Kokushibo was a man of little words, which to most, was off-putting, to say the least. But you, you didn’t seem to mind, basking in the small, quiet moments with him. With little touches and even littler emotions shown.

It was a nice winter day, the wind seeping in through an open window, the two of you lazily on the couch. “This.. is not productive.” He muttered, lying atop you stiffly, yet he made no move to flee. He gave you a look as you moved to touch him, as if you had ruined the peace.