|| Oneshots ||

|| Kenma K. ||

|| Awkward pt.2 ||
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  The one thing you didn't account for, was the change rooms.

  Thankfully, the uniforms are kept in the gym, so you didn't have to stress about that—instead, you lock eyes with Kenma's gym bag as you pull the school uniform off and tug on the red and black uniform.

  Everyone was chatting happily around you, and you wanted nothing more than to scream that you wanted to go home in your own body where you could pee comfortably.

  Because trust me when I say, lunchtime was no fun—and Kenma felt the same, apparently, according to the long paragraph he sent apologising about the whole toilet fascio, and how he never would have touched you without your permission and how he hasn't even touched your chest today.

  Which, thinking about it,  would look pretty funny, you walking around with your arms all sorts of places to not touch your boobs.

  Then, came the warmups, as the team on the other side did the same, you all stretched—your eyes widening at how damn flexible this guy really is, and how you barely broke a sweat during the terrible dives (you sucked), the spikes (you sucked), and the sets (you did not bad, with all of the memories of the shows and Kenma's advice).

  The team didn't seem to notice anything different, thankfully, so when it was time to play, you could feel your nerves trickling through your veins, the crowds growing and growing until the gym was never silent and the heat of the bodies was overwhelming.

• • •

  «Shit. Shit shit shit.

  Kenma sets your delicate, non-calloussd hands on your hips, elbows out, as he sits on the train seat—your friend fiddles on her phone beside him.

  "Um, why are we going here again?" She asks, frowning at him as he tries to relax his posture to see more like this supposed uptight student of the infamous, rich kid school more well known as Shiratorizawa.

  "Because," he tried not to cringe at the sound of your voice, the high sound so weird when he was so used to his own deeper voice, then shuffled back on the seat. "I watched some guy's stream last night, and he said something about a game at his school that he was playing in, so I wanted to watch it."

  "Oh okay...since when do you watch YouTube? I have never seen you get on anything that isn't Google or that website for the school."

  "It's Twitch; and I don't know, I got bored and figured why not?"

  "That's doesn't sound like you...but oh well, does that mean you will come to the cafe with the girls and I tomorrow?"

  "Um," shit, knema thought. "I don't know, I'll tell you tomorrow."

  "Ah, okay then."

  Kenma puffs his breath, glaring at some guy staring at the two of them, and the guy quickly looks away.

  The train rattles, passing buildings and fields alike.

  All while, he keeps a close eye on your phone, secretly hoping you would text him and tell him that you had taken the sick option.

  This match was a very important one, and he didn't want to be the reason they failed.

  Soon enough, the train stops at his stations, and he quickly stands—Mabel gripping the hem of his/your shirt as he does so.

  «Gods I hate skirts.

  He tugs the skirt down, nearly daxing himself as he does so, but they still step out of the train, Kenma tugging them along. Mabel, still holding the shirt, gawks at the people and area, and Kenma has to adjust his pace to seem like he'd never been here as well.