I want to sleep in your arms but not kiss.

Kenma watched you sleep soundly. The hum of the AC with the occasional stir from you on his sheets soothed him in a way that he will never admit.

I long for your touch but don't miss. Don't want to regret any of this.

His hand reached out; his touch almost ghosting the slope of your cheek, the ends of your eyelashes, and the pout of your lips. But he retracted it almost immediately as if the mere touch of your skin would burn him alive.

I want to see you in my dreams but then forget

His golden eyes dilated as he watched you from the intersection of the halls. He was your childhood friend that you've grown fonder and closer when high school reached.

Kenma will never admit it, but he loved seeing you smile, how your eyes copy the twinkle of the night sky, and the way your voice sounds like his favorite song.

We're meant to be but not yet.

It was only recently when he was violently thrusted upon the reality of his feelings. How everything was a reality and non-platonic.

And Kenma could beat himself up for acting so slow. For realizing too late.

You're all that I have but can't get.

Because those grins and sparklings eyes should only be for him. Who was this guy anyway? His face seemed obscured in Kenma's eyes — as if he was nothing than a mere side character.

If you're in a good place, I won't mess with that.

Kenma hated that sleepovers slowly came to a halt because of your new boyfriend. So why? Why did he find himself climbing your balcony — a habit of his. Why? Why was he knocking on your glass door? Why was he acting completely unlike him?

But I'm here when you need, I always have.

Or maybe Kenma finally realized that years of suppression just made him spill.