HAIKYUU PROMPTS

Chapter 24: Sleeping In and Sleeping For the Wrong Team

Summary:

Pairing: Hinata (top) x Kenma (bottom)
Prompt by: Snow
Prompt: Sleeping beauty AU!
Its not what i was expecting but a realy cool concept

''Kenma,'' Kuroo walked into his son's room, looking at his watch, ''your teacher won't be able to make it today, so you have a long weekend. Just take care of yourself and don't leave the house,'' Kenma looked up at his father, opening his mouth to complain, but he was already swearing, muttering that he was late for work and hurrying out of their apartment. Kenma sighed. He was sitting on the floor in his livingroom, watching TV. He was gazing out of the window at the city spread outside, bustling with life. It was morning and Kenma was free.

Normally any rich, sheltered kid would jump at the possibility of doing something crazy – something they'd make a movie about. Running off to Las Vegas or throwing a wild house party, perhaps. But Kenma had none of these ideas. He simply turned back to the TV. Nothing interesting was on. He twisted his hair around his finger. His roots were showing – he'd have to re-dye it soon. Kuroo usually insisted that he go to a professional salon but Kenma liked doing it himself – messily, clumsily. It made him feel like a normal kid.

Being the son of one of the richest CEOs in the world wasn't as fun as it sounded. Kenma had practically a whole floor of one of the sky scrapers in New York to himself, but he could not throw parties. He had a massive allowance but between his tutoring, which begun at 7am and ended at 5pm, he had no time to go out. Because of his home-schooling he didn't have friends, so there was no one to go out with anyway. And Kenma had to be perfect – no girls in his bedroom, no going out after 7pm, no fast food, no electronics... the list was endless. Kuroo had been a 'fun' dad once upon a time, before his wife died. Now Kenma's life felt more like a rehearsed play than anything else.

He picked at the expensive carpet, ripping a soft strand out and rubbing it between his fingers till it turned to fluff. He sighed. His breath blew it off is fingers and towards the TV. Kenma switched it off and stood up. His resolve was strong – even without friends he could enjoy the city, which he was a stranger to even if he lived there his whole life.

He waited a while to make sure his father was well clear of the apartment. The last thing he needed was getting a lecture in the middle of a New York street. Kenma pulled on a hoodie and tucked his hair into it. He grabbed a hundred bucks, not really knowing what he was going to do with it, and tied his shoes. He went outside. He stepped into the lift, his heart hammering in his chest. He hopes his face was as straight as usually – if the receptionist of the apartment thought something was up, she'd call Kuroo imiediatly.

Thankfully she noticed nothing, talking on the phone and scribbling something down at the same time. Kenma stepped into the rotating doors and a second later he was blasted with chilly air that smelt like freedom. Okay, freedom didn't have a smell. The air smelt of petrol and smoke and breakfast.

Hunching his shoulders as if he could guard off the chill, Kenma set off in front of him, walking towards the most obscure part of town he knew – the past where his father said he shouldn't go, because he'd get robbed and stabbed. Well in the bright light of day it seemed unlikely that someone would want to stab a skinny kid like Kenma, so he walked on. He managed to slink through the dark alleys between buildings without trouble and entered the little street full of vendors and street food.

Kenma had grown to be a picky eater, so he didn't spare the Chinese and Indian delicacies even a glance. A dark skinned woman called to him from her divan, which housed golden jewerly and dream catchers. Another man encouraged him to try his crepes. Kenma walked on with his head down, until he reached the last stall. The man behind it wasn't calling to him. He was in a large jacket and a hat that hid a large part of his face in shadow. On his table were a dozen gaming consoles, and that's it.