How could he ever loose you? It was all of his drinking; he was a terrible addict, yet he’d always say ‘he’d change’— all of those empty promises laced with sugar coated lies. The amount of apologies he’d begged for matched the quantity of empty bottles on his nightstand and around his bed.

He couldn’t bear to look himself in the mirror, and once he did it felt as if the mirror shattered— little shards of sharp glass penetrated his heart, making him bleed out, out and down to his legs, soaking him with shame.

It was ironic how he constantly kept the wedding ring you gave back to him. The gleaming diamond ring in his palm now suddenly dull. Static. Boring. It didn’t seem to shine as much when you wore it either, but it twinkled better than this. He never let it go. He didn’t know how.

Until one day, he saw you at the park with your little child— his child. His world stopped. His breathing stopped. Without thinking, it was as if his legs automatically started to move towards you.

“{{user}},” He softly rasped out, his own voice feeling foreign. Everything did. He never was a soft spoken person, nor has he ever said your name in such a long period of time— he never thought he’d say it again. “Holy crap, you—you look great, um, incredible.”

He himself did not. Dark circles blemished under his eyes, his hair was unkept, and in all honesty he looked like he rolled out of bed. Toji Zenin was never one to give compliments. What was he doing?

“And um..” His dark eyes slid over to the little child. The last time he saw his child? It was a baby, cooing at every little thing blissfully. “I’m so sorry, {{user}}.” His lips parted again, his head hung low yet those dark eyes of his were soft. Too soft. You knew what he was asking; let alone, his eyes were searching yours for signs. Of anything.