Chapter Text
”Just a second, Yumi.”
With some effort, Koutarou detaches his keychain from his gym bag—the ring is really hard and it’s not like he has any nails to dig in there—and attaches it to a belt loop instead.
”I’m back,” he says, switching the phone into his left hand as he gets into his jacket. ”Had to move my key chain.”
On the other end of the line, Fuyumi laughs. ”Why do you use that thing?”
”What?” Koutarou locks the door and shoves the keys into his back pocket. ”My keychain? So I won’t lose my keys, obviously.”
”But have you ever lost your keys?”
”Nah, but I came close one time.” Koutarou starts jogging down the stairs from his apartment.
”Just seems pretty inconvenient, I guess.”
”It’s not, it’s awesome!”
Fuyumi snorts. ”Alright, if you say so. You had something you wanted to talk about?”
Right.
Heaving a sigh, Koutarou says, ”Uh, yeah, I did…” Pushing the front door open, he steps out into a mild evening. Above the high-rises across the street, the sky is purple. ”Wasn’t it going to rain tonight?”
”Tomorrow,” says Fuyumi.
***
”Oh, and I think Washio and Yukie are, like, a thing now.”
”Kou,” Fuyumi says, huffing at Koutarou through the phone. ”You sounded pretty serious earlier when you said you needed to talk. And as much as I’d love to hear all about Washio and Yukie and how your run went today and what you’re eating tomorrow, it seems like you’re avoiding the real thing here.”
Seeing as Koutarou has been hanging around at a tiny playground a couple blocks from Kuroo’s place for the last twenty minutes, he can’t say she’s wrong. He sits on top of a red slide, tapping the toes of his shoes against the paled plastic of its edge. ”Yeah…”
Fuyumi makes some sort of sympathetic sound. ”You finally going to tell me what’s been up with you?”
”Can I tell you sort of hypothetically?”
”However you want to, baby bro.”
”Alright.” Koutarou slides down the little slide and when his feet hit the ground, he lies back against the uncomfortable plastic. Up there in the sky, there’s the bright white moon, and Koutarou says, ”So there’s someone I think I might have a chance with.”
”Oh-kay,” Fuyumi says slowly. ”Is there a problem somewhere in that sentence?”
Oh, yes, there is a problem. A pretty big one, as a matter of fact.
”Uh, so maybe this person isn’t entirely…available.”
Koutarou brings his free hand to cover his face and groans into it. His sister is silent on the line.
”I see,” is her eventual response, and it’s super not-comforting.
”Look,” Koutarou blurts. ”Maybe this person is in a relationship with someone I’m pretty close with.”
”Kou, oh my god,” Fuyumi groans.
”I know,” Koutarou groans back. He sits up to rest his forehead in his hand and stares down at the sand beneath his feet. It’s blue in the dark. ”Can you just reassure me that you won’t be mad at me if I pull sort of an asshole move and you’ll still love me a lot?”
”Of course I’ll still love you, Kou.” Fuyumi sighs, mixed with a chuckle. "It’s just…it’s usually the friendships that last.”
Getting up from the damn slide, Koutarou shakes his head at himself, because what was he expecting? A go-ahead to mess up a friendship? Fuyumi barely knows who Keiji is, let alone how special he’s come to be to Koutarou. He’s not a kid anymore, anyway, it’s his life to what he wants with. And he knows what he wants.
”I love you too,” he says.
She hums. ”Is this about Washio and Yukie?”
A chuckle escapes Koutarou as he pushes open the little gate to the playground. ”No, Yumi, it’s not about Washio and Yukie.”
It’s worse.
***
”Bokuto!”
The apartment Koutarou used to live in is crowded with people and full of pizza, slices in hands everywhere and boxes stacked on top of each other on the coffee table. Koutarou grabs a slice before walking to Washio, who called him over.
”Hey.”
His old Fukurodani teammate is sitting on the old, blue couch next to Kenma, and upon seeing the puddinghead, Koutarou finds himself pulling him into a quick, but tight, hug. Poor guy. Then he drops down to sit on the floor in front of them.
”I guess Kuroo told you what happened,” Kenma says, and while his expression is blank, he did half-heartedly return the hug, which was beyond any expectations.
”Yeah.” Koutarou grimaces. ”That sucks, man.”
Kenma shrugs. ”I don’t really want to talk about it.”
It being the fact that his parents are apparently splitting, and not in a pretty way—Kuroo had filled Koutarou in over the phone when he invited him here tonight.
”That’s alright!” It’s not like Koutarou particularly wants to talk about it himself—he just really wants to give his own family epic hugs when he sees them in two weeks. Clapping a hand onto Washio’s shoulder, Koutarou suggests, ”How about we talk about this guy’s love life? Yukie coming tonight?”
Washio blushes all the way up to his hairline. ”Uh, no, she couldn’t make it.”
It stirs up jealousy, listening to Washio talk. Seeing his bashful smile as he lets Koutarou and Kenma know how he and Yukie have apparently had crushes on each other ever since Fukurodani and how they’ve now decided they’ll be together. Just like that. They were ready, they were single and it was easy.
Other situations are complicated, like the one where Koutarou has to keep from staring at Keiji at the corner of the dining table on the other side of the room, where he’s talking to Konoha. There are dark circles under his eyes, but as he speaks, his hands make small, but sharp, movements that signal that he’s enjoying himself. He’s gone for a glass of water today. And that burnt orange cable-knit sweatshirt looks fantastic on him.
***
”Bo!”
This feeling of being cornered whenever his best friend comes to talk to him is new.
”Hey,” Koutarou says, opening cabinets to look for a glass for his orange juice. Kuroo and Kenma have rearranged since he lived here.
Leaning his hip against the counter next to Koutarou, Kuroo says, ”I wanted to say, I was in sort of a weird headspace yesterday, I don’t know if I thanked you for getting Kaashi home. So, thanks.”
Koutarou can still taste artificial cotton candy flavor on his lips. He finally finds a glass and pours the orange juice into it.
”No problem.”
”And thanks for coming tonight. I really wanted to remind Kenma that he still has a family of friends, no matter what.”
”Don’t thank me, I’m here for the food.”
Kuroo chuckles. ”God, I can’t help but be relieved. I mean, it’s awful that his parents are splitting, but I was starting to think all sorts of things might be going on. Like, way worse things.”
”You’re a good friend.”
Unlike me.
”Thanks.” Kuroo releases a long sigh. ”But after tonight, I think I’ll pull back a little. Now that I know what’s going on.”
”Sounds…healthy.”
”Yeah. I’ll finally feel free to put all my attention on my relationship.”
”Oh, yeah?”
If you’re lucky enough to be dating Keiji, maybe you should’ve been doing that all along, Koutarou thinks, but that’s just his opinion. And it’s not like he has a leg to stand on right now when it comes to right and wrong. What’s he even doing fucking judging Kuroo? Who’s done nothing wrong but be worried about his oldest childhood friend.
”Yeah. I mean, he’s been great through this, always understanding, you know? But I still feel like we’ve been drifting a bit.”
Koutarou takes a sip of orange juice and it feels sickly sweet on his tongue. Working real hard to keep his voice even, he asks, ”You have?”
”Yeah,” Kuroo sighs. ”I think I’ll ask him on a trip or something, so we can just get closer and, you know…” A crooked smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. ”Fuck.”
Koutarou chugs the orange juice like it’s beer and he’s trying to win something. ”You know what, I’m actually gonna head out now,” he says and when he puts his glass in the sink, it clangs loudly against another one. ”I have practice tomorrow and yesterday was pretty late.”
Kuroo nods. ”Alright.”
”Thanks for the pizza,” Koutarou says as he grabs a slice on his way to the hallway. He doesn’t have any idea how many he’s had by now and his stomach’s starting to feel queasy. Has he been stress eating?
Since when does he stress eat?
The backs of his sneakers bend when Koutarou tries to shove his feet into them and he has to bend down ad fucking fix the—
”Bokuto-san?”
Koutarou freezes. Then he doesn’t even try to fight the smile that pulls at his lips as he straightens up and turns around. ”Yeah? Hey!”
”Hi,” Keiji says with a small smile, looking all the more gorgeous and enticing now that Koutarou’s gotten a taste of what it’s really like to be close to him.
”Hey,” Koutarou says again. ”Are you feeling better today?”
Keiji nods. ”All better. I’ve been drinking water tonight, though.”
”Yeah, I noticed.”
God, he’s cute, Koutarou thinks as Keiji exhales sharply and a blush rises to tint his cheeks.
”Thank you for getting me home last night,” Keiji ventures, tone tentative.
My pleasure, Koutarou almost says. ”Anytime,” he actually says, which isn’t as inappropriate and dripping with innuendo.
”Um,” Keiji says, and bends down to rummage through a pile of bags and jackets on the entryway floor.
Being only human, Koutarou stares at his ass.
Keiji digs out a white plastic bag and hands it to Koutarou. It rustles as he peeks into it to find his old favorite hoodie—that isn’t supposed to his anymore—folded as neatly as if it had come straight from a store.
”I washed it,” Keiji says. ”It had a, um, toothpaste stain.”
Koutarou tilts his head to one side and lifts his eyebrows. ”I gave this to you, though.”
”I can’t hold you to that, Bokuto-san.” Keiji gives a quick shake of his head. ”I was quite intoxicated… And you’d been drinking as well.”
”I mean, sure, but…I still meant it.”
”You did?” Keiji asks under his breath and holds Koutarou’s gaze.
”Yeah…” Koutarou swallows, and says roughly, ”I think things that happen when you’re drunk…still count.”
”Oh,” Keiji breathes. ”Um…” He grabs the bag back from Koutarou and their fingers brush. Brush and linger. ”Then I’ll…keep this.”
”You should.”
”Thank you.”
”Looks better on you, anyway.”
Keiji snorts softly and averts his eyes. Always so cute. ”Are you headed home?” he asks.
”Uh, yeah I was—”
”Bokuto! You’re leaving already?” Konoha comes bounding into the entryway wielding a slice of pizza. ”Oh, there you are, Akaashi!”
***
In the photo, Keiji’s wearing red contact lenses, make-up to make the skin beneath his eyes look cracked, a heap of eyeliner and fake fangs. Oikawa’s wearing the same thing, cheek squished against his, and they’re making vampire faces at the camera.
Koutarou takes a bite out of his sandwich.
After Keiji’s best friend sent him a follow request on Instagram, Koutarou has been hard at work scrolling all the way back to Halloween two years ago. Oikawa seems to like taking pictures of his friends almost as much as he seems to love taking them of himself, and he’s skilled at it. His photos of Keiji are especially great.
Koutarou’s ringtone starts blaring and Bro<3 pops up at the top of his screen alongside buttons for calling or declining the call. Koutarou clicks nothing and continues his scrolling hunt for pictures of the boy he likes. When the call goes away, he lets out a slow, loud exhale.
And then there’s another one.
Shoving the rest of his sandwich into his mouth, Koutarou gets up from the kitchen table. He tosses himself onto the couch before he accepts the call, then puts it on speaker and drops the phone onto his sternum.
”Hey,” he says, still chewing.
”He broke up with me.”
Almost choking on his bite of sandwich, Koutarou sits up and bangs on his chest. ”What?” he croaks.
”Akaashi broke up with me,” Kuroo clarifies, quietly and unnecessarily.
Koutarou heard him the first time. Ho-ly hell. All of a sudden, his heart’s banging adrenaline through his body and, God, he needs to calm down, but this…is not unwelcome news, he won’t lie.
”Shit, Kuroo. That, uh, fucking sucks. Uh… How’re you holding up?”
”I’m just fucking angry.”
”Oh, uh…Alright…?”
Shit, did he find out about the kiss somehow? Keiji wouldn’t have told him, not without letting Koutarou know, he wouldn’t do that. And it’s not like he can know where Koutarou’s heart is at. No one knows that but him.
Although, he’s starting to think it might be time he lets one more person know.
”I fucked up,” Kuroo says tonelessly.
”Oh,” Koutarou says, understanding.
”What’s my fucking problem?” Restless desperation is creeping into Kuroo’s voice; he sounds borderline panicked. ”Why did I have to act like Kenma’s my kid? I’m not his fucking dad! He’s in his twenties, he’s his own fucking responsibility! I’m just…I really fucked up.”
Koutarou takes a deep breath. How in the world did he end up in this hell of a messed up situation? What actually were the odds? ”Did he, uh, say why? Don’t just put the blame on yourself.”
”He barely said anything. All he said was that he’d thought it through, and just wasn’t feeling it enough or something. He was super nice about it, of course, but he didn’t actually say anything.”
Koutarou tries to make the sort of sympathetic sound he likes to hear from his sisters when he’s upset. And he gets up off the couch.
”Damn it.”
”Kuroo…”
Koutarou grabs his keys and leans back against the wall. God, things are such a fucking mess already, and his plan of action is to make them fucking worse? He supposes it is, because what’s the smooth, moral way out of this? Wait a year? Ask Kuroo for permission? Wait a year and then ask permission? That would just be fake anyway, because it’s not like Koutarou would give it up if Kuroo said no.
”And I’m pissed at Kenma, too, even though I know it’s unfair, it’s just…He really made me worry, you know? And then when I heard what it was I felt relieved, but now I’m almost pisses that it wasn’t something worse. Feels like I ruined something great for nothing. But then, I’m just being unfair, cause who am I to decide if Kenma’s overrea—”
”I get it,” Koutarou interrupts. ”If you’re mad, you’re mad. You’re not being unfair, you just have feelings.”
”Yeah…” It’s quiet on the other end for a bit. ”Hey, do you think you could come over? I kind of want to play Counter-Strike and think about nothing else for a couple hours.”
”I’m sorry,” Koutarou says. ”I can’t.” Look, he knows he’s being more than a little fucked up right now, but it’s not like he’s the person most fit to be comforting Kuroo, anyway. ”I have a family thing.”
”Alright,” Kuroo sighs. ”Say hi to your sisters from me.”
”I will.” Grabbing his jacket, Koutarou opens the front door. ”Take care…”
”Thanks. Bye.”
The beeps indicating the end of the call come with a wash of relief, and a surge of pretty damn hopeful feelings that were only held back by the guilt brought about by Kuroo’s voice.
***
When thunder rumbles in the distance, Koutarou looks up from locking his bike and finds the darkening evening sky an ominous gray.
He’d forgotten about the rain.
In the light summer jacket he should’ve exchanged for something thicker by this time of year, he leaves his bike and walks the short way to the front door. Punches in the code he finally got to learn.
Hand gripping the railing, he slowly takes the stairs. A stressed suit-clad man carrying a briefcase comes running down the stairs and passes Koutarou like whirlwind. After the front door closes behind him and locks with a click, there’s just quiet.
Nothing but the subtle whirring of a house as Koutarou runs a hand through his hair and rings the doorbell.
It feels like it’s forever, the time in which the door is not fucking opening. Turning this way and that on the spot, Koutarou keeps running his hands through his hair and then almost jumps when he hears a door open. But when he spins around it’s the door next to Keiji’s, and suddenly a mom and her crying toddler are in the hallway with him. Koutarou rings the bell again.
What if he looked through the keyhole and he’s pretending not to be home?
Okay, what the fuck? None of that.
Koutarou has never been a paranoid guy and he’s not planning on becoming one now. Keiji’s not home and that’s it. For sure, that’s a bummer, as Koutarou’s fucking dying to see him and find out if something’s going to happen between them or not, and he’s going a bit crazy with hope and fear and all that at the moment. Who knows what’s going on inside Keiji’s beautiful head, after all? But it’s what it is.
He starts down the stairs. He’ll have to call him, or something and sure, that won’t be as romantic, and Koutarou will have to wait to see him, and run on adrenaline for a bit longer, but that’s life. He’ll go back home and he’ll call him.
When Koutarou gets back outside, rain is beyond pouring. Like the entire fucking sky is falling. Fuck. And staying is not an option, because Koutarou will not call Keiji and say Can I see you? I’m at your place. That’s sort of creepy. And being here when Keiji gets back because I was avoiding the rain is even creepier.
After a five second run to his bike, Koutarou is already soaked to what feels like the bone. He digs his keys out of his back pocket and crouches at the weird angle required to unlock the thing when they’re attached to his jeans. Of course, the key jams and gets stuck. And that’s bound to be only the beginning of the misery the bike ride home is going to be.
The rain stops.
Or, it doesn’t. Not really. It only stops for Koutarou.
Because there’s Keiji. Dry and beautiful in front of him, covering them both with one of the translucent umbrellas Koutarou gave to him. He’s wearing a brown tartan scarf today, and Koutarou’s never seen him in a scarf before. Makes Koutarou want to know everything about him.
”Keiji. You’re here.”
Smiling a small smile, Keiji says, ”This is where I live, Bokuto-san.”
”Yeah,” Koutarou breathes, apparently struck stupid. The rain pouring down loud and heavy around them makes it feel like the rest of the world doesn’t exist.
”Do you want to come inside?” Keiji tugs at his bottom lip with his teeth. "To dry up.”
”Yeah!” Coming inside to dry up sounds…very interesting. ”Thanks.”
With some violence, and doing the weird acrobatics required, Koutarou manages to get the bike key out of the lock. Probably not his sexiest moment.
”You don’t have to use that, you know?” Keiji says softly.
”What?” Koutarou smiles down at the key chain in his hand. At the little blue surf board where the paint’s already starting to get worn off. "No, I love it.”
This statement gets a skeptical raise of the eyebrow.
”You gave it to me.”
Keiji exhales sharply and his cheeks go pink. ”Let’s go inside.”
Once the door closes and the world is shut out, Keiji quietly says, ”You’re soaked,” and with careful hands, he helps Koutarou out of his jacket, fingers grazing his neck and leaving his skin tingling. ”How come you, um, came here?” he asks into the little space between them.
Koutarou swallows. ”Heard you broke up.”
”Yeah,” Keiji breathes, sliding the jacket down Koutarou’s arms and standing only centimeters from him in order to do it.
A lock of hair has fallen into the centre of his forehead. Out of place from how he wears it, but it doesn’t feel out of place at all. It feels like the perfect invitation for Koutarou to lift his hand and brush it back—
Just as his fingers graze soft black lock, Keiji spins away from him, shoulder bumping into Koutarou’s chest. Grabbing a hanger, he determinedly puts Koutarou’s jacket onto it and hangs it up. Then he takes heavy backwards steps and comes to lean against the front door with a sigh.
”I don’t want to come between you and…” he says defeatedly.
It’s sweet that he cares about Koutarou and Kuroo’s friendship. Koutarou loves that caring side of him. But sometimes, there are shitty situations where you can’t have everything and all there is to do is to make a choice and accept whatever consequences it might bring. Know what you want more. And Koutarou knows what he wants more.
”You’re broken up.” He walks up to Keiji, even closer than they were a minute ago, and brushes that damn lock of hair back. Revels in Keiji’s sharp intake of breath. ”That’s as good as things are going to get with this.”
”But it’s so messy, it could ruin so much for you, maybe you and I, um, could b-be, uh…”
The way Keiji stumbles over his words and loses track of them when Koutarou braces a hand against the hard surface of the door, caging him in, might be the most adorable thing Koutarou’s ever seen.
”Just friends,” Keiji finishes breathlessly.
Koutarou brushes the backs of his first and second fingers down Keiji’s rosy cheek and lets his hand travel all the way down to his waist where he finds a sliver of skin between Keiji’s shirt and his jeans. Leaning in close enough to smell lavender shampoo, he asks lowly, ”Just friends?”
Keiji nods unconvincingly. ”Yeah.” He puts his hands on Koutarou’s chest as if to push him away, but ends wrapping his arms around his neck instead. Cute. ”Just friends.”
”Sure.” Koutarou puts his hands on Keiji’s waist and pulls them flush together; the way they’re supposed to be. He hikes the hem of Keiji’s shirt up with his thumbs and slides his right hand to the small of Keiji’s back. Splays it out over his smooth, warm skin and presses them even closer together. Keiji tightens his hold on Koutarou’s neck and tilts his head back until their lips align and Koutarou can feel the warmth of his shaky breathing. Wanting to feel even more, Koutarou leans in. ”Let’s do that,” he murmurs, their lips brushing.
And kisses him.
It’s sober, it’s intentional, and it’s the end of Koutarou pretending as if there were ever any doubt as to who Keiji belonged with like this. Pressing him up against the door, Koutarou can feel Keiji giving in to him completely. Sighing against his lips. Letting him lead the kiss. Leaning into Koutarou’s hold on his waist and squeezing him closer at the same time.
When Koutarou slides his hands down to finally feel what he’s been staring at for months, and Keiji moans into his mouth, it’s suddenly Technicolor clear that there’s too much pent up between them for this to stop at kissing. ”Bedroom,” Koutarou mumbles and Keiji responds by jumping onto him and letting him carry him there.
Koutarou kicks open the door to Keiji’s room, where he’s never been before. Seems nice, and he’s sure it is, but he’ll have to explore it another time. He can think of more important things to do right now.
Like tossing Keiji onto the bed. Koutarou crawls on top of him and gives him a long, deep kiss before sitting up to rip his shirt off, flexing as he does and throwing it wherever. It’s a tried and tested move, but Koutarou thinks this might be the show all the other times have been leading up to. Never been so good to look this good.
It’s especially gratifying when Keiji’s eyes go wide, and he lets out a small, embarrassed groan before covering his face with a hand.
”What?” Koutarou rips that hand away, and holds it captive above Keiji’s head. ”You like my body or something?”
”Yes, I do,” Keiji breathes, and greedily runs his free hand over Koutarou’s chest.
For Koutarou, it's his first time with a man, but he’ll figure it out. He does already have quite some experience with anal, he has stamina for days and he’s done some research.
And besides, it's emotional connection above everything, isn’t it?
***
There’s a mercury lamp outside Keiji’s window, and through the blinds that haven’t been properly closed, stripes of light fall onto his face. Onto the lips Koutarou spent all night kissing. Onto the eyes that are closed now, but were wide open a couple of hours ago, dark blue and staring into Koutarou’s as he fingered Keiji open.
Careful not to rouse him, Koutarou brushes his fingers through the soft strands that frame Keiji’s face. It’s hard to resist waking him, though. Because while the sex they had was definitely encouragingly emotional, they haven't clarified anything, and Koutarou wants the unsaid said. Wants to really be Keiji’s boyfriend, or whatever.
There’s the sound of the door unlocking. What? Then shutting. Which is weird because Keiji’s roommate is supposed to be away for the next week, as well.
Sliding out of bed, Koutarou struggles to locate his discarded clothing on the floor in the darkness. Picking up his jeans, his boxers and his t-shirt that’s still not completely dry from the rain, Koutarou gets dressed quietly and braves leaving Keiji’s cozy bedroom cocoon. Kuroo doesn’t have a key here, does he?
Koutarou’s shoulders come down when he finds not Kuroo, but Oikawa, leaning against the front door where things began between Koutarou and Keiji last night and typing on his phone wearing a goofy grin. The blue light of the screen illuminates his face from below and his white angel wings dangle from his left hand. He doesn’t even notice Koutarou until he clears his throat.
When he does look up, his eyes go extremely wide. ”Oh, my,” he says. ”What an interesting, yet not entirely unexpected turn of events.”
Koutarou scratches the back of his head, pleased to get yet another hint that Keiji’s been talking about him. ”You’re…still here?”
Oikawa nods, the goofy smile making its way back onto his face. He’s wearing the white pants he wore at the Halloween party and a big dark green hoodie beneath his jacket. ”I am.”
”That guy from the club?”
”Yeah…” Even though it shouldn’t be possible, Oikawa’s grin widens. ”I don’t know, I was supposed to go back home yesterday, but I rebooked my train, I just…He’s great.”
”Yeah?”
”I sort of miss him already, it’s a little crazy. He’s so sweet, a tsundere marshmallow, you know?” Oikawa winks. ”And we had great sex.”
Koutarou snorts a chuckle. ”Congrats.”
Tilting his head to the side, Oikawa says, ”Tell me, Bokuto-san, did you, perhaps, also have great sex last night?”
Keiji’s arms giving out. The curve of his ass with his face down in the pillow. A sheen of sweat on his back and Koutarou’s hands digging into his waist. Muffled, broken moans.
”I have faith in my bestie’s skills,” Oikawa says seriously, almost warningly, when Koutarou fails to say anything.
”Uh, your faith is well placed,” Koutarou reassures.
”Of course it is.” Oikawa rolls his eyes flippantly. Then his demeanor changes to something more somber and he says, ”It’s a pretty sticky situation you’re in, though.”
”It’s what it is.”
”But, you’re serious about him, right?”
It’s important to Koutarou that Keiji’s best friend can trust him, so he tries to let a serious tone convey his…devotion. ”I am. I mean, as serious as he wants me to be.”
”Good. I’ve got to hurry and gather up my things, so I don’t miss my train.” Walking towards Keiji’s roommate’s room, Oikawa asks, ”You think you could sneak in and get my charger from Keiji’s room? It’s the black one in the socket by the window.”
”You’re not going to say goodbye?”
His fluffy hair flops about as Oikawa shakes his head. ”I think he’d like to wake up with you.”
***
After a long, suspended time, the sky begins to lighten. And the dark-haired boy sleeping next to Koutarou starts to stir, darks lashes pressing together as he scrunches up his eyes and a rough, sleepy rumble coming from his lips. His hand is resting by his head, palm up, and as he blinks his eyes open, Koutarou rolls onto his side and interlaces their fingers. Perfect fit.
”Good morning,” Koutarou whispers and runs his thumb along the side of Keiji’s.
Puffy dark blue eyes blink at Koutarou and the hand in his wakes up and squeezes back. Without letting go of that hand, Koutarou pushes himself closer to kiss Keiji good morning. He sort of meant for it to be a sweet, chaste thing, but when Keiji opens his mouth and offers up his tongue, Koutarou happily reciprocates. It’s early morning bliss. Until he feels something wet against his cheek.
He pulls back to see a couple quiet tears traveling down Keiji’s cheeks. ”Hey, what’s wrong?”
”I’m just…” Keiji shakes his head and runs the back of his hand across his eyes. ”I’m so sorry.”
Koutarou puts a hand on his upper arm and rubs his thumb back and forth across Keiji’s skin. ”Sorry about what?”
”Everything. I’ve been so dumb, I should’ve broken things off with Kuroo ages ago. It was just…” Keiji scrunches up his nose up and squeezes his eyes shut, then covers his whole face with his hand. ”I didn’t know if you liked me like that and I was just thinking about how stupid I’d feel if I ended what was probably the best relationship I’ve been in because I fell for some straight guy.”
Fell for.
”That’s not stupid,” Koutarou says quietly, and gently moves Keiji’s hand away from his face. ”It’s not like I told you how I felt.”
”Still,” Keiji sighs, his eyes now puffy with tears as well as sleep. ”I should’ve realized that it could never have worked with anybody else, anyway. Not when I felt so…”
”Felt so what?” Koutarou grins, because how can he not when Keiji’s basically confessing his feelings?
”Bokuto-san. The first time I met you I said I wouldn’t come between you two.”
Koutarou runs his fingers through Keiji’s hair, traces the shell of his ear. ”Things change. I didn’t exactly see this one coming either.”
”He’s your best friend—”
”Hey,” Koutarou interrupts. His hand stills and he looks steadily into Keiji’s eyes, hoping he can get the message through. ”I’ve thought this through. This is like all I’ve been thinking about lately.”
”You could change your mind.”
”I won’t,” Koutarou says firmly.
”But what if we don’t work out?” Keiji asks, his eyes big and pleading and uncertain.
”It’s would still be worth it to me.” Koutarou’s not uncertain at all. ”A chance at something with you would still be worth it.”
Then Keiji’s kissing him. Messily and breathlessly, with his fingers tangling in Koutarou’s hair as he pulls him closer and tasting way too good for someone who just woke up.
”What was that for?” Koutarou pants when Keiji pulls back.
”I just feel like I was making it sound like I don’t want to be with you. But I do. I want that so much.”
”Me too,” Koutarou says, and starts to lean down to kiss him more, because kissing Keiji feels like the only way he can channel what he feels upon hearing that.
”I just don’t want to ruin your life,” Keiji says before their lips touch, pouting and half-jokingly. Only half, though.
Pressing his lips to Keiji’s forehead, Koutarou reassures, ”You won’t.” He rolls onto his back and pulls Keiji with him, tracing patterns across the smooth skin of his naked back. ”I will be sad about Kuroo, but I’m okay with that. I’ll tell him straight up and he’ll be angry. And he gets to be angry. After that…that's up to him if he ever wants to be friends again, but either way, I can handle it.”
”You’re sure?”
”Yes, Keiji.” Koutarou shakes his head and lets out a chuckle-sigh. ”Look, I don’t know what happens when I’m with you, but I think you feel it too, and the only way I’m giving that up is if you don’t want me.” A kiss on Keiji’s lips as punctuation. ”Okay?”
Their noses knock painfully together when Keiji dives in for another punctuating kiss. ”Okay, Bokuto-san.”
There we go.
The sheets rustle as Koutarou maneuvers Keiji onto his back again and presses him into the mattress. With his hair splayed out on the pillow, the blanket slipping off his naked chest and staring into Koutarou’s eyes with a smile on his kiss-red lips, he looks heavenly. Like the most precious thing Koutarou could have.
”So do you want me?”
”I do,” Keiji says, and they interlace their fingers, braid them together one by one. ”I want you very much.”
”Alright, then it’s you and I, Keiji.”
”You and I, Bokuto-san.”
”That’s Koutarou to you,” Koutarou says, mock-stern.
Keiji lets out a giggle. ”Okay, Kou.”
”Kou?” Koutarou laughs and slides his hand down to Keiji’s warm waist. ”Straight from Bokuto-san to a nickname? Wild.”
”I can be wild,” Keiji says sexily.
Koutarou gets a firm grip on his thigh and hikes his leg up, pressing a kiss to the inside of his knee and lingering in the scent of his skin. ”I know you can.”
”Right now, though, I’m, um…” Keiji bites his lip and runs sweet fingers through Koutarou’s hair. ”…sort of in the mood for slow, romantic sex.”
Koutarou swallows. ”You got it,” he says, and presses another slow, devoted kiss to his new lover's knee. With Keiji naked in his arms, offering himself up and asking for it, Koutarou feels defenseless like he’s never felt before. And as he meets his vulnerable, dark blue, spellbinding gaze, all he can think is that he’d do anything for him. ”I’ve got you.”