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Yaku despised his housemate.
And he had very real, very valid reasons for it, no matter what the other said.
“I have done nothing wrong, ever,” Kuroo insisted as he gracelessly threw himself on the bright red sofa, nearly toppling Yaku over.
After struggling to keep two not-so-light open textbooks from falling off his lap, the brunette scoffed loudly. “I hate you. I hate you so much. There’s an infinity of things I hate about you.”
“Oh, I’d love to hear more about it. Got a list, or something?”
He wasn’t sure if it was the infuriatingly smug tone or the shit-eating grin that came with it, but that struck Yaku as a challenge. As a matter of fact, there were so many reasons he might as well write them down. (Not that he enjoyed wasting time thinking about Kuroo. He was just trying to prove a point, that’s all.)
And that’s how the list started.
1) He hated that he lived to spite him.
If the opposite of a guardian angel existed, it would’ve been Tetsurou Kuroo. It was like he had made it his life mission to antagonize Yaku no matter what, perfectly aware that the latter couldn’t back off from a challenge for the life of him.
It was supposed to be a fun afternoon at the arcade, reminiscing the old times with Daichi and Sugawara by spending the last of their pennies on games they were way too grown to enjoy as much as they did.
And it was fun, really. Yaku couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed that hard, the pent-up stress from hours and hours of studying slowly dissolving in the air at each ball he tossed at the small basket, elbows bumping into Suga’s every once in a while.
That, until the last coin rested in Kuroo’s stupidly oversized fingers.
Yaku eyed it hungrily, struggling to stay still as he slowly reached for the other’s hand. “Give me the coin, Kuroo,” he started calmly, trying his best to sound reasonable. “We’re not getting out of here before we play Dance Dance Revolution.”
But of course, it couldn’t possibly be that easy. Far from Kuroo to miss a single opportunity to be a little bitch.
“What if I wanted to play Guitar Hero?”
There it was. Yaku could swear he did it on purpose, the entertained glint in the taller’s eyes revealing just how much he enjoyed getting a rise out of Yaku for the sake of it. He wondered if he ever got tired of investing every second of his time in making Yaku’s existence a living hell. Or maybe he thrived on it, every jeer and taunting remark feeding his gigantic ego and replenishing his cursed soul.
“You’re not wasting the last of our tokens on heckin’ Guitar Hero,” he flipped right away, the black-haired man already testing the limits of his patience.
“And who’s gonna stop me, Yakkun?”
“Stop calling me that, you beanpole jerk!”
“So much anger in such a little body. That can’t be possibly good for you, Yakkun.”
“I am going to throttle you.”
And he wouldn’t have hesitated if only Daichi hadn’t rushed to intervene, face scrunched up in a disapproving scowl as he kept Yaku from jumping his asshole of a roommate. Five minutes and a few words - veiled threats? Yaku couldn’t tell - from Sugawara later, Kuroo eventually dropped the coin into Yaku’s expecting hand.
Life was fair, after all.
Yaku couldn’t help the pleased smirk blooming on his lips. “Good boy!” he cooed as he threw an exaggerated wink before hurrying to the Dance Dance Revolution machine, inadvertently leaving Kuroo nothing short of a stuttering mess.
2) He hated his ridiculous jokes.
Kuroo was many things; a dedicated asshole, an excellent volleyball player, a top student and, when opportunely paired with Koutarou Bokuto, a chaotic motherfucker. Most of all, Kuroo was a complete dork, from his ridiculous laughter to the awkward chuckles he let out at all the worst possible moments. Not to mention his frankly humiliating attempts at pick-up lines.
For once, Yaku was actively trying to take notes. Contemporary History wasn’t a class he necessarily hated; it could’ve even appeared among his favorite ones if only his professor wasn’t so damn boring, making it ten times harder to follow the lecture.
Hence why, doesn’t matter how much he had promised himself not to touch his phone before the end of the class, he didn’t hesitate to drop his pen on the desk and pull the device out of his bag as soon as it vibrated to signal a notification. It might be an emergency or something, he promptly justified himself in his head.
Not surprisingly, it was not an emergency. Even less surprisingly, it was just Kuroo, because who else could’ve left such a lame comment under his newest Instagram post?
@thekurootetsu : dang, u must have 11 protons, because ur SODIUM fine!!
Yaku flat out hit himself in the forehead, suddenly wishing he had stuck to following the lecture.
@mori_yaku: FREAKIN’ NERD. get tf out of my comments section
Not even thirty seconds after his reply, the screen lit up again.
This time it was a private message.
thekurootetsu : r u made of copper and tellurium? because ur damn CuTe :-)
Oh, for goodness’ sake. That was a new kind of low.
He glanced around him a couple of times, making sure no one was paying enough attention to him to judge him for being on his phone; Kai seemed very focused on the lecture and Oikawa - not that Oikawa had any room to judge on the matter of getting distracted - was not so subtly staring at the back of Iwaizumi head, conveniently sitting a couple of rows in front of them. Once he was certain the road was clear, Yaku attempted his very best to maintain a straight face as he aggressively typed a reply.
are u made of Hydrogen, Uranium, Sulfur, and Hydrogen? ‘cause i need u to HUSH
A few minutes passed. Just when he thought he might’ve finally gotten rid of the perpetual disturbance, the device vibrated once again.
He made a show of rolling his eyes before realizing it was actually a message from Bokuto.
bokUwUto : i think u just broke kuroo
bokUwUto : :D
The ugly snort that left Yaku’s lips earned him an inevitable dirty look from the professor.
3) He hated how stupid pretty somewhat attractive he was.
Really, was it necessary?
The smug bastard knew it, too. It was obvious, with the way he walked around shirtless with the ease of a nude model and that trademark smirk of his constantly plastered on his dumb face.
That morning must’ve been particularly bad, because as soon as his roommate set foot into the living room, Yaku found himself glaring daggers at him. And the guy, stupid bed hair somehow looking as artfully messy as usual without having seen a brush, lanky limbs stretching above his head, had the guts to look confused. “What? What’d I do now?”
Pft. Show-off.
“Must you walk around like that?” The shorter accused, waving a finger in his general direction.
Kuroo quickly glanced at his own exposed torso, then raised an amused eyebrow at him. “This is my apartment.”
“A shared apartment,” stressed the brunette. “As far as you knew, I could’ve had guests over and you would’ve just walked out half-naked for all of them to see.”
Seriously, has this guy ever heard of decency? It made his blood boil in all the worst possible ways.
Predictably enough, the other didn’t look faded in the slightest. “Aw, Yakkun. Are you jealous that other people could see me in all my naked glory?” His grin grew even bigger instead. “But there’s no need to worry! You know I’m all yours.”
If Yaku had an ax, Kuroo’s head would be long since gone. Too bad all the stores offering to sell axes (blacksmiths?) were long since out of business.
“Sincerely, from the bottom of my heart,” Yaku made sure to meet the other’s eyes as he carefully spelled his next words. “Fuck you, Kuroo.”
That elicited one more giggle from the dark-haired boy before he turned to the stove. “I appreciate the sincerity. Want some eggs? I bet you didn’t have breakfast.”
Yaku tried not to be too concerned by the other’s guess. It was common for him to wake up early in the morning and immediately head for his usual spot on the sofa to revise or complete his readings, most often forgetting to fix some breakfast for himself. (If Kuroo was bothered by him monopolizing the couch every day, he never mentioned it.)
He wasn’t sure when exactly Kuroo had made it part of his daily routine to leave a second plate of food for him but, besides occasionally muttering a quiet thanks, Yaku never questioned it; he didn’t wish to dwell on the more subtle implications that came with the thought of having a hot half-naked man cook for him every morning.
4) He hated it when he called him names.
Yaku leaned against the kitchen counter as he sipped on a glass of fresh water, staring sorrowfully at the mountain of notes patiently waiting for him on the sofa. Rationally, he realized it was impossible, but he could swear that the materials were multiplying under his eyes.
The sound of the door opening with a swing warned him that his roommate had woken up. The dark-haired guy entered the living room looking as refreshed as ever, sparing a quick glance at Yaku’s glass before heading for the boiler.
“Is that soda? Because you look so-da-licious.”
“Every night, I wish for you to disappear from the face of the Earth,” Yaku didn’t even bother scoffing, but he made sure to instill every and each of his words with the most vicious venom he was capable of mustering. “And every morning, I am disappointed.”
The amused glint in Kuroo’s pupils was as obvious as ever. “Well, aren’t you the nicest today. Did you sleep at all, sunshine?”
Yaku would be lying if he didn’t admit he was tempted to welcome the opportunity to rant a little, maybe cry his frustration out for half an hour before resuming his studying session. He was running on two hours of sleep, he’d been studying for three hours straight and he was nowhere near the end of it; frankly, he was a bit ashamed of his situation.
He expected Kuroo’s disapproving hum at the lack of a response. “That’s not good for you, Yakkun.”
“I distinctly remember asking you not to call me that,” he grumbled back, pointedly ignoring the other’s concerned look.
“Sure, shorty,” retorted the other, prompting a poisonous glare from the light-haired boy.
“I’m gonna bury your body so deep into the ground no one will be able to find it.”
Kuroo had the nerve to giggle, stepping closer to the other to very obnoxiously wrap his arm around the shorter’s shoulders. “You’re cute when you threaten me.”
He should consider himself lucky Yaku was way too fatigued to commit murder on the spot. “Masochist,” he mumbled as he half-heartedly shoved his arm away and headed back to the sofa.
“Only for you, babe.”
Against his better will, Yaku froze in place for a good couple of seconds.
Now, that one was new.
Not that it bothered him. Not at all.
“You like that one?” There was no need to look at Kuroo to hear the arrogant smirk in his voice.
“Freak,” The shorter flopped down on the cushions, eyes fixed on the closest textbook. “Now shush or leave the room. I have a midterm to study for.”
The other nodded obediently, committing to silence as he also approached the sofa, two fuming mugs in his hands. Before settling down without a word, he carefully balanced one of them on the little table in front of Yaku, proceeding to sip from the other one.
Once again, Kuroo’s arm moved to rest around his shoulders. Be it because of the crippling exhaustion, be it because of his own touch deprivation, Yaku couldn’t find it in him to shake it off.
If he hadn’t been so distracted by the overwhelming amount of papers in front of him, he might have noticed the startling blush exploding on Kuroo’s cheeks.
Neither of them moved for a while.
5) He hated that he was a literal genius, yet a complete dumbass.
“Seriously, Kuroo? The Art and Literature category is the easiest!”
“To you, maybe. I major in chemistry, Yakkun, what the heck am I supposed to know about metaphors?”
“Here’s a metaphor for you: you are the bane of my existence.”
As per usual, Friday meant game night.
That particular night, it was Kuroo and Yaku’s turn to host the game, hence the bunch of undergraduates currently occupying their living room floor.
Asahi’s favorite playlist played from Kuroo’s newly-bought speakers, which he had made sure to show off to Bokuto and Kai the minute the duo had set foot in the apartment. Sugawara leaned just slightly on Daichi’s shoulder, seemingly unaware of the obvious flush coloring the entirety of the latter’s face. The Trivial Pursuit board lay in front of them, empty cans of cheap beer surrounding it.
And of course, it was no game night without Kuroo making a complete fool out of them in the regularly scheduled roomies match.
Sure, he might have gotten them the Science & Nature little green triangle at first try, but what was the point if he flunked everything else?
The most absurd part was that Yaku knew he aced each and every one of his courses. Sure, Kuroo might not be an expert of the humanities, but he was admittedly quite sharp when he wanted to be and there was simply no way he would get that many questions wrong in a row.
It was almost like the sadistic freak enjoyed having Yaku all riled up in his space, an accusing finger jabbing him straight in the chest. “You answered the most cryptic questions on Italian painting techniques earlier when you were teamed up with Daichi, but you couldn’t answer this one?”
Kuroo offered him his sliest smile as he grabbed his index finger and stamped a quick kiss right on the fingertip. “Maybe I just lack the right kind of motivation.”
Kai let out the longest sigh. “We always team roommates up for at least one game so these two can stop competing with each other for a goddamn second, and yet we end up here regardless.”
“It’s stronger than them,” Sugawara chimed in. “They must strive to prove who has the biggest dick.”
Yaku turned his attention away from his primary cause of distress to glare at Suga’s vicious - dare he say, evil - smile. “ Hey- ”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that Yakkun has a remarkable dick.”
Silence fell on the room for one, two, three long, torturous seconds.
Bokuto exploded in the loudest fit of laughter as Asahi stared at him from across the board, looking rather concerned. Yaku flushed an impossible shade of red because Kuroo did not just say that. Quite frankly, he wanted to die. “You-” Yaku struggled to find the words to curse him out. He resorted to waving his hands in the air in a furious flare, hoping it would convey the enormity of his distress. “You’re out of your mind. And I need a drink.”
He stalked to the kitchen without another word. After coming back, a new can of beer in one hand and a slowly recovering face after splashing himself with cold water from the sink, he plopped down again with his back against the sofa. He refused to look in the general direction of his roommate for at least ten minutes, but he didn’t need to peek to hear the satisfied smirk on the taller’s lips.
When Kuroo’s arm moved to rest around his shoulders, he instinctively relaxed against it, the last of his unreleased frustration slipping out of him at the familiar touch.
They happened to win the game in the end.
6) He hated it when he cheated at Mario Kart.
“Are you sure Kenma is okay with us taking his stuff?” Yaku inquired as he arranged some pillows on the floor so they could comfortably sit in front of the TV.
Kuroo shrugged carelessly as he set up the video game. “Yeah, I told you I asked. He’s been playing nothing but Animal Crossing for the past two weeks, anyway.”
“And you’re sure you’re done with your work?”
When the dark-haired boy had stalked into his room ten minutes earlier, begging him to play with him, Yaku had been quite suspicious. He was pretty sure the other had an exam scheduled in less than a week, and he wasn’t inclined to encourage his procrastination.
However, he had barely seen Kuroo since the morning - given that he hadn’t left his room in hours, it was safe to assume the taller had been studying non-stop. Yaku figured he might need some time to unwind.
Kuroo rolled his eyes as he settled on his favorite cushion, joystick at hand. “I told you I’m way ahead with my work.” He handed him the other joystick with a sickening grin. “In fact, you could say I’m on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?”
Yaku struck him with what he hoped was the deadliest of his glares, grabbing the controller. “You’re lucky this console is borrowed because I wouldn’t hesitate to throw it at your face otherwise.”
Fast forward half an hour, and Yaku was absolutely destroying Kuroo at Mario Kart. He just couldn’t seem to stop cackling as the scowl on the other’s face grew deeper at every match. “Dude, you suck at this.”
Kuroo made sure to scoff as loudly as possible, the sore loser, but his lips still curved into a sly smile as he nudged him in the side. “Shut it! Play again.”
Yaku didn’t even try to hide his devilish grin. “If you insist on getting your ass kicked.”
A few seconds later, his attention was back on the screen as he watched his Toad race through the obstacles, already picturing the sweet taste of victory.
Except just a little before he ended his last lap, something lay on his thigh, just under the hem of his pajama shorts.
In the span of a slow, excruciating instant, his brain simply glitched.
And as soon as his eyes left the circuit to stare at the very warm, very big hand caressing his naked skin, that very hand moved in a blur to tear the joystick off his fingers and hold it as far from him as possible.
“Hey! What the hell-”
Yaku wasn’t sure how Kuroo was even piloting his stupid Waluigi with just one hand on his controller, but he wasn’t about to lose to a cheap trick like that.
“You cheater!” He shrieked as he threw himself at the taller, climbing on his lap to hopefully impede his view of the screen while he reached for the stolen device in his hand. Stupid Kuroo and his stupid long arms.
In a moment, they were rolling on the floor, struggling to breathe as they both laughed out loud, wrestling for the control of the joysticks. From there on, it all happened too quickly; the fight somehow turned into tickling, and maybe he should’ve seen it all coming.
“Wait! Wait, please. Time out! Please” he finally begged, grasping the other’s wrists, eyes tearing up from laughing too hard. Kuroo’s eyes mirrored his own, a blinding smile on his face as he went limp on the floor with one last exhausted chuckle.
With the silence came the awareness of just how close their faces were.
Right there and right then, Yaku lying on top of Kuroo, noses accidentally brushing, his eyes staring into bright golden ones, he couldn’t help but think that it would’ve been so, so easy to close the distance between their lips.
Wait. What?
“Morisuke,” Kuroo whispered, and Yaku’s breath caught on his throat.
He sank his quickly reddening face in the front of Kuroo’s t-shirt. For a terrifying second, he thought the other might have read his flustered thoughts in his eyes.
Then, strong arms wrapped around his waist. A warm, comforting feeling spread across his chest and Yaku found he could breathe again.
After what seemed like ages, or might’ve just been one minute, Kuroo spoke in a soft voice. “Thank you for playing with me.”
There was something raw, almost vulnerable, in Kuroo’s words that he couldn’t quite place.
They hugged for some more time before saying goodnight.
7) He hated it when he sulked.
did anything happen with kuroo??
kenma : and ur asking us because?
‘cause he’s been moping around all day and he won’t talk to me ?
tora : oh so that’s why u 2 aren’t being as insufferable as usual in the gc
bokuto : yea i almost miss their shameless flirting *____________*
??? flirting ??
who’s flirting
i’m flirting ?
with KUROO ?
akaashi : u have been married for like 2 years but thanks for noticing
kuroo : i’m not moping around !!!!!!!!
i literally cannot stand any of u kuroo open your door.
akaashi : there they go.
kai : u think they’re ever going to realize?
akaashi : absolutely not.
kenma : give them another 3 years
The lock of Kuroo’s door clicked. That was his cue; Yaku barged in the other’s bedroom, finding him wrapped up in his bed, dark hair even messier than usual.
“Okay, why are you sulking?”
A long, dramatic sigh. “I’m not sulking.”
Outraged, Yaku pointed an accusing finger. “Bullshit! This is the seventh sigh in the past hour, I’ve counted. And I don’t know what’s going on, but I know how you get when you start overthinking things -”
“Would you stop psychoanalyzing me? You don’t even take psychology -”
“Shut up.” Yaku approached the bed, tugging the sheets down to reveal Kuroo’s pout. God, he’s such a baby. “This isn’t your fucked-up-my-exam kind of moping, and it’s not the life-is-meaningless sort of existential whining either, so I’m not sure what’s wrong,” he paused shortly to catch his breath. “And it’s cool if you don’t wanna talk about it but please, don’t close yourself off again.” He leaned forward to deliver a harmless punch to the other’s shoulder, for good measure. “What I’m trying to say is, stop trying to deal with everything on your own like an idiot.”
The dark-haired boy peeped at him from the corner of his eye for a few seconds, a conflicted look on his face. “Geez, okay, mom,” he grumbled in the end, but there was no bite to it. In fact, if Yaku didn’t know better, he’d say he looked flustered.
It was almost… cute. (Too cute, even. Seriously, an oversized man with the dumbest of haircuts like him had no business being that cute.)
When long arms wrapped him in a tight hug, he didn’t try to break free, quickly dismissing the awkward feeling in his chest. Kuroo’s whisper in his ear was so quiet he almost missed it. “Thank you. I needed that.”
“So,” Yaku tried his best to hide the soft grin blooming on his lips. “What are your plans for the day?”
And because Kuroo was Kuroo, he grabbed the opportunity in front of him with both hands. “Are you my homework? ‘Cause I’m not doing you but I definitely should be.”
It was Yaku’s turn to sigh as he disentangled himself from the taller’s lengthy limbs. “Of course you had to go and ruin the moment.”
“So you admit we were having a moment?”
For one exhilarating moment, he couldn’t help but think that Kuroo’s smile was nothing short of gorgeous.
8) He hated that he kissed him like he mattered.
The first time it happened, it was a game night. After five passionate games of Clues, it was eventually time for them to take a leave from Suga, Daichi, and Asahi’s shared apartment. (Yaku had managed to secure the character of Professor Plum for himself in spite of his roommate’s insistent complaints. He’d always thought Kuroo suited Miss Scarlett better, anyway.) It was nearly two in the morning when they waved Bokuto and Kai goodbye and finally headed home.
The two of them walked in silence, the kind of comfortable quiet one can only enjoy after a long night of chitter-chatter, the noise still buzzing in Yaku’s ears slowly fading and the adrenaline from the games gradually leaving his body at each step he takes towards his cherished bed.
They’d already reached the bottom of the stony flight of stairs just outside their apartment complex when Kuroo finally spoke.
“You know,” he started, but never continued. Yaku, who’d already walked up the first step of the stairwell, turned around to inquire, but the words died in his throat.
From his position one step above him, Yaku didn’t need to twist his neck to meet Kuroo’s eyes. By chance, his screwy raven fringe had diverted from its usual path, parting slightly to reveal Kuroo’s undisguised gaze. Under the moonlight, he could swear his iris shone as if gold-plated. Kuroo was staring at him, soft and straightforward, mouth slightly parted in confusion, or maybe awe. There was no trace of malice or feigned arrogance, none of the usual layer of compulsory conceit.
When he talked, at last, Kuroo’s voice was barely above a whisper. “The moon looks good on you.”
The morning after, Yaku would wish he could blame their ensuing actions on the alcohol if only he didn’t know for sure that they’d both barely had a beer each. He struggled to register the moments following Kuroo’s words, just that he couldn’t breathe, then suddenly he could, and then again his hands were deep in Kuroo’s hair and eager lips crashed into his. Careful hands laid on his hips, but Yaku needed more, more contact, more tongue, just more of it all, whatever ‘it’ was, and he pulled Kuroo closer, parting his mouth in an unambiguous invitation to deepen the kiss.
Mere minutes later, Yaku was being pushed against the wall of the elevator leading up to their apartment complex, scorching-hot lips tracing a path down his exposed throat as his own fingers felt the muscles of Kuroo’s shoulders through the fabric of his t-shirt. Kuroo’s mouth didn’t leave him even as they stumbled through the entrance door. A soft whine escaped his lips when the both of them finally crashed on the couch in a tangled mess.
When they woke up the next morning, neither of them mentioned the one too many red spots on Yaku’s collarbone. Kuroo made eggs and Yaku read on the sofa. Almost too naturally, they went back to their routine like nothing had happened, except everything had happened, and locking lips was suddenly part of that routine, too.
There were days when Kuroo sat beside him without a word and stared at the ceiling for a while. Yaku always peeped at him for a couple of minutes, taking in the unconscious pout of his lips before leaning into his space and planting a quick peck on them. Then he went back to his books, and Kuroo got up again and walked back to his room like a child who just won his favorite candy.
Then there were the days when Yaku’s stress was overbearing and Kuroo sat down for a little longer, patiently waiting for him to give up on revising to eventually drag him into slower, deeper kisses, gentle hands tracing his sides and stiff shoulders and encouraging him to unwind.
And because Yaku was a natural at overthinking, he couldn’t help but wonder how they even got there. Was it just kissing? Sure, it helped considerably in releasing their pent-up frustration, but was it just that?
Thank you for playing with me. It had been weeks, but Kuroo’s words still haunted his thoughts. What had he meant by that? Was it about Mario Kart? Was it about that long, awkward, tension-filled moment when Yaku first realized that, oh, shit, Kuroo’s lips were just so pretty?
Was it all just a game to him?
Thousands of questions crowded his mind even as he sat on Kuroo’s lap that evening, history books carelessly abandoned on the floor, lips casually brushing the other’s once every few seconds. His hands hovered purposelessly on the other’s chest.
Kuroo must’ve sensed his inner state of distress because Yaku could feel attentive eyes following each of his movements. Then, long fingers squeezed his sides.
“There’s someone I like.”
It took Yaku’s brain a good dozen of seconds to process Kuroo’s words.
Oh.
“I see," It took another good minute for his reflexes to answer his brain. "Huh.”
Kuroo liked someone else; the game was over.
He sported the most neutral expression he could muster. “Well,” Yaku finally managed to stumble away from Kuroo’s legs, eyes springing away from the man on the couch to settle on the wall as he forced the words out of his mouth. “I guess we - we shouldn’t be doing this anymore, then.”
He didn’t have the balls to look at Kuroo’s reaction as he gulped the hurt down his throat and swayed towards his bedroom.
9) If there was anything he hated more than Kuroo kissing him, it was Kuroo not kissing him anymore.
He knew Kuroo liked to fool around.
That’s just what it was, really. All the jokes, all the mocking, all the - if he had to borrow Bokuto’s words - flirting, were nothing but that. Fooling around.
Looked like Yaku was the fool in the end because as it turns out, he had deluded himself into believing that there was just a little bit of truth behind the joke.
The worst part was that it wasn’t just about the kissing - or worse, the feelings he was just starting to figure out.
It was everything else, too. Kuroo stopped kissing him and stopped texting him and stopped calling him tiny. He stopped patting him in the head and he stopped walking around shirtless. To be fair, he stopped walking around in general; he spent all his time locked up in his room, going so far as bailing on game night for the first time in forever.
Yaku just wished he understood where he went wrong.
(Kuroo stopped talking to him, but he still left a second plate of eggs on the kitchen table every morning.)
10) He hated that he liked him so much.
It had barely been a week, but he couldn’t take it anymore. Yaku was confident enough to bestow himself with many virtues, but patience had never been one of them; all the words left unspoken were eating him alive and something had to be done before the din of his roaring thoughts tore him apart at the seams.
It was time to tackle the issue - quite literally. As soon as Kuroo finally slipped out of his bedroom that morning, the shorter didn’t hesitate to corner him against the counter, a determined look on his face - or what he hoped was a determined look, anyway.
“You know I hate beating around the bush, so I’m gonna get straight to the point, and you’re gonna listen.”
“I-” The taller inhaled sharply, his eyes darting cluelessly around the room. Yaku waited in silence for the other to give him a sign. Kuroo’s features eventually settled on a resigned expression. “Okay, sure. Let’s get it over with,” he sighed weakly.
Yaku took a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable. He’d gotten this far; now it was time to spit out whatever he’d succeeded to put together in a long week of silence treatment.
“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I ruined everything. We’ve been getting along a lot better and we’ve gotten so close but I just had to go and get a stupid crush on you at the worst possible time, but you’re just so - so wholesome. Frankly, it’s kind of your fault in the first place for being way too nice to me - and then you started kissing me out of nowhere, how the heck was I supposed not to fall for that? To be completely honest, don’t you dare tell anyone I said this, but you’re one hell of a kisser -”
“Stop. Pause.”
As he halted to catch a breath, Yaku figured he wasn’t doing too well, because the other looked mildly appalled. Terrified, even.
“A crush?” Kuroo barely managed to splutter, evidently taken aback, a finger pointing to his own face. “On me?”
Yaku bit his lip, unconsciously waving his hands around in small, purposeless circles as he tried his best to make sense of his thoughts. “I get it, you like someone already -”
“Yaku.”
“- But I really needed to get that off my chest, so you can ignore that now and we can go back to -”
“Morisuke." He was cut off by Kuroo grabbing his shoulders, his piercing gaze freezing him in place. "It’s you. You’re the one that I like.”
Yaku blinked once.
He sucked in a breath.
He blinked twice.
He punched the other straight in the chest. “Idiot. What the hell? You should’ve told me!”
He’d been ready for the dismay, for the disappointment, for the rejection, for every possible scenario he’d managed to draw up in hours and hours of overthinking, but nothing could’ve prepared him for the intense warmth spreading across his chest at the speed of a hungry feline jumping on its prey, or for the fluttering of his helpless heart as he tried to get a grasp on the events fumbling in front of him. You’re the one that I like. Did he just dream that?
“I tried to tell you! But you went all oh, we shouldn’t kiss anymore! Dramatic ass!”
Now, that was definitely real. The Kuroo in his dreams couldn’t possibly be that annoying.
“I don’t even talk like that!”
“I don’t even talk like that!”
Maybe Yaku would’ve taken offense at Kuroo’s stupid mock tone if he hadn’t been so amused by just how ridiculous the two of them might have looked to an outsider, bickering like five-year-olds, clumsy hands at each other’s throats right after makeshift love confessions.
And because he was impatient, eager, and a tad bit smitten, he pulled at the front of Kuroo’s t-shirt and finally smashed their lips together.
(A lazy make-out session against the kitchen counter and a cup of tea later, Yaku’s remaining brain cells gathered enough sanity to formulate a question.
“Wait. Since when?”
“Oh, you’ve had me wrapped around your cute little finger since forever,” Kuroo planted a kiss on Yaku’s exposed collarbone, earning an uninhibited sigh from the shorter. “But if I had to pinpoint a particular moment,” His smirk was more frustrating than ever. “It was when you shut me up using the periodic table. God, that was hot.”
“Freakin’ nerd.”)
+ 1
Kuroo outright chuckled while sticking the handwritten list to the fridge. “I call bullshit on point 2, by the way. I know for a fact that you adore my ridiculous jokes.”
Yaku didn’t bother raising his eyes from the Modern Literature textbook in his hands. “Tetsurou, you must be a tower.”
The taller raised a perplexed eyebrow at his boyfriend. “What?”
“Because Eiffel for you.”
Judging solely from the sound of him choking on his coffee, it wouldn’t be just a metaphor to say Kuroo’s soul left his body.
Yaku had an infinity of reasons to hate his roommate.
Turns out he loved him a little more for each and every one of them.