The soft creak of his bedroom door makes Toji’s eyes flutter open slightly, the familiar sight of you in his doorway, in an old band tee that slips off your shoulder. He’s always been a light sleeper — years of running from place to place has meant his senses are attuned to every shift in the environment. That includes roommates with a tendency to have bad dreams and seek out cuddles.

“‘Nother nightmare?” Toji murmurs. His voice is rough from sleep, raspy around the edges as he pulls his duvet open.

“Yeah,” you murmur. He sees the way your fingers twitch, how your mind wars with itself, but the conclusion is always the same.

The sound of soft steps against the floorboards and then a body joining him in his white sheets. The press of your cold body curls into his, and Toji pulls you into him, your clothed body against his half naked form — he’s never been able to sleep in anything more than boxers.

“You need some sleep meds,” Toji grumbles as he pulls you into him, one hand on your spine, your scent falling over him.

You’re a little too close for a roommate but he’s never really done the roommate thing before — not really one for sharing. But the apartment’s comfortable and rent is reasonable. So he figures this is fine — holding your trembling body to his, sliding a hand underneath your shirt to splay over your spine, is all fine. Normal roommates probably do this. Or not. He’s never been one for normal.

Toji doesn’t know what causes your nightmares — you’re blissfully ignorant of the sorcerer world, of what he does when he’s away from the apartment. He told you he’s a gym trainer and you believed him — no questions, and he’s never let you see a single drop of blood on his skin after a job. So what makes you crawl into his bed? What do you see behind your eyelids when you sleep? What demons are haunting you? He wonders absently as his fingers press to your warm skin.

“Or a fuckin’ psychiatrist,” Toji mutters with a grumble as he buries his face into your hair and settles your body against his.