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The door to the little coffee shop opens and the tarnished little golden bells ring out. The air is crisp and clear, warm, tinged with the scent of fresh coffee and spiced cookies, and Kuroo Tetsuro steps into the shop. Dark eyes scanning the light walls, covered in chalkboards, each one scrawled in white chalk with a menu he knows hasn’t changed in the three years.
He sighs, drinking in the sight and relaxing, and breathes. He closes his eyes and thinks that if he listens hard enough he would be able to hear them, their voices ringing out with the little bell on the door. He inhales and opens his eyes.He steps up to the counter and orders, mouth moving before he had even really thought about—though he hadn’t needed to think about it. It was what yaku had once called his “evil and disgusting sludge” with a sharp grin, and tags on one of yaku’s sugary monstrosity to the end of his order.
He reaches into his wallet to pay, but before he can, a buzz from his phone stops him in his tracks, and he looks down and he remembers, sharp grin falling into something faker–more saccharine .
Yaku is gone. Yaku is gone and he won’t see him for at least a year. Kuroo bites his lip, hoping to swallow back some of the loneliness that accompanies that thought, pushing away the uncomfortable weirdness of being only one, and even though he had been one before, now that he was once a trio… But quickly, almost too quickly, he laughs awkwardly and runs his hand through his messy hair, and apologies
“ I’m so sorry ma’am, can I get that last part removed, please?”
The woman across the counter smiles gently, sympathetically even, and says
“Oh it’s perfectly fine, happens all the time.”
It would be , Kuroo muses, if it hadn’t been happening all the time. Seriously, it was starting to get embarrassing—it wasn’t like Yaku was dead, just in a different country.
He hands over his money to the woman, and steps away from the counter. And when he walks over to a familiar little table that has three books stacked on top of it, with three chairs by the window, and drops into a little velvet blue green chair, he avoids looking at the books entirely.
‘ The first time he came here. It was when Kai was on his “get kuroo and yaku to get along” crusade. Kuroo had been all but dragged by his shirt into the cafe, knuckles white with apprehension, nerves, dragging his feet the whole way. Him AND Yaku. “But whyyy” he groaned out “it's all fine now, and I-we have other things to do anyways–”. He kicked Yaku’s shin, and Yaku nodded, hands on his hips, clearly wanting to get out of this just as much as Kuroo had. But Kai had just rolled eyes, clearly holding in a sigh or something akin to it,
“ – just humor me”
Yaku had sighed, and his shoulders dropped in resignation but his catlike eyes were curiously flashing towards the doors. Kuroo himself mutters about “being kidnapped by a madman” but lets himself follow the other two into the shop’
Kuroo chuckles quietly thinking on the memory, Oh if only he knew . He hears his name being called by the woman at the counter and stands, walking towards the counter, glancing around the room.
‘Kai steps up to the counter with a knowing smile, and orders a lavender oolong tea, and pays with a soft smile and polite thanks, and then says to the Barista
“Oh please don’t mind them”
Kuroo rolls his eyes, which Yaku catches and snorts, saying “Come on, Kai, we aren’t THAT bad”. Kuroo hesitates before he huffs at that, then jabs, saying “Careful Yakkun, you almost sound like you’re defending me there…”
“I’m not, roosterhead” he grins, like a cat that got the cream, “ I’m defending uS—AND DON’T CALL ME THAT”
Kuroo grins and scans the chalkboard menus, overlaid on the cream colored walls, unfamiliar with most of the items, before he settles on something he knows.’
“ Whatever you say, Yakkun” He steps up to the counter “One black coffee please”
Kuroo–the Kuroo of now, smiles fondly at the sepia colored memories as he picks up his coffee, filled with warmth, either from nostalgia or something else, though it may just be his coffee. When he looks at the Barista who handed him the drink, he looks at her, really looks and sees the tired set of her shoulders, the smiles that look like it's too much effort, but underneath the tired that constantly lines the body, he sees an energy–a challenge–he has only seen once. And when he takes her in, in those seconds he is reminded of—
—of Yaku.
‘Oh’ , he thinks and his thoughts drift away as he holds his coffee and settles back down.
He’s been here a lot since the first time, once what was a draining bonding experience between three ragtag teammates, had become a real friendship. Somewhere between the arguments about papers and racing each other in the rain, they had finished growing up together. What he clearly remembers is the first time they had stepped back in after their loss to Karasuno.
‘They had been hesitant ,’ he remembers, ‘ with Kuroo turning up 15 minutes earlier than they normally set on Saturdays, the sun about to begin its descent, while wondering if the others would turn up. He remembers the warmth that had threatened to choke him when they both showed up. The three of them silently slotting into the habits that had formed over the last three years. Kai and his calming tea, Yaku and his quest to try out the drinks. He wondered when he began to associate this shop with his friends.’
He sips his coffee slowly, blowing off a bit of the steam; and he smiles softly at the barista, and thanks her quietly, before it's scalding his tongue even if he’d never admit being accompanied out by the tinkling of the little bells, out in the crisp morning, basking in the sunlight.
The next time he forces himself into the cafe, he is panicking. He’s drowning in work- and his thoughts are too scattered to accomplish anything good.
‘ What if I don’t finish this? Will I get kicked out?’
‘I can’t afford to fail this class. What will I do?’
‘What if I can't figure it out, WHO am I if I can’t figure this out ?’
His eyes widened as he registered this thought, and distantly wondered if his grandmother would be disappointed. Would she stare, barely hiding the disapproval in her eyes? Would his grandfather kick him out, having finally decided to be rid of a mediocre nobody? What would Kenma say? Or Yaku and Kai? What would they say if he failed?
He clenches his fist around the strap of his bag and squeezes his eyes shut, and attempts to block out the thoughts that threaten to strangle him. His nails are threatening to break the skin of his palms and he can barely breathe. Then he hears a calm, clear, and deliberately steady voice
“I’d get you a coffee, but I’m going to make an executive call, and say absolutely not”
Her voice forces his back into the present and out of his head, and he takes a breath like the ones he used to take when he needed to center himself or focus during a game.
He cracks his eyes open and–
He knows this place, the warm lights bathing the place in an almost candle lit softness; the mix matched jewel tone fabrics on top off garage sale furniture telegraph a sense of comfort. Scuffed tables, stacked board games and books brought in and left by various patrons over the years. The handwritten menu never fails to catch his eyes, the tongue and cheek names that made him chuckle, Kai swearing he’d never order something with that name while hiding a grin behind his palm, Yaku stepping up to the counter with something like defiance on his face. He turns his head ever so slightly to avoid looking at a certain stack of books in the corner–not sure if he can even dare to glance over there. The loneliness is—
The girl clears her throat. He knows her.
He knows this, but can’t place her name, ‘I’ve probably never spoken to her before’ , he thinks, ‘but still, I know her.’
‘Her name is–’
‘Her name-’
In the time he had been standing there and mentally scrambling for the woman’s name, she’s since come around the counter holding a white mug, complete with a string and a bright yellow tag hanging off the side. Extending her hand, she gives him the cup. He takes it, glancing at the cup and then at her, waiting. She smiles a little awkwardly, so he lifts the cup and studies the tag, the cheerful little chamomile label seems to smile at him from the tag, he smells the floral scent, something he can’t quite put into words. The cup is warm in his hands, but he refrains from taking a sip.
“Wanna sit?” she asks, eyebrow raised as she half gestures towards the chairs by the window
He looks at her quizzically
“Don’t you have to work?”
She turns in a complete circle as if to say ‘who else is here’, and then starts towards the chair and he follows. She leads him to the familiar little table with three velvet chairs and drops into one chair, while he lowers himself into the other, tossing his bag onto the floor with his free hand and gently setting the cup down with the other, shoulders curling in as he lets go.
He plays with the tea bag, and the girl just looks at him, studying him. So he looks at her, slipping into his old analytical patterns.
She’s short, about 5’1, has brown hair with bangs and brown eyes. She seems moderately athletic, but her hands are covered in bandaids and old burns. Despite all of this, she carries herself with confidence and grace, and while her eyes seem gentle, he can see how it could easily turn into a playful grin within a mere tenth of a second. ‘ And he really, really should know her .’
So he reaches for his drink and takes a sip.
He winces, but swallows. ‘ The tea is hot, really hot, he realizes belatedly’
He looks up, and the woman is clearly holding back laughter, clearly at his expense. But she smiles softly, fondly, as if remembering something. He knows because Kenma kept commenting on the same expression on his face when they’d hung out a few months back.
“Maybe you should wait…I’m so sorry it was hot anyways. Actually,” she paused “just finish that tea first. Then we can talk.”
So he nods and sips the warm drink, physically calming him. He flexes his fingers, ignoring how his hands shake just a little. He forces himself to relax. He probably looks like a mess. He finishes his drink quickly, not wanting to make the other wait. She’s looking at the stack of books on the table, a mixture of amusement and curiosity praying at her eyes and mouth. She holds one up.
“The Count of Monte Cristo? Really” she rolls her eyes good naturedly
“It was my friend Yaku's. Took him months but when he finished he decided it would stand as a monument to his hard work” He huffs a little at the idea that he lost their little competition and a playful bitterness sticks still, but fondness for the other eclipses any other bemusement he still feels from that little game “you should’ve heard his rants about it”
They lapse into silence for a moment.
“Anyways” the girl says, previous amusement gone: “ are…I have no good way to say this…are you okay?” She cocks her head, assessing.
“Yeah. It’s nothing” he attempts to shrug, avoiding her eyes
“Nothing isn’t struggling to breathe” she says, matter of factly “Nor is it stumbling around like a blind man, Kuroo”
That shocks him, but even in his shock, he knows she, whoever she is, is right.
“It really isn’t much” he gets the words out “Just adjusting to new life, y’know?”
She hums, seeming to agree with him.
“Yeah that makes sense” she says “I feel the same way sometimes”
He waits, wondering if he should continue one, telling this to a near stranger, but he forges on
“ I just– I’m not sure what I want to do, and I still feel a little blind here” he smiles helplesslessly, he hates feeling like this. He’s Kuroo Tetsuro, steady on the court and off. He runs a hand through his hair, leaning back in the chair.
“Have you, like, taken a break yet?” She asks
He scoffs
“I don’t really have time for a break” or volleyball or friends , he mentally tags on.
‘That's the crux of it, probably. He feels overworked, yeah. But really, he misses his friends. Kai who was going to school to become an arborist, off all things, steady and kind. He knew what he wanted from life and could pursue it in a way only he could. Yaku, god kuroo missed him, was pursuing something great, something Kuroo himself hadn’t let himself dare to dream, and nothing could have been more fitting for him. Kenma hadn’t decided yet, but he would find his own way; He’s smart like that, and it’s not like he had ever really needed Kuroo. But he’s REALLY not going to tell her all that’
He meets her eyes because that's all he has to anchor himself in that moment. From across the table he sees something he thinks he might recognize in them.
“Yeah, I get that. But you aren’t falling behind or anything, you might need to take a break now and then” she grins “but if you’re anything like the guy I remember, you’ll be fine.”
And with that, the bell tinkles, announcing the entrance of another customer. She stands, hesitates a little before she smiles, and says
“ By the way, my name’s Mika, Mika Yamaka”
and heads over to get behind the counter.
His mouth drops open. Of all the people he had expected to run into in the future, Daisho Suguru’s on and off girlfriend had not been one of them. But the more he thought about it, it made sense. Kuroo takes a breath, grounding himself in the present, to himself, trying to shake off any thoughts of anything or anyone else, in the early afternoon light. He forces himself to relax his muscles and reaches for his bag. He pulls out his assignment that has been added onto his last minute stress, ducks his head and gets to work with the sound of laughter and soft chatter filling in the background.
If Kuroo Tetsuro said he didn’t know how he’d gotten here, he would’ve been a liar. His father raised many things, but a liar wasn’t one of them. It's late and pouring rain, he wasn’t sure why he’d left because the rain had started early and in all honesty he had forgotten, he had left the house in a whirlwind of
– anger, sadness, scared, unsure, numb -
That last one scared him the most. He shouldn’t have left like that with barely suppressed emotions threatening to boil over, an innocent question nearly turning into a fight, but it's not like Kenma's going to care. He’ll understand that Kuroo just needed a break anyway.
He steps inside the familiar shop, something warm washes over him, which is immediately replaced by a cold chill running down his body. Maybe it's the outside air meeting the warm, kindly shop, as chills wrack his body, but he knows he’ll get warm again.
Or maybe the warmth comes from his memories. He wonders briefly but doesn’t hesitate to step up to the counter and order a black coffee, hot.
He sits at their familiar table and breathes—
He needs to think .
Rationally, he knows he’s not doing well; that he needs to take a break. Of course Kenma’s right. He generally was i s when it comes to Tetsurou himself.
He hears his name called, and as he stands to get the drink, the warmth from the white paper cup bleeds into his palms, through the protector, almost burning his hands. It spreads into his chest. He basks in it for just a moment before his nerves adjust and everything returns to normal.
‘ His seat, their table ’ he marvels at the changes that have marked his life. ‘ His Mother and Sister ’ his phone buzzes, and he ignores it in favor of continuing his thoughts. ‘Kenma quietly walked in and refused to leave, Kai and Yaku dragging him kicking and screaming, Nekomata shoving him through the door. His teammates looking at him with so cocktails of emotions in their eyes’ So much has happened, but he has never been good at marking the moments.
His phone buzzes and he continues to ponder this, he ‘ doesn’t know when he became part of a whole, something that aches to think about. Something is missing. He misses them.’
He sips his drink, while a smirk etched into the lines of his face returns, the comfort and familiarity of the scent finally bringing a tone to his mind that he can leave. A clarity he needed.
He sits back and takes stock of the situation, which he had avoided. Had been avoiding for weeks, maybe months.
If he had listened.
His hair is sopping, still wet from the rain, even longer than it had even been in his life, covering his eye completely and falling into the other. He’s thinner and his muscles ache a little from disuse. Just a little.
And he’s tired.
Just so tired.
He feels like he could fall asleep for twenty years and still not have gotten enough rest.
He sighs again, no longer fighting the exhaustion that sits in the shoulders.
He takes a sip of his coffee, relishing in the taste. He ignores the damp feeling, either from his body or from his mind, he doesn’t know.
He shakes his head and finally, finally picks up his still buzzing phone huffing in annoyance.
2 message Bros
1 Missed call Kozucat
3 messages Kozucat
He opens the texts from Kenma first. Doesn’t want to think about the calls
Where did u go?
Mom wants to know if ur coming back to eat
And the most recent
You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.
His newfound peace washes away, replaced by shame–a hot, searing shame.
Coming from Kenma, those messages practically screamed his worry and anxiety, for both himself and his friend. That hadn’t even been an option to Kuroo. He must have been worse off then he thought if it had warranted a response from Kenma.
He decided to open the message from Kai, which said
Hey man sorry we haven’t caught up in awhile,
I’ve been swamped with work, but I’m sure you
Have been too. We should catch up sometime.
Then Kuroo sees the dots pop up in the chat and he wonders briefly what could come next, that nothing else could surprise him more than–
Where are you? Kenma’s worried.
The lump he had swallowed back is there again.
Because of course Kenma had reached out to Kai, knowing Kuroo, knowing his bond with Kai and Yaku was different; something that had always made Kenma a little uneasy–but he never said a word about it to Kuroo. But Kuroo knew.
Kuroo knew he had been drifting away from Kenma in the last year—drifting from everyone.
He groaned, the year’s mistakes crashing over him in an instant.
The messages ignored in favor of books, hangouts he had missed or slept through, get-togethers he was mentally absent from.
The searing shame is back, twisting knots into his stomach in a way he hasn’t felt since he was a little kid, he wants to throw up.
He doesn’t deserve his friends, they’re much too good for him.
But he reaches for his phone, responding to the message.
Hey it has been awhile. You’re all good
We should definitely catch up sometime
Then
The cafe
For them there was no other cafe, nowhere else that spoke companionship and warmth, at least for Kuroo himself.
Mentally shoving himself forward he looked at the message from Kenma and
Sorry I had to leave so suddenly, just needed a minute
I’m at a cafe in town
But I can come back if you and auntie want.
He puts down his phone as a shiver racks his body, the rain having left him uncomfortable, so he picks up his drink and curls up on his chair, looking at the stack of familiar books on the table, a new one resting on the bottom of the stack, and he closes his eyes.
He startles awake to the tinkling of the familiar little bell and the picture in front of him is so baffling he doesn’t understand it at first.
It’s Kenma in his stupid, endearing sweats tucked into his socks combination, hair tied up in half a bun, soaked in rain, eyes that are so unreasonably hard to read.
Kuroo rubs his eyes, unsure if he is really seeing this, But Kenma doesn’t disappear, so he must be real. Kenma raises an eyebrow, maybe confused, maybe he knows exactly what Kuroo is thinking, maybe he doesn’t. But either way, Kenma looks down, away from Kuroo
“I didn’t think you’d go out in the rain”
It's quiet for a moment, Kenma’s golden eyes studying him like it's the first time he’s seeing him.
Then
“You’re my friend”
The ‘of course I came’ is left unsaid. And Kuroo now somehow feels even worse because it's been forever since he’s seen his so-called 'best-friend’, since he’s been wrapped up in everything these past months.
He’s been so busy in the transition in school, living on his own, the work, missing his friends, that he’d somehow forgotten his oldest friend. The one who’d known him the longest, who remembered him as the shy little kid, hiding behind his dad’s legs, who could barely get a word out. The person who knew every little thing about him. And somehow, he'd forgotten.
“ I…”
He trailed off lost in thought
Kenma looks around, uncertain before he seems to steady himself.
“ Wanna come over and play Spectral Scream? My mom made you dessert… Or if you want you could just sleep.”
Kuroo raises his eyebrow, there goes Kenma, filling the silence just like he’s always done . Kenma continued
“ Also..my mom kinda misses you. So….”
Kuroo feels himself smile at that, and sees Kenma smile just a little. Kenma’s mother was the closest thing Kuroo had to a mother, after his own had left.
“How far have you gotten in the game?”
Kenma mumbled something a little before clearing his throat
“Haven’t started it yet. I wanted to play it with…someone”
Kuroo nods at that, understanding. Kenma was weird with Multiplayer games, he tended to pick a person to play with then tended to wait until they were ready to play.
Kenma’s eyes shifted away, taking in the cafe before settling on the stack of books. He smirks just a little
“I bet I can guess who left those here”
He eyes Kuroo, analyzing him, just a little
“Individually?”
“Yes.” Kenma says, a competitive, confident gleam in his eyes.
“200 yen says you can’t”
Kenma nods at that with a manic little grin.
“You’re on’
Kuroo hauls himself onto his feet and stands, gripping his now cold coffee.
He chugs it—because he paid for it
Kenma pulls his hoodie closer to his body, and says, almost as an afterthought
“I…I missed you”
Kuroo blinks, then smiles at his oldest friend
“I missed you, too.”
Kuroo scrolls through his contacts slowly before he finally lands on the one he’s looking for. His hand hovers over the call button.
He’s nervous. He can’t remember the last time he was nervous like this.
He hesitates, then breathes.
He hits the call button, and it only takes two rings before he hears
“Took you long enough” grumbled over the phone.
Kuroo smiles, then rolls his eyes
“ I missed you too, Yakkun”
The end