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"wait — seriously?!" you ask, fingers hovering over the screen. missing several notes as they pass in a blur. long forgotten due to that revelation.
kenma shrugs like it doesn't matter. like the fact that he's never kissed someone has never crossed his mind.
(it has. several times, actually, since becoming friends with you. a fact he'd rather die than admit to.)
"it's no big deal really." he murmurs, eyes never leaving his own device.
it's times like this he's grateful that his hair is long. it hides how red his ears now undoubtedly are—hot and burning under your wide-eyed gaze.
"it is too a big deal!" you exclaim, clambering forward until you're sitting on the edge of his bed. staring down at kenma where he's planted on the floor, back against the footboard.
the picture of nonchalance.
kenma sighs. long suffering and burdened. the way he does when he gets stuck on a tricky level. or when kuroo is particularly annoying.
an idea pops into your head—a dangerous one. one that very well may change or even possibly do irreparable damage to your friendship.
"what if i was your first kiss?" the words are out of your mouth before letting the doubts creep in.
his controller slips, clattering to the floor with a rattle, "what?"
"it's less scary that way, right?" you say with all the confidence in the world.
his brain blue screens. full on shut down mode. error bubbles popping up in every corner of his mind, pinging louder than the heavy thumps of his heart. he rubs his ear insistently as if he heard you wrong.
this must be a joke. there's no way you truly want to kiss him.
"don't want your pity kiss." kenma mutters, frowning like a kicked puppy.
"it's not pity." you insist, voice firm and steady. the truth being that you've lost count of the fantasies you cooked up. just how many times had you nearly gotten caught staring at his lips, eyes darting away at the last second before kenma glances up.
those innocent brushes of contact, fingers lingering a breath too long when passing the controller back 'n forth during late night gaming sessions. shoulders bumping when walking side by side. all could be seen as accidental.
but they never were. at least, not on your part.
you slide off the bed, settling beside kenma, thighs resting against one another. a heat blooming between your bodies.
"think of it as practice."
it does little to settle his nerves. kenma doesn't want it to be practice, he wants it to be real. the one thing he doesn't do though? stop you. because he also doesn't want to miss the chance to feel your lips on his. so he let's you lean in close, counting the rings in your eyes. his breathing halts altogether when your hand rests on his knee.
his hands twitch in his lap, antsy and uncertain. what the hell does he do with em? leaving them in his lap makes his skin itch, a nervous buzz he can't ignore. kenma realizes he wants to touch you. to feel the warmth of your body against his. a craving that runs deeper with every passing second.
slowly, like approaching a scared animal, you take kenma's hands into yours, guiding them to rest on your waist. minute tremors vibrate up your body.
neither of you could have predicted that kenma would be the one to close the gap.
the first brush is soft, featherlight and almost non-existent. yet the jolt that hits you is like lightning. kenma's lips are surprisingly soft.
but then he's pulling away. already retreating before you could even process the kiss—if you can even call it that.
desperate to not break the contact, your hands fist into his hair, gently tugging him back in. not missing the soft whine he utters against your mouth. your lips slot together like puzzle pieces, moving slowly. it's cautious. careful. wanting to deepen the kiss without scaring him off.
it ends too quickly.
cracking your eyes open, hazy and half-lidded to see the furious blush dusting across kenma's face. he refuses to meet your eyes, picking at a fraying thread on his sleeve.
"that wasn't so bad, was it?" you tease, he grunts, "awful. never do that again."
it would be a hell of a lot more believable if he wasn't stealing glances at your lips. golden irises nearly eclipsed in his addled, delirious state.
poor guy is going to have a heart attack on the spot. maybe pass out from oxygen loss.
"breathe, kenma." you capture his chin between your thumb and index, lightly running your finger along his jawline.
he takes in a shuddering breath, letting his shoulders drop on the exhale.
pinkish golden rays wash over the two of you, softening the edges of the moment into quiet contentment. video game music the backdrop to hesitat smiles, knees knocking as you playfully nudge each other in attempts to take the lead in mario kart.
and many, many stolen kisses in between matches.