Archive of Our Own

Kenma has separation anxiety. Self-diagnosed but still. Well, sort of self-diagnosed, as it was his mother who originally proposed the idea of it. But the concept had triggered something in Kenma’s head, and he wasn’t able to deny to himself that it might be true. His mother had always said that he had been a clingy baby. He would cry when he wasn’t in her arms and would scream up a storm whenever his father so much as touched him. According to his mother, it was because, even as a child, he was a good judge of character. So when his father left before he could learn to talk, his mom said she wasn’t even surprised and little Kenma was just relieved. But that’s the normal kind of separation anxiety. That’s where it’s supposed to begin and end. Unfortunately for Kenma, the anxiety flooding his body when he goes a certain time without seeing his childhood best friend needs to be studied. But it won’t be because that’s embarrassing, and Kenma refuses to bring it up ever. Even with his mom, who had thrown out the phrase one random night when Kenma was seven. He remembered sitting next to his mom’s boyfriend at the time, who would later become his stepfather, and asking if Kuro could come stay the night. His mom had laughed as she set down a plate of food and smiled fondly at him.

“Honestly, Ken, you can’t let two whole days go by without him, can you? Oh well. It’s the separation anxiety they never warn parents about. A boy and his best friend.”

“He’ll grow out of it,” the future stepfather said without looking up from his plate. He was a businessman in downtown Tokyo with a boring job that Kenma never bothered to learn about. But that was good. It’s what he and his mom needed after the hell his biological father had left her in.

“Maybe,” his mom shrugged before kneeling next to him and putting her hand on top of her son’s. “But you don’t have to. Tetsurou can be your favourite person forever if you want.”

Kenma felt his face get hot, and he pulled away to stare down at his chopsticks.

“Whatever,” he muttered. “Can he stay over, please?”

“Of course, love,” Kenma’s mom laughed lightly and leaned over to kiss the top of his head before scooting over to her spot at the table and beginning to eat.

#1

It was embarrassing and also stupid - so freaking stupid - but Kenma thought that Kuro actually was his favourite person. And it didn’t change even as the years did, and eventually led him to the horrible time in his life when Kuro went to high school, and he was still stuck finishing junior high. They would still walk to and from the train station together, but the hours that Kenma knew Kuro wasn’t just in a different class than him were torture. He couldn’t let himself think about it too long or else his hands would start to shake, and his breathing would become erratic. Learning about panic attacks from the school nurse on a random Tuesday was another totally embarrassing moment, especially when he found out his mom had been called and she would be picking him up in an hour.

“You wanna tell me what happened, kid?” she asked as they walked home because she never bothered to get a Japanese driver's license, and her American one had expired the year Kenma was born.

“No,” he muttered, head buried in his phone, trying to get to the next level on a game he didn’t even like but was useful to dull his senses.

“You’re working really hard in school,” his mom commented almost boredly, but Kenma could tell she was attempting to uncover something. “I noticed your grades have increased this year. Trying to make a good last impression to get into the high school of your dreams.”

“Kuro already said I would definitely be able to get into Nekoma,” Kenma sighed and looked over at her. Their matching eyes both tried to uncover the thing the other was hiding.

“But you’re not getting distracted in class.” His mom stopped walking, and they both faced each other. “One of your teachers today told me that you barely even pull out your games anymore. While in class, you are constantly studying. You don’t let yourself relax.”

“Maybe I’ve decided to become a genius.” Kenma snapped suddenly. Irritation was building in his chest as he glared up at his mother, who just narrowed her eyes back at him.

“You’ve always been a genius, kid, but burying yourself with homework won’t make it any easier that Tetsurou is already in high school.”

Kenma’s mouth suddenly became a desert. His hands shook, and the panic from earlier today crashed over him like a wave. The desire to look over his shoulder, desperately searching for someone, was making his neck ache.

“Kenma baby,” his mother whispered and reached out a hand slowly, but he just took a step back and turned to continue walking home.

“It’s not like that,” he gasped out, either to himself or her, he didn’t know. “I don’t need-”

“Kenma!” a voice yelled from behind him, and relief hit him like a brick to the face.

His knees almost gave out as he spun around to see Kuro running towards them, school bag swinging wildly, and uniform wrinkled. He stopped just in front of the shorter boy and dropped his bag before putting his large hands on Kenma’s shoulders.

“Are you okay? What did the nurse say?” Kuro demanded, his voice high with worry and his eyes flittering across Kenma’s face, who just stared in shock as all the tension in his body leaked away and something close to peace enveloped him.

Kuro’s hands moved from Kenma’s shoulders to cup his cheeks. Kenma could feel the warm, calloused palms against his cheeks. Softly, thumbs brushed his cheekbones with such softness that Kenma could almost sob.

Finally, his head cleared enough for his mouth and brain to start working again.

“What are you doing here? You’re supposed to be in class,” he gasped out.

“I called him,” his mother answered from over Kuro’s bent shoulder. She had a soft smile on her face. One of kindness and love, but also the sweetness of being right. Kenma knew it well; he inherited that very same look. “Let’s go home and let Kenma rest. Tetsurou, do you have someone who can bring you your homework? I will help you study your English as repayment for taking you out of class.”

Kuro rounded on Kenma’s mom and smiled as he draped an arm around Kenma’s shoulders. It was second nature for them, but Kenma still felt the last of his nerves settle at the weight of Kuro leaning on him. He let his eyes slip closed as he leaned closer to his friend. Lifting one hand, he grasped the hem of Kuro’s jacket tightly.

“Yaku said he’d get my work and bring it over after volleyball practice,” Kuro said with his usual grin. “I hope you don’t mind him stopping by to give it to me. I told him I would be at yours.”

“Of course,” she chuckled. “I’ll text your father that you’re staying for dinner.”

“Thank you!” Kuro grinned while pulling a content Kenma along, who pulled out his phone and opened one of the games he actually liked.

That night, he slept curled up with his head resting on Kuro’s chest and his fingers clinging to the older boy’s shirt.

#2

His mother didn’t make him talk about it. It’s sort of the rule of the Kozume household. If you don’t make it a problem, we don’t have to talk about it. Like his video game addiction. She didn’t bring it up to him until she found out about the ‘waking up to play them at all hours of the night’ thing. And oh boy was she mad about that.

Kenma supposes he should be grateful for her. Other parents would surely think that their child having crippling anxiety when being separated from a friend was a problem. But his didn’t. She always let Kuro stay over whenever Kenma asked. She would go out of her way to invite him to family things, so Kenma would have someone to hang out with. He’s pretty sure his American grandparents thought Kuro was actually another one of their grandchildren, given how many video calls Kuro had been on. It’s not like they ever visited to really check anyway.

Kenma doesn’t think he’d ever be able to express enough gratitude to his mother for what she does for him. But he tries sometimes.

One day during his first year of high school, he was sitting at the table next to his stepfather while his mom sang to herself while cooking one of her American recipes. The table was covered by his homework and his stepfather's reports when the older man sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“One day this commute will kill me,” he muttered under his breath, and Kenma offered him a soft smile, which froze when the older man continued. “Do you think I’d be able to convince your mother for all of us to move closer to my job? Could probably find a place decently close to your school, too.”

Kenma figured one of the monsters from his game had climbed out and frozen him to his core. He couldn’t move as he stared at his stepfather rambling on and on as this idea of moving bloomed in his head. The more he talked, the more Kenma could see that he thought it was a brilliant idea.

“Kenma?” his stepfather prodded. “What do you think? Think we could convince her to move?”

“Not in a million years,” Kenma’s mother interrupted with a hard voice that made him spin to look at her. She was standing in the doorway, and her eyes were narrowed in annoyance. “Kenma, go wash up for dinner,” she continued, jerking her head toward the stairs.

He nodded mutely and scrambled to his feet. He practically ran around the corner and halfway up the stairs before he paused and turned to look back down at the hallway. From here, he couldn’t see the dining room but could hear his mother’s voice.

“Moving?” she demanded, voice hushed but eligible. “Are you crazy? This is his home? My home. You know the shit we went through to keep it, and I’m not going to take that away from him. Take Tetsurou away from him.”

“I’m sure he would make new friends. And they would still be in school and play volleyball together. It wouldn’t be that bad,” his stepfather offered, but even Kenma could tell he had accepted that it would never happen.

“I’m sure he would, but I’m not going to make him if he doesn’t have to. You know how much they mean to each other, and you know how much this house means to me. I practically raised two boys in it. I’m probably going to die in this house, so you better get on that boat or get out.”

“Honey!” his stepfather said incredulously.

“No, I'm being so serious,” she snapped. “You don’t get to suggest taking away my son’s home.”

Kenma sank until he was sitting on the steps. He buried his head in his knees. Relief and gratitude pulled at his heart, and he felt tears well up but shoved them back down. It was going to be okay. They weren’t going anywhere.

As quietly as he could, he crawled up the stairs and into his bedroom, where he grabbed a flashlight and climbed onto his bed to look out his window.

Directly across the narrow alley was the window to Kuro’s room. The lights were on as the boy in question leaned over his desk, most likely completing some complicated chemical bullshit that they didn’t even have to know until college. Kenma’s eyes traced the curves of Kuro’s face as he leaned closer to the paper in concentration. He was still in his white button-down, but his tie was gone, and it was open over his bare torso.

Lifting the flashlight, Kenma pointed it out of his window and switched it on and off until Kuroo looked up at it.

Immediately, a smile broke out across his face, and he got up from his desk to lean over his bed to push open the window enough to lean out over the ledge.

Kenma dropped the light and did the same.

“What’s up, Kitten?” Kuro asked with a teasing smirk. “Shouldn’t you be about to have dinner?”

“Can you come over?” Kenma asked, trying to keep his voice monotone and bored, but he must have let something slip because Kuro’s eyes narrowed.

“I mean, sure,” the older boy responded slowly.

“They had an argument. Mom handled it so it’s fine, but I-” Kenma paused as his throat tightened. He didn’t know how to explain the situation without Kuro realising it’s all about him.

“Hey,” Kuro interrupted. “Don’t sweat it. I’ll bring my homework, and we can study after dinner. I’ll stay as long as you need. You know that, right?”

Kenma just nodded. His voice always vanished when Kuro was able to handle it. He didn’t need it because Kuro would always just know.

“I’ll be right over, Kenma,” Kuro assured before moving back into his room.

Kenma withdrew and walked back out of his room, where his mother was waiting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Tetsurou on his way?” she asked with a grin that made Kenma sigh and nod. “Good. I’ll get the door for him. You go sit down. He wants to apologise."

Kenma paused.

“Uh, Mom,” he whispered. “I don’t-”

“I know, kid,” she assured, running a hand through his dark hair. “But let him do this. It’s for him, not you.”

With that, she turned away and headed to the front door to wait for Kuro. Kenma sighed and walked back to the dining room, where the table had been cleared and set for four. His stepfather was still in his spot, looking down at his folded hands. His eyes met Kenma’s when he walked in.

“Your homework is on the side table,” he gestured over to the corner. “I tried to keep it organised the way you like.”

“Thank you,” Kenma muttered, taking his spot and looking down at the table.

Silence fell. It wasn’t uncomfortable. It was actually normal for them. For two men who shared no biological relation, they certainly shared a good deal of mannerisms that always made Kenma’s mother laugh. It’s why they liked studying and working together before dinner. They liked their space and were displeased when things were out of order. Neither were very active unless dragged into it, and both preferred to spend their time behind screens. They would even play a few video games together when Kenma’s mother demanded they have bonding time.

Kenma understood the older man’s need to apologise, but it didn’t make him want to hear it any more. It’s not that he’s mad. Rationally, he understood the thought process. It did make sense, and if he wasn’t so wrapped up in his need to have Kuro within arm’s reach, he might not have cared. He liked his stepfather and was grateful for the stability he provided for both him and his mom. Part of him used to be afraid that one day his stepfather would pack up and leave just like his biological father had. It was the part that tried to make his stepfather happy. To make his life simple and easy. And part of him still did that. But this was just something he wasn’t able to do.

“I apologise for startling you with the idea of moving,” the silence finally broke. “It was just something that popped into my mind. I did not mean to cause such a fuss.”

Kenma nodded without looking up.

“I’m sorry too,” he whispered. “I know your commute is long.”

“None of that,” his stepfather dismissed, and Kenma raised his eyes to see the man smiling fondly as he looked down the hallway. “I am perfectly content to live here if it makes you and your mother happy. Plus, I don’t think any of us would survive without Tetsurou-Kun at our table most days.”

Kenma turned his head just as his mom and Kuro walked into the room, laughing about who knows what.

“Look at this stray cat I found outside begging for food,” Kenma’s mom teased as she led Kuro to the seat next to Kenma. “I swear this boy can smell when food is about to be served.”

While Kenma is positive everyone knew that Kuro was there because Kenma asked, he was grateful to his mother for letting him save a little face.

Dinner was sweet and familiar, just like all the others they had had over the years. Kenma felt the last of his anxiety drift away when Kuro reached under the table and set his hand gently on Kenma’s knee. The heavy pressure was all too familiar and incredibly welcome. A delicate message of ‘I am here.’

After the meal, Kenma took Kuro’s hand.

“We’re going to run to the store really fast,” he said to his mom. “We’ll be back in a bit.”

“Sure thing!” She offered them both a smile as she pulled her pale hair out of her face before doing the dishes.

…

The next morning, Kenma woke earlier than usual and left a sleeping Kuro to wander downstairs. His mother was moving around the kitchen, making breakfast for them before school. She looked up when he walked in with the plastic bag full of supplies he got from the store last night and set it on the counter.

“Why are you awake first?” she asked teasingly. “Did Tetsurou’s legs finally grow so long they kicked you out of the bed?”

Kenma shook his head slowly before taking a step closer to the woman who gave him life. He felt nervous, which was ridiculous. But saying things he wanted was always difficult for him.

“M-mom,” he forced himself to start.

“Yeah, kid?” she answered without looking up from the sink.

“T-thank you,” he said softly. The English words fell before he even knew it.

“Oh,” she paused and moved away from the kettle she had just put on, raising her thin eyebrow. “For what?”

They didn’t usually speak in English. While Kenma had been raised to speak both somewhere in his life, they had decided that the lives they had were centred in Japan and the language here. So English was usually reserved for calls with relatives and to mildly annoy his stepfather or Kuro, who both struggled with it. But also for times like this. When Kenma needed his mother to know something important.

“For last night,” he thrust the words out before he could overthink. “For telling him we can’t move.”

“Oh!” She looked surprised. “Well, yeah! It’s our home. We fought tooth and nail to keep it.”

Kenma nodded, but his eyebrows were furrowed, his eyes were on the ground, and his hands shook. It wasn’t enough.

“I heard you. I heard you tell him why,” he whispered, hoping she understood.

Fortunately, he never had to wonder where he got his observational skills.

His mother moved closer and pulled him into a hug. She barely had a few centimetres on him, but he still felt small when she tucked him away in her arms.

“I’m never gonna let anyone take him away from you,” she said definitively. Like her words were the only ones that mattered.

Kenma nodded against her shoulder and let her warmth fill him.

“I love you, mama,” he whispered.

“I love you too, baby,” she assured at the same volume.

After a minute, they pulled apart, and she went back to cooking.

“Can I ask you a favour?” he asked, switching back to Japanese,

He moved to grab the bag again.

“Anything,” she said lightly.

Pulling out a box of blonde hair dye from the bag, he set it next to where she had set out mugs for tea.

“Will you help me dye my hair when I get home from school?”

His mother paused, examining the box before turning to him with her smile.

“So you wanna look like your mama?” she asked with a teasing tone.

Kenma rolled his eyes as he grabbed the dishes and moved to set the table.

#3

Outside of the need to have Kuro close, sometime during high school, Kenma concluded that he was also madly - and unbelievably annoyingly - in love with Kuro. He couldn’t stop his eyes from lingering a second too long, or how his heart skipped excitedly when Kuro would casually invade his personal space. With Kuro around, the contentment of having him close allowed stronger feelings to grow inside him. Mentally, physically, in every single way Kenma sliced it, he knew he needed to be closer. But it was okay because they had time.

Until they didn’t.

Romantic feelings were put on the back burner when the anxiety flooded him like a tsunami. Kuro wasn’t home all the time anymore. He was away at college. Living somewhere else. Somewhere Kenma couldn’t always get to. The curtains of the room across the alley were closed and dark, and no matter how many times Kenma blinked the flashlight, no one opened them. It was bad; he wasn’t sleeping. He couldn’t be in his room without knowing that Kuro wasn’t close by. Anxiety turned to panic attacks in the late hours of the night. He was falling asleep in class, where he could pretend that Kuro was just down the hall. The first weekend Kuro came home from college, Kenma thought he would cry if he wasn’t so exhausted and excited by the idea of dragging Kuro to his room and curling up with him for a nap that just turned into sleeping for fifteen hours.

He supposed that when his teacher called his mom one day after he passed out in his math class for the millionth time, it was getting closer to being a problem.

His mom brought him home, and instead of sending him to his room to sleep, she just dragged him to the living room, where they kept the TV and a large couch where they would watch movies as a family.

“Sit,” she had stated before disappearing for a second, only to come back with all the bedding from Kenma’s room. She sat next to him and threw the blankets over both of them. Grabbing the remote, she put on an anime Kenma watched as a kid and pulled him into her arms.

“You don’t have to stay in that room when he’s not here,” she whispered into his darkening roots. “You can’t see his room. He’s probably home doing homework. It’s Schrodinger's cat as long as you’re not there to look.”

And there, away from his haunted and empty bedroom, Kenma was able to sleep.

And continued to sleep.

He moved his chargers downstairs but kept everything else in his room. He would complete his homework and whatever else he needed up there, but when it finally came time to go to bed, he would go down to the living room and curl up on the couch. It was a temporary and embarrassing fix. He never told Kuro about it. Whenever the older boy came back from college, he would return to sleeping in his room. No one was supposed to find out.

Unfortunately, Fukunaga was way too observant when he and Yamamoto came over after practice one day.

“Yo, Kenma,” Yamamoto sighed. “Can I borrow your charger? My phone’s about to die.”

Kenma looked up at his two teammates from where he had been trying to find the answer to some stupid math problem.

“I’ll go get it,” he muttered.

“Where is it?” Fukunaga asked, raising his large, round eyes.

“Living room,” Kenma shrugged.

“You don’t have one next to your bed?” Yamamoto asked. “That’s surprising, Ken. Don’t you charge it while you sleep?”

“Of course I do,” Kenma huffed in annoyance.

Fukunaga’s eyebrows rose slightly, and he stood up from the small table set up on the floor of Kenma’s room and looked towards the window, which was hidden behind the drawn curtains. He leaned forward and attempted to pull them open when Kenma felt his heart spike in his chest, and he shot up.

“Don’t!” he snapped.

Fukunaga froze and looked back at him.

“Don’t what?” he asked innocently.

Kenma felt the words in his throat, but they got caught and choked him.

“Don’t what, Kenma,” Fukunaga pushed.

“Don’t open the blinds,” he whispered.

“What, why?” Yamamoto asked in confusion. “Honestly, I could use a little sunlight.”

Fukunaga shrugged and let himself fall back into a sitting position before saying, “Kuroo-San’s house is next door, isn’t it?”

Kenma just slowly nodded, looking back at his homework.

Schrodinger's cat. That’s what his mom said. As long as he doesn’t look, it doesn’t matter.

Schrodinger's cat…

Schrodinger's cat…

“Can you see his room from yours?” Yamamoto asked, standing and moving closer to the window. “Wonder what it looks like now that he’s-”

“You can’t look!” Kenma snapped, slamming his hands onto the table. “The curtains are closed. In my room and his. So no one knows.”

It was quiet. Kenma couldn’t look up, though. He could feel his teammates looking at him, and it made his skin crawl. It wasn’t how Kuro looked at him. It was prickly and questioning. And bad. Oh God, it was bad. Kuro wasn’t there. Holy shit, this is bad! Schrodinger's cat… Remember, if you don’t look, it doesn’t matter, and no one knows.

The air in the room was heavy and choking. Kenma couldn’t stop the gasp that fell from his mouth, and he forced himself to his feet.

“Kenma!” Yamamoto called after him with something akin to worry in his voice as Kenma shoved open his door and practically fell down the stairs to the ground floor.

Rightening himself and pressing a hand over his throbbing chest, he pushed himself towards the living room where his nest of blankets from the night before had been neatly folded by his mother.

This is fine. From here, he doesn’t have to even think about Schrodinger's cat. Because the box that the cat is in is upstairs. He doesn’t even have the option of opening it from the living room. Letting himself curl into the corner of the L-shaped section on the couch, Kenma buried his head in his knees and lightly tugged at the roots of his hair.

Kuro’s fine. He’s close. Somewhere close. Somewhere safe and close, and if Kenma called loud enough, he would be able to hear him.

Kenma’s eyes burned, and he told himself it was from tugging on his hair too tightly, so he let go to press the heels of his palms into his eyes hard enough to see spots. Stop crying. Why are you crying? There’s no need because Kuro is here. Just here. Nowhere else. Where else would he be?

Kenma’s head was so busy trying to delude himself that he didn’t notice the other people in the room with him. He practically shot out of his skin when something cold and hard was being pressed into the side of his head near his left ear. He didn’t look up and instead forced every muscle in his body to freeze.

“Kenma,” a voice crackled over the phone that was being held against him.

“Kuro?” Kenma practically cried, frantically grabbing the device and shoving it closer as if he could meld it into his skull.

“Hey, kitten!” Kuro called, anxiety clear in his voice. “What’s wrong? Fukunaga called me, saying you were freaking out over a math problem? Is that true?”

Kenma looked up to see his teammate shrug with a soft smile on his face. He couldn’t stop the sob turned laugh that fell from his lips.

“Senior year’s killing me,” he said, holding out an arm and letting Fukunaga give him a little hug. The presence of Kuro, even over the phone, is enough to dispel the panic. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Whether that last part was for Kuro or his teammates, Kenma wasn’t actually sure, but he let both calm his heart down and keep him company that afternoon.

Later, Fukunaga would ask if Kenma slept in the living room because he didn’t like being so close to Kuro’s empty bedroom, and Kenma would just nod. That was it. Neither of them ever brought it up again, but Fukunaga came by more often after school. He would just exist with Kenma and attempt to provide a distraction from the empty space Kuro is meant to occupy.

#4

Kenma only ever told one person during that horrible year. It was during training camp, and he was hiding in the third gym with Keiji. They sat side by side on the floor, looking at the empty court. Both remembered how their old captains would practise for hours after the coaches had let them off.

“Bokuto-San called me yesterday,” Keiji had said softly, his blue eyes lazily roaming the space. “Told me good luck for camp and to tell him everything we learn so he can keep getting the inside details of all the teams.”

Kenma scoffed.

“I think he misses all the gossip from Kurasuno more than actually playing against all of us,” he said, taking a sip from his water bottle.

Keiji had laughed lightly before leaning his head back against the wall.

“I don’t think I’ll keep playing in college,” he muttered. “But Bokuto-San would be sad about that. He likes to talk about us playing together again.”

“Just tell him no.” Kenma shrugged. “That’s what I told Kuro. He complained that we would be losing precious time together. But I figure by the time we’re in college, we’ll be spending enough time together, we won’t also need volleyball practice.”

“Kazume-San, do you only play volleyball to spend time with Kuroo-san?”

Kenma frowned to himself. The question was both true and not. He remembered telling Shoyo the only reason he played was that Kuro liked it and Kuro needed him, but somewhere along the way, volleyball became fun.

“I used to play for Kuro, now I play for myself, but I don’t think I’ll need to play anymore. It’s like I’ll be done. Because I’ll have Kuro then,” he muttered, partially to himself.

“Do you not have him now?” Keiji asked.

Kenma frowned and brought his hand up to chew on his nail as he stared hard at his volleyball shoes. It’s not that he didn’t have Kuro. He did. But that selfish, anxious part of him wanted him more. Wanted all of him.

“A few years back,” he whispered. “Kuro read this manga that he forced me to read as well. One of the characters said that she wished he hadn’t been born as a person. She wished she could have been born as the heart of her lover so that they could never be apart, and neither could live without the other.”

“Fruit’s Basket,” Keiji offered, and Kenma smiled slightly.

“I don’t think I’m meant to exist as a separate entity from Kuro,” he said. His own heart was hammering against his chest, and his eyes began to ache. “The only time I feel okay is when he’s right next to me. And sometimes even that isn’t enough. I want to crawl inside his chest and become his heart. Keep him alive. When he’s not here, I feel so alone. It threatens to swallow me. Sometimes it gets so bad that I-”

“You panic,” Keiji finished while looking up at the ceiling of the gym with a thoughtful expression etched onto his face. “I’ve seen you. Desperately searching for something at times.”

Kenma nodded.

“My mom once said it was separation anxiety,” he shrugged. “To me, that sounds better than codependency. After all, I’m not sure Kuro depends on me as I do him”

Keiji frowned and sat up straight. He turned his body to face Kenma and offered his hand, which Kenma took. Soaking up the warmth and care from his friend.

“Kuro does depend on you,” Keiji assured. “Maybe not the same way, but I’ve seen him when you’re not around. He never smiles as brightly as he does around you. He’s always looking for you the same way you look for him.”

Kenma’s eyes filled with tears, and he gave a small nod.

God, he missed Kuro.

 

+1

It wasn’t a problem. It was just a part of Kenma’s life. He was eighteen. Lived most of his life with this stress and anxiety, and a need for Kuro’s presence. And it was all going to go away soon. Kuro would be back for the holidays, and Kenma would be joining him in college soon. They would be back to being in the same school. Same walks, same mealtimes, same time spent together. It was these thoughts and ideas that calmed Kenma’s nerves for a bit. Ever since he got his acceptance letter, things had felt manageable. He still slept in the living room, but now it felt more out of habit than necessity. Everything was going to be okay!

…

“Kenma,” his stepfather called just as he had gotten home from school one Friday. “Would you join your mother and me in the dining room for a second?”

Kenma frowned to himself as he finished taking his shoes off. His stepfather liked to have “family meetings” that, in Kenma and his mom’s minds, were overly silly and formal and not at all fitting for such a strange-shaped family. But they indulged him because this is how his family had always handled things. Kenma couldn’t help running over the past few weeks in his mind to see if he could deduce what this would be about. Maybe he wanted to talk about what they were going to do over the holiday? Hopefully, they weren’t going to go anywhere. Unless Kuro could come too, then it would be fine. He rounded the corner to see his parents sitting on the same side of the table, and both looked up when he came in.

To his surprise, his mother was the one with a frown on her face. His stepfather wore his normal emotionless expression.

“Sit down, kid.” His mom said, gesturing towards the spot across from them.

Kenma felt his heart pick up the pace as he dropped his bag by the doorway and moved to kneel on the other side of the table. He pressed his hands hard against his thighs to prevent them from shaking. Something was about to happen, and he didn’t like it.

“Kenma,” his mom started, running a hand through her hair. “I got a call today from your college.”

Oh God, what happened? Did they expel him already? Could you be expelled from a school you hadn’t started yet? That would be bad. If he can’t go, he can’t be with Kuro, and if he can’t be with Kuro, he might as well die now.

“Baby, take a deep breath,” his mother’s voice broke through the beginning of his panic, and he forced his lungs to expand. “They wanted to know why you haven't signed up for the dorms yet. The deadline is approaching. I told them I would check with you.”

Silence fell. Kenma’s eyes had fallen to his hands, which had formed fists tight enough to turn his knuckles white.

“Kenma,” his mom prompted. “Why haven't you signed up for the dorms?”

“I-” he tried, but his voice broke, and he shook his head in an attempt to line up his thoughts. “Kuro told me that he and Koutarou had found an apartment for them next year. It’s a big apartment, so they asked Keiji and me if we wanted to room with them. I know we’re just freshmen, but we’ve been talking about it, and I realised that I didn’t want to be in the dorms. I know it’s college and an experience or whatever, but I can’t do it. I would have to share a room with a stranger, and Kuro wouldn’t be right next door, and even if he’s close, it’s not close enough because I can’t do it again. I can’t do it. He’s too far away, and I think it’s killing me.” Somewhere, he had switched to English, and he looked up with frantic eyes to meet his mother’s tear-filled ones. “Please, mama. I need him to be next to me. I can’t do this alone. I’ll be so good. I’ll get a job to help pay for the apartment, and I know you and Dad work so hard, but I’ll never ask for anything. Just let me be with Kuro. I need him. I need him to breathe.”

His mother let out a sob as she lunged across the table and pulled her son into her arms.

“I’m sorry,” he babbled, unable to stop his own sobs. “But please. Please mama. You know. You’ve always known.”

“I do,” she soothed, running her hand through his hair. “It’s okay, baby. We can figure it out. I promise.”

“I will need to talk to Tetsurou-Kun’s father about the apartment,” his stepfather spoke up calmly, making Kenma and his mother freeze, and both turned to him with red eyes. He offered them both a smile and pushed his glasses up his nose. “While I didn’t catch the entire thing, I’m sure I have the gist of it. As long as it’s a reasonable price and in a safe neighbourhood with easy access to campus, I’m sure we can manage. I have been putting aside some money for your education since your mother and I got married.

“What?” Kenma’s mother gasped. “You didn’t tell me that!”

“Did I not?” his stepfather tilted his head in surprise. “Oh. I apologise, I must have forgotten at the time. I meant to surprise Kenma with this news at his graduation, but I suppose it would have been a surprise to both of you. Ah, well, I guess we shall accept it now.”

Kenma blinked away the last of his tears as he stared at the man who smiled gently at him.

“I do have one condition, though,” his stepfather said.

Kenma could feel his mother tense as she adjusted to kneel next to him. His own heart felt heavy and tired, but still did a little pinch at the words.

“You must tell Tetsurou about the anxiety.”

Well fuck…

Kenma snapped his head around to look at his mother. She had to object, right?! All these years, she never said anything to out him. Always protected his secret. She would understand why he couldn’t tell.

But she was just looking at her husband with thoughtful eyes for a moment before she sighed and turned to meet her son’s gaze.

“He’s right,” she whispered in English. “Testurou needs to know if you’re going to live with him. If you’re going to love him the way I know you do.”

“No, no, no!” Kenma begged. “Mama no. If we say it, it's a problem. That’s our rule. This can’t be a problem.”

“It doesn’t have to be a problem,” his mother said, grabbing his hands. “Just because we talk about something doesn't make it a problem. Kenma, I have never thought about you needing Tetsurou around as a problem. It’s just something you need like air and food. It’s like how your little ginger friend and his boyfriend need volleyball. It’s not a problem, it’s a fact of life. And maybe your need is a little extreme, but who cares! Tetsurou has never complained about having you around. I think sometimes you forget just how much he also needs you. That boy is always banging down our door, even when you didn’t ask him over. He’s not gonna care that you get scared when he’s not here. It’s probably all going to click into place for him. You’ve not exactly been hiding it.”

Kenma squeezed her fingers tightly as he tried to imagine telling Kuro. Tried to imagine his face. Oh God, what if he’s disgusted? Kenma didn’t think he would be able to handle that. It would actually kill him.

“Baby,” his mother whispered. “It’s okay. You can tell Tetsurou.”

“Tell me what?”

The voice popped the bubble the little family had built, and all eyes snapped to the doorway where Kuro stood in all his glory. He looked tired but effortlessly handsome as he looked between all the people before his eyes landed on Kenma, who swallowed dryly.

“Hello, honey,” Kenma’s mother gasped. “We didn’t hear you come in!”

“Oh yeah!” Kuro said. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt, but the door was open, and no one answered when I knocked.”

“Nonsense!” she chuckled, getting to her feet to hug Kuro. “You know you’re always welcome. Why don’t you take Kenma upstairs, and I’ll get you boys some snacks.”

Kuro nodded before stepping forward to offer Kenma his hand.

As if in a daze, Kenma took it and let himself be led upstairs to his bedroom. Kuro’s hand was warm in his, and Kenma just watched his own be swallowed up by Kuro’s. It felt. Right. He didn’t have to think or do anything when Kuro could lead him.

“Is your mom washing your bedding?” Kuro asked when they entered the room, and he saw the bare mattress.

Kenma’s head snapped up, and he flinched back. His hand slipped from Kuro’s as he took a step away towards the door. The idea of running away crossed his mind, but then his parents' words crashed to the front of his mind, and he froze. Terrified, he lifted his head to look at Kuro, who was looking at him in surprise and something akin to hurt.

“What’s wrong?” Kuro asked. “Have you been crying?”

Kenma didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Instead, he felt his knees give out, and he would have crashed to the floor if Kuro’s eyes hadn’t widened, and his arms lunged forward to catch Kenma.

“What the fuck, Kenma!” Kuro gasped as he lowered the smaller boy to the floor. “You have to tell me what’s going on!”

“They found out,” he choked out as he clawed at the back of Kuro’s shirt as if trying to meld their bodies together.

“What?” Kuro demanded as he held Kenma tighter. “What did they find out?”

“About the apartment,” he sobbed. “That I want to live with you.”

His chest burned, and he wanted to wail in Kuro’s arms until he could pass out, but Kuro put his hands on Kena’s shoulders and pushed him away enough for their eyes to meet.

“Kenma,” Kuro said, his voice stern but his eyes swam with confusion. “Tell me what’s going on. Why would your parents care if we lived together? We’re best friends.”

Kenma frantically shook his head and brought his own hands up to cover his face. He knew he needed to calm down. He had to focus. But the thought of Kuro hating him was making him want to die. God, why did he have to be a person?

“Kenma!” Kuro whispered. “Focus on me! I’m not going anywhere.”

Grabbing one of Krnma’s hands, Kuro pried it away from his face and rested it on his own chest so Kenma could feel his heartbeat.

“Breathe, Kitten,” Kuro insisted as he took a deep breath, and Kenma felt his chest rise.

He tried to copy it and squeezed his eyes in an attempt to focus only on the feeling of Kuro’s heart against his hand. The thing he was meant to be.

It took a while, but eventually he opened his eyes and looked up at Kuro, who stared back with a hard and focused expression.

“You with me?” he asked, and Kenma nodded. “Good. Tell me what happened. What do you have to tell me?”

“Right,” Kenma whispered and took another shaky breath before standing up on his shaky legs and moving to sit on the bed. His fingers traced the bare mattress slowly without looking at his best friend. “I don’t sleep in my room anymore.”

“... What?” Kuro asked.

“I sleep in the living room. I have since a month after you left for college.” Kenma continued. “When you come back for weekends, I'll move everything back up here, but every other night… I can’t do it.”

The mattress dipped next to him, and Kuro’s hand rested next to his own, but Kenma still didn’t look up.

“Why not?” Kuro asked.

“Because you’re not here,” Kenma answered simply. “I can’t sleep when you’re not next door. It’s too hard. And it’s not just sleeping. Sometimes, when I’m at school, and I realise you aren’t there, I panic. I start to breathe all funny, and it’s horrible. I end up crying on the bathroom floor. And it’s not new. It happened in middle school, too. But now it’s worse. Worse because you’re farther away. Worse, because I don’t see you every day. Worse, because I can’t exist without you.”

“What? Of course you can, Ken-” Kuro tried, but Kenma interrupted him.

“No, I can’t. I have to have you next to me. And if I can’t, I lie to myself until I believe you are. And it’s probably wrong and totally unhealthy, but when you’re far away from me, I don’t know what to do. It’s more than you being my best friend; it’s more than me being in love with you. I physically don’t know how to exist when you’re not here. I think I’m going to die when you’re gone.”

The room was silent as Kenma’s voice finally gave out, and a tear leaked from his eye and fell onto his hand before rolling off onto the mattress. Then Kuro’s hand moved up to cover Kenma’s and gave it a soft squeeze, and for some unknown reason, that’s what it takes for Kenma to look up.

Kuro’s eyes swam with a million emotions, and a soft smile played on his lips.

“You love me?” he repeated, and Kenma gasped like a dying fish as his face flushed, but Kuro didn’t let him overthink it as he quickly moved closer until their faces were only an inch apart. Then he whispered, “I love you too.”

Then his lips were pressed against Kenma’s, who let out a hum of surprise as his eyes slipped closed. Kuro’s hand cupped his face and pulled him closer, and Kenma felt like he could just turn into chocolate on a hot day. He became totally malleable in Kuro’s arms as their mouths moved against each other, chasing air and devouring each other. He wouldn’t be able to do this if he were Kuro’s heart.

Pulling away slightly, he grabbed Kuro’s wrists and stared at him breathlessly. His chest rising and falling hard as his own heart beat mercilessly.

“You don’t care?” he demanded.

“About what?” Kuro asked, tilting his head slightly and pressing a light kiss against Kenma’s lips again, but Kenma pulled further away. The only thing keeping him from falling off of Kuro’s lap and onto the ground was Kuro’s grip on his face and his own hold on his wrists.

“That I need you,” he whispered.

“Oh!” Kuro leaned back and pulled Kenma up with him, so they sat steadily together with Kenma still on his lap, facing him. “I mean no.”

And there it was.

The answer Kenma didn’t know he needed.

He could have started sobbing right then if Kuro’s eyes hadn’t been locked onto his. He felt trapped under them. It was perfect,

“Kenma,” Kuro continued. “I wouldn’t care if you said that you were actually an alien that wanted to crawl inside of me and pop out of my chest. So you have separation anxiety? I don’t care. Honestly, it sounds great to me. Not to diminish your issues or anything, but not being able to be apart from me? Perfect. We can stay together forever. I’ll never leave your side. I never wanted to anyway.”

Kenma lunged forward and wrapped his arms around Kuro’s neck.

“Please don’t leave me,” he gasped.

Kuro’s arms wound around his waist and pulled him tighter against him.

“I would never,” he whispered back. “I’ll love you forever, Kitten, and I’ll stay by your side the whole time.”