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Shouyou walks Kenma back to the office after lunch. They stroll down the streets littered with cherry blossom petals, pinkies linked together, and Shouyou hums a song Kenma has never heard.
Probably something popular.
Kenma squeezes Shouyou’s pinky ever so slightly, smiling soft. Shouyou beams at him in response. He skips as they walk, turning their stroll into a dance. He chats away idly, talking about his day. He speaks about absolutely everything that comes to his mind from his team and volleyball practice, to their upcoming matches, to the new ice cream flavor in the store, to the stray kitten he befriended the other day. His voice washes through Kenma, painting vivid images before his eyes. Shouyou’s world is so full of life, so full of color. Kenma loves listening to his stories. He listens, mesmerized, as he has been listening for over ten years now – and as he is willing, no, as he plans to listen until the end of time. And two can make music: if the melody is carried by Shouyou, Kenma’s hums become the bass to ground it.
The office building Kenma works at comes into view after a turn, looming over them with the bitter promise of separation. Shouyou makes a nervous little chuckle, taking Kenma’s hand in his full, swinging it playfully.
Kenma looks at his perpetual baby face, his slightly flushed cheeks, the subtle hint of anxiety as Shouyou reaches back to scratch the nape of his neck – and wishes that last story about Kageyama’s lost-and-found running shoes would have lasted a little longer. He wishes Shouyou didn’t grow suddenly silent, glancing between him and the building meekly.
“So… we’re here,” Shouyou starts. “Thank you for lunch!”
“No, thank you ,” Kenma says pointedly, leaning close and bumping their foreheads together. “For keeping me company.”
He hears Shouyou’s breath hitch in his ears, so close as if their very lungs were connected. He feels the warmth of Shouyou’s sigh on his lips, smells the spices of their lunch in the air. Shouyou’s hair tickles his temple.
He lifts his free hand up, cupping Shouyou’s cheek. He sees the surprise in his boyfriend’s eyes turn into understanding, not any less shocked.
Kenma suppresses a smile as he nudges Shouyou’s nose out of the way, angling their faces to align. Shouyou closes his eyes, tipping his head back willingly. Kenma catches a wistful sigh on Shouyou’s lips as he captures them with his own.
Shouyou’s lips are soft, glad and welcoming, but far less fervent and eager than Kenma expected them to be. Shouyou doesn’t chase after him when he pulls back for air, but heaves, surprise still lingering in the way he inhales, shallow breath caught in his throat. Kenma chuckles as he closes the gap between them again, closing his lips on Shouyou’s lower lip, nibbling on it.
Shouyou reaches up, circling his arms around Kenma’s neck – their doggy bag hitting Kenma’s back with the movement, soup sloshing around in thankfully careful packaging – and they giggle in their kiss.
“I was wondering,” Kenma says then, plastering his hands over the wide panes of Shouyou’s back. “Do you have to leave?”
“It’s you whose lunch break is over,” Shouyou reminds him. “I would be more than glad to stay longer.”
“Hn,” Kenma dips in, planting a quick peck on Shouyou’s lips. “I know.”
Shouyou whines in reply, wiggling in Kenma’s embrace. Kenma takes a long glance at his boyfriend’s face. He has known these features for over ten years. Watched them shine with glee and scrunch up with pain. Saw them mature… a bit. Cherished them, always.
But never has he seen Shouyou so red, so bright, so alive before now as he gazes back at him. Pupils blown wide, nostrils flared, lips shiny wet, Shouyou glows and sparkles with excitement.
Kenma wonders whether it would have been the same, kissing him after knowing him for a few months, or if it’s that ten years they spent together that makes it taste so good.
Good wine needs time, Kuro always says – in his own defense, of course, but maybe… just maybe, he is right.
Kenma suppresses a sigh, pulling Shouyou close and kiss him once more.
“Thank you,” he says, letting go.
“When do I see you next?” Shouyou asks.
“Do you have a match this weekend?”
“Hn.”
“Then,” Kenma smiles, “I will wait for you after it ends.”