space oddity

by gyoomie

What could possibly go wrong? — a strange boy meets a stranger who's out of this world. or: normalcy is a luxury that few can afford. human/alien au; kenhina.

[ note ] this took a little over five months of on and off writing (with a great deal of assignment stress in-between), but aaa it's finally done! who knew that an idea inspired by a scene from a BL manga called uchuu de ichiban kimi ga suki would result in such a beast sdhsjdsjd

honestly idk if i could've finished this w/o all the encouragement from friends, both old and new alike. i haven't felt confident about my own writing in a long time, let along writing a full-fledged thing like this (for a fandom with canon characterisation, no less!), but i've always wanted to write a story that looks at how life is like when ur on the asexual spectrum, a story in which the characters never outright say i love you – yet u know that they love each other all the same.

and this is that story. (also it does push the T rating a bit in one scene, but nothing explicit, i promise.) enjoy!

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space oddity

(this pounding feeling between us still unidentified
a wonder to the universe, you and i)

.

There's a shortcut through the park to get home from the train station in under ten minutes.

Kenma only came to discover this recently, but since then it's been nothing short of smooth-sailing. It's not so much about the distance as it is about convenience: not only can he avoid the crowd of people swarming that new fusion restaurant that opened a few weeks ago, but he can also get some exercise like Kuroo keeps nagging him to. Two birds with one stone.

Well. Until now, at least.

Kenma has never seen a crater up close before – and hopes never to see one ever again – but he assumes that this is gigantic, even for craters. It's several inches deep, enough for a person to jump in and climb out with no trouble, and about twice the size of his kitchen back home. As Kenma approaches what used to be the corner of the footpath, the smell of smoke lingers in the air, thick and suffocating. It's probably from the charred grass surrounding it.

Or maybe it's from the sleek and shiny and garishly mustard yellow spacecraft-looking thing in the centre of the crater.

Kenma squints. The cover of nightfall is making it a bit difficult to see, but it looks like there's something next to the spacecraft thing, too. Something orange and curled up, unmoving. Something straight out of a science fiction movie.

Yeah, no.

Kenma turns on his heel, gravel crunching under his sneakers. He doesn't know what's going on, but he's not planning to stick around to find out. It's probably just some engineering dude having too much fun with a project, anyway. So troublesome.

Except... Kenma slows, but keeps walking at a steady pace. The weather forecast said that it would rain later – a heavy downpour, even. It's nearing the end of autumn, and the currently cool air can drop to downright freezing temperatures overnight.

But that's got nothing to do with him, right? Who cares if that orange person... blob... thing lives or drowns or turns into a popsicle. It's none of his business.

He's almost out of the park, anyway. The exit is just a couple of feet ahead.

...

'Don't get me wrong,' Kenma mumbles, popping his portable umbrella open and propping it up over the orange blob. 'I just. You know. Stay safe. Don't die,' he adds lamely.

He climbs out of the crater, glancing back once to make sure the umbrella is still in place. The orange blob hasn't moved an inch, but it's not like he's concerned about it or anything, really.

It's only when his apartment building comes into view that Kenma remembers he only has one functional portable umbrella – or rather, had. Now he has to go get himself a new one.

Ugh. So troublesome.

.

Kenma likes to think that he peaked in high school.

It was a time where he was actually doing something with his life: he dyed his hair for the first time, was a regular on the volleyball team, made it all the way to nationals twice, and had a small circle of friends to call his own. Even if it was just for a little while, that warm sense of camaraderie made him feel like he was a part of the bigger picture - like he had a real place to belong.

Now, his volleyball days are long behind him – he barely has the energy to take the stairs these days, let alone keep a ball from hitting the ground for hours on end. His social circle consists of just two people: Kuroo, his childhood friend of many years, and Tsukishima, Kuroo's boyfriend of not-as-many years. (Kenma lost count after four.) He hasn't seen the others since their last annual reunion dinner, and he doesn't really hear from anyone, either, aside from the occasional holiday greeting text.

And that's fine, Kenma supposes. A lot of his old teammates have been calling him strange for being 'perpetually single' and 'a lone wolf' over the years, and truth be told, he's getting tired of hearing it. Or rather, he doesn't get it. Falling in love isn't all there is to life, right? Aren't friends important, too? Is it really that odd to focus on your friendships the same way everyone else prioritises work, familial and relationship commitments?

Kenma doesn't like to think about it. If anything, it's easier not to think about it. This way, he can just chalk it up to another one of his many apparent oddities, or make a sweeping assumption that that's just how adulthood works.

'Are you listening to me, Kenma?'

Although that must mean that Kuroo is doing adulthood wrong somehow, considering the way he keeps dragging Kenma out for dinner like this at least once a week.

'Kenma? Yoohoo, earth to Kenmaaaaa – '

'Yes,' Kenma says, not looking up from his phone. He didn't hear anything, but he can probably guess what Kuroo was talking about. 'Fusion place. Good reviews. ... Something about eating a live cow.'

Kuroo snorts. 'I said I was hungry enough to eat a horse, but a live cow is close enough. Now, c'mon!' He slings an arm around Kenma's shoulders and propels him to walk faster against his will. Kenma curses Kuroo and his longer legs. 'You like apple pies, don't you? I heard they have some great desserts – '

'Are you kidding me?!'

Random shouts along this street of food stands are hardly uncommon, but there was something about this one that seemed particularly aggressive, perhaps almost confrontational. Kuroo, ever the busybody, cranes his head to look; Kenma, mostly disinterested, just casts a glance back.

'Is this not the correct amount?' the boy asks, bright orange hair sticking out like a sore thumb as he tilts his head. From where they're standing a few feet away, Kenma can sort of make out the shape of the items in the boy's hands: they're grey and weird and bumpy, almost like... like...

'Rocks.' The taiyaki stand owner is practically blue in the face from trying to keep his tone pleasant and his temper in check. 'You're telling me that you want to buy red bean paste – no, not just red bean paste, but an entire barrel of red bean paste – with some rocks? Is that what you're trying to say, boy?'

The boy regards the rocks in his hand for a moment. Adds two more to the pile, and holds them out to the owner again in earnest. 'Perhaps this is better?'

Uh oh. He's going to blow.

'You – !'

'Sir!' Kuroo cuts in. Wait, Kuroo? Kenma does a double-take, glancing between the suddenly vacated space next to him and the fool now standing in front of the taiyaki stand. When did that even happen. 'Sorry about this fellow here, sir – he's just a little jetlagged, y'know? Just came back from abroad and can't tell coins from rocks, haha. We'll be off now~'

Kuroo offers a guileless smile to the owner's murderous glower, quickly spinning the boy around and steering him away from certain death – and towards Kenma instead.

Great, another one of Kuroo's strays. How troublesome.

'Um.' The boy lifts his head to give Kuroo a weird look as they walk, visibly confused by what just happened. 'Hi there. Thanks for your help...?' When he faces forward again and accidentally makes eye contact with Kenma, he perks up.

What.

'Ah!' he shouts. 'It's you!'

What.

The boy breaks out into a full-on sprint, freezing Kenma in place. What what wait what. What the hell did he do. Why is he running this way. What should he do now he's getting closer and closer and closer ohgodhe'ssoclose –

Kenma flinches and squeezes his eyes shut, bracing himself for impact.

...

Nothing seems to be happening. Kenma opens one eye to peek, only to jolt when he realises there's something mere inches away from his face.

The boy is holding out a portable umbrella. Kenma's portable umbrella, to be exact. How did he get a hold of it?

'Hi! I know it's been a few days, but thank you so much for this! You really saved me back there!' he chirps, and wow his cheeriness is just. Dazzling. And here Kenma thought his orange hair was bright enough as it is.

Wait. Orange. A few days. Portable umbrella.

'Ah.' It finally clicks in Kenma's head. 'You're the dead guy from the crater.'

'Y... yes? I suppose?' The crater stranger seems perplexed. Understandably so, since he's clearly not dead. (Or an orange blob, like Kenma assumed he was.) 'Anyways, it's nice to finally meet you!'

'Right. ... Likewise.'

'Wait, hold on.' Kuroo pops up between Kenma and the crater stranger without warning, startling a yelp out of the latter in the process. 'I'm sorry, am I the only one still hung up on the part where you said "DEAD GUY IN THE CRATER"?!'

'Shut up,' Kenma mumbles. It took Kuroo long enough to catch up to them, and now he's giving him a migraine. 'You're too loud. You sound like an old man.'

'Old man?' The crater stranger gives Kuroo that weird look again. It's almost like he can't wrap his head around what Kuroo is supposed to be, or something. 'Is he not a rooster?'

... He was just joking, but okay. Sure. He can roll with that.

'He's both a rooster and an old man,' Kenma corrects, straight-faced. 'A rooster ojisan.'

'Oi.'

'Ah, I see!' The crater stranger nods sagely, not noticing Kuroo's twitching eye. 'Again, thank you for your help earlier, rooster ojisan!' He turns to Kenma. 'And you are?'

'Kozume Kenma,' Kenma says, noticing Kuroo's twitching eye and ignoring him anyway.

'Oi.'

'Kozume Kenma,' he echoes. It doesn't quite roll off the tongue right, an experimental sort of honey, but it's the first time Kenma has ever heard his name spoken with such quiet reverence. 'Kozu... Kozume...'

'"Kenma" is fine.'

What.

As Kenma struggles to properly process the fact that he just said something like that out loud, the crater stranger breaks out in a wide smile. 'Kenma... Kenma. Yes. A lovely name!'

Kenma stares. He's never heard anyone call him 'lovely' in any capacity before, let alone some random person he just met.

'Right.' Kuroo claps them both on the shoulder, eyes curved to half-moons and smile foreboding. Clearly he hasn't taken lightly to being ignored. 'Now that we're vaguely acquainted, who's in the mood for some fusion food?'

Kuroo's smile sharpens; Kenma's stomach drops.

'Kenma's treat~'

Damn it.

.

'An alien,' Kenma repeats, dull as he is incredulous as he stares at the person(?) from across the table. 'So. You're not from this planet.'

Kuroo had already left a while ago since he has morning classes the next day, and despite all his veiled threats from earlier, he still ended up being the one to treat Kenma – partly because it's a force of habit, but mostly because Kenma never remembers to keep extra money on him and Kuroo refuses to let him skimp out on meals.

(Kenma will return the treat another time. Probably. Kuroo will remember that.)

In return, however, Kuroo had stopped Kenma from leaving with him.

'Make sure you apologise to this poor kid for leaving him to die in a crater,' he'd told him in low, too-pleasant tones at the entrance of the restaurant. 'If you run, I will know – and the same goes for finishing the rest of your food, too!'

And so grudgingly, Kenma had stayed. And so now, here they are, with Kenma picking at the crumbs of his apple pie and the crater stranger – Shoyo, he'd said his name was – digging into his meal like the world is going to end.

'Yep! I'm a corvisol.'

'Ah? Cortisol?' He's the physical embodiment of the human stress hormone? Kenma can see how.

'No, no!' Shoyo guffaws, eyes crinkling and cheeks bulging with rice. 'Corvisol, Kenma, corvisol. I may appear human now, but my natural form looks very different – I believe it's physiologically similar to a common species here. Cool, right?'

'Right,' Kenma agrees. 'So how did you end up here?'

'Mm, well... I guess it's kind of a long story?' Shoyo taps his chin. 'But basically I went the wrong way a bunch of times and lost a lot of fuel and the last hyperspace jump totally wrecked my car so I crash-landed and now I can't go back...' When Kenma stays silent, he cheerfully adds, 'But hey, at least I got to meet you and rooster ojisan! Who knew that industrial-grade glue was so expensive around here!'

Kenma doesn't even know where to begin. That hideous yellow spacecraft thing was a car...? And the barrel of red bean paste Shoyo tried to buy was glue...?

'Oh,' Kenma says. And then, just in case all of that was true: 'You probably shouldn't tell other people whatever you just told me. It's not...' He fumbles for words under the weight of Shoyo's stare. 'Uh. Yeah. Just... not a great idea.'

'I see!' Shoyo sets his empty bowl down carefully, taking a moment to mirror the arrangement of Kenma's chopsticks. For an alien, he sure picks up on their customs fast. 'Indeed, I imagine there must be friends and foes on this planet as well, so we must be wary... I haven't made any friends here yet, though.' Here, his smile grows a little hesitant, more hopeful. 'Perhaps Kenma can be a first?'

Right. Befriending an alien would be a first for Kenma, too.

But aside from being a supposed alien, Shoyo doesn't seem all that bad. Sure, he's a little strange sometimes, but that's rich coming from someone who's been called that all his life. It would be incredibly hypocritical of him to judge someone based on a quality he apparently has. Besides, Shoyo returned his umbrella to him in perfect condition – who does that anymore? No one but the purest of souls, that's who.

And this particular pure soul is looking at him with eyes the size of moons, pulling him in like an ocean tide. It's the same inexplicable pull that made him double back to the crater, that spurred him to allow a stranger to call him by his given name –

That Kenma can't bring himself to say 'no' to.

'Sure,' Kenma says finally. 'I don't see why not.'

What could possibly go wrong?

'Really?! You really mean it, Kenma?' Shoyo's entire face lights up with what has to be the intensity of a thousand suns, blinding Kenma for a second or two. 'Yay! You're so kind! My first boyfriend here is the kindest human ever!'

Eh.

'Shoyo, no. ... I mean, I guess "boy friend" is correct if you want to be technical about it, but – no, that's not – '

'It's my first boyfriend! Can you believe it? Kenma and I are boyfriends!'

Oh, well. Kenma sighs, resting his chin on his hand as Shoyo continues to repeat the phrase to anyone within earshot. As long as he's happy, it's fine, really.

.

Kenma doesn't care much for porn.

This sounds like it's coming straight out of left field, but hear him out first: as someone who's been working as a freelance IT guy since high school graduation, Kenma has seen a lot of porn. In fact, Kenma has probably seen more than enough of it to last a lifetime, even though it's never been part of the job description.

In his clients' defence, though, it's largely unintended. While Kenma does offer a sizeable range of technical support services (and other slightly shadier stuff, if you know what you're looking for and ready to pay the right price), most of the job requests he receives involve the removal of malware.

Three guesses as to what caused them in the first place, and the first two don't count.

Anyway, he digresses. Going back to the porn thing, Kenma doesn't like to watch it outside of taking care of his physical needs, nor does he like to judge anyone based on their taste in kinks or how they spend their downtime. Perhaps this is a strange thought to have, but getting off is a perfectly human thing to do. As long as it doesn't involve or result in something undeniably and morally deplorable, he doesn't give a hoot. You do you.

But even so – on days like this, with all the porn-related malware cases coming in one after another and the intense snowfall making his nose all numb and runny and gross, Kenma can't help but feel more drained than usual.

It's a terrible day, no doubt about it. At least he's finally on his way home now.

'Kenma? Kenma, wait up!'

Huh. He knows that voice. Kenma stops walking and turns around, eyes softening at the sight of a bright orange blob barrelling down the street at top speed.

Shoyo.

They've been running into each other a lot since their first – technically second – encounter two months ago, and if there's anything Kenma has learned about Shoyo since then, it's that there's never a quiet moment with him around. He's always so curious and animated and bone-achingly sincere, and despite Kenma's aversion to unpredictability he can't quite keep his eyes off him.

Just like now. Except for different reasons.

'Shoyo,' Kenma warns, raising his voice and backing away in slight alarm. Shoyo has a terrible habit of hug-tackling him whenever they go a few days without seeing each other, and at the rate he's running Kenma fears he'll be body-slammed into next week. 'Shoyo – Shoyo, you have to slow down – !'

'Kenma!'

BANG! Splash! ... thud.

Ah, Kenma thinks faintly just before his vision fades to black. It really is a terrible day, after all.

.

The next time Kenma opens his eyes, he sees a familiar ceiling. Familiar, but not his own.

Kenma sits up groggily, propping himself up on one elbow to take in his surroundings. He's in a 1K apartment with a similar layout to the one he owns, yet it's not quite the same. For one, the bed he's in is much larger, positioned to face a different corner of the room; for two, he definitely doesn't have two large stacks of textbooks piled up on the nightstand, ranging from business law to the fundamentals of macronutrient analyses.

Oh. There's a torn-out piece of notebook paper taped to one of the book spines.

'Feel free to eat the porridge I prepared for you – it should be cooled by the time you read this. I know you haven't been eating properly (seriously, would it kill you to eat something other than conbini food when I'm not around?!), so don't complain about the ingredients or the taste, okay? Just eat~

—Tetsurou

P.S. I can't believe you got yourself an alien boyfriend and didn't think to tell me... (´；ω；｀) how heartbreaking... (´；ω；｀) Please remember to invite me to the wedding~'

... Alien? Wedding? How hard did Kuroo hit his head, and how did he wind up at Kuroo's – and Tsukishima's – place?

'Ah!' Shoyo appears in the kitchen doorway. 'Kenma! You're finally awake!'

Oh dear god.

Kenma can't help but stiffen instinctively as Shoyo hurries over to him. He's a little slower in his movements than before, but still – how many times has this sort of thing happened already? This is really starting to get old –

Shoyo stops short and falls to his knees, prostrating himself by the bedside.

What.

'Shoyo?! What are you doing?'

Shoyo doesn't lift his head. 'I was told that if I did this long enough there would be a very slim chance of earning your forgiveness, of which I humbly do not deserve.'

Kuroo.

'Shoyo, it's fine. I'm still alive, see?' Shoyo refuses to budge. Kenma damns Kuroo to eternal hell. 'Shoyo, come on.' He pats the spot next to him on the bed. 'I'll forgive you if you come over and tell me what happened.'

That does the trick – Shoyo lets out a loud wail, leaning over to envelop Kenma in his arms before he even hits the bed. 'I'm really, really sorry! I just – you lost your balance when I hugged you and we all went sploosh into the big bird-bath and you didn't wake up no matter what I did so I got really scared and carried you back to rooster ojisan's home – '

'Wait.' Okay, it's all starting to come together: Kenma wasn't feeling that great to begin with, so getting soaked in the fountain after Shoyo's rugby-esque tackle – in the middle of winter, no less – caused him to pass out. Everything makes sense so far, except...

'You – you carried me?'

'...? Yes, I did? I carried you like this.' Shoyo – physically tiny but improbably eons-old Shoyo – promptly scoops Kenma off the bed and into his lap, half-supporting Kenma's weight with his arms, bridal style. 'You're very light, no?'

Kenma buries his face in his hands. He was carried like this from the park all the way to the apartment building? In the flashiest way imaginable? He's getting second-hand anxiety just thinking about it. God. This has to be a nightmare.

Wait.

'How did you even know where to find Kuro – I mean, uh, rooster ojisan?'

'Oh! I just tracked his emotional signature. I don't think I've ever showed you before, but...' Shoyo furrows his brows in concentration, only relaxing when a small tuft of his hair in the front catches fire. '...there we go! Rooster ojisan's emo-sig has this unique mix of worry and pride and responsibility that he carries around a lot, so it was easy to find him.'

Kenma sits up in Shoyo's lap, curiosity piqued. Shoyo had explained this 'emotional signature' thing to him a while ago when they were talking about his home planet, and from what Kenma can remember, Shoyo comes from another galaxy's sun, so he's able to store large amounts of its energy within his body. He can also apparently channel that solar energy into fires that detect or analyse the quality of 'emotional signatures'...? Or something to that effect. Kenma got lost after Shoyo went on about core emo-sigs and state emo-sigs and stability over time, to be honest.

... Huh. So the flame isn't actually a hologram like he thought it was. Now that Kenma is looking at it up close, he can feel the occasional ghost of heat brushing against his forehead, warm but not scalding. Can pick out the glittering shades of molten-gold in every flicker, casting an ethereal, sun-over-the-horizon glow over his orange bangs.

'Doesn't it hurt?' Kenma murmurs.

'Hm?'

'The fire. The possibility of pain.'

Shoyo tilts his head. 'Not really? It doesn't burn me, so no, it doesn't hurt. And even if it did, the good it can do outweighs the bad, no?' Then, he beams. 'That's a really good question, though! As expected of Kenma! Rooster ojisan just started yelling a lot, I didn't really understand why.'

'Yelled a lot? ... Was your hair like this when you found him?'

'Indeed, it was! How did you know?'

Ah. Kenma deadpans. To be fair to Kuroo, he would probably yell a lot too if a boy almost half his size suddenly showed up at his doorstep with his hair on fire and a childhood friend wet and unconscious in his arms. Shoyo was probably hysterical, too, further adding to the chaos. So even if Kuroo didn't know about Shoyo being an alien before... he certainly... does... now...

'Kenma? Kenma, are you alright?'

'No.' Kenma allows his head to fall against Shoyo's shoulder, dizziness suddenly slamming back into him with the force of a bullet train. He hates being sick. 'And it's not your fault.'

'I know,' Shoyo says softly. 'You forgive me, after all.' With slow, careful movements, he inches Kenma off his lap and back onto the bed. Kenma drifts in and out of focus, only vaguely noticing when something cool is smoothed over his forehead. 'Rooster ojisan said this might happen before he left to attend classes. Get some rest, yes?'

Kenma closes his eyes. That porridge Kuroo made will have to wait till later, he supposes.

.

The house is quiet. Too quiet.

'I sent the kid out to buy some stuff from the conbini.' Kenma turns to look without lifting his head from the pillow. Tsukishima is sitting cross-legged by the low dining table, eyes glued to his laptop screen. He must've returned while Kenma was asleep. 'His restless pacing was grating on my nerves.'

'I see. ... Kuro's still in school?'

'He texted earlier saying he's on his way back.' Here, the corner of Tsukishima's mouth lifts, the barest hint of a smirk. 'Tetsurou thinks he caught your cold since he's been sneezing nonstop all day. I told him it's probably because you've been shit-talking about him.'

Kenma moves his shoulders in a barely-there shrug, but his half-smile tells Tsukishima all he needs to know.

'Hah. I can't say he doesn't deserve it.' And then: 'Are you hungry, Kenma-san?'

When Kenma sits up in bed, Tsukishima takes it as a yes, padding into the kitchen with a regal sort of ease. It doesn't take long for him to reheat the porridge and pass a bowl off to Kenma; with that, the house is quiet again.

For as long as he's known Tsukishima, it's always been like this: straightforward, efficient, and a mutual understanding that Kuroo is a bastard. (Their bastard, but still.) Kuroo is usually there to bring out the best in Tsukishima through all their bickering and flirting, but when It's just the two of them sometimes Kenma can't help remembering the Tsukishima from their high school days: distant and bitter and full of self-loathing. It's funny what love can do to change a person.

But that's what's normal, isn't it. Love.

Kenma picks at the scallions in his porridge, appetite waning. He hates being sick. It always leaves him feeling tired and miserable and small, and this silence, normally so comfortable and lulling, isn't helping in the least, making him dwell on things he'd rather not think about – instead reaffirming that he'll always be the strange boy, in more ways than one.

Honestly, how are there people out there believing Kuroo's and Tsukishima's relationship to be weird and disgusting when there's someone like him, who barely has the capacity for romantic intimacy in the first place? Isn't he just the worst? What right does he have to impose on a home for two just because of a little sickness like this?

No right at all, no. Kenma can't stay here. He can take care of himself.

'Kenma-san...? If you want another bowl of porridge, I can get it for you.' When Kenma keeps shuffling past him, unsteady but resolute, Tsukishima rises to his feet. 'Where are you going?'

'Home.'

'Home?' Tsukishima appears at his side in an instant. 'Out of the question, Kenma-san. You're hardly in any condition to go home like this.' He touches Kenma's forehead. 'You're still running a bit of a fever, too.'

'I'm going home,' Kenma insists. He brushes Tsukishima's hand aside and staggers towards the entryway, pushing through Tsukishima's attempts to stop him. The longer he stays in this house, the more details he sees – Kuroo's sports jacket hanging off Tsukishima's frame, the matching mugs on the low dining table, Tsukishima's silver promise ring – and Kenma doesn't want to feel like this anymore, whatever this may be. He doesn't want to make his friends feel bad.

He doesn't belong here.

'Kenma!'

The door swings open, causing Kenma to lose his balance. He pitches forward headfirst, but the fall doesn't hurt; he doesn't have to look up to know who has caught him.

'Shoyo,' Kenma mumbles, keeping his head down to hide his face. As much as he's reluctant to admit it, Shoyo's presence has always been calming. It's just something about him – something about the sound of his heartbeat, the warm flame in his hair, and the way his arms settle around him, like a moonlit lullaby calling him home.

'Shoyo,' he says again, calmer this time. 'I'm going back.'

'Eh? But that's – you're still – '

'It should be fine if the pipsqueak takes him,' Kuroo says from somewhere behind them. Did he run into Shoyo somewhere and come back with him? Kenma wouldn't be surprised if he did. 'Oh, don't give me that look, Kei. You and I both know we can't stop Kenma once he's made up his mind.'

'Shut up. Also, you're half an hour late.'

'Aw, you actually kept track? I missed you too~'

'Ugh – Jesus, Tetsurou, you've definitely gained weight – !'

'Oh? So you know how heavy I was before, hm?'

'Um, sorry to interrupt,' Shoyo begins, pausing to allow them to regain their bearings. He's polite as ever, even in a semi-pressing situation. 'Yes. Perhaps one of you can enlighten me: where is Kenma's personal nest-home?'

.

'God. When will it end.'

This is embarrassing. This is so embarrassing. If Kenma plants his face against Shoyo's back firmly enough, will he pass out from the lack of oxygen and forget that Shoyo ever insisted on carrying him home – without the luck of him being unconscious this time?

'We're almost there, so it's definitely ending soon!' Shoyo chimes, oblivious to Kenma's inner turmoil. He unlocks the door with ease while carrying Kenma piggyback – a miraculous show of strength, truly, Kenma could never – before stepping inside to toe off his shoes. 'Sorry for the intrusion... Also, I had no idea you lived one floor above rooster ojisan! That's impressive! But the nest-home next to his is empty, right? That seems... ah, what's the word? Curious?'

Strange.

It's on the tip of his tongue, familiar and bitter, but Kenma refuses to say it. He barely managed to stop an old wound from bleeding earlier; there's no way he's picking at it again so soon.

Instead, Kenma begins to pick at a stray thread on the collar of Shoyo's coat. 'Mm, well. Kuro – rooster ojisan and I have known each other for a long time. It's unfortunate, but we've been neighbours since we were young. When he and Tsukishima started dating in high school, Tsukishima often stayed over at his house. Which is fine in itself, but at night they tend to be. Loud.'

'Loud?'

'Loud,' Kenma confirms, a grim set to his jaw. 'Let's just say that the walls are thinner than you think. ... Anyway, when I moved out after high school, Ku – rooster ojisan and Tsukishima followed suit. It was too much of a hassle to look for a different apartment complex, but I didn't want to be living next door to them for another fifty years, so. Yeah.'

'I... see.' Shoyo blinks, clearly still confused, but it's for the best, really. Kenma would rather be carried a dozen times than to speak any further on the matter. After setting Kenma down on the bed, Shoyo touches his forehead, much like Tsukishima probably did several times before him; it's almost startling how much Shoyo can pick up just by observing. 'You're still a bit warm.'

'You're the warm one,' Kenma mutters, but for some reason he can't bring himself to pull away. It's likely just the fever. 'All that solar energy has turned you into a walking hot-water bottle.'

'Ah! That's true! Since that's the case, you can just call me whenever you feel cold, yes? Your very own hot-water bottle! Hm? No?' When Kenma continues to shake his head, Shoyo's smile softens. 'Oh, Kenma... Kenma, you're just... so cool, you know? You're so nice and patient and no matter how many times I mess up, you don't get mad. Even when you have every right to be mad at me for making you sick, you still forgive me. Kenma really is amazing, all by himself!

'But I have to say...' Shoyo tucks a stray lock of hair behind Kenma's ear and lingers there. 'It's okay to rely on me when you can, yes? It's okay to rely on others, too, because I'm sure rooster ojisan and, um – Keisuke? Is that his name? – feel the same way. It's okay.'

Shoyo's words are not groundbreaking. Kenma has heard it all before – he's heard it repeated so many times from so many people, and he understands where everyone is coming from. He knows they mean well, but there's always been a part of Kenma that refuses to believe it. What if he lets go and everyone else is too busy with their other commitments to break his fall? The one who gets hurt the most, the one who may not be able to get back up again – wouldn't that be him?

And yet.

'It's Tsukishima Kei, not Keisuke.' Kenma closes his eyes, leaning into the afterglow of Shoyo's warm palm. 'Pick his family name or his given name, don't combine the two together.'

Even if Kenma doesn't believe in empty words, he wants to believe in him.

.

Despite his seemingly frail looks and atrocious dietary habits, Kenma rarely ever falls sick.

It's one of his few good traits, if he does say so himself. He can count on one hand the number of times he's caught a cold since his middle school days, and Kuroo used to joke about how he was blessed with the health of the gods but cursed with the emoting capabilities of a gnat – 'just to keep things balanced,' or so he claimed.

Kenma doesn't know how true that is. All he knows is that when he gets sick, he gets sick – so it's not at all surprising that his fever takes a while to break. Five days, to be exact.

'Kenma?' Shoyo pops his head out, having just returned from his trip to the supermarket. Upon spotting Kenma, he brightens, stepping through the sliding door and closing it behind him. 'So you were here. I know you really like this corner of the balcony, but you've only just recovered! Maybe it's better if you come inside?'

'It's fine. The cold goes well with a night like this.'

'Well, it's a good thing that I brought this along, then!' As Shoyo says this, Kenma feels something soft drape itself over his shoulders. Shoyo's coat. It's times like these that Kenma wonders why he's wearing one when he technically doesn't have to, what with his naturally high body temperature and all. 'How are you feeling now?'

'You can't tell from your emo-sig?' That's rather odd, especially since that's how Shoyo realised that Kenma was in distress five days ago. According to Kuroo, the two of them had bumped into each other at the convenience store and were having a light conversation when Shoyo suddenly trailed off, staring off into space and his hair catching fire. Then, he just took off without warning and left Kuroo to scramble after him.

'No, no! Of course I can! But I don't want to rely on it too much, in a sense...?' Shoyo scratches at his cheek absently. 'I mean, when you're interacting with someone, you'd want to understand them through their words and actions, right? You wouldn't want to assume things based on how they feel alone. I wouldn't want to, since there's always a reason why you feel the way you do.'

Hm. How noble.

'But still, I'm curious.' Kenma grips the railing with both hands and tilts his head back to regard Shoyo with raised eyebrows. 'How am I feeling then?'

'Oh, you mean, like, right now? Now, you feel...' Shoyo's bangs flicker with a familiar flame as he leans in, his expression oddly serious. This whole conversation has been oddly serious, really, and it's making Kenma's heart pound in his ears. 'You feel... amused. And anxious, but that seems to be more of an underlying trait emo-sig to me. And...'

'And?'

'You're definitely feeling a lot better.' Shoyo laughs and gives Kenma a playful flick to the forehead, dissipating the tension in an instant; Kenma startles, only just now realising how close he is to Shoyo's face. As Kenma pulls back with an embarrassed sulk, Shoyo continues, 'I'm glad, I'm glad! Now that you're healthy again, I'll have to return to my current nest-home soon.'

What?

Kenma stares. His throat feels awfully tight all of a sudden. 'Home?'

'Yes, home!' Shoyo pauses. 'Wait, am I using the wrong term...? I'm talking about my car. Do you remember my car? The one I wrecked and crash-landed in the park? That's my nest-home for now.'

'Ah. The crater. ... You've been living in the crater this whole time?!'

God, Kenma knows that the police force in their neighbourhood can be a little slow on the uptake, but to think that they didn't even notice a crater of that size for over two months...

'...? I mean, yes? I managed to source for more industrial-grade glue to fix the broken engine oil filter, but I've never been good at repairs so it's taking me some time to figure out across-planet compatibility of earth items for the nuclear pressure regulator, which is really tricky since it has this thermal-charger component that – ' Shoyo finally notices the blank look on Kenma's face. 'Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry! Basically my car is still busted and I'm looking for this planet's equivalent parts to replace them.'

Right. Overly convoluted initial explanation aside, that does make sense. Kenma had seen the damage to that spacecraft thing first-hand; it was in such bad shape that he's surprised to learn that it's repairable at all. Even so...

'Why stay in the crater?'

'Well, I don't really have anywhere else to go.' Shoyo shrugs. 'Besides, no one really passes through that part of the park' – Kenma can agree on that, that shortcut is truly underrated – 'and even if someone does pass by, I'm extra careful about not letting them see me. Which is why I sleep in my natural form!'

What.

Before Kenma can even reply, Shoyo disappears in a flash of blinding light, causing various layers of winter clothing to drop to the ground in an unceremonious heap. A rush of panic wells up in Kenma's chest – ohgodwhatjusthappenedwheredidShoyogoisheokay – until he notices a small lump moving around under Shoyo's clothes.

...

'So this is what you meant when you said that you look similar to a common species here,' Kenma comments, kneeling down as carefully as he can so as to not disturb the pile of fabric. 'Although I must say... that may be a bit of an overstatement.'

Shoyo – now in the form of a crow – lets out a quiet caw. He looks very pleased with himself, but Kenma doesn't mean it as a compliment. While large-billed crows are indeed fairly common in the country, a crow like Shoyo, with hints of molten-gold on his chest and a too-intelligent glint to his beady eyes, is distinctive in his own right. Too distinctive, even.

As if sensing his concern, Shoyo pushes his clothes out of the way with his beak and hops over to Kenma. With another quiet caw, he bumps his head against Kenma's hand, closing his eyes.

Kenma knows that he means well, but this gesture only gives him more reason to worry. 'You're so small,' he murmurs, touching Shoyo's cheek with the tip of his finger. 'That's no good at all.'

As he is now, Shoyo is much smaller than the average crow – even someone like Kenma could probably carry him with no problem. If Shoyo leaves now, how long can such a small creature be safe on his own? What if some wildlife researcher or exotic pet seller caught wind of Shoyo's unusual appearance and decided to capture him? Would he be able to fend himself properly? Would Kenma ever see him again?

'It can't be helped,' Kenma decides. It's not like he wants to get himself involved in something as troublesome as this, but he might as well do it – if only for his own peace of mind.

'I'll just have to house you.'

Huh. Kenma never knew a bird could look so perplexed.

.

They say that you don't truly get to know a person until you've shared a home with them.

Kenma hadn't known of such a saying until a teammate brought it up at one of their annual catch-ups, and the rest of the table had chorused in unanimous agreement. (Even Kuroo had nodded with a smirk, at least until Tsukishima – his plus one – had given him a sharp pinch between the ribs.) While Kenma hadn't understood it at the time, it's starting to make a lot more sense now.

Having lived together in the same apartment and established a routine of sorts over the past six months, Kenma has come to learn five things about Shoyo that he wouldn't have known otherwise.

One: Shoyo has other things to fix besides his wrecked car.

'Oh, god, he left it out on the table again,' is all Kenma can say upon entering the main room, trying his best not to make direct eye contact with the... contraption on his computer desk. Shoyo said that it was a communication device, but Kenma doesn't know what to make of it. It looks like a phone, a laptop and a tablet all at once, and seems to be sprouting out of a square base that makes him lose ten years off his lifespan every time he sees it – no thanks to its uncanny resemblance to a condom wrapper.

Of all the things to resemble, though. God. It's a miracle that Kenma hasn't thrown it out yet – even on accident – considering it looks exactly like a condom wrapper when it's in pocket-sized mode.

... Hm. Judging from the strange items scattered on the desk, it's still a work in progress. While the car has been fully functional for a while now, its protocol doesn't allow it to hyperspace jump without the coordinates of Shoyo's home planet – which are all saved on his communication device. The only thing he's managed to fix so far is the device's transmitter.

'It's still better than nothing!' Shoyo had reasoned. 'At least now I can use it to send solar pulses back home. It'll have my energy signature, so they'll know I'm all good out here!'

That's what he says, at least, but Shoyo does go out a lot regardless. There are days where he'll leave early in the morning in search of replacement parts and return late at night with new components to tinker with, but Kenma doesn't really mind as long as he's given a heads-up first. If it's at an ungodly hour of the morning, Kenma will always wake up to a small note next to his phone.

But on days like this, when even the slightest breeze is a welcome respite in the harsh blaze of summer, there's no note for Kenma – and Shoyo's shoes are still lined up neatly in the entryway.

And yet, all the rooms he's checked so far are empty.

Two: If Shoyo is nowhere to be found and he didn't say anything about going out beforehand, there's only one place he can be.

Ah, there he is. He's sitting cross-legged on the balcony floor again, even though Kenma had gotten him a fluffy doormat specifically for this purpose. With his eyes closed and a gentle curve to his lips, it's clear that the balcony is no longer just Kenma's favourite haunt, but Shoyo's, too.

Kenma slides the door shut behind him, quiet, careful. Shoyo hasn't noticed his presence yet.

'Hey,' he says.

Shoyo opens his eyes. Tilts his head back to look at him, eyes glowing and smile dazzling.

'Hey,' Shoyo says. 'Welcome home.'

Kenma crouches down to his level. Just as he'd suspected, the unearthly glow to Shoyo's gaze isn't just a trick of the light, but a sign that he's activated his ability; it's slowly fading back to his normal eye colour as they speak.

Three: Sunlight is another source of food for Shoyo; he's basically a plant in that regard.

'Taking in sunlight? Even after inhaling that huge bowl of rice at Kuro's this morning?' Kenma shakes his head, one part teasing, two parts disbelief. How did Shoyo manage to survive on sunlight alone when he was living in his car for two months?

'Aw, come on! I just wanted a taste,' Shoyo laughs, stretching his legs out and wiggling his toes. He takes Kenma by the wrists and tugs, catching him easily when he stumbles into his lap.

Four: Shoyo is extremely tactile and affectionate, but especially so with Kenma.

'Are you done with work for the day?'

'Yeah.' Kenma squirms, trying to find a more comfortable position between the tangle of their limbs. Honestly, being cuddled like this makes him feel like a too-loved stuffed animal; while it doesn't bother him as much as it used to, it can still pose some problems.

Just like now.

'Shoyo, get off.'

'Eh? Why?'

'It's way too hot for this.' The arms around his waist squeeze a little tighter in protest. 'Shoyo.'

'Do I really have to?' Shoyo mumbles, his voice close to a whine and his breath tickling Kenma's ear. 'It seems to be hot every day for you now! I miss the bone-chill season.'

Kenma's face feels hot now. God. Why did he have to remind him. Now he has to relive the tragedy of not thinking through the fact that he didn't own a spare futon – he'd never needed one, since he never had guests stay over before – and had to share the bed with Shoyo for a brief period of time.

(Long story short, let's just say that Kenma never realised how clingy he was to a heat source on cold winter nights until Shoyo came along.)

'Mm, well.' Kenma looks down, taking comfort in the way his hair is spilling forward to hide his red face. 'I can't play Resident Nefarious: Biohazard on my laptop like this, you know.' At Shoyo's crestfallen look, he adds, 'But if we go back inside and fix the fan in our direction, I think it should be fine.'

As Shoyo cheers and rushes back into the apartment, thereby releasing Kenma from stuffed animal hell, Kenma remains seated on the balcony floor.

He's doing it again. Compromising, despite his rational side telling him otherwise.

Five: Towards Shoyo, Kenma...

There are a million reasons why Kenma shouldn't get used to this. This was supposed to be a temporary arrangement, even if it has been dragging on a little longer than expected. And the longer that Shoyo stays, the more likely he is to uncover the things that Kenma has long since buried in the graveyard of his heart – to realise that Kenma really is as strange as they say.

But being with Shoyo makes Kenma fall a little deeper every day. He makes Kenma feel safe, giving his world a pop of colour with one hand and a sense of stability with the other, and he's become someone far more precious than Kenma's heart can bear.

'Aren't you coming?' Shoyo calls from the sliding door. He extends his hand, waiting, and Kenma takes it without a second thought.

He would go anywhere with him.

.

By the time winter rolls around once more, Kenma comes to realise two things. The first is that talks of Shoyo's eventual departure have taken a backseat in their everyday lives; Kenma can't remember the last time either of them brought up the progress made on Shoyo's communication device, or any plans related to leaving for his home planet.

The second is that slowly, surely, the nature of their relationship has changed.

Much like last year, they're huddled together in bed – even though Shoyo technically has his own futon now. Unlike last year, however, it's... different. More intimate. Kenma doesn't know how to describe it.

'Sh… Shoyo...' Kenma's breath catches in his throat as Shoyo leaves kisses down the line of his jaw. He's been doing that a lot recently – forehead, cheeks, the dips of his collarbones – but today his hands are wandering a lot more than usual, skating down his sides to toy with the hem of his shirt.

His touch is so warm.

'Shoyo...'

'Hm?' Shoyo brings one hand up to cup Kenma's cheek, leaving the other to return to Kenma's hip and trace languid circles with his thumb. 'What is it?'

Everything. Nothing. Kenma makes a small, tinny noise and lets his head fall against Shoyo's shoulder. This isn't the first time they're kissing and touching each other – and Shoyo has always, always been gentle with him – and yet somehow this is the most overwhelmed he's been since his high school team lost at the nationals. His heart feels like it's ready to explode.

Shoyo rolls over to lay on his back, taking Kenma with him; Kenma doesn't quite know what to do with his hands, instead grasping loose fistfuls of Shoyo's shirt. With their foreheads touching and Shoyo's fingers tangled in his hair, Kenma finds himself transfixed by the sheer adoration reflected in his gaze.

Their next kiss is a glimpse into the unknown, intoxicating and all-consuming.

'Your face is so red,' Shoyo laughs as he pulls away, breathless. He tilts Kenma's head back, gently nibbling and sucking at the base of his neck, and Kenma trembles under the onslaught. Through the haze of pleasure clouding over his better judgement, Kenma vaguely notices the weight of Shoyo's arousal against his own, wanting and straining and aching to be touched –

And Kenma can't help freezing in place.

No.

Shoyo's hands slide under the back of his shirt, but he's coming back to his senses and the fear is starting to set in, extending its claws around the hollow of his heart. He can't imagine touching Shoyo in any capacity, no, he can't imagine being touched. He can't do this.

'Kenma?'

The repulsion and nausea crashes over him in waves, drowning him in self-loathing. He's been doing so well. He's been so normal until now. What's wrong with him, ruining the mood like this? Why can't he see things through to the end? He wants to make Shoyo feel good. He doesn't want to disappoint him.

He doesn't want to lose him.

'Hey.' Shoyo sits up. As Kenma scoots away and kneels between his legs, he cradles Kenma's face in both hands, angling his body away such that he's not touching him anywhere else. Dimly Kenma notes that there's no fire alight in his hair – he's just looking straight at him. 'Hey. Talk to me, Kenma. Please?'

'I just – ' Kenma falters. Tries again. 'I'm not – I can't do this. I thought I could do it, I thought that if it was you – because it was you – I thought it would be fine. But I was wrong. I'm sorry. At first it was fine and it felt good. It was great. But I can't go on after all and it's not your fault, I'm the one who can't do it, I'm sorry – '

'Hey, hey, hey – shh, it's okay, Kenma. You're okay.' He doesn't realise he's shaking until Shoyo draws him in for a hug. He takes in deep breaths, one after another after another, trying to focus on the hushed quality to Shoyo's voice and the gentle, rhythmic patting against his back.

It's not like him to act like this. Kenma has always prided himself on his practical reasoning and self-control, on being able to separate his emotions from a situation and remaining indifferent no matter what comes his way, and yet here he is, clinging to Shoyo like a dying man to a lifeline.

'I'm really sorry,' Kenma mutters. He hates that he sounds so weak. 'I know that I'm weird.'

Shoyo pulls away just enough for him to peer at Kenma with a baffled look.

'What's wrong with being weird?'

Kenma stares, inner turmoil fading to the background in his state of confusion. Being weird is... weird, right? What kind of question is that?

'It's not a reprehensible thing to be on this planet, is it? Or an act to be persecuted for?' When Kenma shakes his head, slow and hesitant, Shoyo asks again, 'Does being weird hurt others, then?'

'I'm hurting you,' Kenma points out quietly. He allows his eyes to flitter over the general direction of Shoyo's boxers for a brief moment, then averts his gaze.

'...? You're not hurting me. It felt good for you, yes? It was the same for me – you made me feel really good. And you always do!' Shoyo leans in and brushes his lips against his forehead, and it's far more tender than Kenma deserves. 'From what I can tell, it's perfectly okay to be weird, yes? Kenma is Kenma, and nothing will change that – nor will it change how I feel about you.'

In that moment, Kenma exhales a breath he didn't know he was holding. Closes his eyes, and lays his final piece of armour to rest.

He has always been told that he is strange. Those who know him would tell him to ignore the rumours and jokes at his expense; those who really know him would be quick to reassure him that he's not weird at all, it's just that others don't understand.

But then there's Shoyo. Shoyo, who has wormed his way past all his defences and straight into the heart of the matter, is the only one to take him by the hand and say that no, there's nothing inherently wrong with being weird. That it's okay to not be okay with romantic intimacy, that it's okay to be him.

'Kenma? Are you still – woah!'

'Are you sure you're from a completely different galaxy?' Kenma mumbles against Shoyo's hair, having tackled him to the bed and settled into the crook of his arms. There's a slightly uncomfortable sensation between their legs since neither of them have calmed down yet, but Kenma doesn't let it bother him. (If it bothers Shoyo, he doesn't let it show.)

'You seem pretty human to me.'

Shoyo just grins.

.

All things considered, Shoyo should probably get a job soon.

Kenma is picking up some pre-packed lunches at the supermarket when this thought occurs to him. It's been a little over a year since he first met Shoyo, and while Kenma may have enough savings to support them both thanks to his frugal lifestyle, Shoyo's ravenous appetite for human food is starting to become a bit of a drain to Kenma's – and occasionally Kuroo's – expenses in the long run. (Tsukishima can afford to support all of them combined, probably, but still.)

Well. It shouldn't be too much of a hassle, Kenma thinks idly as he makes his way up the stairs to his apartment floor. He knows a guy who knows a guy who can get identification documents for Shoyo, and that guy knows a guy who can get a high school graduation certificate should Shoyo need it. They all sort of owe him for previous job requests, anyway, so it's about time to ask them about repayment.

Oh. Shoyo is waiting for him at the door.

'Kenma!' Upon noticing his approach, Shoyo is quick to help Kenma to carry the grocery bags and clasps their hands together in earnest. 'It works!'

'It works?'

'It works!' Shoyo repeats. He doesn't let go of Kenma's hand even as they head inside the house. 'I finally managed to find a better replacement for that wiring component – I mean, the previous one that I found was suitable, I guess, but the connection wasn't stable so the output kept coming out all wonky – so now that it's up and running I can finally talk to my folks back home – '

'That's great – '

' – and I'd like you to be there with me.'

'Oh. Well.' Kenma blinks. That... wasn't what he expected, but he doesn't see why not. 'Sure.'

Shoyo beams, giving Kenma a little kiss on the cheek. 'Oh! Right, I almost forgot – you won't be able to follow our conversations without this. Hold on.' He releases Kenma's hand for a moment to concentrate on setting his hair aflame, before reaching up to pinch the fire between his index finger and his thumb. Then, with the precision of an experienced surgeon, he brings his hand down to touch Kenma's earlobes the same way, one after the other.

'There we go. Your ears might feel unsettlingly warm at first, but as long as your ears retain that warmth it should be fine. Now, come on!'

... Huh. Kenma touches his earlobes gingerly. It didn't hurt at all.

.

The setup at the computer desk looks impressive at first glance. It finally has a second gaming chair, which Kenma had gotten for Shoyo a while back, and the communication device actually look like legitimate alien technology now that it's fixed. (It's just a shame that he'll never be able to unsee that square base as anything other than a condom wrapper for the rest of his life.)

Shoyo has already started the call, so all Kenma can do is sit down and wait.

Click.

'Heh?' There's someone peering at them through the screen now. They're clearly younger than Shoyo, perhaps a first-year in middle school in human years, but their hair is the same shade of bright orange as him. 'Shoyo-nii? That's you, yes?'

They even have the same speech patterns, Kenma observes. It's such a fascinating experience to be able to understand everything they're saying without recognising a single word. Is this how Shoyo has been talking to everyone this whole time? He'd never even thought about it before.

'Natsu!' Shoyo exclaims. He shakes Kenma by the shoulders. 'Kenma, it's Natsu! Can you see her? It's my little sister!'

'Yes, yes.' So it's his little sister. They really do look alike.

'Indeed, Natsu, it's me – it's great to see you! How have you been? How long have I been gone? Did you find the jelly-dragon? Where's everyone else?'

'I've been good! You've been gone for... about a week?' Natsu glances at something off to the side, then nods. 'Yep, a week and three days. I did find it at the corner-cradle, just like you said it'd be! Mama is at the sunflare field; Papa is at a meeting. Tobio-nii is – '

Kenma barely has the time to process all that information when something loud crashes off-screen – and someone new pops up. Unlike Shoyo and Natsu, this new person has ink-black hair and a deep scowl marring their good looks.

'OI, SHIT-FOR-BRAINS. NATSU CONTACTED ME – SO YOU'RE FINALLY CALLING BACK, HUH? YOU IDIOT! WHAT KIND OF IDIOT GETS LOST GOING TO THE NEIGHBOURING PLANET'S MARKET? YOU'RE SUCH AN IDIOT!'

Wow. They don't seem to have an indoor voice. Or any other insults besides 'idiot', for that matter.

'SHUT UP, TOBIO! YOU'RE ONE TO TALK WHEN YOU ONLY LEARNED HOW TO DRIVE A CAR AFTER I DID!'

Apparently Shoyo doesn't have an indoor voice when it comes to this person – Tobio? – either.

'AT LEAST I KNOW MY DIRECTIONS, DUMBASS!' Their eyes flick over to Kenma. 'AND WHO IS THIS?'

Uh.

Shoyo pauses when he catches Kenma's eye, all tension leaving his body in an instant. 'Sorry about this,' he murmurs, sheepish. 'Tobio's my childhood friend. He can be a real handful sometimes.' Turning back to the screen, he raises his voice and says, 'Right, about that. Natsu, Tobio, I'd like you to meet Kenma – he's my heart-mate.'

Uh.

'HEART-MATE?!' Natsu and Tobio shout.

'That's so sweet! Congrats, Shoyo-nii!'

'WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN? HAVE YOU TWO EVEN COMPLETED THE NIGHTLY CARNAL EVENT?!'

Shoyo and Kenma make similarly strangled noises, but for two different reasons.

'Hey! Don't talk about that when Natsu is here!' Shoyo barks. He's scratching at his cheek, but Kenma can see how flushed his face is behind his palm. 'Also, what are you talking about? Of course we have, stupid Tobio.'

'WHY YOU LITTLE – !'

Kenma buries his face in his hands. He can't even speak up about it since Shoyo's not wrong – they've been negotiating boundaries and working within Kenma's limits since their first time three months ago. Even so, it's really embarrassing to think about – especially with the memory of friction between fabric and the collision of stars still fresh in his mind.

'Tobio-nii.' Natsu's voice slices into the argument like a sword through the throat, and it silences not just Tobio, but Shoyo, too. After regarding the two of them with a warning look and receiving guilty, shifty-eyed expressions in turn, she turns to Kenma with a bright, angelic smile.

'My, my. It's very nice to meet you, Kenma! We have a lot to talk about, don't we?'

And talk, they did. It's a surprisingly peaceful conversation, albeit discomfiting at times due to Natsu's unending curiosity and Tobio's naturally abrasive manner of speech, but Kenma would take this over the full-blown interrogation he'd initially braced himself for any day.

If anything, their intense grilling has led Kenma to conclude that having a heart-mate is actually a pretty big deal on their planet. At first he thought it was just a label to their relationship based on how Shoyo talked about it, but with Natsu looking ready to cry and Tobio giving a best man's speech like there's no tomorrow, Kenma can't help but marvel at the sheer weight that the word seems to hold – at the fact that Shoyo chose someone like him to be his heart-mate.

No. Kenma furrows his brow. He can't keep thinking like this.

Shoyo sees Kenma as his heart-mate for a reason. It's the same reason why he's decided to stay after all this time, and the same reason why Kenma finds the most mundane things about Shoyo endearing, from the untameable cowlicks in his hair to the way he always struggles to toast bread without burning it.

' – but y'know, whatever. Whatever makes you happy, shit-for-brains.' Tobio still sounds a bit gruff, but he's smiling faintly for the first time since the call started and Kenma has his fingers laced with Shoyo's under the desk, so it's a small matter in the grand scheme of things, really.

'Anyway, congrats. Come back sometime, yeah?'

.

'Is it just me, or are you not as prickly as you used to be?'

'What's that supposed to mean,' Kenma says, not looking up from his phone and pointedly not returning the stare Kuroo is levelling at him from across the table.

It's rare for the two of them to have lunch together these days, but it's even rarer for them to do so when the new spring semester has already started. Tsukishima, for one, has been taking his classes so seriously that Kenma is convinced he hasn't seen him in weeks.

'See? That.' Kuroo gestures vaguely in Kenma's direction. 'Normally this is where you'd make some sort of snarkyass remark, roast me to hell and back, or tune me out altogether.' He leans back in his chair, satisfied with his observations. 'You're a changed man, Kenma.'

'I don't want to hear that from you, old man.'

'Nooooo, you ruined it! And you were doing so well, too...'

Kenma rolls his eyes at his theatrical mourning, suppressing a smile behind a sip of hot tea as Kuroo quickly bounces back with a new topic. It's nice to see that some things don't change, but he'd rather get killed in a crucial boss battle moment than to admit that to Kuroo; all that would do is inflate his already huge head to astronomical sizes.

'How are things with you and the pipsqueak, by the way?' Kuroo eventually asks, taking a swig out of his iced coffee. 'It's been like, what, a year since we rescued him from certain doom?'

'A year and a half. And we're fine. Same as always.'

'He's working at that old gyudon shop by the street corner, right?'

'Yeah.' Here, Kenma snorts, a fond smile coming unbidden. 'He's finally gotten the hang of handling orders when rush hour hits. Took him long enough. ... What? What's with that look?'

'Nothing.' The smirk on Kuroo's face widens. 'Just glad you finally found someone, after all.'

Oh. That again.

It's not like that, Kenma wants to protest. It's not that he finally found someone, it's that he happened to find someone. The fact that his life would've been equally fruitful with just himself and his friends for company shouldn't have been a cause for concern. The fact that he treasures his friends and Shoyo with similar intensities shouldn't have to be a revolutionary concept. He shouldn't have to be the outlier in a realm of accepted normalcy.

But Kenma knows that trying to explain himself would only invite more questions and confusion, so he just lets the words die at the back of his throat and goes back to tinkering with his phone instead.

Some things really don't change, and while Kuroo always means well, it can be so very tiring.

If only Shoyo were here.

Knock knock knock.

Kuroo cuts himself off mid-conversation and turns to look; Kenma startles upon recognising the sudden figure that has popped up outside the café window.

'Shoyo?' he questions, incredulity colouring his tone. Isn't he supposed to be at work right now? Did his shift end earlier than usual today?

Naturally, Shoyo can't hear what he's saying through the glass, so he's just waving at him cheerily despite the sizeable object in his arms. It looks like a potted plant at first glance, yet not quite: the roots are clearly dangling at the bottom, and there are flowers dotting the sparse foliage in a delicate shade of pink. They kind of remind Kenma of the ones at the park, actually.

Wait. Dangling roots. Pink flowers. The park.

Kenma scrambles out of his seat, barely registering Kuroo's comment of 'Is that... a bush? Is he carrying a bush? Oh, man, good luck with that' behind him as he hastens to leave –

But he doesn't get very far before Shoyo enters the café.

'Shoyo, what are you – '

'Surprise!' he chirps. With a few quick, long strides, Shoyo makes his way over to Kenma. 'I was told by Yachi-san that it's common to give flowers to your partner, especially since it's now big-bloom season and flowers are super pretty and colourful, so I went out to get some as soon as I could. I didn't really know where to find them, but I managed somehow!'

There are too many things to unpack from that statement and too many people around them for Kenma to even think of a proper reply. His co-worker at the gyudon shop said that...? How much did Shoyo tell her about them that she would make such a suggestion at all...?

'You probably know this already, I'm really, really glad that we met,' Shoyo continues. 'You don't always say it, but I know how much you worry about me and care for me in your own way, and it means a lot. It meant a lot when I was muddling around by myself back then, and it means a lot now, along with all the little things about you that I adore so much. You mean so much to me, so I have to say it. And I'll keep saying it, as many times as I have to.'

He holds out the uprooted shrub to him the way one would with a bouquet, keeping his gaze on Kenma the whole time. It's ridiculous. This whole situation is ridiculous, but Shoyo's eyes have always been the pull of an ocean tide from the very beginning and Kenma has never been able to say 'no' to him and –

'Thank you for being my heart-mate.'

Oh, damn it all.

Kenma takes one step forward, two steps, three – and melts into Shoyo's arms. He doesn't care about the prickle of the shrub's foliage or anyone that's watching them right now. (The café has always had rather slow business, anyway.) Hell, he doesn't even care about the cheering and wolf-whistling in the background that's undoubtedly coming from Kuroo.

What could possibly go wrong?

'Honestly,' he mumbles against Shoyo's lips, before pulling away slightly to rest his forehead against his. 'I should be the one saying that.' There are so many things he wants to say that he can't put into words, so many moments he wants to share with him that he can only look forward to from now on.

But for now, this is more than enough.

As long as it's them, it's going to be just fine.

.

.

.

---

end.

[ note ] a bit of lore related to shoyo's species:

- different corvisols use emo-sig differently. ofc there are some who abuse it, but for shoyo he only uses it when he deems necessary. tobio tends to forget he can use it altogether
- the universal language ability works in two ways. first, to help u (or anyone u share it with) understand another language, and second, to translate ur words into that language, including names, honorifics and slang terms. if the corvisol is unfamiliar with a language, then the vocabulary is equally limited
- over the course of the story shoyo does adapt more to the jp language, but retains his "yes?" quirk
- all corvisols can transform into crows at will, but they're forced to change back if they're too tired

lastly, if anyone is curious about their ages, kenma is 20, kuroo is 21 (3rd year food & nutritional science student), tsukishima is 19 (1st year business student). shoyo and tobio are "19", natsu is "13". tysm for reading!