last chance
pairing: kuroo tetsurou/reader
wc: 860
tags: pre-relationship, fluff, high school setting (third year), bad flirting, kuroo is really trying
"What'd you get for number 8?" Kuroo asks as he leans over you.
"Umm," you tilt your head and the golden light of the late afternoon sun flickers across your cheek. "I think I put down 1868 to 1912."
"Wait, seriously?" He claps his hand on his forehead. That's five questions he's probably got wrong now, not to mention he'd barely finished writing his second essay, meaning the maximum possible grade he could get is...
"I hate history," he grumbles, trying to redirect his train of thought from its depressing destination. "I'm never taking it in university."
You sigh ruefully. "I feel the same way about chemistry. The moment I walked out of yesterday's exam, every piece of knowledge about thermodynamics just—" you wave your hand near your temple, "—vanished."
"Bet you're glad I gave you my notes though, right?"
The train doors slide open and a crowd of students from another school shuffle in. His legs brush against yours as he tries to make more room around him.
"Only because I gave you my English notes," you counter dryly, moving your bookbag onto your lap as a freckled teen slides into the seat beside you. The small plastic Keroppi charm on its side swings erratically against your thigh.
"A more than fair trade," he reasons. "Especially since I was getting the highest mark in chem, while you were just below Takaichi in English."
"Takaichi's mom is from New Zealand," you reply, with a roll of your eyes. "He's been practically fluent since he was born. Plus, your handwriting sucks, so you get points taken off for that."
Kuroo snorts, but has no choice but to concede. After all, he can barely read his own notebooks from last semester.
He watches as the Tokyo cityscape rushes past, still thrumming with life, even as the sun dips low in the sky. It's hard to imagine an afternoon where he won't be packed into the subway at this time, with his loosened Nekoma uniform tie around his collar, and your occasional company on the afternoons he's able to catch you at the school entrance.
His short spell of mourning is interrupted by the announcer as the train pulls into a familiar station. You both exit onto the platform and make a beeline towards the escalators.
"I'm not staying in Tokyo," he says, as you're halfway through the barriers.
Keroppi's face smacks against your zipper as you pause. "Oh?"
"I'm going to Osaka," he continues, weaving through the crowd. You fall into step beside him and there's a second in which Kuroo thinks he's vastly overestimated his importance in your life.
"That's..." He watches as a crease forms between your brows. "I thought you were going to Tokodai."
"Nah," he says, re-adjusting the strap of his bag. "I think it'd be good to gain some independence, you know?"
"Right," you say, tucking your Suica away. The sound of the city fills in the quiet that follows as you step out of the station.
Truthfully, Kuroo had been hoping for something—anything—more than the pensive silence that now settles between the two of you as you both walk the last few blocks of your high school era. But as you round the corner, the weight of the moment only grows heavier.
From his peripheral vision, he can tell you're sulking with your lips turned down in a pout that you probably aren't even aware of. And even though you've never admitted it to anyone, he's not oblivious to the way you can barely hold his gaze for more than two seconds, or how you linger at the intersection when you part ways.
"You know," he says, as you both stand before a crosswalk, "this is probably your last chance."
Your eyes flash up at him.
"What do you mean?"
He straightens up.
"Your last chance to admit that you're in love with me," he blurts. He had meant for it to come out a bit smoother, maybe aiming for a kind of teasing tone, but something had gone horribly wrong in the last second. Embarrassingly, he feels his own cheeks grow hot at the boldness of his declaration.
The crosswalk indicator changes, but you're both frozen in place.
You blink, looking absolutely bewildered, and he begins to fear that he's broken you.
And then an odd sound emerges from your mouth—a short snicker, followed by an open burst of laughter. Your giggle seems to carry over the noise of the traffic around you and Kuroo tries very hard not to die right then and there.
Instead, he forces himself to laugh along. How could he have miscalculated so bad?
He's sure he'll remember this moment for many sleepless nights ahead.
"Don't worry," you say later with the world's most bemused smile, as you near his building. "It's not my last chance."
Kuroo works up the courage to look you in the eye.
"After all, I still have our graduation ceremony."
229 notes
·
View notes
sweet and sour
pairing: suna rintarou x reader
wc: 880
tags: fluff, fake dating, (real) jealousy, party setting ofc, reader wears makeup and is shorter than suna
Sometime last Wednesday, Suna Rintarou had discovered inner peace.
It had been after his last linear algebra exam, during his third consecutive hour of mourning, when it finally occurred to him that it didn't matter. Of course, it mattered in the sense that it would affect his GPA, and as a result, his job prospects, career, ability to be approved for a mortgage and become a homeowner, and of course his retirement. But in a more 'in the moment' sense, it didn't matter at all.
This was because, he'd rationalized, it had already happened and there was no use agonizing over it after the fact. And so, for a few short days, Suna abided by the belief that if he couldn't change something, he simply wouldn't bring himself to care about it.
So when you drag him into the tiny bathroom of someone's apartment with a swipe of glitter under your left eye and a frazzled expression on your pretty face, Suna is fully prepared to put his new philosophy into action.
The door shuts behind you, muffling the din of music and people and he tries not to think about how precariously close your drink is to the edge of the sink when you set it down.
"I need a favour," you begin, wringing your wrists as he tries not to fall backwards into the shower. It is, in fact, a very tiny bathroom.
"Nah," he replies, managing to right himself against the towel rack.
"'Nah'?" you repeat, jutting out your bottom lip. "But you don't even know what I'm going to ask."
He rationalizes that it can't be anything worth putting in the effort for. Therefore would it even make sense for him to hear you out? He thinks not.
However, as he eyes the door behind you, your face bobs into view, obstructing his path to escape.
"Please," you whine, dropping down from a tippy toe. "Just hear me out."
He glances once at his reflection in the mirror before his gaze slides up to the ugly white light on the ceiling.
"Fine."
"Yes," you exclaim, your elbow narrowly missing the cup. Suna looks away.
"Okay, so my ex is here with his new girlfriend," you begin, your hands moving fast, "and so I would really, really be so grateful if you could maybe, possibly, pretend that we're together."
He blinks. "Nah."
Your face falls. "But I'm gonna look like a loser out there."
He wonders if the glitter is supposed to draw attention to your eyes. If so, why just one side?
"That doesn't even make any sense," he says. "No one cares that you're single." After all, no one cares that he's single. Except for himself, sometimes, although, he's learning to let go of that.
You're pouting again. "I care. And I'm pretty sure that he cares. Chiharu said that he told the other guys on the soccer team that he was bringing her because he knew that I'd be here. Like, isn't that kind of fucked up?"
Something like irritation wriggles in his brain but he quickly shuts that down. After all, what can he really change about the situation? Even if he does pretend to be your boyfriend for tonight, your ex will continue to be a convincing piece of evidence that Neanderthals might still walk amongst modern humans. And even then, you'll still be hung up on him and things between you two will just stay the same. So why should he bother?
"I'm gonna pass," he says dryly, squeezing past you to get to the door. Your elbow brushes against the cup and it falls, clattering into the sink and splashing red liquid down the sides.
"Just tell him to go fuck himself or something," he shrugs, before twisting the doorknob. "Or just pretend he's not there at all."
"But Rin," you pout as he lets the chaos of the party flood into the small space, "I thought we were friends."
And you are friends, he thinks, as he shoulders his way back through the crowd. That's the problem.
That's the fucking problem.
So when he spots you, fifteen minutes later, with your back up to a wall and that Cro-Magnon specimen crowding you, he thinks it's finally time to seriously reconsider his philosophy.
And sometime in the five steps it takes to cross the room does he finally come to the conclusion that enlightenment just isn't for him.
"Hey, angel," he says as he turns you around to face him. Your lips are parted in surprise and the glitter reflects fuchsia and gold in the low light.
He's acutely aware that the two of you are not alone, but he can't bring himself to look away. Something like a second epiphany dawns on him.
"Sorry it took a while," he murmurs as he leans down to meet your gaze.
"But better late than never, right?"
Sometime last Wednesday, Suna Rintarou had discovered inner peace.
But right now, tonight, as you let him kiss you in front of all the people you know, he decides that inner peace is entirely overrated.
136 notes
·
View notes