Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tokyo summers were sticky with heat and full of noise—cicadas screaming in the trees, kids' laughter echoing through alleys, the smell of street food rising with the sun. In the middle of it all was Kuroo Tetsurou, eight years old and already the gravitational center of his neighborhood.

Broad-shouldered, tall for his age, with sharp eyes and an unruly shock of black hair, Kuroo had the kind of charisma that made people pay attention without meaning to. Even before his second gender presented, there was something instinctively commanding about him. His faint pre-Alpha scent—a musky dark chocolate softened with a breeze from the sea—was still subtle, but left a lingering presence.

By his side, often unnoticed until people really looked, was Tsukishima Kei, age six. Taller than most kids his age, but slight in frame, Kei had the kind of beauty that made people blink. A porcelain complexion, delicate features, soft blonde hair, and a quiet presence that drew the curious in. Unlike Kuroo’s rough-and-tumble energy, Kei was reserved, intelligent, with a calm maturity far beyond his years. His scent, still only faint in its early stages, hinted at strawberries dipped in honey—sweet, golden, and gentle.

“They’re like a manga couple,” Akiteru, Kei’s older brother, often teased, nudging the two boys whenever he caught them sitting too close on the porch or sharing a book.

“We’re not,” Kei muttered, flushing and pushing up his glasses.

“You keep saying that, but Kuroo’s always around,” Akiteru grinned. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the way you smile at him when he’s not looking.”

“I do not smile at him!”

“You do!” Akiteru crowed.

Kuroo just smirked. “He totally does.”

And yet, those were days filled with laughter and small things that didn’t seem small back then—split melon bread, lazy weekend afternoons, whispered conversations under sun-dappled trees. The bond they shared was quiet but deep, tethered by time and trust.

Until things changed.

Kuroo’s circle expanded. Older boys, louder games, more attention. Kei didn’t mind at first—he understood. But one afternoon, walking behind the school building, Kei overheard something that made the warm summer feel suddenly cold.

“Why do you hang out with that kid, Kuroo?” one boy scoffed. “He’s weird. Quiet. Kinda... soft.”

“And way too pretty,” another chimed in. “Probably gonna end up an omega.”

Kuroo’s voice followed. “Maybe... maybe he’ll be an alpha.”

“But what if he isn’t?”

A pause.

“He won’t stay pretty forever,” Kuroo said with a forced chuckle. “I’m sure he’ll grow into something different.”

Kei stood still, his hands clenched tightly at his sides. The words weren’t cruel—not really. But they stung in a place he hadn’t known existed. A part of him already knew what he was becoming. He wasn’t like Kuroo. But he also wasn’t fragile. He was just... him.

He walked away quietly. Didn’t cry. Didn’t confront.

Instead, he began pulling back. No drama, no accusations. He just gave Kuroo space—slowly, gently, until the bond stretched thin. Kuroo noticed, of course. But surrounded by louder voices and shifting friendships, he didn’t know what to say. So he said nothing.

Until the final day.

The sky was orange with the setting sun when Kei rang the doorbell at Kuroo’s apartment. His bag was packed, and his heart was strangely calm.

Kuroo’s mom called out, “Tetsurou! Kei-kun is here!”

Kuroo came running to the door, barefoot and startled. “Kei?! What are you doing here?”

“I came to say goodbye,” Kei said, voice soft. “We’re moving tonight. To Miyagi.”

Kuroo froze. “Wait... tonight?! But why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I thought it wouldn’t matter anymore.”

“Of course it matters!” Kuroo blurted. “Kei, I—”

Kei cut him off by holding out a small velvet pouch. From it, he pulled a silver chain with a honey-gold gem, round and smooth, glimmering in the twilight.

“It matches my eyes,” Kei murmured. “I wanted you to have something to remember me by. Even if... even if we’re far apart.”

Kuroo stared at it. “You really picked it just for that?”

Kei gave a small nod. “I overheard you. That day by the wall.”

Kuroo paled.

“I know why you said those things,” Kei said, gently. “I understand. You were just trying to fit in. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay,” Kuroo said, stepping forward. “Kei, I shouldn’t have said any of that. I didn’t mean it. I was scared. But... listen to me, okay?”

Kei looked up.

“I don’t care what your second gender ends up being,” Kuroo said fiercely. “Beta, omega, alpha—you’ll always be precious to me. Always. I’m really, really sorry I made you think otherwise.”

Kei blinked. The honesty in Kuroo’s voice, the way his hands shook just slightly—he hadn’t expected it. He hadn’t dared to.

“You mean it?”

“I swear,” Kuroo said, his hand curling around the necklace. “This... I’ll wear it every day.”

Kei smiled softly, and this time, Kuroo noticed how it reached his eyes.

“You better,” Kei said, almost playfully. “Otherwise I’ll haunt you.”

Kuroo chuckled, then reached out and—awkwardly—pulled Kei into a brief hug. Kei froze, then relaxed just enough to rest his chin on Kuroo’s shoulder.

They pulled apart slowly.

“I’ll miss you,” Kuroo murmured.

“I’ll miss you, too.”

Kei took a step back toward the sidewalk.

As the wind shifted, his scent—strawberries and honey—lingered in the summer air, soft and bittersweet. It hit Kuroo like a memory and a promise all at once. The warmth stayed with him, even after Kei turned the corner and vanished into the dusk.

He looked down at the necklace in his hand, the honey-gold gem winking up at him.

He didn’t know when, or how, but he knew one thing for sure.

He would see Kei again.

Chapter Text

It had been nearly nine years since that summer goodbye.

Kuroo Tetsurou, now a third-year and captain of Nekoma High’s volleyball team, had grown into every expectation placed upon him. Broad shoulders, sharp smile, and a reputation that stretched beyond his own school. His second gender had settled in early—Alpha, as expected—but his scent had matured into something magnetic: a rich, musky dark chocolate with a breeze of ocean salt. It was comforting and commanding all at once.

Still, the necklace around his neck remained unchanged. Silver chain, honey-golden gem that shimmered faintly in the sun. Its color mirrored a memory, warm and wistful—Kei’s eyes. Only a few of his closest friends knew what it meant.

There was even a persistent rumor, passed around quietly in the lower grades, that during his first year, an omega girl had tried to flirt with him and reached out to touch the necklace.

“He nearly bit her head off,” one second-year whispered in awe. “She just looked at it too long.”

“She cried after that,” another added. “Didn’t even say anything—just cried.”

Yaku, a fellow third-year and Nekoma’s libero, snorted when he heard it again.

“She was way too bold,” he muttered. “That necklace is sacred territory.”

Yamamoto grinned. “What if the mystery person who gave it to him was his first love?”

“He even tried searching for them online, didn’t he?” Yaku teased, elbowing Kuroo. “Gave up when they had zero digital footprint.”

“Shut up,” Kuroo grumbled. “At least I tried.”

“And failed.” Yamamoto snorted. “You’re getting clowned by a ghost.”

“I swear, if I ever find him again—”

“You won’t,” Yaku sighed. “Some people don’t want to be found.”

Kuroo gritted his teeth. It wasn’t for lack of trying. He’d looked up every version of Tsukishima Kei he could think of. But Kei had no social media presence, no mutual connections, not even a trace in volleyball forums. And the worst part? Kuroo himself had moved to a new apartment after elementary school, so every letter Kei might’ve sent—if he sent any at all—had been returned undeliverable.

Still, Kuroo never took off the necklace. That gem—his eyes—was the only proof that Kei had ever been real.

---

That morning, the second-year corridors of Nekoma were unusually noisy.

“There’s a new transfer,” someone whispered.

“From Miyagi, I think?”

“Yeah. Class 1-B. He’s an omega.”

“And he’s so pretty—like, model-level.”

“He’s tall, too. I thought he was a second-year.”

Kuroo wasn’t paying much attention until Kenma nudged him.

“I saw him,” Kenma mumbled, barely looking up from his console. “Kinda familiar.”

“Familiar?” Kuroo raised a brow.

Kenma gave a vague shrug. “Can’t place it.”

Kuroo dismissed it at first—until gym practice.

---

In the hallway between classes, Tsukishima Kei adjusted his glasses as he passed through the lockers outside Class 2-C. His scent—strawberry threaded with golden honey—drifted subtly around him, soft but distinctly omega. People turned when he walked by, whispering not just about his scent, but his appearance.

“Did you see his face?”

“He’s like a doll.”

“Those eyes. God.”

As Kei tucked a book into his locker, pretending not to hear, two girls walked by behind him.

“I heard a girl tried to touch Kuroo-senpai’s necklace once.”

“Yeah! He got pissed—like, really pissed. She was an omega, too.”

“Right? And he never gets mad like that. People said it’s from someone he really loved.”

Kei paused, his hand resting against the locker door. He didn’t turn around. He didn’t react. But his heart fluttered strangely, and for a moment, he felt warm.

So he still wears it, Kei thought. He really kept it.

He pressed his lips together, a faint smile flickering on his face. His ears glowed red as he walked away.

---

That afternoon, Kuroo returned to the classroom late and stopped cold in the doorway of Class 1-B.

Golden light streamed through the windows, catching the strands of soft blond hair.

The boy seated by the window didn’t notice him—or maybe he did and simply chose not to react. Pale skin, clean-cut glasses, calm demeanor.

But it was the eyes—honey-colored, reflective and distant—that made Kuroo’s breath catch.

“Kei.”

No one else heard him whisper it.

---

At volleyball practice that day, the team gathered to meet the first-year recruits.

“This is Tsukishima Kei,” Coach Nekomata announced. “He’ll be joining as middle blocker. Some of you may know his older brother, Akiteru.”

Yaku narrowed his eyes. “Wait. That name…”

Kuroo stepped forward as if in a daze. Kei, in full Nekoma uniform, nodded slightly.

“Looking forward to learning from everyone,” he said coolly.

Lev’s jaw dropped. “He’s—he’s like a prince.”

Yaku groaned. “Not again.”

Yamamoto elbowed Kuroo. “Your necklace-giver’s taller than you expected, huh?”

Kenma, from the bench, looked between them once and said quietly, “I knew I remembered him.”

Kuroo couldn’t even tease back.

Because as Kei walked by him, that familiar scent—strawberries and honey—wrapped itself around Kuroo’s lungs like a memory and a lifeline all at once.

And just for a second, Kei glanced up at him.

Not smiling.

Not frowning.

Just looking.

Kuroo's chest tightened.

He didn’t know if Kei had come back into his life by fate or coincidence.

But he knew this:

It wasn’t over.

Chapter Text

The gym was filled with the echo of shoes squeaking and the rhythmic thump of volleyballs against hardwood. Karasuno had arrived for their practice match against Nekoma, and the atmosphere was electric.

Kuroo stood tall at the net, arms crossed loosely as his eyes scanned the other team. Most players he recognized instantly—Hinata, the explosive orange-haired decoy; Tanaka, loud and energetic; and, of course, Kageyama Tobio, the intense alpha setter with a reputation that preceded him.

But his eyes drifted sideways—to Kei, who stood tall beside him on Nekoma's side of the court, expression unreadable, fingers flexing as he warmed up. The doll-faced omega didn’t look nervous at all, but Kuroo noticed how his eyes lingered on the Karasuno players.

Specifically… on them.

Yamaguchi, the cute freckled face omega and Kageyama, an alpha.

---

Earlier that day, the hallway buzzed with talk of the match.

“Karasuno’s arriving today.”

“Is it true they’ve got two alphas on the court?”

“Yeah, Kageyama and Daichi. But it’s Kageyama that everyone talks about.”

“They say he’s cold but deadly.”

Kei didn’t chime in, but the name "Kageyama" made his lips twitch ever so slightly. Back in Sendai, he’d occasionally heard of Karasuno’s rising setter prodigy, and seeing him now again—stern, precise, hyper-focused—was somewhat amusing.

And when Kageyama barked at Hinata during warm-ups—

“Use your brain, dumbass!”

Hinata shouted back, “It’s working just fine, stupid king!”

—Kei, standing nearby while tying his shoe, let out a small laugh.

A quiet, genuine, amused laugh.

Kuroo, who’d been stretching across the court, turned his head at the sound.

His eyes locked onto Kei, whose mouth was still curved in that rare smile.

That smile.

And suddenly, Kuroo wasn’t hearing the rest of the gym anymore. His scent spiked faintly—dark chocolate and saltwater curling into something sharper.

Yaku smirked from beside him. “What’s got your tail in a twist?”

“He’s laughing,” Kuroo muttered.

Yamamoto leaned in. “You jealous?”

“Why would I be jealous?” Kuroo snapped, a little too quickly.

“Because Tobio the Alpha Doomlord got a laugh out of your omega?”

“I—he’s not—” Kuroo looked away. “Shut up.”

Kenma, deadpan as ever, chimed in without looking up from his phone. “You're jealous. It's funny.”

---

The game begins as Nekoma and Karasuno squared off under the gym’s high lights. The match was technically just a scrimmage—but to the players, it was more than that. Pride, reputation, and tension simmered beneath every serve and spike.

Kei blended into Nekoma's rhythm almost unnaturally well. His blocks were well-timed, his reading of the game surgical. Karasuno noticed him quickly.

“Wait,” Hinata whispered to Tanaka. “Is that a new guy?”

“Tall… glasses… seriously good blocker…” Tanaka stared. “Kind of pretty?”

“Looks like he’s not scared of Kageyama at all,” Daichi added, watching as Kei held Kageyama’s intense gaze across the net.

---

On the sidelines, aside from the match, the audience sure have more than volleyball occupying their interest.

“Did you hear?” one of the girls from Nekoma whispered excitedly.

“That first-year omega? That’s him.”

“The one who gave Kuroo-senpai his necklace when they were kids!”

“No way! I thought he disappeared?”

“He didn’t disappear—Kuroo just couldn’t find him. They say he wrote letters, but they got returned.”

“Because he moved?”

“No, because Kei moved to Sendai, and Kuroo changed addresses too. It’s like fate didn’t want them to reconnect—until now.”

Yaku eavesdropped from the bench, smirking to himself.

---

Halfway through the match, the ball came soaring over the net—Kei and Kuroo both leapt.

For a second, the gym stilled.

They landed in sync, blocking a powerful spike from Asahi.

The crowd exhaled.

Kei turned toward Kuroo, breath light but composed.

Kuroo looked back, their eyes catching for the first time mid-match.

Kuroo’s voice was soft, almost hidden under the cheers.

“You’re still amazing, huh?”

Kei’s lips curved up slightly. “You’re not bad either, Captain.”

Their scents lingered for a second—sweet honey-strawberry weaving through warm chocolate and sea breeze.

The match moved on, but that moment didn’t.

---

After the practice match as the gym emptied, Kei lingered near the water station, toweling off his hair. Kenma approached him quietly.

“You’re not hiding very well,” Kenma said.

Kei looked up. “Was I supposed to?”

Kenma stared at him for a moment, then sat beside him on the bench.

“Your scent—it’s still the same.”

Kei’s expression faltered. “You remember it?”

“Yeah. You were always with him back then. Like a shadow.”

Kei glanced down at his hands.

“I didn’t expect to come back,” he said quietly. “But maybe I was supposed to.”

Kenma shrugged. “He never forgot you. Even if he acted like it.”

Kei’s lips curled into that faint smile again—the same one that had haunted Kuroo for years.

From the other side of the gym, Kuroo watched the exchange silently.

His teammates teased and laughed around him, but his eyes didn’t leave Kei once.

Chapter Text

Practice was brutal that week.

Coach Nekomata was pushing the team hard for upcoming tournaments, and with Kei now fully integrated into Nekoma’s lineup, pair drills had become more focused, more intense—and for Kuroo, more frustrating than usual.

“Pair up!” the coach barked. “Kuroo, Tsukishima—you’re together.”

The gym quieted for a breath.

Kuroo blinked. “Coach?”

“You two read each other better than the others already. Don’t waste that. Work on block coordination and eye movement.”

Kei didn’t react, just stepped forward without hesitation.

“Understood,” he said calmly.

Kuroo clicked his tongue and followed him to the net.

Kenma passed by slowly, whispering just loud enough for Kuroo to hear: “Good luck not combusting.”

---

Drill One: Block Coordination

Their fingers brushed once—barely.

Kuroo jerked his hand back like he’d touched fire. Kei looked at him briefly.

“Still that jumpy around me?” Kei asked, voice even.

“You’re the one who disappeared.”

“I didn’t disappear,” Kei said softly, without heat. “You just couldn’t find me.”

Their eyes met. Kuroo opened his mouth—then shut it. The scent of strawberries and honey surrounded him again, warm and dangerously distracting. His own scent—rich chocolate and salt air—curled against it like a stormfront.

Lev bounced over between sets. “You two are so in sync it’s freaky.”

“Yeah,” Yamamoto chimed in. “Like soulmates or something.”

Kuroo glared. “Can we not?”

Lev blinked. “Sorry. Just saying, Tsukishima-kun’s really cool for an omega. You’re like… elegant.”

Kei nodded politely. “Thanks.”

Kuroo scowled.

Yaku caught the look and snorted. “You look like you’re about to explode.”

“I’m fine,” Kuroo muttered.

“You’re not,” Kenma said without looking up from his game.

---

Later That Night – Locker Room

The practice had ended in sweat and silence.

Most of the team filtered out, leaving only a few lingering in the locker room. Kei was by his locker, changing out of his jersey when he overheard soft whispers from two second-years at the end of the row.

“Did you see how Kuroo was acting?”

“Like a jealous boyfriend.”

“I still can’t believe the rumors are true. He really never took that necklace off. All because of that childhood friend.”

“Who is it though?”

Kei’s hand stilled over his shirt buttons.

Another voice added, “He's the transfer student, Tsukishima Kei. I heard he tried to find him online for years. Couldn’t even dig up a photo.”

“Man, that’s sad. Dude was basically ghosted.”

Kei bit the inside of his cheek—a mixture of guilt, warmth, and something else he couldn’t quite name settling in his chest.

Ghosted. Is that what it looked like to them?

He hadn’t meant to disappear. It wasn’t his fault the letters never reached Kuroo. He’d written. He’d tried.

He exhaled, quietly.

The door opened, and Kuroo stepped in alone.

Their eyes met again, and this time, neither looked away.

---

Alone Together.

Kei sat on the bench, finishing his laces. Kuroo leaned against the locker nearby.

Neither spoke at first.

Then Kuroo said quietly, “You’re still the same.”

Kei’s head tilted slightly. “Taller.”

Kuroo smiled faintly. “Still have the same scent.”

“You remembered it?”

Kuroo’s voice dropped. “I never forgot it.”

Kei’s fingers froze.

There it was again—that ache in his chest. That heat in the air between them. It wasn’t just old memories anymore. It was now.

“I didn’t mean to vanish,” Kei said, tone softer than usual. “I wrote to you. They came back unopened. And you moved.”

“I looked for you,” Kuroo admitted. “Everywhere. Online. Forums. Classmate lists.”

“You really kept the necklace?” Kei finally asked, his voice quieter than ever.

Kuroo glanced down at the gem resting against his chest—the color of Kei’s eyes, warm and gold.

“I wear it every day,” Kuroo said. “It’s the only way I knew you were real.”

Kei’s breath hitched just slightly.

Their pheromones, subtle all practice, suddenly surged—sweet honey blending into chocolate, a scent that shouldn’t work but somehow, impossibly, did.

Kuroo inhaled sharply, eyes locked on Kei.

Then he looked away, muttering, “Damn it…”

“What?”

“I thought I was over this.”

Kei stood slowly. “Over what?”

“You,” Kuroo said. “Or the idea of you. Or… the hope of you.”

Kei didn’t reply. But his gaze was steady, calm—understanding in a way that made Kuroo’s frustration curl into guilt.

“Are you angry with me?” Kuroo asked, quieter now.

“No,” Kei said simply. “I was hurt. But I understood.”

“You always do,” Kuroo said, voice rougher. “Even back then.”

Kei looked down. “And you always thought I’d grow up to be alpha.”

“That’s not why you’re precious to me,” Kuroo said. “I told you that. Remember?”

Kei’s throat bobbed.

He nodded.

Kuroo stepped closer, then stopped—just inches apart.

“I don’t care what your second gender is,” he said. “You’re still the one I’ve been looking for.”

Silence hung between them—thick with everything unsaid.

Kei didn’t move. But he didn’t step back, either.

And Kuroo realized, in that moment, that their childhood crush wasn’t gone.

It had just been waiting.

Chapter Text

The Nekoma gym buzzed with lazy energy. No balls were flying, no whistles blew, but the team stood in a circle, passing memories like a volleyball in the air.

“Remember that practice match with Karasuno?” Yamamoto started, nudging Lev with an elbow. “The one where I totally nailed that receive?”

“You mean the one where Hinata jumped over your head?” Yaku shot back, raising an eyebrow.

Yamamoto groaned. “Ugh, are we really starting the day by embarrassing me?”

Kenma’s eyes stayed on his phone, thumbs moving slowly. “Hinata’s really fast,” he said softly. “Kind of… impossible to ignore.”

Kuroo chuckled, glancing at his best friend. “That sounded almost admiring.”

Kenma’s ears turned pink. “It’s not—he’s just interesting. Like a glitch you can’t debug.”

“Sounds like a crush to me,” Lev chimed in, grinning.

Kenma didn’t reply.

Kei stood just off to the side, quiet but listening. The mention of Hinata and Karasuno made his gaze soften just a little. The scent of old wood and warm sun filtered through the gym—familiar, comforting.

His fingers brushed the hem of his jersey, where faint traces of his favorite scent lingered—ocean breeze overlaid with musky, bitter chocolate. Kuroo.

Kuroo’s eyes flicked over to Kei, as if sensing the thought. He saw the slight smile, the calm stillness Kei carried. And underneath it, the delicate scent—strawberry laced with honey. The way it mixed with his own was almost dangerous.

Before the moment could stretch too long, Coach Nekomata entered, clipboard tucked under his arm.

“Team!” he called. “Heads up. Important news.”

The buzz quieted instantly.

“Karasuno’s coming tomorrow. Not for a match—this time it’s an inter-school collaboration. Education-focused. Joint discussions, project groups, lectures. You’ll be attending some classes with them.”

“Seriously?!” Lev shouted, bouncing slightly.

“Hinata’s coming back?” Kenma asked, sounding far more casual than he looked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Coach Nekomata waved them down. “No matches. Be polite, look smart, act like you didn’t wake up five minutes before school.”

Yaku crossed his arms. “We’re gonna have to put on our uniforms properly.”

“They better not destroy the school,” Yamamoto muttered.

Kuroo’s gaze returned to Kei.

Karasuno. Which meant Yamaguchi. Which meant Kageyama.

His fingers twitched.

- - -

Kei stood beside Kuroo, Yaku, Kenma, and the rest of the Nekoma team as the Karasuno bus arrived. He wore the black Nekoma jacket zipped halfway, his hair slightly mussed from the morning breeze.

The moment the bus doors hissed open, a familiar voice cut through the air.

“TSUKKI!”

Yamaguchi leapt off the step with wide eyes and sprinted toward him, arms already open.

Kei blinked, startled, just before Yamaguchi wrapped his arms tightly around his waist.

“I missed you, idiot. We seriously need more events like this. I hate how far you are now.”

Kei laughed softly and patted Yamaguchi’s back. “You’re still as dramatic as ever.”

“No I’m not! We didn’t even get to chat last time since practice ran late!” Yamaguchi huffed indignantly.

Then Tobio Kageyama stepped down after him, walking with purpose. In one hand, he carried a neat paper bag.

Without a word, Tobio stepped into Kei’s space and pulled out a rice ball, unwrapped it, and gently held it to Kei’s mouth. Kei took a bite without blinking, chewing slowly as Tobio handed him a sandwich next, and finally a small bottle of strawberry milk, which he unscrewed and held to Kei’s lips.

“You could’ve just given me the bag,” Kei said, voice flat but eyes amused.

“You’d forget to eat,” Tobio replied. “You always do when you’re nervous.”

Then, Tobio stepped closer—closer than most would dare—and reached up with one hand to smooth Kei’s hair, lingering just long enough to tuck a lock behind his ear. His other hand tugged gently at the collar of Kei’s uniform, fixing it with practiced ease.

And just before stepping back, Tobio leaned in, his lips brushing close to the shell of Kei’s ear, and released a concentrated wave of his alpha scent—earthy, grounding, and unmistakably dominant.

The scent wrapped around Kei like a second skin, protective and possessive. Kei’s omega scent responded instantly, warm honey blooming over ripe strawberries, saturating the air between them.

It was almost silent, except for the sharp, startled inhale from behind them.

Kuroo stiffened beside Kenma, the back of his neck tingling.

His own scent—musky dark chocolate, edged with sea breeze—spilled into the air before he could stop it.

Yaku blinked, sniffing. “Whoa. You’re leaking, Captain.”

“Shut up,” Kuroo muttered.

Lev leaned toward him. “Is this, like, an omega showdown thing?”

Kenma rolled his eyes. “More like a brain short-circuit.”

- - -

Kei sat with Yamaguchi and Tobio again, this time grouped for a joint literature exercise.

Their heads bent together over one notebook, their laughter quiet and natural.

From across the room, Kuroo watched, barely listening to Kenma as he tried to explain something about sentence structure.

“They smell like they’re bonded. Or almost bonded,” he muttered.

Yaku looked over and raised an eyebrow. “Jealous much?”

“They’re too close.”

Kenma, without glancing up, said, “They’ve known each other a long time. I think Tobio said he met Kei when he was seven.”

“That’s a long time,” Yamamoto whistled.

“And that scent?” Kuroo muttered again.

“You could scent him back,” Yaku offered, biting back a grin. “Fair’s fair.”

Kuroo let out a breath, his pheromones curling again, subtle but unmistakable.

Lev sneezed. “Why does it smell like the room got dessert?”

- - -

Low tables lined the gym floor. Paper lanterns hung from the ceiling. Bento
boxes and bottled tea were set out on long mats.

Kei sat between Yamaguchi and Tobio, leaning back against the wall while listening to the others talk.

Tobio’s arm slung lazily over his waist, thumb brushing soft patterns just under the hem of Kei’s jacket.

Yamaguchi leaned closer with a grin. “Tobio. Honestly, if we didn’t know each other for so long, I’d be jealous of how you treat Tsukki… You better make it up to me when we get back.”

Tobio shivered. Didn’t even glance over. But he pouted slightly and said, “I brought him food.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yamaguchi muttered, but he was smiling fondly while Kei just laughed.

“Stop teasing the king, Dashi,” Kei said with a smirk. “We all know you’ll be the one crying in bed.”

Yamaguchi gasped, wide-eyed and scandalized. “Tsukki!”

Across the gym, Kuroo stared into his drink like it had just insulted him.

“You okay?” Kenma asked again.

Kuroo didn’t answer.

He was too focused on the way Kei looked—relaxed, smiling, and radiant in someone else’s scent.

Chapter Text

The Nekoma gym still buzzed faintly with leftover laughter, the scent of bentos and bodies clinging to the air. Most of the teams had broken into small groups—talking, lounging, teasing.

Kei sat cross-legged between Yamaguchi and Tobio near one of the low tables, half-finished bento resting by his side. Tobio’s arm draped casually around his waist, thumb brushing slow, lazy shapes along his hip bone under the hem of his jacket. It wasn’t subtle. Not by a long shot. His eyes wandered again—unintentionally, he told himself—toward the opposite end of the gym where Kuroo leaned against the wall, arms folded and expression unreadable.
Except for his pheromones.

Musky dark chocolate swirled around Kuroo like smoke, layered thickly with that familiar ocean breeze. Kei shivered.

Yamaguchi noticed. “Someone’s leaking again,” he said, nudging Kei’s ribs lightly. “And I don’t mean Tobio this time.”

Kei blinked, pretending innocence. “Hmm? Who?”

“Captain Kuroo over there practically smells like a dessert bar. He's watching you like he's about to start growling.”

Yamaguchi rolled his eyes dramatically. “Don’t play dumb. He’s been glaring at Tobio’s hand like it personally offended him.”

Kei’s lips twitched despite himself. “I noticed.”

Yamaguchi’s grin widened. “You like it.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’re literally smiling right now.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re totally smiling. Like, stupid smiling. I've only seen that smile after you win a debate or eat seasonal parfaits.”

Kei gave up and hid his face in his hands for a moment, groaning softly. “It’s not—he’s just… I don’t know. He was never this obvious before.”

Kei’s cheeks flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with temperature. He didn’t look up immediately, but he felt Kuroo’s eyes on him. It made something flutter at the base of his spine.

Tobio, silent until now, shifted beside Kei. His arm was no longer around Kei’s waist, but his leg was pressed against his, and the scent surrounding them was undeniably his. Earthy, dominant, and thick.

“Is it bothering you?” Tobio asked suddenly.

Kei looked up.

Yamaguchi blinked, caught off guard.

“You’re tense,” Tobio continued, eyes on him. “Your scent’s scattered. And you keep sniffing the air like you’re chasing something.”

Kei hesitated. “...I was wondering if you could maybe tone it down a little.”

Tobio blinked once. “Tone what down?”

Kei looked around, cautious. “The scenting.”

Yamaguchi sat up straighter. “Oh.”

“It’s not that I mind,” Kei said quickly. “But it’s strong. And it’s covering up Dashi’s scent too. It’s making it look like only you scent me. Which… isn’t true.”

Tobio’s jaw clenched. His gaze darkened—not with anger, but something heavier.

“No,” he said flatly.

Kei blinked. “What?”

“No. I can’t.”

Yamaguchi frowned. “Tobio—”

“You know I can’t,” Tobio said, cutting them both off. His voice wasn’t raised, but it was sharp. He looked at Kei. “Do you want me to remind you why?”

The moment dropped like a pin in a quiet room.

Kei’s fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket. “That was years ago.”

“You were in middle school,” Tobio continued. “After PE. You were sweating through your shirt, exhausted, and your suppressants were wearing thin and you're even wearing 2 scent patches. Your cycle had started early and none of us realized it. You didn’t even smell it yourself yet.”

Yamaguchi’s shoulders visibly tensed beside them.

“You were alone. Locker hallway was empty. I was in the club room already. Yama had gone ahead. And a third-year alpha—some nobody with a superiority complex—followed you.”

Kei’s breath caught, but he didn’t speak.

“He said you smelled too ‘sweet’ to be unclaimed. Said you must’ve been looking for attention. He grabbed your wrist so hard you couldn’t move. Sprained it. Bruised it purple. You missed volleyball for almost two weeks.”

Yamaguchi set his chopsticks down, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“You barely got away,” Tobio went on. “Ran into the science room and locked the door behind you. You called Yama, but he didn’t answer. I found you because your scent was everywhere. It reeked of fear.”

Kei looked down at his knees, the heat behind his eyes rising fast.

“You were curled behind a lab table, still in your gym clothes, shaking. Crying. You didn’t recognize me. You kept screaming for me to get away. Your scent was spiking and sour and terrified. Then you collapsed. Heat onset triggered by stress. You passed out before the nurse could even get there.”

Yamaguchi rubbed a hand over his face. “I remember,” he said softly. “We thought it was going to be fine. We thought he’d be safe.”

“I beat the bastard half to death,” Tobio said flatly. “Didn’t even hesitate. Broke his nose. Cracked his ribs. Got suspended for two weeks. Didn’t care.”

The silence that followed was dense and tight.

Kei’s voice, when it came, was very small.

“I hated myself for not being strong enough.”

“You locked the door,” Tobio said firmly. “You got away. That’s strength, Kei.”

Yamaguchi nodded, eyes wet. “You didn’t do anything wrong. He did.”

Kei nodded slowly. But his fingers were trembling slightly where they rested on his thigh.

Then Tobio finished, voice low and firm: “That’s why I won’t stop scenting you. That’s why I can’t. Because people like him still exist. And next time, I might not be fast enough. You’re mine to protect. And if scenting you keeps creeps away—even one—I’ll do it every single day until you ask me to stop for real.”

Kei let the words settle. They didn’t erase the memory, but they wrapped around it like gauze—gentle and grounding.

He leaned into Tobio’s side a little more. “...Fine. Just don’t scent me when I’m holding hot tea. I don’t want to burn someone.”

Yamaguchi laughed wetly. “You’re so dramatic.”

“And you’re one to talk,” Kei shot back, smiling through the ache.

Across the room, Kuroo stood up to throw away his untouched drink.

He glanced over his shoulder once—just long enough for Kei to meet his eyes.

And this time, Kei didn’t look away.

Chapter Text

The inter-school collaboration finally came to a close. Teachers clapped, students bowed, and the lingering warmth of the shared experience floated through Nekoma’s halls like a soft, golden haze.

At the gate, the Karasuno bus waited with its engine purring quietly. One by one, the students began saying their goodbyes.

“Tsukki,” Yamaguchi called softly, pulling Kei into a tight hug. “We don’t know when we’ll see each other again, so…” He reached into his bag and pulled out a small plush owl. “I scented this for you. You can put it in your nest. Maybe it’ll help a little.”

Kei’s breath caught in his throat. The plush was warm and familiar, smelling just like Yamaguchi—soft grass and apple blossoms.

“Yama…” Kei hugged it to his chest, then pulled Yamaguchi in again, tighter this time. “I’ll miss you.”

“You better,” Yamaguchi said, voice cracking just a little. He sniffled and stepped back quickly, rubbing at his eyes. “I’m going before I cry in front of everyone.”

He jogged to the bus, waving furiously.

Only Kei and Tobio remained behind.

The air between him and Kei had the quiet weight of old friendship, heavy but warm. Kei stood there holding the plushie while Tobio stepped closer.

He stepped forward, hands tucked in his pockets, jaw tight. Kei could tell he was trying not to overdo it. Not here. Not in public.

"Thanks for protecting me all these years, Tobio," Kei said softly, eyes searching his. "Even when I didn’t ask you to. Even when I didn’t know I needed it."

Tobio looked up at him, his expression unreadable. “You don’t have to thank me for that.”

"You’re Yama’s best friend. That makes you mine, too."

Kei’s voice dropped to something almost tender. "You’re not just a friend. You’re family. My stupid, overprotective, dense-as-hell family."

"Thanks for... putting up with me.”

Tobio tilted his head. “You say that like you’re a burden.”

“You can be honest. I’m a little annoying.”

“You are,” Tobio replied, without missing a beat. “But you’re my friend. You’re Yamaguchi’s friend. And that makes you important.”

Kei smiled faintly, then sobered. “Take care of him, Tobio.”

Tobio blinked.

“I’m serious,” Kei continued. “If I ever hear that Yama cried because of you, I swear I’ll come running back to Sendai to punch you in the face.”

Tobio’s eyes widened a little. “You’d fight me?”

Kei narrowed his eyes. “You think I wouldn’t?”

Tobio cracked a rare, small smile. “He won’t cry. I promise. He’s the most important person I’ve got.”

Kei nodded. “Good.”

Then, without warning, Tobio stepped forward and hugged him. It wasn’t like their casual touches earlier—it was more intentional, solid, lingering.

Kei stiffened for a second, but then relaxed as he felt the warmth seep in. Tobio’s earthy, grounding scent wrapped around him again—stronger now.

Before stepping away, Tobio pulled out a neatly folded jacket from his backpack and handed it to Kei. “I wore this all week. For you. If any alphas around here don’t get the message, use it.”

Kei blinked down at it, then back at Tobio. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I’m prepared.”

Kei smirked, stepping closer again. “Thanks,” he said softly—and then leaned in, lips near Tobio’s ear.

Whatever Kei whispered made Tobio’s entire face turn red. His eyes widened like saucers.

He jumped back, spluttering. “What the hell—?!”

Kei laughed, biting back a grin. “Brownie points. For your omega.”

“You’re such a jerk!” Tobio grumbled, still flustered. “Stupid-shima.”

Kei waved as Tobio marched off toward the bus, ears still red.

But the whole time—unbeknownst to either of them—Kuroo had been standing nearby, watching. Watching the hug. The whisper. The way Kei leaned in. And worst of all—the jacket now in Kei’s hands, drenched in another alpha’s scent.

His jaw tightened. His chest twisted. And his control slipped.

That familiar swirl of dark chocolate and ocean breeze leaked around him—thick, charged, and territorial.

After Karasuno left, the gym emptied quickly, and Kuroo didn’t say much to anyone. Kei noticed. Of course he did.

So when it was finally time to go home, he caught up with Kuroo outside.

“Walk me home?” Kei asked casually.

Kuroo blinked, surprised, then nodded stiffly. “Yeah. Sure.”

They started down the familiar streets, the air still clinging with early summer warmth.

The tension between them was palpable.

Kei tried to make small talk—mentioned Lev’s failed cartwheel, Yaku’s dramatic complaints, even a joke from Yamamoto—but everything was met with quiet hums or half-hearted responses. Kuroo barely looked at him.

“How’s your chemistry grade?”

“Fine.”

“Did Lev ever find his missing sneakers?”

“No clue.”

“Okay,” Kei muttered. “Riveting conversation.”

Kuroo glanced at him but said nothing. Kei sighed.

By the time they reached the park near their homes, Kei couldn’t take it anymore. He stopped walking. Kuroo walked a few more steps, then turned.

Kei stood with his arms crossed, brows furrowed and lower lip jutting out ever so slightly.

“What?” Kuroo asked, trying to keep his tone neutral.

“You’re being stupid,” Kei said plainly. “If something’s bothering you, just say it. I’m not a mind reader.”

Kuroo opened his mouth, then closed it again. His hand came up to scratch the back of his head.

“I’m…” He exhaled slowly. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m just—frustrated.”

“Because of Tobio?”

Silence.

Kuroo looked away. That was answer enough.

“I can’t help it,” he finally admitted. “Seeing you so close with another alpha. Covered in his scent. It—” He paused, struggling. “I know we haven’t really talked about… us. Or anything. And maybe it’s not my place. But I hate it.”

Kei’s lips parted slightly.

“I hate seeing you covered in someone else’s scent,” Kuroo whispered. “Especially him.”

There was a beat of quiet. The wind rustled through the trees.

“We haven’t had time to talk,” Kuroo added. “Not properly. And I guess… I didn’t want you to see this version of me. Jealous, moody. Not exactly my best angle.”

Kei scoffed. “You’ve always been a jealous mess. You used to glare at anyone who beat me at Uno.”

Kuroo gave a weak chuckle. “Only because you’d pout for hours.”

Kei’s expression softened. Then he scoffed softly and looked away, pout forming on his lips.

“If you’re that bothered, you could’ve just said you wanted to hang out...” he muttered.

Kuroo blinked. “What?”

Kei side-eyed him. “This weekend. Just us. If you want.”

Kuroo straightened, eyes lighting up like a switch had been flipped. “You mean it?”

“Don’t make me take it back,” Kei warned, cheeks tinged pink.

Kuroo grinned. “No! I mean—yes. I want that. Definitely. I’m free. Completely. I’ll cancel everything else.”

Kei smirked. “Of course you will.”

They exchanged numbers with awkward fumbling, pink touching their cheeks. The rest of the walk felt lighter. The tension had dulled, replaced with something softer—hopeful.

They stood in front of Kei’s house, under the soft glow of the porch light. The night had quieted down—no more footsteps, no more goodbyes. Just the two of them, standing too close and still not close enough.

Kuroo shifted, unsure what to do with his hands. “So… this is your place.”

Kei nodded, his fingers playing with the hem of his jacket, avoiding Kuroo’s eyes. His scent, usually cool and sweet, had gone slightly sour again—frustrated, heavy with unspoken things.

Kuroo’s eyes flicked to him, alarmed. “You’re leaking again.”

Kei sighed, cheeks red but voice steady. “I know. I can’t help it. You’ve been acting weird.”

“I told you, I—” Kuroo started, but Kei cut him off.

“If you’re so bothered by another alpha’s scent on me…” Kei said slowly, gaze rising to meet his, “then… you can do something about it.”

Kuroo froze. “What?”

“You can scent me,” Kei said quietly, but not without conviction. “If it makes you feel better.”

Kuroo’s breath caught. His fingers twitched at his sides. “Kei…”

“I don’t want to go to bed with his scent on me either,” Kei whispered. “I want… I want to fall asleep with yours.”

That broke whatever restraint Kuroo had left.

He stepped forward, closing the distance between them. His hands reached out, tentative at first, then firmer—one settling at Kei’s waist, the other cupping the back of his neck. Kei shivered, but didn’t pull away.

“Are you sure?” Kuroo murmured, his voice low and rough. “You’re giving me permission?”

Kei nodded, chest rising and falling a little too fast. “Please.”

Kuroo didn’t waste another second.

He dipped his head down, nose brushing against the shell of Kei’s ear, and exhaled. His scent—dark chocolate, rich and musky, tinged with ocean breeze—rolled over them both in a heavy wave. Kei’s knees buckled slightly and he gripped Kuroo’s hoodie tightly for balance.

Kuroo’s lips ghosted the line of Kei’s jaw before pressing firmly against the warm skin of his neck, right over the scent gland. He rubbed his nose there, breathing deeply, releasing another pulse of pheromones directly onto Kei’s skin.

Kei gasped—quiet, startled, his fingers digging into Kuroo’s back. His own scent bloomed in response, strawberry and honey turning thick and heady, curling into Kuroo’s like ribbons in the air.

Kuroo’s hands roamed now, not rushed but needy—palms smoothing down Kei’s back, anchoring him close as he continued to scent, marking him thoroughly, reverently. His nose nuzzled lower, just beneath the collar, and Kei arched slightly into him with a soft whimper.

“You smell like mine again,” Kuroo whispered hoarsely against his skin. “Finally.”

Kei’s breath hitched, arms tightening around Kuroo’s shoulders. “I never stopped being.”

Kuroo’s chest constricted. That single sentence almost undid him.

He was just about to pull back, to kiss the top of Kei’s head—maybe to say something he wasn’t sure he had the right to say—when the front door creaked open behind them.

“Whoa—sorry, did I interrupt something?”

They both jumped apart like startled cats.

Akiteru blinked at them from the doorway, holding a cup of tea and wearing a smug grin. “Should I come back in five minutes or…?”

Kei’s face turned scarlet. “Aki—N-no! We were just—uh—talking!” Kei stammered, red in the face.

Kuroo cleared his throat, blushing furiously. “Hey, Aki-san. Long time no see.”

Akiteru grinned. “Sure looked like more than talking. But I won’t pry.” He winked. “It’s getting late, though. Kuroo, you should head home before the neighborhood aunties start gossiping.”

Kuroo rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding Akiteru’s gaze entirely. “Sorry, we were just—uh…”

Akiteru laughed. “I know what you were ‘just.’ I’m not blind. But maybe let the guy get inside before you devour him with pheromones?”

Kei buried his face in his hands.

Kuroo cleared his throat. "Right. I should go. We should hang out soon though."

Akiteru smirked. "I’ll hold you to that."

Kuroo cleared his throat again. “I—I should go.”

Akiteru grinned. “Yeah. Unless you want a sleepover. Which might require a parent permission slip.”

Kuroo laughed weakly. “Goodnight.”

Akiteru winked. “Night, Kuroo.”

“Night, Kuroo,” Kei said, cheeks burning.

As Kuroo turned and walked off down the quiet street, his heart still thudding in his chest, he lifted a hand to his face—and smiled. His scent still lingered all over his hands. All over Kei.

Inside the house, Kei leaned against the door, breath still uneven, scent rich and warm and tangled with Kuroo’s.

Later that night, lying in bed, Kei pressed his nose to Tobio’s jacket with one hand and clutched Yamaguchi’s plushie with the other.

But Kuroo’s scent was strongest.

And it lulled him to sleep with a smile.

Meanwhile, across town, Kuroo lay awake, replaying that almost-confession.

And wondering how much further things would have gone if the door hadn’t opened.

And how much further they wanted to go next time.

They both knew—something had shifted tonight.

And it wasn’t going back.

Chapter Text

Kei had barely stepped through the front door when Akiteru leaned over the staircase banister with a devilish grin, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.

"Have fun out there?" he asked, far too casually.

Kei scowled but didn’t answer, quickly kicking off his shoes. But there was no hiding it—not the flush in his cheeks, not the dazed softness in his gaze, and definitely not the musky scent clinging to every inch of his skin.

Akiteru sniffed once, dramatically. Then again, just to be sure.

"Well, well," he whistled low. "Somebody got thoroughly scented tonight."

Kei flung his bag at his brother. "Shut up."

Akiteru caught it effortlessly, laughing. “It’s like a chocolate ocean breeze exploded in the foyer.”

“I swear to God, Aki.”

“But it’s kinda sweet,” he teased. “You’re literally glowing. Floating. Like a freshly mated omega in a shoujo manga.”

Kei groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate you.”

"Love you too, kid," Akiteru chuckled as he ruffled Kei's hair on the way past. “Be careful with that heart of yours. And maybe lock the front door next time you decide to melt on the porch.”

Kei threw a pillow at his retreating back.

Meanwhile, across town, Kuroo stepped into his own home and was greeted by a chorus of accusations from his mother.

“You’re late,” she called from the kitchen. “And you reek.”

“I do not,” he muttered, toying with the hem of his hoodie.

She peeked her head around the corner, immediately narrowing her eyes. “Oh no, you absolutely do. Who is he?”

Kuroo froze. “What?”

“That omega scent isn’t from practice. It’s sweet and sticky and all over you,” she said, walking toward him with the satisfied grin of a mother who knew too much. “You’re glowing. Is it that boy? The one with the doll face you’ve been staring at like a kicked puppy all year?”

Kuroo groaned. “Can I go to my room now?”

"Don’t forget to hydrate," she called after him. “You’ll need your strength if you're going to keep scenting your boyfriend like that!”

His dad poked his head over a newspaper in the living room. “So... is it serious?”

Kuroo didn’t answer. He just buried his burning face in his hands and stomped upstairs, still smiling.

Up in their respective rooms, the teasing still fresh in their ears, both Kei and Kuroo lay in their beds—noses pressed into scented clothes, minds drifting.

Kei’s fingers grazed the plushie Yamaguchi had given him, tucked into his nest beside the jacket Tobio left behind. But it wasn’t Tobio’s earthy pine or Yama’s apples and blossoms that lingered strongest now.

It was Kuroo. Rich and dark and salty-sweet. Wrapped around him like a second skin.

He pressed the pillow tighter to his face, a small smile curling on his lips.

Kuroo's scent had overtaken everything—and he didn't want it any other way.

Across the city, Kuroo rolled onto his stomach, groaning into his sheets. Kei’s voice echoed in his head: “I want to fall asleep with your scent.”

He already had. And now, everything—Kei's flushed face, the way he’d trembled under Kuroo’s hands, the soft gasp against his neck—flooded back with unbearable intensity.

They were tangled in each other now. There was no going back.

Not that either of them wanted to.

Chapter Text

Kuroo couldn’t sleep.

He had showered, twice. Changed his shirt. Flipped the pillow over. Opened a window. Closed it. Kicked his blanket off. Pulled it back on.

None of it helped.

Because every time he closed his eyes, all he could see was Kei.

Standing in front of his porch, face tilted up, that moonlight-soft look in his eyes—half-lidded, flushed, breath shallow. The way his scent curled like honey and strawberries around Kuroo’s lungs, weaving straight into his bloodstream and igniting something deep, uncontrollable.

The memory was so sharp, it didn’t feel like memory at all. It felt like possession.

He’d touched Kei. Really touched him. His waist, his neck, the delicate slope where jaw met throat. The way Kei leaned into it. The sound he made—small, breathy, but not shy. More like… inviting.

God.

Kuroo rolled onto his back, covering his face with both hands. But it didn’t help. His body was already reacting—tightening, heating, hunger blooming low in his stomach and crawling downward like flame licking along dry wood.

The image wouldn't leave him.

Kei’s scent gland under his lips, warm and pulsing. Kei’s hands gripping at his hoodie like he might fall if Kuroo stopped. The soft noise he'd made when Kuroo's breath spilled over his neck.

He had wanted that.

Kuroo squeezed his eyes shut.

He hadn't let himself think about Kei like this before. Not like this.

Not about what his skin would taste like. Not about how far those strawberry-blushed thighs would open for him. Not about Kei panting his name against the pillow, needy and slick and desperate.

Kuroo groaned and pressed the heel of his hand against his eyes.

It wasn't just lust. That would’ve been easier. It was everything. The trust in Kei’s voice when he said please. The way he smelled like home. The ache Kuroo felt in his chest when he realized Kei hadn’t pulled away even once.

He wanted to protect him. He wanted to hold him. He wanted to ruin him gently—mark every inch of him with lips, tongue, teeth. Worship him like he was sacred.

He was so hard, it hurt.

It wasn’t going away anytime soon.

---

Across town, Kei was no better.

He lay curled in bed, face half-buried in Tobio’s jacket—but it wasn’t Tobio he was thinking about.

It was Kuroo.

The heat between them hadn’t faded, not even hours later. Kei could still feel the imprint of Kuroo’s hands—one on his waist, the other cradling his neck like he was something precious. That deep, raspy voice whispering “You’re giving me permission?” echoing in his ears like a fever dream.

He’d said yes.

And Kuroo had scented him. Slowly. Thoroughly. With trembling reverence that made Kei’s insides twist and flutter and ache.

No one had ever touched him like that. Like he mattered. Like he was wanted.

Kei had felt everything. Every breath. Every press of Kuroo’s lips to his neck. Every inch of his own skin lighting up like a live wire under Kuroo’s hands. His scent had bloomed so fast, so strong—it surprised even him.

It was still there. Still clinging to his sheets.

He shifted in bed, thighs pressing together, and let out a shaky breath.

It wasn’t enough.

He wanted more.

He wanted Kuroo’s weight over him, voice low and teasing. He wanted Kuroo’s fingers on his bare skin, his teeth at his throat, his breath hot in his ear. He wanted to be held down, kissed open, filled and full and helpless with need.

His body reacted before he could even think. His core pulsed, slick and aching, instinct driving his hand downward.

He bit his lip, stifling a gasp as his fingers slid lower, imagining they were Kuroo’s instead.

On the other side of the city, Kuroo shifted in his bed, panting softly, hips lifting into the air as his hand worked between his thighs, thoughts a blur of flushed skin and golden hair and the way Kei had whispered “I want to fall asleep with yours.”

Neither of them knew it—but they were mirroring each other.

Two threads pulled tight by memory and longing and something that felt far too close to love.

And in the morning, nothing would be quite the same.

Chapter Text

Kei woke up with the scent of dark chocolate and ocean breeze still clinging to his skin like a second layer. The sun hadn’t fully risen yet, just soft light spilling across his blanket. He lay there, eyes half-open, staring at the ceiling.

Kuroo’s scent hadn’t faded.

Kei’s fingers brushed the side of his neck, where Kuroo had pressed his mouth the night before. The memory was so vivid it made his skin tingle again. The firm press of Kuroo’s hand on his waist. The weight of his scent curling around them. The deep, unspoken want in his voice.

"You smell like mine again."

A shiver rippled down Kei’s spine.

He rolled over, face buried in the plush owl from Yamaguchi. The comforting apple blossom scent grounded him for a moment—but only barely. His body remembered too much. Kuroo’s hands, Kuroo’s mouth, the way his voice dipped into something rough and low.

Kei pressed his thighs together. It didn’t help.

His fingers drifted down to the hem of his shirt—Kuroo’s jacket lying on the chair across the room now forgotten. It was too hot. Everything was too hot.

He thought about how Kuroo had looked at him—eyes dark, like he wanted to devour him.

Kei bit his lip.

What would it feel like if Kuroo did more than scent him? If he kissed him? Touched him all over? If his mouth traveled lower? If those big hands slid under Kei’s shirt and just—

He whimpered softly.

His scent bloomed in the air, thick and honeyed, mixed with strawberry heat. His body ached, slick starting to gather from the thoughts alone.

Kei closed his eyes and let his imagination drift. Kuroo’s voice in his ear. Kuroo’s breath on his throat. Kuroo’s body pressing him down, hips aligned perfectly, slow and deep and deliberate.

He reached between his thighs, fingers gliding easily over his aching heat.

“I want to be yours,” he whispered into the pillow. “Please, Kuroo…”

His back arched as he slipped two fingers inside himself, slick and ready. His mind painted every touch as Kuroo’s—firm, slow, reverent. He imagined Kuroo whispering praise, kissing every inch of him, making him feel wanted, needed, completely unraveled.

Kei moaned into the pillow, body tightening with every thrust of his fingers.

He came with Kuroo’s name on his lips and fell back to slumber again.

-----

Later that morning, dressed and somewhat composed after having breakfast and enduring teasing remarks from his mother and brother, Kei sat on his bed, hugging his knees. His phone buzzed.

Kuroo: Morning. I keep thinking about last night. Hope I didn’t cross any lines.

Kei’s heart skipped.

Kei: You didn’t. I keep thinking about it too.

A pause.

Kuroo: I can still come over this weekend, right?

Kei: Only if you promise not to act like last night didn’t happen.

Kuroo: I promise.

Kei held the phone to his chest, a smile creeping onto his face. His cheeks flushed all over again.

He couldn’t wait to see him.

But this time, he knew—things were different now.

This wasn’t just childhood friends reconnecting.

This was want. This was heat. This was the beginning of something they’d been circling around for years.

And Kei was ready for it.

Chapter Text

Kei stretched under his blanket, long limbs tangled and warm. His nest still carried Kuroo’s scent—rich and smoky, dark chocolate laced with salt and sea. It coated him like a second skin.

He felt… calm. Soft. Almost high.

He touched his neck lazily, where Kuroo had nuzzled him last night—had scented him, possessive and careful, like he was something precious. His cheeks burned remembering it.

He hadn’t even washed it off.

Slowly, he sat up, blinking in the morning light. His fingers brushed over the edge of the hoodie still draped on his chair—Kuroo’s hoodie, technically—and he pressed it against his nose one more time, greedy and self-indulgent.

A knock on his door startled him. “Kei, breakfast,” Akiteru called out. “Mom made miso soup. Hurry or I’m stealing your rice.”

“Coming,” Kei muttered, trying to wipe the dreamy look off his face. He changed into a fresh shirt but didn’t bother trying to mask Kuroo’s scent. It was soaked into his skin. Into his hair. Into the soft cotton fibers of his soul, apparently.

When he entered the kitchen, it was like stepping into a trap.

Akiteru looked up from the table, spoon halfway to his mouth—and smirked. “Well, well.”

His mom turned too, then paused, nose twitching like a rabbit. “Oh.”

Kei froze.

“Oh,” she repeated, more knowingly now. “Is that Kuroo Tetsurou?”

“Mm,” Akiteru said, inhaling dramatically. “Musky. Dark chocolate. A hint of brine. You’ve been scented, baby brother.”

“Shut up,” Kei muttered, sliding into his seat, ears red. “I didn’t do anything.”

“Didn’t have to,” Akiteru said. “That smell is fresh. Like last night fresh.”

His mom chuckled, setting down a bowl of miso soup with a teasing smile. “So he finally caught you, huh? You’ve always been soft for that boy.”

Kei’s head thunked softly against the table.

“You used to talk about him all the time,” she continued, pouring tea. “Back in grade school. And when your letters kept getting returned, you cried in your nest, remember?”

“I did not,” Kei groaned.

“You did,” Akiteru chimed in gleefully. “You wouldn’t come out of your room for two days. Said if you ever saw Kuroo again, you’d punch him and never speak to him.”

“And now he’s scenting you like you’re his favorite dessert,” his mom added with a grin.

Kei glared at both of them, cheeks hot, but the corner of his lips twitched upward despite himself.

“I still might punch him,” he said flatly. “Later.”

Akiteru snorted. “Yeah, with your lips.”

“Shut up!”

Their mom just laughed and patted Kei’s hair, ruffling it affectionately. “Just be careful, sweetheart. First love is exciting, but it’s also tender. Don’t give it all away too fast.”

Kei blinked at her.

Then nodded, eyes a little softer. “I know.”

But still… when he glanced down at his hands, he could remember exactly how it felt when Kuroo held him close. When he scented him like Kei belonged to him.

Kei wasn’t sure what this feeling was, swelling quietly in his chest.

But he wanted more of it.

---

Kuroo woke up tangled in sheets that smelled like strawberries, honey, and desperation.

His desperation.

He groaned and flopped onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The scent still clung to his hoodie like a ghost—faint, but maddening. He didn’t even have to lift the fabric to his nose anymore. It was already embedded in his skin. Like Kei had carved himself into Kuroo’s very being just by leaning into him last night.

He could still feel the soft warmth of Kei’s back under his hands. The way Kei trembled slightly when he pressed his nose to his nape. The breathless, glazed look in Kei’s half-lidded eyes. The parted lips. The scent-heavy air around them.

Kuroo groaned louder this time and shoved a pillow over his face.

He was doomed.

He stumbled out of bed eventually, dragging himself to the kitchen in his pajama pants and hoodie, hair an unholy mess. He hadn’t even fully stepped in before his mother’s head snapped up from the stove.

“There he is,” she said with a raised brow. “Our little Casanova.”

“I didn’t do anything,” Kuroo mumbled, grabbing a glass of water.

“Really? Because this kitchen smells like teenage hormones and poor judgment,” she said, sniffing dramatically. “Still with the chocolate sea breeze—and now a bit of honey. Someone had a night.”

“Can we not?”

His dad peered around the corner with his newspaper, smirking. “It’s the same omega scent from yesterday. Stronger now. Persistent. Saturated. I’d say someone spent the night cuddling.”

Kuroo turned bright red and almost dropped the glass. “I didn’t cuddle anyone!”

“Your scent disagrees,” his mom said, leaning closer now, eyes narrowing. “Wait a minute…”

Kuroo paused mid-sip. “Oh no.”

Her face lit up with sudden recognition. “Oh my god. I know that scent. That’s Kei Tsukishima. From Sendai. The pretty one. The omega you used to follow around like a duckling when you were little.”

Kuroo choked. “What?!”

“Don’t what me! Blond, tall, kinda serious, doll face like an idol? You used to bring him home every other week before his family moved to Miyagi. You were inseparable. Always clinging to each other like a bonded pair. You cried for a week when they moved.”

His dad made a surprised sound. “Wait, that kid? The one you made a sandcastle with and cried about losing contact with?”

“Moooom!” Kuroo groaned. “Stop talking!”

“Oh, baby,” she laughed. “I knew that scent was familiar. It’s got that same honey-sweetness. Kei Tsukishima! Now it makes sense why you came home looking like someone just kissed your soul out of your body.”

“I hate this family,” Kuroo muttered, hiding his face in his hoodie.

His mom only grinned wider. “Aww, our baby is in love.”

“I’m not—”

“—Yet,” his dad interrupted, nodding solemnly. “But you will be. Look at him. He’s already planning the wedding in his head.”

“I will jump out the window,” Kuroo said.

“You’re not denying it,” his mom pointed out cheerfully. “Which means I’m right. And he scented you back, didn’t he?”

Kuroo blinked, stunned into silence.

Because… yeah. Kei had.

Subtle, but there. Sweet and lingering and intentional.

His mom must have seen the realization hit, because she gasped and clasped her hands like a delighted anime mom. “You’re nesting each other already?!”

“I AM LEAVING THIS HOUSE!” Kuroo shouted, grabbing toast and stumbling back toward the stairs.

“Text him you love him!” his mom yelled after him.

“USE PROTECTION!” his dad added helpfully.

“SHUT UP!”

He didn’t stop smiling the entire way back to his room.

Chapter Text

Something had shifted between them ever since that night.

Kei still hadn’t found the words to explain it. All he knew was that Kuroo’s scent had lingered long after they parted, that mix of dark chocolate and ocean breeze curling around his skin like a safety blanket. And Kei had let it. He hadn't washed it off. Hadn't wanted to.

Since then, their phones had practically become an extension of their hands.

They were always texting now. Kuroo would send him memes and blurry pictures of his cat. Kei would reply with dry comments that he never used to send anyone. They talked about school, practice, snacks, and what songs they were listening to. Nothing important, but everything personal. Their phones would buzz constantly, even during breaks between drills or long commutes home. They were always online for each other.

Kei didn’t think he was smiling more, but apparently he was, because people started noticing.

Nekoma’s team was the first to catch on. They weren’t subtle.

“Yo, Kuroo, you been looking at your phone like it’s your soulmate lately,” Yamamoto commented during practice, tossing him a towel. “What, your omega send you a poem or something?”

“Probably just sent him a strawberry emoji,” Lev chimed in brightly. “And Kuroo melted.”

Kuroo just smirked, didn’t deny a thing, and went right back to typing a reply.

When Kei got back to his classroom each day, it was the same. His classmates had started watching him more carefully, whispering when he checked his phone under his desk, peeking whenever he glanced toward the hallway before class.

There were even rumors flying again. Someone mentioned seeing Kuroo lingering by the stairs near the second-year hallway. Someone else said they saw Kei smiling into his hoodie during lunch, which was apparently scandalous. Another insisted they were just pheromone-linked after a volleyball accident which made Kei nearly choke on his water.

It didn’t help that the cafeteria turned into a stage for the next act of speculation.

Kei was sitting alone that day, poking around his tray, not particularly hungry. He was thinking about something Yamaguchi had told him the night before during one of their late-night calls, how Tobio had taken him out to a quiet café, paid for everything, then walked him home with their fingers brushing the whole way. Kei had just hummed at the time, playing it cool, but now… he couldn’t stop thinking about it. About how quiet and soft Yama’s voice had gone when he said, “It felt like being chosen. Like, really chosen.”

Kei stared blankly at his rice.

And that was when the entire room seemed to change, buzzing, rippling, like a current moving through a crowd.

He looked up and saw Kuroo.

With a tray in hand, confidence in his walk, and a faint blush on his cheeks, Kuroo was cutting through the cafeteria toward him like he had every right in the world to sit beside Kei Tsukishima.

Which, apparently, he thought he did.

“Yo,” Kuroo said, stopping beside his table. “Got room for one more?”

Kei blinked, clearly caught off guard. “You already sat down.”

Kuroo gave him a sheepish grin. “Fair. But I figured it’d be polite to ask first. Also…” He leaned in a little, lowering his voice as he rested his tray beside Kei’s. “You remember what you said the other night? About hanging out this weekend?”

Kei stiffened. His chopsticks paused halfway to his mouth.

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck, clearly trying to play it cool, but his ears were a little pink. “I know we haven’t really talked about it since… you know. But I was wondering if now was a good time to plan it. If that’s still something you want to do.”

Kei set his chopsticks down. “You want to talk about it. Here?”

Kuroo winced. “Okay, fair point, the whole cafeteria’s watching. But I didn’t want to wait anymore. And I also..” He looked away briefly. “I also really want to see you outside of school.”

Kei’s eyes softened just a little.

“Fine,” he said after a pause. “So. Plan?”

Kuroo’s smile widened with visible relief. “Okay, so I was thinking… I pick you up in the morning. We could go to that bookstore you mentioned before, the one near the station? Maybe grab some coffee after, something low-key. And then we can have lunch somewhere nice, doesn’t have to be fancy, just something you like.”

Kei tilted his head. “And then?”

“And then we go back to your place.” Kuroo’s tone lowered slightly, more cautious now. “Not for anything.. well, I mean, not unless you want to. Just to hang out. Watch a movie. Talk. Catch up. You know… just us.”

Kei looked down at his tray. The rice still untouched.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” he said softly.

Kuroo looked stunned for a half second before grinning. “Yeah?”

Kei gave him the smallest smirk. “Yeah. Pick me up at nine.”

“Got it.” Kuroo stood, still grinning like an idiot. “I’ll bring snacks.”

As he walked away, whispers erupted around them again, only louder this time. But Kei didn’t hear them. His heart was still thrumming in his chest.

Saturday was going to be something else.

The cafeteria incident, as it came to be called by half the student body, spread faster than an omega’s scent spike in heat week.

By the time Kei got to his next class, three different classmates had subtly asked him if he and Kuroo were “going steady,” and one bold girl asked if she could “just have some confirmation for peace of mind.”

Kei blinked at her, tilted his head ever so slightly, and replied with practiced calm, “We’re just making plans for the weekend. Is that a crime?”

She flushed, stammered, and backed off, clearly unsettled by his ability to completely shut the conversation down without even raising his voice. Kei hadn’t mastered many social maneuvers in life, but evasion was one of them and he was damn good at it.

He never outright denied anything. But he never confirmed it either.

Just enough to give people pause, enough to keep them guessing.

Still, it was exhausting.

He kept his cool, of course. Stayed expressionless, composed, even mildly amused when his classmates lingered in groups nearby, pretending to compare notes while throwing glances his way.

He ignored them.

Or tried to.

Because if Kei Tsukishima was ice water in a glass, Kuroo Tetsurou was a whole volcano running on espresso shots and endorphins.

Kuroo, unlike Kei, made no attempt to hide his glee.

Whenever someone from his class mentioned “that moment in the cafeteria” or teased, “You sure you weren’t on a date already?” he just grinned like someone handed him front-row tickets to the drama club’s juiciest performance.

He didn’t confirm anything.

He didn’t have to.

“Must’ve been some conversation,” one of his classmates said, trying to sound casual as they stretched in the hall between periods.

Kuroo just hummed. “Yeah. Weekend’s looking real nice.”

Another chimed in, smirking. “You’re glowing, Kuroo.”

He shrugged, slinging his bag over his shoulder with maddening smugness. “Am I?”

And when someone teased, “So what are you two, now?” Kuroo only tilted his head, blinked innocently, and said, “That’s a good question. You should keep watching and find out.”

If he were a cat, his tail would’ve been swishing with delight.

Meanwhile, the rest of the school was practically taking bets.

Some were convinced they were already a couple and just being secretive. Others were sure this was still a slow-burn situation, with both of them toeing the line. A few students from Class 1-C started an unofficial observation group, complete with doodled notes and predictions about when the two would finally hold hands in public.

Even some of the teachers gave side glances, though none said anything out loud. (Except for one older history teacher who muttered “About time those two figured it out” to herself during a faculty meeting.)

It didn’t help that the closer the weekend got, the more they both seemed... different.

Kei still looked the same on the outside, cool, distant, effortlessly unreadable. But those who paid close attention noticed the way his eyes softened slightly when Kuroo passed by in the hall. Or how he’d sometimes pause before replying to a message, his lips twitching like he was trying not to smile.

Kuroo, on the other hand, practically radiated smugness.

His walk had more bounce. His jokes were worse but delivered with more flair. His pheromones, already warm and strong, seemed to subtly spike every time Kei was in the same room, which only fanned the flames of gossip further.

By Friday afternoon, there was only one thing anyone could agree on:

Whatever was happening between Kuroo and Tsukishima, it was happening fast.

And no one in school was about to miss it.

-------

The front door clicked shut behind him with a soft thud, and Kei slipped off his shoes with more care than usual. His fingers lingered on the edge of the hallway cabinet. He didn’t know why he felt nervous, he wasn’t doing anything wrong. It was just a weekend hangout. A casual meet-up.

A long, casual meet-up with Kuroo.

Who he hadn’t spent this kind of time with since...

“Kei!” Akiteru’s voice echoed from the kitchen. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

Kei stepped into the room, trying to look normal. Calm. The usual expressionless version of himself. He pulled out a chair and sat across from his brother, who was lazily scrolling through something on his phone.

Their mom was at the stove, humming to herself as she plated up some grilled fish and tamagoyaki. The scent of soy and ginger filled the air, familiar and grounding. Home.

Kei cleared his throat.

His mom turned at once, eyes lighting up. “Welcome back, sweetheart.”

“Mm,” Kei muttered, nodding. “Hey… I wanted to ask something.”

That got both of their attention.

Akiteru looked up, one brow raised, already grinning. “Oh? Our famously independent Kei is asking for permission? This has to be good.”

Kei didn’t rise to the bait. He tugged at his sleeves. “It’s not a big deal. Just… I made plans. For the weekend.”

Akiteru smirked knowingly. “Let me guess. With a certain tall, spiky-haired alpha?”

Their mom gasped, her eyes wide with exaggerated delight. “Oh, is this about Kuroo-kun? You’re going out with him?”

Kei’s ears turned bright red. “Not like that.”

“Oh, sure, sure,” Akiteru drawled. “Just two childhood besties rekindling their bond in the city. Completely innocent.”

Kei sighed. “Can I finish?”

Their mom chuckled and set a bowl of miso soup in front of him before sitting down across the table, resting her chin on her palm. “Of course you can, sweetheart. What’s the plan?”

He focused on the rice in his bowl. “He’s picking me up in the morning. We’re thinking… maybe a bookstore, or a coffee shop. Then lunch somewhere. After that, we’ll come back here. Just to hang out. Watch something. Talk.”

“Maybe some more,” Akiteru added, doing air quotes with his chopsticks.

Kei scowled. “We’re not doing anything weird.”

“Oh, I didn’t say weird,” Aki replied, feigning innocence. “I said some more.” He wiggled his eyebrows dramatically.

Kei looked at his mom, desperate for some mercy. But she only laughed and reached out to pat his hand fondly.

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to act so guilty. I already told you, I like Kuroo-kun. He was a good boy even back then.”

She paused, then her eyes softened further. “Do you remember when we moved to Sendai? You were so small, but so stubborn. You begged me to take you to that jewelry shop near the station.”

Kei stiffened slightly, glancing up.

“You were so serious,” she continued, smiling at the memory. “You saved up your allowance. Marched in and picked out that little pendant by yourself. When I asked why, you said, ‘So Kuroo won’t forget me.’”

Akiteru burst out laughing. “Oh my god, that was so dramatic. You acted like you were going off to war.”

Kei groaned and buried his face in his hands. “Please stop.”

“I won’t!” Akiteru leaned closer, nudging him. “You even cried the first time his letters came back. You were like, ‘He forgot me. He really forgot me.’ And then you swore you’d never fall in love again.”

“I was seven,” Kei mumbled.

“And now here we are,” his mom said gently, her voice warm. “He didn’t forget you after all.”

Kei peeked through his fingers, face still hot. “Can we not turn this into a family romcom?”

His mom smiled. “Fine, fine. Just answer one question, darling.”

He nodded warily.

She tilted her head. “Do you need the house to yourselves?”

Kei choked on his tea. “What?!”

Akiteru howled with laughter. “Mom! You can’t just say that!”

“I’m just being supportive,” she replied, totally unfazed. “Teenagers get impulsive. Hormones happen. I’d rather be proactive.”

Kei stared at the ceiling like it could save him. “No. We don’t need the house to ourselves. It’s not like that.”

“For now,” Akiteru muttered under his breath.

Kei kicked him under the table.

Their mom finally relented, sipping her tea with a secretive little smile. “Alright, alright. I trust you. Just be careful, okay? I know you like to act all aloof and logical, but first love has a way of sneaking past even the sharpest minds.”

Kei’s expression softened despite himself.

“I know,” he said quietly. “I will.”

She reached over to tuck a bit of hair behind his ear and smiled. “Good. Then have fun. And maybe next time… invite him over properly. I’d like to actually talk to the boy you’ve been glowing about lately.”

“I don’t glow,” Kei grumbled.

“You do now,” Akiteru teased, reaching for more rice. “It’s like your whole face is permanently set to ‘sunrise over ocean breeze.’”

Kei didn’t answer but the faint blush that crept up his neck said enough.

------

The moment Kuroo stepped into the house, he could smell dinner already in the work, simmering garlic and soy, the sizzle of meat on the pan, and a faint undertone of roasted sesame. His mom was at the stove, humming along to a tune from the radio. His dad, dressed in a crisp white shirt and navy slacks, leaned casually against the kitchen island with a steaming mug of tea.

Kuroo had practiced what he was going to say on the walk home. It wasn’t that he was nervous, he just knew how quickly things could spiral in his household once certain names were mentioned. And the name he was about to say carried significant weight.

He kicked off his shoes, padded into the kitchen, and opened his mouth.

“Hey, so I was wondering if-”

“Yes,” his mom said, not even looking away from the pan.

Kuroo blinked. “Wait, what?”

“I said yes,” she repeated, stirring with a calm, confident flick of her wrist.

“I haven’t even said anything yet!”

“You were going to ask about going out with Kei this weekend,” she replied smoothly. “You don’t need to finish. The answer is still yes.”

Kuroo gawked. “How the hell do you do that?”

His mom finally turned to him, raising an eyebrow with the practiced expression of a seasoned alpha mom who had been three steps ahead of her son since he was in diapers. “Tetsurou. I’ve raised you for seventeen years. I knew the moment you came home scented a few nights ago.”

Kuroo’s ears turned red instantly.

“Of course I predicted this,” she said matter-of-factly. “Your entire room smelled like dark chocolate dipped in strawberry honey. I nearly got a cavity walking past your door. So I already knew you'd be asking him out."

“That’s so dramatic-”

“And don’t forget,” she added, crossing her arms, “I know that scent. Kei used to sleep over and hug you so tight in the summers that your shirts would smell like him for days. He might’ve been gone for years, but I haven’t forgotten him. So you shouldn’t have been surprised when I figured it out over breakfast the following day."

Kuroo mumbled something that vaguely sounded like “unfair advantage” as he slouched into a chair at the dining table.

His dad, looking up from the newspaper app on his phone, raised an eyebrow. “So, got a plan for the weekend?”

Kuroo perked up. “Yeah. I thought I’d pick him up in the morning, maybe take him to that new bookstore in Nakano? He likes quiet places. Then maybe hit that café next to the park. It’s supposed to be chill, good coffee. After that, I figured we’d grab lunch somewhere nice, something not school cafeteria-tier. Then back to his place to watch a movie and hang out.”

His dad nodded. “Sounds thoughtful. Smart pacing. Good variety.”

“I try,” Kuroo said, straightening up a little.

“Then I’ll expect to see a lower balance in your bank account,” his dad said casually.

Kuroo squinted. “What?”

“You heard me,” his dad replied, sipping his tea. “You have money. Use it. Spoil him. We’re not broke. There’s no need to hoard your allowance like it’s gold from a lost pirate ship.”

“But I’m just being smart with spending-”

“You’re being stingy,” his mom cut in, sliding plates onto the table. “You still have the birthday money from last year. Still in the little red envelope with the cat stickers.”

“...It’s a good envelope.”

“It’s dusty, Tetsurou.”

“I was waiting for something meaningful to spend it on!”

His mom gave him a look. “You just described a date with the person you’ve been mooning over since grade school. If this isn’t meaningful, I don’t know what is.”

Kuroo groaned dramatically and let his head fall against the back of the chair. “Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll spend the money. I’ll even add dessert.”

“Smart boy,” his dad said with a grin. “And remember, if I see the same balance in your account by Monday, your next two weeks of allowance are canceled.”

Kuroo scowled. “That’s financial coercion.”

“That’s called parenting,” his mom quipped. “Also, some advice for when you’re at Kei’s house…”

Kuroo perked up, but instantly regretted it when his mother leaned in with a narrowed gaze and a wagging wooden spoon.

“Be respectful. Be polite. Greet his mother properly. Compliment her cooking. Offer to help clean up. And above everything else…”

She poked the spoon at his forehead.

“Think with this head. Not the one in your pants.”

“MOM-!”

“I’m serious!” she said, unfazed by his horror. “If I find out you made Kei uncomfortable, even accidentally, I will ground you so hard you’ll forget what natural light feels like.”

“Mom, we’re just hanging out! He’s the one who invited me over!”

“I trust Kei. I trust you… a little.”

Kuroo groaned again, dragging his hands over his face. “Can’t I just be excited without you two turning it into a trial?”

His dad chuckled, adjusting his watch. “We’re just looking out for you, Tetsu. You clearly care a lot about him. And Kei’s important, to you and to us. We’ve missed having him around.”

“Which brings me to my last point,” his mom said, softening a bit as she handed him a drink. “Invite him over sometime soon. I want to see him again. Catch up. I have so many stories I’ve been meaning to tell him.”

“Don’t forget,” his dad added, “your mom talks about that boy more than she talks about you lately.”

“I do not-!”

“You do,” he said fondly. “And honestly, I wouldn’t mind a dinner where we don’t get into debates about whose turn it is to do the dishes. Kei’s always been a polite guest.”

“I’ll ask him,” Kuroo said, cheeks still burning but heart feeling undeniably warm.

His mom smiled. “Good. Now go wash your hands. Dinner’s almost ready.”

As Kuroo stood, he paused by the sink and stole a glance at his parents. They were relentless with their teasing but the love in their words, the way they lit up just at the mention of Kei, made something in his chest swell.

He couldn’t wait for the weekend.

--------

That night, after dinner and all the teasing from their families, both Kuroo and Kei retreated to the quiet safety of their bedrooms. The house lights dimmed, the evening settling into stillness but their screens lit up almost instantly.

[21:46] Kei: Got permission.

[21:46] Kei: My mom said yes right away… and then proceeded to make my life miserable with teasing.

The reply came almost instantly.

[21:47] Kuroo: Same here. I didn't even finish my sentence before my mom said yes.

[21:47] Kuroo: Then she threatened to ground me if I made you uncomfortable and accused me of hoarding my allowance.

Kei smiled at his screen, fingers hesitating over the next message.

[21:48] Kei: Sounds like our moms would get along scarily well.

[21:49] Kei: But I’m glad… I’m really looking forward to tomorrow.

[21:49] Kuroo: Me too.

[21:50] Kuroo: Can’t wait to hang out with you again, Kei.

Kei stared at that last message for a long moment, warmth blooming behind his ribs.

[21:51] Kei: Goodnight, Kuroo.

[21:52] Kuroo: Goodnight, Kei.

They stopped texting after that but neither of them was even remotely close to falling asleep.

---

At the Tsukishima Household, Kei lay in bed, eyes on the ceiling, the faint buzz of adrenaline still under his skin. The excitement had turned into a slow-rolling wave of nerves, crashing again and again into his stomach. His blanket was pulled up to his chin, and he could hear the tick of his clock echoing in the room. He turned over. And again. And again.

“Ugh,” he groaned into the pillow, dragging it over his head.

What was he supposed to wear?

Kei got up and padded over to his closet, flicking on the light with a sigh. Casual? Too casual? If he wore something too dressy, would it seem like he was trying too hard? What if Kuroo didn’t even notice?

He opened his drawer. Should he put on perfume? Or would that make it obvious that he was hoping Kuroo would get close enough to smell it? What if he overdid it and smelled like a department store?

And then came the real panic.

Once they got back to the house… was he going to invite Kuroo into his room? To hang out? To lounge?

He turned to look at his bed and instantly regretted it. It was neat and clean but undeniably Kei: there were dinosaur plushies tucked against the wall, and his bookcase held three neat rows of fossil guidebooks. Would Kuroo think he was childish?

Maybe he could distract him by pulling out his limited-edition dino figurines? Or maybe that would only confirm it.

And worse-

He remembered what he usually wore around the house: oversized T-shirts that fell to his thighs and super soft, wide-legged shorts that were barely visible under the hem. From a distance, it probably looked like he wasn’t wearing pants at all.

Kei froze.

“No no no no-”

He dove for his drawers and started rifling through, searching for anything else, a pair of joggers, maybe a loose hoodie that didn’t scream I’m trying to be cute. But there was nothing. He never expected Kuroo to actually visit his house again, much less hang out in his room. He never prepared for the possibility of needing to look presentable inside his own sanctuary.

“I’m so stupid,” Kei muttered, dragging a hand down his face as he sat back against the foot of the bed. “Why didn’t I think about this sooner…”

Finally, after twenty more minutes of silent spiraling, he gave up. He crawled back into bed, defeated, mentally telling himself he’d just deal with it tomorrow. And hope, pray, that Kuroo wouldn’t think less of him for looking like he was about to fall asleep during their hangout.

---

Meanwhile, Kuroo lay on his stomach, legs swinging off the side of the bed, phone long since abandoned on his nightstand. His face was buried in a pillow, his thoughts doing somersaults.

The weekend. It was really happening. After everything, after losing Kei, missing him for years, and finally finding him again, they were going on a real outing. A date, if he was bold enough to admit it.

Would it be okay if he held Kei’s hand while they walked through the bookstore? Or maybe while waiting in line at the café?

He groaned and rolled over. “Don’t be weird about it, Tetsurou. Just be cool…”

But then he thought about Kei’s scent. Sweet, soft strawberry honey that clung to him in the most addictive way. He still remembered that night so vividly. The way Kei had let him scent him, the look on his face, the way Kuroo had nearly said too much.

What if tomorrow… something similar happened again?

What if they were alone in Kei’s house, his room, and Kuroo accidentally leaked his pheromones?

What if Kei figured out how deep Kuroo’s feelings really went?

What if…

Kuroo shoved his face into the pillow and screamed silently.

He turned to his side, eyes wide in the dark.

“Am I allowed to scent him again…?”

Would Kei be okay with it? Would he lean in again, tilt his head in that soft, trusting way?

He bit his lip. “God, I’m doomed.”

Still, the thought made his chest swell and ache at the same time.

He was nervous, yeah, but more than that, he was… hopeful.

Even if he couldn’t sleep tonight. Even if he overthought every step. Tomorrow was still waiting. And Kei would be there. And that alone made all the butterflies worth it.

Chapter Text

The morning sunlight spilled like warm honey through the windows of two separate bedrooms. One quiet and meticulously clean, the other lived-in and slightly chaotic. The soft chirping of birds barely registered to either boy. Their minds were far too full.

Tsukishima Kei lay sprawled across his neatly made bed, arms covering his face as he let out a quiet groan. He'd been awake for over an hour. Not because of nerves, he told himself but because of strategy. Preparation.

His closet doors were wide open, and articles of clothing were strewn across the foot of his bed. He’d already rejected three potential outfits for being too serious, too sporty, or too something. The weight of today hung on his chest like the world’s heaviest libero.

He settled, finally, on something soft and simple: a cream-colored cardigan that fell just past his hips, sleeves loose around his wrists. Underneath it, a tucked-in gray tee that complemented the hue of his eyes. And then the jeans.

Kei eyed them warily. Dark-wash, high-waisted, hugging every long line of his legs and tapering down to his ankles. The fit wasn’t scandalous. Not tight enough to choke but snug enough to emphasize the gentle curve of his hips, the firm slope of his thighs, the soft but undeniably present plumpness of his butt.

He turned sideways in the mirror and frowned.

"It’s just jeans," he muttered. "He’s seen me in shorts. This is... tame."

Still, he tugged the hem of his cardigan lower and adjusted the neckline of his shirt. He didn’t want to seem like he was trying, even though he'd already brushed his hair twice, sprayed the faintest bit of scent behind his ears, and cleaned every corner of his room like a nervous hostess.

From the other side of town, Kuroo Tetsurou was already on the train, headphones in but no music playing. He was too busy running through every detail of their plans.

His outfit was carefully chosen, put together but relaxed. A charcoal black hoodie layered under a tan wool coat, the sleeves pushed just slightly to reveal his wrists. A slim silver chain peeked beneath the neckline of his hoodie with honey gold gem as pendant. Dark jeans cuffed just above polished sneakers made him look taller than he already was.

Sharp, handsome, a little cocky. Typical alpha energy but softened just enough by the way he kept checking his phone.

He didn’t want to be late.

When he finally arrived outside the Tsukishima residence, Kei was already at the door, standing a little awkwardly as he waited.

Kuroo’s breath caught for half a second.

The cardigan hugged Kei’s frame in a way that made him look simultaneously elegant and inviting. His jeans... damn those jeans... fit like they were custom-sewn by gods who’d decided it was time Kuroo suffer. His hips were so delicately emphasized, his legs long and graceful, and the gentle curve of his backside made Kuroo have to actively stop himself from staring.

I want to be reincarnated as those jeans, he thought with a grimace. Then, immediately: Get it together. It’s Kei. Don’t be gross. Keep it in your pants. Not literally. Well... yes, literally.

Kuroo forced a crooked grin as he approached. "Morning. You look... nice."

Kei tilted his head slightly. "Nice? That’s it? I spent almost an hour deciding on what to wear. I even tried three different shirts before giving up and digging this cardigan out of my storage drawer. The least you could do is be a little more descriptive."

Kuroo blinked, realizing his error with all the panic of a man who’d been caught in a trap of his own making.

"Descriptive, huh?" he murmured, dragging a hand through his hair and letting out a breath. He looked Kei up and down again, this time slower, taking in the gentle slouch of the cardigan that hung off Kei’s shoulders like it had been tailored for softness and allure. The cream fabric made his pale complexion glow, and the jeans... God, the jeans. They clung to his hips, hugged his thighs, and left nothing to the imagination when it came to how long his legs really were.

"You look…" Kuroo started, voice lower, throat suddenly dry. “...dangerous.”

Kei raised a brow, skeptical but intrigued. “Dangerous?”

Kuroo leaned forward a little, dropping his voice further as if worried someone might overhear. “Yeah. Like if we weren’t best friends and I didn’t respect you so much, I’d be on my knees already, thanking the gods for inventing denim.”

Kei choked on air, eyes wide as his mouth parted soundlessly for a moment. “Kuroo- !”

“I’m serious,” Kuroo grinned, cocky now that he’d gotten a reaction. “Those jeans are a threat to public safety. I almost tripped when I saw you. And that cardigan? You look like you stepped out of a lifestyle magazine. Or a dream. My dream. I mean... shit.”

Kei’s ears were a very flattering shade of pink now, and he turned his face slightly away. “You’re such an idiot.”

“An honest idiot,” Kuroo said brightly, as if that excused him from every inappropriate thought he’d had since seeing Kei.

Kei pressed his palm to his face in mock exasperation. “I should’ve just stayed in pajamas.”

“No,” Kuroo said immediately, almost too earnestly. “Absolutely not. You look…” He paused, letting his gaze sweep over Kei again with something softer this time. “You look like yourself. Like someone I’d chase to the ends of the earth just to get five minutes with. Elegant. Comfortable. Beautiful.”

Kei lowered his hand slowly, the teasing edge in his expression fading as something vulnerable surfaced in his eyes. "Tetsurou..."

There was a quiet moment between them. Charged. Tender. Not quite romantic, not quite platonic. Something suspended delicately in between.

Kuroo cleared his throat and abruptly looked away, rubbing the back of his neck. “Anyway. I brought you coffee. Your usual. And a cinnamon roll.”

Kei accepted the drink and pastry with a small smile, fingers brushing over Kuroo’s just a second longer than needed. “Thanks.”

“You ready to head out?” Kuroo asked, still studiously avoiding eye contact.

Kei nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go.”

As they stepped out into the early morning sun, side by side, their fingers hovered close, so close they could feel the warmth radiating off the other’s skin. Neither reached out just yet. But the space between them felt different now.

Like maybe it wouldn’t stay empty for long.

------

The bookstore was tucked into a quiet corner of the shopping district, its old wooden facade and climbing ivy giving it the kind of charm usually reserved for movie sets. Inside, it smelled of paper and faintly of dried flowers, the soft hum of piano music playing through discreet speakers near the corners. The morning sun filtered in through the high windows, turning the dust motes into gold.

Kuroo held the door open for Kei, who stepped in with quiet reverence. His eyes immediately scanned the shelves, the muscles in his shoulders relaxing as the familiar comfort of hardbound spines and organized genres wrapped around him like a blanket.

"So," Kuroo said as they moved further inside, voice low, respectful of the hush around them. "What kind of books are you into these days?"

Kei glanced at him, one brow arching. "You mean aside from paleontology journals and outdated biology textbooks I buy secondhand?"

Kuroo chuckled. "Yeah. I mean like... something for fun. Or do you only read things that sound like they require a degree to understand?"

Kei tilted his head slightly, a small smirk playing on his lips. "Says the guy who voluntarily reads volleyball theory essays on his phone at 2AM."

"Touché," Kuroo muttered, grinning. "But seriously. Favorite book genre?"

"Non-fiction," Kei replied simply. "Nature-based, mostly. Dinosaurs, ecosystems, evolution theory..." He paused in front of a shelf with an array of thick tomes, his fingers brushing the spines fondly. "There’s actually a book I’ve had my eye on for months now. It’s a newer edition of a dinosaur encyclopedia. Full color illustrations, updated classifications, fossil photos..."

"Sounds like your kind of heaven," Kuroo murmured, watching Kei light up.

Kei nodded. "It is. But it’s stupid expensive. So I’ve been saving my allowance and any tutoring money I get from helping underclassmen. Maybe next month I can finally buy it."

Kuroo opened his mouth to ask more, but Kei was already moving along the shelf, distracted by another title. They continued browsing quietly, occasionally holding up covers to silently judge each other’s tastes. Kuroo smirked when Kei wrinkled his nose at a cheesy romance paperback he held up, and Kei rolled his eyes when Kuroo picked up a crime thriller with a dramatic tagline.

After some time, they stepped out of the store, the weather having warmed just enough to make the air pleasant. Down the street, tucked between two boutiques, was a narrow cafe lined with flowering pots and soft outdoor lighting even in the daytime. The sign read Café Marigold, and the line of people outside said all that needed to be said about its reputation.

"This the place?" Kei asked, eyeing the length of the line.

Kuroo nodded. "Yeah. Heard they have great reviews. Quiet, good food, pretty aesthetic inside. Want to check it out?"

Kei gave a small nod, and they joined the line. After a few seconds, Kuroo turned to him. "Hey, mind waiting here for a sec? I need to check something real quick."

Kei blinked. "Sure. Where are you going?"

"Won't be long," Kuroo said, already backing away with a mysterious smile.

Kei watched him disappear into the bookstore again, confusion furrowing his brow. A few minutes passed. The line shuffled forward. Kei craned his neck to see if Kuroo was coming back. Just as he was starting to get impatient, he saw that familiar bedhead of black hair bouncing toward him, a small paper bag in hand.

Kuroo held it out without preamble. "Here. For you."

Kei stared at the bag, then up at him. "What is this?"

"Open it and see."

With a cautious frown, Kei pulled apart the folded top of the bag and peeked inside. Then froze. Slowly, almost reverently, he pulled out a thick, hardcover book with a glossy finish.

"Is this..." he breathed, running a hand over the cover. "Kuroo. This is the encyclopedia I was just talking about."

"Yup," Kuroo said casually, though his eyes were watching Kei intently.

"Are you insane? This thing is practically a small fortune!"

Kuroo grinned. "Relax. I’m a loaded seventeen-year-old alpha, remember?"

Kei frowned. "That doesn’t mean you should just buy things like this on impulse! I was going to get this myself. I’d been saving for it."

"Exactly," Kuroo said softly. "You wanted it. So I got it for you. It’s not just a present. It’s me saying... I listen. I notice. And I want to give you things that make you happy."

Kei looked at him, startled by the sincerity in his voice. He clutched the book to his chest, unsure of how to respond.

Kuroo tilted his head, smiling a little. "So... do I get a thank you or are you going to lecture me for being a reckless spender again?"

Kei sighed, but his expression softened. "Thank you, Tetsurou. Really."

Kuroo beamed. "You’re welcome. Now let’s get inside and order before your glare scares off all the other customers."

Kei rolled his eyes, but the smile tugging at his lips betrayed him. And as they stepped into the softly lit interior of Café Marigold, it already felt like the day was unfolding into something quietly unforgettable.

They reached the front counter of the café not long after. The aroma of roasted espresso beans, warm pastries, and fresh fruit hung in the air like a comforting cloud. Inside, the place was softly lit with honey-gold bulbs and delicate pendant lamps that danced above each table. The walls were lined with shelves of succulents, pressed flowers, and framed vintage prints. There was a small platform at the far end of the room, where a young man in a crisp white shirt played a gentle melody on a piano, the notes floating across the space like dandelions in the wind.

Kei stepped up to the glass display, peering in at the cakes and pastries with a composed but curious expression. His golden eyes scanned the options: cheesecake, matcha crepe rolls, tiramisu, and finally, a soft-looking slice of strawberry shortcake with thick layers of whipped cream and glistening, fresh-cut strawberries. His gaze lingered for barely a second, so quick, so subtle that no one would’ve noticed.

No one except Kuroo.

“What would you like?” Kuroo asked smoothly, stepping up beside him and pulling out his wallet.

Kei blinked, straightening slightly. “Ah, I’ll just get the chocolate chip overload frappe.”

“That’s it?” Kuroo tilted his head, a brow raised, voice light.

Kei nodded. “Yup. That’s plenty.”

“You sure?” Kuroo pressed, glancing toward the cake case.

“I’m sure,” Kei replied quickly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear. “Besides, you already bought me the book. I’m not gonna make you bankrupt on one weekend.”

Kuroo chuckled softly, but there was a flicker of understanding beneath his smirk. Kei was being considerate. He always was. Probably thinking he should limit how much Kuroo had to spend.

“Alright, Kei,” Kuroo said with mock surrender, “you go find us a seat. Somewhere nice, okay?”

Kei looked up at him, slightly suspicious, but nodded and wandered toward the seating area. Kuroo turned back to the cashier.

“One chocolate chip overload frappe” he began, “one hazelnut latte, one chicken salad sandwich… and the strawberry shortcake.”

The cashier smiled as she rang it all up. “Sweet date?”

Kuroo’s lips curled into a private grin. “The sweetest.”

By the time Kuroo finished paying, Kei had already found a perfect corner for them. It was tucked away beside a tall ficus tree, with cushioned seating along the wall and a clear view of the pianist. The sunlight filtered through gauzy curtains, casting soft shadows across Kei’s cardigan-covered shoulders.

He looked up as Kuroo approached and patted the space beside him, legs crossed neatly as he cradled the warm mug Kuroo had handed him earlier.

“This place is nice,” Kei said quietly, glancing around. “And the piano’s really calming.”

“I figured you’d like the atmosphere,” Kuroo replied, sitting down and setting the rest of their tray on the table. “Quiet. Subtle. Kinda classy.”

Kei smiled into his cup. “Thanks again for the book, by the way. I still can’t believe you got it. I’ve been staring at it on the online catalogue for weeks.”

“You said you were saving up for it,” Kuroo shrugged, casually sipping his latte. “Now you don’t have to.”

Kei leaned slightly closer, his tone warm. “Well, now I owe you something. Let me treat you next time.”

“Oh? There’s a next time already?” Kuroo teased, grinning.

Kei paused, blinked, and then rolled his eyes with a small huff. “You know what I mean.”

“I do,” Kuroo replied, smirking into his drink.

They talked idly while they waited, about the book, about recent matches, about Yaku yelling at Lev the other day for trying to spike with his eyes closed. Kei's features grew animated, his voice more expressive than usual, his excitement breaking through the usual veil of calm. Kuroo could only watch him in quiet awe, nodding along, soaking in the sound of Kei’s laughter.

When the barista finally called Kuroo’s name, he stood to grab their tray.

Kei’s eyes flickered curiously as he saw what was set down in front of him. Two drinks. A sandwich. And a very familiar slice of strawberry shortcake.

He blinked. “Wait. You.. how did you... ?”

“What?” Kuroo said innocently, setting the tray down.

“The cake. You ordered the shortcake.”

“Oh. That,” Kuroo said with an airy tone, plopping down beside him.

“You weren’t supposed to know I wanted that,” Kei muttered, cheeks faintly pink. “I didn’t even say it out loud.”

Kuroo leaned his cheek on one hand and smiled slyly. “Your eyes were on it for a second.”

“I just looked at it.”

“You stared. You were practically devouring it with your gaze.”

Kei opened his mouth, then closed it again, flustered. “You weren’t even looking.”

“I’m always looking at you,” Kuroo said easily, his voice dipping just a little lower. “So yeah, I noticed. I see everything, remember?”

Kei was quiet for a beat too long, his blush deepening as he picked up his fork and stabbed the cake without looking at Kuroo. “Stalker.”

“Devoted observer,” Kuroo corrected, grinning.

Kei took a bite and chewed slowly. “...It’s good.”

Kuroo’s chest warmed at the way his voice softened. “You deserve good things.”

Kei didn’t reply this time. He just nudged a piece of the cake toward Kuroo with the edge of his fork, silent, but unmistakably affectionate.

And Kuroo took it, letting the taste of strawberries melt into the background of something far sweeter.

Chapter Text

The afternoon sun was mellow and warm when they stepped out of the café, the wind carrying a faint breeze that tugged at Kei’s cardigan and tousled Kuroo’s already messy hair. The streets were busy but not loud, full of the soft chatter of passersby, the occasional bark of a dog, and the faint hum of traffic in the distance.

With no fixed plan, they simply began walking side by side, shoulders occasionally brushing as they drifted closer and then apart again in a rhythm neither of them really noticed.

They didn’t talk much, not in the way they did earlier. Now, the silence was comfortable, almost precious. They watched birds hop across pavement cracks, peeked into cute storefront windows, paused to admire a sculpture made entirely of painted bottle caps. Every so often, Kuroo would sneak a glance at Kei. At the way the sunlight lit up the golden strands in his hair, how his expression would change ever so slightly depending on what he was looking at.

Kei caught him once and raised a brow, but didn’t say anything. He just looked forward again, hiding a small smile.

Eventually, their wandering led them to the edge of a small park, its gates rust-red and wrapped with ivy. Just beside it was a quaint little museum with a vintage clock hanging over the entrance and a sign that read:

"Weekend Promo: Couples enter for FREE!"

“Oh?” Kuroo stopped walking, feigning curiosity with an exaggerated gasp. “Would you look at that.”

Kei tilted his head, already sensing danger. “Don’t even think about it.”

Kuroo turned to him, hands on his hips. “Kei, think about it. It’s fate.”

Kei narrowed his eyes. “It says couples. We’re not- ”

“Technically,” Kuroo interrupted, grinning, “it doesn’t say legal couples. Just couples. It’s all about presentation, Tsukki.”

Kei flushed. “Still. That’s not... what we are.”

“Yet,” Kuroo added smugly.

“I meant that we’re just hanging out,” Kei muttered, crossing his arms.

“Oh, absolutely. Just two friends on a suspiciously romantic outing. With cake, bookstore confessions, and longing glances.”

Kei stared at him flatly.

Kuroo leaned in a little, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Besides, if we don’t pay for museum tickets, that means we can spend more on lunch. You said not to go overboard with money, right? I’m being economically responsible for your sake.”

Kei opened his mouth, paused, frowned and sighed.

Kuroo leaned in just a bit. “No rebuttal? That’s a first.”

“Shut up,” Kei muttered.

“Is that a yes?”

Kei sighed and looked away. “...Fine. But only because it’s practical.”

Kuroo looked victorious. “That’s the spirit.”

He grabbed Kei gently by the wrist, tugging him toward the entrance, and Kei let himself be pulled along, muttering something under his breath about irresponsible alphas and manipulative budgeting logic.

The museum was small, nestled quietly between taller buildings like a secret garden. Inside, it was hushed and peaceful, filled with delicate lighting and polished wood floors that creaked softly under their steps. They moved from exhibit to exhibit, examining old paintings, strange abstract sculptures, and framed love letters from centuries past.

There was a room dedicated to antique photography, where Kei stood quietly for a long time, studying a photo of a soldier kissing someone goodbye on a foggy train platform. Kuroo stood beside him in silence, resisting the urge to reach out and tuck Kei’s hair behind his ear.

It was... intimate.

Not in a loud, overt way, but in a soft, soul-brushing sense.

They didn’t rush. They took their time, letting each space wash over them before moving on. By the time they stepped out into the golden afternoon light again, Kei’s cheeks were a little pink. Not from embarrassment, but from something quieter. Something like warmth.

“So,” Kuroo said, stretching his arms behind his back, “I think we earned lunch.”

Kei nodded. “Where to?”

"You'll see."

Soon they were seated in a cozy corner booth at a restaurant that looked like it had been plucked out of a whimsical food blog—wood-paneled walls, warm lighting, eclectic decor. A chalkboard sign near the entrance read in playful cursive: “Buy an entrée, get UNLIMITED desserts!”

Kei stared. “You absolute cheat.”

Kuroo smirked. “What?”

“You picked a place with unlimited desserts?”

“I merely guided us to a reputable establishment with a solid menu and bonus incentives,” he said casually, removing his coat and sliding into the booth.

“You’re a menace.”

“Correction,” Kuroo said, leaning forward, “I’m a strategic genius. You’re not a big eater, Tsukki, but when it comes to dessert…”

He looked pointedly at the dessert bar where cake, pudding, tarts, and chocolates lined the display like jewels.

“You become a blackhole.”

Kei blinked at him, a flush rising to his ears. “I do not- ”

“You absolutely do. I watched you inhale two slices of cake and panna cotta like they were nothing.”

Kei opened the menu, muttering under his breath. “You have a stupidly detailed memory.”

“I’m observant,” Kuroo replied smugly. “Especially when it comes to you.”

They both laughed, and for the first time that day, it felt like the awkward tension from the morning, the anticipation, the nerves had dissolved into something comfortable. Something natural.

They ordered: Kuroo chose a warm garlic-butter steak don and miso soup, while Kei settled on salmon teriyaki. As promised, they each made several trips to the dessert section. Kuroo kept encouraging Kei to try the crème brûlée. Kei argued that his dignity was already compromised.

It didn’t stop him from getting three mini cheesecakes in a row.

As Kuroo watched him eat, something in his chest softened again. The way Kei’s eyes lit up when he tasted something new, the way he took tiny, precise bites, neatly, with focus, like everything he did, felt almost too tender for him to handle.

If he could bottle this moment, he would.

And somewhere between the chocolate truffles and the soft jazz playing over the speakers, Kuroo realized that he was so far gone for this boy, there was no way back.

And somewhere between Kei’s third serving of panna cotta and Kuroo stealing a bite of his blueberry tart, that invisible distance between them shrank a little more.