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or is in love, according to kenma. but that’s just downright absurd, isn’t it? i mean, he’s your best friend; if he liked someone he’d tell you, right? he would tell you everything, wouldn’t he? he’d never keep something like that a secret. especially if he was… fuck, he’s in love?

it’s a weird feeling, the sinking of your stomach. you should be elated, ready to grab your phone and tease the shit out of him or something.

but instead your feet feel heavy and your chest feels tight as you make your way out of the hallway and into the living room. slumping down on the couch, you blink up at the ceiling slowly, mulling it over once more.

tetsurou likes someone. okay. but who?

you try to think back over the past few weeks; hell, the past few months—digging through your memories of conversations just to see if you missed anything.

could it be the new girl he brought up a while back? the one he told you he had to help work the coffee machine in the break room? or what about the guy he raved about getting to sign onto a new volleyball campaign? he said he adored his playing style. or maybe the person he told you about last week that works at his favorite café? he grinned really wide when he showed you how they wrote his name on his cup.

its making your mind all fuzzy, and you want nothing more than to grab a pillow and scream into it.

and that—that makes you want to scream even louder because why do you feel like this?

kuroo tetsurou has been a part of your life since you were thirteen, being introduced to him through your best friend kenma when you asked who always took up so much of his free time. and since you’ve known him, kuroo tetsurou has been nothing short of insufferable and every bit of a pest—which you say affectionately, of course. but that affection (however precious it is) has always been watered down. the version where you link arms with friends on the way home from school or pull a blanket over them when you fall asleep on each other’s couch. its been base level, innocent. forever hanging under the line of platonic.

but your heart is suddenly aching and you wonder if that affection hasn’t actually felt like that in a while.

because now that you think about it, as you drive yourself crazy wondering who the hell your best friend could possibly be in love with, you come to the realization that there’s a difference between your relationship with kenma and tetsurou.

you love them both, dearly, but you love tetsurou.. heavier.

you’d buy their favorite snacks before school but you’d buy two for tetsurou and sneak one into his backpack for later. you’d go to the movies with both of them but end up with your head on tetsurou’s shoulder halfway through. you’d give them teasing hugs and kisses on the cheek just to see them wipe it off but hold onto tetsurou for just a bit longer. you’d listen to them both always, but catch yourself paying more attention to tetsurou’s mouth than his words every time.

you’d unknowingly set yourself up to love your best friend and that means you’re stupid. stupid and tiptoeing on the line of heartbroken.

tetsurou likes someone, and you like tetsurou. and as you sit boneless on kenma’s couch, you almost can’t help but laugh about how much you wish that someone could be you.

rushed knocks on the front door make you jolt up in your seat. the breaking news you received has really made you jumpy tonight, apparently. you eye the door, then glance down the hallway, but you know kenma won’t answer it when he’s mid-stream. (he hardly answers it when he’s not). so, that leaves you.

“if you were ordering more food you coulda told me!” you call through the apartment, loud enough for kenma to hear but probably not enough to disturb his stream as you drag yourself off the couch.

there’s no answer from him, and the knocks sound again, louder on the door and more insistent, and this really is not the time for you to have to deal with some pushy delivery guy.

“god i’m coming just quit—oh.”

on the other side of the threshold isn’t someone in a fast food uniform holding a bag of lukewarm takeout. no, its none other than kuroo tetsurou, breathing heavy with his hand on the doorframe as he looks at you.

“hi,” he breathes, smiles with one side of his lips quirking up higher than the other in his signature grin. your stomach twists.

“hi,” you mimic back, knuckles clenching around the knob.

his hair’s a mess, the gel he no doubt applied this morning having fell from its perfect placement. his tie is crooked and he’s missing his suit coat. red cheeks and wrinkly shirt isn’t a fully new look for him, but it isn’t common place like this.

“what’re you doing? isn’t this your late night? and aren’t you cold? your jacket—“

“shit i—“ he looks over his shoulder and shakes his head as he turns back to you. “i left it in the taxi.”

“you hate taxis,” you state, because that’s a fact you’ve known since you were fifteen and you can’t help it. “you think they’re unsafe.”

“i know. i do. but i just..” he pauses, for a moment, looks at you like you’ve just said the most profound thing he’s ever heard. “i had to get here. god, my boss is gonna kill me but this couldn’t wait.”

looking at him is tearing you to shreds, like you’re being pulled in two different directions. your heart is fluttering but your stomach is tying itself into knots.

tetsurou likes someone.

“what couldn’t? did you leave something here you need for work?” you turn away from him to look back into the apartment to see if you can spot what he must’ve rushed here for.

“no that’s not it—“

he’s in love with someone.

“did you need something from kenma? he’s streaming right now, so..” you’re trying to distract yourself from the ache of your chest, staring down at your slippers so you don’t have to meet his eyes.

“no, i just—“

“is it paperwork? i think i saw some on the—“

and that someone is,

“goddamnit, i’m in love with you!”

this must be what going into shock feels like, you think, as the breath leaves your lungs and your heart skips a solid three beats. your eyes must be hilariously wide, you probably look like some fish out of water with the way your mouth is gaping open. you couldn’t have heard that right.. right?

“what?”

“i’m,” he takes a breath, stands up a little straighter as he scratches at his cheek—a nervous tell he’s had since middle school. “i love you. not in the way i always tell you, it’s—it’s different. i think about you all the time and i drive myself crazy and you make me just.. god, i don’t know. this isn’t how i wanted this to go.”

“how’d you want it to go?” you ask, because your throat feels dry and none of this feels quite real at the moment.

“i don’t know, something cheesier to make you laugh? spelt it out in volleyballs?” and the way he says it, the crinkle in his brow, nearly makes you blow out a chuckle at just the implication. “definitely not like this though.”

he gestures down himself and you can’t help but let your eyes follow, and, before you can stop it, a laugh bubbles out of you.

this is definitely a turn of events from the spiraling you were doing five minutes ago, and the absurdity of it is just too much to keep inside. you look at kuroo, in his disheveled, sweaty, drawn brow glory and you just..

you grab kuroo by the crooked tie and pull him in to kiss him, because this isn’t how either of you expected this to go but you can’t complain about it one bit.

it takes him less than a second to kiss you back, and he’s even quicker on pushing you into kenma’s apartment and up against the wall by the door. and maybe its a bit unorthodox, and it definitely falls into that level of cheesy he was talking about earlier when you giggle into each other’s mouths.

and as you pull away, slowly releasing the death grip you have on kuroo’s tie, the both of you jump at the sound of kenma saying, “gross. finally, but gross.”

you and kuroo watch him pull his headphone back over his ear and retreat down the hall where video game sound effects resume a few seconds later. then, you turn back to the man who’s been in your life since you were thirteen and you can’t help but laugh again as he leans in for the second time.

tetsurou likes—no, loves someone.

and you’re so glad that someone is you.