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Kenma was ten when the topic of romance was first brought up between him and Kuroo.
It was after practice one day, when the two of them were walking home together. Kuroo had a volleyball wedged underneath his arm, and Kenma was padding quietly alongside him as he chattered away. He was listening, nodding at the right parts and chiming in with an opinion occasionally, as Kuroo talked about everything — his classes, volleyball, video games.
Kuroo suddenly cut himself off in the middle of a sentence about spiking. A bit startled, Kenma peeked at him from between the dark strands of his hair.
“Kenma, are there any girls you like?” Kuroo blurted, a pink tint coloring his cheeks.
Kenma blinked. Girls that he liked?
There weren’t any girls that he liked, he thought immediately. The list of things that he liked was short. He liked video games. He liked apple pie. He liked Kuroo. He sort of liked volleyball.
But romance was the sort of thing he heard the other boys at school talking about, while Kenma was busy hunched over his DS and battling dragon monsters. The other boys would whisper and point at the girls in their class, and talk about which was the prettiest, or the nicest, and occasionally, Kenma would pick up on a whisper or two that Oh, did you hear that this person and that person are dating?
Kenma wasn’t interested in those sorts of topics, considering he didn’t talk to girls, he barely talked to anyone outside of Kuroo, and he assumed that Kuroo was the same way.
“No.” He said simply.
Kuroo grinned. “Okay. Me neither.”
And then he’d launched right back into his babble about volleyball, picking up right where he had left off before. Kenma frowned at him for a few seconds, a bit puzzled, but Kuroo didn’t seem to notice, so he fell back into their dynamic shortly after.
They didn’t mention the topic of romance again until two weeks later, when Kuroo came skipping up to Kenma after school, holding the hand of a girl from his class. Kenma remembered that it had been a cloudy, miserable sort of day, and that he had been eager to get home, when he was abruptly faced with the sight in front of him. He recalled how he could only stare, bewildered, at the flowers clutched in the girl’s free hand. Was this…
Grinning sheepishly, Kuroo said, “Kenma, this is my girlfriend!”
His girlfriend, a mousy sort of girl with pink bows in her hair, chirped, “Hi, Kenma!”
“Hi...” Kenma mumbled, averting his eyes from her. He didn’t like the way that she was staring at him.
Seeing Kuroo hold hands with a girl was really weird. It made Kenma feel strange inside, like his insides were melting into mush. It was a childish form of jealousy, though at the time he hadn’t realized that that was its name.
“I’m gonna walk home with her today, is that okay?” Kuroo asked, a dopey smile plastered on his face.
Kenma supposed he didn’t have a choice but to accept, so he just nodded, very much aware of her watching him.
“Thanks, Kenma!” The girl told him, and with that, her and Kuroo went off in the opposite direction.
Kenma walked home alone that day, feeling very, very conflicted inside, and very, very lonely.
*
Kenma didn’t like Kuroo’s girlfriend.
She was nice enough, and Kenma supposed she was cute, in a conventional kind of way, but he still didn’t like her. Kuroo didn’t walk home with him anymore, and that would be fine if it was just the one thing, but he stopped coming over to Kenma’s house almost altogether too. Kuroo only seemed to ever talk about her, too, whenever he was with Kenma. It felt strange, like they weren’t really best friends anymore, Kenma having been replaced by some random girl who had suddenly waltzed herself right into Kuroo’s life.
And, like with other people, Kenma couldn’t seem to get his words out quite right around Kuroo’s girlfriend. He stumbled over them, never able to make eye contact, and he saw the annoyance in her eyes when he finally did sneak a glance in. Kuroo didn’t seem to notice, or if he did, he never seemed to care, but all it did was confirm the fact that Kenma wouldn’t be a welcome addition to their little pair.
But he didn’t say anything, because Kuroo always seemed to shine whenever he was around her. He didn’t say anything, because even though his stomach did a curious little flipping motion whenever he saw the two of them together, Kuroo seemed happy. Kenma wanted him to be happy, and besides, it wasn’t really his business if Kuroo dated or not.
He didn’t say anything, not until Kuroo came up to him one day after school, sulking.
Kenma had been surprised at first — Kuroo had spent the last few weeks walking home with his girlfriend. But then he noticed that Kuroo had an odd pinch to his mouth, lips pursed in an expression that almost, but not quite, resembled sadness. Something was wrong. Something that his girlfriend couldn’t help him with.
Neither of them spoke as they trudged along home, Kuroo dragging his feet awkwardly on the ground. Kenma snuck a couple glances at him, noting how the look on his face hadn’t once changed. He waited until they were right outside their houses to speak, trying to give Kuroo some space to think.
“Are you okay?” Kenma mumbled, right as Kuroo moved to open his front door.
With those words, Kuroo seemed to crumple, dropping to sit on his front doorstep and stare off into the distance as if he were in some dramatic film. Alarmed, Kenma quietly mirrored his movements, sitting down beside him.
“I broke up with my girlfriend.” Kuroo said.
Initially, a spark of joy flickered in Kenma’s stomach as he took in the news. Until he surveyed Kuroo’s expression, which somehow looked even worse than before, and then what could’ve been a raging fire inside his stomach was quickly put out.
“Why?” Kenma asked.
Kuroo sighed. “I didn’t really like her.” A pause, in which Kenma didn’t know what to feel. “I could tell that you didn’t like her, either.”
That part was a bit of a surprise. Kenma thought he’d hid his emotions pretty well, and besides, Kuroo had barely been around him the past two weeks.
“She never let me hang out with you,” Kuroo continued, fumbling over the words hang out. (That had been a recent addition to his vocabulary, a substitute for the words playing together or playdate.) “And I missed you, so I broke up with her.”
“Oh.”
Kenma didn’t know what to say in these sorts of situations. Inside of him, his feelings were muddled and hard to decipher, but they weren’t the kind that you could put into words. Even if he tried, he knew it would be a lost cause — he was always searching for the right words, and never finding them.
“You don’t have to say anything,” Kuroo said quietly, as if he’d read Kenma’s mind. “I just wanted to talk about it, is all.”
So Kenma didn’t say anything. Instead, he leaned into Kuroo’s side, just lightly, so that they were pressed up against each other. Kuroo liked this sort of thing, Kenma remembered. Casual touches that Kenma usually flinched away from, but didn’t mind when it was Kuroo he was dealing with. He supposed that Kuroo found it comforting, knowing that there was a physical human being beside him, another presence that reminded him he wasn’t alone with his thoughts.
“I don’t know why, but I’m sad.” Kuroo spoke again, a hint of annoyance in his tone. “I didn’t like her, and I missed you, but I’m still sad.”
Kenma watched as Kuroo scrunched his eyebrows together in frustration, struggling to put his thoughts into words, too.
“Or maybe not sad? Maybe I’m... Frustrated... Or something... I don’t know...”
Kenma’s hand brushed against Kuroo’s accidentally when Kuroo shifted a bit, knuckles knocking against each other. A wild thought sprung into Kenma’s mind.
“I think that... I was waiting for something to happen... For...” Kuroo let out another sigh.
This time, Kenma was the one who shifted, and when their hands touched, he reached out and grabbed onto Kuroo’s.
“For... A feeling.” Kuroo had gripped onto Kenma’s hand immediately, clutching it with a strange sort of ferocity. “But I think I only feel that feeling when I’m with you, Kenma.”
Kuroo’s palm was sticky with sweat against Kenma’s, and Kenma’s mind felt sticky too, with the way that Kuroo was talking. It was as if his words were burning themselves into his brain, and it made him feel almost queasy, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. He didn’t know what Kuroo was referring to, but at the same time, he understood completely.
Sitting on the top of Kuroo’s doorsteps, the two ten year old boys gazed out ahead of them, holding hands quietly. And, as children do, both tried to sort through the new feelings that were just beginning to swirl through the air.
*
It wasn’t long after that that Kenma discovered that it was possible for two boys to be in a relationship.
He had been watching television while waiting for Kuroo to come over. All of his video games had already been beaten, so Kenma had been bored, flipping through the channels while waiting for the clock to tick closer to 1 PM. He stopped on one show, a sitcom of sorts, that he sometimes saw his parents watching. They laughed a lot when they watched it, he remembered, so maybe it would be funny enough to kill time until Kuroo arrived.
Kenma just about dropped his remote when, not even two minutes in, the screen displayed two male characters kissing.
It took him about two seconds to process what was going on over the sudden, deafening pounding of his heart. Gaping at the screen, he registered the laugh track playing over the speakers as the two men detached themselves from each other. So the show was making fun of them, then.
It didn’t do anything to quell the sensation of blood roaring in his ears, because it didn’t matter if the two men in a relationship were getting made of, what mattered was that meant it was possible. Kenma wasn’t sure why that meant so much to him in that moment, but it did.
Kuroo chose that moment to arrive, kicking Kenma’s door open with a bang, who flinched. Kuroo was holding a volleyball, grinning at him from underneath his bangs, which were especially messy today. Kenma just stared at him, a sudden lump in his throat, not at all unlike when he clammed up in front of strangers or classmates.
“Kuro,” He bit out.
Kuroo’s smile slipped from his face. “Yeah?”
Kenma flicked his eyes towards the television. The characters from before weren’t even on screen anymore, the scene having changed to something else completely.
“Did you know that boys can kiss each other?” He asked quietly.
“What?”
“I saw it on TV just now,” Kenma motioned to the screen in front of him.
“Oh,” Kuroo said, shifting the volleyball he was holding from one hand to the other. “I mean, I knew that already.”
Kenma, surprised, responded, “You did?”
“Well, yeah,” Kuroo sounded very matter-of-fact. “My mom says that there are boys who kiss each other, and who date each other, too.”
Kenma just stared, wide-eyed.
“She says it’s wrong, though, and that it’s weird...” Kuroo trailed off.
Wrong? Kenma supposed that maybe it was weird to people who had never heard of it, but to call it wrong...
“Do you think it’s wrong?” Kenma asked softly.
Kuroo scrunched up his face. “No. I don’t know why she said that. Sometimes… I think I might like boys that way.”
Oh.
A brief memory of sticky fingers intertwined together on a sunny evening flashed in Kenma’s mind. His heart fluttered.
“Me too.”
Kuroo shrugged. “It doesn’t really matter, though. Wanna play?” He held up his volleyball.
Kenma, a bit relieved that the atmosphere that seemed oddly heavy was fading, nodded and slid off of his bed. Together, the two of them exited Kenma’s room and left the house, neither of them mentioning the conversation from earlier.
*
In the years that followed, the feelings and thoughts festering inside of Kenma blossomed into an emotion with a definitive name.
*
The weather was beautiful on the day of Kuroo’s graduation.
There wasn’t a cloud in the sky, and the sun shone down kindly on the world below. A gentle breeze ruffled Kenma’s hair as he walked with Kuroo into school, what would be Kuroo’s last time in the building. Kuroo had been uncharacteristically quiet the entire train ride there, often fiddling with the sleeves of his uniform, but Kenma understood. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t lost some sleep over this himself.
It wasn’t a secret that he would miss Kuroo. It also wasn’t a secret that Kuroo would miss Kenma. Though neither of them had said it, they had each other read so well that they didn’t need to. Kuroo and Kenma, they fit together like two pieces of a puzzle, knowing each other inside out.
What would happen when that puzzle got broken apart?
Contrary to popular belief, Kenma knew he’d be fine without Kuroo. Perhaps in the past, Kuroo had tugged Kenma along a bit further, but that was in the past. He’d changed since then, and besides, people often didn’t think about how Kenma pulled Kuroo along just as often as Kuroo did Kenma.
They’d be fine. They’d be okay. They’d survive. Kenma knew that, and he knew that Kuroo knew it, too. Knowing that didn’t ease the ache in Kenma’s chest when he thought of mornings, lunches, volleyball practices, weekends without Kuroo.
“You okay there, Kenma?” Kuroo said.
Kenma looked over at Kuroo, who was playing with one of the buttons on his shirt anxiously.
“Shouldn’t I be the one asking you that?” Kenma mumbled in response, dragging his gaze away from Kuroo to eye a bird perched on the branch of a tree.
Kuroo hummed. “Maybe.”
He paused.
“Don’t worry, though. I guess I’m just feeling... Nostalgic.”
The bird launched itself into the air, flapping its wings loudly, and Kenma followed it with his eyes until it disappeared from sight.
“Yeah,” He replied. “Me too.”
Kuroo gave him a crooked grin. He nudged Kenma with his elbow, the point of contact charged with electricity that neither of them had yet to acknowledge.
“Aw, you’re gonna miss me, huh?” He asked, eyes playful. Kenma didn’t miss the genuine question in them.
Kenma shrugged. “Why wouldn’t I?”
As they approached the front doors, silence settled over them again, both lost in their own thoughts. Kuroo pulled the door open for Kenma, who stepped in first.
Inside, it was a bit disorderly. The place was covered in banners and posters, draped over nearly every window and wall, so much so that it took him a few seconds to recognize the place. Students, graduates, and parents alike were all milling about, rushing back and forth to take pictures and get to where they were supposed to be. If it was like this before the ceremony, Kenma couldn’t imagine what it would be like afterwards.
Glancing over his shoulder, Kenma saw that Kuroo was still hovering in the doorway, a wistful look on his face. He seemed to be scanning the hallways carefully, as if to memorize every inch of the place before he left.
Kenma nudged him gently.
“Kuro,” He said. “You have to go get ready.” He gestured in front of him, where a group of third years were scurrying towards the auditorium frantically.
Kuroo shot Kenma a tiny grin, one that was a bit nervous.
“Yeah, I know. I’m just... I’m gonna miss this place.”
Kenma rolled his eyes, but he did so fondly. “You’re such a sap.”
“Hey, don’t pretend like you won’t be thinking this exact thing a year from today!”
He was right, of course. Kuroo’s graduation was already a plateful for him to handle, he didn’t even want to think about his own. That raised too many questions about too many things, most of which involved his hesitant future.
“That doesn’t mean I’m going to say it out loud, though.” He mumbled.
“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo shot him another smile, this one more confident than the last. More normal. “I’m gonna head over to the auditorium, though.”
Kenma nodded, and Kuroo touched his shoulder briefly, before walking off. Kenma watched for a few seconds, as Kuroo met up with Yaku and Kai, and the three of them scuttled off together. Wistfulness of his own squeezed in Kenma’s stomach, and he stood there for a while, similar to how Kuroo had, just soaking it all in. The last moments of the day before Kuroo graduated. The last moments before Kenma would have to start thinking about graduation himself.
Pulling himself out of his stupor, he made his way to the audience section of the auditorium. He chose a seat next to the other members of the team, all of whom looked both excited and sorrowful at the same time. Few words were exchanged between any of them, all wrapped up in the emotions of such an important event.
The minutes dragged by slowly before the ceremony began, and Kenma’s fingers twitched instinctively for his game consoles. But even if his body itched to whip out his phone and open a fighting app, his heart wouldn’t be in it. In any other circumstance, he would already be reaching into his pocket, but not now.
The ceremony started. Kenma leaned forward in his seat as the curtains to the stage opened, and he scanned the group of people on it. His breath hitched in his throat when he found Kuroo, seated in one of the front rows. He was looking straight ahead, but seconds after Kenma found him, Kuroo shifted his gaze and caught Kenma’s.
Kenma gave him a small smile, and Kuroo’s eyes twinkled, though his expression didn’t change.
The process itself was pretty long and drawn-out. Teacher after teacher gave speeches, students at the top of the class who Kenma didn’t know gave speeches, the principal made one as well. Kenma didn’t pay attention to much of it. However, his mind was quiet, not buzzing with intensity like it had been before.
After nearly an hour of formalities, they began calling graduates up one by one to receive their diplomas. Kenma wasn’t interested in the people that he didn’t know, impatiently curling his hands into fists as he waited for Kuroo to cross the stage.
When he finally did, Kenma felt a tug at his chest. Kuroo stood up confidently when his name was called, strode across the floor with perfect posture, and accepted his diploma immediately. His handshake with the principal was firm and quick, and there was a dazzling grin on his face. Despite his delinquent-looking haircut, he looked professional. Grown up. Confident. Handsome.
A sharp pang of want shot through Kenma as he looked up at Kuroo, standing so many feet ahead from him, looking so unattainable and far away. He wanted Kuroo. When did he not want Kuroo?
Out of the corner of his eye, Kenma caught Lev looking at him curiously. He prayed that his emotions weren’t written all over his face, because sometimes they slipped, especially when it came to Kuroo.
Kuroo was walking back to his seat on stage, head held high, and the want inside of Kenma crackled and burned for the rest of the ceremony, distracting him while watching Yaku and Kai receive their diplomas.
As soon as the ceremony drew to a close, chaos descended upon the auditorium, gaggles of parents and teachers swarming the graduates on stage within the span of mere minutes. Kenma hung back from it all, even as his other teammates rushed forward, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sheer amount of people.
He caught a glimpse of Kuroo standing next to his parents, a pair of third-year girls giggling next to him. Kenma felt a twinge of something at that, not failing to notice the flirtatious hand that one of the girls had wrapped around Kuroo’s arm. Kuroo didn’t seem to mind, continuing to grin as his parents snapped pictures.
They’re about to graduate and go to different universities, why are they flirting? Kenma thought, somewhat bitterly.
He shuffled out of the room then, not particularly feeling the desire to watch the girls continue to poke and prod at Kuroo. Kenma didn’t think that Kuroo would flirt back necessarily, but still. It was uncomfortable to watch.
Not that Kenma was much better than those girls, he mused, as he followed the steady stream of people out of the auditorium and into the main lobby. It wasn’t like he didn’t also have feelings for Kuroo, feelings that he wanted to act upon, but found a bit pointless this late in the game. Working his way through the people milling about in the lobby, Kenma slipped past the large crowds and through the front doors.
Quietly, he walked his way over to the gyms, where there was nobody else to bother him. He didn’t go inside of them, rather, he sat on the same steps he’d sat on over a year ago, when Kuroo had told him not to quit volleyball. Volleyball. One of the things that pulled them together. Drawing his legs up to his chest, he tucked his chin into his knees.
It was much quieter out here, without all of the festivities going on. The only sounds that could be heard was the wind blowing gently, and the slow chirping of bugs. It was a good place to breathe, a good place to relax, a good place to think.
His mind turned, once again, towards Kuroo.
He didn’t want Kuroo to leave. It was as simple as that. Even when he disregarded the romantic feelings he felt, he didn’t want to lose his best friend, the one he’d always grown up with. It had always been Kuroo and Kenma, Kenma and Kuroo, but now it would only be Kenma.
They’d keep in touch, Kenma knew that. Their friendship meant too much to the both of them that they’d still talk to one another. But talking over the phone wasn’t the same, only seeing each other in person every few months wasn’t the same, coming home everyday without Kuroo beside him wasn’t the same. Kenma could no longer walk up to Kuroo’s door and let himself in whenever he had a problem, or whenever he wanted someone to talk to. Instead, he’d have to shoot Kuroo a text, one that might not be responded to for hours, and then he’d have to wait until he received an answer.
It was almost as if he missed Kuroo already, although they still had several weeks together.
And then there was the issue of Kenma’s feelings for Kuroo. They were most likely requited, he knew that. He’d figured that out a few years ago, not foreign at all to Kuroo’s behavior around those he liked. When they hugged, Kuroo’s heart slammed next to Kenma’s when they were pressed chest to chest. He caught Kuroo’s eyes lingering on him at seemingly random times. After brushing their hands together accidentally, he heard the sharp intake of breath that escaped Kuroo’s mouth. It was the small things like those, that nobody else would notice, but that Kenma had been hyperaware of ever since discovering his own feelings. Not to mention the hidden messages that their touches seemed to hold — something that went beyond just comfort. Something eerily similar to the want that Kenma had experienced earlier, gazing up at Kuroo on that stage.
In every universe, it seemed as if they were meant to be, as if it could all work out. But at the same time, in what universe could they work? Kenma had always been painfully aware of the fact that Kuroo was one step ahead of Kenma in the grand aspect of life, and that simply couldn’t be helped. By the time his feelings had reached their peak, the point where they were at now, Kenma had known. Kuroo was going to leave, and they would walk their separate ways, and so he’d kept quiet.
Yet it was getting harder and harder to resist the urge to reach out for Kuroo’s hand when they were alone, to lean over and brush that annoying bedhead out of his eyes. The emotions inside of Kenma, though he concealed them well, seemed to be bursting at the seams, threatening to spill over and out of his lips. The fact that Kuroo was graduating seemed to only intensify this, to prod at the back of Kenma’s mind even more frequently than usual. Briefly, he wondered if Kuroo had noticed.
Kenma’s answer arrived minutes later, when footsteps pounding against the concrete interrupted his moment of introspection. He knew who it was before even looking up.
“Kenma!” Kuroo called cheerfully.
He was half-running, half-walking over, wind ruffling his hair. With his fingers, he was casually flipping something small over and over. Kenma thought it might be a coin, but he wasn’t sure, because as Kuroo approached, he slipped it inside the pocket of his blazer.
Clutched in one of Kuroo’s hands was his diploma, and he held it up proudly for Kenma to see.
“Can you believe I did it?”
“Nobody thought that you wouldn’t,” Kenma remarked quietly.
It was true. With Kuroo’s smarts, it was hard to not imagine him going to a good university, much less having trouble graduating high school.
Kuroo grinned, sitting down next to Kenma. Their thighs brushed against each other, and Kenma felt it, the something he had mentioned before. Kenma momentarily considered asking Kuroo how he’d known that he was going to be here, but dismissed the thought. It had probably been painfully obvious to Kuroo.
Kuroo spoke up again. “Take care of the team next year.”
“Mm.”
“You’ll keep playing, won’t you?”
He would. He didn’t only play volleyball for Kuroo anymore. The entire team, to his reluctance, had become his friends. And besides, with the help of a certain energetic, orange-haired friend, he’d learned to have fun playing.
“I will.” He said.
Kuroo hummed.
Next to Kenma, Kuroo shifted a bit. He was digging into his pocket. Kenma watched him carefully, the fabric of his blazer bunching up as his fingers twisted around inside of it. When Kuroo had gotten ahold of whatever was inside of his pocket, he pulled his hand out with a satisfied expression on his face. He flipped the object in his hand in the air, and once again, Kenma thought it was a coin.
That is, until Kuroo said, “Hold out your hand.”
Kenma looked at him, a bit suspiciously. “...Why?”
“Just do it.”
Kenma complied, not really in the mood to argue on a day like this.
Gently, still covering the maybe-coin with his hand, he placed it in Kenma’s hand. It was circular, but it wasn’t metal, and it didn’t have the rough edges of a coin. Kuroo pulled his hand away slowly.
Kenma looked down, and his mouth immediately went dry.
It was a button.
Specifically, it was a button from the Nekoma school uniform. Heart suddenly quickening, Kenma looked up, and noticed that the second button on Kuroo’s blazer was missing.
Oh.
Kuroo wasn’t looking at Kenma, instead staring off into the distance, looking stoic and lost in thought, but Kenma knew better. The tight clench of fists by his side and the slightly downwards quirk of his mouth betrayed his emotions: he was anxious. He was anxious, because he’d just given Kenma his second button on his graduation day, as if he were a living cliché.
The implications of what the action meant were clear. Kenma’s earlier suspicions were confirmed, there was nothing clearer about his feelings being requited than this, but it still made his head feel dizzy and his heart pound.
“Kuro,” He said. “Are we in a cliché romance anime or something?”
Kuroo let out a barking laugh, one that was riddled with nerves. “Hey, you know that I’m a big sap.”
“That’s true.”
Holding it in his hands, physical proof that Kuroo returned his feelings, Kenma felt his chest tighten. There would be problems, he had to remember, there would be problems with this if they continued...
“You’re moving away soon.” Kenma said bluntly, rubbing the button with the pad of his thumb.
He felt Kuroo’s eyes on him as he continued to play with the button, turning it over in the palm of his hands. After a short silence, in which Kenma could practically feel the tension hanging in the air, Kuroo replied, “Yeah...”
Kenma swallowed. He knew that Kuroo could tell he was nervous too, even though he was controlling his facial expressions.
“So, Kuro, we can’t really...” Kenma trailed off, not really sure how to put it into words.
“We can’t really what?”
Kenma curled one of his hands into his jacket anxiously.
“We can’t really... Date... Or whatever it is you want to do.” He spat out.
Kuroo was quick to respond.
“You think I haven’t thought about that?”
And the desperateness ringing out in his voice made all of the stubbornness in Kenma seem to drain away. He could see it in Kuroo’s eyes, the longing. Kenma didn’t want to be the cause of that, he didn’t want to hurt him, not when Kuroo had done so much for him in the past.
“Kenma, I...” Kuroo continued. “I know that I’m moving away. But I’ve finally, after all these years, worked up the courage to tell you.”
Kenma continued fiddling with the button absentmindedly. He’d kept quiet himself for so many years, but he hadn’t thought that Kuroo would ever outright explicitly state his feelings. They’d danced around it for years, Kenma had almost assumed that Kuroo didn’t want to talk about it.
“Don’t you think it’s better late than never?” Kuroo sounded so small when he said that.
That one question was all it took for Kenma to change his mind.
It wasn’t as if all of the rational, logical thoughts from before didn’t matter. No, Kenma would probably always be worried about how they were going to make this work in the future. But he supposed that during his past thoughts about all of this, he hadn’t actually experienced a confession from Kuroo. Seeing and hearing the way that Kuroo wanted Kenma just as much as Kenma wanted Kuroo, that Kuroo wanted them to continue being Kenma and Kuroo, only more... It made Kenma want to say goodbye to logic.
“How would we make it work?” He managed to get out, over the racing of his heart.
“Long distance relationships exist.”
“They’re hard.”
“They’re hard,” Kuroo said. “but plenty of people deal with them.”
He had a point. And deep down, Kenma knew that if anyone could make it work, they could. Perhaps he just wished it would be easier.
“Okay.” Kenma said simply.
Kuroo understood. Kuroo understood that Kenma was agreeing, because he shot him a blinding smile, and Kenma got the irresistible urge to lean over and do something that he’d always wanted to do.
“Kuro,” He said breathily.
Kuroo’s smile faltered the tiniest bit when he saw that Kenma’s eyes were tracing the corners of his lips.
“Yeah?”
“Can I...” Kenma felt his cheeks heat up, and he almost wanted to avert his eyes. This was kind of embarrassing.
Kuroo cut him off. “Yeah.”
Of course. Of course Kuroo knew what he was going to say beforehand.
Kenma leaned in. He wasn’t nervous, because it was Kuroo, and he knew that Kuroo had never kissed anybody either, but his pulse was racing anyways. Maybe it was the excitement, he thought, or the yearning. Because he quickly picked up the fact that the closer he got to Kuroo, the more that the desperate want inside of his heart intensified.
Kuroo matched him perfectly, sliding his hand up behind Kenma’s head. The look in his eyes was one that was full of love — it wasn’t merely infatuation, it wasn’t your average teenage crush on a classmate. No, this was love, though neither of them said it. Neither of them needed to.
Kenma had imagined kissing Kuroo before. But imagination had nothing on the real thing.
Kuroo’s lips were soft, and every point of contact between their bodies felt hot, Kenma’s heart set ablaze. He’d thought it would be awkward, since first kisses tended to be, but it wasn’t. Their mouths had fit perfectly together from the start, Kuroo tasting like the cheap cake served at the graduation ceremony.
Kissing was just another thing that brought the two of them together. Kuroo and Kenma, Kenma and Kuroo, they could make it work.
*
Kuroo’s university wasn’t too far away, but Kenma found it a bit painful anyways. Evidently, Kuroo did too, if the ridiculous amount of daily text messages he sent Kenma were anything to go by. They were always random, never any rhyme or reason to them, and of almost anything. Complaints about a class, a picture of the cup of coffee he’d bought that morning, a description of an anecdote involving of his new university friends. Kenma responded to every single one, although he didn’t necessarily send Kuroo much of his own.
They called over Skype every week, too, a routine established almost immediately. It wasn’t the same as talking in person, but seeing Kuroo’s face all grainy and pixelated on a screen was better than not seeing his face at all. And that was in between all of the regular, voice-only phone calls that also occurred.
They kept each other updated; Kuroo asked Kenma about the team a lot, and about how he was doing in school, and Kenma asked Kuroo about his new college life. Their relationship, though only virtual, was exactly the same. They worked in tandem, just like they did before, and if at night Kenma felt his heart ache, he tried his best to ignore it. What mattered was that they were together, that they were, for the most part, happy.
Kuroo was visiting this weekend. To be specific, he was due to arrive in town today, in a few hours. He would be staying at his parents’ house, but he’d made it very clear that he’d be pestering the shit out of Kenma. Not that Kenma minded.
Though he doubted he would admit it in front of Kuroo, Kenma was eager for him to arrive. He’d missed him, though he’d been fine without him.
It wasn’t so much that they were two parts of one whole, he had come to learn. Comparing themselves to two pieces of a puzzle was inaccurate. Yes, they fit together perfectly, but they could function just fine on their own. It was more like when they were together, everything just felt a little more right.
Kenma’s phone vibrated on his nightstand, and he reached over for it.
From: shouyou
good morning kenma!!! any plans for today?
Kenma tapped away at his keyboard.
To: shouyou
kuro’s visiting from university today.
From: shouyou
oooooh!!! are you excited?!?!!!
Shouyou was one of the few people Kenma had told about his relationship with Kuroo. A couple members of the team knew, because Kuroo had apparently been very overexcited shortly after their kiss on graduation day, but it wasn’t a widely known fact. Bokuto probably knew, too, and he’d probably told half of his entire contacts list, but Kenma hadn’t heard too much from people, so it was okay. It was better that way, with how private Kenma was.
To: shouyou
yeah
From: shouyou
!!!! tell me how it goes!!!!
To: shouyou
will do
Throwing his phone on his bed, Kenma leaned his head back against the pillow. In a few hours, Kuroo was going to visit, and things would feel a bit more exciting again. He curled his feet into his bedsheets with satisfaction, thinking about how nice it would be to see Kuroo’s face in person.
It’d be nice to kiss him too, Kenma supposed, cheeks turning red at the mere thought of it. They had only kissed once after Kuroo’s graduation day, and that had been on the night before Kuroo had left. Kuroo had been so busy with preparing for university after graduation that they had barely had time to hang out, though at the time it hadn’t seemed so bad. However, not even a day after Kuroo left had Kenma wanting to go back in time and give Kuroo a dozen more kisses.
Wow, that was an embarrassing thought.
Throwing off his blankets, he rubbed at his eyes before standing up to change out of his pajamas. Rather than fantasizing about what would happen later today, it was more useful to actually get ready for it.
The hours passed by surprisingly fast. After Kenma had gotten changed, he’d sat and played video games without taking any breaks, until he heard the doorbell ring. A bit startled, he accidentally messed up, and got decimated by the enemy on screen. Shutting off his game console with a scowl, he made his way to the door, nerves starting to tingle with excitement.
Kuroo looked the same as he always had.
As soon as Kenma had swung the door open, this had been made evident. Kuroo was wearing clothes that were actually pretty fashionable for once, rather than a raggedy T-shirt and jeans, and Kenma raised an eyebrow at the get-up. Kuroo definitely looked overdressed next to Kenma in his hoodie and sweatpants, but he supposed that didn’t really matter, because Kuroo still looked the same as he always had. His clothing was different, but his smile was exactly as bright as it had always been, and so was the gleam in his eyes, and Kenma was swept into a bone-crushing hug almost immediately.
“Ow,” Kenma muttered, face smushed against Kuroo’s chest. He wrapped his arms around Kuroo, though. Heart pounding violently, he noted how refreshing it felt to hold Kuroo like this, after weeks of not being able to reach out and touch him.
Pulling away lightly, Kenma surveyed Kuroo one more time, before stepping aside to let Kuroo in.
As Kuroo kicked off his shoes and closed the door, Kenma asked, “What’s with the outfit?”
“What, no ‘Kuro, I’m so happy to see you’?” Kuroo followed Kenma as they went up to his room.
Settling on his bed, Kenma shot him a scowl. “Why would I say the things that you already know?”
Kuroo mockingly clutched at his chest, hand over his heart. “Ah, so you did miss me! Don’t worry, I missed you, too!”
Kenma rolled his eyes. Kuroo didn’t have to say those things for him to know it. Kuroo flopped onto Kenma’s bed with a contented sigh.
“Anyways,” Kuroo continued. “One of my university friends said that I should dress up if I’m going to see my boyfriend. What do you think?”
He had that devilish grin on his face as he spread his arms out to give Kenma a full view of the outfit. Kenma, feeling his cheeks flush at the word boyfriend, just waved him off.
“You look weird.”
“What?! I thought it looked nice!”
“It doesn’t look bad, just weird.” Kenma shrugged. “Fits with your hairstyle.”
He booted up his game on the television while Kuroo spluttered out some protests. A feeling of comfort spread out across the two of them, and Kenma’s heart may or may not have done a somersault or two when he held out a controller to Kuroo, their fingers brushing.
They settled back into their old routine easily. It was comforting, sitting on his bed and playing video games together, and all too easy to sink back into the feelings of their old high school days. It felt as if not a day had passed after Kuroo’s graduation.
They didn’t need to catch up on anything, having kept closely in touch the entire time. It was enough to simply soak in their energy, in their dynamic, and Kenma relished in it. Hearing and seeing Kuroo in person could not even begin to compare to seeing him only across a computer screen.
Eventually, Kuroo got bored of playing video games, and he fell back against Kenma’s bed after a particularly grueling round. Under normal circumstances, Kenma would have continued without him, too immersed to care about playing with a partner, but these were not normal circumstances. Without even realizing it, he’d set down his controller as well, and lay down next to Kuroo.
“You’re not gonna keep playing?” Kuroo drawled.
Kenma hummed, eyes scanning his ceiling. His arms were pressed against Kuroo’s.
He didn’t flinch or feel surprised when Kuroo reached over and brushed a strand of hair out of Kenma’s eyes delicately. Kuroo’s fingers were warm against his forehead, and Kenma felt the sudden urge to curl into Kuroo’s side.
His hand lingered against Kenma’s face in the silence, sparking with that familiar electricity that Kenma had missed. He wanted more of it.
Rolling over to face Kuroo, he felt a small smile spread across his cheeks. Kuroo’s hand fell away, and moved to settle on Kenma’s waist, a bit hesitantly. Kenma responded by shuffling closer, and Kuroo grinned back at him.
Kenma buried his face in Kuroo’s neck, chest filled with warmth and skin sizzling in the best way possible.
“Kuro,” He said quietly.
Kuroo ran a hand through Kenma’s hair, and Kenma’s heart swelled.
“Yeah?”
“...I missed you.”
Kuroo let out a pained noise, and Kenma frowned. Pulling away slightly, he grimaced when he saw the disgustingly over-exaggerated lovestruck look on Kuroo’s face.
“I missed you too, Kenma.” And even though his expression was clearly dramaticized for the purpose of annoying Kenma, Kenma knew that the overly sappy tone of his voice wasn’t forced at all.
Kenma leaned up then, unable to help himself. Kuroo’s eyes widened a bit, but then he leaned in too, and then they were kissing.
It was slow, and it was sweet, and Kenma really couldn’t tell, in that moment, how he had gone weeks without this. Curling his fingers in the fabric of Kuroo’s jacket, Kenma pulled him closer. Kuroo let out a happy little noise with the back of his throat, and Kenma smiled against his lips.
After pulling away, Kuroo stared at Kenma for approximately three seconds, lips red, before leaning down and peppering Kenma’s face with kisses. He kissed his cheeks, his nose, his chin, his temples, and Kenma felt like there were flowers blooming inside of his chest with every kiss.
“Kuro...” He mumbled, cheeks hot and heart yearning. “Kuro...” He tugged on Kuroo’s sleeve, attempting to direct Kuroo back down to Kenma’s lips.
Kuroo placed another kiss in the middle of Kenma’s forehead, and then pressed their lips together once again. Kenma felt syrupy sweet inside, like he could live the rest of his life doing this, just kissing Kuroo, just doing what felt right. Because kissing him felt right, just like how being in Kuroo’s presence felt right.
When the two of them had separated, still close together, Kenma was struck with a sudden, distant memory.
“Do you remember that girlfriend that you used to have?”
Kuroo blinked at him. “What, when we were like ten? That’s the only one I can recall.”
“Yeah, her.”
“Well... Yeah, I remember her.”
Kenma swallowed. “Do you remember what you said when you two broke up?”
Kuroo stared at him for a few seconds, looking puzzled.
“We were sitting on the steps of your house after school...” Kenma added.
Kenma watched as realization dawned on Kuroo’s face.
“Oh... You mean... The thing about how I only ever had feelings for you?”
“I don’t think that’s what you said...”
“I doubt those were my exact words. But that’s what I meant.”
Kenma flushed. They were dating now, but would what he was about to say be too much?
“Kuro, that’s... That’s how I always felt about you, too.” He mumbled, feeling a blush creep up his neck.
Kuroo’s eyes turned all gooey again, and Kenma flushed even harder.
”Kenma,” Kuroo said, and he said it so softly that Kenma’s heart squeezed. “You are actually so cute.”
Kenma rolled his eyes, but he let Kuroo give him a brief kiss anyways.
“Anddd you totally think my outfit works.”
“I do not.”
“Do too.”
“Do not.”
Kuroo and Kenma, Kenma and Kuroo, they would always find a way to make it work.