Work Text:
"Kenma." Kuroo pokes him twice in the side in quick succession. "Kenmaaaaa. Come on, I know you're in there."
Kenma blinks, elbowing Kuroo's hand away from him. "What do you want?" he grumbles.
"Have you ever been in love?"
"Wouldn't you know if I had?" Kenma says. "And who exactly do you think I’d fall in love with?"
"Lev," Kuroo says, grinning, and then dodges Kenma's second sharp elbow. "Kidding, kidding. I just... well, don't you ever wonder what it's like?"
"Not really," Kenma replies, which is the truth. "I just… where is this coming from?"
Kuroo sits down on the bench beside him, leaning slightly into Kenma's side. Kenma leans back; he's used to physical contact when it comes from Kuroo, after all, and Kuroo is comfortable. "I dunno. I saw this set of questions online that's supposed to make you fall in love, and I started wondering, I guess."
"The questions are probably bullshit," Kenma mumbles back.
"Says the cynic," Kuroo says. “It's worked for some people, I bet."
"I doubt it," Kenma replies.
Kuroo frowns, but then slowly, the corners of his mouth lift up into a smirk. "Well, if it's so unbelievable, why don't we give it a try?"
Kenma glances up at him curiously. "What do you mean?"
"Let's do the 36 questions to fall in love," Kuroo says, still smirking stupidly. "If we don't fall in love, then you're right, it's bullshit. But if we do somehow..." Kuroo waggles his eyebrows. "Then I win."
Kenma thinks it over for a second. It's obvious that Kuroo's just doing this as a joke, and Kenma doesn't have anything better to do, so there's no real reason for him to refuse. He shrugs. "Fine, I guess. But these questions better not be annoying."
"I’ll make it as annoying as possible just for you,” Kuroo says, and Kenma scowls in response. “Question 1," Kuroo continues. "if you could invite anyone in the world to dinner, who would it be? And no, you can't invite me, as amazing a dinner partner as I am."
Kenma scowls at him, then says, "Do video game characters count?"
"Hm. I'm not sure," Kuroo replies. “Not specified."
Kenma crosses his arms and leans back. "Maybe I’ll invite Sakurai, you know, the Smash guy," he says. "I have a lot of suggestions for new characters."
Kuroo gives a very unattractive snort. "At least it's not a fictional character," he allows. "Hm. For me... for me, it'd probably be one of the world's best middle blockers, so I can get suggestions on how to improve."
"You're such a volleyball nerd," Kenma says, shaking his head.
"I’m just being honest. Okay, question 2. Would you like to be famous? In what way?"
"I know your answer for this," Kuroo says before Kenma can even open his mouth. "Nope, not at all, ever."
Kenma gives a slight nod. "Yeah, well, probably not for me. Too much attention. But who knows in the future? I think you'd do okay, though. People would like you."
Kuroo beams. "Is that a compliment I hear?"
Kenma frowns at him. "I’m just saying, you can be charming sometimes."
"It'd be cool to be a famous volleyball player," Kuroo says, "but at the same time, I do think I’d get annoyed with the privacy invasions and shit. So trade-offs, I guess. Well, onto question 3... before making a phone call, do you ever rehearse what you're going to say? Ha. I know this one, too."
"I don't make phone calls," Kenma says flatly.
"But when you're forced to, you totally do rehearse what you’re gonna say," Kuroo says, eyes twinkling. Kenma looks away, his cheeks heating up.
"So do you," Kenma protests.
"You got me there," Kuroo says with a low chuckle. "Phone calls suck, and I’m always paranoid I’m gonna fuck them up. Shit, is this game too easy if you know too much about the other person? Question 4. What would constitute a perfect day for you? I know this one too." Kuroo suddenly sounds too eager. "You don't leave the house and you play video games all day, alone."
Kenma frowns, and because it's Kuroo, he notices Kenma’s frown immediately. "What? Did I miss something?"
Shit. Kenma suddenly hates this stupid game. His perfect day wouldn't be alone, though. There's one person he wouldn't mind being by his side. But it’s way too embarrassing to say to Kuroo.
"is there someone you'd want there?" Kuroo asks curiously.
It's more suspicious if he refuses to say, right? So Kenma says, "Yeah."
He hopes Kuroo will leave it there, but Kuroo's always been too curious. "Who?"
Kenma buries his head into his knees and says, "Just leave it."
“What? Is it Shrimpy?”
“No, Kuro.”
"Oh," Kuroo says, which means he's realized. Kenma wants to die. "Well, if it's any comfort, I’d want you at my perfect day too." Kenma lifts his head a little bit, allowing Kuroo to go on. "Maybe play some volleyball with the rest of the team, go out to eat somewhere nice, go for a nice peaceful run, and then come home and play video games with you," he says.
Kenma feels his eyes widen a little bit.
He'd never imagined that Kuroo enjoyed playing video games with him that much. Kuroo seems to realize his confusion, because he elaborates, "It's nice to see you happy, even if I’m getting my ass kicked in every competitive game.” Kenma's traitorous heart speeds up. God, he yells internally, would you shut up?
"Question five," Kuroo says. "When did you last sing in front to yourself? To someone else?" He looks up. "Uh, does karaoke count? I don't exactly serenade people. Though I wouldn't be opposed to it in the future."
"I don't sing," Kenma says.
"You do too, liar," Kuroo says.
"This game is unfair."
"Sometimes you sing along to the music in the games you're playing," Kuroo says, a weird smile on his lips. "You have a nice voice, y’know?”
"Shut up," Kenma says. He's sure he must be the color of a tomato by now. "Then that's my answer to both, I guess."
Kuroo’s weird smile doesn’t go away, but he doesn’t press the matter. "Question 6: if you were able to live to the age of 90 and retain either the mind or body of a 30 year old for the last 60 years of your life, which would you want? God, these are too easy. You'd want the mind."
"Having an excuse to never move would be nice," Kenma agrees. "I feel like this is a hard one for you to answer, though."
Kuroo nods. "Yeah. I'd hate to have my movement limited, but not being able to think might actually kill me."
"Sometimes I think you turn off your brain anyways," Kenma teases. "Especially when you're with Bokuto."
"Little shit," Kuroo says with a glare. "I think I might go with keeping my mind too, actually. But you'd have to carry me around in my old age."
"I’m a year younger than you, Kuro. How would that even work?"
“What a betrayal," Kuroo sniffs. "Uh, wow. Question 7 is a lot. It’s do you have a hunch about how you'll die?"
"Probably in a boring way," Kenma says in a monotone. "Old age, I suspect, or poor health."
"Given your diet, that's probably true," Kuroo snorts, but there's something swimming in his eyes that Kenma can't place.
"For me, probably the same. Old age or disease or something."
Kenma suddenly feels a squeeze on his heart at the idea of Kuroo dying, leaving him behind. He glares at him. "Not any time soon."
"No, not any time soon," Kuroo agrees. "Let's move on. Name three things we have in common. Too easy. Volleyball, Metal Gear, attractive."
"The third thing isn't objectively true," Kenma says, trying to keep himself from having a heart attack, because did Kuroo just call him attractive?! Holy shit. Did he mean it?
“Fine. We literally had the same childhood. That has to count as something in common."
"And we go to the same school," Kenma says. "These seem really superficial."
"Fine," Kuroo amends. "We're both dedicated, both different than how we appear to others, both geniuses in our own right."
"Cliché, but whatever," Kenma replies, trying to keep the smile off his face.
"Question nine. For what do you feel most grateful?"
Kenma bites his lip. "For... friends, I guess. Having people that accept me no matter what." he can feel Kuroo's gaze on him, so he says, "Yes, you're included in that."
"Sweet," Kuroo says. "Uh, this is weird to say, but… for me, I’m grateful for a lot of things: my team, family, volleyball, whatever. But I think I’m most grateful for you. I don't think I could've gotten through my childhood so easily without you there. And Nekoma wouldn't have been the same without you. Nothing would."
Kenma very determinedly does not look up at Kuroo, because he's starting to think that there might be a point to this question game after all.
"Okay, next question," Kuroo says, laughing nervously. "If you could change anything about the way you were raised, what would it be?"
"Hm," Kenma says. "I don't think there's that much I would change. I had my parents, and I had you. I'd change things about school, for sure. But not so much about the way I was raised by my parents. They're acceptable."
Kuroo laughs. "Acceptable, huh? For me, I don't know. It would have been nice to have a parent that was actually present in my life," Kuroo says with a bitter laugh. "But it was nice to have you around, and your parents helped, so I guess it ended up okay."
"You deserved better," Kenma mutters quietly.
Kuroo's eyes droop a little. Subconsciously, Kenma's hand drops to brush Kuroo's, and Kuroo takes hold of it, giving it a gentle squeeze. "It is what it is, and it means I met you," he says firmly. "Question 10: if you could wake up tomorrow with any ability, what would it be?"
"Mind reading," Kenma says immediately.
"You just want to know what people like that weird shrimpy from Karasuno are thinking," Kuroo says, shaking his head.
"I wouldn't have to worry about what people are thinking if I already know," Kenma points out.
"Yeah, I guess that makes sense." An ugly grin makes its way onto Kuroo's face. "I want invisibility. The pranks would be so fucking good, Kenma. Can you imagine?"
"I’d prefer not to," Kenma says.
Kuroo cackles. "Okay, fine. Next question."
"If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about yourself, your life, the future or anything else, what would you want to know?"
"That's a lot of pressure," Kenma says. "I don't know."
"I’d just want to know that my future self is happy," Kuroo says, "and that you're okay."
"That's two things," Kenma points out, because he's not sure what else to say to that.
"They never said there was a limit!" Kuroo responds.
"Fine." Kenma stares down. "I guess I’d want the same. Or find out when certain game sequels are being released."
Kuroo rolls his eyes. “Is there something you've dreamed of doing for a long time? If so, why haven't you done it?" Kuroo grins. "Mine was getting to Nationals, and I did do it. Gotta find a new dream now. University Nationals, maybe."
"Predictable. My dream is... Huh, I dunno. Beat Karasuno, maybe."
"Next year," Kuroo promises warmly, and it stings just a little for Kenma to remember that Kuroo won't be by his side if he wins next year. "Hm. What's the greatest accomplishment of your life? Nationals, again."
"Beating Dark Souls," Kenma says immediately.
Kuroo gives Kenma's hand a light squeeze. "Of course. Okay, what do you value most in a friendship?"
"Trust," Kuroo says, as Kenma says, "Understanding."
"Good thing we've got those covered," Kuroo says proudly. "Most treasured memory?"
"I think I know yours," Kenma says quietly. "The first time we went to that volleyball practice and you talked to Coach Nekomata."
Kuroo glances over at Kenma, his eyes big and a little bit watery. "You remember that?"
"I knew it was important to you," Kenma says with a nod.
"It was," Kuroo says, his voice a little choked. He pauses, and then speaks again, sounding more composed. "What's yours?"
"I have a lot," Kenma says. "The game against Karasuno, the day I beat my first difficult game, the day you became captain..."
"The day I became captain?" Kuroo repeats.
"Yeah. I knew the old third years wouldn't pick on me anymore," Kenma says.
Kuroo's eyes gleam in understanding. "Ah, I guess that leads into the next one. Most terrible memory."
"All that shit with the old third years," Kenma says.
"Yeah," Kuroo says, voice low. "I’m still sorry I made you stick with it. If I’d known how bad it was..."
"Stop." Kenma cuts him off. "It's not your fault. It was their fault, no one else's." His, maybe, as well; if he wasn't so weak, he wouldn't have gotten bullied.
But he won't say that to Kuroo. Instead, he says, "Yours is the day your mom..."
"Yeah," Kuroo says hoarsely. "Yeah, it is."
Kenma nods, squeezing his hand tightly.
Kuroo sighs. "God, the next question is about death too."
"If you knew that you'd die suddenly in a year, would you change anything about the way you're living now? Why?"
"Maybe less volleyball and more video games," Kenma says, "But maybe not, because then I wouldn't be able to spend time with… with people."
"I’d definitely drop out of school," Kuroo says. "but I’d still keep learning certain things, just for the fun of it."
Kenma's mouth quirks up. "You're such a nerd."
"Spend my time with the people I care about," Kuroo says, stroking the back of Kenma's hand. Kenma's heart jumps.
"No more death questions," Kenma says firmly.
"Let's hope," Kuroo agrees. "Uh, what does friendship mean to you?"
"I guess someone who's interesting, who you want to spend time with."
"Someone you care about," Kuroo says.
Kenma nods. "Obviously."
"But I don't know," Kenma continues. "Obviously there are different levels of friendship, and each level feels... different, I guess."
"And romance is a whole different level," Kuroo muses.
Kenma's heart skips a beat as he starts to understand. "Well, yeah. I guess it is."
"21," Kuroo says. "What role do love and affection play in your life? Huh, that's interesting. I'd say for me, they're pretty important. But I guess you can see that, huh?" He looks down at their still intertwined hands, his cheeks slightly red. Kenma has to wonder.
He supposes it's because Kuroo's embarrassed that they're holding hands, though. Kuroo tilts his head at Kenma. "Your turn, then."
"I’ve never thought that much about either," Kenma says, and then, after a moment's consideration, "but I don't mind affection... if it's you."
Kuroo's silent. Kenma wonders if, despite all they've been saying, those words had somehow crossed a line. But then Kenma looks over to see a red flush all over Kuroo's face and Kuroo's frantically saying, "Okay, okay, next question. Five things you like about the other, but we have to alternate. Well, for me, this is easy. I'll start. I like your brain."
"You have to give a little more explanation than that," Kenma says. "That sounds weird."
Kuroo laughs brightly. "How intelligent you are. The strategies you're able to come up with. You blow me away."
Kenma feels warm all over, but he can't pause to think of it. "I, uh, I like how much you care. Even if you're a little too over the top at times."
Kuroo grins. "I like how passionate you can get when you care about something, like during the Karasuno game."
"I’m impressed by how good of a leader you are," Kenma says, his voice a little embarrassingly quiet.
"Well, I’m impressed at how you can kick my ass at almost any game out there," Kuroo says.
The corner of Kenma's mouth turns up. "Only because you suck at games," Kenma tells him.
"Hey, this is compliment time," Kuroo protests.
"Fine. I like how smart you are, too, and therefore you can tutor me."
"That feels a bit self-serving, but I’ll take it. I like your sense of humor, you know, the little quips you whisper to me. I like that I get to hear them."
Kenma wants to hide his face, but there's nowhere left to hide. "I like that you're honest. I've never had to worry about trusting you."
Kuroo's smile is too big, too real. Kenma wants to look away. "I like your smile," he says quietly. "I always want to see it."
Kenma thinks he might just die on the spot.
Instead, he forces himself to say, "I like your stupid hair," and has to also force himself not to reach out to touch it.
Kuroo keeps his gaze on Kenma, and Kenma can't bring himself to look elsewhere until Kuroo finally, finally says, "Uh, question 23."
"How close and warm is your family? Do you feel your childhood was happier than other people’s?" Kuroo wrinkles up his nose. "You know my answer. But my childhood... could have been worse, y'know. I won't complain."
"It's okay to complain even if other people have it worse,” Kenma says, and then continues, "Someone always has it worse. But for me, my family is close, I guess, and my childhood was okay besides school and stuff."
"Yeah," Kuroo says. "God, the family questions again. How do you feel about your relationship with your mother? I don't really have any way to talk to her, so I guess I’d say nonexistent." He barks out a laugh.
"You had a good relationship before, though, right?"
"We did," Kuroo confirms. "Your relationship with your mom is pretty good, I’d say."
"I guess." Kenma looks away, up at the ceiling. "Sometimes I think she wishes I was different. More outgoing or social. I'm not that much like her, you know. I'm sure she's got to be disappointed of me in some way."
Kuroo's head suddenly twists towards him, his gaze intense. “You're not a disappointment," he says, his voice firm. "Okay? Don't believe that for a second. There's no way she'd be disappointed to have a son like you."
The way he's speaking leaves Kenma with no room to doubt, so Kenma nods, speechless.
"Question 25. We have to come up with three true we statements," Kuroo says. "Hm, isn't that a we statement already?"
"That feels like cheating."
“Fine," Kuroo says, rubbing his chin with his free hand. "We both go to Nekoma - uh, went to Nekoma."
"Also cheating."
"Fine, you come up with one then!"
Kenma pauses, and then says, "Well, I guess we've both been together since we were kids, and I don't see that ending any time soon."
"We both don't see that ending - ever," Kuroo confirms, squeezing Kenma's hand.
"We both agree that Solid Snake has the sexiest ass on the planet," Kuroo says.
"Yeah," Kenma replies, because whatever, it's true, and then, back to Kuroo's original - "I assume we're both going to miss playing together."
Kuroo doesn't hesitate before agreeing. "So much."
"But it's not like your career is over," Kenma says.
"Still," Kuroo hums, "it's not like volleyball's the same without you."
Kenma's voice is low as he says, "I know."
"Complete this sentence," Kuroo says. "I wish I had someone with whom I could share..."
"I share everything with you already," Kenma says. "Too much sometimes, I feel like."
"Hey, c'mon, you love it," Kuroo teases, poking at his hand, and then, "but don't you wish you had someone you could like, be romantic with?"
"Sometimes," Kenma admits.
He doesn't mention that he only wishes for one person and has only realized it right now.
Kuroo nods. "Me too, I guess. That's all I’m missing. Oh, this one's stupid for us. If you were going to be close friends with your partner, share what would be important for him to know."
"It's important for you to know I hate when people barge into my room without knocking."
"Aw, c'mon. Well, in that case, I hate when people ignore my texts for hours on end to 'finish a game'."
"I hate when people tell me to pause my online games."
"I hate when people fake injuries to get out of volleyball practice."
"My ankle was actually hurting, stupid," Kenma hisses, but he's laughing, and Kuroo is too. Kuroo's hand is warm inside of his. Kenma doesn't want to let go.
Kuroo frowns. "You're supposed to say what you like again, but be honest this time. I was honest the first time, though."
"I don't think I have compliments left in me."
"Just one more," Kuroo says, "so we can say we did it right. Uh, I like how comfortable you make me feel. It's like no matter what happens in my life, I’d always have you to come home to."
"Yeah," Kenma manages. It's too much for him to handle, almost. Still, he makes himself think, until he comes up with, "I like that you're not who I thought you were."
"Huh?" Kuroo asks.
"Or I guess I mean, who I’d think you were if I met you now," Kenma tries to explain. "I like that you're not a party animal socialite. I like that you're a stupid dork and you make terrible puns and you're nearly at the top of the class and you have a terrible laugh."
Kuroo's smile is so big Kenma thinks his face might split in half. "You know, I like when you pretend like you're insulting me but we both know that you're complimenting me."
"Shut up," Kenma says, "and the compliments are over now. Next question."
"Fine," Kuroo agrees. "Share with your partner an embarrassing moment in your life. Shit, you know all of mine."
"Oh, like the time you tried to confess to that girl in middle school and ended up spitting water all over her face?"
"Kenma!! Shut up!! Or should I bring up that time in first year..."
"Kuro."
"When you were sleep deprived from playing too many fucking games and you thought that really tall dude was me and you just strolled up beside him and said 'I can't believe you, asshole' cause you were mad at me and he nearly punched you-"
"Shut up," Kenma says, scowling at Kuroo.
"Dine, fine, onto number thirty," Kuroo says. "When did you last cry in front of another person? By yourself? Huh. Nationals for both, I guess."
"Yeah," Kenma says. "Me too."
"I didn't see you cry," Kuroo points out.
"Because I didn't want you to," Kenma tells him.
Kuroo's quiet again, and for a second Kenma thinks he might cry - the irony of it - before he says, "It's another compliment one."
"You're kidding." Kenma groans.
"I don't run out of things I like about you," Kuroo says. "I like that I can be myself around you. I like that you'd always accept me no matter what, as obnoxious as I can be. I like how open you are with me," Kuroo finishes.
"Fine," Kenma says. "I like that you never judge me for being anxious or whatever. You respect my boundaries. That's nice."
Kuroo nods. "I’ll take it. Okay, uh. What, if anything, is too serious to be joked about?"
"There are some things," Kenma says.
"Yeah," Kuroo replies. "I like making jokes out of people, mostly. Like pranks and shit. Not big on purposely offensive humor."
"I know. Well, next question."
"If you were to die this evening with no opportunity to communicate with anyone, what would you most regret not having told someone? Why haven’t you told them yet?"
Kuroo takes a second to pause. "I’m starting to realize that there's someone I should tell I love them."
Kenma wants to ask. He wants to ask so badly it's suffocating him. But for that reason, he can't make himself ask. He doesn't want to know, just in case there's a chance it could be about someone else, a family member or something. Just in case it’s not about him.
"I think mine might be similar," Kenma mumbles.
He prays Kuroo doesn't ask, because he's not prepared to say. Thankfully, Kuroo doesn't ask.
"Your house catches fire. After saving your loved ones and pets, you have time to make a final dash to save one item. What would it be? Why?" Kuroo asks instead. “Don't tell me it's your PSP," Kuroo finishes, shaking his head.
Kenma had considered it, but only momentarily. "I... No. I don't really care about monetary items that much, but some things can't be replaced. I guess I’d save the photo albums. For my mom, and for... for you."
It's kind of embarrassing how all of his answers lead back to Kuroo. Kuroo doesn't seem to mind, though, judging by how his eyes light up. "I still have the volleyball we played with for the first time," he says. "I can't let anything happen to it. It's my good luck charm."
"Ugh, another death question. Of all the people in your family, whose death would you find most disturbing? Why?" Kuroo groans. "My dad, I guess. It'd be weird to be an orphan."
"For me, either of my parents, but especially my mom," Kenma says.
"My mom tends to be the one to make the family… engage in social activities, and it'd be weird not to have her there. And we're close, I guess, so that too."
Kuroo nods. "Yeah, I thought you'd say that. Okay, final question. Share a personal problem and ask your partner how he might handle it. Also, tell your partner that shares the problem what they might be feeling about the problem."
"This isn't a question," Kenma points out.
"I guess," Kuroo says, and they sit quietly for a moment, just looking at each other. "Fine. I'll go first. I don't know if I’m ready for college." His voice is low, unsteady. It throws Kenma off. "it's a new school, and I’m still not amazing with new places. And you won't be there. You won't be far, of course, but you won't be right next door either. And what if I fuck it up? What am I supposed to do?"
Kenma clenches his hands into fists. "I can't tell you how I would handle that problem, because I don't have a clue. I can tell you, though, that I know you're going to be fine. You got the entirety of Nekoma to like you - or at least tolerate you." Kuroo snorts at that. “And you're right, I won't be next door. But I’ll still be here. Physical distance doesn't matter. Also, old man, we have technology now. Phones. Video calls. I'll still be here, if you still need me."
Kuroo's hand squeezes even tighter. "Always, Kenma. I’ll always need you. Now... Your turn."
"I was supposed to tell you how you felt about the situation, though,” Kenma says, a little smug. “And I don’t know for sure, but I think you might be nervous."
"Oh my god, shut up."
"My problem is..." Kenma exhales. "My problem is that the captaincy of Nekoma got passed down to me, and I know that I definitely can't fill the old captain's shoes."
"You know," Kuroo says, voice too smug for the situation, "when I was your age, I was in a similar situation."
"You were my age a year ago."
"And? It's still the truth," Kuroo protests, and then says, "and I just... did what I could, I guess. Played to my strengths... But mostly to the strengths of the team. I realized that you were what the team needed as the center, so I played to that. And I know that you'll be fine, too, because you've always been so good at observing people and figuring out what they need. So you'll be able to find out what this team needs, too. Oh, I think you might also be feeling worried. Maybe."
"Shut up," Kenma grumbles. "Well, is that it?"
Kuroo chuckles, warm and low. "Not quite," he says. “We have to stare into each other's eyes for 4 minutes straight."
"We what?" Kenma repeats in shock. "You've got to be kidding me."
"That's what it says!" Kuroo says. "I’m not making this up!"
It's too late to back out now, Kenma supposes, so he groans and turns to face Kuroo, not letting go of Kuroo's hand. "Let's get this over with, then."
Kuroo turns to face him too. Kenma doesn't want to look at him at first; he's too afraid of what he might see if he does. But he makes himself - for the sake of the game, because they're so close to being finished. Kuroo's eyes are shiny and his gaze is warm and-
And Kenma finds himself being subconsciously drawn closer, like a moth drawn to a flame.
He doesn't realize until his lips meet Kuroo's that Kuroo's been leaning in too.
The kiss isn't filled with sparks or fireworks, but Kenma's pretty sure he wouldn't want those anyway. It is warm, though, and gentle until it gets a little bit rough, and filled with emotion, and the most important thing, Kenma's realizing, is that the kiss is full of Kuroo.
When Kuroo pulls back, he keeps his forehead resting against Kenma's. "Well, you were right," he says, voice soft. "The game's bullshit."
Kenma doesn't know what to say to that. He lowers his gaze, wondering if he'd been mistaken somehow. Did Kuroo not feel the same thing he did?
"It didn't make me fall in love with you," Kuroo continues. "It just made me realize that I’d been in love with you this entire time."
Oh, holy shit, Kenma thinks. His heart beats so fast he thinks he might explode. He breaks their gaze, looking down at the ground.
"You're blushing," Kuroo teases, one of his hands trailing along Kenma's cheek. "But... I mean, tell me to stop if this isn't what you want, okay? I just..."
"Don't be stupid," Kenma says, grabbing his hand. "I... Of course I love you too, Kuro. It could never be anyone else."
Kuroo's face is joyous all over again, and Kenma says, "I guess this means I win, huh," as he pulls Kuroo in to kiss him again. Between kisses, Kuroo mutters, "Well, I’m pretty sure I won something even better today," which Kenma thinks is the cheesiest thing he's ever heard.
And yet somehow it makes his traitorous heart skip a beat all over again.
(Maybe it should be called 36 questions to make you realize you're in love, Kenma thinks.)