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“Are you so stupid that you’ve forgotten what a barre chord looks like or do you need a break?”
Kuroo snaps his eyes upward from where he gazes at the floor, his phone lighting up with notifications at his feet. His face flushes red with a dumb grin. “Sorry, I got distracted.”
“That shortcut B minor you made sounded like shit and didn’t match for shit, either. We have a concert this Friday, Tetsurou. In two days.” Taketora spits at the ground in reply, snagging a spare pick out of his bag as he does so.
Kuroo shrugs, readjusting the guitar hanging from his neck. “Sorry, sorry, I said I got distracted,” he murmurs. His face quickly loses its redness and stales to a distant frown. “Let’s start at measure 18? When the drums come in?”
The rest of the band follows suit, resuming their positions with instruments propped at the ready. Kuroo listens for the start of the metronome once again, Taketora’s voice shouting, “Remember, the only non-barre chord is D, Tetsurou! And don’t forget that gliss from fret twelve to ten...”
However, once the drums start up, Kuroo renders Taketora mute and allows his fingers to do all the talking. He glides from chord to chord, fingerpicks through a gritty chorus, bends and shreds on the bridge, and pedals through the final verse until nothing fills the room but bass feedback ringing in the big, thumping amp behind the drumset.
Kuroo mutes his strings with a loud slap over the neck of his guitar, his bandmates doing the same to stop the feed from scorching in their ears. Yaku talks over the feed, but Kuroo ignores it when he sees his phone light up at his feet once again. Instinctively, he bends down to read the text instead of continuing to the next song.
kenma
are u in practice? reply to my texts dumbass
Kuroo smiles, moving to grab his phone as his guitar hangs loosely off of him. He hears the short chatter of Yaku and Lev bickering behind him, but ignores it and opts to reply to his best friend’s latest text.
kuroo
yes i’m in practice. and if you need more help on chem i can stop by your house later tonight or tomorrow?
Kuroo hits send, dropping his phone back on the floor and looking up to see Taketora frowning above him.
“What’s so important? We need to go through our whole set by 8, and we’re only two songs in. Can your little girlfriend wait? Jesus, Tetsurou,” Taketora spits and scowls, hoisting his Fender Telecaster onto his hip. It makes Kuroo’s unpolished Gibson look like street trash in comparison, but Kuroo knows there’s a reason Yaku chose him as lead guitar over his companion—so he doesn’t mind dealing with the rich asshole as much.
“I don’t have a girlfriend, Taketora,” Kuroo sighs, flipping through his notebook to the next page lined with the tablature for the next song in their set, appropriately named “The Boy I Want.” He hasn’t shared the name of his song with the band yet—they’ve just been calling it “Song 2” for the past few months as Kuroo has been toying with lyrics.
“Sure feels like you do, the way you’ve been so damn distracted with your texts ever since school started back up.” Taketora softens, sitting down for a moment to take a drink from his Coke. He crushes the aluminum can when he finishes it, catching the attention of Lev sitting at the drumset behind him, and Yaku standing behind Kuroo.
Yaku nods. “You’ve been acting weird lately, he’s right about that.”
“I’m not acting weird!” Kuroo yells, forcing himself to laugh as he does so.
Conveniently, his phone lights up immediately thereafter and he doesn’t stop himself from picking it up.
kenma
tomorrow afternoon? this shit is so hardddddd. u can do my chem hw for me since ur so good at it :)
Kuroo smiles once again, the rarity of being praised by Kenma thumps in his heart and sprouts a blooming garden in his stomach. He gets sucked into the idea of seeing Kenma again tomorrow, not even noticing as all of his bandmates stare at him until Lev has climbed over the bass drum and toms and hovers over Kuroo’s shoulder, staring down at his phone as he texts back.
kuroo
fine, i’ll drive you home tmrw and stay to study. see u soon ooo
Lev blinks a few times as Kuroo sends the message, then grins. “Are you texting a girl?” He shouts in Kuroo’s ear, spooking him to jump up.
“No! I’m not! Jesus, Lev! Learn to have some personal space!”
Lev cocks his head. “Kuroo is going over to a girl’s house after this, he said so in his texts.” He frowns, then taps his cheek, deep in thought. “I couldn’t read who he was talking to, though, the texts were too small.”
Kuroo scoffs. “I hate you. I’m not going to a girl’s house, I’m going to Kenma’s house for fuck’s sake--”
“So that’s who you’ve been texting? And stopping in the middle of our sets to text back?” Yaku interrupts, eyes lighting up with his discovery. He taps his fingertips on the strong metal strings of his bass guitar, smirking as he awaits an answer from a once again, very flushed Kuroo.
“And what if he is the one I’ve been texting, huh? What would you do about it?”
Lev shrugs, Yaku grows amused.
“Well, are you two dating or not?” Yaku asks, holding his nails up to his face to inspect. Disgustingly enough, he peels the top part of his index finger’s nail off and drops it in the garbage can at the other side of the room. Waiting for an answer from a still-flustered Kuroo, he fingers a scale to make sure the length of his nails won’t get in the way of their performance.
Eventually, Kuroo shakes his head with a sigh. “No, we’re just friends—”
Yaku interrupts, again. “Then I’ll bother you about it until you ask him out and stop ruining our practice time. How’s that?” He continues to fiddle with his strings while he smirks, waiting. He stops playing after a minute, though, and rubs the back of his hand as if it’s in pain.
“Yeah, Tetsurou, what’s stopping you from asking him out?” Lev asks, drumstick spinning in his right hand as he impatiently waits to get back to playing. He stares at the yellow walls as Kuroo sighs once more, burying his head in his hands.
“Everything! He’s not even gay,” Kuroo starts, combing a hand through his messy hair. “He’s too good for me, and he doesn’t even think I’m cool.”
Taketora, who has been ignoring the conversation and reading Kuroo’s notebook opened to the page of his rough draft for the lyrics of Song 2, or, rather ”The Boy I Want,” looks up with a devious grin. “Look at this,” he calls out, waving the notebook in the air. “Kid’s fucking whipped.”
With horrified eyes, Kuroo snaps his head up. As soon as the page wavers and he sees the bottom verse scrawled in blue ink, he knows he’s doomed to an eternity of ridicule.
“What is that?” Lev asks, leaning over his drumset clumsily to try and see. He drops his drumsticks by accident, and bites his lip when they clash on his toms and snare before hitting the ground with a rattle.
Yaku yells out, “Goddamn it, Lev! Get your shit together!” over the chaos, but Taketora ignores it and returns to Lev’s question with a smirk.
“Let me read it to you,” Taketora replies, completely unbothered by the noise as this is the best thing he’s seen all week and he wants nothing more than to share it. He clears his throat and jumps out of the way when Kuroo tries to snatch the book from his hands.
He starts, “Our dearest lead here writes, ‘I want a boy with a shocking disposition, whose eyes shimmer caramel under the sun, whose eyes melt chocolate in the heat, with long blonde hair and hands crafted slender.’” He snickers, saying, “Oh, it gets better.
“‘I want a boy with a clean slate neck, ready to be ravaged and asking me for more—’”
Kuroo jumps up and grabs the notebook as fast as he can, stopping Taketora in his tracks.
Yaku sighs, Taketora grits his teeth. “C’mon man, we were just having fun, don’t be such a wuss ass--”
“These aren’t the fucking lyrics we’re using, Taketora. Those were just a draft. Fuck, man.” He clutches the notebook closer to his chest. “I’m leaving now. We can practice more tomorrow. I don’t want to deal with your shit anymore tonight.”
Taketora scoffs, readjusting the guitar strap on his shoulder as he watches Kuroo disconnect from his amp. “Oh, come on! Don’t be such a shit about this! We still have half the set to go over!”
“I mean, it was pretty rude of you to do that…,” Yaku whispers. He scratches the back of his neck as Kuroo takes his guitar off his body and places it into his cheaply lined zip-up case. Yaku sighs, then holds one hand to his bass and uses the other to lean over and help Kuroo zip his guitar into the case. He grabs his own from the stack as well, leading Lev to slip his drumsticks into his pocket and grab his phone off the floor. Yaku continues, “Well, if you do decide to ask him out, we’re all rooting for you. And maybe this Friday you’ll feel comfortable to use the lyrics that you really want to.”
Kuroo says nothing as he leaves his hostile bandmates. He drives home in silence.
--
When tomorrow afternoon comes, the snow lines the ground like Kuroo has never seen before. The weather has been testy all week, but the idea of his band’s gig being cancelled is his first worry. He’s had to deal with too much of their bullshit for their first gig using original songs to be cancelled.
He sits in his car with the heat blasting, waiting with hands in front of the air vents for Kenma to come out of the building and join him. His notes from last year’s chemistry class sits in the backseat, binder filled to the brim with his extraneous study of the matter and perfect homework assignments. His calculator sits in the cupholder, next to a thermos of cold coffee from the ride to school this morning.
He watches out the windshield as the doors to the school open, flooding out with second years. He doesn’t spot Kenma immediately, but eventually he catches him following far behind the thick crowd with his head down. He smiles. He would take it upon himself to drive to the entrance to pick Kenma up there so he doesn’t have to face the cold, but he knows better than anyone how much Kenma hates drawing attention, so he waits patiently in the car for Kenma to meet him in the middle of the parking lot.
He unlocks the door as Kenma draws closer, the hem of his hoodie covering his cold, rosy nose. Kuroo finds it cute and endearing that Kenma keepshis hoodie over his face so tight, and that he sticks his hands in the band of his sweatpants to keep warm. He looks goofy, that’s for sure; but when it’s Kenma, Kuroo couldn’t care less.
Kenma jumps in the car quickly, shutting the door behind him even quicker. “It’s cold as shit out there,” he says, immediately shoving his hands in front of the air vents like Kuroo had done earlier. He pulls his hoodie down and his hair frizzes up immediately, catching the eye of one whipped Kuroo Tetsurou.
“Look at your hair!” He snickers, pointing out the strands sticking in the air. Kenma huffs and sets his hand on his head to try and calm his hair, but only makes the static worse and more hair stand up. He gives up, collapsing into the passenger seat and shrugging.
“Whatever. It’s fashionable.”
Kuroo snorts; Kenma snorts back.
“Do you want anything to eat or drink? Do you want me to pick something up before we go back to your house? I’ll pay.”
Kenma rolls his eyes. “What a gentleman. But no, I’m fine. Thanks, Kuro.”
Kuroo’s heart starts thumping at the familiar nickname, and he smiles wide. “Are you sure? Not even tea or coffee? It’s so cold out, Kenma~”
Kenma shakes his head, sinking back into the seat with a soft sigh. He closes his eyes. “I’m good. You’re right about the cold though,” he scoffs, curling into his body to absorb the heat of his jacket. “Let’s just go home, alright?”
Kuroo nods, putting the car in reverse. He smiles at his friend, but Kenma doesn’t see it through his resting eyes. Noticing how tired he looks, Kuroo wonders how long Kenma will be able to study before he falls asleep.
He drives the two of them back to Kenma’s house, and Kenma sleeps the entire way there as Kuroo plays the rehearsal tracks the band recorded and hums along to them, mending the lyrics in his head all the way. The performance is tomorrow, and Kuroo still hasn’t verified lyrics for any of the five songs in their set. He had completely scrapped the lyrics for Song 2 as well, which left him at square one needing to recreate the entire song now in a single day.
He plays the same song over and over again—all three minutes of it—as they drive through the snow. Kuroo parks the car in Kenma’s driveway after the fifth play.
After they’ve arrived, he leans over and shakes Kenma’s shoulder softly to wake him up. He groans in response and shrugs Kuroo’s hand off, so the latter tries one more time, murmuring, “Come on, Kenma. We’re home.”
Kenma groans again, then rips his seatbelt off. He scrunches his eyes together as he yawns, grabbing Kuroo’s arm to lift himself up. He doesn’t let go as he stretches out his neck and blinks his eyes awake, and he doesn’t let go when he’s fully awake and softened his grip on Kuroo’s wrist to a light grasp.
“You really knocked out, huh?” Kuroo laughs, using his free hand to disconnect his phone from the auxiliary cord then take the keys out of the ignition. He doesn’t dare take his arm away from Kenma, and his heart thumps madly when Kenma slides his hand down Kuroo’s wrist and into his palm where he intertwines their fingers. Kenma flops back down in the seat and yanks Kuroo’s arm towards his chest. He sighs.
“I don’t want to study, Kuro,” he groans, curling up with Kuroo’s arm lying against his chest. “I’m so tired…”
Kuroo sighs quietly, watching as Kenma lies back in the seat and cuddles with his arm. He presses his lips together before coaxing Kenma with, “Let’s at least go inside, it’s going to get cold in a second here.”
It seems to work, as Kenma nods and sits up. He lets go of Kuroo’s arm and pulls his backpack into his lap, and says nothing as he pulls his house keys out of the front pocket. After zipping his bag back up, he opens the door to the car and shuts it closed behind him with a huff. Kuroo follows close behind, locking his car and trudging through the snowy driveway up to Kenma’s front door.
“What was that song you were playing in the car, anyway?” Kenma asks once the two of them are safely inside and taking off their coats. Kenma takes Kuroo’s out of his arms and puts it up on the coat rack alongside his own. “Was it your band’s? It sounded good.”
Kuroo blushes, but shakes it away quickly when Kenma looks back at him with a grin. The two walk up the stairs together, like always, and shut themselves in Kenma’s room.
“Uh, yeah. It’s the second song in our set… I just haven’t figured out lyrics for it yet.”
Kenma nods, flopping down on his bed and curling up into a blanket lying beside his pillow almost immediately. Kuroo drops his backpack down on the floor, then joins Kenma on the bed. He lies down with a sigh and pulls out his phone. “Do you have any suggestions?”
“What? For the lyrics?” Kenma asks, unconsciously moving closer to Kuroo. Kuroo notices, though, and leans his arm back for Kenma to lie into his side.
Kenma does, and Kuroo drapes his arm over Kenma’s shoulder. He pulls up his phone and shows it to Kenma, using that as an excuse to hold Kenma closer.
“Yeah. Most of the songs are kinda like story fantasies. The first one is supposed to be like a party song, Tora wrote that one. The third is about our childhood and Lev helped me with that one, the fourth is a boast-song like ‘you know we got this far and you didn’t’ or whatever—Yaku wrote that one not me—then the fifth is our closer and it’s like a ‘goodnight’ and ‘thanks for coming‘ type of thing. The second one… I don’t know.”
Kenma nods, grabbing Kuroo’s phone to scroll through his lyrics. After about a minute, he stops and hands the phone back. “Maybe write something more vulnerable? You said this song is all on you, right?”
Kuroo puts his phone down on the bed and nods. “Yeah. I don’t know what to write about though, that’s the thing. I don’t really have a lot…” He starts, knowing full well it’s a lie and he wants nothing more than to write about how his heart aches for his best friend and he wants nothing more than to be kissed, that all he wants is to be with Kenma. He wants to sing in choruses of “I want to be with you,” “I love you more than the world wants me to,” and “You’ve shown me what love is and I want to show you too.”
Kenma watches the yearning in his eyes as he zones out, each lyric patching itself together as a misshapen quilt in his head. Kuroo mumbles under his breath, and Kenma watches with interest piqued and eyes bright as the boy tries to figure himself out.
After a few minutes, he sighs. “I can’t write this, Kenma.”
“Why not?”
Kuroo shakes his head, then throws his hand through his hair. “They already made fun of me for the first draft I had, I can’t write this. They’ll hate me, my mom will hate me, you’ll… hate me.”
He realizes right away as it flies out of his mouth, and clamps his lips shut. He grits his teeth, eyes widening as Kenma looks up at him and cocks his head. He knows it’s too late to take it back.
“I’ll hate you?”
Kuroo takes a deep breath, and decides to push forward instead of backing off.
“You’ll hate me most of all.”
Kenma shakes his head, shuffling until he isn’t sitting beside Kuroo anymore but across from him atop his bed. “Why? What do you want the song to be about, really, Kuroo? What’s stopping you?”
“I…,” Kuroo starts, but then stops as soon as he’s about to confess. He decides to loop around it. “I’m in love with someone.”
Kenma nods. “Okay? Why would I hate you for that?” He looks Kuroo in the eye, and frowns when Kuroo looks down with reddening cheeks. He purses his lips, and harshly says, “Tell me who it is.”
Kuroo shakes his head. “I don’t want to.”
“Tell me.”
Kenma moves closer, his heart racing as he waits for an answer, scared of what it will be. Kuroo’s heart beats hard as well; Kenma can hear it as he moves closer and closer—until his face is merely inches away from Kuroo’s.
When Kuroo refuses to look at him, he grabs the latter’s jaw and yanks it upward until their eyes meet. Kenma’s teeth are clenched, and his eyes sit narrowed in on Kuroo’s. A blush spreads over his cheeks, but it’s definitely not from embarrassment. Kuroo assumes it’s from anger, but the way Kenma bites his lip ever so suggestively tells him that maybe he’s blushing for a different reason.
Kenma says one more time, though this time he whispers, “Tell me, Kuro.” His breath fans against Kuroo’s face, and the latter closes his eyes when his skin tingles and goosebumps arise on his cheeks.
“It’s…,” Kuroo starts, the feeling of Kenma’s hand clamped around his jaw weighing heavy. His other hand balances on Kuroo’s chest with a firm grip against his breast, clenching his heartbeat with a sweaty palm. His body rises and falls beneath the closeness. The urge to grab Kenma and kiss him as hard as he can is endless and all he wants is to hold him so close their bodies breathe together and he can feel Kenma’s heart beat hard against his own.
The image of Kenma with his body pressed against his sets Kuroo alight; his face flushes brighter and he doesn’t stop himself from resting his hands on Kenma’s hips and gripping just as hard as Kenma grabs at his chest.
Kenma’s eyes widen and his blush grows even deeper, but he doesn’t move. He stays there kneeling on the bed before his best friend, eyes peering down at Kuroo—who sits with crossed legs. Kuroo stares at Kenma’s neck, and his hoodie is draped off his shoulder ever so slightly, just enough to expose the very top of his collarbone. Kuroo wonders what it would be like to kiss Kenma's neck and collar.
“Don’t ignore me, Kuro,” he breathes, heart beating so loud that Kuroo can hear it with his own. Kenma grabs tighter at Kuroo’s chest and lifts his chin up higher, enough to see his jaw strain and hear him sigh.
Kuroo closes his eyes.
“It’s you.”
--
Kuroo peeks out of the stage’s side curtains for just a moment to take a look at their audience, his heart pounding underneath the strap over his chest.
It’s a full house (or, rather, bar), and it’s full of peers gossiping. Kuroo takes a deep breath and spins around to face his bandmates who are tuning up as they wait to be called on stage.
“Kuroo, calm your shit,” Yaku spits out, from where he sits on a stool as he loosens the strings on his bass. He clicks his tongue when one of the strings goes under and sighs. “We’re all tuning down half? For all five songs?”
Taketora walks over to look at his tuner. “No, just for the last two songs. The first three are standard tuned. What the hell are you doing?”
Kuroo shakes, his feet tapping at the ground as he thinks about what happened yesterday. As he thinks about what the band will do once they hear his lyrics for Song 2 for the first time tonight onstage.
Yaku groans, then throws the tuner at the ground. “I can’t fucking do this.”
Lev perks up from where he adjusts his hi-hats. “What do you mean? We’ve been looking forward to this for months—”
“That’s not what I mean! I’m just fucking nervous, alright?”
“You think we aren’t?” Taketora yells back, shaking his head and grabbing the tuner off the floor. “Don’t throw around your tuner like that, you’ll knock the light out of it and it’ll be useless.”
Yaku scoffs, “As if you care! Keep breaking strings on that fucking Fender and the knobs will rust from overturning.”
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t know you were the guitar god when you don’t even fucking play—”
Kuroo breaks down, and only then do his teammates realize how hard he’s crying. “Guys! Stop it!”
Lev shoots up from his stool, tripping over one of his toms and watching it tumble down with a loud crash. He jumps, like a cat, and apologizes over and over again as he tries to set it back up.
Kuroo puts his guitar down and moves to go help him, still sobbing as he goes.
“Nice going, you dumbass,” Tora snaps, kicking Lev while he’s on the ground trying to adjust the height of the tom.
Kuroo grabs Tora and knees him in the crotch as hard as he can, and when Yaku yells for him to stop he drops his bandmate to the ground and goes over to sit with Lev.
Yaku starts crying. “I can’t do this.”
Nobody tells him differently.
Kuroo cries harder.
“We shouldn’t have thought we could do this in the first place,” Yaku says, pulling his knees up to his chest. “None of us even fucking like each other. Lev’s a shit drummer and can’t keep time, Tora’s an absolute ass and can’t fingerpick for his life, my tendonitis has been doing me so bad I can’t keep on for a whole song, and the only person who I fucking had any faith in can’t even write the lyrics to a goddamn song—”
“I finished them.”
The room goes silent, and all of the boys turn to stare at Kuroo.
Yaku shakes his head. “You fucking told me last night that you didn’t have lyrics, Tetsurou! What kind of bullshit is ‘I finished them’? Huh? You made me have a breakdown for no fucking reason this morning trying to write up some bullshit for you! What the fuck do you mean by ‘I finished them,’ huh?” Yaku screams, holding his tuner in his hand so tightly that it cracks. He ignores it.
Kuroo yells right back. “I wasn’t going to use the fucking lyrics, that’s why! Because I knew you guys would be pissed off that I made the face of our band some fucking love song, and I knew that Kenma would be uncomfortable if I still used them after he fucking turned me down last night, okay?” He yells, then shakes his head. He stands up to go grab his guitar case where his notebook sits. He yanks it out and aggressively turns to his most recent page.
He throws the notebook to Yaku. “There! There’s my fucking lyrics. That’s all I have, but I swear to fucking God I didn’t work for seven hours on them crying and losing my shit just to let them sit out to dry. I didn’t fucking sleep last night after I lost my fucking best friend just for this stupid fucking band, okay? There’s your goddamn lyrics, Yaku.”
Kuroo sits back down on the ground and drops his head into his arms with a sigh.
Yaku reads the lyrics, his face softening from an angry frown to a pitied gasp. Once he finishes, he closes the notebook and passes it back to Kuroo, not letting Taketora or Lev touch it although they reach out to grab it.
The room sits silent for a few minutes, until Yaku sighs.
“I didn’t know you confessed,” Yaku whispers, looking down at the broken tuner in his palm. He shakes his head, then closes his eyes to keep more tears from coming. “I’m sorry, Kuroo.”
Kuroo shakes his head right back. “It’s not your fault. I knew it wouldn’t go over well and I still pushed him.”
“Still, being rejected isn’t fun…,” Yaku says, then sighs again. “Why didn’t you tell us earlier?”
“It’s not important.”
Lev gets up and sits down next to Kuroo, pulling him into a hug. He says nothing.
“I really thought he liked me back too, but then I told him that I was in love with him and he just.. Got up off me and left. Closed the door and I don’t even know where he went. I slept in his bed last night and he didn’t even come back to get his phone at any point. He was getting a shit ton of texts though, so he must’ve said something to someone,” Kuroo explains, then bites his lip. “He told me to use the lyrics I really want to, though, before he walked out on me… those are the ones I want to use.”
Yaku nods. “Alright. Use them. It’s better than having to scrap the song entirely,” he says, then bites his teeth together. “This is going to be big, though, you know that right? Coming out like this? It’s going to be out after this—you’re not going to be able to hide it anymore. Is that alright?”
Kuroo nods. “I just want it to be over. I’ll deal with the rest of it tomorrow.”
Yaku nods again, sighing. “Alright.” He stands up, dropping his broken tuner on the floor. “Alright, come on. We have five minutes before we go on. Get up. Tune up.”
Slowly, each of the boys stands up, staring back and forth at one another.
Yaku stops in his place. “Come on, we don’t have all day. Are you going to get your shit together or not? We have five minutes and we’re on. Oh, and we’re switching songs two and four. Keep them on their toes.”
--
Usually Kuroo Tetsurou loves being in the spotlight. But tonight, his stomach swims in circles and it takes everything in him to walk out. Usually he’s the first in the band onstage, but tonight he’s the last—trailing after Lev with his eyes trained on the ground.
He wonders if Kenma is still going to come like he said he would.
He doesn’t look out into the audience though, he’s too scared to. He sets up with his head down and doesn’t look up even when Yaku talks to the audience as they all get ready. He grabs Kuroo’s microphone and introduces everyone, and only then does Kuroo look up into the sea of people all watching him and waiting.
He smiles, bright, albeit fake, into the audience and his heart calms down when they all smile back at him.
“I’m happy to see all of you here,” Kuroo says into the microphone, taking it from Yaku after he plugs his guitar into the amp. “We’ve got five songs for you tonight. Our first is called ‘Red Lights’ and it was written by our rhythm guitarist Taketora. Hope you all enjoy it!”
It’s as soon as he hears the click of Lev’s drumsticks and the, “1.. 2.. 3..,” that Kuroo’s head disappears and is replaced with a fever. He’s shaky for the first verse, but when the chorus hits, along with a sharp drop of instruments, he feels the music thrum in his chest.
He’s surrounded by nothing but the snap of the snare drum as he sings, “I’ve got nothing left to offer, nothing left to say under the red lights—”
The room blasts open with noise once again as soon as he starts the chorus, the bass thumping and guitars shredding underneath the bright stage lights. Kuroo forgets where he is, and he forgets about Kenma, for the rest of the song as he and his bandmates jump around the stage and laugh with one another.
He’s smiling all throughout the second song too, this one called “Boys in a Band” and honestly? It’s his least favorite because he hates singing about how much better he is than other people, but knowing that Yaku wrote it always makes him laugh and he has fun, even if he’s glad when it’s over.
The third is called “Snowboard,” and while it’s slower than the other two, he and Lev wrote this one together about the last winter that they saw snow come down—back when they were children and had no idea what was going to happen when they grew up. Kuroo recounts his memories of snowboarding and sledding, and wishes he could do it all over again.
He doesn’t have much fun singing, though, not when he knows what’s coming up next and it eats his entire heart whole.
When the last D chord rings out in the bar, his heart begins to thump and he takes a deep breath as he approaches the microphone amidst the clapping and hollering.
“Our fourth song, to me, is the most special. I wrote this in six hours last night, actually, as it’s the only song we didn’t have lyrics for until today when I told myself to get over my fears and just use them.
“This is my song, ‘The Boy I Want.’ Wrote this one all by myself,” Kuroo laughs, then steps away from the microphone for a second to take a deep breath.
He looks back at Lev, who cocks an eyebrow, wondering if after all Kuroo decided to use the same song they bullied him for the other day. It isn’t the same song, however, it’s very much different. The title though, Kuroo knows he can’t bear to lose. It’s the only thing he wants Kenma to hear.
Lev starts the song with drums, and each of the boys hesitantly goes into playing their part. It’s not a demanding song, and it’s slow, so each takes their turn staring Kuroo down as they wait for him to start singing.
He draws himself up to the microphone after about twenty seconds, then takes a deep breath.
“I want you more than I have ever bargained for, I love you even though you left me mourning, I love you even when you didn’t even call me in the morning.”
Kuroo continues singing, though his voice is shaky out of fear of what will happen when the song is over.
He’s singing about a boy, for fuck’s sake. Not only is he coming out, but if Kenma’s here he’ll know exactly who this song is for.
“I’ll love you always…”
Speaking of Kenma, as soon as he enters Kuroo’s mind he doesn’t leave. Kuroo is left singing with his head full, staring into the crowd feverishly looking to see if the boy showed up to his gig like he said he would before the confession.
Kuroo peers around and sees classmates staring at him in shock, waitresses watching him as they walk around with trays of drinks, and his own mom with her jaw dropped open as she watches.
“See, I’ll love you always…”
He brushes that off and looks even further, searching for Kenma more than anyone.
It isn’t until the song is almost over that he finds what he’s looking for.
It’s as he sings, “I want you more than the world wants to see, I want to be with you,” that he makes solemn eye contact with one Kenma Kozume who stands in the back of the bar, alone, with his arms crossed and tears falling down his face. He has eyes so red it's inevitable that he’s been crying the entire set.
Kuroo can’t help from crying as soon as Kenma makes eye contact with him and covers his mouth with one hand. With the other, he waves shakily before wiping his eyes and pursing his lips.
“You showed me how to love, now I want to show you—I love you more than anything, I want to be with you.”
Kenma stands up straight when he realizes that Kuroo isn’t about to look away. Once he sees that Kuroo is crying too, he walks a few steps forward because it’s in his nature to want to soothe him. He stops when he realizes there’s a crowd keeping him from going any further, but he holds his hand on his heart and the other one clenches the strings of his hoodie as he’s absorbed into the image of Kuroo onstage, raw and vulnerable as he sings just for Kenma.
“I’ll love you always…”
It’s as if nobody else exists, even when the song has reached its end and Kuroo is showered in roars of applause—the two lock stares and their hearts thump together, in rhythm, as they breathe heavily amongst the noise.
“I’ll love you always…”
Kuroo isn’t himself through the last song, though he’s still able to put on a performance. Kenma doesn’t feel like himself either, he feels nothing but guilt as he cries—antsily waiting for the show to be over so he can run backstage and kiss Kuroo so hard he can’t feel his lips. He can’t wait to kiss Kuroo, and hold him so tightly that it makes up for the fact that he left him alone last night.
As soon as the last song is over and the curtains close, Kenma bolts.
--
Once the band finishes the set and the curtains close, Kuroo breaks down crying.
Yaku is quick to embrace Kuroo, sitting down with him on the ground backstage and rubbing his back as he cries so loud the audience could probably hear it.
“Tetsurou, shhh…,” Yaku murmurs, paying no mind to Lev whose attention is diverted to something outside the room. He walks away from the band to the door, yet Yaku continues to soothe Kuroo. “I know, I know… you saw him, didn’t you?”
Kuroo shakes his head, then nods, then shakes his head again. “I want to go home,” he manages to get out over the sobbing. He pushes Yaku off of him, then wobbles to stand up. “I’m going to go find my mom and go home.”
Yaku is about to speak when he sees Lev walk back into the room with wide eyes.
“Tetsu—” He starts, but is cut off brutally when he’s shoved aside by a figure running into the room.
It barrels towards Kuroo, and only when Kuroo ends up with the figure wrapped around him does Yaku realize who it is.
“Kuro,” Kenma says, albeit shakily. He grabs onto Kuroo’s abdomen and doesn’t let go. “I love you.”
No one in the room speaks, including Kuroo who bites his lip.
Kenma holds his breath as he waits for an answer, or at least for Kuroo to hug him back. Once he receives neither, he decides to do the talking instead.
“I’m so sorry, Kuro,” he murmurs, attempting to make eye contact with Kuroo. However, Kuroo won’t budge. “I didn’t know what to do, I was so scared of what I was feeling and I was scared you wouldn’t like me anymore if I told you that. So I left, and I did come back to tuck you in and text your mom to tell her you were spending the night and I slept downstairs on the couch to give you space and I’m so sorry but I love you so much, and I can’t believe you wrote a song for me, Kuro, I just…”
Kuroo moves his head down slowly. He can’t contain himself any longer when he sees Kenma’s eyes, and sees how hard he’s been crying.
Kuroo hugs him back, tightly, and digs his head into Kenma’s neck. He doesn’t know how to respond, so he doesn’t. Instead, he lifts his head up to look down at Kenma one more time.
“Can I kiss you?” Kuroo asks, quietly, as he moves his hand up to cup Kenma’s cheek softly. He leaves his other hand resting on Kenma’s back.
Kenma steps up onto his tiptoes to reach Kuroo, and Kuroo takes that as an answer to go ahead.
He presses their foreheads together first, then slides his hand from Kenma’s cheek to his neck where he holds his head as he leans down to kiss him, at first gently and sweetly.
When Kenma kisses him back, though, it’s hard to contain himself.
Kuroo’s bandmates watch for a minute, but soon enough Yaku grabs the two of them and walks them outside to give Kuroo time alone with Kenma, and to discuss how Lev dropped a drumstick during the third song and he should be eviscerated for it.
Kuroo kisses Kenma once again, harder, after they’re left alone. Kenma gasps when Kuroo wraps both of his arms around Kenma’s waist and holds him tightly against his own body.
Kenma giggles when Kuroo separates from him to catch his breath, and wraps his arms around Kuroo’s neck. “You’re going to have to write so many songs about me now.”
Kuroo shakes his head, then kisses Kenma’s neck a few times. “No, I’m going to have to write all of my songs about you now.”
The two laugh together, Kuroo’s heart feels infinitely lighter as he kisses Kenma one more time before letting him go.
“You did really, really well, Kuro,” Kenma says, after wiping the spit off his lips and regaining his composure. He smiles at his best friend (now more) before continuing. “I’m going to brag about you so much.”
Kuroo laughs. “I didn’t think you were going to come.”
“I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”
Kenma holds his hands out for Kuroo to take in his own.
“What does this mean for us now, Kenma?”
He shrugs. “Whatever you want it to.”
“Will you be my boyfriend?”
Kenma bites his lip, blushing as he looks down at the floor. “I would like that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really,” Kenma says, hiding his face shyly as he blushes harder. “As long as you keep doing my chem homework for me.”
Kuroo scoffs. “Okay.”
“And you keep writing songs about me, because it’s really hot.”
“Okay.”
“And…,” Kenma starts, then pauses to look up at Kuroo. “You let me brag to everyone that my hot boyfriend is in a band and has the voice of an angel.”
Kuroo blushes in return, holding Kenma’s hands tighter as he looks at the ground.
“Okay.”
Kenma sighs, though it’s a good one. A breath of relief, of fresh air.
He giggles. “Then you’ve got me.”