Scratch

Chapter 16:

Compromises

Some days were easier than others. Some days, Kenma could fight off the feeling of impending unhappiness and survive a night without tears. Some days, he could ignore the random pangs of sadness that shot through his entire body.

Some days.

But not that day.

When it came to those days, those unbearably rotten days, there was only one choice possible. On those days, Kenma couldn't ignore the depression or pretend it wasn't there. He couldn't go around it, he couldn't use pleasant things to ease the difficulty or distract himself. There was only one option, and it wasn't even an option, it was more of an obligation than anything:

Survive. Get through the night. It was the only way, without fail, that the sun rose once again and he could continue on with his life once more.

Even though Kenma had vowed to make sure his day wasn't totally terrible, he knew deep down that the night would most likely be filled with bowls of ice cream and cuddling with his cats. During the day, he was able to fend the darkness away by busying himself with his work, but the second the work day was over and he had to step outside into the cold, snowy weather, everything went to hell.

Whimpering to himself, he stared out at the cold and wished it was Spring already. He missed the sunshine and the warmth, it was only five o'clock and the sun had nearly set already. To make matters worse, he would have to stomp through the snow more than necessary before he could even go home: he still needed to pick up his cats from the vet office.

Grudgingly, Kenma forced himself to brave the winter cold and walk to his car. He rubbed his hands together to keep them warm while the air inside the car heated up and he could finally begin his trek home.

(He even turned his butt warmer on.)

Once he arrived at the veterinary office, he shuffled inside towards the front desk and frowned. Kenma wasn't entirely sure how he felt about seeing Oikawa instead of Kuroo. Grumbling to himself, he cleared his throat in an effort to get the receptionist's attention. He wanted to get his cats and go home, it had been a long day and it would probably be a long night as well.

Oikawa jumped.

Both startled and irritated from being interrupted while he was relaxing, Oikawa looked up from his magazine. Recognizing the blond, his eyes lit up and he leaned forward with some type of all-knowing-grin. He tapped his fingers on the desk and tilted his head in curiosity, before commenting, "So you're the boyfriend, huh?"

Kenma's frown twitched up just the fraction of an inch from being called Kuroo's boyfriend. Before the conversation could go any further, however, and become somehow embarrassing, he tried his hardest to look annoyed. The 'boyfriend' looked down at Oikawa and held out his hand, ignoring the rhetorical question and instead asked, "Can I have my cats back?"

"Oh, sure, sure," he nodded, turning in his seat to go retrieve the cats, "I'll be back in a jiffy."

Glancing around, Kenma noticed that even indoors the dreary, winter day had affected the mood. The office wasn't as bright as usual, and there weren't any visitors in the waiting room, though if there had been, they most likely would've been quiet and restful. He also noticed, as a byproduct of the office being too quiet, that Kuroo wasn't there either.

"Well, here you go," Oikawa said, handing the two cat carriers to their owner. He seemed to think about something, before shaking his head and continuing with his reception duties.

After Kenma set Colin and Clyde down gently onto the floor, he held out his hand once again, this time giving Oikawa a credit card to pay for the visit. Lips twitching into an amused smile, he took the credit card and swiped it, handing it back, mentioning offhandedly, "Kuroo is in the back with a patient. He shouldn't be too long."

"Great," Kenma replied without any heart as he bent down to pick up his cats. He turned to leave before pausing and mumbled, "I'll let him tend to his patients, it's fine."

"If you say so," Oikawa called across the room, right as the other man opened the door and left. Slumping down in his chair once again, he allowed himself a brief moment to wonder about what just happened, before he opened his magazine and continued his reading.

A while later, Oikawa groaned and flopped down into the reception desk chair, wincing slightly as he hit his head. It was a little after six pm and the end of his shift was nearing, but there was absolutely nothing to do. He was incredibly bored, considering he had already finished his magazine, and there weren't any visitors or animals to keep his attention.

So, what did he do? He texted Iwaizumi, of course.

"Hey, did Kenma come in?" Kuroo asked a few text messages later. Oikawa glanced up to acknowledge his presence. Furrowing his eyebrows, he continued, "I didn't see either of his cats in the back. He already came in, didn't he?"

"He sure did," Oikawa drawled and grinned, "Detective Kuroo."

Smacking his friend playfully, Kuroo smirked and leaned against the desk. He stayed there for a few moments, quietly, as Oikawa tapped away on his phone. Though Kuroo realized Kenma wasn't exactly the most affectionate person, one would think he would at least stopped to say hi or something. Maybe something was wrong.

Kuroo wasn't sure if he should ask Oikawa - of all people - but steeled himself, and cleared his throat. Once his receptionist looked up, he said, "Uh, this is probably kind of weird to ask, but did Kenma seem… weird, to you?"

"He's always weird, doc," Oikawa replied, face scrunched in slight amusement. When Kuroo didn't laugh, he sighed and shook his head, continuing, "He did seem kind of, like… sad, I guess. I don't know. He came in here, got his cats, and left; didn't even tell me to say anything to you."

"I thought so," Kuroo nodded in acknowledgement. Pushing himself off the desk, he walked away, deep in thought, pausing only to thank Oikawa briefly.

For the rest of the night, until Akaashi could come in for his late-night shift and relieve him, Kuroo fought an internal battle. He didn't know whether to call Kenma and ask him what was wrong, or to leave him be. Calling him would probably make him feel weak, like Kuroo had to protect him, make him feel better or something. Of course, Kuroo did want to protect and comfort his boyfriend, but he understood that it was an issue for Kenma to feel weak.

At the same time, however, Kuroo knew that he definitely did not want to leave him alone. His thoughts kept flitting back to the night where Kenma had called him, asking him to just talk about trivial things until he fell asleep. It was hard to forget that he had been crying, when it had been devastatingly obvious.

And so, when neither option seemed viable, Kuroo did what he usually did: he came up with a third option. He only hoped that Kenma would be okay, or at least until there was a chance to comfort him.

Kenma watched his cats carefully, a ghost of a smile on his lips. Lynn and Sugar had been worried about their fellow cats, and had welcomed Clyde and Colin back into the apartment with much warmth and happiness. It was cute, that's all there was to it.

Unfortunately, even cute cats couldn't cure him.

Resigned to his night of mere survival, Kenma shuffled into his small apartment kitchen, and grabbed the ice cream carton out of the freezer, foregoing any type of bowl. Before he could forget, he fed all of his cats and filled their water bowl. Eventually, though, he made it into his tiny living area, flopping down onto the couch and watched a re-run of The Simpsons.

As he finished his pint of ice cream, he put the container on the ground and smiled gently as Lynn licked at the barest trace of melted ice cream left over. His eyes flitted back up to the screen, feeling empty yet bored as he went through the channels. Nothing good was on, but that also might have been because of his mood. Sighing, he ended up on a movie channel, which was playing some kind of soft, romantic comedy.

Kenma didn't even know he had fallen asleep until a knock on his door jolted him awake. Rubbing his eyes, he scrambled to get up without crushing any of the cats cuddled up to him. He stumbled to the door, and opened it without bothering to look through the peep hole.

Whoever he was expecting to see, he wasn't expecting to see Kuroo. He definitely wasn't expecting Kuroo to come in uninvited, pull him into a surprise hug, and close the door, all without a word. Enveloped in his boyfriend's much bigger frame, Kenma first stiffened. People rarely touched him, and if they did, they asked him beforehand. After a while, the warmth from the hug helped him relax, feeling a type of comfort he hadn't felt in years. Memories flashed in his mind and he couldn't help himself with his eyes welled with tears.

If this had been any other night, if it had been any other person, if Kenma had been thinking clearly, he would've pushed him away.

But it wasn't any other night, and it wasn't any other person. Those excuses were the only reasoning he had when he was picked up by Kuroo with a grunt and he actually found himself wrapping his legs around his boyfriend, in some effort to help ease his weight.

Kenma tried to ignore the obvious wet spot he was forming on Kuroo's shirt, he tried to ignore the soft words being mumbled into his ears, and above all, he tried to ignore the paradoxical feeling of comfort and weakness.

Time passed.

It wasn't entirely obvious how much time had actually passed, but Kenma sleepily suspected it hadn't been more than a few minutes: Kuroo was still holding him, with no sign of his arms shaking under the weight. The few minutes that did pass, though, took the sadness and tears with it and left only exhaustion.

When Kenma yawned and snuggled into the shirt, Kuroo smiled to himself and walked to the bedroom. He carefully laid Kenma down, tenderly tucking him into the bed and into the covers, barely managing to muffle a laugh when all four cats immediately flocked onto the bed.

The two men stared at each other: Kuroo with warmth; Kenma with gratitude.

Kuroo watched with affection as his boyfriend rolled over, his breath evening out. He knew that the young man had fallen asleep, within that miniscule amount of time, and that realization only made Kuroo's heart swell even more with fondness.

As he made his way into the living space, Kuroo sat on the couch, and thought to himself. He wasn't sure what word would exactly describe what had just happened, and so he just settled with interesting. The entire time, even with Kenma crying and Kuroo holding him, they hadn't said one word. No greeting, no explanation, no goodnight. But, he supposed, that had probably been a good thing.

Kenma reminded him of a cat. Only peace and quiet, soft words and gentle touches could coax him.

The next morning, Kenma opened his eyes slowly, sunshine attempting to filter into the room. He sat up in his bed and rubbed his eyes, holding back a yawn. A delicious smell wafted through to his room, and he found himself subconsciously getting out of bed and following the smell to the kitchen. He passed through the doorway and stopped suddenly, blinking in confusion.

Kuroo was standing in front of the stove, cooking eggs and whistling to himself. That wasn't the weird part: he was wearing an apron. Kenma had no idea where it came from. He didn't own an apron. Kuroo had not only taken care of breakfast for the two of them, but had fed the cats as well.

The scene was so domestic and normal that it physically hurt Kenma to watch. Averting his eyes, he walked past Kuroo and sat at the miniature dining table, slumping into a chair. He knew that Kuroo had noticed him, yet neither of them started a conversation.

A few minutes passed as Kenma found comfort in petting Lynn and the soft hum of the different kitchen appliances. Kuroo stopped whistling and was suddenly standing at the table, putting down two plates of breakfast. "I hope you like your eggs scrambled. That's the only way I can make them. Plus, I added some cheese."

"They're fine," Kenma replied. The sight and smell of food had woken him up, and his stomach rumbled. He dug into his eggs, surprised to find cheese had been sprinkled in them as well, even if he had been informed. They were delicious.

Apparently, he had spoken out loud. Kuroo was smirking, obviously proud of himself, though he didn't say anything. They sat in silence as they ate their breakfast. For once, Kenma was the first to break the silence.

"How did you know?"

Kuroo didn't need to be a genius to know they were talking about the night before. He was quiet for a moment, picking at his hash browns as he considered how to answer. Eventually, he shrugged and replied, "My Kenma senses were tingling."

Kenma snorted in response, like he thought this entire thing was ridiculous. Which it was, of course. Suddenly, the mood turned sour and he tensed, becoming defensive. He glared down at his near-empty plate and said, "I don't need your help. I'm fine on my own."

"Are you sure you're good enough on your own right now?" Kuroo asked carefully, studying his boyfriend. A moment passed. He leaned forward, and commented, "You, yourself, told me the other day that you're not strong."

The fact that Kuroo was so invested in him, that Kuroo actually cared about him, it made everything worse. Kenma kept his eyes down, staring at the wooden table and mumbled, "That doesn't mean I need you to fix me, or whatever. You can't fix me. That's the whole damn problem, and I have to live with it."

"I'm not trying to," he promised, his voice laced with fondness and affection, "But does that mean I can't support you through a rough time?"

Kenma looked up, staring at his boyfriend with confusion. Kuroo smiled and tapped his fork on the table, thinking of a way to explain his thinking. Eventually, the tapping stopped and he explained, "I'm not trying to fix you, only help you. For example… instead of carrying you, I'm holding your hand, you know?"

A hand found its way into Kenma's, and he flinched at the sudden physical affection. He forced himself to relax. When he looked down at the table, he stared at the hand, slowly following the arm up to the shoulder with his eyes. He took a deep breath, and looked at his boyfriend's face.

Kuroo's expression was so full of love and endearment, Kenma found his frown slowly dissolving into a small smile. Someone cared for him. Kuroo had never said it to him, but he knew. Those eyes and that expression, the one trying to coax happiness from even the saddest of people. Kuroo cared so much about him.

They were silent for a long time. It was a type of silence that Kenma wasn't used to, but wasn't against at all. They were quiet, and it was comfortable; they knew what each other were thinking without having to say anything. The entire setting felt as if they had known each other for years.

It was a wonderful feeling.

Kuroo scooted his chair around the table to be closer to his boyfriend. Their hands stayed interlocked, fingerings intertwining together. He leaned over and whispered in Kenma's ear, "You are so strong, you know that? You can be independent, and you can do anything. But I want to help you. I want to be here for you."

"Okay," Kenma mumbled and paused, before adding, "Then stay with me."

It was so quiet that Kuroo almost missed it, even straining to hear. He smiled, the genuine one that he saved only for his boyfriend, and leaned over to kiss Kenma's temple affectionately. He knew how difficult that must have been for him. Kenma looked up wearily, studying the other man's face and mumbled, "You are so handsome when you smile like that."

Kuroo just kept smiling.