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Kenma put their gameboy down with a click and looked up. Shoyou was always late, but he was late at a consistent time, so Kenma could get fifteen minutes of play in before Shoyou showed up and then they could put the game down and look attentive and listen for an hour or so. This was a good yakisoba place, quiet and never particularly busy or expensive. Shoyou could eat to the point where Kenma would start wondering if he was going to be sick but it wouldn’t put too large a dent in either of their food allowances.
Right on his slightly-behind schedule, there he was. He’d gotten a haircut. He hadn’t grown more than an inch since Kenma had last seen him. He was wearing his volleyball sweatshirt, of course. Kenma hadn’t worn theirs, but that’s because they’d left it back at college and hadn’t thought to bring it home for the weekend.
“Kenma!” Shoyou jogged over, weaving through patrons, then spun around and called back over his shoulder, “I’m starving, give me a sec!”
Kenma tucked their gameboy away and fiddled with the napkin for a moment, just to have something to do with their hands.
Shoyou flopped into the chair and grinned apologetically. “I ran here but I was still late!” he said with a hint of pride. He leaned forward conspiratorially and added, “I was practicing super late with Kageyama.”
Kenma nodded.
“I uh. Kinda wanted to talk about that a bit,” Shoyou said. Then he proceeded to get up and collect a bunch of spices and sauces, hashi and napkins, straws and sugar packets. He stared at the fat little lucky cat printed on the paper take-away boxes for a full minute. Kenma watched him. He was less excitable these days. He was standing still for longer. He didn’t look very good, though. He looked drained and nervous. His hands had a constant tremor. Kenma let their bangs fall in their face and looked at their lap until they heard Shoyou sit down again.
“Do you not want to talk about it?” Kenma asked.
“No, I do!” Shoyou said.
“You don’t have to,” Kenma said.
“What’s college like?” Shoyou asked.
Kenma thought for a moment. “In what way?”
“Uh, like friends. Like, you making new friends, still with your old ones, what?”
“I don’t make new friends easily,” Kenma said.
“You dating anyone?” Shoyou said.
Kenma met his eyes for a moment. Shoyou was leaning towards him across the table, his expression completely earnest but with an edge of desperation. Kenma remembered the first time they’d met, when Shoyou had been bouncing around like a bird, asking a multitude of questions and giving answers to questions Kenma hadn’t even thought to ask him.
“No,” Kenma said.
“You paused. Why’d you pause? Do you want to date someone?” Shoyou asked. His knuckles were white where he gripped the table. “How did you know you wanted to date them?”
“No,” Kenma said again. “I don’t really understand how dating is different from being friends, apart from a physical component, and I’m still not very good at making friends. It isn’t a big concern for me right now.”
Shoyou sat back and rubbed his hands over his face. “Kenmaaaaa,” he whined.
“Yes?”
“I think I want to date someone.”
Kenma peered from under their hair. “Oh?”
“But I’m not sure,” Shoyou said, finally dropping his hands into his lap. He looked defeated.
“Why do you think you want to date someone?”
“Not someone,” Shoyou clarified. “A particular someone.”
Kenma nodded. “I’m going to order,” they said, and stood to join the line.
When they looked over a few minutes later, Shoyou had his head on the table. He looked like he was trying to take a nap. Or smother himself.
Kenma sat back down across from Shoyou and watched him breathe for a while. Then they said, “Why do you think you want to date this person?”
Shoyou rolled his head so he could peer at Kenma without lifting up from the table. “I feel weird around him. Different weird from before.”
“So Tobio,” Kenma said.
Shoyou jerked up, horrified. “How did you know?” he yelped.
“He’s always made you feel strange,” Kenma said.
Shoyou put his head back down, this time angling it so Kenma couldn’t see his face. “Yeah, okay, it’s Kageyama.”
“What’s different?” Kenma said.
“I just feel weird around him. Like he’s volleyball.”
Kenma blinked very slowly, and then realized they were smiling. “You feel towards Tobio the way you feel about volleyball.”
Shoyou wrapped both his arms around his head and groaned.
“Your food is here,” Kenma said, poking the top of Shoyou’s head gently with two fingers. “Sit up and eat. You look terrible.”
“I know,” Shoyou said, breaking apart his hashi and swirling them through the noodles on his plate. “Thanks,” he added to the server, who was already too far away to hear.
“Why is this making you worry?” Kenma asked.
“You’ve met Kageyama,” Shoyou said. “He’s scary. He makes me nervous. But he’s also gotten… He’s a good person now?” Shoyou frowned at the air, still weaving his hashi through his food without actually picking anything up. “I don’t know how to put it, but his smiles aren’t so freaky anymore. They’re not common or anything, but when they show up I feel really weird, like it’s right before a match and I have to go puke and also take a—”
“Yes,” Kenma said quickly, spotting their own food coming over. “I remember how you feel before games, you don’t need to remind me. Eat.”
Shoyou crammed yakisoba into his mouth until his cheeks bulged, then swallowed it all immediately. It was a miraculous and also vile sight. Kenma kept their eyes down on their own plate.
When Shoyou’s mouth was clear again, he added, “He also got super hot all of a sudden.”
“No, he didn’t,” Kenma said.
“What? You don’t know! You haven’t seen him since—”
“I have Facebook,” Kenma said. “He did not get hot all of a sudden. He looks about the same, except his default expression in pictures is less grumpy and more resigned.”
“Kageyama doesn’t have Facebook,” Shoyou said suspiciously.
“You do, and he’s in a lot of your pictures,” Kenma said. “Hence the resigned expression, I guess.”
Shoyou turned bright red. “Oh my god, do you think he knows I want to date him because he’s in all my pictures?”
“He doesn’t have Facebook,” Kenma said. “He probably hasn’t seen your pictures.”
Shoyou turned even redder. “Can you forget I said that?”
Kenma shrugged and took a bite of their food. Shoyou shoveled down more yakisoba as well. They were quiet for a while. Shoyou was never usually this quiet. Kenma cleared their throat and asked, “So why don’t you date him?”
Shoyou looked up with dread written all over his face. “I don’t know how to date people,” he whispered. His eyes narrowed and he asked, “Do you have any ideas?”
Kenma avoided Shoyou’s gaze. “I’m not the most useful person to ask about this.”
“You’re my best friend,” Shoyou said. “Just… any advice?”
Kenma shrugged, tucking their chin closer to their chest. “What do you want to do with him that would be different from the way things are now? Like, kissing or cuddles or sex or what?”
“Uh.” Shoyou sounded as if he’d short-circuited, but then he said, “I guess whatever Kageyama wants.”
“But what do you want?” Kenma said, untucking slightly.
Shoyou was staring at his plate blankly. “I guess I just want to be around him. Or know he, like, cares about me. And stuff. That’d be great. That’s kind of as far as I’ve thought about it, really.”
“Really?” Kenma said, lifting their head completely.
Shoyou shifted uncomfortably. “Uh.”
Kenma smirked.
“The caring thing’s the most important, though,” Shoyou said quickly.
“How is that different from being friends?” Kenma said.
Shoyou stuffed his face with food and then gulped it down in less than two seconds. “I don’t know,” Shoyou said, “but I think I want more than friends. At least some kind of acknowledgement that we’re even better than best friends or something. Muscles better and nerves more.”
“What?”
Shoyou shook his head and ducked to hide a sudden blush. “Forget it.”
“…All right. If you want things to change, tell him,” Kenma said, and the two of them finished their noodles in silence. Shoyou didn’t order another plate: another sign that something wasn’t right. He was still worrying.
“Shoyou,” Kenma said. They put their hashi down with a click.
“Mm?”
“Let me know what it’s like, all right? When you tell him?”
Shoyou nodded, though he looked sick.
“Don’t worry,” Kenma added, because Shoyou genuinely looked like he could see Hell beckoning on the horizon. “If he doesn’t feel like dating, at least you can let him know how special he is to you.”
“But what if he thinks that I’m creepy for liking him and telling him about it and what if things get weird between us?”
Kenma ran a hand through their hair. “Shoyou. You’ve known each other for three years. If you want him to be in your life after high school, or if you just want to admit how you feel so that he knows someone cares about him this much, tell him. This is messing you up. You’re terrible at secrets. Put it out there. You’ll be fine.”
Shoyou smiled at him. It wasn’t big and bright, but it was determined. It was the face he wore before volleyball matches.
“Right!” he said. “Good plan. Thanks, Kenma, you’re a good friend for coming down from college for this. I’ll let you know how it goes!”
He waved a little, because he knew Kenma wasn’t big on hugs. Kenma watched him walk away, hand already sliding into their bag to get out their video game.
Kenma woke up at 3am because their phone was buzzing. It stopped almost immediately, so it was a text. Kenma checked it anyway because only one person would text them at three in the morning.
Shoyou had sent a text composed entirely of exclamation points interspersed with the sideways-carrot-and-three combination that meant hearts.
congratulations. why are you awake at 3am to tell me this, Kenma replied.
The text Shoyou sent back was obscene, ended with a winky emoji, and made Kenma snort hard enough to wake up their roommate.
yeah right, he sent back, then added, im happy for you. both of you.
“Whazzat?” Kenma’s roommate groaned.
“Nothing,” they said softly, watching as Shoyou texted back a smiley face and the phrase me 2!!!!!!!!! thx. “Just a friend telling me about his new boyfriend.”
“Mmm,” the roommate hummed, and then there was only snoring. Kenma put their phone away and settled down to sleep.
THE END