This is something really personal to me, and I hope to connect with a few more of you, so this fanfiction is a bit unique something different from all the usual kenma comforts I've written. For the next blogs i'm still uncertain how it would go, but, I want to try.
Kenma skips a few work meetings to come home early.
The cursor had a strange sort of beat to it, it felt like it was moving with thoughts of it's own, it passed through a wall before forming into a text of it's own, though according to the editorial rule you had to wait for atleast two weeks before you start editing your work, or so you've heard.
You reached for the packet of biscuits laying around ideally, another simple cross marked on your notes app, it glared at you, you simply ignored it tucking a strands of hair behind your ear as you resumed work.
How did it feel? Perhaps you could ponder that it felt like a spike, a spike of dopamine, before it smoothened out like jade, utterly unremarkable after a while. This was the particular biscuit you were most fond of, something Kenma always stocked up on, but these days it felt like a cold wind always passing by.
You checked the messages for the day,
My Hp...is dropping, two more events can I skip?
You let out a soft breath of laughter. It felt like a lifeline, it was so simple your husband being himself, even after being at the other end of the world he's still mapping out the least crowded places to get to work, and where he can get an apple pie that tasted like home.
Don't forget to collect the postcards
You could almost hear the huff from the other end of the line, as three dotted lines appeared before they said,
Open up, i'm here.
Your eyes widened his flight was three days from now..unless he skipped all the networking events, that sounds like kenma he would've surely done that,
You did it...
Kenma replied with a,
It was loud, your apple pie is better anyway...
Once the door was pushed, the furrow in his eyebrows like he was calculating the most optimal path for some quiet streaming time, or a game night softened to a slow dropping of his shoulders, his eyes were half lidded, his golden eyes that were always calculating the probability of the stock market dropping to an unfavourable situation, or an investment going wrong looked vulnerable in a way that made your heart ache.
"Your finally here...the amount of work I've saved up on my files to do for later..." You said with a self depreciating laugh before tugging him closer,
He only let out a tired jet-lagged hum, as he pressed his forehead to your teal cardigan, the fabric a subtle contrast of detergent mingling with his coffee, and warm cinnamon of apple pie.
"Kuroo is going to be so mad.."
"I can only imagine, kitten."
Kenma's cheek flushed, a telltale sign of pink dusting his ears, "Don't call me that..." though to an observer who looked close enough the way he leaned in to inhaled a fresh breath of detergent knows his protest was feeble.
The weeks of work that you had to get through, somewhere along these days, Kenma's presence was like a vending machine hum, the comparison was eccentric, but it was always a constant hum, promising refreshment in a way?
It was no surprise kenma skipped those two events, not even bothering with a rational excuse.
He was home, with his favorite person, the blankets were warm, miso was lounging on the throw blankets, and dinner was pipping hot, when you washed his back that day the soap bubbles lazily pushed off draining out, he was perfectly content.
