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“Kuro, please …”
“Nope, you know how we do this, Kenma.”
Kenma signs and relents, placing his fist among his friends’ where they’re all huddled in a circle together. Without further ado, Kuroo begins his horrid, embarrassing speech. Kenma is proud of himself for not rolling his eyes – it’s always very difficult not to.
“We need to keep flowing without a hitch, make sure the oxygen circulates–” okay, maybe Kenma does roll his eyes, “– so the brain can do his job.”
Kenma sighs as they all part, slowing his footsteps to walk beside Kuro. “That never stops being embarrassing.”
Kuroo clicks his tongue.
“Someone has to remind you, Kenma.”
“Of what?”
Kuroo grins.
“That you’re incredible.”
Kenma, once again, rolls his eyes and walks faster, mostly to hide the traitorous grin tugging at his lips.
Kuroo doesn’t mind it, either. He really does believe that someone needs to remind Kenma how amazing he is, and Kuroo is more than happy to be the one taking on that role.
It’s what they do for each other.
—
Kenma would tell anyone who asked that between him and Kuroo, Kuroo has it worse. From such a young age he was practically begging his father for attention in all the correct ways – perfect grades, perfect health, perfect behavior. It never seemed to be enough though, not for Kuroo’s father anyway, who never had much time to so much as look at Kuroo to offer a short praise before he turned back to his work.
Kenma would argue that he shouldn’t complain about the way his own parents idly hover, even if their gaze was always so critical, always so unsatisfied.
“I did study,” Kenma says on the phone, trying to be quiet on the crowded train. Kuroo sits beside him, listening in, offering his presence as a comforting beacon. “My grades are fine. I wouldn’t be allowed to play volleyball otherwise – I’m not – sorry. Yes. Okay … Bye.”
Kenma sighs and slips his phone into his pocket. Neither of them says anything for a moment, Kuroo allowing Kenma to gather himself – not that anyone else can tell he’s upset. Kenma has always been too good at hiding his feelings. He can’t hide from Kuroo though.
“You were one of the top in your class.”
“Yeah.”
“You did great, Kenma.”
“I guess. Not to them.”
Silence stretches out between them again – a silence that speaks and offers comfort and understanding, that wraps around Kenma like a warm, familiar blanket. Kuroo reaches around Kenma to squeeze his opposite shoulder, and it’s all the initiative Kenma needs to drop his head against Kuroo’s arm the rest of the train ride.
“Come over,” Kuroo says as they hop off the train. “We can say I’m helping you with chemistry again. Plus, dad’s not home so you’re obligated to spend time with me so I’m not bored, alone, sulking in my lonesome misery.”
Kenma shoulders his backpack and looks down thoughtfully as they walk.
“Are you going to cook anything for dinner?”
“If that’s what it takes to make my pudding-head happy again.” Kuroo sighs ruefully.
Kenma elbows Kuroo in the gut. Kuroo just laughs his awful hyena cackle that makes Kenma want to smother him with a pillow.
“You’re such a weirdo.”
—
Finals approach rapidly – not that Kenma is very worried, his parents won’t be impressed no matter what he scores, but Kuroo is poring over his studies. It seems like a waste of his time to Kenma, since Kenma is absolutely certain Kuroo could pass all of his exams without so much as glancing at the study material.
But Kenma humors him anyway, and partakes in their stupid, unnecessary study sessions.
Well, maybe not all that unnecessary, seeing as how Kenma is about to tear his chemistry book to shreds, burn it and spread the ashes in the nearest toilet.
“Kenma.”
“No.”
Kuroo sucks his teeth.
“You’re making that face.”
“I’m not.”
“You are.”
“I’m not,”
…
“You are.”
Kenma launches a bunched up paper at Kuroo, who cackles and crawls over to Kenma’s side of the low table. “Chemistry, huh?” Kuroo says, looking over Kenma’s notes. Kenma just huffs through his nose.
“It’s just math and science, Kenma, you’re good at both of those.”
“Not together, apparently.”
“Well, fortunately for you, your best friend happens to love chemistry.” Kuroo grabs Kenma’s pen, and Kenma is about to scoot over to make room for Kuroo when instead Kuroo’s arm curls around him and Kenma is suddenly very aware of Kuroo’s proximity behind him, close enough that he can feel Kuroo’s breath on his cheek. Kuroo is talking, explaining this and that, and Kenma would be paying attention if he wasn’t actively trying to get his heart rate under control.
“See?” Kuroo says, as if he didn’t just send Kenma whirling through a whole life revelation.
Kenma hums numbly as Kuroo removes himself from behind him and rounds back over to his side of the table.
Kenma stares blankly down at his work. He stares and stares and stares as he processes the feelings racing through him.
“Oh, I almost forgot,” Kuroo says and begins rummaging through his backpack to pull out a lunch box. Out of it, he reveals an assortment of snacks, all of which Kenma recognizes from a bakery somewhat out of the way that they’re both fond of. The last thing that Kuroo pulls out of the lunch box is, of course, a slice of Kenma’s favorite apple pie, tucked in its cute bakery packaging.
“You can have that after we finish studying.” Kenma stares at the slice of pie, then at his best friend who is already back to focusing on his work. Kenma’s heart gives a traitorous flutter, so of course Kenma’s response is to drop his head against the table with a loud enough thud to startle his best friend.
“Oy, don’t be dramatic, we’ll be done in thirty minutes!”
Kenma only wishes that’s what the problem was.
—
They both do great on their finals. Neither of them really had anything to worry about in the first place, despite Kuroo’s incessant studying.
It was worth it, though, because Kuroo looks so proud to discover that he scored in the top rankings at their school. He deserves to be proud of himself. Kenma is proud of him too, and says so on their walk home the best that he knows how.
“You did really well,” Kenma says. The silence that follows earns Kenma’s attention as he turns to see his best friend grinning all big, toothy, stupid and ugly. He reallys is just like a big, long hyena. “Stop it, you look creepy when you smile like that.”
“Kyanma,” Kuroo teases, “You’re so sweet.”
“I hate you.”
Kuroo cackles, ropes an arm around Kenma’s shoulders, jostling him, and despite trying to be annoyed, Kenma can’t help but be fond.
“My dad is going to take me out for a celebratory dinner.” Kenma’s brows raise incrementally.
“He should.” Kuroo ducks his head.
“Yeah. He’s just really busy, you know? But he said he’s proud so he’s taking me out.”
Kema hums and refrains from speaking ill of Kuroo’s father for his inconsistent support of Kuroo’s successes, only because Kuroo is clearly happy to have earned his attention.
“Better be somewhere expensive,” Kenma says, earning a snorted laugh from Kuroo.
Later that evening, Kenma can’t say he’s surprised when Kuroo walks into his house just as he’s trotting downstairs to the kitchen, standing in the doorway looking every bit like a kicked puppy.
“Hey,” he says, tucking his keys back into his pocket. “My dad uh—had to cancel.”
Kenma’s heart could shatter in his chest right then, if Kuroo looked even a hair more dejected.
“Do you want to make dinner together?” Kenma offers instantly, “My parents gave me money before they left.”
Kuroo looks like he’s about to protest, but Kenma interrupts. “We’re making dinner.”
Kuroo looks up at Kenma with an expression soaked in affection — so much that Kenma has to look away. He toes on his sneakers and walks out the door.
“Come on,” he says, and Kuroo does so, following behind Kenma.
At the store, they do what teenage boys do. They mess around, wreaking havoc — albeit in a courteous manner because both of them are better than to trash a store. Kenma steers the cart deliberately into Kuroo every now and then. Kuroo grabs a bag of frozen vegetables at some point and sneaks up behind a Kenma to press it against his neck, to which Kenma expels a startled curse that earns an abased glare from an elderly couple, who they both duck their heads to apologetically before laughing quietly as they walk away.
They pay for the groceries and walk home. Kenma is glad to see Kuroo walking with his chin just a little higher.
They both knew, once they got into Kenma’s kitchen, that Kuroo was going to end up doing most of the cooking. Kenma really doesn’t know his way around the kitchen. He does help though. He cuts the vegetables and measures out the ingredients. Kenma makes sure to be at least a little childish for Kuroo’s entertainment — he’ll reach around Kuroo to pick at the cooking food knowing Kuroo will bat at his hand and chastise him, or poke Kuroo’s sides so he’ll jump in surprise and pretend to try to whack Kenma with the spatula. He also makes sure to sigh and consistently asks if the food is done yet, to which Kuroo mocks him and regularly threatens to eat all the food himself if Kenma doesn’t stop.
They move up to Kenma’s bedroom to eat. Kenma multitasks with a game — a story game he only plays when he’s with Kuroo because they both waited for it’s release for such a long time.
“Hey, Kenma?”
“Hm?”
“Thanks. I know your parents didn’t leave you money and that you used the money you’ve been saving.”
Kenma tenses, then shrugs.
“I wanted to.”
“I know,” Kuroo says and rolls his head onto Kenma’s shoulder, grinning as he raises a hand to pinch Kenma’s cheek. “So sweet under that tsundere exterior.”
Kenma sucks his teeth, kicking a leg out to lightly hit Kuroo’s shin. Kuroo just laughs, and the sound strokes gently at the taught strings of Kenma’s heart. It’s a good sound.
About three hours pass during which Kenma games, Kuroo making occasional comments about the progression or informing Kenma that he missed something, or taking the remote altogether to give it a try every now and then.
It’s nice. Kenma wishes they could do more, but it was already so late when Kuroo came over. Kenma wishes he came over sooner, his mind straying to Kuroo sitting home alone, waiting for his dad to show. Tomorrow, he thinks maybe they can go out with their friends, make a trip to the beach — not that Kenma has ever much enjoyed the beach, but Kuroo likes it.
“Hey, Kuro?” Kenma calls, but gains no response. He looks beside himself and finds Kuroo asleep, eyes shut and chest rising and falling with slow, deep breaths. With Kuroo asleep, Kenma realizes he can openly look at Kuroo — the straight line of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the softness of his expression when he has nobody to impress, nobody to take care of. Kenma doesn’t even realize he’s reaching his hand out until his knuckles graze gently against Kuroo’s cheek. Just as quickly, he pulls his hand away.
Kenma stands and retrieves a blanket that he places carefully over Kuroo so as to not wake him. He considers dragging out a futon, but quickly dismisses the idea. They’ve shared a bed plenty of times, anyway.
Kenma turns off the lights and crawls under his covers. He doesn’t usually go to bed this early, but maybe if he does, he can wake up at the same time as Kuroo and they can actually start the day together — Kuroo used to complain when they used to have sleepovers because of how late Kenma wanted to start the day.
Ugh . He’s going to be that kind of person when he has a crush.
Kenma looks up at Kuroo fast asleep across from him. But then again, Kuroo goes out of his way for Kenma all the time, so maybe …
ugh.
Kenma rolls over and shoves his face into his pillow, biting back a frustrated noise.
—-
The new year is approaching. As the holiday break gets closer, both Kenma and Kuroo fall into a slump of sorts. Their friends all notice.
“What’s going on with you two?” Yaku asks one afternoon, during lunch.
“Hm?” Kenma and Kuroo both hum, looking up at their friends simultaneously, looking very much like a pair of zombies.
Tora wrinkles his nose beside Yaku.
“Jeez,” he says, because it really is an uncanny sight -- not especially so for Kenma, but Kuroo?
The pair stare at their classmates, brows furrowed quizzically. They really are something else, at least to anyone on the outside looking in. Their minds always seem to be on a different plane, shared among just the two of them.
“They are something else,” Tora comments as the two begin plucking food from each other's bentos. Yaku hums in agreement. “Do you think they know?”
Yaku shakes his head.
“I don’t think they have a clue.”
“What?” Kuroo asks, looking up, mouth full with a boiled egg he stole from Kenma’s bento.
“Nothing,” they both sigh. Kuroo shrugs them off and continues eating, though Kenma’s eyes flick briefly to the other two, gaze knowing.
“They’re right. You've been acting off.” Kenma says later as they’re walking home
“We’ve been acting off.”
“Whatever,” Kenma mumbles. “What’s wrong?”
Kuroo sighs through his nose, tilting his head back to look at the clouds.
“The new year’s break is coming up. Usually we all visit family together.”
Kenma looks over, sympathy rising in him.
“Did your dad cancel?”
“What? – Oh, no. I just … don’t really want to go.”
That … surprises Kenma.
“Really?”
“Yeah. Is that bad?”
Kenma shakes his head. Kuroo is always being left behind by his father. It would make sense that he’s finally starting to crack – that his sense of self worth is finally starting to chip away at his patience.
“I don’t think so.”
Kuroo hums.
“What about you? What’s wrong?”
Kenma sighs.
“You already know. We leave for the break too, to visit family. Every year it gets more draining when I show up and still don’t fit the mold they want of me. I hate how they make me feel.”
“Yeah,” Kuroo agrees, and Kenma knows he understands. “So let’s not go.”
Kenma swings his head up to look at Kuroo with wide, shocked eyes – Kuroo was usually so eager to spend time with his dad.
“Kuro…”
“I mean it. We can say we have an extracurricular activity we’re participating in so we can’t go,” then, quieter, he adds, “They don’t get to pick and choose when they want us to be a part of their life.” On Kuroo’s face rests raw emotions of abandonment and hurt, feelings that Kenma understands too well and hates to see them resting so out of place, yet so honestly, on Kuroo’s own expression.
“Okay,” Kenma agrees, voice hoarse, “Let’s celebrate the new year together,” and it’s the easiest decision he’s ever made in his life.
It’s easy enough to stay behind when their parents do leave. Neither of them really puts up much of a fight – Kuroo’s dad wholeheartedly believes Kuroo, and Kenma’s parents are relieved to see their son taking an interest in something of their approval.
They spend the beginning of New Year’s Eve with the few friends that stayed behind for the break, wandering around the city, talking, shopping, and stopping at a cafe to kill some time. When evening rolls around, Kuroo and Kenma retreat to Kuroo’s house. They buy take out and set up the TV in the family room to mess around on Kenma’s gaming console.
Once midnight is only a few minutes away, Kenma switches the TV over to the news to watch the countdown. It shows images of people gathered in large groups, celebrating – nothing that Kenma much enjoys, but Kuroo has always been more of a people person.
“Do you wish you were with your family?” Kenma asks. Kuroo shakes his head.
“No. I think I would have been pretty miserable the whole time, fighting for any scraps of recognition. Do you?”
“No,” Kenma immediately replies. “This is probably the most comfortable I’ve ever been on New Year’s Eve.”
“Me too. I think.”
Silence stretches, but it’s not uncomfortable – it never is when it’s the two of them.
“Hey, Kenma,” Kuroo calls. Kenma hums in acknowledgement, he looks at Kuroo and is surprised to see Kuroo with a sheepish expression, cheeks turning a light red. “Do you ever wonder about us?”
“What do you mean?” Kenma asks, his heart already beginning to hasten in his chest – were they always sitting so close?
“I mean – we’re pretty close.”
“Yeah,” Kenma presses.
“And, you know, sometimes people think …”
Kenma’s cheeks feel warmer, but he’s sure they don’t look any redder than Kuroo’s cheeks. Of course, Kuroo is talking about the rumors that occasionally spring up about Kuroo and Kenma acting a little closer than friends.
“Why are you bringing that up?”
Kuroo rubs awkwardly at the back of his neck. He turns to look at Kenma – they really are sitting a bit too close, so close that Kenma can see the light freckles on Kuroo’s face and the subtle scars from past breakouts.
“I guess–” Kuroo says, then stops as his eyes flick down to Kenma’s lips. It feels like all too long and all too short that two hover closely like that, Kenma’s heart racing all the while. “Nevermind,” Kuroo says, and looks away. “Sorry, I’m being weird.”
Kenma doesn’t move away though. He continues to stare at his best friend, who just revealed everything Kenma needed to know without even saying it.
“Tetsurou,” Kenma calls. Kuroo, surprised to hear Kenma use his first name instead of his childhood nickname, looks up, surprised.
Kenma doesn’t usually take the initiative with these sorts of things because he doesn’t really know how. If anyone has ever been willing to be patient with Kenma though, it’s Kuroo.
Kenma doesn’t know what he’s doing when he closes the distance between them, when he presses his lips against Kuroo’s. It’s short – so short – just a mere peck. Kuroo’s eyes are wide when he pulls back, cheeks likely as red as Kenma’s.
Kuroo doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink – this lasts long enough that Kenma actually starts to doubt himself when suddenly Kuroo is moving forward, his hands coming up to gently cup Kenma’s neck. Kenma closes his eyes as Kuroo’s lips find his once more, this time more assured and confident.
It takes a moment for the shock to leave Kenma’s body, but when it does, Kenma sighs into the kiss and wraps his arms behind Kuroo’s neck.
Neither of them hears the people on TV cheering as the clock strikes midnight – not when Kenma falls back against the sofa as Kuroo continues to kiss him.
Neither of them is sure if the fireworks they hear going off are real, or only something they can hear.
—
It’s not surprising when Kenma’s parents don’t approve of their relationship. They weren’t meant to find out just yet, but Kuroo and Kenma haven’t exactly been cautious of where they kiss and rumors spread quickly.
“‘I wish you’d think about how you make your parents look.’”
“Hell, she said that?” Kuroo asks. The two of them are sitting by a stream they often used to go to as kids, Kenma plucking at the grass as he speaks.
“Yeah.”
“Are you alright?” Kuroo asks.
“Yeah.” Kenma says. “I don’t actually care that they don’t approve. Kissing you on New Year’s was the best decision I ever made. I don’t need them to tell me that.”
Kuroo’s face is beet red when Kenma looks at him. Kenma laughs fondly. Who would have thought it’d be so easy to make Kuroo blush?
“Oy, you can’t just say things like that.”
Kenma’s smirk is nearly imperceptible to anyone else. “I didn’t expect you to be such a smooth talker,” Kuroo complains. Kenma laughs, gentle and sincere.
…
“I never told you, but I did tell my dad about us.”
Kenma looks at Kuroo, curious.
“What does he think?”
“Nothing. He said, ‘Kenma is a good kid ,’ and then left for work.”
Kenma huffs.
“Two completely different problems that still somehow manage to be the same exact problem.”
Kenma drops his head against Kuroo’s shoulder.
“We’ll get through it.”
Kenma hums. As long as they’re together, Kenma thinks they could probably get through anything.
—
Years later, the two of them are still together. Their friendship almost seamlessly blended into a relationship. Years later, Kenma is a very successful streamer and Kuroo is a very successful businessman.
“Kuro,” Kenma says one evening, laying down on their bed as he stares at the ceiling.
“Yes?” Kuroo calls as he walks around the bedroom, getting ready for bed.
“Remember when you asked me if I’d ever want to get married, and I told you ‘not really’.”
“Yup. Can’t forget. It was just yesterday and I’m still heartbroken.”
Kenma huffs and narrows his eyes.
“I told you, it’s just because–”
“It’s performative and unnecessary and just the government’s way of monetizing relationships.”
“Kuro.”
“I get it, Kenma. I understand, really–”
“I changed my mind.”
Kuroo stops midway through pulling on his shirt, then shifts in a very unhuman-looking way as he quickly weasels it the rest of the way on. “Wait really?” he asks, eyes wide. Kenma sits up as Kuroo walks over to the bed and sits down, legs crossed as he stares eagerly at Kenma.
“Yes, but,”
“But?” Kuroo presses. Kenma rolls his eyes.
“I just don’t like the idea of our parents being there. But I know it’s going to cause a lot of issues if we don’t invite them.” Kuroo shrugs.
“We can have two ceremonies; one with them, one with our friends.
Kenma looks uncertain. Kuroo stares at him, eyes flicking over his face. “Why did you change your mind?”
Kenma shrugs.
“Because you deserve it. Because I know it’ll make you happy.”
“Kenma – that’s sweet, but you have to want to get married too.”
“Well, I know I want to be with you for the rest of my life, so isn’t that enough of a reason to have a wedding for your boyfriend? Plus, I’m tired of calling you my boyfriend. It doesn’t sound right. We’re adults and we’ve been together for six years. Also, I know you want to have a big, obnoxious ceremony to flaunt us to everyone we know, and I want you to have that–”
Kuroo doesn’t mean to interrupt Kenma when he kisses him, he just thought Kenma looked really cute with his expression all pinched and red as he justified his thoughts.
“Alright,” Kuroo says when he pulls away. “So, tomorrow we can run down to the court house and get married with just the two of us – sign all those dumb papers and make it official, and then we can have a big obnoxious ceremony. That way, we get to keep the important part for ourselves — nobody can ruin it because they don’t like the theme or the clothes or whatever our parents decide to nitpick. ”
Kenma doesn’t look happy about being interrupted, even though the kiss was nice and Kuroo’s hands do feel grounding running up and down Kenma’s arms.
“Okay.” Kenma agrees, and Kuroo smiles all big and goofy. Maybe Kenma is pretty excited for this big, dumb wedding.