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He was pulled from unconsciousness by the helpless feeling of suffocation, chest heaving as he desperately tried to pull in just a little bit of air. His gasping breaths rattled throughout the silence of the room as his arms rose to claw at his chest, trying to dislodge the weight that wasn’t allowing him to breathe. His hands felt nothing.
The panic from his dream rendered his movements jerky and out of control, but whether he was lashing out at a threat or just testing his mobility, he didn’t know. That only amplified his terror.
A small part of his rational mind begged him to calm down for a second but how could he, when he was so overwhelmed by the crushing weight of this fear? He couldn’t move, he couldn’t run, and now, he couldn’t breathe. What was left for him? Of him?
The invisible weight on his chest doubled in size and he could still hear the sound of bullets ringing in his ears, the scrape of tearing metal, and purring of an engine assaulting him, trapping him in a moment he wished to forget.
His hand shot out beside him instinctively as it all became too much, searching desperately for reassurance of where he was, wanting to drag it closer, ground himself to something that wasn’t his spiralling thoughts. But his hand only met the cool, empty sheets. He gripped them in his fist, the material wrinkling under his hold and fingers cracking painfully at the strength.
Eyes flying open in panic, he scrambled to sit up, only one thought screaming through his mind. Where is he? Why isn’t he here with me?
He panted heavily as he hunched over, a drowning man pulling in deep, gasping breaths once he’s finally freed from the depths, searching in vain for his rescuer.
Calming down was a process and it was a while before he even registered the itchy feeling of eyes on him. Goosebumps pricked his skin and his spine stiffened as he turned slowly, finding the object of his worry standing in the doorway, watching him carefully by the light of a candle.
Shadows fell over him artfully, filling in the creases on his sweater and the spaces beneath his eyes, creating an ominous silhouette that almost didn’t look real. Kuroo refused to blink, too afraid that if he did, Kenma would disappear in the shadows completely.
Kenma continued to stare at him, unmoving and unwilling to speak first, patiently waiting for something that Kuroo wasn’t ready to offer just yet.
“Whatcha doin’ over there?” he finally asked once the silence was too much for him to bear, though he immediately regretted speaking. The words seemed to echo through his ears, gravelly voice hoarse with anything but the levity he desired. He was beginning to worry that Kenma could hear the pounding of his heart from across the room.
“Waiting for you to calm down,” Kenma answered, leaning against the closed door behind him.
The words made Kuroo sick, images of his dream flashing through his mind again. The van, the gun, the blood. How could he even begin to calm down? He shrugged his shoulders. “I am calm.”
“You were yelling,” Kenma stated with raised eyebrows.
Three simple words had his heart sinking with the weight of an anchor, threatening to drown him again, this time in embarrassment and shame. He looked away, tearing his eyes from the only form of comfort he had to stare at the blank wall in front of him instead.
“You must be mistaken.” His words sounded empty even to his own ears but he lacked the energy to sound convincing. His hands were shaking and he slid them under his thighs.
“Morisuke came to get me,” Kenma informed him, not making a move to come closer, which Kuroo secretly appreciated.
Fuck Yaku, Kuroo thought viciously, favouring to fuel his irritation rather than stew in his embarrassment. How the hell could he even hear me in the first place?
The retort was lost as he looked back to Kenma. The room felt delicate, fragile in an unsettling way. Kuroo wanted to break it, to shatter through his carefully constructed wall and Kenma’s apparent indifference, but he was glass himself, a tightly corked bottle and the words wouldn’t come out without a little bit of force from someone else.
Kenma was waiting on him but Kuroo didn’t know what to say. His desires blurred together, the need for comfort and the wish to be alone warring with each other in his frazzled mind.
The weight of Kenma’s stare wasn’t doing anything to help matters and the longer he stood there, the more Kuroo began to worry he was just an illusion.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he snapped, unable to keep the anger off his tongue, lashing out in a way he knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t help anyways.
“Like what?” Kenma replied, braving the rough waves and unbothered by the tone.
“Like I’m some kind of wounded animal.”
“Then don’t treat me like I’m stupid,” Kenma snapped back, crossing his arms over his middle.
The fire was there, all he had to do was feed it, let it grow into an argument that could spark some kind of feeling into him but he was still too deep in the water. “I’m not.”
“You are,” Kenma retorted, finally taking steps closer to the bed. “If you think I’ll believe that you’re fine then you must think I’m stupid.”
Kuroo sighed, folding in on himself as his forearms came to rest on his knees. “I don’t think you’re stupid,” he mumbled. “Just hoped you might have a bit of tact.”
“I have tact.” Kenma was now close enough to sit next to Kuroo on the bed. It shifted slightly under his weight, but not enough to bring Kuroo any closer to his boyfriend. “You’re the one lacking tact.”
“How the hell am I lacking tact?”
“Did you not think about how I would feel about you suffering? Or did you just ignore that and try to hide it from me to save some of your ridiculous pride?”
Well, shit. Was it really to protect his pride? No, that wasn’t entirely true. Kenma had seen him hit rock bottom and sink even lower and never once had he pitied or judged him for it. He wasn’t concerned about his pride; not here, not with Kenma.
“That’s what I thought,” Kenma quipped into the silence that had fallen over them. Kuroo rolled his eyes but the gesture was lost to Kenma in the downwards tilt of his head.
It was quiet for another moment before Kenma asked “Was it me?”
“Hmm?” Kuroo hummed, not really looking to have a conversation about it. The one time his boyfriend decides he wants to be talkative…
“Was it me?” Kenma repeated, leaning forward so he rested his chin on Kuroo’s shoulder. “Your dream? It was about me, right?”
Heaving a sigh, Kuroo focused on the warmth of Kenma’s breath on his neck and the solid weight pressing down on his shoulder. “Kenma…”
The weight was gone in an instant and instead of feeling lighter, Kuroo’s shoulders slumped heavily, already missing the subtle comfort from the touch. “Fine. Don’t tell me.”
He didn’t sound mad, just as indifferent as ever, but the words were biting enough to pull Kuroo out of his hunch. He glanced behind him to see that Kenma had curled up on his side, facing away from him and pulling the blanket over his body.
Following his lead and letting another sigh escape, Kuroo slipped back under the covers, propping himself up on his elbow so he could look down on his boyfriend. He paused for a moment, not entirely sure what to say.
“You’re thinking too loud,” Kenma complained, burying his face into his pillow as it absorbed his words. “Go back to sleep.”
Kuroo contemplated it for a moment before shivering at the prospect and groaning. “It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” he whined. “It’s just that I…”
Kenma made a muffled sound into the pillow before turning so he was now facing his boyfriend. “You don’t have to tell me,” he repeated. His voice was the same volume but something in it felt softer. “I don’t particularly care what your over-reacting imagination has come up with. I just thought it might make you feel better.”
“I wasn’t over-reacting!” Kuroo snapped, immediately defensive. “It’s a valid fear!”
“What is?”
“You, dying!” He exclaimed, the fear spilling out of his mouth before he was able to stop it. He was bothered by the manipulation but was too distracted by Kenma’s unimpressed face below him.
“Is that all?” Kenma drawled, and Kuroo just about lost it.
“Is that all?” he asks,” Kuroo scoffed, the arm he was propped up on giving out, sending him falling into the mattress. He threw an arm over his eyes to stop them from welling up. “God, Kenma, are you serious?”
It was quiet for a moment before the rustling of fabric sounded, waves crashing in his ears and the sea falling from his eyes. A quick tug on his arm drew his attention and he let it be pulled from his face, seeing Kenma hovering over him.
“Sorry,” he mumbled, one hand resting on Kuroo’s shoulder, warmth seeping in straight through his shirt into his muscles. “I only meant -- you know what, nevermind. That was a stupid thing to say.”
It was a stupid thing to say but Kenma sounded as if he sincerely regretted the words, so Kuroo let it slide. Instead, he blew out a breath and craned his neck, nudging his face against Kenma’s hand, wordlessly asking for more physical contact.
Kenma snorted at his neediness but his comfort level grew instantly as Kenma rested his hand on the side of his face, thumb brushing gently against the damp skin under his eye.
This time when he closed his eyes, the panic didn’t return, and Kuroo allowed himself a moment to bask in this reassurance. He focused only on the calming feeling of Kenma’s fingers trailing over his face and the even better feeling of his lips brushing over his nose, his forehead, his cheeks.
After a few moments of gentle touches and far too few soft kisses, Kenma spoke again.
“Are you okay?” he murmured, as if he was afraid to interrupt the peace they had settled into.
He took a moment to think about the question and was relieved to find that yes, he was pretty okay, now. He smiled in response, straining his neck up to press a kiss to Kenma’s mouth. “I’m okay. You okay?”
Despite his decreased panic in response to his nightmare, there was still the very real memory of Kenma almost dying earlier in the day and Kuroo knew that was a type of panic he was just going to have to learn to live with, an ever present ache that lurked in the back of his mind, ready to be pulled forward at any moment.
“We’ve already talked about it.” Kenma rolled his eyes as he saw sincere concern make its way onto Kuroo’s face. “I’m okay.”
He didn’t want to fight again so instead of a rebuttal, he let out a noise of frustration and wrapped his arm tightly around Kenma’s waist, pulling him into his chest.
“I know,” Kuroo whined as Kenma shifted into a more comfortable position, which allowed Kuroo to bury his face in his neck, and weaved his own hand through Kuroo’s messy hair. “I know that when I’m awake but when I’m asleep… It’s like my brain forgets.”
Kenma made a soft noise of understanding and his fingers clenched through the dark strands, fingers scraping against his scalp as a small reward for unloading some of his worry onto someone who was more than willing to share the burden.
He closed his eyes. It was easier to be relaxed here, in the quiet room and soft bed opposed to the bumping van, with Bokuto’s eyes flickering in the rearview mirror every few minutes. The frantic, rough grips morphed into composed, reassuring touches, away from prying eyes of anybody but the two of them.
“It’s hard to see you in danger,” Kuroo whispered, as if that was a well kept secret that nobody knew. Kenma’s muscles jumped slightly and he may have been laughing.
Kuroo ignored it. “I don’t want you to sit and wait for me to come back, because what if I don’t? I don’t want to be the one to sit and wait because what if you don’t come back? If we both sit and wait, I feel useless but when we’re both out, I’m still just terrified.”
He paused to give himself a break and recollect his thoughts. Kenma waited patiently for him to continue, pressing soft lips to Kuroo’s forehead to remind him that he was still there, listening.
“Today was shit,” he finally mumbled. “Not only because you almost died again, but because I could have been the one to do it.”
Saying it out loud made it far too real and Kuroo was choking again, his mind throwing him back into those few minutes of horrific realization.
“Bo warned me not to, but I shot the gun anyways and didn’t even think about that until he mentioned it.” He shook his head and pressed his face closer into the junction between Kenma’s neck and shoulder, trying to suffocate himself in something that wasn’t his thoughts. “So of course I feel guilty, and of course I dream about it. But when I woke up and you weren’t there --”
His voice cracked ever so slightly and Kenma jumped in then. “I’m sorry. That was my fault.” His fingers began combing through Kuroo's unruly hair and he could feel Kenma's soft breaths fanning over his side of his cheek. They were so close; he tried to focus on that.
“It wasn’t,” Kuroo tried to protest but was quickly interrupted.
“Shut up, yes it was,” Kenma huffed. “I should have realized how upset you were.”
“It’s not your job to take care of me.”
“It literally is,” Kenma disagreed. He pulled at Kuroo’s hair to urge him to lift his head. He felt vulnerable as he emerged from his hiding place and met Kenma’s eyes.
“It is my job to take care of you,” he repeated, golden gaze strong and unwavering. “It’s our job to take care of each other. It goes both ways.”
That part has always been difficult for Kuroo to grasp, a combination of his pride and protectiveness never letting him remember that sometimes he needed to lean on someone, too.
Kenma’s eyes were pinched in a small glare and eyebrows furrowed slightly. Kuroo pressed a kiss to his brow in an attempt to smooth it out. “I know that, Kitten,” he assured and Kenma softened at the sound of the nickname. “I just forget, sometimes.”
“You’re dumb,” Kenma stated with a roll of his eyes. “If it’ll help, just think of it as if I’m repaying you for your help in school.”
Kuroo snorted, the laughter bubbling up unexpectedly and bursting out his mouth. Now that he's older and there are more serious threats to worry about, he can admit that maybe he was a little too protective of Kenma when they were in school, but if it stopped people from picking on him, then he didn’t regret it. And Kenma certainly didn’t have to repay him for that.
“So, if I had asked, would you have fought off bullies and mean volleyball rivals for me?” he asked, grinning down at his boyfriend’s smaller frame.
“I love you, but I’m not stupid,” Kenma replied. His fingers had fallen from Kuroo’s hair to his throat, playing with the neckline of his shirt. “I wouldn’t get into a fight I know I can’t win.”
Kuroo laughed again, genuine and loud enough that Kenma was rolling his eyes and shushing him halfheartedly. He decided not to be offended at hearing that Kenma wouldn't just jump into any fight for him. In fact, he felt relieved, but he already knew Kenma was smart and methodical in his protection. Kuroo, however, was not.
When his laughs had subsided and he had fallen quiet, Kenma looked rather pleased with himself.
"Love you, too," he said brightly. Kenma grasped his shirt tightly in his hand, pulled him forward, and kissed him again.
The kiss was soft and dry, no teasing bites or probing tongues to distract him from his panic. Just a solid warmth against him, another reassuring reminder that Kenma was real and okay and here with him. He couldn't help smiling into it. He always marvelled at Kenma's quiet ability to calm him down, even when it seemed impossible in his mind. It only served to remind him how lucky he was and how much he loved this man.
“Tell me the truth,” Kuroo requested, wanting to get one last thing off his chest before he allowed himself to try and sleep again. “Were you scared today?”
Kenma was silent for a moment and his eyes fell downwards, staring at nothing in particular. While Kuroo wished Kenma would immediately answer no, he appreciated the thought going into the answer in order to give him an honest one.
“No,” Kenma decided, eyes focusing back on Kuroo’s face. He spoke with a finality that didn’t give Kuroo any room to challenge it. “Not really. Maybe a little worried, but that was for you.”
“For me?”
“And Koutarou.”
“Why?” He couldn’t remember him and Bo being in any significant danger today until they met back up with Kenma.
Kenma gave him a withering look. “I had a van. You didn’t.”
Fair point. He supposed locking oneself in a vehicle wasn’t a bad defensive idea, compared to him and Bokuto, who had been completely unprotected. Kenma must’ve noticed something shift in his expression and decided that this problem had been solved because he asked “Can we go to sleep now?”
Kuroo shifted up on the bed slightly so he could tuck Kenma under his chin. He buried his grin in dirty blond strands as he felt Kenma’s arm immediately wrap around his middle and squeeze tightly. Though he definitely was calmer after their conversation, nothing brought him peace of mind like having Kenma safely in his arms.
He thought Kenma had fallen asleep, so he was startled when he spoke. “If you have another nightmare,” he murmured softly, voice slurred slightly as he no longer tried to hide his exhaustion. “Wake me up. Please.”
“I will, Kitten.”
He made the promise confidently, mostly because he didn’t think he would have another nightmare. He was grounded now, gentle waves caressing him as opposed to unruly ones trying to pull him out to sea, the weight of Kenma against him more reassuring than anything else could be and the empowering reminder that he knew how to swim. They both did.