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--->-<---
Kozume Kenma had always been shy, choosing to distance himself from the kids that spent their afternoons wreaking havoc, chasing each other through the sprawling hills of the Tokyo suburbs. And yet, he was never mocked by the others: for a kid so different from others, Kenma could blend into groups effortlessly.
Perhaps that was what made Kuroo Testuro, with his cheeky grin and overflowing confidence, be drawn to his junior. The boy whose only friends came from the small, pixelated screen of a console. It was in that console that Kenma had built his own definition of “friends.” It was in that console that Kenma had decided that loneliness was a small price to pay for comfort. Little did he know that when Kuroo handed him a Blu-Ray DVD, that that was all about to change.
Kuroo Testuro. Loud, cocky, and nevertheless, charming on Kenma’s heart. Someone who made his life better by just being there (though he would never admit it).
And so, Kenma kept a special place in his heart for the one variable in his life he couldn’t control. The boy who knew more about Kenma than he did himself. The boy who gave him volleyball. The boy who was his world without even trying.
Secretly, Kuroo felt the same. Those golden eyes softened his cold, calculating heart. A heart that was better equipped for biology than understanding his juvenile feelings. Feelings that made his usually predictable body do unpredictable things.
Especially when Kenma smiled. His smiles were rare, and yet, when Kuroo did manage to pull a smile out of the usually aloof second-year, it was the best feeling in the world.
Kuroo knew these feelings existed. They made him scream into his pillow, smile dreamily during math class, and doodle silly notations about a certain someone in his notebook.
But knowing they existed and accepting them were two completely different things.
For all he knew, Kuroo wasn’t even sure he liked boys. Not in that way, at least.
At first he tried to ignore them–when Kenma changed into his volleyball clothes, he looked the other way. When their knees brushed, he schooched away. But ignoring your feelings, Kuroo learned, only delays the inevitable.
The truth was, Kuroo Testorou was in love with Kenma Kozume.
--->-<---
These days, Kuroo was always overwhelmed.
He was overwhelmed during volleyball practice. He was overwhelmed during lunch break when it was just the two of them. He was overwhelmed even now, in the nonchalant silence of his room.
His room just felt too stuffy, too cramped for all these feelings.
It was a beautiful night, no doubt about it. A crescent moon hung low in the sky, a sky covered in the majestic glow of millions of twinkling stars. And, yet Kuroo barely registered it in comparison to the mere thought that next door was Kenma. His Kenma.
Kuroo knew Kenma well enough to know that he’d still be awake, playing on his console.
Kenma knew Kuroo well enough to know that he’d still be awake, winding down after a study session.
--->-<---
Kuroo awoke to the monotonous beep of his alarm clock. His arms ached from serve drills the night before, and his neck from being hunched over his desk, studying for an exam. He let out a disgraceful yawn before (unwillingly) dragging himself out of bed.
Twenty minutes later, Kuroo rushed out the door, half a banana still in his hand.
“Have a good day at school, Testoru!” His mom yelled from down the hall.
Kenma woke up, first to his console and yesterday's clothes strewn about his bed, then Kuroo’s face wearing its signature cocky grin. Am I dreaming?
He slapped his face. Nope, alive and kicking.
“Kuroo, what are you doing here? You’re supposed to wait at the door!” Kenma hissed, at to not wake his mom.
“Walking you to school, obviously. Now get dressed, or I’m going to leave without you.”
Kenma knew that was a lie. Kuroo knew it was a lie too.
So, after overcoming the initial shock of seeing Kuroo in person before even the sun had come up, he took his time. As payback, really. Not to have more alone time with Kuroo. Obviously.
Kuroo sat against Kenma’s bed, talking about seemingly everything and nothing at all: volleyball (obviously), the weekly Shonen Jump, the new transfer student in his class.
It wasn’t until Kenma pulled his shirt over his head, exposing his bare, muscled chest in the process, that Kuroo shut up. A rare sight that made Kenma look at Kuroo weird.
“What?”
“N-nothing.”
“Okay?”
“Anyways, you ready?”
“Yeah, let’s go.”
The pair walked to Nekoma Highschool the same way they had without fail the past two years. Kenma played a game on his console, the background noises filling the bleakness of the unusually cold May morning. Kuroo walked beside him, stride-for-stride, his beady eyes trained on the road in front of them.
This was routine. This was normal.
Kuroo grabbed a tuft of Kenma’s hair, steering him away from a red stop sign he was about to ram into.
“Thanks” the blonde boy muttered, fingers still tapping rapidly on his console.
It was a comfortable kind of quiet–one that set both of them to ease.
It was moments like these with Kuroo that Kenma cherished the most.
And yet, as Yamamoto passed by during his morning run, the moment was lost to the wind.
“Morning!”, he yelled.
Kuroo gave an enthusiastic nod, while Kenma simply muttered “i”
As Kuroo pulled open the doors into the club room, he suddenly felt a wave of disappointment rush over him. For what reason, he wasn’t sure.
The constant slap and ricochet of volleyballs soon filled Nekoma’s gymnasium. They were practicing serve receives, leaving Kenma and Kuroo separated by the flimsy net. At last, Coach Nekomata called them in, announcing that they were going to play 2 v 2 matches.
Kenma and Kuroo were always on the same team during practice matches. They were, after all, the heart and brains of Nekoma Volleyball Club.
Not today, though.
“Kenma, pair up with Lev. Kuroo, you go with Yaku!”
Kenma felt his grip tighten on the volleyball in his hands as he watched Kuroo give a curt nod in response, before ducking below the net that separated them.
“Kenma-san! You better give me good tosses”, shouted Nekoma’s aspiring ace, snapping him out of whatever daze he was in.
Why does everyone have so much energy? It’s 7 AM for god's sake!
And so, the game commenced, neither Kenma nor Yaku particularly happy to be there, meanwhile Lev being overly excited to be there. Kuroo was his usual self.
Kenma was unpredictable with his sets, and as promised, set the volleyball in his signature, featherlight fashion. After all, if there was anything Kenma hated, it was losing. Kuroo smashed the ball down towards Lev and somehow received Kenma’s dumps and Lev’s powerful spikes with ease.
From opposite sides of the court, as Kenma and Kuroo took the first set, they had the same thought: thank god he’s on our side.
They played to 3 sets. Kenma’s unpredictability and Lev’s towering height eventually gave them the win. By the end, Kenma was breathing hard, his breaths hard and ragged, Kuroo the same.
“You played well.” Kuroo said to his friend as they changed into their school uniforms in the locker room.
“You did too. It was annoying when you kept spiking at Lev, Kuroo.”
Kuroo only nodded before walking away. It was only when he was sure Kenma could see him that his lips formed a large, genuine, grin. Kenma hardly ever praised the captain. It was rare, and thus, hard-earned.
--->-<---
It was a Thursday.
Every Thursday for a year now, Kenma skipped afternoon practice. No one except Coach Nekomata and his family knew why.
A year ago, Kenma’s mother had taken Kenma and finally left his father. The father that loved them, cared for them except when he was drunk. He was drunk a lot.
As always, Kuroo walked Kenma to Nekoma’s school gates.
“See you!”
Usually, Kenma watched Kuroo turn away before walking in the opposite direction. But, for some reason, today he paused. For some reason.
“Kuroo. Hold on!”
He grabbed Kuroo's arm. On pure instinct, really.
Kuroo’s mouth was wide agape as he abruptly turned around to face the shy, often unrequited Kenma. He knew his cheeks were turning redder by the minute, his palms sweatier. But he couldn’t control it.
Kenma’s tongue went slack, and for a second, they stood there, frozen, just two boys dealing with feelings they could no longer control.
“Let’s go somewhere.”
Kuroo was well aware that Coach Nekomata and the rest of the team would be waiting for their captain. But, seeing Kenma so disheveled softened something within him.
“Okay.”
--->-<---
They were walking in uncomfortable silence. The console and blabbering that usually filled it was nonexistent.
They walked to the park where they used to play volleyball, when they were younger. It was a short walk from the high school, only ten minutes or so. But today, it stretched on for what felt like an eternity.
They sat on the grass, Kenma hugging his knees, looking smaller than Kuroo had ever seen him, Kuroo biting his fingernails.
Finally, Kenma asked in a small, almost inaudible voice.
“Kuroo, do you remember my Dad?”
“Yeah, he works in America, right?” Kuroo tilted his head in confusion. “What’s this about?”
“He’s in jail.”
His voice cracked at that.
“Kenma, what do you mean?”
But the tears were already pooling, dimming his golden eyes.
Dimming his spark. Dimming his soul.
“Oh, Kenma,” Kuroo whispered in a soft, kitten-like voice, pulling his friend into a tight hug without a second thought. For his own feelings were so small next to whatever Kenma was going through. Kuroo had never seen Kenma cry. Not once.
They sat there, frozen in time, holding each other as if it were their last day on Earth.
“Kuroo.”
“Hmm?”
“He got out of jail today.”