Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The invitation comes in a sealed white envelope made out of scented paper, shoved into the metal mailbox by Kenma’s front door along with his usual shipment of fan mail and monthly utility bills. Kenma had almost dismissed it as another fan letter had it not caught his eye at the right moment, making him pause as he shuffled through the envelopes to inspect it closer. It isn’t the iridescent patterns on the paper that gives Kenma pause, nor the faint lingering scent of roses, not even the red wax seal with a volleyball on it. 

It’s the names.

The envelope is addressed to Kozume Kenma and Kuroo Tetsurou from Hinata Shouyou and Kageyama Tobio.

Kenma stands halfway through the door, staring at the name written after his. A strong breeze blows in from the outside, bringing with it the scent of freshly-laundered clothes drying in the summer heat and the incessant buzzing of cicadas, but Kenma hardly gives it any thought. He closes the door behind him and checks the address to confirm that it is indeed his home address, then finds his eyes going back to that name again. 

Kuroo Tetsurou.

Kenma swallows and walks to his study, dumping the rest of the envelopes onto his growing pile of fan mail before grabbing his letter opener and neatly ripping the envelope open. Out onto his waiting hand drops a white card with the same rosy fragrance, and again, that same name stares back at him, standing out like a neon sign. To Kozume Kenma-san and Kuroo Tetsurou-san.

Their names, side by side.

Kenma unfolds the card and skims through the invitation, vaguely registering the fact that Hinata and Kageyama are getting married in Sendai in the fall before he reaches inside the envelope and finds the RSVP card for the reception. With a sigh, Kenma sinks down into his swiveling den chair and stares at the cards in his hands, letting the envelope flutter down to the floor. He can’t seem to leave that other name alone.

Kuroo Tetsurou.

Who is Kuroo Tetsurou?

Kuroo Tetsurou was a lot of things to Kenma. To say that he had only been a teammate or a friend was understating just how much of an influence Kuroo Tetsurou had on Kozume Kenma’s life. 

Kuroo Tetsurou was a childhood friend who had moved next door when they were kids; who had been shy and quiet up until he had introduced Kenma to volleyball, after which he was nothing but loud and brash and outgoing, always making sure that he and Kenma returned home bruised and dirty and aching, but somehow still grinning and laughing through it all.

He had been a teammate who was so much more social than him; so much more magnetic and charismatic, enough to even convince the nerdy and reticent Kenma to take volleyball seriously, to become his team’s brain and to play a game that didn’t involve pressing buttons and staring at backlit screens.

He was a captain with more than enough conviction to carry his entire team to nationals; who pushed not only his allies but his opponents to be at their best and made his final match as captain one that Kenma would never forget.

And he had been so much more. He had been a best friend who knew Kenma better than Kenma did himself; who scolded him when he stayed up too late playing video games again; who sneaked him bigger portions of food from his own bento when he noticed that Kenma wasn’t eating a lot; who stood up for Kenma when other people underestimated his ability or talked smack about him behind his back; who eagerly pointed out the most minuscule changes in Kenma’s expressions, much to Kenma’s embarrassment, and could easily tell what each one, however subtle, meant. 

And he had been Kenma’s first kiss, shy and awkward and much too eager and wet for his liking but life-changing and magical all at the same time. The first time he had ever gone out with someone for an actual date, both of them acting like bashful schoolgirls as they tried to hide their interlaced hands in the darkness of the movie theatre, jumping and blushing whenever they got too close or met eyes across a table, talking and acting like the best friends they still were for the most part but with a whole new layer to their relationship that they couldn’t wait to explore. 

He had been Kenma’s first time even. Well, not really. Kenma didn’t really like to count the very first time because neither of them really knew what they were doing, even if Kuroo liked to pretend that he did. They fumbled and groped around awkwardly one hot summer day in Kenma’s room while his parents were out, and whatever pleasure he had gotten from it was short-lived and frankly disappointing. Still, they eventually learned, and when it did happen properly, Kenma remembers holding on to Kuroo’s warmth and feeling glad that it was Kuroo who was holding him and not someone else.

He gave away a lot of his firsts to Kuroo Tetsurou. He’d spent his first Christmas and New Years without his family at the Kuroo household, though he and Kuroo spent most of their time up in the privacy of Kuroo’s room. It did little to deter Kuroo’s dad from checking up on them every once in a while, enough times that the both of them suspected that he was just making sure they weren’t “messing around” right above his head, as he liked to call it. 

The first time Kenma had attempted to cook for someone had been for Kuroo, though the result wasn’t really good. Still, he appreciated Kuroo finishing the food anyway despite admitting that it was bad. 

Kenma remembers staring intently at Kuroo while he slept, watching his drooling face after they had moved all of Kuroo’s stuff into his new apartment before he started college. As Kenma listened to his incessant snoring, he thought to himself that even though it was annoying and was starting to become a nightly problem, maybe he could put up with it every day for the rest of his life, and it had been the first time he’d ever even thought of sharing a future with someone else. 

So, who is Kuroo Tetsurou?

Well, Kuroo Tetsurou is his ex.

His first one, in fact. Just another first that Kuroo had to take along with the rest.

He was the first time Kenma had ever declared to someone else that they were over, not even in person but over the phone, so he couldn’t see his face but only hear the heartbreak in his words, the hollow laughter, the grating and final sound of the hang up tone afterwards; the first time he could remember crying over someone as hard as he did, remembering the days he couldn’t even crawl out of bed, even long after the tears had dried and he could no longer think of reasons to excuse his absence from the rest of the world; the first time he could listen to those sad sappy songs about lost love and disappointments and actually feel the ache that they sang about in their high lilting voices and fanciful words; the first time he had felt an anger so strong and so potent that he actually felt like throwing things, actually felt like breaking all of his stuff with little to no thought of the consequences, though of course he never did.

And then, once all the anger and the initial bouts of pain were gone, all he could feel was a vague sort of emptiness, a kind of neutrality, a hollow acceptance that things were going to be a lot different now than they were before; that for the first time since they met, the name Kuroo Tetsurou was never going to mean the same thing to him again. 

It all starts and ends with the name that stares back at him on the stark white paper, so neatly arranged beside his own name. And Kenma’s heart sinks as he realizes that Shouyo doesn’t know. 

The fact that he had sent the envelope to Kenma’s address but had included both Kenma’s and Kuroo’s names on it meant that he thought that Kuroo would be with him; that he was certain that even though Kuroo didn’t live with him, that it would still reach him if it reached Kenma.

Kenma picks up the single RSVP card and grabs a pen. He lays the card down on the table and gets closely acquainted with the ‘Attending’ and ‘Not Attending’ characters on the card, tapping his pen against the table as he stares holes into it.

He’s going. He knows he should. 

It’s Shouyo after all, and he can definitely afford the steep fees that usually come with wedding invitations, and then some as his own personal gift to the couple. He’s not really one for parties and other large gatherings with other people, most of them probably strangers to him, but he could always leave early if he ever gets tired of it. Besides, he’s not the same shy antisocial kid he had been in high school. Although the anxiety never truly left him, Kenma can handle himself fine in a room full of strangers. He wouldn’t have gotten very far with his current job if he didn’t. And the fact that Shouyo is inviting him and Kuroo points to the possibility of him having invited the rest of the old Nekoma team as well and Kenma finds a bit of relief at that.

But the thought of his old high school teammates brings him back to the matter at hand which is, of course, the other name that is obviously not his own on the envelope and on the invitation card.

Is this meant to be a package deal? If he says that he’s attending, would Hinata and Kageyama assume that Kuroo would be in attendance too? It is, after all, addressed to the both of them and couples usually attend these kinds of events together if they’re both invited. 

Would it be rude of them to go separately, or would it be ruder to show up together when they aren’t? Because they aren’t a couple. Not anymore. Kenma could hardly even remember the last time they had spoken to each other since their break up. Were they still friends even after that? Could Kenma still call Kuroo his best friend despite it all?

“You’re overthinking this,” Kenma says to himself, scowling. “Just tell Shouyo that you broke up.”

But even as he reaches for his phone, even as he scrolls through his go-to messaging app to find Shouyo’s name, something makes Kenma hesitate, makes him hover his thumb over the text box and then makes him exit out of their conversation entirely. 

Something makes him bring up Kuroo’s contact info instead, makes him stare at the chat nickname that neither of them had bothered to change (“Kuro,” the way he had always called him back when they were kids,) and makes him look at the last message he had ever sent him even as his stomach churns at the sight of it. 

We need to talk. Seen 10:23 PM, 12/22/18.

There had been no reply.

The realization that it’s been four years since they last spoke to each other hits Kenma like a tidal wave, washing away whatever resolve had been building up inside him. 

Four years . When they used to see each other at school and during practice everyday. When his phone used to blow up with messages from Kuroo all the time, ranging from simple greetings in the morning and the evening to existential questions in the middle of the night. When communication used to be so easy, words much less difficult to find, awkwardness and tension nonexistent in every word they ever sent. 

Kenma doesn’t even know if Kuroo still checks this account, or if he’s changed his number or his home address, or if he’s still even the same person he had been four years ago. Plenty can change in four years, Kenma knows all too well, and he’s not sure he wants to know just how much has changed in the time after he and Kuroo broke up. 

What can he even say now, when he decides to break the silence?

Hey, so our mutual friends, Hinata Shouyo and Kageyama Tobio, I’m sure you’ve heard of them, have invited the both of us to their wedding reception thinking that we’re still together and I’m letting you know now so I can send their RSVP card back with your answer and let them and all our other mutual friends know that we’re no longer together and that if we both decide to attend, that we will not be attending it as a couple but as independent individuals. Thanks.

He knows that it sounds ridiculous and maybe a bit too passive-aggressive, but he types it out anyway, thinking that it could serve as a draft or the bare bones to base his actual message off of. He looks it over once, then twice, then three times just to be sure, before he realizes that he can’t think of a nicer and less passive-aggressive way to word it and deletes the entire paragraph.

“Stupid,” Kenma mutters. He sighs, puts his phone down on the desk and buries his face in his arms. He stays that way for a few minutes until his phone rings, vibrating on his desktop. Kenma jumps in his seat and spends a couple seconds staring at his phone from his chair. His first instinct tells him that Kuroo must be calling him, that he must have sensed that Kenma was thinking of him, and his mind races with things to say, things that wouldn’t sound like he really had just been thinking about him, even as he reasons with himself that it can’t possibly be him. 

Kenma closes his eyes and breaths in once and then twice before grabbing his phone from his desk and looking at the screen. The breath that he didn’t realize he had been holding leaves him in relief when he sees that it’s just a call from work and he can’t remember ever feeling this glad to see it.

He takes the opportunity for the distraction, answering the call as he rises from his chair, leaving the invitation on the desk to be looked at another time, preferably when he’s a bit more clear-headed and less sentimental. 

Kenma counts himself lucky that he actually has other more pressing matters to deal with, not only because of the convenient excuse it provides but also because it helps him take his mind off the rose-scented invitation in his study and the blank RSVP card still waiting to be answered. Kenma knows he’s going to have to confront it eventually, but it’s a sweltering mid-June day, whereas the wedding isn’t set to occur till fall when the days would preferably be a lot cooler, and oh he has that meeting later with the supplier for Bouncing Ball, and he has a couple of playthroughs his followers have been clamoring for him to continue, and there’s that sponsored video for a new mobile game that he has to film before next week.

Kenma doesn’t forget about the invitation, but rather conveniently puts it out of his mind for the time being. As the saying goes - out of sight, out of mind. And it works, for the most part.

But soon his study starts to smell like roses more and more each day, which would be pleasant if it didn’t remind him of the invitation sitting on his desk like a grim harbinger of bad news every time he entered the room, like a telegram that was going to tell him that his husband had perished in the war. Kenma could just imagine an ominous purple aura surrounding it, filled with dread and negativity. 

Five days since the invitation first arrived in his mailbox, Kenma gets out of that meeting with the supplier earlier than he had been hoping and confronted by free time that he couldn’t think of other ways to spend, he sits down at his desk and tells himself, this time. This time, for sure , he’s going to call Shouyo. Explain the whole mess. Tell him that he and Kuroo won’t be attending as a couple but as individuals having moved on from their shared past and now happily living independently from each other. 

Kenma brings up Shouyo’s contact info and hovers his thumb over the call button. A second passes. Two. Kenma counts down to three before he puts his phone down and sighs, hands coming up to rub at his temples.

He takes a few deep breaths, tries telling himself that it’s only a phone call with one of his good friends. There’s nothing he should be scared of, but that of course only makes him wonder, what is he scared of?

It wouldn’t be like Shouyo to get upset about news like that. Sure, he’d probably be upset for him or feel bad for him, but it’s not like he’s going to go ballistic and call off the whole wedding just because Kenma doesn’t have a date to attend it with. Why in the world would Shouyo even be angry with him? He has nothing to be angry about. If anything, he’d probably be more embarrassed of his assumptions than angry. But even then, Kenma knows it’s not really something he should be this worried about, not when he’s only trying to save his friend from further embarrassment. 

“See? You’re being unreasonable,” he says to himself and picks up his phone, only to spend another minute staring at the screen till it automatically shuts off, leaving him with a rather unflattering reflection of his face, brows knit together in consternation and visible lines under his eyes. He unlocks the phone again and squints at the screen, as if he could telepathically communicate with Shouyo instead, but gives up after he can’t bring himself to hit call after more than one minute.

Kenma pockets his phone and leaves his study with a defeated sigh, thinking of playing a video game to get his mind off of things and make him feel less guilty, when his phone rings and he nearly jumps a foot into the air.

Kenma’s eyes widen in surprise when he sees Shouyo’s name and he panics, wondering if maybe he had hit call by accident or if that attempt at telepathy had actually worked. But then his phone just keeps on ringing with increased urgency until Kenma draws in a long breath and answers.

“H-Hello?”

“Ah, hey Kenma!” comes Shouyo’s bright voice, so loud and full of energy that it makes Kenma feel as if he’s in the room with him just within arms reach. 

“Shouyo. Hi,” Kenma says haltingly, pacing the hallway between his study and his living room. “What’s up?”

“Didja get our invitation in the mail yet?”

Kenma’s heart skips a beat. He pauses, the impulse to lie rising to the forefront, but he pushes it down and forces himself to say, “Yes, I have.”

“Oh thank god!” Shouyo says. “Sorry for calling you without warning first. I just wanted to check if all the invitations got to everyone on time. I’ve been checking up on nearly everyone I know since last week. You won’t believe how many people that actually is. Even I’m surprised and I thought of this list!”

Kenma chuckles, calming down as he settles into easy conversation with Shouyo. “It’s okay. And congratulations. I’m really happy for you and Kageyama.”

“Aw, thanks!” Shouyo laughs on the other line. “Tobio was waiting till the Olympics were over to propose so he could focus on one thing at a time. Also because our jerseys were already done and he didn’t want there to be another Kageyama on the court. Although after this, he’s just gonna have to deal with it.” He gives another laugh. 

Kenma hums as he walks into his living room and sits on his couch. “So you’re taking his last name then?”

“Yup!” Shouyo answers. “Hinata Tobio just doesn’t have that same ‘ uwaaah ’ kinda feeling as Kageyama Shouyo, you know?”

Kenma chuckles. “Nice to see that your way of describing things hasn’t changed one bit. Who else have you invited?”

“Oh I invited the rest of the old Nekoma team that we played against in our first year. Or your second year in your case. Some of them have already sent their RSVPs and it looks like most of them are going. Speaking of which, are Yaku-san and Lev still out of the country? ‘Cause it’s been a bit hard to reach them.”

“Yeah, I think you might want to email them just in case. They get a lot of work abroad so their schedules might be hard to work around.”

“I was afraid of that. Ah but I’m getting ahead of myself! Has Kuroo-san seen the invitation yet?”

Kenma freezes, the pleasant atmosphere his conversation with Shouyo had lulled him into shattering in an instant. He swallows. “I一” he begins, stops, then begins again. “I haven’t had the chance to show him.” Not entirely a lie. 

“Oh, why not? I thought you two lived together. Or is that just my assumption?”

“No, we don’t live together.” Not a lie either. “Kuro has his own place closer to where he works.” It takes him a second to realize that he had used his old nickname for Kuroo but he doesn’t have the time to dwell on it before he hears Hinata hum on the other line.

“But you two still see each other, right?”

Kenma draws in a breath through gritted teeth. “It’s...been a while.” A while being four years. Also not a lie.

“Ehhh,” Shouyo says. “How come? Ah wait, don’t tell me, you two are probably just really busy huh. Must be rough having jobs like yours.”

There’s a lull in the conversation. Say it , Kenma tells himself. This is the perfect opportunity. Just tell him. 

“Yes,” Kenma responds, so quick that it definitely sounds like he’s hiding something. “I’ve just been really busy, and so has he.” As soon as the words are out of his mouth, Kenma feels like digging a hole and burying himself alive. “Though you’re one to talk. I don’t envy yours and Kageyama’s jobs at all,” he adds in a last second attempt to change the subject. “Even just thinking of how you guys manage to keep the media and your fans from prying too much into your personal affairs gives me a headache.”

Shouyo chuckles. “Oh Kodzuken himself wants to talk about our fans being too nosy? Have you seen all the forums and twitter threads dedicated to uncovering your hidden personal life?”

Kenma gives a small sigh of relief at Shouyo taking the bait and tries to conceal it with a small laugh. “Okay, I get it. Though if you guys ever have to leak information about me, at least let it be my embarrassingly high leaderboard scores on Smash.”

Shouyo laughs at that. “Got it. Just make sure you two send in the RSVP by the end of this month! We need to know how many out of town guests are gonna be needing a hotel room by then.”

“Got it,” Kenma says. “I’ll be sure to let Kuro know.”

“I really hope you two can make it,” Shouyo says. “It’d mean a lot to us if you could.”

Kenma tries to swallow past the lump forming in his throat. “Yeah,” he just barely lets out, “I’ll check our schedules and I’ll let you know if I一 I mean, we can make it.”

“Cool!” Shouyo says and Kenma can already picture the big and happy grin on his face. “We’ll be seeing you then! Oh, Tobio says hi by the way!”

Kenma smiles. “Tell him I said hi back.”

Then Shouyo hangs up and Kenma sits there alone in his living room, wondering just what the hell he’s gotten himself into. 

*****

The idea comes to him a few days after Shouyo’s call, as he’s lounging in his home theatre watching whatever teen drama was airing on TV, taking a break from a long day of using his brain to relax into the familiar formula of a high school love triangle. As the main girl desperately chooses between the wise-cracking guy next door and the silent and mysterious exchange student, the idea clicks into Kenma’s head like a light switch being flipped on and he freezes with a fistful of popcorn halfway to his mouth, eyes going wide and thoughts racing with possibilities. 

It’s a stupid idea and he knows it. There are so many things that could go wrong and he knows it’s going to be a lot of work. The rational part of him tells him not to do it, that something like this is never worth all the trouble. But the irrational side of him, the one he is surprised to find is winning, tells him that it might just work. And by the time the heroine of the movie realizes that she has feelings for her neighbor after all and goes to chase after him at the airport before he leaves for a foreign country, it doesn’t become a question of if to Kenma, but a question of how.

Kenma doesn’t get to see how the movie ends or who the girl really ends up with before he decides that he’s had enough and shuts the TV off. Never mind that there’s only about ten minutes of the movie left, or that he had actually been invested in the story for most of it. 

Right now, Kenma can’t stop thinking about the idea that’s been shaping itself in his head for the past half hour. He walks out of his home theatre, dumps the empty bowl of popcorn in the sink to be washed the next day, makes himself a cup of coffee, then sits at the kitchen table with the mug between his hands, staring down at its dark brown contents as he turns the idea over and over in his mind. 

He hesitates of course, because he wouldn’t be Kenma if he didn’t think this through first. There’s plenty of risks involved, least of which is having to actually 一 well, talk to Kuroo about it. But it’s strange. Where before it was agonizing to even think about sending him a message, now Kenma is filled with the determination to do it. He wants to do it, if only to give him an excuse to see him again.

And he realizes that’s it.

He wants to see him again.

Even if they’re no longer friends, even if things are awkward, he wants to see Kuroo again.

Or maybe it’s just the lingering feeling of fluff and sentimentality from the movie earlier, combined with the caffeine he’s just had.

There’s a very big chance that he’s going to end up regretting this, or that this is all nothing but a caffeine-fueled impulse that doesn’t really reflect what he truly thinks or feels. Maybe he won’t even go through with it, or his plans might fall apart before they even come to fruition. Maybe he should wait until the caffeine and whatever sentimental ideas the movie had planted in his head has left his system and sleep on it for good measure. Maybe it’s for the best that he doesn’t act on anything at all.

But the desire from earlier is still egging him on. He can almost hear it like a high annoying voice in his head daring him to do what it wants him to do just to prove that he’s not a coward.

And it’s what eventually compels him to open up Kuroo’s saved contact info on his phone, hoping that it had remained unchanged. Maybe it is the weird adrenaline from the movie that’s driving him forward this time and making him feel bolder than he usually is because there’s none of the hesitation he had when he had been calling Shouyo. He hits call immediately, bringing his phone up to his ear before he has any time to regret it. His heart jumps in his chest when he hears the first dial beep and he clenches his fist around the handle of his mug, feeling like he could smash the delicate porcelain in one squeeze. 

Whatever had emboldened him at the start disappears as soon as he hears the click that tells him that the call’s been picked up. At first there’s silence as Kenma holds his breath, as he hears nothing but white noise on the other end, unable to place where Kuroo could be. 

And then finally, there’s a voice.

“Hello?”

It’s low and tentative, careful yet steady, and Kenma tenses up at the familiarity of that deep voice, at the way it sends a shiver down his spine still.

Kenma swallows thickly. “Hey.” God, he hopes he doesn’t sound nervous.

There’s a pause. “Hey,” comes the response. Clipped. Polite. But not exactly friendly.

Kenma’s heart sinks. “Is...this a bad time?”

“Well,” Kuroo sighs, “it’s as good a time as any I guess. Why一” He stops himself then sighs again. He sounds tired, like he’s just gotten out of work, and Kenma feels a pang of guilt. “What’s this all about, all of a sudden?”

Kenma draws in a long breath, trying to calm the erratic beating of his heart. “I was...I was actually wondering...if I could talk to you? In person?” He adds quickly.

There’s silence on the other line. “What, like...right now?”

“Not right now,” Kenma says in a rush. “I...I can work with your schedule. Whenever you’re free.”

“Whenever I’m free huh,” Kuroo muses on the other line. “I’m not quite sure when that’ll be, kitten.”

Kenma freezes and judging by the long silence on the other side, Kuroo has as well. ‘Kitten’ was Kenma’s nickname, one that has always been used exclusively by Kuroo, especially when they had been together. But the name just sounds bitter to him now. 

“Sorry,” Kuroo says quickly, trying to brush it off with a laugh. “Just slipped out and everything. Wasn’t thinking.”

Kenma shakes his head. “It’s okay. So, uhh...when do you think you’ll be free?”

Kuroo hums. “Tell you what, how ‘bout this Saturday at four? I’ll make time for you then.”

Kenma nods. “Can we...meet somewhere?”

“There’s this nice little cafe not far from where you live,” Kuroo responds. “I’ll send you the details after this. They serve a real good apple pie. I get the feeling that you’re going to like it there. Not a lot of people, cozy tables away from prying eyes. If whatever you want to talk about turns out to be long, might as well do it somewhere comfortable.”

Kenma’s heart does a backflip at the possibility that Kuroo not only remembers his favorite food but his specific preferences. “Then it’s a date.” A pause. “Not一Not in that way of course! I...I really just...want to talk. About something.”

A small breath of laughter. “All right. I’ll see you then.”

And then it’s over and Kenma watches as their conversation is updated for the first time in more than a year with directions to a cafe he’s never been to. He puts his phone down on the table then sits back with the mug of coffee in his hands, staring down at it in disbelief, thinking for a moment that it didn’t just happen.

He doesn’t know how long he sits there just staring down at the table but his heart is still beating frantically long after the phone call has ended. Or maybe it’s the caffeine. Probably the caffeine. Kenma drains the last of the coffee into his mouth before placing the mug in the sink with the bowl. 

As he collapses into his bed, he replays the conversation over and over again, picking apart every word he’s said, wondering if maybe he should have said something else instead, and screaming at himself for stuttering and pausing too much in between his words. 

And then it all starts to sink in, the reality of just what it is he’s planning on doing and what he’s roping Kuroo into doing with him, and the first signs of regret and anxiety begin to weigh on him. 

But what’s done is done and Kenma knows that there’s no backing out of this now. He marks Saturday four o’clock on his phone calendar, making sure to set an alarm two hours before the meeting time so he has time to get ready and commute, and then he’s staring once more at their recent conversation, at the name he hadn’t been expecting to see again days ago.

Kuroo Tetsurou.

“Kuro,” Kenma breathes into the silence of his empty bedroom and he says it like he’s saying a spell, like he’s willing something into shape, and maybe he is. He closes his eyes and tries to picture him as he had been years ago, pictures his broad shoulders and his tall limbs, his messy bedhead and the ever-present sly grin on his face. And he remembers the way he had said ‘kitten’ in their earlier conversation so casually, so naturally, as if he had never stopped calling Kenma that, and it’s frightening how much of an effect that simple nickname has on Kenma even after all this time.

There’s a sharp sting to the picture of Kuroo Kenma conjures in his head. More like a memory really. Any thought of Kuroo since their break up is always accompanied by that sting, by that dull ache in his chest that tells him that maybe he isn’t quite over it just yet despite all the years in between. Sure, the pain has lessened and isn’t as sharp as it used to be, but it’s still there nonetheless, like an old bullet wound where the bullet hasn’t entirely been removed and smarts every once in a while to make sure that Kenma never forgets.

But now there isn’t just the ache of an old wound. Now there’s an undercurrent of anticipation, an anxious blur of emotions that is both terrifying and exciting to Kenma. 

Or maybe that’s just the caffeine talking.

Kenma groans and buries his face in his pillow. “What have I just gotten myself into?” he murmurs as he prepares himself for a long night.

****

The last box has been moved into the house and the dust motes float in the red-orange light of the sunset coming in from the open shoji doors as Kuroo collapses into the sofa beside Kenma, wiping the sweat off his brow. He leans against Kenma with a sigh and Kenma keeps his gaze locked on his phone screen as he subtly shifts to accommodate Kuroo’s weight.

“That should be the last of ‘em,” Kuroo says and Kenma grunts in response. 

“You’re not planning on unpacking anytime soon, are you?” Kuroo looks down at Kenma with an amused glint in his eyes.

Kenma shrugs. “Just need my kotatsu and my futon for now. Ah.” Kenma looks up from his phone, eyes widening a fraction in realization. “I need to buy a bed too.” He turns to look at Kuroo. “You’re coming with me to buy the rest of the furniture, right?”

Kuroo chuckles and leans down to place a kiss on Kenma’s forehead. “How can I say no to that face?” 

Kenma grumbles and scowls as he wipes at the spot Kuroo had kissed. “Gross,” he says.

“Oi,” Kuroo snaps, though he can’t keep the fond smile from his face. “May I remind you that you agreed to go out with this gross idiot.”

“And I regret it every day.”

Kuroo scoffs. “You don’t actually mean that.” A pause. “Do you?” he adds, sounding a bit more worried now.

It’s Kenma’s turn to laugh, a short little breath of a chuckle as he faces Kuroo, eyes turning golden in the light of the sunset. “Who knows?”

Kuroo blinks, expression blank as he says, “You are evil.”

“You agreed to go out with someone this evil.”

Kuroo grins. “And I don’t regret it one bit, unlike some people.”

Kenma huffs and leans further into Kuroo, resting his back against Kuroo’s chest, feeling the thrum of it as Kuroo hums contentedly and rests his chin on the top of Kenma’s head. 

“I could get used to this,” Kuroo says as he stares out of the shoji doors to the small yard outside. “You really got a nice place.”

Kenma shrugs. “It’s all right I guess. At least I can have my own home theatre now. You should really move out of that tiny apartment and find your own place already.”

Kuroo scoffs. “Well excuse me but we can’t all be famous youtubers slash professional gamers slash CEOs now, can we?”

“You forgot stock trader.”

Kuroo snorts and pinches Kenma lightly on the arm. “Okay world-famous youtuber slash professional gamer slash CEO slash stock trader Kodzuken, we get it.”

Kenma chuckles and finally puts down his phone with a sigh, closing his eyes as he relaxes against Kuroo. “I could get used to this too.”

Above him, Kuroo makes a sound of contentment and Kenma finds himself dozing off in Kuroo’s arms, surrounded by his smell and the lingering scent of sweat on his skin. Kuroo is still as well, giving Kenma the impression that he’s falling asleep with him, and he lets himself bask in this single moment of peace and quiet in their otherwise hectic lives.

Then Kuroo’s phone starts ringing rather loudly in his pocket and Kenma shifts forward slightly, albeit begrudgingly, to allow Kuroo to reach for it. Kuroo glances at the screen for one second, sighs softly then tucks his phone back into the pocket of his jeans.

Kenma quirks an eyebrow at him. “Shouldn’t you get that?”

Kuroo shakes his head and reaches for Kenma again, wrapping his arms around his waist and pulling him back towards him. “It can wait.” He nuzzles his face into Kenma’s hair. “I want to stay with you for just a little longer.”

Kenma feels heat rush to his cheeks as he reclines against Kuroo once more but a tiny smile makes its way to his lips nonetheless and he closes his eyes and drifts off to sleep to the sound of Kuroo’s quiet steady breathing.

Every once in a while, their phones ping with new notifications but neither of them pay it any heed as dusk turns to twilight and the noise of summertime cicadas turn into crickets outside.

Chapter Text

The cafe Kuroo had been talking about turns out to be a little hole-in-the-wall with a modest exterior but a warm and cozy interior filled with homely decorations, reminding Kenma of his grandmother’s house but in a good way. The smell of baking bread hits him as soon as he’s past the door and his eyes gravitate towards the glass display case of cakes and pastries beside the counter, instantly honing in on the golden ridges and light brown filling of their apple pie.

Of course he orders a slice. How could he not, right after Kuroo had recommended it? Kuroo of all people knows how picky of an eater Kenma is, and when he thinks that Kenma will enjoy something, nine times out of ten Kenma does.

Kenma is the first to arrive, which doesn’t surprise him given that it’s still half an hour away from their agreed meeting time and he hates showing up late to anything, but his chest aches with familiarity at the fact. How many times had he been in a similar situation before, arriving somewhere bright and early only to later find out that Kuroo would be late, or just not show up at all? But Kenma pushes the thoughts and memories out of his head as he finds a small comfortable alcove towards the back and takes his seat.

That was then, this is now. 

Kenma bides his time playing a game on his Switch as he waits for Kuroo and his apple pie to arrive, taking in the easy and comfortable atmosphere of the little cafe as he does. It’s small but doesn’t look crowded at all. There are only a handful of other customers around at this time and apart from the slow bossa nova playing through the house speakers and the low muted murmur of the other patrons, it’s quiet and peaceful.

Kenma has to admit, Kuroo did well in picking out a place for them to meet up. It occurs to him then that maybe Kuroo had picked this place on purpose with Kenma’s particular tastes and preferences in mind. Something stirs in Kenma’s chest at the thought, something familiar but altogether embarrassing, and he’s saved from having to explore it any further by the arrival of his sweet apple pie. It’s good, definitely one of the best ones he’s ever had, and Kenma finds himself settling into a pleasant and comfortable mood as he plays his game and munches on his apple pie.

But very soon, four o’clock draws close and his plate’s been wiped clean. Only crumbs and smears of cinnamon and apple juice remain of his pie and Kenma considers ordering another slice or two if only to help distract him from the way his heart is beating frantically in his chest and the way his hand keeps reaching for his phone to obsessively check what time it is every few seconds. 

3:57 PM.

Time seems to slow to a crawl as Kenma anxiously peers at what little of the outside through the cafe windows he can see from his spot. There aren’t a lot of passersby but none of them look familiar. Even while he’s playing his game, his concentration slips and after his third loss in a row, Kenma sighs and admits defeat, closing out of the game and turning his Switch off before storing it in his crossbody bag.

And then there’s nothing left to do but wait as Kenma rests his elbows on the table and steeples his fingers together in front of him, staring off into space. He’s nervous. Of course he is. He’s about to see his (former?) best-friend-slash-ex in the flesh for the first time in four years after they broke up in less than amicable terms. He’s understandably terrified .

And yet, there is an undercurrent of anticipation that he can’t deny. There’s a kind of excitement beneath the nerves and the tension that is part of the reason why he keeps checking the time, why he jumps in his seat everytime he hears footsteps approaching or hears the bell above the cafe’s door jingle at the arrival and exit of every customer.

This was your idea , Kenma reminds himself and he wonders vaguely if it isn’t too late to back out now, to leave now and bail on Kuroo, but even in the nerve-addled state that he’s in, he knows that that would be too cruel. Not after the way things had ended between them.

The short grandfather clock in the cafe chimes the hour and Kenma flinches, his heart picking up pace in his chest. Suddenly everything is too hot, the once cozy space becoming claustrophobic to him as he wrings his sweaty hands together on the table. He doesn’t dare look up. What if he does and Kuroo’s there already? What if he sees Kuroo outside the cafe windows? What if they make awkward eye contact? What is he supposed to do when Kuroo does approach him? What if Kuroo doesn’t show up at all?

Suddenly, his phone starts vibrating on the table and Kenma jumps in his seat, startled by the sudden sound, too loud in the quiet space. His hands still as he stares back at Kuroo’s name on the screen. He hesitates for a second, drawing in a long breath to steady himself before he answers the call and brings it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” comes Kuroo’s voice on the other line. “You’re not there already, are you?”

“I am,” Kenma responds and there’s a sigh on the other line. 

A familiar feeling of dread settles in Kenma’s stomach. Kuroo’s going to say that he can’t make it, that he’s too busy, that he can’t find the time after all, and the familiar weight in his chest at the thought is almost enough to make him forget about his nervousness for a second.

“Hang on, I’m一” Kuroo stops and there’s a familiar jingling sound both on the other line and in Kenma’s near vicinity. Kenma holds his breath and looks up just as Kuroo enters his line of sight, his phone to his ear, dressed in a smart gray suit with a solid red tie, his hair still in that same messy ruffled up bedhead. 

“Where are you?” The Kuroo on the phone and the Kuroo in front of him says and Kenma is frozen, not even daring to blink as Kuroo turns and finally catches sight of him, his eyes widening when they finally alight on Kenma.

“Ah. Never mind.”

Kuroo lowers his phone and ends the call, Kenma doing the same as he watches Kuroo approach. They’re both not looking at each other, Kenma focusing on something over Kuroo’s shoulder while Kuroo steadfastly keeps his gaze on the floor in front of him as he walks over. 

And then there he is, standing in front of him as tall and broad-shouldered as he’s always been. Kenma’s eyes are immediately drawn to the three piece suit he’s wearing. He takes in the crooked tie, the sleek cut of his jacket, the slimming pinstripe vest underneath. So different from the frumpy track suit and frayed old t-shirt of their high school days. It’s both familiar and strange to Kenma and he thinks that Kuroo has no right showing up to something as casual as this looking that good when Kenma just looks lazy in comparison. 

Then Kuroo smiles at him and says, “Hey.”

Kenma blinks. “Hey,” he says, looking away and tucking a strand of hair self-consciously behind his ear, pretending that he wasn’t just staring. 

“May I?” Kuroo gestures at the empty seat across Kenma and Kenma nods. Kuroo sits down into the chair with a sigh and checks his wristwatch. He grins. “Right on time huh. Did you wait long?”

Kenma shakes his head, although he’s sure Kuroo can see the empty plate and half-empty glass of water in front of him. “Not really.”

“I see,” Kuroo says and he leans forward, placing both of his elbows on the table and his cheek in his hand, casual and cool and looking to all the world like he’s only catching up with a friend. “So how have you been?”

Kenma shrugs. “Okay, I guess.”

Kuroo scoffs and gives a playful grin. “You guess.”

Kenma shrugs again, still intent on not meeting his eyes. “I’ve been better.”

Kuroo hums. “Well, that’s better than nothing I guess.”

“How一How have you been?” Kenma says, supposing that it would be rude not to ask about Kuroo after.

Kuroo shrugs. “I’ve been better.”

And then it’s silent and it’s suffocating and Kenma wants to leave, wants to forget all about this stupid idea and just go home and play video games till he forgets all about this embarrassing mess. Suddenly the atmosphere is too quiet, the music in the cafe too soft, the conversations going on at the other tables not loud enough. Kenma’s hands wring themselves dry on the table and he sees the way Kuroo’s eyes track the movement.

“I see your hair’s gotten longer,” Kuroo muses and Kenma flinches, not expecting the topic of  conversation to turn to him.

“Oh,” he manages after a pause and he reaches up to tug at the ends, making sure not to pull too hard lest the top knot he had spent at least half an hour perfecting in front of the mirror come loose. “I know. It’s all over the place now.” 

Kuroo hums. “It’s nice. I like it.” He pauses. “It suits you.”

Kenma looks up at him then and can’t help but notice the faint blush on Kuroo’s cheeks. Kuroo looks away and clears his throat a little too loudly.

“Sooooo,” he drawls out, scratching the back of his neck and beginning to look a little nervous himself. “Now that the pleasantries are outta the way, should we address the elephant in the room then?”

“What elephant?” Kenma says in an impulse and immediately regrets saying as soon as it’s out of his mouth.

Kuroo looks at him with a sardonic smile. “Come on, you’re not that dumb. We haven’t spoken to each other in four years, not since we ended our relationship, and now out of the blue you want to talk to me about something?”

“Ah. That elephant.” Guess there’s no way out of it now . Kenma sighs and reaches into his bag. “Here.” He produces the wedding invitation in its envelope and wordlessly hands it over to Kuroo who takes it with a curious look. 

“This arrived at my place a few days ago,” Kenma explains, not meeting Kuroo’s eyes. “It...I guess it’ll explain everything when you read it.”

Kuroo hums and opens the envelope, taking out the card inside. His eyebrows raise when he sees the names on the front of the card and they seem to raise even higher as he reads through the card. When he’s done, he throws back his head and laughs. “No wonder Bokuto was asking me to go buy suits with him. And here I thought he was insulting my tastes when he said that I needed a new one.”

Kuroo tosses the card and the envelope onto the table between them. “So? What’re we gonna do?”

Kenma looks up and for once he holds Kuroo’s gaze, telling himself not to look away even as heat colors his cheeks and his ears grow hot. He swallows. “I haven’t told Shouyo. Or anyone. About what happened. I’m assuming that Shouyo thinks that we’re...still together.”

Kuroo nods. “And are you planning on telling him?”

Kenma doesn’t know how to say it. The words lodge in his throat and won’t come out, even as he tries to force them out. It’s becoming harder and harder to maintain his gaze and eventually he has to look down, has to keep himself from combusting on the spot under Kuroo’s scrutiny.

Kenma shakes his head. 

Now or never.

“I wanted to talk to you about this. Does...Does anyone else know that we broke up?”

He’s going to say yes. He’s going to say that he’s told his friends, our old teammates, everyone else by now and then I won’t even have to tell him what I was planning in the first place. Then we can just leave and I can forget about it until the wedding but why do I feel a little disappointed一 

“No.”

Kenma looks up, eyes wide.

Kuroo isn’t looking at him. His eyes are off to the side as he rests his chin on his hand. “I haven’t told anyone about our break up.”

Kenma frowns. “So then…”

Kuroo smiles wryly. “So then, to everyone but us, we’re still together. Which explains why Shrimpy addressed the invitation to the both of us as a pair.”

Kenma nods slowly. “I...guess that would be the appropriate explanation.”

Silence descends upon their table once more and Kuroo faces Kenma fully. “I’m guessing that you’re going to attend.”

“There’s only one RSVP card though.”

“And?”

Kenma shifts in his seat, awkward and uncomfortable. “They’re probably expecting us to show up together. You know. As a couple.”

Kuroo looks unperturbed. “How is that any problem of mine?”

There’s a short pang of pain in Kenma’s chest at the casual indifference in Kuroo’s tone but he brushes it off and swallows down the lump in his throat as he finds the words he’s been meaning to say for the past few minutes. 

“I was actually thinking that...it wouldn’t be too bad...if everyone thought that we were still together…”

Kuroo frowns and his gaze turns calculating. “What do you mean?” he asks, voice low and cautious.

Kenma swallows again, keeping his eyes on his hands. “I mean. I wouldn’t exactly be opposed to the idea of...of pretending that we’re still together.”

Silence.

Kenma doesn’t want to look up. He doesn’t want to see what kind of expression Kuroo wears on his face.

“I just think,” he quickly interjects as though Kuroo was about to say something, “that we can avoid all the awkwardness from ourselves and from everyone else if we attend Shouyo’s wedding as a couple. Everyone already thinks that we never broke up and there’s sure to be lots of questions if people find out about it at the event and I’d hate to draw attention to myself like that, especially on Shouyo and Kageyama’s reception, and even if we don’t tell anyone but act weirdly distant, people will notice and then there’ll just be more questions, and一”

“Kenma.”

Kenma stops and is surprised to find Kuroo’s shoulders shaking with concealed laughter, head bent and hand at his forehead. “Let me get this straight.” He looks up and there’s disbelief on his face, almost condescending even. “You want me to go to this wedding reception with you and pretend that, what, I’m still with you ?” 

The way he spits out the last two words sends tremors through Kenma’s already fragile heart and he forces a rough and bitter laugh. “Yeah, you’re right, it’s a dumb idea. Just一 forget it.” He grabs his bag and the invitation on the table and rises from his seat, Kuroo’s laughter coming to an abrupt stop as Kenma tries to leave.

“No, wait!” Kuroo stretches out an arm to block Kenma’s path. “S-Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to laugh. Just...stay for a bit, will you?”

There’s no sarcasm in Kuroo’s eyes then, no condescending tone to his words, and Kenma finds himself sinking back into his seat, laying the invitation back on top of the table. 

“I’m sorry that I reacted the way I did,” Kuroo says, tone more level. “It’s just...I never expected something like this to come from you.”

Kenma shrugs. “Yeah, well...a lot can change in four years.”

Kuroo snorts. “You’re telling me.”

They’re both intent on avoiding each other’s eyes as they lapse into silence once more. Kuroo reaches up to scratch the back of his neck. “Can I ask you one thing?”

Kenma gestures for him to continue.

“Why not just tell them that we broke up? Why didn’t you tell anyone then and why won’t you tell them now?”

“You said one thing,” Kenma shoots back and Kuroo blinks before he chuckles. “Well, you know, they could lead to the same answer.”

Kenma breathes in. “I could ask you the same question.”

Kuroo’s wry smile is back as he leans forward on his elbows. “Okay, touche. Let’s just say that my love life isn’t really a popular topic of conversation in the office.”

Kenma raises a brow. “Not even with your friends?”

“Well,” Kuroo shrugs, “how often do you think we see each other nowadays? I don’t have the time and neither do they and when we do see each other, the last thing they wanna hear is me talking about my boyfriend. You know how Yaku and the others are.”

Kuroo gives him a knowing look and Kenma can’t help but chuckle. “Okay. I believe you.”

“I assume the same goes for you?”

Kenma lets out a breath and nods. “More or less. You know that I don’t really talk about that kind of stuff normally even with my friends so it never really comes up.”

“Hm. I guess your introvertness plays an advantage here.” A pause. “Still, there has to be someone you confided in. Someone you may have told.”

“Was there one for you?”

The smile on Kuroo’s face falters and he shrugs. It isn’t really an answer but Kenma doesn’t push it. There are layers at work here, other reasons that they’re intentionally leaving unsaid, and if he doesn’t want Kuroo asking about his other reasons, then he won’t ask after Kuroo’s other reasons too, no matter how much he may want to know.

“So why not just tell Shrimpy now though?” Kuroo asks. “Just tell him that we broke up.”

Kenma is quiet and his hands clench into fists on his lap. “I can’t.”

Kuroo raises his brows. “And why not?”

“Because.”

“Because?”

Kenma schools his face into a neutral expression as best as he can before he looks up and meets Kuroo’s expectant gaze. “Because.” Saying it means that it’s real.

Kuroo still looks perplexed but there’s a hint of understanding in his eyes as he nods and looks down at the table. 

“So.” Kuroo drums his fingers against the wood. “Are we doing this?”

Kenma frowns. “Doing what?”

“Come on. Your idea. This whole ‘pretend that we’re still a couple’ gig. You know it’s no use playing dumb with me”

Kenma blinks. “I thought you didn’t want to.”

“Never said that I wasn’t interested,” Kuroo replies. “You just caught me off guard. I’ll admit that it would be pretty awkward if we both showed up at the reception and have to then explain to everyone why we’re not talking or being near each other. Besides, it’s bad luck to talk about breakups and separations during a wedding.”

“Would you really go this far?”

“I’m surprised that you would.”

Kenma opens his mouth to retort but finds that he can’t think of anything to say after all. 

“I never really thought you’d beat around the bush like this,” Kuroo continues. “I thought you’d be above it.”

“Like I said,” Kenma says, “I just want to avoid any unnecessary awkwardness. A-And anyways, they invited the both of us as a couple and you mentioned that thing about it being bad luck to talk about split-ups.” He counts himself lucky that Kuroo had mentioned that because in truth, he hadn’t thought about that at all. 

Kuroo smirks. “Yeah cause the main driving force behind this little scheme of yours is not accidentally jinxing Hinata and Kageyama’s union.” 

They’re quiet once again and Kenma only feels like more and more air is getting pulled out of his lungs the longer these silences last. “So what’s your plan anyway?” Kuroo asks.

“My plan?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo says. “I already agreed to do this, didn’t I?”

Kenma frowns. “You...did?”

Kuroo chuckles. “Yes I did. So do you have a plan or what?”

“I…” Kenma’s voice trails off and he tries to hide behind his hair to conceal the embarrassed flush of his cheeks. “I...didn’t think I’d actually get this far.”

There’s a momentary pause then Kuroo laughs and this one sounds different. It rings out more genuine than the others and Kenma doesn’t miss the way it lights up his face, just like it always did before. “I guess we can always figure it out as we go. And we have done it before.”

Kenma laughs sardonically. “Yeah. We have.”

Another moment of silence.

“Well,” Kuroo says, clapping his hands together, “to start, why don’t we seal the deal with a handshake?” And with that, he stretches out his hand towards Kenma, a congenial smile on his face.

Kenma hesitates before he takes it and Kuroo shakes it once before letting go. Kenma finds himself missing the warmth as soon as it’s gone. 

“Why?” Kenma asks in a quiet voice. “I can’t promise you anything in return. And it’s not like this is going to be easy.”

Kuroo hums and leans back lazily. “Well since you’re not gonna say it, would you believe me if I say that I just miss you?”

Kenma’s heart and stomach do somersaults inside him and there’s something different about the way Kuroo looks at him then. It brings back memories he would rather not remember at the moment and he suppresses the urge to grab his face and—

“I think it’s best if we don’t strategize about this too much,” Kenma says, determinedly not meeting Kuroo’s eyes. “Maybe just...act the way we used to. You know. So it seems more natural.”

“Got it,” Kuroo says simply. His phone buzzes in his pocket and he takes it out with a sigh, skimming over the message briefly before he checks his wristwatch and stands up. 

“I gotta go,” he says. “Sorry. I really only had a short window of time for this so I was kinda hoping you’d keep it brief.” Kuroo looks genuinely apologetic and maybe even disappointed.

Kenma shakes his head. “It’s fine. I一” He swallows and looks up at Kuroo. “Thank you.”

Kuroo blinks before his expression eases into a smile, softer than the previous ones. “I’ll be seeing you around then?”

Kenma nods and without another word, Kuroo turns his back on him and leaves the cafe. Kenma stares after him, even watches as he passes by the cafe’s window without sparing a glance inside, and then he’s gone and Kenma starts to breathe more easily. He settles down into his seat and feels his heart settle down with him.

That could have gone worse, he reassures himself. Kuroo could have said no. He could have not shown up at all too. Kenma picks up the invitation card and tucks it back into its envelope before putting it in his bag. He’d have to remind himself later to send that RSVP card back to Shouyo and Kageyama.

He jumps when his phone pings with a message notification and he’s surprised to find that it’s from Kuroo. 

we’ll have to go shopping for suits sometime. 

unless you already have one? 

also who’s taking care of the reception fee? i am very concerned about that.

Despite himself, Kenma lets out a small huff of laughter.

we can go shopping together. 

and i’ll take care of the fee. 

i doubt you can afford it.

The reply comes almost immediately.

i mean you’re right but also, rude.

And it’s oh so natural and oh so familiar that it makes Kenma’s chest ache with an unnameable emotion. But he puts it out of his mind for now and goes to order another slice of apple pie, telling himself that he deserves it after that nerve-wracking ordeal.

The hard part is over.

Now come the even harder parts. 

****

Kenma takes off his headphones with a sigh before leaving them to hang on the hook attached to the wall beside his monitor. He can hardly sit still as he waits for his computer to shut down, tapping his fingers on the table and bouncing his leg. Finally, the screen turns dark and Kenma is out of his seat in a flash, turning the lights off in his gaming and recording room before making his way to the kitchen where he starts pulling out the bowls and plates and other utensils he’ll need.

He opens his phone and pulls up the grilled mackerel recipe that he had saved days ago, along with at least ten more tabs on how to properly fillet and prepare the fish before he could even cook it. He grimly remembers the first time he had attempted to do this without any prior knowledge, going off only on the bare minimum that he had bothered to search, and he remembers all too well the overwhelming saltiness and burnt underside of the finished product. It hadn’t been all that disastrous but it hadn’t been good either. 

Determined not to make the same mistakes again, Kenma plays the video he had saved and balances his phone on the countertop in front of his knife and cutting board. He takes the mackerel out of the sink where he had left them to thaw before laying one out on his cutting board gingerly and picking up his knife, ready to start.

He does his best to do exactly as the video says. But the chef makes it look all too easy as his knife goes through the fish as smooth as butter while Kenma struggles even just cutting the head off. It takes some time and Kenma’s mackerel looks a bit rough around the edges but he manages to separate the meat equally and get most of the bones off. At the very least, it doesn’t look too far off from what the video says it’s supposed to look like. Also he hasn’t been sufficiently grossed out by the meat and the smell yet so he considers that a victory. 

The next fish Kenma fillets goes much more smoothly as his hands start to get accustomed to doing it. Pretty soon, he’s got four decently filleted pieces of mackerel and he pats himself on the back before proceeding to follow the rest of the recipe 一 coating the fillets in sake, sprinkling them with salt, letting them stay that way for twenty minutes before placing them in the oven to bake.

By the time Kenma has them baking in the oven, the sun has set outside and one glance at the wall clock is enough to send him panicking as he frantically gathers the ingredients for the miso soup. He mutters to himself as he works, wondering aloud why he didn’t just end the stream early while he adds the powdered dashi into the pot, bemoaning his own competitive spirit and the fact that he just had to clear one more level before he stopped streaming. 

“Just one more level, he said,” he murmurs as the dashi comes to a boil and he adds in the chopped vegetables. “I still have a lot of time, he said.”

The oven dings, letting him know that the mackerel is ready, and Kenma rushes to plate it, putting two pieces of mackerel on each plate, his ears listening for the sound of his doorbell or a knock on his front door which he’s sure should be coming any time now. After he’s finished with the mackerel, he turns back to attend to the soup and after adding the last of the ingredients and giving it more time to cook, he ladles the miso into two matching bowls, covering up the rest with the pot lid to be saved for later, and turning off the stove.

Kenma sighs, his nerves settling down somewhat as he brings the dishes to the dinner table one by one. He lays them out as neatly as he can 一 one plate of mackerel and one bowl of miso on one side of the table for himself, and the remaining two on the other side right across him. He stands and looks at the arrangement for a few seconds and groans at the fact that he didn’t have the time to make any other side dishes to go with everything and make it a full meal. 

He realizes that he’s left the rice in the rice cooker for a while now and goes to scoop out two large helpings into two bowls before bringing them to the table to complete the whole ensemble. But something is still missing and after consulting his phone one more time, Kenma realizes that he had forgotten the shredded daikon.

One final trip to the kitchen later, Kenma has two saucers full of daikon and two filled with soy sauce on the table with the rest of the dishes and after some thought, he brings out the bottle of sake and places it at the center as a final touch. He’d hate for it to go to waste, even if he isn’t much of a drinker. But the good thing is that Kuroo is and if he gets here before the mackerel and the soup gets cold, then Kenma will consider all of his hard labor worth it.

Kenma sinks into his seat with a heavy sigh, feeling as exhausted as if he had just gotten out of a five-set volleyball match. He allows himself to close his eyes and just breathe for a moment, basking in the silence of his dining room with only the sound of his fan and the crickets outside to fill it.

After a while, he sits up and snaps a photo of the food, thinking of maybe sending it to Akaashi or Shouyo, or just saving it for himself to remind him of what he’s capable of doing, or just as a matter of pride. Once he’s sure he’s got all the proper angles and the right lighting, Kenma places his phone down on the table and then there’s nothing left for him to do but wait.

He glances at the clock.

7:36 PM.

Kuroo should be out of work by now.

Kenma wonders if he should send him the photo of the dinner just to make him get here faster but he doesn’t want to spoil the surprise. They had agreed on takeout and a movie, as was the usual on their Friday night stay-in dates, and Kenma had made absolutely sure not to give away his plans to anyone. Thankfully, Kuroo had been too busy to stop by lately and hadn’t raided his fridge in a while. While the vegetables and the dashi and the other ingredients wouldn’t come as much of a surprise, he definitely would have noticed the mackerel, since Kenma rarely goes out of his way to get fish, picky eater that he is.

But grilled mackerel is Kuroo’s favorite and after he had called him the other night and talked about how much he missed having it the way his grandmother made it, Kenma wanted to do something nice for him for a change, especially after what he assumes was a busy week.

Kenma rests both of his arms on the table and places his head down on them like a pillow.

He hopes that it tastes even just a bit like the grilled mackerel Kuroo’s grandmother makes. He hopes it doesn’t turn out all weird and leathery like the last time he had tried to cook it, back in high school when he and Kuroo had just started dating. Kenma hopes that Kuroo gets here before all the food gets cold, especially the miso soup, and it’s the last thing he thinks before he feels his eyes get droopy and he nods off to sleep.

Kenma wakes up to the sound of his phone alarm some time later, jolting up in his seat with wide eyes. Kuroo still isn’t there. Kenma wipes at his bleary eyes as he silences his alarm which he had set to remind himself to take his anxiety meds. A fly hovers around his mackerel and Kenma shoos it away, clicking his tongue in distaste as he grabs the plastic food cover and traps the food within. 

He turns on his phone to check the time and is surprised to find that it’s already past nine. He grimaces. He’s sure that the main dish and the soup are cold by now. 

Why is Kuroo taking so long? He’s never usually this late.

Kenma sends him a quick message, asking him where he is and what’s holding him up. If he should even bother waiting up for him. He waits three minutes. Five. Ten. Still no reply.

Kenma feels his heart sink in his chest. He sits back down, uncovers the food and stares at it for a while. 

Well, the mackerel looks to be a bit burnt anyway, and he’s pretty sure his amateur attempt at miso soup with store-bought dashi powder is nothing compared to grandma Kuroo’s homemade dashi. What was he thinking anyway, making grilled mackerel? Kuroo should be having his grandmother’s tried and true recipe, not some cheap one that Kenma had grabbed from the internet and made himself without having done it successfully before. He should have just ordered takeout like they usually do, maybe should have gone for that new Italian place that just opened up, the one Kuroo had been wanting to try, instead of一 

Kenma’s thoughts are interrupted by the urgent knocking at his front door and he jumps in his seat, nearly dropping the food cover in the process. Kenma stands and stares with wide eyes towards the hall leading to the genkan where the knocking only becomes louder and more hurried.

“Kenma!” comes Kuroo’s voice, muffled by the front door. “Open up! I know you’re in there.”

Kenma swallows and makes his way to the front door, trying to seem cool and unbothered as he opens it for Kuroo. 

“Ahh, finally!” Kuroo sighs as he walks in, leaning in briefly to give Kenma a customary kiss on the forehead before walking past him and into the genkan to take off his shoes. “Sorry I’m late,” he says as he sits down and removes one shoe after another. “We had to extend the meeting and then I had to wait for the next train. Oh and my phone died right as I was getting out of work so sorry if I couldn’t let you know sooner.”

“Okay,” Kenma manages, still standing with his back to the door and watching as Kuroo lays his shoes out neatly and grabs the red house slippers that Kenma always kept for him. He turns as he’s putting the slippers on and catches Kenma’s eye, freezing in place when he does.

“Uh-oh,” he says. “What’s that look for? Are you mad at me? Is it cause I was late?”

Kenma shrugs as he walks past Kuroo. “I don’t know. Is it?”

Kuroo groans. “Kenmaaaa!” He grabs Kenma’s arm and pulls him towards him till he’s holding Kenma against him and wrapping his arms around his waist to keep him there. He sighs as he buries his face in Kenma’s hair. “I’m sorry, okay? I didn’t forget about our date. I really wanted to be here with you. You gotta believe me when I say that.”

Kenma sighs and pries Kuroo’s arms off before slipping out. “It’s fine,” he says maybe a little too brusquely as he makes his way to the dining room. 

Kuroo grabs his hand back and stops him. “I’ll pay for takeout,” he says. “I insist. Everything. You can pick out the restaurant and get as much food as you want. I won’t be mad.”

“Kuro,” Kenma admonishes softly, pushing Kuroo’s hand off. “It’s fine, really.”

Kuroo frowns. “You don’t look like you’re fine.”

“I一” Kenma stops and sighs again, turning his gaze down to the floor. “Just...let’s just go to the dining room already.”

“Kenma.” Kuroo’s voice is low and serious as he holds on to Kenma’s shoulders. “Look at me. I’m sorry. I really am. I really did try and get here as fast as I could and there are just some things out of my control that I can’t help. But if it makes you feel better, I’ll do my best not to let this happen again. I promise, I一”

Kenma interrupts the apology with another, much more exasperated sigh. “Ugh, just shut up and come with me already!” He grabs Kuroo’s hand and drags him all the way to the dining room. 

“K-Kenma?! What一” Kuroo’s spluttering comes to a stop when Kenma lifts the food cover and presents the dinner that he had made, still in the neat and precise arrangement Kenma had put it all in hours ago. Kuroo stands there with his mouth agape for a long moment. Kenma counts ten seconds before he turns to look at him, eyes wide. 

“Did一 Did you make all this?” he asks.

Kenma gives a small nod of his head as his cheeks burn up. “Yes. But it’s fine, you probably wouldn’t like it cold, so一”

Kenma reaches for the nearest bowl of rice, intending to put it away, when Kuroo walks right up to him and envelopes him in a tight hug, resting his head on Kenma’s shoulder. Kenma staggers backward at the weight and he feels like he’s being swallowed whole by the much larger mass of Kuroo’s body. 

“Kuro一”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Kuro, it’s fine一”

“I should have made every excuse to get out of that meeting. I should have called a cab instead of taking the train. I should have sprinted all the way to your house instead of just walking. I should have一”

“Kuro.”

Kuroo looks up and Kenma lets out a small breath of laughter at the look on Kuroo’s face. “It’s okay. You’re here now, aren’t you?”

Kuroo blinks. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

“Then let’s eat already,” Kenma says. “I’m starving.”

Kuroo stares at him for a moment before he grins and steals a kiss from Kenma’s lips. “What’d I do to deserve you, kitten?”

Kenma opens his mouth for a retort but finds that he can’t think of anything to say and looks away in embarrassment, cheeks flushing red. “Stop it, the food’s just going to get even colder.”

“You’re gonna heat it all up anyway,” Kuroo teases as he leans in for another kiss. Kenma doesn’t protest this time, easing into the kiss with little resistance till he’s being held flush against Kuroo and Kuroo is starting to get way too into it, hungry maybe for something other than food.

Kenma forces himself to pull away, gasping for air as he does so. “Okay, that’s enough,” he says. “I didn’t go through all that trouble just for my hard work to be ignored like this.”

Kuroo laughs and presses their foreheads together. “Am I forgiven?’

“Hmm,” Kenma hums. “Tell me my food tastes great then maybe I’ll consider it.”

Kuroo laughs again and squeezes Kenma. “I’m sure anything you make is going to taste good.”

Kenma makes an effort to extract himself from Kuroo’s arms, even as a part of him wants to stay like that just for a little longer. “Even the last time I tried to make grilled mackerel?”

“Ah. Most food you make then.”

Kuroo advises Kenma against heating up the mackerel in the microwave and all Kenma heats back up is the miso soup. When they finally sit down to eat, Kuroo finishes his serving without complaint. Kenma’s certain that the mackerel isn’t as good cold, and even if it were fresh, he’s pretty sure that it’s not as good as Kuroo’s grandmother’s grilled mackerel. But Kuroo’s eyes light up anyway when he takes that first bite and he smiles and tells him that it tastes delicious, if not way better than his last attempt, and Kenma tries to hide his smile behind his hand, pretending to only be hiding his chewing.

They end up ordering takeout afterwards, after much reassuring from Kuroo that it isn’t because his food wasn’t good. (“It just...leaves a lot to be desired, do you get what I’m saying? But not because it was bad!”)

Kenma rolls his eyes before deciding on the new Italian place he knows Kuroo’s been eyeing. After a shared bath and a more comfortable change of clothes (although Kenma wasn’t entirely opposed to the three piece suit Kuroo usually sports for work,) they’re sitting in Kenma’s home theatre with a box of greasy pizza between them, watching whatever old romcom Kuroo had picked out, and it isn’t long after when they decide to break out the sake.

And Kenma soon forgets that he had even been mad; forgets that he had been worried over grilled mackerel, over whether or not he’d be good enough for Kuroo, because Kuroo’s right here. Kuroo’s arm is around his shoulder and Kuroo’s eyes light up that way only for him. Kuroo’s hand is running through his hair and Kuroo’s lips are up against his and soon, Kenma is unable to think of anything else.

Chapter Text

The day of the shopping trip comes much sooner than Kenma had anticipated. 

After their initial meeting, he and Kuroo had corresponded through messages to settle on a date and time. They didn’t talk about much else other than the wedding and good places to buy suits and Kenma feels a sense of relief that it didn’t come to awkward small talk. Or worse. To the very obvious topics of conversation that they were both avoiding.

Nothing hammers in the fact that this is all real and actually happening more than when he receives a message from Kuroo that morning asking him if he’s still good to go. It takes Kenma a while to reply, half because he’d just gotten out of the shower and was just picking out what to wear with nothing but his pants on, and half because of the fact that being on speaking terms with Kuroo again has started to sink in.

It’s weird, almost, to see Kuroo’s name at the top of his messages and read through his words knowing that they were written out and sent to him a mere few minutes ago, not four years. 

Well, now that he’s taken a shower, he can’t very well back out, so Kenma shoots him a quick reply letting him know that he’ll meet him in an hour, then he puts down his phone and turns to his closet. Instinctively, he reaches for a plain old hoodie but something makes him stop and hesitate right before he grabs it.

He usually doesn’t care about what he wears when he goes out, unless it’s for work, but something is telling him that maybe, just this once, he should at least look like he didn’t just grab the nearest thing in his closet and went with it. It’s not like he ever went to the mall in his frayed old sweatpants and house slippers, but his usual outfits never consist of anything more than jeans, a t-shirt, a hoodie and sneakers. They’re simple and decent enough but pretty low-effort now that he thinks about it.

How long ago has it even been since he bought himself some new clothes? A few months ago? Last Christmas? Whatever he has in his closet right now must be pretty old and he’s probably worn every possible outfit combination at least a hundred times already. 

“Why do you even care?” Kenma mutters to himself but he already knows the answer. Seeing Kuroo in that three piece suit the other day and noting how sloppy he must have looked in comparison had certainly left an impression. Or maybe he just doesn’t want Kuroo to think that ninety percent of his wardrobe is made up of hoodies (It’s true, but still.) Or , maybe, possibly, just a little bit — he might actually want to look nice in front of Kuroo.

Either way, Kenma decides to bypass the comfortable familiarity of a hoodie for now and digs deeper into his closet for something else to wear. To his surprise, he finds a tank top buried at the very bottom of a pile of t-shirts. It’s white with black grunge-y print and while he’s pretty sure that he’s never worn this outside before, he’s not that certain about where or when he had actually gotten it. If he had to guess, he probably bought it on a whim one day and then never wore it once. He finds a red plaid shirt and puts it on over the tank top, mostly to hide his bare shoulders, but keeping the shirt open so it still shows what’s underneath. It’s a look he’s seen other people pull off and he’s hoping that he’ll be able to pull it off too.

He spends a lot of time in front of the mirror, looking at himself from the bottom of his worn sneakers to the top of his head. It’s still a casual look but at least now it isn’t just a hoodie and jeans. He looks different but it’s a good kind of different, one that he actually isn’t minding at all. 

He does his hair up in his usual style, deciding that the outfit is the limit of his experimentation for today, then leaves the house in a hurry. He arrives at the mall where he and Kuroo are supposed to meet with five minutes to spare. Early again.

Kuroo arrives a mere seven minutes after him. He isn’t wearing the three piece suit this time (thank God or Kenma would have looked way too casual next to him) but it’s still unfair how good he looks in nothing but jeans and a black long-sleeved top. But, Kenma supposes, he’s always looked good even in their old volleyball tracksuit. Or is that just the way Kenma’s always seen him?

Kenma doesn’t have time to unpack that right now because Kuroo is grinning as he walks towards him, one hand raised in greeting. Kenma waves back, though he’s unsure where he’s supposed to look and he ends up staring at the floor as Kuroo approaches.

“Hey,” Kuroo says as he walks up to him, sounding a little breathless. “Sorry if I was a bit late.”

“It’s fine,” Kenma says, forcing himself to look at Kuroo properly. “I wasn’t waiting long.”

“That’s good.” Kuroo pauses and looks him up and down, eyes narrowing slightly.

“What?” Kenma asks. “It’s a new style I’m trying,” he adds, hoping that he doesn’t sound too defensive. 

“Oh it’s not that,” Kuroo is quick to reply. “I should have told you to wear a button-up shirt beforehand. It helps with the measurements so the jacket doesn’t end up too tight or too loose. But I guess there’s always the second fitting.”

Kenma frowns. “Second fitting?”

Kuroo blinks. “Well, yeah. We’re having this suit tailor-made for you, aren’t we?”

“...Is that what we agreed on?”

Kuroo scoffs, a smile playing at his lips. “Don’t tell me that you thought we were just going to get a suit off the rack at the department store and be done with it.”

Kenma looks away because that was exactly what he had been thinking. “Well in my defense, I’ve never had a suit tailor-made for me before.” 

“There’s a first time for everything, I guess,” Kuroo says with a chuckle.

“Do you get your suits tailor-made?” Kenma asks, curiosity getting the better of him.

“Yeah,” Kuroo replies. “Most of ‘em. They look good, don’t they?”

“Sure,” Kenma huffs, not meeting Kuroo’s eyes for fear that he might detect his thoughts straying once again to his three piece, falling into place beside him as Kuroo leads the way. 

The shop is one that Kenma’s passed by lots of times before but never been inside of. It’s the kind of shop he’s always been intimidated by, even if he did need a suit. The floors are polished, the inside pristine, the lighting bright and immaculate, and the clerks all much more well-dressed than he is. They seem to recognize Kuroo because they greet him with some familiarity and Kuroo smiles, raising his hand in return.

Standing amidst the racks and mannequins of pressed suits and ties, Kenma isn’t sure where to start. He feels out of place here and he half regrets showing up in a tank top, even if his arms are covered up.

As if sensing his distress, Kuroo is by his side in an instant. “So, what colors were you thinking?”

Kenma shrugs and looks around the shop with a mixture of alarm and confusion. “What...What kind of colors do you normally wear at a wedding?”

“Well white is definitely out of the question. Leave that for the newlyweds.” Kuroo moves towards a rack of jackets and starts rifling through it. Kenma follows, watching the movement of his hand as he goes through one jacket after another. He stops and lifts one up — gray with a subtle crisscross pattern. “You can never go wrong with gray. What do you think?”

If he’s being completely honest, Kenma doesn’t know enough about suits to know what looks good and what doesn’t. He shrugs. “I guess it’s all right.”

“Tsk.” Kuroo shakes his head and puts the jacket back on the rack. “‘All right’ isn’t good enough. We gotta find something that you’ll actually want to wear.”

“What am I supposed to be looking for anyway?” Kenma asks, inspecting the rack to the right of Kuroo, which contains an assortment of blue satin jackets. 

“Hmm,” Kuroo hums. “I know you like comfort above everything else but you still have to look good.” He gives Kenma a look before turning back to the rack. “Something neutral. Something that won’t draw attention to you. Nothing too fancy or too elaborate. Am I right on the mark?”

Kenma stares, too surprised to really give much of an answer. Kuroo smiles to himself. “I’ll take your silence as a yes.”

Kenma huffs and walks over to another rack, just to have something to do with his hands. “What about you?” he asks. “Shouldn’t you be looking for something for yourself?”

“Oh I already have a suit,” Kuroo says without looking up.

Kenma turns to stare at him. “What?”

“I already have a suit,” Kuroo repeats and meets his stare. “What, did you think I was going to spend more money on a new one when I’ve got a perfectly acceptable three piece already?”

Kenma frowns. “Then why are you even here?”

Kuroo gives him a wry smile. “Because you’d be helplessly shopping for a tacky oversized suit alone at the department store otherwise. You need all the help that you can get.”

Kenma gives him a withering look in return but Kuroo only scoffs and turns back to the rack. “Just so we’re clear,” he says after a while, “money isn’t a problem for you, is it?”

“No,” Kenma replies. “I suppose I can spare a little extra for this.”

“Oh you’ll be needing more than a little extra when I’m through with you,” Kuroo says with audible excitement in his voice. 

Kenma grimaces but doesn’t say another word. He’s sure by now that Kuroo knows what he’s doing. If anything, Kenma’s surprised at how seriously he’s taking this whole thing, inspecting every single jacket with a careful eye before either putting it back on the rack or slinging it over his arm to hold on to. Kenma doesn’t know why he even bothers to browse for himself when whatever Kuroo picks out for him is sure to be better than what he could  find. Still, he doesn’t get many opportunities to shop for an expensive suit so he makes an effort to find something to try on. 

Kenma might not know much, but he knows enough to avoid the multicolored suits towards the back of the shop. They aren’t garishly bright or tacky, but he knows that they’re far from appropriate for a wedding. He finds his eyes drawn towards darker colors, shades of black and gray. After a while, a dark red jacket that almost looks black in the right lighting catches his eye. He runs a hand across the fabric and puts the sleeves up against his arms, inspecting the small buttons on the cuffs. 

“Hey, that looks good.”

He looks up at Kuroo and reflexively lowers the jacket. “I, uhh...it does?”

Kuroo nods, looking mildly amused. “Why don’t you try it on with the rest?”

“I…” Kenma glances at the jacket then at the pile that Kuroo’s already got in his arms. “I don’t know. Maybe red isn’t the right color.”

“Hmm.” Kuroo taps his chin. “Yeah, maybe you’re right. Why don’t you get a red tie instead? It goes great with gray and hey, we’ll match.”

“Matching ties?” Kenma gives him a look.

“You don’t have to look at me like that,” Kuroo grumbles. “We’re supposed to be together, remember?”

Kenma blinks. “Right.” He looks at the jackets and pants draped over Kuroo’s arms and raises his brows. “Are you going to make me try all of that on?”

Kuroo smirks. “Yes, that’s kind of the point of buying a suit.”

Kenma rolls his eyes but follows Kuroo to the dressing rooms where the shop’s resident tailor waits for them. Everything after that is a blur as Kenma tries on suit after suit, and submits himself to the judging gazes of not only Kuroo, but the tailor as well who gets way too into his personal space, poking and prodding annoyingly at the space between his shoulders to get him to stand straighter.

Kuroo for the most part looks like he’s enjoying himself far too much, lounging on the chaise sofa like a king as he watches the tailor harass Kenma to no end. Kenma makes sure to shoot him a deadly glare every once in a while but Kuroo only smirks and waves his hand lazily, unfazed.

Kenma isn’t picky. The first few suits he tries on all look okay to him and he’s ready to say yes to any of them if only to get this over and done with. But Kuroo and the tailor keep insisting that he try another one on, that there was something wrong or off about the previous suit, or that the button up they had picked wasn’t right, and Kenma’s being pushed back into the dressing room before he even gets a word in. But, Kenma supposes, Kuroo should be a much better judge at this than he is so he grits his teeth and puts up with yet another fitting. 

Kenma’s not sure how long or just how many suits they go through before they finally arrive at “the one.” All he knows is that at one point, he steps out of the dressing room and stands still and straight in front of Kuroo and the tailor for a few seconds, silently waiting for their verdict and hoping that it’ll be quicker this time so they can move on to the next one. He looks up in surprise when he doesn’t hear any comments from them after another ten seconds.

The tailor circles him, nodding his head, and when Kenma looks to Kuroo, he has a hand at his chin and his eyebrows raised. Not a look of disapproval, as far as Kenma knows.

“Does it look good?” Kenma asks after a while. 

Kuroo hums and stands up, eyes roaming up and down Kenma’s body as he walks towards him. Kenma burns under the scrutiny and tries not to think too much about the way Kuroo is looking at him so intently. 

Kuroo stops and snaps his fingers. “I know what it needs. You got any red ties?” he asks the tailor.

The tailor returns with a deep red tie with a silver ribbed pattern and hands it to Kuroo who steps right up to Kenma. “May I?” he asks. Kenma nods and lifts his chin a little to allow access.

Kenma’s pretty sure Kuroo can hear his frantic heartbeat this close to him, if not feel his pulse against his neck. But he stands still and holds his breath, eyes looking anywhere but straight at Kuroo.

It’s too close. He’s too close . 

Kuroo pulls on the tie and Kenma gasps as it closes around his neck a little too tightly. 

“Ah, sorry!” Kuroo says quickly. “Was that too tight?”

Kenma nods and Kuroo adjusts the tie. “You’re taking this whole thing really seriously,” Kenma says, if only to lighten the tension in the air.

Kuroo chuckles. “Am I not allowed to?”

“No. I just didn’t think you had this much expertise on suits.”

“Hey, if I have to be wearing one constantly for work, I should at least look good.”

This close, every word Kuroo speaks sends the lightest puff of air against Kenma’s skin and it’s taking all of his willpower not to linger on that fact, or on the smooth movement of Kuroo’s fingers working the tie around his neck.

After what feels like ages, Kuroo steps back and Kenma breathes a sigh of relief, hands reaching up instinctively but deciding that he doesn’t want to ruin Kuroo’s handiwork and awkwardly lowering them back to his side.

“Does it look all right?” he asks.

Kuroo meets his eyes and smirks. “Why don’t you see for yourself?”

Kenma turns towards the floor to ceiling mirror on one side of the wall and his eyes widen the instant he catches sight of himself. He looks...different. It’s the first time he’s actually taken a good look at the suit he’s in and he’s surprised that it took him this long to really see it. It’s a solid dark gray suit; double-breasted, the tailor had called it, with matching dress pants. He wears a plain white button up shirt underneath, making the dark red tie Kuroo had picked pop out. It’s fairly simple and doesn’t stand out too much amongst others but it’s amazing the difference it makes. It’s nothing like the shirt, tie and blazer of his high school uniform. Kenma feels like he’s staring at another person with the same face and hair but a totally different bearing. He feels...well, he feels weirdly confident in it.

“See?” comes Kuroo’s smug voice. “Marvel at the difference a good quality suit can make.”

Kenma scowls at him from over his shoulder. “The jacket’s a bit too big, I think.”

“Well that’s what the tailor’s for,” Kuroo says. “Don’t worry, he’ll measure you and get all that adjusted and then you’ll be looking even sharper by the second fitting. Pretty sure we can get him to make the shirt and the jacket look slimmer.”

Kenma nods along to his words but he’s still staring at himself in the mirror, not really hearing what Kuroo’s saying. He doesn’t even see Kuroo sneak up behind him until he feels the brush of his fingers in his hair and he freezes up. 

“Sorry,” Kuroo says, his voice low and soft, enough to almost send a shiver down Kenma’s spine. “What’re we going to do with your hair? Doubt they’ll let you wear it out, even if it looks good on you. You thinking a bun or a ponytail?”

Kenma makes the mistake of looking up and meeting Kuroo’s dark eyes in the mirror. He looks down and swallows. “I...was actually thinking of doing it in a bun. What do you think?”

“Hmm,” Kuroo muses and leans forward till his face is nearly right beside Kenma’s. “Yeah, I think that might work.” 

Kuroo reaches for the part of his hair that isn’t tied up in the knot and Kenma feels the warmth of his fingertips brush over his neck before Kuroo lets go. Kuroo’s breath ghosts against his skin and it becomes harder and harder to ignore the increasing tension in the air. Kuroo spends far too much time than normal running his hands through Kenma’s hair and when Kenma looks at him through the mirror, his eyes seem distant and absentminded.

Then someone clears their throat loudly from behind them and Kuroo blinks. His eyes widen and he steps back, quickly letting go of Kenma’s hair and strolling back to his seat on the chaise sofa as the tailor returns, glancing curiously between them.

After that, there’s nothing left to do but change out of the suit, get his measurements taken, and pay the initial fee. The tailor gets Kenma’s contact info so he can inform him when it’s ready for the second fitting, reassuring him that he’ll get it done before the wedding, then Kuroo and Kenma are out of the shop and looking for a place to sit and eat.

Kenma’s not sure exactly how long that took but it feels like it’s been hours since they first entered the shop. So, understandably, he’s starving. It must be so bad that it shows on his face because Kuroo takes one look at him and frowns.

“I hear that pastry shop you like is still open,” Kuroo says. “Or at least, I hope it still is. Want to drop by for a snack?”

Kenma looks up at him, expression blank. “You remember that place?”

Kuroo scoffs. “Yeah. You used to spend hours in that place in college. You complained that you couldn’t work at home because you couldn’t concentrate with all your games in there so you used to go to that place with nothing but your laptop and charger and you’d stay there for hours on end eating nothing but sweets and coffee.” He chuckles and adds, “Half the reason you liked it there so much was because they had a huge fluffy white cat who would sit at people’s tables sometimes and you always hoped that he’d sit at yours whenever you visit.”

Kenma is quiet for a moment. “You sure do remember a lot about me.”

Something like panic flashes through Kuroo’s eyes for the briefest second, as if he had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t be. He coughs into his hand and stares straight ahead, pointedly avoiding Kenma’s narrowed gaze. “I guess some things just stick in your memory more than others. A-Anyways, it should be close to here, yeah?”

Kenma shrugs. “I don’t know. You’re the one who remembers it so well.”

Kuroo scowls. “You make it sound like I’m not supposed to.”

Kenma shrugs his shoulders again and looks off to the side purposefully. “I haven’t been there in years. I don’t even remember what it’s called, let alone what their cat looked like.” He pauses and stares at Kuroo. “Do you remember the cat’s name?”

Kuroo walks on in silence for a moment. Then, in a low mumble, “Marmalade.”

Kenma stifles a laugh and Kuroo scowls at him indignantly. “It was the cutest damn cat I’ve ever seen! You try forgetting any cat named Marmalade.”

“Pfft.” Kenma hides his smile behind his hand. “I remember. They called him Maru-chan in short. It suited him. Beneath all his fluff, he was really round.”

Kuroo scowls at him. “You remembered all along and you made it seem like I was weird for remembering all those little details.”

“Oh it’s still weird,” Kenma says. “I mean, I’m your ex now, remember? All those memories related to me shouldn’t still be occupying space in your head.”

The moment the words are out of his mouth, Kenma realizes his mistake. The smile on Kuroo’s face falters before disappearing altogether to be replaced by a hard and somber look. He clears his throat and turns to look ahead of him. The lighthearted atmosphere that they had maintained up until that moment abruptly turns tense and awkward. Kenma wishes for the comfort of his hoodie, if only so he could pull up his hood, zip it up tight and hide his guilty face from the world forever.

They pass the rest of the walk to the shop in silence, with Kuroo leading the way, although the path starts to look familiar to Kenma the closer they get. Once there, they take a table and Kuroo orders for the both of them. When the order arrives, the waiter places a slice of apple cinnamon cheesecake in front of Kenma and two hot lattes for the both of them.

“They didn’t have apple pie so I went with the next best thing,” Kuroo says as he stirs his cup, keeping his eyes on his drink. “My treat.” There isn’t any hostility in his voice but it’s distantly polite, with none of the familiar lightheartedness from earlier.

Kenma nods and takes a first tentative bite. It’s good. Not as good as apple pie, but it gets the job done.

Silence reigns over their table once more. Kuroo sits there sipping his latte with his chin in his hand, staring out of the nearest cafe window and looking at anywhere but right across him where Kenma sits in a similar state of quietness. Eventually, Kenma decides that he can’t take any more of the stifling atmosphere and he pulls out his phone, if only to have something to look at.

Suddenly, Kuroo grabs Kenma’s arm and he looks up in surprise. Kuroo is staring at another table, face frozen in a look of surprise and disbelief. Kenma follows his gaze and immediately understands. Sitting there with his tail swishing back and forth over the edge of a nearby table is a large cat, his white fur since gone gray and his yellow lamp-like eyes heavy with age, looking like it’s taking all of his willpower not to fall asleep at that very moment. The cat yawns, stretches and leaps off the table to slink away behind the counter.

Kuroo and Kenma both turn to look at each other at the same time. “Maru-chan,” they say in unison, low and serious. There’s a short pause. Then they both burst out laughing, their low snickers and chuckles turning into barely concealed laughter.

“I didn’t think he’d still be alive.” Kuroo grins, wiping a tear from his eye. 

“You and me both,” Kenma says once he’s calmed down though it’s hard to keep the smile off his face. “It’s good to see that he’s doing well though.”

“Is it just me or is he much rounder than I remembered?” Kuroo asks.

Kenma chuckles. “Could be.” He looks down to take a bite of his cheesecake and only notices that Kuroo is watching him when he looks up and meets his eyes. 

“What?” he asks, immediately on guard.

Kuroo shrugs. “Nothing. It’s just...been a while since I heard you laugh like that.”

There’s a heavy pause before Kenma gives a rather short and pronounced, “Oh.” He shifts in his seat and reaches up to tuck his hair behind his ear. “I haven’t...I can’t remember the last time I did either.”

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Kuroo says and Kenma gestures for him to continue.

Kuroo scratches the back of his neck, keeping his gaze down at the table as he drums his fingers against the surface. “When you called me ‘cause of this whole scheme of yours...how were you so sure that I wasn’t already with someone else at that point?”

Kenma freezes and his heart sinks in his chest as he realizes that for all his careful planning and made-up scenarios, he hadn’t once thought of the possibility that Kuroo might not be single at all. For that matter, it must have looked incredibly suspicious of him - his ex - to call him one night wanting to meet up. Four years is a lot of time indeed, and with Kuroo’s looks and charisma, it shouldn’t be a problem for him to find someone new after he and Kenma broke up.

“...Are you with someone else?” Kenma asks, unable to bring himself to answer the question truthfully.

“Well, no,” Kuroo replies. “Not at the moment.”

“But you were, before. I mean, after me.”

“Well, yeah, I’ve dated other people here and there.”

But nothing serious? Nothing like what we had?

The question and the underlying insinuation sounds ridiculous as soon as Kenma thinks of it and he pushes it down, resisting the urge to voice it out. In retrospect, he shouldn’t have assumed that Kuroo would be single and it’s even more ridiculous of him to assume that Kuroo didn’t have any other serious relationships after they’d broken up. And that’s not even counting the one night stands or flings that men like Kuroo surely get up to when they want to. After all, there’s nothing stopping Kuroo from pursuing other people now, and the same goes for Kenma. 

So why does the thought of it bother him so much?

“I can hear you thinking from here,” Kuroo says with a hint of amusement and Kenma blinks, realizing that he had stayed silent for too long.

“Is it really a surprise that I’ve gone on dates with other people in the past four years?” Kuroo asks. “Maybe even gotten into another relationship?”

“Have you?” The question is out of his mouth before Kenma even has time to think it through and he quashes the rising shame and embarrassment, looking determinedly at Kuroo.

Kuroo hums thoughtfully and leans back, crossing his arms over his chest. “Well,” he begins before trailing off. “No,” he answers flatly. “Nothing past one or two dates at least. Went on a third date with a guy once but he made it pretty clear that he wasn’t interested in me beyond just wanting to sleep with me.”

“Huh,” Kenma says, for lack of a better response. He’s not sure how to take that information but he definitely feels something knowing that he’s still Kuroo’s last serious relationship, though there’s definitely still a bitter note to that.

“Have you?”

Kenma frowns. “Have I what?”

“Been in a relationship in the past four years.”

Kenma feels Kuroo’s gaze on him, almost as intent as that time he had been playing with his hair, and Kenma swallows before he shakes his head. “No.”

Kuroo raises his brows. “Not even one date? Or a fling?”

Kenma shakes his head again and looks away in embarrassment. “I don’t...You of all people should know that I don’t do ‘flings’ or sleep around with just anyone. Plus I barely have the time for a date, let alone multiple dates.”

Kuroo scoffs. “Clearly.”

Kenma isn’t sure if that had been intended as a jab or not, but he takes offense nonetheless.

“Well,” Kenma says as he stabs his fork through his cheesecake, “sorry if I have a job that literally takes so much of my time and energy, and that I’m an introvert who needs a lot of time to himself to recuperate from the stress, and that I don’t really get many opportunities to meet people outside of my established group of friends, and that—“

Kenma stops after he realizes that Kuroo is laughing into his hand, trying but failing to stifle the sound. 

Kenma raises a brow. “Was something I said funny?”

Kuroo puts up both hands in surrender. “Sorry, sorry. It’s just— Your excuses haven’t changed at all. You used to say that in high school too, only you’d mention the volleyball club instead of work. You’d be all like, ‘sorry if I don’t have time for dating because you literally got me into volleyball and now it eats up all my free time.’” 

Kenma scowls as he feels his face heat up. “Was I wrong though?”

Kuroo smiles, fond this time, and shakes his head. “No. Also just so you know, I asked that time because I was pretty convinced my feelings were unrequited but I wanted to make sure anyway and ask you the real reason why you never date anyone. I mean, you got a surprising number of confessions from girls and guys before and you’re attractive and all—“

Kenma interrupts with a loud disbelieving scoff. “One or two confessions a year don’t really seem like much compared to the truckload of letters and chocolates you used to get everytime Valentines rolls around, and even after.”

Kuroo chuckles. “Well yeah, have you seen me?”

Kenma wants to retort with a snarky remark but honestly, yes. He has seen Kuroo, more closely than others, and it should be pretty obvious. “Okay but I doubt I was that attractive.”

“Tsk, tsk.” Kuroo shakes his head gravely. “Ah Kenma, how are you still so blind to your own bedevilling charms?”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “Just because you used to find me attractive doesn’t mean everyone does.”

“What do you mean ‘used to’?” Kuroo quips back. “I still do.”

Kenma freezes with a forkful of cheesecake halfway to his mouth, staring at Kuroo with raised brows. 

Kuroo coughs into his hand. “I mean—“ he says, eyes looking rapidly around the room. “Objectively, you know. Look, the point is, you underestimate how attractive you are to other people, and I—I’m sure there’s people out there who’d want to date you, even if you’re introverted and anti-social and moody.”

“Thanks,” Kenma says sarcastically before biting the piece of cheesecake at the end of his fork. His mind doesn’t know what to do with the information that Kuroo still finds him attractive but he files it away in his head for later; if he ever needs it. 

“Besides,” Kenma continues after he’s swallowed, “I don’t think I want to date anyone right now. I just don’t think it’s necessary. I haven’t felt the need to pursue a relationship with anyone not since—“ He stops. Well, not since you.

Kuroo is looking at him, still waiting for him to continue, and Kenma clears his throat.

“Never mind,” he says quickly. “But anyways, if you want to go on dates or have flings with other people before the wedding, don’t let me stop you. Just don’t let anyone we know see you or they’ll suspect.”

Kuroo has one brow raised, clearly still thinking about Kenma’s interrupted sentence, but he nods and takes a long sip of his latte before saying, “I don’t think I’m going to be getting much action any time soon anyway.” 

“Oh?” Kenma hums, absentminded, as he gathers up the last crumbs of the cheesecake’s crust onto one side of his plate. 

“I mean, I’m supposed to still be with you, right?” Kuroo says. “Have to commit to the act.”

When Kenma looks up at him then, there’s a knowing glint in his eyes and something like amusement on his face, as if he were provoking him into saying something. But Kenma just shrugs and turns back to his plate. “Do whatever you want, I guess.”

Kuroo sighs and leans back against his chair. “You don’t get what I’m trying to say, are you?”

“Maybe if you told me what you really want to say, I’ll get it.”

Kuroo snorts. “Fair. I’m saying that I’ll be free if you ever need me to be. I can make time out of my schedule if you ever need to see me for whatever reason, like if you need me to help make your part of the act look convincing.” 

Kenma hums. “I think I’m fine but I’ll consider it.”

“Oh come on.” Kuroo scoffs “You’re telling me that you haven’t dated anyone in four years and you think you’ll be okay pretending to be in a relationship now?”

Kenma frowns up at him. “I may not know what it’s like to date other people but I remember what it’s like to date you. I think I’ll manage.”

Kuroo is quiet for a moment. “You really mean that you haven’t dated anyone other than me before?”

Kenma snorts and smiles wryly. “It really took you this long to realize that? In case you haven’t noticed, I turned down all those confessions in high school, no matter how few. And you of all people would have known if I were dating someone back then.”

“Why?”

The question comes sudden and loaded with conviction. Kuroo’s expression is neutral and guarded. “Why turn all of them down? And why not start dating again, now?” he adds.

Kenma resists the urge to wring his hands on his lap and stares down at his now empty plate. He sighs. “Because I liked someone else; and because I’ve only ever liked one person that way.”

He looks up, locking eyes with Kuroo. Something passes between them then, some unspoken truth that neither of them need to verbalize, and for once, Kuroo looks like he’s run out of words to say. He opens his mouth but no sound comes out. He sighs and breaks eye contact, looking like he’s thinking deeply.

The air around them is thick and nearly suffocating in the silence. Kenma draws in a deep breath before he decides he’s had enough of this and claps his hands together, drawing Kuroo’s attention back to him. 

“I think that’s enough for today,” Kenma says. “I should get going.”

“Oh.” Kuroo glances at his wristwatch. “Ah, it’s that time already? Guess time really flies huh?” He laughs but it sounds rough and forced.

“Thanks for coming with me.” Kenma stands from his seat. “Although you could have told me that you weren’t going shopping for yourself.”

Kuroo chuckles and the growing tension between them seems to diffuse for a short moment. They make their way out of the shop and walk together out onto the street.

“I’m going this way,” Kuroo says, pointing the opposite direction of the train station. “Still have some business in town to take care of.”

Kenma nods. “Okay. I’ll be seeing you then.”

Kuroo gives him one last grin. “See you then.” His hand reaches out towards Kenma’s face and Kenma stays still until Kuroo seems to realize what he’s doing and quickly drops his hand back to his side. He gives one more strained smile then turns and walks down the street.

Kenma watches him go all the way until he disappears around a corner, and he doesn’t turn back once. Kenma sighs and goes on his way.

There had been too much tension in that conversation alone and Kenma knows that anyone sitting close enough to them would have felt it too. They weren’t even acting yet and they were already exposing so many cracks in their pretend relationship. They were going to be in trouble if anyone perceptive enough caught on or sensed all the tension between them.

Once exes, always exes, Kenma thinks. Even if they manage to repair their friendship this way and go back to being friends, nothing’s going to change the fact that they’re still each other’s exes.

And maybe nothing more ever again.

****

“This is a nice place,” Kenma says as he takes his seat, looking around the warmly lit interior of the restaurant. The chairs they sit on are made of red velvet and the tablecloth has elaborate gold lace trim. A large crystal chandelier hangs above the diners and a man sits playing the piano on a raised platform at the center of the room. Everyone is well-dressed, from the waiting staff to the customers, and even Kenma is decked out in the neatest button up and slacks that he can find — the only article of clothing he owns that could count as semi-formal.

Kenma immediately feels like he doesn’t belong here.

Across him, Kuroo smirks, resting his elbows casually on the table. “Right? Like one of those fancy restaurants you see all the time on TV and movies.”

Kenma hums, resisting the urge to take his phone out. “How’d you find this place anyway?”

Kuroo shrugs. “A co-worker recommended it. It’s not really a place I can afford to go to a lot with my salary, but for special occasions like this, I can make an exception.”

Kenma smiles and hopes that it doesn’t look as strained as it feels. “Special occasions? We just have some time off. Nothing special about that.”

Kuroo chuckles. “Yeah but how often do our days off happen at the same time? You have to admit, it’s been a while since we had an actual date.”

Kenma pauses. “You didn’t have to go all out like this,” he says, though he really wanted to say, ‘We could have stayed in like we usually do on Friday nights.’

“Like I said, this is a special occasion,” Kuroo replies, apparently oblivious to Kenma’s discomfort.

Their waiter arrives with a bottle of red wine and Kenma tries his best to enjoy it; tries not to gag as he swallows the expensive vintage and tries not to seem suspicious when he turns down Kuroo’s offer to refill his glass. 

He tries not to squirm in his seat, or look around at the other people too much. He resists the urge to fidget with his hands under the table and he does his best to suppress the skin-crawling feeling of being watched, being judged, being ridiculed, and just not wanting to be here among complete strangers. 

“Kenma?”

He looks up, eyes wide, and meets Kuroo’s concerned gaze. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” Kenma answers too quickly. “I’m fine.”

Kuroo looks unconvinced. “You don’t look fine.”

“Of course I am,” Kenma says with a soft sigh. He gives a small smile, hoping that it’ll be enough. “You don’t have to worry.”

Kuroo still looks apprehensive but he eventually sighs and nods his head. “If you say so.”

Kenma clears his throat pointedly. “So, you were saying about work?”

“Oh,” Kuroo laughs and waves his hand dismissively. “I don’t want to bore you with the details. It’s the same old stuff you’ve heard before. I’d much rather hear about yours.”

Kenma swallows. “Well, it’s...the same as always. I’ve...put out a couple of playthroughs for my channel. Did a couple of streams. Though, there is that thing with Bouncing Ball…”

“Oh  what thing?” Kuroo leans towards him and for once, Kenma wishes that he wouldn’t look at him so intently.

“It’s really nothing.” Kenma shakes his head and laughs weakly. “I can deal with it after the weekend. I’m sure it’ll blow over soon.”

Kuroo frowns. “You sure? ‘Cause you seemed pretty stressed out about it.”

Kenma shakes his head again. “It’ll be fine, I’m sure. I…” He sighs and looks down at the table. “I just need to sleep on it, that’s all.”

“...Kenma, are you sure you’re okay?”

“Why?” Kenma snaps, harsher than he had intended. “I told you, I’m okay.”

Kuroo sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Well it’s just...you’re being kind of...jumpy? The way you get when you’re sort of anxious, you know?”

Kenma’s skin bristles because Kuroo’s exactly right, but he doesn’t want him to say it. “It’s okay,” he says without looking at Kuroo. “I can handle it.”

Kuroo’s concerned gaze won’t leave him. “If there’s something wrong, you can always tell me. You know that, right?”

Kenma sighs in exasperation. “I said I’m fine, Kuro, okay?!”

His voice comes out louder than he had wanted it to, enough to send some heads turning their way, and Kenma shrinks further under their eyes, hunching down into his seat with his head bent, his hair acting like a shield for his face. 

Kuroo sighs wearily. “Okay, you’re definitely not fine.”

Kenma scoffs. “You didn’t have to bring it up.”

“What are you talking about? Of course I had to. I can’t go on pretending that things are fine with you when they aren’t. Now.” Kuroo’s tone is more gentle and he leans forward, giving Kenma his full attention. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

Kenma’s first instinct is to protest and insist once more that there’s nothing wrong, but he looks at Kuroo once and feels his resolve melt away.

Kenma sighs. “I haven’t been sleeping well,” he admits. “Not since we had that mishap with the supplier. It’s been meeting after meeting, phone call after phone call. I’ve had to talk to so many people in the past few days, and it’s really exhausting. Some of them...well, some of them weren’t too happy with me or how I was managing things. I feel like...if I have to have a stranger talk to me like that one more time, I might actually break down.”

Kuroo doesn’t say anything, only keeps his attention on Kenma and his hand over his, rubbing circles with his thumb. 

“I’m sorry.” Kenma sighs heavily. “I just…You went through all this trouble, spent so much time and money, and…I’m only going to ruin it.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Kenma scoffs again, this one more contemptuous than the last. He scowls up at Kuroo. “How are you so sure? I’m not like you.” He stops and his eyes widen before he quickly ducks his head. “Sorry. I— forget I said anything.”

Despite the harshness of Kenma’s earlier tone, Kuroo smiles. “It’s okay. I know you’re not like me. Which is why you need to tell me when you’re not okay. I can’t read your mind. We talked about this, remember?”

Kenma sighs again and closes his eyes. “I know. But I don’t want to ruin this night. Even if it means that I have to act more extroverted than I really am, because it’s what you would want.” 

“...How are you so sure that’s what I want?”

The sudden serious tone in Kuroo’s voice makes Kenma look up in surprise. 

“How are you sure that this is what I want?” Kuroo continues. “Seeing you all uncomfortable and exhausted like this? Kenma, tell me why would I enjoy seeing you this way.”

He sounds almost angry, as if he’s on the precipice of losing his temper, and Kenma knows deep in his heart that Kuroo means well, but this is not helping. His stomach plummets to the floor and his heart wrenches painfully in his chest.

“Kuro—“

“How can you say that you know what I want when you can’t even be honest about what you want?”

Kenma blinks and the roiling mass of anxiety in his stomach suddenly turns to indignation. “What I want?” he says, glaring at Kuroo. “You’re the one who planned all this. You want to talk about what I want? Well it’s not this.”

“And how was I supposed to know?” Kuroo retorts. “You didn’t tell me anything.” He blinks and then sighs, running his hand through his hair. “Sorry. I’m sorry. We should...stop, before we make a scene.”

Kenma’s pretty sure they’ve already made a scene, because some people from the nearby tables quickly duck behind their menus or politely look away when he glances at them. The waiter approaches them with their food, looking wary and more than a little bit nervous.

Before the waiter can make a hasty retreat, Kuroo gestures for him to stay and he reluctantly lingers behind.

“Can we have everything we ordered wrapped up please?” Kuroo says. “We’d like to have it at home instead.”

The waiter blinks. “Um, of course, sir. Wait just a moment.” He gathers up the dishes he had just placed and walks away from their table in a rush, eager to be away.

Kenma stares at Kuroo. “Why?”

Kuroo doesn’t look up at him for a while and when he finally does, the smile he wears looks forced and bitter. “You’re tired, right? I know you’d much rather be at home right now. You can take some of the food with you for dinner.”

Kenma looks at him in surprise. “But...didn’t you want to go see a movie after this? And—“

Kuroo raises his hand and Kenma falls silent. “It’s okay.” His tone is gentle now, low and calm, but it’s still making Kenma’s insides turn. “We can cancel it.”

They’re silent for a long time, neither of them really looking at the other.

“Kuro, I—“

“Don’t be sorry.” Kuroo tries for another smile, this one less successful at masking his exhaustion than the last. “There’s nothing you need to apologize for. It’s work. I get it. These things happen.”

Guilt rises up like bile from the pit of Kenma’s stomach and he tries in vain to swallow it down, even as the bitter taste of it starts to make him sick.

“Sorry,” he mutters anyway, eyes downcast.

“Don’t be,” Kuroo says with a brittle laugh. “If it helps, it’s my fault too. Sorry if I wasn’t thinking about what you want.”

The words lodge into Kenma’s heart like a poisoned arrow and a lump forms in his throat. He’s not sure how long they sit there in complete and utter silence until their bagged food arrives and they’re leaving the restaurant. 

The cool evening air is a blessing compared to the stifling atmosphere of the restaurant and Kenma relishes in it if only to distract from the excruciating silence that follows them all the way to the train station.

Kuroo’s hand is a mere few inches away from his but now it seems cold and distant. They stop in front of the station and Kuroo hands him one of the paper bags from the restaurant.

“Make sure you finish it all,” Kuroo says as if he were talking to a child. “And get some rest.”

Kenma nods as he cradles the paper bag to his chest. He can’t bring himself to look up at Kuroo and meet his eyes. Not like this.

“I’m sorry,” Kenma says again. Kuroo sighs, reaches out to hold Kenma by the back of his head and presses a small and fleeting kiss on his forehead. It barely feels like anything.

“It’s okay,” Kuroo says softly. “We’ll talk when you feel better, okay?”

Kenma nods, still not looking at him.

“Text me when you get home,” Kuroo says before he turns his back on him and begins walking away. Kenma doesn’t have the heart to call or even stare after him.

He boards his train and makes it home, barely remembering to let Kuroo know, although a part of him doesn’t want to purely out of spite. But the guilt outweighs it by a lot and Kenma manages to send a short message reading only ‘home’ to Kuroo before storing the food in his fridge and collapsing into his bed.

Whatever sorry feelings he has are soon forgotten as the weight of his exhaustion catches up to him and pulls him under the deep waves of sleep, and he decides that the overwhelming feeling of guilt in his gut is a problem for tomorrow’s Kenma. 

Chapter Text

He told himself he wouldn’t have coffee before bed.

He knows what happens when he has coffee before bed.

But video editing had taken longer than expected that night and it didn’t occur to Kenma that he probably shouldn’t have made himself a cup of coffee so close to his bedtime until he’d finished his third cup and had saved his work for the night.

Which is how he finds himself lying awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling as he tries in vain to will himself to sleep. He doesn’t want to fall into his old habit of scrolling through his phone or watching videos until his eyes get tired, but the alternative is lying in the dark with nothing but his thoughts keeping him up. Kenma would much rather just mindlessly binge random videos until four AM than have to confront the thoughts that arrive at the forefront of his mind after hours.

Which is how he finds himself lying on his side with his phone in his hands, glaring at his bright white screen as he tries to read through his latest messages. Most of them are DMs from fans who thought they’d try their luck getting him to notice them, but none of them have much to say or anything that interests him, so he leaves them all unanswered, as usual.

Kenma is just about to close the app until something catches his eye. Well, until a name catches his eye rather.

Kuroo’s online.

It’s been awhile since the shopping trip and Kuroo hasn’t reached out to him since. Kenma’s first thought is always that he’s busy, but he’s seen Kuroo online at ungodly hours before this.

He doesn’t know what exactly compels him, if it’s the lateness of the hour giving him a newfound bravery, or if it’s just the annoying caffeine in his system, but he taps on Kuroo’s profile and types out a quick message before hitting send without giving it another thought.

hey. are you awake.

As soon as Kenma sends it, he feels his skin start to crawl with regret and his mind races with panic. He’s in the process of writing out a quick apology when he notices that Kuroo has started typing.

Kenma’s fingers still and he waits with bated breath for Kuroo’s message to appear. It takes him a while and Kenma isn’t sure whether or not he wants to see whatever long reply Kuroo’s sending.

He closes his eyes, as if not looking at it will prevent it from actually happening, but the moment he hears a ping, he opens them again, faced with Kuroo’s reply.

yes but a better question is why are you still up. 

have you been playing your video games again. 

is this another 5 am incident. 

should i be worried.

Kenma doesn’t realize that he’s been holding his breath until he lets it out in relief.

i just can’t sleep.

well, you wanna talk until you feel sleepy?

Kenma pauses, thumb hovering over the text box. But, he decides, he’s the one who initiated it in the first place. Might as well.

if that’s okay with you.

remember when i said that i’d make time for you if you need me?

i meant it.

...oh. thanks.

you’re welcome

sooooo what’re you wearing ;)

Kenma scoffs though something like a small fond smile shows on his face nonetheless.

never mind. this was a bad idea.

kenmaaaa i was joking D: don’t leave me!!

Kenma waits a couple more seconds before replying.

pull stuff like that again and i’m leaving you on read.

:( ok. 

so what’s keeping you up?

i don’t know. 

this just happens sometimes yknow. 

it’s a recurring symptom.

ah i got you. 

but what usually helps?

sometimes i watch videos till i fall asleep.

you know that the brightness from your phone doesn’t help with that right?

then again i’m doing it right now.

and i know you are too.

guilty.

sometimes it’s the only thing that distracts me from my thoughts though.

it’s bad on my eyes but it helps me get to sleep.

sounds rough.

i’m used to it.

you really shouldn’t be.

Kenma pauses, unsure with how to proceed. He bites his lip and watches the blinking bar on his text box, as if that will help him formulate a sentence. Kuroo starts typing again then stops and Kenma imagines him hitting backspace on his words. Somehow, the image of Kuroo struggling to think of something to say as well makes him feel less anxious and there’s less hesitation when he types his next message.

can you maybe just talk to me?

about anything.

as long as you want.

maybe that’ll help me sleep.

There’s a momentary pause between his message and Kuroo’s reply. 

sure.

would it be easier to call you?

maybe i could add in some asmr ;)

please don’t.

:(((

just talk to me like you normally would.

but through text.

okay.

lemme just think of something.

take your time.

Kuroo does take his time. Kenma almost thinks that he’s fallen asleep on him before Kuroo starts typing again.

there’s this cat at my workplace that we feed sometimes. she’s a stray so we just call her Nora.

she doesn’t go near any of the other guys when they feed her. they just leave her food there and she goes to eat it when they leave.

but for some reason she’s more relaxed around me. i’m the only one who can get her to come close when i feed her. 

i’m not saying that the other guys are jealous but i’m pretty sure they wish they could get as close to nora as i can lol.

i think she’d like you too.

she reminds me of you a lot.

show me this cat right now.

Kuroo sends a picture of a brown tabby cat with green eyes hunched over a bowl of dried fish with what Kenma assumes is Kuroo’s hand stroking the top of its head.

she’s cute.

right?

you should adopt her. make her your office mascot or something.

i’d love to but pets aren’t allowed in the building. 

plus my boss has a nasty cat allergy.

aw that’s too bad.

she hasn’t come by the office lately though. i’m kinda worried about her.

although one of my co-workers saw her around nearby and thinks that she’s pregnant.

if she is, are you guys going to do something about the kittens?

well i can’t really take any of them in.

my co-workers might be interested but who’s to say Nora would even let us?

you just want an excuse to get a cat don’t you.

you said it, not me.

honestly i’m surprised you haven’t yet.

didn’t you want to get a place of your own because you wanted to get a cat?

yes but i never found the right time.

or the right excuse apparently lol.

you should come by the office sometime to meet nora.

...can i?

course you can. 

my co-workers bring visitors over all the time.

i don’t know if visiting your office just to see a stray cat is a legitimate excuse.

lol if you’re so worried about that, you can just say that you came to see me work.

or that i invited you.

why would i want to see you work though?

i’m lowkey offended that you wouldn’t wanna see me in all my professional glory.

i mean.

what’s there to see that i haven’t already seen?

i imagine it’s just similar to when you were captain.

what are you talking about this is nothing like when i was captain.

for one thing, i’m not that high up the executive ladder here.

not yet at least.

just keep sending me pictures of nora whenever you see her and i’m good.

lmao gotcha.

There’s a lull in their conversation and Kenma scrambles to think of something to say before Kuroo beats him to it.

ok since you’re obviously not going to admit it yourself, let me be the first to say it.

i really missed this.

this?

you know.

messaging you.

talking to you.

...just talking online?

well obviously i miss talking to you in person too.

but we used to do this all the time right? when we couldn’t talk in person.

it’s almost nostalgic.

it hasn’t been that long.

four years isn’t that long to you?

Kenma sighs. He shuts his phone off for a moment and lets it rest on his chest as he stares up at the ceiling. A ping tells him that Kuroo sent him another message but he ignores it for now.

Four years is long. Much longer than he had thought it would be. But here he is, chatting with Kuroo as if those four years had never happened. It still feels a bit surreal to Kenma, to think that Kuroo is within his reach now when he used to feel like he was miles and miles apart from him, even if realistically he was only ever a few train rides away. 

He allows himself a few more seconds to compose himself before he checks Kuroo’s new messages.

sorry, did i make things awkward again?

want me to keep talking?

or have you fallen asleep?

it’s okay.

you can keep talking if you want.

hmmm actually i wanna hear from you.

????

it’s only fair for you to share a story in return right?

so tell me, what has the great kodzuken been up to these past four years?

if you tuned in to my livestreams, you’d know

oh but i do.

watch your livestreams i mean.

you just don’t see me there ;)

Kenma isn’t sure what embarrasses him more — the fact that Kuroo still watches his livestreams, or the fact that he can’t even tell which username among his regular viewers is Kuroo’s.

besides, i wanna know something no one else does.

something that you don’t tell your subscribers or anyone else.

what is this, an interrogation?

just plain curiosity lol.

...there’s not much to tell.

you already know almost everything about me.

do i now.

we grew up together.

not a lot you can hide from your childhood friend, especially one as nosy as you.

you say that as if we didn’t keep secrets from each other anyway.

??????

i think you’ve forgotten how good you are at keeping secrets from me.

even if we spent so much time together.

there’s gotta be something you haven’t told even me.

Something about him that not even Kuroo knows.

What can he possibly tell Kuroo that won’t embarrass him? That he misses him? That ever since he read his name on the invitation, he can’t stop thinking about him? That he may or may not be entirely over their breakup just yet?

i’m really sleepy now actually. can this wait till next time.

what?!?!

kenma that’s unfair!

you got to hear my touching story about Nora the volleyball association cat and i don’t get to hear anything from you?!??!

that’s hardly an equal exchange.

still.

i wanna know how much has changed with you in four years.

if you’re still the kenma i thought i knew.

what do you mean, you thought you knew??

There’s a significant pause after Kuroo sees Kenma’s message. He doesn’t start typing until a minute later and Kenma wonders if maybe they shouldn’t have had this conversation this late at night.

never mind.

anyways.

sorry for forcing you.

you don’t have to tell me anything if you don’t want to.

...maybe just not this way.

??????

Kenma draws in a deep breath. It’s now or never.

do you wanna meet up again sometime soon?

i might take you up on that offer to practice a bit more.

seriously?

yeah.

maybe then i could tell you more about the me you thought you knew.

well, if you put it that way, how could i ever refuse.

how bout sunday? it’s the only time i’m free this week.

sure.

can we go to that one cafe where we talked the first time?

you really liked that apple pie huh lol.

entirely your fault, might i remind you.

not that i’m complaining.

lol okay.

anyways, early start tomorrow. 

have to hit the hay soon so i’ll talk to you then.

can’t wait.

to see me ;)?

or that apple pie

Both.

no, i can’t wait for more pictures of nora.

and that apple pie.

:((((

good night kuro.

good night kenma <3

gross </3

>:(

And just so you know, I missed this too, Kenma types before he hits backspace hard and exits out of the conversation. He shuts off his phone, places it by his pillow and turns his back on it, closing his eyes and telling himself for the last time not to pick it up again and just go to sleep.

But then his phone lights up and there’s a soft ping and Kenma turns over and grabs it in one quick motion, unlocking it as fast as lightning.

hey.

isn’t this kind of like you’re asking me out for a date ;)

Kenma feels his face go hot. He scrambles for a reply but any word he manages to write out is quickly discarded. His constant retyping doesn’t seem to escape Kuroo’s notice.

oya?

is our little kenma actually flustered? ;)))

no i was just wondering whether or not to even bother with a reply.

really ;)

yes.

i thought you were going to bed.

i was but i just needed you to know that if this really is a date, i don’t mind ;)))

it’s not.

a date.

sure ;)

i’m not entertaining this notion any further.

good night.

good night, kenma.

;)))

it’s still a date to me though.

“It is NOT a date,” Kenma says into the darkness of his room. He sighs and buries his phone under his pillow, hoping that it’ll be enough to muffle the sound of any more incoming messages.

Kenma turns over and closes his eyes determinedly, telling himself over and over again that it isn’t a date, even as his heart flutters traitorously at the thought.

****

Their aborted romantic dinner at the fancy restaurant that Kenma is still mortified of entering is the last real date they have in a while.

The seasons change from the cozy chill of autumn to the more penetrating and frigid cold of winter, and with it, their workloads pile up like the snow that fell the night before and blanketed Kenma’s whole yard in white, making him retreat even further into his solitary work-at-home life.

It’s been three weeks since their date and while they’ve made up with each other and apologized, it’s still a touchy subject for them both. Since then, Kuroo hasn’t pulled any grand romantic gestures of that scale. They agreed to stick to their usual Friday night stay-in dates for now, not only because of the incident but because neither of them can really afford to dine in a place like that at the moment.

Now that Kenma thinks about it, it’s been a couple of days since he saw Kuroo last. Their schedules don’t often line up, except perhaps during the weekend, and depending on how busy they are, they could go days without ever seeing each other in person. But, at the very least, they still have time to message each other.

While Kenma is content with a simple ‘good morning’ when he gets up and a ‘good night’ when he goes to bed, Kuroo always goes the extra mile and sends entire paragraphs detailing how his day went and other such inane matters. Kenma doesn’t mind it. He finds that it’s easier to organize his thoughts through text and it’s not like they aren’t used to this. Besides, it helps to keep him close even when they can’t physically be with each other, and he knows that even if his replies are short compared to Kuroo’s, it helps Kuroo to know that he reads his messages and misses him just as much.

Kenma sends Kuroo a quick morning greeting along with a picture of his breakfast so Kuroo will get off his case about it before he clocks in for the day, which is really just him locking himself in his study without his phone and forbidding himself from going out for anything other than bathroom breaks and food. Kenma knows himself enough to understand that having his phone somewhere nearby is only a chance at procrastination just waiting to happen, so he usually keeps it out of sight or in another room entirely to stop himself from getting distracted.

This time, Kenma puts his phone face down on his bedside table, silencing it for good measure, before he makes his way to his study, sits down in front of his computer, and starts work. It’s mostly the usual today 一 editing videos, updating his social media, getting in touch with his regular workers and freelancers for Bouncing Ball, and maybe if he has time later, a bit of filming or streaming, whichever he feels like doing more.

The sun has long since set by the time Kenma ‘clocks out’ of work and makes dinner. Kenma almost falls asleep at his kotatsu, his dirty plate still in front of him. Although he’s loathe to leave the wonderful warmth of the kotatsu, he forces himself to get up and into the bath before collapsing into his bed and wrapping himself up in the comforter till he feels warm enough again. His phone lies on the bedside table right where he had left it, still facedown and still on silent.

Kenma doesn’t pick it up again till the next day, when the alarm he had set rings and he pulls himself out of bed, moaning and groaning at the early hour. His eyes widen when he realizes that he had missed a few messages from Kuroo, including one from this morning, and he sends him a quick apology along with his customary morning greeting.

As soon as he’s finished with breakfast, Kenma gets an urgent call for work and it’s another day spent entirely in his study with nothing but his computer in front of him. There’s more messages from Kuroo when Kenma checks his phone later in the evening to order takeout, too drained to bother cooking for himself. Kenma sends a rather clipped response, shorter than his standard ones, and takes a short nap under his delightfully warm kotatsu, nearly missing the call from the delivery guy when he falls into a much deeper sleep than he had intended.

Kenma doesn’t notice that something is wrong with the food until he’s halfway through his box of steamed rice. All it takes is one bite and then suddenly what had previously been a decent meal seems to have gone completely stale in his mouth and Kenma pauses in his chewing, his neutral expression immediately turning into one of disgust as he forces himself to swallow the food just so he doesn’t have to taste any more of it. The sauce is slimy and almost gelatin-like and he’s fairly sure the meat is either undercooked or had just gone bad somewhere along the line.

In the end, he leaves a significant portion of the meal uneaten and after much consideration, decides to throw it all out. There’s no sense in keeping them around for leftovers when it already tastes bad enough as it is. 

That night, he ends up falling asleep in front of his computer, the monitor left on for hours, and when a rather confused Kenma wakes up with the imprint of his sleeve on his cheek, he doesn’t think about his phone still sitting on the kotatsu in his living room. He has much more urgent matters to deal with first一 namely the uncomfortable, almost painful, definitely not normal ache in his stomach and the overwhelming urge to throw up.

Kenma barely makes it to the bathroom before any accidents happen and by the time he gets out, about fifteen minutes later, there’s no doubt in his mind that he’s got food poisoning.

Thinking quickly, he marches to the living room and picks up his phone to search for a quick remedy, skimming right over the messages Kuroo sent him last night, and after he’s consulted the internet, delegated his tasks to other people and taken some of the stomach medicine he has left in his medicine cabinet, Kenma falls into his bed and curls up into a ball, moaning at the tight pain in his belly.

He’s not sure how he manages to fall asleep through it, if the medicine had made him drowsy or if sleeping was the only way to distract himself from the stomachache, but the next time Kenma wakes, it’s dark outside his window and the turmoil in his stomach seems to have calmed down somewhat, enough at least for him to realize that he’s hungry again.

He empties the remains of the horrible Chinese takeout into his toilet for what he hopes is the last time then drags his feet all the way to the kitchen. By some miracle, he finds leftovers that are still good chilling in his fridge and heats it all up before settling down into his kotatsu to eat. There’s still an unpleasant aftertaste in his mouth that makes it hard to enjoy the food but Kenma manages to finish it all this time and just for good measure, takes some medicine again afterwards. 

He forgets his phone on the kotatsu and rushes back into bed after he’s put away the dishes, wanting nothing more than to pass out again, and falls asleep almost as soon as his head hits his pillow. 

Kenma feels instantly better the next day but decides to sleep in, unwilling to leave his bed until the afternoon, when his bladder and his stomach get the better of him. After a much-needed shower, Kenma finds his phone on his kotatsu, overflowing with not only messages from work but messages from Kuroo, along with a few missed calls. 

Kenma sighs and manages to type out a quick ‘sorry. couldn’t talk.’ to Kuroo before answering the innumerable work inquiries in his inbox and preparing himself once more for another long day in his study catching up to the work he had missed while he had been sick. The whole thing is a blur of words and faces and as soon as he reaches a good enough stopping point, Kenma decides to take a short nap, setting his phone alarm for thirty minutes later before he leans back against his den chair and closes his eyes, feeling like an old man taking a nap on his porch on a hot summer day. 

Kenma wakes to the sound of both his doorbell and knocking at his front door, urgent and frantic. He sits up and looks around his dark room blearily, not even knowing what time it is. He yawns and stretches his arms above his head before reaching for his phone, vaguely registering the newer onslaught of messages from Kuroo before he hears Kuroo’s voice calling from outside his house. 

“Kenma! Are you in there? Can you hear me?!”

Kenma yawns. “Coming!” he calls back lazily, taking his sweet time as he rises out of his chair, does a couple of stretches, then pads out of his study towards the front door.

Kuroo’s still knocking, sounding much more desperate and hurried, and only then does it occur to Kenma that something must be wrong. He unlocks the deadbolt and pulls the door open, peeking out through the small crack to reveal a panting, very nervous-looking Kuroo standing on his doorstep. 

“Kenma!”

Kuroo shoves himself through the door and throws his arms around Kenma, breathing a deep sigh of relief. “Thank God you’re safe!”

Kenma frowns and pushes Kuroo away just enough to see his face. “What do you mean safe? What did you think happened to me?”

“Why didn’t you answer my calls?!” The relief on Kuroo’s face quickly dissolves into anger as he grips Kenma by the shoulders. “Not even a single message?! What were you doing?!”

“What are you doing here?” Kenma retorts, taking in the distinct flush of Kuroo’s face and the sweat plastering his hair to his forehead despite the cold outside. “I didn’t ask you to come.”

A pained expression passes over Kuroo’s face. “That’s exactly why I’m here. You wouldn’t tell me what was going on. Remember? I kept asking you what you were up to or what you were busy with but you wouldn’t answer me, and when I tried to call, you wouldn’t pick up.”

In truth, Kenma hadn’t actually absorbed any of the messages Kuroo had sent him and had spared them one second at most before either ignoring them or sending a one word reply. He can’t even remember at what points he had bothered to reply at all. 

Kenma sighs and looks away. “I was busy with work. I thought I made that clear.”

Kuroo frowns. “All you’d say is ‘sorry’ or ‘can’t talk’ or nothing at all. I can see when you’ve read my messages you know.”

“I keep my phone away from me when I’m working. You know that.”

“But you always reply after a certain time, especially after you’re done for the day, and nothing this short.”

“How is that any different from what I usually message you?”

Kuroo’s frown deepens. “It’s never that short. Trust me, I know.”

Kenma steps back and scowls up at Kuroo. “I was just busy, okay? And then I got food poisoning, so I一”

“Food poisoning?!”

Kuroo grabs Kenma by the shoulders again and stares at him, horrified. “Kenma, you were sick?!”

“I-It’s not that big of a deal!” Kenma says as he tries to shove Kuroo’s hands off his shoulders. “Kuro, you’re hurting me, stop一”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Kenma’s mouth flaps open and closed helplessly before he blurts out, “I-I didn’t think it was that serious, honestly. It was just a stomachache and maybe some vomiting and then一 “

“But it could have been serious!” Kuroo argues, sounding both frustrated and exhausted. “You took medicine, right? Were you nauseous? It didn’t hurt too much? Did you一 ”

“God, you’re so annoying!” Kenma spits out before he can think, forcefully pushing Kuroo’s hands off his shoulders. “It was nothing, I swear! I’m fine now, aren’t I?!”

“Kenma, I was worried!” Kuroo says. He takes one step closer to Kenma who takes a step back in turn. “I didn’t know what was going on with you! I just assumed the worst and as soon as I felt that something was wrong, I came here as fast as I could一 ”

“So that’s why you’re here,” Kenma interrupts, scathing. “Because you jumped to your own conclusions without even understanding the whole picture.”

Kuroo’s shoulders seem to tense up in indignation. “Well, sorry for just being concerned! Sorry for being right about it too, as if you being sick isn’t something to be worried about!”

The sudden rise of volume and anger in Kuroo’s voice makes Kenma cringe and want to curl in on himself but he takes in a deep breath and says in a much more level tone, “But nothing happened to me, right? I know how to take care of myself, Kuro, and I don’t need to tell you everything.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows. “So you’re not even going to tell me when you’re sick, when you need someone else to help and look after you?”

“I keep telling you, it wasn’t that big of a deal!” Kenma says. “You’re acting like I was on the brink of death or something.”

“Because you could have been!” Kuroo nearly yells back and Kenma cringes again. “You’re lucky it was just food poisoning this time but what if it had been something else? What if your symptoms just got worse and it turned out to be something really bad?”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “You’re blowing this way out of proportion. I told you already, it was nothing.”

Kuroo sighs exasperatedly and runs his hands through his hair. He’s quiet for a moment before he sighs again and straightens up. “Okay. Yeah, maybe I am overreacting. But you have to understand where this is all coming from. I care about you a lot, Kenma, and I don’t think I could forgive myself if I ever let anything bad happen to you.”

Kenma’s face softens. “I know. I get that, but you still didn't have to go all this way. Don’t you think I would know when I can’t do things by myself? I’m not too proud to ask for help from other people, least of all from you.” He pauses and looks up at Kuroo, meeting his gaze. “Do you really trust me that little?”

The words seem to strike Kuroo right in the heart and he can do nothing but stare back at Kenma. “Kenma, you know I trust you with my life,” he says feebly, subdued. “This isn’t a question about whether or not I trust your judgment. The fact is that you could have just as easily told me that you were okay and didn’t need my help and I would have trusted you enough to leave you alone after that. You’re never going to stop me from worrying, but if you say that you can handle it yourself, then I’ll believe you.” He’s quiet for a long moment and his expression turns cold and hard. “I could ask you the same question. Is this how little you actually trust me?”

Kenma’s gut twists painfully inside him and he grimaces. “Kuro, I一”

“Answer me then. Prove me wrong.”

Kenma groans and buries his face in his hands. “God, I can’t take this anymore. I’m sorry, okay?” He looks up at Kuroo. “I really am. I shouldn’t have ignored you and I should have told you what was going on no matter how trivial it seemed to me. I’m sorry.”

They’re silent for a while and gradually, Kuroo’s face softens. He sighs and nods his head. “I’m sorry too. My first instinct was to get angry at you when I should have tried to hear you out.”

Kenma shakes his head. “Don’t be sorry about that. You’re right to be angry with me. I made you worry and made you come all the way here. Everything I said about you overreacting was just an excuse. I know that you just can’t help but worry.”

The atmosphere is heavy, the tension in the air being pulled taut like a string. Kuroo smiles faintly. “I can never stay mad at you, kitten. I guess the stress from the work really did get to me ‘cause I don’t think I would have normally gotten as mad as I did.”

Kenma keeps his gaze downward, unsure what to say, and the silence seems to stretch on for hours. Kuroo lays his hand gently over Kenma’s. “I should get back,” he says softly. “I kind of ran out in the middle of my break and I’ve probably stayed out for too long.”

The guilt inside Kenma builds up and he closes his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he says again. “I really am.”

“It’s okay,” Kuroo says, though it doesn’t sound entirely sincere to Kenma. “I get it. You were busy. So was I.”

Kenma nods. “Are…Are we still good for Friday?”

Kuroo is quiet, expression unreadable once more. He sighs and rubs his neck, looking away. “Sorry, it’s kinda ironic now, but…I kinda want to rest for a bit after this week.”

The bottom of Kenma’s stomach drops but he nods his head. “Yeah. Okay. I understand.”

Kuroo reaches out and brushes a strand of hair away from Kenma’s face. “Hey,” he says, voice much gentler and more genuine than before. “I love you, okay? Make no mistake about that.”

Kenma sighs. “I know. Me too.”

Kuroo pecks him lightly on the lips before he turns, gives one last wave and leaves.

Kenma watches his figure walk out the front gate and turn the street corner before he closes the front door and sinks down to the floor, leaning his back against it. He brings his knees up to his body and rests his head on them. He doesn’t move from his spot for a while, even as his phone rings with even more unanswered messages一 whether from Kuroo or otherwise, he can’t tell or can’t bring himself to care. 

Chapter Text

Kenma doesn’t want to seem too eager for their non-date so for once, he tarries along the way to the cafe. It’s at least ten minutes past their meeting time when he arrives but he’s still the first one there. He orders a slice of the apple pie and finds a vacant table for them, busying himself with his Switch as he waits for Kuroo.

Kenma doesn’t want to admit, even to himself, that he’s been looking forward to their non-date all week. It seems to be the only thing he can think of outside of work. He could be having a perfectly good evening not thinking about Kuroo and his stupid face and his stupid three piece suit but something always pops up to remind him.

Usually it’s the random messages he gets from Kuroo throughout the day. Their late night phone conversation had apparently made it clear to Kuroo that texting him about the most inane things wasn’t off limits anymore. They don’t talk nearly as often as they used to before, only every other day or two, but it’s enough that soon, Kuroo becomes a constant in Kenma’s everyday routine, and thoughts of him even more so.

For his part, Kenma pretends to only be in it for the pictures of Nora the Volleyball Association Cat, which is partially true. Almost every day he’s at the office, Kuroo sends him a picture of Nora, and if Kenma didn’t know any better, it’s probably just a thinly veiled excuse to keep sending him messages. 

And it’s working. That’s what Kenma hates the most about it.

Their topics naturally stray away from how cute Nora is or how fat she’s getting towards other things like what they had for lunch or how their work has been or that one annoying co-worker who won’t stop snidely asking Kuroo who he keeps texting on his breaks. They don’t even sound like they’re exes at this point. Far from it. The way they go about talking to each other, nobody would have thought that they had lost touch for four years, or that they ever had a falling out.

Kenma doesn’t realize that he had forgotten what it felt like to have a best friend until he’s talking to Kuroo again.

He’s still not sure if he can call him that 一 his best friend. They never did address whether or not they were still friends at least. Their past relationship certainly speaks for itself but the way they are now is different. Right now, they inhabit an ambiguous middle area between friends and ex-lovers; not quite one or the other. Too much shared history to just be friends but too friendly with each other to be bitter exes. 

But Kenma isn’t in any rush to figure all of that out at the moment. Whatever they have going on right now, even if it’s uncertain and ambiguous and altogether temporary, is enough for him. 

It’s familiar, waking up to a new message from Kuroo, going to sleep with his phone in his hand still in the middle of a conversation with him. Kenma wonders how he could have forgotten what it felt like to have a best friend like Kuroo when their youth had been filled with moments like these. 

Suddenly Kenma feels like he’s in high school again; walking to and from school with Kuroo, inviting Kuroo over to dinner or being invited to Kuroo’s house for dinner when his parents weren’t home; playing video games in his room till Kuroo got bored and took him out to play volleyball; sleepovers at each other’s houses where they could stay up for hours just talking till one of them (usually Kenma) eventually dropped off to sleep; Kuroo poking and prodding him awake the next morning and threatening to body slam him if he didn’t wake up and have breakfast at that exact moment.

And when Kuroo went off to college and Kenma became a third-year in Nekoma, he remembers the frequent text messages and phone calls that would arrive in the middle of class or during volleyball practice; the meet-ups every other weekend oftentimes ending with Kuroo spending the night at Kenma’s place just so they could have more time together; the rare moments when Kuroo, sometimes accompanied by Kai and Yaku, would show up to volleyball practice to see how the new team was doing, Kuroo cheering them on from the stands at all their official matches, and all the sudden late night calls that would last till early morning because Kuroo was homesick and just missed him so much and wanted to hear his voice before he went crazy.

Kenma could almost fool himself into thinking that the way things are right now aren’t any different from how they were back then. There’s a very familiar ache that makes itself known everytime Kenma recalls the memories, as if someone is wringing his stomach like a towel or like there’s tender soreness where a broken bone or a sprain had been.

After they broke up, any recollection concerning Kuroo was always accompanied by a sharp pain, every image of his face cruel and every thought of what they had been unbearable. But now, while the pain has never really gone away, it feels more like a dull bruise than an open bleeding wound.

Because Kuroo is in his life again. He’s talking to him again, acting like nothing ever went wrong, and while it still feels superficial at times, Kenma prefers it over the alternative of having none of their old banter and closeness back at all. 

He’s not as nervous this time. In fact, he’s surprised to find that he’s hardly nervous at all. Even when he’s meeting up with old friends from Nekoma, there’s always at least a little anxiety before he goes into it. But that isn’t the case with Kuroo. It never has been, he realizes, not since they were kids. Kuroo was always different, even back then. He’s not sure if it’s because they’ve known each other for so long or if it’s just the simple fact that he feels like he doesn’t need to be nervous around Kuroo, like he can talk to him about anything and for as long as he wants without ever feeling like he’s being judged or only tolerated, but actually being listened to. It’s just another familiar feeling that occasionally stings but not as much as before. 

And when Kuroo gets there only a few minutes after he does, even the way they greet each other is familiar and so is the way Kuroo sits down with a sigh and talks about the most recent mishap at work, shrugging off his jacket in the process to drape it over the back of his chair. Kenma is mostly quiet, simply nodding along to Kuroo’s words or dropping a few comments here and there, but he feels no pressure to keep the conversation rolling along, just letting Kuroo talk for as long as he wants, and this is familiar too, bringing to mind all the idle late afternoons when they’d just hang out somewhere after school or during the weekends.

“So I was thinking,” Kuroo says, bringing Kenma out of his thoughts, “since we’re supposed to be together, should we refresh our memories a bit and see how well we still remember things?”

Kenma raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Kuroo shrugs. “What if someone asks us how we met, or how long we’ve been together? Would you remember?”

“Of course I do,” Kenma replies. “We met when we were kids. You moved in next door and got me into volleyball. After that, you wouldn’t leave me alone.”

Kuroo scoffs. “Says the person who went along with it anyway.”

Kenma rolls his eyes and resists the urge to smile. “Do you remember how long we’re supposed to be together?”

Kuroo hums thoughtfully. “About ten years or so? We got together after I graduated and it’s been ten years since then.”

Kenma pauses and puts his fork down. Ten years. “Wow,” he says. “It’s been that long?”

“You didn’t realize that?” Kuroo says, amused. “It’s astounding, I know. How many unmarried couples have you heard of have been together for a decade and have known each other for even longer than that?”

Well, if they’re being honest, they were only together for six years, but they’re not here to be honest, are they? Although, for all intents and purposes, he supposes that it’s not actually a lie if they say that they’ve known each other for well over a decade. The trick is in the wording. 

“Do you remember the university I went to?” Kuroo asks and Kenma nods and replies a beat later, “Tokai University, and you were taking sports management. Do you remember where I went?”

“Kanagawa University,” Kuroo says with a smile. “Business administration, if I’m not mistaken. I specifically remember you wanting to go to a university near mine so we could see each other in our free periods.”

Kenma snorts. “And miraculously, I passed the entrance exams. I remember your first apartment too.”

Kuroo throws his head back and laughs. “How could I forget? You wouldn’t stop complaining about how tiny it was every time you came over. It was a six tatami room with only one bedroom and one bathroom. The living room and the kitchen were basically one area and you didn’t like how cramped the bathroom was.”

Kenma laughs softly. “It’s because you’re so goddamn tall, anytime we had to squeeze into the bathroom or the bedroom together, you’d take up most of the space.”

“Hey,” Kuroo says. “Sorry if I was six-two and growing. What’s it like being in your late twenties and only reaching five-seven at the most?”

Kenma shoots him a look. “At least I’m around the average. You’re too tall for this country. You have to bend your knees to go in anywhere, and I do mean anywhere.”

Kuroo snorts. “Okay, touche. Anyways, you still live in that fancy new house you moved into when you entered college? The one with the home theatre and your own recording room?”

Kenma nods. “And I assume you still live in the same apartment you moved into after you graduated and got the job at the volleyball association.”

“Actually I live somewhere else now,” Kuroo says. “Still near the office but in a much nicer neighbourhood. You remember that middle aged woman who used to live next door? The one who’d give me her leftover food sometimes?”

“You mean the one who so obviously had a crush on you?” Kenma replies with a smirk. “You can tell that she was totally using the leftovers as an excuse to see you. If I wasn’t around so often, she would have probably made a move.”

Kuroo frowns. “Really? I thought she was just being nice.”

Kenma snorts. “Sure, but you were saying?”

“She moved out about three years ago and this young couple moved in a few weeks later. They wouldn’t stop fighting and then having some really aggressive sex afterwards nearly every night. Around a week after they moved in, I decided that I couldn’t take any more of it and just packed everything I owned and found a new place. I feel sorry for whoever replaced me.” He pauses and his smile falters for a second. “Plus there were too many memories associated with the place. You understand, right?”

Kenma winces and looks down at his hands. “Yeah.”

“Anyways!” Kuroo continues, tone much brighter than before. “What else should we catch up on?”

Kenma stirs his hot drink for a moment, thinking, before he chuckles. “Do your dad and your grandparents still live in the same place? I heard from my parents that your dad recently got a new job in another city.”

“Oh, yeah,” Kuroo nods. “He still lives in the same house, though he always has one hell of a commute every day. Still, I heard the pay is good. Wouldn’t your parents have told you if my family moved out?”

Kenma shrugs. “It’s been a while since they told me anything about your family.”

Kuroo hums and stares at him thoughtfully. “You know they still ask about you.”

“Who does?” Kenma asks with a frown.

“My family,” Kuroo replies. “Especially my grandmother. She won’t stop asking what you’re up to or where you are whenever I go for a visit. She’s very worried about you.”

Kenma fidgets with his fingers, suddenly feeling very guilty for making Kuroo’s sweet old grandmother worry over him like that. “What do you tell them?”

“I just say that you’re fine, or too busy with work to come by. But I’ll admit, I’m surprised you don’t visit your parents a lot, even on holidays. It’s kind of weird that we don’t run into each other every Christmas or New Years.”

“Ah.” That’s because I don’t usually stay at my parents’ for long and when I have to, I always ask my mom if you’re staying over at your place too and I always make sure to go home when I know that you won’t be there. “I’ve been getting them to come visit me at my place instead of me going over to theirs every Christmas and New Years for the past couple years. I just tell them that I’m too busy to spend too much time away from home. They probably think it’s just a coincidence that you’re not around when they are.”

Kuroo doesn’t look entirely convinced but he smiles all the same. “Sure. A coincidence. Don’t they ask about me?”

“All the time,” Kenma says with a roll of his eyes. “It’s always ‘you should invite Tetsu-kun over’ or ‘Tetsu-kun just visited home lately, why didn’t you go with him?’ Honestly, it’s a miracle they haven’t tried to get us in the same room together the last four years.”

Kuroo chuckles and raises his brows. “I’m surprised your mom believes any excuse you tell her. I swear, that woman can see right through anything.”

“Oh she knows,” Kenma says. “I know she does. But for some reason, she doesn’t say anything. Half the reason why I get away with my excuses is because she convinces my dad to just go along with it. They suspect something’s up, or at least my mom does, but to be honest, I’m surprised they haven’t talked to me about it either.”

Kuroo hums. “They probably think it’s not their place to interfere. I know my dad thinks so. But he probably thinks that they’re all isolated incidents that just so happen to occur during the winter holidays, and not some ongoing...thing.” He pauses. “He tells me that you visit sometimes and bring souvenirs but you don’t stay for long.”

Kenma nods. “My parents make me go over to say hi to your family whenever I visit home. That’s all.” He trails off and he fidgets with the hem of his shirt for a moment before saying, “B-But, uhh, tell your grandmother the next time you see her that I’m doing fine and that I hope she and your grandfather are doing well too.”

Kuroo smiles, soft and genuine. “Sure thing. Though, I don’t see why you can’t just tell her that yourself. We’re on speaking terms again, aren’t we? I don’t see why you have to keep avoiding them like this.”

Kenma looks up at him with uncertainty. “ Are we close enough again?”

The expression on Kuroo’s face is blank and unreadable before he sighs and shrugs. “Probably not, but it’s been a lot better than it was a year ago, don’t you think?”

It has been a lot better. In fact, Kenma can’t stop thinking about how much their relationship has improved in the last few weeks. From four years of dead silence straight into frequent texts and even casual meet-ups like this. If anyone had told him last year that he’d be talking to Kuroo again in a few months, he wouldn’t have believed them. And yet, here they are.

Kenma nods and looks away. “I guess I can tell my parents I’ll be coming home for Christmas this year.”

Kuroo grins. “And I’ll tell my family that you’ll be over. I’m sure grandma’ll be pleased. She might even bake you a pie for the occasion.”

Kenma smiles as he lifts his cup and takes a drink. “That would be nice actually.”

It’s not lost on him that visiting Kuroo’s family for Christmas would require them acting in front of their own parents too, even after the wedding’s over, but Kenma pushes it out of his mind for the moment.

“So have you got any more questions for me or should I go ahead and ask you?” Kuroo says after a while.

“Hit me.”

“Do you even remember when our anniversary is?”

They both fall silent for a while until Kenma draws in a deep breath and says, “Yes, I do.”

Kuroo straightens up in his seat, looking genuinely surprised. “You do?”

Kenma nods and keeps his gaze on the table, not sure if he can trust himself to look straight at Kuroo without getting embarrassed. “January, right after the Spring Interhigh. We had just lost to Karasuno. We were back in the gym at Nekoma and you had just made your last big speech as captain.” 

He gives a small laugh, tucking a strand of his hair behind his ear. “You told yourself you wouldn’t cry while you talked but everyone could see that you were tearing up. Yaku-san wouldn’t stop teasing you about it, even though he looked like he was about to cry too. But surprisingly, you both held it in until you passed the captainship on. We had just cleaned up the gym but the regular members of the team wanted to play one last game so we did. We promised coach Nekomata that we’d clean up and lock the gym after so he let us stay.”

He stops and looks up to find Kuroo staring and listening to him intently, arms crossed over his chest. “Go on,” he urges.

“Well,” Kenma continues, “there was a lot of sentimental stuff going on that night. I don’t want to get that into it, but Tora totally cried. He denies it to this day but he did, I saw. Anyways, everyone eventually had to go home and they left one by one till it was just the two of us. I...get the feeling the others wanted to leave the two of us alone specifically.”

Kenma looks up at Kuroo, as if looking for confirmation, and Kuroo nods. 

“So it was just us two,” Kenma says, “and you kept asking for toss after toss and I just kept tossing to you again and again. It felt like when we were kids and we’d play by the river after school. I was really tired and I know you were too but when you kept asking for a toss, I couldn’t refuse. Then at one point, you just stopped. You turned to me and said that you were going to Tokai and you asked me what I was going to do from now on. I…” 

Kenma trails off and closes his eyes. “I said that I didn’t know anything for certain but I told you that I was going to keep playing volleyball even after you were gone. You seemed relieved but then you told me that there was something else you wanted to tell me. And then…”

Kenma recreates the scene in his mind. The reflection of the bright fluorescent lights on the shiny gym floor, the squeaking of their rubber soles against the surface, the volleyballs littered all around them, the sound of their labored breathing echoing loud and clear in the room, Kuroo’s sweat-slicked back making his shirt stick to his skin, and the way he turned around to look at him, slow and deliberate, and the way he had smiled at him then, sweat still dripping around his face and hair matted against his forehead, and the way he had said his name then, low and shaky but determined. 

“...And then?”

“And then you told me that you liked me,” Kenma says with a sigh, “that you have for a long time now, maybe even when we were still kids, that before you had even realized it, you had fallen for me but you didn’t expect me to reciprocate or anything, you just wanted to let me know. And…”

Kenma didn’t need to say anymore. Kuroo clears his throat in front of him and Kenma looks up. There’s a distinct redness to Kuroo’s face but also a soft nostalgic smile. “You just told me that we should go home before we cleaned up the gym. I was just locking the doors when you held out your hand and I wasn’t sure what you meant until you just grabbed my hand and dragged me along.” 

Kuroo laughs and rests his elbow on the table, his chin in his hand. “It snowed that night. Do you remember? The weather report said that there was no way it was going to snow that day but it did anyway, just as we were walking home too. You don’t know this but a snowflake landed on the top of your head at one point. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.” 

Kenma nods. “I remember that. It didn’t last long though, probably only about twenty minutes or so.”

Kuroo chuckles. “Still. It was nice while it lasted.”

They both lapse into silence before Kuroo awkwardly clears his throat once more and tries for his usual suave and easygoing grin. “Well, didn’t expect you to paint me the whole picture there, but I’m glad that you still remember.”

Kuroo is quiet for a moment as he takes a sip of his drink, then a smile blooms across his face. “I remember a lot better now. I thought you had rejected me so I was all up in my room feeling sorry for myself until you texted me out of nowhere and asked if I wanted to hang out tomorrow. I didn’t realize that you were actually asking me on a date until I showed up and you started being weird about everything, like wanting to hold my hand or blushing everytime I so much as glanced at you.”

Kenma could feel his face heat up right now just remembering it and he scowls at Kuroo indignantly. “I didn’t know how else to say it, okay? You know I was terrible at verbalizing it.”

“Still are, apparently.” Kuroo smirks. “I didn’t get that it wasn’t a pity date until you kissed me square on the lips after. And then you got all embarrassed because you were certain that your parents could see us from your living room window but I didn’t care.”

Kenma rolls his eyes but can’t keep the smile from his face. “Yeah and then of course it was your dad who saw us and when you got home, he sat you down and gave you the sex talk. You, his eighteen year old son who has most definitely heard about sex by then.”

Kuroo laughs, loud and full-bodied, and Kenma is relieved that the tension in the air seems to have alleviated just a bit. 

“He gave me another talk when he heard that you were going to a university near Tokai,” Kuroo says. “Wouldn’t leave it alone until I promised that I wouldn’t let it get in the way of our studies and that we’d keep it safe.”

Kenma scoffs. “You forgot the part where he tells you, his twenty year old son, that you weren’t allowed to move in with me because he trusted me to do things right but he didn’t trust you.”

“Okay, honestly, fair,” Kuroo says. “He kind of had a point.”

Their eyes meet for a brief second and that’s all it takes before they both burst out into soft, poorly concealed laughter. 

“Ah, simpler times,” Kuroo says once the laughter has subsided.

“Stop that, you sound like an old man,” Kenma says, suppressing a smile.

“That’s because I am one,” Kuroo replies and places a hand over his chest, looking away in mock wistfulness. “Just a sad, tired old man who constantly feels the years slipping away from me every second I spend recalling them.”

Their laughter soon trails off into another bout of silence and Kenma coughs and stirs up the last remaining dredges of his drink lying at the bottom of his cup. 

“Do you一” Kuroo begins then cuts himself off. “I mean, do you ever一” He sighs. “Do you ever think about how easy it all used to be? Just...being swamped with college and responsibilities and what have you but still somehow having the time to see each other enough times throughout the day? Never feeling like you were drifting apart even when you haven’t seen each other in person for so long?”

Kenma’s hands still and he withdraws his hands closer to himself, clenching them into fists in his lap. They’re skirting a very sensitive topic right now and he’s not sure what Kuroo is trying to get from this, whether he wants to address this now or if it’s just a passing thought.

He must have sensed how heavy the air became after his question because Kuroo smiles and says, “Never mind. Forget I asked. Anyway, I...should probably get going.”

“Already?” Kenma regrets the way his voice came out as soon as he says it because even though he is a bit disappointed, he doesn’t want Kuroo to know that. 

“Yeah,” Kuroo nods as he gets to his feet. He gives him an apologetic look. “I have some work to catch up to.”

Kenma nods. “All right. I should get going too.” 

They walk out of the cafe together and stop at the street corner, each of them heading in different directions. 

“Hey,” Kuroo says and leans in close, much too close for Kenma’s liking. He smirks. “Next time you feel like talking to me, you don’t have to think of an excuse.”

Kenma blinks. “Oh. Okay.”

Kuroo gives him one last smile and a wave before he turns and walks down the street. He does turn to look back at him, blinks in surprise when he sees Kenma still staring at him and quickly turns back to look ahead of him, his pace picking up before he disappears around a street corner.

****

It’s their anniversary and Kenma is spending it alone.

The Spring Interhigh is in full swing and watching it from his television brings back a lot of memories, some a lot less pleasant than others but still pretty nostalgic. Kenma knows he’s probably not going to see Kuroo on camera since the focus is mostly on the court where all the players are but he hopes all the same that he can catch a glimpse of him, even if it’s only half a second, just so he can say that he saw him on their anniversary.

His phone lies cold and silent on the kotatsu top where it has been for the couple hours, ironically devoid of any messages or calls from Kuroo in the last twenty-four hours, and Kenma sighs before he gets up, turns the television off, picks up his phone and makes his way to his gaming room.

As much as he wants to see how the new teams from each school are doing, he’s not sure he can sit through the entire program without feeling a little bitter about the fact that Kuroo’s there and not here with him. Even though it’s a weekend and it’s their anniversary and Kuroo hasn’t let on once that he remembers.

But Kenma feels bad for even feeling that way. They knew their anniversary is always going to be near when the Interhigh starts and Kuroo’s job as a member of the Japan Volleyball Association often requires him to scout out promising new talent among the high school teams or in some cases even help with organizing the whole thing.

He knows he shouldn’t resent him for it. He knows how important Kuroo’s job is to him and how much he loves doing what he does. Besides, he can’t really complain after he literally ignored Kuroo for days to focus on doing his own job. So Kenma keeps his mouth shut, tells him good luck and prepares himself for a long night alone.

Video games usually help him to feel better. Immersing himself in a good video game always helps to keep his hands busy and his mind preoccupied and it’s always a good idea to start early on some Lets Plays rather than let them pile up one by one. 

Kenma switches his camera on, puts his headphones on and boots up a quick platformer that he had been hoping to progress through for a bit. He spends an hour and a half recording for two episodes before he closes the game and checks his footage. He sees immediately that something is wrong.

He looks tired and listless in the shots of his face and what could have been some funny jokes or moments just fall flat. There are long moments of dead air between the game’s narration and key events and when Kenma does speak, his voice is more monotonous than usual. He didn’t realize while he was filming just how bored he was and how much he looked like he didn’t want to be doing this.

It’s hardly good enough for one episode but Kenma saves the footage anyway, thinking that maybe he could add it to a future blooper reel, and decides to give up on filming for now. He moves to his home theatre and decides to play a game on his Switch, hoping that the hack and slash combat could distract him from his thoughts. But then he dies so early in the game and for a very stupid reason. And he dies again. And he dies again. And he dies again. After his sixth stupid death in a row, Kenma admits defeat and sighs in exasperation, closing out of the game and storming out of his home theatre before collapsing face first onto his bed, his phone in his hand.

He groans into his pillow, tells himself not to go straight to his messages when he checks his phone, just open up something else and let him forget all about what day it is today, but when he opens his phone and sees zero new messages from Kuroo he sighs and rolls over onto his back, placing his phone down on the mattress beside him.

He doesn’t want to be all melodramatic like this and he most especially doesn’t want to be hypocritical about it. But would it really hurt, would it really be such a bother, if Kuroo could take even just a few seconds out of his day to message him and let him know that he remembers what day it is?

Kenma doesn’t know why it matters to him so much, especially when things like anniversaries or monthsaries or whatever other -saries there were in the world embarrass him, but this was their anniversary and Kuroo has never forgotten it once. Even when he was always busy with Interhigh since he got his job, he’s never once forgotten to at least greet him.

When Kenma checks the time on his phone, he’s even more surprised to see that it’s already so late into the night, well past when the Interhigh should have ended. They must have announced a winner by now, Kenma thinks, but can’t bring himself to check which team it is this year.

He doesn’t know how long he just lies there in the dark of his room, staring up at the ceiling feeling nothing at all before he closes his eyes and falls asleep. He wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing a little past midnight and his eyes widen when he sees that it’s Kuroo, calling a whole day after their anniversary.

“Hello?” he says, sitting up in bed.

There’s a weary sigh on the other line. “Shit, Kenma, I’m so sorry,” Kuroo pleads. “I forgot about our anniversary. I’m so sorry. I was just so busy and一”

“Took you long enough,” Kenma interrupts coldly. “You couldn’t even send just one message, just to let me know not to expect to see you at all tonight?”

Kuroo sighs. “Kenma, I’m sorry, okay? They had me running all over the place today. They were a bit short on staff and I just happened to be at the right place at the right time. Didn’t think it would take so long. I didn’t even get to see most of the matches. Ahh, but the point is, I’m so sorry! I was just…” His voice trails off for a moment before he sighs heavily. “I was just so busy. You understand, right?”

Kenma sighs. He does, really, and it’s not fair of him to be mad at Kuroo for doing the same things that he’s admonished Kuroo for getting mad about before. But even after he’s slept on it, the growing feeling of hurt and dissatisfaction still weighs on his chest and every time Kenma opens his mouth, he can’t help the bit of venom that escapes it.

“You could have still told me after,” he says. “It’s been hours since the event ended. Why did it take you this long to get back to me?”

Kuroo sighs again. It’s starting to get on Kenma’s nerves. “See, after the thing, my co-workers invited me out to drink. You know, to celebrate. And I couldn’t say no, they were being really pushy about it, so before I knew it, I got dragged along and well, here we are.”

Kenma’s blood runs hot in his veins and for a long moment, he can’t speak. His hand clenches around his phone so tightly that his knuckles almost turn white. “You went drinking?” he says, voice deceptively calm.

“Uh-oh.” Kuroo groans. “Kenma, you have to understand. I can’t exactly say no to my co-workers, especially if they’re in a higher position than me. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise until they were all too drunk to notice that I bailed. I only remembered to call you when I got home.”

“Have you been drinking?” Kenma asks.

Kuroo scoffs before he pauses for a moment. “Well, only a little,” he admits. “But not enough to get me in trouble, don’t worry!”

Kenma sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. “So, you forget to message me all day on our anniversary, not even to greet me to let me know that you remembered, then you go out drinking with your co-workers and don’t even remember to call me till you’re home. Have I missed anything?”

“In my defense, I never said that I was going to show up to your place later,” Kuroo says. “Why does it always have to be your place most of the time anyway? Like, I get it, it’s nice but what’s wrong with going over to my place every once in a while?” He scoffs. “What, too small for you? Too simple? Looks too poor?”

“I never said anything like that,” Kenma snaps back. “I don’t see why it has to be at my place every time either. It doesn’t matter where it is, as long as you remembered.”

“Then why don’t you just come here right now if you’re so hung up on it. Come on, I’m here, aren’t I?”

Kenma glares into the darkness. “Stop changing the subject. My point is, if you had just sent me even one message the entire day, I would have been fine if you said that you were too busy to be near your phone. Just one message to let me know what to expect would have been great. But then you tell me that not only did you forget about it till just now, but you even went out drinking with other people. On our anniversary no less.” 

“You never used to care this much about anniversaries,” Kuroo says. “I thought you’d actually be glad that I wasn’t being all annoying about it as usual.”

Kenma sighs. “It’s not一 I’m not一 Okay, look, being embarrassed about your displays of affection is one thing, but it’s not like I don’t care at all about our anniversary. I still want to celebrate it with you 一 just maybe not as loudly as you want to.”

Kuroo is quiet for a moment. “Okay. I get you. I really do. And I’m sorry that I forgot about it. It’s just, there are so many things going on right now, I can hardly keep track of everything. You know how busy we get every time these big competitions roll around. Think of it like how we used to practice every day at Nekoma but only with more paperwork and more running around off the court and talking to other people. You get it, right? I know I don’t show it sometimes but it does take a lot out of me. Sorry, I’m just...so tired right now. I can barely stand up.”

Kenma’s not sure if he should say it. The words stand ready on his tongue but something is telling him not to let them loose, not to verbalize his thoughts no matter how much he wants to be vindicated. 

“Kenma,” comes Kuroo’s soft voice. “Come on, talk to me.”

Kenma closes his eyes. It’s now or never. “It’s funny, because you never used to forget about our anniversary like this. You’ve always been busy with the Interhigh every year but knowing that it’s Interhigh season has always made you remember our anniversary. I just...don’t really see how you could ever forget about something like that.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo says and this is the first time Kenma really hears the weariness in his voice, the first time he can believe that he’s really been running around all day without rest. “You don’t know just how much energy this job requires of me. I would have loved to leave early and go straight to your place to relax and unwind but the truth is, the way I stand right now as an employee won’t allow me that luxury. I really wish that I could, believe me.”

Kenma swallows the lump that has started to form in his throat. “I know. I’m sorry. But...But what’s so frustrating about this is that一” His hands are starting to shake a little, unsure now if he wants to say what he had wanted to say. He bites his lower lip then takes a deep breath and says, “I just, I feel like I’m just an afterthought to you, like you could forget about me when it suits you and you wouldn’t have to worry about it.”

Kuroo is silent for too long that Kenma almost thinks that he’s hung up. After checking that he is still in fact in a call with Kuroo, Kenma’s heart begins to sink with regret.

“Kuro?” he says tentatively.

Kuroo laughs, short and snide and derisive and Kenma’s stomach twists itself into a knot inside him. 

“Well,” Kuroo says. “Sorry that we can’t all be reclusive geniuses who do nothing but sit around at home and play video games all day without working a real job in their life.”

Kenma freezes and his insides go cold. Suddenly, whatever remorse had been building up inside him is gone, replaced by nothing but a surge of anger. Not a moment later, Kuroo seems to have realized his mistake.

“Oh god,” he groans. “Kenma, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m so so so sorry, I really一”

Kenma ends the call, places his phone on his bedside table and lies back down with his back to it, closing his eyes and determinedly telling himself to go to sleep even as Kuroo’s words still echo spitefully in his head. 

Chapter Text

It’s just after peak hours when Kuroo and Kenma walk into the izakaya. 

The place is small and homely, with low tables on tatami flooring and some seating at the bar, typical of traditional izakaya, which tell Kenma how old this place must be 一 if the outdated yellow posters on the walls and the rickety old building it’s in haven’t told him that already. But it’s nice in its own way; almost novel. He hardly sees any old traditional izakaya like this in Tokyo nowadays. 

The inside is filled with smoke from the open kitchen and the old man behind the grill nods at Kuroo in passing as Kuroo smiles and waves back. 

Most of the customers at this hour are salarymen with their balding heads and creased suits unwinding after a long week at work and some people in bright patterned shirts and sunglasses that Kenma suspects are yakuza all huddled together at one table.

It comes as no surprise to Kenma that this is the izakaya that Kuroo and his co-workers frequent, given its closeness to their workplace and the fact that Kuroo, with his conman suit and looks, fits right in even among the suspected yakuza.

They pick a seat at the bar and a young bubbly waitress approaches them a little while after to take their order. 

“Ah, Kuroo-san! Good evening!” The waitress greets Kuroo with a radiant smile. “How have you been? Haven’t seen you in a while.”

“Evening, Mari-san.” Kuroo returns her smile. “It has been a while, hasn’t it? I’ve been doing okay. How about you?”

“Can’t complain.” The waitress named Mari laughs. “College keeps me busy and grandpa works me to the bone in my free time. No place for nepotism here. But at least I still get paid.”

They both share a laugh and Kenma smiles weakly. Mari’s eyes alight on him and her smile widens. She’s very pretty when she smiles and Kenma averts his eyes for fear that they may never look away. “Hello! Are you a friend of Kuroo-san’s?”

“Um, yes.” Kenma nods and to his surprise, Mari laughs. 

“Kuroo-san, why didn’t you tell me you had such a cute friend?” She gasps suddenly and her eyes widen. “Unless...is he the one you一?”

“This is Kozume Kenma,” Kuroo interjects quickly. “My childhood friend. Kenma, Mari-san. She’s the owner’s granddaughter.”

Kenma doesn’t miss the pointed look Kuroo sends Mari’s way as he’s introducing them to each other and Mari smiles at him apologetically.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kozume-san,” she says and holds out her hand towards Kenma.

“Y-You too,” Kenma says as he shakes her hand.

“Mari!” the old man working at the kitchen barks and Mari’s smile dissolves into a look of annoyance. She rolls her eyes and calls back, “Yes, grandpa!” 

She turns back to Kuroo and Kenma and her smile is back. “So what’ll you be having tonight? The usual, Kuroo-san?”

“Sure,” Kuroo says as he peruses the menu once more. “What about you, Kenma?”

“Um, I’ll have the karaage I guess, and some yakisoba,” Kenma says.

“And your drinks?” Mari asks.

“Just water, thanks.”

Kuroo laughs. “Kenma, we’re at an izakaya. Places like this are meant for alcohol. Mari-san, do you still have some shochu left from the bottle we ordered before?”

“Hmm, yeah, I think so,” Mari replies and Kuroo grins. “Great. You can make half into some chuhai for Kenma and I’ll have the rest straight.”

“Gotcha!” Mari jots it all down in her notepad before she gives them one last smile and yells their order back at her grandfather. Then she saunters off to wait on another table and Kenma reflexively breathes a sigh of relief.

Kuroo chuckles. “You don’t have to be so nervous around Mari-san. She’s a nice kid.”

Kenma sighs. “I know. I can see that.” He side-eyes Kuroo, frowning. “She wasn’t trying to flirt with you, was she?”

“What?” Kuroo scoffs. “No way. Mari-san...let’s just say that I’m not exactly her type. Neither are most men, if you get what I’m saying. Plus she’s too young. Why would you ask that anyway?”

“It’s happened right in front of me too many times before.”

Kuroo smirks and waggles his eyebrows up and down. “Are you jealous?”

“You wish,” Kenma says with a scoff and looks away. His eyes fall on the small television set at one corner of the room, just visible from where they sit. It’s the only thing that looks entirely modern in the izakaya but what really captures Kenma’s attention is the volleyball match that’s playing on it. A rerun of this year’s V. League, he guesses, and he recognizes a familiar face among the players as soon as the camera pans towards him. 

“Hey, isn’t that Daishou from Nohebi?”

Kuroo follows Kenma’s gaze and he grimaces. “Ugh. Yeah, it is.”

Kenma hums absentmindedly as he watches the play on the screen一 a neat set-up followed by a powerful spike onto the opponent’s side of the court by Daishou who lands on the ground afterwards and pumps his fist in the air in victory as his teammates grin and pat him on the back.

Kuroo scoffs. “Show-off.” There’s almost something fond about the way he says it and it makes Kenma smile despite himself.

“Are he and his girlfriend still together? What was her name...Ah, Mika-chan, right?”

Kuroo nods. “Yeah, I’ve seen them around at V. League matches. They’re still disgustingly cute together. Honestly, I’m surprised they’re not married yet.”

Kenma hums. “Wild. Seems like it wasn’t that long ago that we were playing Nohebi for the Tokyo qualifiers.”

Kuroo smiles, his eyes still on the TV as Daishou wins the Yotsuya Motor Spirits another point with a serve. “Yeah. That bastard still asks me for a rematch, even though I haven’t played in a long time.”

“You haven’t?” Kenma turns to look at him.

Kuroo shrugs. “Don’t have the time to. I still exercise and go on runs and stuff, but I haven’t actually played since...well, not since my last game in college if I’m being honest. I’ll admit, I’m getting pretty rusty.”

“Don’t you play with Bokuto sometimes?”

“Nah. Do you think I could ever compete with Olympic-level wing spiker Bokuto Koutarou now? Pretty sure he’d tear my arms off if I ever tried blocking one of his spikes when I’m years out of practice.”

Kenma studies him closely. “Hmm. I think you could still do it. Bokuto isn’t unstoppable just because he made it on the national team.”

Kuroo stares at him, half suspicious and half in surprise. “I’m not sure if you’re being serious or if you’re just trying to make me feel good for not keeping in shape.”

Kenma shrugs. “I only say it as it is. Though personally, I don’t think you could last against Ushijima, especially with a setter like Kageyama, even if you were in your prime.”

“Gee, thanks for believing in me,” Kuroo says flatly. 

There’s the sound of loud cheering and they both turn to look at the TV as the announcer excitedly declares that the Yotsuya Motor Spirits have won the match two to one. The screen shows Daishou being surrounded by his teammates, all of them looking tired and sweaty but laughing and grinning through it all. Daishou seems to be smiling the widest as he embraces their setter, laughing at the visible tears rolling down their setter’s cheeks.

“His play has improved since he first got into the V. League,” Kuroo says, his tone almost wistful and his eyes distant as they watch the TV. “Bet he could easily make it into division one soon if he keeps this up.”

“Do you miss it?” Kenma asks.

Kuroo blinks and meets Kenma’s gaze. After a while, he chuckles. “All the time.”

“Did you ever wish you could have played professionally, like Bokuto and Yaku-san?”

Kuroo sighs and leans forward, resting his elbows on the bar in front of him. “No.”

Kenma frowns. “Why not?”

“The better question is, why would I?” Kuroo counters. “I can feel sad that that part of my life is over without feeling sorry that it is. There’s a difference between just missing it and regretting that it’s gone. I don’t regret at all that I chose this job over being a professional volleyball player. I can never make it as a pro now but think of all the future pro players I could give that chance to instead. It’s much more satisfying for me to show as many people as I can just how fun volleyball can be instead of experiencing that fun only for myself.”

Kenma stares silently back at Kuroo until Kuroo starts to look embarrassed and breaks eye contact. “Oi, say something, would you? I’m starting to get self-conscious.”

Kenma smiles. “Nothing. That just sounds like something only you would say.”

Kuroo scowls. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You just really like volleyball, don’t you?”

Kuroo flushes and he looks away once more, scratching the back of his neck. “I-I guess. But what about you? Don’t you miss it sometimes?”

Kenma hums as his eyes wander back to the TV screen. The next match is about to begin and they’re announcing the starting lineup of each team. None of them look familiar to Kenma.

“It was fun while it lasted,” Kenma says. “More exhausting than anything I’d ever done, but fun. I guess we’re kind of the same. I miss it but I don’t regret that it’s over. Now I have more time to play my video games and sleep in on weekends.”

Kuroo smirks. “Sounds like something only you would say.” He grabs one of the wooden chopsticks on the tray in front of them and fiddles with it. “Hey, would you—“

“Sorry to keep you waiting!” Mari comes running towards them bearing a tray full of food and drinks. She lays out their order in front of them, along with the bottle of shochu Kuroo had ordered and a glass of lemon chuhai in front of Kenma.

She beams. “Enjoy!” Then she’s walking away in a flash to bring the other tables their orders.

Kenma eyes the chuhai dubiously. “How much alcohol is in this thing?”

“Shouldn’t be a lot.” Kuroo breaks his chopsticks apart and picks at his tebasaki. “It’s mostly water and mixer so you shouldn’t be able to taste the shochu.”

“That’s not what I’m worried about.”

“Well,” Kuroo says as he lifts a piece of tebasaki up with his chopsticks. “One glass won’t get you drunk. If you decide to get more though, that’s up to you.” He pauses then frowns down at Kenma. “Unless your tolerance is absolute shit and I know for a fact that you’re a lightweight.”

Kenma scowls. “I can hold my liquor.”

“Oh?” Kuroo grins deviously. “Can you now?”

“Yeah.” As if to prove his point, Kenma takes a huge swig of the chuhai. It burns a little on the way down but the lemon juice helps it to go down much smoother than he had expected and Kenma manages not to gag.

“Wow,” Kuroo says, looking impressed. “So you’ve built up a higher tolerance now, have you?”

Kenma grimaces. “I have but I’d rather be mostly sober when I go to bed tonight. Hangovers are the worst.”

Kuroo laughs. “Agreed.” He pours some shochu into his glass and lifts it up. Kenma clinks his glass against Kuroo’s and they both knock their heads back and take a drink.

Kuroo’s eyes land on the TV screen once more and he puts his glass down in a hurry. “Oh watch this!” He points his chin towards the TV, grinning. “I’m on camera for like five whole seconds.”

Kenma stares at him skeptically over his glass of chuhai before he turns to the TV.

“Wait for it…” comes Kuroo’s voice very close to his ear. “There!”

The camera cuts to a shot of the benches at the side of the court where the team’s coaches sit, and standing there casually conversing with one of the coaches is none other than Kuroo, dressed in a button-up shirt and slacks with a single crooked red tie. They can’t hear anything of what they’re saying over the announcer’s voice but Kuroo laughs at something the coach says and Kenma can already hear Kuroo’s ugly braying hyena laughter through the screen before the camera cuts back to the court.

Next to him, the real Kuroo laughs as well. “I don’t even remember what we were talking about but when me and my co-workers first saw that shot right here in this very izakaya, I felt like a celebrity.”

Kenma turns to him. “You go here a lot to watch volleyball?”

“Yeah,” Kuroo replies. “Mari-san’s grandfather knows where he gets most of his customers so he always leaves volleyball matches on for us. He does a lot of live viewings too whenever nationals or V. League season comes along. If it’s not in season, he has taped reruns he just leaves on. I guess it’s his way of showing his appreciation.”

Kuroo pauses to nibble at his tebasaki and Kenma takes a bite of his karaage. “We’re always causing trouble for them,” Kuroo continues after he’s done chewing. “Especially after a V. League season. We order the most drinks and half of us always end up drunk out of their minds at closing time. One time, Mari-san had to carry a grown man all the way back to the office where one of us had volunteered to drive him home.”

Kuroo chuckles at the memory and Kenma hums through his mouthful of food. “Must be good for business if he’s got a lot of fans as patrons.”

“Oh he does.” Kuroo grins. “Why do you think we love this izakaya so much? We’re all one degree of separation away from these volleyball stars people watch on TV all the time. Even closer for someone like me who’s known them since high school.”

“Wooow,” Kenma drawls out. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of someone so famous.”

“Oh haha,” Kuroo says snidely before he takes a huge bit of his tebasaki. “Excuse me, o great Kodzuken, for relishing in my five seconds of fame,” he keeps talking through the mouthful of food.

Kenma scoffs and punches his arm gently. “Gross. Chew your food, you slob.”

Kuroo sticks his tongue out at Kenma while his mouth is still full of food and Kenma scrunches his face up in disgust. “You are the grossest human being on this planet.”

Kuroo laughs before finally swallowing his food. “And proud of it.”

“You must have a blast gossiping about all the big V. League stars with your co-workers,” Kenma says.

“Oh you have no idea! They always get a kick out of the stories of Bokuto’s dejected mode back in high school.”

“Are you even allowed to tell your co-workers things like that?”

Kuroo shrugs. “What Bokuto doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“I’m telling Akaashi.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

Kenma reaches for his phone and Kuroo quickly lays a hand over his, laughing nervously.

“Okay, let’s not make any rash decisions here!”

Kenma smirks and puts his phone down. “You’re lucky I’m in a benevolent mood today or I might have put you on blast for this.”

Kuroo smiles wryly. “Please take pity on me, o most merciful Kodzuken, I don’t wanna lose my job or the trust of my closest friends.” 

Kenma snorts. “Assuming that you had that trust in the first place.”

Kuroo laughs as he takes another swig of shochu. “Okay okay, I get it. I won’t leak any more secrets to my co-workers. It’s not like I said anything really damaging though. I only repeat stories that they already know. Anyone who knew Bokuto before he got into MSBY would know about his infamous dejected mode.”

“I know,” Kenma says, swirling his chuhai around in his glass. “You wouldn’t do anything that could potentially cost you your job. You love it too much.”

Kuroo stops picking at his tebasaki for a moment to stare at Kenma. “How’d you figure that out?”

Kenma meets his gaze for a couple of seconds before he looks down at his plate. “You just seem so...happy, when you talk about it. It’s like when you first talked to me about volleyball. It’s like...there’s a shine to you.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows. “A shine?”

“Yeah. You know, like when Shouyo gets a toss from Kageyama, or...that look you say I get whenever I have a new game to play.”

Kuroo blinks then bursts out laughing, much to Kenma’s chagrin. He glares up at him, cheeks reddening with embarrassment. “Shut up, I knew it was too embarrassing to say, I—“

“It’s not that.”

Kenma stares. Kuroo is smiling, soft and genuine, his cheeks a little flushed from laughter. “Okay, it’s a little embarrassing coming from you, but in a good way. I’m glad that you notice.”

Kenma can feel another blush coming on and he quickly ducks his head to avoid Kuroo’s gaze. “I…” He swallows thickly. “I’m sorry that I never noticed it till now. How much you like your job, that is.”

Kuroo chuckles softly. “It’s alright. I guess it just means that you’re paying more attention now. Besides, it’s not like it’s your fault.”

Kenma frowns. “What do you mean?””

Kuroo scratches the back of his neck and looks away. “Oh you know. Of course you couldn’t appreciate what I was doing, since I was always off doing that instead of spending it with you. My point is, I don’t blame you for only noticing it now. I’ll admit, it was a pretty sorry excuse the more I used it.”

Kenma is quiet for a moment before he sighs and shrugs. “It’s okay. It was a pretty lame excuse when I said it too.”

Kuroo shakes his head. “Yeah, but...not like how I used to say it. As if it was your fault.”

Kenma can feel whatever relaxed, amicable atmosphere start to drop so he takes a deep breath and says, “All right, that’s enough talk about jobs, don’t you think? What matters is that you’re here now and you’ve got more free time, right?” He holds his glass out to Kuroo, expression neutral.

Kuroo blinks at him before he smiles and clinks his glass against Kenma’s. “Yeah. I said I’d make time for you and I intend to keep that promise.”

The rest of the night is a blur and made even blurrier by the alcohol in their systems. They lose themselves in conversation until their plates have been wiped clean and Kuroo’s pouring himself his third glass of shochu. Or is it his fourth? Who knows. Nobody’s keeping track at this point and Kenma’s pretty sure he’s had more than one glass of the chuhai throughout the entire thing.

But he’s careful not to test his limits. He knows that this is his last drink when he stands up to use the bathroom once and sways a little as he walks. He returns to the bar and downs the last of his drink before he notices Kuroo staring off into space beside him.

“Kuro?” Kenma prods his arm and Kuroo starts before turning to look at Kenma. He closes and opens his eyes slowly. “Sorry, I, uhh...Wow, the shochu’s hitting me a lot more than I thought it was.”

Kenma glances at the shochu which is now only just a puddle at the very bottom of the bottle. “Maybe you should call it a night.”

Kuroo follows his eyes to the shochu and frowns. He hangs his head and sighs. “Yeah, maybe I should.” His words are slow and starting to slur and Kenma can tell that he’s spacing out again.

Kenma flags Mari down for the bill and shakes Kuroo tentatively. “Who’s paying for this?”

Kuroo raises his hand slowly. “I will.” He pats each of his pants pockets down, searching for his wallet. His fingers fumble as he tries to pull it out before he hands it to Kenma.

“You count it. I don’t think I can.”

Kenma scowls. “I don’t want to be responsible for other people’s money. You do it.”

Kuroo gives him a look. “Kenma, I can barely read the menu. I don’t think I can be trusted with money right now.”

Kenma rolls his eyes as Mari approaches with the bill. 

“Oh, is Kuroo-san drunk already?” Mari says, giving Kuroo a concerned look. “He doesn’t usually drink this much.”

Kenma shrugs as he opens the wallet then freezes as he catches sight of the beaten up old photo inside. It’s a photo of the old Nekoma team back when Kuroo was captain. It’s been folded up to fit into the wallet’s holder but Kenma can tell that it was originally a group photo because Lev’s been sliced in half, three-fourths of Fukunaga’s body is still in the frame and someone’s knee and leg, he’s going to guess Kai, is just visible kneeling at the edge. 

But what really gives Kenma pause are the two people centered on the photo. A grinning, goofy Kuroo slinging his arm around Kenma and making a peace sign with his fingers while Kenma is making a...rather unique face at the camera but also reluctantly holding up two fingers with him.

Kenma barely has time to remember when or where he’s seen this picture before when the wallet is abruptly snatched out of his hands. Kuroo stuffs it into his pocket, avoiding Kenma’s curious eyes, and tells Mari, “Just put it on my tab. Thanks, Mari-san.”

Mari glances between the both of them with her eyebrows raised before she shrugs her shoulders. “Do you need help carrying Kuroo-san out, Kozume-san? He looks like he can barely stand.”

“I’m fine!” Kuroo says and stands up. He stumbles and would have fallen on his face if Mari hadn’t caught him on time.

“Whoa there,” she says. “Kozume-san, a little help?”

Kenma blinks then quickly moves to Kuroo’s other side, hoisting his arm around his shoulders and helping Mari to navigate him towards the door.

“I’m fine, guys, honest,” Kuroo slurs out and Mari chuckles. 

“Sure, Kuroo-san.”

They make it to the door before Mari stops supporting him and Kenma feels the full weight of Kuroo leaning against him. He stumbles a bit but manages to keep his balance.

“Are you two going to be all right?” Mari asks.

“I’m fine, ‘swear.” Kuroo holds up one hand in a solemn vow before Kenma swats it back down.

“No, you need to sober up,” Kenma says before he turns to Mari. “Um, thank you, Mari-san. I think I can take it from here.”

Mari flashes them one last golden smile. “If you say so. You two have a good night!” She ducks back inside the izakaya and then it’s just the two of them standing outside in a mostly empty late night street.

Kenma sighs as he shifts his weight and hefts Kuroo up on his shoulders. “Can you at least try to walk right now? I’ve been out of practice for longer than you have.”

Kuroo chuckles but manages to stand back on his own two feet though he still needs Kenma’s support to keep steady.

“So, where do you live?” Kenma asks.

“Oh?” Kuroo grins down at him. “Is Kodzuken taking me home tonight? Kyaaa, this is moving too fast, I’m not ready!”

Kenma scowls and pinches him sharply on the arm, earning him a satisfying yelp from Kuroo. “Where do you live so I can escort you there? And quickly if you don’t mind. I don’t wanna miss the last train.”

“Escort,” Kuroo repeats with a giggle. “How ‘bout you take me over to your place instead? Don’t wanna go home just yet.”

Kenma frowns. “What do you mean?”

Kuroo sighs as his head lolls back, eyes closed. “I mean, I don’t wanna go home yet. Lemme sober up at yourses.”

“...Why?”

Kuroo shrugs. “Haven’t seen your place in a while. Just wanna see how you’ve been holdin’ up.”

Kenma raises an eyebrow at him, clearly not buying his stupid excuse, before he sighs in defeat and begins walking. “Fine. But we’re stopping at a convenience store to get food first.”

“Oh goody,” Kuroo says. “Can I get ice cream this time, mom?” Kenma pinches him hard on the arm and Kuroo lets out another yelp.

What was supposed to be a short detour to the convenience store turns out to be a whole ordeal when Kuroo won’t stop draping himself over Kenma’s shoulders like a lazy cat that won’t stop pestering him for attention. At least nobody seemed to mind, as Kuroo was very obviously drunk and any late night patrons of the store were too tired or too jaded to bat an eye at them.

They just barely make it for the last train and they arrive at Kenma’s house miraculously in one piece. 

Kenma sighs as he leads Kuroo inside and drops him on the couch where he proceeds to melt into the upholstery. Kenma takes out the sandwich he had bought for Kuroo and places it on the coffee table in front of him along with a glass of water.

“You should eat,” he says before he steals away to his bedroom to change into comfier clothes.

When he returns, Kuroo is standing in the center of his living room, turning slowly as he looks around. He stops when he notices Kenma in the doorway and smiles sheepishly. “Was just taking in how much has changed.”

It’s strange seeing Kuroo inside his house again. Kenma almost doesn’t think it’s real. His head almost scrapes the ceiling and there’s none of that forced politeness like he’s in a stranger’s house. 

Kenma walks past him, determined not to look his way, and into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. “And just how much has changed exactly?”

“A lot,” Kuroo replies. “You got a new kotatsu. Did the old one stop working?”

“You could say that.” Kenma takes a drink of water before he puts his glass down with a sigh. “It wasn’t completely broken, it just wasn’t as warm as it used to be anymore.”

“And the photos?” Kuroo gestures to the framed pictures on the console at one side of the room, looking amused.

Kenma makes a face. “It was my mom’s idea. She even brought the console to go along with it.”

Kuroo chuckles as he bends down to look at them. Kenma comes up behind him, unwrapping the onigiri he had bought for himself and devouring the whole thing in three bites.

The console is covered in mostly family pictures, ranging from when Kenma was a baby to when he had been in college and his mom had bullied him into being in the photo with them. There’s other photos of Kenma as a kid, much to his embarrassment, and one from his coming of age ceremony, dressed in his dad’s black hakama that’s too big for him, where he looks like he’s one second away from murdering the photographer. He’s not entirely embarrassed since Kuroo’s probably seen these photos before and he’s definitely seen Kenma look worse. There’s nothing new about this.

And then there’s two graduation photos, one from high school and one from college, but Kenma’s eyes are immediately drawn to the one from high school. 

Of course. How had he not realized it till then?

The photo in Kuroo’s wallet looks exactly like the one on Kenma’s console — It’s from his, Fukunaga and Yamamoto’s graduation. Kuroo, Yaku and Kai had surprised the volleyball team that day and Kenma’s mom had insisted that she take a photo of them in front of the gym. This turned out to be the last photo they’d ever take together as a team. Even Akane, Alisa and coach Nekomata are present, standing and smiling off to the side.

In retrospect, Kenma should have guessed what photo it was sooner, seeing as everyone on the team except the old third years are dressed in the school uniform. 

“That photo in your wallet,” Kenma says and Kuroo looks up at him in surprise. “How did you get it?”

“Ah.” Kuroo laughs and rubs the back of his neck. “Your mom gave me a copy after she had it developed. More importantly, does your mom still use that beaten up old digital camera?”

Kenma chuckles. “Not since I got her a new smartphone. How come you never told me she gave you that photo?”

“‘Cause she was sure you’d try to make me burn it if you ever found out.”

“Okay, valid.”

Kuroo grins and his eyes go back to the photos on the console. “Frankly, I’m offended that this is the only photo of me your mom has. I’m practically the second son your parents never had.”

Kenma rolls his eyes, trying to conceal the heavy feeling that’s suddenly weighing his chest down. “Actually, there were one or two. From when we were kids and a much more recent one.”

“Where are they?”

Kenma bites his lip and looks off to the side. “I...took them down after my parents left. Because…”

“Oh. I see.”

They both fall silent as they continue staring at the photos before Kuroo straightens up with a sigh, sways a bit on the spot then walks over to the couch to dig into the sandwich Kenma had left for him. Kenma walks over to join him after a little while.

“Didja keep ‘em at least?” 

Kenma turns to Kuroo. “What?”

“Didja keep the photos at least?” Kuroo repeats, eyes on his sandwich.

Kenma looks away and nods slowly. 

“Can I see?”

“What?”

Kuroo faces him. “Can I see the photos you took down?”

Kenma hesitates, unsure if he even knows where he kept them, before he gives one small nod and rises from his seat. “Let me remember where I put them.”

After much rummaging, he finds them at the bottom of one of the console’s drawers. 

One is a frayed old photo taken during their elementary school’s sports day, if their colored headbands and dirty white t-shirts are any indication. They both squat on a picnic mat with homemade bento boxes on their laps. Kuroo is grinning broadly with rice still stuck to his face, holding up a peace sign. Beside him, Kenma looks blankly up at the camera. Not too far from where they sit lies a volleyball, just barely staying within the shot, and Kenma knows in an instant that it’s Kuroo’s old one — the one he used to carry around with him all the time before it eventually deflated beyond saving and had to be thrown out.

The second photo is from college. It’s the both of them standing in front of Kenma’s new house. Kenma guesses that this is when his parents had first visited, seeing the pristine condition the house’s exterior is still in. Kuroo has his arm around Kenma’s shoulders while he makes another peace sign with his other hand. His grin is less wide and toothy but looks almost exactly the same from when they were kids. Kenma’s surprised to find that he’s actually smiling in this one. Sure, it’s tiny compared to the one Kuroo wears, but it’s there all the same, along with the peace sign he holds up.

“Wow, talk about a blast from the past,” Kuroo says when Kenma shows him the first photo. “I remember this. My dad was too busy to go so your mom made a bento for me too. That katsu curry is still one of the best I’ve ever had.”

Kenma gives a small smile. “You lost in the relay that day and almost cried.”

“Hey,” Kuroo snaps. “Not my fault that damn Mashima wouldn’t stop kicking dust into my face, whether or not that was on purpose.”

“If only Mashima could see you now.”

Kuroo chuckles. His eyes fall on the second photo and his expression turns more subdued. Sad even. He doesn’t comment on it, simply hands it back to Kenma with the first photo. 

“You done?” Kenma asks and Kuroo shrugs, not looking at him.

Kenma stands to return the photos to the console’s drawer. He hears Kuroo stand after he does and he thinks that he must be going to look around the house a bit more or to refill his glass of water. He doesn’t expect Kuroo to be standing right behind him when he closes the drawer and turns around.

“K-Kuro?” Kenma splutters, not prepared to come face to face with Kuroo’s chest. He looks up at Kuroo’s face which only makes it worse because he is right there and the expression he wears is serious and pensive for once.

“What—“

Kuroo leans down and Kenma’s breath hitches in his throat. He stands completely frozen, unable to tear his gaze away from Kuroo’s for even just a second. Kuroo draws closer till Kenma’s lower back hits the console, his hands reaching out to hold onto the edges as Kuroo bears down on him. He’s so close now that their chests are pressed against each other and Kenma feels Kuroo’s knee subtly push his thighs apart. Kuroo licks his lips, eyes dark and hazy, and Kenma can’t help it when his gaze is drawn there.

There’s one tense agonizing moment that seems to stretch on for hours, then Kenma hears a sigh, feels Kuroo’s hot alcohol-scented breath ghost over his face before Kuroo pulls away. When he opens his eyes, Kuroo is picking his suit jacket off of the floor where he had dropped it earlier, his back turned to him. Kenma isn’t sure whether or not to be relieved or disappointed.

“I think I’m good now,” Kuroo says as he shoves the rest of his sandwich back into its plastic bag, keeping his head lowered.

“W-What...are you—“

“Thanks for letting me stay here while I sobered up.” Kuroo straightens up and fixes his tie a bit. There doesn’t seem to be any trace of his earlier drunkenness. There’s a telltale unsteadiness in his stance but other than that, he wouldn’t have known that Kuroo was drunk at all. 

“Wait, hold on.” Kenma goes to stand in the doorway of the living room, scowling up at Kuroo. “Were you even that drunk to begin with?”

Kuroo blinks before his face breaks into an easy smile. “I don’t know, was I?”

“Something’s weird. Mari-san said earlier that you don’t usually drink enough to get as drunk as you did.”

Kuroo shrugs. “My tolerance is pretty high. That shochu was just some real strong stuff.”

“Why?” Kenma asks.

Kuroo blinks. “Why what?”

“Why’d you take me out drinking? We could have done anything, eaten anywhere, but you took me to that izakaya because you wanted to drink, didn’t you?”

Kuroo cocks his head to the side, as if it was becoming too heavy for his neck, and sighs. He reaches up to scratch at a spot behind his neck, looking away from Kenma. “Well, maybe I was working up the courage to do something.”

Kenma frowns. “Do something?”

Kuroo smiles at him, as if he were in on a joke that he wasn’t going to tell Kenma. “That’s a secret. I better go. Thanks again.”

He claps Kenma on the shoulder as he passes. Kenma can do nothing but stare after him from his doorway until he can no longer see his silhouette walking down the street.

He can still feel Kuroo’s hot breath against his skin, still smell the sharp scent of alcohol in the air, and Kenma wishes that he could forget the way Kuroo had looked at him then — in a way that told him that he may not entirely be over his ex just yet in much the same way Kenma wasn’t over his.

****

One thing he’s always known about Kuroo is that he can’t stay mad at Kenma.

It only takes him half a day of complete and utter silence before Kuroo calls him up one evening to offer his profuse apologies.

His apology lacked much and was rather rushed, but Kenma supposes that it’s still better than keeping up this charade, this seemingly endless game of who can keep silent the longest. There’s been a lot of that lately, Kenma notices, and even though he normally hates talking, even he has started to dread the long pauses between their words, their short conversations and complete lack of sincere apologies.

But at least Kenma isn’t the only one who hates it. Maybe Kuroo hates the quiet even more, being the extroverted chatterbox that he is. And as if to make up for the hours they haven’t said a word to each other, Kuroo has started to pay more attention.

Which would be nice, except attention isn’t really what Kenma wants or needs at the moment.

“Would you stop looking at me like that?” Kenma glares at Kuroo over his shoulder.

Kuroo raises his brows from where he’s reclining on Kenma’s bed, a bag of chips in hand. “Like what?”

“Like that,” Kenma says irritably. “You know. Staring.”

“I’m not staring.”

“Yes you are.”

“And what if I was?”

“Stop.”

Kuroo chuckles as he pops another chip into his mouth. “Just act like I’m not here.”

Easier said than done. Kenma sighs and turns back to his laptop screen. Accounting is the last thing he wants to do on a Sunday afternoon but he’s always had a habit of putting things off till the weekend until he has no other choice but to do it. 

So he does his best to take Kuroo’s words to heart and pretend that he isn’t there. He’s alone in his room sitting in front of his laptop trying desperately to seem like he knows how to work Excel. 

It works for the most part and Kenma almost completely forgets about Kuroo’s presence. Almost. About half an hour later, he hears some rustling behind him and footsteps and then suddenly, Kuroo is looming over him from behind, leaning down to look at his screen. Kenma nearly jumps in his seat when he hears Kuroo’s voice near his ear and spins around to glare up at him.

“What are you doing?” he snaps.

Kuroo shrugs, eyes still on his screen. “Just checking out what you’re working on.” 

“Why?”

“Just curious about your process.”

“And I ask again, why?”

Kuroo places a hand on his chest and nods sagely. “I’m just trying to show you that I care about your work and that I respect your dedication to your craft.”

On any other day, Kenma would have appreciated the gesture. He would have been glad to see Kuroo actively trying to make up for his slip-up from before and actually try to be better. But right now, this unfinished Excel sheet is staring him in the face, and if he doesn’t finish this by the end of the day, he’s never going to get it done.

So Kenma sighs and turns his back on Kuroo, ignoring him as he continues working. Kuroo remains standing behind him, watching from over his shoulder. For one glorious moment, Kenma hears only the clacking of his own keyboard, then Kuroo breaks the silence with an innocent-sounding cough and Kenma actually feels his nerves jump beneath his skin at the disturbance.

“You know,” Kuroo says, oblivious to the tension in Kenma’s shoulders, “I’m no expert at Excel, but—“

“Then why are you talking as if you are?” Kenma snaps.

Kuroo pauses. “Okay. Fair.” He chuckles half-heartedly but the sound all but dies down when Kenma doesn’t laugh with him.

“Okay, tough crowd.”

Kenma scoffs softly but doesn’t entertain Kuroo any further. He clears his throat pointedly and keeps typing. 

Kuroo straightens up with a sigh and mercifully leaves the room. Kenma is left alone, thank God, for a couple hours. He isn’t sure how much time has passed before he hears the door open again and is vaguely aware of Kuroo entering.

Kuroo places a mug of steaming hot coffee on the desk in front of him and Kenma blinks, stopping in his typing to look up at Kuroo. “What’s this?”

Kuroo smiles. “Thought you’d appreciate it.”

“I’m fine.”

Kuroo scoffs disbelievingly. “Kenma, you’ve been working for hours.”

“Hours?” Kenma frowns and glances at the clock. “What’re you—“ He stops, eyes going wide as he realizes that Kuroo’s right. He turns to look at the window and at the darkening sky outside.

“Yeah,” Kuroo says. “Hours.”

Kenma shakes his head before he turns back to his laptop and resumes his typing. “God, I’ve been working for that long and I’m still not done? What kind of a—“

“Whoa, whoa!” Kuroo lays a hand on Kenma’s shoulder. “Slow down. Maybe you should take a break.”

“What? No. I’m so close to finishing this, Kuro, if I take a break now, I’m never going to—“

“Now that’s a first,” Kuroo says, incredulous. “The famously lazy Kenma refusing to set aside work for even just a short break?”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “This is important and I’ve been procrastinating on it all week. I really should—“

“You should at least eat.” Kuroo’s voice is a lot more firm, more stern even. “You can’t keep working on an empty stomach.”

Kenma waves his hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. Just bring me something from the kitchen, would you, and I’ll eat it while I work.”

“Oh no.” Kuroo shakes his head. “You’re coming with me to the kitchen and getting that food yourself. And then you’re going to sit down with me at the table and finish all of your food before you get back to work.”

Kenma scowls up at Kuroo, annoyance written all over his face. “Why would I— Kuro, you don’t understand, I can’t leave till this is finished.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows and crosses his arms over his chest. “Sure you can. I’ve seen you do it many times before. How is this time any different?”

Kenma sighs as he hunches over his computer. “This isn’t high school or college anymore, Kuro. There’s a lot on the line this time and I can’t just bullshit my way through this the same way I did before. In case you haven’t noticed, I have my own company to run and manage, and I’ll actually be losing money if I don’t—“

“Oh stock trader Kodzuken is worried about losing money now?” Kuroo’s tone is teasing and lighthearted but it’s only getting on Kenma’s nerves even more.

Kenma breathes in deeply before he lets it all out in a long and heavy sigh. 

On any other day, he might have found Kuroo’s pestering endearing. He might have listened to him and stopped working to eat an actual proper dinner. He would even be less annoyed at Kuroo for constantly interrupting him without listening to anything he’s saying. But right now, he feels every second that he’s not spending at work creeping away into oblivion and he needs to trap as much time as he can before it’s too late.

“Why am I still talking to you?” Kenma turns his back on Kuroo and resumes his typing. 

There’s one moment of silence before Kenma suddenly feels Kuroo’s arms wrapping around his waist and pulling him tight against Kuroo’s chest. Kenma stops typing. 

“Kuro, let go.”

“I know your work’s important,” comes Kuroo’s voice into his ear, low and husky and breathy. “I know you need to get this done, but rest is important too. So is food, and spending time with your boyfriend.”

Kenma tries to push Kuroo’s arms off. “And I will. Eat, rest and spend time with you, I mean. But just not now. I—“

“Why not now?” Kuroo asks. “Don’t you think you should call it a day soon? I’m sure whatever it is, you can do it after you’re well-rested.”

“Or I can just finish what I started now so I don’t have to worry about it anymore and have more time to relax and sleep a ton later, and—“

“Or you can come with me to the dining room, sit down and eat something. I can put on a movie if you want and we could relax and, well.” Kuroo’s lips brush against the side of his neck, perhaps on purpose. “We could see where the night leads.”

On any other day, Kenma would have been convinced. If his hunger didn’t decide for him, then perhaps his horniness would have. He would have clocked out for the night and watched a movie with Kuroo, unwind and relieve some of the stress that has been building up for the past week.

But this isn’t any other day. Instead of relief or even lust, all Kenma can feel rising up within him is irritation. He feels all the stress beneath his skin threatening to burst right out of the seams, making every feather-light touch on his skin leave an itch and an unpleasant crawling feeling.

Kenma nearly elbows Kuroo sharply in the gut as he pushes him away and Kuroo makes a startled noise. 

“Not now, Kuro!” he snaps and Kuroo is taken aback. 

Kuroo frowns. “Kenma一”

“How many times do I have to say it before you get it? I’m not hungry, I don’t want to stop working, I need to一”

“Kenma, you can’t just skip meals. If you keep working without rest, you’re gonna一”

“Stop interrupting me!”

Kuroo falls silent. He stares blankly at Kenma as Kenma glares back. Finally, he sighs and gestures for Kenma to say his piece. Kenma sighs as well, feeling the anger inside him subside momentarily.

“Look, I appreciate it,” Kenma says with an effort to keep his voice level and steady. “But, if I’m being honest, you’re really getting on my nerves right now. I just need to be alone until I finish this and then I promise I’ll go eat, I’ll rest, I’ll do whatever the fuck you want. But right now, I一 I just can’t. I’m wasting time just talking to you right now and if I don’t get back to work, I’ll...I’ll…” 

Kuroo holds up a hand and nods. “I understand.” His expression is placid but there’s no mistaking the clear hurt in his eyes and the strain at the corners of his mouth, as if he was trying really hard not to snap back at Kenma. “I guess...if you want to be left alone that badly, I’ll just leave.”

Instantly, Kenma regrets his outburst and is ready to apologize to him, then he realizes that Kuroo’s tone is so obviously set up to make Kenma feel guilty, to make him take back his words and feel sorry for Kuroo, and all Kenma can think about is that he doesn’t have the time to be doing this right now. 

“Go then,” he says before he turns his back on Kuroo and back to the glow of his laptop screen. He doesn’t hear Kuroo leave or say anything else. He’s too absorbed in his work to think about anything else and he stays like that well into the night, glad at last for the peace and quiet and forgetting all about the momentary regret he had felt at telling Kuroo off. 

Chapter Text

Summer comes and goes as it always does. 

There’s one last giant heatwave, like the season’s final hurrah before it leaves for another year, and Kenma is comforted by the fact that the days will be much cooler after this. It’s the only thought that keeps him going as he melts into his sofa, all the shoji doors of his house thrown open to let in the air, while a single electric fan whirs and buzzes away on the floor, providing whatever momentary respite it can from the heat.

He’d turn on the air conditioner if he could, but he’s been abusing his poor power bill more than usual lately and he doesn’t want it to get any worse than it already has. He’s made at least three trips to the nearest convenience store in the past hour; two to buy popsicles and the third when he gave up and just went and bought two entire gallons of ice cream which he stuck in the fridge with the promise to eat them once he’s through with the popsicles. He already knows he’s going to have a bad time in the bathroom later but it’s better than facing this heatwave without the fleeting comfort of a cold spoon of ice cream in his mouth.

Kenma is sorely tempted to strip off his shirt. He’s alone in his house, for now at least, and there’s no one there to judge him for the little bit of flab that’s built up in his stomach that he’s grown really self-conscious of. But just as he has his hands on the edge of his shirt, he hears his doorbell ring. 

Right. He had forgotten that Kuroo was coming over today. Then again, Kuroo has been showing up at his house unannounced a lot lately. Kenma doesn’t really mind it. In fact, it’s a lot like when they were younger, when Kuroo would just barge into his room uninvited to the point where Kenma’s parents agreed to give him a spare key just so they wouldn’t have to answer the door every time.

Ever since that night at the izakaya, Kenma feels as though letting Kuroo into his house again has given him a free pass to just come and go as he likes, like inviting a vampire into his home. Which he doesn’t mind at all, really. It just reminds him too much of the past to see Kuroo inside his house again but that’s his problem and not really something he wants Kuroo to know. Besides, other than the occasional melodramatic pang of nostalgia and regret, it’s actually quite nice to have Kuroo come over much more often now. Makes the whole fake relationship thing feel more real than it is.

“Coming,” Kenma calls, getting to his feet and walking barefoot towards the genkan, still fanning himself with his small bamboo uchiwa fan. Kuroo greets him with a grin and another gallon of ice cream in a plastic bag and Kenma grimaces.

“What?” Kuroo says. “Thought it was appropriate for this weather.”

“Just put it in with the others,” Kenma says as he leads Kuroo inside. “What flavor is it?”

“Cookies and cream. Still your favorite?”

“Unfortunately.”

Kenma opens the freezer and Kuroo puts the extra gallon of cookies and cream inside with the other two gallons of cookies and cream. Kenma’s pretty sure he’s not going to want cookies and cream for a while after this.

They make their way out on the elevated engawa or veranda beyond the shoji doors, overlooking the small walled yard beside the house. Kuroo sighs as he sits, feet hanging off the engawa’s edge and Kenma squats beside him, turning the electric fan around to face them. He offers Kuroo a popsicle and Kuroo takes it gratefully.

They both stare out at the yard and Kenma wishes that he had taken better care of it. It’s not wild and untamed by all means. The grass is at a respectable height and the flowers, bushes and other plants he has growing there have been watered and maintained thanks to the gardener he’s hired to come by every week or so. But the small empty fish pond hasn’t been filled with fish or water for a long time and thin trails of green vines have started to grow around the stone lanterns.

“Sorry about the yard,” he says before he can stop himself. He remembers that it was much better maintained back when he and Kuroo were still together and Kuroo has definitely seen it in better shape.

“Nah, it’s good.” Kuroo shrugs. “Too busy these days, I take it?”

Kenma hums. “Actually, I could stand to spare a couple hours every day for gardening. It’s just…” Now that he thinks about it, he isn’t really sure what’s stopping him. He shrugs and keeps sucking on his popsicle.

Kuroo watches him for a long time. Too long. Kenma glances at him, frowning, and Kuroo looks away the moment he does, cheeks looking a bit too red. 

After a while, Kuroo chuckles. “I should have brought a watermelon instead. Think of how traditional we could have looked, eating watermelon slices on the engawa on a hot summer afternoon. You should have installed a wind chime above us.”

Kenma rolls his eyes but smiles all the same. “And what else? A bowl with a goldfish I won at a festival? A whole string of balloon yo-yos? Colored sparklers? Oh I know. I could ask my mom to bring me my old yukata and we could go out to a festival sometime.”

Kuroo laughs, loud and full-bodied, and Kenma smiles to himself. “It’s been a while since I’ve been to a festival. I hear the noise and the fireworks all the time from my apartment but I always thought that summer festivals were more for kids and teenagers.”

“You sound like an old man again.”

“If I’m an old man, what does that make you?”

“A much younger old man.”

Kuroo laughs. “Were you actually serious about the festival thing?”

“Did you want to? Go to a festival, I mean.”

Kuroo hums and leans back against his arms. “It’s been a while. I don’t remember the last time I ever went to one. It was probably with my co-workers about a year or so ago. You?”

Kenma shrugs. “Not since college, when my mom forced me into a yukata and you dragged me outside.”

“Whoa, that long? We’re going then, whether or not you wanted to.”

Kenma makes a face and Kuroo laughs at him but if he were telling the truth, Kenma had hoped Kuroo would want to go. It has been too long, even if the crowds and loud noises aren’t really his thing. 

He doesn’t tell Kuroo that the reason he hasn’t been to a festival lately is mostly because he has no one to go with him. Kuroo had always been the one to suggest it, the one who would beg and annoy him until Kenma had no choice but to go. He would arrive at Kenma’s house an hour early because he was just too excited to sit still and wanted to play all the games before the lines formed. Once Kuroo was out of the picture, there had been no one else. Kenma knew that Yamamoto and Fukunaga were always in the area and would have gone with him if he asked. But it would be different. Festivals had always been his and Kuroo’s thing. The others from Nekoma may have gone with them once or twice before but Kuroo had always been there. Having the rest without Kuroo felt wrong. It just wasn’t the same.

“If you want to go, I guess I can come with.” 

Kuroo smiles and it’s knowing and secretive, like he can hear the words Kenma isn’t saying, like he’s spent years deciphering the intent behind everything Kenma says. “Sure.”

They sit and eat the rest of their popsicles in silence before they flick their wooden popsicle sticks into the yard to be overrun by grass in a few days. Every once in a while, a low breeze would blow from beyond the wall, and Kenma closes his eyes as he feels it brush against his face. When he opens his eyes again, Kuroo is staring at him and he raises an eyebrow in question. But Kuroo only waves his hand dismissively and turns back to stare out at the yard.

Kenma isn’t sure how long they sit there in silence. At one point, they both lie down on their backs, their legs hanging off the engawa. Kuroo folds his hands behind his head and when he talks, his tone is low and easygoing, perfectly at ease.

Kenma quips in every now and again but mostly he remains quiet, content for now to listen to Kuroo speak. He suggests more than once during lulls in the conversation that they break out the ice cream but none of them move to take it out.

Kenma stares at the patterns of sunlight on the ceiling of the engawa. He pictures Kuroo’s voice like a wave in an ocean, rising and falling like the breeze across their skin, calm and gentle and rhythmic, following a slow easy beat that only Kuroo knows. It’s enough to make him drowsy.

When he talks, there’s no animosity. There’s none of that hostility they had at the start, no latent passive aggressiveness that spoke of a lingering bitterness. For one moment on a summer day, they are simply what they’ve always been before they became exes — they are childhood friends, best friends even, whiling away a lazy afternoon together.

It’s always been like this, Kenma thinks right before he drops off to sleep. Kuroo could talk for forever, never running out of things to say, and Kenma would listen. Closing his eyes like this, he can almost picture themselves in his room in his parents’ house after school, the fighting game they were playing left on pause. They lay on his bed with the window open and Kuroo’s feet tap a rhythm against the floor because that was how long his body was even back then. 

The heat doesn’t feel as harsh on Kenma’s face when he wakes up from his nap sometime later. The worst of the heatwave seems to have passed and there’s a telltale chill in the air, suggesting that it may be close to nightfall. Kenma can almost believe that he’s back in his parents’ house, taking a well-deserved nap after a tough day at practice. He made the mistake of going to sleep in his gym clothes and he can feel the gross layer of sweat that’s dried on his skin. Any minute now, his mom’s going to call him down to dinner. In fact, he might even be able to smell it cooking from here. 

Ah, and there’s Kuroo’s hand on his face. Kenma hates how sappy and romantic the gesture is but it’s still comforting. He must have come over to see Kenma and caught him while he was asleep. There’s a small fond breath of laughter and Kenma already knows that he’s thinking of how best to wake him. Or rather, what’s the most ridiculous thing he can do to Kenma before he notices and wakes up. 

But Kuroo’s hand stays on Kenma’s face. No, it’s his knuckles, feather-light against Kenma’s cheek before his fingers brush a strand of hair out of his face. Kuroo runs his fingers as gently as he can through Kenma’s hair and Kenma feels them tug against his scalp. He stirs and the fingers freeze but when Kenma stills and makes no move to open his eyes, the fingers continue to their soft combing.

If Kenma could purr, he would. He snuggles closer to the warmth of Kuroo’s hand and for one moment, he’s content to stay that way, to let Kuroo run his fingers through his hair and lull him back into another nap.

Then his phone buzzes somewhere above his head, sending its vibrations through the wooden floorboards, and like an ocean wave crashing down on him, it all comes back to Kenma.

This isn’t his parents’ house and he and Kuroo aren’t in high school anymore. They’re in his house in Tokyo and he and Kuroo are exes pretending to still be together.

And Kuroo’s hand is still in his hair.

Kenma isn’t sure what’s worse — waking up so Kuroo would stop or feigning sleep for as long as he can so Kuroo won’t stop.

His phone buzzes again.

Above him, Kuroo hums a familiar tune.

His phone buzzes for the third time.

Kenma stirs and begins moving his stiff joints one by one to give the impression that he’s just getting roused from sleep. He stretches his legs out and gives a humongous yawn and Kuroo quickly retracts his hand. As soon as they’re gone, Kenma misses the feeling of Kuroo’s fingers in his hair but he doesn’t say anything and opens his eyes.

He blinks up at his ceiling, at the yellow-orange light of the sunset and turns his head to find Kuroo sitting up beside him with a gallon of ice cream in his lap and a spoon hanging from his lips. He takes it out and grins. “Mornin’, sleepyhead.”

Kenma doesn’t say anything at first. He simply scowls at him before he sits up with some effort and pulls the tub of ice cream towards him. Kuroo offers him an extra spoon and Kenma digs in. Never mind that it’s close to dinner and this is his third helping of ice cream in a row.

They end up ordering takeout for dinner later. The old Chinese place that served Kenma bad food and gave him food poisoning is still around, much to their surprise, and they decide to order from there partly because it’s cheap but partly as a joke.

Their food tastes fine this time, thank god, and they eat it in Kenma’s home theatre after Kuroo challenges Kenma to a game of Smash Bros, confident this time that he can beat him even if Kenma gets Meta Knight. 

A dozen games later, Kenma wins eight out of twelve and Kuroo declares it a win anyway. It’s way past ten o’clock and Kuroo has just suggested that they play a round of Mario Kart instead. 

Kenma wants to ask about work, wants to ask Kuroo if there’s some things that he needs to get done that he’s been ignoring, but he takes one look at Kuroo’s face and forgets whatever question is waiting on his tongue.

How many days does this make? How many days since he’s started seeing Kuroo on nearly a daily basis again? More times than before, that’s for sure. More times than the last few weeks of their relationship. Hell, back then, he would have been lucky to see Kuroo just once a week. Now he’s seeing him four times a week at most.

Kenma’s not sure if Kuroo’s spending less time at work just to spend more time with him and even if he asked, he’s sure Kuroo wouldn’t give him a straight answer. 

But then again, Kuroo has always been much better at managing his time than Kenma is. And if there’s one thing that Kenma has learnt since he became CEO of his company, it’s that learning to manage your time takes time itself. 

He would never have had this much free time four years ago. Hell, he was barely scraping by four years ago, not even sure if his company was still going to be around next year. The only reason he can even stay up this late on a Sunday night playing his seventh round of Mario Kart and eating his second gallon of ice cream with Kuroo is because he learned four years ago how to manage his time better.

He can’t help but wonder, as he waits for Kuroo to come back from a rather long bathroom break, if maybe their relationship would have worked out had they learned how to manage their time sooner. Was that really all that they were missing? Better time management skills? Or was there just something bigger than them at work, forces that they couldn’t control, some sort of inevitability driving them towards the same end no matter what they did?

What if things had been this way four years ago, if Kuroo had this much free time to spend with Kenma and Kenma the same, would things have been any different?

Kenma’s no close to getting answers by the time Kuroo returns, looking more than a bit relieved, and his thoughts follow him as they race through Rainbow Road, as he makes his turns fairly easily and laughs as Kuroo drives off course for the umpteenth time and yells profanities at the TV. 

“You tired of losing yet?” Kenma says after he wins another circuit.

Kuroo glares at him from over his shoulder. “ You tired of winning yet?”

Kenma shrugs. “I could stand to win a few more rounds if you’re up to losing some more.”

Kuroo grins and opens his mouth but the chime of his phone alarm beats him to it. Kuroo sighs and silences it before getting up and putting his controller down. 

“Ah, that’s my cue to leave. Sorry. Wish I could stay and eat more ice cream and beat you in Mario Kart but I better get going.”

Kenma scoffs as he stands and leads Kuroo out of the room. “You’re just a sore loser.”

Kuroo snorts. “Okay I am, but this is totally unrelated, I swear.”

They reach the genkan and Kenma watches Kuroo put on his shoes, trying to remember the last time he did four years ago and if he knew back then that it would be the last time.

“Oh hey, I almost forgot.” Kuroo stands and faces Kenma. “Bokuto and Akaashi invited us over to their place for dinner next weekend. You coming?”

Kenma blinks. “Why?”

“Nothing really, it’s just been a while since they saw us. If you ask me, I guess they just wanted to see us before the wedding.”

Ah. Right. The wedding. The reason they were even here in the first place.

“Right.” Kenma nods slowly. “That’s soon, isn’t it?”

Kuroo snorts. “Don’t tell me you forgot. It’s almost time for your second fitting and everything.”

“No, I remember. Um. Yeah. I’ll be there. At Bokuto and Akaashi’s, I mean. You’re right, it has been a while since we’ve seen them.”

Kuroo is staring at him now, long and hard. “You all right, Kenma?”

“Yeah,” Kenma answers too quickly. “I’m fine. So, when are we meeting Bokuto and Akaashi for dinner? Or, is it Bokuto and Bokuto? I’m never sure anymore.”

“Pretty sure Akaashi still answers to Akaashi regardless. But anyways, we can meet at the train station around six or five and we’d get to their place at seven or so. Sound good?”

“Yeah. Okay. Wh-What should I wear?”

“Hmm, maybe business casual? Knowing Bokuto, he’d probably want it to be more casual, but knowing Akaashi, he’d try to get Bokuto into something at least semi-formal anyway.”

They share a small laugh at that before silence descends upon them and Kenma clears his throat pointedly. “Well, I guess I’ll see you then.”

Kuroo nods. He hesitates for a moment before he reaches out and tucks a strand of hair behind Kenma’s ear. Kenma freezes, eyes going wide, as Kuroo leans forward and plants a quick kiss on his forehead. It happens so fast Kenma barely has time to register it and by the time it does click in his head that yes, that did just happen , Kuroo is out of the door and briskly walking away from his house, determinedly refusing to look back.

Kenma closes the door and leans against it. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. The butterflies in his stomach remind him too much of the first time Kuroo had kissed him, in the yard between their houses, in full view of both their living room windows.

He wonders how he could get the same feeling he did then from something as small and as innocent as a quick peck on the forehead and he wonders if maybe four years of having absolutely no sexual contact with anyone have just made him even more repressed than he thought he was. 

But he already knows, as he gathers the dirty spoons and empty tub of ice cream and leaves it in the sink for the night, that even if it had been someone else, he wouldn’t be feeling quite as giddy as he is now.

It’s different because it’s Kuroo. 

That’s how it’s always been.

Even four years later, none of it is any different. 

****

Time goes on in much the same way it always does.

Apologies are said, broken edges softened and mended as best as they can be, but never ending up quite the same.

What had once been good and constant turn into dates cancelled at the last minute, hurried apologies over the phone, and days and days of silence that seem to stretch on for longer than that. 

Kenma doesn’t wake to morning greetings and his days aren’t filled with the trivial nonsense that Kuroo used to send him every day. Kenma gets up every morning with no time to spare thinking about Kuroo and what he could be doing, why he’s been too busy to even bother with a single message lately, and goes through the motions 一 eat, work, eat again, do more work, go to sleep.

It’s all he ever does now 一 just goes through the motions. Practiced and precise, never straying too far from convention, doing the exact same things that he’s done the day before and the day before that and the day before that and the day before that. It’s empty and it’s stagnant and it’s soulless and demanding but Kenma doesn’t have the time to worry about that. There are reports to be filed, accounts to be managed, numbers to crunch and letters to write. 

Eat, work, eat, work, sleep. Repeat.

Kuroo doesn’t show up to Kenma’s house unannounced anymore. In fact, he barely shows up at all. It’s always the same excuses. I’m busy. I have something else to do then. I’m too tired. I’m sorry but I just can’t. Kenma’s heard it all, both coming from his own mouth and from Kuroo’s.

But where before it would have annoyed him, would have sent him spiralling into doubt and overthinking, now he lets it be. He’s grown numb to it, grown too used to being disappointed when his expectations aren’t met. So he learns not to expect anything anymore, and if he does, only the bare minimum. Kenma puts his phone down and locks himself in his study, and when he’s done and checks his phone one more time before bed, he doesn’t expect to hear from Kuroo. He doesn’t expect Kuroo to be free on Friday nights or on weekends. He doesn’t expect Kuroo to check up on him and ask about his day or go out of his way to come over anymore. He doesn’t expect anything from Kuroo and, in turn, he hopes Kuroo won’t expect so much from him.

And it’s nice, sometimes, to not expect anything. No expectations mean you’re not disappointed when things go awry and Kenma’s tired of being disappointed. Kenma is tired of expecting.

And Kuroo must be as well.

Learning from his slip-up from before, Kuroo doesn't bother Kenma anymore while he’s working, which nowadays, has been all the time. Kuroo learns not to expect an answer within the day or within the week or the month even. He learns not to expect the worst to happen when Kenma’s too busy or too tired to pick up his phone. He learns not to expect Kenma to be at his best at all times when he asks if he can come over or if he’s in the mood to talk.

No expectations means no disappointments.

And no disappointments mean a lasting relationship; even if it goes stagnant, even if it becomes repetitive, even if it doesn’t feel like much of a relationship anymore. At least it lasts.

And it does for a while, longer than the both of them probably thought it would.

Eat, work, eat, work, sleep. Repeat. And repeat. And repeat. And repeat.

Their lives fall into that same repetitive cycle and before they both know it, months pass. 

They still see each other, but sparingly, and never at good times. When they go out of their way to spend time with each other, to talk to each other in more than just the short text messages they send, it feels more like an obligation, like showing up to class for the attendance points and nothing else. When they talk, it feels rehearsed 一 like going through the motions. 

How has your day been? How is work? Man, that sucks. Anyway, how is your work? That also sucks.

Eat, work, eat, work, sleep. 

And repeat.

How was your work this week?

Man, that sucks. 

I’m sorry but I can’t today.

No expectations means no disappointments.

They go out on holidays. Make a point to see each other and go on a few dates and act like the couple that they’re supposed to be. They hold hands, open doors for each other, lean on each other on the train, kiss each other goodbye before they leave. Sometimes they’ll have sex and it relieves some of the tension, lets out all the stress they’ve let build up over the week, and they’ll tell each other then that they love each other, that they can’t live without the other.

But it’s nothing new, nothing that they haven’t said or done before, and it’s just another part of another routine.

It’s just going through the motions. 

Eat, work, eat, work, sleep.

Repeat.

Of course they still love each other. Of course they care about each other. Of course they still want to be together. They’ve been friends for longer than they’ve been a couple and they aren’t completely sick of each other yet. And that’s a good thing, right?

Even if they don’t have the time or the energy to spare for that love anymore. Even if they’ve fallen into a stagnant rut. At least it lasts, right? It’s better than having nothing at all, right?

Eat, work, eat, work, sleep.

Repeat.

How was work this week?

Man, that sucks.

Sorry but I have other plans.

Eat, work, eat, work, sleep.

Repeat.

Go through the motions one more time. Just for one more time. They tell each other this constantly. Just one more time, and then I promise, things will get better after this. I’ll have more time. I won’t be as busy. We can be happy once more. We just need to go through the motions just one more time.

They go through the motions.

And then they do it again.

I’m too busy right now.

I’m sorry.

Eat, work, eat, work, sleep.

Repeat.

Another anniversary comes and goes and neither of them notices. 

Chapter Text

They show up to Bokuto and Akaashi’s place with a bottle of red wine and about half an hour to spare. Kenma’s never been to Bokuto and Akaashi’s place before; or at least, the fancy new place that they’ve been living in for the past four years apparently. So he’s stunned when they arrive at one of the more upscale neighbourhoods of Tokyo and stand in front of a pristine white building with well-kept sprawling gardens and a pool on the rooftop, at least according to Kuroo.

The lobby is as neat as a hotel’s, with a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling, and the elevator buttons list a total of thirty floors, not counting the basements and the rooftop. 

“How do Bokuto and Akaashi afford to live here?” Kenma asks in incredulity as Kuroo presses the button for the twenty-fifth floor.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Kuroo answers flippantly, “maybe because Bokuto’s some bigshot Olympic volleyball star now and practically a household name and he spoils Akaashi rotten?”

“Don’t think Akaashi will appreciate the implication that Bokuto pays for everything in the relationship.”

“Okay sure, Akaashi earns a lot more than he did at the start, but we all know who the real breadwinner of the family is.”

Kenma picks at the buttons of the shirt he wears under his jacket, the closest thing to a hoodie he can get away with wearing. “I feel underdressed somehow.”

Kuroo looks him up and down. “You’re fine. If Bokuto had his way, he would have us show up in t-shirts and sweatpants. Don’t think Akaashi expects too much from us at this point.”

“Still.” Kenma fidgets with the strap of his bag and watches the numbers above the elevator door count upwards.

“Hey.” Kuroo lays a hand on his shoulder and smiles. “Relax. It’ll be fine.”

Kenma stares back at him uncertainly before he nods and looks back down. Kuroo lets his hand linger on his shoulder for a second longer before he drops it. Kenma wishes he would have let it stay there a little bit longer.

“I don’t think I need to tell you this,” Kuroo says, “but this’ll be the first time we actually have to act like we’re a couple. Think of it like practice before the real thing.”

“Is this supposed to help me relax? Because I’m telling you right now, it’s not working.”

Kuroo chuckles. “Yeah. But no pressure, you know?”

Kenma scoffs. “Yeah. No pressure at all.”

“Hey. Just think of it this way. We’ve already done it before. We can do it again.”

Kenma closes his eyes and sighs. “Right.”

And then what? What if it works? We just keep this up till the wedding, in front of our friends who we’ve known for years? And what if it doesn’t? Are we going to call the whole thing off, declare it a bust, and just go back to the way things were? Which one is worse?

“Kenma?”

Kenma looks up at Kuroo. “Yeah?”

Kuroo frowns down at him, looking a bit concerned. “You looked like you were one second away from throwing up. You okay?”

“Yeah,” Kenma answers without hesitation just as the elevator doors slide open on the twenty-fifth floor. “Let’s just get this over with.”

They step off the elevator and find the door to Bokuto and Akaashi’s flat. There’s a noise like a hurricane wreaking havoc on the other side when they ring the doorbell and not a moment later, the door is thrown open by a grinning Bokuto with arms open wide.

“Hey hey hey!” he gives his customary greeting before he throws his arms around Kuroo and pulls him inside. “So glad you two could make it!”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world.” Kuroo laughs as Bokuto noogies him.

“Kenma, hey!” Before Kenma can react, Bokuto grabs his arm and pulls him inside, closing the door behind him as he goes. “Haven’t seen you in so long! How have you been?”

“Oh.” Kenma flinches and gives a nervous little laugh. He had forgotten how much of a presence Bokuto had. There’s a bright exuberant energy that comes off of him in waves and while it isn’t bad by any means, it is pretty intimidating. “I’ve been good, I guess.”

“Kuroo needs to bring you around more often,” Bokuto says. “He always says you’re busy every time we ask. You can’t be that buried in your work, can you?”

Kenma isn’t sure what to say and he can feel a familiar panic begin to set in. But he’s saved from having to answer by the arrival of Akaashi who comes up from behind Bokuto and places a patient hand on his arm. 

“Koutarou, let’s try not to interrogate our guests about personal matters I’m sure they don’t want to talk about right now.”

Kenma breathes a silent sigh of relief. “Hello, Akaashi.”

Akaashi smiles at him knowingly and nods. “Hello, Kenma. It really has been a while. Glad to see you’re doing well.”

“You too,” Kenma replies. 

“We brought wine!” Kuroo hands the bottle of red wine to Akaashi who takes it with a polite smile. “Thank you, you two. We can drink it after dinner.”

“And I, uh. Brought my Switch,” Kenma adds in a small voice.

“Hell yeah!” Bokuto pumps his fist into the air. “Did you bring Mario Party?”

Before Kenma can answer that yes, he did in fact bring Mario Party, Akaashi places a hand on Bokuto’s shoulder and says, “Now Koutarou, let’s let our guests settle in first before we do anything else.”

“Ah, right! Keiji’s almost done with dinner!” Bokuto says as he and Akaashi lead Kuroo and Kenma inside. The living room is big, bigger than Kenma’s even, and with an immaculate cleanliness that he’s come to expect from Akaashi. There’s not a single stain or speck of dust on the glass coffee table in front of the couch and the carpet looks like it was just dry cleaned. The books on the shelves are arranged both by size and color and every single houseplant in the area - Kenma counts four in the living room so far - look neat and healthy and complement the interior’s decorations nicely.

But here and there, there’s reminders that Bokuto lives here too, like the bulky treadmill crammed into a corner of the room, the discarded t-shirt draped over the back of a chair, and the signed volleyball just lying on the couch which Akaashi quickly grabs and discreetly passes to Bokuto before he retreats into the kitchen.

“Kenma, you can set up your Switch here!” Bokuto gestures to the widescreen TV mounted on one side of the wall while Kuroo goes to sit on the couch. Bokuto leaves to put away the volleyball somewhere and Kenma silently hooks his Switch up to their TV.

“You okay?” Kuroo asks from the couch. Kenma jumps and turns around to look at him. “Yeah,” he says as he turns back to the task at hand. “I’m fine. I know Bokuto and Akaashi.”

“So!” Bokuto comes barrelling back into the room, grinning from ear to ear. “What’re we playing first? Ooh, did you bring extra controllers? I’m sure we could get Akaashi to join!”

“Maybe we should let Akaashi focus on the dinner first.” Kenma stands and hands one of the controllers to Bokuto. He goes to sit on the couch and hands Kuroo the other controller. 

As Kenma grabs a throw pillow and holds it to his chest, Kuroo drapes an arm over the back of the couch and Kenma flinches as he feels its weight around his shoulders. “Relax,” Kuroo says in Kenma’s ear. “Just act natural.”

“Natural?” Kenma says before Bokuto innocently asks about the controls and Kuroo and Kenma both snap back to attention. Once Bokuto gets reacquainted with the controls, they start a game and Kenma tries not to think too much about the way Kuroo drapes his arms around Kenma’s shoulders when he’s done with his turn or the way he seems to be subtly leaning against Kenma the whole time, so close that Kenma can feel the vibrations from his body whenever he speaks. 

At one point, he starts playing with Kenma’s hair, running his fingers through the strands gathered at the nape of Kenma’s neck and it takes all of Kenma’s willpower not to flinch or shiver every time he feels the warmth of Kuroo’s fingers ghost over the back of his neck ever so slightly.

It’s a relief when Akaashi calls them to dinner in the middle of their third game and Kuroo finally stops. Kuroo pulls his chair out for him and Kenma spends one second being taken aback by the gesture, because he’s never really done that before, before he takes his seat and tries to brush it off and act like it’s normal. Because it is. Because Kuroo does it all the time, apparently, because they are a couple who do coupley things. No big deal.

At least he doesn’t need to speak much around Bokuto and Akaashi. They know each other well enough that he doesn’t feel the need to act more social than he really is. They know that if Kenma wants to talk, he will, and if he’s quiet, it isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Besides, Bokuto and Kuroo already do a good job keeping the conversation going by themselves and keeping the atmosphere light and welcoming. It’s easy to get lost in their talking, to feel as if he’s a part of the conversation even though he’s not participating in it.

“Kenma.”

“Hm?” Kenma looks up from his plate to face Akaashi sitting across him. 

Akaashi clears his throat before asking, “How is the food?”

“Oh it’s good. You really outdid yourself, Akaashi.”

Akaashi smiles, genuinely flattered, and it’s making Kenma want to smile as well. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

“How has work been? I heard that Udai-san got a new manga deal.”

“Ah yes. We’re taking a break as of the moment for Udai-san’s health but we’ll be back to work on it soon. I hope Udai-san actually heeds my advice this time and takes an actual break instead of spending his days off brainstorming and sketching. He can’t afford to injure himself again after that recent spat with the publisher.”

Kenma chuckles. “Sounds like a lot of work.”

Akaashi laughs, a little self-deprecating. “It is. But I’m sure you have your fair share of work problems to deal with too.”

“Mhm,” Kenma hums. “I can think of one or two. But I don’t really want to discuss work right now if you don’t mind.”

“Agreed.” Akaashi takes a sip from his glass of water before giving Kenma his full attention again. “So, Hinata and Kageyama are getting married.”

Kenma nods. “Yeah. Wild, isn’t it?”

“Very. But not surprising. I always thought that it was only a matter of time.”

“Reminds me of you and Bokuto.”

Akaashi blinks then smiles. “Yes, I suppose that was only a matter of time too.” Kenma doesn’t miss the way Akaashi touches the golden band around his ring finger with his index.

Kenma smiles. “It’s nice to see the two of you together. It feels like everything’s right with the world.”

Akaashi blushes. “Thank you. I’m glad to see you and Kuroo together again as well. I can’t recall the last time I saw you two in the same room.”

The wording is enough to nearly send Kenma into a panic and hopes that Akaashi doesn’t notice. “I’m sure Kuro’s already told you guys my excuses for me so I won’t bore you by repeating them.”

Akaashi nods sagely as he takes another sip of his drink. “I’ll be honest, I found it hard to believe that you weren’t around for things like Kuroo’s birthday or that you forgot to even invite Kuroo to yours but I wouldn’t want to pry.”

Kenma would say that he’s prying pretty hard right now but he knows better and he reminds himself that even if Akaashi is one of the most observant people he knows, he can’t read minds and can’t possibly know about everything. Right?

“Well.” Kenma shrugs. “It’s not easy being a CEO I guess. Lots of work to do. Can’t always catch a break when I want to, you know.”

“Indeed. We should do something for your birthday. To make up for lost time.”

“Sounds cool.”

Akaashi hums. “We could do something for Kuroo’s birthday as well since you missed it last year.”

Kenma nods. “Yeah. So much work piled up then. I was holed up in my office for days.”

Akaashi looks up at Kenma in bewilderment. “But I remember Kuroo saying that you went to visit your parents that day. I could be wrong, though I’m fairly certain that’s what he said.”

Kenma pauses with the fork halfway to his mouth. “Oh. Did he?” He glances at Kuroo but finds that he’s still deep in conversation with Bokuto to even notice. 

Akaashi frowns. “Do you...not remember?”

“Ah!” Kenma says, loud enough to get both Kuroo and Bokuto’s attention. “I remember now! Yes, my parents were clamoring for me to visit so I took some of my work home with me. Isn’t that right, Kuro?”

He sends a pointed look in Kuroo’s direction. Kuroo stares at him for a long moment before he finally reads the silent plea in Kenma’s eyes and nods along. “Ah, yes, right! That’s our Kenma. So hardworking!”

Okay they might have laid it on a bit too thick there but it does the trick. Akaashi shrugs and nods, seeming convinced for the time being. “I’m sorry. That was a bit rude of me to mention, wasn’t it? And right after I said I didn’t want to pry.”

“Oh, no.” Kenma shakes his head and offers a small half-hearted laugh. “It’s okay. My fault for getting my memory mixed up.”

“Mhm.” Akaashi smiles but his eyes don’t do the same. There’s still a hint of bemusement, a lingering question. Bokuto is glancing between the three of them, a look of innocent confusion on his face. “Uhh, guys? What’s going on?”

Kuroo clears his throat loudly. “You guys were, uhh, talking about the wedding, right? So, Kageyama and Hinata. Wild, huh?”

Kenma feels like he’s going to implode on the spot under Akaashi’s keen gaze but thankfully Bokuto takes Kuroo’s bait. “Oh yeah, I’m so happy for them and so excited for the big day! Right, Keiji?” 

Akaashi finally turns away from Kenma and looks to Bokuto. “Yes, Koutarou. We all are.”

“Are you guys planning to get them a gift? That’s usually what they do in foreign countries, right? I was gonna get them something for volleyball, like knee pads or new shoes, but Keiji told me that it would be inappropriate for a wedding.”

“The word I used was ‘unsuited’ for a wedding but I suppose ‘inappropriate’ would work in a pinch.”

Kenma breaths a silent sigh of relief as the conversation veers away from himself. He’s quiet for the rest of dinner, chiming in only when he needs to. He’s acutely aware of all the glances Akaashi sends his way but he’s content for now to ignore them. As long as they don’t give away too much, they’ll be fine. It was one slip-up, one minor mistake that can easily be chalked up to a faulty memory. It isn’t anything suspicious. Or at least, that’s what he keeps telling himself till they all finish dinner.

They go back to their paused game of Mario Party and Akaashi breaks out the wine they had brought. It’s enough to provide a little distraction, a little levity, and the more wine he has, the less Kenma pays attention to where Kuroo is putting his hands or how close he’s getting. And if he finds himself leaning against Kuroo as well, if he rests his hand on Kuroo’s knee or on his arm, then he’s blaming it entirely on the wine and the act that they have to keep up now.

It isn’t long before Kenma feels himself relax a little bit. He laughs more easily at the others’ blunders and even makes his own here and there. He gets a bit more competitive and trash talky but it isn’t anything new to any of them. At the very least, he’s glad that he doesn’t have to act that different from how he usually is. There’s just the added layer of pretending that four years of separation and awkward silence hadn’t happened between him and Kuroo but it’s easy not to dwell too much on it when he’s absolutely crushing Bokuto in the Trike Harder mini game.

Other than the question from earlier, Akaashi seems to have left the matter alone for now and Kenma is glad that it didn’t actually come down to him and Kuroo getting quizzed on their own relationship by Bokuto and Akaashi. It sounds silly to him in retrospect but he remembers running through possible questions and answers in his head on the train ride here as seriously as if he were preparing for his college entrance exams. 

This is turning out to be much simpler than he had thought. At least after he got over the initial surprise at all the intimacy Kuroo initiates, there isn’t much else he has to fake. He doesn’t have to force a snarky reply for every gross romantic joke or comment Kuroo makes, nor does he have to force himself to act sappier than he really is. For the first time since he first thought of it, Kenma thinks that this might actually work. They might actually be able to pull this off. Well, at least, provided that nobody asks them about anything that may or may not have happened in the last four years. 

“More wine, Kenma?”

Kenma blinks and suddenly Akaashi is sitting beside him with the nearly empty bottle of red wine in hand. “Though, now that I look at you now, I’m not sure if I should be offering you any more.”

Kenma reaches up to feel his cheeks and is surprised to find them warm. He looks down at his half empty glass before he puts it down on the coffee table. (Akaashi swiftly places a coaster down in between the glass and the table.) “Yeah, you’re right,” Kenma says. “Someone’s gonna have to stay sober at the end of the night and I doubt it’s going to be Kuro.”

Akaashi chuckles and places another coaster on the table before putting the bottle down. He leans back against the couch with his own glass of wine in hand and they watch as Bokuto and Kuroo start a game of Smash Bros and argue over who gets to play as Fox.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Akaashi asks.

“Yeah, actually I am,” Kenma replies, surprised at how quickly and honestly he answered.

“I’m really glad that you are,” Akaashi says. “Serious. For how long we hadn’t seen you, I almost thought that you were avoiding us for some reason.”

Kenma feels a pang of guilt. “I’m sorry. I promise I haven’t been avoiding you.” It was really more of a specific situation that he’s been avoiding rather than a specific person, though he has been doing that for four years up until he contacted Kuroo. But that’s not the point. 

What is his point anyway?

Akaashi laughs and claps Kenma lightly on the back. “Your word is good enough.” He pauses and seems to mull something over in his head before he finally breathes in and says, “Can I ask you something that might be a bit personal, Kenma? Um, maybe not here though, if you don’t mind.”

Kenma nods before his brain can catch up to what Akaashi meant and by the time Akaashi is leading him out towards their balcony, telling Bokuto and Kuroo that they’re only getting some fresh air, he realizes that this could very well be the quiz that he spent an entire train ride dreading and Kenma feels his stomach lurch at the thought.

Or, actually, it could be lurching for an entirely different reason. But he swallows down as much of it as he can as he leans against the railing and runs through his and Kuroo’s entire shared history.

They met as kids. Kuroo introduced him to volleyball. They both played in Nekoma. Kuroo went to Kanagawa U. No, wait, he went to Kanagawa. What university did Kuroo go to again?

“Are you okay?” Akaashi interrupts his train of thought.

“Fine.” Kenma waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t worry about me.”

The wind out on the balcony is cold and bracing and Kenma pulls his jacket closer to himself as he stares down at the bright yellow lights of the Tokyo suburbs. “Y-You wanted to ask me something?”

“Yes.” Akaashi turns his body to face him fully, face suddenly very serious. “Did something happen between you and Kuroo recently?”

Kenma sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. “How recent are we talking about here?”

Akaashi shrugs. “As recent as you want.”

Kenma hums as he follows a car’s tail lights through a narrow deserted road below before it disappears out of sight. “I can think of a couple things.” 

“Anything major perhaps?”

“Define major.”

Akaashi shrugs again. “Anything really serious, I suppose.”

Well a break-up’s pretty serious, right? “Not really. Why are you suddenly interested?”

Akaashi looks out towards the city. “Lately, Kuroo’s been...cagey, for lack of a better word, when it comes to you and him. He seemed so avoidant and not his usual self.”

“What do you mean?”

Akaashi sighs. “He seemed...closed off. On edge, almost. Whenever anyone would ask about you, he’d try to brush it off and give an excuse. But something kept telling me that something was wrong. I might be prying too much into your personal matters again, but nothing happened, right?”

“No.” Kenma shakes his head. “Just an argument that we let go on for too long, probably. It’s nothing you need to worry about. We’re fine now.”

“I can see that.” Akaashi looks back through the glass doors of the balcony towards where Bokuto and Kuroo are still playing. Bokuto is standing on the couch, furiously button mashing, while Kuroo sits cross-legged on the floor, eyes wide and fixed entirely on the screen.

Akaashi chuckles. “I’m not sure what but something’s definitely changed with Kuroo. I haven’t seen him this relaxed in a while. I assume you two reached a resolution?”

‘Reached a resolution’ is a bit of a stretch but Kenma nods, watching Kuroo practically foaming at the mouth as Bokuto pushes him off a platform again. “Yeah. It’s all good now. But that still doesn’t explain why you’re suddenly so interested in us. Akaashi Keiji, meddling in other people’s affairs?”

Akaashi actually throws his head back and laughs. “Let me be the first to admit that this isn’t like me. But you know, it’s like what you said about Koutarou and I. Seeing you and Kuroo together makes me feel like everything’s okay. It just feels...right.”

Something writhes in Kenma’s gut, literally and emotionally. 

“Besides,” Akaashi continues, “Koutarou kind of asked me to look into it too. He was getting really worried about the both of you.”

“Sorry to have worried you,” Kenma mumbles.

Akaashi shakes his head. “There’s no need to apologize. We’re not immune to our own disagreements either. You’d be surprised how many arguments we’d have over the pettiest things.”

“Tell me about it,” Kenma says before he can think but Akaashi chuckles and nods. “I couldn’t agree more,” he says. 

“Hey, can I ask you something personal now?” Kenma asks.

Akaashi smiles wryly and shrugs. “Sure. Seems fair enough.”

Do you guys ever get tired of each other? How do you stay together for this long without things getting stale and feeling like you’re going nowhere, like you’re stuck on a level and can’t progress no matter what you try? Are you ever scared that you’re making the wrong choices, for you and for Bokuto?

Say that you and Bokuto kind of fell out of love and broke up and you didn’t tell any of your friends until you had to call Bokuto up four years later to ask him to go with you to your friend’s wedding because they still think you two are together but then you start getting all confused because you’re spending time with each other again and you can’t stop thinking about what ifs and why nots and getting lost in the past and the possibilities like you’re in a sappy romcom or something; how would you handle that particular situation?

Kenma breathes in deeply. “Who really pays for this place, you or Bokuto?”

“I do,” Akaashi replies without missing a beat.

Kenma raises his eyebrows. “You do?”

“Koutarou can say that he earns the most all he wants,” Akaashi says, leaning towards Kenma conspiratorially, “but the thing about marriage is, it isn’t his money anymore.”

“It’s both of your money now?”

“No. It’s mine. All of it. I’m the one doing the accounting.”

Kenma chuckles and nods his head. “Makes sense.”

Akaashi is still staring at him with his head tilted to the side. “Was that really all you wanted to ask?”

Kenma meets Akaashi’s eyes for a brief moment and the truth is right there on the tip of his tongue. 

“Yeah,” Kenma says. “That’s all.”

“Hey, you two better not be talking shit about us out here.” Kuroo stands in the doorway leading back into the flat, arms crossed over his chest. “You look like you’re having too much fun.”

“I’m sorry,” Akaashi says. “I just wanted to talk to Kenma in private. He’s all yours.” 

Akaashi pats him on the shoulder once before he walks past Kuroo and closes the glass door halfway. Kuroo glances between him and Kenma. “You two really weren’t talking shit about me, were you?”

Kenma gives a devious little smile. “Did you give us any reason to?”

“Never mind.” Kuroo walks over to lean against the railing beside Kenma. “Sooo...what were you guys talking about?” he asks.

“Oh nothing,” Kenma says. “Just about how bad you are at pretending to be fine.”

Kuroo’s face falls. “Ah. Akaashi could tell?”

Kenma nods and Kuroo sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Well, what did you tell him?”

“I just said we had a couple arguments. You know, normal couple stuff.”

“Normal couple stuff. Sure.”

Kenma feels another lurch from the bottom of his stomach and he grits his teeth, trying to think about anything but the bile that’s threatening to boil up and out of his throat. 

“Hey,” he asks, staring at the lights, telephone poles and illuminated billboards that stretch out far beyond the horizon. “You still up for this?”

Kuroo frowns. “For what?”

“You know.” Kenma gestures between them. “This. Like, what’s in it for you? ‘Cause if you were hoping to get compensated somehow, I can probably work something out一”

“It’s not money I want, don’t worry.”

Kenma looks at him. “Then what do you want?”

Kuroo stares at him long and hard. His eyes are unusually vacant, like he’s seeing something else in front of him, and then he blinks and it’s gone. “You’re tipsy, aren’t you?”

“Me?” Kenma chuckles. “No.”

“Yeah you are.”

“Really?” Kenma says incredulously, eyes going comically wide. “How could you tell?”

“You’ve been all touchy-feely since you had that wine. Even for an act, it’s getting a bit much. I think it’s about time we got you home, don’t you think?”

“...Is that what you want?” Kenma fixes Kuroo with a look.

Kuroo laughs and looks out over the balcony. “Yeah, I’m kind of tipsy too and if we don’t go home now, we’re only going to end up drinking even more and then neither of us are going home tonight and I don’t wanna ruin Akaashi’s clean couch or his fancy bathroom or throw up in one of his nice house plants. Nor do I want to wake up to the sounds of them having sex in the middle of the night just one room away.”

Kenma maintains his stare for a moment longer before he sighs and looks away. “Okay.”

“Great. And just in time. We won’t miss the last train.”

Bokuto insists on one last game of Smash with all four of them before they leave and one game of Smash soon turns into two, then three, then a couple more. They play six rounds in total before Kenma feels his social battery hit a critical low and he makes Kuroo explain that they need to go. 

“It was nice having you two over,” Akaashi says as he’s showing them out. He catches Kenma’s gaze and smiles and it’s the most reassuring thing Kenma’s ever seen next to his own mother’s smile. “Feel free to drop by anytime you want to.”

“Thanks for having us,” Kuroo says with a lazy smile as Akaashi gives one last parting wave and closes the door behind him. 

They don’t realize that it’s started to rain outside until they reach the lobby and walk out of the automatic glass doors. 

“Ah shit, don’t have an umbrella.” Kuroo curses. 

Kenma shrugs and sits down on the stone steps. “It’s okay. We can wait it out.”

Kuroo blinks down at him. “That okay with you?’

Kenma nods. “I just want to...stay, for a little while more. It’s weird, I know. I couldn’t wait to leave earlier but now I kind of don’t want to go home yet.”

Kuroo chuckles as he sits down on the step beside him. “Me neither.”

They sit in silence and watch the rain fall, watch the water drip down from the awning, the perfect circles each drop makes on the puddles as they hit the surface. There’s nothing but the sound of the rain pounding on the concrete and for a moment, it feels like they’re two strangers stranded in a storm whose only connection to each other is being at the same place at the same time. 

Kenma wonders about how different things would be if that were true. He wonders if pretending that something that never occurred did happen would be easier than pretending that something that did happen never did; if it would be easier if he and Kuroo were strangers to each other and not childhood friends with a lifetime’s worth of memories and baggage.

“I know that face.”

Kenma side-eyes Kuroo. “What face?”

“You’re overthinking things again.”

“Am I?”

“Yeah. And once you start, it becomes harder to make you see what’s right in front of you.”

Kenma hums as his eyes look upwards towards the dark sky. “Do you think we were...right?” 

Kuroo raises an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Kenma leans back against the step behind him with a sigh. “It’s just something that Akaashi said. When he sees us together, it feels right to him. Did…Did it ever feel right to you?”

Kuroo waits for Kenma to finish but when it becomes clear that Kenma isn’t going to finish that question, he breathes in deeply and leans against the step behind him. “Well, I don’t know what counts as ‘right’ to you, but to me...yeah, it was.”

“What makes you say that?”

Kuroo gives a small nervous laugh. “That’s just the way I felt. I can’t give a better explanation than that.”

Kenma nods silently and Kuroo prods him on the arm. “What?”

“Something’s still bothering you.”

Kenma gives him a look. “Forget it.”

“You can’t just ask me whether or not our relationship felt right and then just brush it off like that.” Kuroo pauses. “Did it feel right to you?”

Kenma can’t even begin to answer that question. He closes his eyes and sighs. “You’re asking me, the one who broke up with you in the first place, if it ever felt right to me?”

Kuroo’s expression turns more serious. “Yeah. I guess I am.”

Kenma shoots him a look. “You’re the worst, you know that?”

Kuroo scoffs. “Is that your answer?”

“No.” 

Kenma closes his eyes and sighs. Well, I guess we’re doing this. “Do you think, maybe, we might have rushed it a bit? Like, maybe we should have waited a bit longer till we were older and more prepared. Maybe till we were the best versions of ourselves. Then, maybe...we could have worked it out?”

Kuroo is quiet for a long time beside him. Kenma doesn’t know if he can even look at him right now.

“Right before we went to nationals,” Kuroo says, tone more solemn and serious. “I kept thinking to myself 一 dude, your whole high school life is over. That’s one stage of your life just over and done with in the blink of an eye and you’re never going to get it back. Everything that I had done till then, and everything that I hadn’t done too, it’s all in the past now and I’m going to have to accept that. One day, I’m standing on the court with my high school teammates and the next, I’m getting ready for my college entrance exams and just like that, my whole life’s going to be over before I know it. So then I said to myself, ‘what are you waiting for?’”

The silence that follows feels almost tangible, as if the air were being pulled taut around them. Kenma is almost afraid to breath.

“My point is,” Kuroo continues, “we did what we thought was right in the moment. Whether or not we were the best versions of ourselves then and whether or not that really led to...what happened. We just did what felt right. That’s it.”

Kenma hums. He’s unsure what to even say to that. The rain grows stronger and Kenma can feel a faint spray begin to hit his face. 

“Do you think that we’re different people than we were before?” Kuroo asks and Kenma finally looks up at him. 

“I don’t know,” Kenma says. “In some ways, I feel like we aren’t that different from before. But some things have still definitely changed. I guess what I’m trying to say and what I’ve been wondering all this time...if we had met as the people that we are now, not as the people that we were, maybe...maybe things would have been different?”

“Kenma,” Kuroo says grimly. “I didn’t know you could get so introspective and philosophical.”

Kenma smacks him lightly on the arm and Kuroo laughs. “I’m joking, I’m joking.”

“And here I was trying to be serious.”

“So what you’re saying is, what if things had gone differently?” 

Kenma quirks an eyebrow up at Kuroo. “What?”

“That is the point you’re making, right?” 

Kenma shrugs. “Is it?”

Kuroo chuckles. “That’s kind of stupid, don’t you think?”

Kenma scowls. “I一”

“‘If only things had been different. If only circumstances weren’t the way they were.’ Everyone thinks that way. At least, anyone with any sort of regret. They always go on and on about how they wish things had been different.”

“Don’t you?” Kenma quips and Kuroo falls silent. 

“Well, yeah,” Kuroo replies. “That’s kind of the point. Everyone wishes things had been different. But they don’t seem to realize that they’re the only ones who can make any sort of difference in the first place.”

Kenma frowns and opens his mouth but Kuroo cuts in, “There’s nothing we can do to change the past. But we can still change the future.”

There’s a pause. “Pfft.” Kenma buries his face in his arms as he tries to stifle his laughter. “Where’d you get that line from?” he says through his giggles. 

“I was trying to be all wise and stuff,” Kuroo says as a blush starts to creep into his face. “Excuse me for being corny as hell when you were over here talking about what ifs and hypotheticals.”

Kenma wipes the tears from his eyes and faces Kuroo, still grinning. “Sorry, sorry. Yeah. I suppose you’re right.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows. “Are you still drunk?” 

Kenma shrugs. “Maybe.”

Kuroo leans forward and Kenma stays stock still. He makes no move to pull away as he stares blankly back at Kuroo, waiting to see what happens. Kuroo pauses, surprised that Kenma isn’t reacting, but he doesn’t stop inching towards him, getting closer and closer till Kenma can see every individual eyelash and smell the faint scent of wine on his breath. Kenma’s eyes flick downward to his parted lips and Kuroo licks them perhaps unconsciously.

Kenma looks back up at his eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, and he makes his own silent little gamble. He closes his eyes. He feels Kuroo’s fingertips brush over his own and he hears the rustling of Kuroo’s clothes. He can feel his face drawing closer, feel the smallest nudge of Kuroo’s nose against his, then there’s a ding! as the automatic glass doors of the building slide open and an all too familiar voice calls out to them from far away, “Um, guys?”

Kuroo has pulled away by the time Kenma opens his eyes. He turns and sees Bokuto approaching them, smiling sheepishly with two umbrellas in hand and his face a little red. “Hey.” He raises a hand in greeting as he approaches. “I was, uhh...Keiji had a feeling that you guys were still stuck here because of the rain so he made me come down to lend you guys our umbrellas.”

Bokuto holds out the umbrellas handle-first towards them and Kuroo grins as he gets up, no apparent shyness or embarrassment. “Thanks, Bokuto. We really appreciate this.”

“Also the staff told me to tell you that non-residents aren’t allowed to loiter outside,” Bokuto says. “And, uhm. Sorry if I, uhh, interrupted something.” He glances apologetically between them.

Kenma waves his hand. “You weren’t interrupting anything, don’t worry.”

Bokuto blinks. “Oh. Well. Stay safe, you guys.”

“Yeah, thanks man,” Kuroo says and they both watch as Bokuto retreats back into the building. Kuroo turns to look down at him after a while and Kenma looks away.

Kuroo clears his throat. “We should probably get going.”

“Yeah.” Kenma stands and grabs one of the umbrellas from Kuroo. “We should.”

They walk to the train station in silence, their umbrellas bumping against each other every once in a while, until they have to part ways to get on different trains.

“Hey,” Kuroo says and Kenma meets his gaze for the first time since Bokuto interrupted them. “I’m going to be a bit busy in the next few days so the next time I’ll see you, it’ll be when we leave for Sendai.”

“Oh.” Kenma nods his head and looks down at his shoes. “Okay.”

“I’ll see you then?”

“Yeah. See you then.”

“Hey.”

Kenma looks up at him once more and Kuroo offers a tentative smile. “Good work back there. I really think we’ve convinced them.”

Kenma manages a half-hearted smile even as his stomach roils with that same sick feeling that he’s been trying to ignore and suppress the entire time. “Yeah. All part of the act, you know?”

Kuroo opens his mouth to say something else then seems to think better of it. “It’ll be okay,” he says instead.

Kenma nods. “Thanks.”

Kuroo turns and begins walking in the opposite direction, heading towards his train. Kenma turns and starts walking. He takes four steps forward before he pauses and looks over his shoulder at the retreating figure of Kuroo who remains adamantly facing forward. Kenma sighs and keeps walking. Kenma’s gone by the time Kuroo stops in his own tracks and turns around to look back and Kenma doesn’t see the conflicted look that passes quickly over Kuroo’s features before he turns and keeps walking.

****

And then, after weeks and months of just going through the motions, Kenma gets up to take a break from work one night, stretches in the darkness of his office, and he wonders if Kuroo is up.

It hits him like a gradual wave, as he makes his way out of the office, blinks at the too bright lights of his living room and sits down at his kotatsu with his phone. He brings up his and Kuroo’s last conversation, sent around a week ago, and his finger hovers over the text box, unsure what exactly it is he wants to tell him. 

He starts with a simple ‘hey’ and watches as Kuroo sees it a minute later.

hey.

what’s up?

Kenma draws in a breath. 

are you busy?

?

not in particular, no

why?

Kenma pauses and he spends a full minute staring absentmindedly at whatever game show is playing on the TV before he types out his reply.

nothing i just want to see you

There’s a long pause between Kenma’s last message and Kuroo’s reply and Kenma realizes it then that he’s telling the truth. He wants to see Kuroo. He misses him. For the first time in a long time, he really misses him and he wants more than anything to see him and be with him right now.

well i’m free this weekend.

i kinda want to see you too.

it’s been a while.

yeah it has.

i really miss you.

not joking.

whoa when did you get so sappy?

well for what it’s worth

i missed you too.

;))))

f riday night?

the usual?

sure.

nothing better than takeout and a movie.

this is gonna be great.

Kenma smiles to himself and he feels hopeful for the first time in a long while. He doesn’t realize till just now how long it’s been since he last felt this way, how long since learning not to expect anything anymore has turned him numb to the feeling of joy and excitement that rises in him now when he thinks about seeing Kuroo again.

The scheduled day creeps closer and closer and Kenma finds his thoughts occupied with nothing else but their coming date. It’s a welcome distraction for once, something to look forward to and help him get his work done faster, and Kenma is already making preparations in his head.

They could order from that one burger place that Kuroo likes and maybe he can even stand to sit through that cheesy romcom that Kuroo’s begged him to watch so many times before. He could convince Kuroo to stay the night and then they could spend the weekend just lazing around, catching up, maybe even just talking. Kenma never realized how much he misses just talking to Kuroo like they always did. It feels like they never talk about anything other than work lately all the time. 

Kenma no longer remembers the last time he was this excited to see Kuroo instead of feeling mildly inconvenienced or just indifferent above all other feelings. The night before this date feels like the night before their first, when Kenma stayed up all night pacing his room with his phone in his hand, mind reeling at the fact that he had actually asked Kuroo on an actual date right after Kuroo confessed to him, stopping in front of his window every now and again to peek out between his curtains towards the house next door to see the lights still on in Kuroo’s room and where he hopes Kuroo is thinking about tomorrow just as intensely as he is.

In the days preceding their little date, Kuroo can’t seem to shut up about it, leaving him messages while he’s working to let him know how excited he is or just to let him know that he’s thinking about him, and Kenma takes that as a sign that yes, Kuroo is looking forward to it as much as he is. 

Which is good.

Validating.

Makes him feel like this might actually work out.

For the first time in months, Kenma finds himself rushing around his house, trying to get it as clean and in order as he can to prepare for Kuroo’s visit. He replaces the unwashed duvet over the kotatsu, does something about the dirty dishes he’s let pile up in the sink, sweeps and mops the floor as best as he can, and even goes through his entire home theatre with a feather duster. By the time dusk arrives and Kenma’s called the burger place ahead of time, the entirety of his house seems to shine with an almost heavenly light, as if angels had descended from the sky and blessed the place. Kenma couldn’t have been any prouder of himself.

As he sits at his kotatsu and waits for Kuroo and the food to arrive, he wonders if he should have cooked the meal himself, like that time he cooked mackerel for Kuroo. Maybe just a side dish this time to go with the burgers, like fries or a dessert to eat afterwards, like cookies or even cupcakes. He curses himself for not thinking about it sooner. As sickeningly sweet and corny as it is to give Kuroo homemade cookies, Kenma knows that Kuroo is just corny enough to not only appreciate the gesture but even find it sexy. So Kenma makes a note to look up some easy baked recipes for next time and settles into his home theatre for the night.

The burgers arrive and Kenma sticks them in the unplugged microwave to keep warm and safe from ants while he waits for Kuroo in the home theatre. He puts on a romcom that he and Kuroo have watched before to get himself in the mood and after letting the thought stew in his head for some time, Kenma swallows down his embarrassment and pulls his phone out to take a picture.

He’s in his usual home get-up of a hoodie and worn sweatpants, with socks pulled right over the hems of his pants. Not exactly attractive, even to Kuroo. But Kenma isn’t sure if he wants to slip into something a bit more appealing right now so he settles for a decent above the shoulder selfie with a clear shot of the TV in the background. Once he’s satisfied with the way it looks, Kenma sends the picture to Kuroo with the caption ‘just waiting for you.’ Then he settles into his plush couch and whiles away the time watching the romcom as he waits for Kuroo.

Kenma’s stomach starts to grumble around 8:04 PM and the movie is more than halfway over. Kenma decides that Kuroo probably won’t mind if he eats dinner before him and brings the burgers out of the microwave. He munches on his burger as he sits through the movie’s final minutes and by the time the credits start to roll, Kenma wonders what’s keeping Kuroo. He had promised to be here by seven, which was his usual time on their Friday night dates, but it’s already more than an hour past that.

Kenma considers sending him a message but he hasn’t even seen the picture Kenma sent. Kenma frowns as a familiar feeling of heaviness and dread starts to rise up within him but he swallows down as much of it as he can and decides to give Kuroo the benefit of the doubt, just this once. He could still be waiting for the train, like that one time, or his phone could be dead. There has to be a valid explanation for this. He can’t keep jumping to the most drastic conclusions.

So Kenma waits. He puts on another movie, not really bothering to look at what it is as long as it can fill the time and the silence, and leans back against his couch with a drink. He ends up falling asleep twenty minutes into the movie, which turns out to be some old period drama that needs far too many historical references to be truly understood, and doesn’t wake up until the credits have started and it’s just a minute past ten.

Kuroo still hasn’t seen his messages.

Something about this feels awfully familiar to Kenma, as is the feeling that’s started to fester in his gut, but he resolves not to let his thoughts run ahead of him. Kuroo said he’d be here, so he will be. Right? Kenma just has to be a bit more patient, a bit more understanding, a bit more forgiving. Just go through the motions a little bit longer.

So Kenma sits back and waits a little more. By this time, he’s gotten pretty sick of the movies and he boots up his Switch and plays mindlessly through Breath of the Wild for another hour and a half before he gets sick and tired of both the game and waiting up for Kuroo.

He grabs his phone and is just about to call Kuroo up when Kuroo beats him to it. Seeing Kuroo’s name pop up on his screen, the anger that had built up inside Kenma suddenly turns to relief and he thinks, finally. He’s going to say that he’s on his way, or that he’s already outside. Kenma answers it without hesitation and the first thing he hears is the heaviest sigh he’s ever heard Kuroo give.

“Kenma.” His voice is breathless. “God, finally.”

“Kuro,” Kenma says. “Where一”

“Look, I一 I’m really sorry.”

Kenma’s blood nearly chills in his veins. “What?”

Kuroo sighs. “I一 I can’t make it after all.”

Kenma is completely still. His hand clenches around his phone and he tries to keep his voice at a reasonable level as he says, “Why not?”

“I一” Kuroo begins then sighs again. “Listen, something came up. Something I couldn’t just get out of. I swear to God I didn’t plan this and I-I tried to get out of it, I really did. I told them I was running late for something but they said that I couldn’t leave and then they started questioning if I was even serious about this job and there was no way to tell them no without it making me look bad after that. You understand, right?”

Kenma is silent. 

There’s another sigh from Kuroo. “Kenma, please. I know how much you were looking forward to this. I was too. But sometimes these things just happen. I-It’s all out of my control.”

Kenma nods. “You sound tired.”

Kuroo laughs, a lame and brittle attempt at humor. “Yeah, I am.”

Kenma chuckles but it holds no mirth or fondness. “Yeah, must be pretty tiring, having a full-time job while juggling a relationship like this.”

Kuroo is quiet. “Kenma, what一”

“Let me say something now,” Kenma cuts in and Kuroo falls silent. “Because I’m tired too.” And then suddenly, like the last drop of water has been spilled on an already overflowing cup, a tirade of words rushes out of Kenma, bitter and angry. “I’m tired of all this waiting. I’m tired of just being pushed aside. I’m tired of expecting something that never seems to come. I’m tired of the silence, of not knowing till it’s already too late, of just going through the motions as if that makes things better. I’m tired of it, Kuro.”

He waits for Kuroo to say something but after five seconds of silence pass, Kenma continues. “Let’s both be honest. This relationship is turning out to be more stressful than it is relieving. I just...you have your job and I have mine and we’re just, in the way of each other at this point. We’re already tired enough as it is but let’s admit it. Keeping this, whatever it is, up? It’s just even more exhausting for the both of us. And I just keep thinking, if all we ever do is get in each other’s way and jeopardize what we work hard for, do we...do I even want this anymore?”

“So what are you saying?” comes Kuroo’s voice, hoarser this time. “What do you suggest we do about it?”

The answer is clear to Kenma as soon as Kuroo asks. It lights up in the darkness of his head like blinking neon letters pointing the way forward, the only way out of this mess that he can see. He feels it on the tip of his tongue, ready to roll out and be heard, but for one second, one agonizingly slow and quiet second where nothing but the faint crackling on the other end of the line can be heard, Kenma purses his lips and thinks about it.

One sentence and everything is going to change. One sentence and the whole world will be rearranged entirely into something that he’ll be unwholly unfamiliar with. One sentence and nothing will ever be the same again.

Kenma closes his eyes and tries to picture it. All of the possibilities, all of the outcomes, all the future days and nights that stretch on endlessly before him. All of it 一 without that one thing.

Kenma opens his eyes and says into the phone coldly, succinctly, tiredly, “Maybe we should break up.”

There’s a long silence filled with nothing but his own heart beating steadily in his ear and the meaningless white noise and clutter on the other line. Not even the sound of either of their breathing. Just the noise of the night and the ticking of Kenma’s wall clock marching ever forward into the future.

Then there’s a laugh. It’s soft, almost imperceptible. It’s neither fond nor teasing, neither amused nor affectionate. But it’s heavy. It’s tired. It’s chilly and matter-of-fact and sobering and altogether final. 

“Yeah,” Kuroo says. “Maybe we should.”

A few seconds pass before Kuroo hangs up and Kenma stands alone in his home theatre, staring at the paused game on his TV screen as he listens to the aggravating disconnect tone. He doesn’t know how long he stands there before he puts his phone down, picks up his controller again and continues the game, numbing his mind as he tries not to think about what the hell he’s just done.

But it comes back to haunt him when he eventually realizes that he can’t concentrate, when exhaustion and frustration make him quit the game and retreat to his room, forgetting about the extra burger in his microwave. He lies in bed for a long time and stares up at the ceiling, unable to feel anything but an overwhelming fatigue that not even sleep can seem to cure.

He tosses and turns for the entire night, unaware of just how many hours pass before he sees the sunlight begin to creep in from beyond his curtained windows, interrupting the noise in his head and forcing him to get up when his alarm starts ringing. Despite his lack of sleep, he’s wide awake and he stands and walks over to the window, pulling back the curtains to face the gray early morning outside. 

Everything is about to change.

Chapter Text

They leave for Sendai in the early morning. It’s early enough that the sky is still transitioning between the black of night to the pale bluish-gray of dawn and Kenma feels like he’s going to freeze to death if he takes off his jacket. He’s packed lightly, carrying only a knapsack filled with spare clothes, his Switch and his chargers while he carries his suit around in a garment bag.

Kenma hates the way his hair looks in the morning because it couldn’t be any more obvious that he just quite literally rolled out of bed. But he tames it as best as he can before he puts on his shoes and locks his front door, bidding his house goodbye for the weekend.

Kuroo, as usual, looks endearingly rumpled even for the early hour. Sure, his bedhead looks worse than when he actually has time to work on it but that impossibly rooster-like head of his has always been one of the most attractive parts of him.

“Hey.” Kenma yawns as he comes up behind him. 

Kuroo turns to him with a cup of instant coffee in his hand and smiles. “Morning. You look like you just rolled out of bed.”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “Maybe because I just did?”

Kuroo looks him over. He has his own backpack, looking a little lighter than Kenma’s, and he holds his garment bag over his shoulder. “You got everything? Didn’t forget your ticket? The invitation? Your dress shoes? Socks perhaps.”

Kenma resists the urge to roll his eyes again. “Yeah yeah, I double-checked everything. Now can we please get on so I can pass out until we get to Sendai?”

Kuroo chuckles and he leads the way to where the shinkansen waits for them. “Sure but you gotta at least get some breakfast in you.”

They purchase a pair of train station bento boxes before they board their mostly empty train and settle into their seats. Kenma is out cold the moment he sinks into his plush chair and he doesn’t wake up till what he presumes is about an hour and a half later, already expecting a reprimand from Kuroo for not eating his bento box first.

By now, the sun has fully risen and the world looks all too bright and optimistic. The view outside is no longer that of the city, with its familiar skyscrapers, telephone poles and giant billboards, but of small squat houses, rice fields and distant mountains. Kenma yawns and tries to stretch his arms above his head but stops as he realizes one vital piece of information.

Kuroo’s head is leaning against his shoulder. 

Despite how heavy it feels, Kenma had barely even noticed it. But after his sleepiness subsides, it’s kind of hard to miss the distinct weight on his shoulder and the puddle of drool dripping down from the corner of Kuroo’s slightly open mouth and onto his jacket.

Kenma makes a face but doesn’t move to push him off. He stays completely still and watches the way Kuroo’s lashes turn golden brown in the sunlight. Kuroo snorts and murmurs something in his sleep and Kenma stifles a laugh. Despite the evident stiffness in his neck, the creeping numbness in his shoulder and the underlying feeling of disgust at the saliva pooling on his sleeve, Kenma doesn’t wake Kuroo or try to move him. Kenma lets Kuroo stay that way, if for just a little while, as he watches the scenery go by. 

Then after some time, Kuroo stirs. Kenma stiffens and in a panic, shuts his eyes and pretends he’s still asleep. He feels Kuroo shift beside him and slowly lift his head and as soon as it’s no longer on his shoulder, Kenma misses its weight. Kuroo gives an awkward cough and Kenma can hear him shuffle around in his seat, probably moving to a new position away from Kenma. After a while, he feels Kuroo wipe off the drool on his sleeve with what he presumes to be a piece of tissue paper before finally moving away.

Kenma waits. Kuroo doesn’t move. Kenma waits a bit longer. There’s another small cough from Kuroo and nothing more. Finally, Kenma opens his eyes to find Kuroo asleep, or at least trying to sleep, leaning away from him with his arms crossed over his chest.

Kenma decides to take matters into his own hands. 

He closes his eyes again and waits for a couple seconds before he starts to slowly lean towards Kuroo, moving closer inch by inch, until his head finally alights on Kuroo’s shoulder.

He feels Kuroo freeze and for a moment he’s afraid that he’s stopped breathing. Then, eventually, Kenma feels Kuroo relax a little. His shoulder moves up and down as he lets out a long breath and Kenma allows himself to relax as well, maybe even smirk a little in his mind.

He falls asleep like this, with his head on Kuroo’s shoulder, lulled by the steady movement of the train underneath his feet and the quiet constant sound of Kuroo’s breathing. He’s not sure how much time has passed before he’s shaken awake what feels like only moments after. He blinks up at Kuroo’s face as he realizes that he’s still leaning against his shoulder.

“Kenma,” Kuroo says softly. “Come on, wake up. We’re here.”

Kenma groans as he lifts his head, neck a bit stiff from the uncomfortable position. “Where?”

Kuroo smiles, small and fond. “In Sendai, dummy. Come on.”

A bright autumn morning greets them when they leave the station, with yellow-red leaves and crisp cool air. Kenma glares against the sunlight reflected off the tall glass buildings and the distant noise of the traffic on the highway as they hail a cab and give their driver directions to the hotel.

The hotel turns out to be a tall but modest building that looks bigger on the inside than it appears to be on the outside. Kenma expects to see about a million familiar faces as soon as they’re past the threshold. It’s the day right before the wedding. Surely everyone else from out of town would be arriving with them. But Kenma breathes a sigh of relief when he sees no one that he knows hanging around in the lobby or arriving from the train station or airport.

Still, he can’t help but be wary as he waits while Kuroo checks them in. His eyes wander to the printed wedding plaque on an easel beside the elevator, declaring the time, date and venue of Kageyama and Hinata’s reception except it doesn’t look at all like what a wedding plaque should look like. The background is black with an orange border, the words are done in big block letters, and the photo of Kageyama and Hinata facing each other on opposite sides of a net makes it look like an advertisement for a volleyball match rather than their reception.

“You know, I’m not sure whether they intended for it to look that way or not but either way, it’s definitely on brand.” Kuroo stops in front of him, their card key in hand. “Shall we go?”

“Ugh, finally.” Kenma stands, ready to collapse into a proper bed this time, and begins making his way to the elevator before he notices Kuroo lagging behind him and stops.

“What’re you dragging your feet for?”

Kuroo sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. “Just, uh, one small thing before we get up there.”

Kenma narrows his eyes at him. “What?”

“It’s just,” Kuroo says, “us being a couple and all, they, uh, gave us a couples room.”

Kenma stares blankly back at him.

Kuroo clears his throat. “Meaning. There’s only one bed. And one bathroom. And, uh, one room in general.”

Kenma blinks. “Oh. Okay.”

The elevator doors open with a ding! and without another word, Kenma marches in. Kuroo raises his brows and follows him inside. “Wait so, you’re not bothered by that?”

Kenma shrugs. “Why should I be?”

Kuroo presses the floor button before turning back to look at Kenma. “I just kind of figured that you’d be a bit uncomfortable with that arrangement.”

“And what would you do if I was? Ask for a second room and risk blowing our cover?”

“Fair point.”

“But if you’re still uncomfortable, which you obviously are, I can sleep on the floor.”

Kuroo scoffs. “Me? Uncomfortable? No, I’ll be fine.”

Kenma looks at him doubtfully. “Are you sure? ‘Cause for someone claiming that I’m uncomfortable with sharing a bed, you do seem pretty bothered by it.”

Kuroo scoffs again and this one sounds a lot less natural than the last one. “I’m not bothered. It’s no big deal. It’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “I already know you drool in your sleep, if that’s what you’re worried about. And you snore sometimes.”

“Well you move around too much,” Kuroo counters, “and I can’t count the times I’ve woken up because you punched or kicked me in your sleep.”

“See?” Kenma gestures between them. “Nothing to be uncomfortable about. Besides, a hotel like this? Pretty sure the bed’s going to be huge. I bet we could lie spread-eagled on different sides and not even touch each other.”

The bed, it turns out, isn’t as huge as Kenma had pictured. Definitely not big enough for them to lie spread-eagled on different sides without touching each other. Combined with Kuroo’s freakish height, the chances of them getting accidentally entangled in each other is looking pretty high. 

“Floor’s still free,” Kuroo says.

“Good. You can take it.” Kenma drops his knapsack by the end of the bed and falls onto the fluffy duvet with a sigh. 

“Hey, you called floor first!” Kuroo dumps his own pack by Kenma’s and stands over him with his hands on his hips. “Don’t you think you’ve had enough sleep already? You didn’t even eat your bento.”

Kenma lifts his hand lazily and waves. “I’ll eat it later.”

“It’s nearly lunchtime, Kenma.”

“So I’ll eat it for lunch.”

Kuroo sits on the edge of the bed. “I thought we agreed to go sightseeing today.”

“And we will.” Kenma yawns. “Just give me a couple more minutes.”

Kuroo grabs Kenma’s arms without warning and pulls him up to sit upright. Kenma groans in protest. “Kuroo, stop.”

“No,” Kuroo says as he takes Kenma’s unopened bento box and places it on his lap. “Eat.” He points a finger at him in warning before he sheds his jacket, roots around in his backpack for his toiletries and walks to the bathroom. Kenma sighs, begrudgingly accepts that he is a little hungry and starts to eat. He hears Kuroo turn on the shower and he tries not to let his mind wander to thoughts of whether or not Kuroo is going to change in the bathroom or walk out with nothing but a towel around his waist.

Much to Kenma’s relief (but also to his disappointment), Kuroo emerges from the bathroom already fully dressed in the same clothes he had been wearing although his hair is a lot wetter and flatter than it was before. He walks out onto the balcony with his towel to dry his hair off while Kenma finishes his bento and dumps the remains into a nearby trash bin. When Kuroo returns, his hair is more or less back to normal and Kenma wonders just what exactly he does to make it look so good yet so effortless at the same time. 

Kuroo catches him staring and stops, frowning. “What is it?”

Kenma blinks and quickly looks away. “Uh, nothing. Just...wondering if the bathroom’s all right.”

Kuroo nods as he sits at the edge of the bed, towel still over his head. “Oh yeah, it’s pretty neat. It’s got hot water at least.”

“That’s good.”

“I can wait if you want to go and take a shower too.”

Kenma shakes his head. “Already did.” That’s a lie and he’s not entirely sure why he’s lying in the first place.

Kuroo shrugs. “Suit yourself.” 

They spend about an hour getting settled in, which, in Kuroo’s case, is spending ten minutes just walking around the room and out on the balcony checking the whole place out before flopping down on to the bed and flipping through the channels on the widescreen TV, and in Kenma’s case, is catching up on as much sleep as he can before Kuroo decides to wake him up roughly an hour later later to get lunch and proceed with their plan of going sightseeing. 

“Where do you want to go first?” Kuroo asks as they stand in the hotel lobby. “You ever tried Sendai’s famous gyutan before?”

Kenma makes a face. “I’m not sure if I would enjoy that.”

Kuroo laughs as he hooks an arm casually around Kenma’s shoulders. “Come on, don’t say that before you’ve even tried it.”

They find multiple restaurants that serve gyutan close to the hotel and after consulting reviews on the internet, they settle for the one that most tourists agree makes it look and taste less unappetizing than it initially seems. Kenma actually ends up liking it, at least once he got past the weird texture and the fact that he’s eating cow tongue. He even ends up liking the oxtail soup that it’s served with, though it’s partly because Kuroo doesn’t tell him what kind of soup it is until he’s tried it and decided that it isn’t bad.

After spending most of the latter half of their meal debating where to go next, they decide to take the train to the Aoba Castle ruins. The twenty minute walk uphill from the station to get to the entrance turns into thirty-five minutes when Kenma gets winded not even halfway up and has to stop to catch his breath and take a much-needed drink of water. 

“Want me to carry you the rest of the way?” Kuroo asks in amusement and Kenma glares at him before he gets to his feet and keeps walking, only to have to stop five minutes later before they keep going again and then another ten minutes again after before they finally make it to the top. 

The ruins themselves consist of nothing more than the outer walls of the complex and a singular white guard tower but they spend an hour exploring the whole place. They stop by the museum to look at models of what Aoba Castle would have looked like back in the day, visit the Gokoku shrine on the castle grounds and take a break at the park on top of the plateau where a metal statue of Date Masamune on horseback looks out over the city with pale empty eyes.

Kuroo insists that they take a picture in front of the Date Masamune statue and they end up having to ask a random passerby to take the picture for them. 

“Come on Kenma, smile!” Kuroo says as he grins and holds up a peace sign for the camera. Kenma sighs but begrudgingly tries to at least look like he isn’t constipated. But by the time Kuroo gets his phone back from the stranger and checks the photos, Kenma’s ‘smile’ looks nothing like an actual smile.

Kuroo lets out a raucous hyena laugh and Kenma has to clap a hand over his mouth to get him to shut up before they get a noise complaint.

“This is going on the console,” Kuroo says as he tucks his phone out of Kenma’s reach. 

Kenma glares. “It is not .”

“I’m going to print this out, buy a nice little frame, sneak into your house in the dead of night and put it on your console along with all your other photos. Or you know, send it to your mom so she can do it herself.”

They spend a moment staring out at the view of Sendai from the castle park, leaning against the railing and feeling the light breeze blowing against their faces. Kenma keeps finding his eyes drawn to Kuroo beside him, watching the way he runs his hand through his hair or watching his lips form words without really hearing what he’s saying. Kenma nods in places where he thinks it’s appropriate to nod and looks away and pretends to be staring at the scenery when Kuroo turns to catch his eye and he wonders, as he’s pointedly refusing to glance at Kuroo, if the fiery feeling on his face means that Kuroo’s staring at him too or if the sun is starting to burn his skin. 

He doesn’t understand how he didn’t get caught staring when he knows it must have been painfully obvious, but as they leave the ruins to make the short trek down to the Sendai City Museum, Kenma wonders if maybe Kuroo hadn’t said anything about it on purpose. 

Following Date Masamune’s path through Sendai, they make their way to the Zuihoden Mausoleum. They climb up and down even more stone steps, walk the quiet cedar-lined paths past mossy stone lanterns, and pay their respects at Date Masamune's final resting place. The air smells of incense and petrichor and Kenma stares up at the colorful and intricate carvings on the mausoleum’s walls, from the long-tailed pheasants to the bug-eyed dragons holding up the rafters. 

“You know,” Kuroo says as they stand in front of the mausoleum. It’s so quiet that even Kuroo’s inside voice sounds too loud to Kenma. “Not sure if this is appropriate in a place like this, but if Date Masamune comes back as a zombie, do you think he’d come out with all his armor and weapons?”

Kenma snorts. “Assuming that he’d be sentient enough to put them on first before breaking out of his mausoleum. Also assuming that he’d be able to open his mausoleum himself.”

Kuroo looks deep in thought as he stares at the jet-black doors to the mausoleum with its elaborate gold designs. “I mean, they have to open it every once in a while, don’t they? At least to check if he’s still in there.” Kuroo’s eyes widen and he freezes as he’s struck with an idea. He turns to Kenma with a devious grin. “Wanna see what’ll happen if we knock?”

Kenma can do nothing but make an indignant noise before he elbows Kuroo in the ribs. “Shut up before you get us into trouble.”

Kuroo laughs. “I was joking. Relax.” Then in a more serious tone, “No but seriously though, how are we so sure he’s still in there if nobody checks? It’s like Schrodinger’s cat except it’s a dead body.”

“Pffft.” Kenma hides his smile behind a hand. “You’re going to get us arrested one day.”

Kuroo grins. “Do you think Lev would do it if we asked him to?”

Kenma gives a snort of a laugh, a lot louder this time. He nods, grinning. “He would. I don’t think we’d even need to ask.”

They dissolve into a fit of snickers before they’re very condescendingly reminded to keep their voices down by a passing tour guide. They can’t keep the grins off their faces as they make their way out, following the same path they had taken inside, and Kenma swears he can feel Kuroo’s fingertips brushing ever so slightly over the back of his hand, closer and closer with every step they take.

Their next stop is the shrine of Osaki Hachimangu. They wash their hands and mouths at the water fountain by the entrance, ring the bell outside the shrine, toss their offerings of a five yen coin each into the offering box then clasp their hands together in prayer. 

Kenma isn’t sure what to pray for if he’s being honest. There isn’t much in his life that he particularly needs, at least not something that he couldn’t just get himself or something that only the gods can give. He peeks at Kuroo from the corner of his eye and sees the unusually stern and serious expression on his face, still deeply in prayer. Kenma watches the stillness on Kuroo’s features and the straight line of his back. Only the very tips of his fingers seem to tremble but even then, it’s barely noticeable.

Kenma closes his eyes and supposes that there might actually be something he could pray for after all.

Afterwards, Kuroo insists on getting omamori charms for the both of them from the shrine’s shop. Kenma shoots down Kuroo’s offer of getting matching Love charms immediately and instead suggests that they buy one for each other which seems to placate Kuroo but leaves Kenma with the dilemma of choosing what kind of charm to get Kuroo.

He’s not sure if getting Kuroo a Money one wouldn’t come across as patronizing especially coming from someone like him. Besides, he’s sure Kuroo is sufficiently loaded in that department by now. He could go for a generic Luck charm but it feels a bit disingenuous and last ditch. Finally, he finds a red Success omamori with shiny silver details and hands it to Kuroo. 

“May you reach your goals or whatever,” Kenma says. 

Kuroo smiles as he takes the charm then proceeds to attach it to his phone. “That way, it’ll always be with me,” he says, managing to sound both joking and sincere at the same time.

“Here.” Kuroo presents Kenma with an orange Happiness charm with gold details. 

“Happiness?” Kenma can’t help but ask as he takes the charm from him, turning it over in his hands.

Kuroo shrugs. “Wouldn’t you want someone you care about to find happiness?”

Someone you care about . Kenma pauses, purses his lips then with a sigh attaches the charm to his own phone. “There.” He shows it to Kuroo. “Now we match. Sort of.”

Kuroo blinks and the softest, most impossibly sappy smile spreads across his face. “Aww Kenma, you do love me.”

Kenma scoffs and turns away, already marching out of the shrine as Kuroo runs after him, unaware of the red on both of their cheeks. 

Their last stop for the day is the Rinnoji Temple. They spend the whole time wandering the grounds, strolling through the beautiful gardens and admiring the ornate art and decorations of the temple and its neighbouring pagoda. 

Kenma has never been one for the outdoors. There are too many bugs that bite his skin, plants and the like that leave itches on his legs and just a general feeling of unease and danger that seem to follow him wherever he goes. But even he has to admit that there’s a kind of strange enchantment to this place. It’s soothing and peaceful, owing perhaps to the lack of other tourists, but the air here just feels different to Kenma. There are narrow stone paths that lead through the crystal clear ponds teeming with koi fish and there’s no lack of greenery with all its well-kept trees, bushes and flowers, all in the beautiful red and golden foliage of autumn. 

They sit at a stone bench overlooking the pond just as a strong breeze blows through, rusting the leaves of every tree in the vicinity. Kenma closes his eyes and feels it against his face, loses himself in the sound of the birds and the rustling of leaves, before he opens it and catches Kuroo outright gawking at him.

“What?” he asks and Kuroo blinks and quickly looks away. “N-Nothing.”

“This place is nice, isn’t it?” Kenma asks in an attempt to lighten the suddenly tense mood. “It must be a sight in the spring, with all the cherry blossoms and the water lilies.”

Kuroo chuckles. “Yeah. Must be.”

They watch the koi fish swim circles around each other in the water and Kenma’s eyes are drawn to the image of the pagoda and the sky reflected so clearly on the pond’s surface, so close he feels like he could touch it.

“How have you been liking Sendai so far?” Kuroo asks.

Knema hums. “It’s nice. We got to do a lot, now that I think about it.”

“Haven’t you been here before? With Hinata?”

“Yeah but only for a short while. We spent the entire day at Sendai Port.”

They fall into silence once again but it isn’t tense or uncomfortable. They stare out at the scenery before them and bask in the tranquility of the place. Kenma thinks vaguely that they really do seem like old men now but he finds that he doesn’t mind. 

After a while, Kuroo suggests taking one last stroll through the gardens and Kenma agrees. He gets up and is just about to start walking when Kuroo suddenly grabs his hand and intertwines their fingers. Kenma jumps, startled partly by how cold Kuroo’s hand is and partly because of the action itself. He spins around to give Kuroo a wide-eyed look but finds Kuroo staring straight ahead, a congenial smile on his face.

Kenma follows his gaze and freezes in place when he sees two people staring back at them. Two very familiar people, although Kenma can’t quite place where he’s seen them before. The taller one, with the brown hair and the exceedingly handsome features, looks the most familiar to him. Kenma can feel his name on his tongue. The slightly shorter one with the spiky dark hair looks less familiar but somehow, Kenma gets the feeling that if he wasn’t with the taller one, he wouldn’t have recognized him at all. 

Kuroo, however, seems to recognize them immediately. He grins and raises his hand in greeting as he approaches, dragging Kenma along behind him.

“Well, well,” Kuroo says. “I was beginning to wonder when we’d run into someone we know.”

“Wait, you know them?” Kenma asks but before he can get an answer, Kuroo is already standing in front of the two.

“Kuro一”

“Well well well, if it isn’t the Oikawa Tooru of the Argentinian League himself.”

Wait. Oikawa Tooru?

Kenma stops and stares wide-eyed as the taller of the two raises his eyebrows. The moment Kenma sees his face, there’s no mistaking it. The perfectly kept hair, the exceedingly handsome features, the innocently curious smile as if he’s pleasantly surprised that someone had actually recognized him. 

Kenma’s only ever seen him on TV before but even then, there was no mistaking the presence that Oikawa Tooru had both on and off the court. Seeing him in the flesh right in front of him, it’s nearly overwhelming. His presence is unmistakable, powerful even. There is no room for doubt, the moment one looks at him, just how great of a star he is and he knows it. Kenma’s brain blanks out and he nearly forgets that he’s (probably) just as well-known as Oikawa is.

Oikawa frowns as his eyes look Kuroo up and down. “Do I know you?”

His statement is immediately followed by a yelp as his spiky-haired companion pinches him on the arm. “Don’t be rude!” the man snaps before he turns to address Kuroo. “Sorry about him. Um, Kuroo-san, right? From the JVA?”

Kuroo nods. “Yep. And you’re Iwaizumi, athletic trainer to the national men’s volleyball team.”

Ah, right. Kenma remembers now. Iwaizumi was in Seijoh with Oikawa. He’s seen some of their matches before and he remembers Shouyo mentioning their athletic trainer a few times. Iwaizumi seems a lot less intimidating than Oikawa, probably because he doesn’t seem as pompous or isn’t as well-known, but there’s still a presence to him nonetheless. It’s not as powerful or nearly as haughty’s as Oikawa’s. It’s reassuring and calming in a way, strong and firm and still just as evident. Kenma is, quite frankly, very intimidated right now.

Iwaizumi smiles as he holds his hand out to Kuroo to shake. “Fancy running into you in Sendai. I assume you’re here for the reception?” His eyes fall on Kenma’s hunched up figure beside Kuroo and he offers his hand to him afterwards. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. I’m Iwaizumi Hajime.”

“Uhh.” Kenma takes his hand a bit hesitantly and gives it one firm shake. “Kozume Kenma.”

Oikawa’s eyes widen. “Kozume, the setter from Nekoma?”

Kenma is a bit taken aback that Oikawa himself would recognize him from then. “Um, yes.”

“That’s right.” Kuroo slings an arm around Kenma’s shoulders and grins proudly. “This guy right here was the brain of Nekoma back in our day.”

Kenma’s cheeks flush as he tries to push Kuroo’s arm off. “Kuro, stop.”

Oikawa hums. His gaze is curious and calculating and Kenma feels as if he’s back on the court, being assessed by an opponent. He sees Oikawa give him the same up and down look he gave Kuroo before his eyes fall on their intertwined hands and his eyebrows nearly disappear into his fringe. Kenma wants to sink into the ground under his feet.

Iwaizumi clears his throat pointedly as he addresses the both of them. “Sorry we didn’t recognize you immediately. We knew you looked familiar but we just couldn’t place一”

“I saw your match against Karasuno in the Interhigh,” Oikawa cuts in. “It’s a shame we never got to play each other in high school. It would have made for a pretty exciting match, don’t you agree?”

There’s a second of stunned silence before Kuroo grins. “Oya? The great Oikawa Tooru himself wants to face off against us? Are you sure about that?”

Oikawa scoffs. “You’d be formidable opponents but you’re not unstoppable. I’ve seen how Yaku from the national team plays. He’s from Nekoma too, isn’t he? Excellent libero but still no match for my serves, if I do say so myself.”

Kenma hums. “Ehhh. But in the last set in the Olympics, didn’t he break your service ace streak twice?”

The corners of Oikawa’s smile twitches. “Yes, unfortunately.”

Kuroo bursts out laughing and slaps Kenma in the back, nearly making Kenma topple forward. “That’s our Yakkun! Right, Iwaizumi-san?”

Iwaizumi chuckles. “Well he is one if not the best libero in the nation, if I do say so myself. I knew Oikawa’s serves were going to be tough to receive so I had him focus specifically on that.”

Oikawa huffs. “This betrayal will not be forgotten, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi clears his throat. “So anyways, Kuroo-san, Kozume-san. What brings you guys here?”

Kuroo shrugs. He squeezes Kenma’s hand and Kenma would have flinched if Oikawa’s gaze isn’t still keenly on him. “We were just sightseeing,” Kuroo answers. “We don’t often get the opportunity to travel here after all.”

Iwaizumi nods. “Where have you guys been so far?”

“Oh Zuihoden, Hachimangu, Aoba Castle. Your usual touristy places.”

“Oh too bad we didn’t get to meet each other earlier. We would have gladly shown you around the city.”

“Well if you guys are still offering for next time, maybe you could show us some of the less well-known attractions?”

At this point, Kenma is so close to zoning out of the conversation as it looks to be veering into pointless small talk. But just as Iwaizumi is describing a good tourist spot to Kuroo, Oikawa chimes in, “Sorry to interrupt but I just needed to ask. Are you two together?”

Iwaizumi elbows Oikawa sharply and sends him a look. “Oi, don’t be rude!” he hisses under his breath but Oikawa only stares at Kuroo and Kenma, waiting for an answer.

Without missing a beat, Kuroo smiles and squeezes Kenma’s hand. “Yes, we’re together.”

Iwaizumi frowns, suddenly looking interested. “Are you? I could have sworn someone from the JVA said that you weren’t dating anyone.”

Kuroo laughs and waves his hand dismissively. “Oh you know, gotta separate our personal lives from our professional, right? Wouldn’t want my co-workers butting in on business that isn’t theirs.”

“How long have you guys been together?” Oikawa asks and Kenma can’t believe that this is where they’re getting quizzed about their relationship. From Oikawa Tooru and his (maybe?) boyfriend Iwaizumi Hajime in the middle of the Rinnoji gardens.

“Oh, well.” Kuroo shrugs. “Define ‘together.’ ‘Cause we’ve known each other since childhood, actually. Isn’t that right, Kenma?” Kuroo smiles down at Kenma and Kenma makes a face but nods begrudgingly. 

Oikawa raises his eyebrows. “Kozume-san doesn’t seem too happy about that.”

Kuroo laughs. “He’s always been like this. Hates sappy stuff and PDA. Here, look.” Kuroo leans in to plant a kiss on Kenma’s forehead and Kenma quickly ducks out of the way, a disgusted look on his face.

“Kuro, stop,” Kenma chastises, feeling his face heat up as both Oikawa and Iwaizumi continue looking at them.

To his surprise, Oikawa actually laughs. “Reminds me of Iwa-chan. So stoic and serious on the outside but with a surprisingly fluffy interior.”

Iwaizumi makes an indignant noise and glares at Oikawa. “You say one more word,” he says in a dangerously low voice, the friendly demeanour that he had shown to them till just then dissolving almost immediately. But Oikawa only laughs and pats Iwaizumi on the shoulder. “I was only joking, Iwa-chan! Anyways, you two said you were childhood friends? What a coincidence, so are we!”

Kuroo chuckles. “Well now, small world, ain’t it?”

At that moment, a passing groundskeeper reminds them that the temple will be closing soon and they all agree to leave together. Oikawa and Iwaizumi suggest that they get dinner together since they were all planning to do that anyway and neither Kuroo nor Kenma can really refuse. 

They dine at a small family restaurant that Oikawa and Iwaizumi claim to have frequented a lot in high school. The owner seems to recognize them as soon as they enter the room, as do some of the patrons who whisper behind their hands and constantly shoot glances in their table’s direction. Oikawa soaks up all the attention like a sponge, one who couldn’t really care less about it but still wants to feel validated nonetheless. 

At one point, a shy stranger approaches their table with his phone in his hand, the inward slouch of his shoulders and the refusal to make straight eye contact with any of them for more than a second indicating that he’s clearly about to ask for a photo. Oikawa is ready to oblige, already sitting up straighter in his seat with his most charming smile on his face, before the stranger abruptly turns to Kenma and asks to take a selfie with the famous Kodzuken himself.

Both Oikawa and Kenma look stunned as Kenma slowly nods his head and tries his best not to look spooked as the stranger takes his selfie, thanks him profusely and promptly leaves. The stranger’s eyes gloss right over Oikawa, apparently not even recognizing him at all. Kuroo can’t stop laughing afterwards, whether at Kenma’s panic or the dumbfounded look on Oikawa’s face, he won’t say. Oikawa seems pretty miffed after the fact but gets over it pretty quickly. 

After a while and especially once he’s got some food in him, Kenma finds settling into conversation with Iwaizumi and Oikawa much easier. Iwaizumi is the easiest to get along with, with his seemingly never-ending patience and reassuring presence. He doesn’t pry, doesn’t interrupt, doesn’t laugh or judge anything that Kenma says except when it’s clearly intended as a joke. There’s something very charming about his smile, almost disarming, and Kenma understands now why Shouyo told him that one time that everyone on the national team has at least a bit of a crush on their athletic trainer.

Oikawa, in contrast, is neither calming nor quite as friendly. Sure, he can be charming when he wants to be and he’s definitely got the smile for it but it isn’t the same as Iwaizumi’s. Oikawa is polite enough, at least after that first question back at Rinnoji, and he’s careful this time not to overstep any more boundaries with his flippant attitude and jokes, but there’s something different about his eyes. They seem to follow Kenma’s movements with a kind of appraising look, as if they really were opponents on opposite sides of the net trying to get a read on each other. But Kenma supposes that in that way, he and Oikawa aren’t so different.

As one last stop for the night, Iwaizumi and Oikawa decide to take them to Jozenji-dori. It’s a beautiful promenade lined with tall zelkova trees in full fall colors. Their branches stretch out above their heads, creating a natural archway as they walk beneath, and the crisp fallen leaves crunch under their feet as they go. 

Kuroo doesn’t try to hold Kenma’s hand this time, content for now to walk at an even pace beside him, admiring the autumn foliage. Kenma is tempted to be the one to do it this time, to just grab Kuroo’s hand and intertwine their fingers once more, but before he even knows it, Kuroo starts walking on ahead as he chats with Iwaizumi.

“You should see this place in the winter.” 

Kenma turns to look at Oikawa in surprise, suddenly appearing beside him as he stares up at the trees. “They cover all the trees in all these bright lights and illuminations and it’s like you’re in a completely different world.” 

There’s something different about him then. His voice is soft, his gaze distant and wistful, and his expression seems almost sad.

“You must miss being home,” Kenma says and Oikawa looks at him in surprise, as if just realizing who he was talking to. But he’s quick to hide his surprise with a smile as he stares up at the trees again. Kenma matches his pace beside him, hands balled into fists in the pockets of his coat.

“Yeah,” Oikawa says. “Though I haven’t thought of this place as my home for a while now. Argentina is my home now. But you know, whoever said we couldn’t have two homes, right?”

Kenma nods. “How long has it been since you were last here?”

Oikawa scoffs. “God, I can’t remember anymore. I try to visit whenever I can but I get so lost in my training sometimes. If it weren’t for Iwa-chan一” Oikawa suddenly stops.

Kenma raises an eyebrow. “Iwa-chan?” The name sounds weird on his tongue, as if it shouldn’t belong there. It feels like it’s meant to be said by Oikawa and Oikawa alone.

When Oikawa looks at him again, the assessing look is back, as if he were trying to discern whether to trust Kenma with whatever he is about to say. After a while, he sighs and shrugs. “Well, you know, Iwa-chan and I...We’re used to being away from each other by now. Ever since we went our separate ways in college, it seems that we just can’t live near each other for long before we both decide that we want to leave again.”

Kenma gestures towards a nearby bench and he and Oikawa take a seat. 

“So it’s always been a long distance thing with you two?” Kenma asks.

Oikawa snorts. “If you could even call it a thing.”

Kenma frowns. “What do you mean?”

Oikawa runs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know why I’m even telling you this, but...me and Iwa-chan have been on and off constantly for the past few years.”

Kenma’s eyes widen and Oikawa scowls at him. “What? Is it really that surprising?”

Kenma gives a small laugh and looks away, reaching up to scratch behind his neck. “I don’t know, it’s just...unexpected. You two seem so…” So perfect for each other. So content. Like Bokuto and Akaashi. Like Shouyo and Kageyama. Like every other perfect couple we know.

“Perfect?” Oikawa finishes the sentence for him with a scoff. “No, far from it. No relationship is ever perfect.”

“Tell me about it,” Kenma mutters and Oikawa chuckles. 

“Yeah,” he says. “My thoughts exactly. Let’s just say that my goals and Iwa-chan’s don’t often align. He wants to stay in Japan, plant his roots here, live out his dream here. But there’s just such a huge world out there and so many things that I want to do and see. I’m not satisfied with staying here, even if it means being able to stay with him.”

Kenma fidgets with his hands on his lap, unsure what to say or if he should even be having this conversation with Oikawa at all. “But are you...are you guys still…?”

Oikawa shrugs. “We both know how we feel about each other and we hook up here and there. We still see each other and go out and do our best to keep in touch. But I guess, sometimes, it just doesn’t work out and we have to let it go for now, accept that the timing isn’t right, that we’ve both got two very different things going on at the same time and that there’s just no other way through it.”

“How...” Kenma begins then trails off as he realizes that he’s not entirely sure how to word it. Oikawa waits as he taps a rhythm on the ground with his foot. “How do you keep that up without, I don’t know, just calling the whole thing off entirely?” Kenma finally asks.

Oikawa hums as he leans back against the bench. “You know, I still wonder about that sometimes. How do we keep it up? I guess, if you really want an answer, we just...do. It’s just what comes naturally to us. After all, we were best friends before we were ever lovers. And sometimes, what we need isn’t a lover, but a friend.”

Kenma frowns. “I’m not sure I understand.”

Oikawa laughs. “Neither do I, to be honest. But let me try and explain anyway. You and Kuroo-san are childhood friends, right?”

Kenma’s not sure about that present tense but he nods. 

“Well,” Oikawa says, “look at it this way. Even before you got romantically involved, you still do stuff together that most couples do. You go out on dates, even if you both don’t acknowledge it as a date. You talk, get each other gifts, spend your birthdays together, go meet their family. It’s honestly not that different when you think about it.”

Kenma nods along slowly. He’s starting to see a point.

“Sometimes,” Oikawa continues, “that’s all you really need. To be there for each other. None of the bonus intimate stuff you get when you’re in a relationship. And sometimes, being best friends is a lot easier and a lot more manageable than being lovers.”

“But wouldn’t you rather be lovers?” Kenma interjects before he can stop himself. 

“Well of course. There’s always going to be feelings. But it’s not like we’re never going to be lovers, you know. I still want to hold his hand and kiss him and yes, have sex with him and all that romantic shit. It’s just...I guess sometimes the time isn’t right for those kinds of feelings, and we both have to learn to respect and accept that and wait for the right time, whenever that’s going to be. Besides, at the end of the day, no matter how bad of a fight we had or how far we went, we still want to be together. We still want to try, and I suppose that’s enough.”

Kenma lets Oikawa’s words wash over him, lets his brain catch up with all the meaning behind them, before he nods. “I think I kind of get it now.”

“Good. ‘Cause I am not repeating all that mushy shit to someone I barely know. What is this, a shoujo manga? Ugh, that was too much.”

Kenma chuckles. “You’ve gotten a lot wiser.”

Oikawa gives an indignant snort. “Excuse you, I’ve always been this wise. Nobody just seems to ever ask.” He pauses and adds in a quiet voice, not looking at Kenma, “But you know, to your credit, you are pretty easy to talk to. I can see why Shouyo likes you.”

They both lapse into silence and for once, it isn’t tense or awkward. It’s comfortable even, which is strange to Kenma, especially since Oikawa is practically a stranger to him. But he finds that he doesn’t really mind Oikawa so much anymore. 

“Hey, we were wondering where you guys went!” Kuroo comes striding towards them with Iwaizumi not far behind him. “You could have told us you wanted to take a break.”

Oikawa sighs as he gets to his feet and stretches. “I’m tired. I think it’s time we get back home. Right, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi blinks. “Um. Sure. Okay.”

Oikawa walks up to Iwaizumi and casually grabs his hand, twining his fingers around his with an angelic smile. Iwaizumi’s face abruptly erupts into a bright shade of red and there’s no mistaking the clear panic in his eyes as he glances between Oikawa and Kuroo and Kenma who both watch them with wide eyes.

“I trust you two know the way back to your hotel?” Oikawa asks to which both Kuroo and Kenma can only nod. 

“Good. This was a pleasant surprise. We’ll see you two at the reception tomorrow!” Oikawa squeezes Iwaizumi’s hand and Iwaizumi blinks and bids both Kuroo and Kenma a hasty goodbye, more than a bit flustered. Right before they turn and walk away, Oikawa catches Kenma’s eye and gives him one last encouraging smile, probably the most genuine one he’s ever seen Oikawa wear, and then they’re gone, walking off in the opposite direction with their hands still entwined. At one point, Kenma swears that he sees Oikawa lean his head against Iwaizumi’s shoulder before they disappear behind a thick crowd.

“Well.” Kuroo turns to look at him and gives a little nervous laugh. “Sorry I left you alone with Oikawa back there.”

Kenma shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was very...enlightening.”

Kuroo looks at him curiously. “What, did you two just become best friends in the span of a few minutes?”

Kenma shrugs. “I guess, in a way, we both respect and understand each other better.”

“Are you serious?” Kuroo asks incredulously before Kenma begins walking in the general direction of the station. 

“Oi, Kenma!” he calls, jogging to catch up to him. “What does that mean ?”

They make it back to the hotel without getting too lost, although they do spend at least five minutes wondering which train line they should ride. Exhausted from a whole day out and about, they both collapse onto the bed as soon as they’re past the door. Kenma is ready to pass out in his clothes before Kuroo prods him awake and practically drags him to the bathroom to get changed. 

One shower later, Kenma walks out of the bathroom in his pajamas and lays down on the bed with his phone. Kuroo has changed clothes while he was in the shower and sits back against the bed’s headrest in loose sweatpants and a plain black t-shirt that does nothing to hide the surprising amount of muscle that’s still in his arms. Kenma tries not to stare, though in the moments that he does sneak a peek, he’s glad Kuroo’s eyes are too glued to the TV to notice.

Kenma doesn’t really know how it happens but one moment, he’s scrolling through Twitter on his phone, and the next, he’s fallen asleep with his phone over his face. He only realizes that he’s fallen asleep when he feels his phone being pried out of his hand slowly and carefully. He doesn’t move and keeps his eyes shut as Kuroo takes his phone. 

Then he feels Kuroo’s arms lift him up slightly before his head is laid down on a pillow. Kuroo’s hand brushes his hair away from his face and lingers at his temple for a brief second before Kuroo draws them away. The lights are turned off and Kenma feels the bed sink a little before the other end of their shared comforter is pulled more towards Kuroo’s side.

Kenma hears a deep sigh and then complete silence. He doesn’t move an inch for at least five minutes before the temptation becomes agonizing.

Kenma opens his eyes and turns over to come face to face with Kuroo’s broad back, shoulders rising and falling slowly with each breath. He’s not sure if he’s even already asleep or if he’s just about to drift off. Kenma inches closer, then closer, then closer, till he’s right behind Kuroo.

They haven’t slept in the same bed since they were together. This is probably the closest he’s ever been to Kuroo since then too. Kenma can feel Kuroo’s warmth from here, feel every single breath rock their bed, every small shift and movement.

Kenma hardly dares to breath as he moves closer and rests his forehead lightly against Kuroo’s back, right between his shoulder blades. He stays that way for three seconds, he counts, before he can’t take it anymore and quickly pulls away and turns his back on Kuroo. He screams at himself in the dark, wondering why he thought that was a good idea or why he didn’t think Kuroo would even notice.

Of course Kuroo noticed. It’s only been a couple minutes since he lay down, he’s not going to fall asleep immediately. Or can he? Kenma clenches his eyes shut and bids himself to sleep the embarrassment and slight disappointment off.

Unbeknownst to him, Kuroo stirs and turns slightly. He stares at Kenma’s motionless figure for a long moment, as if he were waiting for something, anything. Then he turns his back on him again and shuts his eyes as they both prepare for a long night.

****

It’s the day after the break up and Kenma feels fine.

He doesn’t feel like bawling his eyes out or hurling himself off a cliff. He doesn’t feel like locking himself up in his room surrounded by tubs of ice cream while he watches some romantic drama on TV. He doesn’t even feel like lying in bed and doing absolutely nothing. 

There’s too much to be done, too much work that needs attending, too much time that must be spent doing things other than dwelling on Kuroo and what just happened last night.

So Kenma goes about his day the same as every other day before it. He gets breakfast, he goes to work in his study, breaks for lunch, works again, gets dinner, spends a couple more hours doing work before retiring to his bedroom for the night to sleep.

Eat, work, eat, work, sleep.

He doesn't give himself time to think, time to sit down and be alone with his thoughts, time to ponder on what ifs and why nots. Right now, there’s simply nothing more important than not thinking about what happened and Kenma does it gladly. He throws himself into work like he’s never done before, gets absorbed in even the most menial tasks, relishes in the long hours spent in what he supposes are productive activities.

He occupies his thoughts with video games or movies or TV shows or whatever form of entertainment he comes upon in his free time. He gets lost in imaginary worlds, grinds through entire levels as if there’s nothing more fun, and laughs at whatever pointless slapstick comedy that he can find. 

He convinces himself that there’s nothing he needs to think about. There’s nothing he needs to do beyond whatever needs to be done for his work and there’s nothing 一 or no one 一 that he needs to worry about other than himself. 

Before he even knows it, an entire week rushes by and Kenma gets a message one day from one of his assistants, practically begging him to take a break before he burns himself out and volunteering to take on all of the work that’s supposed to be his in the meantime. He tries to negotiate at first, tries telling them that there’s nothing else that he wants to do more than keep doing whatever it is he’s doing, but his assistant won’t have any of it.

What can he say, anyway, that’s good enough of an excuse? That if he stops working now, allows himself to stop running and just sit and rest for a while, that he’s inevitably going to think about his boyfriend一 no, ex-boyfriend now? 

And so, for the first time in a really long time, Kenma finds himself with too much free time and not enough things to do with it. And just as he had predicted, his thoughts wander to the still fresh wound that has been festering inside his chest for days now. 

In quiet moments as he sits on his engawa and stares out into his garden, he catches himself wondering what Kuroo’s up to and debating if he should call him up or message to see what he’s doing. Of course he doesn’t go through with any of that. How can he? After how things ended? After the grim and final way that he told him that they were over? After the grating hollow laugh that Kuroo gave then when he agreed, the one that still echoes at the back of his head sometimes when he’s about to go to sleep?

He has no obligations now, nothing that would require him to check up on anybody constantly, to ever spend so much time worrying about someone else. Yet it’s all Kenma can seem to do now. He feels Kuroo’s sudden absence from his life like the sore aching of his muscles after a run or a really long volleyball game. It doesn’t render him immobile or completely down but it does hurt. It weighs on him and it aches and it aches until Kenma has no choice but to acknowledge it.

But he’s dealt with sore muscles before and when all the ointments and painkillers don’t work, he knows that the best way is to just wait it out. This pain won’t last forever. Sooner or later, his muscles will be back to normal and it’ll be like they never hurt at all. Wounds scab over, broken bones mend back together, muscles grow stronger and more tolerant of pain, sooner or later. That’s all Kenma holds on to when he thinks about wanting to see Kuroo, what he tells himself when he can’t stop remembering how much it hurt to hear the gravel in Kuroo’s voice, the tired resignation when he said that they should break up.

The irony of the whole situation isn’t lost on him. He finally has the free time to do whatever he wants to do, and yet, there is nothing he wants to do more than the very thing that he can’t do in this situation. It’s both frustrating and funny in retrospect.

The days pass one after another and soon, Kenma’s back to work. He thanks his assistant for making him take a break, admitting that he needed it, before he throws himself into his usual routine once more.

Eat, work, eat, work, sleep.

Again and again till it becomes muscle memory, tried and practiced.

The distance between the present and that last fateful phone call grows and grows and the soreness in his muscles dull before they all but disappear. Another anniversary comes and goes and this time, Kenma takes notice only because he had set a reminder on his calendar, a reminder that he very quickly deletes as soon as its alarm rings.

He occupies his mind with other things, makes it easier to forget the Kuroo-shaped hole in his life, and follows his routine religiously.

Eat, work, eat, work, sleep.

A scar grows over the wound, stitched up and healing despite the phantom aches that still make themselves known every now and again. Kenma deletes every single photo with Kuroo in it on his phone and takes down the framed ones that his mom had put up one day on one of her visits. He finds every single article of clothing and every piece of junk that Kuroo left in his house and gives them all away. He even stops listening to all the bands and music that Kuroo has recommended to him and indirectly makes him think of him.

It’s a long process and Kenma doesn’t really realize just how long until it’s over, until he holds years’ worth of relics and mementoes in his hands and willingly gives them all away to strangers and to time. But he tells himself, before he gets all sentimental, that this is all for the sake of healing. Like rubbing ointment on his sore muscles to at least ease the pain even just a little bit. He’s only doing what anyone would do. It’s common sense. It’s what needs to be done before he can move on.

And move on he does. Or at least, he hopes. The wound scars over, the skin tissue heals, the ruptured veins repair themselves till Kenma feels nothing, till nothing but the obvious scar remains.

And suddenly, what had once seemed huge and insurmountable seems so small and laughable now, like they had been making mountains out of mole hills, like they were nothing but foolish children playing at being adults. 

But although the pain is no longer there, although Kenma can forget it’s even there for months on end, the scar is still visible and when Kenma catches sight of it, it feels like it’s being opened up again. He lies awake at night, staring up at his ceiling as he dwells on memories that he’s kept locked away in his head for too long and the what ifs that always accompany those memories now.

It could be months later, years even, and yet Kenma can’t ever forget. You can heal a broken bone but you never forget how it was broken in the first place. The memories creep up on him when he least expects it, reaching out with dark hands from beneath his bed to hold him in place and wrap their cold fingers around his throat, till Kenma feels like there’s not enough air in the room and has to crack open his window and breath in the cold air from outside, fill his lungs with its weight till there’s no more room for the heavy musty feeling in his chest, till it’s all pushed out and he can breathe easy again.

It’s in moments like these that Kenma looks at how much he’s lost, how much he’s changed. His house is cleaner now, no longer filled with forgotten junk. He’s more productive now, sure, and the results show. He goes out a lot less and hardly talks to any of his friends unless they talk to him first but that’s not really any different than before. 

The only friend he ever felt comfortable enough messaging first was 一 well. Gone. 

Then and only then does Kenma realize, as he clenches his fists on his windowsill and listens to the ever-present noise of the crickets out in his garden, as he brushes his hair out of his face and takes one huge breath and shouts up at the dark starless sky, that he realizes that he didn’t just lose his partner, but his best friend. 

Chapter Text

There’s something heavy lying across Kenma’s body.

Kenma stirs, the first signs of wakefulness poking at the edges of his consciousness. He grumbles something incoherent and turns over, hoping that’ll make the weird weight go away. It doesn’t and the moment Kenma turns over to his other side, he hits something solid like a wall. But warm, strangely enough. And breathing, judging by the steady movement and the tickle of air over the top of his head.

Kenma opens his eyes and comes face to face with Kuroo’s chest. Kenma spends a couple disoriented seconds wondering where he is or why he’s this close to Kuroo before it all comes back to him like a wave crashing to shore. He nearly bolts upright if it weren’t for Kuroo’s arm still placed firmly over his side and anchoring him down to the bed.

Kenma squirms and tries to wiggle out as best as he can but Kuroo’s arm is like a prison, trapping him underneath him like an iron bolt. This close to him, Kenma can count every single lash on his eyelids, see every single pore on his face, even smell puffs of his morning breath every time he exhales. 

He can feel his warmth radiating out of his skin and seeping into Kenma’s own bones. Kenma’s almost tempted to go back to sleep and wait till Kuroo wakes up himself but even as he closes his eyes, he can’t stop thinking about the very obvious weight on his side, or the hot breath on his face, or the quiet sounds of Kuroo’s breathing.

Then he makes the mistake of moving his leg and two things happen at once. One, Kenma realizes that their legs are a lot more entangled than he had thought. And two, something is most definitely poking out of Kuroo’s pants and brushing his thigh.

As soon as his leg makes contact with it, he hears Kuroo groan softly in his sleep and his expression changes subtly, lips parting as something that sounds very close to a moan escapes his lips. Kenma feels all of his blood rush to his face and he decides that he’s had enough.

He clears his throat as loudly as he can. Kuroo doesn’t stir. Kenma pokes him on the arm and then on his cheek. “K-Kuro,” he mumbles before he clears his throat again and repeats in a much louder voice. “Kuro.”

Kuroo frowns and finally starts to stir. He groans and shifts on his pillow but his eyes remain firmly shut. Kenma inhales deeply before he says one more time, “Kuroo! Wake up.”

Slowly, Kuroo lifts his eyelids. He blinks once then twice and stares back at Kenma, confused. Kenma clears his throat and looks at something above Kuroo’s ear. “Um,” he begins. “You’re, uh, kinda holding me down.”

Realization dawns on Kuroo and his eyes widen. “Oh, shi一!” he exclaims as he sits up faster than a bolt of lightning. Finally freed, Kenma sits up as well. He tries not to meet Kuroo’s eyes or draw attention to the very obvious tent in Kuroo’s pants as he clears his throat once more and rises out of bed. 

“I’m, uh…” He clears his throat again, feeling like he’s about to go hoarse with the amount of times he’s done that. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom.”

Kuroo gapes at him for a long while, face as red as a cherry, before he nods mutely and Kenma rushes to the bathroom as if he were being pursued by death itself. He locks the door behind him before he leans against it, mind catching up to what had just happened. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. He does his best to calm the erratic beating of his heart as he paces the bathroom for at least a minute before he flushes the toilet and exits. 

Kuroo is sitting on the edge of the bed, head bent over his phone. He looks up at the sound of the bathroom door and swiftly puts his phone down, as if he had just been caught looking at porn. Actually, that isn’t too unfounded an occurrence but Kenma doesn’t want to think about that too much.

“Bathroom’s free,” Kenma mutters as he walks over to the bedside and picks up his phone.

“Oh,” Kuroo says dumbly. “Okay.”

Kuroo gets up and shuffles towards the bathroom before he stops halfway there and turns back around to look at Kenma. “Um, Yakkun texted me. He said that the entire team wants to have brunch together at this restaurant.”

“Oh,” Kenma says dumbly. “Okay.”

Kuroo nods. “Okay?”

Kenma nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Kuroo clears his throat. “Okay.”

There’s a second of the most awkward silence Kenma’s ever had before Kuroo bolts into the bathroom and loudly slams the door behind him followed by the distinct sound of the lock. Kenma sighs and collapses back down onto the bed. 

Okay, no more thinking about it. He refuses to think about it any more than he has to. Kenma gets up and hurriedly grabs his clothes from his knapsack, determined to get dressed before Kuroo gets out of the bathroom. Kuroo is taking his precious time in there but Kenma doesn’t want to think about what he could be doing in there.

He gets changed quickly before he switches the TV on and pretends to be watching whatever news is on as Kuroo leaves the bathroom with a heavy sigh. He stops when he sees Kenma sitting on the bed already fully dressed and frowns. 

“We’re not meeting up with them for at least an hour yet,” Kuroo says.

Kenma shrugs. “Just being prepared.”

“Fair,” Kuroo says before he walks over to the bed and sits down beside him to watch the TV. 

They sit in what could very well be the most uncomfortable silence Kenma’s ever been in but neither of them seem intent to say a word. After a while, Kuroo gets up and into the bathroom to change and not long after that, they leave their room to follow the directions Yaku texted Kuroo to the restaurant, managing to find it after at least fifteen minutes of wandering around and asking passersby for clearer directions.

Kuroo reaches for his hand as soon as they’re in sight of it and this time, Kenma doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t jump when he feels Kuroo’s fingers twine around his own and he doesn’t react when Kuroo draws closer till their arms bump against each other and his thumb is drawing circles over his skin.

Lev is the first to notice them, towering over the rest of their former teammates with his silver hair and noticeably foreign features. 

“Ah, Kenma-san! Kuroo-san!” Lev calls out to them loudly and starts waving his hands above his head. Beside him, Yaku barks what looks and sounds like a harsh reprimand as he grabs Lev’s arms and forces them down.

“Yo!” Yamamoto calls out to them, less loudly than Lev’s but still loud enough for them to hear from where they are. He’s grinning and rising halfway out of his seat, looking genuinely excited to be seeing them again. All around the table, Kuroo and Kenma are greeted with equally large smiles and bright eyes, from Kai’s serene smile to Inuoka’s energetic grin that hasn’t changed a bit since high school.

Kuroo grins and raises his hand in greeting as they approach, pulling Kenma along. “Yo,” he greets the table as they arrive. “Hope we didn’t keep you guys waiting.”

Yaku scoffs, arms crossed over his chest. “Finally, the lovebirds have arrived! What, did you guys get lost?”

Kuroo laughs. “In our defense, your directions weren't that good.”

Yaku rolls his eyes but his smile is fond as he looks the both of them up and down. “Okay okay, sit down already, I’m sick of looking at you two.”

“Oya?” Kuroo smiles deviously. “Is Yakkun jealous?” He lifts his and Kenma’s hands till the rest of the table can see, much to Kenma’s complete embarrassment. “Surprised that Kenma and I have stood the test of time and are still happy with each other?”

Yaku scoffs. “You wish.”

“We can hold hands too, Yaku-san!” Lev says and immediately goes to grab Yaku’s hand from where it rests on top of the table. Yaku snatches it back in time, face already turning a slight red.

“I just feel sorry for Kenma,” Yaku says to Kuroo. “He’s had to deal with your sorry ass for most of his life and now he has to keep dealing with it in the near future.”

Kenma snorts. “He has a point.”

Kuroo looks affronted. “Betrayed by my own lover on the eve of our friend’s wedding.”

Yaku rolls his eyes again and stands to pull Kuroo towards the empty seat beside him. “Hurry up and sit down already before we cause a scene.”

“Kenma,” comes Fukunaga’s quiet voice as he beckons him towards the remaining empty chair beside him and across from Kuroo. Kenma obliges, glad that at least Fukunaga is here. 

“Man, I’m still not used to your hair,” Kuroo says, staring at the slick-backed style Yaku now wears it in. He lifts his hand to reach for it. “Seriously, what is up with it?”

Yaku swats his hand away. “I could literally say the same thing about yours.”

“Oi, Kenma!” Yamamoto has to lean over Fukunaga to get close to him. “You really let your hair grow out. It’s longer than the last time I saw you.”

Kenma shrugs and pulls out his phone. “Too lazy to get it cut.”

“Kenma-san, Kenma-san!” Lev leans over the table, eager eyes fixed on Kenma. “Didja see? Didja see?!”

Kenma quirks an eyebrow at him. “See what?”

“In Shibuya!”

“What’s in Shibuya?”

Lev looks hurt. “They put up a brand new billboard of me! I can’t believe you never noticed! It’s huge apparently!”

“Ehhh,” Kenma hums, deadpan, as he continues scrolling through his phone. “Good for you.”

Kai laughs from his seat beside Lev. “As stoic as ever, Kenma.”

Lev frowns and leans over the table. “What’s that, Kenma-san?” He points at the orange Happiness charm dangling from Kenma’s phone.

“Ah.” Kenma had forgotten that was there. “It’s an omamori charm,” he says simply.

“We got it at Hachimangu yesterday,” Kuroo says and Kenma shoots him a look. Kuroo only smiles as he pulls out his phone to show the rest the red Success charm Kenma had gotten him. “We bought one for each other.”

“Eugh.” Yaku makes a face and turns away from them as if he was just presented with a disgusting meal. “You two went sightseeing together and bought each other matching charms? You can be so gross sometimes.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows. “Excuse you, we weren’t the ones who made out in a public restroom while out with our friends because we couldn’t keep it in our pants.”

Yaku’s face reddens as the entire table, save perhaps for Lev, laughs.

“That was one time!” Yaku says. 

“Yaku-san, why don’t we ever get matching stuff?” Lev pouts.

“Because,” Yaku says in between sips of his drink, “it’s embarrassing and meaningless.”

“Man, I wish I had someone to get matching stuff with,” Yamamoto muses wistfully.

“I don’t think it’s meaningless!” Lev retorts. Yamamoto exchanges a quick and tired ‘here we go again’ look with Fukunaga and Kenma who both snicker into their hands. 

“In fact, they could serve as reminders of our love and you can always keep it with you to show that I’ll always be there!”

Yaku chokes on his drink and Kuroo has to smack him multiple times on the back, snickering all the while, till he turns to glare at Lev. “How do you honestly say stuff like that without getting embarrassed?”

“Because!” Lev’s voice is steadily rising in volume as he leans towards Yaku. “Why should I be embarrassed about you and how much I like you?”

The whole table falls silent, as does most of the restaurant apparently, as everyone stares at Yaku and Lev. Yaku flaps his mouth open and close like a fish before he puts his lips together in a tight line and stares back at Lev, his cheeks the reddest Kenma’s ever seen them.

“Jeez,” Kuroo finally breaks the silence. “And you call us gross.”

“Sh-Shut up!” Yaku snaps as he turns away from Lev, pointedly focusing on his drink. Everyone eyes each other awkwardly for a moment.

“Pffft.” Kenma hangs his head and tries to hide his face behind his hair but after a pause, the whole table erupts into laughter. 

Lev glances between each of them, eyes wide and mouth open. “What? Did I say something funny?”

Yaku rolls his eyes but his shoulders start to shake with laughter as well as he claps Lev on the back. “Maybe refrain from talking about our love life again or else you might just get punished.”

Lev visibly shudders at that, whether in fear or excitement, Kenma doesn’t really want to know. “Okay.”

Someone clears their throat loudly and they all turn to look at the awkwardly smiling waitress arriving with their food. After that, all conversation comes to a temporary standstill as everyone digs in.

“How’d you guys find this place?” Kenma asks through a mouthful of food. “This is good.”

“Shouhei knows the owner,” Yamamoto replies without looking up from his own food. 

Fukunaga makes an O.K sign with his fingers. “No problem, Constantinople.”

As the conversation goes on, Kenma finds himself relaxing more and more. They talk about the most mundane things about their jobs, like Inuoka getting a promotion or a new dish that Fukunaga made that’s been a huge hit with the restaurant regulars, but Kenma doesn’t find it boring or dull. In fact, he realizes then, as he listens to Kai talk about which plants are the easiest to manage as an arborist without understanding any of the terms he uses, that he misses this. 

He misses them. 

He misses Yamamoto’s tireless energy, that tough determined spirit that hasn’t waned once over the years. He misses Fukunaga’s silent yet reassuring presence, snickering at his own jokes. He misses Inuoka’s enthusiasm, Kai’s kind comforting presence, Shibayama’s quiet determination, Yaku’s sharp wit as he bickers with Kuroo and Lev. Heck, Kenma even misses how loud and blunt Lev is. 

Kenma feels like it’s been years since the whole team got together like this to just sit and relax and chat about their lives. Kenma feels bad for never calling or texting but the way everyone else is talking feels like no amount of time has passed between graduation to now. They talk as if they’re still broke teenagers who see each other at school everyday rather than adults with busy work lives that render them unable to really see each other for most of the year. It’s comforting to Kenma to know that no matter how much time passes or how much changes, he still has Nekoma and he’s sure the others feel the same. 

“So,” Kai says cheerfully as they continue to eat, “what do you guys think? About Kageyama and Hinata getting married.”

“It’s about time!” Inuoka pipes up and there’s several noises of assent across the table. “Even back in first year, you could tell there was something going on between those two. Although, they did make a competition out of everything back then.” 

Shibayama chuckles. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they actually had a competition over who would propose first.”

“Well who did propose first?” Yamamto asks.

“I heard it was Kageyama,” Kenma says. “Waited till after the Olympics to get it out of the way. Needless to say, I doubt Shouyo was expecting it.”

“That reminds me!” Lev says excitedly. “D’you think they’re having the ceremony right now as we speak?”

“Could be,” Shibayama says.

“Man, I wish I could see it! I’ve never been to a traditional wedding before.”

“You’re not missing much,” Yaku says absentmindedly as he scoops more food onto his spoon. “It’s all just a boring ceremony, take my word for it. The reception’s where the real fun’s at. There’s an all-you-can-eat buffet, alcohol, maybe some games. Plus you get to hear and tell embarrassing stories about the couple. What more could you want?”

Kuroo snorts. “You have no romantic spirit at all, Yakkun.”

Kai lets out a hearty laugh. “Time really flies, doesn’t it? It felt like only yesterday when we had that training camp with Karasuno and Fukurodani. Hinata and Kageyama were still pretty much fledglings back then. They really grow up so fast.”

Yaku nearly snorts out his soup. “What are you, their dad?”

“Stop making us sound older than we really are,” Kuroo quips.

Kai laughs in that kind, serene way he always has. “Sorry. I’m still getting used to the fact that people younger than me are already getting married before I am.”

“Don’t remind me too,” Yamamoto grumbles. “My prospects are running out as we speak. Akane won’t stop hounding me about it. It’s always ‘when are you gonna get a girlfriend other than volleyball’ or ‘when are you gonna make me an aunt’ or something like that.”

“Now, now,” Kuroo says through a mouthful of food. “Marriage isn’t everything.”

“Is that why you and Kenma-san haven’t gotten married yet?” Lev asks innocently.

Kenma abruptly stops chewing and Kuroo starts to choke on his food. Every pair of eyes at the table turns to look at them both and Kenma wants to shrink down and escape through the cracks on the restaurant’s floor. With some help from Yaku, Kuroo finally swallows his food down and he and Kenma share a look, eyes wide and full of panic and...some unnameable emotion that Kenma can’t quite place that’s there one second and then gone the next. 

“I mean,” Lev says through cheeks full to bursting, “you two have known each other for so long, right? If there was any couple I knew that I thought would tie the knot before everyone else, I really thought it would be you two.”

Lev yelps as Yaku kicks his shins from underneath the table. “Stop talking, you idiot!” he hisses at him. 

“No, he has a point,” Yamamoto says, ignoring Yaku’s pointed glare. “You two practically spent half of your high school days dancing around each other and you’ve always been inseparable. Like you two came in a set or something.” Yamamoto’s tone is humorous and good-natured and Kenma knows he means well but he still feels the weight of Yamamoto’s words sink to the very bottom of his stomach like a stone.

“Can I be your best man, Kuroo-san?” Inuoka asks before Shibayama elbows him in the ribs. “Idiot. If anyone’s going to be Kuroo-san’s best man, it has to be Yaku-san or Kai-san.”

“Oh.” Inuoka deflates then straightens back up again as his eyes light up with another idea. “Then I’ll be Kenma-san’s best man!”

“Now, now.” Kuroo laughs. “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Nothing’s set in stone yet.”

Yaku raises his eyebrows. “Yet?”

Kuroo shrugs. “You never know what’s going to happen in the future.”

“Why don’t you just say if you want to marry Kenma-san or not?” Lev says. “You’ve probably thought about it at least once, right?”

The look that Kuroo and Kenma share then is tense and loaded, full of unspoken words and possibilities. Then Kuroo laughs, smooth and suave and not at all betraying the nervousness Kenma had seen in his eyes. 

“Kenma and I don’t need the contract of marriage to affirm how much we love each other. We’re perfectly content with the way things are and even if we do get married, that wouldn’t change anything.” 

Something about Kuroo’s tone changes after that. He sounds so...soft and fond, so much so that even Kenma believes him. “I don’t need anything like marriage to tell me how much I love Kenma or what I’d do for him. But before it happens, if it ever does, I want to take my time. I don’t want to mess it up. He’s too important to me for that.”

There’s a long pause where everyone at the table, even Kenma, can’t stop staring incredulously at Kuroo. Kenma almost thinks that nobody’s buying it. And then there are various ‘aww’s and ‘ooh’s from around the table and one particularly convincing gagging noise from Yaku. 

“Well said.” Kai gives an approving smile while Fukunaga quietly applauds.

“Do you mind if I borrow those exact words, Kuroo-san?” Yamamoto asks. 

“You guys are seriously going to make me throw up.” Yaku makes a disgusted face.

Kuroo grins and whatever fond and loving act he had been putting up disappears almost instantly. Kenma’s a bit disappointed to see it go. “While we’re on the topic of marriage, Yakkun, I can’t be the only guy in a relationship who’s subjected to this. Need I remind you that you and Lev have been together for as long as we have and are somehow not even engaged yet?”

Lev practically slams his spoon and fork down on the table as he turns to Kuroo. “That’s what I’ve been saying !” He gesticulates wildly between him and Yaku. “Why aren’t we married yet, Yaku-san?!”

Yaku glances between Kuroo and Lev, as horrified as if they had just told him that he was being held hostage, mouth gaping open and closed as he tries to think of something to say. 

“That’s right!” Yamamoto chimes in though the gleeful look on his face suggests that he’s only jumping in to tease Yaku. “Anyone who can put up with Lev for as long as you have and still want to stay with him can certainly put up with him for the rest of their life.”

“Hey!” Lev scowls at Yamamoto.

“Was that supposed to convince me, Yamamoto?” Yaku says. 

“Ooh Yaku-san, can I be your best man?” Inuoka asks.

“I want to be Yaku-san’s best man!” Shibayama argues. “I think I have more right than you do, Inuoka.”

“Oi Lev,” Yamamoto says. “Introduce me to one of your model friends while you’re at it, would ya? I’ll make you best man at our wedding if you do.”

“What a glamorous affair that would be,” Kai muses, voice so comically sunny. “An Olympic volleyball player with his model husband. My, think of all the press you’ll get.”

“What kind of theme are you guys thinking of?” Kuroo asks. “White? Pink? Ooh how about the classic Nekoma red and black?”

“Leave the catering to me,” Fukunaga volunteers.

“I can sponsor a few things, I guess,” Kenma adds.

“Guys!” Yaku has to shout to be heard over the cacophony. “We are not getting married! Yet!” he adds almost as an afterthought and Lev gasps, hand coming up to cover his mouth.

“Yaku-san, does that mean一!”

“Whatever!” Yaku turns away from him, face red. 

Everyone continues their relentless teasing and Kenma smiles at their jokes and laughs at Yaku’s embarrassment along with everyone else. Still, there’s a lingering sense of discomfort that he can’t seem to shake off. Kuroo’s words echo around in his head like a shout in a cave, resonating and bouncing off the walls but never disappearing. 

Is that really what you feel? Kenma wants to ask Kuroo. Even back then, was that what you thought? He tries to direct the question to Kuroo with nothing but his eyes but Kuroo either doesn’t see it or just doesn’t hold Kenma’s gaze long enough. Kenma isn’t even sure if he wants to know the answer. But some part of him can’t help being hung up over it. Try as he might, he can’t reason with himself about what he’s going to do with that information if he ever gets an answer.

He watches the way Kuroo laughs, notes the easygoing confidence that seems to come so naturally to him, and he reminds himself that he’s only acting. He’s only repeating lines from a script. Every single motion, every touch of a finger, every fond gaze is nothing more than the practiced movements of an actor and Kenma doesn’t know why it’s taking him this long to get that through his head. 

This is what they’ve been preparing for this whole time, isn’t it? It’s what they came here to do, the only reason why he called Kuroo that night a week after he got the invitation. Besides, if those words earlier were really how Kuroo felt, then would they have even broken up in the first place? Wouldn’t he have stayed? Or would he have left anyway?

And as if that wasn’t already ruining what had previously been a pleasant brunch, there’s the way Yaku and Kai keep looking at him. Kenma can tell that they’re trying their best to hide it but Yaku is a lot less subtle than Kai and there’s no mistaking that look of worry and caution that he keeps sending Kenma’s way, no matter how fleeting. It’s enough to make Kenma suspect that something is up and it’s just yet another uncomfortable notion that he can’t brush off.

The rest of their little reunion brunch passes by in a blur and Kenma finds himself standing outside of the restaurant with the rest of the team, pondering what to do with their remaining time before the reception.

“Well I’m going back to bed!” Yamamoto says with a well-timed yawn. “The reception isn’t till this evening anyway.”

“We were gonna hang out at our hotel room till then.” Inuoka gestures at himself and Shibayama. “You’re welcome to come and get ready with us. I brought my Switch and even some cards!”

“Kenma-san, wanna come?” Shibayama asks. “We could use the extra controllers.”

Kenma blinks and opens his mouth to reply before Yaku drapes an arm around his shoulders and smiles apologetically at Shibayama. “Sorry Shibayama, but Kenma’s coming with us.”

Kenma blinks. “I am?”

Kai nods as he appears at his other side. “We were going to go check out the downtown. Get some last minute shopping in. Fukunaga’s coming too, aren’t you?”

Fukunaga nods and Kai and Yaku both face Kenma. “Whaddaya say, Kenma? You in?”

The look on Yaku’s face tells Kenma that they won’t take no for an answer so he nods, already feeling dread settle in his gut.

“I’ll come too,” Kuroo says before Yaku holds up a hand and stops him in his tracks. 

“Me too!” Lev practically jumps at the prospect.

“No you’re not,” Yaku says flatly. “You two are going back to the hotel with the rest. This is strictly between me, Kai, Fukunaga and Kenma.”

Kuroo frowns. “Did you guys make some sort of alliance when I wasn’t paying attention?”

“Yep.” Yaku is already turning his back on Kuroo and pushing Kenma forward by the shoulders. “Now scram. I can’t wait to talk mad shit about you with Kenma.”

Lev makes to follow them but Kuroo quickly lifts an arm to bar his path and shakes his head. “Okay,” Kuroo calls after the departing group. “Just be back before sundown! That’s when we have to get ready.”

“Yeah yeah, we get it, mom!” Yaku calls from over his shoulder.

“See you guys back at the hotel!” Inuoka yells.

Kenma glances back at Kuroo one last time and mouths a quick ‘sorry.’ Kuroo only smiles and shakes his head before he turns and follows the rest of the team back to the hotel. 

“Geez, I thought we were never going to get rid of ‘em.” Yaku sighs as he leads the group down the street with Fukunaga taking up the rear. “Especially Lev. I was sure he was going to try and follow us anyway.”

Kenma brushes Yaku’s hands off of him and pulls away so he can walk at an even pace beside him. “What’s this really about?”

Yaku blinks. “Nothing. We just wanted to spend some time with our dear kouhai whom we haven’t seen in months.”

Kai nods. “It really has been a while, Kenma. We mostly hang out with Kuroo but he never brings you along even when we tell him to.”

Kenma feels a twinge of guilt in his chest. “Yeah, uh, sorry about that. I guess I was just too busy.”

“Hey.” Yaku places a reassuring hand on his shoulder. “It’s fine. We get it. Running your own company from your own home can’t be easy.”

“Ha!” Kenma lets out one wry laugh. “It’s really not.”

“It’s nice to see that you’re managing well despite that though.” Kai smiles and Kenma feels a swell of pride. Kai always had that effect whenever he praised his underclassmen. 

“Besides, we figured you might need the space after what happened at the restaurant,” Yaku adds.

Kenma tries to smile even half-heartedly. “Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“What say we put all this talk about marriage aside till the reception?” Kai suggests. “Fukunaga, didn’t you say you wanted to check out the market?”

Fukunaga nods, a look of rare excitement on his face and it’s enough to make Kenma smile, to make him go along with whatever Kai and Yaku are planning for the time being just to forget Kuroo’s words still repeating over and over in his head.

It’s already way past the morning when their little group arrives at the Asaichi market but Fukunaga doesn’t seem to care. He flits between one stall to another to browse their produce along with a couple local delicacies that he explains can’t be found anywhere else. It’s probably the most Kenma’s ever seen him talk ever and it’s pleasant to hear him talk about various ingredients and the possible dishes he could cook them into. It also makes Kenma hungry but Kenma vows not to eat anything for the entire afternoon so he has more room in his stomach for the buffet that’s inevitably coming later.

The air is fresher here somehow, although the clear scent of fish and meat mingle and create a rather confusing mixture of smells in Kenma’s nose. But it’s nice in its own way and reminds Kenma of visiting the market with Kuroo and his grandmother when they were little. They always made a game out of it, trying to see who would get found last if they were to hide from grandma. He didn’t enjoy the scolding he’d get afterwards, whether from Kuroo’s grandmother, his parents or whatever poor shopkeeper they’d surprise when they would suddenly emerge from their hiding spot, but he still remembers the frantic but excited beating of his heart when he’d crouch under tables or behind cardboard boxes and crates and even here among unfamiliar street corners and market stalls, he can almost hear Kuroo’s mischievous little snicker as they would race down the street, arms laden with plastic bags.

And there he goes, thinking about Kuroo again.

Kenma forces the memories out of his head as Fukunaga pays for one last thing and meets them afterwards, looking quite pleased with himself.

They make their way to the Ichibancho Shopping Arcade afterwards. They marvel at the trees that grow out of gaps on the tiled floor and the glass domed ceiling above that bathes the entire arcade in bright afternoon sunlight. They spend a couple of minutes just walking around the place before they find shops that catch their eye and wander off as a group.

They spend an embarrassing amount of time going into clothing stores and trying on clothes that they don’t intend to buy, taking pictures in the dressing room mirrors and parading back and forth in front of the dressing rooms as if they were in a fashion show. Yaku ends up looking too much like a yakuza when he tries on a gaudy leopard-print shirt and an even gaudier white satin suit jacket, especially when he puts on his sunglasses. Even Kenma joins in the fun, tempted by the infectious energy the others bring with them. He feels like they’re in high school again. Just a couple of dumb teenagers out on a weekend together, goofing off without a care in the world. 

They stop at every hundred yen store they can find just to see what kind of neat but marginally useless junk they can buy. Unsurprisingly, they do end up buying quite a few things. Fukunaga becomes enamored with a pair of sushi and sashimi keychains and one of those boxes whose only function is to switch itself off while Yaku immediately makes off with the most boring item Kenma has ever seen anyone buy at a hundred yen store, a pair of socks. 

They find a game center almost immediately after they leave the last store and Kenma glides towards it like a moth to a lightbulb as soon as he sees it. They spend the next hour or two getting lost among the old school arcade games and flashing neon lights and nearly feeling out of place among the crowds of young kids, teenagers and hardcore gamers that frequent the place. 

Kenma feels a number of eyes on him as soon as he enters and he gets the creeping suspicion that someone, or maybe multiple people, are about to approach him for a picture or a handshake like at the restaurant the night before. Sure enough, one teenaged boy gets brave enough to tap him nervously on the shoulder and asks if he’s really the Kodzuken and when Kenma affirms that fact, he turns red in the face, shakes his hand once and then leaves without another word. Another group of teenagers are a lot more amicable when they approach him and even invite him to play a few games with them, eager to see if they can beat Kodzuken himself, but Kenma politely declines.

Kai, it seems, proves to be very good at the crane games and he wins Yaku a stuffed white lion that he admits with much reluctant grumbling he had been eyeing as a gift for Lev. Fukunaga gets the highest score among the four of them at Taiko no Tatsujin while Kenma remains unbeaten at Street Fighter and Tekken. 

Yaku challenges Kenma to a game of DDR at the center’s giant DDR set-up and although Kenma has never won a single DDR game against Kuroo or anyone else for that matter, he accepts the challenge nonetheless. One exhausting fast-paced song later, Kenma taps out and asks Fukunaga to replace him which the latter gladly does. 

“Having fun?” Kai asks when Kenma goes to join him to watch Yaku decimate Fukunaga at DDR. Kenma laughs and wipes the sweat off his forehead, pushing his sweat-soaked bangs out of his face. 

“Yeah,” Kenma says, still breathless. “I actually am.”

“Glad to hear it.” Kai smiles. “This is nostalgic, isn’t it? Like we’re visiting the arcade after school. Nobody ever could beat Yaku at DDR even back then.”

Kenma chuckles. “I guess that’s one advantage of playing libero. The only one who ever got close was Kuroo but that was mostly because he was just too stubborn to let Yaku win all the time.”

“That’s right.” Kai laughs at the memory. “And you’d be off playing Street Fighter, trying to defend your high score. Kuroo once said that you liked to come back there at least once a week just to maintain your rank.”

“Yeah, I remember that. I wonder if I’m still the highest scoring player or if some snot-nosed grubby-fingered middle schooler with more time on his hands has replaced me yet.”

“We visit that arcade sometimes when we meet up and Kuroo plays just to check, even if he’s bad at Street Fighter.”

Kenma frowns at Kai. “Kuroo still checks my high score?”

Kai blinks. “Yes. I thought you knew. Doesn’t he tell you?”

Kenma purses his lips and looks away. He watches Yaku stumble for a brief moment before he regains his footing and Fukunaga falls behind. “No,” Kenma replies. “Not really.”

“Oh.” Kai clears his throat and turns his attention back to the DDR game. 

Kenma wants to ask him so many things. Like why does Kuroo still check his high score? Do they visit that arcade for that reason alone? Is he still the top reigning Street Fighter champion of Nerima city? But he stays quiet as he watches Yaku finish the song with a flourish and Fukunaga nearly trips over his own feet.

Fukunaga drags them to the purikura booths afterwards and they spend ten minutes taking as many photos as possible and the other thirty or so minutes editing them to their hearts’ content. By the time they leave their booth, they have photos of them with huge sparkly eyes and mascara, 3D cat ears and whiskers, porcelain skin and luminescent blush and one particularly terrifying photo of Kenma’s head when he stood up in the middle of a photo and stared straight into the camera.

“What’s the plan, leche flan?” Fukunaga asks as they leave the game center an hour and a half later. 

Yaku hums. “Karaoke? Maybe go see a movie?”

“How ‘bout we sit down for a bit?” Kenma says. “Fukunaga agrees with me.”

Fukunaga gives a thumbs up beside Kenma, still looking visibly exhausted from the DDR match.

“Fine,” Yaku grumbles. “But we’re going to karaoke after this!”

Kai checks his watch and frowns. “Maybe only for thirty minutes or so. We have to get back to the hotel soon.”

Yaku rolls his eyes and sighs exasperatedly. “ Fine .”

Kai looks at him curiously. “What’s got you so worked up? Did you and Lev have a misunderstanding again?”

“No.” Yaku scoffs. There’s a short beat. “Yes.”

“Wooow,” Kenma drawls out. “You and Lev, fighting? Imagine that.”

“Shut up, Kenma.” Yaku shoves Kenma lightly on the shoulder. “It’s a lot more complicated than that.”

“Oh? Then please, try us.”

Yaku sighs and shakes his head. “That’s not why I dragged you out here with us.”

Kenma raises his eyebrows. “What?”

“Nothing!” Yaku is quick to add. Yaku and Kai exchange a quick look. “Maybe we should go sit down,” Kai says.

They find a small milk tea place and sit on one of the outdoor tables. Fukunaga practically melts the moment he drops the many shopping bags he’s carrying and sinks into his seat. Kai orders for them and Kenma is left staring resolutely back at Yaku’s assessing gaze, feeling the same way he felt under Oikawa’s scrutiny the night before.

Kenma clears his throat if only to fill the silence. “So, we met Oikawa and Iwaizumi yesterday.”

Yaku’s eyes widen. “Really? Where?”

“At Rinnoji. We had dinner with them then walked through Jozenji-dori. Good job with receiving his serves at the Olympics by the way.”

Yaku laughs. “Thanks. They were super tough to get used to, I’ll tell you that. But nothing I can’t handle.”

“You went sightseeing with Kuroo?” Kai asks casually.

Kenma nods. “Yeah. Kinda hard not to when Kuroo’s practically begging to go.”

There’s another shared look between Kai and Yaku and Kenma feels himself grow more and more irritated the more he catches them doing that. “What’s that look for?”

Kai purses his lips, expression unusually serious as he folds his hands on top of the table. “We just have our concerns, Kenma. About you and Kuroo.”

“What about me and Kuroo?” Kenma’s surprised at the defensive tone in his voice and it seems to alarm Kai as well.

“It’s probably nothing.” Yaku tries for a lighthearted laugh. “We just can’t help but worry. I mean, we haven’t heard anything from you and Kuroo but it’s been a while since we saw you two together.”

Kenma fidgets with his fingers on his lap. “Yeah, uh, we’re both pretty busy. It’s not easy trying to schedule anything because we can’t always find the time. Bad timing, you know?”

“Hm.” Yaku sounds almost dismissive. “Sure. Bad timing.”

Kenma picks at his cuticles with a fingernail, trying his best not to meet Yaku’s eyes lest he see the obvious guilt and nervousness there. “I’m sure Kuroo’s already told you all my excuses before.”

“I feel like we’ve heard every single one at this point,” Yaku says. “Work, family, just not feeling up to it. Bad timing.”

Kenma scowls. “What is it exactly that you want me to say? That something’s wrong?”

Kai and Yaku exchange another quick look and Kai holds out a placating hand. “Kenma, we’re not trying to get a rise out of you. We just wanted to let you know that...well, if there’s anything you need to talk about, you can always talk to us. Or even Fukunaga here.”

Fukunaga sits upright with a thumbs up and the closest thing to a reassuring smile he can give. 

“Or anyone on the team, really,” Yaku says. “I’m sure they’d all be willing to help out.”

“Have you told Kuroo the same thing?” Kenma asks.

Yaku scoffs. “When has he ever taken my advice?”

“You’d be surprised,” Kenma says.

“He hasn’t told us anything himself, if that’s what you want to know.” Kai stirs his cup around, looking contemplatively down at its contents. “He’s a lot more reticent when it comes to matters about his love life. Let’s just say, it takes a considerable amount of effort to pry anything out of him normally.”

“But something still hasn’t felt right for a while now,” Yaku says. “We’ve known you and Kuroo long enough to be able to tell.”

Kenma sighs. “First Akaashi, now you guys. Everyone seems to think that there’s something wrong. Well there’s not.” His voice comes out more defensive than he had intended, possibly making it even more obvious that he’s lying, but if they plan to keep this act up for the entire weekend, then Kuroo can’t be the only one not pulling any punches.

“It was all just misunderstandings,” Kenma continues, brusque and almost desperate. “Everyone has that. You and Lev argue all the time. Is it really so hard to believe that me and Kuroo have off days too? And besides, that’s all in the past now. It’s all been settled and put to rest so there’s really no need to worry. Besides, how is it any of your business what goes on between Kuroo and I?”

Kai and Yaku are silent. They don’t exchange any more looks this time, much to Kenma’s relief, and instead seem to look guiltily back at him, faces fallen.

“Sorry,” Yaku mutters after a while. “Yeah, you’re right. It’s none of our business.”

“We apologize, Kenma,” Kai says, “if we overstepped some boundaries. It was a bit too presumptuous of us and even more so thinking that we could solve your problems for you.”

Now Kenma’s starting to feel a little guilty himself. He sighs and shakes his head. “I’m sorry too. I didn’t mean to talk to you guys like that. And...I appreciate it, really.”

Kai smiles. “It’s fine. We meant it by the way, when we said that we’d listen if you ever need someone to talk to. But we’ll believe you if you say that nothing’s wrong.”

Kenma tries not to look too guilty and smiles. “Yeah. Thanks.”

Fukunaga lays a hand on Kenma’s shoulder and gives him a thumbs up. “No problem...Constantinople.”

Kenma blinks. “Pfft.” He covers his mouth with his hand. “Could you think of nothing else to rhyme ‘problem’ with?”

Fukunaga smiles and shrugs. Kai and Yaku chuckle as well.

“After what Kuroo said at the restaurant,” Kai says. “I wonder now how we could have ever thought that something was wrong.”

Kenma smiles wryly. So he had you fooled too. “It was a little embarrassing, I’ll admit.”

Yaku scoffs. “Embarrassing? Imagine how we felt.”

They laugh and spend a couple more minutes talking about less heavy topics and sipping their milk tea till the hour grows late and they all decide to head back to the hotel.

They pile into the elevator together, them and all their shopping bags, and realize that they’re all staying on the same floor. They chat as they walk to their respective rooms and Kenma’s glad that neither Kai nor Yaku are asking any more questions about his and Kuroo’s relationship but there’s still something knowing in their eyes, a subtle look that becomes more obvious the more Kenma notices it, and it follows Kenma all the way to his and Kuroo’s door, their words echoing around in his head long after Kai, Yaku and Fukunaga disappear into their rooms. 

****

Time goes on in much the same way it always does. 

Kenma goes to sleep every night and wakes up to a new day. Anything could happen between the time he first opens his eyes in the morning and the last time he closes them at night. Everything and nothing could happen and yet time moves forward resolutely, never stopping, never waiting, never lagging behind. 

In a way, Kenma is grateful that time is constantly in motion. It means that at least one thing is moving forward, even if it isn’t him.

And when time moves forward, Kenma has no choice but to go with it. It’s useless to grapple against it, he’s learned, and one other comfort he’s come to appreciate about time’s eternal march is how the distance between the present and the past widens the farther time walks ahead.

So Kenma welcomes the change. He welcomes each new day, each new sunrise and sunset with a newfound appreciation that he never had before. Because with each new day, the memory of the break-up grows ever more distant, more blurry, more unreal, and the less Kenma gets reminded of Kuroo, the better.

It’s not exactly the most ideal way to cope, he knows, but he likes to think that he’s handling it better than most, especially for someone who’s never had a break-up with anyone before this one. He never really forgets either. It’s always somehow at the back of his mind, in the deep dark recesses along with that embarrassing thing he did in middle school and most of his memories from before he turned twenty. 

But isn’t that what moving on is all about? Never really forgetting, just putting it out of your mind and simply putting one foot in front of the other every day till the pain feels far away, till it’s nothing more than a distant memory that he need not even recall or think about when he doesn’t want to.

And so Kenma marches on and slowly but surely, he doesn’t think about Kuroo as much anymore. He doesn’t get reminded of him at every turn and corner. He doesn’t catch himself staring at Kuroo’s contact info (that he can’t bring himself to delete from his phone for some reason) or wondering what he could be doing at that very moment. He doesn’t spend hours lying awake in bed wondering about the past and other possibilities had things gone differently. 

Slowly, the Kuroo-shaped hole in his life gets filled with other things. Work, video games, food, whatever he can find to stop himself from tripping as much as he can. And it works, for the most part at least.

Despite all the months in between, Kenma hasn’t told anyone about what happened between him and Kuroo.

Not anyone from Nekoma, not Shouyo, least of all his parents.

He’s not sure if Kuroo’s told anyone yet, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he has, but he doesn’t think he wants to find out if he has. He doesn’t realize till after the breakup just how many mutual friends he and Kuroo have. In fact, there’s no friend of Kenma’s that Kuroo’s never met or talked to before, except perhaps for a couple friends he met in college but Kenma never really considered them close friends, at least not as close as he and the old Nekoma team had been. 

He wishes that ending a relationship didn’t mean he had to sacrifice his friendships as well but whether it’s just paranoia or an actual valid fear, Kenma still doesn’t want to try his luck.

And perhaps there is one other reason why he hesitates to tell any of his friends about it.

When it’s just him and Kuroo, it seems smaller somehow. When it’s an idea shared between the two of them alone, it feels less real, feels less like it could affect the world around them. The idea is trapped in a place that only the both of them used to inhabit, that only they could enter. Telling other people feels like betraying that sacred place, even if it doesn’t exist for the two of them anymore. Because suddenly, the idea grows beyond its original scope, expands to encompass more than just the two of them, reaching its fingers out to the rest of the world and becoming more and more real and solid the more people know about it.

Saying it makes it makes it feel more real, and despite how much time passes, that’s something that Kenma still can’t seem to wrap his head around. 

One step forward, two steps back. 

One way or another, he is moving forward, but something continues to hold him back all the same.

In the months following the break-up, Kenma expects something to happen. He expects someone from Nekoma to call him up, or even show up on his doorstep. An unusually grim-faced Yamamoto, or probably Kai and Yaku, there to tell him that they heard all about it from Kuroo and want to hear his side, or just cut all ties with him altogether. It seems unreasonable if he really thinks hard about it, but the fear won’t leave him all the same; like a persistent itch that wanes but never disappears no matter how much or how long he scratches it.

But whatever messages he receives from the team are nothing of the sort. 

The messages, when they do come, are warm and friendly, funny and oblivious. They’re mostly memes, sometimes genuine check-ups on how he’s doing and what he’s been up to, the occasional congratulatory messages for a company or channel milestone, and at least once every month or two, an invitation to go out for lunch or dinner or just to hang out.

They always ask about Kuroo. They always have to add a quick “btw how is kuroo” in there but it’s not something too personal. It isn’t a question that Kenma can’t lie through. Usually, a simple “fine” would suffice and he’s lucky that none of their friends are the type who want to hear every single dirty detail, nor would he be the type to share.

It gets him uncomfortably close to thinking about Kuroo whenever his friends ask about him, but it does tell him one thing.

For whatever reason, Kuroo hasn’t told them. And if Kuroo doesn’t want to tell them, then neither will he.

Kenma gets a message from Yamamoto one day, telling him that he’s in town for a short while and asking if he wants to meet up for a quick get-together between their old teammates. He’s invited Inuoka, Shibayama and Fukunaga. Oh and Kuroo as well, he adds in a later message.

Kenma tells him that he’ll check his schedule before he proceeds to ignore Yamamoto’s message for the rest of the week, till it’s a day before the date and Kenma still hasn’t confirmed whether he’s going or not. 

In a panic, Kenma asks Yamamoto if Kuroo’s going and he receives a reply almost immediately after.

yeah kuroo’s coming.

thought you two would coordinate or something.

ah.

no we didn’t coordinate.

haven’t been able to see him lately.

tell him sorry then cause i can’t make it.

sorry too tora.

aw all right.

i’ll let everyone else know.

see you next time?

yeah.

next time.

Kenma isn’t sure when or if there’s going to be a next time but he puts it out of his mind for now and tucks his phone away under his pillow. He can’t help the rising feeling of guilt. He does want to see Yamamoto, and Inuoka, and Shibayama again. He feels like it’s been forever since he saw them last. 

But the last person on earth that he wants to see is Kuroo and he doesn’t trust himself enough even at this stage to act like everything’s normal between them. Or even worse, pretend that he and Kuroo are still best friends, if not lovers. Not after the way things had ended.

So Kenma manages to weasel his way out of what would have inevitably been an awkward altercation with Kuroo. And it won’t be the last.

More invitations come and go over time. From Yamamoto, from Lev and Yaku, from Kai, from Inuoka, even occasionally from Hinata or Bokuto when both of them happen to be in town. And everytime Kenma learns that Kuroo’s invited or is going, he bails at the last minute or uses up the age-old excuse of work or simply tells his friends that he’s not up to it. Luckily for him, his friends don’t push it, knowing how much of an introvert he is, and that’s how Kenma once again weasels his way out of numerous awkward encounters with Kuroo.

It’s not like Kenma turns every invitation down. Even he has days where he misses his friends so much that it aches and it provides some much-needed respite and recovery from long days of work. He’s simply more careful this time, more cautious. 

He learns to watch every word that leaves his mouth, learns to school his expression into neutrality at just the right moments, learns what to say to get even the most inquisitive of minds off his case when they start asking questions too close to home. Soon, it becomes second nature, as easy as memorizing the buttons on a controller or grinding endlessly through a level to get a rare item or material. Sometimes, Kenma doesn’t even need to think about it, blurting out whatever excuse pops up in his head in the moment without even wondering if he’s used that same excuse countless times before or if it would even work.

But there’s a side effect to this newfound skill that Kenma can’t get rid of. With every half-hearted smile, every half-thought out excuse, he feels more and more like an imposter. Like one day, his friends are going to pick up on it and expose him as the liar that he is. Even at times when Kuroo isn’t around, Kenma feels a sort of dread creeping up on him, as if someone were watching him from around street corners and dark alleyways. It isn’t a pleasant feeling, lying to his friend’s faces, and perhaps what’s worse is that they believe him. For the most part. He can always see a hint of skepticism in Yaku and even Kai’s eyes, a single fleeting moment of disbelief before it disappears and they act the way they always have. But the rest eat it up like children with candy, not questioning it nor even seeming to suspect that anything is amiss. 

Kenma is grateful for it of course but that doesn’t stop him from feeling guilty about it all the same. It’s always there whenever he goes to those gatherings. Sometimes he can forget that it’s there for a moment, lose himself in the food and the drinks and the laughter and the good company, but it always comes back sooner or later and when it does, Kenma wonders just how long he can keep this up.

But no matter how much he feels bad about all the lying and the pretending, he doesn’t want to know what’ll happen if he ever runs into Kuroo like this. He doesn’t want to subject himself or his friends to that kind of torture and anyways, his friends don’t even seem to know that they broke up. And for now, Kenma thinks, it might be better this way.

Not just for him but for his friends. And maybe, for Kuroo too. 

After all, what could be worse than having to pick sides in a war between friends, even if that war has long since ended?

So Kenma tells himself that he’s doing this for his friends, that he’s only sparing them from lots of awkward future meet-ups and reunions, and not because he’s scared of seeing Kuroo in the flesh for the first time since they broke up, that he’s scared of seeing the look in his eyes if they ever do, of perhaps seeing hatred and hostility where once there had been fondness and love and in that moment be confronted with the cold harsh truth of just how much has changed between them.

It’s almost like a game to Kenma, one that he and Kuroo can never seem to stop playing. It’s like walking into a boss fight thinking it would be the last one only to realize, as soon as you beat them, that there’s a bigger and tougher boss waiting for you, only that boss isn’t the last one either and you’ve used up all your good items in that last fight and now the game is just much much longer than you thought.

Even for this long, Kenma still can’t see the end in sight. No final dungeon, no obvious buildup in the music or the story telling you you’re going in the right direction. Just one endless crawl forward, dodging the final boss fight over and over again, feeling like he’s only delaying the inevitable.

And deep in his gut, Kenma knows he can’t avoid Kuroo forever.

Inevitably, there’s going to be one moment, one blessed day, when it all comes back to bite him in the ass and he’ll find that he can’t keep giving excuses like this forever. One day, as if a god is keeping track of all his little white lies and just planning for all the days when they’ll backfire, Kenma’s going to arrive at a point where avoiding Kuroo is going to be impossible. One day, he’s going to see Kuroo again and it won’t matter whether or not he’s ready to see him yet because he’s just going to have to be ready.

Time isn’t going to wait for him, he knows, but the very least it can do is warn him.

But time has also always been his most stalwart ally and it's months before Kenma hears even a mention of Kuroo from his friends. It doesn’t strike him as odd at first, that nobody’s been asking him about Kuroo for a while, but he gives it the benefit of the doubt and counts himself lucky that he hasn’t thought about Kuroo in a while, at least until someone brings him up. Granted, it could just be because he and his friends haven’t contacted each other in a while but he’ll take every silver lining that he sees.

So when Lev and Yaku arrive in Tokyo one day and ask him if he wants to grab lunch with them, Kenma doesn’t hesitate anymore. Yaku makes it very clear in his message that they’ve only invited him and Kenma is glad for once that it’s not going to be the whole team this time, especially since Lev already counts as three people by himself.

They meet at the ramen place that opened near Nekoma in Kenma’s third year, the one that quickly became Lev’s favorite and where he apparently took Yaku on dates a couple of times. It’s just as Kenma remembers it. Maybe with a few upgrades, like the pristine new bar or the new upholstery on the chairs, but still the way he remembers it the last time he was here. 

Lev and Yaku are still the same as well, always bickering, always looking like they’re one second away from either hitting each other or making out in public. Lev’s stature, his handsome features and also the fact that fashion ads with his face on them are plastered all over Tokyo make him stand out among the regular patrons of this tiny ramen-ya. In contrast, despite the flashy dark sunglasses that he’s taken to wearing practically everywhere and the sleek hairstyle that he’s maintained after college, Yaku appears not to stand out at all, a fact that he can’t seem to decide whether to feel relieved or disappointed at.

“You look like a yakuza, Yaku-san,” Kenma comments by way of a greeting, making his way towards them at the bar. “Yakuza Morisuke,” he adds as soon as he thinks of the name, smiling to himself. 

“Kenma-san!” Lev’s whole face lights up the moment he sees Kenma and it’s infectious enough that even Kenma feels himself wanting to smile. “So good to see you again!”

“Saved ya a seat.” Yaku pats the single stool in between them. “Figured we’d give you the place of honor.”

“Ugh, in between you two lovebirds?” Kenma groans but slides onto the seat anyway.

It’s easier than he expected to get lost in conversation with Yaku and Lev. They talk about Lev’s modeling jobs, Yaku’s matches in Russia, the video games that Kenma’s been playing recently. Contrary to what he’s come to expect when they start talking about work, Kenma doesn’t find himself growing bored or tired. In fact, he listens to Lev’s stories with a rapt sort of attention that he rarely gives to someone like Lev and he pokes fun at Yaku as Yaku recounts his first few weeks in Russia, getting used to the language and the culture and the fact that he had to look up every time he spoke to anyone there. 

Coupled with the warm ramen in his belly and the strangely sweet beer that Yaku ordered for him, Kenma loses track of time in a way he hasn’t in a long while. Well, at least, in a way he hasn’t with his friends. In those nerve-racking, belly-aching, guilt-ridden meet-ups before, Kenma almost always found himself counting down the hours, waiting for the right time to excuse himself and leave before he either got too drunk or too sad or both. But here, when it’s just him and Yaku and Lev in a cramped ramen-ya with too many people and too little seating, Kenma finds that it’s easier to relax, let go and just let himself be. 

“By the way, Kenma-san!”

“Hm?” Kenma looks up from his bowl. He chews on his noodles a bit more before he swallows. “Yeah?”

“Did something happen with you and Kuroo-san?” Lev asks bluntly, eyes wide and curious. Kenma hears Yaku choke on his noodles distantly as he freezes up at the mention of Kuroo’s name, chopsticks dropping out of his slack hand. 

“I haven’t seen you two in the same room in a long time,” Lev continues as if he were talking about the weather. “It’s like, whenever you’re around, Kuroo-san isn’t there. And whenever Kuroo-san’s around, you’re not there. Did you two have a fight or something?”

Kenma’s mouth goes as dry as a desert and his fingers fumble as he picks up his chopsticks again. 

“Kenma-san?” Lev is looking at him in concern, eyebrows knit together. “Are you okay?”

“Idiot!” Without warning, Yaku smacks Lev upside on the head before he turns his worried look towards Kenma. “Don’t listen to him, Kenma. I’m sure he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Stop asking personal questions out of nowhere, Lev!” Yaku adds in a harsher tone.

Lev pouts as he rubs at the sore spot on his head. “But you’re thinking it too, Yaku-san, I know you are! I can’t be the only one who thinks it’s weird that we don’t see Kuroo-san and Kenma-san together anymore!”

Perhaps unintentionally, Yaku meets Kenma’s eyes at that exact moment and he can’t hide his guilty look in time. He clears his throat loudly and glares at Lev. “You never know when to shut up, do you?”

Lev frowns, his cheeks full like a squirrel’s. “What do you mean? What did I say?”

Yaku rolls his eyes. “Things you aren’t supposed to say in front of other people, Lev!”

Lev’s eyes widen and he stares at Kenma. “Kenma-san, does that mean that you and Kuroo-san一”

“Stop right there!” Yaku holds up a hand and Lev falls silent. “Not another word or else you’re just going to make this even worse than it already is. Now apologize to Kenma.”

Lev pouts. “Sorry, Kenma-san,” he murmurs, and to his credit he does manage to seem apologetic before he turns to his bowl of ramen, sipping the broth moodily.

“You didn’t have to be so harsh,” Kenma says with a small half-hearted laugh but Yaku only rolls his eyes and waves his hand dismissively. “He’ll live.” 

There’s a long pause before Yaku coughs awkwardly into his hand and turns to face Kenma. “Hey,” he says, fixing Kenma with a serious gaze. “Sorry about that, Kenma. You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. I know it’s really personal and it’s none of our business what goes on between you and Kuroo.”

Kenma nods, picking at the noodles in his ramen, his appetite suddenly gone. “It’s okay. I guess we’ve given you reason to be suspicious.”

Yaku nods, almost solemn. “Whatever it is you two are going through, you know you can always confide in us, right?”

Kenma turns and frowns at Yaku who clears his throat once more and looks away. “Kuroo won’t exactly talk to me or Kai about anything lately. Weird, especially since he’d always come whining to us back then when he thought his crush on you was unrequited.”

Yaku chuckles and Kenma forces a smile. “Yaku-san, it’s okay. I一”

“I’m sure whatever it is you and Kuroo are going through isn’t anything serious,” Yaku continues. “Knowing you two, your fights never last that long. I mean, all those times Lev mentioned, about you two never being in the same room, it’s probably all just bad timing, right?”

Kenma clenches his fist on his lap, hidden from Yaku’s view. He takes a deep breath and nods. “Yeah. Just bad timing.”

Kenma’s sure he can feel Yaku’s stare even from a yard away but he focuses on his half-finished ramen, intent on not dwelling on the conversation and certainly trying not to think about the sudden emptiness in his chest. 

They sit and talk for a while after that about much less serious things. Lev, in his own way, makes up for his earlier question by trying to lighten the mood and get Kenma to laugh at all the ridiculous events that seem to follow him wherever he goes. It works, for the most part, and Kenma feels a lot better when they leave the ramen-ya and part ways at the train station, Lev off to the hotel to meet with his agent about his most recent job, the only reason he’s even in Tokyo in the first place, and Yaku to practice with his “teammates,” though Kenma’s pretty sure he doesn’t mean the ones in the Russian league but his new ones on the national team, though he doesn’t want to take away Yaku’s opportunity to tell everyone else about the news himself so he shuts up about it for the meantime.

Kenma smiles and waves at his friends before he turns his back on them and walks right out of the train station. He’s not sure how long he spends walking the streets of Tokyo, trying to clear his head as much as possible. 

His feet take him through crowds and empty side streets, down stone pavements and across concrete roads, passing underneath the endless archways of telephone wires and water towers, past neat neighbourhoods where dogs bark at him from behind iron fences and cats doze on the top of crumbling cement walls. 

He watches street lamps flicker on one by one, sees the diners and restaurants along the avenues fill up with people as the dinner rush begins, tries not to make eye contact with every student or young person that stops and stares at him like they’re trying to place where they’ve seen him before.

Time wears on like it always does and Kenma doesn’t even know what time it is before his feet finally grow tired and he takes the train home, nearly falling asleep on his feet with his head in the crook of his elbow, hand clutching the grab handle hanging from the ceiling in front of him. 

He eats whatever leftovers are left in his fridge before he goes to bed earlier that night than usual, feeling so exhausted all of a sudden. 

But he closes his eyes and lets himself drift. He thinks that this time tomorrow will be different. A different time. A different place. Maybe even a different him.

He just has to go through the motions again. 

One more sunrise.

One more sunset.

One more step away from the past, little by little, till there’s nothing to blame but the bad timing. 

Chapter Text

“Kai and Yaku know.”

As soon as Kenma barges into the room without warning, Kuroo scrambles from where he reclines on the bed, nearly dropping his phone and the TV remote in his hands before he looks at Kenma with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”

Kenma scowls at him before he sits at the edge of the bed with a sigh. “I mean, Kai and Yaku know that we’re faking it.”

Kuroo stays where he is for a long moment before he’s at Kenma’s side in a matter of seconds. He’s not close enough to be uncomfortable but near enough that Kenma can feel his presence without having to look. “How do you know?” he asks, tone gentle. “Did they tell you?”

Kenma shakes his head. 

“Then what makes you think that they know?”

“They…” Kenma trails off before he sighs exasperatedly. “I just know it. They keep asking me about what’s going on between us, saying that they’re worried, but I know they’re trying to find something out. They...They know that something is wrong.”

Kuroo hums. “Well, look at it this way. They didn’t seem like they were going to rat us out, did they?”

“Well...no? At least, I hope not.”

Kuroo claps Kenma on the back. “Then what are you so worried about? As long as they don’t tell anyone else, we’re still good, right?”

Kenma grimaces. “I’m not sure I want them to know either way.”

“Well.” Kuroo shrugs. “What can we do about it if they really do know?”

“Should we…” Kenma’s almost afraid to say it. “Should we just...tell everybody…?”

Kuroo frowns. “Why should we?”

“I don’t know!” Kenma throws his hands up in the air in frustration. “I can’t think of anything else! It’s just...I keep thinking about if Kai and Yaku do know this is all just an act, then aren’t we just making fools out of ourselves in front of them?”

Kuroo gives one bark of laughter. “ That’s what you’re worried about? We came all this way on this plan of yours and now you’re worried about making a fool of ourselves?”

Kenma turns his head to glare at Kuroo. “I don’t know, okay! I just...I know everyone suspects but that’s all it is. Suspicions. But with Kai and Yaku, it’s different. They know . It’s not a suspicion anymore, it’s a certainty. I know I can’t prove it but I just know in my gut that一”

“Kenma.”

Kuroo’s tone is calm yet firm. He lays a heavy hand over Kenma’s and only then does Kenma realize that his hands are trembling on his lap. He looks up to meet Kuroo’s gaze. “Kuro?”

“First of all, you need to calm down,” Kuroo says. “I know it’s easier said than done, but we’re not going to solve anything by fretting over this. Now, you can’t prove that Kai and Yaku don’t know. Not yet at least. But you can’t prove that they do either.”

Kenma sighs and opens his mouth to speak but Kuroo holds a hand up to silence him. Kenma purses his lips.

“Even if Kai and Yaku know,” Kuroo continues calmly, “I don’t think that they’d tell anyone. It’s not like them to tell everyone else without first talking to one or both of us. Trust me, I know them. Plus they’d never try to talk about something like that at a time or place like this.”

Kenma sighs and nods his head. He feels whatever panic and anxiety building up in his stomach start to die down and disappear. “Okay.”

Kuroo smiles and squeezes his hand. “Think of it this way. That’s two people out of dozens in this entire building who potentially know about us, and even then, they don’t know for certain. Besides, all they know is that something is up. They don’t know everything and I don’t think they’d act the way you think they might.”

Kenma nods, staring down at his clenched hands. “Yeah. You’re right.”

Kuroo smiles. “See? Let’s just stick to our plan and wait and see what happens. Now come on, it’s nearly time. We should be getting ready.”

“But…” Kenma begins again. He hesitates for a second before he sees Kuroo’s expression, urging him to continue, and he speaks again, “say that they do know. Shouldn’t we still do something…?”

Kuroo sighs and shrugs his shoulders. “If they know, they know. It’s as simple as that. Nothing we can really do to convince them otherwise once they’re certain of something.”

“Then what can we do to convince them?”

Kuroo smiles and lays a hand on Kenma’s shoulder, letting it linger there for longer than Kenma thinks it should be. “We stick to our plan and wait and see what happens. Isn’t that what this whole thing is for?”

Kenma meets Kuroo’s eyes for the briefest moment before he looks away and gives a small nod. “Yeah. Okay.”

Kuroo sighs and lifts his hand from Kenma’s shoulder and stretches his arms. “Okay. Now that that’s out of the way, we really should be getting dressed now.” He stands and makes his way to the bathroom.

Kenma isn’t sure whether to say it. The words swim around in his brain like sharks in a tank before they clog his throat, threatening to burst if he doesn’t say it out loud anytime soon. 

“There’s something else that’s been bothering me.” Kenma hears Kuroo stop and he knows he’s looking at him now but Kenma can’t bring himself to meet his gaze.

“Hm? What is it?”

“Back then...Three years ago, ever since we broke up...Have you...Were you avoiding me?”

Kuroo is silent. Kenma almost wishes he had never said anything. Who cares if his throat burst out or if the sharks ate him up from the inside? 

“What gave you that impression?” Kuroo’s voice is low and careful.

Kenma shrugs. “It’s just something Lev told me before, and what Yaku told me just earlier. That they haven’t seen us in the same room till now. That we never go to the same parties or get-togethers. That one of us just isn’t around whenever the other is.”

Kuroo hums and Kenma can tell that he’s trying to keep it casual. It’s in the telltale conversational tone of his voice and the way he busies himself with his garment bag, as if they were talking about the most inconsequential things, like the weather or the most recent V. League season. “Isn’t that all just bad timing though?”

“That’s what I keep telling them.” And myself.

“Probably just a coincidence.”

Kenma scowls down at his hands, twisting themselves into new shapes on his lap. “No it’s not.” His voice comes out harder, rougher even. “If it was, we’d have seen each other sooner after the breakup. You were avoiding me, weren’t you?” 

Kuroo shrugs. “And what’s so weird about that? You were avoiding me too. Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

He doesn’t know why he wants to argue about this here and now, especially when arguing isn’t what they’re supposed to be doing. Kenma is the least confrontational person he knows. He shrinks at the smallest sign of conflict, the barest hint of a threat or the subtle rise in someone else’s voice. But for some reason, something about Kuroo’s casual tone is setting him off. He sounds like it doesn’t matter to him at all. Kenma doesn’t even know why it matters so much to him all of a sudden. 

“Well can you blame me?” Kenma bites back. “You think I wanted to see my ex so soon after it ended?”

Kuroo turns to look at him, expression blank. “Do you think I wanted to?”

Kenma purses his lips and turns away from him. “So you were avoiding me.”

Kuroo scoffs and for the first time, Kenma detects a note of impatience. “So what if I was? What difference does it make now?”

Kenma’s shoulders tense. “I just...I guess一”

“I just don’t understand why you’re so angry about me avoiding you when you’re guilty of doing the same thing,” Kuroo interrupts.

“I’m not angry.” But he does feel awfully upset about this. Kenma isn’t quite sure why either. It’s one thing when he avoids Kuroo but Kuroo doing the same to him seems unthinkable.

“What, did you want me to not avoid you?” Kuroo asks. “Would that have made you feel better?”

Kenma sighs. “I don’t know. But it certainly would have made things a lot easier now.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, maybe if we hadn’t avoided each other for the past four years, we could have made this act more convincing.”

Kuroo raises his eyebrows and scoffs. “Wow. And how was I supposed to know? How were any of us supposed to know that in four years, we’d be here, pretending that we’re still together?”

Kenma glares at Kuroo. “I’m just saying, the both of us avoiding each other for the past four years makes things a little too obvious, don’t you think? We don’t even have an excuse when someone points it out. It’s too...contrived. Blaming it all on ‘bad timing’ can only get us so far.”

Kuroo places his hands on his hips and stares down at the floor. When he speaks, his tone is measured, as if he’s trying to suppress his anger. “So what you’re saying is, it’s my fault for avoiding you?”

“That’s not what I—“

“It’s my fault that our friends see a pattern? It’s my fault that Kai and Yaku know? That it’s my fault—“

“That’s not what I’m saying!” Kenma rises from his seat with his hands clenched at his side. 

Kuroo smiles, bitter and wry. “You didn’t have to say it,” he says softly.

Kenma tries to swallow past the lump in his throat but finds that he can’t even breathe. He opens his mouth, whether to take in as much air as he can or because he has something to say, he can’t tell. But before he can even decide, his phone rings loudly from where it lies on the bed.

Kenma turns his back on Kuroo and picks it up to answer without even looking at who it could be. “Hello?” he says shakily.

“Ah, Kenma?” comes Hinata’s voice. “Hey!”

“Shouyo,” Kenma says, a bit surprised. “What’s this all about?”

Hinata gives a nervous laugh. “Ah, well, you see...You’re at the hotel right now, right?”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, well, of course you are! Haha...A-Anyways, I was wondering if you could, uhh...come see me for a bit, before the reception?”

Kenma frowns. “Is something wrong?”

“No! No, no. Everything’s fine. I just...I need someone to talk to.”

“Okay,” Kenma replies without hesitation. Anything to get away from here. “Where’s your room?”

“Wait, really?” Hinata says in disbelief. “I-I mean, uhh, room 408! I’ll be waiting.”

“Be there in a few,” Kenma says before he hangs up. He hesitates for a second before he turns around to look at Kuroo who remains standing exactly where he is.

“It’s Shouyo,” Kenma says. “He wants me to go see him.”

Kuroo nods, eyes downcast. “Then you should go.”

Kenma nods dumbly. “Okay.”

He makes his way to the door before Kuroo’s hand closes around his arm and pulls him back. Kenma stops and stares at Kuroo wide-eyed. “Kuro?”

There’s a lost look in Kuroo’s eyes, full of uncertainty and remorse. He swallows thickly. “Kenma.”

Kenma nods, urging him to continue.

Kuroo stares at him for a long time, lips parted, eyes searching for something over Kenma’s face. Then, he sighs and draws back. “Say hi to Shrimpy for me.”

Kenma pauses, nods then turns and leaves without another word. 

 ****

“Kenma!”

No sooner had Kenma knocked then the door to room 408 is thrown wide open and Hinata greets him on the other side, his arms wide open. He’s enveloped in a huge warm hug before he can get a word in, and he smiles as he hugs Hinata back. “Hey, Shouyo.”

“Come in!” Hinata draws back and grins at him before he steps back to allow Kenma to enter. 

“I see you’re already dressed,” Kenma notes, taking in the neat suit and tie that Hinata’s in.

Hinata grins. “Gotta be the most prepared, right?”

“Sure.” Kenma walks over to the bed and sits down with a sigh. “So? Did it happen?”

Kenma didn’t think it was possible for Hinata’s grin to grow wider but it does and his face glows like the sun he’s named after. “Yep! You can call me Kageyama Shouyo now!”

Kenma smiles. “Then let me be the first to tell you guys congratulations.”

“Actually, Miwa nee-san congratulated us first, but that’s not my point!” Hinata rushes over to sit beside Kenma and he can’t seem to contain the pure unbridled happiness that pours out of him in waves. “Kenma, I-I didn’t think I would find anything that would make me happier than when I played against Kageyama in the Jackals and Adlers match but it turns out, being married to him is even better!”

“I’m happy for you guys. And I’m sure Kageyama feels the same way you do.”

Hinata laughs and actually blushes. “Thanks. I honestly still can’t believe it myself.” He lifts his arm out in front of him and spreads his fingers, showing off his shiny gold wedding ring. “I’m married now.”

Kenma smiles one of his rare genuine smiles as he bumps his shoulder against Hinata’s. “Yeah you are.”

Hinata giggles like a little kid. “I’m married now!”

His laughter is too contagious that even Kenma can’t resist. “Yep. You are.”

After Hinata’s giggles die down, he rests his head on Kenma’s shoulder, the most content smile on his face. “This is the happiest I’ve ever been in my whole life.”

Kenma nods and leans against Hinata. They stay that way for a moment, neither wanting to prematurely break this perfect comfortable silence.

“So,” Kenma says softly, “what did you call me here for?”

Hinata chuckles. “I was kind of hoping you’d forget about that.”

“Come on, you called me for a reason.” Kenma nudges him with his shoulder. “You could have called your tall glasses dude, or your pinch server Yama or whatever, or your old club manager. But you called me.”

Hinata lifts his head. “Yeah. I called you.”

“So? Haven’t got all day. Not sure if you know but I’ve got a reception to go to later and I’d rather not be late. It’s for a very important friend.”

Hinata chuckles. “Of course. Wouldn’t want to take too much of your time.” He straightens up in his seat and sighs. “It’s still sinking in, you know. I’m still trying to wrap my head around it.”

“Well you can take all the time you need,” Kenma says. “But you know the world isn’t going to wait for you, so you might as well hurry it up.”

Hinata nods. “I know. It’s just...Nobody outside of our immediate family, and, well, except you now, sees us as a married couple yet. But once we both get out there, in front of the rest of our family and friends, then it’ll be real.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Nervous?” Hinata laughs sardonically. “I’m terrified. From now on, everything’s going to change, in ways we don’t know. Doesn’t that just scare you?”

Kenma scoffs. “It’s nothing that you can’t handle. Things change all the time.”

“But not this much,” Hinata says. “Look. Yesterday, I was still single. Well, officially, you know, in records and stuff. Then boom! Suddenly I’m married. And to Kageyama of all people! Can you believe that?”

“Actually I can. You and Kageyama complete each other in ways nobody can really explain. No one else can seem to understand your sound effects as well as he does.”

Hinata scowls. “Come on Kenma, I’m being serious here.”

Kenma chuckles. “Okay. Sorry for trying to lighten the mood a bit.”

Hinata waves his hand around vaguely. “I just...I think about how things aren’t going to be the same anymore and I just get so...so scared? Don’t get me wrong, I signed up for this. I...I love him. I really do. And I trust him. But you know, I just can’t help but feel this way. Like...what’s going to happen now? How do we adjust for this? What do I do if I tell him that I want a dog but he’s not ready for that responsibility yet?”

Hinata stares at him, long and expectant. 

Kenma blinks. “Uh. You一 You want my advice? Is that it?”

Hinata sighs. “Ideally, yeah, I was hoping you would be able to help me. I mean, you and Kuroo-san have been together for, like, most of your life, right? I figured that if someone could help me, it would be you.”

Kenma opens his mouth then closes it again. “I-I’m not sure I’m the most qualified person here.”

Hinata rolls his eyes. “What are you talking about? Of course you are! Keeping up a relationship for as long as you have? Come on, there has to be some secret trick.”

Kenma grimaces. He wants to tell Hinata that he has not, in fact, ‘kept up a relationship’ for as long as Hinata thinks he has but he swallows it down instead and says , “There’s really no secret. If you think there’s some kind of magic trick that’ll make all your problems disappear, then that’s your first mistake.”

Hinata’s expression turns serious and he nods vigorously. “Yeah? Keep going.”

Kenma shakes his head. “Okay look, I’m not sure what it is exactly that you want to hear. I-I don’t know what I can say to make you feel better or一”

“Oh come on!” Hinata whines. “Kenma, I can’t think of anyone else who can give me better advice than you.”

Kenma takes one look at the earnest expression on Hinata’s face and feels his resolve crumble like sand. He sighs and nods. “Okay okay, fine.”

“You’re the best, Kenma!” Hinata throws his arms around him. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”

“Okay okay.” Despite the tone of his voice, Kenma smiles as he attempts to push Hinata off. “Just give me a moment to compose my thoughts here.”

“Oh of course, of course!” Hinata peels himself off Kenma and sits there like an eager dog awaiting a treat. “Well? Hit me with your wisdom, Great Master Kenma!”

“Okay, well…” Kenma closes his eyes and tries to think of something to say, anything. If he were talking to anyone else, he would have given the first bullshit answer that popped into his head but this is Hinata he’s talking to. One of his closest friends. And this actually sounds like a big problem to him. Kenma would be lying if he said that he didn’t understand where Hinata is coming from. It’s a familiar fear, one that Kenma’s not sure he ever really got over, and it’s already hard enough to deny a request from Hinata, especially when he looks at him with eyes that could shoot sunbeams out of them.

“I...I guess I was scared too,” Kenma begins and Hinata inches closer to him intently. “When I realized that I felt that way about my best friend, I was really scared. I didn’t even know if he felt the same way. I was so sure for a long time that these feelings were never going to go anywhere and I was so ready to give up on them at any time. And then, to my surprise, he did feel the same way. I was relieved and I was happy, of course. But then I was scared too. Because suddenly, things were changing right in front of me and I couldn’t keep up.”

Hinata scoffs. “I know how that feels.”

Kenma smiles wryly. “Yeah. It...wasn’t fun. I was overthinking more than I usually do and I couldn’t stop worrying about the future. I didn’t doubt mine or Kuroo’s feelings at all but...I still felt uneasy.”

Kenma pauses. Hinata is still listening to him closely but he’s hesitant to let his next words out. He can already feel the blush on his cheeks rising, but he’s made it this far, and if it’s for Hinata, he supposes that he can do it. At least as long as nothing that he says within this room ever leaves it.

“But you know...whenever I was with Kuro, no matter what we were doing, it all just kind of...fell away. Suddenly, I wasn’t so scared anymore. I felt like we could take on the world, like we could be thrown into hell and we’d still stand a chance. It sounds super fake and corny, but...the truth is, being with Kuroo helped me get my head straight, realize that I was worrying over things that haven’t even happened yet. Rather than being scared about what’s to come, Kuro made me want to live in the present and appreciate what I have while it’s there. Of course, the fear never goes away, and Kuroo admits that he was scared too. But in the end, I guess, as long as I have him with me every step of the way, I feel like I can face anything.”

There’s a long silence wherein Kenma contemplates and processes what he’s just said. Hinata breathes in deeply and pats Kenma on the shoulder. “Kenma,” he says solemnly. Then his face breaks out into a grin. “When did you get so sappy?”

As if right on cue, Kenma feels the heat flood his cheeks and he tries in vain to hide behind his curtain of hair. “Y-You asked for sappy love advice! I was only trying to help!” he splutters.

Hinata laughs and throws his arms around Kenma for another hug. “Aaw, don’t be embarrassed, Kenma! That was literally so poetic and perfect! You should have seen your face while you were giving me that whole speech.”

Kenma looks up at him in alarm. “What did my face look like?”

“You were smiling and everything! Kind of wistful, kind of content, very much in love, you know.”

Hinata’s words are enough to give Kenma pause. He sits up straighter and stares at Hinata as if he’s speaking a different language. “What?”

Hinata blinks. “What do you mean, what? It was written all over your face!”

Kenma shakes his head. “That can’t be right,” he mutters.

“What?”

“Nothing.” Kenma turns back to Hinata. “A-Anyways, did that help at all?”

Hinata smiles and nods his head sagely. “Yes. More than you probably think it did.”

Kenma nods. “Good.”

Hinata muffles a laugh into his hand. “You know, if you want an excuse to pop the question, I could convince Tobio to let me throw a bouquet or something. I’m sure we can find one somewhere. But I’ll aim it specifically at you. Or Kuroo-san, whatever, I’m not picky. Oh! I could make Tobio toss it like a volleyball and I could spike it at you guys to receive! Wouldn’t that be cool?”

Kenma narrows his eyes at him in confusion. “Why would you do that?”

Hinata rolls his eyes, as if Kenma isn’t seeing the most obvious thing in the world. “Duh, so you two can just get married already! I mean, looks like you two have everything all figured out. I don’t understand why either of you haven’t tried to propose yet.”

Kenma’s mind goes blank. All words seem to fail as his brain and his tongue short circuit. He can almost hear the blaring error tone going off in his head like a siren. It must show on his face because Hinata immediately looks more alarmed.

“K-Kenma? Are you okay?! Oh god, should I get an ambulance? Should I get Kuroo-san?”

“No!” Kenma grabs Hinata’s arms and Hinata freezes. “Don’t...Don’t get Kuro. Please.”

Hinata nods slowly. “O-Okay. I won’t.”

“Sorry.” Kenma lets go of Hinata’s arms and looks away. “I...blanked out for a moment. I forgot what we were even talking about.” He gives a hollow little laugh but it sounds so obviously fake.

Hinata laughs nervously. “Was it something I said? I’m sorry! I’ll watch my words next time.”

“No, no.” Kenma shakes his head and gives a half-hearted smile. “It’s not you, I promise. I’m just...feeling kind of out of it lately. Maybe I should go back to the room and rest up a bit before the event.”

“Oh.” Hinata blinks. “Sure. Of course.” He gets to his feet and offers his hand to Kenma who takes it and is pulled up to his feet. 

“Well, this was great.” Hinata grins. “Really.” He lowers his voice and he sounds softer and more sincere as he squeezes Kenma’s hand. “Thanks, Kenma. I really needed that.”

Kenma smiles, less forced than the last one. “No problem. Anything to help a friend.”

Hinata doesn’t let go of his hand and his eyes seem glued to his face. “Kenma,” he begins. “If there’s...anything you want to talk about, you know I can listen to you the way you just listened to me.”

Kenma is so ready to deflect the same way he deflected Kai and Yaku earlier; the same way he’s been deflecting everyone else. But for some reason, there’s something about the look in Hinata’s eyes, that pure, almost simple-minded honesty that compels Kenma to give nothing but that same honesty back to him. He can feel the truth at the very tip of his tongue, pressing against his teeth, waiting to be formed, like an impulse that won’t be suppressed or an itch that wants to be scratched. 

Just when Kenma thinks that he’s about to say it, just as finds the right words and they stand poised on his tongue, he swallows it all down and shakes his head. “No,” he tells Hinata. “I’m fine. Thanks though.”

Hinata frowns, looking unconvinced, but he shrugs and nods his head. “All right. Sorry for calling you down here on such short notice. I know you need to get ready for your friend’s big wedding reception.”

Kenma scoffs. “Yeah. Now I’m way behind schedule.”

Hinata chuckles before he pulls Kenma in for one more hug. “I’ll see you later?”

“Yeah.” Kenma pats Hinata on the back and with one last smile backwards, he leaves the room. 

Long after Hinata has closed the door behind him, Kenma remains standing in the hallway, his thoughts catching up to the frantic beating of his heart. It’s a familiar feeling. He’s felt this once before. In his room in his parents’ house, lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes, heart beating a mile a minute while his skin tingled where Kuroo had touched it earlier. His mind racing with thoughts of Kuroo’s smile and sly voice, trying to pinpoint the exact moment in time when he fell for him.

If Kenma really thinks about it, this moment isn’t any different from the last one, only this time, he recognizes it as soon as he feels it.

He’s always had his suspicions, knew deep down what this tingle underneath his skin is. But never has it been so clearly spelled out for him than when Hinata pointed it out.

“Kind of wistful, kind of content, very much in love.”

The walk back to their room feels long to Kenma, or maybe that’s just because he’s deliberately walking slower than he usually does. But eventually, he arrives in front of their door and after a moment’s hesitation, he enters. Kuroo is in the middle of putting on his tie in front of the mirror with an effortless ease that only wearing a tie everyday can give. He looks up at Kenma’s entrance, their eyes catching in the mirror and he looks far too good in his suit to be fair.

“Kenma. You, uh...You should probably get ready.”

Kenma stands there gaping like an idiot for one second too long before he closes the door behind him and nods wordlessly, grabbing his garment bag from where it hangs in the closet and retreating to the bathroom. 

He and Kuroo don’t exchange another word as they both get ready, shining their shoes, dabbing some cologne on, smoothing out the creases on their pressed suits. The air definitely feels tense, especially after how they left it, but Kenma doesn’t want to be the one to say anything. Especially since his mind is still reeling from his recent discovery and he’s not sure if he can look at Kuroo without combusting on the spot.

After about ten minutes or so getting into his suit and shoes, Kenma stands in front of the vanity mirror wondering what he should do with his hair. He could always tie it up or leave it down but both seem too casual for an occasion like this.

Kenma considers tying up half of his hair to make a kind of bun at the back but realizes that he can’t do this without help. Sighing, he turns to Kuroo. “Kuro,” he calls.

Kuroo looks up from where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, immaculate in a solid gray two piece suit with a bright red tie that matches Kenma’s own. “Yeah?”

“Could you...help me with my hair? Please.”

Kuroo blinks. “Uh. Sure.”

Kenma sits and watches from the mirror as Kuroo stands and walks over to stand behind him. He tries not to shiver as Kuroo’s fingers brush through the strands of his hair. “What were you thinking of doing with it again?”

Kenma shrugs. “I can’t remember anymore. A bun? Or just half up half down? 

Kuroo hums as he inspects Kenma’s hair this way and that. “Why don’t we braid it?”

Kenma raises his eyebrows. “That’s...actually not a bad idea.”

“Look, we can braid it and then do the half up thing you like.” Kuroo takes two sections from the front of Kenma’s hair and twists them behind his head. “Like some instagram influencer.”

Kenma scoffs and bats his hand. “Do you even know how to braid hair?”

Kuroo smirks. “‘Course I do. I have a sister.”

“Who I’m pretty sure you only got to see like twice a year and even then, she’s too old to have her hair braided by her little brother.”

“You underestimate my skill. Very well. We’ll see who gets the last laugh.”

Kenma hopes his smile isn’t too obvious in the mirror or that Kuroo’s too absorbed in his task to notice. But he’s glad that the previous tension seems to have all but dissipated. Kuroo works carefully and methodically, sometimes tugging a bit painfully, but never too hard. It’s almost soothing, the way he runs his fingers through Kenma’s hair, and Kenma feels as though he could drop off to sleep at this very moment if he were to close his eyes.

“Hey,” Kuroo speaks after a moment of silence. “I...I’m sorry about earlier. I shouldn’t have said what I said.”

Kenma would shake his head but he’s worried that  it would disturb Kuroo’s work. “Don’t be. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

“No,” Kuroo says insistently. “I shouldn’t have blamed you like that. It’s...not right. It’s not all your fault.”

Kenma is quiet for a moment before he gives one tiny nod. “It’s okay. I forgive you.”

“Look at us, fighting like we’re a real couple,” Kuroo says wryly.

“Yeah. We should be pretty used to it by now, I think.”

An expression that Kenma can only describe as conflicted passes over Kuroo’s face. “I don’t think we should be used to that though. Not anymore at least.”

Kenma looks down. “Yeah. You’re probably right.”

“We should have been better than that by now,” Kuroo continues, eyes still on Kenma’s hair. “So, I’m still going to apologize. But I’ll do it when you can look at me so you’ll know that I mean it.”

Kenma snorts. “You can just apologize right now. Look, I’m going to do it. I’m sorry.”

“Eh. Feels weird and insincere. Let me finish this up first and I’ll do it too.”

Kenma rolls his eyes but doesn’t protest, nor does he try to hide his smile this time.

“Aaaand...done!” Kuroo grins down at his handiwork before he snaps a picture of it with his phone. “Here. How does that look?”

He bends down to show his screen to Kenma and comes practically cheek to cheek with him. Kenma isn’t sure if he realizes it himself, so he doesn’t draw attention to the fact and just looks at Kuroo’s phone. 

The braids aren’t as elaborate as Kenma had expected. Two thin sections of his hair are done in fairly simple Dutch braids and meet at the center where Kuroo has somehow managed to tie them both into a knot without using any pins or hair ties, meeting and turning into one long braid. But while simple, it does look more polished and put together than what Kenma normally does with his hair and it doesn’t clash with the suit.

“Wow.” Kenma looks in the mirror and turns his head this way and that, trying to get every possible angle. “I’m impressed.”

Kuroo smirks. “And you doubted my braiding game.”

Kenma stands and turns to look at him. “I’m sorry.”

Kuroo blinks. “For doubting my braiding game or…?”

Kenma rolls his eyes. “For earlier, obviously. I never meant to blame you for that either. It was hypocritical of me and I know you had your reasons. So...there.”

Kuroo doesn’t say anything for a while before he nods. “Okay. Apology accepted.”

Kenma sighs, visibly releasing the tension in his shoulders. “I’m glad that’s out of the way.”

“Me too.” Kuroo tries for a genuine smile. “So what did Shrimpy want to talk to you about? Or are you not allowed to say?”

Kenma feels his throat go dry. “Nothing. Just wedding jitters or whatever. He needed some encouragement.”

“Ahh.” Kuroo nods as if he alone understands. “Of course. It’s a big thing, marriage. Even people like Shrimpy can feel nervous about it, it seems.”

“Yeah. I suppose.”

There’s a long moment of silence that’s eventually interrupted by Kuroo clearing his throat. “Uhh, we should probably get going soon. It’s nearly time.”

“Right.” Kenma nods and busies himself making last minute preparations around the room; Keeping his stuff away in his knapsack, unplugging his phone from where he left it charging by the bedside table, debating if he can covertly carry his Switch in his suit jacket. 

After Kuroo talks him out of bringing his Switch, (“It’s going to rumple the suit and ruin it and what is the point of ordering a custom-made suit if you’re only going to ruin it?”) he and Kuroo make their way to the door. 

“You ready?” Kuroo asks one final time and Kenma nods.

He can feel Kuroo still staring at him and he frowns. “What? Is there something on my face?”

Kuroo smiles, small and secretive. “Nothing. You look good.”

Kenma feels himself blush before he looks away. “Thanks. Y-You do too.”

“This is kind of like the point of no return, isn’t it?” Kuroo says. 

“Like there’s no save point beyond this,” Kenma adds.

Kuroo chuckles. “That’s definitely a metaphor you’d use.” He pauses. “You sure you can keep this up till the after-party?”

Kenma nods without missing a beat. “Yeah.” After all, hasn’t he been pretending even before this whole scheme came to be? “I’ll be fine.”

Kuroo studies him for a moment longer before he takes his hand and squeezes it in what Kenma wants to think is a reassuring gesture. Then he opens the door and they step outside together. No more turning back. 

Chapter Text

The function hall turns out to be a huge ballroom-sized room at the hotel’s topmost floor, just before the rooftop. Past the giant white double doors with gilded gold patterns is a wide room with glass walls on the left and right, showing off a breathtaking view of the city at night. Twinkling fairy lights are strung everywhere, along the tops of the walls, around the columns, even hanging down from the ceiling, alternating between yellow and orange and bathing the whole room in a warm glow. 

At the very end of the room, a raised platform is set up for a stage with a microphone standing front and center while off to the side stands the buffet table, the elegant multi-tiered wedding cake towering above it all even from afar. Round tables draped with pristine white tablecloths and set with plates, silverware and wine glasses are scattered all about the room, each one with a set number of matching chairs and a glass vase of yellow and orange flowers at the center. 

A long velvet red carpet runs from the entrance all the way to the front of the stage, where a single square table with two chairs faces the stage, intended for the newly-weds. To the right of the entrance, a line of people queue up to have a photo taken by an official photographer in front of a fancy set-up consisting of a pastel yellow background, an archway decorated with white and orange flowers, and Kageyama and Hinata’s names in English written in flowy cursive script at the top of the arch. If Kenma squints, he swears he can see subtle white lines running across the background making it look like an aerial view of a volleyball court. 

As soon as they walk past the doors, Kenma feels like he’s been transported back in time to high school, like they’ve just walked into a gymnasium for a volleyball game. Everywhere he turns, there’s a familiar face. There’s Konoha, Komi, Washio and Sarukui from Fukurodani, standing in line to have their pictures taken. He spots Aone, the tall guy from Date Tech with the scary face, somewhere among the crowd, accompanied by their sly-looking captain Futakuchi, if he’s remembering their names right. Oh and there’s two of the second years from Karasuno back when Hinata was a first year 一 Ennoshita and...Kenma can’t remember. He’s never seen the other one play in an official match before. 

Kenma can’t stop looking around the room, trying to give a name to every face he sees. There’s Tendou from Shiratorizawa, hanging around the buffet table. The two first-year regulars from Aoba Johsai who were with Kageyama in middle school, keeping to themselves at one table 一 Kunimi and...Turnip Head, as Hinata used to call him. Kenma even notices a few of Hinata’s friends from Brazil, recognizing them mostly from the photos Hinata’s shown him. 

Kenma is jolted out of his daze by Kuroo’s hand on his shoulder. 

“You okay?” Kuroo asks, looking concerned. 

Kenma shrugs. “Just...wow, this is so many people.”

“Do you need to step outside for a bit?”

Kenma shakes his head. “No. I’ll manage. But wow, did they invite everyone from the world of volleyball here?”

Kuroo chuckles as they slowly make their way down the red carpet. “Looks like it. Seriously, this might as well be a V. League convention or a meet-and-greet.”

“Ah! Found you!”

Before Kuroo and Kenma can even look, Bokuto comes barreling towards them, moving much too quickly and recklessly for a man in a suit. He skids to a halt in front of them and grins. “Perfect timing! Keiji and I were just gonna go say hi to the ol’ Karasuno team!”

Neither Kuroo nor Kenma are given an opportunity to get a word in before Bokuto grabs them both by their arms and drags them towards where Akaashi stands with a glass of champagne in hand, looking smart and polished in a light gray suit.

“Keiji, look, I found them!” Bokuto declares proudly, as if he were a husband coming home to his wife with news of a promotion. 

“So you have, Koutaro.” Akaashi smiles at them both. “Good to see you, Kuroo, Kenma.”

“Hey, Akaashi.” Kuroo lifts his hand in a hello while Kenma simply nods.

Akaashi tilts his head as he studies Kenma for a moment. “Your hair looks beautiful, Kenma. Did you do it yourself?”

Kenma blushes, not expecting such a sincere-sounding comment. “T-Thanks. Um, Kuro helped.”

Kuroo grins. “The braids were my idea.”

“Ehh,” Akaashi hums, impressed. “Good job. They look good on Kenma. Don’t they, Koutaro?”

Bokuto nods his head a bit too enthusiastically. “For sure! You should wear your hair like that all the time, Kenma.”

Kenma looks away, now more than a bit embarrassed by all the attention he’s getting. “I-I don’t think it would be practical to do this everyday一”

“Bokkun!” They all turn to see Miya Atsumu saunter over to their little group with the most casual yet most deliberate gait Kenma’s ever seen. 

“Oh Tsum-Tsum!” Bokuto greets him. Kenma shoots Kuroo a look and mouths, Tsum-Tsum? Kuroo gives him a silent gleeful look and nods. 

“We were beginning to wonder where you went off to. Hello, ‘Kaashi-kun.”

“Myaa-sam.” Akaashi tips his glass towards him.

Atsumu stops and blinks blankly at Kuroo before his gaze passes right over him without a word.

Kuroo raises his brows. “Seriously? Dude, I’m right here.”

Atsumu’s eyes slide down towards Kenma and he smiles, all smooth and suave, before he steps right over towards him.

“Now here’s a pretty face. Hello,” he says in a cheery voice. “Don’t believe I’ve had the pleasure of making your acquaintance. I’m—“

“Tsum-Tsum, right?” Kenma smiles faintly. “Nice meeting you.”

Bokuto muffles a laugh behind his hand. Atsumu’s smile doesn’t falter. If anything, it only widens into a smirk. “I remember you. You played with Nekoma. 2013 and 2014 Spring Interhigh.”

“I’m surprised you remember that. Remember me.”

“How could I forget?” Atsumu is leaning down towards him now and Kenma’s glad that they’re not up against a wall or he’s pretty sure Atsumu would have done that move where he uses his arm to cage in whoever’s flirting with. “You were one of the best setters out there, if I do say so myself. Made that last Interhigh one to remember too.”

“All right, back off, Miya.” Kuroo slings a protective arm around Kenma’s shoulders. “He’s with me.” He’s smiling as he stares Atsumu down but there’s a clear warning in his eyes, a silent almost threat.

“Oops.” Atsumu leans away and raises both of his hands up. “My bad. Didn’t know that he was spoken for. Sorry.” 

“Exactly how many times have you been rejected by the people you hit on since you got here, Myaa-sam?” Akaashi asks.

Atsumu grimaces. “You didn’t have to say it like that, ‘Kaashi-kun.” He swiftly turns his head to look back at Kenma. “Never quite caught that name. What was it again?”

Kuroo answers before Kenma can. “If you remember him from both Interhighs, pretty sure you already know his name. And pretty sure you know mine too.”

“Hmm.” Atsumu taps his chin. “Sorry, can’t remember yours.”

“Seriously?” Kuroo scoffs. “I was in the Interhigh too. I work at the JVA! You should know me by now.”

“Oh I do, Kuroo-san.” Atsumu gives a lazy, flippant smile. “I just love seeing the look on your face when I act like I don’t know you.”

Kuroo’s expression darkens and Bokuto is quick to rush over and clap a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t mind him, Kuroo! Tsum-Tsum’s just teasing like he always does!”

“Exactly.” Atsumu laughs. “It’s so funny how you fall for it every time. Anyways!” Atsumu turns to Kenma with a bright, flirtatious smile. “If you ever get tired of Rooster Head here, my hotel room’s on the fifth floor and it’s room number 50—“

“Okay, enough,” Kuroo says with a firm voice and an even firmer grip on Kenma’s shoulder. “I’m right here, and not going anywhere.”

Atsumu scoffs. “Okay okay, I can see when I’m being shut down. Jeez, how’d a guy like you get a catch like him anyway? Could’ve sworn you were still single like, a year ago.”

“Kenma and I have been together for years. What are you talking about?”

“Huh.” Atsumu narrows his eyes at Kuroo. “How come I’ve never seen him around?”

Even Bokuto and Akaashi look to Kuroo expectantly and after a moment of silence, Kenma cuts in, “I don’t go out a lot. Not really comfortable in places with big crowds. But I watch your matches on TV. Kind of hard not to when I’m a major sponsor.”

Atsumu’s eyes widen. “Oh no way. Which sponsor?”

“Bouncing Ball. Not sure if you一”

Atsumu’s eyes light up and his jaw drops open. “Oh you’re that Kenma!”

Kenma frowns. “Is there...another Kenma that I should be aware of?” Last he checked, Kenma isn’t exactly one of the most common first names in Japan. In fact, he’s never met or heard of another Kenma before.

Atsumu laughs. “Only the Kenma that Kuroo-san can’t seem to shut up about when we go out drinking. Seriously, you get a few shots of shochu in him and it’s Kenma this, and Kenma that, and Kenma over and over again. Only when he’s drunk enough though. But my god, the moment he is, he just won’t stop一”

“All right!” Kuroo interrupts. “We get it, okay? Shouldn’t you be sick of me talking about my boyfriend by now?”

Boyfriend. Kenma is all of a sudden acutely aware of the warm and heavy presence of Kuroo’s arm still around his shoulders. 

“Not when it’s to embarrass you in front of said boyfriend.” Atsumu grins slyly. “So you’re the elusive Kenma. I should’ve known. I was sure, with the way Kuroo-san could go on about you, you were either his boyfriend, his ex or his cat.”

Two out of three, Kenma suppresses the urge to say aloud. 

Kuroo lets out the fakest laugh Kenma’s ever heard him give. “Very funny, Tsum-Tsum. Seriously, why aren’t you a comedian? You’re wasted on pro volleyball.”

“I get that a lot. It’s a natural talent. But you wouldn’t want to lose your best setter now, would you?”

“Last I checked, Kageyama was pretty set on staying on the national team but thanks for your concern anyway.”

Kenma coughs. “So are we just going to stand here and ignore the belligerent sexual tension between you two?”

That seems to get both Kuroo and Atsumu to shut up for a moment. 

“Ha!” Kuroo barks. “He wishes he could have me. Unfortunately for him, I have standards.”

Atsumu raises his brows. “Oh you want me so bad, it makes you look stupid.” He glances at Kenma from the corner of his eye and shrugs. “But I don’t want to get in between you two. You seem like such a perfect couple already. Don’t want to make a whole mess.”

Oh believe me, we don’t need your help with that. Kenma has to bite his lip to keep himself from saying that.

Akaashi clears his throat. “Myaa-sam, we were just about to go say hi to the Karasuno table, if you wanted to join us.”

Atsumu shakes his head. “No thanks. I think I’ve had my share of corny shit tonight and that table is just full of it. I’m gonna go terrorize Omi-kun for a bit. See ya!” And with that, Atsumu saunters off before he stops and turns around again.

“Oh and Kenma-kun! The offer’s still up if you change your mind.” He winks and then he’s off again, disappearing into the crowd a second later without another backwards glance.

“Jerk,” Kuroo mutters disdainfully. 

“Sorry about Tsum-Tsum, Kenma,” Bokuto says. “I know he can be a lot but he’s a decent guy deep down.”

Kenma nods. “It’s fine. I know how to work with people like him. It’s not a big deal.”

“You sure he wasn’t bothering you?” Kuroo asks. His arm is still around Kenma’s shoulders and he gives him a squeeze. 

Kenma shakes his head. “He seemed to bother you more than he did me. You sure there wasn’t some kinda connection between you two back there?”

Kuroo snorts. “You insult me.”

“Oh I definitely felt something,” Akaashi adds. “Didn’t you, Koutaro?”

Bokuto nods, eyes owlishly wide. “Oh yeah. To be honest, it was getting a little overwhelming.”

Kuroo scoffs. “The only one for me is Kenma. You guys should know that.”

“Don’t bring me into this,” Kenma says. “If you want to get it on with Miya Atsumu, don’t let me stop you.”

Kuroo looks affronted. “I could never. Not when I’ve got a perfectly beautiful and, might I add, hot boyfriend right here.” He laughs as he pulls Kenma closer, till Kenma is being held flush against his side, and Kenma resists the urge to lean even further into Kuroo’s warmth.

“So, uhh, Karasuno?” Kenma says in a vain attempt to steer the conversation somewhere else.

“Oh right!” Bokuto cranes his neck to look around. “Now where did they put their table一”

“Um, excuse me, everyone!” A voice rings out from the house speakers and everyone turns their head to look at Yachi standing at the microphone. She flinches when she notices that everyone’s attention is on her but clears her throat after a second and continues, “I-I’ve just been told that the program will begin shortly so if everyone can please go to their respective tables, or just find your seats, that would...uh, I mean, please take your seats, everyone! The program will begin shortly!” Yachi turns an endearing shade of pink before she scampers off the stage in a hurry.

Akaashi catches Bokuto by the shoulder. “You should probably go join the Jackals now.”

“Oh, yeah, sure.” Bokuto turns to Kuroo and Kenma. “Have you guys found the Nekoma table yet?”

Kuroo and Kenma glance at each other then turn back to Bokuto and Akaashi to tell them that they have not in fact found their table yet before Yaku’s unmistakable voice calls out to them from across the room and attracts the attention of nearly everyone in the vicinity. “Oi! Kuroo! Kenma! We’re over here, you cheesy fuckers! Not you, Kenma, obviously!”

“Aaaand that’s our cue.” Kuroo grins as he begins leading Kenma towards Yaku’s voice. “See ya guys later!”

“Later!” Bokuto calls after them as he and Akaashi leave to find their table.

They stare after them for a moment before Kuroo smiles down at him. “Well, shall we?” The arm that had been around Kenma’s shoulders slides down to his waist and Kuroo leads him towards the direction of Yaku’s voice. 

Kenma frowns up at him. “Tell me something.”

“Hm?” Kuroo remains facing forward.

“Were you actually threatened by Miya Atsumu back there?”

Kuroo nearly trips over his own feet and he avoids Kenma’s eyes, a distracted look in his own. He laughs. “What? No way.”

Kenma raises his eyebrows. “Really?’

Kuroo scoffs. “As if someone like Miya Atsumu could ever threaten me.”

Kenma smirks. “Oh I think you were pretty threatened back there.”

“No I wasn’t.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure.”

“Hmm.” Kenma hums. “Sounds like you were threatened.”

“Okay.” Kuroo gives an exasperated sigh. “And what if I was? What’s it to you?”

“Nothing.” Kenma shrugs his shoulders. “Just wanted to know.”

Kuroo frowns down at him. “You’re seriously giving me mixed signals here.”

Kenma shrugs again. “I’m just saying, if you want to go and take him up on his offer, I meant it when I told you not to let me stop you. After all, this isn’t even real.”

Kuroo stops. He stares down at Kenma for a long silent moment like he’s searching for something. “You don’t actually mean that.”

“How would you know?” Kenma keeps his face as impassive as he can as he meets Kuroo’s gaze. 

“How would I know?” Kuroo scoffs. “You really think I wouldn’t be able to tell by now? Was it really me who was threatened, or you?”

Kenma purses his lips and looks down. “And what if I was? What’s it to you?”

He doesn’t get to hear Kuroo’s answer. The lights start to gradually dim, even the fairy lights, and they decide to rush to their table without another word, spotting their teammates waving them over. 

“What took you guys so long?” Yaku hisses as they take their seats. “Me calling you out wasn’t enough for ya?”

“Sorry about him,” Kai apologizes with a graceful smile. “He’s had a few sips of the champagne.” Kai plucks the glass of champagne out of Yaku’s hand and carefully sets it aside on the table just as Yaku goes to take another sip and much to his bewilderment, finds only his empty hand.

“Ah, Kenma-kun, Kuroo-kun, hello!” Alisa Haiba smiles at them from where she sits in between Lev and Akane, looking stunning in a silver sequined halter dress with her hair done up in a high ponytail. Akane, in a simple black dress with her hair up in a bun, waves hello with a small smile.

“Long time no see!” Alisa beams and Kenma wonders if this is what it feels like to be in the presence of a celebrity. “Especially you, Kenma-kun! Why, I can’t even remember when last we saw each other!”

Kenma spends a long second wondering how both Haiba siblings can manage to have such similar enthusiastic energies yet be so completely different at the same time before Kuroo answers for the both of them, “It has been quite a while, hasn’t it, Alisa-san? Kenma here has just been really shy as of late, more than usual. You’ll have to forgive him for it.”

Kenma scowls and elbows Kuroo in the side. Alisa laughs behind an elegantly raised hand. “Oh but of course! That’s what makes him Kenma-kun, isn’t it? Still, it is refreshing to see that you two are still together! It makes me happy.”

Why does everybody have to say that? Kenma wonders.

Kuroo laughs along and drapes a casual arm around the back of Kenma’s chair. “It makes me pretty happy too, Alisa-san.”

“Gross,” Yamamoto mutters from behind his glass of water, earning him a kick under the table and a sharp look from Akane, though it does also get him a short chuckle from Alisa a second after, something that makes him glow with a vindicated sort of pride.

“So, where did you guys go off to this afternoon, Yaku-san?” Shibayama asks. “You still haven’t told us.”

“Eh?” Yaku blinks up at Shibayama. “Oh, you know, around. Shopping. A game center.”

“Ehh?!” Inuoka exclaims. “You went to a game center without us?! No fair!”

Yaku rolls his eyes. “Kenma would have just beaten you guys at every fighting game there is and then I would have finished the job by slaughtering you all at DDR anyway. Ask Fukunaga.”

Fukunaga grimaces, nods his head and then looks off into the distance as if he were recalling a past war.

“Ehhh.” Kuroo rests his elbows on the table and grins that famous provocative grin of his. “You should have told me. I relish the idea of beating you at DDR, Yakkun.”

“Ha!” Yaku snorts, leaning back against his chair with his arms folded. “I would love to see you try. I know for a fact that you don’t work out as often as you seem to.”

“Oh? Is that a challenge from national Olympic libero Yaku Morisuke himself?”

“Do you want it to be?”

“Again with the belligerent sexual tension,” Kenma interrupts. “Kuroo, how do you manage to have this much sexual tension with so many people?”

Kuroo chuckles and spreads his arms. “I can’t help that I’m just so naturally charismatic. I have chemistry with literally everyone.”

“Does that chemistry include dangerous chemical reactions?” Yaku asks.

Kuroo winks. “Only if you’re into that.”

Yaku gags and turns away. “Kenma must be a saint for putting up with you for years.”

“Oh believe me.” Kuroo puts his arm around Kenma again. “He’s tried to get rid of me before but I won’t leave that easily.”

Kenma shoots him a look but it goes unnoticed. “Honestly,” Kuroo continues, “it’s a wonder how long we’ve remained together. You wouldn’t believe how often we can get sick of each other. But we always pull through. Maybe because we just love each other too much to let each other go.”

There are a few heartfelt ‘aww’s around the table, mostly from Alisa and Akane, and several noises of disgust from the rest of the team.

“Okay, I didn’t need that whole introspective into your relationship, thanks.” Yaku’s face is all scrunched up, like he had just caught a whiff of the foulest smell on earth. 

Kenma clears his throat loudly and glares at Kuroo. “Thank you, Kuroo, I’m sure everyone appreciated that. Which romance drama is that from again?” He steps on Kuroo’s toes under the table for good measure, trying his best to communicate with only his eyes that he thinks Kuroo was laying it on a bit too thick there but Kuroo only gives him one of his easy smiles and shrugs. 

An excited murmur begins to go around the crowd as the soft music that had been playing fades and everyone settles into their seats, turning their heads this way and that to search for whatever surprise they have in store for them. 

“I wonder what they’re planning for their big entrance,” Inuoka says excitedly, leaning forward in his seat. “I bet they’re going to come out with a volleyball. Kageyama sets it and then Hinata’s going to go appear out of nowhere and spike it!”

“And then hit one of their guests,” Kenma says, deadpan. “But I wouldn’t be surprised.”

“Ooh Yaku-san!” Lev turns to Yaku, eyes sparkling. “Do you think we could do that at our wedding? Except I’d spike it and you’d come and receive it!”

Yaku snorts and tries to reach for the glass of champagne only for Kai to grab it right before he does to place it even further away from him. “If you can even hit the ball in the first place, then I might consider it.”

“I will! I haven’t neglected my training!” 

Kenma glances at Lev for the briefest second and then does a double-take as he fully takes in Lev’s appearance. From the elegantly mussed up hair to the sleek cut of the black suit jacket that accentuates and flatters his lean figure immensely, there’s no longer any doubt in Kenma’s mind that Lev is, in fact, a professional model. 

“They sure are taking their time, aren’t they?” Kai muses. “Fukunaga here has been eyeing the buffet table for the past half hour.”

Fukunaga straightens up in his seat as if he had just been caught doing something he shouldn’t have and surreptitiously wipes the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. 

“Knowing them, they’ve probably got something big prepared,” Kuroo chimes in. “I wouldn’t put it past them to think up a whole production number for their entrance.”

Akane fidgets with her hands on top of the table. “Do you guys think it would be rude of me to ask for all of the Jackals’ and the Adlers’ autographs sometime during the whole evening? Or should I go and do it now before the program begins?”

“I’m sure they wouldn’t mind,” Alisa says. “Maybe someone here can help you? Oh how about Kuroo-kun? He’s with the JVA so I’m sure一”

“I’ll help, Akane!” Yamamoto loudly volunteers, interrupting everyone else’s conversations and making all eyes at the table turn to him. Alisa claps her hands together in delight. “How about that, Akane-chan? Such a dependable older brother!”

Akane raises her eyebrows at her brother, looking completely disappointed with his efforts. “Yep. That’s him. Totally not trying to impress anyone here at all.”

Alisa blinks. “What do you mean, Akane-chan?”

“Nothing!” Akane smiles brightly at Alisa. “Thanks, I’ll think about it!”

At this point, Kenma zones out of whatever conversation is going on at the table and takes this chance to look around and fully take in the room.

It seems that every known volleyball team, with some of the exceptions being Hinata’s and Kageyama’s respective families, have been sorted into different tables. Kenma spots Akaashi at a table with all his former teammates from Fukurodani, smiling at a joke Konoha made. Everyone in that whole table appears infected with some kind of unmistakable good-natured energy, light and easygoing and mellow. 

Towards the front of the room, two tables stand opposite each other, one with Kageyama’s teammates from the Adlers and the other with Hinata’s teammates from the Jackals. Both tables are impossible to miss, what with the powerful and intimidating auras each one seems to emit in waves. Bokuto at least makes the Jackals’ table look more approachable, even with the likes of Sakusa glaring daggers at nearly everyone who has the misfortune of making eye contact with him and Atsumu sitting there in all his haughty glory and near condescending smiles. The Adlers, in contrast, are probably the most awe-inspiring yet frightening group of people Kenma’s ever seen at a reception. Aside from the self-explanatory presence of Ushijima, there’s other giants like Hirugami, Romero and Sokolov that make Kenma look like he’s less than the average height, and even Hoshiumi has an earnest intensity about him that makes him seem taller than he really is. Kenma can only imagine how much power they’d have if Kageyama were among them.

And there, second only to the table reserved for close family, sits the old Karasuno team, looking so much like a little family themselves that Kenma could almost mistake them for one. Their adviser, Takeda, looks like he’s been trying to hold back his tears (unsuccessfully) for the past hour while coach Ukai and Tanaka’s older sister - Saeko, Kenma thinks her name is - teases and comforts him at the same time. The third years - Suga, Daichi, Asahi and Kiyoko - talk and laugh amongst themselves, no doubt reminiscing on days long past, while Nishinoya and Tanaka are up to their usual antics, looking to all the world like they never mentally aged past seventeen. The first years, in contrast, seem the quieter bunch of the group but there’s an undeniable closeness in the way they act with each other, an underlying familiarity and ease present in the way Yachi looks the most relaxed when she’s with them and in the way even the stoic Tsukishima cracks a genuine smile every now and then.

As cheesy as it sounds, it warms Kenma’s heart to see that not much has really changed between them and he hides a secret smile as he looks away - and locks eyes with the most intense stare ever directed at him, rivaling even Kageyama. Kenma jumps in his seat, caught completely by surprise, as an unfamiliar face watches him intently from way across the room. Judging by the people sitting at the same table, Kenma guesses that he’s one of Hinata’s Brazilian friends. He definitely doesn’t look Japanese. But why someone from Brazil would have this much of an interest in him is beyond Kenma - until he remembers an offbeat conversation he had with Hinata where he talked about his otaku roommate and asked Kenma for his autograph to give to him.

Kenma relaxes and tries for a small smile and a friendly wave. Hinata’s roommate - Pedro, if he’s remembering it right - blinks, turns red in the face then quickly turns his back on him. 

Kenma chuckles and is about to turn back to the table when he meets someone else’s gaze. Oikawa Tooru watches him from where he sits with the other alumni of Aoba Johsai, looking effortlessly flawless in a pristine white suit that Kenma is certain only someone like Oikawa could pull off. He’s probably the only bastard bold enough to wear white at a wedding that isn’t his and get away with it. His face is impassive as his eyes look Kenma up and then down, taking in his whole look, before he smiles approvingly with no trace of hostility or sarcasm, as far as Kenma can tell, and nods at him.

Kenma self-consciously tucks a stray strand of hair behind his ear, musters a small smile and nods back, right before all lights within the room are extinguished and they’re plunged into near complete darkness, the distant lights of the city outside the glass walls the only source of illumination. 

A quiet murmur arises among the guests and there’s a few seconds more of darkness before loud hype music starts blaring from the speakers, the kind one would come to expect from parties and bars and not at all from a formal event like a reception, and a spotlight shines on the entrance where a fake orange wall has been placed in front of the entrance, so obviously made of some flimsy paper-like material.

The music comes to an abrupt stop and there’s a few moments of silent suspense before Hinata and Kageyama tear through the fake wall like a pair of whirlwinds, wearing matching black two-piece tuxedos with orange lapels and bowties and their hands intertwined, and the music starts back up again in an instant. 

Hinata leads Kageyama along, laughing with the widest grin on his face though Kenma can’t hear it above the music and the clapping and cheering from the guests. Kageyama at least looks a little embarrassed at their entrance but he wears a rare smile full of joy and unbridled affection as he lets Hinata pull him down the red carpet to the cheering of all their friends and family before Hinata screeches to a halt in front of their table and Kageyama bumps into him clumsily.

The room bursts into laughter as Kageyama barks something that sounds like “Dumbass!” and Hinata grins cheekily up at him before he faces the guests and waves his arms above his head in excitement. The spotlight catches the glint of the golden wedding rings around his and Kageyama’s fingers and as the music starts to die down, the noise from the crowd doesn’t, only seeming to get louder as whoops and whistles fill the room. It sounds more like they’re at a sports match than anything else and Kenma has to laugh at the sheer absurdity of it all. Trust Hinata and Kageyama to pull a stunt like this at their own reception.

Hinata grabs the microphone from its stand and practically shouts into it, “Hey everyone!” He grabs Kageyama’s hand with his free one and lifts it up. “We’re married!”

Another round of clapping and whooping starts anew and Hinata and Kageyama remain that way for a couple more seconds before a sufficiently embarrassed Kageyama forces his hand out of Hinata’s grip and turns to take his seat, ears turning a bright shade of red that could rival Hinata’s hair. Hinata laughs and hands the microphone off to Saeko and Suga, who Kenma guesses are the emcees of the reception, before he takes his seat. As Suga and Saeko take the stage, Hinata whispers something into Kageyama’s ear before he plants a quick kiss on his cheek and even Kenma has to smile at such a blatant yet endearing show of affection. 

Gone is the anxious Hinata who had desperately asked Kenma for advice. Here instead is a Hinata filled with so much giddy joy and zest, who looks like he can barely contain the bright laughter that comes out of him so easily and the even brighter smiles that light up his face when he looks at Kageyama and his family and friends around him. It’s contagious and it’s cheesy and Kenma wouldn’t have it any other way.

The program proceeds as planned, starting with a welcome speech from Suga and Saeko filled with lighthearted jokes that keep the audience amused and attentive but with just enough heartfelt remarks to make it appropriate, followed by a short professionally prepared montage of video clips from the actual wedding ceremony at a Shinto temple. 

Hinata and Kageyama wear matching ceremonial wedding kimono and both look uncharacteristically solemn and serious throughout the whole thing, from the wedding procession to the exchanging of sake cups all the way to the reading of the wedding vows. It’s only when they face each other to exchange rings that Hinata cracks a small smile and they look at each other with such clear adoration in their faces, and then they drink the sake cup together and are declared a married couple before all the gods. The video is followed immediately by a wail as Takeda dissolves into a fit of sobs while everyone applauds the married couple. 

Then the buffet begins and Kenma feels like he blacks out for most of it. One moment he’s standing in line with a plate, the next he’s at the table scarfing down every single morsel of food he’s got piled on and then the next thing he remembers, his plate has been wiped clean and he feels maybe just a little bit sick to his stomach.

The speeches begin sometime after, starting with the guests of honor. Kageyama’s sister Miwa delivers a particularly poignant one that leaves not a single dry eye in the room, including Kageyama himself who swears up and down that he’s not crying as he wipes his eyes on his sleeve. This one is followed by a more cheery one from Hinata’s sister Natsu who is just as fun and energetic as Shouyo was at her age, albeit maybe a lot more clever. 

Daichi gives a speech on behalf of the entire Karasuno team who each wanted to give a speech of their own before they all decided on condensing everything they want to say into one speech which ends up becoming as eclectic and hilarious a speech as one would have expected.

Bokuto gives an impassioned speech that is both comically simple and straightforward yet profound and poetic in its own way. There are other speeches afterwards from the most unexpected of guests, like Ushijima, Aone and Hinata’s middle school friend Koji. Even Oikawa is persuaded into giving a speech, though he pretends to be reluctant at first but clearly relishes the chance at the spotlight the moment it’s trained on him. 

Then, the moment Kenma had been afraid of comes. After the last speech by Oikawa, Saeko gives the entire ballroom one sweeping look before her eyes land on the Nekoma table. “Well, well!” she speaks into her mic, eyes alight. “We haven’t heard anything from our rivals at Nekoma yet, have we, Suga?”

“No we haven’t, Saeko-san!” Suga comes up behind her, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Why don’t we ask someone from Nekoma to come up here and give a few words for our newlyweds? Anyone?”

All eyes are on their table as everyone from Nekoma seems to realize that they’re being put on the spot and they all look at each other with equally stunned faces.

“Are-Are they talking about us ?” Lev says in a low voice.

“Of course they are,” Yaku scolds. “What other Nekoma is there?”

“I’ll do it,” Kuroo volunteers immediately.

“No no no!” Saeko protests as soon as she sees Kuroo start to rise from his seat. “How about someone who knows the couple a bit more?”

Oh god . Kenma feels his stomach turn over inside him.

“Yeah.” Suga nods his head in agreement. “Someone who’s a close friend to one of them.”

“Who shares a special connection.”

“Who has possibly sponsored them on a trip to Brazil before.”

Please don’t say it. Please don’t say it. Please don’t say it. 

Someone pokes him on the arm and Kenma looks up just as Saeko says, “How about a speech from Kenma-kun?”

Kenma closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. 

“Kenma-kun?” Saeko calls. “Wanna say a few words?”

“Hey.” 

Kenma looks up to the kind eyes of Kuroo, bending down to his eye level. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Kenma swallows. He looks towards the stage where Suga and Saeko wait to pass him one of their mics. He looks at the rest of his teammates who all give him the same wide-eyed look. He looks towards where Hinata and Kageyama sit and he sees the small encouraging smile Hinata gives him. He lets out the breath that he had been holding in and stands.

There’s a resounding round of applause as Kenma walks to the stage and stands in front of the mic stand. Suga comes up to give him the microphone and pats him reassuringly on the back. “Don’t forget to breathe,” he tells him with a fleeting smile and it’s the single most encouraging thing Kenma’s heard in a while.

“Uh, thanks,” he says into the mic. His voice comes out a little soft still and he clears his throat. 

“Um,” he begins intelligently.

Hinata and Kageyama are looking up at him expectantly, Hinata especially. He doesn’t want to look at his teammates in Nekoma or else he’s going to balk, he just knows it, so he focuses on a point directly above Hinata’s head and takes another deep breath to steady the rapid rhythm of his heart. 

“So,” he says. “Marriage huh.”

This earns him a few half-hearted chuckles from the audience and it’s honestly a much better response than the cold dead silence that Kenma had been expecting so he takes it. At the very least, it helps to calm him down a little and gets him out of his own head. He doesn’t know how, if it’s some weird magic heat-of-the-moment kind of thing or if he’s just been subconsciously preparing a speech in his head just in case he finds himself in this specific situation, but suddenly there are words in Kenma’s head and before he can spend any more time overthinking it, he says them aloud.

“I’ve been thinking a lot about what it means to be ‘a perfect couple’ lately.”

He pauses, hesitates for just a moment, then continues, “‘Perfect’ is such a loaded word to use to describe something but people love to use it a lot. When a person says that they think you’re a perfect couple, there’s lots of things it could mean. It could mean that you two share so much in common. Or it could mean that you’re total opposites and that’s what makes you work. It could mean you understand each other so well, or that you just seem to adore each other so much. But more often than not, it just means that they’ve never seen you two fight before. That they don’t know what gets under your skin about the other person. That they don’t see what goes on behind closed doors.”

Kenma can see some people in the audience glance at each other warily or look at him in confusion, wondering where he’s going with this. Kenma wonders where he’s going with this too but he decides to trust the voice in his head just a little longer and keeps talking.

“My point is, nobody really knows what they’re talking about when they say you’re a perfect couple. Everyone has their own idea of what ‘perfect’ is and most of the time, their idea doesn’t match up with everyone else’s. What could be ‘perfect’ to them could be perfectly normal to you, or it could be the exact opposite. I...I’m not entirely sure myself what a ‘perfect’ couple even is.”

He swallows. He hopes no one can tell how sweaty his palms are or hear how fast his pulse is going.

“If...If you asked me...it would be too easy to call Shouyo and Kageyama ‘perfect.’ But they do have a lot of things going for them. They’re the only ones who can understand the sound effects they make.”

Some laughter. Good enough.

“They’re both brilliant on the court but not so much anywhere else.”

More laughter this time. Great.

“And...they just seem like they’re made for each other. Like there’s no one else they could ever end up with but themselves. I’m pretty sure everyone in this room who’s known them since high school was expecting this to happen sooner or later.”

There’s resounding noises of assent from most of the high school volleyball teams and Kenma cracks a smile. The air becomes lighter and it becomes much easier to breathe. Don’t forget to breathe , Kenma reminds himself.

“But like I said...it would be too easy to call them ‘perfect’. There’s things that even I don’t know about their relationship. I don’t know what goes on behind closed doors, what sort of disagreements or fights they have. But I’m sure we all have those, right?”

From the corner of his eye, Kenma sees Kageyama say something into Hinata’s ear and Hinata frowns at him, shaking his head. Kenma takes another deep breath.

“No relationship is ever perfect. I think anyone who’s ever been in one will tell you that and if they think it’s perfect, then they’re probably lying to themselves. When people call a relationship ‘perfect’, they mean that you never fight, that you never disagree with each other, that you never get tired of each other or get sick of doing the same things over and over again. But that’s never going to happen. You’re going to clash at some point and I know it sounds cynical but that’s just the way it is. But...I guess...what I’m trying to get at here, is that the point of a relationship isn’t to be perfect.”

Whatever lightness had been in the air earlier has all but disappeared. It’s quiet and almost somber, like they’re at a funeral rather than a wedding.

“I keep asking myself, why do people expect your relationship to be perfect? Just because you’ve been together for so long? Just because you two seem to have it all figured out? Even then, I don’t think it’s possible to be really ‘perfect’.”

Kenma meets Hinata’s eyes at that moment and he sees a realization slowly dawning on them, sees the wheels turning in Hinata’s head and Kenma knows that Hinata is connecting the dots a lot faster than he is. 

“Because when things are perfect from the get-go...there’s nothing for you to do. There’s nothing for you to work towards, no bigger ambition to strive for. I think...being imperfect but still doing the best that you can is a lot better than being perfect all the time. I think...that calling a couple perfect right from the start discounts a lot of the hard work and tough times they must have gone through to get to that point. To just assume that things go perfectly for them because they’re made for each other or have been together for so long or understand each other so well. It’s just a little...cruel, don’t you think?

So I’m not going to call Shouyo and Kageyama perfect. I’m sure they’ve been through too much to just have all of that thrown away and be told that their relationship has always been perfect. But just because it isn’t perfect doesn’t mean it isn’t good, or worth pursuing. What Shouyo and Kageyama have...it’s special. It’s good and it’s inspiring and...I can’t think of anyone who deserves each other as much as they do. I...I’m really happy for the both of you. Somehow, you made it work, and that’s good enough.”

Kenma finishes his speech with another deep breath then, after noticing that everyone in the ballroom is still staring at him intently, he says into the mic, “Um, that’s all. Thanks.”

There’s a momentary lag between the end of Kenma’s speech and the moment when everyone claps, slow and gradual, as if they aren’t sure they should be clapping for that. Kenma can’t really blame them. His speech was all over the place. He didn’t even know what point he was going to make till he was nearly at the end and he still doesn’t know what he actually means.

He’s halfway off the stage before he hears the harsh scrape of a chair being pushed backward and he turns his head to see Hinata standing up and clapping vigorously as if he had just heard the best speech in his life, and slowly, everyone does the same, albeit most of them still look unsure. 

“Not bad for an impromptu speech,” Suga says as he helps Kenma down from the stage. His smile is kind and sympathetic. “Hey, sorry for putting you on the spot. But I think you could have had something really good if you had time to polish it a bit.”

Kenma forces a smile though he’s pretty sure it looks more like a grimace. “Thanks. Uh. I’ll work on it.”

Suga chuckles and gives him a thumbs up before he climbs onto the stage with Saeko close behind him. Saeko gives Kenma a pat on the shoulder in passing.

“Hey, Kenma!” Hinata grabs his arm as he passes their table, leaning over the back of his chair. “That was a great speech. Don’t you worry about what anyone else thinks. I thought it was good, and so did Tobio.”

Kenma nods. “I’m glad.”

Hinata pats him before he turns back to look at the stage and Kenma hurries towards where the members of Nekoma await him. The moment Kenma gets there, he sinks so deep into his seat half of his body slides underneath the tablecloth.

“Hey, good job, Kenma!” Yaku gives him a slap on the shoulder that’s a lot stronger than anyone else has given him. 

“I didn’t really get what you were talking about so it must mean it’s good!” Lev chimes in.

“It was very well-said for a speech that you were making up on the spot,” Kai says.

Alisa nods. “It was certainly...thought-provoking.”

Just say that you didn’t understand it and go . But Kenma bites his lip and mutters a thank you instead.

He hears someone else start another speech and Kenma is thankful that everyone’s attention is immediately diverted. 

Well, everyone except one.

Kuroo is still looking at him, both thoughtful and unsure. Kenma raises his brows at him, daring him to tell him what’s on his mind, but Kuroo only shakes his head, forces a smile and turns his attention to the next speech. Kenma can’t even be bothered to see who it is this time before he pulls his phone out, keeps it under the tablecloth and opens up a game to distract him from whatever’s going on around him.

After a while, Kenma thinks he’s sufficiently recharged enough to show his face again and he sits up properly just as the last of the speeches are over (this one a very tearful one from Takeda who couldn’t help himself after all, red in the face from all the champagne he’s been having to work up the nerve) and Suga and Saeko declare one last toast to the couple.

They bring out the wedding cake which is wheeled out on a cart by a proud Tendou who had done all the chocolate decorations on it. Hinata and Kageyama give the first honorary cut and soon they’re passing out slices among the guests. While everyone partakes of the cake, they clear out the whole stage to make a huge empty space in front of Hinata and Kageyama and Kenma already knows where this is going.

Sure enough, once everyone seems satisfied and full on cake, the cheesy waltz-y music starts playing and Suga and Saeko invite Hinata and Kageyama onto the dance floor for the honorary first dance.

To everyone’s surprise, Kageyama makes the first move, rising from his seat before Hinata does and offering his hand for Hinata to take. Hinata is a giggling mess as Kageyama pulls him up to his feet and drags him onto the dance floor. He fumbles for a bit as they try to decide who leads and who follows before Hinata decides for the both of them and takes the lead, much to Kageyama’s embarrassment, though after a few seconds into it, he no longer looks like he minds.

It’s easily the most intimate Kenma’s ever seen them, with the way they can’t seem to take their eyes off each other, palm to palm and nose to nose, whatever soft words they’re exchanging heard only by each other, every smile meant only for them. The music is slow and relaxing and they sway in time as naturally as if they were doing it their whole lives. But even in instances where they move out of rhythm for a second, none of them seem to notice. It’s like they’re trapped in their own little world.

Eventually, other couples start to join them. Daichi boldly walks up to Suga and asks him to dance, to which Suga gives him a cheeky smile and hands the mic off to Saeko before he takes to the dance floor. 

And as if that were the catalyst to it all, dancing couples flock the space like birds; fitting, really, considering whose reception this is. Kenma can almost see feathers sprout from the womens’ dresses and black crows’ feathers from the men’s suits.

At one point, Lev begs Yaku to dance with him and Yaku pointedly refuses each one. But after seeing the disappointed puppy look on Lev’s face, Yaku agrees with much complaint and blushing. They’re a comical pair on the dance floor, with Lev leading and towering right over Yaku, and Kenma is amused to find that for all his skill in DDR, when it comes to actual dancing, Yaku is just as clumsy as anyone else who doesn’t waltz as a habit.

Kenma’s having a fine time simply watching everyone else dance, sitting back in his chair with a glass of champagne, getting just a little buzzed from the alcohol but just enough to be pleasant rather than tipsy. But of course, someone has other ideas.

Kenma blinks and it’s like one moment, Kuroo was still sitting down to his left, and the next, Kuroo stands in front of him with his hand outstretched, smiling that crafty smile of his.

“What?” Kenma asks and Kuroo scoffs.

He bends his waist and bows. “My liege,” he says in some mock accent that Kenma can’t even place. “May I have this dance?”

Kenma snorts. “You’re not serious.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Kuroo straightens up. “Unless you’d rather dance with Tsum-Tsum over there.”

Kenma sighs. “Fine.”

Kuroo laughs then stops, looking at Kenma in surprise. “Did you just say ‘fine’?”

“Yeah.” Kenma takes Kuroo’s hand and pulls himself up to his feet. “Let’s go.”

“W-Wait.” Kuroo still looks a bit taken aback. “Did you mean ‘fine, I’ll go dance with Tsum-Tsum’ or ‘fine, I’ll dance with you’?”

Kenma rolls his eyes and begins pulling Kuroo towards the dance floor. “Of course I mean you.”

“Oh,” Kuroo says dumbly as he allows himself to be pulled along. “Right.”

“You lead,” Kenma says when they stand facing each other at the edge of the dance floor. “I don’t know how.”

“Uh, sure.” Kuroo stands there for an uncomfortably long time, his hands hovering in the air in between them as if he still can’t decide where to put them. 

Kenma sighs and grabs both of his hands and positions one at his waist, gripping onto the other in what Kenma supposes is a standard waltzing pose. “There,” he huffs. “Now, are we going to dance or what?”

Kuroo blinks down at him, still looking more than a bit incredulous. “U-Um, yeah, sure,” he stammers out a reply, cheeks turning pink as he leads Kenma into the next beat of the song. His feet are clumsy at first, not even half as graceful as everyone else. They start out slow, with Kuroo trying out the rhythm for a moment before he gradually starts to get the feel of it. 

He grips Kenma’s hand tighter, more assuredly, and after a while he doesn’t spend the whole time looking down at his feet and faces Kenma with a confident smile. This close to him, there’s no longer any way to not make eye contact and Kenma is forced to really look at Kuroo - at the subtle gold in his eyes, the flush on his cheeks, at the inviting softness of his lips.

Kenma looks away before he loses himself any more but he’s pretty sure Kuroo’s already caught him staring. And if he hasn’t, the red heat all over his face will have told him by now. 

Do it for the act , Kenma tells himself. Play it up. It’s how you’ll convince anyone who’s even watching.

So Kenma takes a deep breath and forces himself to look straight at Kuroo and nothing but, even as he feels as if his entire body is going to spontaneously combust. Something tells him that Kuroo hasn’t looked at anything but him even once since they started dancing and Kenma’s not sure whether the tingle down his spine at the thought is a good or a bad thing.

Kuroo’s steps are more assured as he leads, his composure more assertive even. His grip is firm even on Kenma’s sweat-slicked palms and he pulls Kenma closer by the waist, so close that nearly all air leaves Kenma’s lungs and he can’t help the little gasp that escapes his lips at that moment.

“You okay?” Kuroo asks teasingly and Kenma scowls, stepping on Kuroo’s toes in lieu of a verbal statement.

“Okay.” Kuroo grimaces. “I get it.” His grip on Kenma’s waist eases and Kenma pulls away a little, relief flooding his senses. Any closer and he swears he was going to一 Kenma stops that train of thought before it even gets anywhere. Play up the act. Make it seem real. But not too real. But how real is too real exactly? God, they’re going to get caught, aren’t they?

“Relax,” comes Kuroo’s voice from in front of him. He offers a reassuring smile. “I can literally hear you overthinking things from here.”

Kenma scoffs softly. “Wow, you know me so well.”

Kuroo laughs and his breath tickles Kenma’s face. “Only ‘cause you’re so easy to read.”

“Am I really?” Kenma asks, actually interested to know the answer.

“Well.” Kuroo spins them in time to the music. “Only ‘cause I’ve known you for so long.”

“Really now.” Kenma hums. “And what do you suppose I was thinking?”

“Probably worrying about how convincing we’re being right now.”

“Hm. Close enough.”

“Oh come on. I know I hit the mark on that one.”

“And what if you have?” Kenma raises one quizzical eyebrow. “What would you tell me?”

Kuroo is quiet for a moment and as he ponders his next words, the music shifts into something slower. He lets go of Kenma’s hand and slides it down to his waist and Kenma puts his arms around his neck. Kuroo smiles wolfishly before he leans forward till he and Kenma are cheek to cheek and he nearly rests his chin on Kenma’s shoulder. Kenma wants to squirm, wants to shiver despite the sudden heat that flares up from every point of contact between him and Kuroo but he resists the urge and settles for clenching and unclenching his hands to release even just a little of the tension.

“I’d tell you not to worry,” comes Kuroo’s voice, hot breath ghosting over the shell of Kenma’s ear, voice just a tad bit huskier than it used to be and this time, Kenma can’t help the shiver that passes through him. “I think we’re being plenty convincing right now, don’t you?”

Kenma swallows thickly. “Yeah.” His voice cracks a little and he cringes. “I guess so.”

Kuroo chuckles. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Kenma nods. “Yes. I’m sure.”

They sway more than they dance now, staying at one corner of the dance floor. Kenma finds himself staring at the cityscape outside the glass windows, at the reflections of the dancers and the twinkling yellow fairy lights above them. 

“Hey,” Kuroo says.

“What?”

“About that speech you made一”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Kuroo pauses then chuckles. “Okay, then I won’t ask.”

As much as Kenma burns to know what Kuroo’s question would have been, he tells himself that he wouldn’t have given him an honest answer anyway and puts his mind off his speech for now.

Kuroo pulls back till they’re face to face again and for a moment, Kenma forgets where he is. He forgets that there are about a million people with them in the room right now. He forgets why they’re here in the first place and he forgets about anything and everything that happened before the dance.

Because suddenly, Kuroo’s face is a mere few inches from his, and his hands on his waist are doing things to his body that he doesn’t even want to name, and there’s something alluring and almost hungry in his hooded gaze, in the way he licks his lips and draws Kenma in so effortlessly.

Kenma leans forward just slightly, just enough that the tip of his nose bumps against Kuroo’s, just enough to taste the alcohol on his breath, just enough to nearly brush their lips against each other, their eyes never once leaving the other’s 一 then he draws back.

Kuroo blinks, surprise written all over his features and Kenma forces himself to look away, reminds himself about the party that’s still going on around them.

“Good job on the act by the way,” he says when he can finally face Kuroo again. He laughs weakly. “You really make me believe it sometimes.”

Kuroo is quiet for a moment.. “You give my acting way too much credit.”

“Isn’t that what this all is though? Acting?”

Kuroo laughs softly. “Not all of it.”

Kenma frowns. “When has it ever not been an act?”

“Oh a lot of times,” Kuroo replies casually. “With you, I don’t need to pretend to be something I’m not. It’s all just too easy.”

His words make Kenma look at him directly, eyes wide. He feels like he’s standing on a precipice, about to find out whether he’s going to be pushed off or pulled away from the edge, heart beating a mile a minute in his chest and mind racing to catch up.

Kuroo meets his eyes and smiles. “Or has everything just been an act for you?”

Kenma is at a loss for words. His feet halt with his brain and he stares blankly at Kuroo who keeps his gaze and doesn’t flinch or hide away, a quiet intensity in his eyes that Kenma suddenly can’t bear to look at any longer.

“I…” Kenma pulls away, breaking their tight embrace. “I一”

“Kenma?” Kuroo’s starting to look a bit alarmed.

“I’m...going to go sit down.” Kenma is already walking backwards away from him. “I’m a bit tired.”

“Oh.” Kuroo blinks. “Okay.”

Kenma smiles apologetically before he turns and walks briskly back to their table.

“Kenma!” Kuroo calls after him at the last second and despite everything in his body telling him not to, Kenma stops and turns around.

Kuroo stands there with his mouth open, hand reaching out towards him. He swallows. He looks lost, uncertain, scared even. Then his face breaks out into as suave of a smile as he can muster and he shakes his head. “Never mind.”

Kenma doesn’t need to be told twice. Kenma turns and marches back to their table, telling himself over and over that it’ll be over soon. This - whatever this is - will be over soon, whether he really wants it to be or not. 

Chapter Text

Times goes on in much the same way it always does.

Kuroo Tetsurou wishes it would go faster.

He never really realized just how slowly the days go until he’s acutely aware of every single hour, every single minute that passes by at a snail’s pace. He feels time crawl forward like ants climbing up anthills; seconds marching single file, painstakingly slow and deliberate, carrying whatever crumbs they can get from the present into the past.

Kuroo had never bothered himself with time as much as he does now. He never really thought about it before, never really counted down minutes and hours whenever he was idle. Really the only time he ever does that is in the office, when he’s sitting there waiting for the hour hand to catch up so he can leave for the day. 

But now, even when sitting at home with nothing to do or riding the last train at the end of a long work day, Kuroo Tetsurou finds himself counting his seconds as if he were counting hundred yen coins. 

He doesn’t really know why, if he’s waiting for something to happen or if he’s just plain bored. All he knows is that for every second that passes by, every minute and every hour that disappears into the past, he’s one step further from his mistakes and one step closer to forgetting all about that horrible business that went down between him and Kenma.

It’s comforting, in a morbid and kind of depressing way, to know that sometime in the future, time will do its job and blur his memories of everything that had happened till they’re no longer as vivid, till they no longer feel as real; till every single memory of Kenma is either erased permanently or clouded over with newer memories that don’t involve him. 

But time is slow, slower than Kuroo wants it to be, so he helps it along in whatever ways he can.

He throws himself into work in a way that he’s never done before, with the zeal of a fresh underpaid employee and the foolishness of a man who’s got nothing left to lose. He goes through report after report nearly non-stop, takes field jobs to any and every game, files for overtime any chance that he gets - anything to keep him from slowing down and counting the seconds.

Because when he slows down and starts counting the seconds, his thoughts catch up to him. Memories float up unbidden from the murky depths of his mind and he simply doesn’t want to think about them. He doesn’t want to think about what Kenma could be doing right now, doesn’t want to think about whether he’s eating right or not, doesn’t want to think about how easy it would be to look up his name online and watch his videos or tune in to his streams.

The first few weeks of this, Kuroo runs himself ragged. It feels like his body is being held together by the thinnest of threads and there are layers of dark circles underneath his eyes. His co-workers are always so quick to point it out but he only ever smiles and tells them that it’s fine. This is okay. Any second that he doesn’t spend counting or thinking is good.

And very soon, it becomes routine. He doesn’t even need to tell himself what to do anymore. He settles down to work as easily as one would wake up in the morning - without thinking, without questioning. After all, nobody thinks about why they open their eyes to see. They just do. Nobody thinks about why they eat food when they’re hungry or why they go to sleep when they’re tired. They just do it as naturally as they do everything else.

Kuroo wakes up, eats his meals, gets to work then goes to sleep.

No rests in between. No time to let his demons catch up to him. Just constant motion till time does its work and he forgets why he was even moving in the first place.

Kuroo gets through the months like this and even he is surprised when he comes out of them mostly unscathed, mostly okay and mostly not thinking about Kenma. 

That’s not to say that he never thinks about him again though. 

It’s hard to get rid of something that’s always been there since forever ago, a constant presence that is just suddenly gone without much of an explanation. To say that he’s forgotten all about Kenma would be putting it lightly. It would be like forgetting most of his childhood, forgetting every single day of high school, forgetting nearly all of his college life and getting only the bare bones of what happened, not the full story. 

Kuroo doesn’t really forget. He just doesn’t give himself time to remember.

But there will always be reminders. Like the few threadbare hoodies that he pushes to the very back of his closet because he can’t bear to throw them out, or the spare controllers in his childhood bedroom that he always forgot to return. Or, much more invasive and jarring, the calls from his friends and family who always have to ask about Kenma.

Kuroo doesn’t realize until he gets several messages from Yamamoto one day asking to hang out that he’s never told anyone about the break-up. Yamamoto sounds like he has absolutely no idea, if the fact that he even bothered to tell him to “drag Kenma out of his house for once and convince him to come with you” is any indication, and Kuroo can’t be sure if any of his other friends know either.

But it’s clear in the way they still ask him about Kenma whenever they message every once in a while; in their oblivious check-ups and offhand questions about how well Kenma’s been doing, what he’s been up to, why they haven’t heard from him in a while.

Kuroo’s not sure when exactly he decided to just not say anything at all. He can’t say whether or not it was a conscious decision on his part or simply something that arose in the heat of the moment. The last thing Kuroo wants to do is lie to his friends, especially about a relationship. But when confronted with the choice of whether or not to admit that he and Kenma broke up, Kuroo realizes that for all his talk of leaving the past behind, of wanting time to move forward faster, of wanting his memories to fade as soon as possible, this is one thing he doesn’t want to let go of.

Kuroo really doesn’t know why, when everything before then had always been about moving forward, about forgetting. He doesn’t know why he can’t just admit that it’s over between him and Kenma, that they don’t talk to each other anymore, that nothing is the same between them. Maybe he really doesn’t want to let go just yet, no matter how much he may want to.

It’s a paradox that boggles his mind - wanting to hold on to Kenma but wanting to forget everything about him. 

It doesn’t make sense. Doesn’t align with anything he’s been doing or anything he’s been thinking. If he truly doesn’t want to let go of Kenma, then why is he so eager to forget? Why does every memory, every recollection, every stray intrusive thought about the way Kenma looks in the morning with his hair splayed out on his pillow or the way Kenma scrunches up his nose when he’s confronted with something he dislikes hurt him so much? 

Kuroo can’t seem to decide what’s worse - forgetting or remembering.

But he can’t spend every day wondering about it, pondering on the question like a philosopher with nothing better to do. So the first time Yamamoto asks him to come hang out since the breakup, Kuroo says, “Fuck it.”

He tells him that he’s going. He doesn’t tell him if Kenma will be with him or not. If Yamamoto’s asked Kenma to come as well and Kenma agrees, then so be it. Kuroo thinks that it’s probably been long enough. It’s been, what, a couple of months since then? Kenma should be over the grieving period by now. No, they should both be over it by now. No matter how much it might ache to see Kenma again, no matter how much it still hurts Kuroo, he can’t keep ignoring it forever.

At one point or another, he knows he’s going to have to stop and face those fears. Better to get it over with now before he loses his nerve forever.

But, much to his surprise, Kenma doesn’t show.

He’s just as puzzled about it as the others are, though he tries not to show it too much. Yamamoto claims that Kenma had cancelled last minute and wonders why he and Kuroo didn’t just coordinate but after Yamamoto lets slip that Kenma claimed to not have seen Kuroo in a while (which is true), Kuroo piggybacks off of that and confirms it to Yamamoto. (Not technically a lie.) 

He would be lying if Kuroo said that he wasn’t relieved that Kenma didn’t show up after all. As much as he talked himself into facing Kenma even though they're still fresh from the break-up, some part of Kuroo still isn’t ready to see him. He doesn’t want to see how much Kenma’s changed. Doesn’t want to see how he’ll look at him now, with that same caution and hostility he’d look at a stranger with. Doesn’t want to have to smile and talk to him as if nothing had happened, as if they’re still friends (are they?), as if every word isn’t rough and forced and doesn’t send a thorn straight to his heart.

He’s glad when Yamamoto and the others don’t question it. After all, they’re adults now. They have things like work and responsibilities, things that could crop up at the last minute. They all understand that. There’s nothing odd about him and Kenma not seeing each other for days, even if they are still supposed to be together.

Kuroo’s not sure why he didn’t take that opportunity to break the news to everyone while he can. He’s not sure if it’s because he forgot to, if he never found the right time to bring it up or if some deep subconscious part of him just doesn’t want to admit that it’s real yet. At the end of the night, Kuroo says goodbye to Yamamoto, Shibayama and Inuoka and takes the last train home, only realizing that he never told them when he’s back in his apartment, changing out of his sticky work clothes before he crawls into bed.

It should have been easy and it would have saved him so much trouble in the future. But even after that, when more invitations and opportunities come, Kuroo can’t seem to muster the strength or the courage to just say it. 

It doesn’t help that Kenma is always absent from everything that Kuroo goes to, or that he neither confirms nor denies anything. In fact, Kenma is just as silent about the state of their relationship as Kuroo is. Neither one of them seem to want to own up to it.

It doesn’t take long for Kuroo to connect the dots and realize that Kenma’s been avoiding him. He just never seems to be around when Kuroo is, always making up some excuse like work or family or just exhaustion, at least according to their friends, and the days when Kenma just so happens to be free are the days when Kuroo’s the one who can’t or doesn’t show. It’s so obvious Kuroo has to wonder why none of their friends have picked up the pattern yet. But he supposes that they’re giving Kenma the benefit of the doubt and don’t want to meddle too much into affairs that aren’t theirs. 

But their friends aren’t dumb. Kuroo can tell that they suspect that something is up. Yaku looks at him with one quizzical eyebrow raised whenever he tells him that he and Kenma are still okay. Kai is a lot more subtle and nods along but Kuroo can see in his eyes that he doesn’t quite believe it. Even the densest people he knows, like Lev and Inuoka, seem confused when Kuroo answers their queries about Kenma with as much vagueness as he can without completely giving it away. With every lie that Kuroo tells, he feels like he’s building a tower that’s going to topple over sooner or later, bringing him and possibly Kenma down with it.

But once it starts, Kuroo finds that he can’t stop. One by one, he piles lie after lie, creating an illusion not only to his friends but to himself. 

In this self-created illusion, he and Kenma are still together. Sure, they don’t talk as much as they used to and neither have been seen in the same room together for a while now, but that doesn’t mean that they’re not on good terms. 

And the more Kuroo says it, the more he starts to believe it.

He knows deep down that he’s only fooling himself but some part of him still wants to hold on to that memory of Kenma and keep it with him for even just a little bit longer. He knows that he can’t keep doing this forever. Eventually, he’s going to have to accept the truth and just move on. He knows that all this lying and denying isn’t going to do him any good in the long run and is only going to hurt him and his friends more the longer he keeps it up.

But he tells himself, just a little bit longer. Just one more time, or a couple more, just until I feel better about it, until it doesn’t ache anymore. Even if it’s just for one night, he wants to hold on to this false reality he’s created, one where he and Kenma never broke up, one where they’re still happy despite the distance, one where Kenma is still in his life. 

Even if it’s just for a moment, Kuroo wants to believe that it’s real and that it’s just bad timing for all of the times when Kenma isn’t there whenever Kuroo is, as his friends have started to call it.

He wants to laugh, push all notions of the truth out of his mind, and say, “Yeah, it’s all just bad timing,” and believe it with all his heart.

****

Months fly by in the blink of an eye and before Kuroo knows it, he’s busier than he’s ever been as the JVA prepares for the Tokyo Olympics. The national team has been chosen and his boss has him working non-stop with advertising and overseeing the team’s practice and coordinating with all sorts of departments to make sure that the event goes as smoothly as possible. 

Kuroo watches the finals against Argentina from the sidelines, cheers and claps with everyone else, laughs at every antic Bokuto pulls, gasps at every spike from Ushijima and grimaces at every serve Oikawa hits. He whoops at every successful receive Yaku gets and feels a sense of exhilaration everytime he sees Kageyama and Hinata’s improved freak quick. It makes him want to get out there and try his hand at blocking Argentina’s spikes, just to see if he still remembers what it feels like to stand on the court. But he swallows his pride and hangs on the sidelines with Iwaizumi, who had come back from America to become the national team’s athletic trainer.

The match goes by so quickly, too quickly even. Kuroo blinks and they’re at match point with Japan in the lead. Then he blinks again and Argentina’s caught up. Then he blinks one more time and it’s an endless rally between both teams before Argentina slams one last deadly serve from Oikawa and the stands full of spectators clad in white and blue erupt in cheers and applause as they reach match point one last time.

The final rally goes by in one more blink and before Kuroo can even register it, Iwaizumi has his arm around his shoulders, shaking him vigorously as he shouts and cheers with everyone else after Hinata’s last spike goes right through Argentina’s blockers and hits the floor with a resounding, hair-raising noise, winning them the gold medal and Argentina the silver.

Kuroo goes to congratulate them, hugging Yaku with breathless laughter, patting both Hinata and Kageyama in the back proudly, nearly tackling Bokuto to the ground and putting him in a headlock. He even goes to congratulate Oikawa, who looks more than a bit put-off by the loss, but who smiles graciously and bows deeply to the winning team, giving one last exhilarated smile before he turns and follows his team to the locker rooms.

Kuroo ends up foregoing the victory party at the end of all the events, too tired to even get himself out of bed, but predictably, the first work day after the Olympics, he gets dragged to the izakaya near his workplace by his co-workers to celebrate after hours. They’re playing a taped rerun of the Japan and Argentina match on the TV set and both the server Mari and her grandfather congratulate them when they enter, even offering one round of drinks on the house. 

Kuroo’s content keeping to himself, sipping his beer and laughing along to whatever his co-workers say or joke about. He doesn’t know them too well and would rather keep it that way, seeing as he has almost nothing in common with them, but he doesn’t want to seem standoffish so he goes along with it for just one night. He watches the match on the TV, even though he’s seen it a hundred times already, and counts down the minutes to when would be an appropriate time to excuse himself and leave. 

He tunes in to whatever his co-workers talk about every once in a while, just so he doesn’t seem inattentive, but for the most part he stays quiet unless he’s somehow roped into the conversation which, in retrospect, he should have seen as inevitable given as he seems to be the youngest one in a table full of thirty-somethings. Why no other co-worker in his age group wanted to come...is kind of obvious, now that he thinks about it, but he supposes that he has no one to blame but himself for his predicament.

“Say, Kuroo-kun,” slurs one co-worker, face all ruddy, waving his cup around so much that alcohol sloshes out of it and onto the table. “How come you ain’t married yet? At your age and with a face like yours?”

There’s various noises of assent, in varying degrees of drunkenness, all around the table and Kuroo sits there for a moment wondering how the hell they even got there in the first place. Then he smiles and laughs flippantly. “Well, I don’t know about my face, Ogawa-san. I consider myself perfectly average in terms of looks.”

“Pffft.” One co-worker, Sekiguchi, snorts. “Perfectly average, he says. Yeah right. When I was your age一”

“But you’re at least seein’ someone, right?” Ogawa asks, leaning even further into Kuroo’s personal space. “Anyone special in your life?”

Only one name and one face pops into Kuroo’s mind when Ogawa says that and it must have shown on his face because Ogawa smirks, a little smug, and prods him on the arm. “So, who is it? Anyone we know?”

Kuroo laughs nervously and brushes Ogawa’s hand away. “It’s, uh...a bit more complicated than that.”

Another co-worker, Sakaya, sighs and lifts his glass. “Ain’t that always the way.”

“Ahh come on!” Ogawa persists. “We never hear anythin’ ‘bout your love life, Kuroo-kun!”

“And for good reason,” Kuroo adds, earning him a few laughs from the others. “You of all people should know that I’m too busy to date anyone. Besides, nobody wants to date anyone who looks like a con man.”

Sekiguchi snorts. “A con man, sure, but a good-looking one still.”

Kuroo grins. “Why Sekki-san, is there something you’ve been wanting to tell me?”

“There has to be someone,” Ogawa drawls.

Sakaya nods. “I find it hard to believe that you’d stay single for long, Kuroo-kun.”

“Yeah, why you holding out on us?” asks one more co-worker, Yoshida.

Kuroo doesn’t know whether it’s the beer, the atmosphere, or the numerous pairs of eyes staring holes right through his skull but after a moment’s hesitation, he sighs and says, “Well, I guess there is someone.”

Ogawa whistles and everyone’s attention is suddenly on Kuroo, the looks in their eyes practically begging him to go on. 

“We were together for so long and knew each other for even longer.” Kuroo’s words feel slow and heavy on his tongue and reek of the alcohol he’s been drinking but once he starts talking, he finds that he can’t really stop. The words just come out as easily as if he had prepared them and he can’t believe that of all the times and places, sitting in a small izakaya with co-workers he barely knows is where he’s going to admit out loud to somebody else that he and Kenma broke up.

“We were really close and when we got together, it felt like the most natural thing in the world. Like it was...meant to be, for lack of a better word. There was no one else I really loved. No one else I was ever so serious about. Of all the relationships I’ve ever had, this was the only one that really felt special. It made me want to stay. It was the only one, I think, that made me really happy, even when there were days when we weren’t. I really thought that it would last forever. That this was the one. But then...it ended, just like that. No warning, no fanfare, nothing. It just...fizzled out and then it was all over.”

When Kuroo looks up, his co-workers all stare at him, stunned. 

Sekiguchi inhales through gritted teeth. “Jeez, when we asked ‘bout your love life, I didn’t expect to get a sob story.”

“How long ago was this?” Yoshida asks.

Kuroo shrugs. “About...three years ago, actually.” Only when he says it aloud does Kuroo realize just how long ago it was. Three years. Three years of avoidance and total silence. Imagine that.

“That was really…” Sakaya pauses, concentrating hard as he tries to find the right word before settling on, “profound, Kuroo-kun. The way you talked about it. Almost made me think that you’re still in love with your ex.” He laughs before he chugs his beer down.

Kuroo stares, face blank, before he looks down at his own beer and gives a short bitter laugh. “Now that you mention it.” He smiles faintly. “I guess I still am.”

Even Sekiguchi looks sympathetic and he reaches out and pats Kuroo once on the arm. 

“Well.” Ogawa drapes an arm around Kuroo’s shoulders. “If you need help gettin’ over it, why don’t you try datin’ someone else for a change? I have a niece who’s around your age I think and I hear that she just broke up with her boyfriend too.”

Kuroo grimaces. “As much as I appreciate it, Ogawa-san, I think I can meet other people on my own. No offense.”

“Aah, enough!” Sekiguchi downs his beer in one huge gulp. “You young ‘uns are making me feel bad for my lack of a love life, even a sad one!”

“Aaw, don’t say that, Sekki-san!” Yoshida claps Sekiguchi so hard on the back that Sekiguchi almost keels over the table. “There’s still hope for you!”

The conversation veers somewhere else and his co-workers gradually move on from the topic of love, much to both Kuroo’s and Sekiguchi’s relief. Kuroo isn’t pulled into anymore conversations after that and he finishes his last mug of beer before he announces to the table that he’s leaving early with many apologies and polite smiles.

Kuroo walks about a block away from the izakaya, headed in the general direction of the train station, before he stops and pulls out his phone, bringing up the old group chat between himself, Kai and Yaku which has remained dormant for at least a month now. 

A half hour later, he sits in between Kai and Yaku at a bar he’s never been to before, knocking back drink after drink, feeling cheerier with every glass he empties.

“Remind me again why you wanted to take us drinking at-” Yaku glances at his wristwatch, “-9 PM on a weeknight.”

“Because I knew you two’d be in town,” Kuroo drawls out. “Want another drink, Yakkun? You don’t have to train tomorrow, right?”

Yaku frowns before he rolls his eyes and passes his empty glass over to Kuroo who hands it to the bartender. 

“I must admit, this is pretty unusual,” Kai says. “Even for you, Kuroo. Won’t Kenma get mad?”

Kuroo snorts. “What Kenma doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

Kai and Yaku exchange a look.

“Are you sure you’re all right, Kuroo?” Yaku asks, concern creeping into his voice.

Kuroo nods. “Yeah yeah.” He pushes a full glass into Yaku’s hand. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. Is it really so wrong of me to want to catch up with some old friends?”

“Well if you put it that way.” Yaku raises his glass. “It has been a while.”

“Yakkun, we literally saw each other at the Olympics a few days ago.”

“And you didn’t come to the after party.”

“Eh.” Kuroo shrugs. “I was too tired.”

Yaku snorts. “And how do you think we felt after the match?”

Kai laughs. “Either way, congratulations on the gold. Argentina looked like a tough opponent.”

“And they were.” Yaku smiles grimly. “You won’t believe how sore my arms were after receiving a ton of Oikawa’s serves.”

“Were they really that bad?” Kuroo asks.

Yaku gives him a look. “You have no idea. And their blockers!”

Kuroo laughs. “My god, their blockers.”

Kai tilts his head with a serene smile. “Ah yes, their blockers.”

It’s easy to get lost in conversation with Kai and Yaku and Kuroo is much more relaxed than he was with his co-workers. He drinks more as well, ordering drink after drink till he loses track, not thinking or choosing not to think about how fast he’s going through each glass. But if Kai and Yaku notice, they don’t say anything, and Kuroo keeps drinking, till his vision goes slightly blurry and he’s swaying in his seat, till he’s giggling at even the remotest funny thing and losing track of what he’s even saying.

“Did you guys know,” he says, smiling to himself as he leans over the bar, “that Kenma looks the best in the morning, just before he wakes up? His hair’s all spread out over his pillow and his mouth’s a bit open and his eyelashes - wow, his eyelashes! The way they look in the sunlight.”

Yaku’s giving him a look as he swirls his drink in his glass, looking both amused and exasperated. “Uh-huh. Tell us about the part when Kenma cooked for you again?”

“Oh that was one of my favorite days! Kenma went out of his way to make me grilled mackerel and like, sure, it wasn’t as good as grandma’s, but it was a nice effort! Also, really sexy of him. Like, really.”

“Thanks for that image,” Yaku says before he takes a drink.

“I never knew Kenma could cook,” Kai says, sounding genuinely impressed. 

“Oh he can,” Kuroo says. “He just doesn’t want to most of the time. Oh have I told you guys about the time he had nothing else in his fridge but some bread and half an orange? Guess what he made for dinner that night.”

“I can’t imagine what,” Yaku says.

Kuroo chuckles, smile soft and wistful as he rests his chin in his hand. “And he cries at every movie where an animal dies. He doesn’t want to admit it but he does and it’s the cutest thing when he tries to hide it. He sniffs so softly and sneezes like a little kitten and he glares at you even when his eyes are all red and snot is dripping down his face and he pulls up the hood of his hoodie to hide behind. He also claims that he doesn’t like it when I tickle his belly but I know he secretly does, and—“

“Oh my god!” Yaku exclaims. He slams his glass down on the bartop. “How long are you going to keep talking about Kenma?!”

Kuroo freezes and his eyes go wide. “I...I was talking about Kenma?”

Kai raises his eyebrows. “You...never noticed?”

Kuroo blinks as his mind catches up with his mouth. The smile disappears completely from his face and he turns away from them and gestures for another drink.

“Wait, seriously?” Yaku stares at him incredulously. “You never realized?”

Kuroo laughs and forces a smile. “Yeah, no. I mean, no, I never realized. It’s...weird.”

“Yeah, well.” Yaku smiles wryly. “Guess that means everything’s back to normal huh?”

Kuroo nods, chuckling, before he frowns and stares at Yaku. “What do you mean?”

Yaku freezes like a deer caught in headlights. He looks to Kai who just stares back at him and gives a defeated  shrug. 

Yaku sighs. “Okay, fine. We thought that you and Kenma were going through a fight or something because we never see you two together and you haven’t talked about him in like, forever.”

Kai nods. “It is odd when you don’t bring him up as much as you used to.”

Kuroo flaps his mouth open and close helplessly, hands alternating between putting down and lifting his glass. “Oh,” he says. 

Kai and Yaku glance at each other before Kuroo raises his glass and half-shouts, “Refill!”

“Whoa, don’t you think you’ve had enough?” Yaku lays a hand on Kuroo’s arm and looks on in horror as the bartender pours him another glass.

Kuroo laughs and takes another shot. “Nah, I’m just getting started. I’m paying anyways and I’ve still got a couple bills left.”

Yaku scoffs and reaches for his phone. “I’m calling Kenma,” he mutters.

“No!” Kuroo yells, causing nearly everyone in the bar to glance in his direction. He waits until everyone’s attention is gone before he clears his throat and smiles at Yaku. “Please don’t.”

Yaku raises a single brow. “Why not?”

“I don’t want to bother him.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“He could be busy.”

“With what?”

“Uhh, I don’t know, his work, obviously!”

Yaku scoffs and almost presses the call button before Kuroo grabs his phone from his hand.

“Hey!” Yaku shouts indignantly and rises out of his seat to reach for it only for Kuroo to hold it above his head. “Okay now that’s just mean!” Yaku says.

“You are not calling Kenma,” Kuroo says with a tone of finality before he deletes all of Kenma’s contact information from Yaku’s phone.

“Dude, what the fuck?!” Yaku grabs his phone and glances between it and Kuroo with his mouth agape. “That’s it. You are actually insane.” 

“Okay.” Kai lays a placating hand on Kuroo’s shoulder. “Let’s all calm down.”

“Please,” Kuroo pleads and his voice comes out sounding so soft and so pitiful that it gives both Kai and Yaku pause. “Please just don’t call Kenma.”

Yaku frowns but settles back down into his seat. “Okay. We won’t.”

Kuroo nods and raises his glass. “Thanks.” He takes another shot.

“But you have got to stop drinking!” Yaku has to wrestle the glass from Kuroo’s firm grip before he motions for the bill from the bartender. “Get ready ‘cause we’re bringing you home.”

“Oh?” Kuroo giggles. “Already, Yakkun? I thought you’d at least take me to dinner first.”

Yaku only rolls his eyes, pays for everything then helps Kai haul Kuroo to his feet and guide him outside of the bar where they try to help him walk straight before they find out he’s too drunk and unsteady to walk on his own.

“You owe us for this,” Yaku mutters disdainfully as he puts one of Kuroo’s arms around his shoulders and Kai does the other.

“Aaw Yakkun.” Kuroo grins down at him. “Are you even trying to help support me? You look like a little kid.”

Yaku stares back at him with a blank expression. “One more word and I’m dumping you into the nearest street gutter.”

Kuroo chuckles but doesn’t say another word as Kai and Yaku walk with him to the train station. They get a few stares from a couple of late night stragglers, probably because Kuroo’s drunk on a Wednesday night, but they don’t bother them. It’s not until they reach a deserted street that Kuroo starts mumbling something, head bent.

“Did you say something, Kuroo?” Kai asks.

“Did you know,” Kuroo mumbles, “that Kenma doesn’t usually do much work on Wednesdays?”

Yaku gives him a look. “Oh please, tell us more,” he says flatly.

“It’s true.” Kuroo stumbles but is caught by Kai on time. “His workload...it’s lighter on Wednesdays. Did that on purpose. So he gets kind of like a rest day in the middle of the week. He works late on Monday and Tuesday and leaves Wednesday mostly free so he only ever has to do work in the afternoon.”

Yaku raises his brows. “So you were lying when you said that he had work to do tonight?”

Kuroo knits his eyebrows together in consternation. “Huh. Yeah, actually. But you know, he doesn’t do that all the time. He does work on Wednesdays, sometimes. ‘Cause he might have slept early on Tuesday or something while he still had work to do.” He chuckles. “And then he gets all grumpy in the morning and his face looks so cute with his eyebrows like that and his mouth all pouty.”

Kai nods his head. “I can picture it already.”

“Right?” Kuroo laughs. “Sometimes I have to remind him to take a break every now and then. I know Kenma doesn’t seem like the most motivated person but I swear, when he actually gets in the zone or something, he’s in the zone. It’s like all or nothing with him. I’ve had to physically peel him away from his computer many times before just to get him to eat and he gets all upset with me at first but in the end, he always forgives me when he takes that first bite of good food. Well, you know...except for that one time.”

“What one time?” Yaku asks, suddenly interested.

Kuroo stops, mouth hanging open dumbly, before he shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”

“Clearly it was something,” Yaku presses. 

Kuroo keeps shaking his head. “Nothing, nothing. Just have to forget.”

“Forget what?” Kai asks.

Kuroo glances between the both of them. “You know, Kenma never used to get mad.”

Yaku raises a brow. “Have you never seen him with Lev?”

Kuroo snorts. “Well, of course I have. He gets angry but he never gets...you know, mad. Furious. Enraged. Whatever other synonym for really really mad there is. Like, batshit crazy kinda mad, you know?”

Kai laughs. “Well, you would know, wouldn’t you?”

Kuroo shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. But I really never thought that he could get so mad until...he did.”

“What did you do?” Yaku asks glibly. “Hide his video games? Stand in front of the TV while he was playing? Accidentally showed up in the background while he was filming or streaming?”

Kuroo is silent as they pass under a bright streetlight. “I...made him mad.”

“That’s not really what I was asking一”

“And then, he just...stayed mad. And I think he’s still mad, even till now.”

Kuroo stops walking and stays there for a long while, staring down at his shoes, and Kai and Yaku have no choice but to stop moving as well. Kai gives him a sympathetic look and rubs circles on his back. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, Kuroo. You just have to talk it out.”

“Talk it out.” Kuroo’s laughter is bitter and hollow. 

“Yeah.” Kai smiles encouragingly. “Kenma will listen. I know he will.”

“It’s not the end of the world,” Yaku says, much more serious this time. “Look, I know it’s probably none of our business, but I know what you’re talking about. I understand where you’re coming from. And believe me, Kenma’s only going to be madder when he finds out you’ve been drinking your pain away instead of trying to confront it. Just...talk to him. Work it out.”

Kuroo scoffs. “You don’t understand.”

“Oh don’t I?” Yaku says. “I think I understand exactly what’s going on here.”

“Oh do you? Well then, tell me what’s going on here.”

“You and Kenma had a fight and neither of you will apologize and admit that you’re wrong and now you’re here with us, drinking on a Wednesday, trying to forget it so you won’t have to apologize.”

Kuroo throws his head back and laughs so loudly a dog starts barking from somewhere. “Oh Yakkun, how wrong can you possibly be?”

Yaku looks unimpressed. “Am I really so off the mark there?”

“Way off!” Kuroo shrugs his and Kai’s arms off of him and stumbles forward. He seems to maintain his balance the first few steps but falls to his knees without getting far. Both Kai and Yaku rush forward to help him up but Kuroo pulls his arms out of their reach and remains kneeling on the ground.

“He’s gone!” he says.

“Who’s gone?” Kai asks.

“Kenma?” Yaku provides.

Kuroo points up at Yaku, grinning, and Yaku stares at him in disbelief. “What do you mean Kenma’s gone?”

Kuroo shrugs his shoulders. He sways back and forth for a while, looking bleary-eyed up at the heavens. “He’s gone,” he says simply. 

“Kuroo, what一”

“I let him go,” Kuroo says. His voice is surprisingly steady despite the slur in between his words but his eyes have a glassiness to them and he blinks more than he should be. “I-I screwed up. Whatever we had, I thought it was special and I just...I let it go, just like that. No fanfare, no big bang, I just...let him go, just like that.” He forces a laugh and looks down at his lap.

“But god, did I wish I didn’t!” Kuroo shakes his head. “I wish...that I fought...that I tried harder. I could have stopped him. I could have stopped this. But I didn’t. It’s pathetic, isn’t it? That I couldn’t even fight, couldn’t even say anything other than...than whatever I said.”

“Kuroo?” Kai begins cautiously. “Are you...all right?”

Kuroo laughs again and when he faces his friends, unshed tears glisten in his eyes. “No, I’m clearly not all right, Kai, but thanks for asking.” 

“I, uh.” Yaku clears his throat. “I don’t want to seem insensitive but...what exactly happened?”

Kuroo shrugs. “I...I don’t know. He was mad and I was just so tired and he told me...he told me that he didn’t want this anymore….that it wasn’t working and...like an idiot, I said, yeah. Maybe this isn’t working. And then I hung up. Or, he did. Whatever! We both hung up and I...I haven’t seen him since.”

Kuroo slouches forward and braces his hands against the ground. The first tear falls and is quickly followed by another. And then another, and another, and another, till teardrops rain from his eyes in one long uncontrollable deluge. A sound rips from the very back of his throat, an ugly mixture of a sob and a wail. It sounds horrible and pitiful and pathetic and Kuroo can’t stop. 

He’s perfectly aware of how unattractive and stupid he looks, a grown man of six feet, all crumpled up on the ground on a weeknight, still in his work clothes which now reek of alcohol, crying over a break-up that happened three years ago. He still can’t believe it’s been that long but it only makes him feel even more pathetic when it still hurts like it had only happened yesterday.

Suddenly, it feels like there’s not enough air in his lungs, or around him even. He heaves, in and out, but it doesn’t relieve the tightness in his chest, the almost claustrophobic oppression in his lungs.

It doesn’t help that sobs continue to rip out from his throat, loud and almost guttural to the ear. His whole body is shaking, from the tips of his fingers to the top of his head, and it hurts, oh god does it hurt more than he ever remembers hurting before. He can’t even speak. He can’t form a single coherent word to explain what it is he’s feeling right now.

Distantly, he can hear Kai and Yaku’s voices, as if he is standing at the bottom of a deep chasm and they’re yelling at him from above. He feels their hands on his body, one rubbing circles along his back while the other holds him steady at the shoulders. But even their touch feels distant. 

But slowly, with a bit of effort, the sobs do eventually die down. Kuroo feels his heartbeat slow and return to a much more normal pace and his shoulders stop shaking and his lungs stop heaving for every single breath.

“Fuck,” he says. “I…” He crumples his hands into fists, fingernails digging into the dirt. “I’m sorry. I’m a mess.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Kai says gently.

Kuroo pounds his fist weakly against the ground. His voice is hoarse and feeble, broken and dejected. “I just wish...I just wish I could have fought for it. I just wish I had told him, ‘No, I won’t let this end here. I don’t want to let you go that easily. I…’” Kuroo shakes his head. “I should have told him that I love him and that I could prove it. I should have been better. But I wasn’t. I…” Kuroo trails off and doesn’t continue.

Kai reaches out and pushes Kuroo’s head gently onto his shoulder. Kuroo sniffs before he closes his eyes and relaxes against Kai. A few minutes pass. Aside from the occasional sniff, Kuroo is silent and motionless. A few moments later, his body goes limp in his friend’s arms.

Kai looks up to meet Yaku’s eyes. They look at each other strangely, full of mixed thoughts and emotions, before Kai peels Kuroo off of him slowly and motions for Yaku to help him. Yaku helps put Kuroo into a piggyback position behind Kai before he carries him to a nearby park. Once there, they sit him down on a bench and sigh heavily.

“I’ll call a cab,” Kai volunteers, phone already in his hand.

“What do we do?” Yaku asks in a low voice after Kai’s done. “About what he just said, that is.”

“Hmm.” Kai stares thoughtfully down at Kuroo. “Kenma hasn’t told anyone, I think.”

“Did you…” Yaku sighs and rubs the back of his neck. “Did you suspect too?”

“Of course I did. But nothing as extreme as this.”

They lapse into silence and wait for the cab, watching the minutes tick by on the large park clock before their cab arrives and they pile Kuroo into it as best as they can, trying not to make eye contact with their driver as they pull Kuroo’s wallet from out of his pocket and sift through his cards to try and find his address.

Roughly forty minutes later, they fumble for Kuroo’s keys and unlock the door to his apartment. They take off theirs and Kuroo’s shoes and painstakingly remove his jacket and tie before they lay him down on his bed and leave a bucket on the floor just in case. After a quick assessment of the contents of Kuroo’s fridge and coming to the conclusion that none of it is going to help, Yaku stays behind to look after Kuroo while Kai makes a quick trip to the nearby convenience store. Ten minutes later, they have a little care package of pineapple juice, pain relievers, steamed meat buns, onigiri and a tall glass of water from the kitchen, covering everything up with foil and plastic for good measure and leaving a sticky note on top explaining what happened and telling him to call them the moment he wakes up.

They leave out the part about him breaking down in tears and sobbing about Kenma.

They turn off the lights before they leave, leaving only the one in the bedroom on, and double check to make sure that they’ve locked the door before they close it behind them and spend at least a minute just standing there, wondering what they’re going to do now. 

“I won’t tell if you won’t,” Yaku says.

Kai looks conflicted, a deep frown etched into his face.

“I mean.” Yaku shrugs. “He was drunk. It slipped out. He probably never wanted us or anyone else to find out, ever. And if Kenma isn’t saying anything either, then it’s probably true.”

Kai nods. “Do you think they’ll ever be ready to tell us?”

“Who knows? But I don’t think it’s our place to tell everyone else.”

“You’re right.” Kai sighs. “I just wish they could have told us sooner.”

They walk all the way to the convenience store where Yaku buys them both a can of juice from a vending machine.

“What a night huh,” Yaku muses.

Kai chuckles and sips his drink. “Not exactly how I expected my Wednesday to go, I’ll admit.”

They stay that way for a couple more minutes before the cab Kai had called beforehand arrives and they both get in, driving away into the night.

****

Kuroo wakes up the next morning with a pounding in his head and a soreness in his limbs. His mouth feels and tastes gross and the sound of his phone alarm is sharp and grating in his ears. He silences it with one lazy swipe of his finger and groans as he sits up in bed. 

His skin feels sticky with sweat and his clothes feel too abrasive on his skin. He pulls his shirt off and tosses it towards the general direction of the laundry basket. He doesn’t look to see if it gets in. 

He looks towards his bedside table where Kai and Yaku’s care package lies and reads through the note they left him. He takes one of the painkillers then grabs the can of pineapple juice, nearly downing it all in one gulp. He wipes the corner of his mouth before he lies back down and stares up at the ceiling, trying to remember what exactly had happened.

He doesn’t remember much and what he does remember comes in a blur of colors and faces. He remembers the izakaya with his co-workers. Then the bar with Kai and Yaku. He remembers talking about the match, among other things. And then…

Kuroo nearly stops breathing. 

He grabs his phone and with fumbling fingers opens their group chat. He asks, in the most coherent and intelligible way that he can in his current state, what exactly happened before Kai and Yaku delivered him to his apartment.

Everything after they left the bar is a blurry mess but his eyes feel dry for some reason and there’s dirt underneath his fingernails and dubious stains on his pants and there’s one name on the tip of his tongue and a deep sense of regret that tells him that he might have fucked up even when he doesn’t remember how.

Kai and Yaku reply almost immediately and tell him in their own different ways that he doesn’t need to worry; he didn’t give away his credit card number or impulsively purchased anything online or said anything really embarrassing or incriminating. He might have cried but it was all over something small and inconsequential.

Kuroo wants to ask if he talked about Kenma but neither Kai nor Yaku bring it up. Some creeping feeling is telling Kuroo that maybe he did talk about Kenma and maybe that’s why he feels more shitty than he normally does when he’s hungover. But he realizes that Kai and Yaku are giving him a way out by not mentioning it and he decides to take it.

He thanks them for what they’ve done and promises to return the favor before they both advise him to take the day off and get plenty of rest and to stay hydrated. 

Kuroo takes their advice and calls his work to take a sick day, claiming a really upset stomach. Not technically a lie. Then he sits in bed and eats one of the steamed buns his friends had left him and wonders what he’s going to do once this hangover goes away which is hopefully going to be soon.

He stares down at the meat bun for a long moment and thinks about how much he wants to see Kenma right then and there. But he brushes it off as an unfortunate side effect of the hangover and finishes eating, watching the slowly rotating hands of his wall clock and wishing that he could count anything else.

****

Kuroo isn’t sure how much champagne he’s had in the past half hour but he’s not about to start keeping track.

All he knows is that at no point in the rest of this evening does he want his glass to be completely empty. He finds one abandoned champagne bottle at the buffet table and proceeds to monopolize it, coming back to it every once in a while for a refill.

After Kenma had gone off on his own, the music changed into something bright and livelier, more disco-like. Someone had turned on multi-colored strobe lights from the ceiling and the whole dance floor looks like a rowdy, colorful mess.

Kuroo tries his best to have a good time. He desperately wants to be having a good time right now. But Kenma running off had left him with a heavy sort of feeling, filled half with regret and the other half frustration. He’s not even sure what exactly he’s frustrated about - the fact that he said what he said or that Kenma ran away from it. Like he always does, he thinks bitterly before he slaps that thought out of his head for good.

It isn’t Kenma’s fault, Kuroo reminds himself. None of it is. 

But it’s too late to take back anything that Kuroo said. It had been simmering in the back of his mind this whole time, just waiting to be set free. He had been scared of even voicing it aloud to anyone, afraid that he’d only be met with ridicule or rejection. But somehow, as he held Kenma in his arms, as he whispered into his ear and delighted at the way he had shivered against him, a strange kind of bravery overtook him and drowned out whatever common sense he had. Because he’s sick of playing pretend, sick of acting like all of this isn’t real. 

He had meant it when he said that with Kenma, it’s all too easy. It’s easy to lose himself in visions of the past and in thoughts of the future. It’s easy to throw caution to the wind and abandon all pretense and fear and just say what he’s been meaning to say. It’s easy to “act,” if this is really all an act to Kenma, like he cares, like he’s happy, like Kenma is his and his alone. And after hearing Kenma’s speech, it makes him think, gives him hope, that maybe this time, this time for sure, they might get it right. 

But those are the exact kind of thoughts that he wants to avoid right now so he takes another swig of champagne before he goes to refill his glass at the buffet table. Before he gets there, he’s intercepted by a violently swinging Bokuto who comes swooping towards him like a black and white bullet.

“Kuroo!” Bokuto shouts, making Kuroo jump and cry out. “Hey, why aren’t you dancing? Where’s Kenma?”

“Ah.” Kuroo laughs and scratches the back of his neck. “He got tired. You know how he is. Probably saving his energy for the after-party. What about you? Where’s Akaashi?”

Bokuto shrugs and goes to stand beside him. “He went out to take a call from Udai-san but then he said that he was pretty tired when he came back from that.”

Kuroo raises his glass to Bokuto. “To our low energy, introverted partners, right?”

Bokuto laughs. “Hey, tell Kenma that I thought his speech was neat! Especially for something he made up on the fly. That was really...uh, ‘introspective’, is the word Keiji used.”

“Yeah.” Kuroo sips. “It was...something.”

Bokuto stares at him long and hard, enough to be disconcerting. “What?” Kuroo asks.

“You okay?” Bokuto asks with a frown. “You seem sort of down.”

“Do I?” Kuroo takes another sip of his champagne.

“Yeah. Kind of introspective. Did I use that word right?”

Kuroo laughs. “Nah, I’m fine. Also yes, you did. Akaashi would be proud.”

Kuroo turns his head to watch the dance floor but he can feel Bokuto’s gaze still on him, the beginnings of a question in the air.

“Is this about Kenma?” Bokuto asks.

Kuroo doesn’t look at him. “What would make you think that?”

Bokuto shrugs his shoulders. “I don’t know, just...Things have been weird between you two lately. Like, it just felt, sort of, weird. I don’t know how exactly to say it but it was just...off. And not just recently, way way back too.”

Kuroo looks at him, face grim. “How far back?”

“Like...I don’t know, way back! Like when Hinata came back from Brazil back, I think. That’s when things started feeling really weird to me about you two.”

“How do you mean, weird?”

“Like something wasn’t right. I mean, no offense of course and I might be totally off the mark but sometime after you kept telling us that Kenma couldn’t make it to stuff for whatever reason but you were still there for whatever reason, it started feeling off.”

Kuroo grimaces. Of course it did. Their friends aren’t dumb. Benefit of the doubt could only get them so far.

Kuroo sighs and finishes his entire glass in one gulp. If he’s going to do this now, might as well.

“Look, Bokuto, I...I mean, we need to tell you something.”

Bokuto’s eyes go wide. “Uh-oh. What is it?”

“‘Scuse me!”

Both Kuroo and Bokuto turn in surprise as Yaku comes up behind Kuroo and tries to reach up and sling his arm around his shoulders only to be unsuccessful and resorting to putting his arm around Kuroo’s instead. He smiles brightly at Bokuto. “Would you excuse us for just one moment?”

Bokuto blinks. “Um, sure, Yakkun一”

“Great. Thanks!” Yaku steers Kuroo around and away, leading him away from the dance floor towards the back of the room where the sound booth is, away from prying eyes.

“Whoa Yakkun, what’s the big deal?” Kuroo asks.

Yaku glares up at him. “Oh you know damn right what the big deal is. I saw Kenma run off in the middle of the dance. What exactly is going on here?”

Kuroo sighs and runs a hand through his hair. “Look, it’s nothing big, he just got tired and he…” Kuroo trails off after he sees the one judgmental eyebrow Yaku raises and sighs again. “Come on Yakkun, it’s nothing.”

Yaku eyes the glass in Kuroo’s hand and gingerly lifts it out before setting it aside on a nearby table.

“You need to stop lying,” he says with his arms folded over his chest. “I know when you’re just pretending, Kuroo, and right now, you’re not being honest with yourself, with me, and especially not with Kenma.”

Kuroo tries to stare him down, tries to smile and shake his head and deny that there’s anything going on, but one stone-cold look from Yaku’s eyes and he starts to feel his resolve crumble away.

Kuroo sighs and bends his head. “So you do know.”

“Yes, of course I know!”

“For how long?”

“Ever since you got drunk that one night and me and Kai had to drag you around like a dead body while you sobbed about Kenma leaving you.”

“...Ah.”

Yaku waves his hand around. “But back to the point. What exactly do you plan to do about this?”

Kuroo shrugs and laughs bitterly. “I honestly don’t know.”

Yaku scowls. “How can you not know? You’re here with a plan, aren’t you? I’m not sure whose idea it was, if it was yours or Kenma’s, but you two are obviously putting up an act for a reason.”

“Okay, firstly, for the record, it was Kenma’s idea so you can’t blame me. And secondly, we didn’t really have a plan more so than we had a general idea of what we wanted to do.”

Yaku gives him a look. “So what you’re saying is, you don’t have a plan.”

Kuroo shrugs. “Sure. Let’s go with that.”

Yaku sighs and brings a hand up to his forehead. “I don’t know why I even bother. Okay, look.” He reaches up and grabs Kuroo by the shoulders, pushing him down to bend their knees till they’re at eye level.

Yaku gives Kuroo a firm look and speaks to him calmly but sternly. “You need to be honest with yourself and with Kenma. If you care about him at all, then you’ll do something about this before it gets out of hand. I don’t care if you have to call this whole act off or if you two talk it out behind the scenes, you can’t keep hurting yourself and Kenma like this.”

Kuroo is quiet for a long moment before he sighs and shakes his head. “It’s not as easy as you think it will be, Yakkun.”

“Oh yeah?” Yaku says. “Try me.”

Kuroo scoffs and straightens back up to his full height, shrugging Yaku’s hands off in the process. “I can’t.”

“You can’t or you won’t?”

“I can’t! I won’t! I一” Kuroo runs his hands through his hair again and sighs. “Look, I...I don’t know if I can be honest with Kenma that way just yet. I’m...afraid.”

Yaku’s face is inscrutable. “Afraid of what?”

“I don’t know, I’m just...afraid. Like...you saw how I was after we broke up, and that was three years after! Three years! I had three years to get over him and I didn’t. Saw other people, slept around a bit, still didn't get over him. Now it’s been four years and I’m still here. I’m still thinking about him, I’m still pretending that I’m fine, I still...I still want him back.”

The last statement comes out a bit choked up, feeble almost, and Yaku’s expression softens and turns a bit sympathetic. He sighs and reaches out to pat Kuroo’s arm.

“That’s exactly why you need to be honest with him,” Yaku says. “Just have it all out. And then afterwards, who knows, maybe you won’t feel that way anymore.”

Kuroo scoffs wryly. “I don’t think I’m ever going to not feel the way I do about Kenma.”

Yaku’s smile is just a little bit encouraging. “I know. But that’s not a reason why you shouldn’t be honest about it.” He pauses. “You can’t keep staying in one place forever. Eventually, you’re going to have to move.”

“But what if I don’t want to move?”

“Oh you will.” The sternness is back in Yaku’s tone. “One way or another, you will have to move, or else the whole world is going to keep spinning without you and you’ll be left behind.”

Kuroo sighs and nods. “I...still don’t know if I can do it, Yakkun. I mean, what if he doesn’t feel the same way anymore?”

Yaku raises his eyebrows. “Then you’re more of an idiot than I gave you credit for.”

Kuroo frowns. “What?”

“Nothing.” Yaku waves his hand dismissively. “What does it matter how Kenma feels?” He stops then inhales sharply. “That came out weird. I meant to say, whatever way Kenma feels about things, you still have to tell him. And then, maybe, the both of you can start to move on.”

“Move on.” The words carry a strange weight to Kuroo, both threatening and comforting at the same time. “Is that your whole agenda, to get us to move on?”

Yaku rolls his eyes. “Have you even been listening to me this entire time? God, you two are going to give me a ton of gray hairs at this rate.”

“Just saying, nobody asked you to do this.”

“But I’m going to do it anyway!” Yaku retorts. “Because someone has to and because you two are my friends.”

Kuroo shakes his head and stares down at his shoes. “Look, Yakkun, I don’t think now is the time for this.”

Yaku scoffs. “Is it ever? If you don’t do this now, then when?”

“I don’t know. Maybe never.”

“Kuroo一”

“Look, you can say whatever you want about being our friend and doing this for our own good, but in the end, all you’re doing is meddling into other people’s affairs like some...meddler, or whatever.”

“Meddling?” Yaku glares at him. “That’s rich, coming from someone who dragged his friends into a bar one night and had to be carried home!”

Kuroo opens his mouth, a retort ready on his tongue, before he closes it and shakes his head. “We’re getting nowhere with this. You should go. Lev must be feeling lonely out there.”

“Kuroo.” Yaku grabs his arm and makes him look squarely at him. “I know you still feel guilty for what happened. You keep beating yourself up for your mistakes and you know what, maybe you’re right. Maybe it was all your fault. I don’t know the full story.”

Kuroo grimaces. “Gee thanks, Yakkun.”

“But if all you’re going to do with that guilt is wallow in it and cry out for pity, then nothing will ever change. You’ll just keep being that same idiot who made those idiotic mistakes.”

“Then what should I do?” Kuroo asks, voice just a little bit hoarse. “What do I do with all this guilt, Yakkun? ‘Cause I’ve been looking for an answer this whole time and still haven’t found it.”

Yaku draws back and sighs, though he keeps his grip on Kuroo’s arm. When he looks at Kuroo again, his gaze is hardened and neutral. “You get up on your feet and try to do better. That’s it. No more excuses, no more self-pity. Just do better.”

Kuroo gapes at Yaku for a long time, his words slowly starting to sink into his drink-addled mind. Then Yaku sighs again.

“At least think about what I said.” And then Yaku lets go and marches off back onto the dance floor. 

Kuroo stares after him for a moment, sighs then goes to pick up his glass from where Yaku had left it on the table. He empties its remaining contents down his throat then goes looking for some more.

His hunt for more drinks brings him to the side of the dance floor where they’ve started serving wine. It’s not as good as the champagne they were serving but it’ll do. 

“Ah, Kuroo-san, good evening.”

Kuroo looks up in the middle of pouring himself another glass and meets the oblivious eyes of none other than Kageyama Tobio, standing there with his own empty glass.

“Kageyama,” Kuroo says, surprised that he’d even find him here. He stops just before he pours too much wine into his cup and sets it aside. “Uh, here, let me get that for you.”

Kageyama blinks. “Oh. Thank you.” He hands over his own glass and Kuroo fills it half full before he gives it back.

Kageyama takes it with a small grateful nod before his eyes fall on Kuroo’s own glass. “That’s a lot of wine you’re having.” His manner of speaking is polite, in a sort of uncaring way.

Kuroo laughs wryly as he picks it up again. “Yeah, well.” He takes one long hard drink. “Congratulations by the way,” he tells Kageyama afterwards. “How does it feel to be finally married?”

Kageyama chuckles a little, a rare sight. He stands just as awkwardly as he usually does off the court, the charisma and presence that he usually has when he’s playing volleyball completely gone. One hand seems permanently clenched at his side and he sips his wine in an almost awkward manner, as if he’s not sure how most people drink wine in the first place.

“It’s funny,” he replies. “People haven’t stopped asking me that since it happened but I just feel the same I always have.”

Kuroo nods. “Hm. I guess marriage doesn’t change you immediately. What about Shrimpy? Anything different with him?”

“Shouyo?” Kageyama says and Kuroo is momentarily caught off guard by the sudden first name basis. Kageyama scoffs. “That dumbass won’t stop talking about how things are going to change from now on.” He can’t keep the fond smile off his face. “He’s more excited about it than I am.”

Kuroo smiles. “Nice to see that Shrimpy hasn’t changed.”

“Yes.” Kageyama nods. “I wouldn’t have married him if he did. Change, I mean.”

They both sip their wine in silence for a while before Kuroo clears his throat and asks, “Won’t your new husband miss you on the dance floor?”

“Oh.” Kageyama laughs and actually blushes. “He’s busy introducing his sister to every V. League player he knows. She’s become a very promising player herself. Although, she’s a bit disappointed that Amanai-san from the women’s team couldn’t make it.”

“Ahh that’s too bad.”

They lapse into another long silence until Kuroo can’t take it anymore. That, or it’s the alcohol egging him on. Either way, he turns to Kageyama and says, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

Kageyama blinks. “Sure, Kuroo-san.”

“You and Shrimpy don’t seem like you get along at first. Like, you’re always at each other’s throats, calling each other dumbasses, fighting about this and that.”

Kageyama looks affronted. “Well, I—“

“But then,” Kuroo ignores him and continues, “when you two work together, even when you’re not on the same team, there’s this undeniable connection and now here you are, married to each other, and it’s astounding how well you two go together and I just…How exactly do you make it work? How do you get those days where you fight and disagree but still…” 

He trails off, seeing the wide-eyed look on Kageyama’s face, and sighs. “You know what, forget it. Sorry.”

“No, it’s…” Kageyama shakes his head. “It’s okay, Kuroo-san.” He sips his wine.

“So?” Kuroo asks anyway, looking at him expectantly. “How do you do it?”

Kageyama blinks at him. “We just do.”

“What?”

“We just work it out somehow,” Kageyama says simply. “Don’t you and Kozume-san do the same?”

Kuroo laughs. “Buddy, you have no idea.”

Kageyama frowns. “What’s so strange about just working it out even when you both don’t always see eye to eye?”

Kuroo stares at him before he shakes his head. “It can’t be that simple.”

“That’s what we always think at first but you’ll find that once you talk, it all seems so simple in the end.”

Kuroo gives him a skeptical look but Kageyama only continues, “We might not agree on everything and we fight and we argue and we call each other dumbasses, but after all that is through, we apologize and do better. Because in the end, it’s Shouyo I want to spend my future with. It’s Shouyo who I want beside me and who I’ll always be there for. Once I realize that, then I’ll want to work it out with him. We work out compromises and do our best to find common ground because in the end, we only have each other to rely on, and if we can’t rely on each other, then who else do we have?”

Kageyama pauses then says, “Well, that is, aside from our friends and our family, but my point is - Shouyo deserves someone who’ll listen to what he needs, who’ll try their hardest to be a better person every time they mess up, and I know I can expect the same from him when he messes up. Because when you love someone, wouldn’t you want to do whatever it takes to make it work before you just give up?”

Something changes in Kuroo’s expression, whether it’s surprise at the unusually simple but wise words Kageyama is saying or if it’s somehow struck a chord with him, he’s not entirely sure.

“I mean,” Kageyama continues with a casual  shrug of his shoulders, “Kozume-san said it in his speech. No relationship is ever perfect. All we can do is keep compromising and improving whenever we mess up. And we may mess up a lot but we still stay.”

“Why do you stay?” Kuroo asks.

Kageyama looks down into his wine and smiles, small and soft. “We stay because we wouldn’t want to be anywhere else. Because we want to make each other better and happier. We stay…because we just want to. If you really love them, wouldn’t you want them to stay?” Kageyama looks up and meets Kuroo’s gaze. “Don’t you feel the same way about someone, Kuroo-san?”

Kuroo sways in his spot. The wine in his mouth suddenly tastes more bitter but he smiles through it and gives a small, gruff laugh. Kageyama looks at him curiously. 

“Yeah,” Kuroo says after a while, eyes on the floor. “Yeah, I do.”