Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The bar was buzzing with conversation, the low hum of music threading through the air. You weren’t supposed to be here long—just a quick drink to catch up with Daichi, who had been nagging you about reconnecting ever since you got back. You swirled the ice in your glass, half-listening to whatever story he was telling when his face suddenly lit up.

“Ah, speak of the devil.”

You barely had time to react before Daichi was already waving someone over.

And then you saw him.

Kuroo Tetsurō.

It had been years, but he still carried himself with that effortless confidence, the kind that made people turn their heads before they even realized why. The sharp angles of his face had matured, his build broader, but the smirk? The smirk was the same.

“Well, well,” he drawled, sliding into the seat across from you like he belonged there. His eyes flicked over you, slow and deliberate, before they met yours. “Long time no see.”

Your fingers tightened around your glass. You weren’t sure what to say first—that you’d missed him, that you never expected to see him again, or that he still looked annoyingly good.

But all that came out was:
“…Yeah. It has been.”

You weren’t sure what you expected—maybe that seeing him again would feel distant, like running into an old classmate whose name you barely remembered. But it wasn’t like that at all. It was like muscle memory, like your body knew him before your mind could catch up.

Kuroo leaned back in his seat, one arm draped lazily over the back of his chair, watching you with that same unreadable look he always had when he was waiting for something.

“I didn’t know you were back in town,” he said finally.

“Yeah, just recently.” You took a sip of your drink, trying to play it cool. “Didn’t think I’d run into you.”

Daichi snorted. “That’s because you never asked.”

You shot him a look, but Kuroo just smirked. “Sounds like you were avoiding me.”

“That would imply I was thinking about you at all.” The words left your mouth before you could stop them, but Kuroo just chuckled, shaking his head like you hadn’t changed a bit.

“Sure,” he said, dragging the word out like he didn’t believe you for a second.

And maybe he was right.

Because now that he was here, sitting across from you, looking at you like he could still read you just as easily as before—you were thinking about him a lot.

The conversation settled into something a little less loaded, with Daichi doing most of the talking—something about work, old teammates, the usual. You let yourself relax, or at least tried to, but every now and then, you’d catch Kuroo looking at you. Not in a way that felt intrusive, just… aware. Like he was trying to figure out what had changed about you, if anything.

And maybe you were doing the same to him.

“So,” Kuroo eventually said, tilting his head, “what have you been up to all these years? Besides, you know, not thinking about me.”

You rolled your eyes, but Daichi cut in before you could fire back. “Actually, she’s been all over the place. Moved around a bit, did some traveling—”

“You make me sound like a nomad,” you muttered.

Kuroo’s lips quirked. “Not a bad thing. Means you’ve been living.”

The way he said it, low and sincere, caught you off guard. The teasing was gone, and for the first time that night, it wasn’t just playful nostalgia between you. It was real.

You cleared your throat, shifting in your seat. “Yeah, I guess.”

Kuroo nodded, like he understood more than you were saying.

Daichi’s phone buzzed on the table, and he sighed. “I gotta take this—work stuff. Don’t kill each other while I’m gone.”

With that, he got up and left, leaving you alone with Kuroo.

Silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. If anything, it felt like the two of you were waiting to see who would break it first.

Kuroo leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. “So, are we gonna talk about the fact that we haven’t seen each other in years, or are we just gonna pretend this is normal?”

Your lips pressed together, fingers tracing the rim of your glass. “What’s there to talk about?”

Kuroo huffed a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “A lot.” He tilted his head slightly. “But I’ll start simple. Did you miss me?”

You looked at him, really looked at him. The boy you used to know was still there, beneath the sharper features and the confidence that had settled into something smoother, more effortless.

Did you miss him?

Of course you did.

But you weren’t about to make it that easy for him.

You took a slow sip of your drink, then set it down, meeting his gaze. “What do you think?”

His smile widened, but this time, it wasn’t cocky—it was something softer. “I think,” he said, voice dipping just slightly, “that I’m really glad I ran into you tonight.”

And for some reason, that made your chest feel a little too tight.

Chapter Text

The bar door swung open, and a familiar voice rang out over the hum of conversation.

“Hey, hey, hey! Look who I found loitering outside!”

You turned just in time to see Bokuto Kōtarō striding toward the table, his grin as wide as ever. Behind him, Kenma Kozume followed at a much slower pace, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

“Bokuto,” you greeted, a smile tugging at your lips despite yourself. His energy was infectious, just like you remembered.

Kuroo leaned back, arms draped over the back of the booth, smirking. “Couldn’t resist crashing our little reunion, huh?”

Bokuto clapped a hand on Kuroo’s shoulder before sliding into the booth beside him. “As if I’d miss this! And look who I dragged along.” He nodded toward Kenma, who offered a small, lazy wave before settling in next to you.

Kenma’s sharp gaze flicked between you and Kuroo, assessing. “Been a while,” he murmured.

You nodded. “Yeah. Too long.”

The conversation flowed easily from there—Bokuto rambling, Kenma’s occasional dry interjections, Kuroo’s teasing remarks thrown in between. It felt effortless, slipping back into the rhythm of old friendships like no time had passed at all.

But every now and then, you’d catch Kuroo looking at you. Not in a way that made you uncomfortable—just… aware. Like he was watching, waiting, figuring something out. And maybe you were doing the same.

As the night wore on, Bokuto stretched, groaning dramatically. “Man, it’s good to have the gang back together.”

Kenma gave a small nod, barely suppressing a yawn. “We should do this more often.”

Kuroo’s gaze met yours, something unreadable flickering in his expression. “Definitely.”

You swallowed, shifting in your seat. The past had a way of creeping back up when you least expected it, but maybe, just maybe, it was making room for something new.

⸻

Outside, the night air was crisp, a welcome contrast to the warmth of the bar. Bokuto practically bounced on his feet, still buzzing with leftover energy.

“That was great,” he declared, stretching like he’d just finished a five-set match.

Kenma shoved his hands into his pockets. “You say that, but you’re terrible at making plans.”

Bokuto gasped, clutching his chest like he’d been mortally wounded. “I resent that.”

Kenma barely spared him a glance. “You resent the truth?”

Bokuto groaned before slinging an arm around Kenma’s shoulders, earning an unimpressed sigh. “That’s it. No more games for you.”

You barely registered their bickering. Your focus kept drifting to Kuroo, who stood a few feet away, hands in his pockets, watching you.

Not in an obvious way. But in a way that made it clear he was still thinking.

When Bokuto finally released Kenma from his hold, he turned to you with an expectant look. “Need a ride?”

You lifted your phone. “Already called one.”

“Alright, cool. Don’t be a stranger.” He grinned before clapping Kuroo on the back—hard enough that Kuroo had to take a step forward. “Later, man.”

Kenma gave a small nod before they headed off, leaving just you and Kuroo in the quiet street.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then, Kuroo let out a quiet chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “Guess some things don’t change.”

You tilted your head. “Like what?”

“Bokuto still acts like a golden retriever, Kenma still barely tolerates us, and…” He exhaled, looking at you through his lashes. “You still get that look when you’re overthinking.”

You frowned. “I do not.”

Kuroo smirked. “You do. Always have.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue. Instead, you shifted your weight, glancing down the road. “It’s weird seeing everyone again. Feels like no time passed, but also… like it’s been forever.”

“Yeah,” Kuroo said, voice quieter now. “I know what you mean.”

Your phone buzzed—your ride was a minute away. You glanced at the screen, then back at him.

He hadn’t moved.

“So,” he said, rocking back on his heels, “are we actually gonna see each other again after this, or was this just a one-night nostalgia trip?”

His tone was casual, but you weren’t fooled. Kuroo never asked a question unless he wanted the answer.

You could brush it off, keep it light. But something in you didn’t want to.

You met his gaze. “That depends.”

Kuroo raised an eyebrow. “On?”

Your ride pulled up to the curb, headlights cutting through the dark. You took a step toward it, then paused, glancing over your shoulder.

“On whether or not you text me first.”

And with that, you slid into the car, leaving Kuroo standing there, watching you go.

⸻

Kuroo stood on the curb long after your ride disappeared down the street, hands still stuffed in his pockets. A slow exhale left him, barely audible over the distant hum of traffic.

“On whether or not you text me first,” huh?

Typical. You were still good at keeping him on his toes.

He pulled his phone out, thumb hovering over the screen. You didn’t say he had to text—you’d just left it up to him. Which meant you wanted him to. Right?

He clicked his tongue, shaking his head at himself. Damn. You’ve got me overthinking like we’re seventeen again.

Shoving the phone back in his pocket, he told himself he’d wait. Not yet. He wasn’t gonna be that guy, texting the second you left, coming off too eager.

But he would text you.

Just… after a reasonable amount of time.

⸻

You didn’t check your phone right away when you got home. You tossed it on the counter, took your time getting changed, washing off the night. But the second you climbed into bed, you grabbed it.

Nothing.

You frowned, not sure why that annoyed you. It wasn’t like you expected him to text immediately. But something in you had been waiting for it.

You turned the screen off and tossed the phone onto the pillow next to you. Whatever. If he texts, he texts.

…

Two days passed. No message.

By the third day, you were starting to think maybe you’d misread things. Maybe he’d just been playing along, keeping things light, not actually interested in reconnecting.

You weren’t disappointed, exactly. Just… surprised.

That evening, you were scrolling through your phone absentmindedly when a notification popped up.

Kuroo Tetsurō: Took you long enough to miss me.

Your heartbeat stuttered for half a second. Then, lips curving, you typed back.

You: Bold assumption. What makes you think I was waiting?

The reply came almost immediately.

Kuroo Tetsurō: Because if you weren’t, you wouldn’t have answered so fast.

You huffed, shaking your head. Still so damn smug.

But the warmth in your chest betrayed you.