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Tetsurou Kuroo had been part of my life for so long that I couldn’t remember when he’d stopped feeling like my brother’s friend and started feeling like something much more dangerous.
For most of my childhood, he’d just existed in the background of everything.
Loud laughter from the living room. Sneakers abandoned near the front door. The sound of him arguing with my brother, Morisuke Yaku, over absolutely nothing while I tried to do homework at the kitchen table.
Kuroo had always been easy to identify even before seeing him.
He filled space effortlessly.
And somehow, over the years, he’d filled ours too.
At first, I was just Yaku’s annoying younger sibling trailing after them everywhere. Kuroo used to flick my forehead whenever I interrupted conversations, call me brat like it was my actual name, steal food directly off my plate while acting personally offended if I complained about it.
He never treated me delicately.
That was probably why I liked him so much.
Everything with Kuroo had always felt easy. Familiar. Like breathing.
Until it wasn’t.
I couldn’t pinpoint exactly when things changed. Maybe that was what made it worse.
Maybe it was the first time he looked at me and then forgot what he was saying halfway through his sentence. Or the way his hand had started lingering against my waist when squeezing past me in the kitchen. Or maybe it was simply the horrifying realization that Kuroo had gotten older in a way I hadn’t prepared for.
Because middle school Kuroo had been annoying.
High school Kuroo was a problem.
Especially because he still treated me the same way he always had.
Still called me brat in that lazy amused voice of his. Still sprawled across our couch like he paid rent. Still wandered into the kitchen at midnight stealing drinks from our fridge while talking to me like those late-night conversations were the most natural thing in the world.
The only difference was that, now, I noticed everything.
And noticing things about Kuroo was a terrible decision.
“You alive in there, brat?”
My stomach betrayed me instantly at the sound of his voice outside my bedroom door.
A second later, the door opened anyway.
Kuroo leaned against the frame casually, tall enough that he somehow made my room feel smaller just by standing there. His practice jacket hung loosely over one shoulder, dark hair still slightly messy like he’d run his hands through it on the walk over.
“You know,” he continued, glancing around lazily, “most people answer when they're being spoken to.”
I looked up from my bed slowly. “Most people don’t break into other people’s rooms.”
“It’s not breaking in if your brother lets me have a key.”
"He wha-"
He quickly interrupted me with a shush and before I could argue further, he stepped properly inside and kicked the door shut behind him with casual familiarity. “Yaku’s not home yet, by the way,” he added, tossing his practice jacket over the back of my chair. “Said practice ran late.”
That explained why the apartment had been suspiciously quiet.
Kuroo dropped onto the edge of my bed without asking permission, like always. The mattress dipped beneath his weight. Annoyingly, my heartbeat reacted immediately.
“You’ve been hiding from me lately,” he said after a moment, nudging my foot lightly with his own. “Should I be offended?”
“I’m preserving my peace.”
“Wow.” He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest. “Didn’t realize my presence was so unbearable for you, sweetheart.”
I narrowed my eyes immediately. Kuroo always talked like this. Casual. Playful. Like every sentence carried the possibility of being a joke if things got too real.
Usually, it worked.
Unfortunately for me, I’d gotten too good at noticing the moments when he meant things a little too much.
Like now.
The room had gone quieter at some point. Not awkward exactly.
Just small.
Kuroo glanced toward me again after a moment, dark eyes lingering longer than necessary before narrowing slightly.
“You’re doing it again.”
“What?”
“That thing where you stare at me like you’re having a crisis.”
Heat climbed instantly into my face. “I am not.”
“You absolutely are, brat.” He laughed softly under his breath before nudging my leg again. “C’mon. Tell me what’s going on in that terrifying little brain of yours.”
“You first.”
“Hm?”
“You’ve been acting weird too.”
That seemed to catch him slightly off guard.
Kuroo blinked once before recovering quickly, mouth curving into something amused again. “That’s a strong accusation coming from someone who literally avoids eye contact whenever I sit too close to them.”
“I do not.”
“You do.” He sounded deeply entertained by it now. “You also stop functioning every time I call you pretty. Which, by the way, has been very informative for me personally.”
My entire body went still.
Kuroo noticed immediately.
Unfortunately.
The amusement faded from his expression first.
Then something else replaced it.
Something quieter.
“…Oh,” he said softly.
Horror flooded through me instantly.
“You’re reading too much into this.”
“Am I?” he asked, though he sounded far less confident now, like he’d surprised himself too.
“You flirt with everyone.”
“And you're the exception."
The response came too fast.
Too honest.
The silence afterward felt catastrophic.
Kuroo stared at me for a second like he was realizing something in real time, one hand dragging slowly across the back of his neck.
“Well,” he muttered finally, looking genuinely thrown off for once in his life. “That’s… inconvenient.”
“Inconvenient?”
“You’re Yaku’s sibling,” he said weakly, like that explained the entire crisis.
“You say that like I chose it.”
A laugh escaped him before he could stop it, softer than usual. “God, you’re cute.”
The words hit hard enough to make my brain completely useless.
Kuroo seemed to realize what he’d said immediately afterward because his expression shifted into something dangerously close to flustered.
Which honestly felt more shocking than the accidental confession itself.
“You weren’t supposed to hear that out loud,” he admitted.
I stared at him. “Kuroo—”
Then the front door opened.
Both of us froze instantly.
A familiar voice echoed from the hallway.
“I’m home.”
The color drained from Kuroo’s face so fast it was almost impressive.
From outside my room came the sound of shoes hitting the floor.
Then footsteps.
Slow footsteps.
Getting closer.
Kuroo turned toward me with the expression of a man seconds away from death. “Brat,” he whispered urgently, “your brother's about to commit a felony.”
“You’re the one who confessed!”
“You confessed back with your face!”
“I did not!”
“You absolutely did!”
The footsteps outside grew closer.
Both of us went silent immediately.
Kuroo shot upright from the bed so fast he nearly tripped over the edge of my rug, catching himself at the last second before grabbing the nearest thing within reach—one of my textbooks—and opening it upside down like that somehow made the situation less suspicious.
I stared at him.
“…Really?”
“Be supportive,” he hissed back under his breath, dragging a hand quickly through his hair like he could physically smooth the panic out of himself before Yaku walked in.
A second later, my bedroom door opened.
Morisuke Yaku stepped inside carrying his gym bag over one shoulder, expression tired from practice right up until his eyes landed on the two of us.
Then he stopped moving.
The room went painfully quiet.
Kuroo, still holding my textbook upside down, smiled with the desperation of a man actively lying to the police.
“Hey.”
Yaku’s eyes narrowed immediately.
“…Why are you in here?”
“I live here now,” Kuroo replied instantly.
“You literally don’t.”
“Right. Joke. Obviously.”
I wanted to throw myself out the window.
Yaku’s gaze shifted slowly between the two of us.
Unfortunately, Kuroo chose that exact moment to panic harder.
He snapped the book shut too quickly, nearly dropping it in the process before awkwardly setting it back on my desk like it had personally betrayed him.
“I was just,” he started, visibly scrambling for anything believable, “helping them study.”
Yaku looked at the untouched textbook.
Then at me.
Then back at Kuroo.
“They’re an honors student.”
Kuroo blinked once. “Okay, wow. Hurtful.”
The suspicion on Yaku’s face deepened visibly.
And the worst part was that normally, Kuroo would’ve handled this perfectly. He was good at talking his way through almost anything.
But right now he couldn’t even look directly at me without visibly malfunctioning.
Which meant Yaku noticed immediately.
His eyes narrowed further.
“…Why are you both acting weird?”
“We’re not,” both of us answered at the exact same time.
Silence.
Kuroo slowly closed his eyes.
“Oh my god,” Yaku muttered flatly.
“Nothing happened,” Kuroo said quickly, pointing at him like that somehow helped his case. “Before you say anything, absolutely nothing happened.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“You were going to.”
“I am now.”
Kuroo looked moments away from collapse.
Meanwhile, I had gone completely still from sheer humiliation.
Yaku stared at us for another long second before exhaling sharply through his nose and dropping his gym bag beside the door.
“I leave you two alone for one afternoon,” he muttered, sounding deeply exhausted already, “and suddenly this apartment feels cursed.”
“That feels dramatic,” Kuroo said weakly.
“You’re sweating.”
Kuroo immediately wiped at his forehead defensively. “It’s hot in here.”
“It’s literally raining outside.”
Nobody spoke.
Then Yaku pointed toward the hallway without looking away from Kuroo. “Kitchen. Now.”
Kuroo looked horrified. “Am I being executed?”
He glanced at me briefly before following Yaku out of the room with the expression of a man being marched toward his own destruction.
The second they disappeared down the hallway, I dropped face-first into my pillow.
This was the worst day of my life.
Unfortunately, it somehow got worse afterward.
Because Kuroo started avoiding me.
Not completely.
That would’ve almost been easier. Instead, he became strange about it.
Quieter.
He still came over to the apartment constantly because of Yaku, but now there was this awkward hesitation every time we ended up alone together. Like both of us suddenly knew too much.
Which was ridiculous considering technically neither of us had even said anything clearly.
Not really.
Still, things had changed.
I noticed it in small ways first.
Kuroo sitting slightly farther away from me on the couch now. The way conversations suddenly died the second eye contact lasted too long. How he’d started rubbing the back of his neck whenever Yaku casually left us alone in the same room like he expected a disaster to happen immediately afterward.
The worst part was that he seemed just as bothered by it as I was.
Maybe more.
A week later, things still hadn’t gone back to normal.
Not that I’d expected them to.
But I also hadn’t expected Kuroo to become this weird about it.
He still came over constantly. Still stole drinks from our fridge. Still argued with Yaku over absolutely nothing within five minutes of walking into the apartment.
But around me? Everything kept catching.
Conversations that used to flow easily now stumbled into awkward silences. Every glance lasted either too long or not long enough. And Kuroo—usually the most confident person in any room—had started looking strangely nervous whenever we were left alone together for more than thirty seconds.
Which somehow made things worse.
Because now I couldn’t stop thinking about it either.
Unfortunately, Yaku noticed everything.
Especially tonight.
The apartment door swung open just after practice hours later than usual, accompanied immediately by the familiar sound of arguing.
“I’m telling you, your serve was off today.”
“My serve was fine. You just think every problem in volleyball somehow traces back to me personally.”
“That’s because statistically it usually does.”
I looked up from the couch just as both of them stepped into the apartment still wearing their practice jackets, Kuroo carrying his gym bag over one shoulder while glaring at my brother with exaggerated offense.
Then Kuroo noticed me sitting there.
And immediately lost the argument.
Mid-sentence.
Yaku caught it instantly.
His eyes narrowed with terrifying speed.
“…Oh my god,” he muttered flatly.
Kuroo visibly panicked.
“What?” he asked too quickly.
“You stopped talking.”
“That’s not illegal.”
“You only do that around them now.”
Kuroo looked personally betrayed by the accuracy of that statement.
Meanwhile, I suddenly found the television very interesting.
Yaku stared between us for another long second before sighing like a deeply exhausted parent who regretted every decision leading up to this moment.
“This is painful,” he announced.
“Agreed,” Kuroo muttered immediately.
“I wasn’t talking to you.”
Kuroo frowned and dropped his gym bag near the doorway before rubbing the back of his neck, already looking wary. “Why do I feel like I’m about to be psychologically evaluated?”
“Because you’re both being weird,” Yaku replied. “Again.”
“We’re not—”
“You literally stopped breathing when you saw them walk into the room.”
Kuroo blinked once. “Okay, that feels dramatic.”
“I’m observant.”
“You’re invasive.”
“I’m right.”
Unfortunately, he was.
The silence afterward stretched just long enough for the tension to become embarrassing all over again.
Then Yaku looked directly at me.
“You.”
I immediately frowned. “Why are you pointing at me like that?”
“Because you’re also guilty.”
“Of what?”
“Whatever this is.” He gestured vaguely between me and Kuroo with visible annoyance. “I don’t even want details anymore. I just want both of you to either talk about it or stop staring at each other like emotionally constipated idiots.”
I choked immediately.
Across the room, Kuroo looked equally horrified.
“Yaku,” he started weakly.
“No.” Yaku held up a hand instantly. “I already hate this situation enough. Don’t make me participate in it more than necessary.”
Kuroo actually looked offended. “You say that like I committed a crime.”
Yaku ignored him completely before pointing toward the hallway. “Talk. Figure it out. Whatever. I’m going to shower, and when I come back, I don’t want this apartment feeling like a hostage negotiation anymore.”
Then, before either of us could respond, he disappeared down the hallway muttering something under his breath about wanting new friends.
The bathroom door slammed shut a second later.
Silence.
Kuroo stared at the hallway.
Then at me.
Then back at the hallway again.
“…Well,” he said finally.
“Well,” I echoed weakly.
Neither of us moved.
Kuroo laughed first, though it sounded nervous around the edges. “This is somehow worse than him threatening to kill me.”
“He still might.”
“Yeah, but now he’s encouraging emotional honesty first. Which feels sinister.”
Despite myself, I laughed quietly.
Kuroo’s expression softened immediately at the sound, like it happened automatically before he could stop it.
And there it was again.
That look.
The one that had gotten us into this mess in the first place.
Kuroo noticed me noticing and rubbed the back of his neck again, suddenly looking awkward in a way that didn’t suit him at all.
“I really didn’t think this was mutual, you know.”
The confession caught me off guard enough that I looked up immediately. “What?”
“I mean—” He let out a breath through his nose before gesturing vaguely toward me. “You. Liking me back.”
Heat climbed into my face instantly.
Kuroo saw it happen in real time and looked almost startled by it himself before a grin started pulling at the corner of his mouth.
“No, because seriously,” he continued, sounding increasingly disbelieving the longer he spoke. “Do you know how insane this is from my perspective?”
“You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m being serious.” He laughed softly under his breath before looking away briefly, like he still couldn’t fully process it. “I spent months convincing myself you were just tolerating my flirting.”
I stared at him. “Kuroo, you literally call me sweetheart.”
“Yeah, but I call everyone things.”
“You absolutely do not call everyone sweetheart.”
“…Okay, maybe not everyone.”
I crossed my arms immediately. “That’s not helping your case.”
Kuroo grinned despite himself before his expression softened again, quieter this time.
“I just thought if I pushed too far, you’d get uncomfortable.” He glanced toward the hallway briefly before lowering his voice slightly. “Or worse, tell your brother.”
“That’s what you were afraid of? Yaku?”
“Yes,” he said immediately. “Obviously.”
A laugh escaped me before I could stop it.
Kuroo looked genuinely pleased by that, shoulders relaxing a little more now.
“You laugh differently around me.”
"What?"
The words hit embarrassingly hard.
For a second, all I could do was stare at him.
Not because the words themselves were surprising anymore.
But because of the way he said them.
Kuroo sounded genuinely happy.
Not smug. Not teasing. Not even particularly confident for once.
Just… excited.
Like the realization had only fully settled in now that we were actually talking about it out loud.
“You’re reacting like you won the lottery,” I muttered, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected.
“In my defense,” Kuroo replied immediately, “this is significantly better than the alternative.”
“And what was the alternative?”
“You rejecting me and Yaku killing me anyway.”
“That still might happen.”
“Yeah, but now at least it’ll be worth it.”
Heat crawled back into my face so fast it was humiliating.
Kuroo noticed instantly and looked deeply delighted by it.
“You know,” he said, taking a slow step closer toward the couch, “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you run out of things to say.”
“I have plenty to say.”
“Sure you do, sweetheart.” Kuroo laughed under his breath.
“Oh, don’t do that now. It’s too late to pretend you hate me.”
“I never said I hated you.”
“No,” he agreed softly. “You just spent months looking at me like you wanted to and kiss me at the same time.”
My entire train of thought derailed instantly.
“Kuroo.”
“What? I’m being emotionally honest. Apparently Yaku wants growth.”
“You’re enjoying this too much.”
“Obviously.” His grin softened slightly as he stopped beside the couch, looking down at me in a way that suddenly made the apartment feel much smaller again. “You have any idea how long I’ve wanted to hear you admit you liked me back?”
I looked away first.
Which, unfortunately, only seemed to make him more pleased.
“That long, huh?”
“You’re so annoying.”
“And you’re cute when you’re embarrassed.”
“Can you stop saying things like that?”
“No,” he answered immediately.
At least he was honest.
The apartment fell quieter after that, but this time the silence felt different.
Lighter.
Kuroo leaned one arm against the back of the couch beside me, close enough now that I could smell rain and laundry detergent lingering faintly on his practice jacket.
“You know,” he murmured after a moment, voice softer now, “I’m still kind of shocked.”
“About what?”
“That you actually like me.”
I looked up at him flatly. “Your ego does not need this.”
“It really doesn’t,” he admitted, still smiling anyway. “But unfortunately, I’m going to think about this for the rest of my life.”
Before I could answer, the bathroom door down the hallway opened.
Both of us froze instantly on instinct.
A second later, Yaku’s voice echoed through the apartment.
“…Why is it quiet?”
Kuroo closed his eyes briefly. “Ah,” he muttered. “Right. I forgot we still have to survive your brother.”
Despite everything, laughter escaped me again.
Kuroo looked down immediately at the sound, expression softening so quickly it almost hurt to look at.
Yeah.
We were definitely doomed.