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“Is it gonna be much longer? Are we close?”
“Does it fucking matter, Lev? The bus isn’t about to blitz through rush hour traffic!”
Tetsurou drowned out the conversation in the rows behind him with sheer willpower.
Thankfully, he had gained plenty of practice on the drive here. The same couldn’t be said for the human lump sitting next to him. Kenma’s hand was the only part of him in motion, dragging a finger against his phone screen as he scrolled mindlessly. Tetsurou’s stolen headphones had been in his ears ever since the ten-minute mark of the trip.
On his half of the seat, Tetsurou flipped through a magazine. The title emblazoned in hot pink cursive lettering across the top of the newest page made him sit up straighter. Ever since buying the magazine, he’d been dreading making it to this particular page.
Yet if he was being honest, this quiz was half the reason he’d spent the money.
Tetsurou narrowed his eyes, peering down at the glossy print spread splashed across his lap as if it had done him grievous personal harm. Perhaps the article was about to – he didn’t know. No, he did know. Too many of these stupid experiments had gone wrong for him to rush in without girding his expectations in bubble wrap.
‘Are They *Really* Your BFF, Or Can You Go Deeper?’
Find out how close your bond is with this easy-to-navigate quiz!
Glaring at the title, he bit back a huff. Deeper. That right there was the problem.
Tetsurou did want to go deeper; he wanted to upgrade from friend to boyfriend. Imagined pain kept him from taking that leap and made him keep his fantasies tucked away inside his brain where they could only torment him. The last thing he wanted was to make a move on Kenma and have his attempt flop. And so, he had been poring through quizzes like this month after month, hoping one would give him the sign from the universe he coveted. Just a nudge saying they were highly compatible.
That’s all he needed. Maybe.
A confidence boost like that would help quell thirty percent of his nerves. Without that much reassurance, Tetsurou wasn’t sure when he’d manage to act.
Confessing to your best friend of nearly a decade wasn’t an easy feat.
Not that he knew what that felt like yet.
But he would.
As soon as one of these ridiculous articles turned out in his favor.
Reading magazines had started as a joke. A way to kill time on sticky summer days where the single, overworked fan in Kenma’s bedroom wasn’t enough to cool them down. If he couldn’t be comfortable, Tetsurou had resolved not to be bored. His first venture into periodicals had been a celebrity gossip rag that Kenma’s mother had left out on the coffee table.
Actors he didn’t recognize throwing shade at other performers he recognized even less hadn’t held his interest. Terrible and hilarious in a schadenfreude sense, but not an experience he cared to repeat.
In time, he’d found a better niche, ironically enough, in teen magazines. Whoever published them sure knew their demographic, because despite outward appearances, Tetsurou liked learning how to style his hair and dress well in between romantic tips and frothy quizzes. The hair parts were just a pipe dream now, but in the future, he was sure he’d level up enough to put the knowledge to good use.
He bumped his shoulder against Kenma’s. Nothing was going to come of it, because he always got shot down, but begging Kenma to do the quizzes with him had become a time-honored tradition.
“Hey.”
Kenma’s head lifted toward him.
“You look riveted by that playthrough comment section, but care to take a break?” Tetsurou asked, lips curling into a winsome smile.
“Not really.”
“Aww, not even for a couple minutes? I want you to do something for me.”
“I’m already doing something for you.”
Tetsurou’s smile dried up. “I didn’t sign the volleyball club application for you. You chose to be here.”
“You brought me a copy,” Kenma replied curtly. His cat-like eyes blinked at Tetsurou and flicked down to scan the magazine. Then he leaned back against the seat and slumped down it, making himself seem even smaller. “I don’t like those quizzes.”
That makes two of us.
“I remember, but for a little spice, do this one with me? It’s a special best friends edition.”
Kenma’s face scrunched intensely, making his opinion clear.
“Kenma.”
“Kuro.”
“Take the headphones out. I want to be sure you heard me,” Tetsurou said, arching a brow.
“Loud and clear.”
“And you still won’t? It’ll take five minutes, tops.”
“Answer the questions as if you’re me. You can tell me about how it goes later,” Kenma said, finger drifting back toward his phone screen.
Tetsurou groaned half-heartedly and looked out the bus window. Outside, the glare of multicolored lights and signs created an irritating canvas, and the swarm of people passing by on the sidewalk made him wonder how long it would take to creep through traffic to the hotel. Already, he felt drained, and there was still check-in and a couple of team matters to attend to before he could rest. And then there was the other baggage, like coping with the fact that he was a coward unable to say a couple of simple words to the person he wanted to spend forever with.
Which was nothing new, but it sucked to remember how lame he was.
Tetsurou let go of the magazine on one side to tap his fingers against his thigh.
The thing about their friendship was that it went both ways. Tetsurou knew Kenma. If they had been destined for anything more than the bond they already shared, there would be more clues. But nothing in the past year had made him wonder if Kenma might feel the same way he did. Everything in their interactions felt the same as it always had. Close, extremely fulfilling and supportive, but not romantic.
Speeding up the restless tapping, Tetsurou let out a sigh.
Was it wrong to want more? People drifted apart without rhyme or reason over time, so he knew he was lucky just having the same friend for so many years. It was hard to imagine Kenma and him not being friends, just like it was hard to imagine loving anyone else. He'd never felt that way for anyone else. At this point, he wasn't sure if he could.
Kenma’s attention snapped back.
“Are you okay?” he asked softly, lowering his volume even quieter than the usual scratchy rumble. His eyes flitted between Tetsurou and his phone. “You should go for a jog later.”
Tetsurou’s chest tightened. His fingers twitched where they held up the pages of the magazine. At once, he felt caught between the truth and the answer he felt comfortable giving. Both were valid; he just wished he had the courage to spill everything.
It wasn’t a bad suggestion to calm his nerves. But ultimately not an answer to his problems.
“No, I’m fine. Might run to the conbini if there’s one close. Want your usual snacks?”
Kenma nodded, still appraising him closely.
“Alright,” Tetsurou exhaled, and tried to rearrange his features into a normal set.
He wondered how deep Kenma was able to see through his façade. Probably, Kenma thought he was worked up about the tournament and their first game tomorrow. That was reasonable, and Tetsurou was concerned about how it would play out, but it didn’t make him anxious.
The upcoming match wasn’t why he felt his pulse beating double time in every part of his body.
Tetsurou stared down at the magazine in his lap.
When they were younger, feeling nervous was a common frame of mind for him. Over time, he grew out of that tendency. Tetsurou wondered if Kenma knew he was the only person with the power to get him flustered anymore.
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The hotel the team was staying in for the tournament was nothing special. Two stories of average rooms and bare minimum attempts at decorating in the form of fake plants and boring paintings. Perhaps its sole redeeming quality was the presence of Western-style beds, a luxury some but not all of the team members had at home.
Needless to say, excitement was running high when they arrived.
“I call dibs on the bed by the window!”
“I don’t mind. Whatever makes us all comfortable.”
Tetsurou said a silent prayer to the universe for Kai’s existence. Sometimes his friend felt too clearheaded to be real, but he never stopped being grateful for a buffer to the team’s rowdiness.
Once he’d finished the – as expected, totally heinous and wrong – friend compatibility quiz on the drive over, Tetsurou had turned his mind to room assignments. Given that they’d normally lodged in places with communal rooms and futons, he wasn’t sure how to approach it. He could let the guys assign themselves, but that was a recipe for chaos and too little sleep to play excellent volleyball on.
“Lev, you’re with Shibayama-”
“Thank fuck!” Yaku sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Finally, a player’s instinct overcame your need to make me suffer.”
Tetsurou quirked a lip in a half smirk.
Spoken too soon.
“Maybe I should reassign you, Yakkun? A little suffering builds character!”
“Shut your mouth, rooster head.”
“Aww, is that a yes I hear?” Tetsurou cooed, cupping a hand next to his ear.
Yaku spun toward him, eyes glinting with irritation. He stomped over, and Tetsurou braced for retribution. Yaku's hand yanked at his shirt as several of the other guys went quiet, watching the spectacle. But before Yaku could speak, the altercation was interrupted by a mousy voice.
“Excuse me, um, sirs?”
The devil on Tetsurou’s shoulder went silent. He looked to his left, ignoring the maintained grip on him. “Yes?”
“I deeply apologize, but there’s been an error with one of the rooms we booked for your group.”
Tetsurou frowned. Then again, an error didn’t sound like a major problem. Maybe one of the bathrooms was faulty or the cleaning service hadn’t finished turning the room over before they checked in. He doubted everything would turn out any other way than fine.
“The other rooms are like you asked for, but there’s a room that only has one bed. I apologize on the hotel’s behalf again – all of our spare futons are in use.”
He blinked, and did the math in his head.
Or maybe it was going to be less than fine, because he couldn’t imagine any scenario other than weaponizing Kai’s niceness to pair him off or making good on his threat to Yaku. If he made him share a bed with Lev, Tetsurou expected to be ripped a new one. The only possible solution would be to have someone in the single room sleep on the floor, sans futon. But then whoever the unlucky person was would be sore in the morning. Also not a great outcome.
He glanced down at Yaku.
“Don’t even think about it,” his friend gritted out through clenched teeth.
“We can share.”
A shiver soared up Tetsurou’s spine, and he nearly jumped as he sensed Kenma step into the front of the group beside him. Since when had he caught up? Better yet, why was Kenma talking and saying things that absolutely could not, under any circumstances, happen? Tetsurou’s internal alert system was screaming danger, and yet his throat felt locked up, unable to offer any protest.
Yaku’s hand released him.
Not knowing how to take any of this, Tetsurou’s eyes darted between his two friends, waiting for someone else to take the reins. He didn’t want to speak. Anything that came out of his mouth right now would be garbage-tier nonsense.
Share a bed with Kenma? All night? With the threat of shifting around and accidentally touching him? Or worse, waking up in the morning and seeing his beautiful, peaceful sleeping face? No. This was a trap, a trap Tetsurou fully intended not to get caught in. Not before he confessed and faced his potential acceptance or rejection. Then they could talk about bed-sharing. He wasn’t against the idea, but it was too soon.
Sweat began to bead at his temples and on the back of Tetsurou’s neck.
Kenma glanced at him. Immediately Tetsurou averted his eyes.
He didn’t trust his expression not to betray him.
His body was a traitor. A traitor who had on more than one morning imagined too vividly and made Tetsurou wake up panting, wet, and disappointed in his unconscious self’s lack of decency.
“We’ve known each other the longest. It won’t be weird,” Kenma clarified.
“If you’re okay with that,” he managed to force out. “I’ll sleep on the floor, maybe?”
He didn’t want to, but he would do it if that meant salvaging their friendship.
“Oh great! Thank you for understanding. Let me go grab the card keys for you all!” the hotel worker exclaimed in relief before dashing off.
“Don’t be stupid.”
Tetsurou heard the soft tap of fingers on a screen and chanced a look Kenma’s way. His expression was entirely neutral. At the sight, some of the nerves filtered away, and it felt like Tetsurou could breathe again. Kenma didn’t seem ruffled. Knowing him, that meant he wasn’t.
Weird as this situation was, Kenma was okay with it. Which meant that it was okay for him to be fine with it too.
“Okay. Then we’ll share. Everyone else, come see me for your room assignments once we have the keys,” Tetsurou said, feeling lightness settle over him. He rattled off the pairs in his head, trying to get it straight.
This was no big deal.
“Yakkun, you can be with Inuoka. Make sure he turns his phone off, or he’ll be texting late.”
“Okay, Mom,” Yaku muttered, but he didn’t sound that displeased.
At least not until a storm cloud passed over his expression as something occurred to him. One moment Yaku appeared normal and then he was grimacing, eyes squinting in suspicion toward him. Tetsurou frowned. What could he possibly have against that room assignment?
“You,” Yaku jabbed a finger in his face. “Behave yourself.”
His eyes moved toward Kenma, who was now shuffling over to the couches at the other end of the hotel lobby. Tetsurou followed his gaze, gauging the distance between them. Not in earshot, at least.
“I wouldn’t do anything.”
Yaku crossed his arms over his chest.
“Yeah, normally. But you get screwy when it comes to Kenma. I don’t trust you.”
Tetsurou frowned. “No, really. I can’t.”
Around them, the crowd was dispersing as the other guys wandered into their own smaller groups. Light music played from the speaker over the reception desk, a bubble pop tune that did nothing to quell the sudden surge of uncertainty in Tetsurou’s gut. His frown deepened, and he shifted on his feet restlessly until he heard a huff.
“I’ll say this once. I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” Yaku’s eyebrow twitched. “So consider putting us all out of our damn misery and talk to Kenma. He’s not going to blow up at you on the off chance he doesn’t like what you tell him.”
Tetsurou’s lips fell open, his mind turning over the advice. Then he let out a low hum.
“That’s almost great advice,” he teased lightly. Burying both hands in his pockets, he tried to hide how they kept clenching and unclenching.
Wanting to confess to Kenma, and even the aftermath wasn’t the problem. The scariest part was getting up the courage to say those words in the first place. That part, he couldn’t do anything about. There was nothing tangible that would make him feel ready. Which was why Tetsurou supposed he’d turned to the intangible with the quizzes and articles listing off ways to read the person you were crushing on. Logically, he knew it was ridiculous. But somehow, it made him feel like he was making progress, and he needed that reassurance.
Maybe he’d try one more quiz, from a fresh magazine.
If it gave him a good result, he would confess tonight. If it didn’t, then, well, he’d confess tomorrow.
Either way, it was probably best to stop prolonging the inevitable.
Kenma deserved to know what he meant to him.
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Considering how often he shopped at conveniences stores, it was shocking how they still felt like a liminal space. Their aura unnerved him. Between the harsh fluorescent lighting, the stale smell as he walked the aisles, and the beady glance of the employee minding the register, Tetsurou felt lowkey stressed. However, he wasn’t about to let any of those things stop him from choosing his purchase wisely.
Tetsurou skimmed over the covers at first, walking past the tech journals. The sports ones were tempting, but he’d save that for another time – preferably not the night before a tournament that he could potentially crash and burn playing in. Reading the amazing feats pro athletes were able to accomplish would give him a chip on his shoulder walking into the game tomorrow.
As the covers blurred under his gaze from dark, muted colors to a swatch of bright pinks and pastels, he knew he was in the right section. Frankly, he didn’t understand why they seemed to think only girls wanted to read the same articles he clung to, but he wasn’t upset either. There was nothing wrong with pastels, no matter what Kenma’s closet reflected. One day, they were going to go on a little shopping trip and broaden his horizons.
Tetsurou had the speech mapped out already. It consisted of puppy eyes and pre-planned store routes and size measurements to make it as simple as possible. Kenma liked simple. Tetsurou liked organizing. See? The two of them were a match made in heaven.
Now, to find a magazine to confirm that theory.
Tetsurou squatted down at eye level with the magazine rack and pursed his lips in contemplation.
Off in the periphery, the store’s door chime chirped. The ding didn’t faze him. He scanned slowly from one end of the row to the other, looking for a promising headline on the covers. Engrossed by reading, Tetsurou didn’t notice he wasn’t alone in the aisle until someone cleared their throat.
“Are you done selecting your magazine?” A deep, throaty voice asked.
Tetsurou wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t seeing a face he'd only encountered in Volleyball Monthly thus far. Ushijima Wakatoshi stood a few paces away, dressed in a purple tracksuit. School spirit could be the culprit for the wardrobe, but Ushijima standing there was a total mystery. Call him judgmental but something about the guy didn’t scream ‘romantic compatibility checker’ to Tetsurou.
Then again, people who didn’t know him well would say the same. Even volleyball probably wouldn’t be the first hobby to come to mind.
He’d asked Bokuto once and he’d said he would think Tetsurou was part of a fight club. After admitting that harsh truth, Bokuto had apologized and Tetsurou had forgiven him, because he was kindhearted like that. Then they had made a mutual pact to never join a fight club and texted a selfie of their pinky swear to Akaashi for posterity.
Akaashi had appreciated the sentiment, if not the 1AM text. Tetsurou suspected deep down he liked being included, though it was hard to tell from the way Akaashi had muted their group chat for the next twenty-four hours.
“Sorry!” He plastered on a smile and gestured invitingly at the rack. “Still thinking, but jump in if you already know what you want.”
Actually, maybe this was a sign. A signal from the universe to help him decide and to move the night along. Maybe he should buy whatever magazine Ushijima deemed worth his pocket money. Who could argue with one of Japan’s rising stars?
He’d leave that bit out of his nightly text to Bokuto, though. Sakusa from Itachiyama seemed to get his friend more riled, but there was a distinct possibility that dropping Ushijima’s name could prompt something. Telling Bokuto about the surprise encounter wasn’t worth risking a rant.
Ushijima turned his attention to the row of magazines.
After staring at it blankly for a long, silent minute, Tetsurou heard him shift on his feet.
“Is there one that you would recommend?”
Tetsurou leaned back on his heels.
“Oh? Is there something you’re looking for specifically?”
Dammit, now he was curious. Would Ushijima spill? Was he going to learn about what made that spiking machine’s brain tick off the court?
Was Ushijima a closeted fashion fan, or was he reading them for the same reasons?
“I have no preferences.”
Tetsurou’s mind spun with possibilities.
What if Ushijima was also trying to confess to someone? Could it be that weird rebellious kid with red hair who had been featured next to him in the last VM article? Or were they already together and Ushijima was looking for date pointers or something? Realistically, Tetsurou knew he couldn’t ask any of this. But maybe he could scout out a few crumbs of info.
“This one is best with styling tips,” he said, pointing to one on the far left. He continued down the row, highlighting the strengths of each magazine while assessing Ushijima’s expression. Despite his performance, it didn’t waver from the calm, imposing stare Ushijima had worn from the start.
Tetsurou bit back his disappointment. He’d just have to be more direct.
“Why do you want to buy one? Maybe we can figure out a good option from that!”
Ushijima’s eyes finally shifted, going hollow as if lost in thought. He remained quiet for a few moments but then stated, “My companion asked for something that was ‘juicy.’ I imagine he would like one about fruit.”
Fruit?
A confused laugh bubbled in Tetsurou’s throat.
“Okay. There’s some cooking magazines farther down,” he said.
“No. These are the kind Tendou reads.”
Ah, so this little trip did have something to do with the redhead. Interesting. Which didn’t explain the fruit, unless-?
“By juicy, it sounds like Tendou-kun is looking for an exciting read.”
Ushijima blinked at him.
“If you say so. It did not seem typical for Tendou to ask about produce. He is a man who enjoys confections.”
Shifting his weight, Tetsurou felt a sting of protest in his calf muscles. Rather than risk a full-on cramp, he rose back to his feet. This seemed like it was going to require actual thought. By the sound of it, Ushijima had no clue what he was shopping for.
“Juicy can mean exciting, or fun. Scandalous sometimes, but that’s more of a gossip magazine thing. Does your friend like reading the articles more, or is he into the quizzes?”
“Horoscopes,” Ushijima supplied.
Inwardly, Tetsurou cringed.
The zodiac predictions were the worst in his book. They had a little more clout behind them than the quizzes if you considered pseudoscience credible. On the other hand, the creation of a random magazine writer could be on point or wildly wrong. As evidenced by the many quizzes Tetsurou had taken that had spelled doom for his confession morale.
Kenma wasn’t a textbook Libra. Wild and flaky were adjectives Tetsurou would never use to describe him, nor was the phrase 'a hopeless romantic.' Kenma glared at the screen whenever they watched movies with sappy subplots. He was the first to question if a character served any purpose besides being the love interest. Scathingly, because he didn’t see the merit in having a role just for that.
If anything, the typical Libra description felt like a complete antonym to who Kenma was. Still, Tetsurou couldn’t reach through the magazine and demand the writers to edit their work to suit his exact needs.
Instead, he could just despise the horoscopes like everything else in the magazines he kept shelling out money for. Persistence was a virtue. One day, this marathon was going to pay off.
And that day would be tonight or tomorrow.
“Hmm, well I think all of them have that. Here. How about I pick one for you?”
“There is no need to sacrifice your free time…” Ushijima paused, and took another long hard look at him.
“Kuroo. Tetsurou if you want the rest,” he jumped in sheepishly.
It was just a guess, but then again, it figured he wouldn’t ping on a guy like Ushijima’s radar unless his talent at blocking increased dramatically. Spiking was out – Tetsurou had no desire to be in direct competition with Shiratorizawa’s ace.
“Kuroo,” Ushijima repeated ponderously.
Maybe he’d even remember his name tomorrow. A guy could hope.
“If your friend wants juicy, this magazine’s writers are sharp-tongued.” Tetsurou plucked one of the issues off the rack and thrust it out in between them. “They don’t hold back.”
“Tendou enjoys candor.” Ushijima’s olive eyes flicked down toward the magazine cover, scanning it. Tetsurou mirrored him. His heart skipped a beat when he caught the blurb in the bottom left corner.
'Short term or long term?'
Grab your honey and find out if your love is eternal or stale like yesterday’s bread!
“This seems adequate. Thank you for the recommendation.”
“Yeah,” Tetsurou responded breathlessly.
His mind stayed blank as Ushijima grabbed a copy and headed for the front to pay. Everything between Tetsurou’s ears felt like static. It took another chirp of the store’s door chime to bring him back from the trance. When he was present again, he took another look at the magazine cover.
Something like anticipation coiled in his gut.
The excitement might prove short-lived once he took the quiz, but Tetsurou was still hooked.
Tonight might be the chance he’d been waiting for.
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Keeping busy was Tetsurou’s favorite form of self-preservation. If he didn’t stop to space out, he was less likely to think about whatever was bothering him. And given that there was a lot bothering him right now, he was more than happy to re-read game strategies for the twentieth time that week.
Figuring out their player rotation for tomorrow’s first game was mind-numbing enough to keep him from thinking about the bed he was sitting on being the only one in the room. Or that before too long, he was going to be sleeping next to Kenma in a bed that wasn’t wide enough to let them spread out at a safe distance.
He wasn’t thinking about those details at all.
Nor was he thinking about what was happening in the hotel room’s bathroom. Not a single thought of Kenma taking a shower had entered his mind. Tetsurou was focused. He wasn’t imagining soap suds trailing down slick skin, or Kenma’s fingers running through his own hair. Maybe massaging his scalp and letting out a soft noise when the touch felt good. And he especially wasn’t imagining how Kenma might react if he were there. If Tetsurou dropped to his knees and-
A loud creak sounded. Tetsurou smacked the playbook shut and straightened up on the edge of the bed.
Kenma exited the bathroom flanked by a puff of steam, hair still half-wet. He wore a beige shirt with a maneki-neko drawn on the front in red, and boxers. Tetsurou remembered buying the shirt for his last birthday. He gulped in recognition. Did it have to be clothing he’d got Kenma? Why did the universe despise him?
“Good shower?” he blurted out.
Kenma blinked at him but then crossed over to the bed, crawling onto it from the other side. He took his time settling in atop the blankets, stretching out his legs before bending them to touch one foot to the other.
“It was fine. Are you staying up to read?”
He was barely two feet away. Less once Tetsurou got off the edge and laid down. This was his life for the next eight or so hours.
Tetsurou gulped.
“Yeah. I got a new magazine, so I’ll probably… read that a little,” he answered awkwardly. “You?”
Kenma stared back at him, eyes oddly sharp.
“I’m not tired yet. What’s in the magazine this time?”
It was Tetsurou’s turn to blink.
This was a first. Out of all the times he’d read them around Kenma, his friend had never asked about them. Quite the opposite. Tetsurou had a sneaking suspicion Kenma thought the magazines were ridiculous. And in some ways, Tetsurou could agree. They were ridiculous in just how badly their articles were written. Even if the stars weren’t aligned for their zodiac signs, he knew Kenma and him got along.
“You’re interested?” he asked, a note of surprise in his voice.
“Don’t feel like starting a new quest tonight,” Kenma said. “Talk about what you’re reading until I fall asleep.”
Tetsurou’s stomach rolled over.
Oh. This. This was far worse than the night he had pictured with them both safely enveloped in separate activities until lights out.
“Sure, I can do that.” He was such a liar. “Let me grab it and we’ll settle in.”
Retrieving the magazine from the conbini shopping bag, Tetsurou then moved onto the bed. Holding his breath, he scooted closer to where Kenma was sitting and studying him intently. Once he was there, Kenma's attention mercifully shifted to the magazine cover.
Or not so mercifully.
“Have you taken the quiz yet?”
'Short term or long term?'
Grab your honey and find out if your love is eternal or stale like yesterday’s bread!
Tetsurou swallowed against the newfound lump in his throat.
“No.”
Kenma's finger tapped the blurb.
"Start with it, then."
"I'm not dating anyone right now, though," Tetsurou said weakly. "How would I answer accurately?"
"You haven't dated anyone ever," Kenma deadpanned.
A choked noise emerged from his throat. "I mean yes, but wow! Do you have to say it like that, Kenma? I've been busy."
"There isn't anything wrong with that, Kuro," Kenma said. "For the quiz, you could just answer it about me."
For a moment, Tetsurou stopped breathing.
“About you?”
“I’m sitting here. If you don’t know what to say, ask.”
Tetsurou shifted on the bed, fingers curling tighter around the magazine pages. His heart rate sped up. He wasn’t sure why – it wasn’t like Kenma offering meant anything. This was just a way to kill time. An unconventional way, sure, but that’s all it was.
“You’re going to do the quiz with me?”
“No,” Kenma answered. “You’re going to do it, but if you need input,” he trailed off.
Arching his shoulders, Kenma leaned back on his hands. At the movement, his shirt shifted to reveal a sliver of his soft, pale stomach. Tetsurou’s eyes drifted to it, the urge to reach out and touch burning hot, but he forced himself to look away.
Fantasizing was dangerous when they had to share a bed for the night.
What was more dangerous was that suggestion.
“You’d be okay with that?” Tetsurou asked tentatively, trying to keep his voice level.
“Yeah.” Kenma didn’t elaborate, which only caused the butterflies rampaging through his stomach to intensify.
What did that mean? That him using their friendship to answer a romantic quiz wasn’t weird for Kenma? Or some other meaning he was too overwhelmed to catch? Tetsurou wanted to ask, but he was also afraid to expose his angle. He needed to tiptoe up to a confession, not stumble over himself in the warmup stages. Kenma deserved perfect. Calm. Collected. Heartfelt.
Tetsurou felt he embodied approximately zero of those qualities.
“Okay,” he settled for saying, rifling through the magazine’s contents until he found the correct page. “I’ll read it to you, and you can… chime in if you feel like it.”
Kenma nodded and then shut his eyes.
It was unfair how comfortable he looked, how unfazed, when Tetsurou’s heart felt like it might crash at any second. He didn’t know how he was going to survive this little exercise. How did one answer romantic questions about their crush slash best friend while making it seem like they were answering strictly platonically? Was he supposed to tone down his responses? Or would it be obvious if he did? Would Kenma somehow realize and then despise him forever?
Tetsurou’s heart stuttered in his chest.
Another jog, or really any reason to leave the hotel room sounded blissful right now.
Still, doing this quiz sort-of together might provide some insight. Kenma agreeing to participate felt like a tally in the positive column. If he didn’t mind being thought of as a boyfriend, even hypothetically, maybe he’d want to-?
No. It was too early to assume anything. The only thing he could do was his best and let things play out. There wasn’t time to formulate a grand strategy.
Tetsurou scanned the first question briefly before reading it aloud.
Q1: You can act like yourself around them.
A) They wouldn’t have it any other way!
B) Sometimes, but there are things I still censor about myself for now.
C) A version of myself.
D) Yes, but sometimes that leads to us clashing.
“Wow.” Tetsurou cracked a laugh. “Getting right to the tough stuff.”
He liked to think that the answer to that question was yes. For better or worse, he lacked a filter around Kenma, and it felt like that was mutual, mostly because Kenma was too blunt to act differently. Yet, considering the huge secret he was harboring, was that true anymore? If he was brave, and if he were the person who could answer “A”, Tetsurou would have confessed ages ago.
Laughter faded into tense silence. He tried to focus, but a new, troubling thought presented itself.
Maybe he was making assumptions again. There could be traits Kenma disliked about him.
Perhaps all the times Kenma had groaned or given him the scrunchy face when he did something obnoxious weren’t out of loving exasperation. Tetsurou knew he talked a lot more than Kenma. They had vastly different interests sometimes, and Tetsurou acted like a fool on occasion. That had always seemed like their friendship dynamic, but did it annoy him? Was Kenma enduring the noise and the dragging and the clownery because it was what he had, and not necessarily what he enjoyed?
“D” could be a more accurate assessment in that case.
He split the difference.
“I think I’ll go with B.”
Kenma’s eyes slid open just enough to narrow into disbelieving slits.
“Since when have you hid anything?”
You have no idea.
Tetsurou swallowed hard.
“There could be things. Obviously, you wouldn’t know about them, because, duh, hidden.”
Kenma’s disapproving gaze intensified.
“You don’t need to hide anything, Kuro. I’ve watched you be stupid enough times for it not to make a difference anymore.”
Tetsurou grimaced.
“Maybe that’s why I’m hiding it. Because I want you to see something else in me than stupidity.”
Something you might like. Something you might want to keep.
“I already do,” Kenma said, face smoothing out into a neutral cast. He propped himself back up into a sitting position.
Everything inside Tetsurou closed off to the insistent thudding of his pulse in his chest. His fingers tightened on the magazine’s edges and it was a struggle to prevent his mouth from falling open.
What did that mean? What did that mean?
“Um. Okay. Good.”
“Good,” Kenma echoed. “If that’s all, then keep going.”
Q2: How well do you know each other’s likes and dislikes?
A) We know the common ones, like favorite colors and foods.
B) I’m not sure how to answer.
C) Pretty sure we’re one person encyclopedias for each other. Try me!
D) We don’t know a lot of that stuff but there’s time to learn.
Tilting his head away, Tetsurou forced another laugh.
“It’d be pretty shameful if I didn’t know your favorite stuff, wouldn’t it?”
“It would,” Kenma said, a note in his voice that curled around Tetsurou’s heart and squeezed it with guilt. Because he wasn’t sure if he was in the clear there.
What else did Kenma see in him? Were they traits he liked?
How was Tetsurou supposed to know what those were if they never talked about it?
“So, tell me what I like.”
Kenma’s golden eyes flashed, a glint in them Tetsurou was certain he’d never seen before. Beautiful, with a pinch of intensity that he wished he knew how to decipher. As their gazes met, he felt his stomach flip over, nerves rolling through him in waves as he tried to understand. The moment felt as fragile as a soap bubble - answering wrong would enough to break it apart.
“Apple pie,” he said.
But that didn’t feel right, nor did the way Kenma quirked his head and looked him from a new angle.
“Mm. What else?”
“Your favorite color is red,” Tetsurou’s lips wobbled into an attempt at a grin. “That’s why we picked Nekoma.”
Kenma’s arm moving caught his eye. Distracted, Tetsurou watched him bunch a knee up to his chest and lay his hand on top of it to rest.
“You picked Nekoma because you wanted to learn from Nekomata,” Kenma responded bluntly. His eyes flicked away. “And my favorite color isn’t red. It’s black.”
“Black?”
“Yes. Black.” Kenma looked at him thoughtfully for a second. "If you can give me something that isn't basic, I'll tell you why."
Oh. So this was a game now.
Tetsurou's heart thudded loudly. He wasn't sure whether that was a good thing or not. But he wanted to know thanks to the way Kenma was teasing around the answer. He couldn't help being curious. Somehow, he didn't even feel guilty for getting that detail wrong.
He bit down on his lip in concentration.
"Contrary to popular belief, you aren't shy, Kenma. If you're with people you feel comfortable with, that sharp tongue of yours leaks out. You never mince words. Everyone who thinks you're quiet just isn't listening, or hasn't earned the privilege to learn who you really are."
Kenma's fingers flexed against his knee, the joints ridging as he gripped on tightly.
"That isn't a like or dislike."
Tetsurou tensed and forced himself to swallow down the swell of anxiety that had him wanting to shut his mouth forever.
"No," he admitted. Further words slipped out of his mouth before he could analyze them any more than necessary. "But it's something I know about you that's true. And it's something I like."
Was that okay to say?
He hoped so.
"Black reminds me of you."
Tetsurou jolted again, the answer replaying on loop in his head several times.
"Kenma?" he asked weakly.
"Get through another question, Kuro," Kenma cut him off.
He uncurled his legs and scooted closer. At the new proximity, Tetsurou felt a rush of heat flood his face. His eyes darted between the magazine in his lap and to the side, where Kenma sat, expectantly watching. The tension between them felt like a string pulled too taut. Tetsurou both did and didn't want to snap it, because the simple fact was - there was no going back from the types of declarations he felt on the verge of making. Not that he would, ever. He could never go back.
Summoning all of his willpower, he voiced the next question in the quiz.
Q3: If something happened and you never saw each other again, how would you feel?
A) That’s life, we’d both move on and be fine.
B) It would take a while for me to get over it, but I’d try.
C) A piece of my heart would be lost forever.
D) It doesn’t have to be them.
"If something happened and you never saw each other again, how would you feel?"
His breath caught, choked off by dread weighing down on him. It was a scenario, nothing more. Something he didn't have to take seriously at all. But the idea of never seeing Kenma wasn't something Tetsurou wanted to imagine even hypothetically. Their lives had been intertwined for the past decade, days shared, conversations had, and arguments too. They had always chosen to stick together. He couldn't imagine choosing differently. Didn't want to imagine a situation where he wouldn't be able to choose either.
Tetsurou shuddered.
"C," he said, pulling in a few steadying breaths and blowing them out slowly.
It didn't matter that he was laying himself bare with that answer.
'It doesn't have to be them.' Who on earth could ever think something like that about a person they claimed to love? What was the point?
He knew how he felt.
For him, it would always have to be Kenma.
And maybe it was about time for him to verbalize that.
Tetsurou's fingers trembled as he clutched the magazine edges. Words that he had agonized over for so long filled his head, bursting forth like the first blooms of spring. There were countless versions, countless speeches he had toyed with - which one would win out? What was the one that would serve him best?
"It's the same for me."
Kenma's hands slid into view and covered Tetsurou's, urging them to bring the pages shut. Then Kenma plucked the magazine from his loose, surprised grip and tossed it away from them on the bed. He looked up at Tetsurou intently, and with a sudden lightning bolt of clarity, the glint in his eyes became recognizable. Determination. That's what it was. Kenma was focused. On him, for some reason, and only him.
Tetsurou's breathing cut off again, heartbeat pulsing insistently in his chest.
He didn't want to say anything, because then this might actually turn out to be a real thing that was happening, and not a moment straight out of his wildest dreams.
Kenma shifted closer, hand coming to rest on his shoulder.
"Sorry," he said, sounding far away as Tetsurou's concentration dimmed to the steadily decreasing distance between them. Kenma stretched up, and his fingers dug into their new perch. "I wanted to let you confess, but you're too slow."
Before Tetsurou could mutter a response, their lips connected. Dazed, all he could do was feel the brush of Kenma's slight mouth against his, and the way he slotted their lips together efficiently and snug. Watch the flutter of Kenma's lashes as they kissed. Hear the pleased noise Kenma made as he pulled away.
Kenma blinked his eyes open.
"Kuro," he murmured. "Are you broken?"
A garbled laugh emerged from Tetsurou's throat. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead against Kenma's. He felt like he could float away at any moment, because somehow, this was real, and every bit of stress that had accumulated over the past months had been washed away in seconds. Without the urgency buzzing in his veins, Tetsurou wasn't sure how to react.
"No," he sighed dreamily. "I'm in love with you, Kenma."
A hand rose, and carded through the soft hairs at the nape of Tetsurou's neck. He felt a warm puff of breath against his lips.
"I love you too."