Do you? (Kuroo X reader)(Suga X reader)

Chapter thirty eight: Old flame.

A week later:

He woke up shuddering, his bare skin prickled at the feeling of cool air dancing upon his shoulders. Reluctantly he got up, slamming the window closed, remembering her saying she felt more comfortable with it being open. He placed himself gently back down upon the bed, his gaze arching over his shoulder at her.

Her hair was stark black against the clean white pillow, laced around her head in soft frizzy tangles. Her shoulders were pale and slight, marked ever with the essence of beauty marks, her spine ever so slightly visible. He leaned over quietly, just enough to see her face, her usual tantalising blue orbs were shut, her cherry kissed lips parted in slumber, high cheekbones sticking out subtly on her profile. She resembled Snow White, so elegant and poised.

'I really ought to be happy,' he thought as he turned away bringing his attention to his hands that lay tiredly in his lap, most fingers bandaged up from practise, some still aching from repetitive spiking. Travelling back and forth from the city so home so often was getting exhausting, but he couldn't go back - not when you were there, not this late. It was his fault, if he'd bothered to face the problem head on then maybe it would have been resolved, maybe if he'd stopped being so scared of losing you then he never would have been without you. Because now he was trying to fill the whole you'd left with someone who didn't deserved to be used as a filler.

But the feeling of being held without the threat of chaos, to be kissed without all the guilt and to be admired without the expectation, without the responsibility. He was being reckless, but the distance felt safe, maybe if he kept his way from the fire for long enough then maybe it would fizzle out - or would it spread? Without the maintenance to keep it at bay?

It was wrong, to use her for the upkeep of his own longing for affection - but how could he possibly tell her that? That every kiss, every touch was so that he may not feel lonely - so that maybe he would stop missing you.

He reached for his phone, the metal cool against his hands. Without thinking he travelled to his gallery, the images you'd taken without permission, snatching his phone from him at the slightest opportunity. You were smiling in your novelty shirt, your hair tied in a limp knot on your head, the (h/c) strands falling around your face. His eyes melted into the familiarity of you, the curves of your face, the smoothness of your lips and the pure gleam in your (e/c) gaze. The picture made him homesick.

He thought about what would happen if he came back home, came back to you. Would you welcome him? Would you take him without question? Would you hold him?

His thumb slipped, bringing up your contact but he hesitated...

Or would you be angry? Upset? Would you turn him away?

He ran a hand down his face, shaking his head, 'this is stupid.' And with that he threw his phone down and exited the room, leaving his companion without second thought - to lay there alone.

*

They were strolling around the store, the three of them, halting on occasion to admire objects they deemed worthy. Though as of yet they hadn't actually collected anything, far to entertained to have taken the task seriously.

"So what do you exactly need?," Kenma muttered, trying to keep his head down in order to avoid anyone's recognition.