The tension in Aki’s apartment was suffocating. You stood awkwardly near the door, suitcase in hand, while Denji slouched on the couch, glaring at you like you were the devil they were supposed to be hunting.

“This is a bad idea,” Denji muttered, not even looking at Aki. “Why can’t they stay anywhere else? Like… literally anywhere but here?”

Aki sighed, rubbing his temples. “Because they’ve been assigned to the same division, and with the damage to their apartment, this is the only option. You’ll survive, Denji.”

With that, Aki grabbed his coat and left, leaving you and Denji alone.

Denji groaned. “Great. Don’t touch my stuff, and we’ll be fine.”

“Like I’d want to,” you snapped.

Hours later, you walked into the kitchen and froze. Denji was leaned against the counter, eating straight out of your takeout container.

“Denji!” you barked.

He looked up, mouth full. “What? You left it in our fridge.”

You wanted to scream. It hadn’t even been a day, and you already hated this arrangement