If there was one thing Kenma certainly despised as a teen, it was multiple-question answers. None of the answers were usually his own and there was never the option to pick: none of the above. It was like he was being forced to make a decision and he was certainly one that didn't enjoy that method of coercion at all.  “Kenma-kun, do you want to go to the arcade with me? You like games right?” the young woman asks, grinning as she leans over Kenma's desk. On instinct he recoils from his previous position and presses himself against the backrest of his chair. His hands were still hovering over the keyboard as he thought over his options. He wants to say 'yes' because he likes games, but he also wants to say 'no' because.he doesn't like people,2. He's in a relationship, and 3. He had no clue who this girl was. An arcade that is usually packed with people didn't sound appealing and definitely not with someone other than Kuroo. Kuroo was a man of good faith and patience, that four hours into a game wouldn't utter the words: 'You've been playing that for hours.... I'm bored....' He thinks about it for a moment, realizing once more, none of the above would be a suitable option to pick, yet not one available at the moment. So, he shakes his head and forces a polite smile to appear on his features, “No, thank you.” he answers as lightly as he could muster before turning his attention back to the screen in front of him. She leaves him in peace. It's a bit disappointing. He'd like to go but just not with her. Sometimes you have to wait in line and, worse than that, she'd probably expect to hold hands while they do. He takes a sip of his energy drink, awkwardly swallowing when a yawn unexpectedly creeps up on him. Late nights and early starts were a usual routine, but he could no longer catch a catnap in between activities like in kindergarten. ‘Highschool sucks’ Kenma thought to himself as the bell rang and he went to shift to another classroom. He forced himself awake for the rest of the day. When he got home he was so drained that he fell asleep. He woke up at 8:30pm. Just after dusk, Kuroo’s phone buzzes at the edge of his desk. I need your help with something, a new message from Kenma reads, and nothing further. “You didn’t have to make it sound so mysterious,” he says half an hour later, barefoot in Kenma’s bathroom with a bottle of developer in one hand. Even though the sun has set, heat still seeps in from the roof and Kenma’s cheeks still glisten under the fluorescent light. The sliver of scalp visible in the part of his black roots is a little too pink for Kuroo’s liking—he’ll have to lecture him on wearing the proper amount of sunscreen later. “I didn’t,” Kenma mutters back, curling his toes over the alternating blue and white tiles. He’s nestled against the side of the bathtub, wheat-gold hair clipped back in two barrettes with plastic cherries, clicking fastidiously away on his nintendo. “I just said I needed your help.” “And here I am, giving it,” Kuroo says with a long-suffering sigh, approaching the sink. “At nine o’clock. On a school night. Because I am—” “Kind, I know,” Kenma interrupts. He clicks his tongue at something on the console. Then, posture loosening, as Kuroo turns on the faucet, he repeats, unheard, “I know.” It’s Kuroo’s first time working with bleach, and the first time he has had a sufficiently reasonable excuse to fulfill his obnoxious and frequent desire to comb his fingers through Kenma’s hair. Kenma dips his head back obligingly at Kuroo’s touch, switching off his game and closing his eyes with a bare but contented sigh that wrings at Kuroo’s heart. The tile is cool and smooth on his knee when he drops it to balance better, his thumb grazing the ridge of Kenma’s ear and lingering for a moment just beside his jaw. Kuroo collects himself, relocating his gaze, and paints the roots carefully. The brush that came with the bleaching supplies is pretty cheap and the work is slow, but he makes do and is sure to keep checking the instructions. Kenma doesn’t seem to care about the tedium. After a while, Kuroo wonders if he’s fallen asleep. “Kuroo,” Kenma murmurs. Kuroo jumps. “Don’t startle me like that,” he says as he focuses on kenmas head. “You can’t just be dead silent for five hours and then suddenly say something.” Kenma glances at the plastic green clock mounted next to the sink. “It’s been ten minutes.” Kuroo churlishly swirls the brush in the bowl. He’s getting down to the last of it, and the timer he’d set on the edge of the bathtub only has two minutes left. Kenma had given him clear instructions on how not to fry the roots—it will take a few cycles—but he’s still concerned. He dabs some of it with one finger to spread it more evenly, and foolishly wishes for a second that he wasn’t wearing gloves, even if that would mean exposing his hands to bleach. The bathroom smells of chemicals and air freshener and Kenma, the harsh with the familiar. “What were you going to say?” Kuroo asks, lowering his hand and setting the bowl on the floor. Kenma opens his eyes, burnt gold settling on the ceiling. His arms hang loosely at his sides, hands gathered between his crossed legs, Vita set neatly on the floor by his knee. Kuroo has become quite good at deciphering Kenma’s assortment of pensive expressions, but this one he strangely cannot read. “Um…” Kenma answers. His gaze shifts, as though caught on something, a moth or a shadow, but there’s nothing there. The timer goes off, a brisk little ring that bounces off the porcelain like rain, and whatever Kenma may have said scatters at its interruption. Kenma reaches behind himself for the cold water spigot in the bathtub, the stretched muscle in his sweat-damp neck casting a shadow in the dip of it when he moves. Kuroo’s eyes follow the river. “Thanks for doing this,” Kenma tells him, bowing his head to the cold water. “Anytime,” Kuroo says, even as his heart says, ``Anything. Kenma finishes rinsing his hair and dyeing it. He was pleased with his newly bald head and he instinctively went right over to his desk and started playing whatever it was that came up first. Kuroo finished cleaning up and bugged Kenma a bit as compensation for his time and energy before he went back to his room finally going to sleep. Kenma turned it shortly after and they both woke up the next morning just to do it all over again.