaa!’ internally and externally. Hinata wished that he had somehow passed the driver’s exam and gotten his own license.

He didn’t get the said license because of the mentioned reasons. Note to self: instructors simply don’t appreciate the ‘mad parking skills’ that Bokuto-san had taught him.

Once Kenma slowly made his way out of the bathroom and he did have to vacate it sooner than he would’ve liked because of the insistent knocking on the door – and how rude was that, really – he couldn’t help but appreciate the place. It had that feeling of comfort to it, huge windows let in just enough light to make the hallways seem welcoming and it smelled like the ocean, which wasn’t too surprising. Kenma couldn’t remember the last time he had properly went to a beach and felt just a tiny bit excited. If he was lucky he could have a pretty good time with a few of his select friends.

Maybe he could even hang out with Kuroo, though he didn’t have high hopes for that, seeing as the black-haired man was nowhere to be found and everyone was constantly milling around with their business, moving things from one point to another so Kenma couldn’t really blame him for not replying. He was greeted by some people that he had shared classes or had briefly interacted with at some small get-togethers. It kind of made him uncomfortable so he strictly tried not to get into anyone’s way, curtly nodding or waving whenever he was noticed, apologizing if he accidentally ran into someone, too lost in his own thoughts.

Naturally, Shouyou was nowhere to be seen and Yachi had yet to arrive. Kenma figured that he wanted some of the ‘pure, happy-go-lucky company’ that was sin-free so he stalked in the opposite direction of Lev’s undeniably nasal voice.

He made a good decision because he found himself in a secluded backyard. It was quite nice, providing a good view of the ocean and the pier. The small pathway led further away from the building and Kenma dutifully followed it, finding swings. His absolute favorite.

Maybe this wasn’t so bad, he thought as he stretched out his legs before him and grabbed the pole to rock the wooden construction back and forth. If he was lucky, no one would look for him here, at least not until sun began to set.

But then he felt someone blow into his ear and he almost let out an embarrassing screech. His head turned around almost too suddenly only to find the two people he had been looking for.

“Gotcha good!” Hinata cackled in what he assumed to be an evil way and glanced over his shoulder at a dead looking Yachi. “I got you a friend. You can talk all about the awesome experiences you had getting here.”

The blonde reacted before Kenma could say anything and removed her arm from the orange-haired boy’s grasp, rubbing the wrist tenderly. She seemed queasy if not annoyed which was quite weird since Yachi barely expressed any actual negativity for her friends. “Horrifying, you mean,” she corrected and patted at her hair that was standing up in weird angles. “I almost went to prison! Prison! Doesn’t that say anything to you!?”

Hinata simply laughed, unsure what the fuss was about. Kenma sighed. “Forget it. He’s not gonna get any of this. He thinks that being chased by cops or drifting at the edge of a cliff is ‘fun’.”

Shouyou blinked. “Is it not supposed to be? I don’t get it.”

Yachi stared at him like he had a few screws loose. Kenma merely caught her eyes and raised his eyebrows in a ‘see what I mean?’ manner.

He simply sat down properly and made room for the two friends as they joined him. They lazily swung back and forth, chatting about all kinds of things, as usual, most of the talking done by the sin-free hyperactive duo that was Kenma’s favorite unproblematic dynamic.

He almost wanted Hinata to never bring up going to the beach and mingling but as though he had some radar that only functioned whenever Kenma began feeling too introverted, Hinata cut off Yachi’s rant about her experiences getting to the spot and how she had Tailor Swift stuck in her head. “I need to get going, Kageyama probably noticed that I’m gone. He’s going to say that I’m slacking off and well, it is my birthday so I really should be helping out.” He got up and dusted off his khaki shorts.

Yachi followed. “True enough. Tanaka-san let me off the hook though, said that I need to enjoy myself.” She fidgeted, slightly ashamed and pushed her side ponytail behind her ear, face pink. “I’m sorry, I hope that’s okay…”

Hinata clapped her shoulder, smiling. “Of course! You guys should hit the beach; we’ll be there in a few minutes! I’ll even bring a watermelon!”

Kenma watched the exchange with mild interest, not really wanting to leave. He wasn’t suited for interacting, at least today. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that he had gagged on his stomach content not a full hour ago. He wanted to politely decline but then Shouyou mentioned Kuroo and volleyball in the same sentence and he was on his feet, Yachi dragging him away.

The beach was… interesting to say the least.

Of course it would’ve been foolish to assume that there would be no people there. Apparently quite a bit of them had the same mindset as Kenma and Yachi did. Still, hope is the mother of fools, the dyed blond thought as he put his towel just a bit further away and took the beach umbrella from Yachi’s hands. She was almost too eager to be rid of it as she dashed towards the ocean and all that Kenma could see was her red polka-dot swimsuit flashing somewhere far away as she got into an impromptu water war.

He settled down and observed his surroundings, putting on Yachi’s sunhat and glasses, hoping to hide his outgrown roots and a huge portion of his face. He still felt a bit insecure because those rumors regarding him and Kuroo were still flying around like some freshly-baked gossip. He knew that the ganguros wouldn’t reach him here, shouldn’t reach, but still. Better safe than sorry.

Just a bit further away some of Shouyou’s friends were already digging into the booze. The coolers, as he had guessed before, were full of bottles, and Kenma frowned when he noticed that Yamaguchi was the first one to grab the bottle of beer that had been offered to him. He seemed over-the-top happy and just… off and Kenma was obviously a worry-wart. Honestly why should he even care for someone that he wasn’t particularly close to. After all, Yamaguchi’s suggestions got him into this mess in the first place. He just didn’t want the guy to die from alcohol poisoning or something equally stupid yet quite possible knowing what kinds of people had gathered in one place.

Yaku was talking with them while obviously trying to tan – often he would let it slip that he was quite upset with the leftover post-puberty acne scars on his back and cheeks, thus he tried to get rid of them by constantly being out in the sun – and Kenma considered going to him if only to feel somewhat confident or reassured but then he saw Lev and Bokuto dragging another cooler towards the shore.

“Yaku-san, help ouuuut. It’s unfaaaair.” Haiba whined in a high-pitched tone and the short man simply raised his sunglasses a little to shoot the taller one a bemused stare.

“You told me to take it easy, so I’m doing just that.” Yaku shrugged and rolled over so that he wouldn’t have to see him. Lev blew out his cheeks like a particularly angry blobfish and Bokuto seemed like he won’t ever see the sun shine again, shoulders slumped as he didn’t put any effort into dragging the case. Obviously Akaashi’s scolding had shattered his high-spirited mood.

Even more students showed up and Kenma considered turning away when he felt the sunhat leaving his head. He covered his grown out roots, a slight spark of fear traveling down his spine. He must’ve flinched quite violently because whoever took off his hat touched his shoulder as if to calm him down, palm warm. “Whoa there, don’t be getting any heart attacks here. I won’t do anything wrong”

This time he really did feel the fear, but it was overpowered by shame.

Kuroo.

Of course.

Kenma looked up, glad that the shades did their job of shielding his eyes and interfering with the guy reading his expressions, because, yet again, better safe than sorry. The sun was bright, so bright that he had to squint despite the tinted barrier. If he hadn’t been wearing glasses he might’ve thought that some deity appeared before him and not necessarily in a ‘holy moly, look at this ripped hot guy’ way.

Well, who was he kidding. Also in the ‘holy moly, etc.’ way.

Kuroo was ready to hit the waves or so it seemed because all that he was wearing were red swimming trunks that were, thank god, loose – Kenma isn’t sure if he would’ve survived if they weren’t, maybe everyone would’ve thought that he had passed out because of a heat stroke and perhaps Mr. Lifeguard here would’ve even attempted mouth to mouth – but, you know, that was basic beach attire, Kenma’s spaced-out brain had provided, unhelpful as always. You’re the only one who always goes out with at least three backup shirts on, it said to him and Kenma shook his head lightly to rid himself of these garbled thoughts. Kuroo’s lips curled into a smirk and then into a shit-eating grin as though Kenma had pushed some switch within him.

“Aww, feeling a bit speechless there? Admiring me?” he cooed and Kenma cringed at his tone. The fake flirty one. He despised it. “That’s okay, you can look all you want, maybe I’ll let you touch.” He winked and the blond barely held back a snort.

“I’m afraid there’s nothing to touch.” He shrugged yet Kuroo didn’t seem one bit hurt or offended. In fact, his fake personality dialed down. The bleached blond swore to himself to find what caused this switch to flip. Kuroo’s dark eyes softened.

“That hurts my pride, Pudding.” His tone was almost affectionate and Kenma wished that the sunglasses would cover more of his face. It was beginning to redden. “Anyways it’s good to see that you’re here in one piece. Heard that the journey was pretty rough.”

“I’m quite glad that you didn’t have to pick up pieces of me off the road as well. That probably would’ve ruined today’s joys.” Kenma didn’t mean for his voice to sound so flippant but there was no helping it. Even if he knew perfectly well that it wasn’t Kuroo’s fault. Not completely at least. Still, he could’ve asked someone else to pick him up. That would’ve been rather considerate.

Kuroo seemed guilty as he sheepishly scratched at the back of his head. “I really am sorry about that. It’s just how he is?” he glanced at Bokuto who was hugging his knees and writing something in the sand with his car keys. Even the guy’s gelled up hair seemed to flop down.

“Death-thirsty bordering suicidal?”

“Death-thirsty bordering suicidal with uncontrollable hyperactivity issues and a low-key case of narcissism. Akaashi was in the back seat. I didn’t think this through.”

“Glad to hear that you’re repenting.” Kenma huffed and snatched the sunhat from the other’s grasp, putting it back on. “I might forgive you. Eventually.”

Kuroo stared, an undecipherable look on his face. It lasted for a few moments before he spoke up. “Nah, that’s not how it works. You’ll have to forgive me right here, right now.”

Kenma raised an eyebrow at him. He thought about what to say and didn’t come up with anything witty so he just imitated Bokuto’s pose and turned away, trying to spot Yachi. By then the water war seemingly got completely out of hand as there were swimming trunks serenely floating in the waves like weirdly shaped dead fishes and some people were being dunked underwater. Kenma could only hope that Yachi wasn’t among them. And then he felt himself being squashed by the undeniable weight of the guy that he had unintentionally ignored.

He squeaked at the taller one to get off but Kuroo was having none of it as he imitated a particularly clingy octopus and wrapped his arms around Kenma’s unfortunately naked torso, whining for forgiveness. Kenma was having a mild case of a panic attack, yet it didn’t feel like panic at all. His mind was buzzing unpleasantly. They were in public, why did he have to do this? Why was his shirt unzipped? The places that the black-haired man touched left behind burning marks and they were rousing the slumbering beehive in the pit of Kenma’s stomach.

Why did it feel… kind of really good, beyond layers upon layers of mixed emotions?

It was simply his torso, for goodness’ sake, it shouldn’t even feel good! If anything he should be freaked out over such sudden skin on skin contact and not… excited or something.

Their struggle carried on until Kuroo was pretty much sprawled on top of him. The only things that separated Kenma from face-planting into the ground were his bent knees and elbows that were really beginning to hurt from the extra weight put on him. He tried not to struggle too much, fully aware that if he were to move his head back, he’d put pressure on Kuroo’s windpipe. Well it would serve the asshole right for attempting to act like a huge bird trying to perch on a small branch that was Kenma’s dainty body.

“It would be better if you stopped struggling and relaxed.” Kuroo spoke into the top of his head, breath ruffling bleached strands.

Relax. Hah. Kenma almost wished that he was chilling on a quicksand pit all along and it would open up to swallow him whole so he won’t have to face the embarrassment that will inevitably come once this… this octopus decided that he’s had enough.

“Maybe I’d relax if you weren’t trying to squish me.” Kenma hissed and tried to lift himself up but Kuroo sensed the movement and did something with his upper body that weighed the smaller one down.

“That’s why I’m telling ya to relax, then you won’t feel the strain.“ the Asshole supplied and Kenma could almost hear the grin in his voice.

“Get off.”

“I don’t think so.”

“You’re heavy.”

“I work out.”

“You’re all sweaty.”

“Well I did my fair share of labor today. That’s why I couldn’t pick you up with a private jet.”

“You’re ho—“ Kenma’s teeth clamped down on his lip out of reflex. Phew. Almost slipped up. Of course the other would’ve distorted his words; there was no doubt about it.

Kuroo perked up. Nothing slipped through those keen, praise-starved ears, it seemed. “What was that? Did you want to say something? I’m howhatwasthat?”

He was immensely enjoying himself. Almost too much.

“I said horrible.” Kenma groaned and finally gave up. His arms limply fell under him and he smashed his face into the fluffy navy blue towel, glad that he wasn’t dumb enough to keep Yachi’s glasses on during their struggle. They would’ve undeniably been ruined. His face was on fire, cheeks almost melting into the bone. Or maybe it was just Kuroo’s… warmth. “I said you’re damn horrible…” he repeated again and attempted to suffocate himself with the towel.

They stayed still for a bit, Kuroo casually flopped on top of him, breathing evenly yet not saying anything and Kenma was becoming very aware of the guy’s chiseled muscles against his back. It was not helping to say the least.

He almost began to relax but today was the weekly ‘mother earth being a little shit’ day and he actually let out a strangled gasp when he felt cold water splashing against his neck and then pooling in rivulets at the small of his back, wetting his thighs, soaking into the back of his shorts. Kuroo was gasping choked up curses as he lifted himself away from Kenma as though he had been burned, glaring at the two menaces that had poured a small bucket of water on them. Kenma was glad that he hadn’t gotten much of it, most of the damage went to Kuroo either way, but his towel was wet and his shirt stuck to his back uncomfortably. Everyone around them was at various states of glee, some people like Bokuto and Lev almost yowling as they doubled over and tried to catch their breath, to people who were still mid-war and had briefly made peace just to stare at the sight on the shore, snickering along.

Kenma wanted to die.

Yaku, who hadn’t been laughing at the spectacle that they had put up simply took off his sunglasses and said ‘PDA police’ his voice cold and stare even.

Kenma wanted to remind Yaku that he was not, in fact, his mother, one last time and only then die.

Kuroo cursed, and quickly stalked to one of the coolers, digging his hand inside. What he retracted caused everyone to stare as all of the conversations ceased around them.

“It’s on.” he yelled loudly, a demonic grin gracing his lips as he aimed a giant water gun at the so called ‘PDA police’. “Don’t think that I came unprepared.”

There was a whole lot of screaming and racing to one of the coolers in order to get some ice cubes and shove them down swim trunks, Lev yelling about getting revenge for Bokuto and before long they all except for Kenma had forgotten about this mishap and got involved in an all-out water battle.

Kenma had considered fleeing, anxiety picking up, especially when Sawamura and Sugawara returned from what Hinata had told them was a fishing trip. Right as Sawamura wanted to ask what was going on, he got a squirt of ice cold water right into the nose. Sugawara yelped and strategically hid behind the dark-haired man, though his eyes shined with glee. All voice of reason was lost the moment Sawamura set out to get revenge against Tanaka who was the one to violate him like this.

Kenma only prayed for his soul as he used the moment of Daichi tackling Tanaka and Ennoshita, who honestly did nothing wrong and therefore did not deserve any of this, into the water at the same time, to make his grand escape.

He didn’t return until one drenched starry-eyed Hinata Shouyou found him at the swings. His nose was bleeding yet he didn’t mind one bit, as he left puddle of water in his wake.

“No.” Kenma groaned and held onto the pole, grasp firm. “Why me?” he closed his eyes and focused the remains of his strength into his hands.

“Yes.” Shouyou replied with a devilish gleam in his eyes and snatched Kenma’s ankle in order to pull him away.

There were no traces of the water war other than a few people nursing their injuries or covering their privates while commanding others to find and retrieve their swimming trunks. Everyone seemed to be in a great mood and not one bit tired, only the wet sand betrayed what chaos had ensued minutes before. Kenma noticed Yachi leaning against Kiyoko as Sugawara animatedly told them something, laughing all the while. Kiyoko had a beautiful smile on her face as she tried to hold in her laughter.

Nishinoya was discreetly taking pics while hiding behind Ennoshita.

“And then!” Sugawara took a moment to calm himself as he was too busy trying not to burst into a fit of giggles. “An albatross swooped down and stole Daichi’s big fish!” The small crowd around him roared with laughter as the story’s main hero Sawamura stood further away obviously suspicious, silently wondering why everyone was focusing on him. The silver-haired storyteller made an exaggerated distressed face as he tried to reach out to something in frantic movements. “I swear, he cried! He told me that he’d never caught a fish this big. If something like that ever happened to me, I probably would’ve cried as well, though. He tried to climb over the border and almost fell into the water and yelled that he’ll fight the bird for the trophy.”

Personally, Kenma couldn’t believe that something like that was even remotely possible but one could never know. He was fully convinced that Sugawara wasn’t a big liar once the man took out his phone to show the gathered group something. Daichi subconsciously felt the threat of upcoming embarrassment, bounced to the offender and told him to stop.

“Daichi-san really acts his age when he wants to!” Shouyou piped up as he looked back at Kenma with a big smile adorning his lips. “The video was hilarious.”

The blond stared, fully knowing that Shouyou was trying to make him forget this offense by making small talk, but this time it wouldn’t work. He decided to give him the silent treatment for a while and was rather surprised when Hinata smirked at him in a challenging and extremely self-confident way.

“It won’t work,” Kenma reassured himself rather than his best friend and Hinata’s smirk turned almost sinister. The blond gulped. He didn’t think that the other could smile in such a… Kageyama-like manner. He hoped that he didn’t seem too startled or even worse - intimidated.

Another surprise came when Daichi, who had been wrestling Sugawara just a second ago, materialized a whistle out of nowhere and blew it. The sound got everyone’s attention. All conversation had ceased and they quieted down immediately, excitement thick in the air. Kenma frantically looked around, a tad spooked. What was happening? Certainly, it couldn’t be good?

Sawamura cleared his throat and released Suga’s bruised wrist, sending one last warning glare. “Find your color teammates—“ only then it had caught Kenma’s attention, that everyone had square pieces of paper in their hands, all of them in different colors, some of them matching. “and let’s start the volleyball tournament!”

Appreciative roars rolled over the crowd, so intense that the back of Kenma’s neck developed goosebumps. The competitive spirit was almost tangible and he hadn’t noticed that Shouyou had let go of him a while ago and was now jumping high into the air, yelling his appreciation.

Now this was going to be good.

No one seemed to mind too much that they were playing on sand – unbeknownst to Kenma these tournaments were held at every bigger gathering so the uneven terrain wasn’t a bother - the challenge that came with it making their blood boil even more, driving them towards victory. They played by good old volleyball rules and Kenma couldn’t hide the excitement that was thrumming in his veins.

He never truly enjoyed volleyball one hundred percent like for example Shouyou and Kageyama who were, by a stroke of luck, in the same team, deeming it as something that took far too much effort. Not to mention the fact that he wasn’t the most athletic guy out there, so he used to get a lot of criticism back in high school for being lazy or taking it too easy. Kenma’s senpais never truly liked him that much because he never showed any enthusiasm externally, though their team’s wins and loses affected him just as much as any member of the club. He had to sit out through most of the matches either way so he didn’t see the point in trying hard to become the starter.

To think that during his third year, he, by some miracle, had managed to become the team’s official setter was insane.

He hadn’t properly played since the Interhigh prelims which they had lost in the second round and tossing to Lev or Yamamoto just didn’t feel the same as it used to when playing with a full set of people. Now Kenma was completely enamored by the sight of at random teams working so insanely well together. This was true friendship. True understanding.

True teamwork.

Shouyou and Kageyama’s quick attacks never failed to make him awed and even though it was clear that Kageyama was the superior setter in this match, it was still fun to watch him compete against Sugawara.

In the end, Shouyou’s team had won by a slight margin and a short break was announced. Kenma had kept a close look on his friend as he panted in exertion, face shining brightly as he asked Kageyama to high-five him. The smack was almost painful to listen to, but both of them were staring at each other with big goofy grins, obviously having a moment so their teammates tactfully decided to let them bask in the glory of a victory that they had shared.

Kenma was so busy analyzing the situation that he didn’t notice a few guys approach him. An arm was draped around his shoulders and he looked up warily, blanching at the sight of Bokuto’s face so close to his own.

“Now now, Pudding, it’s all cool. I’m just here to explain the rules of the tournament to a startled fellow who looks like he’s dying to get onto the court.”

Kenma frowned and attempted to worm away from the guy’s uncomfortable hold. “Certainly, you don’t mean me.” he eyed the taller man and Bokuto smiled knowingly. No malice or ill-intent was found there and that kind of pissed the blond off. This guy was way too earnest with stupid ideas.

“I’m just going to make you an offer, chill. If you don’t want it, you can say ‘no.’” From his eyes, Kenma could tell that he wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer or leave him be. “Up next-“

“Owls versus this cool guy.” Kuroo strolled up to them as though he was making a grand entrance on a Broadway stage, wiggling his hands around his body in a self-reassured manner. Bokuto pouted and then stuck out his tongue at him. Kuroo decidedly ignored his childish best bro, not even bothering to spare him a look. “Yes, very mature. The pinnacle of humanity. Anyways, my dear Kenma, it is time for you to be chosen to a color clan.” He winked and Kenma backed away slightly.

“Sounds like a gang.”

“It’s cooler than that!” Bokuto hooted and pushed a small basket before his eyes, full of colorful papers. “You get a squad, you make them shine while watching their backs, they do it in return and then you either win or lose. If you win, all’s cool, you get bragging rights – of course, you won’t be able to beat me oho ho ho, don’t beat yourself up over it too much though, we can’t all be this awesome - and if you lose, well. We’ll get to it once you do.” Bokuto’s self-praising rant was followed by an eyebrow wiggle and Kenma didn’t even want to touch the papers after such… ‘encouragement’.

Kuroo had sensed his discomfort and shot his pal a nasty reprimanding glare that lasted about a millisecond before his face morphed back into the usual ‘smooth guy coming through’ one. “What this owl shit for brains is trying to say is that you’ll simply be picked to what team you belong.” he reassured.

Bokuto gasped. “True, almost forgot! Setters are usually pre-dibbed, so which position do you play, Pudding?”

The duo leaned in at the same time, staring at Kenma expectantly, waiting for his answer, not so subtly pressuring him and the blond wondered if he could just say that he sucked at volleyball. Maybe they’ll believe and go bother someone else? Though he was certain that with Lev as a friend, they already knew all about Kenma’s secret setter talent and they were purposefully acting like assholes just for the hell of it, wanting Kenma to praise himself or something.

“Setter!” a voice chirped behind him. Kenma groaned externally. Fucking Shouyou and his situation reading skills. “A very good one at that!” he stabbed the knife even deeper and the blond closed his eyes in defeat, though he could feel the duo’s stares drilling holes into his skull.

“No way!” Bokuto hollered and rubbed his chin in thought as he watched Kenma with eagle-like eyes, circling around like the smaller one was another prey he had to devour. “True, he doesn’t strike me as wing-spiker or middle blocker material … I’d be surprised!”

“I had a feeling you’d be one.” Kuroo’s voice cut off Bokuto’s analytical rambling or maybe he just tuned out the guy altogether. The deepness of his voice was butter to Kenma’s ears and the guy’s smirk was all kinds of mischievous, eyes glinting playfully. “Interesting.”

Kenma didn’t get to ask why it was interesting in any way because Kuroo had taken the basket from Bokuto and offered it to him once more, never breaking eye contact. It made Kenma feel strangely… tingly as though he was naked in a crowd or something. Bokuto was still judging him and Akaashi had been attracted by the spectacle, reassuring his partner that Kenma was indeed a very good setter, making the blond’s ears flush red. Praise from Akaashi was rare and very valuable.

And Kenma didn’t need to see Kageyama to feel his glare on his back as the tall setter was hanging onto every word of their exchange.

Kenma didn’t look inside the basket, keeping up that strange eye contact with Kuroo as he picked the first paper his fingertips had touched. He reluctantly looked down to inspect it. Dark blue.

Kuroo’s grin was downright creepy as he produced an identical piece of paper out of nowhere and Kenma felt his heart stop. Did that mean…

“Beginners’ luck, it seems.” The black-haired man drawled out as he held out the paper for the shorter one to inspect. “Guess we’ll be on the same team~”

Hinata bit his lower lip as to not make any squeaking noises yet they still slipped through his nose. He fervently clapped his hands on Kenma’s shoulders and bounced in excitement and the other wanted nothing more than to discreetly tell him to stop. It seemed like Kuroo could easily read into the situation and that was downright embarrassing and yet… all Kenma felt was a giddy kind of anxiety as he couldn’t wait to start the next game. Kuroo smiled slightly and was that a bloody wink? “I’m looking forward to working with you today, Setter-kun!”

A full rotation around their pseudo-court later, Kenma was sure that he had had fallen in love with volleyball all over again. The feel of a set, the texture of the ball on his palm, it was all too familiar and great. The blazing sun reminded him of the blinding lights of gymnasiums and it felt liberating.

He commanded the team with a certain level of ease because he somehow knew that none of them were going to judge him and he felt relieved because Yamamoto was one of their spikers. It felt like high school all over again.

If he messed up, Kuroo was always the first one to tell him to keep the ball going and that he’d get it the next time. That sent warmth of a certain kind all the way to his toes. His heart thudded loudly inside his ears and blood wildly thrummed in his neck when he first set for Kuroo, not too far away from the net. The guy had made a delayed jump and scored it effortlessly, making Kenma lose himself in the moment.

It had felt as though they’ve been playing for years. A completely in sync set unlike any others.

It was just a small moment in the game as a whole but it left Kozume Kenma absolutely stunned. Kuroo had obviously felt the same because the moment he landed, instead of going back into the zone and focusing on the opponent on the other side of the net, a rather fierce one when you knew who exactly was doing the spiking, he seemed utterly disoriented as he forgot what was going on and where he was, as though Kenma was the only person on the entire beach.

The moment had been short-lived because Nishinoya, in an attempt to save the ball that was flying on their side, accidentally slammed his foot into the back of Kuroo’s legs and sent the guy face-planting on the sand. The owl team burst out in a fit of laughter and Sawamura yelled at him to focus.

“This will be an easy win!” Bokuto had hollered and Kuroo spat out some sand, quickly jumped up, and took a defensive stance, arms spread wide.

“Keep running your mouth, owl shit, I’ll rip you apart.” He growled, and Kenma could almost visualize the dangerous vibes that he was emitting. It kind of reminded him of a panther ready to pounce.

“Then let my spikes do the talking!” Bokuto jumped to spike, running his mouth all the while.

They had to stop the match because of the serious showdown between Bokuto and Kuroo. The latter had taken a blow to the head whereas Bokuto sat with a bleeding nose and a bruised forehead because his last spike had ricocheted from Kuroo’s absolute killer block. Akaashi, with a defeated sigh, forbade him from playing.

Kageyama’s team emerged as victors, Kenma’s, surprisingly, following second.

Kenma was rather wary of how everyone seemed to be having normal, good old-fashioned fun as thought it was a high school party before they truly knew the joys of ‘adult water’. There was a whole lot of normal splashing around, normal cheerful chatter as people honestly relaxed left and right, only some of them leisurely sipping at alcoholic drinks. It all felt like the calm before storm, like they were all waiting for the sun to set and for the lingering adults to leave. Why waste booze right from the get go when you could run wild later on?

Yamamoto seemingly didn’t get the memo as he bowed lowly once Yaku had whispered something into his ear and then drunkenly charged at Lev, Nishinoya and Tanaka by his sides. Soon after, the tall half-Russian was buried deep in the sand so only his head was peeking out but he seemingly didn’t mind, grinning all the while as the trio chanted something, hands clapped together while praying.

A moment later the trio was approached by a very confused Ennoshita, wondering just what the hell was going on.

“Why, of course, we are sacrificing him to the Volley Gods, Chikara!” Noya replied in a solemn voice, eyelids trembling as he bowed a few times, whispering some made-up chant. “This is but a lowly sacrifice from the almighty guardian deity, but good luck and victories are all that matters!”

Lev said something about this being super cool and how he was incredibly pleased to be the chosen one, green eyes glittering with pride.

Ennoshita simply stared, turned around and left them behind.

(Lev didn’t think it was ‘cool’ once he got hungry and no one would get him out of the pit. He whined at Yaku to feed him, but was denied that small pleasure as in reality it was a punishment for trying to smoke in the car.

Yachi was shoo’d away the moment Yaku caught her trying to feed the tall man a slice of watermelon.)

Kenma’s sixth sense didn’t betray him and he was right on the money, because mostly everyone hid their booze in the coolers the moment Mrs. Hinata and little Natsu dropped by to wish Shouyou a happy birthday. Kenma was greeted warmly as the woman hugged him and asked him if he was alright and he had reluctantly reassured her that all was well. She shot him a worried glance when they parted but it wasn’t unexpected.

After all Shouyou’s mom was just as much of a parent as his own. She had known all about his fears and anxiety attacks, his fidgeting when it came to crowds, so she merely told him to take it easy and stroked his shoulder in an attempt to encourage him. Such a small gesture meant a lot to the blond and he felt himself relax, with amusement watching Natsu propel herself into Kageyama’s middle, almost knocking him over. The guy seemed rather confused at first, blushing slightly at the grins some bystanders shot him and awkwardly pet her orange mane that was held in its usual twin pigtail style.

Natsu bounced with vigor that belonged to Shouyou alone and flung Kageyama’s hands to the sides, her grasp firm. “Hey hey, Tobio-nii, are you going to propose to Shouyou-nii, today?” she chirped happily, eyes sparkling and those gathered around coughed into their fists trying to stop their impending laugh fits or trying to stay tough and not melt from the cuteness.

Kageyama’s face almost caught fire as he looked around in distress, noticing the suppressed chuckling. Hinata, who had been talking to his mother, visibly tensed and it didn’t take a genius to know that he was intently hanging onto every word.

The tall black-haired man fidgeted nervously as he gathered the remains of his ‘coolness’ and exhaled a stuttering answer. “N-n-not today, Natsu…” he tried to smile but it came out twisted so the small girl slapped one hand over his mouth to hide it.

“Oh.” The siblings echoed at the same time, Hinata’s shoulders slumping in defeat and Natsu’s brown eyes lighting up with something.

“Then, I’ll marry you and you’ll still be a member of our family!” she proclaimed and hugged Kageyama again. No one could hold in their giggles. Sugawara clapped his shoulder and congratulated the newlyweds.

“A brave girl.” Akaashi hid his laughter behind his palm and Kenma was slightly mesmerized by it. The other man laughing was a rare sight. “I wish I were as brave.” He hummed in thought, a small smile still pulling at his lips.

“You certainly are.” Kenma didn’t catch himself in time and then he was the one smacking his mouth shut in embarrassment. The older man stared, slightly amused by the other’s reaction. “W-what I meant to say is that, you’re pretty daring yourself, Akaashi-san… I think that at this rate, Bokuto-san will have to be put in the hospital.”

With these words, Akaashi’s eyes scanned the crowd, finding the mentioned man immediately, because truly it wasn’t that hard. He was perching further away on the judge chair by the volleyball court, a pair of binoculars directed their way, ears dark red.

Kenma swore he heard something close to ‘we’ll see about that’ from Akaashi as the older man courageously stared at the lenses obviously meant to ogle him and took a really… obscene lick of his melting ice-cream, slowly catching the small drop that was rolling down his wrist with the tip of his tongue. Kenma was too busy feeling himself get gayer by the second and he heard a small thud in the distance, assuming that Bokuto fell out of the chair.

Worth it.

He never meant for his day to turn to shit over a few small things but alas, nothing ever worked right for Kenma, now did it? He cursed himself for not disappearing in time to steal food and be a useless member of the society, swinging around and hiding away, drowning in new-found feelings that have been revving since he set for Kuroo for the first time ever. But no, he had to stay there and get distracted by the sight of Natsu, Shouyou and his good friend whose name had always slipped the blond’s mind because Kenma had found him rather scary and his stares made him uneasy. The guy did stand at 191 cm and had no eyebrows and honestly that alone made him even more off-putting than he already was.

By the time it was 4 pm, Natsu had twelve future husbands and Kenma watched her blush and flirt with No-Eyebrows’ friend - Futakuchi maybe? - who was responding like a true champ, making the little girl stutter. The smaller Hinata gave him a flower and hid behind her brother’s leg, staring at the pretty boy as he pretended to be swooning by the small gesture.

The tall white-haired man was staring intensely at Hinata siblings and Natsu warily looked up at the giant before her. She chewed on her lower lip nervously and tugged on Shouyou’s wrist, an order for him to lend her an ear. She whispered something rushed, cheeks blazing red again and Shouyou had laughed, swiftly maneuvering them so that Natsu was standing in front of the scary guy, never breaking eye contact. The guy and Natsu stared at each other while Hinata pushed her forward and Kenma had watched in amazement as she held out a pretty red flower to the giant.

There was more staring and Shouyou ‘discreetly’ whispered ‘go on ahead’ that was meant for his friend and watched him accept the flower. The younger Hinata shuffled around, as though waiting for something but instead of the usual word of thanks, the guy, with slow movements as though he was afraid of scaring the little girl away, crouched down before her and put the flower in her hair. Shouyou had made a strangled squeak of happiness and Natsu hopped onto the tall man, hugging him, happily screeching when he lifted her up.

It was simply too adorable for this world. So of course, Kenma didn’t feel when someone else swooped in and locked their strong arms around his torso. He let out a small gasp, unsure what was going on. The wet sand left his feet and Kenma stared down, paling when he saw that the sand was soon replaced by water that was getting darker and darker the further they got away from the shore. He instinctively curled his legs back so that the waves couldn’t reach his feet and dug his fingers into those strong forearms that kept him trapped, nails scratching at the skin, hyperventilating.

Oh god, no.

The water was so so so dark and he was too scared to breathe, heart beating inside his throat as he weakly begged.

“Please, no no no NO. Let go, let go. I-I can’t!” His voice finally surfaced, coming out hoarse. His vision blurred and then he was wiggling his body around so he could cling to something stable as unpleasant memories surfaced in his mind. He trashed about until he felt the person carrying him stop and Kenma locked his arms around the guy’s neck to the point of suffocation. There was a whole lot of commotion all around, concerned voices yelling commands, wondering, and Kenma heard splashing of water as he clung to the body tighter, tears prickling under his eyelids.

“What’s wrong- hey? Are you listening!? Don’t you faint on me, Pudding!” the voice of the person he clung to sounded awfully familiar but he wasn’t in the right state of mind to put a name and a face to it. He just wanted solid ground under his feet. He never wanted to cause a scene, never never never— “I’m sorry, I didn’t know, shit! I’m so sorry…” the guy tried to shift his position but Kenma shook his head to the sides and clung tighter.

“Carry him to the shore, quick!” a winded voice that made Kenma shiver uncontrollably ordered and he felt so weak as though his consciousness was about to slip away.

And then he felt the all too familiar shortage of breath.

“Breathe slowly… in and out. Good, you’re doing great. Repeat it now.”

The world was spinning far too much and through blurred vision Kenma saw sand. His head was placed between his knees, hands tangled in his hair. Someone was stroking his back, but Kenma simply listened to the commands, finally relaxing now that he had solid ground below him. What the hell came over him…

He was certain that he had this certain fear in check. It was probably too sudden for him. He needed time to get used to the idea of water but it’s not like he could blame anyone. Couldn’t blame Bokuto. He didn’t know. He didn’t.

Kenma just ruined everything, didn’t he…?

“I’m sorry.” he rasped out and coughed violently. He could breathe better now, yet he didn’t want to risk looking up in fear of seeing all those judging stares. What had he done? He never wanted for this to happen and now he ruined it for everyone with his psychotic attacks. Fuck everything. “I should just go home, please, he didn’t know, it’s my fault.” The bubbling rant tore through his lips and he thought that he would start crying when he heard a soothing voice.

“It’s fine now, you’re fine. No one’s blaming you for anything.”

“I fucked up everything, just let me—let me leave.”

“Kenma.” He flinched and shut up immediately. There was shuffling and someone tried to make him look up and a part of him really wanted it but instead Kenma fought back, eyes squeezed shut in fear. He hated himself. All he was doing today was causing trouble for his friends and being a bad friend in general and Bokuto should’ve just dropped him in the middle of the ocean and let him drown. Kenma wasn’t sure if he still knew how to swim.

“Look at me.” it didn’t sound like a command and the blond slowly gave into the rubbing motions under his tightly squeezed eyelids. He sneaked in a small peek, relaxing some more when he saw that it was just Kuroo. He almost felt sick by the concern reflected in those dark eyes. He deserved no compassion. Not from someone like that. “It’s not your fault, okay? It’s not. Just... please, take your time to relax now. That’s for the best, really.” Was he politely saying that he should just go away and be alone?

Of course.

Of fucking course.

Why would anyone want him around after his dramatic panic attack? Bokuto was his best friend so why would he take care of Kenma when he could be reassuring the other?

“You hate me.”

“I don’t. I could never hate you, my café boy.” Kuroo laughed quietly but it wasn’t mean or anything. “I’ll understand if you hate me though. It’s my fault that your day isn’t turning out to be all that great...” he sighed in defeat and Kenma opened his eyes in time to see the sadness gracing the taller man’s tired face as he ran a hand through his messy hair, looking aside. “I keep fucking up and apologizing for it and sometimes ‘sorry’ just doesn’t cut it. I’ll… I’ll understand if you want to leave and never speak to me again.” He exhaled a mirthless breath that was supposed to be a laugh, shoulders slumping in defeat yet he seemed determined, ready to accept any answer.

Kenma’s mind shut down completely as he thought about what he should do. One part of him truly wanted to leave this place already but he knew that if he did just that, whatever he had with Kuroo, that is if they really did have anything, would be broken. He’d take it the wrong way. Another part of him wanted to simply take his advice, relax for a bit, isolate himself and appear only when he felt like it. He couldn’t let his weaknesses rule him. He promised Shouyou that he wouldn’t let them do it.

He had to face his fears sooner or later.

And now – now was a great time to do it.

Kenma reached out one hand, fingertips still shaking from the panic attack, and tenderly placed it on Kuroo’s sun-kissed shoulder, enjoying the warmth. The guy’s muscles had tightened momentarily in surprise and he carefully met the other’s gaze, eyes uncharacteristically wide. Kenma attempted to smile but it had to come out looking strained. He just wasn’t good at this.

“Let’s just forget it for now… I-it’s Shouyou’s birthday, after all…” Kenma forced out through clenched teeth.

It was certainly worth it because Kuroo’s eyes lit up as he worried his lower lip lightly, trying to control a smile that was threatening to slip. His warm hand covered Kenma’s shaky one.

“Go rest now, okay? When you’re ready to be out in a crowd, my time is dedicated to you alone. I promise.” One last squeeze of those fingers and he ruffled Kenma’s hair, pushing something metallic into the blond’s other hand. He rolled it over in his palm, feeling the surface and dents of a key. “You can stay there as long as you want. I’ll tell Shorty about it. No one’s going to bother you. Take a nap, alright?” Kuroo smiled and ruffled Kenma’s hair once more, offering a hand to help the shorter boy stand up.

He even guided Kenma to the room, swiftly avoiding anyone who shot concerned looks, making small talk so that Kenma would feel slightly at ease. It didn’t work that well but the blond appreciated the effort as he kept his gaze down the entire time.

They parted ways at the door, Kuroo wishing him a good rest and Kenma nodding lightly, shutting the door, locking it from the inside just in case. He needed some time to gather himself. Shame was still gnawing at him but he didn’t dwell too much on it, too tired to even think. The pillows smelled slightly of dust but he didn’t mind.

Kenma had crashed for three hours, blissfully unware of the preparations for the true party that was about to commence taking place the moment the adults had left and the sun disappeared into the ocean, dyeing the sky dark red.

Chapter Text

It’s weird, is what Kuroo thinks for the nth time that day.

It‘s weird how he more than often means well - even if, at times, he doesn’t think of others - yet all of his plans just take a complete U-turn and come back to bite him in the ass. It‘s his ignorance, Yaku says and stomps away with a huff, letting the taller man know that he had fucked up and should not be expecting forgiveness anytime soon. Morisuke‘s auburn hair is still matted by the sea water and he‘s got bruises blooming from their ‘Run of Shame’ scramble from moments before.

True, sometimes he doesn’t think about the others, focusing on other goals and thinking about the greater good instead, but this time even he has to admit that he really didn’t think this through. The storm that had been brewing in Akaashi‘s eyes, hurt flashing in them, annoyance in Akinori‘s gaze, as well – they, well. Stung. Like a bitch.

He really didn’t mean for any of this.

He didn’t mean for Kenma to go through this hell.

And why? Let‘s rewind.

Their annual run of shame was quite the sight. The rules were simple enough – losing teams had to run towards five trays that were placed on the ground, rows of plastic cups filled with sea water lined on them. Those who didn’t manage to secure a tray, lost by default. Those who did, quickly had to grab the nearest person as their partner and the duo had to carefully pick up their heist, making sure that nothing was spilled.

That‘s where the fun began which usually left the winners rolling around on the ground and clutching their stomachs in order to calm their laughter. The kick of this contest was the speed and ability to cooperate, a little something to make the players more in sync since they couldn’t keep it up on the court which resulted in failures. The only rules for this run were that the partners had to press their sides and hold onto the tray together. How they did it, was completely up to their imagination and creativity. The two-man teams rushed as fast as they could to the finish line while trying their hardest to keep the water in cups from spilling. If it did – they had to go back, refill the glasses and start again. It was even more entertaining to watch this play out on the quirky terrain of the beach.

Kuroo was choking on his wild laughter when he saw Yaku and Lev struggling to keep their cups from sliding to the shorter one’s side – that height difference was by no means a helpful benefactor. Tanaka kept tripping over his own legs, already unstable from the alcohol he had consumed earlier. Ennoshita was yelling at him to move his ass, desperately looking at Aone and Futakuchi who seemingly effortlessly ran by, sand flying everywhere. Needless to say, they made it first, only one glass lost. Bokuto hollered his appreciation while a few grumbling people slipped their money into his eager hand. Kuroo wiped at a tear. It was too entertaining to watch and the atmosphere that they had created was too good; survival game aesthetic with torches, drumming and garlands made from plants that adorned their players’ necks. He had looked around, noticing that Akaashi and co were nowhere to be found, therefore it was lacking in epic background music which Konoha had usually provided.

He focused back on the run, two teams still struggling. After a moment, Lev seemingly got fed up with synchronizing and decided to do things his own way. A loud “Yaku-san!” echoed over the noise and without much ado, the tall man balanced the tray on one hand, lifting the shorter man up with one arm, instructing him to place his left arm around his neck and help him hold the tray. Yaku gaped for a moment, face red like the dusk that was slowly fading away into the horizon, yet agreed, fingers painfully digging into platinum blond’s shoulder. Lev awkwardly maneuvered, pace definitely quicker than before. It looked absolutely hilarious but it seemed to be working like a miracle and Kuroo would’ve gladly stuck around till the end of it when there was a roar of an engine in the distance, which caught everyone’s attention, the sounds of cheer dying down for a while.

A huge jeep appeared on one of the dunes further away, leaving clouds of sand behind it. Just like originally intended – one of Sugawara's genius ideas - the dusty black surface had balloons taped on it. However, what caught the eye were the Christmas lights taped inside its salon, gleaming in greens and obnoxious pinks. The jeep's windows were rolled down and loud rock music was blasting as the people that were inside roared in absolute joy, tires screeching into a halt.

‘Quite the entrance’ Kuroo thought, as he felt a grin stretch his lips, yet it wasn’t long-lasting. At least one-third of their population had recognized the party people, girls immediately scuttering in that direction out of sheer curiosity and giddiness. In the midst of confusion, Tanaka face-planted the sand once again but Kuroo didn’t get to see it when he had his vision obscured by one Akaashi Keiji who had seemingly descended out of nowhere.

“Are you like a wizard or something?” Kuroo snickered, in order to hide his surprise. “I could’ve sworn you—“

He stopped his blabbering, immediately noticing that this wasn't the type of situation in which he could freely joke around and possibly humor his way out of.

And boy, was it one.

Kuroo thought that he knew Akaashi pretty well despite what others thought. They have been unofficial friends for quite some time now and he was one of the few people who could actually name the vague expressions on the guy’s beautiful, yet impassive, face. Right then, he thought that even a complete idiot could put it together and successfully confirm: Akaashi was pissed off as hell.

His eyebrow twitched furiously and he was holding back from either punching Kuroo in the face or yelling, judging by the slow expansion of his ribcage as he inhaled slowly, trying to calm down. It wasn’t working.

“You.” he deadpanned and Kuroo felt his confidence dwindle once he noted the twinkle of utter disappointment in those dark eyes. He thought that no matter what was to spill out of the other’s mouth next, it would be less painful than staring at that pathetic look. Kuroo took a subtle step back, preparing himself for the worst, closing his eyes and flinching, ready to take any hits that came his way. However, none did.

Nothing could’ve prepared him for what came next, though.

“Do you think it’s funny to torture me or something?” Akaashi’s voice stuttered a bit and Kuroo thought about replying, but in all honesty, no matter what he'd say, he’d still sound like an insensitive ass. He decided to keep his trap shut for once, trying to avoid that… look.

Keiji caught up with the unsubtle act of avoidance and settled for running his thin fingers through his curly hair, sighing. “You know what, fine, don’t say anything. I can’t believe this. Thought you couldn’t sink any lower and here we are. I-“ he shook his head and turned away, stalking in the opposite direction of the jeep, muttering his disbelief all the while, steps unsteady and not because of the sand between his toes.

And Kuroo… he felt like shit.

Flinching when he felt a hand on his shoulder, he prayed to god and all the deities out there that it wouldn’t be Bokuto. He was frozen stiff when the unmistakable scent of Akinori's cologne tickled his senses. The guy leaned down, forcing Kuroo to meet his eyes, fox-like gaze chilling him to the bone and screaming bloody murder as the guy smiled in the fakest way imaginable. His hand clapped Kuroo’s stiff shoulder. Hard.

“May I have a word, Kuroo-pal?” He chirped with exaggerated cheerfulness and without waiting for a reply, dragged him in the direction of the building. Mocking laughter reached his ears as someone from the jeep shouted something after them. Something that sounded suspiciously like ‘the night didn’t even start yet and Kuroo over there is already dragging in victims’ to which Konoha only responded by flipping the bird, hissing something inaudible about ‘punk-ass fuckers’.

He had fucked up.

And as they stepped onto the terrace, just further away, Kuroo could only swallow heavily.

If Konoha doesn't kill him, well… Bokuto certainly will.

Fuck, he needed a cigarette.

Kuroo also thought that 'Run of Shame' was severely overrated when you had someone like Akinori Konoha threatening you with castration and other unmentionable things.

He was kind enough to offer Kuroo a light when he reached for his cigarette pack, “accidentally” trying to burn his fingers. They sat there in an almost deafening silence, other than the sudden bass thumping in the distance and focused on gathering their own thoughts. They were both butthurt over the sudden twist of events – in Konoha’s case, at least – but Kuroo thought that he could deal with this guy. He wasn't Akaashi with his broken doe-like eyes and fragile self-esteem. Not that Akaashi was anything like that on daily basis, but apparently, Kuroo knew all the ways to get under his skin, or so it seemed. Intentionally or not.

Konoha dragged his leg closer to himself and scratched at the skin that was showing through the rips of his skinny jeans. He waved a hand around, carefully avoiding eyecontact with his companion lest he felt that sudden urge to break his bones again.

“Explain.” He stopped the motion and inhaled the smoke, feeling a burn in his lungs. He refused to cough.

Kuroo flicked off the ashes in a fluid motion of his wrist and scowled. He hated himself at that very moment, but it wasn't like he had much of a choice in the matter. “Akaashi’s got stage fright. We needed entertainment. Plus, you know how he is, if he hears the words party and booze in the same sentence, he invites himself in.”

Konoha risked a glance at him. Nope, still murderous. “Friendship over, you piece of shit.” He had abandoned his mission to cause more rips in his pants and leaned back, shifting his weight. “I can’t fucking believe that you’re such a goddamn backstabber. Quite the snake you are.”

“Shut up, it’s your fault that you never got back to me.” Kuroo frowned because what the fuck, why did he have to shoulder all of this, when Konoha was just as guilty.

“And so you thought it'd be a great idea to fuck up Keiji’s evening. Pity.”

“I didn’t think it’d be like this-“

“Of course you didn’t.” Konoha smoothly cut him off with a mirthless laugh. “And now you think that it’s quite the plausible excuse. Well, it’s fucking not. The best thing to do right now…” he trailed off and Kuroo glanced at him, not bothering to hide his shock. He knew where this was going and despite everything happening around them, he couldn't help himself but feel... amused.

Konoha knew that he knew and shook his dirty blond mane, plopping down on his back. “If this were any other situation, I’d acquaintance my knuckles to your face, alas, I’d rather not cause anymore problems.”

“So you’re going to sit this one out? That’s unlike you.”

“Hey, now, don’t be blaming me. We’re a band, you douche. Not like you’d understand.” That fox-like gaze drifted to one of the cars parked further away. A heavy sigh.

Damn, even if he hated to admit it, Kuroo was right. It was unbearable to just sit around and do absolutely nothing when he knew just who exactly showed up.

Kenma felt a whole lot better after his nap. His mind was clearer and he no longer felt that gripping sensation around his neck. Mindlessly, he had rubbed at his throat as if to check and to be certain that he was back to normal, fully knowing that he’d find nothing there. He wouldn’t have minded catching a few more z’s, eyelids strangely heavy. The mattress beneath his light form felt like he had been napping on a cloud. Last time he slept so well was probably in his own bed.

Alas, his peace – as he had expected – was rather short-lived. He was woken up by the ruckus outside, the walls of this room seemingly too thin for their own good because Kenma could hear bits and pieces of conversations if he focused hard enough. There was a whole lot of screaming and what seemed like a roar of the engine. Feeling a bit anxious and wondering if the crowd had finally started a third world war while he was conked out – again, that wouldn’t have surprised Kenma in the least, and if anything, he had a feeling just exactly who he would blame for it – the blond left his pile of sheets and unlocked the door, grip a bit shaky.

No one was there.

Sighing in relief he skittered to the hallway, poking his head out and carefully looking around to see if all was safe. Seriously, what the hell was up with all this noise if there was no one out there? Were they attacked by aliens or something? Would explain the roaring.

He walked out onto the terrace near the back entrance, slightly startled to find a guy leaning against one of the walls, his eyes blank and unfocused. The glow of the lights didn't reach that well there so he didn't make out any specific features, yet for some reason Kenma felt like he knew the man. He wondered if he could simply pretend he didn't see him but the guy called out to him, making Kenma jump slightly.

“Hey you!” he fixed his posture, long legs unfolding, and the bleached blond wondered if he could pretend that maybe there was someone else around, but that would've been all kinds of desperate. Not to mention he’d look like a complete idiot.

“You… uhh. Fuck, what was the name again…”

Looking around for an escape route, the shorter one yelped a small “Kenma.”

“Right, right, Kuroo’s new… whatever. Pudding-kun, I remember. Why don’t you come here and take a seat.” No response. “Hey, no need to be nervous. It’s me, Konoha, remember? We met after your knight in shining armor decided to recruit Aka-chan.”

Oh. Right, the weird, not really trustworthy looking fox-guy. That alone made Kenma hesitate but he figured that the guy wasn’t aiming to hurt him, and if anything he looked like he needed some company. It was a bonus that he knew him from before, otherwise he would’ve ran as fast as his short legs could carry.

Slowly, he had settled down, leaving at least two meters between them, inspecting his fingernails though he could barely see anything in this light other than the flickers of orange. Konoha simply continued smoking in a leisure kind of way, and let out an amused snort when he regarded the free space between them. However, he seemingly respected the other's insistence for personal space. He heard about that little 'outburst' at the beach earlier, after all.

“You know…” he started and Kenma stiffened slightly, not bothering to face the guy, yet Konoha could tell that the pudding-hair was listening to him. “Just a word of your smart, experienced senpai… dump that piece of garbage. You seem like a good kid, and having that around – well, it’s toxic.” He laughed, as though waiting for a response, not really expecting anything in return.

The shorter boy fidgeted, just a tad peeved. He didn’t wake up for this crap. After today, he didn’t think that he could ever see Kuroo as anything but good. As foolish as it was to blindly put his trust in someone, he had decided that the black-haired man was worthy of it. As much as Kenma could offer, anyways. He wasn’t really that trusting of anyone, really.

“We’re not… together.” Kenma ground out, ready to stand up and bail, but something about Konoha’s reaction kept him seated.

Laughter, as though mocking him, filled the night air. A cool breeze swept through them as if agreeing with the taller blond. “Oh shit, that’s just rich. I’m so sorry, then. Though, hell, it’s cool. Better for you to disappear and leave nothing behind. He fucking deserves that. Wanna hear a funny thing?”

“No.”

“Here it goes. You’re pretty close to Akaashi, am I right? That bastard Kuroo… just because Keiji wouldn’t perform, he took it upon himself to ask this fucking clown to join here. You know, it’s funny, because now, not only will Aka-chan be haunted by his ever-entertaining past, he certainly won’t get over his stage fright. And all was going so smoothly…”

Squinting to make out the other’s expression, Kenma drowned in confusion. Just what the hell had happened? Maybe that roaring from before… Of course, it made sense. Someone new had joined them. Someone… who hurt Akaashi?

Curious, he wanted to ask more, but Konoha kept going, voice turning hateful with every word to leave his mouth. “And I really really want to kick his sorry ass because I look at him and see a big back of dicks who really deserves it. I even talked Komi into preparing everything, just in case. It’s like? I knew this would happen, you see—“ he kept babbling and the sudden movement startled Kenma as the guy hopped to his feet and rushed to one of the parked cars – a van with a red dragon painted on its side - fiddling with the keys and ripping the trunk's doors open, beckoning the shorter one to come closer. As though in a trance, Kenma joined, noticing a few guitar cases, a whole lot of wires and other sound-related technology. A set of drums was also crammed into that space.

“And I think that I should—“

“Sit back like a good child and let the pros do their work.~”

Kenma gasped and started coughing in surprise, caught completely off guard by the sudden appearance of a third party. Whoever it was, they certainly had good creeper skills. Konoha violently flinched beside him, snarling like a wild animal, his tone rising to an angered screech. “As I was saying, I should stick my foot so far up your goddamn ass you will be having problems taking a shit, you son of a fucking bitch!”

“I see that you're still charming as ever, Kocchan.”

“Call me that one more time and see what happens.” The taller blond slammed his side of the door shut, whirling around and ready to brawl, knuckles cracking in the silence, metal rings glinting.

“What, you’re gonna stick your foot up my ass? That’s just kinky, try a fist maybe,” they sniggered, mocking.

Kenma didn’t dare to turn around and face whoever was standing behind, feeling himself shake a little and it had nothing to do with the wind. He didn’t want to be caught in the middle of an upcoming fistfight and he would’ve attempted to pacify Akinori but the intensity that the guy radiated scared him off. He was afraid that if he did so much as touch the other, his fingers would be ripped off his palm.

Feeling his heart palpitating fast, Kenma frowned and tried to focus on something else, gnawing at his lip. You’re not here, he tried to convince himself, knees shaking. You’re… oh god.

If he had a panic attack here, it would be all kinds of shameful. No one would probably notice it because it seemed that Konoha and the mystery person were too busy ripping at each other’s throats to pay attention to anything else. Or so he thought.

“Well well well, what do we have here? Recruited a new member? Nice. Hope this one’s less of a painful stuck up, though it doesn’t seem that way.” Kenma could almost hear a smile and his shuddering stopped when he felt a sudden movement. He held back a wince but relaxed once he saw that it was simply due to Konoha inserting himself between him and the threat, spreading his arms casually in order to shield the small blond better. The short boy tried to hold back an urge to hold onto the man’s shirt, instead trying to disappear and shrink behind him like he didn’t exist.

“What’s it to you? You gonna try get into his pants now?”

“Jealous?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, that’s just ugly. Like the rest of you, y’know. Now don’t you have elsewhere to be, terrorize people and all?”

“Oh that reminds me, I was looking for Kei-chan. You’ve seen him around maybe? Or is he being a little bitch and hiding from me?” that overly-cheerful voice sent more shivers down Kenma's spine, raising goosebumps. It felt like he was stuck in a horror movie. And Kei-chan? Who -

“What did you—“ Akinori lashed out and barely held himself back, looking like an attack dog that was strangled by its chains mid-leap when he heard quick footsteps.

“What’s going on here?” A sharp voice cut in and Kenma felt himself turn into mush out of sheer relief. Never in his life had he been gladder to hear the voice of Kuroo Tetsurou. The tremors in his body only intensified yet this time out of pure relief. He discreetly peeked out from Konoha’s side, noticing that it was a whole lot brighter than before, light spilling from the corner of the building, and focusing on the stairs.

As expected, Kuroo was there, glaring daggers, while Sawamura stood just a few steps behind, arms crossed and looking intimidating as ever. With shaky fingers Kenma grasped at the back of enraged Konoha’s shirt, feeling the tension in his muscles pick up from the sudden action. He saw the taller blond move his head a little, a gesture for the duo to look at Kenma. Something close to unease flashed in Kuroo’s eyes as he ran his tongue over his dry lips and called out to the short blond.

He didn’t need to be told twice. Konoha slightly pushed him and whispered a small ‘go’, taking up a defiant stance now that he was alone.

Breathing heavily, Kenma hid himself behind Kuroo’s back, forehead pressed between his shoulder blades, nuzzling, as he gasped for breath, trying to be silent. He grasped at the black-haired man’s right palm, holding it in a vice-like grip, fingers sleek with sweat, while he focused solely on the warmth that the hand provided. Kuroo’s slim fingers squeezed in reassurance as he kept his gaze firm, radiating protectiveness. Sawamura took it upon himself to act in case anything was to go down, stepping forward, turning on his best serious face.

“Ohhh, I see how it is.” The offender continued, choosing to act oblivious, not minding the fact that he was pretty much surrounded. “Sorry, dude. Didn’t mean to scare your little… lover boy, away. Not really interested in it anyways, not really my type, you know. I kinda prefer black hair and intimidation.” Kenma heard Sawamura shuffle a bit, as he placed one hand on his hip.

“If you know what’s good for you, you’ll leave Akaashi Keiji alone today. Pretty sure you have a lick of common sense, somewhere down there. Also you should leave. You got no business here.” Daichi deadpanned, voice even. He seemed unfazed by this, just like the other.

There were steps, an angered ‘hey!’ barked out by Konoha, and Kuroo suddenly walked back, Kenma trying to synchronize with him so they wouldn’t trip. The small blond looked up at the black-haired protector, a part of him wishing that the guy would face him and reassure him, just look at him, but no such thing happened. Calming down by himself, Kenma finally decided to sneak a peek at the scene unfolding. What he saw made his breath hitch.

A tall guy stood before Sawamura, barely any space between them. The orange light of the lanterns above reflected on his blond hair, cleanly shaved in an undercut, dark roots showing. Kenma had yet to see someone look so… punk, for the lack of better word and not even Yamamoto and Tanaka’s wild looks combined could compare.

The guy was the perfect image of someone who was certainly in a band, Kenma realized, as he finally caught on. His posture was slack as if to mock Sawamura even further. From under the sleeveless black shirt that he wore, tattoos were painting those muscular arms and neck. Kenma stared at the emerald dragon on his right bicep, overlapping with precise lines of clouds and colorful smoke, not a patch of skin visible. Piercings adorned the guy’s ears, lower lip and eyebrows, glinting in the lamplight. A massive black cross tattooed on the side of his neck was the last thing that Kenma noticed before the guy smiled lazily, eyes lidding just a bit. The space between him and Daichi continued to shrink as he whispered, voice just a tad too sultry. “But I’m bad to the bone, Sawamura. I’m sure you know that by now.”

Something in Daichi’s expression changed as though a switch had been flipped but it was gone so fast it migh've been mistaken for something imaginary. Though, it was more than enough for the punk to straighten up and beam, a predatory look in his eyes as he turned back to Konoha who was still shaking like he had been dunked in ice-cold water, though even an idiot could tell that his blood was boiling. Happy by the ruckus he caused, the punk sang. “It’s been fly seeing you again, Kocchan, but I’m afraid I got places to be that you won’t ever get to reach. Say hi to Haru for me! Don’t bother with Kei-chan, though, I’ll find him myself. Catch you later. Do tell what you think of Bobata’s evolved playing skills, though. Constructive criticism is always appreciated.”

“Eat a dick, Terushima.”

“I just might. Don’t cry too much if it ain’t yours.” He laughed and patted Sawamura’s broad shoulders, whispering something into his ear and winking. With a wave and a slight jump, he all but skipped away.

Kuroo’s shoulders sagged in slight relief as Konoha was cursing like a sailor in the background. He turned to Daichi - who was too spaced out for it to be normal, staring after the punk - and painfully probed him with his finger. “You fuck that guy and you’re dead to me, you hear!?” he glared, hoping to get his point across.

Sawamura waved him off. “That was one time and really uncalled for. Also, I agree with Konoha – you’re a fucking douche. But we all knew that already, that’s why we love to hate you and despise to love you.”

“Yeah, real flattering, man, but it ain’t gonna get you off the hook – would you please shut the hell up, he’s gone! We get it, you hate him!” He yelled at Konoha who shut up temporarily, blowing out his cheeks in defiance. They had red spots on them.

“Don’t you have anything to say to him?” Daichi wondered, sending him a look that spoke of a true pacifist. Kuroo and Kenma stared at Konoha blowing his fuse all over again, kicking a worn tire of the van and cursing even more when he stubbed his toe.

Finally, Kuroo looked down at Kenma, shifting so he was facing the other a bit better, softly squeezing their laced hands together. A kind look graced his face as he smiled a little and Sawamura looked away to give them some privacy, a knowing upturn appearing on his lips. Kenma’s breath hitched at the sight and Kuroo let go of his hand in favor of running his fingers through Kenma’s messy hair which he had somehow forgotten to tame after his nap. Feeling a tad embarrassed by such a public display of affection, he felt his cheeks burn in shame.

“That ass didn’t do anything to you, right?” Kenma could only nod.

“...Alright then.” With an exasperated sigh, Kuroo called out to the rampaging blond, trying to ignore the hateful glare shot his way as the other insisted on what the fuck was so damn important to make him speak to him—

“Thanks for looking out for Kenma here. It was a huge favor, really.”

The flush on Kenma’s face darkened as he bit his lower lip. This guy was going to kill him with this sincerity.

A moment of stunned silence followed. And then one more.

“Pssh, don’t mind it. It’s not like I could’ve left the kid by himself. Have you seen that assnugget? He’s like a sexual leech. So yeah, no favors for you. I still hate you and all.” Konoha sputtered, ashamed, and stomped his foot like a bull to prove his point.

“Instead of hating each other, how about we go out there, find Akaashi, and make sure he doesn’t have to interact with that menace?” Daichi offered, a bit touched. “This is really getting us nowhere.”

A beat of silence followed as all of them thought it over and nodded in agreement. A click of a lighter resounded in the night as Konoha shrugged. “Well fuck me sideways. Truce. But only so that you can redeem yourself. Also a lil help would be appreciated.” he gestured towards the van, shuffling around awkwardly.

Kuroo laughed, scratching at the back of his head. “You lying devil, you. So you are gonna try and do something about it.”

“’Course. That asshole can’t just stroll in and look down on me. ‘Sides… “ He turned away, rummaging through the trunk, his voice evening out as he dragged out one guitar case, fiddling with the straps. “It’s been a while since I jammed with Bobata.”

Needless to say, Akaashi Keiji protection squad wasn’t formed fast enough. Terushima was all over the place and from what Kenma saw, he could confirm that the punk was, indeed, an asshole. There were groups of girls which he approached, charms turned on at full force, yet from the side he looked like a wolf ready to snatch innocent sheep. It was disturbing to look at, the way he and his pals attempted to hit on them, and Sawamura had to step in with an exaggerated roll of his eyes in order to pry the insistent guys away from Kiyoko. She had looked all sorts of uncomfortable and Nishinoya had spat something hateful to their 'crew', but Kiyoko was the one to stop him. The two of them disappeared into the crowd and Kenma didn't get to see Nishinoya until way later.

He did, however, find Tanaka having a good time with the rest, but once he overheard Shouyou ask for Nishinoya, the buzzcut's face clouded and he merely shrugged, giving cryptic replies. For some reason, Kenma felt like he had slept through yet another drama and he was strangely thankful for that.

Shouyou had been a blur of colors as he dragged Kageyama around the entire night, and they had participated in all kinds of weird activities. For bonding, his best friend insisted and twirled around the torches he'd been given, still amazed by Sugawara’s show from earlier. The guy put up a truly amazing one, fire gleaming around him as he danced and recieved a fair amount of appreciation. He also took it upon himself to teach those who wanted to learn it and Kenma had to warn Hinata to wipe at his drool when the other, once again, made sure that Kageyama truly was a natural at everything which required strength, concentration and precision. Naturally, Hinata had felt the urge to beat him at it immediately and ended up almost burning his torso.

So of course, hanging out with his best friend on his birthday was completely out of the question. Just like Kenma had expected it.

Yachi was a slightly unwilling party member of the booze-loving squad. She sat a little further away from the rest, her gaze strangely glazed over as she glanced at Yamaguchi who looked like he really wasn’t okay. Kuroo had whispered into her ear to ask the freckled man to take a break when they were passing their group. Yachi only gnawed at her lower lip, fiddling with the strings of her shorts.

Kuroo insisted on sticking around and Kenma felt as though he was stuck in a dream because the guy was a warm presence by his side, completely sober and he didn't even touch the beer that had been pushed into his palm by one of his friends. He even asked if Kenma wanted to take a sip and laughed at the face that the shorter one made at the mention of it. Beer wasn’t exactly Kenma's taste and getting drunk on it all the way back in eleventh grade, was by no means a good idea. It still made him feel nauseous.

However, the moment was extremely short-lived as Sawamura, who had been keeping an eye out for Keiji, suddenly stopped them. Just a little further away, Akaashi was seated next to Bokuto, wriggling his toes in the sand as the other looked concerned, his mouth constantly moving, probably asking the other what was wrong. Kenma winced at the sight of Terushima approaching the duo quickly, sticking his tongue out at Sawamura, a piercing shining on it.

“Holy shit, code red.” Kuroo cursed. Sawamura was already on it, and he looked at Kenma, annoyance apparent on his features. “Just stay here if—“

Looking back at the oblivious and upset face of his senpai, Kenma decided to suck it up. He didn’t want to see Akaashi get hurt in any way and if that were to happen, he decided to at least be there for support. Quickly, he shook his head no and tugged on Kuroo’s wrist, a feeling of determination of which he was completely unaware of flooding his senses. Those dark eyes widened when Kenma broke into a slow run, dragging the taller one behind, ears hot at his own boldness. “No time. We have to stop this.”

“Are you going to be alright?” the taller one asked, seemingly concerned. He sped up so that they were running side by side.

“I don’t know, doesn’t matter.” Kenma muttered, a feeling of dread pooling in his gut.

His heart sank to his heels and somehow he knew that Kuroo’s did too, when they saw that Akaashi had noticed Terushima. He slowly stood up, flicking off sand from the backs of his thighs. Bokuto was looking between them, blatantly confused. Sawamura continued staring, seemingly murderous.

And yet, in the end it seemed that Akaashi didn’t need any of them.

“Long time no see, Kei-chan.” Terushima smiled, all pretense and insincerity. He was ready to go in for a hug but Akaashi stepped back, frowning in disgust.

“Fuck off.”

Bokuto’s eyebrows shot up as did Kenma’s. It was a bit unusual to see the black-haired man talk like this no matter what situation, and act so flippant. Though, despite the waves of confidence that he was emitting, there... was something off about him. The dead look in his eyes betrayed it all. It was as though a self-defense mode had been turned on.

Terushima laughed, amazed as he stuffed his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Wow, I can’t believe this, you grew a spine! That’s super amazing! I think I’m gonna fall for you all over again.”

Disgusted by the scene unfolding, Kenma felt Kuroo leave his side as he discreetly went to Bokuto - who was beginning to look a lot less dumbfounded and more straight up suspicious. A deep frown was etched between his eyebrows and Kuroo extended one arm to help him up, whispering something into his ear.

Keiji tensed, his face seemingly turned to stone. There was a flicker of some sort of emotion in his eyes. “Hilarious, Terushima-san.”

“Ahhh… still a stuck up. Boo. Got my hopes up.” The punk pouted in a show of a child-like fit, rocking himself back and forth as though he was contemplating something.

Akaashi didn't give him the time. “Why are you here.”

“Not even gonna get a hello?”

“Why. Are you. Here.” he repeated himself. Kenma heard Akaashi’s chest rumble as he ground it out, voice layered with spite. The blond felt an urge to hide behind Kuroo’s back once he met the flitting gaze of the punk’s light brown eyes.

“Personally, we showed up here to have a fun time, and boy am I having one.” he spread his arms out, the movement earning a warning growl from Kuroo. “Also free drinks. And a huge crowd full of hot people is always a wonderful bonus.” Terushima’s eyes landed on Sawamura who frowned, jaw tightening a little. It didn’t last for long. After all, Keiji was the main entertainment tonight. “That’s what performing is all about, remember?”

“So you’re here to show off. Typical.”

“I don’t know, Kei-chan. You tell me if you can.” Terushima knew exactly what he was doing as he took a few steps forward, leaning in slightly.

Akaashi’s eyes widened for a fraction of a second before he curled back, one arm wrapping around the other as though he was hugging himself, dark eyes cast downwards. A stance of someone who had been defeated. A rush of absolute thrill went through the punk as he was admiring the sight before him. Keiji was the way he was supposed to be. Just like this.

'He hadn't changed.'

Picking up on it, Bokuto jumped forward, now certain that something was definitely wrong and Kuroo had to hold him back by his shoulder so that the other wouldn’t attack.

“Hey, pal, you’re trying to start something here?” the silver-haired man roared, earning some worried and curious gazes from people around. Whispers began spreading and Kenma swallowed nervously, uncomfortable by the sudden shift of attention.

However, the other wasn’t done.

Clenching his fists in frustration, he turned to the frightened man, who was standing so still, he seemed frozen. He didn’t even bother to look up or acknowledge Bokuto’s sudden act of defense in any way, as though he was a marble statue that only looked incredibly real. Kenma even began to doubt that Akaashi was breathing. “Akaashi, say something! Is this the reason why you’re acting like this?” Bokuto gestured at Terushima whose face fell, a look of distaste surfacing as he curled back his lip slightly, showing sharp teeth. He didn't like to be pointed at by some random dudes. “Why are you letting this guy walk all over you like that?”

“So let me guess, him?” Terushima questioned, followed by a quirk of a pierced eyebrow. He snorted when he saw the red splotch of bruising on Bokuto’s nose from the volleyball game. It made the guy a whole lot less frightening, more akin to an owl with its plumage flared up. “I thought you could do better than that.”

“Easy.” Kuroo had hissed, once he noticed a vein throb at his friend’s temple. Bokuto never took well to insults from strangers and now that his boyfriend’s honor was on the line… On different circumstances Kuroo would’ve agreed that maybe Akaashi deserved someone better, but his best friend was being dissed by the biggest douche on the face of the earth and he couldn’t simply watch that. He even considered letting Bokuto’s shirt go, ready to join him in beating up the bastard. Bokuto almost flared up and did just that, but something in Keiji’s sudden glance kept him in place as he stewed in barely restrained anger.

“You want me to 'tell you, if I can'? Do you think I will honestly give into your childish challenges? I don’t care anymore, and who knows, maybe I never did." Akaashi took in a shaky breath and steeled himself, gaze defiant. "I have new reasons why I play and trust me, you’re no longer an influence to me or my style. So, please, with all due respect, as an artist I ask of you to leave me alone and let me do my own thing and as your ex – fuck the hell off, Yuuji, no one cares.”

And with that, Akaashi was off, only stopping to grab a bottle of beer from the nearest person. He took a huge gulp from it, and without any futher ado - disappeared in the crowd.

Those who have witnessed the sickest throw down in the history of their gatherings started ‘oooh’ing. Kenma barely restrained himself from laughing as Daichi hid his smile behind his fingers, snorting. “Do you need some ice for that burn?”

“I think he needs a sweeping, because that was so intense I only see ashes. Let me fetch my broom.” Kuroo sniggered, clapping Bokuto’s shoulder as if hoping to cheer up his friend, but the other didn’t seem too entertained. In fact, he was livid. Stomping to the punk, he glared with the intensity of a thousand suns, looking way more intimidating than Kenma had ever seen him.

“If I see you near Keiji today, I’ll break every bone in your body, am I clear?”

Slightly pale, Terushima frowned at the threat. Kenma was uncertain how the other was still holding up so well. It was like water on a goose, the words and the jabs, as he immediately gathered himself together, a fake grin plastered on while he countered. “Get the fuck out of my face, it’s unsightly. I had my fun. Don’t really give a shit for that kid, really. He’s all yours.” He raised his arms up in a casual shrug and took a few steps back. Sawamura followed him as if to make sure that no more commotion would be caused that night.

Bokuto took in a deep breath to calm himself, threading his fingers through his hair. He sat down on the sand, staring down anyone who was brave enough to keep looking. Kuroo joined in and Kenma walked closer, as he and Kuroo wordlessly decided to comfort the other.

The silver-haired man rubbed at his face repeatedly, “I just had the most intense epiphany in my life.” he muttered through splayed fingers and Kuroo placed an arm around the other’s shoulders in a half-hug, patting his chest.

“We all have those, bro.” Kuroo mused in a mock wise tone, a slight smile on his lips.

“No, I mean. I get it. I get why he was acting with me like this… all this time. He… He thought that I – I. Kuroo, am I an asshole like that guy?”

“Well, you kinda are a big douche, but trust me, you’re no Terushima. How ‘bout you let Kenma answer this one.”

The blond almost jumped up in surprise at the mention of his name, as he suddenly remembered the event from before. He was so busy focusing on other stuff that he had somehow forgotten all about his outburst. And the fact that Bokuto was the one to… well…

Of course, Kuroo just had to play mind games and make sure all was cool between them. Bokuto looked up as though he just noticed that Kenma was awkwardly shuffling before him and hopped up to his feet so fast that Kenma almost fell down on his butt in return. It didn’t last too long, because Bokuto was on his knees in the blink of an eye, smacking his head into the sand repeatedly as he tried to keep his voice down while apologizing, not really wanting more attention to be directed their way. “I am so damn sorry. I never knew that you were scared of water, and if I had known, I would’ve never done this, oh my gosh I am trash and I understand if you hate me but I really am—“

“Uh, it’s fine, um. You don’t have to do this. Please, get up.” Kenma whined a bit desperately, his face red. It was too embarrassing. He didn't know, after all. In fact, he was the guilty one here. He should've told the others that he was no good when it came to dealing with water.

“I must make it up to you somehow!” another painful slam of a forehead into the sand.

With a weary sigh, Kenma got down on his knees and awkwardly patted that broad back. Bokuto glanced up, amber eyes wide and sparkling with... tears. Specks of sand fell out of his sharply arched eyebrows as he blinked to protect himself from them. Kenma was a tad scared of the intensity of that stare. “I-If you really wanna make up for it… g-go find Akaashi-san. He… uh, he really needs you right now, I'm sure.”

“He’s got the right idea, Bo.” Kuroo agreed, standing up himself and toeing at Koutarou’s back, reprimanding. "Go to that boy. He’s in need of emotional support. Long exposure to Terushima tends to damage brain cells, you know. Give him some sugar healing therapy.” He snickered at the creative name that he came up with and Kenma hid his face, getting secondhand embarrassment.

“You’re right… I really have to go and clear things up. Thanks, guys.” Bokuto brightened up as he shook the sand out of his hair, flecks of it getting on Kenma’s bedhead. “I really really appreciate all you’ve done for Keiji. Continue taking care of him while I ain’t around, alright?”

“You got it.”

“And Kenma. Thanks.” Bokuto bear-hugged the smaller blond, getting carried away and lifting him off his feet. He felt Kuroo jab his pointy ass elbow into his ribs and quickly set the other down, grinning wildly. Kenma simply stood there, looking frazzled as though he was a kitten that had been left in the same room with a bunch of children. He truly felt like one when Bokuto clapped his back, the slap strong enough to make him stumble forward. ”Consider us besties.”

Oh boy.

“Hey, I thought that was my title!” Kuroo pouted and clutched at his chest dramatically. Kenma could almost visualize a sad violin playing in the background to complete the image.

Bokuto seemed to have been fooled by the act, as he quickly grabbed Kuroo’s shoulders and shook him to snap him out of his sad moment filled with unspeakable angst. “You’re the best bro! That’s different. It’s like a soulmate. Soulbro.”

Kuroo swooned. “Oh, Bo.”

Playfully, Bokuto clutched his friend’s hands in his own bigger palms and deeply looked into his eyes. Kenma coughed into his fist. “We are gonna have a moment later, okay? I gotta flee. My love needs me.” he dramatically let go and turned away, the back of his hand covering his eyes. Kuroo just laughed and pushed at him lightly whispering a small ‘okay, just get on with it already’, smacking his butt when Bokuto took off, clouds of dust in his wake. Kenma couldn’t help but smile in amusement.

Kuroo was by his side instantly, a sly grin on his lips. Troublemaker mode was once again in order. “So… what’s next? Ready to see Konoha’s revenge show?”

And Kenma? He felt a bit of an urge to do wild things, too.

“I… you know what? I think I am.”

Chapter Text

It felt a bit like the start of a huge-scale concert. The batted breaths, the whispers and excitement were something almost tangible. Truly, a mood had been set along with the small makeshift stage and the masses of people that were standing on their tiptoes or tables in order to see it better.

Finally, sun had set, stars overtaking, twinkling in cobalt skies above. The beach was lit beautifully, soft orange glow of the torches and many bonfires illuminated the glittering sand, reflected on the turbulent surface of the ocean. Lights of the resort town further away could be seen, a row of blurry neons protruding all the way into the water where piers were built. Soft music had been playing for a few minutes now as Terushima’s people ran sound checks and worked on tuning their instruments, only the lanterns and the glow of their laptops providing some light. All of it for the sake of suspense, for the sake of the show.

Kenma had asked Kuroo about this place. Just how much did he spend?

“Almost nothing.” The guy had replied as he stole a piece of sushi from a tray that some girl had carried, meant for her group of friends, nestled on the stairs further away. She laughed at the man’s attempts to steal more and playfully kicked the back of his shin before skipping away. “Actually, this place is meant for these kinds of celebrations. Birthdays, weddings, you name it. My aunt’s husband’s brother owns it, and well, the guy’s pretty cool. He didn’t mind making a reservation for the day. Though if anything breaks, I’m as good as dead.” Taking notice of Kenma’s horrified expression, he merely laughed. “Of course, that’s the main reason why I absolutely refuse to drink today. Gotta keep an eye on things. Asked some people to play security as well, but as I can see.” A pointed look sent Yamamoto’s way. “They kinda forgot about it. Jeez, gotta do everything around here by myself.”

They continued to wait, silently trash-talking Terushima in case some morbid fan was to overhear them. Soon after, they were joined by a normal-looking Akaashi and Bokuto. Kenma noticed that they were almost holding hands, pinkies twined. He quickly looked away, cheeks flushed pink. He still had a hard time wrapping his mind around the fact that the two of them were this bold with their affection. Bokuto and Kuroo immediately slammed into each other, talking animatedly and Kenma decided to make Akaashi feel better. Seemed like the other one didn’t really needed it but appreciated the sentiment nonetheless.

His face turned stony once more when the first accords destroyed the buzzing sort of silence and lights turned on, blinding Kenma for a moment. The crowd roared in excitement, followed by clapping and deafening whistles.

And shit.

He may not know that much about performing, but the band was too good.

Kenma was too mesmerized by the brunet guitarist’s fingers flying over taut strings, so he barely registered Terushima seizing the microphone, greeting those who were gathered. Bokuto pulled on his lower eyelid and stuck out his tongue as Kuroo booed, trying to keep it down.

They were called “Valor and Simplicity” and the first song that they had played brought back all kinds of memories to Kenma. Memories he’d rather not have, yet cherished nonetheless.

The rave. The dancing.

Arctic Monkeys were definitely his jam.

“How’s he singing so clearly?” He almost had to shout into Akaashi’s ear in order to be heard over the noise. The older one didn’t even bother to glance his way, glaring at the stage, nose scrunched up.

“He’s lived in America since he was ten.” Akaashi finally replied, eyebrow twitching. Terushima’s voice was still ever-orgasmic and his charisma was overflowing. He was beginning to worry for the health of the ladies gathered at the front. “His parents got divorced and his mother is American, apparently. I don’t recall Terushima having any kind of accent no matter in what language he sang. Guess that’s what you call raw talent.”

“You don’t really have an accent when you sing, either.” Kuroo supplied, overhearing their conversation. “At least I can’t hear any.”

“I do.” Akaashi’s shoulders sagged, a display of disappointment. Comparing him to someone like Yuuji was a lot like comparing a bush to a tree. Their difference was that great. “I can only get rid of it if I try a lot and practice, yet I always slip up if I’m not focused enough. Speaking without one is impossible for me. For that guy, though…” he shot another blazing look at the blond punk bathed in orange light. “It’s effortless.”

It was obvious that no matter what any of them said, Akaashi wouldn’t feel any better, so they dropped the subject.

Terushima had that voice that made Kenma’s ears swoon and he hated them for being so traitorous because, as long as he was concerned, the guy was still an asshole. Yet the crowd, he couldn’t blame. The punk’s control of it came to him as natural as breathing, he knew how to rile them up, how to get attention and keep it in place, on him, on his hypnotizing voice. While Akaashi looked like he loved singing and it brought immense joy to him as he poured his emotions into it, for Terushima it was like having sex. Passionate, sexy, mic always just at the right angle or distance. Good emotions, positivity. Playfulness. Fun.

Cautiously looking around, Kenma was waiting for something to happen, some sort of unexpected twist of events that Konoha had sworn to them and he relaxed, if only a little, when he felt Kuroo’s arm brush against his own, the guy’s face close.

“Well, you certainly are quite a singer.”

Kenma jumped back, eyes wide. He…

Gosh, he started singing along, hadn’t he?

In an attempt to salvage some remains of his pride, he jabbed Kuroo’s ribs, pushing at him slightly in a show of displeasure. “If that’s your way of making fun of me, it’s just l-low.”

“Hey hey, chill now. I was dead serious.” Kuroo countered defensively, arms raised. “You have a nice voice. Know the song?” he asked, sending an indecipherable look at the stage. Terushima was completely lost in the zone, eyes closed, one leg on top of a quivering sound speaker. A row of black tribal tattoos circled his shin.

And how could Kenma not know it, a smile resurfacing on his lips. He thought about home and of his siblings, the days they had spent marathoning movies whenever Kenma was feeling too upset to play with them. Fantasy knights, dragons and princesses could wait as they forced him to watch Scott Pilgrim vs the World ten times too many. And how fitting it was, Kenma thought ironically, listening to the chorus of ‘Black sheep’.

That probably made Akaashi… Scott?

His thoughts were about to take an interesting turn but then the crowd started ’ohh’ing and their attention was snapped back to the stage, Kuroo’s grin looking downright evil as he yelled, whooping loudly, Bokuto joining in moments later. Akaashi’s eyes were the size of saucers as he shook his head in disbelief.

Konoha had effortlessly climbed onto the stage, making a grand entrance out of the shadows, a black shimmering guitar resting snugly by belt-adorned hips. He nodded at someone on the side, a spare mic thrown his way.

The music had died down because of the guy’s sudden appearance, curious mutters rolling over the crowd as people who were familiar with the fox-like man and their secret shows screamed their encouragements, successfully drowning out the displeased booing of Terushima’s fanclub in the first row. Akinori flipped them off and bowed politely, turning to the confused punk. The band’s awesome guitarist was ready to lash out or say something but it was enough for Terushima to wave one arm to make him settle, an amused grin on the punk’s lips. He seemed god-awfully entertained, just like the rest.

Akinori graciously mock-bowed to the punk before him, too, as though it was a medieval ball and Terushima was a beautiful lady that he had to ask out for a dance. He then tapped his mic to see if it was working, faced the crowd and cleared his throat.

“We’re gonna crash your party for a bit, but for a really good reason.” He spoke, casual as ever. Terushima only laughed incredulously, with a slight shrug, mouthing a ‘sure’. “Great, leave your drummer tho, he’s a cool guy. Haruki, c’mere.” Akaashi’s band’s usual drummer joined him with a shit eating grin, eyes scanning the crowd. People were buzzing, uncertain what was happening as the blond skillfully put his mic into the spare stand, fixing it to his lips and glancing at Terushima, a cool look in his narrowed eyes. “This one is called ‘We Hate You, Please Die’.”

If Kenma were any bolder, he would’ve started screaming along with the rest, absolutely ecstatic by this change of events as Konoha played, all over the place. Bokuto let out a screech of victory and Akaashi was covering his mouth as the crowd jumped into the beat, all as one, the man’s dark eyes more alive than Kenma had ever seen them. He was a bit worried that the other might start crying, his form shook lightly yet once he removed his palm, a brilliant smile was stretching his lips.

It ended far too fast for the crowd and in return they demanded an encore, Akaashi’s fans being the loudest. Keiji looked lost and slightly floored by the praise. He felt as though he was the only one out there, people disappearing, only the muted pleas for more echoing in his overheating head and perhaps this was the greatest and the most eye-opening moment of his measly routine-driven life.

Konoha’s eyes were settled on him as the guy easily noticed him in the large crowd. Perhaps, he really did stand out. One hand wrapped around the other, curling into himself while the movement and bouncing almost closed in on him.

Terushima spewed some sarcastic praise into his mic but Konoha cut him off with a deathly glare and a shout into his mic. “I wasn’t done talking, asshole, go sit in the corner and wait for your turn. Keiji. Keiji, look at these people. Look at what could be. Just… I beg, no, we beg, for you to come onto the stage when you’re ready. Your fans need you.” A loud roar of some groups in the crowd followed, accented by the stomping of their feet.

He then reluctantly pushed the mic into its holder, looking equal amounts of sad and fierce as he’d been the entire evening. Terushima clapped his forearm in a fake display of encouragement and smirked, making Akinori wish he could take off the instrument hanging by his hips so that he could bash the other’s face in. He didn’t feel like going to jail yet.

“Touching,” the punk said, sarcastic. “But words are simply words in the end. Lovely performance by the way, brings back memories, right, Kei-chan? I’ll be waiting for you to climb the stage and until then, let’s continue the tradition.”

The brunet guitarist elbowed Akinori out of the way, glaring slightly as the other kicked him in retaliation yet he backed off, joining Komi who was looking a whole lot less confident now that Keiji wasn’t there with them. Yet another song from that god-forsaken movie played.

“Sooo, Akaashi,” Kuroo draped a familiar arm over those unsteady shoulders. ”Your gang is all there. You’re just gonna leave them like that and make them suffer the biggest shame of the lifetime?”

“Kuroo.” Bokuto hissed in warning, looking contemplative himself.

A few moments passed till Akaashi found it in himself to reply, his mouth awfully dry. “I… Akinori can handle everything by himself, I’m sure.”

But the more Kenma looked their way, the less certain he was about that statement and he was painfully aware that the rest knew it, too. Even Akaashi, who was firmly lying to himself. The fox-like blond looked ready to kick over the sound speakers in frustration as he ran his fingers over his already frazzled hair, pacing around. Komi seemed like he was reassuring the other, claiming that Akaashi will show, believing in him—

The song was over and Terushima, with a shit-eating grin, announced the title of the next jam, one arm in the air. “This one goes out to my beloved Kei-chan. “

‘I’m sad, so very sad.’

Now he was just asking for it by being an asshole.

Bokuto stood close to his boyfriend and Kuroo obeyed by stepping back, letting them have some space. Akaashi was gnawing at his lower lip, yet there was an igniting fire in his eyes, burning like embers. The silver-haired man patted his curly hair, whispering into the other’s ear. “I don’t really get it, but my offer still stands, Keiji. I can go beat his ass up for you. Right now.”

And he looked like he really meant it, like he was craving to do just that.

One hesitant look at the stage and their gazes met, Terushima licking his upper lip almost tauntingly, silver gleaming and Akaashi…

He had enough.

“No,” the black-haired man simply said as he swiftly twisted out of Bokuto’s hold. “You were right all along, Koutarou. I… This isn’t right, and you know what? I’m done. “

“Akaashi…” Kuroo whispered, taken aback, and Kenma couldn’t believe his own eyes when the guy tore through the crowd, disappearing out of sight as he pushed through the gaps of people.

He hopped onto their small stage, a fierce movement that left his bandmates teary-eyed and in various states of glee. They rushed into the front while Akaashi took out the mic.

It was quiet.

“Give them hell, babe!” Bokuto’s loud call seemingly set them all on fire and Akaashi sent a nervous glance at the looming crowd, breaths held with anticipation but Terushima was all he saw, Yuuji Yuuji Yuuji.

“That’s not my name. I’m Akaashi Keiji.” He faced the man as he shook in his own boots, and Kenma felt himself shudder continuously, too. Bokuto almost sobbed beside him, Kuroo rubbing his back. Never had he witnessed something so powerful. “I shall accept your petty challenges. Let’s play like we used to.” Keiji spoke calmly and was slightly started to see Terushima’s band joyfully hooting their appreciation.

His ex only smiled, hand placed on hip as he replied. “You grew, though that doesn’t mean you can win just yet! Let’s continue!” He directed at the crowd and it felt as though a gust of wind blew by, energetic and challenging at the same time.

“Our baby is all grown up, I’m so proud I think I’m gonna cry.” Kuroo breathed out, eyes shimmering with unspeakable emotions that he’d never thought he was capable of feeling. He smacked Bokuto’s back a few more times, while the other discreetly wiped his strayed tears onto his friend’s shirt. Kuroo pulled in a still very stunned Kenma by the shoulders and smiled brightly. “Let’s have fun!”

“We are Fukurodani!” Konoha yelled and music was once again in the air, epic and fast-paced as Akaashi stood still, eyes closed, waiting.

And when he sang, it was beautiful. Alive. There weren’t enough positive words in Kenma’s vocabulary to describe it. The tree of them jumped, arms holding each other tightly, yelling their appreciation for the band, yelling for Konoha to win the guitar solos. Exhilaration was almost tangible as Kuroo felt warm, heart beating wildly in his ribcage, right under Kenma’s sweaty palm and Kenma thought that he’d never forget this moment until the day he died. This pure bliss that washed away all of his previous fears and doubts, Akaashi being the perfect example of everything he wished to be and achieve in life.

By the end of it everyone had worked up a fine sweat, Terushima wiping at his sticky forehead and Keiji not minding the small droplet on the tip of his own nose, focused on the mic that the other had pushed between them, uncomfortably close as he tried to maneuver his beloved Fuku - the guitar that Komi had eagerly pushed into his slick palms. He was prepared, all of them were, and Akaashi almost felt cheated but never had he felt so good.

On some level, his heart was overflowing with joy because he got to have this song, this one last song with the man that he had admired years ago, the one who got him hooked on the love of his life - music. And no matter what happened between them, Akaashi could still appreciate the duets, blocking out the rest and living only in that exact moment. Nothing mattered.

Just him and what he loved. Overcoming the fear.

He was almost panting by the end of it and he felt a tear slip from his eye at the praise and thunderous clapping. Terushima was clapping too, something knowing in those eyes, and as much as Keiji hated it, he couldn’t help but feel just slightly grateful.

“Thank you, Fukurodani!” Yuuji yelled into the mic, panting slightly.

A moment of shine. All his. Theirs.

He bowed.

-

“That’s my man defending my honor!” Bokuto hollered, fist pumping.

“That’s really not it.” Kuroo snickered, but seemed ecstatic nonetheless. Kenma still felt like he had died and gone to heaven.

“I know!” his friend agreed, beaming, and disentangled himself from their formed ‘wall’, rushing in the direction of the stage.

“Still speechless?” Kuroo whispered into the small blond’s ear, lips brushing against the shell of it and Kenma mindlessly rubbed at it, eyes wide and focused on the stage as he saw Bokuto sweep Akaashi off his feet and spin him around with only one arm. The black-haired man’s eyes were wet by the time he was set down and people rushed forward to congratulate him.

He said nothing more and Kuroo understood.

-

“I’m sorry.” Keiji said after everything had died down and they were seated a little further away. Lantern lights didn’t reach too well there, and the sand of the dunes felt warm under their bodies. Akaashi kissed him slowly, full of regret and apologies that Bokuto didn’t understand nor did he need. He’d forgive Keiji no matter what. There was nothing to forgive.

“I misjudged you.” he weakly laughed against the taller one’s lips, his face still a bit wet from happy tears. “I’m really sorry, I-“

“Don’t say anything, it’s okay! Really!” Bokuto reassured and wiped at the salt water sticking to those pale cheeks.

-

After he’d caught up with Keiji, he asked.

“Was it because I remind you of him?”

And Keiji had been cold, so cold, all this time, because of some past wounds.

“I’ll get over it.” He said and all that Bokuto did was promise to stay by his side and see it through till the very end. He trusted his loved one. “I’m just glad that you understand.”

-

And he did. And he promised he’d change. He wouldn’t be another unmentionable name on Keiji’s list, something that brought him an equal amount of pain and sadness. He’d make Keiji happy, so that no sadness could reach him again.

They’ll be fine.

-

Kuroo had left him by himself for a bit, promising to be back really soon. Seemed like he had some urgent party-related business to attend to. Something about jelly.

Kenma had waved him off, understanding. He insisted on checking on Yachi, either way.

And it looked like she had seen better days in her life.

Now Kenma wasn’t blind or anything, he had seen Hitoka carefully avoiding Yamaguchi Tadashi and his drunken ass, but it seemed that no matter what, she couldn’t leave him alone. She was worried; he could see it in her brown doe-like eyes as she dealt with the drunken bunch. Only a slight bit of relief overtook her when she noticed Kenma, who was, thankfully, sober.

“I can’t stand this anymore.” She said and pulled on Yamamoto’s unsuspecting wrist, a lit cigarette dangling between those fingers. The blonde took a deep inhale before Kenma could warn her. He had learned his lesson after all. She gagged, grasping at the column of her throat.

Yamaguchi didn’t care.

“Yeah, they’re gone.” She clarified as Sugawara walked by, a pinched frown on his face. He glared at Tanaka.

“Put that down.” He scolded in a motherly fashion and Tanaka fixed bloodshot eyes on him, whispering a weak ‘wot’. ”I have to talk with you.”

“Suga, I’m really not in the right state of mind to talk. Yeaaah.” The buzzcut replied but Sugawara only clicked his tongue and crossed his arms, shooting a disappointed look at Ennoshita who was supposed to act like a stand-in babysitter that night in his place. Ennoshita only shrugged, eyes rimmed red.

“What are you on?” Suga insisted, voice weirdly sharp, too sharp for someone like him. He looked more than just a little annoyed and Yachi sank into her beanbag, covering her face as she whispered ‘here it comes’.

“…On the sofa.” Chikara replied and pat the free space beside him. Yamaguchi, who had been lying on the floor and looking at the roof of the terrace with Yaku by his side while they discussed the meaning of life and other things, started howling with laughter.

Sugawara sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “Where’s Nishinoya? I haven’t seen that boy all night.”

Oh.

Tanaka shot up at the mention of the short male, suddenly more aware than before. “Who the hell cares about that…” He stifled a burp. Yamamoto punched his arm. “Traitor? Ran off with Kiyoko the moment I asked him if he’s gay…”

Yamaguchi’s laughter died down.

“If he’s fucking Asahi or something like that, why the fuck does he get to have her, too? That doesn’t make any fucking sense, I tell you. Disgusting…“ Tanaka groaned and Yachi let out a squashed whimper.

Kenma stared incredulously, a bit offended. Sure, Tanaka tended to say shit like this on daily basis, but never this... openly? He guessed that the alcohol was doing the talking here.

He continued. “Not much of a fucking friend he is, if he steals your girl while being gay.”

Sugawara was trembling from anger, lightning flashing in his usually gentle eyes but all of their attention snapped back to Yamaguchi who was slowly lifting himself up, falling over a few times. He was muttering something incoherent to himself until his tongue felt less constricted and he could voice out a broken: “That’s it, I can’t fucking listen to this anymore…”

Unsteady on feet, he swayed slightly and Sugawara wanted to hold him up, but with a grumble the freckled man swatted the other’s prying arms away. He was just fine.

“I-I think… with all due respect, Tanaka-ssssan.” He stumbled a little and Yaku slid further away in case he’d be crushed to death. Yamaguchi’s eyes were unfocused, glancing at the fine wooden floor below as though he kept forgetting what he was saying. His glare was intense, though. “I… I don’t think that you are much of a friend for what you’re sayin to No-Noya-san… He can like Kiyoko-san and Asahi-san at… the same time… there’s nothing wrong with it.”

People stared, dumbfounded, lost in various states of confusion. Yachi sat up properly, whispering a small “oh, Tadashi…”

Tanaka gaped like a fish pulled out of water and Yamaguchi couldn’t even finish his speech when Yachi all but ran at the speed of lightning to him, a bucket ready in her arms, just in time. The man would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for Suga’s quick reaction.

He heaved his guts out while Kenma wished for Kuroo to hurry up and wondered if he should help the blonde girl first. She looked around desperately, unshed tears shimmering in her eyes. She frantically apologized, but then, Yamaguchi stopped heaving and wiped at his mouth, looking up at the girl before him.

“Tadashi.” She worried and placed shaky palms on his shoulders as the other shook his head firmly, immediately regretting that decision. It throbbed painfully as his body detoxicated.

“Shit I’m so so sorry, I’m sorry…” gasps and gagging followed. “I’m fine now, I’m sorry, Tanaka-san.” He coughed, yet the other seemed to have forgotten it already, a worried look on his face.

“Don’t sweat it, kid, go rest.” He offered Hitoka his help but the girl simply shook her head no, tears finally slipping out. Sugawara whispered ‘we’ll talk later’ and they carried out Yamaguchi, sounds of retching in the distance.

-

Kiyoko wasn’t someone who should know of his crush on Asahi but she’s been aware of it since before he even noticed it himself, or so she said. They were sitting on the wet shore, toes slowly getting buried in sand as waves continuously washed the small particles away. Nishinoya vented to her, all of his gathered frustration. His heart throbbed painfully and so did the wound on his hip. He shouldn’t have attempted to breakdance on the table and he was glad that Kuroo had stopped him, looking extremely pale as he caught a falling glass.

But that seemed ages ago.

What burned him the most were the words his best friend had said. Could he even call Ryuu his friend after this? Apparently, the idea of Nishinoya’s bisexuality was just fine with him as long as he liked girls, but the moment he let it slip that he harbored some feelings for a gentle-hearted man...

Nishinoya couldn’t stand the words of contempt, the weirded-out looks and decided to leave. More like, Kiyoko had politely dragged him away.

He was close to tears but she didn’t touch him, only pulled her knees closer as the scarf that was wrapped around her slim hips got wet. She didn’t mind.

“Are you going to return?” Kiyoko asked, her beautiful eyes shimmering in blues as moonlight reflected on them. Noya was incredibly grateful that she decided to stay with him in his time of need, forsaking her own relatively fun time, until drama struck.

Really, he didn’t feel like he deserved it. Just like how he knew that he didn’t deserve her.

He leaned back, looking at the ocean, “You know what, I think I’ll walk to the town. It’s not too late, I could catch a bus home. Got some extra money for that, just in case…” he didn’t want to leave but he didn’t want to face Ryuu either.

She stayed quiet, seemingly lost in thought. After a while she spoke up. “I think that you should tell Azumane.”

Nishinoya felt his chest constricting in fear. He didn’t really do confessing that often. To guys at least.

“I’m not sure about that. Maybe he doesn’t feel the sa-“

“He does.” Kiyoko firmly cut off, frowning slightly. She still looked pretty. “Call him, and if you can, meet him today.”

“He has work tomorrow.”

“Has that ever been a problem?”

True. Asahi was ready to accept Noya into his small apartment whenever the other one wanted to crash by. He was thinking about the brunet, the prospect of confession and what would come after, when he noticed that Kiyoko was standing up, stretching slightly.

“Come now, let me walk you to the town.” she offered, not waiting for him to get up, already walking in the direction of the shimmering lights further away.

“No way! I can't let you walk back by yourself later on! What if someone attacks you?” the boy gasped.

“I think I can defend myself just fine.” She shrugged and looked around, walking just a bit further away.

Truly, they had already trekked quite the distance, the shine of their party far far away. He hadn’t even noticed it as he was too busy angsting while the woman kicked at the water, eyes downcast, humming at appropriate times. Kiyoko crouched down by a washed up huge stick, picking it up and inspecting it carefully. She waved it around like a baseball bat and Nishinoya couldn’t help but laugh at her antics.

She turned around with a smile on her face. “See? I can do this,” the stick was pointed his way. The girl looked serious. “Now call him or I will use it against you.”

“As you wish, Kiyoko-san.” Noya sighed, defeated.

Really, could he ever say no to her?

Once, twice, thrice the phone rang and Asahi’s sleepy voice resounded through the speaker, asking if he was in trouble. Noya fought back that fluttery feeling in his chest again, along with a slight pull on his stomach that made him nauseous, speeding up in attempts to catch up to his companion.

“Um, Asahi, it’s me. Look, there’s something-“

Kiyoko smiled.

-

Sugawara left Yachi and Yamaguchi with a heavy heart. The younger one kept insisting that he was fine and after he had thrown up at least six/five times, the ashen-haired man finally believed him, offering a glass of water and pushing a blanket that he had gotten from one of the rooms into the shaky girl’s hands. She reassured him that they will be fine and he had decided to go back to the building once more and get a few extra blankets for the passed out or dozed off people. Surprisingly, he ran into Daichi in one of the hallways.

He seemed a bit out of it, dark hair slightly messy as he asked him if he had seen Kuroo around. Sugawara heard something about the preparations of party games which, what a surprise, involved more alcohol. He was already feeling that he had more than enough of it, even though he barely felt slightly tipsy - and more than a bit warm in the stomach.

Something caught his vision, unclear, as it was a bit too dark to see.

“Daichi, are you bleeding?” He asked, reaching out to wipe at the corner of his lip, tenderly rubbing. The other hissed and pulled back, licking the fresh blood away.

“Don’t look at me like that, Suga, it wasn’t a fight or anything.” The black-haired man reassured quickly once he saw worry shine in those chocolate-shaded eyes. “I just bit my lip, that’s all.”

And Sugawara would’ve believed him if it weren’t for the fact that his gaze wandered down onto the collar of the other’s shirt, a bruise gleaming there. Something clicked in his head.

“I… I was just going to. Uh.” Sugawara had already forgotten his task as he nervously took a few steps back, heart sinking into the fine carpeted floor, wanting to bury itself under it. “I can’t remember for the life of me.” he blabbered and Daichi merely smiled warmly as he passed the shorter one.

“Take a break, alright? You seem like you’re tired. By the way, I loved your performance.” he sounded so kind, honest and caring that it left the other’s lower lip trembling as he squeezed his eyes shut, fists shaky.

“Daichi, I-“

He stopped in his tracks, looking over his shoulder at the mention of his name. “Yeah?”

“I…”

Hopeless.

“It’s nothing. Have a nice evening.”

He hurried to the end of the hall, to the spiraling staircase, taking three steps at a time to get to the second floor. He needed to be alone for a bit.

“Uh… you too?” Sawamura stared after his friend, eyebrows raised.

Weird.

-

Yachi couldn’t bear to see Tadashi fucking himself over to these lengths. It didn’t matter whether she had promised herself to get over the other or not - in the end, it seemed that no matter what she did that evening or where she went, Tadashi would be just within her range of vision, busy being… not himself.

She had a nagging suspicion that the other was stalking her or something.

Of course, the guy had figured out that she was ever so subtly responding less and less to his pleas to have soulful chats at 3 am. He stared her down whenever their eyes met and she would simply face away, the back of her neck feeling hot. She could still feel his gaze, burning holes into her tender skin.

It was doing things to her.

In the end she had caved in when Tadashi approached her and hugged her from behind, startling her so badly that she dropped her vanilla ice cream. He whined for her to talk to him or to just be around so he’d feel just a little better. It wasn’t like she could say no. She was far too kind.

His voice was too desperate for denials.

And once the other started heaving his soul out, Yachi merely accepted her fate and decided to stay with him. She had been fucking herself over already and thought that sure, one more night couldn’t hurt. Maybe she’d reach some ground-shattering epiphany just like Akaashi did.

So she didn’t mind it when Tadashi dragged her to the swings, his step way more steady than before. Hitoka settled on them first, back pressed into the metal and chains as she tried to figure out how to spread her legs so they would accommodate the freckled man who was snuggly wrapped up in a soft blanket. She didn’t get to properly settle down when Tadashi plopped down, leaning against her front, legs curled. The construction creaked eerily from the sudden movement.

They didn’t say anything for a while, swaying lightly. Hitoka appreciated the beauty of the backyard - it was even more breathtaking now that the white lanterns were lit, illuminating the path and colorful flowers that have retreated into buds now that daylight was gone.

Tadashi was breathing steadily and Yachi thought he had fallen asleep but then he opened his mouth. She tried really hard to dissociate from her personal feelings as she listened to the boy vent about Tsukishima Kei - in how much mental agony he was right now, how Yachi was the only thing that made him happy these days and how much he liked having her around and he was so grateful-

And somehow, at that moment, she saw the absurdity of it all. She had the guy of her dreams against her as they were wrapped up in a blanket, on swings, in the most romantic setting anyone could’ve ever asked for and yet.

The other wasn’t feeling the same. For that matter, she didn’t feel anything too, other than the painful awareness of her situation. She and Tadashi will never be a thing. She got it. Always had.

And somehow that realization made Yachi’s shoulders sag a little as the blonde woman felt something close to relief overtaking her, drowning out the slight disappointment that her epic romance story just… wasn’t meant to be. It wasn’t meant for her in the first place.

“You’re very knowledgeable,” he continued, showering her in praise once silence had fallen. He seemed chatty tonight as he was breathing slow and deep. “Is it because there’s someone you like, maybe?”

She would’ve laughed at the absurdity of it all ‘cept it wasn’t funny. But not sad either - not anymore, at least.

“Yep.” She forced in a fake cheerful tone because she was already deep in this, so why not ruin herself some more. Yachi needed that reality check to confirm her own failures and acceptance.

Tadashi stiffened against her hold, straining. It seemed as though he was a bit uncomfortable with the fact that her chin was pushed into his black fluffy hair, smelling of cinnamon. Hitoka knew that he wasn’t stupid. He probably figured her out ages ago.

“Will you tell them?”

“…Don’t be nosey.” She humored and hugged him tighter. The stars were pretty tonight. So were Yamaguchi’s freckles, peppering those palms as he clutched at their shared blanket. “Maybe one day.” Nah.

He was silent for a while, thinking over those words. In the end, he only gave a non-committal grunt. “Okay.”

And with that, they dropped the subject.

The stars were pretty.

-

Right as Shouyou was about to drag Kenma away to cause even more mischief and start some party games, Kuroo had swiftly inserted himself between them, a huge grin on his lips as he pulled the blond to himself.

“This one’s mine for the night, I made a reservation.” Kuroo explained, unaware of how wrong that sounded taken out of context and Shouyou blinked, a bit confused, but a bright smile graced his lips. He knew what was up as he patted Kenma lightly and let go of his friend’s wrists.

The blond felt as though he had been dragged around since he stepped out of Bokuto’s car hours ago.

But it wasn’t bad, that much he was certain of.

The two of them had silently slipped through the crowd like fish in water, Kuroo navigating them towards the ocean. It was lovely and Kenma no longer felt that surge of panic when water lapped at the soles of his feet, feeling pleasant, the coolness welcome.

The torches were slowly left behind as he and Kuroo kept walking, footprints washing out, lights shining further away. A pier stood there, looking rather old and a little scary in the dark, but Kenma was pleased to see some lanterns (?) placed on it. Seemed that Kuroo was leading them in their direction.

The mentioned man was knees deep in water, waves wetting the fabric of his shorts, making them stick to his skin. He rolled up the sleeves of his sweatshirt and jumped over yet another rolling wave, a look of kid-like joy overtaking him. Kuroo loved the ocean and the atmosphere. The breeze on his skin.

Kenma.

“How'd it came to be?” He wondered suddenly, letting himself sink lower into the sand as more waves rolled over. “This fear of yours.”

Kenma thought it over for a while, a bit uneasy to tell the story. He decided to give the other a short version as he kicked at the sparkling water, making it fan out in droplets. “I… when I was a kid, my family decided to camp out by the lake. Mother went for a swim while I had to babysit my siblings and family friend’s kids. We were having a barbeque and everyone was too busy to notice that my mom’s leg had cramped in the middle of it and she was drowning. One of my siblings happened to look in the right direction at the perfect time,” Kenma shuddered. “If he hadn’t, I don’t even want to know what would’ve happened. “

He fixed some of the straying bleached strands, tucking them behind one ear. The water seemed strangely dark whenever he recalled it. “I jumped in, thinking I could save her. In the end I was the one who needed saving. The sight of my mom’s hand slipping away from mine as she drowned, I don’t think I could ever forget it.”

“But you were fine in the end, right?”

“Yes.” Kenma nodded and pulled his foot from the wet sand encasing it. “Still, it feels like that whenever I start swimming, I’ll drown too. I’ll be the one on the other end and no one would be there to pull me out. I’m not afraid of it. I’m just… queasy. I don’t know if I still remember how to swim properly. Right now, I’m fine. Just takes some time to get used to it.” He explained and walked in deeper, feeling the pleasant sensation of the waves against his calves.

As if noticing Kenma’s hesitance, Kuroo walked forward to join him, extending his arms, palms upturned, an invitation for the other to take hold of them.

Kenma did, slightly hesitating before wrapping his fingers around the thicker ones as Kuroo slowly walked back, getting in deeper.

And it wasn’t scary, he was too focused on the other’s inky hair being ruffled by the breeze, dark eyes warm as he whispered encouragement to the shorter one.

“You’re doing great. It’s not bad, is it?”

“No…”

In fact, he never felt safer before. Even Shouyou didn’t manage to calm him that well, though, despite everything, Kenma was still too uneasy to actually swim with his best friend, preferring to retreat to the shore.

Kuroo stumbled, eyes widening in surprise and almost dragged them down but as though Kenma had overseen something like this happening, he firmly dug his feet into the soft sand, pulling the other back so they crashed together, barely keeping balance when another wave crashed into them.

Kenma looked up, firmly pressed against Kuroo’s chest, eyes widening as he noticed that the other was staring him down, a deep flush on his face. Stars had shined above him and Kenma was certain that he could see some in Kuroo's dark eyes too - a deep abyss full of white specks. He didn’t dare to breathe, fully knowing that he looked like a deer caught in the headlights and it was probably a stupid look on him, but somehow, he didn’t really mind.

“I…” Kuroo spoke up, wetting his lips.

Thump-thump went Kenma’s heart.

“I think I’m done playing a siren.” He joked, voice strangely weak as he looked away and pushed the blond’s shoulders to create distance between them. He seemed ridiculously flustered. “I-I think we should go to the pier now. I feel like doing something crazy right now.”

Kenma watched him go, slightly unsteady as he stumbled over a hollow in the ground, the back of his neck red.

Indeed, the other made a great siren.

He could only absentmindedly follow once the other looked back, wondering what the holdup was, not minding the fact that he was surrounded by water. Just for now, Kenma was at peace with it.

-

The pier was an old thing, creaking with every footfall on its ancient stairs, some lanterns put under it where rubble resided. It was rebuilt a while ago, Kuroo had supplied, and they walked further away, the other using a mini flashlight just in case, though the moon was bright that night. Thankful that there were little-to-none strong waves, he looked down at the swirling depth of sparkling water, smiling slightly. Kenma didn’t know what to make of it and barely had the time to react, catching Kuroo’s sweatshirt before it smacked him across the nose.

“What are you-“ he choked, as Kuroo gracefully slipped off his shorts, blushing deeply, grateful for the lack of proper light.

“Taking a dip, what does it look like?” He replied cheerfully and stretched, making Kenma swallow harshly. “The water’s warm, got used to it already. You can join me if you want.”

The blond froze, holding onto the other’s shirt tighter. That thought hadn’t even crossed his mind.

“Don’t tell me you want me to-“

Again, he couldn’t finish his sentence because Kuroo launched himself forward, kicking at the edge of the pier to propel himself and with a yell that sounded suspiciously like ‘jump!’, he disappeared under the turbulent surface, making Kenma’s rabbit heart pound inside his throat with unease as he grabbed onto the edge. He fell onto his knees and began inspecting the surface, waiting for Kuroo’s head to pop out.

God, what was he thinking? It had to be dangerous! Sure, the pier wasn’t that high, but what if there was more rubble and the other hit his head and died? Almost panicking, Kenma all but whimpered in relief once the other broke the surface, squirting out a bit of water, laughing. He seemed content, relaxing and letting his body drift on the surface as he paddled his feet lightly so he wouldn’t be swept away by the current.

“You’re absolutely insane!” Kenma chastised, grabbing his chest. Good. He was just fine.

The other merely snorted at his worry, secretly touched. “It’s all fine. The bottom is waaaay bellow and people come here all the time. No rubble whatsoever.“ Kuroo casually yelled back, spreading his arms. “In fact, the bottom’s all clear!”

Kenma sat back, still eyeing the other suspiciously, wondering if he should go back to the shore and wait for the guy to swim back, but he showed no such intension, drifting along with the waves, looking… relaxed.

“You can jump in too if you want! I’m here, after all!”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope! Dead serious! In fact, I’ll be the one to catch you and get you back to the shore safely. Promise!” he grinned brightly, shaking his head to the sides and Kenma couldn’t believe his own ears. “How bout it? You jump, I catch. Unless… you’re still not fine with it.”

The noises of the ocean were clear in the night along with some chatter from the party a little further away as Kenma gaped, actually considering it.

He cursed himself out when a piece of his brain mocked him ‘it’s not even that far away, you could do it, you know’. A voice in his head that sounded obnoxiously like Shouyou.

“Are y-you sure? Do you mean it?” Kenma yelled despite himself. He wasn’t actually thinking of doing it, was he? He was just seeking some clarification that Kuroo wasn’t a painful asshole, right?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die!”

That honesty would be the end of him. Literally.

With wild heartbeat pounding in his ears, Kenma couldn’t believe his own traitorous body as he peeled away his shirt, throwing it behind himself, the wind almost carrying it over the edge. He wasn’t ready to jump after it, jump somewhere he couldn’t trust, somewhere Kuroo didn’t exist. He looked down, only to find Kuroo with his arms spread as if he was waiting for the other patiently, an encouraging smile visible even in the dark.

“You better mean it!” Kenma squeaked, closing his eyes and he felt the ancient wood creak beneath his feet, suddenly not there, disappearing, replaced by that sensation of falling, wind pushing his hair in a blur of yellow. He thought he heard some shout, but it might’ve been mistaken for something imaginary. The water spread its welcoming embrace, enveloping Kenma in that sensation, thankfully not getting in his nose. Good thing he had remembered to pinch it shut.

His shirt had slid further down the pier, fluttering in the wind - as if a seal, a pact, of Kenma finally letting his fears go.

-

Everyone had heard the story of Haiba Lev and his séances, it had seemed. The guy was something close to the campus’ local urban legend next to the Bermuda bushes - that had been the catalyst of the awakening of his, as he had called it, ‘third eye’. It was an unfortunate day for him; he fell out of that damn tree which he and Kuroo had climbed in order to spy on Akaashi and Bokuto. A bet had been going around whether the two were an item, and not only did Lev almost break his ass - after the fall he had lost a hefty sum, too. He could’ve bought so much shit with that cash. All that ‘Friday’ money. Wasted.

Not to mention the fact that he was lost in the Bermuda bushes for an hour, thinking over his existence, possibly hearing the wisdom of his long since deceased grandma, telling him that he was gifted and blessed with ‘the sight’.

Needless to say, Haiba Lev had emerged as a brand new man.

Kuroo had directed him to the nearest hospital, but Lev knew that he had changed. He had fully ‘awakened’.

Kageyama thought that it was an absolute waste of his and the man’s time, as he sat down in the incense-filled tiny room, which was most likely used as the janitor’s storage room, Christmas lights taped to the shelves to create that ‘mysterious mood’. He could only hope that the janitor wouldn’t kick them out.

He couldn’t stand the thought of yet another trip to see the RA.

He had slammed down a bottle of vodka - as a fee - on the mini table, Lev cheerfully offering him a shot, but he refused. After all, he had a mission.

Lev probably really did have that third eye. He instantly pin-pointed that Kageyama was in his turf because of his troubles regarding Hinata Shouyou.

Or someone had told the man about it. However, Kageyama didn’t contemplate the possibility, already amazed by the other’s insight.

Lev lavished in the attention as he took out a pack of simple cards that they had used for poker nights, worn from age and use, wine stains on them - Yaku was a sore loser, after all, always splashing the beverage around and cursing them out for cheating. Haiba's grandma would be rolling in her grave, speaking words of wisdom to him – never curse anyone. Karma was a bitch.

Kageyama had intently listened to the bullshit predictions that he couldn’t even decipher. What the hell did ‘all roads lead to Rome’ even mean? Was he supposed to go to Spain or Portugal or wherever Rome was located?

He was swiftly cut off mid-complaint. “Excuse you, need I remind you who has the third eye here?” Lev pointed at the scrawl on his forehead, a crooked eye drawn in golden paint and Kageyama shut up, eyeing the post-rave bracelets hanging on the guy’s wrists. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

In the end it seemed like the fortune-teller himself got annoyed by the dumbfounded look in Tobio’s steel-blue eyes and he sighed, defeated. “You’re just gonna confess your undying love to him at the beach party. You're goin' to have an epic romance and a lot of man-babies. Trust me, all of the planets are aligned and in the right position. The Leo smiles for you, listen to your star sign.”

“Uh, actually, I’m a Capricorn-“

“I meant your day sign, duh!” Whatever that meant. “Though you really do look like a Leo to me.”

Soon after, Lev had ushered him out as he nervously glanced at his watch. The janitor was probably coming soon.

And Kageyama actually felt like he had wasted his brain cells on that ‘séance’, but he had nothing else to believe in, so he just had to trust the Leos and planets. And Rome.

He tried time and time again to subtly tell Shouyou that he liked him, but all that left his mouth was complete and utter garbage that left the orange-haired boy frowning and ignoring him for days. Never weeks. They couldn’t stand the thought of being apart so long for no actual reason. And so, Kageyama firmly decided that come what may, he’d confess on the other’s birthday.

Instead, they competed in everything. Like always.

Not that he didn’t like it or anything, in fact, it was amazing. He liked being better than that stupid Hinata in every way imaginable and he always felt like doing his best in order to keep it that way. Hinata was his drive.

Hinata was… licking at the hard muscles of his stomach as Kageyama prayed for this to be over already while his pride wouldn’t let them be anything less but the top three.

“To the right!” He had demanded as Hinata moved the opposite and Kageyama’s breath hitched. “No, my right, stupid!”

“So which one is it!” He yelled, a scarf around his eyes as he looked in the direction of what he assumed were Tobio’s eyes.

“Before you!” The other yelped, shivering at the feeling of that tongue brushing against his skin as the shorter one licked at a jello shot, almost inhaling it.

And really, this couldn’t carry on.

In the end, they had lost and when Hinata’s tongue wandered far too close to his left nipple for his liking, Kageyama had all but jumped up, forfeiting, his face on fire. Hinata was confused and kept egging him on, whining for Kageyama to slow down as he ran towards the ocean, ready to either jump into it, douse himself in water and cleanse his sinful mind or just drown himself. Anything but looking at Shouyou. He couldn’t deal with his right now.

“Stop chasing me!” Kageyama yelled, noticing that he broke into a full sprint along the line where water met sand and noticing that Hinata was giving chase. He couldn’t handle it.

“Tell me why you’re running then!” Hinata roared and picked up his pace.

Kageyama’s lungs burned and his calves hurt from exertion, the sand taking a lot from him. He could hear Hinata get closer and as they ran to the pier, the orange-haired boy climbed a rock and jumped on him. He settled himself on Kageyama’s lower back while the other choked on sand, spitting. It burned his nostrils and got into his eyes. Great.

At least, the blush was less apparent that way now that he was caked in a thin white layer of it.

“What the hell was up with that?” Hinata panted and rolled off him, his oversized white hoodie looking dirty, yet he didn’t notice. Or didn’t mind.

Kageyama’s nostrils flared up and he tried not to inhale to show his distaste in fear of the particles getting in. “Because!”

“Because what!?”

“…Because!” He parroted childishly, not paying attention at how awful he must’ve looked. Truly, this wasn’t how he had imagined this whole confession business.

They got into a continuous argument that kept using the word ‘because’, yet Kageyama refused to give any actual responses, thankful for the lack of any actual light. He thought that he heard someone walking further away but he wasn’t too sure as the two of them were far too lost in their argument to care for the world around them.

Finally, he almost gathered the courage, staring at Hinata’s fierce eyes that were glaring up at him as the other had his hands fisted into his sweater. It looked as though he was expecting something but then there was a splash further away, catching the orange-haired boy’s attention temporarily. Even in this lighting the duo almost choked, eyes wide, as they saw the undeniable lean form of Kenma Kozume jumping off the pier. They scrambled over the rubble, Hinata screaming in panic.

“Oh no, oh no no no, he probably can’t swim!” He yelled, but the other figure that was with the boy had dived in right before Kenma’s body tore through the surface.

They waited, hearts pounding.

-

At the suddenness of it all, Kenma opened his eyes, knowing that he would regret this later on, the salt burning slightly at his retinas. It was dark all around, a silent depth except for the movement of water, but instead of looking down he glanced up at the surface, the moon gleaming on the waves. It felt… calm.

Not in the sense that he usually got, fearing that he’d have something grasp at his calves and hold him down until he gasped out the remains of his oxygen and death gripped at his lungs and consciousness.

Surprised that he wasn’t sinking, Kenma felt a movement to his side and turned his head, bubbles leaving his mouth in glowing orbs catching the moonlight. Kuroo was there, a firm arm around Kenma’s middle, eyes open as well, holding him up. It looked something straight out of a dream, ethereal and insanely beautiful and the blond would’ve cried at the fluttery feeling settling in his chest, wisps of his fragile hair brushing at the sides of his face and splaying out before his eyes, but it wouldn’t be possible.

Air. He needed air.

With a darting glance he indicated for Kuroo that it was time to surface and the other snapped out of his own trance, quiet ringing in his ears, water sloshing. It was just the two of them.
Quickly they broke the surface, Kenma’s hair matted over his eyes as he coughed, pleased to find that he held himself up just fine, yet Kuroo still held him up just in case, snickering at the sight before him, breathless. Kenma spat out a bit of water that had entered his slackened mouth when he was too busy staring, heart hammering, pressure in his ears.

“That… haha… wasn’t so bad, now was it?” He said and Kenma brushed the soaking bangs out of his eyes, still feeling uneasy at the fact that he’d have no one if Kuroo wasn’t there, uncertain if he would even be able to get back to the shore himself. He tried to block out those prying thoughts as he swam a little closer to the other, hugging him, slightly aware that he was dragging the other down a bit. Kuroo blinked in surprise. “You’re okay there?”

Kenma nodded, holding the other closer. “Yeah, it’s just a little weird. I’m fine, though.”

“Imagine that we’re by the shore,” the black-haired man supplied quietly, his hair sticking to his forehead, obscuring his vision. His muscles were beginning to hurt a little; holding up on the surface with Kenma’s deadweight was just a little hard on him.

“We are pretty close. Not much room for imagination.” Kenma finally took in a deep breath and slid back, knowing that Kuroo was struggling. He held himself up, staring into the other’s eyes. Almost self-consciously, Kuroo pushed back the black mess, a little ashamed. The wet cat image wasn’t for him.

They floated for a bit until Kenma felt goosebumps rising on his skin and Kuroo smiled softly, splashing him a little. Kenma would’ve done that in return, but he didn’t want to lose his sense of stability. Water trickled down his pink cheeks and Kuroo stared intensely, incredibly focused on the dusting of pale freckles on the blond’s skin, standing out whenever the other blushed. It was that look from before - the one that made Kenma’s mind buzz in question, something he couldn’t decipher no matter what, something that set his heart on fire along with the rest of his body. Warmth from the very core of his being, churning at the sight of their distance melting.

He let it, as he took in a shuddering breath.

Kuroo’s wet lips pressed against his and nothing else mattered.

-

“I think they’re just fine…” Hinata whispered as he leaned back, facing Kageyama who was braced against a rotting pole, looking at the sight with a strangle gaze as though he was contemplating something. Hinata smiled.

His heart fluttered with happiness when he saw Kenma’s arms hesitantly wrapping around Kuroo’s neck as they floated, not knowing that they were being watched, the moon and the waves being their only witnesses.

“Let’s go.” Kageyama merely said, tearing his eyes away from the sight unfolding. They were intruding on something private.

Fate wasn’t in his favor and he had foresaken the idea of confessions, dragging Hinata away from the spectacle, a firm wrap of his fingers on that warm wrist.

-

It lasted for centuries in Kenma’s eyes. It was the moment of perfection, something out of a romance movie, and never, not in a million years, he would’ve thought that he’d be kissing someone he liked in the ocean. Someone who was Kuroo Tetsurou.

It felt majestic, that contact of their lips, moving with the right amount of pressure added.

Kuroo laughed against Kenma’s awkward lips. He desperately needed to get a hang on this kissing thing. Secretly, he thought, hoped, to get more practice in the future. Preferably with the one he was holding onto.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” The man chirped, smile bright like the sun, like the moon above.

Out of embarrassment, Kenma dunked the other’s head under the water.

-

Kageyama was brooding, not really knowing it himself, until Hinata dug his heels into the sand and firmly stopped them in their tracks. Surprised yet annoyed, the black-haired man turned around, ready to glare or yell, but he was met with a pair of clumsy lips covering his own. In shock, he almost jolted away, but Shouyou had a firm grip on him. It didn’t last for long, just a soft press of lips, slightly off the center of Kageyama’s mouth, and he had almost felt his face melting off when he sputtered an awkward ‘what’.

And then Kageyama Tobio felt himself being pushed into the water.

Coolness seeped into his clothes as he yelped, displeased by the stick of wet material, feeling unusually cold. Shouyou simply stuck his tongue out at him before he could get up, ready to give the other a piece of his mind and possibly drag him into the water, too. He needed his revenge.

“I’m not losing to you, Stupidyama!” Hinata yelled, jumping a few times to show his frustration and squealed when the other hopped out of the water, giving chase.

It felt too familiar and Kageyama couldn’t help but let a goofy grin slip as he listened to Hinata’s loud laughter, the boy just a little further away, slowing down as if he wanted to be caught. Kageyama didn’t hesitate, arms locking around the short one’s torso and spinning him around, right into the water, splashing him once he broke the surface. In retaliation Shouyou grabbed his ankles, dragging him down with a powerful pull.

They had an all-out water battle and once they thought that they had more than enough, clothes leaking water in rivulets, they decided to return to the party, Hinata’s hand snug in Kageyama’s.

“Don’t take this the wrong way.” Kageyama said, voice bright. His heart swelled in his chest. “You’re still a pain in the ass.”

“Oh, I’m gonna be a pain in the ass.” Hinata chirped. “Same to you, you’re still stupid. I don’t know why I even like you.”

Kageyama pushed him.