Chapter Text
"A detailed analysis... common themes..." Ryouta's brows dipped down. "Half of your final--half of my final grade?!"
The professor looked unimpressed. "This assignment has been on the syllabus since day one," she said. Her eyes narrowed, daring him to argue or interrupt. "The date partners were to be assigned was likewise. You can hardly expect me to excuse you from it because you decided your modeling career," Ryouta doubted she could have sounded more condescending if she tried, "was more important than your academics."
"But, ma'am," Ryouta smiled, oozing charm. "I did send you an email--"
The professor remained unmoved. "You sent a single email for a slew of absences. That is absolutely inexcusable. However," she held up a hand, cutting off whatever defense Ryouta managed to come up with, "because this assignment is such a large portion of your grade, I'll allow you to do it. This is your last chance to pass my class. Don't mess it up." She sat back, grabbing a paper off one of the many piles spread across her desk. "Let's see, your partner..."
Ryouta sat on the edge of his seat, shooting glances at the clock over the door. He really needed to get going. He had a shoot at seven, and if he didn't leave now...
"Am I wasting your time, Kise-san?
"Not at all, Masako-sensei," Ryouta demured. "Who will my partner be?"
She frowned down at the paper. "Kuroko Tetsuya is the only unpaired student."
"Oh, all right." Ryouta tried to picture the students in his literature course, but he couldn't for the life of him remember a Kuroko. "Ah, what does he look like?"
Masako-sense put the list down, her frown deepening. "You know," she said, "I can't seem to recall his face. How odd." She jotted down something on a sticky note and passed it to him across her desk. "That's his email. I'd suggest meeting with him as soon as possible. If I get a single complaint..." She trailed off.
Ryouta cringed, laughing nervously. "I'll get right to it," he promised. He couldn't get out of the office fast enough.
Masako-sensei was terrifying, and speaking to her one on one was like a living nightmare.
Rushing to the station, Ryouta just managed to board his train. He huddled against a window and sent a brief message to his partner.
kuroko-kun, this is kise ryouta! weve been assigned partners so when can we meet? please take care of me!! (*≧▽≦)
"...another body. Can you believe it?"
Ryouta slid his phone back into the wide pocket of his blazer and let his attention wander to the girls just behind him. He could barely make out their faces in the window reflection, but he could tell from their uniforms they were high school girls.
"No way! What are they saying this time?"
"My dad's an officer, and he said the rumor is that it's a serial killer..."
Ryouta shifted, discomforted. The attacks were the biggest news in Tokyo. His manager forbid him from walking around outside at night, as though he had some kind of target on his head. Serial killers were such a movie type thing, though. The idea of one so close to home? Ryouta just couldn't find it in himself to believe it.
The automated voice spoke through the haze of conversations and noise, announcing the next stop. Ryouta's stop, thankfully, because he had another ten minutes to make it to the studio or there would be Hell to pay. He sprinted the rest of the way, and just managed to slide in under the radar a minute or so before go time. The makeup director shuffled him off, but not before he could see the ire written plainly on his manager's face.
"You do like to live dangerously, don't you?" his makeup director said. She tutted, poking at the ends of his bangs with her comb. "And you haven't been conditioning again, I see!"
Ryouta sank into the chair, swallowing down a sudden swelling of frustration. Between full time school and nearly full time modeling, he felt so burnt out. Another few hours, though, and he could sleep. That reminder alone was enough to keep him going.
The shoot wound up running over. It was nearly ten at night by the time Kise caught a taxi at his manager's insistence and had a spare second to check his phone. Kuroko, his mysterious partner, had gotten back to him while he was working.
Kise-kun, I have a very full schedule. I can meet on Tuesday nights. If that doesn't work for you, please give me your availability, and I will do the best that I can. Kuroko T.
"That's it?" Ryouta sighed. He slumped in the backseat of the taxi, feeling oddly let down by the impersonal message. He didn't know what he'd expected. Did his name really not stand out. Ah, but Kuroko was a guy, so what would he care about a male model?
He typed up a quick response stating that Tuesday was fine, and could they meet at a diner? Ryouta couldn't study without good food, and he couldn't bring himself to invite a complete stranger to his home. What if Kuroko was secretly a stalker? Or if he was the type to go through a person's things? Ryouta had enough trouble with that in high school, back when his popularity really started rocketing. Once bitten, twice shy, after all.
~
Ryouta sprinted down the sidewalk, his bag over his head. The rain picked up so suddenly, and Ryouta couldn't help but bitterly think that even the weather was against him. Why else would he have to suffer a downpour like this in the winter of all seasons?
He burst into the diner, startling the girls crowded into the booth nearest the door. As he shook the rain water from his hair, he shot them a grin and a wink, warming a bit when they tittered behind their hands, cheeks pinking.
"Let's see..." Ryouta looked around the diner. Only a few tables were occupied, mostly with students from the university, but no one matching the description Kuroko provided. "Blue, blue, blue," Ryouta murmured. No blue sweatshirts, no blue hair, no blue anything. He was about to pull out his phone and send Kuroko a mail when a voice to his right startled him.
"Kise-kun, you're late."
Ryouta jumped, letting out a shriek like he hadn't heard since his middle school days. "Kuroko?" he stammered. "When did you--"
"I've been here at least half an hour," Kuroko said, frowning at the lack of honorific. Apparently, he was the formal type. "You should have alerted me that you were going to be late."
Laughing, Ryouta bowed his head and clasped his hands in front of his face. "Sorry, sorry! I got caught up with a phone call with my manager, and then it started to rain and I realized I didn't have my umbrella! So I had to go find something that could sort of be an umbrella, you know? My hairdresser told me--"
Kuroko cleared his throat pointedly. "I've been sitting over there," he said, gesturing to a booth in the far right corner of the diner. "Please join me when you've gotten your food." Then he turned around and returned to the booth. Just like that.
Ryouta felt off-kilter. Sure, he wasn't exactly expecting Kuroko to roll out the red carpet for him, but he did he have to be so frigid? It wasn't like he meant to be late or miss so many classes! The look on Kuroko's face, that blank slate, spoke of pure disinterest. It was exactly the sort of thing Ryouta couldn't stand, that instant dismissal. His skin prickled with heat, and he forced himself to take a few deep breaths. Just calm down, he advised himself. It's just a school project! One that was worth half his entire grade.
Suddenly Ryouta wasn't so hungry anymore.
But as the diner had been his idea, Ryouta forced himself to order something small before joining Kuroko. "So," he said, looking at the notes spread out across the table top. He tried to keep his meal organized into as small a space as possible so he didn't offend Kuroko even more, but the look on Kuroko's face didn't change. The effort went unappreciated. "What are we doing?"
"The professor gave us sample readings within the postmodernist school of thought, and we're doing an overview of common themes and a time line of events that affect the narrative."
Ugh. "That sounds so boring," Ryouta groaned. He munched on a fry, not bothering to hide his pout.
Kuroko didn't agree. "I'm in the literature department," he said mildly. Ryouta wanted to slap himself. So much for bonding over a mutual dislike of their class.
"Is that so?" He tried to laugh, to look enthusiastic. "You must be so smart! I couldn't take three years of literature."
"What department are you in, Kise-kun?" Kuroko didn't sound interested, but surely asking was a good sign!
"I'm in communications," he said. He didn't really care for it. His manager picked the major, told him what would look the best. It was all about image, he'd told Ryouta. "But I'm really glad you're my partner," he continued when Kuroko didn't look like he had any valuable input. "Since you're in the literature department, I feel like my grade is in good hands! I'll leave it to you." Ryouta really did mean it as a joke, but if he'd thought Kuroko was being frigid to him before, Kuroko's eyes were positively arctic now.
"I apologize, Kise-kun, but if you intend to leave this project to me, I assure you that won't be a possibility. I have no issue with working alone. Perhaps you ought to consider doing the same." Kuroko began gathering his things.
Ryouta panicked. "No! Wait!" Masako-sensei's threat echoed in his mind. He could feel his grade circling the drain. "It was a joke! A joke! Honestly, I wouldn't make someone else do my work! Please don't go!" He grabbed Kuroko's hand.
Kuroko stared down at their connection before gently prying Ryouta's hand off of his own. "Think about it," he urged. He tucked his books under one arm and stooped down to grab the umbrella he'd stowed away under the table. "If you can't take this seriously, I won't work with you. Let me know your decision by tonight."
"Shit." Ryouta dropped his face into his hands. He'd known Kuroko all of five minutes, and he'd already screwed it up. So much for his lauded charm... Ryouta glanced out the window, catching sight of Kuroko disappearing into the rain, safely ensconced under a small black umbrella. For such a small guy, and one with no real presence to speak of, he sure left a lasting impression.
It didn't take any time at all to make a decision. Then again, decision wasn't the right word for it. Ryouta had no real say in the matter of his and Kuroko's partnership if he wanted to pass the class, but sending Kuroko a message felt sort of scary now. He'd already pissed Kuroko off once. Making it worse - could it really get any worse? He supposed rock bottom would be Kuroko refusing to work with him and reporting him to Masako-sensei. The thought only sent a chill down his spine. He gathered his courage and sent Kuroko a message much later, the hours already bleeding into the early morning.
kuroko-kun, sorry about giving you such a bad impression! i promise to work hard. lets start over?
~
"Is...is this the right address?" Ryouta stared up at the apartment complex. It was one of those luxury ones, the type his agency arranged for the senior models, the really successful ones. Ryouta had his eye on one of them, though he didn't kid himself into thinking it would happen any time soon. To think that Kuroko lived in one of them! "Unexpected," he muttered to himself before pressing the buzzer.
The intercom crackled to life. "Name?" a bored voice spoke from the other end.
"Kise Ryouta," he introduced himself, "here to see Kuroko Tetsuya!"
Silence. Ryouta stood there feeling foolish for a good three minutes before the intercom crackled again. "The gate will open after the beep," was all the voice had to offer, but he didn't need to explain because the beep the sounded from atop the wide black gate was deafening. Ryouta cringed, his hands flying up to cover his ears. The gate opened automatically, parting in the center to reveal a wide driveway that could easily accommodate four cars at once, leading to a four level parking garage. Ryouta stared at it for a few beats before taking the walkway off to the left leading toward the actual residences.
Kuroko really lived there? A college student really had such a home? Ryouta could only imagine Kuroko came from money. Maybe his frigidness was some sort of by product of his upbringing, like the attitude of a young master type?
He took the elevator to the third floor and counted the doors down until 3-14. He raised his hand to knock, but before his hand could connect, Kuroko opened the door. Ryouta's heart jumped into his throat at the sudden appearance. The gate operator must have alerted him, though the idea of Kuroko just standing behind the door waiting for him was pretty creepy.
"Good evening, Kise-kun. Come in, please." Kuroko stepped aside, gesturing for Ryouta to step inside.
"Kuroko-kun, I can't believe you have such an amazing apartment!" Ryouta gushed. He practically tripped in his haste to toe off his shoes and get a good look at the inside. The apartment was sparsely furnished, a real minimalist look about it. As stiff and formal as Kuroko seemed to be, he'd been expecting something more traditional.
"It's not mine," Kuroko was quick to say, closing the door behind them. He locked it and then gestured for Ryouta to follow him into the kitchen. "It's a family property. I'm just staying here while I'm in school."
"I'm so jealous," Ryouta sighed. "I've just got a tiny studio near the station."
"That's surprising," Kuroko said, though nothing showed through on his face. "I would think with your career, you'd be in a similar place."
Ryouta did laugh at that. "No way! I'm still small time, you know? Ah, but I'm happy to know even you recognized me, Kuroko-kun!"
Kuroko actually raised a brow at that, something Ryouta decided to call a success. "Your picture is everywhere. I knew who you were as soon as I saw your name."
"I couldn't place you at all," Ryouta admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "Not even Masako-sensei could."
"That's normal," Kuroko assured him. "Please, have a seat. I'll make some tea."
Ryouta watched Kuroko move around the kitchen, looking much more at ease than he had in the cafe. All the tension from their first meeting was gone, replaced by an atmosphere Ryouta didn't understand but could only think of as 'blank'. He couldn't get a sense of anything Kuroko was thinking, whether he was glad Ryouta showed up or even annoyed. He was a complete blank slate.
"Sorry," he said. The word fell out of his mouth before he could really think about it. Kuroko stopped what he was doing and turned around. "I really didn't mean to cause all that trouble the day before. I promise I usually don't put my foot in my mouth like that!"
Kuroko's lips quirked up on one side into a handsome, if understated, crooked smile. "I find that rather difficult to believe, Kise-kun."
"Hey! I'm not that bad, Kurokocchi!" The nickname just... slipped out. Kuroko rolled with it, apparently unbothered.
"As long as you know your place," Kuroko said. But from the way he was still almost smiling, Ryouta knew it was a joke.
"I won't forget this time," Ryouta said, offering him a thumbs up.
They worked well together. Ryouta tried to mind Kuroko's boundaries, something he found surprisingly difficult. There was something about Kuroko, something that made Ryouta want to push rather than to charm him. They sat close together at the small table in the kitchen, poring over Kuroko's notes. Ryouta found it difficult to focus on literature, his eyes drawn to the wiry musculature of Kuroko's arms, the way his forearms flexed when he turned a page or jotted down an idea. He was just so strange. And perhaps that's all it was, a momentary attraction from someone who was so different from what Ryouta was used to. And if nothing else, Kuroko was certainly unique. His barely there presence, his offbeat appearance, the fine cut of his jaw sloping into a deceptively delicate neck. Despite his size, Ryouta could think of Kuroko as nothing other than masculine. He wouldn't have minded seeing him in a much more intimate setting either, but he put that thought out of his head as quickly as it had appeared. Entertaining sexual thoughts about another man was one thing, but Kuroko was only just tolerating him.
"Well, we got a lot done," Ryouta said, leaning back in his seat. He reached his arms over his head, stretching out the tension in his shoulders. "Thanks for having me over, Kurokocchi!"
Kuroko looked over at the digital clock on the oven, and Ryouta's gaze followed. Eleven? Had he really been there for six hours? "Will you be all right?" Kuroko asked. "It's awfully late."
Ryouta waved off his concern. "The station's really close by. I need to leave now, though, if I want to make the last train. We'll have to do this again! Next time, let's meet at my place?"
Kuroko smiled again, that small crooked expression that made Ryouta's foolish heart skip a beat. "The project has a lot of work. We'd have to meet again whether either of us wanted to or not."
"You could at least pretend you had fun," Ryouta said, pouting playfully.
"There is no greater joy in life than watching you suffer through postmodern literature," Kuroko intoned, his expression completely flat.
Ryouta scoffed. "I can tell you're joking now, you know!" He'd come a long way in a few hours from thinking Kuroko was basically an android.
They walked to the door together. Kuroko was a host with impeccable manners. He even opened the door for Ryouta, following him out to give him a proper goodbye. But just as they crossed the threshold into the open walkway outside the apartment, Kuroko's entire demeanor changed.
"Wait," he said. He made an aborted motion, as though intending to grab Ryouta's wrist. "It's really late." Kuroko's eyes were focused on something out in the distance. Ryouta couldn't see anything, though, not even in well lit streets outside the complex.
"It's not that late."
"The streets have been dangerous lately," Kuroko said. "I have a spare bedroom. You should stay the night. I'd feel terrible if something happened because I was too rude to offer." But despite the formal invitation, there was something off in Kuroko's voice, something Ryouta wanted to call desperation but couldn't be sure. He meet Kuroko's gaze, thrown off by the sincerity in his eyes.
"Well, all right," he said. "If you really want me around that much!"
That lightened the mood. Kuroko's entire body relaxed, his shoulders actually drooping. "I'll make up the bed for you," he said.
Ryouta followed him back into the apartment, casting a final glance into dark outside. There was nothing noteworthy. He was certain of that. So why did Kuroko seem so spooked?