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He can always tell what kind of day it’s been as soon Kuroo walks in. After so long he can read the man’s body language with ease, and even after years of hiding his worries behind smiles and flippant comments - ever the captain, unwilling to reveal his burdens - Kenma can tell how he’s feeling.
Happiness is found in his eyes, a gentle crinkle at the corners to match his crooked smile. It is stretched through his loose, relaxed posture, the openness with which he holds himself. A warmth that he spreads to others.
Exhaustion settles in his shoulders, which are left high and tense as if they are trying to contradict the weariness settling into his bones. A furrowed brow, a rigid stance, more like a marionette needing strings to hold him up than a person.
Anger starts in the teeth, hidden behind unsmiling lips, jaws tense and eyes cold. It’s just obvious enough that even those who don’t know him well can sense the tension with unease, like the heavy air before a storm breaks. Sometimes, rarely, he smiles, a baring of teeth that feels more like a promise of violence than anything else. Smiles that usually end with Kenma fixing cuts and bruises.
Sadness reveals itself through the fingers, where they curl limply at the end of his arms and trace absent-minded patterns on surfaces, like they are trying to act as a drain for his gloomy mood. If you didn’t know him well you might mistake the slumped shoulders and quiet posture for fatigue, but Kenma knows this closing off is more an attempt to keep a dam from bursting, than a struggle for consciousness.
Nervousness forces him out of stillness, whether standing or seated, small constant motions that attract the eye - and concern - to his distracted state. Nails bitten to the point of pain, lips chapped and chewed. Fingers tapping a rhythm that began as an annoyance, but now serves as a warning, prompting Kenma into action (a cup of tea and his quiet presence often enough to soothe frayed nerves).
Relief is fleeting; a shoulder slump, a soft sigh, or the disappearance of a furrowed brow. It is a transition to more pleasant place. The small things that he searches for in Kuroo to make sure things are getting better.
These and more have become everyday reading for him and are as familiar as his own mannerisms. So when Kuroo comes home and tense shoulders and jaw are traded for a small smile and a soft gleam in his eyes, all he needs to say is:
“Welcome home.”