Work Text:
THE TRAGEDY OF HAVING A SORE THROAT DURING PARTY SEASON: A SHORT COMMENTARY ON BUBBLE TEA APOLOGISTS
by Iwaizumi Hajime
DOES ANYONE REMEMBER AT THE START OF THIS TERM WHEN I SAID THAT THERE IS A REASON THE ONLY CAFÉ THAT I CHOOSE TO FREQUENT IS LE PETIT LOZENGE? CONSIDERING TODAY'S EVENTS, I SUPPOSE I COULD TECHNICALLY SAY THAT THERE IS MORE THAN ONE REASON BEHIND THIS, BUT AGAIN, CONSIDERING TODAY'S EVENTS, WHICH ARE MOSTLY RELATED TO THE STUNNING MEDIOCRITY OF OTHER SERVICE PROVIDERS IN THE DOMAIN OF THE CULINARY ON THIS CAMPUS, I COULD STILL JUST SAY THAT IT'S ONE BIG REASON. I MEAN, THE CULINARY DOMAIN MEDIOCRITY. I MEAN TO SAY THAT LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE KNOWS HOW TO MAKE FOOD. EXCEPT SAWAMURA.
ALL RIGHT, BACKTRACK A LITTLE. WHAT WAS I DOING AT A BUBBLE TEA CAFÉ? AND INDEED, IF I WISHED TO CONSUME BUBBLE TEA, WHY DID I NOT DO SO AT KUROO'S DAMN CAFÉ? AND INDEED, WHY DID I WISH TO CONSUME BUBBLE TEA IN THE FIRST PLACE? THE ANSWER TO ALL OF THESE QUESTIONS IS OIKAWA TOORU. I THINK IT'S RATHER FITTING, ACTUALLY, THAT Gecko Tooru HAS THE ANSWER TO EVERYTHING, AND OIKAWA TOORU IS THE ANSWER TO EVERYTHING. IT'S KIND OF LIKE Gecko Tooru IS PRESENTING OIKAWA TO THE WORLD LIKE "HERE, HE WILL MAKE ALL OF THE PROBLEMS FOR YOU." AND I MEAN MY LIFE HAS A LOT OF PROBLEMS SO I GUESS WE CAN SAY THAT OIKAWA MAKES UP A BIG PART OF MY LIFE. BUT LIKE, PROBLEMATICALLY. [Editor's note: This was followed by a two-paragraph defence that went weird places. Suffice it to say this article is slightly abridged.]
SO THIS IS JUST AFTER CHRISTMAS, RIGHT. I AM CURRENTLY WRITING FROM MY BED. MY BODY STILL BEARS THE MARK OF MY GRAVE MISTAKE, AS DOES OIKAWA'S WHITE SHIRT, WHICH IS NOT SO WHITE ANYMORE. BECAUSE OF A LOT OF REASONS, THE PRIMARY ONE BEING THAT I SPIT ON IT.
ALL RIGHT, BACKTRACK A LITTLE. JUST BEFORE CHRISTMAS, I RECEIVED A TEXT FROM OIKAWA TOORU.
Oikawa Tooru [03:09]
THERE'S A NEW BOBA PLACE ON CAMPUS IWA-CHAN WE HAVE TO GO
Me [03:11]
is thsi fucking the time to be texting about ANYTHING
Me [03:14]
what is boba
THAT, AS YOU CAN SEE, DEAR READERS, WAS MY FIRST MISTAKE. I ALWAYS BELIEVE, AND THINK THAT OTHERS SHOULD BELIEVE, THAT IGNORANCE IS BLISS. I MEAN, IF YOU DON'T KNOW ABOUT SOMETHING AND YOUR LIFE IS GOING JUST FINE, WHAT'S THE USE OF FINDING IT OUT? ARE YOU WILLING TO OBTAIN NEW INFORMATION AT THE RISK OF YOUR LIFE ACTUALLY TAKING A TURN FOR THE WORSE? THE EXCHANGE OF KNOWLEDGE IS A DELICATE AND TRICKY TRADE AND YOU NEVER KNOW WHEN IT WILL COME BACK TO BITE YOU IN THE ASS. EXCEPT I KNEW. I KNEW EXACTLY WHEN IT WOULD COME BACK TO BITE ME IN THE ASS.
Oikawa Tooru [03:20]
SO. At four tomorrow, IT'S A DATE
IT WASN'T. LET ME TELL YOU, DEAR READERS, THAT IT WAS ABSOLUTELY NOT A DATE. I AM A POSITIVE PERSON AND LIKE TO BE THANKFUL FOR WHAT WE HAVE, LIKE OPPOSABLE THUMBS AND SUGAWARA KOUSHI. I HAVE SOME POSITIVE EXPECTATION FROM DATES. AND I DO NOT COUNT ME SPITTING ON MY DATE'S SHIRT AS A DATE. WHICH IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENED.
WHY DID I SPIT ON MY DATE'S SHIRT? THE ANSWER TO THAT, MUCH LIKE THE ANSWER TO ALL OTHER THINGS, IS OIKAWA TOORU. FOR EXAMPLE, THE ANSWER TO THE QUESTION "WHO WAS MY DATE?" IS ALSO OIKAWA TOORU. THE ANSWER TO "WHO IS THE ANTICHRIST?" IS ALSO OIKAWA TOORU.
THE FACT IS THAT I, NOT KNOWING OF THE EXISTENCE OF BOBA BEFORE THIS HORRID OCCASION, HAD NATURALLY NOT TRIED IT EITHER. AND UPON LEARNING OF THE...SQUISHY NATURE OF THESE LITTLE ITEMS, I HAD LITTLE TO NO DESIRE TO PUT ONE IN MY MOUTH. THIS, HOWEVER, WAS COMPLETELY LOST ON OIKAWA, WHO INSISTED THAT I TRY THE BOBA BECAUSE, AND I QUOTE, "❀It's so good, I'm gonna cry!❀"
"I DO NOT WISH TO TRY THE BOBA."
"❀You really have to! Just one sip! It's like...chewy peas!❀"
"I DO NOT WISH TO TRY THE BOBA."
"❀Tough shit, you're trying it anyway.❀"
AND THEN, READERS, I SHIT YOU NOT HE JUST SHOVED THE DRINK INTO MY FACE. I MEAN TO SAY THE GIGANTIC FREUDIAN FANTASY OF A STRAW WENT RIGHT INTO MY MOUTH AND THE HARRIED HAJIME TOOK ONE INHALE, AND THE INHALE CONSISTED OF AIR, PEACH TEA, TAPIOCA, AND REGRETS. MOSTLY TAPIOCA AND REGRETS. OF WHICH THE TAPIOCA, HAVING ZOOMED INTO MY MOUTH AT THE SPEED OF LIGHT, GOT STUCK IN MY THROAT WHILE THE REGRET WENT STRAIGHT TO THE STERNUM.
AM I SO MUCH TO BLAME, THEN, FOR SPITTING OUT MY MOUTHFUL OF VIOLENTLY ORANGE PEACH TEA ONTO OIKAWA'S PREVIOUSLY WHITE SHIRT? I DO NOT THINK I AM. AM I ALSO SO MUCH TO BLAME FOR RUINING WHAT WAS APPARENTLY A "BUBBLE TEA DATE"? I DO NOT THINK I AM.
ON THE OTHER HAND, THE PEACH FLAVOUR WASN'T HALF BAD. IN RETROSPECT I DO NOT KNOW IF I AM MORE HORRIFIED AT THE MEMORY OF THE TAPIOCA OR AT THE CONCEPT THAT OIKAWA TOORU HAS GOOD TASTE. [Editor's note: It's fucking peach tea. It's not revolutionary. Also, our apologies for this entire article which isn't as much of a review as a prelude to one. Uh, Merry Christmas?]
●●●
Kei doesn't like blackberries, or anything to do with them. He absolutely hates the sight, the smell, and, with a terrifying thoroughness that takes him to nausea without fail— the taste. He hates them by themselves, or in spreads, or in muffins, or milkshakes, or ice cream. He hates the absurdly rich flavour, the way they leave stains on everything, the dark colour of them.
The house he grew up in has always been too large for just him and Akiteru, but they've always managed. Managing is close enough to compromise that Kei doesn't feel like explaining it to anyone, including himself, but the truth of it lies in every extra pair of pillowcases that they've laundered for no reason at all, keeping more rooms open and clean and in use as if there would be anyone around to use them.
'Any cranky professors?' Akiteru asks.
Kei looks up from the onions he is chopping, and fixes his gaze on a spot on the wall decidedly a foot to the left of Akiteru's head.
'Yeah, some,' he says. He's too disinclined towards bleeding over the chopping board to move his knife without looking at it, but also too disinclined towards looking at Akiteru to do anything else. Against his will his hand starts moving again, a little slower.
'Eyes on the knife, please, Kei.'
There are often times when the things Kei wants to say— no, that's wrong. The sentiment of wanting to say something, whether he knows what that something is or not, sometimes rises up in his throat at the same time that he takes a hiccuped inhale to calm it. The meeting is ugly and hurts his chest, but the only thing he has ever known how to do around Akiteru is keep a straight face, so he does it.
Still, the urge to bring the knife down loud enough to startle his brother is embarrassing. Tadashi was right; he's eighteen, he has to act like it.
'And work?' he asks in turn. He wants to ask a follow-up but he's never had enough information to follow up on. 'Uh, how's work?'
'Work is good.'
'Right.' Right. Work is good.
●●●
It is a truth universally acknowledged, that if you raise your voice around Azumane Asahi, he will start to stutter and cry. In fact, Kenma knows for sure that the same rule applies to Yachi Hitoka; he has come close to seeing it in action upon a previous occasion that still vaguely haunts his memory when he has the time to think about it.
At any rate, what puzzles Kenma a little is the slight contradiction that he can see unfolding in front of him in this particular moment. If it is a truth universally acknowledged that shouting equals a crying Asahi, he doesn't quite understand why Tanaka Ryuunosuke is not privy to it. He hardly believes that this terrifying fellow second-year is not a part of the universe where this truth is acknowledged, which can only mean that he is either entirely inconsiderate, or entirely—
'Okay, who let him near the vodka?' Sugawara calls over his shoulder.
For all that the simple truth of Kenma's life is that he is stellar at observation and not interested in much else, he feels like he has missed the exact connecting click between what was happening at the New Year's Eve party five minutes ago and what is happening at the New Year's Eve party now. What is especially confusing is that this is Sugawara and Sawamura's house, where such things do not usually happen.
Me [21:31]
tanaka ryuunosuke is ur volleyball teammate, right
Me [21:31]
and nishinoya yuu
Shouyou [21:31]
yeah!!! are they at the party too??
Me [21:33]
VID_202.MP4
Me [21:34]
i guess u could say that.
Shouyou [21:40]
Holy shit.
Kenma, in general, is not fond of parties. This does not go to say that he cannot even bear to be present at one every once in a while, but it definitely means that he tends to miss out a lot on whatever little interactions and dynamics seem to shift when the atmosphere shifts from a calm group lunch to the kind of mess that can only occur when a large quantity of six foot something twenty-year-olds consumes large quantities of alcohol. He chooses only about five parties a year, and prefers to attend those only if he can find a couch to sit on and watch everyone from. And good food. Good food is definitely a priority.
Which is exactly why he accepted Sugawara's invitation to join the party he and Sawamura had in mind for New Year's Eve. Kenma likes Sugawara because he likes everyone who, as Kuroo puts it, leaves him the fuck alone. He likes it even more when there are people who do it without walking on eggshells, and Sugawara is definitely one of those. He has come by two or three times so far, just to refill Kenma's juice and ask if he wants more food, and nothing else. Nothing could be more perfect.
Well, at least, nothing could be more perfect about five minutes ago. Now, Kenma finds that the party is severely lacking perfection in some areas, none of which are related to Sugawara's management— if anything, it looks exactly like the kind of situation that is happening because someone, somewhere in the chain of command, did not listen to Sugawara. Kenma knows the feeling; growing up with Kuroo and Bokuto brings a lot of moments like this one.
'Was it you? Oikawa, was it you?' Sugawara snaps, and Kenma immediately turns to catch the look of shame on Oikawa's face before it vanishes. 'You had one job.'
'Okay, but have you seen his guns?' Oikawa makes a grand gesture towards Tanaka's, well, guns, which are particularly prominent right now as he struggles against Sawamura and Sugawara's grips. 'You think I want to die this young? He asked me thrice, I gave in.'
'NO, NO, MATE,' Tanaka is shrieking. He heaves forward again, eyes wild, mohawk flopping, painting the most amazing picture of intoxicated ridiculousness that Kenma has seen since the time Bokuto downed five shots in forty seconds and spent the rest of the evening thoroughly convinced that he had hallucinated the entirety of Naruto Shippuden. 'YOU LISTEN TO ME, MATE.' He points a finger at Asahi, who is painting the most amazing picture of sober terror that Kenma has seen since the time Kuroo had to convince Bokuto that Naruto was very much a real cultural phenomenon.
'He's listening,' Sawamura says.
'YOU TOUCH MY PROPERTY,' Tanaka screeches, jabbing at his own chest, briefly at Nishinoya's, and then at Asahi's, 'AND I WILL TOUCH YOUR KIDNEY.'
As far as threats go, Kenma is reasonably sure that he has heard worse and better, both. However, seeing the look on Asahi's face, which Kenma reads as belated regret for having said something...anything, to Nishinoya, he can assume that Asahi has never been threatened in his life.
'Ryuu, come on,' Nishinoya says from beside Asahi, absolutely oblivious to the fact that the very tall man beside him is about to pass out. (It gives Kenma a déjà vu until he remembers that Nishinoya did pretty much the same thing with Yachi.) 'I'm the one who asked him to dance.'
'BUT HE SAID YES.'
'Because I asked him.'
Me [21:45]
is it too late to take the train to ur place
Shouyou [21:47]
i'm sorry kenma but you are stuck there because you have to film that for us. tobio is literally crying bc he's missing it
Shouyou [21:48]
i mean and also bc he's piss drunk, but u know
Me [21:48]
(๑•﹏•)
●●●
Strawberries and raspberries, on the other hand, are perfectly fine. He carries a deeper adoration for them, in fact, than he does for anything else in life. He likes how they can almost never be counted on to be sweet— never sickly sweet, at least— and how unapologetically red they are, bright and childish.
Tadashi [23:21]
you will not believe what is happening here
Me [23:22]
Videos. Don't forget videos.
Tadashi [23:26]
VID_075.MP4
Me [23:28]
Holy shit. Why are you and Kageyama so useless without me?
When Kei was ten years old, his— and Akiteru's— parents took the car out for a day trip. He can't exactly say that they never came back, but it's more that they didn't come back in the way they were expected to. Nor did the car, for that matter.
Another thing— Kei has never really blamed Akiteru for his hatred of blackberries. Actually, Kei has never really blamed Akiteru for anything, which might be one of the only things he did right when it comes to Akiteru. That, and packing him off to university and only speaking to him once a month. What Kei's hatred of blackberries always reminds him of, though, is that none of that ever helped in easing it. It, the bleakly underwhelming, stone-still, quiet fact of it, a guilt stronger than anything else in life. He's eighteen; he should act like it— it's difficult to own up, but he knows now more than ever that giving up his childhood in an attempt to compensate for Akiteru's did nothing for either of them. It's embarrassing.
'Since when did you start eating the peppers?'
Kei looks up, his biteful slipping from his chopsticks. Akiteru has an amused quirk to his lips, eyebrows furrowed as he looks at Kei's plate. It's true; the peppers he usually lines up by the side are still in, and he's been eating them.
'Maybe you finally learned how to cook them,' he says before he can stop himself, and immediately turns back to his phone, because he doesn't recall the last time he couldn't stop himself when it came to Akiteru.
The silence before Akiteru's laugh is long enough for Kei to have considered leaving the house thrice, and the laugh isn't exactly worth it, but it's a laugh; it's more than they've had for years.
●●●
It takes quite a while for Asahi and anyone present at the venue with a modicum of human compassion— which basically excludes Oikawa, Sawamura, Count Dracula (who is not technically human) and Tanaka himself— to recover from Tanaka's misguided attempt to protect Nishinoya. Kenma actually understands much better now why Tanaka was previously unaware of Asahi's important requirement to never be yelled at: if the man suspected Asahi of having any intentions but the purest towards Nishinoya, it is clear that he does not know Asahi at all. Kenma supposes that makes his actions become five percent forgivable.
The peace of the party has been restored, or at least, what counts as peace at one of these parties, especially considering that it is also Sawamura’s birthday. The lights are down low, couches and chairs all pushed to the walls to transform the small living room to a less-small dance floor, with what is probably Bokuto's only useful possession after his camera— a set of speakers that can only be described as wicked, even in Kenma's words. He might not be the biggest fan of the music coming from them, but he does enjoy seeing his friends have a good time with it.
It isn't that Kenma feels out of place; if he did, he wouldn't be here. He knows most of these people well, enough to want to welcome the new year with them in person instead of just texting them at midnight. It is perhaps that in the past few months, he has been spending so much time with the freshmen that he feels like he might have a few missing links when it comes to what his older friends have been up to. It doesn't bother him; it'll take him a few hours at the most to regain the rhythm of their exchanges. But in regaining the rhythm, he is definitely going to miss out on the amusement factor. For example, at the moment, he is so busy trying to figure out how two presumably grown men are discussing hair drying decisions, that he cannot appreciate the humour behind it.
'No, I'm actually serious,' Sugawara is saying. 'I heard this infernal buzzing from the corridor, and I told myself that it couldn't be. But it really was. He was really out there at one in the morning—'
'Sawamura's hair is literally carpet level,' Bokuto says. 'He doesn't need a fucking hairdryer.'
'And yet,' Sugawara replies.
Kenma rolls his eyes and turns back to his phone. His lock screen is a selfie that Shouyou took the first day he got the FREE HUGS shirt. His grin is, as usual, beatific, the apples of his cheeks pink in the chill of winter. Kenma can count the number of times he's been genuinely surprised in life on one hand, but one of those is definitely the first time he touched Hinata's cheeks (at the other boy's determined command). They were...soft. So soft, in fact, that Kenma had sincerely asked him what he ate for them to be that way. Tsukishima had nearly choked on his coffee and, after swallowing, let out a laugh that still makes Kenma fear for Kuroo's health.
Speaking of Kuroo, the next conversation Kenma manages to zoom into is one between him, Sawamura, and Ushijima, which is already a terrible combination to begin with. Not that Kenma does not appreciate the heartwarming friendship that the third-year boys share with each other (again, if he did not, he wouldn't be here) but he does have his reservations of very specific subjects from that group speaking with each other after a certain point in the day and scale of alcohol consumption. Kuroo chooses to go all out on the alcohol only on two planned occasions a year— the end of the academic term, and New Year's Eve. (There are other unplanned ones, but those are both on the list of Things That Fuck All Of Bokuto's Shit Up and Things That Kenma Does Not Talk About Ever.) An all-out Kuroo means a lot more slow laughter, a lot more slow everything, and a lot of discussions that begin with the phrase hypothetically speaking.
He supposes that he is jumping into one of those hypothetically speaking discussions, because Ushijima looks sagely. Not that Ushijima does not always look sagely, but he looks even more sagely when he has had exactly one glass of wine, which is the only drink he ever has. Ushijima is, to put it delicately, a lightweight.
'Not to be Byronic,' Ushijima is saying in a sagely manner, 'but some people are like maelstroms.'
'But like, fire maelstroms,' Sawamura adds, nodding even more sagely. 'What? Have you seen Suga in the kitchen?'
Kenma feels the same sentiment that Kuroo's face expresses; one of wishing to exit the conversation as quickly and painlessly as possible. Since he, unlike Kuroo, actually has the luxury of doing so, he proceeds with it.
Me [23:14]
has kageyama stopped crying?
Shouyou [23:19]
dhhh hgh, ? hh h k k
Shouyou [23:24]
hello kenma! it's yamaguchi ^^
hinata's a little unavailable, sorry
he, uh. took a shot
Me [23:25]
one shot?
Shouyou [23:26]
or three. it was a mistake
it's a high school reunion, you know how those get...
Me [23:27]
good luck.
Shouyou [23:26]
right.
Honestly, it might be time to admit that something is very wrong with Kenma's timing on this particular New Year's Eve, because he, in a disgusting display of intelligence, seems to have missed the buildup to what is now unfolding while texting Yamaguchi.
Sugawara is...laughing. While Kenma has seen him laugh on multiple occasions, it is usually a contained giggle behind his hand or sometimes a sideways smirk at an event he knew would come to be if someone betrayed him in the chain of command. What Kenma has never seen is this: Sugawara throwing his head back, eyes closed, laughing so hard that he can barely breathe.
'I'm sorry,' he gasps, as the music rages on in the background and half the room looks at him in shock. 'I thought—'
'You thought you could get away with it, that's what,' Sawamura says, a little darkly. 'Do y'all believe me now? He's always throwing me under the bus and you fuckers just—'
'Shut your face,' Iwaizumi says. He sounds a little bit dazed. 'Are you not listening to this.'
Kenma would like to believe that had anyone in the room been at least twenty percent more sober than they are right now, none of this would be happening. The point, however, is that Kenma would like to believe that. He knows for a fact that it isn't true in the slightest.
He would also like to believe that had Sawamura been at least twenty percent more sober than he is right now, he would not be looking at Sugawara with as much unbridled exasperation as he is right now. The point, however, is that Sawamura is completely sober. He hasn't taken a single drink— Kenma knows these things— and he is still allowing that exasperation on his face to look as fond as if he has known Sugawara all his life. Which he has, Kenma remembers with a strange sort of warmth in his chest. He has. In a way much different from what he, and Bokuto, and Kuroo share— but a way just as powerful all the same.
That is perhaps why Kenma is the only one to notice— but not the only one to understand— when the half-glare on Sawamura's face shifts, a split-second before he blinks and cracks. Then he's grinning, so rich and undeniably handsome; shaking his head and pulling Sugawara in, dragging him close. Kenma watches, the music still raging in the background, as he leans his head on Sugawara's shoulder and keeps grinning against his neck. It really makes for a sight, them leaning against each other, Sugawara almost clueless in his breathless laughter, eyes shiny and cheeks red even in the low lights.
Kenma has perhaps never heard a louder declaration in his life, at least not a returned one.
●●●
When Akiteru holds the plate out to him, it is without a word. Kei looks down at the slice on it, the white cream, the strawberries piled up to the side, hulled and cut in quarters. The small fork is clinking just the slightest bit against the sharp edge of the plate, rattling in time with the natural tremble of Akiteru's hand.
Kei looks down at it for a moment longer, and wants to do it for many more moments, but he doesn't think he ever learned how to be properly cruel. So he cuts the wait short and reaches out to take it and murmurs his thanks.
'We have five minutes to go,' Akiteru says. 'Do you want to go outside?'
Kei hasn't technically taken his eyes off the plate. He knows it's cold outside, and he knows there will be fireworks. He also knows that they can see them just as well from the windows.
He inches towards the armrest of the couch and pulls a cushion to himself, and he reminds himself that if he never learned how to be properly cruel, Akiteru never learned how to be cruel in the first place. It is, funnily enough, the entire problem; that Akiteru keeps him waiting for so long not out of spite but care.
He only takes the first spoonful of the shortcake once Akiteru is finally settled beside him. Swallowing it does the same strange thing to his chest, and throat, and eyes, that it has always done, but he swallows it anyway. (Kei has an awkward relationship with emotion, in which he looks at the size of it and is more easily daunted than by anything else in life.)
'It's good,' he says.
'Yeah,' Akiteru replies. 'Three minutes.'
●●●
'Kuroo, you are crushing my entire existence.'
'That's why you should've listened to me in fifth grade,' Kuroo says gravely. 'When I told you to eat your fucking greens.'
Kenma sighs and shifts further into the corner of the couch, which only makes Kuroo slide further into him. On the one hand, like Kenma mentioned before, this is one of the only two planned occasions upon which Kuroo is actually too drunk to sit upright on the armrest of a couch; on the other hand, Kenma usually has the good timing to get out of the way before Kuroo drapes himself all over the nearest piece of furniture. Unfortunately, like Kenma also mentioned before, today is not a good day for timing. Consequently, he is curled into a corner of the single couch while Kuroo slides more and more off the armrest, dragging Bokuto along with him, who he has caught tightly by the wrist.
'Bro, stop fuckin' pulling me,' Bokuto mutters, looking very concentratedly at his phone screen, which Kenma can tell is upside down. 'Gotta text 'kaashi. Gotta text him. Keiji.'
'It's not even,' Kuroo says, then pauses. Kenma looks up from his own phone to verify if he is just doing that Drunk Kuroo thing where he pauses for no reason at all between sentences apart from the one where he thinks it adds dramatic effect. (He is, and it does not.) 'Not even midnight, Koutarou. You are so...fucking...dense.'
'Not anymore than you, darling,' Bokuto snaps. 'Fuckin' shithead fucking. Hair.'
'Hair,' Kuroo repeats in an arrogant, amused drawl. 'That's...all you've got. Hair.'
'No, that's all you've got,' Bokuto says. 'Hair.'
'I've got Kenma.'
'He's got me!' Oikawa says, and Kenma jumps. This really isn't a smart evening for him at all; he would have noticed Oikawa on his other side ages ago if it had been. 'Kuroo Tetsurou always has Gecko Tooru.'
'Thanks, but I'm an atheist,' Kuroo says. 'We've been over this.'
Kenma sighs and turns to look up at Oikawa, who is slowly developing a rather murderous expression on his face. It disappears under a bright smile, though; he inclines his head towards Kuroo and scrunches up his nose.
'You're lucky he isn't here,' Oikawa says. 'You don't want your new year to start off that way, do you?'
'You know how I don't want my new year to start off?' Kenma has to make a valiant effort to turn around in his seat, and he cannot honestly say that the view of Sawamura's equally sweet, equally homicidal face is worth it. 'I don't want to start my new year listening to a bunch of literal mosquitoes arguing among themselves. So shut the fuck up.'
'Oh, you're only pissed that your birthday is ending.'
'Like I care! We've still got Asahi's!'
'You do realise,' Kuroo says slowly, 'that Asahi's birthday is not your birthday.'
'You do realise,' Sawamura says, even more slowly, 'that you don't have to talk like that all the time.'
In retrospect, Kenma thoroughly believes that a drunk Hinata would have been a better option than this. Because just as Sawamura launches the insult, Kuroo, thoroughly offended, slings an arm around Kenma's neck and starts a volley of such disgustingly pseudo-intellectual argumentation that Kenma feels ashamed to be in his presence. Also, he feels a little bit like the cat in that one Vine, the one where the owner is, well, yelling, and the cat is doing the strangest little head bobbing routine, presumably to escape from the owner. Like, shakalaka.
'Oh, right,' Sawamura is saying, his voice muffled to Kenma since Kuroo's sweater-clad arm is around his ears, 'That's right! Because your case study was voted in, you think—'
'It's not,' Kuroo says, 'about the case study. Sawamura. This isn't about the case study at all.'
'What is it about then? Life? Love? The universe?'
Kuroo laughs and shakes his head, with what Kenma imagines is a very condescending smile on his face. 'No, Sawamura. This is about the midterm. The one you nearly—'
'All right!' Sugawara's voice sounds like wind chimes, which Kenma knows is the most dangerous thing in the world after Count Dracula. 'We only have a minute to go, so let's all get along, shall we?'
It takes some struggle for Kenma to cat-Vine shakalaka his way out of Kuroo's death grip, but once he does, he makes sure to perch himself on the opposite armrest, even if it means coming uncomfortably close to an uncomfortably good-smelling Oikawa. Oikawa, too drunk to care, actually smiles fondly down at Kenma and pulls on his cheek once before resuming the act of ignoring him. It works just fine with Kenma.
From his new vantage point, he can see everyone. They aren't expecting a lot of fireworks on campus, but Iwaizumi and Ushijima are still out on the balcony, heads already turned up. To his right, Oikawa has an elbow on the backrest of the couch, stretching and taking a look outside as well. To his left, Bokuto has his arms around Kuroo now, pressing his cheek to the crown of his head. Sawamura and Sugawara are near the balcony too, standing on either side of it like the mainstays they are. Asahi, seemingly having made a truce with Tanaka and Nishinoya both. Shimizu and Michimiya, hand in hand. Himuro and Izuki, decidedly not hand in hand.
And yes, Kenma thinks as they start counting down. Perhaps he's been off-kilter all evening and hasn't really taken in as much as he would, normally— but he sees now that it affords him this: the night suddenly rushing into his cognisance, lights going brighter, sounds going louder, as if he is realising all at once that he is surrounded by friends, and more friends, and an impatient future. And as he tightens his grip on his phone, Kenma finds himself hoping with a smile that anyone standing on any balcony right now will be able to see all the fireworks that they want to.
'Zero,' he whispers, and the sky lights up.