To say that keeping Kenma's attention was difficult was an understatement. He spends his life analyzing his surroundings from behind a curtain of hair: his teachers, classmates, the teams across the net, the bosses in his videogames… he even knew which of the cats in the neighborhood liked to be petted and which ones preferred to be left alone, or which train passengers he should avoid for they might try to engage him in small talk.

Yes, he keeps an eye on everything and everyone… but only for a while. Once he had picked on the details he needed, he lost interest. He got bored. And Kenma couldn't get himself to focus on things that bored him.

It isn't that much of a problem when it comes to his studies, since he is able to at least grasp the fundamental of each subject, but it's troublesome when it comes to people. Faking interest in order to maintain a friendship is just not his thing. He doesn't blame others for giving up. Who wants to be around someone that hardly ever gets excited about anything? That isn't up to listen to them for hours when they needed to vent?

Kenma straightened a tad at the sound of muffled footsteps.

There are exceptions though. He can't explain them, but they are there. He knows exactly what will happen for the next few minutes. The way the newcomer would quietly enter his room, not wanting to upset Kenma, accompanied by the sweet scent of his favourite dessert, and how the mattress would sink under his weight. The warmth of the body, the ring of the singsong greeting. He could close his eyes and picture it with utmost detail.

And yet he can't help the expectation rushing through his veins.

The door creaks open. The steps stop beside him. The bed sinks.

"New game?" Kenma hums, never detaching his eyes from the screen in which his character is currently opening a chest. "Did you do your homework?" He nods. "Good." He feels a gentle pat on the back, almost a caress. "I brought apple pie for later. Tell me when you're hungry."

"Thanks," he mutters.

He feels the weight lifting from the bed, and after a few seconds he hears the whisper of pages being turned. Kenma takes the chance to spare a glance at his best friend.

Kuroo is sitting on the floor, his back leaning against the bed, reading a notebook filled with diagrams and thorough explanations that Kenma recognizes as volleyball plays. His lips twitch in amusement. Of course. Kuroo rarely sat around doing nothing, he would be either studying or preparing for an upcoming match. The only times he has seen him put everything aside and relax were when Kenma was feeling down. Kuroo is committed to his career and his team, but for some unfathomable reason somewhere along the way Kenma ended up coming first. It makes him feel bad sometimes. It makes him steal glances at him while he is playing as if a part of him still couldn't believe Kuroo is there.

Kuroo catches him staring and his lips part in a smirk. Kenma looks back at the TV screen, but it's too late.

"Do you need my help with that?" Kuroo asks, climbing into the bed and taking a seat behind him. Kenma can hear the smug grin plastered in his face.

"As if."

"Hey, I could surprise you."

"You barely know how to play Mario Kart," Kenma frowns, focused on slashing an armored skeleton. "I'm never getting into a car if you're driving."

"Aw," Kuroo lets out an affected sigh, "you hurt my feelings, Ken-can."

"Don't call me-" he gasps when a hand sneaks under his shirt.

"Yes?"

Shivers run down his spine, the voice too close to his ear. A pair of muscular arms encircle him, hands gently rubbing his skin. Kenma squirms in the embrace, but both of them know he doesn't really want Kuroo to go away. Kenma feels a chaste kiss being pressed against his nape, sending his heartbeat in disarray. He feels Kuroo lean back, away from him, to give him space, as he usually does. He pinches him, taunts him, but never going further, never asking for anything Kenma can't give.

And for once Kenma wishes he could.

Because Kuroo is always there, ready to do anything for him.

His hands tremble and the controller to the floor.

"Kenma?" Kuroo moves towards his side, trying to meet his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Kenma finds himself grabbing the front of his friend's shirt and pulling him into a kiss. The touch is familiar. He knows all too well the slightly dry lips and calloused hands, the lingering taste of energy drink and the smell of soap and deodorant. And yet he can't get enough of it, his blood boiling as it did the first time.

"Kenma…" Kuroo groans. "You are overthinking again, aren't you?" he somehow manages to ask.

"I just…"

"I love you, silly," he plants a kiss on his nose.

"But-" he turns his face to avoid the feathery kisses that try to hush him. "You do so much for me and I…" he hangs his head low.

"Hey," Kuroo cups his chin with one of his big hands, "your character just died and you're here kissing me. Believe it or not, I'm smart enough to know how much that means coming from you. Right?"

"Hmpf…"

"Hey, don't 'hmpf' me. What's the matter?"

"I…" he trails off. "You know I usually get bored of things," he stares intently at him, and waits until Kuroo nods to continue. "I can tell when it happens. But you… It's different. I know all about you but… I don't want this to end," he absentmindedly clutches his chest, "even though I don't know why."

Kuroo blinks once. Twice.

"Because I'm your apple pie supplier, of course," he says in all seriousness.

And Kenma can't help but laugh.

Yes, he might have him all figured out… but that doesn't make him any less interesting.

-.-.-

"So… if one day you couldn't buy apple pie…?" Kenma ponders.

"Don't worry, I'll learn to bake."

"Oh. Well then."