Archive of Our Own ^beta

The stage lights shined down on him, casting a halo around the figure at the center—Kuro, the charismatic idol and singer who could command any crowd with his smirk. The fans screamed the last lyrics of his final song, the lyrics giving way to a single, ecstatic roar that reverberated through the venue. The music swelled, and with a flourish, Kuroo struck his iconic pose, a grin on his face as he basked in the cheers from adoring fans. The sound of applause and screams washed over him like a wave, drowning out the sound of his pounding heart.

After a moment, the music picked back up, and Kuroo jumped up, waving towards the crowd. “Thank you!” he called out, voice smooth and captivating despite giving another flawless performance. “You’ve been amazing! I’ll see you next time!”

With that, music and the crowd blended into a roar, and in chaotic flashes of light and puffs of smoke, Kuroo hurried offstage, now hidden from the crowd. The moment he crossed the threshold into the wings, out of sight from the audience, the mask slipped.

Kuroo’s shoulders slumped as the weight of the performance settled over him. People bustled around him, someone handing him a towel, a drink being pushed into his hand, and he let himself be moved around to remove the equipment on him. He could still hear the cheers of the crowd, but now they felt more like a distant memory, a sound from another world. The slick, confident persona of “Kuro” melted away, revealing a different person underneath. The ever-present smirk faded, replaced by an exhausted expression as he ran a hand through his sweat-dampened hair.

He let out a heavy sigh, ignoring the usual pleasantries he received from staff telling him how excellent his performance was. He gave a weary smile, brushing everyone off as he nearly dragged himself to his dressing room. The vibrant energy that had electrified him on stage was gone, leaving only the dull ache of exhaustion in its wake. He felt the tension that had coiled in his muscles during the performance slowly unravel, but it came with a price. His body ached, his head throbbed, and his eyes burned from the stage lights and smoke.

Inside the dimly lit room, Kuroo leaned heavily against the door, eyes closed, savoring the brief moment of solitude. He didn’t have long. In just a few minutes, he would have to put the mask back on, pretend to be the idol everyone adored, and meet the fans already lining up to see him. His manager’s voice came muffled through the door, reminding him of the tight schedule.

“Five minutes, Kuro. Then it’s meet-and-greet time. You know the drill.”

Kuroo swallowed the groan that threatened to escape and straightened up, forcing himself to take a few deep breaths. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror—his eyes were dull, the fatigue clear in the lines etched across his face. He took a moment to adjust his expression, smoothing out the exhaustion, replacing it with the easy charm that came so easily on stage.

He put on his smile, the one that could melt hearts and ignite envy, and gave his reflection his signature wink. Then, with one final breath, he turned away from the mirror, squaring his shoulders and rolling his neck to shake off the weariness. The idol mask slid back into place, his eyes lighting up with the manufactured spark he’d perfected over the years.

Kuroo opened up his door, and staff immediately rushed in. He didn’t have to think as everything was taken care of for him. A change of clothes, makeup and hair touch-ups, and soon enough, he was being ushered to the area to meet fans. The fatigue was still there even as he stepped out, buried deep under layers of practiced charisma, but no one would ever know. To the world, he was Kuro, the idol who loved his job and fans more than anything.

He could be that for just a little while longer.

The room had already been filled with the dull roar of idle chatter, but as soon as he stepped in, cheers erupted from the line that had been formed. Excited talking, declarations of love, the rustling of bags no doubt full of merch, and the scent of various perfumes—it was an environment Kuroo had grown accustomed to. But today, something felt off. There was an odd tension he’d never felt before, even when the more intense fans had come to these events. Something was wrong. While scanning the crowd, his smile wavered slightly when his eyes landed on a group of men. They were too conspicuous to be regular fans—stoic expressions, dark suits, and an aura that screamed danger. Kuroo’s heart jumped to his throat.

Yakuza? The thought crept into his mind, and his chest tightened with unease. Surely not. What could yakuza possibly be doing here? Before he could get too lost in his head, Kuroo quickly forced his signature smile back into place, reminding himself that no matter who was in the audience, his role was to remain composed and charismatic. Kuro, the idol, couldn’t afford to let fear slip through the cracks.

The event began with excited cheers from the crowd, and Kuroo maintained his composure. He signed autographs, posed for selfies, and engaged in the usual small talk. But still, his eyes kept drifting back to the imposing group of men, his anxiety increasing with every step they took closer. If anyone noticed his growing unease, nothing was said.

Much too soon for his liking, Kuroo found himself face-to-face with the very source of his nerves.

“KUROOO!” 

Kuroo, used to the high-pitched, feminine squeals of fans, was startled by the deep shout, and he nearly flinched as a man just as tall as him and significantly broader bounded towards him, grinning ear to ear. The man wore a merch shirt, contrastingly tucked into expensive suit pants, with hair wild enough to counter Kuroo’s usual messy hair. And strangely enough, the man’s enthusiasm was almost childlike, entirely at odds with the intimidating aura of the men who flanked him.

Kuroo blinked a few times, taken aback. This was not what he had expected. The man before him looked more like an overexcited puppy than a dangerous yakuza figure like the others with him. His heart, pounding in apprehension, slowed to a more manageable pace.

“Kuro! I finally get to meet you! I’m Bokuto!” His voice boomed with unrestrained excitement, and he eagerly grabbed one of Kuroo’s hands in both of his. Kuroo couldn’t help but compare the sizes of their hands. “I’ve been waiting for this moment for forever! And with all the rumors, I just had to finally meet you!”

Kuroo’s stomach dropped at the mention of the rumors, but he forced himself to focus. He couldn’t worry about himself. Even if this person— Bokuto, his mind supplied—was with seemingly dangerous men, he was still a fan. And Kuro wasn’t one to disappoint his fans.

Smiling brightly, Kuroo raised his other hand to join Bokuto’s, squeezing their hands together. “It’s so nice to meet you, Bokuto! Thanks for coming to see me!”

Bokuto leaned in closer, and Kuroo caught a whiff of expensive cologne. He was used to fans forgetting about personal space, too excited to follow social norms, but this was different. Something about Bokuto getting so close made Kuroo want to run away. He could even feel his face heating up, and he wasn’t sure it was fear causing the reaction.

“You’re even more amazing in person!” Bokuto continued, eyes sparkling with admiration. “I’ve been following your career for years! Your music, your performances—everything about you is perfect!”

Kuroo couldn’t help his amusement. This guy, who could only be described as eccentric, was so sincere in his admiration that it was endearing. And though he wouldn’t admit it, Bokuto was ridiculously attractive. The kind of handsome that could have easily made him an idol himself if it wasn’t for whatever shady business he was currently in.

Kuroo had let himself be distracted. It was unlike him to get so caught up in a fan interaction that he lost himself, but here he was, the crowd fading away like he and Bokuto were the only ones in the room. But he was quickly snapped out of his reverie when Bokuto suddenly turned to his men, face changing to a pout. 

“Why aren’t you taking pictures? Recording? Anything?!”

The men immediately scrambled to pull their phones out, and Kuroo could see a mixture of mild fear and exasperation on their faces as they held their phones up. Kuroo settled back into his idol persona, smiling and posing for pictures.

“I’m so glad to hear you’ve been a fan for so long,” Kuroo said, wrapping an arm around Bokuto for pictures. It was no different from how he interacted with any other fan, but Kuroo noticed how much bigger Bokuto was. His long-sleeved shirt was tight across his chest, and Kuroo barely kept his eyes from wandering. 

“Oh yeah, basically since you started!” Bokuto exclaimed, bouncing on his feet a little and taking Kuroo with him. “We’re the same age! So I thought it was so cool that you were eighteen and getting to do all of this stuff while I…” Bokuto trailed off, glancing off as he seemingly realized his mistake. “Well. I really looked up to you.” he settled on.

The awkward end to his sentence put Kuroo back on edge once again as he understood the implication of Bokuto’s words. Suddenly, he could feel the weight of the stares from Bokuto’s men once more, making the situation all the more surreal. The fans in line started murmuring among themselves, noticing how long Bokuto was taking. The staff, usually quick to move things along, were uncharacteristically hesitant, clearly intimidated by the presence of Bokuto’s entourage.

“Oi! You’re hogging all of Kuro’s time!” a girl in line shouted, her tone sharp with annoyance.

Bokuto, to Kuroo’s surprise, didn’t seem offended. Instead, he stepped away from Kuroo and turned to the girl, giving a sheepish grin. “Ah, sorry about that! I just got a little carried away. Kuro’s just so cool, y’know?” He then glanced back at Kuroo, and his smile turned to something warmer that caused butterflies to form in his stomach. “Sorry for holding you up. Thanks for making my day!”

With that, Bokuto moved to the exit, his men following behind without a word. Kuroo watched him go, a mixture of relief and curiosity swirling in his chest. He kept his eyes on Bokuto a bit too long, nearly jolting when he heard that familiar high-pitched exclamation of his name, and he turned to the girls now approaching him. He quickly put on his act, bringing his attention to the fans before him. He had a job to do, and the last thing he needed was to get distracted. 

Kuroo finished the meet-and-greet without issues, interacting with fans as usual and going along with staff as needed, but his mind was elsewhere. Once changed into casual clothes, Kuroo managed to dodge the remaining staff members and slip right out one of the side entrances. Despite how often he was scolded for it, Kuroo oftentimes snuck away from his staff. At this point in his career, Kuroo was hardly worried about getting in trouble, and he was confident in his abilities to not be found out by fans.

The night air was cool against Kuroo’s skin as he finally got away from the building, pulling his hoodie over his head and adjusting his mask. His body was tired, every muscle aching after hours of smiling, interacting, and being “Kuro.” It was a relief to escape, even if only for a moment. No lights, no cameras, no one watching his every move.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, stepping into the quiet streets unnoticed, or so he hoped. These late-night escapes had become routine for him—just him and the city, hidden behind layers of fabric and anonymity. But even now, his mind was racing, replaying the events of the day, particularly Bokuto’s unexpected appearance. Kuroo couldn’t help but wonder why someone like him was a fan, much less at such a high-profile event. It was strange.

His mind wandered, replaying their interaction over in his head, and he paused when he remembered Bokuto’s mention of the rumors. 

Retirement, he thought, the word lingering uncomfortably in his head. That’s what the rumors were about. He had to give it to Bokuto—it wasn’t like he’d asked him about it, but the mention had hit a sore spot. It was the thing that kept gnawing at him. He was 28 now, and by the time this contract was up, he’d be 29. It wasn’t old by any means, but it might as well be ancient in idol years. Nearly twelve years in the industry made him a veteran of it, and while the fame had been everything he’d wanted once upon a time, now it felt like he was suffocating under it. The endless pressure, the constant eyes on him, the—

His thoughts were interrupted by the unmistakable sensation of being watched. His instincts immediately kicked in, and Kuroo quickened his pace. He hoped the feeling would fade or that maybe it was a staff member chasing him down. It would hardly be the first time for that. But then, the voice came, soft but unsettling, too familiar in all the wrong ways.

“Kuro.” Her voice sliced through the quiet night, making his blood run cold.

Kuroo didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. He had seen this woman before—an overly obsessed fan who had crossed the line months ago, always managing to slip through the cracks. She showed up at events, left unsettling messages, sent strange gifts, and somehow always knew where he was staying. At first, Kuroo had tried to be kind, handling it with the polished grace expected of an idol. But tonight, something felt different. The urgency in her footsteps echoed louder with every step, the intensity in her voice as she called out to him again sent a profound chill down his spine. His breath hitched, heart pounding erratically as his thoughts scrambled for an escape. He could feel the adrenaline coursing through him, but it paralyzed him just as much as it pushed him to move.

“Kuro, don’t ignore me.”

His hands tightened in his pockets, fingers gripping the fabric as his mind scrambled for a plan. Despite the rising panic, he turned slightly, forcing a polite smile onto his face as he faced her. “It’s late, Yuka. You should head home.”

But she didn’t stop, her gaze intense, so focused that it made his stomach churn with unease. “Why do you always do this? You act like I’m just some random fan, like I don’t matter.”

You’re a stalker, not a fan. He wanted to say, but he knew better. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, the aura around her striking genuine fear into him. He took a cautious step back, his heart rate spiking. “It’s late, Yuka,” he repeated, using her name in an attempt to calm her. “Let’s talk another time, okay?”

You’re a stalker, not a fan. The thought burned at the back of his throat, but he swallowed it down. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and the aura around her struck genuine fear into him. He took a cautious step back, his heart rate spiking. “It’s not like that. I just think we should talk another time. This isn’t the best place or hour, you know?”

“That’s what you always say! Every time!” Her voice grew louder, more desperate. “You think you can just flash that smile and push me away? I’m not stupid, Kuro. I see through you. I know who you really are.”

The air felt heavy, suffocating. Kuroo’s chest tightened as Yuka stepped closer, her movements jittery, frantic. His practiced composure was slipping, fear creeping into his voice. “I don’t want any trouble, okay? We can talk about this later when it’s safer for both of us.”

“No! You’re doing it again!” Yuka’s expression twisted, frustration palpable. “You’re pretending like I’m just another fan, like I’m nobody! I’m not nobody to you, Kuro! I’m the one who really understands you!”

Kuroo’s instincts screamed at him to run, but he tried to reason with her one last time. “Yuka, I’m asking you nicely—just go home. This isn’t going to end well if you keep pushing.”

“You think you can get rid of me that easily? You can’t keep lying, Kuro! You’re mine! You belong to me, not them!”

His patience snapped. The fear in his chest had reached its peak, turning into something sharper. “Enough, Yuka. I’m serious. Leave me alone.”

Her eyes widened, frantic and wild. “You can’t say that! You don’t get to say that! You can’t just walk away from me like I’m nothing! I know the real you, Kuro! I know everything!”

Fear took hold in his chest as he realized there was no reasoning with her. His pulse roared in his ears as he turned on his heel and sprinted down the street, breath coming in sharp gasps. He could hear her footsteps pounding behind him, her voice shrill and angry, but he didn’t dare look back.

Shit, shit, shit. His mind raced, but just as panic threatened to overwhelm him, he collided with something solid.

Kuroo’s breaths were coming in shallow gasps, the world around him a blur of night shadows and panic. His mind screamed to run, but his body was frozen—until something solid collided with him. A large hand gripped his shoulder to steady him, and the touch made him snap back to the present. Kuroo looked up, still breathless, but this time with a confusing mix of relief and fear as Bokuto stood there, his expression unreadable in the dark.

Bokuto’s gaze locked onto Yuka, where she’d stopped, and something dangerous flickered across his face. “You lost?” His voice was low and calm, but it carried an edge that sent shivers down Kuroo’s spine.

Yuka hesitated, clearly unnerved by Bokuto’s presence. “This is between me and Kuro,” she said quietly, though her voice wavered.

Bokuto let out a small laugh, but there was no warmth in it. “It’s not just between you anymore. You need to leave. Now.”

Yuka faltered, taking a half-step back, but she wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “You can’t tell me what to do!” She stomped her foot childishly before declaring, “He’s mine!”

Kuroo felt Bokuto shift against him, his hand brushing briefly against his back in reassurance. “Here’s the thing,” Bokuto said, his voice dangerously soft as he moved around Kuroo and towards the woman. “If you keep this up, I’ll make sure you regret it.” His hand moved toward his waist subtly, but the movement was enough to draw her attention as he pushed his jacket away just a bit.

For the first time, genuine fear flashed across Yuka’s face. Though Kuroo couldn’t see what was happening, he had a feeling Bokuto had revealed something terrifying hidden away under his jacket.

Yuka paled. “I—I didn’t mean to—” she stammered, bravado crumbling as she took several stumbling steps backwards. “I won’t bother him again. I swear.”

Yuka suddenly spun around and began sprinting in the opposite direction, her footsteps fading as she frantically moved as far away from Bokuto as possible.

Kuroo stood frozen, his mind trying to process what had just happened. The relief of being saved was overwhelming, but there was something else too—something unsettling about how Bokuto handled the situation. There had been no violence, but the implication had been more than enough.

Bokuto turned to him, his expression softening immediately, concern replacing the dangerous glint in his eyes. “You okay?” he asked, his tone gentle now.

Kuroo nodded, though he wasn’t entirely sure if that was true. “Yeah…I think so. Um. Thanks.”

Bokuto smiled a bit sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “Sorry if I scared you. I just couldn’t let that creep get away with that.”

Nodding slowly, Kuroo swallowed hard, watching the expressions on Bokuto’s face change from genuinely apologetic to saddened understanding. “Right. I’ll get going then. Get back safe, okay?”

As Bokuto began to turn, Kuroo called out to him without thinking his words through. “Hey, wait.”

Bokuto immediately stopped in his tracks, turning back around, and those puppy dog eyes came back, looking hopeful. Kuroo hesitated for only a moment before finally saying, “Do you wanna grab dinner?” he looked away, hoping his mask hid the way his face was turning red. “As a thank-you,” he added quietly.

Bokuto’s face lit up instantly, his grin wide and excited. “Dinner with Kuro ? Hell yeah, I’m in!”

Kuroo couldn’t help but laugh, some of the tension melting away as he stepped closer to Bokuto. Despite everything, he was glad he was there.

***

Kuroo swiped between apps on his phone as he waited in the lobby of an upscale cafe, wearing a mask and his hair hanging down over his eyes. His leg bounced quickly, eyes darting to the door every time someone came in. He wasn’t sure why he felt so uneasy—it was just a meeting with Bokuto. Nothing different from their usual. They’d done this a few times now, meeting up when Kuroo had a spare moment between idol duties. But today felt different. Maybe this time was different because Bokuto had invited him on an outing rather than showing up wherever Kuroo was.

Bokuto was running late, but Kuroo wasn’t worried. He really wasn’t. Bokuto being late seemed to be the norm, and Kuroo certainly couldn’t blame him. Really, Kuroo wasn’t even sure how Bokuto seemingly had so much free time to tag along to whatever Kuroo did, wherever he did it. In the time since they’d met, Kuroo had been all over Japan, and no matter where he ended up, if he had a moment of free time, Bokuto was there. It really made Kuroo wonder just what kind of work Bokuto did.

Because they hadn’t talked about it. Not really. Bokuto was yakuza; that much was a given. But with his apparent endless free time and goofy, energetic nature, Kuroo found himself puzzled. What kind of yakuza chased idols around instead of doing...well, whatever it is that yakuza do?

Glancing at the time, Kuroo sighed softly. It was a good thing Bokuto was so late today. It gave him some time to collect himself, to get the silly thoughts out of his head. Kuroo was determined to maintain his calm, logical approach during this outing. This wasn’t a date, and he wasn’t thinking about it as a date. They were just two friends hanging out. That’s all it was. It didn’t matter that Bokuto had asked him out, planned a whole day, or that he’d texted Kuroo that morning with an almost obnoxious amount of emojis. It wasn’t a date.

Except that Kuroo kind of—definitely—wanted it to be. Kuroo smacked his forehead with his phone, earning himself a weird look from the hostess, trying to rid his brain of the thought. He hated to admit it, but he liked Bokuto much more than he should. Despite everything, despite his brain telling him very clearly that falling for him was a bad idea, the goofy, charming weirdo had somehow found his way into Kuroo’s heart, and he was helpless to stop it.

The chime above the door jingled, and Kuroo’s head snapped up yet again. Bokuto was there this time, wearing his usual grin and looking just as enthusiastic as ever. “Kuroo!” he called, causing a few heads to turn their way as he bounded over.

“Bokuto,” Kuroo greeted, standing up and trying to stay neutral, but he couldn’t stop the grin that spread across his face. And his heart certainly wasn’t playing along either, beating a little faster in his chest.

Bokuto pulled Kuroo into an unexpected hug, and Kuroo could feel the heat immediately rise up in his face. “Sorry I’m late! Got caught up with some stuff. But I’m here now, so let’s get this party started!”

“It’s fine,” Kuroo said as they pulled back from each other, avoiding meeting Bokuto’s eyes as he tried to calm his pounding heart. I’ve only been here a few minutes.”

Kuroo felt the eyes of the hostess on him, and her gaze clearly said a few? which he chose to ignore. Twenty minutes wasn’t that long.

They took their seats in the cozy booth Bokuto had reserved, the café’s warm atmosphere and soft music providing a relaxing backdrop. Now shielded from the eyes of others, Kuroo removed his mask and tried to focus on the menu. However, his thoughts kept drifting to the fact that he was sitting across from Bokuto on what could be a date. Bokuto rambled on, unaware of Kuroo’s internal struggle. They ordered their food, and as they waited, the conversation flowed easily, just like it always did.

“How’s idol life treating you?” Bokuto asked as their food arrived, his tone casual but eyes narrowing in concern.

Kuroo shrugged, playing with his chopsticks. “Hectic. Exhausting. But I’m used to it.”

“But you still enjoy it, right?” Bokuto pressed, his eyes searching Kuroo’s face.

Kuroo hesitated. Enjoy? He loved performing and the rush of being on stage, loved getting to travel and meet people, loved the fans even when they could be wild. But there were days when the pressure of maintaining a flawless image—the constant shift between who he was on stage and who he really was—felt like too much, especially after years of being in the spotlight. “It’s…complicated,” he admitted, not meeting Bokuto’s gaze.

Bokuto nodded, reading the tension in Kuroo’s voice, and smoothly steered the conversation into something more lighthearted. They ate and laughed, and Kuroo found himself unwinding as the evening continued. By the time they left the café, the earlier tension had faded, leaving him in surprisingly high spirits.

As they walked down the street, Bokuto’s face lit up with excitement. “I have a surprise for you,” he said, an eager bounce in his step.

“A surprise?” Kuroo raised an eyebrow.

“Yep! Trust me, you’ll love it.”

Curiosity piqued, Kuroo followed Bokuto to a nearby sports complex. Inside, he stopped in his tracks—before them wasn’t just a gym but a volleyball court with several players already warming up.

“Remember how you said you missed playing?” Bokuto asked, grinning. “I pulled some strings. Thought we could have a match.”

Kuroo’s heart swelled with a wave of nostalgia and excitement. They’d bonded over volleyball on their first not-date, but Kuroo wouldn’t have expected this. He hadn’t played in years, and the thought of stepping back on the court made him smile. “This is amazing.”

Bokuto beamed and tossed him a gym bag that hadn’t been there moments ago—he must’ve grabbed it while Kuroo was distracted. “I even brought clothes for you. Hope they fit.”

Kuroo took the bag, feeling a surge of warmth at the thoughtfulness. “Thanks, Bokuto. Really.”

They changed quickly and joined the game. The moment Kuroo stepped onto the hardwood court, memories came flooding back—late-night practices, high school tournaments, the adrenaline of competition. Bokuto was a force on the court, his energy contagious. They played back and forth, their skills returning quickly despite not practicing for so long.

After a few intense matches, the other players packed up and left, leaving Kuroo and Bokuto alone, drenched in sweat but grinning.

“That was awesome,” Kuroo panted, hands on his knees as he caught his breath.

“Not bad for someone who hasn’t played in years,” Bokuto teased, nudging him playfully.

Kuroo chuckled. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

As they headed to the locker room, Kuroo’s heart still raced with the buzz of the game. When Bokuto pulled off his shirt to change, Kuroo’s eyes landed on the intricate tattoos stretching across his back and arm, and his smile fell. He’d known about Bokuto’s yakuza connections, but seeing the tattoo in person brought a new weight to it. The designs were both beautiful and unsettling—a stark reminder of the world Bokuto belonged to.

Kuroo’s stomach tightened, and he quickly averted his gaze, trying to seem unfazed. But Bokuto noticed. His cheerful expression softened, and he turned to face Kuroo.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Bokuto said quietly, the usual warmth in his voice dimming. “The tattoos… they’re part of me, part of where I come from. But they don’t change who I am with you.”

Kuroo swallowed hard, unease rising in his chest. “It’s just…seeing them makes it more real. I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Bokuto nodded, understanding. “I get it. And I don’t want to scare you. I would never let anything happen to you, Kuroo. You know that, right?”

It was Kuroo’s turn to nod, but a sliver of discomfort remained. “Yeah…I know.”

Bokuto’s expression softened further, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Besides, I’m still the same guy who just broke through your block.”

Kuroo managed a laugh, the atmosphere lightening again. “Give me a break, I haven’t played in a while.”

“So what I’m hearing is we’re playing again soon?”

They both laughed, but even as conversation flowed normally once more, the lingering image of his tattoos still flickered in Kuroo’s mind. He couldn’t fully reconcile the Bokuto he knew with the world those tattoos represented, but maybe that was okay. He didn’t need to understand every piece of Bokuto’s life right now.

What mattered was that Bokuto was here, going out of his way to bring Kuroo joy, to offer him an escape from his hectic world. That was something real—something Kuroo could hold on to.

As they left the gym, the cool night air wrapped around them, and Kuroo realized, with a sense of relief, that he felt a little lighter for the first time in a while.

***

The show had been meticulously planned. Every step Kuroo took, every word he said, was carefully calculated to meet expectations. Fans screamed from behind the barriers as he smiled and waved. His body moved almost on autopilot, every gesture rehearsed, every expression perfected over years of practice.

But today felt off. It was subtle—just the slightest tension in his shoulders, the way his smile didn’t quite reach his eyes. Maybe it was the fact that Bokuto had started showing up to more of these events, his mere presence throwing Kuroo off-balance and leaving the entire staff whispering in concern. Or maybe it was the weight of everything else—his packed schedule, the constant need to perform, and the feelings he’d been wrestling with about Bokuto.

It was all rising to the surface, threatening to break through Kuroo’s perfect facade.

Kuroo smiled wide as the final part of the show took place, a local TV host joining him on stage, clapping and encouraging the crowd to cheer more. The host, a middle-aged man with too much foundation on his face, smiled at him warmly. Kuroo had been interviewed by him before. He could get through this like always, and he turned to face the host as the crowd quieted down.

“Kuro, it’s been a while!” the host began, “You’ve had quite the year. New singles, sold-out concerts, and plenty of adoring fans. How do you keep up with it all?”

Kuroo’s smile widened automatically, but when he opened his mouth, no words came. Something twisted viciously in his chest. He tried to push past it, but the tension only tightened its hold.

“You get used to it,” Kuroo managed, his voice a touch shakier than usual. “I just try to stay grounded and remember why I started all of this.”

It wasn’t a lie. But even as the words left his mouth, they tasted bitter.

The host droned on with more questions, each more exhausting than the last. Kuroo’s mind wandered until he saw Bokuto standing apart from the fans, waving with an excited grin. It was a small, comforting sight to see in the faceless crowd.

Suddenly, a person in the front row broke through the barrier, rushing toward the stage. Security was swift to grab her, but the break in routine startled Kuroo. His smile faltered, heart skipping a beat as the crowd erupted into murmurs.

He recovered swiftly, flashing a smile and waving as if nothing had happened. But his hands trembled, and the tightness in his chest deepened. As the interview ended, Kuroo moved offstage, every step rehearsed, offering a final wave to the crowd.

As he entered the backstage area, the familiar sight of staff members immediately greeted him. They swarmed him with their usual efficiency, starting the post-event routine—removing his mic pack, offering water, checking if he needed anything.

“Good job, Kuro-san,” one of the staff members said as they handed him a water bottle. “You handled that well.”

“Kuro-san, you did great!” another chirped, putting a towel around his neck.

Kuroo nodded mechanically, barely registering their words as his vision started to blur around the edges. Each step away from the stage made the trembling in his hands more violent, his pulse echoing in his ears like a constant reminder of the pressure. He tried to control it, but the facade he’d kept up for so long crumbled with every heartbeat. This was the part no one ever saw—the part that terrified him most.

“Kuro-san, are you alright?” someone asked, their voice tinged with concern.

Kuroo couldn’t get a response out, breathing noticeably faster now. The familiarity of routine that usually grounded him after any event felt far away, and Kuroo realized with a slow, creeping dread that he couldn’t get ahold of himself.

“Kuroo,” a firm voice cut through the haze, not calling the idol but calling him —his manager. The man rushed over, brow furrowed as he approached the staff. “Give him some space,” he said, directing the staff away with a wave of his hand. “You okay?”

Kuroo blinked, trying to focus, but everything felt off. His manager’s face blurred as his chest tightened until it felt like there wasn’t enough air in the room.

“Tetsurou,” his manager said softly, his tone shifting from stern to concerned as he took hold of Kuroo’s arm. He lowered his voice so only Kuroo could hear, “Come on. Let’s go.”

Kuroo couldn’t respond but didn’t have to as his manager led him off. His feet moved on autopilot as his mind spiraled, body betraying him at every turn. His thoughts raced, incoherent fragments of doubt and fear colliding in his mind. Why am I even doing this? I can’t keep this up. I can’t—

Behind them, Bokuto had been watching the entire event from the shadows of the backstage area. He hadn’t interfered, but he could obviously tell something was wrong. He started to follow, calling out, “Kuroo? Hey, what’s going on? Is he okay?”

Kuroo’s manager glanced back at Bokuto, and despite his own concerns, he knew Kuroo trusted this man. “It happens sometimes,” he admitted, his tone quiet but calm. “Let me handle this.”

Bokuto frowned, question unanswered, but he followed until they entered Kuroo’s private dressing room. The manager gestured for Bokuto to stay back, though his heart only broke as Kuroo seemingly fell apart.

“Shit!” Kuroo exclaimed, voice thick with tears as he grabbed the mic pack still strapped to him, ripping it off to fling across the room, surely breaking it. He then crumpled down into a crouch, head nearly between his knees as he shoved the heels of his palms into his stinging eyes. 

Kuroo felt his manager crouch beside him, and he tried to will away the panic and tears, but it only intensified. He choked on a sob as his tears spilled over, hands sliding up to grip his hair, pulling at it in a desperate attempt to ground himself.

“Breathe, Tetsurou,” his manager’s voice cut through the sound of his heart in his ears, and gentle hands guided his away from his hair. “Breathe, kid.”

Kuroo heard the words, but his body refused to listen, only crying harder. The walls felt like they were closing in. His heart was going to beat right out of his chest— this had to be what dying felt like.

Bokuto couldn’t stay back any longer. Ignoring the manager’s quick warning not to come closer, he knelt in front of Kuroo. Without a word, he wrapped his arms around Kuroo, pulling him into a tight embrace.

Kuroo went rigid for a moment, not expecting to be touched, much less held, but then his body moved instinctively. He buried his face in Bokuto’s chest, his hands clutching the fabric of his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to reality. Bokuto didn’t say a word; he just held him tight, his arms warm and unwavering.

The manager stood back, watching the scene unfold with a soft sigh of relief before heading to the door. “I’ll take care of things,” he said quietly to Bokuto. “Just…stay with him.”

Bokuto nodded, barely glancing up as the manager left the room. His focus was entirely on Kuroo, whose breathing was gradually beginning to slow. Eventually, Bokuto shifted them to a nearby couch, guiding Kuroo to sit down while keeping one arm securely around him. They stayed like that for a long while, the room silent except for Kuroo’s ragged breaths evening out.

Eventually, Kuroo pulled away from Bokuto, body drained and exhausted. He wiped at his face, wiping away the remaining tears. “I… I’m sorry,” he croaked, his voice hoarse. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Don’t apologize,” Bokuto said, his voice low and tender as his hand rubbed soothing circles into Kuroo’s back. Kuroo leaned into the warmth, but it felt fleeting, like something that could slip away if he didn’t hold on tight enough. “You don’t have to explain anything,” Bokuto continued, his tone steady but soft. “I’m just glad you’re here with me, Kuroo. I’ll be here, even when you think you’re falling apart.”

Kuroo wiped at his face, embarrassed by how vulnerable he’d been. He hadn’t intended for anyone to see him like this, but certainly not Bokuto. But here he was, fully exposed, with no way to take it back.

“It doesn’t happen often,” Kuroo added, trying to downplay the situation. “I can usually handle it. I don’t—”

“Kuroo.” Bokuto’s voice was firm but gentle. “It’s okay.”

Kuroo swallowed hard, his eyes downcast. Bokuto’s arm remained around him, solid and reassuring, and despite himself, Kuroo leaned into the warmth. Kuroo closed his eyes for a moment, allowing himself to feel that relief, to sit in the quiet, with no fans, no staff, no cameras. Just Bokuto. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he didn’t have to put on a performance.

And then, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, Bokuto said, “I love you, Kuroo.”

Kuroo’s eyes flew open, and he looked up to see Bokuto grinning at him. It wasn’t the first time he’d said those words, but something about the way he spoke them now, after everything, made them feel different. There was the usual light-heartedness to his tone, something playful even, but there was also a sincerity in his voice that Kuroo had never caught before.

Kuroo’s heart stuttered in his chest. He wanted to brush it off as he always had, chalk it up to Bokuto being a goofy, overzealous fan. But something in the pit of his stomach told him it wasn’t that simple. There was more behind those words than Kuroo had been willing to admit.

“Why do you always say that?” Kuroo asked quietly, his voice a little steadier now but still laced with uncertainty.

Bokuto’s smile softened, and he let out a small chuckle. “Because I do. Tetsurou.”

Kuroo stared at him, realization slowly dawning on him that maybe Bokuto meant something more than just idol admiration. And this time, as his heart began to race, it wasn’t from panic. It was fear. Fear of what it might mean if Bokuto’s feelings were real. He was scared of what it would mean for their friendship, for the carefully constructed walls Kuroo had built around his emotions. But there was also something else. Something that made him feel seen, understood in a way that no one else had managed before.

“I don’t think I really get it all yet,” Bokuto eventually added, almost thoughtfully, and he pulled Kuroo even closer to him. “But I want to. I want to be there for you, even when things get tough.”

Kuroo took a slow breath, his lips quirking into a small, genuine smile. “You’re kind of a dumbass,” he muttered, tone nothing but affectionate.

Bokuto laughed, the sound light and full of warmth. “Maybe,” he agreed, “But you’ll keep me around anyway.”

Kuroo found himself laughing along with him, and somehow, that was enough.

For now, it was enough.

***

The party was everything Kuroo expected it to be—loud, crowded, and utterly exhausting. The air buzzed with the noise of industry chatter, laughter that felt too forced, and the low hum of music playing softly in the background. It was all the usual after-event stuff. Kuroo had been to more of these than he could count, but it dragged on more than usual tonight. His charming smile was plastered on his face, but his eyes constantly scanned the room, searching for the one person who made all this bearable.

Bokuto was here, blending into the background in a way that shouldn’t have been possible for someone as loud and energetic as he was. But even Bokuto knew how to read the room. Tonight wasn’t about them; it was about Kuro, the idol, the public figure who needed to maintain a perfect image. Bokuto understood that, but Kuroo could feel him drifting farther away as the night went on.

Kuroo mingled, shaking hands with people he barely knew, nodding along to conversations he didn’t care about, and offering polite, fake laughs when required. All the while, his mind was somewhere else. He wanted to be by Bokuto’s side, but the reality of his job kept them apart. Every time Kuroo caught a glimpse of Bokuto in the crowd and chatting, standing off to the side with his arms crossed or leaning against a wall, something inside him ached. He couldn’t stay with him. Not yet.

Kuroo had always been good at putting on a show, at playing his part. Flashing smiles, charming people, making them feel like they were the only ones in the room. He was used to it all, but tonight, whereas usually, he’d be counting down the minutes to get home, he was counting down to when he’d get to be with Bokuto. All night, Kuroo thought about when he would have spent enough time here to make his exit., wondering when it would be acceptable to slip away without raising eyebrows. He wanted to get out of there, be done with the endless small talk, and spend time with Bokuto.

And maybe that was a problem itself—Bokuto. Kuroo was preoccupied entirely with him. He could typically fake his persona without a second thought, but now, he found himself struggling. And what even came of it all? Kuroo’s declining career and a fan living his dream of getting with idol? Kuroo nearly made a face at his own train of thought, catching it just before a camera flashed in his direction.

Taking a slow, quiet, but deep breath, Kuroo tried to dispel some of the tension in his chest. He’d struggled enough in this career before Bokuto had shown up. Just because he was good at it didn’t mean that it came naturally to him. Kuroo had to work to be the idol he was. And maybe it’d all been building up over the years, maybe he was headed for burnout, maybe he was already in it, but he was sure things hadn’t grated on him so much before Bokuto showed up. So why was he still feeling giddy whenever he spotted Bokuto across the room?

Despite Kuroo’s clouded thoughts, the night dragged on.

He kept up his routine, kept smiling and mingling, even as a fellow idol, familiar to him but not close—sidled up next to him, wrapping an arm around his shoulders in a way that felt too intimate. Kuroo felt a prickle of discomfort. The idol leaned in close, his voice dropping low, and Kuroo stiffened as he forced his expression to stay composed.

“Looking good tonight, Kuro,” he murmured, fingers lingering on his shoulder.

“Thanks,” Kuroo replied, his tone polite but distant, already planning his escape. “Busy night, right?”

He tried to pull away, to put some distance between them, but the man didn’t seem to notice or care. He stayed close, too close, hand lingering on him in a way that made Kuroo’s skin crawl. But still, he was used to this. People got handsy, playing up the whole “we’re all friends” thing for the cameras, using their positions to take advantage. Not that it made things any less uncomfortable.

Across the room, Bokuto was watching.

Bokuto tried to stay out of Kuroo’s way all night, giving him the space to do his thing. But when he saw that other idol drape himself over Kuroo, something in him twisted sickeningly. His hands clenched into fists, jealousy rising in him. He knew Kuroo was just doing his job, knew that this was part of the industry, but seeing it happen in front of him—seeing someone else touch Kuroo like that—hit him harder than he expected.

It wasn’t that Bokuto didn’t trust Kuroo. He did. But his insecurities roared to life. Kuroo never said I love you. How does he feel? What if he’s just another fan? What if he’s not the only one? What if Kuroo didn’t see him the same way? Was he just a convenient friend to have around and nothing more?

Bokuto tried to shake off the feeling, but the jealousy lingered. He stepped away from the crowd, distancing himself completely to try to tamp down the frustration building inside him. He couldn’t help but feel that Kuroo was being too friendly, too comfortable with that other guy. And he didn’t know how to combat his spiraling thoughts.

Bokuto moved to stand by the exit, arms crossed, and stared at the floor as he waited for the night to be over.

When Kuroo finally managed to extract himself from the conversation, his first instinct was to find Bokuto. He looked around the room, a strange sense of unease growing in his chest when he didn’t immediately spot him. The night had already been too long, and all he wanted now was to leave with Bokuto. He hadn’t realized just how much he had been looking forward to it until he could no longer see him.

It felt like ages before Kuroo finally spotted Bokuto, finding him alone near the exit. As Kuroo approached, the air around him seemed tense, people going out of their way to avoid Bokuto. Something was off with him, and anxiety rose up in his chest. Bokuto had been too distant all night, and now he didn’t even look up when Kuroo approached, only making his anxiety grow.

“Hey,” Kuroo called as he approached, his voice carefully controlled, aware of the eyes turning towards them as the people lingering nearby realized they were together.

Bokuto looked up, almost startled, before offering a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Hey.”

Kuroo stopped in front of him, trying to gauge the situation. Something was wrong—he could see it in Bokuto’s eyes, in how he held himself. “Everything okay?” Kuroo asked, his tone soft but probing.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Bokuto replied, but his voice was off, the usual warmth missing. He turned to head right out the door, holding it open for Kuroo.

Kuroo frowned, frustration swiftly rising as he followed Bokuto out. He had spent all night dealing with fake smiles and empty conversations, and the one thing that had kept him going was the thought of getting out of there and being with Bokuto. Now that they were finally alone, Bokuto was acting weird, and it was driving Kuroo crazy.

As they got into the car together, Kuroo pressed further, trying to keep his voice steady, but there was undoubtedly an edge to his words. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Bokuto hesitated in answering, averting his gaze when he finally said, “Yeah, I’m sure,” but the lie was blatant.

Kuroo clenched his jaw, feeling his patience slip. He had been holding it together all night, and now, with Bokuto acting distant, it was too much. “You don’t seem fine,” Kuroo said, tone bordering on cold, eyes narrowing. “You’re acting weird.”

Bokuto shifted uncomfortably, avoiding Kuroo’s gaze. “It’s nothing.”

And with that, Kuroo snapped.

“Nothing?” His voice rose, sharp and irritated. “You’re mad at me, aren’t you? Don’t pretend you’re not! If you have something to say, just say it!”

Bokuto flinched at Kuroo’s sudden outburst, turning to face him with wide eyes. “Kuroo—”

“No, don’t ‘Kuroo’ me,” Kuroo interrupted so sharply that even the driver flinched. “You’ve been distant all night, and now you’re saying everything’s fine when it’s clearly not! I’ve been looking forward to getting out of there, to being with you, and now you’re acting like this!”

Bokuto sat there, stunned, as Kuroo’s words tore into him. There was a long pause before Bokuto spoke, his voice quiet and unsure. “I just…I saw you with that other guy. You seemed close.”

Kuroo stared at Bokuto even longer before something inside him broke. “So what, you’re jealous?” Kuroo’s voice cracked, emotions he’d been trying to suppress for months spilling out uncontrollably. “This is my life, Bokuto! Every day, I have to smile, laugh, and pretend everything is perfect—when it’s not. It’s exhausting!” His voice shook, each word pulling out more frustration and pain than he’d ever allowed himself to express. “And you—out of all people—you think I enjoy it?”

Kuroo took a heaving breath, but the words just kept flowing. “And then there’s you, acting like this out of damn jealousy? Honestly, what am I supposed to think at this point? You show up and take care of things, and you’re there for me, and you—” he cut himself off, his anger suddenly dissipating as he realized where he was headed with those words. 

Yet still, he continued, albeit quieter now. “I don’t know what you want from me. This is all some kind of fantasy for you, right? That’s why you’re jealous? You just love this idea of being with an idol and not…” he trailed off this time, the not me part went unspoken but still hung heavy between them.

Kuroo could feel the weight of everything crashing down on him all at once, and he buried his face in his hands. His chest felt tight, his emotions a tangled mess of frustration, insecurity, and fear. He hadn’t intended to bring it up, much less take it all out on Bokuto. Bokuto, who, through everything, stayed silent, taking in Kuroo’s words.

Just as an apology worked its way into Kuroo’s throat, Bokuto spoke up. “Kuroo?” His voice was soft, tender even, and it only made Kuroo want to hide away even more. “Will you look at me, please?”

The gentleness of his request mixed with curiosity made Kuroo raise his head, only to be completely taken aback when he saw a smile on Bokuto’s lips. The shocked expression on his face caused a small chuckle to escape Bokuto, and indignation rose up quickly as Kuroo narrowed his eyes.

“Why are you laughing?” he demanded, frowning deeply with furrowed eyebrows, the regret at lashing out leaving him in an instant.

Bokuto laughed again and quickly shook his head, turning to face Kuroo fully. Despite Kuroo’s exasperation, Bokuto’s smile was gentle and full of warmth. “I’m not laughing because it’s funny, Kuroo. I’m just happy because I get it now.”

Kuroo blinked at him, expression changing to one of confusion. But Bokuto continued on, voice steady but soft, eyes locked onto Kuroo’s with a sincerity that made his heart skip a beat. “You think I only care about the idol version of you, yeah? That I’m some fan living the dream, and I only want Kuro.”

Kuroo felt his throat tighten as Bokuto slid closer, closing the distance between them. He reached out, his hand warm and steady as he grabbed Kuroo’s, gaze unwavering where he stared into Kuroo’s eyes. Kuroo completely forgot his frustration and anxiety as he grew incredibly flustered, face going red from the proximity and the look in his eyes. He wanted so badly to pull his hand away, to get away from Bokuto and escape the intense emotions building up in his chest, but there was nowhere to go.

“Yeah, I loved Kuro at first,” Bokuto admitted, and Kuroo’s heart fluttered at the implications of his words. At first. “But now I love you. Tetsurou. The guy who’s exhausted but keeps going anyway. The guy who hates pretending and loves volleyball. The one who’s somehow missed that I’m completely in love with him and is looking at me like I’m insane right now.”

Kuroo’s face was burning, throat tight. He opened his mouth to respond, but no words came out. He felt incredibly exposed, vulnerable in a way that terrified him, and he didn’t know how to deal with it. Bokuto’s voice cut through the chaos of it all.

“I don’t care about everything else,” Bokuto squeezed his hand, leaning so far into his space that Kuroo was certain he could hear his heartbeat. “I’m here for you. I’m in love with you , Kuroo Tetsurou.”

His full name struck something in his chest, and he struggled to swallow the lump in his throat as Bokuto’s words sunk in. For so many years, Kuroo was terrified that no one would see past the idol version of him, that no one would ever see who he truly was. At least not in the way he was longing for. And yet, here Bokuto was, seeing the real him in a way no one else ever had. He was sure not even Kenma had ever seen him so profoundly, and Bokuto’s eyes seemed to glow in the passing streetlights as he stared into Kuroo’s. 

Without realizing it, Kuroo finally began to relax, leaning more into Bokuto and getting closer. He cleared his throat, pretending his eyes weren’t stinging as he finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper, “I don’t know what to do, Bokuto. I don’t…I don’t know how to be with you like this.” Kuroo’s voice trembled, his chest tightening with every word. He’d spent so long hiding behind the walls he’d built, pretending that the idol version of himself was all he needed to be. But here, with Bokuto, it wasn’t enough anymore. Vulnerability clawed at him, fear of being exposed in a way that could shatter him completely. “I’m scared,” Kuroo admitted, barely above a whisper. “Scared of what this might do to us. To me. What if I can’t keep up? What if I’m not enough once you really know me?”

Bokuto’s face softened, and he reached to cup Kuroo’s cheek. “You don’t have to know everything right now. We can figure it out together,” he murmured, his voice filled with the warmth and steadiness Kuroo had come to rely on. Kuroo leaned into the touch, his breath shaking as he slowly let his defenses fall. The uncertainty, the fear—it was still there. But somehow, with Bokuto, it felt like maybe he didn’t have to face it all alone.

A surge of emotions welled up in Kuroo, and his breathing hitched. There were too many feelings inside to name them all, but at the forefront was relief. More than anything, Kuroo was relieved to have Bokuto, to be absolved of the sole responsibility of carrying his fears, to be seen in a way no one had been able to before. Kuroo fully leaned into Bokuto’s touch, only to be pulled into a warm embrace.

“It’s okay,” Bokuto murmured, his voice soothing in Kuroo’s ear. “I’ve got you. We’ll figure it out.”

Kuroo buried his face in his shoulder, hands gripping Bokuto’s shirt as he let himself sink into the feeling of being held. It felt like everything was just a little lighter. Bokuto was here with him.

After a long moment, Kuroo pulled back slightly, just enough to look at Bokuto’s face. He felt unsure of himself but was no longer scared. Bokuto smiled at him, that soft, genuine smile that made butterflies dance in his stomach.

“Sorry,” Kuroo finally muttered, feeling the sting of embarrassment now that the anger had drained out of him. “I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

Bokuto shook his head. “Don’t apologize. If anything, I should be sorry for making my jealousy your problem. I’m just glad we got to talk.”

Kuroo let out a shaky laugh, looking away. “Still… I’m sorry you had to witness that.”

“Don’t be,” Bokuto said firmly, moving right back into Kuroo’s line of sight. “I want to see all of you.”

Kuroo went wide-eyed at the genuineness of Bokuto’s face, almost wanting to get away from such intense sincerity. He didn’t realize just how much he’d been holding back, and it finally hit him. He wanted this, wanted Bokuto. He wanted Bokuto so badly that it hurt, even if it scared him, even if he didn’t know what would happen next.

And without hesitation, Kuroo pressed his lips to Bokuto’s in a kiss. It started firm, Kuroo’s actions catching them both off guard, but Bokuto quickly gained composure, pulling Kuroo close to deepen the kiss. It didn’t last long, but when they pulled back, they both breathed shakily with flushed faces.

They smiled at each other, and after a moment, a small laugh escaped Kuroo. That one sound was enough to open the floodgates, and the pair burst into giggles, hanging onto each other while they laughed, basking in their shared joy.

As they calmed down, Bokuto turned to him once more, though there was something more serious in his eyes now. “You know,” he began, tone light but genuine. “I’ve been thinking about it for a while, but I wasn’t sure…”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, curious, but his heart picked up once more. “What do you mean?”

Bokuto’s smile widened, and there was a hint of nervousness in the way he glanced away for a second before meeting Kuroo’s gaze again. “I mean, I love you, Kuroo. I want you to be my boyfriend.”

Kuroo gaped at him, completely taken aback by the straightforwardness of the confession. After everything, the simplicity of Bokuto’s words caught him off guard. Before he could stop himself, more laughter escaped him, and he smiled wide at Bokuto.

“You’re really asking me that now?” Kuroo asked through his laughter. “After all of this, you really think you need to ask?”

Bokuto blinked twice, shocked by Kuroo’s reaction, only for his whole face to light up in the way Kuroo loved. “So, is that a yes?”

Kuroo grinned, moving to wrap his arms around Bokuto’s neck. “Yeah, Bokuto. It’s a yes.”

And then Kuroo leaned in, pressing his lips to Bokuto’s, but this time it wasn’t rushed or desperate. It was slow, filled with all the words he couldn’t say. There was a quiet understanding between them now, a deeper connection that shook Kuroo to his core. His heart raced not from fear but from the raw, undeniable vulnerability that came with allowing someone to see every fractured piece of him—and still stay. Bokuto wrapped an arm around Kuroo’s waist, nearly pulling him into his lap, and Kuroo couldn’t help but smile into the kiss.

When they finally separated, everything that needed to be said now out in the open, Kuroo looked out the car window. He smiled to himself, watching the lights fly by, and he felt content for the first time in a long while. There was still uncertainty, still fear, but for now, Kuroo was okay with that. He would put his trust in Bokuto.

Because Bokuto’s love wasn’t about the idol version of him. It wasn’t about the public persona or the polished image. It was about him—the real Kuroo Tetsurou. And for the first time, that felt like enough.

Kuroo had allowed himself to be fully submersed in the moment but looked over quickly when he felt Bokuto move away from him. Horror suddenly slammed into his body as Bokuto leaned into the front seat, and Kuroo was reminded that they just had an audience for that entire moment.

“Kazehiko,” Bokuto said plainly.

“Sir.”

“You didn’t see or hear anything.”

“I have no idea what you mean, boss.”

Bokuto hummed, happy with his subordinate’s response, and plopped back on the seat beside him. Kuroo buried his face in his hands with a groan before peeking through his fingers, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “You’re unbelievable, you know that?” he said, shaking his head at Bokuto, whose expression was pure mischief.

Bokuto nudged Kuroo with his shoulder, leaning in close. “Hey, don’t be embarrassed. It’s not like he hasn’t seen worse.”

Kuroo shot him a look, flustered but unable to keep the grin off his face. “That doesn’t make me feel any better.”

Bokuto chuckled, the sound warming Kuroo from the inside out. “Well, it should. Means you’re special.”

Kuroo’s eyes softened at that, and despite the awkwardness of the moment, he couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief wash over him. It was always like this with Bokuto—everything else, the stress, the pressure, even the embarrassment—faded into the background.

“Yeah, well,” Kuroo sighed, leaning into Bokuto’s side. “I guess I’ll take what I can get.”

Bokuto’s arm tightened around him, pulling him even closer. “That’s the spirit,” he said, his voice light, but the sincerity in his eyes was impossible to miss.

For the rest of the ride, they sat in a comfortable silence, Bokuto’s warmth anchoring Kuroo as they watched the city blur past. The world outside felt distant now, and for the first time in a long while, Kuroo let himself relax, knowing that whatever came next, he wouldn’t face it alone.

Tomorrow might bring chaos, complications, and the spotlight Kuroo sometimes wished he could escape. But for now, here, next to Bokuto, everything felt just right.

And that was more than enough.

***

Bokuto was practically vibrating with excitement as he dragged Kuroo down the street, his hand firmly latched onto Kuroo’s wrist. “Come on! We’re gonna miss it if we don’t hurry!”

Kuroo stumbled slightly as Bokuto increased the pace, eyes wide in sheer disbelief at what his life had become. “Bokuto,” he started, struggling to keep his voice even, “Explain to me why we’re doing this again.”

“I already told you!” Bokuto exclaimed, looking back at him with the most radiant smile Kuroo had ever seen. “We’re getting the limited edition photocard! Your limited edition photocard!”

Kuroo grimaced. “Right. My limited edition photocard. For me. Of me. Because that makes sense.”

Bokuto waved him off, a bounce in his step even as he dragged Kuroo along. “It’s for the thrill, Kuroo! You have to experience this side of things. See how dedicated your fans are!”

Kuroo gave a deadpan look to the back of Bokuto’s head. “You do realize that I’m concerned about being recognized by said dedicated fans, right?”

Bokuto stopped in the middle of the sidewalk, chuckling as Kuroo nearly slammed into him, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “That’s why I brought this!” He opened his back to whip out a ridiculous outfit, shoving it toward Kuroo with all the enthusiasm of someone gifting their friend the ultimate birthday present.

Kuroo stared at the items in disbelief. “What the hell is this?”

“A disguise!” Bokuto said proudly. The disguise in question consisted of a large pair of sunglasses with bright pink lenses, an oversized hoodie that would fit both of them, and a hat with an obnoxiously large logo on the front. It looked like something straight out of a classic cartoon, and Kuroo had no choice in the matter as Bokuto began shoving the items onto him.

“I look like I’m about to commit a heist at a candy store,” Kuroo muttered, snatching the sunglasses from Bokuto before he could poke his eye out with them, and sliding them on.

Bokuto smiled wide, unbothered by Kuroo’s attitude. “No one will suspect a thing.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “And you’re going as…what? A rabid fanboy?”

Bokuto laughed loudly, and Kuroo rolled his eyes at the enthusiasm as he exclaimed, “Exactly!”

Before Kuroo could protest further, Bokuto had already begun dragging him off once more.

“This whole thing is ridiculous, Bo,” Kuroo said, though his anxiety was steadily increasing as they approached the store. Kuroo could already see a line. “I’m going to get recognized instantly.”

But Bokuto was already skipping ahead, utterly unfazed by Kuroo’s protests. “It’ll be fine! Come on! We’re already so late!”

With a resigned sigh, Kuroo followed Bokuto as they finally arrived at the store. The line outside was massive, wrapping around the block, and Kuroo’s heart sank as he recognized what could only be the chatter of obsessive fangirls. This was a terrible idea.

Bokuto, however, was in his element. He practically skipped into line, grabbing Kuroo by the wrist and pulling him along. “Look at this turnout! You’ve got the best fans, Kuroo, really.”

Kuroo immediately winced at the use of his name, and he did his best to hide behind Bokuto. As far as he was concerned, it was only a matter of time before he was found out. 

To make matters worse, Bokuto immediately struck up a conversation with the fans in line. “Hey, are you guys here for the Kuro merch too?” Bokuto asked as if that wasn’t obvious.

The two girls in front of them turned around, both wearing bright smiles, unfazed at the sight of two large men joining them. “Of course! The wait will totally be worth it though. Kuro is so worth it,” one of them said, clasping her hands together while bouncing on her toes in excitement.

Kuroo’s eyes widened behind his oversized sunglasses. Bokuto immediately matched her energy and smile. “Right? He’s seriously amazing! His smile, his voice, his everything—he’s like perfect!”

Kuroo looked away awkwardly, desperately trying to become one with his hoodie. He could feel his ears burning under the hat and wanted nothing more than to escape this situation.

The second girl nodded eagerly at Bokuto’s words. “Yeah! And he’s so charming. Like, I feel like he’s so genuine even though he’s a celebrity, you know? I bet he’s just as nice in real life as he is on TV and stuff!”

Kuroo choked back a groan. It’d be nice for the concrete below to open up and swallow him. And Bokuto, of course, jumped right in. “Oh, absolutely!” he agreed, entirely playing the part of an enthusiastic fan. “I mean, he’s exactly what you’d think. Super nice, super cool. Honestly, I’m like…his biggest fan.”

Kuroo nearly stumbled at Bokuto’s audacity. The girls were eating it up.

“Really?” the first girl asked, her eyes sparkling as she moved closer to Bokuto. “Have you ever met him?”

Bokuto’s grin turned sly. “I have.” He turned to look at Kuroo, who shrunk in on himself. He wanted to crawl into a hole. “The first time was, what? Six or seven months ago?”

The girls both gasped, hardly able to contain themselves.

“You both met him?!”

“You’ve met him more than once?! What’s he like?!”

“Is he really as cool in person?!”

Bokuto was clearly basking in the attention, and Kuroo wanted to throw him into traffic. Could he be any more conspicuous? 

“Kuro’s even cooler. Way cooler,” Bokuto said coolly as if he had authority over it.

“What did you think?” One of the girls turned to Kuroo, looking up at him with big, bright eyes.

Kuroo froze up, resembling a deer in headlights, as he tried to come up with an answer. He rubbed the back of his head uncomfortably, all of his media training going right out the window as he eventually choked out, “H-he’s, he’s really cool, yeah.”

The girls looked at him, slightly confused, but Bokuto didn’t miss a beat. “This is my friend,” he explained casually. “He’s not much of a talker, but trust me, he’s a die-hard Kuro fan too.”

“Oh, nice! That’s awesome,” one of the girls said, smiling kindly at Kuroo. “We all support Kuro in our own ways.”

“Yeah!” Bokuto chimed in, slapping Kuroo on the back. “This guy’s been a fan since day one!”

Kuroo’s life flashed before his eyes as he nodded stiffly. “Right.”

Thankfully, the line started moving, and Kuroo could finally breathe again. As they shuffled forward, Bokuto looked over at him with a smug grin. “See? That wasn’t so bad.”

Kuroo shot him a glare, his heart still threatening to beat out of his chest. “I am literally dying inside,” he hissed.

Bokuto laughed, unfazed. “You’re doing great! Besides, I told you—it’s fun, right?”

Kuroo groaned. “If by fun you mean anxiety-inducing, then sure.”

They eventually made it inside the store, the limited edition merch set up near the entrance, and Bokuto’s face lit up.  “There it is!” he gasped, pointing at the Kuro photocard with the reverence of someone witnessing a miracle.

Kuroo, on the other hand, just sighed. “I can’t believe you’re actually doing this.”

Bokuto pulled him along to join the crowd, trying to grab merch, eyes sparkling. “Hey, this is a big deal! Do you know how hard these things are to get?”

Kuroo just shrugged, trying to act nonchalant even as hordes of girls squealed around them, everyone trying to grab items. “I don’t know,” he said, leaning into Bokuto so only he could hear him. “I figured you’d just ask me for one.”

Bokuto gasped dramatically, clutching his chest and looking at Kuroo like he was wounded. “But that wouldn’t be the same! It’s about the experience! You have to earn it!”

Kuroo stared at him for a long moment, then, finally, a smile tugged at his lips. “You’re ridiculous.”

Bokuto grinned back, completely unbothered. “And you love it.”

Kuroo didn’t argue with that.

When they finally left the store, Kuroo was surprised he survived the ordeal. As they walked, Bokuto excitedly held up his new photocard like it was the Holy Grail. “Look at this! It’s perfect!”

Kuroo glanced at the photocard, which featured a picture of him in one of his recent idol shoots, all charm and tremendous confidence. He shook his head, chuckling. “You’re really something, you know that?”

Bokuto turned to him, beaming. “Yeah, but I’m your something.”

As Bokuto bumped their shoulders together, Kuroo couldn’t help but smile and link their arms together. Maybe he could do without the drama, but he could bear it if it meant Bokuto smiled at him like that.

***

The soft hum of the car engine filled the air as Kuroo leaned back into the plush leather seat, trying to relax. He glanced at Bokuto, who sat beside him, his usual beaming smile lighting up his face. There was something unnervingly natural about how comfortable Bokuto looked, dressed casually yet confidently, exuding an effortless charm. Kuroo, on the other hand, felt a knot of anxiety slowly tightening in his chest. Meeting a partner’s family was one thing, but meeting Bokuto’s family? His yakuza family? That was an entirely different level of stress that Kuroo wasn’t sure he was prepared for.

Bokuto had picked him up in a sleek, black car with a driver, which wasn’t entirely unusual in Kuroo’s world—celebrities and industry figures often had drivers, especially for significant events. Kuroo was used to being chauffeured around and having doors opened for him, so he didn’t think much of it. But something about this particular situation was unsettling him, and he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

As they rode through dark streets, Bokuto hummed to himself, completely at ease where he watched out the car window. Kuroo, however, fidgeted uncomfortably, looking at his phone, to Bokuto, out the window and back again. He wanted Bokuto to speak, to ease the tension Kuroo was feeling—but he didn’t. And Kuroo’s mind darted ahead. How was he supposed to act? How would his family react? What were they expecting from him? What did Bokuto tell them?

He finally worked up the nerve to speak, turning to Bokuto, “So, um. What’s your family like?”

Bokuto immediately turned to Kuroo and grinned, his golden eyes gleaming. “Oh, they’re great! You’ll love them. They’re really nice.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Right. Nice. Of course.”

Bokuto’s smile turned to an exaggerated pout. “Why do you say it like that?”

“Your yakuza family is nice?” Kuroo hissed the word like someone might overhear.

“Ohhh,” Bokuto said, only to let out a loud laugh, and Kuroo was then the one pouting. “Don’t worry about that. They’re harmless.”

Kuroo’s jaw dropped, and he almost smacked Bokuto. “Harmless?!” He exclaimed. “You’re such a liar!”

“Hey!” Bokuto gasped, though his tone was more playful than anything. “No one will like you with that attitude.”

Kuroo huffed, covering his face with a hand. “Don’t say that. I’m freaked out enough.”

“Come on,” Bokuto said with a laugh, sliding over to wrap an arm around Kuroo. “You’ll be fine. They’ll love you.”

Before Kuroo could worry aloud, the car slowed down, pulling into the long driveway of what could only be described as a traditional Japanese mansion. The house loomed large in front of them, its structure both grand and intimidating, with wooden beams, intricate carvings, and a meticulously maintained garden. It looked like something out of a period drama—elegant, sprawling, and utterly imposing.

The car came to a smooth stop, and Kuroo was about to reach for the door handle when the driver spoke. “We’re home, boss.”

Kuroo froze, his hand hovering above the door handle as the words registered in his brain.

Boss?

He turned slowly, eyes wide. “…Boss?” he echoed, looking at Bokuto incredulously.

Bokuto blinked at him, expression innocent and slightly confused. “What? Did I not tell you?”

Kuroo’s mouth opened and closed as he tried to process what he was being told, and he eventually said,. “No, Bokuto, you did not tell me.”

Bokuto tilted his head, completely unbothered as he shrugged. “Oops,” he said with a smile. “I’m kind of the head of the family.”

Before Kuroo could respond, the car door swung open, and a man greeted them with a bow. “Welcome home, boss.”

Kuroo sat there, frozen, his mind reeling. The head of the family? Bokuto? He was still grappling with the revelation as Bokuto effortlessly climbed out of the car, nodding in acknowledgment to the man.

“Well, come on!” Bokuto called back cheerfully, waving for Kuroo to join him. Like this was all normal.

Suddenly, the door on Kuroo’s side was opened for him. One of Bokuto’s men stood there, waiting with practiced courtesy. “Welcome, sir,” he said, bowing slightly.

Kuroo’s feet hit the ground, and he stood up, still reeling from the revelation. As they exited the car, he tried to get Bokuto’s attention again, lowering his voice so as not to draw attention. “What the hell, Bokuto?” Kuroo hissed under his breath, barely able to contain the wave of panic that surged through him. “Are you seriously in charge? You’re the boss?” His voice trembled as the words left his mouth, and the weight of what this meant hit him like a tidal wave. This wasn’t just dinner with someone’s family; this was walking into a world he didn’t understand—a world that terrified him. His mind raced, trying to reconcile the carefree, puppy-like Bokuto with the cold reality of the yakuza world. How could the two coexist? And more importantly, how was Kuroo supposed to navigate it without losing himself in the process?

Bokuto blinked at him, clearly confused by Kuroo’s concern. “Yeah, I’m the boss. Didn’t I mention that?” His voice was light as if he were talking about something as ordinary as the weather. But Kuroo couldn’t shake the sudden heaviness in his chest.

This was a new side of Bokuto—a side Kuroo hadn’t fully grasped. And as they stepped closer to the intimidating mansion, Kuroo felt the anxiety twist tighter in his gut.

Kuroo gaped at him, exasperated. Before he could think of a suitable response to the idiocy coming from Bokuto, one of the men walked up to them, clearly familiar with Bokuto. He looked between the two of them and let out a sigh. “He didn’t tell you anything, did he?” the man asked with an air of exasperation that rivaled Kuroo’s, directing the question more toward him.

Kuroo ran a hand through his hair, suddenly feeling overwhelmed. “No, he didn’t,” he muttered, glancing at Bokuto with disbelief.

Bokuto laughed, clapping Kuroo on the back. “Come on, it’s not that big of a deal. Kanae-nee-san is the one really in charge anyway.”

Kanae was the one really in charge? What did that even mean?

As Kuroo followed Bokuto into the mansion, his mind buzzed with anxiety and curiosity. The household staff bowed respectfully as they passed, their eyes lingering on Kuroo with polite interest. The grandeur of the mansion, its traditional architecture, and the subtle but constant reminders of Bokuto’s yakuza ties weighed heavily on his mind. He could feel his heart racing as they approached the main dining room.

When they entered, Kuroo’s breath hitched. The room was already occupied by Bokuto’s family, and each member exuded a presence that was both warm and intimidating. He could tell immediately that this would not be an ordinary dinner with the in-laws.

“Kuroo,” Bokuto chirped, placing a hand on Kuroo’s back and guiding him toward the group. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.”

Kuroo swallowed nervously, trying to hide the tension in his posture. His eyes flitted over the room, noting the curious but welcoming gazes from everyone—and the lack of one person. Bokuto, however, seemed completely at ease.

First, Bokuto gestured to the youngest of the three sisters, who had already risen from her seat with a wide grin. “This is Airi, my youngest sister,” Bokuto said proudly.

Airi practically beamed at Kuroo. “Kou-chan talks about you all the time. It’s so nice to meet you, Kuroo-kun!”

Kuroo bowed politely. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Airi-san.”

Airi blinked, then giggled, waving her hand. “Airi-san? No need to be so formal! You can just call me nee-chan like Kou-chan does.”

Kuroo’s smile was polite but firm. “Thank you, Airi-san.”

Airi gave him a playful pout but didn’t push the matter further. Next, Bokuto turned to the woman sitting beside Airi. “And this is Mizuki, my middle sister.”

Mizuki stood and gave Kuroo a sly, almost teasing smile. “So, this is the famous Kuroo-kun,” she said, her eyes gleaming with amusement. “I was expecting someone a bit taller.”

Kuroo chuckled nervously. “It’s nice to meet you, Mizuki-san.”

Mizuki raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed with the formalities. “Mizuki-san? No, no, Kuroo-kun. Airi just told you, nee-chan! We’re family now, aren’t we?”

Kuroo felt his ears burning. He could sense Bokuto watching him expectantly, but he maintained his stance. “Thank you, Mizuki-san,” he repeated softly.

Mizuki sighed dramatically, shaking her head in mock disappointment, making the other women laugh. Kuroo could feel Bokuto nudging him gently, as if urging him to drop the formality, but Kuroo wasn’t quite ready to relax into that level of familiarity.

“And, of course,” Bokuto continued, his tone softening, “this is my mom, Emiko.”

Emiko stood gracefully, her aura commanding yet warm, and Kuroo bowed deeply in respect. “Emiko-san, thank you for welcoming me into your home.”

“Emiko-san?” she echoed with a slight tilt of her head, smiling. “Such formalities, Kuroo-kun.”

Kuroo straightened up slowly, offering a small, polite smile. “Of course, Emiko-san.”

Bokuto shot him a look of affection and exasperation, but Kuroo held his ground. He wasn’t going to presume that level of familiarity just yet.

Finally, Bokuto gestured toward a woman with an amused smile, her eyes twinkling as she watched the exchange. “And this is my mom’s partner.”

The last woman stepped forward, offering Kuroo a warm handshake. “I’m Yukiko,” she said, her tone playful and teasing, “but you can call me Mama, Kuroo-kun.”

Kuroo hesitated for a moment, then shook her hand, smiling softly. “Thank you, Yukiko-san.”

Yukiko raised an eyebrow, exchanging a glance with Mizuki and Airi, who were both grinning mischievously. “Well, he’s polite, I’ll give him that,” she said, chuckling.

As Kuroo took his seat beside Bokuto, he couldn’t shake the feeling of their eyes on him. He was sure they were used to people being formal, but even if they insisted on being casual, he didn’t want to assume too much too soon. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a bit of pressure from Bokuto’s quiet insistence.

“You really don’t have to be so formal, you know,” Bokuto whispered, his tone light but affectionate. “They’re your family now, too.”

Kuroo chuckled nervously, feeling Bokuto’s hand brush against his under the table. “I’ll stick with the formalities for now, thanks,” he murmured.

Bokuto huffed playfully, but before he could say anything more, Airi leaned over and whispered quietly into Kuroo’s ear. “When you meet Kanae-nee-san later, it’s probably best to stick with Kanae-san.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow, looking at Airi with mild surprise, but she just winked and sat back, leaving him to ponder what exactly that meant.

Then it was Bokuto’s turn to lean in, actually giving Kuroo information for once. “Kanae-nee’s the real one running things around here,” he whispered with a sheepish grin. ‘I may have the title of boss, but let’s be honest, she’s the one everyone listens to. I just try to stay out of her way,” he said with a laugh, as if the power imbalance didn’t bother him.

The revelation only made Kuroo’s chest get tighter. How was he supposed to fit in if the family’s real leader didn’t trust him—or worse, saw him as a liability?

Before long, a man poked his head into the room, addressing Emiko. “Okami, dinner is ready.”

And with that, they moved to the dining room.

Dinner began, and as the meal progressed, Kuroo relaxed—if only slightly. The food was delicious, traditional dishes prepared with care and precision. The family’s conversation flowed easily, full of light-hearted teasing and shared memories. Kuroo found himself smiling more as Bokuto’s sisters took turns embarrassing their brother with childhood stories.

At one point, Yukiko laughed loudly at something Mizuki said, taking a hearty sip from her drink before turning to Kuroo. “You know, Kuroo-kun, you’re always welcome here. It’s not every day we get to meet someone who makes Kou-chan so happy.”

Kuroo smiled gratefully. “Thank you, Yukiko-san.”

Mizuki chimed in, her tone teasing. “We’ll wear you down eventually. You’ll be calling us nee-chan and mama in no time.”

Kuroo laughed softly but remained steadfast, voice ever-so-slightly teasing.  “We’ll see about that.”

Suddenly, the door to the dining room slid open, and the quiet but unmistakable presence of authority filled the air. The room shifted almost imperceptibly as Kanae walked into the room, her expression composed, but the weight of her authority was impossible to ignore. Kuroo’s attention snapped to her immediately.

“We’ll handle the rest, ane-san.” The man accompanying her bowed and then left the room.

Kuroo took mental note. Ane-san , huh?

“Kanae-nee-san,” Bokuto greeted her with a smile, though his tone was more reserved. “We were just finishing up dinner.”

Kanae’s sharp eyes swept over the room before landing on Kuroo. She studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. It was evident now that Bokuto might have the boss title, but she was the one everyone answered to. “I see. So, this is the idol.”

Kuroo stiffened slightly, rising from his seat to bow. “It’s nice to meet you, Kanae-san.”

Kanae nodded slightly, her gaze lingering on him for a moment longer before she sat down at the head of the table. The conversation around the table resumed, though there was an undeniable shift in the air. Kanae’s presence was like a quiet storm; her calm demeanor somehow made Kuroo more nervous than anyone else in the room.

Throughout the rest of the meal, Kanae barely spoke. Her eyes occasionally flickered toward Kuroo, but she remained distant, choosing to observe more than participate. Kuroo did his best to engage with the rest of the family, but he could feel her gaze on him, making it difficult to fully relax.

At one point, Airi leaned over again, offering a small, reassuring smile. “Don’t worry,” she whispered softly. “Kanae-nee-san’s just protective. She’ll warm up eventually.”

Kuroo nodded, though he wasn’t so sure.

As dinner ended, the family moved to a more relaxed sitting area. Mizuki and Yukiko poured drinks for themselves, quickly falling into a lively conversation, while Emiko and Airi shared more childhood stories about Bokuto. The atmosphere felt lighter again, though Kuroo couldn’t quite shake the tension that had settled in his chest.

Bokuto, distracted by a conversation with his mother, didn’t notice when Kanae approached Kuroo, her presence looming behind him like a shadow.

“Kuroo-san,” she said quietly, her voice sending chills down his spine. “A word?”

Kuroo’s heart skipped a beat. He glanced toward Bokuto, but his boyfriend was distracted by Mizuki—who’d grown increasingly drunk throughout the evening. Taking a deep breath, Kuroo nodded and followed Kanae into a separate room down the hall. The moment the door slid shut behind him, the tension in the air became palpable.

Kanae turned to face him, her sharp gaze cutting through the dim lighting. “Kuroo Tetsurou,” she began, her voice calm but commanding. “Son of Kuroo Tetsunosuke. You went to Nekoma High, didn’t you? Played volleyball there. Friends with the popular streamer Kodzuken. And now an idol, nearing twelve years in the industry.”

Kuroo’s stomach twisted into knots as she rattled off facts about his life with unsettling precision. He hadn’t expected this level of scrutiny, and how she delivered each piece of information felt like a warning.

“You’ve made quite the name for yourself,” Kanae continued, stepping closer. “But you’re still just a boy playing in a very dangerous world.”

Kuroo swallowed hard, the weight of her words pressing down on him. “I…I know it’s dangerous, but I’m serious about Bokuto. I care about him.”

Kanae raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Do you? Do you really understand what you’re getting into? Kou-chan may act like a child, but he has responsibilities—heavy ones. This isn’t some fantasy world where you can play at being an idol while dating the head of a yakuza family.”

Kuroo clenched his fists at his sides, trying to keep his voice steady. “I’m not playing. I know it’s serious, and I’m ready for that.”

A small, humorless smile tugged at Kanae’s lips. “No, you’re not. You’re not cut out for this life, Kuroo. You’ll only get hurt, and worse, you’ll hurt Kou-chan.”

Her voice was calm, but every word felt like a warning—a quiet promise that any misstep would have consequences. The kind that would leave him far more broken than just hurt feelings. The words cut through him like a knife, but Kuroo refused to back down. “I won’t hurt him. I care about him more than anything.”

Kanae’s eyes narrowed, her expression hardening. “You may care about him, but that doesn’t mean you’re what’s best for him.” Her voice dropped, low and steady. “Kou-chan might be the boss by name, but you and I both know he’s not suited for this life. I keep things running, Kuroo, and I won’t let you interfere with that. If you can’t handle this, you’ll hurt him—and I can’t allow that.”

The implication was clear, and it sent a chill down Kuroo’s spine. Kanae wasn’t telling him to break up with Bokuto, but the message was loud and clear—he wasn’t welcome here, not by her. Kuroo could feel the weight of her judgment hanging in the air. This wasn’t a casual warning. It was a test—one he wasn’t sure he could pass.

Without another word, Kanae walked right past him and left the room, leaving Kuroo standing there, shaken and uncertain.

When he returned to the rest of the family, Kuroo put on a smile, pretending everything was fine just like he always did, but the weight of Kanae’s words pressed heavily on his shoulders. Bokuto, who had been chatting with Airi, immediately noticed the change in Kuroo’s demeanor.

As the night began to wind down, Bokuto turned to Kuroo with a warm smile, his usual carefree demeanor in full force. “Why don’t you stay the night? We’ve got plenty of rooms, and it’s a long drive back.”

Kuroo hesitated, his mind still reeling from the conversation with Kanae. The offer was tempting, especially with Bokuto looking at him with those hopeful, puppy-dog eyes. But there was no way he could stay after what had just happened.

“Thanks, but I’ve got work in the morning,” Kuroo said, forcing a smile. “I should probably head back.”

Bokuto’s face fell just a little, but he quickly recovered with a nod. “Alright, if you’re sure. I can have someone drive you back.”

“Yeah, that would be great.”

Following a dramatic farewell from the family—Kanae, now missing from the group—they made their way toward the front door. Bokuto wrapped an arm around Kuroo’s shoulders, his usual energy seeping back into his voice. “I’m really happy you came. Everyone seems to really like you.”

Despite Kuroo’s genuine happiness at the sentiment, his smile didn’t reach his eyes. “You think? They’re great, Bokuto.”

Bokuto opened the door, and the cool night air rushed in. He paused just before they stepped outside, turning to Kuroo with a thoughtful expression. “What did Kanae say to you?”

Kuroo’s heart skipped a beat. He should have known Bokuto would catch on, but the question still caught him off guard. He plastered on his best nonchalant expression. “Oh, nothing really. She just wanted to talk.”

“Kuroo,” Bokuto’s voice softened, and his hand slipped from Kuroo’s shoulder down to hold his waist. “I know my sister. What did she say?”

Kuroo sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “She just asked me if I knew what I was getting into. You know, the usual big sister stuff.”

Bokuto frowned, his golden eyes narrowing. “The usual big sister stuff? Did she say something to scare you?”

“It wasn’t that bad,” Kuroo said, his voice tight. “She just doesn’t think I’m…cut out for all this. But it’s fine.”

Bokuto’s face fell, genuine concern replacing his usual grin. “She said that?” His voice was quieter now, tinged with frustration. “I’ll talk to her.”

“No, don’t,” Kuroo quickly interjected, grabbing Bokuto’s arm. “It’s fine, really. I get it. She’s just being protective.”

Bokuto sighed, rubbing the back of his head, clearly upset. “She doesn’t have the right to say that to you. I’ll make sure she—”

“Bo,” Kuroo interrupted, his voice gentle. He took a step closer, meeting Bokuto’s gaze. “It’s okay. I promise.”

Bokuto searched his face for a moment as if trying to find any cracks in Kuroo’s calm demeanor. “Are you sure?”

Kuroo nodded, managing a small smile. “Yeah. You know I can handle myself. Besides, it’s not like she’s exactly wrong.”

Bokuto’s expression softened. “I don’t want it to be hard for you.”

Kuroo chuckled softly, his smile becoming more genuine. “You’re worth it.”

Bokuto blinked, his eyes widening for a moment before a slow, almost bashful grin spread across his face. “I’m glad you think so.”

They finally headed to the waiting car, and Kuroo sighed, his earlier nerves settling as Bokuto’s warmth washed over him. Even with everything Kanae had said, standing here with Bokuto made him confident in his decision. He still had a lot to think about, but one thing was clear—he wasn’t walking away from this.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” Kuroo asked, raising an eyebrow.

Bokuto nodded enthusiastically. “Of course! After you’re done with work, we’ll hang out. Just text me when you’re done.”

Kuroo smiled again, this time more easily, before leaning in and pressing a quick, soft kiss to Bokuto’s lips. It was brief but full of warmth, and when they pulled back, Bokuto was beaming.

“Get some rest,” Kuroo murmured. “You’ve got to look after your boss image, right?”

Bokuto laughed, his eyes crinkling at the corners. “Yeah, yeah. Safe drive back, Kuroo.”

With one last smile, Kuroo entered the car, the door closing behind him. As the car pulled away from the mansion, Kuroo let out a long breath, leaning back into the seat. His mind was still racing with everything Kanae had said, but Bokuto’s reassurances had soothed some of the anxiety gnawing at him.

He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Bokuto:

Thanks for dinner, your family is great. See you tomorrow

A few moments later, his phone buzzed with Bokuto’s reply:

Can’t wait!

Kuroo smiled at the message, a sense of calm finally settling over him. Kanae’s words still echoed in his mind, and he knew he had much to think about. But as long as Bokuto was by his side, Kuroo felt more confident than ever about what he wanted.

No matter what Kanae thought, he wasn’t going anywhere.

***

The charity event was in full swing by the time Kuroo arrived. The venue was grand, a ballroom adorned with chandeliers that sparkled in the low light, tables dressed in pristine white linen, and guests that glittered just as much as the décor. The hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and the occasional laughter filled the air. It was undoubtedly the atmosphere of elegance. And there was Kuroo, ever the professional, gliding through the crowd with practiced ease, greeting guests, exchanging pleasantries with sponsors, and agreeing to photo ops with a practiced smile.

Bokuto was also in attendance, though keeping his distance, allowing Kuroo to navigate the event in his idol persona. Even in the crowd of flashy suits and gowns, Bokuto’s presence was hard to miss. His eyes scanned the room every now and then, ensuring that nothing went wrong. He looked calm, relaxed even, but Kuroo knew better. Beneath the polished exterior, Bokuto was on high alert. He had to be. The world they were a part of demanded it.

After far too long of socializing, Kuroo found himself moving toward the quieter part of the venue, taking a moment to catch his breath. The balcony was a perfect escape, offering a sweeping view of the city skyline. He exhaled, the tension in his shoulders relaxing slightly. He might’ve enjoyed the glitz and glamor of it many years ago, but now, it was only exhausting.

Suddenly, Kuroo sensed someone approaching and, fully assuming it was Bokuto, turned, only to be faced with a stranger. It was a man, tall and broad, his face etched with something Kuroo couldn’t immediately place. It wasn’t curiosity or admiration or even resignation at having to attend such an event. There was something darker beneath the surface. The man stepped closer, too close for comfort, but Kuroo had nowhere to go. He kept his face neutral, instinctively slipping into his public persona.

“Big night, huh?” the man said, his voice casual but laced with something that sent a shiver down Kuroo’s spine.

“Yeah,” Kuroo replied smoothly, subtly glancing behind the man, hoping to see someone else, “It’s great to see so many people supporting such an important cause.”

The man smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Funny, isn’t it? How easily some are drawn to all of this finery.” His words were laced with disdain, and Kuroo swallowed hard.

What was up with this guy? Was he even supposed to be here? Kuroo tried to keep things light. “I’m not sure I know what you mean, but it is quite the party, isn’t it? I’m glad so much money could be raised.”

“Yes, yes,” The man stepped closer, his voice lowering, eyes glinting. “But I do wonder if everyone knows it’s all a lie.”

Kuroo’s heart began racing, but his expression didn’t falter. This wasn’t a fan or celebrity. There was something more going on here. He tried subtly looking behind him again, hoping Bokuto had noticed something was off, but didn’t want to draw too much attention to himself.

“I wouldn’t say that, I’ve personally vetted the organization,” Kuroo said, trying to seem like he didn’t know what this was about. Like he thought it was about the event and not himself.

“Don’t play dumb,” the man replied, smile turning to a sneer. “Bokuto Koutarou, right? The man you came with? Funny how someone like you could get so cozy with a guy like him.”

Kuroo’s breathing quickened now. The man wasn’t being subtle anymore. His words were laced with an unmistakable threat. But Kuroo had been in the public eye long enough to know how to handle difficult encounters. He just needed to stay calm and not let this escalate.

“Listen, I’m just here for the charity,” Kuroo said, his voice steady. “I don’t know what you think you know, but this is hardly the time or place to discuss it.”

The man’s expression darkened. “And I’m not talking about charity. I’m talking about how someone like you gets by, playing the nice guy, pretending you don’t know the kind of filth you’re involved with.”

Kuroo’s chest tightened. The man’s words were sharper now, dripping with malice. Before Kuroo could respond, he saw the glint of metal out of the corner of his eye and broke into a cold sweat. The man had produced a knife, and with his back against the balcony, Kuroo had nowhere to go.

The world around him seemed to slow, and for a moment, all the charm, the practiced smiles, and poise vanished. He froze, his heart hammering in his chest as panic took hold. This wasn’t just a confrontation anymore.

“I know exactly what you’re mixed up in,” the man hissed, now holding the knife out towards Kuroo. “And I’m not going to let you keep pretending.”

Before Kuroo could even think of what to do, there was a blur of movement. In an instant, Bokuto was there.

Kuroo barely registered what happened as Bokuto disarmed the man with a swift, effortless motion, twisting the knife out of his hand and pressing it against the man’s throat. At the same time, Kuroo heard the unmistakable click of a gun, and he could only assume from the way the man froze that it was pressed against his back. The tension in the air was palpable, and Kuroo and the stranger were both wide-eyed and still.

Bokuto’s voice, low and dangerously calm, cut through the silence. “You’re lucky I don’t paint the ground with your blood,” He was speaking directly into the man’s ear. “The only reason you’re still breathing is because he’s here, but that can change.”

The man’s bravado crumbled in the face of Bokuto’s threat. He looked like he might throw up, visibly trembling. The difference between his usual calm, carefree Bokuto and this lethal, commanding figure left Kuroo shaken. Bokuto had always been a protector, but this side of him—ruthless, deadly —was a stark reminder of who he really was. 

Things blurred together as the man was dragged away by a couple of guards who may or may not have been Bokuto’s men. Bokuto turned his attention to Kuroo, expression softening instantly. The knife was gone, the gun disappeared into the folds of his jacket, and suddenly, Bokuto was just Bokuto again.

“Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. “You okay?”

Kuroo nodded, but his body was trembling, mind still reeling from what happened. He was grateful; of course, he was grateful. Bokuto had protected him, saved him yet again. But seeing him in that moment, in full yakuza mode, had shaken Kuroo to his core.

“I’m fine,” Kuroo managed to say, though his voice was strained.

Bokuto reached out, placing a gentle hand on Kuroo’s arm, trying to reassure him. “I’ve got you. No one’s gonna hurt you when I’m around.”

Kuroo nodded slowly, but his heart was still racing. He wanted to believe Bokuto. He really did. But the image of his boyfriend with a knife at someone’s throat, the way he had so easily slipped into the role of a yakuza —it left Kuroo more unsettled than ever.

As much as Kuroo loved Bokuto, moments like these, as few and far between as they were, reminded him that Bokuto wasn’t just his loving, goofy boyfriend. He was at the head of a dangerous world that Kuroo wasn’t sure he could ever fully understand or be a part of.

“Come on, let’s get out of here,” Bokuto said, wrapping an arm around Kuroo to guide him away from the balcony.

Kuroo should’ve protested. Should’ve said what if someone sees them pressed together like this. That he hadn’t stayed at the event long enough to leave. And yet he still allowed Bokuto to lead him around groups of people and right out the door.

They didn’t say anything as they got into the car, and Kuroo’s mind was strangely blank. They got into an awaiting vehicle, and Kuroo didn’t register Bokuto’s words to the driver. He instead sunk into his seat, leaning heavily against Bokuto. His head dropped to Bokuto’s shoulder, and Bokuto naturally wrapped his arm around him, squeezing him gently.

“Kuroo.”

Bokuto’s voice broke through the fog in Kuroo’s mind, and he tilted his head to look up at him.

“I’m sorry if I scared you.” His expression and voice showed such sincerity that Kuroo almost wanted to comfort him. But he knew Bokuto had good reason to apologize. If anything, Kuroo could have blamed the attempted attack on Bokuto. Not that he would.

Kuroo could almost hear Kanae’s voice, reminding him that he wasn’t meant to be a part of all of this. But still, Kuroo raised a hand to lace his fingers with Bokuto’s.

Staring at their intertwined fingers, Bokuto’s warmth grounded Kuroo, even as uncertainty lingered in his mind. The image of Bokuto’s dangerous side was such a stark contrast to Bokuto’s gentleness now. He’d simply been reminded of the world that Bokuto lived in, that Kuroo had only gotten glimpses of. A world Kuroo wasn’t sure he could ever truly understand much less belong to.

But Bokuto squeezed his hand, thumb brushing over his knuckles, and Kuroo sighed softly. Despite everything, there was something Kuroo was certain of. He loved Bokuto. He loved the man who loved him back, who made him laugh, who never hesitated to show his affection. He loved the man who, above all else, protected him. He wasn’t a yakuza. To Kuroo, he was his friend and partner.

“I’m not scared of you,” Kuroo finally spoke, voice barely above a whisper as he admitted, “I just don’t know if I’m cut out for your world, Bo.”

Kuroo felt Bokuto tense slightly, but after a long moment, Bokuto murmured, “You don’t have to be. All I need is for you to be with me.”

Closing his eyes, Kuroo let the words settle over him. It wasn’t a solution. It didn’t solve anything, it didn’t make up for the things that kept happening. But for now, for the two of them, it was enough. Kuroo didn’t have the answers, didn’t know what the future would look like, if they could ever truly fit into each other’s lives. But at that moment, pressed close to his boyfriend, Kuroo knew he wasn’t ready to walk away.

“I’m with you,” Kuroo whispered. “For as long as I can be.”

***

It all started with a single photo.

It was nothing special. It wasn’t even a good quality photo. Nonetheless, the leaked picture showed Kuroo pressed into Bokuto’s side, Bokuto’s arm around his shoulders as they left the charity event in a hurry.

Of course someone had leaked the photo. And along with it, a story about Kuroo mysteriously disappearing, only to resurface with Bokuto and leave quickly afterwards. Who had been paying that much attention to him, Kuroo didn’t know, but the information ignited a media frenzy that Kuroo had no way of controlling. No amount of damage control would work for the theories being thrown around. What made things worse, though, was they weren’t exactly wrong.

Idol Kuro: Secret Yakuza Connections?

Secret Romance Exposed? Idol Kuro Linked to Yakuza in Gay Relationship!

Kuro’s Secret: Idol Linked to Yakuza in Shocking Photo Leak

Idol Kuro’s Gay Love Affair with Yakuza

For the first few days, Kuroo had tried to brush it off. He’d dealt with invasive rumors before—dating scandals, career criticisms, and even the occasional ridiculous claim about his personal life. This wasn’t his first time facing media scrutiny. But these accusations were different. Possibly even career-ending.

His management team was on high alert, releasing vague, diplomatic statements that neither confirmed nor denied anything, just fueling the media frenzy. It was exhausting. He had always prided himself on staying composed under pressure, but lately, it was getting harder to maintain that facade.

His schedule was packed as usual—photoshoots, interviews, meetings with sponsors, all while trying to pretend his personal life wasn’t a ticking time bomb. Kuroo put on his perfectly crafted idol persona each day: charming, confident, collected. But under that polished surface, anxiety trying to claw its way out. It gnawed at him constantly, making his chest tight and his thoughts race at night when he wasn’t constantly distracted.

And the fans? Some fiercely defended him, starting hashtags and campaigns to clear his name. Others were less kind. The darker corners of social media were full of accusations, conspiracy theories, and even a few threats. People talking about how, if he had yakuza ties, he should be banned from the industry. People wondered if he was somehow using his idol career as a front for criminal activity. Paranoia was starting to seep in, and no matter how much Kuroo told himself to ignore it, the weight of the scrutiny was becoming unbearable.

The worst part was the toll it was taking on his career. Endorsements were being put on hold, contracts were under reconsideration, and some industry insiders were whispering about whether or not Kuroo’s brand was still “marketable.” For the first time in years, Kuroo wasn’t sure where his career’s future stood. And though he had always been level-headed about it, thinking about retirement as a distant option for later, the idea had been creeping into his mind more and more lately.

Retirement. He had thought about it before, sometimes fleetingly, other times seriously. The constant grind of the idol world was unforgiving, and there were days when he wondered what it would be like to just stop. No more cameras in his face, no more pretending to be perfect. But now, with the rumors swirling and his life spiraling out of control, the thought felt less like a choice and more like an inevitability. What if this scandal didn’t blow over? What if his entire career, everything he had worked for, was about to crash and burn? What would he do then? Was walking away even an option anymore?

As he sat in his apartment, in his own home for the first time in weeks, Kuroo let out a long, shaky breath. The apartment, usually a comforting space, felt too big, too quiet. His mind was racing, bouncing between his future, Bokuto, the yakuza, and everything in between. He didn’t know how things had gotten so complicated so fast. Though maybe he should have expected it from the start. Maybe he should have known his involvement with Bokuto would only cause trouble.

He had been lying low for the past few days, trying to avoid the paparazzi and media frenzy. His managers were trying to control the damage, but Kuroo knew that the longer the rumors went on, the worse they would get. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep pretending everything was fine.

Then the doorbell rang.

At first, Kuroo sat frozen. Bokuto was unable to come over today, and he wasn’t expecting anyone else. But when it rang again, he got up and went to the door, cautiously peeking through the peephole. The sight on the other side made him pause.

Kenma.

Kuroo hadn’t seen him in person in months, their schedules never quite lining up, but the sight of his best friend standing in his doorway, wearing his usual hoodie and blank expression, sent a wave of relief through him. He opened the door without further hesitation.

“Kenma,” Kuroo greeted, his voice a little hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

Kenma shrugged, stepping inside without waiting for an invitation. “I was in the area.”

Kuroo snorted, closing the door behind him. “Right. In the area. You don’t leave your apartment unless it’s for something important.”

Kenma ignored the comment, dropping onto Kuroo’s couch with a casualness that spoke of their long friendship. “You look like crap,” he said bluntly.

Kuroo laughed, but it lacked humor. “Yeah, well. It’s been a week.”

Kenma raised an eyebrow, giving Kuroo a once-over. “You’ve been keeping up with the rumors?”

“Hard not to.” Kuroo slumped onto the couch across from Kenma, running a hand through his hair. “I try to ignore it, but it’s everywhere. And it’s not just me they’re talking about—Bokuto’s in the middle of it, too.”

Kenma didn’t say anything at first, just nodded as if he was processing everything. Then, without looking up, he added, “Your dad’s been texting me.”

Kuroo let out a groan, leaning back in his seat. “I already told him I’m fine. I talked to him a few days ago. What, he doesn’t believe me?”

Kenma shrugged again, though had looked up at Kuroo, eyeing him. “He’s worried. Said he hasn’t heard from you much. So…he asked me to check in.”

Kuroo sighed, exasperation rising up. “Great. So now I have my dad asking you to babysit?”

Kenma’s face didn’t change, but there was something in his eyes—something more severe than usual. “He’s not the only one worried, Kuro.”

The use of the name hit Kuroo like a ton of bricks. It was always different coming from Kenma. He sighed and leaned towards Kenma, meeting his gaze.

“Who else?”

Kenma looked away for a moment, as if deciding whether to say it or not. “Yaku called. Asked if I’d heard from you. Shouyou texted me too, wondering how you were doing. People are noticing you’ve been off.”

Kuroo’s stomach twisted. “I’m fine,” he muttered. “Just handling it. The media will move on eventually.”

It didn’t sound like he believed it even as he said it.

Kenma tilted his head slightly, his sharp eyes scanning Kuroo’s face. “You really think that’s true?”

Kuroo didn’t answer right away. He knew what he was supposed to say, what he was supposed to believe. But this felt different—more permanent. The rumors weren’t just gossip about a fleeting relationship or some embarrassing moment; they involved not just his relationship status but his sexuality and the yakuza of all things. People took that seriously. And the thing is, they were right, he was involved with yakuza by being involved with Bokuto.

“I don’t know,” Kuroo admitted, his voice quieter than before. 

Kenma didn’t sugarcoat it. “You know these things don’t just blow over. Especially not with Bokuto involved.”

There it was. The thing Kuroo had been avoiding saying out loud. It wasn’t just the media or the rumors. It was Bokuto. His relationship with Bokuto, the one thing that felt so good , now felt like a disaster that could destroy everything he had worked for. And the worst part? He wasn’t even sure he wanted to stop it from happening.

Kenma sat up a bit, crossing his arms as he watched Kuroo. “Have you talked to Bokuto about it?”

Kuroo scoffed. “What am I supposed to say? Hey, Bokuto, could you maybe stop being involved in the yakuza so my career doesn’t implode?”

Kenma’s expression didn’t change. “Maybe not that exactly, but you should probably talk to him about how this is affecting you.”

Kuroo ran a hand through his hair, feeling the weight of Kenma’s words settle in. He knew he needed to talk to Bokuto, needed to explain how terrified he was of everything falling apart, but every time he thought about it, something stopped him. Maybe it was fear of what Bokuto would say. Maybe it was fear of Kanae being right.

Kenma watched him carefully as though reading his thoughts. “You care about him. I get that. But you can’t ignore what’s happening to your career. You’ve worked too hard for it to get ruined by something like this.”

“I know,” Kuroo replied, feeling the familiar twist in his gut. 

Kenma shifted, looking up at the ceiling. “Look, I’m not saying you have to choose between him and your career. But you can’t just sit here pretending this will go away on its own.”

Kuroo knew Kenma was right. But knowing it didn’t make it easier.

The silence between them stretched for a moment before Kenma finally broke it. “So what’s your plan?”

Kuroo let out a long breath, staring at the floor. “I don’t even know. I’m just trying to get through each day right now.”

Kenma’s eyebrows lifted slightly, an almost imperceptible gesture of surprise. “That’s not like you.”

“Yeah, well, this isn’t like anything I’ve dealt with before.” Kuroo’s voice cracked along with his resolve, everything getting to be too much. He buried his face in his hands, voice coming out muffled this time. “The media, the rumors, Bokuto, it’s all too fucking much.”

Kenma said nothing for a while. If it were anyone else, one might think he was being insensitive, but it was Kenma. Kuroo knew that. And eventually, he said, “You can always take a break. From the industry. Step back until things die down.”

“I’ve thought about that,” Kuroo admitted, his voice quiet. “Stepping back for a bit.”

Or maybe retiring entirely, his mind helpfully supplied.

Kenma didn’t react with surprise, and Kuroo raised his head again. Kenma nodded slightly, well aware that Kuroo had been tossing the idea around. “It wouldn’t be the worst thing, you know. You’ve been running at full speed for years. No one would blame you for slowing down.”

Kuroo had been hearing that more and more lately—from his team, from fans, and now from Kenma. But walking away from everything felt like admitting defeat, like letting the rumors win. The thought of retiring wasn’t just about leaving behind the spotlight but about losing a part of himself.

“I don’t know if I’m ready for that,” Kuroo admitted. “I’ve spent so long building this career. What am I even supposed to do when it’s all gone?”

Kenma’s expression softened slightly, the hard lines of his usual disinterest easing into something more understanding. “You’re still Kuro, with or without the idol stuff.”

Kuroo felt a pang in his chest again—Kenma calling him “Kuro” like it was something more than just a name, like it meant something bigger than the persona he put on for the world. Kenma had always called him that, long before he’d even had other friends, much less a public career in the spotlight. Hearing it now, in the middle of all the chaos, reminded Kuroo of who he really was. Not just the idol. Not just the person the world saw.

Kenma’s voice was softer now, less matter-of-fact and more personal. “You’re still you. No matter what happens.”

Kuroo looked up at Kenma, meeting his gaze. The weight in his chest felt a little lighter, but the uncertainty still lingered. He knew what Kenma was saying was true, but that didn’t make the decisions ahead any easier.

“Thanks,” Kuroo said after a beat, his voice quiet but genuine.

Kenma just nodded, the familiar silence between them settling in again. But this time, it felt a little less heavy.

After a long while, Kuroo finally broke the silence. “You’re expecting me to cook for you, aren’t you?”

“Duh,” Kenma replied instantly, tapping away at his phone like they didn’t just have a heartfelt conversation. “When’s the last time you even cooked for yourself?”

“Shut up,” Kuroo was smiling now, and he stood up to head to the kitchen. “I can’t believe you were worried about me.”

“I was not.”

“Were too.”

“Was not.”

They quickly settled into their usual routine, and Kuroo felt lighter than he had in a long time. 

***

A few weeks later, Kuroo was in his apartment again, exhausted as ever. He sighed as he dragged a hand through his hair, staring at his reflection in the mirror. Things hadn’t magically gotten better just because he’d spent some time with his best friend. Between the media rumors and the constant speculation about his personal life, Kuroo just wanted one ordinary day.

“I need to get out,” Kuroo groaned, grabbing his jacket. After the shitshow that his life had become, he was desperate to be an average person for a little while. And what better way to do that than with a shopping trip.

However, things took a turn when he mentioned the idea to Bokuto.

“You really want to go out right now?” Bokuto asked, frowning at Kuroo. “What if someone sees us? The media’s still losing their minds over everything.”

Kuroo waved him off. “I’m an adult, Bokuto. I can do what I want in my free time. And besides, who cares? People are gonna talk either way.”

Bokuto still looked unconvinced, but Kuroo was already grabbing his wallet, determined to have a normal day. Bokuto was concerned, Kuroo wasn’t acting like himself, but there wasn’t much he could do as Kuroo headed for the door.

“You coming or not?” Kuroo said, raising an eyebrow.

He’d already decided today would be it—just a simple, mundane day at the mall. No fans, no media, no drama. Just shopping. He could do it. They could do it. There would be no issues.

Bokuto quickly joined him but was already holding his phone to his ear. “We can go, but I’m bringing security.”

“Security? For shopping?” Kuroo rolled his eyes, even if some part of him knew it was a good idea. A much better one than going on an impromptu shopping trip. “I just want some shirts, Bokuto, not an escort.”

But Bokuto wasn’t having it. “Better safe than sorry!”

The moment they walked through the mall entrance, Kuroo regretted every decision that had led him to this moment.

Bokuto had brought three hulking yakuza bodyguards—each one larger than the last. They moved in a tactical formation, eyes scanning every shopper like they were enemy combatants. To Kuroo, it looked like they were entering a high-security compound rather than a mall.

As they made their way to the first store, Bokuto’s men immediately set the tone. One of them, the largest of the trio, subtly cleared his throat in the most threatening way possible, causing a mother with her toddler to immediately step aside like they were in danger.

“Bokuto,” Kuroo whispered as they walked through the store entrance. “We’re just here to buy some clothes. Can you tell your guys to dial it down from a ten to maybe, I don’t know, a two?”

Bokuto, completely oblivious, flashed a grin, his previous unease lifting as he saw how effective his men were at keeping people away from Kuroo. “Don’t worry! They’re just making sure you’re safe.”

“From what? Discounts?” Kuroo hissed, but his protests got him nowhere.

It didn’t take long for the absurdity to escalate. Bokuto’s men began slowly circling the store like they were performing a military sweep. Shoppers, noticing the intimidating figures looming near them, quickly grabbed their things and hurried out, confused and fearful.

Kuroo watched in horror as an elderly lady admiring a pair of shoes suddenly stiffened, looking over her shoulder as one of Bokuto’s men stood directly behind her. The bodyguard gave a polite but firm nod toward the exit. She abandoned the shoes without a word and shuffled away, muttering something about “today’s youth.”

Kuroo turned to Bokuto, exasperated. “Did your guy just escort that grandma out of the store?”

Bokuto blinked, glancing over. “Oh, uh…yeah, probably.”

Kuroo’s mouth dropped open. “She had a walker !”

“Well, you never know!” Bokuto replied brightly as if this was all perfectly reasonable.

Kuroo’s eyes widened as another bodyguard steered a group of teenagers toward the door, their faces twisted in confusion as they were practically shooed out. “They’re just doing their job!” Bokuto added, oblivious to the ridiculousness.

“This is ridiculous,” Kuroo muttered, watching the store empty out faster than if there’d been a fire alarm. One employee standing behind the counter looked at them with a mix of fear and awe. Kuroo would have to apologize to her.

Kuroo moved toward the shirt rack, determined to at least pick something out, but one of Bokuto’s bodyguards reached the shirts before he did and immediately began picking them up and holding them to the light like he was inspecting for hidden cameras.

Kuroo sighed, rubbing his temples. “I just wanted to buy some clothes. I wanted to be normal. Why is this happening?”

As they moved to the next store, the situation somehow managed to get worse. Bokuto’s men were now fully committed to their roles, blocking aisles, herding shoppers, and giving ominous nods to anyone who so much as glanced in their direction. At one point, Kuroo was pretty sure he saw one of the bodyguards intimidate a mannequin into stepping out of his way.

By the time they reached the third store, Kuroo realized he was shopping in an almost entirely empty mall. The bodyguards had efficiently cleared out every store they’d entered, leaving only a handful of terrified employees behind.

Kuroo finally snapped when one of the guards started glaring at a sales associate who was nervously restocking a display.

“Okay, that’s it!” Kuroo threw his hands in the air, exasperated. “This is a mall, not a crime scene! Can we please stop terrifying random people?”

Bokuto, still holding up a pair of sunglasses he’d been considering, glanced at him curiously. “I mean, we’re almost done, right?”

Kuroo gaped at him. “We’re in an empty mall! How are you not seeing this?! I just wanted to buy some new clothes, not recreate a scene from Yakuza Wars! ”

Bokuto stroked his chin for a moment, thinking it over rather dramatically. “Hm. Next time, I’ll just send the guys ahead of us so the store’s clear before we even get there.”

The sheer absurdity of Bokuto’s words broke something in Kuroo. He stared at his boyfriend, speechless for a moment, and then, out of nowhere, he started laughing. It began as a slight chuckle but quickly grew into uncontrollable laughter. He doubled over, gasping for air, his entire body shaking.

“What’s so funny?” Bokuto asked, genuinely confused but smiling because Kuroo was laughing.

Kuroo wiped his eyes, struggling to catch his breath. “You’re impossible!” he managed between fits of laughter. “I should’ve just stayed home!”

Bokuto grinned wider, looking pleased with himself. “Well, next time, we can just buy out the mall!”

Kuroo burst into another round of laughter. He couldn’t stop, the ridiculousness of the entire situation hitting him all at once. Sure, it was insane, but something about it made him feel lighter, the stress of the past few weeks melting away in his laughter.

Eventually, Kuroo straightened up, wiping the tears from his eyes. “You’re crazy, you know that?”

Bokuto shrugged, throwing an arm around Kuroo’s shoulder. “Yeah, but you still love me.”

Kuroo looked at him, still laughing a little as he nodded. “Yeah. I really do.”

***

Kuroo sat in the dim hotel room, his phone clenched tightly in his hand. The email glared back at him, its words searing into his mind.

People would pay a lot to know what I know about you and Bokuto. Let’s talk soon or this information might just slip out.

Attached were photos that would have been enough to destroy them even without the current media frenzy. At first, they were just talking. But then, there was the kiss. Clear, undeniable. The kind of picture that could destroy everything.

Kuroo’s chest tightened as panic clawed its way up his throat. The world was already unraveling around him—his career in shambles, the media circling like vultures, his fanbase split down the middle—and now this. All the years of keeping his image airtight, of staying cool under pressure, felt meaningless. The control he’d mastered was slipping fast.

His first instinct was to call Bokuto. Tell him everything. But he couldn’t. Kuroo couldn’t drag him deeper into this mess—Bokuto had his own world to protect. And even if he did help, Kuroo couldn’t predict how far Bokuto would go. He couldn’t let that happen.

He had to handle it. Quietly. Alone.

Kuroo paced the room, mind racing through worst-case scenarios. The headlines. His face on every news outlet. His name turned to mud. His career dead in the water. And Bokuto? He didn’t even want to think about what would happen to him. The blackmail was dangerous enough. If Bokuto’s true identity got out, it wouldn’t just be Kuroo’s career—it could destroy Bokuto’s empire, or worse, cost his life.

His pulse quickened, breath catching as the anxiety built, coiling tighter and tighter until he felt like he was suffocating. Even more than his own downfall, he couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to Bokuto.

He glanced at his phone, the email taunting him. Maybe he could pay this person off. Make it all go away without involving Bokuto. He could keep it a secret, protect Bokuto, and keep the blood off both their hands.

Kuroo’s fingers hovered over the screen. He just had to respond. Set up a meeting. Handle this alone.

For the next few days, Kuroo tried to carry on as usual, burying the panic deep down beneath his usual persona. He made appearances, smiled for cameras, and tried to ignore the growing sense of dread gnawing at him. But every time his phone buzzed, his heart leapt into his throat. He couldn’t shake the feeling that the walls were closing in around him.

Bokuto, meanwhile, had noticed Kuroo’s odd behavior. They didn’t see each other as often as they used to, not with the chaos of Kuroo’s public life. Bokuto had been laying low, avoiding public places so as not to fuel the already rampant speculation. But when Kuroo canceled plans for the third time that week, Bokuto knew something was wrong.

It wasn’t long before Bokuto found out about the blackmail. Of course he would. Kuroo should have known better—Bokuto had eyes and ears everywhere. When one of Bokuto’s men reported back about the threat, Bokuto’s blood ran cold.

Not because of the blackmailer—that was a non-issue for him. People like that didn’t last long once they crossed someone like Bokuto. What rattled him and made anger rise in his chest was the fact that Kuroo hadn’t told him.

So Bokuto did what he always did: he took matters into his own hands.

The sound of the front door opening snapped Kuroo out of his thoughts. He hadn’t expected company, especially not tonight. His heart skipped a beat when he turned and saw Bokuto standing in his living room. But the look on Bokuto’s face wasn’t the usual warmth or teasing grin. Instead, his expression was tense, controlled—like he was barely holding something back.

“What are you doing here?” Kuroo asked, trying to sound casual, but his voice only came out breathless. He was already on edge, knowing this wasn’t an average visit.

Bokuto’s voice was low and serious in a way Kuroo hadn’t heard in a while. “You’re being blackmailed, and you didn’t think to tell me?”

Kuroo’s blood ran cold. How had Bokuto found out?

He swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. “H-How did you—?”

Bokuto stepped forward, his eyes hard, full of an anger Kuroo was unused to seeing towards him. “I have people everywhere, Kuroo. You think something like this would stay hidden from me?”

Kuroo stood frozen, guilt flooding him as he realized the weight of what he had tried to do. “I didn’t want to drag you into it,” he said weakly. “I thought I could handle it.”

“Handle it?” Bokuto echoed, his voice rising slightly. “This isn’t something you can handle on your own. You’re with me. You know what that means, Kuroo.”

Kuroo’s mind raced, and he scrambled to find the right words. “I just didn’t want you to have to deal with it. You already have enough on your plate because of me.”

Bokuto’s fists clenched at his sides, his anger rising further. “Do you think I can’t protect you? You think I wouldn’t do anything to keep you safe?”

“It’s not that,” Kuroo started, but his words faltered. What could he say? That he didn’t want Bokuto to get blood on his hands because of him? That he didn’t want to be the reason Bokuto killed someone?

Bokuto pulled out his phone, his fingers moving furiously across the screen. “I’m handling it.”

“Bokuto, wait—”

But it was too late. The door slammed behind him when Bokuto left as quickly as he came. Kuroo’s stomach twisted, staring helplessly at the door. There was no stopping him now. The blackmailer’s fate was sealed.

Time passed, and it felt like an eternity. Kuroo sat in silence, staying firmly planted on the couch. He didn’t know what Bokuto had done, but he could guess. The weight of the situation pressed down on him, and he felt like he was drowning under the enormity of it all. The threat would be gone, but at what cost?

When Bokuto returned, his expression was dark, the usual spark in his eyes replaced by something cold. He wore different clothes than previously, and Kuroo knew what that meant.

“It’s done,” Bokuto said simply, his voice devoid of emotion.

Kuroo wanted to ask, but there was no point. He already knew. The blackmailer wasn’t going to be a problem anymore. Not ever again.

And yet, despite everything, despite the knowledge of what Bokuto had likely done, Kuroo felt relieved. The weight that had been suffocating him lifted, and for the first time in days, he could breathe.

He should have felt horrified. He should have been scared that his boyfriend would resort to such measures. But instead, all he felt was gratitude. Bokuto had taken care of everything, and now, it was over.

“I didn’t want you to get involved,” Kuroo whispered, his voice cracking with his emotions finally overwhelming him. “I thought I could protect you.”

Bokuto’s face softened, his anger melting instantly. He hurried around the couch to pull Kuroo into his arms. “You don’t need to protect me, Kuroo. That’s my job.”

Kuroo buried his face in Bokuto’s chest, his breath shaky as the reality of the situation finally hit him. Bokuto hadn’t just solved the problem—he had saved him. Bokuto saved him again. And instead of fear, all Kuroo felt was an overwhelming sense of safety. It didn’t matter what Bokuto had done. All that mattered was that Kuroo was okay and that Bokuto had his back.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo murmured, his voice barely audible as he tried to press impossibly closer. “I should have told you.”

Bokuto pressed a kiss to the top of his head, his arms tightening around Kuroo. “Just don’t shut me out again. You don’t have to do stuff alone. I’m always going to be here with you.”

And finally, Kuroo believed it.

Everything had been spiraling out of control, but in this moment—held securely in Bokuto’s arms—he felt at peace.

Kuroo stayed in Bokuto’s embrace for a long moment, letting the warmth and safety wash over him. His heart, which had been racing moments ago, began to slow as the tension gradually unwound. Bokuto’s arms felt like a fortress—an impenetrable shield against the chaos of the world outside. The immediate threat was gone, but the weight of everything still clung to him: his career in tatters, his life under constant scrutiny, and the looming question of what came next.

Kuroo pulled back slightly, looking up at Bokuto, who still held him close, concern etched on his face. “Thanks,” Kuroo said quietly. “I didn’t mean for things to get so messy.”

Bokuto shook his head, cupping Kuroo’s face with one hand. “Don’t thank me. I’m not some savior. I just did what had to be done. You’re the one who’s been shouldering everything alone for too long.”

Kuroo leaned into his touch, sighing deeply. “I just didn’t want to drag you down with me. It feels like everything’s falling apart.”

“You’re not dragging me anywhere,” Bokuto said, his voice firm but kind. “I’m with you. Always. You’ve been trying to do it all alone and look where that’s gotten you. You don’t have to keep pretending everything’s fine when it’s not.”

Kuroo’s eyes flickered down, feeling the weight of those words. Bokuto had always seen through his facade, no matter how polished and put together he tried to appear. He’d spent years crafting his idol image, keeping his emotions locked away. Now, it felt like he was running on fumes, with nothing left to hold onto. The career he had spent his life building was crumbling, and for the first time, Kuroo didn’t have the fight to save it.

He let out a shaky breath. “I’ve been thinking about stepping back. Retiring.”

Bokuto’s eyes widened slightly, but he didn’t interrupt. He waited, his thumb brushing softly against Kuroo’s cheek, silently encouraging him to continue.

“I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I don’t think I want to.” Kuroo’s voice cracked as he admitted the thought that had been lurking in the back of his mind for weeks. “It’s been overwhelming for a while now, but with everything happening recently… it’s just too much. I’m exhausted.”

Bokuto’s gaze softened, his hand still gently cradling Kuroo’s face. “You don’t have to keep pushing yourself to the breaking point. If you want to retire, then do it. You’ve already given more than enough.”

Kuroo hesitated, his mind racing through the possibilities. Retirement felt like both freedom and a terrifying void. His career had been everything—his identity, his purpose. What would he be without it? And yet, the thought of stepping away, of letting go of the pressure and scrutiny, made him feel like he could breathe again.

“I just… don’t want to feel like I’m giving up,” Kuroo murmured, not looking at Bokuto.

“You’re not giving up,” Bokuto said firmly, leaning in closer, tugging Kuroo’s face to meet his gaze. “You’re choosing what’s right for you. There’s a difference. You’ve worked hard your entire life. You deserve to be happy, to do what you want. If that means stepping away, then so be it.”

Kuroo’s throat tightened with emotion, and for a moment, he couldn’t speak. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but somewhere along the way, Bokuto had become his home—the one person who saw through all the noise and truly understood him. He didn’t know what he’d done to deserve Bokuto’s unwavering support, but he felt like, for the first time in a long time, he could finally breathe.

“You’re right,” Kuroo whispered, his voice steadier, and he felt more confident than he had in much too long. “It’s time.”

***

The announcement came many weeks later, carefully coordinated with Kuroo’s management team. They were hesitant, of course—retirement wasn’t exactly what they had planned for their golden boy idol, especially not after all the controversy. But Kuroo was resolute. His mind was made up. He couldn’t keep living this double life, constantly torn between the public image he’d spent years building and the private reality he shared with Bokuto.

The press conference was brief, but the impact was immediate. Kuroo stood in front of the cameras, dressed impeccably as always, though there was a certain ease in his posture that hadn’t been there in a long time. His voice was calm and measured as he spoke.

“I’ve been incredibly fortunate to have such a rewarding career, and I’m grateful for the support I’ve received over the years from my fans and colleagues. But after careful consideration, I’ve decided that when my contract ends, I will not be renewing it. I will be retiring from the entertainment industry.”

There was a collective gasp from the audience, but Kuroo continued without hesitation, his gaze steady.

“This decision wasn’t easy, but I’ve realized that it’s time for me to step back and focus on other aspects of my life. I want to settle down and prioritize the people I love, especially my family. It’s time for a new chapter, one where I can take on different roles and be there for those who matter most.”

The subtle smile that tugged at the corners of his lips as he said those words didn’t go unnoticed by a few sharp-eyed reporters. The mention of a family, paired with his recent public appearances with Bokuto, was enough to send the rumor mill spinning again, but Kuroo didn’t care. He was done hiding, done pretending. He wasn’t ashamed of the life he wanted to build with Bokuto, even if the world never fully understood it.

“I can’t thank my fans enough for how amazing you have all been. I’m so grateful for all the support I’ve received over the years, and while this chapter is ending, I’m excited for what the future holds. I hope you’ll continue to stand by me as I move forward into this next phase of my life.”

With that, Kuroo bowed and left the stage, no longer having to stand in the spotlight.

Later that evening, Kuroo and Bokuto were alone in Kuroo’s apartment, and the tension from the chaos of the past weeks—months, really—was finally dissipating. They were curled up together on the couch, a sense of peace settling over them after the whirlwind of events.

“You really did it,” Bokuto murmured, his voice soft with admiration. “You’re free now.”

Kuroo smiled, leaning his head against Bokuto’s shoulder. “Just about. Only a few more things to wrap up now.”

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the quiet intimacy between them a welcome reprieve from the noise of the outside world. Kuroo felt lighter than he had in months—maybe even years. For the first time in a long time, he wasn’t worried about what came next. He had Bokuto, and that was enough.

Bokuto shifted slightly, glancing down at his phone. His eyes widened in sudden realization, and he shot up from the couch. “Crap! I lost track of time!”

Kuroo blinked in confusion, watching as Bokuto scrambled to grab his things. “What? Where are you going?”

“I have to go! I need to get the limited edition photocards before they’re gone!” Bokuto exclaimed, his tone urgent.

Kuroo stared at him, utterly dumbfounded. “Wait—what? Photocards? What are you talking about?”

Bokuto paused, his expression serious. “The new limited edition Kuro merch for your retirement. It will sell out fast! If I don’t get there soon, I’ll miss out!”

For a moment, Kuroo just stared at him in disbelief. He had been expecting some kind of yakuza emergency, not…this. Slowly, the absurdity of the situation began to sink in, and before he could stop himself, Kuroo burst into laughter. It started as a chuckle but quickly grew into full-blown, belly-aching laughter.

Bokuto frowned, though there was a playful glint in his eyes. “What? I’m serious!”

“I know, I know,” Kuroo managed between fits of laughter, wiping at his eyes. “I just can’t believe this is what you’re freaking out about.”

Bokuto crossed his arms, pouting slightly. “Hey, just because you’re retiring doesn’t mean I don’t want to collect all the merch.”

Kuroo shook his head, still laughing. “You’re the same fanboy from our first meeting, huh?”

Bokuto grinned, leaning in to kiss Kuroo on the cheek. “You love me.”

Kuroo smiled, his heart full as he pulled Bokuto back down onto the couch. “Yeah,” he said easily, “I really do.”

The future was uncertain, but for once, Kuroo wasn’t afraid of it. He had chosen this life— their life—and no matter what came next, he knew he wouldn’t face it alone. With Bokuto beside him, Kuroo felt ready for whatever the next chapter would bring. The stage lights had dimmed, but here, in the space they carved out for each other, Kuroo had found a different kind of spotlight—one that felt a lot like home.