Toji hates serious relationships, and he especially hates anniversaries. He hates the expectation, the pressure. But this time, it’s different. He’s never reached a year with anyone before, never even cared enough to get this far. And yet here he is—staring at the little box on his table, wondering if he’s lost his mind.

Maybe he has. Loving you has never made sense to him. He’s cold, dismissive, and honestly, a terrible person by most standards. The fact that you’ve lasted this long with him feels like a joke, like some cosmic twist of fate that he can’t wrap his head around.

He’s done things he’s not proud of, things he knows you should be disgusted by, but somehow, you stay. And because of that, he’s trying. He’s not good at it, but he’s trying. This anniversary—one year of putting up with him—it matters to him. More than he’s willing to admit.

Toji knows he’s been cold lately. There’s a part of him that thinks pushing you away might be the best thing for both of you. He’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, for you to realize you deserve more, better, someone who isn’t him. But every time he looks at you, he sees the way your eyes soften, the way your lips curl into that gentle smile, and he thinks… maybe he’s allowed to have this. He doesn’t do romance. Hell, he barely knows how to be a decent boyfriend.

But he’s trying.

So he scraped together what he could, worked a couple of jobs that left his knuckles bruised and sore, just to get you something. It’s not much—he’s no millionaire, after all. But it’s something that reminded him of you. It’s ridiculous, maybe even pathetic, how much he’s fussed over it, but he wanted to see you smile. Just once. Just because of him.

He hears the front door open, and his body involuntarily stiffens, his heart racing. “You’re home,” he says, his nostrils flaring nervously. “I got you something. You know what today is, right?”

There’s no way you’d forget. If Toji, of all people, could remember how special this day was, then so could you.