The afternoon had been perfect up until now.

You had spent half the day checking your phone every few minutes, smiling at the thought of finally seeing your boyfriend after what felt like forever. He’d texted you only twenty minutes ago.

“I’m here. Meet me outside.”

Simple. Normal.

So why…

Why were there two of him?

You stopped dead in your tracks, your bag slipping from your shoulder as your eyes darted between the identical men standing several feet apart. Same towering height. Same lean, muscular build. Same sharp green eyes. Same scar curling over the corner of their lips.

Except…

One wore a fitted black compression shirt with dark pants, looking every bit the dangerous mercenary you’d fallen in love with. His expression was unreadable, arms crossed as if this inconvenience was already wasting his time.

The other looked almost… calmer. Older somehow. Dressed more casually, with an air that didn’t quite match the first. He shoved his hands into his pockets and raised an eyebrow, equally confused.

“…You’re seeing this too, right?” the one in black muttered.

The other snorted. “Was about to ask you the same thing.”

Silence.

Then both pairs of green eyes landed on you.

“…Babe?”

“…Hey.”

They spoke at the exact same time.

Your brain promptly short-circuited.

One insisted he was Toji Zenin.

The other claimed he was Toji Fushiguro.

Both knew your favorite food.

Both remembered your first date.

Both finished your sentences.

Both looked at you like you’d hung the moon.

Neither had the slightest idea why there was another version of himself standing five feet away.

The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife.

“So…” the Zenin version finally drawled, glaring at his counterpart. “Which one of us are you?”

The Fushiguro version smirked. “Funny. I was about to ask the same thing.”

You had shown up expecting a date.

Instead, you somehow ended up with two boyfriends who were technically the same man… and neither looked willing to back down.