Work Text:
Ding!
A notification pops up on Kuroo’s phone just as he’s about to send Kenma a text.
Cosy and gaming with Kodzuken–24 Hour Christmas Charity Stream Live in one hour!
Kuroo feels his heart drop and the little paper bag he’s carrying falls to the ground as well.
There’s music playing in the background as Kenma is checking his setup. He’s decided to appear as his flesh-tuber self rather than his vtuber model, so his ring light has to be set to the right intensity so that he doesn’t look too washed out. Today, he’s in a limited edition burgundy version of his Bouncing Ball hoodie in hopes that his viewers would purchase them off his website for the charity stream.
A notification pops up on one of his screens–one of his moderators affirming to him that the chat overlay is live and working and that people are already flocking in despite the time. Kenma toggles the transition screen and the viewers can now see a looping image of a calico cat playing with one side of a cassette tape as they listen to the playlist he’s sharing.
‘Kenma,’ a voice calls to him, snapping him out of the streamer persona he’s been focusing on all evening in preparation for tonight’s stream. Work has kept him so occupied in the office that he failed to realise that Kuroo’s was in his apartment.
An easy smile blooms on his features, softening his face as he takes a few steps towards where Kuroo is standing at the doorway. Going up on his toes, he hugs his boyfriend, burying his face into the soft scarf around the man’s neck and wrapping his arms around his torso. But there’s one problem.
Kuroo doesn’t return the hug. Doesn’t kiss him on his forehead like he usually does.
Sensing that something was wrong, the younger one pulled away with concern and confusion in his eyes. ‘Sorry I didn’t hear you, I was just setting up.’
There’s a strange prickling behind his eyes as Kuroo tries to blink the hurt away, but he knows how observant Kenma is so there’s no point hiding it. ‘You forgot, didn’t you?’
Kenma’s brow furrows and without waiting for a reply, Kuroo gently removes Kenma from himself. ‘We were supposed to celebrate Christmas together. Today? At akarenga ?’
Shit. Kuroo was right. He did forget. ‘Sorry, Tetsu I have the stream and I–’
‘ I know ,’ Kuroo starts through gritted teeth. ‘I know you usually do the charity stream on Christmas day. But I told you months ago, Kenma!’ the older man doesn’t mean to raise his voice a little. He doesn’t mean to sound this hurt–this isn’t the first time that Kenma’s work got in the way.
But this time, the disappointment feels heavy and awful and… lonely.
When Kenma reaches out for Kuroo hand, it’s slapped away. ‘We’ve been so busy these last few months and I just wanted to spend this one day with you–fuck, it’s not even a day, it’s less than four hours …’ this time Kuroo doesn’t yell. But that’s what makes it worse–breaks his heart.
Kuroo says it so quietly as the tears break through.
‘I messed up. I messed up big time,’ Kenma pulls him back into a hug and this time, Kuroo’s arms envelop his smaller torso. He takes long, heavy breaths and the man feels heavier than usual. Kenma knows that this isn’t just about the Christmas date that slipped his mind. There’s so much more weighing down on Kuroo’s heart.
‘Sleep over, please? After my stream I’ll make it up to you and we can talk about what’s bothering you here,’ Kenma places his palm over Kuroo’s chest.
Ding!
‘Of course you’re still going to stream,’ the tone in Kuroo’s voice has lost its softness and he pulls away once again, making his way to the front door.
Ding ding!
‘I have no choice, Tetsu! There are big sponsors tonight and the I’m going live in an hour–’
‘ I know! Of course I know, Kenma! You’re the love of my life– of course I know your schedule for everything !’ the pained sound that escapes his lips seems foreign, which is strange because it’s a voice he’s heard in his head for a long while.
Hand on the door handle, he looks back to his boyfriend. ‘That’s exactly why I plan things around it, that’s exactly why I told you months ago thinking that for once you’d fit me into your god damned schedule!’ the words that ring out don’t sound like his own, but they’ve been the exact words weighing in his heart for a long while.
His throat and his dry and his eyes sting as anger overwhelms his disappointment.
He has to leave.
Ding!
He has to leave now before he says anything worse to Kenma.
So, he does.
Ding!
It doesn’t really snow in December–not in Yokohama at least. Winter takes its time in Japan. It takes its time to frost over after months of changing seasons, and even though the snow stays for less than a month, the cold feels like it’s here to stay for good.
Kenma watches the countdown timer tick away as he grips his phone tight in his hands.
Thirty-minutes.
Ding ding ding ding , his moderators are texting him. Reminding him which sponsor he should promote in what order. Telling him that the viewers love the Christmas playlist. Lining up the games for him for tonight. Feeding him with live updates of the stock from the merch store.
But all Kenma cared about was how he hurt Kuroo–the man he loves. The man who’s always so calm and easy-going, who never once cared if they had to reschedule a date because of Kenma’s line of work. Who only always had positive words of affirmations for him since they were kids.
The crack in his voice just now… he’s never heard Kuroo so upset. Not even when they lost nationals. Not even when his parents got divorced.
It’s just a date, isn’t it? Just like many others they’ve had in their years together. Kuroo knows how important the charity stream is to him–for his career–Kenma and his team had spent months trying to get these big-name sponsors to work with them! The stream wasn’t even Kenma’s idea to begin with. Kuroo had brought up the idea years back when Kodzuken finally had a decent enough following.
‘Damnit, Tetsu. Pick up,’ he whispers as he stares anxiously at his phone and when the call is rejected for the fifth time, Kenma sends him a text message. Two blue ticks appear against his text almost immediately.
But there is no response.
As the timer continues its countdown, Kenma stares vacantly at the head of a macrame black cat that’s dangling from his phone.
Elsewhere, the Minatomirai-line train arrives at Bashamichi station. Most of the people in his cabin leave in a chatter–majority of them hand-in-hand with a loved one. Kuroo turns to look out the window–towards the famous Red Brick Warehouse of Yokohama city known for its winter-only outdoor skating rink and lively Christmas market. A place where couples flock to during Christmas to snuggle with each other in the cold by the water, sharing a cup of mulled wine and Christmas cookies.
He of all people knew. It’s where he and Kenma confessed to each other all those years ago after all.
His phone chimes with a long text from Kenma that he doesn’t even bother to skim through. Then it buzzes a few times before the calls stop completely. And when the jingle for departure plays for a second time, Kuroo quickly gets off onto the platform and watches the train depart. He takes a look at the stream that’s still counting down as the head of a macrame calico cat that dangles from his phone strap swings to and fro.
Resting his elbows on his knees, Kenma presses the palms of his hands into his eyes.
And as a tear rolls down his cheeks again, Kuroo rubs his eyes with the back of his hand.
₍^. .^₎⟆ ₍^. .^₎⟆
Icy wind sends shivers through Kenma’s entire being. Was there a window open? Kenma thinks to himself as he tries to wrap his arms around himself. Then… he realises that he’s unable to do it. He can’t feel his arms. There’s another gust of wind that blows by and Kenma feels his whole body get swept up into their air!
‘Gotcha!’ a voice squeaks and along with it, there is warmth. ‘Look grandpa! I caught it!’
That voice…
‘That’s good dear boy, now give it back to the vendor. It probably took her a long time to make that keychain from scratch!’
Kuroo jiji?
‘Oh that’s quite alright. If he wasn’t around, it would’ve ended up in the ocean! You can keep it–give it to a friend or someone special.’
‘Really? Thanks lady!’
Kenma’s eyes open with an inaudible ‘pop’ and all he sees is a giant Kuroo Tetsurou aged nine staring gleefully at him for some reason. He tries to let out a yelp, but there is no voice. In fact, he doesn’t even think he has a mouth!
‘I hope Kenma likes you. You’re small and cute, just like him!’ the young boy says to himself in a vote of self-confidence as Kenma feels them skipping away into the Christmas market.
₍^. .^₎⟆
It’s dark. There’s a strange rustling of paper all around him that’s making his body itch all over. It’s stuffy and Kuroo can’t move his limbs as he feels like he’s being moved—was he being been kidnapped?!
‘I’m sure he’ll love it, and you worked hard to buy it too!’ The voice outside is a little muffled, but he knows that voice like it was his own mother’s.
Kozume-mama.
‘Yeah… but what if he doesn’t?’
‘Then that’s alright too sweetheart. You can’t control what Kuroo likes or dislikes, right? At the end of the day, he’s still your friend,’ the gentle and reassuring voice pauses before Kuroo is almost blinded by a bright light.
When his vision clears, he’s met with a very young Kenma looking down at him with wide cat-like eyes. His slight frown dissipates when someone ruffles his dark hair, causing a small smile to pull gently on his lips. As he looks up at the person, the sunlight forms a soft halo around the boy and Kuroo is reminded of the days they spent together in their youth.
Kuroo tries to reach out–to tuck Kenma’s fringe behind his ear or to cup that soft cheek in his palm–but he can’t seem to move his hands.
‘I hope Kuroo likes you,’ Kenma says simply, words that sound light and airy to anyone else. But Kuroo knows the weight it carries. He knows the unspoken meaning behind that simple sentence.
₍^. .^₎⟆
It’s strange seeing things from the perspective of a tiny macrame cat dangling from someone’s phone. It’s even weirder seeing things upside down because of the way Kuroo’s holding his phone. The day’s crowd had dispersed–most of Nekoma’s team had taken the bus back to school, leaving behind their captain and their trusted setter.
From Kuroo’s perspective, he sees Kenma on his phone as the boy is waiting by the roadside. He’s still in his sportswear and slightly oversized jacket, his hair tied up in a tiny ponytail with parts of his fringe falling across his face.
‘So this is how we lose Nationals eh, Kenma?’ Kuroo’s voice sighs. Macrame-Kenma can hear his friend take a gulp from his drink before he continues.
‘I wish you could see yourself like how I do. I don’t know how you do it–how your brain works on the court–but I wish you gave yourself more credit. Y’know, I wanted to ask you to take over me as Captain after I graduate, but I know what your answer will be,’ there’s a tinge of sadness in his voice–not one from disappointment, but from yearning.
Macrame-Kenma sways side by side as Kuroo throws his drink into a recycling bin and adjusts his bag. There’s the soft clack-clack-clack as Kuroo types out a message on his phone, ‘I can’t ask you to be Captain, and I don’t think I have the courage to ask you out yet, so the least I can do is spend time with you before I leave for college.’
The scene before macrame-Kenma looks familiar… but from a different perspective. The setting sun before him, the stadium to his right, the slightly echoey final announcements of the stadium’s closure for the day in the background. He knows the text that Kuroo just sent him. He remembers being confused yet touched when he read the message. He remembers the relief in his heart because he knows that Kuroo didn’t take the loss too hard.
Want to head back and play some games until we fall asleep?
Sure. But don’t you want to watch the video of today’s match?
Nah, too much volleyball today.
Who are you.
‘KENMAAAA!’ Kuroo yells from across the square, waving enthusiastically with his free hand. The boy in question gives a small wave back, confusion on his face as to why Kuroo was texting him when they were within walking distance from each other.
‘Thanks for playing volleyball with me,’ Kuroo says softly as he walks towards his best friend. ‘I’m glad I had the courage back then to ask you all those years ago.’
₍^. .^₎⟆
It’s quiet where he is. The school bell had already rung, signalling the end of the school year. There’s a rumble of excited footsteps and squeaking sneakers throughout the floors below them and Kenma sighs.
‘For someone who’s graduating, you look so sad,’ Kenma speaks his mind, ensuring that his voice was quiet enough so as not to wake the boy whose head is resting on his lap. They’re on the rooftop enjoying the breezy air. Sometimes if they’re lucky, the petals of the huge sakura tree in Nekoma’s courtyard would drift upwards–an indication that spring had finally arrived.
‘You looked like you carried the sadness of more than one person…’ he whispers, gently threading his fingers through Kuroo’s dark hair. Not ten minutes ago, they’d been arguing about what movie to watch over the weekend. Now, Kuroo is snoozing comfortably on Kenma’s lap.
Kenma glances at his phone to his side. Attached to it is a tiny macrame cat that’s supposed to represent Kuroo. The latter has a matching pair that’s supposed to represent Kenma. A silly little thing from a long time ago that mirrors each other. They’d both bought ones that represent each other, then decided that they’d keep the ones they’d bought instead because they wanted a little part of each other with themselves to have always.
He looks up to the sky, clear and blue without a cloud in sight. ‘Mama told me how sad you were on the last day of middle school. That you were masking your emotions for me.’ Kenma is quiet for a bit before he pokes the little macrame-Kuroo attached to his phone with his finger.
‘It’s not healthy, Kuroo. I wish you’d be more vulnerable… in front of me, at least. College won’t be easy and I need you to talk to me in the middle of the night instead of keeping them in your heart and crying alone in your room,’ Kenma sighs and brushes his fingers across Kuroo’s sleeping face–tracing his nose, his cheek, and eventually hovering over his lips.
‘I like you, Kuroo. And I’d hate to know that you might cry alone like that with no one to hug and comfort you out of your sadness. Just… promise me you’ll take care of yourself,’ he pinches Kuroo’s lips playfully, a pout forming on his own as Kuroo yelps in surprise.
‘Ow! Kenma!’
‘Promise me, Kuroo,’ this time, Kenma pinches his nose.
Kuroo tries to swat his fingers away but to no avail. ‘What did I do! What promise am I making?!’
‘Just… promise me,’ he says quietly, brows knitted into a frown. Kuroo stops struggling. He’s known Kenma most of his life and can recognise when the younger one has had a full conversation in his head alone.
‘Hey,’ Kuroo utters, gently pulling Kenma’s fingers off from his nose and holding his hand against his cheek. ‘I promise, whatever it is, I promise.’
₍^. .^₎⟆
‘Kenma,’ Kuroo calls out to the screen, but the boy is sitting cross-legged on the gaming chair and picking at his nails.
There are a few clicks and some typing on the keyboard before Kuroo clicks his tongue in annoyance. ‘Damnit, Kemna, I’m not as good as tech as you are. How do I join this Discord thing!?’
The man fumbles for his phone to check for the time, and macrame-Kenma takes a good look at the Kuroo he sees before him. Exhaustion is apparent under his eyes and his nose is red from a cold as Kuroo is bundled up in two fleece blankets while sitting at his tiny desk. Kenma knows this apartment.
Achoo! Sniffle. Cough.
‘It’s your first stream, and there’s no way I’m missing it even if I’m on death’s door. Okay, it says here that I just need to change the output and input settings for the sound…’
There’s more clicking and a bit of swearing. The laptop restarts once and Kuroo takes the opportunity to replace the cooling patch on his head. Finally after thirty-minutes, there’s the familiar blip of someone joining a discord call. Kenma’s expression lights up immediately and macrame-Kenma’s heart flutters at the sight of this scene. He remembers how nervous he was back then, even when it was just a discord stream for a very small community of gamers.
Kuroo goes on a string of apologies before rambling about how un-tech-savvy he is as he struggles to open another water bottle by his side. He even tries his best to mask his voice so that the streamer couldn't tell that he was sick.
‘But enough about me. I’m so proud of you, Kenma! I knew you’d make it big in the gaming industry! So what if you’re a little quiet and shy—a lot of gamers are, aren’t they? You don’t have to fake a personality to be like one of those extroverted gamers. Just be yourself, like you always have been around our friends—around me. Who knows, one day when you become HUGE and run your own company, you’ll inspire others as well,’ Kuroo finally takes a breath and another gulp of water.
‘You inspire me, do you know that? You always have,’ he says adoringly, and macrame-Kenma can see his lip quiver a little.
‘Kuroo?’
‘Hmm?’
‘Kuroo, I see your icon glowing green but I can’t hear you. I think you have your mic muted. Do you see a microphone icon anywhere? Just click on it and you’ll be unmuted in the call,’ Kenma’s voice comes through his little earpiece.
Kuroo sighs and does as he’s instructed.
₍^. .^₎⟆
The door closes as Kenma thanks the delivery man. He sets down both his phone and the paperbag with a balloon attached onto the coffee table before taking a seat on the tatami mat, pulling his knees close and resting his cheek on them so that he can stare at the bag.
The familiar kanji stamped on it makes his eyes sting and it’s not long before Kenma is sobbing silently into the sleeve of his jacket. Well, Kuroo’s jacket.
Macrame-Kuroo takes a glance at the living space—messy with clothes washed and unwashed draped on various furniture, takeaway boxes of unfinished food, a few cans of coffee and energy drinks gathered on the dining table. This was when they had that huge fight.
This was when they broke up.
The phone buzzes and Kenma’s tired gaze shifts to it. When he sees who the text is from, his eyes start to water again.
‘Eh?’ Only it wasn’t just a text. Kenma clicks the audio message and Kuroo’s voice plays—first a badly sung birthday song, followed by a sniffly, sappy message.
‘I’m sorry, Kitten. I shouldn’t have called you selfish. You’re pursuing your own dreams after all, just like I am right now. And just because we’re brok—sigh—not together, doesn’t mean I’ll forget your birthday and not send you your favourite apple pie. You haven’t taken it out of the bag, have you? Go on, I’ll wait.’
And Kenma does. Just as he has a fork in hand, Kuroo’s voice continues.
‘Listen, I’m not saying you’re right, either—we’re both in the wrong. The both of us had every right to be mad, to feel like our feelings weren’t validated. But I was wrong for saying that we should take a break. We should’ve revisited the conversation like adults the next day. Because when you’re with someone you love, you brave yourself to have those hard conversations. And you know how crazy in love I am with you, right Kitten?’
‘But I don’t deserve you…’ Kenma’s voice responds weakly. ‘You’re too patient for everything that’s wrong with me. You try your best to support both our dreams and you—’
‘I bet you think that you don’t deserve me. Stop, Kenma. I wouldn’t be the man I am now without you. And I know that you don’t believe that so I’m already on my way to the airport to take the first flight I can find back home to tell you that in person. So please, I beg of you, save me a slice of the apple pie okay? I’ll see you soon.’
The chuckle that comes out of Kenma breaks him out of his crying as he holds his phone close to his chest. It takes the man awhile before his breathing calms down and he takes a bite out of the apple pie that Kuroo sent him. It’s from a store in Nishiazabu that Kuroo found for him when they first started dating. It became a tradition for Kuroo to send him a slice for his birthday ever since.
‘You scare me, Kuroo. You make me so happy that it scares me,’ Kenma says suddenly, taking another small bite from the dessert.
‘Your relentless confidence in me—in us—it’s daunting because I never know if I’ll be able to match it for you.’
Another bite.
‘I only hope that I give you confidence in yourself as well. I want to be better at it. For you, for us.’
Beep.
It’s a message from Kuroo and attached with it is a photo of Heathrow Airport with his passport.
₍^. .^₎⟆₍^. .^₎⟆
Ding!
Ding!
Ding!
Kenma ignores it. He’s already given instructions to his moderator team so he’ll let them handle the postponed stream. After all, he has more important things to handle at the moment.
‘Shit, why is there a traffic jam? This is Yokohama for fuck’s sake!’ he hisses, feet tapping impatiently as the taxi he’s in moves a little before it comes to yet another halt. At this rate, he’d be better off walking to Kuroo’s apartment!
‘Sorry kiddo, there’s been an accident near Bashamichi station. Looks like they’ve cordoned off half the road and police are trying to redirect traffic. You’re welcome to go on foot–I won’t charge you since we–hey!’ At that, Kenma slaps a few notes onto the passenger’s seat and leaves in a hurry. Running as fast as he can, he tries Kuroo again but the man doesn’t answer.
It’s a one in a million chance, but Kenma is an overthinker and he can feel his heart in his throat as he reaches the crowd near the station. ‘C’mon, Kuroo. Pick up please .’ A part of him wants to run past the accident, but a part of him needs the confirmation that it isn’t who he thinks it is. Slowing down, Kenma tries to push the bystanders whilst trying to eavesdrop to find out who the victim is.
Then he sees it.
The scarf on the ground behind the barrier tape.
There are traces of blood on it and Kuroo’s phone goes to his voicemail yet again. The whispers and chatter around Kenma muffles and his vision tunnels before the man is yanked out of the crowd.
‘–nma!’
What colour scarf did Kuroo wear today?
‘Kenma?’
Was it the wool one, or the branded one that he got for Kuroo when they went to Rio togeth–
‘Kenma!’ he’s shaken back to reality and the sounds all come at once, but only one voice is as clear as day.
Kuroo’s, and the man is standing right before him unharmed and looking equally shaken. He grips Kuroo by the sleeves, unable to say anything because of the tears that are caught in his throat and as he bites his lip, Kuroo pulls him into a tight hug and Kenma can barely breathe–can barely understand a word that Kuroo’s saying because he’s half-sobbing into his shoulder. But he doesn’t care and circles his hands around Kuroo’s waist, thankful that nothing’s happened to the love of his life.
Kenma takes another bite out of the shared sandwich that the pair got from a nearby 7-11 whilst Kuroo gives him the update on the accident that happened an hour ago. ‘Thankfully the man isn’t too injured. The van stopped in time so the impact wasn’t crazy.’
‘But there was blood!’ the sandwich is exchanged for a paper cup of warm mulled wine. Not too far from where they’re seated, the Christmas market of akarenga is bright and cheery with couples, friends and family. Music and jingles are being played as they two sit comfortably in each other’s arms nearer to the sea.
Kuroo finishes off the wine and folds the cup neatly, stuffing it in his jacket until he can find a recycling bin. ‘Yeah, well, a head injury would do that. He got flung into a street lamp and cut his head open. Other than a concussion and a few stitches, he’ll be fine.’
‘Oh. Well, that’s ironically anti-climatic,’ Kenma’s grip on Kuroo’s hand in his pocket tightens as the sea breeze picks up.
‘Right? I was thinking the same thing!’
‘Kuroo, I–’ Kenma starts, breaking himself free from Kuroo but instead of listening, the latter starts wrapping his scarf around Kenma’s neck to keep him warm.
‘It’s okay, Kitten. I know. And I overreacted too–’
Shaking his head, Kenma takes both of Kuroo’s hands into his. ‘No. It’s not okay and I need to apologise. You can’t keep giving in to me all the time. It’s not fair. It’s not how a relationship works. I’m sorry I forgot about tonight, and I’ll do better next time,’ he insists, and Kuroo's eyes go soft.
‘Thank you,’ whispers Kuroo, pulling Kenma in for a proper hug. It’s warm and… warm . It’s loving and comforting and most importantly, it feels right . ‘I’m sorry I ruined your stream.’
Kenma shakes his head. ‘They’ll understand. And if they don’t then I’ll just find better sponsors.’
‘Hey, soooo this is going to sound a bit–well, a lot crazy–but… did you happen to have a weird dream? Visions maybe?’ Kuroo asks, pulling away and reaching for his pocket.
Kenma holds up his macrame-cat phone strap, the one that looks like Kuroo. ‘You mean the ones where we got transported back in time to hear all the conversations that we never told each other about because we were young and stupid?’
‘I don’t know what’s scarier: the fact that you seem very calm about it, or the fact that we’re really just not going to question the strange supernatural Christmas phenomenon. But yes,’ Kuroo says, holding out his own phone strap that resembles Kenma.
‘Hmm, we’ve watched too many Christmas movies now that it seems normal,’ he considers. ‘And don’t call it a supernatural Christmas phenomenon!’
‘What should we call it then?’
‘A Christmas Miracle.’
Kuroo snorts.
Kenma sneezes, then tries to push Kuroo off the bench for laughing at him.
‘Merry Christmas, Kitten,’ Kuroo utters softly, placing a gentle kiss on Kenma’s cheek.
The phone buzzes, but Kenma pockets it without a second thought and catches his boyfriend by his chin to pull him in for a kiss with the Christmas fanfare of akarenga in the background.
And they stay in each other’s embrace until the last jingle is played, until the last stall is closed, until the last of the crowd have dispersed.
Until there is only them and the beautifully decorated tree on Christmas day.