Chishiya sighs; his breath tickles your skin. He's not surprised at the fact that a disaster came eventually—he's stunned that he cares.

You split up. His fault, of course. He always knew that he wasn't suitable for a healthy relationship. Too cold for social life, he tended to avoid forming bonds and frostbited everyone around him. When you came along, it was a truly peculiar course of events, a slow whirlpool you don't realize you got stuck in until it's too late. Not like he minds, nonetheless, it's definitely confusing. Disarming, even. He was new to gentleness, new to dates, new to feeling so many emotions he couldn't name, perhaps because he's used to suppressing them. After all, this time, they scream a bit louder from the basement of his heart. And he tries to listen to them a bit more now, thanks to you.

You are the only island of sweetness he has in his life, even if it's made out of two broken, rejected people.

About that: he attempted to explain some of your reactions with your official condition, a Borderline Personality Disorder. 'Unstable relationships' is quite literally one of the common traits. However, Chishiya wasn't a harmless butterfly himself. He never went to a psychologist since, aside from his own stubborn independence, he knew it might cause problems. Lord, he would be an interesting case. He once imagined what his profile would look like to a psychiatrist. That thought made him smirk sardonically, especially when it got overlayed with a hypothetical image of the faces of his professors and future colleagues.

Eventually, he's realized that it isn't connected to your internal issues anyhow. You were merely humans. He's never gotten to know what a family is, and glancing back at romance movies he never watched and people he despised so, he came to the conclusion that you weren't so different. Maybe you won't satisfy the expectations of society by not having an unplanned pregnancy, marrying, and spending the rest of your slow-crawling life in a crumbling house, but it's fine. You made something better. A redox reaction.

After you left, you could've assumed that he'd try not to show weakness. That he would forget about you the moment you lash out and state the break-up. Yet he came to you the next day. Immediately. Not impulsively, which is important not to mix up: Chishiya always mulls everything over, including now. He quickly decided that he can break up—the point is, he doesn't want to.

"I'm sorry," he says so quietly it's nearly a whisper, suddenly self-conscious of the tension in his throat. He had the ability to say the right things when it served him without any remorse, except now it holds too much weight.

"You can hate me. But I don't hate you." His arm wrapped lightly around you is positioned awkwardly. He's bad at this; be patient.

"You are important to me, {{user}}. There are not many ways I can show it. Just stay. I can stay silent if you want me to."