"Kuroo, I got half a heart." Kenma says in a quiet tone.
"Kenma, I told you! I want you to talk more! More on different topics other than your games, I mean." Tetsuro whines. The two Nekoma comrades walked along the street from their houses, as quiet as usual. Kuroo thought that Kenma should talk more, that way he wouldn't be bored for once while walking to practice. Although he said this many times in school, the PSP addict just couldn't talk about something other than games. The idea was bull crap to him.
"I can't even handl— Did you say half a heart?" Kuroo asks suddenly. Kenma abruptly looks up from his game to the taller male, widening his eyes. "N-no–" Before the blond could say anything, he got cut off by Tetsuro's eyes. It was gazing at him dangerously.
It made him want to cower in slight fear. The look in his eyes resembled one of mischief, and all his life he wanted to avoid such predicaments. What should he do? The losers literally challenging him to a staring contest. The shorter male thought better than to accept the invitation though, and instead thought of an elaborate escape plan.
...I should run for it.
Unfortunately, he couldn't. Who would leave a best friend hanging, anyway? Kenma slowly redirected his gaze to the floor, accepting the defeat. "So Applepi, who's the person who stole the other half?" Tetsuro smirks in triumph, placing an arm on Kozume's shoulders. "I.. I think it's (Y/n)-san." He admits shyly. Kuroo's eyes widened, believing so suddenly to Kenma. His award-winning smirk replaced by a straight line. "Eh? You're crazy, I get to stand close to her while you stay behind us. How did you get your heart stolen then?" Kuroo mutters. Kenma looks away, there was no way he would admit something worse.
"GeTRekT told me to meet her in the coffee shop." Kenma happily mumbles. "Sweet Café?" Asks Kuroo subconsciously. After their practice, the two immediately went straight out of the campus to discuss more about the (h/c) first year. At some point during their heated talk, Kenma's PSP got a message.
'Applepi-kun, meet me in Starbucks when you're free. I'm always here and excited to see you! XOXO'
"No, it's Starbucks. Have you tasted the cream puffs there, though..?" Kenma replies softly. "They're okay." While they were suddenly engaged in small talk, Kenma's stomach had been disturbed after the message. 'Its like GeTRekT is not (Y/n), but I somehow know she really acts like that.' Kenma quips, 'I shouldn't be thinking of (Y/n) like this. I should be thinking of exchanging phone numbers or something. How's Kuroo holding up?' Kenma peeps to his left, expecting the Nekoma captain thinking as well. On the other hand, he was jumping and twirling, messing up the bed hair intentionally to look cooler. Kenma sighed quietly, 'Not even a bit suspicious?'
-
'I am two tables to the left, away from the entrance.'
Another message was read and the two cats followed obediently. Stopping In front of the table, a figure covered by a newspaper, and a cup of green tea, they awkwardly waited until the newspaper was slowly folded to reveal the person.
"Aha! I knew you dirty cats were after (Y/n)! She's our beauty, along with Kiyoko—Ahhh! Kiyoko!" Tanaka's scary face was revealed, contorted from delinquent to love struck at the mention of the female third year. The two straight men were beyond shocked at how they were tricked. I mean, who even does something this stupid? Yuu pops up from behind with a PSP and continues, "As my fellow compadre was saying..." He clears his throat, about to say something very important as he places the PSP on the table, to which Kenma stared at blankly. "(Y/n) is ours, you losers! Get your own hot first year!" He quickly joins Tanaka's love struck state in seconds, leaving both Kenma and Kuroo to stare at them.
'That's what this was all about..? How irritating.'
After recovering from the squealing and 'it turns me on!'s, the two second years were faced with an enraged blackette and a fuming pudding head. "Err.. Um, Tanaka.."
"Heheh... W-what's up, bro..?"
"R-RUN FOR IT!"
YOU ARE READING
N e k o m a C a f é
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