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Kei doesn't understand the appeal of clubbing. Why some enjoy the feeling of a hundred or so sweaty strangers dancing tightly packed together in an enclosed place with blaring music and bright, flashy lights, Kei will never know. Of course, there is alcohol, so he supposes it isn’t all for naught. But he would still much rather be sitting at home in his apartment, reading a good novel or sipping tea while watching an episode of his new favorite crime drama. The best he can do here is order a glass of whiskey and claim the table closest to the corner of the room, where everything is the slightest bit less loud and overwhelming.
He sighs, already drained, as he scans the crowd before him, swarming the dance floor and the small area surrounding the bar. He’s lucky he and Tadashi had arrived earlier, as it seems the rush is just starting to pick up. He still isn’t quite sure why he had agreed to come, but his best friend had told him, Tsukki, it’ll be fun, you’ll see! and Kei had given in simply to put an end to the repeated pestering and prodding.
Kei’s eyes wander until they land on Tadashi himself and he huffs out a quiet laugh. In the time between their first year at Karasuno High and now at 23, Tadashi has grown and grown both physically and mentally, and it still astonishes Kei that the man he knows now is the same as the boy who had once been so nervous and unsure all those years ago. Whereas being extroverted and talking to others had not necessarily been his strongest suit in highschool, Tadashi is now a pro at social interaction. So much it’s almost scary.
Right now, Kei can see a small clump of clubgoers not too far away speaking to him, and of course, Tadashi is laughing and flashing them his most charming smile. Kei watches as one of the women tugs on his arm and leads him eagerly onto the dance floor. Tadashi, you little rascal.
Just before his best friend disappears into the crowd, he turns to wave at Kei, and Kei offers him a thumbs up, putting on his best look of fond exasperation for Tadashi’s antics. The woman nudges him, and he follows her through the crowd until Kei can no longer see him. He returns his attention to the room’s other occupants and realizes just how packed the place is.
Damn, if Kei is planning to survive this, he’s going to need another drink.
He pretends he hasn’t told himself this already tonight and makes his way to the bar, dodging incoming human traffic as best he can. He buys his third— or was it fourth— no, it was definitely third— old fashioned and makes the perilous return journey to his table, shielding his glass with one of his hands. He re-situates himself and observes disinterestedly as the lights cycle through a dozen different colors. He takes a sip as his gaze drifts to the far side of the club, and catches on something. No, someone.
Now, Kei isn’t at all the type of person to go out to a bar or a club purely to make heart eyes at strangers from more than twenty-five feet across a room, but he’s damn close to doing so.
The man he’s just seen is tall— not as tall as Kei, but there’s definitely no more than a few inches difference, if that. He’s got dark hair and broad shoulders, accentuated by what Kei can make out as a high-end suit. He is socializing with a group of similarly dressed men, a cocktail in one hand, leaning against the wall on his side of the room. Kei isn’t sure why he’s so drawn to him. His vision is kind of hazy in the dim of the club, and he can’t make out much. But Kei watches the man as he speaks to his companions, gesturing to them and cracking a joke, Kei thinks, since the other men around him seem to have been overtaken by a fit of laughter.
The conversation seems to gain an electric charge every time the man is speaking. He commands the attention of the people around him, controlling the atmosphere of their interactions effortlessly. It’s addictive to watch, if Kei is being honest.
He sighs internally. Now, there are two big problems comprising his predicament. To start off, Kei is not the type of person to make the first move. He’s more often been the subject of awkward highschool confessions, and even more awkward public approaches by strangers, asking for his number. He can’t imagine being the one to initiate contact. Secondly, he is almost certain that this insanely attractive man must already have someone. There’s no way somebody so captivating would be single, right?
He silently mourns his loss and tells himself— at least you can look at him, right? Just like the art on the walls of the city museum. Look, but don’t touch. Such a shame .
After what feels like a while, Kei finds himself still tracing the man’s actions, watching as he sheds his suit jacket and places it over the back of a chair, rolling his sleeves up to just below his elbows. As the man begins his departure from his cluster of cohorts, he looks up, then around, and then directly at Kei, who hasn’t stopped staring.
Shit. Kei curses himself and looks down hastily, busying himself by concentrating on his fingers and picking at his nails. He prays the man hadn’t caught him looking. God, that would be embarrassing. His heart is beating fast, his face feels hot, and he dares not to move. What if he saw? What if he thinks Kei is a total creep? What if he wants to laugh at him and mock him for his pathetic pining? Every thought sends a new wave of dread through his body.
Kei is this close to standing and making a beeline for the bathrooms when he hears a voice.
“Hey there, Glasses.”
Fuck.
Kei looks up and there he is.
This close, Kei is able to better observe him. He doesn’t look upset, thank the Gods. His dark hair sticks up on one side, while the other hangs lopsidedly over one of his eyes. Kei wonders what kind of ridiculously intricate black magic he could have performed to get it to stay that way. When he shifts his gaze, he is caught off guard by the honey golden of the man’s irises. Kei hesitates as those eyes drink him in. The man’s eyes are calculating, and he looks as if he is waiting for something. He’s definitely familiar.
Kei isn’t sure he’s quite in his right mind, and he’s sure as hell going to blame his sudden epiphany on the indefinite number of drinks he’s had tonight— but if he didn’t know better, Kei would tell you that at present, Kuroo Tetsurou was standing less than three feet away from him in the corner of a crowded club in downtown Sendai.
But this is if Kei didn’t know better, and Kei knows better. Or at least he thinks he does. But as the man’s face contorts into a teasing expression he’d recognize anywhere, Kei knows this couldn’t be anyone but.
“Someone pinch me,” Kei breathes to no one in particular. Whoops. Whiskey: one, Kei: zero.
Kuroo’s smile widens and he throws his head back, laughing that stupidly loud, infectiously obnoxious laugh that Kei recalls from all the way back in highschool. Kei watches him and bites his lip to hold back a laugh of his own because what are the chances?
“I'm flattered you think you’re dreaming,” Kuroo fucking Tetsurou fucking smirks at Kei and he’s afraid he’ll melt.
And since Kei doesn’t know how to respond to such a comment maturely, and since Kei is— as much as he hates to admit it— maybe more than a little bit tipsy at the moment, he wrinkles his nose in a childish display and raises an eyebrow at Kuroo.
“I was thinking more along the lines of a nightmare, Kuroo-san.”
Kei is a dirty, dirty liar.
At this, Kuroo smiles again, brushing off Kei’s jab, just as he always has, and of course it’s that devilishly handsome Cheshire cat grin of his. God, how didn’t Kei realize it was him? His eyes crinkle up at the edges, and shit, have Kuroo’s eyes always done that when he smiles? Kei tries to dig into his memories of training camp his first year, or those of their game against Nekoma at nationals, but his mind is too fuzzy to piece together a conclusive answer. He shakes his head a little to snap back into the moment and finds Kuroo looking at him again.
“You’re a joy to speak with, as always. Seems nothing has changed.”
Oh but it has , Kei thinks. Because I was just ogling you across the room for the past thirty minutes and wow, how did you become even more handsome than the last time I saw you? How did you manage to become even more beautiful, when I recall being wholly convinced you were the most gorgeous person I’d ever laid eyes on back when I was fifteen and still unsure? How the hell did you do that? And… And how have you retained the same fucking rolled-out-of-bed hairstyle you had seven — no, eight? Eight years ago — and how do you make it look so good?
Kei’s mouth is dry. “Glad to know I haven’t lost my touch just yet,” he quips, and reaches for his drink, only to realize it’s empty. The ice is beginning to melt at the bottom of his glass, and Kei sets it back down on the table beside him in resignation, silently cursing himself because, wow Kei, that must have looked stupid. Maybe Kuroo will just pretend he didn’t see. Then they’ll discuss their lives since highschool for a couple more minutes, and Kuroo will leave, and Kei can go get another drink and try to locate wherever the hell Tadashi slipped off to. What Kuroo says next had not even crossed Kei’s mind as a possibility.
Kuroo eyes the sad, empty glass at the table, then looks back at Kei, those bright eyes full of mirth and faux pity.
“Can I buy you a drink, Tsukki?”
Now, Kei’s immediate mental response is, oh my God, Kuroo is asking to buy me a drink. The second thought- maybe I’ve already had a bit much, maybe I should stop before I really start embarrassing myself. But— and thought three- Oh my God, Kuroo is asking to buy me a drink.
And how can Kei refuse Kuroo? With his warm amber eyes and dark hair and lazy smirk, standing so close to Kei in the corner of this stuffy club, now leaning his elbow on the fucking table like some hotshot straight out of a designer fashion magazine. Which is how Kei ends up doing a second take, for an amount of time he very well knows is longer than socially acceptable, at the suit that Kuroo is wearing like it was tailored specifically to him— and who is Kei kidding? It probably was.
Sometime in the past few months, Shouyou had rambled on and on to Kei after he’d gone to visit Kozume, Nekoma’s old setter, in Tokyo, and he had told Kei all about Kozume’s career as a CEO and as a streamer. And because God knows Shouyou can’t get through a retelling without multiple detours, Kei was informed that Lev Haiba, that freakishly tall middle blocker, has gone into the modelling industry. Fukunaga Shouhei, one of their wing spikers, had become a comedian, and Kuroo now works in the Sports Promotion Division of the JVA, which Kei can tell, just from looking at the man in front of him, most certainly pays well.
“Oh— you don’t have to, I can buy my own drinks.” Kei can feel his cheeks heating up under Kuroo’s stare.
“Aw, come on. It’s been forever, let me cover you. It’s really no big deal.”
And maybe it’s the low, smooth cadence of his voice, or maybe it’s the way his golden eyes seem to sparkle in the lowlighting, or maybe it’s just because Kei knows that one drink is definitely not going to pose an issue for Kuroo’s bank account, but whatever the reason, Kei gives in, smiles politely, and thanks Kuroo before watching him head off for the bar.
It still hasn’t fully registered to Kei that he’s just reconvened with Kuroo Tetsurou, completely out of the blue, due to such a coincidence as seeing each other from across the room in a random club in Sendai , though Kuroo lives in Tokyo. Kei will have to ask him about that later, when he isn’t still so shocked. Of all people, Kuroo. It might be funny, if Kei wasn’t sure his heartbeat had sped up as soon as he heard the sound of that voice less than five minutes ago. How utterly sardonic of fate, to institute a reunion between Kei and his former, well— object of affection, almost half a decade after they’d last been in contact.
Since Kei’s first year of highschool, when Kuroo had insisted his way into Kei’s life with impromptu blocking practice and later stubbornly refused to remove himself from Kei’s inner circle, Kei had grown to care for him. Granted he had, at the time, been more of a pain in the ass, another dedication to keep up with, than anything else, Kei had allowed himself to get closer to the Nekoma third year. They sent emails back and forth for a while, and through Kuroo’s words and the occasional meetup with he, Bokuto, and Akaashi, Kei had found himself falling for the stupid, goofy-haired, and even goofier-hearted boy.
Once Kuroo graduated and moved on to college, he was much busier with classes, and consequently had less time to keep up a friendship with a certain sharp-tongued middle blocker all the way in Miyagi. Kei didn’t blame him, and was happy for him, even. Kuroo seemed to know where he wanted to go in life and that was fine by Kei, so he forced himself to supress all the strange fluttery feelings he had once gotten from their conversations. They still talked occasionally, but not nearly to the same degree as before. Kei was fine with that. He really was.
Kei was less fine when he himself graduated from highschool, and boy did he now understand the stress Kuroo had been under due to his studies. Their scarce digital conveyance became even scarcer throughout that year, until they had both ceased to initiate communication.
It wasn’t either of their faults, Kei thinks. Neither was to blame, they had both become so involved in other responsibilities that they had fallen out. No grudges were held, but now that Kei is pondering the topic, and now that he’s just seen Kuroo again, he realizes that he’d never quite managed to stomp out the butterflies in his stomach that took flight whenever the other man was around.
Stupid, Kei thinks. He’s been blushing like he’s a teenager all over again.
He’s snapped out of his whirlwind of thoughts when he spots Kuroo approaching him, an old-fashioned in one hand, a strawberry daiquiri in the other, issuing ‘ pardon me’s’, and ‘ excuse me’s’ , as he shuffles past the inhabitants of the dance floor. What a dork . Kei quickly composes himself. Kuroo strolls right up to him and extends the whiskey for him to take.
“For you, Moonshine ,” He chuckles, and Kei thinks yet again— What a fucking dork. He accepts the drink from Kuroo before peering up at him.
“God, that was positively awful, Kuroo-san.” He takes a swig of the cocktail and fixes Kuroo with his most unimpressed stare.
“Ouch,” Kuroo makes an overdramatic grasp at the fabric over his heart. “You wound me, Tsukki. I happen to think it’s quite a clever nickname.”
“That makes one of us.”
“So cruel..” Kuroo sips his daiquiri mock-sulkily before grinning up at Kei a moment later. “I’ve missed you. How long has it been? Four years? Five?”
Kei’s heart does a somersault at the admission. Kuroo had missed him? What was he to do with this information? Of course Kei had missed Kuroo as well, but he would never confess the fact so freely. He had forgotten how honest this man could be.
Instead of offering a verbal reply, Kei allows a small smile to display itself on his lips. He knows Kuroo will take it to mean the same as he’d said. He has always been the best at reading the intent behind Kei’s actions.
“How’s life been treating you?” He studies Kei quizzically, looking him up and down, and then in the eyes, and Kei’s breath catches. He breaks eye contact by looking down at his drink and swishing it in its glass, the ice making barely audible clinking sounds under the volume of the music playing.
“I’ve been good. Thank you for asking.” Kuroo is still staring in expectation, so Kei continues. “I work at the Sendai City Museum,” he supplies, “and I play for the Frogs.”
Kuroo raises his eyebrows. “‘M not surprised, Tsukki. I always knew you had it in you.” He reaches over and punches Kei’s arm playfully, grinning at him once again. God, Kei isn’t sure if he can keep staring at Kuroo’s smile or else he might start to experience heart palpitations. But as much as Kei won’t say it aloud, he too is proud of himself for making the Sendai team and he’s quite happy with the life he’s made for himself.
“You aren’t doing too shabby yourself, or so I’ve heard. Mr. Bigshot Sports Promoter.” Kei watches as Kuroo’s mouth falls open.
“Now where could you have possibly heard that?”
“I mean, I am a part of the V-League, Kuroo. But if you must know, Hinata Shouyou has a tendency to run his mouth.” Kuroo laughs and his shoulders shake. Kei finds himself snickering as well.
“Ah, Kenma must’ve told him. How is Shrimpy? And the rest of your old teammates? Do you keep up with each other?”
They fall into an easy conversation, discussing work, their mutual friends and acquaintances, and even memories of their highschool years. Kei likes to watch Kuroo speak. He’s one of those people that talks with his whole body, and Kei, tipsy as he may be as he takes a few more swallows from his glass, is transfixed. His eyes follow every flick of Kuroo’s wrist as he details a JVA conference he has to attend this week, which is the whole reason he’s in Sendai in the first place, every pointing motion as he explains the specifics of his duties as a promoter, every curl of his lips into a fond smile when he tells Kei about a YouTube video Kenma had posted a few days ago, a team reunion with all of Nekoma. Neither of them mention their falling out.
After a while, both Kei’s and Kuroo’s glasses have been emptied and Kei has gradually begun to laugh openly at the other man’s remarks. He supposes the amount of alcohol he’s consumed, coupled with his becoming reaccustomed to Kuroo’s presence has made him looser, but he can worry about the implications of that another time. Now, Kuroo is rising from his seat and reaching out to Kei.
“Will you dance with me?” He looks so charming like this, his lopsided smirk and messy hair, and his eyes that bore deep into Kei’s, who is gaping at him, quite evidently not expecting the question.
“Huh? What— why?” He stammers, feeling his palms grow sweaty.
Kuroo shrugs. “Looks like fun, is all. Don’t be so uptight, Tsukki.”
How can he be so casual about it? Kei curses his nerves for getting the better of him. If Kuroo makes it seem like it’s no big deal, that is exactly what Kei is going to do too. It’s just a dance, after all.
“Okay, yeah, sure. I’ll dance with you,” His heart races as he says it, but he doesn’t get a moment to recover because he’s taken Kuroo’s hand, and the man is pulling Kei out of his seat and over to the dancefloor before he can get another word out.
Kuroo guides Kei through the sea of people, gently tugging on his wrist, and Kei is all too aware of Kuroo’s warm, calloused hand on his skin. He lets himself be led to the less dense outskirts of the mass, and Kuroo stops so that they’re standing maybe two feet away from each other. He doesn’t let go of Kei.
Shit, Kei doesn’t know how to do this. What does Kuroo even expect? Does he want to dance separately? Like, next to each other or something? Or does he want Kei to touch him? Normally, he wouldn’t be so skittish, but can you really blame him? This is the Kuroo Tetsurou, and Kei is still under his spell, even after so many years.
Kei’s concerns are temporarily pushed to the back of his mind when his eyes meet Kuroo’s and he spies a glimmer of warm affection bubbling up within those pools of honey. It’s a look Kei finds himself at the mercy of. And when Kuroo utilizes his already firm grasp on Kei’s hand to draw him closer, Kei most certainly does not complain.
The music is pulsing from the speakers, sending vibrations through Kei’s body, and the lights are still shifting colors above them. From bright cerulean to deep purple to a dark magenta, and Kei is fixated on how the lights dance over Kuroo’s strong features, painting him with color, so much so that Kei wants to reach out and run his fingers over his sharp jawline, or the veins in his neck, or card through that unfairly attractive hair of his. The sight actually makes Kei kind of dizzy, to be honest. He closes his eyes to try and ground himself.
He opens them a moment later, and Kuroo has his head cocked to the side, staring at him, looking adorably concerned. His mouth moves and Kei strains to try and make out his words over the music. Kuroo seems to catch on to Kei’s struggle to hear and brings the hand not holding Kei’s down to his waist, and Kei has to remember how to breathe because Kuroo takes a step closer and now they’re less than a foot apart. Kuroo is warm, impossibly so, and his hand is strong as he guides Kei, and wow, Kei thinks he might just drop dead right here and now.
Kuroo leans over Kei’s shoulder and Kei can feel his breath on his ear. “You alright, Tsukki?” His voice, this close, sends a shiver down Kei’s spine, and he turns to murmur a quick ‘ Mhm, ‘m fine,’ and for some reason, Kuroo doesn’t reclaim the distance between them, just nods and remains in Kei’s personal space. For some reason, Kei doesn’t mind.
He decides to be bold. What’s he got to lose anyway? He detaches himself from Kuroo’s hold on his hand and brings his arms up, wrapping them around Kuroo’s neck. He looks a little surprised, but Kei is almost sure he imagined it, because he blinks and Kuroo’s back to his signature smirk. But there’s something tender in his gaze that Kei catches when the lights turn a shade of saffron and Kuroo’s eyes glow like embers, that makes him feel all warm and tingly, and he can’t help the laugh that climbs his throat and bursts out in a rather un-Kei-like way. He’s immediately embarrassed, but Kuroo is staring at him like he’s hung the stars in the sky, and Kei feels even more self-conscious.
“Stop that.” He furrows his eyebrows and juts out his bottom lip. Kuroo just seems to brighten, and Kei can’t look at him like this so he averts his gaze, opting to instead fascinate himself with the smooth silk of Kuroo’s tie, which he loosened earlier.
“Sorry, it’s not my fault you’re gorgeous.”
Wait— did Kei hear that right? Him? Gorgeous? That was insanely ironic. If anyone should be called gorgeous, it’s the man in front of him. The way his eyes shine, how he holds Kei so firmly yet delicately, and how soft his hair feels when Kei plays with the ends at the nape of his neck. All of Kuroo is unequivocally bewitching, but Kei doesn’t know how to tell him. He looks back up and hopes his eyes say it all.
At this moment, Kei feels drawn to Kuroo. Like his magnetic field is pulling poor Kei closer and closer, and by now he has accepted that it cannot be helped. He uses his grip on Kuroo’s neck to close the gap between them, so that their foreheads are touching, and Kuroo slides his hands to the small of Kei’s back. Kei feels the air of Kuroo’s shaky exhale on his lips, and all he wants is to drag him into a kiss. He almost does, but Kuroo looks hesitant, worried even.
“Tsukki...” Shit. Did Kei screw up?
“I’m— Fuck, did you not want—? I thought that—”
Kuroo is quick to cut him off. “No, no. I do— I promise I do, really. It’s just,” He looks conflicted. “Tsukki. Kei, you’re drunk right now, you aren’t thinking straight. It’s late and you’ve had a lot to drink and I don’t want you to do something you might end up regretting. It’s not like I don’t want to. God, I haven’t been able to keep my eyes off of you the whole night. I swear, I just— I don’t wanna take advantage of you.”
And wow, the fear drains from Kei instantly. He isn’t even upset. He looks at Kuroo, slightly amused. This man is such a fucking dork and Kei can’t believe it. It’s so ridiculous he almost bursts out laughing again. Kuroo is painfully endearing, and Kei still wants to kiss him, kiss the concern right off of his pretty mouth, smooth out the wrinkle between his eyebrows, the tension in his muscles that Kei can feel in his neck.
“Wha— why are you smiling?” Kuroo questions. Kei unwinds his arms and pushes Kuroo gently away from him.
“ Tetsurou, ” he hums, “Will you walk me home?” He watches Kuroo’s cheeks grow pink, and Kei has to bite back another giggle. Kuroo visibly swallows and it’s fucking cute how flustered he gets. “Is that a yes or a no?”
“Uh— Um yeah, of course. Of course, Tsukki.” Kuroo rubs the back of his neck. “I’ll go pay for the tab. I’ll uh, I’ll be right back, yeah?”
Kei nods and Kuroo retreats toward the bar once again. Kei just needs to find Tadashi and let him know he’s headed back to his apartment. He moves along the edge of the crowd until he spots his friend, dancing extremely close to the girl from earlier. Kei walks up behind him and taps him on the shoulder. Tadashi jumps and turns around, eyes widened in surprise. When he sees Kei, he smiles sheepishly.
“Tsukki! What’s up?” His voice is loud, and cheerful as always. Kei looks between him and the girl, and raises an eyebrow teasingly. The freckled man laughs.
“I just wanted to let you know I’m heading out,” Kei explains.
“Ooooh, you meet someone?” His friend winks at him. “Plans for the night?”
“Oh, shut up, it’s not like that.” Tadashi just grins at him. “I ran into Kuroo, from Nekoma. He’s going to walk me back.”
He appears to contemplate for a moment. “Oh, yeah, Kuroo! That’s cool, tell him I said hi?”
“Mhm.” Kei waves and turns to go find the man in question.
“Oh, and Tsukki!” Tadashi calls, “Don’t do anything I wouldn't do!” He winks at him. Kei rolls his eyes and gives him the finger, which only makes Tadashi cackle. “See you later!”
“Bye, Yamaguchi.”
Sometimes, Kei swears that Tadashi came into his life purely to torture him.
When he meets back up with Kuroo, he takes Kei’s hand and leads him to the exit. Once they get outside, Kei instantly feels a little more sober. He takes a couple deep breaths to clear his head and tries to will away the faint ringing in his ears. He and Kuroo keep up a light conversation, and Kei relishes in the sound of his voice unobstructed by the club’s noise.
They talk about mundane things, which allows Kei to focus on Kuroo significantly more than he focuses on the topic of discussion, which has wandered to the new display he’s been tasked with putting together at the museum. He explains a couple details, and answers Kuroo’s questions. Kuroo looks and sounds like he’s genuinely interested in Kei’s boring ass Egyptology exhibit, and Kei finds it incredibly sweet. It takes all of Kei’s willpower not to take him through multiple detours just so that he can spend more time in Kuroo’s presence.
When they finally reach his street, Kei drags Kuroo up the stairs of his apartment complex and down the hallway of the third floor until they stand in front of Kei’s door. The harsh white glow of the LED lighting overhead hurts Kei’s eyes as he retrieves his room key from his jacket pocket. He turns it in the lock and the door clicks open. Kuroo is quiet.
Kei turns to him again, only to find Kuroo is watching him. How he manages to look handsome even under these shitty fluorescents will forever remain a mystery. He opens his mouth to speak, but Kei beats him to it. He doesn’t know what possesses him, but he does know that if he doesn’t get to feel Kuroo’s lips on his in the next twenty seconds, he might just die.
“Can I— would it be alright if I kissed you now?” Kei breathes out, crossing into Kuroo’s space and gazing directly into his molten gold eyes. He catches a glimpse of something quite warm, very eager, and Kuroo’s eyelids flutter as he shifts his attention to Kei’s lips. His eyebrows furrow again, which Kei knows by now signals that Kuroo is deep in thought, likely having some kind of internal conflict.
Kei lifts his hand and gently cups the warm skin of Kuroo’s jaw. “I’m not drunk, you know.”
This earns him a small nod, but Kuroo still does not meet his eyes.
“Kuroo-san,”
“Drop the honorific, Kei.”
The blonde can feel a flush rising from his shoulders to the tips of his ears, and he has to clear his throat before continuing. “Kuroo—”
“You can call me Tetsurou, you know.”
Oh. Oh. And that’s the last fucking straw if Kei is being completely honest. He leans in, angling Kuroo’s face upwards ever-so-slightly, takes a shaky breath, and erases the last couple shreds of distance between them.
Kuroo is tense at first, but it’s like Kei flips a switch to eliminate all of his worries when he tangles his fingers in the back of Kuroo’s hair. In response, Kuroo kisses him back, strong arms snaking their way around Kei’s waist again, just as they had less than an hour ago, fingertips tickling along the seam of his shirt. Kei relaxes, closing his eyes and letting himself sink into Kuroo. He can taste the strawberry of that asinine fruity drink on Kuroo’s lips, which are soft and warm and everything Kei has been anticipating. Kei’s glasses bump against Kuroo’s cheek, startling Kei into letting out a small, surprised squeak. Kuroo chuckles against his mouth and reaches up to remove the glasses.
Once they’re safely tucked into Kuroo’s pocket, he relocates his ministrations to Kei’s jaw, kissing him softly in succession down to his chin, then even further, running down his neck, mapping out the the stretch of his collarbone. It’s nothing rough, Kei notices. It’s soft, light, almost reverent, and Kei both loves and hates Kuroo for it. He drags Kuroo back up by the hair, smoothing over his scalp with his nails, planting kisses on the corners of his mouth, and Kuroo just can’t seem to stop smiling.
“What?” Kei mumbles, squinting back at him, for lack of glasses.
“Nothin’.” Yet his expression doesn’t falter. “I just— I missed you a lot. When we, y’know, stopped talking or whatever.” His hair is ruffled, his lips kiss-swollen, and Kei has never seen a sight more surreal. He can’t help the wave of guilt that washes over him, because really, Kei was at least ninety percent sure he’d been the one to assume radio silence first.
Well, Kei decides, there’s nothing he can do to take back his past mistakes. His only option now is to make sure he doesn’t repeat them. “Mm.” Kei trails his thumb over Kuroo’s cheekbone. “I missed you too.” He lets himself smile, and Kuroo sighs; it’s a sound of finality. Kei hears and a wobbly laugh escapes from his throat.
Kuroo hauls Kei into a tight hug. Kei squeezes him back, grasping the collar of his shirt like Kuroo is going to slip away at any second. Burying his face in Kuroo’s neck, inhaling the sweet scent of his cologne mixed with the faintest trace of strawberry alcohol. They stay like this a few moments, and it is Kei who breaks the quiet.
“You’re here all week right?” He asks, “For your conference?” His words are muffled by the skin of Kuroo’s neck.
Kuroo hums. “Yeah, yeah, I am. Why? Would you miss me if I went back to Tokyo?”
“Shut up, you moron,” Kei giggles. Yes, Tsukishima Kei honest to God, fucking giggles. Whatever the world is coming to at this moment is, frankly, no concern of Kei’s. He’ll giggle if he damn well pleases. He’s been hoping since highschool for this moment— a moment where he’d be this close to Kuroo, where Kuroo would return his feelings, where Kuroo would hold him and kiss him and rub circles into his back. Kei is hit with the realization of how little his affinity for the man in front of him has faded throughout the past years.
If Kei is being truthful, it feels like they were never really apart. The way they fell back into their easy routine of conversation and banter back at the club, Kei thinks, just proves his theory.
“Can I see you again while you’re here?” He braces himself to be rejected. After all, he’s sure Kuroo is busy with important JVA-related duties, and probably won’t have much time.
He can practically hear Kuroo’s smirk. “Hmm… Let me see if I can make any openings. I’m a very busy man, Tsukki.”
Kei kicks him in the shin.
(Softly, of course.)
Kuroo yelps. “What was that for?!” He’s levelled with a halfhearted glare from Kei, whose eyes won’t stop glittering with affection, no matter how hard he tries not to let it show.
He takes Kei’s hands in his, lifting them up and brushing his lips over each of Kei’s knuckles. “Of course you can see me again.”
His tone reminds Kei of a muted sunrise. Pretty, pale colors, soft against the canvas of the sky. Full of impending warmth, of a fresh day, of flower fields and strawberry pastries and maybe, if Kei is lucky, a coffee date with a certain lazy-smirked, messy-haired individual. Kuroo’s words are like a sunrise, because they mark the end of a long, dark night.
Kei has never been more relieved to glimpse the first hint of morning.
He smiles, content. “You still have my number?” Kuroo nods.
“It’s late, get some rest,” He chides. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Mm. You rest, too. You have that conference in the morning.”
“Will do,” Kuroo drawls, satiating Kei with a small grin and another nod. He steps up to Kei, who has just opened the door to his apartment and is standing on the threshold.
Kuroo kisses him once more, and it’s just as sugary sweet as their kiss a few moments ago. It’s shorter though, and Kei regrets pulling away early. He has to tell himself he’s seeing Kuroo tomorrow, that he’s not going to disappear again. That’s okay. Kei has waited years for this. He can wait another twelve hours.
“Goodnight, Tetsurou,” He murmurs, about to shut the door.
Kuroo isn’t moving, instead he’s holding out his hand. “Forgetting something?” Kei squints to see— Oh. He reaches over to pluck the glasses out of Kuroo’s palm. He knows his face is red.
“Thanks, you dork. Goodnight now, get back to the hotel safely.”
Kuroo flashes him a final evangelical smile.
“Goodnight, Moonshine.”