Better to Ask Forgiveness than Permission

Theme: childhood

Childhood. A simple word, bearing a multitude of ingrained notions of its constitution. Most commonly flourishing the ideal of uninhibited joy and carefreeness beneath its standard. Feeling like friction burns, static shocks, scraped knees and jammed fingers. Tasting of adventure and the bright-eyed, riveting thrill of exploration. Of grass stains on your new gym shorts. Of the screaming terror of tearing down the street as fast as your legs could carry you that time you thought it would be a good idea to approach the random Chocolate Lab leashed – very poorly – to the bike rack outside the kindergarten gates. Of the gritty smells of dirt and damp moss clinging to grime smeared hands as you hunted stag beetles in June. The warmth of the hot cocoa mug held between trembling hands after building blobs that vaguely resembled snowmen in the backyard without having bothered to wear your gloves – frostbite is no joke and your mother wouldn't let you hear the end of it. Yokan and tea at grandmas though you'd really rather ice cream. Parent's day at school where you'd secretly prepared all the answers so it'd look like you didn't spend your days dozing off in the far seat by the window. A notch of experience carved in your belt for every blissful and pain ridden memory.

Who was it that said childhood was a simple time? Perhaps in retrospect, but in the moment it screamed of indistinct pathways and undetermined futures, a myriad of complex anxieties of expectation and approval that chip and chaff and scar. Kozume Kenma knew this better than most. The thing about growing up and living was that you had to interact with others and that didn't always pan out well.

From when we are young, we are taught the conventions of proper and acceptable social behaviour. The constituents of which varies greatly, between nations, between cultures, between families, but the minute details of how to express and control ones desires are among the most fundamental of behavioural facets learned. Still, Kenma found himself grating up against others more often than not. It wasn't that he was doing anything wrong, and no one reprimanded the others so it was possible that despite the unpleasantness it caused him, such behaviours were also acceptable? He didn't understand, so better to keep a safe distance. Around ten feet would do, and a guise of apathy wouldn't hurt either.

"Kenma!"

Unless he was with Kuroo. Because nothing of the sort ever worked with Kuroo. As if to announce his arrival, or simply excited to the degree that he was unable to restrain himself, Kuroo's voice carried from the street outside Kenma's window.

As children we're impressionable. Like chunks of iron and untempered steel we are slowly molded by our world, and it occurred to Kenma long ago that the reason for Kuroo's seemingly unwavering cheerfulness must have been rooted in something other than the name he'd been given. Solid and bold in conviction, a pervasive iron-like exuberance and electric optimism that could power a lightbulb had this energy been something tangible.

"Hi Mrs. Kozume!"

"Hello Tetsurou dear, Kenma's upstairs."

"Thanks Mrs. Kozume! Looking as beautiful as ever today!"

"See if you can't share some of that pep with my Kenma, won't you?"

"Always trying Mrs. Kozume," Kuroo's voice trailed after him as he took the stairs two at a time. Then swift, sock softened footfalls along the hall. The click of the doorknob turning and…

"Hey Kenma!"

"Hi Kuroo."

"I got a new ball today, want to come play?" Kuroo said holding out the white and yellow ball his father had brought home for him. "It's for volleyball. You know, like we saw on tv last week."

"I'm playing a game, Kuroo," Kenma said without looking up.

"Aw, but wouldn't it be more fun playing something together?"

"Not now, Kuroo."

"Ah~ Are those games really all that fun?" Kuroo asked hugging his new ball as he flopped onto his side beside Kenma on the bed.

"Yeah."

"Then can I play it with you?"

"It's only for one person."

"Then-"

"Not now, Kuroo."

"Okay, I'll wait!

Kenma paused for a fraction of a second. Kuroo really was something else. It was one thing to be tenacious, but Kuroo never seemed perturbed or disappointed despite his invites being constantly avoided, shot down or postponed. When Kenma turned him down, Kuroo was more than content to sit by in the room and read a magazine or watch tv while Kenma played his games. This time, he rolled onto his back, tossing and catching his ball, a lax expression on his face, glancing over at Kenma every now and then.

"Hey Kenma~"

"Hmm?"

"Kenma, look at me for a sec."

"I'm busy."

"Kenma~" Kuroo whined, sitting up, the ball stilled in his hands.

"What? I'm fighting the boss right n- mph"

Kenma's eyes went wide in shock as soft, slightly chapped lips pressed against his. Kuroo's yellow ocher eyes boring into his with a gleam of mischief and excitement.

"So?" Kuroo asked with a grin pulling away? "How was it?"

"How was- W-what was that?" Kenma squeaked, flushing red to his ears.

"A kiss of course. Don't tell me you don't know what a kiss is," Kuroo teased.

"Of course I know what a kiss is! But why?"

"Why what?" Kuroo cocked his head to the side curiously. Very cat-like Kenma thought.

"Why kiss me?"

"Well who else am I gonna kiss? Mom says you do it with your favorite person and Kenma's my favorite person!" Kuroo said, the most childish close-eyed grin spreading across his face.

Fwop!

"Kenma? Kenma!" Kuroo opened his eyes at the sound, smile replaced by shocked concern as Kenma had flopped on his side, curled in on himself, hands covering his face – game lying forgotten a few inches away. "Kenma are you alright?"

"Go away."

"But-"

"Go away," Kenma said, voice muffled by his hands.

"Are you mad?"

Kenma tensed at the sullen tone of Kuroo's voice. He wasn't mad. He was the furthest thing from mad. Though what that was exactly, he didn't know, because it sure as hell wasn't happy. There was no way happiness felt so strange and complicated – like knots in your stomach, pulse thundering in your ears and face far too hot to be healthy.

"Don't be mad, Kenma."

"I'm not mad."

"Not mad, or not mad anymore?" Kuroo asked grabbing Kenma's hands and pulling them away from his face. "There's a difference and it's really important. So which is it?"

Kenma's lips pursed into a pout brows furrowing in thought. He hadn't been mad, but he didn't want Kuroo to think it was okay to just do whatever he felt like…

"Not anymore."

"Oh, so you forgive me then? That's good, I was kind of worried for a second there since I've never done it before," Kuroo said, the bright grin back on his face.

Kenma stared blankly not really knowing what the hell Kuroo was talking about. "You couldn't possibly have known I was going to forgive you."

"I didn't, but dad is always sneaking kisses from mom and she gets all huffy but she's usually happier than she lets on. Dad says that life's too short to beat around the bush so you gotta seize the moment when you have the chance or you'll regret it, so it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission," Kuroo declared, fist pumped and eyes gleaming with admiration.

Kenma stared blankly at Kuroo. That surprisingly explained a lot.

"I was worried since I've never not asked permission from you before, so I wasn't sure if it was going to work out like it does at home. But I'm glad it did, 'cause now I know for sure that you like me too!"

Kenma's face flushed red again, ears burning with embarrassment, unable to form coherent thoughts.

"Which means, you'll always forgive me, right?"

Kenma really didn't like where this was going, despite the startlingly pleasant thrumming beat of his racing heart.

"So let's go play now!"

Before Kenma could say a word Kuroo had grabbed his hand, picked up his ball and was making a beeline for the door. Down the hall, socks skidding precariously on the stairs, into shoes and out into the blinding mid-afternoon sun.

When Kuroo glanced over his shoulder, that damn charmingly cheerful grin directed at him, Kenma couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. He was totally swept up in Kuroo's pace, and though he would never admit it, it wasn't a bad pace to be swept up in.

End

A/N: Hello everyone! Here is my second installment for #kurokenmonth on tumblr! I am now in love with the idea of childhood Kuroo, I want to just snatch him up into a hug he's so cute! I did a super quick sketch of childhood Kuroo as well which you can find on my deviant art or tumblr (links in profile). Ah, I'm really having a lot of fun with these themes. Next one's going to be "distance" if I remember correctly. Please look forward to it!

Thanks as always for your time, all comments are very much welcomed and appreciated :)