“That’s it for today, everyone. Thanks for tuning in.”

Kenma’s mouse hovers over the end button for a split second as his eyes search the chat box flooded with goodbye messages. He clicks it decisively as a familiar thought creeps into his mind.

She sees me as a friend.

Kenma drags himself to switch off the ceiling lights, leaving only the moody red LEDs blinking. He falls face first onto the couch, scaring his cat who jumps off the armrest.

He mumbles: “Sorry.”

Like with most things, Kenma doesn’t openly express his enthusiasm. Only those closest to him can see through his indifference. He’s afraid you’re not one of them yet. And because of it, he might lose you before you have the chance to really know him.

For the past month, you’ve been his nighttime friend. What was supposed to be a one night stand turned into a routine. Very quickly, Kenma can’t seem to stand the sight of his empty bed. If you’re not there then he sleeps on the couch in his gaming room.

It’s a bit alarming. He’s been perfectly fine his whole life. Now he sleeps with one person and suddenly, he can’t function on his own. What does that say about him? That he’s a codependent loser?

Kenma rolls onto his side, staring past the tips of his fingers at the wheels of his chair. On top of having just streamed, he keeps thinking all these thoughts that seemingly have no ends. He doesn’t even have the strength to wipe away the tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. They fall on their own accord, sliding down the bridge of his nose then onto the couch.

Why is he crying? Exhaustion, likely.

At some point, Kenma’s eyelids shut, engulfing him in a dark abyss.

When he finally wakes up, it feels like an eternity’s passed. Half expecting to see sunlight streaming through the gap between the curtains and window, Kenma rubs his eyes. His cat meows, probably doing her best to get Kenma to bring her breakfast.

His eyes go wide.

“Hi, sweetheart. I don’t have food for you, baby.”

Kenma lifts his head up, paying no mind to the invisible anvil weighing down his head and neck. Normally, he would give into it, letting his head fall back against the comfort of his pillows. But he’s far too intrigued by the hint of a whisper that trickled into his ears.

There you are, squatting in the doorway. His cat is circling you, rubbing her head against your knees. You don’t notice that he’s awake yet, giving his cat scratches behind her ears. His heart feels light as a feather and he doesn’t dare breathe, afraid he might make this feeling disappear.

“Such a good girl, you are. Let’s see if there’s any treat for you in the kitchen—” Your eyes meet his. The rest of your sentence is forgotten in the back of your throat. You smile, rubbing your neck nervously. “Did I wake you?”

He shakes his head which feels too heavy for his cramped neck to hold up. “What are you doing here?” he asks. It comes out a bit too bluntly than he originally intended.

You stand up, making his cat meow. You adjust the strap of your bag on your shoulder. “I know we didn’t make any plans for tonight but I thought I’d come over and ask if you wanted to grab dinner.”

“I’m not hungry,” he mumbles.

“Oh, how about a movie then?”

“I’m tired.”

You laugh nervously. “Oh, right. You were just live. How silly of me.”

Kenma plops back down on the couch, curling into himself, away from you. He can’t stand to look you in the eyes knowing how his words must be cutting into you. Though he knows he’s being self-sabotaging, he can’t help it. There’s a destructive part of him that seeks the thrill of that 1% chance where you might stay.

“Ken,” you say. Your voice is still soft but much clearer, startling him.

Kenma whips around, feeling the weight lifted off of his head all of a sudden. His hair falls down, grazing his shoulders.

You’re still smiling, holding your claw clip in front of his face. “Don’t sleep with this. I’ll leave it here for you.” You place it on the armrest. “Get some sleep, okay?”

Kenma stares at you unblinking. Before he can think, his hand flies to tug at your fingers. You look at your hands, then into his eyes. They’re watery and rosy at the rim. You didn’t really notice before since the only light source was the red LEDS.

“Ken, have you been crying?”

Kenma looks away. “No,” he murmurs.

You kneel down on the floor, looking up at him. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

His fingers are still holding onto yours. You close your hand, folding his knuckles into your palm. Your thumb brushes small circles on the back of his hand.

“Do you see me as a friend?”

You bring another hand to caress his slim wrist. “Kenma, where’s this coming from? Why are you saying that?”

He finally turns to look at you, folding his knees up into his chest. “I heard you today through the phone. You weren’t—you weren’t on mute. You said I was your friend.”

“Well, you are my friend. A very special one at that.”

Kenma gives you a glare, grumbling: “Don’t talk to me like I’m five.”

The cute pout on his lips breaks the tension somewhat, tempting you to keep on teasing him. But considering how much this means to him, you hold back.

You sit up straight, freeing your hands to wrap them around your knees. “It was something I made up to distract my friend. I figured you wouldn’t want people to know about us.”

Kenma’s gaze shifts from the wall to his fingertips, slowly moving in your direction but never quite getting there. “We’re not friends though.” Then, much quieter, barely above a whisper. “At least, I don’t want to be your friend.”

You repeat quietly, “You don’t?”

The shock in your voice coaxes Kenma’s gaze onto you. It’s a shock for him to hear those words come out of his mouth, let alone you. Something in Kenma changed when he came face to face with you and the potential consequence of his words. He can’t turn away from you when your wide eyes bore into his, expecting something more.

With all his courage, Kenma exclaims: “I want to be yours.”

After saying that, Kenma wishes to retreat back into his own shell. But right now he’s all out in the open, defenseless against whatever might be thrown at him. Vulnerability is an exhausting feeling. But at least when you reject him, he can say that he tried.

“Kenma…,” you call, not quite recovered from any of the shock that he just subjected you to.

Kenma supposes that’s fair. Saying no is not as easy as saying yes. It should take some time. He doesn’t say anything, allowing you some silence to gather yourself.

You blink several times at him, making Kenma’s brows furrow. “Kenma.”

You finally sit up on your knees, your arms opening wide. “Kenma!” You collide into him, knocking Kenma back against the couch.

Kenma looks down at you. He’s never felt so warm before. It’s a fuzzy feeling that sets in his stomach, sending his heart rate racing and turning his cheeks bright red. His brain is telling him to look away and hide but he doesn’t really want to take his eyes off of you.

You keep nuzzling into his chest, your arms squeezing his waist like he’s your favorite plushie. Your bright laugh fills the room, making his curious cat jump onto the couch and rub her head against your arm.

You look up at Kenma, finally. He can see clearly into your irises, the patterns that swirl and melt into one another. Your eyes are twinkling. If Kenma wasn’t having a heart attack before, then he definitely is now.

“You have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear that.”

Kenma smiles, his arms finally wrapping around your shoulders to pull you up onto the couch with him. The moment you lift your body up off of him, neither of you are smiling.

Red returns to his cheeks, not blushy pink but blazing red. Your gazes meet. The culprit behind ruining this sweet moment is shamelessly there, between Kenma’s pearly thighs.

ATSUMU:

is rambling the most out of everyone in the room before seeing that you’re asleep.

atsumu and you are at onigiri miya after hours to grab a bite. you’ve finished yours long ago but since atsumu’s doing a very enthusiatic retelling of his day, he’s nowhere near finished. osamu’s not even bothered to nod along to his twin’s rambles, going about washing dishes and cleaning countertops as though atsumu’s not there at all.

“hey! are you even listening?” atsumu grumbles, pointing an accusatory finger at osamu. when he doesn’t receive any hint of acknowledgment, he tries to jump over the counter to get in the kitchen. but before he could, he catches a glimpse of you burying your head in your arms.

atsumu yelps silently, earning an odd look from osamu who quickly registers what’s happening.

“shush, osamu. y/n’s sleeping!” atsumu says…as though he wasn’t the only one talking this whole time.

TSUKISHIMA:

doesn’t look like someone who makes a big deal about it but will fight anyone who might disturb your nap.

you two are at a cafe, pulling an all-nighter which was all your idea of course. as you two study, he continues to threaten you that he’ll leave you here alone when you fall asleep. but you know the only reason why tsukki agreed was because he was worried someone might kidnap you when you doze off.

half way into your papers, you begin to drift off. you remember hearing tsukki say things like “i’m not responsible for your half-written paper” and “i told you all-nighters are counterproductive” before everything goes black.

tsukishima sighs, shrugging off his jacket and wrap you in it. he also scoots closer to you to keep you warm.