Work Text:
“Hey, hey, hey! Kuroo! My main woman!” Bokuto calls out, which earns him a dirty look from an old man passing by. “Kenma!” He adds, oblivious. The sound carries on the wind, almost making you wince. He’s loud. Can’t seem to get used to it, you. A decade and it’s still a jump-scare you always get got by, a club to the head with 99% of a level cleared.
Kuroo salutes him with two fingers and winks, clicking her tongue. Bitter wind’s biting both of your faces but her smile’s radiant. She’s always happy to see Bokuto—that you know—and is never caught off guard by her special guy. You always make a point to emphasize that it’s exactly as weird as it sounds.
Your eyes sting. The wind is really not agreeable to your perpetually dry skin either. Ah, well. Should’ve worn another scarf, should’ve used a moisturizer, should’ve gone to bed earlier, should’ve-should’ve-should’ve. When it comes to corporeal existence, you only ever understand what you’ve sown when it’s time to reap, anyway.
You lower your head to get a bit of a reprieve from the elements just as Kuroo puts an arm around you to urge you forward. It makes you stumble and cling to Kuroo’s puffer coat to not kiss the concrete. Her stride is too long.
“Oops.” She stops abruptly. You find your balance, tear yourself off her side and hold on to her above the elbow instead. Better. Soft and safe. Kuroo stuffs her hands in pockets. Together you march the rest of the way, arms linked.
“Bokuto, buddy!” Kuroo grins when your little group amalgamates at last. You feel her shift her weight. “Were you raised in a barn? Your girlfriend’s supposed to be your main woman!” Her body tenses briefly. She must’ve wanted to slap his shoulder or something, but to do that she would’ve needed to dislodge your arms. You stay where you are.
Bokuto gawks at her and whips his head to look at Akaashi.
“I really don’t care,” Akaashi says, stone-faced, waving her hand dismissively. She pulls her face mask down. Her cheeks are ruddy underneath. “Hi, Kuroo-san. Kenma.”
“Hi, guys,” you mumble.
“Hey. Oya? Lemme see.” Kuroo offers a hand palm up, expectant. Wiggles her fingers.
Akaashi shows Kuroo her manicured nails, round and baby blue, droplets gleaming in the afternoon dullness of December. Kuroo takes her hand to examine it closer, careful.
“Pretty,” she concludes. “Your hand is cold.”
God, Kuroo is shameless. Your hand is cold, too. You tighten your hold on Kuroo’s arm. The polyester creaks, and her attention shifts to you. She drops Akaashi’s hand. Akaashi, unperturbed, procures a pair of gloves from her handbag.
Kuroo touches your fingers on her sleeve. You relax your iron grip just so, suddenly self-conscious. Okay, not too tight. Now you surely come off normal.
“Eesh, Kyanma. You should start wearing gloves, too,” she laments and rubs your knuckles with her thumb. Her hand lingers.
You notice that Akaashi notices, her eyes flickering from Kuroo’s hand on yours to your face. You narrowly avoid eye-contact with her. Life is all about being good at QTEs.
“So, how d’you wanna do it, people?” Kuroo asks. “Sharks now, food later?”
“Sounds good.” Akaashi nods. She turns to Bokuto. “You aren’t hungry already, are you?”
“Nope!”
Kuroo falters, turns to you. “Kenma?”
“Nope,” you mutter.
“You’re sure? Trying to make you eat breakfast was a real bust today.”
You feel your face heat up. In front of your friends, really? You attempt to sneak a glance at Akaashi.
Yeah, what kind of expression was that, just now?
“Kuro, stop fussing,” you sputter, heart in your throat, and wrench your hand free. “Can we go? I’d love to see a shark before the sun explodes, thanks.”
Bokuto sighs and looks at you, sympathetic, as if you being occasionally unsociable is a terrible affliction.
You frown, worry your lip between your teeth. Put your hand back on Kuroo’s arm, feeling the stitching of the sleeve with your fingertips. She stares at you, brows raised. You might be a little bit hungry, on second thought.
“Jeez,” Kuroo deadpans. Unlike Bokuto, she’s unmoved by your little outburst. “Well, you heard her. Sharks it is.”
*
The aquarium is great. You love the aquarium. Your interest in marine life is mild, but the place is chill, dimly-lit, and everyone is expected to keep it down. Top 15 places to be, maybe.
You’re also acutely aware, however, that most people here are either parents with children or couples on dates.
Bokuto and Akaashi, for example, are clearly on a date. They’re holding hands and everything, gazing down at glowing jellyfish. Bokuto points at the water and whispers something in Akaashi’s ear. She shakes her head, but a small smile takes shape on her delicate face. She covers it with her hand, shy. Soft blue light makes her nails appear white, like tiny shark bellies.
You return your attention to the eels in the tank in front of you. You wonder if they can see you, if they think you’re also an eel.
Kuroo comes to stand beside you, gives your shoulders a habitual squeeze, and lets go.
“Kuro. Do eels think we’re eels? Also, why are we on a date with Bokuto and Akaashi?”
“Hm. I don’t think their cognition is advanced enough to think one way or another. And we’re not.” She peers down at you, grinning. “Bokuto and Akaashi are on a date with each other. You and me, Kenma, we’re third-wheeling. Fourth-wheeling?”
“Why are we third-wheeling?” You look up at her.
Kuroo frowns, makes a tsk sound. You see her tongue pick out for a split second. “What’s the matter, you’re not having fun?”
This is not at all what you were getting at. Now you have approximately 30 seconds to course-correct before she gets in her head about it.
“I am,” you choke out, then clear your throat. “Having fun. I’m having fun.”
Kuroo smiles at you apologetically. You like it when she smiles at you, but this kind of smile isn’t your favorite. You set your mind on showing even more enthusiasm about fish, then.
Kuroo sighs and cranes her neck to look at Akaashi and Bokuto, which prompts you to do the same.
They’re still lingering near the jellyfish tanks. It can’t possibly be that fascinating, can it? If they want bioluminescence explained to them, they should just ask Kuroo, like you did.
They’re also still holding hands. Akaashi’s shark belly nails are caught in Bokuto’s claw.
So, this is why you’re so angst-ridden about it: you kind of want Kuroo to hold your hand, too. There’s no reason for her not to, she’s never afraid to come off weird and gay. She is weird and gay. You are weird and gay. You wonder if there’s a way to telegraph this desire to her somehow, without actually spelling it out. Fish can do that, right? Communicate without words? Humans are too smart for their own good.
You turn to her, resolute. She tilts her head, turns to you. Tucks a lock of hair behind your ear, and then catches a stray strand near your neck. She rubs it between her thumb and forefinger. Your determination vanishes just as suddenly and surely as it appeared.
“Split ends,” Kuroo says. “You need a haircut.”
“You need a haircut.”
“I’m growing it out!”
You squint at her. Growing it out? Her hair is wild and wavy, almost past her shoulders now. In high school she always used to crop it short for convenience. Now she looks like some sort of a thundercloud all the time, since she’s so averse to hair ties.
But it’s not…bad. It does look…good? Dark and shiny, like a ball of black moray eels, and coarse. You like touching it.
“What?” Kuroo asks. “You prefer it short?”
You nibble at your lower lip again. “’m not sure.”
Do you? You never really thought about it. Kuroo is just Kuroo, she always looks fine to you. Well, good. She always looks good to you. Sometimes she looks hot to you, even. Ugh.
Kuroo puffs her cheeks and blows the air out.
“Ah. Anyway. Regarding our lovebirds. You know how it is.” She abandons your hair and puts her palm on the side of your neck. “Honeymoon stage. I feel ya, though, it’s a bit much.”
She looks at Bokuto and Akaashi past your shoulder. You don’t feel the need to turn around, taking it as an opportunity to stare at Kuroo’s face. Her features are sharp, but her expression is contemplative, almost longing.
A school of fish darts behind the glass, catching your attention. When you turn your head, you become hyperaware of Kuroo’s hand on your neck. Her thumb strokes your earlobe only once, absentmindedly. You hold your breath for a few seconds and exhale slowly, just like YouTube tutorials taught you.
“How is this not public indecency, huh?” Kuroo continues, evidently unaware of what kind of torment she’s putting you through this very moment. “Can’t lie, though, they do look awfully content. God, I’m kinda jealous. You know what, you think they might be looking for a third, hm? Maybe I should get in there, what d’you think?”
You stop your inconspicuous breathing exercise and blink. What?
Your eyes dart to Kuroo’s face. Her smile is impish, all teeth. Provocative. You’re usually 50/50 on this one. It’s designed to elicit an emotional response, to dumbfound you a little. She likes being outrageous, and likes you reactive.
Sometimes you indulge her, a little bit of back-and-forth gets you going. Not this time.
You turn to the tank and rest your forehead against the glass, closing your eyes. It’s hard and cool. You imagine, for a second, that you’re on the other side, with the eels.
“Do fish dream?” You ask her.
“Aren’t you curious today,” Kuroo muses aloud, sounding almost awestruck. Your neck is on fire. “I’m not a marine biologist, you know,” she says. You hear another, entirely different type of smile in her voice. “I’ll get back to you on that.”
*
“So, are you gonna show her around Tokyo?” Kuroo inquires, all business-like. Her warm palm leaves your leg on her lap briefly, you hear the rustle of a page being turned. Then it’s back on your knee again.
“It’s not Shouko’s first time in Tokyo.” You frown, eyes glued to the screen of your Switch. You’re occupied with trying to bash Master Kohga’s head in.
“Kenma.” Kuroo sighs, exasperated. “I’m asking if you two made plans, obviously.” She strokes the hair on your leg all the way from your knee to your ankle and back. It feels soothing, but you have a T-shirt and a hoodie on, and the warmth gap between your upper half and your lower half is starting to get uncomfortable.
“She’s meeting up with Kageyama on Tuesday, I think.” You pause the game to wriggle out of the hoodie. “We’ll figure something out ‘till then, I guess.”
You shove the redundant piece of clothing away. Right, back to Master Kohga.
“We should take her somewhere fun,” Kuroo insists. Always a woman with a plan. Oh, how she likes plans. “Ni-chome, maybe?” She suggests, wrapping an arm around your bare legs.
“Do you just wanna go to Ni-chome?”
“Always, but it doesn’t have to be Ni-chome. ‘Somewhere fun’ is the key word.”
You grumble something unintelligible in response, distracted by the game, and Kuroo yanks you by your legs to get your attention. You have to awkwardly hold your knees still to avoid socking her in the jaw. You lose to Master Kohga.
“C’mon, what does she like?” Kuroo asks, propping her chin on your knee. “Besides, you know…” She mimes a spike with her hand.
You don’t get time to think about it because the doorbell rings.
“Oh!” Kuroo exclaims, letting go of you. “That would be Shrimpy, I gather? Speak of the devil.”
You drop your Switch and jump off the bed, looking around for a pair of pants. Kuroo takes the Switch and puts it on the nightstand. You walk around the bed, puzzled. No pants in sight. Tug the blanket, nothing under.
“Um.” You look up at Kuroo.
She feels around the sheets and blankets, and pulls out your ratty pyjama bottoms from underneath herself. You snatch them, and try to put them on, almost tripping on the opulent fuzzy rug you bought when all the Kodzuken money got a little bit to your head. Perfect for laying down, a nightmare to vacuum. Or so Kuroo said when she vacuumed it yesterday, you wouldn’t know.
“Kyanma, don’t kill yourself,” Kuro grunts, crawling out of the bed. She walks past you, to the hallway. Long strides. You emerge victorious in the hostile encounter with pants and hurry after.
When Kuroo opens the door, Shouko’s high-pitched voice fills your house instantly.
“Kuroo-san!”
“Hey, girl!” Kuroo ushers her inside just as you finally reach the door. “Long time no see. Welcome.”
“Kenmaaa!” Shouko yells, louder, and almost leaps at you over her suitcase. You settle on an awkward hug, the suitcase between you like a volleyball net. You shiver upon contact with her cold winter jacket and rub her back. She nuzzles your face with her cheek, also cold. Cute.
“Alright, people, keep it moving,” Kuroo says, manoeuvring you to get to Shouko’s bags.
“Sorry for intruding! I’ll get it!” Shouko protests, bending down to get out of her Nikes.
“You’re good.” Kuroo smirks and wheels the suitcase farther into the genkan.
“This is my house,” you say.
“And yet you’re keeping your guest on the doorstep.”
*
“Thanks for letting me stay, Kenma,” Shouko tells you, mouth full of store-bought gyudon, the only thing you could offer her at this hour. You’ll have to go grocery shopping first thing in the morning. Ugh. “I really hope I’m not inconveniencing you guys.”
“Aw, Shouko-chan,” Kuroo drawls, amused. Her chin is propped on her hand. She’s watching Shouko devour a bowl of rice and beef at 11 PM like one watches a puppy chase its own tail. “The more the merrier. Besides, you should make use of our Kodzuken here living in a mansion.”
“It’s a 3LDK,” you say, piercing a piece of cold sponge cake in front of you with a fork. You’ve eaten too much sponge cake over the last month and now you’re kind of over it. And you’re craving chocolate.
“As I said.”
“Do I get to stay in your gaming room?” Shouko asks, suddenly. Her eyes are sparkling. There’s a grain of rice stuck to the corner of her mouth.
“Um. No.” You furrow your brow in confusion. “I work from there, you know. No, you get a real bedroom.”
“Oh, okay.” She deflates momentarily, but quickly returns to her meal. She swallows a piece of beef. “Wait. Where does Kuroo-san sleep? You’re not making her sleep on a futon because of me, are you?”
“I don’t own a futon,” you mumble in response, eyes on the cake.
“Shrimpy,” Kuroo grunts, standing up. “Relax. We’ll share. She’s got a prince-sized bed. You know, because she’s a prince living in a mansion.” She makes her way across your kitchen and opens the fridge. “Do you want cake?”
“Yes, please!”
Kuroo gets Shouko the last remaining piece of Castella and pours everyone another cup of tea. She sits back in her spot at the table, eyeing your untouched dessert, and sighs.
“You don’t have to eat it if you don’t want to,” she says and gently tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear.
You break off a tiny piece of cake with your fork, soft and golden-brown, and bring it to Kuroo’s face. She hesitates for a second, but then leans down to take it in her mouth.
“It’s good.” She chews carefully. “Okay, I’ll have it.”
She sticks her hand out, waiting for you to give her the fork. You don’t. You stab another piece of cake and offer it to Kuroo, again.
She looks at you, looks at the cake on the fork, then at the cake on the plate. At you again. Ah, fuck, you’re already looking her in the eye, you kind of have to continue to stare now. Really didn’t think this through, did you.
She bites, finally. A tiny piece breaks off and falls on the table, and you both reach for it simultaneously. Your hands brush.
“Kuroo-san?” Shouko calls out. You almost jump, the fork in your hand a weapon now.
“Ah, yeah?” Kuroo replies, distracted. She blinks, takes her eyes off you after a beat and looks at Shouko. “What is it?”
“Are you living with Kenma now, then?” Shouko asks. You stiffly turn to her, too. Half of her dessert is gone already.
“Not permanently,” Kuroo slowly takes the fork from you. “Just until the end of January, I think. I quit my job last month, you know. I need to get a new one, and get a new place.” She sounds disconcerted. “Well, and finish my master’s. It’s, uh, a long train ride from here to Todai.”
“Oh, I see,” Shouko says and nods neutrally. You can’t really tell what she’s thinking, or why she’s asking.
“Yeah,” Kuroo affirms in a near whisper.
You take your cup of sencha in your hands and stare at the single, tiny dry leaf at the very bottom. It provides no answers for you, no advice. You’re dreading January.
*
Ice skating wins over karaoke. You’re not mad about it, it’s probably best to give Shouko and Bokuto some space to thrash about, anyway.
“I should probably mention that I’ve never tried this before,” Shouko says, diligently lacing up her skates with a look of intense concentration on her face.
“It’s easy. Just stay close at first,” Kuroo tells her. She looms over you, blades making her appear even taller.
“Yeah!” Bokuto echoes enthusiastically. He stomps around in his skates, impatient, and Akashi waves for him to sit down.
“It’ll be fun,” you say, giving in to an unexpected impulse. You’re sitting right next to Shouko, and she turns to you and catches your clammy hand, squeezes and shakes it right and left, all while grinning. She’s vibrating with excitement almost, like a marigold flower on top of a washing machine.
Seeing her so happy makes your cold little heart melt. You missed her, and you’re glad she’s here.
On instinct, you turn to look at Kuroo, because it’s what you prefer to do when you experience a strong emotion in public.
Kuroo smiles warmly at you two. She catches your eye and winks, then nods in the direction of the path to the ice rink.
When the five of you wobble your way there, it’s somewhat busy with people already. They move in a languid, half-hearted circuit that’s only disturbed by more confident skaters and children zipping around.
It doesn’t take long for Shouko to get the hang of it. You hold her hand at first, she skates a lap clinging to Kuroo’s arm, and pretty soon she’s all set to start racing Bokuto.
“Slow down a bit, you crazy kids!” Kuroo yells after them when they swoosh by. “Jeez. What was I talking about?”
“Vacations,” Akaashi supplies, wistful. She’s gliding on your right side. Her movements are so fluid, and she looks like some kind of a folktale ice princess with her bright white coat and neat black hair.
“Oh, yeah. Kenma’s parents are in Malaysia right now and they keep sending us pictures of sandy beaches and stuff.”
“Mom’s just laying the groundwork to convince us to go with them next year,” you mutter.
“Well, I wouldn’t mind,” Kuroo says and moves as if she wants to throw an arm around your shoulders, but then remembers that you’re on skates. “I’ll have a big girl job by then, hopefully, so…Shame it coincided with Hinata’s visit this year, you could’ve gone with Mom and Dad. You need some time in the sun.”
You catch her sleeve only for a brief moment. “I didn’t want to, anyway,” you say, staring at the ice.
You really didn’t. It’s not that you have anything against Malaysia or vacations with your parents (although your mom always wanting to drag you around town makes you feel fifteen again). It’s just that you didn’t want to waste Kuroo’s stay at your house being away from your house.
“You’re so weird,” Kuroo says, her voice brimming with affection. She doesn’t mean it. She curls her index finger around yours.
Bokuto and Shouko catch up with you.
“How’s it going?” Akaashi asks, corners of her mouth going up a fraction.
“Ready to join the Olympic skating team!” Shouko grins.
“You’re really good at it.” Akaashi tells her pleasantly.
“Damn right she is!” Bokuto proclaims, puffing his chest, and sticks his hand out for Kuroo, “We’re the best teachers!”
Kuroo emphatically high-fives him. “Fucking right, man! You tell ‘em.”
“I just wish there was a way to, like, score,” Shouko says, rubbing her chin.
“God.” Kuroo widens her eyes in mock astonishment and elbows you lightly. “The children yearn for hockey.”
Bokuto slows down to go around you and get to Akaashi’s side.
“C’mon!” He offers his arm to her.
“Well, everyone, see you in a minute, I guess,” she says and takes his arm. They take off, and you catch the sound of Akaashi’s rare bright laughter. Like bells.
“Kuroo-san! Race me!” Shouko shouts.
“Girl,” Kuroo replies skeptically. “Fine. I’ll try. Let’s go.”
Shouko speeds up, but Kuroo lingers behind. She looks at you, questioning, and you firmly shake your head. Kuroo smirks and moves to go after Shouko.
You get to enjoy solitude for only a little bit, because a child you’ve never seen before skates towards you. He looks about ten and very determined. It scares you.
“Are you Kodzuken from the Internet?” he asks. His big eyes bore right into your soul.
“Nope,” you lie.
“Are you sure?”
“Pretty sure.”
“Okay,” he says, squinting at you. Purses his lips. He doesn’t believe you. “I’m Haruto.”
“I’m Kenma.”
“That’s a boy’s name.”
“Yeah.”
“You’re not a boy.” He gives you a suspicious look. There’s a Garfield bandaid on his cheek, and he picks at it.
“No. It’s a nickname. My parents call me by my girl name, and my friends call me by my boy name,” you say. That’s the best way you can explain your twenty-three-year-old self going by your nickname you were traversing the Internet with as a child to a child.
The boy takes a second to think about it. You inconspicuously look around for his mother. Or Kuroo. You need either one of them to come save you right now.
“That’s pretty cool,” the kid says at last.
“Hey.” Kuroo, your guardian angel, appears. “What’s going on here?”
“Haruto!” A young woman skates towards you. Your age, too young to be the boy’s mother. Sister, maybe.
“Mai! This is Kodzuken!” The boy points at you, excited. You shuffle closer to Kuroo to try and hide behind her back.
“Who?” the girl asks and looks up at you and Kuroo. “I’m sorry, is my brother bothering you?”
“I think he might’ve mistaken my friend here for someone else,” Kuroo gaslights the child.
“No I didn’t!”
“Haruto!” The girl turns him by the shoulders. “Go. Don’t pester anyone else.” She presses her palm to his cheek to smooth over the bandaid. “And stop picking at it!”
“But—“
“Go!”
The boy huffs and glares at his sister, then eyes you suspiciously one last time, and skates away.
“Sorry, he’s so stubborn sometimes!” The girl presses her palms together in an apologetic gesture. Her large statement earrings catch the bright light and shimmer beautifully.
Kuroo chuckles. “On babysitting duty?”
“Yeah,” the girl answers and sighs. She takes another look at Kuroo. “Ah, hi.”
“Hi.” Kuroo grins. You can tell where this is going already. “I like your…” She makes a vague gesture to her own ear.
“Oh, thanks!” The girl smiles. Blushes, too. “I’m Mai.”
You slip away, joining the crowd on its circular path. You don’t need to see all that. Actually, you’re here to skate with Shouko. A very unpleasant emotion boils inside you, bitter and black. Usually you’d do what you always do and turn to Kuroo, but, well. Sometimes she’s the source.
It is what it is. Kuroo is hot. Kuroo is smart. Like, very smart, grad school smart. Too smart for most guys, and too self-assertive. But there are some who are into that kind of thing, too. Her boyfriend from undergrad, for example. Good guy. Spent a lot of time trying to make you and Bokuto like him; had more success with Bokuto. You tried, really tried, and felt bad for hating his guts as passionately as you did.
You turn your head to glance at Kuroo and that Mai girl. She laughs and starts reaching for her phone, surely to ask Kuroo to add her on LINE.
Girls are obsessed with her. It’s actually kind of uncanny.
Point being, people like Kuroo, and they want to be with her. A lot of people who are normal and good, and who can articulate their feelings.
You, on the other hand, tend to attract some real freaks. It’s just undeniable. It has worked out in your favor once or twice, however, so you can’t really complain. But, yeah, freaks flock to you.
None of them are Kuroo, though. That’s the thing, right? It’s—
Akaashi startles you by taking your arm. Where did she even come from?
“Your doujin thing is coming up, yes?” Akaashi asks, looking straight ahead.
“Comiket, you mean?” You frown. “Um, I guess so.”
“Will you go?”
“Dunno.” You move awkwardly, looking up to try and gauge her intention. But she knows you, and she gives you nothing. It’s pointless. “Maybe. Why?”
“I just thought we could go together. You and me, I mean.”
“What, without your boyfriend?”
“Yes, and without your Kuroo.”
Oookay.
“Then I want Bokuto there,” you demand.
She snorts. “It’s merely a suggestion. I just thought you might want to talk about something.”
“Something?”
“Well, anything. If there’s something you don’t want to talk about with Kuroo-san. For example.”
“There isn’t.” You’ll just play dumb, it’s fine.
“Okay. You don’t have to convince me,” she says cordially, adjusting her hair. “I’ll take your answer at face value.”
A silence falls for a minute or two. She keeps holding your arm, you glide together. It starts to feel sort of meditative. You wonder if that’s the point.
“Do you even read doujinshi?” you ask.
“For work, sometimes.”
Bokuto catches up to you and takes Akaashi’s other arm. “What’s up?”
“Kenma was telling me that she wants you to go to a convention with us.”
“Cool!” He beams. “I’m in.”
*
You spend Thursday evening alone at home. Kuroo is out running errands, Shouko left early to meet up with Kageyama, and you don’t usually stream on Thursdays.
You do some light cleaning (as in you load the dishwasher), read some manga, take a nap. Remember to brush your teeth but forget to wash your face. Confirm with Kuroo’s dad that you’re coming for New Year’s. Play some Resident Evil.
Shouko returns around 5 PM. You notice that something is wrong instantly, when she doesn’t start talking your ear off the moment you let her in. She grimly unzips her jacket, hangs it. Discards her shoes and goes to the living room straight away,
“How was it with Kageyama?” you carefully ask, trailing behind.
She shrugs, doesn’t look at you. “Fine, I guess.”
You bite your lip and straighten your oversized T-shirt. You slept in it last night. “Are you hungry? I have some pizza left. Or I can make something. Or tell Kuro to buy something on her way back.”
“I’d love some pizza,” Shouko says and sits down on the couch. Her shoulders sag. Her expression, so severe a moment ago, turns dejected.
“Okay. I’ll make tea, then,” you say. “Be right back.”
When you return, you find Shouko staring at the words YOU ARE DEAD in bright red letters on your TV screen.
“I made your guy die, sorry,” she says cheerlessly. “This game is very scary, by the way.”
“It’s okay. Want to watch me play something else?”
For the first time this evening, Shouko looks up at you. Her sad little face scrunches, and she hides it in her hands. You hear a whimper.
Oh no.
You stand there, holding a mug of hot tea in your hands, completely frozen for a good 10 seconds.
“Shouko,” you try. “Um. Shouko-chan?” That doesn’t even sound right. “Shouko?”
Shouko’s whimpers turn into sobs, she lowers her head.
God. You feel totally out of your depth here.
You come closer and crouch down, still holding the mug, and put it down on the coffee table. You touch Shouko’s knee, trying to see her face. “Hey. Um. You’re okay?”
Another sob, and a violent shiver. Okay. Will you have to get in there? You’ll probably have to get in there, right? Seeing her so upset is like torture.
You tentatively pry one of her hands away from her face and hold it. She looks at you, wet-faced and puffy-eyed. You don’t know what to make of her expression, you’ve never seen Shouko cry. It’s unsettling. You feel distraught. No, she is distraught, you’re being useless.
“Can you, um”—you squeeze her hand in yours—“tell me what happened? Did—Kageyama say something?”
“No!” Shouko answers wetly and sniffs. Then scoffs and scowls. “Not a thing! Stupidyama,” she finally grits out.
“Okay…”
“Kenma.” Shouko wipes away her tears and grips your hands, imploring you to look at her again, like she’s ready to reveal something of utmost importance. “I think I’m in love with her.”
“Okay. That’s…okay,” you answer and nod. That figures, to be honest. You rub small, soothing circles into the bone of Shouko’s wrist.
You hear the front door open, some shuffling, and then Kuroo’s voice. “I’m home!”
You don’t reply. Predictably, it makes her reach the living room faster.
“Hey, kids. Everything alright?” Kuroo pops up, leaning on the doorframe with her arm. She catches sight of you crouching in front of Shouko. “Oh. Hey. What’s up?” she asks cautiously.
You grimace, silently asking for help.
“Shouko-chan, are you okay?” Kuroo asks and sits down on the couch next to her, bending down to catch Shouko’s eyes. Her unruly hair falls over her face, and she has to push it away.
“I’m fine,” Shouko replies, more mad than sad now, like she wasn’t crying all over your couch just a minute ago. Only the redness of her face and the salt on her eyelashes give it away now. “It’s just that Kageyama is a thick-headed idiot oblivious to anyone’s feelings!”
“I see.” Kuroo looks at you, then back at Shouko. She nods sagely. “Girl trouble?”
“Yeaaah,” Shouko draws out and leans her head on Kuroo’s shoulder.
You exhale and will your heart to still. Crisis averted. Good job. Proceed to the next level.
You look up at Kuroo.
She hugs Shouko sideways and rubs her shoulder. Looks at you and mouths It’s gonna be fine. Don’t worry. Then she pats the space beside her.
You climb up the couch and dive under Kuroo’s arm, too. Your favorite place to be, finally.
“If Kageyama’s oblivious, I think you just need to be more direct with her,” Kuroo says.
Shouko makes a non-committal sound. “I guess.” She melts into Kuroo’s side. “I wish I liked someone more like you, Kuroo-san, you’re great!”
Kuroo chortles. Shouko lets out a high-pitched yelp and giggles, indicating that Kuroo attempted to tickle her.
“Girl, be careful what you wish for!”
You stretch out on the couch, hug Kuroo’s waist and slide down, ending up with your cheek on her thigh.
Her hand, inevitably, finds your nape.
“Alright. Kodzuken-san, what are we playing, hm? Oh, is that Biohazard?” she asks.
“Yes,” you say and turn onto your back. Kuroo looks funny from this angle, but it’s bad for your stiff neck. You turn to your other side and bury your face into Kuroo’s belly. Her T-shirt smells like your laundry detergent. She strokes the shell of your ear.
“Kenmaaa, can I play Zelda on your Switch?” Shouko asks, poking the top of your head with her forefinger.
“Yes. It’s in my bedroom.”
The couch cushion springs back as Shoko stands up and runs to your room.
“I’ll get Leon killed a couple of times and then dinner?” Kuroo asks. “I bought chocolate cake for dessert.” There’s amusement in her voice; her hands cradle your head. You resist the urge to start chewing on the fabric of her T-shirt out of some kind of a bizarre emotion.
“You play as Ethan Winters in Biohazard,” you reply.
*
Life’s simple joys. Lying with your cheek on a girl’s braless chest. Well, not just a girl’s. Kuroo’s. If you’re really, really honest with yourself, ever since you were fifteen or so, there’s always been the girl for you.
You listen to the steady rhythm of Kuroo’s heart, drifting on the verge of sleep. Your mind starts flicking through fantastic, peculiar images and feelings, harbingers of dreams.
You’re an eel. Kuroo catches you in the water, and you slip into her sleeve. You’ll stay here now, forever and ever. This is your new home. Who needs the ocean, anyway.
“I looked it up,” Kuro whispers. You emerge out of her sleeve, your gentle dream. You’re Kenma again. Kuroo’s hand is stroking your hair. “Fish experience REM sleep. So they might experience something akin to dreaming, too.”
You can’t take it. You think back to Shouko’s gloomy, lovelorn face. Sit up in the bed and touch Kuroo’s shoulder.
“Kuro.”
“What?” She winks the sleep away and rubs her eyes. “Hey. What’s up?”
“Don’t,” you choke out.
“Don’t?” Kuroo props herself on her forearm.
“Don’t get into a threesome with Bokuto and Akaashi.”
She stares at you, dumbfounded. Silence stretches out. She opens her mouth, closes it and covers her face with her hand. “Kyanma! Oh my god!” Kuroo exclaims and then full on cackles, like a hyena. “It was a joke, I was joking!”
You know it was a joke. Sort of. But many a true word is spoken in jest, or so they say.
“Why not?” Kuroo asks.
“Are you serious?” you demand, incredulous.
“Tell me.”
“You know why not,” you grumble, frown and turn away from her.
“I have an idea, but I’d like you to tell me,” she says, ever so soft. She hugs you from behind and nuzzles your cheek. “C’mon. Cat’s out of the bag.”
“Do you really need me to?” you ask, leaning your head away slightly, enough to make a point but not enough to stop her from actually touching you. You’re pretty sure you’re on the brink of cardiac arrest at this point. You might also have a fever.
“I’d like you to,” Kuroo says. You feel the smile on her lips. She presses her face to yours and flutters her eyelashes against your cheek, giving you a butterfly kiss. It was her favorite thing to do when you were kids.
“Because. I want to be with you,” you mutter. There’s no point in trying to weasel your way out of this now, you’ve already lost. “So you shouldn’t—I want to be with you, so don’t be with other people. If you want to be with me too, I mean. Only if you want to.”
You say the last part so quietly you’re not sure if she hears you. But she does, of course.
“Of course I want to,” she replies, effortless.
You chew on your lip. “Could’ve told me yourself, if you’re so sure.”
You’re still moody. You’re also so happy you feel like you might choke on it. Maybe you didn’t lose at all, maybe you won.
You turn around in the circle of Kuroo’s arm to face her. She kisses your nose.
“Well, Kenma. Let’s try to see it from my perspective, hm?” Kuroo says, smiling. “So I have this friend, right? My very best friend in the entire world—“
“Bokuto?”
“Shut up.” She laughs. “So. Back to my best friend. I love her, obviously. Well, surely I tell you that often enough,” she affirms, tucking your hair behind your ear. “But over the years I start to realize, like, God, I’m in love with her. And then I start to think, I’m pretty sure she likes me back, too.”
Well, duh. You patiently wait for her to get to the point.
“I didn’t—I wanted to give you time.” She sighs and scratches her cheek. “Options, I guess. Figured that if it was something you wanted you would’ve told me, eventually. I hate to push you, you know. I kinda have to, sometimes, otherwise your fiber intake tanks. But I hate to do it unnecessarily.”
“I see,” you say and take a second to reflect on that.
Fundamentally, you’re aware that, as far as being a person goes, you’re maybe 75% there. You skip hair conditioner 4 times out of 5. You sleep in the T-shirts you wear outside. Your hunger cues are all messed up, and you don’t own an iron. There are things in life you just don’t really get, so on most of them you just follow Kuroo’s directions and do stuff she tells you to do. So you can sorta, kinda get where she’s coming from.
But you don’t really mind. You never view it as anything other than her caring for you. You never do things you don’t want to do anyway, on principle. She knows that.
In fact, you want to be that kind of person for her, too. Desperately. A nurturing friend, someone who’s deeply invested in her life and well-being. Not just buys her stuff with Twitch money, although, admittedly, it does make you feel real good. Like, real good.
But you try to learn the names of her classmates and professors. Which ones annoy her, which ones she likes. You listen to her talk about her research and you ask questions, even though all of it is very difficult to comprehend. You laboriously read through her favorite sci-fi novel because you wanted to understand why she liked it so much. And you kinda did, it was pretty good.
The thing is, isn’t it kinda obvious that you would always want to choose her?
“Dumb reasoning,” you conclude. “And you’re a coward.”
“Yep,” she readily agrees and nods for further emphasis. “That too, absolutely. My smart Kenma, you’re so discerning.”
“It wouldn’t hurt for you to be more selfish,” you tell her, feeling vulnerable and honest. “I want…Dunno. Do things for you. I really…Um. Appreciate you. You know. But I want you to, like, feel it, too.”
“Aw. Aaaaw.”
“Stop,” you mutter and lower your forehead on her shoulder. Then you bite the collar of her T-shirt and chew on it. Fuck it, you don’t even care anymore.
“You do a lot of things for me,” Kuroo objects. She tenderly kisses your hair. Your heart skips a beat.
“Your bar is low.”
Kuroo laughs and eases the both of you down on the bed.
You end up on top of her, looking down. Here she is: your beautiful, treasured friend. You like her smile; it’s your favorite. Fond and familiar, it’s reserved for you, baby animals, and her dad fussing over his plants.
You lean down and kiss her. Sweetly at first, and then deep and intimate. You hope she can feel your eight years of dumb, unnecessary yearning in the way you press your lips to hers. She lovingly cradles your face. Her breath is hot on your skin; it smells of pepperoni pizza, chocolate cake, and mint. You lick her front teeth.
“Easy, freakazoid.” She chuckles.
You worm your hand under her T-shirt. “Can we have sex?”
“What, right now?” she asks, amazed.
“Yes.”
“You’re unreal!” She laughs delightfully. “Later, okay? Preferably not with Hinata in the next room.”
You, uh, kinda forgot about Shouko. You see Kuroo’s point, but…
“I’m sure she’s asleep already.”
“Uh-huh. Nice try, Kyanma.”
Ugh. Whatever. You lay your head back on Kuroo’s chest, folding yourself around her like an octopus. Or one of those clinging monkey toys. Your hand stays under her T-shirt, though, splayed over her ribs.
It’s perfect. You might be the most content person in the world right now. She strokes your hair. You’re ready to go back to sleep, hoping to stay like this forever, or go to sleep and wake up with Kuroo forever, at least. But then you remember.
You bury your face in her T-shirt. “I don’t wantyoutomvhmph.”
“What was that?” Kuroo asks.
“I don’t want you to move out,” you say, looking up at her chin. Your eyes cross.
“I had a feeling.” Kuroo sighs. “Okay. I only have like a month of classes left anyway. We’ll figure something out.”
Cool. Now you can go back to sleep.
You feel Kuroo reach for her phone with one hand. She unlocks it and starts typing something.
“Are you texting Bokuto?”
“Hell yeah I’m texting Bokuto.”
“He’s gonna tell Akaashi.”
“Obviously,” she says. Then looks at you. “Wait. Is this why you’ve been so weird around Akaashi lately?”
“I haven’t,” you lie, then immediately contradict yourself, “she’s been onto me for months.”
“‘Onto you’?” Kuroo guffaws, drops her phone. “My little secretive Kyanma! Keeper of secrets.” She squeezes you and rolls you over. You get your own hair in your mouth. “I love you,” she says, leaning close to your face. “Love-love-love you. Don’t worry, I’ll tell her to spare you the embarrassment. She won’t bring it up. So polite, our Keiko-chan.”
“Whatever.” You frown, settling into Kuroo’s embrace. Then add, quietly, “I, too. You. Love you, I mean.”
“Hm. I know that, don’t I?” Kuroo smirks and gives you a wet kiss on the cheek. You wipe it on her own cheek and lick her nose.
You glad she does. It’s all you ever wanted, really.