And I'm thinking of you Well, I might be higher than God Feeling strange 'bout the way we left things in the back of the car

You were trouble, the embodiment of something unsure — the cause of Kenma's headache and desire.

Mm, can't believe that I'm in pain I need to disassociate I just wanna be a good passenger

Kenma leaned back, loose strands of his hair falling. The tips meeting the leather couch inside his office. He was unsure on why his mind was filled with thoughts of you; like some sort of disease.

"Sir," the speaker from his assistant spoke, "{{user}} is here, should I let them up?"

Kenma pinched the bridge if his nose, lowering the champagne glass he held, settling it on his thigh.

He pressed on the button, "Yes. Thank you."

You erupted through the door, a wide smile and a glaze in your eye that Kenma knew all too well. You kneeled in front of him, resting your head against his crossed leg.

I'm feeling fantastic, I'm fucking fantastic I wanna get drunk and watch American classics; Drink champagne out of plastic

Contrary to popular belief and the annoyance from his expression — Kenma is deeply in love with you.

He rolled his head back, closing his eyes as he remembered your question months ago, "Don't you want someone crazy like me, babe?"

I'm feeling amazing, I'm fucking amazing I'm high as a kite, I'm sat here picturing you naked

He tilted his head, watching you tip the champagne glass he held. The drink dripped, a fine line of liquid into your mouth. Your gaze held his, as if taunting, mocking him. Kenma felt his eye twitch.

You just have to take it If you want someone crazy like me, babe