under the same rain with kuroo tetsuro ⋆｡°• ⛆
synopsis: a rainy evening leaves you and kuroo with an unexpected chance to slow down. between shared umbrellas and quiet conversations, the line between friendship and something more begins to blur.
the rain started while you were studying.
not the soft kind of rain that made people romanticize the weather, and not the light drizzle students could ignore as they hurried across campus with their bags over their heads. this rain came down steadily, confidently, like it had no intention of stopping anytime soon. it blurred the library windows until the city outside looked painted in gray watercolor, all smudged streetlights, dark pavement, and umbrellas moving like small shadows beneath the storm.
you stared at the rain through the glass and slowly closed your notebook.
across from you, tetsuro kuroo noticed immediately.
“that expression usually means something terrible has happened,” he said, leaning back in his chair with the kind of lazy confidence that made it seem like he belonged anywhere, even in the quiet corner of your university library.
you looked at him flatly. “i forgot my umbrella.”
you pointed at him before he could say anything. “do not start.”
“i wasn’t going to say anything.”
“you were absolutely going to say something.”
“i was going to be supportive.”
“you look too entertained to be supportive.”
kuroo laughed under his breath, the sound low enough not to disturb the students still scattered around the library. his laptop was open in front of him, but judging by the half-finished notes on the screen and the way he had spent the last twenty minutes spinning his pen between his fingers, he had not been studying very seriously.
“you never forget your umbrella,” he said. “this is historic.”
“people make mistakes, tetsuro.”
you rolled your eyes, but the smile pulling at your mouth betrayed you.
that was the annoying thing about kuroo. he had always known how to get a reaction out of you.
even when you were children, he had been like this. sharp-tongued, playful, impossible to ignore. you had grown up on the same street, gone to the same convenience store after school, crossed the same train tracks, complained about the same summer heat. even after high school, even after both of you ended up attending different universities in tokyo, kuroo had remained stitched into your life in a way that felt natural.
because somewhere between childhood and college, somewhere between shared train ride and late-night messages, between him walking you home and you bringing him food when he forgot to eat during exams, something had changed.
or maybe nothing had changed at all. maybe you had just finally noticed.
kuroo reached down into his bag.
he pulled out a black umbrella with an expression far too smug for someone who still regularly forgot to charge his phone.
“you brought an umbrella?”
“you once forgot your wallet three days in a row.”
“that was part of my mysterious charm.”
“that was a financial crisis.”
he grinned and stood, sliding his laptop into his bag. “come on. i’ll walk you to the station.”
the simplicity of his answer made your chest feel strange.
you looked away first, pretending to organize your notes.
the library had begun to empty, the late afternoon fading into evening as the rain deepened outside. students moved in quiet clusters, their voices hushed under the high ceiling. the warm library lights reflected against the windows, making the storm beyond them seen even colder.
by the time you and kuroo stepped outside, the air had turned sharp and damp.
the rain struck the pavement in silver lines, splashing against the stone paths that wound through campus. leaves trembled under the weight of water. the vending machines near the entrance hummed softly, their bright colors glowing against the dim weather.
kuroo opened the umbrella and tiled it over the both of you. it was not small, exactly. but it was not large enough for distance.
your shoulder brushed his almost immediately.
kuroo glanced down at you with a faint smile. “you’re walking like i’m contagious.”
“you take up too much space.”
“i’m tall. that’s not a moral failing.”
he laughed, and the sound settled warmly against the cold rain.
the two of you began walking across campus, moving slower than everyone else. most students rushed past beneath umbrellas or jackets, heads lowered, shoes splashing through shallow puddles. but kuroo matched your pace easily, keeping the umbrella tilted slightly more toward you than himself.
you noticed. of course you noticed.
a drop of rain slid from the edge of the umbrella and landed on his sleeve.
“you’re getting wet,” you said.
“you’re barely under the umbrella.”
“that’s because someone accused me of taking up too much space.”
he looked down at you, eyes bright with amusement. “yes?”
you reached for the handle and pulled the umbrella more evenly between you.
the movement brought your hand close to his.
close enough that your knuckles brushed.
it lasted less than a second.
still, your breath caught.
kuroo’s gaze flickered firefly to your hand before returning to the path ahead. for once, he did not tease you.
the silence that followed was not awkward, but it carried weight.
the steady sound against the umbrella, the rush of water along the curb, the distant hiss of cars beyond the campus gates.
kuroo cleared his throat. “so, how bad is your workload this week?”
you exhaled, grateful for the shift. “awful. i have a paper due friday, a presentation next week, and an exam i have not emotionally accepted yet.”
“yes. academically, i know it exists. emotionally, i reject it.”
“that’s very mature of you.”
you explained, and kuroo listened the way he always did. like what you said mattered, even when you were rambling about assignments he had no connection to. he asked questions, made a few jokes, and somehow remembered details you had mentioned weeks ago.
that was another thing about him.
people assumed kuroo was careless because of the teasing, because of his smirk, because of the way he carried himself like he was never bothered by anything.
he remembered what kind of snacks you liked from the convenience store. he remembered which professor you complained about most. he remembered when you had interviews, when you were stressed, when you got quiet because something was wrong but you had not figured out how to say it yet.
you hated how much that mattered to you.
“what about you?” you asked. “any more interviews?”
the change was immediate.
his smile stayed in place, but something behind it shifted.
“yeah,” he said. “one next week.”
“with the sports promotion company?”
he looked at you, surprised for half a second. “you remembered?”
“yeah, but i talk a lot.”
he nudged your shoulder. “rude.”
“you also remember my assignments, so i’m allowed to remember your interviews.”
the teasing faded again. replaced by something softer.
“yeah,” he said quietly. “i guess you are.”
the rain grew heavier before you reached the campus gates.
wind swept through the street, pushing cold droplets under the umbrella. you flinched as water hit your cheek, and kuroo immediately angled himself toward the wind, blocking some of it with his body.
“tetsuro, you’re going to soak yourself.”
“then we should take shelter.”
before you could respond, he guided you toward a small cafe tucked beside a bookstore across from campus. warm light spilled through the fogged windows, golden and inviting against the gray evening. the sign above the door swung slightly in the rain.
inside, the cafe smelled like coffee, bread, and cinnamon.
it was quiet, with only a few students scattered among the tables. someone had left a wet umbrella by the door. soft music played from hidden speakers, nearly downed out by the rain tapping against the windows.
you slid into a booth near the back while kuroo went to order.
he returned with two drinks.
you blinked at the cup he set in front of you. “you bought mine?”
“don’t look so suspicious.”
“i’m trying to decide what you want.”
“you are nice,” you said, before you overthink it.
for a moment, the usual comeback did not arrive.
then he looked away, smiling faintly. “careful. keep saying things like that and i’ll start thinking you like me.”
your heart stumbled. the words were casual and the tone was familiar. but something about the moment made them land differently.
you wrapped your hands around the warm cup and looked down. “maybe i’m just nice.”
he laughed softly, but the sound was quieter than usual.
outside, the rain continued to blur the windows.
for a while, the two of you talked the way you always did. about classes. about kenma ignoring kuroo’s messages unless they included food for a specific question. about one of kuroo’s old volleyball teammates getting engaged and how that made both of you feel strangely old.
“people our age should not be getting engaged,” you said.
kuroo leaned back in the booth. “people our age are graduating, getting jobs, moving cities, signing apartment leases, and apparently committing to lifelong partnerships.”
you laughed, but it softened quickly.
because it was terrifying.
not the engagement part exactly, but the rest of it. the constant forward motion. the pressure to know where you were going.
the strange grief of realizing that adulthood did not arrive all at once. it crept in quietly, through internship applications ad unread emails, through friends moving further away, through calendars filled weeks in advance, through the slow understanding that time with people you loved had to be planned now.
kuroo stared into his drink.
the warmth of the cafe light softened the angles of his face. his hair was damp at the ends, darker than usual where the rain had touched it. he looked older in that moment. not old, but grown. like the boy you had known for years was still there, but layered now with responsibility, ambition, uncertainty.
for once, he did not answer immediately.
your fingers tightened around your cup.
kuroo smiled faintly, as if he realized how honest that sounded.
“i’ve been thinking a lot lately.”
he huffed a laugh. “i know. terrible habit.”
he turned his cup slowly between his hands.
“i spent so much time wanting to get here, you know?” he said. “university internships, figuring out work, doing something that matters. back in high school, everyone always talked about the future like it was this clear thing waiting for us.”
“but now that it’s actually happening, it feels less clear than ever.”
his voice steady, but quieter.
“i keep going to interviews where people ask where i see myself in five years, and i give them the answer they want. i talk about sports promotion, team development, and long-term goals. i sound like i know exactly what i’m doing.”
“you usually sound like that.”
the honesty in his eyes made your chest ache.
“i’m good at sounding sure.”
the rain tapped against the window beside you. the cafe felt smaller suddenly. more intimate. like the rest of the world had fallen away.
“and you’re not?” you asked softly.
kuroo’s mouth curved, but it did not become a full smile.
something about that answer hurt, not because it disappointed you. but because you knew how much it probably cost him to say it.
kuroo had always been the person who kept things moving. the one who made jokes when conversations got too heavy. the one who pushed people forward, who covered fear with strategy and uncertainty with charm.
seeing him like this open, uncertain, human made you want to reach across the table and take his hand.
you didn’t but you wanted.
“i think everyone feels like that,” you said. “some people are just better at hiding it.”
you looked down at your drink.
“sometimes. not as well as you.”
kuroo was quiet for a moment.
then he said, “i don’t think i hide it well from you.”
he was already looking at you.
the air between you changed again.
it had been happening more and more lately, these pauses that felt too full. these moments when the friendship you knew so well seemed to tilt into something unnamed.
you tried to laugh it off. “that’s because i’ve known you too long.”
your heartbeat quickened.
kuroo looked toward the window, watching the rain stream down the glass.
“when we were kids, i thought growing up meant things would make more sense.”
you smiled faintly. “that was optimistic.”
he laughed, and some of the heaviness eased.
then he said, “i think i’m scared of how much things are going to change.”
you did not respond right away.
because you were scared too. you were scared of graduating, scared of frosting. scared of waking up one day and realizing kuroo was no longer a natural part of your routine. no more spontaneous study sessions, late-night calls, no more familiar walks to the station beneath one umbrella, and no more easy certainty that he would be nearby.
the thought lodged itself painfully beneath your ribs.
“yeah,” you said quietly. “me too.”
kuroo looked at you again.
his expression softened in a way that made your throat tight.
“i know we don’t see each other every day anymore,” he said. “not like we used to.”
you forced a small smile. “that’s what happens when you choose a different university.”
“you also chose a different university.”
he smiled, but it quickly faded.
“seeing you all the time.”
the words were simple. too simple for how hard they hit.
kuroo looked down at his cup, his thumbs brushing along the cardboard sleeve.
“i miss knowing i’d run into you after class. i miss walking home without having to plan it a week ahead. i miss bothering you in person instead of over text.”
“you still bother me in person.”
a laugh escaped you, but it came out fragile.
his gaze returned yours, and the expression there was so gentle it nearly undid you.
the words settled between you.
not loud nor dramatic. but devastating in their honesty.
you looked away at first because you were afraid of what your face might reveal.
a server passed by to wipe down a nearby table.
someone near the window turned a page in their book.
the world continued normally, even though yours had shifted.
“i miss you too,” you said.
kuroo exhaled quietly, as if he had been holding his breath.
for a long moment, neither of you spoke.
then, because being too honest for too long seemed to make him nervous, he leaned back and attempted to smile.
“wow, look at us. having a mature adult conversation.”
you huffed. “almost ruined by you pointing it out.”
he grinned, but his eyes stayed soft.
the cafe slowly emptied as the evening deepened. the windows darkened until they reflected the warm interior back at you. outside, the storm showed no sign of stopping completely, but the rain had gentled into something steadier, quieter.
eventually, kuroo checked the time.
“we should probably go before the trains get worse.”
you nodded, though some part of you wanted to stay.
not because of the rain but because of the conversation. because of the feeling that something had opened between you, and if you left too soon, maybe both of you would pretend it had not happened.
still, you gathered your things.
kuroo held the door open for you, then stepped outside and opened the umbrella.
the cold air hit your face immediately.
the street gleamed beneath the rain, reflecting neon signs, cafe lights, and the red blink of a traffic signal. the city smelled like wet pavement and distant food stalls like rainwater and evening.
you walked side by side toward the station. the umbrella brought you close again. this time, neither of you tried to create distance, your shoulders brushed with every step with your hands occasionally bumping into his.
each small contact sent awareness through you.
you wondered if he felt it too.
“can we take the longer way?”
you looked up at him. “in this weather?”
his smile was faint. “yeah.”
there was something there, something nervous yet hopeful.
your heart started beating faster.
“okay,” you said. “the longer way.”
the longer path curved away from the busiest street and passed through a quieter walkway lined with small trees and covered storefronts. most shops had already closed, their metal shutters pulled down, rain collecting along the edges of their awnings. the noise of the main road softened behind you.
eventually, the two of you stopped beneath a covered pedestrian bridge. rain drummed against the roof overhead. beyond the railing, the city moved in glimmering fragments. headlights, umbrellas, reflections, blurred figures crossing at intersections.
kuroo closed the umbrella and shook water from the edge.
you leaned lightly against the railing, watching the rain.
for a while, neither of you said anything but the silence was not empty. it felt like standing at the edge of something.
kuroo stood beside you, close enough that his sleeve brushed yours.
his presence was warm in the cool air.
you stared out at the wet street because looking at him felt too dangerous.
then he laughed softly, not amused, more like nervous.
he rubbed the back of his neck.
“i had this whole speech prepared.”
the teasing was gone. completely.
your breath caught before he even said anything.
kuroo’s eyes searched yours, careful and serious in a way that made your chest ache.
or maybe your heartbeat did.
“i’m going to say it before i talk myself out of it again.”
the world landed heavily.
he had thought about this before. maybe many times.
his hand dropped from the back of neck. he looked toward the rain, then back at you, as if gathering courage from the strom itself.
“when we were kids, i thought i had a crush on you,” he said.
a small, almost helpless smile touched his mouth.
“i figured it would go away eventually. it didn’t.”
you could not move. could barely breathe at that.
“then high school ended,” he continued. “we went to different universities. our schedules changed. i thought maybe distance would make it easier to understand what i was feeling.”
the rain blurred behind him.
his dark hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends. his expression was open in a way you had rarely seen. no smirk, no easy defense, no joke waiting behind his teeth. just kuroo. just tetsuro. the boy you had known and the man he was becoming.
“i still look for you first when something good happens,” he said. “i still want to call you when i have a bad day. i still hear stupid jokes and think about whether they’d make you laugh. i still imagine all these versions of my future, and somehow you’re always there.”
he gave a quiet laugh, but it trembled slightly.
“i think i’ve been in love with you for a while.”
the words moved through you slowly. like warmth after being cold for too long. like something finally settling into place.
kuroo watched you carefully, and you realized he was afraid.
actually afraid. not of embarrassment. not of rejection alone. but of losing you.
the same fear you had been carrying in silence.
“you don’t have to say anything right away,” he added quickly. “i know this is a lot, and i don’t want to make things weird. i just couldn’t keep pretending it was nothing.”
you laughed softly, but it broke halfway.
kuroo’s face tightened with concern.
“hey,” he said, voice softer. “don’t cry. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean–”
“that was not the response i expected.”
you wiped quickly at your eyes, smiling despite the tears.
“you really thought you were the only one?”
his expression changed. slowly. carefully.
like hope was something fragile he did not want to touch too quickly.
your chest ached from how long you had held this in.
“i love you too, tetsuro.”
for a second, he didn’t move. he just stared at you.
all the rain, all the city noise, all the years between childhood and now seemed to fold into that silence.
then he exhaled. a quiet, disbelieving sound.
his hand came up to cover part of his face, and he laughed.
it was not his usual laugh.
it was softer, shakier. relieved.
“you have no idea how many versions of this conversation ended terribly in my head.”
“what happened in those versions?”
“you rejected me kindly in most of them.”
“in one of them, you stopped talking to me.”
“i know,” he said quietly. “but fear is not exactly rational.”
the honesty of that hurt.
you reached for his hand before you could overthink it.
his fingers stilled under yours.
then slowly, carefully, he turned his hand and held yours properly. his palm was warm. familiar and new all at once.
“i was scared too,” you admitted.
his thumb brushed once over your knuckles.
“of this changing things.”
kuroo’s expression softened.
then he stepped a little closer.
“but maybe not in a bad way.”
you looked up at him. he was so close now. close enough that you could see the rain caught on his lashes. close enough that the warmth of his hand seemed to travel through your entire body.
“maybe,” you said softly, “it already changed a long time ago.”
then he smiled. small and tender.
“yeah,” he said. “maybe it did.”
the space between you grew quieter. not empty, expectant.
kuroo’s gaze flickered briefly to your mouth before returning to your eyes. the movement was subtle, but it made your heart race.
he didn’t move right away. he waited.
because beneath all the teasing, beneath every sharp grin and clever remark, he had always been careful with you.
that realization made your chest feel painfully full.
his breath caught softly.
it was barely audible beneath the rain, but you heard it.
for once, kuroo looked completely unable to think of a joke.
“are you nervous?” you asked.
his brows lifted slightly. “good?”
“now i don’t feel ridiculous.”
his smile widened, warm and real. “you never look ridiculous.”
“that is objectively untrue.”
the words were so sincere that your smile faltered.
kuroo’s expression softened immediately.
his hand tightened around yours.
then, slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, he leaned in.
the kiss was gentle, not rushed, not dramatic in the way movies made first kisses seem, with fireworks and music and perfectly timed silence. it was better than that. it was warm, careful and genuine. a quiet answer for years of almosts.
his free hand lifted slightly, hesitated, then settled against your cheek with a tenderness that made your heart ache. your fingers curled into the front of his jacket, holding him there, grounding yourself in the feeling of him.
the rain continued to fall around you. against the roof, against the street, against the umbrella resting forgotten near his leg.
the city kept moving, but it felt far away.
when you finally parted, neither of you went far.
kuroo rested his forehead lightly against yours for a second, his breath warm in the cool air.
then he laughed. softly, happily.
you opened your eyes. “what?”
“you already gave the speech.”
“it was very impressive.”
he pulled back just enough to look at you, still smiling.
“i had a line about rain.”
“it was probably terrible.”
“it was probably embarrassing.”
his grin returned fully then, bright and familiar. “you love me anyway.”
heat rushed to your face.
he noticed immediately. of course he did.
his grin softened into something affectionate.
“i’m not going to get tired of hearing that,” he said.
“and i’m already attached.”
you laughed, and the sound seemed to loosen something in both of you.
kuroo squeezed your hand again.
for a moment, you simply stood together beneath the covered bridge while the rain softened around the city.
nothing about the future had become certain. there were still interviews, graduation, jobs, schedules, distance, change. all the things that had frightened you before still existed. but they did not feel as heavy or as heavy now. not with his hand in yours. not with his eyes on you like you were something he had been trying to find his way back to for years.
eventually, kuroo picked up the umbrella.
“we should probably head to the station.”
“you’re not making this easy.”
“i’m not doing anything.”
“you’re standing there looking at me like that.”
“like i might kiss you again.”
“would that be a problem?”
kuroo stared at you for half a second, then he laughed under his breath and leaned in again.
the kiss was shorter this time. still soft, but less hesitant.
when he pulled away, his smile was impossible to hide.
“you are going to be terrible for my focus,” he said.
“you already barely study when we’re together.”
“exactly. this is going to make it worse.”
“that sounds like a personal problem.”
you raised an eyebrow. “were we not already doing that?”
“very serious. very academic. possibly with dinner afterward.”
you laughed. “so a date?”
kuroo’s expression warmed.
“yeah,” he said. “a date.”
the word settled between you, sweet and unfamiliar.
you liked how he looked saying it, like he was trying not to seem too hopeful and failing completely.
“i’d like that,” you said.
the rain had lightened by the time you finally stepped out from beneath the bridge.
kuroo opened the umbrella again, and you moved under it without hesitation. this time, when your shoulder brushed his, he simply adjusted his hand so your fingers could remain intertwined beneath the handle.
the walk to the station felt different now.
the same wet pavement. the same blurred lights. the same city. but everything had shifted.
kuroo talked about dinner options because, apparently, emotional confessions made him hungry. you told him he was unbelievable. he told you that you had already said you loved him, so your complaints no longer had any power.
you threatened to take it back.
he looked so genuinely offended that you laughed until your cheeks hurt.
at the station entrance, people hurried around you, shaking rain from umbrellas and rushing toward the ticket gates. the fluorescent lights reflected against the damp floor. announcements echoed overhead.
you expected the moment to fade there, swallowed by the ordinary noise of trains and commuters.
his hand still in yours, his expression was quieter now. serious again but not afraid.
“i meant what i said earlier.”
you squeezed his hand. “i know.”
“i don’t know exactly where i’ll be after graduation.”
“and i can’t promise nothing will change.”
his thumb brushed over your hand.
“but i want to try,” he said. “whatever happens next. jobs, schedules, all of it. i want to try with you.”
the words settled deep inside you. not a perfect promise, but something better. an honest one.
relief moved across his face, warm and unmistakable.
then his usual grin appeared, softer around the edges.
“good. because i already have date plans.”
“you came up with date plans in the last ten minutes?”
“i work well under pressure.”
“dinner first,” he continues as if you had not spoken. “then another study date where we both pretend to work. then, eventually, i convince you that my terrible movie taste is actually charming.”
“you love that about me.”
his grin faltered slightly when he realized what he had said, but he did not take it back.
instead, you stepped closer and kissed his cheek.
his expression went completely still.
then slowly, delightedly, he smiled.
you laughed and tugged him toward the ticket gates.
outside, the rain continued falling over tokyo, softer now, no longer heavy enough to blur everything beyond recognition. just enough to make the city shine. just enough to remind you of the afternoon that had turned into evening, of the library, the cafe, the covered bridge, and the confession that had changed everything without taking anything away.
kuroo walked beside you, hand warm around yours.
and for the first time in a long time, the future did not feel like something waiting to pull you apart. it felt open. uncertain, yes. but not empty or frightening. not when he was there beside you, laughing softly as you stepped onto the platform together. not when he leaned closer and murmured, “so, about dinner?” not when you looked at him and realized that growing up did not always mean losing the people who mattered.
sometimes it meant choosing them, clearly and honestly again and again.
the train arrived in a rush of light and sound.
kuroo squeezed your hand once before you stepped inside together.
outside the windows, rain streaked across the glass, turning the city into silver lines and golden reflection. inside, his shoulder pressed gently against yours.
neither of you moved away.
and under the same rain that had once made the evening feel cold and uncertain, everything finally felt warm.
