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“It’s a tragedy, the way he loves you;
it is a tragedy that star crossed lovers will read about you a hundred years later,
and weep over blood not yet spilt—
because if you two could not make it, no one will.”
Bokuto Koutarou doesn’t know a little bit. He knows a lot, he knows too much. The way the whole universe fits into his body, almost — it drips and overflows because putting the power of the stars and the moon, trying to fit the brightness of the sun into a body, is a lot. But Koutarou is just that; a lot. He is the galaxy trapped into a human body, with too much love to give and too little place to receive.
Sometimes, however, he is not much at all. Sometimes, he is nothing. The universe has black holes that absorb light into nothingness, into the unknown, taking everything on their way. Koutarou is just that too; a soul without any light, when all that once overflowed his body is sucked in, tucked inside.
Bokuto Koutarou is both, yet never in between. A flicker light that a child would try to keep in the middle, forcing it, maintaining it, but either the lamp shines, or it stays dark.
He thrives in the court of middle school alone, with bodies and minds behind him but nobody with him. He has goals. They start tiny, feeling the ball against his hands, feeling it bouncing on his arms, hearing the sound of the ball crashing on the ground. Be wonderful. Be great.
He wants to fly. He wants to jump as high as he can and maybe reach the sky, extend his hands and brush the clouds with his fingertips. He wants the eyes, the attention; he wants people to see the abundance in him and think… think that it is the brightest light they have ever seen. He doesn’t want them to be afraid of the burn.
Koutarou wants, he wants, he wants.
He plays late at night. He asks for one, two, three more passes, and clenches his jaw when he looks back and nobody is here. He is alone, floating in nothingness, like the universe and the world.
But Koutarou is greedy, not selfish.
So he smiles and asks again the day after. He plays with everyone and helps them. He runs faster, runs longer, and if people aren't next to him, and if people can’t stay, it’s alright. They’re just still afraid of the light.
__________
Koutarou is sixteen when he meets Kuroo.
He stands tall between his teammates, a red flower standing in a vast green field, and he follows Koutarou everywhere on the court.
Koutarou spikes but Kuroo is there to block the ball. Koutarou faints but Kuroo is there to catch it before it falls. They follow each other, and they take risks, and they look, effortless grin and competition taking the best of them. He likes it.
Koutarou likes it. He can’t even wait until the end of the match to ask Kuroo to train a bit more with him, excitement getting the best of him. Even if they have the whole week of training camp to do so, Kuroo’s energy matches his; he agrees without second thoughts.
They toss and spike and jump and fall, they train until they are the only ones left. But he doesn’t notice it. Koutarou plays, mind focused on Kuroo and the ball only. Because Kuroo is strong and he likes it. Because Kuroo doesn’t say ‘I’m tired’ yet, he doesn’t ask for a break, he sets and spikes and blocks.
Oh, Koutarou is happy. His heart beats so strongly in his chest that he is sure Kuroo could hear it at the other side of the court. His muscles are thrilled, his mind blissed out, and he feels great. Kuroo chuckles and Koutarou laughs.
The guy is fun, dedicated, and strong. He makes Bokuto better, forces him to jump higher and hit faster. But he’ll get tired, and Koutarou knows the song by heart now. Kuroo is going to say it was good practice, but when Koutarou will ask him again tomorrow if he’d like to train with him again, he’ll run away. He has seen the light tonight, and no one that has already seen it has stayed in its warmth. It burns, it scratches their skin.
It’s when the night is out, and the noises of their teammates eating echo, that Kuroo pauses, two hands on his knees, a grin on his face. He looks good.
“We should head back before there’s nothing left to eat.” His voice is raspy, he’s trying to catch his breath. He’s tired, and Koutarou is a little disappointed. His own muscles are tingling, asking him to do one more, to push on a little bit, push it until perfection, push it until greatness.
But he answers instead, “Right.”
Kuroo still sends him the ball one last time, and as Koutarou jumps to hit it, he feels both excited and sad. It’ll be the last spike he’d ever get from Kuroo. So he hits it hard, sending it on the line, and as he falls back on his feet, he’s smiling wide.
Kuroo smiles. “You’re strong.”
“Thanks!” Koutarou beams, untying the net and folding it in his arms, he cracks a smirk. “You’re not so bad yourself.”
Kuroo laughs. He taps Koutarou on the shoulder and takes one pole, walking to the packing room. “Thanks. I’m not my strongest when I’m alone, though. You, however, shine even by yourself.”
Koutarou’s heart swells with the praise; his cheeks turn red, and the smile grows wider and wider, eyes sparkling. “Thank you bro!”
Kuroo shrugs, wiping the sweat on his face with his shirt. He closes the packing room, turning away to take his bag and shoes, and Koutarou follows. They’re walking in the dark, following the clatter of their teammates, when Kuroo turns around and Koutarou looks up — he’s stuck into place, unable to do anything other than stare at Kuroo’s eyes. He’s grinning, challenging.
“Let’s do that again tomorrow, yeah?” Kuroo says.
Koutarou sees it then; Kuroo is not afraid of fire.
He shivers.
Koutarou overflows with love the moment the words are said, feeling his chest inflate, bigger and bigger until it’s close to exploding. He answers then, screaming so loud Kuroo jumps, smile momentarily leaving his face. “Hell yeah!”
Kuroo is startled for a moment, but Koutarou can’t even overthink it. He has received love tonight, and now he is dripping again, ready to throw it back at the world. Kuroo finally laughs, openly, hands on his stomach and back arching. Koutarou flushes; he’s happy.
“You really are something!” Kuroo smiles, arching a brow. “Can’t wait to play against you again.” At this point, Koutarou is pretty sure one more compliment will make him explode. “If you won today though, it’s because my team isn’t that strong. They aren’t even that interested in volleyball.”
Koutarou hums. He knows the feeling. He’s still only a first year, but he’s still playing because he’s good, and he’s good because he really likes the game. The others like the sport too, but they aren’t passionate.
“Careful next year, though.” Kuroo warns. He has a glint in his eyes that makes Koutarou even more excited. “There'll be a new player, and I’m ten times better with him.”
Koutarou licks his lips in anticipation. Kuroo is already strong, and he would do anything to see him in full force. He sneers, though, pushing his bag on his shoulder and walking ahead. “I’ll work harder to beat the two of you, then.”
It’s a promise.
__________
“Kuroo.”
“…”
“Kuroo!”
“Hm?”
“Are you sleeping?”
“…”
“Kuroo!”
“What?”
“Are you sleeping?”
Kuroo cracks an eye open, squints in the dark. “Bokuto?”
“Yeah.”
Tonight is a bad night. Tomorrow is the last day of training camp, and tonight is a bad night.
Koutarou tried to sleep, he really did, but he started feeling low the moment he took his shower, all the adrenaline and happiness flowing out of him with the droplets of water rolling on his body to the floor. So he tossed and turned in his futon, but it did him no good. He just got sadder and more frustrated, so tonight is definitely not a good night.
“What are you doing awake?” Kuroo asks in a whisper, looking around to make sure all his teammates are still sleeping.
Koutarou shrugs. “Can’t sleep.”
He squats, facing the futon with his head hovering over Kuroo’s and hands settled on his knees. He wants to cry a little bit, but thinks it would be lame to do so in front of a cool guy he just met.
Kuroo lets his head fall backwards and groans. “Give me, like, ten seconds.”
“Okay,” Koutarou murmurs, and he counts.
He doesn’t want to stay alone tonight. He usually can, not like he has any choice anyway. But when the nights are heavy, and the black holes take the best of him, he curls up in bed and waits for sunlight. He can’t do that tonight. He doesn’t feel like it.
“Kuroo?”
“Hm?”
“It’s been ten seconds.”
Kuroo lets out a little chuckle and opens his eyes. He looks into Koutarou’s eyes for a few seconds before finally moving, standing up. Koutarou just looks at him until Kuroo gives him his hand and helps him stand up.
“We’re gonna get in trouble,” Koutarou whispers as he follows Kuroo through the corridors, heading outside.
“I’ll say it’s your fault,” Kuroo yawns, scratching at his belly.
Koutarou cracks a smile.
They sit on the stairs at the entry and look at the sky. The space between them grows silent then, but Koutarou doesn’t mind. He feels Kuroo’s warmth next to him, and it’s enough. It’s enough.
__________
“Do you like jellyfishes?”
There’s a beat of silence, but Koutarou doesn’t look away from the stars.
“Hm, not particularly? I don’t know, I’ve never really thought about it before.”
“You should.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
__________
Koutarou looks at Kuroo. His eyes are closed, head raised to the sky, a very small and soft smile on his lips.
He’s pretty. Under the glow of the stars, and with the blue shade of the night, Kuroo looks pretty.
__________
“Bo!” Kuroo screams, and Koutarou stops on the stairs of his bus and turns towards him. He’s waving.
“What’s up?” Koutarou asks.
“You’re coming again next camp, right?” Kuroo is out of breath, but he’s smiling anyway.
Koutarou’s heart misses a beat, and he smiles back, nodding. “Of course!”
“Great then!” Kuroo fumbles into his pocket and gives him a little piece of paper, then he turns back, waves again and shouts as he runs to his own bus. “Text me!”
Koutarou doesn’t have the time to say anything back before Kuroo disappears and one of his own teammates urges him to come inside. Koutarou flops on one seat and takes out his headphones, he opens the paper. There, written in very crumpled handwriting, is Kuroo’s number.
There’s a jellyfish drawn at the bottom of the paper.
Koutarou smiles, and saves the number. He wishes jellyfish emoji existed, but they don’t, so he types instead.
Me :
see ya next time!!!!
__________
See, for Koutarou, everyone is a friend. Even though he has enemies on the court, once they’re not playing, they’re friends. If these friends accept the love he gives them, then they’re good friends. And if they even give in return, then they’re very good friends.
Kuroo Tetsurou is a very, very good friend.
Because Kuroo accepts every day and every night at every hour. Koutarou sends him a picture of a leaf, and Kuroo says it’s beautiful. Koutarou asks him if he’s already tried putting orange juice in his milk in the morning instead of drinking both in separate glasses, and Kuroo says he hasn’t and that Koutarou surely shouldn’t.
But Kuroo also gives and gives without limits, so much that Bokuto explodes. Kuroo shows him the pastries he cooks, and promises to bake something for him one day. Kuroo sends him goodnight texts, and screams at him to go to sleep when he sees he’s still online.
Kuroo is a very, very good friend and Koutarou is pumped to see him again the next day, after months apart for holidays. He’s a second year now, and it’s thrilling, it’s exciting.
It also means Kuroo has a plus one in his team, probably more, but Kenma will be at training camp tomorrow and Kuroo promised he would be even better. Koutarou can’t sleep that night, because he’s buzzing with overexcitement. He wants to play, he wants to crush Kuroo, he wants to win.
Kuroo isn’t the only one to have a plus one this year, though.
Akaashi Keiji is interesting to say the least. He’s a pretty weird kid, but Koutarou guesses he doesn’t have the right to judge. He doesn’t mind though. Akaashi is polite, and he plays, and he sets additional tosses to Koutarou.
And his tosses… his tosses are wonderful. The ball flies high and quick, and it pushes Koutarou to reach for the sky, to jump higher and think faster. It sets a fire in him, one greater than his usual flame. Greater, but manageable, and when Akaashi smiles after, satisfied, Koutarou feels like he could conquer the world.
He wants to show that to Kuroo. So when he sees his friend from far away at training camp, he takes Akaashi and runs, waving with his free hand.
“Bro!” Kuroo greets, and he opens his arms, and they crash. Koutarou is not afraid of the impact. He’s as big as the universe, but Kuroo isn’t frail. Kuroo can take it. He can take the burns.
“You’re even taller!” Koutarou remarks, and he pats Kuroo’s hair, rusty and dry between his fingers. Kuroo pushes him away, shoves his palm at Koutarou’s face, and Koutarou laughs aloud because it feels good.
Just for good measure, he passes his arm around Kuroo’s shoulders and tackles him again, and Kuroo laughs and Koutarou’s heart sings. His whole body is vibrating, ready to burst.
They finally separate to take a better look at each other, and they look stupid standing like that in the alley, grinning like fools. But Koutarou doesn’t care. Kuroo is a very, very good friend and Kuroo is here.
“This is Kenma,” Kuroo finally says, and he steps aside to reveal a small figure hiding behind him, holding his bag very firmly.
Kenma is small, and Koutarou didn't expect that. He looks very cute but also very uncomfortable, as if someone had told him a hurricane would hit him today. Kuroo probably told him that. Koutarou is probably the hurricane. So he has to force himself not to hug Kenma.
He smiles instead, big, bright, as usual, and waves enthusiastically. “Hi Kenma! I’m Bokuto.”
Kenma nods, “I know.” He waves back. It’s small, hesitant, but cute and Koutarou will take it.
Koutarou turns around, pulling Akaashi to his level. “This is Akaashi! He’s very cool, and he’s strong. And together, we’re going to win against the two of you.”
Kuroo laughs, loud and obnoxious. “I’d like to see you try.”
Koutarou’s heart swells in anticipation.
__________
If someone were to ask Koutarou what he wants in life, he’d answer, very eagerly, ‘everything’. It’s not that he doesn’t know what he wants, rather that he knows he wants everything he can have, and even the things he can’t. There are too many beautiful things in the world for him to settle on a few.
He feels the volleyball in his hands as he throws it in the air and sets, and he wants to feel it again. He hears praises and encouragement from the stands and his teammates, and he wants to hear them forever. He receives a pat on the head from his teammates or a smile from Akaashi, and he wants to receive so much more.
He wants everything that he finds beautiful, everything that makes him feel good, that makes his heart burst with happiness, incapable to contain so much light, as his body shivers with adrenaline and kindness. He wants greatness.
He’s abundance — full of love, full of light with a fire that never goes out, that burns and burns endlessly. So he wants abundance, he wants nothing less than everything. Koutarou wants everything.
__________
Koutarou doesn’t really know why, but he can’t keep his eyes off Kuroo. He missed him too much, and they still have too little time before the end of training camp. Kuroo seems different, he has grown a bit, changed a little, and he does shine brighter next to Kenma. Maybe there’s that.
Kuroo is blocking a ball and Koutarou is watching him, and when he falls back on his feet, Koutarou follows the movement. Kuroo is teasing Kenma and Koutarou smiles, he gets kicked by Yaku and Koutarou laughs.
When he plays, Akaashi has to remind him several times not to focus too much on Kuroo, because Koutarou does, a lot . Kuroo takes advantage of it, and he faints, smirking and arching a brow. Koutarou grows frustrated, he takes it as a personal attack, and wants to shove that grin off Kuroo’s face, so he does.
Koutarou’s eyes are glued to Kuroo, even as they all eat together, or when they just chill around the gymnasium, talking in the wind while Kenma plays video games at their side. It’s fun, it’s cool.
“We can do a two against two!” Koutarou shouts after the end of practice, smiling widely at Kuroo and Kenma, Akaashi standing at his side.
Kenma looks at him and doesn’t seem to know if he’s confused as to how Koutarou has that much energy, or if he doesn’t want to question it and kill Koutarou before he’d force him to do extra training. Kuroo laughs.
“You’re not gonna get Kenma to lay a single toe on the court, I think.” He shrugs. “We’re gonna take turns.”
Koutarou wants to protest, to beg Kenma for a little bit more, but Kenma is already turning to the benches, and Kuroo shakes his head at Koutarou, as if he knows. He probably does.
So they play, they take turns, and despite that, it’s fun. Even as Akaashi’s tosses start getting a little low, even as Koutarou’s lungs ask him to stop. When Akaashi calls it a night, telling them not to overwork themselves, Kuroo stays. Kuroo always stays. Koutarou can’t stop. He asks for one more, and again, and again, and Kuroo indulges, with a smile.
Until Kenma calls him, and they both stop to look at the benches where Akaashi and Kenma are both seated, already changed.
“Kuro, you’re pushing,” he says flatly, a warning. Kuroo grins.
“Aw, Kenma! You care?”
Koutarou observes, and he notices it. The way Kuroo’s knees tremble a little, the fact that Kuroo’s shirt is soaked from sweat and that he can barely catch his breath. He’s tired.
“I can do a little more,” Kuroo states as he turns to Koutarou, wiping the sweat from his face.
And though Koutarou does want to go on, though his body is still tingling with the want, the need to do one more, just one more, he tucks the ball under his arm instead and shakes his head.
“We should stop.”
Kuroo arcs a brow at him, “Tired?”
Koutarou has pride; he’s ready to laugh and affirms that he could go on all night, but he bites his lips just in time. Kuroo seems really tired, he’s pushing for Koutarou, and this isn’t what Koutarou wants. He takes a look at Kenma, who’s still playing mindlessly on his video game.
“Yeah, let’s take a shower and eat.” He says instead.
Koutarou has a weird feeling. He tries to swallow it, but it doesn’t go away. It stays as they clean the gym, it stays as they shower, even as the four of them walk to get dinner together. It twists in his stomach as he looks at Kuroo’s smile, burns his inside when he looks at Kuroo’s arms around Kenma’s shoulder, and his heart leaps in his chest when he hears Kuroo laughs at something his best friend said. Koutarou is struck in place when he understands.
Kuroo is a little bit in love with Kenma.
Koutarou hates it.
__________
Koutarou is greedy, he wants it all. He wants it all.
The world and Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou.
__________
bb (best bro) <3:
[picture attached] LOOK AT THIS!!!!
Me :
WAIT HLD ON
Me :
DUDE LOOOOK!! [picture attached]
bb (best bro) <3:
???? that’s the same jersey you’ve had since last year
Me :
dude >:(
Me :
i kept the same number but im captain too now
bb (best bro) <3:
Lame. I got number #1. Better than you ;)
Me :
ill show u whos best next match
Me :
meanie
bb (best bro) <3:
I’d like to see you try <333
__________
The thing is, Koutarou has always thought Kuroo is warm, a light that never fades, who’s smile could light up the world. If Koutarou is instability, Kuroo is consistency. Like the sound of a clock that repeats itself every second, every minute, and then every hour. A comfortable ticking, that one grows used to, the noise becoming so important that at one point, without them noticing, they find out they can’t live without it any more.
Except that, sometimes, clocks break.
Koutarou would have never thought Kuroo would too.
It’s scary, to say the least, to witness Kuroo without light inside. Koutarou both wants to run away and stay to comfort him, even though he doesn’t know what to do. It’s frightening to see someone, so stable, stumble into nothingness. Koutarou is horrified, but also honoured that he is the one witnessing it.
Somehow, if he’s able to see the universe take away Kuroo’s brightness, it means Kuroo trusts him enough to let him witness it.
“Kuroo?”
Kuroo doesn’t even look back as Koutarou approaches him, keeping his eyes closed. He doesn’t know if it’s okay to do so or not, but Koutarou sits at his side. Not too close to give him space, but not far enough to let Kuroo know he is here.
Koutarou feels like there are light years between them.
When Kuroo finally opens his eyes and looks at him, Koutarou’s breath is stuck in his lungs. He wants to cry at the emptiness, at the sadness in Kuroo’s gaze.
No one that looks that pretty should have such pained eyes.
No one should.
Kuroo opens his mouth, his lips tremble. He closes it, and looks away.
“You don’t have to talk,” Koutarou murmurs, low and quiet, searching for Kuroo’s eyes.
He takes Kuroo’s hand, and waits. He waits for a reaction, anything that would give him a hint of Kuroo’s thoughts. Koutarou relaxes when Kuroo sighs and slowly bends down, resting his head on his shoulder. Koutarou still wants to cry, but he doesn’t. He doesn’t.
Koutarou thought Kuroo is a light that would never fade, but Kuroo is actually a candle. He takes people’s flame in his hands, he takes care of it and loves the fucking shit out of it, hiding the fact that he’s burning, melting inside. He makes sure the flame is well, burning, persisting, in detriment of his own wax.
Kuroo will consume himself for people, and Koutarou is absolutely horrified.
Later on that night, the fleeting thought that he, too, would lose his flame if he’d lose Kuroo, crosses his mind.
__________
“I do not want to have you to fill the empty parts of me
I want to be full in my own
I want to be so complete i would light a whole city
and then
I want to have you
Cause the two of us combined could set it on fire.”
— Rupi Kaur
“Dude! Open the door!” Kuroo shouts from the room as the doorbell echoes for the second time in the house. “Also, why do you have so many things? Do you really need to bring all your freaking room to Osaka?”
Koutarou frowns, tearing a scotch with his teeth to close one cardboard box. The dooring sings again.
“What are you talking about? I’m only bringing half of my things!” He screams back, putting the box away, very satisfied with his taping.
There’s an odd silence before Kuroo groans, yelling again, “Why do you need an owl teacup? You don’t even drink tea! And are you going to open that fucking door anytime soon, or do I have to do that myself too?”
Koutarou pouts, popping his head on his doorway, glaring at Kuroo. “Don’t you dare get rid of that teacup, it is very dear to me.”
Kuroo throws a plushie at him, repeating, “Kou! The door!” but Koutarou dodges it easily, laughing. Kuroo can’t help but crack a smile.
The delivery man is standing at the entry, waiting with their food patiently. Koutarou thanks him, and screams the moment he closes back the door, peeking inside the packet.
“Food is here!”
“Oh, thank god.”
He barely has time to put the food on the living room table that Kuroo is already here, sighing, content.
It smells good. It smells like departure and home, a mix of the bittersweet and comforting feeling of letting go, with the thrilling experience of a new adventure. Koutarou likes that smell. He’s sitting in the middle of his childhood house, eating with his best friend, and Koutarou likes it.
“Why are you smiling like a creep?” Kuroo asks, drinking his soda.
Koutarou shrugs, and smiles wider. “I’m happy.”
Kuroo sighs dramatically, shaking his head. “Can’t believe leaving your family behind makes you happy.”
Koutarou laughs, throwing a pillow at Kuroo who catches it right before it lands on his plate. He looks up at Koutarou, eyes wide.
“Do you want your mom to kill you?”
Koutarou shrugs, shoving rice down his throat. “I’ll tell her it’s your fault.”
“After everything I’ve done for you? This is how you thank me?”
Koutarou can’t help laughing, pushing Kuroo’s shoulders with his free hand. “You know I love you, dude, don’t worry.”
Kuroo cracks a smile at his turn, “I do know.”
There’s a hint of nostalgia and sadness in his words, but Koutarou doesn’t point it out. He can’t, because he doesn’t want Kuroo to cry, and he doesn’t want to cry either. Leaving is hard enough as it is, he doesn’t have to add to the pain.
But he has to go, for his dream. Kuroo has been the one telling him.
“Go make your dreams come true,” he had said, both hands on Koutarou’s shoulders, looking right into his golden eyes. “It won’t wait for you, but we will. We will always be there, waiting for you, and nothing will change.”
It has been half a lie, but Koutarou doesn’t mind. Kuroo just didn’t know back then, that he, too, is a dream Koutarou wants to come true.
__________
Koutarou is an idiot. A very much drunk idiot that is starting to have a headache. He’s sitting on the floor of the bathroom, but he doesn’t know how long it has been. He’s just sitting in front of the mirror, looking without really seeing his reflection, wondering why he feels miserable.
This is a lie, he knows why; it’s because he’s an idiot.
It seems that it has been a while since he disappeared from the party, since Kuroo is now knocking at the door, asking if everything’s alright. But Koutarou is drunk and his head is spinning, so no, he’s not alright. She groans very loudly, and almost sobs as he feels his throat itching. He doesn’t get why he wants to cry right at that moment, but he is tired, in pain, and very much disoriented.
Kuroo opens the door, and kneels in front of him. Koutarou can’t help it, he smiles. It’s been a while since he has seen Kuroo, months have passed since they last saw them, and tonight is the first time they see each other again since he moved out. Koutarou is happy that Kuroo is here.
Kuroo chuckles, “You don’t look that bad, just a little pale.”
“Wrong! I’m in so much pain, Tetsu, if only you knew.” Koutarou dramatically sings, slowly flopping on the floor.
“Would lay down and talk help?” Kuroo smiles, putting his hand on Koutarou’s forehead.
Koutarou feels dizzy, it’s a bit weird, really. The touch is light and warm, and he wants nothing else than to hold the hand on his cheeks and sigh, feeling like the world is holding him. Kuroo feels like that; a warm hold that makes you feel like home, like you are the most precious thing in the universe.
Koutarou nods.
Kuroo sits down, back against the wall, and taps on his tights, prompting Koutarou to lay down properly. And Koutarou does. As soon as he is settled, Kuroo’s hand finds his hair and plays gently with it.
It’s too much and not enough at the same time. Koutarou has spent almost four months missing this, the touch, the deep and calm voice and the side smile. He is delighted to find it again, thrilled to have his Kuroo at his side.
No. Not his Kuroo. Kuroo.
Koutarou hasn’t given up on his best friend, though. He is closer to his dreams, closer to winning everything, but Kuroo is still far away. Too far, for his own taste, even if he is just here, slipping his fingers through his hair and asking him what is wrong gently.
“I want the stars,” Koutarou answers, looking at both of them through the mirror. Kuroo’s head is leaning against the wall, his eyes are closed. He is pretty.
“Hm,” Kuroo flicks an eye open to Koutarou and smiles, “how do you count on having them?”
“I’ll jump really high.” Koutarou extends his hand, and grabs the air. He almost feels the star in his hand, shining, burning. “And catch them. I’ll hold them close to my heart. My heart is warm and big, like the sun, they’ll like it and will gravitate towards it.” He pauses, still looking at Kuroo, always looking at Kuroo. “Do you think it’s stupid?”
Kuroo shakes his head, a finger curling around a strand of hair, eyes closing peacefully again. “No. I actually think you deserve them. The stars. You deserve all of them.”
Koutarou’s heart swells, it vibrates in its cage, flowering, growing, expanding. His head stops spinning, but his heart stops beating too, it takes all his breath away and damn — Koutarou is in love. Koutarou is so in love.
He wants to kiss Kuroo right there, to take his breath away, just like Kuroo took his. He wants to cherish Kuroo with all his might, dedication and commitment, to take care of him as if he was the very only treasure of this universe. And maybe he is, maybe he is.
“I want the moon too.” Koutarou murmurs.
This time, Kuroo scoffs, and looks at him. “How are you taking it?”
And Koutarou is drunk. Koutarou is stupid. He is drunk in love and stupidly enamoured. He wants everything, but he wants Kuroo first.
He takes Kuroo’s face between his hands, and Kuroo stops breathing. Kuroo just looks at him, expressionless, waiting. Waiting for what, Koutarou doesn’t know. He licks his lips, and Kuroo’s face feels delicious between his hands, as if he’s holding a gem, cold but magnificent.
“Like this,” Koutarou whispers finally, and Kuroo’s eyes close again. It’s painful, Koutarou can see the hurt behind Kuroo’s eyelids, he feels the painful breath Kuroo takes in, and how his hands stop playing with his hair.
Kuroo doesn’t believe it. He doesn’t believe that he is the most beautiful being that earth could ever have, that his presence alone is a blessing. And that hurts Koutarou more than anything. He wishes Kuroo would see himself like Koutarou sees him; like a miracle. But Kuroo doesn’t, and even if it’s been months since they saw each other, Kuroo hasn’t changed.
Koutarou knows the song by heart now. Kuroo is going to close himself, put distance between them and think a lot, think too much. Koutarou hates it. So he brings back his hands for himself and goes back to looking through the mirror.
See, it’s like this; Koutarou looks in the mirror and sees. He sees the candle fade a bit, and a piece of Koutarou’s heart fades away with it.
________
Being an adult is complicated, draining. His mother had warned him several times when he was still a teenager, but Koutarou didn’t listen. Blinded by freedom, by responsibilities and his pursuit of his dreams, Koutarou had jumped into adulthood too early, too soon. He doesn’t regret it, after all he’s now playing in a great team, has his own apartment, and earns his own money.
But being an adult also meant dealing with tons of things at once, not having the time to deal with his own feelings, and the worst about all of it, was not having time for his friends.
Hearing Kuroo crying over the phone, unable to breathe or stop, incapable of even telling Koutarou what was wrong in the first place broke Koutarou’s heart into pieces. He had stayed more than thirty minutes, trying to calm his friend, to help him, in vain. Nothing works long enough for Kuroo to stop crying, as if he has been holding back tears since infancy and is only now able to let them out. Koutarou hates it, how helpless he feels, standing in his room, the phone glued to his ear.
So Koutarou does the first thing he can do. He buys a train ticket and hops in the first one, no matter how long it takes to join Kuroo in Tokyo, no matter how busy he actually is, or how many responsibilities he has. He couldn’t leave Kuroo alone like this.
That’s how he found himself ringing at Kuroo’s door at eleven PM, soaked to the bones for having run from the train station to his friend’s apartment.
“Bokuto?” Kuroo breathes out the moment he opens the door, confused. He looks up and down, brows furrowed. “What are you doing here so late?”
Koutarou shrugs, “You needed me.”
Kuroo closes his eyes painfully, sighing. Koutarou knew that somehow, coming all the way here would make Kuroo feel guilty, but he couldn’t help it. Not when he doesn’t know what happened.
“Can I come in?” Koutarou asks in a small voice.
Kuroo refuses to say anything before Koutarou takes a shower and changes into dry clothes. Koutarou does his best to finish quickly, even though he spends two minutes standing in front of the mirror, looking at and smelling Kuroo’s clothes a bit too tight for him. But this will do.
He finds Kuroo sitting on the sofa, head tilted to the back, looking without actually seeing at the ceiling. There are two cups of tea on the table, and a warm blanket next to him. Koutarou can’t help the shiver running down his spine. He has rarely seen Kuroo so distressed. It only happened two times, the first one was when he had to be separated from Kenma after high school, the second being when his grandmother passed away.
Koutarou sits slowly next to his friend, copying his posture. “Can you tell me what happened?”
It takes Kuroo decades to finally whisper, so quietly that Koutarou almost misses it.
“We-”
Kuroo starts, unable to finish, his voice is so fragile, so heavy that Koutarou is sure his friend is about to lose the use of his voice forever. He sees the single tear run on Kuroo’s cheeks, and Koutarou’s heart breaks at its turn. As beautiful as tears are, as shiny as they are, tears have no business coming out of Kuroo. He is too pure, too precious to cry.
He clears his throat.
“We broke up.”
Oh. Koutarou’s eyes grow wide, breath leaving his lungs as his heart stops beating, processing the news. He had almost forgotten about that. He bites his lip, not knowing what to do. Koutarou has helped Kuroo through many break-ups. Kuroo has his heart on his sleeve, maybe even more than Koutarou himself. He falls in love quickly, deeply, and never gets up. Well, almost. It takes him time, weeks, months, to finally be able to smile again. But he does, he always does. And Koutarou was always here to help.
This time, though, Koutarou doesn’t know what to do. Because this time, it’s not a simple love, it’s a love Kuroo and Miwa have been building for years. It’s two years of searching for each other, and three years of dating each other. Koutarou knows all of it, he has seen it from up close, has helped Kuroo conquer the heart of his beloved.
And Koutarou, Koutarou can’t be happy about the break-up, not when his best friend looks shattered.
“She said it was her fault,” Kuroo scoffs humorlessly. “That I had nothing to blame myself for.”
“She was right,” Koutarou answers hastily, voice raspy.
“Was she?” Kuroo finally lets go of the ceiling, looking at him instead.
As much as Koutarou likes looking at people's eyes, especially when they talk, he would have preferred for Kuroo to keep his focus elsewhere. He would have preferred not seeing the hurt, the guilt, the pain in Kuroo’s eyes.
“Why was she the one leaving me then? They always say it’s not my fault, but they’re leaving anyway.”
That’s the thing with Kuroo, he doesn’t think he’s worth people’s time, doesn’t think he’s interesting enough for people to stay at his side. And people, people are stupid. It’s their loss, truly, to leave someone as amazing as Kuroo behind, and Koutarou would love to say “too bad for them” and move on. But he can’t, because Kuroo can’t.
People leaving Kuroo shatter his life. It’s simple, Kuroo’s brain takes abandonment as grief. For him, there’s no difference; people leave him behind, and he has to go forward alone. So he grieves, he treats people that go as if they are dead. As if they leave, because of him, because he isn’t good enough to keep them at his side, isn’t good enough to save them.
Koutarou griefs too. He mourns, cries the fact that Kuroo can’t see what he should see; the fact that after all these years, Koutarou is still here. Koutarou, he, hasn’t let go. It hurts a little, so Koutarou can’t help himself, he murmurs, eyes locked on the ground.
“I never did. And I never will.”
There’s a pause, a heavy silence, before Koutarou has the guts to look up. Kuroo is smiling sadly at him, looking at him with a tenderness that makes his inside flutter, his heart miss a beat, and his breath itch. The pain in Kuroo’s eyes stays the same, but Koutarou can see the glint of pity, of compassion.
Because Kuroo knows, has always known.
Koutarou can’t bear it, he hates that look on Kuroo. So he gets up, walking to the kitchen to come back with a dozen bottles of alcohol, putting them all on the table. Because the only thing he can do against Kuroo’s gaze is distract them both.
“We can’t deal with that sober, maybe we’ll get better answers drunk.”
This, to Koutarou’s relief, pulls out a laugh out of Kuroo, who shakes his head, accepting the bottle Koutarou hands him. Both of them know it’s not the best solution, they know it won’t solve anything if not for the immediate sadness, but that is already something they don’t want to waste. So they drink, in silence for the most part of it, giggling for the other part.
But of course, the break is short. A few hours later they find themselves sitting on the floor, back to the sofa, heads resting on each other’s shoulders, talking. Kuroo is talking about Miwa, all the things she did for him, and what he did for her, her taste, her family.
Although Koutarou knows it all already, he listens. He listens to Kuroo bragging about that time he had won a bet against her, and dyed her hair purple as a dare. Or that time he had felt like the luckiest man on earth as Miwa had convinced his boss to give him two weeks, so they could fly to Russia. Koutarou knows that fact already, because he had been the one Miwa had texted to know about the different places Kuroo wanted to visit.
He hums when Kuroo talks about the projects he had, about the apartment he had been hunting for the both of them, planning on living together, and promising a marriage that was supposed to happen a few years later. He cries about Maëko, the cat they had both adopted, that Miwa had insisted on Kuroo to keep, but that Kuroo knew he couldn’t take care of without her.
And Koutarou listens, because what else can he do?
No matter how broken his heart is, no matter how painful it is to listen to a still very smitten Kuroo, his friend is, and will always be, first. Koutarou wants the world, but he will put Kuroo’s happiness before everything.
“I’m not sure anyone will love me as much as I love them.” Kuroo sighs, passing a trembling hand in his hair.
Koutarou hums silently, frowning. “Probably.” He continues, explaining before Kuroo gets offended. “I’m not sure anyone is capable of loving someone more than you can. You are deeply invested in people, Kuroo. I don’t want to ruin your hopes, but I would bet anything that no one is capable of love as much as you.” He breathes out, scratching his cheek. “Just know that some people try though. Some people love you as much as they can.”
There’s a beat, a silence, that brings Koutarou to straighten up to see Kuroo’s face. They’re a few centimeters away, and if there weren't two liters of alcohol in Koutarou’s blood right now, his heart would have probably stopped beating. When Kuroo talks again, Koutarou can feel his breath on his skin. It tickles, it burns, Koutarou doesn’t know if he’s falling straight to hell or rising to heaven.
“What is there in me that you cherish so much?” He asks in a murmur, curious and doubting Koutarou’s love.
Oh, how Koutarou has waited for this question all his life. He can list everything that he knows about Kuroo, because everything about him that Koutarou knows, Koutarou loves. The way Kuroo kicks the point of his shoes two times after putting them on to make sure they’re in place, the way he twirls a strand of hair around his finger when he’s thinking too much, or when he bites his cheeks when he refrains himself from laughing at Koutarou’s stupidity.
He can talk for hours about the weird look Kuroo gives to his phone after a phone call to make sure he hung up correctly. Or the way Kuroo never checks the mirror for more than thirty seconds in the morning, just enough to make sure his clothes aren’t crumpled, but not too long so he starts having an intense debate with his mind about his body. Koutarou can write a whole book about all the stupid, silly little details and fun fact Kuroo told him about his life, and make an ongoing series of Kuroo’s expressions and their meaning.
There's so much to love about Kuroo, so much to appreciate, and the worst crime on earth would be not taking the time to bless and love all that makes Kuroo who he is. So in the same breath, Koutarou answers;
“I cherish all of you. I am terribly sorry that you don’t see the beauty that resides in and out of you, but I will tell you every day, every night, how bright you shine.”
It’s a promise, a confession. Koutarou knows, but he doesn’t care, he’s not ashamed, he’s not embarrassed, he loves his best friend, rightfully so. And Kuroo is broken, Kuroo has dreamed about love for too long, has wished it too many times, has skimmed it. He is weak, weak to love.
So he takes Koutarou’s cheek in one hand, tenderly, lovingly. It’s not the love Koutarou is looking for, but it’s a love he’s willing to accept. It’s only when their lips are one centimeter away, both of their eyes closed, that Koutarou speaks, voice breaking under the emotion.
“Testu,” he whispers, and he feels the shiver running on Kuroo through the tip of his fingers pressed against his friend's arm. “You’re drunk.”
“I wish,” Kuroo starts, and his lips graze Koutarou’s, sending him to the edge, “I loved you half as much as you love me.”
Koutarou wants to cry. His heart breaks into so many pieces he isn’t sure he will be able to find all of them again, the bits of crystals sucked into nothingness. His throat is itchy, his hands tremble and he forgets how to breathe. Koutarou wonders how he’s still alive at that moment, as he has never felt closer to death.
But Koutarou, Koutarou is stupid. Koutarou is in love. He knows they’re making a mistake, that Kuroo is heartbroken, drunk, and in need of love. So he smiles sadly, shakes his head, and dives into the biggest mistake of his life. One that he will never regret anyway.
“I know,” he answers, voice wavering, “but I’ll never ask you to.”
Their lips collide.
It’s soft, wet, with a strong taste of alcohol. But neither of them care, hands finding each other’s neck and playing with their hair, hot lips devouring the other. It feels both wrong and good in all places, it burns Koutarou’s skin, and he can’t know if it’s desire or pain. It feels forbidden, but Koutarou is ready to welcome the devil for those lips to stay against his for all eternity.
Between two kisses, Kuroo asks, “Can you say it?”
Between two kisses, Koutarou’s heart becomes irreparable.
He says anyway, because Kuroo deserves to hear it, because if no one else wants to admit, he will, a hundred times.
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“I love you.”
“Again.”
“Kuroo…”
“Please.”
“I love you.”
__________
Koutarou wants it all.
He has never been closer to having the world, but never been so far from having his world.
__________
Eventually, Kuroo heals, he accepts, and he moves forward. Towards his own dreams. And Koutarou sits behind, and watches with enamored eyes, a goofy smile, and a huge pride, as Kuroo, freshly employed at the JVA Volleyball raises his drink to his own success.
__________
“Don’t be so greedy,” his mother often said.
“Live in the present,” his dad would add.
As much as Bokuto is a diligent boy, he is glad that those are the only two pieces of advice his parents gave him that he didn’t listen to. If it wasn’t for his faith, and hunger, he wouldn’t be standing on that court today, crushed by arms and people, his ears ringing from the victory chants.
They won. All his teammates are laughing, crying and jumping over him, the one who sealed the fate of the match. Koutarou can’t feel the adrenaline build up in him, too shocked to even realize. It feels like years before he can breathe and hear again, and then, it downs on him. They won. He won.
They won the match together, as a team, but that very night, Koutarou had won something even better, that no one could ever take away from him; the feeling of accomplishing his dream. Tears gathered in his eyes and he finally screamed, jumping with the others, emotions overwhelming him and overflowing from him.
He did it. He touched his dream, took it between his hands, and played in an international volleyball team. He reached the sky and the stars, and found his place between them.
“Bo!” Kuroo shouts from across the court a few minutes after, waving his very long arms at him. He’s wearing a volleyball tie, with a suit and his volleyball shoes. He looks good and stupid at the same time.
And it’s been decades since Koutarou has seen him (maybe he’s exaggerating a little, but still) so Koutarou can’t help himself. He runs at full speed towards Kuroo as if he hasn’t been playing volleyball for more than two hours and jumps at his best friend, who catches him. Well, tries to catch him.
Koutarou is a ball of energy and muscle, and as strong as Kuroo is, nothing could have prevented him from falling at Koutarou’s attack. They fall on their back, air leaving Kuroo’s body as they both chuckle, too happy to care about the pain of the impact.
“Did you see me?” Koutarou yelled right next to Kuroo’s ear, afraid that his friend couldn’t hear him because of the noisy gym. Kuroo winces, groaning.
“We’ll if I didn’t see it, I surely heard it. No need to scream any more, I’m right here.”
Warmth spreads in Koutarou’s chest, and he straightens a bit, putting both hands at the sides of Kuroo’s face to look at him. “Yes, you’re here.”
Kuroo smiles, “Of course I am. I told you I would.”
“Tetsu,” Koutarou croaks, realization hitting him again, so hard this time that tears gathered in his eyes, face distorted by the overwhelming emotions surfacing. “I did it.” He cries, wiping the tears away. “I did it.”
Kuroo’s smiles turn so fond, Koutarou melts, and when Kuroo reaches for his face, cupping his cheeks and looking at him with so much pride, Koutarou bursts into tears, burying his head between Kuroo’s neck.
“Yes, Bo. You did it. I’m proud of you.”
The words put so much warmth in his heart that Koutarou realizes only now how much he had wanted to hear it all these years. He feels relieved, he feels complete. Koutarou has always known that his dreams would come true, but still, living it, experiencing it, after chasing it for so many years, is a feeling that can’t be topped.
It takes him a few minutes to calm down, matching his breath with Kuroo’s and inhaling Kuroo’s perfume until the headache flies away. He only stands up when a familiar voice calls for him, helping Kuroo up too.
“Congrats Bokuto-san.”
Koutarou beams at the sight of his friend, and he opens his arms, welcoming Akaashi in a warm embrace. “Akaashi! You’re here too!”
“I would miss that for nothing in the world.” Akaashi smiles, tilting his head. “I hope you’re celebrating this rightfully.”
“Yes!” Koutarou exclaims, delighted that his two best friends will spend the night with him, celebrating his success. “Tsum-tsum said I could invite anybody, so you’re both welcome to come!”
Akaashi nods, thanking him. “Well, we’ll let you finish with the press and get change, and we’ll see you at the party.”
Koutarou smiles, heart beating fast and face warm, both from the effort and the happiness of having his friends at his sides. He still can’t believe all of this is true, it feels surreal, impossible. He looks, as his friends walk away, back to the crowd, and feels his heart swell.
And if he notices how Akaashi slides his hand into Kuroo’s and leans against his shoulder, Koutarou doesn’t show anything. He turns around, smiles, and shoves the bittersweet feeling inside; he still has something to be happy about and doesn't want to ruin everything.
Koutarou has come to terms with reality; not all dreams are meant to come true, and Kuroo is a fever dream that he couldn’t and will never touch.
__________
“- and mine was pretty cool actually. It smelled like flowers, so I didn’t mind posing for it though it did feel weird at first. Tsum-tsum is a natural, you should have seen him, he smiled effortlessly and looked so good as if he had done that all his life, you know what I mean?”
Koutarou turns his head to Kuroo to find his friend looking at him already, smiling softly. Kuroo hums silently, nodding to tell Koutarou he can go on.
“So Omi and I were like two black sheep,” Koutarou continues, turning back to the stars and hands moving hastily to highlight his words. “It’s not like we looked bad, but the pictures were so stiff!”
“I don’t think you could look bad even if you wanted to,” Kuroo comments, and Koutarou looks at him again.
They’ve been talking for a while, laying on the floor of Koutarou’s balcony under the stars. Koutarou is happy that Kuroo asked if he could pass by. It’d been a while since the last time they saw each other, and he missed having his friend by his side.
Koutarou was afraid at first that something was wrong; Kuroo rarely asked to come to his house unprompted late in the night. But he arrived with a smile on his face, and they’ve been talking easily as usual for hours, so everything is fine. Koutarou guesses Kuroo missed him just as much. It feels nice.
“Well, yeah, that too.” Koutarou agrees, shrugging. “But I don’t think I’ll model for anything again.” He frowns, turning back to the sky. “I mean, why do they even ask us in the first place? They’re models for that, right? We’re just volleyball players, we don’t just-”
“I love you.”
“transform… into…” Koutarou stops altogether, voice lost. He tenses up, not daring to turn around, keeping his eyes on the stars as his heart stops beating too. “What did you say?” He murmurs.
Kuroo clears his throat, and Koutarou can see him fidgeting in his peripheral vision. “I think I’m in love with you.”
He frowns. Maybe he is imagining things. It’s probably too late in the night, he’s hallucinating, hearing things, and has been talking too much his brain turned to goo. Kuroo is unusually quiet at his side, and Koutarou doesn’t dare turn around yet.
See, a few weeks ago Koutarou turned his biggest dream into reality. He touched the sky, floated around stars, shined as bright as them. A few weeks ago, Koutarou experienced his most wonderful success. But a few weeks ago, Koutarou came to terms with one of the hardest truths he had to understand.
Running behind a star is useless; he doesn’t know if the star is actually still alive, or if it is long dead, only the light of it subsisting. Koutarou has stopped chasing stars that seemed unattainable. Koutarou has stopped chasing Kuroo Tetsurou. He has come to terms with the fact that Kuroo will never love him equally, will never be on the same page as him.
Koutarou has long understood that his love for Kuroo would forever remain unrequited.
Koutarou is fine with that. He learned to be.
Kuroo shifts at his side, sitting up. Koutarou follows.
“I’ve been thinking a lot lately,” Kuroo starts, looking at his hands. “You know how my past relationships have been pretty disastrous?”
Koutarou doesn’t know what to answer. He’s frozen in place, lost. He actually doesn’t think Kuroo’s relationships were disastrous though. After all, Kuroo was the one between the both of them who actually got into relationships, some lasting for more than two years.
“I’ve always tried to make them fall in love with me,” Kuroo continues, not waiting for an answer. “I tried to make sure they stayed, when I should have done nothing of the sort. I shouldn’t have worked for people to love me, I should have worked on myself to love the right people.”
“Tetsu, please…” Koutarou is trembling, voice shaking. His heart is beating so fast in his chest, he hates it. He hates it; the hope creeping his way in his heart. He hates how fast it’s going to be crushed. “It’s not funny. Don’t play with that.”
Kuroo’s gaze is nothing but hurt and pity.
“I’ve always known you loved me, you weren’t trying to hide it either. But I just recently realized what that love meant, how strong it was, and how much of an idiot I was for not acknowledging it.”
Koutarou’s heart sinks to his stomach, and he retorts bitterly, “You’re not in love with me if what’s motivating you is the love I have for you. I know you need love, but this-”
“No! It’s not!” Kuroo cuts him off quickly, slightly panicked, and hides his head between his hands, groaning. “I told Akaashi I was going to fuck this up.”
“What does Akaashi have to do with this?” Koutarou recoils, a wave of unwanted and unnamed feelings overwhelming him. He doesn’t know what to do about them. “Kuroo, what are you doing?”
“Wait.” Kuroo says, still not looking up. “Just, give me two seconds, please. I just have to calm down and think rationally.”
So Koutarou shuts up. But even then, he asks himself how could Kuroo focus on anything with the noise his own heart and brain are making. Koutarou surely can’t focus. He feels dizzy, doesn’t really know what to believe or how to react. He has learnt for so long not to let hope in, to push the feelings aside and make himself a reason; Kuroo isn’t made for him. But as Kuroo is sitting in front of him, offering his dream on a golden plate, it is hard not to let hope flourish. He is frightened.
Kuroo finally looks up. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I was an asshole and played with your feelings. But I am really falling in love with you. And I know it’s not half of what you felt for me, but I want to take care of that love, I want to make it grow, because I want to love you as much as you deserve.” He takes a deep breath, voice wavering, eyes softening. “Now, if your feelings for me have changed, one word from you and I’ll give up, I’ll apologize for hurting you again and being selfish. But… But if you still have the same affection for me as you did, please tell me right now, because your silence is driving me insane.”
__________
Koutarou is just human. A bit different from everyone, but everyone is, right? He’s not flawless, he’s actually full of them. He can’t barely remember anything, or gets distracted too easily. He’s naive, not in a way that puts him into dangerous situations, but in a way that puts his heart in the first line in war.
Koutarou has a family, friends, and hobbies.
Koutarou has dreams.
Playing volleyball on the beach in Rio with Hinata and Oikawa. Making the best gift for his little sister this year, so he can be the favourite sibling. And then brag about it for the rest of his life to his older sisters. Learn how to do a parallel park without crying. Beat Omi’s best spike tempo. Travel to Europe. Go skydiving. Get a tattoo. Become a husband. And maybe a dad. With Kuroo.
Even if Koutarou has everything, he still dreams. They're not big ones, and won’t take a lifetime to realize, but they shape his life. And nothing will make him stop dreaming.
Because Koutarou is greedy. Even when he has it all.
The world and Kuroo. Kuroo Tetsurou.