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To yearn for Toji is light work. 

Pining after him is as easy as making up workout trivia just to get a reaction from him that isn’t a neutral quirk of his lips or a dismissive tilt of his head. You’re pretty sure you’re going overboard with said lies (the proof being you having to approach Toji without Satoru in earshot just so the latter wouldn’t burst out laughing), but Toji doesn’t seem to think so.

He’s either very clueless and actually believes you, or he’s just tolerant of your “fact” of the day despite being annoyed to death with you.

“Now where the hell did you hear that?” he narrows his eyes at you, the ghost of an amused smirk lingering in his lips the longer you look at him in anticipation for his reaction.

“Just… somewhere! I heard it’s verified information,” you smile, nodding your head to delay the incoming wave of embarrassment that you have for yourself.

“Oh, okay,” Toji parts his lips, nodding tersely. “A reputable news site really said that my grip strength is stronger than a shark’s?”

“Mhmm. You’re the strongest, I bet,” you squeak, the tremble of your hands behind your back coming to a halt when Toji has to excuse himself because Satoru hollered at him from the other side of the gym.

You’re not ready at all to confess to Toji.

Every week, from Monday to Saturday, Toji comes into your best friend’s gym with a scowl on his face as if Satoru personally provoked him one way or another (read: he did), within the window of 9 to 10 AM. Only his left hand would be occupied by his gym bag, which he leaves to you for safekeeping at the front desk instead of the locker room, because Toji would rather punch himself in the gut than to deal with overeager fanboys asking him about his fights.

Additionally, every week from Monday to Saturday, you come to the gym at 7 AM sharp, partially to clock in — but mostly to walk to the expensive coffee shop down the block to buy Toji his drink from your own pocket. Between 9 to 10 AM, Toji saunters into the gym and gives you his bag, to which you take with open arms.

Also, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you make sure that you're Toji’s first interaction of the day.

The routine you have with him (and not the other way around because he’s definitely not as involved with you than you are with him) starts with you giving him a wildcard drink that the barista recommended, then Toji either scrunching his nose in disgust or him humming in something a little bit more pleasant than disgust, then him later thanking you before giving you his standard response.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” he’d say, his brows soft yet scrunched in the middle. (In other words: I don’t like you back so you don’t have to do this for me at all.)

“But I want to,” you’d reply, your smile small yet unperturbed. (In other words: I like you and I want to do this for you regardless, but a large part of me hopes that you’ll like me back.)

It’s no secret that you have a crush on Toji– not at all. Practically everyone in the gym knows how head-over-heels you are for him, and maybe even more than the fighter in question.

Satoru knows it, and he groans to no end whenever you pine for Toji like a little puppy. With each interaction you have with Toji that’s more desperate and maybe even a little more pathetic from your end than usual, Satoru wastes no time before offering to set you up with one of his friends, to which you always deny.

Shiu knows it too, and he tries to bring you up during sparring sessions with Toji that come after seeing your more helpless flirting attempts with the latter. Shiu’s actively trying to help you, Toji, and himself in the process because he can’t tell just how much secondhand embarrassment he can take before exploding.

The occasional opponents for practice matches know it. The night janitor knows it. God, even the delivery guy who’s only seen you ask Toji if he wanted water once knows it too.

Toji doesn’t like you, and while you know that fact wholeheartedly, you’ve come to realize that taking care of him in your own way is what completes your day even without getting anything in return. You know you’re bound to be sick of the one-sided yearning anyway, but while you’re not sick of fawning over Toji, you want to make the most of it.

You want to make the most of it until defeat sinks in.

Toji does not care for you — or atleast that’s what he tells everyone.

“I don’t have a crush on her. Never did,” Toji would say to Shiu every time they sparred, his words automatically flowing as soon as he sees the slightest hint of a smirk on his handler’s face. Shiu would always wave him away as usual (and that earns him an ungloved and unrestricted punch on the shoulder out of the ring), and it only makes Toji pout because even his friend doesn’t believe him.

“I don’t like girls who are so obvious,” he would mutter under his breath whenever Satoru nudges him to say thank you when you hold out a clean towel for him even if he didn’t ask. Toji appreciates the cold, fragrant, and personally-delivered-by-you towel anyway, but not enough to smack Satoru on the face with it.

“I don’t know why you’d think that,” Toji, without fail, would reply to anyone in the gym who mistakes him as your boyfriend. He’s gotten shameless with it to the point that he doesn’t mind if you hear it, but also without fail, he feels a little guilty every time.

Toji shouldn’t exactly feel guilty for not liking you back because he doesn’t owe it to you in the first place — or atleast that’s how he reasons with himself.

.

.

.

“I’m gonna stop liking him in a week, Toru. I swear. Cold turkey and everything.” 

“Yup. Sure you will, sport,” Satoru snorts at your drunken admission, kicking your knee lightly to stop you from your sulking.

He feels a little responsible for your feelings towards Toji because if only he didn’t introduce you to him, none of this would’ve happened in the first place. 

You would’ve still been his sole accountant for his gym who only dropped in every once in awhile to help manage the place whenever it was short-staffed and not this; not the multi-tasking beast that you are who’s not only his accountant, but this cheery and energized all-rounder gym employee you he didn’t ask you to be.

“No, no. I’m serious this time,” you mutter, your cheek squished to the table so you can limit yourself from saying anything else that could explain to Satoru why you were hellbent in accepting his offer to drink tonight. “I feel like a fool running after Toji.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly use the word-…”

“I know you think it.”

“Fine. I do think it, but you know I mean well!” Satoru surrenders, ruffling your hair as he takes note of keeping the windows down and driving as slowly as he legally could when he takes you home tonight. “You just aren’t Toji’s type, but that’s not a bad thing, y’know? 

There’s so much more on your mind, but you’re not in the mood to think of Toji any longer because the moment you do, you’ll succumb to him again.

You want to surrender, completely and irrevocably this time, but not without the final push so you could say that you did everything and you’ll have no regrets if Toji turns you down again — or rather, when Toji turns you down again.

“If it doesn’t work out,” you hiccup, burying your face to the bulk of Satoru’s sweater so you could smell the scent of clean laundry on him instead of imagining that you’re smelling Toji’s perfume out of nowhere in the packed club. “Go set me up with your friend.”

( ♡ ) 

Toji’s a little perplexed to see you at the front desk this morning.

After all, it was only last night when he saw you at the club, looking completely spent with your head buried in Satoru’s shoulder. Toji had only nodded to him when their eyes locked, mouthing that he’s with his friends so he can’t hang back with him, and Satoru let him go without any annoying remarks because he just gestures to your sleeping figure wordlessly.

Weirdly enough, Toji didn’t get to enjoy himself last night because his eyes kept wandering to your booth.

What’s even weirder now is that not only did you come to work looking fully recovered, but Toji also hangs back for a fraction of a minute right after giving you his duffel bag.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling tightly as he tries to figure out internally on why his feet wouldn’t move at all.

“Hi, Toji,” you reply back, staying still on your seat as you try to make conversation with him, but oddly enough, no ridiculous trivia could come out of your lips.

All it takes is Satoru whistling from the breakroom for you to snap into your senses, and for Toji to realize what was missing.

You have no drink for him today.

He’s not that bothered because that means he’s not subjected to whatever overly sweet or bitter monstrosity you give him, and that could only mean that he’ll be able to skip giving you his signature rejection.

It’s a good thing for you to start giving up on him, he convinces himself.

Toji tolerates you in a way that’s unbeknownst even to you, because in the first place, you’ve convinced yourself that the crush you have on the MMA fighter isn’t that serious.

Swiping your employee card to get him a free energy drink isn’t that serious in your own perspective, but when you overheard the conversation awhile ago between Toji and Shiu (with the latter convincing him that free energy drinks equated to a marriage proposal), you started doing it for everyone. You swipe your card over and over even for the fighters you barely know, but oddly enough, Toji’s eyes twitch whenever he sees his favorite grape-flavored drink in everyone’s hands.

Offering the Bluetooth connection code to Toji for him to play whatever he wants to on the speakers may be a little serious, but you convince yourself that it really isn’t when you accidentally eavesdrop on Satoru telling him that you totally have it out for him. What you do for Toji, you start to do for everyone; it’s telling with the way your speakers announce whose phone it’s connected to every thirty minutes, but not so much telling as to why Toji’s going extra hard sparring with his handler.

Toji does not care for you — or atleast that’s what you’ve convinced yourself.

Denying his fondness for you has almost been as easy as you tamping down your adoration for him, so much so that when a new guy at the gym randomly comes up to Toji and mentions your name, he responds automatically.

“We’re not together. Go ask…” her out — that’s what Toji’s supposed to say. “I don’t know, actually. I heard she’s taken, I think,” he rectifies himself, exiting the conversation before he could be bombarded with yet another question that revolved around you.

Or another question that would only make him realize that you having eyes for only him doesn’t equate to other people backing off from that mere fact alone.

Toji doesn’t like you, but oddly enough, the fact doesn’t bother you as much lately.

( ♡ ) 

You’re on your last leg of pining for Toji.

The shame of it all is finally getting to you, seeping into your deepest crevices that had thought for the longest time that you had a fighting chance with him. You don’t exactly regret yearning for Toji because after all, it had been in your own accord, no matter the risks you’ve already taken.

Maybe, just maybe, you could only go up from here. 

Maybe, because you and Toji hadn’t been friends to begin with when you pursued him, but on the other hand, it could be your ultimate downfall because perhaps right after he turns you down this time, you won’t be able to come back to anything.

There’s no foundation built between the two of you for you to fall back on, and while that’s surely devastating for you, it would only be a walk in the park for Toji.

You’re risking it all, even if you’re just as sure that nothing will come out of this, because you know you won’t come out unscathed — when Toji finally lets you down this time, harshly like you don’t mean anything to him, you’ll know then that you did everything in your power before you gave up on him.

The omamori in your hands that you’ve planned giving to him is your only salvation, because you get to grip it and remind yourself in real time that Toji’s seething at you.

He’s been stressed since the early morning fighting with his manager who had considered fixing up a match, and despite having resolved it with Choso already even before you came into his eyesight, Toji can’t shake off the anger from his body.

You’re the first person who comes into his space and into his mind, and you’re probably the last for the day (and maybe for an unforeseen amount of time) with the way he snaps at you.

“Y/N, can you just-“ Toji sharply inhales, clenching his jaw so tightly just so he can’t make his voice any louder. “Can you just please fucking stop?”

The omamori that you’re gripping tightly in your hands, the same one that you’ve gotten for blessings and protection for his fight in a month’s time, reminds you that Toji doesn’t want anything to do with you.

“I bet you’re a nice girl and all but I just don’t want you, okay?” he nods breathlessly as if asking you for confirmation. “I don’t like you like that.”

After a year and then some of yearning for Toji, you finally yield.

( ♡ ) 

You don’t come in for work.

Your absence is easily noticed because by this hour, you should’ve been glued to your seat by the front desk, ready to stash Toji’s gym bag under your desk.

He freezes by the entrance, brows knitted in confusion to see that your spot’s empty. He and his bag have been spoiled by you to the point that Toji feels uncharacteristically displaced when he walks past your desk, with his bag and without his drink.

“Huh,” Toji mutters to himself, strolling as casually as he could to the breakroom. He’s already had breakfast and he’ll be willing to have another one if it means lingering around you today, but to his surprise (and his surprise only), you aren’t there. “That’s weird.”

Toji jolts in place when he senses an agitating presence behind him that does little to conceal his proximity behind him, fists immediately clenching when he sees Satoru lean on the wall next to him.

“Jeez. I wonder who could’ve possibly said what to Y/N that made her call in sick today,” he enunciates slowly, enough for the sarcasm to steep in and his words to absorb into Toji’s thick skull.

“What are you-…” Toji interrupts himself when he finally gets what Satoru’s pertaining to, the skip of his chest being telling about the guilt that’s been stewing at the back of his head since last night.

“You weren’t exactly discreet about it, idiot. We were in the breakroom,” Satoru rolls his eyes, standing to his full height when he sees Toji falter. “Even Shiu heard you and he has the most effective noise-cancelling headphones known to man.”

Right on cue, Shiu comes out leisurely out of the room he had been peeking at two seconds ago. It takes only a second for him to register that Toji’s outside for whatever reason (he knows exactly why) before whistling in response, the shit-eating grin on his face apparent for Toji to remember.

“Woof,” he chuckles. “Don’t go biting my head now. I bet you’re a nice guy and all.”

It’s a build-up of things since this morning, and perhaps even from last night if he counts the immediate tinge of regret that stings him when he’s seethed his rejection at you, that truly throws Toji off his game.

Maybe it’s Satoru’s repeated teasing throughout the day and his targeted material of asking whether Toji was hungry or not, right within the timeframe wherein you usually ask him if he wants to join you for a meal.

Maybe it’s Shiu’s incessant mentioning of your name throughout his workout and the convenient reminder that Toji’s working out harder than he usually does, yet there’s no cold towel waiting for him.

But really, whatever it is that just adds up to the already excessive noise in Toji’s head concerning you, he knows now more than ever that absence your absence is noticeable.

His opponent for today’s practice match knows it. The day janitor knows it. Even the delivery guy who’s only been here twice knows it.

Toji simmers in guilt except he doesn’t want to admit it just yet, full well knowing that he would have texted you an apology — if only he had your number.

( ♡ ) 

You come back after three days.

After a year and some months’ worth of excessive reminders from Satoru, you finally take into realization that you don’t have to go to work in-person as often as you do. 

You didn’t know that all it would take for you to slow down and take your much-needed break is Toji by some way (read: rejecting you so harshly that you had been mute on your way home), and you haven’t predicted at all that there’ll be a day wherein you come to work not to pursue him.

Toji immediately notices your presence because even if you were no longer perched by the front desk, it was apparent that you’re already back judging by the way everyone– and literally everyone— in the gym seemed to look at ease somehow.

You’re at the other side of the gym with the light equipment that Toji barely frequents, and it’s the way you stand and smile that makes him pause.

It’s also the way that you smile at Choso that makes Toji announce his presence loudly.

“Let me help you there, buddy,” he claps behind the guy he recognizes as one of his fans (in all fairness, Yuuji isn’t as annoying as all the others who only come here just to get a glimpse of him), startling his already trembling figure.

Toji, without any hesitation yet a lot of frustration, easily grabs the heavy barbell mid-air that Yuuji’s struggling with before dropping it to the ground as roughly as he could.

It’s too light for him. Too easy, even. 

What’s heavier for Toji at the moment is the realization that you’ve given up on him and he has no one to blame but his emotional constipation, and maybe Choso who had pissed him off prior to his tantrum at you.

You did look at Toji and the mini scene he had created, but you immediately avert your eyes as soon as he fixates on yours.

He feels untethered this way, and if the lump on his throat is omniscient of the guilt that he’s feeling yet he’s unable to put into words, Toji wants you to notice him again, tirelessly and shamelessly like you did before.

He’s not in his usual zone, so much so that he barely makes any banter with Shiu who had been talking his ear off in letting Satoru have a go at him.

Toji’s too far out of his concentration, so much so that he agrees to spar with Satoru. 

He’s been pestering him for the longest time to get in the ring with him and Toji had always declined, even if he knows that your friend could take him on to some degree. He’s turned him down again and again for even just a light sparring session, especially when you were around, because he knows that he’s your friend.

He wouldn’t want to hurt Satoru if it hurts you, except now, the difference is that the latter really wants to hurt him and the former is out of his game to the point that he’ll resort to anything just to get your attention.

Toji lands a punch so hard that Satoru audibly croaks, holding his stomach even with the padding on. You’ve always been (read: used to be) the biggest fan of Toji even in practice matches, but now, instead of cheering for him, your eyebrows knit in worry instead–

Except your concern isn’t for him.

“Satoru? You okay?” you immediately come to his side by the ring, eyes inspecting him from head to toe.

Before he could even say that he is and that he’ll get back at Toji with twice the power, Toji pipes in from behind your friend, raising a gloved hand sheepishly.

“I’m not.” 

Toji shamelessly declares his apparent hurt, making everyone nearby audibly gawk at him for his audacity. You only blink at him in the surprise, trying your earnest to see on what part and capacity could Satoru, a non-professional, has possibly injured him.

“H-he punched me by the ear,” he stutters, the lie catching onto his teeth on the way out. The embarrassment of him making up an unbelievable lie is yet to hit, but Toji wouldn’t mind either way.

“What?! I barely even hit you in the face!” Satoru reacts, his face indescribable with the way he swats Toji on the arm in disbelief.

You snort at the scene in amusement, yet your eyes stay fixated on your friend.

“Yeah, yeah. I believe you, Toru.”

( ♡ ) 

True to his word, Satoru sets you up with his friend.

It was amusing, if not mildly infuriating with regards to the universe’s fate for your heart, to learn that Suguru’s the owner of the upscale café you’ve been buying Toji’s drinks from for six out of seven days a week.

It’s actually amusing to the point that you immediately smile whenever Satoru brings up Suguru, even for no particular reason, because if only time and luck had been at your side, you would’ve met him earlier and spared yourself the heartbreak from Toji.

You know to yourself, even in the deepest pits of your stomach that would like to argue otherwise, that you would’ve like Toji regardless even if you met Suguru earlier — what irks you about the whole thing is that fate is twisted.

You’re at standstill with the guy who checks all your boxes and actually likes you back unlike Toji, except this time, you’re content at staying in whatever playful relationship that you and Suguru are in now. 

It’s not a mess per se, but it’s a playful blunder between the two of you wherein you flirt and like each other’s presence, except you’re not in a relationship at all because neither of you are in a rush.

Oddly enough, having each other while not exactly owning the other at same time is enjoyable for the both of you.

For not atleast, you and Suguru are simply fated to be a pair of flirty friends that enjoy each other’s company without having to come home at the end of the night. He has his reservations while you have yours too, but they didn’t mean anything when the other just needs another shoulder present.

Your reservations don’t matter at the moment when there’s an inner turmoil that roots from the base of your chest, simply because Satoru had made the offhand comment that Toji kept asking him about you while you weren’t around.

Your reservations don’t matter at the moment when Suguru comes at the perfect time because he’s not as familiar as the best friend you grew up with, nor is he as fond as the man you’ve spent the better part of a year crushing on and are now wanting to move on from.

“Who’s that?” Toji snaps to no one in particular, the scowl on his face off-putting and intriguing enough for Satoru to notice. He follows Toji’s line of sight, a sly smirk already building up on his face at the prospect of teasing him, even if he knows your real score with Suguru.

“Oh, that’s Suguru. He’s my friend.”

“Didn’t he use to be that defending champion or something?” Toji murmurs, crossing his arms. He vaguely recalls how he once read an article detailing the young player retiring early so he could live a normal life, hearing the name Geto every once in awhile. “Why’s he here?”

“Didn’t you say you never keep tabs on other players?” Satoru snickers, the teasing smirk apparent on his face because of Toji’s sheer bitterness. “Also, it’s my gym. He’s not allowed around here or something?”

“Whatever. Don’t care,” Toji grumbles. “I could take him in a fight. I’d probably destroy him.”

Toji feels unwell, not because he spent a solid ten minutes arguing with a defensive Satoru that keeps insisting his best friend could totally defeat him in a fight, but because throughout that time, not once did you stop smiling at whatever Suguru has to say to you.

Your eyes are practically gleaming and although he loves the sight, there’s this ache that blooms in his chest and spreads all the way to the base of his spine knowing that it’s what you had looked like in front of him for the longest time.

“I bought lunch.”

Toji approaches you as soon as Suguru goes to the bathroom, his smile gentle and hesitant. 

It’s a first for you because you usually treat him. At the start, it was you treating everyone in order not to be transparent with your crush, but there’d been a couple obvious times in which you only exerted efforts for Toji and only him.

Toji doesn’t bother with an excuse of treating everyone or that he had bought too many; he just wants to have lunch with you. “Want some?”

“No, but thank you,” you answer lowly, the shake of your head barely noticeable because you don’t want to look him in the eye.

Toji’s more confused than he is deterred, the bag in his hands suddenly weighing a ton. “But you haven’t left your desk so that means you haven’t eaten yet,” he points out. “Do you not like this type of food? If not, I could just run to the-…”

“There you are!” 

Suguru comes back, and just like that, the crumbs of attention you were giving him had been cleaned up entirely. 

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s gooo, doll. I wanna beat everyone else to the limited specials,” Suguru ignores his obvious beating presence and practically drags you out from your chair (even though you needed little convincing), the hold he has on your wrist making Toji see red briefly.

Toji’s jaw clenches, unconsciously stepping out of the gym not long since you and Suguru rushed out, his sharp eyes following you until you both turn the corner.

It’s the same shop he got your food from.

( ♡ ) 

Toji can’t put a finger to what he’s feeling.

He feels different; the bad and dull kind of different that makes him listless and anxious no matter how much he tries to tire himself out.

He’ll subject himself to an agonizing workout with no breaks in between, but after that, he could only think about the way your bottom lip trembled at his words.

He’ll put himself through one practice match after another without any proper training, and even if Toji wins as he always does, he could only think about how he’s lost all of your affection that he had unconsciously looked forward to the entire time.

Toji finds himself lingering around you and he doesn't know if he could just continue hovering and hovering in this way; in a way that's unlike yours because you were unafraid to stand so close to him, talk to him whenever you please, and trail around him like a lost puppy in the past.

He’s upset and he doesn’t even know why he allows himself to feel that way, when for the longest time, he had convinced himself that he didn’t give you any hope so he had no reason to feel guilty about turning you down; so that he had no problem ignoring you while dealing with his constipation of not apologizing.

Toji’s upset, except he’s too self-aware to the point that it’s only his spite that keeps him awake with regret; he did give you hope. 

He didlinger around you and accept whatever you had to give him despite his lips making out the sentiment that he can never return them.

He did feel guilty at the prospect of turning you down right from the start because if that wasn’t the case, then you would have long given up on him. 

He did feel guilty about rejecting you, especially considering the fact that he wasn’t wholeheartedly sure whenever he refused your love — he still does.

“Toji?” you call out, the sound of your voice immediately startling him with the lights already dim in the breakroom. Toji only frequented the breakroom whenever you were there, and the odd, if not ironic, turn of events makes him smile humorlessly. “Are you drunk? Do you need me to call Satoru?” you ask with genuine concern, tilting your head as you try to assess his figure. “Do you want to go home?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head softly. “It’s jus’ to take the edge off. Probably easier to get a horse drunk than to get metipsy.”

You give a small smile at that, the tremble of your hands barely noticeable with the way Toji’s even more nervous than you at the realization that the two of you are alone with each other.

You’re only here because you forgot your laptop, and Toji’s only here because he doesn’t know what to make of himself because you’ve detached yourself from his routine— from his life, it seems like.

Toji looks down on his full glass, swirling it by his knee. There’s an unspeakable sorrow to his face with something about it resembling you, or atleast the resignation you felt every time Toji turned you down less than gently.

“Why don’t you like me anymore?”

Your eyes widen at the question, the words left in the tip of your tongue drying out the longer that Toji looked at you this way — like he’s stooped down to the level you used to be in, his eyes tired and glassy.

To yearn for Toji is light work. 

Pining after him is as easy as making up workout trivia just to get a reaction from him that isn’t a neutral quirk of his lips or a dismissive tilt of his head. You’re pretty sure you’re going overboard with said lies (the proof being you having to approach Toji without Satoru in earshot just so the latter wouldn’t burst out laughing), but Toji doesn’t seem to think so.

He’s either very clueless and actually believes you, or he’s just tolerant of your “fact” of the day despite being annoyed to death with you.

“Now where the hell did you hear that?” he narrows his eyes at you, the ghost of an amused smirk lingering in his lips the longer you look at him in anticipation for his reaction.

“Just… somewhere! I heard it’s verified information,” you smile, nodding your head to delay the incoming wave of embarrassment that you have for yourself.

“Oh, okay,” Toji parts his lips, nodding tersely. “A reputable news site really said that my grip strength is stronger than a shark’s?”

“Mhmm. You’re the strongest, I bet,” you squeak, the tremble of your hands behind your back coming to a halt when Toji has to excuse himself because Satoru hollered at him from the other side of the gym.

You’re not ready at all to confess to Toji.

Every week, from Monday to Saturday, Toji comes into your best friend’s gym with a scowl on his face as if Satoru personally provoked him one way or another (read: he did), within the window of 9 to 10 AM. Only his left hand would be occupied by his gym bag, which he leaves to you for safekeeping at the front desk instead of the locker room, because Toji would rather punch himself in the gut than to deal with overeager fanboys asking him about his fights.

Additionally, every week from Monday to Saturday, you come to the gym at 7 AM sharp, partially to clock in — but mostly to walk to the expensive coffee shop down the block to buy Toji his drink from your own pocket. Between 9 to 10 AM, Toji saunters into the gym and gives you his bag, to which you take with open arms.

Also, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you make sure that you're Toji’s first interaction of the day.

The routine you have with him (and not the other way around because he’s definitely not as involved with you than you are with him) starts with you giving him a wildcard drink that the barista recommended, then Toji either scrunching his nose in disgust or him humming in something a little bit more pleasant than disgust, then him later thanking you before giving you his standard response.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” he’d say, his brows soft yet scrunched in the middle. (In other words: I don’t like you back so you don’t have to do this for me at all.)

“But I want to,” you’d reply, your smile small yet unperturbed. (In other words: I like you and I want to do this for you regardless, but a large part of me hopes that you’ll like me back.)

It’s no secret that you have a crush on Toji– not at all. Practically everyone in the gym knows how head-over-heels you are for him, and maybe even more than the fighter in question.

Satoru knows it, and he groans to no end whenever you pine for Toji like a little puppy. With each interaction you have with Toji that’s more desperate and maybe even a little more pathetic from your end than usual, Satoru wastes no time before offering to set you up with one of his friends, to which you always deny.

Shiu knows it too, and he tries to bring you up during sparring sessions with Toji that come after seeing your more helpless flirting attempts with the latter. Shiu’s actively trying to help you, Toji, and himself in the process because he can’t tell just how much secondhand embarrassment he can take before exploding.

The occasional opponents for practice matches know it. The night janitor knows it. God, even the delivery guy who’s only seen you ask Toji if he wanted water once knows it too.

Toji doesn’t like you, and while you know that fact wholeheartedly, you’ve come to realize that taking care of him in your own way is what completes your day even without getting anything in return. You know you’re bound to be sick of the one-sided yearning anyway, but while you’re not sick of fawning over Toji, you want to make the most of it.

You want to make the most of it until defeat sinks in.

Toji does not care for you — or atleast that’s what he tells everyone.

“I don’t have a crush on her. Never did,” Toji would say to Shiu every time they sparred, his words automatically flowing as soon as he sees the slightest hint of a smirk on his handler’s face. Shiu would always wave him away as usual (and that earns him an ungloved and unrestricted punch on the shoulder out of the ring), and it only makes Toji pout because even his friend doesn’t believe him.

“I don’t like girls who are so obvious,” he would mutter under his breath whenever Satoru nudges him to say thank you when you hold out a clean towel for him even if he didn’t ask. Toji appreciates the cold, fragrant, and personally-delivered-by-you towel anyway, but not enough to smack Satoru on the face with it.

“I don’t know why you’d think that,” Toji, without fail, would reply to anyone in the gym who mistakes him as your boyfriend. He’s gotten shameless with it to the point that he doesn’t mind if you hear it, but also without fail, he feels a little guilty every time.

Toji shouldn’t exactly feel guilty for not liking you back because he doesn’t owe it to you in the first place — or atleast that’s how he reasons with himself.

.

.

.

“I’m gonna stop liking him in a week, Toru. I swear. Cold turkey and everything.” 

“Yup. Sure you will, sport,” Satoru snorts at your drunken admission, kicking your knee lightly to stop you from your sulking.

He feels a little responsible for your feelings towards Toji because if only he didn’t introduce you to him, none of this would’ve happened in the first place. 

You would’ve still been his sole accountant for his gym who only dropped in every once in awhile to help manage the place whenever it was short-staffed and not this; not the multi-tasking beast that you are who’s not only his accountant, but this cheery and energized all-rounder gym employee you he didn’t ask you to be.

“No, no. I’m serious this time,” you mutter, your cheek squished to the table so you can limit yourself from saying anything else that could explain to Satoru why you were hellbent in accepting his offer to drink tonight. “I feel like a fool running after Toji.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly use the word-…”

“I know you think it.”

“Fine. I do think it, but you know I mean well!” Satoru surrenders, ruffling your hair as he takes note of keeping the windows down and driving as slowly as he legally could when he takes you home tonight. “You just aren’t Toji’s type, but that’s not a bad thing, y’know? 

There’s so much more on your mind, but you’re not in the mood to think of Toji any longer because the moment you do, you’ll succumb to him again.

You want to surrender, completely and irrevocably this time, but not without the final push so you could say that you did everything and you’ll have no regrets if Toji turns you down again — or rather, when Toji turns you down again.

“If it doesn’t work out,” you hiccup, burying your face to the bulk of Satoru’s sweater so you could smell the scent of clean laundry on him instead of imagining that you’re smelling Toji’s perfume out of nowhere in the packed club. “Go set me up with your friend.”

( ♡ ) 

Toji’s a little perplexed to see you at the front desk this morning.

After all, it was only last night when he saw you at the club, looking completely spent with your head buried in Satoru’s shoulder. Toji had only nodded to him when their eyes locked, mouthing that he’s with his friends so he can’t hang back with him, and Satoru let him go without any annoying remarks because he just gestures to your sleeping figure wordlessly.

Weirdly enough, Toji didn’t get to enjoy himself last night because his eyes kept wandering to your booth.

What’s even weirder now is that not only did you come to work looking fully recovered, but Toji also hangs back for a fraction of a minute right after giving you his duffel bag.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling tightly as he tries to figure out internally on why his feet wouldn’t move at all.

“Hi, Toji,” you reply back, staying still on your seat as you try to make conversation with him, but oddly enough, no ridiculous trivia could come out of your lips.

All it takes is Satoru whistling from the breakroom for you to snap into your senses, and for Toji to realize what was missing.

You have no drink for him today.

He’s not that bothered because that means he’s not subjected to whatever overly sweet or bitter monstrosity you give him, and that could only mean that he’ll be able to skip giving you his signature rejection.

It’s a good thing for you to start giving up on him, he convinces himself.

Toji tolerates you in a way that’s unbeknownst even to you, because in the first place, you’ve convinced yourself that the crush you have on the MMA fighter isn’t that serious.

Swiping your employee card to get him a free energy drink isn’t that serious in your own perspective, but when you overheard the conversation awhile ago between Toji and Shiu (with the latter convincing him that free energy drinks equated to a marriage proposal), you started doing it for everyone. You swipe your card over and over even for the fighters you barely know, but oddly enough, Toji’s eyes twitch whenever he sees his favorite grape-flavored drink in everyone’s hands.

Offering the Bluetooth connection code to Toji for him to play whatever he wants to on the speakers may be a little serious, but you convince yourself that it really isn’t when you accidentally eavesdrop on Satoru telling him that you totally have it out for him. What you do for Toji, you start to do for everyone; it’s telling with the way your speakers announce whose phone it’s connected to every thirty minutes, but not so much telling as to why Toji’s going extra hard sparring with his handler.

Toji does not care for you — or atleast that’s what you’ve convinced yourself.

Denying his fondness for you has almost been as easy as you tamping down your adoration for him, so much so that when a new guy at the gym randomly comes up to Toji and mentions your name, he responds automatically.

“We’re not together. Go ask…” her out — that’s what Toji’s supposed to say. “I don’t know, actually. I heard she’s taken, I think,” he rectifies himself, exiting the conversation before he could be bombarded with yet another question that revolved around you.

Or another question that would only make him realize that you having eyes for only him doesn’t equate to other people backing off from that mere fact alone.

Toji doesn’t like you, but oddly enough, the fact doesn’t bother you as much lately.

( ♡ ) 

You’re on your last leg of pining for Toji.

The shame of it all is finally getting to you, seeping into your deepest crevices that had thought for the longest time that you had a fighting chance with him. You don’t exactly regret yearning for Toji because after all, it had been in your own accord, no matter the risks you’ve already taken.

Maybe, just maybe, you could only go up from here. 

Maybe, because you and Toji hadn’t been friends to begin with when you pursued him, but on the other hand, it could be your ultimate downfall because perhaps right after he turns you down this time, you won’t be able to come back to anything.

There’s no foundation built between the two of you for you to fall back on, and while that’s surely devastating for you, it would only be a walk in the park for Toji.

You’re risking it all, even if you’re just as sure that nothing will come out of this, because you know you won’t come out unscathed — when Toji finally lets you down this time, harshly like you don’t mean anything to him, you’ll know then that you did everything in your power before you gave up on him.

The omamori in your hands that you’ve planned giving to him is your only salvation, because you get to grip it and remind yourself in real time that Toji’s seething at you.

He’s been stressed since the early morning fighting with his manager who had considered fixing up a match, and despite having resolved it with Choso already even before you came into his eyesight, Toji can’t shake off the anger from his body.

You’re the first person who comes into his space and into his mind, and you’re probably the last for the day (and maybe for an unforeseen amount of time) with the way he snaps at you.

“Y/N, can you just-“ Toji sharply inhales, clenching his jaw so tightly just so he can’t make his voice any louder. “Can you just please fucking stop?”

The omamori that you’re gripping tightly in your hands, the same one that you’ve gotten for blessings and protection for his fight in a month’s time, reminds you that Toji doesn’t want anything to do with you.

“I bet you’re a nice girl and all but I just don’t want you, okay?” he nods breathlessly as if asking you for confirmation. “I don’t like you like that.”

After a year and then some of yearning for Toji, you finally yield.

( ♡ ) 

You don’t come in for work.

Your absence is easily noticed because by this hour, you should’ve been glued to your seat by the front desk, ready to stash Toji’s gym bag under your desk.

He freezes by the entrance, brows knitted in confusion to see that your spot’s empty. He and his bag have been spoiled by you to the point that Toji feels uncharacteristically displaced when he walks past your desk, with his bag and without his drink.

“Huh,” Toji mutters to himself, strolling as casually as he could to the breakroom. He’s already had breakfast and he’ll be willing to have another one if it means lingering around you today, but to his surprise (and his surprise only), you aren’t there. “That’s weird.”

Toji jolts in place when he senses an agitating presence behind him that does little to conceal his proximity behind him, fists immediately clenching when he sees Satoru lean on the wall next to him.

“Jeez. I wonder who could’ve possibly said what to Y/N that made her call in sick today,” he enunciates slowly, enough for the sarcasm to steep in and his words to absorb into Toji’s thick skull.

“What are you-…” Toji interrupts himself when he finally gets what Satoru’s pertaining to, the skip of his chest being telling about the guilt that’s been stewing at the back of his head since last night.

“You weren’t exactly discreet about it, idiot. We were in the breakroom,” Satoru rolls his eyes, standing to his full height when he sees Toji falter. “Even Shiu heard you and he has the most effective noise-cancelling headphones known to man.”

Right on cue, Shiu comes out leisurely out of the room he had been peeking at two seconds ago. It takes only a second for him to register that Toji’s outside for whatever reason (he knows exactly why) before whistling in response, the shit-eating grin on his face apparent for Toji to remember.

“Woof,” he chuckles. “Don’t go biting my head now. I bet you’re a nice guy and all.”

It’s a build-up of things since this morning, and perhaps even from last night if he counts the immediate tinge of regret that stings him when he’s seethed his rejection at you, that truly throws Toji off his game.

Maybe it’s Satoru’s repeated teasing throughout the day and his targeted material of asking whether Toji was hungry or not, right within the timeframe wherein you usually ask him if he wants to join you for a meal.

Maybe it’s Shiu’s incessant mentioning of your name throughout his workout and the convenient reminder that Toji’s working out harder than he usually does, yet there’s no cold towel waiting for him.

But really, whatever it is that just adds up to the already excessive noise in Toji’s head concerning you, he knows now more than ever that absence your absence is noticeable.

His opponent for today’s practice match knows it. The day janitor knows it. Even the delivery guy who’s only been here twice knows it.

Toji simmers in guilt except he doesn’t want to admit it just yet, full well knowing that he would have texted you an apology — if only he had your number.

( ♡ ) 

You come back after three days.

After a year and some months’ worth of excessive reminders from Satoru, you finally take into realization that you don’t have to go to work in-person as often as you do. 

You didn’t know that all it would take for you to slow down and take your much-needed break is Toji by some way (read: rejecting you so harshly that you had been mute on your way home), and you haven’t predicted at all that there’ll be a day wherein you come to work not to pursue him.

Toji immediately notices your presence because even if you were no longer perched by the front desk, it was apparent that you’re already back judging by the way everyone– and literally everyone— in the gym seemed to look at ease somehow.

You’re at the other side of the gym with the light equipment that Toji barely frequents, and it’s the way you stand and smile that makes him pause.

It’s also the way that you smile at Choso that makes Toji announce his presence loudly.

“Let me help you there, buddy,” he claps behind the guy he recognizes as one of his fans (in all fairness, Yuuji isn’t as annoying as all the others who only come here just to get a glimpse of him), startling his already trembling figure.

Toji, without any hesitation yet a lot of frustration, easily grabs the heavy barbell mid-air that Yuuji’s struggling with before dropping it to the ground as roughly as he could.

It’s too light for him. Too easy, even. 

What’s heavier for Toji at the moment is the realization that you’ve given up on him and he has no one to blame but his emotional constipation, and maybe Choso who had pissed him off prior to his tantrum at you.

You did look at Toji and the mini scene he had created, but you immediately avert your eyes as soon as he fixates on yours.

He feels untethered this way, and if the lump on his throat is omniscient of the guilt that he’s feeling yet he’s unable to put into words, Toji wants you to notice him again, tirelessly and shamelessly like you did before.

He’s not in his usual zone, so much so that he barely makes any banter with Shiu who had been talking his ear off in letting Satoru have a go at him.

Toji’s too far out of his concentration, so much so that he agrees to spar with Satoru. 

He’s been pestering him for the longest time to get in the ring with him and Toji had always declined, even if he knows that your friend could take him on to some degree. He’s turned him down again and again for even just a light sparring session, especially when you were around, because he knows that he’s your friend.

He wouldn’t want to hurt Satoru if it hurts you, except now, the difference is that the latter really wants to hurt him and the former is out of his game to the point that he’ll resort to anything just to get your attention.

Toji lands a punch so hard that Satoru audibly croaks, holding his stomach even with the padding on. You’ve always been (read: used to be) the biggest fan of Toji even in practice matches, but now, instead of cheering for him, your eyebrows knit in worry instead–

Except your concern isn’t for him.

“Satoru? You okay?” you immediately come to his side by the ring, eyes inspecting him from head to toe.

Before he could even say that he is and that he’ll get back at Toji with twice the power, Toji pipes in from behind your friend, raising a gloved hand sheepishly.

“I’m not.” 

Toji shamelessly declares his apparent hurt, making everyone nearby audibly gawk at him for his audacity. You only blink at him in the surprise, trying your earnest to see on what part and capacity could Satoru, a non-professional, has possibly injured him.

“H-he punched me by the ear,” he stutters, the lie catching onto his teeth on the way out. The embarrassment of him making up an unbelievable lie is yet to hit, but Toji wouldn’t mind either way.

“What?! I barely even hit you in the face!” Satoru reacts, his face indescribable with the way he swats Toji on the arm in disbelief.

You snort at the scene in amusement, yet your eyes stay fixated on your friend.

“Yeah, yeah. I believe you, Toru.”

( ♡ ) 

True to his word, Satoru sets you up with his friend.

It was amusing, if not mildly infuriating with regards to the universe’s fate for your heart, to learn that Suguru’s the owner of the upscale café you’ve been buying Toji’s drinks from for six out of seven days a week.

It’s actually amusing to the point that you immediately smile whenever Satoru brings up Suguru, even for no particular reason, because if only time and luck had been at your side, you would’ve met him earlier and spared yourself the heartbreak from Toji.

You know to yourself, even in the deepest pits of your stomach that would like to argue otherwise, that you would’ve like Toji regardless even if you met Suguru earlier — what irks you about the whole thing is that fate is twisted.

You’re at standstill with the guy who checks all your boxes and actually likes you back unlike Toji, except this time, you’re content at staying in whatever playful relationship that you and Suguru are in now. 

It’s not a mess per se, but it’s a playful blunder between the two of you wherein you flirt and like each other’s presence, except you’re not in a relationship at all because neither of you are in a rush.

Oddly enough, having each other while not exactly owning the other at same time is enjoyable for the both of you.

For not atleast, you and Suguru are simply fated to be a pair of flirty friends that enjoy each other’s company without having to come home at the end of the night. He has his reservations while you have yours too, but they didn’t mean anything when the other just needs another shoulder present.

Your reservations don’t matter at the moment when there’s an inner turmoil that roots from the base of your chest, simply because Satoru had made the offhand comment that Toji kept asking him about you while you weren’t around.

Your reservations don’t matter at the moment when Suguru comes at the perfect time because he’s not as familiar as the best friend you grew up with, nor is he as fond as the man you’ve spent the better part of a year crushing on and are now wanting to move on from.

“Who’s that?” Toji snaps to no one in particular, the scowl on his face off-putting and intriguing enough for Satoru to notice. He follows Toji’s line of sight, a sly smirk already building up on his face at the prospect of teasing him, even if he knows your real score with Suguru.

“Oh, that’s Suguru. He’s my friend.”

“Didn’t he use to be that defending champion or something?” Toji murmurs, crossing his arms. He vaguely recalls how he once read an article detailing the young player retiring early so he could live a normal life, hearing the name Geto every once in awhile. “Why’s he here?”

“Didn’t you say you never keep tabs on other players?” Satoru snickers, the teasing smirk apparent on his face because of Toji’s sheer bitterness. “Also, it’s my gym. He’s not allowed around here or something?”

“Whatever. Don’t care,” Toji grumbles. “I could take him in a fight. I’d probably destroy him.”

Toji feels unwell, not because he spent a solid ten minutes arguing with a defensive Satoru that keeps insisting his best friend could totally defeat him in a fight, but because throughout that time, not once did you stop smiling at whatever Suguru has to say to you.

Your eyes are practically gleaming and although he loves the sight, there’s this ache that blooms in his chest and spreads all the way to the base of his spine knowing that it’s what you had looked like in front of him for the longest time.

“I bought lunch.”

Toji approaches you as soon as Suguru goes to the bathroom, his smile gentle and hesitant. 

It’s a first for you because you usually treat him. At the start, it was you treating everyone in order not to be transparent with your crush, but there’d been a couple obvious times in which you only exerted efforts for Toji and only him.

Toji doesn’t bother with an excuse of treating everyone or that he had bought too many; he just wants to have lunch with you. “Want some?”

“No, but thank you,” you answer lowly, the shake of your head barely noticeable because you don’t want to look him in the eye.

Toji’s more confused than he is deterred, the bag in his hands suddenly weighing a ton. “But you haven’t left your desk so that means you haven’t eaten yet,” he points out. “Do you not like this type of food? If not, I could just run to the-…”

“There you are!” 

Suguru comes back, and just like that, the crumbs of attention you were giving him had been cleaned up entirely. 

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s gooo, doll. I wanna beat everyone else to the limited specials,” Suguru ignores his obvious beating presence and practically drags you out from your chair (even though you needed little convincing), the hold he has on your wrist making Toji see red briefly.

Toji’s jaw clenches, unconsciously stepping out of the gym not long since you and Suguru rushed out, his sharp eyes following you until you both turn the corner.

It’s the same shop he got your food from.

( ♡ ) 

Toji can’t put a finger to what he’s feeling.

He feels different; the bad and dull kind of different that makes him listless and anxious no matter how much he tries to tire himself out.

He’ll subject himself to an agonizing workout with no breaks in between, but after that, he could only think about the way your bottom lip trembled at his words.

He’ll put himself through one practice match after another without any proper training, and even if Toji wins as he always does, he could only think about how he’s lost all of your affection that he had unconsciously looked forward to the entire time.

Toji finds himself lingering around you and he doesn't know if he could just continue hovering and hovering in this way; in a way that's unlike yours because you were unafraid to stand so close to him, talk to him whenever you please, and trail around him like a lost puppy in the past.

He’s upset and he doesn’t even know why he allows himself to feel that way, when for the longest time, he had convinced himself that he didn’t give you any hope so he had no reason to feel guilty about turning you down; so that he had no problem ignoring you while dealing with his constipation of not apologizing.

Toji’s upset, except he’s too self-aware to the point that it’s only his spite that keeps him awake with regret; he did give you hope. 

He didlinger around you and accept whatever you had to give him despite his lips making out the sentiment that he can never return them.

He did feel guilty at the prospect of turning you down right from the start because if that wasn’t the case, then you would have long given up on him. 

He did feel guilty about rejecting you, especially considering the fact that he wasn’t wholeheartedly sure whenever he refused your love — he still does.

“Toji?” you call out, the sound of your voice immediately startling him with the lights already dim in the breakroom. Toji only frequented the breakroom whenever you were there, and the odd, if not ironic, turn of events makes him smile humorlessly. “Are you drunk? Do you need me to call Satoru?” you ask with genuine concern, tilting your head as you try to assess his figure. “Do you want to go home?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head softly. “It’s jus’ to take the edge off. Probably easier to get a horse drunk than to get metipsy.”

You give a small smile at that, the tremble of your hands barely noticeable with the way Toji’s even more nervous than you at the realization that the two of you are alone with each other.

You’re only here because you forgot your laptop, and Toji’s only here because he doesn’t know what to make of himself because you’ve detached yourself from his routine— from his life, it seems like.

Toji looks down on his full glass, swirling it by his knee. There’s an unspeakable sorrow to his face with something about it resembling you, or atleast the resignation you felt every time Toji turned you down less than gently.

“Why don’t you like me anymore?”

Your eyes widen at the question, the words left in the tip of your tongue drying out the longer that Toji looked at you this way — like he’s stooped down to the level you used to be in, his eyes tired and glassy.

To yearn for Toji is light work. 

Pining after him is as easy as making up workout trivia just to get a reaction from him that isn’t a neutral quirk of his lips or a dismissive tilt of his head. You’re pretty sure you’re going overboard with said lies (the proof being you having to approach Toji without Satoru in earshot just so the latter wouldn’t burst out laughing), but Toji doesn’t seem to think so.

He’s either very clueless and actually believes you, or he’s just tolerant of your “fact” of the day despite being annoyed to death with you.

“Now where the hell did you hear that?” he narrows his eyes at you, the ghost of an amused smirk lingering in his lips the longer you look at him in anticipation for his reaction.

“Just… somewhere! I heard it’s verified information,” you smile, nodding your head to delay the incoming wave of embarrassment that you have for yourself.

“Oh, okay,” Toji parts his lips, nodding tersely. “A reputable news site really said that my grip strength is stronger than a shark’s?”

“Mhmm. You’re the strongest, I bet,” you squeak, the tremble of your hands behind your back coming to a halt when Toji has to excuse himself because Satoru hollered at him from the other side of the gym.

You’re not ready at all to confess to Toji.

Every week, from Monday to Saturday, Toji comes into your best friend’s gym with a scowl on his face as if Satoru personally provoked him one way or another (read: he did), within the window of 9 to 10 AM. Only his left hand would be occupied by his gym bag, which he leaves to you for safekeeping at the front desk instead of the locker room, because Toji would rather punch himself in the gut than to deal with overeager fanboys asking him about his fights.

Additionally, every week from Monday to Saturday, you come to the gym at 7 AM sharp, partially to clock in — but mostly to walk to the expensive coffee shop down the block to buy Toji his drink from your own pocket. Between 9 to 10 AM, Toji saunters into the gym and gives you his bag, to which you take with open arms.

Also, every week, from Monday to Saturday, you make sure that you're Toji’s first interaction of the day.

The routine you have with him (and not the other way around because he’s definitely not as involved with you than you are with him) starts with you giving him a wildcard drink that the barista recommended, then Toji either scrunching his nose in disgust or him humming in something a little bit more pleasant than disgust, then him later thanking you before giving you his standard response.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” he’d say, his brows soft yet scrunched in the middle. (In other words: I don’t like you back so you don’t have to do this for me at all.)

“But I want to,” you’d reply, your smile small yet unperturbed. (In other words: I like you and I want to do this for you regardless, but a large part of me hopes that you’ll like me back.)

It’s no secret that you have a crush on Toji– not at all. Practically everyone in the gym knows how head-over-heels you are for him, and maybe even more than the fighter in question.

Satoru knows it, and he groans to no end whenever you pine for Toji like a little puppy. With each interaction you have with Toji that’s more desperate and maybe even a little more pathetic from your end than usual, Satoru wastes no time before offering to set you up with one of his friends, to which you always deny.

Shiu knows it too, and he tries to bring you up during sparring sessions with Toji that come after seeing your more helpless flirting attempts with the latter. Shiu’s actively trying to help you, Toji, and himself in the process because he can’t tell just how much secondhand embarrassment he can take before exploding.

The occasional opponents for practice matches know it. The night janitor knows it. God, even the delivery guy who’s only seen you ask Toji if he wanted water once knows it too.

Toji doesn’t like you, and while you know that fact wholeheartedly, you’ve come to realize that taking care of him in your own way is what completes your day even without getting anything in return. You know you’re bound to be sick of the one-sided yearning anyway, but while you’re not sick of fawning over Toji, you want to make the most of it.

You want to make the most of it until defeat sinks in.

Toji does not care for you — or atleast that’s what he tells everyone.

“I don’t have a crush on her. Never did,” Toji would say to Shiu every time they sparred, his words automatically flowing as soon as he sees the slightest hint of a smirk on his handler’s face. Shiu would always wave him away as usual (and that earns him an ungloved and unrestricted punch on the shoulder out of the ring), and it only makes Toji pout because even his friend doesn’t believe him.

“I don’t like girls who are so obvious,” he would mutter under his breath whenever Satoru nudges him to say thank you when you hold out a clean towel for him even if he didn’t ask. Toji appreciates the cold, fragrant, and personally-delivered-by-you towel anyway, but not enough to smack Satoru on the face with it.

“I don’t know why you’d think that,” Toji, without fail, would reply to anyone in the gym who mistakes him as your boyfriend. He’s gotten shameless with it to the point that he doesn’t mind if you hear it, but also without fail, he feels a little guilty every time.

Toji shouldn’t exactly feel guilty for not liking you back because he doesn’t owe it to you in the first place — or atleast that’s how he reasons with himself.

.

.

.

“I’m gonna stop liking him in a week, Toru. I swear. Cold turkey and everything.” 

“Yup. Sure you will, sport,” Satoru snorts at your drunken admission, kicking your knee lightly to stop you from your sulking.

He feels a little responsible for your feelings towards Toji because if only he didn’t introduce you to him, none of this would’ve happened in the first place. 

You would’ve still been his sole accountant for his gym who only dropped in every once in awhile to help manage the place whenever it was short-staffed and not this; not the multi-tasking beast that you are who’s not only his accountant, but this cheery and energized all-rounder gym employee you he didn’t ask you to be.

“No, no. I’m serious this time,” you mutter, your cheek squished to the table so you can limit yourself from saying anything else that could explain to Satoru why you were hellbent in accepting his offer to drink tonight. “I feel like a fool running after Toji.”

“I mean, I wouldn’t exactly use the word-…”

“I know you think it.”

“Fine. I do think it, but you know I mean well!” Satoru surrenders, ruffling your hair as he takes note of keeping the windows down and driving as slowly as he legally could when he takes you home tonight. “You just aren’t Toji’s type, but that’s not a bad thing, y’know? 

There’s so much more on your mind, but you’re not in the mood to think of Toji any longer because the moment you do, you’ll succumb to him again.

You want to surrender, completely and irrevocably this time, but not without the final push so you could say that you did everything and you’ll have no regrets if Toji turns you down again — or rather, when Toji turns you down again.

“If it doesn’t work out,” you hiccup, burying your face to the bulk of Satoru’s sweater so you could smell the scent of clean laundry on him instead of imagining that you’re smelling Toji’s perfume out of nowhere in the packed club. “Go set me up with your friend.”

( ♡ ) 

Toji’s a little perplexed to see you at the front desk this morning.

After all, it was only last night when he saw you at the club, looking completely spent with your head buried in Satoru’s shoulder. Toji had only nodded to him when their eyes locked, mouthing that he’s with his friends so he can’t hang back with him, and Satoru let him go without any annoying remarks because he just gestures to your sleeping figure wordlessly.

Weirdly enough, Toji didn’t get to enjoy himself last night because his eyes kept wandering to your booth.

What’s even weirder now is that not only did you come to work looking fully recovered, but Toji also hangs back for a fraction of a minute right after giving you his duffel bag.

“Hey,” he greets, smiling tightly as he tries to figure out internally on why his feet wouldn’t move at all.

“Hi, Toji,” you reply back, staying still on your seat as you try to make conversation with him, but oddly enough, no ridiculous trivia could come out of your lips.

All it takes is Satoru whistling from the breakroom for you to snap into your senses, and for Toji to realize what was missing.

You have no drink for him today.

He’s not that bothered because that means he’s not subjected to whatever overly sweet or bitter monstrosity you give him, and that could only mean that he’ll be able to skip giving you his signature rejection.

It’s a good thing for you to start giving up on him, he convinces himself.

Toji tolerates you in a way that’s unbeknownst even to you, because in the first place, you’ve convinced yourself that the crush you have on the MMA fighter isn’t that serious.

Swiping your employee card to get him a free energy drink isn’t that serious in your own perspective, but when you overheard the conversation awhile ago between Toji and Shiu (with the latter convincing him that free energy drinks equated to a marriage proposal), you started doing it for everyone. You swipe your card over and over even for the fighters you barely know, but oddly enough, Toji’s eyes twitch whenever he sees his favorite grape-flavored drink in everyone’s hands.

Offering the Bluetooth connection code to Toji for him to play whatever he wants to on the speakers may be a little serious, but you convince yourself that it really isn’t when you accidentally eavesdrop on Satoru telling him that you totally have it out for him. What you do for Toji, you start to do for everyone; it’s telling with the way your speakers announce whose phone it’s connected to every thirty minutes, but not so much telling as to why Toji’s going extra hard sparring with his handler.

Toji does not care for you — or atleast that’s what you’ve convinced yourself.

Denying his fondness for you has almost been as easy as you tamping down your adoration for him, so much so that when a new guy at the gym randomly comes up to Toji and mentions your name, he responds automatically.

“We’re not together. Go ask…” her out — that’s what Toji’s supposed to say. “I don’t know, actually. I heard she’s taken, I think,” he rectifies himself, exiting the conversation before he could be bombarded with yet another question that revolved around you.

Or another question that would only make him realize that you having eyes for only him doesn’t equate to other people backing off from that mere fact alone.

Toji doesn’t like you, but oddly enough, the fact doesn’t bother you as much lately.

( ♡ ) 

You’re on your last leg of pining for Toji.

The shame of it all is finally getting to you, seeping into your deepest crevices that had thought for the longest time that you had a fighting chance with him. You don’t exactly regret yearning for Toji because after all, it had been in your own accord, no matter the risks you’ve already taken.

Maybe, just maybe, you could only go up from here. 

Maybe, because you and Toji hadn’t been friends to begin with when you pursued him, but on the other hand, it could be your ultimate downfall because perhaps right after he turns you down this time, you won’t be able to come back to anything.

There’s no foundation built between the two of you for you to fall back on, and while that’s surely devastating for you, it would only be a walk in the park for Toji.

You’re risking it all, even if you’re just as sure that nothing will come out of this, because you know you won’t come out unscathed — when Toji finally lets you down this time, harshly like you don’t mean anything to him, you’ll know then that you did everything in your power before you gave up on him.

The omamori in your hands that you’ve planned giving to him is your only salvation, because you get to grip it and remind yourself in real time that Toji’s seething at you.

He’s been stressed since the early morning fighting with his manager who had considered fixing up a match, and despite having resolved it with Choso already even before you came into his eyesight, Toji can’t shake off the anger from his body.

You’re the first person who comes into his space and into his mind, and you’re probably the last for the day (and maybe for an unforeseen amount of time) with the way he snaps at you.

“Y/N, can you just-“ Toji sharply inhales, clenching his jaw so tightly just so he can’t make his voice any louder. “Can you just please fucking stop?”

The omamori that you’re gripping tightly in your hands, the same one that you’ve gotten for blessings and protection for his fight in a month’s time, reminds you that Toji doesn’t want anything to do with you.

“I bet you’re a nice girl and all but I just don’t want you, okay?” he nods breathlessly as if asking you for confirmation. “I don’t like you like that.”

After a year and then some of yearning for Toji, you finally yield.

( ♡ ) 

You don’t come in for work.

Your absence is easily noticed because by this hour, you should’ve been glued to your seat by the front desk, ready to stash Toji’s gym bag under your desk.

He freezes by the entrance, brows knitted in confusion to see that your spot’s empty. He and his bag have been spoiled by you to the point that Toji feels uncharacteristically displaced when he walks past your desk, with his bag and without his drink.

“Huh,” Toji mutters to himself, strolling as casually as he could to the breakroom. He’s already had breakfast and he’ll be willing to have another one if it means lingering around you today, but to his surprise (and his surprise only), you aren’t there. “That’s weird.”

Toji jolts in place when he senses an agitating presence behind him that does little to conceal his proximity behind him, fists immediately clenching when he sees Satoru lean on the wall next to him.

“Jeez. I wonder who could’ve possibly said what to Y/N that made her call in sick today,” he enunciates slowly, enough for the sarcasm to steep in and his words to absorb into Toji’s thick skull.

“What are you-…” Toji interrupts himself when he finally gets what Satoru’s pertaining to, the skip of his chest being telling about the guilt that’s been stewing at the back of his head since last night.

“You weren’t exactly discreet about it, idiot. We were in the breakroom,” Satoru rolls his eyes, standing to his full height when he sees Toji falter. “Even Shiu heard you and he has the most effective noise-cancelling headphones known to man.”

Right on cue, Shiu comes out leisurely out of the room he had been peeking at two seconds ago. It takes only a second for him to register that Toji’s outside for whatever reason (he knows exactly why) before whistling in response, the shit-eating grin on his face apparent for Toji to remember.

“Woof,” he chuckles. “Don’t go biting my head now. I bet you’re a nice guy and all.”

It’s a build-up of things since this morning, and perhaps even from last night if he counts the immediate tinge of regret that stings him when he’s seethed his rejection at you, that truly throws Toji off his game.

Maybe it’s Satoru’s repeated teasing throughout the day and his targeted material of asking whether Toji was hungry or not, right within the timeframe wherein you usually ask him if he wants to join you for a meal.

Maybe it’s Shiu’s incessant mentioning of your name throughout his workout and the convenient reminder that Toji’s working out harder than he usually does, yet there’s no cold towel waiting for him.

But really, whatever it is that just adds up to the already excessive noise in Toji’s head concerning you, he knows now more than ever that absence your absence is noticeable.

His opponent for today’s practice match knows it. The day janitor knows it. Even the delivery guy who’s only been here twice knows it.

Toji simmers in guilt except he doesn’t want to admit it just yet, full well knowing that he would have texted you an apology — if only he had your number.

( ♡ ) 

You come back after three days.

After a year and some months’ worth of excessive reminders from Satoru, you finally take into realization that you don’t have to go to work in-person as often as you do. 

You didn’t know that all it would take for you to slow down and take your much-needed break is Toji by some way (read: rejecting you so harshly that you had been mute on your way home), and you haven’t predicted at all that there’ll be a day wherein you come to work not to pursue him.

Toji immediately notices your presence because even if you were no longer perched by the front desk, it was apparent that you’re already back judging by the way everyone– and literally everyone— in the gym seemed to look at ease somehow.

You’re at the other side of the gym with the light equipment that Toji barely frequents, and it’s the way you stand and smile that makes him pause.

It’s also the way that you smile at Choso that makes Toji announce his presence loudly.

“Let me help you there, buddy,” he claps behind the guy he recognizes as one of his fans (in all fairness, Yuuji isn’t as annoying as all the others who only come here just to get a glimpse of him), startling his already trembling figure.

Toji, without any hesitation yet a lot of frustration, easily grabs the heavy barbell mid-air that Yuuji’s struggling with before dropping it to the ground as roughly as he could.

It’s too light for him. Too easy, even. 

What’s heavier for Toji at the moment is the realization that you’ve given up on him and he has no one to blame but his emotional constipation, and maybe Choso who had pissed him off prior to his tantrum at you.

You did look at Toji and the mini scene he had created, but you immediately avert your eyes as soon as he fixates on yours.

He feels untethered this way, and if the lump on his throat is omniscient of the guilt that he’s feeling yet he’s unable to put into words, Toji wants you to notice him again, tirelessly and shamelessly like you did before.

He’s not in his usual zone, so much so that he barely makes any banter with Shiu who had been talking his ear off in letting Satoru have a go at him.

Toji’s too far out of his concentration, so much so that he agrees to spar with Satoru. 

He’s been pestering him for the longest time to get in the ring with him and Toji had always declined, even if he knows that your friend could take him on to some degree. He’s turned him down again and again for even just a light sparring session, especially when you were around, because he knows that he’s your friend.

He wouldn’t want to hurt Satoru if it hurts you, except now, the difference is that the latter really wants to hurt him and the former is out of his game to the point that he’ll resort to anything just to get your attention.

Toji lands a punch so hard that Satoru audibly croaks, holding his stomach even with the padding on. You’ve always been (read: used to be) the biggest fan of Toji even in practice matches, but now, instead of cheering for him, your eyebrows knit in worry instead–

Except your concern isn’t for him.

“Satoru? You okay?” you immediately come to his side by the ring, eyes inspecting him from head to toe.

Before he could even say that he is and that he’ll get back at Toji with twice the power, Toji pipes in from behind your friend, raising a gloved hand sheepishly.

“I’m not.” 

Toji shamelessly declares his apparent hurt, making everyone nearby audibly gawk at him for his audacity. You only blink at him in the surprise, trying your earnest to see on what part and capacity could Satoru, a non-professional, has possibly injured him.

“H-he punched me by the ear,” he stutters, the lie catching onto his teeth on the way out. The embarrassment of him making up an unbelievable lie is yet to hit, but Toji wouldn’t mind either way.

“What?! I barely even hit you in the face!” Satoru reacts, his face indescribable with the way he swats Toji on the arm in disbelief.

You snort at the scene in amusement, yet your eyes stay fixated on your friend.

“Yeah, yeah. I believe you, Toru.”

( ♡ ) 

True to his word, Satoru sets you up with his friend.

It was amusing, if not mildly infuriating with regards to the universe’s fate for your heart, to learn that Suguru’s the owner of the upscale café you’ve been buying Toji’s drinks from for six out of seven days a week.

It’s actually amusing to the point that you immediately smile whenever Satoru brings up Suguru, even for no particular reason, because if only time and luck had been at your side, you would’ve met him earlier and spared yourself the heartbreak from Toji.

You know to yourself, even in the deepest pits of your stomach that would like to argue otherwise, that you would’ve like Toji regardless even if you met Suguru earlier — what irks you about the whole thing is that fate is twisted.

You’re at standstill with the guy who checks all your boxes and actually likes you back unlike Toji, except this time, you’re content at staying in whatever playful relationship that you and Suguru are in now. 

It’s not a mess per se, but it’s a playful blunder between the two of you wherein you flirt and like each other’s presence, except you’re not in a relationship at all because neither of you are in a rush.

Oddly enough, having each other while not exactly owning the other at same time is enjoyable for the both of you.

For not atleast, you and Suguru are simply fated to be a pair of flirty friends that enjoy each other’s company without having to come home at the end of the night. He has his reservations while you have yours too, but they didn’t mean anything when the other just needs another shoulder present.

Your reservations don’t matter at the moment when there’s an inner turmoil that roots from the base of your chest, simply because Satoru had made the offhand comment that Toji kept asking him about you while you weren’t around.

Your reservations don’t matter at the moment when Suguru comes at the perfect time because he’s not as familiar as the best friend you grew up with, nor is he as fond as the man you’ve spent the better part of a year crushing on and are now wanting to move on from.

“Who’s that?” Toji snaps to no one in particular, the scowl on his face off-putting and intriguing enough for Satoru to notice. He follows Toji’s line of sight, a sly smirk already building up on his face at the prospect of teasing him, even if he knows your real score with Suguru.

“Oh, that’s Suguru. He’s my friend.”

“Didn’t he use to be that defending champion or something?” Toji murmurs, crossing his arms. He vaguely recalls how he once read an article detailing the young player retiring early so he could live a normal life, hearing the name Geto every once in awhile. “Why’s he here?”

“Didn’t you say you never keep tabs on other players?” Satoru snickers, the teasing smirk apparent on his face because of Toji’s sheer bitterness. “Also, it’s my gym. He’s not allowed around here or something?”

“Whatever. Don’t care,” Toji grumbles. “I could take him in a fight. I’d probably destroy him.”

Toji feels unwell, not because he spent a solid ten minutes arguing with a defensive Satoru that keeps insisting his best friend could totally defeat him in a fight, but because throughout that time, not once did you stop smiling at whatever Suguru has to say to you.

Your eyes are practically gleaming and although he loves the sight, there’s this ache that blooms in his chest and spreads all the way to the base of his spine knowing that it’s what you had looked like in front of him for the longest time.

“I bought lunch.”

Toji approaches you as soon as Suguru goes to the bathroom, his smile gentle and hesitant. 

It’s a first for you because you usually treat him. At the start, it was you treating everyone in order not to be transparent with your crush, but there’d been a couple obvious times in which you only exerted efforts for Toji and only him.

Toji doesn’t bother with an excuse of treating everyone or that he had bought too many; he just wants to have lunch with you. “Want some?”

“No, but thank you,” you answer lowly, the shake of your head barely noticeable because you don’t want to look him in the eye.

Toji’s more confused than he is deterred, the bag in his hands suddenly weighing a ton. “But you haven’t left your desk so that means you haven’t eaten yet,” he points out. “Do you not like this type of food? If not, I could just run to the-…”

“There you are!” 

Suguru comes back, and just like that, the crumbs of attention you were giving him had been cleaned up entirely. 

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s gooo, doll. I wanna beat everyone else to the limited specials,” Suguru ignores his obvious beating presence and practically drags you out from your chair (even though you needed little convincing), the hold he has on your wrist making Toji see red briefly.

Toji’s jaw clenches, unconsciously stepping out of the gym not long since you and Suguru rushed out, his sharp eyes following you until you both turn the corner.

It’s the same shop he got your food from.

( ♡ ) 

Toji can’t put a finger to what he’s feeling.

He feels different; the bad and dull kind of different that makes him listless and anxious no matter how much he tries to tire himself out.

He’ll subject himself to an agonizing workout with no breaks in between, but after that, he could only think about the way your bottom lip trembled at his words.

He’ll put himself through one practice match after another without any proper training, and even if Toji wins as he always does, he could only think about how he’s lost all of your affection that he had unconsciously looked forward to the entire time.

Toji finds himself lingering around you and he doesn't know if he could just continue hovering and hovering in this way; in a way that's unlike yours because you were unafraid to stand so close to him, talk to him whenever you please, and trail around him like a lost puppy in the past.

He’s upset and he doesn’t even know why he allows himself to feel that way, when for the longest time, he had convinced himself that he didn’t give you any hope so he had no reason to feel guilty about turning you down; so that he had no problem ignoring you while dealing with his constipation of not apologizing.

Toji’s upset, except he’s too self-aware to the point that it’s only his spite that keeps him awake with regret; he did give you hope. 

He didlinger around you and accept whatever you had to give him despite his lips making out the sentiment that he can never return them.

He did feel guilty at the prospect of turning you down right from the start because if that wasn’t the case, then you would have long given up on him. 

He did feel guilty about rejecting you, especially considering the fact that he wasn’t wholeheartedly sure whenever he refused your love — he still does.

“Toji?” you call out, the sound of your voice immediately startling him with the lights already dim in the breakroom. Toji only frequented the breakroom whenever you were there, and the odd, if not ironic, turn of events makes him smile humorlessly. “Are you drunk? Do you need me to call Satoru?” you ask with genuine concern, tilting your head as you try to assess his figure. “Do you want to go home?”

“Nah,” he shakes his head softly. “It’s jus’ to take the edge off. Probably easier to get a horse drunk than to get metipsy.”

You give a small smile at that, the tremble of your hands barely noticeable with the way Toji’s even more nervous than you at the realization that the two of you are alone with each other.

You’re only here because you forgot your laptop, and Toji’s only here because he doesn’t know what to make of himself because you’ve detached yourself from his routine— from his life, it seems like.

Toji looks down on his full glass, swirling it by his knee. There’s an unspeakable sorrow to his face with something about it resembling you, or atleast the resignation you felt every time Toji turned you down less than gently.

“Why don’t you like me anymore?”

Your eyes widen at the question, the words left in the tip of your tongue drying out the longer that Toji looked at you this way — like he’s stooped down to the level you used to be in, his eyes tired and glassy.