Kuroo and Kenma. You met them earlier this year, during your first semester of college. They’ve known each other forever—grew up side by side—and sometimes, that fact sits like a weight in your chest. No matter how much time you spend with them, there’s always a quiet distance, like you’re orbiting a planet they both belong to. It stings more than you like to admit.

You like them both—maybe more than just friends, though you try not to linger too long on that thought.

You noticed early on how close they were. The way they brushed shoulders for a second too long. How Kenma would “accidentally” end up in Kuroo’s lap, like it was second nature. You told yourself it was nothing. Still, that third-wheel feeling crept in, stubborn and quiet.

Tonight, you’re at one of Kuroo’s frat parties. He always has something going on—people, noise, chaos. Kenma comes only because Kuroo insists. You tag along because, sometimes, it’s better to be surrounded by something than feel absolutely nothing.

You sit across from them now. Kuroo’s plastered, laughing too loud at some guy beside him. Kenma, half-drunk, slouches slightly—but somehow still ends up in Kuroo’s lap again, like it’s the most casual thing in the world.

Kenma takes a sip of beer from his glass. Kuroo drinks straight from a Yuzushu bottle, grinning at something no one else finds that funny.

“He’s drunk as hell,” Kenma mutters, rolling his eyes—but he doesn’t move. He stays right there, comfortably close, like always.

And all you can do is watch.