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yukkiji · 23 days ago

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after seven years of quiet devotion, a devoted secretary’s sudden resignation forces her boss to confront feelings he’s long buried. as boundaries blur and truths unravel, they both must face what’s really been hiding beneath the surface—before it’s too late.

haikyuu masterlist. leave a little stardust on my ko-fi

starring. kuroo testuro x fem!reader

genre: fluff, romance, slowburn, workplace romance, mild angst

wc: 6.8k

author's note: i was rewatching what's wrong with secretary kim earlier and an idea popped up, so this inspired by that kdrama and i think kuroo would fit sm

he early morning light filtered softly through the blinds of the japan volleyball association’s sports promotion division office, casting long shadows across the sleek desks and polished floors. the usual hum of printers and quiet chatter was absent; you were the first to arrive.

your heels clicked softly against the tile as you made your way to kuroo’s office — a glass-walled space at the corner, where the city skyline stretched wide behind his desk. the room smelled faintly of coffee and leather, a quiet comfort you’d come to know over the years.

you’d been with kuroo tetsurō for seven years. not in any romantic sense — he had been your boss from the very beginning, ever since he took over as head of the sports promotion division at the jva.

in your hand was the cream envelope you’d carefully written months ago, folding it with the hope and fear of a secret finally set free. until now, you hadn’t found the courage to give it to him.

inside, kuroo sat at his desk, black hair tousled as if he’d just rolled out of bed, a half-empty mug of coffee at his side. his eyes were fixed on a spreadsheet, brow furrowed in that familiar way — either deep in work, or avoiding something you weren’t sure you wanted to ask about.

he looked up as you stepped in. the usual smirk that played on his lips was gone, replaced by something quieter — curiosity, maybe a little caution.

“morning,” you said, voice steady despite the flutter in your chest.

“morning,” he replied, eyes narrowing slightly. “early.”

you moved forward and placed the envelope carefully on his desk. “i need to talk.”

kuroo leaned back, fingers steepled. “about?”

you hesitated, heart caught for a moment before meeting his steady gaze.

“about me leaving.”

the words hung between you, fragile and weighty.

kuroo’s eyes darkened, but he said nothing right away.

“this is sudden.”

“that’s why i’m giving my advance notice,” you said. “traditionally it’s two weeks, but i don’t want to leave right before the all-stars match. so, i’ll stay through the all-stars, and then i’ll be gone.”

he was quiet for a long moment, taking it in. finally, voice low but steady:

“seven years. feels like you just started yesterday.”

you swallowed hard, the weight of those years pressing down.

“i know. and i’m really grateful for everything you’ve given me, kuroo-san.”

he raised a brow, “so, you’re leaving to work as a secretary for someone else?”

you shook your head. “no. i’m planning to continue my master’s degree abroad, and after that, i want to find new opportunities. it’s not about working for someone else.”

“i could put you on indefinite leave if you want to keep studying,” he said, voice a little firmer now.

you sighed quietly. sometimes he could be frustratingly stubborn. he was one of the smartest people you knew — but somehow, when it came to things like this, he just didn’t get it.

“tetsu.”

you rarely used his first name, and when you did, it had weight. he fell silent.

“i want to grow. to see the world. to be more than this.”

“but—”

“no buts. once the all-stars match is over, that’s final.”

the room fell still again. the tension between you was thick but unspoken.

the next morning, the office was quieter than usual, the calm before the whirlwind of travel and events. you sat at your desk, finalizing the itinerary for the all-stars trip. your laptop screen was filled with flight details, hotel bookings, and meeting times — meticulous planning, the kind you’d grown used to over seven years.

kuroo stopped by your desk, glancing at the screen without really looking. “everything set for poland?”

you nodded, tapping the keyboard. “yeah, flight’s booked. we land in warsaw late evening. ushijima’s team is arriving the next day. i coordinated with him yesterday — he wants to go over the schedule before the first practice.”

kuroo stretched, eyes lingering on you for a moment before returning to his coffee mug. “you’ve been handling this kind of stuff since day one. you make it look easy.”

you offered a small smile, but it didn’t quite reach your eyes. “it’s not easy. just… familiar.”

he nodded thoughtfully, then gestured to the envelope still tucked in your desk drawer. “have you thought more about giving that to me?”

you paused, fingers hovering over the keyboard. “soon. after the all-stars. i want to focus on this trip first.”

kuroo didn’t press further. instead, he tapped the desk lightly. “we’re lucky to have you on this trip. it’ll be chaotic, but with you organizing, it’ll be smooth.”

“that’s the plan,” you said, eyes flickering to the window. outside, the city pulsed quietly beneath the morning sun — a reminder of everything waiting beyond these walls.

“i’ll meet you at the airport tomorrow,” kuroo added. “we’ve got a long flight ahead.”

you nodded, closing your laptop and standing. “i’ll finish packing tonight.”

as you walked away, kuroo watched you go, a quiet tension lingering in the space between you — unspoken words, and the knowledge that everything was about to change.

the meeting with ushijima in warsaw was surprisingly swift — the schedule and logistics fell into place far more easily than you’d expected. ushijima’s straightforward “yes” to the plans left no room for drawn-out discussions or delays.

kuroo glanced at you as you packed away the last of the documents. “well, that was faster than anticipated.”

you smiled tiredly. “it’s good news, though. means we can get ahead of schedule.”

after a quick check-in with the team and confirming the next steps, kuroo pulled out his phone and started coordinating the next leg of the trip.

“rome’s next,” he said, scrolling through flight options. “we’ll meet kageyama there, finalize his part of the all-stars lineup.”

you nodded, already feeling the familiar tug of excitement mixed with exhaustion. “i’ll update the itinerary and notify the others.”

with the poland stop shorter than planned, you both headed to the airport again, the rhythm of travel resuming.

as the plane soared toward italy, you leaned back in your seat, eyes on the city lights far below, thinking about how this whirlwind trip was slowly drawing to a close — and how much had changed along the way.

meeting up with kageyama was just as swift as with ushijima. the setter barely hesitated before agreeing to join the all-stars match — officially for the event, but everyone knew there was more to it.

“i’m in,” kageyama said simply, eyes sharp but with the faintest hint of a smile when kuroo mentioned the chance to see the old team again.

“don’t think you’re just doing it for us,” kuroo teased, earning a quick glare from kageyama.

“i’m not admitting anything,” kageyama replied dryly. “but yeah, it’s been a while.”

you exchanged a glance with kuroo, the easy camaraderie between them reminding you of all the years woven into these relationships.

“then it’s settled,” you said, closing your folder. “next up — argentina.”

kuroo nodded, already pulling up the flight details on his phone. “hinata and oikawa will be waiting.”

as you prepared to move on, the quiet momentum of the trip pressed forward, each stop bringing the team closer — and you closer to the end of this chapter.

the warm san juan air greeted you as you stepped off the plane, the golden light of late afternoon casting a soft glow over the city’s terracotta rooftops and bustling streets. the scent of fresh bread mingled with the faint hum of distant music drifting from open windows. it was a world away from the ordered calm of tokyo, yet somehow familiar — a reminder of the many places volleyball had taken you over the years.

waiting near the curb was oikawa, effortlessly poised as always. his sharp eyes caught yours immediately, a playful smile already tugging at the corners of his lips.

“look who finally made it,” he said smoothly, stepping forward with that easy confidence he always carried. “a fellow seijoh alum. honestly, i wasn’t expecting you to show up here.”

you returned his smile, a little amused despite yourself. “oikawa-san. it has been a while.”

“way too long,” he agreed, folding his arms with a grin. “but no hesitation here. count me in for the all-stars. right away.”

you blinked in surprise at his quick agreement. before you could respond, he added with a teasing tilt of his head, “and hey, while you’re here… maybe we should go on a date. catch up properly.”

he leaned in slightly, that familiar mischievous glint in his eyes making the air between you feel charged for a moment.

from the side, kuroo’s hand shot out, smacking oikawa’s head away before he could get any closer. “hey, back off.”

oikawa chuckled, rubbing the spot on his head with a grin. “relax, kuroo. i’m just teasing. but seriously, i’m in for the all-stars. no questions asked.”

kuroo smirked, eyes locked on oikawa with that sharp, competitive edge he always had.

you cleared your throat, stepping between them to break the rising tension. “let’s focus on the preparations. there’s a lot to coordinate before the match.”

oikawa’s eyes sparkled with mischief as he glanced between you and kuroo. “of course. but you can’t blame me for trying.”

the easy banter reminded you of all the layers beneath—years of rivalry, friendship, and complicated history. as you climbed into the waiting car, the city’s warm glow stretched out before you, the next steps of this journey already unfolding.

finally, the last stop was brazil.

the heat and humidity hit you the moment you stepped off the plane in rio de janeiro. the vibrant city buzzed with life—the distant rhythm of samba echoing through the streets, colorful markets bustling with energy, and the iconic silhouette of christ the redeemer watching over everything from its perch on corcovado.

waiting for you near the arrivals gate was kenma, quiet and unassuming as ever, earbuds in, scrolling on his phone. beside him, kuroo leaned casually against the wall, arms crossed, watching you with that familiar smirk.

“kenma decided to tag along,” kuroo said, eyes flicking to his longtime friend. “he’s one of hinata’s closest friends, so i just let him be.”

kenma glanced up briefly, offering a small, reserved smile before slipping his earbuds out. “hey.”

you returned the greeting, feeling the contrast between kuroo’s brash confidence and kenma’s calm, almost aloof presence. it was a relief in a way—the balance they brought to each other.

“so, this is rio,” you said, taking in the sights and sounds around you. “definitely a change of pace from argentina and italy.”

kenma nodded slightly, “it’s… loud. but it grows on you.”

kuroo laughed softly, shaking his head. “kenma’s way too quiet for a city like this. but he’s useful—good with planning and keeping things under control.”

kenma gave a small shrug, already pulling his earbuds back in.

you glanced at kuroo. “how’s hinata?”

“he’s fired up,” kuroo replied, eyes gleaming with that familiar competitive spark. “this all-stars match means a lot to him—and to all of us.”

the three of you headed toward the car you had booked to take you to the hotel. the city’s vibrant energy buzzed around you, but the exhaustion of travel weighed heavy in your limbs. luckily, hinata had agreed to meet up the following day—the hotel you were staying at was just a short walk from the beach where he usually practiced.

“good timing,” kuroo said with a smirk. “plus, you’re clearly jetlagged. not exactly your best day right now.”

you gave a small laugh, rubbing your eyes. “definitely. i don’t think i’d function well for much longer today.”

kenma glanced over, his calm voice breaking through the hum of traffic. “rest up. the match’s coming fast.”

the car pulled away from the airport, carrying you through rio’s bustling streets toward the hotel. as the sun dipped lower, casting a warm orange glow over the city, you felt the exhaustion finally catch up, the need to recharge before the whirlwind of the all-stars match.

the next morning, the sun was already high when you made your way down to the beach. the salty breeze carried the distant sound of waves crashing and the rhythmic thud of a volleyball hitting sand. your footsteps slowed as you spotted him—shoyo hinata, effortlessly leaping into the air for a spike, his energy infectious even from a distance.

kuroo was nearby, arms crossed, watching with that familiar smirk, but you could tell he was trying to keep up with hinata’s relentless pace.

“hey,” kuroo called as you approached. “ready to catch up with the little giant?”

you nodded, smiling softly. “yeah. it’s been a while.”

hinata landed and jogged over, sweat glistening on his brow but eyes bright. “you made it! didn’t think you’d be this close to my training spot.”

“thought it was a good chance to catch you before the match,” you said.

he grinned, tossing the ball up and down. “cool! maybe you can show me some of your moves?”

you laughed. “you’d be surprised how rusty i am.”

hinata’s grin widened. “doesn’t matter, we’ll make it fun.”

kuroo shifted beside you, clearing his throat. “don’t go easy on them.”

you glanced at kuroo, who was pretending to look away but clearly wasn’t letting the moment slip by. hinata, oblivious to the subtle tension, bounced the ball eagerly.

the morning slipped into afternoon as you all talked and practiced in easy companionship—a brief pause from the hectic schedule ahead.

at one point, you brought up the upcoming all stars match, glancing between kuroo and hinata.

“so, hinata,” you said, “are you really joining the all stars game?”

hinata paused, the ball still in his hands. a broad smile spread across his face. “of course! wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

kuroo chuckled, crossing his arms. “he’s been fired up about it since we first brought it up. guess he’s just excited to play alongside the others again.”

“yeah,” hinata agreed, eyes shining with determination. “plus, it’s a good chance to meet up with old friends—and maybe make some new ones.”

you smiled, glad to see the same fire that had brought all of you together years ago still burning strong.

as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting warm hues across the sky, you finally returned to your hotel room. your back sank into the soft covers of the bed, and a deep sense of relief washed over you—the project you had dedicated so many months to with kuroo was finally coming together.

just as you were about to close your eyes for a quick nap, a faint knock sounded at the door.

curious, you glanced through the peephole and saw kuroo standing there. he wasn’t in his usual suit and tie; instead, he wore something more casual—an uncommon sight that immediately caught your attention.

you opened the door. “yes, tetsu? do you need something?”

he hesitated briefly. “uhm, i know this is our last night before we head back to japan.”

“i’m aware.”

he ran a hand through his messy black hair. “i’d like to take you out for dinner. you know, to thank you for all your hard work.”

you blinked, surprised by the gesture but quickly nodding. “that sounds nice.”

kuroo’s usual smirk softened just a bit. “good. i’ll wait outside.”

you closed the door behind you, the quiet buzz of the city night just beyond. maybe this trip was already ending, but something felt like it was quietly starting.

the restaurant wasn’t far—just a cozy spot kuroo had discovered during one of his previous trips. the warm lighting and soft chatter inside made it feel worlds away from the busy schedules and long meetings you’d been buried in.

kuroo slid into the seat opposite you, his casual demeanor still holding that unmistakable confidence. “i figured you deserved a break. plus, it’s rare we get time like this.”

you smiled, feeling a surprising ease settle over you. “it’s nice. quiet.”

he nodded, eyes scanning the menu briefly before setting it down. “so, what’s the plan after all this? once you’re back in japan?”

you hesitated, then shook your head. “still figuring that out. continuing my studies abroad is the priority, but after that… i want to explore. see where i fit.”

kuroo studied you, expression unreadable for a moment. “sounds like you’re ready for something new.”

“yeah,” you said softly. “i think i am.”

the conversation drifted to lighter things—memories from past projects, awkward moments during travel, the subtle quirks of some of the players you’d met. kuroo’s usual teasing made you laugh, breaking through the tension you hadn’t realized you’d been carrying.

when the meal was over, kuroo stood, offering you his arm in a rare gesture. “shall we head back?”

as you stepped out of the restaurant, the cool night air wrapped around you both. kuroo kept his arm loosely around your shoulders—a quiet contrast to his usual confident, sometimes sharp demeanor.

“you know,” he began, voice low, “if you think about it, maybe you don’t have to leave.”

you glanced at him, surprised by the sudden seriousness. “what do you mean?”

he shrugged, trying to play it off like it was casual. “i mean, you’ve been here for seven years. you know the ins and outs better than anyone. you’re an important part of this team—and honestly, i don’t know how i’d manage without you.”

you bit your lip, looking away for a moment. “it’s not that simple, kuroo. i want to grow. see new things. this place… it’s comfortable, but maybe too much so.”

kuroo’s gaze didn’t waver. “comfort isn’t a bad thing. sometimes it means you’ve found the right place. maybe you’re looking for something that’s been here all along.”

you sighed softly, torn between the pull of new horizons and the weight of familiarity.

“think about it,” he said, voice quieter now, “there’s still a lot we can do together here. the all stars match is just the beginning.”

you met his eyes again, the challenge clear.

“i’ll think about it,” you said finally, a small smile breaking through.

kuroo’s smirk returned, just a little softer than usual. “that’s all i’m asking.”

kuroo walked you back to the hotel, the quiet streets glowing softly under the city lights. the night air was cool, but not uncomfortable—just enough to keep the moment lingering between you.

when you reached your door, you paused, the usual calmness suddenly giving way to something unexpected. without thinking, you leaned up quickly and pressed a soft kiss to kuroo’s cheek.

you pulled back instantly, eyes wide in surprise at your own boldness. “sorry… that was—i don’t know where that came from.”

kuroo froze for a beat, then a slow, unreadable smile curved at the corner of his lips. “huh. didn’t expect that.”

you hurried inside, closing the door quietly behind you.

but just down the hall, kenma—who’d been passing by—caught the whole thing from a crack in his door. a small grin tugged at his lips as he shook his head.

“kuroo,” kenma called softly with a teasing edge, “looks like someone finally got to you.”

kuroo’s dark eyes flashed, half-annoyed, half-amused. “shut up, kenma.”

kenma chuckled as he retreated into his room, leaving kuroo standing there with a rare flicker of something unspoken in his expression.

the morning after that quiet, fragile moment in rio, everything between you and kuroo felt like a glass ornament balanced on the edge of a shelf — delicate, one wrong move from shattering.

as you packed your suitcase in the hotel room, the kiss you pressed to his cheek replayed in your mind like a loop you couldn’t break. it had been impulsive, heat-of-the-moment. but it left behind a trail of confusion — not just for him, but for you. something small… that meant something too big to name.

at breakfast, you kept your eyes trained on your plate, pushing scrambled eggs around without appetite. kuroo sat across from you, unusually quiet. his gaze was steady, searching, like he was waiting for something — a glance, a word, a sign that the tension wasn’t all in his head.

you gave him none of it.

the ride to the airport was worse. you sat by the window, chin resting on your hand, watching rio blur past. kuroo was beside you, but miles away. his arms were crossed, his posture rigid. he didn’t speak — not a word — and you didn’t offer any. the silence between you had become its own language. one of evasion. one of grief.

and once you were back in japan, it only deepened. the office felt colder, though the air conditioner wasn’t to blame. kuroo had always been your rhythm, your banter, your tether — the rare constant in years of change. but now… he barely approached unless it was strictly work-related. and when he did try — small talk, coffee offers, questions — you sidestepped them with a tired smile and excuses that grew thinner by the day.

you could see the growing frustration in his eyes. the way his voice would falter mid-sentence. the way he would look at you, like trying to decipher a version of you that no longer made sense.

and yet… you kept pulling away.

until one afternoon, he couldn’t take it anymore.

he leaned against the edge of your desk — no smirk, no charm, just rawness simmering behind his eyes. “alright, what is this?”

you glanced up from your keyboard, startled. “what—?”

“this,” he repeated. “you. me. the avoidance. the one-word answers. i feel like i’m talking to a ghost.”

you sighed. “kuroo, i told you, i’m just tired.”

“no,” he snapped. “no, don’t give me that. you’ve been dodging me since rio. since—” he stopped himself, jaw tightening. “since the kiss.”

you looked away, guilt threading its way through your chest.

he stepped closer. “is this your way of making me get used to you not being around? of trying to make it easier to leave? because guess what? it’s not.”

you swallowed. “it’s not like that.”

“then what the hell is it?” his voice cracked just slightly. “because you’re pushing me out and pretending like it’s nothing. like we’re nothing.”

you stood then, trying to steady your voice. “i don’t want things to get messy. that’s all.”

his laugh was short. bitter. “too late for that, don’t you think?”

the silence after that was deafening.

days passed. weeks. and even as the all stars game loomed — the thing you’d both poured yourselves into — the wedge between you grew colder. wider.

then came the morning of the game.

the stadium buzzed with anticipation. lights gleamed from above, echoing across polished floors. journalists hovered, volunteers bustled, and the energy was electric.

but inside you, it all felt hollow.

you stood quietly off to the side, scanning the players as they warmed up. your eyes paused on kuroo, who laughed at something bokuto said, but the smile didn’t reach his eyes. you recognized that smile — the one he wore when something was bothering him.

when he spotted you, he made his way over, stopping a few feet away.

“you know,” he said, voice low, “this is technically your last day.”

you didn’t answer.

he ran a hand through his hair, hesitating. “look, i’m not asking for a dramatic goodbye. i just thought—after everything—we’d at least talk. really talk.”

you shook your head, arms crossed tightly. “there’s nothing to talk about.”

he stared at you, stunned. “that’s it? you’re really going to pretend like this—like we—never meant anything?”

you bit your lip, staying silent. if you said anything, it would all come undone.

kuroo’s breath caught. “you know, i thought brazil… i thought maybe that meant something.”

his voice dropped, thick with something too close to pain. “guess i was wrong.”

you turned your face away, not trusting yourself to look him in the eye.

and just like that, he stepped back. “right. well. good luck with your next chapter.” his voice was flat now. guarded. wounded.

as he turned to walk away, something inside you ached. but you stayed still. you had to. you had to.

the all stars game was a dazzling success.

the arena was electric — packed stands, camera flashes, thunderous cheers. the players put on a show worthy of the hype, the kind of match that lived up to everything kuroo had worked for. there were handshakes, interviews, confetti, and smiles.

but none of it registered for him.

not when he looked toward the sidelines and didn’t see you.

you’d disappeared right after the closing ceremony. no lingering in the hallway, no small talk, no casual teasing over the mic setups or souvenir programs. just a polite wave to the event staff, a tight smile, and a quiet excuse:

“i need to head back to the office. some final reports i need to tie up.”

you didn’t even meet his eyes when you said it. and you didn’t wait for him to respond.

so now he sat in a corner booth of a dim izakaya, flanked by familiar voices and fading adrenaline. his old nekoma team had rallied around him — yaku, kai, lev, kenma — all of them still buzzing from the excitement of the match, still glowing in the aftermath of the spotlight.

but kuroo? he nursed a highball and stared into the glass like it could give him answers.

“she really didn’t come?” yaku asked, glancing around as he sipped his beer.

kenma didn’t even look up from his phone. “she said she was heading back. didn’t want to join.”

kuroo let out a soft scoff under his breath. “of course she didn’t.”

kai gave him a look. “you okay?”

kuroo swirled the ice in his glass. “do i look okay?”

lev blinked. “did something happen between you two?”

there was a beat of silence before kuroo leaned back against the booth, head tilting toward the ceiling. his voice was low, but bitter.

“yeah. something happened. and then… nothing.”

he downed half his drink in one go before setting the glass down with a quiet thud. “we spent seven years building all this. not just work — us. the routines, the coffee breaks, the 2 a.m. calls about budgets, the flights, the after-conference ramen. seven years.”

kai frowned. “you sound like you lost something.”

“because i did,” kuroo muttered. “i just didn’t realize it was already slipping away.”

kenma finally looked up. “she didn’t say anything?”

“she kissed me,” kuroo said abruptly, and the table went still. “in rio. just before we left. it wasn’t dramatic. just�� a kiss. on the cheek.”

yaku’s eyes widened slightly. “wait, she—?”

“and then she shut me out,” kuroo continued, voice flat. “stopped talking to me. treated me like i was just another person in the room. and today? on her last day? she wouldn’t even have a conversation.”

kenma tilted his head. “you tried?”

kuroo let out a humorless laugh. “i told her. i said it was her last day, that we should talk. she looked me in the eye and said it wasn’t the right time.”

lev blinked. “maybe she was just overwhelmed?”

“no,” kuroo snapped, then softened. “no. she meant it. she chose not to say anything. she chose to walk away.”

he stared down at his hands for a moment. they were steady — they always were. but he felt anything but.

“i asked her if she was trying to get me used to not having her around. because it feels like she’s been practicing. piece by piece.”

there was something cracked in his voice now — not rage, not even heartbreak. just the quiet weight of disappointment. of something unfinished.

yaku leaned forward. “so what are you going to do?”

kuroo gave a small shake of his head. “what can i do? she’s gone. she made that choice. i didn’t even get a goodbye.”

kai sighed, rubbing his temples. “maybe she thought it’d hurt more if she said it out loud.”

“it hurts either way.”

kuroo’s voice was soft, but it landed hard. even lev had nothing to add.

“she made me feel like it meant something,” he said. “then acted like it never happened. so brazil… all of it… was nothing to her.”

no one contradicted him. no one tried to spin it into something more hopeful.

because in that moment, kuroo looked like a man standing alone in the ruins of something he didn’t know he’d built until it was already burning down.

the table fell into silence again, the buzz of the izakaya fading to the background. laughter from other booths echoed faintly, clinking glasses and upbeat music drifting through the air like a distant world they weren’t part of tonight.

kuroo stared at the condensation on his glass, jaw clenched.

“she didn’t even say goodbye,” he said again, softer this time. “not really.”

the ice in kuroo’s glass had long since melted, leaving behind watered-down remnants of his second or maybe third highball. he couldn’t tell anymore. time felt loose and strange around the edges, like the inside of his chest.

the others had fallen into soft conversation again — yaku arguing with lev about something stupid, kai offering quiet mediations between bites of karaage. kenma had retreated back into his phone, thumbs tapping away, a human metronome to the chaos around him.

but kuroo sat still. not drunk. not really. just… tired. in his bones. in his head. and most of all, in the hollowed-out place you used to sit inside his routine.

he stood abruptly, pushing his chair back with a scrape.

kenma’s eyes flicked up. “you leaving?”

kuroo didn’t answer right away. he rubbed at his eyes with the heel of his palm, then looked at his best friend with a new kind of determination cutting through the fog.

“kenma,” he said. “can you drive me?”

kenma blinked. “drive you where?”

“to the jva building.”

kenma stared. “it’s almost midnight.”

“she’s still there,” kuroo said. “she’s still working. i know her.”

yaku looked up. “wait, seriously? you’re going to the office now?”

lev perked up. “can we come—”

“no,” kuroo cut in, sharper than intended. then, after a breath: “no. i need to do this alone.”

kenma watched him for a long moment, then slipped his phone into his pocket with a sigh. “you better not throw up in my car.”

kuroo gave a small, breathless laugh. “i won’t.”

it was the most alive he’d sounded all night.

the ride was quiet. tokyo’s streets were washed in neon and silence, the late hour blurring the usual noise of the city. kenma drove with one hand on the wheel, the other occasionally adjusting the radio volume when it dipped too loud. he didn’t ask questions. he didn’t need to.

kuroo sat in the passenger seat, leaning his forehead against the cool window glass. his fingers tapped restlessly against his knee.

“you think she’s still there?” kenma asked, finally breaking the silence.

“she’s meticulous,” kuroo murmured. “even when she’s breaking my heart, she’s probably making sure all her files are sorted. i just… i have to try.”

kenma didn’t say anything, but he didn’t argue either.

when they pulled up in front of the building, the lights on the upper floor were still on.

kuroo’s heart kicked hard against his ribs.

“i’ll wait in the car,” kenma said, glancing over. “go do whatever dramatic, heartbroken boss thing you need to do.”

kuroo huffed a quiet laugh. “thanks.”

he stepped out into the cool night air, running a hand through his hair as he crossed the empty lobby. the building was dead quiet — even the usual security staff had dimmed the lights and nodded him in without a word. everyone knew who he was here.

of course they did. he built this place with you.

his shoes echoed down the hallway, every step like a countdown.

he found your office exactly where it always was — lights still on, your silhouette hunched over your desk through the frosted glass. your coat was draped over the back of your chair. your laptop screen cast a pale glow across your tired face.

you hadn’t left yet.

kuroo stood there for a second, just watching.

and then, with a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, he raised his hand and knocked.

once. twice.

you looked up slowly, your eyes widening as soon as you saw him.

then your expression shuttered.

you didn’t say anything as he opened the door and stepped inside.

but your voice, when it came, was wary. guarded.

“kuroo… what are you doing here?”

he closed the door behind him.

and the room suddenly felt too small for all the things he hadn’t said.

you stared at him, a hollow pit forming in your stomach.

he looked disheveled — like he’d run here without thinking. his tie hung lopsided, shirt untucked at the back, the sleeves slightly wrinkled. his hair, always messily stylish, now looked more storm-tossed than deliberate. and his eyes — god, his eyes — were shining with something too raw, too real to name.

“what are you doing here, kuroo?” you asked, quieter this time, arms crossing instinctively like you could shield yourself from the weight between you. “you should be out celebrating. the game was a success. you did it.”

he didn’t smile.

“i couldn’t celebrate,” he muttered, stepping into the glow of your desk lamp. “not when all i could think about was you packing up your things. leaving without a word. again.”

your breath caught. the last time you'd seen him, you hadn’t said goodbye — just left your resignation on his desk and walked out before the celebration started.

your lips parted, but the words wouldn’t come.

kuroo let out a bitter breath, like he’d been holding it in for days. “i’m such an idiot,” he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. “i thought giving you space was what you needed. i thought i could wait it out — that you’d come back, like you always did. but i let you drift further away. i let the woman i…” he stopped, jaw tightening. “…the woman i love walk away. because i was too slow. too careful.”

you took a shaky step back, your shoulder hitting the edge of your desk. the sudden pressure grounded you. “kuroo…”

“no,” he said sharply, voice cracking. “i can’t let this end like that. not when i’ve finally figured it out. not when i’m standing here, still wanting you more than anything else in the world.”

“tetsu… you’re drunk,” you said, trying to soften the tremble in your voice. “did you… did you drive here like this?”

the worry cracked through the tension, sharp and instinctive.

kuroo blinked at you, then immediately shook his head. “no—no, i didn’t. kenma drove me.” he swallowed hard. “he said i’d regret it if i didn’t go after you. and he was right.”

you exhaled shakily, the thought of him on the road drunk knotting your stomach. “god, kuroo, you scared me.”

“i know. i didn’t think, i just—” he stepped forward again. “i just knew i couldn’t let you leave like that. not without telling you what i should’ve told you a long time ago.”

you watched him, silent, heart thudding in your chest like it wanted to crawl out of your ribs.

“i love you,” he said, more softly now — like it hurt to admit. “and i should’ve told you in brazil. or when we were in argentina, laughing over shitty hotel food in the hallway. hell, maybe back when you used to bring me coffee during those overnight meetings just because you knew i’d forget to eat.”

you turned your face away, throat tight.

“but i didn’t,” he continued, his voice trembling now. “because i was afraid. because i didn’t want to ruin everything we built. and now? not saying anything ruined it anyway.”

“tetsu…”

he braced his hands on either side of you, leaning on your desk — close enough to feel his breath, but still not touching you. still giving you room.

“i know i messed up,” he said. “and i know i don’t get to ask you to stay. but if there’s even a sliver of you that still wants me too—if there’s even a flicker of us left—i’m not walking away. not without a fight.”

you blinked quickly, trying to stop the tears that had started gathering behind your eyes.

“why now?” you asked, barely a whisper.

kuroo let out a breath like the question gutted him. “because i saw your empty desk tonight. and it felt like someone had punched a hole through me. it felt like everything was darker. quieter. wrong.”

you bit your lip hard. “but what if it doesn’t work out?”

“then it doesn’t,” he said simply, shoulders rising and falling in a shaky breath. “but at least we’ll know. at least i won’t have to spend the rest of my life wondering what might’ve happened if i’d just opened my damn mouth.”

he reached for your hand then — slow, hesitant — brushing his fingers over yours like he didn’t deserve even that.

“i don’t want to go back to pretending,” he said. “i don’t want to keep acting like i don’t look for you in every room. like i don’t ache when you’re not there.”

the silence in the office felt deafening — the kind that settles when something important is about to happen.

“i love you,” he repeated, quieter now. “even if i am drunk. i’d say it again tomorrow. and the day after that.”

your fingers trembled as you reached for him, finally lacing your hand with his. and the way kuroo’s body sagged — like he’d been holding up an entire building on his shoulders — made your heart twist.

“i love you too.”

the words left before you could stop them, raw and fragile, but real.

kuroo blinked at you, like he didn’t believe what he heard. “you—what?”

“i love you, tetsu,” you said, clearer now. “that’s what scares me the most.”

he stared at you like he didn’t know whether to cry or kiss you.

“then why were you going to leave?” he asked hoarsely. “why didn’t you tell me?”

you looked down, unable to meet his eyes. “because i don’t know who i am outside of this. this job. this team. you. i’ve spent seven years orbiting you, kuroo. i needed to know i could stand on my own without falling apart.”

you glanced up to see him flinch, like your honesty physically hurt.

“i thought if i stayed, i’d never learn who i was without you,” you added softly. “and that scared me.”

he didn’t speak right away. when he finally did, it was almost a whisper.

“you thought loving me meant giving up yourself.”

you nodded once, and his eyes shuttered.

“i won’t be the reason you stay small,” he said. “but don’t think for a second that i won’t love you while you grow. even if you grow away from me.”

you bit your lip, hard. “i want to be with you. but i’m still scared.”

“then be scared,” he said, cupping your cheek, voice fraying at the edges. “be terrified. i am too. but don’t walk away thinking you have to do it alone.”

you exhaled shakily. “it’s going to be messy.”

“good,” he murmured. “i like messy.”

you laughed — a broken, breathless sound — and kuroo leaned in slowly, like he still expected you to push him away.

but you didn’t.

you rose on your toes, fingers fisting in the fabric of his shirt, and kissed him.

it was tentative at first — searching, unsure — but it deepened quickly, years of repressed feelings rushing to the surface all at once. his hand cradled the back of your neck, the other pressing into the curve of your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear again.

and when you pulled away — breathless, eyes stinging — his forehead rested against yours, a shaky smile ghosting his lips.

“i thought i lost you,” he whispered.

“you almost did,” you whispered back. “but i didn’t want to be found until i knew who i was without you.”

“and now?” he asked.

you took a breath. “now i want to figure it out with you. slowly. on my terms.”

he nodded, brushing his thumb over your cheek. “then we’ll grow together. messily. slowly. loudly, if we have to.”

you laughed, a soft huff against his mouth.

and when he kissed you again — slower, steadier this time — it felt like a promise.

no longer boss and secretary.

no longer what-ifs and missed chances.

just two people — flawed, frightened, in love — finally finding their way toward something real.

together.

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