Chapter Text
"How's everybody doin' tonight?" Kuroo yells into the microphone, hearing the cacophonies of his fans screaming in response. He grins, loving the high that comes with every performance.
"I hope y'all are havin' a blast, 'cause I know I am!" Bokuto cheers into his microphone, pumping his fist with enthusiasm.
"The next song's a special one, near and dear to my heart," Kuroo continues. He plasters on his most smouldering grin. He strums a few of the opening chords, unable to suppress a wide smirk when the crowd goes wild with recognition. "Are you ready for it?"
Deafening screams.
"I said, are you ready for it?!"
The screams raise an octave in pitch.
"But, before we start..." Kuroo laughs when the fans groan at his teasing. He scans the faces in the crowd, letting the tension build in the air.
Eventually, his gaze rests on a small head of bleach blonde hair, wispy bangs framing a small pixie-like face that glows and pulses along with the strobe lights. He doesn't know why he does it, but he finds himself meeting those yellow eyes, cat-like in their neon reverence, and feeling his heart stutter a single beat. If not for the glowing light-stick in their hand, the placid set of their lips would've made Kuroo think that they didn't want to be there.
Kuroo wonders what those lips would look like smiling.
Throat drying up with anticipation, this is when Kuroo Tetsurou makes what is arguably the worst and best decision of his life.
"Hey, you over there... Yeah, you. The blondie in the blue sweater. How 'bout you come and join us on stage for this one?"
This is bad. This is bad, is all Kenma can think when he feels the weight of Kuroo Tetsurou's piercing dark eyes as they probe the audience. The fluttering of nervous butterflies are expected, but Kenma doesn't welcome it. He'd made it through half the songs, a lot more than he'd thought he could handle, but the bodies pressed up around him are overwhelming.
Pinching Shouyou's sleeve between his fingers, he tugs and shuffles closer, feeling the familiar twinges of anxiety curl around in his stomach. Shouyou turns to him worriedly.
"Do you want to leave?" he shouts over the noise of the crowd. "They're about to play your favourite song, though."
Kenma bites his lip, shifting his gaze back to the stage. The lead singer is busy teasing the crowd, revelling in their reactions, and Kenma finds himself unwilling to miss this. It had taken a monumental effort on his own part and Shouyou's convincing for him to work himself up to come here. He doesn't regret coming, no, but as with every social outing that Kenma attends, a part of him yearns to be elsewhere.
But hearing Kuroo Tetsurou's voice, live and in person and so very real makes all of the stress worth it.
He makes a quick hand sign for 'after', and Shouyou nods in understanding, looping his arm around Kenma's. The grin he shoots the blonde is proud and infectious, and at once Kenma's heart feels a little lighter.
Yes... staying was a good decision. After all, he doesn't want to ruin this for Shouyou, too.
With that, he turns back to the stage, determined to enjoy the rest of the concert and see this through to the end. However, as soon as his gaze snaps up, he freezes, feeling his skin crawl with nerves and heat from blood that rushes to his cheeks and palms because without a doubt, Kuroo Tetsurou is staring straight at him. Kenma can't move, pinned under that hooded gaze, squirming under its weight, feeling scraped raw and vulnerable. Shouyou, who notices Kuroo Tetsurou's line of sight, glances back and forth between his friend and the singer with wide-eyed interest.
"Hey, you over there... Yeah, you. The blondie in the blue sweater. How 'bout you come and join us on stage for this one?"
What?
Oh no. No, no, no, no, no...
Kenma pales and shakes his head quickly, looking to Shouyou for help who looks just as equally stricken as he feels with his mouth hanging open in horror. But before the redhead can do or say anything to remedy the situation, the crowd roars, pinpointing Kenma and shoving and ushering him up to the stage under Kuroo Tetsurou's enthusiastic beckoning.
In a daze, Kenma finds himself stumbling up under the spotlight feeling like a newborn deer on shaking legs and wondering why exactly this sort of thing has to happen to him and how exactly the situation escalated this quickly. He blinks rapidly, hearing his blood pounding in his ears, and the weight of his body suddenly feeling like too much —
Suddenly, the weight of a heavy arm lands on his shoulders.
"I was hoping you could help us out with the next song," Kuroo Tetsurou drawls, and he's so close that Kenma feels absolutely dwarfed next to him, both physically and presence-wise. "You know it, don't you?"
Kenma swallows, thankful for the yes-no question. His tongue feels like lead in one-on-one conversations, and right now, it is a star in his mouth that burns so hot it's painful and its weight far too much for a single boy to handle. He manages to nod once, tight and jerky, and is relieved that the rest of his body is at least operating semi-normally. With luck, he might get through this as long as he isn't asked any other questions.
He finds Shouyou's face in the crowd and his friend is signing frantically to him while jumping up and down, 'Lip-sing. Lip-sing!' But before he can make any move to reply, Kuroo Tetsurou laughs easily, finally releasing his shoulders and stepping back out of Kenma's space to both the boy's simultaneous relief and chagrin.
"No need to look so nervous. Why don't you tell us your name?"
Kenma opens his mouth, even though he knows no sound will come out — hasn't for years. Everyone's eyes are on him right now, and under Kuroo Tetsurou's expectant gaze, Kenma has never felt like more of a failure.
Why can't I speak?
Why can't I even say my own name?
Frustration bubbles up that's been far too long suppressed and tears bud at the corners of his eyes.
He's already been quiet for too long to be natural, he knows. Even others under shock would be able to manage out a name. When he glances up, Kuroo Tetsurou's look of distinct confusion, an unasked question in the furrow of his brows, makes Kenma want to curl up in some dark corner for the rest of his life. But before Kenma can run off the stage and do just that, someone speaks up.
"Kuroo, you idiot. You scared the hell out of him." It's Tsukishima Kei, the drummer, whose bored drawl draws a wave of titters through the crowd. Relief leaves Kenma in an exhale when the singer's attention is pulled away from him.
"Yeah!" Oikawa Tooru pipes up into his own mic. "How about we get two more people up here?"
With obvious approval from the crowd, Oikawa and Bokuto make a game out of choosing someone. It's clear they're trying to draw attention away from the awkward situation that had been Kenma's appearance, and honestly, Kenma doesn't know if he should feel grateful or offended.
But as it turns out, his body — unsurprisingly — has other plans.
Kenma promptly passes out, and the last thing he remembers as the darkness swallow him are warm arms and Kuroo Tetsurou's voice, loud and insistent by his ear.