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Kenma hates it. He hates when Kuroo pretends everything is fine.
It’s not. And that’s more than okay. It’s more than okay to go through a rougher patch. What’s not okay is lying to your best friend about it. To keep telling him not to worry about it. To not laugh at one of Bokuto’s stupid joke yet still maintain you’re okay.
Only to add to that, Kuroo was about to spend a weekend all on his own, his parents being out of town and him refusing to get out, saying he has a lot of homework that he should really be doing instead of going out with friends.
Kenma, wanting to trust Kuroo about it, had asked Yaku if they really had a lot of work, maybe preparations for a big exam, anything. When the libero had told him it was one of those weekends where you’d barely have anything to do, even if you wanted to prepare for things coming only weeks later.
That’s what pushed Kenma over the edge. He had to step in. Some may argue it isn’t his place to do so, to impose things on Kuroo, but hey, like Kenma cares. It’s his best friend, and if he must sit on him and shake Kuroo to make him talk, he will.
That’s how he ends up at Kuroo’s doorstep Friday afternoon. He told his parents he’d stay at Kuroo’s place for the weekend, which he hopes will end up being the truth. If everything goes well, they’ll talk for a bit – he’d let Kuroo do most of the talking – then they’d maybe watch a movie. By the end of the weekend, Kenma hopes Kuroo would be fine, or at least willing to talk about things that aren’t fine.
He considers entering without knocking. He knows where the spare key is, and it wouldn’t be the first time he went in without announcing himself.
Instead, trying to be polite, he settles for a text, not quite trusting his voice if he were to call. If he doesn’t get an answer within ten minutes, he’ll take the key and kick Kuroo’s ass.
Kenma does his best not to sound too pushy in his message, only to tell Kuroo he’s there for him, that even if he can’t help, he’s there to only listen.
“ Stop telling me you’re okay when you’re clearly not. Tell me how you’re feeling. I want to know what’s going on in that head of yours. I’m outside. Talk to me. Please.” is what Kenma settles for. He knows he isn’t always the best with comforting, and words, but Kuroo also knows. He’s known for years and still stuck around. So, Kenma hopes the door opens in front of him of its free-will.
Exactly six minutes and thirty-seven seconds later, he hears the loud thumping of footsteps down the stairs. Another fifteen seconds and Kuroo is at the door, holding it open just enough for him to lean on the frame.
“Hey Kenma.” He seems fine. He’s put on his “okay” mask. The one he wears whenever he’s in public, whenever there are people around. Lately, he started wearing it around Kenma too, the polite smiles and nods instead of the real happiness that usually shines in his eyes, breaking his face in the brightest thing Kenma’s ever seen.
Kenma doesn’t say anything, only lifts his hand to grasp Kuroo’s, and since it doesn’t look like Kuroo will let him in anytime soon, Kenma takes the matter into his own hands and pushes his way in, pulling Kuroo along.
He brings them to Kuroo’s room. There, he lets go of the shaky hand he’d been holding to pick up sweatpants and a soft, warm hoodie. Kenma gives them to Kuroo while he puts the bag he brought for the weekend in the same corner he usually does. When he turns around, another one of Kuroo’s sweatshirts in hand, Kuroo’s changed, a puzzled look on his face. The circles beneath his eyes are more pronounced than usual, his shoulders slumped further. Still, when Kenma offers him his hand, he takes it without asking any question and lets himself be pulled by the younger boy all the way to his backyard. Barefoot, the grass is just long enough to tickle their ankles.
He takes them to the side that cannot be seen from his own house, assuring the bubble Kenma’s about to create is only for them, and his parents won’t show up even if things get heavy.
Kenma pulls Kuroo, their fingers tangled together, all the way to the wall, where there’s a rock that allows him to get just high enough to look directly into Kuroo’s eyes without tilting his head. He still doesn’t let go of the shaking hand, only brings his free one to Kuroo’s cheek. They’re both smiling, small and forced, but still smiling, the other’s presence a rooting comfort.
Kenma waits for Kuroo to say something, or at least give him time to do so before he starts asking questions if Kuroo doesn’t know where to start. He keeps his hand unmoving, grounding, and his eyes locked in beautiful, deep brown ones.
“I don’t want you to worry about me,” Kuroo finally whispers. Kenma waits for the next sentence, for a ‘but’ that never comes.
“Kuroo, that’ll make me worry even more,” Kenma replies before biting his tongue. That’s not how you comfort someone.
“I’ll always worry about you, no matter the what or why, no matter the when. Because I’ll always care about you.”
He gives Kuroo’s hand a tight squeeze. Yeah, that’s more like it.
“Now, please talk to me.”
Kuroo takes a few deep breaths before closing his eyes. He still doesn’t let go of the palm pressed against his. Then, when his breaths come and go steadily, without an ounce of shaking, he manages, “I don’t know what’s going on. I just don’t feel right. Like my body’s about to abandon me, or like my head’s about to implode. There’s just so much. ”
Even then, he doesn’t allow himself to break. He keeps his chin unquavering, his voice clear. His eyes are the only thing betraying him. They’re always the most honest part of Kuroo. He’s closed them to hide anything more than his words to be seen, but the slight flutter is enough to give it away. Kenma places Kuroo’s hand over his hip before letting go to cup fully the other’s face, to welcome the tears about to roam down his face.
“I’m tired, Kenma,” Kuroo says like it’s the most terrifying thing in the world, like no one else can know. A terrible secret. “So tired.” It shows in his irises, the pain and dread of what comes next.
“I know, love,” Kenma simply answers, when what’s truly going on in his head is Of course, you big selfless idiot. You took all the advanced classes, you’re the captain of the volleyball team, which means practices almost every day and training sessions at least three times a week, five when you find the time for it, with you giving it your all even when your body almost doesn’t follow. Plus, you offered to tutor some people in your class, all while working at the convenience store three days a week after practice because you don’t want to be a burden to your parents. You’ve been going like that for months. Of course you’re exhausted .
“I know,” he repeats while Kuroo’s silent tears make their way down his reddened cheeks. With his hands on Kuroo’s cheeks, Kenma brings his face closer to his own. Close enough to kiss the tears away. “It’ll be okay.”
Kenma wraps an arm around Kuroo’s shoulders, pushing himself to the tip of his toes to allow Kuroo to stand as much as possible while entangled with the smaller boy. “I’m right here with you.”
Kenma feels the red creep on his cheeks when he slides his fingers through Kuroo’s dark hair. He rests his palm right behind Kuroo’s ear for a few breaths before sliding it down his neck. “You are not a burden.”
He presses their foreheads together, breaths mixing in the still night. They breathe each other in, warmth spreading from every place they touch. Kenma’s hands are on fire, his face ignited by every exhale pressed to his skin.
Kuroo begins to slide to the ground, pulling Kenma along. The shorter boy settles with his back to the wall, Kuroo’s head in his lap, face lightly dipped towards Kenma’s body, resting against the fabric of his hoodie.
Kuroo’s wrapped in a ball on the ground, knees tucked in his arms, and he looks so small, so vulnerable, so fragile. Kenma’s throat tightens.
He settles his head against the wall, looks up at the stars and lets Kuroo talk.
He talks mostly in a sea of unknowable words that make little sense, like trying to explain a sensation the first time you feel it. And for Kuroo, his packed schedule is new. He had, down to the quarter hour, everything he must do, written in his notebook. Even then, it become overwhelming. Sometimes, he says, he’ll look at it and it’s like his brain refuses to allow him anything else than sleep. But then he’s unable to sleep, knowing all the stuff he should be doing.
When he’s done, Kenma’s cheeks are just as wet and red as Kuroo’s. His hand is clasped tightly over Kuroo’s chest.
“We’ve made it pretty far, you and me. We’ve been through a lot, but always together. So, next time it’s hard to get out of bed, next time you start to feel shitty, please tell me. I’m here for you, I’ll always be.”
Kuroo nods against Kenma’s thighs and lets his shoulders drop a little more.
“Kenma?” Kuroo says, gazing fondly at the stars.
Kenma hums and turns his head towards his best friend. “Yeah?”
Kuroo takes a long breath and slightly turns his head to the left, so his eyes are locked with Kenma’s. “You like me, right?”
Kenma stops breathing for a second, his whole body tenses and he starts anticipating the response to every answer he could give, with at least three scenarios for each.
“Kenma?”
Then his brain seems to register who’s asking the question. It’s Kuroo. His best friend. His life partner. He can tell him anything and it’ll be alright.
“Of course I do,” he manages to say before his voice cracks.
“Do you like or like like me?” He pauses, then bites the inside of his cheek. “‘Cause I really like like you. Have for a while now.”
Kenma lets out a breathy chuckle as he combs his fingers through Kuroo’s hair once more. The latter is still staring at him, stars reflecting in his dark eyes. There’s hope. So much hope. But also fear, uncertainty, mixed with the utmost trust in Kenma. He trusts Kenma to let him down gently if need comes. He trusts him to handle his heart no matter what.
“Kuroo, I’ve been in love with you for as long as I remember.”
“Oh.” Then again, with glossy eyes. Oh. ”
Then he’s crying again, soft and laughing against Kenma’s legs. He wipes his tears with the back of his sleeve before eyeing Kenma again, like he can’t believe what just happened. It’s a new look for Kuroo, one of pure admiration and gratefulness and fear and excitement. He still looks like he could sleep for three days straight, but the shiny eyes make up for the look.
When Kenma yawns, Kuroo is quick to say they can go back inside, that they could go sleep in his room if Kenma felt tired.
“I’m fine, I usually stay up way later than that to play video games. Oh , don’t give me that look, I always get a few hours of sleep.”
Kuroo doesn’t seem convinced.
Kenma bends down just enough to reach Kuroo’s face. He presses a long kiss to his forehead. “I promise.” When he pulls away, Kuroo’s head lifts slightly from Kenma’s thighs, as if chasing his lips. Happy to indulge, Kenma leans in again, this time pressing their lips together in a first kiss.
There are no fireworks exploding in his stomach, no butterflies threatening to get out. Only a warm feeling spreading from his chest down every parcel of his body. It feels like coming home, like being tucked in with the softest blanket, like Kenma always feels around Kuroo, only amplified.
The sun is long gone, replaced by small stars and a moon crescent. They shine around them, basking the pair in the sweetest, most delicate light.
Kuroo’s calloused, hard-working hand come to cradle Kenma’s face oh so gently, thumb grazing Kenma’s cheekbone in the most delicious arc. Kenma’s lashes flutter against the tip of Kuroo’s finger. He sighs into the kiss, pulling at Kuroo’s bottom lip with his teeth. Kuroo’s hand stills on his cheek, so Kenma does it again with a bit more insurance.
Kuroo whimpers when Kenma’s fingers tug at his black locks to pull his head back. Kenma uses that moment to leave a trail of kisses down his jaw. He absorbs every little noise Kuroo makes, every single movement that brings them closer and closer, until Kuroo’s seated with a leg tucked under him and pulling Kenma to his chest. They separate their lips to settle closer together, pressed against each other in every place possible, so close, so warm, so safe.
They stay that way for a while, wrapped in each other’s warmth and comfort. When Kenma loosens his hold, the other only holds him tighter, tucking his face in the crook of Kenma’s neck, where he plants a few kisses. After a few more minutes, Kenma can feel the content smile on both their faces
“I know I was joking earlier, but seriously,” Kenma says, staring at Kuroo’s eyes, “we’ll stay out until you’re ready. We haven’t gone stargazing in a while.”
He pulls Kuroo down onto his lap again as the other wraps his long arms around Kenma’s waist while Kenma places his hand back into his best friend’s hair.
“I’ll wait as long as you need”