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kozume kenma isn’t sure when it really started or when it really happened; perhaps, it was when they first met & when shouyo had gotten lost while he was running, stumbling upon the nekoma setter. kenma remembers that moment way too well, thinks he won’t ever forget it even if he tried his best. he remembers how shouyo lit the smallest of sparks within his body just from how boisterous and energetic he was about volleyball. at the time, it was the start of an effect called “the shouyo effect” that would deeply change kenma for a long, long time.
they were in different places, that much is obvious, but it never really bothered the sluggish high schooler much until their time at the training camp was over; kenma hung out with shouyo constantly, trailed after him (was dragged to places several times too) & tossed the ball up for the bouncy blocker when asked to (until it got tiring, that’s when kenma would tell shouyo that he’s sleepy and take his speedy exit). when it came to an end, karasuno losing more than they won but definitely growing, kenma waved to shouyo, told him he would be looking forward to seeing them at nationals and saw him (and his team) off. the moment the bus had left, his shoulders slumped and kuroo took notice of it; to be fair, kuroo had been monitoring kenma the entire time throughout the week-long camp.
and he came after kenma for it.
walking home with kuroo after that was hell, in kenma’s high & mighty opinion; “you’ve got quite the interest in chibi-chan, huh?” he would muse, shit-eating grin on his feline-like features (kenma wanted to swipe that smile off his face). the boy would hide his face deeper in his red sports jacket, chin underneath it, tips of his ears burning red; the blond had his subtle ways of showing embarrassment, though not outright, and his fingers would move the slightest bit faster, ears hot with flushed embarrassment, and his body curling forward a bit more. despite not even looking at his childhood friend, kenma could tell that kuroo was grinning even moreso, caught onto the slight flustered movements. “it’s obvious,” he had added on, tone drifting as if he was talking to himself yet kenma knew better.
“no, it isn’t.” it wasn’t, he told himself. he wasn’t obvious. what was he even obvious about? his heart raced, thumping a little more when he saw orange behind his lids. no, it wasn’t. there’s nothing to be obvious about.
kuroo, being obnoxiously observant, straightened with an equally obnoxious “oya?”. kenma grunted, irritated at this point; it was easy to be annoyed with kuroo, let it slip easily when it was just the two of them because the raven-haired captain knew him better than anyone else did, even prided himself (he used the fact to brag about him to nekoma and other teams) about the fact. “i never specified what’s obvious, kenma,” voice slithered near his ear, laugh mocking (and … obnoxious), kenma swatted the taller male away with a noise of annoyance
… he had got him there. nothing goes unnoticed from kuroo. perhaps, that’s why he’s their captain besides the obvious.
the vita in his lithe fingers let out a depressing chime which only indicated that he lost in the game he was playing, kenma letting out a deep sigh as he looked up from the screen to glare at his friend with the ugliest face he could pull, wrinkles making their way and forming in between his brows and across the bridge of his nose. kuroo found amusement in that and threw himself to the side with laughter, a hand on his side with the other on his school bag. “... it’s not funny, kuroo,” the setter muttered with a hiss, annoyed beyond words. he hated how observant the taller is at times.
instead of responding, he laughed and laughed until he was out of gas, ribs aching and lungs threatening to burst if he didn’t take a deep wheezing inhale, leaning on kenma like a cane. the blond shoved him off, attempting to walk faster than usual, to get away from kuroo. “aw, kenma ,” kuroo lengthened the ‘ah’ at the end of his name, whine prominent in his deep voice. “come on, i was kidding! maybe.”
“you weren’t kidding. stop laughing at me or i’ll leave you alone.”
breathy laughter ebbed away into comfortable silence once more, kuroo taking kenma seriously, the thumping of his heart slowing into a gentle sway of the drums. it had kenma thinking, as he replayed the level he lost, steady and feline-like gaze glued onto the screen as his fingers worked deftly with the controls. was he obvious? the character on the screen didn’t look the character anymore, rather, it looked like someone with orange hair and a bounce in his steps. it looked like the character was wearing a black jersey, number ‘10’ embroidered on the front and back; kenma’s breath hitched audibly.
the depressing chime echoed in the back of his head, kuroo whistling lowly. “lost again? that’s unlike you, kenma.”
that much was true, kenma realizes when he thinks back on the memory with slight distaste towards the captain (he hates how observant kuroo is). it was unlike him.
x
after the camp, kenma doesn’t see shouyo for months but they’re constantly texting; it’s gotten troublesome for the team and their coach as well. nekoma would be practicing spikes or receiving and the moment his phone lets out a soft ‘ping’ from the sidelines, the setter finds himself drifting towards it to check for any new texts. he’s addicted, much like how he is with his video games; gaze settles on his phone screen, blond hair tickling his cheeks when the slightest of smiles appears unnaturally on his features at the text full of exclamation marks and emoticons. how … shouyo , he muses while texting back, short and straight to the point, fingers working quick, shoulders hunched to hide his phone from his peeping members.
hinata shouyo: kenma!!!! are you practicing right now?!?!?!?! i’m doing spikes and quicks with kageyama-kun and it’s hell (; ･`д･´) i swear he’s picking on me on purpose now!! i miss hitting your tosses ahhhhh kageyama drives me wild!!! ｡゜(｀Д´)゜｡
kozume kenma: yeah, we’re practicing to get into the nationals.
fingers linger over the keyboard on his phone & he finds himself wondering if he should add more to it or not, should leave it like that, or should he add an emoticon too? it’s much too late as he’s already sent it and a reply comes back to him in record time. interest swells inside of him, scanning the newest message from shouyo.
hinata shouyo: yeahhhh!!!! you better win the matches!!! i’m going to see you at nationals and beat you!!! (•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑
hinata shouyo: oh wait captain’s coming i gotta go bye!!!! i’ll text you later kenma!
“oh, cap’n, kenma’s smiling?” taketora’s voice snaps him out of his reverie and he shoves the phone back in his sports bag, face returning to its usual poker face, his teammates nearing him with increasing interest. kenma feels like he finally understands what it’s like to be on the other side of the net when nekoma’s playing against another team; pairs of aggressively curious feline gazes peer directly into his soul, the tips of his ears burning with heated embarrassment. kuroo peers at him from behind the net, a dark brow raising, the corners of his mouth raising in that damned smirk of his. they lock eyes for a moment and kenma breaks contact first, turning his head and slinking away from the others to get back onto the court, annoyance audible when he orders the first-years to receive and spike properly.
the heat never leaves his body or his ears, until the end of the practice, late when the sun begins to set and lev’s laughter rings throughout the spacious gym, yaku swinging a leg to kick him in the back and scolding him for not taking anything seriously. they’re back into the swing of things, the rare moment of kenma smiling slipping through their claws except for kuroo, who comes up from behind him and slings an arm around the shorter’s shoulders. “chibi-chan?” he asks, the word holding way much more weight than the captain’s body against his side does. it causes kenma’s heart to leap up into his throat and he swallows it down, forces it to silence itself.
“yeah,” he mutters reluctantly, quiet before adding on: “shouyo was texting me during karasuno’s practice.” there’s a smile that threatens to burst onto his passive features and kenma glances southward to keep it in check, to make sure kuroo doesn’t see it. he won’t admit it to anyone else but he had felt special -- everytime shouyo texts him, whenever it is, kenma feels his chest expand, a warm feeling spreading across his body. it’s something foreign to him and he doesn’t quite understand it but he doesn’t mind it, really. there’s a muffled ‘ping’ from his pocket and his fingers itch to check it right away but kuroo … kuroo’s hovering over his back like a damned cat, needy for attention. it makes kenma scoot away immediately, glaring at his childhood friend with a wrinkle of his nose. the captain raises his brows then lets out a snort when he sees the shorter of the two pull out his phone with smooth movements, though something in the way he pulls it out is slightly impatient.
‘ it’s obvious .’ those words ring within the confinements of his mind when his phone rests in the palm of his hand and kenma feels the heat rush from his ears to his cheeks. why is he -- what’s his face doing? quickly, his palms fly up to cover his cheeks, the coolness of his phone pressing against it. why does he feel like this? his heart yearns to burst out of his chest, free hand dropping from his cheek to his shirt, clutching it tightly.
the third-year watches him quietly, a knowing smile stretching across his sly features. he wraps an arm back around the second-year, holding kenma to his side without hearing a single complaint from the other boy. “you really --” he breaks off, guiding the boy to their houses, laughter ringing fondly within his tone. “ like him, don’t you, kenma?”
“... no, i don’t.”
“you do.”
“no … i don’t.”
“you hesitated!”
“no, i didn’t?"
“you did.”
“no, i didn’t, kuroo.”
x
tokyo nationals swing by faster than kenma can even beat legend of zelda or name all the characters of said game, his fists burrowing themselves in the pockets of his team jacket, cold, desperate for some sort of warmth. was he nervous? not at all. yet, even as he told himself that, he couldn’t help but feel some sort of rapidly rising anticipation bubble up to his throat. he’s to see shouyo here -- and until the very end. they’ll fight today.
the boy seats himself on one of the foldable chairs as he watches teams warm up, topaz gaze catching familiar, unruly clementine-colored hair, curls bouncing and a bright, relentless smile plastering itself on the owner’s features. kenma’s throat tightens, his heart seizing. shouyo . and as if his own body didn’t want to listen to his own brain, he gets up quietly, attracting the nekoma captain’s attention. “kenma, where are you going?”
blond hair swishes around slightly, the setter turning and tipping his head to the side with a flustered gaze that’s only visible to his friend. black hair covers his eye a bit more, kuroo smiling to himself when he nods, turning back to face yaku and kai. kenma doesn’t really need permission to go anywhere but when it comes to big competitions such as this, it’s important for their captain to know where he is. though , kenma thinks to himself, bitterly. it’s not like kuroo wouldn’t know where i am . strides continuously grow quicker as he makes his way to karasuno’s team, lingering in the halls, admiring tokyo’s nationals stage with a gleam in their eyes. the setter’s chest bursts with pride; yes, this is his home. this … is the stage they’ll shine on. together.
“shouyo,” he calls out, quietly at first and then again, loudly, hands stuffing themselves into his pockets to keep them hidden, trembling and red-tipped from being embarrassed. he’s afraid if the first-year gets too close, he’ll be able to hear the thunderous beating of his heart over the chants from other schools. a part of him wishes shouyo doesn’t hear him at all but the boy is quick, picks up on things in an instant, and he’s bounding over to kenma with the biggest smile he’s ever seen. pale skin instantly heats, blond locks of hair falling forward to hide his face a bit. it isn’t unnatural, kenma would like to think; he always hides his face, anyway.
“kenma! you’re here!” a smile slips onto his own features; shouyo’s silly , he muses. it’s cute. orange hair bounces atop shouyo’s head, grin blinding and warm and excited, standing close to the setter with no knowledge of what personal space really means (not like kenma minds … okay, maybe a bit?). he tips his head and then spins on his heel, pointing to the stands and then the gleaming courts, excitedly chattering away about how they’ve made it at last. the blond setter barely has a moment to say a full sentence but it’s fine; shouyo can talk all he wants, kenma will always be there to listen. yet, the thought of “always being there” shakes him up a bit, ears growing hot despite the warmth inside the stadium swirling around them. he glances at the talkative middle blocker, hooded topaz eyes memorizing the view before he turns away again. if he can’t have him at all, at least he has this moment.
he’s blinked out of his reverie when shouyo taps his shoulder and shoots him a smile that feels private (softer than the other kind of smiles he’s always had on his face), eyes gleaming when he stands up straight and as tall as he can. “kenma,” his name is soft on shouyo’s tongue, rolls around nicely and gently. he decides he likes it, and it makes his heart leap, soar even. “let’s see each other on the court today.”
something about the shorter boy before him lifts his motivation, turns a boring sport into something he wants to work harder and harder for, and he grins crookedly a little, the corners of his lips lifting just the slightest. kenma takes note of shouyo’s slightly flustered face (mentally taking note to remember it always when they’re separated again) from his genuine smile, and nods. “yeah. i’m looking forward to it, shouyo.”
they share similar smiles, hearts and hands trembling from anticipation and excitement; kenma thinks to himself how shouyo’s constantly surprising him, whether it be in volleyball or just as himself too. the two turn away from one another and return to their respective teams. the battle at the garbage dump had to happen — for his sake and shouyo’s too.
x
again, kenma’s not sure when it really started to happen: the flush that taints his nose and his ears, the trembling of his hands, the unfocused behavior when it comes to his games, the abnormal increase in his heart rate. however, he knows the very cause of these symptoms … and it’s due to the boy standing in front of him: hinata shouyo.
“is there any way to get rid of this disease, kuroo?”
“what disease do you have? our precious setter’s sick?! we need to take you to the hosp--”
“what? no. i mean,” an irritated sigh. he wants him to say it. “you know what it is.”
“oh, i really don’t think i do, kenma-san ~.”
kenma had grown silent, leaning against the balcony rails, irritation rolling off him in waves when he spots orange hair bouncing around the bushes; what’s he doing? practicing? the setter squints and then promptly turns on his heel to head down to the front of the hotel, ignoring kuroo’s invading questions. it’s only when he’s at the entrance of the hotel, fingers trembling as they open the door, that he hesitates, his heart quivering in his chest, threatening to explode right then and there. shouyo finds him first, brows leaping up from his eyes as a smile forms on his round features.
“kenma!” there it is, the setter muses, flush reaching his ears. the blond setter finds that he very much likes it when the middle blocker says his name like that — like it isn’t something gross but something that should be handled with care. he says it with such excitement, eyes gleaming with glee; kenma wants to keep that expression all for himself, he realizes.
he’s being selfish and ugly.
“shouyo— what are you doing here?” he inquiries instead, swallowing down his heart crawling io his throat. his hands are shoved neatly in the pockets of his jacket, hood thrown over his messy hair. the younger of the two stops bouncing and stands restlessly against the benches, smile persistent and bright even in tokyo’s night sky.
it takes a while for shouyo to reply to him, out of breath from jumping and running in place, but when he does, he says: “i couldn’t sleep! so i came out here to play but then i realized i don’t have a volleyball so now i’m just doing drills, hah .” a laugh escapes his mouth breathily, cold mist coming out in puffs. kenma gazes at the other boy with awe; it's amazing how hard shouyo works for volleyball. he wants to be like the same.
“that’s amazing, shouyo … how long have you been doing this? you’re still not tired ...” he knows he is, after playing an amazing game against karasuno — all kenma wants to do is lay down in his bed and sleep forever, rest his limbs until he’s fully rejuvenated. the setter leans against the benches too, sitting down finally as he stares intently at his … friend? his rival? he isn’t sure but he’s sure that neither of those terms fit well with the thumping of his heart, the flush that coats his cheeks (he brushes it off as the heat emanating from his jacket). breath catches in his throat when the shorter of the two sits beside him, knuckles brushing and shoulders bumping. he listens as the first-years rambles on and on about being energized after their match and seeing bokuto’s match too. a smile slips onto kenma’s feline-like features.
their moment’s promptly interrupted by the harsh voice of karasuno’s captain, effectively getting shouyo’s attention (and also kenma’s). “hinata!” he roars, sounding slightly angry and annoyed, yet not at all surprised. kenma peeks around the other’s shoulder and raises his brows at the sight of the angry captain, a fist raised. “why aren’t you inside?!”
“oh, uh, um, i—” kenma’s topaz gaze flits up to the curls on his friend’s head, traces them quietly and then down to the nape of his neck, exposed and flushed with red-hot embarrassment. his gaze falls down to his lap, fingers twined across his lap; he briefly thinks about pressing his lips to shouyo’s hair and his neck, wonders if he would like it. his heart jumps in his chest and it surprises him enough to cause his face to turn all shades of red.
‘ you really like him, don’t you? ’
the setter bites at his lip, karasuno’s captain and blocker argument beginning to drift and fade into white noise, nose and fingers tingling. he itches to hold shouyo’s hand, cup the boy’s rounder features in his palms, and to hug him close for warmth when needed. these are things kenma’s never had a need or a want for before but shouyo really pulls more than needed out of him.
shouyo’s always doing new things .
“ahhh, kenma, i’ve gotta go — captain hates it when i don’t sleep with the others because then i get kind of hard to deal with in the morning, you know?” shouyo’s deflated tone catches his attention and kenma stands now, looking down at his friend, eyes drifting over the slope of the boy’s nose, the furrow of his brows, the line of his mouth. his heart aches and yearns, he stretches out his hand and then immediately pulls it back. don’t be gross, kenma . he’s not sure when’s the next time he’ll see karasuno’s blocker and the thought of that uncertainty leaves a gaping hole in his chest.
“oh— okay, shouyo.” it’s forced out of his mouth, the two of them staring at each other in suffocating silence. the other boy looks slightly disappointed, a look he’s never seen on his face before, the crease in his brows just a bit more prominent than before; it makes kenma lean forward to grab ahold of the boy’s hands without a single thought. shouyo seems to be taken aback but he doesn’t pull back, kenma’s mind racing a mile per second, his heart beating faster than that. he’s not sure what’s going on with him but he squeezes the boy’s hands a bit more. “sorry, i— we’ll see each other again. you should sleep and rest, shouyo.”
for once, he feels like the senpai between the two of them, a feeling of greedy satisfaction coursing throughout his veins when he takes note of the flush that spreads across the younger’s face. the orange-haired boy turns his head and nods, albeit shyly, hands slipping and fingers touching before he grins suddenly, waves and runs back to the inn karasuno’s residing in.
the moment he’s gone, back disappearing behind the doors and the two karasuno third-years have slipped inside of the rooms as well, kenma feels his knees give out, heated face stuffed neatly against his equally hot palms. the setter finds himself sitting on the bench, the tokyo breeze swirling around his unusually hot being, embarrassment and fluster swelling up inside of his body.
he … really does like shouyo.
x
months pass after the nationals and with the time that skips, the texting has increased along with the phone calls and the giggles they share in the dead of the night, static almost echoing and ringing in their ears. from tokyo to miyagi, kenma doesn’t mind the distance, or rather, never really did until shouyo became a much more pronounced presence in his life. the setter turns on his bed, curling up so that his knees rest gingerly against his chest, his phone laying flat on the palm of his roughened hand. topaz-golden orbs stare at the device with a hint of longing; he’s unsure when the next time he’ll see shouyo will be and that thought alone brings along a feeling of pain.
wrinkles form on his normally passive face as he scrunches his nose with a sigh. kenma isn’t ever one to be impulsive unlike the boy he fancies but in this moment, as he lays on his bed after a cancelled practice, he realizes how impulsive his thoughts can be and how fast they run. he could take this bus to get to that bus and then take another one to reach miyagi or maybe he can ask kuroo to finally get his driver’s license and then have him drive them to miyagi? kenma twists his body so that he’s laying on his back, phone now resting on his stomach. at this point, he’d really give anything to calm his heart and the butterflies that arise within his stomach.
ah … i wonder if shouyo’s doing okay — does karasuno have practice today? they probably do. would i be bothering him if i messaged him? though, i don’t message first normally … he wouldn’t mind, right?
would it be too obvious?
swallows thickly at the thought, lingering and echoing loudly in the back of his head, before he takes his phone and gazes at it, opening the message app to scroll through the messages between him and shouyo. it’s hard to resist the smile that squirms onto his features, pink dusting across the bridge of his nose and his cheeks, the tips of his ears heating up incredibly so.
his phone begins to ring loudly, the tone he had set for kuroo drifting to his ears and he gives it two rings before he picks it up, presses the mobile to his ear with an uninterested “hn?”, kuroo’s raspy voice causing him to sit up and make his normally hooded eyes grow wide. “what? but coach said there’s no practice t—”
“he made a last minute arrangement with karasuno a few days ago and now they’re here. said it was a surprise match to see how we both improved ever since the nationals.” kuroo laughs, static coating his tone, and kenma can only imagine the eyeroll he gives. “coach is really up our ass about this, huh? can’t say that i’m complaining though. i definitely want to see tsukki and that freak duo in action ever since the nationals too.”
the freak duo — shouyo. shouyo . kenma falls silent for a few beats before getting up and tugging on his sports shirt, his white hoodie, and then the nekoma jacket, phone tucking itself against his ear and shoulder. it’s almost as if kuroo and coach nekomata read his very mind, read into his heart; kenma lets out an exhale, mutters a soft “i’m coming” and hangs up. judging from the background noises coming from kuroo’s side of the call, the taller male was already at the gym ( curse, kuroo — leaving me behind ), and the nekoma setter lets his mother know that he’s back to school, not giving her any time to ask any questions.
kenma thinks that this might be the first time in all his life that he’s moved so fast to get to one place, out of the excitement and anticipation that roars within his heart.
x
the moment he gets there, nekoma’s captain is already outside of the gym, a dark blue jersey in one hand and that damned smirk on his face, visible eye flitting to the inside of the gym where nekoma had already started playing karasuno. kenma holds his breath when he spots a flash of orange, darting on the court to slam down a perfectly tossed ball down in between lev and inouka, yaku missing it by an inch. “ah, missed him and his freak quick,” kuroo muses, which causes kenma to give him A Look, eyes narrowing and mouth pulling downwards in a frown. “ what ? did i say something wrong?” and at this point, he’s really messing with the setter. the second-year takes the jersey and enters the gym with a bow to the coaches that stand by the side, wiping the sweat off his forehead from running to the school gym and placing his gym bag down once he reaches the locker room.
the door swings shut behind him, leaving him alone with his heightened thoughts, loud and clear along with the loud beat of his heart. kenma rests his forehead against the coolness of the locker, his hoodie and jacket hanging loosely on the locker door, number five jersey half on his body, only one arm through the hole. shouyo’s here. relax, kenma . so, he does and he clears his mind after a beat too long, closing the locker with a swipe of water from his bottle. he’s fine, he’ll be fine.
that’s what he thinks until he steps back out onto the court and shouyo brightens even moreso, “kenma!” ringing and echoing throughout the gym with a sense of affection that kenma never really noticed until now
he’s not fine. he really isn’t.
after months of not seeing the middle blocker, kenma thinks that seeing him now only makes the pining worse, makes the ache and tug in his heart and chest thin, makes the blushing and the fidgeting a little more obvious. he feels like a middle schooler confessing to the love of his life except he’s not doing that; he’s just silently crushing on shouyo from afar. “kenma!” the boy tries again, slipping from under the net and skidding to him — and without a sense of personal space, he hugs him, arms winding tight around the setter’s form.
that’s enough to set him completely off, his entire body going red from head to toe (in the distance, he thinks he can hear kuroo going “oh, boy” with a muffled laugh); kenma stumbles back from the hug, topaz-golden eyes searching shouyo’s surprised expression until it settles and his face is just as rouge as his own. “oh, um — i’m sorry, i thought —” the setter doesn’t know why the first-year’s apologizing, doesn’t really want him to, because he didn’t mind in the least. the warmth still tingles his arms, down to his fingertips, and kenma refrains from hugging shouyo again, from running his fingers through the other’s hair. “agh, sorry, haha. it just — it’s been a while! you know?!"
he’s embarrassed .
a smile forms on kenma’s features, just as flustered, when he tips his head at shouyo, eyes knowing and searching which silences the normally talkative boy, fingers trembling as his mind spins, feeling light-headed. “it’s okay, shou,” he pauses, adding the rest of the boy’s name as an afterthought: “... yo”. now, he feels his face burn with immense embarrassment; great, he probably thinks you’re even weirder . it’s been a while since they met and this is how it plays out — not exactly how kenma really had hoped for it to happen. but shouyo presses closer into his personal space, threatening to pop the bubble he had formed over the years, eyes shining with something kenma can’t put a finger on.
“call me shou, kenma,” he sounds extremely serious, voice a little lower than usual, and it catches the setter off-guard, the noises around them drowning out until there’s complete silence. his heartbeat quickens and gets louder with each inhale, exhale he takes, palms clammy and gross with how close the shorter is. “i - i mean, if you want, heh. i like it when you say ‘shou’.”
he … what? kenma’s mind decides to short-circuit right then and there; hinata shouyo is definitely a force to be reckoned with. “o … okay.” get ahold of yourself, kenma, he pushes his thoughts through his hazy mind, blinking slowly at the blocker before him, the beam almost blinding him. he musters a shy smile himself, nodding, and when shouyo begins to turn to walk away, kenma grabs ahold of the boy’s sleeve with a soft “ah”.
the sounds around them come back to his ears in waves, the chattering of the captains and yaku scolding lev while sugawara and nishinoya laugh in the background; the coaches converse between one another and behind shouyo’s shoulder, kenma spots kageyama staring at him from the other side of the court. they’re not alone and it hits kenma all at once, so he lets go of the other’s sleeve with a flustered noise, turning his head immediately with a soft “sorry”. he can feel shouyo staring at him with a curious gaze, stepping close to him, and he’s all too hyper aware of every little thing the boy does, hates that it does things to his heart.
“wait, kenma, did you need something?”
he wonders if it’s okay for him to be selfish just this once; the setter glances back at shouyo with a surprisingly pink face, catches kuroo’s eye and sees him smile encouragingly. the second-year decides that just for once, he thinks he deserves this much at least. when’s the next time you’ll see chibi-chan anyway? is the voice (that sounds much too like kuroo) questions inside of his head & kenma swallows, nods. “yeah. we should talk outside after this practice match.”
x
to say the least, nekoma didn’t do so well in the second set after kenma had talked to shouyo, his mind severely focused on what he’d say outside to him, what he’d do, or what shouyo’s reactions would be to his words; all that talk about keeping the brain functioning properly … once karasuno took the second set, kuroo shook some sense into him for the third set, had him focus on the match rather than shouyo (which earned him some interested stares from his teammates).
in the end, nekoma won against karasuno using their new skill sets and the two teams had mingled until the sun had set. before the opposing team took their leave, kenma and shouyo locked eyes, his heart thumping wildly in the confinements of his ribs when he shuffles outside, leaning against the walls of the gym, the squeaking of shoes against the gym floor keeping him slightly more sane.
“so, what did’ya wanna talk about, kenma?” the setter envies how at ease shouyo sounds to him, how natural he seems besides him as if he’s the only one suffering with the disease that he carries (“you like him, kenma, that’s not a disease, y’know? it’s totally natural to crush on someone like this. and it’s kinda cute that you like chibi-chan.”). kenma swallows his nerves and stands a bit, facing his friend with a steady gaze until it wavers and then he looks southward.
he figures he can be out with it like this. it’s only shouyo, after all.
“i like you.” a pause and he’s back to fidgeting a bit, hunching a little in his nekoma jacket. “i think.”
he can’t bring himself to look at his friend’s expression, for out of fear that he might’ve shattered everything they built up over the year and maybe it’s dumb but kenma feels like his heart is ready to burst forth with how much he’s been repressing it. when he doesn’t hear anything from the first-year, kenma gathers all his pride and courage and ducks his head, a wavering “sorry” on his lips, getting ready to hide in the locker room until he’s ready to go home and game the nights away.
but he’s stopped by a tiny voice, so unlike the normally loud and bouncy middle blocker; “you like me, kenma?” he sounds unsure, not grossed out or confused or anything negative that kenma had been worried about. the setter takes a risk, tosses the dice, and looks up, topaz hues clashing with clementine-colored ones, searching for any emotion that would give him answers. shouyo looks at kenma with gleaming eyes, heavy flush painting itself across his round features. “do you really?”
it’s as if the younger of the two is trying to get him to reaffirm his statement, to try and hear it once more before he’s back to his hometown and the thought sinks his heart but kenma stares at shouyo for a moment too long — & he realizes that shouyo wants reassurance that it’s true and not something kenma’s saying right off the bat. the setter feels his fingertips and the tips of his ears grow red-hot as he nods, “i do.”
what he doesn’t expect is for the other student to fling himself at his face and for arms to cling tightly around his neck, legs loose around his waist; kenma’s hands flail a bit before resting on shouyo’s lower back, brows furrowing and a flustered frown forming onto his pale features. “i— shouyo?” the boy mutters something against his jacket but it’s muffled so when kenma pulls him away slowly and stares at him with a soft, genuine gaze, shouyo grows beet-red and kicks at the ground, their hearts beginning to beat in tandem, pinkies interlocking.
“i like you too — i - i have for a while, i just didn’t know if you did too. i mean, i could never tell and you live so far away so i missed you a lot but — i,” he pauses to take a breather, staring at kenma’s pink-tinted face with a wavering smile. “i like you a lot, kenma. whenever i see you, my heart goes whoosh! a lot. it - it’s kind of embarrassing, i know but —”
and perhaps, hanging out with kuroo has been a bit of an influence on kenma but for this particular situation, he won’t blame him for it; the setter cups shouyo’s heated cheeks and swoops in for a gentle press of the lips, brushing over them with a muted laugh at the ramblings. his heart still beats loud and erratically but he feels much more at ease knowing he’s not alone with these feelings. “it’s not embarrassing, shou,” and now, he feels his own face heat a little, eyes downcast when he pulls away from the kiss, foreheads touching and orange locks tickling his cheeks. “i’m — glad. really glad.”
they share another kiss and a little bit of soft laughter, hands interlocked all the way until the end, until he’s forced to let go and wave goodbye to karasuno (but in particular, to shouyo).
x
extra.
hinata shouyo: sooooo, i have the week off for break and im thinking
kozume kenma: do you want to come over, shou?
hinata shouyo: ahh!! kenma read my mind, heeeee ~ we’re totally soulmates, arent we? but yeah i wanna come over!! can i stay for a few nights? i wont be a bother i promise
kozume kenma: you’re never a bother, shou
kozume kenma: but yeah, i’ll get out the futon for you
as he shifts from his bed, he smiles, pocketing the phone and keeping it close to him, fingertips brushing over the baby crow charm hanging from the corner of his device. despite the distance that’s put in between them, he thinks that he’ll never get tired of hinata shouyo; the constant excitement and absolute adoration the first-year brings with him will always be refreshing and exhilirating and kenma knows that whenever he sees him, his affection for the middle blocker will always double and increase in size.
the setter’s cheeks heat a little, playing with the charm absentmindedly. quietly, he begins to unfold the futon and roll it beside his bed, playing around with the stray volleyball beside his bed.
kozume kenma: it’s all set, you can come whenever you want, shou
hinata shouyo: im on my waaayyyyy!!! (｡´ ‿｀♡)