blind date | kenma kozume

# twenty-three

#23 | WELCOME BACK? 

As the plane descended and the lights of the city below came into view, the weight of the weekend finally hit you. It had been a whirlwind—late nights, vibrant laughter, and the unexpected kiss with Kenma that had left your heart in a confused mess. Neither of you had said much on the flight back. Between the exhaustion from the wedding and the muddled emotions swirling between you two, silence seemed like the easiest option. You both had slept most of the way, heads tilted in the same direction, shoulders brushing against each other now and then.

There was something soothing about the quiet. It wasn't the awkward kind of silence that you'd once feared when you first cut ties with him, but instead, it was comforting, grounding in a way. Like everything would be fine if the world just stayed this calm.

But the moment you touched down and your phone reconnected to the real world, reality began creeping back in. It buzzed in your pocket nonstop, the vibration a reminder of the life you had so conveniently ignored during the weekend's chaos. As soon as you slipped into the backseat of the cab, the noise from the city bustling outside, you pulled out your phone, fully expecting a flood of group chats, emails, and spam messages asking how the wedding was.

But instead, your phone was going absolutely wild.

Notifications—text messages, Twitter alerts, Discord pings—it was like the entire internet had decided to explode in your absence. Curiosity piqued, you started skimming through the messages, and one phrase kept catching your eye: Check Twitter.

With a sigh, you opened the app and almost dropped your phone. Your mentions were flooded with excitement, memes, fan edits, and congratulations, all focused on the same thing: You hit two million subscribers.

"Oh my god," you whispered, the weight of the moment slowly sinking in.

You quickly tapped out of the app and nudged Kenma beside you. He blinked groggily, clearly still halfway between sleep and wakefulness. "Kenma, look at this," you said, handing him your phone. "I just hit two million subscribers."

He took the phone, glancing at the screen. Even in his half-awake state, his brows lifted slightly, a lazy but amused smirk playing on his lips. "Well, looks like you've got a face reveal to do," he teased, the sharp edge to his voice cutting through the sleepy fog that had settled over the cab ride.

"Shit." You leaned your head back against the seat, letting the reality of the situation sink in. "I didn't think it'd happen so soon. I'm not prepared at all. I don't even have my setup ready. No lights, no camera—nothing."

Kenma handed your phone back to you, his smirk growing as he adjusted his position in the seat, crossing his arms lazily. "You can stream at my place. I've got everything set up, and I wouldn't mind. As long as you're good with it."

His offer came off so casually, but something about it made your stomach flip. Streaming at his place, alone, after the kiss and the wedding? It felt different. The weekend had blurred lines, shifted boundaries, and now, being in his space, especially after everything, made your heart race.

You swallowed, trying to keep your cool despite the thoughts racing through your mind. "You're sure it's okay? I don't want to intrude."

Kenma turned his head slightly, golden eyes meeting yours with a flicker of something unreadable, his usual nonchalant demeanor making it hard to gauge his thoughts. His messy, half-pulled-up hair gave him a devil-may-care look that made him more annoyingly attractive in this moment. He held your gaze for a second longer before speaking, voice smooth and teasing. "It's fine with me if you can handle it. Just don't start imagining weird stuff while you're there, Y/n."