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Kenma clenched his fists, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands as he stared into the mirror. It wasn’t like he’d ever been exactly happy with the way he looked but, when Kuroo had been around to look out for him, his appearance hadn’t bothered him so much. Or maybe he’d just tried not to think about it, his long hair a protective shield that pretty much covered his face most of the time anyway. He knew his hair made him stand out and he’d always suspected people talked about it behind his back, but Kuroo had always been there by his side whenever the intrusive thoughts had begun to gather momentum, ready and waiting to offer the gentle reassurance that he knew Kenma needed to ground him. And anyway, nobody would ever have dared say anything to him when Kuroo was there.
But Kuroo wasn’t here anymore. Or rather, he was but he wasn’t here to protect Kenma at school. Not that he should have needed protecting. He hated himself even more for that. He’d always imagined he’d be different when he reached third year, that he’d suddenly gain enough confidence for him to be able to deal with the sarcastic comments and underhand bullying that had been directed at him ever since he could remember. He’d never thought he’d still be like this, so quiet and insecure, his thoughts dominated by fear of what other people thought of him. Yet here he was, no different than he had been when he’d first met Kuroo all those years ago. Worse, if anything, since in the last few months he’d seemed to lose the last remaining shreds of self confidence to the point he was barely able to look in the mirror anymore. Not without crying at least.
“Don’t you think you’d feel more comfortable on the girls’ volleyball team, Kenma-chan.”
“Even with that hair of yours you can’t hide that cute little face, Kenma-chan.”
There they were again, running round and round in his head as though they were stuck on loop. Those words. Spoken softly and with a smile that was anything but friendly. Innocent enough perhaps on the surface but laced with so much malice that Kenma had been surprised he’d managed to fight the resulting panic attack long enough to even make it home. It wasn’t the first time he’d heard them in recent weeks but they’d definitely hurt more this time, the rawkus laughter that accompanied them like hundreds of tiny daggers aimed straight at his chest.
“You make such a pretty little girl, Kenma-chan.”
“Are you sure you’re a boy, Kenma-chan? People are starting to talk…”
It was always the same voices, only three of them though it felt like the entire school was staring at him and nodding in agreement. He didn’t even know who these people were, or why they’d started singling him out all of a sudden. He was pretty sure he hadn’t done anything different to make them notice him. In fact, he’d always made a concerted effort to make sure people didn’t notice him- that was the whole point. He didn’t really even talk to anyone at school other than the guys on the volleyball team, so he thought it very unlikely he’d managed to piss anyone off enough to make them hate him this much. Not that the reasons behind it mattered anyway. Because once they’d started they hadn’t stopped, their comments becoming more hurtful with each passing day, finding his weak spots and twisting the knife until they broke him.
And maybe he should have confided in someone. Maybe he should have told someone what they were saying, how awful they were making him feel. How bad the panic attacks were getting. How he was beginning to dread waking up each morning and having to drag himself into school. But he’d kept it all to himself and he still wasn’t sure why. It wasn’t as though he didn’t have people he trusted. Lev had classes just down the hall and he had lunch with Yamamoto a couple of times a week. He saw the rest of the team almost daily at practise. Shoyo texted him multiple times a day too and was always begging to come and visit. And then there was Kuroo, who he was pretty sure he trusted with his life and who would be beyond devastated to know all this had been happening and Kenma hadn’t felt able to talk to him about it.
“Fuck…” he murmured to himself, unclenching his fists just long enough for him to run his hands through his hair. Kuroo had been so busy with university stuff recently that he hadn’t had time to cut it for him, and Kenma still couldn’t bear the thought of anyone else touching him. So it was longer than it had ever been and definitely more untidy, the bleached sections so dry they felt like straw and dark roots reaching almost to the tops of his ears. It was no wonder people were laughing at him…
“Kenma-chan, Kenma-chan, Kenma-chan..”
Kenma’s mind replayed the words over and over, the knot in his stomach pushing upwards into his chest until he retched, sure he was going to vomit, hands on his knees as he bent forwards. But there was only burning in his lungs and an unrelenting sensation of nausea that he couldn’t shift however hard he tried.
He didn’t want to call Kuroo, he really didn’t. Not because he didn’t want to talk to him because he did. He was actually desperate to hear his voice, calm and steady and reassuring as he talked him down from the panic attack that he could feel building to dangerous heights. But he knew even Kuroo, patient though he’d always been with him, wouldn’t be able to put up with this forever. He knew how much Kuroo already worried about him, and he didn’t blame him. He couldn’t. He was pathetic and even just being around him when he was like this was exhausting. And he didn’t want to give Kuroo any more excuses to leave him. Not yet. Not now. Not when he needed him more than ever.
“Come on, Kenma,” he muttered, gritting his teeth as his eyes settled on his phone. “Just fucking call him…” He barely recognised his own voice, choked and breathy and trembling as he grabbed the phone, hitting speed-dial before he could talk himself out of it. No answer. He called again, his heart racing faster and his breathing more laboured. No answer. Again- no answer. Again- no answer. “Fuck fuck fuck,” he breathed, his eyes unable to focus as he scanned through his other contacts. There was nobody else. Only Kuroo. There had only ever been Kuroo.
Kenma’s hands shook as he dropped the phone back onto the table. He was on his own. He had to deal with this on his own. He swallowed, clenching his fists again, willing his brain to focus on the sharp stabbing pain in the palms of his hands as his nails broke through the skin and breathing a sigh of relief at the familiar damp warmth that spread across his fingertips, a sure sign that he’d finally pressed hard enough to draw blood. He knew Kuroo would be angry at him when he saw the state of his hands. He knew he’d lecture him about how he had a responsibility to his team to keep his hands in good working order. He knew he’d tell him, just as he always did, that it wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism. Which he knew anyway. Of course he knew that. But it was the only thing that had any chance of working when he was this deep into a panic attack. Or rather, it was the only thing other than Kuroo that had any chance of getting him out of it. And Kuroo wasn’t answering his phone. So it wasn’t like he had any other choice...
And anyway, he must have left it too late because this time even his usual guaranteed way out didn’t seem to be working. He could hear his breathing becoming more rapid, more shallow, tiny clouds of misty air settling on the mirror and blurring his reflection. He could feel every muscle in his body tensing up, his throat and lungs becoming tighter as though someone had wrapped their hands around his neck and squeezed. He could see his own panic mirrored in his reflection, red swollen eyes wide and glistening as he panted for breath. And he could taste the salty tears travelling along well-trodden pathways of silver streaks until they dripped from his chin onto his knees. He knew it was happening but he couldn’t stop it. This time maybe he really was broken.
“Are you sure you’re a boy, Kenma-chan? People are starting to talk…”
He ran his hands through his hair again in disgust, wrapping his fingers around a thick section of his bangs and giving them a hard tug. Hadn’t Yamamoto told him ages ago that his hair would make him stand out? Hadn’t he practically warned him that keeping his hair long would make him a target?? But Kenma hadn’t listened. He’d been too stubborn, just like he always was, so it was his own fault that this was happening. But if their only problem with him was that he looked like a girl, that was easily fixable. He could change all that in just a few minutes. All he needed was…
Kenma pulled open the drawer next to the mirror, his breathing quick and shallow and unsteady as he rummaged around, eyes desperately searching for the one thing that he knew could make this all go away.
“Yes…” He felt his heart jump in his chest as he pulled out the scissors, the blade glinting as it caught the few rays of afternoon sunlight that he’d allowed to creep into his bedroom. He’d known they’d be here somewhere, carefully packed away after the last time he’d let Kuroo cut his hair. He took one last look at his reflection, the scissors in one hand and a clump of hair in the other. He’d regret this, maybe. Probably. But he needed it gone. He needed it all gone. He’d only kept his hair long because he’d thought it would help his anxiety, thought that by narrowing his field of vision he’d be able to tune out the world around him. But it clearly hadn’t worked. He was a disgusting mess and he needed to fix it, and this was the only way.
Kenma took a deep breath, holding out a section of hair just above his ear and bringing the scissors close to his scalp. He jammed his eyes shut as he closed the blades around the hair, shivering slightly at the sound the scissors made as they cut cleanly through. He kept his eyes closed as he continued to cut, working more quickly now to grab large clumps of hair and cut them off, feeling around with his hands to make sure he got it all. He couldn’t watch this happening. He didn’t even want to think about how bad he looked right now, his hair probably an uneven mess, loose strands clinging to his tear-stained cheeks, eyes puffy and nose red and swollen. He hated to think what Kuroo’s reaction would be but it was too late now. He had to do this. It was the only way they’d leave him alone.
He continued hacking away, his breathing ragged and desperate, the scissors moving closer to his scalp with each cut. He was so lost in his panic that he didn’t even register Kuroo’s presence until he felt strong arms wrap around his upper body, enveloping him in a warm hug that only made him sob harder.
“What… What are you doing? Kenma? Stop. Please… Just stop...” Kuroo pressed his chest against Kenma’s back, pinning his arms to his sides and grabbing hold of his hand to prise open his fingers. His skin was hot and sweaty and his palm was covered in short strands of hair that tickled and irritated him but Kuroo didn’t seem to care, taking his hand in his gently and whispering into his ear. “You need to let go of these, baby. You’re going to hurt yourself.” Kuroo eased the scissors out of his grasp, leaving him to collapse against his chest with a whimper, too exhausted to argue. He could still barely breathe but Kuroo was here now, so everything was going to be okay. He was always okay when Kuroo was here.
“What did you do?” Kuroo mumbled, pressing his chin to the top of Kenma’s head and tightening his grip. “What the fuck did you do baby?”
“I’m so sorry, Kuro,” Kenma gasped, words creeping out between hiccups. He peered up at Kuroo who looked at him reassuringly, his smile unable to fully hide the confusion and concern behind his eyes. Kenma automatically reached one hand up to brush his hair out of his face, breaking down again when it came into contact with the short, rough spikes above his ear, barely long enough for him to grip hold of let alone to tuck behind his ear like he normally did. “Shit, Kuro. I fucked up. I really fucked up. Please don’t hate me. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” He flopped against Kuroo again, wrapping his arms around his waist and burying his face in his chest, unable to stop the flood of tears that didn’t seem to be showing any sign of stopping any time soon.
“Shh baby, it’s okay,” Kuroo soothed, dropping a kiss to the top of his head. “I could never hate you.” Kenma felt Kuroo’s hands run comfortingly over his back, tracing circles in slow, rhythmic movements, and he shivered, clinging to him even more tightly as though he was afraid he would change his mind and get up and leave at any moment. As if reading his mind, Kuroo spoke again, his voice even softer than usual. “I’m not even mad, I promise. It’s all gonna be okay.”
Kenma wasn’t sure how long he sat there, his breathing slowly returning to normal as Kuroo stroked his back. Eventually Kuroo shifted, pulling back and taking Kenma’s face in his hands, his fingers brushing away the mixture of tears and hair that clung to the skin under his eyes. “If you wanted a haircut that badly, you could have just asked me you know?” Kuroo smiled, reaching up and letting his hand run over the top of Kenma’s head.
“I didn’t,” Kenma mumbled, his cheeks flushing red as he glanced down at the floor. Wow, he’d really made a mess. He hadn’t quite realised how much hair he’d cut, but the blonde clumps of varying lengths that were now scattered all over his bedroom carpet meant he couldn’t avoid it anymore. He twisted an arm free from Kuroo’s embrace and touched his head self consciously. “Fuck,” he muttered, blushing again and biting his lower lip. He hadn’t meant to cut it quite this short but there was nothing he could do about it now.
“Hey…” Kuroo laughed softly, putting his thumb under Kenma’s chin and tilting his head up. “Look at me baby.” He smiled again, letting his hand settle on the back of Kenma’s neck, his fingers tugging gently on the short strands at his nape. “It’s not even that bad.”
“Yeah?” Kenma replied hopefully, his teeth still worrying at his lower lip. He turned to face the mirror, his heart somersaulting in his chest when he caught sight of his reflection. He covered his mouth with his hand to hide his gasp, blinking quickly in an attempt to stop a fresh river of tears from pouring out of his eyes and streaming down his face. Because his hair, or what was left of it at least, looked horrific. It was super short and uneven and he looked even worse than he could have imagined, black spikes sticking up at all angles. Fuck- in some places he’d even managed to cut it so short he could practically see his scalp. “Shit… Kuro…” His voice trembled and he reached out a hand behind him, willing Kuroo to take hold of it and stop another panic attack from taking hold.
“Don’t cry baby.” Kuroo squeezed his hand and crouched down beside him, his eyes meeting his in the mirror. He paused to take in Kenma’s appearance, his expression never changing from one of calm reassurance. Eventually he spoke again, running his hands through his own hair and turning to face Kenma. “It’s actually kind of cute,” he laughed. “When you get used to it…”
“It’s not,” Kenma mumbled, yanking the hair above his ear as though he hoped pulling on it would make it grow faster. “I look shitty…”
“You could never!” Kuroo looked at him so earnestly that Kenma felt himself falling in love with him over again. “And anyway,” Kuroo got to his feet and moved to stand behind Kenma, placing his hands on his shoulders. He looked at him in the mirror again before looking down at his hair, his forehead furrowed in concentration as though he was trying to decide what to do. “I can fix this up for you, make it all the same length at least.” He combed his hand over the top of Kenma’s head, laughing to himself as his fingers came into contact with a particularly short section near the front of his head. “It’s gonna end up pretty fucking short though baby, so don’t get mad at me, okay?”
“Okay…” Kenma lowered his head, not wanting to look at himself any longer than he had to. He couldn’t bear to think about how short it was going to be by the time Kuroo was finished with it, but he couldn’t leave it like this.
“Kenma…” Kuroo started, his hands leaving his shoulders as he came to kneel down beside him again. “Are you gonna tell me why you did this? I know something happened today.” He swallowed, taking Kenma’s hands in his and squeezing gently. “I had like seven missed calls from you, and I tried to call you back but you weren’t answering. I was so worried about you baby.” He smiled, his hand moving to the side of Kenma’s face and stroking the hair above his ear. “It’s a good thing you gave me that key last time or I wouldn’t have been able to get in at all.” Kenma nodded. He was glad he’d had the foresight to get a key made for him too. Last time he’d had a panic attack, a really bad one- nearly as bad as today’s- Kuroo hadn’t been able to get in touch with him at all and things had really escalated. By the time his parents had got home from work, Kenma had been curled up in a ball in the bath with the shower running at full power, clothes wet and hair plastered to his face, trembling uncontrollably and unable to find the words to voice what had happened. After that, he and Kuroo had both agreed that Kuroo needed a way to get to him when he became unresponsive, and he was so grateful for that decision. “You can tell me anything. You know that, right?” Kuroo looked at him so sadly that Kenma almost started crying all over again.
“They keep saying I look like a girl…” He held back another sob, running his hands over his head and wiping his eyes. “They were saying it over and over again and I couldn’t take it anymore.”
“They? What do you mean they?” Kuroo frowned again and nudged Kenma’s knee in an attempt to get him to look at him. “Are they being dicks again, Kenma? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“Didn’t want to bother you,” he murmured softly, shaking his head. He felt like an idiot now because of course Kuroo wouldn’t ever have thought he was bothering him. Kuroo loved him, that was obvious, not just to him but to anybody who ever spent more than 5 minutes with them. It was just hard to remember that sometimes when he wasn’t here.
“But you know how much I love you, right?” Kenma nodded, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. “So you have to tell me when this shit happens… I need you to do that next time, Kenma, okay?”
Kenma nodded again, looking up this time and giving Kuroo a small smile.
Kuroo laughed again, reaching out to ruffle what was left of Kenma’s hair. “Well I guess nobody’s gonna be calling you a girl for a while!” He dropped a kiss on the tip of Kenma’s nose before embracing him in another tight hug. “Should I finish this off?” He gestured towards Kenma’s head, grabbing the scissors and getting to his feet without even waiting for a response. He looked at Kenma thoughtfully, taking hold of a section of hair and measuring it against the section beside it. “You’re still so fucking beautiful, baby. I hope you know that.”
Kenma didn’t believe him but he loved him for saying it. And if Kuroo thought that it didn’t really matter what anybody else thought.
“I love you Kuro.” Kenma looked at him through the mirror, his smile more genuine now. Because it was true. He loved him and Kuroo loved him back and that was why everything was always okay.