Thread by @starbeyy

🏳️‍🌈pride month threadfic marathon🏳️‍🌈

DAY 6: #kurotsukki // kuroo is a uni student who can always be found at the corner table of the coffee shop where tsukishima works--ordering oat milk in his latte doesn't seem to be an obvious enough hint

#KrtskWeek2022 @KurotsukiWeek Day 2

"There he is!"

Kuroo hissed straight into Kenma's ear, making him recoil with a sneer.

"There's like three people working the bar, Tetsurou," he grumbled.

"No, he's the blonde," Kuroo pointed, "the tall one."

Kenma stood on his toes to get a better view through the coffee shop window. He tried to follow the direction of Kuroo's finger before his chin was torn away.

"Ow!" He exclaimed.

"Don't look!" Kuroo hissed.

"Do you want me to look or not?" Kenma with a sharp expression.

"Not when he's looking over here!" Kuroo protested.

Kenma huffed out a breath, "You've officially gone nutty."

"I know," Kuroo sighed as he dropped Kenma from his grip.

"Why don't you just leave him your number?"

"No way!" Kuroo cried, "He's in his place of employment. Do you know how frustrating it is for people to be hit on while they're working?"

"Then talk to him when he's /done/ working," Kenma sighed.

"Like a stalker?" Kuroo rebutted, "Fat chance."

"Obviously you're not going to take any of my advice so--" Kenma adjusted his canvas bag on his shoulder, "you're on your own."

Kuroo glanced back into the window. His stomach did a flip.

"No, wait, I need you here," he hummed, "for reinforcements."

Kenma quirked a brow.

"Wouldn't sitting at your usual table with some other guy send the message that you're taken to your sweet coffee prince?"

Kuroo planted his face in his hands.

"I hadn't even thought of that."

"I'll be next door," Kenma mumbled, motioning towards the neighboring bookstore.

"Wait," Kuroo pled one last time.

Kenma turned again with a crazed, wide-eyed expression.

"What?" He asked, clipped.

"How do I know if he's gay?" Kuroo asked, "How do I let him know that /I'm/ gay?"

Kenma actually thought about that. He furrowed his brow and glanced to the floor.

"It's a coffee shop, right?"

He shrugged.

"Then order oat milk in your coffee."

Kuroo's expression twisted.

"What? Why?" He asked, "What's gay about that?"

Kenma shrugged again, "I dunno, I guess a bunch of gay people just have IBS."

"Irritable bowel syndrome?"

"Yes, we all know what it stands for, Tetsurou" Kenma replied flatly.

"I don't have IBS," Kuroo countered.

"I do," Kenma flashed a sarcastic smile, "so I give you permission to cosplay as a person with IBS today."

Kuroo pulled his bottom lip between his teeth and gave one last harrowed glance into the coffee joint.

"You're sure it'll work?" He asked.

"Nope," Kenma said, instantly turning on his heel and retreating into the bookstore.

It left Kuroo to face his battle all alone, a massively heavy black backpack slung over his shoulder.

He let a long, slow breath out of puffed cheeks as he entered, the bell on the door tingling as he did.

The crowd was typical for a Wednesday: a few college girls at the large table in the middle, a young adult with noise-cancelling headphones hacking away at their laptop, and an old man sipping his hot black coffee.

He checked his table in the corner. It was empty.

And at the counter was him.

Tsukishima.

The coffee shop was small and independently owned, so the employees were free to dress as they pleased. For Tsukishima, this meant some variation on a band t-shirt overlaid by a cardigan--he had to bunch up the sleeves when he used the espresso machine.

Kuroo felt his hands go clammy. No matter how many times he came to the coffee shop and saw him, he could never get a grip. He was here at least four days a week, all the other employees knew him by name.

But Tsukishima was a fairly new hire.

He was a new hire with wavy blonde hair that tickled the back of his neck and thin pink lips that looked incapable of anything more than a flat smile and hazel eyes that hid behind round wire-framed glasses.

Kuroo felt sick to his stomach, all of a sudden.

"Hi," he greeted in a strained voice when he reached the counter.

He feared he wouldn't be heard over the music, but Tsukishima's attention was called anyhow.

He turned from the machine behind him and planted his hands on the wood surface. Kuroo's heart leapt into his throat.

"What can I get you?" He asked in a single, steady tone.

/Your number/, Kuroo's chimp brain rattled off.

"An--just an iced latte is fine," he stammered out instead.

He had a black band shirt on today: The Kinks. The cardigan was mustard yellow. His necklace was a silver chain adorned with little blue charms.

He grabbed a plastic cup from the side and started to scribble on it with the Sharpie he'd been keeping behind his ear.

"W-with!" Kuroo cried out in a panic.

Tsukishima's eyes rose from beneath his heavy brow--puzzled.

"Oat milk," Kuroo continued in a small voice.

Tsukishima's hand stilled. Kuroo felt his cheeks flush red-hot.

"Please," he finally added in a near whisper.

"Oka-ay," Tsukishima muttered as he added the modification.

Kuroo considered excusing himself to the bathroom to punch himself in the face.

☕️☕️☕️

"Oi, Tadashi," Kei called to the back of the shop, "you closing tonight?"

"Yeah," Tadashi replied in a semi-groan.

Kei adjusted his cardigan and attended to the espresso machine with his rag. There were only a few people left in the place.

Of course, Kuroo was accounted for in the corner.

Kei only let himself stare for a moment. He was deeply engrossed in his homework, something to do with math. Kei could gather that much from the calculator and the occasional air of frustration that would surround him.

Kei had always been useless when it came to math. He was getting his degree in Literature. That was much more his speed. He admired Kuroo's dedication, not only to whatever math-centric degree he was torturing himself with but also to this coffee shop and that specific table.

"Woah!" Kei exclaimed as he felt a strong tug on his arm.

He was pulled swiftly into the back room where Tadashi had been sweeping.

"What was that for?" He hissed once they were crammed into the tiny space.

"Sooo?" Tadashi coaxed in a sing-songy voice.

"Sooo what?" Kei replied flatly.

"Kuroo!" Tadashi smiled, "You're into him, right?"

Kei shook his head and blinked back the absurdity of it all.

"I'm--/what/?" He hissed.

"He's cute, right?" Tadashi hummed, leaning his chin on the top of the broomstick.

"Stop," Kei held up his hands, "I'm not interested in one of the customers."

"He's one of our regulars," Tadashi corrected him, "he's been coming here ever since he started at the university two years ago."

Kei tried to peek out from the edge of the doorway and check if Kuroo was still sitting there, his eyes glued to his computer screen. Kei couldn't even begin to imagine how embarrassed he would be if Kuroo were to hear any of this.

"And he's obviously interested in you," Tadashi shoved Kei's arm.

"No, he's not," Kei countered, turning towards the door with every intention to return to his previous task.

"He acts like an idiot when you take his order," Tadashi continued, "can't keep his brains in his ears."

"Maybe he's just an idiot all the time," Kei muttered.

"No way," Tadashi shook his head, "he's doing some Biochemistry degree. He got a perfect score on his entrance exams."

"You can be good at school and still be stupid," Kei wrung the cleaning rag in his hands.

He finally made his way out the door and back to the espresso machine. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Kuroo packing up his things.

Kei supposed he didn't look too terrible. He had this jet-black hair that sat atop his head in a tangled nest. Kei wanted nothing more than to take a comb to the mess, maybe even his fingers, if the situation was dire.

And he was tall--not taller than Kei himself, but few people were. And he had dark eyes. And a nice jawline. And a nice figure somewhere under all that black and flannel.

A little spot in Kei's stomach tugged at itself.

He pursed his lips and let out a huff.

Planting his hand on the doorframe, he stuck his head in to where Tadashi had resumed his sweeping.

"How do I even know he's gay?" He asked plainly.

Tadashi's eyes widened. A smile broke out across his face.

"He did get his latte with oat milk today," he said.

"That means nothing," Kei snipped.

"Hard disagree," Tadashi replied, "that's gaytivities."

Kei rolled his eyes.

"Fine, if by chance he /is/ gay," he muttered, "then how am I supposed to show him that I am too?"

Tadashi's eyes narrowed. His lips pressed into a pout as he thought long and hard.

He came to with an assured smile and a devious sort of twinkle in his eye.

"I have an idea," he said lowly.

🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈🏳️‍🌈

Kuroo arrived the next day at the coffee shop right as the afternoon rush milled out. He shoved through a crowd of patrons on the sidewalk and prayed that his table would be available again.

He prayed, also, that Tsukishima would be working the register.

Both of his pleas were graciously answered by whatever deity was watching over him.

He set his things down at his usual table, checking to see if the little folded piece of paper he'd constructed to even out the legs was still there.

It only took his coffee spilling all over his lap once to learn that lesson.

He reached for his wallet in his back pocket as he approached the counter.

Tsukishima was there.

Today, he wore a Pixies Shirt, a white one. And his cardigan was a dark oatmeal shade. On its own, it would've been sort of boring.

But he had adorned it with a multitude of interesting things.

There was a cat enamel pin on one side, a moon enamel pin on the other. There was a button with his pronouns. There was a button about the Smashing Pumpkins. There was another pin that referenced a book Kuroo hadn't read.

There was a volleyball pin and another with the university emblem and a pride flag.

And a--

"What can I get you?"

Kuroo had missed Tsukishima's question entirely. He was too busy gaping at the button on his cardigan. He had to make sure it was real, not some fatigue-induced hallucination he'd conjured up.

It was really a flag. It was really a pride flag--y'know, the gay one.

Kuroo's mouth went dry. All the moisture that had once been there flooded to his hands.

"Iced latte with oat milk?"

"Huh?" Kuroo hummed.

Tsukishima was watching him with a quirked brow. The tip of the marker was poised against the plastic cup.

"Iced latte with oat milk, right?" He repeated.

/He remembered/, Kuroo thought.

"Yeah," Kuroo replied in a voice he had never heard from himself before.

Tsukishima nodded and scribbled the order on the cup. Kuroo found himself at a loss for words and movement. He was stuck like some sort of statue at the counter, unable to muster any sort of retreat for himself.

"Cats," he eked out.

Tsukishima looked at him again with that puzzled expression.

"Excuse me?"

"You have a--pin," Kuroo pointed warily, "of a cat."

Tsukishima looked down to ensure that he, in fact, did have a pin of a cat.

He also had a pride flag pin. Kuroo wasn't about to point that one out. He might explode on the spot if he did.

"You like cats?" Kuroo asked.

He had never asked such a childish question before. Kuroo felt like there were bees in his head.

"Yeah," Tsukishima replied.

"Me too," Kuroo said, "I have one--back at my apartment. Her name is Chobi."

Tsukishima's lips twitched up into the smallest of smiles. Even so, Kuroo's chest thudded like a kettle drum. The bees had turned to fireworks and they were all going off at the same time.

"I volunteer at the cat shelter on the weekends," Tsukishima said flatly, "I can't have one of my own, though. My apartment doesn't allow them."

Kuroo felt like he was nodding too much. Was he nodding too much?

/Oh god, oh fuck./

"Maybe you could meet Chobi sometime," he rattled off without another thought.

He knew what he'd said a full second after it had already been said. Kuroo's jaw hung open in surprise of his own unconscious words.

"Sure," Tsukishima replied, "that could be fun."

Kuroo could only nod. He was an idiot. He was an idiot who could only nod and shuffle back to his table while his drink was made.

He thanked the heavens, though, for his grand idea to get a cat last year.

🧶🧶🧶

"He--commented on it," Kei muttered towards the floor where he was mopping.

"The pin?" Tadashi asked eagerly from the other side of the counter.

"Not the one you're thinking," he said, "another one."

"Well that's good," Tadashi said, "means he has eyes."

"And he invited me to meet his cat."

The sound of sweeping from Tadashi's side stopped entirely. Even though he wasn't looking, Kei could feel eyes boring into his skull. He glanced over to see Tadashi's mouth agape.

"Are you fucking with me?" He asked sharply.

"No," Kei replied.

Tadashi let out a matter-of-fact noise that startled Kei somewhat.

"What?" He asked.

Tadashi shook his head as though there was something Kei was missing.

"Proof, dummy!"

"Of what?" Kei planted his hand on his hip, the other around the broom handle.

"Of love and affection," Tadashi insisted.

Kei rolled his eyes, "You're delusional."

"No one invites someone else over to their apartment to 'meet their cat' unless they wanna make out."

"Eugh!" Kei groaned, "Take that back."

"No!" Tadashi huffed, "It's true. I'm a prophet."

"Oh yeah?" Kei retorted, "Then you predicted that I'm making you take out the trash tonight."

"Boo you," Tadashi remarked as Kei disappeared into the back room.

With his lips pulled between his teeth, Kei slipped the cardigan from his shoulders and ran his finger over the rainbow pin.

Despite what he'd told Tadashi, he was near confident that Kuroo was gay like him. But there was always the fear. It lived beneath the everyday--

the fear of being wrong.

The fear of scaring him off.

The fear of being ridiculed.

Kei wasn't exactly prepared to put himself back in that position.

"What'd you throw away today, gold bars?" Tadashi cried from the storefront as he hauled the garbage bag over his shoulder.

The next morning, Kuroo appeared earlier than usual. Kei hadn't started working until he had already ordered his drink and sat in the corner.

He looked doubly stressed today, twice the amount of books and papers littering the table and two new dark circles beneath his eyes.

Kei watched carefully as he scribbled something down onto his paper then stared frantically at the screen then missed the straw of his drink with his mouth over and over.

Remembering the time of year, Kei empathized.

The sun had gone down. There were only a few regulars left in the shop, Kuroo included. His drink was nearly empty, but his stress remained high. Kei could feel it from the register.

With a thick swallow, Kei brewed a green tea. He slipped a sleeve onto the hot cup and secured the lid, making sure the little string and tag was hanging off the side.

A friendly gesture, that was all it was.

He was going to bring Kuroo some tea as a friendly gesture.

Kei focused in on his own steps, muting the trembling in his hands with any thought other than Kuroo.

He approached the table silently enough that Kuroo didn't notice him straight away.

"Um--" he stammered.

Kuroo glanced up. Illuminated by the screen of his laptop, Kei could truly see the darkness beneath his eyes and the places in his hair that were sticking up thanks to his own gripping fingers.

"I--thought you might want some tea," he muttered.

Kuroo watched him for a moment. Kei felt that familiar tug in his stomach again.

"Thank you," he said, cracking a weary smile, "I don't--lemme find some change."

Kuroo made a beeline for the pockets of his dark ripped jeans. Kei set the tea on the table.

"Don't worry about it," he said, "it's on the house."

Kuroo's hand stilled. He looked up again with that same, crooked smile.

"I really appreciate it," he said lowly.

Kei nodded curtly.

"Stressed?" He asked.

Kuroo huffed out a single laugh. He smoothed back his hair with his hand and leaned into his seat.

"You could say that," he muttered.

"Midterms?"

"Are kicking my ass, yes," Kuroo replied.

Kei had his hands folded in front of his body. His blithe fingers wound around one another, the clamminess making them slip and stutter.

"I'm a Literature major so--" Kei said, "it's not nearly as challenging."

"It would be for me," said Kuroo, "I can't read a book to save my life."

"Really?" Kei asked.

Kuroo scoffed, "Gimme an equation, I'm golden. Gimme a short story--"

He shook his head. Then, he gazed up.

Kei's insides performed one synchronized backflip.

"I bet you're a wizard at it, though," he crooned.

It was Kei's turn to scoff.

"Far from it," he said, "I'm just a second-year student, I'm not even close to the tough stuff."

"I won't say that your third year is a walk in the park," Kuroo replied, "I mean--exhibit A."

He gestured to the mess of papers. Kei huffed a small laugh out of his nose. Kuroo undid the lid of the tea and pulled the bag out, setting it gently atop a napkin.

"I could use a break, though," said Kuroo, "if you wanna--sit."

Kei gulped, staring at the free chair. He thought of Tadashi and the broom in the back room.

"Sure," he replied anyhow, "I have a few minutes."

🍵🍵🍵

(I'm going to take a short break. Will be back to finish soon!!:3)

Kuroo had spent an extra ten minutes on his hair that morning.

Kenma had eyed him all the way down the hallway, intrigued enough by Kuroo's routine change to question him.

"Trying to impress him?" He asked in the doorway.

"Fuck off," Kuroo muttered.

Kenma shrugged. He fought off a smile that read 'I told you so'.

"We talked, that was all," said Kuroo.

"/Talked/," Kenma repeated in a sultry voice.

"Talked," Kuroo insisted in a normal voice.

Even though their conversation had been short, Kuroo learned a good bit about Tsukishima.

He learned that he was a Literature student at the same university as him and that his favorite time of day was when the sun went down and the moon began to show itself in the sky.

He learned that his band t-shirts had once belonged to his brother. According to Tsukishima, he went off to college and became 'too cool' for that kind of music. Tsukishima told the tale with a hint of disdain.

"I feel incredibly uncool for not knowing any of them," Kuroo had chuckled that night.

"Don't worry," Tsukishima replied, "it just means you haven't had anyone take the time to educate you."

"You're right," Kuroo said, leaning his elbows on the table, "I'm in dire need of a teacher."

Even through the shade of night, he could see the color change in Tsukishima's face.

"What?" He scoffed, "You think I'm gonna take on such a demanding job for /free/?"

Kuroo picked up his half-empty cup of tea. He held it to his lips, but paused.

"I mean, you're no stranger to freebies," he muttered around the spout, "right?"

The tea was lukewarm by now. Kuroo's face, by contrast, was hot enough to cook a fried egg.

Tsukishima had had to excuse himself when the final customer left and the official closing time came around.

"See you tomorrow?" He'd asked.

Kuroo was mid-shoving things into his backpack.

"Yeah," he replied, "see you tomorrow."

"You're a special breed of hopeless," Kenma muttered in the bathroom doorway as Kuroo relayed the events of the night.

"Does this look good?" Kuroo asked, motioning to his hair.

Kenma just shrugged and walked off. Kuroo leaned through the doorway.

"Thanks for all your help!" He shouted grimly down the hall.

Today, he was going back with his familiar bulging backpack in tow. He was going back to see Tsukishima Kei who was expecting him.

"That's your first name? Kei?" Kuroo had asked.

Tsukishima's lips twitched in light of the slip-up.

"Yeah," he stammered.

"I won't call you that, don't worry," Kuroo hummed.

Tsukishima glanced down to the table where his fingers were laced together tightly.

"I mean--you can," he muttered.

Kuroo nearly choked on his tea.

"If you want," Tsukishima amended.

Thus, the entire walk to the coffee shop, Kuroo turned the name over in his head.

/Kei./

/Kei./

/Kei./

He didn't want to stumble on it when the time came. It was late in the afternoon, the sun was dancing along the horizon of the buildings that surrounded him. Kuroo supposed that this was /his/ favorite time of day--the time that came just before the moon's appearance.

The sunset's rays streaked through the tall windows of the coffee shop. At the counter was Tsukishima--

no, /Kei/.

He was helping out a customer with a plain expression. The light wound around his blonde hair like a makeshift halo.

Kuroo let his things slump to the table in the corner. All the while, he watched Kei's thin, long fingers scribble out the customer's order on the cup. His thin lips mouthed along as he wrote.

Kuroo wiped his hands on his jeans.

The customer left. Kei turned to the espresso machine. Tadashi was hard at work at the other end of the counter. Kuroo approached with his hands stiff in his pockets.

When Kei finally looked up at him, ice water washed over him.

At the same time, he felt impossibly warm--impossibly safe.

His shirt: Talking Heads.

His cardigan: Pink.

"Hi," Kei said.

"Hey," Kuroo replied with a smile.

The watched each other for a moment. Kuroo could tell that Kei was holding back a smile, it shined through the fissures in his stoney facade.

"Do I need to tell you my order or--" Kuroo teased.

Kei's head shook. He blinked a few times in succession.

"No," he huffed, "no, I got it."

Kuroo gave him one last smile before he sauntered back to his table, willing his heart back down from his throat.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, night overtook the coffee shop where Kuroo was hard at work--

if you were to ignore, of course, all the breaks he took to watch Kei make drinks.

A song played right as the clock struck 8.

Kuroo glanced up at the sound of clashing drums and guitar. It wasn't the usual fare of the coffee joint.

He peered at Kei next with a quirked brow.

Kei grabbed a napkin then the marker behind his ear. He wrote something quickly on the napkin then held it up in Kuroo's direction.

It read:

Victoria
by The Kinks

Kuroo smiled, remembering the shirt Kei had been wearing the first day he ordered oat milk in his coffee. He flashed a sly smile, then returned to his work.

It was a good song. It was even better because it was a song Kei liked.

And it happened again later, another unfamiliar song playing over the speakers and Kuroo looking to Kei for guidance. He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth as he wrote on another napkin:

Girls on Film
by Duran Duran

Kuroo took a mental note of every song Kei taught him. And this time, before he could look away, Kuroo jotted something down on a blank page in one of his notebooks and held it up to the counter.

It read:

FOR FREE ??

Kei scoffed and turned back to his work. Kuroo watched him.

🎵🎵🎵

"I hope you've been holding onto all those napkins," a voice crooned from the other side of the counter.

Kei turned with a freshly washed mug in hand, his drying rag in the other. Kuroo was leaned up against the edge with his backpack slung over his shoulder.

"Don't you have a phone?" Kei snipped.

"I do," Kuroo shrugged, "why? You want my number?"

Kei's mouth went dry.

"Yeah."

The word was second-nature. Saying 'yes' to Kuroo Tetsurou was second nature. Kuroo's eyes widened for a moment. He must've been as surprised as Kei that the line worked.

"Okay," said Kuroo, reaching for a napkin.

Kei searched with him for something to write with. He was so engrossed in his search, in fact, that Kuroo's touch against his ear was the only thing that could tug him back to reality.

Kuroo had reached for him--more specifically, for the marker than was tucked behind his ear. The brush of his fingers had left a spot of heat along the soft shell. Kei sucked in a small breath as Kuroo took the marker, watching him all the while.

He only looked down once the pen was uncapped and poised to write. Jotting down a messy number, he handed the napkin back to Kei.

Kei exchanged them for the napkins from earlier.

"Thanks," Kuroo said with a crooked smile.

Kei just nodded. He didn't know how much more he was capable of. He watched as Kuroo left, the bell above the door tingling.

"This isn't getting you out of closing duties," Tadashi muttered behind him.

Kei tossed a straw at his face, javelin-style.

Kuroo Tetsurou was a man of typos and poor grammar. Tsukishima supposed he would let it slide, just for him.

kuroo: your working tomorrow?

kei: yes

kuroo: god bless :') midterms are almost oevr and im on the brink

kei: of what?

kuroo: MADNESS
Chobi can sense it
she's staring

They texted every day. Or, at least, that was how it felt to Kei. The days themselves were melding together, anything that didn't include Kuroo simply existing as something to fill the time until he saw him again.

A week passed by in a blur. Kuroo was coming to the coffee shop with less and less textbooks and worksheets and seemed to have more and more time to sit and talk to Kei. No matter how many times he reminded Kuroo that he was working, it never seemed to sink in.

"All the other customers are fine, look," Kuroo gestured to the patrons.

"I can't go around giving special treatment," Kei replied, "what'll my boss say on my evaluations?"

"Your boss, Tadashi?" Kuroo asked with crossed arms.

Kei quirked a lip at him and knitted his brow.

He did have to return to his work. It was, again, a pleasant way to pass the time in between Kuroo sightings.

As always, the sun began to set. Night arrived. Kuroo was typing away at his computer.

The patrons began to file out as the clock neared the shop's closing time. Kei kept looking over his shoulder, waiting for Kuroo to follow, but he never did.

The time finally arrived. Tadashi appeared with the broom.

"You gonna kick out your boyfriend or what?" He whispered to Kei.

"Shut up!" Kei hissed, "He's right there."

Tadashi looked to Kuroo, then to Kei.

"You can close up, then," he said, leaning the broom against the wall and undoing his apron.

"Wait, what?" Kei asked as Tadashi grabbed his things and headed for the door.

"Bye, Tetsurou," he hummed to Kuroo.

Kuroo waved. Kei watched Tadashi with wide eyes. He turned in the doorway and mouthed to Kei:

/Have fun./

Kei sighed in time with the closing door. The jingling bell taunted him. He turned swiftly back to the machine he was cleaning and tried to even his breathing.

Now, Kuroo could leave. Kei could close up all on his own and everything would be--

"Do you usually get left here all alone to close up?"

Kuroo was at the counter. He was behind him. Kei held the rag tightly in his hand.

"No," he replied, "just when Tadashi decides he's had enough."

"You should rise up, start a revolt against unfair company treatment," Kuroo crooned.

Kei rolled his eyes.

"It'll be a union of one," he teased.

"I'd join you."

Kei finally turned. Kuroo was leaned up against the counter, his lips pulled between his teeth and his eyes lidded.

"Sure, you would," Kei said lowly.

Setting the rag atop the counter, Kei stared back at him.

"You do know we're closed, right?" He taunted.

"You haven't turned the sign," Kuroo motioned towards the door, "how was I supposed to know?"

Kei rolled his eyes and marched to the front of the store. He couldn't sense whether Kuroo followed or not, but he didn't have the guts to look back and check. He simply turned the sign, pink-cheeked, then turned on his heel.

Kuroo was a mere few feet away with his backpack slung over his shoulder. Kei felt himself press his back closer to the glass door.

"Well, now you gotta let me through," Kuroo teased.

Kei's insides turned to mush. He swallowed hard as Kuroo's eyes flickered in what remained of the lights above them.

"Fine," Kei replied.

But he didn't move.

Kuroo still advanced.

They were closer now, Kei's back as flush as it could go to the door and Kuroo walking towards him as though he wasn't there at all. Kei held his breath as the air filled with the scent of Kuroo's deodorant and shampoo.

He stretched out his hand towards the handle.

But it never made it.

Instead, Kuroo's hand caught on Kei's side.

"You gotta move," Kuroo said lowly, close enough for his breath to brush against Kei's ear.

Kei just shook his head.

"Can't," he hummed, "we're closed."

Kuroo's face appeared, their noses just inches apart. Kei glanced all over as Kuroo got closer.

Kei's breath shuddered. He swallowed expectantly. His fingers pressed up against the glass behind his body. He'd forgotten to turn off the music.

But he couldn't care anymore.

He was kissing Kuroo Tetsurou.

Honestly, nothing up until that point mattered at all to him.

Kuroo's hand was still on his waist. His long nose was pressed into Kei's cheekbone. His lips were warm and somewhat rough and all-consuming like Kei had just jumped into a pool and let all the water encase him.

He tasted like coffee--like the coffee Kei had made for him earlier. Reaching up, Kei took ahold of his face he'd seen so many times, illuminated by the light of his laptop screen and stretched beneath his fingers from weariness.

The song changed. Kei chuckled against Kuroo's lips as their bodies shifted closer.

"What song is it?" Kuroo asked, his breath finding solace against Kei's teeth.

"Here Comes Your Man," Kei replied, "Pixies."

Kuroo kissed him again. Kei momentarily lamented that he'd have to clean his own fingerprints off the glass door, but he couldn't consider it for any longer than a second.

"Hey," Kuroo hummed against his lips, "are you by any chance--gay?"

Kei shot daggers at him from his eyes, shoving Kuroo back a bit with his grip on his shoulders.

"You're /so/--," Kei began.

He never finished what he was going to say. It seemed kinda pointless with Kuroo's lips on his.

On the counter, there was the napkin Kei had prepared. It no longer could serve its initial purpose, but the sentiment was all the same.

It read:

I like you.

// end

thank you for reading! here's the top of the thread

https://twitter.com/starbeyy/status/1533880115800702976?s=20&t=ARt2Fx_qWcrPwuxKmcOE4w

and you can find the rest of my threadfics here
twitter.com/i/events/15324…

i'll be basing the next few threadfics on the haikyu pride week event!! i'm excited for you all to read what's coming next.

in care you were curious, here's the song they listened to at the end :33
open.spotify.com/track/4IvZLDtw…