#nerdkenma

“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 ♡

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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)