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"You're staring."
Kenma's quiet voice broke the hot silence of summer. Could it be considered silence? The cicadas were always calling, but they melted into the background as if it were white noise.
Kuroo was brought out by his revere, and realized with a start that yes, he had been staring at Kenma as he licked his vanilla soft-serve. The way his pink tongue darted out to lap at the cream was distracting. "Wh—"
"I said, you're staring." Kenma's golden-eyes made contact with him before flitting away.
Kuroo swallowed. "S-sorry."
They were silent once more. Kuroo looked at his one ice cream cone and saw that the mint chocolate was dripping on his fingers onto the ground. He hadn't even felt the sticky sensation, clinging all over his hands. And it wasn't as though there was a convenient place to wipe them up. He hated all of this—the heat, the cicadas, the fact that they were outside, for some godforsaken reason.
Kenma huffed. "What's with you today?" His skin looked pink and flushed under the heat. Kuroo ached to touch it.
"Uh, sorry. I'm just all over the place. I stayed up late last night." A weak excuse, but hopefully Kenma wouldn't push it.
"Yeah right. You've been weird ever since I got this ice cream." Kenma said, mouth curved into a pout.
Kuroo couldn't help but smile at that, even if his mind was going toward territory he desperately wanted to keep away from. But, how could he deny himself? Was it even wrong to simply think? He felt as though he was parched from water, and the only respite he had was the fantasy of an oasis.
No, it was wrong. He needed to stop this ridiculous idea.
"Kuro?" Kenma's voice called to him again. His pink lips darted to lick at the ice cream. He took the tiniest laps, as if he were a delicate creature. "Your ice cream is melting."
"Oh, whoops! Man, I should probably throw this away, huh?" He said, raising to get up.
"I bought you ice cream, and you just threw it away." Kenma said, voice flat. "I can't believe you."
Guilt swirled in him. "Shit, sorry—I'll pay you back. How about that?"
“Three times.”
“What?”
“That’s how many times you’ve apologized.” Kenma reached out and grasped his wrist. It felt small and cool. The chill contrast of his palm against his own skin burned. Or maybe, it was just Kuroo, burning.
Kuroo could not stop this thing he felt. It was so strong now, especially at the height of the hot summer afternoon. There was no one around, and all he knew was this blistering heat. It was strong and sharp and everything else that clouded out the last hint of rational thought in his mind.
He wanted to lick the corner’s of Kenma’s lips, more than anything in the whole damn world.
“Kenma, I really need to go. T-the ice cream—” Kuroo felt himself babbling. “The ice cream is—it’s—”
Kenma pulled at Kuroo’s wrist so he was face to face with the rapidly melting mint ice cream. He eyed it, and Kuroo felt frozen to the spot. Even the heat couldn’t melt him enough to move him. Kenma closed his eyes, and stuck out his tongue, tasting Kuroo’s ice cream. For a split second, Kuroo could see a vision of ecstasy cross his normally impassive face. He was tasting just the ice cream, wasn’t he? And then it was gone. Kenma was blinking up at Kuroo, as though he hadn’t shot right through to his crotch. God, he felt like a creep.
“You can throw it away now.” Kenma said, leaning back with a self-satisfied smile. He lifted his own ice cream and brought it back to his lips. “I got what I wanted.”
Kuroo swallowed and edged away. “Right. I’ll just—yeah. I’ll be back.”
He turned and moved, hoping his walk wasn’t as stiff as it felt. God, he hated summer.