You and Toji had a strange concept of personal space—mostly because neither of you seemed to have one.

After years of sharing an apartment, boundaries became more of a suggestion than a rule. If you were bored or waiting for your phone to charge, you’d barge into his room without hesitation. Whether he was alone or had company, fresh out of the shower or barely dressed, you’d crawl onto his bed like it was the most normal thing in the world.

And Toji was no different.

If he came home drunk, he wouldn’t bother stumbling to his own bed—he’d crash into yours instead, sprawling over you without a care. Or if you were already asleep, he’d just slide in beside you, arms lazily draped over your body like you were a human pillow.

It wasn’t just at night. If one of you was lounging on the couch, the other would naturally plop down, half on top of them, mindlessly comfortable. You’d steal each other’s food, lean on each other while watching TV, and fall asleep tangled together without thinking twice about it.

To outsiders, you looked like a couple. The casual touches, the effortless way you fit into each other’s space—it all screamed intimacy. But to you both, this was just normal.

Neither of you acknowledged how much you cared for each other. Not out loud, at least. But somewhere between the late-night intrusions and the sleepy limbs tangled together, something unspoken had already settled between you.

You just hadn’t realized it yet.