Chapter Text
Small flecks of rain sprinkled themselves on the screen of Kenma’s PSP, each droplet surrounded by slight condensation from the crisp morning air. He wiped the sleeve of his jacket across the screen, annoyed, but only succeeded on smearing the droplets further. Kenma looked up, suddenly realizing he’d been standing on the same street corner for at least three cycles of the traffic lights. He reluctantly paused his game and put it in his red hoodie’s front pocket, as the walk sign turned back to red. He sighed quietly, wondering why his habits must keep him out in the chilly rain longer than necessary.
Finally looking properly at his surroundings, he wrinkled his nose slightly at the small droplets of water that were peppering the streets and sidewalk with dark spots. The few trees around were shedding their pink petals, which drifted down and gathered in the gutters. A few people were waiting impatiently at the corner where Kenma stood, insistent on getting to wherever they were headed - probably work. The people who had just finished crossing the street were already long gone, speeding off to their destinations… except for one.
A rickety old man had failed to finish crossing the street on time, barely dragging himself along with his cane. His wispy hair was still decently dark, but receded a good amount from his forehead. His goatee and mustache were well trimmed, whiter at the tips than the roots. He wore a bright red Hawaiian shirt with white flowers, which looked almost comical on his small frame.
Without warning, the elder stumbled heavily, causing his cane to clatter to the ground, and the man to follow suit. two spots of light flashed suddenly as a car turned onto the street, headed towards the crosswalk at an uncomfortably fast speed.
Suddenly overpowered with an urge he could not explain, Kenma leapt into the street, quickly taking in his surroundings. He kicked the cane so it rolls towards the curb, reaching down for the man as the shadows grew sharp from the oncoming headlights. Kenma distantly heard a shout from one of the people on the sidewalk, but couldn’t discern what they said. The car’s brakes screeched as Kenma pushed the elder out of harm’s way, as gently as he could manage in such a situation. As adrenaline spiked through his heart, he lunged forward, just managing to escape collision. He watched the car scream by, in what felt like some weird kind of slow motion, before dropping to his knees, overwhelmed by all the stimulus as people start shouting in worry and in joy across the street.
After what felt like at least a few minutes, Kenma felt a gentle touch on his left shoulder. He turned to see the elderly man, who’s giving him a warm smile.
"Thank you, young one.”
Kenma only managed a small “’s nothing,” as he stood up and gently brushed himself off, more for comfort than anything. “Um.. are you all right, sir?” The man smiled.
“Couldn’t be better. You saved my life.”
“Oh… uh, yeah…”
The man gave his arm a quick pat, as he was only up to Kenma’s elbow when he stood at full height. He handed Kenma his school bag.
“Hurry, you don’t want to miss your first day of the school year now, do you?”
Kenma jolted, remembering where he had been headed, and wished the man well as he started to speedwalk down the street. He was gonna be late for sure, and he didn’t think that saving a man from a car accident would really be a believable excuse, at least coming from him - he wasn’t really known as the heroic type.
The drizzle had upgraded to a downpour by the time Kenma made his way through the front doors of the school building. During the last leg of the journey he’d broken into a run in an effort to escape the onslaught of water, which thankfully gave him a few minutes to spare before the morning bell, even if he got soaked nonetheless. This did little to cheer him up, however, as he now had an unpleasant case of the chills. Shivering, he took a look around, sizing up the new roster of students.
He saw plenty of familiar faces - the small but commanding Yaku chatting with Yamamoto, a man who worked harder than he really needed to; it didn’t take long to see the zebra striped hair of Bokuto, who dashed by at breakneck speed - whether in excitement or in haste to get to class in time, was lost to Kenma. He hadn’t the time to see the expression on his face.
There were, as expected, a decent amount of shy, bright-eyed first years, excited yet terrified to be in high school for the first time. Kenma noticed a lot of them appeared to be unusually tall - he hoped they were gentle giants, and would leave him alone. An altercation already beginning between a tall, angry looking one and a small redhead instantly made Kenma’s hopes begin to waver, but he decided not to worry about it much and headed quickly to his first class.
Kenma’s morning went about as boring as he expected, and he was grateful when lunchtime finally approached, if only because he would get to play his game some more. Strategizing complex fights against demon kings were way more interesting than trying to find the value of x. He started to wander around, looking for a nice empty table when the unthinkable happened - someone called out his name. He froze for a second, then turned around in quiet surprise.
It was Bokuto who called him, which alarmed Kenma, because they’d only spoken a few times before; granted that was more words than most had exchanged with him but he would hardly consider it reason enough to yell at him in the middle of the bustling cafeteria.
“HEY KENMA, COME HERE, I THINK I FOUND A FRIEND OF YOURS? I DIDN’T KNOW YOU HAD ANY!” Bokuto opened his mouth to add more, only for the person next to him to clap a hand over it.
Kenma blinked a couple times, then timidly took a few steps towards Bokuto and this supposed “friend” of his, and realized Bokuto wasn’t actually entirely wrong. The young man sitting next to the bouncy third year was, in fact, the one true friend Kenma had ever had; but he hadn’t seen him in years.
After all this time, Kenma still recognized him instantly - that disastrous mop of hair could only belong to his childhood bestie, Kuroo Tetsurou. He shot a lopsided grin over at Kenma, waving. Kenma stared for a second in surprise, then offered a small smile back, hand barely raising in a wave.
Kenma had met Kuroo once when he got lost on his way home from elementary school, and the two had ended up talking for barely fifteen minutes before Kuroo’s parents found him and took him home, delivering Kenma back to his neighborhood as well. That fifteen minutes was enough for a friendship to start, Kuroo often meeting Kenma to play in the park by themselves for a few hours. After about six months, however, Kuroo had suddenly stopped coming to see him, and Kenma never found out why.
Kuroo came from a wealthy and renowned family - his father was a top tier fashion designer, and recently Kuroo himself would model his dad’s top designs (Kenma may or may not have purchased a few of the magazines he was featured in.) He assumed that due to the fame, Kuroo had found better things to do than hang around with someone like him, or perhaps it had something to do with the mysterious disappearance of Kuroo’s mother, which had happened around the same time. Either way, Kenma had remained friendless to this day, and he was decently content with it, even though it did make him feel lonely sometimes…
As Kenma started to make his way over to reconnect with his long lost friend, a shout rabg from the crowd of students.
“HEY, IS THAT KUROO TETSUROU?”
People immediately began to crowd towards Bokuto and Kuroo, who got up and bolted, abandoning their food in favor of freedom from the masses. After a moment Kenma hurried the other way, keen to avoid being shunted around by a dozen strangers. He finished his lunch at the foot of a staircase, playing his game as usual. Kenma found it unusually difficult to concentrate on it, however, his mind wandering to the brief interaction he’d had earlier. It felt like he’d torn a scab off a wound that never healed. He knew it probably wasn’t Kuroo’s fault, and that he shouldn’t be so bothered by it, but part of him couldn’t help feeling that he at least had deserved a warning, or an explanation. He hoped he would get one soon, though he doubted he’d get much of a chance to chat unless he was willing to have the whole thing witnessed by half the school.
Afternoon classes proved as dreary as the morning ones, but at least he wasn’t cold and wet anymore. Unfortunately the rain was still coming down in buckets as the last bell rang and the students packed their things, and Kenma stood out under an overhang, wrinkling his nose at the prospect of traveling without any form of protection. He decided to try and sit it out, plopping down on the front steps and pulling out his PSP once more. The rain insistently fell, level after level, and Kenma knew his mother would be starting to worry, even though he had texted her about fifteen minutes into his wait explaining the situation. Besides, his PSP battery was dangerously low, and he wanted to save a bit of that battery life for the journey home. Not that he could even use it in weather like this. Perhaps he would play just one more level before he left…
“Didn’t think to bring an umbrella this morning?”
Kenma jumped in slight surprise, and tilted his head up to see Kuroo himself staring down at him, his smile unexpectedly soft as he looked down at Kenma. His features looked so similar to when they were kids, but everything seemed more dramatic, more angular than before. Quite frankly he looked more like a mob boss than a model but he still had this charm to him that made him seem trustworthy.
Or maybe that was the childhood friend bias talking.
“Mind if I join you?”
Kenma nodded, quickly looking back down at his game just in time to see “YOU DIED” in red letters across the screen.
“Make yourself at home, I guess…”
Kuroo gracefully sat himself down next to Kenma, and he chuckled upon seeing the screen in Kenma’s hands. “Still love to play video games, I see? Have you played the new Monster Hunter, it’s all the rage these days.”
“yeah, it was ok,” Kenma responded. “I feel like the leveling was a little inconsistent…”
“Ever the strategist, you are.”
Kenma shrugged as the screen powered off, finally succumbing to lack of power. Kenma sighed, knowing he couldn’t just stare at a screen to hide from the nerves he was feeling.
“Hey Kuro…”
Kuroo’s eyes widened for a second, before he started to grin again.
“You still remember that nickname, I’m touched~”
“What… happened?” Kenma’s voice was barely a whisper. “You just disappeared one day and I never saw you again… except for on magazine covers…”
Kuroo’s expression suddenly turned somber.
“When I hung out with you… it was a secret. I was sneaking out. My dad found out shortly after mom…” He closed his eyes for a second before continuing, “after mom… disappeared. He freaked out and basically he’s been monitoring my every move since. I’m sorry I couldn’t contact you, I didn’t know how since you didn’t have a phone yet…”
“Oh. I’m… that sounds… like the worst,” Kenma responded, unsure what to say.
“It’s okay, it wasn’t your fault. Besides, I managed to convince him to let me go to school this year, and I’m so glad I ended up in the same place as you.”
He turned to look directly into Kenma’s eyes; the timid second-year wanted to look away, and yet somehow he didn’t.
“I really missed you, Kenma. I know that it probably hurt to have me vanish like that, but I hope we… we can be friends again?” His expression was one of regret and hope, as the question hung in the air. After a moment Kenma opened his mouth to speak, but only silence came out.
The odd, almost spell-like moment was broken as a sleek black limo slid up to the nearest curb, both heads turning at the sound of the engine. Kuroo slowly got up, grabbing his bag.
“Looks like my ride is here. Sorry we couldn’t chat longer. Before I go though, I have something,” He unzipped his bag, shuffling through the various items inside for a moment before pulling out a small, red, collapsible umbrella, and placing it next to Kenma. “I feel like you need it more than I today.” Before Kenma could react, Kuroo flashed him a small grin before hoisting his bag onto his shoulder and dashing down the shiny sidewalk towards the limo. He waved briefly as he leapt inside to avoid the rain. Kenma waved back as the vehicle smoothly turned onto the road.
He picked up the umbrella, and after a moment of inspection, the umbrella snapped open at the press of a button on the side. As he locked it in place, Kenma noticed a little paper falling out of the folds of the red fabric. He caught it before it drifted to the ground, and read the writing inside; a number was scrawled out on the paper, with a small message:
Text me when you get home safe :3
-Kuroo
Kenma smiled a little, placing the umbrella down momentarily to punch the number into his phone. He then opened up a new text messge, and began to type.
I’d love to be friends again.