Chapter Text
"Why do you keep doing this?" Kenma sighs, carefully wiping the blood off the cut on Kuroo's jawline. "There are other ways to have fun, you know."
They’re sitting in Kenma’s room, the first lights of dawn filtering through the gaps in the curtains, as Kenma tends to Kuroo after a night of his best friend being stupid without him.
"Ohoho? Like what, Kenma?" Kuroo asks, arching an eyebrow. "Like holing up in your room and playing games til 5am?"
Kenma glares. "Yes." He presses the antiseptic wipe a little harder on the cut and enjoys Kuroo's yelp. "Now stop whining."
They sit in amicable silence, Kenma nursing Kuroo's wounds while Kuroo hisses through the pain. This isn’t the first time Kenma wonders how Kuroo is Nekoma’s captain; the idiot always ends up hurting himself somehow when he’s out and about, only to show up at Kenma’s house hours later in secret to get patched up before he returns home. Kenma wonders if he should start charging consultation fees at this point.
After a while of bearing the stinging pain of antiseptic, Kuroo speaks up. "Listen, Kenma." Kenma stills for a second. Oh no. He knows that tone; Kuroo's got a lecture for him. "You gotta learn to live a little, you know."
Kenma snorts. "What, like you?" He peels the plastic film off the medical plaster and tilts Kuroo's chin to the side. "I don't see what's so enjoyable about trespassing onto private property just to yell stuff from the rooftop with Bokuto. Can't you just do it in your room?"
The pair of dumbasses had actually trespassed into the tallest building they could find at the halfway point between both their homes, which turned out to be a luxurious, private condominium, and went on the roof to do some… ritual? Of yelling out your fears and wishes at exactly 11:59pm. “It’s tradition,” Kuroo had said with pride at his bedroom door, before he started wincing in pain and begging for Kenma’s help. Kenma had half a mind to just lock him out.
Kuroo waits for Kenma to smooth out the plaster on his face, before looking Kenma in the eye and flicking him on the forehead. "It's called love, idiot. And having fun with the person you like." Kuroo gives him a dopey grin. "It's these kinda things that make living more fun."
Kenma scrunches his nose in distaste. "Sounds troublesome." He packs up the first aid kit and raises a sardonic eyebrow. "Besides, aren't you a little inexperienced to talk about these things? You haven't even told Bokuto you like him yet."
The way Kuroo reddens instantly and starts sputtering is hilarious. "That's— That's different, oi! I told you I'm working on it!" When Kenma just laughs, he leans back on his hands and grumbles. "Besides, sometimes I think it's because I'm inexperienced that it’s more fun. You know?"
Kenma just stares.
Kuroo sighs. "One day, Kenma, you'll learn."
He raises another eyebrow at that. "What, how to trip on your own feet and fall while running from apartment security?"
“Ha ha, very funny,” Kuroo sneers and pokes him on the nose. "I meant how to live, dumbass. It's never truly fun unless you're a little bit scared.” He scratches his head. “Or in my case, a lot scared."
Kenma stares at him again, both in confusion and disbelief, before he eventually mutters, "That doesn't make sense," because it really doesn't.
Besides, Kenma knows how to have fun. His definition of fun is just a little different from others’, that's all. Even if he's now realising that he's not really quite sure what it is, exactly. But just because it doesn't involve breaking the law, or doing ridiculous things to get someone's attention, or being together with someone you like, it's still fun.
Right?
Okay, so maybe he doesn't exactly know what makes living fun for him. Pure, blindingly wholesome fun, where everything in your being feels lighter and happier, the way Kuroo has described it to him many times before. The closest Kenma understands the feeling is when he's playing games, but he's never felt like— how exactly did Kuroo call it? Right, like he's on top of the world.
All he knows is this: life, no matter how it's lived, is never fun when you're scared.
—
The moment Johzenji enters the gym, Kenma knows they're trouble.
It's like watching a bunch of Taketoras, Kuroos and Bokutos in one team: as soon as they step foot into Shinzen’s gym for their week-long summer camp, all of them start wolf-whistling at the size of the place, shoving each other and ruffling hairs and high-fiving and nudging one another at the sides. They're ogling and laughing and checking some people out, making so much noise that the other schools end up stopping whatever they're doing to stare.
It's a bunch of playboys, Kenma thinks. Playboys and partygoers. There's a bit of jostling in the middle of the team, low mutters of eyyy and wooo and high fives being made. The manager is flustered as she tries to keep them quiet, bowing hurriedly to nearby players and hissing at her team to shut up. Some of the boys stop laughing, calming themselves down to just a snicker or a smirk.
They’re bright, Kenma thinks, like a midday sun: loud and yellow and impossible to ignore. He hides in the shade of Kuroo’s tall and solid back, afraid to go near.
And then he appears: the captain, close-cropped hair dyed blond and slicked back, number 1 emblazoned on his yellow-gold jersey, sleeves rolled up, a smirk on his lips as he scans the area.
"Johzenji," he shouts, raising two finger guns in the air, "Let's party!"
Oh yes, Kenma thinks amidst all the whooping and cheering from the Johzenji team. Definitely trouble.
—
Trouble doesn't even begin to capture it.
Johzenji is chaos, and Kenma can't keep up. They have no formation, or at least a convoluted one as far as Kenma can tell; he keeps trying to suss out their techniques, see the patterns in their playstyle, but the only thing Kenma's sure of so far into their first set is that they have no pattern. They attack on a whim, favouring attacks from the back row, but even then it's unpredictable; every time Kenma thinks they'd spike from behind, one of them races up to the front to strike.
He's never been so engrossed in a game before.
He tosses a high ball to Fukunaga; as expected, Fukunaga scores them a point with a fast strike that whizzes past their libero.
"Whoaaaa! That was so cool!" the Johzenji captain shouts, brown eyes wide with awe. He throws back his head and laughs and it catches Kenma off-guard; you don't usually laugh when you're losing. "This is so fun!"
Fun. Whatever Kenma was expecting, it wasn't fun.
Sure, volleyball can be fun sometimes; most times it's just something he does because he's already doing it. But volleyball when they're several points behind the other team? Kenma finds it difficult to find anything enjoyable about that, especially if you’re the captain. The excitement would come after, maybe, if you manage to overcome the setbacks and win back the game. But to find it fun even as you’re losing?
Other teams would probably find him incompetent, or stupid, even. But the more Kenma watches him, observes the way he hypes up every single good move by his teammates, cheers them on after every mistake and laughs it off, pats their back, shouts at them to try again, bro!, he realises that it’s entirely possible that Johzenji’s captain isn’t the stupid one here. If anything, his unshakeable high spirits only make him—
Dangerous, Kenma realises, watching the margin between their points get smaller and smaller. He blinks once and resets his focus, keeps his gold eyes trained on the blond captain for the rest of the match, and doesn't stop staring when Johzenji steals the first set from Nekoma.
—
Nekoma wins in the end, after they take back the next two sets. But it was a long and arduous match that has left Kenma shaken, his mind whirring with all the strategies he's had to improvise to counter Johzenji's— well, lack thereof.
They're like the mini boss in video games who turn out to have a bigger, more badass second form — one that shuffles its attacks based on RNG, leaving you with no way to strategise against it. Kenma nearly empties his water bottle on his first drink, his mental exhaustion making him thirstier than usual. Now that the game's over, he just wants to take a long, long shower, then curl up with a video game and unwind alone.
"Kenma!" Of course, he's dragged away before any of that can happen. He directs his most annoyed glare at Kuroo, who just smirks down at him and pulls him by the back of his shirt collar. "You're not getting away that easily."
"Why do I have to go along with this," Kenma mutters, feet dragging across the slip-resistant wood as Kuroo brings him towards— the Johzenji team. Oh no.
"Oh yes ," Kuroo says with a smirk, reading his mind. Kenma grumbles, already knowing what's going to happen: Kuroo's going to talk to the team captain, try to rile him up, and have Kenma inconspicuously analyse the boy from the sides. He's sly like that; but the fact that he's doing this at all tells Kenma that Kuroo was also unnerved by their playstyle during the match and wants to find out what's their deal.
"Hey! Good game!" Kuroo calls out in what Kenma dubs his con artist voice, all faux pleasantry meant to conceal his conniving side. Kenma inwardly sighs when the Johzenji captain perks up at the shout and turns away from his teammates, all wide smiles and delighted eyes as he jogs over to them. It's a trap, Kenma wants to warn, but who's he kidding? He wants to study him, too.
"Thanks bro, y'all were killer! Let’s do that again!" he greets in return, and this close Kenma can count the number of piercings he has: two black ear studs out of several pierced holes, and a silver tongue piercing. It makes him look like a gangster, Kenma thinks, but the delighted, genuine eyes paint a different picture that he can't quite understand yet.
The two captains shake hands, Kuroo charming him with a beguiling smile but exerting just a touch too much pressure on the other boy's grip. To his credit, the Johzenji captain just blinks in confusion, before a wide smirk spreads on his lips and he tightens his grip too. Kenma stares at the handshake, watches the veins pop up in both hands, and yawns.
"Kuroo," his best friend introduces himself, a pleasant smile still plastered on his face as if the both of them can't see right through it. "Kuroo Tetsurou." Irritation level: 7 out of 10, Kenma notes, hearing his voice. And steadily rising.
The Johzenji captain barks a loud laugh. "Terushima Yuuji," he drawls, pinning Kuroo with a devious smirk that inexplicably has Kenma slightly flushed in the cheeks. Kenma isn't one to be easily charmed, but that— that was good enough to rival Kuroo's. Which means...
Irritation level: 10 out of 10, confirmed. Kuroo looks like he's a second away from punching the dude.
"Hey hey heyyyy!" a voice interrupts from all the way across the hall before Kuroo can start embarrassing himself. "Teruuuuu!"
Kenma sighs. Now there's no way he's going to escape to the showers alone.
"'Teru'?" Kuroo echoes in confusion, watching Terushima let go of Kuroo's hand to run towards Bokuto, who's also running towards him.
"Hoo hooooo! Bokutoooooo!" He launches himself at Bokuto who immediately opens his arms wide for him, almost slapping Akaashi in the face. Thankfully, Akaashi calmly sidesteps out of impact at the last second; as always, Kenma is impressed by his level 999 SPD stat.
He knows Kuroo is dying of curiosity, despite the way they're casually sauntering their way over like a pair of house cats towards a new toy. Sure enough, the moment they're close to the hugging pair Kuroo asks, in a mildly interested tone that Kenma knows is anything but: "Friend of yours, Bo?"
"Yep! We met at that event a few weeks ago, the one I told you about!" Bokuto has an arm tight around Yuuji's waist, holding him up as Yuuji's legs are wrapped around Bokuto's torso. Both of them are facing Kuroo with matching grins, creating an unintentionally intimate picture that has Kuroo's temple vein throbbing at a pace of ten times per second. Kenma can practically hear Kuroo's thoughts in his mind right now: You didn't tell me about him.
"That's so cute," Kuroo cooes instead, voice honey sweet. "Right, Kenma?" Kenma groans inwardly and exchanges a look with Akaashi, who just rolls his eyes in agreement. For all that Kuroo is a smart, observant captain, he's pretty stupid when it comes to his best bro Bokuto.
Kenma doesn't care for this, but he knows he has to get Kuroo out of there before he says something stupid. Akaashi seems to have the same idea too, because Bokuto's pouting at whatever he's saying and putting Teru down. Kenma tugs at the hem of Kuroo's top and gestures towards the bench; Kuroo gives a passing glance at Bokuto before he nods.
"You're so stupid," Kenma says the moment they're out of earshot from the other three. Kuroo snorts.
"And you're blunt as ever." A pause. " And you're right, as usual."
Kenma doesn't say anything. Doesn't need to. He grabs their water bottles and passes the heavier one to Kuroo, who drains it in one go. Kenma rubs the side of his face with his towel.
"So whatcha think of him?" Cool, deceptively casual Kuroo. Whatever Kenma says next will influence his opinion, so he takes his time to gather his thoughts.
Eventually, he settles on three words: "Wild, talented. Unpredictable." Gold eyes land on the boy in question, currently talking to Akaashi with big, wide arm gestures. Akaashi doesn't seem affected — his face is as blank and stoic as ever — but he also shows none of the tells that he has when he's annoyed, so that counts for something.
"... contagious," Kenma adds.
Kuroo scrunches his nose. "What, like a disease?"
A roll of the eyes. "You know what I mean." And he does — Kenma sees the way Kuroo's eyes aren't on Teru, but on someone else.
They stand there in silence, both watching the people around them, before Kuroo opens his mouth.
"I know you don't believe me," he starts, which makes Kenma raise an eyebrow, "but maybe he's not so bad." He clears his throat at Kenma's disbelieving stare. "He shouldn't be, if Bo's his friend."
Kenma tilts his face to look up at him. Kuroo just sighs, eyes on the owl in question. "Kou—" oh, he's using his special nickname for Bokuto now, "—has a natural affinity for reading a person's character. He gravitates towards genuine people. I don't think he's even aware of it himself, but it's true."
Bokuto's calling Kuroo over now, two hands cupped around his mouth going Tetsuuuuu , and Kuroo smiles. "I trust his intuition. If he's friends with you, then you must have a good heart." He turns to ruffle Kenma's hair with his free hand, lifting it away before Kenma can slap it, and chuckles. "Be right back."
"Please, take your time," Kenma grumbles, smoothing his hair out with a hand but only inevitably making it worse. He gives a dissatisfied grunt and turns on his heel, making his way, finally, to the blessed showers.
"Kenma!" a voice calls from behind him.
Terushima. Of course. Who else here wouldn't already have known not to approach Kenma when he's alone? Only Terushima — and to be honest, he looks like the kind to try anyway even if he does know.
"Heyyy, Kenmaaa," he calls again when he gives no response. Kenma isn't phased by the use of his first name; he doesn't care for the concept of formality. But if Terushima thinks he's riling him up by using it...
He turns around. "Yuuji," he returns evenly. Yuuji raises his brows and grins even wider. Crap. Maybe that was a mistake. Whatever. Time to leave.
"Kenmaaa," Yuuji drawls, going up to him and hooking his arm around Kenma's shoulders. Kenma freezes, eyes wide, every hair on his skin prickling with panic.
"I saw you checking me out the whole game," Yuuji purrs, and— huh?
Everything in Kenma halts and resets. He blinks at Yuuji, slow and lost. "What?"
"Come on, your eyes were following me the entire time… Like what you see?" He smirks, his face only mere inches away from Kenma's.
"Huh?" Kenma was marking him! Not checking him out! "I wasn't—"
"Y'know, I think you're really interesting." Kenma's heart skips a beat, maybe two— actually, he's pretty sure he's going into cardiac arrest.
Because as much as Kenma doesn't like to be perceived by many, he still wants to be perceived favourably. And being called interesting, especially by someone as wildly charming and extroverted as Yuuji, is just— Well.
His heart revives and starts going into overdrive. "Um," he blinks rapidly, trying to push Yuuji away from him, but Yuuji doesn't budge, his body all taut muscle holding firm. He should say something, right? Say something! "Um, what?" No, that's so lame!
Yuuji laughs. It's bright and ringing, like the rest of him. "Ya know, you struck me as just the shy type at first. Tiny, quiet, scared," he teases, brown eyes alight with mirth as he looks down at Kenma. "But looking closer I thought, nah, you're much cooler than that! First it was the dyed hair, you see? If you were trying to blend in you wouldn't have dyed it blond." He raises the hand that's not around Kenma's shoulders to play with the tips of Kenma's hair, lifting a lock to run his thumb through the ends, and oh. That does things — horrible, incredible, unfamiliar things inside of Kenma.
It's terrifying.
"And second..." He taps a finger on Kenma's nose. "You don't stand out on the court, but you're actually the brains, aren't ya? You dictate the play, read the game. I saw the gears working in your head, ya know. And I gotta say—"
"Oi!"
Kuroo. Of course.
Kenma closes his eyes. He doesn't know if it's out of relief or disappointment or both, but he takes a shuddering breath anyway. He's overwhelmed.
And now he'll never know what Yuuji was going to say next, because here comes Kuroo stalking towards them, shoulders pulled back, bringing him to his fullest height. Oh god. "Get your hands off Kenma."
Yuuji actually does as he's asked, making Kenma blink in surprise, but he keeps the sly smirk on his lips as he looks up at Kuroo. They have a staredown that's absolutely mortifying for Kenma; he has to stop this before other people start noticing.
Thankfully, his rescue comes in the form of Akaashi.
"Please stop embarrassing yourselves, Kuroo-san, Terushima-kun," he says coolly, appearing next to Kuroo with a confused Bokuto in tow. "It's only been two hours into training camp."
"But he's the one who—"
"I didn't do anything—"
"Do you guys wanna practise with us?" That one's Bokuto. Kenma can't decide if he's being obtuse on purpose to diffuse the tensions between his two bros, or if he really is that dense.
He doesn't stay long enough to find out, though. With a grateful nod at Akaashi, who just nods back and sends him away with a discreet wave of the hand, Kenma sprints to the furthest shower he can find.
—
It's just before dinner when he runs into Yuuji again.
Well, maybe run's not the best word to use, seeing as Kenma's sitting on a hill furthest away from the gym, but Yuuji still manages to find him. Kenma can't tell if it's on purpose.
"Fancy seeing you here," Yuuji calls from afar, looking up at Kenma, who's sitting high on the grassy slope above him. In the warm light of sunset, Yuuji glows: his blond hair and yellow Johzenji jacket paint him a bright gold, but most of all it is his glinting, fiery eyes that make Kenma feel like he’s squinting at the sun.
Kenma flinches, eyes wide in fear, before he quickly turns back to the Switch in his hands, blonde hair curtaining his face away from Yuuji. He prays that Yuuji would go away, but when has the universe ever listened to his pleas to be left alone? Instead, he watches as Yuuji lowers himself down to sit next to him.
"Sorry," Yuuji says unexpectedly, dropping his volume. Kenma's fingers freeze on the buttons mid-game. "Guess I shouldn't have scared you like that, huh!"
That's... surprisingly nice of him to say. Flustered, Kenma says nothing in return. The only sound in the air is the sound of mashing buttons, his swift fingers flying dexterously across the console. Yuuji stays quiet, and Kenma breathes.
"You're really good at that," Yuuji comments after a while. Kenma's character in the side scroller is on a 200-roll combo, whizzing past every obstacle with ease. "It's fun to watch you play!"
Kenma's character falls off the platform.
"Oh shit," Yuuji laughs, oblivious to the loud thundering of Kenma's heart. "Sorry! Did I distract you?"
He's strange, Kenma thinks. Strange in the way that he's not really like what Kenma had expected him to be, which is loud and spontaneous and crazy all the time, flashing lights and obnoxious noise. But this Yuuji seems a bit different from the Yuuji who pissed Kuroo off just now, who jumped on Bokuto and yelled together with him and wrestled with his teammates for the ball. This Yuuji is ... tamer, he muses, quieter but just as sparkling with energy. Kenma tilts his head forward, using the gap in his hair to peek at Yuuji's smile, before glancing back down towards his Switch.
Still, Kenma doesn't respond. He boots up another game, a loud, vibrant one with a pop tune opening, and conspicuously increases the volume. Yuuji tilts his head back and laughs, undeterred.
They spend the next half an hour like this, Kenma playing and Yuuji watching and giving commentary that Kenma never responds to, and looking back, well—
It wasn't the worst way to spend his time.
—
At dinner, Kenma finds himself sitting across from Lev. It must be punishment, Kenma thinks, watching Lev light up at Kenma's presence and start talking a mile a minute, mouth still disgustingly full. A cursory glance at Kuroo next to him, who has an eyebrow raised sardonically, tells him that yes, it is.
Kenma's picking at his egg roll, Lev's incomprehensible rambling rolling over him like white noise, when Kuroo elbows him in the side. When Kenma glares up at him he just nods over to Lev, whose wide unblinking eyes are staring at him expectantly for an answer.
Oh. "Um. What?" Kenma asks sheepishly, torn between embarrassment and reluctance.
Fortunately, Lev is the sort of person who would only be more than happy to repeat himself. "I asked you if you know Johzenji's captain, because I saw you hugging him after the match!"
"Wha— I wasn't hugging him!" Oh god shut up stupid Lev! Now everyone on Nekoma's table is staring at him, confused but intrigued. Beside him, Kuroo calmly bites into a piece of chicken, a sign Kenma knows to mean that he wasn't going to help Kenma. Jerk.
"I wasn't hugging him," Kenma says again, voice more even this time. "He's just really... friendly. I didn't know him before this." The word friendly rolls all wrong on his tongue; it doesn't sit right with him, doesn't accurately capture the playful teasing that Yuuji was doing. Friendly is what you describe nice, kind-hearted people, like Kai or Inuoka. Friendly is not a sly, dangerous grin, or an aura of cocky confidence, or close-cropped hair with tongue piercings and electric sparks and—
"Personality aside, he's really strong on the court," Yaku says to the group, unknowingly saving Kenma from his near collapse into anxiety. The court. Yes. Talk about his play, Kenma can do that. "He leads them well, too. I can see why they made him captain out of all the second years."
"Wait, he's a second year?" Shibayama asks. Thank you, Shibayama. Kenma was wondering the same thing, but he couldn't possibly ask because then fuckers like Kuroo would either smirk down at him or tease him to no end about it. In fact, he can feel Kuroo's eyes on him now, gauging his every miniscule micro-reaction. Kenma, while no grandmaster of stoicism (that title rightfully goes to Akaashi), keeps his face perfectly blank and believably bored.
"He is!" Lev says, happy to know something of use in the discussion. "Or, well, they all are, I think! I heard the coaches talking about how they're all second-years who reformed the team. Coach said that even though they're not like the old Johzenji that beat Shiratorizawa," Kenma and Kuroo both raise their eyebrows, "we shouldn't underestimate this new team either."
"Yeah, clearly we know that," Kuroo scoffs, remembering the match from this afternoon. When he speaks again, mouth set and arms crossed, he's using his captain voice, and everyone looks at him with rapt attention — Kenma (reluctantly) included. "Alright guys, we need to rethink our strategy when it comes to Johzenji. We've always been good at reading team plays, but Johzenji's a new challenge for us: they're unpredictable. They're unpredictable and strong, which is why we need to get better at reading them and thinking on our feet."
Kenma thinks about the way Johzenji plays, all impulse and no forethought. He wonders how strong one must be to play based entirely on fun and still pose a sizable threat.
"They're strong individually, but we're invincible as a team. They can throw anything at us, but nothing gets by Nekoma's system. Got it?"
"Yeah!" they echo as one in the dining hall, making the other teams stop in their dinner to stare. Kenma doesn't mind it this time, though. With Nekoma, he always feels safe, secure, like they can conquer anything if they go at it together.
No one else sees it, but Kenma smiles into his drink.
—
At some point, no matter how much Kenma may secretly love Nekoma, there's only so much willpower in him before he absolutely can't stand Lev's incessant chattering, and the way he's able to keep talking even with his mouth full of fruit. Too grossed out to stay any longer, Kenma hands his dessert over to Kuroo, who takes it without question as he continues talking to Bokuto, ruffling Kenma's hair as Kenma gets up.
The outside air will do him some good. It's cooling out there compared to the smothering humidity of the school hallways, and most importantly, it's quiet. No Lev here. No Tora. No Inuoka. No Kuroo and Bokuto either. The only person he could possibly stand right now is Akaashi, his kindred spirit who — out of shared commiseration — won't talk to Kenma unless he needs to.
The rooms are probably empty right now, since everyone's still mingling about in the mess hall. Kenma switches on his game and starts walking, taking the shortcut outside the buildings so he can enjoy the night air a bit more. It's on his last round of this dungeon he's in that the game's difficulty starts to ramp up, and Kenma has to stop walking and lean against a wall to pour all his concentration on the game. The sounds of cicadas and owls fade away from his surroundings; only the sound of weapons and battle cries register in his senses as he loses himself in the thrill of battle — which is the only possible explanation for how he misses the sound of footsteps heading towards him.
"Yo, Kenma darlinggg!" Yuuji sings, slinging an arm around his shoulders as Kenma bodily flinches in shock. "Whoa! Didn't mean to scare ya!" He starts laughing, missing the way Kenma is completely red in the face right now. He feels like static, sharp and startling; Kenma wants to pull away.
"So!" Yuuji smiles, eyes still bright with laughter. "What brings you out here all alone at night? That's dangerous, you know!"
Kenma gives him a look, clearly unimpressed. "We're in school."
Yuuji throws his head back and laughs. "Right!" Like it just occurred to him. He looks down at Kenma again, who quickly looks down at his game. Yuuji's eyes are just so— magnetic, sometimes. He doesn't want to get pulled in.
"But don't you want to hang out with your friends? You're missing out on all the fun!"
Kenma sighs. "Not really." Here he goes, explaining the mythical concept of a social battery to a party boy. "I don't like to hang around people for long. It can be fun at first, but soon it gets... tiring. I just want to be alone for now."
He hopes Yuuji gets the hint with that last one, but he's either an idiot or persistent, because he ignores it. Instead, he says, "Yeah, I guess it's no fun when you're tired! I get it."
Kenma blinks in surprise. Did Yuuji just— agree with him? He was expecting the blond captain to start yelling about how fun hanging out with people is and how he doesn't understand loners like Kenma — things that Kenma’s used to hearing from all the loud, extroverted types in his life. Not... this, an easy acceptance of Kenma's words that catches him off guard.
"Then, what do you do for fun?" Yuuji asks him, face close by as he tries to make eye contact. Kenma peers at him through the gaps in his hair, searches his eyes for any sign of deception or mockery. Surprisingly, he doesn't find any — Yuuji genuinely wants to know.
He lifts the console in his hands a little before lowering it, eyes fixed on the bright screen as he plays. Yuuji lets out an oooh, moving closer—
—way too close, actually, perching his chin on Kenma's shoulder as he peers at the game in Kenma's trembling hands.
He's close. Too close. He's so close Kenma can smell the scent of his shampoo, can see the amber flickering in his wide brown eyes when he chances a glance at the face right next to his. Their breaths are intermingling, and Kenma can’t think.
"Oh, I haven't seen you play this before! Looks fun!" Yuuji says, as Kenma's character accidentally jumps off a cliff and falls to his death in an abyss. "You really like to do this, huh?"
What, die? Very much. "I— guess so, yeah." His character's respawned and ready to go, but Kenma can't move his fingers across the D-pad. He can't move at all. Yuuji has him paralysed.
Slowly, Yuuji looks up from the game. There's a shift in the air, Kenma notices; his skin prickles at the change in tension, at the way Yuuji's gleaming eyes fix on him. He moves, and suddenly Kenma finds himself trapped by Yuuji's arm on the wall next to his head, their bodies a scant few inches apart from each other.
Kenma can't breathe.
He gazes into Kenma's eyes, copper eyes pinning him with a startling intensity that leaves Kenma breathless, and grins. It's dangerous, Kenma thinks, feeling very much like prey, like Yuuji is about to swallow him whole, absorb him into his current and burn.
He wants to run. But there's something thrilling in his gaze that draws Kenma in, that magnetism from before, an electricity that lights up Yuuji's irises and makes it hard to look away. Kenma's scared, he's terrified, but somehow— he wants .
And that scares him.
"Maybe you can teach me," Yuuji says, low and deep, tilting his head as he looks down at Kenma, moonlight glinting off his piercings. Kenma stares, wide-eyed and out of depth. He should say something, or move, or—
Kenma ducks under Yuuji's arm and flees.
—
"Kenma?" Kuroo calls, before he yelps in shock as Kenma throws himself at him, burrowing into Kuroo's shirt. "Oi, Kenma! What happened? You okay?"
No, he's not, or maybe he is, he's fine but he's not he's a mess but he wants but he's scared and everything's scary and he's—
"Hey," Kuroo says softly, running calloused fingers through Kenma's hair. Kenma curls himself inwards and closes his eyes, sinking into the familiar comfort of his best friend. Kuroo is safe, is his home; everything about him is familiar ground, from the way Kuroo automatically wraps his arms around him to how he adjusts himself to make them both comfortable, Kuroo sprawled on the floor with Kenma on his lap. He takes his time to soak in the warmth radiating from Kuroo, and slowly, Kenma can feel himself breathing better again.
The good thing about Kuroo is that he knows Kenma better than anyone else in his life, and therefore knows exactly what Kenma needs in his times of distress. Right now, Kenma just wants to be close, wants to drown in the safety of Kuroo's arms around him. He doesn't want to talk, he doesn't want to hear anything from anyone; he just wants Kuroo's comforting presence and hug.
But the bad thing about Kuroo is that he knows Kenma better than anyone else in his life, and therefore knows exactly when Kenma is feeling better and can start talking about what just happened without biting Kuroo's head off. The moment Kenma sags in his arms and sighs, Kuroo wastes no time in asking, "So who do I need to beat up?"
Kenma pulls himself away from Kuroo and frowns.
"Don't give me that," Kuroo says, unfazed by the mean glare Kenma was giving him. "You throw yourself into my arms, clearly upset, and now you want to be mad at me for asking?" He flicks Kenma on the nose and leans back on his hands behind him. "Who's the asshole?"
"No one," he snaps.
Kuroo squints at him. Kenma looks away — he hates when Kuroo scrutinises him when he doesn't want to talk. It's unnerving.
"Terushima," Kuroo declares suddenly, making Kenma's head snap up. "Ha. It was him, wasn't it?"
"No," he says quickly. "It's not him."
"But it is someone." Ugh, he fell for that. Kenma huffs and drills a glare into Kuroo's forehead. Maybe if he tried hard enough, he'd be able to zap Kuroo's brain and make him forget this.
"No."
"Kenma." He sighs. "It's Terushima, isn't it?"
"It's not," Kenma says again. They lock eyes with each other, both defiant.
Kuroo's gaze is unwavering. "It is."
But so is Kenma's. "It's not."
"It is."
"It's not."
"It is."
"It's not."
"It is. And," Kuroo cuts in before Kenma can respond, "you're not sure how you feel about it."
"Huh?" Kenma deadpans, brows furrowed in confusion — at least, on the outside. Inside, he's freaking out, because how did Kuroo know?
"If you were simply scared, you would've just told me about it eventually," Kuroo explains, his face adopting that stupid look it gets when he's explaining chemistry like it's the easiest thing in the world. "I know how you get when you're afraid. But this is different." He waves his hand over Kenma as if that explains anything.
"Just spit it out," Kenma snaps instead, internally freaking out about what else Kuroo knows.
"You're overwhelmed." Kenma stares. "You're scared, but also feeling something else." This time, when Kuroo gets in his face to squint at him, Kenma grabs his face in a chokehold and pushes it away. "Ow!"
Kenma smiles as Kuroo rubs at his red cheeks, but it's quickly wiped off his face when the bastard starts to grin. "Nice try, but that just tells me one thing. Kenmaaaa," and oh god does Kenma hate it when Kuroo stretches his name out like that, looking all smug and satisfied like a cat that’s gotten the canary—
"Kenma, you're embarrassed!" Kuroo teases, wrapping an arm around him before he can run away. "What happened? Did you get your first kiss or something?" He starts leering at Kenma, who just glares balefully at him until he stops smiling. "Hey, you didn't get your first kiss, did you? You'd tell me about that, right? Kenma? Ken— OW!" He rubs at the place where Kenma had kicked him.
Too much. It’s too much.
He needs to think, he can’t think, he needs to run away — so he does.
Behind him, fading, Kuroo shouts: "You can't run away forever, Kenma!”
Well, that’s another thing Kuroo’s wrong about, because he can.