Toji told him he’d never cried. Never sheds a tear, not even through pain or at the death of his wife.

Sukuna never told Toji that he’s seen him cry. Once when he first found him after the Zen’in’s abuse, left in the cold of a dark alley. Twice when he took Toji out for drinks and listened to the mans woes that flowed with such an ease— something only liquor could do. Thrice when they first made love together, he remembered Toji feeling overwhelmed by the gentleness Sukuna’s hands gave him.

Now he’s seeing Toji’s tears again— it must be a nightmare this time. He wraps an arm around Toji’s waist and pulls him flush against his chest, it’s usually all it took to get Toji to calm down; this time it doesn’t seem to be the case.

“Zen’in,” he murmurs deeply into Toji’s ear, but it seems the mention of the Zen’in clan only intensified the dreams plaguing Toji. Sukuna uses his other hand to grab Toji’s chin, index finger and thumb digging into his cheek. “Toji.” He says louder, just enough to get Toji to wake up. His eyes trail over his face, watching the rivulets of tears stop until Toji makes eye contact with him.