Chapter Text
The first time Tetsurou meets Bokuto Koutarou, he’s in the middle of tending to another student.
“Give me just a second, I’m almost done. Please take a seat,” he automatically says, barely sparing the newcomer a glance as he finishes bandaging the banged up knee of the student sitting in front of him.
“Ouch, that looks painful. How did that happen?” He hears, followed by the sound of shuffling and a chair being pulled out. Tetsurou’s fingers pause in their work as he tilts his head sideways.
The first thing he notices is the bright golden eyes, gleaming even in the low light of the infirmary, curious with a hint of sympathy swimming in them. Then he notices the wild spiked up hair and the jacket around broad shoulders.
He lets the two students converse as he ensures the bandage is secure enough, before drawing back to his full height. It doesn’t get lost on him how the one with the hurt knee fidgets, a light coating of red on previously pale cheeks. Tetsurou can understand why.
He knows who the man is.
Bokuto Koutarou, star of the school’s baseball team. The hair and the eyes give it away even before looking at the jersey he’s wearing. Bokuto’s a popular guy, all award-winning smiles and muscular build. He’s warm and kind and strong, which is pretty much any young person’s ideal type, he’s sure.
“Thank you, Kuroo-san!”
The student with the injured knee thanks him, and Tetsurou forces himself to focus back on the present. He can feel Bokuto’s eyes on him as he smiles in acknowledgement. The student stutters out a goodbye to Bokuto before they finally head off, and Tetsurou has not much choice other than to meet that gaze with his own.
“So…” He drawls, picking up the roll of bandage he’d used from the bed. Bokuto’s seated in one of the two chairs Tetsurou has in the infirmary, so he decides to remain standing, leaning against the cupboard behind him. “What can I do for you today?”
“... Huh? Oh!” Bokuto blinks like he’s just come out of a stupor, making Tetsurou raise an eyebrow. The baseball star doesn’t seem fazed by his own slip-up, his eyes brightening as a wide smile forms over his face.
“I’m pretty sure I sprained my ankle. Didn’t see the rock by the side of the field,” he laughs sheepishly. Tetsurou hums, shifting so he can drag the other chair by its wheels to his side. He plops down on it before closing the distance between them slightly, wheeling himself until there’s just the right amount of distance for him to take a better look.
If it’s a sprained ankle, it would have been ideal for Bokuto to be laying down, but the only bed in the room had been in use when he first came in, and now the sheets are soiled with blood. Tetsurou has been telling the school administration to add another bed for months, or better yet, just straight out expand the infirmary, but they’ve still been sitting on their laurels for it.
He withholds a sigh as he pats his lap, gesturing for Bokuto to bring his injured leg up.
Bokuto does not move an inch.
Once again, Tetsurou’s raising his brow. Bokuto’s furrowing his, looking very much like a confused pup and Tetsurou has to swallow a snicker.
He’s professional. He isn’t in his twenties anymore the way Bokuto is.
“Give me your foot, over here,” he pats his lap again to emphasize his point, and this time Bokuto seems to get it. Tetsurou willfully ignores the sudden spot of colour over the athlete’s cheeks, readily lending a hand in support when Bokuto cautiously lifts his leg.
He’s careful as he folds his fingers over the back of Bokuto’s foot, and grabs a pillow to settle over his thighs before placing it down comfortably on the softness.
Tetsurou instantly sees the swell, and it’s fresh. He’s mildly surprised, and maybe a little bit impressed how Bokuto could manage to beam like that when the pain must be excruciating.
The skin around the swollen area has already darkened. Tetsurou frowns disapprovingly as he casts a glance at the athlete. “This is definitely a sprained ankle, alright… but it’s a pretty horrendous one. How did you manage to trip that badly?”
To his credit, Bokuto looks appropriately chastised as he leans back against his own chair. “Um… Sorry?” He offers, and Tetsurou sighs.
“Hold still, okay? I don’t know how you managed to even get here by yourself.” Tetsurou mumbles to no one as he very gently, very carefully lifts the leg up and redirects it to the bed; finding a spot without bloodstains. He props it down, pillow and all, making sure the ankle is properly elevated before he stands and goes about finding an ice pack.
When he spares a glance at him, Bokuto’s pouting slightly. If he had ears and a tail they would probably be down right now. Tetsurou pretends that he doesn’t see it because he doesn’t want to open that can of worms.
He’s used to it. The young don’t know any better, that’s why they sometimes vie for Tetsurou’s attention. Tetsurou has been told that he has a nice enough face, attractive in the ways that count. He’s no stranger to stuttering and blushing when he sometimes has to approach too close.
There are times it puts him in an awkward position, making him feel uneasy. But as long as it doesn’t disrupt his work, he mostly manages somehow. He’s learnt it’s best to ignore it, to pretend he doesn’t see it when it happens. And when the occasional student tries more, he puts his foot gently yet firmly down. It hasn’t backfired on him so far.
So this time too, he adopts an attitude of wilful blindness. He makes quick work of treating Bokuto’s ankle, telling him to keep the ice pack pressed against the swell as he goes about grabbing an ankle brace and a good ol’ pack of painkillers.
Looks like he would still need that roll of bandages, too.
Tetsurou can feel inquisitive golden eyes follow him wherever he walks. Although he refuses to look back and acknowledge it, the gaze that sears into his back is…
It feels somewhat different from all the other times he’s been through this song and dance.
No. Tetsurou can’t think that way. Never mind that Bokuto is literally Tetsurou’s type in one person. Someone with an amazingly bright personality, with an equally amazingly bright smile to boot. All the muscles are just endless additional plus points, really, the cherry on top of the cake.
Objectively, Bokuto is also attractive. The entire student body agrees with him — well, most of them. There’s a critical distinction between the student body and himself, however.
Mainly. Tetsurou is not a student.
He’s years ahead, he’s a proper adult. Sure, these students in university are adults too, but Tetsurou is older. Years older. Probably… at least 6 years older than Bokuto himself.
As the older one, he obviously has the responsibility to put a stop to any strange ideas. Including that of the romantic or sexual kind, when it involves himself. He’s just here to do his job, not create a scandalous relationship between school doctor and school student, even if the feeling of one particular student’s intense gaze sets the back of his neck on fire.
It unsettles him.
Come on, Tetsurou. He might not even be into you like that.
Maybe he’s looking too much into it. Bokuto’s known for being friendly and welcoming, and his eyes are just the way they are. Tetsurou has seen their intensity on the field before, when he’d been walking past on his way to the school gates. He has to think that he’s overthinking, otherwise Tetsurou would start feeling uprooted and begin questioning his sanity.
By the time he gets over himself, he has everything he needs in his hands. He doesn’t let himself hesitate, gripping the items tight before he stalks back towards Bokuto.
Bokuto who’s looking up at him with shining eyes, a big smile on his face.
Fuck.
“You’re gonna have to be off practice for the next month, I’m afraid.” The instant Tetsurou says that, he sees the big smile transform into a big frown, and he has to swallow another laugh.
Double fuck.
“Wha… That long? It – It doesn’t even hurt that bad! I swear.” Bokuto’s flailing his hands around, as if it would convince Tetsurou that the pain is minimal to him. Like hell. While it isn’t as serious as Tetsurou had made it out to be at first, the sprain is still of a moderate degree.
“You’re already lucky you don’t need crutches. If you had twisted it just a bit more, you probably would be confined to bed rest for the next baseball season.” Tetsurou shakes his head as he reaches over, Bokuto’s whines going in and out of one ear while he grimaces at what once used to be an ice pack on his ankle. That was fast. The summer heat made it melt much quicker than usual, but it would have to do for now.
He grabs for the chair he’d been using earlier and wheels himself closer once more, shoving the melted ice pack onto his desk as he gets to carefully wrapping the ankle with the bandages. “I’ll show you how to put on the ankle brace after this, and it stays on unless you want to worsen your injury, alright? I’ll give you some painkillers too, so if it hurts too bad, you can pop one. After food.”
When there’s a full two seconds of no response, Tetsurou furrows his brows. He looks up to see Bokuto once again staring at him openly. It falters his movements, grip tightening over the bandages — thank God he hadn’t started tying a knot yet.
“Okay.” Bokuto finally replies, and his voice is soft, but sure. It isn’t like he needed to talk loudly when they’re the only ones in the room, but there’s something in his tone… Tetsurou grits his teeth at the shiver that shoots its way up his spine without permission.
That response isn’t in the list of scenarios that Tetsurou’s used to and has experienced during his time working at this infirmary. Usually, a student getting caught looking would fluster, blush a little, stutter over their affirmations that they’d been paying attention.
Bokuto though… He appears as if he’d really taken in Tetsurou’s instructions. Unfazed, his bright eyes piercing into Tetsurou’s own.
Had he waited until Tetsurou looked up to say something?
There’s an uncanny sense of something like the tables being turned on him that has Tetsurou on edge. He can feel slight heat over his cheeks, and no, he isn’t going to let this happen.
“Good then.” He forces out, before tearing his gaze away and deftly securing the bandages. He’s still going to do his job properly whether or not he feels like Bokuto is getting under his skin. “Just make sure to be careful and you’ll be all good soon. You should let your team know. Thankfully there aren’t any upcoming competitions for the next month, right?”
Tetsurou finishes off the knot, and he’s confident it isn’t too loose, nor too tight when no sound of complaint comes from his patient.
Instead, Bokuto says: “You know our competition schedule?”
“No.”
Shit, that had been too much of a rapid-fire response to not be suspicious. What are you even doing? Tetsurou really needs to have a moment to himself after this, or maybe a moment with Kenma. Kenma always knows how to direct Tetsurou back on the right path whenever he starts to lose it.
He doesn’t even know what it is about Bokuto that gets to him so badly. He’s supposed to be just curious. Tetsurou’s interest had been piqued when he’d first started hearing news about their school’s up-and-rising baseball star and that had been all there was to it.
Still is that way. It just has to be.
“Do you like baseball?” Bokuto asks after a slight pause, his light inquisitive voice piercing through Tetsurou’s thoughts. He draws back, wheeling himself back to his table and putting some distance between them.
From the look on Bokuto’s face, he’d noticed.
“Not really. I guess it’s quite interesting, but I don’t know that much about it.” He puts away the rest of the bandages where they should be before taking the ankle brace up in his hands. “I just walk past the field when I leave here to go to the gates. Sometimes I see you guys practicing.”
“And occasionally one of you will end up here too, so.” Usually, Tetsurou wouldn’t talk quite as much as this, but he doesn’t see the harm in doing so. He’s a laidback guy who doesn’t shun from conversations with students who find themselves in the infirmary. Taking this as a chance to make it clear that he’s definitely not paying special attention to Bokuto’s sport seems like a good idea, too.
Despite all that he’d said, Bokuto’s eyes light up, and Tetsurou wants to groan.
“Take this.” He continues before the younger man can say anything, handing him the ankle brace. “You should wear it for the next month, except at night. You know what you should do with a sprained ankle, right? Icing it, elevating it, all that?”
“Yup,” Bokuto nods solemnly. “Not my first brush — or should I say twist? — with something like this.”
In spite of his best efforts, Tetsurou laughs. He hurriedly shakes his head, gesturing at the brace. “I’ll demonstrate how to put it on. It shouldn’t be too loose but also not too tight…”
Finally, it feels like a small mercy has been granted on his soul, because the demonstration goes off without a hitch. There’s not much else to do after that, with Tetsurou pushing two packets of painkillers into Bokuto’s hands and repeating his emphasis for them to be taken after food.
“You should be more careful next time,” Tetsurou murmurs mindlessly as he hands Bokuto his doctor’s note too. Tetsurou has deemed it best if he stays at home for the next few days, so he’d straight up given him a week off. The times are technologically advanced enough that Bokuto wouldn’t miss much, with all the lecture and tutorial recordings available to him online.
Bokuto opens his mouth to say something, but he’s cut off by a new voice.
“Bokuto! I’m here to get you, per Coach’s orders.” Another student pops their head in, and Tetsurou flits his eyes away from Bokuto’s face. “I’ll help you to the gates then we’ll call a cab so you can get home, yeah?”
He doesn’t hear Bokuto’s response, but he must be nodding because the next thing Tetsurou hears is the sound of shuffling.
“Thank you, Kuroo-san,” then comes his voice and Tetsurou has to look back. He’s being polite, not drawn like a magnet… He isn’t.
Bokuto’s smiling at him, and Tetsurou’s stomach churns.
“No problem. Take care,” he responds automatically, trying not to cringe at the awkwardness of it.
Bokuto doesn’t seem to mind anyhow, beaming at him for a second more before he’s being supported out of the infirmary. Tetsurou can’t help but watch him go, making sure the door is sliding back closed before he deflates.
Fuck. What was that?
That whole thing had been a disaster.
Tetsurou knows he’s screwed because the room feels like it’s a few degrees colder the instant Bokuto’s gone. Obviously there’s something about the baseball star that makes Tetsurou act differently than usual, something that keeps drawing Tetsurou in, and it’s not safe. He can’t be trusted around Bokuto.
He needs a plan. He needs to find a way to prepare himself for the next time they inevitably meet. Bokuto would have to come back for a check-up weekly until his ankle heals, and Tetsurou can’t run away from that.
He’ll be fine as long as he continues avoiding anything that might look like a sign.
He’ll be fine as long as he sticks to his guns.
But as much as Tetsurou keeps telling himself that, he can’t ignore the way a seed of doubt has sprouted in his belly; a bone-deep feeling of uncertainty and uneasiness he’s never felt before.
— ✧ —
By some miracle, the next few times Tetsurou sees Bokuto, nothing really happens that rattles him too much.
Or maybe he’s just screwed his head back on straight.
He’d talked to Kenma about this. That actually hadn’t been very useful, because Kenma was ultimately unhelpful to Tetsurou’s cause. In fact, Kenma had tried to sabotage Tetsurou’s cause, blinking deadpan at him and asking “What’s the problem?”.
So Kenma doesn’t think it’s a problem. Kenma’s on the side of “Bokuto’s an adult, he’s just a younger one than you are. But it doesn’t mean he doesn’t know what he’s doing. It’s unfair of you if you think that, Kuro.” and what could Tetsurou have even said to that?
He knows his best friend doesn’t see the problem because it’s true that both Tetsurou and Bokuto are perfectly consenting adults. He’d seen Bokuto’s profile when he had to pull it up for the whole injured ankle business, a school protocol that applies to every student who comes into the infirmary.
So Bokuto is 22, almost 23.
That had pulled at Tetsurou’s curiosity, too. He’s aware that Bokuto's in his third, going on fourth, year of university. Most of his peers must be a year younger than he is. Tetsurou couldn’t help but wonder why there was a year’s gap there, why Bokuto hadn’t entered university straight after high school.
Which brings Tetsurou back to his point, again.
That stupid curiosity of his doesn’t feel like simple curiosity anymore. It’s running deeper.
It isn’t morally wrong.
He knows that.
Still, Tetsurou can’t bring himself to pursue anything with Bokuto. Even if he isn’t as young, he’s still young. There’s a bright, shining future awaiting him, especially with all the rising recognition of him being particularly talented in baseball.
Tetsurou’s about to hit his thirties, it just wouldn’t be right. Bokuto should get with somebody around his own age.
Telling himself that no less than a hundred times must have had some sort of effect. Maybe it’s finally drilled into his head. Because when Bokuto comes in the next time, and the next, and the next for his weekly review about his ankle, Tetsurou remains unfazed. Even with the smiles, the questions, the eyes that never leave Tetsurou. Even when Bokuto thanks him again and again in that sweet way of his.
But Bokuto too, seems to remain unfazed.
He doesn’t push and Tetsurou feels guilty for the mild surprise he feels. Just because Bokuto’s the enthusiastic, friendly and eager type, doesn’t mean he would cross boundaries. He’s respectful and doesn’t bombard Tetsurou with small talk if he senses that Tetsurou’s withdrawing from it.
It just digs a deeper hole for Tetsurou to fall into.
He’s skirting around that hole, but he can see it getting deeper and deeper, as if he’s looking down into it and watching as the ground progressively falls away. The instant he lets his guard down and slips, he’s gonna come tumbling, and there won’t be any way for him to climb back up.
That’s how he feels. About Bokuto.
“Hey, hey, hey.”
Surprisingly, the fifth time Tetsurou sees Bokuto since starting work at the infirmary has the athlete hovering sheepishly at the door, his usually booming voice a tad subdued.
“Bokuto-kun?” Tetsurou’s surprised, gesturing the student in. When he spares a glance at the clock of his laptop, he sees that it’s lunch break. He returns his gaze to Bokuto then, watching as he slips in and takes his usual seat, on his usual chair.
Usual? No, he can still count the number of times on one hand. There’s no usual and there isn’t going to be, Tetsurou internally berates himself.
“What’s wrong? Is your ankle acting up?” Tetsurou blinks, examining Bokuto carefully. He doesn’t really look to be hurt, in fact he had barely wobbled on his way to the chair, which Tetsurou takes as a good sign. He knows how some ankle sprains can leave phantom sensations, which wouldn’t be good for an athlete.
“Ah — No, it’s fine!” Bokuto’s wide golden eyes sear into his, and Tetsurou blinks again at the stunned look on his face. He isn’t sure what has warranted that look. He waits for Bokuto to elaborate, to tell him why he’s here, but the younger man stays silent, barely blinking at Tetsurou’s face.
“Uh… Earth to Bokuto-kun?” Bokuto flinches quite apparently, adding on to Tetsurou’s confusion.
“Um… I…” It’s like he’s lost the reason for why he’s visiting the infirmary, or at least, the thought is banished to somewhere at the back of his brain. “Have — You — You wear glasses, Kuroo-san?”
Oh?
Tetsurou’s brows furrow, and his fingers instinctively move to push at the bridge of his spectacles. Right, he’d forgotten to put his contacts in today, because he’d woken up late after a long night of scrolling cat memes on the web. Not his brightest moment, but it was great entertainment while it lasted.
“Sometimes,” he acquiesces, lifting one shoulder in a half-shrug. It’s not like he needs them for his day-to-day activities, they’re more reading glasses than anything. He doesn’t think it makes him look too different, so he doesn’t understand Bokuto’s reaction.
“Oh.” Then, “They— They look good. Um. Great.”
Tetsurou’s brows pinch together further. He parts his mouth to reply, but Bokuto’s expression suddenly sobers and he’s smiling sheepishly again.
“Anyways! I’m here because I kinda… Got scratched? By an animal? I don’t know if that’s something you look at here but I just thought…”
He trails off. Tetsurou gets the gist, humming as he nods. “Well, I’m definitely no vet, but if it’s minor enough I do know a thing or two. What animal are we talking about though? If it’s not one I’m familiar with I think you’re better off going to the hospital…”
Honestly, Tetsurou can’t imagine what kind of animal would be living on school compounds, though.
“It’s… a cat.”
“Pardon?”
Bokuto flushes, and he flails his arms around in front of him, before wincing. Ah. So that’s where the scratch must be.
“I didn’t mean to! I thought it was stuck, I didn’t know it just liked to take a snooze on the tree. It was so high up. Can you blame me for thinking ‘Oh no, that poor kitty is stuck’ and trying to rescue it? How was I supposed to know I was interrupting its naptime?”
Bokuto’s whining in earnest, and Tetsurou… Fuck, Tetsurou feels his chest balloon with so much humour and glee.
He bites down on his lip to stem his laughter, fighting for his life not to give in. “So you… what, climbed up the tree to try and get it down?”
“Yeah! It took me so long to get up there, too, cause I’m not the most nimble person, you know, but I really wanted to help it get down. So I climbed up there and I tried to get it to come towards me, but it didn’t want to! So I had no choice but to approach it and hug it in my arm.”
Bokuto’s voice turns sullen, and even his hair seems to droop, “I should have known when it started hissing at me. I actually thought it was just scared, I was making all these shushing, cooing noises at it.”
Tetsurou’s lips wobble, and not even the most controlled, deep breath can prevent the burst of affection that overtakes him. It’s a slow-burning warmth, hidden behind the hilarity he finds in the situation, but later Tetsurou will recognise it for what it is and think to himself: I’m fucked.
“And then? It didn’t scratch you right then and there, did it?”
“Oh, no. So we get down, and I’m smiling at it— you know, cause it’s such a cute kitty, and I thought it would be glad that it’s no longer on the tree, but it— it pounced on my face! Luckily all the baseball training gave me quick reflexes because if I was a second later it probably would have gotten my face.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah, ouch!”
Tetsurou brings a fist up to cough into, trying to cover up the laughter that’s already beginning to unravel in his throat. “And— And how did you know it just liked sleeping on the tree, if I may ask?”
The emotion in Bokuto’s eyes turns absolutely despondent then. “After it scratched me, I let go of it. And it just did this super impressive jump and went right back on the tree. And napped.”
For a moment, Tetsurou just stares.
The very next second, he’s laughing hard, the kind that leaves his belly aching and prompts tears to his eyes. It’s his ugly, truest form of a laugh, and he’s pretty sure it’s the one that would have Kenma wrinkling his nose at him and saying “Kuro, you laugh like a hyena. How is that even possible.”
Through the wetness that clings to his lashes, he sees Bokuto with his jaw hanging open, a stunned look on his face.
Tetsurou swears he tries his best to curb it, pressing his fist harder to his mouth. “I- I’m sorry, it’s just—” He can’t even complete his sentence as he lets out a few more snickers, hastily wiping at his eyes with his other hand.
Ah, he needs to be professional. The school’s doctor shouldn’t be laughing at a student because he almost got mauled by a cat, over a misassumption of all things.
“O- Okay. I’m done now,” Tetsurou swears after another minute of chortling, and effortfully swallows any residual laughter that tries to leave his lips. His face is probably flushed from the past three minutes, and he does have the decency to feel embarrassed about it. Him having a laughing fit over some story, that’s a new low.
Bokuto though, bless him, seems to take it all in stride. In fact, he straight out pouts, the frown on his face leaving butterflies swarming in Tetsurou’s chest. Later, he would realise that he’d found that expression endearing, adorable, and realise once again that he is so very fucked.
“I know, I know. Curiosity killed the cat and all that, right?”
“Mm. Except it seems that the cat was the one doing the killing, this time.” At that, Bokuto’s jaw drops again, and Tetsurou clears his throat, a little too loudly. “Sorry. Let me take a look at the scratch.”
“No, no— That was a good one!” Bokuto’s eyes shine in earnestness, amusement dancing in bright goldens. Tetsurou can’t help but smile, gazing into those eyes, like time has stopped for a single merciful moment. That is, until he sees the emotion in them melt away into something tender, and it hits Tetsurou so hard that he almost bristles.
Shit. Shit, he can’t be doing this.
“Where— Where were you scratched? It was your arm, right?” Hastily, he tears his eyes away. He doesn’t let himself look back, doesn’t let himself witness Bokuto’s reaction. All he hears is a tiny inhale before he sees an arm raise from the corner of his eye.
“Yeah, it’s… it’s kinda nasty, I think. I mean, it isn’t that deep but it’s kinda long.” Bokuto’s voice has grown soft, digging trenches in Tetsurou’s heart. He’s become familiar with this tone even though he’s only known Bokuto for a short while. It’s the tone he uses when he’s giving Tetsurou space, when he’s backing off, as if trying not to frighten a skittish cat.
How amazing that this is the same person who couldn’t tell the cat on the tree was all too comfortable to stay there.
Tetsurou’s heart inflates without his permission. It feels like he already has half his body dangling down the hole, just a little more and he’ll really let go. Let go and just fall.
He pins his eyes onto Bokuto’s arm resolutely. The scratch is just as Bokuto has said; shallow, but almost spanning down the entire length of his forearm. The wound would have to be disinfected, and probably wrapped up.
“Hold still,” Tetsurou instructs quietly, standing so he can grab everything he needs. Bokuto’s eyes follow him, as they always do, but this time it burns Tetsurou up so much inside. He pushes at his glasses again; a nervous tick that only shows itself when he’s actually wearing them.
“Does it hurt a lot? If you’re in pain, I hope you won’t be going to baseball practice.” It’s a question as much as it is a warning as he slides back into his seat, disinfectant and bandages in hand. He starts to work on the scratch, buying himself just a little more time before he has to look back into those alluring, expressive eyes.
“No, it doesn’t hurt at all,” he can hear the smile in Bokuto’s voice, sending tingles up Tetsurou’s own arm. He bites at his lip as he works, just so he doesn’t slip up and say something he would regret.
Once he’s done meticulously cleaning the wound, he starts bandaging Bokuto’s arm. It’s only then that he allows himself to look at the student, their eyes meeting almost instantly.
Am I in a rom-com? If he wasn’t so bitter and torn up over his little situation, Tetsurou might have found that thought funnier. As it is, the thought is like a whopping zero percent funny.
“By the way…” Tetsurou diligently ties off the knot, and it feels like deja vu. He would think that they really need to stop meeting like this, but this is literally Tetsurou’s job. He hums to let Bokuto know he’s listening, gently putting his arm down. The loss of his warmth is an immediate, acute sensation that Tetsurou curses himself for feeling.
“Do you like cats?”
“What?”
Bokuto tilts his head, before repeating himself. “Do you… like cats?”
“Uhh.” The random question stuns him for a moment, but it’s actually a relatively harmless one. Bokuto must still be thinking about the incident with the cat on the tree. “Well, yeah. They’re cute, aren’t they?”
Bokuto nods, and his mouth parts, like he wants to say something. But then he shakes his head, and smiles again. “Yeah, they are.”
A strange feeling takes over Tetsurou. Whatever Bokuto had wanted to say… What is it?
Before Tetsurou can think more on it, he hears the school bell sound out down the hallway outside the infirmary. His eyes widen; that’s the bell signalling that lunch break is over. Tetsurou hears it every day so he can’t mistake it. Has time really passed that quick?
He watches as Bokuto stands with a beam that people around school have dubbed as the Bokuto Beam. Tetsurou isn’t immune to that beam. It’s so bright, and he must be blinded by it, because his heart fills with a kind of uncalled for melancholy at the thought of the athlete leaving.
“I should be heading back to class,” Bokuto states the obvious, but hesitates when he’s halfway to the door. Tetsurou follows after him stupidly, forcing himself to stall at his desk as he grips the edge of it with a hand.
What is he doing, really?
It feels like all the mantras he’s been telling himself are suddenly losing their effect, no matter how many times Tetsurou casts the spell, so to speak in Kenma’s language.
No, that’s wrong. They’ve never had an effect in the first place. Tetsurou has been so comfortable thinking that he’s been resisting, but the fact is, one small thing blooms between them and Tetsurou’s feet slide further down the hole.
“Thanks again, Kuroo-san.” Bokuto’s voice draws him out of an inner daze. Before Tetsurou can check himself, his traitorous mouth is replying with quite possibly the worst thing ever.
“Kuroo.” What? No, no, no. “You can drop the formalities, I’m not that uptight about them.”
Bokuto’s already wide eyes blow open even wider, and Tetsurou really wishes an actual hole would open up beneath him and just swallow him down. He can’t even take it back. To be fair, he isn’t being untruthful, but… he needs boundaries with Bokuto, for God’s sake. Bokuto with those eyes that are growing quietly exuberant.
“Then— You can just call me Bokuto, too!”
The way he sounds so excited over something so seemingly small wedges itself more painfully into Tetsurou’s chest. Thankfully, Bokuto doesn’t look like he’s expecting a reply as he finishes his walk to the door, only turning around one more time when he’s halfway out.
“You know, Kuroo…” And hell, why does it have to sound so nice coming from Bokuto’s mouth? “You’re really like a cat yourself.”
With that, Bokuto gives him one more large smile before he finally rushes off, likely pressed by the potential consequences of being late to his next class.
— ✧ —
Tetsurou stands there for a long moment after he’s gone, stunned.
Shit. He is royally fucked.