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It’s never been a secret that Kuroo likes Kenma.
Over the summer break of their 11th and 12th respective years, they are sent outside by Kenma’s grandparents. It is Kuroo’s fourth time spending a week with the extended Kozumes because two years prior it was discovered that both Kuroo and Kenma become a little unbearable when kept apart for too long. Kenma’s grandmother shoos them in the direction of a forest a short walk away from their home in the country, promising trees to climb along with a stream to play in.
Kenma sticks to dragging his feet beneath the shaded canopy and drawing shapes into the earth with a stick whenever Kuroo stops for more than a minute to poke at mushrooms, moss, and animal bones. They make it to the stream eventually, where Kuroo immediately shucks off his sandals to wade barefoot in the water. Kenma takes this break to find the driest spot he can so he can take a seat, briefly dipping his fingertips into the flowing stream before wiping them on his shirt and pulling out his Game Boy.
After a while, Kuroo sits next to him, wet from where he lost balance and fell backwards trying to avoid stepping on a fish. He does not say anything, which is not unusual, but Kenma can feel his stare and turns to look up at him.
Kuroo regards him for a touch too long before breaking into a boyish grin. “I have a crush on you,” he says simply, the same way he would say today was fun or the food was delicious.
“I’m a boy,” Kenma says, disjointed. He grips his Game Boy so hard he thinks it may launch from his hands, right into the water.
Kuroo shrugs. “But I think you’re pretty, and I like to be around you, and sometimes you make my heart beat faster.”
Kenma reaches a hand out to press two fingers against the side of Kuroo’s neck. He feels a speedy thrum beneath his fingertips and suddenly feels like he should have applied more sunscreen. “I’m a boy,” he says again, the only argument he can cling to, “I can’t be pretty.”
“Kenma, look me in the eyes right now and tell me Soma Cruz isn’t pretty.”
So Kenma looks him in the eyes, but can’t seem to find the words he thinks he should have, so he looks back down to where Samus is idling on the screen of his console. Kuroo laughs.
“That’s what I thought.” Kuroo is quiet then, for a second. “Is it okay? That I like you?”
Kenma gives him a sidelong glance. He thinks about Kuroo’s earnest eyes and the 30 centimetres of space between them, then he nods. Kuroo is his best friend, and Kenma doesn’t think there’s anything Kuroo could do that isn’t okay.
After that, almost nothing changes between them. Almost.
They still walk together to school, parting ways when they reach Kenma’s primary school and Kuroo has to start running to make it to junior high. Kenma still walks to Kuroo’s school to wait for him to finish volleyball practice. They still play Smash Bros in Kenma’s room and play volleyball under the bridge.
Except.
Except, one day, one of the girls at Kuroo’s school stops them just as they are leaving. She has dropped her bag and tennis racquet in her rush to reach Kuroo in time, and she has sweatbands on her wrist when she extends a hand with a letter.
“Please accept my confession!” She says, far too loud for Kenma’s taste, but he doesn’t move.
“Ah,” Kuroo reaches to rub the back of his neck. Nervous, Kenma thinks. “Thank you for the effort, Akame-chan, but I already have someone I like.”
Akame blushes a bright red. Kenma wonders how many shades behind her he is when she glances over at him and her eyes widen. “O-oh. I’m sorry to make it awkward,” she says (shouts) with a deep bow.
“Don’t worry about it!” Kuroo says, waving his hands in front of him. “You didn’t know. Maybe… think about Saboru-kun from now on.”
Akame sputters for a moment before nodding furiously and pivoting on her heel. Kuroo lets out a loud breath when she’s out of earshot. He cranes his neck to look at Kenma, offering him a bright grin. “Let’s go home.”
Kenma nods and lets Kuroo fall into step with him before he speaks up. “Your friend probably won’t be happy with you.”
“Saboru-kun? Eh, it’ll be fine. I’m just giving her a push in the right direction.” Kuroo leans forward until his face is level with Kenma’s. “I’m a master matchmaker,” he says with a mischievous glint in his eye.
“You don’t even have a girlfriend,” Kenma mumbles. He pulls his Game Boy out of his pocket and boots it up for the walk home.
“Kenma!” Kuroo shouts, aghast. He straightens in an instant and puts a hand to his heart. “How could I have a girlfriend if you’re the only one I think about?”
This time, Kenma does drop the console.
“Oh, shoot,” Kuroo drops to his knees to pick up Kenma’s Game Boy while Kenma himself processes what he heard. Kuroo dusts it off before gently placing it back in Kenma’s tensing fingers. “Um, sorry. If I made you uncomfortable…”
Kenma blinks. The Metal Gear Solid title screen flashes up at him. He’s not sure if he can look away from it. “No,” he says before he can think. “I was just… surprised.”
Kuroo hums. Kenma can hear the smile in his voice when he says, “Okay.”
And that’s that. Kuroo takes it as permission to be open about his feelings, but honestly, Kenma doesn’t mind. It’s a little stifling at first, the heat that crawls up his neck and the way he presses the D-pad too hard when Kuroo says something like I missed you today or Oh, this light makes you look really nice. Kenma gets used to it pretty quickly, though. Whether it’s because of the sheer volume that Kuroo gives compliments or mini-confessions, or because the uncomfortable heat has become more of a comforting blanket and the twitch of his fingers is a thrill he looks forward to, that’s something Kenma tries not to think about too hard.
Despite the familiarity that comes with Kuroo standing too close, talking too quietly, staring at him too softly, there is a heavy feeling that settles in Kenma’s chest in the winter of his second year. It tugs slightly at his heart when he witnesses the first snow of the year and he can’t place why or what it is. It festers into something bigger by mid-January, something that makes him feel restless and antsy whenever he looks at Kuroo. By the first of March, it’s reared its ugly head and Kenma’s become accustomed to it enough to realize that he is afraid.
It is the blunt feeling of fear that’s made a home in Kenma’s lungs whenever he thinks about Kuroo moving on to high school. Nekoma High, with the volleyball team Kuroo speaks about with stars in his eyes, with boys and girls who are cooler, older, and won’t constrict Kuroo to four walls and a TV screen. It is the sharp needling of anxiety over the thought that Kuroo will leave him behind. That there will no longer be a warm hand on the small of his back to guide him through streets. That there will be no more waking up to find Kuroo’s taken both pillows and wrapped them around his head, leaving Kenma with a stiff neck that day. That maybe, Kuroo will not look at him with a light flush across his cheeks, or not look at him at all.
As he worries his lip and bounces his leg, Kenma loses focus on the Smash game in front of him. He doesn’t realize that Kuroo’s stopped monologuing about the potential of coach Nekomata returning until he feels a hand on his knee. He whips his head up so fast that Kuroo flinches.
“Is something wrong?” Kuroo asks. His brow is furrowed and his thumb rubs gently over Kenma’s sweatpants in a comforting gesture.
“Kuro,” Kenma says, though he doesn’t know what to follow it with. What is he supposed to say? Kuro, please don’t leave me behind or Kuro, please don’t stop looking at me or Kuro, I hope you find something good at Nekoma.
The hand on Kenma’s knee withdraws itself, and his mind is briefly thrown into overdrive. All of his fears are coming true at once, a full month sooner than he was prepared for, Kuroo is going to walk out that door and never come back. Kenma will be alone again and, and, and.
And then the hand is back. This time, it rests delicately on the side of Kenma’s jaw and gently nudges his face so that he can look Kuroo in the eye. Kuroo is smiling a crooked grin, but his eyes are clear and seem to look straight into Kenma’s soul. “Kozume Kenma,” he says in a low voice, like Kenma’s name is a secret only he is privy to (Kenma doesn’t think that’s far from the truth). “I’m in love with you.”
Kenma doesn’t give himself the chance to blush. In a split second his hands reach to grasp the hem of Kuroo’s t-shirt and he digs his head into Kuroo’s shoulder. “Shut up. You’re only fifteen,” he says, the whole thing feeling a bit like deja vu.
Kuroo laughs, wrapping both arms around Kenma and dragging him down until they’re lying flat on Kenma’s bed. Kenma lands in an awkward position, so he shifts until he’s face down in the middle of Kuroo’s chest and their legs are entwined.
Kuroo laces his fingers together around Kenma’s back. “I know, isn’t it so cool that I found the one at this age? Everyone at school is going to be so jealous.”
They both know that isn’t what Kenma meant at all. The absurdity of the statement makes him snort. “Aren’t you going to get tired if I don’t return your feelings?” Kenma mumbles into the cotton of Kuroo’s shirt, so quietly that part of him hopes Kuroo doesn’t hear it.
Unfortunately for him, he knows Kuroo is ever attentive to everything he says. “Are you getting tired of my feelings?”
Kenma shakes his head.
“Then no, probably. If I can love you freely and stay by your side, then I’m happy.” Kenma’s fingers tighten in Kuroo’s shirt. “Hey,” Kuroo says. When Kenma looks up at him, Kuroo’s face is serious as he says, “Always be my best friend, okay?”
Kenma lets out a heavy breath, sinking into Kuroo completely. Of course Kuroo knew what to say, of course Kuroo caught on to what Kenma was trying to say. That’s how it works. Kenma thinks what Kuroo doesn’t, Kuroo says what Kenma can’t.
“Okay,” Kenma says and lets himself get lost in the lull of Kuroo’s breathing, feeling lighter than he has in months.
The two of them grow with the passage of time. Kuroo shoots up to 6’1 and sheds the baby fat on his cheeks and sides for a hard jaw and harder muscle, sheds any semblance of the shy kid he used to be for being team captain as well as a royal pain in Yaku’s side. Kenma lags behind him at a meagre 5’6, hair now blond but still falling in curtains around his eyes to narrow his field of view. He’s still quiet and lazy, but now sometimes he joins Taketora at the mall or studies at the library with Fukunaga.
Kuroo’s affections grow as well. Kuroo starts buying Kenma charms to hang off of his backpack for Christmas and a small apple pie from the fancy bakery half an hour away for Valentine’s day. He brings Kenma hand warmers every winter morning, and when Kenma scolds him for spending too much money on him, he carries Kenma’s backpack so Kenma can pull his arms into his coat to keep warm. He gets into a fight with a third year that goes out of his way to bump Kenma too hard in the halls. He becomes touchier, too, resting his arm across Kenma’s shoulders on long bus or wrapping his hand around his waist when Kenma’s too tired to stand.
Kenma thinks he gives back to Kuroo as well. He plucks the fish from his bento to place in Kuroo’s and takes his pickled ginger in return. He goes with Kuroo to hang out with Bokuto and Akaashi, despite Bokuto’s volume and general disposition. He offers advice on what universities to apply to, and support when Kuroo panics about not being smart enough to get into those universities. He takes Lev off Kuroo’s hands. Sometimes, he even tells Kuroo that he looks good to his face.
Some may regard these feats as the bare minimum of just being a friend, but there is a silent understanding between the two of them that these things are Kenma really pushing his comfort zone just to make Kuroo happy. They do. They make him smile beyond that stupid scheming smirk, eyes crinkling, joy clear in his body language. Maybe it’s a little self-serving because witnessing those things make Kenma happy too.
To some degree, it’s a little surprising that no one has ever mistaken them for a couple. Not openly, at least, or frequently, if Kenma discounts the way that girl who confessed to Kuroo looked at him or the way Lev’s word vomit gets noticeably worse whenever Kenma uses ‘we’ statements.
Kenma doesn’t expect Kuroo to react the way he does when the other shoe drops.
It’s at training camp with Karasuno, and it’s that tall first-year middle blocker’s fault, so Kenma has doubts about whether or not it was a real misunderstanding or simply virulence.
Kenma has given Shouyo control of his PS Vita during a break to eat and is leaning in close to him to offer pointers about Persona 4 Golden. He smiles whenever Shouyo defeats an enemy and throws his hands in the air with a ‘fuwaaah!’ To his right, Kuroo is very openly piling greens onto Kenma’s plate while conversing with Bokuto and Akaashi, to Shouyou’s left Yachi is enraptured with the game.
Tsukishima, who Kenma can only imagine subsists on a steady diet of salt and milk, only looks marginally smug when he passes by the 6 of them crowded around the stairs and says, “Careful, Kozume-san, any closer and your boyfriend might get jealous.”
This shuts even Bokuto up, but Shouyo does not seem to have that same tact. “Kenma! You have a boyfriend?” Shouyo says amazed, like he’s just learned Kenma can grow wings and fly.
“Kenma,” Kuroo says, significantly more strained than Shouyo, “You have a boyfriend?”
“Oh,” Tsukishima splays his fingers against his chest, mocking surprise. “Kuroo-san, aren’t you two dating.”
“Me?” Kuroo exclaims at a pitch he’s never reached before. “Dating Ke— Boyfriend?”
“Oh, well if it’s Kuroo-san, then I guess it makes sense,” Shouyo taps a thoughtful finger against his chin.
Kuroo lets out an inhuman sound. Bokuto claps him on the back.
“Kuro and I aren’t dating,” Kenma says. Kuroo hands his plate to Bokuto, then doubles over like he’s in pain.
Tsukishima’s face falls neutral, but there’s a very familiar glint of mischief in his eyes. “My bad, then.”
Once Tsukishima has walked off and Kuroo has regained the strength to stand straight, he turns to Kenma with a frown. “Killing blow. Just for that, you have to eat all your okura.”
Kenma narrows his eyes at him, suddenly suspicious. “Was this all a ploy to get me to eat vegetables?”
“No," Kuroo sniffs, "Everyone just hates me but I have to persevere and take care of you.”
Kuroo picks up a carrot slice with his chopsticks and holds it in front of Kenma’s mouth. Reluctantly, Kenma takes the carrot into his mouth before he picks up his own plate from where it’s been neglected at his side.
It sounds like the truth, but Kenma shoots a look Bokuto’s way for confirmation.
“Kuroo wouldn’t do that to himself, Tsukki’s just mad at him,” Bokuto says. "You know how Kuroo is."
Kenma does, so he believes him. He hums in response.
"How Kuroo is?" Kuroo says, incredulous. Both Kenma and Bokuto shovel food into their mouths to avoid answering. Akaashi turns his head away to hide his laughter. "No, guys, answer me. How am I? I gotta know."
Lunch wraps up with a gentle and good-natured ribbing, but Kuroo is off for the rest of the day. Just subtly so. He barks orders and baits Karasuno just like any other day, but he refrains from goading Tsukishima, his touch doesn’t linger on Kenma as long as it usually does, and he even ignores Shouyo a few times. It’s certainly strange behaviour, but Kenma knows that in this mood if he tried to bring it up Kuroo would only evade, so he tucks the information away for later.
Kuroo seems fine the next day, and the day after that, so Kenma doesn’t think about it too hard again. He ignores the inkling that maybe he had more to do with Kuroo’s behaviour than he’d like to admit.
It’s a rainy Saturday, which means that Kenma and Kuroo have spent the morning constructing a blanket fort. It’s an activity that had started to fend off a young Kuroo’s fear of thunderstorms but had snowballed into a tradition that held up long after Kurooo had figured out how cool thunder actually was. The sheets hung over Kenma’s TV, which had been moved to the floor beside his bed to offer them more space to lie down, as well as a better viewing angle for Kenma to play Dark Souls. He soaks in the ambiance of rain pitter-pattering against his window along with the dimness the fort provides. It’s pleasant.
More pleasant, possibly, is the warmth spread evenly on his back and around his arms. Kenma sits between Kuroo’s legs, leaning against him, and Kuroo uses his height and Kenma’s abysmal posture to hold a book about quantum ontology against Kenma’s chest, reading as Kenma games. The only light in the fort is from the TV which can’t possibly be good for Kuroo’s eyes, but he hasn’t complained yet. Kenma is glad he hasn’t needed to look at a controller to play since he was 13.
Every so often Kenma will die, tsking at the loss of more Souls than he’s comfortable with, and Kuroo will reach up to pet Kenma’s hair before turning the page of his book. Kuroo seems comfortable enough, nestled around Kenma with his chin in Kenma’s hair, so when Kenma loses 42 000 Souls permanently he takes this time to strike.
He sets his controller to the side, shifting a little so Kuroo can release him. Kenma sits up straight and turns around, hooking his legs over Kuroo’s thighs so he can’t escape.
“Why hello, gorgeous,” Kuroo says easily, smirking his shitty little smirk. Kenma’s kneejerk reaction is to glare. Kuroo laughs and tucks a stray strand of blond hair behind his ear.
Kenma takes a deep breath. “What happened at the training camp a couple of weeks ago?”
Kuroo cocks his head, smile not leaving his face. “We beat Karasuno into the dirt, I single-handedly taught Tsukki everything he’ll ever need to know, Yaku kicked Lev almost two feet into the air… You were there.”
“Kuro. I mean what happened with you. After Tsukishima…”
“Ah, that,” Kuroo says, smile less satisfied and more strained. “Well, you know how it is.”
Kenma’s brows furrow and he shakes his head. If he knew ‘how it was’, they wouldn’t be having this conversation.
Kuroo pauses and looks off to the side, a dead giveaway that he’s trying to find the right words. “I just got in my head a little. I started thinking about what it’d be like to be your… boyfriend, which is always a dangerous road. Then I started thinking about what it would be like if you really were into Chibi-chan, which wasn’t great either. I think I played it off well though.”
“Would you… actually be upset if I dated Shouyo?”
“It would take some getting used to,” Kuroo responds after another long moment. “But if you’re happy, I’m happy, I suppose. Are you interested in Chibi-chan, for real?”
Kenma likes Shouyo, sure. He’s never met someone that piqued his interest so much, so quickly. Even Kuroo took a few weeks for him to comfortably warm up to. He thinks, maybe, that over enough time Shouyo could become his best friend.
Romance, however, is a different beast. Kenma doesn’t often think about love or dating, simply because he feels little need to. He has no interest in going on dates with Shouyo or spending extended amounts of time with him. He doesn’t even really want to think about kissing him or, god forbid, sharing a bed with him.
The longer Kenma stays silent, the more wistful Kuroo's smile gets. Something in Kenma snaps, like a fraying rope that's been pulled taught for too long by the weight of something it was never strong enough to hold. Years of Kenma smothering his feelings because Kuroo's were so much easier to understand and deal with, all piling up and screaming at the back of his mind, Pay attention to us! Pay attention to us! A heart that has skipped a beat too many times, a stomach always full of a thousand butterflies, hands that yearn to reach out and touch, all constantly ignored because it was simply far too much effort to sort through his feelings and figure out how to act on them.
Kenma considers the way he goes to museums with Kuroo, Bokuto, and Akaashi, the way Kuroo is rarely ever out of arm’s reach. Kenma considers the way Kuroo kisses his temple on bad days, the way most days he wakes up to Kuroo breathing on the nape of his neck. Kenma considers Kuroo’s gentle eyes and the 10 centimetres of space between them.
7 centimetres of space.
4 centimetres.
Kenma lays his palms flat against Kuroo’s chest and gently touches their lips together, only using enough pressure to dignify it as a real kiss. He pulls back after a few seconds to find Kuroo staring at him, shell shocked.
Kuroo swallows forcefully enough that in the limited space Kenma can hear the gulp. “That’s a pretty fucked up way of letting me down gently if you and Hinata are together.”
They both pretend like Kuroo’s voice didn’t crack.
“I wouldn’t date Shouyo,” Kenma says. He picks at a stray piece of lint on Kuroo’s sweater. “I have you.”
“Kenma. What are you saying.”
“You’ve never asked me on a date,” Kenma says. He brings his hands up to Kuroo’s shoulds and grips at the fabric there to relieve some restlessness. “We went out a lot, but you never asked me out properly.”
“I didn’t want to pressure you. Should… Would you have said yes?”
Kenma bites his lip and shakes his head. He’s worried. Worried that if he confesses his true feelings, Kuroo will be furious with him, or worse. Worried that once Kuroo knows what he really thinks, he’ll lose interest. It’s irrational, so far removed from Kuroo’s character, but the anxiety digs into Kenma’s chest and makes him tighten his grip. “I’m selfish,” he starts, immediately wondering if he can take it back.
“I’m not following,” Kuroo says, stroking down Kenma’s back is soft, slow movements.
Kenma takes a deep breath. “I like it when you chase me. It makes me feel wanted. I like that you only look at me. But I didn’t realize how unfair that was to you until the training camp. Because.” Kenma releases the fabric in his hands and smooths it out against Kuroo’s shoulders. “Because you don’t know that I only look at you, too.”
“Kenma,” Kuroo says. He opens his mouth a few times, seemingly intending to say more, but nothing comes out.
“I thought that if you had no reason to chase me, you’d lose interest. In me. And I didn’t… I couldn’t…” Finally, Kenma runs out of words. It feels like the most he’s said all week.
“You sat next to the stream,” Kuroo says suddenly. It’s jarring enough that Kenma looks up at him. He is unprepared for how resolute Kuroo looks, brow set and eyes straight ahead. He doesn’t look upset, just honest. “When we were kids. You sat next to the stream instead of under a tree, even though there were bugs and frogs, and the water would splash you whenever I took a step. The shade was bad, and you kept squinting whenever the sun got in your eyes.”
“That’s a remarkable amount of detail,” Kenma quips.
This finally causes a smile to break out on Kuroo’s face, but he looks no less genuine when he says, “That was when I realized that I wanted to go on every adventure with you. You hate all of those things, but you dealt with them because you know I like it better when you’re close to me.”
Kenma remembers little about that particular day aside from the fuzzy vignette of Kuroo’s very first confession, how it made him feel like he had just run a mile. He always assumed his subconscious efforts to please Kuroo was something he picked up on later in life, but it doesn’t seem like a stretch to say that he’s always wanted to be the best for Kuroo.
“Kenma,” Kuroo reaches up to cradle Kenma’s jaw, thumb sweeping against his cheekbone. “Go on every adventure with me. Make them all interesting.”
“Are you asking me on a date?”
“Of course.”
“Okay,” Kenma says before leaning in again, this time the space between them clear of nerves and misunderstandings.
Kuroo kisses back this time too, lips responding eagerly against Kenma’s, the hand on Kenma’s waist pulling him impossibly closer. Kenma’s fingers curl against the base of Kuroo’s neck where he can faintly feel the thrum of Kuroo’s racing pulse.
Kuroo begins to pull back but Kenma chases him, pressing more pecks against his lips. It’s only when Kuroo smiles into the kiss that his actions catch up to him. Embarrassed, he pulls away and digs his head into the crook of Kuroo’s neck.
“Shit,” Kuroo says absently. “Am I going to have to thank Tsukki for this?”
Kenma rights himself so he can level Kuroo a displeased stare. “Please don’t bring him up after our first kiss.”
“Our first kiss! Kenma! I finally kissed you!” Kuroo looks genuinely gleeful but it doesn’t take long for another look to fall across his face, greasy and flirtatious. “And I’m about to do it again.”
Kuroo doesn’t get the chance, however, because Kenma shoves Kuroo’s face away with his hand and laughs so hard he falls backwards. “You’re so stupid,” he says when he catches his breath.
When Kenma looks up at him, Kuroo doesn’t look the slightest bit put off by the insult. Instead, he regards Kenma like he usually does; like Kenma himself hung the stars. “I love you,” he says.
Kenma covers his hands with his face. He’s long since gotten used to Kuroo’s proclamations of love, but he can’t help but hide himself for the first time he says, “I love you too.”
“You said it back!” Kuroo cheers in a way specifically designed to embarrass Kenma more. “So many firsts today! Please be gentle, Kenma, I’m still a virgin.”
Kenma snorts, “Suicide by words.”
“I said be gentle. You’re so mean, Kenma.”
“Am not.”
“Are too.”
“Am not.” Kenma lifts one of his legs off of Kuroo’s so he can shove his shoulder with his heel. Kuroo takes this opportunity to lean forward and hover over Kenma.
He leans down so their noses almost touch. Kenma’s eyes flutter halfway closed. “You are incredibly mean, and also rude,” Kuroo says instead.
Kenma rolls his eyes. “Just kiss me, stupid.”
“Oh? Kiss you stupid, you say?”
Kuroo’s grin is smothered when he leans the rest of the way down.