Chapter Text
“Another lap of dives, let’s go!” Kuroo Tetsurou shouted, clapping his hands together.
Kenma groaned inaudibly and dived yet again. Nekoma had lost another practice game to Fukurodani. Despite his pads, his knees ached, and he was breathing hard. He wiped the sweat off his
forehead, careful not to displace his carefully tucked hair, and continued.
The way he tucked his hair was Kuroo’s invention. Kenma remembered the day like it was yesterday- a dusty summer afternoon on the playground.
“Kozume!” Kuroo had called, swinging down from the monkey bars, a tangle of bedhead and bruises. “How am I supposed to see your face if it’s under all that hair?” He landed squarely in front of the shorter boy, and swiped the then-black hair out of Kenma’s eyes.
“H-hey.. don’t do that,” Kenma had protested, pulling his hair back over his forehead. “I.. see too much. It’s too much.”
“How about this, then?” Kuroo carefully tucked Kenma’s hair behind his ears, so that his face was exposed but the sides fell over his cheeks.
They were only eight, too young to brood. Something had stirred in him then, something that Kenma couldn’t quite place.
Even though the meds he was eventually prescribed with and his therapist eventually got rid of Kenma’s need for a small field of vision, he still tucked his hair like Kuroo had done that day.
Lev hitting the ground next to him drew Kenma out of his thoughts.
“I can’t do any more!” the tall boy whined, rolling over.
“Two more and you’re done the lap, you absolute tin can,” Yaku shouted, kicking Lev in the ribs. “You’re such a drama queen!”
Kenma grimaced. They were so loud. Everyone was really loud.
He finished his lap and stood there, loudness crashing in. Kenma closed his eyes and fought the urge to pull his hair over his face.
“Oi, Kenma,” Kuroo called, strolling over to his setter. Seeing the strained look on the other’s face, Kuroo leaned down.
“Oi, Kenma,” he repeated, softer this time. Kuroo was used to his friend’s anxiety, being Kenma’s longest friend, and he always knew exactly what to do.
The truth is, Kenma thought, eyes still shut: I need him.
“Do you want to step outside for a bit? I can come with you if you want,” Kuroo’s hair fell in his face as he leaned toward Kenma.
It was a strange thing, to need someone. It was a different thing to want them. Kenma was back on that dusty playground, the same thing stirring in him.
“No, I’m okay,” Kenma answered. He looked up at the taller boy.
“Are you sure? If you don’t want to do another round of dive laps, we need you at your best. I need you at your best; you’re the brain, remember?”
Kenma almost rolled his eyes at Kuroo’s oretachi wa ketsueki da bullshit. But they both needed each other.
And in that moment, Kenma wanted him too.
Without thinking, Kenma leaned his head on Kuroo’s chest.
“Oh- hey, okay,” Slowly but not awkwardly, the taller boy wrapped his arms around Kenma, who leaned closer.
They were both slick with sweat and burning up, but there was something that felt so right about this. In that moment, they were alone in that gym, arms wrapped around each other.
Kuroo broke the embrace, face hot.
“Are you good now? Did that.. help?”
Kenma nodded.
———
They had lost their last set against Fukuroudani, and Kenma was miserable, sweaty, and exhausted.
Nekoma trudged toward the change room after Bokuto and Kuroo had shaken hands. Yaku and Lev were bickering softly, Yamamoto was going on about Fukurodani’s cute manager, and Kuroo was reiterating some of their good plays.
It occurred to Kenma that maybe he loved his team. Love. What a weird word.
Kuroo always waited for Kenma to finish in the changeroom so he could make a big show about asking to take him home, despite them living literally next to each other.
“Come here often?” he said tonight.
“Shut up.” was Kenma’s consistent reply.
“Do you live near here? It’s getting a bit dark, don’t you think?” Kuroo grinned his best provocateur’s grin. “Perhaps I could... walk you home? Do you take the train?”
Kenma smiled.
Kenma... smiled? To Kuroo, this was a rare occurrence. He never smiled at his dumb pick-ups. But seeing his best friend smile in the haze of the evening, he wanted nothing more than to make it common.
They travelled home in their customary comfortable silence, bumping shoulders. It had been a tough night, and usually Kuroo would be chattering about Bokuto while Kenma zoned out, but tonight he was silent.
Tetsurou couldn’t stop thinking about their embrace.
Kuroo knew a thousand ways to calm Kenma down when his anxiety acted up, but affection had never been one of them.
And it didn’t help that he was in love with Kozume Kenma.
It was just something that he had picked up over their ten years of friendship. No matter how many girls he dated, Kuroo knew that he would always come back to his grumpy blond setter. He had just accepted it, and spent their time together loving Kenma silently. He would get over him eventually. That’s what you said last year, and the year before that, the voice in Kuroo’s head would say. It was the same voice that whispered “what if he loved you back? do you want that, Tetsurou?” in the dead of nights when he would clench his fists and toss and turn.
Those nights were rare now. Kuroo refused to yearn for something that would never exist. He had just accepted it.
They were only a block away from home now, and Kuroo was pulled out of his thoughts when Kenma let out a noisy yawn. He couldn’t help but notice how cat-like he looked, with his nose scrunched and mouth showing his slightly sharp canines. He looked adorable.
“Why are you smiling?”
“I’m not smiling.” He continued smiling.
Kenma yawned again, drawing his hands out of his pockets. And then slipped Kuroo’s hand in his.
Kenma’s hand was small and cool in his, and Tetsurou’s brain filled with what ifs.