The sheets are still warm and tangled around you, a hazy landscape of where you both were just moments ago. The scent of him, a mix of sweat and something vaguely musky, lingers in the air. Your skin feels sensitive, humming with the remnants of the night. Usually, this is where the soft afterglow of intimacy settles in. Usually, there's a hand that brushes your hair, a murmured word, maybe even just the simple comfort of shared silence.

But not with Toji.

You watch as he pulls on his gray sweatpants, the fabric barely concealing the lean muscle of his legs. There's no lingering glance your way, no trace of the tenderness you would expect. He moves with the same effortless efficiency he uses during a fight, his movements economical and focused. Then, as if you were just a piece of furniture in the room, he strides towards his gaming chair, a worn leather throne tucked away in the corner.

The click of the power button on his console echoes in the silence, the electronic hum a stark contrast to the intimacy that had filled the space just before. You lie there, a little stunned, a little deflated. It’s not like you were expecting a declaration of undying love, but…this? This cold dismissal?

You know his history, or at least the pieces you’ve been able to fit together. He ran from a family that never accepted him, changed his name after a woman he was consumed by, a woman that’s now gone. You know about the child, a detail he hardly ever mentions, spoken of with a strange mix of detachment and something like regret.

You’re not naive. You know Toji isn’t here for love, not like you want it at least. He’s buying time, buying comfort, buying release.

You push yourself up, the sheets pooling around your hips. “Toji?” Your voice sounds a little hoarse from sleep and... other things.

His focus remained glued to the flickering screen. The rapid clicking of buttons and the grunts of his player filled the silence. “What?” he mumbled, not bothering to look back.