Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The words bounced around in Kuroo’s brain over and over again. Five simple words, clear as day in Kenma’s low voice: ‘I can’t do this anymore.’

Logically, the phrase would have had to have been uttered just moments ago in order for it to have stayed perfectly intact in his brain, or maybe even repeated multiple times, but it was said only once and just over a year ago.

His chest felt heavy and the six-pack of beer in the fridge was calling his name. Everytime he thought too hard about Kenma, he fell into a bottomless pit, emptiness surrounding him. He had to drown it before it drowned him.

It was partially his fault that they split, and the day after it happened, he felt so free. The week after it happened, he’d already made peace with it. A few months after it happened was when the emptiness crept in, secretly expanding and expanding until it swallowed him whole.

Words were said, not to be taken back, but he started feeling the absence of Kenma. They had been friends for many years before dating. They grew up with each other, being molded by each other, depending on the rest of their lives being with each other.

He noticed the emptiness first on a tired afternoon. It had been storming outside. As the rain pounded against the window pane, he caught himself instinctually wandering into his closet to grab the heated blanket. He had stood there, frowning past the open door, his eyes clinging to the old ratty thing.

Kuroo looked through their apartment to find it empty. Kenma wasn’t a large person, but it also wasn’t a particularly large apartment. He would have been easy to see. Where was he? He should have been home by then.

Kuroo glanced out the window at the storm raging on and a prick of nervousness poked at the back of his throat. Hopefully his boyfriend was safe, not being battered by the rain. It was just a storm, but nothing was allowed to hurt, or even simply inconvenience, his boyfriend. Kenma deserved the world, but only the best parts.

Just as he had the text written out, the door to their apartment opened, revealing a very wet and very elated Kenma.

“I’m glad you’re here,” Kuroo said, wrapping his arms around his waterlogged boyfriend.

The relief flooded through his body as the water flooded through his shirt.

“Sorry,” Kenma said, hardly able to keep the smile off of his face as he tilted his head up to kiss Kuroo, “Did I miss something?”

“No, I was just worried about you,” Kuroo murmured.

“I was on a walk,” Kenma said, “Doesn’t the rain always make you feel so electric?”

Kuroo pulled back and looked at him, his concerned eyes meeting Kenma’s gleeful ones.

“It makes me feel scared,” Kuroo said, “Stronger men than me have fallen to a storm.”

It was more than a bit dramatic, but he didn’t care. It was technically true, at least probably. It wasn’t like he had a list of people who died in storms in his head, but theoretically at least one person who has died in a storm was stronger than him.

“I’ve been doing this since I got to college. I’ve never even come close to being hurt,” Kenma explained. He left Kuroo’s arms to make his way towards the bathroom. “It just feels insane. You know? Like you’re at the mercy of this crazy thing in nature and your problems are all insignificant.”

“But wouldn’t the good things be, too?”

“The good things aren’t what are keeping me weighed down,” Kenma pointed out.

He started taking off his clothes, hanging them over the curtain rods.

“I’m glad,” Kuroo said with a smile.

He walked towards their bedroom to plug in his heated blanket. He’d love to warm the chill out of his boyfriend.

It wasn’t for quite a long time that Kuroo realized what Kenma had actually meant by that.

When he realized his body was reacting to a Kenma that wasn’t there, he froze and something cracked within him, acute emptiness spilling out. He didn’t need a fucking heated blanket. There was no soaked Kenma in his apartment and there never fucking would ever be again.

He walked over to the fridge and grabbed something stronger than beer. He brought it back to his room and flipped open his laptop, deciding to pair his liquid distraction with a visual one.

He pulled up his incognito browser with his carefully curated cacophony of tabs. The Kenma-shaped void inside of him could never be filled, but women giving enthusiastic blowjobs and men being suspended from the ceiling could at least tape over it.

He took rather large sips from the bottle as he clicked around, trying to find the distraction that hit the spot. He was feeling particularly torn apart, so he started with the more intense parts of the catalog to keep him occupied, the snap of a cane on thighs, the hands pulling hair, and the dozens of clothespins pinching skin.

None of it called to him.

Just as he was about to click out of a video of no less than seven people all in one big pile, he caught a quick glance of a mousepad with a game development company’s logo, one he was intimately familiar with.

He immediately closed not only the video, but the entire incognito browser. He clicked into his regular browser and pulled up his bookmarks, scrolling far down the list.

He selected the link he was looking for and expected it to pop up an error, but instead, it came up, a password protected page with two sets of paw prints bouncing around. He’d never even played it, but he assumed this was the right one. He’d heard enough about it.

“I do love you,” Kenma said, already sobbing.

Kuroo just looked at him, not yet letting him into the apartment.

“You don’t,” he said coldly, “If you loved me, you’d make time for me.”

“Oh? And I’m the one who doesn’t love you?” Kenma asked, “How was the game? I added another fucking quest this weekend.”

The words swirled as delicately as cement in Kuroo’s mouth.

“I’ll get to the game, eventually.”

“You’ve said that seven times and counting,” Kenma pointed out, angrily wiping his tears, “Now let me in.”

He felt like he was in a dream as he typed in the passcode. He wondered if it would notify Kenma he was doing it, but he didn’t think so. The only reason the passcode existed was so he could control who was playing it while it was in beta. It took a few seconds to load, but then a list of controls appeared on the screen.

‘Welcome Konekuro! This game is so easy that even you can play!’

That one hurt. It wasn’t even the insult, it was simply that he could hear it in Kenma’s voice, clear as day. He clicked to the next slide as he scrunched his nose, pretending it didn’t shoot an arrow straight through his heart.

‘In this game, you are a cat that can see things that aren’t there. Your job is to use that knowledge to complete levels. All you need are the arrow keys to walk and the ‘mouse (get it?)’ to select the choices.’

Kuroo nodded at the screen, taking a long sip of his drink. As he clicked out of the instructions, he was immediately charmed by the world. He was a small black cat with white paws, wandering through a whimsical seaside town.

Individually, he wouldn’t have understood what the game design was referring to, but the character paired with the setting ignited his memory.

He stirred from his nap, basking in the warmth of the sunbeam shining through their hotel window when he heard his boyfriend laugh a soft little laugh.

“Hmm?” Kuroo hummed, too comfortable to even open his eyes.

“You look like a cat,” Kenma said, “You’re all contorted to fit into the patch of sun.”

“It’s not just cats that do that.”

“You’re literally wearing cat socks,” Kenma pointed out and Kuroo could hear the smile in his voice.

“Pssh.”

“You look like a little black kitty with white paws. I mean come on, an all black outfit with fluffy white socks? Fluffy socks with paw prints on them?”

Kuroo finally looked up at Kenma, his heart burning when he saw him drawing on his tablet, his thick rimmed glasses hanging low on his nose. They looked so good on him, their meaning less so.

“We’re on vacation, love,” Kuroo said, “Can’t you leave your work in Tokyo?”

Kenma frowned at him.

“You’re literally napping,” Kenma said, “If we went down to the beach again I wouldn’t be working on my project, but since we aren’t doing anything, I thought it wouldn’t hurt to get ahead.”

“We’re on vacation,” Kuroo pointed out, again, crossing his arms.

He almost wanted to drop the fight. He had a sunbeam with his name on it.

“I know, but we aren’t doing anything right now,” he said, “I have to finish this cutscene by next week for that horror game or my boss is going to kill me. I figured I’d get a head start.”

Kuroo shot him a disappointed look but didn’t respond, closing his eyes once more and letting the sun wash over him.

He helped his character pad over to a little boy, who was shimmering, and clicked on him. Neon drawings of open boxes popped up around the boy, whose tight lipped expression became a deep frown. A few seconds went by before it went back to normal.

He was left looking at the boy. He was tall, with a baseball tee and a mop of shaggy hair. That was pretty much all he saw. There wasn’t much in the way of direction. He clicked on everything he could think to click on in the house but nothing seemed to work.

Getting frustrated, he left the virtual house and wandered around until he found a downtown area. Most things were locked, but the things that weren’t, didn’t have much to do in them.

His eyelids drooped as he directed his cat back and forth, over and over again, from the house to the town center, unable to find his objective.

He closed the game with a dejected shrug. He was the one who was supposed to be play-testing it. Maybe Kenma didn’t notice a bug in it, rendering the game unplayable. Shit happens.

As he laid in bed, the puzzle wouldn’t vacate his mind, buzzing around aimlessly.

“What is the most important part of the research we do here?” the trainer asked.

“Helping connect kids to a healthier lifestyle,” a woman, who Kuroo had never seen before, answered.

“Not quite. Anyone else?”

“Spreading the culture of sports across the country?” Kuroo’s least favorite coworker answered.

“Not that either, unfortunately,” the trainer said, scanning the room, “It’s about ROI: Our return on investment. We put money in and invest in youth sports and we get money out through equipment sales and broadcast views.”

Kuroo’s brain felt like molasses. He was angry with the way his company was so bold about what they stood for, but he couldn’t hold onto that anger. He was unable to grasp onto any topic or emotion in the slightest. He was preoccupied with the numbness, the empty hole growing larger by the second.

He zoned out as he listened to how innovation and research drive profit. Finally, something slid into his brain and got stuck long enough for him to consider the implications of it.

He glanced around the room to see that nobody was paying much attention to him at all. He quietly clicked at his keyboard, pulling up the game, and typing in the passcode.

He meandered over to the virtual town center and entered the parking garage.

“Do you… do you have a car?” Kuroo asked, following Kenma onto the campus’s parking deck.

“Nope,” Kenma said, a mischievous smile taking over his face.

Kuroo looked around, confused. Kenma said he was going to finally show Kuroo his secret spot, but they were in the parking deck. Neither of them had a car. He didn’t understand what was happening.

“You’re not about to steal a car, are you?”

Kenma burst into laughter.

“What kind of person do you think I became in the year we were apart?” Kenma asked.

Kuroo just followed him, dumbfounded, all the way to the top of the parking deck. There was exactly nothing up there. There were no cars, no inside areas, nothing.

“Are you about to murder me?”

“Please stop guessing,” Kenma said, making his way across to the other side of the really tall structure.

Kuroo shrugged and followed him. They stopped once they reached the edge. There was a ledge, about ten feet wide, and Kenma climbed up on it.

“What are you doing?” Kuroo asked, his heartbeat in his fingertips.

“Sit,” Kenma said, patting the concrete in front of him. Kuroo gingerly climbed up and sat, trying not to look at the ground at least seventy feet below.

“Is this your spot?” he asked, searching Kenma’s eyes.

Kenma nodded.

“Nobody’s ever up here. It’s peaceful. It’s nice when there’s a gentle wind. I like to swing my legs but I’ll spare you,” Kenma explained, “Like, look, you can see them but they never think to look up at you.”

He gestured towards a group of guys throwing around a frisbee in the park below.

“Oh.”

“There’s not really good connection up here, though,” Kenma said, “Which makes it an even better escape, but if you ever need me and you can’t get a hold of me, I’m probably here.”

Glancing around every once in a while to make sure none of his coworkers noticed he wasn’t paying attention, Kuroo trotted Konekuro up to the top of the parking deck.

Sure enough, a cat with black and bleach yellow stripes was napping on the ledge.

He clicked on the cat.

‘Hello! I’m Konekenma! I can see everything that goes on in this town. I can lend some insight into whatever you’re working on and I have things to give you once you finish each task.’

Kuroo clicked on the bolded text.

‘You’re working on Level One: The Beginning. Have you considered checking the neighbor’s house? Also, thanks for stopping by! I love you.’

I love you.

The words sent a shiver down his spine. In real life, he tried to pretend he didn’t feel like he just got shot, and in the game, wandered back to the house with the little boy in front of it.

He clicked on the boy to see the same sketch he saw the night before. This time, instead of clicking around the house, he exited it and walked into the neighbors place through an open window.

He ended up in a boy’s room, looking similar in age to the first one. There were baseball posters all around, but the only thing he was able to click on was an old baseball on a shelf.

A cutscene began. Konekuro shimmied up onto the shelf and grabbed it by its loose fabric with his teeth and then bounced down to the ground. He slunk outside and left the ball near the other boy’s yard. After the cat hid under a bush in waiting, the first boy came out and got excited when he saw the baseball. He grabbed it and knocked on the other boy’s door.

‘Level One: Complete! You can find Konekenma on the top of the parking deck. He will give you a prize and further directions.’

Kuroo started making his way there when he heard movement around him, shattering the immersion of the game. The training session had apparently ended and everyone was leaving. He closed his laptop and stood up, stretching as he walked out of the room.

Chapter Text

He was trying to figure out where in his godforsaken freezer the ice cream was hiding. He had been having one of those days, but he had nothing to drown his feelings in. He wanted to have something sweet to sweeten his day, but he had almost no junk food, and what he did have was savory.

He dug around into the recess of his freezer, the part that had stuff he didn’t even know how long had been in there. The pleasant thought of poisoning himself with horribly old food briefly popped into his head, but he decided against it. He threw things here and there, looking for anything indulgent to ingest.

He grabbed at a bag stuck in the very bottom of the freezer and pulled it out to see mini frozen apple pies.

They’d been on plenty of dates, but Kuroo had never once cooked for Kenma in the dating sense. They’d made food for each other plenty of times, but this was different. He couldn’t explain how it was different, but it was. Everything had to be perfect.

He had a backup plan, though. Even if everything did end up being terrible, he bought a pack of frozen apple pies that he could bake for Kenma to attempt to redeem the dinner as a whole.

He’d tested them the day he got them, tossing one into the oven. When it came out, he was very surprised to find that not only was it edible, but it was also pretty damn good.

He smiled as he cooked, not knowing that he was about to burn the shit out of the meal.

He held the bag up, leveling the pies with a stare. They were in fact sweet if his memory had served him correctly, but they were also very, very old and obviously reminded him of Kenma.

“How’s the pie?” Kuroo asked, nervously, walking into his bedroom.

Kenma looked up at him from the beanbag chair.

“For a freezer pie, it’s pretty good.”

Busted.

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck.

“Well, I’m glad.”

“Don’t worry,” Kenma said with a laugh, “I have these in my freezer right now. I don’t mind that you didn’t make ‘em. I’m obsessed with them.”

Kuroo quickly launched the package into the garbage. He knew that staying in the apartment they shared would leave him with ghosts, but they just kept coming, even a year later, hidden in crevices he didn’t know existed.

He decided to give up. He’d order takeout for dinner and then some dessert on the side. Nothing mattered anymore. He wrestled his tie off and went to his bedroom to change.

Once he was dressed in an old pair of pajamas, he gravitated towards his computer. Playing the game at work was a moment of weakness for him and he knew he shouldn’t continue; He was just digging himself a deeper hole. It would be better to forget about it entirely.

He clicked into the game and trotted downtown to the parking deck, searching for Konekenma.

‘Hello! I’m Konekenma! I can see everything that goes on in this town. I can lend some insight into whatever you’re working on and I have things to give you once you finish each task.’

Kuroo clicked on the second option.

‘You completed Level One: The Beginning! Here is a token of my appreciation!’

A small purple heart appeared in the corner of the screen. When he hovered over it, all it said was ‘Today.’ Clicking on it didn’t do anything either.

‘Now that you’ve found your way around town, there’s not an order you have to complete things in. Go ahead and wander around, finding the many different things for you to do. Feel free to come back if you ever need help. Also, thanks for stopping by! I love you.’

Kuroo swallowed and exited out of the game. He was supposed to be forgetting Kenma, putting that, admittedly large, period of his life behind him, but instead all it did was slam Kenma into the forefront of his mind, a constant reminder of what he lost.

“Is this really what you want?” Kuroo shouted, no longer pulling punches. He stood behind the chair that was across the table from where Kenma was sitting, his hands calmly folded.

“No,” Kenma responded, a maniacal laugh bubbling out of him, “Because unlike you, I’m actually still in love with you, but I have enough self-respect to call it off here.”

“Of course I-“

“Love me?” Kenma asked, “The way you never return my kisses and hesitate with every ‘I love you?’ The way you smile when you’re texting your new coworker?”

“I’m not cheating on you!” Kuroo exclaimed, “I’m allowed to have friends!”

“I didn’t say you were cheating on me,” Kenma said, his eyes welling with tears, “Just that you don’t love me anymore and I’m not gonna sit here and pretend I’m okay going on like this.”

“Kenma-“

“Go ahead,” Kenma said, staring him down, even as the tears leaked out of the corner of his eyes, “Tell me you feel something other than shock right now. Tell me you don’t feel any relief that I’m ending it here. Go on. Do it then.”

Kuroo could no longer hold the eye contact. He shivered, staring down at the ground. He shuffled to the door, grabbing his coat before heading outside. He couldn’t tell Kenma either of those things.

They simply weren’t true.

Kuroo regimented his life. There was no more time for moping around. He had to move on. The breakup had been so long ago that the lingering agony was just pathetic. He was studious, waking at the same time every day, going to the gym, eating breakfast and then either going to work or finding something productive to do. His diet was carefully calculated besides the liquor he had as a regular treat. He always made sure to clean every single day and got a good eight hours of sleep. There was no room for any funny business and definitely no room for a silly game about cats.

And yet, he still felt terrible. The absence of Kenma’s mark may very well have been permanent.

He switched the treadmill to a different mode. It was time to inject some impulsivity into his life and do the cardio instead of endurance training program. Thankfully, his gym had just installed new fans, so it was much easier to run as hard as he could without overheating.

Kenma was panting hard, spitting on the ground as he went.

“Stay on the track,” Kuroo said, slowly jogging to keep Kenma’s pace, “It’s dark and I don’t need you spraining an ankle.”

Kenma ran off the track and into the grass. Kuroo sighed.

“Maybe- maybe the fucking- the fucking third years won’t keep making me do these- these- fucking penalty laps if I break something.”

Kuroo frowned and veered into the grass, following Kenma.

“Do you really hate it that much?”

Kenma froze and turned to look at him. It was hard to tell but it looked like there were tears in his eyes.

“What do you fucking think?” he asked, shaking his head before taking off on his jog again.

“Why don’t we stop and talk about this for a minute?” Kuroo asked, starting to jog after him.

“Because your senpais are- they’re watching through the windows,” Kenma huffed, “And if I stop, I just- they give me more to run.”

Kuroo bit his tongue.

He turned the incline of the treadmill higher and higher, until each step started to jar his calf muscles. He deserved the pain. He deserved much more than that.

He stared at the screen that was asking for his passcode. He wasn’t going to play the game. The fact that he even went to the webpage was absolutely ridiculous.

He could just look at the game though. It was adorable, the little box for the passcode surrounded by the paw prints bouncing around. Now that he was actually paying attention, he noticed that one set was slightly bigger than the other. They were really well animated. Even though it was just the prints, Kuroo felt like he could see the cats running or bounding or slinking about.

He typed the passcode, their anniversary, into the box. It was a delicately made game, beautiful and full of effort in every frame. It would be a waste to not play. It was clearly their story so it wasn’t like anyone else was playing it. It was practically his duty to indulge in the art, letting it be heard after it was locked away for so long.

He could play it just for the excellent gameplay; It had nothing to do with his relationship to Kenma. It was just to enjoy the art.

He decided to tackle the first quest he saw, a little girl playing by the shore. He clicked on her to see tears and a broken tetherball rope appear in neon sketching.

He figured this one would be easy. The girl wanted the tetherball back. He swished through the sand all the way down the shoreline looking for a ball in the water. He didn’t see one, but he did notice a few other things littered across the beach.

An abandoned blue and green striped beach towel got his attention.

Kenma straddled him, jostling his sunglasses in the process.

He started kissing his boyfriend playfully, little pecks here and there and a humorous amount of tongue. It didn’t end there, quickly turning into deep passionate kisses as Kuroo’s hands held on to either side of Kenma’s waist.

“Kenma,” Kuroo said against his lips.

“Mhm,” Kenma hummed, teasingly grinding his hips.

“I love you, and I do in fact wanna bang,” he said, “But I really don’t want to get sand in my asshole.”

“Coward,” Kenma said, leaning down to suck at his boyfriend’s neck.

“Oh, please,” Kuroo started, “I think-“

“What the fuck is your guys’ problem?” a woman yelled, startling them both, “This is a public fucking beach, not a goddamn sex club!”

Kenma scrambled off of Kuroo, his cheeks red from something more than the light sunburn he’d sustained during their more family friendly activities on the beach that morning.

There hadn’t been anyone there for hours and they found a very secluded area, but apparently, and unfortunately, they were no longer alone.

Kuroo looked up at him, panicked, and they quickly packed up their stuff, rather embarrassed.

It wasn’t until after their hasty exit did they realize they left their towel out on the beach. It was gone by the time they went back for it.

He continued prowling the shore, but couldn’t for the life of him find the ball, so he wandered back into the town center, looking to start another quest and maybe find a hint along the way.

He approached the next shimmering thing he saw, a girl with a cheerleading uniform. He clicked on her.

Around her appeared sketches of snipping a wire and a speech bubble with laughter was scrawled next to her head.

Kuroo figured it out pretty quick. This one was surely related to the other one. She cut the line on the tetherball and stole it.

Kuroo looked out his window in defeat. Those asshole kids were messing with his football net again. It wasn’t even a nice football net. It was an old shitty one they’d brought with them when they moved, but for some reason, the boys in the class above him kept messing with it.

If he were back at his old school, he’d go yell at them, but the idea of standing up to these kids was terrifying, so he just watched as it happened.

“What’s your issue?” a low voice called to the boys. Kenma immediately walked over into Kuroo’s yard and approached them, “Just go away.”

“What’s wrong, Kozume-tan? It’s not even your net,” the tallest boy said, rolling his eyes as he took the scissors to it.

Kenma put himself in between the boy and the net and took a sharp punch to the nose. He fell back into the net and grabbed at his face.

Kuroo wanted to do something but he was frozen still.

He was only able to breathe again once Kuroo’s other neighbor came outside and gave the boys a talking to.

Konekuro, aided by Kuroo, wandered around the area, looking for the ball, before coming to the realization.

He went back to the cheerleader and clicked on her enormous pink backpack.

The cut scene began with Konekuro hissing at the girl, who panicked and dropped the bag. The cat then nuzzled into the bag, dragging the ball out by the remainder of the string. He sprinted back to the shoreline and brought it to the girl who grinned and took it from him, attempting to reattach it to the pole.

‘Quest for Restoration: Complete! You can find Konekenma on the top of the parking deck. He will give you a prize.’

Kuroo did just that, finding his way up to the top of the parking garage.

‘Hello! I’m Konekenma! I can see everything that goes on in this town. I can lend some insight into whatever you’re working on and I have things to give you once you finish each task.’

Kuroo clicked on the correct option, swearing this would be the end of it. He wasn’t going to keep playing. He really wasn’t.

‘You completed Quest for Restoration! Here is a token of my appreciation! Also, thanks for stopping by! I love you.’

A small yellow heart appeared next to the one he’d gotten for the first task. When he hovered over it, all it said was ‘is’. Unsurprisingly, clicking on it did nothing at all.

He closed out of the game and rubbed his eyes. It was long past his bedtime.

Chapter Text

Kuroo had in fact seen Kenma on the news a few times, his face splattered across all of the TVs in the storefronts; It was inevitable. In the year since they’d split, both Bouncing Ball and Kodzuken’s streaming career had taken off.

“So we’ve heard you’re a rags to riches story,” an interviewer asked him, “What advice do you have for us in transforming our finances?”

“I wouldn’t say rags to riches. I mean, I was having trouble keeping up with rent, but that was only because I was pouring all of my income into Bouncing Ball,” he said, “I was never in rags.”

“Cute pies for my cutie pie!” Kuroo said, walking into the guest bedroom Kenma used as an office.

He had seen a recipe for a chicken pot pie and figured it’d make a good dinner.

Kenma glanced back at him.

“Oh, for sure, I see the hidden door animation,” Kenma said with a laugh as he returned his attention to the computer.

Something Kuroo couldn’t even name broke within him.

“Are you fucking streaming again?”

Kenma looked panicked as he shut the stream off abruptly.

“You’re going to get me demonetized,” he warned, taking off his headphones and turning around in his chair.

“Cry about it.”

The success of Kenma’s streaming career meant nothing to him. It wasn’t a career. It was a time-waster or, at best, an extreme hobby.

“You don’t need to be an asshole,” Kenma said, crossing his arms.

“I made dinner for you because you’re busy and you’re actually just fucking off to play video games.”

“Well, I’m sorry,” Kenma said, “But streaming brings in money and it gets the company exposure. We have to pay the rent somehow.”

Kenma‘s streams would never be a solid enough income to pay groceries, nevertheless their slowly increasing rent.

“Why don’t you get a real job and admit that Bouncy Balls is never going to become a reality?” Kuroo asked, strutting over to the desk and setting Kenma’s pie down.

The smiley face made out of the extra crust was hilariously out of place.

“Bouncing Ball,” Kenma corrected, “You don’t even listen to me enough to know what my company is called.”

“Okay, well, regardless of that, what advice do you have for the youth of today?”

Kuroo couldn’t help but stare at Kenma. Almost all of the bleach was gone from his hair. It only just barely appeared in the bottom few inches of his hair and he was wearing a pair of glasses that admittedly framed his face well. He looked- he looked- happy.

“It gets better,” Kenma said, staring directly into the camera, “For all of you out there who feel like you’ve lost your way, it’ll get better. I promise.”

It was like an inspirational movie come to life, but Kuroo didn’t recognize the actor.

Kenma was making him very nervous. What was it that he needed to say? Why couldn’t he just say it? Was he ending their relationship?

“I, uh,” Kenma started, squeezing his latte cup, “I’m seeing a psychiatrist tomorrow.”

Wait, what? That was all Kenma had to tell him? Not that he didn’t like stopping by the coffee shop and going for a walk, but that was far too much pretense for the situation.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, wrapping his arms around Kenma and giving him a good squeeze, “I’m proud of you.”

“You’re what?” Kenma asked, pulling back.

“I know how hard making that appointment must have been,” Kuroo stressed, “I’m proud of you.”

Kuroo frowned at the screen and then figured anyone who was watching him scowl at the kind millionaire who was giving an inspiring statement to the press probably thought he was an absolute jackass.

He wanted to grab Kenma by the shoulders and shake him. Kenma said everyone could get better. Why wasn’t Kuroo, himself, getting better, then?

Every day without Kenma just made him worse. He couldn’t imagine getting better without him, but reuniting was clearly out of the picture. He could look, but not touch, the new Kenma, and he couldn’t do either with the old Kenma, but fester in the memories as he rotted away.

Kuroo was attempting to continue his strict, highly productive routine, so he went through his inbox, teeming with a few hundred unread emails. Surely there wouldn’t be any landmines in there.

He scrolled through and an email from the game design club at his alma mater caught his eye. They were asking for monetary donations to launch student projects. They needed startup funds for coders. They needed funds for traveling to competitions. They needed to be able to pay consultants.

Some of the projects were in fact cool, but they were all from fourth years (or even post-graduates) with hordes of assistants helping them, so he didn’t care about the painfully complicated full length fantasy games or the ones with the groundbreaking three dimensional graphics.

He only cared about Kenma’s.

He walked quickly through the showcase, looking for his best friend- actually, his new boyfriend- in a less populated section of the activity hall. He was sure that as a first year Kenma would have a smaller table and not really anyone to visit it.

He figured that was why Kenma didn’t invite him. Kenma was embarrassed to have his small side scroller compared to these games that were achieving national acclaim. That was exactly why Kuroo showed up, bouquet of flowers in hand, to play-test the game. With hardly any resources, Kenma’s side scroller featuring two birds avoiding obstacles was damn impressive. He could hardly imagine the things Kenma could do if he had an entire company at his disposal.

“Kuro?” a voice from behind him called.

He turned around to see Kenma with his laptop out and little business cards he must have had printed. Kuroo’s heart burst in his chest. Kenma was adorable and Kuroo couldn’t wait to see his games be beloved across the world. They would be one day. He wasn’t sure of anything more than he was sure of that.

With a sappy smile on his face, he handed Kenma the flowers.

“I’d take a business card but I don’t want to steal someone important’s opportunity to work with you,” Kuroo told him.

Kenma blushed, trying to cover his face with his hand.

“I, I’m sorry for not telling you,” Kenma said, “I just, uh-“

“I know,” Kuroo said, already clicking into the game, “You’re worried it isn’t going to be cool compared to all of these ridiculously funded projects, but I bet it's gonna be even better.”

He deleted the email and then resignedly pulled up a certain game with symbolic cats. He told himself he wasn’t going to keep playing, but he wanted to throw himself back into that memory, when the two of them were happy.

Konekuro pawed his way into a house with a shimmer surrounding it. He hopped around the different rooms looking for someone to help.

Finally, he walked in on a girl who was in a disaster of a room, clothes thrown about everywhere. When he clicked on her, a panicked expression was drawn over her face and a boy holding a bouquet of flowers was next to her.

Kuroo knew exactly what he needed to do.

Kuroo glanced at his watch and was confused. What was taking Kenma so long? It was their first real date so hopefully he wasn’t in there panicking. He grabbed the handle of Kenma’s doorknob and turned it, walking into Kenma’s dorm in the hopes of stopping an anxiety swirl.

He managed to startle Kenma, who was in the process of unfolding a pair of pants to put on, clothes strewn around him, all over the floor. Kuroo was sputtering, speechless.

He’d seen Kenma in various states of undress for years in locker rooms or the occasional sleepover, but now it was like a switch had turned on in his brain, looking at Kenma as his boyfriend instead of just a boy who was a friend, and this boyfriend, was shirtless and only in his underwear.

“I, uh-“ Kuroo said, intelligently.

“I’m sorry,” Kenma said, ducking his head, “I know I should have been ready sooner, but I couldn’t figure out what to wear and I’m nervous because I don’t wanna mess anything up.”

He looked like he was on the verge of tears.

Kuroo recovered, grabbing an emerald green button down from the floor, handing it to Kenma.

“You always look so good in this one,” Kuroo said, trying to get Kenma to look at him, “It’s no worry if you’re a few minutes late. I’m not in a hurry.”

Kenma caught Kuroo absolutely off guard by hugging him, squeezing him hard.

“Thank you.”

He moused around the room looking at the different clothing options and decided to click on an emerald green dress.

He smiled as the cutscene began.

The cat grabbed it in his mouth and dragged the dress out from a pile, leaving it at the girl's feet. She paused, looking at it for a second before picking it up and hugging it to her chest with a smile. The view then cut to a boy knocking on the door, surely excited to see his date.

‘Project Runway: Complete! You can find Konekenma on the top of the parking deck. He will give you a prize.’

Kuroo smiled at the game and then decided to complete another quest that night. Playing it at all was already questionable and inappropriate, so he may as well overdo it while he was at it. He was going to feel the guilt in the morning regardless.

He figured he could go get his heart from Konekenma after he finished another quest. He told himself it was to be efficient, but in actuality, he was hoping that he would only have to see ‘I love you’ once that night. He could only take so much emotional damage in such a short period of time.

He slinked around to the city center and wandered into a small shop. There, he saw a woman shimmering slightly and clicked on her accordingly.

The only things that appeared were sketches of broken hearts and tears. Konekuro wandered around the store looking for a possible lover, but nothing he clicked on worked.

Kuroo was pretending he wasn’t paying any attention to Kenma, but he couldn’t help it. His poor arms were struggling to move all of the boxes out and into his old car.

“Can I help?” Kuroo asked him, a voice hardly above a whisper.

When he looked closer at Kenma, he saw that he was crying, tears dripping down his face.

“This might be the worst day of my life,” Kenma admitted, bringing the sleeve of his sweatshirt up to wipe his eyes, “I don’t know how I’m supposed to go about the rest of my life like this.”

Kuroo thought it was a bit of an overreaction. There had to have been billions of times people lived through that.

“I meant the boxes,” Kuroo said, wildly uncomfortable, “I can help you carry them.”

“No,” Kenma said, sarcastically laughing through the tears, “I don’t want help moving out of my ex-“

Kenma’s voice caught on the word and he started to sob harder. Kuroo had no idea what to do, so he just stood there, frozen. He was used to cynical, sarcastic Kenma. He was also used to bringing out that Kenma. He was not used, however, to not caring.

He was at a bit of a loss as he plodded around the grocery store, trying to figure out what the woman needed. His heart sank and he wondered if she needed to buy boxes because she was moving out.

No, that couldn’t have been it. Right? Kenma wouldn’t have kept making this after they broke up. That would have made no sense at all. It was a sweet story of their love, so why would he sour it?

Gingerly, he found where the moving supplies were and clicked on them. He let out a sigh of relief when nothing happened. He wasn’t sure why he cared so much. Maybe it was the sanctity of his false reality.

The reality where Kuroo and Kenma still loved each other.

But that reality was no longer reality, and Kuroo was the one to blame.

He took a minute to pause, practicing breathing techniques he’d learned years ago to calm his heart and mind during a volleyball game. He was certain his old coach would be dumbfounded at the stupid reality Kuroo was living in.

“Coach,” Kuroo said, his voice nervous.

“Mhm?” Nekomata hummed, a sly smile on his face.

Kuroo took a deep breath.

“I know Kenma hasn’t been doing well at tryouts- like at all- but he’s a really good player, you know? He’s small and physically weak, but he’s so much more than that. All of these strength based exercises have nothing to do with what makes him good. He’s smart and he knows how to think about the game and he really is technically gifted and we know all of these trick plays already and.”

He realized that the coach wasn’t going to interrupt him, so he shut his mouth in the middle of the sentence. He said what he needed to say and now the coach would tell him what he needed to hear.

“Cut Kenma? Why? To lose both my future captain and my upcoming star setter? You don’t take me as a fool, do you?” Nekomata asked, folding his hands on his desk.

Kuroo didn’t say anything about quitting if Kenma didn’t make the team.

“Wh-“

His mouth was still forming the first word in the question by the time Nekomata spoke again.

“Have a little faith in your friend. He’s good in his own right. You don’t need to speak for him. He is doing plenty fine on his own.”

He sighed, reconsidering the moving boxes angle. He then thought the quest may simply be Kenma’s sense of humor, so he decided to go literal and find heartburn medicine. Kenma used to get heartburn so Kuroo knew the things that helped besides his prescription. He walked around the store trying to find them.

Kuroo was trying to get some work done, but it was hard not to be distracted by Kenma, who was, for lack of a better descriptor, just throwing shit around in their bedroom.

“What is happening right now?” Kuroo asked, turning to face the tornado tearing apart the room.

“I can’t find something,” Kenma grumbled, throwing things everywhere.

Clothing was hurled into walls and papers ended up all over the floor. The room was already a mess and this absolutely was not helping them achieve their goal of keeping their bedroom somewhat clean.

“Hey, hey,” Kuroo said, gently, “I can help you find it.”

“You fucking better,” Kenma snapped, “You’re probably the reason I can’t find it.”

“Kenma!” Kuroo chirped back, “Find what?“

“My fucking heartburn meds!” Kenma exclaimed, overturning the box on their nightstand, “You probably fucking moved them again!”

Kuroo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I didn’t touch your meds,” he said, calmly, “But if you take a second to breathe, and stop fucking yelling, I’ll help you look for them.”

“Don’t tell me to breathe, you asshole! I am obviously fucking breathing. Can’t live if I’m not breathing. Don’t need my fucking meds if I’m not breathing.”

Kenma’s breathing only got more ragged. Kuroo wasn’t sure if it was intentional or if he genuinely was that far away from getting a grip.

“It’s not worth being this worked up over,” Kuroo pointed out, exasperated, “We can just go buy more, literally right now. It’s also OTC.”

“I’m Kuroo Tetsurou and I’m so fucking mature and calm all the time,” Kenma mimicked, throwing his hands up, “Unlike Kenma who’s always being an overdramatic little bitch.”

“Well you are right now,” Kuroo mumbled under his breath.

Kenma did end up finding the antacids, in his own backpack, exactly where he left them. He did not subsequently issue an apology for accusing Kuroo of losing them.

None of the heartburn cures in the store solved his quest. He wanted to be stubborn about it, possibly clicking around the entire store until he got his answer. He could also even just give up, throwing his computer in the garbage. That was a good secondary option.

Instead, he swallowed his pride and sent his cat up to the top of the parking garage, deeply frowning at his own weakness.

‘Hello! I’m Konekenma! I can see everything that goes on in this town. I can lend some insight into whatever you’re working on and I have things to give you once you finish each task.’

Kuroo decided as his punishment for sucking at the game, he would accept the reward and take whatever psychological damage was passed his way.

‘You completed Project Runway! Here is a token of my appreciation! Also, thanks for stopping by! I love you.’

This time, the prize was a green heart that just had an ‘a’ on it. He intentionally ignored the closing remark from his virtual ex-boyfriend and opened the dialogue again.

‘Hello! I’m Konekenma! I can see everything that goes on in this town. I can lend some insight into whatever you’re working on and I have things to give you once you finish each task.’

‘You’re working on Mission Broken-Hearted. Have you considered What is a good cure for sadness? Also, thanks for stopping by! I love you.’

Kuroo groaned at Konekenma. How many times was Konekenma going to love him? He couldn’t keep surviving that. He didn’t deserve to be loved by Konekenma, though he did deserve to feel that pain, the pain of knowing he was no longer loved, over and over again.

Beyond thoughts of self-flagellation, he did know what he was supposed to do, how to finish the quest. Konekenma’s hint was more than enough to get him there. He made his way back to the virtual store and wandered over to the freezer, clicking on a pint of ice cream.

The cutscene began, and it was a funny one. Konekuro jumped into the freezer that had somehow been opened and brought a pint of strawberry ice cream all the way across the store. It dragged on the ground the entire way there, adorably tilting as it went.

Eventually the woman noticed and picked it up, immediately looking like she was feeling better.

‘Mission Broken-Hearted: Complete! You can find Konekenma on the top of the parking deck. He will give you a prize.’

He followed the direction, allowing Konekenma to shoot him through the heart with another ‘I love you.’ In return for the pain, he received another prize, this time blue, that said, ‘great.’

He wasn’t thinking about the odd string of words he was slowly collecting in the top corner of his screen. He was preoccupied with something else mulling about his head.

“Bad day?” Kuroo asked, already making his way onto the bed next to Kenma.

Kenma nodded, his horribly knotted hair displaced by the movement. He smelled terrible and was surrounded by wadded up paper towels, surely filled with snot.

Kuroo just scooted closer to him, kissing him on the side of his face before having a better idea.

“How about I get you some ice cream?” he asked, placing another kiss, “It might not make you feel better, but it certainly can’t hurt.”

Kenma didn’t quite smile all of the way, but he definitely made an effort to try.

“Thanks,” he croaked out.

Kuroo was haunted by the following question as he quickly closed out of the game:

Just how much ice cream did Kenma end up eating to soothe the pain of their breakup?

Chapter Text

Kuroo hadn’t even fully gained consciousness before he came to the realization that it was going to be one very long, very painful day.

He frowned at his phone, the one telling him that it was October sixteenth.

“I’ll see you later,” Kuroo said, already halfway out the door, “I’m going out with some coworkers.”

Kenma looked hurt, the expression sending a chill through Kuroo. He’d pissed Kenma off quite a bit in a short period of time, but this hurt seemed hot and personal, instead of the normal cool and detached.

“It’s my birthday,” Kenma pointed out, the words hanging in the air.

“I know,” Kuroo said, slowly, “And I wished you a happy birthday this morning. Every year you refuse to celebrate it, so I didn’t think it’d be a big deal.”

Year after year Kuroo tried to have a big party or mini vacation for Kenma’s birthday and he always just said he wasn’t interested. Kenma didn’t even like celebrating his birthday. Why was he being so pissy?

“Whatever,” Kenma said, snapping out of his sadness and into something more pointed, “Go have fun with your friends.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow at him, but then shrugged.

“Sounds good. I’ll catch you later.”

He walked out of the apartment, not looking back. If Kenma wanted to play mind games like a child, telling him to go when he didn’t mean it, then Kenma couldn’t complain when Kuroo actually went. It only seemed fair.

He shuffled out of bed and into the kitchen, making a pot of coffee on autopilot. He briefly debated just not having any caffeine so he could take the day in a general haze, but he determined quickly that he wasn’t that pathetic. He was a grown adult, teeming with emotional maturity. He didn’t need to attempt to zombify himself to get through the day. A voice in the back of his mind pointed out his recent pattern of emotion-based binge drinking, but he did his best to stifle it. Emotional maturity necessarily implies honesty with oneself.

Kuroo glared at his phone, attempting to not think about what a mess he’d become. Was he supposed to wish Kenma a happy birthday? Exes didn’t do that. Right?

”I know it’s not much,” Kuroo admitted as Kenma opened up his present.

It wasn’t an expensive gift and really was just something he picked up at the second hand store, but he was hoping it would be good enough for Kenma. Kenma deserved a lot more, but it was all he could afford.

“Don’t be silly,” Kenma said, clasping the little locket around his neck, “This is the best birthday I’ve ever had.”

Kuroo didn’t particularly understand that. They hadn’t done anything, not a single thing all day. They’d lounged around, playing video games and ordered takeout, sharing both that and a bottle of wine. They did that fairly regularly. It was truly nothing special.

“I love you.”

He didn’t particularly say the words because he was consciously planning on it, but because his body took over. The realization that even the smallest, most mundane moments with Kenma were better than the most extravagant dreams by himself hit him hard. His heart ached.

He loved Kenma so fucking much.

“I love you, too,” Kenma said, his lips curving into a sweet smile, “Now, come here.”

He pulled Kuroo by the shoulders until he was laying on top of him. Kenma brought his lips to Kuroo’s and they kissed, the taste of wine being shared once more.

They stayed like that for hours, lazily kissing in their pajamas, fuzzy socks keeping them warm. They didn’t need expensive trips or lavish parties. Merely loving each other was more than enough. They could do that every day for the rest of their lives and never want for anything. Kuroo couldn’t help but wonder if other people really felt that way. What he had with Kenma was something unique. Something special. It couldn’t be something everyone experienced.

Who cared if they were exes? It was the decent thing to do. He typed out a message and then deleted it. They weren’t in each other’s lives anymore. Then again, they’d known each other longer than most exes. They were neighbors before friends. Friends before lovers. He scrawled the message again before deleting it. Also, he told himself as he rewrote it, the breakup was by no means fresh like Kenma’s last birthday where he didn’t send a text. He deleted it once more.

Kuroo groaned audibly and threw his phone at the couch. It bounced off and hit the floor, landing face down. Something within him flared with anger. He could feel it building pressure in his chest. He would send Kenma an invoice for it if it cracked. It wasn’t like the almighty, rich little celebrity, Kodzuken, couldn’t afford to have it fixed.

The phone apparently hadn’t cracked, but that didn’t stop him from wanting to send Kenma an invoice for it anyway. He imagined the look on Kenma’s face as he opened it, his lips pursed in confusion at the odd point of contact. Kuroo told himself that the fantasy was enjoyable because he wanted to spite Kenma, not because he wanted to see Kenma again. That would be pathetic.

He sighed deeply and wondered what led him to that point, fantasizing about ridiculous ways to even just speak to his other half. How had he let Kenma tear himself out of Kuroo’s life?

Kuroo liked to think that he could do it all again and not let Kenma go, but he knew that wouldn’t work. The Kuroo who let Kenma walk out the door was the Kuroo who didn’t love him anymore. It wasn’t a skill issue. It was a lack of desire.

”So, you single?” Kuroo’s coworker asked, “I wanna be forward here. I’m into you, hardcore.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Kuroo said, the words heavy in his mouth.

He wasn’t going to cheat. He had no desire to do so, nor did he even like his coworker like that, but lately, acknowledging that Kenma was his boyfriend felt like a drag.

“Do you like your boyfriend?” His coworker asked, his eyebrows shooting up before finishing the thought, “I’m just messing with you. I’m not surprised you have someone to love.”

It took Kuroo far too long to search his brain for the answer to the mostly rhetorical question.

“Uh, yeah,” Kuroo said, suddenly feeling nauseous. 

“Anyway, sorry if I made things weird, but the social media team is having a bonfire tomorrow. You should come hang out with us.”

He did have tentative plans to play some video games with Kenma, but this seemed more pressing. He could play video games with Kenma any day. It wasn’t like it was the first, or even hundredth, time they’d ever done it.

“For sure.”

The Kuroo who let Kenma walk out the door had walked away from the relationship months before Kenma even turned to leave.

Kuroo did his absolute best to go through his day without hearing anything about Kodzuken’s birthday fundraiser. He definitely didn’t keep running into the tweets about his many volleyball player friends visiting his stream, the ones Kuroo knew intimately well through his work. Or hear two fans talking about the stream in line in the grocery store. Or see a news story written up about the charity he was supporting. Or have the stream recommended to him while he was looking to do literally anything else.

Really, it wasn’t even just the birthday fundraiser. The mere fact that it was Kenma’s birthday just made every single thing that Kenma touched in his life become more salient, which was objectively stupid. It was a day that years ago Kenma was born on. Why would that have an effect on his current day?

In a move to run away from his memories of Kenma, he got in his car, prepared to drive anywhere but where he was, desperately hoping he could drive fast enough to leave his brain behind. At least if he was driving, he wouldn’t be bombarded with talk of the stream.

Not long into the drive, he began to realize that it was much colder outside than he thought, and he didn’t bring a jacket. He instinctively turned on his heated steering wheel cover to keep his fingers warm.

”They make heated covers,” Kenma pointed out, laughing at the fact that Kuroo was jamming his hands between his thighs at every red light.

“I don’t need to spend money on something stupid when my thighs do the trick.”

Kenma coughed out something, but Kuroo couldn’t make out what he said over the music.

“What?” Kuroo asked, bringing one of his hands up from his thigh crevasse to the steering wheel.

“If your thighs are so warm,” Kenma said through a laugh, “How about I use them as earmuffs?”

Kuroo laughed, rolling his eyes.

“That joke is older than earmuffs.”

He made a mental note to look up when ear muffs were actually invented.

“In all seriousness, though, you should get a heated steering wheel cover,” Kenma told him, “It’s more comfortable that way. Plus, you can actually keep your hands on the wheel. Comfort and safety, the dynamic duo.”

“I don’t need a steering wheel cover,” Kuroo insisted, and the conversation dropped entirely.

They were saving up money for a down payment on a house. Frivolous things like steering wheel covers didn’t fit in their grand plan. Paying their bills was hard enough as it was.

Kuroo frowned and turned off the heated cover. He could have cold hands. He tried not to think about the fact that the two of them never ended up putting together a down payment on a house together.

They’d broken up before they got to that point.

He figured that Kenma probably lived in a house by himself now. He could easily afford both a mortgage and a stupid steering wheel cover. Hell, based on all of the things he saw about Bouncing Ball in the news, Kenma could probably buy a steering wheel cover for most of the inhabitants of Tokyo in an unconventional giveaway event- anything for his fans. Oh how Kodzuken loved his fans.

Kuroo quirked his eyebrows up when Kenma handed him a shoddily wrapped gift box. It wasn’t his birthday, or an anniversary, or Valentine’s Day, or anything like that. It was just a plain ol’ Tuesday.

It wasn’t super out of character for Kenma to pick him up something while he was out and about, but they’d been on a saving kick lately, keeping purchases to the minimum.

“Thank you,” Kuroo said, grabbing the box and gently pulling off the wrapping.

“Of course,” Kenma said with a smile, reaching up to ruffle his hair.

The gift was a heated steering wheel cover. Kuroo frowned.

“I said I didn’t need one of these,” Kuroo pointed out, staring at the box in his hands.

“Sure, but I don’t want you getting into an accident because your hands aren’t on the wheel,” Kenma explained. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a drink for the both of them.

“This could have gone towards the house,” Kuroo said, quietly.

“Would you chill?” Kenma asked, handing him a drink, “It was literally on clearance.”

“But-“

“I used some of my tips from the cafe,” Kenma continued, “Which I believe we agreed could be pocket cash.”

“Well, yeah, but like for you,” Kuroo said, “To spend on stuff you want. Not stuff for me.”

Kenma grabbed his free hand.

“Yeah, and I want you to be safe,” Kenma said, placing a kiss on his hand, “And have comfy hands.”

At the end of the day, he sighed, pulling up the game he’d been putting off all day. It was reasonable for him to play a quest or two to honor the developer on his birthday, or something like that. He certainly wasn’t the only one playing one of Kenma’s games for that reason, but he was certainly the only one playing that specific game. He also certainly wasn’t playing as a way to get a persistent thought out of his head. Did Kenma fret this much about Kuroo’s birthday? More than that, would he fret about a month from then at Kuroo’s next birthday? 

It’s not like it mattered anyway. He would never find out. The mountain of hurt between them prevented any and all contact.

Konekuro’s first order of business was to go to the beach. Kuroo hadn’t been there in his last few runs of the game and wanted to do a quest in that area for no other reason than the developer did a good job with the background, or something like that.

He passed a few quest options on the way there, but he was really feeling the beach. Plus, the game said he could do things in whatever order he wanted, so it wasn’t like it particularly mattered.

”We gotta do it,” Kuroo said, laughing.

Even in the low light of the sunset, he could see the twinkle in Kenma’s eyes, in spite of how much he was protesting.

“Cringe,” Kenma responded, barely suppressing a laugh.

He hooked his arm into Kuroo’s and they walked down the beach, enjoying the colors of the sunset and the feeling of wet sand under their feet.

“Maybe we should stay here forever,” Kuroo whispered.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kenma said, throwing his body weight into Kuroo.

It worked, somewhat, Kuroo stumbling to the side, pulling Kenma with him. Kuroo unlinked their arms and looked at his boyfriend.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ll have to take a shit eventually,” Kenma said with a shrug, “So it seems a bit poorly planned. I don’t wanna shit on the beach. Nothing to wipe with. Maybe if we had a bathroom and an outlet, then we could stay here forever.”

“Oh my god,” Kuroo said, slinging his arms around Kenma. He placed a kiss on his forehead, trying his best not to laugh, “I despise you.”

“I love you, too.”

Sure enough, there was a quest waiting for him, an old man hanging out by the shore. He was just standing there, not particularly doing anything, which was why Kuroo was alarmed at what appeared when he clicked on the man.

The neon sketching, instead of showing cute little doodles, was just big lines across the screen, obscuring most of the view.

Once he got over the original shock though, he knew exactly what was happening. It wasn’t something he was ever going to forget.

Kuroo sent a huge splash of saltwater at his boyfriend, who didn’t particularly react either way. Normally he whined or threw a wave back, just he just stared blankly ahead.

“It’s hotter than satan’s asshole,” Kuroo pointed out, “Let me know when you wanna dry off and get drinks.”

Kenma didn’t respond. He was just standing there in the water, shifting his weight and still looking off in the distance.

Kuroo was really hoping he wasn’t thinking about work. The point of the vacation was to take a break from the endless stream of odd jobs they’d both picked up to make ends meet.

“Kenma, I said it’s-“

Suddenly, Kenma fell backwards, the entirety of his body dipping below the water. Was he really trying that hard to ignore Kuroo? Kenma could be such an asshole sometimes.

Confused, Kuroo swam over to him and pulled on his arm, dragging him above the water. Kenma started coughing and sputtering and Kuroo wrapped an arm around him.

“Hey, hey,” Kuroo said, “Are you alright?”

Kenma just continued to cough so Kuroo picked him up, swinging him into his arms to carry back to shore.

“Something is wrong,” Kenma coughed into his neck.

Now even more urgently, Kuroo moved through the water, wishing he was on land so it wouldn’t slow him down so much.

“Do you have medical training?” Kuroo asked the lifeguard who had clearly noticed something was going on and started walking in their direction.

“Yeah, bring him over here,” he said, ushering them to a shaded area.

Kuroo sat Kenma down in one of the chairs, frowning. Something was wrong with his baby. Fear began to constrict his lungs but he knew he had to stay calm.

“We were swimming and he just like went under the water and I grabbed him. He definitely inhaled some water.”

Kenma coughed on cue, nodding.

“How much have you had to drink today?” the lifeguard asked him, pressing the back of his hand to Kenma’s forehead.

“Nothing,” Kenma said, pressing his fist to his sternum.

“I didn’t mean alcohol,” the man said, “Just in general. What have you eaten and drank today?”

“Nothing.”

The lifeguard‘s eyes widened.

“It’s way too hot out here for that,” he said, “You probably overheated your already malnourished body. When you feel good to stand, go sit in the cold somewhere and eat something and drink a lot of water.”

“Okay, thank you,” Kenma said, his voice horse, “Anything else?”

The man shook his head.

“I’m going back to my post. Come get me if you need anything.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo said after the lifeguard was out of earshot, “No wonder you overheated.”

How irresponsible. A child should have known better than that.

“Looks like I have something in common with your shitty ass laptop.”

“Glad to see you’re feeling a bit better.”

Kuroo clicked on the digital lifeguard and the cutscene started. He figured Konekuro would go steal the lifeguard’s raft but instead he just meowed at the top of his lungs over and over. It was rather shocking since the rest of the game had no music whatsoever, and downright hilarious. More than that, it was exactly Kenma’s sense of humor. His heart ached.

Kuroo laughed, despite the situation, and watched as the lifeguard came over and helped out the old man, bringing him into the shade.

‘Operation Overheated: Complete! You can find Konekenma on the top of the parking deck. He will give you a prize.’

“Yeah, yeah,” Kuroo said.

He felt like being given the same instructions each time wasn't really necessary. Did Kenma really think he was that dumb?

Kuroo was about to be fresh out of marbles by the time they declared time of death on their date night. The atmosphere seemed particularly tense to the point that Kuroo had to insist multiple times that he actually wanted to play video games- he was just bad at them.

In his anxiety over causing another fight with Kenma, he died again and Kenma came over to revive him.

“Again,” Kenma said, pointedly, “You need to keep casting resistance to fire and stack it with protection from fire or you’re going to keep dying.”

He knew that, of course, but the game was so damn complicated. It certainly wasn’t for beginners and Kenma leveling his character for him so he skipped the early quests was not helping. The early quests were there for a reason.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. I forgot.”

Kenma took a deep breath and they continued along. Kuroo was unsure why Kenma couldn’t keep him alive. Kenma was playing a healer, after all. It was literally his job to keep Kuroo alive. He also knew that both fire resistance spells were also in Kenma’s spell book.

Kuroo went along, stressing because Kenma was stressed. He focused on his gameplay and made sure to pick up all of the loose treasure so he could get better equipment to help him die less.

“Trap,” Kenma warned, buffing himself before running through it.

Kuroo followed him through. The screen went black and the speakers dinged loudly, indicating that Kuroo had died once more. Kenma shut the game off immediately and stood up, tossing his controller on the couch.

“Really mature,” Kuroo said, pulling out his phone.

“Oh my fucking god,” Kenma said, “I told you multiple times to double stack fire protection and warned that there was a trap. I do not want to play with someone who can’t complete these basic tasks.”

“I was out of spell points,” Kuroo explained, reading through his email.

He knew the argument wasn’t going to work- Kenma could restore some of his spell points- but it wasn’t like he was trying to outwit Kenma, so it really didn’t matter.

“I have both spells equipped,” Kenma said, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I would have cast it if I knew, but I can’t possibly keep track of how much IRL time passes while in a dungeon to know when you need to be rebuffed.”

“You’re a healer,” Kuroo pointed out, “Honestly, the fact that I died like eight times in that dungeon is pretty much on you entirely.”

“Ugh,” Kenma grunted, his hand on the doorknob, ready to leave, “I can’t possibly heal a player who can’t communicate to save his life.”

A mirthless laugh crossed Kuroo’s lips without his permission, and so did the words he said next.

“Ironic. That’s how I feel about being in a relationship with you.”

Kuroo sighed audibly at the memory and directed Konekuro to Konekenma. Might as well get the ‘I love you’ out of the way while he was already emotional. He clicked through the dialogue prompt to get his prize and inevitable emotional damage.

‘You completed Overture Overheated! Here is a token of my appreciation! Also, thanks for stopping by! I love you.’

An orange heart appeared, the word ‘day’ written on it. He took a second to try to figure out what was going on with the prizes. He hovered over them one by one.

Today. is. a. great. day.

Oh.

”Hey, Kenma?” Kuroo asked, staring blankly at the form he was filling out. He was hunched over, using the kitchen counter to write on.

“Mhm?” Kenma hummed, turning around from where he was drying the dishes.

“What’s today?” Kuroo asked, signing his name and hovering the pen over the date line.

“Today,” Kenma said, grabbing his boyfriend’s ass, “Is a great day to be loving you.”

“I meant the date.”

Kenma seemed to take a second to think about that.

“How about tonight at seven,” he ventured, “We can go for fondue and drinks.”

Kuroo gently bonked him on the head with the pen.

“What is today’s date so I can put it on the form?”

“Fondue…” Kenma said, slowly, “I literally just said that. You know, where you dip the things into a melted sauce of some kind. It’s weird that the university needs that information for you to file for graduation, though.”

“My phone is in the other room charging,” Kuroo lamented, “What is today?”

Kenma snorted.

“A great day to be loving you.”

Chapter Text

Kuroo was having one of those days at work. The JVA building’s air conditioning was broken and it was approximately the temperature of the sun, give or take a few degrees. He wasn’t quite sure how it got so hot- it wasn’t even that warm outside- but he determined it must be happening just to spite him. God forbid he live one day in peace. Well, one day in a slightly less unpeaceful state of mind than normal.

Being that he was able to hide in a small focus room, he unbuttoned his dress shirt and slid it off of his shoulders. Wearing just a tank top was very against the dress code, but he was far more against sweating through his dress shirt. Desperate times called for desperate measures.

His brief respite was disturbed not minutes later when someone walked directly into the room, not bothering to knock, and scaring the living daylights out of him.

“Holy shit,” Kuroo said, scrambling to pull his buttondown back up and over his shoulders, “Sorry, I didn’t hear you coming.”

His momentary stress loosened when he saw that the unwanted visitor was his friend from the social media team. The man definitely wouldn’t report him to HR for inappropriate work wear. They regularly got up to conversations that would be HR’s worst nightmare. The nude shoulders paled in comparison.

“Aye man, no worries. You look much better with less on,” the man said, “But I actually came bearing gifts.”

Kuroo smiled at him. He’d considered asking the man out multiple times since his breakup, but he wasn’t ready to move on from Kenma yet. Maybe one day he’d get there, but until then, their heavy flirting would pass the time.

“Sweet,” Kuroo said, “I may take even more off if your gift is worth the time.”

Kuroo’s friend handed him a thermos that was clearly meant for a young girl. He knew for a fact his friend didn’t have kids, so he wondered if he stole the pink container covered in peace signs from a niece or a perhaps young cousin.

“You aren’t driving, are you?” the coworker asked.

“Uh, no,” Kuroo said, cracking open the thermos to reveal cold beer, “Excellent. Thanks, man.”

Kuroo could always count on him to be a lot of fun. He teasingly lifted up his tank top from the hem in recompense. It was a pretty good gift.

”Have fun?” Kenma asked from the couch.

He appeared to be doing exactly nothing except waiting for Kuroo to get back.

“Hell, yeah,” Kuroo said, “We went out for drinks, then we went bowling, then we went to a bonfire, then we got ice cream. Thank god for awesome coworkers.”

Work was work so it was always going to be awful, but having some interesting projects and cool people went a long way towards making it bearable.

“Awesome,” Kenma said, flatly.

Kenma’s face was emotionless, but Kuroo could tell that the lack of displayed emotion was because he was actively hiding it, not because it wasn’t there.

“What’s your issue?” Kuroo asked, crossing his arms.

He didn’t want to play these mind games. Why couldn’t Kenma just say the things he wanted to say?

“You’re never home anymore,” Kenma said, staring at the wall, “Might as well be dating a ghost.”

“That’s because you refuse to come with,” Kuroo pointed out.

“Shouldn’t have to go with other people if I want to see my boyfriend.”

It wasn’t Kuroo’s fault Kenma never wanted to do anything fun. All he ever did was work, play video games, and sleep. Kuroo’s coworkers knew how to have fun and liked having fun, so obviously he spent more time with them. They were much better at passing the time than Kenma.

“Then don’t complain about me being a ghost,” Kuroo said, “I like doing fun things. They do fun things with me.”

“Sorry that all I have to give you is my love,” Kenma spat, each and every word shaped like a barb.

“We’re seeing a movie this weekend,” Kuroo said, “Wanna come?”

“I’m going to bed.”

“No problem at all,” his friend said with a laugh, “I can’t believe they won’t let us go home. This is a human rights violation.”

“Same,” Kuroo said, pressing a long sigh out of his chest.

“You know, I heard Nekoma got into the Spring Tournament,” he said, “That’s where you went. Yeah?”

“Oh really? I should tell-“

Kenma.

For a while, Kuroo had wanted to go into sports medicine. He took a class or two and then decided it wasn’t for him, but he did pick up quite a bit of knowledge about it in that short amount of time.

Those courses were how he knew about phantom limb pain. He could never quite wrap his head around it in class, but now, his brain appeared to be forgetting that one of his limbs was lopped off and kept trying to use it, so he finally understood the concept completely. His brain’s effort of using that absent limb only led to a bloody stump and the excruciating pain of memories no longer.

At least that’s how he felt when his brain would briefly forget that Kozume Kenma was no longer a part of him. He was Kuroo’s phantom limb.

He wished his brain would let it be a clean cut, and let the unusable neural pathways disintegrate, but instead, it sent out all sorts of messages, only to be promptly returned to sender with a sour taste in his mouth.

”Kenma.”

“Mhm?” he hummed, exhaustedly walking through the dark city.

“You were incredible today,” Kuroo said, shortening his pace to make sure Kenma wasn’t struggling to keep up.

“Oh, please,” Kenma said, “You’re the middle that had to play the entire game. You’re the one who was incredible.”

Kuroo paused for a moment to think about that. Kenma was right- the ache in every last one of his muscles proved it. Middles at his level rarely weren’t taken out of play by liberos, but Yaku’s injury shook everything up.

“Sure, but I was so busy playing overtime that I didn’t have the capacity to uphold my captaincy-“ Kuroo continued before being interrupted.

“Cringe.”

“I mean it,” Kuroo said with a laugh, “You took so much leadership in that game. It was badass. You’re going to make a great captain.”

“I will be no such thing,” Kenma said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “Fukunaga-kun would be a much better captain and Coach knows that. We all know that.”

“I very much disagree.”

“Who?” the man asked, opening another thermos of what Kuroo assumed to be beer with his beautiful slender hands.

It was the first Spring Tournament Nekoma had made in a while and therefore the first they had made since the breakup. That is what Kuroo told himself to rationalize forgetting the severance between himself and Kenma.

“Nobody,” Kuroo said, shaking his head, “Thanks for the beer.”

Kuroo put his phone on speaker as he continued reorganizing his bookshelf.

“You have a significant other yet?” his father asked, his gruff voice carrying all too much.

“Nope,” Kuroo said, his hand hung frozen in the air, grasping an old novel, “And I’m not looking at the moment.”

“It’s been a year,” his father stressed, “You have to get over Kenma.”

He was impressed that his old man came around to the whole bi thing, but somehow, was old fashioned enough that he was getting impatient for Kuroo to start a family of his own. Didn’t he know that Kuroo’s generation tended to marry when they were older?

“I’m not sure if getting over Kenma is a thing that’s even possible at this point,” Kuroo said, startled by his own admission.

He looked at the novel in his hand and let it fall to the floor. Who needed an organized bookshelf anyway? He was the only one who lived there and he never had any visitors who weren’t a part of the apartment maintenance team.

“You have to move on eventually,” his father tried once more with a sigh.

“I had Kenma as my other half for almost two decades,” Kuroo admitted, closing his eyes. “It is going to take time.”

“Speaking of time,” his dad said, “Your cousin is touring your old school to see if she wants to go there after she graduates. She told me to ask you about some place called ‘Time.’”

It took Kuroo a second to figure out what he was talking about.

“Oh, Thyme,” he said, quietly, “It’s a coffee and tea place on campus.”

”Alrighty, then,” Kenma started, setting their cups on the table between them, “Let’s get this party started.”

When they’d first broached the topic of dating, all was well and good, but Kenma was insistent on meeting for some general discussion of their impending relationship. Kuroo found it wildly unnecessary, but Thyme had the best coffee in the area so he was more than happy to oblige. A perfect warm mug of coffee and a cool glass of Kenma? Count Kuroo in.

“I wasn’t aware this was a party,” Kuroo said, raising his eyebrows, “I would have worn something much more fun.”

“Remember when I told you I wanted to give dating a try?” Kenma asked as he sat himself down across from Kuroo, “I’m quickly regretting that decision.”

Kuroo couldn’t quite tell if it was a true statement or a retort to his previous comment.

“Sure you are.”

“I am,” Kenma said, shooting him a look, “I want you to know that I haven’t really seriously dated-“

“Yeah, I know,” Kuroo said, “It’s not like we just met. I’m acutely aware of how single you usually are. For like years now. You’re the hopeless in hopeless romantic.”

“Hmm yes, more regret coming my way,” Kenma said, rolling his eyes.

“Listen,” Kuroo said, sliding one of his hands over to Kenma’s, “I know you haven’t been in a serious relationship. I’m completely and totally unworried about it.”

“But I-“

“Yeah, I know,” Kuroo continued, “You’re scared to start something with me because you might mess it up due to your inexperience. Is that it?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Then that’s no biggie,” Kuroo said with a smile, “You and me go way back. We’ve got this. We’re working together in a relationship, so it’s you and me against your inexperience, not you and your inexperience against me.”

Kuroo hoped it didn’t sound as cliche to Kenma as it did to him. Thankfully Kenma hesitated for only about a beat before carefully smiling.

“Okay.”

“And I would like to make it clear,” Kuroo said, playfully licking his lips, “That I plan to ruin every last bit of your inexperience.”

It was quite possible that Kuroo had never seen Kenma so red. Years of grueling volleyball practices and cutthroat games didn’t stand a chance against Kenma’s sheer embarrassment.

“Fine,” Kenma said, clearly working up the nerve, “But take me to dinner first.”

“Is the place any good?” his dad prompted, breaking Kuroo out of his reverie.

It took him a second to remember that the topic of conversation was on Thyme.

“It’s awful. The coffee sucks.”

Kuroo had long since given up any pretense that he wasn’t going to play the game in his free time for at least one task per day, so there he sat, immersing himself in the world of when things were good.

He wondered just how many quests Kenma had actually programmed into the game. There seemed to be plenty of options, people shimmering with quests on every street. Kuroo’s stomach dropped when he realized just how long Kenma had been begging him to playtest it before they broke up.

Just how full was this virtual scrapbook that he never bothered to crack open?

”Hey, uh, Kuro?” Kenma said, knocking on the doorframe, “I sent you an email.”

“Hang on, guys,” Kuroo said, pausing his call, “Yeah, I saw it.”

“Okay, good,” Kenma said, “I really wanna get your thoughts on it. It’s just for my portfolio but I think you’ll like playing through it. Let me know what you think.”

“Yeah, sure,” Kuroo said, turning back to his call, “I’ll get to it at some point.”

He bookmarked the link, but didn’t open it. He had more interesting things to do than playtest yet another one of Kenma’s failed games.

Konekuro, piloted by his human, decided he was going to go help a girl in the library who was sitting by the computers.

He clicked on her to reveal that the library computer wasn’t working. The sketching made that clear and there seemed to be no alternate interpretations available.

Kuroo first looked to make sure the device was plugged in and tried to click on it, but nothing worked. He wandered around the library, looking up and down the stacks for a hint or even a virtual library book on how to fix computers, but he was at a loss.

He had long since figured out that each quest related to a sweet memory of their late relationship and attempted to search his brain for a time where they couldn’t use a computer.

He wracked his brain but he couldn’t come up with anything.

For some reason he felt too proud to go to Konekenma for help, so as he continued to come up with more useless memories, he attempted to click on every single clickable object in the library. There were a strikingly large number of options. Props to the programmer. It was going to take him a while.

Kenma grabbed onto Kuroo’s arm and pulled him up and out of the chair.

“I’m not done studying,” Kuroo lamented, looking down at his communications textbook.

He had an exam in two days. This was no joking matter. Regardless of how Kenma felt about studying, Kuroo cared very much about the score of every single test and project his professors assigned him.

“Time to go home,” Kenma said with a sense of finality in his tone.

“No, it’s not even that late,” Kuroo protested as Kenma started putting Kuroo’s study materials into his bag.

“I know, but we’ve had enough library for one day,” Kenma said, pointedly closing one of Kuroo’s open notebooks.

Kuroo knew Kenma more than well enough to know that he wanted something, but he couldn’t quite figure out what it was. They’d already eaten. Kenma actually slept well for once, and they didn’t have any plans on the calendar.

“We have not,” Kuroo said, indignantly taking his stuff back out, “I have to-“

“Kuro,” Kenma whined.

“What?”

The word came out much more pointed than he meant it to. He really just wanted to get his studying done without being bothered every twenty seconds by his needy boyfriend. Even that thought sounded meaner than he meant. He figured he was just in a mood. He really just needed to finish studying.

“I’m so fucking horny,” Kenma complained below his breath, “And we can’t bone in the library. Unless you wanna bone in the library. I mean, I’m down, but I imagine you aren’t.”

“Looks like study time is over,” Kuroo said, packing up his bag, “Maybe we should head back home.”

“Great idea,” Kenma said with a smile.

Technically, they didn’t even get home before going at it. While they were walking down the dark alley behind the library, it seemed like Kenma couldn’t help but press his boyfriend’s back into the wall, lean up, and-

Kuroo eventually stumbled upon the right thing- a wire sitting on a bean bag in the children’s area of the library- and the cutscene began.

Konekuro grabbed the cord and dragged it all the way back to the girl. She connected it to both the keyboard and screen and gave a huge smile as she tested it to see that it worked.

Kuroo watched as Kenma checked the entire apartment again, looking through the mountain of empty cardboard boxes.

“Still can’t find it?” Kuroo asked, continuing his task.

He was sitting in their beanbag chair, folding all of their kitchen towels for easier storage.

“No,” Kenma said with a laugh, “I mean, it’s a cheap cord so I can replace it pretty easily, but like, bruh.”

“Bruh is right,” Kuroo confirmed.

Kenma wandered around looking for a bit more before giving up entirely, flopping down onto their newly assembled bed. The apartment was coming together nicely. Having their own was long overdue.

“Come help me, then, if you aren’t gonna keep looking,” Kuroo said.

He wondered how they had so many kitchen towels between the two of them. They could power an entire food court, which seemed unnecessary, considering the fact that they both would much rather eat out assuming they had the funds.

“Okay, fine,” Kenma said, clearly wanting to protest but not bothering.

Kenma unceremoniously plopped himself onto Kuroo’s lap, knocking most of the painstakingly folded towels over. So much for Kenma helping out with the task. Though, if Kenma was going to be a nuisance, at least he was a hot one straddling Kuroo.

“Can I help you?” Kuroo asked, kissing his forehead with a laugh.

“Mhm,” Kenma said, moving his head up so he could connect their lips, “Kiss me silly.”

“That can be arranged,” Kuroo responded, smiling against his lips.

They kissed for quite a while like that, Kuroo going rather aggressively. Something about Kenma made him absolutely feral. The quiet, unassuming gamer was enough to turn every single one of Kuroo’s nerves into overdrive until he was practically begging Kenma for more, lest he explode.

It wasn’t long before their hands started to wander. Then, their shirts also started to wander. It wasn’t long before Kenma, while in the process of encouraging Kuroo’s pants to take a trip as well, discovered the cord to his mouse directly below Kuroo’s ass.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” Kenma said, pulling it out.

“No, but I am fucking kissing you,” Kuroo said, “Or just fucking you, because I’m so fucking down.”

“I do suppose we gotta break the new bed in.”

‘Wrong Kind of Mouse: Complete! You can find Konekenma on the top of the parking deck. He will give you a prize.’

Kuroo sighed. He glanced over at the corner of his bedroom where the beanbag chair had once sat, being a faithful foundation for many instances of impromptu sex. Kenma refused to take it with him when he moved out, so Kuroo had to toss it. It was stuffed with too many memories.

He virtually wandered up to the parking deck to surely get hit over the head with another jagged memory thanks to the digital cat. Even when they were sweet little mirrors into a happier time, the edge of the piece would always cut Kuroo if he held on too tightly.

‘Hello! I’m Konekenma! I can see everything that goes on in this town. I can lend some insight into whatever you’re working on and I have things to give you once you finish each task.’

Kuroo clicked on the text in order to receive his prize. He knew what it was going to say, but he did it anyway.

‘You completed Wrong Kind of Mouse! Here is a token of my appreciation!’

A small grey heart appeared in the corner of the screen. He confirmed what he knew by hovering over it to see the word ‘to.’ What he didn’t expect, however, was that their interaction wasn't done. Konekenma had something else to say.

‘Now that you’ve gotten the hang of this, you don’t have to come back to me for every prize, but you can if you want. There are now two Siamese cats in town that are closer than the parking deck. They have different prizes for you. Feel free to come back if you ever need help. Also, thanks for stopping by! I love you.’

Kuroo shrugged. Looked like he was going to be able to avoid any future ‘I love yous’ assuming he didn’t get stuck on a quest.

That sounded plenty fine to him. There was no need to put himself through that every time he wanted to play. The happy memories were hard enough without those three little words sending pricks of pain into his chest.

His feelings couldn’t hurt him if he simply pretended they didn’t exist. That was certainly the plan anyway.

Chapter Text

Kuroo tipped the bottle of wine and watched as it started to pour into his glass, carefully measuring out a reasonably sized serving. He was hoping it’d fill the large hole in his life. The phone call with his father took quite a number on him, making him realize that his problems were more than just in his head. His absence of purpose had been socking him directly in the nuts, so he returned to the liquor store to buy a purpose.

All he ever did was wake up, go to work, do the bare minimum to keep himself healthy, and play a game designed by his ex-lover. His life shriveled into a small, tasteless thing with no color or flavor to be enjoyed. The only time he felt anything was while he pawed his way through a virtual seaside town.

Kenma made an emergency crash landing on the bed, immediately curling himself into a blanket upon arrival.

“Long day?” Kuroo asked.

He locked his phone and slid a hand into his boyfriend’s hair. Kenma nodded, his head moving Kuroo’s hand with it.

“I accidentally double booked Tuesday night,” Kenma whined into his blanket, “Babysitting and working in the dining hall.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo started, gently, “You’re working yourself to death.”

Kuroo had no idea how Kenma kept up with the slew of odd jobs he was holding. The poor boy was going to wear himself to the bone.

“That’s okay,” Kenma responded quietly, nuzzling his head into Kuroo’s fingers, “That’s what I want. It’s gonna be hard getting Bouncing Ball off the ground, but I’m going to be so happy when it happens. It’s what I’m meant to do, you know?”

“Hmm,” Kuroo hummed, scratching Kenma’s scalp, “How many jobs are you working?”

“Technically six or seven, but it’s not like I’m working them all every week,” he pointed out, repositioning himself to lay on Kuroo’s leg, “And it’s just until B.B. brings in more of an income. It’ll get better then.”

Kuroo couldn’t help but wonder what his own Bouncing Ball would be. He didn’t really have one. He thought his new job at the Japan Volleyball Association would be cool, but at the end of the day, it wasn’t a life mission unlike Kenma’s startup; it was just a job, something to keep the money flowing in.

Sure, it was volleyball, and he loved volleyball, but it wasn’t the same. He was just sitting in an office all day, crunching numbers.

“What should I do with my life then?” Kuroo asked with a small chuckle.

He didn’t figure Kenma would have an answer for him, but sometimes Kenma had a keen insight into the world around him, one Kuroo was thankful to be privy to.

“Be happy?”

What a ridiculous suggestion.

Kuroo poured another sip of wine before setting both the wineglass and the bottle on the counter. He grabbed a bag of chocolates from his cabinet and then took the entire bottle with a shrug, leaving the half full glass on the counter.

He certainly wasn’t succeeding at the life goal Kenma laid out for him. He wasn’t even close.

Kuroo’s original plan of sipping on some wine while getting some annoying little real life tasks done was a valiant one, but it didn’t come even close to fruition. He insisted it wasn’t his fault. It was the government who was the one taunting him with their silly tax forms. There was no reason it had to be that difficult.

Maybe fixing the federal tax system would be a lofty life mission for him. Maybe even just jokingly thinking that made Kuroo feel bad about himself.

Kuroo threw his stress ball against the wall. It bounced off, knocking his glass of water onto the floor.

“You all good?” Kenma asked, still quickly tapping away at his code.

“No,” Kuroo said, running his hands through his hair, “It won’t take what I’m putting in even though I’ve checked the numbers like thirty times.”

“Oh, great,” Kenma said, “I’m going to date a convict. How embarrassing. What does your boyfriend do for a living? Oh, he’s actually in jail for tax fraud.”

“Ugh.”

Kuroo begrudgingly got out of his chair to grab a towel so he could soak up the spilled water. Thankfully his cup didn’t break, but there was still a mess to deal with. When he looked back up, he saw Kenma staring out the window as if he was unable to look away. It had started to pour outside.

“Come with me on a walk,” Kenma said, closing his laptop, a break in his coding for the first time in hours, “You’ll feel better. I promise.”

“I certainly will feel worse when I’m cold and soaked,” Kuroo told him, bending down to clean his mess.

“You will feel worse for like a minute,” Kenma conceded, “But then, you’ll feel so much better. When you’re at the mercy of weather and bound to nature’s will, taxes don’t matter. Nothing matters when you’re soaked to your core and shivering through your jacket. Trust me.”

“I don’t think so-“

“Please, come and not matter with me,” Kenma said.

He grabbed the towel from Kuroo as he stood up to go wring it out over the sink.

“Sorry, love. I’m staying here,” Kuroo said, frowning at his computer, “I really don’t want to be drenched.”

“Please?”

“No,” Kuroo said with a sigh, “I can’t.”

Kenma nodded at him, something like sadness pulling at the corner of his eyes. He hung the towel up and made his way outside of the apartment.

Before returning to his digital tax forms, Kuroo plugged in their heated blanket, already awaiting the return of his lover.

He also desperately needed a new couch and was supposed to be looking for one, but his current couch kept hurdling barbs at him as well. He wasn’t sure how the damn thing had so many memories in it.

”Hey, love?” Kuroo whispered.

“Mhm?” Kenma hummed.

He was laying on top of Kuroo, the entire length of his body touching Kuroo’s skin and Kuroo could feel the vibration of Kenma’s voice.

“I can’t lay on the couch forever.”

Kenma wriggled his hips and attempted to wrap his arms around Kuroo by pushing them under his body.

“You can,” Kenma mumbled into his chest.

“I can’t,” Kuroo said with a sigh, “I’ve got stuff to do.”

“Mhm,” Kenma said against his neck, “Like cuddling with me on the couch.”

Kuroo just calmly removed Kenma from his body and got up to go get ready for the gym.

Kuroo briefly wondered if he could have just stayed on the couch with Kenma forever. He could still be on the couch with Kenma, but no, he was just staring at its ugly upholstery, all alone; always alone.

”Let’s go!” Kenma said, hopping out of the car with more childlike enthusiasm than Kuroo had seen in him in a long time.

They were going to the furniture store to pick up a couch for their new apartment. They desperately needed one, so they made sure to save up here and there for it.

“Are you always this excited about furniture?” Kuroo asked, sliding his hand into Kenma’s as they walked into the store.

“Nope,” Kenma responded with a smile, “But we’re buying a couch together. Doesn’t that seem like a married thing to you?”

It was a harmless statement, but as a child of divorce, hearing his boyfriend bring up the ‘M’ word even just casually was a bit nerve wracking.

“True,” Kuroo responded, doing his best not to let it show, “Seems pretty married.”

He squeezed Kenma’s hand. Maybe he would reconsider his general disdain for the institution of marriage. He loved Kenma just that much. Nothing would ever come between them. Their love was unbreakable, their relationship stronger than any other. Because divorce was off the table, maybe marriage would find a place in its stead.

“Now let’s find an absolute unit of a couch,” Kenma said.

The couch could probably be called an absolute unit. It was one of the only two in stock that they could afford and was rather large. That being said, it had the world’s ugliest floral pattern on it. The flowers looked more like bloodstains than flowers, but they both found it pretty funny at the time. It was ridiculous and playful, just like them.

The last thing Kuroo was planning on doing that evening was simply changing his fitted sheet, but he ended up with a trio of losses, not even bothering to start the task. It wasn’t his fault that everything reminded him of Kenma. Physically, he could handle the tasks. Emotionally, he was a lot less confident.

Kuroo couldn’t breathe. He was in absolute hysterics as he watched Kenma struggle to change the fitted sheet on their king sized bed. He appeared to be sweating as he desperately pulled on one corner, just for another to pop off.

“What stupid motherfucker invented this!”

That was how Kuroo ended up spending his evening doing absolutely nothing productive and choosing to instead play a video game, an entire bottle of wine in hand.

He decided it had been a while since he wandered into a random household to help its inhabitants, so he picked the first one he saw that indicated there was a quest inside.

He made his way through the house, searching
for its corresponding humans, and couldn’t help but laugh when he saw a bunch of weeds with purple flowers sitting in a coffee mug on the counter.

Kuroo walked into their apartment, armed with an apple donut, a handmade card, and some picked flowers he found outside of their place.

He quickly realized that Kenma was still sleeping, so he sat at their kitchen table and started doing some of his homework. He was almost done with the chapter by the time Kenma emerged from their bedroom.

His hair was an absolute disaster and he was wearing nothing but an oversized shirt and slippers. It was painfully adorable.

“Morning, love,” Kenma said, stretching.

Kuroo snorted at how much the stretch revealed. Somehow even Kenma’s flaccid dick peeking out of an old shirt was endearing to him.

“How are you feeling?” Kuroo asked as Kenma walked over to their coffee pot.

“Concussed,” Kenma said, “Hoping the caffeine helps.”

Kuroo scratched the back of his neck.

“I hope so, too,” he said, “I’m sorry by the way.”

Kenma laughed softly, filling two mugs. Kuroo didn’t ask him for coffee, but apparently Kenma was feeling generous. It was those little things that let him know that Kenma was the only one he’d ever need.

“It was an accident,” Kenma said, “There’s no need to worry.”

“I know,” Kuroo said, sliding the gifts to Kenma’s side of the table, “But I wanted to make it up to you.”

“It’s really not-“ Kenma said, setting one mug in front of Kuroo and then plopping himself down in the other seat, “What is this?”

“Compensation.”

Kenma first opened the card. It was a generic thank you card, but the ‘Thank You’ had been crossed out and replaced with ‘Sorry I slammed your head into the headboard bad enough to make you lose your vision for a second while we were banging.’

Kuroo didn’t even bother go to the store to look for a card. He figured there wasn’t much of a market for the situation.

“Are these the weeds from the back of this place?” Kenma asked with an amused smile.

“Only the best for my lover,” Kuroo confirmed.

Kenma blew on his coffee before inhaling it, swallowing every last drop in one go. Kuroo looked at him with more incredulousness than he ever had, and that was saying something. He prayed for Kenma’s throat’s sake that the coffee had been cooling for longer than he thought it had.

“What?” Kenma asked, getting up and filling the empty mug with water, “I gotta keep the flowers hydrated.”

It definitely wasn’t Kuroo’s best memory of them, but part of him was glad that his apology weeds ended up being immortalized in the game. It seemed very fitting.

 

---

---

---

”God, you’re so-” Kuroo started, the words getting lost into jagged pants as he readjusted his grip on Kenma’s waist.

The way Kenma’s lips were ever so slightly parted and he was letting out little whimpers was doing something to Kuroo. Kenma set each and every one of his nerve endings on fire.

“Harder,” Kenma breathed.

Kuroo, of course, obliged, grabbing onto Kenma and slamming into him. Unfortunately, his grip slipped and he thrust himself into Kenma hard, and then Kenma into their headboard even harder.

Kenma groaned, loudly, and not in a good way. Kuroo immediately pulled out and tried to check up on him.

“Oh my god, Kenma.”

“Mm, fuck,” Kenma said, desperately grabbing at his head, “You definitely gave me harder.”

Kuroo pretended he wasn’t actively blushing at the memory as he crept up the virtual stairs. After checking a few empty rooms, he found who he was looking for. There were two half naked men, both of whom had quest indicators. One was significantly taller than the other.

When he clicked on one, the sketching that appeared clearly showed the shorter one with a fucked out face and the taller one had his dick crudely outlined in the neon lines.

Kuroo raised an eyebrow at the screen. This quest appeared to be much less child appropriate than the rest of them. Was Kuroo actually about to make a digital representation of himself and his ex-boyfriend fuck?

Yeah, yeah he was.

It was easier said and done, much like in real life. He couldn’t figure out what on earth he was supposed to be clicking on.

He felt rather odd, clicking on the genitals of animated characters, especially when it didn’t work. It took him a second to figure the puzzle out, and in hindsight, the solution should have been much more obvious.

Kenma snorted, sighing as he pulled himself off of Kuroo’s body.

“This is a shitshow.”

“Hey, now,” Kuroo objected, “Usually I get until at least the second time having sex before I’m insulted like that.”

“Your legs are too long,” Kenma moaned in an annoyed way, not an aroused one, “And my hips are so tight-“

“So is your-“

“Shut up,” Kenma said, very lightly slapping him on the cheek, “Everyone talks about how hot a size difference is in bed and not how difficult it actually is to fuck. I just want you to fuck the living daylights out of me.”

Kuroo let Kenma reposition him into their fourth position of the afternoon. Maybe the fourth time would be the charm.

“I’m sorry that I’m just so big and sexy.”

Kenma flicked him and reapplied more lube to Kuroo’s dick, ready to try again.

“Fucking, damnit,” Kenma said, unable to get Kuroo’s dick more than an inch into him. The angle was all wrong.

Kuroo clicked on the pillow that was rendered just slightly different from the rest, and sure enough, the cutscene began. In retrospect, it should have been obvious based on the graphics alone.

Thankfully, Kenma didn’t feel the need to animate the two having sex. Konekuro batted over the pillow and then was immediately booted out of the room by one of the men.

The second Kuroo walked in the door, a very naked, and notably erect, Kenma, tossed a pillow at him.

“Thank you?” Kuroo asked, catching it and then tossing it down on their couch.

“No,” Kenma said, an amused glint in his eyes, “Thank you.”

“Not gonna lie. I’m kinda terrified but also turned on by the chaotic aura you’re radiating right now.”

Kuroo set his backpack down and began pulling off his clothes. If Kenma was as horny as the hardness of his dick indicated, he wasn’t about to say ‘no.’

“I’m thanking you because you’re about to fuck me so good,” Kenma explained.

He quickly walked over to Kuroo, grabbed him by the arm, and dragged him into their room.

“Are you usually like this?” Kuroo asked.

He hadn’t really heard much about Kenma’s sex life, but he didn’t seem like the impulsively horny type.

“Absolutely not,” Kenma said, “But I think I figured out how to make it work better.”

“I’m down.”

They’d googled and attempted increasingly weird positions, most of which were an absolute failure. Some of them were only a minor failure so they would just stick with those. It wasn’t a very permanent solution.

“Fuck,” Kenma said, “You left the key in the front room.”

Kuroo stared at him blankly, trying to figure out what he was talking about.

“The pillow,” Kenma filled in, “We can use it to lift me up a few inches.”

---

---

---

Kuroo frowned the slightest bit. This seemed like a very awkward thing to include in a game, especially for a portfolio, but he cast the thought immediately from his brain.

‘Operation Buttsex: Complete! You can find two Siamese cats around or Konekenma on the top of the parking deck. They will give you a prize.’

The name of the quest was heinous enough to make Kuroo cringe. It was exactly Kenma’s humor and that was just as responsible for the cringe as the phrasing without the added context.

Now that the quest was complete, he decided to find one of the Siamese cats. It wasn’t difficult at all. The cat was pretty much right on the next screen outside of the house as if it was waiting for him.

It was rather convenient, especially compared to having to trudge all the way up to the top of the parking deck.

‘For completing this quest, you have unlocked the ability to change your walking speed. You can edit it in the ‘settings’ menu.’

Kuroo raised an eyebrow as he went into settings and set the walk speed to the fastest possible one and gave it a trial run. It was incredible. He could traipse through the seaside town much faster that way.

That being said, something was missing. He completed a quest, and yet, something wasn’t quite complete. The familiar sense of finality wasn’t there.

He frowned and crossed his arms, staring at himself in the reflection of the shiny black border of his laptop screen.

No, he wasn’t going to do it. He was absolutely not going to do another task just so he could get the prize from Konekenma. That would be absolutely ridiculous. Pathetic and ridiculous, especially since he knew what the prize was going to be. It was just going to be a little heart with the word ‘be’ on it, so why did he want to seek it out? Perhaps he just didn’t like leaving things unfinished. He just wanted to finish out the phrase for the sake of cohesion.

He shrugged and began searching for another quest to complete. A thought gnawed at the back of his brain and he ignored it, or at least he tried to, shoving it to the back of his brain over and over.

Suddenly, he pushed his chair away from his desk and sagged down into it. He was going to admit to himself, fully and completely, why he was going to complete another task to see Konekenma or he wasn’t going to allow himself to continue playing at all.

He could be honest with himself in the quiet of the apartment he lived in. He had no roommates. There was nobody else in there to hear him and certainly nobody else in his brain. The only one he had to face was himself.

He could do this one thing and admit to himself why he was doing what he was doing.

He let out a deep, rattling sigh.

“Tell me you love me, you stupid fucking cat. I just want to be loved.”

Chapter Text

As he sheepishly looked for his next task, something seemed… off, and it wasn’t just how exhausted he was, sleep pulling his eyelids low. He was already up playing, so choosing to embark on another task was a fight between his curious mind and his tired body.

In the game, there had previously been plenty of people with tasks for him to complete, but the task distribution seemed to have changed, leaving significantly fewer options. On top of that, he was almost positive that the people offering the quests were different as well, but then again, he was practically delirious with exhaustion. The wine and the late hour was taking him out.

Nothing else had seemed to change besides his newfound speed and other methods of redeeming prizes, so he noted the timing was odd in the change in quests, but nevertheless, he tiredly went along on his way, not giving it too much more thought.

He wandered into a house where a young boy was carrying a box. When he clicked on him for more information, it showed the boy falling down, hurting his wrist.

Kenma was clearly agitated as he carried the boxes inside by himself. Kuroo refused to help. It was all Bouncing Ball merchandise, something Kuroo thought was a terrible idea. Kenma’s company didn’t have nearly enough popularity to sell merchandise. It was a waste of money and they both had bills to pay.

Kuroo heard the front door being thrown open and then a scuffle of some kind. Kenma must have had trouble getting the box through the door and fumbled it. He payed Kenma no mind and continued going about his work until about ten minutes later, he heard a much larger commotion: a slam, a crack, and a yelp.

That was enough to actually get him to his feet. He walked into the kitchen to see Kenma on the ground, clutching his wrist, tears threatening to spill from the corner of his eyes.

“What is your fucking problem?” Kenma shouted.

“What?” Kuroo asked, defensive, as he went to grab an ice pack.

Just because he didn’t like Kenma at that moment didn’t mean he wouldn’t care for him.

“You knew I was taking these in and you put the garbage where I was walking?” Kenma asked, wincing, “I couldn’t possibly see it over these boxes!”

Kuroo glanced at the garbage bag that was admittedly placed in directly in Kenma’s path. Kenma could have moved it out of the way when he wasn’t holding a box. He could have even brought it down with him in the first place. It was his turn to take it out anyway. Plus, he’d walked past it multiple times. If it was that big of a deal he would have already noticed it and rectified the problem.

“It was a mistake,” Kuroo said, calmly, wrapping the ice pack in a paper towel.

Diplomacy seemed to be the best route. He was too exhausted to yell, something the two of them had become well accustomed to doing.

“Sure,” Kenma said, slowly getting to his feet, “But making me do this all by myself sure wasn’t just a mistake. Maybe this wouldn’t have happened if you would have bothered to help me for ten fucking minutes.”

“Seems a bit overdramatic,” Kuroo scoffed, “I was just trying to make it easier for you to take the bag out.”

Kenma had a point, but he was going to ignore it. He didn’t have a good enough rebuttal.

He then reached forward to take a better look at Kenma’s wrist, but Kenma immediately recoiled at the contact. Kuroo wasn’t sure if it was the pain or something else entirely that caused the reaction.

“Did you ever get around to picking up the pain meds?” Kenma asked, turning away from him.

“No,” Kuroo said carefully, “You were the one who went shopping last.”

“Fuck, fine,” Kenma responded, tears suddenly streaming down his face.

Kuroo paused. Kenma had a really high pain tolerance, much higher than his own. Either the fight itself was enough to get Kenma emotional enough to cry or Kenma’s wrist was worse than he thought. After all of the fights they had, Kuroo was really doubtful that it was the former.

“Let me see your wrist,” Kuroo said.

Kenma held his arm up to Kuroo, still not facing him. He’d only taken a few sports medicine classes, but even a six year old could tell that something was seriously wrong.

“This is broken,” Kuroo said, his jaw dropping slightly, “You need to go get this looked at.”

“Fine,” Kenma said with a sigh, feeling around his pocket with his good arm to find his keys, “See you in a bit.”

“You can’t drive with one hand,” Kuroo objected.

It seemed hypocritical, considering the steering wheel cover debacle, but Kuroo wasn’t particularly concerned about that.

“I’ll take a cab.”

The memory seemed to line up too well, but it couldn’t possibly be the answer. The tasks in the game were good memories, or at the very least neutral ones. Out of the dozen or so he completed, there were never bad ones. There had to be a different solution.

Kuroo tried to wrack his brain for another instance that could be related to the virtual scene, a happier memory, not a painful one.

Kenma plopped on the ground in front of him, an open bottle of rum in his hand.

“Open up,” Kenma said, “Too lazy to find a glass.”

“I don’t wanna drink straight rum,” Kuroo slurred out, laughter in his eyes.

Kenma frowned for a second before holding up a finger. He then rustled through his oversized sweatshirt pocket and pulled out a half-empty bottle of coke.

Kuroo laughed as Kenma cracked it open. He held his mouth open and Kenma attempted to pour both the pop and the liquor in at the same time, only managing to spill it everywhere.

Kuroo laughed, shooting the mixture out of his nose and all over Kenma.

“Perhabs we need to stop drinkin’,” Kenma suggested, a solemn look on his face.

“Perhabs?”

“Perhabs,” Kenma confirmed, snorting as he got up to grab Kuroo a washcloth.

He wobbled into the kitchen and tossed one over. It didn’t land even close to where Kuroo was sitting.

“Mm, nailed it.”

“Hush,” Kenma said, taking his doused sweatshirt and shirt off in one go.

“Hot damn!” Kuroo laughed, getting to his feet as well. He whistled, making his way over to Kenma, who rolled his eyes through a laugh.

“You see me clothless all the time,” Kenma pointed out, crossing his arms.

Kuroo kissed his sweet little forehead.

“And I thank the stars every fucking time.”

“Ugh, gross,” Kenma said even though he smiled. He wandered his way over to the pantry, unearthing a box.

“What’s this?” Kuroo asked, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Kenma flashed him the box, a friendship bracelet kit clearly marketed towards young girls.

“We’re about to make our friendship official,” Kenma told him, “Will you, Kuroo Tetsurou, be friends with me?”

“No,” Kuroo said, leaning forward to kiss him, “I can’t stand you.”

“Mm, perfect,” Kenma said, “Maybe we will have enough letters for that.”

Kuroo grabbed it from him and sat himself back on the floor, opening up the box and looking through the different beads and strings.

“Where’d ya get this anyway?”

“The girl I babysit likes makin’ jewelry so I bring it to her place,” Kenma said, stretching before sitting next to Kuroo, their arms just barely touching, “She said I could make whatever I wanted.”

“How kind of her.”

Kuroo frowned and glanced at his own bracelet that was halfway hidden under a stack of papers on his desk. He couldn’t bring himself to throw it away, so it just sat there, partially obstructed, but never touched.

Maybe one day he’d be strong enough to do away with his bracelet, especially considering that Kenma didn’t have his anymore.

“No,” Kenma said, sarcastically laughing through the tears, “I don’t want help moving out of my ex-“

Kenma’s voice caught on the word and he started to sob harder. Kuroo had no idea what to do, so he just stood there, frozen. He was used to cynical, sarcastic Kenma. He was also used to bringing out that Kenma. He was not used, however, to not caring.

Kenma, clearly attempting to regain some wherewithal, dodged around the Kuroo-shaped statue in his path to get out of the apartment. On his way out, his wrist caught on the door, popping his bracelet open. Beads clattered to the floor.

No. It couldn’t have been that either, but he was unable to think of any other solution to the puzzle, so he went back to his first thought and clicked on the small garbage can on the floor.

Sure enough, the cutscene began. Konekuro sprinted across the floor and rammed into the garbage can with just enough force to move it out of the way. The boy walked past, unharmed.

‘Project Prophylactic: Complete! You can find two Siamese cats around or Konekenma on the top of the parking deck. They will give you a prize.’

As the slightly altered prompt flashed on the screen, Kuroo realized just how tired he was. He shouldn’t have even started another task this late and certainly should not go on to receive his confirmation of love from a metaphorical cat made after the image of his ex-boyfriend, but it wasn’t like he was particularly balanced as of late.

He hardly could keep his eyes open as he desperately wandered up to the top of the parking garage.

‘Hello! I’m Konekenma! I can see everything that goes on in this town. I can lend some insight into whatever you’re working on and I have things to give you once you finish each task.’

Kuroo didn’t care about the flimsy heart he was about to receive. He already knew what it was going to say before it popped onto his screen. He wanted what came after the gift.

‘You completed Project Prophylactic! Here is a token of my appreciation! Also, thanks for stopping by! I love you.’

“I love you too, Konekenma.”

He was trying to figure out if loving a cartoon cat was ridiculous, and more importantly, if he loved the person Konekenma was designed after, but he fell asleep at his desk long before he could answer either question.

Kuroo was admittedly very confused when he woke up at his desk. It wasn’t long after that until he glanced at the clock and panicked. He was going to be late for work.

It then occurred to him that it was Saturday, so he sagged in relief until he remembered all of the feelings he was having late the night before. He felt awful at the memory and stewed in his own embarrassment, deciding that he needed to start holding himself to his routine once again. It had slowly been replaced by more alcohol, more games, more misery, and significantly less productivity. Maybe it would prevent him from having to deal with emotional rollercoasters like that.

He took a deep breath.

There was no time for feelings of inadequacy, only self-improvement, so he hopped in the shower in an attempt to scrub his issues away. It didn’t work, so he went into the kitchen to brew a cup of coffee to scald his issues away. That didn’t work, so he went into his room to read. If he couldn’t destroy his issues, perhaps he could simply ignore them. The bar for self-improvement had been significantly lowered in the last hour and was grazing the floor.

Kuroo was vaguely successful at ignoring his problems until all of a sudden, he put something together in his mind and then his novel down on the desk.

Why would Kenma program one of their worst moments into the game?

He’d noticed it the night before, but hadn’t really thought through the why. He was much too tired.

This was supposed to be a cute, wholesome story of their love, so what was with the fight in there? Was Kenma running out of quest ideas but needed to expand the game for his portfolio? If he was just expanding it for his portfolio, why wouldn’t he just come up with other scenarios? It didn’t have to be about their relationship anymore.

The questions swirled around Kuroo’s stomach until he decided to just pull up his computer and try another task. Maybe it was just a one off.

Konekuro had never so anxiously made his way across town to accept a task. Despite the quicker speed, it felt like it took twice as long. He didn’t want to click on another fight. He was enjoying the game and the good memories it pulled from him. He didn’t want to be corralled into more misery, but his curiosity got the better of him.

He crept onto the beach and noticed a beach house that shimmered, indicating that there was a task inside. When he saw a woman searching through her suitcase and another woman standing next to her, hands behind her back, he had a feeling he knew exactly what was coming. He didn’t even need to click on her to have her issue spelled out.

”Kenma, come on,” Kuroo said, standing in the doorframe, “We gotta get going, so you gotta pack.”

Kenma was using his personal computer, but it was clear that he was using it to do work.

“Sorry,” Kenma said, pushing his glasses up higher on the bridge his nose, “I have to find the bug in this before we go.”

“You don’t,” Kuroo said, crossing his arms, “You’re off work.”

“That’s not how the dev world works.”

“Fine,” Kuroo said, sighing deeply. He wanted to avoid a fight. They were going on a much needed vacation- in part to stop fighting so much- so he needed to calm down, “How about I pack your stuff?”

“Can you?” Kenma asked, an appreciative smile just barely there on his face, “Please grab my work laptop and charger.”

Kuroo nodded and started walking through the apartment, making sure to grab all of Kenma’s things, including his medication and work setup.

Kuroo sighed and clicked on the watching woman.

The cutscene began. Konekuro pounced on the woman who was watching the searcher. She stumbled back, but in the commotion dropped a laptop charger from her bag. The other woman looked over, appreciatively, and grabbed it from her.

‘Charger Challenge: Complete! You can find two Siamese cats around or Konekenma on the top of the parking deck. They will give you a prize.’

Kenma tossed his suitcase on the bed while Kuroo searched the internet for somewhere they could go for dinner. Kuroo glanced over at Kenma, but decided not to say anything while he perused the many restaurant options.

“I’m going to get some work on my next project done before dinner,” Kenma said, yawning.

“Or you could just enjoy your time off,” Kuroo recommended, “We haven’t even unpacked and you’re back to working.”

Kenma rolled his eyes and unzipped the suitcase. Kuroo knew exactly what he was looking for: the charger sitting in Kuroo’s personal bag. Kenma wasn’t going to find it and that was by design.

Kuroo went and found one of the Siamese cats for his prize. It gave him the ability to customize the coloring of his character. He changed his white paws to green, the color of the socks he was wearing at the moment.

”I could stay here another week and then another week and then another week,” Kuroo remarked, taking a sip of his coffee, “It’s a bummer we have to go.”

The trip had gone by, mostly okay. It wasn’t the first time they’d gone, but it was the first time Kenma wasn’t able to work on any of his projects. Kuroo thought they both enjoyed it more because of that, but he wasn’t for a second about to comment on it. There was no need to start a fight.

“Mhm,” Kenma said, “Back to real life, unfortunately.”

“Lemme pee,” Kuroo said, sliding out of the booth, “I’ll be right back.”

He wasn’t ready for the ball of anger that awaited him after his pleasant piss in the peculiarly decorated bathroom.

“Are you fucking serious?” Kenma asked, his laptop charger displayed prominently on the table, “You’ve had this in your bag the entire time.”

“I-“

“Don’t you say you didn’t know it was there,” Kenma said, a spitting fire in his eyes, “I am not stupid.”

Kuroo changed gears.

“Why were you looking through my stuff?” Kuroo asked, crossing his arms.

“The waiter came by with the check and my wallet is in the suitcase,” Kenma explained quietly, nodding to the receipt on the table.

“Okay, well, I just thought-“

“No, you didn’t think,” Kenma said, calmly getting up from the table, “You just acted, however you wanted to act, not giving a shit about lying to me all week.”

“Didn’t you have more fun without feeling like you had to work on your stuff?” Kuroo pleaded.

“Yeah, and I’m about to have a significantly worse time because I’m behind now,” Kenma pointed out, walking past Kuroo to exit the restaurant, “I’m going to surely have to pull at least one all-nighter now.“

“Hey, I think-“ Kuroo started, following him out of the door.

“Hope you enjoy jacking off,” Kenma said with a mirthless laugh, “I’m not going to have time to put out for you now.”

“When did this become about sex?”

“When did lying to me become okay?”

Kuroo felt sick as he shut his computer off and pulled himself onto his bare mattress. The reminder that he couldn’t even force himself to put a fitted sheet on his bed made him realize that he needed significantly more help than he was getting. He needed to talk to someone. 

“Lay down,” Bokuto said.

He gestured to the ugly, unnecessarily decadent chaise lounge that Akaashi was surely behind purchasing.

“I’m fine. Thanks though,” Kuroo responded, sitting upright on the sofa.

“I think you’ll feel more into it if you lay down,” Bokuto said, sounding oddly insistent.

Why was he so hung up on this? Kuroo spread his legs out on the lounge- and was surprised they fit. He was comfortable but he didn’t think laying down would help.

“It’s perfectly comfortable just sitting,” Kuroo said, slowly.

Bokuto crossed his arms.

“Just do it.”

“Fine,” Kuroo said, laying back against the pillow.

That was enough for his brain to snap into place. Bokuto was about to mimic a therapist. The odd rhythm of his voice, laying back on a chaise lounge. It all made sense. It was stupid, but it made sense coming from Bokuto’s brain nonetheless.

“Now,” Bokuto said, “Please set the scene of the quandary you brought up on the phone.”

Kuroo pinched the bridge of his nose.

“I don’t need a therapist I just wanted to talk to you about this thing that’s stressing me out.”

“No, no,” Bokuto said, “One session with Ol’ Bokuto Beam will set you straight.”

His tone was sincere enough that Kuroo knew it was a waste of time to argue with his stubborn friend. He would play along enough to placate Bokuto, though he did shift so he was closer to sitting than laying. He wasn’t going to give in entirely.

“Fine,” Kuroo said, “But it’s simple. Lately I’ve been trying to think about the good memories of Kenma and I. You know, to work through this.”

“You’re just now working through a breakup from a year ago?” Bokuto asked.

“Aren’t you supposed to be a therapist and not judgy?”

“I mean, come on dude-“ Bokuto started

“Don’t ‘dude’ me. Therapists do not ‘dude’ their patients.”

Kuroo was the one who originally wanted to not be oddly role playing therapy but since Bokuto insisted, Kuroo would use the rules to his advantage.

“Fine,” Bokuto said, “And tell me how that made you feel.”

“Ugh,” Kuroo said, quickly regretting the decision to let this go on, “The problem is, now I can only think of the bad memories.”

He wanted to discuss the issue, but he really didn’t need Bokuto knowing about the game, asking questions about the game. He could keep it vague and knew Bokuto wouldn’t think to prod more.

“And that, how does that make you feel?”

“Bad. Obviously.”

Kuroo saw Bokuto move out of the corner of his eye and was praying he wasn’t about to take out a notepad.

“Ah, that’d make sense for sure but what about the good memories?” Bokuto prodded.

Kuroo paused for a moment, the silence feeling somewhat comical. The entire moment was the definition of ‘not serious.’

“I don’t actually know.”

It was the truth. He had no idea how it made him feel. It felt good. It felt bad. He wanted to do it even though it hurt him.

“Well, why are you doing it then?”

“It’s a compulsion,” Kuroo answered honestly, “It’s like I can’t stop myself.”

“To recap, you were compulsed into thinking about your good memories with him. You don’t know how that feels. Then you started thinking about the bad memories and that felt bad,” Bokuto reiterated.

Kuroo wondered if Bokuto had ever been to therapy or if he was mostly trying to copy therapists in pop culture.

“Mhm. That about sums it up. What do you think, doc?”

“The bad ones are probably hard because it reminds you that around Kenma, you used to be a person who you weren’t proud of.”

“Hey, sweets!” Kenma called from the front room.

Kuroo paused the game and glanced at the time. Kenma was back late, again.

“Would you finally do the damn dishes?” he called back, “It’s been four days for the love of-“

“Hey, chill,” Bokuto said, quietly, “You know he’s struggling right now.”

“None of your business,” Kuroo said, his tone short, “You can talk to me when you’re the one who has a partner who does nothing around the house.”

“Kur-“

“Let’s just play,” Kuroo interrupted, unpausing the game.

Kuroo knew the statement itself needed to be unpacked, but the way Bokuto said Kenma’s name- entirely neutrally- stood out to him. Kuroo thought back and determined he was probably around 9 years old the last time he spoke the name Kenma in a neutral way.

“I mean, I guess,” Kuroo said.

Admitting to being a bad person wasn’t easy but also wasn’t as difficult as he thought it might be. He was a bad person when he was dating Kenma near the end. He hadn’t grown too much since then but there was a clear difference. That he could own up to.

“Okay,” Bokuto said, slowly, “Do you think you’re thinking about the bad ones to wish you could undo them and to do better?”

“I don’t know,” Kuroo said, realizing most of his answers couldn’t possibly be helpful to his ‘therapist’. They were mostly devoid of useful content.

Bokuto took a deep breath, in and out, causing concern to run through Kuroo.

“I, uh, have a guess about the good memories,” Bokuto said, clearing his voice.

Bokuto’s uncharacteristic tone of voice set off alarm bells in Kuroo’s head.  

“And that would be?”

Nerves coursed through his body. They dropped in his stomach and pulsed in his fingertips.

“I think you’re realizing for the first time that you were truly, deeply, and unabashedly loved,” Bokuto said, slowly, “Kenma loved you so unbelievably much.”

Bokuto’s voice got simultaneously quieter and more confident. He was right and Kuroo knew it. He even used the term unabashedly correctly. Kuroo’s stomach twisted and his eyes welled with tears.

“And I gave it all away,” Kuroo squeaked out, “The one person who actually loved me and I drove them away.”

“I love you, man,” Bokuto said.

“But it’s not the same.”

Kuroo squeezed his eyes shut. He would not cry during roleplay therapy with Bokuto Koutarou.

“You’re right, it’s not the same,” Bokuto said.

“Why was I too stupid to see it?”

He knew why, of course. He was irrevocably fucked up. He’d never seen a happy relationship modeled for him. He knew they all ended in misery- that was all he’d ever known. He was trying to distance himself from love. For some reason, he didn’t realize that distancing himself from love would cause him to lose it all together (and deservingly so).

“I think you were too busy trying to protect yourself from hurt that you cornered yourself into it.”

In that moment, he hated Bokuto, just a little bit. Was Kuroo really the last one to know?

“And how do I fix that? I can’t.”

“You need actual therapy, like a woman with a degree,” Bokuto said, gently, “I can’t help you. You’re dealing with some fucked up shit and like you said, I’m not a doctor.”

Kuroo scowled, his bit of hatred flaring into anger within him.

“I don’t need therapy. I just needed a friend and this is what I get?”

He knew he shouldn’t have said it like that and immediately regretted it. He wasn’t going to apologize but he’d scale it back down a bit.

He knew that he’d been quick to anger with Kenma, but it wasn’t anything crazy. If Kuroo had to accept Kenma’s flaws, why didn’t Kenma have to do the same with Kuroo’s?

“Oh, no. You clearly need therapy,” Bokuto reiterated.

“I don’t-“

“You do.”

“I literally will just tell you I went and then not actually go,” Kuroo said, crossing his arms.

“I know most of your information,” Bokuto pointed out, “I’m going to call and make you an appointment and you can either go or pay the no-show fee.”

Kuroo was taken aback by Bokuto’s insistence. He knew he didn’t really need therapy. Bokuto was clearly overreacting, but he figured it might just be easier to go along with it for the sake of his friendship.

“Fine. Send me a recommendation and I’ll book an appointment,” Kuroo said, sighing, “But you’re wrong.”

He didn’t need any goddamn therapy.

Chapter Text

Kuroo nearly tripped as he walked into the building, the embarrassment messing with his balance. Therapy was something for him to be ashamed of. He wasn’t strong enough to handle his feelings or his life. Hell, even just being forced to be alone with himself was unbearable.

Shame apparent on his face, he walked up to the window, and the receptionist slid open the glass, asking what she could do for him.

“I’m here for therapy,” he responded, so quietly that she couldn’t hear him.

He didn’t mean to speak that quietly, but he couldn’t force himself to say it with his chest. He had a long way to go before he got there. Bokuto was barely able to get him to even try it.

“I’m sorry, can you repeat that?” the woman asked, gesturing to her ear.

Kuroo cleared his throat. He wasn’t quite sure why she couldn’t guess what he was saying. It was literally a therapy office. What else would he be there for?

“Therapy,” he said, only marginally louder than the last time, “My name is Kuroo Tetsurou and I have an appointment.”

”Stop psychoanalyzing me!” Kuroo roared, rolling his eyes, “I’m allowed to be angry when you’re being a dick!”

Kenma was way out of line. Kuroo let Kenma needle him far too often, but not anymore. This was none of his fucking business.

“Telling you that you should probably go see a therapist about your anger issues and depressive symptoms isn’t psychoanalysis,” Kenma responded calmly, “It’s common sense to anyone with eyes and a quarter of a brain.”

“You’re the one who is actually mentally ill!” Kuroo pointed out.

His throat burned and his muscles stood at attention as he watched Kenma take an abnormally deep, slow breath.

“Which is exactly why I’m familiar enough with therapy to know that you need to go. Desperately.”

“Welcome, Kuroo-san,” she said, warmly, “Since you’re a new patient, I’ll have you fill out these forms and bring them back to me. Okay?”

“Sure,” Kuroo said, taking them from her.

He looked them over as he sat down. He hesitated. They were asking some crazy stuff. Maybe he shouldn’t be in therapy. His life wasn’t that pathetic. Sure, it was pretty pathetic, but was it really that bad- so bad that he belonged in therapy?

Suicide attempts? No. Self harm? Nothing like that. Institutionalization? Absolutely not. He wasn’t crazy. He was too normal to be in therapy, just had a case of post-breakup blues. Maybe it was society’s fault, determining men weren’t allowed to have emotions. Perhaps he took that sentiment to the extreme and pathologized his sadness.

He figured he’d just see the therapist for one session, since it’d be awkward to leave right before it. He was already checked in. After the appointment, he would never come back. This was overkill to the nth degree.

How often does he drink a week? A reasonable amount. No, for sure more than that. Definitely not a reasonable amount. Wait, what even is a reasonable amount? Also why a week? Making it that inclusive made him look bad, though he quickly realized a daily measure wouldn’t have done him any favors. Does he have periods of extreme anger or irritability? Well, probably. It depended on what extreme was defined as. Why don’t these stupid forms have any vague level of clarity? Someone should be fired for this. It was stupid to have to sit here and fill out these stupid unclear forms. More than that, who doesn’t get extremely angry sometimes- especially people who came from such a broken home? When you’re raised fucked up, you don’t get better, just bigger and more fucked up. Sometimes the spitting fire inside was the only thing that made him feel alive. Nothing felt like anything except for anger. He was empty, so fucking empty, but anger was always there to keep him warm.

Maybe he was crazy enough to be in therapy.

”Chill the everloving fuck out,” Kenma said, slamming his hands onto the table, “I get it. You’re stressed and pissy, but you have to stop taking it out on everyone around you.”

“I’m not fucking taking it out on anyone but myself!“

“Is that why you ignored me when I got home?” Kenma asked, “Because otherwise I’m confused.”

He noticed Kenma’s expression and he didn’t think it was truly anger. There was something else behind it. Sadness, surely.

He didn’t want to see Kenma sad, so he would put a stop to it.

“Maybe I didn’t want to talk to you. Have you considered that?”

Maybe making Kenma actually angry would make him feel alive. They could both feel alive for once.

“We’re dating,” Kenma pointed out, opening his beer using the corner of the table.

Kuroo was pretty sure he did that to piss him off. He’d asked Kenma multiple times to stop doing that to the table. Hell, they had a bottle opener, but Kuroo had other things he’d rather argue about than the damn table.

“And?” Kuroo prompted through gritted teeth.

“And we live together,” Kenma said, slowly, “I don’t need a sonnet, but a hello would be nice.”

“Hello, then,” Kuroo mocked, crossing his arms.

“I can’t say I love the person you've become.”

Kenma spoke without anger. It was pure sadness, dejected acceptance.

“It’s because you’re always pissing me off. If you stopped pissing me off, you’d probably like me more,” Kuroo pointed out.

Kuroo didn’t really know why he was so irritated all of the time. He wasn’t always like that. It was like his patience had worn thin- his brakes metal to metal, day to day life leaving him flying down a road with no recourse.

“Whatever.”

Why was he there? He bit the pen before remembering it wasn’t his pen. That was absolutely disgusting. He figured the receptionist had surely seen worse in her tenure there at the behavioral and mental health unit and tried not to think too hard about it until he looked at it and saw light bite marks. He’d have to steal the pen to hide his action.

Or was that worse?

He would figure out the correct course of action when he was done filling out the stupid papers. Anger issues? Maybe. His issue was that he was always angry, but nothing crazy. It wasn’t like he hit anyone or anything like that. Who didn’t like to yell sometimes? Screaming at the top of his lungs always made him calmer. Depressive symptoms? Also a maybe. He did spend a lot of time in misery, but how much misery is required for depression? How much misery is clinically significant? Regardless, he either jumped over the bar of depression or at the very least smacked his shins into it. Substance abuse issues? Well, probably. Even with all of the time he spent miserable, he spent almost as much time drunk.

He could have written any and all of that as an answer to why he was there. Instead, he answered with a mere two words.

Kozume Kenma.

“So you guys haven’t spoken since?” the man asked, writing something in his notes.

Kuroo had to admit, the man seemed acutely normal, a youngish dude with a colorful dress shirt. The getup seemed both comforting and unprofessional.

Kuroo woke up alone in his bed for the first time in a very long while. Knowing that Kenma was moved out and they had broken up didn’t churn his stomach. It didn’t feel like anything. He searched deep inside for some kind of emotion and all he was able to come up with was the slightest pang of relief. He no longer had to worry about someone else weighing him down. He was finally free.

He glanced at his clock, realizing he could sleep for a bit longer, and decided to give it a go, hoping he would lose consciousness before the guilt caught up to him.

Week after week passed with no sign of it, until one day, it hit him all at once.

“No,” Kuroo said, “We saw each other by chance once but didn’t say anything. It’s also hard not to think about him because he’s getting more and more famous by the minute.”

“I can understand how difficult that must be for you,” he said, “And I would love to discuss it more, however, we’re just about out of time, but it was a pleasure to meet you. I hope to have you back here next week.”

The therapist was lying. They were significantly over time. Kuroo was over-aware of it but he couldn’t seem to stop talking. The words had spilled out of him once he’d gotten over the initial awkwardness. He wanted to continue. He really did, but he forced himself to stop.

“Uh, sure.”

He would let the words out again in a week. Maybe a second session to wrap up business was reasonable. Then he would be done with therapy. It would be a two-hit wonder and he would go back to being normal.

“I know it’s just our first session, but since you told me you like novels, I’m going to recommend you one to read. I think it would do you a great deal of good,” he said, “If you don’t have the time to read it, that’s totally understandable, but I’ll let you borrow it regardless.”

”How do you just sit there and read all day?” Kenma asked from their bed.

Kuroo looked up from his book at him, the words taking a second to process in his brain. Kenma wasn’t being rude. His expression could be best described as curiosity and a pinch of awe.

“I like reading,” Kuroo explained, “Time goes mushy when you read. It’s like dreaming, but awake, I guess, and you get to kinda pick the dream.”

Kenma snorted.

“You absolute fucking nerd.”

Kuroo grabbed a pen from the small cup on the desk and tossed it at his boyfriend.

“You’re just embarrassed because you don’t know how to read books without pictures.”

“I could never spend my time reading,” Kenma said, “Sounds like doing work for fun.”

Kuroo wanted to point out that perhaps Kenma was the one doing work for fun, but maybe it was just a short phase. Bouncing Ball would take off and he’d be back to normal. Kuroo was sure of it.

Kuroo’s therapist got up and walked over to the bookshelf on the wall. After scanning it for a minute, he grabbed a fairly thin book with a white spine and handed it to Kuroo.

Kuroo was rather confused when he saw the gift on the table. It was a big stack of what was obviously some books wrapped in newspaper.

On top of it, sat a note:

‘Nerd,

Sorry I’ve been so busy with work lately. During my lunch break yesterday I went to the bookstore and picked out a few I thought you might like. If not, the receipt is in the junk drawer and you should go get something you’d like.

All of my love,
K’

Kuroo quickly slid the note in his wallet and then tore into the books, trying to decide which to read first.

Kuroo frowned when he read the title of the book he was just handed: ‘Unclogging the Tub: The Cure to Drowning in Grief.’ The man clearly hadn’t been listening.

“He’s,” Kuroo started, “He’s not dead.”

“He kinda is, in a way,” his therapist said, “This is something I want to talk with you more about next week, but you went from having someone attached to your side for essentially your entire life to just one day having him ripped away, never to be talked to or interacted with in any way again. It’s very possible to grieve someone who is still alive.”

“I don’t know about that,” Kuroo admitted.

Kenma was very much alive and he was constantly bombarded with reminders of that. That was the problem. Maybe if Kenma was dead he wouldn’t need to-

He cut his own line of thinking off before it could continue. There was no need for that.

“That’s okay,” the therapist said with a nod, “The idea may not resonate with you and that’s okay, but at least think about it.”

“Sure,” Kuroo said, absolutely not meaning it. It was a ridiculous sentimient. Kenma wasn’t dead. How could he grieve someone who still existed?

As he walked out, he quickly regretted his decision to schedule the session in the morning. He had to go to work, but all he wanted to do was lay down and cry after telling his woeful life story to a complete and total stranger.

While giving a presentation to the President of the JVA, Kuroo was thinking about nothing volleyball related. His mouth moved, discussing the action items for the next quarter, and his hands moved, gesturing and clicking through slides, but his mind wasn’t there. He couldn’t help but wrack his brain in trying to discover what could possibly have triggered the shift in quests. Therapy had temporarily distracted him from that quandary, but now that his mind was free to wander, and thinking about therapy made him feel disgustingly vulnerable, he was back at it. For what reason did the quests go from sweet little memories to teeth gritting arguments?

Once he finished his presentation, he sat down and googled Kenma, something that ended up causing him more internal turmoil than he’d thought it would. He’d hoped that it’d inspire an answer, but his mind stayed empty of anything but useless old memories.

”I’ve got an interview with the news today,” Kenma said, snuggling into Kuroo’s arms.

It was an early Saturday morning and neither of them were about to go anywhere. They had everything they needed in that bed, each other and a pile of warm blankets.

“Mm,” Kuroo hummed, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

He meant it with no judgment, just curiosity.

“I was afraid to jinx it.”

Kuroo placed a kiss on his head.

“I’m dating a real life celebrity. That’s kinda fucking wild.”

It wasn’t until he was unlocking the door to the apartment did the answer strike him. In retrospect, it should have been obvious, but clearly his brain wasn’t exactly functioning correctly. Therapy broke it.

The Siamese cats weren’t just random stand-ins. They gave more valuable things and were much more convenient than Konekenma, always being exactly where he needed them when he needed them.

All Konekenma gave in comparison to the cool gifts was his love and Kuroo had to work much harder in order to get it.

“Then don’t complain about me being a ghost,” Kuroo said, “I like doing fun things. They do fun things with me.”

“Sorry that all I have to give you is my love,” Kenma said.

Kuroo rolled his eyes.

Of course.

Kenma felt left behind. He felt like Kuroo had abandoned him for cooler, easier to love people- and it wasn’t for no reason- Kuroo had abandoned him for cooler, easier to love people. It was the honest to god truth of the matter.

Kenma was sitting at the table, sobbing in the middle of the night. Kuroo wondered if this was a normal thing that he usually missed because of their disparate sleep schedules, but probably not. Kenma was being really loud about it. He firmly debated just going back to bed, but instead rolled his eyes and got up to head into the frontroom. He wouldn’t be able to sleep with all of that noise anyway.

“What’s wrong, Ken?” Kuroo asked, wiggling his legs to try to keep himself awake.

Kenma looked up at him with wide tear-filled eyes.

“I think it occurred to me,” he said, wiping his face on his sleeve, “How hard I am to love. It must be impossible.”

“Hey-“

“Which is why you’re slipping towards not loving me like you used to,” Kenma interrupted, his voice raw, “It’s like climbing the side of a cliff, huh? I know it has to be so hard. So impossible and all for what? Nothing. All you end up with is me.”

What neither of them knew in that moment was just how much Kuroo regretted letting that conversation go unfinished. He wanted to slap his past self for refusing to work on his relationship. He killed the best part of his life- destroyed the best person in his life- because it was a little bit of work. Climbing the cliff was nothing if it was for the person who deserved it.

What a fucking idiot he was.

Feeling like he needed to be productive, Kuroo cleaned the entire kitchen, meticulously wiping away any crumbs and dust that had gathered on the counters. It had been far too long since he’d last cleaned.

The two breathed heavily, coming down from an excellent bonus round of sex. Kuroo watched as Kenma tilted his head back against the cabinet, surely steadying his heart rate like he always had to afterwards.

Kenma wrenched his eyes open when Kuroo laughed.

“You know how I said you needed to clean the kitchen?” Kuroo asked.

“Yeah,” Kenma said, his nostrils flaring in distaste.

Kenma hated cleaning the kitchen, a fact Kuroo was all too aware of.

“Now you really have to clean it unless you want to cook on a jizz covered surface,” Kuroo pointed out, “Maybe you could get a cute little maid outfit to wear for me while you do it.”

“Kuroo Tetsurou, love of my life, do not test me, or your dinner will be extra sticky tonight.”

Kuroo had been working on self acceptance, so he didn’t feel too much guilt when he pulled the game up on his computer. The guilt would surely come later when he was reliving one of his mistakes in a cute little cartoony town. It was a poetic juxtaposition, not that it made it any easier.

He sent Konekenma into the nearest bar, knowing very well that they’d had many fights with alcohol involved over the course of their relationship. Surely there’d be a good one to stab him right in the heart. He didn’t know why, but he craved the pain that he knew it would bring. Deep down he knew that he deserved it.

He clicked on the bartender who was standing behind the bar and had a quest indicator.

The sketching was different than normal this time. It was animated instead of being a still image and it was even done in color. The man poured something orange into a shaker and then something brown. He shook it with ice and Kuroo watched, the blood draining out of his face.

That was a mistake he really, really didn’t want to relive. It would be more pain than he bargained for. It was well over the acceptable level of martyrdom.

”Welcome home!” Kenma said, immediately getting up from the couch to hug him, “I did the thing.”

Kuroo was decently intoxicated and shifted his weight awkwardly to accept the hug without falling over.

“Hey, babe,” Kuroo said, kissing Kenma on the forehead.

Kuroo always liked Kenma more when he had been drinking.

“Are you,” Kenma started, pulling back, “Are you drunk right now?”

“Yesh,” he said, patting Kenma on the head.

Kenma looked upset, but didn’t pick at it or even ask why Kuroo was drunk when he’d just gotten back from work.

“So I bought the stuff for the shots,” Kenma said instead of arguing, gesturing towards the counter.

Kuroo looked over to see the orange juice and coffee liqueur on the counter and nearly gagged. He glanced at the open garbage can, a backup plan in case it became needed. For once it was a good thing that Kenma never shut the damn lid.

“Uh, that’s gonna be a no from me.”

“What?” Kenma asked, “I mean, we’ve been talking about this for weeks.”

Kenma wasn’t exaggerating. One of them had read online that orange juice and coffee liqueur mixed tastes exactly like chocolate candy and neither of them could get their head around how that could have possibly made sense, so they determined they would try it together.

The only issue was that every time one of them stopped for groceries, they forgot to grab those two things as they wouldn’t have had them otherwise. Kenma didn’t drink terribly much and neither of them were particular towards juice.

The one time Kenma did remember while at the store, Kuroo was on a round of antibiotics and couldn’t be drinking anyway, so Kenma figured it didn’t make sense to get the stuff in case the orange juice went bad before they had the chance to make the drink. It had only taken them two months to acquire the ingredients so they could finally try the shot.

“Well,” Kuroo said, grabbing onto the counter to steady himself, “I’ve had too many of them and I’m gonna uh eject if I have another.”

“What?”

Kuroo wasn’t so drunk that he couldn’t see Kenma’s rage. He’d have to be unconscious to miss it.

“They taste exactly like chocolate,” Kuroo admitted, “It was pretty wild.”

“You had one without me?” Kenma asked, more accurately accused him, anger written in every line of his face.

“A few,” Kuroo clarified, “I had a few without you.”

“Where? With who?” Kenma asked, staring him down. “Where the fuck even were you?”

“We had a party at the office and my boss’s girlfriend wanted to try them too so she brought the stuff,” Kuroo explained, reaching into the fridge for some water.

“Hold it,” Kenma said, an eerie calm taking over his voice, “What office party?”

Kuroo froze, the fridge still open. Kenma had him pinned in place.

“Work had a party for the holidays,” Kuroo said with a sigh, “Don’t worry. I got a ride home.”

“And why wasn’t I there?” Kenma asked.

“‘Cause you don’t like parties,” Kuroo said, bravely shooting him a look.

“You didn’t even bother asking me to go or even tell me about it. Why?” Kenma asked, crossing his arms.

Kuroo tipped the fridge closed and mirrored Kenma’s body language, quickly regaining his drunken composure. Two could play that game.

“Well, because I knew you wouldn’t wanna go so I didn’t put the pressure on you.”

“I would have gone,” Kenma said, “I almost always go to stuff when you ask me.”

“Not what I said,” Kuroo pointed out, “I said you wouldn’t wanna go.”

“I’m a grown ass adult and can make my own decisions about the things I want to spend my time doing,” Kenma said, his tone eerily measured.

It was almost more scary than if he were to yell. Kenma was terrifying when he was angry. Not terrifying enough to get Kuroo to act like an adult, but terrifying enough to put him on the defensive.

“Fine. Okay? Ya caught me!” Kuroo said, throwing his hands up, “I didn’t tell ya ’bout it because you’re always so clingy at social events and we have to leave early because you’re always so anxious and that’s so fucking lame! It’s so fucking lame!”

Kenma’s eyes widened and Kuroo immediately realized the gravity of the statement which he’d made.

“Are. You. Fucking. Kidding me?” Kenma spat, “I can’t go to your office parties because I’m a loser? Because I have an anxiety disorder? That’s your answer? So you lie to me about it?”

Kuroo was right. The yelling was far more scary than the manufactured calm. It wasn’t even close.

“Hey now, chill. I didn’t lie about shit!”

If Kenma could yell at him, at least he could throw it back.

“You wanna split hairs right now? Really?” Kenma asked, his lips pursed, practically vibrating in anger.

“You know what? Sure. Yeah. I lied. Happy now?” Kuroo asked.

“Why would you doing even less than the bare fucking minimum make me happy?”

He felt sick as he directed Konekuro to duck out of the bar. He was not about to finish that quest. In no way, shape or form would he even try.

”I just wanted to have this stupid drink with you and you go out and have it at work with a random woman!”

The fight had ended approximately three times but they both kept coming back for more.

“Fine. Let’s have one,” Kuroo said.

It wasn’t the first time Kenma had taken issue with his bisexuality.

“I don’t want one anymore,” Kenma responded, sounding like a petulant child.

Kuroo let out an aggravated sigh.

“Pour the damn drink,” Kuroo said, slowly, “You will love the flavor.”

Kenma stared at him before delicately breaking the seal with a pleasant crack. He flung the top off and began pouring the juice down the sink.

Kuroo simply stood there and watched him as the juice flowed down the drain.

“This is exactly why I don’t take you to office parties,” Kuroo observed with a snort, “You’re the world’s wettest blanket.”

Kenma slammed a fist on the counter as tears began to stream down his face. He turned away, leaving the half empty jug in the sink and ran to their room, locking the door behind him.

Kuroo grabbed the jug of orange juice, poured some into his mouth and then opened the bottle of liqueur and did the same. The drink was so damn good, but he had no idea that it would soon be colored by the fact it tasted like words he could never take back.

Out of the many mistakes they’d both made throughout their relationship, that one stung him badly, raising his heart rate simply by thinking about it. It was easily in the top five. Arguably even vying for the top.

Making it worse was the fact that the argument laid a horrible, hopeless foundation for the rest of their jagged relationship.

Kuroo walked into their room, a heavy weight on his shoulders. Kenma glanced up from his laptop and Kuroo could clearly see that he was writing code for work.

“A couple guys at the office are having a party because someone on my team is retiring. We’re going to a bar and significant others are coming-“

“Get out.”

“I want you to come with me, as my boyfriend,” Kuroo said, “I’d like to make amends.”

“Make amends how?”

“Inviting you to a work party because I was a self-absorbed asshole and didn’t do it last time.”

It took a lot for him to admit it out loud. He didn’t entirely think that he was self-absorbed, but maybe he was, just the tiniest bit.

“Sorry. Unfortunately I can’t go,” Kenma said, putting on his best puppy dog eyes.

They used to work on Kuroo. When they were young and happy, Kuroo would have given him anything when they appeared, but no longer.

“I didn’t even tell you what day it is.”

Kenma threw his head back and laughed, a manic, terrifying laugh.

“It’s not the time that’s the issue,” Kenma practically sang, his smug voice raising alarm bells in Kuroo’s head.

Kenma reached over to the nightstand and grabbed an open water bottle, spraying it onto a blanket that had fallen to the floor.

“Really?” Kuroo asked.

Why did Kenma make making amends so damn hard?

“You should probably go grab me another water bottle,” Kenma giggled, “This blanket isn’t nearly wet enough.”

Kuroo quickly shut the computer off entirely. He was going to be sick. In a small corner of his mind, a voice whispered that nobody who wasn’t him would know how to complete that quest, but the voice was drowned out by the wave of sadness crashing over him. He closed his eyes, trying to steady himself, but it was too late. The tears had already begun to slide down his face.

He sniffled quietly, in a dignified manner, for a few moments before something decisively broke inside of him. He started to sob, his entire body wracking as the tears came harder and harder.

He cried at his desk like that for a long time. It was only until he desperately needed a tissue that he got up.

He walked into the kitchen and grabbed a tissue before thinking better of it and grabbing the entire box.

He paused in thought for a moment and then shakily opened his messenger bag, taking out the book he’d been given to read.

He didn’t want to hurt anymore.

He wanted to unclog the tub.

Chapter Text

As he got onto the train, Kuroo noticed a boy with a Bouncing Ball branded backpack. The logo practically bit him.

He was having a great day. Work was uncharacteristically rewarding- they set up a charity tournament for the little ones and it was absolutely beautiful outside. If their apartment was a mile closer to the JVA office, he almost certainly would have just walked home.

When he stepped onto the train, he saw a teenage girl wearing a Kodzuken hoodie. He was looking at it, trying to remember what merch line it was from when she looked up from her phone gave him quite the dirty look.

“I’m sorry,” he said, shaking his head, “I promise I wasn’t being creepy. I was just trying to figure out who Kodzuken is. I feel like I’ve heard of them before but it got lost in my head.”

“Oh, he’s this dumb video game streamer my boyfriend likes,” she said, rolling her eyes, “It’s his sweatshirt. He’s just this dude who plays video games and talks to his fans while doing it. He’s good at the games but I can’t stand his voice. He’s all quiet and complains about graphics a lot or whatever.”

He, of course, knew Kodzuken was Kenma, but logistically, that would have tipped him off even if he didn’t. Kenma had a regular bone to pick with game developers. Kuroo was very familiar with his tirades, and graphics were his favorite one.

“Good to know,” Kuroo said with a nod, “Sorry to bother you.

He immediately pulled out his phone and sent Kenma a text: ‘Met one of your fans today! She said you’re going to change the game industry for the better one day! Loves your thoughts on graphics.’

Kenma’s reply came quickly: ‘You’re adorable and absolutely full of shit love you tho!’

It wasn’t a long ride to work by any means but he missed when he had someone else on the train to keep him occupied, whether it be sharing a game, a conversation, or simply just his space with someone he loved.

“Guess what,” Kenma said, excitedly pulling his handheld from his backpack.

“What?” Kuroo asked, frowning as he stared out the window.

He had so much homework to do. His third year of high school was no joke.

“We can both play,” Kenma said, “Wanna kick my ass at chess?”

Kuroo smiled and looked back at Kenma.

“Absolutely.”

He pulled out his borrowed novel and started to quickly flip through the pages, looking for the perfect section. It needed to be short enough that he would be able to finish it before he reached his destination. It needed to actually be applicable to his situation, and lastly, it needed to be something that wasn’t going to cause him to have a breakdown before work.

Kuroo was pretty sure playing a game of chess on the internet, not only on his office computer, but also during a stakeholder meeting was not only against the rules, but also highly frowned upon, and yet, he couldn’t force himself to care. It was only a virtual meeting anyway, and he had pretty much nothing to add to the topic at hand. It wasn’t his area of expertise.

He did, however, turn off his camera so he could play in peace, focusing on his strategy. It had been awhile since his last chess game. Hidden away in a small focus room, he almost felt like he was back in his apartment.

”I agree entirely,” Kuroo said, sending a meeting invite.

He shot a sideways glance at Kenma who was quickly approaching to make trouble of some sort. Kuroo could tell. His face gave him away.

Kuroo was hoping the meeting would end before Kenma succeeded at whatever he was about to do, but the meeting dragged on and on, and on and on. He held in a sigh as Kenma snuck under the desk and pulled off Kuroo’s pants. Kuroo figured letting Kenma take them off would look less suspicious than him fighting against something below the camera.

“I would love to introduce you to MSBY. They are in Osaka, but I think they’ve got the type of players you’re looking for,” Kuroo said, “The team has a young and energetic vibe.”

He felt something wet on his thigh and glanced down to see Kenma drawing on his skin with some sort of paintlike substance.

The first things Kenma drew were a bunch of hearts, both endearing and harmless, but then it got worse. Kuroo’s leg became a mural of ejaculating dicks and incredibly raunchy propositions from Kenma.

The word ‘cockslut’ appeared in the corner of Kuroo’s vision and he did his best not to blush.

He honestly couldn't care less whether or not the JVA changed their mascot if they were sponsored by some company to do so. Sure, he was literally in the sports promotion division, but he truly was indifferent on this one.

His work had apparently blocked one of the chess websites he used, but not the other one, so he was playing with a lower ELO than he should have had. It was much easier than it should have been. He also missed playing with someone who knew how to play chess. Ever since Kenma had actually bothered to put the effort into learning how to play, he was an excellent rival. It didn’t take long for him to pick it up either. Kenma’s wit was one of a kind.

Kenma was clearly steaming about something while Kuroo was considering his next move. Kuroo neither really knew what his issue was nor particularly cared.

“Mm,” Kuroo said, jolting a bit as his alarm went off, “Rice is done.”

He moved one of his pieces and got up to finish making dinner. By the time he got everything set, Kenma was still staring at the board. It was a beautiful board. Kenma had it custom made as a gift for Kuroo, but that probably wasn’t why he was staring at it.

“Need a refill?” Kuroo asked.

“No,” Kenma said, shaking his head, “I need a boyfriend who refills the water filters.”

“Pardon?” Kuroo asked, bringing Kenma his food.

“You never refill the fucking water,” Kenma said, looking up at him.

“Okay?” Kuroo said, confused.

“You haven’t filled it in months,” Kenma said, already digging into his food, “I’ve filled it every single fucking time.”

“I don’t fill it because you fill it,” Kuroo responded, slowly, “Because then it’s full.”

“But I’m not the one who leaves like a quarter of a glass of water in it and nothing else. I also am always the one to keep the water filled in the coffee maker. It’s been months since you’ve done that.”

“Uh,” Kuroo started, sliding down into his seat, “Why didn’t you- I don’t know- tell me about this months ago? I didn’t know it bothered you.”

“Because I was hoping you’d get your shit together.”

“I’m so confused right now,” Kuroo admitted, “I can’t read your mind. First it was because I never join you in the shower and now it’s the filters.”

Perhaps the common denominator was water. Maybe Kenma just got particularly heated about water.

“Ugh,” Kenma grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“No, no ugh,” Kuroo said, crossing his arms, “This is exactly why I keep somehow pissing you off. You never just tell me what’s going on inside of your head.”

Kuroo looked over to the monitor with his work meeting on it. He’d missed several chats. He scrolled through them to see nothing but the usual dry office humor. Yes, it was Monday, the worst day of the week. What a tragedy. How could anyone ever recover?

He rolled his eyes as two of the participants in the meeting started discussing what they were having for lunch. Why was that even vaguely relevant to the meeting?

”How was your first day at the office?” Kenma asked, already making him a drink.

“It was crazy,” he said, “Like I somehow immediately became an adult.”

“As per my last email,” Kenma said, mimicking an old man, “I definitely think our new initiative is moving the needle.”

“Ugh,” Kuroo said with a laugh, “I don’t think I have the bandwidth for this.”

“Hold on,” Kenma said, “Can we circle back to that?”

He handed Kuroo the drink and kissed him on the cheek.

“You keep this up and we’re going to have to take this offline,” Kuroo said, bopping him on the head.

“I actually don’t know that one,” Kenma admitted.

Kuroo watched Kenma struggle to grab a bag of pretzels from the cabinet above his head, so he just grabbed them for him.

“It means, ‘fight me, bitch’,” Kuroo explained.

Kenma immediately squared up and gently ‘punched’ Kuroo in the the stomach. Kuroo, of course, pretending like he was dying, dramatically doubled over and even spilled some of his drink. Kenma snorted.

Kuroo typed into the text box ‘We should ban Mondays’ before deleting it. He wasn’t that guy. He didn’t want to be that guy. He would never be that guy.

He stared at the recommended videos, specifically the third one. Apparently Kodzuken was live, doing a throwback stream of Metal Gear Solid. His throat went dry, knowing the throwback was to a time where Kenma played with his kid friend, Kuroo.

Did Kenma’s fans know that? Was Kenma telling them? He slowly moved his cursor closer and closer to the stream.

Was he strong enough? How would he feel if Kenma was telling his fans? How would he feel if Kenma wasn’t? Did he just want to know or did he want it one way or another?

Should he watch the stream? Could he? Would he survive it?

He was so focused on his decision that when his phone rang, he startled enough to knock his beer bottle off the table. Thankfully he hadn’t opened it.

He frowned in distaste as he put the call on speaker, setting the phone and beer bottle back on the table.

“I’m in the middle of something,” Kuroo said, curtly.

He wasn’t close to his sister, but he couldn’t imagine that his sister grew up in any better of an environment than he did. He wondered if she had a boyfriend and if so, how that was going for her. It wasn’t like they spoke terribly often. They didn’t even follow each other on social media, so he had no way of knowing if she’d turned out just as poorly as he did.

“Fine, no small talk,” she said with a sigh, “I’ve been helping Mom move and I found a box of your old stuff in her bedroom.”

Kuroo crossed his arms despite her obviously not being able to see him.

“Don’t care.”

“You don’t care that our mom kept a box of your things in her nightstand?” she asked.

Her voice was delicate and he had no reason to be mean but he was out of grace.

“She’s not my mom.”

“Tetsu-“

“She’s not. I get that my dad isn’t yours. You need to get that your mom isn’t mine.”

“She’s thought about you for all of these years. She cared about you. I mean this box has all sorts of-“

Anger tore through his chest. His mother did no such thing.

“Goodbye, Teiko.”

His hands shook as he ended the call. He felt pathetic. The mere knowledge of a box of things in his mother’s nightstand was enough to push him over the cliff.

Anger that he didn’t want flooded every cell in his body and he thought back to the passage he’d read from his grief book earlier that morning. Even in his volatile state, he remembered the poignant phrasing verbatim: Your emotions are merely suggestions, just your reactions to the world around you. Feel them, really feel them, but then think about if it’s worth feeling that way. If it’s not, try to turn it into something else.

It was an impressive sentiment, and Kuroo had more than enough irrational anger rotting him from the inside out, but he struggled to figure out how to turn it into anything else. It was easier said than done.

Sadness could turn into art. Guilt could turn into self-improvement. Jealousy could turn into passion, but anger? The only thing Kuroo could fathom anger turning into was destruction.

Transferring the energy of anger into something more physical made Kuroo think of fists through the wall, broken dishes, and yelling-torn throats.

He knew he wasn’t going to be able to channel his anger into something new- his anger was channeling him, but why not try? What did he have to fucking lose?

His body moving before his brain, he found his way into the kitchen where he pulled out his recently sharpened chef’s knife. He ran his hand down the flat of the blade for a moment and took a breath.

”Mommy,” Kuroo said, scribbling his crayon across the paper, “Why do you keep yelling at Daddy?”

“Oh, sweetie,” she said, gently patting his head, “You’ll get it when you’re older.”

He frowned but continued drawing his house with four happy people in the yard. He made sure to give them extra big smiles.

“But doesn’t it make him sad? It makes me sad when you and Daddy yell at me.”

There was a moment of silence, so he finally looked up at her. She also seemed sad. Why did nobody in his family smile?

“Some people need to be yelled at,” she said, “Aren't you a better boy when I yell at you?”

She was right. He was a bad boy and he needed to be yelled at to learn how to be a good boy, but something still didn’t quite make sense.

“But Daddy is already a good boy so you don’t need to yell at him.”

“Your father is a very bad boy,” she said, “You’ll do well to remember which of your parents actually loves you, hmm?”

“But Daddy says he loves me.”

“Yeah, he told me that too, but he’s a liar, you know that?”

He was doomed from the very start.

He set the blade down on the counter and went into the fridge to grab his container of mushrooms. He washed them in the sink with too hot water and then tossed them on a cutting board.

He started to chop them slowly, meticulously, making sure that each one was sliced the same size.

”Okay, kids,” his father said, “I’m going to drop you two at home to have some fun with your mother.”

Kuroo wasn’t stupid. He’d noticed a trend that his parents hardly stood in the same room as each other anymore. He glanced over at his sister. Did she know what that meant? Did she even notice the change?

He missed the days when they all spent time together. There was usually yelling and flaring tempers and usually at least one of his parents stormed off, but at least they all started in the same room.

He chopped faster and faster, more erratically, mushroom pieces all over the board. He breathed in and out, his breath quickening as he went back into the fridge to grab his bell peppers.

He ran them under hot water and began to derib them, shaking the seeds into the garbage.

”What the hell?”

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. More specifically, he couldn’t believe who he was seeing.

“Tetsu-“

“You didn’t tell me you were in Tokyo,” Kuroo said, “Were you not going to visit me?”

“Now who is this?” the man sitting at her table asked, looking like he was ready to extend a hand.

“He’s my-“

“I’m nothing of hers,” Kuroo interrupted, “Now tell me. You came out here to Tokyo. To what? Meet this guy? And you weren’t going to call me? You weren’t going to ask to see me? Do you even care?”

“Don’t speak to her like that,” the man said firmly, inching closer to Kuroo.

Clearly the short man was braver than Kuroo thought. Squaring up to Kuroo was not a wise idea.

“Wait,” Kuroo said, “Do you even- does he even know who I am?”

“Tetsu- don’t-“

“She used to be my mother,” Kuroo said, coldly, “I'm the child she abandoned when he was eight. The one who she promised to visit but said she could never afford to go to Tokyo. It’s been how many years, Ma? Nine?”

“You know that-“ she started.

“That what? I’m nothing to you?” Kuroo looked back over at the man, “I just got a scholarship to my dream school. Not like she’d know. She never picks up the damn phone.”

“Sweetie-“

“I’m not talking to you,” Kuroo said, not even looking over at her, “Careful. You better not for a second act like my dad or she’ll drop your ass. Go ahead. Ask her what I did to make her hate me.”

The three of them were suspended in silence. Kuroo clenched his hands and turned around, vowing to never speak to his mother again. He briefly wondered if she’d tell the man that she abandoned her first-born son because he had the audacity to ask his father, rather than his mother, to come to his career share day and in doing so, somehow picked a side in their marriage, a decision he was unaware of and unable to change.

Knife down. Press hard. Press forward. Chop. Push. Slide to side. Again. Again. Again. Breathe. Breathe harder. Grab more. Clean. Press down

“You deserve better than him,” his father’s gruff voice came through the phone, “Dump him.”

“I mean, it’s not like anything else is going on but this is the second date in a row he’s been late for,” Kuroo said, glancing around the restaurant to make sure Kenma hadn’t walked in, “That’s all.”

His dad laughed.

“That’s how it starts. It only gets worse from here,” he said, “Better make like your old man.”

“I can’t cheat on Kenma with someone half my age because I’m not interested in grade schoolers,” Kuroo said, his voice quiet but harsh.

“Excuse me?”

“What? You’re going to deny it?”

Kuroo wasn’t sure why he was picking a fight with his father over the phone while at a restaurant, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

“What I did in my spare time-“

“Who you did in your spare time,” Kuroo corrected.

“Was none of your business.”

“So it was true then,” Kuroo said.

He already knew it was true. He in no way needed the confirmation.

“You're really going to defend your mother?” his father asked, “After I stepped up to the plate to raise you?”

Kuroo laughed.

“I’m not defending her. Also, you’re literally my father. It’s not stepping up to the plate. It’s doing what you signed up to do in the first place.”

The response came almost instantly.

“If I knew I’d have to raise you alone, I wouldn’t have bothered to have you.”

That was also something Kuroo knew as a fact and didn’t need confirmation of. It wasn’t like his father tried to hide it.

“I mean, it’s not like you really tried all that mu-“ Kuroo said, “Never mind. Kenma’s here. I’ll call you back.”

“Hey-“

Kuroo ended the call. He sent yet another text to Kenma asking where he was and when he was going to arrive.

There was no response.

He went faster and faster as he went, his heart pumping with every single slice. His brain churned along dragging him through everything that made him who he was and his hands churned along chopping every piece of uncut produce he could find.

His actions sped quicker and quicker until he was outpacing his own ability and grazed the knife across the back of his hand.

“Shit,” Kuroo hissed, looking down at it.

The knife broke only the top few layers of skin, not enough to draw blood. He set it down on the counter. That was enough prep for one day. That was enough anger for one day as well, but he still felt it building inside of him.

Noticing that he was breathing far too heavily to just be standing in one place, he tried dragging his breath in and out, but slowly and with purpose. He focused on his heart rate, trying to calm it down. He closed his eyes, pressing his hands against the cool countertop. He was in control.

There was nobody there but him. There was nobody there who saw him lose control. There was nobody there to judge him. There was nobody who would even know he was angry, so was he? There was no harm and therefore no foul.

He wondered if he could fool people even if they were there. Would he be able to hold his tongue? Still his shaking hands? Keep his brain running on all cylinders? Could he take his anger and turn it into something else?

He didn’t think he’d ever be that person. People like him weren’t meant to be calm, civilized individuals, but the thought was tantalizing. How many friendships, jobs, relationships could he have saved if he knew how to feel his anger and then release it or transfer it?

What about his relationship with himself? Could he become a person worth loving if he didn’t let anger consume him everytime he thought about the kind of person he was? He didn’t know. He didn’t think so, but damn he wanted to try.

He took one final measured breath and opened his eyes. He glanced around the kitchen to see absolute carnage. There were no less than five cutting boards and a dozen vegetables chopped into tiny, uneven pieces.

His laugh started as a stuttered exhale out of his nose, but began traveling further down. It fell from his mouth, tickled the back of his throat, and settled deep into his stomach.

What on earth was he going to do with that many chopped vegetables?

Kuroo was playing with fire and he knew that. As he wrapped his gyoza, he sighed, fully accepting that each bite was going to taste both similar to Kenma’s gyoza, and yet, significantly worse than Kenma’s gyoza. At least due to his previous night’s escapade, the ingredients were all pre-chopped so the failure would take less long to acquire.

Kenma didn’t sing terribly often, but when he would make gyoza, it was an entire show. Standing in his apron, he’d belt out different songs, mostly anime theme songs.

Kuroo laughed and decided to close his laptop and help Kenma cook. They sang together as they worked on preparing their snack.

Kenma got up in Kuroo’s space. Standing on his toes, he kissed up Kuroo’s neck, teasingly sucking once or twice before whispering in his ear, “Your knife skills are horrible.”

Kuroo automatically shivered, like he always did when Kenma whispered in his ear. Kenma placed a firm smack on his ass before going back to singing, and Kuroo focused extra hard on making sure to cut the cabbage to the right size.

By the time he finished making them, he almost wasn’t hungry anymore, but nevertheless, he brought them into his room where he booted up his computer. He still had his own feelings to hurt through a videogame, the perfect entertainment to partake in while he was eating a meal that made his feelings hurt.

”God, the way you type that code,” Kuroo moaned, “Gets a guy going.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Kenma said, not even bothering looking up to glare at him.

“Mm, so authoritative,” Kuroo continued, “Put me in my place, Master- Daddy- Master Daddy.”

Without any warning, Kenma grabbed a gyoza and whipped it at Kuroo’s head, but he managed to catch it in his mouth.

“Damn your reflexes.”

“These are so good,” Kuroo said through his bite, “Almost as good as your juicy-“

“Kuro!” Kenma exclaimed, flinging another one at him. He caught that one too, but only in his hands that time. “Oh, for fucks sake. Just let it hit you.”

“Yes, Master,” Kuroo moaned, “Hit me again.”

Kenma sighed and threw another one at him. Kuroo didn’t move a muscle.

“Oh, good boy,” Kenma said, sarcastically, “Real talk though, I’ll take a fifteen minute bang break if you’re offering.”

He liked the thought of being called a good boy, even if it was just sarcastic.

“I’m always offering.”

Kuroo typed in his passcode and wandered around the town, not feeling particularly drawn to any of the places that were offering a quest. Eventually, he walked into a plain building.

When he got inside, he saw that it was an office and there was exactly one person in it. The man at his desk seemed to be in distress, deep circles under his eyes as he typed away at his computer. He was either there before or after everyone else and was drinking coffee.

Kuroo clicked on him to reveal an image of a train and a phone with the text ‘on my way’ typed into it.

He still remembered the moment as clear as day. There was no other possible solution.

Kuroo bounced up and down, still waiting at the train station. He called Kenma again, and to no surprise of his, nobody answered the phone. He glanced down at it to see he’d called Kenma fourteen times in the previous hour. It was hopeless. He clearly wasn’t coming.

He’d been waiting at the station for almost two hours and he was tired, sleep pulling at the corner of his eyes. He jammed a harshly worded text to Kenma into his phone to sit below  all of the others and then started walking back to their place.

He didn’t particularly like Kenma walking alone in their neighborhood. There had been a recent string of muggings in the area and he was worried about Kenma’s safety, but Kenma was nowhere to be found. He told Kuroo he’d be there soon and then simply no-showed, leaving no message as to where he was or when he was going to be there.

Kuroo seethed as he unlocked their front door and dramatically tossed his keys at the counter. They bounced off and landed on the floor with a clink. He didn’t bother to pick them up.

All he did was go into the fridge to grab some hard alcohol; Maybe it would soften his anger. He sipped away at it directly from the bottle. By the time he’d polished off about a quarter of it, his lover finally returned his call.

“Hey, I’m so-“

“I waited for you,” Kuroo spat, “For almost two hours. What the hell?”

“I decided to stay late and forgot to text,” Kenma said, out of breath, “I was busy.”

“Where are you now?” Kuroo asked, anger dripping in his tone.

“I’m just getting to the station,” he said.

“And why couldn’t you have, oh I don’t know, taken five fucking seconds to tell me your plan changed,” Kuroo asked.

“‘Cause I didn’t think about it,” Kenma said, quietly.

“Really? You didn’t think about it? For two whole hours while I was standing at the station?”

“Yeah.”

“Wow.”

Kuroo froze. That one was Kenma’s mistake. Kenma even acknowledged that- apologizing so many times for it in the week after it had happened. None of the quests had been Kenma’s mistake before.

Kuroo clicked on the office clock, but it didn’t do anything. He frowned and then clicked on the phone. That made more sense. The issue wasn’t that he stayed late. It was that he didn’t think to text.

He heard the door open but he couldn’t care less. He didn’t feel like talking to his boyfriend.

“I’m back,” Kenma said, taking off his coat and walking towards where Kuroo was sitting on the couch, “And I’m so so sorry. Really, I know I fucked up bad. This was all on me.”

“Yeah, it certainly wasn’t on me.”

“I know, I know,” Kenma said, getting on his knees in front of Kuroo, “Please let me know how I can make it up to you. I’ll never do it again.”

He did do it again. Twice.

The cutscene started and it was a rather short one. Konekuro jumped on the desk and pawed the phone onto the floor. The man, of course, got up to grab it and instead of sitting back down, grabbed his coat and put his stuff away.

‘Operation Overtime: Complete! You can find two Siamese cats around or Konekenma on the top of the parking deck. They will give you a prize.’

The realization of what was happening sat heavily in his stomach. This game hadn’t become a testament to Kuroo’s mistakes, a way for the developer to vent his anger over their poisoned, failed relationship.

This was about something else entirely: fixing those mistakes, regardless of the perpetrator.

Chapter Text

Kuroo was very curious as to what mistake he would be quickly fixing before work that day. His general rule of trying to only play after work had flown out the window while he was playing during work, so he figured playing over breakfast was fine. At least that way he wasn’t playing instead of doing what he was paid to do.

He had no idea what was about to hit him when he walked Konekuro into the nearest building. When he got inside, it was clearly a movie theater. The woman with the quest indicator was standing in line at the ticket counter.

He clicked on her to reveal sketches of a broken heart and another woman’s face. He bit his lip for a second before he noticed that another character on the screen had the exact same face as the one in sketchings.

There was nothing Kuroo loved more than trashy comedies. Something about the lack of realism when everything became a chaotic mess allowed him to live vicariously through people who were living far more interesting lives than his own. He grew up in constant chaos, but it wasn’t a comedy, it was a recurring nightmare, so movies like those allowed him to soothe those old aches.

He yawned as he stood in line at the ticket counter. He grimly thought to himself that concessions would be a lot cheaper now that he wasn’t paying for Kenma’s snacks anymore.

He looked over at the concessions to see if they had anything that piqued his interest and his heart sank.

The hair on the back of Kuroo’s neck stood on end. Simultaneously, it couldn’t be, and yet, it had to be.

Kenma was standing there, flanked by two people who Kuroo vaguely recognized as people he streamed with on occasion.

“Next,” the cashier called.

Kuroo’s mouth went dry as he tried not to think of how pale Kenma looked and how heavily his dark eyes were sunk into his face.

He knew why Kenma was there. Surely the closest people to being his friends brought him to go see a funny movie, to get him out of his head. To distract him from the breakup that broke him.

Kuroo glanced over at Kenma again as he walked up to the ticket desk.

Kenma caught his eye that time and mouthed something, nodding towards a theater but Kuroo wrenched his gaze away.

“Sorry,” Kuroo said to the cashier, “I changed my mind.”

He walked out of the theater, slowly and calmly.

Dread scraped at his stomach and he looked away from the computer, glancing up at the clock. He was going to be late for work if he didn’t leave immediately, and even that was cutting it close.

He stood up, stumbling away from the table and left his dishes where they were, the quest uncompleted, his morning a disaster.

The entire way to the train station, his mouth tried to fit around the words that were swirling in his brain.

What. The. Fuck.

Kuroo was pretty sure there was a balloon in his lungs that just kept inflating. He felt like he couldn’t breathe, every second that passed bringing a broader and broader push against his chest from the inside.

He knew exactly two things. One, he was probably about to cry, and two, he really needed to figure out this new series promotion. Their manager had dropped the ball on it and now they were stuck picking up the pieces.

“You all good, Kuroo-san?” his coworker asked, eyeing him with concern as she grabbed another dry erase marker.

“Yeah, everything is fine,” he lied, “I’m going to take five and be right back. I promise I’m not abandoning you.”

He hoped he wasn’t abandoning her.

Each muscle, each ligament in his body was screaming for him to run. He didn’t know if he was supposed to be running from something or running to something, but he tried to control the adrenaline that was coursing through his body.

After. That scene was after they’d broken up. Why? Why would he program that into the game? Why would he be programming after they broke up? At least the arguments could have been programmed while they were still dating, but this made no sense.

Kuroo’s lip quivered as he took his phone out. He quickly called a number saved in his phone, one he’d considered calling a lot lately. The call connected immediately.

“Yes, hello,” Kuroo said into the phone, his hands shaking, “My name is Kuroo Tetsurou and I could really use an emergency appointment if you have one available.”

By the time he got to the therapist’s office, the thought of actually broaching the subject seemed a bit overwhelming. He spent the first few minutes of the appointment willing himself to speak, but words were hard to find and harder to say.

“Well, I should probably tell you about the game,” Kuroo finally got out, nervously shifting in his chair.

“The game?”

He was doing really well at working through some of his emotions without even acknowledging the game, but that clearly was coming to an end.

“Yeah, well, so here’s the thing, and I know it sounds bad but hear me out-”

“You know, when most people say that to me, they then proceed to tell me something that’s not really that concerning at all. You’re probably being too hard on yourself,” his therapist said, crossing his legs, “With that in mind tell me about this game.”

Kuroo wasn’t listening. He was just focused on talking.

“Well, Kenma is a game developer and he started making this game before we broke up,” he started, his voice shaking, “It kinda documents our relationship and it was one of the last things he wanted me to do for him before we broke up but I never played it until now.”

It felt weird, saying those words out loud, like they ruined the sanctity of it all, this weighty secret he shared with nobody was now exposed. His throat constricted.

Maybe that wasn’t entirely correct. Maybe he had been unknowingly sharing the secret with Kenma too. That thought floated through his brain, and he was suddenly sure of it, but he didn’t know what it meant.

“Okay, so far it sounds pretty normal to me,” the therapist reassured.

“And, so I started to play it, right, and how it works is there’s these tasks you have to complete,” Kuroo explained, trying to keep his composure, “But they’re all things from our relationship, like it started off as the cute things like how we met and different memories of dates and now it’s all of our fights.”

“Your fights? Do you mind giving me an example of how that works?”

“Sure,” Kuroo said, swallowing, “So one time we fought because I hid his computer charger because he kept working on vacation and we fought about that so in the game I had to show one of the people where their charger was. Stuff like that, right?”

“That makes sense,” he said, “I can imagine that’d be hard for you, having to relive these memories over and over.”

Kuroo laughed, a sour, mirthless laugh.

“I actually do that constantly outside of the game, so really it doesn’t matter much. I’m haunted by his memories all of the time, everywhere I go.”

It was true. Sort of.

“Grief is a funny thing,” he said, “So, why tell me about the game if it’s just like normal, then?”

Kuroo couldn’t hold the eye contact any longer and looked over at a painting on the wall. Of course, it only made him think of Kenma. There was a memory tucked away in the oil painted flower petals.

Kuroo was wandering around his apartment, throwing a pity party, when he heard a knock on his apartment door. It was Valentine’s Day and he was painfully alone. Who dumps someone the day before Valentine’s Day?

He opened the door to a flower delivery and immediately perked up. His girlfriend was taking him back. Everything was going to be okay. They would get back together like nothing happened. He ignored the worry at the back of his throat that the flowers were sent before the breakup and couldn’t be canceled.

He picked up the bouquet and immediately tore into the attached card. It wasn’t from his girlfriend. It was from Kenma, a card wishing him well after his breakup and saying he wished he wasn’t stuck at Nekoma or they’d do something fun to get his mind off of it.

Kuroo frowned, smiled, and then frowned again. He brought the flowers inside and set them in a vase. They were rather pretty.

“Because I was playing it this morning and, uh, while I’d kinda figured he was still developing the game, one of the tasks was the only time we’d seen each other after our relationship had, uh, ended,” Kuroo explained.

He bit the insides of his cheeks, anxiety taking over.

“And how are you feeling about that?”

It took Kuroo two entire seconds of thought before he started crying. He didn’t know how he was feeling about it. He didn’t know what it meant, and he certainly didn’t know how he was supposed to feel about it. All he knew was that his body wanted him to cry and he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

“Sorry,” Kuroo said, leaning forward to grab the tissue box, “I didn’t mean to start crying.”

The man in front of him just gave a reassuring smile.

“Funerals, eye doctors, bonfires, and therapy all have something in common,” he said, “Crying is inevitable. It’s okay to cry anytime, but here is a place where I’d be surprised if you didn’t ever cry.”

Kuroo nodded, desperately wiping at his eyes, but the tears just continued to come.

“I, uh-“ he started, but his throat kept constricting. He couldn’t force any of the words out, which wasn’t the end of the world because he wasn’t sure what to say even if he could, “Sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. Crying and talking are incompatible,” he said, his voice gentle, “Some of my patients prefer me to share my thoughts while they cry and some prefer silence. Do you have a preference?”

Kuroo held up one finger with one hand as he wiped tears away with the other. He figured it would take some of the pressure off.

“You want me to share my thoughts?” he asked and continued when Kuroo nodded, “Okay, so don’t feel like you have to respond right away, but you told me last session that Kenma couldn’t communicate well at all. Is that right?”

Kuroo carefully scribbled the asking price for the car in the notebook he’d brought with him, shook the man’s hand, and said he’d be back.

He glanced over his notebook, the clean lines all filled in with the different cars he’d looked at that day, their make and model, their asking price, their color, their mileage, what the test drive was like, and the place that was selling it.

He was done for the day and all peopled out. He couldn’t imagine Kenma being forced to interact with strangers all day like that, but Kuroo was technically adjacent to sales at work, so he had a leg up on dealing with the monotony. Even so, it was a bitch of a day and he was excited to go home and pour over the list with Kenma. He was elated to help Kenma buy his first car, but he had two more places to go first. He stopped for takeout on his way back and then at Kenma’s favorite boba place.

He walked in, excited, and greeted Kenma who was working from the couch.

“Hey, babe,” Kenma said, getting up to help Kuroo with all of the things he was juggling.

“I have a surprise for you,” Kuroo said, kissing his forehead.

“I see that,” Kenma said, grabbing the drink, “I’ve been craving this so bad lately.”

“Not that,” Kuroo said, helping him clear off the table so they could eat.

“Then what?”

Kuroo beamed and opened the notebook to the right page.

“I knew you wouldn’t want to bother everyone about a car because you hate that stuff, so I looked for all of the places that had used cars with what you were looking for. I wrote everything down,” he said, sitting down. His face fell when he saw Kenma’s expression.

“Uh, thank you,” Kenma said, glancing anywhere but at Kuroo.

“What’s wrong?” Kuroo asked, the rice in his mouth turning sticky.

He knew Kenma well enough to be suspicious of the general vibe he was giving off. Kenma was about to say something that was going to piss him off. Kuroo was sure of it.

“I decided I don’t want to get the car yet,” Kenma explained, “I want to upgrade to better streaming equipment first.”

Kuroo’s jaw dropped.

“Are you fucking kidding me?”

Kenma shook his head.

“I think I’d rather invest in the setup now than the car,” Kenma said, “I can go another year without one.”

“When did you decide this?” Kuroo asked, trying not to let anger tinge his tone.

“Few days ago,” Kenma said, quietly.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Kuroo asked, desperately trying to keep his voice down, “I was out all day visiting countless dealerships and you don’t even want a car?”

“I didn’t know you were going to do that.”

“And I didn’t know you just decided to undo a big financial decision we’d talked about,” Kuroo responded, crossing his arms.

Kenma scrunched his lips before picking up the notebook.

“I can get the car,” he said, shrinking into himself.

Kuroo nodded, working through some deep breaths. It was by no means a lie. Kenma was a terrible communicator.

“I can’t help but wonder if this game was Kenma’s way to communicate with you,” the therapist said, “Was it particularly successful? No. Should he have tried other, better ways of talking to you? Absolutely, but I’d be surprised if this game wasn’t an attempt for him to reach out.”

Kenma looped his fingers into his belt loops and Kuroo could tell he was biting his lip from the inside.

“Did you play the game yet?”

Kuroo felt like a black hole opened up within him. There was a zero percent chance his therapist was wrong. Kenma was trying to tell him things through the game and Kuroo was too stubborn to listen to him.

Kuroo squeezed his eyes shut and nodded.

“So, that begs the question-“

“Yeah,” Kuroo said, blinking tears out of his eyes, “Does.”

“I don’t know,” the therapist admitted, “I don’t know what it means.”

Kuroo briefly considered asking the therapist why he didn’t know. Wasn’t it his job to know? In the man’s defense, Kuroo didn’t know either and Kuroo had a longer time to think about it, and significantly more context.

If Kenma was using the game to communicate, why would he add something in after they’d been broken up? What was he trying to say and why was he trying to say it?

Kuroo had originally been very nervous about telling his therapist about the game. He didn’t want to be told not to keep playing it. He didn’t think he could stop, even if that was the right thing for him to do for his mental health and general sanity, but his therapist seemed pretty okay with it on the assumption that he was sorting out his feelings about it appropriately.

Sorting his feelings was by no means a strong suit of his, especially with the caveat that he needed to do so in an appropriate manner, but he would at least try.

He was starting off really strong with the leftover dread from that morning’s quest. He knew it was dread he was feeling. That was one emotion identified. Maybe he could do this.

He pulled up the bookmark to the game, but something besides the passcode and pawprints popped up on his screen.

‘Server is temporarily or permanently unavailable to connect.’

Shock. That was the second emotion. It was undoubtedly, unquestionably, unabridged shock.

Server error? No. That couldn’t be right. It couldn’t be over. Kuroo jammed the refresh button. It brought up the same error each time.

Optimism.

Maybe it was just his wifi. He typed random characters into the search bar and the search went through, but maybe the wifi needed to have more stability to load the game. He reset his router for good measure, but the same error kept popping up.

Concern.

His leg was bouncing aggressively as he stared blankly at the error screen.

Anxiety.

This couldn’t be over. He wasn’t done yet. There were still quests for him to complete. He had to. This was important to him, to right the wrongs they’d both committed over the years. Mending the memories of his failed relationship meant more to him than he could ever explain.

Frustration.

It wasn’t a real second chance by any means, but he was drawn to the fantasy that he could fix his relationship with Kenma, that he could start all over and do it right.

Grief.

But now, that rich fantasy was torn into nothing more than mere memories, failed, a perfect mirror of the first time around: mistakes and then nothing.

Nothing

Chapter Text

“I wanted your thoughts on if I should do it?” Kuroo asked his therapist after a long winded explanation of the death of the game and his many consequent emotions.

“Do you really think that now is the best time to accept a date offer from someone you don’t really know who randomly sent you mail on social media? When you’re reeling from the game being down?”

“Well, yeah,” Kuroo said, “Nothing I can do about the game but why not try to move on as soon as I can? What I had was over.”

“Okay, we will loop back around to the entirety of what you’ve just told me in a second, but don’t you think it might be a better idea not to date until you heal a bit more?” the therapist asked, “What if you go and you spiral again?”

“I mean, I assume that’d be what would happen,” Kuroo admitted.

There was a moment of silence between them.

“I don’t understand. Wouldn’t you like to date when you can do so without it causing you significant distress?”

No, because that defeated the point.

“I deserve to see how nobody will ever be better than Kenma and how I fucked it all up,” Kuroo said.

“Try again. We’ve talked about this.”

“I do, though,” Kuroo insisted, “Don’t you think it’s the least I can do to pay for my mistakes by having them rubbed into my face?”

“Nobody deserves suffering-“

“We hang criminals after forcing them to wait for years to be taken out,” Kuroo pointed out.

People should suffer for the things they did. It was about payment, recompense, the way the real world outside of therapy worked.

“You’re not a serial murderer. You’re not a rapist. You’re not a child abuser,” his therapist said, “You’re a man who ruined a relationship by being rigid, rude and inflexible while in hard circumstances. You don’t rob stores. You don’t sell drugs to children or lace them with poison.”

He ruined a life. Two lives. If Kuroo was told to read a book on grief, wouldn’t that imply that something was dead? And if something was dead, he was surely the murderer. Was it murder suicide?

“But alcohol is a drug, I mean-“

“Yes, and you’ve never driven drunk right? You’ve never blacked out and hurt anyone?”

He refused to see others while he was drunk and spiraling. Nobody deserved to see that, to be subjected to that.

“Well no, but-“

“Then your alcohol use isn’t even a sin at this point,” he said, “It’s just another way that you punish yourself. And for what? Does making yourself miserable make you a better person? Does ruining your body and your mind really help anything? Would leading this person on during a date actually help you process this?”

Kuroo didn’t think so, but it was the only way he knew how to make himself grow. Without harsh words or the stinging of his skin, how would he know that he needed to change?

“This was a chill idea,” Kuroo’s date said, “You’re really cool, you know that?”

“What do you mean?” Kuroo asked, sipping his too hot coffee.

“First date crepes is kinda awesome,” the man said, waving his fork, “It’s unique. Breakfast places have great first date vibes but nobody does it. I feel like sometimes you gotta ignore what dating is ‘supposed’ to be like and just do whatever works for the two people, ya know?”

Kuroo had slept rather soundly after the stressful day he’d had and was prepared to do nothing but sleep the morning after. That was a perk of having an incredibly sleepy boyfriend. Kuroo could sleep as late as he wanted, uninterrupted.

“Kuro, Kuro,” Kenma said, nudging him awake.

“Huh?” Kuroo grunted, yawning as he opened his eyes.

“Go put on pants,” Kenma said, “It’s Thursday.”

It took Kuroo a minute to track what in the hell Kenma was talking about. Every Thursday Kenma actually got up semi-early to go sit down at a breakfast place. Kuroo found it wildly out of character but apparently the tradition had been going on for a while.

“Can’t I sleep?” Kuroo asked, narrowing his eyes at Kenma. He didn’t particularly want to go through the fuss of going out to eat so early, “You can go without me.”

The only reason he was even around was because he took off work that day and the day after to have a long weekend to hang out with Kenma.

“Nope,” Kenma said, excitedly getting up from the bed and turning the light on, “Breakfast vibes are the best vibes. Let’s get some crepes and coffee and shit.”

Kuroo was so tired, but the happy-go-lucky smile on Kenma’s face wore down every single one of his defenses.

“Sounds like fun.”

“I’m glad,” Kuroo said, trying to smile, “I feel that way too.”

“I also wanted to ask, did you play volleyball in high school? One of the Tokyo schools, right?”

Kuroo looked up at him. He was certainly a pretty guy. He was also funny and seemed rather kind. Kuroo reeled in a good one.

“Nekoma,” Kuroo said, “Did you?”

“Seijoh,” he said, “Not that you’d recognize it. I only know you because I saw you play at nationals.”

“Where’s Seijoh?” Kuroo asked.

“Y’all played Karasuno, right? We’re pretty close to them. They beat us out in prelims our third year for the Spring tourney.”

“Oh, Aoba Johsai? You play with Oikawa-senshu?”

”What in the fresh hell is going on right now?” Kuroo asked, walking into Kenma’s room.

Sitting there was Shouyou and Kenma, a whiteboard between them covered in illegible writing in a multitude of colors.

“Magic,” Kenma said, unhelpfully.

“You need candles for the demon summoning to work?” Kuroo asked.

“The only demon we need is you, Kuroo-san,” Shouyou said, “We need your blocking thoughts on Aoba Johsai.”

“Yeah, demon, take a seat,” Kenma said.

“Yeah, and I bet you know Iwaizumi Hajime through work, huh?” Mattsun continued, “Played with him too.”

“I love Iwa-kun,” Kuroo said, “Small world, huh?”

“Small world,” he confirmed, “My blocking carried them both. Where’d volleyball superstar Oikawa Tooru be without his middle blockers?”

Kuroo laughed, a man after his heart. He was great. The date was excellent. The normally terrible small talk wasn’t terrible at all. There was just one issue.

The waiter came by with the check and Kuroo immediately grabbed it.

“I’m happy to pay,” Mattsun said, “Or at least halve it.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kuroo said, taking out his wallet.

“I’ll pay for the next one then,” Mattsun responded with a wink.

Kuroo’s sighed, scratching the back of his neck.

“There isn’t going to be a next time. You’re incredible and probably really great for me, but I’m still hung up on my ex. I agreed to come on this date because something happened that made me really need to move on, but it clearly didn’t work,” he said, his words quick, “I’m so so sorry for wasting your time. You’re going to find someone so much better than me. I promise.”

Kuroo noted that he was feeling a spiral of misery and that perhaps his therapist knew a few things after all.

Kuroo wasn’t going to do it. He wasn’t going to check to see if the game was working again. Just because he had one date go poorly didn’t mean he had to run directly back to the (dis)comfort of his (no longer) relationship with Kenma. He didn’t need to know what was going to happen next in the game. He did not need to know what other quests Kenma had added and he certainly didn’t need to keep digging around in the aching open wound, and yet, the temptation was there, stronger than ever.

He needed a distraction and needed a distraction badly. He typed the text and hit send without bothering to proofread it.

‘Yo, wanna grab drinks I cna come by your area if needeed.’

Bokuto responded almost immediately: Come to my place some of the guys are here too.’

Kuroo grinned at his phone. He did it. He found a distraction. It was that easy! To his knowledge, Bokuto didn’t even have a functioning computer and the game surely didn’t work on mobile, so there couldn’t possibly be any cat games at Bokuto’s apartment even if the game was back online. Kuroo was a genius, a professional at managing his emotions and desires. He was killing therapy and all of this self-improvement stuff.

As it turned out, there was an entirely different Kenma-adjacent problem at Bokuto’s apartment that he couldn’t have possibly anticipated: everyone there was disgustingly in love.

From Sakusa talking shit about everyone else to Atsumu while he sat on his lap.

”There you are,” Kuroo said, taking a seat next to Kenma.

Kenma was watching the game in a rather hidden corner. It took Kuroo a lot more effort to find him than usual.

“Someone recognized me on my way in,” Kenma said.

“That’s actually kinda awesome,” Kuroo said, turning away from Kenma enough to smile.

“They wanted an autograph, which is crazy,” Kenma continued, “It’s not like I’m famous or anything so I just awkwardly signed my name.”

“That’s gonna be worth a fortune in a few years,” Kuroo said, his eyes crinkling at the corners.

“Unlikely,” Kenma said, “Also can we talk about Atsumu’s new hair? It looks almost green.”

Kuroo laughed.

“Tell me about it. We were getting pre-game coverage and it looks terrible on camera. It looks like it’s molding.”

“When I was bleaching, I never had that happen,” Kenma pointed out, “Are you doing post-game work, too?”

Kuroo shook his head.

“I’m off the clock.”

“Great. That means we can talk about Bokuto-san’s heinous commercial.”

“Oh my god,” Kuroo said, “For someone so expressive, he’s such a horrible actor.”

To Bokuto and Akaashi feeding each other desserts.

”Save some for me,” Kuroo whined, “You’re the one who convinced me to get something else so we could switch.”

Kenma looked up at him and glared, but paused their show. He set his wine down on the end table and closed the takeout container, making his way over to Kuroo and straddling him.

“Open.”

Kuroo’s eyebrows quirked for a second but he opened his mouth as instructed. Kenma spooned some of the raspberry lava cake into his mouth.

“Goddamn, that’s good,” Kuroo said after finishing his bite.

“Why do you think I ate most of it?” Kenma asked with a laugh.

Kuroo wound his hands into Kenma’s hair and pulled him in for a long kiss. Kenma softened into his arms before pulling back.

“You should eat it while it’s still warm,” Kenma said, spooning out another bite.

Kuroo shook his head.

“You can have it,” he said, “I’ll just finish mine.”

“Are you sure?” Kenma asked, “We were supposed to split.”

“As good as that is, I like mine better,” Kuroo said, leaning over to grab his incredibly boring tiramisu. He definitely would never order it again.

Or even Hinata, Meian, Inuaki, and Barnes playing a heated game of cards.

Kenma quickly slapped the deck, but he wasn’t fast enough. Kuroo’s hand made it under his, so he got to pick up the cards.

It was a wonder he was staying even close to Kenma in the score. He could tell that Kenma had both of their hands and the orders memorized which gave him an enormous advantage, but still, Kuroo’s haphazard playing style, which hinged upon his insane reflexes, was getting the job done.

“Cakes ready!” Kenma’s aunt called downstairs.

They made eye contact, silently agreeing to finish the game before heading upstairs.

Kuroo focused carefully on the cards being played and saw two of the same cards in a row, so he went to smack the deck.

Kenma beat him there that time, but there was a much larger issue. He’d slammed the table so hard that the old rickety thing crashed to the ground. They stared at each other, wide-eyed for a moment before attempting to fix it. It was definitely broken beyond repair or at least the repairs available to unarmed preteens.

“You’re gonna get so grounded,” Kuroo said.

He wasn’t teasing, just stating it as the fact it was.

Kuroo was going to lose it. The lovey, friendly get-together only managed to make the lack of Kenma in his life more salient. It wasn’t particularly long before he ended up excusing himself to go home and do exactly what he was supposed to be not doing.

He nervously clicked into his browser and then to the bookmarked tab. It took a second to load, but then a passcode entry box appeared and little cat footprints bounced around. He felt like his chest was going to explode as he typed the numbers into it.

He was afraid it was going to be gone forever. That might have destroyed him.

Relief instantly took over when he realized the quests were all back up. Konekuro ran to the nearest possible option, a young girl hanging out in a beach house. She appeared to be doing homework or reading on the floor, her leg leaning against the door. He needed to finish them all. He needed to fix it.

He clicked on her and the only sketching that was added was a person on the other side of the closed door.

Kuroo felt an immense relief pour over him. That one wasn’t too soul crushing at all. As a matter of fact, as far as their arguments went, it was pretty tame.

He was tired of being tired and their shitty little bed with their shitty little mattress was definitely not helping the issue. He turned uncomfortably at night, his long limbs dangling off the side if Kenma took even slightly too much room.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep on the floor, but his nap had started out so uncomfortably that he slid to the floor in disdain, but eventually the exhaustion took him out and he conked out right where he was.

He woke up to the door slamming into his leg, jarring his knee. When he stood up, his knee pulsed in pain and he gritted his teeth.

“Holy fuck! Watch where you’re going!”

“You’re the one laying behind a fucking door!”

He remembered the result of the argument, so he was fully aware of what he was supposed to click on.

“I’m sorry for yelling at you,” Kuroo said, immediately taking a breath, “I got pissy because I was overtired and hurt.”

They’d only just started dating. The yelling seemed unnecessary.

“It’s fine,” Kenma said, “I’m sorry I hurt you.”

“You didn’t mean it,” Kuroo said with a smile, “Not that I’m planning on doing this again but we could put a note on the door.”

“Sure, love,” Kenma said, “Now let me kiss it for you.”

Kuroo briefly wondered when he’d stopped being that Kuroo.

He clicked the post-it notes and Konekuro bounded into the room and slid them under the door. That was all.

It wouldn’t make much sense to a stranger. Kenma had truly made it for him, not a portfolio, but he wasn’t ready to admit that.

‘Mission Meniscus: Complete! You can find two Siamese cats around or Konekenma on the top of the parking deck. They will give you a prize.’

He debated seeing what fun game modifier the Siamese cats had for him, but instead, he found his way back to the top of the parking deck to be given love. He needed the love. Every fiber of his being was waiting for Konekenma to love him.

He’d had the line more than memorized by then, but the deviation from the norm wasn’t why Konekenma’s response caught him entirely off guard.

‘I know you’re playing,’ Konekenma said, ‘and if you’re playing for the same reason I’m still developing it, please, please call me.’

Chapter Text

Kuroo’s jaw slowly dropped. He knew Kenma was still documenting their story, but he didn’t expect this. He recovered slightly, glancing at the time.

It was far past when he normally would have gone to bed, but the message was burned into his brain: ‘please call me.’

He told himself he would call in the morning. It was late and Kenma probably wouldn’t even be up. They surely both had work in the morning.

He carefully shut his laptop off and went about his nighttime routine, doing his best to get the endless swirling thoughts to calm enough for him to sleep.

He shut his lights off and crawled into bed, taking slow, deep breaths. For the first time in well over a year, he was going to call Kenma.

He relaxed his muscles into the bed, but before he knew it, his hands flew to his phone, fingers moving to make the call of their own volition.

He almost hung up while it was ringing, realizing it was a ridiculous hour to have that conversation, but he didn’t want Kenma to get the wrong idea seeing a missed call. For a second, he thought Kenma wasn’t going to answer and then panicked. He had no idea what on earth he was going to say in a voicemail. Perhaps something like, ‘Hello, I know we heinously broke up a year ago and haven’t spoken since, but like, ya know you said to call me whilst in your virtual cat form because I’m obsessed with making myself suffer through what I did to us. Just give me a call at your earliest convenience’ but that seemed absolutely ridiculous.

It was like he’d been sprinting on a treadmill at full speed and it suddenly shut off. It was exactly what he wanted, but this was all too soon. Time stretched out as he panicked.

He wasn’t ready for this.

Thankfully, and terrifyingly, during the fourth ring, the call connected.

“Kuro.”

The voice sent goosebumps down his spine. His name in Kenma’s mouth after so long without hearing it was going to kill him. His heart was going to stop right then and there. It was exactly how he remembered it.

“I saw your message,” Kuroo said, the words spilling out of him, “I miss you.”

“Oh, thank god.”

Kuroo was having trouble giving any sort of response. He was downright exhausted and the surprise of the situation wasn’t helping. His live wire thoughts and his sluggish body were at odds  

“I know now isn’t the best time to talk about it,” Kuroo admitted, “But I couldn’t help but call.”

He felt each and every word as he said them.

“I understand,” Kenma said through a yawn.

Kuroo wondered if he’d woken Kenma up. Surely he did. They weren’t in college anymore. They were adults with real jobs now and couldn’t stay up all night. Why couldn’t he have just waited until the morning? 

Kuroo strung some words together in the only way he could get his tired mouth to say them.

“So, uh, I guess I’ll just say I want to try to have you in my life again.”

There was a moment of horrible, horrible silence while he waited for Kenma to say something, to say anything. 

Had he messed it up already? Leave it to Kuroo to mess it up within minutes.

“Are you free after work tomorrow?” Kenma asked, finally.

His voice was detached, but not enough to set off alarm bells in Kuroo’s mind.

Kuroo mentally scanned his schedule before remembering that he pretty much never had plans besides work and therapy. That was probably a good thing- the last two non-work, non-therapy, plans he had went poorly for him.

“Uh, yeah,” Kuroo said, despite the fact that ‘tomorrow after work’ was damn soon, too damn soon.

He didn’t feel like he would have the decade of time needed to prepare for that conversation in less than a day. On the other hand, maybe ripping the bandaid off was better after all.

“Still get off at five?” Kenma asked, “I’ll get us dinner reservations and we can talk it out then.”

Of course Kenma knew when he would get off work. Why wouldn’t he? He lived with that schedule for quite a while. That didn’t make the statement tug on his heart any less.

“S-sounds good.”

Kuroo’s brain was churning on fumes. He wondered if in the morning he’d think it had all been a dream.

“We both need to get to sleep,” Kenma said, “I’ll text you the address and when to meet.”

Kuroo knew that going to bed was the right thing to do, but he wanted to hear Kenma talk for as long as he could before falling asleep. That sweet, low voice soothed his aches- it didn’t even need to say anything of substance to be more than worth the while.

“Uh, okay,” Kuroo responded.

But his desire to stay on the phone was more than just listening to a soothing voice. A large part of Kuroo felt like if he hung up, he’d never be able to talk to Kenma again. He was so used to not being able to talk to Kenma that it had become the default in his brain.

“See you then, bye,” Kenma said.

When they used to talk on the phone together, Kenma hung up the call with a different three letter phrase before the ‘bye.’ Kuroo missed being told that by Kenma. He didn’t even know if he wanted a relationship again, but he did know that he wanted Kenma to tell him that he loved him.

It was all so very complicated.

“Sounds good,” Kuroo said, “Bye.”

Kenma ended the call almost exactly as Kuroo was finishing the last word and Kuroo barely had enough time to throw his phone on the charger before falling into a heavy sleep.

Both the hand holding the phone and the hand in his pocket shook. He was sure his expression gave away everything he was thinking, but he didn’t have the wherewithal to worry about it.

“Hello,” Kuroo said, stepping into the vestibule in the back of his office building, “I’m Kuroo Tetsurou and my therapist said I could call him during the day if something came up.”

He told himself he’d never do that, that he wasn’t so weak he couldn’t hold whatever problems he was having inside of him until therapy, but the entire situation seemed like the epitome of ‘something came up.’ It was the understatement of the century. 

“Let me see,” the receptionist said, clicking her tongue a few times, “I’m gonna put you on hold for one quick minute.”

“Sure.”

He tapped his fingers rhythmically on the glass door and watched the rain begin.

”Are you done studying?” Kenma asked with a yawn.

Kuroo had noticed Kenma had spent their last hour at the library fucking around on his phone and getting no school work done.

Kuroo glanced down at the page number on his textbook .

“Almost,” he said, “But it’s raining outside. When is the rain clearing?”

“After you kiss me in the rain,” Kenma said with a suggestive look on his face.

Kuroo didn’t like getting rained on, but that certainly could be arranged. It was only drizzling a little bit and he did have an umbrella on him. Plus, he would do anything to kiss Kenma and would never, ever take those lips for granted. A little rain had nothing on the unadulterated joy of kissing his lover.

“Hi, I’m going to transfer you over to him now,” she said, “He’s in between patients so he should have a moment.”

“Thank you,” Kuroo said, but the line was already being transferred.

He felt his throat start to constrict. He wasn’t going to cry at work. He couldn’t cry at work. He would handle this call professionally, no emotion involved until he was in a safe place to show it.

“Thank you for calling,” the therapist said, “What can I help you with?”

Kuroo took vague detached amusement knowing that the man was about to be in for a surprise of a lifetime.

“I’m meeting Kenma after work,” Kuroo said, plainly.

The words didn’t feel real as he said them, like it was some kind of practical joke. It was all a facade and Kenma would no-show, leaving Kuroo to suffer on his own.

Kenma wasn’t cruel enough to do it, but Kuroo was insecure enough to think it.

“Holy shit,” the therapist said before clearing his throat, “Sorry, I wasn’t-“

“Don’t worry. I feel that way too. That’s why I’m calling.”

“I’m out of appointments for today but do you want to come in tomorrow around six so we can debrief?” he asked.

“Yes, let’s do that,” Kuroo said, quickly putting his phone on speaker so he could add the appointment to his personal calendar.

He finished quickly because he really didn’t want anyone in the office to walk in and hear who he was calling. He’d gotten much more comfortable with having a therapist, but not that comfortable. He thought it was good to have a therapist but he also thought his coworkers wouldn’t agree, and he needed his team to trust him.

“I wish we would have been able to see each other before your meeting and I’m very, uh, curious to hear how that happened,” the therapist said, “Here’s my very abridged advice. Think through the best case scenario, the worst case scenario, and then the most likely scenario. Write those down as well as anything you don’t want to forget to say to him and bring them all with.”

Kuroo wondered if his therapist thought that he was the one who called Kenma. Well, technically he did, but not without Kenma starting it.

“I can do that,” Kuroo said, squinting out the window.

“Good,” he said, “Now the trick is not to think about any scenario besides those three. If you’ve got the best and the worst down, that covers the range of possibilities so there’s no point to keep considering them and if you have your realistic appraisal ready, you have what you’re aiming for in mind.”

It sounded easy enough. It wasn’t like he hadn’t been running infinite permutations of the situation since the second he gained consciousness that morning.

“That’s actually a really good idea,” Kuroo said, “Thank you.”

“That’s literally my job,” the man replied with a laugh, “Anything else I can do for you before my next patient gets here?”

Kenma giggled, pulling Kuroo out into the rain. Kuroo couldn’t feel the rain, the cold, the uncomfortableness that came with being wet. 

The only thing he could feel was the warmth of Kenma’s hand and his smile. 

“Kiss me,” Kenma whispered.

Kuroo grinned, pulling Kenma in close.

”Anything for you, my dear.”

“No, I think I’ll be okay.”

He definitely wouldn’t be okay, but he couldn’t think of anything else to ask.

On its surface level, coming up with three scenarios seemed easy, but it was apparently a rather insurmountable task. As it turned out the thousands of interactions he’d imagined weren’t terribly easy to sort.

First and foremost, he didn’t think this was a common situation at all so the most likely scenario was the hardest to ascertain. He’d certainly never experienced meeting a lost love after over a year of radio silence. How was he supposed to know what in the hell to expect?

Second of all, he had no idea what he even wanted. He was so wrapped up in the fact that he was missing Kenma that he didn’t think further than that. It was yet another swirling mass of emotions he’d yet to untangle. In what sense did he actually miss Kenma? Did he want a friend? A lover? A forgiver? He had no idea. Obviously the best moments were when they were together, but so were the worst. He got the feeling that question would continue to nag at him, perhaps forever.

Third of all, his brain appeared to be offline. He stopped being able to think about anything except the objective fact he was going to meet with Kenma. There were no thoughts, presuppositions, or feelings about it anymore. Just simply the fact that he was about to talk to Kenma bounced around his brain, over and over, not allowing anything else inside of it.

Kenma. He was meeting Kenma. He was going to talk to Kenma. Kenma. Kenma. Meeting Kenma. Talking to Kenma.

By the time he packed up his computer to head to the restaurant, he didn’t have a single one of the three scenarios written out, but it wasn’t due to a lack of effort.

Kuroo walked out of his building and down the street, speeding up and slowing down. He wanted this conversation, so badly, but also had no idea what to do. He had no idea what to say. He had no idea what he wanted. 

Almost worse, he didn’t know what Kenma wanted and if he knew Kenma, Kenma wouldn’t be able to clearly tell him if their lives depended on it. What if he misinterpreted Kenma’s signals, sending the meeting spiraling? 

All Kuroo could do to try prevent that was to judge Kenma’s actions and to a lesser extent his words. Kenma was the one who said to call him and Kenma was the one who set the meeting so very soon after the call. Based on those things, Kuroo felt like Kenma would logically be excited to see him. He even seemed to be in some sort of hurry.

The evidence indicating the opposite, however, was just as convincing. Kenma’s tone of voice on the call was mostly flat, long silences between his responses. To pair with that, Kuroo was, well, Kuroo, and that was reason enough for Kenma to not want to see him.

Maybe it was closure.

Maybe all Kenma wanted to do was say his piece and tell Kuroo to pound sand. 

Kuroo paused for a moment, before picking up his pace. Maybe that would be the worst scenario? But no, at least then something good came out of it for Kenma.

He walked into the restaurant prepared to spontaneously combust at any moment. He didn’t know what was going to happen or what he wanted to happen. He hadn’t gotten that far before he left and he certainly hadn’t made any progress during his commute. All he knew was that he was going to explode at any moment. He walked up to the hostess stand and waited a moment for someone to show up to seat him. It seemed like he’d beaten Kenma there, or at least Kenma didn’t appear to be sitting at a table. 

“How many?” a woman asked, walking over to him.

“I have a reservation for two.”

“I’m sorry, sir. We don’t do reservations here, but,” she said, gesturing at the sparsely populated restaurant, “We can of course fit you in with no waiting.”

Was he in the wrong restaurant? He scanned it again for evidence of Kenma and still didn’t find any.

“One second,” he said, “Let me make sure I’m in the right place.”

He pulled out his phone and, sure enough, it was the right restaurant. Kenma had even texted that he had arrived. He frowned, dread scraping at his stomach. Did Kenma intentionally stand him up? Was this some sick, and probably deserved, payback? Was this all a set up? A cruel gotcha moment? Did Kenma realize that he was much better off without Kuroo after all? 

Kenma would never hurt him like that, right? That was Kuroo’s job. He was the one of the two that was meant to hurt the other.

“You didn’t happen to seat a man with long hair, did you?” Kuroo asked, hesitantly.

She glanced at Kuroo and then excused herself.

What was happening? Kuroo felt like he was about to be arrested for some crime against humanity. He wondered if this was what Kenma’s social anxiety felt like. He couldn’t imagine going into every social interaction feeling like this.

A different woman came up to the hostess stand, asked what he was there for, and explained the other hostess was new.

“I have a reservation for two,” Kuroo said, “It’s probably under Kozume.”

“Do you mind giving me your ID?”

Through his intense confusion, he reached into his pocket and grabbed his wallet. It wasn’t even that fancy of a restaurant.

“Uh, sure,” Kuroo said, handing the ID to her, “Oh, actually, duh. This isn’t going to work. I’m not him. I’m his guest.”

His ID certainly didn’t state that he was a Kozume, though for a short while, he was heading down that path.

”I can’t wait to go to your wedding,” she said.

Kuroo’s stomach turned. It was an innocent comment but the idea of marriage had always haunted him.

He simply didn’t believe in it after growing up and seeing multiple failed marriages between his parents and their new partners.

Being in an unmarried relationship meant so much more to him because it was much easier to just up and leave. There was no protection against defection. He could never quite figure out if that was important so he could leave an unhappy relationship or if it meant his partner could leave him if they were unhappy. Perhaps it was both, but either way, he believed an unmarried relationship showed more commitment than a married one. You could just up and leave a relationship at any moment of the day, but marriage? Marriage wasn’t that easy.

He knew the next step in his relationship was to get married, but his stomach twisted at the thought. He felt like marriage would ruin his relationship, so he really wasn’t interested, but then again, maybe refusing to get married would also ruin his relationship. He was trapped. Damned if he did and damned if he didn’t.

He would put it off for as long as he possibly could.

“I know, sir,” she said, apologetically, “It’s for Kozume-san’s privacy.”

Still rather confused, he handed her his ID. She checked it against something written on her tablet and then returned Kuroo’s ID to him.

“You can follow me,” she said.

Kuroo followed her back to a staircase behind the kitchen and into the basement. For a brief second he wondered if Kenma set him up to be murdered- he probably could afford an assassin after all- but then they got to the room.

There were only three tables in the entire basement, and Kuroo could tell right away that Kenma was sitting at one of them. Kenma looked up and waved stiffly, somehow looking both exactly the same and perfectly different than he used to.

“Thank you,” Kuroo said to the hostess, “He’s at that table.”

Kuroo walked over to the table where Kenma was sitting and felt an intense, irrational urge to give him a handshake. His brain was a mess. He blamed it on the fact that Kenma was wearing a rather nice suit. It was dressed down without a tie, but it was clearly very expensive.

He couldn’t tell if he was attracted to it or just damn jealous. It was certainly much more expensive than his own.

”Can I borrow your car?” Kenma asked.

His demeanor was throwing Kuroo off quite a bit. He looked on edge and in a hurry.

“Of course,” Kuroo said, getting up to go find his keys, “What’s going on?”

“I, uh, apparently got selected for an award at a networking conference this weekend-“

“Congratulations,” Kuroo said, giving him a warm smile.

“The issue is that I don’t have a suit and yours won’t even be close to fitting,” Kenma explained, exuding stress with every jiggle of his leg, “I’m going to go to thrift stores until I can find one that mostly fits.”

“Want me to drive you?”

Kenma looked down, appearing somewhat ashamed.

“If it’s not a big deal?”

“Hello,” Kenma said, setting down his menu.

Kuroo sat down and grabbed his own. Normally, Kenma’s slightly off expression would have been hard to read, but since Kuroo was doing the exact same thing, he could tell that Kenma was putting on a brave face to hide the uncertainty stirring behind it.

“You could have given me a heads up that I was being set up for an interrogation,” Kuroo responded.

It was supposed to be a joke. It really was, but his nerves about the entire situation made it come out flat, an accusation.

Kenma’s eyes widened in realization.

“Oh god, I’m so sorry,” Kenma said, “I’m only ever here for business and my partners are used to it. It prevents us from having unwanted guests. I totally forgot they ask for your ID to get basement access.”

Kuroo let out an inaudible sigh of relief. It was just a misunderstanding. He knew deep down that there weren’t any mind games being played, but it was hard not to feel that way at least somewhat. Kenma wanting him to sweat a little bit before their meeting didn’t seem that outside of the realm of possibilities, but he knew Kenma enough to know he wasn’t lying.

“No worries,” Kuroo said, grabbing onto the menu even harder so his fingers wouldn’t keep shaking, “I just wasn’t expecting it.”

Kenma playfully rolled his eyes.

“You aren’t used to ‘constantly being badgered in public’ me,” he said, “It’s actually a pain in the ass to take me anywhere.”

Kuroo’s immediate mental response was that it’d be worth it. He noted his own hypocrisy in what he’d previously thought was worth dealing with to take out Kenma. 

“I bet,” Kuroo said.

The conversation died for a minute. It was admittedly very awkward. Kuroo felt like crawling out of his skin. Thankfully they could pretend to look at their menus. Kuroo was almost positive they’d both figured out their order long before their waitress came by to take it. They stared intently at the different options over and over again. At least Kuroo had an excuse by being new to the place.

The waitress taking away their menus also took away their barrier. Kenma cleared his throat.

“So, I wanna get to it if that’s fine,” Kenma said, folding his hands in his lap.

“Sure,” Kuroo said, forcing himself to make eye contact.

This still felt like a business negotiation. He was going crazy. Maybe there would be a handshake after all.

“I’m going to lay it all out there,” Kenma said. That made Kuroo nervous. There was a very large amount of things to lay out there and most of them weren’t pretty. “A lot of my life was better with you in it. I am hoping you’d consider being friends again. I am hoping that in order to do that we could put our fucked up relationship behind us and start anew.”

Who was this person, volunteering all of those words and so succinctly and confidently at that?

“Uh, yeah,” Kuroo said, “I agree.”

Kuroo knew he had zero ground to stand on in this conversation. Every decision and idea would default to the stranger sitting across from him. Kenma had all of the power, and deservingly so.

“I also know myself well enough to know that I’m probably going to start having feelings for you again at some point, but I’m not asking to date.” Kenma said it matter of factly. It was downright terrifying if Kuroo was being honest. “I’m just letting you know. I’m in no way looking to get back together right now, but if at some undetermined time in the future, we decide to try a relationship again, we’re going to have to work through some- many- things, but for friends, I’d rather just put things behind us if you think that’d work for you. I am willing, in order to be your friend, to set it all behind me.”

Kuroo had to somehow stop his jaw from hitting the floor, so he took a sip of his water. This couldn’t possibly be the Kenma he knew. Where was the complete lack of eye contact and abundance of hedge words? Was there someone in Kenma’s ear feeding him lines? Why was he talking like that? 

“That works for me,” Kuroo confirmed.

He wasn’t sure if it actually did. Maybe Kenma shouldn’t put everything behind them. Maybe Kenma should yell at him. Like a lot.

“I’m glad,” Kenma said, clearly forcing a smile.

The forced smile wrecked Kuroo’s ability to not say what he probably shouldn’t say.

”I’m, uh, sorry, you know, and I-“ he started.

”Behind us,” Kenma said, firmly and politely.

Kuroo gritted his teeth to stop himself from continuing. Not apologizing was, in theory, the easiest thing he could do, but it felt impossible. Maybe he did really want a forgiver instead of a friend or a lover.

”Okay.”

The rest of their dinner was painfully awkward, like a first date from hell, an absolute facade, a mockery of casual small talk. Kuroo couldn’t help but get out of there as soon as it wasn’t outright rude to do so, though he was pretty sure Kenma was just as desperate to leave.

Awkward was an understatement.

Kuroo had exactly nothing to do once he got home, but he rushed there regardless, wanting to feel like he could tear off his brave, steadfast mask and dissolve into a puddle on his heinous couch.

He really wasn’t sure what to expect during the meet up- even though he was explicitly tasked to do so- but he hadn’t imagined for it to be so acutely awkward and formal. Frustrating, depressing, and magical were a few of the things he considered as likely outcomes when trying to figure out his scenarios. Wanting to crawl out of his skin due to embarrassment was not one of them. It felt like they’d just met for the first time, though maybe that wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

How had something he’d spent so much time imagining turn out completely different than he could have ever expected? A year of dreaming and that was the outcome? 

He took a deep breath as he walked into his apartment, locking the door behind him. It wasn’t particularly late in the evening, but considering the lack of sleep the night before combined with the painful meetup, he was at the end of his rope for the day.

He grabbed something to drink and sank into his couch. He knew he had to untangle the feelings he’d had about the situation, especially since he had therapy the next day, but he was lost.

It was his therapist’s job to help with that anyway.

He had never really figured out what he wanted from the situation, so it was a bit difficult for him to determine whether it was a success or not. It technically could have been worse.

The only thing he did know was that something had changed within him, something, like many other things, he couldn’t quite put his finger on.

Chapter Text

Kuroo was a bit afraid that nothing would come from their meeting, that they’d both balk at the awkwardness just long enough to decide that a friendship wasn’t worth pursuing. The meeting was nothing but painful after all.

Going into it, he didn’t know exactly what he wanted to happen but it certainly wasn’t fizzling back into total separation. Then again, if all of the time they spent together was going to go like the meeting, then maybe it was for the best.

Just as he was about to spend some time unsuccessfully untangling his unruly feelings about the situation, a notification lit up his phone. Kenma had sent him a post on social media.

Kuroo frowned and clicked into it, trying to ignore how much distance there was between that message and the one before it.

He read the post and it was just a run of the mill meme about a film series they’d watched together. It wasn’t even that funny. That was all it was, an unfunny meme, but it made him feel so much better. Kenma wouldn’t have done that if he wanted nothing to do with Kuroo after the meeting. It was an olive branch, a yellow light turned green.

That being said, he was still struggling to get a grasp on his feelings. Was the fear of continued awkwardness really sinking in? Was he already in love again? Was it mostly relief that he had his friend back? Was it regret? All of those? Some? None?

The only feeling he could discern was frustration at the fact he couldn’t figure out what he was feeling.

Kuroo had hardly closed the door behind him before his therapist started talking.

“So, you saw Kenma,” the man said, “Tell me everything.”

Kuroo wasn’t sure exactly where to start. After a long pause, he chose to go the emotion route rather than the chronological route, which seemed fair as it was therapy after all.

“It was fucking awkward,” Kuroo said, collapsing into his chair, “Unbelievably so.”

“Tell me more.”

“It was clear neither of us knew what to say or how to feel,” he explained, scrunching his nose, “It was so oddly formal like we were sitting there as if we haven’t known each other since we were kids. Like it was just crazy. My dick has been inside of him and the two of us were sitting there like strangers. I wanted to give him a damn handshake.”

Kuroo leaned down to kiss Kenma’s panting mouth. Kuroo watched as Kenma’s fingers grabbed at the bedsheet above his head. The way he was looking up at Kuroo was a scene from a movie.

“You’re beautiful,” Kuroo breathed, unable to utter anything else but the thought that was bouncing around his brain.

Kenma was beautiful. There was no denying it.

“Let’s unpack that for a second.”

Kuroo frowned. He didn’t really want to unpack it. Couldn’t they leave it where it was and slap a pretty bow on it? That seemed like it was Kenma’s method for handling the whole thing anyway.  

“Sure.”

He supposed unpacking was the whole point of therapy. He might as well get his money’s worth.

“So, it felt like you were strangers,” he started, “Would that be better or worse than the two of you having it out?”

Kuroo knew the answer- that the awkwardness was obviously preferable- but for some reason, he couldn’t say it. Why did the idea of them yelling at each other call to him? He didn’t want to fight with Kenma, at least consciously, but what if deep down he associated Kenma with yelling? He hesitated to voice that lest he be judged, but he was doing his best to trust his therapist, so he decided to give it a shot. 

“For some reason, I almost think I’d rather be fighting,” Kuroo said, “My brain says the awkwardness, but my heart says a fight.”

It was true, and the fact that he said it out loud seemed to only make it truer, if such a thing was possible.

“And do you know why that is?”

Not really. It didn’t make sense. He didn’t want to fight with Kenma. The whole point was to make up, not to fight even more. Did he feel guilty about the things he did to Kenma? Absolutely, but that couldn’t possibly be it. The hypothetical in question was the two of them having it out, not Kenma yelling at him. Though, admittedly, he probably deserved the latter.

“I don’t think I do,” Kuroo admitted, trying not to bite the insides of his cheeks. He had only recently busted the habit.

“Why do people fight?”

“Uh,” Kuroo said, mostly confused, “Because they disagree.”

“Sure, but why not just walk away? Would you fight with a stranger about something trivial?”

Did his therapist think his anger issues were that bad? Of course he wasn’t just telling off random people on the street. That would be ridiculous. Sure, sometimes he got so angry he forgot how to do anything except maim, but he wasn’t picking fights with strangers over nothing. His anger stemmed from a reasonable place- for the most part.

“No, but-“

“Would you ever fight with Kenma about something trivial? You’ve told me you have many times.”

“Well, yeah, but that’s different,” Kuroo said.

Kenma wasn’t actually a stranger, no matter how much they were acting that way at dinner.

“So why fight with a loved one but not a stranger on a certain topic?”

Oh.

“Because I care,” Kuroo said, “Because I want to resolve it instead of walking away. I wouldn’t fight with a stranger because they aren’t worth my time. I know I’m right so there’s no point arguing with a stranger, but Kenma?”

“So, continue the logic for me,” the therapist prodded.

Kuroo didn’t want to. He sucked in a shaky breath before speaking.

“I want to fight with Kenma because I care about him. My rightness doesn’t matter if the cost is losing him. Again. Losing him again,” Kuroo corrected himself, the words spilling out of him, “Right, wrong, or indifferent, I care about Kenma. I love Kenma. I don’t know what way I love him, but I do. I didn’t- don’t- want to feel like strangers. I want to feel like he cares about me enough to have the fight.”

”You know,” the man said, “That’s kinda what I figured.”

“I mean, I think you’re right, but he won’t let me have the fight so it doesn’t matter what I want,” Kuroo said.

“Apologies, I need you to rephrase that for me,” the therapist said, carefully, “Did you try to pick a fight with him?”

Kuroo felt a small wave of anger form inside of him. Did his therapist really think he was that stupid? Did the man really think that Kuroo couldn’t control himself for one fucking dinner? 

He took a breath in, acknowledged the accumulating anger, and blew it all out in one go. It probably wasn’t an entirely unwarranted question on the therapist’s end, and even if it was, therapy would be better spent not bickering about a single question.

“Okay, I’m going to start from the beginning.”

Kuroo was feeling oddly optimistic after his appointment despite his therapist being distraught that Kenma wouldn’t let Kuroo talk it out. The therapist just kept calling it an ‘unfortunate situation’ and said that Kenma was ‘doing them both a disservice.’ Kuroo agreed to a certain extent, but figured he’d only mess it up if they talked it out, so it wasn’t too big of a deal. They could both mend separately, but damn Kuroo wanted to have that conversation, at least to try, to let Kenma know that he was serious.

Kuroo’s therapist had tried to talk to him about making plans for handling the situation and how best to communicate with Kenma, but during their session, Kuroo was so focused on trying to parse out his feelings that he wasn’t particularly listening to that advice. They talked about how hard it was that Kuroo couldn’t say his piece, and the therapist even suggested telling Kenma he didn’t agree to the terms, but Kuroo wasn’t even entertaining the idea. He wasn’t about to throw this opportunity away over his pride.

While he wasn’t listening, his therapist probably told him that he shouldn’t push the envelope by asking to meet again soon, but he was feeling good and didn’t want to lose the nerve. He wanted to see Kenma, so he texted Kenma asking if he was free the next day. That was just how it worked. He needed to chase the things he wanted, and the thing he wanted more than anything else was Kenma.

Kenma responded almost immediately with a ‘no.’ Kuroo’s heart shattered, the glass cutting up his esophagus on the way down, but it didn’t bleed for long. The next message from Kenma came a few seconds later, explaining that he was busy and asking if the day after worked for Kuroo.

Kuroo smiled at his phone, teeth and all, and responded that he was free. He glanced at Kenma’s contact name and wondered if he should change it to something else. He had changed it to ‘Just Kenma’ when the breakup had started to hit him hard. He was trying to convince his heart to not flutter every time he thought of Kenma, nosed through their old conversations, or even just heard his name. He was no longer Kuroo’s Kenma. He was just Kenma. Just Kenma.

Kuroo decided to leave it as it was, frowning. He had a feeling he was going to have to continue to remind himself that Kenma was just Kenma or things were going to quickly complicate themselves.

Kuroo looked up Kenma’s address to find that his house was on the opposite side of Kuroo's apartment from the JVA. Kuroo decided it made sense to stop at home before making his way over to Kenma’s. It ended up working out well because it also meant he could change into something less formal. Maybe that’d help them find their old rhythm. Another meeting in suits probably didn’t set the casual vibe he was hoping for. He knew that comfort would bring him the answers he sought, but it was easier said than done.

He stared at himself in the mirror as he considered a few different outfits. He then realized that he was really overthinking things, to an extreme amount, so he just put on a pair of jeans, a plain black T-shirt, and a flannel. It would be good enough.

He hesitated with his hand on the doorknob to leave the bedroom and then stopped to check the weather. What if he was overdressed? Underdressed? Thankfully, it was rather temperate out and overcast, so his choice was plenty fine, which was good because he wasn’t optimistic he would be able to make another outfit decision.

He ended up taking his car to Kenma’s place even though public transport would have gotten him close. He had to admit that there was quite a bit of excitement coursing through him as he made his way there, winding through the pleasant subdivision. He was elated- terrified, scared, but elated nonetheless. He could feel his heartbeat, strong. Fast but strong.

He was seeing Kenma again.

This meetup was going to be as good as he wanted it to be, or at least that’s what he told himself as he rang the doorbell. He was practicing optimism, an entirely new look on him. He would also take a second to practice calming himself down before entering. All he had to do was put everything behind him. It was that easy. All he had to do was start anew and become the person he wanted to be.

It was hardly a few seconds more before Kenma opened the door, so he couldn’t finish preparing himself, but that was fine. He generally preferred to jump into the deep end anyway. Leaving his brain to its own devices was rarely a good idea.

“Hey,” Kenma said, waving him inside, “Welcome to my humble abode.”

The second Kuroo saw Kenma, he felt significantly better than he did the first time they’d met up. He was wearing torn sweats and a t-shirt, something Kuroo was much more used to seeing Kenma in, but more than that, Kenma was smiling. His eyes even crinkled at the corners. It was a genuine Kenma smile. There was no doubt about it. Kenma was truthfully, honest to god, happy to see him. Kuroo wasn’t quite sure why. Maybe Kenma was better at putting things behind him than he was.

“Thank you for having me,” Kuroo said, taking a moment to remember how to walk before stepping inside.

The house looked much bigger on the inside than it did on the outside. It must have been bigger than both of their childhood homes combined.

“Nah, thank you for coming,” Kenma said, a ghost of a smile still on his lips as he locked the door behind him.

The action gave Kuroo a good look at Kenma’s braids. They were admittedly a good look on him. Two basic braids hung down behind his back. He’d apparently gotten much better at braiding in the time they’d been apart and Kuroo felt a strong urge to run his hands over them.

Kuroo watched as Kenma yawned and walked into their room. He dropped the towel onto the floor and threw on a pair of pajamas. Kuroo considered scolding him. He hated when Kenma left towels on the floor, but he didn’t bother. It wasn’t like Kenma was going to change all of a sudden after never bothering.

The next time Kenma came back into the room, he was holding up a comb to Kuroo.

“Can you braid my hair?” Kenma asked.

“I don’t know how to braid,” Kuroo said, finally giving up and closing his book.

“It’s easy. I can show you.”

“If it’s easy, why don’t you just do it yourself?” Kuroo asked.

“Uh, sure,” Kenma said, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Kuroo thought nothing of it as Kenma walked out to braid his hair in the bathroom by himself. Kuroo just shrugged and returned to his novel.

“This is a really nice place,” Kuroo said, keeping his hands firmly to himself.

“I’d give you a tour but I genuinely believe nobody could possibly care that much about someone else’s house,” Kenma said with a laugh, “I will show you my game room, though.”

An entire room just for gaming? Kenma really had made it.

Arms sore from passing back and forth the new ball Kenma’s mom bought them, the two boys walked back home. It was almost Kenma’s curfew. Kuroo didn’t have one. His dad probably didn’t even notice he was gone.

”What do you wanna be when you grow up?” Kuroo asked, setting the ball up to himself, over and over.

”I wanna be rich,” Kenma said, “I wanna have a big room with big screens like a movie theater and cool reclining seats and big gaming posters and hundreds of controllers decorating the wall. I want all of it!”

Kuroo thought that sounded ridiculous, like a corny fantasy land, but it was the most excitement he’d heard from the other boy so he didn’t comment on how unrealistic it was.

Kuroo wondered just how much Kenma made. He knew it was a lot, but the place was absolutely massive. Kenma’s stream of income must have at minimum quadruped in a year.

Kuroo followed him up the stairs and couldn’t help but stare in awe at the game room.

It had enormous windows and two large TV screens in front of them. There was a huge wooden organizer with all sorts of consoles below them. Different games for each console were stacked to the ceiling in glass display cases. Each bit of space was perfectly used to showcase the games or create a comfortable playing environment. It was beautiful and so very Kenma. Seven year old Kenma would pass out if he stepped even one foot inside.

“This is insane,” Kuroo said, nodding in respect.

He was personally most excited about the furniture, enormous bean bag chairs, movie theater seats, and what looked like a heated kotatsu. He was sure Kenma got plenty of use out of it. Kenma was always cold.

Kenma smiled.

“Everyone said having the display mounted against the bay windows didn’t make sense because it should be dark in a game room,” Kenma explained, “But I think it’s nice to be able to see outside if I want to. It’s easier to choose if I want to lose track of time or not.”

Kenma didn’t need to elaborate. Kuroo understood very well how sometimes losing track of time was much preferred to the alternative. The urge to ask who the ‘everyone’ that Kenma talked to about the game room was, but he decided to leave it alone. He had no right to ask.

“I think it’s awesome,” Kuroo admitted.

He moved closer to the organizer and realized he wasn’t even able to even name some of the newer consoles. He was very behind when it came to the video game world. So much had changed.

“Wanna play MGS?” Kenma asked, pulling one of the braids over his shoulder.

Stress in the form of tension immediately lifted from Kuroo’s shoulders.

“Yeah,” Kuroo said, grinning, “I really do want to play MGS.”

“I do not want to play MGS,” Kuroo stressed again, “I want to go to the community college open volleyball tournament, or go to the art museum, or to a movie, or to that Fukurodani party Bokuto invited us to. We could talk to girls.”

Kenma handed him a controller and Kuroo mentally admitted defeat. He was never going to out-stubborn Kenma.

“Developing your Metal Gear skills is going to help get you a girlfriend. There’s nothing hotter than a man who can play Metal Gear. I’m doing you a favor.”

“You’re going to be a virgin for the rest of your life, you know that?” Kuroo asked.

He smiled when Kenma gently elbowed him.

He glanced over at Kenma, who was eyeing the rain that had just begun and then suddenly, something occurred to Kuroo: This was a chance to fix one of his many mistakes. Not as a cat in a video game, but in real life.

And this way, he could fix it without even apologizing. Actions, not words, his way and Kenma’s way rolled all into one. It was exactly how it should be.

“Do you want to go for a walk?” Kuroo asked, bringing his eyes to Kenma’s.

He’d spent so much time staring into Kenma’s eyes over the years, but it was hard to hold the eye contact. Something about it was far too intimidating. It was too intimate, as if he would fall headfirst back into love if he let Kenma’s golden eyes connect to his even for a second.

“Ah, it’s fine,” Kenma said, something unreadable in his expression, “I’m not gonna have you sit here while I wander around the neighborhood. That wouldn’t be very ’good host’ of me. My mom would kill me.”

Kuroo stood there awkwardly. It had only been three or four times that he’d hung out with the neighbor kid, but he didn’t think the kid would literally hide from him. Now where was he supposed to go when he was home alone? 

“Kozume Kenma, if you do not get your ass down here and greet your guest, we are going to have a problem!”

Kuroo set his jaw. Walking in the cold rain sounded absolutely abysmal, but he was going to do it anyway. He would do it, he would face the rain, something he should have done a long time ago. He’d had dozens and dozens of opportunities but never bothered to take one.

“I meant that I’d come with you,” Kuroo clarified, the sentiment not to be taken back.

Kenma’s lips twitched, and for a second, Kuroo was afraid that he’d made a mistake, inviting himself on Kenma’s walks so soon after they’d reconnected. He knew they were special to Kenma and maybe it wasn’t his place to join. Maybe he shouldn’t have said anything at all. Maybe he should have just shut up about the rain in the first place.

“Yeah, let’s do it,” Kenma said, smiling, “It’s so fun.”

Relief settled in Kuroo’s chest before the reminder that he was about to be frozen and soaked hit him again.
He really didn’t want to do this, but it wasn’t even a choice for him. His priorities were clear on what he needed to do, so he would go. He would soak himself to the bone. He would probably freeze. He would probably destroy his hair. It would be worth it.

It would be so worth it.

Despite Kuroo’s anxiety about going on the walk, Kenma clearly had been right all of these years. Once Kuroo got past the jarring sensation of being wet to his core, something about it lifted his worries. He felt free, like he could do anything. The problems he was having all seemed to fade away. None of this weirdness, none of this awkwardness, and none of this pain was going to stop him from forming a relationship with Kenma. He could hardly tear the grin off his face. He shivered as he walked, each step taking him into the thousands of versions of himself. He pondered through life as the Kuroos that were and the Kuroos yet to be. He kept catching himself walking faster and faster, excitement driving his legs to a quicker and quicker speed. He wanted to walk forever in the rain, his flannel somewhat shielding his head.

Each time he looked over at Kenma, he smiled even more. Unlike Kuroo, Kenma wasn’t even hiding from the rain, his hood entirely down and his too long sweatpants dragging on the wet ground. He looked peaceful. He looked free. He looked like someone Kuroo wanted to hold, to love, to kiss, to- to nothing. He’d messed that up once already and besides, he didn’t even know if he romance. His stupid feelings were still an ambiguous mess, but the more steps he took into the walk, the less he cared about the fact that he didn’t know how he felt about Kozume Kenma. He wasn’t sure what he wanted, and he didn’t care. At that moment, being next to Kenma was all he could ever ask for. It wasn't just good enough. It was good.

The cold rain was magical, forcing any and all bad thoughts out of his brain. Emotion pulsed through him in such a raw all-consuming way and he felt like he was on top of the world.

Kuroo wondered how exactly this entire sensation worked on a neurological level, but more than that, he wondered how Kenma figured it out. It seemed counterintuitive. He imagined a miserable Kenma forcing himself to walk in the rain because he thought he deserved to be soaked, cold, and even more miserable, but ending up feeling refreshed, like everything would be okay again.

Kenma laughed as he punched in a code to unlock his front door. Kuroo couldn’t help but smile as well. It had been so long since he had gotten to really talk volleyball with Kenma. It brought him way back, all the way back, before they were lovers, before they were even really friends and the topic made it easy to steer clear of their relationship. Maybe they really could start all over again.

“Why would I want to watch that?” Kenma asked, not bothering to hide his disgust, “I hate sports.”

“Come on, please?”

Kuroo always played video games with him. The least Kenma could do was watch a volleyball match. They didn’t even have to play volleyball.

“Ugh. Fine.”

“I know,” Kenma said, opening the door for Kuroo, “I think getting them to play threes as a promotion would be awesome.”

“Tell me about it,” Kuroo responded, “Imagine it as a charity game. Imagine the crazy combinations. Maybe we could get whoever’s interested and have a fan vote for teams.”

Kenma followed Kuroo into the house, taking off his wet shoes at the door.

“I mean, come on, can you imagine playing against a Sakusa-Kiryuu-Oikawa team?” Kenma asked, “Holy mother of god, the nasty precision and cleverness of that trio.”

Kuroo nodded, already wanting to make it a reality. Kenma had the most incredible mind and would probably put together the best combos possible. Kuroo wanted to ask for more, but the fact that he was standing in Kenma’s foyer, soaking wet, was becoming rather distracting.

“What should I do?” Kuroo asked awkwardly, scratching the back of his neck.

He was sopping wet and had no dry clothes to put on. It wasn’t like he’d originally planned on taking a brisk saunter through the rain so he packed an extra outfit.

“Why don’t you go shower?” Kenma asked, “I’ll make tea. You like Egyptian licorice still?”

Kuroo tried not to reveal how hard that sentence hit him.

“Yeah, that’d be great. Thank you.”

“First door on the right,” Kenma said, nodding up the stairs.

”Egyptian licorice?” Kenma asked, tossing the empty paper packet in the garbage, “Sounds like a horrible tea.”

“I know,” Kuroo said, “But it’s so fucking good. Like it’s incredible. Come try it. I’ll start making you a mug.”

Kenma’s nostrils flared.

“You’re really sure I’ll like this weird ass tea, huh?” he said.

“It’s irresistible.”

Kuroo handed the mug to Kenma as he walked around him into the kitchen, boiling more water.

“Holy shit,” Kenma said.

Kuroo turned around and beamed at him.

“It’s incredible, right?”

“God no,” Kenma said, scrunching his nose, “This is horrible. How can you drink this?”

As Kuroo walked up the stairs, feeling bad about trailing water all over the carpet, he was haunted by the tea. He was still thinking about it by the time he had turned on the water and stripped out of his clothes. Why did Kenma have it in his house? Kuroo knew for a fact Kenma left all food items when he moved out. Kuroo squeezed his eyes shut, trying not to imagine a heartbroken Kenma buying it in the hope that Kuroo would return after their breakup, begging to take him back. Maybe Kenma thought they’d have tea and talk it out. Kuroo’s heart ached for that hypothetical Kenma.

The shower water was still too cold to enjoy, but he figured that was mostly irrelevant considering the fact he was soaked to the bone with cold water already, so he stepped inside. For some reason, it was different, and much much worse. He shivered, turning the heat up as if that’d make it warm up faster.

He told himself that Kenma went and bought the tea right before they were supposed to be hanging out. It hadn’t been burning a hole in his cabinet for more than a year. Kenma had just purchased it for him when they reunited. It hadn’t been sitting there, reminding Kenma of Kuroo every time he saw it. He had clearly just purchased it in the last forty-eight hours. It was a new purchase. It had to be.

Kuroo took in a sharp breath.

Even though he was clearly in a guest bathroom, it was still a rather pleasant shower. Similar to the walk, the shower didn’t help him actually sort out any of his feelings towards Kenma, but unlike the walk, the shower didn’t put him at peace with the fact that he was unable to make sense of those snarled, confusing emotions.

It did, however, warm him up, and that had to count for something.

It wasn’t until he shut the water off that he remembered he really didn’t want to put cold, wet clothes back on. The shower had warmed him up perfectly. Having to return to his rain soaked clothing seemed cruel. Perhaps he could sneak out of Kenma’s house in the nude. That seemed somehow preferable.

He sighed as he got out of the shower, grabbing a towel. He wondered how long he could ostensibly be not just stalling in the bathroom before he had to put his clothes back on. Maybe he could turn the water back on to buy him more time. He considered it for a moment but then he noticed something on the counter that he was pretty sure wasn’t there when he first walked into the bathroom.

He toweled off his hair as he walked over to the medium sized plastic bin. Inside of it was a small number of his things that Kenma had apparently accidentally- or possibly very intentionally, but Kuroo didn’t want to think about that- ended up with after they split. Thankfully, there was a pair of sweatpants and an old sweatshirt of his. He wouldn’t have to put on the soaked clothing. It seemed like possibly the greatest gift he’d ever received and it was just his own old clothes.

He wanted to keep looking through the box, but something stopped him. He felt like it was going to cause far too much damage to his mental state to do so. He really didn’t want to think about how Kenma interacted with these reminders of Kuroo. Did he ever wear the sweatshirt, sobbing as he thought about Kuroo? That was not going to be a beneficial thought experiment by any means. He tried to shake it out of his head.

Once he was properly dried off and dressed, he made his way back downstairs to see that Kenma had probably also showered. His long hair was still wet, but neatly combed so it hung flat, tucked behind his ears on both sides.

Kenma nodded at the mug on the counter.

“Thank you,” Kuroo said, making his way over to grab it.

As soon as he picked it up, he could place the smell. It was a tea like no other, his absolute favorite. The tea that was hopefully very recently purchased.

“Mhm,” Kenma said, his eyelids drooping.

He looked rather content. Tired, but content.

Kuroo didn’t mean to say what he said next, but it was on his mind and the rain seemed to have broken his barriers. The shower helped piece his mind back together, but he was pretty sure that the walk managed to fundamentally alter his brain chemistry.

“Our meetup at the restaurant was heinously awkward,” Kuroo said, sitting at the table across from Kenma, “The absolute worst, but this felt good, more like us. You know?”

Kenma snorted.

“I’m glad I wasn’t the only one who was feeling like it was somehow both the worst blind date and a rough client meeting at the same time.”

Kuroo laughed, but didn’t say anything, just glad Kenma felt the same way. He was also starting to feel tired. Perhaps the walk wore him down too- the crash after an adrenaline rush.

“But you’re right,” Kenma said quietly, sipping his tea, “This was really nice. Let’s do it again. Soon.”

Chapter Text

Kuroo yawned as he opened the door, board game box in hand.

In search of the drinking game he had bought on instinct, he noticed the fantasy board game on the shelf in the closet next to it. Kenma had taught him how to play it once and then they fell in love with it. They’d spent hours upon hours playing it until late at night when they were either too tired or too drunk to continue.

He grabbed the box and threw it under his bed, hoping to leave that reminder of Kenma behind without destroying it entirely.

“How- how do you live here?” Kenma asked, nervously glancing around.

Seeing Kenma again felt like almost nothing, which was good, an indication that things were quickly returning to ‘normal.’ Seeing each other wasn’t a calendar-burning, nerve-wracking event. It was just a regular activity.

“I got a raise at work right before we split,” Kuroo said, the last word getting caught in his throat, “So rent is manageable.”

He stared down at the document detailing his raise. It was going to help them quite a bit. They’d have to be painfully frugal much less often. They could have some space to breathe. They could put it towards a down payment.

Kuroo, however, didn’t allow that to happen.

He set the new payment plan up so the old amount of his paycheck went into their shared account and the rest went into his own private account. He definitely could use beer money. What Kenma didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. Plus, it was Kuroo’s money in the first place. Why did he have to work for the both of them?

“Not what I meant,” Kenma said, drawing his hands into his chest, “I mean the ghosts. How do you live here with all of the ghosts everywhere.”

It took a second to figure out what Kenma meant. He was the last person Kuroo could imagine believing in ghosts, but then it clicked.

“Oh,” Kuroo said, “Yeah, it was a learning curve. I regularly still run into them.”

Constantly, he was constantly being barraged by painful old memories.

“Gotcha,” Kenma said, looking like he was taking a moment to collect himself, “Do you still remember how to play?”

“Of course I do,” Kuroo said with a smile, taking his place at the table.

A painless ghost came to visit.

Kenma giggled, his beautiful, beautiful face alight with joy.

Kuroo sighed contentedly, rolling the dice. Kenma put his hand on Kuroo’s and they moved the game piece together, silently counting out thirteen spaces as they went.

“Good,” Kenma said, humorously cracking his knuckles, “Because I’m craving a win.”

Kuroo’s eyes were drawn to Kenma’s hands, watching as he shook the dice before elegantly rolling them across the table. They were such beautiful hands, small, talented soft hands. He couldn’t decide whether he wanted to hold them or kiss them.

Kuroo got on his knees in front of Kenma and grabbed his hand, grinning when Kenma flushed deeply.

“A kiss for my boy,” Kuroo said, placing a kiss on the back of his hand.

Kenma shielded his eyes with his free hand while Kuroo placed kisses on each finger of the other.

Kenma looked over at his roll and tried to reach to grab the dice, but his arms were too short. Kuroo found it really annoying that Kenma always tossed them too far- he could have learned from the first two hundred times he did it- but then Kuroo stopped to think.

Why did he even care?

It was dice. On a table. Kuroo had long arms. It wasn’t the end of the world. It was a few seconds of movement to grab them. It wasn’t as serious as his emotions said it was. He could simply ignore them.

“A six and a three,” Kuroo said, grabbing the dice to return them to their owner.

“Hmm,” Kenma said, “Much to consider.”

Kuroo glanced at Kenma again, like he had been the entire game, soaking in everything about him. His eyes traced over Kenma’s jawline, and then found themselves looking up at his perfect eyelashes.

How did they always look that good?

Kenma glanced up at him and Kuroo averted his gaze.

“This turn really has you stumped, doesn’t it?” Kuroo asked.

He waited for Kenma to look back down at the board before glancing at him once more. Kenma’s long hair hung just below his shoulders, only the very end having any bleach at all. It was just slightly wavy and looked incredibly soft. Kuroo felt the urge to play with it, to run his hands through it and smooth it down.

“Alrighty, it’s all yours,” Kenma said, picking up two cards.

Kuroo knew he shouldn't think like that, but he also knew that Kenma wasn’t inside of his head. He could indulge in the objective beauty of Kenma without attaching himself to it. He could look, but not touch, and certainly not fall in love.

And that would be enough. It would be more than enough.

Kuroo had originally gone over to Kenma’s place so they could test out his new air fryer, but it didn’t take them long to realize there wasn’t much to test. It was essentially a crispy microwave and something about the smell was off putting to the both of them. Somehow it smelled like a mix of oil and electricity. Maybe Kenma bought a broken one.

It didn’t really matter anyway. They ended up just sitting together in Kenma’s front room. Kuroo was working on a project for work and Kenma appeared to be playing a video game on his laptop. Kuroo couldn’t quite tell if it was work or play.

Neither of them had spoken for at least an hour, but that was a good thing. The silence was pleasant, but also very important. They were slowly returning to a place in their relationship where they didn’t feel the need to fill the empty space with forced words. They were comfortable enough with each other to simply exist in the same space. Not everything had to be planned down to the second.

Kuroo glanced at his phone to see a text from his coworker, asking if he wanted to go clubbing with the social media team.

He shot back a quick ‘no thank you,’ but he did do a quick search for clubs in Kenma’s area. They’d be different than the ones by him and he wanted to see if any of them struck his fancy.

Ironically, the one that caught his eye ended up being closer to Kuroo’s place than Kenma’s. It had fairly recently opened and it was themed like a big, dark, neon fishbowl. While it wasn’t outright a gay club, Kuroo could tell that it’s main clientele would more than likely be queer.

“I’m sending you a link,” Kuroo said, doing just that, “Doesn’t it look cool?”

Kuroo watched as Kenma squinted at his phone.

“Oh,” he said with a laugh, “I’ve been there. One of their drinks has nerds in it because it looks like aquarium gravel. It was a fun atmosphere for sure. Super unique place if you wanna go sometime.”

“I didn’t mean to say we had to go,” Kuroo clarified, “I know clubbing isn’t really your thing. I honestly just thought it looked like something you would have made in a video game.”

Kenma tugged on his sleeve, more insistently that time.

“What’s up?” Kuroo asked, leaning down to kiss his forehead.

“We have to go,” Kenma said, bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

Kenma liked bars so Kuroo figured he’d like clubbing. Apparently that wasn’t the case.

“Okay, let me finish my-“

“Now. I’m sorry, but I’m leaving right now. Come. Don’t come. I don’t care.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes, chugging the rest of his drink.

“No worries,” Kenma said, “I actually hate golfing more than I hate nightlife, so that’s how I usually work with some of my less uptight business partners.”

Kuroo tried to imagine Kenma attempting to run his business in a gay club. He also couldn’t imagine Kenma in a straight club. Neither of those options seemed to fit with what he knew about Kenma and Kenma’s field, but he wasn’t going to question it.

“Doing business in a club is pretty awesome,” Kuroo said, thinking about a certain Osaka volleyball team he was working with, “I might have to try that method rather than the usual.”

“Let’s go this weekend if you’re free. I can probably get us VIP access.”

Kuroo felt like it was a trap but bit down that instinct. Kenma was offering. He needed to trust Kenma.

Kuroo tossed his ice cream bowl in the sink and paused for a moment, considering the time they’d been spending together.

It had been going really well.

They hung out constantly and talked about everything: work, volleyball, movies, video games. Well, almost everything. There was no discussion of the mountain of pointed memories between them and no discussion of therapy which necessarily implied the former.

Maybe it was time to change that. Kuroo’s therapist even agreed. 

“I just wanna tell him,” Kuroo said, leaning back in the overstuffed chair, “I feel like I’m ready. We’re ready. You know?”

”A conversation takes two, but needs one person to start it. Maybe that could be you?” his therapist said, looking into Kuroo’s soul.

They’d rebuilt a foundation, and the next step was doing the heavy work. Kuroo was ready. Ready to take the blame for his wrongs. Ready to speak calmly. Ready to speak honestly. Ready to be the person he wanted to be.

“Kenma,” he said, plastering a fake nonchalant expression on his face as he made his way back to the couch, “I wanted to talk about something.”

“Oh?” Kenma said, pausing the game he’d casted to the screen.

Kuroo swallowed, gathering his courage.

“I take responsibility for the person I was and the things I did when we-“

“I didn’t hear that,” Kenma said, unpausing his game.

Kenma’s voice was cool and neutral. The words sent a chill through Kuroo.

“I mean, don’t you think it’s time that we-“ Kuroo started.

“No, I do not.”

He didn’t expect it to go so sideways so instantaneously.

Kuroo clenched his teeth. This facade they’d been acting out was impossible. He had a mountain of things to say that just kept building in his head. He knew they would both feel better afterwards. Why couldn’t Kenma help them both?

“Ken, I really just-“

“We made a deal,” Kenma said, calmly, “We can abide by those terms or we can call it here.”

Something inside of Kuroo snapped, allowing anger to rush free and course through his body. Call it? They’d been doing so well! They’d built up trust falling back into their own routines, but they couldn’t even have a honest discussion about it?

Kenma was seriously ready to throw in the towel that easily. It was nothing short of unbelievable. The mere thought made him angry. Did their progress mean that little to Kenma? Did he mean that little to Kenma?

“The deal needs to be revisited because this? This isn’t fair and this isn’t right,” Kuroo said. His tone had an edge but he carefully controlled the words and volume, “And I think it’s insane that it’s that easy for you to just toss this away.”

His entire body pulsed with anger and Kenma set his controller down.

“You are allowed to think your thoughts. The deal is for both of us. If you don’t want to abide by it anymore, then I’m not going to force to you spend time with me against your will. If you want to talk about it, go ahead, but know that my door code and my number will both become unknown to you. It’s up to you, really.”

How could it be up to Kuroo? Kuroo had no power. Nothing was up to him. It wasn’t an even playing field if Kenma set every rule and punished violations. It was disrespectful and unacceptable.

Kuroo breathed in, ready to make everything within him burst forth and become known, but the tiniest sliver of restraint held his breath firmly inside his lungs.

He mentally counted to five before hissing his breath out through his teeth.

It wasn’t worth it.

He was so angry at Kenma for being willing to throw it all away, but that anger would be hypocritical if Kuroo decided to yell, effectively throwing it all away on his own. He knew, clear as day, that the second he raised his voice it would be over, so he took a moment to steady himself.

He was angry. He was rough. He was broken. He was not a hypocrite.

“I’m going to leave now,” Kuroo said, the words mechanical.

He grabbed his bag from where it sat on the floor next to the end table.

“You don’t have to go,” Kenma said slowly, “We just can’t do this right now.”

It was tempting to stay, but Kuroo knew better. He was putting every fiber of willpower into his calmness. He needed to leave before he inevitably exploded. It was the right thing to do.

“I do have to go,” Kuroo said firmly, “So I’m going to go.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and pressed his twitching hands hard against his hips as he started to walk away.

It was a first. Kenma was the one who had walked away from him. 

“Will I see you tomorrow?” Kenma asked, glancing over at him, but not getting up.

Kuroo continued his way out, arms pressed hard into his sides.

“I’m not sure,” he said, the words sounding distant from his mouth.

“Well,” Kenma began, but Kuroo didn’t hear the rest of it as he beelined for the door.

He walked out into the cool night air, his muscles clenched and his mind whirring.

He wasn’t sure why he was pacing like a trapped animal. He was alone in his apartment. Nobody would be there. He didn’t need to be wound up about this. As a matter of fact, he could even take some time to think about what he wanted to do. He could wait and call his therapist. It didn’t have to be done right then, but for some reason it didn’t feel that way. It was as if leaving Kenma alone with doubts for any period of time would cause it all to be over again.

He didn’t think he was in the wrong, but deep down he knew this was an impasse. He found it frustrating that Kenma refused to let him apologize about the things he actually needed to apologize about and forced him to apologize about the thing he didn’t actually regret. How long would he be in this limbo period? He wasn’t sure if he could ignore the past forever. He was the one who wanted Kenma to set the rules, but it having no say in them started to wear heavily on him.

It was Kenma’s way or the highway, and Kuroo knew just how damn lonely the highway was.

He physically swallowed, hoping his pride would go down with his spit. He didn’t want to make the call, but his desire to smooth things over with Kenma overrode his displeasure.

He found his way to Just Kenma’s contact and hit call. He waited anxiously for two rings before Kenma picked up.

“Hi,” Kenma said, his tone as if nothing had happened between them.

“Can we talk?” Kuroo asked, bouncing up on his toes.

He wanted to add that he didn’t mean talk as in discuss the forbidden topic, just their previous conversation, but his lips didn’t participate in providing that information.

“I picked up the call, didn’t I?”

The comment semantically indicated snark, but Kenma’s tone seemed more reassuring than sardonic. Kuroo took a careful breath.

“Okay, okay,” he started.

Why didn’t he come up with a plan about what to say before he called? A steady stream of plans started invading his headspace, but that wasn’t going to help. He needed only one. He needed exactly one good plan.

“Okay,” Kenma said, “Whenever you’re ready.”

There were so many thoughts swirling through Kuroo’s mind that he could no longer focus on them. There was so much stimuli, but he couldn’t process it all at once. He couldn’t evaluate. He couldn’t discern. He couldn’t make a decision.

He took a breath, focusing on his emotions rather than his thoughts. They mattered too, didn’t they?

“I want to- I will respect this boundary,” Kuroo said, finally, “But I do, however, need you to respect how hard this is for me. The words unsaid, they weigh heavy on me, you know? I’m just-“

“Well, you have to-“

The words made Kuroo falter. What was he even saying? He didn’t want to lose track of his already tenuous point.

“Can you let me finish?” Kuroo huffed in desperation, before realizing how harsh it sounded, “Fuck. Sorry. I didn’t mean to say it like that. I just don’t want to-“

“No, don’t be sorry. I interrupted you.”

Was that a trap? It felt like a trap.

He had to pull himself together.

“Okay, well, I just, as we get closer and closer again having to sit here and act- pretend that all of what I did to you didn’t exist, it hurts,” Kuroo said.

It wasn’t perfect but it was a start.

“If it hurts you, what do you think it feels like to me?” Kenma asked.

Kuroo processed the words physically and took them like a spray of acid. He knew what it felt like to Kenma, flinching on impact. It was all his fault. The crack in Kenma’s tone only made it worse.

“Better. Not better. But we can do this better. We can make this better,” Kuroo said, fumbling for a string of cohesive words.

“I know you,” Kenma croaked, “And I can tell that to a certain extent you’ve grown, but sometimes when I see you, I talk to you, I see the callous man whose touch made me feel alone. I hear words from a mouth that spoke so much cruelty into my ear.”

Every single piece of background noise faded into silence.

“Kenma, that man-“

At first, Kuroo was relieved when Kenma cut him off. He had no idea how he was going to finish that sentence. That man didn’t exist? Did that man exist?

“Don’t,” Kenma said, “I was that man too, you know? I maybe wasn’t the main culprit but there were times where the only thing I was trying to do was hurt you. I’m not innocent in this. We’re the same, but it’s also different.”

Kuroo couldn’t believe he was going to argue something that wouldn’t get him to his end goal of having the conversation, but the truth needed to be told. If he couldn’t tell all of the truth, this was a part of it that he could tell.

“It’s not a close score,” Kuroo said, “I was much worse than you. I probably caused you to be like that in the first place.”

“Yes, I know, but don’t you remember the things I did to you? I remember them. How could I not? They keep me up at night,” Kenma said, his words wobbly, “I suffer through nightmares of my own actions.”

The admission threw Kuroo off. Kenma was that concerned by his own mistakes? Kenma had never that bad. Had he?

Kuroo smiled as he unlocked the door. Deciding to go to the food truck at the last minute had been a great decision. It was good food and he was ready to chill out on his couch for the rest of his night.

“Hey, sweets,” Kuroo said, walking into their apartment, “How’s your cut scene?”

“How was the food truck?” Kenma asked, his tone bitter.

It took Kuroo a minute to realize why the set of words were unusual.

“How did you know I was there?” Kuroo asked, genuinely curious.

He’d told Kenma not to wait up for him but not where he was going.

“Grabbed your tablet,” Kenma said, casually, “Couldn’t pull up your location on my phone.”

Why didn’t Kenma just ask where he was?

“I didn’t realize you cared where I was,” Kuroo said, “I said I would probably be home late.”

“Well, I do care, thank you very much, so I found my answer,” Kenma said.

Why did Kuroo feel like he walked into an ambush? He hadn’t done anything wrong.

“And why do you seem so bitter then, if you have your answer?” Kuroo asked, slowly.

“Because I shouldn’t have to read your damn texts to know where you’re going to be or who you’re with. I mean what if something happ-“

“You read my texts? What the hell?”

Kuroo had nothing to hide, but he felt naked, exposed, in danger. He felt sick.

“I mean-“

“How could you do that without telling me?” Kuroo asked, ”Is this the first time?”

“Well, actually I have been-“

Kuroo was going to throw up.

“You know-“ Kuroo started.

“No. We have to stop talking about this,” Kenma said, “It’s gone too far. I just- we can’t open this all up.”

“Don’t you think this could help us both?” Kuroo pleaded, desperation in his tone, “Your actions and mine?”

He felt his pulse in his fingertips. He wanted this more than anything.

“I don’t know,” Kenma said, his low voice mournful, “I don’t know if I’m ready.”

“Please, please,” Kuroo said, “I want to make this better and we can’t do that if we keep pretending it doesn’t exist.”

Kenma sighed.

“I really just need you to give me more time on this. Okay?”

How much time? How long would he have to wait to start picking away at that huge wall of guilt?

The timeline didn’t matter. Kuroo would continue to accept the consequences of his many actions.

“Okay,” Kuroo said, carefully watching his breathing, “Will I see you tomorrow?”

“Mhm.”

Kuroo nodded to himself. Crisis avoided- for the time being at least.

“Alright, sounds good,” Kuroo said, “See you then.”

“Bye,” Kenma said, “Wait-“

Kenma was going to take it back. He wasn’t going to go to the club with Kuroo. Kenma didn’t think this spat was over. Kuroo agreeing to his terms didn’t matter. Kenma was going to leave him. Again.

“What?” Kuroo asked, quietly.

“You work close with Sakusa, right?” Kenma asked, “Something is wrong with his knee, yeah?”

Kuroo’s concern faded into confusion.

“No, not that I know of,” he responded, “Why do you ask?”

“Listen,” Kenma said, and Kuroo could imagine him gesturing like he always did when he said that, “I was watching the last three games and I think his run up seems abnormal especially on his-“

“Left side,” they said together.

“Okay, okay. Let me get to my computer,” Kuroo said, making his way to his bedroom, “I’ve been working with MSBY all week getting practice footage for promo shots. Let’s see if we can find it.”

“Now this is good,” Kenma said, excitement tinging his voice, “I feel like we’re about to solve a mystery.”

“Detective Kuroo at your service.”

And just like that, it was fine again. The stress melted from Kuroo’s shoulders as he sat down at his desk. He could do this. They could do this. Everything would be just fine. He opted to ignore the complete lack of sustainability of living a life where they ignored the mountain between them.

Kuroo knew Kenma didn’t want to be back at Kuroo’s apartment for fear of finding more ghosts, and figured he only agreed that it made the most sense to meet there because it was closer to the club.

Kuroo was giving his absolute best pep talk to himself as he got ready, telling himself that alcohol and tight clothing was no reason to fall in love with Kenma. After they spent hours and hours on the phone, he started to notice the way his heart fluttered, even so soon after their friction.

They could be two bros. Two drunk bros. In scant clothing. It was possible to not fall in love, he supposed, but didn’t find it terribly likely. He would have to figure it out though, there would be no taking it back. He needed to keep his head on straight, his mouth zipped, and his dick on lockdown.

He glanced over at his phone to see multiple texts from Kenma. He hadn’t been paying attention to his phone, because he figured that Kenma was just letting him know that he was on his way, but there were two other things after that text: ‘here i gotta piss so bad pls let me in’ and ‘bruh I’m pissing on the doorstep in sixty seconds.’

Kuroo walked significantly quicker than he normally did out of his apartment to let Kenma into the building lobby. He was afraid Kenma might actually piss on the doorstep and get arrested for public indecency. He really didn’t put anything past this new Kenma. He was apparently capable of anything.

“Thank god,” Kenma said, immediately brushing past Kuroo.

“Door’s unlocked,” Kuroo said, “I’m going to grab the mail.”

Kenma nodded, though he hadn’t slowed down in the least.

It took Kuroo a second to actually unlock his small mailbox, considering how badly his hands were shaking, but he chose to instead attribute the clumsiness to how shaded the hallway was. He simply couldn’t see the lock all that well.

”Stop bumping into me,” Kenma giggled.

Kuroo wasn’t doing it on purpose. The unsafely lit hallway and the liquor coursing through his veins meant he was having trouble finding where Kenma was next to him.

“No,” he said, intentionally bumping into Kenma, who gave him a smack on the ass for the disobedience. He wiggled his ass just a little and got another smack.

By the time he successfully grabbed his singular piece of mail and returned to his apartment, Kenma had finished peeing.

It took everything within Kuroo to stop his jaw from dropping.

As far as clubbing outfits for gay men in their twenties went, Kenma’s was rather plain, a black mesh long sleeve shirt and looser leather pants, but it wasn’t that, nor was it the makeup he was wearing, that caught Kuroo’s attention.

He wasn’t sure how he hadn’t noticed it earlier, but Kenma had muscles. They weren’t hard washboard abs or biceps with veins popping out, but he indisputably had soft muscles, head to toe. That was new.

It was also unbelievably attractive, exactly Kuroo’s type.

How was Kuroo supposed to take it slow when Kenma looked like that?

They were taking a breather, talking in an empty corner of the room. Kuroo could tell that Kenma was reaching overstimulation and needed to be removed from the dance floor, so it was his idea.

“Oh puhlease,” Kuroo laughed, taking a sip of his fourth margarita of the night, “I refuse to believe you do weight trainin’ withoutta gun to ya head.”

“I have a personal trainer,” Kenma explained, “I actually pay him to make me work out.”

“I’m simply not buyin’ it,” Kuroo said, glancing over to the man who started to nudge into their conversation.

“Are you two together?” the man asked, raising a carefully shaped eyebrow.

“He’s not my type,” Kenma said.

Kuroo’s immediate reaction was to be hurt, but then he took it for the joke it was and smiled. He also told himself that it didn’t matter that the question itself made him nauseous.

“Glad to hear it.”

“Which one of us are you interested in?” Kenma asked, a mischievous glint in his eye.

Kuroo vaguely wondered if Kenma was about to take this man home while they were out together. There was technically nothing stopping him from doing so, but the mere thought made jealousy tear through his chest. Jealously that didn’t belong there. He had no claim to Kenma. No right to be jealous.

“Both?”

“We’re not interested,” Kuroo said, crossing his arms.

He could pass it off as wanting to keep hanging out rather than jealousy. He clenched his jaw and leaned forward, staring the stranger down.

“Okay, damn,” the man said, throwing his hands up, “Forget I asked.”

Kenma shot Kuroo a sideways glance but didn’t say anything.

“Awesome! Thank you,” Kuroo said as the bartender set the two drinks down in front of him.

“Cheers,” Kenma said, grabbing his drink and clinking it against Kuroo’s.

Kuroo took a sip of the margarita he was holding to discover it wasn’t actually his.

”I think I’m ready to try drinking,” Kenma said, walking into Kuroo’s dorm room.

“Hell yeah,” Kuroo said, “I can’t get you into a bar, but I can get some stuff for us. What do you want to try?”

Kenma gave him an adorable smile as he pulled margarita mix and a few limes from his backpack. Kuroo later found out that Kenma had been planning their night for weeks in advance.

“Perfect,” Kuroo said, “I already have tequila. Wanna grab ice from down the hall?”

Kenma nodded, walking out of the room and Kuroo got to work, cleaning out his glasses.

“This’s yours. Sorry,” Kuroo said, swapping their drinks.

”I like this, but how do you drink this with all of the salt? It’s so sour already and then the salt on top of that is brutal,” Kenma said, his nose scrunching.

He wasn’t completely drunk, but he was absolutely a bit buzzed. Buzzed Kenma was adorable.

“I’ll fix that for you,” Kuroo said, grabbing it from him. He licked the salt off of the entire glass with a smile and handed it back to Kenma.

He was significantly more intoxicated than Kenma.

“Ew. I don’t want it now that it has your spit on it.”

Kuroo laughed.

“More for me, then,” he said, setting the glass by the one he was already drinking out of, “I’ll make you another one.”

He got up and grabbed a glass, planning on just skipping the rimming step, but then he had a better idea.

“How about we try sugar instead?”

While he was tipped off by the rim with sugar instead of salt, that wasn’t the difference he was most intrigued about.

He tasted his own drink to confirm his hypothesis. Sure enough, Kenma’s margarita was virgin. It wasn’t even a half shot or a poorly made margarita. There was nothing in it. He of all people would be able to tell. Had Kenma just switched over or had he never started drinking in the first place?

“No problem,” Kenma said, his face artificially without expression.

Kuroo glanced at him. He knew what drunk Kenma looked like, and even in his own inebriated state, now that he was looking for it, could tell that Kenma wasn’t drunk, not even in the slightest bit. There was no tinge of pink on his cheeks, no giggles, no wobbles, no attempt to put his hair back, no raised eyebrows or bluntly whispered comments.

Kenma was stone cold sober.

Kuroo was going to let it drop. It was Kenma’s business after all, but he wanted to know and the tequila taking over his brain was stunting his inhibitions.

“Why aren’tcha drinking?”

He watched Kenma control his facial expression once more.

“Just wasn’t feeling it,” he said, shrugging before taking another sip.

He shouldn’t push Kenma on it. It was too soon after their small fight.

“That’s not true,” Kuroo said.

He always knew when Kenma was lying. Kenma just averted his gaze, his fingers tapping against the stem of his glass.

“I don’t really drink much at all anymore,” Kenma said, setting his jaw as he reestablished eye contact. His body language was enough to indicate to Kuroo to let the topic drop.

Kuroo wasn’t sure what to say when Kenma followed him off of the train. Did he forget that they didn’t live together at the apartment anymore? Kenma hadn’t been drinking. He wasn’t drunk. Was he planning on staying the night? Kuroo didn’t mind. As a matter of fact, he had to stop himself from imagining falling asleep in Kenma’s arms. The alcohol was leaning him away from being just friends, tripping him away even.

“This isn’t ya stop,” Kuroo finally said, cocking his head to the side.

He stopped walking once they stepped far enough from the train that they were out of the crowd.

“I’m walking you home,” Kenma said, “Come on.”

Kuroo followed him, narrowing his eyes.

“I’m way, way, way bigger than you,” Kuroo pointed out, “If someone gotta be worried about walking alone, it’s you.”

“You’re drunk,” Kenma said, a smile on his face, “I’m just making sure you get inside okay.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” Kuroo asked, almost offended, “I’m not that drunk.”

He even had his keys for once.

”Kenma,” Kuroo whined into the phone, “I didn’t bring my key with. Where are you?”

“I told you,” Kenma said, “I’m presenting a demo downtown. I won’t be home for a few hours.”

“How am I supposed to get inside?” Kuroo asked, slurring the words ever so slightly.

“Ask one of your work friends to let you spend the night,” Kenma said, his voice uncharacteristically cold, “Bye.”

Kenma opted to just shrug, letting the conversation drop. The rest of the walk back was pleasant, but uninteresting, until the goodbye.

“Have a good night,” Kenma said, stepping out into the hall.

“You too,” Kuroo said, “Can you text me when you get home?”

Kenma going home alone that late at night worried him.

“For sure,” Kenma said, lingering at the door.

There was a moment of silence and Kuroo could tell Kenma had something on his mind. He would have just left otherwise.

“What’s up?” Kuroo asked softly, gently placing a hand on Kenma’s elbow.

“You’re not that drunk,” Kenma said. He turned and started walking away before he finished his statement, “You could have walked alone. I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

Chapter Text

Kuroo finally shut his mouth. It was dry after his monologue of the fight, which must have gone on for ten minutes straight. The days in between when it happened and therapy smoothed it over, but having to tell it again brought those feelings back up to the surface. He realized that he’d recounted it in circles and that he was just going to keep summarizing it to no avail if he kept talking. Sometimes he wished his therapist would stop him.

“Say that again,” the therapist prompted, “That last part. One more time, out loud and this time listen to yourself.”

Kuroo crossed his arms. He said it once, much more than once, actually. Many times. The other man clearly heard him. What was the point?

The two men stared at each other for a moment before the therapist spoke again.

“Please? Just the very last thing you said?”

Kuroo nodded heavily, letting a little sigh out as he thought.

“I lost it. It ended up fine in the end but I totally lost it. I wasn’t even thinking. I lost all control,” Kuroo said, “It’s embarrassing. I told myself I was ready. That I was gonna have this hard talk. That I was gonnna take responsibility for me. That I was better. But I’m not.”

He thought about it as he said it, following his therapist’s orders, but nothing came to him besides shame.

“I think we ought to reframe that. Have any thoughts on what I’m going to say?”

Kuroo hated reframing things, and he didn’t always believe the reframe, but he knew it was in his best interest to at least try.

“Even though I totally lost it and fucked so much up, I can’t be perfect and it’s fine to screw up, but I can do better next time.”

His therapist paused for a second, cocking his head to the side ever so slightly.

“You believe that?” he asked.

Not really. Kuroo’s chest felt tight.

“I don’t think so but I think that’s what you want me to think,” Kuroo answered honestly.

“I don’t think you’re right. You’re being too hard on yourself. If we’re being honest-“

“I blew it and luck saved my-“

“Kenma stuffed you into a bottle and shook you up for months. You asked to relieve a bit of the pressure and he denied you of that-“

“Yeah, and then I fucking exploded.”

“And then you held your tongue. You got yourself out of the situation. You calmed yourself down. You then called to fix it,” he said, “These aren’t the actions of a man who lost control.”

The shame inside of him flickered and flared.

“I wasn’t man enough to have a conversation I’ve been preparing for, for weeks now.”

“I don’t know what ‘man enough’ means to you, but to me, having the strength the step away counts.”

“It’s not good enough,” Kuroo insisted.

“I know you’re so used to hating yourself but if you would just look at this from the perspective of someone who doesn’t hate you, this wasn’t a failure. Couples do this. People who are married do this.”

Fractions of thoughts popped through Kuroo’s mind. Hating himself? Did he hate himself? Or was it shame? Couples? Was he in a couple? A demented couple? Marriage? Who in their right mind would marry someone like him?

“But they aren’t like me,” he said, forming the words slowly and with great effort, “A person having an occasional drink has no meaning, but an addict, someone trying to stop, having a drink means everything.”

A voice inside of him pointed out the irony of comparing himself to an alcoholic. It wasn’t like his relationship with drinking was healthier than his relationship with himself or anyone else in his life.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m trying to say. The addict didn’t take that drink. He walked away so he wouldn’t,” the therapist said, “Your goal isn’t to never be angry- it’s to not hurt yourself or anyone else because you are. And you didn’t. Everyone gets angry. If I were me in your shoes I would have been angry. And you know what I would have done? I probably would have walked away or maybe even raised my voice.”

Kuroo blinked rapidly, begging the tears pooling in his eyes not to spill over. His mouth was glued shut as he felt a lump form in the back of his throat.

“Kuroo, I’m proud of you.”

It was Kuroo’s favorite part of the work day, slacking off in a focus room after cranking out good work all morning. In the privacy of the small room, he scrolled through social media, played some trivia games online, and even tried his hand at some solitaire. Nothing really held his attention long, so he started looking for something else to do.

”Kenma,” Kuroo whined, awkwardly bumping his stress ball into the ceiling, “I’m bored.”

Kenma adjusted his glasses as he looked up from his code.

“Have you ever tried going on the internet? It’s this really cool invention that holds the world’s knowledge and contains things like humorous videos, art, games, trivia, and even up to date information about people you know and love.”

“But none of that stuff is fun right now,” Kuroo countered, rapidly closing his dozen open tabs.

“Come hang out then,” Kenma said, patting the bed next to him.

“Don’t pat the bed like I’m a cat,” Kuroo said, already getting up to comply.

“Here kitty kitty in your kitty kitty socks.”

Kuroo looked down to see that he was in fact wearing his cat paw socks.

“Hush you.”

Kuroo took his shirt off and climbed into bed next to Kenma.

“Mm, I didn’t say you could be a little scandalous,” Kenma pointed out, poking him in his bare side.

“Ah, you want me entirely scandalous,” Kuroo said.

He started taking off his shorts and Kenma set his laptop on the ground next to the bed.

“Fuck’s sake,” Kenma said.

He grabbed Kuroo by the shoulders and pulled him so that he was laying on top of him. Kuroo wrapped his arms around Kenma’s waist and placed a kiss on the shirt covering his stomach. Kenma let out a content sigh and started tracing Kuroo’s bare shoulderblades with his fingers.

Kuroo nuzzled his face into Kenma’s belly.

“I love you,” he mumbled.

“Only because I’m a distraction from the boredom?” Kenma joked.

Kuroo tickled Kenma in response, thrilled at the surprised shriek that came out of him.

It took him a minute, but then the answer seemed obvious. There was a game he used to dedicate hours to playing, but then dropped cold turkey. He clicked into his bookmarks.

His mouse hovered over the bookmarked link, his fingers tensed. Something about it felt wrong. It was illogical, truly, but he couldn’t make himself do it. Kenma would know he was playing. Kuroo didn’t ask how, but clearly Kenma knew when he was playing the first time.

He could see Konekenma’s message clear as day in his mind: 'I know you’re playing, and if you’re playing for the same reason I’m still developing it, please, please call me.’

He would never let words that changed everything dissipate from his mind, a metaphorical shrine to his life getting better.

So, there was no doubt that Kenma would be made known through some mechanism that he was playing, and that felt odd. Kuroo couldn’t tell if the sense of oddness was because it was dangerously close to the forbidden topic and Kenma would be uncomfortable or if he, himself, would be stressed out by facing more of his own faults. He liked to think he was better than that, but was he really? At some point facing himself in the mirror went from self-harm to self-improvement, but that didn’t make it easier. Kuroo wished he had a beer.

He had a strong feeling that he would play the game again sometime, but that day hadn’t come yet.

Normally, Kuroo would have never answered a phone call in the middle of the grocery store, but all bets were off when it came to Kenma. Everything was about Kenma, all of the time. His chest soared when he merely thought about Kenma, a fact that he was staunchly ignoring.

“I have a trade offer,” Kenma said, “Are you free on Friday night.”

“I am,” Kuroo said, looking for the brand of granola he liked.

“How about you come to this stupid dev conference with me. You get free food and to make fun of pretentious developers, your two favorite things, and I have someone preventing me from decorating the stage with my brains after a few hours of heinous talks,” he said, “You in?”

”Please?”

“Ugh, hell no,” Kenma said, his voice flat, “I’d rather you slice my jugular than be forced to go to a manly man bro night at the JVA.”

Kuroo frowned at him deeply. Was it really that bad?

“Hyperbole, obviously,” Kenma continued, nothing in his tone coming across as particularly convincing.

Kuroo bit back a response about not joking like that. He wanted to but was more than aware that it wasn’t his place.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Kuroo said, “I’m so in. What’s the dress code and can I pretend to be a developer?”

“It’s a high end conference. If you want to fit in really well, I’ll let you borrow one of my heinous video game ties to wear with one of your suits.”

Kuroo grinned.

“Kenma.”

“Uh, yeah?”

“How many heinous video game ties do you own?”

There was a second of silence on the other end as Kuroo tossed two random bags of granola into his cart.

“Way, way too many,” Kenma said, “You can pick which one you want if you get here early enough.”

“Hang on, what time even is this?” Kuroo asked.

“Starts at six.”

“Isn’t that like really late for a conference?” Kuroo asked, his eyes scanning the aisle signs for the protein powder.

“Gamers.”

Kenma didn’t need to elaborate. Kuroo was plenty familiar with the weird schedule of the gaming community as a whole.

“You look very much not alive,” Kuroo pointed out as Kenma walked up to him.

He was notably wearing his pants backwards.

“Correct,” Kenma responded, yawning.

“How are you supposed to play today?” Kuroo asked, “You’re going to fall asleep on the court.”

“Don’t care.”

Kuroo nudged into him.

“You know how yesterday after school you kept telling me that you were sitting around doing nothing?”

“Mhm.”

“And then you stayed up until like five in the morning playing video games?” Kuroo continued.

“Mhm.”

“Couldn’t you have just started playing them earlier in the evening?” he teased.

“Absolutely not,” Kenma said, “The vibes are better at night, obviously.”

Kuroo just looked at him, but didn’t say anything.

He wondered how Kenma handled being firmly in both the business world and the gaming world. They must be rather at odds, in schedules and otherwise.

Kuroo would never in a million years admit it, but he was wearing his most expensive suit in the hopes of getting Kenma’s attention. He even had a pocket square.

As he knocked on the door to Kenma’s place, he was ready to impress, but the plan failed almost immediately. Kuroo sighed as Kenma opened the door.

“Hey,” Kenma said, pulling on his designer tie, “Do you have Bluetooth headphones?”

His suit was the stuff of Kuroo’s wet dreams. It was perfectly tailored to his body. The tuxedo stripe on his pants matched the lapel of his suit jacket. Kuroo was going to cry. He was significantly outclassed by Kozume Kenma, internationally renowned nerd.

“Uh, no,” Kuroo said.

He had a pair of shitty wired earbuds he had bought approximately six years ago. He never wanted to bear the expense of the nice ones.

“You do now,” Kenma said, nodding at a box on the stairs, “I looked at the presentation lineup and you’re going to be so bored. If we sit near the back, you can probably wear those without looking too out of place.”

Kuroo stopped his face from showing what it wanted to show. What did Kenma mean by that? Was he letting him borrow the headphones or were they Kuroo’s to keep? That was a very expensive gift for an ex-boyfriend.

“Thanks,” Kuroo said, moving to take a better look at them, “But I think I’ll probably survive without them.”

He was surprised by how mentally acknowledging Kenma as his ex-boyfriend didn’t seem as painful as usual. Things had been progressing, slowly but surely.

“Of course you could,” Kenma said, moving around him to head upstairs, “But you really don’t want to hear multiple talks in a row on outsourcing soundtracks. Ties are on the table.”

Kuroo was a bit distracted by Kenma’s erratic vibe, but he walked over to the table and took a look at the ties Kenma had set out.

They were as hideous as promised.

Some of them had characters from specific games. Some had more general video game motifs, but there was one of them that caught his eye- one he knew very well.

Kuroo was really excited about his first birthday gift for Kenma as a boyfriend instead of a friend. He’d spent an embarrassingly large amount of time at the store, narrowing down exactly which tie to get.

He ended up choosing one that was somewhat green and red, but it was very pixelated. At the bottom it had a little stitched controller from an antique gaming system.

”This is the ugliest tie I’ve ever seen,” Kenma admitted, finishing unwrapping it.

Kuroo’s heart dropped.

“Oh,” he said, “Well, I could exchange it for a different one.”

“Oh, no,” Kenma said, taking it out of its box, “I fucking love it and I’m absolutely wearing it to my next booth.”

Kuroo was obviously picking that one. He probably wouldn’t have if not for its past, but he couldn’t pass it up.

After tying it around his neck, he took another look at the headphones. They were clearly expensive and sleek. He carefully slit open the plastic with his nail and took them out of the box.

Supposedly connecting them was super easy, but that was what he was still working on by the time Kenma returned.

“I kinda figured,” Kenma said, walking over to Kuroo.

Kuroo was going to reply but he was much too distracted by Kenma to do so. He’d done his hair. It was a fairly simple look, the sides slicked back into a bun and the back hanging loose, but paired with the suit, it looked incredible. It looked dominant. It looked terrifying, and that admittedly turned Kuroo on, just the slightest little bit.

“Uh no,” he heard Kenma say, looking more uncomfortable than he had the entire night, “We aren’t really looking to enter the pornography industry at this point.”

“Kozume-san,” Kuroo said, sliding into their conversation, “Nice to see you again.”

He handed Kenma the mocktail he was holding as if he didn’t grab it specifically for Kenma.

“I’m very glad to make your acquaintance again,” Kenma said, turning his attention to Kuroo, “If you want to play ball I think we can make something happen tonight.”

“If you ever change your mind,” the third man said, realizing he’d been dismissed, “Here’s my card.”

“Thank you,” Kenma said, grabbing it from him to tuck it into his blazer.

Once the man was well out of the bounds of their area, Kenma mouthed a ‘holy shit’ at Kuroo.

“You didn’t ask me about my pitch,” Kuroo pointed out, taking a sip of his drink.

“So you do wanna play ball,” Kenma said, raising an eyebrow, “What do you have for me?”

“First, here’s my card.”

Kuroo took a business card from his pocket and handed it to Kenma. It was his normal business card except the ‘JVA Sports Promotion Division’ part was crossed out with a marker and replaced with ‘Hard Core Gamer.’

Kuroo came home to see a small bag wrapped in newspaper with a heart drawn on it. He looked around for Kenma, but he must have been out running errands.

He slipped off his messenger bag and opened the gift to find a stack of custom made business cards for his new position at the JVA. He didn’t have the heart to tell Kenma that they had already made him a set.

He liked Kenma’s better anyway.

“How long have you been waiting to hand me that?” Kenma asked, doing his best not to smile.

“Literally this entire time,” Kuroo said, “Anyway, I seem to recall you creating a first person horror game a few years ago.”

“I, too, recall the game.”

Kenma gave him an expectant stare and Kuroo was grateful he didn’t have to do any sort of real business with Kenma. No wonder their first meeting was such a nightmare. Kenma wasn’t about to let anything be easy.

“I was thinking, what if we remade it but with massive pairs of bouncing tits instead of mutant zombies.”

Kenma was clearly trying not to spit his drink out. He covered his face with his hand before recovering enough to pull the other developer’s card out of his blazer and hand it to Kuroo.

“I think this guy might be a better match for your needs.”

Kuroo grabbed it and tried to roll his eyes but he was too busy looking at how beautiful Kenma’s were.

“Next up, we’d like to introduce our invited speaker today, Kozume Kenma, also known as Kodzuken,” the woman said as Kenma got up and started making his way to the stage, “Kozume-san founded Bouncing Ball by himself, using his streaming career to advertise the company and its games. As of today, Bouncing Ball is the quickest growing business in the gaming world, going from a small indie startup to international big hitter. Kozume Kenma everyone!”

The cheers exploded in the room. It was somewhat surreal to Kuroo, realizing just how much of an impact Kenma had made on the community.

He admittedly didn’t even know what Kenma’s speech was going to be about, but he’d seen Kenma give multiple speeches in their time together and they all had one thing in common: they’re painful to sit through.

He braced for impact.

”Look at this bullshit,” Kenma said, throwing a paper at Kuroo.

It flipped and fluttered down to the floor. Kuroo picked it up to see Kenma’s schedule for the next semester. It looked like a very Kenma friendly schedule, all classes at noon or later so he wasn’t sure what the issue was.

“It looks fine,” Kuroo said, “At least you don’t have neuroscience at eight in the morning.”

“You chose to have a neuroscience minor,” Kenma pointed out, “I have no pity.”

“Then what’s your issue?”

“The Monday night class is intro to public speaking,” he said, rolling his eyes, “I’m not going to be a motivational speaker. I’m going to sit on a computer for ten hours a day and type code into a box. It’s so stupid.”

“Then why are you taking it?”

“It’s mandatory for game design majors. I guess it’s because tech people don’t know how to communicate or something.”

Kuroo just stared at him, opting to let the silence get his point across.

“Hello everyone,” Kenma said into the mic, an amused smile on his face, “I’d like to thank the organizers of this conference. They’ve truly done an excellent job putting this together.”

Kuroo’s eyes caught on someone a few rows in front of him who’d taken out their phone to surreptitiously record the speech.

“Since I was told I could give a speech on any topic today, I’m going to tell you why my company, Bouncing Ball, sucks.”

Kuroo looked up at him as everyone laughed. Kenma looked entirely comfortable as if he was talking to a handful of friends instead of a sea of hundreds of strangers. Kuroo’s heart soared. Kenma had grown so much, so quickly.

“I’m not kidding,” Kenma continued, his voice low, but not quiet, “Bouncing Ball sucks for quite a few reasons and I’m gonna let you know what they are today.”

”They hated it,” Kenma said, nearly in tears.

“Kenma,” Kuroo said, setting his hands on his shoulders, “I was literally there. They had two minor critiques. They really liked it.”

“Two critiques is too many,” Kenma said, staring down at the hard drive in his hand like he wanted to smash it.

Kuroo carefully unwrapped Kenma’s fingers from it and took it from him.

“I think they had pretty good points,” Kuroo said, “As hard as it is to hear, I think they were right in saying that it’s great but they’re also right in saying some of the blending is a little distracting.”

“It's no fucking good,” Kenma said, looking away, “I’ll have to start over.”

It occurred to Kuroo that even if he wasn’t curious about what Kenma was going to say next, he was drawn in. Kenma was a very charismatic speaker all of a sudden.

Or was he just really pretty?

Kuroo couldn’t tell, but figured it might be a combination of the two.

“Last month, DPI-Japan, an association of disability advocates rated Bouncing Ball as a C+ for our media company accessibility score and that’s horrible,” he said, “When I was a single developer in my room with no resources, it’d still be bad, but at least there’d be an excuse. There is no excuse now. Bouncing Ball has to do better. As an industry we have to do better. Video gaming is for everyone. Period. End of story.”

Kuroo couldn’t help but stare. Kenma had grown into a beautiful, capable, strong man, full of energy and fervor. He even looked healthier. What had happened to Kenma in the last year? Who was he?

“So I’m going to teach you through our mistakes, how to be a better company than we have been.”

Kuroo gritted his teeth. The elephant in the room was no longer hidden in the corner. The elephant in the room was beautiful, and funny, and well-spoken, and self-assured. The elephant in the room wasn’t just the man Kuroo once loved. It was so much more. It was the man he once loved, but evolved to be happy, to be functional, to be independent, to be perfect.

Kuroo’s face burned.

When Kenma asked if Kuroo wanted to use his neighbor’s hot tub at night so they could enjoy the fun lighting and the cool air, Kuroo didn’t anticipate there being an issue, but he was dead wrong.

They weren’t doing anything untoward, just sitting and talking, something they did on the regular, but every last one of Kuroo’s skin cells was on fire. Something about the atmosphere made his body scream to lean over and kiss Kenma, winding his hands in the long, precious hair. Kuroo was doing his absolute best to not think like that, to ignore the fact that he was quickly falling in love with Kenma again and to just enjoy the fancy hot tub, but that was much easier said than done.

The way that a rare beer had stained Kenma’s cheeks pink and stray bits of hair were hanging out of his bun and the way the colored lights reflected off of his pale chest and how he laughed easy and smiled often and the water was warm but the air was cold and he moved his legs up so they were mere inches from Kuroo’s and how his lips were just a little chapped so he mindlessly licked them every once in a while.

Kuroo was a goner.

“When I invited you to the hot tub, I didn’t check to see if there was going to be a tornado,” Kenma said with a laugh.

He was referring to the wind that had just picked up, threatening to knock over their beers and repeatedly tossing leaves at them. They’d have to fish them all out of the hot tub before they called it a night.

The worse tornado, in Kuroo’s opinion, was actually the way Kenma’s laugh was tearing him apart on the inside. He was in love with Kenma. There was no denying it any longer. Kenma’s little laugh unlocked the floodgates and it started pouring out.

He was in love with Kenma.

He was in love with Kenma.

He was in love with Kenma.

He loved the old Kenma, but this new Kenma? Kuroo couldn’t even process the way he felt. His heart ached, the sweetest little pain.

He had to get a hold of himself. Being in love with Kenma didn’t matter. He was going to do the right thing and let Kenma decide what to do and when to do it. He needed to keep his love to himself. He thought keeping his thorny conversation to himself was hard enough, but this? This was torture.

He smiled, repositioning his long arms to rest on the sides of the tub. Friends. They were friends. Just friends. Kenma wasn’t his boyfriend. He wasn’t even his ex-boyfriend. He was Just Kenma.

“What can I say? I like a little bit of danger while hot tubbing,” Kuroo said, smiling as more leaves rained down upon them.

He watched Kenma carefully and noticed him gulp before moving a shaky hand to grab his beer.

“There’s a leaf in your hair,” Kenma said, eyelids low.

Kuroo frowned and patted his head looking for it, but he couldn’t feel it.

“To the right,” Kenma said, mimicking the spot on his own head.

Kenma set his beer down slowly as Kuroo ran his fingers through his partially damp hair, unable to find it.

Kenma leaned forward, his hand ever so slightly grazing Kuroo’s hair to pluck the leaf out. Kuroo held his breath. The tiny distance from Kenma’s face to his own was too much to handle, but he had to handle it. He had no other choice.

Making matters worse, Kenma didn’t pull back, staring into Kuroo’s eyes.

“You feel it too. Don’t you?” Kenma asked, staring down at Kuroo’s lips.

Kuroo just nodded, unable to speak, Kenma’s eyes turning him to stone.

He didn’t realize Kenma felt it too. How could he? Wasn’t Kenma supposed to be the rational one?

Kenma suddenly broke the eye contact, tossing the leaf out of the tub and onto the ground before retreating back to his corner of the tub. Kuroo watched as he closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths, his chest rising and falling.

“Fuck. Fuck,” Kenma said, “Damnit Tetsurou.”

Tetsurou.

“I-“ Kuroo started, not entirely sure why he was being scolded for answering the question honestly.

Kenma opened his eyes before making his move, crossing the hot tub and resting his knees on either side of Kuroo’s legs. It wasn’t long before his hands were in Kuroo’s hair and lips just centimeters away from Kuroo’s own.

“Can, can I-“ Kenma started, his eyes frantically searching Kuroo’s, only for Kuroo to cut him off by smashing their lips together.

The kiss was unbelievably desperate, all tongue and shaky fingers. Kuroo gathered every ounce of his strength and gently pushed Kenma away.

It was the right thing to do, but damn did he want to continue. He might never forgive himself.

“You said we needed to uh do things if we wanted to go be further than friends,” Kuroo said, unable to pull his eyes from Kenma’s lips.

“Damnit. Damnit,” Kenma said, getting out of the tub entirely, “I wasn’t supposed to do that.”

“Oh,” Kuroo said, followed by a moment of painful silence, “I can forget it happened.”

It would just be a continuation of what they had been doing after all. One more moment to toss on the unspeakable pile.

“No,” Kenma said, a nervous laugh bubbling out of his chest, “You can’t.”

Kenma shivered before grabbing one of the towels and wrapping it around himself.

“If you don’t want me, we don’t have to get back together,” Kuroo said, the words cutting him up on the way out. He wasn’t sure how he survived until the end of the sentence.

“That’s the issue,” Kenma said, his voice low, “I do want you.”

Chapter Text

It took Kuroo a moment to let what was happening sink in and then another moment after that to move.

“So what now?” Kuroo asked, shakily getting out of the tub.

“We close up the tub and go to bed.”

Kenma shrugged and tossed the other towel at Kuroo before using the small net on the side of the hot tub to scoop the leaves out. He stared intensely at them as he did his job.

“And then?” Kuroo prompted.

“Help me get this cover on,” Kenma said, “And then we figure it out in the morning.”

“Okay.”

It had taken Kuroo forever to fall asleep in Kenma’s guest bedroom. He’d figured his morning would be wrought with frustration and confusion, a tense atmosphere to pair with exhaustion.

He was pleasantly surprised to find the opposite as he trudged downstairs. Kenma had already made them coffee and had biscuits in the oven.

“Good morning,” Kenma said, finishing whatever he was typing on his laptop before closing it.

“Good morning,” Kuroo said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “How’s it going?”

He felt like he was going to scream in excitement, confusion, and nervousness. The fact that he was all but socially required to start with small talk was a bother and generally ridiculous. They both knew what they needed to be talking about, so why not get it out there?

“I’m alright,” Kenma said with a soft smile, “So, let’s talk about it whenever you’re ready.”

For a brief moment Kuroo wished they actually did choose to small talk for a bit longer. He truly had no idea how the conversation was going to go.

“Now’s fine,” Kuroo said, nerves taking over the other emotions as he went to fill a mug.

What if Kenma regretted the kiss? Kuroo knew the kiss wasn’t wise, per se, but he certainly didn’t regret it. It was a good kiss.

“Sounds good,” Kenma said, stretching, “I’m ready too.”

Kuroo tried and failed to stifle his immediate thought that Kenma’s scrunched little yawning face was adorable.

”I’m going to go back to my dorm,” Kenma said, getting up.

“How about I walk you?” Kuroo asked.

Even though the campus was rather safe, it was getting dark.

He wasn’t sure exactly what his feelings toward Kenma had become, but they were certainly more than friendly.

“Fine,” Kenma said, stretching his arms in the air as he yawned.

His shirt rode up just a sliver and Kuroo did his best to not let his jaw drop.

Love. It was definitely love that he was feeling towards Kenma.

“If you want me, I want to try this again,” Kuroo said, “I want to right my wrongs, but mostly, I just want you. I know you don’t believe me, but I know I can do better.”

Kuroo sat down at the table, wrapping his shaking fingers around his coffee. He felt calm and terrified at the same time. It was happening, finally, which should have been calming, but it was terrifying. It also felt like one of those pivotal moments that would make or break someone’s future, which should have been terrifying, but it was inexplicably calming to him.

“Same here,” Kenma said.

Kenma’s smile was more than enough to melt Kuroo’s heart. Between that and the relief from hearing those words, Kuroo broke into a smile of his own.

“What do we need to do to not fuck it up this time?”

He didn’t feel a lick of terror as he asked the question, the calm taking over it entirely. Love had clearly made him stupid.

“Well, I want to start by taking you to my therapist if you don’t mind,” Kenma said, “She’s been wanting to meet you and said she could help steer us into a solid beginning.”

How long had Kenma been considering restarting their relationship? He knew Kenma was starting to open up, but the kiss came as a complete surprise. Clearly if Kenma had discussed it with his therapist, he was readier than Kuroo thought.

“For like one session or more?” Kuroo asked, frowning as he tried to gauge Kenma’s timeline.

“Start with one and more if she thinks more would help. You can’t steal her from me though.”

Kuroo laughed.

“Listen, I’ll do it. Don’t get me wrong, I’ll do it,” he said, his nostrils flaring, “I’m just saying our mediator is going to be significantly biased in your favor.”

“Oh, please,” Kenma said, waving him off, “Her favorite hobby is roasting me. I can’t even count the amount of times she’s absolutely dunked on me during a session.”

Kuroo pursed his lips.

“I’m not sure that’s what a therapist is supposed to be doing,” he pointed out, “Mine definitely doesn’t do that.”

“You’re seeing a therapist?” Kenma asked, genuine and pleasant surprise written on his face, “That’s kinda hot.”

Kuroo tried not to blush.

“Yeah,” Kuroo said, skirting around the comment, “It’s possible that I realized I’m a bit of a fucking disaster.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Kenma hummed, “You go there to get your mess sorted out and then they make you suffer in the face of your own failings before it gets better.”

“I feel like your therapist might be a sadist. None of that is occurring during my sessions,” Kuroo said, laughing, “What exactly is this woman saying to you? Does she have a degree? Is she even licensed? Where did you find her?”

Kenma mimed someone holding a clipboard and scribbling all over the paper, a disappointed look on his face.

“Have you considered the reason you think everyone around you hates you is because you hate yourself and yet you never actually do anything to make yourself better- only more productive? But guess what, nobody loves someone because they’re productive so at the end of the day you’re wearing yourself thin, but for no good reason.”

“Holy shit,” Kuroo said, “I’m now terrified to see her. I’m not sure I can emotionally handle that. I’m pretty fragile as of late.”

He said it as a joke but it certainly wasn’t inaccurate.

“You’ll be fine,” Kenma assured, “Me on the other hand? Probably not. I have a feeling having an audience is only going to spur her on.”

“And what about you? What have you been doing to make yourself a more whole person since the two of you split?”

Kuroo was admittedly terrified of Kenma’s therapist since Kenma’s initial description, but she seemed to be both helping Kenma work through a lot and not particularly gunning for Kuroo, so he couldn’t complain.

“I am seeing a therapist,” Kuroo explained, “It’s been weekly lately.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” she said, “I will of course not ask you to divulge anything you’ve shared with them, but can I ask if it is helping?”

“I think so,” Kuroo said, “It’s nice to have someone help me sort feelings and behaviors. I think I spent my life just acting and not thinking about how I felt or the things I did, so to slow down and really think about it has taken me out of autopilot.”

He felt like he was being interviewed. If he was, that was a pretty good answer.

“Absolutely,” she said, “Mind telling me a bit about what your day to day life looks like?”

“Well,” he said with a chuckle, “Lately it’s been a lot of trying to keep myself to a schedule. Working. Working out. Eating. Sleeping. Hanging out with Kenma.”

Thinking about Kenma. Looking at Kenma. Talking to Kenma.

“What do you do in your spare time?”

Well, he used to play a cat game, but that pastime went away after their reconnection. Hanging out with Kenma was the honest answer. He loved being at Kenma’s house, whether that be to talk or play games or just work in silence. Kenma could ask him to come over and count the shower tiles and Kuroo would be excited to do it.

“I don’t have the same thing I do every day. Little bit of this, little bit of that,” he said, doing his best to make it not clear that the answer was actually ‘nothing outside of Kenma’. Kenma was the one who needed to learn not to be codependent, not him, so he deemed it to be fine, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

“It was nice to finally get to know you,” she said, “Can I make a suggestion for how to move forward? I’m bringing this up now so we have time to work it out before the end of the session.”

They both nodded.

“Starting this off with a half-naked spontaneous kiss wasn’t your best plan,” she pointed out, “But based on what I know about you two it certainly wasn’t the worst plan you’ve ever had.”

Kuroo had the intense urge to blame Kenma for the kiss. To be fair, Kenma came onto him. He didn’t say no, but Kenma did start it.

“It was a good kiss,” Kenma said, leaning back in his chair.

“Sure, that doesn’t mean it was good judgment though. I know you have been getting closer, which is good, but you also haven’t been working on making anything better, so starting abruptly where you left off, fairly close but highly dysfunctional. I mean, how did you expect this to work? Why did you think this would be a good idea to not work anything out but then decide it’s time to get back together?”

Kuroo’s stomach turned. Was she going to tell them to wait even longer? They were so close to making it official. He could taste it. He wanted to taste it.

“I’m-“ Kuroo started.

“Not you. I was actually talking about the one who refused to talk literally anything out and also probably was the one who initiated the kiss,” she said, “That is my point of confusion.”

Kuroo felt oddly validated at the comment. A professional said he was handling things better than Kenma. It wasn’t a competition, but it did feel good.

“How did you know it was me?” Kenma asked.

“Because you’ve learned how to be assertive but you’ve forgotten how to use your brain,” she said, “If you want to get together that’s fine but doing that without even trying to discuss the problem?”

Kenma let out a sigh and Kuroo tried to sink into his chair so he could get out of the conversation. It almost felt like he was young again and his parents were arguing as they always were.

“I didn’t want to ruin what we had going,” Kenma explained, “It was fine and I didn’t want to make it worse and get hurt.”

“Kuroo,” she said, looking right at him, “Would you say that this pattern of behavior contributed to your original break up?”

“I, uh-“ Kuroo said, not wanting to be the interlocutor between the fighting grown-ups, “I mean lots of things led to the, uh, split, but not talking about things to avoid making them worse seemed like a theme.”

“Yes,” Kenma said, “It was a problem, but I’m better at it now.”

“Sort of,” the therapist said, “You’re better at coming up with and setting boundaries and fixing problems before they even happen, but one day, there will be a problem you can’t anticipate, and then what?”

Silence stretched out, causing Kuroo physical pain.

“I can do it,” Kuroo said, “I can be the one to bring it up. It takes two.”

“And you’re known for your effective communicating skills? You don’t get childish or overly angry?” she asked.

Kuroo was a bit stunned. The point of therapy was for Kenma to talk through important parts of his life, one of which was the breakup, but that didn’t mean Kuroo was expecting to catch a comment of that velocity.

“Okay, well, I’m working on that, and I’m much better than I was. I’ve been practicing.”

“He has,” Kenma interjected.

“And when you have a problem and Kuroo doesn’t realize there is a problem? What then?”

Kuroo was mostly glad not to be the one on the receiving end of the question, but he was curious to see what Kenma was going to say. It was somewhat refreshing to get to the core of the issue, but scary nonetheless.

“I am aware of the problem,” Kenma said, “But we can work on that and by we, I mean you and me, you know, using the other half of therapy for that.”

Kuroo didn’t really know what that meant. Kenma was clearly on a whole new level of therapy. He made a mental note to ask him about it at some point.

She nodded.

“Anyway, I think if you want to do this, you need to go at it like it’s your first time dating. You want things to be taken slowly so you can work issues out without feeling the added pressure of rushing through them so you can move onto the dating.”

“Got it,” Kenma said, “So no moving in or talks of marriage or whatnot?”

Kuroo tried not to react to the ‘M’ word. He was only mildly successful.

“Right. That’s what I suggest. I think it’s the best way for you to go forward,” she said, her tone kinder than it had been.

“Sure. We can totally do that. Anything else?” Kuroo asked.

The excitement was already starting to return. Dating? What an excellent prospect.

“No sex,” she said, looking directly at Kenma, “Especially you.”

“Hey now,” Kenma said, “I don’t think you can single me out on this one. It’s hard for only one of us to have sex.”

“I’m frankly concerned about your ability to separate feelings from sex.”

Kuroo was impatient, but not with Kenma, just the situation. Even though Kenma was causing the situation, Kuroo harbored no hard feelings towards him.

Well, one hard feeling.

He palmed Kenma over his underwear and Kenma immediately blushed.

“So,” Kuroo said, his other hand teasingly pulling at Kenma’s waistband, “Can I?”

Kenma looked away and nodded. Kuroo paused. What did that mean?

“Is that a yes?” Kuroo asked, stilling his hands.

Kenma made a little noise and looked up at the ceiling.

“Do you want me to do this?” Kuroo asked, enunciating his words.

He hoped Kenma would say yes. He really wanted to get Kenma off, but couldn’t quite tell if Kenma was in the same boat as he was.

“Mm,” Kenma hummed, at least looking at Kuroo that time.

“Kenma,” Kuroo said, planting his face into the the bed, “I’m gonna need more clear guidance than that.”

“Um, yes, assuming you want to, I guess, yeah.”

Kuroo did his best to keep the sigh inside of his body. He adored Kenma, but was on the verge of shaking him.

“Yes, but only because I want to or yes, because you actually want me to?” Kuroo asked into the mattress.

“Okay, yes, because I want it.”

Kenma said it confidently. Kuroo grinned and removed his face from the sheets. It was finally time. Not wanting to waste a second, he pressed a kiss into Kenma’s bare stomach and slid his underwear off. He could feel Kenma’s muscles clench, so he placed a few more kisses on his stomach, glancing down at Kenma’s dick in between each one.

“I’m going to suck you off,” Kuroo said, bringing his eyes to Kenma’s, “You cool with that?”

Kenma’s eyebrows flew up.

“I mean, yeah, but don’t most people start with hand stuff?”

“Not when your dick is this pretty,” Kuroo said, “I want it in my mouth.”

“Oh. Wow, uh, yeah, I think that’d be nice of you,” Kenma said, cringing at his own words.

Kuroo took a second to smile up at him before giving Kenma’s dick a playful lick. He didn’t really know what he was doing, but he’d figure it out. Anything for Kenma.

“Oh my god. Oh my god,” Kenma said as Kuroo went for a second one, “I’m like really in love with you.”

Kuroo bit back a question. Why would Kenma’s therapist know that about him? Was Kenma really that self-aware? Or were there other men since they broke up? Kenma hadn’t mentioned anyone.

“Brutal,” Kenma said, “But fine, no sex. We will be very casual and start from the beginning.”

Kuroo wondered if Kenma felt like he was legally or morally bound to his therapist’s recommendations.

“I’m not going to force you into not doing things you want to do, but I think the best way to handle this is to keep things pretty casual. No talks of long term relationships. No moving in. No sex. You know, early dating things. It’ll give you some time to work things out without feeling pressured, and it’ll give you time to make sure this is something that you actually want to move forward with.”

“Oh, I want this,” Kenma said, “No doubt in my mind.”

Kuroo was thankful for the confidence with which Kenma spoke. He knew deep down that it would later make it harder for his insecurities to eat at him.

“I do too,” Kuroo said.

“Well, in that case, just think about it as a free trial of dating,” she said, “Does this all make sense? Or do you think I’m off base here?”

Kuroo nodded.

“So,” he said, “To summarize, you want us to casually date each other like very casual? No crazy deep commitments. No nudity. We work some things out along the way and if we’re still feeling good in a month or so, we come back and work on making things more official?”

She nodded.

“You’re such a good client,” she said, giving him an appreciative look.

Kuroo inexplicably felt like he was about to blush before he was distracted by how aggressively Kenma rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I was working out. I’ll go shower, then we can do something,” Kenma said, holding up his gym bag.

Kuroo nodded.

“We should go together,” he said, and upon seeing Kenma’s face, quickly amended, “To the gym, I mean.”

Kenma walked a bit closer and Kuroo took a glance at his expensive looking workout clothes.

“I mean, sorry, but I’d rather you didn’t, like I don’t think that’d work well,” he said, awkwardly shifting his weight, “But thanks for the offer.”

“Yeah, no worries.”

Kuroo meant it. Working out could be hard for someone with ample free time and perfect mental health. With Kenma’s anxiety and the fact that he’s a CEO, Kuroo was simply thrilled to hear that he was going at all, lest going consistently and making noticeable progress.

He wondered how long after the break up that Kenma started working out. He refused to let his mind dwell on it. Similar thought experiments didn’t do much but make him spiral.

“I know, I do feel bad about it, and I do get that it sucks, but sadly it’s gotta be this way for a while. I don’t know how long. Maybe always. And yeah it’s dumb,” Kenma said, tensing and relaxing his fingers.

“It’s no problem,” Kuroo insisted.

“No, it’s just, this stuff is hard for me, you know? And I’ve only now gotten to a point where I can get myself to consistently go and feel comfortable going. And it’s not you that makes it hard, it’s just uh, I don’t know how to say it, you adjacent.”

Kuroo cocked his head to the side. He didn’t for a second think that he was at fault, so what was Kenma dancing around? The one thing he’d always been patient with Kenma about was working out. He always offered to help, and encouraged him to do it, but never pressured him if he didn’t.

“Uh, it’s fine,” Kuroo said, “Like I was not vaguely concerned about it until you said that.”

Kenma paused for a second.

“It’s not on you, I promise.”

It’d been less than twelve hours since their joint therapy session, but Kuroo wasn’t exactly one to let something sit, not anymore. It wasn’t good for him. Maybe once he got better at being an adjusted adult, he could be more mature about letting things lie, but he knew he was at the point where it was better to just get them out of the way.

“Maybe this is one of these times it would be important for you to talk to me about, like open and honest, you know?” Kuroo said gently.

Kenma stared down at the floor and Kuroo watched as he shifted his weight, side to side, and side to side.

“If you say so,” Kenma told the floor, “I don’t like people watching me work out. The fact that I’m letting someone tell me how to work out is a miracle. It’s hard not to feel weak.”

It wasn’t until the last word that Kuroo figured out what Kenma was talking about.

Kuroo did a double take as he glanced around the club room to see Kenma’s after practice outfit tucked into his cubby. People had already left, but it looked like Kenma hadn’t even changed out of his practice gear.

“You seen Kenma?” Kuroo asked one of his seniors.

“Oh, haha,” the boy said, “He’s in a meeting with cap’n. Gotta decide if he’s worth keeping.”

Tryouts were over. Kenma, and both of the other first years, were admitted.

“Didn’t the first years all get confirmed like two weeks ago?” Kuroo asked.

He glanced around and saw Fukunaga and Yamamoto getting ready to walk out.

“Just because Coach likes him doesn’t mean we have to keep him,” he said, placing his hand on Kuroo’s shoulder, “I know y’all do your cute little homo walks home together but he’s gonna be here for a while, so you might as well leave.”

Kuroo clenched his hands.

“Kenma’s good,” Kuroo said, “He’s a better player than half of you morons. Where is he?”

The hand on Kuroo’s shoulder squeezed hard. It was long past comforting, the squeezing was clearly meant to hurt.

“I used to have respect for you, man,” his senior said.

All of the third years did, before Kuroo came out as bi, anyway.

“Like I care,” Kuroo said, grabbing him by the wrist and tossing his hand to the side.

“What? You gonna go find your little boyfriend?”

Kuroo pushed past him.

“I’m going home, like you said.”

He glanced around as he walked out, quickly making his way back to the weight room. His teammate hadn’t told him that Kenma would be there, but Kuroo knew it for a fact.

“Oh no, no no, I can’t.”

Kuroo heard Kenma’s shaky voice and his hair stood on end.

“One hundred and two more,” their captain’s voice came, “Your weak ass can give up whenever you want. Then we can be rid of you, huh?”

Kuroo froze.

“I’ve already- I’ve- done- two hundred. I can’t- I can’t do-“

Was that counting whatever they did during weight training? Two hundred of what?

“You’ve actually done one hundred and ninety eight and if you think you belong on this team, you’re going to do the rest of them. I don’t have all night either. Get going, shrimp.”

Kuroo finally snapped into action, tossing open the door and stomping in. He glanced over to see Kenma doing a sit up, the captain standing on his feet, looking down at him.

“Kuroo-kun! You here to come rescue your boyfriend?” his captain asked him, “I told this one here not to tell you where he was going.”

Kuroo’s throat went dry. Why did Kenma have to suffer from Kuroo’s decision to come out?

“I’m not gay,” Kenma said, visibly gritting his teeth, “And I didn’t tell him anything.”

Kenma wrenched his eyes away, and did an incredibly shaky sit-up. Kuroo’s heart hurt.

“What kind of man are you? Taking out your problems with me on a first year?” Kuroo asked.

Kuroo crossed his arms and straightened up, making sure to emphasize his size.

“Oh, we gotta tough guy in here?” the captain said, moving to face him, “If my problem was with you, you’d be the one doing sit ups. My problem is with the weak. I don’t like you, don’t get me wrong, but you’re not weak.”

“I could go to Coach,” Kuroo said, “Get your ass kicked off the team.”

Coach Nekomata wouldn’t allow this to happen if he had any idea it what going on. His old ass would be incensed.

“Keep curling, scrawny. I’m gonna add ten more for this distraction,” the captain said, briefly looking back down at Kenma before returning his attention to Kuroo, “And I know you’re not dumb enough to do that, and dumb enough to think he’ll believe you in the first place.”

“Oh, come on-“ Kuroo started.

“Leave,” Kenma said, his entire body shaking as he tried to sit up again.

“I can-“ Kuroo started.

“Fuck off,” Kenma spit, his back slamming onto the mat, “Just go home. I don’t fucking want you here.”

Kuroo wordlessly turned around and headed out the door, guilt eating him alive.

“It’s fine, really,” Kenma said, seemingly gathering himself, “I’m going to go shower. I’ll be back.”

“Hey, uh,” Kenma said, walking back into the front room. His hair was wet and he was wearing comfy clothing, “Kuro?”

It was clear that Kenma couldn’t figure out what to call Kuroo and landed on just using his name.

“Mhm?”

Kenma looked nervous, his arms held behind him. Kuroo wasn’t used to seeing Kenma like that. Well, Kuroo wasn’t used to seeing New Kenma like that. He’d seen Kenma nervous plenty of times before he became New Kenma.

“I’ve got a proposal for you,” Kenma started, “I think we should talk through some more-“

“Agreed,” Kuroo said.

He wasn’t sure exactly what Kenma wanted to talk through, but he was really ready for anything Kenma could throw at him.

“Uh, right,” Kenma said, “But what I was going to say is that this is going to be really rough and I was wondering if maybe we could play cards sometimes and like tackle baby things.”

Kuroo paused. He wasn’t sure if it was even possible to tackle the baby things without getting to the core of it. It was all hopelessly intertwined but he wasn’t going to say that. The last thing he wanted to do was discourage Kenma in anyway from talking things through.

“When do we start?” Kuroo asked, keeping his tone light.

Kenma moved his arms from being tucked behind him to reveal that he was holding a deck of cards.

“I kinda thought, did you wanna pick the first thing?” Kenma asked, gently tossing the deck of cards at Kuroo.

Kuroo caught it easily.

“Sure,” he said, before realizing that he didn’t have a baby steps topic to discuss off the top of his head, “Wanna go to the kotatsu?”

Kenma nodded, and Kuroo started following him to the game room.

“I’m going to try to be good at this,” Kenma said as they walked in, “I don’t know if I will be though.”

They were definitely in uncharted territory. Really though, how bad could Kenma be? Quiet? Shut down? Kuroo had talked to that Kenma for years.

“That’s okay,” Kuroo said, taking his place at the kotatsu, “I think we can manage regardless.”

“I have faith,” Kenma said, his tone indicating that he did not in fact have faith.

Kuroo considered different topics as he shuffled and dealt the cards. There were plenty of options, most of them the very big things.

But there was one that just kept coming back into the forefront of his mind, and it was something that seemed like a prerequisite to move any further.

“So,” Kuroo started, “I wanted to talk about being bi.”

Kenma looked up from his cards at Kuroo.

“I’m not bi,” Kenma said, confused.

“Yeah, I know, I meant I feel like you’re kinda weird about it,” Kuroo said, hoping Kenma would understand his point.

“I have no objection to you being bi,” Kenma said, still clearly confused.

Kuroo was silent for a moment as he sorted his cards and considered his starting play.

“Well, it’s just that,” he started, tossing a card into the space between them, “You used to get weird about me hanging out with women.”

Kenma played a card and raised an eyebrow at Kuroo.

“I’m not trying to be difficult here, but I genuinely don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Part of Kuroo wanted to just say never mind and avoid the conversation entirely. He could just stop this now and route them to something else. He could find a different issue to address or just stop addressing issues in general. Maybe it would feel better to be stupid and just let it be.

“You’ve heavily implied that I was cheating on you with like all of the women I was hanging out with,” Kuroo said, forcing the words out so they couldn’t be taken back, “I don’t wanna say it but that’s literally a bi stereotype and it makes me feel gross.”

He felt like he had to be gentle about it, which seemed ridiculous. Why be with someone who believed in stereotypes? It was an odd dent in his conception of Kenma. Kenma was ultimately the one more familiar with queer issues and should have been better. He frowned, feeling the slightest bit of heat in his chest.

“Well,” Kenma said.

His tone indicated that he was going to continue the sentence, but silence hung between them as they each played a few cards.

Was Kenma not man enough to face his problems? If so, what was the point of all this? Why deal with probation if there wasn’t anything that would come out of it in the end?

“Well?” Kuroo prompted.

He wouldn’t let Kenma get away with not answering. It was good for them to continue the conversation, but there was also a little bit of sourness behind his insistence. It was past time for Kenma to do some lifting.

“For what it’s worth,” Kenma said, finally, “It wasn’t actually just women I thought you were cheating on me with.”

Kuroo was a lot of things, but he wasn’t a cheater, and he didn’t take kindly to the sentiment.

“Assuming your bisexual partner is cheating is also a stereotype.”

Kenma frowned.

“I’m listening to you I promise, but, I knew you were bi for years and didn’t think you were cheating until things got bad between us.”

Kuroo couldn’t tell where the conversation needed to go from there. He had some options in mind and as much as he both wanted to work things through, and possibly make Kenma sweat a bit, he didn’t want to make things worse than they needed to be.

“And why and when did you start feeling that way?” Kuroo asked, trying to keep his tone neutral, “What was the cause?”

“Okay, Doc Kuroo,” Kenma said.

Kuroo could tell it was meant to be a joke, but Kenma’s nervous delivery fell flat.

“Sorry, therapy has ruined me,” Kuroo said with the smallest of laughs.

“So this one is about me and my faults,” Kenma said, nodding to himself, “And I understand the person I am. I do.”

The silence hung between them.

“Okay,” Kuroo said, the end of the word hanging.

“And yeah, a lot of it was me and my insecurity. You were my only person, you know? And that wasn’t healthy, especially since it wasn’t like you were just my only friend. I was so dependent on you that I couldn’t be alone and when you stopped always being there, I felt so empty because I was dependent on filling that space with you.”

Kuroo’s stomach turned, imagining a Kenma finally facing himself to find nothing there, to find the large part of him filled with Kuroo to be empty. Sure, it was largely Kenma’s fault, but Kuroo had experienced facing himself alone and knew how hard that was. At least he was truly alone, not like Kenma who shouldn’t have been alone but felt that way anyway.

“You felt like I was the only one who could lo-“ Kuroo paused, carefully considering his phrasing, “You thought I was all you had.”

Kuroo watched Kenma tense up.

“You were right the first time,” Kenma said, glancing down at his cards, “I believed that you were the only person alive who could possibly love me.”

Kenma’s insecurity was nothing new but this was an unprecedented level of raw.

“You’re- you’re- Kenma, you’re incredible, and I don’t even mean that as someone who lo- is dating you. Everyone knows it,” Kuroo said, “Everyone can see how smart you are, how passionate, how funny. There’s just that thing about you that nobody has, you know?”

“I don’t wanna hear that,” Kenma said.

Kuroo wondered if it was the content or the messenger that Kenma was uncomfortable with. Perhaps it was a combination of both.

“So what do you want to hear then?”

“I’m going to say something that’s going to hurt you,” Kenma said.

Kuroo would rather talk about Kenma’s faults, but he was mature enough to know he had no real choice.

“Okay.”

Kuroo prepared for impact.

“I thought you were the only person who could ever love me, which was a problem obviously, but worse because you didn’t even act like you did. You were my only option and it felt like even you didn’t want me.”

He wanted to tell Kenma that it wasn’t true, that he always steadfastly loved him, always saw Kenma for the incredible man he was, but it wasn’t true. Near the end, he hardly payed Kenma any mind at all except to be uncomfortable in his presence.

“You deserved better.”

It was honest and a way for him to skirt around admitting it out loud.

“I was holding you down way too much, and you were staying too far away,” Kenma said, “My endless insecurity and your coldness. It’s a wonder we made it that long.”

Kenma wasn’t wrong. It was a perfectly fatal combination, a terrible tragedy.

“Oh, yeah. Got it,” Kuroo said, nodding slowly, “We actually both equally and oppositely sucked.”

“Mhm,” Kenma said, tossing another card on the pile.

It wasn’t a great play. Kenma clearly wasn’t paying attention to the game.

“So, no biphobia,” Kuroo said, “Just bone deep dysfunction.”

Kenma pressed his hand into his forehead.

“Yeah.”

“So, looks like our one problem to talk about just became two,” Kuroo said, scratching the back of his neck, “Wanna work on those now or do you wanna save it for a different time? I know that’s closer to the crux than you probably wanted.”

Kenma suddenly looked exhausted, his eyes dark.

“Neither,” Kenma said.

“We gotta at some point,” Kuroo said, keeping his tone soft. He was a bit annoyed, not that he’d show it.

“Fuck,” Kenma said, quietly.

Kenma squeezed his eyes shut and abruptly set his cards down before getting up.

“Hey, you good?” Kuroo asked.

Kenma took long strides towards the door.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, his voice strained.

Nerves shot through Kuroo. His heart beat down to his finger tips. He stared at the cards in his shaking hands. He didn’t want Kenma to be upset. He also didn’t want to be the cause of that upset.

Hurting Kenma hurt himself, more than he anticipated, more than it ever had before.

He focused on his breathing, stopping himself from getting up and finding Kenma. Kenma needed his space. 

Kuroo tried not to roll his eyes. Kenma was overreacting. Again. 

”Kenma, don’t you think you’re worried about this for no reason?” Kuroo asked, reaching for Kenma’s shoulder. 

Kenma jerked away from his touch, gracefully ducking past him. 

“Just fuck off,” his congested voice came. 

“Come on,” Kuroo said, turning back towards him, “Talk to me.”

“I don’t want to cry in front of you. Just leave me the fuck alone!”

The minutes stretched on, but Kuroo found himself steadying as each one passed. He didn’t have to know how to handle everything. All he had to know was that he and Kenma would figure it out. They would. He was sure of it. 

Just as he pulled his phone out, Kenma walked back into the room. Kuroo looked up at him to see that his eyes were red and his hands were shaking. 

“Oh, Kenma,” Kuroo said, getting up immediately. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry,” Kenma said, “I just-“

He dropped his glance to the floor and wrung his hands in front of his stomach. 

“Hey,” Kuroo said, “Hey now.”

He quickly crossed the room and after only a second of hesitation wrapped his arms around Kenma, squeezing him tight. He waited silently, giving Kenma the space to respond when he was ready. 

“I know it’s stupid and unfair and my fault but I don’t want this all to feel so horrible and have us talk about all this horrible stuff even though it was my idea and I need it to happen,” Kenma said, shaking a bit. 

“It’s okay,” Kuroo said, and he meant it, “It’s not going to be easy, but it’ll be okay.”

“I’m just afraid if that this is what our probation is going to be that it’s just going to be hard and it’s going to fail because it’ll suck.”

Kuroo genuinely hadn’t considered that. It helped remind him just how much Kenma overthought things. 

“I mean, the point of this was to work through some things and date,” Kuroo said, gently rocking Kenma side to side, “So we worked through some things today. Why don’t we do a date tomorrow? It doesn’t have to be all bad. Does that sound okay? We can make sure to mix the bad with the good.”

Kenma nodded into his chest. 

“Mhm.”

It was a tiny little noise but Kuroo felt it vibrate against him. 

“I’ll plan something,” Kuroo said. 

He hesitated for a moment before pressing his lips to Kenma’s forehead. 

“No,” Kenma said, pushing Kuroo away a little bit, “I’ll plan it.”

“I am happy to-“

“I need to do it,” Kenma said, “Please?”

He looked up at Kuroo with so much vulnerability that Kuroo felt his own rising up. 

“Sure, of course. I’m down for anything as long as it’s with you.”

Chapter Text

“You about ready to go?” Kenma asked.

He walked out from his bedroom, buttoning the sleeves of a silk lavender dress shirt with a grey designer tie tied loosely around his neck. It was slim cut, hugging his soft muscles perfectly.

“That new?” Kuroo asked, swallowing.

“Nah, I’ve had it for a bit now,” Kenma said, “I don’t wear it to work though so that’s probably why you never see it.”

Kenma had dress clothes just for dates or fancy events that weren’t also used for work? It was so unfair. Damn him.

Kuroo stood up and stretched. He yawned as he followed the source of the nervous rustling. It had been a noise he’d become accustomed to, and even though he was exhausted with life, he knew he needed to check it out.

“What’s going on, sweetheart?” he asked as he entered the front room.

Kenma looked up at him from where he was sitting amidst the ugly cushions he’d thrown about the floor.

“Nothing,” Kenma said, panicking.

“Love, what’s up?”

Kuroo walked slowly towards him, sitting on the floor across from him.

“It’s nothing,” Kenma said, turning his face away, but not before Kuroo could get a glimpse of the redness under his eyes.

“It’s not nothing,” Kuroo said.

Tiredness pulled at his eyelids. He loved Kenma but dealing with a panic episode wasn’t on the list of things he wanted to do after a long day.

“It is nothing.”

“Tell me, Ken,” Kuroo said, “It’s not nothing, but we can work to turn it into nothing.”

Kenma flinched and took a moment to gather himself.

“My paycheck at the cafe is delayed a few days because of the holiday but I’m looking for some cash,” Kenma said, “I was invited to a conference this weekend, but it’s three days and I only have one dress shirt and I don’t know what to do. I can’t rewear the same one three times in a row.”

A tear slid down his face and Kuroo’s chest ached.

“It’s fine. I’ll buy you one,” Kuroo said, “I worked overtime last week so I can afford it.”

It wasn’t true. He made a mental note to beg his boss for some overtime. His credit cards were already close to being maxed out.

“Are you sure?” Kenma asked.

His expression shook Kuroo.

“Of course. The money is already in my account.”

“What?” Kenma asked, tightening his tie.

Kuroo swallowed again, but his throat was still dry as he dragged his eyes away from Kenma’s biceps.

“It’s a good color on you. That’s all.”

“Both it is,” Kenma said.

“We definitely don’t need both,” Kuroo said, eyeing the prices once more.

He wasn’t strapped for cash by any means, but he didn’t exactly have ‘both’ money, especially if it became a ‘both’ habit which he had the sneaking suspicion it might. One bite of Kenma’s was more than reasonable. The meal was incredibly decadent in taste and cost in its own right.

“Mm, but you love tiramisu,” Kenma said.

“True-“

“And I love crepe cake,” Kenma continued, trying to flag over their waitress, “Do I not?”

“Also true, but,” Kuroo said, trailing off.

It made sense in his head, but it felt rather awkward to say out loud. How was he supposed to finish that sentence?

Kenma squinted at him, mouthing ‘but what?’ to himself. Kuroo watched the realization dawn on Kenma’s face.

“Oh, sorry,” Kenma said, “I’ve got the check. No biggie.”

It was what Kuroo probably needed to hear- it did take an immediate weight off his chest- but it felt uncomfortable at the same time. Couples paid for each other’s meals. That was normal. The two of them at one point had even shared finances entirely, but for some reason, Kenma paying for the date bothered Kuroo.

He didn’t have enough time to think through it before the waitress came back and Kenma excitedly ordered both desserts.

“So anyway,” Kenma said as soon as she left ear shot, “I was looking through a certain client file, and I noticed that they’ve not been terribly forthcoming with some things my team requested. You wouldn’t know anything about that. Would you?”

Kuroo didn’t realize that the JVA hadn’t been in continuous contact with Bouncing Ball. They were actively working on something and it was the buzz of the office. Plus, the JVA really needed that Bouncing Ball money.

A new project? The JVA rarely had new projects. It was more likely that they canceled existing ones.

“So, we teamed up with a game development company, and they want to make a game featuring the current V-league teams. Apparently most sports have this type of game and they sell well, so the company asked if we could provide them a database of information and in turn they pay us quite a large flat fee and then a portion of profit once it comes out,” his boss explained.

Kuroo’s stomach turned.

“What company?” he asked, his mouth filling with saliva.

“Bouncing Ball Gaming,” the man said, “But I don’t think they know much about the business side of things. They specified they wanted the work for this to be seperate from Sports Promotion, but I’m putting your team on it anyway.”

That request had nothing to do with the CEO’s knowledge of business- not that he’d tell his boss that.

“Who do we report to?”

“I don’t remember. Some young woman with green hair,” he said, “She seems nice enough, though.”

Relief flooded Kuroo’s chest. He was angry that Kenma would do this, knowing damn well that Kuroo worked at the JVA, but he at least had the common decency to avoid Kuroo. Though, the implication that they couldn’t have a professional relationship seemed condescending.

Whatever.

“Sounds good,” Kuroo said, “Wanna come full brief at our all team meeting this afternoon?”  

“Technically I can’t tell you this,” Kuroo said, making it clear in his tone that refusing to tell Kenma wouldn’t even be a remote consideration, “But we’re putting something together for your dev team. We have a statistician out on maternity leave, so it’s slow going but it is happening.”

“Oh my god, y’all have an actual statistical team on this and not just some teenage intern?”

Kuroo smiled at Kenma as he said it, a deep genuine smile.

“I even asked them to add streak data,” Kuroo said, “I know you’ve been dead set on trying to program slumps and bounce-backs into games lately.”

Kuroo was excited to talk more about it, but the waitress came by, setting the desserts in front of them, managing to correctly guess whose was whose.

“Oh, that was really quick!” Kenma said, excitedly grabbing the spoon.

“Yes, sir,” she said, “We decided to move you to the front of the line.”

Kenma paused and Kuroo looked at him, confused.

“Oh gosh, you really didn’t have to,” Kenma said.

“I, uh, didn’t recognize you so I didn’t get your dinner out as quick as I should have. I could also have called it in as a V-“

“I promise it isn’t a big deal,” Kenma said, “Please do not worry about it.”

Kuroo stayed quiet during the exchange, awkwardly waiting for it to be over. He wanted to start eating but that felt rude. Thankfully, the conversation didn’t last much longer and the waitress left to attend to a different table.

“Ready to dig in?” Kuroo asked.

“Fuck yeah,” Kenma said.

They both quickly took a bite and Kuroo immediately fell in love with the tiramisu. It was excellent, even more than the usual excellence of a run of the mill tiramisu.

“This is incredible. How’s yours?” Kuroo asked through another bite.

“Here,” Kenma said, spooning a bite and holding it out to Kuroo, “Try it.”

Kuroo leaned forward, taking the bite, chewing slowly before swallowing. It felt like so much more than it was. It was just a bit of crepe cake on a spoon, and sharing desserts was an old habit of theirs, but the way Kenma was looking at him made him blush.

“It’s good, isn’t it,” Kenma said, rather than asked.

There was something oddly commanding in his tone. Kuroo wasn’t quite sure why Kenma was asserting dominance over dessert, but it was working.

“Mhm,” Kuroo hummed, his voice breaking.

Kenma moved quickly, one hand grasping Kuroo’s shirt and the other his tie as he backed into the external wall of some store, pulling Kuroo with him. Kuroo had a moment of panic which was interrupted by him noticing how strong Kenma was, and how hot that happened to be. Clearly Kenma’s workout routine was working for him.

Kuroo’s hands moved on their own, one settling on Kenma’s hip and the other grabbing Kenma’s hand from his tie and pressing it into the wall by his shoulder. Their faces were close, and Kenma’s smoldering eyes and tiny smile shot a thrill through Kuroo’s stomach.

Kuroo walked into the bedroom, entirely nude, with little Kuroo already a little excited. Kenma looked up at him and blushed.

”Hey, what are you up to?” Kenma asked.

“What do you think?” Kuroo asked, gesturing down at his lack of clothing.

“Oh. Do you, uh, wanna, uh, like bang or something right now?” Kenma asked, averting his eyes.

Kuroo sighed.

“If you aren’t interested right now we obviously don’t have to, but I mean, what do you think I’m trying to indicate to you with my entire dick out?”

“No, uh, I am interested. I was kinda hoping we would today.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Kuroo asked.

“Didn’t know how. Feels weird.”

Kuroo sighed again.

“We’ve been dating for three damn years.”

As Kenma slowly leaned in to close the very little distance between them, Kuroo remembered why he was supposed to be panicking, and then consequently started panicking.

He moved his hands to Kenma’s shoulders, pushing him back fully against the wall to create space between them.

“Jeez,” Kenma said, awkwardly throwing his now free hands up in surrender, “I thought you liked me aggressive.”

Kuroo paused for a moment and let his hands drop from Kenma’s shoulders.

Kuroo yawned, closing the door behind him. He stripped his jacket off and tossed it onto the couch.

“Kenma?” Kuroo called, expecting him to be in the office but not finding him.

Maybe he was taking a post-class nap in the bedroom. Kuroo walked over and gently cracked open the door.

His mouth fell open when he saw Kenma.

“Oh my god.”

Kenma had tied himself up, rope under his knees pulling up and spreading his thighs. Kuroo’s eyes dragged up to Kenma’s blindfolded eyes and handcuffed wrists.

Kuroo immediately started fumbling at his belt.

“Oh my god. Kenma.”

“Oh, I do,” Kuroo said, slowly taking a step back, “Don’t get me wrong.”

“Then kiss me, you idiot.”

Kenma’s pouty eyes were enough to let Kuroo know that Kenma knew what was going on, but he figured he’d say it anyway.

“I’m not going to kiss you until we aren’t on probation,” Kuroo said, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

He watched Kenma relax his posture as if he’d already given up.

“People who are casually dating do tend to kiss, you know,” Kenma pointed out.

Kuroo had to fight off the strong temptation to give in to Kenma. He wanted to put his lips on Kenma’s. Painfully so.

“Indeed, but not us.”

“I really don’t see why not,” Kenma said, using the tone he usually reserved for flirting.

He watched as Kenma tucked his hair behind his ears, looking up at him expectantly.

“Because I said so,” Kuroo said.

“And why is that?”

Kuroo took a slow breath in and out through his nose.

“Because as much as this would be a really good kiss, I don’t want it if there’s even a chance that it’ll be the last one we share.”

It was hard to wrench his eyes back to looking into Kenma’s, but he was able to get there by the end of his sentence.

“It won’t be,” Kenma said, his insecurity from the night before written clearly across his face, “You know that right?”

“I know,” Kuroo said, “But I don’t want to risk it, but I also know it’s not really a risk.”

Kuroo watched the concern drop from Kenma’s face.

“Good, that’s good,” Kenma said, “But in that case I don’t get what the issue is?”

“The issue is that it’ll mean something and I’m just not ready yet.”

He wished Kenma would drop it. His composure was rapidly falling apart.

“We just kissed the other day,” Kenma pointed out, “What is the difference?”

“The difference is now we are on probation.”

Kuroo noticed Kenma’s change of expression and knew he was about to enter persuasion mode.

“It's just a kiss. Well, the last one was a really good kiss not just a kiss. But you know what I mean. A kiss is a kiss. It’s not like we’re going to bang right now,” Kenma pointed out, “Well, I mean we could. I’m not opposed. I do not fear my therapist. She taught me not to be afraid of people, though I’m generally still not good at that, but I’m not really afraid of her anymore at least, mostly. I suppose I don’t want to be arrested for having sex in public, but I’m due for a scandal any day now. And I guess it could be worse.”

The desperate rambling was doing something for Kuroo. He thought for a moment before strengthening his resolve.

He gently caressed Kenma’s cheek.

“You can kiss me when we’re official,” Kuroo said, “No sooner and hopefully not a second later.”

“Or, hear me out, we just had a really nice date, so we kiss about it now, and then we pretend it didn’t happen? Nobody needs to know.”

A tiny undercurrent of annoyance flitted through Kuroo’s chest, but he dismissed it easily.

“Oh? Mr. Firm Take It Or Leave It Boundaries isn’t interested in respecting a boundary I’ve decided to clearly explain for both of our own goods?”

He said it as a joke to soften his point, but he did mean it. Kenma’s previous embargo on discussing their entire relationship was a much more restrictive boundary than this one. It seemed the tiniest bit hypocritical.

“Damn, I can’t believe my actions have consequences,” Kenma said.

He crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall. Kuroo mirrored his posture and raised an eyebrow, staring Kenma down. It was funny for a second before he watched panic appear in Kenma’s eyes.

“Stop internally freaking,” Kuroo said, “I’m messing with you.”

“So, I can kiss you?” Kenma asked, already grabbing at Kuroo’s shirt again, leaning up.

“Absolutely not,” Kuroo said with a laugh.

He pulled Kenma forward and wrapped his arms around him, squeezing him tight. He smiled, just the tiniest bit, at Kenma’s contented sigh.

Kuroo wasn’t oblivious. He noticed that at the end of every episode of the stupid comedy show Kenma insisted on them watching that Kenma’s hand moved just the slightest bit closer to Kuroo’s. Beyond the cue of the striped fabric of the couch, Kenma was leaning on his hand, so his entire body moved every time he moved his hand, angling himself a bit oddly.

“You’re an idiot,” Kuroo finally said.

He set his soju on the side table.

“What?” Kenma asked, retreating his hand slightly.

“You know what,” Kuroo said, gesturing to the hand.

“Okay, fine, my bad.”

Kenma sat up, folded his hands in his lap and made a show of looking back at the screen.

“Really?” Kuroo asked, amusement tinging his tone.

“This- you make me nervous, okay?”

Kuroo’s humor at Kenma’s behavior quickly plummeted into shame. He didn’t want Kenma to be afraid of this, to be afraid of him. Kuroo knew that a little bit of fear was unfortunately fair for Kenma to feel, especially since they seemed to be getting closer by the moment, but the fairness didn’t make it hurt any less.

Maybe he didn’t handle the whole kiss thing super well. Maybe he needed to be clearer in what he wanted. Maybe he was messing this all up with his own confusion and the newness of the situation.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo said, “I guess I never really said specifically what is cool and what isn’t. I’m not like gonna be mad if we, I don’t know, like cuddle or something. I’m not trying to be the affection police. Cuddling is fine. I just don’t want to-“

Everything had been going well enough between them, like they were both firmly on the same side. It had been so easy to forget the times when they weren’t on the same side, but now that reminder was staring him in the face.

“Oh my god,” Kenma said, covering his face, “I know it’s fine. That’s not why. I’m not nervous about what you’re gonna say. I know it’s fine.”

Kuroo squinted at Kenma. What was he talking about?

“I know I deserve your hesitancy. I sucked a ton,” Kuroo said, “But I don’t want you to be scared of me. I’m really not like that anymore. I mean, I still kind of suck sometimes, but I’m not trying to hurt you anymore. I don’t know if I even could force myself to be that way if I tried.”

Kuroo watched Kenma, who was still looking pointedly at the show, take a deep breath in and out.

“You’re not getting it. I’m not scared of you. You have me all jittery. Scrambled my brain eggs. You know? The almost kiss was like all of my bravery for the year all at once and now I’m out. So, yeah. I’m done for.”

Kuroo’s heart started to pound.

Kenma must have really gotten over him after they’d broken up. Kuroo loved Kenma, but in a calm way because he fell back in love after Kenma was gone, but Kenma? Kenma was nervous like this was something entirely new. The realization shattered over his head.

“Oh my god,” Kuroo said, quietly, “Come here.”

“Cool, uh, yeah,” Kenma said, scooting himself into the empty cushion between them, awkwardly pressing their arms together.

How was Kenma strong and assertive, but so innocently adorable?

“Mm, not close enough I think,” Kuroo said.

He laughed gently and grabbed Kenma, moving slowly enough that Kenma could easily stop him if he wanted.

He didn’t.

“Oh,” Kenma said, letting Kuroo essentially lift him straight onto his lap, “Oh.”

Kuroo grinned, not that Kenma could see him do it. He was mostly just happy to be in such close proximity, but he was admittedly also proud that he could lift Kenma so easily. Kenma had definitely put on muscle weight since the last time Kuroo had picked him up but it wasn’t an issue in the slightest. He slid that fact into the back of his mind for future use.

“Lift your arms,” Kuroo said.

Kenma complied and Kuroo wrapped his arms around Kenma’s chest. He could feel Kenma’s breath quicken, but then he relaxed, leaning back against Kuroo’s chest. Kenma gently rested his arms on Kuroo’s. For a moment, everything in his life felt okay. Kenma was in his arms and everything was okay.

Kuroo took a deep breath and smiled once more as Kenma wiggled a bit to adjust his position. Kuroo focused all of his remaining energy into not popping a boner.

“Yeah, it’s exactly what we’re talking about, not that I want to,” Kenma said, still visibly nervous.

Kenma tossed his cards down on the table, revealing them and effectively forcing the two of them to have to reshuffle if they wanted to play the rest of the hand.

“So we’re back here again,” Kuroo said, “To the me who distances and the you who can’t let go.”

As he said it, an inane thought popped into his brain. He’d just spent a half hour playing perfectly, slightly edging Kenma out, but now as the conversation escalated they were probably going to just drop the game. Kuroo’s wins at cards against Kenma were rare and clearly there were more important things on his mind, but it was a waste of a good start regardless.

“I mean,” Kenma said, his lips wobbling as he spoke, “It all comes down to that, you know? Like what is all of this for? Why have these awkward talks and all of that therapy and all of this me pretending to be a man that I’m not and really just really forcing myself to believe that it’s going to work out this time when it probably won’t.”

All thoughts about the score of the game fell from Kuroo’s mind. Everything fell out of his mind.

“You- you don’t think it’s going to work out this time?”

Ice shot through his chest as he watched Kenma finally start to cry. Kuroo knew it was coming; Kenma’s facade wasn’t nearly strong enough at the beginning of their conversation to withstand the discussion escalating.

“I mean, how could I?” Kenma asked, wiping his tears with his sleeves.

What happened to Kenma’s bravado from when they were outside of the restaurant? Was it a front? Was Kenma having those thoughts as he sat in Kuroo’s lap? Clearly banning the kiss had been the right decision after all if Kenma was thinking that way.

“Um, I don’t understand,” Kuroo said, slowly, “Just the other day you said-“

“You didn’t kiss me-“

“Kenma,” Kuroo said, suddenly feeling heavy, “You have to respect that boundary and not read into it. I mean it’s the one thing I’ve really asked this whole time. I need-“

“It wasn’t the boundary,” Kenma said, “After I went home and laid in bed, I just kept thinking over and over again that maybe this is all just a brief upward climb before it all crashes down around me. It’s too much work for it to be worth it in its own right. I mean I like you a lot, but all of this for it to burn again? I can’t handle that. I can’t survive that.”

Kuroo felt a familiar lump form at the back of his throat. He would either yell it out or let it take his voice. He wondered how Kenma got so good at talking through his tears.

“I understand that this is hard,” Kuroo said, his voice choppy, “But it’s going to be okay. It’s going to be hard sometimes, but it’s going to be okay.”

“And you’re not going to leave when it gets hard? You’re not going to fall out of love with me? You’re not going to leave me? To decide I’m not worth it?”

Kenma didn’t even seem to notice his own tears. He didn’t wipe them or blink the steady stream away. They just slid down his face and onto his shirt.

“I won’t,” Kuroo said, squeezing his hands together.

“You don’t know that,” Kenma said.

“I do.”

Kuroo tried his best to sound as confident and clear as possible, but the conversation was getting to him. The devastation began to set in. The helplessness of knowing he couldn’t fix it sat heavy in his stomach. He knew that nothing he could say would be able to change Kenma’s mind. He didn’t have a valid argument.

He didn’t want to flee the conversation. For once in his damn life he didn’t want to fight. All he could fathom was to sit there and take it.

“Stop, please stop,” Kuroo said, looking over at his sister.

“Mind your own business or you’ll be minding something else,” his father said, sneering at him.

Kuroo knew what that meant, but he couldn’t let it go that easily.

“But, Dad-“

“Fuck off to your room,” his mother said, “If we want your useless opinion on adult topics, we will ask you.”

Kuroo’s hand shook as he grabbed his sister by the elbow.

“Let’s go play with your dolls,” he whispered.

“Son of mine playing dolls,” Kuroo heard his father grumble.

He didn’t hesitate for a second, dragging his sister into their room.

Kuroo’s eyes flitted to the damp collar of Kenma’s shirt. He yearned to wrap his arms around Kenma and tell him it was going to be okay. But was it?

“You can’t know it. That’s the thing,” Kenma said, “There’s no way you could possibly know. A year ago, did you ever guess you’d go to therapy? Did you ever guess I’d be a millionaire?”

No. He didn’t guess- not even as a fantasy- but Kuroo’s inability to guess inherently necessitated someone else’s powerlessness.

“And you?” Kuroo asked, his words cloudy, “And you won’t give up on me? You won’t fall out of love with me?”

Kuroo watched Kenma swallow and knew he was about to be hit with something.

“Well, I wasn’t the one who gave up in the first place.”

The impact was immediate and undeniable. Any semblance of togetherness Kuroo was able to maintain crumbled, leaving his brokenness exposed.

He started to truly sob for the first time in a long while, his muscles feeling weak as he braced himself on the table. Would he ever be able to forgive himself? Would Kenma ever be able to forgive him?

He heard Kenma talking to him and he felt Kenma’s arms around him, but those things felt so distant from his brain. He couldn’t process the what or the where. All he could do was cry about who he was and how there was no way he could promise to be better in a way that mattered.

“And it just sort of ended without any real resolution. We went in circles forever before we both just said that we wouldn’t fall out of love, but I don’t think we really resolved anything,” Kuroo finished.

“So did you mean it?”

Kuroo looked at his therapist for a moment before answering.

“I can’t tell you why, but yeah, I won’t. I know that,” Kuroo said, “I know how dumb I was to do it, so it won’t happen again.”

Again, it was an assertion he had no evidence except a strong conviction for.

“It’s not something you can control, really, and most couples at some point lose that initial infatuation phase. As a matter of fact, it’s almost impossible not to, but that’s okay. What matters is that you have the commitment to find it again. You have the commitment for the other person, to love them, and to be with them even if everything isn’t all romance all of the time.”

Kuroo wanted to fight off the assertion that they would lose the infatuation but he didn’t have much room to talk. He wasn’t a therapist and he certainly didn’t have personal evidence he could use on the contrary.

“Yeah, gotcha, so it’s something I have to learn at some point,” Kuroo said, “I guess sooner the better.”

“Now is as good a time as any. Why don’t you think about putting something together? Obviously you don’t want to break any of your, uh, interesting rules for your relationship that you’re operating under, but you might want to practice now while it’s forcibly casual.”

There was a moment of silence between them. Saying he could and should put something together was one thing. Actually pulling off something worthy of Kenma was another.

“I know it’s dumb but I can’t give Kenma what Kenma can give me,” Kuroo said, “Kenma buys me fancy things, regularly has me in his fancy house, and buys dinners more expensive than I can fathom regularly paying for.”

“Hmm.”

“Hmm?” Kuroo prompted, “I mean, I’m not poor or anything, it’s just I can’t drop money without a second thought like Kenma does.”

His therapist smiled, just the tiniest bit as if he was particularly proud of what he was about to say.

“But does he want you to?”

Kuroo looked across the couch at Kenma. They sat facing each other, backs to the arm rests, legs stacked upon each other.

”This kinda sucks,” Kuroo admitted, “I know you like celebrating things.”

It wasn’t the most exciting anniversary they’d had, but the bills were piling up. They could hardly afford to take the day off of work, lest actually do something fun.

“What are you talking about?” Kenma asked, setting his microwaved lava cake on the coffee table, “This is a blast.”

Kuroo set a hand on Kenma’s ankle.

“It’s just frozen desserts and wine.”

“And you and our ungodly couch.”

Kenma said it as if those two things were particularly exciting. Kuroo didn’t agree.

“And what about this garbage couch do you like?”

Kenma responded, saying something too quiet for Kuroo to hear.

“Huh?” Kuroo prompted, gently rubbing his fingers up Kenma’s leg.

Kenma looked away.

“I said I like that I can bend you over it,” he said, hardly louder than a whisper.

“You’re right,” Kuroo murmured, “He doesn’t.”

Kuroo was at Kenma’s front door uninvited. Kenma had told him he could come over whenever and he didn’t have to ask, but Kuroo never took him up on the offer. He always asked in advance- or at the very least warned with a heavy implication that Kenma could veto- but not that day: Kuroo was on a mission, a secret mission.

He set the tote bags on the porch, quietly as if Kenma would be able to hear him from all the way inside. He very quickly typed in the door code, frowning when it denied him entrance. He tried again and it let him in.

He smiled, grabbed his bags, and carefully walked in the door. He made sure to close it silently and slipped his shoes off.

He slowly made his way to the kitchen and started unpacking his bags. With each one, he carefully placed it on the counter, not letting anything clink or crunch. He put his ear buds in so he could listen to some music while he started to make dinner.

He turned around to preheat the oven and was startled to see Kenma walking towards him.

Kenma was holding his open laptop in one arm and clicking through it with his other hand. Kuroo quickly paused his music.

“I didn’t know you were coming,” Kenma said, “Which is fine obviously. I just didn’t know or I’d be more ready.”

“How did you hear me?” Kuroo asked.

He had tried so hard to be sneaky. This was supposed to be a surprise.

Kenma snorted.

“My code box has a camera on it that sends a notification with a video if someone messes up the code,” Kenma explained, “So I got the joy of watching you pretend to be a spy.”

“Well, okay then, but I’m not the one with all the fancy spying equipment. Am I now?”

“Be glad I didn’t send for the police,” Kenma said, glancing down at his screen.

“But I want to be a fun surprise sometimes,” Kuroo said, effectively pouting, “I’m here to make dinner for you.”

“Then type the code in correctly next time,” Kenma said, flashing him a smile, “But anyway. Give me ten minutes and I’ll be back.”

“Nah,” Kuroo said, tying his apron much tighter than necessary, “I’m sure you’re busy. I’ll cook and bring you some.”

“Eh, my reports can wait,” Kenma said with a smile, “Let me just close out my meeting and update my list.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at him.

“What else were you planning on doing today?”

“I have to edit and approve the new proposed disability equity and youth interaction programs, but it’s fine. I’ll do them in the morning,” he said, already turning around to go back into his room.

“And you’re not doing that tonight?” Kuroo asked.

Kenma stopped his movement.

“Nope,” he said, not turning around.

“And you were supposed to have them done tonight? Well, planning on having them done tonight?” Kuroo asked, crossing his arms.

“Correct,” Kenma said with a wave, “Be back in a few.”

Kuroo just stood there for a moment, dumbfounded.

After a bit he snapped out of it and turned back around to start prepping his ingredients. Maybe he could successfully make the entire dinner within ten minutes and still surprise Kenma (despite the recipe calling for fifty and Kenma not being dumb enough to not know what he was making).

He clicked his music back on and started washing the produce, making sure it was all good to go. He then dried his hands and took out a cutting board where he focused intently on making perfectly even cuts. He didn’t need to be calmer than he was, but the repetitive motion calmed him regardless. Now that Kenma knew he was around, he didn’t have to be quiet anymore. He enjoyed the chopping noises bleeding through the music in his headphones.

Kuroo went to grab a mixing bowl and realized that he didn’t actually know where they were. It was a stark reminder to him that this wasn’t their house. It was Kenma’s house. He knew where cups, plates, and silverware were, like a repeated house guest would, but not much more. The descriptor of ‘repeated house guest’ wasn’t wrong, but it certainly snapped Kuroo back to remembering that they were starting from the beginning. He would have to learn where all of Kenma’s kitchen implements were.

“Hey,” Kenma’s voice broke through Kuroo’s headphones, startling him once more.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, turning around.

In an unsurprising turn of events, he hadn’t been able to finish the recipe before Kenma finished his meeting.

“Lemme steal these,” Kenma said, gesturing to his ears.

Kuroo gulped and held his breath as Kenma’s hands brushed against his hair. The last time Kenma’s hands were that close to his face, they had kissed. Once he unfroze his lungs, he wordlessly handed Kenma the case to the ear buds. Kenma placed the buds in the case and pulled out his own phone. Shortly after, music started to play and Kuroo recognized the playlist.

Kuroo didn’t even need to hear the first note of the song to know what it was. Kenma’s questionable singing voice was immediately on it.

He did some silly choreography and pointed to Kuroo expectantly.

Kuroo did his own. He thought it was a somewhat respectable try and relished in Kenma’s smile

Kenma did an oddly graceful spin as he sang before overbalancing and throwing his hands out to catch himself on the counter.

“Still got it,” Kuroo said.

It almost felt like an act they were both putting on, acting out a happy moment from their past while ignoring most of the rest of it, and not even just the distant memories- their most recent discussion.

“Never lost it,” Kenma replied, a break in the singing.

Kuroo was almost scared by the prospect of cooking with Kenma again. Many of their intimate moments (emotional and otherwise) were in the kitchen, so the act of cooking together felt so domestic, so deep. It felt impossible to separate that intimacy, the kisses, the hands, and the deep lovey conversations from the action. That’s why Kuroo wanted to cook for Kenma as a surprise; he didn’t know if he could handle cooking side by side without slipping into their old patterns.

But maybe, they could fall into an even older one. They’d been cooking together long before they even considered dating after all.

“I don’t mind waiting,” Kuroo said.

It was true. It wasn’t like anyone was home anyway. His options were wait for Kenma or sit alone anyway, “He’s in the kitchen then?”

“Indeed,” Mama Kozume responded.

Kuroo nodded at her and made his way to the kitchen.

“I heard you’re cooking tonight,” Kuroo said, looking at the mess of ingredients on the counter.

“Yeah, Mom wants to make sure my future wife isn’t stuck doing all of the cooking,” Kenma said.

Kuroo noticed something about his expression that was meant to convey some hidden message, but he couldn’t quite tell what it was.

“Can I help?” Kuroo asked.

“Hmm, it will help me finish sooner so we can actually do something fun,” Kenma said before pointing at a large bowl, “Mix.”

Kuroo couldn’t care less about how long it took them. He had no idea how to cook beyond ‘fend for yourself nights’ where he would grab whatever canned goods had a pull tab and eat the contents cold. He could also make a cheese sandwich and microwave it so the cheese got kinda melty, but that was about it.

“Sure, so we can finish faster,” Kuroo said, “Where’s the recipe?”

“How’s this?” Kuroo asked, shakily handing Kenma a spoon.

It was hard to ignore the toil from the night before. Phrases from their conversation kept stabbing at him as they worked. Kenma was fine, or at least his face indicated such. Kuroo bounced back and forth between wanting to squeeze Kenma tight, wanting to ask him about the fallout of their talk, and wanting to walk out of the house.

“Mm, yeah, good, but maybe an extra bit of sesame oil?” Kenma said.

Kuroo bit back the instinct of telling Kenma that he could read and carefully measured the sesame oil, so the amount of sesame oil wasn’t the problem with the sauce. Despite really wanting to, he recognized that it would be generally unhelpful and likely ruin the mood.

Kenma stopped scream singing into the spatula like it was a microphone.

“Come join!” he said, pointing it at Kuroo.

Kuroo glanced down at his phone. His friends wanted to play some sort of game online. Surely Kenma had played it before, but he didn’t really want Kenma to ask to play so he didn’t mention it.

“I think you can handle this on your own,” Kuroo said, walking towards the bedroom, “Let me know when you’re done. I’ll come eat with you.”

Why didn’t he appreciate those moments? Those little opportunities to be present would have made all of the difference, but he ignored them. It was his fault. He didn’t appreciate Kenma. He didn’t appreciate the time they spent together.

Kuroo swallowed. By getting stuck in his head, he was doing the exact same thing all over again. He focused on shutting up his brain and opening up his mouth to sing. He would be in the moment together with Kenma. It was something they both deserved.

Kuroo tipped some more sesame oil into the sauce, stirring it once before trying some.

“Oh, that made all of the difference,” Kuroo said, smiling at Kenma, “How is your palate so damn good?”

Kenma slid his hand around Kuroo’s waist and it took him everything not to jump. Then it took him everything not to pick Kenma up and sit him on the counter so they could-

“It’s not my fault that I’m overpowered,” Kenma said, bumping his hip into Kuroo’s.

Kuroo took a sip of his beer as he tried to read Kenma’s expression.

“And just like that, it’s fine?” Kuroo asked.

“Mhm,” Kenma said, dunking a gyoza into the sauce he helped Kuroo perfect, “And just like that it’s fine.”

“And you just believe me now? You just believe that I won’t fall out of love with you?”

Kenma laughed a tiny laugh.

“Indeed. What do I get out of not believing you?”

“I don’t think that’s how believing works,” Kuroo said, “You believe or you don’t, not because you get anything from the belief.”

Kenma seemed entirely unbothered by the line of questioning as if they were discussing the weather, which wasn’t terribly expected.

“I can tell, you know? I see you,” Kenma said, “I see what you’re doing. I see who you’re becoming. Don’t think I don’t.”

That simple validation eased most of his worries in that moment. Kenma recognized that he was trying. That was all that mattered. Kuroo couldn’t promise a result, but he could promise trying. That also seemed to be what his therapist thought was the correct answer.

“You’ve changed too,” Kuroo said, “I notice it all of-“

“You’re right. I have changed. I’m an optimist now, and that’s why I believe you.”

Kenma laughed once more and held his mocktail up to Kuroo. Kuroo wanted to needle him, force him to accept the compliment, but they had all of the time in the world. They’d get there eventually.

“It’s a good look on you,” Kuroo responded, clinking his beer against Kenma’s glass.

Chapter Text

“Hey, Kuroo Tetsurou checking in for a blood test.”

The receptionist didn’t look up at him. He paused, awkwardly, already nervous about the prospect of getting his blood drawn. It wouldn’t be the first time he had a reaction to it.

“What the hell,” Kenma said, crossing his arms.

“I get home from the hospital and this is the first thing you say to me?”

Kuroo shifted his arms so that his bandaid would peek out from under his sleeve. Maybe Kenma would rethink the attitude.

“You called a friend from work instead of your partner of years to drive you home?” Kenma asked, the initial anger dissolving into sadness.

“Well, I thought you’d be busy.”

In his defense, Kenma did have things he was supposedly doing. He knew his other friend didn’t, so why waste Kenma’s time?

“Why don’t you think I’m capable of helping you? I want to help you. What makes me not good enough?” Kenma asked, the anger creeping back up in his tone.

“Can I help you?” the man asked, finally looking up at him with a raised eyebrow.

Kuroo took a deep breath.

“I’m checking in. Kuroo Tetsurou.”

“Okay,” he said, typing something into the computer, “It looks like I got you here for some routine blood testing. You will be in this waiting room, but first, we have to go over your information. Please confirm your date of birth, phone number, and address.”

“Sure. It’s November-“

“The pin pad,” he said, gesturing at it.

“Okay,” Kuroo said, tapping through the screen. Everything looked fine, “Am I good to sit down now?”

His stomach started to feel queasy. People were about to stab needles into his skin and he just had to sit there and watch as his blood flowed into the plastic tubes. Something about it was terribly upsetting to him.

“Same insurance as your visit in August?”

“Yup.”

Kuroo wondered why that wasn’t on the pin pad, but figured it was probably best not to ask.

“Okay, for your emergency contact I have one Bokuto Koutarou-“

”Hey, not trying to be rude but is all of this necessary? It’s just a flu shot and I’m on my lunch break.”

He had plenty of time but he didn’t want to spend it all at the pharmacy.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the pharmacist said, blandly, “Especially since you noted you’ve had a vaccine reaction before.”

“Mkay,” Kuroo said.

“So, I have Kozume Kenma listed as your emergency contact. His number being-“

“I need to change that to Bokuto Koutarou,” Kuroo said, quickly, “Let me pull up his number.”

The last thing he wanted was for something to happen and the pharmacy to call his ex-boyfriend. What an absolute nightmare that would be.

“Actually, can I have you change that? The name is Kozume Kenma. I know the number whenever you’re ready.”

Kuroo thanked the waitress as she set their food down. Upon hearing that Kuroo was getting a blood test, Kenma immediately insisted upon picking him up and going out to lunch so that Kuroo could rejuvenate his body.

Kuroo thought it was a rather thin excuse- the amount of blood lost in a blood test was negligible. Sure, he had an abnormal freakout about it every time, but that didn’t mean the amount of blood was actually large enough to affect him in any way. Kenma was certainly grasping at any excuse to get the two of them to spend time together, but it wasn’t like Kuroo particularly minded. The balance was quickly tipping to him spending more time at Kenma’s place than his own, and he had not a single complaint about it.

“If you’re not feeling loopy I wanna talk,” Kenma said, holding the mug of coffee in his hands.

Kuroo wondered if this was Kenma’s first meal of the day. He did order breakfast food despite it being well after noon. That bastard was the one who needed food to rejuvenate his body- not Kuroo.

“Talk?” Kuroo prompted.

Kuroo was pretty sure he knew what Kenma meant by that, but it seemed unwise at the very best to have the conversation in a public space. The Kenma that Kuroo was having the pleasure of getting to know was optimistic and impulsive, but this was certainly testing the limits.

“Yeah,” Kenma said, “The one we put next on the docket.”

So, Kenma did for some reason want to talk about his own deep-seated insecurities in the middle of a diner, a public place, where other people could hear them, and then Kenma would have to drive them elsewhere, because, again, they were in a public place and he drove there. Kuroo briefly wished the diner served alcohol to get him through the impending trainwreck of a conversation.

“Are you sure?”

It was Kuroo’s attempt at politely asking if Kenma was insane more than it was a literal question. They hadn’t done this a single time without Kenma crying, and this one was focused on Kenma entirely. What was going through his head?

“Mhm,” Kenma hummed, “I don’t need cards as a buffer if we’ve got food, because that’s a plenty fine buffer too.”

The lack or presence of a buffer wasn’t even on Kuroo’s radar.

“If this doesn’t work, we can go somewhere and finish later,” Kuroo said, trying to keep his tone gentle.

Kenma bristled the tiniest bit. Kuroo was positive that he was trying to hide the reaction from him. He mentally sighed as he resigned to the inclement mess.

“There’s no need because we can finish this here easy,” Kenma said, “Unless you genuinely just aren’t ready for the conversation, because in that case we can wait.”

He felt the overwhelming feeling that he was facing a toddler that was holding an open paint can. Kenma was an adult and could make his own questionable decisions. An adult with an open paint can. And a white table cloth. And (generally positive) new impulsive leanings.

“No, I’m ready,” Kuroo said, taking a bite.

It was true in that he had no need to prepare for the conversation, but otherwise, less so.

“Perfect,” Kenma said, taking a sip of his coffee, “So, today we are talking about how I’ve spent most of my life unhealthily dependent on you.”

Being the ‘you’ in the statement felt a bit weird for Kuroo, but he was more miffed by the direct approach rather than the odd sentiment. Kenma was tearing off the bandaid at light speed.

“Right.”

“And it was definitely an issue for a number of reasons. It wasn’t fair to you to have me be so overbearing and emotionally immature about it. It also wasn’t healthy for me to have every part of my self worth be tied to you. And this combination meant it wasn’t good for our relationship either. It really just took our problems and made them so much fucking worse than they needed it be.”

His tone was strategic as if they were reviewing game tape after a long tournament. It was refreshing. It was still somewhat odd, but refreshing nonetheless. It seemed like Kenma was on a roll and wanted to continue, but he paused long enough for it to get awkward without Kuroo responding. He almost didn’t want to say anything. The food was excellent and he was too busy stuffing it into his face. Plus, Kenma was doing a fantastic job of handling this on his own.

“I think that’s about how I feel about it, too,” Kuroo said.

“Then we’re on the same page so far,” Kenma said, waving his fork around as he spoke, “I think it’s even something I realized while we were together. I knew it was a problem and I knew that it wasn’t a good thing, but for some reason, I just couldn’t let go of being like that. Every time I tried, it only felt like it backfired so I stopped.”

Kuroo breathed deeply, in and out, probably jostling Kenma who was laying on top of him. The candles made the room smell incredible and the flickering lighting calmed him even more. He rubbed his hands mindlessly up and down Kenma’s bare back.

It occurred to Kuroo in the back of his mind that he should have brought Kenma flowers. It was the perfect romantic night already, but flowers would have been somehow better, a reminder of the loving they did that they could place on the counter and smile at. He wasn’t good at romance but he thought he did a pretty good job for once. Being that they were both exhausted and in the nude, he clearly didn’t do that poorly.

Kenma mumbled something into the crook of his neck.

“Hmm?” Kuroo hummed, gently moving his hands to play with his hair.

“Are you mad at me?”

Kuroo’s breath caught in his chest.

“What?”

“You, uh, were acting different, like tonight was not the, um, usual.”

Kuroo had to resist physically removing Kenma from his chest like his emotions were begging him to. He did something nice for once and Kenma thought he was angry?

“I was just trying to be romantic,” Kuroo said, almost as calm as he was trying to be.

“No, I know that, but, you, uh, you know, during the, you know, where you?”

Kuroo took a moment to collect the sanity that the previous statement knocked right out of him and all over the bed.

“Just because we had to change plans because it took me too long to get off doesn’t mean I’m mad at you.”

“I just mean that, I’m sorry I didn’t do a better job. If I was only better at this stuff it wouldn’t be like this and you wouldn’t have to be upset.”

Kuroo wasn’t upset. Well, he hadn’t been upset until they’d started talking about it.

Kuroo briefly wondered if Kenma would get through more than a few bites of his food. Probably not if he continued to act like he was giving a work presentation. Kuroo mentally noted to make sure to encourage Kenma to eat before his food got too cold.

“I can’t imagine it’s particularly easy to just wake up one day and change that part of you entirely,” Kuroo pointed out, “So it’s understandable.”

Kenma nodded. He took a moment to drink his coffee and seemed to think something through for a moment before speaking again.

“I’ve been working at it hard, though,” he said, “After, well you know, after, I just kept thinking that if I hadn’t been so damn codependent, it would have gone different. If I wasn’t so codependent, it would have buffered the lows. If I didn’t make everything worse by being dependent on you and us, maybe it would have been okay.”

Kuroo’s mind snaked around to the idea that Kenma constantly inviting him over was because he was falling into a codependency space again. He yanked it by the tail and tossed it somewhere else. Kenma clearly deserved the benefit of the doubt.

“I mean, I don’t think any one thing could have fixed it, but you’re almost unrecognizable,” Kuroo said, “At least what it seems to me.”

That was one of the first things Kuroo had noticed about him going back to their first reunification. Kenma carried with him a new air of confidence, a new air of independence that he’d never had before in social situations of any kind. It didn’t just predate their relationship- it was something Kuroo had never once seen for more than a fleeting moment since they were in elementary school.

“The big ass house helped. I can’t lie,” Kenma said, a faint smile on his lips, “It’s so stupidly big for one person. It’s kinda hard not to feel like a ghost wandering the halls sometimes. I used to throw any and all devices I could use to contact people into another room and just exist in quiet for a few hours every few days. It was embarrassingly difficult for me at first, just existing on my own, but I made it work.”

How was Kenma talking about this so casually? Kuroo tried not to stare at him, instead taking a slow bite of food.

“I’ve had some trouble looking in the mirror too,” Kuroo admitted, “But it seems like it’s really working for you.”

“I think so too, but yeah, that was the first step, getting used to being independent. Then I moved onto the second step.”

“Which was?”

“Getting good at being with others again, but not like getting so caught up in what they thought about me, which also isn’t easy per se, but those others weren’t you. Anyway though, at the very least I’m trying.”

“I think that’s all that matters,” Kuroo said, absolutely meaning it.

It was impressive. It really was. Kuroo couldn’t imagine how hard that must have been for him to even try, nevertheless keep at it. He imagined the nervous jitters as Kenma reached for a phone that wasn’t on him.

“But yeah, that’s all,” Kenma said, “Do you have questions or whatever? It’s a work in progress still but that’s all I got.”

“Uh, no, actually. It sounds like you fixed this conversation before it started.”

“I try my best,” Kenma said, “Can I have a bite of that, by the way? It looks stupid good.”

And just like that, the pair returned their focus to their meals and a subsequent casual conversation.

Kenma seemed entirely normal. Well, as normal as Kenma was on his rain walks. Kuroo on the other hand was more baffled than he was soaked, a competition that shouldn’t have been close given the downpour.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Kuroo said, adjusting his incredibly soaked beanie, “But I didn’t expect you to be so, uh, calm earlier today.”

“It’s alright,” Kenma said, beaming from his rain induced bliss, “Because it’ll all be alright.”

Kuroo wanted to let it drop until they weren’t on Kenma’s walk. He knew they were special to Kenma and a safe zone to elevate his mood, but Kuroo couldn’t handle another whiplash. Was Kenma truly and unquestioningly optimistic about their relationship? The last time Kenma thought everything was going to be okay, he quickly changed his mind.

Kuroo just couldn’t let it drop.

“Do you really think so?”

What if it was a false bravado? Was he just faking it in the hopes of making it?

“Indeed,” Kenma said, pulling his hood down to expose his hair, “It occurred to me the other day that we’re playing on easy mode. Have you noticed?”

Maybe high on walking Kenma wasn’t the right version of Kenma to have the discussion with after all. Worth it? Yes. Easy? Not a chance. Kuroo couldn’t imagine it would be much different for Kenma.

“Well, I mean, I guess the two of us are living different lives right now and I shouldn’t guess too much about what goes on in your head, but I wouldn’t use the word ‘easy’ to describe any of this,” Kuroo said.

Kenma slid his arm through Kuroo’s and held onto his bicep.

“We’ve got everything going for us. Do you know how many of our fights would have been avoided if we had money? I mean how many times did we argue about the bills or the many jobs or just come home ready to fight from work. Do you know how many fights we would never have even had if we both had therapists? If I was properly medicated? Do you know how many fights we would have fixed if we both knew exactly how it would end if we continued to fight like that? Do you know how long we would have been together if we both actively wanted it like we do now?”

Kuroo’s feet carried him on their own volition, but in every possible way apart from his physical form, he was frozen in his tracks.

“What?”

“We have everything we could possibly need to succeed this time. We have a whole blueprint and infinite supplies. If it doesn’t work out then it means we were never meant to be and I can’t see a universe where that’s true. If anyone is meant to be, it’s you and I.”

“It’s a bit of a bummer,” Nekomata said, “Since you graduated, Kenma hasn’t been quite the same.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes as he watched Kenma perfectly set up a strange, but clearly intentional, play to Fukunaga.

“I can’t say I agree.”

“I’m in no way saying his playing got worse. He wants to beat Karasuno just as much as always, and we both know how talented he is when he wants to be.”

Another incomprehensible declaration from Nekomata. If Kenma changed, his coach surely hadn’t.

“Of course he’s not going to be able to pull off the kind of attacks the two of us did,” Kuroo said, “And respectfully, it’s not really fair to ask him to.”

Nekomata laughed.

“You don’t need to defend him. He’s done nothing wrong on the court or otherwise, and I think you’d be surprised at what the two of them have been able to come up with,” the man said, clapping at a play, “It wasn’t a commentary on that in the least. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

An undeniable pinch of jealously poked around in Kuroo’s chest. How much time had Kenma and Fukunaga been practicing together? He watched in silence as Kenma rocketed a set towards Fukunaga who sent it right back at him. Kenma tipped it down hard. It was the closest thing Kenma had done to spiking in years.

“Yamamoto in a slump?”

Why was Kenma funneling to someone who wasn’t the ace?

“On the contrary.”

Kuroo didn’t acknowledge Nekomata’s disappointed expression. He didn’t feel like solving a logic puzzle to understand his point.

Kuroo’s brain was having trouble processing the words. It was a good thing. A really good thing. Kenma wasn’t wrong- not for a second- so why did the sentiment almost scare him?

“What?”

Kuroo was aware that he’d already asked that question and Kenma had already answered it, but his useless brain wouldn’t accept the words. Kenma was right, unquestionably right, but something felt wrong.

“We’re ready this time,” Kenma reiterated, “We have everything we need.”

Silence stretched on as Kuroo continued to search for any words he could find. He knew Kenma’s walks were normally without talking, but for Kuroo, the silence was grating. He had to say something, anything. Why were all of his immediate thoughts so negative? This should feel positive, not deeply ominous. He needed more time to think, but the seconds passing him by prodded his skin on their way past.

“I’m sorry I brought this up on your walk,” Kuroo said, “I know they’re supposed to be a happy time and it could have easily not gone that way.”

It was fairly off-topic, but at least it was comprised of words that formed a coherent thought. That was more than Kuroo thought he’d be able to do. Kenma bumped into Kuroo.

“No worries. I use my walks to think through everything. The walks typically start with a mess and end with a slightly smaller mess and a good amount of endorphins.”

Kuroo was rather annoyed. They were supposed to be having a serious conversation about their bills and the way Kenma streaming instead of picking up more hours at one of his many side jobs wasn’t helping. Instead of finishing the conversation and coming up with actual solutions, Kenma saw the rain begin to come down and took that opportunity to leave.

Kuroo pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes. Were they going to need to take out another loan?

“Hey,” Kenma said, busting the door open, “I’ve figured it out.”

He was dripping water all over the entryway.

“What?”

“You should qualify for assistance on your salary if you’re single. We’re both men. No way that we can’t convince the government that we’re just roommates. I mean, we aren’t married. Why don’t you apply?”

Even though it was technically fraud, it wasn’t a terrible idea. It may in fact have been their best option.

“Oh, really?”

Kenma launched into a discussion of the many issues he’d thought through on his ventures, but Kuroo wasn’t paying much attention at all. He was too busy trying to wrap his brain around Kenma’s simple point. Why did it bother him so much? Why did the auspicious prospect come with an insidious feeling of doom.

“Ding dong. Anyone home?” Kenma said, and Kuroo realized that he was supposed to respond, but he didn’t hear what came before the prompt- the deafening clicking of pieces blocked it out.

If their relationship failed again, Kuroo would have absolutely nothing to blame, nothing but his own damn self. Everything was slanted in their favor and Kenma had already put in the work to change. That realization, the one that his insecurity tried to protect him from by hiding it from his awareness, hit him hard.

“Hang on.”

The expression on Kenma’s face indicated that he thought Kuroo was going crazy, but Kenma stopped walking regardless. Kuroo wordlessly wrapped his arms around Kenma and kissed his forehead.

The same few thoughts pounded through his head as they continued walking. Over and over. He was going to ruin it. It would be all his fault. Only his fault. There was nothing else left to blame.

When he returned from Kenma’s guest shower, he didn’t expect to be propositioned. It wasn’t too far outside of the expected realm of things for Kenma to ask, but his brain was too busy drilling into him that not only would he mess this all up- he possibly already did somehow. Perhaps the beginning of the end already happened and he would have no way to know. He wasn’t nearly as good as Kenma and would crack under the pressure. Kenma had changed, but Kuroo was a man pretending to be changed.

“You’d let me do that?” Kuroo asked, “I don’t even know how to braid.”

“Can you braid my hair?” Kenma asked.

“I don’t know how to braid,” Kuroo said, finally giving up and closing his book.

“It’s easy. I can show you.”

“If it’s easy, why don’t you just do it yourself?” Kuroo asked.

“Uh, sure,” Kenma said, pressing his lips into a thin line.

Kuroo thought nothing of it as Kenma walked out to braid his hair in the bathroom by himself. Kuroo just shrugged and returned to his novel.

He swallowed. What if he tangled Kenma’s hair? What if he pulled on it and it hurt? What if it looked bad? What if Kenma’s ability to not be dependent on him made him able to lie about it and Kuroo would never find out that he ruined Kenma’s hair leading to the untimely demise of their rebooted relationship?

“Sure. Why not?”

He held out a comb and Kuroo grabbed it from him. The comb felt foreign in his hand as if he didn’t use one every day of his life.

“Okay, so like, where?”

Was he supposed to stand and have Kenma sit in a chair like a hair salon? That seemed unnecessarily professional, but he wasn’t sure what a better option would be.

“Sit there with your back to the couch and spread your legs,” Kenma said, gesturing at the floor.

“I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to spread my legs for you,” Kuroo pointed out, earning a playful poke in the side from Kenma.

“Nobody has to know,” Kenma whispered as Kuroo followed his directions.

Kenma then sat between Kuroo’s outstretched legs and set a pack of rainbow hair ties on the ground next to them. If he wasn’t busy being flattened by the pressure of their entire relationship, Kuroo might have had some racy feelings about the positioning. Even when Kenma set his hands on Kuroo’s thighs, Kuroo hardly paid it any mind. He was too busy mourning some hypothetical mistake. This was all too good to be true, and he wasn’t good enough to make it true.

“I’ll show you how.”

Repositioning himself a bit so he could see what Kenma was doing wasn’t too fruitful. Kenma’s hands were blocking what was happening, but the narration helped. It seemed rather easy. Add hair. Left to middle. Add hair. Right to middle. When Kenma did his braids they always looked so fancy but Kuroo didn’t realize that they were pretty easy to do after all.

“But yeah,” Kenma said, undoing the braid, “You might want to look it up on your phone so you can see it easier.”

“No, I can definitely do it.”

He didn’t want Kenma to think he hadn’t been listening. It was the very least he could do for Kenma after Kenma upturned his whole way of being for them. Kuroo wasn’t worthy of Kenma, but maybe braiding would set him in the right direction.

“Fine, but I’m telling you right now that you’re going to be humbled.”

“I will not.”

Kenma made a noise but didn’t say anything, so Kuroo got to work.

“Maybe start with a smaller braid so it’s less hair to deal with,” Kenma suggested.

It was gentle, but in his fragile state, it needled Kuroo. It was fine. He could do it. The annoyance faded once he looked down at the braid he was holding. It was a mess.

“Okay,” he said, gently freeing the hair from the braid and sectioning off a new area.

Kuroo’s hands were unbelievably shaky. He used to be a national caliber athlete, but all of his coordination was reduced to nothing. He kept forgetting which piece of hair went where and couldn’t get the hang of grabbing the same amount of hair, making the braid terribly uneven.

“You’re getting better at this,” Kenma said, “I obviously can’t see it, but I can tell by your movements and how it feels.”

“I’m working on suppressing my manliness so I can do it,” Kuroo said, “I think it’s working.”

He let the music Kenma turned on wash over him as he worked on making little braids. It felt nice to focus on something, and having the consistent touch with Kenma was the icing on the cake.

“Can I ask you a question?” Kenma asked.

Focusing on the braid took all of Kuroo’s attention. Thankfully, he didn’t have enough cognition to spare in order to appropriately panic at the question.

“Mhm,” he said, pulling a lock over and tightening it in place.

Tightening the braid made it look better, but it also made it harder to successfully continue to the next twist.

“Why do you care so much about what people think about you and being a man? You kinda always have, but I’ve noticed it a lot lately.”

It was an odd assertion. Kuroo didn’t care how others perceived him.

“Because I am a man?”

“Am I not, then?” Kenma asked.

Kuroo wanted to respond by asking Kenma why he was trying to pick a fight, but instead, he spoke calmly. One mistake averted.

“Of course you’re a man. Aren’t you?”

“But I have long hair and braids,” Kenma said, “And yeah, I have to be the one to braid them.”

“Are you trying to say that you’re not a man?”

It wouldn’t be a big deal if so. Kuroo was notably bisexual after all. They had discussed that at length.

“I’m a man,” Kenma said through a yawn, “But I guess not according to your standards.”

Kuroo’s father finished his eighth beer, threw it across the room into the trashcan, and popped open another one to drink.

“I can’t believe your mother birthed me two fucking daughters.”

It sufficed to say that he wasn’t taking the whole ‘son being bisexual’ thing particularly well.

The word entrapment bounced through Kuroo’s brain.

“I didn’t say you weren’t. I was just asking.”

Kuroo was trying to keep his tone pleasant, but even he recognized it wasn’t working too well. His agitation poked through and he felt like he was watching himself drive a car into a tree.

“We don’t have to talk about it,” Kenma said, “I just think it’s odd that you care so much about trying to be manly for some reason and ‘manning up’ or whatever.”

“Okay.”

He didn’t have anything else to say and apparently neither did Kenma, so Kuroo just continued braiding. He actively didn’t think about whatever Kenma was talking about, simply focusing on making his hands do what they needed to do. It took him a while, but he became more confident as he went, having to reposition his hands less and less by the twist. He wanted to make the best braids.

“I have finished the practice braids,” Kuroo said, “I think I’m ready for the real one.”

“Hang on.”

Kenma held his phone up with the front facing camera on to witness what he couldn’t see by pulling it over his shoulders. Kuroo smiled and leaned in as Kenma angled the screen to take a picture of them.

“Commemorating my terrible work?” Kuroo asked.

“Nah, you crushed it,” Kenma said, laughing sweetly.

He held up the pack of hair ties.

“You can’t be serious,” Kuroo said, looking at the six differently sized and misshapen braids that had started to come undone at the ends.

“I am. I love them.”

Kuroo took the pack of ties from Kenma and refinished each braid, accidentally starting with the wrong piece on some, and tied them off with the different color ties.

“Want to see me with curly hair?” Kenma asked, tipping his head back against Kuroo’s chest.

Kuroo wrapped his arms around Kenma’s stomach. He would never get enough of that. Holding Kenma was the only good his arms could ever do.

“Of course I do.”

“I suppose more like curly hair for like 10 minutes because my hair couldn’t hold a real curl to save its life,” Kenma said, “It’ll take all night to dry, though.”

It sounded like an invitation for Kuroo to stay the night, one he wouldn’t refuse. He was planning on working from home anyway. There were no rules about whose home he could work from.

“Well, I guess I ought to sleep over then,” he said, squeezing his arms around Kenma even tighter.

Kuroo tried to ignore the fact that Kenma didn’t quite dissolve into him like he usually did.

“Hmm, I guess you must.”

Kuroo’s bedroom- the guest bedroom anyway- had a great desk, but Kuroo chose to work from the front room couch regardless.

Part of it was the beautiful natural lighting, but part of it was that he’d spent his entire night in the guest bedroom, facing the realization that one wrong move on his part would ruin everything. It started as that simple fact, but began to spiral.

Kenma’s birthday was the next week. What did that look like for them? They at that point would haven’t been ‘together’ long enough that Kuroo probably could reasonably be planning something for it, but was that too forward? That hadn’t been ‘together’ for too much longer than that threshold and maybe Kenma had other plans already? Why should Kenma have to feel bad about having plans without Kuroo? Why should Kuroo feel the right to plan something? What if the idea he’d been considering wouldn’t be good? What if Kenma felt obligated to accept? Kuroo was trapped inside of one of Kenma’s choose your own adventure games and he wanted out. He had no idea where each press of the button would lead him.

Just as Kuroo mulled it over for the fiftieth time, he heard Kenma walk into the room. Kuroo looked up at him to see that he was still in sleepwear and the braids were even more of a disaster than they had been.

“You must destroy the remains of your creation,” Kenma said, solemnly, “It is time.”

That was exactly what Kuroo was trying to avoid, actually. He didn’t know what Kenma meant, but it surely- hopefully- wasn’t what Kuroo was thinking about.

“Umm,” Kuroo started, getting up to walk towards Kenma.

“You know,” Kenma said, again gauging Kuroo like he was insane, “Like Frankenstein.”

Kuroo finally realized that Kenma was referring to the braids, not prophesying their imminent breakup.

“Right,” Kuroo said, gently pulling the braids over Kenma’s shoulders so he could take the ties off.

He put them on his wrist before immediately realizing he was restricting blood flow. He ignored that fact as he gently unwound each braid. He was trying to be careful, but he was mostly focused on figuring out how to broach the birthday topic. He was supposed to be excited that this was a mistake he fixed, something directly wrong that he undid, but he couldn’t let go of the fear.

“Look,” Kenma said.

He backed up a step and flipped his hair forward and backward and over again. It fluffed it out significantly and his hair was full of waves of different sizes and patterns. It was messy, but it was also cute, framing Kenma’s face in a way Kuroo had never seen. Kuroo looked at him, getting lost in his thoughts.

“What is with you?” Kenma said, his tone lighthearted, “You really seem out of it lately.”

Kenma grabbed Kuroo’s hand in his own and pulled the ties off of it. He then sat them in his pocket before gently rubbing Kuroo’s wrist.

Kenma pulled the handcuffs off Kuroo’s wrists and Kuroo stretched them both out, rolling them in slow circles.

“Oh fuck. Did I hurt you?” Kenma asked.

His brow was furrowed as he grabbed Kuroo’s wrists.

“They’re just a bit stiff from the angle. Trust me, I’m fine,” Kuroo said, “I’m very fine right now.”

Getting Kenma to even kinda dom him was hard, so he had no complaints. Having stiff muscles was normal, or so he figured.

“Oh fuck, sorry, let me just-“

Kenma’s focus immediately shifted to rubbing his wrists, trying to relax the muscles, the mess of their activities clearly falling out of his mind entirely. Kuroo’s comfort must have been his only priority.

It was time to be out with it.

“I had been thinking that I wanted to maybe throw you a birthday party. I know you don’t want a big bash, but I was thinking something like a game night and snacks. I could put together a fun little menu of appetizers and desserts and maybe even have people bring new games. I’d have to get your help with an invite list, obviously.”

“That sounds fun,” Kenma said with a small smile.

Kuroo felt an undercurrent of nerves tickle through his body. He should have said it in a different way. What if Kenma felt like he had to agree to it? Maybe he should have been more casual in his phrasing. It hopefully wasn’t too late to readjust.

“Actually, we don’t have to do that if you don’t want, like it’s no pressure. None at all. It was just an idea I had, well, an idea I’ve been having,” Kuroo said, his mouth getting away from him. “Maybe I shouldn’t have even brought it up. I didn’t need to say that. Not right now.”

He didn’t miss Kenma’s expression revert to its original incredulous concern.

“I literally said it sounds fun as in I think it is a good idea and I want to do it,” Kenma said, slowly.

Maybe it sounded fun, but without Kuroo there. They hadn’t hung out with anyone in a group setting since they broke up in the first place. What if Kenma didn’t want his birthday celebration to be the guinea pig of that first? Kuroo had to quickly nip it in the bud.

“And I know, it’s not like I’m entitled to your birthday. I’m not. It’s not my birthday. It’s yours, so you should spent it however you want with whoever you want. I do not have a right to spend your birthday with you and it seems presumptuous to be in charge. So I guess even if you want to do it, you could still do it with like your friends and I wouldn’t have to be there,” Kuroo clarified, “You know what I’m trying to say.”

Kenma stared at him, his jaw slightly ajar. Kuroo couldn’t help but look away.

“No, I do not know. We-,” Kenma said, “We’re together. We are dating. I want to spend my birthday with you because, again, we are dating. I like you. I like spending time with you. I enjoy your presence. I actually assumed I would spend my birthday with you. You don’t need to plan a party if you don’t want to, but I want you to spend it with me regardless.”

“Oh.”

Kenma moved his hands to Kuroo’s cheeks, tilting his face down so that he was forced to make eye contact.

“Now, I know you’re not over here being insecure for some odd reason, thinking that you’re not good enough to me and I’m just keeping you around to spare your feelings,” Kenma said, “Because that is not what’s happening here. If I didn’t want you in my life I would kick your ass to the street so fucking fast, but I like you. I’m into you. I adore you.”

That didn’t help. Not in the slightest. Kenma was going to forcefully remove Kuroo from his life if this failed. He wouldn’t even hesitate. It would be Kenma’s decision, but Kuroo’s fault. Kuroo’s initial feelings were correct. It was all going to end in flames, and he would be the one holding the matches.

Kuroo swallowed and opted not to respond. Kenma sighed.

“Okay, to clarify, I’m not going to like remove you instantly, in case that wasn’t clear. I want to work through things not run from them, which is why we’re doing this now, like literally discussing this right now, because I need you to understand, but my point is my point. I’m not keeping you around out of some weird sunk cost obligation. I’m keeping you around because I like you.”

Kenma already left him once. Maybe he was too embarrassed to have to do it again. Maybe it meant all of this reunion and second try silliness shouldn’t have happened and Kenma no longer had that innate compulsion to constantly check in about it, so Kuroo was none the wiser.

“It’s not a sunk cost. It’s more like I think you don’t want me to feel bad if you don’t wanna spend time with me so you just tell me it to not upset me.”

Kenma had his own life outside of Kuroo. It seemed so presumptuous to think that he should be allowed in it.

“You don’t really think I’m that kind of person, do you? The kind of man who would lead you on? Torture you with the awkwardness of the last few months, and only because it would make me feel too mean to tell the truth that I don’t want to hang out with you?”

The words sounded like an accusation but Kenma’s tone and expression was more concerned than angry.

“It’s just that I know I’ve done a lot wrong and I’m scared I won’t be able to tell what you’re thinking anymore. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to hang out with me and I’ll never know if that’s the case.”

“I don’t have to, though. That’s what I’m trying to say. I’m not here lying to your face and rolling my eyes when you’re turned away. I wouldn’t do that to you,” Kenma said, “And I’m a tiny bit upset you think I would. I mean, I’m not the best person or anything, but damn, I like to think that I’m a good enough person not to be seen as so two-faced that I’m intentionally hiding resentment from you and then lying about it to string you along, just to pull the rug out from under you one day.”

That wasn’t fair. He wasn’t saying that Kenma was mean or a bad person. He was saying the opposite- that Kenma was trying to spare his feelings- but how could he do that? There was no way for Kenma to spare his feelings in this situation without being a liar, without being manipulative. Maybe Kenma had a point.

Kenma was neither of those things and it made Kuroo sick to even put that upon him. He hadn’t even considered thinking about it like that.

“No, I’m sorry. You’re not and I’m not saying that,” Kuroo said, his voice shaky, “I just- I guess I sometimes just think that I’m not good enough for us to work, and I hate it, because I really like us.”

They weren’t the words that he wanted to say, but they were true.

“Tetsurou, I love you,” Kenma said, staring straight into his soul, “Are those the words you need to hear? They’re not casual-no-big-deal-dating words, but they’re true words. I love you. So much that I can hardly comprehend it.”

Kuroo’s mind went blank. Kenma loved him? Why would he do that?

“Uh,” Kuroo said, trying to gather himself.

“It’s okay,” Kenma said, grabbing his hands, “You don’t need to say it back. I just need you to know that I love you. I love you more than enough to want this to work, to put in the work to make it work. I want to work but I mostly want to spend all of my time with you. Birthdays and otherwise.”

He brought Kuroo’s hands to his face and kissed them one after the other.

“Uh, I do too, just so you know.”

He loved Kenma, so much, but his brain was far too scared to say it out loud. He wasn’t thinking straight. It was obvious that Kenma had to hold back a smile, but then his expression suddenly turned.

“Why would you love a me that you think lies to you- that you think doesn’t like you?”

The tip of Kuroo’s tongue contained the point that Kenma did that exact thing for a notably long time. They’d even just talked about it.

“I know.”

Alternative words weren’t exactly coming to him.

“You don’t deserve that. You know that, right?” Kenma said.

The words crashed right into him. He didn’t want to face them. He’d actively been avoiding facing them. He did deserve that. He deserved to suffer for who he was. He was much, much better and growing by the minute but he still felt like he owed the insurmountable debt, a penance for his sins.

“I mean-“

He said it like more words would follow but he ran out of them. He was struggling and struggling hard.

“It gets you nowhere. It gets us nowhere,” Kenma pleaded, “I forgive it. All of it. I forgive you. I don’t want you to be punished and I don’t want to be the one that punishes.”

Did he really deserve the forgiveness?

“You don’t have to do that.”

Kenma squeezed his hands.

“Sure I don’t,” Kenma said, “But I am, and not for a second do I think it’s the wrong decision. Why bog us down when I can just love the shit out of you? That’s all I want to do.”

He knew Kenma was right, but it was impossible to believe regardless. The weight of forgiveness settled heavy in his body. He looked at Kenma, mentally and desperately begging for a lifeline, any lifeline. He fucked up. He understood that.

He would try not to think like that anymore- not that it’d be easy. It wasn’t fair to him. It wasn’t fair to Kenma. His brain was too busy dealing with the consequences of forgiveness to think his way out of the conversation. Never once had he so quickly acquiesced to his wrongness. The whiplash stole the words right out from his throat.

He stared into Kenma’s eyes, silently begging for an out.

“Okay, fine,” Kenma said, gently, “I know what’s happening. You actually are just acutely aware that I look cute, ha, acute, right now because of the hair and you’re getting all flustered, so you aren’t thinking straight.”

Relief lightened the strain of the forgiveness. If Kenma knew him so damn well that he answered the silent call, and still chose to forgive him, then maybe he was deserving of that forgiveness after all.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo said, trying to mentally shake himself out of it, “You just look really pretty right now. I mean your hair is so cute like this and it’s making my brain short circuit.”

It mostly wasn’t a lie. Kenma did look really pretty, even if the curls were already much flatter. Kuroo gently ran his fingers through the waves.

“Good boy,” Kenma said, patting his ass, “Now let me text you that invite list.”

Kuroo couldn’t help but blush.

Chapter Text

Kuroo sent out the invite text to everyone individually. He felt like they probably all had a group chat if they met as often as Kenma implied, but he wasn’t in the chat regardless, and certainly didn’t feel comfortable starting a new one.

Within a second of locking his phone so that he could finish cleaning his apartment, it lit up with a call. Kuroo immediately accepted it.

“Excuse me?” Bokuto said in lieu of greeting.

Kuroo snorted, tossing an empty wine bottle into his garbage can.

“What?” he asked, certainly knowing what.

He probably should have kept Bokuto updated on the many things that’d happened since the last time the two had talked in person, but Kuroo was too busy being infatuated with Kenma to even think about it. It still felt so new, so private, so delicate, that it was like a secret.

“What the fuck?” Bokuto asked.

“So, before we get started,” Kuroo said, setting the pizza box on Bokuto’s counter, “Kenma and I are dating now.”

As he said the word ‘dating’, he slid his fingers into Kenma’s to underscore the point. He could feel both sets of eyes on them, and then Kenma subsequently shrinking due to the attention. Kuroo squeezed his hand.

“Good grief,” Akaashi said, looking back down at his laptop.

“We just wanted you to know so it wasn’t weird or whatever,” Kuroo clarified.

“It’s about time you geniuses figured it out,” Akaashi continued, “I mean, we were beginning to think you were hopeless.”

“What?” Kuroo asked.

He led Kenma over to the open half of the couch.

“Well, it’s just that you guys always act like you’re dating anyway,” Bokuto explained, “Like you’re a foolproof couple. You’re obviously meant to be together.”

“Oh,” Kuroo said, “Well, it’s still pretty new.”

“Sign the marriage papers already,” Akaashi said.

Kuroo could see out of the corner of his eye that Kenma was turning multiple shades of red at the concept of others considering them dating. Kuroo on the other hand found it cute and a sign of good things to come.

“You don’t like parties?” Kuroo asked, “In that case you don’t have to come.”

Kuroo grabbed a towel to wipe off the counters.

“Since when are you talking to Kenma? Throwing parties for Kenma?”

Smugness was the first emotion Kuroo had. That’s right. He did it. He made himself worthy of Kenma again. Bokuto surely must have believed it to be an insurmountable task. Kuroo himself believed it so at one point, but apparently it wasn’t.

“Oh, you know, for a while now. Not the party planning. That’s new, but not the hanging out and whatnot,” Kuroo said, trying to come off casually.

“How long?”

The second emotion Kuroo felt was guilt. He really should have kept Bokuto in the loop. Bokuto during the breakup had been the only friend he retained that he had made as a kid.

“It’s not like I have the date memorized,” Kuroo said, “But it’s been a good few months.”

A lie. He did in fact have the dates of their initial reunification and also the hot tub kiss memorized, but that didn’t help his casual vibe.

“Neither of you told me?” Bokuto asked, “With the amount of terrible memes you send me and the amount of time Kenma is in my house not eating the food I make for him?”

Uneasiness was the third emotion Kuroo felt. Kenma not telling that entire group did seem to be odd. Kuroo had the excuse of not really seeing Bokuto, but Kenma? Not so much. Why wouldn’t Kenma tell all of them? The whole group seemed to have gotten really close.

As it was, Kenma seemed to be the one continually pushing their romantic relationship forward. It would have made even more sense for Kenma to talk it through with others. Was this a continued artifact from the original hesitancy Kenma had in their relationship? Or maybe was Kenma afraid of what the others would think?

“Yeah. Sorry about that,” Kuroo said, his mind not on the conversation at hand.

“And you two have decided you are,” Bokuto said, stretching out the length of the words, “Giving it another try?”

Kuroo froze. If Kenma hadn’t told them all, a group he was closer to, maybe it wasn’t Kuroo’s place to provide that information without checking with him. Maybe there was a good reason he hadn’t said anything.

“Uh, depends on your definition of ‘it’ and ‘try’,” Kuroo said, before hastily adding, “Anyway, got to go.”

Being overly vague and then getting out of the conversation probably wasn’t a good way to handle it, but it was effective. He could brief with Kenma at some point before the party to figure out what was going on and what he should say.

“Wha-“

“I have to hang up now,” Kuroo said, “Bye! See you on Friday!”

“Hey, asshole-“

Kuroo ended the call. Bokuto called back, but Kuroo did not pick up. It suddenly occurred to Kuroo that he hadn’t told anyone besides his therapist that they were dating again.

Had Kenma?

When Kuroo texted Kenma, asking to come over at the exact minute that Kenma had texted Kuroo asking him to come over, he hadn’t realized that Kenma had plans. He certainly didn’t mind them. The weather was beautiful and laying on a sheet on Kenma’s roof to look at the stars was surprisingly delightful.

“Wanna stay up here until the sun comes up?” Kenma asked, his eyes reflecting the moonlight.

He was laying with his head on Kuroo’s thighs. Kuroo was still sitting up because he had to eat the fruit that Kenma had so painstakingly washed and cut. Kuroo had the sneaking suspicion that Kenma intentionally made the snack be fruit, and then ate only a few bites so that Kuroo would have to eat the majority of it. Apparently the illusion of fruit disappearing from the fridge counted as Kenma eating it.

“Sorry. I have work in the morning,” Kuroo said, running a hand through Kenma’s hair, “Wait. Don’t you have work in the morning?”

They’d done all-nighters before, but that was in a different lifetime, one where they had many less responsibilities.

Kuroo knew taking the class with Kenma would be a mistake, but when Kenma begged him to enroll, he couldn’t resist. He wanted to see what Kenma looked like in a classroom setting. Despite being friends for years, they’d never had a class in common. As it turned out, Kenma in a classroom setting was a disaster. He spent more time jotting notes down for his next game idea than for class and regularly played online trivia games during lecture.

“Kenma.”

There was no answer.

“Kenma!”

Again, the lump on the couch did not respond.

“Kenma! Get up!” Kuroo tried again, tossing a notebook at him, “You said no sleep until the final!”

Kuroo heard a loud groan from the blanket cocoon.

“What do you want?” Kenma’s muffled voice came.

“What did you get for number seven on the practice set?”

“Your dad.”

“I know,” Kenma said, “But we can pretend we’re going to do it.”

Kuroo smiled and took a sip of his beer.

“I would love to watch the sunrise with you,” Kuroo said, “We can lay here as long as we like.”

Kenma let out a peaceful sigh.

“Very true.”

Kuroo started to braid tiny little sections of Kenma’s hair. It was far too dark to see what he was doing, but Kenma’s hair was begging to be touched and he had no choice but to oblige. Kuroo debated stopping for a moment to force-feed Kenma some berries, but he didn’t want Kenma to roll off the roof in protest, so he just silently braided, enjoying the feeling of Kenma laying on him. At some point, Kenma closed his eyes and Kuroo wondered if he was falling asleep.

“You had said you wanted to talk about something,” Kenma said after a long stretch of silence.

“That was before I knew you planned a really nice night for us,” Kuroo admitted, “Which, thank you, by the way.”

“Mmm,” Kenma hummed, grabbing one of Kuroo’s hands to kiss it, “No biggie. We can talk about it now.”

Kuroo paused for a second. He didn’t want to bring down the mood.

“It’s not a hurry.”

“Oh. It’s something bad then? Like you don’t want to ruin the vibe?”

Kenma’s eyes opened, and it was hard to see his expression in the dark, but he didn’t seem to be too concerned.

“Busted,” Kuroo admitted.

“I’m sure it’ll be fine as long as you’re not about to tell me that you think the new Metal Gear sucks, you quit your job to become a cult leader, or you’re having a torrid love affair with the Prime Minister,” Kenma said, “With my level of concern being in the order as listed.”

“No,” Kuroo said, a little apprehensive as he weighed the discussion, “None of those things apply.”

“Ah, sorry, no cheating jokes,” Kenma said, sounding rather sincere, “But whatever it is, I’m sure it’s fine.”

Kuroo hadn’t been bothered by the joke, though he was rather touched by the thoughtfulness. Kenma’s calm tone was enough to convince him that it’d be fine to talk about. Kenma wouldn’t push him off the roof if it went wrong.

Probably.

“Fair enough,” Kuroo said, “What do we tell them about us dating?”

It occurred to him that he didn’t provide requisite context, but he figured Kenma would understand regardless.

“That we’re dating,” Kenma responded as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“We have to,” Kenma said, buckling his seatbelt.

“If you’re not ready for it- can you take this- if you’re not ready we don’t have to tell anyone yet,” Kuroo said, handing Kenma the pizza box.

“What if it makes things weird? We’ve been friends for so long,” Kenma said, “And this is going to change stuff.”

Kuroo paused.

“I really don’t think it’ll change anything,” Kuroo said, buckling his own seatbelt, “I mean, we’re still just two pairs of people hanging out.”

“I’m just scared is all.”

Kuroo was used to Kenma being scared, particularly when it came to unpredictable social exchanges. That he could help.

“It’s okay. I can tell them. That way they find out, and you don’t have to say anything. You’ll also be right there to see how they react so you don’t think I’m misrepresenting how it goes,” Kuroo said, “Does that sound good?”

Kenma set a shaky hand on Kuroo’s thigh.

“Thank you,” he said, quietly.

“Oh, okay,” Kuroo said.

That was easy.

“And I assume you were worried about asking because you think I might be ashamed of you or that I think it’s best not to tell anyone in case it fails,” Kenma said, “Right?”

“Well,” Kuroo said, realizing that this was the exact thing Kenma had just told him not to do, and he said he would not do again, “Kinda, yeah. Sorry, but I couldn’t help but wonder why. Since you talk to them regularly, I thought it was odd that you hadn’t mentioned it to them. I wasn’t sure if you were trying to be on the down low with me and why that was if so.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Kenma said, “I probably should have brought it up earlier. I wanted to give you the ability to decide. Like I didn’t want anyone to bother you about it because I told them, so I just didn’t and figured we’d get there at some point. I’ve just been so wrapped up in you that I haven’t been thinking about anyone else.”

That made Kuroo feel a lot better. It lessened some guilt about being so wrapped up in Kenma that he didn’t tell Bokuto about them either. Regardless of what it said about them as people, at least they were in it together.

“Who do you think would bother me?” Kuroo asked.

He had a sneaking suspicion that quite a few people would think them being back together was a bad idea.

“I mean, literally every single person you texted the invite to sent me a text or like five asking what was going on with us,” Kenma said, a tinge of amusement in his voice.

All of them?

“Oh,” Kuroo said, realizing that Bokuto was the only one who contacted him, “What did you tell them?”

Kenma snorted.

“I turned my text notifications off and they have stayed off since you sent them out.”

“Are you serious?” Kuroo asked, laughing.

“Dead serious. I have probably like thirty unread texts right now. I was planning on asking you about this tomorrow. I figured they could use the practice at being patient anyway.”

Kuroo had to appreciate some of Kenma’s methods at avoiding sticky social situations.

“They’re going to be pissed,” Kuroo pointed out, “But yeah, tell them we’re together. The last thing I want to do is spend time pretending not to be yours.”

A realization bounced its way to the forefront of Kuroo’s brain. That was easy. Really easy. Getting pre-breakup Kenma to have that conversation would have been like pulling teeth, but this was simple, low stakes. Kenma really had changed. Sure, he was ignoring texts to put off conversations, but when those conversations happened, he clearly knew how to have them. An odd sense of pride in Kenma’s growth flowed through him as he brought his hand down to caress his cheek. Every cell within him wanted to lean down and kiss him, but instead he just basked in the enjoyment, wishing they could actually be there all night.

“Wonderful. So, what’s on today’s agenda?” Kuroo’s therapist asked as Kuroo sat down.

There was one major thing they needed to get to and Kuroo knew damn well that it would slowly become a bigger and bigger problem if he didn’t proactively handle it.

“Actually, I had a question about therapy,” Kuroo said, “Kenma had mentioned going to ‘second therapy’ at one point. What does that mean?”

That was not the thing that needed to be discussed- not remotely so. He was mostly just stalling. Proactively handling something didn’t mean right away, right? Especially when merely thinking about it made guilt curl inside.

“The vast majority of patients see a single therapist, but for some with more specialized conditions, they might see two. For exam-“

“No, like if you have two therapies with the same therapist?” Kuroo clarified, “He pretty clearly implied it was with her.”

He didn’t even care all that much but he was somewhat curious and asking a therapist about therapy seemed to be a good way to stall.

“I suppose some people do see the same therapist for different concurrent therapies. It’s more common in those with OCD, eating disorders, and PTSD so they can work out specific symptoms in one type and then more talk-like therapy for other things like personal stressors or depression.”

Kuroo frowned for a moment. That didn’t sound right. Kenma didn’t have OCD, nor did he have PTSD. His eating was a mess, but it didn’t seem particularly disordered.

“Hmm, I have no idea then,” Kuroo admitted, “Maybe I’ll ask him.”

Kenma would sometimes tell him things he discussed in therapy, but it was never something that seemed like it’d fit into some secret second therapy. Regardless, it didn’t seem like the kind of thing Kenma would feel the need to hide.

“Don’t be too concerned if he doesn’t want to get into it. Some people prefer to keep therapy behind closed doors,” he said and Kuroo nodded, “Is that what you wanted to talk about or was it actually something else?”

He thought through some ways to bring second therapy up to Kenma instead of answering the question. Again, the entire concept of second therapy was nothing more than a slight curiosity, but at least he wasn’t thinking about the other thing. Unfortunately, the one thing Kuroo’s therapist did that he didn’t like was letting a silence hang. He wasn’t getting out of it.

“Well, not really,” Kuroo said, not particularly wanting to explain.

He hated feeling insecure. The vulnerability caused him physical pain.

“So what’s going on? It’s been sounding like things have been going pretty well. As a matter of fact, I was just wondering when you’d be out of probation or whatever you call it.”

Kuroo again let the quiet stretch out for a moment. He wanted to discuss the end of probation. It was happening somewhat soon. They’d talked about pretty much everything they were tasked with talking about, and both agreed they’d go in again when both of their schedules aligned with Kenma’s therapist’s schedule. Kuroo could say that instead of what he was there to talk about, but no, he’d learned the longer into the session he waited to say things, the harder they were to say.

“I sometimes feel like Kenma has changed but I’m just someone pretending to change,” Kuroo finally said, “Or to have changed, I guess.”

“Do you really think so?” he asked, “I think you’re quite different even just from when I first met you.”

“I do,” Kuroo said, “Something about him just feels so fundamentally different, and I’m still just me, but now I focus really hard on behaving acceptably.”

“Okay, so, there are multiple ways we can unpack this,” he said, jotting something down, “First, I’m going to tell you that while you were by no means irreproachable, you weren’t some irredeemable creature either. I, again, truly think you spent a lot of time cracking due to prolonged stress as prolonged stress is known for cracking people. I also think you’re now better at handling stress and in general more comfortable in your own skin and being a person you’re happy being.”

Kuroo frowned. Of course his therapist would say that. His job was to make Kuroo feel better. That didn’t make it true, however.

“Second way to unpack it?” Kuroo asked.

“Second, you’re going to ignore that sentiment because you always do.”

Kuroo pursed his lips. It was the closest to sass his therapist ever really got.

“Third?”

The man looked like he was going to force Kuroo to engage with his progress, but he seemed to mentally table the discussion.

“I honestly think you get that confidence with practice,” he said, “You started your journey after he did. It’s not a surprise he seems more on top of it than you feel. With time I think you’ll feel that way too. It’s normal at first not to.”

“But our practice doesn’t have that much of a time difference,” Kuroo countered.

“How do you know that? Have you talked about when he started his?”

Kuroo hadn’t really thought deeply about when after their breakup Kenma started his personal upheaval. He did suppose that if Kenma started right after their breakup that he had more than a year on him. The realization made him feel a little better.

“Yeah, I don’t know how long after the split he started doing therapy and whatnot,” Kuroo admitted, “But he probably has been at this for longer than I have.”

Kuroo had gotten oddly comfortable referring to their breakup. As time went on, it lost its edge. It was just an event in a timeline, a regrettable event, but an over and done event regardless. Their new relationship was healing over that wound rather effectively.

“It’s not my job to make unsubstantiated guesses, but I’d be willing to wager that Kenma started the changing process that you’re talking about longer ago than you think he did,” the therapist said, “I’d guess he started even before you broke up.”

There was no way. They were so burnt out they could barely sleep. There wasn’t a chance Kenma would have been able to even consider facing himself.

“I really don’t know about that,” Kuroo admitted.

“Obviously, I could be wrong here, but the breakup never really seemed to have made that much sense to me,” he said, “You told me that you two fought, like you always did, but this time Kenma said he was ending it. Then you went outside for a moment to clear your head and by the time you came back, Kenma had already started packing his things into boxes.”

Okay, maybe the breakup was more than just an event on a timeline. When the breakup was described as its own timeline like that with its own mini events, Kuroo felt a chill go through him. The edge was very much still there.

“Correct,” Kuroo said, trying not to let it show.

“What were you even fighting about? I don’t remember you telling me that.”

There was calmness behind Kenma’s anger. Kuroo could see it clear as day as it brewed behind the surface.

“Oh my god,” Kuroo said, “Get over it already. If I want to

What were they fighting about?

“What?” Kuroo asked, stuffing some chips into his mouth.

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

Kenma wasn’t wrong. He knew exactly what he did to start this. He knew it while he was doing it. He knew better than to

Was it their bills? Kuroo’s work friends? Kuroo being mean about Kenma’s anxiety?

Kenma slammed the lid of the box down and Kuroo stood there, feeling ridiculous to be wearing his coat inside. It felt much worse to take it off so he left it on. Kenma grabbed another box and started filling that one too. Kuroo couldn’t move.

“Do you want the flags? I’m just going to throw them out anyway,” Kenma asked, his voice incredibly tough.

Was this actually happening? Kenma was really going to leave because Kuroo once again decided that he’d

What had they been arguing about?

“I don’t know,” Kuroo said, slowly, “Like I don’t remember at all.”

His therapist nodded.

“You’ve told me about so many fights you had and yet you don’t even remember what you fought about the day you broke up, which probably should have been the most memorable one.”

He remembered the night as clear as day- everything besides the content of the original fight. He could feel the exact outside temperature on his skin. He could see the pattern of beads on the floor from where they broke off the bracelet, but he couldn’t remember what on earth had started the fight.

“I can just remember that I didn’t think it was that bad in comparison to the many things I had done, or either of us for that matter, but it was definitely something I did.”

What was it? What had happened?

“I figured as much,” the therapist said, softly, “Don’t you think it’s a bit odd that after an argument so commonplace you can’t even remember it that Kenma just called it quits? I mean you guys had multiple arguments that would end relationships and Kenma stayed, but this one comparatively insignificant debacle was enough for him to do it? The Kenma who was so scared of confrontation and so deeply dependent on you left you after a fight so unimpressionable that you don’t remember it?”

Kuroo blinked. Once. Twice. Again.

“Um,” Kuroo said, an uncomfortable feeling taking over him.

“I mean, I don’t know for sure, but does that at least somewhat sound possible to you that Kenma was already starting to change?”

It sounded more than possible. In that moment, Kuroo knew that the feeling squirming inside of him was a realization of uncomfortable truth: Kenma had started to change while they were still together- and Kuroo didn’t notice. Not for a second.

“I think you’re right. I do think you probably are right,” Kuroo said, “I also think I’m proud of him for doing that.”

Kuroo was proud of Kenma for leaving him. What an odd, fucked up self-deprecating sentiment. He was proud of Kenma for leaving him. It wasn’t a lie either. It was an impressive show of strength on Kenma’s part.

“Do- do we need to discuss that?” his therapist asked, “That’s a loaded statement and-“

Kuroo shook his head.

“No. It’s fine. Someone needed to do it. We weren’t going to get better, as hard as that is to admit,” Kuroo said, “As hard as it was to go through. I was too much of a coward to get better or end it, but Kenma wasn’t, and Kenma changing on his own wouldn’t have fixed it. It was the correct course of action.”

His therapist nodded.

“Sometimes it gets worse before it gets better.”

“I know and it is getting better. Sometimes I just don’t feel like I’m getting better enough,” Kuroo explained, “If Kenma fixed his shit all that time ago, I don’t stand a chance next to him.”

He felt painfully inadequate.

“It’s actually okay if you’re not at the same exact level yet,” his therapist said, “You’re both trending in the same direction.”

Kuroo let out a frustrated breath.

“I just- I don’t know- sometimes it feels weird. I’m used to loving Kenma as a different me and it’s different now,” Kuroo admitted, “Not bad, just different.”

“You see, people grow and change all of the time. As much as we like to think that we’re stagnant, it’s not really true. This affects couples. Couples grow in different directions all of the time, and that’s fine. What needs to happen is either an understanding that the distance is okay or that the distance will close eventually so it’s worth the time apart. The two of you had spent so much time growing so close in the same direction that when you started to split apart, you had no idea how to handle it.”

“When we were little, he was all I had,” Kuroo admitted, “And then for a while I was all Kenma had. We spent so much time growing in close quarters. Then we moved in to our own place and had space to grow in different corners.”

“Exactly, and now you’re growing together again,” he said, “And maybe you think Kenma’s growing far ahead of you. I don't know if I agree, but I also don’t live with either of you, so I don’t know. What I do know is that now you can make that distance work until you catch up.”

That seemed oddly doable for once.

“Do you think the purpose of probation was for me to catch up?” Kuroo asked, “Or at least get comfortable with the distance?”

His therapist looked taken aback as if Kuroo had come to him with an earth shattering truth. Kuroo couldn’t help but smile the tiniest bit- he won therapy.

He should probably have felt heavy after their discussion of a pretty difficult realization, but instead, Kuroo felt weightless. Kenma was right. They both had exactly what they needed to make this work again. Kuroo was working on it. Kenma had been working on it even longer. Kenma was better. That was okay. He’d hold Kuroo accountable. Kuroo would get better. It was all going to be okay.

“I think you might be onto something.”

“Cleaning is dumb and people should be here within an hour, so it’s essentially too late to clean more anyway,” Kenma said, “Why don’t we bang out a round of Mario Kart?”

After watching Kenma spend the first half of the time they spent cleaning shirtless, Kuroo wanted to bang out a round of something else. He had a sneaking suspicion that was Kenma’s intention and was disappointed when he eventually got dressed for the event.

“Sure. Old school?”

They moved oddly quickly towards the couch as if they had seconds rather than an hour to play a few rounds. Kenma set up at lightning speed, handing Kuroo his controller. It didn’t take long for them to get enraptured.

They played mostly in silence save for Kenma’s little noises. Kuroo was, of course, in second place, but he was actually giving Kenma a run for his money for once.

The win screen flashed to the podium showing their places.

“Oh my god. Hang on,” Kenma said, amusement ripe in his voice.

Kuroo looked over at him. He was adorable, eyes sparkling with some form of mischief.

“Hang on?” Kuroo asked.

He slid his arm around Kenma’s shoulders as Kenma manually selected a course. Kuroo wasn’t quite sure what the significance of it was- it was an in-between difficulty and neither of their favorite or least favorite tracks.

“Stop before the bridge.”

Kenma was practically vibrating with joy and Kuroo wondered just what on earth about the old ass course on the old ass console got him so amused.

“You can’t get me to lose that easily,” Kuroo said, “Not buying any of this stop at the bridge nonsense during a race.”

Kenma elbowed him.

“I’m being serious,” Kenma said, veering close to a pout.

“Okay, fine, fine.”

Kuroo leaned his head to the side. It didn’t help his playing, but it got him closer to Kenma and that was more of what he wanted anyway. Kenma got to the bridge first and stopped before the speed boost strips. Kuroo followed his lead.

“Okay,” Kenma said, “So some old speedrunners were playing this level through and found that on this bridge if you launch yourself super far to the left that it actually puts you way closer to the end because it thinks you fell off on the later track instead of the bridge and I’ve been trying so hard to get it. It’s hard but possible.”

He explained this all rather animatedly, gesturing at the TV with his controller.

“Okay, so where am I aiming?”

Kuroo readjusted his arms so he could try really hard to get this to work for Kenma. He wasn’t the best at video games, but maybe he would have a stroke of luck.

“Okay, okay, watch this,” Kenma said, focusing intently on the launch angle.

Kenma’s character flew through the air, heading towards the edge of a cliff.

“So is it-“

“Wait,” Kenma said, leaning forward, closer and closer to the TV, “No, never mind.”

He hung his head in defeat as the game reset him right before the bridge.

“Have you actually successfully done this before?” Kuroo asked.

“Yes, once, at four in the morning like a week ago, so maybe I hallucinated it.”

It would be the perfect time for Kuroo to do it and have the bragging rights of the century. He tried to parrot Kenma’s angle and Kenma spoke adjustments out loud. He didn’t get it, though Kenma said he seemed pretty close.

They focused on the screen, throwing themselves at that point, over and over again, some closer and some less. Kuroo was pretty sure they wouldn’t be able to get it before their guests arrived. As each jump went on, he also began to doubt that it was even possible to do in the first place.

“Wait, is this about right?” Kuroo asked, watching as his character hit the edge of the cliff and started tumbling down.

He felt one of Kenma’s hands close around his wrist.

“Oh, that’s dead on,” Kenma whispered, “Come on. Come on.”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” Kuroo said, each word building in excitement as they waited.

Sure enough, the game reset him to the later track.

Kenma straight up screamed, pulling his controller to his chest. The wired connection was pulled taught, snagging the console forward a pinch as his screaming turned into unbridled laughter.

“Oh my fucking god, let’s go,” Kenma chanted through the cackling, “You fucking crushed it. You did it!”

The laughter was contagious and Kuroo couldn’t help but laugh as well, practically giggling as their characters sat motionless. He looked over at Kenma who was just clearly over the moon about this stupid speed running strategy for an all but defunct game and looking at Kuroo like he set the sun and the stars in the sky.

Kuroo couldn’t breathe all of a sudden as he stared. Every cell in Kenma’s body was beautiful. His mischievous eyes, his skilled hands, his long hair, his soft skin, his amused lips, his low voice, his little nose, his easy laugh, his smooth muscles, his irresistible tummy, his genius mind, his hilarious truth- it was all perfect. Kuroo was infatuated. He could never see another human being again for the rest of his life and he wouldn’t notice or care because he was blessed by fate to belong to the only person that mattered. His throat constricted as he considered tossing all of their restrictions and negotiations to the side. He would call his landlord right then and there and tell him that he was moving out. He would make grand declarations of love. He would talk about their future. He would worship Kenma’s mind and body like it was his only job. He would-

“You all good?” Kenma asked, clearly putting effort into lowering his affect so he could ask.

“I get it now,” Kuroo said.

“I know,” Kenma said, calm but still with great amusement bubbling below the surface, “It’s so fucking stupid but you did it, you pulled it off. I can’t-“

“Not that,” Kuroo said.

He hit pause and tossed his controller on the ottoman. Kenma looked at him quizzically. It was adorable- every single line of his face was adorable.

“Then what?”

“The hot tub,” Kuroo said, “You knew better than to kiss me. You probably even explicitly told yourself you shouldn’t kiss me.”

He watched Kenma’s expression lose its cheer. He didn’t want that to happen- explicitly didn’t want that to happen- but he had to say this. He had to do this.

“Mhm. We all know I have a penchant for poor decisions, but I don’t for a second regret it,” Kenma said, slowly placing his controller on the ottoman next to Kuroo’s, “And what about it?”

“I’m going to kiss you.”

Kenma’s eyes brightened immediately.

“I’m not going to stop you,” Kenma said, his voice speeding up, “If you need a voice of reason you should probably walk away and call someone.”

Kuroo relished in the way that Kenma’s excitement started coming off him in waves again, all for an opportunity to kiss Kuroo. It looked like it was the best moment of his life. If Kuroo hadn’t made up his mind already, that would have been more than enough on its own.

“No need.”

He gently tilted Kenma’s chin and brought their lips together for a short, sweet kiss. They’d probably kissed thousands of times before, but Kuroo’s stomach flipped regardless.

Kuroo pulled back and Kenma laughed a bit.

“What?” Kuroo prompted, tucking a strand of hair behind Kenma’s ear.

“Our list of first kisses is becoming ridiculously long,” Kenma explained, “Because this kinda feels like a first kiss too like after the first first kiss and then the second first kiss.”

Kuroo leaned in and kissed him again. Kenma was right. There was just something so electric about them- every kiss was memorable. Every kiss was everything and yet never enough. They were made to close the distance between them.

“We can just keep having them. It’s fine with me.”

Kenma laughed quietly and leaned in again, but the doorbell rang through the house.

“Horribly rude party guests showing up to the party at the time they were invited to show up at,” Kenma said, diverting to kiss Kuroo on the cheek before standing up.

Kuroo never thought he’d be so disappointed to go greet people he intentionally invited over and even wanted to see.

Chapter Text

“So,” Kenma asked, folding his hands on the table, “When can I see what’s in the box in the closet.”

Some combination of Akaashi, Fukunaga, and Bokuto set a box in the front hall closet and forbade Kenma from going in there to open it. Kuroo wasn’t quite sure who was responsible for it as he was in the kitchen setting up the first round of snacks, but Hinata hadn’t arrived by that time, so he wasn’t the culprit.

“Good things come to those who wait,” Fukunaga said.

“And if the things I’m waiting for are in a box in the front hall closet, their contents will not change if I am waiting or not,” Kenma said, “It’s not raw meat in an oven, right? Because then, good things would come to only those who wait and not those who don’t wait, but it would also be a whack ass thing to put in my closet.”

“The meat of prosperity must age,” Fukunaga replied, “In your closet and otherwise.”

“And what is the meat of prosperity?” Kenma asked.

“For us to know and you to find out,” Akaashi said.

“Wait. Who is us?” Kenma asked.

He handed Kuroo a deck of cards. Kuroo immediately got to work shuffling and dealing them out.

Kuroo locked his phone. Nothing of importance was in his notifications as per usual. He looked over at Kenma to see that he had just finished collecting all of the cards from the table.

“No,” Kuroo said, brushing Kenma’s hands with his own as he tried to take the cards from him, “Give.”

“I can shuffle and deal, you know?” Kenma said, handing him the deck, “Like I am mentally, physically, and psychologically capable.”

Kuroo gently caressed his cheek.

“Not when I’m around,” Kuroo said, “Rest your pretty little fingers.”

Kenma sent him a crooked smile.

“I love you so much.”

“Everyone,” Akaashi answered.

Kenma looked at Kuroo with a betrayed expression.

“Everyone but me,” Kuroo said, still tossing cards into piles, “The only thing I deal is cards. I am no meat dealer.”

“Oh, really?” Kenma asked, his eyebrows shooting up, “That’s not true in my experience.”

It took Kuroo a minute to realize what Kenma meant, but once he did, he felt himself go red.

Oh. So that’s how that felt.

Feeling hazy, he looked down at Kenma who seemed to be thinking the exact same thing, his kiss swollen lips parted ever so slightly.

“Fuck,” Kenma mouthed. He reached both of his hands up to touch Kuroo’s face, “Go ahead. I’m ready.”

“Gross,” Hinata said.

“Behave for once, would you?” Bokuto said, smiling over at Kenma.

“What in the fuck do you think you’re doing?” Akaashi asked.

He tried to sound angry but his expression gave way to amusement as Fukunaga free-throw style tossed another brie bite at Akaashi’s martini glass.

“Cheese and olives were meant to become one,” Fukunaga responded.

In his defense, they had all determined the brie bites didn’t come out that well, so they’d mostly given up on eating them.

“Wait a minute,” Bokuto said.

He grabbed a bite and dipped it into Akaashi’s martini before shoving the whole thing into his mouth in one go.

“Ew,” Akaashi said, sliding his glass towards Bokuto, “Congrats. You’ve won a drink.”

“Fucking delicious,” Bokuto garbled through a mouthful of cheese.

The realization that the group had gotten really close wasn’t lost on Kuroo. Sure, he was always really close with Akaashi and Bokuto and Kenma was always really close with Fukunaga and Hinata and the couple were friends with the other’s friends, but the group as a whole unit had never been that close.

“Yeah, uh, I’m taking off,” Kenma said, slipping his coat on.

Kuroo glanced at his phone. They’d only been there for an hour.

“No prob-“ Bokuto started.

“I’m not ready to leave yet,” Kuroo said, “And we drove together.”

There was a long moment of awkward silence as he stared Kenma down. They were attending as a couple. It only seemed fair to discuss their departure as one too.

“I can come swing by and pick you up when you’re done,” Kenma said, his voice low.

Kenma had no responsibilities the next day. There was no reason he couldn’t hang out with them for a while longer. They were his friends too.

“Just stay. Who cares?”

Kenma glanced down at the floor.

“I’m just, uh, you know-“

“I’m sure he’s exhausted,” Akaashi said, “All he does is work.”

Kuroo tried not to roll his eyes. He also worked all the time, but he wasn’t leaving events early. He was the more fun friend and yet they always chose Kenma over him.

“Why do y’all always take his side?” Kuroo asked.

“There are no sides,” Akaashi said, slowly, “This isn’t a war.”

He also realized rather quickly that they probably became close because of the breakup. He couldn’t put his finger on a specific moment of conversation as evidence, but the timing lined up and he got the impression that their closeness was born out of a need to protect Kenma, to step up and take care of him after the split.

“It was a mess without the two of you here,” Nekomata said, “But we did make some good progress. Please brief with your captain while you’re changing about the new play we’re working on.”

Kuroo could see Kenma flinch out of the corner of his eye and he knew exactly why. Kenma was supposed to have been at practice. He even told Kuroo he had been at practice. Kuroo was missing because he had a doctor's appointment. Kenma didn’t have any actual excuse.

“Yes sir,” Kuroo said, “We will go do that now.”

Kenma nodded at Nekomata and the coach gestured for them to leave.

“Did you ditch practice?” Kuroo asked.

A small part of him felt like Kenma ditching made him look bad like he was lying about why he wasn’t there. He tried to ignore it.

“Oh for sure. I didn’t wanna do this shit. It’s that dumb play they’ve been talking about forever.”

The words were correct but the tone wasn’t.

“Alright just lie to me I guess,” Kuroo said, bumping his shoulder into Kenma’s.

“I cannot survive this without you here.”

He was surprised, both at the content of the truth and the plainness with which it was uttered.

Kuroo couldn’t help but think about the fact that he had lost all of his friends to Kenma in the divorce. Well, all of them but Bokuto, and even then, their conversations were much more sparse than they ever had been. It said a lot about their failed relationship that they nearly unanimously sided with Kenma. Did Kenma ask them to?

As much as the entire situation felt like salt in a wound, it was probably for the best. He knew Kenma. He knew just how lonely Kenma got, how acutely empty he felt even when things were good sometimes. As much as Kuroo suffered after the breakup, he knew Kenma would have had it so much worse, and he was grateful that all of those people stepped in to take care of him. A part of him wished that he would have had someone too, but it was outweighed by the other sentiment. He felt the nerves behind his eyes and nose start to tingle in the way they always did right before he was about to cry. Other people had to protect the man he loved the most because he ruined him.

He had to stop thinking about it.

“Right?” Kenma asked, leaning into Kuroo.

What had they been talking about?

“Yeah, for sure,” Kuroo said, hoping he didn’t agree to something unfortunate.

Kenma moved a hand to gently pat his thigh and Kuroo casually set his hand on top of it. He felt better, almost instantaneously. The night was going fine. He would show his old friends that he became better, that he deserved his spot at game night. He would show them that he deserved Kenma and that was something he knew he was capable of doing. Kuroo considered leaning over and kissing Kenma to begin the evidentiary meeting, but ignored the desire- it was probably a bit more PDA than Kenma was comfortable with.

“Wine,” Kuroo said, handing the glass to Kenma, “Tip for the delivery guy?”

He leaned in to kiss Kenma, but he saw the panic pop onto his face and backed away.

“Oh my god,” Kenma whispered, “We’re with other people right now.”

“Oh. Sorry,” Kuroo said, smiling at him apologetically, “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

“It’s no worries,” Kenma said, glancing away, “Just feels really weird to me. I don’t know.”

“All good,” Kuroo said, stifling the urge to lean in and kiss him.

It was going to be a long night if every few minutes his mind begged him to pick up kissing Kenma where he left off.

“It’s your turn now that Shouyou’s gone,” Kenma said, “The oven’s preheated. Just throw the pan in.”

Bokuto got up excitedly and walked out of the room to complete his task. Kuroo was pretty sure that he was simply thrilled that Kenma trusted him to do it. Kenma also got up, casually moving towards the other side of the room. His face was a billboard to Kuroo, and that billboard was clearly displaying that Kenma was about to find out what was in the front closet once and for all. Despite being the party planner, Kuroo had no vague idea what it was either.

Kenma’s eyes met Kuroo’s and there was a moment of recognition before Kenma twitched his eyebrow and just barely pressed his lips into an ‘o’ shape. That one was easy for an expert at reading Kenma. He was about to make a break for it and he was silently shushing Kuroo.

Kuroo nodded slightly in acknowledgment and took a sip of his beer. The birthday boy was free to go.

Kenma had a few steps of a head start before the others finally noticed what was happening. Fukunaga was the first one who stepped into action and he sprinted full speed across the room to get to Kenma. Akaashi followed in a graceful jog. Kuroo realized it was his duty as Kenma’s boyfriend to stop them from getting to him, but not before they’d already gotten past him.

“No!” Kenma quickly exclaimed before grabbing at the door handle.

Kenma was able to grip the doorknob and turn, but the sticky mechanism prevented him from wrenching the door open before Fukunaga got to him. He wrapped his arms around Kenma’s torso to pull him back and Kuroo could see that it was a struggle for him to do it. Kenma refused to let go of the door handle and even sent his other elbow back into Fukunaga’s side.

“I wanna see,” Kenma whined, finally losing his grasp on the doorknob, “Unhand me.”

Kuroo couldn’t help but notice that Kenma chameleoned his statement to Fukunaga’s dialect. It was something he’d been noticing Kenma do for years, and something he found rather endearing.  

“We gave you a single edict to abide by,” Fukunaga responded, his voice strained, “You’re not above the law even in your own land.”

Kenma was doing his best to escape, wriggling around and throwing elbows. Kuroo was pretty sure he was even trying to kick Fukunaga in the shins. A ridiculous jealousy flared through Kuroo. He wanted to be the one restraining Kenma. He wanted his arms around Kenma. He wanted to kiss Kenma again. He wanted both at the same time. He could just go over there and move Fukunaga out of the way. There was no way Fukunaga could stop him.

“You gonna help?” Fukunaga asked, looking over at Akaashi, his voice notably strained.

Akaashi simply strode over and grabbed Kenma’s wrists, pulling them firmly over his head until they were extended enough that he could no longer use his elbows as weapons. From Kuroo’s point of view it was both rather effective and notably disrespectful.

“Are you done?” Akaashi asked.

“I’m not a child,” Kenma whined childishly.

“You have the impulse control of one,” Akaashi said, teasingly, “You can find out what’s in the box when we tell you.”

Kenma looked like he really wanted to cross his arms, but was unable to for obvious reasons.

“Fine,” Kenma said, “So, are you gonna free me or are we just going to stand like this until one of us passes out?”

Kuroo wanted to go intervene, but inexplicably felt like it wasn’t his place to do so. Why did he feel like such an outsider?

“Are you going to leave the box alone?”

“Yeah. I know when I’ve been beat. I’ll leave it alone,” Kenma said, probably convincingly enough to work on Akaashi, but Kuroo knew better.

The others may have gotten close with Kenma, but nobody knew Kenma like he did, and nobody ever would.

Akaashi released his wrists and Kenma immediately tried to twist out of Fukunaga’s grasp. Kuroo saw the move coming from a mile away. Unfortunately for Kenma, Akaashi was fast enough to grab hold of his wrists once more.

“Let’s get you back to your seat,” Fukunaga said, awkwardly trying to lift him and walk forward at the same time.

Kenma wasn’t exactly helpful, but he also stopped fighting the two of them as they dragged him back to the table, one yanking him by the wrists and the other shoving from behind.

“Woah,” Bokuto said as he walked back into the room, “I’m pretty sure I’ve seen this video before.”

“Enough of that,” Kenma said, closing the tab, “Can we play the game Bokuto brought now?”

Kuroo immediately reached over to grab the game’s box and start unpacking it.

“You turn the stream back on,” Akaashi said.

It was the third week in a row of the announcement of the big entertainment award nominees. Fukunaga scored a novice level nomination for his comedy tour. Akaashi’s project team scored an intermediate level nomination for a manga they’d just released. It was finally the announcement of the third, final, and highest tier of nominees. Kenma would likely be in-between the second and third tiers, but did not score a nomination in the second tier.

“It’s my own birthday and I get to choose what we do. And what I don’t want to do is watch some guy list a bunch of names,” Kenma said, “No offense. I’m really proud of you two but I don’t want to watch. I’d rather just google it later.”

Akaashi turned his attention to Kuroo. Unlike Kenma, it didn’t take years of friendship to read his expression. He was clearly attempting to get across that if Kuroo didn’t get that stream back on, his body would not be found. Loud and clear. Kuroo set down the pieces he was holding.

“You know,” Kuroo said, casually rubbing his hand between Kenma’s shoulder blades, “I do kinda want to watch the rest of the stream if you don’t mind.”

He’d been hesitant about touching Kenma in any obvious way while the others were around, but he also didn’t want to be cremated premortem, so he had to pull out all of the stops. With a look that indicated ‘you’re supposed to be on my side’, Kenma turned the stream back on.

“Okay great, it’s on,” Kenma said, “Let’s now do anything else.”

Kuroo could feel a tiny undercurrent of sadness in his voice - clearly he didn’t think he was going to get a nomination. It took all of Kuroo’s willpower not to turn off the stream and wrap Kenma into an embarrassingly long hug. Kenma deserved a nomination, but it was a rather competitive award and snubs were somewhat common. Forcing him to watch that happen on his birthday would be brutal. Kuroo prayed that Akaashi was correct because going along with it would be a mistake Kuroo would have to pay for if he wasn’t.

“Okay,” Kuroo said, “Y’all help me set this up.”

They worked in silence for a moment, organizing the unbelievably large amount of pieces on the board as Kenma read through the rules. According to Kenma, he was their designated rules explainer. Bokuto had the reading comprehension of a tween and Hinata’s wasn’t much better. Fukunaga tended to prefer improvising the rules to make the game more entertaining as he saw fit, but Akaashi, however, was apparently the worst out of them. Allegedly, he clearly understood what he was reading, but was horrible at explaining it, and subsequently got all pissy with the others when they weren’t understanding what he was saying.

“This looks so fun,” Kenma said, flipping the page.

There was a moment of intense silence as they all pretended not to listen as the master of ceremony started announcing the nomination list for live streaming, the category Kenma would be situated in. There were only five people per category, but it felt like an eternity getting through the first four handles, none of which were Kenma’s. Kuroo could feel the tension in the air as they went. Finally, they announced the last nominee in the category- Kodzuken.

“Oh, shit,” Kenma said, “Oh my god.”

Kuroo was familiar with the honor. The JVA had lobbied to have them expand the awards to contain a sports category that they could co-sponsor, but it was to no avail. It was a prestigious accomplishment, for all three of them, but Kenma in particular for being nominated at the highest level. His number of followers probably grew the second his name was announced. They all shared congratulations, over and over again, with Kenma reminding both Akaashi and Fukunaga that their nominations were really impressive as well.

Kuroo wanted to kiss Kenma again in congratulations, so badly, the urge rising by the moment, but instead he just put his arm around him and kissed his temple. Just as their conversation started to veer off topic, Akaashi spoke up again.

“So, you can open the closet now,” he said to Kenma.

“Well, now I don’t wanna,” Kenma said, crossing his arms, “You’re really bossy today and it's harshing my mellow.”

Kenma was so damn stubborn. Kuroo set a hand on his thigh in moral support. He might have taken Akaashi’s side originally, but it was time to return to the side he belonged on.

“Fine, then don’t find out what it is,” Akaashi said, “Makes no difference to me. It can rot in there for all I care.”

Kenma made a show of uncrossing his arms and picking up the instructions again.

“So the play starts with the player who-“

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Bokuto said, getting up.

They watched as he wandered over to the closet and pulled out the box. He set it down in front of Kenma and opened the lid to reveal a cake. Kuroo leaned over to get a better look at it and saw that it was really well decorated, precise calligraphy congratulating Kenma on his nomination.

“How did y’all know?” Kenma asked, his voice the tiniest bit cloudy.

“What’s a coronation without the king?” Fukunaga asked.

The softness in Kenma’s eyes made Kuroo want to kiss him. Maybe it wasn’t the softness in his eyes. Maybe he just wanted to kiss Kenma. It seemed to be a newly occurring and rather insistent pattern. Instead of removing all of the guests from the house so he could place his lips where they so notably belonged, Kuroo simply got up to grab a knife and some plates so they could serve the cake.

“That’s a very interesting way to say that the two of you hacked the nomination system, so you could find out if Kenma was nominated,” Bokuto pointed out, “And then scared the baker shitless not to tell anyone about the nomination.”

“For real?” Kenma asked, an amused smile taking over his face, “Wait, not a chance you can hack anything.”

“Kash,” Kenma said, looking up from his laptop at the TV, “What’s going on over there?”

Akaashi set the controller down on his lap, dejectedly.

“I wanted to play this interesting new puzzle game my mother bought me, but I can’t seem to get the controller hooked up to the console.”

Kuroo watched Kenma’s eyes dart to the controller.

“Have you tried turning it on?” Kenma asked, slowly.

“Well, no, there’s no reason to turn it on and have it waste batteries if it isn’t going to connect,” Akaashi said as if it was a rather obvious sentiment.

“I see.”

Kenma shot Kuroo the longest most exasperated look until Akaashi decided to turn the controller on, which shockingly led to it connecting immediately.

“Well, we knew you’d be nominated, obviously,” Akaashi said, “We just wanted to make sure before we bought a cake or else it’d be kinda awkward.”

Kenma started slicing into the cake. Kuroo was impressed at how even the slices were.

“And you hacked the system how?” Kenma asked, clearly doubting the hacking story.

Akaashi looked like he didn’t want to admit to their plot, but Fukunaga spoke up in his stead.

“You see, you’ll be receiving an email from them with a username and password. Mine was ‘Fukunaga.Shohei.T1.’ and his was ‘Akaashi.Keiji.T2’ and we both had the same default password,” Fukunaga explained.

Kenma handed him a piece of cake.

“So you tried Kozume.Kenma.T3 and it worked I assume?” Kenma asked.

“It was his idea but I did the dirty work,” Fukunaga confirmed.

Kenma paused for a moment before recovering. He looked like he didn’t know how to handle the kind gesture and it made Kuroo want to lean over and-

“Thank you guys for going hacker mode on the website for me,” Kenma said.

Kuroo loved the party guests. He also loved hanging out with them. That being said, he wanted them all to leave immediately. As nice as the night was, all he wanted to do was kiss Kenma again, and there was only one straggler left.

“Haha, yeah,” Kuroo said, walking Bokuto closer to the door, “I’ll definitely do that.”

Maybe Akaashi would help a brother out and return to drag Bokuto to the car.

“Absolutely, man,” Bokuto said, “And I can get us tickets too for the show I was talking about. I’ll text you.”

“Yes, thank you! Please let me know how much I owe you and when the show is,” Kuroo said, “Really great to see you again.”

He wasn’t sure how he could more obviously signal that he wanted Bokuto to leave besides holding the front door open. He even felt a stroke of guilt about it- Bokuto was his friend- but Kenma had him in a chokehold. He knew Bokuto would probably even understand if he just came out and said it, but that tiny needle poked at him regardless.

“Yeah,” Bokuto said, finally stepping out of the doorway, “I think it’d be fun for you.”

He looked like he was going to say something else, so Kuroo had to put a stop to that.

“Yes. Thank you. Have a nice night,” Kuroo said, waving as he shut the door behind him.

Kenma moved fast, getting up on his toes and putting his arms around Kuroo’s neck. Kuroo’s plan was to actually ask Kenma if he could kiss him again first, but this worked just as well. The butterflies returned as Kuroo brought his lips to Kenma’s. In the back of his mind, Kuroo was concerned that one of their guests left something and would be back, but he had other priorities.

“Mm, about time,” Kenma whispered in between kisses.

Kuroo rocked them back and forth as they kissed. What started out as slow but light kisses slowly sped up until there was an undeniable sense of urgency behind them. He let Kenma tongue into his mouth, feeling like he was making a bad decision but in the best possible way. They were supposed to be careful and casual, but ignoring that fact felt much more fun.

Kuroo pulled back the tiniest bit and bent his knees.

“Up?” he asked, kissing Kenma’s forehead.

“Please.”

Kuroo waited for Kenma to move into position before bracing his hands below his beautiful thighs and helping him jump up. For a second, Kuroo thought they were going to topple over, but he quickly adjusted to the weight. He’d have to get in the habit of doing it again. He looked forward to getting into the habit of doing it again.

Kenma’s lips were back on his in an instant and it took everything within Kuroo not to grab his ass. That wouldn’t be very casual of him. Instead, he allowed himself to gently squeeze his thighs. He figured he could pretend it was to help keep their balance upright.

He kissed Kenma like it was all he knew how to do and felt one of Kenma’s hands go into his hair. He instinctually leaned into it, separating their lips for a moment. As he kissed Kenma again he wished he could put a hand in Kenma’s hair, but there was no way he could support Kenma with just one. Kenma’s hand abruptly clenched his hair and gently pulled his head back.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, ready to object, but Kenma just used the angle to kiss down his neck.

A breath of surprise- and a little something extra- freed itself from Kuroo’s lungs. His neck was really sensitive, but worse than that, they’d done this before, many, many times; Kenma knew every last spot. Kenma had found them all over the years and apparently his memory didn’t fail him, not even for a second. Kenma’s hand in his hair was nothing short of gentle, but it had him frozen still.

Kuroo had to focus his energy into squeezing Kenma’s thighs to prevent himself from making some rather crude noises. As it was, his legs were starting to feel weak, and he suddenly determined his jeans were too tight. He had to keep himself together. He had to keep it casual and he had to keep Kenma at bay. It wouldn’t be an easy task. It seemed like Kenma was dead set on getting anything he could.

“Kenma,” he whispered, whinier than he was happy with.

“Mhm?” Kenma hummed against his neck.

The innocence was easy to see right through. The once bashful man apparently grew into a menace if behind closed doors.

“Moving us,” Kuroo said.

He tried to move his head forward to kiss Kenma again, but it seemed like Kenma had other plans and got his other hand involved, pulling his head back once again.

“Move then,” Kenma said, licking a line up Kuroo’s neck, “I’m not going anywhere.

Once Kuroo took a step, Kenma’s grip on his hair loosened. It didn’t particularly mean much. Kuroo couldn’t focus enough to move Kenma out of the way anyway. He wanted those lips on his skin, despite just how much he knew he shouldn’t. Despite how much he knew he shouldn’t be moving Kenma to a bed. Despite not wanting to take this to the next level yet. Despite that morning not even planning on even kissing for a while.

Kenma would have to wait.

“Okay, so I know, okay, I went back on my no kissing thing, okay,” Kuroo said, breathing embarrassingly heavily as Kenma kissed at his neck, “And I know, I- I’m physically carrying you to the bedroom, but I still don’t wanna do any sex things, just kissing.”

Kenma playfully sucked a spot right in the corner of Kuroo’s chin.

“No terms and conditions. Lead. I’ll follow.”

Kuroo was originally planning on taking them to Kenma’s bedroom, but he changed his mind as he was making his way there. He wanted them in the guest bedroom. He wanted to have his room be the one where he could feel the memories, relive the moments again and again.

He sat Kenma down on the bed and for a brief minute Kenma refused to release his limbs from around him. Kuroo laughed the tiniest bit when Kenma finally let go of him with a playful pout on his lips. After grinning at the look, Kuroo sat next to Kenma and wound a hand in his hair, gently bringing their lips together. He took a moment to slow them down, kissing lightly against Kenma’s desperate lips. If they kept going at their original speed, they would end up in a dangerous place.

They kissed just like that until Kuroo’s lips went numb and his neck started to ache from the angle.

Kenma pulled back just far enough to speak and Kuroo immediately knew what he was going to ask.

They’d kissed before, but this was different. They were only little pecks, but now there were many, and all in a row, and they were longer, and there was tongue. His heartbeat was in his fingers, the fingers that were in Kenma’s hair. It was intoxicating, addicting, and Kuroo never wanted to stop.

There was only one problem.

“Um,” Kuroo said, pulling back, “My neck hurts from the craning down and to the side. Us being next to each other isn’t like I don’t know great logistically speaking.”

“Oh no,” Kenma said, quietly, “Sorry.”

“Oh, uh, don’t be sorry,” Kuroo said, caressing his cheek, “But maybe you could like sit in my lap. Well, facing me. Obviously you’d have to be facing me or it’d get worse.”

Kenma blushed heavily as he moved to straddle Kuroo’s lap, avoiding eye contact until just before their lips met again. Kuroo could feel his own cheeks light up as Kenma’s weight shifted in his lap.

“So, I can see that you’re-“ Kenma started.

The credits rolled and Kuroo grabbed the remote to turn the movie off. He turned his head to give Kenma a kiss. Within seconds Kenma flung himself around, kicking out his legs to straddle Kuroo.

Kuroo couldn’t help but laugh, deep in his belly. Kenma did the same, pressing his forehead to Kuroo’s.

“In a hurry today?” Kuroo asked once he got a hold of himself.

Kenma did use his lips to answer, but they didn’t utter a single word.

“Go ahead,” Kuroo said, already moving back so Kenma wouldn’t be too close to the edge of the bed.

The straddling didn’t have to be sexual. It was just for neck comfort. Their unbelievably slutty height difference did have its occasional downside.

Kenma’s lips were back on his the same second as he sat down, wrapping his legs around Kuroo’s back. Kuroo kissed him gently until he felt Kenma’s hands tugging on his sweater’s hem. Kuroo mentally cursed because he knew this had to stop.

“Mm,” he said, pulling back, “Clothes stay on.”

The frustration in Kenma’s eyes would only be hidden to someone who didn’t know him as well as Kuroo did. He clearly wanted to be ravaged, but Kuroo wasn’t giving him that, nor would he for a while. Kenma would simply have to survive. Kuroo wondered if the apparent horniness came with the new Kenma territory.

“Mkay,” Kenma said, slipping his hands under Kuroo’s sweater, but just barely ghosting a touch on his skin, “Is this okay? Or no? No is okay if so.”

Kuroo hesitated for a moment. That tiny insignificant sliver of a touch was enough to make him shiver. Kenma’s fingers belonged on his skin, but they very much needed to stay away.

Was it okay, though? Was it too much? A gateway drug? A slippery slope?

They were on a large circular rock, hurtling through space and time, spinning on a crooked axis. Of course it was okay. Who the fuck cared?

“Sure.”

Kenma’s hands immediately went to Kuroo’s lower back, teasing little touches here and there. Kuroo’s hands were in Kenma’s hair. His lips were on Kenma’s lips. Everything was as it should have been.

He let himself get lost in the many moments that followed, feeling Kenma’s fingers draw abstractly all over his skin. He found his own hands wandering down to Kenma’s hips, holding onto him over his clothing.

Something about it was unexpectedly pure, endearingly innocent. It was as if they were early in their first relationship all over again, kissing forever because it was the only thing they were brave enough to do. There was no end goal of nudity or getting off- well, Kuroo didn’t have that goal anyway- there was only the present. The present felt good. There was nothing on his mind but Kenma, kissing Kenma, feeling Kenma against his skin. It was all he wanted to do, kiss like his life depended on it, kiss like it could undo every miserable moment they’d shared, kiss like it was his last chance.

Kuroo again anticipated the question before it was spoken out loud. They knew each other so well. Sometimes it seemed crazy that they ever split at all when they worked in such perfect harmony.

Kenma’s lips were sluggish against his. It made sense. They’d been kissing for hours and it was getting rather late. Kenma lazily kissed him back, his hands barely in Kuroo’s hair. It made sense that Kenma’s eyes were closed because they were kissing, but he could also tell they would be drooping from exhaustion either way.

“Need to go to bed?” he asked.

“Don’t wanna,” Kenma said, breaking into a yawn.

“See?” Kuroo said, gently rubbing his lower back, “You’re tired!”

“But I don’t wanna stop,” Kenma said, rubbing his eyes.

“Let’s at least lay down then,” Kuroo said, “Come here.”

“Mhm,” Kuroo hummed.

Kenma pushed Kuroo by the chest backward onto the bed. It wasn’t rough but it certainly wasn’t docile. Kuroo was caught off guard as Kenma grabbed his hands and pinned them by his ears. So much for ‘lead. I’ll follow.’

As Kenma leaned forward, staring straight into Kuroo’s soul, Kuroo felt something poke against his stomach, something he was more than familiar with.

It was all so much. Kenma taking charge. The pinning of the hands. The look. The press of the hips. The press of something else. Everything. It was everything. Everything all at once.

“What?” Kenma asked, a teasing tone indicating that the everything was beginning to show on Kuroo’s face.

How was Kuroo supposed to stop this runaway train?

“Put that thang away,” Kuroo said, huffing a laugh as he made a show of glancing down at Kenma’s crotch.

Kenma immediately freed Kuroo’s hands and pressed his face into Kuroo’s chest to cover his eyes in embarrassment. Kuroo knew that it stemmed from the comment rather than the sexual situation for once in Kenma’s life.

Problem solved.

Chapter Text

Kuroo‘s laugh was deep enough that the movement bounced Kenma, who was lying with his face buried in Kuroo’s chest. Kuroo gently ran a hand over his beautiful hair. When Kenma first started growing it out, Kuroo missed the bleach, but as it got longer, he appreciated Kenma’s natural color. It was beautiful on him and the changing ratio of dark hair to bleach felt like a way to measure the time they spent together.

“Why would you say it like that?” Kenma whined into Kuroo’s sweater.

“Because I had no better solution to de-horny you,” Kuroo explained, “I told you, no nudity allowed.”

“This sucks.”

Kuroo pat Kenma on the back.

“There, there,” he said in mock comfort.

He had no idea that cockblocking Kenma would be so entertaining. He felt Kenma’s hands go to his shoulders, tracing his muscles.

“I want to bang,” Kenma grumbled.

Kuroo snorted.

“You can’t even look at me and say that, huh?”

He was just teasing. It was a classic Kenma move and he expected nothing less.

Kuroo twisted around, using the back of his desk chair to crack his back. As he turned to crack the other side, he noticed Kenma looking at him somewhat intently from his place on the beanbag chair.

“You good?” Kuroo asked, cracking the other side of his back.

It felt incredible after a long day of working from home. The transition to having an office job was rough, and he still insisted he’d never get used to it, but being able to work from home once a week was helping significantly.

“Check your phone.”

Kuroo picked up his phone to see that Kenma had texted him about twenty minutes prior. It was a much longer text than it needed to be, a whole paragraph asking Kuroo if he wanted to have sex, filled with hedges of no big deal if not.

Kuroo closed his laptop.

“Why couldn’t you just ask me that?” Kuroo asked, looking over at him, “You really have been sitting there waiting patiently instead of saying anything?”

Kenma immediately averted his eyes.

“I don’t- I didn’t- it’s just weird is all.”

Kuroo could see the flush beginning to color Kenma’s cheeks. He couldn’t help but smile.

“Well, get up then,” Kuroo said, his voice low, “I’m about to fuck your brains out.”

Even though Kenma wasn’t quite looking at him, Kuroo could see his eyes widen.

Kenma sat up slowly, straddling Kuroo once again, his soft hands finding Kuroo’s cheeks.

“I wanna bang,” Kenma reiterated, more confidently that time.

“My eyes aren’t in my hair,” Kuroo teased.

Kenma swallowed. He looked like he was about to make a break for it, but instead he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to Kuroo’s, most certainly looking directly into his eyes.

“I want to fuck. Now.”

Somewhere, a hole was torn in the fabric of the universe. Kenma not only voiced a sex-related desire, but he did it while maintaining eye contact. Despite mostly finding it funny, Kuroo was genuinely proud of him. For a second, it almost felt cruel to deny him after that show of wherewithal.

“Oh shit,” Kuroo said, “You really are horny.”

He did his best to say it in a way that would most clearly indicate to Kenma that it wasn’t happening, regardless of how much eye contact he was able to successfully employ.

“Ugh.”

Kenma dramatically rolled off Kuroo and onto the bed beside him.

They’d been extensively touching for hours, but the instant the physical contact between them disappeared, Kuroo missed it. He somehow hadn’t gotten his fill, so he wandered a hand over to touch Kenma’s arm. It was a small point of contact, but it lessened the need for more.

“Looks like we gotta go see your therapist again,” Kuroo suggested.

“You still have Friday mornings flex?” Kenma asked, “I’ll take off.”

“You’re going to take off work just so we can bang?” Kuroo asked.

Being that Kenma was in charge of his workplace, taking off work was slightly less meaningful, but still impressive.

“So we can finally be free and just be together however we choose,” Kenma said, his own hand snaking over to touch Kuroo.

The prospect almost sounded scary, despite how much he wanted it and despite the fact that it was their goal all along. History would indicate they shouldn’t be trusted with freedom, but he knew deep down they would be just fine. The nerves were about the anticipation of change more than anything and at least he had a whole week to get his head straight before going.

“And so you can get laid,” Kuroo said.

Kenma laughed as he got up from the bed, finally and decisively separating their touch. Kuroo sat up instinctually as if to reach out for Kenma again, but his hands stayed down.

“I have at no point denied that,” Kenma pointed out.

“At least you’re honest with yourself,” Kuroo said, “But trust me. Next birthday? I got you.”

Kenma grinned a notably attractive grin which then faded into a sweet smile.

“This was a really nice birthday by the way,” Kenma said, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “Thank you for doing this for me.”

Kuroo glanced up at the birthday boy who was glaring machetes at him. Even the makeshift strobe lighting couldn’t hide his displeasure. Kenma couldn’t be serious. He glanced back down at his phone to confirm that Kenma had indeed sent him a text asking him to get rid of everyone or he himself would leave.

The party had practically just started. Everyone was reaching peak intoxication and the pounding of the beat was tantalizing. Kuroo wasn’t much of a dancer but his body was craving to move to the music.

“You’re fine,” Kuroo said, stepping close enough to pat his shoulder, “Wanna do more shots?”

Maybe the alcohol would help pad Kenma’s social ability.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” Kuroo said, feeling rather soft.

“I had a ton of fun,” Kenma confirmed, “And I can’t believe those assholes brought an entire cake.”

Kuroo saw shadowy figures and really hoped that one of them was Kenma. It looked like it might be so he started off in that direction.

“Oh, hey!” Kuroo shouted, stumbling down the block, “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

A shadowy figure took a step back from Kenma’s shadowy figure.

“Kuroo-san!” Hinata greeted with a wave.

“You should head back inside,” Kuroo told him, “Bo pulled out the jello shots.”

Hinata turned back to Kenma who was notably stonefaced.

“Ready to go back in?” Hinata asked him.

“Enjoy the party,” Kenma said, wryly, “I’ll be anywhere else.”

Kenma deserved an enjoyable birthday party, even if Kuroo himself had a rather awkward time. He wanted to bring it up, the way that he felt like an unwelcome outsider to the group he was once an integral part of, but he didn’t want to bother Kenma about it, especially on his birthday. They could talk about it on a different day if Kuroo couldn’t put it behind him.

“The cake was a good touch,” Kuroo admitted, “And you clearly deserved it.”

“Alright. Enough buttering me up.”

“It’s true, though,” Kuroo said, “It’s a big deal to be nominated, and we’re all really proud of you.”

Kenma shifted his weight around, his facial expression indicating that he wouldn’t be accepting the compliment.

“Alright, I’m going to bed,” Kenma said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Sounds good, sweets. Sleep well.”

Kuroo frowned the tiniest bit as Kenma walked out. It hadn’t consciously occurred to him until Kenma shut the door behind him, but he was sad they weren’t spending the night in the same bed. It seemed like the perfect time to take that step, but apparently Kenma didn’t agree. A sad whimper nearly escaped him as he imagined waking up to Kenma.

When Kuroo started heading towards the kitchen, he expected that Kenma would still be sleeping, but the sound of the coffee maker indicated otherwise. Kenma had always been the later sleeper of the two, especially when there was nowhere to be in the morning. His presence was good, though. Kuroo needed to bring up the email he’d just received. He wasn’t particularly concerned about Kenma’s response. He was fairly sure he knew what Kenma would say, but he needed to ask regardless.

“Morning,” Kenma said, “I would say I’m making coffee but that’s pretty obvious given the loud boiling noises.”

Kuroo wondered why Kenma didn’t just buy a nicer brewer.

“Good morning.”

Kuroo sat down at the chair that had slowly become his, the one next to Kenma but just around the corner of the table. He liked the simultaneous closeness and the ability to look at him. He also liked that it was something else in Kenma’s house that felt like it belonged to him. It was Kuroo’s chair in Kenma’s house.

“Sleep well?” Kenma asked.

He tucked his long hair behind his ears and tossed the rest behind his back. It allowed Kuroo to notice that Kenma was wearing an oversized shirt- sadly one that didn’t belong to Kuroo. He felt a twinge in his chest. He really needed to get Kenma back into his clothing.

“Just put it on,” Kuroo said.

There was no reason for Kenma to be stubborn about it. They had a half mile to get back to their homes and Kenma was clearly freezing.

“I don’t wanna wear your clothes,” Kenma said, shooting him a look.

“It’s a hoodie not my underwear,” Kuroo said, tossing it at him, “I think you’ll survive.”

Kenma looked like he was going to let it hit the ground, but he instead caught it and put it on, wrestling with it for a moment.

“Happy now?” Kenma asked.

Kuroo opened his mouth to razz Kenma for letting his hubris catch him off guard without enough layers, but he closed it as his eyes took in the too long sleeves and the oversized hood. Kuroo swallowed.

Why was seeing his best friend wearing his hoodie making his mouth go dry?

It was vital. Regardless of the shirt not being his, the way that it was loose around Kenma’s neck, just barely exposing his collarbones, was getting to Kuroo. That tiny bit of skin was enough to melt his brain. His melted brain said to accidentally leave his hoodie in Kenma’s frontroom when he left for the day.

“I really want to kiss you. Is that okay?” Kuroo asked him, moving his eyes from his collarbone to his lips.

“Didn’t get enough yesterday?” Kenma asked, raising a playful eyebrow.

Kenma’s hand found Kuroo’s chin to pull him in. Kuroo let him do it, of course, and their lips were together again. It felt so right, so natural. It was almost like they’d kissed hundreds of times over the years.

“Yesterday was just one night,” Kuroo said, “I’m going to need more every day, I think.”

“Speaking of last night,” Kenma started, “I was thinking-“

“Woah. You know how to do that?”

The words formed and delivered themselves without permission from Kuroo. It was something he used to say to Kenma all of the time, a comment among the sea of comments used in their continuous playful splash fight, but they hadn’t done much of that since they’d gotten back together. Kenma’s collarbones were apparently powerful enough to send Kuroo’s brain back to a time where they bantered without a care and kissed with even less of one.

“Clearly not, because if I had been thinking last night, I wouldn’t have spent hours making out with you of all people.”

So Kenma also missed throwing waves. It was overdue for them to fall back into the habit.

“Oh, come on,” Kuroo said, “You love me.”

The teasing felt good. It felt good to assert that Kenma loved him and it felt good to tease in its own right.

“I do not-“ Kenma started, his index finger circling the air.

“Oh?” Kuroo asked, “You don’t love me?”

Kuroo saw on his face the moment he processed the words.

“You love me,” Kuroo teased, “You have a crush on me. You think I’m handsome.”

“I do not,” Kenma said, moving his board game piece the appropriate amount of spaces- Kuroo was counting.

“Kozume Kenma loves me,” Kuroo practically sang as he rolled his dice.

Kenma moved Kuroo’s piece for him, again the correct amount of spaces, clearly because he loved him.

“I do not, and at this rate?” Kenma said, handing Kuroo a card and grabbing his own dice, “I probably never will.”

“Then why are you blushing right now?”

Kenma rolled his eyes but blushed deeper.

“It’s embarrassment over dating you.”

“No, I do. I can’t say that,” Kenma said, “I do love you. I promise.”

Kuroo laughed at his immediate backtracking.

“It’s okay. I was just fucking with you,” Kuroo said, “One day we can tell each other we don’t love each other again.”

Kenma looked away, hurt taking over his expression, and then looked back at Kuroo.

“You really think we won’t love each other? All over again?” Kenma asked, something hidden in his tone.

Maybe that’s why they hadn’t resumed the teasing. They were quickly becoming less and less fragile, but that didn’t mean all of the sore spots had healed over.

“No, hey, of course not,” Kuroo said, wrapping his fingers around Kenma’s wrists, “The opposite. I just meant one day you can proudly proclaim you don’t love me and you won’t actually mean it and that we won’t even think twice about it because we both know it’s a joke.”

Kenma snorted and air immediately flew back into Kuroo’s constricted lungs. What an asshole.

“It’s okay. I was just fucking with you,” Kenma said with a wicked smile.

Kuroo clicked, releasing Kenma’s hand and then gently pushing against his chest.

“You’re a dick,” Kuroo said, getting up to get their coffee, “You know that. Right?”

Kenma simply nodded at him before yawning. At least he was aware. Kuroo tried not to smile as he poured them each a mug of coffee. He set Kenma’s in front of him and then sat back down. He couldn’t help but just look at Kenma as he breathed in the scent of the coffee. His eyes glanced from Kenma’s pretty fingers, to the damn collarbones, to his adorable cheekbones. The obvious staring might have felt a bit uncomfortable if he couldn’t tell that Kenma was also staring at him. He wondered if Kenma found him just as pretty as he found Kenma. He wondered what about him drew Kenma’s eyes. He wondered if there was anything truly beautiful about him.

“Can I kiss you?” Kenma asked, nonchalantly moving his hand closer to Kuroo’s shirt.

“If you must,” Kuroo said, awkwardly scooting his chair around the corner to get closer, “That can be arranged if you have to.”

“That’s not terribly enthusiastic,” Kenma said with a laugh.

Kuroo stood up entirely. He stepped behind Kenma’s chair and pulled it back and away from the table.

“Fine. You better kiss me,” Kuroo said, moving himself to sit in Kenma’s lap, “Or else.”

It had certainly been a while since he’d done that. He made a mental note to sit on Kenma’s lap more. There were so many things he was excited to do without taking them for granted ever again.

“If I must,” Kenma said.

He wrapped his arms around Kuroo’s neck and leaned in for a nose kiss. Kuroo smiled as their noses brushed each other and then he brought their lips together. It was just a kiss, nothing special really, but Kuroo felt an intent urge to sigh. He was filled to the brim with contentedness. A small part of his brain pointed out the insanity of sitting himself on Kenma’s lap when they were hardly awake at the breakfast table, but he ignored it. That young brazen love was a good thing, nothing to be ashamed about. He basked for a moment before remembering why he was ribbing Kenma for thinking in the first place. He pulled back.

"What were you trying to tell me? Before we got distracted?" Kuroo prompted, “Whatever you were thinking about last night?”

Kenma glanced down at Kuroo’s shirt.

“I just really like being with you. This feels like an absolute dream,” Kenma said, “You’re who I’ve always wanted.”

It caught Kuroo off guard and he choked up immediately. He wasn’t someone anyone would want the first time around, but it seemed like he was doing a much better job.

“Oh, I’m glad,” he said, bringing his lips to Kenma’s forehead.

Kenma’s hands grazed under Kuroo’s shirt, causing him to swoon.

“You make me so happy,” Kenma whispered, “I like the person I become when you’re around. It’s so exciting.”

Kuroo felt himself blush despite that fact that his brain tried to tell him that Kenma was lying, that nobody would be happier with him around. He knew he needed to quash the thought, so slid back into his own chair so he could take a moment to collect himself and settle his mind. Kenma genuinely enjoyed his company. It was not a mere pleasantry. It was true and he had to accept that.

“I feel the same way,” Kuroo said, setting a hand on Kenma’s thigh, “Every day I think about how lucky I am to have you in my life.”

Kenma shot him an adorably crooked smile before taking a sip of his coffee.

“This is just so good for us,” Kenma said.

They sat in silence for a moment, drinking their coffee and simply existing. It was a nice way to spend a morning. Kuroo looked back over at Kenma. It was time to bring it up.

“Oh, I meant to ask this earlier, but I got an email this morning,” Kuroo said, “I’m on my last eight weeks of my lease. I have like three weeks to let them know if I’m reupping.”

Kenma shrugged.

“Move in with me,” he said, “I’m free today. I can help you move in right now. I don’t even need to finish my coffee.”

Kuroo laughed. He hadn’t been vaguely concerned that Kenma would say no, but he also didn’t think Kenma would be so immediate about it.

“I don’t think your therapist would approve and I have eight weeks before I have to be out anyway, so it’s no hurry. Drink your coffee while it’s still warm.”

Kenma crossed his arms in a fake pout.

“You don’t want to move in with me?”

Kuroo grabbed one of Kenma’s hands and gently placed a kiss on it.

“I’ll move in the second we have permission from our probation officer.”

“You have always been a romantic,” Kenma said, freeing his hand to pat Kuroo’s hair.

The idea that they were about to put to rest the apartment they used to share was exciting. Setting it behind them forever and officially having a different space that belonged to both of them felt like an exhilarating step.

It was time to start fresh.

She was just a therapist and had sworn a professional oath not to harm her patients, but that didn’t mean she didn’t scare the shit out of Kuroo. He wiped his palms on his pants while he waited for her to speak.

“You each need to write a list, a manifesto, whatever you want to call it, and have the things that the other person needs to commit to if you want to seriously date again written down,” she said, “Then you can get back together and determine if it's something you’re willing to accept. If not, you can bargain, but eventually, you need to have something you both can agree to. It’s like wedding vows without the legality. It’s also good accountability and a way to check in on how your relationship is doing.”

“Can you give an example of how that’d look?” Kuroo asked, still trying to be her preferred patient.

“Absolutely,” she said, “If I were you, one of my things I would write is that ‘Even though Kenma is really lonely, the world does not revolve around him, so he needs to stop concerning himself if it takes me completely reasonable amount of time to text back.’”

“Hey, sweets!” Kuroo said, tossing his jacket on the couch.

After a long day of errands, he was glad to finally be home. More specifically, he was excited to come home to his lover. There was nothing that some cuddles from Kenma couldn’t fix.

”Where have you been?” Kenma asked, clearly an accusation.

Anger radiated from Kenma. Kuroo could practically feel the heat against his skin.

“Gas station. We were out of gas,” Kuroo said slowly.

“Why didn’t you answer my text?” Kenma asked, crossing his arms.

“I didn’t see it. I was only gone like thirty minutes later than I said I’d be. It was a long line.”

He spoke calmly, praying that Kenma would let it drop.

“Whatever.”

“That was one time,” Kenma objected, “And it was three hours. It took her three hours to text me back. Not one.”

It took Kuroo a second to realize Kenma wasn’t talking about him. A hilarious bit of jealousy poked at him for a second. It was rather misplaced- Kenma was allowed, and even encouraged, to text other human beings- but it was funny regardless.

“Sure, I’m sure you can't tell me how long it's been since each person in your life has texted you,” she said, leveling him with a stare.

“Fine,” Kenma said, looking like he was resisting the urge to put his head in his hands, “Fine. Can we talk about this when we don’t have a guest?”

Kuroo sat there awkwardly, trying to pretend like he didn’t exist.

“We will. Don’t worry,” she said, “Anyway, the things you ask can be super specific or super vague. You want to make sure that the things you choose are the ones that are the most important to you, things you really can’t live without. I would recommend that you set a time a day or two from now to finalize and share your manifestos if you think that’s enough time. I’d guess you’ve been with each other long enough now that it will be quick, but if not, it can be longer. Get together and talk them through, but don’t give a yes or no right away. Wait another twenty-four hours and then you can either give yeses nos or haggle a bit. It gives you time to really think clearly through what you want, what you need, and what you’re actually able to do, and you should do most of it alone. Does that make sense?”

“Sure,” Kuroo said, “Tomorrow afternoon and Sunday evening?”

“Can we do your place tomorrow?” Kenma asked, “I’m having some work done.”

Kuroo nodded.

“And we can do it at the game on Sunday if we don’t have too much to discuss,” Kuroo added, hoping there wouldn’t be too much to discuss.

“Perfect.”

There was a moment of silence before the therapist brought up another topic.

“Alright, so I’d be remiss if I didn’t point something else out. You need to very clearly talk about what steps your relationship will eventually take and when you want to take them,” she said, turning to look at Kuroo, “You don’t believe in marriage, right?”

“Uh, well, I guess you could put it like that.”

The sentiment was correct, but it wasn’t the best wording. He did believe in marriage, just that he believed it was a bad thing, binding two people together, removing the incentive to love. Kuroo figured that a couple that is stuck w together legally has no reason to continue putting effort into the relationship.

Kenma hadn’t outright discussed marriage with him, but the constant hinting and implications made it obvious.

The nonchalant comments of ‘this ring is pretty’ or ‘when we’re married’ needled at Kuroo.

He loved Kenma. He really did, but the idea of marrying him was deeply unnerving. His chest tightened, and he felt trapped. It would be the least trapped he’d feel if he eventually agreed to get married.

The wedding ring existed, but for him it was designed to take the care out of a relationship, not enhance it.

“But Kenma does. How are you two planning on rectifying that? I recommend discussing that before you make anything official,” she said, “How can you start a relationship if you disagree on the ending?”

Kuroo saw the solemn look on Kenma’s face and immediately knew which part of the assignment would be the most difficult.

Kuroo decided to turn his overhead light off, instead opting for the small lamp on his desk. It was getting late and the exhaustion was beginning to kick in. It sat heavy behind his eyes, pairing unfortunately well with the tension in his shoulders. He stared blankly at the paper in front of him, not caring to focus his vision enough to read the words. He already knew what they said and it wasn’t worth the strain on his eyes. He’d been looking at them for hours and hours on end, doing nothing but intently focusing on the task at hand. It was messing with his head and his eyes didn't fair much better.

It was both easy and impossible at the same time.

He absolutely knew what to request from Kenma in his manifesto. That wasn’t the issue. He’d written his requests down in a matter of minutes, confidently and quickly. It wouldn’t be a difficult rulebook for Kenma either. Essentially, it was a request that Kenma continue to be the Kenma that Kuroo had gotten the joy of knowing over the previous few months. Kenma had already come so far that he was already doing the things to make him a functional human being. All Kuroo wanted to do was underscore his appreciation for that work and encourage it not to fade. Beyond simply being better for their relationship, Kenma seemed happier. It would be a shame if being with Kuroo led to his regression. Kuroo’s list of demands for Kenma was fine.

The issue was the inverse, the laundry list of things that Kenma might ask of him.

He had to resist the urge to unlock his phone and call Kenma, to ask what of him needed to be cut out, because frankly, he didn’t necessarily know, and the things he did know, he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to remove successfully. He tossed his phone gently onto a folded blanket a few feet away so that he could keep it out of his hands. He didn’t need his subconscious taking over. He was supposed to do this part alone. He then finished his last bit of wine and tossed the empty bottle into the small garbage can below his desk.

Dread clawed at him. Sure, he’d worked on himself a bit. He went to therapy all the time and learned how to name all of his emotions and where he felt them. He learned where his anger came from and how to stave it off. He learned how to identify when his brain was lying to him and how to ignore it. He even got better at clearly expressing what he wanted, but he wasn’t sure it mattered. At the end of the day, he was a creature of habit and well stuck in his ways. He essentially grew up as an only child, without a mother, without any adult who truly cared about him. Each one of his traits was so deeply woven into who he was because his self was all he had for so many years. There was nobody to stop him from becoming him and there was nobody to help him become someone better.

Kuroo frowned.

That wasn’t quite right. He did have one other guiding force- Kenma. When they were broken up, the parts of him that were so clearly formed by Kenma haunted him, but now, they provided him with a sliver of hope, threatening to smother the bitter person he was on his own with something softer, something more human. He was a knockoff vase with a thin gold gilding. He supposed that at the end of the day, he’d either be able to reinforce the gold exterior well enough to remain whole, or one day he’d shatter, exposing all that desperately needed to stay hidden, never to be put back together.

He hated himself for the way that he was jealous that Kenma wouldn’t have to engage in the same perpetual balancing act as he did. It wasn’t Kenma’s fault that he wasn’t rotten deep down to his core like Kuroo was.

He dramatically pushed back in his chair. How could Kuroo expect Kenma to love him if Kuroo thought that his own self wasn’t worthy of love?

He checked the time. It was much later than he thought.

While the self-flagellation was incredibly cathartic, he knew better than to continue down the path. It was too late and he was in too poor of a mental state to think clearly, so he needed to stop thinking entirely. Abiding by that acknowledgment was the least he could do to fight off the very concept he was so concerned about. Doing better would be a possibility. He had to get a head start.

He leaned forward to shut off the lamp so he could get out of his home office. He needed to take a shower to dampen his self-hatred and then go to bed to sleep off his perception of being hated.

It occurred to him that he hadn’t even finished thinking through his thoughts on the trajectory of the relationship, the ones that concerned him the most.

With a deep breath in and out, he cleared his mind. He would take care of himself and return to the topic in the morning when he had a clear state of mind. He owed it to both of them.

Kuroo was so impressively nervous that even the inside of his mouth felt hot. His entire body was engulfed by the friction of what he wanted to happen scraping against what would realistically happen. He went to grab his list from the front pocket of his jeans, but he couldn’t will his fingers to move, so he just sat down on the small futon.

“Want me to go first or you?” Kuroo asked, trying and failing to sound indifferent.

He glanced at the posters on the wall of Kenma’s childhood bedroom. Kuroo had thought that Kenma’s parents turned the room into a guest room, but he was glad they hadn’t. It felt oddly comforting to go back to where their relationship started. They would awkwardly sit in Kenma’s room together for the conversation just like they used to all those years ago, but Kuroo knew what happened after that. They’d grow up together and grow together, but hopefully they could avoid the falling apart on the second attempt.

“Neither,” Kenma said, casually.

Kuroo wasn’t quite sure what to make of the response.

“Like, you wanna both go at the same time?” he asked.

Leave it to Kenma to have the best idea, one Kuroo hadn’t come close to discovering on his own. If they both went at the same time, it’d take some of the pressure off. When the words were already said, it’d be much easier to simply repeat them than break the initial ice. No wonder Kenma was a millionaire with golden ideas like that.

“Wrong kind of neither,” Kenma said, the words smooth and the tiniest bit teasing.

Kuroo paused for a moment as he watched Kenma run a hand through his short bleached locks. He was hoping that he could put together on his own what Kenma meant, but his brain wasn’t able to cut through the dense fog of confusion.

“What?” Kuroo asked.

His voice felt like it came from far away. He certainly uttered the word, but it didn’t register on the way out. He once again tried to grab his list, but his fingers stalled.

“As I made my list, I realized it was too flipping long,” Kenma said, “There’s no way you’ll ever be good enough for me, so what’s the point in giving you a chance to get your hopes up? Like watching an itty-bitty lab rat run day and night just to be scanned for the greater good and put to death.”

Kuroo blinked in a combination of disbelief and acute emotional pain. Apparently Kenma’s newfound confidence came with a biting cruel streak.

“Up and up just to crash down my friend,” Fukunaga said from his perch on top of Kenma’s dresser.

“Does he really have to be here?” Kuroo asked.

They were the only words he could form, despite somehow not pertaining to the more alarming part of the situation. He looked back at Kenma to see that he was wearing his uniform. Did they have a game?

“I only wish he was closer,” Kenma drawled, looking over at Fukunaga, “Come here.”

Kuroo was going to vomit. When had Kenma become that bold? Kenma never talked about Kuroo like that in front of other people. He hardly talked to Kuroo like that when they were alone. Kuroo ached to realize that the Kenma he wanted for himself was real, just for someone else.

“Kenma-“ Kuroo started.

Somehow, his name still felt holy.

“It’s over, Kuro,” Kenma said, practically sneering, “This is the humane ending for you. Trust me.”

He was angry, hurt, betrayed, and embarrassed, but knowing that he was losing Kenma was the deepest source of despair. He would do anything to keep Kenma. He couldn’t lose Kenma. He needed to keep Kenma. He would memorize the laundry list, the trilogy of requested changes. He would become the list.

He dropped himself to his knees so he could start properly begging, but instead of coming into sharp contact with the wooden flooring, he faded right through it.

Kuroo jolted to consciousness. The nausea he was accustomed to feeling when he fell awake was multiplied tenfold. The realization that what he just went through was neither real nor realistic helped, but not nearly enough.

He groaned as he opened his eyes to check the time. He’d hardly been asleep for an hour. He closed them again in an attempt to limit the nausea, and because he needed to get some sleep, but he was far too alert to doze back off.

He really didn’t want to get married. He wanted to be committed, to display and confirm that commitment, but he didn’t want it to be through marriage. He didn’t have to be married to do that. He shouldn’t have to be married to do that.

“Well, Kenma was hinting at it,” his dad said before throwing back the rest of his beer, “Get me another.”

Kuroo immediately got up to do so, but he was more focused on his train of thought than the task.

“Kenma mentioned us getting married?” Kuroo asked, “We haven’t like really discussed that.”

He grabbed a beer from the fridge and twisted off the cap.

“He didn’t say that you had, just ever so slightly hinted that you two might be considering it,” his dad said with a laugh, “But I know my son isn’t stupid enough to become someone’s bride.”

Kuroo let out a jagged breath as he handed his father the beer.

“Groom, Dad, and no, I have no desire to get married.”

He sat back down at the table wishing he got himself a beer.

“Smart. Tying yourself to another person is never worth it. You can’t trust anyone not to become a whore.”

Kuroo flinched.

“I wouldn’t call Kenma a whore,” Kuroo said, “Just because Mom isn’t a good person doesn’t mean nobody is.”

He thought his dad liked Kenma. Kenma had never done anything deserving of judgment from his father.

“Sure, Kenma’s a good person now just like your mother was then,” he said, “But who knows next year or the year after or ten years after. Be smart enough not to trap yourself into an unknown.”

It was odd to be on the same side for such an opposite reason. He wanted to stay unmarried because he loved Kenma and trusted him to stay, not because he saw him as a liability.

It would be easy for them to break up. That was the commitment Kuroo wanted. He wanted Kenma to be with him because he chose to do so freely, not because getting a divorce was a hairy ordeal. Not getting married would remove the barrier to exit, but removing that barrier to exit would force them to actively build their relationship. There was no safety net so they had to be careful. He wanted them to be careful. He thought it was the best way to keep them happy and in love.

But what if Kenma didn’t get that?

Kuroo was more preoccupied with the score he’d just received on his math test than discussing Kenma’s cousin’s wedding, but Kenma seemed insistent upon discussing it regardless.

“Dude, it was like so tacky and uncomfortable,” Kenma said, unpacking his lunchbag, “When I get married I will not have a bunch of cringe traditions at my wedding.”

“When you get married?” Kuroo asked, “I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

Kenma made a face at him.

“Ew. Girls are gross,” he said, “I mean, not as gross as boys. Not that I’d marry a boy. I mean, obviously I’d marry a girl, but girls are gross. My mom says when I’m older I’ll think girls aren’t gross for long enough to get married. I hope so. I obviously have to get married, but it’s not looking good.”

“Girls aren’t that gross,” Kuroo said, “I mean, have you seen the one in your grade who plays the tuba? Have you seen her b-“

“Gross.”

Kenma would want to be married. Kuroo knew that. Were his options really agree to get married or break up? He supposed that was how most people viewed relationships, but it shouldn’t have to be that way.

Could he do it? Get married?

Giving in and getting married felt like agreeing to ruin the relationship. It felt like agreeing to take the commitment out of the relationship. It felt like agreeing to give up on making their relationship better.

But even if agreeing to marriage drastically increased the chances of ruining their relationship, refusing to agree to marriage would certainly end it outright. It was a numbers game and there was a clear victor.

If their relationship would force his hand with a ring, it was a compromise he would make. What choice did he have, really?

Chapter Text

Kuroo was almost more nervous about their meeting than he was about their first reintroduction. He didn’t need the paper in his hands- he’d read the words approximately seventy million times in the previous day- but he couldn’t help but glance over it once more.

He knew that it was going to be fine. All of their hard conversations had ended up fine, so the numbers were on his side, but something about the thought of hearing Kenma’s list caused him physical pain. He tried so hard to push it down, but the inadequacy rose up regardless and choked him up. The persistent image of a long scroll covered in cramped tiny handwriting, picking at every single part of him, his behaviors, his thoughts, his words, his very self concept was burned into his brain. He’d come a long way in being someone who was good, but he wasn’t perfect. Even though he knew that his brokenness was a problem, that brokenness was still a part of him, and a threat onto it felt like a threat onto him. It was illogical, but it was also human, or so he told himself.

He had just finished scanning his own list again when he heard a knock on his door. He rolled his shoulders back, trying to loosen the strained muscles, and walked over, pretending that everything was fine. Normally he’d be excited to merely see Kenma, but he couldn’t protect the butterflies from the acid in his stomach.

“Good morning,” Kuroo said as he opened the door.

He was glad that his voice came across clear despite his inadequacy doing its best to close his airway.

“Morning.”

Something about Kenma seemed deflated. He looked tired, withdrawn. His entire demeanor made Kuroo even more nervous. It brought him right back to the really bad days where Kenma was fragile and Kuroo was unfeeling. Surprisingly, he was the one who was different, not Kenma. It must have been a first for them. He ached as he took in the listless eyes and sagging posture. He hardly even registered that Kenma was wearing the hoodie that he had purposely accidentally forgot at Kenma’s house. An unquietable part of his brain wondered if Kenma would give him back the hoodie before or after dumping him. He imagined Kenma pulling off the sweatshirt in the attractive way he always did and tossing it to him with a wry comment about it being over. Would the removal of the hoodie still be sexy despite the context?

“You okay?” Kuroo asked, refocusing on the problem at hand, rather than the hypothetical one his brain provided for him.

He was hoping Kenma would give an explanation for his vibe that would indicate its cause wasn’t about their conversation. Any admission of the sort would soothe Kuroo’s nerves.

“Yes,” Kenma said, his entire expression changing to pleasant in the blink of an eye, “All good.”

More inadequacy tore through Kuroo before it was stifled by a different kind of pain.

“No,” Kuroo said, frowning as he caressed Kenma’s cheek, “Don’t you do that. You don’t have to do that around me.”

“Not doing anything,” Kenma said, still smiling as he tried to slip past Kuroo.

Kuroo blocked his path.

“You don’t have to mask it around me,” Kuroo said, “You don’t owe me an explanation about how you’re feeling, so you don’t have to replace answering the question by hiding. You can be not okay and not want to discuss it with me. That’s allowed.”

Kenma immediately wrapped his arms around Kuroo. It was quick enough to catch him well off guard, causing him to freeze for a second before hugging back.

“I’m sorry,” Kenma mumbled, his voice cracking in the slightest.

“Oh, sweetheart.”

Kuroo couldn’t fix it, but he could hold Kenma, so that’s what he would do, for as long as was needed.

“We can put this off you know?” Kuroo offered, “It’s not like we have to stick exactly to the timeline we originally said. We can just chill today if you want.”

He really hoped Kenma wouldn’t take him up on the offer. He wanted to rip the bandaid, and probably a few extra layers of skin, right off. He didn’t want more words unsaid between them. That was the one thing he hated the most from their initial rekindling- pretending to ignore the mountain of context between their faces.

He felt Kenma take a deep breath against him.

“No, I’m fine to do it now. I just have a bad headache and I didn’t really sleep and I’m stressed about this, but it’s fine. Seriously,” he mumbled, “I just needed a moment, I think, and now I’ve had a moment. I’m all good.”

“Alright,” Kuroo said, kissing the top of his head, “Whenever you’re ready, I’ll grab you a water and we can start at your pace.”

He felt Kenma nod against his chest and they both let go. Kenma walked past him to sit down at the table and Kuroo got out a glass, filling it with cold water.

As Kuroo handed him the cup, he noticed that Kenma had the same expression as the first time he’d walked into the apartment after their reunion. Kuroo knew it was probably best to not say what he was about to say, but he couldn’t help it. The curiosity got the better of him.

“What ghosts are you seeing this time?” he asked.

Kenma frowned, a somehow more exhausted expression taking over his face.

“Broken TV.”

The two words were enough for Kuroo to know what he meant. It was one he hadn’t really thought that much about

“You gonna replace my TV?” Kenma asked, putting his hands on his hips.

“Why would I replace it?” Kuroo asked.

“Because you broke it?”

Kuroo had no idea what he was talking about. He assumed he would have remembered if he broke something of Kenma’s, especially something as notable as an entire TV, a shitty TV, but a TV nonetheless.

“When? I didn’t even know it was broken. How did it break?”

“The tape holding it to the table was also holding it together, so a piece fell out and broke after you moved it,” Kenma said, “I had to throw it out, because it’s so old I couldn’t find a replacement part.”

Kuroo definitely remembered doing it, carefully taking off the long black strips of tape. The screen was far too low to the ground because the end table it had been on was short so he bought a new one from the thrift store and moved the TV onto it. He was doing them both a favor.

“How was I possibly supposed to know that?” Kuroo asked, “You never told me. Both about the tape holding it together and the fact that it was broken. I would have fixed it if I knew. It was an accident.”

“Ugh,” Kenma said, “Take some damn responsibility for once in your life. That was my TV, a good TV, and you broke it.”

“That thing was like 30 years old.”

They hardly even used it. The visual quality was horrible and the audio wasn’t much better, so they regularly used their laptops instead.

“And you trashed it,” Kenma reiterated, “Do you even care about me?”

Kuroo threw his hands up in surrender. Where did that even come from?

“Whoa there, let’s calm down a bit?”

Kuroo could feel the nerves nipping at him and he decided he wanted to prepare for the future rather than let himself be haunted by the past.

“I’ll go first if you’re ready,” Kuroo said, glancing at Kenma.

Kenma nodded and they both sat at the table. Kuroo had a piece of paper but Kenma just brought a post-it note. It made Kuroo feel a little bit better. It couldn’t be that bad. Right? Technically the word ‘everything’ could be written on it, but that seemed too cruel for a non-dream Kenma to even consider.

“Go ahead,” Kenma said, scratching the surface of his jeans.

“I have four,” Kuroo said, sliding the paper over to Kenma, “I want you to be able to communicate proactively and honestly, maintain clear work-life boundaries, give me space to breathe a little bit, and be independent in social situations.”

Kuroo held his breath waiting for a response. He didn’t mean any of them in a terribly negative way. As a matter of fact, Kenma was already doing them all for the most part. He wasn’t sure if they were explicit enough, but he knew that Kenma would know what he meant.

“Oh,” Kenma said, glancing at it, “I know I’m not allowed to accept yet, but I can work on that.”

“Cool,” Kuroo said, trying to be casual, “Cool.”

The easy part was done.

“So for yours, I also have four,” Kenma said, “Communicate calmly, be able to let things go, show me that you love me, and you can only drink three days a week.”

The first three were confidently stated, but the fourth came with a rushed tone. Communicating calmly and letting things go were by no means strong suits of Kuroo’s, but at least he could give them a concerted effort. Showing Kenma he was loved wouldn’t even be a difficult rule to follow. It was something that brought him joy, and something he’d once mistakenly taken for granted, so he’d make good on that one. The drinking was a separate matter entirely. He had no idea Kenma was even cognizant of his drinking habits, nevertheless concerned about them. Kuroo furrowed his eyebrows.

“I’m very much going to need time to think about that,” he said, frowning.

At first glance, it didn’t seem fair to ask, and definitely didn’t seem like something he could agree to. He liked drinking. He didn’t like Kenma telling him what he could and could not put into his body. It wasn’t really Kenma’s business and it left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yeah, I, uh, figured you’d take issue with that one,” Kenma said, picking at his cuticles, “But I’m holding firm on it.”

It didn’t take a mind reader to notice that Kenma was exponentially becoming more anxious, however, Kuroo wasn’t concerned about that. Something else was far more pressing.

“Why?” Kuroo asked, “Just because you don’t drink means I can’t?”

Kenma paused, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“I don’t know if you actually know how much you drink, but it’s not a healthy amount,” Kenma said, averting his eyes, “You’ve fixed a lot of your shit, and honestly I thought you’d spontaneously fix this too, but yeah. It’s okay if it takes you some time to adjust to just three days a week, I’m not saying it has to be an instant fix, but I am concerned about being with someone who has to drink every day.”

Kuroo didn’t drink every day, and he certainly didn’t have to drink ever. He wondered how he’d become such a caricature in Kenma’s brain that Kenma apparently thought he was taking in beer like it was water. Of all of the rational and non-rational things Kuroo was afraid Kenma would zero in on, drinking was not one of them, despite firmly being in the latter category.

“I’m not an alcoholic,” Kuroo said, slowly, “I don’t have to drink. I want to drink, because I like drinking.”

He had enough anger to yell but there was more than enough confusion buffering it. He truly didn’t understand where Kenma was coming from.

“Every day? You want to drink every day?” Kenma asked.

His voice was artificially steady. Kuroo could tell that he was putting a lot of effort into putting up a sturdy front.

“Okay, lets not act-“ Kuroo said, before thinking better of the intended sass, “It’s not every day. I do not drink every day.”

Kenma very intentionally moved his gaze to the empty wine bottles on Kuroo’s counter. Kuroo knew where he was looking and why he was as looking there. He refused to also look.

“The vast majority of days?” Kenma asked, “You average what, five days a week? Six days a week?”

Kuroo frowned. So what if he liked a drink or so in the evening? Or the afternoon? Or the occasional shot to warm his morning coffee or late night cocoa? If he wanted something to mellow him out and warm him up, it was his prerogative to do so. It was his life to live and it was therapeutic for him. He had no idea how to tell Kenma that his request was entirely unreasonable in the calm and reasonable tone that Kenma had requested in his list, so he decided to punt.

“Was that all for the list?” Kuroo asked.

“For the list, yeah, but we also need to talk about-“ Kenma started, his voice finally starting to falter.

No wonder Kenma seemed so distraught about the meeting. He knew that he was about to ask something so unfair during what was supposed to be a difficult but reasonable conversation.

“I’m not talking about that right now,” Kuroo said, “I’m done talking actually.”

He couldn’t talk about it. If Kenma couldn’t compromise on what Kuroo did with his own damn body, why should he have to compromise about legally attaching himself to someone else? They would take this one step at a time or they wouldn’t take it at all.

“Are you sure on that one?” Kenma asked, “Because I think you might be-“

“Oh, I’m sure.”

He didn’t mean to say it as loudly as he did, but he couldn’t help it. He was upset, rightfully, and he didn’t want to be questioned. He just wanted some time to think about the best way to clearly and calmly communicate to Kenma that he was being controlling and very much not giving Kuroo space, a term he had literally just unofficially agreed to. How could they make this work if they couldn’t even get out of the conversation about the demands without breaking them? Kuroo felt a cynical laugh try to bubble its way from his chest, but he resolutely shoved it back down.

“I should probably go, then?” Kenma asked, standing up, “Or do you want me here so we can talk?”

A variety of responses popped into Kuroo’s mouth and he carefully chose the option that felt like it would cause the least lasting damage but also provide his honest opinion on the situation.

“I need to be alone. This is a bit much. It’s insane,” Kuroo said, “And I need to be able to think clearly about it.”

Kenma nodded solemnly and Kuroo couldn’t help but be somewhat impressed that he hadn’t started crying.

“I understand,” Kenma said, walking towards the door.

His voice was barely louder than a whisper.

“Thanks,” Kuroo said, rather tersely as he watched Kenma wrench the door open.

Kenma then paused, turning to face Kuroo, his hand on the doorknob.

“I love you. A whole lot. I really do. You know that,” Kenma whispered, “Right?”

Maybe Kenma loved him a lot, but clearly not enough to accept him for who he was. Kuroo’s jaw clenched. Silence stretched out for a brief eternity. Kenma nodded again, straightened his posture, and started to walk into the hallway.

A voice inside of Kuroo’s head screamed that they could recover from Kenma trying to take Kuroo’s bodily autonomy. They could recover from disagreeing about marriage. They could recover from the conversation, how it was had, and the things that were said. But this? Kuroo wasn’t sure if they’d be able to recover if he didn’t say anything in response to that.

Kuroo hissed a sharp breath of air through his nose as he simultaneously swallowed his pride.

“Kenma, I love you,” Kuroo said, “I’m just really upset that you’d even think to ask me to do this.”

Relief visually hit Kenma’s body and Kuroo knew he made the right choice. He was mad at Kenma’s words, his actions. He was maybe even mad at Kenma himself, but that didn’t mean he wanted Kenma to be uncomfortable, to hurt. It might have temporarily felt good to lash out using nothing but silence, but he knew he would regret it.

“I understand and you have my support about being mad at me if that’s worth anything,” Kenma said, and the genuineness of his expression indicated that he anticipated Kuroo’s reaction, “Text me or call me or come over if and when you want to talk. Your pace. Take whatever time you need.”

“Okay,” Kuroo said.

He waited for the door to click shut before he started crying.

“Hey. How’s it going?” Kuroo asked.

He put the call on speaker so he could pace around without holding the phone to his ear. As it turned out, thinking about it by himself was incredibly unhelpful because he only had one point of view, and he already knew what it was. He almost, but not quite, wished he wouldn’t have kicked Kenma out.

“I’m good!” Bokuto said, “What’s up?”

“So, I know you’re on Kenma’s side, but I’m not seeing my therapist for a bit and need someone to talk something through with,” Kuroo said, “And you’re good with this stuff.”

Bokuto had previously made a great therapist, so it was worth a shot at the very least. It’s not like he could make the situation worse. Hopefully.

“I’m not on any side,” Bokuto said, “Again, there are no sides to be on, especially now that y’all are together again.”

The second Kuroo recognized what was said, anger flared within him. It settled in the back of his jaw. He was going to try to let it go, but since it was brought up, what was the point in pretending it didn’t bother him?

“Stop telling me that,” he said, trying to keep his voice even, “For a group of people who aren’t on any side, I just find it odd you’re all super close and pretty much none of you talked to me after the breakup.”

With each word it became harder and harder to manage his tone, but he was successful regardless. With his nerves being on edge over the entire situation, he wasn’t quite sure how he managed, but he did.

“You were happy after the breakup,” Bokuto said, “Kenma needed us.”

Kuroo immediately went to spit a response, pointing out that clearly he wasn’t happy after the breakup, but he paused.

Kuroo grinned as the screen flashed, showing that he successfully killed Bokuto. It was inevitable. Years of his ex trained him to be able to beat just about anyone at video games.

“Wanna go again or should we grab the pizza now?” Kuroo asked.

“Actually, just to be awkward for a quick minute, are you doing okay?” Bokuto asked, his hand looking like it was searching for where it should go, “I mean you guys were dating for a long time and it’s only been what? Like a week since he dumped you? I don’t know if you’re just playing it cool, but I’m here for you.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow at him. Dumping seemed like a strong word.

“I’m not playing anything,” Kuroo said, “I’m glad he broke up with me. It was mutual, honestly. Now we can move on and actually be happy in our lives.”

There was an awkward beat of silence and Kuroo shrugged to underscore his point.

“So you’re completely fine right now?” Bokuto asked.

“Hell yeah. I’m doing great,” Kuroo said, setting his controller on the end table, “Now let’s get that pizza.”

It was a blessing to be free from Kenma.

Kuroo sighed.

“Right. I get that, and I’m happy all of you supported Kenma. He clearly needed it and I’m thankful, really, that you helped him through it, but if you all took care of him and didn’t care about me, that's still taking sides. Maybe taking the right side, sure, and I’m glad you took the side, but it’s still a side and I think I get to be bummed about it. I really missed all of you. I was really lonely. I needed friends, too. Even now, I feel like I don’t belong anymore. It’s like Kenma got precedence. He took you all away and-“

That was much more than he wanted to say and he didn’t want to throw Kenma under the bus, so he cut himself off. He hadn’t realized just how upset he was over it, especially since he was much more upset about something else, the something else that he was actually calling about.

He heard Bokuto let out a breath.

“I don’t know if this is the wrong thing to say to you right now, but Kenma tried to get us to stay friends with you. He practically begged us a few times that we should hang out with you instead of him.”

Crushed, devastated, broken Kenma was that concerned about Kuroo retaining friends after they broke up? Was that true? Kuroo probably should have taken offense that Bokuto was talking with the tone of a man trying to tame a wild animal, but he was mostly distracted with the image of a pale heartsick Kenma looking out for the social wellbeing of the man he’d dumped for being a loathsome prick.

“I didn’t mean to blame him,” Kuroo said, sitting down at the table, “And this also wasn’t why I called. We can move on. It’s just something that frustrates- hurts- me and it jumped out at me. I’m just really easily agitated right now for reasons you’ll soon discover.”

Expressing the hurt felt incredibly uncomfortable, but also important. Part of Kuroo hated becoming mature enough to know that he should attempt to deal with his emotions. There were far too many painful conversations that bore from it.

“And I’m sorry. It was bad enough losing your long term partner. You didn’t deserve losing everyone in your life and all at once like that. It was shitty and we all should have kept checking in. Everyone should know that being fine one day doesn’t mean you’ll be fine every day. We messed that up for you.”

The sentiment wasn’t expected. The unabashed apology was certainly kind but it did throw Kuroo off track.

“Oh,” he said, trying to recover his thoughts, “Uh, yeah. Thanks, man.”

“You’re welcome, and I mean it,” Bokuto said, relief obvious in his tone, “But that wasn’t actually what you called about.”

Kuroo nodded.

“Long story short, we had to agree on some terms of our relationship and I don’t like the ones Kenma gave me,” Kuroo said, “Well, one of them.”

For some reason, he began to feel embarrassed. It was idiosyncratic- he’d done nothing wrong- but it was there regardless, quietly brewing below the surface.

“What? Did he finally ask you to get rid of the car wash mitt that’s permanently affixed to your head?”

Kuroo’s jaw dropped.

“Kenma loves my hair,” he objected, “And so does anyone with taste.”

“Mhm,” Bokuto hummed, sarcastically.

“Mhm,” Kuroo hummed, sincerely.

“Mhm?”

“He wants me to stop drinking,” Kuroo blurted.

During the silence that occurred, Kuroo felt relieved that it seemed like Bokuto was just as off put by it as he was.

“Why?” Bokuto asked, “I know he doesn’t really drink anymore, but that doesn’t seem relevant to what you do.”

Kuroo couldn’t agree more.

“I don’t really know why. He thinks I drink too much or something, but I don’t really think it’s that bad. I drink a lot, but not because I’m addicted or anything,” Kuroo said, “I just like doing it.”

As he said it, he felt less confident about it, but he was pretty sure his lack of confidence was unfounded. He was just second-guessing himself because of Kenma’s unreasonable request.

“But you can decide not to drink and then not drink, like if you said you weren’t going to drink tonight, you wouldn’t?” Bokuto asked, “Because I think that’s when it becomes a problem. Right? Not that I know anything about this. Like I’m not a professional obviously.”

Going a night without drinking was an absolute non-issue. He was more concerned that it was even a question than he was with the prospect of successfully completing the mandate.

“Yeah. For sure. It’s not that serious,” Kuroo said as he got up to walk over to the empty bottles on his counter, “And maybe that’s a good start. I won’t drink tonight and then I can tell Kenma tomorrow that it's not an actual issue because it’s not hard not to drink.”

Just to emphasize the point, he tossed the bottles into the garbage. Out of sight. Out of mind.

“So why is it such an issue for Kenma then?”

Kuroo paused.

“I don’t know.”

He kicked Kenma out before they’d talked all the way through it. In retrospect, it was probably the wrong move, but at the time it was the only correct decision that could be made.

“If you don’t know why it’s a problem, maybe it’ll help to think about why do you drink so often.”

Kuroo’s immediate response was that he drank because he wanted to. Period. End of sentence. However, he also wanted to know the real answer. Why did he drink so often? The answer became apparent without much thought.

“Because it makes me feel okay sometimes,” Kuroo answered honestly, “I’ve spent a lot of time in the last few years not feeling okay and it helps me regulate.”

He decided that he should feel embarrassed to say that, but he was well beyond that point.

“Oh,” Bokuto said, stretching out the syllable, “If drinking is like the only thing that makes you happy, well, besides Kenma of course, then maybe there could be something a bit concerning going on. Again I’m still not a doctor, though.”

Was that really a problem? Other people used yoga or writing to regulate their emotions. That didn’t make them yoga addicts or writing addicts. It just meant they had a hobby. Maybe his hobby was drinking to dull the pain. Was that so wrong?

“It’s not that I’m dependent on it to be happy. It’s just that if I can’t feel anything I can’t feel hurt anymore.”

“You can do better than that.”

Bokuto’s tone was incredibly kind and it inexplicably made Kuroo’s eyes well up with tears. He had to get out of the conversation before he broke down crying again. He focused on the sound of the rain for a moment as he collected himself.

“I know,” Kuroo said, “I think maybe I just need to think about it on my own some more. Sorry to call and then not resolve anything and then end the conversation.”

He was aware that the last time he said he needed to think through it alone, that it didn’t work, and he subsequently called Bokuto, but ideally, that wouldn’t happen again. He was out of people to call.

“You can call me anytime,” Bokuto said, “I’ll turn my volume up tonight in case you need to bounce anything off me. I’m here for you.”

Kuroo’s immediate thought was to judge Bokuto for being soft, but he wasn’t quite sure why. Bokuto was helping him. Bokuto was actively being a good friend. Why was that something to be ashamed of? Why would he shun that?

“Thanks man. I really appreciate it.”

Kuroo craved a drink. Beer. Wine. Something harder. Anything that would stunt his emotions. He was tired of thinking. First he had to think about his requests for Kenma. Then he had to think about marriage. And then he was tasked with thinking about whether to let Kenma control him like that. He picked a bad day to decide not to drink. His body was begging for it.

He picked up his pace as the rain came down harder. He was soaked and freezing but he had to keep walking. He knew it would get him somewhere- to his solution, not a physical place- but he had to keep at it if he wanted to get there.

He waited at a stoplight and tried to regain his train of thought. The pause in movement cooled him enough that he started to shiver. He knew that he probably should turn around, but he couldn’t. He needed to walk until he found his answer.

He panted heavily as he waited, his breath visible in the cold air. He considered the pros and cons of not drinking. Kenma had only specified a limit, not a hard stop, but it felt more insightful to consider it as a binary decision. It would provide a fuller range of outcomes, giving him a better understanding of the problem as a whole.

For pros, he’d have more spending cash. He’d spend significantly less time hungover, which would also buy him back some time in the mornings. It’d be good for his liver and lower his risk of developing multiple types of cancer. It would force him to take care of his mental health rather than just slapping something over it.

Most importantly, Kenma would approve.

For cons, he wouldn’t be drinking and drinking made things easier to cope with. He liked drinking. It was why his mind kept flitting back to the idea of going home to pour a glass or three of wine in order to deal with making the decision.

Kuroo crossed the street, carefully making sure that there were no cars in either direction.

Something about his pros and cons list was sitting heavily in his stomach. It took him a long moment before he could identify the source of the discord. Just as he was about to walk even further from his apartment, it came to him. If he had all of those reasons to stop drinking, and his only reason to drink was that it helped soothe his feelings, then why was he so vehemently opposed to the idea of stopping? It should have been no contest, especially since it wasn’t actually a hard stop. It was just down to three days a week.

Maybe his relationship with alcohol wasn’t as casual as he had originally thought. That was the only reason he could conceive as to why he was acting like a landslide decision was too close to call.

Kuroo grabbed the heated blanket from the closet where it had been untouched since before the breakup. He tried to ignore how dusty it surely was as he unraveled the cord. He also went back to wondering, and not for the first time, why it was in his apartment in the first place. Did Kenma simply forget it there as he tore through the boxes? Maybe he didn’t think to look in the closet. It was essentially just Kuroo’s stuff in there.

“I meant the boxes,” Kuroo said, wildly uncomfortable, “I can help you carry them.”

“No,” Kenma said, sarcastically laughing through the tears, “I don’t want help moving out of my ex-“

Kenma’s voice caught on the word and he started to sob harder. Kuroo had no idea what to do, so he just stood there, frozen. He was used to cynical, sarcastic Kenma. He was also used to bringing out that Kenma. He was not used, however, to not caring.

Kenma, clearly attempting to regain some wherewithal, dodged around the Kuroo-shaped statue in his path to get out of the apartment. On his way out, his wrist caught on the door, popping his bracelet open. Beads clattered to the floor.

It wasn’t until Kenma was probably already down the stairs that he unfroze. He walked around in disbelief to see how quickly Kenma had packed. Cabinets, drawers, and closets were all thrown open and boxes sat filled but not yet closed. Was this actually happening?

Kuroo shook off the line of thought as he plugged the blanket into the wall and set it to maximum heat. He was going to get into the shower to wash the cold rain away, but he knew what he should do as he waited for the water to warm up. He toddled over to the bathroom to turn the shower on, and then hit call. The timer immediately popped up. For a second he thought he was sent directly to voicemail- but no- Kenma was just really quick to answer.

“Kuro,” Kenma’s voice came through the speaker.

Even though it was just two syllables, the fondness with which Kenma spoke them went a long way towards warming Kuroo up. It seemed like Kenma fully expected the conversation to go well, which certainly wasn’t a given.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, “How are you?”

Kenma chuckled quietly.

“Pretty good,” he said, “You caught me at the perfect time. I went for a walk and just got out of my warm up shower. How about you?”

It was Kuroo’s turn to laugh.

“I’m about to get into my post-walk shower. I just wanted to say that I’ll be ready to talk about it tomorrow, so we can plan that out now.”

Calmness overtook him. The stress of the conversation would be over soon, then he could go back to just trying to lose himself in Kenma. That’s what he wanted more than anything.

“Oh, perfect,” Kenma said, “Wanna do it at the game or meet at one of our places?”

Kuroo could tell that his reasoning for asking was twofold. The obvious reason was so he could plan their meeting location. The only slightly less obvious reason was to gauge how difficult their conversation would be. If they had to do it in private, it probably meant it would be a rough one.

“Well, I don’t think there’ll be debates per se, but I think there’s enough to talk about that it hits the threshold of being weird to do without some privacy,” Kuroo said, “I wish we could do it at the game, but it’d be awkward with others nearby. Maybe meet first then go to the game?”

It was tempting to only attend the game. Frankly, if he were a spectator he would love overhearing a juicy conversation like the one they were about to have, but it was rather rude regardless. The only option he didn’t want was going to the game first and then talking about it after. He was doing a fairly good job of staying calm about it, but existing in the same physical space as Kenma without talking about it would test his resolve.

“Just the game can be arranged actually,” Kenma said, “Unlike you, I’m not required to interact with players and fans- I’m actually discouraged from doing so- so I’ve been given pretty regular access to a private box where I’m squirreled away to. We can talk there if you’re comfortable. I’m sure they’d give it to me again if I told them I was going to be at the game, or if you want, we can just meet up at my place. I don’t really care either way.”

What did Kenma of all people do to get sequestered? Have a conversation about the game that was too intelligent? Make too much eye contact with the floor? Kuroo couldn’t even comprehend it.

“What? They’re forcing you away from everyone else? I don’t work with event staffing, but why don’t I talk to the arena mana-“

Kuroo was confused at the deep belly laugh that cut him off.

“Thank you for your unwavering willingness to fight the world on my behalf, but despite what it may seem to you, I am actually a celebrity, and being in large groups of people has started becoming an issue. People want my autograph instead of the players’ so I was asked politely to be more discrete in my comings and goings.”

Kuroo cognitively knew that Kenma was a celebrity, but he’d never really witnessed him being barraged by fans or the paparazzi. It also didn’t help that his brain was absolutely fried. It wasn’t particularly a surprise that a fact so obvious would sneak past him.

“Fair enough, you rabblerouser,” Kuroo said, “That works for me, but let me know if you can’t get the box.”

“It shouldn’t be an issue,” Kenma said.

“Perfect. I’ll see you there.”

Kuroo shivered, despite the fact that the water had begun to heat up the room.

“Sounds good. I guess I’ll let you go then,” Kenma said, “Go get yourself warm.”

Kuroo didn’t have much more to say, but he wasn’t quite ready to end the call. He fished around for something to help him extend their conversation, because despite how good the hot water would feel on his cold skin, he was enjoying hearing Kenma’s voice.

“Out of curiosity, what made you think this would be an easy call?” Kuroo asked.

It was the only thing that kept coming back to him as he tried to find a topic.

“What?” Kenma said, “I didn’t. I mean, I was hoping of course, but I didn’t particularly assume one way or another. It’s rough. I get that.”

“You seemed pretty happy when you picked up,” Kuroo explained, “So I assumed that you, as usual, were able to preemptively figure out how the conversation was going to go.”

“Oh, I definitely didn’t this time,” Kenma said, “I just really enjoy getting to talk to you. For better or for worse, however any given conversation may go, so I was relieved when I saw you were calling.”

Kuroo’s throat went dry. Sometimes it was easy to forget just how much Kenma seemed to love him.

Chapter Text

Despite being off the clock, he used his JVA badge to skirt around the long security lines. The security staff at the employee entrance knew him well, so the fact that he was dressed in jeans and a hoodie, despite how underdressed that made him feel, didn’t lead to an issue in getting in. He probably would have made it to their box before the first whistle blew regardless, but he was feeling angsty enough that he didn’t think it was a good idea to wait in a long line. He’d even planned ahead, taking the train to the arena to avoid the ordeal of driving in busy traffic and having to park. Unfortunately, he didn’t anticipate the construction causing a detour in his walking route, so he was arriving later than ideal. His original plan was to get there first with a long enough lead to get comfortable before Kenma’s arrival- establish a home field advantage of sorts- but Kenma was surely already seated.

He waded through the crowd, trying to get to the private box that had been reserved for Kenma. Even for someone his height, it was hard to cut through the crowd, but the closer he got, the more dispersed the crowd became, and the easier it was to reach his destination.

“Hi there,” Kuroo said to the usher in front of the staircase, “I’m heading to a private box. Here’s my ticket.”

She glanced carefully at the ticket on his screen and scanned it before stepping to the side.

“Second room to the right up the stairs,” she said, “Would you like me to escort you there?”

Kuroo pocketed his phone.

“I should be good. Thank you, though.”

He took the stairs rather quickly for someone just getting ready to watch a volleyball game. It would have been particularly noticeable if he had actually tripped at the top, but he caught himself before that happened.

The jolt of adrenaline as he straightened himself caused a well timed reset of his brain as he prepared for the conversation that awaited him. Logically speaking, he was ready. He’d thought clearly through the things he wanted to say and he had spent some time anticipating Kenma’s concerns. Beyond the conversation itself, he had a follow-up plan. He would wait a few days, or maybe even a week, to officially move into Kenma’s house. He looked forward to it and wanted to do it as soon as possible, but the conversation and everything it represented carried weight. Taking a few days to really sit with what they’d discussed and truly prepare himself for the unrestrained remainder of their relationship seemed like a good idea. It would theoretically be the last time they lived apart, the last time he had his own place to hide in. He would build a firm foundation and then he would move to the new step with confidence and excitement. It was all coming together.

He held his phone to the terminal on the door and he heard the lock slide open. He was impressed by how modern the area seemed to be.

He swallowed and then pushed the door open. He was grateful to see that Kenma was the only one in the space. It wasn’t a shared box, nor were there any staff present. Kenma was sitting at a high top table against the glass, looking intently at the court. He already had a large bucket of popcorn and two drinks. His body language was that of an excited spectator rather than someone who was about to have a difficult conversation.

“Hey, sorry I’m-“ Kuroo started.

Kenma turned around to look at him, and Kuroo lost his train of thought entirely.

“Hi, babe,” Kenma said, “Pleasure to see you on this fine day.”

Kuroo was pretty sure that Kenma was sporting an overly amused facial expression, but he was unable to look past the flimsy plastic glasses on his face which were attached to a bulbous nose and a dramatic curly mustache.

“What in the fuck are you wearing?” Kuroo asked.

When did Kenma stop to buy a children’s disguise? Where did Kenma stop to buy a children’s disguise? Why did Kenma stop to buy a children’s disguise?

“What? I’m supposed to be blending in with the crowd while I’m here. I figured I’d be pretty inconspicuous this way.”

Kenma scooted his chair over to give Kuroo more room to sit down. Kuroo couldn’t tell how he felt about Kenma preparing for their meeting by putting on a child’s toy. On one hand, it seemed somewhat dismissive and in the ballpark of disrespectful, but on the other hand-

“Can I kiss you?” Kuroo asked, taking his seat, “I feel like it’d feel funny with the mustache.”

He wasn’t sure if it was Kenma’s presence or the glasses themselves, but the topic he’d been laser focused on was no longer at the forefront of his mind.

“In public?” Kenma asked, bringing his hand to his mouth as if scandalized.

“I figured it’d be fine since nobody can tell who you are anyway.”

Kenma laughed a small, beautiful laugh. Kuroo’s chest soared. He was responsible for that laugh, for making Kenma laugh. He wasn’t sure which point made him prouder.

“Can’t argue with that logic,” Kenma said with an adorable smile.

Their eyes met for a brief moment and Kuroo melted. Did they even have to have a conversation? Maybe instead they could spend the time simply looking at each other, or maybe they could do more than looking. Who needed a talk or a volleyball game when they had each other?

“So, can I, then?” Kuroo asked, not wanting to let the opportunity slide.

“Of course.”

Kuroo leaned in and kissed Kenma. It was weird, and certainly not in a positive way. Between the sensation of the smooth plastic nose pressing against his and the cheap mustache scratching against his lips, it was an objectively bad kiss, and a moderate sensory nightmare. Even so, he considered going in for another. Behind the tactile mess was the privilege of kissing Kenma, but it didn’t quite break even. It was a surprisingly close call, though.

He felt an odd mix of attraction and humorous exasperation as Kenma leaned forward to whisper in his ear.

“Did you like that? Was that good for you?” Kenma asked, using a voice Kuroo had only ever heard him use in the bedroom.

Kuroo immediately burst into laughter. He leaned back in his chair and let it all out. He recovered for a moment before looking back over at Kenma who was staring daggers at him, glasses still on. It made everything much worse and he started to laugh again, but that time, he heard Kenma’s laugh join his. After a moment he was able to get himself together, an effort aided by the fact that Kenma had finally taken off the glasses.

“Okay,” Kuroo said, taking a deep breath, “I’m good now.”

Kenma slid the bucket of popcorn and one of the drinks in front of Kuroo.

“Hey, I mean-“

Kuroo could easily tell by the tone of the lead in that Kenma was planning on cracking a joke, but the door to their box opened, startling them both. Did they not have a private box?

“Hello, sirs,” the visitor, a young woman, said, “The game is about to start, which means we are now offering our full complimentary dining options. I’ll be taking care of this block of boxes today. I first wanted to explain your options to order. I’m going to be between the boxes over here, so if you need something, feel free to flag me down. Otherwise, I’ll stop in at the end of the second and fourth sets if applicable. You can also use the button over there like a walkie talkie. You just press and hold to talk.”

Kuroo looked over at where she was pointing. The other end of the table had a button attached to what looked like an intercom system of some kind.

“Makes sense,” Kenma said, “Thank you.”

“No problem. Is there anything I can get for you now?” she asked.

“You good?” Kenma asked, looking over at Kuroo.

“Yeah, I’m good for now,” Kuroo said, nodding at her, “We’ll be sure to let you know if we need anything though.”

“Wonderful. Please enjoy the game,” she said with a slight bow.

“Thank you,” they both said.

“Oh, um,” she said, her voice timid, “I also wanted to say that it’s an honor to meet you. Sorry to bring it up. I just wanted to let you know in case I seem nervous. That’s why.”

A proud smile played its way onto Kuroo’s lips. He really was becoming influential in the volleyball world. His job was rough at times, but he had to be doing something right if people recognized him even outside of his typical game outfit.

“Hey, no worries. That’s awesome,” Kenma said, “If you come back after the game, we can take a selfie or something if you want.”

Oh. She was talking about the world famous video game mogul, not a fan-facing member of the Japan Volleyball Association. In retrospect, that probably made much more sense.

“Oh my goodness. That would be so kind of you,” she said, “I’m a very big fan of yours and I never thought I’d see you, nevertheless actually get to talk to you ever.“

“It was pretty good luck on your part. I can’t say I’m out and about terribly often,” Kenma said with a smile.

“I, um, sorry, I’ll stop bothering you. I just wanted to let you know that you’re an inspiration to me,” she said, “I finally decided to apply to game design programs. I didn’t think the industry would be welcoming to me, but you really make it seem like there’s a place.”

Kuroo felt a thrill go through him and he had the sudden urge to tell her that he was actually dating Kenma. Amazing inspiring Kenma was someone he had the joy of loving, and the honor of being loved by.

“I’m glad to hear it. It’s rough getting into the industry but you can definitely make it happen,” Kenma said, “I think companies are finally realizing that the more different perspectives they have behind the drawing board will lead to richer stories and ideas in general. Things are definitely changing for the better now.”

Kuroo was taken aback by the Kenma that was conversing with her. He spoke smoothly, professionally, confidently, and most uncharacteristically at a normal volume. It was almost uncanny to Kuroo. While it piqued his interest, it didn’t feel like the Kenma he knew. Was Kodzuken just a mask that Kenma wore? Did he always talk to fans like that? Maybe he should ask if he could start watching Kenma’s streams.

“Thank you,” she said, “Anyway, I’ll leave you alone. I hope you enjoy the game. Don’t hesitate to ask if you need anything.”

“No problem at all,” Kenma said, “Thank you.”

Once Kuroo heard the door close behind them, he frowned the slightest bit. It was a clear transition into their next activity. As much as he was mostly calm about their impending conversation, he didn’t want to have it. He’d rather just enjoy the game and Kenma’s company.

“So,” Kenma said, glancing down at the court, “Chitchat now or watch the game?”

“Chitchat now, please,” Kuroo responded, the words coming out somewhat smashed together.

Kenma smiled at him. He looked like he was endeared by Kuroo’s nerves, but not in a condescending way. Kenma was firmly on his side.

“I’m accepting your terms,” Kenma said, “I feel like sometimes we’re going to have to iron out the specifics of how they apply to things, because they are- mine too- pretty vague, but I’ll try my hardest to do my best for you.”

As he finished his statement, he set his hand on Kuroo’s thigh. An unexpected wave of relief rushed through him. He didn’t really think Kenma would say no, not consciously anyway, but now that his agreement was confirmed, a weight was lifted from him.

“I’m agreeing as well,” Kuroo said, “But I do want to talk about some things.”

He watched Kenma’s face light up with relief and wondered if Kenma thought he wasn’t going to accept, or if maybe Kenma was also surprised by the relief.

“Sure,” Kenma said, his pretty eyes briefly meeting Kuroo’s, “What’s up?”

Kuroo swallowed. He set his hand on top of Kenma’s. It was best to just be out with it.

“I don’t really like that you’re asking me to change what I do with my own body. I think it’s unfair and that it’s bordering on not giving me space. I also don’t like that by saying it, you’re implying I can’t not drink. I think that’s unfair too, and I think you’ve built up a false perception of me.”

He’d practiced the words in different arrangements and was overall okay with the way they came out. Kenma nodded slowly, his expression unreadable.

“I respect your frustration. I get that and I’m sorry that I’ve represented you unfairly. It’s not fair to be judged as someone that’s not you, so I’ll work on getting it straightened out in my brain,” Kenma said, “But I am concerned about why you’re willing to agree if you disagree- which is understandable- with how I decided on the term.”

Kuroo didn’t quite believe that Kenma was being entirely honest about working to update his mental representation, but he was willing to let it go. Kenma would understand his mistake in a few weeks after they’d lived together for a bit. The situation would resolve itself regardless, so there was no need to stress the issue.

“Because I don’t actually think it will be hard for me to do it. Like I said, just because I happen to drink a lot doesn’t mean I have to drink a lot. I can do it, and it’s healthier anyway, so it’s not necessarily a bad idea in itself,” Kuroo admitted, “It’s more that I think it’s unfair that it’s coming from you as a dictate. The problem was that you decided I have no choice but to do it more than the task itself. I’m not comfortable with you controlling my body like that.”

“I get that. I do. However, just know that this isn’t some sort of slippery slope kinda thing. Outside of this, what you do with your body and health is up to you. What you eat, how you exercise, what you wear, what you do with your body is not up to me. Well, besides the old things, and the drinking, and even then, what you drink and how much is up to you, really, just that it has to be contained to three days a week.”

What did that mean? What older things? Did Kenma have some misperception of a previous conversation? What if he was referring to something else Kuroo didn’t agree with? Was he hiding secret terms within the drinking term? Kuroo almost didn’t want to clarify, because it could lead to a fight in an awkwardly public place, but he couldn’t sit on it. He had no choice.

“What old things?”

“I love you, but you’re not exempt from my no cigs or non-monogamy rule,” Kenma said, momentarily glancing back at him.

Kuroo had never asked Kenma if he was with anyone in the year they were apart, but he was rather curious. An unacceptable bit of jealousy wished Kenma’s rule stopped him from being successful in that endeavor.

“You have a crush on someone on your team?” Bokuto slurred loudly, nearly shouting.

Kuroo’s head snapped to look at them.

“Quiet the fuck down! I do not!” Kenma whined.

Kuroo was too drunk to tell if the reason Kenma was bright red was the alcohol, a crush, or the embarrassment of Bokuto shouting about it.

“You have a crush on someone on your team?” Kuroo asked, much quieter than Bokuto.

It was news to him if it was true. Kenma never talked about his friendships on the team. Kuroo knew practically nothing about the new first years. He’d never even seen them outside of the games he attended.

“Oh my god. I do not.”

Kenma glared as he said it. Kuroo’s truth sensor was at a disadvantage, but he was detecting a lie. Who could it be?

“Well if not someone on your team, then who?” Kuroo asked.

“Nobody,” Kenma said, downing the rest of his drink, “I’ve hardly ever even considered dating and stuff like that.”

“Give us hints about what your type is then,” Kuroo needled.

He was hoping Kenma’s answer would give him some information that he could use to piece together who Kenma was crushing on.

“Fine,” Kenma said.

He shoved his empty cup to the side and started shakily climbing up onto the table.

“Oh god, Kenma, easy,” Kuroo said.

He knew Coach Nekomata would already be displeased to find out that he and Bokuto decided to help Nekoma celebrate qualifying for nationals for the second year in a row by coming back from college and bringing a ton of alcohol. Allowing his star setter and captain to get hurt by drunkenly falling off a table would make it so much worse.

“Hush,” Kenma said, nearly stumbling off the edge, “I have to make a declaration.”

Kuroo watched him look down at the clump of people staring up at him. If he was willing to draw that much attention, he must have been drunker than Kuroo thought, or just really intent on dispelling any misinformation about his love life.

“Hell yeah!” Bokuto shouted, pounding on the table.

Kuroo got closer to the edge of the table where Kenma was standing. Maybe he could catch Kenma if he started to fall. He wasn’t terribly optimistic.

“I, Kozume Kenma, have a type,” Kenma announced, “I won’t date smokers or people who don’t do monogamy. That stuff is cool if you like it, but I personally do not.”

Kuroo laughed.

“That’s not a type, you idiot,” he said.

Nor did it help him narrow down who on the team would fit into that category.

“Well, yeah it is. A type is what you like in a person. I like non-smokers and monogamists,” Kenma said with a shrug, staring down at him.

“Those are dealbreakers,” Bokuto said, stretching out the last word like it was an advanced piece of vocabulary, “A type is less serious. Like what kinda appearance or vibes do you like?”

Kenma thought in silence for a moment.

“Hair. I don’t wanna date a person afflicted with baldness if I can avoid it,” Kenma said solemnly.

“You heard it here folks!” Bokuto shouted, “Kenma wouldn’t date one of the many, many bald teenagers around.”

“Oh, yeah. That’s not a problem I have no desire to do either.”

“I figured as much,” Kenma said, watching the players take the court, “So are we okay on that? If you have more to say, that’s fine, though. I’m not trying to stop you if you do.”

It felt good. It felt resolved. He looked forward to having a few days on his own to really think through everything to make sure there weren’t any last minute regrets or things he hadn’t set up. He felt prepared to prepare for the start of their new chapter, the rest of their life together.

“I’m all good,” Kuroo said, “Can we do a handshake for official business reasons?”

“Not yet. I don’t shake hands until I cover all aspects of a contract.”

He didn’t look at Kuroo, instead looking over at the updated stat line that was flashing on one of the boards. Kuroo had forgotten about that part of their discussion entirely. He was willing to give in, so he’d mentally marked it as resolved. He’d accept the terms in the moment and then take the next few days to really get comfortable with it, but there was no way Kenma could have possibly known that.

“We can eventually get married if that’s what needs to happen for us to be together. That's fine with me,” Kuroo said, “We can feel it out and get engaged when it seems right, and I promise that I’ll get myself excited about it so it doesn’t totally suck for you.”

The words, the acceptance of something very serious that he didn’t believe in, were oddly easy for him to say. It was a sacrifice he was willing to make for Kenma. He could risk ruining his relationship by getting married, because he knew deep down that they’d be able to make it work. They wouldn’t give up trying like so many others did. It was something that he could control, so he would. It would work out because they were willing to work it out.

Perhaps he was more against the concept of marriage than he was against marrying Kenma.

“Actually,” Kenma said, taking a moment to munch on some popcorn, “I think I might have a proposition that’ll be of interest to you.”

Kuroo‘s eyes widened in curiosity. He hadn’t imagined the conversation going in any other direction than simply agreeing to get married.

Kuroo was relieved that they were able to get to the parking lot with Kenma being noticed by a fan only once. It was finally beginning to sink in for him just how much Kenma had entered the public eye. Feeling sure that they wouldn’t run into anyone else, Kuroo laced his fingers into Kenma’s and squeezed.

“You know, I would never have even considered that,” Kuroo said, “You’re just so clever. I feel like saying someone is good at setting terms is a crazy thing to say, but you are.”

Kenma squeezed his hand back.

“There’s a reason Bouncing Ball is an absolute juggernaut right now.”

It was said entirely as a joke, but he wasn’t wrong.

“I don’t even know how to react to that,” Kuroo admitted.

“Well, for starters, you think it’s kinda sexy,” Kenma joked, shifting his weight to bump into Kuroo.

The statement was all humor and no genuineness, so he was naturally inclined to refute him to further the banter, but he decided on a different approach.

“Yeah, I do,” Kuroo said, lowering his voice, “I think it’s insanely attractive.”

Kuroo glanced over at Kenma to see that he was visibly flustered. Mission accomplished.

“So, anyway,” Kenma said, unsurprisingly trying to dodge the compliment, “Are you free the rest of the day? I have a surprise for you.”

Kuroo had no plans. He was following Kenma to his car so he didn’t have to take the train back home, but he was of course happy to spend more time with Kenma. It would be a nice way to wrap up the weekend.

“I’m free for the day. What are we doing?”

“You’ll see,” Kenma responded, squeezing Kuroo’s hand, “In just one minute.”

“Just one minute?”

They were in a parking garage and almost at Kenma’s car. There was nowhere they could get to within a minute, unless their activity was making out inside of Kenma’s car like they were teenagers. It was an odd choice but Kuroo wasn’t sure that he’d say no.

“It’ll be obvious when we get to my car.”

Maybe they were going to be tonguing in the back seat after all.

“Works for me.”

Kuroo could feel the excitement radiating off Kenma as they got closer. He released Kenma’s hand so Kenma could dig out his keys and unlock the doors.

“Voila,” Kenma said, pulling open a rear door.

Kuroo’s heart sank the second his brain processed what was happening. The seats were down and the back of the car was filled with moving boxes. A roll of packing tape sat upon one of the stacks.

“Kenma,” he said, “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

He needed the time alone. There was no way around it, even if that meant shattering his heart to deny Kenma.

“Oh,” Kenma said, very clearly trying to hide his disappointment, “I thought you were going to move in with me?”

“I am. For sure. I am. Don’t worry about that,” Kuroo said, “Just not right now. Just not yet. Soon.”

He gently placed a hand on Kenma’s back between his shoulder blades. He didn’t realize that Kenma was so tied up in the idea of him moving in. Maybe he would have rethought his plan if he did.

“But we did it,” Kenma said, confusion heavy in his tone, “We agreed to the terms. We graduated. We were granted parole. We are good to go.”

He didn’t want to stress Kenma out, but it wasn’t really his fault that Kenma had this expectation they hadn’t talked about. His general tendency to cave and give Kenma literally anything he wanted was lurking beneath the surface, but he knew it would be better in the end if he held to it and forced them to wait a few days.

“It’s just a few days. Not even a whole week is fine, and I mean, it’s not like I said I was going to move in immediately anyway. It’ll be quick. How about Friday after work or Saturday.”

Kuroo moved his arm from Kenma’s back to around his shoulders to pull him in closer.

“You definitely did,” Kenma said, not leaning into him.

“Uh, no,” Kuroo said, gently, “I said I’d move in with you but it’s not like we set a date.”

“No, you definitely, absolutely-“ Kenma started, his voice starting to rise, “It doesn’t matter, I guess. What’s stopping you from moving in with me?”

Kenma ducked out from Kuroo’s arm and faced him more directly. Of course, he didn’t quite make eye contact, but he did grab Kuroo’s wrist. Kuroo was pretty sure that he felt bad removing himself from Kuroo’s touch and wanted to reestablish it. It seemed like a Kenma thing to do.

“Don’t you think we’re taking things a little fast right now?” Kuroo asked, “Like we’re going from a baby relationship to moving in all of a sudden? It’s awesome and I’m so excited, but I just need a few days to adjust and then it’ll be perfect.”

Kuroo could see the disagreement on Kenma’s face despite the fact that he was looking at the ground.

“Uh, no,” Kenma said, slowly, “I think we’ve been taking things very slowly. We have been building up to this for months.”

Sure, but every moment of the build was vital and painstakingly hard. He needed some time to breathe and process everything, to fully accept rather than superficially agree to the statutes of their incoming relationship. He needed to do that alone, in his own physical and mental space. It would happen, and quickly, but it needed to happen on his own terms.

“It feels slow for you because you’re fine and good and wonderful, so you’re just living life,” Kuroo said, the words feeling far away from him, “But I’m not. I’m a mess. I’m scrambling to catch up. You’re jogging up a mountain and I’m dragging myself by my fingernails.”

Kenma finally looked back up at him.

“You really think this is a breeze for me?” Kenma asked, raising an eyebrow.

Surprise? Offense? Sadness? Anger? Incredulousness? Resentment? Whatever was in Kenma’s expression, Kuroo couldn’t read it, but he knew it wasn’t good.

“Compared to me? Yeah. I do,” Kuroo admitted.

Maybe it wasn’t the best thing to say, but it was the honest to god truth and something that needed to be made known. Kenma paused for a moment before slowly nodding.

“Fair,” Kenma said, “I acknowledge that at the current time and probably for the last few months, it has been harder for you to adapt than it has been for me. I see, and appreciate, and respect, and all that stuff, how hard you’re trying and how good you’re doing. I know it’s probably a nightmare, but you’re doing so good.”

Kuroo wanted to argue the point further and suggest it was more than just the last few months. It was probably since before they even started talking again, but he didn’t have the desire to get into it.

“Thank you.”

Kenma hesitated, but then grazed his fingers against Kuroo’s cheek.

“And I haven’t been doing a good enough job of supporting you or even just recognizing that fact,” Kenma said, lowering both his voice and his eyes, “Let me know what I can help carry. Okay?”

Discomfort coursed through Kuroo. He wanted out of the conversation. He regretted saying anything about it in the first place. It just served as a window into his inferiority, and worse than that, it clearly weighed heavily on Kenma. He didn’t want Kenma to feel like he wasn’t being supportive enough. Kenma deserved to be spared from his woes.

“Do you wanna get ice cream and binge some shitty reality competition show?” Kuroo asked, trying to redirect them to something less heavy, “I have a long day at work tomorrow so I can’t stay too long, but we can get a few good hours in.”

The only problem would be the acute awkwardness of the boxes screaming from the back seat during their drive to and from Kenma’s place. Otherwise, it sounded like a good way to spend the remnants of the weekend.

“Um, yeah,” Kenma said, grabbing his hands, “Of course I do.”

Kuroo grinned as Kenma returned with a second round of ice cream for them both.

“When do you have to head home?” Kenma asked.

He set his own bowl of ice cream on the ottoman and stretched. They’d been leaning against each other on the couch for quite some time. While it was a nice couch, it wasn’t nice enough to not leave them feeling a little stiff.

Kuroo glanced at the time.

“Probably in about an hour, unfortunately.”

He felt bad about saying the last word. If he had agreed to move in right away like Kenma had wanted, then he wouldn’t have to leave.

“Damn,” Kenma said, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his shorts, “Want to start the next season or is there something else you want to get up to?”

Kuroo could easily read into the undertone of Kenma’s words. Unfortunately for Kenma, he wasn’t quite ready for that step either.

“Wanna play a few rounds of Kart?” Kuroo asked.

“Absolutely, I do,” Kenma said, “Let me get it set up.”

As Kenma weaseled around the back of the TV to change out the cords, Kuroo wondered why Kenma didn’t get one with more ports so he didn’t have to go through the work. However, he then realized that there were way too many consoles and the spaghetti maze of cords going into an insane TV with 20 HDMI ports and countless RGBs probably wouldn’t be worth it. Kenma had an immensely impressive collection.

Kuroo couldn’t help but look as Kenma returned from behind the TV, and for some reason bent over at the waist to turn on the console and insert the disc. His initial glance was admittedly at Kenma’s ass (he was only human after all), but he ended up far more taken with his legs. The position made the soft muscles stand out. He figured it would be polite to at least let Kenma know he was looking.

“Nice,” Kuroo said, drawing out the word.

His brain really wanted to see Kenma naked, and it wasn’t because he was horny. Kenma’s body had changed quite a bit since the last time Kuroo had seen him without any clothing. His new lifestyle had reshaped him, and Kuroo wanted to spend time becoming acquainted with every new rise and fall of Kenma’s body.

“Oh, please,” Kenma said, and Kuroo could hear the embarrassment in his voice.

He wondered if Kenma was blushing. When Kenma straightened up and turned around to give him a look, it was unclear. Maybe he should change that.

“What?” Kuroo said, “I can’t help it. Your legs look so good right now.”

His soft muscles suited his small frame. He looked powerful, strong, but still soft in all the right places.

“Sorry,” Kenma said, rolling his eyes, “I guess I forgot to put on a show for you. Let me just-“

He dramatically rolled his short sleeves up over his shoulders and then started flexing in wildly unnecessary poses as he pressed the buttons on the controller to set up the game. At one point, he even put the controller above his head to flex his triceps. Kuroo tried to keep his jaw closed when Kenma pulled up the hem of his shirt and flexed his abs. They weren’t normally visible, but with the flex, Kuroo could undeniably see an outline. Kenma was clearly messing around- the expression on his face was intentionally ugly, and he was making strange grunting noises as he did it- but that wasn’t vaguely on Kuroo’s mind. He wanted to run his fingers over every millimeter of Kenma’s skin. They’d done some rather scandalous topless touching, but he wanted more than a lazy dance of fingers. He wanted a thorough reintroduction to Kenma’s body. He wanted to know it once more, and he wanted it to know him.

Once Kenma finished the game setup process, he looked over to roll his eyes at Kuroo, who wasn’t hiding the fact that he was still looking.

“You’ve always been really attractive. I’ve always loved looking at you,” Kuroo said, “But now? You’re somehow even more hot. The hair. Your body. The way you carry yourself? Hot.”

Kenma stared at him blankly for a second.

“Oh my god. I was just screwing around,” he said, walking over to hand Kuroo a controller, “Here you go.”

Kuroo grabbed the controller and sat it on the armrest.

“Yeah, I know you were trying to be ugly because you knew I was paying attention, and it didn’t work. You were trying to be ugly, and it didn’t matter because you’re that damn pretty.”

“Okay, whatever,” Kenma said with a dismissive laugh.

He turned to grab his own controller, but Kuroo grabbed his wrist. He had let Kenma refusing to accept a compliment drop so many times, but he would do so no more. The only thing previously preventing it was his unwillingness to possibly pick a fight with Kenma over it, but they just agreed to terms. Like Kenma said, they were free to go. There was no time like the present.

“I mean it,” Kuroo said, “I was messing around in tone, but I’m serious. I want you to know how beautiful you are.”

Maybe if he used a bunch of different but equally applicable terms, Kenma would finally accept it.

“You’re the pretty one here,” Kenma said, using his free hand to fluff Kuroo’s hair, “I mean, have you seen yourself?”

Beyond being persistently attractive, Kenma was also persistently persistent. His stubbornness was unmatched, but Kuroo knew it was only a matter of finding the correct strategy that allowed him to duck around the stubbornness entirely. He faltered for a moment, out of ideas, but then something pieced itself together in Kuroo’s brain: hypocrisy.

“You know, I think it’s funny that you set the condition that I show you my love, but you refuse to accept it when I do,” Kuroo said.

“It’s not the same and you know that,” Kenma said, “Loving me and complimenting me are two entirely different things.”

Kuroo furrowed his brow.

“It’s true that I don’t love you because you’re beautiful, and I don’t think you’re beautiful because I love you, but you being beautiful is one of the things I love about you,” Kuroo said, “Obviously, I love your personality most of all, but me loving you means me loving all of you, and that includes how you look.”

“Oh, come here,” Kenma whispered, tilting Kuroo’s chin up with unsteady fingers, “Kiss me.”

Another display of stubbornness. It was closer, but not quite what he was looking for. Luckily, Kuroo had a back up plan: bribery.

“Not until you accept a compliment for once in your goddamn life, my love.”

Kenma had been and actively was the one of them pushing everything forward. Part of it was that Kuroo felt like only Kenma had the right. Part of it was that Kenma seemed to be much more confident in their success than Kuroo. Lastly, Kuroo also figured that a large part of it was because Kenma craved intimacy more than Kuroo did, though the balance was definitely changing. Unfortunately for Kenma, intimacy with another required intimacy with the self.

“Consider it accepted,” Kenma said, setting his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders, “Kiss now?”

Kuroo laughed. It was a start, but he was feeling greedy.

“Not a chance,” he said, leaning his head against one of Kenma’s hands, “Unless you fill in the blank with something positive. I am blank. It doesn’t even need to be about your appearance, because I know you aren’t wearing your glasses and can’t see how pretty you are. It can be anything. You are blank.”

Kenma scrunched his lips, tipping off Kuroo to the fact he was about to hear some bullshit.

“I am the owner of a super awesome video game collection that I love playing with you.”

His face exuded pride in his answer as he leaned down to kiss Kuroo. Kuroo pushed his hands into Kenma’s chest, preventing him from actually succeeding at getting the kiss.

“An adjective. Something about you, not your possessions or surroundings.”

Kenma frowned at him and gently squeezed his shoulder muscles.

“I am rich as fuck,” Kenma said, moving one of his hands to graze Kuroo’s cheek.

Kuroo continued pushing against his chest when Kenma tried to lean forward again.

“An adjective about your character?”

“I am difficult.”

Based on Kenma’s lack of movement, it appeared he knew that answer wouldn’t be accepted either.

“Even though I often love that about you, I’m seeking an adjective that is pretty objectively positive.”

Kenma looked away and the silence stretched on. Kuroo wondered if they’d spend the rest of their hour like that. He vowed to stay silent until Kenma would buck up and do it or he had to go home.

“I am really good at strategizing and thinking my way through complex stuff,” Kenma said.

Kuroo almost wanted to point out that it wasn’t an adjective, and it was honestly more of a statement of fact than a compliment, but he was going to allow it. It was a good step for Kenma.

“It’s true,” Kuroo said, “You’ve always been insanely smart. Like seriously, I love the way your brain works.”

Kenma smiled at him.

“Thank you.”

Kuroo raised his eyebrows. A double victory.

“Of course. It's so fun for me.”

Kenma stared at him expectantly. It took Kuroo’s brain a moment to catch up to why. He gently pushed Kenma back far enough so he could get up from the couch.

Then, he was much less gentle.

He grabbed his phone from his pocket, set a timer for one hour and then tossed it on the couch, not looking at where it landed. He sent his hands to Kenma’s lower back and smashed their lips together. He heard Kenma gasp and then felt one hand wind into his hair and the other rest on the back of his neck. Kuroo leaned forward further, bending Kenma back as he licked into his mouth.

He had to provide an incentive for Kenma to accept more compliments in the future.

Chapter Text

Kuroo didn’t need both hands to pin Kenma’s above his head, but he opted to use them both regardless. Lacing his fingers into Kenma’s and pressing them into the wall just up and away from his ears meant that Kenma’s arms would be less sore in the morning, but it also meant that he didn’t have to worry about the location of any of their hands. They were all secured in an acceptable place.

He lazily kissed Kenma and Kenma sighed contentedly, squeezing his fingers. He was in the process of debating whether he should move one of his hands to grab Kenma’s shirt, but he was interrupted by his alarm going off and scaring the absolute shit out of him.

“Woah,” Kuroo said, jolting back and releasing Kenma’s hands, “I forgot about that.”

He’d been so wrapped up in Kenma that having to leave didn’t even cross his mind. He walked over to turn the alarm off and watched in his periphery Kenma slowly slide down the wall onto the floor.

“Can you stay longer?” Kenma asked.

A thrill shot through Kuroo’s stomach when he looked over to see that Kenma’s lips were kissed swollen. He wanted to stay so badly, to finally sleep in Kenma’s bed, but he knew better. They’d get there very soon. It was just a few days. He’d come to terms with their terms on his own terms, and then they could make up for lost time after that was done.

“Sorry. I’ve got a bitch of a day tomorrow,” Kuroo said.

Kenma nodded understandingly.

“Give me a minute and I’ll get up and grab my keys.”

Kuroo was steaming in a focus room. He was trying to calm himself down in the half hour before he was finally able to leave. He wished his appointment with his therapist was in twenty minutes rather than the day after. He looked up at the sound of the door sliding open. He didn’t really want to see anyone he worked with, but as far as coworkers went, his friend on the social media team was the best option. At least Kuroo didn’t have to mask around him.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, closing out his tabs.

“I just wanted to say that when I accepted my job offer to work for the JVA, I didn’t realize how pornographic it would be.”

Kuroo glanced around nervously. Was he trying to lose both of them their jobs? In that moment, he may not have minded all that much if he got fired, but he didn’t want to go down like that.

“What are you talking about?” Kuroo asked.

He probably could have figured it out if he thought long enough about it, but his brain was fried. He was told off one too many times that day for things that weren’t even close to being his fault. All he wanted to do was go home and stem the emotions flowing out of him. A cold drink should do the trick no problem.

“The frequency with which I watch our office twunk get railed by management is obscene.”

Kuroo wasn’t sure exactly how to respond to that. Did anyone know how to respond to that?

“It’s been a rough day,” Kuroo admitted, trusting the other man’s judgment that there was nobody around to overhear him, “I don’t know what I did to make everyone think that every single problem in the volleyball world is my fault.”

“Yeah. It’s a mess,” he said, “If you want to blow off some steam tonight, I’m free. You can even be the one doing the railing if that’s the position you play.”

It took Kuroo second to process the words that were being said to him. Again, he was in a place of work. How was he supposed to respond to that?

“I have a boyfriend,” Kuroo said, staring at him blankly.

He wasn’t in the mood for banter.

“Do you actually like this one?”

”So, you single?” Kuroo’s coworker asked, “I wanna be forward here. I’m into you, hardcore.”

“I have a boyfriend,” Kuroo said, the words heavy in his mouth.

He wasn’t going to cheat. He had no desire to do so, nor did he even like his coworker like that, but lately, acknowledging that Kenma was his boyfriend felt like a drag.

“Do you like your boyfriend?” His coworker asked, his eyebrows shooting up before finishing the thought, “I’m just messing with you. I’m not surprised you have someone to love.”

It took Kuroo far too long to search his brain for the answer to the mostly rhetorical question.

Kuroo closed his laptop far too aggressively.

“Yes,” Kuroo said, the word coming out sharper than intended, “I do.”

“Well, that’s good,” he said, “At least you have someone to rail then.”

Kuroo rolled his eyes. What happened to minding your own business? Quite literally nobody, except perhaps maybe his therapist, needed to know he wasn’t boning his boyfriend because he was terrified of intimacy and the distinct possibility of losing control. His coworkers certainly weren’t on the need to know list, even the ones he liked more than others.

“Things aren’t there yet, not that you particularly need to know that,” Kuroo said pointedly, unsure of why he was saying it.

Kuroo saw a shift in the man’s face from playfulness to concern. Perhaps he was beginning to realize that getting under Kuroo’s skin after a nightmare day wasn’t exactly his brightest plan. Post-railing or not, the office twunk could throw a punch.

“Sorry to get into your business. I’ll let you be, but I’m happy for you, you know? I’m glad you found someone who doesn’t suck the life out of you. You seem much happier now than when you were when you were with that video game dude. Well, besides today, but who can blame you for that? Motherfucking Theresa would be lifeless if she had your day.”

He didn’t need a reminder that he ruined the only important relationship of his life because he was too immature to recognize and fix his own shit. He also didn’t need a reminder that he disrespected Kenma to others. He also definitely didn’t need a reminder that maybe he was going to fuck it up this time too.

“I didn’t ask. I didn’t fucking ask your opinion on my dating life. It’s not your place to judge who I do or do not date and it is certainly not your place to make assumptions about who or what makes me happy. One of us is working on getting our life together and fixing things we screwed up and the other one of us is a mean office gossip right out of a sitcom. I’m gonna let you guess who is who.”

Each word felt better and better rolling off his tongue. Even though he had the wherewithal not to yell in the office, spitting each syllable with an overtone of acid felt so satisfying. He was angry because he had been told off for things that weren’t his fault. The telling off he was doing was instead righteous, effectively transferring that injustice by directing it at someone who was actually guilty of something.

“Okay,” the man said, dragging out the word, “Same guy, huh? Hope things go better this time.”

“Get out of my face.”

The first thing to go was his work bag. He discarded it on the floor, not even caring if it damaged his laptop. After a day of corporate disrespect, interpersonal carnage, and a rage inducing commute, he couldn’t care less if he broke it beyond repair.

Next was his tie. He wrestled it off and tossed it at the wall. His fingers went to his belt and pulled hard at it, trying to get it off. He fumbled as he unbuckled it, but instead of pulling it all the way out, he moved his shaky fingers to his zipper to take the pants off entirely. He kicked them off and grunted loudly when he tripped over them. He only barely stopped himself from screaming as his palms made contact with the floor.

He stomped into the kitchen and pulled a half-empty bottle of liquor from his freezer. He wrenched the cap open and then froze. He was supposed to start keeping track of the days he drank.

He could put it in his phone calendar like he was tracking his cycle. Alternatively, he could buy a calendar, but the year was nearly over. The concept of buying a physical calendar was ridiculous, but something about the thought of taping one to Kenma’s fridge made a sickening satisfaction curl in his chest. Kenma would be face to face with the painfully awkward reality of the situation.

How was he supposed to label it? A small little ‘x’ or perhaps an ‘A’ for alcoholic?

He considered it more as he unbuttoned his shirt. Both his thoughts and movements were jagged and inefficient as anger ruled them both.

He tossed his button down on the counter and wrestled off his undershirt before tossing that as well.

He grabbed the bottle and swallowed an enormous mouthful. It burned, almost bad enough to make him cough, but he managed to choke it down. If he was only allowed to drink during a limited number of days in a week, he might as well make the most of it when he was able to drink. He knew that the more he had, the more he’d feel better. Better than that, Kenma said it wasn’t any of his business what or how much Kuroo drank, so he wasn’t even violating any rules. There was nothing wrong with what he was doing.

He set the bottle down on his counter with a thud and took out his phone. He opened his notes app and typed the date into an otherwise empty note. He then threw the phone on top of the shirts and grabbed the bottle for another go.

He took another sip from the bottle. His stomach turned, but he went for another one, ignoring the involuntary shudder that went through his body.

He was supposed to be thinking about their relationship and coming to complete acceptance of their terms, but he couldn’t focus on them. He’d started by wallowing in his own mistakes, but then he decided he was being too hard on himself. It wasn’t like Kenma was flawless either. He felt bad as he thought it, but it was true.

One of Kenma’s flaws was that he wasn’t as flawed as he thought he was. Kenma was always incredibly hard on himself, picking away at every last moment, every last centimeter of himself. He thought he was ugly. He thought he was boring. He thought he was dumb. He thought he was lacking in every aspect. He wasn’t right, but somehow believing in all of those things brought them a notch closer to being true. His insecurities cut deep and they often formed an obstacle, preventing everyone, including himself, from being truly intimate with him. It was awkward to deal with, but more than that, it was a shame, and idiosyncratic to the rest of him. He built up an idealistic version of everything else but his own damn self, which he constantly devalued. He thought Kuroo was a well-functioning, capable, and delightful member of society, which was objectively untrue. He also seemed to think that their relationship was rock solid and could bounce back from anything, which was objectively delusional. The only good thing of the three was Kenma, but Kenma didn’t agree.

Lines of thoughts about the overlapping ways Kenma was flawed were interrupted by streaks of guilt at even thinking about it, which were interrupted by the acknowledgment that his own flaws vastly outnumbered Kenma’s, which was interrupted by a firm sense of dread that the ways their flaws overlapped left a non-viable relationship between them. Memories and examples of all of these things flitted by him and he was unable to keep any of his thoughts in focus or even separate enough from one another to actually consider them.

Suddenly, his brain latched onto a memory and everything went quiet. The swirling of thoughts and emotions inside of his head and the white noise surrounding him all blurred into nothingness.

He was wrong.

He absolutely did tell Kenma he’d move in right away. It was the morning after Kenma’s birthday party. He was sitting there at Kenma’s table, coffee in hand. He said he would do it. There was no question in his mind. He had completely forgotten that part of their conversation.

The realization hit him heavily. All things considered, it wasn’t the worst mishap, but he did feel terrible for mistakenly insisting that he never said anything, especially about something so important. He was angry at himself for not remembering and for not even giving the possibility that Kenma was right a chance. He clenched his hand around the neck of the bottle. He wondered if he could break it. He wanted to break it, to destroy something. He knew it would make him feel better. However, instead of destruction, Kuroo just folded his hands in his lap. He didn’t think he was sober enough to clean up shattered glass without accidentally cutting himself.

The anger soon ebbed into sadness, into shame, into loneliness. He slouched there for a long time, motionless save for sipping out of the bottle. He had friends. He had a boyfriend, but he never felt more alone. He was doing the absolute best he could, and yet, he still wasn’t fixed. He still wasn’t all the way happy. He was angry, drunk, sad, and tired. All it took was one bad day and he suddenly turned back into the person he was. Worst of all, Kenma, the person who meant the most to him, wasn’t even involved. The blow was enough to revert him back to who he used to be and it wasn’t even a precise hit. Clearly there wasn’t much distance between who he was in that moment and who he was years before. All of that work and he was hardly any different.

At one point, he sighed and ghosted a hand over the front of his underwear. He wanted to feel something, wanted to feel something good. It didn’t take him more than a few touches to realize that he would have to come up with a different plan. His body seemed to be out of commission for certain activities.

He longed for someone else to touch him, to help alleviate his loneliness. He wanted to sleep in Kenma’s bed. He wanted Kenma in his arms. He wanted Kenma’s hands all over him. He wanted Kenma to kiss him. He wanted Kenma to get him off. He wanted his body to know Kenma again, but he knew that was a bad idea. If one bad day at work was enough to unravel him, letting his hormones control him was a terrible idea. Kenma could be naked and vulnerable and Kuroo in the heat of the moment could say something to ruin it all. He didn’t trust the man he was while he was on autopilot.

His chest ached and he tried to soothe himself. He told himself that they’d get there eventually, that he’d be able to make it work, but he was afraid, so afraid.

He mulled it over as he got up to get his phone. The movement was much more difficult than it should have been. He lurched in different directions and couldn’t get both of his legs to cooperate at once. He was thankfully able to retrieve it and return to his spot on the couch without any notable issues.

He flicked through the few photos he had of them from before the breakup. He wondered if Kenma had more. He had deleted them all from his camera roll and social media in a fit of rage after their breakup. The ones he had left were ones he was able to recover from other sources, like one of Kenma’s old social media accounts or photos of them taken by their friends and posted online. One of the pictures was saved from the burning of the Library of Alexandria for a different reason. By nature of being so old, the facial recognition software didn’t even recognize Kenma’s face, so it didn’t end up in the delete pile. The software wasn’t perfect, but it didn’t help that little Kenma was staring at the ground so there wasn’t a clear view of his face. Little Kuroo, on the other hand, was staring straight at the camera, beaming, and had his arms wrapped around the dejected little Kenma.

“Kenma, smile,” his father begged, “It’s your last first day as an elementary schooler!”

Kenma just grumbled and continued looking at the ground. Kuroo knew why. Kenma had told him that he didn’t want to be an elementary schooler anymore. He wanted to go to the big kid school with Kuroo. It was also possible that Kenma argued he was smarter than Kuroo so he shouldn’t have to be a year behind, but Kuroo was ignoring that part. He would miss seeing Kenma in the hallways too. He understood.

Kuroo wrapped his arms around Kenma and smiled at the camera.

“That’s okay!” Kuroo said, “I’ll smile for the both of us!”

Kenma stepped on his foot but Kuroo just kept smiling.

He flipped to the next photo in the Kenma album, which was taken from a set of photos posted on Akaashi’s social media. They were much older, in college. Kuroo was sitting on their ugly couch and Kenma was sitting in his lap, nestled against his chest, fast asleep.

Kuroo heard the knock on the door, but he ignored it. Bokuto and Akaashi could let themselves in. He wasn’t going to get up, nor was he going to yell that they could enter. He didn’t want to wake Kenma. He’d been working so many hours and wasn’t getting nearly enough sleep, so allowing him to extend his nap was a no brainer.

Sure enough, the two let themselves in.

“Hey-“ Bokuto said before lowering his voice, “Sorry. How’s it going? ”

Kuroo nodded.

“Fine,” he whispered, “How are y’all?”

He noticed Akaashi take out his phone to take a picture, so he smiled at him.

“Good,” Bokuto whispered, “We actually just-“

Suddenly, Kenma startled awake, panicking as he removed himself from Kuroo’s lap. Kuroo winced, before subsequently pretending the swift exit didn’t lead to Kenma’s hand accidentally whacking his dick in the process.

“Oh my god,” Kenma said, “Why didn’t you wake me up? I’m so sorry, you guys.”

“It’s no problem,” Akaashi said, “Like not vaguely a big deal.”

“No. This is embarrassing. I’m so embarrassed,” Kenma said, glaring at Kuroo, “Sorry.”

Kuroo grabbed at his hand but Kenma dodged him and moved himself to the other end of the couch. No public displays of affection.

The next photo in the album was taken no more than a few minutes after the first. Bokuto was sitting on the couch in between the two of them. He had his arms around them both. Kuroo leaned in, but Kenma pressed himself against the armrest.

For the first time that night, Kuroo felt a wave of calm come over him. He loved Kenma. Many things in his life came with a heavy dosage of doubt, but not that. He loved Kenma more than anything or anyone else. Kuroo figured that even if he eventually ruined everything and their relationship crashed and burned in the end, simply having the privilege of trying again was worth it. He fully internalized that thought and desperately wished he was with Kenma. If he were sober, maybe he would ask to sleep over, specifically in Kenma’s bed. He was already feeling warm due to the liquor. It would be the ultimate cozy cuddling scenario. It had been something he’d been wanting to do, but he wasn’t sober enough to make the decision. However, if sober Kuroo also wanted to do it, clearly it wasn’t too crazy. He debated many issues internally. What mode would he use to contact Kenma? What would he say? What time should he do it? Should they do it at Kenma’s? How would he even get there? Take the train?

It took quite a long time for him to think through all of the possibilities. After a rigorous examination of possible plans, he landed on one that seemed both effective and like something his sober self would not later object to.

He felt good as he picked up his phone and called Kenma. He was going to finally do it. It would be the perfect way to combat the loneliness deep inside. He was a second away from whimpering at the thought of being cuddled into Kenma’s arms.

As the phone continued to ring, he frowned. Kenma not picking up would ruin his plan, which was unfortunate, because planning the original plan was hard enough.

Thankfully, after the third or fourth ring, he answered.

“Hey, sweets,” Kenma said.

He was Kenma’s sweets. What a delightful sentiment.

“Hey, babe,” Kuroo said, “What are you up to?”

It was a vital question. Kenma’s answer would determine whether the plan was a go or not.

“I’m just getting ready for bed but I’m happy to stay up to talk,” Kenma said, “What’s up?”

“I’ve been thinking. Can I come over and sleep with you?” Kuroo asked.

He gestured like he was entering a business negotiation, not that Kenma could see him or know that he was doing it. He was going to have to thread the needle to get Kenma to agree and hoped that some embodied cognition would do the trick.

“Yes, obviously,” Kenma said, “You mean now?”

That was much easier than he thought it would be. He didn’t expect Kenma to just immediately agree without a fight.

“Mhm,” Kuroo hummed before taking another sip.

“Yeah, just come on over,” Kenma said, “I’ll get ready.”

Get what ready? There wasn’t much preparation needed, especially since Kenma was already planning on going to bed. Also, why did he say it like that? That wasn’t the main issue, though.

“So, I actually can’t drive tonight,” Kuroo said, “So, I was wondering if you could come get me. It’s like no biggie if not though. I can probs make the train work if I gotta.”

“Wait, are you-“ Kenma said, pausing for a second, “Drunk right now?”

“Well, yes,” Kuroo said.

“I’m not sleeping with you if you’re-” Kenma said, “Oh. That’s not what you meant. Yeah. That’s fine. Yeah. I’ll come get you. Give me a few minutes.”

Kuroo giggled. Kenma thought he meant sleeping with like having sex, not like just sleeping in a bed. He was thrilled to hear that Kenma would want to have sex with him even given the circumstances. Maybe Kenma was less upset with him than he thought.

“You’d wanna fuck even though I didn’t move in with you? I’m pretty sure the internet would tell you that’s a horrible idea. Like, I don’t think it’s a horrible idea, but they would. They’d call me a red flag I think.”

“I trust you enough that I feel comfortable making potentially bad decisions with you,” Kenma said, “Also, I haven’t gotten laid in such a long time. The last person I slept with was you, so you can do the math on how long it’s been. I’m not even sure I remember what it feels like for someone else to get me off. At this rate, I’m actually regrowing my virginity. I’m at minimum halfway to becoming a monk. I’m somewhat concerned that my dick has become a hermit and will hide if it sees anyone else.”

They’d come so far. Kenma trusted him enough to go out on a ledge with him. Kenma knew that Kuroo would get it together.

“Oh my god. That’s so sweet.”

Kenma didn’t respond, or maybe the phone volume was too low for Kuroo to hear the response. He pressed at the buttons to increase the volume.

“Kenma?”

“I’m hanging up now,” Kenma said, “I’ll text you when I get there.”

Kuroo finished off the bottle with a satisfied smile.

“Thanks, babe. Love you.”

Kenma laughed.

“I love you, too.”

He had to get up. Kenma would be there soon and he wasn’t even wearing a shirt. Or pants for that matter. He felt around the bathroom floor for his phone so he could check the time, but he couldn’t find it. He went to stand but his stomach flipped. He was able to get his head over the toilet just in time.

He took a long second to steady himself before getting into a crouched position. He had to get it together enough to hang with Kenma. He would take it one step at a time.

He breathed deeply, in and out, before standing up and using the counter to brace himself.

“Kuro?”

Kuroo jumped. If he hadn’t been leaned against the counter, he may very well have fallen over.

Why was Kenma in his apartment?

Kuroo squinted in the darkness, once again trying to find his phone. On the other end of the counter, he saw that the screen was gently reflecting the hallway light. He threw his weight to the side enough to grab it. It was way later than he thought, and he’d missed multiple texts and calls from Kenma.

“Kuro?”

Kenma’s voice was much closer.

“Fuck,” Kuroo whispered, “One sec.”

“Kuro?”

Kuroo shut his eyes as a phone flashlight flashed across his face.

“Hey, sorry,” Kuroo said.

Kenma flipped the light on and Kuroo stared down at the counter. He didn’t want to see the way Kenma was looking at him.

“Oh, Kuro,” Kenma said, rubbing a hand between his shoulder blades.

Kuroo briefly glanced at him to see that he was wearing pajamas, slippers, and Kuroo’s hoodie. He clearly hadn’t been intending to leave his car.

“I’m aware this isn’t a great look for me,” Kuroo said, pure embarrassment flowing through him.

He was a fucking mess.

“Do you do this often?” Kenma asked.

Kuroo squeezed his eyes shut. He was able to estimate that he got sick from drinking less than monthly- maybe once every three months- but he didn’t quite know what often meant.

“No,” Kuroo said, “Not as much as you assume.”

It helped to focus on the feeling of Kenma’s cold hand against his overheated skin. It took the attention off the nausea.

“I don’t assume anything,” Kenma said, plainly, “Are you feeling like you’re through it? Or do you need more time?”

“I mean, I think I’m fine now, but like, I would need a minute to figure that out.”

Getting the words out was torturous. Why did he think it was a good idea to call Kenma?

“That’s alright,” Kenma said, “You take your time. Take a nice shower. Brush your teeth. Then you can sleep it off. You’ll honestly be less hungover in the morning since you got it all out of your system.”

Sure, the hangover would be less bad, but he was pretty sure the sheer embarrassment that was weighing on him wouldn’t fade away.

“I’m so sorry. You drove all the way here.”

“It’s no biggie,” Kenma said, moving his hand to Kuroo’s shoulder, “Take care of yourself. We will have so many other nights.”

Kuroo clenched his jaw to try to ward off his tears.

He carefully set his toothbrush down on the counter. The shower had helped significantly and so did brushing his teeth, but his body was still a wreck. He was still head nauseous and stomach nauseous, which was incredibly unfair. It should have been one or the other. Just as awfully, he was the worst combination of intoxicated and aware. His body was clumsy and his emotions were sloshing, but his brain was stone cold sober and it was forcefully dragging the other parts of him along, the merciless corralling the useless.

With uncoordinated movements he filled the mouthwash cap up to the line and then tipped it into his mouth. Immediately and resoundingly, his body rejected the liquid. It didn’t know the difference between mouthwash and a shot. The muscle movement was the same. The bite was the same. His stomach wasn’t willing to take any chances, and it lurched heavily as he tried to spit it out without throwing up again. A tear leaked from the corner of his eye as he barely managed it.

Once he felt like he was ready to move again, he put on the shirt he was planning on wearing to Kenma’s and a pair of underwear. He certainly did not need pants in order to go to bed.

He took one deep breath before walking out of the bathroom and heading towards his bedroom. He couldn’t wait to be unconscious, but he knew sleep would be hard to come by. Maybe he could pen his apology text to Kenma in the meantime.

The second he walked through his bedroom door, his heart sank. Inside of his bedroom, the strict silence he’d been leaning against was replaced by soft snoring. It took his eyes a minute to focus in the dark, but once they did, he saw exactly what he expected to see.

For what reason was Kenma sleeping in his bed?

He crouched down in front of the bed, trying to figure out what to do. He didn’t want to wake Kenma up. Kuroo could sleep on the floor or the couch, more likely the floor because his legs were too long to fit comfortably on the couch. That wasn’t an issue in the slightest. He was more concerned about Kenma. Had Kenma planned on staying the night? Did he have an alarm set? Did he have his medications? Would he need anything from his house before heading to work in the morning?

Kuroo gently brushed his fingers against Kenma’s arm. He couldn’t be complicit in Kenma accidentally ruining his own morning.

“Hey, hey, you fell asleep,” Kuroo whispered.

Kenma’s eyes popped open and he yawned.

“Mm, hey babe. Ready for bed?” Kenma asked, his voice cloudy with sleep.

He gestured at the empty space on the other side of him. Kuroo didn’t want to get into the bed.

“I thought you were leaving,” Kuroo explained, “I would have gotten ready much quicker. I’m sorry. I just- I didn’t realize that- I’m sorry-“

Kenma waved him off with a tiny, lazy wave.

“Yeah. Didn’t say I was staying because I didn’t want you to rush or feel like you had to get me to leave or whatever. Feeling any better now that you’re cleaned up?”

Embarrassment found its way back to the forefront of Kuroo’s emotions. The entire situation was excruciating. Why couldn’t Kenma have just declared it- him- a lost cause and driven home? Kuroo could suffer by himself. It was what he deserved.

“If you’re too tired to drive, I’ll get you a cab,” Kuroo said, “Then I can drive to your place in your car in the morning and you can drive me to work and I’ll take the train home.”

Kenma was obviously the one of the pair that could afford the cab more easily, but it was Kuroo’s fault that Kenma had stayed, so it was his responsibility to get Kenma home.

“Mm, thank you, but I’m sleeping over.”

“You hate being here, and you have work tomorrow.”

Kenma reached forward to grab Kuroo’s wrists and pulled them up towards him.

“Get up here,” Kenma said, “You wanted to sleep with me right? I’m here, in a bed, ready to be slept with.”

It was what he wanted, but not like that. It was all wrong.

“Kenma-“

Kenma pulled again.

“I mean, I’ll sleep on the couch if you want, but I’m not leaving so if you want to sleep with me then do it.”

Kenma released his wrists and moved back in the bed, presumably to make it easier for Kuroo to get in.

“Kenma. I’m sorry.”

He was glad the lights were off. The nausea wracking him was more than the leftover discomfort from his body trying to save him from his decisions. Embarrassment and shame took turns slamming against him like tides against a shore. His face was burning and he felt hot all over. He never should have called Kenma. He should have just kept his mess to himself. Other people didn’t deserve to be forced to clean up his mess.

“Sorry for what?” Kenma asked, “You’re kicking me to the couch?”

“No. I’m-“

Kenma lunged forward. Kuroo wasn’t sure if the movement was actually fast or if his reaction time was just vastly inhibited. He was unable to decide by the time Kenma’s hand grasped his shirt and started to pull him up.

“Then in that case, I’m in charge of the bed, and I’m telling you to get in it.”

Clearly Kuroo was in no position to disobey a direct order. He crawled up onto the bed and for one horrible moment, he thought the jostling of his body was going to make him throw up again, right then, right there. He took a second to steady his stomach, swallowing hard before awkwardly lying down next to Kenma. He didn’t dare reach out to touch him. He didn’t dare to even look at him. He just breathed the tiniest of breaths, not even wanting his rib cage to expand enough to take up more room. He wanted to shrivel and shrink into himself until he wasn’t taking up any room at all. He didn’t deserve the space he took up with his stupid lanky body. He scooted down in the bed so his head wouldn’t even touch the pillow.

Kenma breathed a laugh and Kuroo was ready for ridicule.

“What?” Kuroo mumbled.

He deserved whatever mean comment Kenma could think to say to him, whatever ruler Kenma could find to snap against his knuckles.

“You’re like a middle schooler keeping your hands to yourself. Do you want me to put up a pillow wall between us too? Like I know it’s kinda gay to touch the dude you’re in bed next to, but I thought we were past that point.”

Kuroo turned on his side to face Kenma, again glad that it was too dark to see well. He didn’t think he’d be able to bear the eye contact, not that there’d be much with Kenma involved. He gingerly set his hand on Kenma’s waist, but Kenma moved himself, pressing their bodies together. He used one of his arms to wrap around Kuroo and the other one to hold the side of Kuroo’s face against his chest.

Kuroo took another tiny breath in and let the smell of Kenma’s lotion wash over him. It smelled like many wonderful moments between them. He wished it didn’t. It just reminded him that he’d been wanting to sleep next to Kenma for so long and he ruined what should have been a sweet first, a beautiful night between them, and instead turned it into a painful, embarrassing affair. The longer he laid in Kenma’s arms the more the shame ate at him.

“I’m so sorry, Kenma-“ he started, his voice cracking.

“Shhh,” Kenma whispered, brushing over Kuroo’s hair, “You’re all good. It’s okay.”

Kuroo’s stomach was throbbing. The embarrassment, the alcohol, and the need to cry all took their separate tolls.

“It’s not okay,” Kuroo said, “I’m stupid and brash and I’m fucking trashed and I’m not-“

“You’re fine,” Kenma said.

“I’m supposed to be better.”

He had to be better. He wasn’t sure if there was much worse.

“Shhh. You’re so, so good. Things take time and so will all of this, and that’s okay. I’ll spend the time with you anyway so you can take all the time you need.”

Hot tears slid from Kuroo’s eyes and rolled down into Kenma’s shirt. He didn’t deserve Kenma’s kind words, and Kenma didn’t deserve a wet shirt, but that seemed to be a recurring theme between them. Kenma was compassionate to a fault, and that fault was Kuroo.

“I’m so sorry,” Kuroo mumbled, “You deserve someone who is good like you not someone who could maybe be good sometime in the fut-“

Kuroo’s voice caught on a sob. He shivered as the wracking of his body bore down on his stomach, reasserting the nausea. He couldn’t throw up again. He couldn’t throw up again. He couldn’t throw up again.

“Shhh. Come here,” Kenma said, holding Kuroo even tighter, “You and I are both people trying to be better people. We’re the exact same. You’re hardly recognizable as the man I broke up with. Now when you do things that throw me off, you remind me more of the you from when we first started dating than the you now. That’s how different you are. I don’t even recognize it as you now.”

The tears spilled faster. He was still doing things that reminded Kenma of who he used to be. He was doing his best and it still wasn’t good enough.

“I’m not as good as you. I’ll never be as good as you.”

As it was, Kuroo was painfully drunk and sobbing and Kenma was picking up the pieces. It was exactly the scenario that Kuroo tried to warn him of in the parking garage, but Kenma didn’t listen. He never did.

“Shhh. You’re missing something. Just being broken up forced me to fix myself. I had no choice. I had no choice but to give you space because you were gone. I had no choice but to become independent in social situations because I was alone. Half of my list is things I had no choice but to practice for so long.”

Kuroo left him alone. He was the reason Kenma was so alone that it fundamentally altered him as a person. Sleep was trying to take him under, but between snaps of unconsciousness, he drowned instead in the reality that he permanently changed Kenma against his will.

“Because you’re able to change,” Kuroo said, desperately wanting Kenma to claim the credit he deserved, “You’ve even got the other stuff down.”

“You don’t get it. I’ve been in the perfect situation to succeed, and how do you even know if I’ve been having work-life balance? You don’t even live with me yet,” Kenma said, smoothing Kuroo’s hair, “I’m not perfect and I’m going to mess up. A lot. I already do.”

Kuroo was aiming for a defiant shake of his head, but the tiredness didn’t allow more than a centimeter of movement.

“Don’t say that,” Kuroo said, the words coming at a great effort, “You’re so good.”

He didn’t want his insecurity to be contagious and infect Kenma. He had to put a stop to it.

“You sound exhausted,” Kenma said, “Let’s get some sleep. We can talk about this later when you’re more rested.”

Kuroo wanted to fight him, to force Kenma to drop his kind words and just admit that he was simply trying to make Kuroo feel better about not being good enough, but he wasn’t sure that he had the energy. Exhaustion pulled at him with each word he said.

“I don’t,” Kuroo started, not sure how to finish the thought, “You’re wrong.”

“That’s fine. You can think I’m wrong until we talk about this again, tomorrow or whenever you want,” Kenma said, “The only thing I need you to know right now is that I love you.”

Kenma was wrong again.

“Don’t.”

Loving him was a mistake.

“Right now, in this very bed, in this very moment, I love you.”

Kuroo felt a kiss on his temple and then he-

Between his head pounding against his skull and the waves of nausea overtaking him, he was somehow still better off immediately upon waking before he remembered the night before.

Had he simply imagined it? He had been rather intoxicated. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d created a false memory from drinking, nor would it likely be the last.

He carefully sat up, the bright light filtering through his windows, increasing the war in his head. In the middle of the floor, he noticed the hoodie he’d left for Kenma. He swallowed. So Kenma had been there, had seen him like that, and had heard him say all of those things. Kuroo was going to vomit.

For a brief moment, worry overtook him as he wondered if Kenma had returned the hoodie because he was returning it permanently as recompense for breaking up with Kuroo, but even with his scattered, hungover brain, he was pretty sure that Kenma wouldn’t do that. Or would he? He supposed it was possible that Kenma waited until he was sober to break it off. That’d be the compassionate thing to do, so Kuroo thought it was possible, or maybe it took Kenma until the morning to realize it wasn’t worth the strife anymore. However, he still wasn’t sure Kenma would do that. Kenma seemed to be in it for the long haul. Whether that was smart of him or not was another question entirely.

Kuroo felt around his sheets for his phone. He had no idea what time it was and he was desperately hoping that he hadn’t slept through his work alarm. He ended up finding it tucked under the pillow his head hadn’t touched, and forgot to look at the time entirely. He had a few texts from Kenma, so he clicked into them immediately. He didn’t need to show up to work on time, but he did need to make sure that Kenma didn’t hate him, or at least that Kenma didn’t hate him enough to do anything about it.

Chapter Text

Sitting in his chair in his therapist’s office had become much more comfortable since the first time he’d done it. As the environment became more familiar and he leaned into the concept that therapy was an acceptable thing for a man to do in his spare time, he became more relaxed each time he sat there. However, this time was an exception. As he sank down, he wanted to keep going and melt into the floor. It was going to be a long session, and it was going to be an incredibly embarrassing one. He wondered if he could just walk out and leave. Being embarrassed was bad enough; Having to be vulnerable while being embarrassed was excruciating.

“Welcome,” his therapist said, “How have you been doing?”

Kuroo swallowed as his therapist wrote something down in his notepad. He knew what he was writing, probably an intake note including the fact that Kuroo’s disposition was clearly off.

“There’s been a lot of things that’ve occurred since the last time we’ve talked,” Kuroo said.

The words were like cement in his mouth. Why couldn’t he ever have an uneventful week? He wondered if things in his life were escalating or if he just decided that more and more things could and should be discussed in therapy.

“Long week, huh?” the therapist said, “So what do you want to talk about first? Let’s prioritize.”

Nothing. He didn’t want to talk about anything. He wanted to grab a beer and go to bed. The fact that it was eleven in the morning was not of consequence.

“So, I might have borderline cussed out a coworker, I’m struggling to accept changes in my relationship, Kenma and I had to awkwardly set these weird relationship boundary things, and also I probably just did irreparable damage to my relationship. I’m kinda losing my mind right now.”

His therapist nodded.

“I’m sorry to hear that your stress level is understandably through the roof right now. It sounds like it’s been a nightmare week. Where do you want to start?”

He didn’t really want to pick. The coworker debacle was what he wanted to choose if he had to. That one would be easy to deal with and would fill time without being too stressful, but it also wasn’t terribly beneficial to discuss. His anger was somewhat justified, but he probably should have been calmer and more professional in his dealings with his coworker. Perhaps he should have considered using his coping mechanisms, but using coping mechanisms was much less fun than just letting it rip. He wasn’t really concerned about the encounter, especially since his coworker seemed to pretend that it hadn’t happened when they ran into each other at the beginning of the day, so it wasn’t worth bringing up, but it would be the easiest therapy conversation to have.

“I want to start with ruining my relationship since that’s the most pressing and most recent thing but the things are all like intertwined so I don’t know if starting there makes sense.”

Choosing where to start was impossible. His messes were all an enormous but gross bowl of ramen, and instead of there being many noodles, it was just one really long gross noodle spun around itself at length.

“That’s fine. We can fill in context when it’s needed,” his therapist said, “Start where you want and we can snake around if we have to.”

Kuroo nodded. There would be a lot of snaking necessary.

“I’m going to start with the irreparable damage part, but for context, before we get into it, you should probably know that Kenma had me agree to stop drinking, and I did agree.”

His therapist had some sort of expression on his face that Kuroo couldn’t read. Confusion? Surprise? Surprised confusion?

“Permanently?” the therapist asked, “Can you clarify what you mean by that?”

“Permanently, sort of, it’s not important for right now, though. Just know that I said I wouldn’t drink.”

It would be permanent for as long as they stayed together. The finality of it sat heavily- but not uncomfortably- in his stomach.

“Interesting,” the therapist said, “That seems like it would have been rough. I look forward to getting back to that.”

“Alrighty,” Kuroo said, letting out a hesitant breath, “Let’s get into it.”

Even just thinking about it was enough to make him cringe. As he finished explaining it all, each word took a toll on him. He was exhausted.

“I just feel like I ruined it all. I don’t know how Kenma could look at me the same way,” Kuroo concluded, “I can’t even look at me the same way. It’s embarrassing. It’s excruciating.”

His therapist nodded at him.

“So, have the two of you talked since then?”

Kuroo swallowed.

“Yeah. He texted me before I woke up.“

The texts were burning a hole in Kuroo’s pocket. It wasn’t abnormal for them not to text before lunchtime, but the situation at hand was different, and Kuroo knew that. However, that didn’t make it any less difficult to figure out how to reply. If he wasn’t spending his lunch break on therapy, he probably would have used it to craft a response.

“Can you read me the texts if you don’t mind? You could also just show me if you’re comfortable with that. I want to try to parse out how he’s feeling.”

Kuroo really didn’t want to talk about the texts. He pulled out his phone and opened his conversation with Kenma.

“He said, ‘Hi love. Hope you’re feeling okay. Let me know if you need anything. Swapped out the hoodie for the blue one with the arm stripes let me know if you actually needed it for some reason and I can drop it off lol. Also I’m free tonight if you wanna hang. No pressure or anything it’s okay if not. Anyway have a better day at work,” Kuroo read from his phone, “Those were like five different texts, not all in one paragraph.”

It probably didn’t need to be clarified, but he wasn’t sure if there was something of therapy relevance in the formatting of texts. A long moment of silence stretched between them.

“Remind me what the last thing he said to you before you fell asleep was. I know you already told me, but I want to just make sure I have it correct.”

Kuroo had to unclench his teeth to respond. He hadn’t noticed that his stress had manifested physically in that way.

“He told me he loved me, specifically that he loved me in that moment.”

“Mhm,” his therapist hummed, “And what did he do or say to make you think that you did irreparable damage to your relationship?”

Kuroo squeezed his eyes shut.

“It was really bad. I was literally crying all over the place and sloppy. Like I couldn’t stop spitting my insecurities in his face. It was like a train wreck if the train knew it was wrecking and yet couldn’t stop doing that like the conductor could have hit the breaks but was just not doing that for some reason. I don’t know how to describe it. The train conductor somehow knew better than to crash and didn’t want to crash but didn’t stop himself from crashing.”

He wondered how long he could reasonably keep his eyes closed without it becoming weird. It somehow took the pressure off his words. He wondered if that was how Kenma felt and why he made scant eye contact. He really hoped that wasn’t the case. He didn’t want Kenma to feel that uncomfortable around him every time they talked. He didn’t want there to be any pressure that needed to be taken off. At least if that was the case, it wasn’t personal. Kenma had never made good eye contact. It wasn’t something that had newly developed between them.

“No, I get that,” the therapist said, “But what things did specifically Kenma say or do?”

Kuroo scoured his memory of the things Kenma said and the way he was acting. There had to be something.

“He was being pretty pushy with me at some points,” Kuroo said, “Like he wasn’t really hearing me out.”

He was mostly referring to Kenma practically dragging him onto the bed.

“Why do you think that is?”

“Because he was tired of me,” Kuroo said, folding his hands in his lap.

“I wasn’t there, so I don’t know what happened, but is there a chance Kenma thought that hearing you out would have made things worse? You said the conductor wasn’t stopping the train. Do you think he was just trying to help you hit the breaks?”

Kuroo considered that for a moment. It didn’t actually matter why Kenma was being stubborn. It was either because he was mad at Kuroo or because he was trying to fix Kuroo’s problem and therefore was mad at Kuroo.

“No. He was mad, and rightfully so.”

Kuroo watched his therapist circle something in his notes. He wanted to ask what it was, but he knew he wouldn’t get an answer.

“I’m not saying you’re wrong. I’m just saying that you should consider the possibility that Kenma isn’t as upset as you think he is,” he said, “If he hasn’t done or said anything beyond being short with you, then maybe he either isn’t upset or is not upset enough that he wants you to know about it.”

“Yeah, I know it seems like that, but Kenma isn’t exactly great at communicating. As a matter of fact, one of the things I told him he needed to work on was communicating proactively and honestly.”

As soon as he said it, it seemed unfair. Kenma had gotten much better and deserved credit for that.

“So, don’t you think it makes sense to give him the benefit of the doubt and a chance to prove himself?” he suggested, “If it’s bothering you, bring it up, but let him be the one to communicate with you. Do you trust him?”

Kuroo paused. There was a war raging in his head. His steadfast belief that he was fucking everything up sat firmly at odds with his belief that Kenma had become a competent communicator. He knew that he had screwed up, and badly at that, but he also knew that Kenma probably would have told him that. Maybe he was just thinking about it too early. There was still time for Kenma to communicate to him. Both beliefs could yet be true.

“I guess,” Kuroo said.

He didn’t think he was wrong, but he also didn’t want to keep arguing with his therapist on the topic. It wouldn’t get them anywhere.

“You’ve been so careful and so intentional with handling everything. Why don’t you sit back for this one thing? Don’t worry about it. If Kenma has a problem, it’s his job to explain that to you. It’s fine to prompt him, but don’t you think you’ve come far enough that you deserve not to be so on edge?”

Kuroo craved that comfort, but it terrified him. If he let his guard down for even a moment, what if it was the wrong time to do so and his laxness led to a fatal blow? The reason he was so intentional was because he had to be to ensure that everything would be okay. To sit back felt like a betrayal of that duty.

“I’ll do that,” Kuroo said, not sure if he actually meant it, “Since we’re going to talk about it, there’s no reason not to trust him until then.”

His therapist smiled at him and Kuroo felt an odd sense of warmth come over him. It was a clear indication that he at least needed to try.

“Good. Let me know how it goes.”

Kuroo nodded. He tried to tell himself that there’d be nothing to discuss, that it’d all be fine, but deep down he didn’t believe it.

“I will.”

He briefly ran through the options of what else to discuss in their session, but as it turned out, he didn’t need to come up with an answer.

“So, I have to ask. Can we return to Kenma asking you not to drink? I know we’re going to run out of time soon, but I think we can get through some of it now and the rest of it later. Also, feel free to book an appointment sooner than next week. You have a lot going on in your life right now.”

Kuroo wondered if it was the request or the fact that he agreed to it that stuck out more to his therapist.

“So, we had to set terms for our relationship to go forward and we had to bargain and agree on them and whatnot. It was his therapist’s idea.”

He felt somewhat crazy. Their relationship often felt somewhat crazy. He was pretty sure that normal people didn’t do the things they did.

“Sounds like a great way to get on the same page. How’d it go?”

“Most of the terms on both sides were things that were obvious problems and things we’ve already talked about, so they were non-issues,” Kuroo said, “But then Kenma dropped a bit of a bombshell. He wanted me to stop drinking.”

Kuroo glanced at the clock. They really weren’t going to have enough time to tackle everything he wanted to approach.

“Did he define a timeframe in a clear way? Because to me, I’m concerned about how fast this is. Just cold turkey? No more drinking? It’s no wonder you were drinking yesterday if that’s the case.”

Kuroo was somewhat disappointed. That was his first question about it? The timing? Not that Kenma had the audacity to demand it? Wasn’t his therapist supposed to be on his side?

“Yeah. He said I can only drink three days a week, but in his defense, he said the change didn’t need to be immediate.”

His therapist had one of the most neutral faces Kuroo had ever seen. The man could make a fortune playing poker, but his face cracked clear as day. Disbelief took over his features.

“To clarify, he asked you to contain your drinking to three days a week?”

Kuroo nodded.

“I mean, hardly ‘asked’ considering we can’t be together if I said no, so more like ‘required’, but close enough.”

“I see. It’s kind of interesting,” his therapist said, “Maybe I wasn’t hearing you properly the first time you brought it up, or I was just misunderstanding you, but I thought you said Kenma told you to stop drinking.”

Kuroo wasn’t stupid, or maybe he was, but he was getting better at predicting the topics that were being discussed in therapy and the way they were led into. They were clearly about to talk about how Kuroo views not drinking as a concept.

“Yeah, well he’s asking me to stop drinking four days a week,” Kuroo said, “That is being asked to stop drinking.”

“I think a different way to frame it would be that Kenma asked you to drink less rather than Kenma asked you to stop drinking. That makes more sense in my brain.”

“It’s the same thing, so why does it matter how I phrase it?” Kuroo asked.

Was there psychological relevance to the phrasing of drinking related demands? That seemed like a stretch. He was told to stop drinking for more than half of the time. Four days was four days.

“One just seems more extreme is all, so I was wondering why you were leaning towards the extreme one, especially since you agreed to it.”

“The so-called extreme one makes sense, because asking it is extreme,” Kuroo said.

It wasn’t extreme to accomplish but it was extreme to request.

“I can tell by how much you’re upset that this is clearly a big ask of you,” he said, “Do you think it’s going to be hard for you to achieve?”

Kuroo really didn’t think he was acting all that upset by it, but maybe his expression was lying to his therapist.

“No. Not at all,” Kuroo said, “It won’t be hard and it’s probably even good for my health, so it’s not an execution thing.”

Why did people keep asking him that? Being asked to only drink three days a week was easily achievable if he wanted to do that. It wouldn’t be a stretch. Being unable to condense drinking into three days a week should be more than feasible for anyone without a serious issue.

“I know this question is going to sound judgmental, but I promise it’s not. I’m just trying to understand. For you, it’s both totally possible and something you’re seeing as such a concerning ask. Why is it such a point of contention for you?”

“Because I don’t want Kenma controlling me, controlling what I do with my body.”

He’d already explained that to Kenma. Maybe he needed to drag his therapist with him to all future relationship discussions. He didn’t need him as an interlocutor, but it might save him having to explain things twice.

“I know that Kenma in the past has been controlling about social situations and money and things like that, but has he ever put other restrictions on things you do with your body?”

Kuroo was glad he asked. The answer would prove that he wasn’t just rebelling against authority without cause.

“Yeah. I can’t smoke and I can’t fuck other people,” Kuroo said, “And I’m cool with both of those things.”

“Why are those different than drinking?”

“Because I don’t already do those other things, so those rules aren’t interfering with anything,” Kuroo pointed out.

“What if Kenma told you that you aren’t allowed to wear green shirts anymore. Would you do that?”

He had to consider that one. He had no idea what answer his therapist was looking for.

Would he let Kenma make that decree?

“I’d probably be okay with it, I guess, especially if he had some actual reason for it,” Kuroo said, “It would be weird and I’d probably be concerned about it escalating or something, but as long as we discussed it and everything seemed fine, then probably.”

He only had a few green shirts anyway. Getting rid of them for a relationship would be so strange, but it would be more than worth it if they were causing Kenma strife. He might be stubborn, but he knew when to choose his battles.

“But you already wear green shirts, so why is the drinking rule such an issue then? What makes it different?”

“Because I like drinking. I don’t have a passion for wearing green shirts.”

He looked good in green. Maybe he should consider developing a passion for it. Kuroo had noticed that people who dedicate whole outfits to certain colors always seem to be having a good time.

“Well, you did buy them. Plus, you said that you’d be healthier if you limited your drinking, so it’s possibly even better to give up the drinking than to give up the shirts.”

Using an unfair comparison would get them nowhere. Clothing and drinking were entirely unrelated. Maybe therapy wasn’t as useful as he thought.

“Okay. They just aren’t the same thing,” Kuroo said, looking at the clock to see they were over time, “But it’s time to go now.”

The therapist looked at his watch and nodded.

“For the next time you come in, I want you to have thought about this. Think about why drinking is so important to you, why drinking is different for you from shirts or smoking or sex. I can see that you don’t like my analogy. Dig deep and come back prepared with an argument against it. Prove me wrong.”

Kuroo sighed and leaned back into his chair.

“I’m tired of having to think about things. It fucking sucks.”

Kuroo had let himself into Kenma’s house many times, so he was surprised that Kenma met him at the door. A tiny smile found its way onto his lips because Kenma was wearing his hoodie, and it looked adorable on him like it always did. He wasn’t that much larger than Kenma but it was enough that Kenma was swallowed within the fabric.

“Hey,” Kenma said, “How are you doing?”

In what respect Kenma was asking? There were a lot of possibilities and he wasn’t sure which one it actually was. However, it didn’t particularly matter. The answer to the different iterations of the question was identical regardless.

“I’m doing okay,” Kuroo said, “Better than yesterday for- are those my shorts?”

Kenma snorted and moved out of the doorway so Kuroo could enter.

“I’m not saying that they’re not your shorts and I’m not saying that I didn’t steal them from your home-“

“My apartment,” Kuroo corrected.

He slipped off his shoes and set his keys on the entryway shelf.

“I’m not saying I didn’t steal them from your apartment while you were unconscious and then intentionally didn’t include them in the text message I sent you telling you I stole your hoodie,” Kenma said, “I’m just saying that we don’t know for sure what happened, so we shouldn’t jump to conclusions.”

Kuroo leaned down to kiss Kenma’s forehead, but Kenma tilted up his chin, his eyes closed and his lips pursed. Kuroo, of course, gave him what he wanted. He cupped Kenma’s cheek with one hand and pressed his lips to Kenma’s. Kenma smiled against his lips before kissing him back.

”Changing and then heading off to the diner in like three minutes.”

Kuroo spun around his desk chair to look at him. Exhaustion clung to Kenma even as he changed from one work uniform to another. He was barely even through the threshold of the room.

“Alright, love,” Kuroo said, “I’ll run some laundry. Need anything that’s not in the bucket?”

Kenma paused.

“Yeah. This,” he said, grabbing the uniform he had just taken off and tossing it at the bucket, “Anything you need from me before I go?”

“Mhm.”

Kuroo pressed his lips forward.

“Coming in hot,” Kenma said with a grin.

He jogged the few steps over to Kuroo, plopped himself in his lap, and spent the next few minutes before he had to leave kissing him silly.

Kuroo had an idea and acted on it before he had the chance to consider if it was a good one. He gently reached down, grabbed at the fabric covering Kenma’s thigh, and yanked downward. There was essentially no resistance because the shorts were perhaps a size too large for him. They started to fall immediately, but Kenma’s reaction time was surprisingly good and he was able to pull them back up before they hit the ground.

“Your shorts seem a little big on you,” Kuroo said, placing a hand on Kenma’s shoulder, “Why is that?”

“If you wanted to see me pantsless, you could have just asked,” Kenma pointed out.

Kuroo moved his hand from Kenma’s shoulder to wrap it around his arm as they started wandering over to the game room.

“I think there’s been a mixup,” Kuroo said, “You are Kenma and I am Kuro, but you, Kenma, seem to be wearing my, Kuro’s, shorts. Perhaps there was an incident at the pants factory.”

“You want them back?” Kenma asked.

He actually seemed genuine in his request, which came as a surprise.

Packing a sweatshirt for their vacation wasn’t entirely necessary, but it would be nice to have for the ride there and back. Unfortunately, it seemed that Kuroo’s entire collection of sweaters was missing. He felt crazy for a moment before coming to the obvious conclusion that the herd had been culled by its natural predator.

“Kenma!”

Kuroo heard rustling from the other room so he waited until Kenma appeared at the door.

“What’s up?” Kenma asked.

He was wearing one of Kuroo’s sweatshirts. That was one of many accounted for.

“Where are my sweatshirts?” Kuroo asked, gesturing at his open dresser.

“Which one?” Kenma asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Kuroo laughed.

“Let’s start with all of them.”

Kenma’s lips curled into a smile.

“The orange one is in my locker at work. The dark blue one is in the back of the car. The blue one with the stripes is at my mom’s house. The red one is in my suitcase. The black one is on my body.”

Kuroo stared blankly at him.

“What about the one from volleyball camp? You literally have the same one, so I don’t know why you need it.”

“That one is in the laundry bucket,” Kenma explained, “Any others?”

“Can I have any of them?” Kuroo asked, “I’m not even particular about which one.”

Kenma thought for a moment.

“No, I don’t think so.”

Kuroo strode across the room.

“I’m going to take this one by force then,” he said, sliding his hands under the sweatshirt Kenma was wearing.

Kenma laughed and started fighting back against Kuroo’s hands.

“Nah,” Kuroo said, “One less thing to move.”

“Ah. I’m not saying that I took them from your apartment, but if I had done that, I allegedly would have done so to make it easier for you to move, a tactical decision of sorts.”

“That was allegedly very thoughtful of you,” Kuroo said, squeezing his arm.

Once they arrived at the game room, he freed Kenma’s arm and sat down the kotatsu. He continued to remind himself that the onus was on Kenma to communicate if he was upset. He would calmly let Kenma lead. He would certainly cringe multiple times discussing the events of the previous night, but a combination of his therapist’s pleading and Kenma’s casual demeanor was enough to dramatically lower his concern about the entire debacle.

“So, what do you want to do?” Kenma asked, walking up behind him and leaning down to fluff his hair, “I bought a 3D puzzle because it looked like something we would end up getting frustrated about and start throwing the pieces at each other. Want to do that?”

Kuroo leaned up into the touch.

“I actually wanted to talk about last night?” Kuroo said, “Unless you don’t want to.”

Kenma’s hand paused in his hair.

“I really don’t think there’s that much to talk about,” Kenma said, “We don’t have to go through the motions for every little thing that happens between us, but if it would make you feel better, we can.”

Kuroo pursed his lips in confusion. Even if Kenma was for some reason not mad, there was still plenty to talk about. Did Kenma have a concussion, perhaps?

“We definitely should,” Kuroo said.

“Okay,” Kenma said, moving his hand to Kuroo’s shoulder, “Do you want to play cards, then?”

Apparently having a discussion about their relationship and completing difficult 3D puzzles didn’t seem like tasks that mixed well in Kenma’s brain. Because Kuroo kept pretending the conversation was Kenma’s to lead, he didn’t really feel the need to hide behind cards. Well, conversationally anyway. He was still generally very embarrassed, so hiding from sight felt like a good plan, but he was doing his best to pretend he wasn’t feeling that way. It was his main goal of the day, honestly.

“I don’t actually need a buffer for this,” Kuroo said, “But I do kinda want to play cards.”

Kenma smiled and walked over to the non-video-game game cabinet to grab a deck as he spoke.

“Good. I love an opportunity to kick your ass.”

“What if I told you that I’ve been practicing?” Kuroo asked.

He should have come up with something funnier to say, but he was preoccupied. Kenma’s hair looked shiny and Kuroo’s fingers ached to braid it. He tried to remember how long it had been since the last time he’d done it, and wondered if he’d be able to do it again without looking it up.

“Then I’d accuse you of lying,” Kenma said, sitting down at the table.

It was fair. The game wasn’t exactly one that could be practiced without another player.

“I’ll deal,” Kenma said, “So you start.”

Kuroo could tell that Kenma wasn’t really sure what to make of their conversation based on the way he said it, which was still astounding to him. Wasn’t Kenma embarrassed on Kuroo’s behalf? If he was, Kuroo couldn’t tell based on the way he was casually shuffling the deck. It would be hard for Kenma to lead the conversation if he didn’t think anything noteworthy had occurred.

“I wanted to start by saying I’m sorry,” Kuroo said, “Last night, I was thinking about something you said and I, one hundred percent, told you that I’d move in with you right away.”

Kenma looked surprised, which made sense being that Kuroo ignored the elephant that was so large respective to the size of the room that the structural integrity of Kenma’s house was at risk.

“Oh,” Kenma said, “Well-“

“And I just need you to know that I had completely forgotten about that conversation. I promise I wasn’t trying to backpedal or trick you or anything like that. I really just forgot about it.”

It wasn’t the most pressing thing on the docket, but that’s why he brought it up first. He didn’t want to let it get lost among the much larger nexus of issues they were about to discuss.

“I didn’t think you were,” Kenma said with a gentle laugh, “I promise that I assumed you forgot. But thank you. I appreciate you bringing it up.”

Kenma started to deal the cards. It was somewhat mesmerizing to watch his adept hands repeat the motions so quickly and accurately. Everything those hands did was wonderful, from the tap of a volleyball, to the dealing of cards, to the way they danced on Kuroo’s skin.

“Yeah, of course,” Kuroo said, his eyes moving from Kenma’s hands to look at him, “It was my bad.”

He watched the amusement double on Kenma’s face.

“I don’t suppose you want to move in early as a consolation?”

Kuroo’s immediate response was a no, but he made himself take a moment to more deeply consider it. Unfortunately, his response was still a no.

“Sorry,” Kuroo said, “I know that it’s frustrating and irrational, but it’s what I need right now.”

“I never once said it was irrational,” Kenma corrected, flashing an adorable smile at him as he started sorting his cards.

Kuroo laughed. It was frustrating. He understood.

“I’m still thinking Friday or Saturday, though. It’s so soon at this point.”

He was hoping that made it easier. It was only three to four nights away. Kenma playfully kicked him. More accurately, he nudged his leg gently with his foot.

“Honestly, damn you for finally standing up to me for pushing things forward too fast. It took you long enough,” Kenma said, “I’m proud of you for managing me.”

It was unclear if it was more of a compliment or a complaint, but an undercurrent of pride flowed through Kuroo regardless. Those words meant everything to him coming from Kenma. Kenma was proud of him. For a second, his chest felt a little tight, and perhaps his face even felt a little hot.

“Oh, I- um-” Kuroo started.

Kenma grinned a sinister looking grin, and Kuroo had no idea what he did to inspire it.

“I forgot about that,” Kenma said, leafing through his cards.

Kuroo blinked at him.

“Forgot about what?”

“That you have that mode,” Kenma said with a shrug, “I’ll keep it in mind in the future.”

Kenma tossed a card onto the discard pile to start the game. Technically, since Kenma dealt, it was Kuroo’s turn to go first, but it didn’t really matter.

“Man, that was crazy!” Kuroo said.

“It was insane to be on the court for it,” Bokuto said, “Like a true moment in volleyball history.”

His face was red and his voice was too loud courtesy of the large amount of alcohol they’d all taken in.

“I guarantee when I walk back into work the social media team will be prepping an edit of it. They-“

He looked down when he felt a card being ripped out of his hand. Kenma looked at the card and then played it on the board.

“You’re next,” Kenma said, nodding to Akaashi.

“Hey,” Kuroo said, pushing Kenma’s shoulder, “You can’t just play my cards for me.”

“But I’m better and much, much faster,” Kenma pointed out, “I should probably play more of your cards actually.”

“What? What mode?” Kuroo asked.

He stared at his cards but wasn’t actually considering them. He was trying to figure out what Kenma was talking about.

“It’s not important right now,” Kenma said, setting a hand on his wrist, “Was there more you wanted to talk about or was that it?”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes at the cards, again not really thinking about them. Did he want to chase down whatever Kenma was implying or did he want to move on to the actual conversation?

“So, about yesterday,” Kuroo said, “I’m really sorry to have done that to you. This was hard because you said you trusted me and then two hours later I kinda ruined that.”

Kenma had said he’d remember the other thing he was talking about for the future, so it seemed like Kuroo would have a chance to bring it up then. It was time for the main attraction.

“What?” Kenma asked, genuine confusion written on his face.

“On the phone when I called you. You told me that you trusted me enough that you could make bad decisions with me, and that meant a lot to me.”

“I absolutely still do,” Kenma said, “Last night changed exactly nothing about anything.”

Kuroo discarded a card from his hand as he tried to understand what he was hearing. Kenma’s horniness was clouding his judgment again.

”Stop taking your clothes off,” Kuroo said, guilt weighing heavy on him.

“Why?” Kenma asked, sliding his pants off.

“Because I’m sorry,” Kuroo said, “You deserve better than that.”

He’d spent so much time carefully considering what to buy for Kenma and taking things in and out of his online cart that he forgot to actually pull the trigger and order something. Unfortunately, he realized that tragic fact on Valentine’s Day when it was too late. As it was their first Valentine’s Day since they’d gotten together, it was a massive screw up.

“Don’t care,” Kenma said, “Come here. I wanna make you, I wanna, you know, I wanna suck your- you know what I want.“

“Kenma. I messed this up,” Kuroo said, crossing his arms.

“And now I want you to mess up my face, so, uh, you know, so bring me that dick. Please.”

“But last night was a fucking mess,” Kuroo pointed out.

“Yeah, you were a total mess, but it’s not that serious,” Kenma said, picking up a card and immediately discarding it, “Don’t worry about it.”

So much for the assumption that Kenma would take control of the conversation.

“It was very serious, and like incredibly embarrassing,” Kuroo said, hoping the acknowledgment that it was embarrassing would make him feel less embarrassed.

Based on the fact that his entire body was trying to cringe at once, he ruled it unsuccessful.

“I disagree,” Kenma said.

Unbelievable. Kenma was either being crazy or dishonest, but Kuroo wasn’t sure which one it was. He picked up a card and added it to his hand, selecting one at random to discard.

“Why are you acting like this wasn’t a big deal?” Kuroo asked.

“I’m not acting and it isn’t a big deal,” Kenma said with a shrug, “If this becomes a weekly date night for us, then it would be a problem, but if once in a blue moon you accidentally get too drunk and get all up in your feelings, that’s fine.”

It was supposed to be Kenma’s conversation, but he didn’t seem to be leading it, so Kuroo had to prompt him.

“So you weren’t hurt or upset or mad at me, like at all?” Kuroo asked.

“I mean I was kinda upset at first, but I got over it quickly,” Kenma said, pausing, “I was excited that you wanted to bang, but then I realized we weren’t going to bang, which was totally okay, obviously. Honestly, my bad for even thinking that’s what you wanted, and then I was really excited to have you spend the night, but-“

“Right so you were excited, then I ruined it by being really sloppy, which was shitty,” Kuroo said, anticipating Kenma’s retrospective pain.

Kenma played one card and discarded another.

“Not quite. I didn’t actually care much at all about the whole situation, except for the fact that you were so drunk you couldn’t think properly. It meant-“

“I know you said I can drink however much I want, but-“ Kuroo started.

There it was. It took a while, but Kenma finally admitted it. There was a problem, a problem with Kuroo’s drinking. Why hadn’t he just led with that? Was he afraid to go back on telling Kuroo that it didn’t matter how much he drank? Was he afraid Kuroo couldn’t take it?

“It’s not that either, actually, if you’d let me finish. You getting drunk doesn’t bother me that much as long as it’s not the norm when you drink. It’s just that you’ve been telling me you can’t move in with me because you need time alone- well, time away from me- to think. Then instead of using that time to think, you get trashed instead. You clearly couldn’t think yesterday. And now today, instead of you thinking, we’re having this conversation, so that’s now two days you could have lived here with me, but you aren’t, because you’re supposed to be thinking, but you’re not actually thinking. Which, to be clear, isn’t the end of the world, but it’s bristling me a bit.”

Kuroo pursed his lips. He hadn’t anticipated that point. There were many things he’d assumed Kenma would have said to him, but that wasn’t one of them. He wasn’t quite sure how to respond. Apparently there was a reason Kenma was supposed to be the one leading the conversation.

“It wasn’t intentional,” Kuroo said, “Not being able to think yesterday, but also now the fallout today. I wasn’t trying to not use the time to think.”

“Yeah, no, I know it wasn’t intentional, so I let it go. Once I got past that, it wasn’t a big deal at all, and that’s why I don’t think it’s a big deal. That’s why I know it’s not a big deal.”

That was Kenma’s problem? Kuroo wasn’t using his alone time effectively? Not any of the other things that occurred?

“You didn’t care that you had to deal with me drunk, sobbing, and pathetic?” Kuroo asked, “Because I was really rough.”

Somehow saying that didn’t increase his embarrassment. In fact, it lessened slightly for the first time since the incident in question.

“So, I personally have made worse decisions while drinking and I think that most people who drink get too drunk and get in their feelings at least once in their lives,” Kenma said, “It happens.”

“Onward, to glory!” Kenma shouted from his perch on Kuroo’s shoulders.

He grabbed Kuroo’s hair in both hands and pushed it forward.

“I’m no ratatouille, bitch,” Kuroo said, shaking his head in an attempt to dislodge Kenma’s hands.

He was not having the easiest time balancing Kenma. Beyond his level of intoxication, the fact that Kenma wasn’t exactly light and his insistence on wiggling around made it rather impressive that they’d made it a whole block down the street.

“Oh yeah.”

Those two words were the only warning Kuroo had that something was about to occur. He wasn’t sure what or why, but he knew some event was impending. He first felt the hands leave his hair, and then he felt Kenma somehow pull back hard. His goal was nothing more than getting Kenma to the ground safely in one piece, but he felt all contact disappear with a jolt. He turned quickly, off balance, to see that Kenma had grabbed onto an empty sign pole above them and was shakily attempting a pull-up.

“Kenma, no!” Kuroo shouted.

He knew Kenma had no shot at completing a pull-up, drunk or otherwise.

“Let’s fucking-“

Kuroo had already started moving in Kenma’s direction, but it felt like he was moving in slow motion and Kenma was sped up as his hands slipped and he started falling towards the ground. His goal was to grab Kenma before he hit the ground, but it ended up being closer to a shove. They both hit the ground hard.

“Kenma. Kenma, are you okay?” Kuroo asked, scrambling to get off him.

“Haha, fuck,” Kenma said, looking up at him, “My elbows.”

He held his elbows up to Kuroo and even in the somewhat dark street lighting, he could see that they were bleeding. Kuroo grabbed onto one of them to take a better look. He wasn’t a doctor so he was able to identify that there was a wound and it was in fact bleeding, but nothing more about it. Kuroo’s hands grabbed at his pockets even though he knew there was nothing he could use to fix the problem. His heart hurt. He couldn’t help clean Kenma up. That was his job as Kenma’s protector.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo said, “I’m so sorry. Let’s get somewhere so we can clean you up.”

Kenma laughed.

“Sorry for what? I’m the one who abandoned ship.”

Kuroo grabbed his hand to help him get back to his feet.

“I know, but I didn’t catch you, and now your elbows are all scratched up.”

“No worries, babe,” Kenma said, grabbing Kuroo’s wrist, “My elbows are fine. They don’t hurt nearly as bad as my head do.”

“You hit your head?” Kuroo asked, his eyes widening.

“You weren’t put off by the things I said and by the way I was acting?” Kuroo asked.

It was honestly a red flag; Kenma should have been concerned by it. Anyone in their right mind would have been concerned by it.

“Well, did you mean the things you said? And I don’t mean that you meant them in the moment. I mean that right now, sober, you fully believe that you don’t deserve to be loved by me and that you’re not good enough for me?”

It seemed a little over dramatic when Kenma said it like that. The truth, as it always was, happened to be much less flashy than that.

“It's like an eighth of that,” Kuroo answered honestly, “I think that you’re better than me and could do better than me, but I also don’t think you shouldn’t love me or that we shouldn’t be together.”

“Right, and we’ve talked about that before. You feel that way sometimes, but you’re getting better about it,” Kenma said, “At least that’s where I remember us leaving off with that, so it’s a work in progress. All good.”

Kuroo looked at his cards and played one.

“Well, yeah,” Kuroo said, “Exactly. So doesn’t it bother you that not only did I get super trashed, you had to spend the night consoling me about something you’ve already had to console me about? I just don’t get it. It’s hard for me to believe that this is all just fine.”

Kenma set his cards face down on the table.

“It’s really simple,” Kenma said, his eyes meeting Kuroo’s, “You were hurting, and I wanted that to stop. That was my first and only priority. That’s all there is to it.”

“So, you were just trying to make me feel better then?” Kuroo asked.

“My goal was to make you feel better, but it wasn’t like I was lying or anything to do that. I meant what I said. I was more concerned about how bad you were hurting than I was bothered by anything else.”

Kuroo set his own cards down and pressed the heels of his hands into his thighs. How did he go from being Kenma’s protector to being the one in need of babysitting?

“You shouldn’t have to have that concern is what I’m saying. I shouldn’t keep dragging you down here with me. My mess shouldn’t be your burden.”

Kenma reached over to grab his hands.

“I don’t mind reassuring you,” Kenma said, shaking his head, “It’s also not even really reassurance at this point. It’s just me saying the objective truth out loud. I love you a lot. You’re such a joy in my life. I’m so impressed by how much you’ve changed and how much you’re-“

“This is exactly what I mean,” Kuroo interrupted, “You’re having to do it again. Twice in two days. I don’t want it to be so hard to love me, so I’m trying and failing to do some of the legwork.”

Kenma brought one of Kuroo’s hands to his lips and placed a kiss on it.

“Don’t get me wrong, our relationship is a lot of work, which is totally fine,” Kenma said, “But loving you? That’s effortless.”

Kuroo swallowed.

“I know, but-“

“It’s not even second nature to me. It’s first nature. Just nature. I’ve spent so many more years loving you than not loving you, so just let me love you. Let me do what I know how to do best.”

Kuroo stared down at the table.

“And I want to show you that I’m worthy of that.”

He ached. Tears wanted to fall, but he couldn’t even form them.

“My love isn’t something that you need to earn, and neither is a little bit of grace. We all need that. I don’t want things like this to weigh so heavily on you- especially when they’re so inconsequential,” Kenma said, “I think if you can learn to allow yourself some wiggle room, that you’ll be happier and feel like you’re doing better. I’ll tell you if anything is a problem, so you don’t have to worry about what does and doesn’t qualify, but can you try that for me? Please?”

Kuroo wasn’t exactly sure what he was agreeing to, but he would do his best. It was just another thing that he needed to spend time thinking about, but he would do it.

“Okay,” Kuroo said, “I’ll try.”

“Good,” Kenma said, smiling as he brushed a piece of hair out of Kuroo’s face, “I just wish it was as easy for you to love yourself as it is for me to love you.”

At no point was there a plan to nap at the kotatsu, but sometimes things just happened. At one point during their game, Kuroo had thought it would be funny to jam himself into Kenma’s side of the table to annoy him by invading his personal space and very clearly looking at his cards, and then somehow that turned into them getting really into each other’s personal space, and then lastly that turned into them being conked out on the floor, Kenma laying half on Kuroo.

Kuroo slowly felt around for his phone and looked at the time. It was far later than he was hoping. He squeezed his arm around Kenma and kissed the top of his head.

“Mmm,” Kenma hummed, moving just enough to look up at Kuroo.

“I gotta go soon.”

“You can stay the night, you know?” Kenma said, yawning through his words, “We can have a much better sleep together night.”

It was incredibly tempting.

“I don’t know.”

On one hand, it was his duty to use the time to think. He already didn’t think on Sunday. Or Monday. And Tuesday was off to a very not thinking start. On the other hand, Kenma.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Kenma said, “And I don’t know what that means to you right now, but I’ll make it happen regardless.”

“Can I be honest?” Kuroo asked.

Kenma laughed.

“God, I sure hope so, but waiting until now to start is crazy considering the conversation we had earlier.”

“Shut up,” Kuroo said, squeezing his arm around him, “I was going to say that I shouldn’t stay and you just told me you were proud of me for standing up to you, but also I know you want me to stay so I feel bad leaving.”

Kenma laughed quietly.

“You can leave, but there’s one condition.”

“You want a kiss before I go?”

“There are two conditions,” Kenma amended.

“Okay,” Kuroo said, “And they are?”

He had no idea what Kenma was about to say to him, but in that moment he didn’t care. Kenma could ask him to commit aggravated arson and he probably would do it. Not because he wanted that badly to leave, just because Kenma was the one who asked him to do it.

“Your presence has been requested at therapy on Friday.”

“Sure, I can flex around it,” Kuroo said, “Is there some reason in particular?”

Kenma gently rubbed a hand across Kuroo’s chest, smoothing out the places where his shirt was bunched up.

“I don’t know. She won’t tell me.”

“Great. That feels like it’s going to be a cool and normal conversation that I’m not concerned about at all,” Kuroo said.

He might prefer the aggravated arson.

“Condition number two is kissing me by the way,” Kenma said.

“Yeah, I gathered that.”

Kuroo did his best to carefully but quickly flip them so Kenma was lying on his back and Kuroo was balanced with one leg on either side of him, propped up on his elbows. He was pretty proud that he only managed to bump the kotatsu once in the process. He leaned forward and kissed Kenma on the cheek before dislodging himself and standing up.

“Alright. I’m heading out now.”

Kenma’s jaw dropped. He stared up at Kuroo from where he was still lying on the floor.

“That’s not fair.”

Kuroo couldn’t help but laugh at the indignation on his face.

“You said you wanted me to kiss you,” Kuroo said with a shrug, “You didn’t say where.”

“I can’t believe this,” Kenma said, sitting up.

Without warning, Kenma lunged in Kuroo’s direction, grabbing at his shins. It was enough to unbalance Kuroo, but he was able to fall in a controlled manner, so he plopped himself down next to Kenma.

“Fine,” he said, using his hand to tilt Kenma’s chin enough to kiss him for real.

Chapter Text

Just as he finished thinking through Kenma’s proposition about marriage, the treadmill screen informed him he was about to finish his run. He took stock of the state of his muscles before adding another mile to his workout. He had the time. He turned his music up and then opened his browser.

He searched ‘wedding inspo’ and clicked around a few different photos before quickly amending his search to ‘wedding inspo gay.’ He scrolled a bit through the images tab and different social media sites, encouraging himself to get excited in a detached sort of way. There were many cute ideas, some of which he would even consider incorporating into his own hypothetical wedding one day. It would be fun to have a wedding, to be surrounded by friends and family, and to celebrate his love.

He smiled the slightest bit as he locked his phone. He wondered what the trends would be when they were planning their wedding at some nebulous point in the future. Would Kenma want a classic wedding? A trendy wedding? Would they be reasonable or would they go for extravagance? They certainly would be able to afford extravagance if that was the direction they wanted to go. Kuroo didn’t actually know what Kenma wanted. He’d always made himself clear about wanting a wedding, but they never got much further than that.

Though he was trying to habituate himself to the idea in a detached manner. He reopened his browser and saved one of the pictures that he wanted to remember for when the time came. It felt too perfect not to keep.

His first real round of thinking through things went incredibly well. As a matter of fact, not only did he come to complete acceptance of their plan, he was even a little excited about it. Unfortunately, it was probably the easiest thing on his list to think about. He sorted his thinking topics by importance and timeliness. He was running out of time before he had to- got to- move in with Kenma, so he had to think through the terms first. Then he could think through the other things that had since been added to his list. It probably also made sense to think through his terms with the difficult ones first in case he didn’t finish his thinking. Then again, thinking about the difficult ones would be hard and no fun, and therefore, he wanted to put them off.

He rolled his eyes when he realized he was thinking about thinking. He needed a new hobby.

He’d read many times that taking cold showers after his workouts would be good for him, but he was never able to pull the trigger. It sounded so uncomfortable, and he always enjoyed his hot shower before work to help him relax and prepare for his day. He jacked the heat up as hot as he could handle. The hot water felt good against his skin, soothing his muscles, but it wasn’t even close to as hot as Kenma liked it. It made showering together a logistical nightmare over and above the preexisting height problem.

He scrubbed shampoo into his hair as he pondered the next term on his list: how best to show Kenma he loves him. The first solution was the most obvious,

and

“I love you,” Kenma said as he folded green onions into the filling.

it

“I love you,” Kenma’s voice came clearly through his headphones.

seemed

”I love you,” Kenma said, popping his head into the bathroom where Kuroo was putting gel in his hair.

to

”I love you,” Kenma said, looking out their hotel window at the beautiful city skyline.

come

”I love you,” Kenma whispered, pulling the blanket higher around them.

so

”I love you,” Kenma choked out, tears still wet on his face from their dumb argument.

naturally

”I love you,” Kenma said as he was being wheeled out of the room to get a head scan.

to

”I love you,” Kenma gargled around the thing that was very patiently poking the back of his throat.

Kenma.

”I love you,” Kenma said, even though he’d just spent the last two hours getting destroyed in an intramural volleyball tournament that Kuroo made him join against his will.

It wasn’t that Kuroo didn’t love Kenma in those moments. He most certainly loved Kenma during all of them, but it never crossed his mind to say it out loud. The dialogue option wasn’t ignored; It never popped up in the first place. He wondered if it was something he could train himself to think to say. He didn’t need prompting to actually say it, just prompting to think that he could say it. That would help pad the weak spot in the armor.

It would be a start, but he could also do better. After all, the request was that Kuroo shows Kenma he loves him, not tells Kenma he loves him.

His hands wanted to grab his phone to look it up, but that felt pathetic. They’d known each other for so long. He should have the ability to figure it out on his own. He decided on a two prong approach: determine the things that Kenma did to show his love, and determine the things that Kenma loved that Kuroo personally cared less for. He washed the shampoo out of his hair, replacing it with conditioner. It made sense that Kenma would for the most part appreciate acts of love that he himself displayed. Clearly he associated them with love or he wouldn’t do them.

Before even opening his eyes, he was made fully aware of the way his sinuses were throbbing. He hadn’t meant to dose off, but the combination of the cold medicine and the cold itself was doing a number on him. He glanced at the time and swore. Despite trying not to fall asleep again, he’d just slept through two hours of work. He had no real chance of successfully making it through the rest of his shift without issue. He was going to have to call out. The fact pulled at him, twisting guilt starting at his chest and radiating outward. He was out of paid time off. Kenma was working at least four different jobs to make ends meet and Kuroo was unable to do his singular one well enough to collect a paycheck. Not being able to provide well for them already weighed heavily on his conscience. Being unable to make it through his work from home day was only making it worse.

He gingerly stretched out his arm before realizing his work laptop wasn’t on his desk, which was rather concerning. He’d been using it before he fell asleep, so it should have been right there. He checked the floor to see if he’d dropped it. He checked inside the pull out drawer to see if he’d stowed it. He checked below all of the papers strewn around the desk. It was nowhere to be found. Had he merely imagined clocking in and working for a bit? He stood up and wobbled, nausea overtaking him.

“Go back to sleep,” Kenma called from somewhere in their apartment.

“What?”

Kuroo meant to shout back but it stuttered out into a mumble as another wave of nausea rocked him. He stood for a moment, desperately trying not to throw up. By the time he decided he was ready to start walking again, Kenma appeared in front of him, holding the missing work laptop.

“Sleep,” Kenma said, grabbing his elbow to lead him out of the office.

Kenma was going to force him to voice his inadequacy out loud- how accidentally cruel of him.

“No,” Kuroo said, tears welling in his eyes, “I have to clock out.”

He wasn’t sure why he was letting Kenma steer him. Kenma shouldn’t have even been awake. What was he doing? Kuroo tried his best to breathe as little as possible. Neither of them were wearing a mask and he didn’t want Kenma to get sick. Kuroo getting sick was bad enough. Kenma getting sick would be much harder for them to recover from.

“Nope. No clocking out. Only sleep. You need your rest.”

Kuroo shook his head which only served to reassert the pressure in his sinuses.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroo said, “I can’t keep working. I can’t.”

“Good. You need your rest. Lay down now.”

Kuroo was standing mere inches from the bed, but he couldn’t make himself get in it.

“I can’t. I have to clock out. I don’t want to get fired.”

Clocking out was bad. Losing his job entirely was worse. Kenma sighed and held Kuroo’s open laptop up to him. The youth database was open and there were new entries made within the last two hours. Kuroo tilted his head to the side, confused. He was the only one managing the database, and his coworkers didn’t know he was out sick.

“See,” Kenma said, “You’re not going to get fired, and you don’t have to clock out. I watched you work on this last week, and it’s super easy, so I’ve got you covered.”

That was notably not allowed. There was nothing particularly dangerous or unethical about Kenma doing the work- he was just keeping official track of and logging high school volleyball scores and statistics into the JVA’s database, but it was Kuroo’s job, not Kenma’s.

“Kenma. You can’t.”

“I can,” Kenma said, “See? I’m doing a good job, right?”

Kuroo stared at the screen, looking over the log entries. They seemed well done, though it wasn’t possible for Kuroo to actually know without looking at the raw submitted stats to compare them.

“This is my job,” Kuroo said.

Embarrassment swelled within him, somehow drowning out the nausea.

“And I’m doing it for you so you can sleep and not feel guilty about not getting paid for it,” Kenma said, “Now sleep.”

He ran a hand through Kuroo’s sweaty hair. Kuroo didn’t realize until that moment that he was sweating. He was absolutely freezing. Did he have a fever?

“Kenma,” Kuroo said, staring down at his feet, “I have to-“

“Fine. Don’t sleep,” Kenma said, “But maybe take a shower to help with your congestion?”

Kuroo’s heart sank as he was finally able to orient himself to what day it was and why it was odd that Kenma was awake.

“This is your only day off for the entire month of July,” Kuroo said, each word struggling to pass his lips, “You should not be doing my job.”

“Isn’t it a perfect coincidence? I’m home so I can take over your work and watch a movie while I’m at it. I can chill and hold down the fort for you. I’ll even wake you up if anyone messages you. I’ll sit right next to you in case I need help. Everyone wins.”

Tears leaked out from Kuroo’s eyes and dripped down his face. He wasn’t quite sure what to say. He knew he couldn’t refuse. Kenma’s plan was the only good option, but it was a disappointment for Kenma to have to do it.

“Thank you,” Kuroo said, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Kenma said, reaching up to wipe his tears, “And I’m so glad you got this job to provide for us.”

Showing love was sacrificing desperately needed free time. Showing love was taking the initiative to lift a burden. Showing love was anticipating a specific concern and assuaging it.

Kuroo didn’t really want another beer, but he did want to not be looking at his father, so he headed over to the fridge. Unfortunately, that didn’t stop the drunken rambling.

“The problem is, if you’re going to be gay, you need a real man. Really you need someone to have enough masculinity to balance you out,” his father said to Kenma, “I’ve known you since you were little. I know what you need.”

“I’m standing right here,” Kuroo said, using the corner of the counter to pop off the bottle cap.

A whole mix of useless emotions clawed at Kuroo. He’d told Kenma that his father would be on his best behavior. He hated being wrong, but not nearly as much as he hated not being good enough. Perhaps his father was right. Perhaps he wasn’t good enough for Kenma.

“And I’m not talking to you,” his father hissed, “So zip it.”

Kuroo didn’t need to be told twice. Children were to be seen and not heard. He slinked back down into his seat at the table.

“First of all,” Kenma said, staring his future father in law down, “I’m man enough on my own, whatever that even means. Second of all, your son is an excellent boyfriend. Third of all, your son is twice the man you’ll ever be.”

“Kenma,“ Kuroo warned.

He didn’t think his father was capable of treating Kenma the way he treated Kuroo, but he didn’t want to find out. He stood up and set his hand on Kenma’s shoulder, but Kenma brushed him off.

“If you think he’s a man, there’s no wonder you’re gay,” Kuroo’s father said, gesturing at his son.

Kenma laughed, audibly, out loud, with volume, directly into his face. He grabbed Kuroo’s dad’s beer and waved it at him.

“Yeah, because you’re oh so manly. Quaking in my boots at your big ol’ bald spot. Didn’t your sugar baby fix your bathroom sink the other day? I thought real men should-“

Kuroo was dumbfounded. Who was this man talking to his father? Kuroo certainly didn’t know him. Kenma sat the beer bottle away from the man, and then pressed his palms into the table.

“Kenma-“ Kuroo started again.

“It’s embarrassing,” Kenma continued, “You could be taking credit for how well your son turned out even though you did nothing to raise him. He’s wicked smart, you know? His grades are better than mine. He’s a multi-sport intramural MVP and captain. He’s already worked multiple internships to make connections. He’s a son anyone would be proud of, even though you didn’t do anything to cause that, but you’re too dumb to realize you should be scrambling to take credit. If anything-“

Kuroo looked down to notice that Kenma’s hands were shaking against the table.

“That’s enough,” Kuroo said, grabbing Kenma by the bicep and yanking him from the chair, “Dad, we’re leaving.”

Kenma looked like he wanted to add something but he stayed silent as he grabbed all of the bottles from the table as Kuroo pulled him away.

“Probably for the best,” his dad said, “You’ve both overstayed your welcome in my house.”

Kenma laughed again as he tossed the mostly full beers into the trash.

“What welcome?”

Kuroo was thankful that his father was unbelievably drunk, even by his own standards. Otherwise, the fight surely would have continued. Even as they walked outside and into Kenma’s parents’ house, Kuroo was shocked that he didn’t follow them to have the last word.

“You don’t need to defend me,” Kuroo said, “If you ignore him, he stops.”

Kenma paused.

“But you said that he doesn’t hold the things I say against you,” Kenma said, “So I don’t see the problem.”

He kicked his shoes off and laced his fingers into Kuroo’s.

“He doesn’t, but it’s not worth the effort.”

“But you are,” Kenma said, squeezing his hand, “And I’m not afraid of him. You deserve to have someone stand up for you.”

Kuroo narrowed his eyes.

“But you were afraid of him. I saw the way your-“

“My boys home?” Kenma’s mom called, coming around the corner.

Kenma released Kuroo’s hand.

“Mom, Kuro just got this awesome internship with one of the V2 teams in the area,” Kenma said, “It was crazy competitive, but he got it.”

“That’s amazing,” she said, leaning in to hug Kuroo, “Have you celebrated yet? Let’s celebrate. We should go get dessert. Or drinks now that you’re both old enough. Where do you want to go? Drinks? Dessert? Both?”

Showing love was being a defender. Showing love was swallowing fear. Showing love was keeping a careful eye on consequences. Showing love was finding allies.

He ran his hands through his hair, washing out the conditioner. He wondered if he should bother moving his shower stuff to Kenma’s or if it wasn’t worth it. He figured that mimicking Kenma’s affection was a good start, but that would only get him so far. He’d have to come up with things that Kenma wouldn’t think to do for him. What were things Kenma would need that he wouldn’t think Kuroo needed?

He wondered if the answer came from the ways they were different. They’d extensively discussed the fact that Kuroo was always trying to maintain a comfortable distance, but Kenma’s comfortable distance was much closer.

”How’d it go?”

Kuroo turned his phone volume down as he walked down the block.

“Good. I think I answered their questions well, and I thought the walkthrough was good. It seems like everyone at the JVA is happy to work there,” Kuroo said, “I hope I get the job.”

He hoped the salary offer would be high. They could really use the financial boost. They could only afford one of them chasing their dreams, but maybe if the JVA made a good offer, they could live comfortably.

“I’m so glad. I’m sure you did great,” Kenma said, “Do you know what you’re getting for dinner?”

“Nah,” Kuroo said, “I was too stressed about the interview to think about it. I’ll probably grab something quick somewhere and then come home.”

“I figured as much,” Kenma said, “So I got you reservations at this place a few blocks from the JVA headquarters. It’s for like twenty minutes from now and apparently everything on their menu is to die for. The top review calls everything they tried ‘scrumdiddlyumptious’.”

Kuroo’s bottom lip stuck out a bit. He’d already felt bad enough telling Kenma that he didn’t want him hanging around because it would stress him for the interview. Kenma begrudgingly agreed to stay home instead of venturing into that part of town with him. Going to a nice dinner without him seemed so much worse.

“Kenma, that’s so-“

“I gave them my card information, so get whatever you want. Stay and eat and get all of that interview stress out of your system.”

The idea of sitting down somewhere and having food brought to him as he returned his nervous system to its normal state seemed divine.

“This is so sweet of you. Thank you.”

“Of course!”

Kenma sounded so genuine and it took Kuroo a bit aback. If the roles were reversed, he wouldn’t have even considered doing that for Kenma.

“I know you wanted to come, so it probably was kind of a bummer to make the reservations for one, but we can go together next time, once I get the job. Okay?”

It was something else that Kenma seemingly had all figured out, ignoring his own version of affection and matching it to Kuroo’s version. Kenma figured out how to show love from a distance for Kuroo’s sake. Kuroo would need to learn to do the opposite.

Kenma moved quickly, setting his drink down and sliding over in the booth just enough to lean in and kiss Kuroo somewhat deeply, far too deeply for a public place. Kuroo downright swooned.

“What was that?” Kuroo asked with a smile.

“A kiss,” Kenma mumbled, blushing, “What else would it be?”

He ducked his head as he said it.

“You hate PDA,” Kuroo pointed out.

Even if that wasn’t a well established fact, Kenma appeared to be considering how best to crawl out of his skin because they had the audacity to touch in a public place.

“Your ex is like four tables to the right and one back,” Kenma explained, “I remember a while ago you told me that he’d be so jealous to find out we were together, and that you’d relish the annoyance on his face.”

“What?”

He wasn’t really looking for clarification. He was mostly just surprised that Kenma both remembered that and decided to do something about it. It wasn’t all that serious.

“I know you can’t actually see his face, but I was hoping the idea of it would be worth it for you.”

Kuroo no longer was concerned with his ex or any jealousy he may or may not have, because he didn’t need to. His thoughts were fully preoccupied with Kenma. There was no room in them for slimy bastards.

“Kenma,” Kuroo said, tilting his head to the side, “Kissing you is always worth it to me.”

Kuroo would have to find ways to show his love in public that didn’t set off Kenma’s discomfort with public displays of affection. He had no idea how to do that. He swallowed. There had to be other differences between them that he could use, but none came to his mind. Why didn’t he have the part in his brain that told him how to love? Where does it come from? Where did Kenma get it?

There were the obvious things, the things that everyone knew- keeping track of things like favorite snacks and flowers and games and restaurants and then planning surprise nights using them. He rinsed the soap from his skin. But love was more than dates and gifts. It was deeper than that, and he had once had it, but he’d long since forgotten any of the things he’d done to achieve it.

”I can’t believe that you’re a good boyfriend,” Akaashi said.

Kuroo sat down with his freshly filled glass of water and stared blankly at Akaashi.

“Hey,” he said, a bit offended, “I do my best. I think Kenma is happy with me.”

Akaashi waved him off.

“No. I know,” Akaashi said, “I was saying that I was surprised that you are, not that you aren’t one.”

Kuroo looked over to see that Kenma and Bokuto were still highly engrossed in their game.

“I’ve changed a lot since I was in high school,” Kuroo pointed out, realizing that Akaashi had mostly seen him as a boyfriend in his high school situatuonships, “It’s possible that now I’m an adult, I know how to be a good partner.”

Kuroo surreptitiously switched his own glass of water with Kenma’s. Kenma conceded that he would drink one whole glass of water, so if he noticed Kuroo kept swapping out that glass with a slightly fuller glass, he’d probably stop drinking it entirely. Kuroo had to be careful.

“Right,” Akaashi said, “That’s exactly what I’m saying. You’ve changed a lot. You’re good at this. That’s all.”

Kuroo wished he would have asked Akaashi what exactly brought that conversation about. In retrospect, it would have helped him out in a hyper-specific and notably weird situation years later, but it didn’t seem of consequence at the time.

It was odd having a sappy conversation with Akaashi and he wanted it to stop.

“Sure dude, whatever you say,” Kuroo said, shooting him a look, “You jealous?”

As he shut the water off, he realized that he felt really good. He didn’t make a list of specific actions to take, but he had a good starting point of things to look out for. He’d keep doing the things he’d already been doing, but he’d keep his eye out for things he might have never considered doing before. He had the opportunity to be creative in his quest to make Kenma feel loved. The opportunities were endless and it was an honor to be leading the charge.

He was almost somewhat excited about that too.

“I have a delivery for Kozume Kenma,” Kuroo said, walking over to the secretary’s desk, “His office is on the tenth floor. Can you swipe me up?”

Kenma had showed him around the Bouncing Ball office once or twice after hours. It had a pretty simple layout, so he could easily navigate it. The only problem was the key access elevators.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

“You can leave it here and I’ll bring it up to him,” she said, “Thank you.”

Kuroo paused. His lunch was also in there, so he had to figure out the logistics of only having one bag to both get Kenma’s food to him and take his own food back. Plus, he mostly just wanted to give Kenma a kiss. He knew Kenma would be wanting one.

“I’d be happy to bring it to him,” Kuroo said, “I know where his office is. It’s not an issue.”

Immediately, Kuroo knew that answer was the incorrect one. She tensed up.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave, and please take that with you,” she said, gesturing at the bag, “He doesn’t get food delivered under that name.”

Kuroo let out a breath and set the bag on the desk.

“Okay, fine. I’m his-“ he said, his brain catching up to his mouth, “Friend. I wanted to surprise him with lunch so I grabbed us takeout. I wanted to bring it up to him and say hello. I won’t bother him for too long.”

He wasn’t quite sure what the staff at Bouncing Ball knew about Kenma’s personal life, nor was he quite sure what Kenma wanted the staff to know about his personal life, so he thought friend was a good bet.

“Unfortunately, if you do not have a badge or official business, I can’t let you up there.”

“Oh, I work at the JVA. We work on the volleyball game project with you all. I forgot to mention that,” Kuroo said, “So we also have business. I can get out my JVA badge if you want.”

“He doesn’t do meetings on Wednesdays.”

“Oh, right.“

For what it was worth, Kuroo did know that. Kenma had started Casual Coding Wednesdays. Kuroo wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but he imagined all of the developers lounging around in pajamas and eating chips.

“So, are you a delivery driver, a friend, or a colleague?” she asked, “Just trying to get this straight.”

“Mostly a friend,” Kuroo said, shaking his head, “Sorry. I’m just a friend of his and I wanted to bring him lunch as a surprise. I do work at the JVA, though. That’s true. I’m not the one on the project, though. Our statistician is.”

She stared at him blankly for a moment.

“I apologize, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Kuroo sighed. He was no longer going to be able to keep the surprise a secret.

“Can you call him and ask?” Kuroo asked, “Please?”

She frowned at him.

“I’m not able to do that in this instance-“

“Will you let me upstairs if I call him?”

She looked like she wanted to object, but instead she just shrugged. Kuroo dug his phone out of his pocket and called Kenma, putting the phone on speaker.

“Hey, b-“ Kenma started.

“You’re on speaker,” Kuroo blurted, not wanting him to share things he didn’t want to share with his staff.

“With who?” Kenma asked, “Aren’t you supposed to be in a meeting?”

Kuroo looked over at the secretary.

“Uh, so about that, my meeting got canceled, and so I’m in your building trying to bring you lunch, but I’m currently at the front desk and she won’t let me up.”

Kenma’s laugh came through the speaker clearly.

“Katsuko-san,” Kenma said, “Is this man giving you a hard time?”

Kuroo wanted to point out that she was giving him a hard time if anything.

“He told me he’s your friend, delivery driver, and JVA project colleague, so I wasn’t sure what to make of that,” she explained, “Would you like me to let him up?”

“You busted him. He’s none of those things, but yeah, do you mind swiping him up? I’ll send you over paperwork to get him a badge printed, so you don’t have to worry about it in the future.”

Kuroo was moderately miffed. They were also friends. It wasn’t an incorrect descriptor. He was also moderately jealous. The JVA didn’t have fancy printed visitor badges. They just had little stickers.

“Very well,” she said, standing up, “I can fill it out for you if you tell me what clearances he should have and if I can take his ID.”

Kuroo moved to grab his wallet.

“No worries,” Kenma said, “I’ll have to put in abnormal clearances anyway so I’ll do it.”

Kuroo followed her over to the elevator, awkwardly holding the phone up as the two of them talked.

“Thank you,” she said, “I’ll get that printed once I have the paperwork.”

“Thank you. Sorry for the bother,” Kenma said.

Kuroo stepped into the open elevator.

“No problem at all,” she said, “Sending him up now.”

“Hey,” Kenma said, getting up from his desk, “Welcome.”

Kuroo first noticed that Kenma was wearing jeans, a T-shirt, and a blazer, which stood out to Kuroo as an interesting choice for management apparel. Second, he noticed that there was such warmth in his expression, just enough to melt Kuroo a little bit. Kenma looked ecstatic to see him.

“Hey there,” Kuroo said, setting the bag down on the empty part of Kenma’s desk, “I thought you might want lunch. I’m sure you’re busy, but I wanted to stop by real quick and say hi.”

Kenma peeked down into the bag and smiled. He’d already been smiling but the change was large enough to be perceptible.

“I can be free for the next hour or so,” Kenma said, “I can move my lunch up no problem.”

“I’ll stay for a bit then,” Kuroo said, reaching into the bag to start delegating their meals, “Can I give you a kiss?”

His original plan was to ask when they were in a more secluded area, on an elevator or in a back hallway, but even though Kenma’s office door was open, there didn’t seem to be any other people on the floor. Still, he wanted to make sure it was okay. It was a place of work after all.

“Yes, please.”

Kuroo glanced at the contents of the container he was holding and set it in front of Kenma. He then maneuvered around the corner of the desk to kiss him.

“I love you,” Kuroo said, ghosting a touch on Kenma’s shoulder before returning to his task.

“I love you, too,” Kenma said, his eyes displaying delight and slight surprise.

Kuroo handed out the rest of the containers and sat back in the chair opposite Kenma's.

“I was trying to make this a surprise,” Kuroo said, “But best laid plans, huh?”

Kenma laughed.

“Typically it’s not advised to show up as a stranger, asking to see a celebrity while you’re holding some sort of package,” Kenma explained, “But I admire the confidence.”

Kuroo pressed his lips into a line. He should have known better, particularly since he’d already been caught off guard by Kodzuken’s security detail more than once.

“Yeah. I suppose in retrospect that doesn’t sound great,” Kuroo admitted, “But hey, that’s why you have a dedicated line of defense.”

He felt a little odd sitting opposite a CEO at his desk. For some reason, the positioning made him want to straighten his posture and tighten his tie.

“She’s great,” Kenma said through a bite of food, “I’m kinda shocked she didn’t try to hit you with a broom, though.”

“That’s okay. I would have protected the food and taken it like a man,” Kuroo said, “Before rapidly exiting the building.”

Kenma snorted.

“I’ll finish filling out your paperwork so we can avoid a crisis in the future,” Kenma said, moving his keyboard and mouse to where he could reach them.

“Perfect,” Kuroo said.

The conversation lulled as they ate. Kenma worked on his paperwork. Kuroo looked around at Kenma’s office, amused at the different things around. He wondered if the two TVs with different gaming systems attached got much use. The blazer seek and find uncovered three different blazers at different places in the room. Kuroo assumed that Kenma would take them off during the day and then forget to put them back on before heading home. A mostly dead plant languished in the window, which was odd because there were none at Kenma’s house. A gift, perhaps?

The most common thing, however, were the random pictures strewn around his desk. They weren’t framed or even tacked anywhere. There was zero organization and some were even mostly covered by papers and other office supplies. Kuroo counted them with a sly satisfaction; He was in most of them. There were some of Kenma and his family, Kenma and his friends, and Kenma at different streaming events, but the majority of the pictures were of the two of them over the years. He glanced back and forth between the different photos, making a mental reminder to print some for his own work office. He only had one. The last thing that caught his attention was the little sticky note on one of the monitors. The only thing written on it was ‘good morning, dipshit.’

Kuroo scrunched his face in confusion.

“Did I write that?” Kuroo asked, gesturing to the monitor.

He knew the answer to that question. The handwriting was undeniably his, but he certainly didn’t remember writing it.

“Absolutely, you did!” Kenma said with a laugh, “You don’t remember?”

Not even vaguely. It didn’t make a lot of sense because he hadn’t used the word dipshit in a decade, but the evidence was there.

“I definitely do not.”

“Your third year of high school,” Kenma said, “I slept through half of a team meeting and you wrote that and slapped it on my thigh when I finally showed up. I thought it was funny so I kept it at the time, and I found it at my mom’s with some of my old stuff a few months ago.”

“Can I write you a nicer note?” Kuroo asked.

Something along the lines of ‘sweetheart’ rather than ‘dipshit’ seemed more appropriate.

“Nope,” Kenma said, grabbing the set of sticky notes that were within Kuroo’s reach and tossing them into a drawer, “I like this one, even if you still made me run laps on top of the name-calling.”

”I’ll let you set up a scrimmage, but assign Kenma his laps first.”

Kuroo tried not to let his disappointment show. He was hoping Coach Nekomata would have forgotten or not noticed that Kenma missed the majority of their strategy meeting. Unfortunately, he wasn’t old enough to not notice that the entire control center for their strategy was offline.

“Is it four laps for tardy or is that for missing?” Kuroo asked.

He was hoping it was the latter. He didn’t want to have to punish Kenma so early into his captaincy. As far as Kuroo was concerned, the previous captain made Kenma run more than his due, so he had no vague desire to make Kenma run unless he really deserved it.

“Four is for missing, and two is tardy, but he missed the parts of the meeting that were vital to him, so assign four. Rules apply to the spirit, not the letter of the law. He might as well have missed the entire thing.”

Kuroo nodded.

“Sounds good. Four laps. I’ll send him outside.”

“Wonderful,” the coach said, “Scrimmage minus Kenma in two?”

Kuroo nodded before waving everyone over and splitting them out for the scrimmage.

“We start in two,” Kuroo said, “Kenma, come here.”

Kenma rolled his eyes and walked over.

“What?” he asked.

Clearly he noticed that Kuroo was using what Kenma referred to as his captain voice.

“I have to give you laps for your tardiness,” Kuroo said before quickly lowering his voice, “Do you trust me?”

Kenma made a face at him.

“Are you my only possible option left? I mean I wouldn’t say-“ Kenma started with an exaggerated grimace.

“Yes or no. Quickly.”

He tried to use his leveling with a friend voice rather than his captain voice. He wasn’t sure if there was a difference between the two, but he was giving it his best try. He even set his hand on Kenma’s shoulder to underscore the point.

“Fine. Sure. I trust you,” Kenma said, staring him down.

“Good,” Kuroo said, “Take two laps outside. Run them real slow. You can even walk if you want.”

Kenma batted Kuroo’s hand off his shoulder much harder than necessary.

“Dude. Fuck off,” he whispered, clearly trying to avoid more laps for swearing, though Kuroo could have assigned them if he wanted to, “So much for trusting you, captain.”

He stressed the last word and stomped off.

“Come back ready to play!” Kuroo shouted after him.

“Oh, I remember that now,” Kuroo said, amusement on his lips.

Kenma held a finger up as he finished typing something on his keyboard.

“Sent that off,” Kenma said, returning his mouse and keyboard to their original location, “Should be printed by the time you leave, and if not, I’ll get it to you at some point.”

Kuroo figured the latter would be the case. He only had about twenty minutes before he had to return to his own office. There was no way they’d get a pass printed that quickly. Kenma would honestly just be better off keeping it at his place because Kuroo was moving there in two days anyway.

“Thanks,” Kuroo said, taking a bite of his food.

“No problem. Thank you for coming to see me.”

Kenma smiled at him and Kuroo blew him a kiss before returning to his lunch. He sat for a moment, his mind bouncing around Bouncing Ball.

“So, I’m curious. What are Casual Coding Wednesdays anyway?” Kuroo asked.

The silence wasn’t bothering him, but he thought it would be nice to chitchat while they ate.

“Casual,” Kenma said gesturing down at his clothing, “And then in the morning everyone works, and in the afternoon, starting around one, you can either work on your actual job tasks or work on a personal coding project. Everyone who’s coding something gets together in one of the lounges with screens so we can help each other out.”

Kuroo couldn’t imagine his own workplace doing that. What would they do? Practice jump serves in the breakroom?

“So, some of your employees just don’t work Wednesday afternoons?” Kuroo asked.

Kenma nodded.

“Any of them who are on site and want to do it can. It's mostly the coding devs who do it, but also artists or our social media coordinators will use the time to learn coding skills sometimes. The only ones who can’t are people at the front desk and I don’t think they’d want to anyway.”

Kenma delivered this explanation as if it were a run of the mill workplace activity.

“Isn’t that an inefficient use of company time?”

Kenma shrugged.

“I wouldn’t particularly care if it was but I don’t think so. This way people are less tempted to code other stuff on the clock, and also coding sucks, so having a room full of people look over your stuff can be a huge help, and I think it leads to less burnout. I’m happy to provide that platform and I benefit from it too.”

Kenma gestured with his chopsticks as he talked, but they didn’t help Kuroo follow Kenma’s argument.

“Aren’t you a coder? Like that’s at least what you originally did?” Kuroo asked.

He was entirely sure that was the case, but the way Kenma was talking didn’t make it seem that way.

“Well, yeah. That doesn’t mean coding doesn’t suck. I am lucky enough to have people working for me who have been coding since before I was born and they all think coding sucks too,” Kenma said, “Unless you were confused about the ‘I get help too’ part, which also, I refer back to the ‘coding sucks’ part and the ‘insanely talented staff’ part. We have some super experienced senior devs, but also some young whizzes working here. You’d have to code yourself into a serious hole to stump my team.”

“But don’t they feel awkward about helping you because you’re in charge of them?” Kuroo asked.

He tried to imagine telling his immediate supervisor what to do and that was terrifying. Checking a CEO’s work? Even worse.

“Probably. I mean, who wouldn’t?” Kenma said, “But to be fair I regularly acknowledge that I’m one of the worst coders on the staff and encourage them and thank them for helping with my stuff.”

“You undermine your competence to your employees?” Kuroo asked, wondering what kind of circus Bouncing Ball was operating as.

Kenma shook his head immediately.

“No. I correctly appraise my skill level in comparison to my people,” Kenma said with a shrug, “I’m running the company more than I’m developing these days and even though I’m a decent coder, I don’t have all that much experience. It would be an insult to suggest that I’m generally more skilled than they are.”

“Don’t you think that’s a bad idea though? Like you don’t anticipate an uprising if they’re better than the one in charge?”

Kuroo wasn’t sure why he was interrogating Kenma, but he couldn’t help himself. Bouncing Ball sounded absolutely insane. He wanted a reality television show about it.

“Uprising to what end? I pay myself the company minimum wage, so most of the staff has a higher paycheck than I do and company policy is that most positions can work from home three days a week. Really, I don’t think there’s all that much to uprise about.”

Kuroo was trying not to drop his jaw.

“Goddamn. What’s your company minimum wage? I’ve seen your house.”

Kenma snorted.

“Not as high as you think. Around what you make- probably a little less- but I make probably four or five times as much through Kodzuken activities than I do from Bouncing Ball, so that’s the difference.”

Kuroo was rather aware, sometimes too aware, of their income disparity, but he had assumed the majority of Kenma’s pay was from Bouncing Ball. He had no idea that Kenma could be making way more than he already was if he wanted to.

“What?”

“Technically, Bouncing Ball is a game development company which hosts Kodzuken. Most streamers have companies. This allows me to write off streaming expenses as being business related and eventually it’ll make it easier to hire someone to regularly help with my streams and social media, but Kodzuken income stays separate from Bouncing Ball income. I keep the Kodzuken money, and then Bouncing Ball income pays out employees and reinvests in the company,” Kenma explained, “We’re a newer company, so why pay myself a ton of money I don’t need when I could instead hire people to help get the games off the ground? It sounds dumb, but it should be better off in the long run for everyone this way.”

Kuroo paused. He knew that he wasn’t up to speed on Bouncing Ball and Kodzuken activities, but he didn’t realize how little he actually knew. His goal was to give Kenma space, but he didn’t understand the scope of all the interesting things that were going on in that space. None of it made much sense to him. He’d never worked in a place even close to what Kenma was describing.

“Okay. Hang on. I’m trying to get a vibe on something,” Kuroo said, “Can I ask another question?”

“Do you really want to spend your whole lunch talking Bouncing Ball policies?” Kenma asked, glancing at the time on his monitor.

He didn’t say it in an annoyed way. His tone was tinged with curiosity more than anything else.

Kuroo paused.

“Honestly? Kinda.”

“Ask away,” Kenma said, picking at his food.

He seemed somewhat touched that Kuroo was interested enough to ask him about it. Maybe trying to stay out of Kenma’s literal business was a mistake.