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Before Bokuto even knew it, their third year of high school had ended and he and Kuroo had bought an apartment together a block away from their college campus.
Sometimes, Bokuto did realize how stupid he could be. Not all the time, but there were those few moments that made him want to tear out his dual-colored hair—shorter than it had been when he had been attending Fukurodani Academy—and cry at the misfortune he had brought down upon himself. Such moments included: When Kuroo exits the bathroom, freshly showered, droplets of water falling from his damp hair and onto his chest, sliding down chiseled abs and beneath the towel loosely wrapped around his waist; when Kuroo brings him into a completely friendly hug, forcing Bokuto’s nose closer to his neck and almost causing him to pass out in order for him to not breathe in his bittersweet dark chocolate scent; when Kuroo throws his head back and cackles like a goddamn hyena, and really, it should not be as cute and endearing as it is, but of course it is because he’s Kuroo.
In short, Bokuto is suffering in silence. Akaashi has started ignoring him whenever he brings up his crush, and Bokuto would die before telling anybody else his secrets.
(“If you’re not going to do anything about it, don’t bother calling me at 2am in the morning because you can’t grow a pair and confess to him.”
“But Akaashi…!”)
Heats are a literal pain in the ass. If he knew how it felt to be super fucking horny when the object of your affections was only on the other side of their shared apartment—or, if Kuroo decides to stay with Kenma, a floor below him—Bokuto would have never agreed to room with him. Luckily for him, heats weren’t completely unbearable when Akaashi was around, keeping him well-fed and hydrated, and cuddling him when he was extra needy. The beta may seem impassive, but he was an absolute sweetheart when he wanted to be.
Bokuto’s heat had just ended three days before and the omega had managed to completely bounce back to his original state. His temperatures were normal, his scent had calmed, and he was no longer super horny. That was another thing that he fucking hated about living with his crush. Before, his heats were slightly hazy and not super unbearable. Now? If Akaashi wasn’t there to calm him down, he probably would have already done something absolutely embarrassing that would force him to leave the country, change his identity, and live as a lone hermit in the middle of nowhere.
When he exits his room his eyes immediately lock onto the figure sitting in their living area. Kuroo is sprawled out on their cheap, beat-up couch which they had taken from a previous tenant—Bokuto had a tiny scar on his shin as a result of him taking a tumble during their first attempt of dragging it noisily down the stairs. The alpha’s feet were propped up on the glass coffee table, one arm draped over the back of the couch while his free hand was used to scroll through his phone. By the way he was tapping, it looked like he was most likely looking through his Instagram feed.
Kuroo’s nose twitches before he looks up, his cat-like hazel eyes connecting with Bokuto’s golden orbs. His lips are already quirked in his signature smirk, and the omega catches a hint of mischief in his eye.
“I know you’ve had a rough couple of days-” Bokuto cringes internally, “-but I was wondering if you felt up to go out tonight. Some dudes in my class invited me to a little get-together at that one bar. Y’know, the one with the busted sign?” Bokuto nods. “Anyway, they said I could bring anyone I wanted. You down?”
He knew he would regret it later, but passing up a chance to hang out with Kuroo, especially when he was the one to initiate it? There was no way he was going to say no to that even though he knew him, his stupid crush, and alcohol would definitely not mix.
“I’m down!”
When they arrive at the bar—and by bar, he means club— Kuroo’s friends welcome them with drunken jeers and clumsy back-slaps. Even though Bokuto had never been properly introduced to them until then, they treated him as if he had already been part of the group.
Felix, a blond, Swedish-Japanese alpha, had seemed quite uncomfortable when the Bokuto first appeared, but eventually warmed up to the energetic omega enough to give a few stilted answers to his questions. Kenji, a stalky beta who had obviously passed the point of being tipsy, didn’t hold back from tight hugs and slurred conversation. Yukio, another pale-haired alpha, shared Kuroo’s mischievous nature and nonchalant demeanor and welcomed Bokuto with a wink.
However, Bokuto couldn’t help but feel uncomfortable around the rest of the group which consisted of two female omegas. One of them was Kenji’s older sister, a slim, dark-eyed brunette named Anzu who glowered at Bokuto whenever Kuroo ever came close to him. Her friend, a soft-looking girl with her round face perfectly framed by her short raven-black locks, obviously seemed to dislike him as well but made more of an attempt to hide her disdain.
Bokuto didn’t know what he did to get on their bad sides since he hadn’t even interacted with them other than when he was being introduced to them. Could he possibly smell like his heat still? Some omegas became hostile whenever an unknown omega in heat was near them, but he had made sure his scent was back to normal. Whatever it was, he doubted he could figure out how to fix it.
An hour after their arrival Bokuto is only slightly tipsy, sitting at the bar with some sort of fruity drink held in his hand. Most of the time he had been there he had spent chatting excitedly with Yukio about their respective sports—volleyball for Bokuto (obviously) and gymnastics for Yukio—while Felix simply nodded along with whatever they were saying, sipping on his simple beer. Yukio was now lost in the crowd of gyrating bodies and mixing pheromones, dancing with a trashed Kenji.
The black-and-silver-haired omega gazes into the crowd, feeling quite bored. It wasn’t often that he felt so down, but something felt...off. Maybe it was the fact that he was surrounded by people he didn’t know, but that wasn’t likely; his energetic personality never faltered when he met new people. Maybe it was the fact that Anzu kept on glaring at him? It wasn’t rare to find people who disliked him, annoyed by his lively demeanor and over-affectionate actions, but it didn’t hit as hard as it did when he had been at Fukurodani. No, it must be because he wasn’t with Kuroo, or the fact that Anzu had been all over the dark-haired alpha.
As if the living mass of people had read his mind, it parted to reveal Kuroo—face flushed both from drinking and dancing—and the slim omega shimmying a little too close to him. An emotion he’d rarely ever felt flashed through him, causing his jaw to tense and his hand to momentarily tighten around the half-filled glass in his hand. It hurt to see the alpha seem so content having the other omega rubbing up against him, and the sight made the familiar insecurities fill his head.
When comparing himself to Anzu, he could easily see why Kuroo would choose her over him any day. While he was well-built and broad, she had the slim build of a runner. She had the natural omegan curves that he lacked, and she obviously knew how to use her body. And she was female, which most alphas preferred. While male omegas were sought out for their rarity instead of attraction, male omegas also had a harder time bearing children. Bokuto had long come to terms with the fact that he was almost guaranteed to never have his own sons or daughters.
He is brought out of his thoughts when he feels a hand gently nudge his arm. He looks over to see Felix raising one pale brow at him, silently asking if he was okay. Bokuto sniffs the air, realizing that his scent must have soured during his pouting. He plasters a large smile on his face and gives the alpha a thumbs-up with his free hand. When Felix looks away, unsatisfied but not bothering to verbally question what had made the omega so upset, he focuses on calming his scent down; a beta nearby had also started giving him weird glances.
As soon as he turns back to look into the crowd, he sees Kuroo glance his way. At first, Bokuto panics, wondering if his displeasure had made his scent stronger than he had thought. To his relief, instead of looking concerned, Kuroo drunkenly beckoned to him with a wave of his hand. From what the omega had witnessed earlier, Kuroo was more than tipsy.
Bokuto hesitated for a small moment before knocking back the rest of his brightly-colored drink. He set his now empty glass down next to Felix’s still half-full beer bottle before shouldering his way through the undulating dancers to reach his friend. As he walks up to him he notices that Anzu had left, probably to get another drink or to go to the restroom.
He yelps when he feels sturdy fingers circle his left wrist, laughing as Kuroo pulls him closer. Before he realizes it, he’s just another dancer in the throng of drunk college students, and he’s slowly getting pushed closer and closer to the alpha who is currently lethargically smirking at him.
Oh, Bokuto thinks as he feels one of Kuroo’s hands land on his hip, the other still holding onto his wrist. They’re so close. Way too close for Bokuto to be comfortable, but he just can’t get enough. As long as they’re just dancing, it should be fine, right? He knows that platonic friends do this all the time. It’s not too different if one of them has more-than-platonic feelings for the other, right?
When he didn’t think it could get any better worse, Kuroo’s grip leaves his wrist and Bokuto is suddenly spun around, his back pressing up against Kuroo’s front. Oh god, he can feel everything. He was sure that if someone were to try to slip a piece of paper in between their bodies they wouldn’t be able to—who would try that anyway?
He can sense everything. He feels the warmth of the alpha’s broad chest against his shoulder blades, his large hands gripping his hips, his chin hooked over his shoulder. The scents around them have all but disappeared, surrounding him only with the smell of dark chocolate and sea salt, along with something else that he cannot define. It’s so good.
Suddenly, something else invades his senses. He feels the burn of someone’s angry gaze brush over them, causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. The sensual, bittersweetness of Kuroo’s scent is interrupted by the sharp tang of lemons, and Bokuto has to hold back a dissatisfied hiss when he turns his head to see Anzu glowering at their intertwined bodies.
The tensing of his muscles must have alerted the alpha behind him of his dismay, hazel eyes following his gaze to land on the female omega. When Anzu sees that she has the alpha’s attention, a smirk of her own pulls at her freshly-glossed lips. Unlike Kuroo’s lazy, friendly face, her expression makes her look almost twisted, and Bokuto shivers at her visage.
The taste of lemons leaves his mouth only to be replaced by the peachiness of apricots. It’s strong to the point of overpowering, and Bokuto feels the need to throw up. The feeling intensifies when he realizes what she’s trying to do. They may be in a large crowd of people, but it’s obvious by the way she’s staring at the dark-haired man that she’s targeting him in particular.
Pheromones are a dangerous weapon and can be used against alpha and omega, male and female, and sometimes betas as well. It is an often occurrence for an omega, drunk or in heat, to have been forced to submit by an alpha’s scent, but it isn’t rare to hear about a shaken alpha waking up in the bed of an omega, clueless to whatever had led up to that point, not knowing how to react.
The bitch was trying to seduce his drunk friend with her pheromones.
The flare of anger inside of him dies immediately when, instead of being enraptured by Anzu’s intoxicating scent, Kuroo ignores it and presses his face into Bokuto’s neck hard and inhales. His golden eyes widen at the feeling of his friend’s nose brushing along his scent glands, his face flushing both from the embarrassment of someone touching him so intimately, and the unwelcome pleasure of having his fucking crush scent him in public.
When the throng of people disperses due to Anzu’s overpowering scent, Bokuto realizes that it is time for them to leave. Omegas and betas alike use their hands and shirts to cover their faces, eyes watering as apricot and lemon wafts through the air. A few alphas, sober enough to realize what is going on, do the same, while others have to be pushed from the room by their friends. The bouncer, a short-haired beta male, pulls Anzu away from the dance floor, his nose scrunched up in dismay. Her round-faced friend follows close behind, glancing nervously between the angry omega and the two still standing in the middle of the dispersing crowd.
“Kuroo,” Bokuto says, bouncing the shoulder the other’s head was resting on to get his attention. “Bro, you gotta let go.”
The alpha nuzzles against his scent glands one last time before slowly detaching himself from the shorter man, his expression cloudy and dazed. “You smell so good, dude,” he slurs, practically purring.
“How much did you drink?” the dual-colored hair omega breathes out, pushing Kuroo’s face away. Just how drunk was he? Did he even realize what he had been doing? When he woke up the next day, would he remember practically feeling him up and publicly scenting him? At this point, Bokuto sure hoped he didn’t. He wouldn’t normally let something like this faze him, but this was not something he would like to ever talk about to his friend.
The rest of the night is spent saying their goodbyes and dragging Kuroo back home with the help of Felix. Kenji had to take Yukio and his pouting sister home, both too drunk to drive. Felix had offered to help bring Kuroo back to their apartment, leaving them at their door with few words and a stiff nod.
Bokuto clumsily unlocks their door with Kuroo still attached to his side, sighing with relief when they are finally able to enter the apartment. He shuts the door behind them and pockets the key, leading his roommate to his bedroom and setting him down on his bed. Not long after Kuroo pulls off his shoes, he’s fast asleep, sprawled out on his back.
Bokuto takes the man’s shoes and places them next to the entrance of their apartment before sliding his own off. He gets a bottle of aspirin and a cup of water and sets them down on the nightstand situated next to Kuroo’s bed. Based on how drunk he was acting he would be hungover the next morning.
Thirty minutes later his teeth are brushed and he is dressed in his night clothes lying under his covers, staring up at the ceiling. When he had agreed to go out with Kuroo and his friends he had not been expecting that. He’d expected innocent drinking, laughing, and maybe a little bit of dancing. What he didn’t expect was a club, hostile women, and his alpha friend (and secret crush) to drunkenly grind against him in a throng of sweaty hormonal people and then scent him when one of the hostile women decided to get a little too cocky.
He heaves a rib-cracking sigh and rolls onto his side, now staring at the glowing red numbers of his alarm clock. Kuroo had been drunk, and Bokuto hoped it was enough to forget about the night—or at least the events that included him pressing up against him . At first, Bokuto cursed Anzu for ruining that moment for him, for he would have been willing to do anything the alpha wished to do with him. Then he begrudgingly thanked her in his head for stepping in when she did, for Kuroo had been drunk and he had been mostly sober, and it would have been irresponsible and wrong if he were to let whatever had been happening in those moments continue.
The omega harshly rubs his face with his hand, letting out another sigh. When he wakes up in the morning, he will pretend to forget about their more-than-friendly grinding session, and he will be the happy, excitable, and boisterous Bokuto he had always been. If he was lucky, Kuroo would do the same. And if the gods decided to bless him, Kuroo wouldn’t remember at all and he wouldn’t ever find out.
As he promised himself the night before, he wakes up and gets ready for the day, barely letting himself think about what will be dubbed as “Nothing.” What will be his reply if Kuroo asks him about the events at the bar? Nothing. What will he answer with if one of the other volleyball members asks him if anything exciting happened over the weekend? Nothing happened. What will be on his mind when he has nothing to distract him from his whirling thoughts? Nothing.
By the time Kuroo exits his room, Bokuto has already showered and breakfast is sitting on the island. A month after moving in together, they had both realized that they definitely could not live off of instant ramen and store-bought boiled eggs, and both had learned to cook a few dishes to keep them from buying pre-packaged foods in bulk.
The dark-haired man slumps into his seat, obviously sporting a killer hangover. His bed-head is even worse and he hadn’t even managed to change out of last night’s clothes, his black tee rumpled and his black skinny jeans look twisted, the seams visibly out of place. “Thanks, Bo,” he says before digging in. By then, the omega had already eaten, now resting his hip against the island, hair down and arms crossed over his chest. He’s looking down at his legs, not making eye contact with his friend.
Kuroo finishes and pushes his plate to the side, propping one of his arms up on the counter and resting his chin in his hand. He scrutinizes the other man, raising a brow as he asks the dreaded question: “What happened last night?”
Bokuto looks up and smiles.
“Nothing, really…”