Chapter Text
Growing up, Kuroo had never really believed in soulmates. Okay, well, maybe he’d believed in them to an extent; it’s not like he could close his eyes and the star on his chest – gold and bright, with just a speck of black in the middle, right over his heart – would suddenly disappear. He’d just never really bought into it. To him, it’d always just seemed like one big hoax. Something designed to placate everyone, to make them believe that there was a happy ending out there for them, to make them forget about all the other problems in the world.
When Kuroo was eight, he had to pull three bullies off of Kenma. When he’d asked what they wanted from him, Kenma had told him that he didn’t have a soulmark.
When he was fourteen, a store in his neighbourhood had been held up, and the cashier had been killed. It had later turned out that the cashier and the shooter were soulmates that, by some twist of fate, hadn’t met before then. The shooter had been sentenced to life in prison for the crime.
So, he’d decided that soulmates weren’t for him. If the universe was twisted enough that someone could end up killing their own soulmate, he didn’t really want a part in it.
Or, at least he thought that he’d decided. Things started becoming a lot less clear when he met Bokuto Koutarou and Terushima Yuuji.
It was summer, and Kuroo was jogging through a park near the university, because apparently he hated himself. The heat was sweltering; the sun beat down without the mercy of any wind. Sweat dripped down the back of Kuroo’s neck, and all he wanted to do was collapse onto the grass beside the path. And maybe dive head-first into a swimming pool and never come out.
But, he was nothing if not determined once he set out to do something. He’d be damned if he didn’t finish his route.
So, he pressed on, ignoring the way his shirt stuck to his skin with sweat. It was a Thursday, but the university was on break, so the park was pretty busy that day. He ran past picnicking families and couples, and people walking their dogs. The path he was on took him past a small pond, and towards the courts. People were playing tennis and basketball, and Kuroo paused mid-step when he noticed a group playing volleyball. It was odd to see people playing volleyball outdoors; he’d mostly only ever seen people playing indoors.
He watched, distracted, as the ball arced into the air, and a guy with black and white hair slammed it down into the other court with a satisfying bang. He guy let out a cheer as a small, ginger kid on the opposite side from him jumped up and down, yelling “so cool!” over and over. Kuroo couldn’t help but chuckle at his enthusiasm.
He was surprised to see Oikawa pick up the ball again and get ready to serve. If Iwaizumi knew he was here, practicing when he was supposed to be resting, he would kill him. As Oikawa set up his serve, Kuroo’s eyes drifted back to the guy with the owl hair. Even though he was facing away from Kuroo, he could tell that he was attractive. He was built solidly, and his muscles were perfectly toned. The guy turned, and Kuroo’s intuition was confirmed as he caught a glimpse of golden eyes and—
A volleyball hit him square in the face.
Kuroo fell back, sprawling out on the grass behind him with an oof. He stared up at the sky for a moment, wondering what just happened. Probably Oikawa getting way too into the game and one of his serves going wild. Oh, he was so telling Iwaizumi now.
“Tetsu-chan!” He heard Oikawa’s voice call to him, high-pitched and annoyingly chipper. Kuroo groaned, his nose throbbing in pain, and sat up to see Oikawa and the guy with the black and white hair jogging towards him. As his gaze fell on him, Oikawa stopped for a moment, and let out an “oh, shit” under his breath. Kuroo frowned and brought his hand to his nose. He let out another groan when his fingers came away wet.
“Oikawa, you asshole,” he grouched. “No wonder Iwaizumi calls you shittykawa.”
Vague panic crossed over Oikawa’s face at the mention of Iwaizumi. “You cannot tell Iwa-chan about this, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa said as he came to kneel next to him, the other guy standing just behind Oikawa. “He’ll murder me!”
“You probably broke my nose!” Kuroo said, covering his nose with his hand and tipping his head back. “Give me one good reason I shouldn’t go tell Iwaizumi right now.”
Oikawa shifted, thinking for a moment. “You can come play with us! I know you haven’t played volleyball in a while,” he said. “It’ll be fun!”
“My nose is bleeding!” He hissed, glaring at Oikawa.
“I’m not surprised, dude, Oikawa’s serves are intense,” the guy behind Oikawa said, grinning. How could he be smiling right now? God, that grin was so stupid. And pretty.
Kuroo snorted. Or, he tried to, and winced in the process. “I appreciate the sympathy,” he muttered.
The guy laughed. “Come on, I’ll help stop the bleeding,” he said, offering Kuroo a hand up. “Then you can come play with us!”
Kuroo frowned at him for a moment, noticing the hint of a golden mark peeking out from underneath his tank top. Deciding to ignore it, he took the offered hand. “Fine,” he sighed, and then turned to Oikawa. “But you owe me a drink. And only once you’ve bought me that drink, I’ll think about not telling Iwaizumi.”
Oikawa nodded furiously, and Kuroo laughed a little under his breath as he followed the other guy away, keeping his face turned towards the sky.
“So,” the guy spoke up. “Tetsu-chan?”
“Tetsurou, actually,” Kuroo said. “Kuroo. Oikawa gives everyone obnoxious nicknames.”
The guy laughed. “I know,” he said. “I’m Kou-chan to him. Bokuto Koutarou.”
“I wish I could say that it’s a pleasure, but…”
Bokuto laughed, wide grin still fixed on his face. “I get it, I get it. Taking a spike to the face is never fun. And Oikawa’s serves might as well be spikes in that regard. So, you play?”
“Casually, sometimes,” Kuroo said. “I used to play a lot more, but I don’t have the time now that I’m in university.”
“I get that,” Bokuto said as he led them into a public bathroom, grabbing some toilet paper and handing it to Kuroo. “Most of my old teammates don’t play anymore for the same reason.”
Kuroo took the toilet paper and scrunched it up, putting two pieces up his nose. He then tentatively touched the bridge of his nose, wincing at the pressure. It was bruised, definitely, but didn’t quite feel broken. He’d had enough of those as a kid to know the difference. He perched on the sink, tipping his head back.
“Broken?” Bokuto asked. Kuroo shook his head. “Gonna need an icepack?”
“I think I’ll be fine,” Kuroo said. “It might swell up a bit, but I don’t think it’ll be too bad. I’ve taken worse hits to the face.”
“You gonna tell Iwaizumi?” Bokuto snickered.
Kuroo laughed. “I haven’t decided. I’m not sure how vindictive I’m feeling yet,” he said. “I guess it depends how badly I beat Oikawa’s ass.”
Bokuto threw his head back in laughter. “Oikawa isn’t exactly an amateur.”
“Oh, I know,” Kuroo said. “But I saw how you spiked – you’re not exactly an amateur, either. And I might be rusty, but I’m not a bad player.”
“Well, then, I’m excited to see you play. I’m sure we’ll beat Oikawa’s ass thoroughly.”
“Heck, yeah, dude,” Kuroo grinned. “Let’s go, I think I’m good.” Kuroo hopped down from the sink and pulled the tissues out of his nose, tossing them into the bin.
“You sure?” Bokuto asked. “I don’t want your nose to start bleeding again or something.”
“Nah, don’t worry about it, dude, I’ll be fine,” he said, heading towards the door. “Let’s go.”
They walked back towards the court, chatting amiably. Kuroo found himself laughing at every second thing Bokuto said and admiring the way Bokuto’s eyes lit up when he did. He glanced back down at Bokuto’s chest, wondering, just for a moment, if maybe… No. He shook his head to himself. It wasn’t likely. And even if it was, it wasn’t important. That’s what he told himself.
So far, he really liked Bokuto – and, yeah, he’d date him in a heartbeat – but he wasn’t going to let being soulmates dictate that.
When they got back to the court, they were playing two on two, with Oikawa sitting out, a pout firmly fixed on his face. Next to him sat Ushijima, who hadn’t been there before. No wonder Oikawa looked so upset. On the court was the ginger kid from before, a very grumpy looking setter, Daichi, and Nishinoya. Oikawa looked up as the approached, perking up.
“Tetsu-chan! You’re alright!” He called. “You can come play with us. Ushiwaka-chan even agreed so that we’d be even! Now you won’t tell Iwa-chan, right? Right? I’ll buy you that drink!”
“I said I’d think about not telling Iwaizumi when you bought me that drink,” he said. “I still haven’t decided yet. Now, are we going to play or what?”
“Hell yeah!” He heard Nishinoya shout from behind him. “Four on four, let’s go!”
So, they played. Ushijima joined Oikawa’s team, which Oikawa wasn’t exactly happy about – only slightly less so than if he’d been playing against him.
It was a pretty even match, all things considered. Each time Kuroo managed to slam the ball down on the opposite side of the net, a familiar thrill ran through him. Even after all this time, he still loved volleyball. Each time they scored, Bokuto would cheer as loudly as possible, and Kuroo quickly found himself doing the same. In a way that surprised even Hinata, Kuroo and Bokuto managed to continually hype each other up throughout the set.
Their enthusiasm only increased with each point scored, though Kuroo nowhere near matched Bokuto’s excitability, and when they finally won their set, Bokuto tore off his shirt as he leaped into the air and cheered. Kuroo was about to do the same – or something to the same effect – when his eyes landed on Bokuto’s chest.
A shining, golden star with a speck of black in the middle, right over his heart. Kuroo froze, staring at it. It was the same as Kuroo’s. There was no mistaking it. Kuroo felt his heart thunder in his chest, and couldn’t help the overwhelming want that he felt.
Bokuto was friendly, funny, knew just how to get him pumped, and had one of the best smiles Kuroo had ever seen. And more than anything else, they matched.
In that moment, Kuroo started believing in soulmates, just a little.
He swallowed. “Hey, Bo, I think-”
“Oh, Yuuji!” Bokuto called excitedly, looking past Kuroo. Kuroo turned to see a guy with a blond undercut approaching them just as Bokuto bounded towards him and pulled him into a deep kiss. Kuroo suppressed a flinch.
“Hey, there, Kou! Miss me much?” The guy grinned once Bokuto had let him go. Then, his eyes landed on Kuroo. “Who’s this? He wasn’t here when I left.”
“Kuroo Tetsurou,” Kuroo said tightly. “Oikawa over there hit me in the face with one of his serves and invited me to play as an apology.”
The guy laughed. “Pretty shitty apology.”
Kuroo smiled, hoping that it didn’t look as fake as it felt. “He’s also buying me a drink. I threatened to tell Iwaizumi.”
He laughed again, putting his arm around Bokuto. “Nice one.”
“And you are?”
“Oh! Sorry, Terushima Yuuji,” he greeted. His smile was almost as bright as Bokuto’s, and just as nice – but Kuroo couldn’t help but feel a little bitter towards it. They suited each other well. “I’m this one’s soulmate.” He squeezed Bokuto a little.
And, just like that, Kuroo’s small belief was shattered. He tried to smile, but he couldn’t.
Bokuto’s eyes widened. “Shit dude, you- Are you okay?”
Kuroo faltered a moment, scared he’d been caught, and then frowned. “I’m fine, why?”
“Your nose is bleeding,” Terushima said.
Kuroo blinked. “Shit.” He brought his hand up to his nose again and, sure enough, there was blood there. He glared back at Oikawa. “Two nosebleeds means you owe me two drinks, asshole!” He yelled.
Oikawa spluttered, but didn’t protest.
“Want me to help you again?” Bokuto offered. His earnestness just made Kuroo feel worse.
“No,” he said, a little too quickly. “No, it’s fine. I’m just- I’m just gonna go home. I have work to do, anyway.”
Bokuto deflated. “Oh. Well, I’ll see you around then. Hey! Why don’t I take down your number? We can play volleyball again!”
Kuroo hesitated for a moment. Did he really want to give Bokuto his number? His head told him that it was a terrible idea, that it would just lead to heartache. The guy already had a soulmate. Maybe it meant that Kuroo didn’t have one, after all. Not that he needed one. In the end, his heart won out and he said, “Just get it from Oikawa. I’m gonna go before this stains my shirt.”
Before anyone could say anything else, he left.
When he got home, Kuroo called Kenma.
He headed straight for the couch as he dialled his number, flopping onto it. His nose had stopped bleeding on the way home, and he saw no sign of Tsukishima, so he figured it was fine not to drag himself all the way to his room.
Kenma picked up on the fourth ring. “Kuro? What is it?” He asked.
Kuroo made an indignant noise. “Why do you always assume something’s wrong when I call?”
Kenma sighed. “Because you only ever call when something’s wrong. Otherwise you’d just text me,” he pointed out.
Kuroo pouted. Why did Kenma have to know him so well? “I met a guy today,” he said.
“You meet guys all the time, Kuro,” Kenma said.
“I know, but.” Kuroo hesitated, chewing on his lip.
“This one’s different somehow. Why?”
“I thought he was my soulmate. For a moment.”
Kenma was silent, and Kuroo knew that he was thinking. Kuroo just appreciated having him on the line. “What makes you say that?” Kenma asked after a minute.
“I was playing volleyball with him and Oikawa and a few others and he took off his shirt.”
“You matched?” Kenma sounded surprised.
“I thought so,” Kuroo sighed. He shifted onto his back and stared up at the ceiling, grimacing. He was still a little shaken from the incident. That small hope and then… Nothing. This is exactly why he’d told himself not to believe in soulmates in the first place. They would always let you down. Always.
“And now you don’t?”
“He… Already has a soulmate.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” Kuroo paused again, thinking of what to say. “I just… I think soulmates are stupid. I do. But… Part of me really hoped for a second, you know? I was so sure. Maybe this means I don’t have a soulmate. Maybe there was some kind of mistake with me.”
“I know,” Kenma said, sounding sympathetic. “I know the feeling.”
“Thanks, Kenma,” Kuroo murmured, glad that he at least had him. A lot of people gave them shit for being so close when they weren’t even soulmates, but. Kenma was the best friend Kuroo could have asked for. He placed about as much importance on the whole soulmate thing as Kuroo did, so they understood each other.
“No need to thank me.”
Kuroo’s lips quirked up a little. “I know. But I did anyway. Thanks for sticking with me.”
“I should be the one saying that.” He could hear the small smile in Kenma’s voice. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” Kuroo said honestly. “Yeah, I’ll be fine. The nosebleed’s stopped already.”
Kenma paused. “The what?”
Kuroo laughed. “Oh, right. I didn’t tell you. I’ll give you the whole story when I see you on Saturday.”
“Okay, I’ll see you then, Kuro.”
“See you then.”
Kuroo let his phone drop onto the couch beside him when Kenma hung up, slinging an arm over his face.
He’d be fine, he would. It was natural to be shaken up by something like that, wasn’t it? Sighing, Kuroo turned onto his side and let himself fall asleep.