Archive of Our Own

“Nekoma, down by 10 with 2 minutes left on the clock. Can they manage to pull this one out? Or is it a lost cause? Tetsurou Kuroo shoots a three and - it’s good! The crowd roars!” 

Kenma wakes to the blaring of his alarm. He throws an arm over his face. God, it’s far too early to be awake. Maybe he can hit the snooze button, catch a couple more minutes of sleep. He looks with bleary eyes at his phone screen. 

Fuck, nope, not happening. He’s supposed to be at his first 10:05 class in twenty minutes. Grumbling to himself, he picks up one of his oversized Nekoma hoodies - the one his mother had gotten him the day he’d gotten into Nekoma - and throws it over his head. The sleeves fall far below his hands, but he loves it. It’s comforting, in a way.

As he pulls on his pants, he thinks back to his dream. Had he been dreaming about basketball ? Ugh. Kenma’s one of the few Nekoma students, he thinks, that has absolutely no interest in basketball whatsoever. Basketball is Nekoma University’s greatest export and primary claim to thread. They’re famous for their men’s basketball team: five National Championships in the last twenty years. However, Kenma doesn’t care the slightest bit. He’s never been a sports enthusiast in the first place, but basketball appeals to him even less - it’s just a bunch of big dudes running down a court and getting sweaty, then hurling balls into hoops. He couldn’t care less if he tried. 

He pulls his long hair back into a ponytail and steps out the door, finally taking the time to check his messages. One of them is from his old friend, Shouyou. It’s a selfie of Shouyou in front of the Karasuno logo, his face twisted up into a smile as he holds up a peace sign. Kenma rolls his eyes. His old friend had chosen to go to Nekoma’s biggest rival and, in Kenma’s honest opinion, the most obnoxious school on the planet for whatever godforsaken reason. He replies happy for you, but you made the wrong choice before he clicks over to his second message: a message from his friend Shouhei. 

Good luck with your first day of spring classes! Wanna get lunch after class? ∩(︶▽︶)∩ it says, in typical Shouhei style. Kenma kind of wishes he could pull off the cutesy emojis Shouhei always sends. Except… not really.

thanks. and yeah, i’ll meet you at east union after class for lunch, he sends back. Well, at least he won’t have to get lunch alone today. At least there’s that. 

But Kenma seriously, seriously hates the first day of classes.

He hates walking into a classroom filled with people he doesn’t know and trying to find somewhere to sit. He hates listening to professors go through their syllabi. He hates the stupid ice-breaking activities and having to come up with facts about his life. Fact : nothing interesting ever happens to college student Kenma Kozume. Well, unless you count that he’d won every Super Smash Bros tournament that Nekoma had hosted last year, but he supposes most people wouldn’t find that to be too interesting. Besides, it’d paint him as a major nerd on the first day of class. 

He sighs to himself. This is going to be a nightmare, he thinks, and his first class is some film class he’d had to take in order to fulfill the Arts component of his university’s general education requirements. 

Slowly, he slinks into the classroom. It’s an auditorium style class, so he quickly makes his way to the back row and takes a seat. Thankfully, there’s no one else in his row. All the nerds are gathered at the front. But wait, about halfway down, there’s a really tall guy and - huh . That hair looks awfully familiar. 

Kenma doesn’t care for basketball one bit, it’s true. But unfortunately, going to Nekoma means that he’s surrounded by people that do - people like his friend Taketora Yamamoto, who, despite being the star of Nekoma’s soccer team, hero worships the basketball team and anything to do with it. In particular, there’s one player he talks about all the time and has sent Kenma no less than one hundred photos of.

That player is Tetsurou Kuroo. Tetsurou is Nekoma’s center, a tall guy with a distinctively messy bedhead, and Kenma’s approximately ninety percent sure that Tetsurou Kuroo is sitting a couple of rows in front of him, leaning back as if he hasn’t a care in the world. 

Kenma’s about to take out his phone to snap a photo and send it to Taketora for verification when the professor clears her throat at the front of the room. “Hello, and welcome to Film 103,” she says, then launches into her spiel about the format of the class and the assignments or whatever. Kenma slouches down into his chair, completely zoned out. His attention only catches on when he hears her say, “And the main assignment for this class will be a semester-long group project.” 

Group project?! Semester-long?! God, it’s Kenma’s worst nightmare. He considers going online and looking to see if he can switch out of the class. There has to be another option, right? Another class that counts towards the art requirement -

“Your groups are projected onto the board, along with the part of the room where you should be meeting them,” the professor says, pointing one finger towards the projection. “Please find your group members now.”

Kenma considers his options. Darting out of the room at the speed of light would draw more attention to him, and he thinks he’d die of embarrassment on the spot. He could stay in his seat, but then people would talk to him and ask him to move and he doesn’t want that, either. So he’s left with only one option. 

He grabs all his stuff and heads over to where group 5 is, and then he stops short in his tracks.

He’d only read his name on the board, not bothering to read the other group members’ because he’d figured that he didn’t know anyone in the class anyways so it didn’t really matter. But this means that he hadn’t realized until right this instant that Tetsurou Kuroo is apparently a member of his group. He’s sitting in one of the seats, his too-long legs spread out and a self-satisfied look on his face that Kenma despises. 

He glances back at the board. There’s no fucking way, he thinks, but there it is - right beside Kenma Kozume, Tetsurou Kuroo, along with two other random names that must be the names of the two other girls in their group. He grinds his teeth as he steps over towards his group. 

And just as he’d been thinking about how much he isn’t a fan of the basketball team, too.

“Hey,” Tetsurou says, leaning forward as Kenma approaches. “Group 5?”

“Yeah,” Kenma says. Unfortunately. He manages a fake smile, then sits down, content to let Tetsurou converse with the other two girls who introduce themselves as Maya and Jen. One of them launches into a speech about how much she loves the basketball team and how much she’d admired Tetsurou’s last season. Kenma closes his eyes and rubs at his temple to stop the headache from setting in. If he can’t find a way out of this damn class, it is going to be a long-ass semester. 

The teacher gives them a little time to get acquainted. Kenma half-listens to the other three in his group chatting about their winter breaks - Tetsurou with his training, of course, and one girl had gone to Europe, while the other had worked at her parents’ store for most of the break. Kenma doesn’t offer anything, and they don’t really ask him anything either.

After that, the class transitions back into the normal lecture where the professor outlines what they’ll be learning in the class. Kenma zones back out, imagining when the class is finally over and he’s done with lunch and he can head back to his dorm room, maybe get in a few hours of Breath of the Wild before his class at 3:05.

He jumps out of his seat quickly once the class finishes, adamant on making it to East Union as soon as possible to beat the lunch rush, but then he hears a deep voice behind him call, “Kenma, wait.”

He turns around, his brows knitting together because he doesn’t know anyone in this class, who the hell would be calling him by name? Behind him, though, is a very sheepish-looking Tetsurou Kuroo, and Kenma nearly has a heart attack on the spot. 

“It is Kenma, right?” Tetsurou asks.

“Yeah,” Kenma says, and waits - waits, he supposes, to figure out why the hell Tetsurou Kuroo is talking to him.

Tetsurou grins and falls into step with Kenma as they start walking to the union. “I’m Tetsurou Kuroo. Just wanted to say hi since, y’know, we’re in the same group and everything. Figured we should at least be on friendly terms.”

If Kenma’s being honest with himself, Kenma doesn’t really care to be on friendly terms with him. He has his own preconceived notions of the basketball team and, well, they don’t exactly seem like people Kenma cares to be associated with. “I know who you are,” he says in response. 

“Oho?” Tetsurou asks. “You a basketball fan, then?”

“No, not exactly,” Kenma replies, not wanting any part in this conversation at all.

Tetsurou’s eyes get bigger. Kenma gets the feeling that he isn’t often told that people aren’t a fan of him or his sport, and feels a weird kind of happiness in that. “Whaaat? But we’re so good! We made it to the Elite Eight last year, y’know?”

“Yeah, but not the Final Four,” Kenma says. “And I had our team going all the way, so you kind of fucked up my bracket.”

“Ah, my sincerest apologies,” Tetsurou replies in an almost snarky tone. His face lightens a little bit, though, as he says, “Don’t worry, though. I plan on making it all the way this year. And winning the tournament, too.”

Kenma glances over at him dryly. “You sure have a high opinion of yourself,” he says.

“Not of myself, really,” Tetsurou replies quickly. “Nah, basketball’s not a sport that you can win by yourself. It’s my whole team that I think has the potential to win it all this year. But, well, I guess you’ll see, won’t you?”

“I guess I will,” Kenma says, because it’s not like he has a choice. He’ll find out how well the team does regardless of whether he wants to or not.

They make it to the doors of East Union, and Kenma lets his gaze flicker over to Tetsurou. He knows that he has to get away from Tetsurou as soon as possible. Just being in his general vicinity, walking next to him, talking to him, is enough to draw far more attention than Kenma would like. It’s not as though Tetsurou has the possibility to be undercover with his tall stature and unmistakable hairstyle. Before he can say anything, though, Tetsurou says, “Are you, uh, getting lunch here?”

“Yeah,” Kenma says. “Meeting a friend.” He glances down at his phone - 2nd floor, near the windows on the left, the message reads. “I’m gonna go.”

“Okay,” Tetsurou says. Kenma doesn’t understand the expression on his face. It looks almost like disappointment, but there’s no way that should be possible, right? He pinches himself to snap him out of it. “I gotta go meet one of the stupid freshmen anyways. Told him I’d help with a homework assignment. But, well, it was nice to meet you, Kenma.” He flashes a big smile before he heads off in the opposite direction.

Kenma stands, shellshocked, for a minute. There’s no way that any of that had happened, right? And had Tetsurou Kuroo just said he was going to tutor a freshman? That certainly doesn’t add up with the image of Tetsurou Kenma has in his mind, built through Taketora’s wild stories and the general rumors he hears around campus of Tetsurou being a party animal socialite who’s dating a new girl each week. He shakes his head to clear it and heads over to the pizza bar for a truly nutritious lunch. 

“Hey,” Shouhei says once Kenma sits down. “You look... frazzled.”

“Yeah,” Kenma says. “Hey, you know Tetsurou Kuroo?”

“Although I admit I’m a nerd,” Shouhei replies, “I’m not a big enough nerd to not know the most popular basketball player on this basketball-obsessed campus. So yeah, I do know of him. What about him?”

“We’re in the same group for the film group project,” Kenma says in between tiny bites of his pizza. “And after class, he followed me here to talk to me. And he knows my name.”

“Hah,” Shouhei says, his smile brightening. “So you mean to tell me you’re living Tora’s dream life.”

“Ugh,” Kenma groans. “I guess so, yeah. But it’s not like I want to be living Tora’s dream life. I didn’t ask him to talk to me. I don’t know why he even wants to.”

“I dunno,” Shouhei says. “Maybe it’s just that you’re a likable person. Or maybe…” Shouhei leans forward, waggling his eyebrows suggestively at Kenma. “Just maybe, he thinks you’re hot.”

Kenma’s chest drops for some godforsaken reason. He stares at Shouhei in abject horror. “You think he thinks I’m hot? Wait.” He pauses, letting his brain catch up to this bizarre conversation. “You think he’s interested in men ? Hasn’t he been rumored to have dated half of the campus or something?”

“First of all,” Shouhei says, tapping his pointer finger, “bisexual people exist. Second of all, yeah, he has. But who knows? Maybe he’s looking to add another notch to his bedpost and suddenly he’s into game-obsessed loners that wash their hair every five days.”

“God,” Kenma moans. “If I ever make the decision to sleep with Tetsurou Kuroo of all people, please just kill me or something.”

“That would require you to leave your room, so I doubt it’ll happen,” Shouhei points out, and as much as Kenma adores Shouhei for being one of the only tolerable people on their campus, he really wants to kick Shouhei in the shin about right then.

.

Two days pass, two blissful days where Kenma doesn’t have to think about basketball or Tetsurou Kuroo or anything of the sort. But before he knows it, it’s Wednesday again, and Kenma’s on the way to his stupid film course.

He’d tried to switch out of it, he really had, but all the other sections were full and the other art coded courses that weren’t full required too much of Kenma - actual effort in painting or sculpting or ceramics, effort Kenma isn’t willing to give. So he tells himself that he’ll make it through this semester… somehow.

The projection on the board proclaims they’re to sit with their group project groups. Kenma considers emailing the professor and begging to switch, but decides it’s not worth it. He could somehow end up getting an even worse group. He slowly moves towards his group, hiding himself inside of his hoodie as much as possible. Of course, it doesn’t work.

“Hey, Kenma,” Tetsurou says, his tone so thick Kenma can’t tell if he’s being sincere or slimy. “Good to see you.”

Kenma blinks at him, then manages a “Hi” so he won’t look like a total asshole. He sits down - next to Jen, because Jen and Maya have already claimed the spaces next to Tetsurou. Both of them offer him smiles of greeting that he tries to halfway return. 

The class period is spent with an introductory lecture. Kenma spends half of it trying to write notes to stay awake, the other half dozing off, too warm in his hoodie. Once, though, when he’s startled awake, he swears he glances over to see Tetsurou’s gaze on him. Tetsurou’s eyes snap back to the board once he sees Kenma looking back, though.

Why was he looking? Kenma wonders. Why does he care? He’s a basketball player, one of the few on the team rumored to get a high draft placement once he graduates in two years - if he sticks around that long. What business would he have with Kenma, one of the few people in their university who’s not at all interested in basketball or in him? 

After the lecture is over, Kenma gathers up his stuff and takes off as quickly as possible, praying to get away from Tetsurou before Tetsurou can try to talk to him again. He makes it about a minute of walking before someone jogs up beside him. 

“Hey, Kenma,” Tetsurou says, sounding out of breath - and damn, how fast had he run to be able to catch up to Kenma? Had he chased down Kenma from the classroom all the way to here? Well, he certainly has to have the stamina if he’s a starter on the basketball team, considering how much the players seem to run up and down the court in the basketball games. But regardless…

“Tetsurou,” Kenma replies measuredly, crossing his arms across his chest.

“I just came to let you know that we’re going to be having a group meeting this Tuesday afternoon, around 2,” he pants out, pulling up the corner of his Nekoma basketball hoodie to wipe his brow. “It’s the only time that Jen, Maya, and I were all free, but if it doesn’t work for you, we can reconsider.”

2. 2 . Kenma thinks for a second - he has class at 11:45, and another class at 3:05, but 2 should be fine. Still, half of him wants to make life difficult for Tetsurou and tell him that he has class. But - ugh - when had he become such a good person? He scrunches up his nose. “I can do two, I guess.”

“Great,” Tetsurou says, a small smile spreading over his lips. “Oh, and do you mind if I get your number? I just - we’re setting up a group chat, so it’d be nice to have everyone in one place to disseminate information about the project, y’know?” 

Kenma just stares at him for a moment, bewildered. The thing that’s confusing him is that, well, he’s heard so much about Tetsurou. He’s even personally seen Tetsurou talking to girls, leaning up against the wall in a hallway with a charming smile on his face. Taketora, Tetsurou fanboy that he is, has tried to keep up with who Tetsurou’s dating each week, but never seems to be able to keep track of the rumors that float around school. But, well, Tetsurou’s acting positively awkward right now. There’s no confidence in his stammering and over-explanation. 

Is this how Tetsurou gets girls’ numbers usually? Kenma wonders. And - had he just used the word disseminate in a completely casual conversation?

“You’re only going to text me about project-related things?” Kenma asks.

“Hah,” Tetsurou says. “Yeah, of course. What else would I text you about?”

“I don’t know,” Kenma says, because well, he had made that kind of weird. “Basketball shit. Pictures of cats. I don’t know what people like you usually text about.” And shit, that hadn’t come out the way Kenma had intended, either. Still, he’s never been one to mince words.

Thankfully, Tetsurou doesn’t look all that offended. “I text about completely normal things,” he protests. “I was just talking about Disney movies with one of my best friends. My entire life isn't just basketball 24/7, you know.”

“Ah,” Kenma says, not sure what exactly to do with this information. “Well, that’s good to hear. Give me your phone, then.”

Tetsurou nods, handing it over into Kenma’s grasp. Tetsurou has a pretty nice phone, Kenma notes. It makes sense, he figures. Basketball players, especially at big basketball schools like Nekoma and especially starters, tend to get full scholarships - meaning Tetsurou has plenty of money to blow on other things. Kenma can’t help but envy him a little bit. As Kenma passes it back, Tetsurou asks, “So are you gonna be mad if I text you pictures of cats?”

“I don’t think anyone could actually be mad about cat photos,” Kenma says, “as long as it’s actual pictures of cats, and you’re not making some weird innuendo.”

Kenma’s not sure what he’s expecting in response to that, but it’s certainly not for Tetsurou to laugh. Though he’s not even sure it can be called a laugh - it’s more like a cackle, loud, obnoxious, and free. He wonders absently if Taketora knows that his idol laughs like an evil genius. He hopes that he can be the one to break the news to him.

Once Tetsurou’s done laughing, his smile fades into a smirk. “You know, Kenma, you’re actually pretty funny.” 

Kenma gives a little shrug. “I guess.”

“I look forward to working with you on the group project,” Tetsurou says as they finally begin to approach East Union. “Though I’m hoping you won’t be skipping out on class early and missing all of our group discussions.” 

Kenma isn’t typically a violent person. He prefers to use words to wound people instead. Still, in this moment, he kind of wants to kick Tetsurou Kuroo’s ass.

“I didn’t skip out on class early, first of all,” Kenma grumbles, not making eye contact with Tetsurou lest Tetsurou see that his provocation had worked. “I left as soon as class ended. Key word being ended. No one told me we were having a mandatory meeting after class. Second of all, I’m not a slacker.”

“I didn’t say you were,” Tetsurou says, but there’s something about the glint in his eyes that makes Kenma not believe him one bit. 

“I do my work,” Kenma says, then questions why the hell he’s defending himself to this random guy he doesn't give two shits about anyways. He bites down on his lip and then says, “I have to go. Lunch.”

“Ah, of course,” Tetsurou says. “Enjoy your lunch. I’ve got freshman duty again today, unfortunately.”

“Thanks,” Kenma says, because he’s not sure what else to say. And he’s not sure what to think, either, as Tetsurou walks away. What the hell kind of basketball player talks like he’s a walking dictionary and is awkward when talking to someone like Kenma and spends all of his free time volunteering with the freshmen on his team and has a laugh like a fucking hyena?

A weird one, Kenma decides as he heads up to get a slice of apple pie - his comfort food, which he’s sure Shouhei will call him out on. But Kenma needs something to soothe his cluttered mind, and though he’s not usually one to eat his feelings away…

Well, he’s not opposed to it either.

.

He’s hanging out with Taketora and Shouhei in the common room later that day, half-working on homework and half-playing Breath of the Wild on his Switch - well, more of the latter than the former - when his phone buzzes. Assuming it must be Shouyou because almost everyone else he texts is in the room with him at the moment, he eagerly checks his phone only to see it’s a text from an unknown number.

What the hell? He thinks, swiping the notification to open it. Hi, is this Kenma? , the message reads. It’s Tetsurou Kuroo. Just wanted to check with you before I add some random to a Film group chat. 

Kenma blinks. Huh. Interesting, he thinks. Weirdly considerate. 

yeah, hi. this is kenma. 

Not his most enthusiastic message ever, but it’ll do. He watches as the notifications start to flood in: messages from Jen and Maya and Tetsurou, saying hi and welcoming him to the group chat. He groans audibly before sending a basic hello, and Taketora glances up at him.

“Kenma, man, the hell is goin’ on with you?” he asks. “You look like you’re about to actually kill someone.”

“Your stupid idol,” Kenma grumbles.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Taketora says. “My stupid what? I don’t have an idol.”

“Your idol on the basketball team,” Kenma says flatly. “Tetsurou Kuroo.”

“Wait, you know Tetsurou Kuroo?” The earphones are suddenly ripped out of Taketora’s ears, and before Kenma can attempt to run away, Taketora’s by his side, looking at him with huge eyes. “Tell me more. Like, right now.”

Kenma knows Taketora well enough to know that there’s no getting out of this, so he launches into the story of how they’d somehow gotten slapped into the same group project and now were unfortunately destined to spend the rest of the semester in each other’s company. Taketora’s eyes only get bigger and bigger as Kenma keeps talking, and when he finishes, he whirls on Shouhei. “You knew about this?”

“Yeah,” Shouhei says.

“Whaaa? You tell him, who barely even knows that sports exist, and not me?”

“I know some stuff about the team,” Shouhei interjects. 

“Oh yeah? What’s the name of our seven foot freshman walk-on that’s apparently making great progress, then?”

Shouhei just grins, a clear indication that he’s giving up on the conversation - unlike Kenma and Taketora, who are more than happy to argue for hours on end, Shouhei knows when he’s been beaten. Kenma jumps in to say, “I guess I was hoping if I didn’t keep talking about it, I could pretend it wasn’t happening.”

“Kenma,” Taketora says, very seriously. “This is the coolest thing to ever happen to you.”

Kenma rolls his eyes, slipping one earphone into his ear in hopes of blocking out Taketora’s noisiness. “It’s not, really.”

“Tetsurou Kuroo is showing interest in you,” Taketora says.

“No, he isn’t.”

“He totally is,” Taketora says. “He chased you down after class two times! He didn’t have to do that.”

“Yes, he did, since we’re in the same group project.”

Unfortunately, though, Taketora Yamamoto lives in his own fantasy universe: one that has absolutely zero basis in reality. And he’s already taken off down the road of dreams, it seems, because he says, “Hey, if the two of you start dating, you’ll introduce me to him, won’t you?”

“No,” Kenma says, “because we’re absolutely not going to end up dating.” And - even though Taketora is one of the most supportive allies he’s ever met - he suddenly greatly regrets ever even hinting to Taketora that he’s gay. 

.

And Kenma does fully believe that Tetsurou Kuroo isn’t interested in him. It doesn’t make any sense for him to be. But then, later that weekend, his phone buzzes again with a message from an unknown number. Swiping it open, he finds that it’s a photo of a cat. 

You said you wouldn’t be angry if I texted you pictures of cats, the message reads, so I thought I’d show you this girl. She tends to hang out on campus sometimes and some buddies and I have been feeding her. We’re thinking of naming her Peach.

Kenma hesitates for a moment again, his thumb hovering over the message bar. What the hell kind of person is Tetsurou Kuroo, anyways? Not only does he volunteer tutor and help out with his underclassmen, now he’s feeding stray cats? What’s next - he volunteers at a nursing home on the weekends? Or is he just trying to show off for Kenma? But why the hell would he want to do that? What benefit would he gain from looking good to a random member of his group project? 

peach, he replies, like the mario character? 

Huh, I didn’t make that connection, Tetsurou replies. Guess you could say that. But I was thinking she’s sweet like a peach. Then comes another message, just seconds later: Actually I take that back, forget you saw that. Embarrassing as hell. So are you a gamer then?

Kenma can’t help but chuckle to himself, picturing the big, scary Tetsurou Kuroo’s long fingers frantically flying over his phone screen to save himself from this embarrassment. He types back, i guess you could say that, since i do spend most of my free time playing games.

He’s not sure why he’s replying, honestly, even as he reads the response from Tetsurou asking about what his favorite games are and starts typing a response about how it’s completely impossible to choose. He chalks it up to curiosity. Tetsurou Kuroo is an enigma; the Tetsurou Kuroo that he’s gotten to know a little bit over the past couple of days is completely dissonant from the Tetsurou Kuroo that he’d constructed in his own head. And he wants to deconstruct that Tetsurou. It’s like a puzzle: he wants to take Tetsurou apart piece by piece until he sees exactly what Tetsurou is made of.

So he asks, what about you, do you play video games? and considers what he can take away from the response: Tetsurou explaining that all of the athletes play video games together, actually, that he’s a complete boss at Mario Kart and Mario Party. Kenma’s not sure how much he believes that and thinks he’d find some kind of sick pleasure in crushing Tetsurou at Nintendo games.

He balls up his fist and slowly releases it. It’s an oddly dangerous train of thought, and Kenma has no desire to follow it, to see where it leads.

.

The next Tuesday, Kenma shows up at his usual time and slides into the chair beside Tetsurou this time without thinking about it. He freezes up and is about to slide over, to let Jen sit in her usual spot, but Tetsurou says, “Hey, it’s fine. The first arrival gets to claim the coveted spot next to my highly enticing self.” Kenma scowls at him in response, and Tetsurou quickly backtracks. “But hey, if I stink or something, you can move, I’ll understand.” 

Kenma sighs, knowing that he’s stuck now. If he moves, then it’ll be awkward: Tetsurou will assume it means that he’s got something against Tetsurou, which isn’t really true. So he stays in his seat and pulls out his phone, intending to play some stupid rhythm app he’d downloaded until the class starts to distract himself.

But then Tetsurou leans over to him, his eyes focused on the screen of Kenma’s phone - which, what the hell. “What are you playing?” Tetsurou asks.

“Uh, I don’t know,” Kenma says, because he honestly doesn’t know. “I just download apps to have something to do when I’m bored, I guess.” 

“Ah,” Tetsurou says. “Are you any good at it, then?”

“I guess,” Kenma replies. “It’s not really a game where it’s all that impressive if you’re good at it, though. So I don’t think it matters either way.” He glances up from his phone at Tetsurou, who is nodding along like this is educational for him somehow, but also at Jen, whose eyes are big. She quickly glances back down to her notebook, though, and Kenma wonders what she must be thinking. It’s certainly the most he’s said in front of her.

Maya makes it to the classroom, then, and her expression changes upon realizing that Kenma’s in her usual seat. She doesn’t seem all that angry either, though - more just surprised, but she takes the seat next to Kenma as the professor launches into her lecture. Kenma leans back in his chair and closes his eyes, hoping to catch a few minutes more sleep without being caught.

But a few minutes later, there’s something sharp being jammed into his side. His eyes shoot open, and he glares over to his left, where Tetsurou’s looking at him innocently. “Sorry,” he whispers. “She looked like she was about to call on you.” 

“Kenma Kozume,” she says, and Kenma glances over at Tetsurou frantically. Tetsurou hisses, “Just say your favorite movie.”

Kenma pulls some bullshit out - he doesn’t really have a favorite movie, but she doesn’t have to know that. It seems to placate her, though, because she incorporates it into the lecture. Kenma glances over at Tetsurou. “Thanks,” he says quietly.

“Of course,” Tetsurou says, flashing him a sunny smile, and Kenma finds himself even more confused than ever.

He didn’t have to do that. So why did he?

.

Later that night, he finds himself sitting in front of his brightly illuminated laptop screen, typing Tetsurou Kuroo into the Google search bar. The top results are all highlight videos. That’s not what Kenma’s looking for, though. 

He clicks on Tetsurou’s Instagram first. It’s about what he’d expect from a basketball star: lots of pictures of him playing, of him with his family, and a couple of pictures of cats. He also finds a picture with Tetsurou and someone significantly taller than him, which is unbelievable to Kenma. Tetsurou’s already what feels like almost a foot taller than him. Clicking on the tag, he finds that it’s Lev Haiba - the ‘seven foot’ freshman that Taketora’s always yelling at. Lev’s profile gives him a headache, though, and he quickly goes away from that.

He clicks on Tetsurou’s Twitter next. The tweets are mostly innocuous - more cat photos, stupid humor retweets, talking about games and tweeting with his teammates. (And, yes, there is a picture of Tetsurou at a nursing home that makes Kenma want to die a little bit.)

He just doesn’t get it, though. Kenma’s always been relatively good at reading people. He had Taketora completely figured out in minutes. Shouhei took a little longer, but not significantly, and the same for Shouyou. But somehow Tetsurou, who should be the most straightforward of them all, is taking far too long to figure out. Kenma hates it.

His phone buzzes with another text from Tetsurou. Hey, it says. Want the notes you missed today in class when you were sleeping?

What the hell? This makes no sense at all. Tetsurou can’t be this genuinely nice, can he? He wants to reply with please explain to me your motivations or what the hell is going on but he can’t. 

Instead, he replies with yes and then screams into his pillow, grateful that he has a single room so that no one has to witness his stupid basketball player induced mental breakdown.

.

They have to meet as a group the next day. Kenma is usually on time to class, simply because arriving late would draw too much attention to him, but with group projects he doesn’t really care. Still, he shows up only five minutes late. Tetsurou is already there, as are the other two, and Tetsurou raises an eyebrow at Kenma. “What, did you get caught in traffic?”

“Ha, ha,” Kenma says, since he’s told Tetsurou before that he stays in the dorms on campus - as all sophomores are required to.

“We’ve been discussing the plot of our film, though,” Tetsurou continues without missing a beat. “Maya thinks it should be kind of a magical universe. What do you think of that idea?”

Kenma raises a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “It might be a lot of work and worldbuilding, so it might be a little ambitious for a class project. But I guess in the end it’s up to you.”

“That’s true,” Maya acknowledges, “as much as I hate to say it.”

There’s a little bit of a smirk on Tetsurou’s lips as he says, “We could always do a romance film.”

Ugh - absolutely not. Kenma fears he may be outvoted, though, judging by the looks on Jen and Maya’s faces, probably contemplating the possibility of being the one in the film to get to play Tetsurou’s love interest. He sighs, drumming his fingers on his thigh, but thankfully Tetsurou interrupts by saying, “Nah, I’m not that into romance movies. But… actually…” He peers down at the syllabus. “We’ve been assigned a genre.”

“We have?” Jen asks, her eyes big. 

“And it is… murder mystery,” Tetsurou says. “Oh, shit.” Though Tetsurou seems a little bit shocked, and Jen and Maya look disappointed, Kenma thinks that this is something he can get behind. He tilts his head to the side, a contemplative look on his face. “We need a killer, then, and a victim. Probably a detective, too.”

“I think Tetsurou should be the detective,” Jen says before Kenma can say anything. 

“I agree,” Maya says, “and… I think Kenma should be the murderer.”

Kenma had been hoping that he’d be able to volunteer to hold a purely technical position - cameraman, maybe, or editor - so he isn’t fond of the idea of having to actually appear on camera. “Why do you say that,” he says. “I think you could be a good killer too.”

“Actually, I was gonna volunteer to die,” Maya says flatly, and Kenma wonders if this is one of those weird things where people want the people they like to murder them. 

“And I can do the filming and editing,” Jen adds eagerly. “I’ve made a couple of films myself. Plus, I could probably recruit some of my friends to be extras or any other characters we need.”

God. Well, that’s the final sprinkling of dirt on the top of Kenma’s grave. He can’t argue with that; the only editing experience he has is that of posting his amateur YouTube videos and occasional assistance in streaming the tournaments he runs. He sighs. “I guess I’m the murderer then. What about the script?”

“We could just do a Google doc,” Maya points out. “But I don’t mind doing the majority of the work, since I’m going to be dying early on.”

Tetsurou grins over at Kenma, a grin that kind of sends a chill down Kenma’s spine. “I look forward to working with you,” he says, and Kenma doesn’t know how to reply that he’s not looking forward to this one bit, so he doesn’t. 

.

When he gets to class the next day, the seat next to Tetsurou is open so Kenma feels almost obligated to take it. Tetsurou greets him with “Hey, killer” which is really annoying and makes Kenma want to die. He glares at Tetsurou in return, hoping that it’ll be enough to make Tetsurou back off and stop talking to him. But Kenma can never be that lucky.

He slumps down in his seat, resting his head back against the hard auditorium-style seat, and hopes that Tetsurou won’t talk to him. But instead, Tetsurou says, “Are you gonna watch the game tonight?”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” Kenma says, in his usual blunt, honest style. “Why?”

“It’s gonna be a good one,” Tetsurou says. “We’re playing the team that’s ranked number three in the nation. Y’know, University of Shiratorizawa.”

“Oh,” Kenma says, because this little statistic means absolutely nothing to him. “What are we ranked?”

Tetsurou simply stares at him in return. “Do you even go here?”

“Last time I checked, yeah.”

“We’re ranked number one, ” Jen chimes in before Tetsurou can reply. “The best team in the entire US - according to the AP poll, at least.”

“Yeah,” Tetsurou says. “So this game is kind of a big deal. It’d be cool if you could tune in.”

The professor clears her throat to start class, but all Kenma can think is why does Tetsurou care? Millions of people across the country will be watching the game, not to mention the thousands packed into their famous basketball stadium. It shouldn’t make any difference whether he goes or not.

The thought weighs heavy on Kenma for the rest of the day. It still hasn’t left his mind at the end of class, when Tetsurou says, “Hey, if you watch the game tonight, I’ll buy you a coffee after class on Tuesday.”

This is a no-brainer. “I don’t drink coffee.”

“Not coffee then,” Tetsurou amends quickly. “What do you drink? Sweet things? You seem like the kind of guy who likes sweet drinks.”

“What makes you say that,” Kenma says dryly, not sure he even wants to know what the answer is. 

“Because you’re so sweet,” Tetsurou says sardonically, and Kenma wants to kick him. “Kidding. Just… I dunno. A hunch. Tell me I’m wrong, though.” 

Kenma desperately wants to tell him that he is wrong, in fact, and Kenma only drinks coffee black and hearty, the way it’s meant to be consumed. However, this is not true. Tetsurou is absolutely right. Kenma subsists off of sweet things. And his favorite drink… “I like hot chocolate, actually.” 

“Hot chocolate,” Tetsurou says, his face twisting into a wolfish grin. “See, I knew I was right. So you watch the game today and I’ll buy you a hot chocolate after class Tuesday.”

Kenma wants to say no. He really does. But the promise of a steaming hot chocolate in the wintery January weather is too good to pass up, even better if he’s not the one who has to buy it. It’s been awhile since the last tournament, after all. His funds are starting to run low.

“All right,” he agrees. “I’ll watch. Can’t guarantee my full attention, but I’ll try to watch, at least.”

“I’ll make it so you won’t be able to look away,” Tetsurou replies. It’s probably just another one of Tetsurou’s snarky lines, Kenma tells himself, but there’s something in the underlying intensity of his words and the darkness of his gaze that stops Kenma’s breath in his throat. 

He swallows, and his throat feels thick. “I guess we’ll see about that,” is all he can muster.

.

tora, Kenma texts later that night. are you watching the game tonight? 

It doesn’t take long for Taketora to reply; Kenma’s pretty sure that whenever he’s not at practice, he’s on his phone. YEAH OF COURSE I AM, he says in his usual all-caps fashion. Y ARE U ASKIN THO DIDNT THINK U CARED. 

can i watch with you?

WHAT THE FUK KENMA UR ASKING IF U CAN WATCH A BASKETBALL GAME? WHO R U WHAT HAVE U DONE W KENMA is Taketora’s obnoxious reply. 

Kenma sighs, dropping his head into his hands. can you just formulate a normal response please.

YEAH OFCOURSE U CAN WATCH WITH ME IM JUST SURPRISED U CARE. IM GONNA BE TURNING IT ON IN THIRTY MINS IN THE NEKOMATA COMMON RM SO JUST COME THERE.

okay, Kenma replies. i’ll be there. 

IS THIS ABOUT TETSUROU KUROO?!?! comes Taketora’s response. Kenma elects to ignore it. In a way, it’s true - it very much is about Tetsurou Kuroo. Just not in the way Taketora probably expects.

Or maybe exactly in the way Taketora expects. 

He banishes the thought from his mind, instead turning back to his video game - a distraction for the next few minutes, at least, before he has to go watch a pixelated version of Tetsurou run around a court on TV for a good two hours. 

He wonders if they’ll win this game. He wonders why he even cares. It’s not like he’s ever kept up with the Cats’ schedule before. He wonders why he’s even watching the game; he could probably get away with watching some highlight videos online after the game and pretending that he’d seen it.

But he heads out after twenty minutes, stops by the vending machine to get some snacks, then goes to the common room and settles in next to Taketora, who says, “You never answered my text.”

“Because it was a stupid question,” Kenma mutters in response, glancing around. There are a lot of people in the common room. Well, not a lot by normal people’s standards, maybe - just about ten - but a lot by Kenma’s standards. He hopes no one will notice him. 

“I mean, you’ve apparently become buddy-buddy with Tetsurou Kuroo all of a sudden,” Taketora says far too boldly. There goes that hope.

He leans down further in the chair and hopes that he’ll melt into the floor. 

The game starts just a minute later, though, redirecting the attention of everyone in the room. Kenma’s gaze automatically falls on Tetsurou as he runs onto the court, his stupid hair held back by a headband so as to not fall into his eyes, that stupid grin on his face. He looks at the camera and Kenma’s struck by the thought that it’s almost as though Tetsurou’s looking at him, almost as though Tetsurou knows that he’s watching.

But that’s ridiculous. Tetsurou’s looking at the camera, just as he’s supposed to, just as any normal basketball player is supposed to. He watches as Tetsurou heads over to compete for the jump ball, and his nails inadvertently dig into his palms.

You’ve got this, he says internally as the others in the room raise their hands in solidarity, then yet again questions why the hell he even cares.

Tetsurou gets the first hand on the ball, though, and pushes it towards one of the other guys on the court. Kenma watches as the other guy dribbles towards the goal, the rest of his teammates running ahead of him, their arms waving wildly. Tetsurou manages to position himself near the goal but away from the players of the other team, though, and then - 

And then the teammate hurls the ball towards Tetsurou, too high, and in one solid motion Tetsurou catches the ball and slams it down into the basket. 

The crowd interrupts into cheers, loud and obnoxious, and Kenma’s eyes focus on the screen. Tetsurou had made it look easy. But they’re playing against the number three team in the nation, so there’s no way that it had been. 

Had that been a strategy or something? Admittedly, Kenma’s never really thought of basketball as a strategic sport. It had seemed too simple - throw a ball down the court, dribble it to a goal, and then shoot. But he sees it now, almost as though the players are chess pieces on a board, their positioning so incredibly important to the flow of the game. 

Basketball, like any other game, requires strategy. And Kenma’s attention is suddenly near completely fixated on the game.

I’ll make it so you won’t be able to look away.

The next points aren’t really noteworthy. The other team scores on a three, and the scoring player pumps his fist as he runs back, a too-confident smirk on his face. Kenma can’t help but roll his eyes. Obnoxious, he chides, even as Taketora shouts “Show-off!” beside him.

It gives him a weird sense of unity with Taketora. Kenma hates it.

Then their team shoots a three, someone called Nobuyuki Kai from just in front of the three-point line. It turns into a bit of a back-and-forth - they score, then Shiratorizawa scores, then they score again. The score remains far too close: 12-9, 15-14. But then, as one of the Shiratorizawa players approaches the net, he lobs it up and -

It comes soaring back down.

Tetsurou Kuroo stands in front of the shooting player, a look of pure satisfaction on his face as the ball soars into the waiting arms of one of the Nekoma players. The crowd erupts into a roar again, and Tetsurou looks straight into the camera, pointing one of his too-long fingers straight at the camera. 

A shiver runs down Kenma’s spine.

But it doesn’t mean anything, he tells himself. He probably tells everyone he meets to watch his game. That’s what basketball players do. The basketball players that play for Nekoma are bound to become NBA players, and therefore celebrities, later in life. He’s just preparing for that with a little bit of self-promotion. Nothing more.

(But does he usually bribe people to come to his games? Or is that a Kenma thing only?)

He digs his nails into his thigh to snap himself out of it. Nothing good will come out of this train of thought. It’s ridiculous to think that someone as boring and inconsequential as Kenma Kozume, gaming club president and not much else, could be of any interest to someone like Tetsurou Kuroo. 

But there’s something intense in that pointing of Tetsurou’s that Kenma can’t get out of his mind - even as the game ends, even as the room dissolves around with him with the sounds of their cheers, even as Taketora pokes him in the side and says, “Hey, your boy was the top scorer!” And as Taketora teasingly asks him “What’d you think of that game? Are you gonna become a basketball fan now?”, Kenma scowls at him but secretly, secretly thinks that he just might.

He gets a text later that night, and he squeezes his phone almost hard enough to break it as he sees it’s from that dumb unknown number yet again. Somehow, he hasn’t worked up the courage to save it. 

I hoep yu weer watcngi, it says. Kenma imagines that Tetsurou, basking in the glory of his win, is out celebrating at a bar or something, drunk or high or a mix of both. He doesn’t know why his name came to the forefront of Tetsurou’s mind. Yes, now that I’ve won, let me just go text this random group project member. 

It doesn’t make any sense at all. Kenma’s not sure that he wants it to.

.

Kenma’s almost too happy that his gaming club is hosting their first tournament of the semester that weekend. It proves to be a much-needed distraction from thinking about the stupid group project and the man that apparently is haunting his fucking dreams or something, Tetsurou Kuroo. Tournaments, for him, are easy. He’s not running the tournament this time, so he gets to play: which means a lot of sitting around, waiting for his name to be called, and nodding in acknowledgement at the other Smash players as they wait around too. He has short conversations with some of them, asking how their winter breaks had gone and how their semesters are going, but mostly he waits in silence. And he’s completely okay with that. He likes his solitude, no one constantly bothering him like Tetsurou Kuroo does.

He wins though, of course. Kenma is notorious in the local Smash scene for never even dropping a single match. Most games, except occasionally once they get down to top eight and above, he never drops a single stock. It’s almost too easy: like breathing. 

He wishes that social stuff came just as easily to him. He doesn’t understand people the way he does games. There are no kill confirm combos in real life that lead to guaranteed victories. There’s just him and people that stare at him with stares of clear judgment because he’s weird and has long hair that, yes, he doesn’t shower as much as he probably should, and spends most of his time on his phone or his 3DS or his PSP or whatever he can tote around, and he occasionally plays Super Smash Flash in class. He can’t win this game. He just can’t. 

He goes back to class on Monday feeling slightly better, though, refreshed from the win and the fifty dollar prize in his pocket and the fact that he’d gotten to spend almost all day Sunday alone, save for the hour he’d spent with Taketora and Shouhei at dinner. Tetsurou gives him a look as soon as he walks into the classroom, though, and Kenma swallows nervously. “Hey,” he says while Kenma sits down. “I just wanted to say - I, uh, I know I sent you a text last week after the game. And I hadn’t intended to. I was pretty drunk. But… well, did you watch the game?”

“Yeah,” Kenma says. “I did. Congratulations on your win.”

“You actually watched it?” Tetsurou says dubiously, and Kenma’s a little offended because what , does Tetsurou think he’s a fucking liar or something? Kenma doesn’t lie. At least not in matters of honor like this situation. 

“Yeah,” Kenma says. “I did watch. And I saw you point at the screen after your block in the first half, if that tells you anything.”

“You saw that?” Tetsurou says. His voice is a little hoarse, which Kenma thinks is kind of weird - almost as though he’s surprised, as though he hadn’t been intending on Kenma to actually see it. Kenma gives a little nod, and Tetsurou’s silent for a second, an unreadable expression on his face. Slowly, though, it shifts back into Tetsurou’s default smile. “Ah. Well, I was just being a little dramatic, y’know? Anyways, that was pretty early on in the game. You gotta tell me something from the second half now that’ll prove you watched it.”

“What the hell,” Kenma replies.

“Do you want the hot chocolate or not, huh?”

And, unfortunately, he does. He doesn’t want to break the crisp $50 bill in his wallet, either. So he tells Tetsurou about Haiba Lev - the tall freshman on the team’s - dunk during the second half that had the whole crowd on the verge of a breakdown and the fact that they’d been down by two with five minutes left, but had made it up to being ahead by ten by the time there were two minutes left. Tetsurou looks almost impressed.

“I’ll see you after class, then,” he whispers, too close to Kenma’s ear as the professor starts class. His breath tickles Kenma’s ear. Kenma shivers.

But after class ends, after Kenma wastes most of it playing games on his laptop only to write down the weekly assignment in a document and pretend that’s what he was doing the entire class, he waits for Tetsurou so that they leave together. Tetsurou bids goodbye to Jen and Maya before they leave together, both of whom look at Kenma with gazes of identical disbelief. Kenma wonders what exactly is so unbelievable, but figures it’s that someone like Tetsurou would deign to hang out with someone like Kenma.

Not that Tetsurou’s better than Kenma. He’s just… different. They’re far too different in every way imaginable. 

But they end up at a table together, a hot chocolate with extra whipped cream sitting in front of Kenma, while Tetsurou has a boring coffee drink. Kenma takes a sip and lets the warmth flood his body. “So,” he says, because he feels almost obligated but also because he’s curious, “how’d you start playing basketball, anyways?” 

Tetsurou raises a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “It’s always been something I did, I guess. Ever since I was a little kid. I saw a lot of games on TV as a kid, because my mom was always a big basketball fan, so…” He frowns. “Little kid me told her that would be me one day. That I’d be on the big screen, playing in front of a huge crowd. I don’t think she believed me back then. In hindsight, it is a little unrealistic of a goal. But I dunno, I decided to give it my all. Every second I wasn’t in school, eating, sleeping, or studying, I had my hands on a basketball. It certainly didn’t hurt that I got the good height genes from my parents, either.” 

“That’s true,” Kenma acknowledges, and then figures he should probably say more, so he says, “What does your mom think now? Is she proud of you?”

Tetsurou glances down, an unfamiliar expression on his face. “She probably would be,” he says, his voice wistful, and Kenma’s not exactly a genius when it comes to this stuff but he can certainly read between the lines. He feels awful all of a sudden, even though there’s no possible way he could’ve known.

“Shit,” Kenma says. “I’m… uh, I’m sorry to hear that.”

Tetsurou’s mouth twitches upwards, and he shakes his head slowly. “Don’t apologize. You couldn’t have known. It’s been a while, though. She passed away in… 3rd grade, I think? Just before I started third grade.”

Kenma’s not really good at this kind of thing. He doesn’t know how to deal with death and has no idea how to offer words of comfort. Still, he finds it’d be weird to stay silent, so he offers, “I’m sure she’d be proud of you if she could see you now.”

“Hey, you can be caring sometimes, huh?” Tetsurou replies in a smug tone, and Kenma suddenly desperately wants to take back his words. “But… thanks. That means a lot to me.” He’s silent for a second before he continues, “Enough about me, though. Let’s talk about you. I heard you’re the reigning Smash Bros champion of Nekoma.”

Kenma furrows his eyebrows together, giving Tetsurou a confused look. “How’d you hear about that?” It’s not like Nekoma students go around talking about the Smash community all the time like they do with basketball. 

“Oh,” Tetsurou says, a little bit of red rising into his cheeks. “I... well, will it sound super creepy if I say that I asked around about you?”

“You asked around about me?” Kenma repeats dubiously. Why would he - what?!

“Yeah,” Tetsurou says with a casual shrug. “Curiosity killed the cat or whatever. Apparently you’re something of a legend in the gaming community.” 

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Kenma says. “But I mean, I’m ranked number one at the moment, yeah.”

“You’re always playing games, aren’t you? The ones on your phone, and sometimes your computer too during class. I’m pretty sure you’re probably playing one on your phone under the table now too.”

“I am not,” Kenma says. He’d definitely considered playing some stupid mobile game under the table if the conversation lagged on, though - but he’s not going to give Tetsurou the satisfaction of knowing that he’d been (partially) correct. 

“Hm,” Tetsurou says. “But what’s up with the game thing? How’d you get into that?”

“Games make sense,” Kenma says, and then cringes a little bit because he doesn’t know how to explain himself or his thought process. He’s never been able to. “Uh, I guess it’s just… you know, games are like puzzles. And I like winning, I like being able to level up. And with games, there’s always a correct answer, a way to win. I can always figure out games. People, well…” He frowns. “Not so much.”

“Not a fan of people, are you?” Tetsurou says, the words rolling oddly off his tongue. He grins, the gleam in his smile intimidating in a way. “That’s okay. I’m not either a lot of the time.”

“No way,” Kenma says, a little surprised. It just doesn’t make any sense. “You’re always with people.”

Tetsurou shrugs. “You know how in those personality tests, there are the two types - introvert and extrovert? And how they’re supposed to describe whether you get your energy from other people or from being alone?”

“Yeah,” Kenma says. He’s definitely an introvert. Being with people wears him out, especially high energy people like Shouyou and Taketora that expect a lot of him.

“I tend more towards the introvert side of the spectrum,” Tetsurou explains. “Not as much as you, I’m sure - “ Kenma glares at him for this, because while it’s true he still doesn’t think that Tetsurou should be the one to say it - “But I get pretty worn out of I’m around people for long periods of time, especially a lot of people at once. I’m usually the one to suggest that we leave the party early. And honestly, if it were up to me…” Tetsurou looks down. “If it were up to me, I’d rather just hang out with a couple of friends in a common room and watch a movie or something than go to a big, raging party.”

Kenma stares at him in disbelief. “You… what?” He blinks. “But you’re always at parties, and you seem to be having so much fun in the pictures people post…”

“Haven’t you heard the saying fake it till you make it?” Tetsurou says, his tone oddly flat. “It’s not like it’s a horrible time or anything. It’s just not my favorite place to be. But yeah, there’s a little-known fact about me.”

“I almost don’t believe it,” Kenma says. 

“Ha,” Tetsurou replies. “Anyways, have you ever gone to a party here? I’d be curious to hear your perspective.”

“Of course I have,” Kenma says. “I’m not a total social reject. My friend Taketora Yamamoto, he’s this loud guy on the soccer team, dragged me to a party and…”

Kenma keeps talking, telling the story of how he’d gotten his shoes puked on and had ended up with unidentifiable stains on one of his favorite shirts. Tetsurou nods along, giving little hums and  laughs every now and again to indicate that he’s listening but otherwise not interrupting. Kenma’s honestly not sure what the hell is going on with him, he thinks as Tetsurou finally begins to respond. Kenma never talks to strangers, especially not this much.

But there’s just something about Tetsurou. Something about the way he talks, something about the way he smiles (when it’s a sincere smile, that is), something about the way he’s nothing like Kenma had expected that catches Kenma’s attention and makes him want to learn more.

After they finish their drinks, Tetsurou glances over at Kenma and says, “We should do this again sometime.”

Kenma’s words freeze in his throat. He gulps them down before he says, “I guess I wouldn’t be against that.” 

“You guess?” Tetsurou says, and then lets his mouth tilt up. “Well, I had a good time at least.”

Kenma doesn’t know what that means and finds himself too afraid to ask for further clarification. But he has the sinking feeling that this thing with Tetsurou - whatever it be, friendship or, worse, more - is going to get him in too deep. 

Unfortunately, though, he’s not sure if he wants to get out just yet. 

.

Taketora catches him in the quad in between classes the next day. “Heard you were in the coffee shop with Tetsurou the other day,” he sing-songs, and Kenma wants to rip his own hair out. Or Taketora’s. Or maybe both.

“What’s it to you,” Kenma gripes. “Also, how the hell did you hear that? Do you have spies or something?”

“Do you think people don’t talk on this campus?” Taketora asks, raising an eyebrow at him. “Not everyone is as asocial as you are and the places that Tetsurou Kuroo goes and the people he hangs out with are kind of a big deal. Just so you know.”

Kenma glares daggers at him and hopes that it’s enough to pierce through Taketora’s smug aura. “So what if I was with Tetsurou, then?”

“Well, how was it?” Taketora says, his eyes overly eager. “Did he tell you any team secrets?”

“Do you know me at all?” Kenma snaps. “We hardly talked about basketball at all.”

“God, Tetsurou’s attention is fully wasted on you,” Taketora laments. “I’d have much more interesting questions to ask him.”

“So you’re saying you’d basically just interview him about basketball, as if he doesn’t get that shit 24/7. I’m sure he’d enjoy that,” Kenma replies sardonically. 

“You sound oddly defensive over Tetsurou Kuroo right now,” Taketora says, an annoying grin taking over his face. 

“He’s just not really what I thought he was,” Kenma mumbles, glancing away. “That’s all. It doesn’t mean I like him or anything.”

Doesn’t it, though? Kenma thinks, biting down on his lip. It’s true that Tetsurou isn’t what he thought he was. But actually liking him - enjoying his company, wanting him around - that feels like something different altogether. And it’d be hard to deny that he does, in some sense, like Tetsurou, even if just in a “I wouldn’t mind hanging out with him more” type of way. 

God. That’s a disturbing thought in and of itself. Kenma decides he’ll push that one away to dwell on it another day.

.

When he makes it to class on Wednesday, Jen and Maya are already there, but the seat on Tetsurou’s right is weirdly empty, as though it’s reserved for Kenma himself. Kenma swallows before he settles down in it, and Tetsurou shoots him a tiny smile. “I have another proposition for you,” he says. 

“Just for future reference,” Kenma says, quietly enough that he hopes the other two won’t hear, “that is not an appealing way to start a conversation.”

Tetsurou laughs, loud and hearty, and some people around them turn to look at them, which makes Kenma feel even more embarrassed. Unfortunately, the class is far too big for Kenma to have a chance of escaping unseen. “It’s not like that, ” Tetsurou says. “It’s the same proposition as last time. We have a game tomorrow, so if you watch it, I’ll buy you another hot chocolate.”

Kenma’s not sure what spirit of bravery possesses him. But he somehow comes up with the strength to say, “Do you bribe all of your viewers, or am I just special?”

What he’s not expecting is for Tetsurou’s cheeks to get… weirdly pink? His eyes dart down to the ground and he shakes his head quickly. “Uh,” he says, and then quickly follows up with, “First of all, it’s not bribery , more just like, a motivator? And no, I don’t have enough money to bribe the whole school. What the fuck do you think I am, made of money?” 

So that means I’m special then? Kenma wants to ask, but the question dies on his tongue. He doesn’t really think he even wants to know. “Okay,” he says instead. “Yet again, you’ve got a deal. It’s tomorrow night?”

“Yeah,” Tetsurou says with a nod. “8 PM, against the University of Nohebi. They’re literally awful. Not at the game, but they’re filthy fucking cheaters. You’ll see.”

“Interesting,” Kenma says, taking a mental note of this. 

“Not to interrupt whatever this is,” Maya says, “but when are you getting back from this game, Tetsurou? We probably need to have a meeting so we can start discussing the plot and writing the script and get into filming as soon as possible.”

Maya has a point, Kenma thinks. He’d almost forgotten about the group project - or rather, he’d kind of tried to forget. “I’ll be back Friday afternoon,” Tetsurou says. “So Saturday afternoon or early evening is fine. Got practice in the morning, you know.” 

Kenma cringes at the idea of having morning practice, especially on the weekends. Waking up before noon to go set up for tournaments is bad enough, much less waking up early in the morning to go exercise. “I can do late afternoon,” he agrees, and Jen nods.

“Great,” Maya says. “Let’s plan for four PM, then?”

“Good with me,” Tetsurou says, and Kenma bobs his head in agreement. He leans back in his chair as the professor jumps back into the lecture, and tries to zone back into class, but finds his head isn’t fully into it. He keeps thinking about what Tetsurou had implied. 

You’re special. He hadn’t said it in that many words, but… why? Why does it bother Tetsurou at all if Kenma does or doesn’t watch his games? Kenma’s just a random student. He’s nothing special. Tetsurou has so many adoring fans; there’s no reason at all that Kenma should stand out.

But apparently Kenma does, for some reason. He’s not sure what to make of that.

.

“You’re gonna watch a game again?” Taketora asks dubiously as Kenma enters the common room, armed with a bag of gummy worms and a can of Mountain Dew. “Who are you and what have you done with Kenma Kozume?” 

Kenma goes a little red, too conscious of the fact that there are other people in the room that he doesn’t know. “Shut up, would you?” he says. “It turns out that basketball isn’t quite as boring as I thought it was. That’s it.”

“Right,” Taketora says in his sing-song voice that implies he does not believe Kenma one bit, “and it has absolutely nothing to do with Tetsurou Kuroo, am I right?”

“Yes, exactly,” Kenma says, shoving a gummy worm into his mouth. “If I offer you one, will you shut up?” 

Taketora barks out a laugh, but holds out his hand in a half-assed peace offering. Kenma gives him one, then fires off a quick text to Shouhei to complain about Taketora and how loud he is.  Shouhei replies, “He’s got a point though, doesn’t he? This is at least partially about Tetsurou, right?” and Kenma closes out of the app immediately, deciding that he does not have any friends or allies to speak of. You really can’t trust anyone these days, it seems. 

The game finally starts, though. Kenma watches as Tetsurou makes his way onto the court, an  expression of determination on his features, and suddenly his eyes are drawn to Tetsurou’s arms. They’re big. Big in a muscular way, of course, big in a way that kind of makes Kenma want to touch them just to see how they’d feel - 

Oh, shit, no. That’s not at all an avenue that Kenma’s willing to go down.

He makes himself focus on the actual game. As it turns out, Tetsurou had not been exaggerating. Nohebi plays dirty. He watches as one Nohebi player charges straight into a Nekoma player that had been firmly planted, knocking him over, but then somehow gets the Nekoma player called for a foul. Taketora and his buddies are sent into an uproar immediately, grumbling about the biased refs, and Kenma turns to Taketora after the yelling dies down. 

“That was obviously a charge,” Kenma says, narrowing his eyebrows. “Why didn’t the refs call it?”

Taketora motions towards the screen, where a Nohebi player is graciously thanking a referee, a fake humble expression painting his face. “That’s why,” Taketora says with a scowl. “They act all buddy-buddy with the refs so that they’ll get the best calls. It’s total bullshit, but they do it every year and somehow the NCAA hasn’t caught on yet.”

“You think it’ll cost Nekoma the game?” Kenma murmurs, his heart beating a little quicker as Tetsurou fires off a quick shot to tie the game at ten.

“Nah,” Taketora says confidently. “Nohebi are assholes, sure, and they’re suckups, but they’re also not good at the game. In my opinion, at least, it’s impossible to win this game by sucking up to the refs alone. You have to have some degree of talent. And Nohebi just doesn’t.”

Taketora has a point. Each time a Nohebi player steps up to the free throw line - which is fairly often, all things considering - they seem to miss over half of the time. Their shots in general just aren’t consistent, and while they’re okay at defense, it just doesn’t seem to be enough. Nekoma pulls away with a ten point lead in the first half, which stretches into a twenty point lead in the second half. 

Kenma finds that, yet again, it’s hard to look away. There’s just something magnetic about the way the team plays, but especially Tetsurou. Each move of his seems carefully calibrated - each pass seems to go to the right person at the right time, and he always seems to somehow be in the perfect location when someone passes to him, whether under the net or near it. Kenma does not get it. He’s not a sports person at all, and he’s definitely not a basketball person. So why? Why is he so invested?

Yet again, at the end of the game, Tetsurou looks straight at the camera, giving it a quick wink. The interviewer turns to him. “Aren’t you a charmer,” she says. 

“Ah, not so much,” Tetsurou says, scratching the back of his neck. “I dunno.”

The interviewer looks just as confused as Kenma feels. It’s like he’s oddly awkward here in this moment, in a way that Tetsurou is not usually. So the interviewer pauses for a moment, and then says, “Anyways, you were on fire in that game, with 20 points and 10 blocks. What was your motivation?”

“It’s not just me,” Tetsurou says firmly. “I can only play the way that I do because I have a strong team supporting me. They’re my motivation. And…” Tetsurou pauses. “And I have a lot of other amazing people supporting me too, of course.” 

Kenma narrows his eyebrows as he listens to Tetsurou speak. He’d always thought that Tetsurou would be conceited, thinking himself the star of the team, able to achieve all his accomplishments through his own work alone. But there’s just something about the way Tetsurou talks that’s humble, almost. Like he truly doesn’t think he could have gotten here on his own merits. God, it seems that Tetsurou Kuroo is nothing at all like Kenma had thought he was. And here Kenma had thought he was good at reading people. 

There’s also something, Kenma thinks as he watches Tetsurou on the screen, a light sheen of sweat decorating his facial features, that is almost attractive about Tetsurou. As in, Kenma can see why other people would find Tetsurou attractive. Not that Kenma himself thinks Tetsurou is attractive. 

No, of course not.

“ Ken -ma,” Taketora says far too loudly, breaking through Kenma’s thoughts. Kenma tilts his head to look at Taketora, hoping the look on his face sufficiently conveys his annoyance. “God, I’ve been tryin’ to get through to you for like, five minutes now. What, is Tetsurou so hot you can’t take your eyes off him now?” 

Kenma stares at Taketora for a few moments, seriously contemplating murder. No, there are too many witnesses in this room, he laments silently. But god, how badly he wants to murder Taketora right now. “No,” he hisses. “I was just thinking about some essay I have due on Sunday.”

“Riiiight,” Taketora sing-songs. “That’s why your eyes were fixated right on Tetsurou’s face.”

“Pure coincidence,” Kenma grumbles, glancing back down at his phone.  There aren’t any messages, unsurprisingly, since he’d left Shouhei on read, but he can pretend. 

It’s better than being in this stupid fucking conversation, after all.

.

He gets a text from Tetsurou later that night. Were you watching? He asks simply, noticeably better grammar in this text than in the text from after Nekoma’s last win. Kenma wonders if Tetsurou’s not drunk this time, then. He also can’t help but wonder again why texting Kenma after games seems to be so high on Tetsurou’s priority list.

But, well, he won’t dwell on that. yeah, he responds. nohebi plays dirty, huh? i never realized. but they suck ass at free throws, and you all pulled off that win nonetheless. congratulations. 

Thank you, Tetsurou says, accompanied by a smiley face that makes Kenma’s chest feel weird. Hot chocolate after the group project meeting on Saturday?

sure, Kenma says, and his chest still feels weird. He elects to ignore it, though, in favor of switching off his phone and laying down on his side. Sleep is hard to come by, but he does his best anyways. He figures if he lies there long enough it’ll show up soon enough. But visions of Tetsurou Kuroo, grinning at the screen, keep dancing behind his eyelids. 

Fuck, he thinks, and pulls the pillow down over his head. Maybe the best course of action here is just to suffocate. 

He manages to make it through the next day, though, somehow. And then Saturday afternoon rolls around. Kenma gets up an hour before their group meeting, grabs a granola bar for his ‘lunch’, and heads off to their meeting spot. Jen and Maya are already there, Tetsurou peering over Maya’s shoulder as she types something. Tetsurou glances up as Kenma approaches and Kenma could almost swear that his eyes light up. “Kenma,” he says with a bright smile. “We’re just looking at the script Maya’s been working on.” 

Kenma walks up behind them, peering over Maya’s other shoulder. He does a quick scan-through of the script, his eyes narrowing. “Is it just me,” he says flatly, “or does it almost seem like there’s some kind of weird sexual tension between the detective and the murderer?”

Maya shrugs, seemingly unperturbed. “Completely unintentional.”

“I still don’t know how good of a murderer I’m going to be,” Kenma continues, “so don’t expect too much of me.” 

“I’m sure you’ll be an amazing murderer,” Tetsurou drawls, that stupid smirk on his face, and - is he flirting? Or is Kenma just reading too much into things? He blinks, clearing his head. There’s no way that Tetsurou Kuroo, of all people, is flirting with him. But it sure had seemed like it for a minute there. 

“Whatever,” Kenma sighs, attempting to seem unaffected despite the turmoil currently taking place in his head. He turns back to the script. “It seems okay to me.”

“I just need some help with a couple of plot points,” Maya says, and then launches into her explanation. Kenma half-listens, too busy still thinking about the events of the past few days, but he manages to nod along at the right parts so that it seems like he’s listening. Tetsurou, surprisingly, seems very engaged in the discussion, suggesting specific plot points and character dynamics that Kenma himself didn’t think of. Creative, Kenma thinks. Who would’ve thought? 

They only make it through filming a couple of scenes before it gets too dark to film any further and besides, they’re all getting tired of filming and discussing and reshooting. Tetsurou bids goodbye to Maya and Jen, a friendly smile on his face, but it looks different, somehow, as he turns to Kenma. “I owe you a hot chocolate, huh?”

“You bet,” Kenma grumbles. “I didn’t watch that whole ass game for nothing.” 

“Aw, come on! It was at least somewhat entertaining, wasn’t it?”

“Maybe a little,” Kenma admits, and Tetsurou’s smile only grows in size. Kenma hates himself for finding it endearing. 

Tetsurou starts talking about some class he’s taking this semester as they walk, some class that’s about biopharmaceutics or something nerdy like that. He babbles about the utility of chemistry for a good five minutes straight. All Kenma can think is - wow, this absolute nerd. 

Tetsurou Kuroo is a nerd. Who would’ve guessed it?

He buys a hot chocolate for Kenma and a coffee for himself. Kenma narrows his eyebrows at Tetsurou. “Coffee this late?” he asks, and then wonders when the hell he had gotten comfortable enough with Tetsurou to be able to openly question him like this. Things have gotten strange in the past couple of months. Kenma’s not sure how to feel about it.

“Yeah,” Tetsurou says, his mouth opening in a yawn before he shuts it, his face unimpressed. “I’ve got a lot of shit to do tonight.”

Kenma narrows his eyebrows at Tetsurou. “You should go get started on that, then,” he points out. “No need to waste your time here with me when you have school shit to do.”

“No way,” Tetsurou protests, folding his arms and leaning forward on the table, that shit-eating smile still on his face. “This is more important.”

What the fuck, Kenma says, but the words won’t leave his lips. He’s all but stunned into silence. He sits there for a moment, shocked, before Tetsurou continues on as if nothing had happened, “So have you tried the cafe inside of the School of Faith? I heard they make really good grilled cheese…”

It doesn’t make any sense. Kenma would say he’s relatively good at reading most people, but well….

He can’t get a read on Tetsurou Kuroo at all.

.

He mulls over Tetsurou’s words for the next few days, but can’t make any sense of them. This is more important? How could getting hot chocolate with Kenma be more important than his schoolwork, things that are crucial to his future?

Kenma sure as hell isn’t crucial to his future. He’s just a random guy that Tetsurou happened to be put in a group project with, nothing more. A random guy that Tetsurou begs to watch his games and declares to be important…

Kenma stops that train of thought before it can get any further. Way too dangerous. 

But it doesn’t end there, somehow. Tetsurou starts texting him even more. Sometimes just random, stupid things - “I accidentally fell asleep on the shoulder of this random guy during class and I’m devastated. Where do I go from here” to which Kenma replies “ maybe ask him to go get hot chocolate with you instead” - but sometimes bordering the line of flirting, like when he replies to Kenma’s text with “No way. Getting hot chocolate is for you only ;)” and Kenma’s breath stops in his throat.

Kenma shoves his phone in his pocket, his cheeks flaming. Best not to read too much into that either, he tells himself. 

And during group project meetings, it only gets more and more flirtatious, or at least Kenma, in his lack of experience, finds it to be that way. Tetsurou sits too close to him, winks at him when he says he ‘believes in Kenma’s acting skill’, which makes both Jen and Maya raise their eyebrows at him in a highly suspicious manner. He laughs at the snarky comments Kenma makes under his breath and walks with him out of the building after their meeting is over, so close Kenma can practically feel the warmth emanating from his body. 

“You have a game this weekend, right?” Kenma asks. 

Tetsurou gives him a short smile. “Yeah. What, you keeping up with our schedule now?”

“Something like that,” Kenma says. “Or, more like I wanted to figure out when I’d be getting my next hot chocolate.”

“Oh,” Tetsurou says. There’s a weird glint in his eyes as he glances over at Kenma, one that doesn’t fade as he looks back over in front of him. “At this point, I think, you’re either invested or you’re not. No point in the bribery anymore.” Kenma’s about to be disappointed, to sigh at the loss of his hot chocolate supplier, but then Tetsurou laughs. “I’ll just buy you your hot chocolate regardless of whether you watch.”

Kenma blinks in surprise. “Won’t that get expensive?”

“It’s fine,” Tetsurou says. “We athletes get more food points anyways, supposedly because of our ‘bigger appetites’. No big deal.”

It still seems like a big deal to Kenma, who never buys anyone food or drinks. But he supposes he can shrug it off for now, try not to read too much into it. For now, at least. He basks in the free hot chocolate and the attention from this guy and tries not to overthink. However, that’s never been something Kenma’s particularly good at.

There’s only so long Kenma can avoid thinking about it, though. Eventually, as with anything, there comes a time where an event happens that makes it so that Kenma can’t avoid the situation any more. And that situation comes a couple of days later, after Kuroo’s weekend game. 

Kenma knows that, technically, he doesn’t have to watch this game. He’s not being bribed anymore. If he wanted to, he could go back to his own dorm room, lie down in his own bed and stare up at his cinderblock ceiling. But there’s some part of him that’s imbued with terrible curiosity. So he finds himself with a Mountain Dew in hand, parked in front of the common room TV yet again. What is wrong with you? he berates himself, but finds he doesn’t have an answer.

He ignores Taketora’s smarmy comments about how invested he’s becoming and maybe , just maybe, it has something to do with Tetsurou Kuroo? Because it doesn’t. It’s just that it’s fun to watch, entertaining.

This game, against another high-ranking opponent that Kenma can’t remember the name of, is intense. He inhales deeply as he watches the score rise: 12-10, 24-26, 38-40, 48-46, neither team staying in the lead for any extended periods of time. He grips the sides of his chair, feeling his palms start to sweat, and Taketora gives him a too-smug smile. “You’re getting awfully invested,” he says. 

“Shut up, I am not,” Kenma gripes even though he most definitely is. He just doesn’t want Taketora to know that. 

It doesn’t get any better after halftime. The score stays awfully close, within two to four points at all times. Kenma digs his nails into his palm as Tetsurou steps up to the free throw line. “You can do this,” he chants mentally, channeling all of his energy into positive energy towards Tetsurou, even if he figures Tetsurou (probably) can’t feel it. Just, you know. In case he can. 

He makes both of his free throws, and one of his teammates, a well-built guy with silvery hair, turns to give him a high-five. Koutarou Bokuto, Kenma thinks his name is? Or at least, that’s the name Taketora says when the guy makes a shot. 

They get back into the game, the sound of the clock ticking down almost painful to Kenma’s ears. Two minutes left. One minute left. And then…

And then Tetsurou jumps for a block, high, high above the other players, and when he comes back down, there’s a noise that doesn’t sound too good at all and then Tetsurou tumbles to the ground. 

He hits the ground with a loud smack. He stays there for a moment, completely still, and Kenma finds the breath has been sucked from his lungs all at once. Shit, shit, shit. There’s a whistle and then a bunch of trainers are flooding the court. He stares at the screen in shock, barely blinking. God - is he okay? He has to be okay, right? 

Right?

“Your poor man,” Taketora remarks, and Kenma glares at him, his brows narrowing, because this is very much not the time. Kenma crosses his arms across his chest, but it doesn’t shut the worry out. 

After a minute or so of Kenma holding his breath, the referees start the game back. But Kuroo doesn’t head back to the court. No, he stays on the bench, his head in his hands and an ice pack on his ankle. Kenma’s chest aches. He hadn’t wanted it to go like this. It hurts him to see Kuroo, who’s usually so full of energy and life , looking so defeated. 

And things do not get much better from there. No, without Tetsurou on the court to block, the team isn’t half as good, at least in Kenma’s opinion. In the blink of an eye, the other team scores six points, causing them to pull far ahead of Nekoma. Thirty seconds remain. They’re still down by six. Come on, Kenma wants to yell, do it for Tetsurou. But he knows they can’t hear him and it probably wouldn’t make a difference if they could, anyways. 

Nekoma scores two more points to narrow the gap to four points, but it’s not enough. Nekoma falls to the other team, and Tetsurou watches from the bench, tears decorating the corner of his eyes. It’s one of the hardest things Kenma has ever had to watch. He bites his lip.

“Hey, it’s just one game,” Taketora says in a lightly teasing tone, but there’s some genuine concern leaking through. Kenma wants to say no, it’s not just this game, but if he’s being honest , Kenma doesn’t even really know what it is. It’s just - Tetsurou being injured. Kenma has to know if he’s okay.

He watches part of the post-game speeches, but finds it too depressing so he grabs his stuff after a few minutes. “I’m gonna head back,” he says. But before he even makes it halfway back to his dorm, his phone starts ringing.

Tetsurou Kuroo reads the caller ID on his screen. Kenma’s breath catches in his throat. “What the fuck,” he mumbles to himself, but it only takes a second for him to make the decision. 

He presses the accept call button. 

“Kenma,” comes from the other end of the line. There’s a slight tremble in Tetsurou’s tone, one that takes Kenma by surprise. He’s never heard Tetsurou sound so… vulnerable. 

He hesitates for a moment. Kenma has never been good at comforting other people. He’s not good with words; he’s absolutely awful at coming up with the right phrases to counteract a bad mood. But in this moment, Kenma desperately wants Tetsurou to feel better, so he offers the first thing that comes to mind. “Do you… Uh, do you want me to come over?”

Dead silence falls over the call. For a moment, Kenma’s heart beat picks up, his throat feeling like it’s about to close up. He bites down on his lip as he waits for Tetsurou to reply. God - he’s so stupid. How could he have ever thought that his presence could be in any way beneficial to Tetsurou fucking Kuroo? He begins to panic, dreading Tetsurou’s response. Finally, after a moment, though, Tetsurou speaks. “That would be… that would be great, actually. If you don’t mind. I’ll be back at the dorm in like… fifteen minutes, and I can send you the dorm address.”

And so, fifteen minutes later, Kenma finds himself with his hand hovering over the door to Tetsurou Kuroo’s dorm room. There are two nametags on the door, laminated in matching obnoxious colors. Tetsurou, says one, and Koutarou says the other - Koutarou Bokuto, Kenma assumes. God, Tetsurou has a roommate. Kenma prays to god the roommate isn’t home. He’s never been exactly good with new people. 

He breathes in deep and then knocks on the door. 

The door opens fairly quickly. Kenma swallows as he sees Tetsurou on the other side, his eyes downcast, his usual smirk completely vanished from his face. Kenma steps forward, almost subconsciously. “Are you okay?” he asks, and then realizes how stupid of a question it is. “I mean, your ankle. Is it okay?” 

“Ah, that.” Tetsurou’s gaze falls to his ankle, and he lifts a shoulder in a half-hearted shrug. “It’s fine. A week of rest, the trainer said. Not that I can afford that this year, but y’know, it is what it is.”

“I’m sorry,” Kenma says and hates himself for not knowing what to say. “That… shit. That really sucks.”

“Yeah,” Tetsurou says, and then, “Thanks for coming, though. Come in.”

Tetsurou’s roommate isn’t there, thankfully. The dorm room is fairly neat for a couple of college athletes too, Kenma notes - just a few cans and bottles scattered here and there. Kenma wonders how often the two are actually there. Tetsurou collapses on one beanbag and motions for Kenma to sit on the other. “You want anything? Water, a soda?” 

“I’m okay,” Kenma says. “Just. How are you feeling?” 

“I don’t know,” Tetsurou admits. “Disappointed, I guess. In myself, but also in my team. And then I’m angry at myself for being disappointed in my team, and I’m just. So fucked up, aren’t I?” He laughs humorlessly. In a way, it kind of scares Kenma. He’s never seen Tetsurou like this, and in a way he’d never wanted to. But it also serves as a reminder that Tetsurou, like everyone else, is human, which serves as a nice reminder in times like these. 

Kenma shakes his head. “I don’t think that’s fucked up. I think it sounds pretty normal, actually. It’s not like you made yourself feel like that on purpose or anything.” 

“Really,” Tetsurou says, and oddly enough even though Kenma hadn’t said anything all that groundbreaking, Tetsurou seems a little comforted nonetheless. “Thank you. And… thank you for being here.” 

Kenma’s quiet for a second before he says, “Why did you call me?”

“I don’t know,” Tetsurou says. “I just felt like if I did, you’d come.”

Kenma doesn’t know what to say, because Tetsurou’s right, after all. Because Tetsurou had called, and Kenma had come. He wants to ask Tetsurou why Tetsurou thought that Kenma would come. But he doesn’t get the chance. 

Because Tetsurou turns towards him, his gaze piercing, and starts to lean forward. And there’s something that Kenma can’t put a finger on, something in his gaze that compels Kenma to lean forward as well. So he does, as though he's being dragged by a magnet into Tetsurou’s orbit. He does, until Tetsurou’s hot breath is ghosting against his lips and Tetsurou’s dark eyes are trained on Kenma’s mouth and he realizes that Tetsurou’s about to kiss him but he decides that he’s very, very okay with that. 

But just before their lips are about to touch, the door is flung open and both Tetsurou and Kenma pull back, startled. The moment shatters into tiny little pieces between them.

“Tetsu!” the voice crows. “You didn’t tell me you were having someone over. Who’s this? Hey, is this Kenma, that guy you’re always talkin’ about?”

Tetsurou glances wildly between Kenma and this person, who Kenma assumes must be Koutarou, Tetsurou’s roommate. Kenma’s glad that Tetsurou seems as flustered as Kenma feels. Tetsurou blinks, turning back to Kenma. “Uh, Kenma, this is my roommate, Koutarou Bokuto, but all of us call him Bo.” He turns back to Koutarou. “And yeah, this is Kenma, but I’m not always talking about him, you stupid owl.”

“You are ,” Koutarou argues, and Kenma’s throat feels oddly constricted. What does Tetsurou have to say about him? Is it about how annoying he is? But hadn’t Tetsurou been about to kiss him just now? Or had Kenma been reading too much into things? God, he silently curses Koutarou for interrupting the moment, because now it seems too evident that Kenma will never actually know what would’ve happened. Koutarou glances between the two of them. “Hey, wanna watch a movie?”

Tetsurou grimaces, as though he’s just now realizing that Koutarou is not going to be leaving. “Uh, yeah. We can do that. If you want.” He glances over at Kenma, who is realizing that he’s going to have to speak.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Kenma says, his voice oddly hoarse. He clears his throat. “Uh, nice to meet you too.”

Koutarou grins, settling into the couch on Tetsurou’s other side and opening up Netflix on their TV. The tension between Tetsurou and Kenma feels almost palpable, though, a weird sort of energy buzzing between their shoulders, and Kenma desperately wants to understand what the hell is going on. 

Shit. God, why the hell did Koutarou have to interrupt them?! Now Kenma has absolutely no idea what’s going on between him and Tetsurou anymore. 

Well. He supposes he’ll just have to keep pretending that there’s absolutely nothing going on between the two of them, huh? 

.

And so he does. They have their last group project meeting a couple of weeks later, finishing up the production of their short film. Kenma can’t help the pang that resounds in his heart as he thinks about the fact that this is the last time that Tetsurou will ever be obligated to talk to him. He wonders if this is it, and he also wonders why it hurts so much. He should’ve never gotten this invested. 

It just stings to think that Kenma isn’t good enough.

But then, the day that they submit their project, he checks his phone to see a message from Tetsurou. Hey, the message says. Want to get dinner tonight? This is like, my last period of free time, so I want to see you before my life gets consumed with nothing but basketball. You’re my only reprieve from discussing strategical methods to take down Karasuno. 

You’re my only reprieve. Kenma bites down on his lip, hard. He doesn’t know how to process these words, and he doesn’t want to read too much into them, but…. But it seems like…

No. He won’t let his thoughts wander down that pathway. He won’t let himself be disappointed. But he fires back a quick “ yeah, that sounds good” and then puts his phone down. Tonight, he’ll pretend like nothing had happened all over again.

It’s the only thing he knows how to do.

.

“I have something for you,” Tetsurou says at dinner that night, leaning across the table to Kenma. Kenma feels his heart jump into his throat, but he tries to play it off. 

“What is it?” he asks.

“Well, I mean, you’ve been watching most of the games, haven’t you?”

“...yes?” Kenma says somewhat suspiciously. Where exactly is this going?

“How would you feel about seeing one in person?”

In person? What? Wha- what? Kenma’s heart leaps into his throat. He manages to get out, “Uh, what do you mean, exactly?”

“I mean, we get a certain number of tickets to give out to people each season,” Tetsurou says. “Most people give theirs out to their family, but my family is, uh.” He winces. “I guess you’d say my family is… busy. Anyways, I’m offering you a ticket to the Karasuno game. If you want it.”

A ticket to the Karasuno game. Even though Kenma’s never been too into sports, he recognizes the significance of this game. It’d be impossible to attend Nekoma and not understand. The tickets to this game regularly fetch prices up to a thousand dollars. Kenma coughs. “You… you what?” 

“I want you to come to the Karasuno game,” Tetsurou repeats. “So you can come and watch up close, and be a part of the action or whatever. But only if you want to come, of course!”

Kenma’s head is spinning. He has no idea what to think. He manages to get himself to say, “Uh, can I let you know?”

“Yeah,” Tetsurou says. “I just need to know before, like, this Thursday? Just so I can find someone else if you don’t want to take it.”

“Okay,” Kenma says, and feels a little bit like he’s suffocating.

.

“You got offered a ticket to the Karasuno game?!” Taketora practically shrieks. “By Tetsurou Kuroo himself?”

“Yeah,” Kenma says, wincing at Taketora’s far too loud volume. “I just… I don’t know if I should take it or not.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Taketora practically explodes. “What do you mean, you don’t know if you should take it? This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity! Hell, I’d kill a man to get a chance to go to this game.”

Shouhei drives a sharp elbow into Taketora’s side to shut him up. “Anyways, speaking from a more rational perspective,” Shouhei says, “why are you hesitant about going?”

Kenma hesitates for a moment. “I mean, it’s just that I’m not that invested in basketball, so in a way I feel guilty about taking the ticket from someone who actually cares about basketball.”

“You could tell Tetsurou to give it to me,” Taketora bellows. “I would not even hesitate before saying yes.”

Yet again, Shouhei ignores him. “I see,” he says. “But the thing is, I don’t think that he asked you to come because you’re particularly invested in the sport of basketball.”

Kenma blinks. “Why else would he ask, then?”

“Because he wants you to come,” Shouhei says simply. “Because he wants you to support him.” 

“Why me in particular?” Kenma asks. “Why would he want me there to support him? He has lots of other friends, I’m sure.” 

There’s a too-knowing smirk on Shouhei’s face as he says, “I guess you’ll have to figure that out for yourself, huh? But I personally think you should go.”

Taketora avoids eye contact, but even as he does he mumbles, “I think you should go too, I guess. If you decide not to, though… I better be the first one you recommend.”

That, somehow, just those few words, is enough to seal the deal. Still, Kenma says, “I’m not exactly the best with large groups of people.”

“Ask him if you can get an extra,” Taketora says eagerly, and when Shouhei elbows him, he says, “It’s pretty crowded, I’m not gonna lie, but if he got you a ticket, you’d probably be in the individual seating section and therefore not have to like, touch anyone else or whatever you’re worried about. So you’ll be fine.”

“Fine,” Kenma says. Later that night, he texts Tetsurou with an affirmative, and Tetsurou replies with far too much excitement. I’m gonna regret this, aren’t I, Kenma thinks, but he feels a little bit warm nonetheless. 

.

The day of the game, the entire campus seems like it’s been coated in a layer of red. Everyone is decked out in Nekoma gear: shirts, hoodies, hats, scarves, gloves, the whole shebang. Kenma realizes very quickly he’s going to have to change before the game if he wants to blend in (which, of course, he does). 

So before the game, he shrouds himself in a Nekoma hoodie and black sweatpants, pulling the hood over his head and hoping he can sneak into the game without attracting any attention. He blends in fairly well in the crowd, just another person in the sea of red and black, and locates his seat without much trouble. It’s just that, when he sits down, it dawns on him all of a sudden how big of an event this is.

There are people everywhere. And all of them are talking, babbling about which team is going to win and which players are the best. Kenma feels himself freeze up, his anxiety starting to take over. No, he admonishes himself. You can do this. You have to.

It doesn’t help all that much, but it’s a nice kick in the ass regardless. Kenma sits straight up in his seat and scans the court below. 

It’s easy enough to spot Tetsurou. His hair, big, dark, and messy, is distinctive from anyone else’s. Kenma wonders if it doesn’t get in the way sometimes when he’s playing and why he doesn’t just style it differently. He’s shooting around right now as a warmup, and Kenma thinks that, purely objectively of course, Tetsurou’s very attractive when he’s on the court.

(Or maybe - maybe - it’s not all that objective at all.)

He watches Tetsurou all through the warm-up, watches the way that Tetsurou interacts with the other team members - slapping them on the back, whispering what Kenma assumes must be little encouragements in their ears based on the way they grin in response. It’s almost like Tetsurou’s an older brother or something. 

Cute, Kenma thinks, and then mentally slaps himself in response. 

The game starts soon after. The five starters take the court. Tetsurou stands in the middle, glancing around from side to side, as if he’s searching for something. Kenma doesn’t understand what it could possibly be. All of his teammates are there, whether on the court or on the bench. But then Tetsurou’s eyes fall on Kenma in the stands, his gaze heated, and his lips twist up into a smile. Suddenly, Kenma understands.

He was looking for me. 

His heart squeezes hard in his chest. 

His anxiety only gets worse throughout the course of the game. The Karasuno-Nekoma rivalry is strong, and both sides give the game what seems like even more than 100% of their effort. The score keeps fluctuating. One minute Nekoma is up 24-20, but the next they’re down 26-30. Kenma doesn’t exactly think of himself as a person who gets overly invested in sports, but he finds himself on the edge of his seat. He watches as the other team invests a lot of energy into trying to stop Tetsurou, and he watches as Tetsurou manages to block one of the opposing team’s players and score on them anyways, sending a smug smirk their way and then glancing up into the bleachers to wink. Kenma can’t tell if it’s directed at him or not. 

He wonders if it would be bad to hope it is.

The energy in the stadium is electric, thousands of people chanting “Go! Go! Nekoma!” and “Neko- ma! Neko- ma! Neko-neko-neko-ma!” in unison. Kenma can’t bring himself to yell as loud as the others, but he mouths along the words anyways and digs his nails into his palm. Nekoma can’t lose this game. They can’t.

But then it’s the second half and there’s only a minute left, and the two teams are tied, 90-90. Kenma’s pretty sure he’s never felt anxiety quite like this. He wants to get up and pace around the room, but it’d be weird to pace around a stadium. So he just bites down on his lip and prays to a god he’s not sure even exists. Would God even care about the outcome of some silly college basketball game? Probably not, but he prays anyways. 

And then, with just a few seconds on the clock, one of Tetsurou’s teammates takes a shot - and the shot goes in. 

Chaos erupts all around Kenma. People are screaming and cheering and clapping and hugging. Kenma winces, even though he knows that most likely no one’s going to attempt to hug him. He freezes after, though. He doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, he thinks as the team runs off of the court and into the locker room. Should he wait around? Does Tetsurou want to see him? Should he just head back? Leaving alone seems kind of anticlimactic after that game, but Kenma doesn’t want to assume that Tetsurou wants to talk to him. He freezes up again, feeling his breathing speed up. But before he can fully panic, his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He pulls it out, seeing a text from Tetsurou. Hey, can you wait like ten minutes and then come to the locker room? Want to see you. 

A shiver runs down Kenma’s spine. 

He sends back a short affirmative message and waits, though, his fingers drumming on his thigh, until his phone buzzes again. Then he makes his way to the locker room. His heart speeds up in his chest. 

And then he makes it to the locker room at long last, and he sees Tetsurou standing there. Tetsurou’s still covered in sweat from the game, his hair somewhat slicked back out of his eyes. He’s ethereal, Kenma thinks, and Kenma steps forward. 

“Kenma,” Tetsurou says, his voice cracking at the end, and then he steps forward too. He steps forward, taking Kenma into his arms and pulling Kenma close to him. Kenma doesn’t resist. He soaks in the warmth of Tetsurou’s chest, even though it’s sweaty and kind of disgusting. He finds that in this moment, he can’t bring himself to care.

Then Tetsurou pulls back slightly, his gaze landing on Kenma’s face. He raises an eyebrow in question. Kenma thinks he understands. So he gives a slight nod. 

Yes.

Tetsurou’s lips meet his. It’s warm and slow at first, Tetsurou gently pulling him closer, but then it quickly escalates, becoming more heated. Kenma doesn’t realize they’re even moving until his back hits the cold metal of a locker. Reflexively, he pulls back, and Tetsurou’s eyes widen. “Oh,” he says. “Oh, oh my god. I didn’t - I shouldn’t have - I’m so sorry.”

Kenma blinks, his brain finally catching up to what exactly is going on. Then, his voice coming out a little bit breathier than he’d like, he says, “No, it’s okay.” Tetsurou meets him with an expression of pure confusion, so, rather than trying to explain, Kenma leans in. 

Their lips meet again, and Kenma doesn’t really have a word for this feeling other than maybe that it’s pure bliss. He pulls Tetsurou closer, one hand snaking into the back of Tetsurou’s messy hair, and Tetsurou makes a noise of approval into his mouth that sends a tremor down Kenma’s spine. Kenma pulls back before things can get any more heated. “You like me?” he says dubiously. 

“Like might be putting it lightly,” Tetsurou admits sheepishly. “It’s more like I’m completely infatuated with you.”

Kenma just stares at him, unable to comprehend what he’s hearing right now. “You’re telling me that nationwide famous basketball player and NBA hopeful Tetsurou Kuroo is infatuated with me , of all people?”

“You have too little faith in yourself,” Tetsurou replies. “Let me put it this way. Kenma Kozume, you are, by far, the most interesting person I’ve ever met.”

Kenma kisses him again because he can’t resist, and then one more time just because he wants to, because kissing Tetsurou has quickly proven to become very intoxicating and very, very addicting. Once he pulls back, Tetsurou says in a low voice, “You like me ?”

“Well, yeah,” Kenma admits. “You’re not who I thought you were. You’re… much better. And I like the real you. I like the real you a lot.”

“I thought you weren’t a basketball fan,” Tetsurou says, his tone teasing.

“I don’t have to be a basketball fan to be a fan of you, stupid,” Kenma huffs. “And besides…” He lowers his tone. “I think I’ve realized that sometimes basketball can be pretty entertaining, after all. But don’t go spreading that around.”

Tetsurou’s eyes light up again. He presses a light kiss to Kenma’s lips, a smile tugging at the edges of his mouth as he says, “I’m glad I could change your mind.”

“What does this mean, though?” Kenma says, and when Tetsurou gives him a look of confusion, Kenma motions between the two of them. “ This. What are we?”

“Oh,” Tetsurou says, and then swallows. “Uh. Well, like I said, I really like you. And I want to be with you. I want to be able to call you my boyfriend. But…”

“But?” Kenma prompts. 

“But, uh, my team doesn’t know I’m gay. Or, well, I’m bi actually, but y’know, interested in men,” Tetsurou admits, glancing away. “Neither does the media. Actually, you’re the first person that really knows. So, uh, there’s that.”

“What, it’s not obvious to everyone else?” Kenma asks, raising an eyebrow. Tetsurou shakes his head, his eyes still downcast, and Kenma sighs. “Are you asking me to be your dirty little secret? Because I just don’t think that’s something I can do.”

“No,” Tetsurou reassures him. “No, that’s not what I’m asking you at all. Okay, uh, let me be more clear then. I want to date you. I want you to be my boyfriend. But I’m just… I’m just asking for a little more time before we tell everyone else.”

Kenma thinks on this for a moment more, then he nods. “Okay. I guess I can do a little more time.” He stretches up, pressing a kiss to his now-boyfriend’s lips. “Congrats on the win, by the way. I forgot to say that earlier.”

Tetsurou grins, a grin that takes over his whole face and lights up his features. “Thanks. But really, I feel like I’ve won twice today.”

“Gross,” Kenma says, but the corners of his mouth tug up into a smile anyways.

He gets a text from Shouyou later that night, a text in all caps with the message “HEY DID YOU WATCH THE GAME WHAT DID YOU THINK.” Kenma replies, “told you you chose the wrong school” and then smiles to himself. He’ll tell Shouyou eventually, he supposes. Just - not quite yet.

.

“How was the game?” Taketora crows the second he manages to track Kenma down the next day. He has run up beside Kenma, his cheeks red and breath quick, but he gets out, “You got back late last night, didn’t ya? Did somethin’ happen?” anyways. 

“I hung out with Tetsurou for a little bit after the game,” Kenma says with a shrug, though his cheeks heat up a little at the memory of what exactly hanging out with Tetsurou had entailed. “Nothing big. We had a few drinks in celebration.”

“Did you go clubbing with the rest of the club?” Taketora pries, wide-eyed.

“No. Do you even know me at all?”

“Yeah, well, that’s why I was surprised! So what then, you just hung out alone with Tetsurou fuckin’ Kuroo for a couple of hours?”

“Yes,” Kenma snaps. “It was just a casual hangout. Don’t make it sound so weird.”

“Suuuure,” Taketora drawls, his face too smug, and Kenma is considering yelling at him when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He pulls it out to see a text from Tetsurou. Good afternoon, beautiful. Want to hang out later tonight? We can play games or whatever you want. The soft tone of the text brings a blush to his cheeks. Of course, as oblivious as Taketora tends to be, this is the one thing he picks up on. “Who ya texting with that kind of a smile on your face?”

“No one,” Kenma grumbles, but he fires off a quick yeah, of course and then a heart. “Just about a group project.” 

“A group project,” Taketora says, “like the group project you did with Tetsurou?”

“Just a group project,” Kenma says, and then resolves himself into a steady silence of ignoring Taketora. 

That night, though, Tetsurou comes over to his dorm so that they can play on Kenma’s video game system. Kenma finds himself situated in Tetsurou’s lap, his back pressed against Tetsurou’s muscular chest, Tetsurou’s arms wound around his back, and it’s mildly distracting. He can feel Tetsurou’s warm breath on his neck as he plays. Still, even with his attention divided, Kenma manages to kick Tetsurou’s ass in every game they play.

Well, almost every game.

“I can’t believe they gave you a star for doing absolutely nothing,” Kenma laments. “God, Mario Party is such a game of luck.” 

“Maybe you just need to get good,” Tetsurou replies smugly. 

“I am good,” Kenma protests. “I beat you in almost every mini game we played.”

“And yet, when it came down to it, you still couldn’t beat me in the game that mattered,” Tetsurou says smugly. 

God, he’s such an asshole, Kenma thinks. But he can think of one surefire way to get Tetsurou to shut up. 

He twists around in Tetsurou’s lap to connect their lips, pulling Tetsurou closer by his shirt, holding on for dear life. Tetsurou clings to him just as desperately, and Kenma feels his own lips turning up. “Wow,” Tetsurou says when he pulls back, his hot breath ghosting over Kenma’s mouth. “Maybe I should beat you at games more often.”

“Not happening,” Kenma says, but he kisses Tetsurou again anyways.

.

Even though their group project is over, their class together still isn’t, and when Kenma gets to class a couple of days later, Tetsurou’s already there with a to-go cup that he holds out to Kenma. “This is for you.”

Kenma narrows his eyes at Tetsurou. “You didn’t have to…. Wait, what is this?”

“Hot chocolate, obviously. What, you think I’d forget?”

For some reason, that sentence alone is enough to send a shiver down Kenma’s spine. He tries not to let this show, however. “You really didn’t have to,” he says. 

“Of course I didn’t have to,” Tetsurou says. “I just wanted to. Am I not allowed to spoil my…” he lowers his voice. “My boyfriend.”

It sends another shiver down Kenma’s spine. He wills it away. “I guess you’re allowed,” he says, and, taking the hot chocolate from Tetsurou, he adds, “Thank you.”

Kenma finds he’s all-too-aware of Tetsurou sitting next to him for the remainder of class, his warmth bleeding through the air despite the inches of distance between them. It’s torturous. Kenma begins to regret every decision he’d ever made that led him to this point, because he feels like he might actually explode at this rate.  

Kenma’s not sure what exactly he’d expected from Tetsurou as a boyfriend, but he certainly had not expected Tetsurou to be as… attentive as he is. He seems to love these small gestures, to enjoy bringing Kenma small surprises and whispering tiny words of affection in his ear. In their moments of privacy, he holds Kenma close, pressing tender kisses above his ear and on his forehead. 

Truthfully, Kenma doesn’t know a lot about being in a relationship. He’s never been in one before. But he likes to think this one is going pretty well.

The only problem, though, is that it’s not an easy thing to hide. 

“You’ve definitely got more pep in your step,” Taketora observes, an incredibly annoying smirk on his face. “Did something happen?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Kenma replies flatly. Truthfully, he doesn’t really - he doesn’t think he’s walking any more ‘peppy’ than usual. “Everything’s the same as usual.”

“Hmm,” Shouhei says. “That bite on your neck would say otherwise.”

Kenma’s hand flies up to his neck, landing on a bump. He makes a mental note to give his boyfriend hell for it later that day. “It’s a bug bite,” he says. 

“It hasn’t been over 50 for weeks now,” Shouhei points out. Kenma contemplates murder as a silencing tactic. 

But, even with the pressure from Shouhei and Taketora, Kenma does not give in. He’s not the kind of asshole who’d out Tetsurou before Tetsurou is ready. Still, Kenma’s not too fond of lying, especially this often. It’s exhausting to try to come up with backstories for where he was and who he was with and what he was doing. It’s exhausting to lie to Shouyou, to tell him that everything’s the same as usual. He’s never been a particularly good actor, after all.

But he tries. For Tetsurou’s sake, he tries. Because he really, really likes Tetsurou, despite the fact that he’d thought for the longest time that Tetsurou was the last person he could ever get along with. It’s crazy, the lengths fate will go to prove Kenma wrong. 

Tetsurou takes Kenma on a date one weekend. It’s to a steakhouse two towns over, far enough away and secluded enough that Tetsurou claims no one will be able to recognize them. Kenma admittedly has his doubts, but he decides if Tetsurou’s content, then he is too. He won’t be the one to ruin this for the two of them. 

“Have a seat,” Tetsurou says, pulling Kenma’s chair out for him. 

“Aren’t you the gentleman,” Kenma quips, and Tetsurou beams. Kenma pulls out the menu, glancing down the selections, and then looks back up at Tetsurou. “These prices are ridiculous.”

“It’s my treat, don’t worry about it,” Tetsurou says passively.

This doesn’t reassure Kenma at all. “I can’t let you drop a hundred bucks on one meal for the two of us,” Kenma protests. 

“I’m on full scholarship,” Tetsurou replies. “All my shit is paid for. Let me use my money to treat my boyfriend to a meal, yeah?” He brushes Kenma’s hand reassuringly with his own, and Kenma gives in, despite the weird feeling that still lingers in the pit of his stomach. 

But after the food arrives and they’re digging into their plates, Tetsurou’s head snaps around at the speed of light. He tugs at Kenma’s wrist and hisses, “Duck,” and, out of respect for his boyfriend, Kenma joins him under the table. He raises an eyebrow at Tetsurou. “What the hell is going on?”

“I saw someone I know,” Tetsurou says, peeking out over the edge of the table. Slowly, his shoulders relax. “Ah. False alarm. Sorry, let’s get back to dinner.” 

Kenma blinks, but makes his way out from under the table regardless. He does his best to enjoy the dinner, the time with his boyfriend. Still, he can’t stop the sinking feeling in his stomach that tells him this is the beginning of a sharp downward slope. 

.

He tries to ignore it at first. He’s not someone who’s big on PDA to begin with, so in the beginning, it doesn't bother him that Tetsurou doesn’t want to hold his hand in public or really be seen with him in public that often. But over time, the little things start to build up. The fact that when they’re doing something that could be construed as romantic, Tetsurou is constantly looking around in paranoia; the way Tetsurou purposely puts a foot of distance between them, as if he’s overly paranoid, and the constant hiding whenever they go anywhere: it’s all starting to wear down on Kenma. Finally, he has someone he actually genuinely likes, and he has no one to talk to about it. It’s ridiculous. 

This all comes to a head one night when they’re walking across campus, trying to get to Kenma’s dorm room. “We should go this way,” Tetsurou says. “It’s the long way, I know, but we’re less likely to get caught - “

“How long?” Kenma interrupts him. 

“What?” Tetsurou’s eyes narrow. “I mean, it takes like five minutes more, probably, but - “

“No, not that.” Kenma inhales deeply. “How long are you going to be hiding?”

Tetsurou looks shell-shocked for a moment. “Kenma, I…” he finally says after a moment, but then trails off, as though he’s lost the words to say. 

“Another two months? Another six? A year?” Kenma says, his tone not loud but still feeling harsh, somehow. “When is it going to get easier to tell everyone? I told you I didn’t want to be your dirty little secret, but that’s what it’s feeling like.”

Tetsurou stares at him hopelessly. “I just need some time,” he says, his voice hoarse.

“How much more time?” Kenma asks. Tetsurou blinks, at an apparent loss for words, and Kenma frowns. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice soft. “I just… I think I need some time, too. It’s just that… I don’t know. I started to like you in the first place because I thought you were different than who I assumed you were. But now… now, I just think maybe you’re exactly what I thought you were.”

He starts down the short path to his apartment. “Kenma,” Tetsurou calls, tone somewhat desperate. “Kenma, please, I….”

But Kenma doesn’t look back.

.

His first instinct is to call Shouyou: far enough away to be able to escape Tetsurou, but close enough to be able to get there in half an hour on a bus. “I need fresh scenery and to stop thinking about life here,” Kenma pleas when Shouyou asks him why he’s so desperate to get off campus. 

“Okay, sure,” Shouyou says, though he doesn’t seem all that satisfied with Kenma’s explanation.

So Kenma hops on a bus to Karasuno with a backpack full of clothes and a heart that’s far too heavy. He leans his head against the window, playing sad Radiohead songs in his headphones to suit his current mood. It’s all he can do to keep himself from breaking down. 

Staying with Shouyou is… different, Kenma thinks. He sleeps on a futon on Shouyou’s floor, which is depressing in and of itself. He tries to avoid Shouyou’s questions about how much class he’s missing and when he’s going back and why he’s there in the first place. Since it’s Shouyou, his questions don’t come off as rude - rather, spoken with genuine curiosity and care. But the problem is that Kenma doesn’t exactly have an answer. The idea of going back terrifies him. 

One day, though, he walks into Shouyou’s den to find the TV on ESPN. Kenma raises an eyebrow at him. “Are you watching this?”

“Yeah,” Shouyou chirps. “They’re talking about college basketball, it’s really cool! Actually, I think they’re about to interview someone from your school’s team…”

Kenma’s heart stops. No, he chants internally. It can’t be. 

But, because fate hates him or something, it is. 

“We have an exclusive interview with Nekoma star Tetsurou Kuroo, who says he has a confession to make,” the ESPN reporter says. Kenma feels the panic rising in his throat, but he can’t bring himself to ask Shouyou to change it. What would he even say, anyways? “I’m just not a fan” - it doesn’t even make sense to his own ears. So he sits, paralyzed, and listens. 

“I do, actually,” Tetsurou says, running a hand through his hair, his expression all scrunched up. “I’ve been kind of an idiot for the past couple of months - I mean, there’s something I’ve been hiding. From my teammates, from my family, from everyone. I’m…” Tetsurou inhales, and Kenma’s heart stops beating. 

“I’m gay.”

Kenma nearly keels over. On the screen, Tetsurou keeps talking. “Or, I’m bisexual, actually, but well, I’m interested in men. And there’s this one guy in particular that I can’t stop thinking about. And if you see this, you know this is for you. I’m tired of hiding, too. And I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me.” He pauses. “I know the field of sports hasn’t historically been kind to gay people, but I hope you can all accept me nonetheless.”

“That was brave of him,” Shouyou comments beside him, his voice bright.

“Yeah,” Kenma says. “Yeah, it… it really was. I - shit, I’ve got to go.”

“You… you….” Shouyou looks at the TV, the dots finally connecting in his head. “You and Tetsurou Kuroo?!”

“Yeah,” Kenma says, and it feels like a relief to finally say it, to have it out in the open. “He’s…” Kenma can’t find the words. “Uh, he’s special.”

“I see,” Shouyou says, and then grins. “You’d better go get your man then.”

“Yeah,” Kenma says, finally smiling back. “Yeah, I guess I should.”

.

Kenma makes it back to the bus stop before he calls Tetsurou. Tetsurou answers on the second ring. “Hey,” Kenma says, voice winded. “Where are you?”

“Wha - Kenma?” 

“I saw the interview,” Kenma says quickly. “Just - where are you?”

“I just got back to campus. Uh, I can meet you at your dorm room?”

“That works,” Kenma says, and sets off walking. 

When Kenma sees him, for a moment, he’s not sure what to do. He wants to yell, to cry, to hug him, to do all and none of it. But then Tetsurou’s face softens the slightest bit, and Kenma doesn’t hesitate any longer before he steps forward and into Tetsurou’s arms. 

“You saw the interview,” Tetsurou repeats, giving Kenma a squeeze. “I - you liked it.”

“You didn’t have to do all that,” Kenma says. “I - I would’ve been happy with less hiding or something.”

“Well, it’s too late for that now,” Tetsurou says with a chuckle and a kiss to Kenma’s head. “But, hey, it’s fine. Now we never have to hide again.”

Kenma steps back so he can look Tetsurou in the eyes. “How are people taking it?”

“My family’s mostly fine,” Tetsurou says. “My grandma said she basically knew already and my dad just said if I’m happy, he’s happy. My teammates have been cool about it for the most part, just some light-hearted teasing. But… people online…. God, the fucking comment sections. Stuff about how I’m going to hell, they’re gonna stop supporting me, and something about how I’m too girly to be playing basketball?”

“Ah,” Kenma says, because he can imagine, and can’t help the guilt that washes over him. “I’m. I’m really sorry to hear that.”

“It sucks,” Tetsurou says, and then his voice gets slightly louder, rising in pitch in a way that Kenma’s not quite used to. “It sucks that these people think they have any fucking say in my life. If I want to date the most perfect person on the planet, who also just so happens to be a guy, how is that any business of theirs? How does that affect my ability to play basketball in any way, shape, or form?”

Kenma swallows. He’s not used to dealing with angry people, and truth be told, he’s a little nervous about interacting with a pissed off Tetsurou. But, well, it’s Tetsurou. It’s Tetsurou, and over the past couple of months, Kenma has gotten to know Tetsurou on an entirely new level. He trusts Tetsurou, ridiculous as though it may seem to the Kenma from six months ago. So he steps forward again, wrapping his arms tightly around Tetsurou’s muscled waist, putting his head just over Tetsurou’s heart where he can hear the steady thrum of Tetsurou’s heartbeat. Tetsurou looks down at him. Kenma watches the features of Tetsurou’s face soften, one by one, and then he tucks his head down on top of Kenma’s. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I’m just - it’s just frustrating, y’know? It’s so dumb.”

“I know,” Kenma says. “But… regardless of what they say, I’m here. I’ll be here no matter what. You’ve got me.”

Tetsurou presses his head into Kenma’s, tightening his arms around Kenma. “I can’t believe I’ve gotten so lucky,” he admits, and then, “Is it too much to say that I think I love you?”

It is a lot, Kenma thinks. It’s a lot of sensations Kenma never thought he could feel. But the thing is… 

“It’s okay. Because I think…. I think I love you too.”

He feels the same way.

.

Later that night, when they’re both holed up in Kenma’s bed, Tetsurou already dead asleep with Kenma’s head on his chest, Kenma’s phone buzzes with a text. Im guessing the interview was about you huh, Taketora has texted him.

Kenma laughs quietly, typing out a response. yeah. I guess you could say that.

GET ME TICKETS TO A GAME WTF, comes Taketora’s almost immediate response. Shouhei must have yelled at him or something, though, because it’s almost immediately followed up with, And shouhei too!!

we’ll see, Kenma replies before setting his phone down. Looking up at his Tetsurou, at the tiny smile curving Tetsurou’s lips, he thinks Tetsurou could probably get him tickets if he asked. 

He’ll think about it, he decides before he drifts off to sleep.