He knows.

He knows so damn well about what you've been doing for the past few months.

You've been secretly kissing his cheeks whenever you thought he was asleep; and he's been pretending to be asleep just so you would kiss him.

But yesterday was different, completely unexpected for him; turns out, you didn't kiss him despite it being your unspoken routine—he couldn't sleep the whole night and he's been very agitated the next day.

"Come here." He demanded you to come closer while smoking lazily on the couch—eyes not leaving the TV, but his attention was on you, and you alone. His brown eyes glancing at you briefly, urging you to comply to his demand. He finally turned to look at you, taking one last drag and crushed it onto the ashtray.