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"Welcome home," Kenma called out as he heard the apartment door open, eyes never leaving the large monitor in front of him. It was only when the door shut much harder than usual that he paused his game with a frown. "Kuro?"
Still receiving no response, he stood up from the couch he'd been camped out on all day and moved towards the front door. As he turned the corner to step into the entryway, he spotted his best friend crouched next to the door, face hidden by his impossibly long limbs as he curled in on himself.
"Kuro, what's wrong?" Kenma asked, rushing down the short hallway to kneel in front of the distraught man. Kuroo only shook his head, refusing to look up even as Kenma tried to push his arms away from his face. "We don't have to talk about it right now if you don't want to," the streamer said quietly as he glanced at the bag on the floor next to him, the nearby liquor store logo emblazoned across the front. "C'mon," he added as he stood, "the couch will be more comfortable than the floor."
After another long moment, Kuroo nodded, slowly unfolding himself and climbing to his feet. Kenma scooped up the bag with one hand, grabbing Kuroo's hand with the other and leading him towards the living room. Approaching the couch, Kuroo pulled away and flopped unceremoniously onto it, face smushed onto the arm with his left arm and leg dangling off the side. Kenma studied his roommate, eyebrows knit in concern over this unusual behaviour, then stepped past the couch to drop the bag of alcohol on the kitchen counter.
"Wait," Kuroo moaned, turning his face towards Kenma for the first time. As Kenma looked back at him, Kuroo waved towards the bag in his hand, motioning for the gamer to return it to him. Reluctantly, he moved closer to the couch, holding the cloth bag open by the handles so Kuroo could pull out one of the bottles, now propped up on his right elbow. As the taller man freed the container of vodka, he twisted around in order to sit upright, quickly opening the lid and taking a large gulp straight from the bottle, grimacing as it burned its way down his throat.
"I'll order some food," Kenma said softly, making his way to the kitchen so he could put the bag down. He fished his phone out of the front pocket of his oversized hoodie— which was originally Kuroo's— and placed their order with practiced ease. Over the top of his screen, he saw Kuroo take another drink from the bottle, his concern growing by the second. With a heavy sigh, he pulled a glass from the cupboard for Kuroo to use, then a second one to fill with water for him. With both cups in hand, he made his way back to Kuroo, placing them gently on the table next to the couch. Wordlessly, Kuroo held out the bottle to Kenma, who simply wrinkled his nose in response.
"Are you ok?" Kenma asked instead, taking the bottle and putting it on the table beside the glasses.
"I will be soon," Kuroo finally answered, reaching towards the vodka once more. He paused for a moment before pouring some into the empty cup, filling it nearly to the brim.
"Do you want to talk about it?" Kenma's frown deepened when Kuroo only shook his head, taking a drink from the glass this time. "Alright," he acquiesced, sitting on the couch next to his best friend.
He had barely settled into his seat before Kuroo laid back down, resting his head on Kenma's lap and shifting to find a comfortable position. Kuroo rolled over, pressing his face against Kenma's stomach before he eventually stopped moving, comfortable at last. A little known fact about Kuroo, even among their former teammates, was that he was a very tactile person, and cuddling always seemed to make him feel better on bad days. Typically, he would open up about what was bothering him as they sat together, but Kenma had never seen him like this, and he clearly wasn't ready to talk about it. Instead, Kenma simply ran his left hand through the perpetual bedhead as he scrolled aimlessly on his phone with his right, allowing Kuroo time to work through whatever was bothering him. After only a few minutes, however, Kuroo abruptly sat up, catching Kenma off guard as he reached for the glass of vodka. He quickly emptied the cup, shaking his head at the taste as he put the now empty glass on the table before laying back down, face pressed into the gamer's stomach once more.
"Work sucks," he eventually groaned, and Kenma's hand stilled in his hair as he waited for Kuroo to continue, but the other man remained silent.
"What happened?" Kenma frowned down at the mess of black hair that hid his best friend's face, combing his fingers through it as he spoke. Just then, his phone chimed, notifying him that the delivery driver was outside with their order. "Kuro," he said quietly, "I have to go get the food, but I'll be right back, okay?" Kuroo didn't respond, simply sitting up so Kenma could answer the door, then reached for the bottle of alcohol once more. Kenma watched him for a moment longer before standing up, placing a gentle hand on Kuroo's shoulder as he moved towards the front door.
Food in hand, he returned to the living room to find Kuroo sprawled across the couch, face down once more. Kenma quickly placed the takeout bag on the kitchen counter next to the liquor, grabbing two folding tables and setting them up in front of the couch before retrieving the bag once more. "Kuro, you should eat," he encouraged as he emptied the takeout package onto the tables.
"Not hungry," Kuroo moaned into the couch, unmoving.
"You know how important it is to eat properly," Kenma argued, gently poking his back.
"Not hungry," he repeated, pushing himself up onto his knees so Kenma could sit back down. Kenma sighed, knowing he wouldn't win this fight, and sank into the couch once more. As soon as he was comfortable, Kuroo deflated, returning to his previous position with his face buried in the front of Kenma's— his— hoodie, left arm slung around Kenma's waist as if trying to keep him from leaving. Kenma frowned at the tables in front of him, wishing Kuroo would eat before the food got cold, but he'd had enough bad days like this to understand why he wouldn't. He turned his head to look at the cups set next to the couch and grew that much more concerned when he noticed the bottle of vodka was now half empty.
"It's all just a waste of time," Kuroo spoke, speech slurring ever so slightly as the alcohol took hold.
"What is?" Kenma began running his fingers through Kuroo's messy hair again, hoping he was ready to open up about what was weighing on him so heavily.
"All of it," came the muffled response, but no elaboration.
"Did something happen at work?" Kenma felt Kuroo tense up at this, and knew his guess had been right on the mark.
"They killed my program," Kuroo whined, his arm tightening around Kenma's waist, face pressing harder into the fabric as if he were trying to disappear into it.
"Your youth outreach program?" Kenma asked in surprise.
"Yeah," Kuroo replied, somehow sounding sadder than he had before. "It's so stupid," he continued, trying to roll onto his back. Kenma bit back a small smile at his roommate's drunken flailing, as Kuroo's left arm that had been holding the gamer in place made it impossible for the taller man to successfully roll over. With a heavy sigh of defeat, Kuroo pushed himself up on his hands, one placed on either side of Kenma's hips as he braced himself on the couch cushions in an attempt to sit upright. With a scowl, he twisted around, eventually flopping onto his back and settling in, head back in Kenma's lap so he could look up at the streamer as he talked.
"Why did they cut the program?" Kenma asked gently, absentmindedly brushing untamed strands of hair from Kuroo's forehead with one hand, the other resting on the latter's chest.
"Because apparently it's a 'waste of time and resources'," Kuroo spat, a mixture of hurt and anger flashing across his face.
"I thought it was successful though," Kenma frowned.
"It was!" Kuroo exclaimed, throwing his hands up in frustration. "I was making good progress, and I was getting more kids involved in volleyball. We had funds dedicated to supporting the program, and sponsoring equipment for those who can't afford it. Volleyball teams in numerous schools were growing because of this program, and that in turn boosted team morale, pushing many to be more competitive and want to win, especially the smaller teams that thought they would never be able to compete against bigger teams. Just think about it," he continued his rant, "how many amazing potential players are we going to miss because they can't afford to play? How many Bokutos and Hinatas and Ushiwakas? We need players like that to represent Japan on the world stage. Isn't that the whole point of the JVA?"
"So why would they consider it a waste?" Kenma scowled at this, knowing how much time and energy Kuroo had funneled into this program. It was essentially his pride and joy, and Kenma could only imagine how much it hurt him to have it taken away from him like this.
"Because of 'cutbacks' to 'reduce spending'," he growled. "Corporate bullshit. New management who swoops in and makes all of these changes without caring about why things were the way they were. It hasn't even been two weeks since they took over, but they've already made all of these policy changes that just make things harder for us."
Kenma stared down at Kuroo as he stopped talking, seemingly lost in his thoughts now. The streamer was beginning to understand what had triggered this, but he felt he was still missing a piece of the puzzle. His current behaviour was quite out of character for him, a side to him that Kenma had never seen before, or even expected. He had always done a relatively good job of managing stress, and while he had bad days, they had never been quite this bad. This program that Kuroo had built from the ground up was the thing he was the most passionate about, and he was so proud of the work he was doing, but Kenma had a nagging suspicion that there was more to it than what he had heard so far.
"There's more, isn't there," he voiced his thoughts, bringing Kuroo back out of his own head. Seeing the way his face darkened at the question, Kenma knew he was right again.
"Not only did they kill my program," Kuroo hissed, "they actually wrote me up for it. And when I tried to convince them why it was a good thing, and how it was working, they told me that I should be 'doing what I was hired to do', and if I continued to 'work outside the scope of my job description', I could 'run my program elsewhere'."
"They threatened to fire you over it?" Kenma asked incredulously, fully understanding the situation. Instead of responding, Kuroo once again sat up, leaning forward over his bent knees to grab the bottle of vodka and took a large gulp, ignoring the glass entirely.
"I poured everything I had into that," Kuroo sulked, "and not only have I lost it, I could lose my job, too. If I lose that, I'll have nothing left."
He turned to place the bottle on the table next to him— where his food was getting cold— and narrowly avoided dropping it on the floor when he missed the first time. Concerned, Kenma hastily stood and grabbed it, carrying it to the kitchen out of his drunken friend's reach.
"Hey! I wasn't done with that," Kuroo pouted, earning a half hearted glare from Kenma.
"If you keep this up, you're going to make yourself sick. You need to eat, Kuro," he sighed, returning to his spot on the couch. Kuroo scowled at the food beside him, as if contemplating whether or not it was worth eating right now. As the alcohol worked its way into his system, he was transitioning from depressed to throwing a tantrum, something Kenma could never have imagined before this. "Eat, Kuro," the gamer pressed, gently nudging his back.
"Fine," the taller man acquiesced, turning towards the food. Kenma—who had been snacking prior to Kuroo getting home from work— watched him for a moment, making sure he actually began eating before speaking next.
"Even if you were to lose your job, you won't have nothing, you know."
"That's easy for you to say," Kuroo groaned, flopping back against the couch as his speech became more slurred. "I'm almost 30 years old, and I'll be single for the rest of my life, while most of my friends are married, because I'm hopelessly in love with my best friend, so it's not like I can even meet someone else, and I don't even get to play professional volleyball like Bokuto, who's also married now! My youth program was what made me feel a sense of purpose, and now it's gone!"
Kenma gaped at Kuroo's rant, his mind frozen as he tried to process what Kuroo had just said. I'm hopelessly in love with my best friend. There were only two people that fit that description, and he knew that Kuroo hadn't been referring to Bokuto. He was vaguely aware of Kuroo's continued venting, but he couldn't process a single word that was said as his brain short-circuited.
His best friend? How can he be in love with his best friend? He can't be talking about Bokuto, right? He basically planned their wedding, or as much as Akaashi would let him anyway. So there's no way he's talking about Bokuto. But he definitely can't mean me, can he? He doesn't consider anyone else to be a best friend, specifically, so it has to be one of us that he's referring to. That doesn't make any sense, though. Surely I would have noticed if he meant me.
Wouldn't I?
"I'm happy for them, you know," Kuroo was saying, but Kenma had no idea who he was referring to now. "I really am, but at the same time, it's like, why can't I have that?"
"Nobody said life is fair," Kenma forced out, attempting to shove his existential crisis into a box in the back of his mind for the time being. Right now, Kuroo needed him, and everything else would have to wait. "Keep eating," he added when he realized Kuroo's food was still largely untouched.
"Life isn't fair!" Kuroo echoed, as if proving some sort of point. "They get to play all around the world," he ranted, "while I don't get to play at all, and all I do is work and come home."
Bokuto and Shoyo, then. "You meet up with friends all the time," Kenma reminded him with a sigh.
"That's not the point!" Kuroo moaned as he sat upright, suddenly remembering his food.
"Why did you choose to work for the JVA then? You could have played professionally," Kenma frowned at him, "but you chose not to. Why?" It was a conversation they'd had before, but he'd never been fully convinced that it was simply because he wanted to get more people to play volleyball.
"Because I didn't want to play without you," Kuroo whined in response.
The poorly packed box in Kenma's head burst open, sending him back into his existential crisis. Did he really give up a chance to play volleyball professionally… for me? Why would he do that? And why would he lie about it for all these years? None of this makes any sense!
"You could have played with Bokuto," Kenma pointed out as he tried to beat his panic back once more.
"But it wouldn't be the same," Kuroo was pouting now as he picked at his food. "We've always played together. And if I had to move away to play on a team, I wouldn't get to stay with you."
"You really gave up volleyball for me?" Kenma couldn't help but blurt out. This whole conversation had been a lot to process, but he couldn't stop himself from asking more.
"Yes!" Kuroo exclaimed. "No. Maybe? I don't know!"
"How do you not know," Kenma pressed. "When we were younger, you talked about how it was your dream to play on a global stage."
"I know, and it was," Kuroo groaned. "But I couldn't leave you, either. I was afraid that if I left, then I would lose you. And I can't lose you. I can settle for being your friend, but I couldn't live without you."
I can settle for being your friend, his brain helpfully replayed. I'm hopelessly in love with my best friend. I can settle for being your friend. Over and over, those two sentences echoed through his mind. He wanted to ask if those short sentences were connected to each other, but the words wouldn't come.
What if he is talking about me? What will happen to our friendship? Can things stay the same between us? Kenma began to panic, oblivious to what Kuroo was saying once more. What am I supposed to do with that? He's drunk, so maybe he's just saying that? No, Kenma shook his head, they call it liquid courage for a reason. I should just ask him. What do I do if he's talking about me?
What if he's not talking about me?
Instead of the panic continuing to grow as his thoughts spiraled out of control, he felt his stomach drop. He was baffled by the sudden shift of emotions as his chest clenched at this last unbidden thought. Why was that worse than the thought of Kuroo leaving when he couldn't live with his unrequited feelings anymore?
He's my best friend, why would I want him to mean me? That can't be right, it doesn't make any sense. Why do I want my best friend to say he's in love with me, it's not like I…
As Kenma's train of thought came to a screeching halt, it was thrown further off the rails as Kuroo laid down, settling his head on Kenma's lap once again and jolting the latter back to the present. Kenma looked down at Kuroo as he tried to compose himself. The taller man's eyes were closed, and he looked moments away from falling asleep.
"Kuro," Kenma croaked, his voice failing him as his head swam with panic. "You should go to bed. You're not going to feel good tomorrow."
"Mmm," Kuroo hummed in response, unmoving. "Don't wanna."
"You can't sleep like this," Kenma poked his cheek, "and neither can I. You need to go to bed. C'mon." To emphasize his point, he squirmed around, attempting to push Kuroo's head up with his legs and force him to sit up.
"Fiiiiine," he groaned as he pushed himself upright. With an exaggerated sigh, Kuroo swung his legs off the couch and climbed to his feet, swaying slightly. Kenma hurriedly stood up, placing a steadying hand on Kuroo's arm as he did.
"Let's get you to bed," Kenma pressed, fighting the urge to flinch away. He reminded himself that Kuroo was a tactile person, and right now he needed that physical contact, even as Kenma felt like he might burst into flames from it. Keep it together just a little bit longer, the streamer scolded himself. He looked down at the trays of food, noticing that Kuroo had actually eaten half of his meal, likely while Kenma was lost in his panicked thoughts. He guided Kuroo through his usual bedtime routine, making sure he was well hydrated before he finally climbed into bed. "G'night, Kuro," the gamer said softly, pulling the drunken man's bedroom door closed as he left the room.
In a daze, he made his way back to the living room, packing up what remained of Kuroo's food, as well as his own untouched meal, and placing them in the fridge. As he went about his own bedtime routine, he let his thoughts wander, trying to make sense of everything that was going through his head.
Could he really be talking… about me? Do I want him to be talking about me? I mean, why would I want my best friend to be in love with me? We've been in each other's lives for so long, maybe he was just confused about his feelings towards our friendship because he's drunk and he had a really bad day. And I'm just surprised about what he said because it was out of context. And I only feel upset because he has another best friend that I don't know about that he likes more than me. Right? That's got to be it. He meant it in a platonic way. And I'm definitely not in love with my best friend.
Kenma crawled under his covers as he continued his mental gymnastics. Deep down, he knew he was in denial, but his head was spinning so fast he was in denial about being in denial. There's nothing to be in denial about, he tried to tell himself. He meant it in a platonic way, and he's my best friend, nothing more. And I platonically love him in a best friend way. There's no way I'm in love with my best friend.
Am I?
Much to Kenma's surprise, he had fallen asleep shortly after settling into his bed. Apparently an emotional rollercoaster paired with an existential crisis and a dash of gay panic made for a great sleep. Upon waking, he had tossed and turned for a while as he continued to work through everything that had happened the previous night, eventually coming to a conclusion.
I'm in love with my best friend.
This, of course, created a whole new wave of anxiety to crash over the streamer as the 'what ifs' began to loop through his mind. What if he wasn't talking about me? What if he didn't mean it romantically? What if I say something, and he's actually interested in someone else? What if I say something, and he doesn't actually love me that way, and he leaves because he doesn't want to be around me anymore? What if this destroys our friendship?
Rather than continue to dwell on these thoughts, he'd forced himself out of bed, deciding to play video games until Kuroo woke up. There was only one way to put all of these thoughts to bed, and that was to ask Kuroo about it directly, now that he would have sobered up.
It was nearly noon before Kuroo stumbled out of his room, holding his head with one hand as he made a beeline for the cupboard that held their glasses, bottle of painkillers clenched in the other. Kenma quietly watched as he retrieved a cup, filling it with water from the tap and chugging it in one go. He refilled the glass, then turned to head towards the couch, spotting Kenma.
"Good morning, Kuro," the gamer greeted softly, knowing Kuroo had a killer headache to go with his hangover.
"How much did I drink last night," he groaned in response, placing his water on the side table and sitting down beside Kenma, head in his hands.
"About half a bottle of vodka," Kenma frowned.
"I'm so sorry," Kuroo turned to look at him, still holding his head up with his left hand. "Honestly, I don't remember most of last night. How bad was it?"
"Well," Kenma inhaled, knowing this was the best time to ask Kuroo about what he'd said. "You definitely said some things that we need to talk about."
"Oh no," Kuroo froze, fear etched on his face. "What… what did I say?" He asked cautiously.
"You said…" Kenma choked out, his own fear and anxiety creeping back in. "You said that… that you were in love with your best friend." He watched as the blood drained from Kuroo's face, a look of horror replacing the fear as he turned away, hiding his face in his hands. "And…" Kenma continued, determined to lay everything on the table. "You also said that you could settle for being my friend. Did you… are you… did… did you mean that you're in love with… me?"
Kenma waited anxiously for his response, forcing himself to stay seated when he wanted to hide in his room, afraid of what the answer would be.
"I—I don't— I don't remember," Kuroo stuttered, refusing to look at him. "Th—there must be context missing. We… we're just friends, right? Maybe you heard wrong," he ground out, and Kenma could swear his shoulders slumped slightly, though it was hard to tell from the way the taller man was currently sitting.
"Oh," was all Kenma could say as his chest clenched. I knew it. I knew he couldn't be in love with me. But why did he have to say that, and make me realize my own feelings? How am I supposed to live with that now? I'll never be able to see him as just my best friend again, now he's the person that I'm helplessly in love with. What do I do with this? How do I live with this?
"Kenma?" The gamer startled as Kuroo placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him with a concerned expression. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," he lied, "I'm just a little tired still. I think I'll go lay down for a bit." He gave his roommate a strained smile as he went to stand up, but Kuroo kept a hand on his shoulder, eyes wide.
"Wait," Kuroo said hastily. "Hypothetically…" he began, trailing off as he took a deep breath. "Hypothetically, what would you say if I said… that I was talking about you?" Kuroo flinched at his own words, as if expecting Kenma to react poorly.
What do I say? How do I answer that? This is my chance to tell him, but what if it's not true? And he's trying to get me to admit my feelings because he doesn't want to be around me if I have those kinds of feelings for him?
"Hypothetically," Kenma said, but his words died in his throat. He took a calming breath of his own before trying again, looking down at his hands as he fidgeted anxiously. "Hypothetically, I would say that you were wrong last night, and you wouldn't be single for the rest of your life. Hypothetically," he emphasized, though there was little point in pretending that he hadn't just confessed to his best friend.
"In that case," Kuroo replied, sounding relieved. Kenma risked a glance at him, only to freeze as he saw the wide smile the taller man was sporting. "Let's drop the hypotheticals. I don't know exactly what I said, but that much was true. I realized a few years ago that I was hopelessly in love with you, but I didn't want to ruin our friendship, so I never said anything. I couldn't risk losing you," he echoed his sentiments from the previous night.
"Did you realize that before," Kenma asked out of curiosity, "or after you gave up a volleyball career for me?"
"How much did I say last night?" Kuroo groaned, turning away as he covered his face.
"You told me that you gave up your dream of playing professional volleyball on a global stage because you didn't want to risk losing me if you had to move away, and because you didn't want to play without me." Kenma frowned, still unsure how he felt about this particular piece of information. While he was glad that Kuroo had chosen to stay by his side, he couldn't help the guilt that came with that revelation.
"I don't regret it," Kuroo sighed a moment later, looking at Kenma once more. "I don't want to play without you. Yes, that was my dream when we were kids," he continued, reaching out a hand to gently lift Kenma's face as he looked down at his lap. "But then I found a new dream."
"That's so cheesy," Kenma wrinkled his nose, but couldn't help the fond smile that was spreading across his own face.
"My point," Kuroo grinned, "is that you don't need to feel like you got in the way of my dream. I made my own choice, and I don't regret it."
"You know me too well," Kenma chuckled.
"Not well enough, apparently," Kuroo sighed, tugging Kenma's sleeve, "because I didn't realize you felt the same way I do."
"To be fair," Kenma countered, shifting closer to Kuroo, "I only realized last night that I feel this way. I had no idea you felt that way, and I thought my feelings towards you were strictly platonic."
"I guess we're not as good as reading each other as we thought," Kuroo laughed. He pulled one leg up as he turned, stretching it out behind Kenma as he pulled the latter closer. Kenma turned so his back was towards Kuroo, wiggling backwards between the taller man's legs as Kuroo wrapped his arm's around Kenma's smaller frame. Kenma relaxed into the embrace, resting against Kuroo's chest as they settled into their favourite cuddling position.
"Here's a silver lining to your program being shut down," Kenma mumbled. "If you hadn't been so upset that you drank yourself stupid, we probably wouldn't have figured this out."
"Like they say," Kuroo smirked, pressing a kiss to the top of Kenma's head, "when one door closes, another one opens."