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Observation one: Kenma sat differently depending on who he was with.
When huddled in the corner of a party (the few times Kuroo persuaded him to go), he would rest his chin on his knees in a sheltered way. His face would scrunch up— probably in disgust at the drunk college kids surrounding him, and his usually-hunched shoulders would become stiffer than usual. The times Kuroo saw Kenma like this he would feel extremely guilty, almost immediately waving his goodbyes and escorting his friend out the door.
When sitting in a shopping cart pushed by Kuroo at the grocery store, he would cross his legs and unconsciously turn his body in the direction of his friend. His hood would most definitely be up; his eyes glaring down at his phone as nimble thumbs flew at incredible speed across the small screen. Kenma is always sitting in the shopping cart on their trips to the store. A, Kuroo insists that he shouldn’t play games while walking. B, he never likes doing more than he absolutely has to in front of people. So, the roosterhead would stay perfectly content with pushing his friend around in a shopping cart. In fact, he found it rather endearing.
When perched on the chair of the movie theatre their volleyball team visited every Saturday, Kuroo found that Kenma tucked his hands beneath his thighs. Perhaps it was the lack of hand stimulus (as the theatre prohibited electronic devices), or it could even be that he found it more comfortable. No matter, Kuroo always found himself feeding his friend bits of popcorn throughout the movie.
When slouched in the company of their dormmates (there were three rooms per dorm, each housing two people), Kenma would often find the spot closest to the door. He would huddle up— though not as tightly as he did at parties, and would slump his head forward ever so slightly. To any other person, it would seem as though Kenma didn’t enjoy the company of his peers. To Kuroo, it was blatantly obvious how fond Kenma was of their friends. He noticed the quick glances away from the PSP, he noticed the concealed upward twitch of Kenma’s lips whenever Oikawa let out a loud “Iwachan!”, he noticed the more relaxed (but still hunched) nature of Kenma’s shoulders.
When slumped in the presence of only his best friend, Kenma would splay out on Kuroo’s bed like a cat. Their legs would tangle together, and the smaller boy would press his back to the familiar comfort of his friend’s chest. Whispering quiet comments about his game, Kuroo would wrap his arms around Kenma’s waist with his chin resting on his shoulder.
Observation two: Kenma was beautiful.
If he were to be honest, Kuroo had no idea why this was even an observation. It was far too obvious to even be considered noteworthy, but alas, it was one of the things he thought every time he laid his eyes on the boy, among other things.
He was beautiful. The way his nimble fingers would pull at the sleeves of his hoodie, trying to cover up the pretty hands worn to perfection by setting a simple volleyball. Kenma would bite his lip, eyes frowning into a worried expression that Kuroo wanted so desperately to kiss away. He wanted to kiss his best friend, and he wasn't ashamed to admit it.
He was beautiful. The way his eyes would convey intense concentration on the ball in front of him, never wavering even as he surveyed his surroundings. Despite the off-court words he would mutter about not caring about volleyball, Kuroo knew better. Kenma had grown to love the feeling of that ball in his hands, his form was perfect, and Kuroo loved watching him play. Almost more than he loved playing himself.
He was beautiful. The way his pale skin shone in the moonlight on the day Kuroo fell in love with Kenma. They had gone out late at night, laying together side by side in the cold grass of the park. Kuroo had turned his head to the side, about to ask Kenma about his newest game when he found his words die in his throat. The light looked soft on Kenma's face, his eyelashes long and dark and beautiful. Kuroo loved Kenma so much in that moment he felt as though his heart was about to burst.
Observation three: Kuroo absolutely needed to kiss Kenma.
And so he did.
They sat underneath a Sakura tree, kind of cliche now that Kuroo thinks about it, but at the same time perfectly perfect. Kenma smiled softly at the deep hums sung from his friend's throat. While Kenma closed his eyes, Kuroo looked at the boy next to him. Fluttering eyelashes, smooth skin, long hair, pink lips. He leaned in quietly, heartbeat steadfast in his ears. The birds chirped quietly around them, children laughing far in the distance— but as Kuroo's world slowed down, he heard nothing but the soft breaths from Kenma's parted lips.
He kissed him. He kissed him and his world fell into fire, he kissed him softly as his brain went fuzzy. His hand cupped Kenma's cheek, skin against skin soft and inviting. And as he felt a soft pressure against his lips too, the fire in his chest multiplied. Kenma was kissing him back, the beautiful, perfect, inspiring Kenma was kissing him back and everything was so right.
Observation four: Kenma loved Kuroo.
He had for years.