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bonus

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding." He finally let you take it only after memorizing every detail. "You're still cute. Just less... squishy."

"Wow. Thanks."

He was already digging back through the box of old photos your parents had passed onto you, on a mission to find more adorable baby photos while you continued sorting them into different piles.

From the corner of your eye you saw the smirk creep up on his face.

"What?" you asked, immediately suspicious.

"Oh, nothing," He said smugly, holding a photo just out of your line of sight. "I've just discovered gold."

When he flipped it around you felt your soul leave your body.

You were maybe twelve or thirteen, in what could only be described as your awkward phase. The glasses you wore were far too large for your face, and your hair was choppy and uneven from the craft scissors you'd used to secretly cut it. Not to mention the graphic tee you were wearing with an image of a stylized wolf on it, for reasons you still couldn't explain. 

Your eyes widened in alarm, and you lunged. 

"No!" 

Jongseob scrambled backward just out of reach, clutching the photo above his head safely. "Wait, wait, I need to appreciate this properly—"

"Give it to me!"

"What's with the wolf—"

"I will end you!"

He was laughing so hard he could barely keep his arm up. You launched yourself at him again, landing successfully on his lap, your knees caging his hips as you stretched upward. 

His free hand wrapped around your waist to steady you all while still laughing and trying to keep the photo just out of reach.

You finally managed to snatch it from his fingers, crumpling it against your chest as you slumped against him. "This is so embarrassing."

"Well, I think it's cute. Awkward you is still you."

You rolled your eyes at him, fighting to hold back a grin. "Yeah, yeah. Whatever..."

You climbed off of his lap and settled beside him on the floor. You placed the photo in the "don't let see the light of day" pile and continued sorting in silence.

As you neared the bottom of the box, your fingers closed around a photo that made your breath hitch.

It had a small tear at the corner, the colors slightly faded, but the memory of it was vivid in your mind. You were five, sunburned and grinning, standing knee-deep in turquoise water. You smiled at the photo, your chest aching with nostalgia, as Jongseob slid behind you, resting his chin on your shoulder to peer at the photo.

"What's that from?" Jongseob asked, noticing your far away expression.

"My first real trip," you said, the words coming out quitter than you'd intended. "The first one I can actually remember, I mean."

His heart swelled at the warmth in your eye. "You look happy."

"I was," You traced the edge of the photo with your thumb, a smile tugging at your lips. "Actually, I met this kid there. We spent the whole week together, building sandcastles and collecting seashells. I was so upset when we had to leave."

"Your first vacation romance," Jongseob teased, his voice gentle.

You laughed, shaking your head. "I was convinced I was in love with him. But I was like five, so that's unlikely. But I thought about him for months afterward. I kept asking my mom if we could go back because... maybe he'd be there still waiting for me." 

You felt your cheeks warm at the memory of your childhood innocence, so earnest and heartbroken over a boy whose name you couldn't even remember. 

"I used to make up stories about him. That he was a prince from a faraway land, searching for his lost princess. My mom probably still has the drawings I made."

Jongseob was quiet for a moment as he took in your story. "That's really sweet."

"Embarrassing is what it is." You dropped the photo onto the pile of keepers, your gaze still lingering on it. "Anyway, ancient history."

You didn't notice Jongseob frozen behind you, a different picture from the same trip clutched in his hand.

"Wait," he said.

You turned to see him staring at the photo with an expression you couldn't read, his face paled, his fingers gripping the edges tightly.

"What's wrong?"

Slowly, he turned it toward you. His finger tapped against a figure building a sandcastle at your feet; the boy from your vacation. 

You smiled and hummed, "That's him."

"No, that's me." 

You blinked at him with a frown. "What?"

"That's me," he said, eyes wide with disbelief. He jabbed the photo again, more insistently. "Look. That's me. Summer 2010. Jeju Island. My family went there for a week."

Jeju Island. You hadn't even mentioned that's where your vacation had been. You stared at the photo as your heart began racing faster. 

"What?" you breathed. "A-are you sure—"

"Baby, that's me!" His voice was rising, excitement bleeding through the shock. "Was your trip also on the island?"

Your heart was pounding so hard you could feel it in your throat. You grabbed the photo from him, holding it beside his face, searching to compare their features. 

The shape of their eyes. The curve of their smiles.

"Oh my God," you whispered.

"See?" Jongseob was practically shaking beside you. "See? It's me. Oh my god... We—you and me—we—"

"We met when we were kids," you finished, the words barely audible. "Jongseob, I thought about you for months. I—" Your voice broke. 

"You were my first love."

You couldn't fathom it. When you first met Jongseob, the connection was immediate. You'd never felt that comfortable with someone so quickly, so understood from just moments of being in each other's presence. There was a familiarity that made you feel safe, seen. Little had you known it was because you weren't meeting for the first time, you were simply reconnecting.

"It's fate," He said it—cutting off your train of thought—like it was the most obvious thing in the world, like there was no need for any other explanation because you were simply meant to be together. "It has to be."

You were crying. You hadn't even noticed when the tears started, but they were streaming down your cheeks, and you couldn't explain the overwhelming feeling that exploded in your chest. 

Jongseob reached up and brushed them away with his thumb, his hand lingering against your skin.

"Why are you crying," he murmured, his bright eyes lighting up your own. "This is a good thing. It's incredible."

"I know," you managed. "I know, I just—I love you so much."

You shook your head and then your lips were on his. His hands cupped your face, tilting your head back as his mouth pushed against yours with a desperation to pour every ounce of his feelings into it. 

He pulled you back onto his lap as everything but the warmth of his lips melted away. 

"Meant to be," he murmured into the kiss. "You and me. We were always meant to be."

You sighed against his lips as your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, pulling him closer until he made a sound low in his throat that sent warmth cascading down your spine. 

You pulled back with a smile, nuzzling against his chest as you held the photo out between you. He kissed your forehead then wrapped his arms around you, tucking you against him like you—and this moment—were the most precious of all the memories scattered across the floor. 

—

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Honestly, the entire reason the four of you had even gathered at Kenma’s apartment in the first place was for gaming. Kuroo, like always, had managed to irritate Kozume for days, twisting some farfetched tale that his newfound fling had wanted to try fps. So, he agreed to show her the ropes. That was until Kuroo placed his fucking hands on her hips, guiding her ass into his crotch until both of their eyesights couldn’t fixate on anything but each other’s skin. 

Which unfortunately left you and Kenma alone with a story game you’d convinced him to try. At first, it was exactly what he expected — exactly like you explained: long, choice driven, full of tension and consequences that followed the same notion of a butterfly effect. It was as though one wrong move, one missed clue, and a character died. There were no second chances. No sense of safety when making such impactful verdicts; all the storyline did with your opinions was shift the outcomes, forcing a new wave of obstacles that only hastened anxiety. 

Such an odd game of choice… though, it did surprisingly keep his attention away from the two imbeciles mouth fucking on the floor. So, that was a win.

Well, until the romance came. The sappy moments between fictional characters that overrode any achievement the two of you had accomplished. You managed to escape a monster? Eh, anyone could do that. You became mayor of the town and saved at least half the population due to your studious objectives? So what.

It was like the hours worth of dialogue options, the tiny decisions that somehow affected communities and personal growth didn’t matter. For fuck’s sake the main character nearly died three separate times and still the game wanted them to care more about whether they held someone’s hand at an opportune time.

It was like he was surrounded by unfettered lust; both the game and Kuroo made him miserable. There was no escape from such coitous actions; writer ploys, hormones… affection was everywhere. Couldn’t horror and mystery just rest on unsolved enigmas? Sure, Kozume could swallow Tetsuro ruining his floor with sweat, but a game built on strategy and decisions… that felt almost churlish.  

Yet, still, here he was — letting the two of you play through such a dumbfounded game, allowing your body to position itself near the edge of the bed with his controller in hand. Kenma leaned against the headboard beside you, eyes fixed on the cutscene unfolded on the screen. And finally, after what felt like fucking forever, the main character sealed their choice of love with a makeout session. 

Kenma rolled his eyes, puffed out cheek rested atop the grooves of his fist. I mean, c’mon, who would even fall for that? Probably an idiot — his eyes followed upwards, the glimpse of your kicked feet glinting in the corner of his eyes. “Finally,” you groaned. “That took, like, two hours of decisions just to get to this point.”

He couldn’t believe it. You had seriously based the majority of your decisions to get to this point? A mundane scripted sequence that only blasted shitty music to get an emotional rise. And their tongues… gross — all tangled together like they couldn’t function without devouring each other’s insides. 

Stupid storytelling. 

“What happened?” Kuroo poked his head from above, his girlfriend whimpering softly from the lack of attention she inadvertently received (so fucking abhorrent — he better dump her asap). “Wait. I thought we wanted Mira to end up with Asher.”

“That was before we found out he spread the rumors about Maeve.” Kenma affirmed. “So our decisions have been pinpointed on Kole since then,” his eyes glazed over his friend's enmeshed body. Idiot. “You’d know that if you paid attention.”

Kuroo furrowed his brows, palmed hands braced on either side of his lover's head while his eyes lowered at the frustrated setter. “Well sorry that I’m entertained over here.”

“I hope you get mono.” 

You snorted at Kenma’s declared medical curse, the sound quickly joined by Tetsuro’s girlfriend. And if on cue, she peered her head just below the captain, irises fixed on Kozume’s exasperated glare. Yeah, he was definitely not letting her come back. Still, she seemed oblivious to the setter's attempts to cut their intimacy off, pressing her lips against Kuroo’s which earned a short grunt from the depths of his throat.

Kenma was fucking baffled. I mean, what was so pleasurable about kissing anyway? It was just two people pressing skin against skin. There was no way it felt good (if you get his gist). Yet, here his friend was, acting like his life depended on such foolish acts. 

“If you keep staring like that, you’re gonna come off as a prude.” Kozume pushed his exasperated expression towards you. “Don’t get mad at me! Just saying…”

“I don’t get it.” Kenma grumbled, layered hair pushed back to take another look at the two bodies in constant movement. “Why do they have to keep kissing?”

“Because it’s cute.”

Cute? What part of it was cute? From the outside it looked like they were about to eat each other’s skin. “It’s disgusting.”

“Jealousy doesn’t suit you Kenma, it’s—” Kuroo was cut off by faint vibrations, a sound trickling near the middle of his girlfriend's shorts. “Babe… is that your vibrator?” 

Okay. That crossed a line. Even your cheeks heated at that comment; something Kenma awkwardly took notice of. “Oh,” she said casually, reaching deep into her pocket. “It’s my roommate. She texted that she needs me.” 

The tension dispersed after that resolute; soft chuckles and relaxed postures echoing across the room. Even Kenma visibly eased, a quiet and relieved sound murmured under his breath — a string of thank yous uttered to the universe.

Kuroo’s girlfriend didn’t seem to mind the thirty seconds of embarrassment however, already stepping back toward the door while Tetsuro followed behind her with exaggerated reluctance, still complaining the entire way like he hadn’t just spent the last four hours attached to her face. And when the front door clicked not even ten minutes later, Kuroo stumbled in like he’d been personally betrayed by every higher being for getting cock blocked. 

Little did he know his anger should’ve been directed towards her roommates' need for support. That’s what he gets for dating a freshman. 

“You still up for the game?” you asked.

But Kuroo didn’t respond properly. Instead, he made it exactly three steps into the room before collapsing face-first onto Kenma’s air mattress with a dramatic groan. “I’m emotionally drained,” he declared. And within seconds, his voice softened into something incoherent, phone slipping from his hand as his breathing evened out. “Don’t do anything… fun… without me…” he mumbled, already half-asleep — just like that, he was out cold, sprawled across the blankets like the sole reason to be at Kenma’s was just to face fuck his girlfriend.

“I hate her.” 

Your palms pressed against the bed, pushing your torso sideways to get a better look at the setter next to you. His brow was raised, the edge of his lip downturned in pure repulse to the memories of displayed intimacy. “Huh. If I didn't know better, I take it you haven’t kissed anyone, Kozume.” 

“Huh?” His cheeks seared with red; something he tried, and failed, to hide with his hair. “That’s… not the reason why. Besides, I’ve kissed someone before.” The ends of his fingers pulled at the drawstring of his hoodie, fabric pooling around his wrists due to your blatant declaration. Kenma wasn’t embarrassed about his inexperience, that much was certain. But for you to just expose his personal information… like it was normal? Now that — that made him retreat.

“Only one?”

Kenma’s eyes narrowed immediately. “Stop acting like it’s odd or something.” 

“It’s not odd,” you added quickly. “It’s just… Kuroo, as uh we can see, is like always tongue deep in his girlfriend. I just thought maybe…” Your face warped promptly at your own thoughts. “Okay, don’t laugh. Just hear me out.” Kenma disregarded your comment entirely, chuckling lightly at the way your ears turned a soft shade of pink. “I just mean — he obviously thinks it's incredible. So I figured maybe he would’ve, I don’t know, dragged you onto a double date or tried getting you to kiss someone too.” 

“I would die if he did that.”

Yeah, honestly, it was a stupid notion. There was no way in hell Kozume would ever follow Kuroo's egregious plans. For fuck’s sake it took you months just to get him to talk to you in English class. Let alone sit near you. “Look, all I’m saying is if you kiss someone you’re close to, you’ll probably understand why Kuroo can’t stop putting his lips on another girl. You can’t disregard the whole making out just cause your first kiss sucked.” 

Kenma stared at you from beside the headboard, fingers still curled loosely around his hoodie strings. “Uh, and who would that be?” The room fell silent after that; the only noise coming from the forgotten game in the background, the characters voices incoherently reiterating the coded dialogue the developers inputted. And of course, Kuroo’s snores. “Do you have someone in mind?” 

Fuck. Now it was your turn to hide — head pushed to the right to keep your eyes peeled away  from the setter. Originally, there was no intention behind your comment. The declaration purely based on the notion of an unknown female. But you had to admit, it did sound like you meant yourself. And really, the more you thought about it, the more it made sense. If Kenma were to have a better kiss, the most plausible outcome would be with someone he knew. Someone he was comfortable with. “Why don’t you,” you paused, left hand coming up to press against your cheek. “Kiss me.”

“Oh.” His torso leaned forward, head tilted and hung low as he eyed your tense posture. “Okay.” 

Really, it was that easy?

Okay, no, this is good — you’ll just take the kiss… slow. You heaved your body upwards, feet tucked beneath you as you scooted closer to Kozume, the boy whose hips still slouched against the headboard as he watched with cautious eyes. And for a second, neither of you moved. The two of you just stared, fixated on each other as if this was some ridiculous side quest triggered by a stupid captain who couldn’t keep his mouth off his own girlfriend.  

But you’d be damned if you backed out now; especially with the way his attention had drawn on you, like the entire concept of affection had suddenly narrowed down to you specifically. And really, what kind of friend would you be if you didn’t let Kenma experience firsthand why people got so addicted to kissing in the first place? So, despite every echo of denial in your brain, you leaned forward, pressing the rounds of your lips against his. 

Kenma stilled; his eyes wide and body trembled with nerves (or was it anticipation?). Either way, his eyes eventually shut, his movements promptly following suit of yours — slow pace, no tongue. Just pure inexplicit intimacy. 

And for a while, just your mouths moved in tandem — until Kenma’s fingers innately sunk underneath the hem of your shirt, rough fingertips brushing against the skin of your waist. Honestly, he was better than you had imagined: His lips would consistently follow yours, head swiftly adjusting whenever you deemed it necessary to shift sides. Even his grip would unconsciously tighten when you moved away, hoodie sleeves bunched around his wrists while he tried tugging himself closer between every gasp for oxygen.

Really, you half expected the boy to deepen the kiss with the way he seemed so eager… until he pulled away, golden eyes peering at your flushed cheeks and pouted lips. Only, this Kozume seemed different than before. His pupils, which were now blown wide, looked almost half dazed, like his brain hadn't really caught up with what just ensued. 

Huh, maybe he just isn’t a fan of kissing in general. 

Nonetheless you still opened your mouth, prepared to ask the stunned setter if he could discern Kuroo’s reasoning now for such a public display of affection. But Kenma didn’t wait for the words to leave your mouth. Instead, he kissed you again: This time needier, sloppier, as if something in him had finally clicked to the idea of how much a turn on lips could be. A soft sound escaped your throat when his hands tightened around your waist, pulling you forward until your legs slid across either side of his lap. The sudden closeness dragged a shaky breath from both of you, mouths parting briefly just to breathe before reconnecting again. Even his hips ground upwards, the pure feeling of ecstasy just from kissing now prevalent in his own sweatpants. 

God, how did Kuroo do this everywhere? Did he truly have a boner each time and just hid it? 

Your fingers instinctively twisted into the fabric of his hoodie, tugging his torso forward until he had no choice but to switch positions; his frame now towered above your sprawled out body. Still, Kozume wasted no time in pushing his pelvis back against yours, grinding in slow, deliberate circles until a string of groans vibrated against your lips. 

Truthfully, it seemed as though the poor boy was utterly lost in bliss — the very same feeling his friend had for the past four hours. And now? Now Kenma was pissed; because why the fuck wasn’t he having a makeout session for half the day? 

But you didn’t mind the switch-up of your friend — the way he pressed eagerly against your shorts. Nor did you mind the string of saliva sealed against your neck every time he became too overwhelmed with kissing — the neurons of his brain not able to compute such a surge of hormones.

Frankly, Kenma was going to lose it. The way the hem of your underwear exposed itself from the constant tug and pull of his hips, the gasps you exuded from each push between your legs… Yeah, he wanted this to go farther. Who cares if Kuroo was in the same room. 

Honestly it was too bad girls didn’t just carry around their vibrator like Tetsuro assumed… eh, he could always just use his controller.