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'FUCKING,' Koutarou says, running his hands through his hair for basically the fifty-seventh time, 'I MEAN I DIDN'T REALLY EXPECT HER TO STAY FOR THE REST OF THE SHOOT.'
'I don't know why you didn't expect that,' comes the crackling voice on the other end of the line. 'She worked on the costumes. Who else is going to check the fittings, Count Dracula?'
'Speak not of him,' Koutarou says darkly. 'That feline ruins my life thrice a week.'
'Fascinating. Anyway, this has been fun, but you're going to have to cut this call now. I have to study.'
'Study what, nursery rhymes? Statistics? What's your major anyway?'
'English literature,' Ushijima says coldly. 'If you will allow me.'
Koutarou hears a beep that sounds rather final and lowers his phone, looking at it sadly. Call with Sugarplum: 01:56 minutes. It is always in the times of greatest adversity that all his so-called friends seem to abandon him, he's remarked. Sure, they're around when he's got his camera out, they're around when their drunk asses want to get into Vertigo, but the moment it comes to one of Koutarou’s many fated Things That Fuck All My Shit Up (including but not limited to God of Disc Jockeying Akaashi Keiji; the wrath of Tanaka Saeko that should be faced by, like, fifteen men and a bulldozer; Count Dracula; and those occasions when Kuroo loses whatever little shit he has together on most days and bakes a hundred and fifty croissants and goes around giving them out to the community) everyone seems to have other shit to do. It's not fair in the least, and Koutarou wants to do many things about these unfortunate occurrences when they unfortunately occur, but usually at that time he is occupied with the greater unfortunate occurrence unfolding in his life: this particular one being the fact that Tanaka Saeko wishes to stay and observe his Leyendecker photoshoot while he conducts it.
Me [10:34]
ITS JUST THAT IMNOT SURE I WANT HER AND TSUKKI IN THE SAME ROOM?? AND KUROO TOO
Sugarplum [10:35]
Look, Bokuto. She is the person who is providing the costumes for your shoot, as I explained to you when you were ranting equally ungracefully on the phone. She has every right to remain on the premises and see how it goes.
Me [10:35]
BUT HER AND TSUKKI IN THE SAME ROOM. AND KUROO TOO
Sugarplum [10:37]
I am going to study now. May God be with you.
With all due respect to God, Koutarou sincerely doubts the old man's ability to handle whatever shit category that encompasses the idea of Tanaka Saeko, Kuroo Tetsurou and Tsukishima Kei being enclosed in the same space, all with various reasons to be mad at Koutarou. Still, he is a man of faith and optimism, and a hero who brings light even in the darkest of darknesses because his phone is great and has that application that turns the camera flash into a torch and shit. He can handle this. He can absolutely handle this.
'OPEN UP, ASSHOLE, IT'S RAINING OUTSIDE!'
'I'm going to die,' Koutarou says to God.
●●●
From the moment he stepped out into the world, Kozume Kenma has always had to deal with a lot of nonsense from other human beings. This does not go to say that he thinks all human beings carry with them a certain amount of nonsense (Akaashi Keiji, the disc jockey at Vertigo, for example, does not...and neither does the boy who writes the angry reviews about things) but rather that he somehow manages to attract to himself a great percentage of the human population who do, in fact, carry with them a certain amount of nonsense (this amount usually being great).
Bokuto Koutarou is one such human being. Everything from his hair (bleached and dyed grey in streaks) to his eyes (light-coloured like Kenma’s own, but with an added measure of terrifying almost-luminosity) to his smile (so wide that he seems prepared, at all times, to eat a country) to the way he moves in general, speaks of a perhaps godly amount of nonsense being carried around by that one six-foot body. Bokuto also enjoys spreading this nonsense to the populace by means of his voice, which he employs loudly and emotively on occasion, such as right now.
'I MEAN,' he says, just barely avoiding stepping on Count Dracula's tail for the umpteenth time (really, it's no wonder the creature hates him) in his pacing. 'IT'S LIKE I'VE NEVER HAD SUCH A BAD DATE IN MY LIFE. IT WAS SO BAD THAT I COULDN'T EVEN LAUGH IT OFF. I, THE MOST LIFE-AFFIRMING—'
Me [11:16]
u know, one time bokuto stubbed his toe on kuroo's nightstand.
Shouyou [11:16]
!!! AND THEN
Me [11:17]
he cried for 10 minutes.
'THE MOST LIFE AFFIRMING PERSON ON THIS CAMPUS,' Bokuto says. 'I COULDN'T LAUGH IT OFF. IT WAS THAT BAD, KENMA.'
'I am sure it wasn't that terrible,' Kenma says. 'You just have an incredible ability of overreaction.'
'I DO NOT OVERREACT.'
Shouyou [11:18]
OH NO AND THEN
Me [11:19]
kuroo started crying too. but mostly because he was laughing so hard.
Bokuto's voice has gone low now, and Kenma recognises that as the sign of an oncoming low period. 'And then,' he says softly, settling down cross-legged on the floor (right next to Count Dracula), 'he asked me what kind of music I like.'
Upon a cursory glance, Kenma doesn't understand the problem with this, primarily because it is an obvious question for a disc jockey to ask to break the roughly three-kilometre-deep ice Bokuto must have jammed between them during their first meeting, and secondarily because Bokuto's music taste might be one of the few things about him that are not imprinted with nonsense. However, after reviewing the concept again, Kenma does understand the multitude of problems that could arise from it.
'Please tell me you did not say something nonsensical in reply,' he says, but he is already reaching for his notebook that he must unfortunately keep in easy access, having to deal with the likes of Bokuto and Kuroo every other day.
'I told him,' Bokuto says in a half-whisper matching the low hissing sound that Count Dracula is now making in response to Bokuto's heavy hand on his head, 'I told him about the Russian error page, Kenma.'
Kenma, in general, does not react openly to things. He doesn't have to work on that, thankfully, because that would be too much effort. He employs this particular natural gift and only hums as he adds another strike to the Bokuto Koutarou Belongs in a Museum tally.
'Let's just head to your shoot,' he says, closing the little black notebook (one of many).
'It's the morning and I'm still to live my day,' Bokuto says, displaying ironically the knowledge of music other than the Russian error page. Count Dracula's hissing reaches a crescendo and he launches himself at Bokuto's face.
'Yeah,' Kenma says. 'That.'
●●●
'Just so you know,' Tsukki says the moment Koutarou enters the studio, 'he still hasn't returned my headphones.'
'Tetsu,' Koutarou sighs. 'Don't be that supervillain bird. Give his headphones back.'
'He forgot to ask for them,' Kuroo says, raising his eyebrows and smirking. 'He neglected to mention that part. Also, what the fuck happened to your face?'
'It was really early in the morning,' Tsukki hisses. 'I was tired. You know who tired me out? You.'
'You know how that sounds, right?'
'Now, now,' Koutarou hears from behind him, and immediately clams up. 'The boys been fighting while mama was away?'
'He still hasn't returned my headphones,' Tsukki says, in the same intonation and rhythm that he said it before in, as if it's a sentence he's fucking practiced fifty times. 'He said he would and he hasn't.'
'He forgot to ask for them.'
'He tired me out.'
'That still sounds wrong.'
'HI,' Koutarou says to Saeko when she steps up to him. 'HEY. YOU ARE HERE AGAIN. THE SUITS.'
'The suits indeed,' she says, holding up the two bags. 'I decided to leave the fancier two in the car because who knows when you'll even be done with these.'
Koutarou almost opens his mouth to say thank you for your sparkling confidence but seeing that it's Saeko, that sparkling confidence could easily turn into sparkling other things, for example nearby pitchers of ice, so he decides to skip his joke and make a weird laugh that sounds something between a frightened dog and a tea kettle.
'Right you are!' he says. 'The. The black ones, then. Yes.'
'When's your makeup girl coming over, by the way?' Saeko asks as she lays the bags out on the table and starts to unzip one. 'I can go pick her up if you want.'
Koutarou almost opens his mouth to say I'm not sure her faint heart would survive your driving but seeing that it's Saeko, he isn't sure his faint heart would survive her response, so he decides to guard his silence and smile in what he hopes is a gentle, yet discouraging manner.
Just then, the tinny music of that game Kenma's always playing on his phone fills Koutarou’s guarded silence, followed by the boy himself. He isn't looking up from his screen, of course, only humming in response to Kuroo's greeting. Koutarou’s clears his throat and turns away— he isn't speaking to Kenma because that fucking shrimp fucking cat of his decided that Koutarou’s face was an ideal scratching post and it's Kenma's fault for owning that thing in the first place— just in time to catch Tsukki saying, again, 'He still hasn't returned my headphones.'
Koutarou isn't sure how an anthropology and economics major came into contact with each other outside of Vertigo, so he assumes that they came into contact at Vertigo and decides to go with it. At any rate, his life is already shot to shit if Tsukki and Kenma are on he still hasn't returned my headphones basis. His life is already shot to shit since Saeko, Kuroo, Tsukki and Kenma are in the same room in the first place.
It is on these occasions of new deep shit category inaugurations that God, the old man, often likes to add to the amusement of whatever assholes are watching Koutarou’s life (probably Sawamura and Sugawara, those assholes). Like Akaashi being the one, of all people, to find his camera. And Sawamura being the one, of all people, to have a not-official-yet life-partner who's friends with Akaashi. That sort of thing.
Today, God demonstrates by orchestrating a duet of animalistic yelling in the doorway of the studio.
'SAEKO,' says whoever the fuck it is, 'WE'RE HERE.'
The voice actually hits Koutarou’s a moment later, and at this point he just wants to shove his tripod down his throat and call it a day. If that isn't—
'Ryuu! Yuu!' Saeko calls out, beaming. 'Come on in!'
'I'm going to die,' Koutarou says to God.
●●●
'He still hasn't returned my headphones' is the first thing Tsukishima says to him when he enters the studio.
Kenma sighs, frowns and looks at Kuroo. 'Tetsurou,' he says. 'Don't be a hungry Count Dracula. Return his headphones.'
'Okay,' Kuroo says, standing up with a slightly murderous expression on his face. 'How come everyone keeps overlooking the fact that he forgot to ask for them?'
Kenma, in his defence, had not actually known that Tsukishima forgot to ask for the headphones, but because he is a good friend and mostly does not care about the details, he lets this go and focuses on the actual fact of Tsukishima forgetting to ask for the headphones. He knows, through Hinata, how important those things are to Tsukishima, and so he knows how weird it is for him to overlook anything related to them. The only explanation is—
'SAEKO,' cries a loud voice from behind him, making him jump, 'WE'RE HERE.'
'Ryuu! Yuu!' It is only then that Kenma’s attention is drawn to the lady standing near the table placed against one of the walls of the studio. Saeko, he presumes, is tall, with a bob, bleached lighter than Tsukishima's but not as nonsensically as Bokuto's, multiple piercings on her ears, an ensemble of red and black for her outfit, and in general a terrifying aura. 'Come on in!'
Kenma turns around slowly to look at the newcomers, and promptly wishes he hadn't, because he’s definitely heard of this pair. The shorter of the two is roughly his and Shouyou's height, with hair that he can only compare to one of those chocolate brioches that Kuroo so detests making, and a bunch of piercings on his face as black as Saeko's. Kenma takes a moment to be terrified of this individual and moves his gaze to the taller one, also promptly wishing he hadn't. If possible, this person is even scarier, with a bit of a dark, dark mohawk and a lot of ferociousness on his face for apparently no reason.
'NOT THESE TWO,' Bokuto says, and when Kenma turns back to look at him, his eyes even wider than usual. 'WHO INVITED YOU TWO.'
'We invited,' the taller one says, striding inside, 'ourselves. I wanted to see what Saeko's up to.'
Bokuto turns to Saeko desperately, and Kenma catches a type of hesitation on his face that indicates that Saeko might be one of the Things That Fuck All of Bokuto's Shit Up (Kenma has three on his list so far: Akaashi Keiji, the disc jockey at Vertigo; Count Dracula; and a distressed Kuroo). He makes note of it on his phone to add to his notebook later; this must have developed over the summer. Predictably, Bokuto says nothing in protest, and turns around to glare at the intruders instead.
'You have sibling privileges,' he says, 'but pull one thing. One, Tanaka.'
The taller one, Tanaka, raises his hands with fake innocence on his face. 'Who, us? We're just going to watch, promise.'
‘You too, Nishinoya.’
‘Promise!’
That doesn't sound very honest to Kenma, but he's already looking around for the comfiest corner of the studio. His vision narrows in on a plug point under Saeko's table and he makes for it. Just then, he catches a knock on the door behind him, much unlike the manner in which Tanaka and his friend chose to enter.
'I hope I'm not late!'
If I don't turn around, I don't have to recognise the owner of the voice. I can just go sit under the table. I should just go sit under the table and text Shouyou.
'Who is that,' Tanaka's friend says in a tone that sends chills down to Kenma's very bones.
I should really just go sit under the table. And text Shouyou.
'Yachi,' Bokuto says, in absolute defeat. 'Hello.'
●●●
This one time, Koutarou and Kuroo had decided to marathon all the films of the Final Destination franchise. Somewhere along the nail gun incident in the third one, Kuroo had paused the playback on a particularly gore-y moment for the unfortunate victim, turned to Koutarou, and said in a voice not his own that perhaps they should stop watching the Final Destination films.
There are days in his life (most weekdays) when Koutarou regrets not following through with Kuroo's suggestion. While most of the aftereffects have vanished, there are times when the sound of popcorn, well, popping in the microwave scares the living shit out of him.
On other, very, very rare days, Koutarou feels that perhaps they needed to watch all of the Final Destination films in order to understand life and its workings better. To gain a new perspective not only on the implications of foreboding Bee Gees songs (indeed, for months after, Kuroo would lean over and whisper-sing there is someone walking behind you to Koutarou's utter terror) but also to determine how scared other individuals around them are at any given moment. A measuring scale, as it were.
In this moment, Koutarou, looking at Yachi Hitoka's face, can safely say that she has not only broken the scale, but is jumping around on the broken bits, shrieking her head off. Internally, of course. He can't really blame her though; if he walked in on Tanaka, Nishinoya, Saeko, Kuroo, Tsukki, Kenma and himself on a jolly rainy morning, he'd probably piss his pants too. Add to that the fact that it's Yachi, and he can only pray for her emotional well-being.
'I am sorry,' he says after his greeting. Yachi's horrorstruck face does not change in its horrorstruckness. 'Please come in.'
'Is this the makeup girl?' Saeko says from behind him. Yachi briefly makes eye contact with her and then looks at the the floor, nodding. Koutarou doesn't know what to do with his life. Everything is kind of paused, or moving in slow motion or something. He notices the details— the black hoop around Nishinoya's bottom lip, Tanaka's absolute fascination with Yachi's cuteness, Tsukki's arms folded over his chest as he glares at Kuroo's shoes, Kuroo's arms folded over his chest as he glares at Kenma, Kenma's eyes fixed on what must be a plug point-- but he doesn't want to do anything with them. He kind of doesn't want to respond to this situation right here. Maybe he can pack a bag and go into the mountains.
'So cute,' Saeko and Tanaka say at the same time. When they turn to look at each other, their eyes say murder.
Nishinoya's eyes say wait, what about me though. Tsukki's eyes say he still hasn't returned my headphones. Kuroo's eyes say I shouldn't be this annoyed by a freshman. Kenma's eyes say I am going to go sit under the table. Yachi's eyes say I want to go sit under the table.
'Yachi,' Tsukki says. 'Hey. You work with this guy, right? Have you seen a pair of—'
'Let's get to the makeup,' Kuroo sighs.
'I am going to die,' Koutarou says to God.
●●●
The area under the table, as it turns out, is the perfect vantage point from which to observe the chaos unfolding around him. Kenma has somehow made it there safely, crossing the gazes of Tanaka and Nishinoya and slipping casually behind Saeko's denim-clad legs to lean against the wall. From here, he can see everything from a comfortable distance and can avoid being involved in any of the activity. It's perfect.
Me [12:19]
i'm here at the shoot. everything is terrible
Shouyou [12:19]
!!!!!!! FIND A SAFE PLACE
Me [12:20]
i'm under the table. yachi is here
Shouyou [12:20]
D: !!!
The mirror, luckily, is right across the floor and perfectly positioned in Kenma's visual range. From the back, Kuroo's ridiculous hair looks even more ridiculous, as always. Yachi, setting out a few hundred makeup supplies with hands trembling visibly even from a distance, looks comically small next to him, especially with Tsukishima standing behind her and peering over her shoulder in what he probably thinks is an absolutely non-frightening manner.
'You have so many brushes,' he says, and Yachi basically jumps out of her skin.
'Y-y-y-y-yes,' she says, laughing. 'They— they're for different things.'
Directly in front of Kenma, Saeko and Bokuto are discussing the details of the suits. Or rather, Saeko is animatedly explaining the details of the suits while Bokuto is animatedly trying not to use words that contain more than one syllable. His left foot is tapping against the floor, though, so Kenma can tell that he isn't absolutely upset.
Me [12:59]
she's here for makeup. she finished kuroo's
Shouyou [13:00]
how does he look?????? take a pic
Me [13:02]
he looks very different
Me [13:02]
wait
Me [13:02]
i think tsukishima is having a heart attack
Shouyou [13:03]
!!!!!!!!????????
Kenma is not easily amused. Perhaps that means that he misses out on a lot of the fun of life and youth, but it doesn't bother him a lot because he doesn't equate contentment to amusement. However, once in a while life throws some things his way that startle a smile out of him, even a laugh sometimes. This is one of those things, because he might never have actually seen a human being look as affronted as Tsukishima does upon seeing Kuroo step out of the dressing room in the suit that Saeko made for him.
Coming to the defence of Tsukishima's taking of offence, Kenma remarks that Kuroo does, in fact, look more handsome than usual. His hair has been combed and gelled back (really, congratulations to the ladies for getting that done, and Tanaka for providing the gel) and the suit looks quite brilliant. The flower in his chest pocket is uncomfortably pretty. If it can make Kenma uncomfortable, he can easily understand why Tsukishima looks like someone stepped on his little toe repeatedly. With spiked shoes.
'Man,' Bokuto says, half in awe. 'Bro. Kuroo.'
Kuroo grins and spreads his arms, turns a slow circle. 'Right?'
'Actually,' Tsukishima begins, absolutely red-faced, 'I just remem—'
'Oh, no no,' Saeko says, and in one fluid movement she has him in a headlock and is wrestling him down onto the chair previously occupied by Kuroo, ignoring his squawks of protest. 'You're not getting out of here until you look like the guy in the thing.'
The guy in the thing, Kenma assumes, refers to the second character depicted in the Leyendecker painting that Bokuto wants to replicate. Kenma doesn't remember the painting perfectly, but the concept is pretty clear: men in suits and gelled-back hair. Getting Tsukishima to sit still for long enough to execute that sounds like an interesting project, but Saeko seems to be managing well enough, holding him in place while Yachi wipes his face and Nishinoya laughs loudly. He wishes he could take a picture, but he's at a very important point in his game and his thumbs have caught the rhythm. He wouldn't risk victory for the world, much less documenting the sight of Tanaka running his hands through Tsukishima's curls and cackling, as amusing as it is.
Me [13:42]
sorry, ya. they got tsukishima done too
Shouyou [13:42]
oooh!!! does he look nice??
Me [13:43]
this is...i need to take pictures. i'm going to text u later
Shouyou [13:43]
ok!!! ttyl
There are very few things Kenma would abandon a boss battle for. He decides, as he closes the game, that the little bit of electricity that just passed between Kuroo Tetsurou and Tsukishima Kei is one of them.
●●●
It actually takes Koutarou a full minute to recover from the sight of Kuroo and Tsukki all fucking dolled up for a shoot that he planned and visualised for weeks and worked hard to blackmail them into. It's almost as if he's a spectator to it himself and not the guy who fucking thought of the entire thing, that's how much the image knocks him out.
They're both in similar suits, just small differences here and there, and twin slicked-back hairstyles, dark and light and this is honestly all he ever fucking had in mind. No matter how dirty he had to do Tsukki for it, it's all worth the trouble of recording those three minutes and forty seven seconds of bubble butt just to see how regal he looks while glaring at an equally regal Kuroo.
'You guys,' Koutarou whispers, feeling his eyes burn. 'You guys...this is so beautiful.'
'Let's get this over with,' Tsukki says. 'Who's sitting where, what about the lighting, where's the—'
'You could have let me have a moment for ten more seconds,' Koutarou says. 'Ten more seconds, Tsukki. This is supposed to be my final project.'
'That you blackmailed me into helping you with.'
'Details. Get on the left chair.'
Koutarou originally intended to just fix the lighting himself (it's usually Kuroo who helps him with it) but since Tanaka and Nishinoya have so kindly decided to stick around and make his life into a hell even worse than his normal day-to-day existence, he puts them to the task. Surprisingly, they're actually helpful because it's like they're those little kids who actually shut up when shit gets serious. Even Saeko is sitting on the table, swinging her legs and barely missing Kenma's forehead with those demonic fucking heels of hers every time.
'Gloves in the right hand, Kuroo,' he says. 'Are you looking at the picture.'
'I'm sorry, your highness,' Kuroo snaps. 'Your fucking laptop is six feet away from me—'
'Use your youthful eyesight, what the fuck—'
'I— I can bring it closer,' Yachi stutters, then looks like she's immediately regretting her interruption. She's one of those people who can't handle more than two people looking at her at any given point, let alone an entire room of animals and Kenma. Well, Kenma's probably looking at his screen. But Kenma has eyes everywhere. Everywhere. 'S-sorry, I'm just g-gonna—'
'The laptop is already the closest it can be,' Tsukki says gently. 'Any closer and it'll mess with the photo.'
Koutarou blinks away the shock of hearing Tsukki talk in a voice that is not annoyed and registers the idea that there are people in the world (on campus, even) that do not annoy Tsukki. When he's done registering, he turns back to Kuroo, who's finally switched the fucking gloves.
'Okay, poses,' he says, stepping behind his camera. 'Tsukki, left elbow on the armrest.'
'It keeps slipping—'
'Don't put weight on it.'
'But I have to, he's putting weight on it!'
'Pretend to put weight on it.'
'How do you pretend to put weight on—'
'LIKE THIS,' Nishinoya says, placing his elbow on an (always) unsuspecting Yachi's shoulder and proceeding to, well, pretend to put weight on it. Yachi looks like she's half a centimetre away from bursting into the most hysterical session of crying that she's probably ever indulged in. 'You just kind of...lean forward. And hold it until your arm starts to hurt.'
'Can your arm start to hurt now?' Saeko says. 'The little girl is about to faint.'
Koutarou sighs a great sigh and turns back to the camera. 'Got it?'
'But that actually does hurt. You overestimate how much I care about this.'
'You underestimate the footage on my—'
'LEAN FORWARD,' Tsukki says. 'RIGHT. UNTIL IT STARTS TO HURT.'
And then— finally, finally, in one split moment the photo seems to come together. Kuroo's stance is perfect, Tsukki's fucking leaning forward, the gloves are catching the light the way he wants them to and Tsukki's long ass fingers are looking just as graceful as Koutarou knew they would. Even their glares soften out into the expressions he wants, and Koutarou thanks the old man watching over all of them for allowing him to have this moment. Now, if he could only make arrangements for Akaashi to magically forget the Russian error pa—
Kuroo cracks up.
'He's going to die,' Koutarou tells God.
●●●
Me [14:28]
i wish u were in town
Me [14:28]
this is amazing.
Shouyou [14:28]
did they kill each other??? did bokuto-san kill them???
Me [14:29]
this is so terrible. we are all going to die. bokuto was right
Shouyou [14:29]
????????? do u want a hug??
Shouyou [14:29]
u know somehow everyone just asks me for hugs. i don't know how it started. i dont mind tho!!! i like hugging people
Me [14:31]
u are small and cute so. we could hug next week maybe
Shouyou [14:31]
(´ ∀｀ ) ♡
Me [14:33]
( ・ ̫ ・ )
Me [14:35]
shouyou pls come back to town. this is so incredible
'I can't breathe,' Tanaka wheezes. 'Look at his fucking face—'
'We are all,' Bokuto says, pinching the bridge of his nose, 'looking at his fucking face, Tanaka. That's the point of this exercise. To look at his fucking face and take a picture of it. Sometime this year.'
Tsukishima is not happy about everyone looking at his face, clearly. Mostly because he is red all the way to his ears, pursing his lips together and looking at Kuroo like he would legitimately ship the boy off to Count Dracula after dousing him in fish oil.
'Stop laughing,' he says to Kuroo through gritted teeth. 'It's been ten minutes.'
'Ten minutes since the last laughing session, you mean,' Saeko offers. She's long since crossed her legs on the table, sparing Kenma's eyes from her pointed heels. 'Give him some credit, he's never lasted this long.'
'I can't help it,' Kuroo gasps out from between bursts of laughter. 'Look at his fucking face.'
Me [saved as draft]
hang on he doesn't do this usually
All at once, Bokuto seems to snap. Kenma isn't surprised at all; it's been coming since morning. He usually admires Bokuto's ability to hold out, but has also realised that there will always be a point when said ability breaks (however temporarily) and Bokuto enters a mood that can only be called the apocalypse is coming, and Bokuto is the only one who knows about it. That mood is now, apparently, because he stomps his foot, steps away from the tripod and throws himself down on the floor beside it.
'Fuck this,' he says. 'It's off. I'm going to fail the project anyway. Don't trust myself to take a good picture.'
Now, none of that is surprising, and Kenma only has to set off a mental timer of about ten minutes, after which Bokuto will get up, yell at a few people, and get back to work— but what is surprising is the shift of expression on Tsukishima's face. It turns from the blushing mess it previously was to an expression of such sincere, sinister serenity that Kenma can feel the temperature drop.
'Get up, please,' he says to Bokuto, then turns to Kuroo. 'Stop laughing, please.'
Yachi, who has steadily been inching her way to the table, finally joins him under it. Kenma waves to her.
'We're going to do this now,' Tsukishima says, in that same polite voice. 'Okay?'
Me [16:12]
They're almost done. Tsukishima is scary.
Shouyou [16:12]
You don't know the half of it.
Me [saved as draft]
wait, something strange just
Me [saved as draft]
oh
'Did you see that?' Yachi whispers.
'I saw that,' Kenma says.
Me [16:14]
we are having a sleepover when u come back. i have to tell u something.
●●●
'THIS ISN'T POSSIBLE,' Koutarou says. 'WHY IS HE HERE.'
One thing Koutarou never fails to appreciate is the volume and quality of Sawamura's laugh. One is powerfully high and the other is disgracefully low. Sawamura, when laughing, will always sound like a ruthless, cold creature who gives not a shit about the innocent mortals around him and will do literally fucking anything to get the last cookie from Kuroo's batch. Or, as Koutarou often likes to bring up, he (among others) might as well be that supervillain bird.
Sawamura is laughing that supervillain bird laugh right now. 'I mean, he's Suga's friend. Why wouldn't he be here?'
'WHY IS HE HERE TODAY? THIS EVENING? RIGHT NOW?'
'Because it's just not your fucking day, mate.' Sawamura finishes watering the last of Sugawara's creepy little plants and puts the can away. 'I mean, it's never your day. But this is just really not your day.'
'It's really, really, really not my day.' And indeed it's not: for reasons that Koutarou can't really come up with right now because he's losing his fucking shit on Sawamura's balcony, Akaashi Keiji is currently in the living room of the apartment the balcony of which he is losing his fucking shit on. Having tea with Sugawara. Tea.
'WHO EVEN DRINKS TEA.'
'Just because your liquid consumption is restricted to banana milk and tequila—'
'I HAVE SCRATCHES ON MY FACE.'
'It looks kind of hot, man, I don't know.'
'I MEAN— wait, what? It looks hot?' Koutarou turns to face Sawamura fully, and fixes the collar of his polo. 'Really? You sure?'
Sawamura gives him a thumbs-up. 'Go in there and show him the pictures.'
Koutarou swallows, and frowns, and swallows again and nods. 'Yeah. You know what? I'm just going to do that. I'm going to go in there, and say hi, and ask if he wants to see the pictures.'
'Good. Watch out for the— watch out— never fucking mind.'
●●●
Things That Fuck All of Bokuto's Shit Up
1. Akaashi Keiji, the disc jockey at Vertigo
2. Count Dracula
3. Seeing Kuroo upset
4. Tanaka Saeko
Slightly Unexplainable Things that Kuroo Does / Has Done
— when he's upset, sometimes he makes plain croissants but sometimes he makes chocolate ones
— he's really nice but tries not to be and then tries to show that he is really nice in spite of it all and sometimes it gives me a headache
— when Bokuto decides to do something ridiculous, he knows it's ridiculous and still joins him
— one time, Bokuto dared him to drink the water Aone was cleaning his paintbrushes in, and he did it
— he did that thing at Bokuto's Leyendecker photoshoot today
— really, what was that thing?
●●●
'It's lovely,' Akaashi says, and Koutarou refrains from saying some shit like YOU'RE lovely or some shit, and tries to breathe. 'Really, Bokuto-san.'
'That,' Koutarou says. 'yes. Thank you.'
It's kind of sad, but it's now, sitting a graceful foot away from Akaashi on the couch while Sawamura and Sugawara are probably in the bedroom laughing their asses off or making out or whatever, that he realises that technically, after the disaster that was their first meeting and trip to Le Petit Tool, he shouldn't really be nervous around Akaashi anymore. But Koutarou knows himself better than anyone else knows him (except for, like, Kuroo and Gecko Tooru) and he knows that there is no the worst is over when it comes to him. He should actually walk around wearing a T-shirt saying BY THE WAY THE WORST IS YET TO COME AND I DON'T KNOW WHEN IT'S COMING EITHER SO DON'T ASK ME ALSO HAPPY HOUR AT VERTIGO 9-10 PM. He's fully justified, by dint of being Bokuto Koutarou, in still being nervous around Akaashi.
'Things moved fast after Tsukki got angry,' he laughs, rubbing the back of his head. 'All I had before was candids.'
'Candids?' Akaashi raises his eyebrows. 'Those are always fun, can I see them?'
Akaashi Keiji wants to see something that he clicked. Akaashi Keiji wants to see something that he clicked. Akaashi Keiji— 'Of course! Sure! Hang on—'
The folder, when he pulls it up, is just slightly smaller than the actual shoot. It's always a pain to sort through all the pictures to find the final one he's going to go with, but he has to admit that candids are always fun. Over the years he's collected quite a fun bunch of those, featuring everyone from Kuroo to his childhood friends to Shimizu's lasagna (that's an entity of its own). He clicks on the first one and laughs immediately because it's one of Yachi fixing Tsukki's hair. Tsukki's attempt at not looking scary is clear even in the picture, as is his failure.
He moves through the rest of them quickly, since it's mostly Saeko, Yachi and the boys. The rejects from the actual shoot are basically a few dozen frames of Kuroo laughing his ass off and Tsukki looking pissed, and then there's the odd blurred one from when they got serious.
'Hold on,' Akaashi says when Koutarou’s almost at the end of the folder. 'Could you go back a few, please? Right— yes, that one.'
Koutarou frowns. It's a shot of Kuroo and Tsukki on the couch, probably after Tsukki told them to get their fucking shit together because Kuroo isn't laughing anymore and Tsukki doesn't look like he's about to kill three men. In fact, his hand is in Kuroo's hair, and Koutarou recalls the moment vaguely; something about one of Kuroo's useless bedhead curls sticking out over his ear and Tsukki fixing it.
'What about it?'
'Go ahead. Slowly.'
Koutarou switches to the next few pictures, and frowns even harder. Tsukki's arm caught in the motion of falling back down, hand in a fist. Kuroo looks...kind of...
'Next one.'
Kuroo's arm, going up, bent at the elbow. He looks...
'And the next one?'
Kuroo's hand, where Tsukki's was a few frames ago. Kuroo, still looking...
'Bokuto-san...'
Next. Kuroo still has that look on his face, still has his hand in his hair. Next, next, next.
'Maybe this should be your final project,' Akaashi says, and Koutarou finally looks away from Kuroo's dazed expression to Akaashi's smiling one. 'What do you think?'
'Everyone's going to die,' Koutarou says to Akaashi.