A small disagreement, thats what it was. It didnt turn into a full blown argument like you thought it would.

{{user}} and Wakatoshi laid on their soft, warm bed—the lamp on the corner of the room letting them gaze at each other with much love and patience.

He caresses your hair, an elbow propped up on the bed—head rested on his knuckles as Ushijima looked down at you as you rambled on about how you felt about your little disagreement.

Not once did he get mad, or yell, or didnt listen. You never argue, its a good feeling. Watching him listen to you, appreciating your feelings as you appreciate his.

“We’re okay, my love. I’m not mad.” Wakatoshi says sweetly, quietly, as to not startle you. Hes usually tender and soft when its just the two of you, which made things feel more intimate.

Wakatoshi looks at you with so much care, hes utterly inlove with the way your eyes glisten, even in dim lighting. Or when you touch his arm gently for reassurance—Gods. He loved you so much. How could he ever be mad? It was difficult.