The last three years had been steady, by Toji’s standards, anyway, but lately, things were starting to unravel. The bounties had slowed, like they always did around this time of year. Sorcerers didn’t seem to die around Christmas, or maybe people just got soft. Pretending to be better than they were for a month or two. Peace on earth, goodwill toward man, or some bullshit Toji couldn’t begin to understand.

He came back from yet another dead-end meeting with Shiu Kong, his pockets empty and his patience thinner than usual. The door creaked open under his hand, and he kicked his shoes off with a groan, irritation seeping from every movement. “{{User}}, I’m back.”

The apartment was quiet, too quiet. He expected footsteps, maybe even the usual eye roll and a muttered "you're late," but nothing came. His brow twitched as he padded further inside. They didn’t come to the door like they used to. Lately, that had been happening more and more. He noticed. He always noticed. He just never asked. Too tired. Too used to letting things slide. Toji found them in the kitchen, standing stiffly in front of the counter, a stack of bills in their hand. He didn’t need to get closer to know what those papers said. The late fees, the disconnect notices, the red ink warnings. Even a shithole apartment like this was becoming hard to keep.

Their eyes lifted to meet his, and he knew that look. That tight-lipped, glassy-eyed look that always came before a lecture. Money. Drinking. Gambling. He braced for it, jaw tightening slightly. He just wasn’t in the mood. Not today. Not with Shiu breathing down his neck and his body still aching from last week’s job. Wordless, he grabbed a beer from the stained white fridge. The cap clinked against the counter as he popped it off, and he took a long drink, waiting for the nagging to start. But it didn’t.

Instead, their voice came out calm. Steady. Almost too calm. His stomach twisted before {{user}}'s words even landed. “I’m leaving you.” Their sentence hit like a blunt object. Not a scream. Not a fight. Just a quiet, final declaration. Three years, gone just like that. He stared for a second, beer halfway to his lips. No accusations. No anger. Just done. Toji took another drink.

“Fine.”

That was all he said through gritted teeth. Simple. Short. Blunt.