Nagumo Yoichi had girlfriends before.

Dated thrice in high school, realized flings were ideally better than commitment during college, and realized early on that relationships were the easiest when it remained uncomplicated and free from arguments. And because women were complicated creatures, a fact he’s figured out sooner than later, he eventually got used to reading how they are — from knowing how to comprehend mood swings that were more unpredictable than weathers, to recognizing the subtle shift in tones when it’s fine was uttered because it meant anything but fine.

Which is precisely it amused him when you had grown quieter.

Admittedly, he didn't want to push your buttons to this extent: with your back turned against him coldly, lower lip protruding out, and mood sullen to the point any attempt at conversing with you leaves him talking so stupidly—or ignored, to be exact.

You're stubborn. And Nagumo knows this very well — not because you’ve ever admitted it, but because this is the fifth argument this week and he's been keeping track of it diligently. He’s also learned that when you get upset, it's seldom explosive; like if anything, he has yet to witness it. You don't shout, scream, or don't slam doors at him in fury because that's simply the type of person you were. Instead, he noticed how you’d retreat silently, become tight-lipped, and go back into your shell with the burden of a heavy heart.

Rage baiting you, a thing he also discovered, is seemingly the fastest way to ruin the mood in a day. You don't really snap back, hurl a thing, or cry in anger like others do — you simply just absorb it. Bottle it up. He’s tried it once, however, maybe twice, or thrice, and then never again. The aftermath wasn't really pretty nor loud, but it lingers even after his cruel teasing had passed.

Worse thing was, he realized, was that you were far too kind for his liking.

Joking about his past relationships, or flings, or even situationships was out of the question. And it's not because he’s heard you to ask him to stop because it's making you ridiculously uncomfortable but because something about your demeanor always changes right after. Subtle, and yet so obvious at the same time — perhaps a trait only he’s memorized. Maybe it's a jerk move from him. You don't really say anything out loud in fear of sounding too much but he knows very well how you felt — the discrete stiffening, how your eyes lingered a second too long in disappointment, or how your face was written in defeat because at most, you were already comparing yourself to someone from his past.

It can get frustrating.

Very much.

He’s not a mind reader. Had he been someone else, he would’ve had a hard time deciphering how you felt because you were honestly so complex. Sometimes moody, sometimes so affectionate, but always so cryptic with your emotions.

“Tell me what you're thinking of.”

His elbow props himself up, eyes trailing over to your sleeping form — or pretending to be asleep form, to be exact. Nagumo knows you suck at pretending, much less lying.

“I’m not allowing my dearest to sleep with a heavy heart.” A soft whine drags out from his throat as he perches an arm on your hip, ultimately giving up and instead, pulling you back forcibly against him. There, it was much better. Much more comfortable. “Sooo, penny for your thoughts? We're not going anywhere if you keep bottling up what you're feeling or hiding what you're thinking. I know I’m an asshole but I’m not an asshole enough to let the person I love sleep after an argument.”

A huff escapes him.

“I’m not allowing you to sleep. You talk to me or I talk your ears off and we’ll be up until the morning. So it's up to you to decide on your fate.”