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His somatosensory system was made aware of a sudden warmth by his shoulders travelling down the lengths of his spine to the rest of his body, and his auditory system soon registered the soft clunk of ceramic hitting wood. His consciousness found itself resurrected from the depths of his subconscious, and it soon came to his attention that while his vision was blocked by a wall of darkness, spots of light fought through the cracks to urge at him to return.
Kuroo shot open an eye, making out a white object placed in front of him and a dark silhouette by his side. He shifted in his spot as he let out a soft groan; when had he fallen asleep? He was sitting at the dinner table with his face pressed against the cool wooden surface and his arms sprawled out across the pages of printed white paper. He must have accidentally nodded off while reading one of the many articles messily laid out on the table.
“Oh, sorry if I woke you up.”
Kuroo looked up through bleary eyes tired from interrupted slumber, and while his vision was as comparably groggy as his mind, his golden eyes met identical ones that had been clearly lined by the passage of time.
“Nah, it’s alright dad.”
Kuroo hooked a foot under the rung of the chair by his side to pull it out for his father as he straightened back up in his seat. As the older man sat down, Kuroo ran his hands through his hair, and took a deep breath, letting the air of the night fill his lungs past its tidal capacity to re-oxygenate his blood to wake him up again. His father quietly watched as his younger carbon copy forcefully jammed his fingers against his laptop keyboard to bring it out of its slumber.
“You’re not going to sleep yet, huh?”
“I will soon,” he promised with a light chuckle as leaned back against his chair, stretching out his limbs after hours of sitting at the dining table. Gravity clung on to the edges of the blanket to slide it off his shoulders, though he reflexively reached over with his other arm to drape it back on, snuggling into the cocoon of warmth that the comforter brought about. “Just got one last paper to read,” he explained with his pointer tapping on the sheets in front of him. “Gotta make sure I don’t embarrass myself on the first day.”
“I’m sure you won’t,” his father chuckled, “I warmed up some milk for you.” His dad nodded at the white mug nestled in the blank spaces free of the clutter of papers. “Milk’s got tryptophan in it, which—”
“Which is a precursor for melatonin to help improve sleep quality,” Kuroo finished as he took a sip from the mug with a smile. “Someone’s done some research,” he noted, holding the mug with both hands as he savored the warmth emitted by its contents.
“I was worried you’d stress yourself out too much,” his father admitted, folding his arms in front of him as he leaned in closer. “You’ve been staying up later than usual to prepare for your move.”
“Thanks dad,” Kuroo smiled, looking up at his father with his eyes filled with nothing save for gratitude. “Just trying to prepare myself for life in good ol’ sunny California,” he continued with a sheepish grin. He watched as his father blinked absently back in response, his lips tight in a small smile.
“Your flight’s early in the morning tomorrow. You got everything packed?”
“Obviously,” Kuroo answered with a roll of his eyes as his hands turned over the stapled sheets to the next page. “(f/n) made sure of it. Wouldn’t let me off the hook until I could prove I finished. Said the chances for the null hypothesis being true were too high or something…”
Kuroo’s dad chuckled, watching as his son picked up the ceramic mug in front of him with ginger care to raise the rim up to his lips. His features had chiseled out over the years —a sharp jawline carved out from the chubby cheeks of his childhood. His father’s smile softened at the observation as he looked over at the parchment that now hung framed on the wall behind his son’s figure.
“I need to thank her again for taking care of this idiot son of mine,” the older man mused, his chin resting against his palm. Kuroo rolled his eyes in response as he looked back up to face his father, his hands capping the pen he held and resting it by his side.
“Your idiot son who’s going to become a doctor,” he corrected.
“On paper,” his dad teased, the grin on his face as sly as a cat’s.
“Touché,” Kuroo huffed out in surrender as he uncapped his pen and returned back to the papers in front of him.
The soft ticking of the clock and the quietly synchronized breaths from father and son settled comfortably in the room as Kuroo’s attention returned back onto the words on the page as his father watched on quietly, his eyes following each movement of the younger man. The silence that existed in the moment was something he had always treasured —the moments where he’d catch his son asleep by the computer and he’d patiently sit by his side until he woke up to support him in the only way he knew.
Because gone were the days where Kuroo would loudly ask him for help with his homework, with questions of “why do you think the sky is blue?” and “why is ‘avocados’ not spelled as ‘avocadoes’ if it’s ‘tomatoes’?” being reduced to nothing but memories. No, now he often found himself at a loss when his son approached him with questions, and as fate would have it, it was often that he was the one who sought the answers from the younger man now instead.
His father heaved a shaky breath as he found himself overcome by an overwhelming warm wave of relief (or was it euphoria?). His vision suddenly brightened up with the yellow tones of the lighting reflecting off each surface stronger than before. As shades of emotions passed by Kuroo’s face as he read through the article in his hand —jumping from an annoyed frown to a joyful grin within a split second— Kuroo’s father was suddenly reminded of the difference in height that now existed between them.
It had felt just like yesterday when he had caught his son —barely a year old at the time— in his arms as he tumbled forwards while taking his first steps, and now, in as little as six hours Kuroo would be settled in on a plane flying off to the other side of the world to take another step towards the childhood dream he had so boldly declared in his youth.
He diverted his gaze away from his son as he sucked in another breath, clearing his mind to stop the tears welling up in his eyes from spilling out. His sights landed on the clock by the wall: a quarter past two —he’d have to sleep soon to get to work in the morning.
“Tetsurou, I’m heading off to bed now.”
Kuroo looked up from his computer and nodded, whispering a “good night” before looking back down to his notes. His father stood up, quietly tucked in his chair, and headed for the doorway before he was stopped by the clearing of Kuroo’s throat.
“Hey dad?”
Kuroo’s father turned around, his golden eyes glowing under the soft light of the kitchen.
“Yes?”
“I’m going to miss you, you know.”
His father chuckled and retraced his steps back to the dining table. He gave Kuroo’s hair a quick ruffle as he smiled down at his son, the light flickering in his eyes as he tried to hold back his tears.
“Dad?” Kuroo asked, placing his pen down and looking at his father. “You ok?”
His father smiled as his eyelids fluttered shut and he shook his head in response. He couldn’t bring himself to speak the words on his mind into existence; he could only hope that Kuroo would one day understand himself.
“I will as well, my son,” he whispered, his voice so quiet that even he could barely make out the words uttered. Kuroo raised an eyebrow, casting an expression at his father as if to ask for him to repeat his words. The older man simply shook his head and turned around to head back for the hallway. He stopped, leaning back to cast his son one final glance before retiring back to his quarters for the night.
“Go to sleep soon, alright? Don’t want you missing your flight.”
“I won’t. Good night.”
Kuroo watched as his father’s form disappeared from view, and he heard the opening and shutting of his bedroom door from across the hallway moments later. He frowned, staring at the empty doorway as he focused on the rhythmic expansion and relaxation of his chest with each breath he took.
His eyes fell back down onto the papers in front of him and while his vision registered names of cell receptors and hormones, his mind shuffled through the memories he had shared with his father —from when he had taught him how to ride a bike to when he got his acceptance letter.
He fought back a tear as he reunited the cap onto his pen. He’d finish reading this on the train to the airport tomorrow, he thought.
Kuroo’s hand reached out for the ear of the mug that sat patiently for him on the wooden dining table as he reclined into his seat, his head tilted up as he stared silently at the ceiling.
He’d miss this.
And he wondered if his father would as well.
The ticks of the grandfather clock outside his study counted down the seconds of the night that had lapsed, reminding Kuroo of the passage of time in the present reality and pulling him out of the papers he was reading to return to the world of the living.
He looked up at the digital clock face at the corner of his screen and took off the black rims on his face. He had a conference early in the morning tomorrow and it was getting late —he’d have to head to bed now if he wanted to wake up in time.
Quietly rolling his chair back up against the desk, he then turned around and headed over to the light switch by the door. With a click of a button, Kuroo extinguished the light of his study and stepped out into the dimly illuminated hallway, making his way up to his bedroom to retire for the night. He took a step up the staircase and paused, the faint light spilling out from the kitchen at the end of the hallway having caught his notice.
Yuuki and Yuuma still aren’t asleep yet? he wondered as he treaded back and changed course to where he had last seen his sons.
He couldn’t help but let out a chuckle at the sight before him as he leaned against the doorframe with his shoulder pressed against the wooden structure. Exhausted from their nighttime grind at the textbooks, the twins had fallen fast asleep with their cheeks turned to the table and their mess of black hair splayed out in front of their faces.
The pairs of golden eyes so similar to his own that had previously stared intently at pages of text and sheet after sheet of numbers and letters typed up in serif font were now nowhere to be seen, having disappeared the same time that the quiet murmurs of recitation and the occasional groan of impending doom died down.
He took a step into the room, making his way around the kitchen counter to the fridge to bring out the carton of milk from the side of the door. As he poured out the contents into two identical white mugs, he held back a laugh as he watched Yuuma stir in his sleep from the loudness of Yuuki’s snores —the quieter twin inching further away from his brother with a bothered frown.
Taking the mugs out of the microwave, he walked back over to the dining table and gently placed them onto the wooden surface, taking care not to elicit any noise as to not wake them up. He walked over to the couch and grabbed the blankets that had been carelessly thrown on top, and carefully draped it over each of their shoulders.
Peering down at their obscured faces with an amused frown, he reached out to gingerly brush their bangs to the side, smiling at the sight of the peaceful serenity that had settled onto their features.
A creak of the floorboards by the doorframe notified him of the presence of another person in the room, and he looked up to find you standing by the door —your arms crossed and your head resting against the wall. Your smile widened as his eyes fell onto yours, and you gestured at the clock to remind him of the time.
He raised his index to his lips, motioning for you to keep quiet as he tiptoed over to where you stood, wrapping an arm around your side and pulling you in close to him. With his cheek resting against the top of your head, the two of you watched as Yuuki sat back up, his eyes dazed in tired confusion, and looked around the room. His gaze landed on the mug of milk in front of him, and his face instantly brightened as he reached out to take a sip while slapping his brother on the back to wake him back up.
“You look like you want to say something,” you murmured as you looked up from the corner of your eyes to where your husband was.
He stayed quiet for a second, silently staring at the sight before him with a proud smile carved onto his face. Kuroo’s hand reached down to meet yours, gently tugging at your hand to pull you back out to the staircase towards the direction of your shared bedroom.
“It’s just that I think I finally understood what my dad must have felt back then,” he replied, his voice soft-spoken yet modulated as he turned his head over to the side while fighting back his tears. “Watching your kids grow up…
You can’t help but feel proud of them.”