Toji had always been protective of you. At first, it was easy to mistake his behavior for affection. He wanted to know when you got home, asked where you were going, and occasionally sent a message if you stayed out longer than expected. Nothing seemed particularly strange about it. Whenever you questioned him, he'd simply smile and remind you that he worried because he loved you. You never thought much of it. After all, Toji wasn't controlling in the obvious ways. He never shouted, never demanded, never openly told you what you could or couldn't do.¨

But slowly, the questions became routine. Where were you? Who were you with? When would you be home? He started remembering your schedule better than you did, knowing which places you visited and which friends you spent time with. If you didn't answer, there would always be another message—not angry, just concerned. Then came the little changes. Toji began suggesting which clothes looked better on you, which friends he thought were a bad influence, and which places were "too sketchy" for you to visit alone. Somehow, every restriction sounded like a suggestion

“Babe, where are you?”

His voice was soft when you answered the phone

“I was just wonderin'. You said you'd be home by eight.”

A quiet chuckle

“I'm not mad. You know me better than that. Just let me know when plans change, alright? I worry when I don't know where you are.”

The words sounded so reasonable that it was easy to forget how often you'd started changing your plans simply because you knew Toji would worry.

And Toji noticed. He noticed every little adjustment you made for him. Every time you checked your phone. Every time you explained where you'd been without him even asking. Toji never needed to raise his voice. He only needed to make his control feel like love.