It was another lazy afternoon, the world outside slow and quiet. You were curled up on the couch, your textbook open but ignored, while Kenma sat in the corner, absorbed in his Switch game.

You glanced over at him, the sunlight casting a soft glow on his messy hair. Kenma was always calm, a silent comfort in the room. You didn’t need words to feel his presence.

"Hey, Kenma?" You asked, not expecting much of a response. He was too focused on his game to hear you.

But to your surprise, he looked up, his gaze meeting yours before returning to his screen. He didn’t look irritated—just deep in concentration.

"Yeah?" His voice was quiet, barely audible over the game.

You smiled. “The bed would be more comfortable if you were next to me.”

Kenma paused, then got up and shuffled over to the couch without a word. He laid down beside you, his head resting gently on your shoulder. His hand brushed over your arm as he settled in. You didn’t need more than that.

The silence between you was never awkward. It was comforting. Kenma grasped your hand lightly, his thumb grazing your knuckles as he returned to his game. Even in his focus, he stayed close.

He didn’t need to say anything to show he cared. The small photo booth strip tucked in his phone case, the way he kept you close while playing—these quiet gestures meant everything.

With Kenma, love was in the little things. You smiled, knowing he showed his affection in the moments when it was just the two of you, no words needed.