Chapter Seven: Kenma I
Do you have apple pie? What was I thinking? Well, obviously about pie, or food in general I suppose. His phone, usually on his desk -not as a blatant attempt at disrespect for his teacher- was tucked firmly into his pocket, away from prying eyes. Away from Kuroo's eyes, specifically. Not that he was embarrassed about his inability to have a normal conversation, nor was he embarrassed about texting Shoyo.Only texting Shoyo. He and Kuroo never texted because he and Kuroo were always together.
On the bright side, I'm getting pie; on the down side, I have to leave Tokyo, and my house. There was still time to cancel but I think I'm dying was keeping him from doing so. There were a lot of questions, Do you have Wifi? Is your apple pie made with green or red apples? How many outlets does your bedroom have? and the ever important, are you okay? He wondered when it would be appropriate to ask the first few questions. Should I bring my laptop? It's very likely that Shoyo has Wifi. But he lives in the country, what if it's not fast.
"Kenma." He grunted, "What are you doing over break?" Meeting the sun and eating apple pie, "Family, probably." His voice was quiet, always has been, that's why he never commented when Kuroo complained about the size of his ears. Kuroo hummed in response, "Want to hang out this weekend?" In Tokyo, at my house, with A/C and fast internet? Very much so. "Can't." Kuroo hummed again, wondered which of them started the bad habit that they both had. "No practice today." Kenma knew that, always knew when there was no practice, knew that Kuroo knew that he knew. He hummed again, in place of a response. "When are you free?" Depends on the new releases, summer was the time when it's 'acceptable' to never leave the house. He hummed again. "Sometime next week." Looked at Kuroo, "Maybe."
He never did family things, but it was the only lie that he had with Kuroo anymore, along with Shoyo now, I guess. "Want to go to a college game Wednesday?" No. Knew that Kuroo knew that he would always say no, as much as he liked Volleyball, the house -his house- was much more comfortable than a musty gym with people screaming. "What team?" Tokyo University, duh.
"Tokyo University, duh." Kenma's mouth shaped the words but Kuroo was the only one that said it. He wasn't sure why Kuroo loved Tokyo's college team so much. Didn't care enough to ask. "I'll think about it." And he would, at least for ten seconds. Might flip a coin if he was feeling particularly conflicted. Shoyo would probably tire him out for the rest of the summer, just from spending two -almost three- days with him. He shrugged.
"I'll get two good seats, just in case." Kuroo's lips are curved, can hear it in his voice without looking up. He wonders what Shoyo's voice sounds like without the smile permanently attached to his face.Probably the same, maybe lower. Shoyo had a high voice, like a kitten's.
Kuroo walked him home, as always, but despite Kuroo's endlessly long legs he was lagging behind. At least make it less obvious. It's annoying, but also whatever. Kuroo usually walked a step in front of him, making sure he didn't run into anything as he played. It'll be very hard to kill five dragon princes if I have a concussion. He sighs, puts his game in his shoulder bag, sighs again. Kuroo chooses that moment to catch up to him. Sighs again.
They walk side-by-side until their houses are a block away, Kuroo stops. He stops, sighs again. "Is there something wrong?" There's a smile on Kuroo's face despite the seriousness in his tone, his eyebrows wiggle in that creepy manner they do when there's something bothering him. "Are you okay?" He sighs, his care of the day going to Kuroo, as usual. Kuroo's head tilts, more like a dog than a cat, his messy hair flopping over both his eyes instead of the usual quota of one.
"I was pretty sure I was asking the questions." It's a statement, but an accusation, but also a question. I should just leave. It's a thought that is usually running through Kenma's head when people try to talk to him, sometimes during conversations with his own parents. He nods and shrugs at the same time. He wonders if he has to bring another game onto the train now that Kuroo is wasting his time. I'm fine, say it and it'll be over.
"I'm fine." It's a mumble, usually how he talks on the way home, his mind not on the conversation and instead on killing the dragon king. Kuroo hums, they're still stopped. The train leaves in half an hour. He wonders if Kuroo knows that, impossible. His eyes shift over his friend's face. Highly unlikely, at best, he settles for that instead. Kuroo was loud, but crafty when need be.
"If you sure." It's again, a question, statement, and an accusation all rolled into one. More importantly, it's annoying. They start walking again, Kenma's house is farther away, the station by their school, but he doesn't have a bag packed or he would have just ditched Kuroo and left from school. I have to go around. It's four extra blocks to get to the station without ending up spotted from Kuroo's window. Any of Kuroo's windows, he corrects himself.
Their walk home is quiet after that, Kuroo walks him to his gate, then to the door. This door is only locked when people aren't home. It is. Shoves his key into the door so fast that if somebody wasn't directly watching, it would appear he had just stumbled against an unlocked door. His key is gone, in his pocket, when he turns back to Kuroo. "See you at the game." He doesn't look at Kuroo's face as the door is shut. He sighs. His trick worked, but now he has to leave the house yet again sometime in the upcoming week.
His 3DS and PSP are in his overnight bag with their respective chargers before anything else are. His laptop is next to the bag, his mind weighing the pros and cons as clothes are packed next. Nightwear, two sets of day clothes, his church clothes, folded as neatly as possible when shoved into a small bag. Pro: Games. Con: Heavy.
He writes up a note for his parents, At a friend's house for the weekend. I have church clothes. The last part wasn't necessary to add, but his mother would flip if she had a suspicion that he had skipped church.Pro: Other games. Con: Shoyo's internet might suck, and then it'd be dead wight.
His toothbrush was packed into a baggy, toothpaste was next to his laptop. Also in question. Does Shoyo use spearmint or peppermint. What if it's neither. The toothpaste is packed. Pro: I could watch a movie on the train. Con: Laptop might die on the train, then the RAM might lose something.
Despite the cons outweighing the pros, if only by a tiny but, the laptop is packed its carrying case, along with the charger, the wireless mouse, and his headset. Two bags. Not too much for an overnight stay at an almost stranger's house, surely.
His note is placed on the kitchen counter, next to the rice cooker, then he is out the door. He turns left, away from Kuroo's house, walks two blocks, turns left again. The sighs are unusual but not unfamiliar, it is not a path he uses often. His phone is in his hand, waiting for a text from Shoyo saying, Just kidding, you don't have to sit on a train for almost four hours to get here and help me stop suffering.
It never comes.
The train is a lot sticker than he remembers, especially the seats. A shudder runs up his spike as his foot squelches from stepping in something. The train starts moving, and moving, and it doesn't stop. The blur of grey concrete and black streets are replaced with empty fields and empty, empty greens sights. His laptop is in his lap before the trip is halfway over, his headset plugged in as his password is typed with one hand.
Watches a movie as he pretends that everyone on the train isn't staring directly at him. He's seen it before, the movie that is, but it's a favorite, that's why it's on his hard drive in the first place. The credits are rolling as the train stops, Miyagi Prefecture, the ceiling tells him in static warped Japanese, Have a nice day. It says, but the voice is not cheerful.
Shoyo is waiting in front of the train doors as he steps off. Blinks. Logically, there's no way that Shoyo would know what part of the train he was sitting on. It's merely a coincidence that they end up standing in front of each other. More importantly, if he had Shoyo's address, why was the shorter boy even here.
"Kenma!" His voice is louder than the train's, but much clearer, but equally painful on the ears. Shoyo's smile is bright, as usual, but there's no thinly concealed rage directed at him, so he's a little more open to the reception. Until Shoyo starts asking questions. "How was the ride?" He asks first, "Fine." He responds, his voice is just chilling enough to tell Shoyo to back off, but not so much that the other boy spontaneously breaks down. He wonders when he became so courteous, especially to an almost stranger who gave him a passive-aggressive volleyball related threat.
Shoyo is sweaty, his shirt stained, and hair messier than what could be considered stylish, his chest is on the healthy side of heaving. Kenma is very uncomfortable with how Shoyo can smile in that condition. He shudders as the feeling of ghost sweat washes over his back. His most important analysis of all, is that Shoyo's hands are empty, no apple pie in sight. There is all weekend, I guess, but I'm hungry now.
"Want me to take your bags? It's a pretty long walk to my house." Long. Walk. He conceals a long sigh in the back of his hand, then another one. He's taller, and most likely stronger than Shoyo, he should probably carry his own bags, but the way Shoyo is bouncing, like he's an excited bellhop is very unsettling. He hands his overnight bag to the smaller boy, he pats the boy on the head three times. Ring, ring, ring. He doesn't miss the way Shoyo flinches, his eyes widening just enough to be noticeable. Interesting.
It's uncomfortable, being so close, and yet so far from his games. On the back of another's back, he's slightly apprehensive, not that he would admit it. His devices were delicate, and with the way Shoyo acted, he was anything but.
His nerves were on edge, watching the way Shoyo walked, a small hiss escaping his mouth when the other took a turn a little too sharp. Even if they were walking, quite slowly at that. Those were his babies, or as close to babies as they could get.
They walked, and walked, and walked. The summer heat was making him sweat, and it was a very unsettling feeling. Sweating without cause. They followed the highway, Shoyo's face not reflecting the concern of getting hit by a speeding vehicle. Not that any of the vehicles were speeding, everything in Miyagi seemed to be in slow motion, except Shoyo, who was always in double speed.
When they arrived to what Kenma could only describe as a village, did Shoyo open his mouth again, his face was lit up at the act of sharing his town with anyone. Or the joy of speaking. Kenma wasn't sure which it was. "That's where the team gets meat buns after practice, our coach works there." Which raises the question, do meat buns affect mental processes, if so, is it only for volleyball coaching or is it just in general. "Do you want to have one? I have some money saved up." It's an offer, Kenma realizes as Shoyo stops in front of the store, his eyes are lit up, but How much could they cost if someone has to save up to get them is the only question he can hear.
He nods, and Shoyo's smile brightens even more, and it doesn't look creepy. Which is creepy in itself. Kenma's not sure if he should wait outside or follow Shoyo in. The other boy couldn't take that long to purchase something from a store this small, but Shoyo seems like the type to get distracted easily, so he follows him in.
The store is small, like the outside depicts, and cramped, which Kenma was also expected. Shoyo is at the counter before Kenma had made up his mind to walk into the store. He's talking very quickly to the man behind the counter, who has a book dangling in one hand and a cigarette burning in the other. He barely recognizes Karasuno's coach, having not spent much time interacting or analyzing him. But, now that he has the opportunity, he takes it all in. He's halfway through the book, but the cover and spine are well worn, his eyes show that he shouldn't be a slow-reader, so it's a gift from someone. He runs a store, so it could be from a grateful long time customer, but his intimidating brow indicates that not many people are overly nice to him, let alone thankful enough for his services to provide him with such a gift, a seemingly precious gift, but a cheap one. So it's probably from a family member. The cigarette in his hand is nearly gone, its ash trail is long, meaning he was distracted, with the book most likely. Fingernails show a little yellow, so he's not been smoking long. All of his hair is there, so he can't be that old. Could be a college habit. He runs a store, maybe he didn't even go to college.
He walks up to the counter as Shoyo is handing the older man a crinkly note. It's a ten, well-worn, with fold marks all over it. Saving up a ten. He knew that Shoyo came from the country, so he couldn't be that well off, but was he really poor, or really, really poor. His clothes didn't give him away, they fit right, but that might be because Shoyo hadn't grown; he didn't ask because height was something the other boy was self-conscious about, gave it away when they first met. Weird for a middle blocker to be this short, huh?
He could feel the old man's gaze on him, seemingly through Shoyo, "Hinata." The smaller boy cut himself off from ranting, at the call of his name from his coach, "Yes, coach?" He asked, Kenma could feel Shoyo's intense gaze without being the subject of it. "Isn't that Nekoma's setter." The book in his hand was pointed at him, an accusation. Hinata's neck shifted, no excess skin folding up as he turned to face him. Shoyo smiled up at him, he blinked, his lip twitching despite his attempt to keep his face blank. "Yeah! He's my rival, so I invited him over so he could teach me, I even bribed him with an apple pie!" Shoyo's voice was a stage whisper as if he and the old man were exchanging a heavily-guarded secret. "I thought Kageyama was your rival." Kageyama. Kageyama... Kage...yama. Oh. The weird kid that sets for Shoyo. He nodded to himself, wait. Rivals? "Oh? Is that so?" The old man's gaze lifted from Shoyo to look right at him, through him. He nodded, then adverted the other's gaze.
"Kenma really wanted to try a meat bun, so here we are!" Shoyo explained, as if that was not a lie he had just created. When did I say I wanted to try one, why do you spread these lies, Shoyo. He sighed, and the old man's gaze were on him. "They make you good at volleyball, guaranteed." There was a smirk, his teeth were surprisingly white despite having lit up two cigarettes since they've started this conversation. "Well, I hope you can get something through this kid's thick skull." The old man's hand, free of a book that was now on his lap, was in Shoyo's hair, he watched Hinata's spine straighten drastically at that. Very interesting. "I got customers, so eat your buns and get out." The voice was stern, but a glance around the store showed nobody but them. Kenma raised a brow, but obeyed the order, following his Rival out of the store.
What could only be a meat bun was in his hand not a moment after the door closed behind them. Shoyo's eyes were shining up at him, the summer winds pushing his bangs, revealing his ivory forehead. No acne. Lucky brat. Shoyo was still staring at him. Meat bun, good volleyball, right. His fingers grasped around the hot shell and he brought it to his face, examining it.
It smelled, well, like a bun. With meat in it. There was grease rolling into his hand, down his arm. He shuddered and sank his teeth into it. He wondered how anybody could eat something this hot. Does the sun not get affected by the heat. A glance at Shoyo proved that no, no it does not. The smaller boy had shoved the entire thing in his mouth, which must have taken a lot of shoving considering how small hiseverything was. Kenma blew on the bun, and more grease slithered down his arm. He shuddered again.
They walked as Hinata led them to what could only be his house, he was still pointing, telling Kenma things of interest as he did so. "That's where Kageyama lives." Kenma recorded the street to memory, and made a promise never to ever go down that street. Ever. "And here is my house!" It had taken twenty minutes from Kageyama's house to get to Shoyo's.
The house itself was interesting, the location slightly more so. A small classic style cabin on top of a mountain. His shock, or interest, must have shown on his face, Shoyo was laughing, his cheeks were red, and not from the heat. Embarrassed? "It's a little small, but my mom said that this house has been in the family since, like, forever, I guess." He wondered how long like forever was.
More importantly, 'little small'. He hummed in acknowledgement, and followed Shoyo up to the front door, it opened with a scream that Kenma thought was the hinges. It was not. Shoyo hadn't even touched the door, but it had opened. "Older brother! Older brother!" Shoyo was a brother? An older brother. He looked down at the small girl, definitely Shoyo's sister. She had the same hair, bright fucking orange, but her eyes weren't the same shade of brown as Shoyo's. They weren't even brown. Almost grey-blue. Interesting.
"Natsu!" Shoyo yelled, his voice -thankfully- not as squeaky as the small child before them. "Who's that, older brother?" Natsu squeaked, her small finger pointed up at him. He wondered if her hands were sticky. A dark smudge on her face suggested so. "This is Kenma, he's my rival." Does she even know that word, or does Shoyo say it enough that everyone knows that word.
Natsus's eyes hardened, her brow lowering, "Then you'll be my rival too!" She shouted, voice grating as it elevated in volume. "Natsu!" Another voice called, stopping the small girl as she started running towards him. "Who's at the door, Natsu?" Shoyo's mother. "Natsu-?" The voice called, then a body appeared from the shadows and suddenly behind the small, screaming girl. "Oh, it's you, and you must be apple pie." Her voice had taken a different tone than when she was calling Natsu, harder? Annoyed maybe? He wasn't sure, but he nodded, despite the nickname had been given.
Kenma noticed two things as he took off his shoes, Shoyo had really small feet, and he had a lot of sneakers. He stopped at the entrance before he stepped into Shoyo-provided slippers, "Thank you for having me, Miss Hinata." He bowed, almost deeply. Shoyo was smiling at him, his feet wiggling in just socks, looking like he wanted to say something. The woman, who now had a screaming Natsu on her hip turned around suddenly. "I'm not a Hinata." It sounded, odd, like she had been offended somehow. He bowed again, "I'm very sorry." He said, just loud enough, Shoyo snickering beside him.
"That's Sato-san, she's my mom's assistant; she usually takes care of Natsu while mom's at the office." He looked up at the woman in front of him, her hair was blacker than black, it contrasted her pale skin nicely, he supposed. Shoyo stopped, so he did as well, then looked around the room for a reason as to why they stopped. He took this time to get a good look at the room they were in.
The hallway they emerged from ended abruptly with a large counter that must be part of the kitchen. This looks very inconvenient, especially if you're in a rush. He could imagine Shoyo running through here, banging several body parts on the corner from turning too quickly. The rest of the room did not have an inconveniencing design. Compact, but just roomy enough not to induce claustrophobia. The walls were bright white at some point, but had faded into a grey-white, a large navy rug covered most of the wood flooring in the living room. A traditional dinner table was serving as a coffee table in the middle of the rug. A large, square entertainment center covered most of the far wall. A big square TV in the biggest open space. A cable receiver on top of it, the rest of the shelves are covered in photo frames that he couldn't make out from the other side of the room. The Another hall way separated the living room wall from connecting to the kitchen wall. A rice cooker and a microwave sat on one side of the stove, the sink on the other. Small, but functional.
Miss Sato sat Natsu down on the inconveniently placed counter top and started speaking to her in hushed towns. "Right!" Natsu screamed as Sata pulled back, a smile exposing dimples that didn't match her perfect smooth skin. Wait. Wait. Wait. Wait. He glanced up, Sato-san has the same grey-blue eyes as Natsu. Just a coincidence. He had never met Shoyo's father, so there was no way to tell if he had the same grey-blue eyes, or even if Shoyo's mother had the same trait.
Kenma watched as Natsu jumped from the counter, several bowls in her hands, she walked into the living room and started setting the table. The coffee table isn't just for coffee drinking. Another glance to the living room, revealed that there was no sofa. He didn't know if a coffee table needed a sofa to be considered a coffee table, but that seemed to be the case so far. He looked down, Shoyo was tugging at his hand. He looked up, Shoyo was smiling at him. "Let's put your bags away in my room." He hummed, nodded, then followed Shoyo by the pull of his grip.
He was pulled into the hallway between the kitchen and the living room, Shoyo pulled him to the only door on the left, a classic sliding one, identical to the other two on the opposite side of the hallway. A non-sliding door was on the far wall. The bathroom. He wasn't sure which hit him first, the smell of deodorant and body odor, or the blinding light of the setting sun. Was it really that late already? He was pulled further into the room, it was carpeted unlike the rest of floor he had seen so far. Vacuum tracks were lined up unevenly and the floor was clear of dirty clothes. How unexpected. He was pretty sure that Shoyo would have a room dirtier than his, that was not the case. But to be fair, Shoyo had a guest, and Kenma never wanted them.
There was only one picture in Shoyo's room, a team picture, all of them posing, exposing their Karasuno Volleyball Team jackets, all of them smiling at the camera. He wasn't sure what to make of the picture. They were all close, it seemed, their coordination spoke otherwise.
The walls were white, like the rest of the house, he had expected Shoyo's walls to be littered in pictures, or at least be painted in an eye-blinding color. The sheets were though, so he was almost right in his estimation. They were a bright orange, spread over a western style bed, the only western thing in the house, they were as messy as Kenma had expected the room to be. Wrinkly and flopped about, like Kenma's own bed. "You can put that on here." Shoyo said, placing the bag he had over his own shoulder on the edge of the bed. Kenma did as he was told, placing his laptop bag on top of his overnight one.
"Thanks for having me." Kenma said after an awkward silence where Shoyo just stared at him, Shoyo laughed again, "I didn't think you'd come to be honest." Shoyo's eyes were downcast now, but Kenma could see the pink in his cheeks. "Apple pie might have been the deciding factor." It's a tease, but also a reminder. Shoyo's mouth opened like he was going to reply, but "Older brother! Older Brother's Kenma! Food dinner!" Older brother's Kenma. Food dinner. He wasn't sure if it was normal for small children to speak that way, he'd never been around one this long before. "Pie after dinner, I made it myself!" Shoyo smiled brightly, which only served to make Kenma slightly nervous. If it was good, he'd have to thank Shoyo, and then kidnap him to be a pie slave. If it was bad, he'd have to thank Shoyo and then silently vomit in the bathroom.
The table was fully set in the time it took them to walk from the living room to Shoyo's room, which was impressive given that a small child was assisting. Actually assisting instead of hindering. Reliable children, the world gets better everyday. There were four cushions, two on each long side of the table. Nobody at the head. Nobody but him seemed to notice, the other three were already sitting and were staring at him expectantly. Most notably two pairs of grey-blue. Don't jump to conclusions.
He sat down next to Shoyo, who smiled at him, always smiling at him. "Thank you for the food!" They all chorused, his almost obviously quiet compared to Natsu and Shoyo's. Sato-san gave him a weird look from across the table, then cast a pointed look at Shoyo, "Eat your rice, Shoyo." A command. Shoyo's smile fell at that, Kenma stared at him, the first time that Shoyo's face was blank, even if his lips were squirming in something. He picked up his own spoon and rice, looking at the table for the first time. Miso soup, grilled mackerel, a bowl of salad and rice for each of them.
Jasmine rice. Very nice. It was sweeter than what most of Japan grew, but got soggy faster than other rices, so it had to be eaten quickly, and so he did. The mackerel was a little saltier than he expected, and he might have wiped a lot of excess of it off on his salad -discreetly, of course- but other than that. The meal was very much to his liking. Shoyo, on the other hand, was having a very difficult time eating anything, which was quite surprising considering how much time the other boy spend jumping around.
"Shoyo." A harsh whisper from Sato-san rectified the situation, Shoyo's spoon quickly finding its way from the rice and into his mouth. Kenma watched the other boy grimace, he doesn't like sweet rice? "Eat your rice, big brother, so you can get strong!" Natsu's outburst forced the grimace from Shoyo's lips, it wasn't gone but was hidden from his little sister. "Yes, Natsu-sama." Shoyo said, bowing into his rice, ever so subtly spitting out his mouthful into a napkin. Kenma shifted, staring obviously at the other boy.
Shoyo smiled at him, but his cheeks were flushed. His eyes were serious and Kenma found himself giving him a nod. I won't tell. Then another stare, for another promise, but Shoyo was already looking away from him. "Oh, ku-darn," followed by Sato-san standing up, a device -a cell phone- being pushed to her ear. "Yes, Hinata-sama?" Hinata-sama. "Right away, Miss." Sato-san was by the door before she realized she was in the middle of a dinner. "Uh, Shoyo, take care of Natsu. Natsu, make sure Shoyo eats his rice. Apple pie, pies on the counter, should be cooled by now. Bye."
Shoyo and Natsu waved goodbye to their caretaker, and she was out of the door, Kenma stared at Shoyo, and then nodded at the rice when their eyes met. "Eat the rice, big brother, it's really good!" Natsu screeched, then shoved a big spoonful into her mouth, most of which ended up on the table or her face.
"Do you not like Jasmine?" Kenma found himself asking, curious as to why someone would have remind Shoyo to eat. "W-what? Oh. I guess not, it always tastes weird to me, like," He paused, his cheeks rolling as he looked for the right word, "Chalky. I guess." He nodded to himself. Kenma blinked. Jasmine rice was smooth and moist, more than most rice. "Want me to eat it for you?" Kenma was never one for seconds, but leaving evidence is a mistake for rookies, although a witness, was even worse.
His eyes fell on Natsu, Shoyo's followed, the little girl gulped loudly. "Our secret?" It was Shoyo that had asked, she hummed for a long, long moment, then chirped an affirmative. "Big brother's rival has to be strong too." She nodded at him. He nodded back, then picked up his rice.
He was prepared for the sweetness, even if it was accompanied with the wrong side of moistness. A spoonful was in his mouth with little hesitation, his eyes still on Shoyo. What is this. The rice was in fact, not sweet and not moist, well not moist-moist, it did hold a certain chalkiness that Shoyo had spoken of. Probably just the bottom of the batch. He didn't eat the rest of it, the mysterious chalky residue too gritty on his teeth. The table was cleared after that. Shoyo washing the dishes, and hiding his rice in the bottom of the trashcan. Natsu was speaking faster than anyone had a right to, he was pretty sure she was begging Shoyo to play with him, but he wasn't certain.
He retreated back to Shoyo's room, his laptop in his lap before he could help it. He typed his password in with one hand and unlocked his phone with the other. No messages. Locked his phone. Did a scan for Wifi. None of that either. Kenma wanted to scream, very, very badly. What fresh hell is this. His laptop was off and his PSP took its place. He advanced in his quest to destroy all the dragon princes in the land, and only manged one by the time Shoyo returned. He looked up, Shoyo looked down. Unpaused.
"Sorry about Sato-san, she's kind of... I dunno, serious." Pause. Look up. Plate of pie in his face. Shoyo smiled, handed him a fork. He accepted both. The moment of truth. Fork. Pie. Mouth. He chewed slowly, maybe too slowly because Shoyo looked impatient for his opinion, staring up at him from his place on the bed, close to hear each other breath. "It's very good, thank you." It was good, very good; his hand shifted, patted Shoyo's head three times just like he had done earlier. His flinch was much more subtle this time, wondered what caused the reaction in the first place. He didn't ask, mouth and attention focused on pie.
Until it wasn't, a high pitches chirp that Kenma had confused for Natsu was actually Shoyo's phone. Which was being flipped open. Flipped open. Flip. The act of... flipping. In front of my eyes. A phone. A cell phone. Being flipped. He looked down at his pie, wondered if it was all worth it. Shoyo has a flip phone. I'm not sure we can be friends any more. 'I'm sorry, Shoyo, it's not me... it's you.' moment. He sighed. He should get Shoyo's birthday written down somewhere, the pie, so, so good. Was being ruined with the sight before him.
I'll save you from this hell, Shoyo. This hell being an out-dated piece of garbage. He nodded to himself, which caught Shoyo's attention apparently. "Sorry, Kageyama was wondering why we weren't practicing." He nodded again, trying not to stare too obviously at that thing.
"Oh, Right!" Shoyo exclaimed after a minute, jumping up from the bed, "Natsu is watching Spirited Away, want to join us?" It was a question, but come out like a plea. He really didn't want to do that. As much as he enjoyed staring at screens for days at a time, doing so while in proximity with a child was not something he would describe as a good time, but he nodded, unable to resist someone who could make a pie so good.
Natsu was surprisingly quiet for someone who had screamed at him when they first met, her eyes were closed by the end of the movie, and Kenma was grateful, not sure if he could handle any more screaming for the evening. Or the rest of his life.
Shoyo, surprisingly, picked up the small girl, and carried her with moderate ease all the way into the hallway, and into what could only be her bedroom. Shoyo emerged a minute later, and shut the door, yawning loudly. "Ready for bed?" The smaller boy asked, another yawn muffled into his arm. If by bed you mean: sitting in bed and slaying the dragon king, then yes. He nodded, and followed Shoyo into his bedroom. His toothbrush was pulled from his bag and he walked into bathroom -which was confirmed to be at the end of the hall- he looked around the small room, bath and shower combined, a sink, and a toilet that was really close to everything else. He found some pain reliever and other pill bottles that he couldn't recognize from the name of, and toothpaste. Spearmint. He wouldn't have to bring his own next time.
He made quick work of cleaning the in and outs of his face and then returned to Shoyo's bedroom. The smaller boy had changed into a very, very large hoodie. The neck hole looked about as wide as Shoyo's neck and exposed most of his muscle-lacking chest. Smooth legs were sticking out of the bottom. Smooth. Shaved? Had Shoyo not... matured? He hoped more importantly, that Shoyo was wearing underwear, but wasn't about to ask. Shoyo moved past him, and into the bathroom, the sink running a moment later. He took this moment to change into his pajamas, and put his toothbrush away.
Shoyo returned a moment later, and Kenma was standing in the middle of the floor. "Oh right." Shoyo hummed, oh god, not you too. "We could probably share, but I think we have a futon around here somewhere..." He trailed off, looking around the room as if it could be hiding in plain sight. Kenma looked at the far wall, next to Shoyo's bed. Outlets. He could use his phone in bed. He looked back at Shoyo, measuring him mentally. The other ball was small, looking even more so in his hoodie, which had somehow slid over one of his shoulders.
"It'll be fine." You're small enough, was on his tongue, but didn't want to insult his maker. His pie maker. Kenma tugged his bags off the bed and set them against the wall, his phone charger was pulled out and he settled on the bed a moment later. Shoyo turned off the lights without warning and then climbed onto the bed next to him, a heavy weight that made the pillow shift below him. He adjusted the brightness on his phone, turned down the brightness as well, then settled again.
He wasn't sure what time it was when the pillow shifted again, then a weight settled on his mid section. "Shoyo." He said, voice thick from disuse. Shoyo hummed in askance as if nothing was unusual about this. "You're on my stomach." Not as much of an accusation as a question. "It's comfy too." He stated, Kenma could hear the smirk. He sighed, then squirmed, Hinata's head was really warm on top of him, made even worse by the lack of A/C during a Japanese summer.