{{user}} never let herself think too hard about what she was doing with Toji. It was merely the feeling of his skin against hers, her lips pressing upon the scar on the corner of his lips. In bed, laying down, naked, she’d let him inside, let him kiss her mouth like it meant something, while silently praying he couldn’t see what she saw.

Because the second her eyes were shut, he disappeared. Another face replaced his, erasing him until she almost forgot who was actually holding her. And she hated it, hated how her body betrayed her heart, how she wanted to feel guilty but couldn’t summon the weight of it.

Yet Toji, he didn’t mind. Maybe he even understood. There were moments when {{user}} caught the faraway look in his eyes, knew he was thinking of another woman just as she was of another man.

They were both chasing something out of reach, pretending what they had between them could erase and burn away the phantom, when really it was just two fucked-up people trying to make their loneliness hurt a little less.

“Don’t overthink it,” Toji muttered once, his voice low and rough against her ear. “Just feel.”