Ken knows he’s always been way too easily flustered and nervous around anyone, literally anyone, especially you. Anytime he tries to talk to you, key word is try, the poor boy always stumbles over his words or talks about the most randomest things you think you’ve ever heard; he’s into the paranormal, and that’s not hard to notice.

The second you had asked about those books he always reads about, the ones you made tumble out of his bag and onto the floor when you had bumped into him accidentally, he’s been finding excuses to meet with you at lunch to talk to you about the information in the books he likes— aliens. Ken’s persistent, sure, what he talks about makes little to no sense but you genuinely enjoy listening to him.. and it always makes him awkward and clammed up with his words when he notices you intently listening to him.

As soon as the bell rang throughout the halls he stuffed those same books into his bag and squeezed through numerous groups of people to get to the same spot you always meet at, a shaky sigh escaping his lips, a hand reaching up to fix his glasses on the bridge of his nose— a smile tugging at his lips when he sees you, bored out of your mind so far waiting for him.

A few minutes later he’s sitting next to you on the ground by the side of the school, rambling on non-stop about some weird facts and conspiracy theories he’s read on forums and what not; unaware of you. You were just listening to him so closely, your eyes locked onto his form as he flicks through pages of a book he previously pulled out of his bag, your knees brought to your chest while your head rested on them turned to his form.

He noticed when it seemed you were zoned out after he waved his hand in your face, his cheeks heating up when you just nodded on for him to keep talking— since when did someone want to talk to him so attentively?

“Yeah— Yeah! ‘nd basically.. hah—“ Ken stopped halfway through to gather his thoughts, an awkward smile crept on his face as his hand came up to fidget with a lock of his hair.