sylvie

toji didnt answer right away. he pulled off his soaked black hoodie, dropping it onto the floor with a heavy, wet thud. under the faint light of the floor lamp, you could see the dark line of a fresh split across his collarbone and a massive, dark shadow blooming over his right ribs. he was breathing tightly, each inhale shallow, as if expanding his lungs too far tasted like glass.

"you should have gone," he muttered, moving past you into the small kitchen area. he reached for the faucet, turning the cold tap on and sticking his hands under the stream. the water ran clear for a second before turning a faint, murky pink as the dried crust on his knuckles began to soften.

you didnt grab the first aid kit this time. you stayed where you were, leaning against the wooden table, watching his broad back. the tension in the room was different tonight. it wasnt just the fatigue of a broke father; it was the vibrating, dangerous, residual energy of a man who had just come from a slaughter.

"it was bad tonight, wasnt it?" you said, your eyes tracking the rigid line of his shoulders.

toji turned the tap off with a sharp jerk of his wrist. he didnt look at you, keeping his face turned toward the dark window. "i won."

"that wasnt what i asked."

a heavy, silent beat hung between you two, the only sound being the drip of the faucet and the rain outside. toji slowly turned around, his chest bare and glistening with a mix of tap water and cold sweat. he walked over to the counter right where you were standing, his massive frame casting a long, suffocating shadow over your small body.

"it's underground boxing," he said, his voice dropping to a flat, quiet murmur, finally giving a name to the violence that always followed him home. "down in the storage basements by the old rail yard. it pays the rent, it buys his medicine, and it is none of your business. now stop looking at me like that."

he didnt touch you, but he came close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off his bruised skin. the smell of iron was thick enough to taste on the back of your tongue.

"it doesnt matter if it was bad," toji rumbled, his green eyes locking onto yours with a sharp, piercing intensity that made your breath trap in your throat. he reached out, his large, blunt fingers gripping the edge of the counter on either side of your hips, effectively trapping you against the wood without ever making physical contact. "the pay was double what it was last week. you want your money or not, brat?"

"i want you to come back in one piece so i can actually go home," you whispered, your heart hammering a fast, frantic rhythm against your ribs. you refused to drop your gaze, even as his face lowered an inch, the sharp, pale scar on his lip twitching in the dark.

toji leaned in a fraction closer, his green eyes tracking the rapid pulse in your neck. the proximity was suffocating, the subtle scent of him filling your senses until your head spun. he let out a low, dark breath that brushed against your cheek, warm and sharp.

"then stop staying late," he murmured, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet register that made your skin tingle. "stop looking at the door like youre waiting for a ghost. you keep doing this, and i am going to think you like being trapped in my kitchen."

the tension between you two was absolute, a silent, heavy cord pulling tighter with every shallow breath you took. you were entirely at his mercy, your hands resting flat against the counter behind you to keep from reaching out to touch the dark purple bruise on his ribs. toji stayed right there, his gaze dropping down to your lips for one long, unreadable second, before he finally pulled back, leaving you cold in the dark room.

he didnt offer any grand apology or dramatic explanation. he just exhaled a rough, heavy breath and slumped onto the edge of the small, stained sofa, the old springs giving a sharp, metallic creak under his weight. he leaned his elbows on his knees, his massive shoulders hunched over as he stared down at his own damp knuckles.

you watched him from the counter, the silence stretching back out between you. the kitchen clock ticked rhythmically, a slow, annoying sound that felt too loud for how small the room was. your own exhaustion was starting to settle deep into your joints, making your knees feel weak and your eyelids impossibly heavy. but the raw, physical reality of him sitting there, bleeding onto his own floor, pretending it didnt matter, kept you anchored to the spot.

without making a scene of it, you walked back to the kitchen sink, grabbed a clean, damp towel, and walked over to the couch. you didnt kneel or beg for his attention; you just stood by his side and handed him the cloth.

toji looked at it, his green eyes flicking up to your face before he took it from your hands. he didnt start wiping himself down immediately. he just held the cold fabric against the massive, dark bruise forming over his right ribs, his jaw tightening slightly as the pressure hit the injury.

"dont look at me like i am dead yet," he muttered, his voice still low and raspy from the smoke of the basement rings. "it takes a lot more than a couple of punches to put me down."

"youre breathing like walking hurts, toji," you said flatly, leaning your hip against the arm of the sofa, arms crossed. "i dont care how many fights you win if youre too busted up to pick up your own kid tomorrow."

toji let out a short, rough sound that might have been a laugh if his chest didnt ache so bad. he finally used the cloth to aggressively rub the dried pink crust off his knuckles, his movements careless, like he couldnt be bothered to treat his own skin with any kind of patience. "he will survive. he has got you to take care of him anyway."

"i am not going to be here forever," you replied quietly, your eyes dropping to the dark gash on his collarbone. "you need to actually be present."

he stopped scrubbing his hands, the wet towel turning a heavy, rusted brown in his grip. he didnt look up, but the line of his shoulders went completely rigid. for a second, the dangerous, volatile energy from the rail yard flared back up in the small room, thick and suffocating. you could feel the shift instantly, the way the air seemed to lose its oxygen, the way his large frame seemed to expand even while sitting completely still. he was a weapon, even when he was broken, and the reminder was subtle but terrifying.

"i am present," toji said, his voice dropping into a dangerous, quiet register that made the hair on your arms stand up. he finally looked up at you, his green eyes completely dark in the shadows of the apartment. "i am the one bringing the cash back to this shitbox. if i wasnt present, the kid would be out on the street. remember that."

"i know," you whispered, refusing to back down even as the air grew heavy. "but he doesnt care about the cash, toji. he was screaming for hours tonight. he didnt want a handful of bills. he just wanted someone to hold him."

toji stared at you for a long, unreadable moment, his gaze tracking the exhaustion written clearly across your face. he looked at the shadows under your eyes, the tight, defensive set of your shoulders, and the way your fingers dug into your own forearms. the anger in his eyes slowly burned itself out, replaced by that same lazy, heavy indifference he used to shield himself from everything. he tossed the ruined cloth onto the floor with a dull smack.

he leaned back against the cushions, letting his head drop against the top of the sofa. the dampness from his hair began to seep into the fabric, but he didnt care. he looked entirely spent, stripped of the terrifying armor he wore out on the streets, leaving behind nothing but a man who was fighting a losing battle against the world and his own choices.

"he stopped crying when you picked him up, didnt he?" he asked quietly.

you blinked, caught off guard by the sudden drop in his intensity. the rough, gravelly edge of his voice had softened into something almost vulnerable, though you knew he would never admit to it. "eventually. he's just teething."

"yeah. teething," toji murmured, his eyes tracking a water stain on the ceiling. "his mother used to say he inherited my stubbornness. guess she was right. kid doesnt know when to just let it go."

you didnt say anything to that. it was rare for him to mention her, almost non existent, and the casual weight of the statement hung in the air like smoke. you shifted your weight, looking down at his large, battered hands resting on his thighs. his knuckles were raw, the skin split in jagged little lines that would take weeks to heal properly if he kept going back to those storage basements.

"you should let a doctor look at those ribs," you said, breaking the silence before it could get too heavy again. "if they are fractured, you could puncture something."

"cant afford a doctor who doesnt ask questions," toji replied, not bothering to open his eyes. "and the ones who dont charge double. i told you, i have had worse. a couple of cracked ribs wont stop me from moving."

"youre an idiot," you muttered, the words slipping out before you could stop them.

tojis left eye cracked open, a lazy, amused glint hiding in the dark green depth of his pupil. "careful, brat. i still pay your wages."

"barely," you countered, though there was no real heat in it.

the silence that followed was different this time. the sharp, suffocating tension from earlier had dissolved into the deep, shared exhaustion of two people trapped in the same drafty, leaking apartment at four in the morning. outside, the storm showed no signs of stopping; a sudden gust of wind rattled the loose pane of the kitchen window, sending a cold shiver of air rushing across the floorboards. you rubbed your arms, suddenly realizing how cold you were now that the adrenaline was fading.

toji noticed. he didnt say anything, but his eyes tracked the movement of your hands against your sleeves. he reached over to the low coffee table, where a crumpled, heavy envelope sat next to an old, scratched plastic lighter. he picked up the envelope and tossed it across the small gap between the sofa and where you stood. it landed with a dull, heavy thud on the wooden table.

"your pay," he said. "plus extra for staying until four."

you looked at the envelope, then back at him. "you dont have to give me extra, toji. i stayed because of megumi, not the money."

"take the damn money, brat," he rumbled, his voice losing its quiet edge and returning to its usual, abrasive scrape. "i didnt spend four hours getting my ribs kicked in just to argue with you about accounting. take it and go home before the trains stop running entirely."

you sighed, walking over to the table and sliding the envelope into your bag. you knew there was no point in fighting him when he got like this. he was stubborn to a fault, and arguing with him when he was already injured was just an exercise in futility. as you reached for your keys, the small metal ring jingling in the quiet room, you glanced back toward the hallway leading to the small bedroom where the crib sat.

"his fever should stay down, but if he wakes up crying again, give him the liquid medicine on the counter. just a small drop," you instructed, adjusting the strap of your bag over your shoulder. "and dont try to pick him up too fast if your side is hurting. you will drop him."

toji let out a low grunt, his eyes already drifting shut again as he stretched his long legs out across the length of the sofa. "i am not going to drop my own kid."

"just be careful," you muttered. "and try to get some sleep yourself. you look terrible."

"yeah, yeah. get out of here."

you moved toward the door, your boots clicking softly against the linoleum. every step felt like a chore, your body begging you to just find a corner and sleep, but the thought of your own bed, miles away across the city, kept you moving. you reached the entryway, the air here still carrying the damp, heavy scent of his soaked hoodie where it lay in a puddle on the floor.

you placed your hand on the heavy brass handle of the front door. the metal was freezing against your palm, a harsh reminder of the storm waiting for you outside. you hesitated for a split second, your fingers tightening around the handle. the apartment behind you was small, dark, and smelling of old tobacco and iron, but the sharp, dangerous edge that had entered with him had softened into something resembling peace. it was a strange, fragile kind of safety, but after the chaos of the evening, it felt real.

"goodnight, toji," you whispered into the gloom.

he didnt answer right away. you turned the heavy deadbolt, the loud clack echoing off the narrow walls of the entryway. but just as you pulled the door open, stepping out into the dim, drafty hallway of the apartment building where a single lightbulb flickered yellow, you caught the faint, low rumble of his voice answering just before the door clicked shut behind you.

"see you tomorrow, brat."

the hallway outside was freezing. the concrete floor seemed to suck the remaining warmth right out of your shoes as you walked toward the stairwell. the building was completely dead at this hour, the only sound being the distant rumble of the city and the relentless pouring of the rain against the roof. you took the stairs one by one, your hand sliding along the cold iron railing, your mind still lingering on the dark kitchen and the massive, bruised silhouette of the man sleeping on the couch.

when you finally pushed through the heavy glass doors at the ground floor, the lock gave way with a loose, broken rattle, a constant reminder of how easy it would be for anyone to walk right up to his door. you stepped out into the dark street, pulling your hood up against the stinging rain. the cold air hit your face like a slap, clearing away the lingering scent of iron and tobacco, but as you walked down the empty sidewalk toward the station, your fingers stayed tightly wrapped around the strap of your bag, where the heavy envelope of his money rested against your side.

taglist ! still open!

toji fushiguro easily took up the entire frame. he had to be at least six foot two, his broad shoulders nearly brushing against the molding on either side. he was completely bare from the waist up, his torso a rugged expanse of lean, dense muscle covered in a faint sheen of sweat that caught the dim light of the hall. a jagged, pale scar cut right through the right corner of his lips, stretching up toward his cheekbone, giving his mouth a permanent, cynical tilt even when his expression was blank. his dark, messy hair hung in damp strands over his forehead, partially obscuring a pair of sharp, jade green eyes that immediately dropped to look you up and down.

in his arms, looking completely absurd against the massive scale of his chest, was a tiny infant wrapped in a faded yellow blanket. the babys tuft of dark hair was sticking straight up, his tiny fist pressed against tojis collarbone.

"youre late," toji said.

his voice didnt sound like it came from his throat, it vibrated from deep within his chest, a low, gravelly rasp that sounded like heavy stones being dragged over gravel. he didnt sound angry, just entirely drained, his eyelids drooping with a heavy, bone deep fatigue.

"the subway caught a signal delay two stops back," you said, keeping your voice steady despite the way your heart gave a sudden, nervous thud against your ribs. "im here from the flyer, we talked on the stoop this afternoon."

toji stared at you for a beat longer, his green eyes tracking the line of your jaw, assessing whether you were going to turn around and run back down the stairs. when you didnt flinch, a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of his scarred lip occurred. he stepped backward into the apartment, leaving the door open for you to follow.

"close it behind you," he muttered, turning his back to you.

the apartment was small, essentially a single open concept room that functioned as a kitchen and living space, with a narrow door in the back that presumably led to a bathroom and a lone bedroom. the linoleum floor was old, patterned in a faded beige that had worn down to gray patches in front of the sink. a single plastic rocker sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by an absolute chaos of baby supplies, half empty cans of formula, a mountain of plastic diapers stacked haphazardly on a folding table, and several crumpled betting sheets from the local racetrack.

the heavy, stifling heat inside was cut only by the weak breeze of a small plastic fan sitting on the kitchen counter, its blades whirring with a low, irritating buzz.

toji walked over to the rocker, his loose, low slung gray sweatpants riding low on his hips, exposing the sharp lines of his pelvic bones and the dark trails of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband. he lowered his massive frame with a controlled, predatory grace, setting the baby down into the plastic seat with an awkward, almost hyper cautious gentleness. his thick, blunt fingers looked entirely too large for the task, his knuckles raw and slightly red, though you couldnt see any open wounds yet.

"he hasnt stopped making that noise since five," toji said, leaning his hands on his knees as he stared down at the infant. megumi, that was the name he had mentioned earlier, was not crying, but he was letting out a rhythmic, high pitched whine, his tiny legs kicking beneath the blanket.

"he is probably just hot," you murmured, stepping closer. you set your canvas bag on the kitchen table, making sure to avoid the sticky ring left by an old coffee mug. you knelt beside the rocker, your movements soft and deliberate. when you reached out, your hand looked small against the plastic frame, but your fingers were steady as you gently pulled the heavy blanket down to megumis waist, exposing his small cotton onesie.

within a few seconds, the babys whining slowed, his dark eyes shifting from the ceiling to focus on your face. he let out a soft, wet sigh, his tiny fingers reaching out to blindly grasp at the air, until they bumped against your knuckles.

toji watched the entire interaction from above. he hadnt moved an inch, his heavy shadow completely enveloping both you and the baby. his green eyes were fixed on the back of your neck, watching the way your hair shifted as you tilted your head. there was a strange, unreadable intensity to his gaze, a mixture of profound relief and a sharp, calculating curiosity.

"youre good with him," he observed. it wasnt a compliment, it was a statement of fact, delivered with the cold detachment of a man checking the inventory on a shipment.

"i used to help with my younger cousins," you replied gently, letting megumi track your index finger. "babies dont like being wrapped up like burritos in ninety degree weather, mr fushiguro."

"toji," he corrected, a tiny scoff escaped his chest. he stood up straight, the sudden shift in his height making the small room feel even tighter than it already was. he rubbed a large palm over his face, the rough skin of his hand making a dry, scratching sound against the thick stubble along his jawline. "formula is in the top cupboard over the sink, bottles are in the dish rack, dont touch the small radio on the shelf, the dial is broken and it takes an hour to get the station back."

he walked over to the back of a wooden chair, picking up a faded, oversized black zip up hoodie, as he slipped his arms through the sleeves. the fabric stretched tight across his back, highlighting the deep, powerful columns of muscle that lined his spine. he didnt bother zipping it up, leaving his scarred chest fully visible as he checked his pockets.

"what time will you be back?" you asked, standing up from the floor and wiping your palms against your jeans.

toji paused, his hand hovering near the pocket of his hoodie. he turned his head slightly, his sharp profile silhouetted against the dim light of the kitchen fan. his green eyes narrowed just a fraction, a look that was entirely protective and deeply secretive, passing over his features.

"before dawn," he said, his voice dropping into a lower, rougher register that seemed to graze against the back of your neck. "if anyone knocks, dont answer it, i dont care who they say they are, im the only one with a key."

"is there a number where i can reach you if there is an emergency?"

toji stopped, his hand diving into the pocket of his gray sweatpants. he pulled out a heavily battered, blocky plastic flip phone, the silver paint peeling entirely along the edges. the screen was dark, spiderwebbed with a deep crack right down the middle. he tossed it carelessly onto the folding table, where it landed with a dull, plastic clack.

"phone is a piece of shit, it only receives texts if the battery doesnt die in twenty minutes," he muttered, reaching onto the kitchen counter to grab a stray scrap of a betting slip and a blunt pencil. he scrawled a string of digits across the back, his large hand moving with heavy, impatient strokes, before he slid the piece of paper toward you. "thats the number, try it if the place starts burning down, otherwise dont bother me."

he walked toward the front door, his heavy boots making the worn linoleum creak beneath his weight. his large fingers completely covered the brass hardware of the doorknob. he gave you one final, lingering look over his shoulder, his green eyes dark, assessing, and leaving a heavy, lingering warmth in the room, before he stepped out into the yellow glare of the corridor. "just keep him quiet."

the lock turned from the outside with a heavy, definitive click, leaving you alone in the quiet apartment with nothing but the buzz of the fan and the slow, steady breathing of his son.

taglist ! - still open!