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“Are you sure you don’t want an apartment in Roppongi Hills?” Kuroo asked as he ducked his head through a low doorway.
“I’ve already said no three times,” Kenma replied gruffly. “I’m not saying it again.”
“I mean, this place is nice, but it’s kind of old, y’know? I think the bathroom had black mold; the tiles definitely need to be re-caulked. The gutters were falling off and I think I saw a squirrel nest on the southeast corner; they’re probably clogged with leaves and with autumn coming, you’re risking water damage to the roof.”
“Anything else?” Kenma asked dully as he opened a door to another spare room.
“No, I think that’s it.” Kuroo paused. “Wait, no, I take that back! The doorways are too dang low! I keep bumping my head. How do you expect me to visit if I have to duck through every door? And what if I bring Tsuki, huh? He’s gotten taller again.”
The house was old, the kind of thing you would find in an eight-bit horror game, but it had everything on Kenma’s list and the landlord was near desperate to get someone inside it.
“But it’s a rental so I won’t be tied down,” Kenma said. “There’s a big yard for cats, too.”
“It’s filled with weeds,” Kuroo rebutted.
Kenma glared at him, then passed by him to look into another room. “Weeds can be plucked.”
“You plucking weeds? You hate being outside. You once tried to get out of a run by claiming you were allergic to the sun.”
“Then I’ll hire someone. I have the money.”
Kuroo sighed. He pressed again Kenma’s back and looked into the empty room, the largest yet, probably the master bedroom. Kenma gave him five seconds of contact then stepped forward away from him; Kuroo would understand.
Kenma said, “There’s enough spare rooms for a proper gaming room and an office to edit my videos in, plus a spare bedroom for whenever you want to visit or get drunk with Bokuto and lose your apartment keys.”
“That happened one time!” Kuroo said dramatically, like he was accused of a great crime. “I just don’t see the appeal to this. You can get all those things you want and not have to fix up the place.”
“I like things that need fixing.”
Kenma did not want to look at him because he knew how Kuroo would be thinking, turning over that phrase again and again, twisting it into something it wasn’t, into meaning something it didn’t.
“Well, then it’s perfect, because I’m pretty sure you’ve got an ant problem, too.”
Kenma fell in love with Hinata before he realized it. It felt a lot like coming home from school, loading up a game, and the next time he looked up, it was dark outside.
They were sitting together on the floor of Kenma’s room, Hinata playing a game while Kenma watched and fought back the urge to tell him what to do. There were bags of snacks and sodas all around them and a volleyball Hinata had brought in case Kenma wanted to play, as if Kenma didn’t have his own volleyball.
“You never know,” Hinata had said, ball tucked under his arm and smile so massive it barely fit his face. “I just wanted to make sure we could play together!”
Now, Kenma was staring at Hinata, the blue glow of the screen casting eerie shadows on his face, but all Kenma saw was the cute way his tongue stuck out in concentration, and the faint tan-line where the collar of his t-shirt dropped down to his collarbone, and the way his fingers flicked over the buttons of Kenma’s favorite controller.
He didn't text Kuroo immediately, but he did more quickly than he thought he should.
He wrote, how do you know you like someone?
He hastily added, please don’t be weird
Kuroo texted him back almost immediately. Did you mean to text me or someone else?
Kenma frowned and typed, forget it. you’re being weird.
Kuroo didn’t respond for a few more minutes and Kenma thought Kuroo had forgotten it. Then his phone pinged and when he looked down, he saw Kuroo’s message.
I think it’s probably different for every person. I thought I liked my past girlfriends, but when I met Tsuki it was completely different. I liked things about him I didn’t know you could like about a person. Like how when his knuckles are rough he uses melon scented lotion and how he refuses to eat cherry tomatoes in a single bite. I like how he keeps a dinosaur keychain hidden inside his bag because he likes dinosaurs that much but doesn't want anyone to know he likes dinosaurs.
Kenma paused. are you coming out to me?
Would it change how you think about me if I was?
no.
Then yes, I am coming out to you. Give me a second to type.
Kenma waited, and tried not to look at Hinata, but that was hard when Hinata was looking at him and asking, “Hey, Kenma, how do I do this part?” with a sheepish smile, the kind a child would have when asking how to fix something they broke. Kenma looked at the screen and could instantly tell where Hinata was and what he needed to do.
“Look up and there’s a gemstone. Hit it with the slingshot. It’ll open the door to the dungeon.”
“Ohh, okay, thanks!”
Hinata turned back to the screen and Kenma’s eyes lingered on the curve of his neck, of his slouched shoulders, of the small dip at the small of his back. He thought of the way rice always ended up on his cheeks after he ate rice balls too fast, and how he always put his shoes on left first and didn’t have an answer as to why when Kenma asked.
Before Kuroo could finish whatever monstrosity of a text he was crafting, Kenma sent him, never mind. I know. also I think I’m coming out to you too.
Then, he added, again please don’t be weird.
Kenma signed a one-year lease for the rental and, with his landlords’ approval, began the process of sound-proofing the soon-to-be game room. Soundproofing was something Kenma was good at. When he was a kid, his mom kept scolding him for staying up too late playing games so he started playing with the lights off, hoping she wouldn’t catch him. The problem was, she could still hear him so he learned to soundproof his room. He still got caught, but he also got very good at sound proofing.
His progress was interrupted by Kuroo and Bokuto, armed to the teeth with bottles of sake and beer, who demanded they christen the new house. The next person to visit was Yaku, who brought a small spiky houseplant, which Kenma was certain he was going to forgot about and kill, even if it was on his dining room table. Then there was Yamamoto, who brought take-out and helped him test out the sound-proofing by yelling at the top of his lungs while Kenma sat outside the room trying to hear him.
It took several rounds of screaming-and-checking to get it right.
“I AM SCREAMING VERY LOUDLY!” Yamamoto shouted the first time.
“IS IT WORKING NOW OR CAN YOU STILL HEAR ME?” he shouted the next.
The third time, he shouted, “KENMA, MY THROAT HURTS; PLEASE TELL ME IT WORKED THIS TIME!” but Kenma did not hear him.
Afterward, they sat on the floor of the empty game room, and Kenma imagined what this room would become. Half the room would have a large projector for his games, the other half a three-screen computer. He would have shelves for all of his systems, cabinets for the cords he needed to stream and record. He had put up blackout curtains on the sole window in the room and doubted Yaku’s plant would live here; it may forever live on his dining room table, never to be moved for lack of a better place.
“I haven’t seen you work this hard on something in a while,” Yamamoto commented, voice hoarse. “It makes me wanted to get fired up again!”
He hadn’t needed to scream that loud, but he was always busy and maybe screaming was cathartic. He worked two jobs, one he liked and one he didn’t—being a chef at a small store where he sneaked Kenma and Kuroo a free pitcher of beer whenever they stopped by and late nights as a cashier at a convenience store. Yamamoto was a much better chef than he was a friendly cashier. That blond mohawk and the tattoo on his forearm, no matter how cute and innocent the inked cat was, were not meant for retail.
If Yamamoto would accept it, Kenma would give him a loan to open up his own restaurant, but Yamamoto wanted to make his own way in the world. “Like you did, Kenma,” he had said. If he wouldn’t take money, Kenma thought that maybe he should invite Yamamoto over again when he became overly stressed so he could yell until the stress was gone.
“I can’t wait to see everything all decorated and set up,” Yamamoto said. He flopped onto his back, arms and legs stretched out. “We should play some games together once it is.”
“Maybe,” Kenma said, which to everyone that knew him meant yes, definitely.
Kenma’s phone buzzed and he fished it out of his pocket to see a text and a picture from Hinata. The picture was of what looked to be a stray cat, with calico fur the color of Kenma's hair. The text read, Looks like you! :)
Yamamoto rolled over onto his stomach, propped himself up, and looked at Kenma’s phone.
“You’re still texting him?” Yamamoto asked.
“Why do you care?” Kenma said, which to everyone that knew him meant yes, but I don’t want to admit it.
“I thought you two broke up?”
“Tora,” Kenma said, which to everyone that knew him meant Yamamoto, stop talking.
Yamamoto didn’t have the decency or tact to look apologetic. Instead, his eyes were locked on Kenma, who knew there was no escaping this boss battle.
“Am I wrong?” Yamamoto asked.
“We didn’t break up,” Kenma said, not really an answer. “We’re on pause.”
“Is this some video game reference?” Yamamoto asked. He didn’t even give Kenma time to answer before he kept talking. “Because if you pause in a video game, usually nothing is happening, right? Unless it’s one of those games where enemies still attack you, which I freakin’ hate. But you’re still talking so how are you on pause?”
Kenma didn’t respond. He was never good at talking about things, even after all these years, even if it was with one of his best friends.
But there was a reason Yamamoto was one of his best friends: he knew when to stop asking questions.
“Hey, wanna heat up the rest of that take-out?” Yamamoto asked. “I’m starving.”
“Okay,” Kenma said, which to everyone that knew him meant we’re okay.
“Sweet. Dibs on the rest of the fried chicken.”
Kenma visited Hinata’s home during summer break. The air felt more humid in the country, and Kenma was sticky all the time, his skin feeling ten times heavier because of it. They played video games, and volleyball, and let his younger sister give them makeovers with hair clips that pinched and hurt. Hinata's little sister adored her big brother and with no time at all, she adored Kenma too.
He slept on the floor of Hinata's too-hot room, a fan pointed at him and another pointed at Hinata, who slept on top of the sheets in a mind-numbingly sheer t-shirt and boxers. Kenma lied on the futon set out by Hinata's mother, sweat dripping down his neck, and willed away the urge to look at stare. It was so hard not to when Hinata took off his shirt and pitched it into the hamper, his shorts riding up dangerously high on his thighs.
As the sun set, Hinata’s mother sent them out into the garden behind the house to grab a few cucumbers and tomatoes for a salad. Hinata’s neck was red with sunburn and Kenma’s nose was peeling, too. They got down on their knees in the dirt and put cucumbers into a pile. When they reached the tomatoes, Hinata ate one, then picked another and pressed it against Kenma’s lips. Kenma licks the tomato into his mouth, accidentally swiping across Hinata’s fingers. The juices ran down his chin, warm and sweet.
“Tastes good,” Kenma said, licking his lips clean.
When he looked at Hinata, he saw him staring with large eyes. Then Hinata was moving forward, hands in the soft dirt and tomato on his lips. His lips tasted like summer felt.
When Kenma brought home the cat from the shelter, it was a cold day that smelled like snow. It was the first day that felt and looked like winter, even if he had been pushing the limits of the house’s heating system for two and a half weeks now.
He found Yaku bundled in a puffy winter jacket standing at his front door with cat toys, a bag of catnip, and another house plant; this time, it was a plant with big leaves and long vines. Kenma was barely keeping the first plant he received from Yaku alive. He did not know if he could manage two.
“It’s cat-friendly,” Yaku said, like this was the most important thing. His eyes locked on the carrier Kenma was holding. “Can I see him?”
They went inside, Yaku setting down his plant next to the first then sitting down on the floor in front of the carrier while Kenma went around closing all the doors. He didn’t want the cat to run off and get lost. The cat was solid black with yellow eyes, and Kenma already anticipated it hiding in all the dark shadows of his home.
“You said he was abused?” Yaku asked.
“When he was a kitten. An old lady took him in and got him used to people again, but she passed away and he went up for adoption. He’s nine.”
“And his name?”
Kenma smiled, mischievous. “Tetsurou.”
Yaku smiled, too, with even more mischief. “Did you pick him because of the name?”
“I picked him because he’s older and a black cat and no one else was even looking at him,” Kenma explained. He liked things other people didn’t, things that needed fixing and needed room to grow before becoming something worth bragging about.
Kenma sat next to the carrier and peered inside to where a long short-haired black cat was waiting to be set free. He slowly opened the door and the cat took a few cautious steps out before walking straight towards Yaku and rubbing its head against his hand.
“He so nice and soft and perfect,” Yaku said, petting the cat with both hands. “He’s purring so loud! Do ya hear it?”
Kenma took a picture of Yaku petting Tetsurou and sent it to Kuroo. his name is Tetsurou. don’t be jealous.
He sent the same picture to Hinata and said, got a cat.
He didn’t expect a response right away. They lived twelve hours apart and only ever caught it each other in the early mornings or late at night.
Today, he received a near-immediate response. There was a blurry picture of a dawn-dark city street and something pitch black off to the side. The ocean, maybe?
So cute! On morning run
Name?
Kenma typed back, Tetsurou
Hinata replied quickly, Tell Tsukishima!!
Kenma said, good idea
Yaku didn’t say anything or ask who he was texting; he was too busy petting the cat in his lap.
Now that they were dating, Hinata and Kenma talked to each other every day. It wasn’t always long conversations held on the phone, though those happened and were not as hard as Kenma had expected the first time he stared down the call button under Hinata’s name. Usually they texted each other, even if it was a brief text saying they were tired from practice or a test and would talk tomorrow.
Tonight, they were talking before bed, Hinata going on and on about practice and this new move he was working on. Kenma didn’t have the heart to tell him to stop, even as his eyes began to drift shut. There was one thing he enjoyed hearing more than a video game’s credits and that was Hinata Shouyou’s adorable, excited, happy rambling.
“And then Tsukishima was like boom and blocked it. I’m getting so close. I can feel it. I can taste it. I don't know what it tastes like, but I can!”
Kenma hummed, sleepy.
“Oh, gosh, what time is it?” Hinata asked. “I gotta go Kenma. Thanks for listening! Talk to you tomorrow.”
Hinata hung up and Kenma fell asleep instantly.
Kenma began to move the house plants off the dining room table because he was running out of room. Every time Yaku came to visit Tetsurou, he brought a house plant and a cat toy. The plants had begun to take over his house, turning it into a jungle—a vine hanging on a shelf in his game room, a tall spiky plant behind the toilet that sometimes caught on his hair, something with pink-green leaves on his nightstand, another vine in the guest room, and more still in the kitchen.
He found it easier to manage the plants than he thought and not a single one had died, which was very proud of. He would take videos of Tetsurou playing with a dangling vine or pictures of him curled up near the one on the windowsill. Yaku always received those texts, and Yamamoto wanted in when he found out, and even Kuroo wanted them despite liking dogs more. Soon he had a group chat dedicated entirely to Tetsurou named The Better Tetsurou by Tsukishima, who had one point been added to the group.
He found himself sending the exact same pictures and videos to Hinata. He never knew when he would get a response, whether it would be immediate, or two hours later, or ten, or more, but he always reacted the same when he heard the notification he set for message from Hinata. Heart pounding, palms sweating, stomach turning. He did not know if those feelings were a good sign or a bad sign.
So cute! Hinata would write with a string of emojis. Or, I found Tetsurou’s brother, accompanied by a picture of a black cat he found on the street. Sometimes Hinata would just send pictures of the beach he was practicing at; Kenma hated those pictures the most.
Kenma was never quite sure when Kuroo and Tsukishima began to date. Kuroo didn’t bring it up until well into their relationship. He often wondered if the two were together when Kuroo detailed the strange things he loved about Tsukishima in that text, or if it was later. In any case, they were together, and Kuroo asked Kenma to bring Hinata out for a double date.
A small part of Kenma thought double dates were one of those mystical things that only happened in movies, like crazy adventures during school breaks and people having sex at school. He didn’t think people actually did those things.
Kenma wanted to turn him down immediately, but thought he should at least ask Hinata. He got what he expected, an enthusiastic yes. Kenma wondered if it was because he was interested in seeing Tsukishima with Kuroo; apparently most of Tsukishima’s teammates knew about the relationship but no one ever saw them together and there was a great debate over how Tsukishima acted with his boyfriend. It also could have been because Hinata and Kenma rarely saw each other in person, and a date meant they were promised to meet up.
Regardless, Kenma and Kuroo met Hinata and Tsukishima at the train station. Hinata hugged Kenma immediately, but Kuroo just smiled at Tsukishima, who smiled back. Hinata was clearly watching them over Kenma’s shoulder as they hugged and Kenma laughed.
Winter had come strong this year, piles of snow with a short-lived sun and blistering cold winds. Kenma never did well with winter. He could not explain the empty sadness that filled him during the season. He could not explain why some days he could be fine and the next, he would cry watching Tetsurou eat. His emotions built and built during the year and they came pouring out in winter against his will.
He never told anyone this, not even Hinata, but they all still seemed to know.
Hinata messaged him more, which was a blessing and a curse.
Watched first ep of your new let’s play series and its really good so far, he wrote along with a picture of his laptop next to his breakfast. Sometimes he’d send a video someone took of him spiking and Kenma would watch it over and over and over before going to bed and deleting it in the morning. He saved every other picture and video Hinata sent, but he couldn’t bear to watch him play volleyball.
He left me so he could focus all of his energy on volleyball, Kenma thought. He was coming to despise the sport that made him interested in Hinata in the first place.
Yamamoto came more often, bringing food from the restaurant he worked at. Kenma was his guinea pig for new things he wanted to try and Kenma did not mind because he could go an entire day without eating when he got busy and not even realize it. Yamamoto picked up on this and meal prepped weeks’ worth of good, healthy food for him that he could keep in his freezer until he was ready to eat it. It was so good, Kenma regretted the initial fight that ensued when Yamamoto brought it over.
Yaku came so often, Kenma had to forbid him from bringing any more plants. He was running out of space, even if Tetsurou liked them. Tetsurou’s favorite spots were next to the heater, on Kenma’s lap, and under that frankly massive floor plant Yaku brought the last time he came.
Even Inuoka came and spent the night once, the two playing video games way past normal hours. He texted more than the others to make up for his lack of visits, and he didn’t get angry when Kenma didn’t respond right away because he was in class, or a meeting, or playing a game on stream.
Kuroo would come more than the others combined, spending nights in the guest room and cooking delicious omelets for breakfast. It started as weekends, but quickly turned to weekdays, too, since the house was close enough to Kuroo’s university for him to bike to. They would watch movies on Saturday nights, and Kuroo knew which plants to water and which not to, and sometimes they would sleep together in Kenma’s bed like they were children again.
Once, when they were sharing his bed, Hinata sent him a text. It was early morning in Japan, but it was becoming late in Brazil. The text didn’t have any words, just a picture of a sun-tanned Hinata standing in front of a sunset. The picture was clearly taken by someone else and they didn’t know how to capture the beauty of Hinata in the sun.
Kenma’s throat felt like it was filled with cotton. He could not breathe, only sob, tears welling in his eyes.
“Kenma?” Kuroo said. He propped himself up and looked over Kenma’s shoulder to see his phone. “Oh.”
“I miss him,” Kenma said, unable to look away from the phone, his voice wobbly and broken with emotions he tried so hard to repress. He forced himself to click out of the message and turned towards Kuroo, who wrapped his arms around him. “I hate him and I love him and I miss him.”
“I know,” Kuroo said quietly, rubbing up and down his back. “What can I do to help?”
“Convince him volleyball isn’t worth it.”
“Would you still love him if he gave it up?”
“No.”
“Okay. Then, what can I do that’s more realistic? Food, movies, a new game?”
“This.” Kenma buried his face into Kuroo’s chest, soaking his shirt with his tears. “Just this.”
Kuroo did not leave even after Kenma cried himself back to sleep.
Are you okay? Hinata asked.
why? Kenma said.
Well when we talked earlier you just seemed sort of down?
I was wondering what I could do to help?
I’m here if you need me! Always!
Spring came and the yard work could not be put off any longer. There were weeds larger than him that needed pulling, trees that needed trimming, large barren patches of dirt that needed sod, and flowerbeds with no living flowers. There was also a nasty lizard living in that weird outdoor sink that Kenma may have forgotten to mention to Kuroo, Yamamoto, and Yaku when he asked for their help.
Kuroo arrived in his father’s truck, the bed filled with all the things Kenma had ordered from a local nursery—a few shovels of various sizes, bags of soil, a couple of squares of sod, and regionally-appropriate plants that Yaku promised were very, very hard to kill. The house plants Yaku gave him hadn’t died yet, but the vine in his game room had started to grow at a startling pace. The vines were going to be chopped off if they so much as looked at his vintage video game collection.
Slathered in sunscreen and completely unprepared for the lizard in the sink, the three set out to work. Yaku, who was much better at this sort of thing, quickly took charge. He seemed to take a great deal of delight in ordering Kuroo around, even asking Kuroo to call him Captain Yaku, which Kuroo adamantly refused to do. This led to Kuroo being delegated to sod duty, which meant digging up barren patches of dirt to put down new grass.
Kenma decided that if he was asked to call him Captain Yaku, he would; he wanted to put in as little labor as possible. The only reason he did not let his landlord hire a landscaping service was because Yaku was so excited to do it himself.
“You should wear a hat since your skin is so pale,” Yaku said, putting a straw sunhat over Kenma’s head. Kenma saw Yamamoto trying to sneak a photo and glared at him.
The yard was not massive, but it was not small either. Still, they managed to pull the weeds from the grass and dig up the dead plants in the flower beds. Kuroo was still working on the sod by the time they began to dig up the soil to put the new plants in.
Kenma was the first to notice that someone else was standing at the stone steps that led up to the house. Tsukishima was tall and pale, his curly hair frizzy in the humid spring air.
“Kuroo,” Kenma said.
Kuroo followed his eyes, his face lighting up when he saw his boyfriend. He began to make his way over and Yaku said, “Hey, we agreed on group breaks after Kenma disappeared for half an hour,” then saw Tsukishima and said, “Oh, never mind.”
“I brought you a hat,” Tsukishima said, holding up a snapback with his university’s logo.
Kuroo put on the hat and struck a few poses. “How does it look? Beautiful? Dashing? Sexy?”
“It’s not a complete disaster.”
Kuroo smiled widely and stepped forward to hug him. Tsukishima put out his arms in protest. He said, “You’re filthy,” but his arms collapsed without resistance when Kuroo took another step forward.
Kuroo wrapped his arms around Tsukishima’s neck and Tsukishima’s hands settled onto Kuroo’s ribs. Watching them, Kenma felt Hinata’s ribs under his hands, bony when they first met and harder to feel when he began to build his muscles more seriously. When Kuroo stretched out his neck and kissed Tsukishima, Kenma tasted tomatoes and felt summer on the back of his neck.
Kuroo kept an arm around Tsukishima’s waist when they broke apart. He spoke quietly to him, telling him something, pointing out piles of weeds and dirt and trash they had found. Tsukishima laughed. Kuroo put a hand against Tsukishima’s belly and leaned over to kiss him on the cheek.
Kenma looked away. Looking at them felt too good and hurt too much at the same time.
“How’s it going?” Tsukishima asked, having separated completely from Kuroo.
“I hate the sun, I’m sweating, and I have dirt where I should not have dirt,” Kenma said. “So, about what I expected.”
Tsukishima smiled wryly. “I’m surprised you’re doing this yourself and not hiring someone, or asking your landlord to hire someone.”
Kenma was quiet for a moment. Tsukishima would let him ignore the comment if he wanted. He ended up saying, “Yaku wanted to. Besides, I need to be busy.”
“I can understand that. Tetsurou’s the same way.”
“The cat or the boyfriend?”
Tsukishima snorted. “The boyfriend. I can’t get him to stop for a second.”
Then, Yamamoto shouted, “There's a fucking lizard in the sink!”
Kenma thought he loved Hinata before Hinata loved him, but Hinata was the first to say it. And, because it was Hinata, he said it by accident without realizing what he had said.
“Anyways, I gotta go, love you, bye!” Hinata said in a hurry, his mother’s voice in the background telling him to get off the phone and go to bed.
Kenma paused his game, looked at the phone on the floor that had been on speaker, and frowned. Did he just hear that, or did he too need to go to bed?
The first time Hinata said it and meant to say it, Kenma said it back.
Summer came and the yard work during the spring paid off. The yard was green like a forest floor, young ivy crept up the fences, and summer flowers bloomed as the spring flowers faded away. Yaku came with bags of bird seed to hang on the low tree branches and Tetsurou watched the birds come and go from inside on his windowsill.
Tetsurou didn’t go outside often—Kenma didn’t like the thought of him going out with supervision—but he came when Kenma went to water the gardens. The cat found endless joy in sneaking mud into the house for Kenma to step in and curse over.
However, there was another cat that loved being outside. Kenma thought it was lost at first, but had not seen any signs and the cat did not have a collar. It might have had a chip, but before Kenma could grab it, the cat disappeared into the bushes behind the house. When he saw the cat again, it was even thinner and Kenma’s heart ached.
He texted Kuroo, tell me not to befriend the stray cat.
Kuroo replied with a question mark.
Kenma sighed. That night, he set out a bowl of water and food behind the house and hoped it didn’t draw raccoons or squirrels.
The cat was beautiful—a long haired tabby with soft light fur the color of sugar cookies. After a few nights of leaving out food, the cat would approach him when he went out to water the garden. They were not afraid of Tetsurou and Tetsurou was not afraid of them, and Kenma knew he couldn’t feed the cat forever without letting it inside. The weather was fine for now, but fall would come quickly and snap away the summer heat.
One day, Kenma picked up the cat, noticed the distinct lack of testes, and said, “Your name is Zelda.”
Zelda meowed back and Kenma brought her inside. After getting her used to the first room in the house and arranging a visit to the vet to get her vaccinated and cleaned of any bugs, he sent a picture and a message to the group chat, The Better Tetsurou.
maybe got a new cat, he wrote. have to take to vet and make sure there’s not a chip.
Yaku responded first. boy or girl? name? breed?
girl, Zelda, no idea she’s a stray, Kenma wrote.
looks like a light haired tabby, Yaku said. Then, ill stop by tomorrow with a toy and a plant
please no more plants, Kenma said.
YOU SHOULD HAVE NAMED HER TSUKI SO WE’D MATCH, Kuroo texted.
I will sell you my soul to keep you from naming that cat after me, Tsukishima said.
Kuroo said, Aww :(
gross, Yaku wrote. take it out of the group chat
Kenma waited to text Hinata about the new cat until after the vet visit. Zelda did not have a chip so Kenma paid for her shots and to have the bugs in her ears taken care of. The vets said she was probably eight to nine weeks old and would have plenty of energy.
Kenma made sure to buy an extra scratching post and to keep the door to his game room closed until Zelda could be trained. He did not want his game systems, some of which he paid a pretty penny for, to come crashing down because of a curious kitty.
When he got home, he made dinner while Tetsurou taught Zelda how to jump onto the fridge without Kenma noticing. That night, he took a picture of Zelda sleeping on his chest and sent it to Hinata.
her name is Zelda
In the morning, he saw Hinata’s reply, I get that reference! :)
Kenma never talked to Kuroo about Hinata, no matter how often Kuroo tried. He most definitely did not talk to Kuroo about sex with Hinata. Yamamato talked about girls, but in a romantic, longing way, not in a sexual way. None of Kenma’s friends were eager to share details of their sexual exploits, if there were sexual exploits to be had in the first place.
Kenma knew some teenagers had sex very quickly. He knew others waited. He was not sure where he and Hinata fell on that line.
He was not good with words, not like Hinata. He couldn’t say I miss you or I love you as easily as him. Hinata said those things and more as easily as he breathed, like they were a natural part of him, like loving Kenma was the most effortless thing he had done.
Falling in love with Hinata was the most effortless thing Kenma had done, but expressing that love was the hardest. Still, he found it easy when Hinata’s ribs were under his hands and his lips were on his jaw. He found it so, so easy to say I love you, I love you, I love you when all he could think about was Hinata Shouyou, warm and alive and in love with him.
The morning after, all he knew was that he wanted to wake up with Hinata’s lips on the nape of his neck and his arms around his waist every morning for the rest of his life. He knew he wanted to be able to roll over, to see the sun shine through his hair until it was a completely new color unlike anything Kenma had seen before, and watch him sleep until some invisible force woke him up.
Eventually, Hinata slowly opened his eyes, not saying a word, and brushed Kenma’s hair away from his eyes. He looked at Kenma like he was something beautiful, something worthy of treasuring and protecting and loving no matter the cost.
“Morning,” Hinata said, and he smiled.
“Morning,” Kenma said, and he smiled, too.
Kenma dived into his work, renewed his lease, and tried not to think about how Hinata would be coming home in three months’ time. In his spare time, he worked as a board member for a company and dabbled in stock trading, but the vast majority of his income came from his YouTube channel where he live-streamed games and uploaded pre-recorded let’s plays of classic games.
Kuroo had somehow become a main figure on his channel, appearing during his live-streams on Fridays or in his own videos where he dissected physics and biology and other sciences in video games. Kenma didn’t know how Kuroo had time to think about science after coming home from university where he double majored in biology and biochemistry and worked in a lab. When the science videos became nauseatingly popular, Kuroo joked that he was famous.
I need help controlling his ego, Tsukishima texted him. He keeps asking if I want his autograph now.
Kenma made Kuroo swear on every famous scientist he loved that he would stop the series if it became too much for him to handle. The series, which Kuroo titled, How Video Games Break the Laws of Nature, became a monthly feature on Kenma’s channel. As a result, Kenma’s audience became increasingly curious about Kuroo. Kenma was equal parts annoyed and amused because Kuroo became unbearable and the idea of someone being interested in dorky, weird, annoying Kuroo was hilarious.
“So how does this work?” Kuroo asked. They were sitting on a sofa in Kenma’s office with a camera pointed at them and a bowl of questions Yamamoto and Tsukishima had pulled from Kenma’s twitter.
“Just pull out a piece of paper, read the question, and we answer it. If we don’t want to include it, I’ll cut it out when editing.”
Kuroo nodded. He had a nervous edge to him. Appearing casually in the background of Kenma’s livestreams or doing voice-overs on videos was completely different than appearing on screen.
“You don’t have to do this,” Kenma said. “I can do it myself.”
“No, it’s okay. Don’t we have to do an intro or something?”
“We’ll record that later.”
“Should I do the first question?” Kenma reached into the bowl and handed him a strip of paper. Kuroo read, “’How did you and Kuroo meet?’ Should I answer, or should you?”
“You read the question, you answer,” Kenma said.
Kuroo looked vaguely at the camera, but more at Kenma. “My family moved in next to his and our parents kept arranging playdates for us. I was a painfully shy kid so I mostly watched him play video games, but then I got into volleyball and forced him to play with me. We were on the same team in junior high and high school and even went to Nationals together. He liked volleyball almost as much as video games in the end.”
Kuroo had on his signature shit-eating grin. Kenma rolled his eyes and reached into the bowl, reading out the next question, “’Kuroo, how do you style your hair?’”
“Wait, did Tsuki write that one?” Kuroo snatched the sheet of paper and said, “Goddamn it, he did! He’s always giving me a hard time about my bedhead.”
Kenma reached for another piece of paper.
“Hey, wait, it’s my turn to draw a question!”
Kenma ignored him and read in a monotone drawl, “'Cats cats cats cats cats.’”
“I think they want to see the cats,” Kuroo said, snickering.
Kenma sighed. “Let me go find them.”
“What should I do?”
“Either be quiet and I’ll cut this out when I edit, or keep them entertained.”
Kenma left the room to corral Tetsurou and Zelda, and he had no idea what Kuroo did until he uploaded the footage onto his computer to edit. He was met by Kuroo showing pictures of Kenma and him from when they were adults back to when they were children. Kenma didn’t know how Kuroo had so many pictures of them, let alone why he kept them on his phone.
After some deliberation, Kenma left that part in, deciding Kuroo’s joy over the bit was worth whatever embarrassment that followed.
Hinata was always intense when he played volleyball, but during his third year, his intensity reached a new level. He always had a volleyball within arm’s reach and would try to spike it against any surface regardless of whether it would be socially acceptable or not. Whenever he visited Kenma, he always wanted him to set for him. Kenma loved setting to Hinata, but he could never keep up and Hinata never wanted to stop.
Rumor had it Kageyama would be on the next Olympic team at this rate and Hinata didn’t want to lose to him.
Kenma just didn’t want to lose Hinata.
When I come back to Japan, can I stay at your place? Hinata wrote. I want to see you before I see my parents.
Then, It’s okay if you don’t want to!
Another, I get that it’s a lot to ask but I really wanna see you!
Kenma thought about it for twenty-four hours by himself before calling in the help of Kuroo and Yamamato, both of whom said it was a bad idea. He waited another twenty-four hours before replying.
ok
When Kenma moved into a small apartment to attend university, he was just happy it didn’t have bugs. He was also happy he could get a good wifi signal. He was even more happy that Kuroo, who Kenma reluctantly agreed to room with to appease their worrying parents, agreed to make himself scarce the weekend Hinata came to visit.
Kenma was cooking, or trying to, when Hinata arrived. They agreed Kenma would not pick him up at the station, Hinata enjoying the novel adventure of finding his apartment in a big city, unless it became dark and Hinata was truly and utterly lost. Instead, he heard a knock at his door, and jumped, nearly pouring an entire container of pepper into the stir-fry he was making.
There was no one around to see him so eager so he ignored vanity and quickly headed for the door, not even stopping to see who it was. Hinata threw himself at Kenma, not even checking that it was him instead of Kuroo. He was just as eager as Kenma, maybe even more so, an idea which made Kenma fuzzy with happiness.
“Kenma!”
Kenma somehow managed to get Hinata’s bag inside and the door closed without untangling himself from Hinata’s embrace.
Hinata adjusted his arms around Kenma and they began to sway, dancing around the room at a snail’s pace, more interested in each other than the steps of their feet.
“I missed you,” Kenma said quietly. He tugged at Hinata’s sweatshirt. “I want to kiss you. I want to show you a new route in the game I’m speed running. I want to see you naked.”
Hinata laughed and they danced. “I’m all yours for the weekend, remember? If you set to me a few times, I’ll do whatever you want!”
Kenma smiled, mirthful, and they kept dancing. “Whatever I want?” he asked, wondering if Hinata would catch his meaning. “That’s a dangerous thing to promise me.”
Hinata did; he always knew what Kenma was thinking.
“Whatever you want,” he promised.
And they danced.
Kenma did not see Tsukishima as often when he became busy with classes, but they still found time together, usually if Tsukishima and Kuroo were having an argument and Tsukishima needed to talk to someone that understood Kuroo’s behavior. Tsukishima and Kuroo were not fighting when they met at a café near Kenma’s house, at least not that Kenma knew of.
“I heard he’s coming back,” Tsukishima mentioned between bites of his sandwich.
Kenma glared at him. “Kuroo put you up to this.”
“He said you won’t talk about it with him or Yamamoto or anyone else.” Tsukishima shrugged. “He’s anxious and it’s starting to make me anxious.”
Kenma didn’t apologize. He wasn’t responsible for Kuroo’s behavior. He did ask, “Has he talked to you?”
Tsukishima seemed to understand he meant Hinata and not Kuroo. “We usually only talk through our group chat, but he’s texts me every few weeks asking about you. He doesn’t want me to tell you he’s asking.”
Kenma didn’t know what to make of that. Hinata was not the type of person to hide things.
“I think he regrets what he did,” Tsukishima said. “And he should. He was an asshole. I don’t know why you’d give him a second of your time after what happened.”
“It was mutual.”
“Was it?”
Kenma glared at him again, but Tsukishima wasn’t looking.
Hinata mentioned it once, then twice, then it was all he could talk about.
Going overseas to play beach volleyball.
Going overseas so he could see his dream come true.
(Going overseas and leaving Kenma behind.)
Like the first time Hinata came to visit him, Kenma did not meet him at the station. He felt like his friends had secretly set up a schedule to keep him occupied while he waited for Hinata. Yaku stopped by in the morning for breakfast and a visit with the cats, and Kuroo texted him in the middle of the day every half hour to the second, and Yamamoto showed up with food for dinner. Kenma appreciated it, but he appreciated that they didn't mention Hinata even more.
When Hinata finally arrived at his house, it was late at night. Moths gathered around the porch lamp and his friends had stopped all communication, but Kenma suspected they would respond in an instant if he texted them. Eventually, Hinata arrived at his front door, shoulders hunched and unsure, Kenma wondered if he was looking at the Hinata Shouyou he once knew and loved.
The man smiled sheepishly and said, “It’s good to see you, Kenma.”
It felt so strange to see him again. He wanted to hug him. He wanted to kiss him. He wanted to dance around the kitchen with him. He wanted to play video games with him, and show him the cats, and welcome him into the home he had made.
Did I make this for him to come back to? Kenma wondered. The thought hadn’t occurred to him earlier.
Kenma’s throat went tight. “Come on in,” he said, stepping inside. “Did you eat? It’s late, but Tora stopped by earlier and I still have leftovers.”
“Ah, I guess it is late. And no, I’m good, I ate on the plane.”
“Do you want to see the house?” Kenma asked.
Hinata nodded. “Yeah!”
Kenma planned to give him a short tour, but Hinata talked through every second of it and Tetsurou and Zelda made it even longer. Hinata was completely enamored with the cats, sitting down to stroke them, and they were completely enamored with him, crawling up his back to perch on his shoulders and rub against his face.
Kenma took a picture, the light flashing, and Hinata looked at him with one of those brilliant smiles that made him fall in love in the first place. His heart couldn’t take it. He wanted to talk to him. He didn’t know how to talk to him. It had been so long since he saw him in person, since he could reach out and touch him and kiss him and feel his sun-warmed skin.
Kenma yawned and Hinata said, “Time for bed? I’ll crawl in for the night when you do.”
“Doesn’t your body still think it’s the middle of the day?”
Hinata shrugged and Tetsurou jumped out of his lap, Zelda quickly following. “I’m really good at forcing myself to go to sleep."
“Then I’m going to bed,” Kenma said, pushing himself up to his feet.
Kenma made the short trip to his bedroom, taking off his sweatshirt and revealing nothing underneath. He felt Hinata’s eyes on him with the same heavy intensity of when he was on the court. Kenma loved that intensity and thought it was the most beautifully strong, stubborn, stupid thing in the world, but he did not know why that was aimed at him.
His shoulders were defined by pale skin stretched over protruding bones. There was no thick muscle won after rigorous exercise, or soft fat from late night indulgences. He never was strong, but he was quick to think and to move and that was what the team needed from him.
He didn’t know what a man like Hinata Shouyou needed from him. It would be easier if he did.
He stripped down to his underwear, tossed his clothes into the hamper to be washed, then turned to face him.
“I—I—” Hinata stammered. “I can stay in the other room. In that guest room you showed me?"
Kenma wanted to wake up with Hinata next to him, warm and soft from sleep. He wanted to be eating breakfast and see Hinata stretching in the garden outside to prepare for his morning run. He wanted to sit in the stands and silently cheer him on; if Hinata wanted him to scream and shout his support, Kenma may even agree. He wanted to be there when Hinata saw his dreams come true, wanted Hinata there when he saw his own dreams come true.
But maybe after all this time, Hinata didn’t want him.
“Whatever,” Kenma said dismissively. “Just turn off the light on the way out.”
He crawled into his bed, pulling the sheets up to his chin and turning so his back was to Hinata. He burned with embarrassment, feeling so very stupid for thinking that Hinata still felt the same, still wanted the same things. Two years was a long time to leave a game on pause and come back knowing exactly where you left off.
A hand touched his shoulder and Kenma jerked.
“Kenma, I’m sorry,” Hinata said quietly. “Do you still want me to stay?"
“I’m not going to force you to stay if you don't want to, Shouyou,” Kenma muttered.
“You’re not—I just—” Hinata shuffled. “I don’t know if I can do this.”
Kenma curled into a ball, fighting back the tears. Stupid, he thought. He knew this was how this was going to end. From the second Hinata asked they take a break, that they pause, he knew there would be no restarting. The game would be turned off, all unsaved data lost, and it would never be turned on again to be completed.
“I tried so hard to focus on volleyball like I was supposed to, but I kept thinking of you. Whenever I got a set that wasn’t quite right, I’d think, ‘Kenma would have done a better job.’ Every time I landed an awesome spike, I kept looking around to see if you would be there watching. I tried so hard to focus on volleyball and nothing else, but you were always on my mind. Every night, I wanted to call and wish you a good morning and tell you I love and I—I couldn’t because I couldn’t do that to you.”
Kenma did not turn around, did not move. The only thing that moved was his heart, his lungs, his blood, and the tears that welled up in his eyes and flowed down onto his cheeks.
“I told you to wait for me without thinking that I would have to wait, too. It was so selfish and unfair and I wanted to take it back after a month of being away from you. But I thought I’d hurt you too bad, and you wouldn’t want me back, and I didn’t want to lose whatever piece of us was left. If you just wanted to be friends after I hurt you, I would accept that. I wouldn't push you."
“Shouyou,” Kenma said, but Hinata didn’t hear him.
“I was stupid and gave you up because I didn’t think I could handle you and volleyball at the same time, but I realized that it would be empty and pointless without you there to celebrate with me. So what if I win? A victory without teammates is hollow and pointless, and it’s hollow and pointless without you, too. I’m sorry for what I did. I’d take it back if I could. And I know you may not want to take me back, so I don’t want to get my hopes up. If you want me to leave, I'll leave. I'd deserve it after what I did."
“Shouyou,” Kenma said again, louder.
“Yeah?” Hinata said hesitantly.
“Get in the bed.”
There was the rustle of fabric, first of Hinata stripping down to his sweatpants, then of the sheets moving. Hinata slid into his bed and wrapped his arms around him, warm and familiar. Hinata’s nose was cold against the nape of his neck but his breath was hot, and Kenma did not know whether to shiver or melt.
"Kenma," he whispered. "I missed you so much. I love you so much."
Hinata held him tighter, and Kenma fell asleep instantly.
“I’m going to Brazil!” Hinata said it with so much joy that Kenma thought he should have felt happy, too. But he didn’t. All he felt was a swirl of nausea in his stomach. Hinata went on, “For two years, at most. I’m going to focus on nothing but volleyball and come back better than ever!”
“Nothing but volleyball?” Kenma asked, his voice level.
Hinata looked at him and nodded. “Yeah."
"Even us?"
Hinata shuffled in place, rubbing his growing hair nervously. "I was thinking we could just pause, y’know? And when I come back, we’ll pick back up, and—”
“Pause?”
“Like, we could still talk, maybe? But none of the romance stuff.”
“None of the—” Kenma pursed his lips together. “Are you breaking up with me?”
“No, no, no. No way. I just—I need to focus on volleyball, Kenma. I can’t have any distractions.”
This is his dream, Kenma thought. This is what he wants more than he wants you and that will never change.
“Fine. We’ll pause.”
Jet lag didn’t seem to affect Hinata the way it did normal people. He had slept soundly even when Kenma crawled out of bed to use the bathroom in the middle of the night. When he lied back down, Hinata had wrapped around him again and hadn't let go. In the morning, Kenma felt legs tangled with his, an arm tucked under his waist, and a furry tail flicking at his neck where there should be sun-warm lips. He turned towards Hinata only to be met with a face full of fur.
“Kenma,” Hinata said, his voice muffled by Tetsurou’s butt. “I can’t breathe.”
Kenma laughed quietly then scooped up Tetsurou and put him further down on the bed. When he lied back down, he faced Hinata.
“Morning,” Hinata said, smile soft and sleepy.
“Morning,” Kenma replied.
“About yesterday and what I said,” Hinata said. “I still mean it. I screwed up. Big time. And I know I can’t take back these past two years and do it right, but I want to do it right in the future.”
“Tsukishima said you were an asshole for what you did.” Hinata said nothing. Kenma went on, “I know how important volleyball is to you. And I’ll never ask you to stop volleyball for me.”
“I know you wouldn’t.”
“But if you don’t take this relationship as seriously as you do volleyball, I’ll never forgive you, Shouyou."
“I’ll take it seriously,” Hinata promised. “I won’t screw up like that ever again.”
Kenma watched him, tried to see if he meant it, but he knew he did. Hinata Shouyou didn’t lie.
“Good,” Kenma said, smiling impishly, “because you’d be boring if you couldn’t handle volleyball and me at the same time.”