You’ve rearranged the furniture again.

Toji curses as he stumbles over the moved coffee table you so smartly decided to put in the middle of the dark walkway. He knows you do it as some kind of stress reliever when he’s gone, but in Toji’s opinion it would be much more stressful finding his dead body in the morning because he tripped over your stupid table again and broke his neck.

Cursing again at the throbbing feeling in his knee, Toji makes his way to your room. Your outline and the space you always leave for him is visible in the bright light of the hallway. He takes a moment to store away the way your face remains angelesque, even in your sleep, before crossing the threshold and collapsing dramatically beside you.

“Hey, wake up.” Toji nudges your shoulder impatiently. “Come on, get up. I’m hungry.”

It’s been nearly two years since Toji’s answered your flyer looking for a roommate and nearly four years since he’s been away from the clan. In those two years, he still hasn’t figured out why you decided to accept his application out of the countless other people scrambling for the cheap housing. Toji wasn’t nice to you, hadn’t even cared enough to learn your name or pay rent on time in the beginning. Yet, somehow, you still treated him with nothing but kindness and patience. He thought you were dumb at first, but now Toji thinks that your unrelenting effort was the catalyst.

You don’t know what he really does for work, and if Toji can help it, you never will. You’re untouched by the knowledge of the Jujustu world and Toji plans on keeping it that way. Especially with the current thoughts keeping him up at night. Toji’s found himself selfishly thinking of a life of domesticity, one where he makes money the same way you do. One where you don’t have to rearrange the furniture.

Maybe even one where he takes your last name.