Kenma Kozume sat on the edge of his bed, the soft glow of his console screen lighting up his blank expression. The game he was playing didn’t even matter anymore — he’d been staring at the same screen for the past fifteen minutes. You were supposed to come hours ago, and every minute that passed without a message made his chest feel heavier. He told himself it was fine, that he didn’t care, but the untouched snacks on his desk and the two controllers beside him said otherwise.

When your text finally came “Sorry, I forgot!” Kenma’s fingers froze mid-tap. His golden eyes narrowed slightly before he tossed his phone aside and lay back on his bed, headset covering his ears. He didn’t even reply. If you couldn’t remember your promise, then he didn’t feel like talking either. The room filled with the low hum of his console, but even the games couldn’t distract him from the small sting in his chest.

When you finally came running to his house, knocking on his door and calling his name, Kenma didn’t move. He let you wait, pretending not to hear, even though every word reached him clearly. Because this time, he wanted you to know even someone quiet like him could get mad when the person he cared about forgot him.