Archive of Our Own ^beta

The cherry blossoms aren’t in full bloom yet although the weather has been quite warm. A gentle wind passes through the schoolyard, and Kenma hears someone whine how it’s way too cold to take pictures outside.

The graduation ceremony just ended and there are many groups of students gathered on the schoolyard, rolled up diplomas in their hands, taking their last informal pictures in front of the school buildings before heading back inside. The graduating third years are meeting up in their homerooms one last time, ready to say goodbyes to their classmates and other students in their after-school clubs, but Kenma doesn’t bother running between classrooms.

He gets his bag, starts up a game on his phone and walks against the stream of people in the corridors, heading to gymnasium 2.

The volleyball team hasn’t planned on meeting there because they don’t have practice that day. The third years have already played their last game with the team, and the rest of them will keep on training until the new academic year starts and they need to regroup with new first year students interested in the team. Because they don’t have any matches scheduled for the next couple of weeks, practice shouldn’t get too intense, and Kenma is grateful for that.

True, Kenma started to find volleyball actually fun during his second year of high school, but he still has his limits.

Although the team isn’t supposed to have practice, moment after Kenma has sat down on the gym’s cold floor, Yamamoto and Fukunaga arrive. Kenma greets them with a nod, his attention on the mobile game. Fukunaga sits next to him and peeks over his shoulder to see the screen of his phone. Kenma beats a level and Fukunaga gives him a thumbs up.

The first years come in as a huge, chattering group, Inuoka playing with a battered up volleyball. He and Lev start some kind of one-on-one receive and spiking practice in the empty gym while the rest of the first years join the second years. They sit down in a semi-circle just like they always do when they gather together before training sessions.

Kenma doesn’t really listen when Shibayama and Yamamoto bond over getting bad scores from their latest English pop quizzes even though he never does well in them either (their English teacher seems to love pop quizzes, and the students collectively hate them), and he raises his gaze from his phone only when he hears familiar voices outside the gym.

Yaku, Kai and Kuroo come in the gym together, somewhat surprised that the rest of the volleyball team is already there. They’re carrying their rolled-up diplomas in their hands, and Kenma swears he sees Yaku’s eyes glistening under the gym’s harsh lighting.

“You all know we don’t have practice today, right?” Kai asks, laughing when everybody nods in unison. Yaku shakes his head in disbelief, but instead of scolding them he just gives them a wide smile.

“Well,” Kuroo says, looking at his former teammates. Inuoka and Lev joined the semi-circle when the third years came in, and Kuroo makes sure to meet eyes with everyone. The third years already gave a long, motivational speech during the team’s first practice after losing in nationals, so no one really expects them to say anything more. Kuroo handed over his title as the team’s captain to Yamamoto earlier as well (Kenma is supposed to become the vice-captain, but he’s planning on having one more talk about it with Fukunaga), and they don’t actually even have a permission to be in the gym.

“Well?” Yaku prompts, and laughs when Kuroo swats him with his diploma.

“Well,” Kuroo starts again, “it’s been fun playing with you guys, I’m sure all three of us can agree on that. Other teams think Nekoma is a nuisance to play against, so keep on practicing your receives and don’t let them change their mind. We’ll definitely come to your games so don’t slack off, okay?”

Kuroo proudly crosses his arms over his chest when the team loudly promises the third years they’ll definitely work hard, and that’s when Kenma notices the jacket of Kuroo’s school uniform is missing its second button from the top.

Kenma doesn’t know why the sight of a missing button makes his chest suddenly feel tight and empty at the same time - the feeling is similar to what he gets when he misses a step and almost falls over when going down the stairs. He manages to calm down the frantic beating of his heart, but it bouncing against his hollow rib cage still hurts more than it should.

Of course Kenma knows what the missing button means: a graduating third year is supposed to give the second button - the one closest to the heart - from their uniform to the person they have feelings for as a way of confession. It’s stupid, and made for those binging on dumb romance dramas, yet for some reason the empty space on Kuroo’s jacket makes Kenma feel painfully lonely.

Kenma has no idea who Kuroo could have given the button to. He knows his best friend is popular, he’s good looking and athletic. However, Kuroo hasn’t mentioned being interested in anyone, and even though Kenma knows the telltale signs people often show when they have a crush on someone, he hasn’t noticed any of them in Kuroo.

It’s just a button, Kenma reminds himself. Knowing Kuroo, he could have given it away as a joke too. Kenma wants to slap himself for getting so worked up over such a stupid thing, so he just tears his eyes away from Kuroo’s jacket and stands up when the team starts getting ready to leave.

The thing is, if Kenma had to give his button to someone, he’d give it to Kuroo without any second thoughts. He can’t really explain his own feelings even to himself (he has tried it many, many times in the past), but whatever it is that Kuroo makes him feel, he definitely has never felt the same towards anyone else. A part of Kenma blames it on growing up together and how Kuroo always had his back, a part of him calmly acknowledges the hollowness swallowing him whenever he thinks of Kuroo choosing someone over him.

It’s not a crush, not exactly. Kuroo’s presence makes Kenma feel safe, almost like he was home under the blankets playing one of his favorite games. To Kenma, existing is easier when Kuroo is around.

“Don’t waste the day! You all have classes tomorrow, after all,” Yaku reminds them before leaving with Kai and Lev, the rest of the team waving them off. Kuroo and Kenma bid their goodbyes too as they leave the schoolyard, walking back home together one last time.

Kenma tries not to think it as their last walk home although he knows that from tomorrow on he has to make the trip alone. The entrance exam results came back just a few days ago, and Kuroo would move to Kyoto to study medicine. Kenma knows it’s been Kuroo’s dream for years, so he refuses to be sad about it.

He still feels awfully lonely, and a glance at the empty button space on Kuroo’s jacket only makes it all worse.

“So weird that I won’t be coming back tomorrow,” Kuroo says after a moment of silence between them. It’s barely noon, and the streets are fairly empty. White petals from the blooming apple trees dance in the chilly spring breeze, and when they walk past the tiny convenience store they’d often buy after-school snacks from, the owner washing the windows greets them cheerfully.

“Yeah,” Kenma agrees, his eyes on the pavement.

“Are you gonna miss playing volleyball with me?” Kuroo teases, and Kenma really needs to fight against the urge to tell his best friend just how much he will miss him.

“Not really,” he says instead.

“I’m hurt,” Kuroo says, but there’s a smile on his lips.

“We can play when you come for a visit,” Kenma says, and Kuroo agrees with him. “Are you gonna join the university’s team?”

“I don’t know,” Kuroo says with a shrug, looking up at the cloudless sky. “Volleyball is fun, but nothing can beat Nekoma.”

“Except Karasuno, apparently. And Fukuroud-”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“I know,” Kenma admits, accepting the soft smile Kuroo gives him.

A comfortable silence falls between them, but Kenma feels fidgety. He almost gets his phone out of his pocket to start a new game, but when Kuroo starts whistling an upbeat song they heard on the radio some time ago, Kenma decides his game can wait.

“You’re missing a button.”

“Huh?”

Kenma stops and grabs the hem of Kuroo’s jacket, showing the empty space on it. “A button.”

“Ah, yeah,” Kuroo says with a small laugh. He looks both embarrassed and nervous when he puts his hand into the pocket of his pants and pulls out a dark-blue button. “It’s here.”

“You didn’t give it to someone,” Kenma says although it’s very obvious Kuroo didn’t give the button away, since it’s right there. The hole in Kenma’s chest doesn’t feel so hollow anymore, and he mentally scolds himself for feeling so relieved.

“No,” Kuroo agrees. He takes Kenma’s hand and gently places the button in the middle of the setter’s palm, a teasing smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. “I wanted to save it for someone special.”

Kenma looks at the button, then up at Kuroo and blinks. Kuroo can’t stand his surprised stare and he turns away, mumbling something about hurrying up and getting home. Kenma doesn’t follow him, not just yet - he holds the button up against the sunlight and smiles at it, knowing it’ll fit perfectly in the empty space in his chest.