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God, Kenma hates flying.
It’s not even the plane, not really. Turbulence doesn’t bother her nearly as much as she expected and she makes more than enough to afford first class when the need arises, so cramped seats are hardly a concern. The flights themselves actually give her some much needed time uninterrupted by messages or social media notifications to edit videos or play games; maybe it’s not right to say she hates flying.
It’s the god-forsaken airport.
Kenma makes good money— really good, actually, but sadly not enough to forego the ordeal altogether… not that she’d ever fly private, what a waste.
All this to say, after a very productive eleven hour flight of sleeping, editing, and shiny hunting in a private cubicle, the absolutely enormous and crowded airport she steps into is nothing short of jarring. And she doesn’t even get to leave.
She just had to agree to participate in a women in gaming panel at a convention in the states. Obviously the topic matters to her, but when she has to dodge three different suitcases before she’s even been out of her gate for five minutes she has to wonder if showing support online and joining a group stream wouldn’t have been enough. She’s been out of the country plenty of times for work, but Florida will be a new check off the list.
First, though, an overlay in Texas. The two hours she’ll spend there being in a terminal. She thinks prison sounds more appealing.
It’s not all bad, she guesses. Being out of the country whose language she streams in does mean she’s a bit less concerned about being recognized left and right, especially in such a busy place. She’s not taking off her mask, but the sunglasses can stay in her bag and she’s not too concerned with keeping her hood up. She probably could’ve even gotten away with wearing a bouncing ball hoodie, but the plain black one she has is perfectly worn in and several sizes too big, just comforting enough.
The flight information displays aren’t too far off, but there’s way too big a crowd around them for her to see from this far. With great effort, she’s able to shoulder through a bit and—
Ah.
That would explain the crowd.
DALLAS FORT WORTH TO LOS ANGELES INTERNATIONAL - CANCELLED
DALLAS FORT WORTH TO HARTSFIELD-JACKSON ATLANTA — CANCELLED
DALLAS FORT WORTH TO EASTERN IOWA AIRPORT — CANCELLED
DALLAS FORT WORTH TO SAN FRANCISCO INTERNATIONAL — CANCELLED
It just keeps going, Kenma’s scanning as fast as she can, some of them are still on schedule, surely—
DALLAS FORT WORTH TO FORT LAUDERDALE — CANCELLED
“Aah, really? International too?”
Kenma’s head snaps to the side. There is, statistically, literally no way that voice sounded as familiar as it did for the reason she thinks.
Just to her right, messy dark hair, leaning back with her hands on her hips in a long sleeved tee shirt and sweats. There’s just no way.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to yell! It’s just my flight— Oh!”
Maybe there is a way for Kuroo Tetsuro to be four feet away from her in an airport in Texas of all places.
“Ha, sorry, you know you look just like someone I—“
“Kuro.” Kenma hooks a finger under her mask and pulls it down, just in case there’s any doubt.
Kuroo’s mouth falls open— short, layered hair curling in bits around her face. They stand in silence for a beat before her face breaks out into that huge smile Kenma always loved. Kenma hardly even has time to process the fact that she just thought about always loving Kuroo’s smile before Kuroo’s leaning down to a comical degree and wrapping her up in a hug like absolutely no time has passed.
“ Kenma, holy shit, what are you doing here?”
“Apparently getting stranded.”
Kuroo breaks out into boisterous laughter, like that was the funniest thing she’s heard all day and Kenma pretends it isn’t making her stomach feel like it’s full of cotton.
“Well, since we both seem to have some time, wanna get something to eat?”
Every time someone asks what happened between her and Kuroo, Kenma says she doesn’t know. That they still talk sometimes but they grew apart after high school— that’s common, people tell her. Sometimes someone can be the most important person in the world and just gradually start to live a completely separate life. That’s sad, she says, and people usually drop it after that.
After a great deal of self reflection and a few am I gay quizzes, Kenma admits, it may have been a bit more than that.
Kuroo left for college. Kuroo started dating.
Maybe that isn’t fair. Kuroo went on a couple of dates and Kenma had absolutely no idea what to do with the fact that Kuroo dating made her so jealous she felt physically sick. So she pulled back, little by little, not wanting her clinginess to hold Kuroo back from finding someone.
By the time she figured out that’s what she had done, it felt too late.
Now, she has a wildly successful online presence with a quickly growing business to match and as far as her last google search would suggest, Kuroo is doing some incredibly influential work with the JVA.
How Kuroo managed to find a quiet, Kenma might even dare say comfortable corner of what Kenma has decided is the airport from hell she’ll never know, but she has to admit it’s such a comfortingly Kuroo thing to do she feels years younger quietly chatting and eating with her childhood best friend.
“So what are you doing here?” Kenma asks, picking her a not-completely-terrible danish.
“Ah, I’m supposed to be going home! I just closed a pretty awesome partnership with a states-based volleyball association for some social media stuff— you’re going to a convention, right?”
That catches Kenma off guard.
“You know about that?”
Kuroo has the nerve to blush .
“We are mutuals on everything you know, I see when you post announcements.”
“I didn’t know you were paying attention to that stuff, I figured you just liked and scrolled.”
Kenma can only describe the sound Kuroo makes as an affronted squawk.
“I pay lots of attention! I watch your streams when I can, I’m very supportive!”
“You do?” Kenma’s never seen her in chat.
Kuroo looks down and the feeling Kenma gets seeing her look shy makes her want to scream.
“I just— you know, it helps when I miss you.”
It’s such a normal sentence, and yet Kenma’s world feels like it’s crashing down around her. She knows , probably better than anyone that Kuroo isn’t as cool and unaffected as she likes people to think, but she didn’t think Kuroo would be missing her , especially not this late, she barely even did anything when they were still close, Kuroo misses her?
She’s been spiraling too long, Kuroo’s starting to look embarrassed and she really can’t have that, so she can’t think of a less direct way to word it.
“I miss you all the time.”
Kuroo’s expression looks absolutely cracked open.
“ Kenma .”
“Just— I don’t, know, I—“
“C’mere.”
It’s not like the quick, shocking hug hello they had at the info screens— it feels like old times. She gets to just relax in Kuroo’s hold like countless sleepovers where her futon on Kuroo’s floor went completely untouched. It feels safe. Kuroo smells clean, something fresh and maybe ocean-themed mixed with something subtler that’s nothing but intensely familiar. Her shirt is soft and she’s wearing a thin silver chain around her neck. Kenma’s already committing her to memory.
“Hey, Kenma?”
She looks up as well as she can with her head under Kuroo’s chin.
“Wanna hang out when you get home from the convention?”
In the end, Kenma’s glad she went to the convention. The panel was productive and interesting, she got to meet some of her streaming friends from overseas, and better than any of that, by some chance she got to reconnect with Kuroo, who never really stopped being the most important person in the world.
She’s just barely unpacked again when she leaves the house. The grocery store nearby put out their kitschy little holiday decorations while she was gone, and she can’t help but pick up a couple of cat Christmas ornaments near checkout when she goes to get mackerel pikes— Kuroo’s going to love them all. Kenma’s sure her tree is already up, she’s always loved the holidays, and Kenma realizes somewhere along the way she started to love them too, if only for reminding her of helping Kuroo decorate sugar cookies to bring to her grandparents.
It’s a surprisingly short ride between her new place in Kuroo’s, she wonders how many times they almost ran into each other, maybe they’d been on the same train once or twice.
Kenma knows she’s found the right place when she sees the wreath on the door and the wipe your paws doormat.
She sort of expected ringing Kuroo’s doorbell for the first time in years to be scarier, but all she feels is the warm sensation of coming home settling in her stomach.
Yeah , she decides when Kuroo opens the door, a bit flushed, grinning, and absolutely, undeniably, life-ruiningly beautiful. She’s home.