Kei always had a way with words, or rather, a way to express the exact opposite thing of what he truly meant and felt.

It was like a defense mechanism he didn't knew he had. Sarcasm spilled from his mouth too often, sometimes too harshly and far too cruel, as if his own brain couldn't put a stop or a limit on what he should say, especially to those he cared for. And it always bit him back after he realized his own words.

But lately, it had become a much more troublesome thing than usual. Around you, specifically.

He wasn't dumb, and denial could only take someone so far; so it didn't took him long to know what the meaning of the rapid beating of his heart against his chest when he was around you. It was obvious, to him at least. But that didn't meant his tongue had softened its sharpness around you. If anything, it was the opposite.

He tried to control it, he really did. Even though it never worked, he kept on trying. But yet again, his tongue had acted on impulse and once again, he had ended up saying the wrong thing to you.

He shrugged it off. It wasn't the first time it happened and you hadn't been bothered by it, surely you'd know he didn't meant it.

Except you didn't looked at him after, or the next day, and you weren't speaking to him either. It made him wonder if he had crossed the invisible line he wasn't supposed to cross with you, if this meant you wouldn't want anything to do with him. If this was permanent.

Because he didn't wanted it to be permanent. He wanted you around him again.