#incomeme

Finally, he hears the door being open, and forces himself to look up. Bokuto shakes the umbrella with a bit too much force and sends drops of water everywhere. Kuroo feels something loosen up just the tiniest bit in his chest, because putting aside everything else, there’s always this nagging worry that something happened, and Bokuto is late because he’s being rushed to the hospital, but no, no, he’s here, he’s safe. It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt right now.

“Hey babe!” Bokuto finally says, once he’s gotten rid of his shoes. “Sorry I’m late. I thought you’d be gone to bed by now. Did you wait for me?”

Kuroo gives a noncomittal hum as he puts the book down. He doesn’t trust his voice yet. Bokuto steps closer, arms outstretched like he’s going to give him a hug, but then seems to sense something’s wrong, because his face falls.

“Tetsu? What’s wrong?” he asks, sitting next to Kuroo on the couch, close enough that their arms brush.

What’s wrong? Kuroo has a list. He had two hours to make one. For once, being so close to Bokuto does nothing to appease his emotions.

“Talk to me,” Bokuto says, softly, looking concerned like this has nothing to do with him.

Kuroo opens his mouth, and a dozen of sentences run through his brain. “This isn’t working,” he croaks out.

Bokuto jumps back like he’s been electrified, and Kuroo misses his touch, but he can’t even look at Bokuto right now.

“What do you mean?” Bokuto presses when Kuroo adds nothing, his own voice a lot less steady.

Kuroo grins without any trace of humour. “I mean this,” he says, gesturing at the apartment, at Bokuto and himself.

“Tetsu-”

“We see each other for half an hour everyday at most,” Kuroo cuts him off, resolutely looking at the ceiling. “You don’t answer when I text you, you don’t text me to tell me you’ll be late - I don’t even know why you’re late, for all I know, you could be cheating on me.” It’s a low blow, because he knows Bokuto wouldn’t, would never, but it’s still been weighing on his mind, in the form of what if and am i enough and less pleasant things. “I can count on one hand the times I was awake when you went to bed, or the times we’ve eaten together this month. I don’t even know when’s the last time you called Akaashi or-”

Bokuto’s hand clasps his arm and Kuroo makes the mistake to look down. He meets Bokuto’s eyes, and the hurt there makes him want to throw up even more.

“What is this about?” Bokuto asks, searching frantically for an answer on Kuroo’s face. “What- what happened? What did I do?”

“What do you think?” Kuroo’s voice sounds bitter even to his own ears.

Bokuto’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “I don’t know!”

“You know. You know damn well what this is about,” Kuroo says, and he prays that his voice stops cracking so much. “You know damn well why things are the way they are.”

Bokuto is silent for a moment, and Kuroo waits.

“We talked about this,” Bokuto finally says, in a way that Kuroo can tell is supposed to be caling but is undermined by the tension in his voice. “You knew I’d need to spend more time with the team with the Olympics so near, that I’d come home later-”

“I didn’t think that meant that you wouldn’t spend any time with me,” Kuroo interrupts.

Bokuto’s mouth is a thin, hard line, and his grip on Kuroo’s arm tightens to the point that it’s almost painful. “I warned you that I might not be there as much.”

“You’re not there at all! I’ve spent so much time staying here in the hope that you might show up that I’ve barely seen anybody else,” Kuroo spits, regretting the confession as soon as it’s out of his mouth.

“Nobody asked you to,” Bokuto points out. He lets go and crosses his arms, and Kuroo digs his fingers in his own thighs so Bokuto can’t see they’re shaking. “I didn’t ask you to wait for me all the time. We’re adults, Tetsu, we can go out without each other, it wouldn’t kill me if you were out when I come home! We’re boyfriends, not contractually forced to spend all our time together!”

“Ah, yes, I’m guessing that’s a contract you signed with volleyball, then,” Kuroo mocks, not bothering to smooth the harshness of his tone.

Bokuto bites his lip so hard Kuroo fears he’ll bleed. “That’s unfair,” he whispers. “You know that’s unfair. It’s my passion and my career, I can’t do less. It didn’t bother you before.”

“I used to be able to see you before,” Kuroo counters.

He’s breathing heavily, a lot more than he should be, but he can’t help it. His heart is beating way too fast, and he can almost taste blood on his tongue. Bokuto fidgets - he always does, but it looks almost desperate, like he wants to run out of the apartment and never stop. He settles for standing up and pacing, going twice to the wall before he turns back and stops in front of Kuroo.

“I don’t know what to tell you,” he admits, opening his hands in defeat. “I- I don’t know what to do, Tetsu.”

Kuroo closes his eyes, briefly, and looks away, letting the words hang in the air between them, because he’s got no good answer.

“Talk to me,” Bokuto repeats, with a desperate edge to his voice that almost breaks the last of Kuroo’s resolution.

“I miss you,” Kuroo tells to the lamp on the other side of the couch. “We live together, and I miss you. I can’t tell you what to do,” he adds, turning his head and looking up just enough that he’s talking to Bokuto’s chest. “You said it - we’re both adults, we make our own choices.”

“I can’t take time off practice,” Bokuto replies, and Kuroo can see exactly how hard he’s trying to keep it together, he didn’t need to hear it too. “And I can’t cut back on the extra practice either. Oikawa and I, we’ve got to be perfect, we can’t waste time on anything else.”

Kuroo looks up, only to see the fear in Bokuto’s eyes as he realizes what he just said.

“I mean- I meant-”

“I’m gonna do us both a favor,” Kuroo says - he knows he’s speaking, he knows what words are coming out of his mouth, but it feels like he’s far, far away. “We’re taking a break.”

“Tet-”

“You can focus on the Olympics,” Kuroo keeps talking over Bokuto, “and I can focus on having a life, and when you’ve got time again, we’ll see.” If there’s anything salvageable by then.

“Tetsu,” Bokuto repeats, taking a step back when Kuroo stands up. “We can-”

“Dinner’s in the kitchen. I’m going to Kenma’s,” Kuroo declares.

Bokuto stands rooted to the spot, his arms dangling uselessly as Kuroo goes into their bedroom and takes a few clothes out of his drawers and shoves them in his bag. His eyes are burning, but they’re still dry when he comes out, and Bokuto’s still there, looking at him silently. It hurts Kuroo a little inside, because Bokuto is never silent, or still, and certainly not both, but he is now, almost lifeless, and it’s Kuroo’s fault, but he can’t take it back.

Kuroo averts his eyes and puts on his shoes, and when he closes the door behind him, Bokuto still hasn’t uttered a word.