KuroKen (Kuroo/Kenma) | Angst/Hurt/Comfort
He was admittedly a bit nervous, fidgeting with his collar and casting glances every so often at the clock hanging on the wall. It was agonizingly slow moving, which only seemed to make the pit of nerves in his stomach grow even more. Kuroo ran his hands through his messy black hair. Even though he'd tried his best to make it look slightly less unkempt than it usually was, it always ended up looking exactly the same as it always did.
The aroma of coffee drifted around him suddenly, breaking him from the sluggish trance he seemed to be in. He glanced up, thanking the Barista for walking the drink all the way over to his table. Kuroo knew the effect he usually had on people; specifically how he seemed to attract others. He was tall, and had a nice build from playing Volleyball. Though, as flattering as it would be to anyone else, he didn't really care.
They weren't the eyes he was always trying to catch, anyways. They weren't him.
He watched as the Barista scuttled away nervously, looking back down at the cup and taking a sip. Just then, a deadpan voice cut through his thoughts, making him jolt.
"I see you're still as charming as ever," Kenma stated, his eyes still as strikingly catlike as he'd remembered. It was like he was watching a particularly interesting cut-scene in a game — dissecting its every move for the finishing blow. He shivered a bit, pulling himself upright and offering him a sly grin.
"You know it," Kuroo purred, leisurely rolling back so that he was comfortably slouching against his chair. Despite his cool expression and laid back appearance, inside, he could feel his stomach squirming. Ambient music drifted from the corner of the Cafe, calming his somewhat frayed nerves.
Kenma only rolled his eyes in response, setting down his own coffee. When had he gotten it? Had he really been here this whole time, without Kuroo even noticing? The thought made him jolt slightly. Had Kenma seen him with his vacantly anxious expressions? The thought was even more nerve wrecking than he'd like to have admitted.
"So..." Kenma drawled, lacing a hand around his cup. Not knowing where to begin, Kuroo could only gaze at his golden eyes, pinning him to the spot. His hair had grown out, and it looked even more like pudding than it had before. He couldn't help but drink the sight in, his heart wrenching only slightly. It took every ounce of his strength not to reach across the table and brush the hair out of his face. But he knew Kenma wouldn't like that, so he tethered his frayed emotions.
Kuroo cleared his throat, clenching the cup of coffee and narrowing his eyes, brows furrowing as he began to piece together what he would say. Really, there wasn't any beating around the bush. He just had to rip the band-aid off, so to speak, and get down to it. With a startlingly icy voice, he asked, "So why'd you tell Coach you were quitting?"
Apparently Kenma hadn't been expecting such a direct approach to the conversation. His expression wavered, and his face contorted to a frown. It was the kind of expression that he rarely ever wore, for someone who usually expressed such little interest in anything.
"Well?" Kuroo said a bit more confidently, his fingers digging into the protective cardboard guard around his cup.
"Why do I have to tell you? It's none of your business, Kuroo," he finally answered, his face tilting so that he was looking down at his coffee. He couldn't read his expression, so Kuroo wasn't really sure what tone Kenma was trying to use. Had he upset him? He was only concerned for him.
"I know you don't like to talk about things, usually... but I just..." Kuroo trailed off, finding that his words were becoming harder and harder to form. Damn, this sucked. He grimaced and snapped, "I'm worried about you, dammit. It was so out of the blue, and you don't even want to talk to me about it. Is it something I did?"
He couldn't disguise the hurt in his voice, as much as he tried to. He tried to be nonchalant, but he supposed that he couldn't really hide how he felt about the situation. Kenma hadn't even directly told him about it. He'd learned through Yaku, of all people.
"No..." he said, his voice wavering slightly.
He watched as his friend shifted, restless in his seat. Kuroo wished he could read his mind, or see his expressions. It would make it so much easier if he would just tell him. The thought of losing his best friend, and considerably, teammate — that terrified him. Kenma had been avoiding him, and he'd also been avoiding this conversation. The fact that he was even able to arrange a little meeting with him was a miracle in itself.
"Then what?" he asked, his voice pleading as he leaned forward, gripping his coffee even tighter. If he were paying attention to anything else but Kenma right now, he was sure he'd be concerned about how close his cup was to bursting. But that didn't matter. Nothing mattered at that moment, besides the information he was so hungry for.
Kenma remained silent, his head sinking even lower. His shoulders looked tense, and his hands were gripping his cup with almost as much force as Kuroo was. The silence drew on, stretching out. The ticking of the clock was louder now, driving him absolutely insane. He looked at it, cursing inwardly and wishing it would stop.
The silence droned on further. Kuroo glanced over at him, a look of concern on his face. He leaned in, placing the cup of coffee to the side, and relinquishing it from his grasp. The movement drew his attention, and for the second time since he sat down, Kenma looked at him with a pained expression. And just as quickly, he looked away again, a frown on his face.
"What's wrong?" Kuroo asked his best friend, breaking the suffocating silence. He just wanted to help.
"Please stop asking me, because I'm not telling you," Kenma said in a voice that came out in a snap, the volume much louder than the ambience of the Cafe.
He was taken aback, his heart twisting in surprise. Kenma had gotten annoyed at him, sure. He'd gotten angry at video games, which was the only time he'd ever heard him raise his voice. But he'd never snapped, or directed any genuine anger at Kuroo before. He felt gazes pierce him in curiosity, and he quickly apologized to the other customers.
He could tell that this conversation was probably not going to calm down any, so he stood suddenly and grasped his drink. Kenma looked confused, but Kuroo only offered a, "We should probably leave, I don't want to disrupt anybody's day," before slinging his jacket over his shoulder and exiting the building. He waited expectantly, and was relieved to find that Kenma had in fact followed him out.
They walked in silence, their steps thumping against the pavement. He was sure they were heading back home. They wouldn't have to part ways anyways, since they lived next door to each other.
Kuroo hunched over, taking a sip from his slightly bent, and crinkled cup of coffee. The taste wasn't too welcoming anymore; it'd grown pretty lukewarm with the amount of time he'd spent arguing with Kenma. He threw it in a nearby trash can, a sigh escaping him. And then he stole a glance at the person next to him again, this time not hiding the look of hurt and disappointment.
Kenma met his gaze and scowled at Kuroo defiantly, then back down at his cup of coffee.
But without needing to prod the situation further, he suddenly said, "I can't explain what's going on right now. But I just can't be around Volleyball anymore..."
"I... I understand." He didn't. He didn't understand at all. And despite Kenma constantly denying that Volleyball was anything but mediocre to him, he knew that he caught him smiling from time to time. The memories they'd built at the gym, with their teammates. With their friends. The memories they had built together. Was it that fragile, that it meant nothing in the end? That it could all just come crumbling down at the tiniest hitch in the road?
Kuroo said, lowering his head slightly, "I understand..."
"Oh good," Kenma retorted, the hostility creeping back into his posture and expression. He stopped suddenly, making Kuroo turn around, giving him a confused expression. "I'm so glad that you understand exactly what I'm talking about, Kuroo."
The second coffee cup that day fell from their grasp, splattering against the pavement and rolling to a stop. But neither seemed to pay much attention to it.
A small, and tiny twinge of anger stabbed at Kuroo. He grimaced, shooting Kenma a scowl.
"I just want to help you, Kenma! For once in your life, could you stop constantly shutting me out, or pushing me away? If you don't think I understand, then help me to!" he cried in exasperation, raising his hands to let his face rest on them. He was tired from the constant worrying, and fretting over the past month. Letting his hands drop away from his face, he fixed Kenma with a desperate expression. "...please, help me understand...?"
His eyes stung, but he pushed the feeling as far away as he possibly could.
Kenma flinched, the look of pain and longing on his face sending a tight grip of anguish around his heart. "I can't..." he said.
Kuroo moved closer, closing the distance that Kenma had created between them. Kenma looked like he wanted to retreat, but he only secured him by placing his hands on his shoulders. His grip wasn't tight, but strong enough to keep him from running away. He wouldn't let him, he just wouldn't. Whatever it was that he couldn't say, he needed to say it anyways.
"Stop... please..." Kenma pleaded, his voice suddenly weary and tired.
"Whatever it is, I won't be upset. I won't hate you, even if you're angry at me. I could never hate you," Kuroo responded, fighting the urge to pull him closer, to wrap his arms around him.
The atmosphere around them was heavy, thick with emotions. A crackling storm cloud of electricity and tension, so close to breaking and sweeping everything away in its path. But he held on, clutching the thing that kept him grounded. He felt something fall against his chest, felt Kenma's shoulders suddenly droop and give in. His body wasn't tense anymore, his forehead resting against him.
"I can't play Volleyball anymore, Kuroo. I can't stand it," he said.
"Can't stand Volleyball? Why...? I... I know you don't express much interest in it, I know that. But I also know that to some extent, you enjoy it. I just don't understand how you could throw something like that away," he said, wracking his mind to even remotely figure out why. "Don't you like our team? Don't you... don't you like playing with me?"
He felt Kenma clutch the front of his shirt, could feel his body tensing again. Had he said something wrong?
"No, its none of that," Kenma said suddenly, giving a weak little laugh. "I can't stand being on the team with you anymore, Kuroo. But it's not the way that you think. I only just began to really notice it, honestly. How dependent I am on you, and how often I'm thinking of you. And that's selfish of me. But I wanted to spend as much time as possible with you, even if at first joining Volleyball felt tedious or tiresome..."
Kuroo instinctively wrapped his arms around Kenma, his heart beginning to race against his rib cage. Though he wasn't met with a jerk of surprise, or a tug to get away. It was comfortable, just sitting there in each other's presence.
"But I began to grow used to everyone on the team, and I got so used to how comfortable things got around us. I think I was confused about how I felt, back then. But now, it's different, and I understand exactly how I feel about you," Kenma continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "Kuroo I can't be on the team anymore because of these feelings, and it hurts. It hurts to be close to you, because I know as strongly as I feel about you, I don't want to destroy our friendship. And I'm terrified that your going to push me away, and that it'll hurt even more..."
He halted to a stop, his fingers clutching harder against his shirt. Kuroo's heart stammered, his throat seeming to suddenly tighten. Was he... was Kenma...?
"Kenma, what... What are you saying...?" Kuroo managed. He needed to hear him say it, clearly.
"Isn't it obvious?" Kenma said, pulling away suddenly to glare at him. Tiny, minuscule tears had begun to form in the corners of his eyes. "I'm saying that I love you."
It felt like his lungs had been robbed of any and all oxygen. The ground swayed a little bit, and he had to tighten his grip to steady himself from the sudden shock. Years of pining and hoping, of wishing and longing. Years of bickering, and friendship. Years of feeling as if he'd never be able to utter the very words Kenma had been so unwilling, yet so confident to say just now. His heart was beating madly at this point.
He felt weak. For once, Kuroo was at a loss for words. All he could do was fall forward so that his forehead fell against the top of Kenma's head. He felt relief, and amazement. A wave of emotions, crashing all around him in a swirling cacophony of chaos.
"You idiot..." he finally mumbled after taking a moment to let the air settle around him. "Do you have any idea how long I've been trying to tell you the same damn thing?"
AN: My writing is extremely rust, so I apologize for that.