Warning: self beta'ed, First Person POV (in this case, Asami), a possible OOCness ahead.

Maybe it's because of his habit of making breakfast.

It's truly amazing when I think about him waking up in the morning, even though he knew I woke up earlier than him, to rush over to the kitchen to catch me before I went for work. It wholly impresses me how he immediately worked on the simple breakfast just to make me eat something before going on to work in the morning, even though I had already insisted that I wouldn't get a stomachache just by having a cup of coffee in the morning. He always denied that fact before shoving a toast down my mouth, talking nonstop about the importance of a proper breakfast and some stuffs that I couldn't really care.

Sometimes I was annoyed by it, but living it up has been a habit of mine as well.

Maybe it's because of his slim waist.

I don't really know if it's normal to have such a slim waist for a guy, but all I know is, it still looks good on him. I remember quiet well when I woke up a little bit late that one morning. I speed-walked towards the kitchen to at least have some coffee before going out, but then I was suddenly greeted by this fascinating sight that was spotted in my own kitchen. Standing there behind the sink was him, him with his slim figure which I remember clearly, wrapped in nothing but a t-shirt, tight shorts, and this cute little apron which he brought from his parents' house.

The apron apparently brought out his curve even more, as if tempting me to come prowling towards it and slide my hands around it. Actually, I was considering that at the moment, and fought a losing battle against my desire.

So without hesitation, I prowled steadily towards him. He seemed to be lost in his own thoughts because when my being finally made its presence known, I felt him flinched under me, surprised at last. Before he could protest however, I did what I wanted to do since five minutes ago; wrapping my large hands around that slim waist.

It quiet surprised me, but pleased me as well, at how immediately relaxed he became the moment he knew who intruded him. He defiantly leaned against me as he continued washing the dishes, playing with the soap he had in his hands against the mug he was currently washing.

It felt heavenly, really, just by standing like that. I didn't know what he did to me, but surely whenever we are pressed like that, I felt truly comfortable like no other.

My breath was immediately taken away when he suddenly faced me, flashing me that flawless toothy smile.

"I know you are late, but please eat your breakfast."

Maybe it's because of his crappy style.

It's no mystery for me anymore to know that my style and his style are contrast to each other. I know it immediately the first time I set my eyes on him; t-shirt, ripped jeans, some checkered patterned shirt that he tied around his waist, and a pair of some unbranded sport shoes. It highly amazes me at how I could accept this very well; because personally, I don't really like looking at people who dresses like him.

Well, I guess, he is just that big exception in my life.

Maybe it's because of his habit of defying me.

All I know is that, he is different from every people I have met in my entire life. I have become used to people looking at me with terrified eyes, or giant respect, or maybe fear that always pleads for me to spare them when really, I am no dead God, I am simply a human which longs to kill anyone who dares to defy me or defile my property.

Except him.

Again, another exception.

We often argued on many random topics, and I am once again surprised at how good I was holding myself from shooting him. But really, not shooting him was not related with my high tolerance or something. It's just that, the desire to do that never comes.

Instead, I grow to love that side of him. Defying me because he has his own rights to voice his thoughts, because he thinks what I think doesn't match with his policy. I recall the many moments he pointed out my fault, my flaws, in and out of public, treating me like a boy who just stole a candy.

But as I was saying earlier, I don't hate it; I love it.

Maybe it's because of his smooth, milky tights.

It is just hard to not touch, especially since he (seems to) purposely wear nothing but tight boxers that could only cover his pelvis area around the penthouse. He would go and (unintentionally) show off those flawless, skinny, long legs around the establishments, acting so oblivious to the predator (in this case, me) that is constantly holding himself back from grabbing those slender legs and touching it himself.

And I don't even have any leg fetish.

Maybe it's because of his striking blond hair.

Seriously, it's not that hard to find him in the crowd. He has this blond hair that seems to shoot to every direction, there's no way one could not find him.

I find it hilarious that even though he has lived long enough having a hair like that, he would still complain about his bed hair every morning, trying so hard to calm the wildness his hair was born with.

But really, I prefer it that way.

Maybe it's because of his stubborn attitude

There was this one time where I went on a business trip for three weeks. Of course I told him beforehand, and as I had expected, he showed me this giant grin on his mouth before muttering something like "it would totally be fun without you here" and "have a fucking good trip".

I regarded it as a challenge, so going on the business trip I did.

Three weeks felt like a decade as he stubbornly chose to not text or call me. I didn't contact him either, feeling the need to actually see his action towards my temporary abandonment.

It was not even until the third week did I finally receive a call from him. Smirking, I picked it up, feeling overly-victorious over my supposed winning.

The call only lasted for less than five minutes. But as soon as he hung up, I immediately booked a flight back home.

Seriously, having a certain stubborn blond telling you he misses you can do that to you.

Maybe it's because of his smile

I'm starting to get really dramatic here.

I have never thought much about smiles. Really, for me, a smile is just the thing you do with your mouth's muscle to lighten up the mood, or to pretend that you are interested in a certain topic someone brings up when in reality you aren't. I don't even do smile, I smirk; those are two totally different thing. Even he often told me that my smirk is scary.

But it's kind of different when he is the one who does it.

There's this strange thing pooling in the pit of my stomach whenever the corners of his mouth lifted up, and there were these little twinkling stars flashing in his eyes when he smiled directly at me. Magnificent.

I think his smile is my favorite.

Maybe it's because of his voice

"Asami!" "Pervert." "Bastard." "Jerk."

That's like my everyday name in his tongue. Really, there's nothing sweet or good coming from those words, but I kind of like it when he is the one who calls me that.

His voice is ordinary, no different from other people, but I seem to can tell his voice apart from other people. It's like; his voice has been recorded in the back of my mind.

I especially like it when he uses his voice to moan under me, in which, I wouldn't tell the details because all the details are obviously mine.

Maybe it's because of his kisses

I won't tell you all the juicy details.

But there's just something in the way he kisses me. There's this strange warmth that spreads all around my body when he reaches for me in an attempt to kiss me. It immediately takes my breath away when he took the time to flutter his eyes close and searched for my lips using his, his rosy-colored plump lips that I just can't stop kissing.

And when our lips touched, I felt completed. It's like all I have ever wanted is already here in my arms.

I would usually take the lead, and he would defiantly succumb to it in less than a minute. But what he doesn't realize is the fact that I lose myself as well; holding him and kissing him madly has always been my drug that usually takes my sanity away.

There are so many reasons, but I simply can't pinpoint which one is the strongest reason as to why I am addicted to him. Not that I care about that, he has never questioned it before and always told me that he doesn't care about such trivial things, though it makes me chuckle that sometimes his eyes would tell me otherwise.

But I guess, just being with me would tell him all that, even without me speaking out loud.