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Their relationship had always been different from friendship, even when they were very young, too young to differentiate between friendship and romance and that elusive in-between. Hinata knew he and Kenma were close, for sure, probably the closest bond he had at that age, but whether they were just friends or something else was unclear– that is, to everyone except Hinata. It wasn't just a typical "I'm a boy and you're a girl so let's get married" kind of affair that was common for little kids with best friends of the opposite gender; his parents laughed at him whenever he said it, but when Hinata declared that he and Kenma-chan were in love, he meant it. The little girl with black hair and catlike amber eyes who walked by Hinata's house every day on the way to school with her older brother belonged to him, not Kozume-san, or the boys that traded Pokemon cards with her in the schoolyard, or any of her cats. When kids passing them in the hallways taunted them, singing "Kenma and Shouyou are in loooooove" as they walked hand-in-hand, Hinata didn't even bother to argue with them, even though Kenma would always blush and hide her face. They never kissed, or did any of the things that Hinata saw his parents or couples on TV do, and they didn't exactly call each other boyfriend and girlfriend, but they didn't have to ask "do you like-like me?" to know it was true. At least, Hinata knew it was true.
When Kenma was ten years old and Hinata was nine, she ran the several blocks from her house to Hinata's and knocked on his door, crying. Hinata opened the door, and his best friend fell sobbing into his arms. "Daddy says I have to move to Tokyo!" she bawled, body shaking against Hinata's. "I won't ever see you again, Shouyou-chan!" Hinata didn't even try to comfort her, as his own eyes were already filled with tears. "W-when are you moving?" was all he could stammer out.
"Next week," Kenma wailed. Hinata wiped his nose on his sleeve and held her tighter.
Even though Hinata vowed never to forget Kenma, as the years went on he found himself thinking of her less and less. They wrote letters to each other at first, but fell out of touch after only a few months, as Hinata found that he didn't know what to say to her when they weren't speaking face-to-face, and he couldn't hear her voice in the short, dull letters that she wrote. He went to middle school and made new friends, discovered his love for volleyball, and between schoolwork, practicing volleyball wherever he could, and trying to convince his friends to form a team, he had little time to think about his old best friend. By the time he reached high school, he had forgotten her completely.
Wandering through familiar streets that seemed drastically different when he was lost, Hinata couldn't help thinking that there was something uncannily familiar about the boy sitting on the bench in front of him. He had never seen the kid in his life, and it wasn't the badly-bleached hair or the puffy red jacket that rang any bells in his head, but rather, something in the way he was hunched over, intently focused on the handheld game he was playing even though it was obvious he was only trying to kill time. When the boy looked up, and Hinata saw those almond-shaped eyes, he knew exactly who he was. He wanted to blurt out, "Kenma!" and wrap his old friend in a hug, but stopped, his mouth hanging open, when he realized what had changed.
"K-Kenma? Is that-is that you?"
Kenma's eyes narrowed, then widened with recognition. "Shouyou-chan?" she asked, disbelief clear in her voice.
A million questions raced through Hinata's head, but the only thing that made it to his tongue was, "Are you a boy now?"
Kenma paled, and Hinata knew he'd screwed up, although he didn't quite know what he'd done wrong. His friend didn't answer him, but turned away, hanging her head and seeming more absorbed in her video game than before. Hinata tried desperately to amend the situation in the only way he was capable, which happened to be by barraging her with questions fired off at a mile a minute.
"I haven't seen you in so long how have you been how's Tokyo why are you here do you play volleyball too what are your friends like do you have a boyfriend w--" He was cut off by Kenma abruptly standing up, shoving her DS in her pocket. Hinata turned, and saw a tall boy with messy black hair standing in front of Kenma, wearing the same red jacket that she was.
"There you are, Kenma," the boy said, somewhat gruffly. "I've been looking all over for you."
"I'm sorry, Kuroo," Kenma said. "I got lost."
"Who's this?" Kuroo asked, finally noticing Hinata standing there, staring wide-eyed at them. He narrowed his eyes at the lettering on Hinata's shirt. "Karasuno? Have you been conversing with the enemy, Kenma?"
"Enemy?" Hinata chirped, baffled, but he trailed off when he saw the logo on Kuroo and Kenma's jackets. Nekoma High School Volleyball Club, it read. So Kenma plays for Nekoma, Hinata thought. "Kenma, why are you playing boys' volleyball?"
Kenma opened her mouth to answer, but Kuroo spoke first. "Why wouldn't he? Come on, Kenma, let's go back to the team."
Hinata's mouth still hung open in utter confusion, but as Kenma turned to walk away with Kuroo, she waved back at him. "See you soon, Shouyou," she called out, and then they were gone.
Hinata wanted to chase after them, but his legs felt rooted to the ground. What the hell just happened? he thought, but he didn't have much time to sort it out before the rest of his team was there, and he had no choice but to rejoin them on their run.
Kenma couldn't stop thinking about his encounter earlier that day. To be completely honest, he had sort of forgotten about Shouyou, but from the looks of it, his old friend had too. Shouyou didn't seem to have changed at all; he'd grown a couple of centimeters, and he played volleyball now, but other than that he was the same tiny, loud, overeager redhead that he'd been when Kenma had moved away six years ago. Kenma's head pounded as he realized how confused Shouyou must be about him; he was extremely different now than he was at age ten, and the anxiety about what Shouyou must think about the "new" Kenma grew before he could stop it. Shouyou clearly still thought he was a girl, but Kuroo had told him Kenma was a boy, and there was no doubting that that had definitely weirded his old friend out. The truth was, Kenma wasn't really either; he had come out to his family as transgender shortly after moving to Tokyo because he thought he was at the time, and though he had assimilated pretty smoothly as a boy in his new school and neighborhood, he hadn't really felt any happier being a boy than being a girl. When he started high school and learned what being agender meant, he realized fairly quickly that that was a more accurate label. He’d never really told anyone, not even Kuroo, his neighbor and best friend, and he still mentally referred to himself with ‘he’ pronouns out of habit. Seeing Shouyou again made his anxiety even worse, since Shouyou had known him before any of this gender stuff even started, and he knew Shouyou would be weirded out by it. To make matters worse, Shouyou had liked Kenma when they were younger, and at the time, Kenma had liked him back. But now? Kenma had no idea where either of them stood.
Sitting alone in the hotel room on the night before Nekoma’s practice match with Karasuno, breathing deeply and slowly in an attempt to quell the panic hovering at the edges of his brain, creeping slowly inward, he seriously considered finding Kuroo to tell him he was sick and wouldn't be able to play in the match. He really didn't want to face Shouyou again, and it wasn't like he was all that in love with volleyball anyway. Kuroo had taught him how to play, and when he'd seen Kenma's talent, he'd insisted that he play with him all through middle school and high school. Kenma was never all that interested in the sport, but Kuroo was his only friend, and playing volleyball meant he could spend time with Kuroo, even though Kenma hated the attention that came with being the setter on a high school team. Oh, he wished he could quit right then and there, but Kuroo wouldn't let him, since he was the "brain and heart" of the team and all. His heart was pounding, his chest getting tighter, it was getting harder and harder to breathe–
The door crashed open, and Kenma nearly passed out on the spot. He was gasping for air, his vision going blurry, desperate for oxygen and a release from this cold panic, when he felt someone's hand on his shoulder. He blinked rapidly, realizing that the light had been turned on in the hotel room, and Kuroo was there, gently asking if he was okay. Kenma was dimly aware of Kuroo wrapping him into a hug, taking long, slow breaths that Kenma realized he was supposed to imitate. Eventually, his breathing returned to normal, and Kuroo started idly rubbing Kenma’s back. "You alright?" he asked, his brows furrowed with worry as he looked at Kenma. Kenma nodded slowly, shifting a little in Kuroo's grip and desperately hoping Kuroo couldn't feel his binder or, worse, his breasts. Suddenly, he felt flushed with heat and fear again, and wriggled free from Kuroo's arms.
"What's wrong?" Kuroo asked, and Kenma couldn't decipher the tone of his voice.
"Nothing. Sorry," Kenma muttered, hoping that would satisfy his friend.
"Ooo-kay then, I'll leave you alone now. Feel better, doll," Kuroo said cheerfully, as he stood up and weaved through the maze of futons that blocked his way to the door.
"Don't call me that," Kenma called out, but Kuroo was already gone. Kenma sighed and rubbed his temples, wanting this stupid day to just be over already. Kuroo was always playfully teasing him like that, and though he knew Kuroo wasn't actually romantically or sexually interested in him, the insinuations always made him weirdly uncomfortable. Romance and sex in general had that effect on him, whether it be his parents asking if he’d found a boyfriend or girlfriend yet, or a sex scene on TV, or even seeing couples and PDA. He didn't actually mind non-sexual physical contact, but if it was in the context of a relationship, it made him squeamish. He wished he had the courage to tell Kuroo his true feelings, but he could never find the words. He’d never even come out to his best friend; he came out to his family as trans before meeting Kuroo, and after coming out, decided to introduce himself to all new people as a boy, so people like Kuroo didn’t even know he was biologically female. Kenma groaned and laid back on the futon, staring at the ceiling for a few minutes before pulling out his DS and playing Pokemon until he drifted off to sleep.
The referee’s whistle blew, and the practice match’s third set finally ended. After the teams lined up and bowed and slowly filed out the door of the gym, Kenma caught Hinata’s eye for the first time that day. Shouyou smiled, and before Kenma could run away his old friend was racing over to him. Kenma felt a rush of tension as he braced himself for whatever Shouyou had to say to him.
“Good game, Kenma-chan! You’re really good at volleyball!”
“Oh,” Kenma said quietly, flooded with relief. “Um. Thanks. You too.”
“Wait, really?” Shouyou seemed surprised, for some reason.
“Yeah. You, um, you work really well with that setter, um…”
“Kageyama?”
“Yeah. Him.”
Kenma bit his lip, feeling the awkwardness as a tangible thing that hung in the air, invisible to his and Hinata’s teammates, who were all crying and hugging each other. He wanted this to be over already; he wanted to go home and sit in his room in the dark and curl up in a ball and shut out the world, he wanted to be anywhere but here, talking to the guy he hadn’t seen or heard from in six years who probably–no, definitely–hated him now and any second was going to start making fun of him or questioning him or worse, spewing Bible verses or telling him that he was unnatural and scary and wrong. Shouyou isn’t like that, a part of his brain insisted, but the rest of him ignored it, because everyone knew that rationality was the enemy of anxiety and right now his anxiety was winning and he was powerless to stop it.
“Kenma? Are you okay?”
Kenma sighed, wishing that he could actually make everyone disappear, instead of just blocking them out temporarily. “Uh...yeah. I’m-I’m fine. Um, Shouyou, I think your team might be leaving?”
Shouyou laughed, and Kenma felt slightly happy in spite of himself. Shouyou was so cheerful, even more so than Kenma remembered, and his laughter had always had the power to put Kenma at ease back when they were kids. I guess that hasn’t changed, Kenma thought. Shouyou grinned.
“Yeah, I guess I’d better go. Wait, Kenma! How long are you guys going to be in town?”
Kenma shrugged. “For a couple days, I think. Why?”
“Oh, I thought we could maybe go to dinner or something. Or maybe you could come over to my house?”
Kenma froze. Shouyou gave a small smile; he seemed almost shy, for some reason.
“I mean, we don’t have to if you don’t want to, I just thought–you know, since we haven’t seen each other in so long–”
“Sure, I’ll go.”
Shouyou grinned and gave Kenma a tight hug. “Great! I can’t wait! Can you come over tomorrow night? Do you still know where I live?”
Kenma blinked, scratched his chin idly, shoved his hands in his pockets. Shouyou seemed to take that as a no.
“Oh, that’s fine. It’s been so long, that only makes sense I guess.” He skipped off, and returned with a scrap of paper and a pen. Kenma watched as he scrawled out his address and proudly held it out to Kenma like a child giving his parents a drawing he made for them. Kenma smiled a little, in spite of himself, as he took the paper and glanced at the address.
“Um... thanks, Shouyou.”
“I’m so excited!” Hinata squeaked, and ran over to where his team was gathered, about to leave. He turned around and waved energetically at Kenma, and Kenma silently wondered what the hell he was getting himself into.
The next evening, Kenma was so nervous that the only thing stopping him from calling Hinata to cancel was the fact that he didn’t have his number. His stomach was in knots, and his mind was stuck on a loop of all the possible ways this night could go wrong. As he was changing his outfit for the millionth time–too casual; too clashing; too formal, he didn’t want Shouyou to get the wrong idea; too dorky–Kuroo barged in, without knocking. Kenma thanked his lucky stars that he had already changed his shirt.
“Whatcha doing, doll?” Kuroo asked nonchalantly, oblivious to Kenma’s discomfort. “Got a hot date?”
“Um, no, I uh...I’m just having dinner with Hinata.”
“The shrimp from Karasuno?”
“Yeah, him. We, uh...we were friends when we were little. Before I moved to Tokyo.”
“Oooh, friends?” Kuroo gave a suggestive grin, wiggling an eyebrow.
“Yeah. Friends. Would you cut it out with that face?”
Kuroo pouted. “Fiiine. Well, good luck, doll! Go get some!”
“I will not be getting some!” Kenma tried to protest, but Kuroo had already sauntered out. Kenma groaned, took a last look at himself in the mirror and, swallowing down the lump in his throat, walked out of the hotel.
By the time Kenma made it to Shouyou’s house, he was so nervous and so prepared for everything to go horribly wrong that he was acting on autopilot, and as such didn’t realize he had rang the doorbell until the door opened and Shouyou’s mother was staring at him.
“Hello?” Her face was warm and friendly, but she didn’t seem to recognize him.
“Uh, hi, Hinata-san. I’m Kozume Kenma, Shouyou’s childhood friend. He invited me over.”
A smile spread across her face as she waved him in. “Oh, Kenma! It’s so good to see you! It’s been so long since I’ve heard from you, I didn’t realize you and Shouyou were still in touch!”
“Uh, well, we weren’t, but I happened to be in town and we, uh, ran into each other.” Kenma wished he could talk to her without stuttering or using filler words, but clearly it was no use. She didn’t seem to notice.
“That’s wonderful! Wow, you look so different now!” She obviously meant it as a compliment, but Kenma felt the lump in his throat rising again. Luckily, she turned from him, and called out Shouyou’s name. Moments later, he came running in, followed by his little sister, who had been a baby when Kenma moved away but was now a bright six-year old with skinny little legs and a mop of red hair.
“Hi, Natsu,” Kenma managed to stammer out before Shouyou squeezed him in a hug so tight he could barely breathe. Just when Kenma was starting to actually grow worried, Shouyou let go of him, his face flushed and beaming.
“I’m so glad you came, Kenma-chan!” he grinned, and once more, that smile made Kenma feel just a little more at ease. “Wanna go to my room?”
“Sure,” Kenma shrugged, and followed Shouyou into his bedroom. It looked exactly as Kenma had remembered it, save for a few volleyball posters plastered on the walls, the largest being of a black-haired boy in a Karasuno jersey with #10 emblazoned in white and the words “Karasuno’s Little Giant” written in big letters underneath. Shouyou grabbed his laptop from the desk and flopped down on the bed, while Kenma stood somewhat awkwardly in the doorway. What do I say to him? We haven’t talked in six years! It didn’t help how close their friendship had been when they were younger; they had been as close to a romantic couple as little kids could be, but now, Kenma wasn’t sure he’d be able to stomach that anymore. To make matters worse, there was a spare futon on the floor next to Shouyou’s bed, and Kenma didn’t think he liked the implications of that. He swallowed.
“Um, Shouyou? W-were you planning on having me sleep over?”
Shouyou looked up at him quizzically. “Why not? You said you were staying in town for a few days more, and besides, we always used to do this. Right?”
Kenma gave a small smile, trying to appear calm. “Um, yeah. Okay.”
Shouyou grinned. “Awesome! Hey, wanna watch a movie?”
Kenma shrugged. “Sure.”
Shouyou rolled onto his stomach and opened up his laptop. After a few minutes of clicking through various websites, he called Kenma over, patting the space next to him on the bed. Slightly hesitantly, Kenma sat down crosslegged next to him, and Shouyou pressed ‘play’ on the movie. It looked like some kind of animated kid’s movie, vaguely reminiscent of the ones that the two of them used to like when they were younger. It was a little strange that Shouyou was still into those kinds of movies, but Kenma wasn’t all that surprised.
The movie started playing, and while Shouyou seemed to be engrossed, Kenma was struggling to pay attention. The animation was far too cutesy for his taste, and besides, the awkwardness of the whole situation was beginning to wear down on him, and his anxiety was building with each minute that passed. This whole thing was just so weird, and it was putting him on edge. After about half an hour, Shouyou paused the movie without warning and turned to Kenma.
“Hey, is everything alright? You look like you’re staring off into space.”
“I am? Oh. Sorry.” He looked down at his hands.
“Do you not like the movie?”
“Um...no, the movie’s alright,” Kenma lied.
“Just alright? C’mon, it’s Miyazaki, your favorite! We used to love these movies!”
Kenma froze. Suddenly, all of Shouyou’s odd behavior made sense. He tried to say something, but his vocal chords didn’t seem to be working.
“D-do you not like these movies anymore, Ken-chan?” Shouyou’s voice was quiet, wavering. A part of Kenma ached a little at the sound of the old nickname. Shouyou had stopped calling him that when Kenma was eight or nine.
“No, no, it’s not that, it’s just—” Kenma sighed. “Sorry, never mind. You–you can put the movie back on if you want.”
Shouyou just stared at him with an unmistakable sadness in his round, brown eyes, and Kenma’s heart sank. “It’s okay, Ken-chan. You can say if you don’t like the movie. I won’t be upset,” he said, softly, slowly. Kenma looked down; he thought he felt tears stinging his eyes. This was a bad idea, a terrible idea, this was going to end so badly, he couldn’t stay any longer, he had to go home before Shouyou started asking him questions, he had to go home now—
“Kenma?”
“I’m sorry, Shouyou. I–I’m not like I used to be, I guess, I just–I’m sorry…” Yep, those were definitely tears. He shouldn’t have said anything, god dammit, it was just going to make it worse when the inevitable happened, because now Shouyou was going to be angry, too. What the hell is wrong with me? he mentally screamed at himself, as the tears overflowed from his eyes before he could stop them, dripping into the palms of his hands like raindrops. He froze when he felt Shouyou’s hand on his shoulder.
“I don’t think there’s anything wrong with you, Kenma. Why are you crying?”
Fuck, I said that out loud.
“You don’t have to sugar-coat it,” Kenma muttered. “I know what you’re thinking.” What was he saying? He didn’t mean to be so passive-aggressive, Shouyou was probably hating him more and more, this was such a terrible idea.
“I’m not sugar-coating anything, Kenma. I’m just confused. What’s wrong?”
Damn Shouyou for being so nice. Why couldn’t he just be honest? Or wait. Maybe he was being honest. Shouyou hadn’t changed at all, and if there was one thing Kenma had known about the old Shouyou, it was that he was always open about his feelings. Maybe Shouyou was still like that. Slowly, Kenma looked up at him. His expression was soft, his eyes round with concern. Kenma sighed.
“Nothing’s wrong, I guess. I just... don’t think we can go back to the way things were. I’m sorry.”
He tried to wipe the tears away from his eyes, but they were falling too fast. He couldn’t look at Shouyou anymore.
“Why not?” Shouyou asked softly.
“Well, uh...I’m different now. And, well, you’re not. So I don’t really think that what we had before could work now.”
Without warning, Shouyou wrapped his arms around him, and pulled him to his chest. Kenma buried his face in Shouyou’s shirt as he shook with sobs, feeling comforted in spite of himself by Hinata’s warmth. He felt Shouyou rubbing his back, the way Kuroo always did when he tried to calm Kenma down from a panic attack, but somehow, it didn’t feel as foreign and uncomfortable when Shouyou did it. He could feel Shouyou’s chest expanding with each deep breath, and he sighed. Finally, Shouyou spoke.
“I don’t have any issues with dating a boy, if that’s what you mean.”
Fuck. Was that really what Shouyou thought Kenma was worried about? He groaned, burying his head further into Shouyou’s chest and wishing he was anywhere but here. It was a shame, too, he really did like Shouyou, and he felt horrible for having to let his old friend down like this, but he couldn’t lead him on.
“It-it’s not that,” was all he was able to croak out. Shouyou’s hands had stopped rubbing, and Kenma could feel the boy staring down at him, his eyes boring into the top of his head. Kenma coughed and tried again. “Well, first of all, I’m, uh...I’m not really a boy.” He hadn’t exactly meant to say that, but once it was out there was no turning back. Besides, he trusted Shouyou, for some strange reason. “And, well, I guess I’m not a girl either. Everyone I know back in Tokyo thinks I’m a boy, but, uh…” He trailed off, unsure of how to say it. Every part of his body felt like it was on fire, and he knew he was sweating uncontrollably; his ears were ringing and he felt so unbelievably dizzy.
“Are you agender?” Shouyou’s voice didn’t actually sound all that confused, or even judgmental. Curious was the only word Kenma’s addled brain could find to describe it.
“Uh, yeah, I guess.”
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner? I feel bad, I’ve been calling you a boy this whole time!”
Oh. Kenma was almost relieved. He peeled his face off of Shouyou’s shirt, slightly damp with Kenma’s tears and sweat, and looked up at Shouyou. He was smiling, not a trace of anger in his features.
“I...I didn’t really think of it, I’m sorry, I hadn’t really told anyone actually…”
Shouyou smiled, even laughed a little. “So that’s why you were crying?”
Kenma’s dizziness returned just as quickly as it had disappeared. “Uh, not really. I, uh...Well the truth is, I don’t actually feel comfortable with dating.”
The outburst was unexpected, even to Kenma. He hadn’t meant for the words to tumble out, but they had, and now he felt like he was being pricked by a million needles and dark clouds were swirling in from the corners of his brain and oh god he regretted everything.
“Not comfortable with dating…” Shouyou echoed, his voice pensive. “With dating me?”
Kenma hid his face into Shouyou’s shirt. “With dating anyone, I guess.”
Shouyou’s thumbs were tracing circles on Kenma’s back, soothing the shivers that were racking Kenma’s body as his breathing grew quicker and shallower. He hadn’t meant for this to be a coming-out session; he’d never exposed this side of himself to anyone, let alone the boy he’d loved when he was ten years old. Shouyou sighed deeply, running a hand through Kenma’s hair.
“I understand. I’m sorry, Ken-ch—Kenma. I dunno what I was thinking, I guess a part of me still liked you and I assumed you were the same, but...well it’s fine that you’re not. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
He sounded almost disappointed, and Kenma dug his face deeper into Shouyou’s chest. “I’m sorry, Shouyou,” he squeaked out, voice muffled by Shouyou’s body. “I didn’t want to disappoint you, but, uh...I still want to be friends with you, and, well, I still really like you, just, uh, just not romantically.”
Kenma could practically hear Shouyou’s face light up, and he felt a smile spread across his own face in sheer relief.
“That’s still awesome!” Shouyou chirped excitedly. “We can be like platonic boyfriends, or well, you’re not a boy, so like a platonic couple?”
Kenma smiled at him, finally freeing himself from Shouyou’s arms, and now it was Hinata’s turn to be squeezed in a hug.
“Sure! I’d love to do that,” Kenma said, overwhelmed with relief and fondness for the boy, and the feeling of Shouyou’s body squirming in his arms as the boy laughed with delight was something he decided he wanted to remember forever.
They ended up watching a movie after all, but this time, they chose a comedy that they both had been wanting to see (not a romantic one, Shouyou made sure of that). Pretty soon, Kenma found that he wasn’t even watching the movie anymore, but instead, watching Shouyou’s reactions. He was sure that Shouyou’s laughter was better than anything the movie could’ve shown, anyway. They ate dinner with Shouyou’s parents and Natsu, and then spent the next few hours playing video games and just talking; catching up after six years of being apart, telling funny stories about their respective teammates, talking about volleyball and video games and friendships and everything in between. By the time they realized how tired they were, it was already past midnight, and Kenma was about to crawl over to the spare futon Shouyou had laid out for him when Shouyou wrapped his arms around Kenma’s waist and refused to let go.
“Stay with me,” he whined, and Kenma smiled, gave an exaggerated sigh, and stretched out next to him. It felt nice, he decided, to lay in Shouyou’s arms, and it was hard for Kenma to hate his body when it fit so perfectly with Shouyou’s. He knew that Kuroo would tease him tomorrow, and even though the thought was a cruel reminder that this wouldn’t last forever, and Kenma would be leaving for Tokyo soon, this time, he wasn’t anxious. They wouldn’t lose touch this time; they could text, and call each other, and Skype, and now that they both played volleyball, there would probably be other opportunities to see each other again. As he drifted off to sleep, Kenma’s last thought was that for once in his life, everything really was going to be okay.