did you think 
you could get away?
CHAPTER EIGHT

Somehow, Kuroo manages to find his girlfriend in the cesspool of sweaty, dancing teens. Maybe it was the Tokyo summer but the hot air was sticking to the nape of his neck and he could already tell the black strands of his hair were drooping downwards like leaves. 

"Hey," He taps Ayame on the shoulder.

She turns and Kuroo let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding in.

Ayame giggles—the taste of alcohol rims itself into the air, warm. "Don't think you're drunk with that attitude," She shakes her head.

Kuroo returns the laugh, "And I think you've drank too much," He snatches the cup out of her hand and hold it above her head. "If you want it, just take it."

"Wow," a voice says flatly, "What a tease."

"Kuroo," Ayame juts her head to the girl on her left, "Takara."

He waves to her with an almost-forced friendly smile. And Ayame's friends slowly come into view. She's saying something now—that girl, Takara—but his amber eyes were already glossing across the back garden of bodies that were gyrating to the music. Hands sliding up and down thighs, giggles and laughter ringing in between faces. He finds his nose scrunching up at the few faces that were glued together by the mouth. 

Mirai elbows him, playfully, "You coming to the decathlon meet on Monday?"

Kuroo shakes his head. He was hoping to use that lunchtime for a tutoring session. You're slippery, he'll say that, but the summer midterms were a month and a bit away. "Tutoring," He shrugs, keeping it short. "You?"

Mirai was first in the year for all things academia. Kuroo came a narrow second in the sciences to her for the second year in a row. She always struck him as too compartmentalised. He couldn't put a finger on it when he looks at her big, doe eyes and threaded eyebrows, but she looks at people like she knows them just from the first glance.

He didn't really like it.

But she was Ayame's closest friend since middle school, and it's not like he's dating her. So, he tries to relax a bit, half-wondering where a few of his own friends were. 

"Tutoring?" Mirai stifles a laugh—a hiccup escapes her and he watches her shiver. She's a bit tipsy, he thinks, "I heard you got landed with [L/n]. They wanted me but I already have two proteges."

"Proteges," Kuroo repeats, laughing. "Keeping a legacy, are you?"

She shrugs. 

He takes that as a cue to kill the conversation and looks away.  

And somehow, as if he was drawn to it, a slow, lulling sensation flooding him as the world was starting to spiral downwards, he sees you near the garden entrance. Your eyelids are halfway shut, and your clothes are a bit disshevelled. He doesn't know how to describe it. And your arms are draped tightly around Motoya—how did you know him?—before you release, plastering a wet forehead kiss onto the smack of hair he had on his crown. 

You disappear after that. 

"Was that—" Takara stumbles forward, eyes narrowing, "Oi, that bitch!" 

Mirai holds her friend by the waist; Kuroo thinks she brought her as a plus one or something. 

Takara looks mildly constipated, "They did that to my nose, y'know!" She points to her nose, where a delicate bandaid settled on the groove of her nose bridge. 

So the blood on that paper—

Kuroo finds himself doubling over and cackling. The mental image of you throwing a punch into this girl's face had to be the highlight of his night.

"Takara," Mirai says her name like it's a swear word, "Come on, let's get some more drinks, hm?"

The latter nods half-assedly and gets dragged away by Mirai, whom Kuroo mouths Thank you to; she gives him a thumbs up and disappears into the crowd.

Finally, Kuroo thinks, I have some alone time with my girlfriend.

Ayame takes his hand, rubbing her arm against his. She nuzzles against his shoulder, and Kuroo holds her close. He watches her eyes wander and follows them—they're on a bedazzled teen girl with a freak perm and neon mini-skirt. She looks familar, her sad eyes, even sadder smile, narrow stare and harsh eyeliner. 

"The whole thing's so surreal," Ayame breathes; her words are frigid on the tip of her tongue, chalked out in pants, and Kuroo figures the alcohol has done it's job. 

He slides his arm around her small waist, and she felt warm. That and the scent of her perfume sticking close to her hair, Kuroo thinks she smells like a scented candle. "What is?" He asks.

"Nakamoto-san," His girlfriend purrs, and she shivers as she feels his fingers their way up her back, sliding under her top, "Remember? That's—" Ayame stops herself, puzzled, trying to think, trying to form a coherent thought, and curses herself for the tipsiness, "Her dad's dead."

Oh.

Oh.

"I know," Kuroo says quietly. 

Ayame shakes her head, "Be careful of them. [L/n]-san."

Kuroo looks at her, padding his thumb gently against her fringe, pushing the stray strands out of her face. And her eyes are so full under the moonlight, "Why?" He tilts his head, edging her on.

He didn't know you during middle school but Ayame had. You two were classmates.

"It's in their nature to inflict pain," She says—something beds her voice. He can't figure it out right now. If only he was sober. And she finishes with a coughing spat. Kuroo pours her a glass of water from the table.

He brings it to her mouth, his other thumb softly parting her lips, and the sheen of lipgloss tickles his skin. "It's just tutoring," He laughs in a reassuring tone. What was there to reassure her about? 

He thinks you're strange but not weird; not killer material.

"Let's go inside for a bit," He hums, holding her hand and the smile Ayame gives him is wide and real. 

They leave the empty sky and sticky garden, trading it for the loud music as an excuse to block everything out.

———

kuroo tetsurou
hey btw lets meet on monday
lunchtime for a tutoring sesh

y/n

I got no say in this do I?

kuroo tetsurou
nope
why are you texting like that
 

y/n

text-to-tspeal

SPeehcch
hangover is hitting hard
see you on monday

——— 

Sometimes you like to pretend you're not actually yourself and that your real life is secretly happening very far away and you have no actual part in it. That you're not actually you: your parents aren't actually your parents, and your friends are a figment of your imagination.
Of course, given that your narcissism is a byproduct of your quintessential self-destructive personality, it's impossible to think that way for long.

But you still think that—like you were right now.

The bed you're laying on is weirdly uncomfortable and for someone you feel like you're having an out of body experience, but that might be because the room is fucking spinning.

Someone creaks open the door to the room you were using for your spiritual and habitual nap. You don't bother lifting your head because you're worried the sudden shift in weight could give you a brain anerysum. And you don't wanna die just yet.

"Sorry, folks," You grumble, "This bed's mine."

Kuroo's grandma apologises, "Ah, I did not realise my room was going to be used."

What—?

You sit up straight like a lightning bolt just crackled down your spine. "Oh, I—"

"Don't worry, dear," She smiles.

Old people smile like meadows. Like daisies and hot tea. And living room fires in winters.
You don't remember your grandparents. They died before you were even born. But you don't bother to waste your time grieving; feelings like that just end dragging you down. It dragged your mother down to the bones of her own body and now you have to watch her waste away.
But this care home was an outlet for this—the feelings you didn't want to confront. How cruel that a judge cloaked in a rich black robe and fancy glasses could determine this was the best for you, and even more cruel that they were fucking right.

"You're Kuroo's grandma," You say, "Grandma Kuroo."

"Obaa-san, would be nicer," She chides, stepping into the room.

You huff, "If you're coming here to tell me something philosophical, I already have a guy for that."

Where is that damn Scorpio?!

"Then I'll tell you something better," She hums, "How about I trade you? Stories of my grandchild for stories of your own?"

You feel sick. It has to be the alcohol, you think. Stomach breakdown. Protein. Whatever.
Her bones creak when she sits at the foot of the bed. You stay where you are.

"Okay," You reply, matter-of-factly. 

She tells you about how shy Kuroo was as a kid. That he used to stay holed up in his room until he met a kid in the flat above called Kenma. Pft, nerd. It's so weird to wrap your head around the fact that Kuroo existed well before you ever met him and he has his own life and you have your own. And that Kuroo doesn't yell at you, or spit insults your way, or ignore you in social settings. Sometimes you want to test how far he's willing to go. 'Cuz if it's act, it's a damn good one. But it will break, eventually. It must.

You tell her about the time your parents took you to the theme park. You were eight, nearing nine, and fresh out of a squabble with a boy in your class. Your dad drove the car two hours out to Osaka and he wouldn't let you change the channel so all the songs were from the 80s. And somehow your mom knew all the lyrics.

Tatsuya's knocking on the door—something about lunch needing to be served—makes you jump at the opportunity to get away from talking about yourself, which for the first time in a while, you didn't like.

"Long live the grandmas, or whatever," He says, and you slap his buzzcut. 

Grandma Rin uses her walking cane to separate the two of you.

———

Sluttierhaiiiiii :3
WHY IS MY NAME SLUTTIER
 
Sluttiest
hahahaha LMAOO
wait
WHY IS MY NAM
E
???

slut

Good afternoon to u guys too

Sluttier
ur so homophobic
just cuz I kiss One guy
 
Sluttiest
I'm GAY

slut
Arent u in love with the russian
guy in the yr below

 
Sluttiest
I'm BI
 

slut
ok so 
I think we need a recap
of last night

 
Sluttier
my house in 10?!

slut
Bitch no
Im at work

 
Sluttiest
i love it when u say work
as if ur not fucking court mandated
or whatever to be there
 

slut
EXACRLTY
Im working
(for the government)

 
Sluttier
hows the grandmas
 

slut
too loud for my hangover
kuroos grandma is so calm

 
Sluttiest
SORRY KUROOS GRANDMA?!
 

slut
Ok do not go w that

where i think ur going w that

Sluttier

one of us has gotta get laid ig

slut

Bye

Mr Miyazaki wacky fr

Sluttiest

see u at school lolol

Kaz meet us at the spot

Sluttier

Nah arent u gonna get in trouble again

????????????????????

Sluttiest

ok we'll just meet U after school

My house

Sluttier

ok see u

Sluttiest has changed the groupchat's name to Slut, Sluttier and Sluttiest