Chapter Text
i.
The scene: kitchen, at seven in the morning. Kuroo is sitting down and holding his mug with shaking fingers, Bokuto is leaning forward on the table, his hands gripping the sides, the wood embedding itself into his palms. The dorms are quiet. Kei is sleeping in the bedroom, exhausted from the night before. Bokuto and Kuroo are also exhausted, but one of them is thinking about leaving while the other is vacillating between disappointment and hopefulness: surely he was mistaken. Surely he's overthinking this. Surely he can still trust him.
"I left here a while ago. We got drunk with a couple of friends; it was raining; I changed clothes. He loaned me your stuff. It's nothing serious - "
"I didn't think it was," Bokuto interrupts him tersely. He stands up, folds his arms over his chest. Kuroo was taller than Bokuto by a few inches, but there's something about him that's larger than life and diffused with a kind of energy so bright it can easily engulf you. That's probably what made Kei attracted to him in the first place, and acknowledging that thought is making him feel all kinds of choked up. He's defeated this guy on the court a hundred times, and the two of them have competed in everything else but have remained friends despite everything, but there's always that kind of spark in him that Kuroo can't hold and that's what's making him feel utterly jealous right now.
That's just exactly what he's full of right now: jealousy. He recognizes it in the way his fingers burn against the ceramic mug where his coffee runs cold in between their silences, the way Bokuto's eyes soften at his confession when he doesn't realize what he's done. It's not in him to lie, but he'd rather keep the peace instead of fighting him head on, even if that means persistently wading his way through this mess.
He thinks that this must also be what being with him is like. Kei had never been one for confrontations, but when push comes to shove, he'd face them head on, stubbornly butt heads against Bokuto the way he's seen him do it before, and Bokuto would always think it impressive because it means he's considering him as an equal; one to fight with, one to fall in love with, and there's a gap between that acknowledgement and where Kuroo is that he feels is just out of his reach.
"Then what did you think it was?" Kuroo drinks his coffee, looks at him over the rim of the mug.
Bokuto sighs. He gives him a tired smile. "I just - look, it's weird fucking him while wearing your sweatpants, alright. But I might just be getting worked up. I haven't talked to him in weeks. I - "
He turns away. Grits his teeth. "I'm a bit jealous of you."
Kuroo looks at him in surprise. ".... what."
"You're with him all the time. Your personalities are a bit similar. I'm not - like that, and I'm still learning about him even now. Maybe I confessed too early, maybe I should've spent more time learning about him instead of just asking him straight up when I felt like - there could be something. We could be something." he laughs ruefully. "Maybe I've made a mistake."
His mind is awash with a torrent of embarrassment and guilt, and he sets his mug aside. "Bokuto. He likes you. He worries about you. I admit, I probably didn't help since I dragged him with my gang everywhere, but he's talking to people and he's doing his best to survive here. He's scared of the university, he finds it difficult that he's far away from you. I'm not - I'm not trying to take him - from you."
That was a lie.
That was a lie, and yet -
Bokuto looks at him, purses his lips. Rubs the back of his neck a bit as he considers Kuroo's words, and then replies with, "I guess that was ... uncalled for, to just randomly ask you about this and stuff. I didn't mean to accuse."
"No. It's nothing. Don't worry about it. You guys just had your first big fight, it's normal to feel insecure about a lot of things."
"Yeah." Bokuto takes a deep breath; exhales. Kuroo feels himself dying. He feels like folding himself into a small bird dying in the winter of cold. This shouldn't be a competition, and yet he was in a position to make a move and take something that he'd been wanting for so long. The price of this was to lie to him and tell Bokuto that he was lying, and yet - did he not consider the kiss a victory? Did he not consider his defiance attractive? Can't this be called romance if this is what passes as romance for them? He'd done nothing that Bokuto wouldn't do for Kei himself, this infidelity is as boring and commonplace as they come and he's well aware that both of them have passed what's ethical for people in love, but he's not about to give up on him when he's gotten this far.
Bokuto's insecurities are no joke, but Kuroo's not buying it. He's one of the strongest guys he knows, and the strongest of men always knew how to rid themselves of their despair and turn it into a weapon. He's not the type of guy to wallow in his misery. Bokuto will forget, and when he does, he will look at him in the same way Kei had looked at him when he asked, tell me what - that look of power, stubbornness, and something raw that can blind him. He knows. He's known the guy for far too long.
"Thanks for taking care of him," Bokuto tells him. He's trying to be cheerful again, and Kuroo can appreciate the gesture. To change the topic, he asks: "is he sleeping still?"
"Yeah. He never had the stamina." Bokuto laughs, grateful to talk about something else. "But I don't mind. I haven't been with him in so long."
He remembers how they both looked that night, Bokuto tied up against the headboard and his body arched as he thrusts into Kei's ass, and Kei riding him fast and hard while he moaned, opening his mouth to gather drops of his cum from his cock -
Kuroo smiles.
"Glad you're around. I was starting to get worried about you guys."
"Well I was worried for a bit too." He yawns. "But we're gonna be fine. Anyway, sorry to keep you from your rest. You wanna go home now, I won't stop you."
"I think I'll do that. No offense, but it's too damn early."
"None taken."
He stands up. Finishes his coffee, puts it in the sink and washes it for him. Bokuto watches him in silence, his face impassive, and Kuroo finds it ... disconcerting. He doesn't know where Bokuto picks that intensity, his moods are about as mutable as the storm. He can handle Bokuto's exuberance, but his silences are another matter: they can mean everything from disappointment to wrath, and at the moment he's hoping that he falls somewhere in the middle of this metronome where he's able to keep in time on his good side.
Bokuto walks him out to the door, watches him put his shoes in that same intense silence, and gives him a small grin when he waves as he opens the door.
"See you."
"See you. And, Kuroo?"
He looks back.
Bokuto's no longer smiling as he holds the door with a hand.
"I'm keeping an eye on you. You know, as a friend."
And then he closes the door on his pale face.
ii.
Bokuto slips back into the bed with Kei later on, wrapping his hands around his waist and kissing his shoulder. He shifts in his hold, shivering, and Bokuto smiles against his skin and pulls the blanket over them.
"Where did you go?" Kei asks, sleepily. He thinks that it's too early for him to be awake still, and he's not even bothering to open his eyes as he turns towards Bokuto and buries his face near his neck as Kei lets him pull him closer.
"Bathroom."
"You took forever. It was cold ..."
"Yeah, I know. Had to phone home too, I kinda just left in a hurry and forgot to tell my parents where I went."
"Oh ... don't do that."
"Mmm, they were worried a bit."
Kei dozes off.
Bokuto touches the bruises, marks on his skin from the night before. He thinks about Kei wearing his sweatpants and thinks how hot it was when he revealed his thighs to him as he pulled his sweatpants off of him daintily, thinks about how his thighs, his neck, his hips, are peppered with kisses from his mouth. His fingers trace bite marks slowly healing over the curve of his ass, and his hand curls around him possessively. He doesn't know what game Kuroo's playing, but if this is how things are going to be played, then he hopes that Kuroo is prepared to be disappointed.
He listens to Kei as he sleeps, his chest rising and falling gently against his own. In terms of the way he processes things, Bokuto likes to think that he's not too complicated. He's always been quite direct with what he wants and how he'd like to get it. In the time that Kei had been away, he can only imagine that he was working hard at not being lonely and connecting to others and hopefully not making the same mistakes that landed him in a crying fit in his kitchen a long time ago when they barely knew each other, except for a stint in a training camp a long time ago, but - what Bokuto knows is that he likes him a lot and he wants him to be happy. He's got a few insecurities of his own, and a lot of it stems from the fact that he's the more emotional one of the two of them, and Kei doesn't really handle that kind of display well. His friends are used to it, but Kei gets to be with him all the time, and Bokuto thinks that at some point in their relationship it must've felt so utterly monotonous and predictable that these habits, these moods, these petty little disagreements that they have, the distance involved in their relationship, the loneliness, their families crowding around them - it must've made things so difficult for someone like Kei who wanted reassurance and was so wanting in affection, but only in small doses, whereas Bokuto - Bokuto would give everything, if he asked. If he will accept.
Distance for him was the hardest to deal with. He was very physical in his affections, in public or private. He was very vocal in his wants and needs. Kei was a cipher, and the only time he was honest was when he was forced to a corner where his pride was threatened. Bokuto had no intentions of pushing him there, but once in a while he has to be provoked to come out clean about what he wants, because above all things Kei had no idea how to ask for the things he needs for himself without having to couch it around sarcasm or deliberately haughty demands. Perhaps it's because he's been hurt and disappointed by people around him that the only way he knows how to be affectionate is to demand for affection or to distance himself from its existence entirely. Bokuto can't really say he understands it, but what he understands of him is this: he is wanted, if only because he was more than dependable and honest, and Kei had come to value those traits in him.
He takes Kei wearing Kuroo's sweatpants as a mistake - but not one that was naively made. He thinks that there's something there, and to be honest, he's not entirely sure it's Kei's fault. But all the same - Kei called him. Kei called him, while Kuroo had said that he was there because circumstances made it convenient for him to end up in this room. It was not the same sentiment as being called, and that, in itself, already means to Bokuto that he had won. It's true that he's jealous of Kuroo for so many things, but the one thing that he's sure of - and he will always be sure of - is that where Kei is concerned, given his tendency to be private about so many things, whom he calls at his time of need matters the most. He may have reached out to him; Bokuto doesn't know. But he was the one who was called. He's not sure if Kuroo was willing to play this game with him - in fact he's not even sure if Kuroo thinks that he's still playing a game - but as far as Bokuto knows, the only thing that Kuroo will get from him is his own infectious magnanimity over love.
Bokuto kisses his forehead, his lips as he slept in his arms.
He thinks about the things that Kei dislikes about himself - his tendency to provoke, his self-effacing need to doubt his abilities, his tendency to draw a line with what he can achieve and can't, and contrasts that with the things he loves about him: his patience, his coolness, his practicality; all the things that he knows that isn't in him, and Bokuto feels more than hopeful. He holds him in his arms the way one would cordon off a museum, a crime scene, and in his arms he thinks, all of this is loveable and more than enough.
iii.
Kuroo lay staring at his bed for hours after the encounter with Bokuto, his cigarette burning between his fingers as he thinks to himself, again and again, what his words meant before he closed the door on his face.
Was he angry at him? It was possible. Bokuto wasn't stupid, he must've known, and yet all he had said was that he was watching him. Was that a threat? He can't handle a fight against Bokuto, for many reasons other than he was physically a lot better than he was, though he's hoping things wouldn't have to escalate to a fight at all. He doesn't doubt that he feels protective of Tsukki - he would too, if he were his - but all the same, stopping at I'm watching you seems like a feint than a palpable strike to the face.
He grinds the filter into his ash tray on the side. Sits up and rubs his face.
How do you forgive yourself for not becoming all the things that you've always wanted to become?
He thinks about all the times back in the training camp when Tsukki would thank him, quietly, for his help with Hinata and him, but he always thought there was something more beneath that quiet voice, which holds so much promise in it that he was moved by being recognized as a mentor with his polite gratitude, even if it were nothing more than a gesture thrown away in the interests of being nice to your seniors. As far as Kuroo was concerned he thought he'd breached a wall then and there, had followed through something private and had found something worthy of being acknowledged. And with the way Kei had held his hand, had let him hold him close, he thought that he had come close to touching something that he thought almost impossible the moment he had said goodbye to him as he boarded a bus to Sendai.
Or was it all in his head? Maybe to Kei it had been nothing but a series of gestures that had been repeated for him endlessly, and with infinite tenderness, the way Bokuto looked at you intensely and made you feel like you were the only thing in this earth worthy of being touched. He doesn't know what that look is like, he's never been exposed to Bokuto that way, but with the way Kei worries about him all the time then perhaps he's seen a lot more of him than Kuroo is privy to and he can't help but feel jealous of that, to think that he had somehow found a way to breach his defenses and allowed him to feel, as honestly as Kei would allow, what it would be like to be the half of someone else, to fit beside someone despite their petty disagreements and disjointed personalities mashed together. Kenma used to tell him that he was stubborn, that he blew through his relationships with the kind of focus that drew the other person in his desires without giving them a chance to slither away, the way cats sink their claws into their food. But one can't leave on affection alone for sustenance and Kuroo finds himself oddly frustrated with the way things turned out. He was always the captain, the reliable friend, the cool mentor, so why not something else - for someone else - why not something more than just these epithets he'd collected for himself along the way?
He glances at his phone. Opens a text message to Kei, gets as far as hey, Tsukki, do you wanna hang out? before discarding the message entirely. Opens a text message to him again with the question, hey, I just wanted to know where we stand, as far as I know I've always liked you but I want to know - and deletes it again. He lies down on his bed, his blankets smelling like his pal malls as he turns fitfully, thinking about things that should've happened but didn't - three years in high school is such a short time to build relationships along the way but somehow Bokuto made it work out; so what was wrong with him, what was he missing? He writes another text message, I want you to know that I am very much in - and deletes it again. He closes his eyes. He thinks about Kei opening his mouth for his dick as he came, thinks about the way he moaned when he bounced up and down his dick as he sucked his cock, thinks about how Bokuto must've peppered his thighs with kisses and covered his neck in bites, thinks about how his hand would curve around his waist in the morning and he must kiss his shoulders every time he wakes up, and he feels a dead weight around his chest at these things; how he could be doing that too, god, what was wrong with him. He writes I have been thinking about you for the past couple of - and deletes it, writes I miss you a lot - and deletes it, writes it hurts so much to think of you but god it's better than not feeling anything at all and he throws his phone to the side, frustrated, spent, tired. He falls asleep hours later clenching his blankets in his fist because it was better than punching a wall.
iv.
Kei texts him that Bokuto left later on. He didn't receive a message about this, the only thing he got from Bokuto when he woke up was a message saying
BK. Take care of him for me, and take care of yourself too.
you're just as important!!
and he's not entirely sure what to make of that either. If he's trying to kill him with kindness, then he's succeeding by the letter.
He texts Kei,
KT. Can I come over for lunch?
TK. If you don't mind eating salad, sure.
KT. I can bring something.
which is how he ends up bringing a still-warm tupperware full of onigiri for him in his apartment, and it occurs to Kuroo, belatedly as he washes his hands on the sink, that he has always been calling on Kei.
"Did you guys - fix things?"
Kei nods slowly. "Yes. We talked a bit, before he left. I apologized, he waved it off and said it didn't matter anymore, and that we'll be fine ..."
The way his voice trailed off seemed like he was hesitating to say something, and Kuroo glances at him while he was in the middle of serving himself some salad. "Tsukki ....?"
Kei's hand slowly clenches into a fist over his table. Bokuto had left him with a grin and a kiss, his hands warm around his waist the way he remembered them, always, and he thinks about how holding Kuroo's hand was just the same but it wasn't enough, and he loves them both, he truly does, but he will always come back to the moment when he cried in front of Bokuto in his kitchen and he told him he had a right to be upset, he had a right to feel. He thinks he's absolutely horrible. He thinks that he doesn't deserve this kindness, and yet - if it was freely given to him, then doesn't that mean that somehow, despite everything else, there's something about him that's worth staying for, that's worth smiling for, and wasn't that enough? Isn't that the only thing that a person should need?
He thinks about how happy he was with Kuroo during the game, during that night when he held his hand in the cold night after the pub, thinks about how his mouth was so warm against him when he kissed him, all of these things that he couldn't do back when he was just a high schooler and now here he was, fooling around like the way he encouraged him to, fooling around the way his father used to do and he used to despise him for so much, and despite everything else, someone found a reason to forgive him and he doesn't know what to do with it. He feels his face flush red at the memory, embarrassed at how much he relied on Kuroo to keep everything sane for him and how much he desperately wanted of Kuroo - and still does - and he tells him, "I thought of leaving him."
Kuroo was quiet.
"I thought of - thinking of - what he would say, if I left," Kei said, almost laughing, miserable at the way the words were pouring out of his mouth.
Kuroo turns away. "So. What would you say to him, if you wanted to leave?"
Looking at him was painful, but he has to be honest now, he's so tired, so Kei tells him, in hushed tones, "I'd tell him, I'm going, I'm sick of you. I'm sick of me. I'm sick of us."
Kuroo shakes his head. "That's pathetic. He'll tell you, that's no reason to leave. He'll tell you it's normal to feel frustrated when things have been difficult, you busy, him so far away ... he'll tell you that if that was meant to provoke him, you're gonna have to try harder. And - " worst of all, and Kuroo grits his teeth because he knows Bokuto so well: "- he'll tell you that he still likes you, and if you want to leave, you'll have to make it worth the anger and the pain."
Kei wanted to cry.
He sets his glasses aside and tilts his head backwards, thinking about what Kuroo had just said, and he chokes on his words, his voice wavering as he said, "that was ... a lot more painful than how I imagined it to be."
"How did you imagine it would go?"
"... I thought he would accuse me of cheating, first."
He smiles wanly at him. "No, that would be leveled to me, I think."
"And what would you say? If he asks?"
"I'll tell him I am. I'll tell him I didn't force you, and that this was a long time in coming. I'll tell him I'm not willing to lose. I'll tell him that I love you."
He buries his face in his hands.
Kuroo pushes his plate away from him, having lost his appetite, leaning his head against his hand as he props it against the table. He can't look at how Kei's shoulders seem to be shaking. He reaches for his hand with his other hand, slipping his fingers in between his own as he murmurs, "and then he'll laugh at me, and tell me that we wanted the same things after all."
He lets him cry on the table, great heaving sobs as he murmurs Bokuto's name, and Kuroo wondered how the hell did he even come to think that he was playing a game with someone who was so sure of his victory that the only thing he gets in return for a confession are his tears.
Kei dries his eyes later on with the back of his hand.
They eat together in silence. He compliments him on the food, and Kei does the same. They wash the dishes together. Kuroo dries his hands after and puts lotion on them, and then comments on Kei to make sure he eats more, to sleep better. Kei nods quietly. And then, because he wants to do nothing else and everything hurts so badly, he holds him in his arms and presses kisses over his neck where Bokuto had left his marks in the morning, repeating the gesture for him because nothing that he does will ever make a mark on him again the way Bokuto had done so early on in his younger years. It must be so amazing to be the kind of person that inspires someone to dedicate their lives to a thing that defined a hero for him in his childhood. It must be so amazing to be loved. It must be so amazing to be the kind of person whose name is the only one you'll murmur in your misery, and though Kuroo feels jealous - and his jealousy hasn't abated at all with Kei's tears - he feels a special kind of fondness and love for the people he's surrounded himself with, no matter how much it hurts in the end.
He tilts his chin up for a gentle kiss.
"He loves you a lot," Kuroo murmurs.
"Yes," Kei whispers as he kisses him again.
Take care of yourself too.
Humans in love are terrible, Kuroo thinks as he holds him in his hands. They come at each other like ravenous wolves. They see something growing in between the two of them with thorns and a delicate perfume that burns in the air with vetiver and something ozonic as it melds with the skin. It flares in their very eyes and bones until they were ground into dust, and the difference in between the two of them dictates where affection will fall.
He kisses him with a kind of desperation he hadn't learned to kiss with, until now, while Bokuto's kindness lingers in his mind, gently, seeping into the cracks of his rickety heart like honey, or tar; and the only thing he could do, in the face of such devotion, was to brush his affection onto Kei as gentle as a smudge on his cheek, and Kei trembles at his touch.
v.
On his way home, as he watches the scenery flit past the window of the train, Bokuto wonders, if sometimes, all the people who were waiting for someone else to call were secretly happy in their wait.
[end.]