Dilfsucker

However, the place was now nothing but a sad corner. He got rid of the beanbag, handing it over to his next door neighbor. The carpet was sold off online for a good price that the money went straight to gambling, and the last piece standing was the tall shelf full of books.

Toji remembered you telling him about wanting to have your little own reading space — so, when you both moved in together. He built the shelf on his own and saved up for a matching carpet and beanbag just for you. But, you weren't here anymore to use them that it was sad.

He took a step closer to the shelf, eyeing the collections of novel that you arranged based on their series orders and orders of which you read first. Top shelf was used for the books you had read, ordered from the first one and to the bottom, the newest ones. His eyes stopped at the second to last shelf, where the line deliberately cuts off, never to be filled again.

Toji started off from the top, grabbing each novel and putting it inside the box. By the time he got to the third row, he had to build another box for it. It was a drag — he shouldn't have to do this, he could have just commanded the people to come and grab the books so he could leave. But, something about him not being able to touch you again terrified him, and this was him trying to anchor himself even for a little bit longer before he lets go.

Toji sheepishly flipped through the pages of a novel, your messy annotations lingered by the pages eternal. He slipped one book after another into the box, before he came over a familiar one. It was the novel he remembered you crying about because of how beautiful it is, and he opens a random page right by the middle.

He wasn't one to read, but something in him just couldn't help but to urge his eyes to venture from the top of the page, to the bottom. When he came over a cute scene of the male lead doing something very cute to the female lead, he couldn't help but scoff. Not at the writing, or the unbelievable cringe dialogue, but at the little annotation that you made. It was a doodle of what seemed to be him and a messy writing that said, "Ji and I will do this someday!"

Toji puts the book aside, not to the box. By his foot as he continued with the cleaning.

"How much can I get for that? They're all well-taken care of," he drummed his fingers on the countertop impatiently — waiting for the new intern in a local bookstore you always go to, "besides a few doodles and scribbles, they're good as new."

The intern scanned your favorite novel, "This one has a lot of doodles and scribbles."

Toji snatched it from him, "Besides this one. How much money do I get?"

At the end of the day, he had your favorite novel tucked beneath his pit as he walks down the sidewalk. He'd spend the entire day trying to sell off your things and had just finished — Toji kicked off his shoes, tossing the novel onto the coffee table before his body crashed onto the couch. Finally, back home.

Without realization, he'd manage to fall asleep and awoken himself up when his stomach tickled in hunger. Toji yawned, pouring some hot water inside the ramen cup along with it's seasonings. Shutting the lid, his eyes travels back to the novel on the coffee table, a lot of doodles and scribbles, he remembered that guy saying. To kill time, he flips to the first page.

He could see your handwriting on the title page right before the content list, "Book belongs to (Name) (& Toji but he doesn't know)", the corners of Toji's lips upturned into a small smile. He flips off to the first chapter, skimming through every 12 pages binded into the chapter — every single page had an annotation about him. Not like the other novels where your little notes talked about how cute or how pissed that line made you.

Brows furrowed, his finger pressed onto the pages, flipping them quickly. His eyes catching a lot of the same doodles of his face and the same "Ji and I will do this someday!". When the male lead and the female lead talked of moving away into a smaller country where nobody could bother them? Ji and I will do this someday!

When the male lead talks about marrying the female lead someday after he becomes a better person? Ji and I will do this someday!

When the leads were finally able to achieve their dreams together? Moving into a smaller country where nobody could bother them? Where they had a baby and a cat together? Where they lived happily ever after? Ji and I will do this someday!

He flips the pages, reading every single thing. And before he's realized — Toji had finished reading the book, the cup of ramen untouched, noodle turning into a bloating curl of jelly deprived of soup and seasonings. The last page finished of with a short closing.

Ji has Megumi and Tsumi, so they're my kids too now. He's done more than this male lead. All we need to do is move to a better place (and have a cat) yay.

His fingers ghosted on the page, touching the dry ink over and over again, the last evidence etched to the surface of the page of you that he had left. He looked down at the blotch of wetness seeping right by the corner of the page — only then did he realize the wet tears that continue blurring his vision before slipping out, dribbling down his cheeks and landing on the page.

Instinctively, Toji pulled the book away to avoid the salty droplets from smudging your writing. He closes it back, pulling the collar of his navy colored sweater towards his eyes, letting the fabric absorb his tears. He doesn't speak — just quiet ragged breaths resounding in the silence, and the constant hiccups that he lets out.

By the time the tears stopped coming out, he felt drained. Like the tears he expected to come out during your passing only washing over now, he held onto the novel tightly. In the silence, he slurped on the bloated ramen noodle. It didn't taste good, the soup wasn't even there anymore. It was just as pitiful as he was right now that all he could do was let out a scoff equal laughter.

You'd laugh at this — that's why he did the same.

Toji shuts his eyes early for the first time in a couple of months. The dream came again, but he doesn't try to stir himself awake, he just indulged in it. Whenever you appeared, he doesn't try running away anymore, he talked to you and tries to be better. Even when the alarm rings after.

For the longest time, Toji had wanted to die. Then he met you, someone who's always appreciated the little things in life and see the wonders that most people can't — yet, here he was living the life you've always loved. Except, you weren't here anymore, and he was just living it for you.

You twiddle around your fingers, unsure what to do with yourself before ultimately deciding to just place it in your lap. “I ran into her at the grocery store today. She never died that day. She lives in a different country now, but is in town for her sister’s wedding."

When he remains motionless—his eyes having that far away look—you begin to wonder if you're about to lose everything you have.

"Say something," you tell him. All he does is dry the last plate, carefully places it back, and closes the cabinet.

Your body trembles as you fish out the crumbled napkin from your pocket and slide it over to him. Her handwriting is scribbled across it, her address and information bleeding deep across the tissue.

Toji dries his hand on a towel as he makes his way to sit next to you. He doesn’t say anything as he drags the napkin closer to him by a single finger. As you watch him inspect every curved letter, you look up and sigh before taking out the last thing that’s been burning a hole in your pants.

The picture was no bigger than a two-by-two; something Akane had taken out from her wallet and handed to you in such a soft, sweet smile. In case he doesn’t remember me, she had said.

You push the photo his way. "She goes by a different name now, but she’s still the same person."

As you tick off Akane’s feature’s—the ones you’ve come to know that one time you came with him to the columbarium—you know he is too. Only this time, the photo isn't of remembrance, but proof that she is still alive.

You see his eyes flick to the child who's face is squished up to Akane’s, a big smile that turns her eyes into crescent moons. You continue, "Her name is Tsukimi. She is very cute and so sweet,” you try to say with a light tone.

He swallows. "How old?"

"Four, maybe, couldn’t be older than six."

You see him mulling it over his head, and as much as you try to convince yourself he isn’t calculating the math and years in his head, you know he is. You hear the strain in his muscles when he stands from his seat, footsteps echoing around the apartment before he urgently strides for your shared room.

You watch him quickly grab his things, your mind unwilling to comprehend what’s actually transpiring right now.

He's responding just as you predicted. It hurts, but at least he knows the truth. Knows he has an option.

Because it'd eat you alive to live with this truth and never tell him. To rob him of a chance.

Once he's done and emerges from the room with a small bag around his shoulder, his green eyes finally meet yours. Guilt crosses his features as he spots the streak of tears sliding down the curve of your cheeks but it does little to waiver the resolution he's concluded to. And it does little to lessen the heartache when he says he's leaving. "I have to go.”

"I know."

“I have to do this."

"I know.” It comes out as a whisper. Weak. Defeated. Acceptance. 

He softly cups your cheek and places a kiss to your lips but you turn away at the last second. Taken aback by your actions, Toji goes for your cheek instead, and leaves without a glance back.

As you hear the door shut, your heart breaks.

It’s past midnight when you feel the bed dip. You startle awake, hand immediately reaching for the gun in the drawer—given to you for defense, in case he wasn't here—before a warm hand envelopes your own, stopping your action.

“Just me,” Toji murmurs against your hair, pulling your hand back. 

You turn your body to face his and you simply just look at each other. You’re trying to read what his body language is giving off. Toji’s always been harder to read, but you’ve learned his cues over the years, but it seems like he isn’t giving anything away right now. He hasn’t been like this since the first year you’ve been with him.

He watches you and despite it being pitched back, Toji can see your eyes wavering, glistening with tears that you stubbornly don’t want to spill, something you learned to do when he still did missions and he came home with injuries you had to suture back together under the fluorescent light of the bathroom.

“Go back to sleep,” he tells you, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

You stir in the late morning, the sound of the shower slowly luring you out of your sleep.

You sit up, dazed, a bit unsure if last night was a dream. The sound of the shower who holds the man of the hour tells you it wasn’t. The drawer that you reached for is still open and as you close it, you notice the picture that used to haunt the corner is gone, left is the faded outline in its wake.

You gently close it as you make your way to the living area.

You note the small bag Toji packed, placed neatly next to the shoe shelf at the entrance as you make your way to the kitchen to start the coffee machine up. By the time you’ve taken your third sip, you hear the water shut off. 

Toji emerges from the hallway, towel over his head as he dries off his hair. He looks up when he hears you set down the mug. He freezes at the threshold. A figure standing there like he never left.

You stare at each other the same way you did last night, only this time, there aren’t any sheets or darkness to hide beneath. Bare. Naked. Nowhere to run off to.

He breaks first, always did when there was something off between the two of you. You often assume that his efforts to try to bridge the gap was a product of his last relationship. “I’m sorry for scaring you last night,” he tells you, making his way over to you.

You aren’t sure if he’s referring to leaving you so abruptly or coming back so late in the night.

He folds and sets the towel as he stands against the island while you lean opposite of him on the stove counter. 

Toji’s jaw sets. His gaze drops over you and you let his eyes trace the curve of your figure, the scar on your knee you earned from jumping off a swing, your bare feet braced against the cold tile as if you were ready to flee at any moment. He's assessing you, a habit you both think he'll never shake off. His fingers grip the island’s edge as his eyes make their way back to your face and stays there.

You know that look: he’s giving you this moment to speak your piece.

You don’t. Not yet. All you do is turn your head away. 

Somehow, he’s invaded your space. His slow rising chest against your fastening one. His thumb caresses both your cheeks to catch the tears that are slipping behind from your closed eyes before turning your head towards him. He holds you there.

“Look at me, please?” he begs.

You open your eyes, taking him in as if it might be the last time you’ll see him. The dark circles under his pupils tell you part of the story and his five o'clock shadow finishes it.

“I'm sorry for the way I left you last night. I would never leave you like that,” he tells you firmly, with so much certainty it almost leaves you breathless. 

“You really scared me,” you finally voice out loud, hand coming up to cover over his.

“I know” he lowers his stance to meet your eyes head on. “And I’ll never do that again.”

You shake your head. “I wouldn't've been able to blame you if you never came back.”

“No, no, no,” he coos, “baby, no, I could never throw away what we’ve fought so hard to keep together.”

“I know you still love her. I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself if I kept this a secret from you.”

“She leaves tomorrow night,” he informs you and your brows furrow at this; at why he’s telling you. “She’s single. Works at a cafe. Is about to start school to finally become a nutritionist. ”

“W-why are-”

He let’s go to brace his arms between you. “I care about her,” he spells out to you slowly, “I will always cherish the love we had back then but… she isn't now. She isn't you.

Your breath hiccups as you try to hold his eyes to let him know you understand what he’s trying to say.

His green eyes are dark with certainty, with a clarity that reads as though he's reaching the same conclusion you're coming to at this very moment: closure.

He takes a step back, paces around a bit, before running one hand then the other through his thick hair. “She isn't what I need anymore,” he says, “I know I don’t say it often but I love you. I love what I have with you. We’ve been through thick and thin, you and I. And I know I’m not perfect. I’ve made you cry. I’ve relapsed, but you know I’m trying. Always for you. For us.”

He licks his lips before swallowing. “And god, you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me in a while.”

“Toji,” you say, pulling his hand to your lips to kiss the inside of his palm. “You’re trembling.”

“Fuck,” he mumbles under his breath. “Because I don’t deserve you. Because I’m afraid-” and then he stops. 

Because lately, what Toji’s afraid of the most is that he doesn’t want to come home to an empty apartment today. Tomorrow. Ever. You're the only one who’s ever made it feel like it could be a home. Made it a place where he could be himself; without the fear of being rejected, scorned, or scarred. 

“I’m right here,” you tell him, as if you’ve read his mind.

And you really, truly should have known that with Toji’s uniquely abled body, what was meant to serve as a barrier and a means of contraception did not work.

You feel like throwing up. What would Toji say? What would he do? What are you supposed to do? Should you tell him, fill him in on what’s going on to risk rejection and abandonment, a nasty habit that Toji had to work to rid himself of when he met you? Would he even care? Would he listen?

You know Toji to be a very tough man, despite the softened interior he attempts to hide in others’ company that is only displayed for you and for his kids. If he has always been adamant about one thing, it’s been to never have kids again, to focus on where he fucked up before and to pour his attention into the little family he’s grown, the one that he has now.

His voice echoes through your head like the gong of a church bell striking upon the ear’s of a sinner.

“Hell, I already got my hands full tryna get Megumi through his teenage years. What the hell is another child gonna do for us?”

“That shit’s fuckin’ expensive. Not to mention, I’d have to baby proof the house again. That’s another expense.”

“If I was capable of givin’ you y’er own, I would, doll. But I ain’t cut out for it. You know that.”

You don’t even know why he would stress the matter so often. You suppose he’s caught the way your eyes linger on a mother tossing their giggling baby up and down into the air, innocent pools of joy beaming down at her each time it reaches the air and lands in her secure hold. Or maybe he’s seen the way you care so deeply for Toji’s kids as though they are your own, despite telling you when you first got involved with each other that he did not expect you to step into their lives in anyway - and yet, you have done that and more. You know how the kids must struggle each day with the trauma of losing their mother so early on, and you never wanted them to think that you were trying to step in as her replacement, but you love them so clearly, as much as you love the man who created them.

Which leads you to your next concern. How would the kids react?

It’s one thing for you, as their father’s girlfriend, to wander into their lives and help navigate them their teenage hood alongside the dark haired man, but to introduce an entire other child only leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

They may be crushed. They me turn to hate you, to despise how you have contaminated the life they have worked so hard to rebuild after numerous tragedies. And would Toji agree with them? Would he turn his nose up to you, that scowl of his melting over his harsh features as he shuns you just as he shunned every other woman who came after his wife and before you. Would he leave you? Would he kick you out of the world that has become your own because you failed to live up to your promise, though it technically isn’t your fault that you are pregnant now but it feels as though it is?

You can not stand the thought, of the man you love turning his once loving gaze stone upon the sight of you, of him pushing you further away, permanently, in the same manner that he tried to when he realized that he was falling in love with you, of watching Megumi and Tsumiki turn their backs to you as though the past four years of your lives had never happened, banning you from their acceptance forever more.

Tears well in your gaze, interfering with your vision. This can not be happening, you think to yourself, everything has been going so well, and now this? This is going to ruin your relationship with Toji for good. Even if you were not in a committed relationship with him, you assume that the idea of any woman getting impregnated by Toji would have been thrown away. You would be thrown away, just like all the others who gave Toji their bodies but not their hearts.

Not the way you have.

Your heart clenches thinking of just how much you love Toji and the kids, of how you would be willing to lay down your own life for the sake of them as Toji swears that he would for you all in return. Even so, despite the commitment to you that a man who swore never to be committed to accustomed, this would be going too far.

…You’re not even sure if he would love you anymore.

Now that you’re pregnant with his child, a child he never meant to have with you, you assume you will mean nothing to him any longer. In his eyes, you will simply become the slut that he took a chance on by a whim, carrying something he would never call his own. You believe the old Toji will resurface, the one who claimed not to care, the one who shoved women out of his bedroom before the sun rose in the sky, the one who often failed to remember to pick his kids up from school, the one who would no longer meet you at eye level but look down upon you, frown upon you for being so clumsy.

You know Toji is the one who did this, but this still feels like it is your doing. Like somehow, you trapped him and he now has no choice but to break free from the steel cage you have barred around him with your conception.

Your fingers clutch over the plastic, your eyes scrunching closed to release a fresh set of tears that cascade over your cheeks and onto the test. You can feel yourself mourning your relationship already, you can feel it slipping through your fingers, see it fading in the distance until it becomes nothing but a bittersweet memory that you can not determine as reality or a figment of your imagination any longer.

You tilt your head, bringing the test to your forehead as you think, grieve, cry. You mull over your options; you could hide this from Toji, get an abortion and never think of it again or you could tell Toji and lose him forever.

You open your bleary eyes, lashes decked with dewy tears, as another idea dawns upon you. You could leave, leave before Toji and the kids have a chance to leave you.

It’s a cruel thought, you think, especially abandoning those children without any proper explanation for them, but what else are you meant to do? You’d be doing them all a favor if anything by taking your leave without them having to be plagued by the knowledge of your unplanned pregnancy, of what they may view as a scheme to destroy their family in your new baby’s wake.

The thought kills you to even entertain. You had promised those kids that you weren’t going anywhere, that you’d stay with them for as long as they allowed you… but this is different. This is not what any of you had in your cards, how you believed your futures to go. Toji wants simplicity at home while he works through chaos through his occupation. He wants security, warmth, safety for you, Megumi, Tsumiki, and no one else. He would never welcome another child. You believe he’d be caught dead before approving of your pregnancy.

And therefore, you know what you have to do.

After taking a few more tests to ensure that the readings are accurate, which they are, you pledge to walk away. You pledge to leave the only man you’ve ever truly loved, the strongest family you’ve known, and the slim possibility that despite Toji’s wishes, he may accept you.

But you don’t want to take that chance and risk the humiliation and unplanned heartbreak. You’d much rather take matters into your own hands, and plan the shattering of your soul yourself.

You don’t sleep all night, for you’re too busy drafting about twenty different letters to Toji. Crumpled loosleaf paper litters the floor beside your bed as you try to think of how to best write down everything you want to say. You go through pages and pages until you are finally satisfied with the result, and the next morning, you slip the envelope into his mail slot and prepare to pack your life away.

It is late Sunday morning when Toji rises from his slumber. The first thing he does is lean over the sheets and drape his arm toward his nightstand to read your daily good morning text - only he finds there isn’t one. With pinched brows, he takes his phone to unlock it and visit your contact. Nothing.

The time reads 12:35 pm. Normally, you’re up and at it or even banging down his door by then to wake him. Maybe you’re just sleeping in?

He goes to give your cell a call, but nothing. Not only that, but your phone is also on do not disturb mode. His gut immediately swells with the suspicion that something is wrong. The dark haired assassin supposes he’s going to pay you a visit this afternoon as soon as he checks on the kids to ensure that they are alright.

His bedroom door opens with a creak, and he calls out to the teens gruffly through a yawn. When they don’t respond, he’s truly growing concerned.

He rounds the corner to prepare to head for their rooms when he finds Tsumiki and Megumi at the dining table. His brows furrow, his pace slowing as he takes in their faces. Tsumiki’s lips are pressed together tightly and the muscles in her face are scrunched as though she is about to cry, while Megumi stares ahead with empty eyes and a hardened exterior.

Toji frowns with quirked brows, approaching his kids. “What’s wrong with you two?”

His brunette daughter looks up at him with glassy eyes and wrinkled chin, lashes fluttering while Megumi does not bother to look at his father. Instead, he brings Toji’s attention to a torn envelope and a thick packet of papers pressed beneath the sixteen year old’s palm. Wordlessly, Megumi slides it toward him, brows slanting.

Toji, perplexed, looks between the papers and his children’s troubled faces. What is this letter? Overdue taxes? An eviction notice? That can’t be possible, because you had ensured that Toji and the kids’ place was secure long ago.

He crunches the papers in his hands and picks them up to read. The first thing that catches his eye is your scribbling handwriting, and the following words that send his heart plummeting to his ass:

This isn’t working out.

Toji whips his head up, baffled, and when he meets Megumi’s gaze again, his eyes are ablaze with resentment.

“What the hell did you do?” he growls.

The green eyed man is not even thinking before he’s dialing Shiu’s number, asking him to watch the kids for the next hour or so, and running out of the apartment after throwing rather unconvincing words of assurance over his shoulder to his kids, who are still with disbelief - Tsumiki with devastation and Megumi with rage, for surely his father pushed you away.

Toji does not bother finding a ride, electing to run to your place which is only a few blocks away. You two were just discussing moving in with one another, combining households, and this is what you spring onto him? Not even for him to stumble across first, but his kids who look up to you and love you like their own mother?

Oh, he’s fuming, a rush of emotions taking over his mind as it fuels his speed. The letter you wrote is still crunched in his fist, whipping through the air as he makes his way to you.

Dear Toji,

This is not working out.

But before you rampage and get angry with me, please let me explain. Let me explain how much I love you, how much those kids mean to me, and how every day I wake up I want to be greeted by all of your smiling faces. For the rest of time, forever. You are undoubtedly the only man for me, and I truly believe that. I know you may think I’m bullshitting because of how the beginning of this letter contradicts what im saying now, but it’s true. I have never loved another person the way I love you, and while it scared me at first when you were so stubborn and full of anger that you misdirected onto me, I stayed and I waited and I helped you and I’ve loved you through every single moment, ever week, every month, and every year. You brought purpose back into my life, and I can picture you scoffing because you’d say the same, but I mean it. You, Tsumiki, and Megumi are the best things that have ever happened to me. I love you all so much.

But in this case, that love is not enough.

I hate to be doing this to you, to the kids, but I have no other choice. Things aren’t going the way they used to, and it’s not your fault but mine. I’m the reason. And it is tearing me apart to know that and simultaneously know what I have to do in order to keep you and the kids happy. Stable. I wish I could explain to you more why I am doing this, but I can’t. Not just because I am dying to picture you reading this, but because I truly can not say. I do not want to ruin you guys’ image of me. While I think that’s a selfish thing to say because who knows how me leaving is going to hurt you all, you would not understand even if you knew the reason behind this.

By the time you are done reading this, I will be gone. I’m going away because as long as I am not with you all, I can’t stay here anymore. I am staying with my mother while I get my travel plans arranged, because I know how you worry when you do not know where I am or if im safe. I should be gone by Friday.

Please do not come see me. I have made my decision, and you will only be hurting us more by trying to stop me. I won’t be stopped.

Kiss and hug and apologize to Megumi and Tsumiki for me. I hope you find someone who fills the role of their mother, someone who knows how Megumi likes to do his homework in the silence of his room with no music or anything, completely isolated so he can focus. Someone who knows how to fix Tsumiki’s eggs properly - to add extra butter to the sides when you fry them so the edges get crispier. Someone who won’t try to feed Gumi’a demidogs because he hates when people assume they can coddle up to them upon first introduction. Someone who cares for the wholly the way I do and always will.

And you. I know how stubborn you are. I know how angry you probably are at me right now, and I will miss that about you, but please do not let that interfere with the possibility of falling in love again. Beneath the layers of grit, standoffishness, and indifference, you are a man with a big heart. For me. For your kids. For those you love and seek to protect.

You say you aren’t a good man, and while that may be true to you, you are an amazing partner and you’ve already become an amazing parent. I’ve seen you grow, and I am so in love with you and so proud of you. I know you’ll be okay without me. It maybe take some time, but you’ll adjust to what’s best. I promise.

With all the love that could possibly be harbored in this world, you are everything to me and that is why I have to go. I wish you every happiness this planet can offer you, and I know that without me, you can begin to find joy again.

Love,

Your doll

You had believed to time this perfectly, for you know that Toji usually does not wake until one, so soon as you are finishing up packing, you are trudging down the stairs to the leasing office to inform them that you will be moving.

You push open the door to the first floor, the breeze hitting you gently, and you round the corner only to be blocked by the last person you wanted to run into during this time.

Your eyes widen as you look up, the burly figure you have grown oh so familiar with over the years heaving as though enraged, ivy eyes crowding over slim pupils as Toji glares down at you, an image of indescribable fury.

Your heart drops and your words die in your throat. “T-Toji?” you whisper, horrified of an outburst. You are rattled by fear, having been so unprepared to walk into this. You did not put it past him to chase you down. But you figured that you’d be at your parents by the time he woke. Then, you could have at least told them to tell him off at the door.

But no. Instead, here he is, six feet and then some of bulking mass as he takes quick, deep breaths that expand the entirety of his chest.

You shift. “What are you doing here-“

“What the fuck is this?”

Toji swiftly, yet aggressively, lifts the papers in his hands, now damaged by his travels and his grip, shaking it firmly with the question. You gulp, lowering your eyes.

“Toji, I told you not to come…”

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he swears firmly, and you jump, looking to see if anyone is around to hear you, as the two of you are standing outside your complex.

“We shouldn’t be- let’s just go inside,” you go to grab his arm, but he tears it away. He stares at you as though you have burned him, singed the heart in his chest from the inside out, and he is so unforgiving. So unforgiving before he hears directly from your mouth what this is about.

“I’m not doin’ shit until you tell me what the fuck this is, (Y/n),” he demands, his hand moving the papers about passionately with his speech, and you feel your heart hammering again. This is not how things were supposed to go. You are not supposed to be seeing him right now. “Cause I refuse- I fuckin’ refuse to believe that you’re breaking up with me.”

Your eyes gloss over as you look down at your feet, unsure of what to do or how to handle this confrontation. You can’t do this. You can’t, it’s too much. It’s too hard.

“…I am,” you mumble.

Toji steps forward, leaning down to get a peek of your face, his expression so angry that it worries you. “What?”

“I said… I am.”

“Uh uh, you better say that shit with your chest if you can write a whole damn letter about it,” he growls, fucking further as you continue to turn away. “Look at me,” he barks, and you cringe.

“Toji, don’t yell at me!” you shout back.

“What else do’ya want me to do, huh?” he throws his hands up. “How else do you expect me to react to this bullshit?! You’re leavin’ me? After everythin’ we been through, after everythin’ you and the kids’ve been through, you’re leavin? Are you fuckin’ serious?”

He takes a swift glance at the papers, the very sight sending him into a spiral, before he’s heatedly looking back down at you.

“I don’t buy this shit for one second. No. You’re not leavin’. Not in this world, or the next.”

“I am, Toji, the quicker you accept that, the easier it’ll be for everyone!”

“Easy?” he winces as though the prospect pains him. “You call this shit easy? You call up and tryin’ to abandon me easy? You call the kids waking up to your letter and reading it at the table before I saw it easy?”

Your face falls. “…what?”

“Yeah. You fuckin’ heard me,” he sneers. “Megumi and Tsumiki read this shit first. First thing in the morning, they see a letter about how the woman they love is leavin’ ‘em, just like their mom did, and for what?”

You close your eyes, his words stinging you as they cut through. “Don’t say that.”

“Why not? It’s true, ain’t it? Y’er leavin’ us, (Y/n), and you didn’t even have the decency to say why!”

Guilt crowds you, like a blanket of darkness consuming you from overhead, and as Toji stands before you completely torn apart by your letter, you see the fear in his eyes, the sadness, the unspoken plea for you not to go.

You try your best to keep your composure as you turn away again. “I told you, I can’t tell you.”

“Fuck that,” he lifts the letter and tosses it to the ground with a thud. You gasp, watching it slam to the concrete pavement.

“Toji!” you exclaim.

“You think you can just leave without me comin’ to hunt you down and see your face so I can figure out what the hell is goin’ on? You must not know me at all.”

“Why do you always have to be so aggressive about everything?!”

“Of all fuckin’ things, (Y/n), I think I got a right to be aggressive about this. You were gonna leave without sayin’ goodbye!” he tosses his arm out to the side with the exclamation, brows twisting and teeth bearing. “Is that what our relationship means t’ya? You think you can just toss us aside?”

“That’s not what I’m doing,” you beg, a lump forming in your throat as the two of you stand face to face, arguing without a car about who will see you.

“Then tell me,” he shouts. “Cause you’re not givin’ me shit to go off of!”

“I told you already, I can’t,” your lips quiver.

“Then our relationship is nothing to you.”

“No, Toji.”

“Clearly it ain’t, cause I’d think it’d be worth an explanation if you’re runnin’ away!” you frown and shake your head, turning to walk back into the complex when Toji cuts you off, moving in your way. “You don’t think I know you? You don’t think I see it all over your face that somethin’s got you scared, and y’re takin’ off because of it? You think I don’t know what that looks like, (Y/n)? I did that shit. I did it all the damn time before I met you, and hell, I tried to run then but you wouldn’t let me, so what the hell makes you think I’m gonna let you now?”

“This is different,” you say shortly, afraid to reveal the tremble of your voice to the man before you. You keep your gaze down as you try to go around him again, but to no avail. He steps in your path. “Stop!”

“I ain’t stoppin’,” he says gravely, keeping his eyes to yours though you try to avoid contact with them. “Not until you spit it out. I’ll be damned if I got another broken home cause y’re fuckin’ scared.”

“I said stop!” you try to find some bass in your voice, but against your will, it falters when you yell. Toji eyes you carefully, reaching his hand out to grip your shoulder and steady you into place.

You scoff, attempting to pull away, but it’s no use. The dark haired man is everywhere, keeping you from walking away.

“You talk to me like the grown ass woman you are,” he tells you sternly, stepping in. “You use that voice I know you have, and don’t you ever let me catch you writin’ a letter to me about how you wanna break up instead of comin’ to talk to me. Y’understand?”

You exhale shakily, lips pressing together and brows curling. “I can’t.”

“Y’re still not tellin’ me why you think that.”

“Because I can’t, Toji. I can’t tell you. It’ll- it’ll fuck up everything!” you break, and Toji feels the pit in his stomach shift as he looks over your aggrieved expression, depicting the same exact things he feels.

“(Y/n),” he calls your name firmly, the sound of it on his tongue only inspiring the urge to cry more. You continue to shake your head though Toji isn’t exactly speaking, and his green eyes wander you with frustrated concern. “Y’scared of what I’ll do if you tell me?”

You freeze, slowly peeling your eyes to look at his, his face tense with grief. You stare at him for a moment, mouth gaping like a fish as all of your insecurities that talked you toward this ledge run through your mind once more.

“Don’t look surprised,” he says. “I know you like the back of my hand, and I know that you knew I’d be over here to stop ya.”

Your frown deepens, and this time as you look at him, you see every second of your future that you were quick to stomp dow. You see the unbridled, unfiltered love he holds for you as well as the blood curdling fear of letting you go.

“You have to understand,” you whimper. “I know how you’ll react, I- I can’t do this to you. You have to let me go.”

“What the hell could be so horrifyin’ in that head of yours to make you think that I won’t stick with ya through hell and high water?” he grits out, searching your swollen hues of (e/c) hesitation. “You’d do the same for me.”

“I know, but-“

“There’s nothin’ else to say. I ain’t leavin’ until you spill, and when you do, y’re comin’ with me.”

You look at him, pained. It’s a trap, you think. If Toji only knew, he’d be running for the hills instead of trying to track you down.

“Out with it, now.”

You can’t. You can’t tell him. He’ll leave you, he’ll reject you, he’ll turn you away, he’ll never let you see the kids again.

“(Y/n)!”

“I’m pregnant!”

The earth seems to freeze and time seems to slow. You scrunch your eyes, anticipating the worst to come as Toji takes in your words, his tensed expression melting slowly.

You don’t open your eyes to see his reaction. You keep your head ducked and your fists closed as the white noise of nature flutters into relevance. You’re trembling, terrified, and Toji can not move but instead proceeds to stare at you, stunned.

His words about not wanting any more kids run through your mind again as you await his response, and the suspense kills you as you do. You can feel his grip on your shoulder slacken before tightening again, and you are terrified.

He’s going to leave you.

You are quick to step away when the sentiment arises once more, Toji’s hand falling from you arm. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, still unable to look at him. “I’m sorry, I know that you don’t want any more kids. I know, an I thought we were being careful, but- I took five tests. They’re all positive.”

“You’re pregnant?” he echoes, and you still. You knew it. You knew this would happen.

“I told you, Toji,” you exhale. “I told you that I couldn’t tell you, and now everything’s a mess.”

He twitches. “Hold on-“

“Don’t tell me all of a sudden you want kids,” you snap. “I know how strongly you feel about it.”

“So instead of talkin’ to me, you were gonna leave? Knocked up? That doesn’t make any sense.”

“What other choice do I have?!” you cry. “You don’t want more kids, and if I kept it, it would only be a nuisance to you. And Megumi and Tsumiki?”

He scrunches his face. “What about ‘em?”

“How do you think they’d feel if the woman you’re dating after their mother died surprised them with a new baby? They’d be crushed!” you say shakily as salty tears well in your eyes again. “I can’t overstep your boundaries. I just can’t. It’s easier for me to go.”

“And do what, (Y/n)? Raise a kid on your own without any help?”

“I can’t bare you leaving me!” you suddenly confess, tear striking past your cheek.

Toji examines you and frowns. “What are y’talkin’ about? You’re tryin’ to leave me!”

“So I can prevent the inevitable from happening,” you huff. “I’m okay with it. I’ve made peace with everything. That’s why you need to just let me go-“

“After everythin’, you think I’d throw you away because you’re pregnant with my kid?” Toji says incredulously. You falter, for you had been so sure of his reaction before. “You think that low of me?”

“No, but I want you to have what you want.”

“What I want is you, you fuckin’ idiot,” he hisses. “All I ever wanted was you, and I can’t fuckin’ believe you’re tryin’ to take that away from me.”

You furrow your brows, confused. “…You’re not mad?”

“Girl, I’m livid,” he scowls. “Not about the damn kid, but because you assumed what I would say before comin’ to me.”

“Toji, you have to understand that I was trying to look out for you.”

“There’s not lookin’ out for me or those kids or makin’ them happy if you’re gone, (Y/n),” he bites. “Who th’fuck put that idea in your head?”

You stammer, tears proceeding to flow down your face as you reel in the reality of the situation. “I… I just thought-“

“I don’t wanna hear it.”

Before you can respond, his hand is gripping your wrist and he’s tugging you toward him into his chest. You shake when you fall into him, listening to the pace of his heart rapidly beating against your ear as he breaths quickly against you. Large palms smooth over your head and down to your waist as he holds you tightly, and you notice how desperate his grip is. He’s holding you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, as though you’ll fly away if his hold is not tight enough.

He tucks his head into your neck, fingers grasping into your shirt, and suddenly the animosity of the moment prior is gone. You’re still trembling, leading Toji to hold you tighter to him.

“Can’t believe you tried to leave,” he murmurs into your hair. “Christ, (Y/n) you’re tryin’ to gimme a heart attack. The fuck is goin’ on with you.”

“I’m sorry,” you mumble into his chest, looking off sadly. “I thought you’d be upset about it. I didn’t want you to know.”

“I should know about any and every single thing that’s goin’ on with you, y’hear me? This ain’t no exception.”

A weight flutters from your shoulders as you sink into Toji’s head, silent tears streaming for the life you almost sacrificed. “What are we gonna do?”

“I dunno,” he mumbles. “But we’ll figure it out. As a team. Alright?”

You nod meekly. “Okay.”

He groans, pressing himself impossibly further to you. “That letter… fuck, don’t do that shit. Don’t fuckin’ scare me like that. Without you, I ain’t shit- pregnant or not. And those kids would adore another sibling if you were bringing it into this world. Don’t say that shit about them again either. They need ya. We need ya.”

“I’m sorry,” you whine again, Toji’s hand stroking over your back soothingly.

And deep down, you know it. You that is exactly what you are doing when you are first plowed with that nauseating, neverending, persistent feeling that eats away at your heart and poisons your mind, the feeling that first makes you stop and think, obsess over your insecurities, and question whether you really are good enough.

You know when you feel envy strike, when a sickening sense of inferiority crowds you in the shadow of that woman's loss against your best efforts, against your wishes.

You know it when suddenly you think that Toji's kisses have gone colder, that his eyes have shifted into darkness when you are around, that his mind is elsewhere when he is physically with you. You know it when that air of breeziness falls, and the honeymoon period of feeling as though you are floating gives away. You come crashing back to the ground, back into the land of doubt, the land of fear, the land of inadequacy.

And you know it's you, and only you, because Toji has never given you any reason to second guess his motives or his true feelings within your relationship.

The man had been so guarded when you first met him. He shoved you away enough times for you to learn that when he eventually let his guard down, it is not because he does not take you seriously but because he does, painfully and scarily so. It tore him apart so much to finally reveal himself to you that your self destructive habits fell by the wayside, and true love overpowered - a desire to help him, to open his eyes to the world that he can and does deserve.

Toji has only ever loved you. He has only ever cherished you like you could vanish into thin air at any second, loving you as if every day he has you is his last, never, ever risking the chance of taking you for granted. How could he, when you've become everything to him after he had been so lost for so long? After you brought reason, light, joy, and hope back into his life?

You know Toji loves you. You feel it. You see it.

But the fears come back regardless, so natural to you, you're surprised that they had even left. A shift in tone, an unanswered text, a fleeting kiss are all enough to send the first trigger shooting through your brain.

Then comes a lingering gaze on an old family picture with his ex that Toji forgot he had swimming in the caverns of his camera roll, swiftly swiped past with a blink back to reality.

It's all enough to set your mind off, to provoke the voices that roar in your head that you are not loved, but rather, a mere replacement. A placeholder. An empty husk serving in the space where someone used to be, someone who would be there still if cruel life had not stripped her from this world.

You begin to subconsciously compare yourself to her at every chance your mind gets to torture you. You begin to stare longer at the family picture that still sits on Megumi's window sill, to trace the counters in a daze, wondering if it was her who picked the marble finish in the kitchen - as you know Toji is not the kind of man who pays such things attention. You fall silent as your mind rages, absolving you of your speech, and twisting it into a curse upon your subconscious.

You think. You think. And think until it physically aches to do so, but no matter how much it hurts, you can not stop it. You can not shut it out. You can not make your thoughts go away. They simply expand, grow worse by the day, and if the questions were not already bad, the guilt that swarms you is ten times worse.

How could you obsess so much over a dead woman? Someone who is not even alive anymore? Someone whom this household you have weasled your way into lingers in the unspoken, in the air, behind the corners you turn, in the whistle of a kettle, in the eyes of his son, in the spaces you fill?

Its not right to think of her in such a way. To tarnish her memory by selfishly clinging onto this image that you could never truly know, to disgrace Toji's grief and his devotion to you by swearing that he could only ever love her, that it is not you he loves but the projection of her that he has utilized you for.

It's insane. You know it is. But you can not help it. You've never loved someone like this, nor have you ever loved someone who had not become single on his own accord but by force, by fate. As you sink into comfort, your mind awakes in alert. Its faith and belief in the reality of things slip away, and you are stuck believing lies, believing that you are not good enough, believing that a ghost would serve better in your place.

You've seen the pictures of Megumi's mother. She was radiant and beautiful, effortlessly so. You see the same softness in Megumi's eyes that she once had, and you wonder what Toji thinks every time he looks at the boy, if he has to push down the ache that stems from their striking similarities.

You find yourself looking in the morning and picking at your face, frowning at the reflection that stares back at you. You don't have here wild, raven hair, her smooth, perfect skin. You don't have whatever effect she had that drew Toji to her in the first place, that made him fall so deeply in love that when she faded away, he lost all sense of purpose.

You aren''t her. You could never be her, and you wonder how Toji bears to look at you. How he turns to you and smiles when you know deep down what he really wants, who he really yearns for, who you decide he imagines you to be.

You lay awake at night as he snores in your ear, arms wrapped tightly around your middle, and you wonder if he ever held her the same way. With one leg kicked up over your hips, his hands clutching you tight to his chest.

You wonder every night... is he dreaming of her? Do you really even exist to him if he only thinks of you as another version of her?

The fake version? The temporary?

You don't know when the last time it was when you got a full night's rest. You spend your evenings curled in his arms, staring at the ceiling with dark shadows under your eyes, lips clamped tight. As the second you close your eyes, the voices shout and steal any hope of sleep from you.

He doesn't really love you. You know that right?

He's only sleeping so well because he's pretending its her instead of you.

How could you ever think that he would love you after losing such a woman?

How could you even begin to compete with her?

And after a while, after enough self deprecation, after enough sleepless nights, you begin to subconsciously distance yourself from Toji. Not physically, but mentally.

When he kisses you, lips meeting your cheek in greeting, you shrink into your mind, body stilling as though you are a deer in headlights, eyes sharp and wide, lips clamped. Your voice has gone quieter - no longer lively and engaging but monotonous, timid, and almost cautious. Like you're afraid to be in his house. Like you are apologetic for your own presence.

You slip into a depression quite easily, and you don’t even think that Fushiguros realize, as you’re so distracted by your own thoughts. Why would they notice after all? It’s not like you’re Toji’s wife, nor are you Megumi or Tsumiki’s mother. Your emotions would likely just prove a further burden to them. After all, they lost so much when Megumi’s mother passed. You would only be further adding to such stress.

Yet, despite how you spiral into a pit of isolation, they do notice. Almost immediately, actually. It would be difficult to have ignored it. You display such a swift, drastic decline from your ordinarily bright and positive nature. And it worries the kids. It worries Toji.

Badly.

At first, he thinks he’s done something wrong when he notices you freeze at the slightest tough. Perhpaps, as usual, he's screwed up. He's said something stupid without thinking to hurt your feelings. But ordinarily, when you're upset with him, you let him know immediately. You don't go quiet, but in fact, you get loud. You challenge him, and despite his stubborness, he is forced to look within and rethink his actions.

You help him be better in that way.

So he rethinks it, but can not for the life of him understand what has happened, what's gone wrong. Do you resent him now? Have you lost all feelings for him? Has he made you feel trapped?

When he asks, you won't say. You'll simply flash him a smile that does not reach your eyes and tell him that you're fine. Despite the painful softness of your voice when you do that seems to pierce Toji straight through the heart, further emphasizing your lie. Despite that dark circles that run under your eyes, insinuating that you no longer sleep soundly with him at night. Despite the weight that appears to be sinking into your body, pulling your eyeline to the ground, dragging at your feet.

It's killing Toji, whatever is wrong with you, and it takes him a while to think that you could possibly dealing with something deeper that he can not understand. Some underlying darkness, a depression, perhaps, that has snuck back into your life now that you have settled into a new routine, a new happiness.

He never believed in the kind of stuff before. Not even when he was experiencing it himself after his wife's death. When his life veered off track and he no longer knew who he was. When killing became the only thing he felt he could do right in this world.

He didn't even realize that was what depression felt like until, of course, you. Until you opened his eyes to how bad his life had been when you miraculously made it better.

He decides that depression is certainly the problem when he comes home more often to you already laying in bed or staring off into space, in some far off world in your mind, separate from reality. The only two questions that remain are what triggered such an abrupt episode, if anything, and how could he help you out of it?

Or... more so... could he help you?

Toji worries in silent, active ways. He asks more questions, though casually, subtly, and sporadically. He'll ask more details about your day when he gets home from work, he'll suggest grabbing take out if he notices the food in the fridge still untouched by you. He'll grip you tighter in his sleep, waiting to doze just to see how long you'll stay awake as you pretend to be asleep with your back pressed to his chest and his fingers tracing light circles in your abdomen.

You notice the mindless habit as something new, and begin to wonder if he's catching onto you.

His embraces are longer in the mornings, when he prepares to leave for a job. His hands linger on your skin as he makes his way to the door, his eyes catching you a number of times before the door closes and separates you, and you are left alone once more with your thoughts.

His kisses are softer, more tender, more cautious.

You can feel him growing wearier, more hesitant. And while this is due to Toji's uncertainty with how to approach you or make sure you're okay without further upsetting you, you only take his behavior as a further sign of his rejection of you. Of his true feelings finally showing.

It's yet another sleepless night at Toji's.

Despite your daily struggle to stomach being in this home, surrounded by so many memories of a woman you never met, you can't find the strength to go anywhere else. This is your home now, after all. You're a part of the family, of the house, of the life that should be hers, not yours. Though you want to leave with all your heart, she's keeping you here, the impossible standard, the first choice. You almost tell yourself that you deserve this feeling, that you would be a coward to run away from such harsh reality.

You have a blanket from the couch wrapped snug around your body, cocooning you as you shrug a lukewarm cup of coffee to your lips. The house is still, everyone but you asleep, and it took a significant amount of shuffling to manage to rise from the bed without waking your boyfriend. Though he's a deep sleeper, the second he feels you moving to even go to the bathroom, he's awake.

Hell, you're surprised you managed to get away this time. Maybe that's another sign of Toji's growing disconnect from you.

Your eyes sting when you blink. Your skin is cold despite the warmth that captures you, and your mind does not rest, so you give into the insomnia and trek across the floors that she once padded over with barefeet, wondering if yours are the same size, if you could somehow begin to fill those prints.

You feel as though you've internally begun to break up with Toji without trying. It feels like you're in a constant state of mourning, as though the man you love is not still right there before you - yours.

But how could he really be yours when he belongs to someone else?

You're so caught up in your thoughts that you do not feel Toji's presence at the corner. He does not make himself known, as his remarkable skills of stealth are put to use as to keep himself hidden from you until he decides to step into the light.

The dark haired man is quiet as he watches you, your back to him and your shoulders tense. When he surveys you more carefully, closer, he notices the tremble in your hands that sends tremors throughout the liquid in your mug.

Toji's eyes are half open, his hair is ruffled to hell, and his pants hang low on his hips as he stares at you. He woke the moment you moved out of bed, but waited to follow you to reduce suspicion. He wanted to know where you were running off to without alarming you further into isolation.

And now that he sees that you are just standing in his kitchen alone and motionless, he feels his chest tighten with something he can not name. He looks at you like you're a mirror, a reflection of his past self, and the notion only spirals him into further concern.

Toji always swears to protect you, to keep you and his kids safe from physical harm. It was the physical that took his first love away, and Toji refuses to let that happen again. Not with you. Not with the woman he intends to spend the rest of his life with.

He fears now, however, that he can not protect you from the mental dangers. The traumas, the internal voids, the voices in your head that ring without stop like an out of tune church bell.

The corners of Toji's lips tug downward and the side of his head knocks agains the wall. Why are you so unhappy? Is it him? Is he making you unhappy? Is he turning your relationship sour? How? Why? What can he do? Why does he feel so useless?

As if on its own, as if drawn to you, urged by a need to fix whatever is wrong, his body pushes himself away from the wall and inches forward mutely. He steps slowly into the space, closer to you. His brows are tugged together and there is a slight curl on his lips, one you mistake for disgust when you catch his shadow creeping up from out of the corner of your eye.

You startle, hastily setting your cup of coffee down on the counter as your eyes nervously catch the ivy hues that gaze down at you through the dimness. You turn to face him fully, leaning your hip against the counter as you instinctively pull your lips together in a halfhearted, tight line Toji thinks you'd call a smile.

"Toji," you say his name like you don't expect him to find you in his own home, like you're surprised that he would ever come after you. Which makes no sense to the assassin, who would jump from moving cars to get to you. "Hey, I'm sorry. I was trying to be quiet."

And you're apologizing. Again. Like your existence is a nuissance. Like you can't bear for your own boyfriend to perceive you in this light, or in any light for that matter.

It's tearing the man apart.

In a sleepy daze, Toji reachs a calloused hand out to your face once he settles a few feet before you. He's experimenting, testing the space and how much you allow between the two of you before you shrink away.

You hold Toji's gaze as his fingers graze your cheek, but it feels like you're staring through him rather than at him. Your eyes are empty. Cold. Exhausted.

The ivy eyed man tilts his head as he observes you quietly, sternly, and that's when you shift in the slightest. You switch weight on either foot, and your chin twitches down within a fraction of a second as his hand melts over your cheek and his gaze intensifies.

You feel him trying to pick you apart. What is it he's looking at? The flaws in your face? How strikingly different you are from his ex wife? Is he noticing up close now? How you'll never compare?

You expect some kind of insult to tumble from his lips every time he looks at you in such away. But you have become blind to the gentleness in his eyes when your vision greets him, soft and sweet. You no longer see the depths of love under layers of hardness, and the worry that so evidently swirls in his sharp irises that he attempts to stabilize with a blank expression.

You don't see anything but your own inadecuacy anymore.

So when his gravelly voice rasps out the obvious question: "Couldn't sleep?" you are even more confused, immediately searching for the hiding meaning in such an ordinary ask.

You take a moment to respond, like you've forgotten how to hold a conversation. You glance at the oven light and see that the time reads 3:32 am. Toji hates being up so late, especially when he has a big job in the morning.

Here you go, causing him even more problems. You're such a burden. You're sure his wife never would have posed him such inconvenience.

"Huh?"

You realize you've waited too long to say anything. You snap your eyes back to his like a deer in headlights and nod slowly. "Was just thirsty," you say.

He quirks a brow, eyes dragging down to your mug. "For the one thing that'll keep you up all night?"

You tug your blanket closer around your arms. "I just... didn't think I would be going to bed any time soon."

Something shifts in Toji's eyes as his hand falls from your face. He steps closer to you, watching your eyes dart between his feet and his face momentarily. Jesus, it's like you're afraid of him or something. You never have been before. So what's the problem now?

"Not going back to bed," he repeats your words, linking his pink finger around the mug handle and sliding it toward him. "Well, darlin', we both got work and the kids got school in a couple hours. I don't think y're getting away with another night of no sleep."

Toji abandons the cup to open his arms to you, bringing one arm around your shoulder to gently guide you to him. He feels your shoulder tense as you step into motion like a zombie, and he looks down at you out of the corner of his eye.

You don't look at him. You just stare.

The embony haired assassin stops, the two of you in the hall leading toward your shared bedroom. You blink in confusion and look up at your boyfriend as he steps out of your way, gesturing his arm forward for you to walk back in before him. You turn to look longingly back at the kitchen before trudging back into your room wordlessly, clinging tight to that blanket as Toji shuts the door behind you.

"(Y/n)," he calls your name, and you freeze in your tracks. Your nerves shock, your heart skips a beat, and you slowly turn over your shoulder, anxious, timid. God, it's so unlike you.

Toji leans against the door with a heavy exhale, watching you with that sharpness only a man trained to murder could withhold. He crosses his arms, frowning.

"You gonna tell me what's been goin' on with you or am I gonna have to get it out of you myself?"

You pale at the steadiness of his voice, the words that followed, and that dead serious look in your eye. You always imagined this moment, but could never prepare for it properly. Truthfully, you had no idea what to say. You're embarrassed. Vulnerable. Scared. Sad.

The very thought of even trying to tell him what's going on inside your mind chokes you up, for what the hell would he even say to you obsessing over his dead wife? What if he drops his facade of loving you and admits the truth? What if he sneers down at you, shaming you for all that you can not be for him and his kids? What if he leaves you?

You're paralyzed with horror, so uncertain of everything. Toji notices the way your body stiffens like some kind of defense mechanism, and it dawns on him that you are possibly shifting into fight or flight mode.

...How could he have let things get so bad?

He tilts his head, softening his voice into a mumble. "Doll?" your delicate nickname flutters from his tongue into the emptiness of your bedroom, and your heart aches. The nickname addresses you, but you hear its distant ring, its call to its rightful owner, its past life - sweet on someone else's ears before you.

His frown deepens as you shrink further into yourself without any words, but with just a particular look in your eye that makes Toji's bones ache.

He kicks himself up from the door and moves toward you. You take an involuntary step back, and he halts. As if burned.

You see that his face contort when he notices, and you curse yourself. He looks like you just threw fire at him.

"S-Sorry."

"Are you scared of me?"

The question settles into the air, raw with passion, a hiss, a torn whisper, and you hear your heart break. The spell around you shatters for a moment as Toji looks at you so perplexed, wounded in a way that he would only show you, plain in a veil of frustration.

You're shocked by it.

"What?"

"Don't act confused, like you haven't been jumping away any time I'm near you lately." The space between the two of you is thick in the air. You feel so far away, despite being closed within the same space. "Is it me? You don't like how I make you feel? Is that it?"

You know Toji so well. Even as his tone echoes monotonously and somewhat condescending, you can hear the underlying pain in those sentences.

"Are ya quiet because that's it? I'm right?"

"No," you finally say hastily. You see Toji's shoulders relax a bit, though his guard has gone up slightly from the sentiment. You can't believe that he would ever think something like that, that you could actually ever be scared of him. "Of course not, Toji. I could never be afraid of you. Do you hear what you're asking?"

And Toji hears the first semblances of passion in your voice after months of colorlessness, and despite the weight of the conversation topic, hope strikes - gentle and refrained.

"Hell, girl, you're not giving me much else to think," he admits. "It feels like you've been hating me lately."

"Why would I hate you, Toji?"

"You tell me. Y're pullin' away when I kiss you, you're flinching around me like I'm gonna break you, we haven't had sex in weeks -"

"I haven't been feeling well," you interject, not wanting to hear more about how you've been subconsciously treating him.

Toji presses his lips together, scar creasing. "I know. That's why I'm asking now what's wrong with you."

"...Because you want to have sex?"

"The fuck (Y/n)? No. 'Cause I care about you and I wanna get to the bottom of whatever this is." He squints his eyes at you as you reel back slightly.

"Oh," is all you say.

"See, it's shit like that," he murmurs. "I must've done something to make you act this way around me."

You sigh heavily. "No, Toji, you didn't. Really."

"But it's something."

"I..." that image of Megumi's mother on his window sill flashes through your head and you twitch. "It's not you."

You get a far off look in your eye before turning your gaze away. "Then what is it, doll? Huh? You sad? Did something happen?"

"I dunno, Toji. It's nothing," you exhale, turning around to face your bed. You stare at the tussled sheets as your lips tug downward, heart heavy, and a lump forming in your throat. "Let's just go back to sleep."

"You're not going to sleep. You'll be up for hours."

"No I won't."

Toji moves over to you as you start to climb back onto the bed. "What are you lying for?"

"I'm not lying," your voice drops as you clamber up, crossing your legs to sit on the edge of the comforter as Toji stands directly before you, looming over, staring down.

"You take me for some kind of idiot?" he scoffs. "I know you."

"I'm fine, Toji. Really. I - I'm just tired. Can we please," you nod toward his side of the bed, and his eyes catch the empty space for a moment but inevitably land back on you, much to your chagrin.

The assassin falls silent again, letting the emptiness take over you as tension builds. You're beginning to panic.

"(Y/n), when's the last time you got a full night's sleep?" he eventually asks.

He knows the answer already. You're sure of it. Or else, he wouldn't have been asking.

You swallow hard as you look at him with slightly widened eyes. "Um... a couple days ago," you elect to say.

"You're lyin' again."

You frown. "Well then why would you ask me if you already knew the answer?" you snap, tone taking an abrupt iciness.

Toji squints his eyes at you. "Now you wanna give me attitude after months of not tellin' me the truth?"

"I'm not giving you attitude, Toji, for fuck's sake."

"Then what do you call that, huh? I can barely get a word out of you for weeks and now you're cussin at me. You can't tell me I didn't do somethin' wrong if this is how y're talkin' to me."

"I'm telling you it's nothing," you turn away with steely eyes. "Can't you just drop it?"

"You're askin' the impossible of me, girl," he exhales tiredly, dropping down to a knee before you to better meet your eyes. You see the motion out of the corner of your eye, but force yourself to continue looking away. "I can't drop shit that has to do with you."

You sour.

Those words once so sweet to you now only sound like a recycled promise.

You click your tongue and roll your eyes, looking down at your hands as you pick at your nails. "Yeah, right," you utter low under your breath.

"Excuse me?"

You shrink again. "Nothing."

"Uh uh," he reaches up to grab your chin and turn you toward him. Your jaw is set hard as your eyes snap back to his face reluctantly. You find that he is growing agitated with you, as his gaze is harder than before. "Run that by me again. You think I don't care about you?"

"Toji, please," you push his hand away. "We have work in the morning. Let's just-"

"I'm not gettin' back in that bed until you tell me what's wrong," he rests his elbow beside your leg and leans. "You know I'm dead serious. I don't care if it takes all night."

You find that there is no escaping. No lying. You knew there wouldn't be, anyway. This is Toji Fushiguro after all, stubborn as a bull, so much so that he took his ex's last fucking name.

Your heart pangs.

"So?" he pushes, lifting his brows. He nudges your knee. "Spit it out. You wanna break up?"

"Why would you ask that?" you scrunch your nose. "...Do you wanna break up?"

"The hell I do, (Y/n). I'm askin' you."

"But why?"

"Cause you're acting so fucking weird, baby," he emphasizes, eyes earnest and wounded. "You don't wanna split, then?"

"...No, Toji..." you deflate. "But if that's... I don't know, if that's what you want..."

"Don't turn this onto me. I'm not the one acting like your poison any time you touch me."

"I don't-"

"You do," he interjects. "If you don't wanna leave me, then what?"

You struggle to find the words, eyes falling to your lap. "I can't tell you."

"Why? You cheating on me?"

"No!"

"Did someone die?"

"No."

"Are you pregnant?"

"No," You shake your head again.

Toji ducks his head in defeat, finding himself running in circles. "Christ, are you gonna give me a hint?"

"I can't tell you."

"That doesn't make any sense. You're the one always tellin' me I can talk to you about anything. Now the roles are reversed and you wanna shut down. Like I'd ever let you pull away like that. Are you sick? Is your brain scrambled? Is that why you're thinking stupid shit like that?"

You shift, tugging your blanket tighter. "Why are you being so mean?"

"I'm not, (Y/n). I'm lost," he breathes. "And I'm losing it. You're freaking me out."

"Then maybe you should leave me be if I'm causing you so much trouble."

You stand and brush past him, opening the bedroom door to leave suddenly. You're in the darkness of the living space, rounding the corner back to the kitchen, but Toji is hot on your heels.

"I don't wanna fight with you on this," he growls.

"Then don't. I'm not fighting," you shrug.

You reach the kitchen again and lean over to grab your forgotten mug, but Toji cuts off your point of contact, stepping between you and sliding the drink further away. You glare up at him.

"Y're taking out all your shit on me," he observes. "You think I don't want you?"

"Oh my god," you grumble. You go to storm past him, but he is quick to grab your blanketed arm, stopping you in your tracks. You turn over your shoulder to eye him, your gaze coming off much nastier than it should, simply because you're hurting. And Toji is cracking away at your shell to get to the ugly truth.

"Don't walk away from me," he says. "I'm talkin' to you."

"Let me go."

And he does, but very slowly. He regrets it the moment you slip away again, disappearing into the bedroom. He follows you as you toss your blanket onto the bed, as you rifle through your closet for sweats and a jacket, as you leave to shove shoes on, and as you open the front door to step outside.

The air is cold and your breath hits the atmosphere in a visible fog. You hiss through your teeth as you step onto the steps and look around the neighborhood. You didn't grab your keys. You figured you'd just walk.

"(Y/n), get back inside," Toji shouts, shutting the door behind him to continue following you. You don't answer him. You just walk, and you hate how you know that he is behind you. You hate how his voice calls you, how it does not relent. You hate this reminder that he really does love you, and it's all because of her.

Because he sees her and not you.

It takes one last call of your name to make you stop and whip your head around. Your lips are pressed firmly together as tears well in your eyes like sprinkles of starlight. Your forehead is creased with something akin to devastation and your shoulders are so tense.

Toji immediately slows to a stop before you, and when he sees your tears, his harshness is crumbling. "Baby..." he starts.

"Just go!" you shout at him in the middle of the pathway. "Go, leave me alone! I can't be what you want me to be! I can't -" you shiver and choke over your own words. You heave in a breath, looking all around you through blurry eyes in a poor attempt to gather whatever pieces of dignity you have left.

You can't escape this feeling. It drags down on you, clings to you, and poisons you every single time you look at your boyfriend.

You sniff hard, scrunching your eyes tight. Lines of tears slide down your cheeks from your lashes as you huff, a confession bubbling in your chest that you can no longer keep away.

"- I can't be her," you blubber, knuckling away at your eyes. "I'm sorry. I can't. I'm just not. So please, please just... just let me go. It'll be better for us."

Toji knows exactly who you are talking about from the way you emphasize that pronoun. He finds himself stilling with shock, face falling, clouds of his breath floating into the night. Your sniffles and hiccuped breaths are the only audible noise out in the darkness, and Toji finds himself floored by the mention of his ex wife from the woman he intends to marry.

"I'm sorry," you manage again, hands palming at your damp skin. "I-I'm sorry. I just - I know how much she means to you, and I know it sucks not being with her and settling for me. And I t-think that if she hadn't - we would've never - " you can't finish your sentence.

"Woah," Toji starts, stepping close to you as you wipe your tears away and stifle your cries. "Alright, hold on," he murmurs low, gentle. He cradles your wrists softly, leading you to jump, and the pieces finally connect in Toji's head. He finally is starting to understand the issue.

Toji lowers your hands from your face, revealing your flushed, tear stained skin to him as your lips tremble. He brushes way excess tears for you, tucking pieces of hair into place thoughtfully.

"What's all this you're talkin' about my dead ex wife, doll?" he asks slowly, confused and slightly aggrieved by the topic. "Sayin' I settled for you? Are you kiddin? Don't tell me she's what's had you so depressed."

You hear the way he mentions her so breezily. He was never able to do that before, back when you first met him.

"Don't play dumb, Toji. Please," you whimper.

"I'm not playin' dumb, (Y/n). Maybe I am just plain dumb 'cause I don't understand," he says delicately. "Come back inside so we can talk about this."

You shake your head. "I can't go back in there."

"What are you talking about?"

"It's not my house, Toji. You know it's not. It's hers."

"Stop it," he says sternly. "Stop that shit. I don't like it."

"But it's true."

"It's your house."

"It was hers before it was mine. And it never would have been mine if-"

"Are you crazy?" he stops you. "Talkin' about her death like that. Have you lost your mind?"

You feel your heart crumble inside. You've hit a nerve. You know you have. That's why you didn't want to tell him. That's why you're better off just leaving him be. "I'm sorry," you say swiftly, and turn to go, but Toji is not having it. He secures your shoulders and keeps you in place.

"Stop trying to run away from me, girl. You're not going anywhere. Come back inside."

"Toji, you have to let me go."

"Not in a million years."

"I'm not her, Toji."

"You don't think I know that?" he furrows his brows. "Of course you're not her, (Y/n). I never expected you to be. I never asked you to be. Why are you stressin' over her all of a sudden?"

"It's not all of a sudden..." you trail off.

"...Okay." This is an inkling of progress. He'll take what he can get. "How long, then?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Yes," he says. "You been thinkin' like that since we met?"

"...No."

"Then for how long? Come on, (Y/n). I'm not gonna pry this shit from you all night. It's me," he whispers. Your brows curl with familiarity, with that ache of love. "Talk to me, baby. I'm askin' you."

You inhale sharply as another tear rolls down your face. Toji is quick to catch it on his thumb and swipe it away.

"How long?" he asks again.

You exhale. "I dunno... the last four or five months."

"And you've just been thinking all this shit in silence? By yourself?" You shrug. "Darlin', you're depressed. Look how you worked yourself up."

"Yeah. I know," you murmur.

"You always been like this?"

You shrug again with a wince. "Kinda."

"And this wife shit just set you off, then. Is that right?"

"...Yeah."

"Why?" he tilts his head. "What'd I do to make you start thinking about her so much?"

"I told you, it's not something you did," you sniff. You fall quiet and when you look at Toji, you see him waiting, expecting, as he is not going to continue to spoon feed you your own answers when you can speak yourself. He wants you to express yourself instead of keeping all of this in.

But it's hard. It's hard to give voice and power to what has only existed within your mind.

So you struggle for a bit, struggle to find the words, but Toji waits and hangs on to every silent second you think.

"I don't care how that shit sounds when you say it," he says suddenly. "I just want you to say it. Don't think about how it'll come off. Talk."

So you do.

"It's not something you did," you say again, quietly, timidly. "...It's just something I became aware of after I moved in... I know it's rude to shove myself into your family's grief, and I'm really sorry. I beat myself up for it every day, but... I don't know, somewhere along the line, I just started seeing her in everything," you confess. "And if I was seeing her, then I can only imagine what you and Megumi see... and I just thought that... you know, with how long it took you to open up to me... that you... started pretending or hoping I was her instead. Then I started obsessing even more."

Your confession settles hard into reality, and once the words have left you, you cringe. It's out in the open now. For Toji to scorn, to reject, to accept, to confirm.

Toji can practically feel the way your hear hammers by the pace of your pulse in your neck, and he deflates.

He thinks back to the death of his wife that still looms over his home every day, in every waking moment. He thinks of how the world drained of color, how his heart split in two, and how the blood of targets served in place of her warmth, as it was the only warm thing he could feel at the time.

He thinks of how he neglected his kids, how Tsumiki was left to care for Megumi during every last minute trip, every prolonged job, every bender, every fling. He thinks of how he couldn't even look Megumi in the eye without seeing what he lost, without being torn apart by the grief.

He thinks of how shitty he was when you met him. How many years of friendship it took for him to melt, to heal, to genuinely move on.

He thinks of the first time your laugh made his heart burst, as it was the first time he had felt such a thing in what felt like eons. He thinks of the first time he held your hand, how snug your soft skin felt against his palm. He thinks of your first kiss, and the guilt that wracked him when he knew that he was falling for you. That he was actually, truly, living again. Without her.

Toji frowns because he understands why you would think such a way. He really does. He spent the majoirity of the beginning of your relationship pushing and pulling, battling with the internal conflict, with the dilemma of honoring his ex wife while moving forward. He was so much different back then, so wishy washy, so torn. He hates how his grief could have made you think that his love for you isn't real, that it's only a placeholder, when you are everything.

Yes, his ex is dead. Yes, it turned his world upside down, but you are here with him and that's all he can ask for. You helped him, you saved him and his family, you loved him when he thought that love had died, you brought back color to a lifeless canvas.

You're his. And though he would never wish what he went through on his worst enemy, he can not imagine a world without you in it.

It's strange... that he had to lose someone in order to gain you.

With a heavy sigh, Toji smooths his hand to the back of your head and cradles it tenderly. His ivy hues regard you with love and understanding, face flat, eyes alight. He takes in your tears, your anguish, and he promises to suffer for it. To atone for what he's done to you without even trying.

He gets it. He does. For if the roles were reversed, hell, he'd feel the same way.

"Come inside, baby," he tells you gently. "I don't wanna have this talk with you out in the cold."

You tremble with fear, with looming heartbreak. "...Am I right for thinking that way?"

"No," he responds so easily, like he doesn't have to think about it. "But I - hell, I don't know. I should've known you'd feel some type of way about her eventually."

"Do you... still think about her?"

Toji purses his lips. "Yeah," he answers honestly. "Every day. But not in the way you're thinkin'."

Your stare up at him with such emotion, so fragile that you may break down at any moment as his other hand rests on your cheek.

"Losin' someone like that... shit, it sticks with you. It does. I won't lie to you about that. And you know it. You saw how I was, and... I guess... I'm sorry you had to deal with all that so early on."

"You don't have to apologize for mourning her, Toji. I'm saying I know-"

"You don't. Not really, or else we wouldn't be havin' this conversation," he says, and you clamp your mouth shut and let him go on. "My grief shoulda never made you feel like I wanted you to be her. She's the mother of my kid, (Y/n). We were married and she died. She ain't just gonna go away, but I've grieved her long enough to know that I love you. How I feel about you doesn't have anything to do with her. It's about you and me. And I wouldn't ever disrespect either of you by tryin' to turn you into someone who ain't even here. Hell, if I was lookin at you to be her, we wouldn't be together. You get what I'm saying?"

You nod solemnly, slowly. "I do."

"Do ya?" he cranes his head forward. "I love you. You hear me? I love you so much it fuckin' hurts. If I lost ya, I'd lose my mind. You get that right?" you nod again, but Toji isn't convinced. "Nah, I wanna hear you say it."

"Toji-"

"Come on. Say it."

Your nose flares as you melt. "You love me," you give in.

"So much it hurts."

"...So much it hurts," you finish shakily. "I love you too. I love you so much. I just don't want you to be unhappy. I know losing her really hurt you and I don't know what I'd do with myself if you were still just suffering."

"Grief ain't a straight line, doll. You know this. That doesn't mean a thing about how I feel about you."

You pause. "...Toji?"

"Yeah," he answers mindlessly as he looks over your face.

"Are you still in love with her?"

Toji stills. "(Y/n)," he starts. "She's dead. The love I have for her is somewhere floating around. It's different. It's the past. You're my present, and I love you."

"But if she were still here..."

"I don't wanna think about if she was still here. That ain't the life I'm living right now. I wouldn't have you, and it just - gets too fuckin' weird and complicated to even think about. So quit it. Y're shitting all over the good we have now, and even she wouldn't go for that."

You can't even be mad at his responses, for they're so Toji, so unapologetically full of truth that you remember he would never hide from you. This is your boyfriend, the man who completely changed to be with you. The man who swears to love you, to protect you, to hold you close until the day he dies. The man who promises you as a new parent for his kids, who welcome you with open arms - not despite the past, but because of it.

And the woman who gave Toji his last name still lingers, but in that spiritual, guarding way. She sheds the house in light, now able to rest knowing that you are there to look after everyone.

You've been a fool, acting like this, reliving grievances that the family has long come to terms with. Now that you've expressed yourself, now that the thoughts have left your lips, you can see that love swirling once more in Toji's eyes. You don't know how you had chosen not to see it for so long.

The feelings, however, won't just go away, even with this assurance.

You huff with an incoming cry and bury your face in your hands, overwhelmed, vulnerable, overstimulated.

Toji does not have to think before gathering you up in his arms, wrapping you tight, settling his chin atop your head and staring forward as you cry into his chest, humiliated, relieved, overcome by it all.

He presses his lips firm to your head with a promise. "It's you and only you," he mutters as you tremble.

And hopefully it's enough, enough for you to believe, to carry with you as truth and nothing less. For that's all Toji has for you. Truth, love, and his very life.

He's lost someone before. He won't let it happen again.

Not with you. Not ever.

"Come back inside, doll."

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna grilling everyone on campus—from RAs to terrified freshmen—until he finds out your major and what classes you like, typing every detail into the Notes app like a total stalker.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna digging up your socials in one night, scouring your TikTok likes to see what kind of guys you’re into. When he finds a video of some guy who is his total opposite, he lets out a pathetic, guttural groan and buries his face in his pillow.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna liking every single one of your posts, praying you’ll notice his pathetic efforts and follow him back. When you don't, he just ends up getting blackout drunk with Toji again.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna trying a new approach by kissing up to your friends to get any scrap of info on you. He grumbles under his breath—mentally sulking like a kicked puppy—when you spot his desperate attempts and shoo him away. He drops his head and slinks off, feeling like a beaten dog.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna refusing to give up, finally changing his entire class schedule just so he can sit next to you. Now, he gets to stare at you every single day.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna haunting you twelve hours a day. He’s in the library, the dining hall, outside your dorm. He notices your eye twitching, the way you keep looking over your shoulder, growing more and more paranoid. But he can’t stop. He’s fucking obsessed.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna sitting in his room at night, jerking off to your photos. His hand tightens around his cock to the rhythm of his ragged breathing, his lips silently forming your name, terrified to actually say it out loud.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna overhauling his wardrobe to match the aesthetic of the guys you post on TikTok, desperate for a shred of your attention.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna refusing to quit. At the next party, he approaches you again, fully expecting to get shut down. He cracks a stupid, nervous joke, and then—you smile. His heart skips a beat, and he breaks into an idiotic, lovesick grin.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna feeling his jeans grow painfully tight when you casually take a drag of his cigarette, your lips brushing against his fingers.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna blushing to the tips of his ears when you’re wasted and press into him for warmth by the bonfire. He’s too scared to even put an arm around you, so he just stands there, stiff as a board, inhaling the scent of your hair and praying this moment lasts forever.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna trying to play the gentleman while walking you to your dorm. He keeps his hand on your waist, but his fingers are burning with the urge to slip lower, to the panties he’s dying to pull off. He holds back because you’re drunk, and he wants you to remember him as something more than just another horny prick.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna falling asleep with a massive, dopey smile on his face after seeing that you finally followed him back on everything.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna getting off to your simple text, "You were sweet," his cock throbbing in his hand as he texts back, "Did you like it?" When you send a drunk voice note whining about how much you love it when he acts like a pathetic simp for you, he cums so hard his body jerks off the bed.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna stalking you across campus the next day. When you finally reach out and touch his shoulder, he craves nothing more than for you to never let go.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna becoming your personal pack mule, carrying your books, waiting outside every single one of your classes to walk you home. You smile at him, and his entire world starts and ends with you.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna barely holding it together when you send him spicy photos. His hand goes straight to his pants, but he forces himself to reply with something witty, even though his skin is crawling with the need to rip your clothes off and pin you to the wall.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna sending you a video of him jerking off and whining for you when you ask for proof. When you reply with a photo of your dripping pussy, he drowns his phone screen in his own cum.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna refusing to leave your side at the next frat party. His eyes are practically begging you to stay when you mention wanting to talk to your friends. (His bros roast him for it. He couldn't care less.)

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna feeling his heart soar when you lean into his ear and whisper that you want to fuck. His breath hitches and his hands shake with pure anticipation as he drags you to his room, already picturing you beneath him.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna waiting for your permission, hovering over you, tugging at the hem of your shirt. He’s breathing hard, inhaling your scent, terrified of messing up. The second you nod, he’s tearing your clothes off.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna worshipping your pussy, licking you with pure, feral reverence. His cock is so hard he’s ready to blow his load just from the sound of your first moan.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna damn near coming the second he slides inside you. His eyes roll back, his hips moving on instinct. He hears your scream, and it drives him faster, deeper, his nails digging into your back.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna begging you to let him go faster, his voice cracking as you scratch his back in time with his rough thrusts. He’s pounding into you so hard the bed frame is practically screaming against the wall.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna bending you over, lips pressed against your ear as he whines about how long he’s wanted you, how he’s obsessed over you every single night. His voice trembles as he asks if he’s doing it right, if you like the way he’s fucking you, scared to death that you’ll tell him to stop.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna letting out a quiet, wrecked moan when you squeeze his cock too tight, his hips bucking into your hands, desperate for release.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna finishing with a loud, guttural groan, spilling himself deep inside you. He watches you, broken and satisfied, before collapsing on top of you, gasping for air.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna holding you tight afterward, arms wrapped around you so you can’t leave. He pretends to be asleep, terrified that if he opens his eyes, you’ll have disappeared.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna grinning like the biggest simp on earth when you kiss him in the morning, leaving your panties on his pillow with a promise that you’ll do it again. He grabs your hips, begging you not to go, his eyes shining with pure, unadulterated hope.

Pathetic frat-boy!Sukuna, who is obviously going to ask you on a date tomorrow and spend the entire time begging you to let him bury his face back between your thighs and lick your dripping pussy until you’re coming all over his face.

firefly; i was cracking myself up just writing this, sukuna probably:

Slowly, like he thinks you can’t understand anything when it’s said at a normal pace, he answers, “I didn’t say that. You’re acting fucking crazy, woman. Look, I’m going out to the bar, with my friends, and that’s that. You can do all the shit you wanted to do on your own.”

He’s walking to the door now, grabbing a jacket on the way. Stomping over to him, you get in the way, blocking his exit with a furious glare. There’s no way this conversation’s ending like this, with him deciding it’s the end, with him getting what he wants and your feelings being trampled all over because he’d rather drink himself to death than cuddle on the sofa with you.

“No.”

“No?”

“Yeah, I said, ‘no.’ You’re not going. We have to talk about this.” Toji opens his mouth, disbelieving and growing more irritated with every syllable you utter, and you know he’s going to ask what the fuck you mean about ‘this,’ so you get the words out before he does, “This. Us. Our night. Our home. Why don’t you want to be with me?”

Rolling his eyes, he bulldozes past you, pushing you to the side. You don’t let him. You’re tugging on his jacket, nails digging into the thick material. He can’t go. What if he never comes back?

The words that have been thrown around tonight are sharp edged swords, though they don’t dig deep, they weave several shallow cuts that sting. No ambulance to rush you away, no hospital to take you, no surgeon to sew you back up. You just bleed out, alive and wobbling away. 

Clearly beyond done, Toji grunts, easily shrugging off your pathetic attempts to hold him back. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about and I don’t want to hear it right now. Just get out of the way.”

“No, answer me.”

Pitiful fists smack into his chest in a flurry. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t even flinch. You want to make him hurt. That ache inside your chest, the one that’s holding onto the tears that threaten to stream down your face, that’s driving you insane – you want him to feel it. You want him to care.

Toji doesn’t relent. Instead, he stands there, an immovable statue sculpted by someone else, and pinches his nose. “Just stop.”

“No. Why are you always leaving? Huh? Why can’t you just stay? What’s so fucking wrong with me that you don’t want to have dinner and watch a movie with your girlfriend?”

“Because you’re suffocating me!” He bellows. 

You stumble back.

“I can’t fucking breathe. God, I can’t even think without you nagging me. ‘Let’s get dinner,’ ‘let’s go to a museum,’ ‘let’s wear matching shirts.’ It’s never enough for you. For fuck’s sakes, I just want to be able to put my feet up, drink beer and not have to cater to every fucking whim of yours like I’m some goddamn dog.” Combing a hand through his hair, he breathes through his nose. He’s losing steam – you can see it in the way his shoulders fall and he shakes his head, slowly, weary and fatigued. Then, with a quieter, gentler, more desperate tone, he asks, “I see you everyday and you still want more? You ain’t tired of this shit? Of all the fake coupley shit that you think we have to do otherwise we’re frauds? You haven’t had enough? ‘Cause I’m growing pretty fucking sick of all the bullshit.”

Speechless, you just keep as still as you can, feeling mighty small under the weight of his words. You’ve never seen Toji like this. Usually he’s passive, allowing you to ramble on and on about whatever’s filling your mind, even when you’re mad at him, when he’s heard your story a million times before, and even in your worst moment when you bait him into chasing after you. Through it all, your boyfriend took your insecurities and flaws like a champ. 

Now he’s done. Now he’s been backed into a corner and there’s nowhere else for him to go except past you. 

It’s unclear to you what expression you wear on your face; you can really only focus on that hollow sinkhole widening in your heart. Something about your eyes makes his close tight. Toji breathes once, twice, and says, “We’ll talk later. I’m late.”

And then he leaves. 

His jacket is dangling from your clutches and it’s suddenly so heavy. Tears threaten to fall. You don’t let them, even when your bottom lip wobbles and so does your balance. Heaving, you lean against the wall.

How did it all fall apart so quickly?

The day had started off like normal: sweaty, dirty sex, pillowtalk, late breakfast, lazy lounging around the living room, and catching each other up on what’s happening on your phones. Weekdays are more productive, what with you both having jobs to do, but weekends are yours and his to share. Or at least that’s what you thought. 

An eerie silence falls upon the apartment. It’s unlike the silences you’re used to, like being the last one to leave the house and you’re eating the breakfast Toji made for you, or waiting for him to come back from throwing the bins out, being the first to come home, sitting in bed doing your own thing as you slowly unwind from the day’s toils.

You can’t stand it – the doing nothing – so you shuffle away from the closed door that’s not going to open anytime soon. There’s a lot to tidy anyway: the plates of food untouched, the unfolded blanket you wanted to be cuddled under, face masks and snacks and dips, and the pile of clothes he probably wasn’t going to wear even if you begged. 

Maybe you are too much. 

Maybe what Toji was saying had some merit to it. 

All those outings he would have never done if you hadn’t pleaded with a huge smile and puppy dog eyes were planned by you. The dinners reserved by you, the anniversaries, the dates, all of it. You. It wasn’t as if he didn’t love you. The fact that he did all of it, albeit begrudgingly, was proof of that. His love showed in his gentle touch, his patience, though limited, and in the fact that, through the ups and downs, he still stayed. 

But he won’t forever, not when he feels…suffocated. 

With a sigh, you grab your phone, snatch his jacket and decide you’re not going to let him be out there, cold and angry. 

So you, too, leave.

.

.

.

“Go home, Fushiguro.”

That isn’t what Toji wants to hear from his friend slash handler, Shiu. Truthfully, he wanted to be validated, wanted the man to tell him you were acting crazy, and that he wasn’t wrong for walking out. 

As he stomped into the bustling bar, the suited man took one look at him, shook his head with an exhausted laugh and took a huge gulp of his whiskey, knowing damn well it was going to be a long night. It always is when the scarred man looks ready to kill and for free.

Toji takes a swig of his beer. “You didn’t hear a single shit I said? I said, ‘I'm not in the mood to get into it with her again.’”

“Being a man is about learning to take the beatings life hands you,” Shiu professes mysteriously, tracing the rim of his glass. 

“Fuck off.”

Sitting in the corner of the bar, they’re left alone to wallow in their problems – one man chronically alone and the other about to lose it all. They don’t remember how they found each other or why they stayed as friends when they barely like the other, but they suppose it’s really because through all the faces they’ve met, not many have ever stuck around. But they did. And that has to mean something. 

The bastard is rarely not right and he knows it. He prattles off great advice with a smug face and one has to fight the urge to lay a good one on his nose. No matter how fucked up shit gets, Shiu could always make things so simple, so clear, and straightforward that he’d feel like a dumb sack of shit. 

In fact, that’s pretty damn close to how he feels now. 

Wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, he admits, “I feel like shit. Like I got hit by a fucking truck. Look at me. I’m sitting here talking about my fucking feelings with your stupid ass. She’s always gotta get into my head about things. Made me a chump. Fucking hate this. Me. I turned into a pussy.”

“I don’t know about you, Fushiguro, but I like the you she created.” 

Toji snorts. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“You were a massive asshole,” Shiu begins, using a tone that suggests it should be obvious to the man sitting opposite him. “You were angry all the time, moody and brooding for no reason. Hours could pass and you wouldn’t say a single word. Ha, a college kid bumped into you and you knocked his shit before he could even open his mouth to apologise. Made him piss his damn pants. Got everyone scared of your big ass.”

He couldn’t deny that. Their friends, if you could call them that, often joked that he was a monster. And yeah, well, moving place to place, house to house, couch to couch would make a monster out of anyone. Before, these kinda criticisms would have rolled off his back, maybe even brought a smirk to his scarred lips, but something about the person he is now makes that sudden blast from the past bring a grimace to his face.

Shiu chuckles and, with a clink of his glass to Toji’s, says, “Look at you now – you actually shower and smell less like horse shit these days. Sure, you’re still killing for a living but you don’t do that shit with a smile on your face like a psycho now. Hell, you even tip. You used to steal tips, remember? And then just last month, some pimply-faced kid fell onto our table and spilled our drinks and I, honest to God, thought you’d beat him black and blue –instead, what did you do? Huh? Tell me. What did you do?”

“Fuck you.”

“You fucking picked him back up and told him, ‘Get some water in ya, the girl you came with likes you so don’t embarrass yourself.’” He throws his head back and laughs as if he just heard the funniest joke come out of his own mouth. “And don’t try to argue with me. You know she’s cleaned you up, made an honest man out of you, or as honest as a killer-for-hire can be. You smile more, Fushiguro. Fucking cheesing at your damn phone, leaving the bar early, speeding to get the fuck home before she does just so you can do God know’s what – and don’t say, I’d rather not know.”

The changes he talks about, Toji hadn’t noticed. Of course, he knew life had changed for him. A steady, secure home with a woman that sees him and is happy with what fills her vision, a woman who doesn’t mind hearing grunts as replies, who’s patient and kind, that cleans up the blood off his shirts and does it all with a smile. There's stability in his life now. Something that gets him up in the morning other than hunger and a need to piss. A thing to look forward to, a home to come back to. 

"Honestly, I don't know why you'd rather be here with me than her. If I had a woman half as good as her, you'd never see my sorry face. Any more of these nights with you and people will think we're lovers, which is fine by me, just as long as they know I'm on top."

A bead of condensation drips down the neck of his beer bottle. The bar’s too loud, too crowded and it doesn’t smell sweet and floral like home. Everyone’s too drunk to give a shit about what’s happening outside, far too elated with the clumsy grinding and grimy sweating of bodies. Maybe that’s why he likes places like this so much; it’s easy to forget your responsibilities, your past, and all the things that drag you down. 

But that’s not you. You’re not a burden, you’re a part of his present, and the only thing that keeps him going. 

So why didn’t he act like it?

You looked so damn excited to watch that movie with him and he crushed that spark that makes you you under his boot, for what? For booze? For some time alone with an asshole wearing a tailored suit and tie in a dingy bar?

The words he spewed at you come crashing back like a tidal wave of regret and shame. He told you you were suffocating him. He told a bunch of lies, anything to get you off his back, to make his need for alcohol justified. Like. A. Fucking. Pussy. 

Glancing at his phone, he sees missed calls and a voicemail. From you. So does Shiu, who whistles and suggests, “You’re done for, my man.”

“Fuck.” Toji throws his head back. He fucked up. Big time. Running a hand down his face, he says, “I need to go. I need to get home, catch her before she fucking leaves me or some shit. Ah, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

A couple papers get thrown on the table, along with whatever loose change he has in his pockets, and he lunges out of the bar faster than if there was a fire, though not before he sees, in the corner of his eyes, a familiar looking smug tilt of a brow on a suited prick. 

He’s driving home now, fingers thrumming on the wheel, a subconscious desperation to manifest the ability to push the car beyond its limits and get to its destination faster. The useless piece of shit isn’t going fast enough; every second he wastes getting home when he should have been there to begin with is a second closer to him losing everything he never deserved to have in the first place. 

Images of you crying, hugging yourself and waiting by the door, or sleeping, alone, in an empty bed flash in his mind and without realising it, he’s accelerating even more. The roads are empty this time of night and he thanks the universe; the last thing he needs is to be honked at. 

Why couldn’t he just suck it up?

Movie nights are a lot of work – he often has to drive down to the store and get all the snacks your heart desires, squeeze into the cheesy pyjamas you bought him, let you spread some goo on his face, and then sit through some chick flick that he grumbles about at the start but gets really into once ten or twenty minutes has passed. All the dates that required him to get off his ass sent dread settling in his stomach usually turn out more fun than he thought. Because you know him. Because you know his strengths and weaknesses, his sore points and intolerances. And love him because of them. 

Having half a mind to listen to the voicemail you sent, Toji thinks about what he wouldn’t want to hear. What he can’t. The argument was bad, yes, he admits. But it’s not bad enough to quit, to end the beautiful thing you’ve grown, to give up. There’s no life after you, without you. It’s just you. You’re his…everything. And when he gets home, he’ll take you into his arms, apologise for all the shit he said and will say, and watch that movie with you. Hell, he’ll watch it a million times. 

Toji will do anything to make it up to you.

Maybe he should take you to the sea. That’d be a nice break from the chaos of the city. You two can go fishing, take long walks down the beach like women love to do, and do that thing he watched in a movie, where he carries you into the water, laughing and giggling. 

And what about the ring he’s been meaning to buy?

Flashing lights catch his attention. A fuckload of police cars and ambulances off the side of the road. Toji’s brows furrow. “Fuck happened there?”

Palm sweaty, he fishes his phone out. That voicemail he’s been ignoring, pretending it doesn’t exist because if it’s anything other than an ‘I love you, let’s not break up,’ he might just throw his phone out the car. He runs a hand through his hair and presses play, only hesitating twice. A second of static silence reaches his ears before your voice does. 

“Hey, Toji…I, um, don’t know if you want to hear from me right now."

Your voice has the corner of his scarred lip twitching. It's the tender and gentle voice he knows, and not the scratchy half-screams he last heard. The latter never suited you. It's just not who you are and deserve to be.

"But uh…I wanted to say sorry…You’re right, I was a lot today, like usual….And I’m sorry. About the movie that you didn’t want to watch, t-the face masks and the food I didn’t even ask if you wanted to eat. God, I’m so fucking sorry, Toji...I was too much, wasn’t I?”

He shakes his head. There’s a creeping sudden tension rising up his spine and he tightens his hold on the wheel, slowing down for show so the uniformed men don’t give him shit, and as soon as the red and blues of the night disappear from his rearview mirror, he revs up. 

“I think it’s ‘cause there’s so much I want to do with you, y’know? Like, you’ve lived a whole life before me and it’s a little intimidating….You’ve loved before…and it’s beautiful…but you’re my first and I’m not trying to compete with her or anything, I swear! I just want to make our own memories, y’know? I want experiences too. And when you’re quiet, less active, less…present, I guess it triggers something in me: a need to compensate. Maybe one could even say I’m overcompensating and they wouldn’t be wrong, I guess.”

When he pulls up, his feet carry him out and into the building on autopilot, gravel crunching under his shoes and the weight of the world bearing down on his shoulders. There’s no one else around. The lights of every window are off. It’s too quiet. Toji scratches his chest. 

“I don’t know where I’m going with this; you know I ramble when I’m nervous. Maybe I should just go to sleep and wait for you, fight through that feeling I’m getting that says I won’t see you ever again after this. I should sleep everything off…but I couldn’t let our night go like this. You have that mission tomorrow and you’re going to be gone for a couple days so I guess I just wanted to cram some time together…”

The door’s unlocked. He flexes his hand, knuckles turning white with the tight clench of his fist. Somehow, his work schedule had eluded him; it was you who kept up with all that admin shit that Shiu never bothers to remind him about, after all. 

“I should have known it’d be too much. I mean, you’re right that we see each other every day – that was hyperbole, of course...I think anyway...but it’s practically true. We see each other a lot…but I don’t know…I guess I just thought it wasn’t enough.

Your voice grows quiet and he has to lift the speaker of his phone to his ear to hear your next words over the sound of his heart pounding. 

“To me, I could never see too much of you. I always want to see you. To be with you. And…you don’t feel the same…”

Something painful scrunches in his chest, it almost makes him double over. Under his breath, he mutters, “No, baby. I do. Fuck, I do.”

“And that’s okay. I’m realising now that that’s probably healthy. I think I just love you too much. More than you love me – that’s not a complaint at all, I promise. It’s not a reflection of you but rather of me….God, I’m crazy, aren’t I? I never know when to shut up and wow, even now I’m saying ‘I’ a lot. Okay, so yeah, I have problems and I need to work on them.”

You’re not in the living room. The TV is off. And what was that about him loving you less? That’s bullshit. Complete and utter bullshit. You know that. You have to. Right?

Making a mental note to make that the first thing you hear, he continues his search. 

“Ma? Where you at?” He checks the kitchen and finds containers of the food you prepared put neatly away. It’s his favourite. His stomach rumbles. “You sleeping, doll?”

The bedroom’s empty too. Fuck.

“I’ll work on it, Toji…so, please, will you give me a chance? To do better. To be better.”

He’s checked every room. Twice. And again. You’re not home. But that can’t be right. You have to be home. You just have to. It’s dark outside and cold and dangerous and he’s not there to hold your hands to make sure they don’t fall off from the frost of summer. 

Louder, nearing a scream, he says, “Baby, I’m not messing around. Tell me where you are. You hiding? Is that it? You hiding from me? Fuck, sweetheart, I promise I’m not mad, okay? So just come out here. L-let me see my gorgeous girl, yeah?”

Breathing faster and faster until he has to lean against the wall for balance, Toji scrambles to think. You’re saying so much so fast and he can’t keep up. For every sentence you utter there’s a whole conversation to be had. So many inaccuracies he needs to correct, to set straight. Where the hell did you even get all this shit you’re saying?

Not from him, right?

He didn’t make you feel so small, did he?

The woman that had built him up crumbling all by herself because he’d rather drink himself to death than live a life you made possible for him. Fucking bastard. Ungrateful son of a bitch. Useless fucker.

“Uh this is getting long, sorry. We can talk more about it when I see you. So, yeah, that’s what I was trying to say. I’m driving over to the bar to give you your jacket. You forgot it. Or maybe you left it on purpose. I don’t know. I just don’t want you to be cold. Or maybe it’s just an excuse to see you, hopefully smiling...You don’t smile without a bottle in your hand nowadays but if I had a clingy girlfriend, I’d probably be making out with beer too. I’m kidding. Sorry, that’s not funny…okay, so, um, I love you and I’ll see you soon. Bye.”

Flashing lights, 

Cop cars. 

Ambulances. 

The crowd…gasping and pointing.

And a flipped over car he only now just processed. 

The ride over to the crime scene goes by in a blur. Only static and the faint sound of your voice on repeat playing in the background. Every stop light is ignored, pedestrians barely avoided, and the wheels pushed to their very limits. All while he foregoes wearing a seatbelt.

Toji doesn’t breathe. Doesn’t think or slow down or answer the many calls from unknown numbers. 

He doesn’t even make a sound.

Not until he arrives, shoves past tiny men with their tiny understanding of who you are and what you mean to him, and finds a body wrapped up in a bag. Rushing of blood fill his ears. People try to hold him back, to get him away, but there must be something in his face or his eyes that warns, ‘don't get in my fucking way’

It’s akin to a wounded yelp of a wild beast or the guttural flames of hell as it opens up and consumes whole poor, unfortunate souls. No one’s ever heard anything like it. Yet, they know. Just from the way he had fallen to his knees, had rushed to yank that zipper down but hesitated to pull the bag open. But the sound…the sound tells a whole story. 

Some look away, half paying respect and half all too familiar with the scene. Others can’t. They bear witness to the shaking hands that cradle your cold face, cut up and bleeding, and the one sided conversation. 

“No, no, baby, what h-happened? Wake up.” Toji’s patting your cheeks, searching for a flicker of your lashes or the rise of your chest. Even now when he feels the nauseating coldness on a body that had only ever kept him warm he's mindful of the force he's using. He could never hurt you. Not like this. “Come on, this isn’t fucking funny. Open your eyes, baby. Come on. Please.”

Shallow cuts on your face, glass shards still embedded in the skin graze his thumb as he brushes the hair from your hair. They cut him too until the blood staining the skin he’d felt and tasted are both his and yours. 

“I need you. I need to talk to you. Fuck, it isn’t fucking fair. You got to say your shit. You need to hear me apologise ‘cause I am fucking sorry. You hear me, you stubborn woman? I’m s-sorry. So wake the fuck up. Please. I can’t do this without you. I just can’t.”

The car’s totalled. Hit a tree. He can hear the police talk on their radio, something about how you were crushed for hours, alive and yelling for help, but was dead when anyone got to the scene. A roaring of injustice wages war in his very soul. His babygirl in pain and alone and dying. Did you call out for his name? Did you think he was going to come even till your last moments? 

He doesn't know how long he holds you for, can't even tell if it's raining or if he's just sweaty as hell. Those trembling hands of his, that have killed countless men and got him this far in life, seem so useless now as he wills warmth into your limbs. Your pyjamas are soaked with a metallic liquid; they stain his hands.

A familiar face shows up, suit wrinkled. “Fushiguro. They need the body.”

Firm hands pull at him, tugging him away. He won’t let go. Can’t let you be all by yourself. Look at you. You’re not even wearing a jacket. Silly girl. You’d bring his but not your own? 

Do you always have to be so goddamn perfect?

Pressing a kiss to your forehead, he says, “Let’s go home, yeah? Let’s go home and watch that movie. That sound good, doll?”

But you don’t answer. 

Not his prayers the next day or his pleadings the week after and certainly not your phone every day since.

Toji never touches another bottle again if only because when he does his mind gets so blurry, so fucked out, he can’t envision the exact angles of your smile or how many wrinkles form at the corner of your eyes. Honestly, if he could, he'd never return to that place you two lived in; it's far too big now and everywhere he looks he sees you. But where else would he go? Where else in this fucked world could he go to find you?

He doesn’t eat either – no one’s cooking tastes the same as yours. They lack something he thinks he might never find again. And maybe that’s fine. It was always too good for him anyway.

None of the people that show up to his door are allowed in; they’d just disturb the air you touched. Not his friends or yours, he has no family and yours don’t really want to see him. Good thing too. He can’t deal with the pity or the attempts to relieve him of his responsibility. 

‘It’s not your fault,’ they say. ‘It was an accident.’

Shit doesn’t matter. Nothing does. How could anything mean shit to a man who only wants to spend his days in bed, holding your pillow over his face, simultaneously wanting to consume every particle of your scent and suffocate on memories of a life he barely lived?

They say he shouldn't let your death define you but how would that even be possible? You've always defined him. There's only the Toji before you, during you, and without you. He thinks maybe his life will forever be defined by all the things he never should have said and the things he wishes he did. That's the real tragedy.

'You need to move on.'

Bullshit. All those grief counselling pamphlets and self-help books don't know shit. There's no moving on. There's only you.

The worst, perhaps, that he’s heard is, ‘she’d hate to see you like this.’

Because what the fuck do they know about you? 

Those assholes see a man locked away, beard growing in, dark circles under his eyes, and an air of death about him. Whereas Toji sees himself as someone who’s keeping your memory alive. Because, contrary to what you believed, you weren’t too much. God, you couldn't ever be too much. With your scent fading, your clothes collecting dust and the divot in your spot on the sofa evening out, he thinks he hasn’t had enough. Could never have enough.

Even the fact that when he closes his eyes he sees you serves as no consolation. It’s not enough. He wasn’t enough. Wasn’t man enough. Didn’t love you enough. Toji needs to touch you, to feel you, to make up for all that he never gave you when he should have. Wherever you are, he wants to be.

His girl all alone? No, he can’t have that. Someone needs to listen to you ramble, to lift heavy things for you and hold you the way you like when you sleep. Who's keeping you company up there? Who's drawing on your palm when you get nervous? Who is telling you you've always been enough?

Someone needs to be there for you.

Staring at a picture of you on his bedside table, he smiles softly.

“I’m coming, baby. Just wait for me, yeah?”

He shouldn’t have been so harsh, he realizes that now. Breakfast had been burnt to a crisp and ruined, sure, but nothing could compare to how he constantly ruins the one beautiful thing that has ever happened to him, who haphazardly spilled her smoothie on him when they first bumped into each other in Shinjuku just after he finally cashed in enough money with Shiu to get his laundry done.

Toji, whose senses have now been honed to pick up on the slightest of your sluggish movements and your pained and suppressed hisses, hears the bedsheets rustling and he instantly gets up before you could even force yourself out of bed. “Hey, hey, easy now.” He catches you before you could fall backwards onto the mattress, your skin appears cold and clammy, your thinning muscles stiff as a board — you must be having one of your episodes again. “What do you need?” he asks, his voice heartbreakingly gentle for the first time in months.

“Water.”

Your husband nods, swinging his feet over the edge of the bed, hurriedly making his way to the dining table which was now kept in your bedroom so you aren’t forced to move around too much. The sound of water splashing into the glass fills the air and you feel another stabbing pain coarse through your joints.

Toji gingerly brings the glass of water to your lips and you sighed, an exasperated yet amused smile on your face. “I can do it, babe. Don’t worry.” Why did that sound like you were trying to convince not just Toji but yourself? You bring your bony hands to grip the glass and it takes everything out of your husband not to break into a fit of sobs when he sees your hand violently shaking with effort just to keep the glass steady.

His larger hands close around your defeated one. “I-I…I can do it, I did it yesterday. Y-you saw me.”

“Shhh, I know, it’s okay.”

You bite your lip to distract yourself from the anguish of realizing the truth behind the doctor’s words. Everything you feared was finally becoming your and Toji’s bleak reality.

“It’ll be a painful decline.”

Funny how you’re the one fighting to extend your life but Toji feels like he’s already gone ahead and passed on. Just a few minutes earlier, you were overjoyed to see him again. You didn’t think he’d see your text thinking that his new girlfriend must have asked him to block your number, and you most certainly didn’t expect him to arrive when you asked for him via a brief phone call to drive you to the hospital for your monthly checkup since he took the car with him when you separated. He made up a bullshit excuse when Yuko asked where he was going in such a hurry and he makes it to your old shared apartment to see you sitting on the driveway looking thinner and sicklier than ever — your eyes were sunken, and your cheeks were hollow.

Yet in spite of that, you gave him the brightest of smiles, waving shyly to him as he steps out of the driver’s seat. “Happy morning!” you smiled, greeting him with your signature good morning tagline which he used to happily wake up to everyday. There wasn’t a scintilla of resentfulness in your demeanor, and you genuinely looked so happy to see him for the first time since he moved out.

“How long?” Toji asked the doctor, his heart twisted into knots when he hears you happily humming in the MRI room as you put your clothes back on, oblivious to the solemn mood in the other room. You already knew what was going on, but you’ll just continue pretending that everything’s alright and that this is nothing more but a case of fatigue so as not to inconvenience Toji.

“A year, maybe even less.”

“And…you’re saying it’s best if she simply…doesn’t get the treatment?”

The doctor sighs heavily. She’s seen many cases like this before, but none as utterly hopeless as yours. Even if you did start the treatment, the lesions in your spinal cord have already entered the most severe stage, you were already exhibiting signs of autonomic nervous system distress — the tremors, the uncontrollable stuttering of your words, the growing loss of balance — and as if that wasn’t enough, the doctor also discovers that you were suffering from primary osteosarcoma.

There was no way to cure you now that it’s too late.

“I suggest we just focus on keeping her comfortable. The only thing left for us to do now is to bring her home. I’m so sorry.”

“You’re so fucking embarrassing. I can’t bring you anywhere.”

By some miracle, you and Toji went out one night around four months before the divorce proceedings. He went home that day, exhausted beyond all belief from another mission, but he was in a good mood. Yuko was out working late tonight, so, he decides to take you out to your and his favorite izakaya for some yakitori.

Some time during the night, after downing three full bottles of sake together, you excuse yourself to use the restroom. “I’ll be right back,” you told Toji, tipsily kissing him on the cheek as you hop off the bar stool in the direction of the women’s room.

You couldn’t tell if you were staggering from the copious amounts of alcohol you ingested, but your legs were beginning to feel heavy, and for some ominous reason, you were slowly losing all sensation in your left leg. You try to hold onto one of the izakaya’s shōji panel decor pieces to regain your balance, but it was a futile effort in the end. Your knees suddenly buckle, and a sickening crack tears through your tibia as you fall to the ground.

“Are you alright?!”

Toji picks up on the commotion instantly and he sees the izakaya patrons crowding around the hallway leading to the restroom. He quickly makes his way over and a look of disgust appears on his features when he sees you crumpled on the ground and the mortifying sight of you having relieved yourself on the floor, tears of embarrassment staining your cheeks at the thought of your body suddenly malfunctioning like this.

Muttering out an ignorant apology for his seemingly drunk wife, he roughly picks you up, growing increasingly infuriated with you when one izakaya employee offers him a damp cloth to dry out your urine with. It was funny how quickly other people came to your aid — people whose names you don’t even know — while your own husband seems very reluctant to even touch you right now. He doesn’t speak to you on the way home even as you apologize while he’s loading you into the car, grimacing when the leather seat gets wet. “Toji, I-I’m sorry, I don’t know what happened—“

“—Save it.”

What he should have said was: “Are you okay?”, “It’s alright.” or better yet, “I still love you.”.

At present, Toji decides on a whim to take you to Yokohama’s famed bayside today. It’s only a two hour drive from your place in Tokyo and Toji figures you must miss going on road trips by now with you cooped up at home all the time. “Toji, are you sure this is a good idea?” you murmured nervously as the car pulls to a stop by the bayside promenade. What happens if you can’t control yourself again? There doesn’t look to be a lot of public restrooms nearby.

Toji plants a reassuring kiss to your nose. “Babe, you remember what the doctor said, spending some time outdoors can do wonders for your health. Besides, didn’t you always love the coast?” He brings your hand to his scarred lips, rubbing his thumb against the soft skin before stepping out of the car to retrieve your wheelchair from the trunk.

“I know but what if I have another accident?” you said worriedly, rolling down the car windows so he could hear you. “What if I embarrass you again?”

“There’s nothing embarrassing about you.”

You’ve lost all control of your lower extremities three months ago, rendering you unable to walk and feel when you need to relieve yourself. Toji struggles with the wheelchair for a bit and a flash of sadness fills your heart when you see him take a few deep breaths to calm himself down. He wasn’t angry, he was devastated. He looks wistfully at the boardwalk, a distant gaze trained on the sea. He remembers when you used to walk down this very lane, his hand protectively around your waist as you happily take selfies. He could still hear your fond giggles the last time the two of you went here.

“Why don’t you ever smile when I take pictures of you?”

Toji shoos away a pigeon from stealing a bite of his ice cream sandwich. He feigns an unamused look when you try to take another picture of him on your phone.

“Come on, I’ve been trying to get a shot of you all day! You still have to take pictures of me so I can post it on my Instagram feed!”

Your ever moody husband pinches off a small piece of bread and feeds it to the nosy pigeon. “You and your precious feed,” he bemoans jokingly.

“Please? Just one picture!“ you playfully nudged him. Truthfully, you just wanted to see him smile for once, a genuine one and not one of those lopsided smirks he usually gives you when he’s teasing you. “Please?” you pout knowing he can never say no to that adorable face you make when you really want him to do something or worse, buy something for you.

Sighing, he turns to look at your phone’s camera lens and you blush when a smile slowly illuminates his usually stoic face. Your thumb hovers over the stop recording function, not realizing you’re taking a video, but you can’t seem to press it. “What’s taking so long?” he holds the smile like he’s some cartoon character and you snap out of it.

“Oh shoot, it’s a video!” you laughed, and you begin to run down the boardwalk, eagerly getting away from Toji who demands that you delete it immediately. Of course, you’re no match for his borderline inhuman speed attributed to his athletic physique and he catches you by the waist, playfully swinging you over his shoulder like you’re a sack of potatoes.

Now, your giggles have gone silent.

Toji realizes now he should have indulged you more over the course of your relationship and subsequent marriage. Had he known that you won’t even make it to your third wedding anniversary, he would have allowed you to take as many pictures and videos of him as you’d like, he’d swallow his pride and he’d give you the brightest of smiles so you could happily post him on your social media accounts with a heartwarming caption about him being your “smiley hubby”.

More than that though, he should have taken more photos of you, mostly stolen candid shots, of course. You can’t catch him being all soft on you now. He still has a reputation to live up to after all. But more than that, had he known that your illness was intent on stealing every scrap of you from him, he should have made more effort in preserving all these memories. He should have kept everything from those toll tickets on your late night drives together when the two of you just needed a quick escape from the world, to receipts from your trip to Tokyo Disney Sea on your first wedding anniversary, and even simple convenience store receipts.

Toji should have kept everything down to the smallest of memories knowing one day, that’s all he’ll have to remember you by.

He opens the passenger seat’s door and he effortlessly gathers you into his arms, being extra careful with your fragile form as he sits you down on the wheelchair. He opens the backseat and he pulls out two different colored blankets, one sea-foam green and the other, rose pink. “Take your pick,” he smiles at you and you chuckled softly, pointing to the rose pink one. He happily covers your legs with it to keep you warm, stroking your cheek when you whisper a bashful ‘thank you’.

Suddenly, the wind picks up and your hair-clip that’s holding your locks in a low bun comes loose, and your head turns in the direction of where it flew off to. Toji is quick to take out his phone and he snaps a quick burst shot of you, your hair blowing in the wind, under the coastal spring weather. You turn to look at him and your face falls when you see him burying his phone in his pocket. Since you fell ill, you’ve become insecure of your appearance, banning your husband from taking pictures and videos of you altogether. “Toji, I thought I said no pictures.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

The next day, you serendipitously find your photo on your Instagram handle with the caption: “Y/N — Yokohama, Spring, 2024” and when you swipe left, another picture, well to be more accurate, a screenshot of the video clip you accidentally took of him captioned: “Toji — Yokohama, Summer, 2022”.

“You don’t have to stick around for me. Please just go, I’m sure Yuko must be looking for you right now.”

Yuko, his new fiancé, had been blowing up his phone the entire day with texts demanding to know where he is and if he’s going to make it to their date that night. It’s 7 PM now, and Toji still hasn’t shown up to confirm their restaurant reservations. The damn witch will surely cuss him out when they see each other again, but for some reason, even if he tries, he simply cannot bring himself to give a flying fuck. Your immunologist and oncologist stepped out for a bit to allow you two a brief moment of privacy which had now stretched to an expanse of five hours since your results came in.

The air in the room is thick and heavy, not a single sound can be heard. Inside however, underneath this tough exterior he was projecting, Toji is throwing a fit, screaming at the sky like those broken men in those shitty Netflix romance tragedies he used to callously make fun of.

“Why didn’t you call me sooner? You knew, didn’t you?”

Toji’s bites his cheek trying to keep a lid on his emotions. He knows the answer. He just wants to hear you say it out loud. You hated him. You wanted nothing to do with him after he cheated on you with some girl he met at a bar in uptown Shibuya. That’s why you didn’t tell him, he didn’t deserve to know. “Shit,” he whispers harshly, crumpling the medical abstract in his hands. “Why didn’t you tell me you were sick? Was it because you hated me? Is that it? You didn’t think I’d worry about you?”

You screwed your eyes shut, shaking your head. You didn’t hate him, not even when you have every reason to. He abandoned you, left you to waste away and to die and yet, even now, you can’t bring yourself to resent him for the simple reason that he is the literal love of your life, the reason behind your smiles, your happy mornings and passionate midnight hours. “At first, I thought I was fine, maybe just fatigued or something.”

“Don’t lie. You knew something was going on and that something in your body was seriously fucked up.”

“And we weren’t married anymore so, I didn’t think it was right to tell you…I wanted to though, but I didn’t want to intrude on you and Yuko,” you said meekly. Even in your greatest hour of need, you were still thinking of him, putting him first even when he doesn’t deserve it. “I-I…I don’t hate you enough to worry you, to make you feel that you could have done something to prevent this. Because I’m telling you right now, regardless if you were faithful or not, I was bound to get sick anyway. You couldn’t have done anything to change that.”

“But I could have been there. I should have noticed. I shouldn’t have downplayed everything.” He says this as if he wants to shake this noble, self-sacrificing bullshit attitude out of your system. “I’m your husband. I should have been there.”

You flash him a heartbroken smile at his little slip-up, so, even now, he was still referring to himself as your husband, not your ex-husband. “To see me waste away? Babe, I don’t want you to see that.”

You begin to feel tears streaming down your face, the emotions you were experiencing now flowing like a free river after an entire dam is destroyed. Toji watches you unravel before his eyes and his bottom lip begins to tremble. What has he done? Dear god, what has he done to his poor, poor wife?

“I want you to remember me healthy, I want you to remember me as myself not this…sickly pitiful woman you’re unlucky to call your ex-wife…besides, after all this, I’ll only be a dream.” A mere passing second in his life. “And believe me, my life wasn’t so bad.”

He loses it at that.

“Just stop this, Y/N! Stop acting like you’re not scared shitless of dying, like you’re not gonna have regrets once all this is over! Stop pretending that things are gonna be alright one day because it won’t! Not when I’m now being forced to accept that you won’t get better, not when I’ve wasted so much time putting you through hell and back instead of taking care of you like a proper husband should, and certainly not when I’m suddenly supposed to learn to say goodbye and to live without you! Because fuck that, Y/N!”

You are left speechless at that.

Toji was never one to lose his cool, even during your worst arguments, he may slide a few snarky remarks here and there but Toji Fushiguro…never yells, and he doesn’t sob either.

You hesitantly stand up and walk over to him, crouching down in front of him as he covers his tear-stained eyes with his right hand while the other is crumpled around your medical abstract. Taking his left hand, you gently remove the medical abstract from his grip, and for the first time in so many months, you feel one another’s warm skin against each other. You press your forehead to his hand as you wept with him.

“I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you to be a dream. I want you to be real.”

“Can’t you be bothered to clean up in here?!”

You wake up from your nap, you’ve been battling muscle and joint pain the entire day, the slightest of movement causing you to double over in agony and because of that, you weren’t able to clean the apartment today. You slowly get up from the couch, being extra cautious not to make any sudden movements. “Well?” Toji presses, his lips curled into a scowl.

“I’m sorry, I was feeling a little tired,” you sighed heavily, picking up a broom to sweep the living room floor despite the excruciating pain you were in. Toji rolls his eyes, handing you a Manila envelope. “What’s this?” you asked softly, peering inside.

“Divorce papers,” he shrugs nonchalantly. Everything stops, even the very rise and fall of your chest halts into an uneasy stasis. “I already signed them. I just need your signature then, I’ll move out by tomorrow.”

You must be dreaming. That’s the only logical explanation to all this. You’re asleep, in a deep REM sleep, utterly oblivious to the world. This wasn’t happening. But you could feel the rough surface of the brown envelope, and you could still feel the agonizing stabs of white hot pain throughout your body. Glancing at Toji, you see him texting someone with an eager look on his face that screams: “I’m free.”.

Instantly, it dawns on you.

“Will she make you happy?” you asked, putting down the broom to look around for a pen but Toji pulls one he stole from the law firm office out of his pocket.

“She will,” he answers simply.

And you are indeed grateful that he is completely upfront about finding another while the two of you are married. It would have hurt much more, you silently remind yourself, if he had just upped and left without another word leaving you to wonder what went wrong between the two of you. This was Toji’s final act of mercy in your marriage, and he’s not opposed to honesty and truthfulness either. Not once did he try to change his phone’s lock-screen passcode, nor did he try to conceal the identity of the woman who was texting him every night while you slept fitfully next to him. It was almost as if he wanted you to find out, like he wanted you to know so you could back off yourself.

But if there’s one thing Toji loves about you, it’s your unending faithfulness to your promises, to your marriage vows, and your willingness to endure anything he threw at you. You never checked his phone, you never brought up his affair, you never got angry with him. You just kept silent, simply content with giving and giving…and giving while he milked you dry by taking, and taking and taking, tearing you to pieces bit by bit without hearing a single complaint fall from your lips.

You were a devoted wife, through and through.

And it bored the hell out of him, on top of your recent mishaps, he was done. Done with everything, and done with you.

“Okay.”

Come morning, he takes everything he owns with him and promptly proposes to the girl he’s been seeing for the past year. Two weeks later, your divorce is received by the Tokyo Family Court and is summarily approved and finalized. From that moment on, you and Toji went on your separate ways never to look back, you were each other’s yesterdays, and the love that existed between the two of you was nullified in favor of acquaintanceship…or so you thought.

“Y/N, I’m home!” Toji calls into the house as he comes back from your neighborhood’s pharmacy. You look up from the book you were reading, smiling ever so slightly at your husband who seemed to have a wonderful sparkle in his eyes. “Hey, kid,” he kisses the top of your head when he reaches your wheelchair.

“You seem happy,” you remarked positively.

“Well, for one, they replenished their stocks today and I managed to get you your steroids and painkillers so you’ll be able to sleep easy tonight,” Toji smiles, taking out the items from the pharmacy’s paper bag. “And I got you this neat memory foam cushion for your wheelchair.” He fluffs it up as a form of demonstration before placing it behind your back.

When he sees you smile, a sense of relief washes over Toji. You reach towards him, and he pulls you into an embrace. “Thank you,” you said, pure sincerity dripping from your voice. “For everything you do.”

“Anything for you.” He suddenly moves back and reaches into the tote bag you lended him. “Oh, and wait, before I forget, I have another surprise.”

You laughed airily. “Another surprise? Now, you’re just spoiling me!”

He pulls out a piece of paper from the tote bag and he places it in your hands as your eyes quickly scan over the document. Your breath hitches in your throat when you realize what it is. Did Toji really—? You couldn’t believe it. “A marriage pre-registration,” you said in awe. You read it again just in case to make sure that this wasn’t a figment of your sick body’s imagination, that this was real, that Toji genuinely wants to make everything right again. Your fingers skim over your typewritten names. “It has our names…we’re really—“ You can’t even finish your sentence without bursting into happy tears. “Are we—?”

Toji nods, gazing into your eyes, and as emerald and (E/C) clash for what seems to be an eternity lost in one another, he plants a kiss to your temple, coming up to embrace you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“We are. The Tokyo Family Court, as far as I know, will approve our remarriage once we file this. So, you have to get stronger, okay?” He’s begging you at this point, despite your rapidly deteriorating condition. “Strong enough to see me fix everything. Strong enough to be there on our second wedding, strong enough to say our vows again.”

Your hand comes up to stroke his cheek from behind, and he nuzzles into your neck at your tender touch.

“I will. I promise.”

But you never really get to say your vows. Not comprehensibly anyway.

“Babe, can you say that again?”

Toji crouches by your bedside as you look at him apologetically. You were causing him trouble and pain again which is the last thing that you want to give him especially when’s fought and worked so hard to care for you, to keep prolonging this borrowed time you’re on. “To-ji. Toji.” You gaze at him apprehensibly, not really believing you can do it without crumbling.

“Come on, babe, you can do it. Say my name, please…Toji. I’m Toji.”

“Toooji-“ you slurred sadly. At this point, your Multiple Sclerosis has reached its end stage and has taken…everything from you: your ability to walk, your ability to control your muscle spasms and other bodily functions…and now, coupled with an unexpected stroke, your ability to speak. And you and Toji know that time is almost up, with you having come to accept it, while your husband still held onto hope. Your fingers gently graze over his face as best as your spasms and tremors allow you, starting from his forehead to his eyes, his nose, his cheek and finally, his lips, as if you’re memorizing it one last time. “Lo-ove you-“

Toji sniffles, and your fingers instinctively catch his warm tears. “I love you,” he whispers brokenly. “I do. I love you.”

You feel yourself tearing up as you’re forced to watch your beloved cry. And the worst part? You can’t do a thing about it. “D-oon’t c-cry—‘m okaay. Promi-miise…e’everyything ‘ill be okaaay.”

“Y-yeah,” he chuckles, trying to crack a joke even as hope dwindles. “You’ve been nothing but a fucking champ this entire time, you know? I’m so proud of you. So…so…proud that you’re still here.” He strokes your hair as you tread between the realms of the conscious and the unconscious. “Do you wanna go out today? The weather’s shit though. You’ll probably catch your death out there.” At the mention of the word ‘death’, Toji stops, falling into an uncomfortable silence.

You smile weakly at him. “Tiiredd—“

“You’re no fun,” Toji gently flicks your nose and you scrunch it up in displeasure. “Sorry,” he chuckles, holding back an entire waterfall of tears. He knows it’s today. It has to be. You woke up today without your usual ‘happy morning’ greeting, and you refused to drink anything, much less eat anything. “You tired? Any pain?”

You shake your head. You’re as comfortable as you can be for the first time in months. Hospice nurses say humans are built to live the same way they are built to die, no person in this world has ever had the uncanny privilege of being able to look up ‘How to die?’ on a quick Google search and actually find a Wikihow on the morbid subject matter, nor is there anyone else who can teach another how it’s done. It’s just something humans know how to do without a manual, deeply ingrained in the very fabric of human existence is the fear of death, the fear of what comes after, the fear of a nothingness that could follow after living such a vibrant life. Your life was short, barely spanning thirty years, but you lived well: you fell in love, you got hurt, but you fell together again. Now it all has to come to an end, Toji will just have to take care of the rest.

And you weren’t scared.

Or at least you can’t look scared, if you were to be more accurate, you have to look strong and ready to accept the cards you’ve been dealt with for Toji’s sake. When he feels your hand start to slacken, Toji intakes a sharp, shaky breath of sheer panic. “Not yet, Y/N. Please. Not yet.”

He climbs into bed with you, bringing you closer to this desperate man you call yours. There was no getting better anymore, there was no miracle he could hang onto, no deity he could beg for death to spare you, no pill bottle he could pray to. He knew that from the start. But what he witnessed these past months, you’ve been the braver one between the two of you, you knew how to make the most of the rhythm this cruel world gave you and you graciously took him along to dance to the last song of the evening with you.

“There’s still hope. Just keep your eyes open. Just keep them open.” He presses his lips to your forehead, his delusion getting the better of him. “We’ll just keep trying…you can’t leave. You have to stay. You have to.”

“Thaank yoou—“ you softly told your Toji, your voice shrinking in decibels as you become a little drowsy, sinking into the warmth of the requiem of a life well spent.

Toji listens to you, his lips pursed, intent on making this final act of love — a love that is strong enough to say goodbye — a memorable one. And should the afterlife exist, he wishes to send you off with a smile, with the reassurance that he’ll be alright even if that was far from happening.

“Toji.”