“Stop smiling.” I mumbled as I pointedly looked away from the boy in front of me, determined to keep my eyes on my notebook instead.

Tetsuro’s smile shifted into a signature smirk as he leaned on the table between the two of us. “Why?” His voice lulled, mocking me playfully.

I scoffed at the smugness that emanated from him and rolled my eyes slightly. “It does things to me that I’d rather not talk about.”

“Yeah? Like what?” He let out a soft chuckle and tried to tip his head into my eye line, looking to anyone else (and perhaps myself as well) like an idiot. “Why don’t you wanna talk about it?” He was teasing, acting like he knew something more than anyone else at the table.

I sighed deeply and glanced up to him easily. Propping my head up in the heel of one of my hands, I spoke lazily at him. “Like make me wanna murder you, but if I talk about it then it’s called premeditation and I’ll get more time for that.” I let an easy smirk cross my lips as Kenma’s shoulders shook in silent laughter from his spot next to Tetsuro.

Tetsuro did not find it as funny. “Y/n!” He exclaimed, eyes widening and jaw dropping. “How could you wanna murder your best friend?” He stopped leaning on the table and threw his hands up in an exaggerated gesture towards his face. “Look at me! I’m adorable.”

I raised my eyebrows and quickly glanced up and down his frame before looking over at Kenma, my brows still raised. A small smirk graced my lips as I tilted my head, trying to hold back a laugh as I locked eyes with the quiet boy.

“Hey! Don’t look at him like that!” Tetsuro cried, glancing between me and Kenma quickly.

Kenma flicked his eyes over to Tetsuro for just a second before bringing them back to me. Kenma widened his eyes a bit with raised brows, glancing away from Tetsuro for just a moment before giving me a small smirk.

“That’s not fair.” Tetsuro’s complaint was spurred by my non-verbal response to Kenma of an amused nod and half smile on my lips. Tetsuro huffed, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair with a small pout on his lips. “You guys are so mean it’s like you’ve got your own little silent language.”

My lazy smirk turned into a full smile then and I drew my attention away from Kenma. “We just work at a higher intelligence level than you, Tetsu,” I teased, trying to hold in the laugh that I desperately wanted to let out. Kenma didn’t hold back as much as I and let out a short laugh at his best friend’s flustered state.

Tetsuro groaned and shook his head. Putting his hands flat on the table, he used the positioning to support himself as he stood up. “I hate you both.” He tried to say it with a sense of finality but the small uptick of one of the corners of his lips gave away that he wasn’t as upset as he was pretending to be. “I’m getting coffee.” He declared as he turned on his heel and stalked off to the counter of the coffee shop.

“He’s such a drama queen,” I joked to Kenma as I watched Tetsurou reach the corner. I smiled as I watched him try to lean casually on the counter to chat with the barista, the little slip of his hand on the counter causing him to almost fall before he balanced himself. “And such a dork,” I let out a soft laugh, pulling my lip between my teeth as I watched him.

“You know, eventually, if you don’t tell him, I will,” Kenma mused, watching me carefully as I watched my other friend.

I snapped my attention back to Kenma in shock and shook my head lightly, confused as to what he was talking about. “Tell him what? I don’t know what you’re-”

Kenma sighed and gave me a deadpan look, the one he got when things dragged on for too long and he was ready to get to the end of it. “He loves you too, you know?”

I froze. “What?” The implications of the word ‘too’ processing slowly. The implication that Kenma not only knew about the way I truly felt for Tetsuro, but that he also believed Tetsuro loved me back.

Kenma sighed and glanced over to where my attention previously was, on where Tetsuro was tapping on his phone, waiting for his coffee at the counter. “He’s just afraid of admitting it,” he concluded, his attention coming back to me just as quickly as it had strayed.

“How do you know?” I asked quietly, hope filling my body. Kenma wouldn’t lie about something like this, I knew that. He didn’t really lie about anything. I glanced over at Tetsuro and couldn’t help the funny feeling bubbling inside of me as I did.

Kenma shook his head in mock disappointment, but didn’t try to hide the small smile playing across his lips at his correct guess about my feelings. “He stares at you every time you look away.”

----- ----- ----- ----- -----

Kenma’s words sat heavy in my mind for the rest of the day. My brain spending an agonizing amount of time to try and recount any time that Tetsuro might have given the impression that he had feelings for me beyond platonic. I had been notably quieter when he’d returned to the table and had even excused myself from the hang out before the sun set, which was unusual for me to tap out of socialization before Kenma did. There was just too much on my mind this time, too much I was trying to process.

I had been laying in bed for hours now, staring at the ceiling as the tv played in the background, some show on it forgotten long ago. The sound of my phone ringing caught my attention and I grabbed it quickly, hitting the answer button and pressing it to my ear. I opened my mouth to greet the line but were clearly too slow on the draw.

“Are you busy?” Tetsuro’s voice slid through the speaker on my phone and I squinted my eyes in confusion, sitting up in bed.

I pulled my phone away from my ear to check the time before bringing it back. I let out a soft scoff at the time as I responded, “it’s like midnight, Tetsu.”

“Okay.” I could almost hear his eyes roll through the phone. “So is that a no?” He asked after a moment.

I sighed and looked back up at the ceiling of my room. “No, dummy, I am not busy right now,” I sassed as I went to search for the remote, hoping to flip through channels for another show to actually watch this time.

“Could I come over and talk to you?”

My fingers dropped their grip around the remote and I glanced over towards the direction of my front door. “Right now? Did you not just hear me say that it was the middle of the night,” my tone reeked of exasperation as I tried to wrap my head around why he would possibly want to come over right then.

Tetsuro sighed on the other side of the phone. “Are you going to let me in or not?”

I opened my mouth to question him again but my thoughts were interrupted by a knock sounding from the other room.

It only took a few seconds for the dots to connect for me. I hung up the phone and rushed out of my room to the door, pulling it open quickly.

“Are you crazy!” I exclaimed as I looked at the boy standing outside my door. He was casually clad in a zip-up and a pair of joggers, looking like he was going to freeze any second. His messy hair was pushed out of his face, like he’d been running his hands through it. “What are you doing here?”

He tilted his head to the side, his hands burrowing further into his pockets as he slapped a nervous smile on his face. “What if I told you I was just insanely bored and needed to see you?”

I narrowed my eyes at him and blocked the entrance to my home a little more. “I’d call you clinically insane and leave you out on the street like the feral cat that you are.”

His jaw dropped as a look of mild offense crossed his face. “Come on, let me in! Its freezing out here!” He whined but I gave him a look to show how unimpressed I was. “Please?” He put on a small pout and I groaned at my own weakness. I stepped aside and waved him inside.

“An angel, really,” he teased as he stepped past me easily, slipping off his shoes and placing them to the side with mine.

I rolled my eyes as I shut my door. I turned and crossed my arms, leaning back against my door as I watched him exhale hot air onto his cold hands and then rub them together. “Don’t try to flatter me now,” I teased. “I’m mad at you.” Him and his crazy random dropping by when I’d already been thinking about him.

He laughed lightly, genuine smile popping onto his lips. “Again?” His eyes seemed to twinkle with mischievous energy. “Forgive me with a kiss?” He joked, but I saw it as an opening to address what I’d been thinking about for hours now.

I hummed in faux thought as I stepped closer to him. “On one condition.” I smiled lightly. I could tell that he thought I was just playing into his joke. And I was, in a way.

“What condition is that?” He smirked, mimicking me and taking a step to close the distance.

It was dangerous, that mischief in his eyes. It drew me in like a siren’s call, until I was standing chest to chest with him, looking right into that mischief. The siren’s call that taunted me to take the leap into the deep end. And I followed it. “Kiss me like you mean it, Tetsuro.”

I watched as my words registered for him like it was in slow motion. “What?” The smirk fell off his face and he looked at me in shock. Disbelief evident on his face, mixed with a glimpse of hopefulness.

“Kiss me.” I pulled my hands up to his neck, linking my fingers together behind it. “Like you.” I pressed my body against his gently and swallowed harshly at the warmth that radiated off of him. “Mean it.”

My name fell from his lips breathlessly, in the form of a question, as he brought his hands up to cup my face, thumbs brushing against my cheekbones. “Tell me you’re being for real?”

I could feel my eyes fluttering closed as I sunk into the soft touches of his hands, a sensation I’d only dreamed about before. “ I’m being for real,” I whispered.

A gasp drew from my lips as they were suddenly pressed to his. It took barely a second before he was backing me up against the door again, pinning me to the surface with soft movements. His hands cupped my jaw firmly, his kiss growing more desperate as he leaned his body into mine. Millions of unspoken words bleeding from his lips to mine. My hands slid down to his chest, fingers coming down to play with the zipper on his jacket.

A low groan came from his lips as he reluctantly pulled back slightly to breathe. “We should-”

“Talk about it later,” I muttered back, both of my words coming out in pants. I pulled my shirt off quickly and he couldn’t help but let his eyes drop down.

“Right,” he nodded along in a daze, “later.” He let out another groan and reconnected my lips, he was quick to lift me up. I quickly wrapped my legs around his waist and held onto his neck as he moved my connected forms from the wall.

His hands cupped against my ass as he stumbled my way further into my place, navigating blindly to my room. It was quick, a blurry sequence of movements as my clothes were lost until my bare back hit my bed.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this,” he mumbled into the skin of my neck, trailing kisses to my chest and down the center.

I let out a sharp gasp as he pulled one of my nipples into his mouth, quickly but softly rolling his tongue over it. “As long as I have,” I whined in response.

He lifted himself onto his elbows, hovering over me as he spoke, eyes blown wide as he looked at me, taking in all of me finally. “Do you have any idea how fucking perfect you are?” I whimpered lightly at his comment as he brought his lips back towards my chest. He kissed across the skin as his fingers gripped the band of my underwear. “Can I?”

I nodded quickly and he wasted no time in complying with drawing them off my body. “Tetsu,” I whined as his fingers brushed against the inside of my thighs. My hands found purchase on his body, one winding through his hair as the other pressed to his bare shoulder, both tugging and pushing his body lower, begging his head to be between my thighs. “Please.”

He smiled lightly and readjusted himself, ignoring how his sweats shifted uncomfortably against him as he laid between my legs. “Anything for you princess.” His hands cupped the back of my thighs, easily lifting them and hooking my knees over his shoulders. His thumbs spread me open for him and I whimpered at the sensation. He made sure to lock eyes with me.

“Tetsu,” I drew his name out in a desperate moan as he flattened his tongue against me and dragged it slowly up. Long and slow. I threw my head back at the sensation as his eyes rolled slightly.

“Fuck you taste so good,” he mumbled into me, licking again. His tongue carved its way into me as I cried out, juices spilling onto his tongue as he moaned. Curses and moans tumbled off my lips as one of his thumbs brushed against my clit. “So so fucking good.”

“Please, please don’t stop,” I cried out as he moved his mouth up. His tongue flicked gently over my clit as his fingers trailed lower. Eased by his spit and my own slick, he pressed two of his long fingers inside of me.

Immediately curling his fingers up caused me to squeeze around them and he let out a strangled moan at the feeling of it, his hips stuttering against the bed. “Oh god.” He licked quicker, careful to not be too harsh but desperate to make me tumble over an edge.

His name came from my lips like a prayer, a mix of moans and whines, begging and pleading for more of him. He was diligent and consistent with pace and placement and when I finally came, I did so while calling his name.

“Fu-uck,” he let out a broken moan, his lips pressed against the inside of my thigh and his eyes squeezed shut. He pulled away quickly, leaning up on his knees as he tried to catch his breath, his hands braced on my legs, just above my knees.

It took me a second to come down from the dizziness in my brain and to notice the growing stain on the front of his sweats. “Did you just-” I whispered in shock as I glanced at him.

He was panting still, eyes squeezed shut and blush sitting high on his cheeks. “Yes.”

“Do you-” I cut myself off as I realized how inappropriate that question was, but he answered anyways.

“No I do not always cum in my pants, that was the first time.” He glared lightly at me with a sassy tone and I couldn’t help but laugh lightly at the situation. “Oh you think it's funny?” He teased, laughing a bit too as he leaned back forwards towards me.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh at-” I was cut off by my own gasp as he pressed his fingers against me again. They slipped in easily now but felt just as filling.

“Can you blame me?” He asked, lips grazing against the crease between my thigh and core, forcing my body to arch into him. “The way you look right now.” He pressed a kiss to the indent of my hip and I let out a strangled noise at the sensation mixed with how he curved his fingers inside of me. “The sounds you make.”

“Tetsu,” I whined out his name as his thumb brushed against my clit, his teeth sinking lightly into my thigh.

He groaned at the noise. “My name falling from your lips like that is straight out of my dreams.”

“Please, Tetsurou,” I whimpered, fingers tugging at his hair and begging for him to look up at me again.

“What do you need from me, love?” He mumbled into my skin, looking up at me through the hood of his lashes.

“Tell me you love me like I love you,” I begged then. I watched him process the words. Eyes widening at first, clearly not being what he expected before he relaxed into a smile.

“Princess,” he mumbled, kissing my hip again, “I fell in love with you when I met you.” He dragged his lips across my skin to press another sloppy kiss just above my navel. “I love you now.” He dragged his lips again, a wet kiss just between my breasts as he drew his fingers out of me, despite my protests. “I will love you forever.” He kissed the base of my throat as his hands gripped my waist, arching my body to fit against his.

“And when ‘forever’ ends,” he hovered his lips above mine, looking me in the eyes so that I could see his complete sincerity, “I’ll love you some more.”

His lips crashed down against mine again and it felt like everything in my world fell into place.

"How the hell did you get that...?"

"Didn't you look at the top of the periodic table?"

You struggled to hold back your frustrations as you jabbed your finger at the numbers you wrote above the columns, aside from the transition metals. Kuroo only reflected your feelings with his eyebrows semi-permanently stitched together—all because he couldn't figure out that "CuTe" wasn't simply copper telluride.

Kuroo was used to being good at anything. Volleyball, Japanese, mathematics, classical literature, height—you name it, he's probably one of the top people for that category. Even nearing the end of his first year, he was making waves among the student body of Metropolitan Nekoma High School.

Then, chemistry hit his little overachiever brain right where it hurts.

Whether it was the amount of time he spent after school or the changing seasons for the dark sky when he reaches home doesn't matter, he's spending way too much time on nomenclature rather than on much more productive uses of his time, such as an eight hour video game marathon with Kenma (with the volleyball break at least every two hours) or actually catching up with the rest of his chemistry class.

When the "anything" becomes the inevitable "not everything," he has a little adjusting to do.

"I didn't write on top of these columns for no reason."

You used your pencil to circle the written numbers that you already written, even going as far as to write asterisks as if he'd go "Hey, little stars! that must make it important!"

How embarrassing for him.

For most of both of your first year, you and Kuroo haven't really talked that much. For some reason, the universe decided being in the same room for more than 200 days of the year wasn't the best time to get acquainted. However, somehow two weeks before both midterms and the prefectural qualifiers for nationals was.

Such a short amount of time to get your fellow classmate in shape for chemistry—ignoring Kuroo's struggles—is still quite the big responsibility for such a young first-year in two ways: the weight of helping someone succeed and the weight of succeeding so the others' efforts aren't in vain.

"Hey, I get it, I get it," he scoffed. "I was supposed to remember those numbers as the charges—"

Kuroo promptly swatted your hand away and took his table back, using scratch paper to copy it down.

"Tellurium needs to gain two electrons in order to have a full shell, so copper would need to lose two electrons give them to tellurium to balance the compound," he muttered to himself. "I don't need you writing all over my paper to tell me that.

With a hand running through his thick hair once a dark "copper (II) telluride" had been etched into his paper (and probably his school desk) he honestly felt a little bit lighter, his mind clearer. Perhaps that was to his detriment—he isn't ignorant to taking out his grievances toward ionic nomenclature on you, who so kindly agreed to help him after the last class of the day so he could finish this stupid worksheet...

"Sorry, you didn't need—"

"No no," you swatted his apology rather then swat his hand, which was threatening to let go of your pencil and awkwardly clatter on to the floor. "You... actually got it.

He ended up dropping that pencil.

Twinkles in people's eyes aren't real. There's no flash of light across your eyes, conveniently shining for Kuroo so he'd know what as showing in your head. However, there was the slight wrinkle in your skin when your eyes reached higher with the help of your lips' corners.

Much like the fictional twinkles, it flickered away from your eyes, and his gaze follows to the next question on the worksheet.

The balance of guiding success and maintaining success is ever the delicate one, especially if you're like Kuroo in his first-year purposely getting questions wrong and later correct just to see those "twinkles" in your eyes again.

​then came the fukurodani summer camp. the heat was melting everyone’s brains, but kuroo was on a mission. on the final night, under the cicada-heavy air, he cornered you, not in a scary way, but in a ‘my knees are actually shaking’ way.

​“look,” he had started, his voice cracking like a middle schooler’s. “i know we live hundreds of kilometers apart. i know i’m just a guy from tokyo with hair that defies the laws of physics—but a very handsome one—and a laugh that sounds like a hyena having a mid-life crisis. but if you don’t let me be your boyfriend, i think i might actually wither away like a neglected houseplant. i’ve got it bad. i’ve got it so bad that i’ve started liking karasuno’s black and orange team uniforms just because i saw that they also got you a custom one. please. give me a chance. i’ll be the best. i’ll be so good you can boss me around anytime, and i’d say thank you.”

​it was the longest, most desperate, most strangely poetic ramble you’d ever heard. you melted faster than an ice cube on the pavement, pulled him down by his collar, and kissed the rambling right out of him.

𓏵

​fast forward to the present, and the long-distance thing? kuroo handled it like a man that has the spirit of a thousand devoted golden retrievers.

​three hundred kilometers is a lot for some people, but for kuroo, it was just a distance he could bridge with excessive delivery orders. you’d mention a craving for strawberry shortcake at 2:00 pm, and by 4:00 pm, a delivery driver would be at your door in miyagi with a box from the best bakery in town and a note that said: ‘eat up, my beautiful treasure. i’m currently hugging my pillow and pretending it’s you.’

​he sent you flowers for no reason. he sent you ‘thinking of you’ care packages that were 90% snacks and 20% hoodies he’d worn for three days straight so they smelled like him. his letters were the worst, long, sappy, ink-smudged manifestos of his devotion.

​but lately, the ‘jokes’ had started.

​“you know,” he’d say over facetime, lounging on his couch in a tank top that showed off way too much shoulder, “the guest room in my apartment is looking really lonely. it’s actually crying. i heard it sob today. it said, ‘tetsu, why isn’t she living here yet?’ and i didn’t have an answer.”

​then he’d show you the room. he’d turned it into a sanctuary. your favorite candles were on the nightstand. the bookshelves were stocked with your favorite series. the bedding was the exact shade of the color you once mentioned you liked. he was actively luring you. he was baiting the trap with high-thread-count sheets and domestic stability.

​and god, you were hungry for the bait.

​saturday night. tokyo.

​kenma, the unsung hero of your romantic life, had been your inside man. he’d driven you from the station, mocking kuroo’s ‘pining puppy’ energy the entire way.

​“he’s going to lose his mind,” kenma muttered as he pulled up to the lavish apartment complex. “he’s been moping all day because you didn’t text him back. he thinks you’re mad. he’s probably currently staring at a wall in silence.”

​kenma helped you get your bags to the door, rang the bell, and then evaporated into thin air like a ninja. he didn’t want to be there for the sheer amount of sap that was about to occur.

​you stood there, heart hammering against your ribs. you heard footsteps. heavy ones. the door swung open and there he was, kuroo, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a shirt that said science is cool, looking absolutely dejected.

​“kenma, if you’re here to tell me i’m being dramatic about the lack of texts, i—”

​he stopped. his jaw practically hit the floorboards. his eyes darted from your face to the suitcases at your feet, then back to your face. for a solid ten seconds, he looked like he’d forgotten how to breathe.

​he didn’t scream. he didn’t cheer. instead, he moved with a surreal, robotic sort of calm. he reached out, took your bags with hands that were visibly trembling, and stepped aside to let you in. he was so quiet it was actually terrifying.

​“tetsu?” you whispered, your nerves finally bubbling over. “are you… okay?”

​he set the bags down in the middle of the living room and turned to face you. the ‘calm’ facade shattered instantly. his hands were shaking so hard he had to shove them into his pockets, but then he took them out because he couldn’t stop himself from reaching for you.

​he lunged, not to tackle you, but to fold himself around you like you were the last source of oxygen on the planet. he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath hitching in ragged, heavy bursts.

​“you didn’t text me,” he choked out, his voice thick and wobbly. “i thought… i thought you were tired of me. i was sitting here planning how to drive to miyagi at midnight just to check if you still liked my face. and then i open the door and you’re here. with bags. tell me those bags mean what i think they mean.”

​“i’m moving in, tetsu,” you murmured, rubbing his back. “i’m staying.”

​a sound escaped him, a jagged, pathetic little sob-laugh. he pulled back just enough to frame your face in his large, warm palms. his eyes were wet, sparkling with a level of adoration that felt almost heavy.

​“i love you so much it’s actually embarrassing,” he rambled, his words tripping over each other. “i was so scared. i was genuinely terrified that i’d finally annoyed you into silence. but you’re here. in my house. you’re going to be in that room i decorated. you’re going to be in my kitchen. i’m going to see you every morning? i’m going to wake up and you’ll just… be there? i don’t think you understand. i’m going to be the most annoying roommate in history. i’m never letting you leave this apartment. i’ll lock the door and throw the key into the sumida river. i’ll be your personal chef, your foot massager, your bodyguard, anything.”

​he kissed you then, and it wasn’t a ‘welcome home’ kiss. it was a ‘i have been starving for you and finally, i am full’ kiss. it tasted like relief and far too much caffeine.

​he pulled away, resting his forehead against yours, his chest still heaving. “i have the guest room ready, but just so you know, my bed is much bigger and i have a heated blanket. just a suggestion. a humble proposal from your very desperate, very relieved boyfriend.”

​you laughed, feeling the vibration of his own chuckles against your lips. kuroo was a lot of things, a dork, a former captain, but standing there in his living room, he was mostly just a man who had successfully trapped his favorite person in the world, and he looked like he’d just won the olympics, the lottery, and a lifetime supply of your attention all at once.

ps. you didn’t sleep in the guest room that night, or any other night for that matter.

n: all i could think about while writing this is his back, like mmm back muscles..

tetsurō’s taglist 1/3

@lsirria @cvntyandfasionable @the-bloopsters @moon-blizz0 @trulyylee @nelinkythoughts @kukikoooo @n-o-b-o-d-y123 @averys-place @reverd-ck @sxnnee @anzuuhoshi @evilari111 @tetsurae @asyaacia @rabbitcola @eudaim0nia-a @yeonette @katzline @asthmaticasma @meonelixir @immortalblazethief @pelicanpizza @x3nafix @knkzshx @babybird-meena @depressinglyobsessed @buriedfifii @keiob @ghostwifeyy @mptality @crystal-lilac @methiart @forgottensniper @wensurr @emotiandon @alyriaschoenheit @rafsbeloved @suha-reads @adagio4strings @sillylule @horanghaepaws @ssssierrau @imjustanobody2024 @hibernatinghamster @olliesoxenfree @griffincorn @fiannee @snowstormsandavalanches @percybutjaeger @m0chablitz

© showhay — don’t copy nor translate without my permission. i do not own any of the photos that i have used. credits to all the rightful owners !

you love your TA job. you love teaching anatomy, you had loved taking the class itself, and the second-year students who make up the majority of your lab periods aren’t all that stupid. you do not love the smell of formaldehyde, however. you do not love handling the slippery sheep organs. you do not love the cleaning that it requires after the lab is complete. you especially do not love when your co-TA is running unexpectedly late and you will be expected to run the slimiest bits of the lab yourself. 

you glance at your phone screen. the three different texts you’ve sent him asking where the hell he is and if he even plans on showing up today are still unanswered and if he has indeed skipped the lab without telling you, your boss will be getting a strongly worded email.

it’s not even like kuroo’s a bad guy. a little annoying, sure, a little too talkative, most definitely. a little too good-looking to not be at least a little evil either. he is also annoyingly consistently tardy. but he is excellent at his job and his students adore him. he also just tends to get carried away in whatever the hell he’s doing and forget that you two are supposed to be partners. 

you sigh and pocket your phone, heading back up to the front of the room. the students have five more minutes to finish their pre-lab quiz, meaning you have five more minutes to drag out the buckets of organs from the storage room and begin counting out the dissection equipment. the slides for the brief lecture that the TAs are supposed to give prior to the practical lab portion are already up on the monitors; you can’t pretend there’s anything else to do. 

sighing deeply once again and picturing which medieval torture methods you’d like to use first on your coworker, you enter the storeroom. the buckets are unpleasantly full and the lids are not secure at all; formaldehyde splashes all over the floor as soon as you lift them and you curse loudly. you don’t even care that your entire classroom definitely heard, you don’t care that you can hear their muted titters from behind the door. all you can think of is upending one or maybe even both buckets over kuroo tetsurou’s head.

thankfully the door opens before you need to put a bucket down to do so yourself. one of the girls who sit towards the front half of the lab sticks her head in. 

“hey, d’you need any help with that?” she eyes the buckets warily, wrinkling her nose. “it smells terrible here, wow.”

“yeah,” you huff, struggling to pass her one. “my clothes are going to stink all week.”

she nods sympathetically, taking the bucket from you and stepping back so you can exit and close the door behind you with your foot. you smile gratefully and make a mental note to do your best to inflate the hell out of her lab grade. 

“also, the other TA guy’s here.”

“oh, is he?” you mutter, narrowly avoiding getting another dribble of kidney juice on your shoes. “lovely.” 

and she is right; kuroo is here. he’s leaned on the glass while a few students from the stations closest to the door attempt to unlock it. he’s gesturing wildly at the back of the room, mouthing something at them that none of you can hear through the glass and you feel a twinge of satisfaction at the way he looks somewhat frantic. not nearly as stressed as you feel, but it’s a start. when he sees you, his face lights up in relief. he waves animatedly, pointing at the lock and you can tell he knows you’re the only one with the key on you. with the fakest smile you can muster in place, you make your way over to the lab doors and unlock it agonizingly slowly. 

“thank you,” kuroo says breathlessly, sliding his backpack off his shoulders. he’s wearing a suit, you see, and a tie- a frustratingly flattering suit. it hugs his shoulders just right, showing off their width without being too tight a fit, but is not flattering enough to overpower the anger in your mind. you wonder where on earth the man has been that requires a full suit and tie. normally, he’s wearing a ratty sweatshirt that barely passes lab safety standards and what looks like the same pair of jeans he’s owned since he was seventeen years old. his hair is different too; he’s sporting his typical tousled glory, but it looks less like bedhead and more like there were attempts to gel it back that did not quite work. 

the look is really working for him.

whatever. you don’t care. 

you don’t acknowledge kuroo any further. you shoo students away from the door, telling them it’s time for the lecture, and head back up to the monitors.

“okay, everybody go ahead and close your laptops now. we’re starting the urinary system this week, so your first lab is going to be a kidney dissection one. nothing crazy, you’ll just have to take pictures and label the basic anatomical structures listed on the rubric.” you can see kuroo opening his mouth in the periphery of your vision; the kidney labs are some of his favorite, you know from last semester, and you just know he’s gearing up to interrupt your flow. he means no harm, but you’d still rather die than let him talk over you right now. “when i finish going over the slides, you can see kuroo here to collect your organs. one per pair, please. we have some extras if anything crazy happens, but not that many so please be careful.”

kuroo deflates out of the corner of your eye. you know he hates handling the organs as much as you do and you know it’s petty to make him do so while he’s wearing what is probably his only suit, but you could not care less. you’re mad at him and when you’re mad you’re petty. and you’re planning on ignoring him for as much of the lab period as you can.

the lecture is one you’ve given a few times before, both in your other lab sections and in the previous semesters that you’ve been a TA for this course. you go through your notes without a hitch, and the majority of the lab seems to actually be paying attention. maybe they can sense what a shit mood you’re in and know not to test their luck right now. either way, you’re not complaining. 

kuroo is watching you talk too, you know. you’re still not looking at him but you can feel him looking at you, large warm brown eyes darting between you and your professor’s slides that you had doctored into cohesion. it’s about halfway through the presentation that he seems to remember there is more prep work required, and ducks into the storeroom to retrieve the dissection trays, scissors and blades. he also snaps on two pairs of gloves to grope blindly through the buckets for the kidneys without saying anything to you. 

when everyone has received an organ, kuroo strips his gloves and ambles up to your monitor. “big puddle of formaldehyde in the storeroom, by the way. we should get that cleaned up.”

your jaw tightens involuntarily. “that’s what happens when i have to do two peoples’ jobs by myself.”

he sighs. “look, i’m sorry. i really am. i had a really important interview that took way longer than expected and i just couldn’t get a message to you in time.”

you finally turn to look at him, sympathy prickling in your throat. “oh. i’m sorry.” and you really are. everybody’s been there, and if it really is just a one-time thing then-

“what? oh, it didn’t go badly. they offered me the job right away, i just got caught up in talking to the recruiter about-”

you jerk your face away. cocky bastard. you’re never bothering to feel sorry for him again.

“hey, hey, i still really am sorry, okay?” the sincerity in his voice is what makes you finally turn your head back to him. “let me make it up, please? let’s go get coffee after lab. on me.”

you cannot believe your ears. “i don’t need your pity coffee, kuroo.”

he looks aghast. “this isn’t pity coffee, i swear. i really feel bad about making you do all the slimy lab prep yourself.”

“that is the exact definition of pity coffee. you walk in twenty minutes after the period starts, forty minutes after you’re supposed to be here and think one shitty campus coffee can make up for having me do the bulk of the work for the most prep-heavy lab of the semester?” you drag a hand down your face. “and you were late because your job interview went so well you just couldn’t leave the recruiter alone. of all the excuses you’ve given me for being late, this is the worst. and if this isn’t a pity coffee i don’t know what is.”

“i know i’m being a dick today and i swear it isn’t pity coffee.” he sighs, mouth opening and closing a couple times as if he’s mulling over what he’s about to say.  “if it helps… i’ve wanted to take you out for a while now. ever since we got paired up that first semester last year. and i promise it won’t be shitty cheap campus coffee either. i’ll take you to a good cafe. cross my heart and all that.”

you tilt your head. his eyes are sincere; alight with some other emotion you can’t quite place. his words are sending little thrills through you as well; you can’t help being intrigued at what coffee with kuroo tetsurou might be like.

“fine.”

kuroo lights up, about to launch into speech, and you hold up a finger.

“but only if you’re never late again. ten minutes early, actually. and you carry all the organ buckets for the rest of the year.”

“Um,” Kenma leaned his face closer to his screen, the blonde pieces of his hair concealing the light flush of his cheeks. “Do you play video games?” 

Your pace slowed down, allowing Kenma to stumble blindly a few feet forward before he realized your presence no longer accompanied him. And he thought he broke you. The setter’s prefrontal cortex glitched; the reasoning within the left side of his brain broken — he fucked up. He was stupid enough to think a girl as pretty as you dabbled in something that required a lack of social skills. 

But then you smiled. Your eyes twisting towards the road as you patted your fingertips underneath your chin as you went into thought. “I’m not the best at fps, but story-driven? Yeah, that’s my shit.” Really, you loved that he asked. You missed the cozy nights in your own room, the cat curled on the end of your bed as the lava lamp helped illuminate the graphics. So, any moment to discuss the warmth of that feeling brought gaiety. “Until Dawn was kind of my awakening… Actually scratch that, Wind Waker was the start of my obsession. Ohhh, and when I got introduced to Animal Crossing — game over.”

Kenma couldn’t believe it. He couldn’t fathom that you just poured into a list of games you cherished. Some of the very ones he actually played, in fact. “Animal Crossing?” 

“Yup!” You shifted on the balls of your feet. “Fuck Tom Nook though, I owe him way too many bells. Surprised he hasn’t actually arrested me for consistently dodging the abd on the terminal machine.” 

Truthfully, Kenma wasn’t going to offer you a chance to play on his switch. He was content with the idea of you resting on the blankets, observing the consistent wins he’d achieve in boss battles. But then your face lit up. The genuine smile that you rarely ever showed now radiating the surrounding area… all because of him, and his simple question. “Did you want to play?”

“Play?”

He nodded. “You can do whatever you want on my island. I need to add more to my museum anyway, so it’d be great if you could contribute.” 

Did Kenma just speak more than one sentence? Oh my God. 

You shook your head frantically, your pace doubling in speed. It was the first time you could do something remotely normal, something that filled your head with ease instead of a jumble of puzzle pieces you couldn’t quite fit into place. 

Kenma tried to match your speed. He swiveled his head upwards and downwards, attempting to pay attention to the battle on his phone while he dodged curbs and lamp posts. Hell, you were too focused on swindling Tom Nook to even consider the possibility of his parents at home (thankfully, they were gone at work — you’d probably have a heart attack if you ran into them). 

And as soon as Kenma unlocked his door, you ran. Your shoes were kicked off mid-stride, socks pattering against the floor as Mochi darted out from beneath the couch, tail high and curious. He followed you without hesitation, hopping onto the bed the second you did. It was exactly how you remembered it — the faint scent of fabric softener, the tucked covers near the wall, the quiet hum of electronics. A small fragment of your day-to-day that felt untouched: The one place beginning to feel more like repose than anguish. 

Except the only thing that kept it from feeling like vestige was a missing purple glow bleeding from the right side of his desk. “You should get a lava lamp.” 

“Huh?” Kenma looked up from the floor, knees pressed into the wood as he dug through his bag. “A lava lamp?”

You nodded indolently, stretching out to give Mochi space as he climbed onto your stomach, a pleased purr vibrating against you while your fingers scratched behind his ear. Kenma’s eyes narrowed slightly at the betrayal. Yep, he was still a traitor. But his gaze shifted involuntarily  when Mochi moved again, tugging your sweater up just enough to expose a sliver of skin. 

His throat tightened at the reveal: Oh what he’d do to — No. Kenma get it together. You were speaking. “Whenever I play, I usually turn mine on. Makes the room warmer. Well, not temperature-wise but like… I don’t know, just feels less lonely.” 

Kenma made mental note of that. He was definitely going to buy one. 

He stood, finally producing his Switch and handing it to you with a small explanation of his island. Most fruits were collected, the museum nearly complete with all species of fish, and seasonal clothes were fully stocked for future events. But when you scrolled, sweeping your eyes across the spring essentials, you couldn’t help but snort. “Why do you have five orange bucket hats?”

He stilled, irises as insipid as ever. “They’re resourceful.” 

“They’re identical.”

His straightened brows indented inwards at your rebuttal. Sure, they all were the same, but each one had a calculated weekday associated with it. Besides, Shoyo was always one to steal them. “They’re needed.”

You meant to invalidate that assertion, just like you did to his previous objection. But with the way his pupils blew wide, trembling slightly as though the logical side of his brain listed rational explanations for each hat, you decided it was best to leave it alone. Well, until you came face-to-face with his friend’s list. “Who’s TinyGiant2.0?”

“Hinata.” He shrugged. 

Your eyes widened, torso already straightened upwards: Mochi slid off your stomach in protest. “Can I text him to come to the island?!”

He hesitated — not because of Hinata. But because of the way you looked right now. For the first time, you seemed… comfortable. Kenma didn’t have to peer through a fractured mask; he was seeing you for you. A bright, beautiful, and insanely nerdy girl. 

And this world, the one you had found yourself in, didn’t feel so bad anymore. At least, temporarily. 

“Fine.” He muttered.

And as you quickly began typing out a chaotic island invite, Kenma leaned back against his desk, watching you. He wasn’t sick — not really. But the heat didn’t leave his body; something was warm, and he couldn’t quite place what. 

Surely though, it would vanish. The perspiration on his temples would subside and the pang in his abdomen would level out. There was no way in hell he’d let such a mundane instance influence his emotions — so why was he so… giddy? 

Normally he’d be infuriated with someone overtaking his room. But when you laughed, when his cat chose you over him, and his console sat in your hands instead of his, he adored it. Finally, a person took notice of his interests. And they didn’t pester him with volleyball. 

“Your house is huge,” you noted, body curling in on itself as your head found the pillow. “How much do you owe Tom Nook with all these expansions?” 

Kenma didn’t hear you. His heart was pounding too rough against the cage of his ribs to listen to a single syllable that slipped your throat. The left hemisphere of his brain had been stuck on go, a list of what-ifs running rampant in this situation: Should he sit down? Should he keep distance? 

It was infuriating, really, not knowing the outcomes to each strategic input. With games and volleyball it was predictable; he could stand on the other side and calculate a player's next move. Their last ditch effort to score a point. But you? You were unpredictable. Which made it all the more worse for Kenma. 

“Oh, wait no I see it on the terminal.” You were oblivious to the sweat stained trousers Kenma wore, the slick on his palms swiping continuously against the polyester in a futile attempt to keep his nerves at bay. “4 million?! Oh yeah, no, I’m avoiding Tom Nook.” 

He conjured up an emotionless chuckle. Fuck. He was acting like a complete hermit, someone that stationed themselves in front of a screen instead of interacting with humans. If it was Kuroo, he would’ve strided over to the bed, digits on your leg as he leaned over to watch you play. But he didn’t have that kind of confidence, and he never really would. 

The only mental relief came from you. Your hands patting the spot next to you once Shoyo island-hopped to Kenma’s. “Hinata is on! Let’s mess with him.” 

And mess with him you did. You ushered Karasuno’s middle blocker over to the river, feigning innocence as you buried pitfall traps around him. You even gave him a sliver of hope, stating Kenma had built an obstacle course on the far side of the island. He followed blindly, trying to keep up with your pace as you ran circles around the map. 

The kicker? Hinata spent ten minutes behind you just to see a small exercise ball resting against a peach tree. 

“How do you know how to do this?” Kenma asked. 

You shrugged, body shifting slightly as Mochi intercepted your bodies. “I did it all the time to my friends.” 

Friends. That word stung. And you couldn’t help but wonder if they were looking for you. If your phone, which blocked old contacts, was flooding with anxious texts and pleas to come home. 

But you didn’t know how. And honestly, you didn’t really know if you wanted to. 

You told yourself you’d search, that you’d circle the vicinity to capture a lining of familiarity, chase any flicker of recognition that might guide you back to your family. But every time you tried, something happened: chaos ensued, distractions thrown your way. It was almost laughable — the way the universe seemed to rearrange itself just enough to keep you stationed here.  And realistically, it was working.

The world 1: you 0

It was like whiplash the way the past few hours molded your concept of your new reality. Funnily enough, beside the occasional panic attacks, you were beginning to enjoy everyone’s company: The slight teasing from Kuroo, the frantics from Bokuto, and the sweet messages from the Karasuno team.

“Hey, Kenma?” The boy beside you glanced up from his screen, golden eyes blinking once as his shoulder brushed yours by accident. The contact was light, barely tangible, but he still felt it. “When are preliminaries?” 

The setter opened his mouth to respond; but then he caught the shine. Not enough to fall, but enough to gather at the corner of your sclera. And he knew that look all too well; inner turmoil. It was the same expression he had whenever Kuroo tried dragging him somewhere he wasn’t sure he belonged. That internal tug-of-war between comfort and obligation. “4 weeks from now.” 

You nodded… 4 weeks. 

It wasn’t the longest timeframe, but still, it didn’t feel short either. There was no way you could crash at Kenma’s for that timeframe. And what about school? You had no paperwork, no legal documents to prove your birth — entering academics would just sound alarm bells. 

“I have a feeling you’re doing a debate.” Mochi was the first to respond to his statement, nudging his nose underneath your chin in an effort to have you scratch behind his ear again. “Internally.” 

“No, I’m okay.” Another lie. 

Kenma was never one to budge. In fact, he loathed when people pushed for answers. And yet, here he was, torso tilted backwards as he crammed his face back to the screen, fingernails dug on the grooves of his teeth. “I don’t — your family… I don’t know much,” he paused, briefly, before continuing. “You can always stay here.” 

Now that sounded ridiculous. “Your parents would allow that?” 

“Pretty sure my dad always wanted a daughter.” He shrugged. “They’d love having you around.”

You shouldn’t have pondered that offer. It was rude, staying in someone else’s house for months on end with barely any connection. But it stuck like glue on the bottom of a shoe. And you couldn't help but imagine what it would be like; constant sleepovers, different friends… a new life. 

On the outside, it sounded wondrous. 

But you couldn’t escape the begrudging inevitable: school. You basically told the group you were attending a tiny private academy, one geared more to studies than athletics. What would they say if you switched up the lie? How would you even cover for it? Hi, sorry about my little fib. I’m actually a Nekoma student but felt embarrassed. 

God, for someone who lies so much, you quite suck at it. 

Then, Kenma spoke; words flowing out of his mouth that even surprised him. “Why not transfer to Nekoma?” You fumbled with the gadget, the pad of your thumb swiping against the left stick. It was weird — like he was subconsciously reading your mind. As if somehow he had connected to your brain via bluetooth. “You’d be a great manager.” 

“Manager?” 

He shrunk into the cushion of the bed, the top of his head dangerously close to the edge of your shoulder. He wanted to hide. He wanted to grab a hoodie and wrap it around his ears to conceal the faint pink that betrayed just how socially inept he was. “For volleyball. Yamamoto might have a heart attack — but that’s okay.”

This was your opening. The small gap the universe provided. “That sounds… Nice.” 

Kenma wanted to throw up right there. This whole discussion had sent him on flight or fight, the normal gears in his brain untuned and dangerously rattling. But when things fell back into silence, your gaze fixated back on his character and Mochi curled at the end of y’alls feet, was he able to let out a sigh of relief. 

And close his eyes. 

Being talkative was so draining. Something that even you noticed; head wobbling over to the roots of his hair, eyelids drooping, your right hand curling into the hem of his shirt. Nothing could really wake the two of you up. Not the sound from the small speakers, not the cat adjusting positions. And definitely not Kuroo hobbling inside late at night after a long practice. 

Tetsuro stilled at the doorway, gym bag slung lazily over his shoulder while he eyed the two of you. The captain was never one to observe so scrupulously, that was Kenma’s role. But right now? Right now all he took in was the way you were curled slightly inward, one hand fisted loosely in the fabric of Kozume’s shirt like you’d grabbed onto it mid-dream and never let go.

Kenma, overtime, had shifted on his back, head tilted toward you, one arm draped around your waist. The room felt… strained. Like Kuroo wasn’t meant to be there. But he replayed your question, your words recycling like a reel within his mind: You invited him to sleepover. 

So why did he feel like he was intruding?

But what was worse was the realization of how at ease Kenma appeared. He had seen his friend passed out on moving buses, on top of bleachers, on the side of a court — never once had he seen him sleep like this, though. 

From the moment Kuroo met Kenma, observing as he lazily passed the ball, it was already solidified that his new friend wasn’t the type to entangle himself with another person; especially not a girl. “Huh.” He whispered. 

He told himself it was surprising. That was all. The twist in his abdomen was nothing more than confusion and guilt for interrupting. Then you shifted, face angling closer into Kenma, fingers tugging his shirt unconsciously. Kenma’s arm reacted without waking, his grip tightened just a fraction more. 

And Kuroo’s jaw flexed. 

The middle blocker stepped forward, fully prepared to wake up the odd rest session y’all had found yourselves in. His hand hovered over your shoulder, the Adam's apple in his throat caught. You looked so peaceful. The most serene he’d seen you since you appeared at the doorstep of Nekoma’s gym. 

And it hurt. It hurt that it wasn’t him giving you that ease… it was Kenma. Tetsuro was never good at the quiet parts. The only way he’d ever get you to break into solace was with his chemistry jokes. But he didn’t think someone as gorgeous as you was nerdy enough to find enjoyment in that. 

So, when Kenma blinked, eyes peered up at his friend, Kuroo gave a weakened smirk. He outstretched the blanket from the floor over the two of you. And once Kenma fell back into slumber, he left. 

He walked out and did his best to forget the twitch in his arm as he spiked a volleyball into the side of the apartment wall. 

♡ Hinata's response to you messing with him ♡

₊˚⊹♡

author's note: I feel really proud of this chapter. Ugh, I love angst. (you guys see how Kenma and Kuroo just keep comparing themselves to each other hehe). Also, Hinata getting pranked and his response on text lmaoo. Oh and I keep seeing lava lamps all over tiktok so I added it to your personality I'm so sorry.

Also, I'm still writing for my requests! I should have them done by the end of the week!

(I have so much money I owe Tom Nook on Animal Crossing it's not funny guys)