no refunds! || kuroken

white day

"Hey, Kenma. Kenma~!"

It's a morning in March.

Okay, more like the morning. Kenma's least favorite holiday, and Kuroo's second most favorite (next to Christmas, as he told him excitedly the night before).

Kenma and Kuroo liked to spend time in his bedroom, or his living room, or sometimes Kuroo's bedroom and living room if Bokuto was out of the apartment, or didn't mind the intrusion. He found it a lot easier to look out of the window and watch the world with Kuroo, or to step outside and see what it had to offer them depending on the time of day.

And still, the sunset was always beautiful.

Spring was coming soon, the world blowing the last of its freezing breezes over Japan before then.

Kenma couldn't wait for the rain.

"Kenma~."

He hears Kuroo's voice beside him, and despite being awake enough to open his eyes and get out of bed if he really pushed himself to, he would much rather fall back asleep while he still had Kuroo pressed against him and the blankets were up to his chin, warm. The sunlight streaming through the window turns the midnight black behind his eyelids orange, as Kuroo scoots away from him and gets out of bed, letting the light hit him.

Kuroo, despite being excited, stops to look at him while he is still sleeping, while he was still for a moment.

His hair was messy and sprawled against his own black pillows, his dark eyelashes delicately curved, housing the most striking amber eyes Kuroo has ever seen. Sunlight pooled over his cheeks that carnations liked to bloom out of sometimes, that he would love to press his fingers into and kiss after not seeing him all day.

Kenma was pretty in the mornings.

Ah, a little more than that.

He reminded him of the Northern Lights in Alaska. They were always so brilliant, violets and greens painting acrylic strokes across a navy sky. Kuroo loved to bask in all of his lights and darkness, an electric bolt of purple when he smiled, or the soft runs of pink when he spoke.

He makes a point to visit there one day, to see just how they held up against Kenma's colors.

He thinks he would beat them anyway.

"D-don't...look at me...like that," Kenma tells him once he wakes, his eyes downcast as he brings the covers up over his nose, those same carnations that Kuroo loved so much blooming again, growing past the window and out of the door.

"You are so beautiful. That's your own fault." Kuroo says, and Kenma quickly hides his face completely beneath the covers, making him smile.

He was so endearing.

"St-stop that."

"It's White Day, today," Kuroo says, sitting on the edge of the bed beside Kenma, and the other peeks out behind the covers at him, taking in his bedhead and how the sun hits him perfectly, dressing him in a soft corona while a crown of gold sits atop his head.

He can't look at him, the light slashing through his brown eyes and making him look ethereal as honey falls from his gaze.

Kenma does not know how he managed to get someone like that to love him.

"It is," Kenma says, remembering the expensive chocolates he gave him exactly a month ago (and flushing an even deeper shade of red at the memory), and Kuroo gets up from the bed, after thinking a bit.

"...I have a gift for you," Kuroo tells him, and he looks to the ground, beginning to feel sheepish when he thinks about what he made for him, hoping he'd like it at least. Kenma never seemed to dislike anything he ever gave him, so he hoped this would be the same. "Remember when I told you I liked to paint? Even though I am not very good at it."