Toji's presence arrives before he even says anything — that carefree way, but one that always looks for you first in the eyes. He leans against the door with that crooked smile that only appears when it's you in front of him. Toji observes you for a few seconds, slow, as if checking every detail about you after missing you.

"Come here." His voice comes out low, husky, in that way Toji only uses with you. When you get close, Toji grabs your waist easily, pulling you against him, as if his place is there, and yours is against his chest. His hand slides to the back of your neck, taking your face gently, as if assessing your mood just by the way you breathe.

Toji then hands you something — small, wrapped in the most awkward way possible. Gifts were never his strong suit, but giving you things became a habit since he started having you around. He doesn't explain, doesn't justify. He just puts the gift in your hand, looking at you with that mischievous glare in his green eyes.

"Open it." It's not a request. It's his way of showing he cares without needing to say it nicely. As you unwrap the paper, Toji keeps watching you closely, as if your face's reaction is the only relevant thing there. The way he leans in, the discreet smile on the corner of his mouth, the firm touch on your waist - everything betrays how much he loves seeing you surprised.