#crosspiked

It’s a truly cunning plan. Kenma is happiest, after all, in a blanket burrito. But that burrito could always have more layers, and he can’t stay in it forever. Sooner or later, Kenma will have to leave the warm cocoon, and when he does, then it’s blanket stealing time. By the end of it, he’ll basically have a nest. That’s the goal.

But for now, Kenma scowls, peeking out from his burrito prison at Bokuto.

“You don’t have to do this.” He mutters. “I feel like a child.”

Laughter echoed in the empty gym as the woman held onto her stomach, choking on her own giggles and muttering words in Russian that were going along the lines ‘this was gold’ and something more, but she really needed to apologize for scaring this young man instead of the one who was showing her around. They already exchange phone numbers, but this man! This young man! His appearance alone already gave her a positive outlook for the whole day. Sadly, the inner tease in her made itself too obvious. 

kuroo stirs ; brows knitting under gentle fingers sifting through his bangs , still sweaty and damp from the fever. there’s a weight shifting at his side , but the smoothing glide of hand against scalp is too good. too nice. kuroo doesn’t want to open his eyes just yet. they still feel too heavy , aching with the slight dull ring of a headache beginning to surface. kuroo sighs , turning his head more into the touch , much like a cat seeking affection , and the hand stills momentarily before moving again ,   “   how ya’ feelin’ ?   ”

“  you’re actually kind of amazing  ”

Bokuto’s words catch her off guard. It leaves her staring at him for a second as she bandages her hands for the upcoming match she has, but doesn’t really speak about. It’s her business, not theirs. Unlike normal students, she needs to have this kind of adrenaline to keep herself sharp. Peace will dull her senses, it will blind her, and it will make her think everything has passed. But it makes her wonder now how she looks to the captain of Fukurodani. An international student from Russia, a girl who acts so differently compared to others, and a chick who just doesn’t hold back her sharp tongue but can prove that not only her tongue was sharp but her wits as well. If he sees her as amazing, it certainly feeds into her sick sense of pride. He’s feeding an ego that is already large, too big for some rooms.

“Is that so?” Zarina smirks at him as she finishes bandaging her left hand, noting how good it looks. As she wears a tank top, some of her scars are seen but no one pays attention to them, but she’s glad about that. It takes away from the useless questionnaire that she has to lie about and it’ll make her feel more disinterested in the conversation than anything else. As the young lady tilts her head to give the other a coy smile, her amber eyes squint just a bit to make her look even more like a cat who’s got itself some sour cream. “Did you just notice, Bokuto?”

The Russian gives him a hard time for her own satisfaction, trying to get a new reaction out of him beside the energetic and bright. Zarina respects people like him, honest and straightforward, but it makes her wonder if he will ever learn of something darker in this world or will be able to overcome it? Such questions cloud her mind, so strange for a girl who’s not that much older than he is, or are they the same age? Zarina needs to ask him one time, she should but she doesn’t.

(DELETED: Bokuto): You’re hogging Kuro. Stop it.

(Text: Bokuto): Iwanr to sk you smothin.

(Text: Bokuto): Ask.

(Text: Bokuto): wiat

(Text: Bokuto): am I textnng the rihgt preson .?

“I’m not perfect yet, but I’ll keep trying.”

An earnest look with pure determination reflecting in a familiar amber gaze. He was looking at her with those trustful and strong eyes while hers were hidden behind sunglasses to hide away the way she tried to repress the wish to laugh at this. Not because she didn’t trust him per se, but because she didn’t trust in the definition of the word ‘perfect.’ 

“You’ll never be perfect,” such harsh words were like the biggest hammer of discouragment to the man who did his best. He was still young, and she were, too, but her pessimistic view on perfection never gave any room for even a single breath. The cold-like look was given to the owlish captain, he was a hard worker but there were no perfect humans in this world. Zarina learned it by being shown the worst of humans; her parents were friends and allies with people who seemed to be perfect with their smiles and their acomplishments, but then it was discovered by being in mafia how many lies hide in the word ‘perfection.‘ She’ll never be perfect either, it’s just a fact. “Give up this idea, it’ll kill you when you discovered it’s impossible or you’ll ruin yourself trying to get ot that ideal of perfection.”

Sokolova had her arms over her chest, protecting herself from any emotional feeling she could feel at that word. She was getting attached to these high school students, they were mellowing her down and she had to remind herself to keep them at an arm’s distance. Even here, she was still a member of criminal organization. Unlike them, she lived in the shadows and darkness since she was born. Not anything like those angsty shitheads pretend to be, but actual underworld.