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Kenma was tired of talking. He was tired of wondering what the right thing to say was, and the anxiety that came with accidentally saying the wrong thing. He only had so much energy to get through each day, and he didn’t like having to spend it on thinking through his words before he talked. That, and half the time he didn’t even know what to say to things.
Just that morning, Koutarou had asked, “What do you think of the new ramen shop down the block?” And Kenma just - he didn’t know, was he supposed to think something of it? The neon lights were a little much but it made for a nice midnight snack vibe, and the waiter stressed him out a little, but their food was...fine?
Which part was he supposed to say? He didn’t want to be rude by mentioning what he didn’t like, but he also didn’t want to be dishonest by only explaining the parts he did like. Moreover, he didn’t see why his opinion mattered or why Koutarou had even asked. Did he want to go there now? Why didn’t he just ask that?
So instead of answering, he’d just given his boyfriend a blank look and shrugged. Luckily, Koutarou knew him well enough to not be offended, had just turned the question to Kuroo, who’d just said, “I like it,” and why hadn’t Kenma said that, too? Such a headache.
Now it was two in the morning; his boyfriends were all asleep in various clusters of limbs on their huge bed, and Kenma was wide awake stewing over how annoying communication was.
The more he thought about it, the stupider it seemed - why did he always have to think of different things to say when, realistically, he only had to cycle through a couple different phrases depending on the situation?
With that in mind, he drew up a list. A list of phrases he’d use, that could ostensibly cover any situation, so he didn’t have to waste his time actually conversing. He was a fucking genius, it would be like dialogue options in a videogame. Life was about to be so much better.
- Yeah / yep / yes
- No / nah
- Please
- Thanks
- Maybe / ehh
- What do you mean
- I don’t know
- I’m good
- I don’t like it
- I like it
If any of them had to be replaced for whatever reason, it would be easy enough. Frowning, he decided greetings wouldn’t be counted - it was easy enough to say hello or good morning.
Satisfied and ready to use his own personal cheat code to make his life easier, Kenma drifted off to sleep - but not before wiggling through the pile of limbs to find Keiji and tuck himself under his boyfriend’s long, heavy arm. He received a sleepy kiss on the back of his neck for his efforts.
The next morning, Kenma woke up the latest, per usual. The bed was rumpled and cold, and someone had pushed a pillow against Kenma’s chest for him to cuddle. He’d slept in just boxers, so he pulled a big t-shirt (Kuro’s) out of their shared closet and wandered out of the bedroom with sleep-slow movements.
It was their summer break; Koutarou and Kuro would graduate college next year, and Kenma and Keiji would graduate the year after that.
The kitchen was empty. Checking the schedule on the fridge, Kenma saw that Kuro and Koutarou had work today. They had taken summer jobs coaching at some kids’ volleyball camp - all the time exercising in the sun meant Kuro and Koutarou were more tan and ripped than ever, something both Keiji and Kenma were enjoying.
An unfortunate side effect, however, was the horrible sunglasses tan they both had now. Kenma didn’t let a day go by without making fun of them for it.
Keiji, for his part, had gotten a part-time job at a plant store - the evidence of which lined every windowsill in their house, in the form of droopy plants he was trying to rehabilitate.
“Good morning, Kenma,” Keiji said quietly from the living room, where he was sitting with his laptop by the window. Kenma checked the coffee pot - empty, the bastards - and went to the living room instead.
Keiji smiled when Kenma came around the corner, a soft morning thing that never failed to make Kenma’s heart flutter. He didn’t even have to remove Keiji’s laptop for him - he set it aside himself, and welcomed Kenma into his lap.
Kenma sat facing Keiji, and tucked his whole body as close as it could fit, with his chin on his boyfriend’s shoulder. Keiji’s hands came up to smooth over his hips, dipping under his shirt to scratch lightly at his back. Kenma sighed happily.
“I thought you were going to start waking up earlier, with us?” Keiji asked, not ceasing his hand movements.
Kenma caught himself in his reply, remembering his new list. “Ehh,” he said, into Keiji’s shirt.
“Did you want me to wake you up next time?”
Okay, so, Kenma had said he wanted to start getting up earlier but also - it sounded horrible. But if he did, he’d get to see his other two boyfriends in the morning before they went to work.
“Hm, yeah. Please.”
Keiji laughed. “All right, I can do that. Tetsurou was going to today, but Koutarou and I convinced him not to. He had it planned out, including an impressive array of breakfast foods.”
Kenma whined - breakfast foods were his favorite. But he didn’t want to ruin his new communication plan so early in its experimental phase by asking Keiji to make something for him.
“Please?” he asked, not specifying.
“Hmm?” Keiji asked, which...yeah, fair.
“Pleeeeease,” Kenma tried again, pulling back to point to the kitchen.
“You are such a gremlin,” Keiji said with a smile, but shifted to get up all the same. “Do you expect me to carry you too?” He was obviously joking, but he should really have known by now that Kenma loved to be carried.
“Yes.”
Keiji rolled his eyes, but bent so Kenma could scramble onto his back to be carried into the kitchen.
A half an hour later, he was stuffing his face with french toast and sharing sugar-sweet kisses with his boyfriend. So far, operation game dialogue was a success.
“What are your plans for the day?” Keiji asked a little while later, while Kenma was helping him unload the dishwasher. Kenma hated the dishwasher. If he’d had his way, they would all just eat off of paper towels - an idea that had been vehemently rejected by everyone else on the grounds of waste, money, and basic decency.
“I dunno,” Kenma replied, barely managing to not drop the five cups he was juggling towards the cabinet.
“All right, well, I was thinking of dropping off lunch for the other two before work. Want to come?”
“Yeah.” Fuck, this was so easy. Why hadn’t he thought of this before? He’d always been a little quiet, but he’d never truly committed to being uncommunicative (especially since he was acutely aware of how important communication was in a poly relationship like theirs).
“Want to hang out at my work, too?” The place Keiji worked sold plants and stickers and pots and tea. They also had a nice little sitting area with comfy couches and cats that wandered around. Kenma had made a habit of hanging out there after Keiji started, mostly because he got bored at home alone.
“No thanks,” he replied. Today felt like a videogame day, and he had a stream scheduled for later anyway.
Wait, fuck. The stream. Kenma scowled. His channel was how he made money, and he couldn’t very well do that if he was silent the whole time. Or maybe - no, there was no way. He’d have to suspend his system for those times.
That was okay, though. He usually didn’t find that very draining anyway, since he mostly just babbled at the camera for hours while he played whatever game. Yeah, that would be fine.
If Keiji noticed he was quiet all through the trip to the middle school their boyfriends worked at, he didn’t mention it. If anyone would be understanding of silence, it would be him.
Koutarou and Kuro were another story, though.
“Aww, thanks guys!” Koutarou yelled (ick) while he pulled his shirt back on to cover his glistening, tanned muscles (sad).
“Did you make it?” Kuro asked. Kenma shook his head, and Keiji explained where they picked it up from.
“We were gonna go to the konbini, but this is way better,” Koutarou said around a mouthful of ramen. It was probably too warm a meal for the weather, but neither complained.
“Did you guys get food, too?” Kuro asked.
“No,” Kenma said, at the same time as Keiji.
“You have work later, right?” It would be nice if Koutarou would finish swallowing before speaking, but Kenma couldn’t very well say that right now.
“Yes, I do.” Keiji checked his watch. “Actually, I need to leave now. Kenma, are you staying?” Kenma nodded and also shrugged, which made sense to him but apparently didn’t to the others based on the looks they gave him.
Keiji collected three goodbye kisses, and walked off back towards the station.
“Koutarou and I were thinking it would be fun to see that movie later,” Kuro said, nudging Koutarou. He nodded enthusiastically, and they looked to Kenma for confirmation.
Ah, shit. Which phrase fit best? “I like it,” he said, even though it wasn’t a perfect match. It seemed good enough, though.
“Think we can convince Keiji?” Their boyfriend was not a big fan of action movies, even though the other three liked them a lot.
“Maybe,” Kenma replied.
“Hey, Kenma, are you okay? You seem kinda...weird,” Koutarou asked. Kuro’s eyebrows drew together and he looked between them.
“Yeah, you’re being kinda quiet,” he added.
“Yeah,” Kenma said, adding a smile to the end to seem genuine. Well, it was genuine. But he didn’t want the others to worry.
“You sure?” Kuro asked, looking dubious.
“Yep.”
“Uh, okay? Well, we’ve gotta get back but thanks for the food! We’ll letcha know when we’re on our way back, okay?”
“I like it,” Kenma said, and fuck, maybe he should replace it with “Okay.” Was “okay” close enough to “yes?” He decided it was, but it was already too late - his boyfriends were looking at him with half-confusion and half-concern.
It wasn’t that weird of a reply, Kenma thought, but didn’t dwell on it. His system was still working, even if it made him a little weirder than normal.
“Love ya,” Koutarou said, and Kuroo echoed it, each dropping a kiss on his head goodbye.
Oh shit, oh fuck. Suddenly too stressed about the fact that he’d forgotten to add I love you to the list, Kenma just spun on his heel and left. By the time he was on the subway home, he realized just how stupid it had been not to just say it back. He’d try to fix it tonight, if he remembered.
It was kind of weird, babbling on and on for his stream after having been so reticent all day. But he did it, talking endlessly about his current Borderlands playthrough.
They asked about his boyfriends, as always, and Kenma was happy to deliver.
“Mm no, I don’t have a favorite. Shitty question.”
“Uhhhh...I’m not answering that.” He blushed, though, a fact that his viewers didn’t miss.
“That would be Koutarou. He’s always up for weird food challenges,” he said, dying in Bonehead’s camp for the third time that night.
“Probably not, since it’s illegal to marry more than one person.” But that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about it, even though they’d only been together for a year.
“Yeah, I’ll tell them. Goodnight guys, thanks for watching.”
And then it was over, and he’d spent far too much energy talking, and he was looking forward to not saying more than his list of dialogue options for the rest of the night.
Baebo: movie?? Home in 5
Kenma smiled at the text. Did his rules apply to texting? He didn’t know. Not that this text necessarily required a response, but he typed out a quick yes before tossing his phone aside and going to the closet.
He should probably get out of the habit of streaming without pants on, just in case he ever had to get up for some reason, but that day was not today. Or anytime soon, probably.
“Okay, here’s the plan. We bring Keiji a change of clothes and show up at his work when he’s done and go straight to the movie from there so he can’t argue. Eh? Eh? Good idea, right?”
“Yeah,” Kenma said, and tried not to feel guilty about the way Kuro’s face fell just a little at his lack of enthusiasm. Kenma gave him a thumbs up to make up for it, but he could tell it didn’t quite work.
“Oh, good, you’re ready,” Koutarou said, coming out of the bedroom in a sweatshirt and jeans. “You excited?”
Kenma was - they’d been looking forward to this movie for months, ever since the trailer came out. “Yeah,” he said, and tried to inject more energy into his voice than he had with Kuro.
“Good!”
Kuro’s eyes lingered on Kenma a little while longer, assessing, but neither of them said another word.
Keiji was not impressed with their plan. “I trusted you,” he muttered to Kenma, a few paces behind the other two on the sidewalk.
Kenma smirked. “What do you mean?” he asked, glad to be able to use another option from his dialogue list.
Keiji pouted, a sight Kenma loved endlessly. “You’ve betrayed me and I won’t forget it.” Well, that was melodramatic. Kenma smiled wider.
“What do you mean?” he asked again, starting to have fun.
“You know exactly what I mean. You’re all lucky I love you.”
“Yeah we are,” Kuro said, turning around quickly and lunging at Keiji, who let out a startled yelp. Kuro wrapped Keiji in his arms and twirled him in a quick circle, much to the delight of everyone but Keiji, who kept a careful frown on his face the whole time. Only when Kuro set him back down did he give in and laugh, eyes crinkling in joy.
Despite his reluctance, it didn’t seem like Keiji hated the movie. He spent the whole thing muttering plot and character inconsistencies to Kenma.
Halfway through the movie, Kuro turned to him. “You’re being weird,” he whispered.
Kenma froze. “What do you mean?”
Kuro frowned. “I don’t know. You’re just being weird. You sure you’re good?”
“Yeah,” Kenma said with a smile, going so far as to tilt his head in an innocent expression. It was all like an elaborate prank, an inside joke with himself, but he didn’t want it to negatively impact his boyfriends. It was unfortunate that Kuro noticed at all, but people often failed to realize just how perceptive his snarky boyfriend could be.
“I’m good,” he whispered, and slid his hand into Kuro’s. They held hands the whole rest of the movie.
A year ago, Kuro might have reacted differently. Before Kenma put time and effort into making sure his boyfriends knew how special they were to him, Kuro might have spiraled into overthinking and self-deprecation - but not now.
Now, he knew that he could trust Kenma to tell them if he had a problem - and if he said he was fine, Kuro would believe him no matter how suspicious he acted. That was part of what he loved about his boyfriends, the way they were all understanding enough to allow him his eccentricities without judgment or insecurity. He squeezed Kuro’s hand in his own.
They went out for drinks after, because two of his boyfriends were incurable extroverts and thought it had been too long since they’d gone out. Kenma felt good, confident that his new communication style would continue to work, and let himself soak in the feeling of relief and love that surrounded him.
Kenma should have known it wouldn’t last. Nothing could stay good for long, and he’d been tempting fate with his new dialogue experiment. Try as his boyfriends might, nobody was perfect. And if Kenma had just gotten over himself, learned to ignore his conversation anxiety and just speak, maybe none of this would have happened.
Maybe he wouldn’t be sitting here, in the ER at two in the morning, watching his boyfriends cry at his bedside while his eyes slipped closed and everything faded to black. His last thought before he lost consciousness was that he hadn’t fixed his list, he hadn’t added I love you, so he hadn’t been able to say it one last time. And now it was too late.
The sound of beeping, like every cliche hospital story, trickled into his awareness before anything else. Suddenly, Kenma was panicking, his heart sending the machine racing as he opened his eyes.
There they were. His idiots, his beautiful fucking idiots that landed him in the ER, were asleep on top of each other in uncomfortable looking chairs.
His first emotion was relief, that they’d stayed. The second was anger that he was here at all, and the third was guilt. Crushing guilt that he tried to ignore. Okay, well, it technically wasn’t completely their fault. It was at least fifty percent (...probably higher) his own fault.
It happened like this: Koutarou ordered a round of fruity cocktails, Kenma’s dialogue list included nothing about his allergies, so he downed it without asking if it had kiwi in it, and then he collapsed on the floor of the bar as his throat closed from anaphylactic shock and his boyfriends scrambled to call emergency services. Kenma spent the ambulance ride trying to ignore his boyfriends, yelling at each other and crying in turns. (Also, Kuro accidentally laughed a lot because that was his reaction to bad stuff happening sometimes).
He’d seen it wrong - they all looked asleep, but now that his heart rate monitor was going crazy, he saw that one of them was actually awake.
“Wanna tell me what that was about?” Kuro asked, looking one part pissed, two parts tired, and one part afraid.
Kenma felt his eyes well up. Who was he joking; it was all his fault. He could try to blame his boyfriends as much as he wanted, but at the end of the day, it was his allergy and his stubbornness that prevented him from asking what he knew he should have asked.
He started crying for real, not even trying to answer Kuro’s question. Instantly, the anger on Kuro’s face faded. He stood and came to Kenma’s bedside, and took his hand in his own. The other reached up to cup Kenma’s face gently and thumb away his tears.
“Babe, I’m not mad at you. I was scared, and I’m still confused. I won’t yell again, though. I’m sorry. I just - I don’t get it. You’re usually good about that stuff, did you just forget?”
Kenma shook his head, feeling miserable. He still didn’t want to respond. How had one day of dialogue experimenting gone so bad so fast? He pulled a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and handed it to Kuro.
Kuro looked even more confused, but he smoothed out the paper to read the list Kenma had written.
“What is this?” he asked quietly.
“I was tired of talking,” Kenma wailed, abandoning his experiment. “Talking is so hard,” he could barely talk around the wobble of his jaw, “And stressful, and I just wanted a break.”
Kuro’s eyes softened. So soft. No anger. “Baby, you could have just said so. We all know you don’t like to talk that much.”
“I knowwwww,” Kenma moaned. He tried to pull his face out of Kuro’s gentle hand, but Kuro followed him. The other two were awake now, looking frumpy and grumpy and tired and generally like they’d had an unpleasant night in those uncomfortable hospital chairs.
Morning light streamed through the window - they must have slept here.
“Kenmaaaaaa, send a fucking text next time,” Koutarou whined, helping himself to the open space on Kenma’s bed and curling his larger body around him, smoothing a hand over his hair. It was loving, and tender, in a way that didn’t quite match the fire in his voice.
“Hmm. I have to agree. I can appreciate the planning and the impulse, but I think there are times when communication is necessary and deadly allergies fall into that category,” Keiji said, ever calm.
Kenma hiccupped and started crying again, mad at himself for this now as well as the fact that they were here at all. But then he was laughing, tears still streaming down his face, because only Kozume Kenma would end up in the hospital because he tried to make his life more like a video game.
He was discharged that morning and given new epipens (along with a lecture about keeping them with him at all times). The embarrassment of the whole situation was so complete, Kenma was ready to put it all behind him forever. He wasn’t that lucky.
When they got home, Keiji typed up and printed a decorative little note. He stuck it to the fridge with a magnet, with strict instructions to Kenma that he use it whenever he needed to.
The note, in elegant script with a soft floral background, read:
I’m going nonverbal. Don’t let me eat Kiwis. Love, Kenma.