Archive of Our Own

There had been a moment, months ago, when Kuroo thought they would be something more.

He was performing that night, and Kenma had promised to come to the show. He had caught sight of him in the crowd, the imperfect dye of his hair, arms folded over his chest as he tried not to be jostled by strangers. 

Kuroo had smiled, winked, and let the chorus coil out of his throat, thick like vinegar. The low thrum of Akaashi’s bass and Bokuto’s sharp drum rolls bolstered him on either side, and Kenma held his gaze. 

By the time he slid off the stage, drenched in a sheen of sweat and smiling wide, Kenma was waiting for him in their usual spot. 

“Well?” Kuroo said, laughing when Kenma just shrugged. He was always grateful when his friend showed up to gigs, especially those that were later at night and out of the way. It meant something, seeing him there. It made Kuroo better.

“You guys are good,” Kenma said. “You know that.”

“It’s nice to hear it, though,” Kuroo said, and he caught something, then, in Kenma’s face, that made his heart drop. “We weren’t expecting you, tonight.”

“Yeah. I wanted to see you guys.”

Kuroo smiled, warmth pooling in his chest. 

“How was work?” He threw his guitar over his shoulder and looped his arm around Kenma’s frame, low and casual even as pulling Kenma to his side made his heartbeat quicken. 

“I got a promotion.”

The night air chilled the sweat still clinging to Kuroo’s skin, his brow, and he breathed out in relief as they stepped through the doors and began to head home. 

“Really? That’s great.”

He tried to catch Kenma’s eye, but the other man had ducked his head. 

“Really, Kenma,” he said, squeezing his friend’s arm. “You deserve—”

“It’s in Tokyo.”

“—it. What?”

“It’s in Tokyo.”

“What?” Kuroo said again, his feet freezing to the spot. Kenma kept walking, pulling out of his embrace. When he was a few steps ahead, he turned to look Kuroo in the eye. 

“I’m going to take it.”

“Kenma, that’s huge, but— are you sure?”

Kenma was watching him, now, his gaze steady. Kuroo shifted under his golden stare. 

“You guys are always talking about how you want to go to Tokyo, and I don’t know if I’ll get a chance like this again.”

“How… so you would leave, like that? When?”

Kenma looked away, and Kuroo knew the answer. 

“Kuroo,” Kenma said, voice soft and weightless against the sounds of quiet Sendai. “I thought you would follow me.”

And Kuroo had thought he would be braver than this. He’d always thought he was so much braver than he really was. 

He wanted to tell Kenma everything, in that moment. How it had always been his dream to go to Tokyo, yes, but he had wanted to do it with Kenma at his side, a fixed position, the place where he’d always been. 

Bokuto was always telling him that he relied too much on Kenma always being there. But he’d never seen it until now, until Kenma was moving on without him. 

Kuroo grit his teeth. He may have been a lot of things, and selfish was one of them, but he couldn’t let his vices slip out now. Not to ruin Kenma. 

“I would,” he said, his voice catching. “Kenma, I will. I’m glad for you.”

Kenma was closer now, but Kuroo wasn’t sure how. Had he stepped in, or had Kenma? Either way he was close enough to touch, perfect round face and sharp eyes, sharp enough to cut. 

Kuroo reached out and pulled him in for a hug. 

“Good,” Kenma said, and his voice was muffled, but Kuroo could feel him in his chest. “Don’t take too long.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easily,” Kuroo said, and because he was really, really a coward, he brought his hand to Kenma’s head and ruffled his hair. 

Kenma pushed him, then, smile on his lips, his laugh bright and brilliant and something that Kuroo would miss like it was a part of him. 

“When do you leave, Kenma?” He asked again, as they resumed their walk. And Kenma answered this time, and the next question rang in Kuroo’s skull, How long will you be gone?

But he knew that would be an unfair question. 

Kenma had been brave, and now it was up to Kuroo to follow in his footsteps.

Kenma and Kuroo were always together, until they were apart.

They had always been a twin pair of opposites, reading each other’s needs and reacting in turn. Their friends loved to poke fun of their relationship, much to Kenma’s infinite frustration. 

Bokuto liked to call them platonic soulmates, a word that Akaashi had obviously had to teach him, and Kuroo would laugh and pretend that there was something more that they were all missing, Kenma in his arms and on his lap and all of those moments taking up space in Kenma’s heart. 

It had even fooled many people, newcomers to their friendship who asked if they were dating, met with Kuroo wagging his eyebrows suggestively and Kenma rolling his eyes in response. 

Kenma hated it, fear creeping in his heart that they must all see , how desperately he craved Kuroo’s attention and affection. He had learned early on how to school his expression, an affected uncaring, and the thought of anyone seeing through that woke him up some nights. 

He had thought he hated it, until Kuroo was no longer at his side. 

The city was loud and chaotic, and it made him miss Kuroo, miss Bokuto and Akaashi, mirror images of the vibrant life of Tokyo. 

Kenma was achingly, desperately lonely in Tokyo. He spent a significant portion of his bonus checks and pay raises on train fare back to Sendai. He would sleep on Kuroo’s couch and wake up to the smell of rich black coffee and Kuroo’s deep laughter. And then, he would walk to the station, fall asleep on the train, and wake up again in Tokyo, his horrible, dry, friendless existence. 

Friendless and lonely, until the day he met Hinata Shouyou. 

Kenma’s promotion also came with his own office, a team of developers that he still hesitated to bark orders at. It was for that reason he avoided giving them mundane tasks, which meant he spent a good part of his day acting as his own assistant, much to the frustration of his actual assistant, one Lev Haiba. 

It was on one of his trips down to the lobby to find a courier that he met Hinata, who had breezed into his life like a sunbeam, a brilliant energy that literally collided into him. 

“Ow ,” he said, dazed and blinking up at the other man, the one who had hit him at full speed. 

“I am, oh my god,” the man was saying, grabbing at Kenma’s hands and pulling him up roughly. “I am so sorry.”

Kenma was usually quiet, especially when faced with strangers, and especially when those strangers had done nothing to prove themselves worthy of his attention. In this circumstance, though, the other man didn’t even give him a chance to reply.

“Are you okay?” The man continued, and then, to Kenma’s horror, he began to brush nonexistent dust from Kenma, running his hands down his shoulders, his chest, and—

“It’s fine,” Kenma said, grabbing the man’s hands before they could go any further. He noticed the bright blue of a courier’s uniform, and held out his stack of mail. “It will be better once you deliver this for me.”

“Sure!” The guy said, and then he was off again, leaving Kenma breathless from the encounter, replaying it in his head and questioning his sanity. 

And then he realized that he recognized the man, distantly, as someone who had played back in Sendai, on the same grimy stages as Kuroo and his band. 

He was a little more prepared for their next meeting. 

The man rapped on his door, letting Kenma know his mail had been delivered, and Kenma had asked him his name. 

“Hinata Shouyou!” He said brightly, hair almost crimson in the fluorescent lights above them. 

“Hinata Shouyou,” Kenma repeated, and then the wave of homesickness overcame his anxiety about meeting new people. “Are you from Sendai?”

Hinata’s eyes had brightened, and he’d launched into a story of how he’d come to Tokyo with his band, had picked up this job part-time for the money. And then, he had asked Kenma out to coffee so they could talk more. 

Hinata was a social force to be reckoned with, but he reminded Kenma of Sendai, reminded him of Kuroo, reminded him of home.

He was the reason Kenma didn’t go fleeing back to Sendai, quitting his job and leaving every opportunity behind to go live on Kuroo’s couch, to be a burden trapped in a nebulous relationship. 

Hinata was also the reason Kenma was still in Tokyo when he got a text from Kuroo that read, You asked me once to follow you. I’ll be there soon. 

Kenma, trapped at work, can’t meet them at the station. But Kuroo has had a spare key to Kenma’s apartment since his friend first moved to Tokyo, and so they head right there after disembarking from the train, arms laden with the bare essentials of their life in Sendai. 

Bokuto and Akaashi leave to explore the neighborhood and find dinner, and almost as soon as they have left, the latch turned with a key. 

Kuroo looked up to mock them, wondering if they had already gotten lost, and then Kenma stepped into frame, and Kuroo’s world glowed bright. 

“Kenma,” he said, moving quickly on his feet and facing his friend. Kenma looked a little shaken, small in the frame of the door even though he has grown into himself since they were teens.

The heavy thunk of the door closing behind him seemed to propel Kenma forward, and then he was in Kuroo’s arms. 

“I’m so glad to see you,” Kuroo said, breathing in the citrus tang of Kenma’s hair, which has grown out significantly, even since he last saw him in Sendai. It had been a busy few weeks since the band finally solidified plans to move, and Kenma had insisted that he didn’t want to get in their way, even though they had all protested. 

The weeks, the months, didn’t seem to matter now that Kenma was in his arms. But then, Kenma stepped back, a cautious smile on his face, and he said, “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah, well, we can’t all get miracle offers from our place of employment.”

“I think you’d have to be employed first,” Kenma scoffed. 

“Hey! Who’s the one who got signed to a major studio?” Kuroo protested, nudging his closed fist against Kenma’s upper arm. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

And just like that, the months of separation rushed between them like the flood of a river cutting through a canyon. 

Kenma turned away, moving to one of the suitcases— Bokuto’s— that was overflowing wildly on the floor. “For better or worse,” Kenma grumbled, but Kuroo’s finely tuned ear was able to pick it up. 

Just then, his phone vibrated in his pocket, but before he could move to look at it, Bokuto and Akaashi returned, arms laden with carryout that smelled like curry. The two men cheered when they saw Kenma, one significantly louder than the other, and they swooped him into a hug as well. 

“Thanks for letting us stay here,” Akaashi said, his fingers ruffling Kenma’s hair just above the loosely packed bun. “We’ll be out of your hair before you know it.”

“I don’t mind,” Kenma said, and his eyes slid over to meet Kuroo’s. Kuroo looked away, the screen of his phone flashing brightly in his hand. 

In town this weekend, let’s make dinner plans. Don’t get murdered before then. Oh, and good luck.  

Kuroo’s heart tightened at Kei’s kind of kind words.

Either his boyfriend had really softened him up, or the big guy had had it in him all along. Either way, Kuroo couldn’t help but hope it wouldn’t be long before Kei was here to stay.

It had only been a couple of weeks since Yamaguchi had moved to the city, but it had been long enough for Kuroo to see the sullen look on Kei’s face the few times they’d met at Miyagi Cafe. Now that they were here, too, Kei just had to follow them. 

Kuroo looked back at the scene unfolding in the kitchen, Bokuto dumping thick noodles of curry udon into four separate bowls, Akaashi scolding him for not starting the rice cooker before they left, and Kenma casting glances between the two. 

Then, Kenma’s eyes met Kuroo’s again, and his smile was so soft and gentle on his lips, Kuroo’s gaze dragged right to it. Then, he noticed that Kenma was ushering him over, so he pocketed his phone and began to move. 

He cast one last thought to Kei; he was glad, at least, that his romantic troubles had been sorted out before Yamaguchi left for Tokyo. At least he knew where he stood. At least he knew that he had Yamaguchi, and had him for good.

Kuroo sidled up to Kenma, leaned against the counter behind him. He didn’t use to have doubts, but the months of separation have shaken him. 

Then Kenma turned to look back at him, the smile still curled on his lips. “I’m really glad you’re here,” he said, voice almost lost against the chaos of Bokuto and Akaashi. 

Kuroo smiled back, pressed his chest against the beautiful frame of Kenma’s back, and laughed, hoping that their closeness could chase away his doubts. “Me too.” 

Hinata rapped his knuckles against Kenma’s doorframe, a rhythm Kenma couldn’t place. 

“Hey, Kenma! Are you—” Hinata paused, then said, “What’s wrong? You look different today.”

“No, I…” Kenma chewed his lip. “Nothing’s wrong.”

“Okay! Want to grab a coffee, then?”

Kenma sat back in his chair and saw Hinata studying him, feeling a little unnerved. He had only known Hinata for a little while, but the other man was almost too observant. For all that he acted like an airhead (and may have some of those qualities), he was also one of the more socially aware people Kenma had ever met. 

He was also, as Kenma had found out, in a relationship with two people. If he had some nugget of wisdom to share about love, maybe Kenma needed to hear it. 

“Okay. That sounds good.”

Hinata let out a little cheer and turned quickly on his heel. “Race you downstairs!”

“We don’t have to—” Kenma called, but he knew it was too late. He sighed and pushed the keyboard further up his desk, shuffling some papers around before grabbing his bag and heading for the elevators. 

Hinata was red-cheeked and ruffled when Kenma finally stepped off the elevators and into the main lobby of their office. 

“You’ll never win that way,” Hinata crowed, and Kenma just shrugged. 

“So,” Hinata said, once they had grabbed a coffee and settled into the rickety iron-wrought chairs in the lobby’s cafe. “What’s really going on?”

“Really, I’m good.” Kenma swirled his coffee with the plastic stirrer, watching the foam bubbles burst on the surface of the dark liquid. “Kuroo finally moved to Tokyo.”

“Ooh,” Hinata said, mouth round around the vowel. Then, his eyes popped open and he slapped his palms against the table. “Wait, does that mean Bokuto is here, too? Oh man, that guy is just so cool, the way he—”

Hinata tapped a quick succession of notes against the rim of the table with his fingers, before falling back in his seat. 

“When do I get to meet them?”

“I don’t— I mean, if you want—”

“Wait,” Hinata cut him off. “Kenma, this is a good thing, right? I would think you would be, I don’t know, all blushy and embarrassed that your boyfriend is in town...”

“Oh my god,” Kenma said, his head falling into his hands. “Really, Shouyou, it is not like that—”

“What?” When Kenma glanced up, Hinata looked vaguely crestfallen. “I just thought…”

“I mean,” Kenma said slowly. “You’re not wrong, about my feelings. But you’re wrong about his.”

Hinata’s eyebrows drew close, confusion flashing across his face. 

“Don’t feel bad,” Kenma said. “It’s a frequent misunderstanding. I mean, we live with a couple, so…”

“Wait, so you haven’t been in a long distance relationship? Tadashi said he had talked about it with Tsukishima, that his friends...” 

“No, no,” Kenma said, waving his hands. “I mean… before I left for Tokyo, there was a moment. I don’t know how Kuroo read into it, but… Well, it wouldn’t have been the right time to start something.”

He pushed his coffee further away from him, stomach churning. “And now, I guess it feels like it’s too late.”

“Kenma, if you have feelings for him, you have to tell him!”

“But Shouyou,” Kenma said, his voice tightening in his throat. “I’m so glad to have him back, even as just my friend.”

Hinata’s eyes were flashing, and for a horrific moment, Kenma thought he’d made his friend cry. Even worse, he could feel the emotion building in his own chest, the realizations striking like lightning. 

“Shouyou,” he said again, and his friend was, for once, blessedly silent, stone-faced and listening intently. “I’m so scared to lose him. When he wasn’t in my life, it was terrible, and if I drove him away again, I don’t know what I’d do.”

He flushed, then, realizing how public this conversation was, how he was vocalizing thoughts he didn’t even realize he’d been having. In that moment he envied Hinata and his bright, open nature. 

“Kenma,” Hinata said, after an uncharacteristically long silence. “If he made the first move, would you be with him?”

“I…” Kenma shrugged. “I would. But the fact that he hasn’t , when I’ve seen him hit on things that weren’t even in his field of vision— ”

“Kenma,” Hinata’s voice was gentle, and Kenma didn’t want to hear it. “What if he’s afraid, too? Of losing you?”

Kenma fell silent, but Hinata was more than happy to fill it with his voice. 

“When Kageyama and I realized that… when it became clear that Hitoka would fit into our relationship, that she wanted to as well, we were so afraid of what that would mean for our band. And for a long time, it meant the end of things as they were before.” Hinata’s face was red. “And that wasn’t fair for everyone, and I still feel really bad about it.”

There was a spill on the table, a splotch of coffee that had fallen from one of their cups when Hinata had used the table as a drum set. Hinata ran a finger through the spill, now, trailing a dark pattern against the tin top. 

“But,” Hinata continued, “And it took months, but Tadashi found his way back to us. And we’re all together now, whole again. It might not have been the most direct journey, but we all ended up with who we were meant to be with, and we ended up with each other as well.”

“So… are you saying it will be okay if Kuroo dumps me as a friend, because maybe one day we’ll be together, if it’s destiny?”

Hinata’s eyebrows were low again. “No, the opposite. You have to work to get the things you want, but it’s okay to take that risk.”

Kenma thought about getting called into his boss’s office, telling Kuroo about his promotion, making a leap and moving to Tokyo, alone. 

“Yeah,” he told Hinata, before standing up and pushing in his chair. “But I’ve taken enough risks for a while.”

The first week of living with Kenma, living in Tokyo, crawled by at a pace that mirrored the months they’d spent apart. 

And Kuroo was thankful for their time together, he really was, even when Kenma slunk off to his pitch dark room and Kuroo was left on the couch with Akaashi and Bokuto, the latter’s legs kicked into Kuroo’s lap as Akaashi threaded fingers through his hair. 

When Friday evening came, though, and Kenma slunk into their apartment and made a beeline for his room… Kuroo was prepared. 

“Hey,” he said, throwing an arm across the door frame, stopping Kenma in his tracks. Kenma took it in stride, ducking under to push the door open. 

“Kenma,” Kuroo groaned. “This is important.”

Kenma froze, his face angled sharply upward, inches from Kuroo’s. Kuroo took a step back, lowering his arm from the door. 

“Join us for dinner tonight,” he said. “Kei’s in town, and Yamaguchi is coming too, of course.”

He saw the interest flash in Kenma’s eyes, and held back an exasperated breath. Kei’s special brand of acerbity worked well with Kenma’s, and though they didn’t often hang out together, Kenma never passed up an opportunity to see their friend. With Kei’s boyfriend now in the mix, Kenma’s interest had only seemed to increase. Kuroo bit down on the small flame of jealousy in his stomach as Kenma nodded.

He was still so close to Kuroo, and suddenly moving closer. Kuroo’s heart sped up.

“Okay,” he said, pushing past Kuroo entirely. “Let me know when they get here.”

And then the door closed in Kuroo’s face, extinguishing every nerve of hope that had flared under his skin. 

“Ah,” he said. “Okay, then.”

The doorbell rang not an hour later, Bokuto’s happy exclamation rising up to match it. Kei entered their apartment rolling his eyes, much like he’d entered their life. Yamaguchi trailed behind him, sunbeam in a shadow, carrying a bottle of wine in the crook of his arm. 

Akaashi had made marinated steak and broccoli, the sharp tang of flavors filtering through the small apartment. As they sat around the table, Kenma joining them and moving to Kuroo’s side, Kuroo couldn’t help but feel the warmth of home. 

Kei had never been one for conversation, but that didn’t matter when Bokuto was present. He and Kuroo chatted amiably with their old friend and each other, and surprisingly, even Yamaguchi joined in. The man was Kei’s opposite, soft against his edges, but Kuroo caught the low glow of pride in Kei’s eyes whenever Yamaguchi’s laugh rang out. 

He was happy for his friend, he really was, though his heart was at war still with that creeping sense of jealousy. Kuroo could feel the line of Kenma’s presence at his side, too warm, and not close enough. 

“Kenma,” Yamaguchi said suddenly, turning his smiling face to peer at him. Kuroo felt Kenma glance up from his plate of food in acknowledgment.

“I never knew,” Yamaguchi continued, “that Hinata works at your building! He mentioned to us the other day that he had grabbed coffee with you— thanks for that, by the way, he was jittery all through practice!” 

Kenma shrugged. “He basically ran into me a couple months ago. I recognized him from shows, and was just glad to meet someone else from Sendai.”

Yamaguchi hummed. “Hinata’s good at making people feel welcome. If he ever gets too much, just let me know.” He winked, and Kuroo glanced over quickly at Kenma, catching the blush of red on his face. “I’ll try to keep him in line.”

“I…” Kenma lowered his voice. “I don’t mind. Shouyou’s my friend.”

And that was the first time Kuroo had heard about Hinata being Kenma’s friend. Kenma had mentioned, offhand, that he had run into the redheaded drummer for Kogarasu at work. Kuroo had thought it a funny coincidence, had laughed, but that had been it. 

He wondered why Kenma hadn’t told him it was more than that.

“When will you be in town again, Kei?” Akaashi asked as the two prepared to leave that night, a full stomach and several glasses of wine later. Kuroo watched Kei and Yamaguchi exchange a fraught glance, and regretted that the question had been brought up. 

“Um, I’ll actually be in next weekend.”

“Tsukki, I told you—” Yamaguchi sighed. “He wants to cover the competition that’s coming up… oh! But you should enter too!”

Kuroo watched as Kei shifted against Yamaguchi’s side, Yamaguchi wrapping his arm gently around his waist. Kuroo knew that covering the competition would give Kei a fresh article, a nice pin in his resume, even though he’d heard that the other man had had a few successful interviews. He hoped for good news, soon, for the sake of these two. 

“We’re thinking about it,” he said, feeling Bokuto’s hand come to rest on his shoulder. 

“For sure!” The other man said. “Kogarasu will have to watch out!” 

Yamaguchi’s bright laughter could be heard from the hall. Kuroo turned from the door just in time to see Kenma hurry back to his room, wishing he had the words to call out to keep him at his side. 

Singing came easy to Kuroo, tight chords helped along by the curl of his fingers on his guitar, the pulse at his throat. He knew fancy words and nice melodies, the kind that made an audience fall for them every time. 

Kuroo used to know, too, the words that worked for Kenma. 

But their language had been silence for too long now, and it was taking Kuroo longer than usual to find them. 

It had taken Kenma a while to readjust to his friends living in his small apartment, glad as he was to have them. Akaashi and Bokuto were looking for apartments in between their studio times, and he and Kuroo had always planned to live together, but for now they were all under the same roof. 

He didn’t mind the company, and it was nice to return from work to the sounds of other people, people he had been close to for so long. It was because he knew Bokuto’s laugh, Akaashi’s calm voice, and Kuroo’s firm, reassuring presence, that it didn’t take long for Kenma to realize he was kidding himself by hiding out in his bedroom, and he needed to start actively spending time with them again. 

Kenma was surprised when he came home one evening to find his friends weren’t there. 

The apartment was quiet when he opened the door, an absence of noise where usually pots and pans clanked in the kitchen, or the tv buzzed with the low static of rock documentaries or a sports game. 

It reminded him, too much, of the months of silence he’d spent here, alone. He remembered, just as he had forgotten, what it was like. He knew they would be back, that they had probably just gone into the studio, and tried to remember a distant conversation from yesterday— but he still found himself in the kitchen, leaning against a counter and staring anxiously at the door. 

Luckily, he didn’t have to wait long until someone came through the door, Bokuto and Akaashi’s conversation carrying into the space, bright sound flooding in— and then Kuroo followed through behind them, and Kenma let himself breathe again.

“Hey, Kenma,” Akaashi said, dropping the bag he was carrying on the counter next to Kenma. Observant as ever, he must have seen something filter over Kenma’s face, because he reached out and pinched Kenma’s forearm. “Miss us?”

“Not really,” Kenma almost bit his tongue in his rush to get the words out. “I knew you’d be back.”

He was about to move away, move into the living room, where Kuroo had thrown himself onto the couch, when Bokuto returned from the guest room, grinning as he caught Kenma’s eyes. 

“Hey, hey, hey!” He said, excitement evident in his voice. “Did you hear? Nashonaru Studios wants us to debut in that competition on Friday!” 

“That’s… that’s great!” Kenma paused. “That’s three days away.”

“Yeah, but we got this, right, Akaashi?” The confidence in Bokuto’s face shifted as his eyebrows lowered. “Right , Keiji?”

Akaashi rolled his eyes. “Right, Koutarou.”

“Right!”

Kenma slipped away even as Bokuto moved to embrace the both of them. He resumed his path to Kuroo, but noticed that the other man had slipped outside, onto the patio and the growing twilight of the city. 

He followed anyway. 

“Hey,” he said, sliding the door closed behind him and joining Kuroo on the stone deck. They were not too far up from the street, but the rush of the night breeze rocked Kenma back a little. His hands found the railing and he held fast to it, before leaning into it, trying to march Kuroo’s effortless lean. He always had been good at that. 

When he looked over, though, he saw that Kuroo was chewing at his lip, a line of tension running across his shoulders. He leaned his body to nudge at Kuroo’s, and Kuroo leaned back. 

“Is it weird that I’m nervous? Kuroo started with a dark chuckle.

Kenma blinked. “I don’t think so. I know I would be.”

But Kuroo never was. Never had been, not for as long as Kenma had known him. And Kenma had known him, known him even when Kuroo first picked up a guitar, jokingly strummed at its strings, and said, I could do this.

“Change is hard,” Kuroo was looking down at his clasped hands, elbows still resting on the railing, inches from Kenma’s hands. “I thought I was ready to come down here, but it’s so weird. We’re not the big thing anymore. We’re small fry.”

“You’re still you, though. You’re good.”

“We’re… we need practice. The studio, Kenma, it’s everything we wanted, but it’s a lot. This whole past week was just signing documents, signing little bits of our band away. And now all of a sudden, after barely a week of practice, we are meant to represent them at a competition? I’ve never,” Kuroo sighed. “Kenma, I’ve never done anything like that before.”

Kenma didn’t quite know what to say, so he didn’t say anything.

But Kuroo wasn’t finished.

“I don’t know how you did it, Kenma.”

And truthfully, Kenma didn’t know either. Kuroo glanced at him, probably searching for answers, but Kenma just shrugged.

Kuroo sighed. “You’ll be there, right?” 

Kenma had always been the quieter one in this relationship, but he knew that silence often held a connotation that Kenma didn’t always mean. He wondered if Kuroo thought he was mad, having avoided interactions with his friends, trying to adjust to this way of life on his own. 

Kenma wasn’t mad, or upset, even though he knew things weren’t quite back to the way they used to be, Kuroo at his side and getting closer. 

It was just that he had realized, in these past few weeks, that he was still lonely. 

“Yeah,” Kenma said, instead of what he thought. “I’ll be there.”

Kuroo reached over, pressing a hand over Kenma’s, his touch warm and firm. And then he turned to go back inside, shutting the glass door behind him on Bokuto’s raucous laugh.

And Kenma was left with the quiet sounds of the city, and only the ghost of Kuroo’s touch. 

Kuroo felt his phone buzz in his pocket the moment he stepped through the doors of their practice space, a small and isolated corner studio in Shimokita. It was affiliated with Nashonaru, which meant that they didn’t have to pay to practice. It also meant it was first come, first serve for those who wanted to perform on the stage. 

Bokuto was currently battling it out with two performers who had arrived at the same time, Akaashi glowering at his side. Tensions were high with the competition only two days away, and Kuroo tried not to feel it taking up space in the back of his mind. 

He glanced at his phone and saw that Kenma had responded to his text message about their location. 

I’m off work early, today. I’ll be there.

Kuroo’s heart began to race a little bit faster, and he pocketed his phone and stepped into the conversation. 

“Hey,” he said, directing it at the two guys. They looked familiar, but he couldn’t place their names. “You guys take the stage first. We’ll tune in back.”

Bokuto gaped at him, but before he could whine, Kuroo tugged at his sleeve to pull him off stage. 

“Kenma’s coming, later,” he said. He could hear Akaashi murmur something, but continued anyway. “I want to give him a show.”

“Ohh,” Bokuto said, lips curving into a smile. “So, is this the part where you…”

“Bokuto,” Akaashi clucked. “Look.”

He nodded to the doors of the studio, where Kenma had just walked in. He was accompanied by a tall, lanky man, with stunning grey hair. 

“Kenma!” Kuroo shouted, surprise sticking in his throat. Kenma locked eyes with him and moved closer, dragging the other man by a hand on his elbow. Kuroo focused on the point of contact and swallowed, hard. 

“You’re… really early,” he said, when Kenma was finally close, had finally dropped his hand from the other man’s arm. “We just lost our practice space, but we’ll be on in an hour—”

“We would have had it,” Bokuto grumbled. “If someone hadn’t—”

Akaashi elbowed Bokuto in the stomach with a crack that Kuroo almost felt bad about. 

“It was my fault,” Akaashi said. “We needed the tuning time.”

Kenma didn’t look at all concerned by the exchange, and shrugged. “It’s okay, I took the rest of the day off.” He glanced, quickly, at the man who was still standing silently at his side. “Even though Lev still insisted on following me around.”

“Hey!” The other man pouted. “Just because you get to decide your hours, doesn’t mean I do! I’m under contract to be your assistant, even if you don’t actually give me anything to do!”

Kenma sighed with the air of someone long-suffering, the same sigh he’d carried with him through childhood, and Kuroo couldn’t help the fond smile that tugged at his lips. “Whatever.”

Kenma glanced, then, at Akaashi. “Hey. Do a lot of bands practice in this area?”

“Sure,” Akaashi said. “Kogarasu practices just down the street. Pretty sure Yamaguchi texted that they’re in today—”

Bokuto and Kuroo turned to look at him at the same time, and Akaashi raised his hands defensively. 

“You text?” Bokuto cried, while Kuroo turned back to Kenma, said, “But you want to stay for us, right?”

Kenma looked upwards, clearly in thought. “If you really won’t be on for an hour, maybe I could see Hinata…”

“Hinata’s here?” Lev cried. “Oh, I forgot he was in a band!” He grabbed Kenma’s arm and shook it, before Kenma yanked it away. “Let’s go see!”

Kenma shrugged, then looked over at Kuroo. “You don’t mind, do you?”

Kuroo hesitated for only a moment, before switching his expression over to be cool and uncaring, something he had practiced at for so long. “No worries,” he said. “You know where to find us.”

“Yeah,” Kenma said, and Kuroo saw something flash in his eyes. But he was out of practice with reading Kenma, and so he floundered. 

“I’ll show you where they are,” Akaashi said suddenly, moving to put a hand to Kenma’s back. And then, with a push, and a loud exclamation from Lev, they were back through the doors and out of sight. 

Kuroo couldn’t help it— he threw his head back and let his eyes slip closed, frustration burning darkly behind his eyelids. 

“Sorry, bud,” he heard Bokuto say, his hand closing over Kuroo’s shoulder and squeezing tightly. “But, honestly, you need to start being true to yourself.”

“Easier said than done, Koutarou,” he said. He looked over at his friend, who looked troubled. “I mean, think back— weren’t you afraid, when you asked out Akaashi? You guys were friends before, don’t you remember how worried you were to lose him?”

Bokuto was quiet for a moment, and then he shrugged, and smiled. “Not really. It was always Akaashi, for me. I was going to be happy no matter what came our way.”

“But if…” Kuroo paused. “But what if he had said no? To all of it?”

Bokuto looked hesitant. “Honestly, I didn’t really think about that. I knew I was going to fight for him.” A pause. “It was because we were friends that I felt safe enough to do it. I knew Akaashi, and I knew he wouldn’t just leave me like that. And we would work something out, something that would make him happy, even if it wasn’t exactly what I wanted for us.”

Bokuto released his grasp on Kuroo’s shoulder and slugged him, hard. “I’ll admit, I got lucky that I’m the thing that makes Akaashi happy—”

“I don’t know if that’s the right word...”

“But I don’t think you even need to worry. You and Kenma are closer than Akaashi and I were. You know him, and you’ve known him for way longer than I have. You knew, forever ago, what was in store for you two, and you know now. So what’s the hold up?”

Kuroo had known, had been on the verge of asking, and then all those months had forced a chasm between them that he just couldn’t cross. And now, there were others to contend with…

“The hold up,” he started, “is that I’m not the only one in his life now.”

Bokuto hummed, and then shook his head. “Well, that’s easy, too,” he said, and when Kuroo looked over at him, his eyes glinted darkly. “You just need to beat them to the punch.”

“Stop pushing, Lev,” Kenma sighed, as Lev breezed past him and flung open the doors to the small studio, not a block away from where they had left Kuroo and Bokuto. 

“Lev!” A voice rang out from the stage, cutting off the flow of sound. Kenma could hear the other members of Kogarasu groan, and then there was a clatter, and Kenma could only assume Hinata had jumped off the stage to hug or high five or whatever it was he did when he greeted Lev. The two had struck up a friendship after Hinata had tried to sneak into Kenma’s office one day to surprise him, only to be caught by Lev, who immediately wanted to join in on the shenanigans. They were too similar in personality, and only seemed to heighten Kenma’s blood pressure when they were together, so he avoided it as much as possible. 

He was just about to peer around the corner when he felt Akaashi’s hand on his arm, a soft pressure that made him freeze. He looked back and saw the other man’s face shadowed with concern. 

“Wait, Kenma,” he said, the doors closing shut behind them as he turned to face Akaashi. 

“What?”

“I have a question for you…” 

Kenma waited, and when Akaashi wasn’t forthcoming, he repeated his earlier question.

Akaashi sighed. “Do you… do you like Hinata?” Akaashi’s face twisted up, as though the question left a bad taste in his mouth. 

“Ugh,” he said, almost immediately, confirming Kenma’s suspicions. “I regret asking it like that, but I still want to know.”

“I mean… sure,” Kenma said. “He’s a little much sometimes, but he has a good heart, and he…” Kenma hesitated, biting off, he reminds me of Kuroo. He reminds me of Kuroo when he is working really hard at trying to nail a solo, or when he sees me watching him and he smiles back. He reminds me that I love him, and it’s okay to be in love.

“So are you going to… Are you going to date him?” Akaashi rolled his eyes. “I swear, the things I do for you guys…”

“ What? ” Kenma hissed, cutting Akaashi off. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because you… Kenma, when you like someone…”

“Oh my god! I like him, I’m not in love with him! You know…”

And Kenma bit down again, hard, this time catching his tongue in between teeth. He swore and brought his hands to his lips, cringing at the pain. Concern flashed over Akaashi’s face, but Kenma waved it away. 

“Akaashi, whatever you think is going on, it’s not like that. Shouyou is already dating not one, but two people, and I’m not about to step into that mess. Besides, he’s actually… he’s helping me…” Well, there really was no reason to hold back now. “He thinks I’m in love with Kuroo.”

“Oh.” Akaashi crossed his arms over his chest. “ Oh . Kenma—”

“He knows that we almost, that we…” Kenma doesn’t like to think about that night, and everything that hasn’t happened since. 

“I always thought…” Akaashi started. “When you moved down here, Kuroo was a mess for a long time. He held it together whenever you came back, but… Listen, we all missed you, but no one missed you like he did.”

Kenma’s breath caught in his throat. “He didn’t… he never showed it.”

“He didn’t want to mess up your chances. He was so proud of you for coming down here, we all were, but you can’t tell me you wouldn’t have moved back if he even hinted…”

Kenma nodded. 

“I think he’s still holding back out of that fear,” Akaashi said, suddenly. “I wish I could tell him to just let go of it, but that’s not my place. Right, Kenma?”

“I wouldn’t have…” Kenma sighed. “I wouldn’t have just left Kuroo if there had been… something more.”

“Wasn’t there?”

“I don’t…” Hot tears sprung to Kenma’s eyes, and he remembered that night, seeing Kuroo on stage, crooning voice and open eyes, wishing that Kuroo could see him, could love him , the same way he did. Knowing that it wasn’t going to happen. Telling Kuroo that he had to leave. “I just don’t know. I don’t know how to be in love… or how to be loved. It’s not easy.”

He felt Akaashi’s hand at his back, pulling him close to his chest. “I know,” Akaashi said. “It’s hard. It’s so hard.”

“Did you…” Kenma started. “Did you want to be in love with him?”

Kenma could feel Akaashi’s intake of breath, even as the other man pulled away. “I don’t know,” Akaashi said. “I don’t know if it’s what I wanted, but it’s what happened for me. And I wouldn’t take it back, not for anything.”

The silence rested between them, even as the sounds of music thrummed from behind the doors. Akaashi moved his hand to Kenma’s hair, a gentle and reassuring weight, and stroked it kindly. “What is it that you want, Kenma?”

The music was a crescendo that hit at Kenma’s heart, a matching beat, and in that moment all Kenma wanted was to see Kuroo smile at him. 

“I know,” Kenma said, “But I don’t know how to ask for it.”

And then, the doors burst open, and Hinata’s sunshine face came into view. “Lev said you were out here!” He cried. “Aren’t you going to come watch?” 

Kenma glanced at Hinata, and then Akaashi, and felt the pressure building. It was familiar and aching, a reaction to stress that usually left him catatonic, curled in bed and staring at the flashing lights of the game in his hand. 

No one had ever called it healthy, but at least Kenma knew it was there for him, an escape hatch he could take to lead him away from it all. 

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m going to go home.” 

And just like that, he turned on his heel and fled the scene. 

“Kenma,” Kuroo pounded on the door, voice stern. He wasn’t angry, not exactly. His blood thrummed in his veins, though, a frenetic rush of excitement, exhilaration, victory. 

He knew this Kenma. He knew how to handle this Kenma. 

“Kenma,” he said again, and then, a quick turn of the knob which gave way immediately— the door was unlocked. “I’m coming in,” he warned, and then he pushed the door open. 

He was met with a familiar sight— so familiar, in fact, that it made his heart skip horribly in his chest. Kenma was buried under a mountain of blankets, the only part of him visible a slim, pale ankle. 

Kuroo couldn’t help himself. He reached a hand out, skimming over the skin there, before giving it a gentle pinch. 

“Ouch!” Kenma pulled his ankle back into the nest, but Kuroo got what he wanted. Kenma pushed the covers away from his face, hair frizzed and scowl bright with fury. 

“Tetsurou,” he hissed, like he was scolding a child, but before Kenma could pull the blankets back, Kuroo reached for them. 

“Kenma,” he said, a third time, so much softer. “I’m taking you out to lunch.”

“I’m sick,” Kenma said, coughing pitifully into his hand. Kuroo rolled his eyes. 

“Yeah, and I know that went over well when you called out from work, but it’s not going to fly with me.” Kuroo sat on the edge of Kenma’s bed, even as the other man tried to slink away. “I know you, Kenma, and I know that when you get like this, hot pot is the best remedy.”

“Hot pot,” Kenma said, glowering. Then, his eyes softened. “That… sounds good.”

“There we go,” Kuroo said, and before he could catch himself, he reached a hand out and ran it through Kenma’s hair, watching as Kenma’s eyes slipped closed at the touch. He felt himself pitch forward, too far to catch himself, Kenma’s face inches from his, lips parted and dry and so enticing. 

And then, Kenma’s eyes flashed open, and Kuroo corrected himself by lifting himself from the bed, holding his hand out to Kenma, willing him to take it. 

“Come on,” he said. “I know a place.”

The place in question was only a few blocks from the apartment, and they spent the short walk in silence. Kuroo wanted to ask what was wrong, what had caused Kenma to shrivel in on himself, his comfort cocoon that had been his go-to move since childhood. 

He thought he knew the answer, and it made his throat burn with anger. Either he had done something to upset Kenma, who never returned to catch their practice— or Hinata was the cause, the only factor that would have disrupted the flow of that afternoon. 

Kuroo had tried to get an answer out of Akaashi, who had returned to practice after a suspicious amount of time, but he had just pressed a kiss to Bokuto’s wild grin and shrugged, even as Kuroo begged and pleaded. 

There hadn’t been an answer then, but when he made it home and saw Kenma’s closed door, Kuroo had another piece to the puzzle, hoping he was ever closer to solving it. 

“So,” he started, after they had found a table and placed their order. “What happened?”

“Kuroo,” Kenma sighed. “Nothing.”

“Like I said, I know you, Kenma. You don’t get to curl up in your cocoon and then tell me nothing is going on. I don’t care that you missed our practice,” he said. “I’m not mad.”

Kenma glanced up at him. “I didn’t think you were.”

“Okay. So… can you tell me why you are? So I can apologize?”

“What?” Kenma quirked an eyebrow. “What are you talking about?”

“Kenma, someone upset you, and if it was… if it was me, I want to know. You deserve an apology. If I’ve been… I know things have been…”

“Wait,” Kenma’s hand flashed out, catching Kuroo’s where it rested on the table, before he pulled back again. “Sorry. I mean, it’s not you. Not really.”

“Ah.” Kuroo bit into his lip. “Was it… Hinata?”

“Shouyou? No, I hardly talked to him. Besides, he’s better at that kind of thing than I am.” Kenma sighed. “He always knows the right thing to say.”

Kuroo hummed. “That’s surprising.”

“Well, he is dating two people.”

“Oh.” Kuroo hadn’t known that. “That is… also surprising.”

Their bowls arrived, and Kenma dug into his immediately, slurping down noodles and biting into a slab of pork. Kuroo cleared his throat. 

“What is it that you usually… talk to Hinata about?” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer, but Kenma’s nebulous involvement with the redhead was still nagging at him, a thread that Kuroo kept tugging at even as it unraveled him. 

Kenma glanced at him, then back at his noodles. No response.

“Because you know you can always talk to me,” Kuroo said, the hope projecting very clearly in his voice. “If you wanted advice, or something like that.”

Kenma was quiet, and then he said, “I think I’d choose Akaashi first.”

Kuroo laughed, then, the feeling as sharp as crystal embedded in his chest. He thought he felt relief, but it could chase away only so much uncertainty. 

“Yeah,” he said, and he wanted Kenma to feel things were good between them, wanted it so badly to be true. He smiled, the contagious one that drew people into him. “Honestly, he’s probably the best pick.”

Kuroo leaned back in his chair, watching the smile dawn on Kenma’s face, willing the tension to bleed out of the air around them. 

“Kuroo,” Kenma said, and Kuroo brushed a sweep of his fringe out of his eyes, wanting a clear view of Kenma, soft at the edges, sharp and glinting where it counted.

“Yeah?”

“I’d choose you, too. You know, eventually.”

Kenma wasn’t looking at Kuroo, so he couldn’t see the warmth on his face, but Kuroo hoped he could hear it in his response. “I know, Kenma.”

Kenma had been to more than enough concerts over the years of being friends with Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi. He had never envisioned this becoming his scene, had never really wanted it, but he had surprisingly gotten used to the crush of crowds long ago. He’d become an expert at finding the right way to move to avoid the screeching pulse of speakers, the push of people, the stench of beer and body odor. 

A lot of it involved moving at the back, behind the action. It didn’t matter if he was far from the stage; Kuroo always seemed to know where to find him. 

The Tokyo scene was a little different, because of course it was. Kenma tried not to feel the creeping terror of being overwhelmed by the crowd, feeling the slide of concrete at his back; but then his foot caught on a ragged edge to the floor, and he tripped. 

“Watch it,” a stern voice said above him, but the arms that caught him were gentle and held him firmly before he could hit the ground. Kenma glanced up into Tsukishima’s glinting, golden eyes. 

“Hey, thanks,” Kenma said, as Tsukishima righted him. He should have known that the other man would be here, and in the exact spot Kenma was drawn to. They had always been similar, he and Kei. 

Tsukishima, of course, had found his true love, and although their road to happiness was a rocky one, Kenma had no doubt that he and Yamaguchi would be together forever. 

He had no doubts, he thought, bitterly. Unlike the doubts that swirled around him, haunting and dark, even as he and Kuroo danced even closer to each other. Kenma thought about their lunch yesterday, Kuroo’s tender gaze and his awful, horrible knowledge of everything that made Kenma tick. 

“Kozume—” Tsukishima started, but Kenma didn’t hear the rest, as the lights dimmed and the crowd swelled and roared around them. They both pressed their backs into the wall, and Kenma stood on his tiptoes to see which band had gotten the first slot. 

His heart swelled when he saw Kuroo grace the stage, swaggering out on long legs, guitar slung easily around his shoulders. Bokuto sprinted out behind him, arms and drumsticks raised high, followed by Akaashi, resting fingers gently on the neck of his bass. 

“Hello, Tokyo,” Kuroo had caught up to the mic, now, and his voice curled out low and sulky. The crowd screamed, the majority of which sounded like female voices, high and frantic. “This first song goes out to someone special.”

At his side, he could feel Tsukishima tense, and glance down at him. But then, Kuroo’s scan of the crowd seemed to find its target, and he locked eyes with Kenma. Everything suddenly slipped away, as Kuroo’s face curved into an easy smile. 

The lights dimmed further, Bokuto began a rolling tempo on his set, Akaashi’s easy low notes filling the spaces between. Kuroo pressed forward to the microphone. 

And Kenma fell again. 

“Scratching at the surface now,” Kuroo strummed at his guitar, crooning voice the perfect accompaniment. “And I'm trying hard to work it out.”

Kenma realized, with a sudden, sinking feeling, that it had been months since he’d heard Kuroo play. Months since he’d heard his voice, so perfectly tuned to tug at Kenma’s heartstrings. 

“And so much has gone misunderstood, and this mystery only leads to doubt .”

It had been months, because the last time he’d heard Kuroo play, the night ended with him standing on the curb, Kuroo’s skin gleaming with the sweat of a performance, and Kenma telling him he was leaving. 

“And I didn't understand, when you reached down to take my hand. ”

Kuroo had pressed in, only to fall back. Kenma had fought to give in, only to give up.

“And if you have something to say,” Kuroo’s voice broke on stage, his eyes dark and searching, and Kenma felt miles away, but every word hit at close range. “You better say it now.”

Kenma didn’t know how to ask. But he’d been brave before, had gone after what he wanted, even though it had come at such a lonely cost. 

He could be brave again.

Even in the dimming house lights, Kuroo found Kenma. He’d had years to practice, even as their crowds grew, and a couple months of separation wouldn’t change that.

Bokuto and Akaashi were at his side, and they started the song for him, the one that had taken shape over the past few weeks, crafted and shaped by Kuroo’s struggles. 

Kuroo felt every word that slipped past his lips, unapologetically. 

 “'Cause this is what you've waited for,” he sang, because he was sure, so sure, that Kenma wasn’t his to have anymore. “A chance to even up the score.”

He thought about passing Kogarasu backstage, a measured wink thrown their way, head cocked in his most intimidating stance. Yamaguchi had smiled back, easygoing even under pressure. Even more frustratingly, Hinata had turned from the other two members, the blonde and the dark-haired, glowering man, and waved excitedly, wishing them good luck. 

Kuroo couldn’t believe he’d lost out to him. 

He had turned, gritting his teeth, before sauntering onstage, trying to make his unsteady heart look cool. 

“And as these shadows fall on me now, I will somehow, yeah…”

Win or lose, he had to drag everything out into the light. There would be no more shadows. 

It might hurt him, it might even hurt Kenma, but it couldn’t be any worse than the uncertainty that crested between them now.

Kenma deserved the truth, but so did Kuroo. 

Behind him, the music died, before Bokuto’s next volley of notes rallied them into the next song. Kuroo pushed on, again, and again, until it was time for them to give up the stage. 

He was drenched in sweat, heart pounding, wrung out by every emotion. 

He hadn’t lost Kenma in the crowd once. 

The night was a blur as soon as they stepped backstage, Bokuto’s arms around them both, jumping excitedly. 

Win or lose, Kuroo thought again, as the competition roared to life behind them. The hours bled together as Rolling Thunder, ‘Til it Breaks, Hatsudenjo, and then finally Kogarasu all took the stage. 

They lost. Kuroo wasn’t surprised; they were so new on the scene, had gotten the worst slot, knew that this was always meant to be just an introduction. 

It still stung. And the rejection, coupled with what he might experience later, left him faltering in a daze. 

Somehow, Bokuto and Akaashi managed to drag him to the afterparty, a small, invitation only affair. The crowd was so small that he was able to find Kenma almost immediately, all thanks to his horrible talent for zeroing in on him like a spotlight. 

Kenma, careful frame small next to Kei’s tall one, smiling at Yamaguchi and his friendly face, smiling at Hinata and his excited movements. 

Hinata, darting forward and pulling Kenma into his arms. Kenma, curling his arms and gently embracing Hinata back. 

Kuroo’s stomach dropped, the sting of rejection fresh and bright like citrus in a wound, for the second time that night. 

And then, the song flooded his heart, and he remembered his purpose. What he owed to Kenma, and himself. The truth, free of shadows. 

He stepped forward, and called out, “Kenma.”

Kenma wasn’t sure how he’d ended up at the afterparty, but Tsukishima had asked for company, and Kenma had followed, sure that he could find Kuroo there. They had met up with Kogarasu near the entrance, buzzing from the near win, Hinata’s girlfriend crying tears of joy, and Hinata’s boyfriend the closest Kenma had ever seen him to smiling. Yamaguchi was there, too, and Tsukishima left Kenma's side to discreetly deliver a congratulatory kiss to him. 

Kenma looked away, feeling shy at the exchange, and marginally   jealous. He hoped, so much it felt like it could come true, that he could have that same moment with Kuroo. 

“Kenma!” Hinata was at his side, then, his hands small and warm as he pulled Kenma closer. “Hitoka was just saying—

“Oh!” Yachi was glowing prettily under the house lights, and Kenma felt his face color. “Kenma, Owls Turning People to Cats was just amazing!”

Kenma nodded, a little dazed and intimidated next to her beauty and Kageyama’s towering frame, and embarrassed as he always was by the ridiculous name for Kuroo’s band. 

“Bokuto’s drumming was so... “ Hinata threw his arms in the air with a shout, almost hitting Kageyama in the face. The other man caught Hinata by the wrist, locking their fingers together and lowering Hinata’s arm so that they were holding hands. The motion was smooth and practiced, and Kenma smiled. 

“Yeah,” he said. “I’ll introduce you soon. I just…” he hesitated. “There’s something I have to take care of tonight.”

Yamaguchi and Tsukishima had joined them, and Kenma almost didn't continue, but their expressions were so earnest, and he felt safe. These were his friends; his community. He locked eyes with Hinata. “There’s something I have to tell Kuroo.”

He almost didn’t hear the quiet murmur of, “About time,” from Tsukishima, because Hinata let out a cry that could match Bokuto any day. Hinata leaped toward him, his arms warm around Kenma’s neck, and Kenma returned the hug.

“Thanks,” he whispered in Hinata’s ear, as the other man squeezed him tight. 

And then, he heard his name, a voice he would recognize anywhere. 

“Kuroo?” He said, pulling away from Hinata to see the other man striding toward him, unnamed emotion flashing across his face.

“Kenma,” Kuroo said, before he broke eye contact and quickly surveyed the surprised expressions of everyone else. “Ah. Hey, everyone.”

A smattering of greetings, and then Kuroo placed his hand on Kenma’s arm, just above his elbow. 

“Can I talk to you?” He said, his voice hoarse from his performance. Kenma nodded, and let himself be led away. 

“What is it?” He asked quickly, because his nerves were on fire just under his skin, Kuroo’s touch the source of the blaze.

“Kenma,” Kuroo’s gaze was dark, and Kenma almost didn’t want to meet it. He willed himself to be brave, Kuroo’s chorus a gentle guide in his head. “I have to say something, and it has to be now. I’ve put it off for too long.”

There was a part of Kenma that wanted to cut him off, to share his feelings first, and another part that feared any word from him would end things forever. 

“I never wanted to hurt you,” Kuroo was saying. “But you can’t control who you fall in love with. I just wish, so badly for you, that this person was not already taken…”

Kenma felt like the floor might drop away from under him. Was Kuroo saying…? Had Kenma gotten it wrong? Was the song about someone else?

He couldn’t believe he had been so stupid, stupid enough to think Kuroo was in love with him. He was about to step away, to pull away, so he didn’t have to feel Kuroo’s touch on his skin anymore, didn’t have to feel anymore…

And then, Kuroo continued. “After all, he already has two partners, and I don’t know how it would work… you deserve someone to give all their attention, all their love to you.”

The world came back into view, and it all suddenly made such a terrible amount of sense.

Kuroo kept going, his thumb moving in circles at the bend of Kenma’s arm. “I know our time may have passed, but I want the best for you…”

Kenma couldn’t hold it in anymore. “Wait, are you talking about Shouyou?”

Kuroo blinked. “Who else would I be talking about? Kenma, I know you like him, and for some reason you didn’t want to tell me, but you don’t have to be embarrassed—”

“Kuroo.” Any fear still in Kenma’s chest evaporated completely, and laughter bloomed in its place. “You’re an idiot.”

“I— excuse me?”

“I don’t love Hinata… I love you.”

“Excuse me? ”

Kenma’s heart was thrumming in his head, but he couldn’t stop now. “I love you. Why would I love anyone else? It’s always been you.”

He felt Kuroo’s grip tighten, and reached out in turn. “Tetsurou,” he said. “I don’t want our time to be over.”

Kuroo still looked like he’d been struck in the head, and then, in a rush of breath, he whispered, “Kenma .”

And then Kenma was pulled into Kuroo’s arms, and it had been a while, so he’d forgotten how good it felt, how safe he was in this embrace. 

He brought his arms around Kuroo and let himself sink into him, felt Kuroo’s head fall into his hair, his breath ruffling the long strands there.

“I never thought,” Kuroo’s voice was muffled, but Kenma could hear it reverberating in his chest. “Kenma, it’s always been you, for me.” 

Kenma laughed, then, because the two of them had always been a pair, and they were clearly a pair of fools.

“Shouyou? Really?” He asked, pulling away, but he left his hands resting on Kuroo’s hips. 

“Shut up,” Kuroo said, bringing a hand to Kenma’s cheek and running his thumb along the red streaks there. 

“Make me,” Kenma said, and Kuroo was never one to back down from a challenge. Kenma felt the cool press of lips against his, even as heat blossomed all around them. 

“Alright!” A voice shrieked in the distance, and it could have been Hinata, it could have been Bokuto, but either way it reminded him that they were still in a very public place. He could hear the crowd’s murmur growing louder around them as others joined in to cheer.

And his heartbeat quickened, and his face felt like it was on fire, but Kuroo’s lips were soft and warm against his, his face framed perfectly by large hands, and he truly couldn’t bring himself to care about what others thought. 

He was finally home.