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Kenma stared utterly dumbstruck at his drunken best friend, who conveniently (or rather very in conveniently) passed out with his forehead flattened onto the kitchen counter.
“I wanna wake up to you everyday”
That’s what Kuroo had said. Well, slurred, seconds before falling unconscious.
Unable to formulate words, his body completely frozen to the barstool, Kenma couldn’t stop staring. He knew he looked stupid– mouth wide open, eyes bulging from their sockets, face and neck on fire and to be honest he wasn’t even sure he was breathing. Because seriously, what the fuck?
He didn’t mean-
No yeah, he definitely meant-
Did he?
Shit.
It started off a completely normal evening, really. Kuroo came home in his stupidly handsome suit with his dumb sleeves rolled up and ugly tie undone, just begging Kenma to keel over and die . He had take out and wine in hand, and yelled “Kenma! Get the wine glasses!” as he did every single Friday.
And just like every other Friday, Kuroo got way too drunk off of way too little way too fast, slumped onto their counter and passed out.
Except today was different.
Today, Kuroo had said that.
Maybe if Kenma wasn’t so drunk and preoccupied ogling at his bestfriend (love of his life), maybe he would have seen Kuroo ogling him back, his cheeks tinted pink and a recurrent glimmer in his eye. Maybe he would have heard whatever the hell he was saying before he dropped The Bomb. But alas. Kenma is an idiot.
Instead, he was trying to hold in literal drool as he watched the veins in Kuroo’s hands shift with every movement. Hyper aware of every point of contact under the counter where their legs brushed. Embarrassingly entranced by his seriously absurdly large arms, and how when he moved the sleeve of his shirt hugged them so nicely-
Anyways. Kenma was distracted.
“Think, think, think.” Kenma mumbled, breaking his paralysis and rubbing his face aggressively.
Typically at this point, Kenma would do his best to sling Kuroo over his shoulder and drag him to bed, but the thought of putting his hands anywhere near that right now made his skin itch. Not in a good way.
Surely Kuroo didn’t mean it like that. They’ve been best friends for 16 years. Six. Teen. Years. And Kuroo cannot keep a secret to save his life so there’s no way he would’ve been able to keep something like being in love with your best friend underwraps. No way.
Maybe.
Scratch that last part. Kenma can’t be hopeful right now; he needs to be logical.
Fucking wine, messing with his head.
Unable to be that close to Kuroo any longer Kenma slipped off the barstool and stepped away from his drooling ( God, even his drool is cute ) best friend and began pacing through their house.
Their house. The house Kenma had bought when their university apartment lease was up and asked Kuroo to come with him. The house where every place you looked you could see where little bits of themselves melded together and spread across each room.
The house where more often than not, Kenma’s bed lay untouched and Kuroo’s was filled with two warm bodies intertwined with one another.
“Fuck.” Kenma whisper shouted (?), forcing his gaze away from Kuroo’s unmade bed. Unmade because they slept in it. Together.
Is that weird? Is that Normal for best friends?
Letting his shoulders slump, Kenma dragged his slippered feet down the hall and into his game room, dramatically flopping into his chair. Air seemed to enter his lungs a bit easier in this room. It was his space (save for the bean bag in Kuroo’s Corner. Yes he has a sign hanging that says that. No he won’t let Kenma take it down) where he could unwind and breathe. He just needed to breathe.
And make a list. Breathe and list. Maybe sober up a little.
Here’s what Kenma knew for sure:
- Kuroo is the most important person in Kenmas life
- He has never said anything about liking someone literally ever, let alone liking guys, let alone liking Kenma
- They have been mistaken for boyfriends many times (“is that even relevant?” Kenma mutters)
- Kenma is devastatingly in love with Kuroo. And has been. For 16 years
- Kuroo loves him– just not like That
Okay, so the list is horse shit and helped with literally nothing.
Kuroo needs to wake the hell up.
After groaning loud enough to wake the dead, Kenma began trying to piece this together. Again.
“Maybe he meant it as friends?” He mumbled, although as soon as the words left his lips he knew how brainless it sounded. Normal friends just don’t say stuff like that. But if he was being true to himself, when has anything about their friendship been anywhere near Normal?
He could admit it though, here in the loneliness of his room, wine fuzzing his thoughts, that there was more than one occasion where he thought maybe, maybe, he had a shot. But always he snubbed the thought, never letting it fester for more than a moment.
Hours passed, and by the time the little clock in the corner of his monitor read 3:00 AM, Kenma was actively searching: tallest building in tokyo so he could leap off of it.
Deep purple bags rimmed his blood shot eyes and his hair was a scraggly mess from how often he angrily ran his fingers through it. Kenma had decided enough is enough.
For hours he essentially ran their entire friendship through his mind frame by frame, analyzing everything with such excruciating detail he feared he might start rocking back and forth in a corner soon.
He thought about Kuroo burrowing his nose into Kenma’s neck when he sleeps, sometimes murmuring Kenma’s name so faintly Kenma thought his chest was going to constrict until it caved in on itself. And how sometimes when Kuroo is tossing and turning he’ll inadvertently wrap his arms around Kenma’s waist, pulling him close. The tossing and turning ceasing.
Kuro’s just a cuddler. He would do that to Bokuto too. So Kenma brushed it off.
He remembered that time he borrowed Kuroo’s hoodie.
“What are you wearing? Is that mine?” Kuroo’s eyes were blown wide, cheeks a pretty pink Kenma was choosing to ignore. Or rather forcefully shoving it out of his brain before he short circuited.
Looking down, Kenma shrugged. “I don’t have any clean clothes, so I borrowed it.”
His outfit consisted of a ragged pair of plain black boxers he should have thrown away years ago after the first hole appeared; but here he was rocking his ‘swiss cheese boxers’ Kuroo called them, and Kuroo’s old Nekoma hoodie that was three sizes too big.
It hung nearly to his mid thigh and the sleeves were so long he could’ve fit a small animal in the excess, but it smelled like Kuroo and was still soft even after years of wear and tear. So he ‘borrowed’ it.
“Oh.” Kuroo swallowed once, “You look cute.”
Okay. Well.
Shifting uncomfortably on their cheap and kind of smelly couch from Goodwill, Kuroo shoved his grandpa glasses (Kenma had to sit down and count to 10 the first time he saw Kuroo in said grandpa glasses) up the bridge of his nose and focused extra intensely on his chemistry book.
Face on fire and completely unsure of what to do , Kenma decided to sink onto the couch next to Kuroo and lay his head onto his shoulder. Instinctually, Kuroo wrapped his arm around Kenma’s waist.
“You wanna play Mario Kart?” A beat later, “And will you do my laundry?”
Okay so that one wasn’t as easy to explain away, so he opted for Kuroo’s just like that and moved on.
The last memory that played in his mind before he had decided he had had enough, was that miserable day in the train station.
His chest twisted even now, years later, thinking about Kuroo standing teary eyed on the platform with packed bags surrounding him. It was finally time for him to be shipped off to uni, and Kenma was being left behind.
“Just come with me. I can keep you in my dorm like a pet cat.” he joked, but Kenma heard the plea laced in the words.
“Do I have to shit in a litter box?” The knot in his stomach loosening just a smidge from Kuroo’s stupid, ugly, adorable, laugh echoing around them.
He remembered the feeling of Kuroo’s arms wrapped tightly around him, warm breath at the crown of his head as the train screeched to a halt behind them.
“I’ll miss you. Call me. I love you. Go to practice on Sundays.” he all but barfed the words out before grabbing his bags and sprinting onto the train.
For that one Kenma went with number 5 on his list. Kuroo loves me, just not like That.
All of it. Kenma finds platonic reasoning for all of it. Just like he has for the entirety of their friendship.
Because the alternative? To let himself hope and “what if’? Only to feel an incurable ache down to his bones when Kuroo inevitably turned him down? Just the thought was enough to suffocate him.
But Kuroo said something so irresponsibly idiotic at 11pm on a Friday and for the last 5 hours Kenma has been spiralling and terrifyingly close to eating his own hair– so honestly, fuck it .
Kuroo needs to wake up now and tell him what he meant. Why he said that and why he wants Kenma dead.
Early stages of a hangover gnawed at the base of his skull as Kenma stomped back into the kitchen, furious and terribly sleep deprived. He grabbed Kuroo by his annoyingly soft hair, and yanked him into a sitting position.
“Wake up. Now.”
Yelping, Kuroo’s bloodshot, beautiful ( barf) hazel eyes sprung open. Unable to control his stare, Kenma found himself looking to the line of dried drool right by his plump, pink-
Kenma released Kuroo’s hair and for the umpteenth time that night, contemplated murder. Real, brutal, American Psycho type murder.
“What did you mean by that?” Kenma hissed.
“Hah?” Kuroo grumbled, rubbing the back of his head.
Crossing his arms, Kenma glared. “Don’t ‘hah’ me Kuro. What. Did. You. Mean.” The exhaustion made him uncharacteristically bold but no less cranky.
Kuroo gave him a stupid (adorable) look that said what are you on about? And Kenma thought that maybe if he paid him enough, he could get Akaashi to help bury Kuroo’s body. Screwing his eyes tightly closed, Kenma let out a deep sigh.
He can do this. It’s time.
“‘I wanna wake up to you everyday’. That’s what you said. To me. About me. What did you mean by that?” And despite what he was trying to avoid, his heart thrummed heavily in his chest, his neck and ears burning scarlet.
“Hah?!” If he says that word one more goddamn time “Kenma come on I…” Kuroo’s body stilled. The only sign that he was actually alive was the clarity clearing the last bits of drunkenness from his mind, thoughts and memories flooding in all at once.
Kenma’s knees nearly gave out from the look of pure terror that swam in those watercolored eyes. For a moment guilt ate at him; maybe Kuroo wasn’t ready for this, maybe using Kuroo’s drunken words to interrogate him is actually a terrible, horrible, thoughtless idea.
“I’m so sorry Kenma. Fuck. Shit . Nothing will change, I swear.” He alternates between grabbing Kenma’s wrists and twisting his fingers together, “I can shove it back down! I was just drunk and you looked so pretty… Fuck wait! I mean– we can go back to normal. Please. Please can we go back to normal.”
Just fucking flabberghasted, Kenma stared at him, similar to the state of paralysis Kuroo had put him in not even 6 hours ago. He watched as Kuroo’s hands trembled on the counter and finally, finally , everything clicked.
God damn Kuroo and his shitty (wonderful) confessions.
“Holy shit.” He breathed, “You love me too.”
“It’s fine, really, I’ve suppressed it for like 16 years so I can do it- wait.” Kuroo’s eyes locked onto Kenma’s, “Did you say ‘too’?”
Kuroo’s dumb, pretty eyes filled with hope and something he knew, without a shadow of a doubt, was meant only for him.
Something he saw in fleeting moments and in the earliest parts of the morning; when the sun brought in a golden glow Kuroo said matched Kenma’s eyes, and the room filled with sleepy, soft laughter.
Heart pounding in his ears, Kenma could only nod once.
Before Kenma knew what was happening, his feet were swept off the ground, strong familiar arms he spent way too much time staring at wrapped around his waist, and he was spinning . They looked like one of the couples in those corny rom-coms Kuroo forced (he was not forced) him to watch.
It made him want to gag a little, but he loved it anyway.
And god, does he love Kuroo.
His feet met the floor again and Kuroo kept his chin resting on Kenma’s shoulder, “Say it,” He whispered into Kenma’s hair, “Please.”
“I love you.” And just for good measure, “I’m in love with you.”
The room spun once again as Kuroo’s stupid, ugly, adorable laugh sounded through the kitchen and directly into his ear. That laugh rang down into the depths of his soul, warming a piece of him held only for Kuroo. Kenma’s own laugh followed, the tandem a pretty song he could listen to forever.
“I love you! God Kenma, I love you so much. I’ve loved you since we were kids.”
They clung to each other like their lives depended on it, chests flush and noses mushed together. Kuroo had a smile so big and blinding; his eyes full of wonder and affection. And dammit Kenma is an idiot .
“I’m so stupid.” Kenma huffed a laugh.
“You are.”
“You were painfully obvious.”
“I was not .”
“Were too.”
“Was not.”
Chuckling, Kenma ran his fingers through Kuroo’s disaster of a bed head and smiled fondly, “You can kiss me now ya know.”
Kuroo’s lids drooped as he eyed Kenma’s mouth, a terrifying smirk tilting his lips up. Kenma’s heart thrashed in his chest and anticipation swallowed him as his tongue dipped out, wetting his lips.
For never having kissed someone before (besides that one time Kuroo asked to ‘practice kiss’ when they were 9 and pecked him) (oh my god I really am an idiot) Kenma had spent an embarrassing amount of hours dreaming about what it would be like to kiss someone. Well, to kiss Kuroo.
No day dream could have ever prepared him.
Their faces were close enough together that all it took was Kuroo tilting Kenma’s chin up slightly, and their lips were pressed together. Soft and silken against his own, Kenma’s blood rushed through his veins. His heart screamed and lept and Kenma knew Kuroo felt it too.
Heat blossomed in his chest, as Kuroo’s hands found home on his waist. Tilting his head up to deepen the kiss, Kenma’s knees nearly buckled beneath him. Together they stood in the middle of their dimly lit kitchen, sharing a moment years passed due, blissfully unaware of the world around them– just two idiots in love.
What could have been seconds or days later, they broke apart and Kuroo immediately began peppering kisses across Kenma’s scarlet face, inciting an embarrassingly soft giggle out of him.
But Kenma didn’t care. No, not at all.
Because Kuroo loved him (yes like That)