What a lot of people don’t notice, Kuroo muses as he rests his chin on his hand, sitting opposite Kenma at their usual table at their usual cafe, is that Kenma is really pretty.
Their classmates, for example—they focus on his gloomy posture and inability to make eye contact and mostly inaudible mumbling, and completely miss the fact that he’s prettier than most of the girls in their school.
Kuroo could stare all day at Kenma’s small face, his golden eyes with that slightly feline tilt, his delicately pointed chin, his pink lips. Even his hair, with the darker roots growing out, falls silky and smooth around his face.
In fact, Kuroo has spent all day staring at Kenma, on more than one occasion. Once Kenma switches on his game console, Kuroo is pretty much free to do whatever he wants, such as staring obsessively at his best friend’s face, his nimble fingers, his slender wrists, the curve of his body from his narrow shoulders to his small waist—
“You’re staring again,” Kenma murmurs, not looking up from his game.
Kuroo grins around the straw in his mouth. “Didn’t think you’d notice. The new game isn’t that great, huh?”
“I always notice,” Kenma says, a small frown appearing between his brows as his character dies a gruesome, bloody death. “This game is okay.” He reboots from his save file.
“Well, you’ve got your game, I gotta have something to do to pass the time too,” Kuroo says, slurping his drink loudly.
“I can’t tell if that’s soda dribbling out of your mouth, or drool,” Kenma mutters, his nose wrinkling slightly in disgust.
Kuroo loves Kenma’s disgusted expressions. For someone so stoic, he has a great repertoire of disgusted faces, and Kuroo has catalogued all of them. There’s the I hate you for making me do a physical activity face, the how have you survived past childhood when you’re too stupid to live face, and also the your sweaty socks are a weapon of mass destruction face, among others. Kuroo’s favourite, though, has to be the god Kuro why are you so embarassing face, because it’s one that’s just for him and nobody else (not even Lev, who has been lucky enough to be on the receiving end of every other one of Kenma’s disgusted faces).
Kuroo’s favourite expression is the one Kenma is making now, and Kuroo knows he’s got it real bad because just the sight of it gives him butterflies in his stomach. If that isn’t true love, then what is? (Also, Kuroo desperately wants to kiss Kenma. Like all over. That’s probably another sign that he’s in love, but whatever.)
“Don’t worry, it’s definitely drool,” Kuroo reassures him, snagging a napkin and wiping haphazardly at his own face.
Kenma just rolls his eyes and goes back to his game. Kuroo takes that as the dismissal it is, and gets up and refills his soda at the drink bar. After perusing the twenty types of tea leaves available, he picks the one Kenma always drinks and makes another cup of tea.
“Thanks,” Kenma mutters when Kuroo places the steaming cup in front of him, nudging his empty cup to the side.
“No probs,” Kuroo answers easily, and brushes a loose strand of Kenma’s hair away from his face before sitting down again on the other side of the table. He pops the new straw into his mouth, chewing on the end of it more than drinking through it, and goes back to his favourite activity of staring at Kenma.
Kenma’s cheeks are flushed a soft pink, and his lips are slightly parted. His eyes are fixed on the screen though, his fingers flying over the buttons, and when triumphant music blares from the small speakers a moment later, Kuroo knows he’s just cleared the boss level. He also knows that the blush has nothing to do with the excitement of beating a new game.
Kuroo isn’t the only one in love, and he knows that one day, when he’s ready, Kenma will be looking right back at him.
In the meantime, he’s happy to stare at Kenma while they sit at their usual table at their usual cafe, safe in the knowledge that only he notices how pretty Kenma is, and only he gets to see every single one of Kenma’s disgusted faces.