Work Text:
Kenma lives in a paradise.
He lives in a cosy apartment in the heart of Tokyo where he was born, now 25. He owns a game shop downstairs, earns enough money to comfortably keep him and Kuroo and him afloat, has a pet cat (calico, Kenma swears she’s Kuroo’s but takes care of her more than he does) named Chika. He gets to do what he has wished for since they were kids: live together in peace.
Today is Kenma’s off day (technically, he could make any day his off day but today’s special; it’s their 5th anniversary) and Kuroo’s determined to make it an amazing one. Which is pretty clear the moment he’s not woken up by Kuroo’s chiding voice telling him it’s 7 a.m and he really needs to wake up now and instead wakes at 10 (in the morning) by Chika’s weight on his face. Kenma can smell coffee from their bedroom and the aroma of something baking.
(kuroo’s probably making something for breakfast again)
Rubbing his eyes sleepily and sitting up (resulting in a few swats from the calico shorthair’s paws and a indignant yowl as she reluctantly shifts her spot to the living room), he decides that he can take his time brushing his teeth and responding to the texts from Shouyou as the sound of Kuroo’s whistling (a pop song he can’t remember) faintly echoes from the kitchen.
The breakfast is, predictably, a mug of hot coffee and a slice of homemade apple pie (Kuroo says he can have the rest later) and they chat idly as the sun filters in from the sliding glass door to the balcony that also serves as a window. Kuroo’s learned from experience that Kenma doesn’t do well in crowded areas, so they spend this day playing 2-player videogames and then cuddling on the couch watching horror movies (Kenma, surprisingly, does very well handling them; Kuroo doesn’t, so he picks sappy rom coms when it’s his turn to pick a movie) with the curtains drawn and the lights off, huddled under a blanket.
(kuroo’s very warm.)
When they return to their bed, it’s about 11 p.m and Kenma feels Kuroo’s warm, big hands rubbing comforting circles into his back as he curls into Kuroo with a contented sigh.
(kuroo’s comfortable.)
Kuroo nestles his head into the crook of Kenma’s neck.
(kuroo’s safe)
Kuroo smells like apples and their yellow-coloured lemon soap.
(kuroo is my home)
Kenma feels both of their eyes closing, feels both of their breaths slow, feels his fingers tangle themselves into Kuroo’s hair.
And hopes that he doesn’t have to face reality when he wakes up to a cold, lifeless memory-extracting machine and the crushing loss that he’s never going to see Kuroo again in flesh and blood.
(the thing is, he does, with a start and cold sweat. and he’s not too sure he wanted to leave that palace of lies if leaving meant kuroo was left behind too.)