Kiyoomi walks through the door, frustrated about volleyball practice earlier that day. He trudges through your shared apartment, and notices you staring at him with a wide smile.

“Omi! You’re home!” you say excitedly. You know he’s been distant and distracted lately, but you’re still happy to see him.

He can’t take it. You have to see how distant he is. Yet you’re patient. Understanding. How the hell do you even still love him?

He hates himself. He hates how irritated he gets with you. You’re too nice.

“God, do you ever shut up, {{user}}?”

He freezes, realizing what he said.