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Kenma should’ve known better than to listen to Shouyou, but something about his puppy-dog eyes and relentless energy have always been hard for him to resist. That and the possibility of seeing him on the verge of kissing and punching Kageyama has always been amusing for Kenma to witness.
Still, when Shouyou suggests that Kenma tag along with him tonight, he should’ve asked more questions than, “What time?” because it’s landed him here, in the middle of a too-crowded, too-noisy club, glaring at his ex from across the room as he not-so-subtly flirts with anything that moves like they hadn’t just called it off a week ago.
Kenma hates the taste of alcohol but he’s knocking it back tonight because the burn it gives him down his throat is arguably more enjoyable than the bile threatening to rise up it. Maybe at some point, he’ll get what people call alcohol poisoning, and he can finally leave. Or maybe he can just sneak out right now while Shouyou is off somewhere doing God knows what with Kageyama. Probably fighting. They haven’t figured out they want to fuck each other yet.
At least people are leaving him alone. Some guy tries to touch his shoulder earlier, but he smartens up when Kenma shoots him a glance over his shoulder. But it’s annoying and pathetic that Sawatari gets to be happy when Kenma is still feeling the sting of his words.
What did he expect anyways? They’re different. They have always known that. It’s stupid for him to think that anyone would find his mood and temperament adorable forever. They always get bored with him and move on. There is no point in thinking anyone will love him as he is if there are people who are better, more interesting, prettier…
“If you look like this when you’re angry, I’m afraid of what would happen when you’re not.”
Kenma looks up from his empty glass to see that a man is now sitting next to him at the bar. He’s speechless for a moment, just taking him in. He has the most gorgeous gold eyes, mischievous like a cat, half-hidden by his bangs. His hair is a different creature altogether, black, wild, and tousled, like it has a mind of its own. Then there is the rest of him—one of his arms is covered in tattoos, all the way up to the side of his neck, and the other has only one black tattoo band around his bicep like a cuff. It’s no wonder that he’s only wearing a tank top to show off his skin. It’s almost obnoxious how hot he looks. His half-smile reflects the fact that he knows it too.
Kenma’s annoyed at how instantly attracted he is to him, knowing that nothing good can come from it. A guy like this can only break his heart after he’s used it. Kenma’s not looking for another round of that. Maybe the alcohol is finally kicking in though, so he can blame his lack of inhibition for his fleeting wishful thinking.
“I’m not in the mood to be flirted with.” Kenma says icily, turning away, hoping that the guy will get the hint.
He doesn’t. Or maybe he does and just doesn't care. Kenma sees his grin widen in his peripheral vision.
“I’m just stating a fact. Flirting implies a little bit of inflated flattery.”
Kenma rolls his eyes. Great. This guy isn’t going to give up. He probably enjoys the chase. That’s always the worst kind.
He chooses to stay quiet. He’ll lose his interest in Kenma soon enough anyways if he ignores him.
“So, was I right?” The man goes on, seemingly scooting closer to Kenma with his elbows on the bar counter. “You are angry about something?”
Kenma turns to look at him now, surprised to see that he looks genuinely curious. The smile is gone from his face, and his eyes are scanning Kenma’s, as though trying to read him. From here, Kenma sees a dangling silver earring from his ear like a pointed sword. It catches the strobe light of the club like a small diamond.
Kenma can hear the blood rushing in his ears even though the music is still too loud for comfort. Maybe the alcohol is working after all because the words slip out of his mouth before he can consider them, “My ex is here.”
The man raises his brows. He whistles sympathetically as he turns around towards the crowd.
“Which one?”
Kenma’s lost sight of him in the past few minutes, but he finds him easily enough.
“The one in the red shirt.” He nods his head in his direction.
The other man follows his gaze. “With the god-awful jeans?”
Kenma laughs. He hasn’t noticed, but he’s right. It isn’t his best look.
“Yeah.”
The other man smiles when he sees Kenma’s expression, looking pleased that he’s made him laugh.
“You can do better than him.” He arches his brows. “What? Don’t believe me?”
“You don’t even know me.” Kenma argues. “Besides, I don’t want him back. It’s just annoying to see his face. And he looks so damn happy.”
His stomach churns again uneasily like he’s going to throw up. He isn’t attributing his bad choices tonight on that. Well, not the drinks anyways.
The other man looks thoughtful for a moment, rubbing his chin like an old man with a beard instead of a young hot guy he clearly is. Then, he turns to Kenma again, his eyes glinting with delight. “Want to make him mad?”
“How?”
“Is he watching?”
Kenma lets his eyes avert subtly to Sawatari’s direction and sees that he’s still talking with his group of guys, but he’s casually looking over here, too, half-intrigued by Kenma’s new friend.
“Now he is.”
“Okay.” The man grins, a set of crescents marking the edges of his lips.
“What are you—”
He pulls Kenma’s chair so that they’re even closer together, their knees brushing against each other’s until Kenma’s are almost in between his legs, the man’s strong thighs on either side of him. He leans in, lips just a hair away from Kenma’s ear, and whispers, “Laugh like I said something funny.”
Kenma feels his heart racing, much much louder than the club’s awful music. He smells the liquor in his breath and his intoxicating cologne.
He’s charmed by him, he realizes. Charmed by his easy smile and ridiculously stupid hair. His strong arms that can probably snap him in half but have yet to touch him directly.
But Kenma’s really not in the mood to fall in love. This guy is ruining everything.
“Why don’t you actually try saying something funny?” He huffs, turning his face away so he doesn’t have to look into his eyes. At this distance, he’s afraid of what he would see, afraid maybe he would see him right back.
He thinks this would be enough to drive him away, but the man just tilts his head back and laugh, causing several heads to turn their way.
He grins at Kenma with child-like amusement, a picture so disorienting from his tough-guy exterior. “I was right. You’re cute when you’re mad.”
Kenma frowns, but he sees that Sawatari is clearly looking at them now, not trying to hide it any longer.
“Oh. I think it’s working.” He says, in disbelief that this guy’s plan actually has an effect.
“Oh?”
“Yeah. He’s growling a bit. And doing that thing when he pretends he doesn’t care but I can see the bulging vein in his forehead from here.” It pleases Kenma to know that he can annoy Sawatari too, but it sucks that he still knows him like this.
“Good.” The man is still smiling at Kenma. “Can I touch you?”
Is it just for this ruse? Well, it doesn’t hurt to make Sawatari more jealous right? Why can he flirt in front of Kenma and get away with it? Shouldn’t Kenma have some fun too?
“Sure.” Kenma doesn’t know what he’s going to do, but he doesn’t expect this—his large hands coming up towards Kenma’s face just to tuck the loose strands of hair behind his ears. His hair is growing quite long now, way past his shoulders with its blonde tips he’s too lazy to dye back. He has his hair in a low bun today, but there are some pieces that are too long to be tied back, so he lets them hang loosely to hide his field of vision. But with that one movement, the man has drawn back the curtains, as though wanting to see him more clearly.
The guy lets his hands fall down, but one of them trails from Kenma’s shoulders towards his own hand on the table, covering it as he caresses the back with his thumb. Kenma can barely see his own hand underneath his.
“Your hand is so warm.” Kenma looks down at where they’re connected, seeing the tattoos on the other’s skin.
He sees Kenma’s curious gaze and smiles. “You can touch them if you want.”
Kenma doesn’t want to remove his hand from underneath his, but he does anyways to reverse their position, letting his fingers graze over his skin, tracing the patterns of his tattoo like he wants to recreate them himself. From his wrist, there’s a constellation of circles and spheres, looking like something out of a chemistry textbook Kenma vaguely recognizes. The most impressive one is at the top of his biceps, extending into his shoulders, a picture of a tiger roaring, its fangs baring out.
Kenma wants to ask him many questions. Why did he do it? What did they mean? Did he have more tattoos anywhere else? But it’s this that comes out instead, “Did it hurt?”
The guy shakes his head. “Not really. Cost a fuck ton of money though.”
Kenma snorts. He can believe that. “They’re cool.”
“Yeah?” He arches one of his brows in surprise.
“Yeah.” Kenma nods. He thought this guy seems tough, but maybe that really just is how he wants to present himself. He doesn’t look so tough now under Kenma’s hands, his eyes so much softer.
“Is he still looking?”
Kenma almost forgets why they’re doing this. Almost forgets Sawatari altogether.
His eyes flicker over.
“Yes.”
The man grins now at his respond, leaning in closer.
“Want to really piss him off?” Kenma raises his own brows in question. “Let me kiss you.”
Kenma grips his bicep in his hand. He should’ve let go, but he held on tighter. What does that mean?
The man doesn’t object or yell out in pain. Instead, he looks thrilled, his eyes dancing over Kenma’s face.
“Here?” Kenma asks. His heart is racing again like he’s never kissed anyone before.
The man shrugs. “Here. Against the wall. Over there.” His head nods towards the corner of the room, his eyes still on Kenma. “Anywhere.”
“Now it just sounds like you want to kiss me.” Kenma tilts his head. “I thought you weren’t flirting.”
The guy laughs again, more sheepish this time because he’s been caught. “Can you blame me?”
Kenma knows he shouldn’t, knows it’s just part of his game, knows that once he’s gotten what he wanted he will just toss him aside like Sawatari and the others did, but he’s also beyond caring now. The man’s legs are still warm against Kenma’s own, his eyes looking at Kenma like he has never seen someone like him.
He’s just doing this to piss Sawatari off. He’s using this guy and he’s using Kenma right back. Equivalent exchange, right? He’s already hurting anyways. What’s one more time?
Kenma leans in and presses their lips together, swallowing his surprised gasp with his tongue. He feels the softness of the man’s invitation against his lips and opens up for him.
Kenma lets himself go in that moment, melting into him like this is the only way he will ever survive. He feels his hands in his hair and in the back of his neck and on his cheeks. And he kisses him and kisses him and kisses him until he can no longer breathe anymore. Even then, he leans in, tasting the sweetness of the liquor on his tongue, feeling the sting of his own lips as the stranger pulls with his teeth.
God, he has never been kissed like this and probably never will again.
Kenma breaks away first because as much as he thinks it will save him to kiss him forever, he still unfortunately needs air. How stupid is oxygen?
The guy’s face is as flushed as Kenma feels, his lips just as swollen and bruised. His eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wild. His hair is even messier thanks to Kenma’s own handiwork but he still looks ridiculously hot, ridiculously handsome like he’s Kenma’s drug-induced fever dream.
But his own lips are pulsing, his hair falling out of its bun. His hands still warm underneath the other’s calloused fingertips.
“Goddamn.” The other man breathes out, his fingers running through his hair as he tries to compose himself. “He’s an idiot. I mean, he already looks stupid but he’s such a fool.”
Kenma laughs at his expression, amused and pleased that he has that effect on him too. Well, maybe it’s not for nothing to come out with Shouyou tonight. He got a great make-out session and some new materials for his late-night fantasies.
He looks over, but it’s now that he sees Sawatari is no longer standing with his friends. He can’t spot him again in this sea of people.
“He’s gone.”
“Oh good. I—” The guy catches something behind Kenma’s shoulders. He turns to see someone waving at him, a tall guy with spiky silver and black hair. He groans, smiling apologetically. “Ugh I have to go.”
Kenma feels his chest deflating. He knew it was coming, but yet he let himself hope for a moment. He shouldn’t feel as disappointed as he does right now.
The guy gets off his stool, but as he pats himself down, he frowns. “Can I borrow your phone for a minute? I think I misplaced mine.”
“Sure.” Kenma unlocks his phone and opens up the screen towards him.
The man types his number in. A second later, his phone flashes in the pocket of his jeans.
He grins broadly as he pulls it out. “Here it is. Well, now I guess you have my number.” He hands Kenma’s phone back to him.
Kenma looks at his phone and then at the other phone in the guy’s hand. He stares down at his screen, seeing that he’s saved his number along with his name.
“How convenient.” He looks up, understanding. He doesn’t know if he’s more annoyed or impressed by his antics.
The guy winks at Kenma. “If you have more needs to piss off your ex-boyfriend. Or you know, if you want to hang out sometimes, you know how to reach me. I can do more than kiss.”
He starts to walk away, but Kenma reaches out to the hem of his shirt almost by instinct.
“Does this normally work on people?” Am I just one of your toys?
The guy stops to look at Kenma again, his smile softer now. “Haven’t tried it on anyone yet, so you’re going to have to tell me.”
Kenma scans his face, looking for the usual callousness of the boys who have always broken his heart. He thought he’s seen it in him too but…
“I’ll think about it.” He squints at the name he’s saved on his phone. “Kuro.”
Kuro flashes him another smile, his large hand reaching out once again to pat Kenma’s hand, so warm and protective. Kenma can see his muscles moving under the tattoos.
“God, you really are adorable. Get home safe, um…” He trails off, brows furrowing together.
“Kenma.”
“Kenma.” He smiles again. He removes his hand to wave at him. “Bye.”
Kenma watches him go, his black shirt and hair disappearing into the crowd even though his presence never feels like it. Later that night, when Kenma finally lies in his own bed in the dark, he stares at the new contact information on his phone until the light hurts his eyes.
He’s about to give in to his headache and brewing hangover when his screen brightens even more, almost blinding him. He’s always heard that he should never text or call right away after a date. It shows that you’re desperate, that you’re too much. Not that he ever feels that much about someone anyways that he would want to, but he had thought about it for a moment with Kuro. Turns out, people lie. Or maybe they just don’t understand. When Kenma sees his message, he wants nothing more than just to reply to him. Right away. Now. The sooner the better.
Hi, Kuro has typed. Can I see you again?