theme: thunder + excuses

storms were not welcome.

they brought with them a type of saturnine loudness that kuroo neither wanted nor appreciated - and sawamura could tell. watching the cant of those eyes, the way hands coiled and veins throbbed a little bluer, he knew just how much kuroo didn’t like any of it.

swallowing, he sat himself on the couch, letting their thighs brush and their knees knock, anything to get past the stiff indifference on kuroo’s features.

“you hate it, huh?” sawamura hummed, a low sound that overlaid clapping thunder. “i’m guessing rain isn’t your thing?”

“i don’t like getting wet.” it didn’t sound like a joke.

“want to let me in on why that is?” sawamura risked a smile that paid off. kuroo slanted both eyes to meet his, cracking his own brand of smirk; its corners were peaked with tightness, but sawamura’d take it. he’d take anything.

“storms or rain?”

“sure.” both.

kuroo eyed him for a second longer before dropping a head onto sawamura’s shoulder, smelling like pomegranate gum and relent. “i don’t like anything that scares my cat.”

theme: roommates + short towels 

kuroo was the smartest person sawamura knew. 

he also happened to be the most oblivious—a colossal monument of inobservance when it came to anything vaguely romantic. every accidental hint dropped and every lasting gaze went rolling off a keen shoulderblade into nothing. on the off-chance kuroo caught him staring, the sweetener-response was quirky and friendly and not at all what he wanted. 

sawamura did his best to keep their friendship solid—but it was trouble liking a roommate who thought being dressed equated boxer briefs and tight smirks. 

it was hard when they looked like they’d swallowed the sun itself. 

when they looked like kuroo. 

“oi, dai,” sawamura looked up from his book, taking in the sight of kuroo’s towel, a small thing that flirted with the bubblegum coil of his thighs. he dried his hair with another, blinking away the weight of water on his lashes, “you got some spray-on deodorant? i ran out, fuck.” 

get a grip, sawamura swallowed, “uh, sure. it’s in the bathroom.”

“ah, lifesaver!” kuroo groaned, tossing him a wink and a click of the tongue, “where’d i be without ya, sawa-chan?”

sawamura was thankful kuroo didn’t leave room for response before bounding away; he didn’t think he could manage one that wasn’t a sonnet of stuttering. 

“oh shit—” it was muffled, “—yo, daichi?”

through peak embarrassment, sawamura breathed a weak, “yeah?”

“i think i used your towel, you chill with that?”

theme: ‘the other guy’

when sawamura heard a knock on his door, he expected a handful of things—mainly sugawara with some untold jaw, if he had to reference the likeliest case. it was late, after all, the evening tying itself to the looseness of his joints and the routine exhaustion that came with it. there were only so many possibilities on a friday night—none of them being this. 

no, sawamura might have expected many things, but not the bruising cherry-wine of a split lip and a shattered nose. 

kuroo’s grin was complacent, growing more and more crooked as confused rage banked onto sawamura’s face. “haa, guess who broke his nose?”

sawamura, who was busy eyeing the smeared blood plastering his teeth, looked up. “oh my go—what the fuck—”

kuroo shot two thumbs at his own chest, head cocked and tongue rolling. “this guy!”

“why on earth do you sound so proud—” sawamura caught himself before his voice could escalate, pitching a quick look sideways into the empty hallway. “you know what, forget it, just get in here—”

sawamura turned away, door left open as he muttered something about a first aid kit. 

“don’t worry, babe!” he heard kuroo crow, childish, “you should see the other guy!”

sawamura bit his lips inward, looking up into the ceiling. 

theme: comfort + long days

kuroo loved hugging sawamura.

he loved towering a head over him, sawamura’s lips folding soft against his collar, the crescent of his nose rounded against the line of kuroo’s throat. it was comforting in its own right, sawamura’s presence a reassuring one.

it’s why, when kuroo came home after a day that ground his bones to salt, he dropped his bag and wrapped both arms around sawamura’s shoulders, slotting their forms with unapologetic force.

sawamura’s stiffness lasted for a single breath. he reached up, fingers stowing into hair, cradling the back of kuroo's head and bringing him closer, the other hand dropping to comfort the small of kuroo’s back.

“you okay, sweetheart?” it was just one tier above a whisper.

kuroo didn’t answer, finding comfort in the smell of clean clothes and mint shower gel. sawamura sighed, tilting his head and leaning upward to press his lips to kuroo’s temple, long and steady and quiet.

that was his brand of affection: unpitying and unprying. 

kuroo loved that, too.

he loved lots of things when it came to sawamura.

theme: indirect kiss

“hey, ‘aichi.”

sawamura looked up from his phone, head swaying to an angle. kuroo was propped up across from him, laptop open, textbooks spread and laced with unintelligible chicken scratch.

“yeah?” he asked, brushing a thumb against the warm side of his mug. “you know i’m terrible with numbers, so if this is you wanting help—”

kuroo rolled his eyes, letting them fall to a complacent, half-mast citrine. catlike in his grace, his wit—and his laughably short attention span.

sawamura sighed. “alright, what is it?”

tilting his chin, kuroo gestured to the blue mug, pristine despite its age. “what’s in there?”

“coffee,” he deadpanned.

“got vanilla in it?” kuroo’s smile was curled taffy and sawamura’s silence was enough of an answer in and of itself. he didn’t fight off kuroo’s fingers when they came up to cradle the rim, lifting it.

kuroo held his gaze, twisting the drink around, deliberate in how he set grinning lips where he knew sawamura’s had been moments prior.

winking, he clicked his tongue, “just sweet enough, but i wouldn’t mind something sweeter.”

theme: kisses + movie night

“why would he do that, can’t he see it’s a trap?”

kuroo chewed down his amusement. sawamura was terrible film company, thoughts running a mile a minute, mouth following close behind with cynical commentary. when they’d started dating, sugawara had tossed kuroo a wink and a warning, all under the guise of good fun; three months into their relationship, kuroo found out the joke wasn’t liquid. 

dai makes it cute though, doesn’t he, kuroo hummed, rolling his thumb into sawamura’s shoulder, arm resting along the back of the couch. “nope.”

“that’s dumb.”

“it is.”

“the dog better make it out - wait, is she going in there?”

“no clue.”

sawamura’s eyes widened, the screen traced into his pupils, light tripping against the open angles of his profile. “she did? she did!”

kuroo breathed a chuckle when sawamura leant into his side, frowning; the action might’ve been impulse, but kuroo savored it anyway. 

“they’re morons.”

kuroo shook his head, “hey, babe.”

agitated hum.  

“babe.”

sawamura’s brows knotted, “sh, kuroo.”

“but babe—”

scoffing, sawamura turned to him, scowl fixed and frown anchored. without wasting breath, kuroo leant down, pressing the jaunty curl of his smile to the cushioned lining of sawamura’s lips. it was off, their mouths meeting at an odd corner with an odd angle, petal soft. sawamura’s hand bracketed his face, sleeve smooth where it met the heel of his palm and the line of kuroo’s jaw.

they pulled apart slow.

“yo, babe?” 

sawamura hadn’t opened his eyes. “yeah?”

theme: mood swings

sawamura took another sip of coffee and did his best to ignore kuroo’s glare. 

it was never subtle with kuroo, features wound tight, unapologetic. his annoyance played a risk-all game between petulance and anger - and the terrifying part was not being able to tell the difference. but that difference, sawamura knew, was fucking paramount. 

it decided whether things were fair winds and following seas, or straight-up turbulence.

“stop ignoring me.” 

“i’m not ignoring you,” sawamura didn’t look up from his textbook. “i’m just trying to get this done.”

“sawamura.” his name was a flat note on kuroo’s tongue.

sighing, sawamura looked up at him, studying the set of his jaw and the marble-cold lining his lashes. “yeah?”

“stop ignoring me.”

“okay, then what?” sawamura kept himself in check, trying not to escalate things. “you’re mad, and you’re not going to tell me why because we’re both aware of your penchant for making me guess.”

the slant of kuroo’s eyes was keen, a quick narrowing. the look wasn’t for outsiders, it was tailored. sawamura, after all, could trace kuroo’s features from dormant memory. “what, d’you wake up feeling like an asshole?”

“don’t know, maybe.” sawamura looked back down. “did you wake up feeling twelve?”

“don’t know,” kuroo’s voice was mellow, a special blend of anger that was every bit unsettling as it was meant to be. he threw a handful of bills onto the table between them before pushing out of his chair. “maybe.”

the cafe door clicked; he’ll snap out of it soon.

theme: dimples + smiles 

“one time i snorted so loud i startled my cat and woke myself up.”

sawamura blinked at him, incredulous. 

kuroo was a man on a mission: get karasuno’s unreasonably serious, but also unreasonably attractive, captain to laugh a minimum of three times before camp ended. that was the quota he and bokuto set up over bites of rice and sips of orange juice—naturally, kuroo took up the challenge with no short amount of glee. 

his crush on the guy demanded a genuine laugh; sawamura probably has a nice one, too.

then again, after being saddled with bokuto’s cackling circus for so long, kuroo was willing to settle for anything that constituted as borderline normal.

“are you for real right now?”

“yeah, i shit you not.” kuroo drawled, smirk curling. “shiro is the laziest thing. didn’t think she could move that fast, damn.”

sawamura didn’t look impressed. “i can’t believe you sneeze-startled your cat.”

“it was actually snort-startled—” shaking his head, sawamura took a swallow of water before lying down onto the grass beside him. kuroo huffed, mouth rolling; this had to be the fifth failure that day. 

sawamura broke the pause, “shiro?”

he shrugged, “she’s a white cat.”

“shiro and kuroo. creative.” there was a hum to sawamura’s voice that made him click his tongue and look down. kuroo’s response was left buried under teeth at the sight of sawamura smiling up at him—grin caging a laugh, a single divot pressed into his cheek.

laughter was overrated anyway.

theme: heartbeats + first kiss

kuroo was nervous when sawamura leant in. 

it was natural, the rhythmic throb of unease that beat right under his skin, surface kept warm. he knew it had to happen at some point, that their arrangement—dating arrangement—had to involve a certain degree of intimacy. he steeled himself; goddamn it, tetsurou, it’s just some kiss. 

internal monologuing never worked. 

kuroo reached up, the worn pads of his fingers brushing idle graffiti into sawamura’s jaw. they were a breath’s proximity from one another, close enough to inhale exhales and taste the smell of mint gum they’d both been subtle to agree on. sawamura’s hand fell heavy on his thigh, the talking drum in kuroo chest silently mimicking the rise and fall of nervous laughter. 

he swallowed, and before sawamura could edge to seal the distance, kuroo cracked a smile and stalled. cocking his head, he glanced down at the confused knit of sawamura’s brows. “ha, eager?”

“yes, actually.”

kuroo’s smile tightened. so did his laugh. “cool, cool, yeah.”

“you okay?” sawamura frowned. “we don’t have to - ”

“no, no! i - no. it’s cool,” kuroo kneaded the back of his neck. “just - how’re you not sweating this?”

when sawamura broke into a smile, kuroo felt his breath falter at the quiet, gentle ease of movement. a strong grip wound itself around his wrist, pulling his hand free to instead hold it against sawamura’s chest. 

and there it was, tucked under the broken line of his collarbone - the unchecked percussion of a heartbeat, quick.

theme: kissing 

kuroo was hard to kiss.  

he was tall and broad and taut, the sails of his shoulders cast open and left that way - intimidating might have been a good descriptive if it was anyone but sawamura using it. no, what plagued him instead was the lingering aftertaste of strawberry apollos, rich in how it waxed the back of kuroo’s tongue and the front of his teeth, breath laced with cheaply sweetened vitamin water. 

but while kuroo tasted fun - in the way all odd, childish treats did - kissing him was hard.

“stop doing that,” sawamura broke away, letting their lips part, his own pulling into a petulant frown. “i’m serious.” 

kuroo cocked an eyebrow, teasing. “i’m a terrific kisser, you’re gonna miss out.”

“shut up - ” sawamura huffed, watching kuroo slant a smile. “ - there, you’re doing it again!”

“i’m confused,” kuroo’s grin curled when a thumb brushed the bank of his lip. he reached up, slotting his fingers into sawamura’s, gaps uneven, knuckles stacking. kuroo didn’t let him get a word in, pressing smirk to frown with practiced ease.

sawamura sighed; kuroo was hard to kiss, but not because of lank or wit. 

he just wouldn’t stop smiling, all keen teeth and crooked lips and open breath. pressing back, sawamura wondered if the cut-rate candy tasted better after the frustration. 

bringing both palms up, he seized the back of kuroo’s shirt, mumbling into the taste of strawberry. “i want you to know you’re terrible at this.”

theme: texting

“oh my god.”

kenma’s tone was a shade flat and two shades incredulous, kuroo’s sleek phone cradled in his palm. even through the atlas of shattered glass, he didn’t need to blink twice at the messages. “you’re actually a moron.” 

“i know, fuck,” groaning, kuroo threw his form across the duvet. “i panicked!”

kenma frowned, expression rolled onto a tightrope between unimpressed and sympathetic. looking down again, he fought tooth and nail not to sigh.

(19:14): haha thanks for the flowers btw tasted great

(19:17): what? you’re insane, you ate them???

(19:19): well no but now u know what to bring next time

(19:19): something edible

(19:26): ;)

“this has to be the dumbest innuendo i’ve ever come across.” kenma fixed him with a potent side eye. “i’ve read dating sim manuals, kuroo.”

“i know.” pressing both palms to his face, kuroo let them fall asymmetric, the architecture of his features unhidden by the odd hold. “what was i supposed to write? i needed a postdate text!”

“‘i had a good time, let’s do it again. flowers were great.’” kenma intoned. “the belated wink tops it off nicely, too—”

“shut up!”

a soft chime interrupted them, and for a beat, neither moved; when kenma looked down, his scoff was automatic. “wow, is this guy for real?”

kuroo shot up, snatching the device back with electric vigor.

(20:37): glad to know there’s a next time, then.

(20:38): pizza’s on me.

(20:38): ;)

theme: gestures

it was the perfect con job, really. 

kuroo got used to it without knowing there was something to get used to. neither of them was particularly affectionate in public - gazes kept private, touches silent. he never hailed glaring affection, choosing instead to keep platonic gestures occasional and romantic ones minimal. 

sawamura was the same. they’d talked about it. they’d talked about it back when this was all still fresh and jazzy and new, coffees lukewarm and forks clicking spades for the last bite of brittle cheesecake. well, that hot pile of nonsense went up in flames, didn’t it? he wasn’t sure which of them started it. all he knew were the idle kisses he received during conversations, pressed to the underside of his jaw with a lingering, unconscious quality. 

kuroo tended to follow suit. 

he brushed things off sawamura’s face as he spoke, drew rivers into his skin, smiled into the slant of a low shoulder. automatic gestures, is what they were. automatic and jarring and latent and how the hell did it take him weeks to notice any of it happening.

even in that moment, as they sat on the ground with kuroo’s laptop propped up by their bent knees, he felt a hand wrap around his forefinger. 

sawamura’s gaze hadn’t left the screen, and as he chuckled, kuroo’s didn’t either. 

theme: freckles 

kuroo was sleeping. 

they were tucked under bedsheets, duvet well-warmed and weighted by morning sun. sawamura tended to get up earlier for no discernible reason; a ritual, unintentional routine he ended up honoring.

this morning, though, laziness flooded the hollow of his form. sawamura didn’t roll over or out, didn’t check the unblinking screen of his cellphone. instead, head tilted, he took to kuroo, eyes lining the sharp angle of his adam’s apple and the geometric dip of his lips. 

swimming under copper skin, sawamura noticed them - a faint dusting, like loose countertop cinnamon. 

freckles.

too subtle to be seen in light, too faded to be noted when kuroo moved or spoke. it was the ideal combination of curtain-filtered sunlight and proximity that saw them surface, the stretch of powdered spots peaking kuroo’s nose, before fading into nothing at the break of a high cheek. 

sawamura blinked once. then he blinked again and smiled, reaching out to run a finger down the side of kuroo’s nose, slow and featherlight. laughing when kuroo jerked back, sawamura watched him twist away. 

draping an arm over him, sawarmua let his fingers find the same spot, brushing them past lashes and between cheek and nose. 

theme: nostalgia 

he saw him that september, buried under the rise and fall and cant of a scarf, mouth pressed into the warmth. for a breath’s beat, kuroo wondered if calling someone from across the street was an acceptable hello.

it had been months since their match, nearly a year if the notches in kuroo’s calendar were much to go by. there was a lingering nostalgia there, lotuses sunken into the body of a river. university was a world (or two, or three - ) from watermelon slices and summer sun and rubber soles and waxed courts.

kuroo was a terrible liar, so he chose not to lie at all; he missed it.

missed the training camps that saw their laughter fold into the air, the unseen oragami of their amusement lingering down empty hallways and sitting along open windows. he missed how sawamura had dropped down next to him on grass, a lucid, alive scent of pear tied into his hair, earthy and thick.

it was a fleeting type of love, he could admit now only after so long, after so many nights rich with coffeecup insomnia and thoughts of a knotted smile. sawamura was something else, something different; he’d been a new detail to tokyo’s neon. as someone who made a home for himself in the nebula of gasoline and the tight alleyways, kuroo collapsed in on himself when they kissed.

but that was months ago, and the memory died before it could fully piece together. kuroo’s eyes followed sawamura down the street, further away.