Kenma/Kuroo, One-sided love
The first time Kuroo says it, he’s met with silence and Kenma’s cat-eyed stare, the one he usually reserves for volleyball and particularly difficult levels -- the one that means he has a problem to solve. Kuroo waits, as he has learned to do, but he’s still Kuroo so when the silence stretches on too long he repeats himself.
“I said I love you.”
Sure enough, this has the intended effect of startling Kenma out of his stare. Kenma blinks, flicks his eyes to the side.
“How do you feel about that?” Kuroo presses.
Kenma shrugs one shoulder. “I care about you. But not like that.”
“That’s okay,” Kuroo says, and despite his disappointment, he really means it. He loves Kenma, in every way, and if he has to love Kenma without Kenma loving him back, he can do that. He’s never been altruistic in the least, but if Kenma asked for the moon Kuroo would get it for him. Except Kenma would never, ever ask for anything he knew Kuroo couldn’t give, and maybe that’s why Kuroo loves him. And that’s why Kuroo isn’t afraid that this will change things between them. Kenma knows. Kenma won’t ask him to leave or to stop loving him because Kenma knows he can’t do it.
He asks, anyway, just to be sure.
Kenma says, “Don’t be stupid, Kuro.”
--
Except, it does change one thing.
Kuroo takes to declaring his love for Kenma on a frequent and loud basis.
During practice -- “That toss could have been a little higher, but it’s okay, I still love you!”
Watching him play video games on lazy Saturday mornings -- “You should pay more attention to me, that game will never love you like I do, you should take advantage of that.”
When he’s sick and Kenma brings over soup and tissues -- “Aww, thanks babe, I knew there was a reason I loved you.”
It makes Kenma roll his eyes, but he’s not really irritated and Kuroo knows it. It’s playful, like a game. Sometimes it even makes Kenma’s eyes crinkle in the corners, makes him smile despite his sighs. It’s fun.
It hurts a little, but that's okay, it’s fun.
--
“You should try to stop.”
“I can’t.”
“I don’t feel the same way. Maybe I never will.”
“I know.”
“Does it hurt?”
“Sometimes.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. It’s not your fault. I love you. It’s okay if you don’t love me back.”
“I do. Just.”
“I know.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
--
The night before Kuroo leaves for university, he and Kenma sleep wrapped around each other, so tight that Kuroo isn’t quite sure which legs are his and which are Kenma’s anymore. It’ll be the first time they’ve been apart for such a long time and Kuroo is dreading that as much as he is looking forward to university. Kenma doesn’t have the same excitement, he just has the separation, and Kuroo thinks that this is probably harder on Kenma than it is for him.
“I’m going to miss you,” Kenma says, rough and wet into his shoulder. Kuroo kisses the top of his head and thinks about how much he loves the boy beside him.
“Me too. I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
They mean it differently, and that’s okay.
--
“There’s someone,” Kenma starts, voice quiet over the phone line, and even though Kenma can’t see him, Kuroo forces a smile. Forces a smile so Kenma won’t hear his heart breaking just that little bit more.
“That’s great, Kenma,” he says.
“Is it… is that okay?”
“Yeah,” Kuroo makes himself say. “Yeah. You sound happy. I want you to be happy.”
He can feel Kenma’s relief through the silence.
“Go get ‘em, tiger,” Kuroo jokes, digging his nails into the palm of his hand. “He won’t know what hit him.”
Kenma is rolling his eyes and Kuroo knows it.
“…Thanks, Kuro.”
“Yeah, anytime. Look, I gotta go, okay? But let me know how things turn out. I want to know everything.”
“Fine.”
“’Kay. Bye. Love you.”
Kenma hangs up and Kuroo listens to the dial tone and tried not to cry because this, this is not okay.