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“American Airlines Flight 458 from Los Angeles to Tokyo has been delayed due to unforeseen circumstances. Please note; American Airlines Flight 458 has been delayed. Thank you.”
The notice was followed by the familiar chime marking the end of an announcement, and then the clock next to Flight 458 on the overhead arrivals and departures display rolled over to a new estimated TOA, a full five hours later than the original landing time and well past midnight.
Kuroko frowned hard enough at the carpeted waiting lounge floor that the elderly businessman making his way past gave him a disgruntled look and an extra wide berth. Delays such as these were an unfortunate given when one considered the high air freight traffic between America and Japan, but it still wasn’t what he’d wanted to hear.
Nigou was going to be out of his mind with worry by the time they got round to picking him up from his parents’ house, and the rain – it had started as a gentle drizzle in the late afternoon – was beating down furiously against the sheet glass windows of Narita International Airport’s Second Terminal building. Kuroko shifted the cuff of his jacket sleeve, took a look at his watch, took another look back at the display and let out an irritated sigh. Not even three minutes had passed since the announcement and he already felt like tearing his hair out.
The announcement intercom chimed again. “Kuroko Tetsuya, please come to the information desk located on the first floor. Please note, Kuroko Tetsuya to the first floor information desk. Thank you.”
It took him longer than it probably should have to realize that it had been his name the announcer had called out, but when he finally did, Kuroko felt an icy hand wrap around his heart. First the delay and now this? It could’ve been coincidence, of course, but Kuroko’s gut was frantically vetoing the notion with punctuated churning motions. He was up and running for the nearest escalator in a heartbeat.
He took the stairs two and three at a time, muttering proclamations of “Excuse me” and “Sorry” as he wended his way effortlessly around the escalator’s other occupants. By the time he stepped foot on the guard plate of the first floor, most of them were still looking around, utterly nonplussed at the phantom voice they’d heard.
There were times when Kuroko was infinitely grateful that he was nearly invisible to most people.
He was nearly out of breath by the time he reached the booth, though it was more from the anxiousness that was trying to claw its way up and out of his throat than from actual exertion.
“Kuroko Tetsuya!” he exclaimed, leaning his arms on the counter to catch his breath and startling the motherly-looking clerk behind it to no end.
“Goodness!” she exclaimed, pressing a hand to her heart, and Kuroko wanted to apologize for giving her a fright, he really did, but –
“I was told to come here,” he panted. “I am Kuroko Tetsuya. Is there a problem?”
“Happy Birthday, idiot.” Kuroko’s eyes widened at the familiarity of the greeting, and more importantly, the dulcet tones of the voice behind it. He felt like a rusty hinge, movements stiff and jerky as he turned around only to be confronted with Kagami’s kilowatt bright smile and the cuddly teddy bear he was trying to stuff into Kuroko’s arms. It had cute patchwork patterns all over and was soft to the touch. Kuroko also noted with a touch of chagrin that it had bright blue eyes.
“Kagami-kun…” Kuroko started, still caught off guard and then Kagami was leaning in, crushing him in a hug that felt like it could go on forever.
“You didn’t seriously think I’d miss your birthday, did you?” Kagami whispered from the vicinity of his hairline, but still only loud enough for Kuroko to hear, before pulling away to scratch ruefully at the back of his head. “I took an earlier flight so that I could surprise you, or something like that. Are you happy?”
Kuroko looked down at the floppy bear in his arms and then back up to Kagami – whose ears had gone a conspicuous shade of red scarcely brighter than his hair – and the back down at the floor. He muttered something low under his breath.
“I didn’t catch that –“ Kagami began, before letting out a pained huff of air when Kuroko winded him with an elbow to the solar plexus.
“I said, ‘Kagami-kun is an insensitive jerk who should consider the feelings of others more often’,” Kuroko replied calmly, ignoring the way the information clerk’s mouth was hanging agape. “I was worried senseless, thinking something had happened to you, and here you are, safe and whole and unscathed.”
“You are so dead once I can breathe properly again,” Kagami bit out, doubled over and clutching at his stomach.
“Aren’t I supposed to be the one giving Kagami-kun heart attacks, and not the other way around?” Kuroko asked, before reaching out a hand to clasp one of Kagami’s and giving him a warm, resigned smile. Kagami straightened slowly, pain dimished but not yet forgotten (or completely forgiven), and laced their fingers together with an irritated growl.
“Serves you right, you bastard,” he wheezed, but the tentative smile he gave Kuroko a moment later was small and private and far too intimate for a busy airport. Distinctly aware of the clerk’s sudden hurried movements from where she was busily trying to distract herself from the situation playing out right in front of her desk, Kuroko tugged at Kagami’s hand and began leading him away.
“Let me apologize then by saying, welcome home Kagami-kun. Also, I hope you don’t expect me to carry any of your luggage on the way out.” He gave Kagami’s suitcase and battered Seirin High tote bag, which had been hidden haphazardly behind the far side of the counter, a pointed look.
The smirk Kagami gave him was smug, content and set Kuroko’s heart beating frantically against his chest. “I wouldn’t dream of making someone as delicate and frail as you carry something so cumbersome,” he deadpanned, hefting the handles of both in his unoccupied hand. Kuroko let the jibe slide and settled for squeezing Kagami’s hand a tad more forcefully than was strictly necessary.
As they made their way to the rain-washed world outside the terminal’s sliding doors, Kagami squeezed back, and shot Kuroko a side-long glance. “By the way, I’m home,” he said.
“I know,” Kuroko whispered into the teddy bear’s fur, careful of letting the howl of the driving winter wind sweep his words away.