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1.
Tetsurou is going insane.
He is going insane and nothing will stop him. And if he won't go insane he'll simply perish. He'll perish and people will cry for him and attend his funeral and because this is Kenma’s fault, he’ll be forced to stand up there, to be the center of attention and hold a eulogy despite how much he'll hate it and it'll be as short as he can get away with but it'll show everyone how kind and humble Tetsurou was. And then he'll-
"Stop being dramatic." Kenma sounds the slightest bit annoyed as he recrosses his legs and leans forward where he’s sitting next to Tetsurou on the floor. His eyes are still fixed on the TV, following the volleyball from player to player and side to side. At what he's annoyed, Tetsurou has no idea. He didn't even say anything.
"I'm not being dramatic," Tetsurou says as he digs his nails into a new spot on his lower shin, doing his best to avoid the raised, red splotches along it. The previous placements of his fingers are still marked by half-moon-shaped indents. No scratching, he reminds himself, despite his body begging him to claw his skin off. Digging his nails into his skin is a poor distraction and an even poorer replacement for scratching.
There's cheering from the TV.
Tetsurou has no idea what's going on and hasn't even looked at the TV since the itchiness reared its ugly head.
"You'd be whining a lot more than me if you'd have fallen into those nettles," he mumbles.
Kenma hums under his breath. "I told you to watch your step."
"And yet you were the one who let the ball drop into the shrubs in the first place. Tell me, why didn't you get it out yourself?"
There's silence for a second before Kenma says, "You didn't even give me a chance to, Kuro."
"Yes, I did."
"No, you didn't."
"Yes, I did."
"No, you-"
"Whatever," Tetsurou says, pushing his right foot into Kenma's shoulder, who gives no resistance and instead simply lets himself slump onto his side. It's like he's a precariously filled water balloon, wobbling with little to no force. He'd probably explode just as easily if moved with enough speed. "I got the ball out, the least you could do is get me some ice."
"Your leg is itchy, not broken. You walked here just fine." Kenma glances up at him from where his cheek is smushed into the floor of his bedroom. His hair is covering half his face now, and he tries blowing some strands away but they flop right back into place. He scrunches up his nose in annoyance but doesn't go as far as lifting his hands to move them. He doesn't even push Tetsurou's leg off of him when he slips his foot over his shoulder and traps him underneath his leg just because he can. And out of spite maybe.
"It wasn't itchy when we walked home."
In fact, he had barely noticed the rash until he'd gotten changed and touched it for the first time. Accidentally. And then he couldn't stop once they were seated and he had nothing to do with his hands anymore. It's horrible and he hates it.
Kenma doesn't answer, seemingly willing to sit him out this time, with his eyes back to being fixed on the TV. He can't be comfortable like that but stays still nonetheless. It's honestly a little amazing to which length he will go to seem unaffected. Tetsurou is distracted enough by Kenma that he scratches his fingers along his left shin, only realizing what he's done when the itchiness intensifies.
"Ah fuck," he mutters and rips his hand away, tugs both arms around his waist, to keep them from reaching out again, and presses his forehead into his knee. He mumbles, "Please just make it stop."
He's good with pain, fantastic even, and has gotten used to it through years of slowly pushing his body further and further during training and crossing his own limitations bit by bit. And falling over his own or his teammates' feet or getting hit with a stray ball.
But this isn't pain, this is like a tag on a new shirt that he can't cut out because he's out and about and that leaves his neck raw from contact and distracted scratching at the end of the day. Just ten times worse because it's his whole left shin. He fucking hates it, he's going to die.
He lifts his head back up — resigned to just get the stupid ice pack himself if Kenma won't — at the same time that Kenma sinks his teeth into his very healthy and not itchy right calf.
Tetsurou is not proud of the yelp that escapes him at the sharp pain that zaps right up along his back like lightning and makes him flinch.
They're both lucky as hell that he doesn't just straight up kick Kenma in the face or worse rip his leg from in-between his teeth on instinct.
"Kenma!"
Kenma seems to come back to himself at his name, back to the reality where his teeth are digging into soft flesh and muscle, harshly but not enough to draw blood — Tetsurou hopes at least — and pulls his mouth away, finally pushing Tetsurou's leg off him with an uncanny calmness. Every single movement of his looks thought out and far too stiff as he gets up. The only obvious signs of panic his body offers are the blotchy redness spreading in his cheeks and the wide-eyed look he gives the floor in front of Tetsurou. His shoulders are high enough that he looks like he's trying to make himself disappear. Honestly, he seems kind of horrified.
"I'll get you ice," he says, voice neutral, and then he's gone from his room. Tetsurou hasn't seen him like this in forever. And he's still reeling from being bitten as he pulls his leg back to him, stares at the neat circle of imprints Kenma's teeth left behind, and the dull ache that settles into the area, as his skin flushes in irritation. That's going to bruise, he just knows it.
He wipes off the wetness Kenma’s mouth left behind with the heel of his hand before rubbing his hand dry on the leg of his shorts. Now that the initial shock slowly passes, he's not that surprised by it anymore. It just makes sense. Tetsurou pokes at the bite and feels a softer version of the same pain run up his back. He shivers, pulls his shoulders up.
Kenma comes back a minute later, ice pack in hand and still looking slightly horrified. That's more surprising than the bite itself, honestly, that he's back this fast. Tetsurou expected him to take his time or you know make Tetsurou come find him. Kenma hands over the ice with his shoulders still around his ears and avoids meeting his eyes like he's going to jump him in retaliation and return the favor.
Actually, that would be kind of fair, pinning him down and biting back. Not his leg though, maybe his-
"I don't know why I did that," Kenma says and Tetsurou blinks, finally moves to press the ice to his nettle rash — the relief is instantaneous and he sighs happily. Kenma's eyes stay resolutely fixed on Tetsurou's hand and avoid the angry-looking idents of his teeth on his other leg.
Well, Tetsurou could offer a good enough reason for the why but he's not going to tell Kenma that he sometimes acts like a dog snapping at its hind leg, when he's got itchy spots and thinks that biting the itch away is better than scratching — that behavior might be caused by the fact that he rarely has his hands free but who cares about that, right? It makes sense in some way. Though he’s sure Kenma wouldn’t see it like that right now and it would only embarrass him further to be reminded he does that.
Tetsurou is also certain that there's the part at play where Kenma took his plea to make the itchiness stop a little too literally and simply gave him a different sensation to focus on. Kind of stupid, kind of not because for a second there it definitely worked and there's no reason to point out that biting other people without asking them is rude.
Not like Tetsurou cares. It's Kenma.
"Well, I do look good enough to eat, so." He flashes Kenma a grin, to show that there are no hard feelings, and watches the splotchy redness of panic in his cheeks, slowly giving way to the sheer annoyance brought on by inappropriate comments and Tetsurou's lightheartedness.
He still takes the bait though, as he settles back down on the ground, knees tucked up under his chin, and adds, "You don't taste good though. Maybe shower next time."
"Next time, huh?"
Kenma huddles in on himself even further, eyes narrowed at the TV again but cheeks and ears still red.
"Don't try me," he mumbles.
Tetsurou barks a laugh and just slips the ice pack to a different spot.
On TV the winning point of the second set is scored.
(When during practice the next day Yaku asks him if he's been fighting his neighbor's terrier and points at the circular bruise forming on his leg — not obviously a bite but bite shaped enough to be noticeable — Tetsurou just snorts and tells him that if Kenma counts as a terrier, then surely Yaku must be something even smaller, a chihuahua maybe.
He walks home that night with a sulky Kenma in tow — "You didn't have to tell them, it was me, Kuro." — who doesn't let himself be dissuaded from pressing his fingers into the spot on his arm where Yaku hit him in retaliation — also starting to bruise — whenever he deems it necessary and causing a dull pain to run through him.
Kenma thinks it’s necessary a lot.
The bite on Tetsurou’s leg throbs right along.)
2.
It's summer, sticky heat dripping outside and Tetsurou is sprawled on Kenma's bed, arms covering his face and a fan blowing marginally cooler air through the room and brushing along the skin of his legs and arms, the sliver of it bared between his shirt and shorts.
He's dizzy from the heat, pretty sure he's got a small heat stroke when he went down to the konbini earlier today and he's mindless and lazy and there's summer homework waiting for him but he can't be bothered to do anything. He’ll get started when the sky darkens and he can think again.
"Popsicle?"
Kenmas question startles him out of his dozing and he lifts his arms off his face at the same time that he feels the coolness of ice dripping onto the overly warm skin of his inner thigh, trickling down immediately to follow gravity.
His muscles tense at the unexpected sensation and his inhale is sharp and gets stuck somewhere in his throat when Kenma's fingers wipe away the sticky line the drop of melted popsicle left on Tetsurou's inner thigh, right along the hem of his shorts, ridden up from him lazing around. Tetsurou can feel the movement of air his hand causes and suddenly feels like that part of his body is ten times more sensitive than before.
"Sorry," Kenma mumbles but his fingers linger a tad too long before he lifts them to his mouth and licks them clean.
Tetsurou's heart is in his throat and his voice sounds far away when he says, "Try licking it off directly next time, now you just spread it around and made me more sticky."
The heat, Tetsurou thinks, as Kenma blinks, slowly and carefully, that's all that's making him say this. Then Kenma's eyes meet Tetsurou's for a split second before he tilts his head in consideration, fingers still hovering at his mouth.
The next second, Tetsurou has Kenma's partially eaten popsicle slapped onto his face.
In a mad scramble of cold, so fucking cold, and the unpleasant sensation of it sticking to him while also immediately beginning to melt against his warm skin, he hears Kenma say, "Don't try me."
Tetsurou doesn't.
He focuses on gaining his breath back and not dropping any part of the popsicle onto Kenma's bed when it breaks apart in his hands. By the time he's got some sense of control back, he's a sticky mess and no amount of licking could clean that up. Ha.
Kenma has settled himself on the ground, freshly unwrapped popsicle — Tetsurou's popsicle that he now won't get because there are rules in the Kozume household about sweets — in hand and back against the bed frame. Above the collar of his shirt, the back of his neck is red.
He must have gotten a sunburn on their way home from practice.
(A second later Kenma seems to realize that it's his own bed that's in danger of being covered in sticky sugar and the artificial smell of watermelon and he scrambles back up to get Tetsurou something to clean up with.
Tetsurou just cackles when Kenma drops his own popsicle onto his shirt in the process.
Fair's fair.)
3.
Tetsurou drops his head back against the bed behind him and closes his eyes as he rubs the bridge of his nose. The headache that's been building for the better part of a week now, is at full force today.
He likes studying, likes learning and it comes easy to him for the most part. But being hunched over his books, a desk, his notes for most of his days, with the sting of the Spring Tournament being over, being lost, sitting still right behind his sternum and making exercising to balance out all the hunching he's doing seem too much like a chore for the first time in years is starting to take a toll.
"How do you do it?" he mumbles at the ceiling.
The incessant button mashing behind him doesn't pause in the slightest as Kenma says, "More words, Kuro."
"Says you," Tetsurou grumbles, lips quirking up, as flicks his eyes open to glance back at Kenma, huddled up against the wall, knees under his chin and arms around them with his PSP as close as he can get it to his face. Instead of using more words, Tetsurou uses less. "That."
Kenma makes a noise of discontent and glares at him for a split second before his eyes jump back to his screen. "I'll kick you out if the next sentence out of your mouth doesn’t make sense."
An empty threat. Tetsurou closes his eyes again, pressing his head harder into the mattress. It helps alleviate the pain a bit. Kenma has never once thrown him out of his room. Not when he brought in and accidentally set loose a frog he had found and wanted to show off, not when he had overeaten and threw up during a sleepover, not when he had walked in on Kenma crying that one time. Sometimes he wonders if Kenma would kick him out if he'd walk in on him jerking off. Then again, it wouldn't be that weird if that was the line he'd draw.
"You're the perfect example for bad posture. How are you not constantly stiff and in pain?"
The clicking continues. Tetsurou feels like it gets a bit softer though, as if Kenma's annoyance at him dissipated just as quickly as it appeared.
"Bad posture is a muscle like every other part of your body," Kenma says. "If you train it, it doesn't hurt."
"That so?" Tetsurou hums. "Sounds like I'm the one slacking off then."
The silence that descends upon them after his words is sudden and deafening enough that Tetsurou opens his eyes again to check why Kenma stopped playing. He finds him staring down at his screen still, eyes narrowed and lips pursed, but his fingers aren't moving. Cut scene maybe. Then he looks up, eyes meeting Tetsurou's head-on.
Tetsuros breath catches for a second and he wonders why that still happens. Kenma looks at him much more than at others, he gets the annoyed looks, the amused looks, the angry ones, the subtle but happy ones, just- he's seen most of them if not even all of them. Hundreds of times. But this one happens far and few in between and Tetsurou hasn't quite figured out why and what sits at its root. He just knows that it's always followed by Kenma doing things Tetsurou isn’t quite prepared for. Never anything bad, just unexpected.
This time Kenma presses a few buttons before he places his PSP to the side and moves the small distance to the edge of the bed. When Tetsurou makes to sit up, to move out of the way of knees coming dangerously close to hitting him in his already aching head, Kenma's hands are there, catching his face between them and holding him right where he is, tucked safely in between Kenma’s thighs. Tetsurou blinks up at him but finds nothing but careful neutrality, trying hard to cover up uncertainty and a flicker of nerves. Tetsurou keeps his mouth shut and waits.
It takes a second for Kenma to continue moving as if he's making sure that Tetsurou understood the silent order to stay right where he is, but then he loosens his hold, slips his fingers below his head instead, and digs them into the tight muscles behind his ears. Tetsurou's foot twitches and he hisses. It doesn't quite hurt but it also doesn't feel good. It just is. But the pressure at the back of his head helps relieve the pressure in his forehead by a lot. Kenma starts massaging his neck then, fingers strong and much more certain than Tetsurou is used to when it comes to Kenma touching anything but inanimate things. There's so often an unsureness underlying Kenma's physical actions. But with each pass over aching muscles and the building warmth that comes from skin rubbing against skin, Tetsurou's body goes more limp, giving Kenma free reign over his head and neck and how he moves and manipulates them. He can feel the tension inside of himself drop, his eyes closing on their own accord.
"You're not slacking off," Kenma says, voice soft, where his fingers are insistent in their presence. It takes Tetsurou a second to remember what he said last, to make sense of Kenma's words. "You're just not made to be small. You're supposed to be tall and upright. It's just who you are."
Tetsurou huffs a laugh, and ignores the heat in his cheeks as he mumbles, "You're not made to be small either."
Kenma's fingers pause for a second before continuing, a bit softer than before, nails raking further up into his hair. It's just as good and Tetsurou just wants-
"I know. I'm learning from the best," Kenma says and there's warmth in his voice that makes Tetsurou open his eyes. Kenma is looking at him, his eyes mirroring his words. Tetsurou smiles, but can't keep it from slowly morphing into a smirk.
"Does that mean, you'll finally call me-"
"One more word and I'll strangle you." The warmth is gone in an instant, replaced by a scowl. The fingers on his neck twitch, as Tetsurou blinks up at him, still smirking. "Don't try me."
Tetsurou's "Wouldn't dare to," escapes him with a breathless laugh and is close enough to the words beating with a steady rhythm in his chest.
He closes his eyes again.
(Kenma makes it five more minutes before he deems he's worked enough and stops kneading Tetsurou's neck. The tightness is still left but the headache has receded into a dull throb, that'll pass if he doesn't overdo it tonight and instead sleeps it off. And in a sheer selfless act of procrastination, Tetsurou offers to repay the favor and help Kenma stretch his wrists and hands in turn. Their valuable goods, after all, are needed for setting, gaming, and living.
It has nothing to do with Tetsurou wanting to continue being touched by Kenma.
It has nothing to do with Kenma’s soft sigh and the way his eyes flutter shut when Tetsurou's fingers dig into the fleshy part of his palm and stretch out tight tendons.
He's just making sure that Kenma is at his best and returning the favor.
That's all.)
4.
"Kozume-senpai!"
Tetsurou perks up, at the same time that Kenma next to him wilts a bit. Hearing Kenma being called by his last name, and so formally at that, is always a surefire introduction to an interesting conversation when it's not a teacher who's approaching him. And it obviously isn't this time.
The girl coming towards them is short, her face round and flushed, while the sweater vest of her uniform is askew and her braid slowly falling apart. She looks like she’s had a long day. Tetsurou doesn’t think he’s ever seen her before.
"It's Kenma," Kenma stresses when she comes to a stop in front of them, her eyes flickering between them and Tetsurou does his best to keep his smile an actual smile. He's been told by Yaku that his "always so predatory grin" might scare people off if they meet him for the first time and that he should work on it if he doesn't plan on being a loner at university. Though Tetsurou will never let him know that he's taken the words to heart, has become a bit self-conscious about the way he looks and seems and smiles. It’s been a while since first impressions counted for him and volleyball wasn’t the leading factor.
"Ah, I’m sorry!" the girl says, bowing her head in apology.
"It’s fine."
But it's so hard not to grin when the girl looks as if she's about to throw a confession towards Kenma, who looks decidedly unhappy about being stopped from going home by someone other than Tetsurou or the rest of the volleyball club. Though not as unhappy as usual, Tetsurou notes and reconsiders for a second how fun this will actually be.
"Uhm." The girl looks back at Tetsurou, a silent question on her face that he can’t quite make out but he gets it so wholeheartedly. Private matters of the heart don't require an audience no matter how badly he wants to see Kenma fumble through this.
"You want me to scram? I can scram." He’s already taken one step backward, ready to head to the school gate and wait there, when he meets Kenma's eyes and freezes. He's got him fixed with a pointed glare, the implied "If you leave, I'll kill you," loud in his eyes. Tetsurou raises an eyebrow, now definitely grinning. Because what is going on here? "Or I can stay?"
Kenma turns towards the girl again, face neutral and no sign of his wrath left. Though he doesn’t keep his eyes on her for long, lets them flit away again, as he speaks, "Did you decide already, Momoko-san?"
Her attention is back on Kenma in an instant and she nods, eyes wide and a smile on her face. "I’ll do it. It sounds like fun and you said it yourself, if I struggle, I can always ask for help. That's what teamwork is about, right?"
Kenma makes a noise of agreement, and Tetsurou watches in fascination as he smiles. It's small and mostly polite but it's there. "Tomorrow after school then? I'll pick you up at your classroom."
She nods and then she looks directly at Tetsurou and says, "I'll do my best!"
And Tetsurou, having no idea what he's currently witnessing, replies with, "I'm sure you will?"
It comes out more like a question but she doesn't seem to notice. Because her smile turns so bright, it's blinding and then she bows her head again and runs off towards two other girls waiting some distance away.
Tetsurou turns to look at Kenma. Kenma looks right back up at him. There’s a hint of smugness on his features. Like the cat that got the cream.
"What was that?" Tetsurou asks, raising his eyebrows and gesturing in the vague direction that the girl disappeared to. "Did you just make plans to hang out with someone else right in front of me?"
"No." And that's all Kenma says before he starts walking again and Tetsurou automatically falls into step.
"No? Just a no? What are you picking her up for then? And why would she wait around until after club activities for you?"
"Who said anything about picking her up after club activities?" Kenma pulls his phone out of his pocket and starts fiddling with it. Tetsurou immediately shifts his eyes off of Kenma and onto their surroundings. Someone's gotta watch where they go or they'll both walk into something. Not that that has ever happened before. Really. Never.
"We have our last club meeting tomorrow. You can't tell me you'll ditch it for some girl, I haven't even heard about before. Wouldn’t be a good move as the new vice-captain." He feels an uncomfortable ache in his chest at the self-made reminder that this is it. He'll be officially done with the Nekoma volleyball club and his role as captain after tomorrow. Well technically he's been for weeks already but while they haven't been partaking in official club activities anymore, neither he nor Kai nor Yaku have quite gotten the memo and hung around the gymnasium from time to time, getting out some energy, pent up from too much studying and just needing a short break. As much as it was still feasible while preparing for their life after high school, anyway. For tomorrow's meeting, they are officially invited back though, Coach Nekomata’s words. One last time.
"I wouldn't do that." He can feel Kenma's eyes on the side of his face.
"Then what are you doing?" He glances over at Kenma and sure enough, he's looking at him.
It must be the sulkiness in Tetsurou's voice that makes Kenma give in immediately. His voice is calm when he says, "She’ll be joining us. She agreed to become the manager of the volleyball club. Or at least to try and fill that position."
"What?" Tetsurou stops dead in his tracks and Kenma’s arm bumps into him as he passes. Tetsurou feels kind of attacked right now. A manager? "You- You, found us a manager?"
"She came to some of our games this year, not just the National’s ones, so I figured she'd be interested enough. It was sheer luck that she wasn’t part of a club." Kenma shrugs his shoulders but stops as well, turning back to him. And leave it to him to notice a classmate on the sidelines, while his head should be in the game. "I’m sure you could have found one, her maybe even, if you hadn't been so in love with doing all the work yourself."
"Was not," Tetsurou says. "I just wanted it done properly. And it's not like I didn't try."
"Were, too." Kenma fixes him with narrowed eyes. "I'm okay with being vice-captain. And Tora will do a good job as captain. But we're not you and doing stuff like keeping track of club activities isn't a thing either of us will excel at. So I found someone to do it for us."
"Was not," Tetsurou insists, rolling his eyes but he can feel a fond grin starting to spread on his face. Kenma’s always good for a surprise. "Well, leave it to the laziest person I know to find solutions to things that weren't an issue before within a month of taking over."
"Were, too." Kenma continues walking and Tetsurou hurries to catch up with him. Okay, so maybe he was into all the extra work that fell onto him with no manager around, sue him. He liked doing all those menial tasks and maybe he's a slight perfectionist. The idea of handing them off was just not working for him. Even letting Kai take over some things from time to time had been a struggle. "And laziness inspires creativity, so maybe you should try it for yourself sometime."
"I'll pass. Who'd get you to do your school work if I was as lazy as you." Though ‘lazy’ is arguably the wrong word to describe Kenma even if it's what everyone, them included, tends to use. He's just a little differently wired and has different priorities. There's nothing lazy about someone who sinks hours into games just to figure out every secret, route, and strategy. Testuro glances at Kenma and finds him already looking at him with an expression that Tetsurou can only read as ‘Are you serious?’ and oh yeah. He huffs a laugh, scratches his neck. "Ah, you’ve been using me to conserve energy as well all these years, haven’t you? Very sneaky of you."
Kenma’s mouth twitches. "You were a viable and willing subject, it wasn't much work."
"Ha! Well, good luck replacing me next year then."
Kenma goes quiet, eyes back to his phone, though his fingers aren't moving. "That's impossible."
"Don't knock it till you try it. I'm sure Fukunaga would love to study with you. And Momoko-san could probably take over for-"
"Kuro," Kenma's voice is sharp as it interrupts him and when he looks over at him, he finds his face completely hidden by his hair, shoulders drawn up. His fingers are still on his phone, his knuckles white. "I said, it’s impossible. So don't try me."
Tetsurou goes quiet then. He knows he won't be able to continue doing the same things for Kenma that he had naturally started to do over the past ten years. There'll be a new distance at play that will stop him from doing most things. Not that he thinks Kenma won’t be able to function without him around — he’s not that vain, thank you very much — but there are routines that they’ve established that he knows have helped Kenma focus his energy on things he wants to focus on.
But if Kenma isn't looking for a way to replace him right now and is willing to pretend that there's not going to be a need, Tetsurou will happily go along with it. It took him a while to come to terms with just the idea that Kenma wouldn't always continue being a stone's throw away. That it'll be a harsh reality soon, doesn't need attention at the moment. Not if Kenma would rather pretend they're fine. That he’s fine.
After all, this will be much harder on him than on Tetsurou, with all the familiar reminders he keeps, while Tetsurou leaves everything behind.
Despite that, Tetsurou is sure he'll miss Kenma plenty and at every opportunity.
(Introducing Momoko-san to the rest of the volleyball club as their new manager the next day is a fun event.
Tetsurou's highlights from the whole spiel, that he'll keep to himself forever, are the following:
Seeing her stand next to Lev for the first time. Where she was short from his line of sight before, from an outside perspective she’s now positively tiny.
Seeing Yamamoto clam up completely — because there's a girl in their gymnasium, a girl wanting to be their manager, they have their own girl manager! — and seeing her do just the same and go beet red. Seems like she was watching their games for more than just volleyball.
Seeing everybody's confused expressions when they realize Kenma approached a total stranger of his own volition — a first year at that — to ask her about becoming the manager for their club and didn't just try but was also successful.
Seeing everybody break out into laughter when Momoko-san bows so deeply to Tetsurou, as she promises to keep his good work up, that he feels his whole face burn and doesn't know what to say in return, so he just bows back.
Seeing Kenma's pleased but wistful smile when he thinks no one is paying attention to him anymore, everybody focused on making Momoko-san feel welcome and give her the basic first rundown.
But Tetsurou is always paying attention.)
5.
Tetsurou wakes up to a quiet conversation between Kenma and his mother, but his eyes feel too heavy to open, his limbs like lead. He doesn't remember falling asleep, just that he sat down on Kenma's bed after dinner. Just for a second while waiting for Kenma to join him. He must have been more exhausted than he thought if he can't even remember lying down. Though that he fell asleep is not that much of a surprise. He's been feeling off all week, anxiousness keeping him restless at night and making him scramble through his daily schedule and classes. Skipping classes today to come home, despite the workload still waiting for him, was just the next logical step in this breakdown — and there must be one coming because there's not much that makes him skip classes voluntarily.
He blinks his eyes open to red-ringed darkness and slivers off lights along the lines where, what Tetsurou assumes to be Kenma's Nekoma training jacket, doesn't reach the mattress. Above him Kenma’s legs cage in his head and keep the fabric from touching him, leaving enough space to breathe even if the air feels stuffy and hot. They’ve been here before, with Tetsurou tired and Kenma showing no willingness to turn off the overhead light and ruining his eyes to let Tetsurou get proper rest. This was a simple if not ideal compromise.
"Is he asleep?" Kenma’s mother asks, voice soft and Tetsurou feels warm all over at the fondness he can hear in her voice. It’s the same as the one she greeted him with when he showed up on the Kozume household's doorstep — unannounced, hours before Kenma was due to return from school and with no knowledge if he'd come home directly or if he had plans. She spares no comment for how they’re positioned with Tetsurou's head burrowed underneath the small tent Kenma's knees and his open jacket make, while the rest of him is curled up on the bed, too long limbs fitting themselves into the limited space available. He doesn’t think she ever has. At least not with him present.
Kenma hums an agreement, the steady tap tap of buttons pausing as his mother says, "Good. He looked dead on his feet but he wouldn't listen when I insisted he rest instead of helping me. Said he didn't want to risk missing you. He didn't even take the time to go and say hello to his family."
Kenma makes a displeased noise, legs shifting carefully and making part of the jacket brush against Tetsurou's bare arm. One of Kenma’s feet nudges into the back of his shoulder and stays pressed there. "I'll force him to tomorrow."
Tetsurou's mouth stretches into a lazy smile. Of course, Kenma wouldn’t even spare a thought for waking him up or making him go home tonight. Not when he could come along tomorrow and potentially get his hands on some of Tetsurou's grandmother's homemade sweets. Attention is fine if there are sweets involved as compensation.
Kenma's mother's smile is audible when she says, "Don’t be too harsh on him. I haven't seen him like this since you two fought about him deleting that save of yours."
"Ah." The tone of Kenma's voice makes clear that that is still not in the past. To be fair, Tetsurou knows that it was a close-to-perfection Pokemon save and he ruined hours upon hours of work in a second. But it's been six years. Kenma could at least start getting over it. Tetsurou even did the grinding work for his next try to make up for it. And then again for a different Pokemon game because Kenma insisted that if he was already at it, he might as well keep going. "We didn't fight this time."
"That's good." Another pause, almost like his mother is hesitating and carefully choosing her next words. "Leaving everything you know behind and being by yourself for the first time, isn't as easy as most people make it look. I'm sure he could use the reminder that he’s not alone out there."
"Of course, he’s not," Kenma mumbles, and his next words have a tone to them that makes Tetsurou's chest ache, "But if he doesn't let me be there, I can't do much. I wasn't the one who stopped responding. He's the one being stupid."
And yeah, he did that. Got too far into his own head and got stuck there and thought that missing Kenma would become easier if he just kept busy otherwise and stopped responding as much. But it didn't help a thing and it might be part of the reason why he's here tonight when he should be in the library and studying the whole weekend he has free thanks to lucky scheduling at his part-time job. Ah, what an incredibly dumb idea he had there. Kenma's a fixture in his life. He can function without him, sure, but he doesn’t want to.
But it feels wrong to keep listening now without Kenma knowing that he is awake. Not when he’s sharing thoughts he’s not let him in on before. So Tetsurou forces himself to shift his fingers that little bit further up and tug gently on the fabric of Kenma's pants. The heel against his shoulder digs in harder in response.
"Oh, and you aren't?" Kenma’s mother says with certainty that only comes with age and probably parenthood. "As far as I recall, being stupid is in the job description of children. Otherwise, none of you would learn anything ever. So let him be stupid if he thinks that's what's best but don't do the same, Kenma. Being there for someone isn't always about talking. Sometimes it's just about knowing you could and having someone remind you that they're around even when you can't return the sentiment. Alright?"
Kenma’s pause is audible, and Tetsurou can practically hear his whole body language change to embarrassment at being subtly chided for his choice of words. Not that he's wrong — because Tetsurou certainly is being stupid — but still.
"Goodnight, mom," Kenma says, very pointedly done with this conversation. Maybe he would have said more if Tetsurou hadn't shown a sign of being awake, maybe he would have stopped here either way.
His mother chuckles. "Goodnight. Don't stay up too late."
The door clicks shut and Kenma's sigh is heavy as he drops whatever he was playing on onto the mattress next to them. His upper body shifts and his voice is that much closer when he speaks again as if he's got his head resting against his knees and is speaking directly into the fabric of his jacket, "Dumb and dumber, sitting in a tree."
Tetsurou snorts and Kenma's next exhale is more laughter than breath.
"How long have you been awake?" Kenma asks, still in the same position, as he shoves a hand underneath the jacket and not so gently tugs on Tetsurou's hair. Punishment of some sort. "Listening in to other people's conversations is rude."
"Long enough to know your mom likes me more than you do," Tetsurou says and bats at Kenma’s leg. He makes no move to unearth himself though and Kenma makes no move to shift his body away either.
"Not possible."
Tetsurou reasons that Kenma is only being this honest because his mother’s words are fresh in his mind and because Tetsurou is in no position to judge him. He doesn’t want to look too closely at the other options — that he’s looking desperate, that he’s a mess — that would make Kenma feel like Tetsurou needs to hear this. But it doesn’t stop the dopey grin from spreading on his face and he’s glad that he’s hidden away. Though he’s sure it’s audible anyway, when he says, "That so?"
Another harsh tug on his hair, and Tetsurou grunts in pain. "Don’t try me."
Instead of responding, Tetsurou blindly fumbles for Kenma’s other hand outside of his little tent. When he finds it, he twists their fingers together and squeezes.
Kenma squeezes back.
("But I'm still mad at you about that save," are Kenma's next words.
Though he's smiling as Tetsurou finally unearths himself from underneath his knees and jacket, eyes crinkling slightly at the corners and mouth stretched wide. There's no sign of the supposed anger on his face and Tetsurou wants to kiss him so badly.
Instead, he reaches up with the hand not holding Kenma’s and pinches his cheek, pulls his mouth even wider, and says, "If I convince my grandmother to make you an apple pie and to let you eat it by yourself tomorrow, will you forget about it already?"
Kenma's eyes shine with mirth, as he pushes Tetsurou's hand off his face. "I might. You should try."
They're going to be just fine.)
+1
Kenma disappearing at group gatherings isn't unusual. He sneaks away to get some quiet when he's reached his limit, when he needs a moment to breathe, or when he's just plain annoyed with the world. And this time it is well deserved after the nagging he received for his unwillingness to participate in the absurd round of ‘Marry, kiss, kill - Nekoma volleyball club edition’ that had been started to lift the mood after Yaku brought it down with the story of his recent break-up — it was not Tetsurou's idea, thank you very much.
But listening to their friends fumble their way through a sensible explanation as to why they would marry or kiss one of them over the other had been entertaining. At least until Kenma had been put on the spot and told to pick and his eyes had been everywhere but on his friends and his "Skip," had been met by a round of disagreement. Tetsurou had been quietly watching, waiting for the change from unwilling to actually uncomfortable. At least until Kenma's hand — previously placed on the floor behind Tetsurou — had latched onto Tetsurou’s shirt and tugged so forcefully that it had made him lose his balance and choke on his own spit. His sudden struggle to stay upright along with the coughing fit had been enough to distract everyone for long enough that Kenma had been gone. And while Tetsurou would have appreciated a warning, he understood perfectly why he didn't get it. After that, the conversation shifted, awkward for only a second before returning to other topics.
Tetsurou disappearing after Kenma isn't unusual either. He does the check-ins, the questions of ‘Break or home?’ and ‘Need anything?’ It's as much a former captain thing as it's a Kenma thing. But Tetsurou never does so immediately, only when he's deemed enough time has passed for it to be more than just a bathroom break. He hadn't, that one time and Kenma hadn't taken too kindly to it.
So even if this time he’s certain Kenma is hiding out in the kitchen of the Yamamoto household, Tetsurou only follows him inconspicuously, when a normal amount of time has passed — 6 minutes 25 seconds but who's counting, right?
No one stops him. No one asks him to bring back something or other. Not a single one of the current and former Nekoma volleyball club members has a care left for what Tetsurou is doing right now because there is still so much catching up to do. There are stories from university to laugh about, there are plans from the freshly graduated third years to share. And in the end, every person in this room, who knows Kenma and him, knows what he’s doing anyway and wouldn’t want to keep him from it.
Kenma's leaning against the counter when Tetsurou steps into the kitchen. He's sucking on the straw of a juice box and only shortly glances up to look at him, before he lowers his head again and his hair falls back into his face to shield him from the harsh glare from the overhead light. Someone in the living room screams bloody murder, followed by laughter.
"Still as rowdy as ever," Tetsurou says as he gets himself a bottle of water from the fridge. There are no juice boxes inside and he can’t spot any on the counter either. He can’t even recall seeing any during the whole evening. The idea that Kenma brought it himself makes warmth fill Tetsurou’s chest.
"That surprises you? You're the worst of them," Kenma stresses and moves the straw between his lips. "You egg them on."
Tetsurou laughs quietly, as he settles in next to Kenma, leaning his weight against the counter and nudging their shoulders together. Kenma shifts minutely and then they’re touching from knee to shoulder.
"You say that but the truth is you like that I'm loud enough for the both of us."
Kenma's hum is noncommittal but he doesn't disagree outright and Tetsurou feels the corner of his mouth quirk up. Just for the fun of it, he touches his water bottle against Kenma's juice box, before he cracks it open. Kenma glares at him when the movement nudges the straw out of his mouth. Tetsurou grins as he watches him recapture it.
"I missed this," Tetsurou says, before taking a sip of his water.
"The insanity? A bunch of guys yelling over each other? The roughhousing?" Kenma sounds slightly muffled around his straw but there's an amused undertone. "You can't tell me you don't get that at university."
"Taking a break with you," Tetsurou corrects him, feeling some of the heat from this morning return to his face. It feels more comfortable now than it did when Kenma talked about his plans for the next years with a finality that made Tetsurou's head spin — how Tetsurou still had a part to play, a place crafted just for him if he wanted it.
The slurping of Kenma's juice box stops and he glances at Kenma.
Kenma's already looking at him, eyes intense and burning. The blond in his hair is further grown out than it was the last time they saw each other in person. The dark circles underneath his eyes are more prominent, brought on by too much studying and too much time spent on not just gaming but creating content out of it. He's grown a centimeter or two, and his features have gotten a bit sharper. But he's still Kenma, just slightly to the left, slightly more grown up. Just as Tetsurou is still Tetsurou, just slightly more present and a bit more certain of what he wants from life. They both shifted but not away from each other. Not in the long term.
"Being next to you," Tetsurou adds a little quieter as he holds eye contact. And then even quieter but no less certain, "You as a whole."
And Kenma, being Kenma, blindly sets his juice box behind himself on the counter, before he fully turns to him — full attention only ever for games, volleyball, and Tetsurou. Tetsurou turns with him. Kenma's hands come up to take the water bottle from him and place it on the counter as well before they tangle in the front of Tetsurou's shirt, slowly but with a certain desperation behind them, that tugs at something in his stomach.
"You're the one who left."
It’s not an accusation, more a statement than anything, reminding Tetsurou that while things have gotten better again, while he’s been doing his hardest to show up for them and Kenma has been doing his hardest to give his presence a voice, there’s still a new distance between them that is on Tetsurou. Because he never quite got over being scared of what-ifs and maybes. No matter how much certainty each visit, each call, and each text installed back into him — that this, that they would happen once they were done playing catch up — there was always something that would knock his confidence in them down a peg again and distance is shit at fixing things when it’s the sole cause for trouble in the first place. And Tetsurou is shit at asking for what he needs. But today, he thinks, he will.
"Kenma," he says, eyes roaming over Kenma’s features. "Who would you marry, kiss, and kill?"
Kenma flushes, mouth going flat, and grip on Tetsurou’s shirt tightening. He stays quiet but his eyes are blazing. It's an invitation as much as it is an unspoken ‘Are we really doing this?’
Tetsurou tilts his head. "I assume Lev gets the kill, wouldn’t he? Heard he’s been annoying you even more during the last months because he wanted you to put in a word for him to become the new captain."
Kenma shrugs his shoulders. "Sounds about right."
"Now, marriage. There are a few options there, I’d say, depending on what you’d go for. If it’s good food, I’d say Fukunaga gets the marriage. Though Yamamoto and you have gotten pretty good at teamwork the past year, huh? That’s a solid foundation for marriage. Or maybe Momoko-san."
Kenma huffs an annoyed breath but there’s a hint of amusement in his eyes, no fear of judgment, no awkwardness like there had been surrounded by their friends. And Tetsurou is grinning so hard, his cheeks are starting to hurt.
"Kissing though, oh that one’s interesting. I for one would have picked Yaku. Anger can make for quite spicy relations, I’ve heard. I think you on the other hand would be more-"
"Stop talking."
"Oh but I haven’t even gotten to the part where I-"
"I said be quiet," Kenma says and tugs at Tetsurou’s shirt again. At least this time it’s the front and his body easily sways closer to Kenma. But despite the roughness of the tug, there's no sign of it in his voice. There's just so much fond annoyance and warmth.
"But-"
"Don’t try me, Kuro."
For the first time, Tetsurou doesn't step down from this specific challenge. He lets his grin fade as he holds eye contact, bringing his body just a bit closer until he can feel Kenma’s next exhale brush along his face. His voice is low and private when he says, "I think you’d pick me. Familiarity over excitement, isn’t that right?"
Instead of answering, Kenma pulls him into a kiss.
The kiss is short and filled with a good amount of the need to prove something and a desperate attempt to shut Tetsurou up. And when Kenma leans back again, cheeks a decent shade of red, but eyes so full of warmth and nerves, Tetsurou knows they’re on the same page again. They are done playing catch up and done ignoring the obvious. Ignoring them, like Tetsurou had been trying to for the past year.
"See, I was right," Tetsurou mumbles, as he brings a hand up, and places it along Kenma’s jaw. Tetsurou's thumb brushes along his cheek, gets a bit too close to his right eye, and Kenma blinks it shut for a second before opening it again. He slightly pushes his face further into Tetsurou’s hand. "I was always going to get the kiss spot."
"Well, you deserve the kill spot more than Lev, right now," Kenma says before kissing him again, less urgent, less about shutting him up. It's softer, a bit longer, and leaves Tetsurou more of a chance to kiss back. When Kenma draws away this time, he meets his eyes head-on. For someone who looks perfectly relaxed in posture, the next second Kenma’s whole face scrunches up in annoyance. Maybe because Tetsurou is looking at him with a shit-eating grin again, maybe because he's pinching his cheek now.
"Do I?"
"You couldn’t have gotten your head out of your ass while we were alone in my bedroom this morning?" Kenma shrugs his hand off and finally lets go of Tetsurou’s shirt. "You didn’t even question me for not telling you about half of those plans the last time we talked about my graduation."
Tetsurou huffs a laugh. "Oh, excuse me, Mr. ‘Everything I do is strategic’ for not playing along with your plans."
"You’re excused." And though Kenma’s tone is flat, his eyes are sparkling with mischief and there’s a fond note to the small smile breaking through the frown. He reaches for his juice box again, and mutters, "Can’t believe I fell for an idiot."
And while Tetsurou’s breath catches, he can’t help but laugh and reach for Kenma’s free hand, wanting to just keep touching him. He tangles their fingers together and Kenma’s hand feels clammy and shaky but he doesn’t pull away. Leftover nerves. Tetsurou knows how that feels. "Yeah well, this idiot is pretty into this strategic brain. So he hopes he can be forgiven for today. Finally seeing him again must have made him stupider."
Kenma hums around the straw of his juice box. He squeezes Tetsurou’s hand. "He can try to convince me later when we get home."
"Oh yeah?" Tetsurou says, another grin widening on his face as he watches Kenma realize what he said, and the annoyed flush claiming his face once more. Though to be fair, Testurou’s cheeks feel far too hot as well.
"Shut up, Kuro." He rolls his eyes as he takes another sip from his juice.
"Make me."
And Kenma, being Kenma, throws him an absolutely scathing look before dropping his hand again and leaving him standing in the kitchen. Just like that, as if nothing changed. As if they are still simply Kenma and Tetsurou. And maybe there are. Maybe they always were this. Just not spoken out loud, not fully acknowledged.
Tetsurou on the other hand needs another second to compose himself before he can even fathom stepping back into the living room and joining his friends, like some part of his life didn’t just realign itself and click into place.
And as he stands there, smiling to himself and twisting the bottle of water in his hands, he thinks that there are just two things in his life that always have and always will remain constant.
Volleyball and Kenma.
He thinks he's fine with that.
(Not much later, when there’s another lull in the conversation and the excitement of reuniting with old friends has ebbed off a little, Kenma says "I’d marry, kiss, and kill Kuro," while he’s got his eyes fixed on his phone, thumb tapping across the keyboard.
The stunned silence that follows his words only lasts until Tetsurou sighs and says, "You can’t pick me three times. That’s against the rules. I thought you were good at games."
Then there’s laughter and the general chaos from before picks up like nothing happened.
Behind Tetsurou’s back, Kenma hooks a finger of his free hand into the hem of Tetsurou's shirt and gently tugs. Tetsurou nudges his foot against Kenma's leg in return.
Later can’t come soon enough.)