I Can't Pay This Month's Rent Prank On My Boyfriend!sukuna

crawling back to you

pairing: sukuna x reader

genre: angst

inspired by the song do i wanna know? live at bbc by hozier

it’s been three months.

three months since the door slammed shut behind you, leaving nothing but silence in your wake. three months since you walked away, and sukuna didn’t chase after you—not that night, not the morning after, not the weeks that followed. he told himself it was for the best. that this was what you wanted.

but now, as he sits alone in his dimly lit apartment, the weight of your absence pressing down on him like a vice, he wonders if he made the biggest mistake of his life.

the buzzing of his tattoo machine is the only thing that keeps him sane most days. his clients come and go, faces he barely registers as he inks intricate designs onto their skin. it’s the only time his mind goes quiet—when his hands are busy, the hum of the machine drowning out the thoughts he doesn’t want to face.

but the second the machine powers down, reality creeps back in. and reality is cruel.

because no matter how hard he tries, you’re everywhere.

he sees you in the smallest things—things that shouldn’t remind him of you, but somehow always do. In the flicker of a neon sign outside the shop that hums the same soft glow as the fairy lights you used to hang in your room. in the faint scent of vanilla and jasmine that lingers when someone walks past him on the street, never quite matching the way it clung to your skin. in the half-empty coffee cup sitting on the counter, lipstick smudged at the rim, and he’s reminded of lazy mornings when you’d steal sips from his mug, laughing when he grumbled but never really minded.

you’re in the song that plays softly from the radio while he works—one he never paid attention to before but now knows every word to because it was always on your playlists. in the chipped black nail polish on his coworker’s hands, a fleeting reminder of the countless nights you sat cross-legged on his couch, painting your nails and teasing him for being too still as he let you paint his, too.

but worst of all, he sees you in his reflection—tired eyes that have lost their edge, the weight of regret carving its place in the lines of his face. in the faint traces of your touch that still linger like phantom sensations along the tattoos you used to trace absentmindedly with your fingers, as if memorizing every inch of him.

and when his coworkers scroll through their phones, laughter echoing through the shop, there you are again—captured in a fleeting Instagram story from some party last weekend. grainy, imperfect, but unmistakably you. smiling, carefree, eyes crinkling in that way that always made something in his chest tighten. and god, how he hates the way it guts him, wishing—aching—that he was still the reason for that smile.

you unfollowed him. he noticed immediately.

one day, your name was gone from his notifications, your profile nowhere to be found. he tried not to care. tried to convince himself that it was just social media. but it gnawed at him. you were cutting him out piece by piece, and all he could do was watch it happen.

he lurks in the shadows, hoping one of your friends posts something—anything—that gives him a glimpse of you. It’s pathetic, he knows, but it’s the only thing he has left.

there’s a bitter irony in it all. he was the one who pushed you away first. always keeping you at arm’s length, never letting you in too close. you wanted more—deserved more—but he couldn’t give it to you. not when vulnerability felt like a weakness he couldn’t afford.

and now? now, he craves your presence like a man starved.

the shop is quieter than usual tonight. it’s late, and everyone else has left. sukuna leans back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, the faint hum of traffic outside barely audible through the thick walls. the glow from his phone screen flickers beside him, but he doesn’t touch it.

not yet.

he’s been doing this every night. sitting here, contemplating. the urge to reach out is unbearable, but something always stops him. pride, maybe. or fear.

fear that you’ve moved on. that you don’t want to hear from him. that he’s too late.

his chest tightens at the thought.

he tried to fill the void, but nothing ever worked.

not the long hours at the tattoo shop, where he threw himself into his work until his fingers ached and his mind blurred. not the mindless scrolling through social media, hoping—not that he’d ever admit it—that he might catch a glimpse of you. not the empty nights spent lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, waiting for exhaustion to drag him under.

nothing could distract him from the ache of missing you.

his friends tell him it’s time to move on. they say three months is long enough to let someone go. that there are plenty of people out there. but what do they know? they didn’t spend endless nights memorizing the shape of your smile, or the way your eyes softened when you looked at him, like he was the only person in the world. they didn’t hear the quiet affection in your voice when you whispered his name in the dead of night, your fingers tracing lazy patterns over the tattoos on his chest like you were trying to commit every line to memory.

his friends didn’t feel the weight of your absence like he did—the way it settled deep in his bones, heavy and inescapable. they didn’t know how every morning, he still reached for you instinctively, only to be met with the cold, empty space beside him. how even now, he still slept on his side of the bed, as if leaving room for you just in case.

how could he fall for someone new when he was still so busy being yours?

they didn’t see how badly he broke you when he shut you out.

the memory of your last fight is still fresh, even after all this time. you stood in the doorway, tears brimming in your eyes, asking him—begging him—to just let you in. to tell you what he wanted. and all he gave you was silence.

he thought you’d stay. you always had before. but that night, you walked away. and now, the silence is all he has left.

his fingers twitch toward his phone, but he stops himself. what’s the point? you deserve better than a half-assed apology three months too late.

but then he thinks about the what-ifs. what if you’re waiting for him to reach out? what if you’re lying in bed right now, staring at your phone, wondering why he never called?

he can’t take it anymore.

the weight of missing you presses down on his chest, suffocating and relentless, until it pushes him off his chair and out the door before he can even think twice. it’s reckless, stupid—but so is love, isn’t it?

the streets are quiet at this hour, the hum of the city softened under the cloak of night. his hands are shoved deep into his jacket pockets, shoulders hunched against the cold, but none of it matters. all he can focus on is you. the thought of you, maybe asleep, maybe curled up in bed with your phone just out of reach. maybe dreaming of something—someone—that isn’t him.

the thought twists like a knife in his gut.

he walks with purpose, even though every step is a silent war between hope and dread. what if you don’t open the door? what if you tell him to leave? what if someone else is there?

he shakes the thought away.

it’s been three months, but it feels like no time has passed at all. and yet, it feels like forever.

before he knows it, he’s standing outside your apartment building, staring up at your window. the soft glow of light seeps through the curtains, and he wonders if you’re still awake or if you’ve just fallen asleep with the lamp on, the way you used to when reading late into the night.

his heart pounds so loudly he’s sure it’ll wake the whole block, but still, he climbs the stairs. each step echoes in the silence, a quiet reminder that there’s still time to turn back. but he doesn’t. he can’t.

and suddenly, he’s there. in front of your door. it’s familiar and foreign all at once.

he doesn’t have a plan. he doesn’t even know what he’s going to say. all he knows is that the thought of another night without you is unbearable.

he raises his hand to knock but hesitates. his breath is shallow, his pulse erratic.

but then, before he can stop himself, his knuckles rap gently against the door.

seconds pass. each one heavier than the last.

then, the faint sound of footsteps. the quiet click of the lock.

the door opens, and there you are.

soft, bleary-eyed, wrapped in a blanket, and so heartbreakingly familiar that it steals the breath from his lungs.

“sukuna?” your voice is quiet, confused, and laced with something that might be disbelief.

he swallows hard, the weight of the past three months pressing down on him all at once. “i know it’s late,” he says, voice rough and barely above a whisper. “i know i shouldn’t be here. but… i couldn’t stay away.”

you blink at him, and for a moment, there’s only silence. then, softly, “why now?”

his throat tightens, and he runs a hand down his face, exhaling shakily. “because i’m tired,” he says, voice cracking under the weight of everything he’s held back. “tired of trying to forget you. tired of pretending i’m okay. i’ve tried. god, i’ve tried. but i can’t. i miss you.”

his voice cracks at the end, and he hates how raw he sounds. how vulnerable. but it’s the truth. And right now, that’s all he has left to offer.

he sees the flicker of emotion in your eyes—the conflict, the hurt, the love you’ve tried to bury—and it guts him.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, voice thick with regret. “i’m sorry for not being enough. for not being what you deserved. i know I fucked up. i know i wasn’t always what you needed me to be.”

his hands tremble as he clenches them into fists at his sides. “but i swear… i’ll do better. i will. i promise you.”

his voice is raw now, barely more than a whisper. “just… tell me it’s not too late.”

you stare at him, eyes glossy, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and something softer. and then, finally, you step back just enough to let him in.

and for the first time in three months, sukuna breathes.

BAKUGOU KATSUKI ⭑.ᐟ A SERENE CELEBRATION, MERRY CHRISTMAS

A younger Bakugou Katsuki had always been certain of his future. At 26, he’d be a man with it all: a nice house, a career as the undisputed Number One Hero, happily married, and maybe, just maybe, a little brat on the way. That was the dream his teenage self clung to—the vision he worked tirelessly to acheive.

At 26, Bakugou stood in the middle of your shared apartment, arms crossed and staring at the half-decorated Christmas tree with a deep scowl. Strings of golden lights glimmered around the tree’s branches, lengths of ribbons are accompanied by shimmering with faux flowers, and ornaments—carefully chosen by you—hung delicately in place.

The problem? The color scheme.

“What’s wrong with red and gold?”

“It’s boring,” Bakugou grumbled. “We do red and gold every year.”

“It’s classic!” you argued, turning to face him fully. “And it matches the rest of the apartment’s decor!”

He narrowed his eyes. He could not believe that he’s having this conversation with you right now.

“We could try something new for once. Like silver and blue.”

You gasped, clutching an ornament like he’d just insulted you personally—even cursed your entire bloodline and ancestors. “Silver and blue? Are you trying to make our tree look like a corporate lobby?”

“It’d look cooler than this,” he shot back, gesturing vaguely at the warm-toned ornaments. “This looks like something out of a cheesy holiday catalog.”

“And what’s wrong with cheesy?” you challenged.

Bakugou opened his mouth, then closed it. He didn’t actually have anything against cheesy—hell, he secretly loved how excited you got during the holidays. But arguing about it? That was part of the fun, if not a branch of his quality time as a love language.

“Whatever,” he muttered, grabbing a red bauble and hanging it perfectly on the tree. “You’re just scared to try something new.”

You laughed, walking over with another ornament to decorate with. “And you’re just scared because I’m right.”

As Bakugou worked to string the lights around the higher branches, you began unpacking the remaining ornaments from your storage box. You pulled out a small, slightly worn ornament in the shape of a star and held it up with a nostalgic smile.

“Do you remember this?”

He glanced down from the tree, frowning at the star in your hand. “Should I?”

No matter how much he tries to remember, he simply couldn’t recall what made this star so special that you had to ask him if he remembers it.

It’s a star, that’s for sure. A faded one at that.

You sighed, clearly unimpressed by his lack of sentimentality. “It’s the first ornament we bought together. Back when we were... what, eighteen?”

Bakugou paused. It had been a spur-of-the-moment purchase during a rare day off from hero training.

You had somehow convinced him to go with you to wander around a Christmas market, bickering over everything from what food stalls to visit to what decorations looked “cool.” You had insisted on the star, and Bakugou—reluctantly—agreed after a heated argument about which shape of star’s better.

“Are you having a flashback monologue right now?”

That brought out a scoff from him. “Fuck no. Just remembered how you were annoying as hell that day,” he muttered.

“And you were so stubborn, god. You kept saying it was pointless to buy an ornament because I didn’t even have a tree back in my dorm.”

“Yeah, and you said, ‘It's not about the tree; it's about the tradition.’ What kinda cheesy crap was that?”

“It's true, though!” you argued, accepting his hand to place the star gently on the tree’s highest branch. “And now, look. We still have it. And now we can buy all the Christmas trees we could ever want.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

As you continued decorating, the sound of your laughter and playful arguments filled the apartment, giving it a cozy home feel. By the time the tree was finished, Bakugou begrudgingly admitted to himself that it didn’t look half bad—even if it was the same colors as last year, though a decent fortune was spent for it to not be too repetitive.

It’s a good thing his work pays well (you split the cost of decorations equally; he just says that his work pays better even if yours is a lot higher than his).

You stepped back, admiring your work with a satisfied smile. “Perfect. Now, onto the Christmas Eve menu. I was thinking we could do something light this year—maybe roasted chicken and a salad?”

Bakugou groaned, collapsing onto the couch. “Salad? On Christmas Eve? No fucking way.”

“What’s wrong with salad?”

“Is your childhood a bland mess to have salad as one of the main foods? It’s boring,” he said, sticking his tongue out at you when you gave him a pointed look. “We should make something warm and filling.”

“Okay, but you’re helping.”

“Since when did I ever leave all the cookin’ to you?”

Now that he’s 26, standing in the modest yet cozy apartment he shares with you, he realizes that dreams don’t always come in the exact shape you imagine.

Sure, he doesn’t have the massive house he once envisioned, but this apartment—filled with laughter, memories, and the faint scent of your favorite candles—is more of a home than anything his younger self could have dreamed up. The framed photos of your milestones, the shelves of books, and even a few of his hero equipment with the tools scattered on his office—it’s all perfect in a way he didn’t know he needed.

And his career? Well, Dynamight isn’t the Number One Hero yet, but he’s close. Close enough that his younger self would sneer but grudgingly admit it’s not bad.

He’s built a solid name for himself, and he’s done it his way. His rank might not be where he wanted it to be at this age, but he’s learned something more valuable than being the best—he’s learned the importance of balance.

The last part of that dream? The wife? He looks toward the kitchen, where you’re humming some off-tune melody, beginning to prepare what Bakugou’s about to cook with for dinner. The sight of you, so comfortable and almost glowing in your shared space, makes his chest tighten.

He must have a heart problem by this point because it comes at him at the most unexpected times whenever he sees you.

No, he doesn’t have a wife yet. But he’s about to change that.

He’s been thinking about it for weeks now.

He’s got the ring—it’s hidden in the drawer under his socks, where he knows you won’t go snooping.

He knows you’ll say yes, but he would be damned if he didn’t admit that it made him a bit nervous. He knows because you look at him the same way he looks at you: like the world would become lighter and easier to conquer as long as you have the other.

But still, he waits.

Not because he’s unsure, but because he wants the timing to be perfect. Not rushed, not forced. He’s learned to be patient over the years.

“Kats, help with cutting the onions, please!”

“Yeah, yeah. Comin’!”

Soon, he’ll drop the question. He’s not in a rush. This is your life together, and it’s not perfect, but it is just right—chaotic, loud, and full of love. And when the time comes, he’ll make sure you know just how much you mean to him.

But you already know that, don’t you?

SEUMYO © 2024, PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, PLAGIARIZE, MODIFY OR TRANSLATE.

📬 🍜 キスさせて . . (>_★) [REQ]

It was just a sneak peek, but remember when fans went wild for this:

year's end

For her…

syn: a certain time of year was particularly hard for Toji, and you start to understand why..

cw: angst. grief. mamaguro🥹🕊️

a/n: idk..was in my feels today i guess🫠 relax and enjoy some bittersweetness with me

No one ever flat out told you why one day out of the year was just…different..at the Fushiguro house.

You were pretty perceptive of the change in Toji’s demeanor. The melancholic sheen over his eyes when he’d look at you, barely holding eye contact when you asked him a question and him being dismissive if it had anything to do with how he was acting.

He wasn’t mean or less patient with you or Megumi. He was just..different. He didn't say much. His laughter sounded a tad off, even forced at times. He slept a bit longer, usually blaming it on a recent job or his age, jokingly of course.

He moved around as if he operated on autopilot, unlike the agile and conscientious man you’d learned Toji to be . You’d catch him zoning out alot or being a little more forgetful than usual. Less focused, as if his mind was somewhere far away. Another place. Another time.

One summer morning you noticed a bottle of strawberry soda in the back of the fridge, tucked behind several items as if it were purposely placed there. Hidden. You’d only seen it because Megumi struggled to reach something on the same shelf, so you helped him You'd been meaning to ask Toji since when he even iiked that brand, seeing as how you never saw him or Megs drink it. You didn’t know him to be much of a soda drinker unless it was the occasional Coke on a scalding hot day.

But when you went back the next day to find it, it was gone. When you finally asked him about it, he’d just say he got it for Megs but he never drank it, and it had been in there for a while so he threw it out. That would have been believable if you didn’t find the same bottle hidden a little better in the back of the fridge again that following year around the same time.

“It's for my mom.” Megumi’s raspy voice makes you flinch from where he spooked you on the other side of the door. He was now tall enough to see over it, his lithe form springing up with each passing day it seemed. You blinked at him in surprise, your mouth gaping and in search of a reasonable excuse to be holding the soda that you’d dug out from the depths of the ice box. The chilled glass bottle was clutched against your chest when the spikey-headed boy stepped towards the open fridge to reach around you for a yogurt drink.

"Oh...I wasn't.." you stammered, only for the broody adolescent to interrupt you.

“It's her birthday tomorrow,” Megumi mutters shortly after he peels the cap back a little to take a sip, not saying anything else about the soda before walking away.

You watched him exit the kitchen in silence, an odd sensation tingling in your chest. You never heard Megumi speak of his late mother. Not even when he was smaller. From what you know, Toji's wife passed away shortly after Megumi was born. Something about an underlying heart condition that worsened after giving birth. Megs wasn't even a year old yet, so it made some sense that he didn't speak of her. He probably had no memories of his mother and was always accustomed to it just being him and his dad.

Until now at least...

Your attention returns to the soda, its slow-rising bubbles lining the neck of the glass bottle as you turn it slowly in your hand.

So every year, around his late wife's birthday, Toji bought the same brand of strawberry soda. For her.

Now that you thought of it, there was always this errand he’d always have to run on a certain day every year. Too consumed with life and work, you didn't realize it was on the same day. Every year.

An errand that would take him far out of the city very early in the morning.

You would roll over in the bed groggily, noting Toji sitting on the edge of his side. He’d be leaned over, lacing up his boots, fully dressed and smelling good. You knew sometimes he and Shiu would meet up early to discuss business so you never asked for details when he'd kiss your forehead goodbye.

He always came back to you around noon with a bouquet of sunflowers and red roses though, from a shop way out of the way, with a card that would read the same thing every time.

For you, just because <3

Toji knew you loved them and it made you less curious about his mysterious errand when he came back bearing gifts. In hindsight, you felt stupid and selfish for thinking they were 'just because' flowers now that you knew what this day meant to him.

Especially when you looked up the flower shop and found out it was less than a mile away from a cemetery.

That was why one year, days before he could find time to go to the store, and days after he gave you the heads up on his early morning errand, Toji found the newly bought bottle of strawberry soda in the fridge. You weren't around when he found it, which made the lump in Toji's throat even thicker at the realization.

He never really told you that every July 7th, he would visit a little florist's shop at the edge of a small town an hour away, where the owner would have a special arrangement that Toji ordered every year waiting for him. Preserved lilies and pink roses, a small bag of items from the convenience store across the street, and two glass bottles of soda (one strawberry and one Coke ) rest in his passenger seat for another 3 to 5 minutes as he pulls into the parking space that was always empty.

The morning sun warms his skin on his walk across the grass. Flowers, and plastic bag in tow, Toji steps with purpose on his way to his wife's grave. For a few minutes, he takes his time using the items in the small bag to scrub and rinse any dirt or grime tainting the granite. In the early years, Toji would visit and clean her grave stone frequently. He’d even bring baby Megumi with him since they still lived in the small town. The place where he and his wife made a life together.

But one day, after about 2 years had passed and Megumi became more active, Toji he realized that staying stuck in his grief was causing him to miss out on being mentally present in his child’s life.

And he knew she wouldn’t want that..

So he came alone now, placing the flowers down to replace the ones that had withered away, along with the opened bottle of strawberry soda nestled perfectly in the grass.

Toji squats to sit in front of the grave with his own beverage dangling between his knuckles, popping the cap off with his teeth and leaning forward to clink it gently against his wife's before taking a sip.

He would then spend about an hour or more just sitting there. Usually, he'd talk, not caring about how awkward it felt anymore.

He'd start out by wishing her happy birthday and telling her about how big Megumi is getting. How much he looks like her and all the little quirks he has that remind him of her. How smart and independent he is and how he takes care of his dad just as much as his dad takes care of him. He tells her about how he is doing. About his health and any recent injuries or ailments as a result of his job. He'd leave out what he still did to make money, even though he was sure she already knew. He'd talk about how getting older isn't as scary to him as it used to be, especially when he had someone that made him feel young again.

He'd tell her about how you came into his life and how hesitant he was about allowing you into his heart. Not that he had much of a choice. You just made it that easy. Leading with friendship, fostering a bond that wasn’t driven by lust or uninhibited emotions. Showing up for Megumi when he couldn’t due to work or making sure the both of them were taking proper care of themselves.

It always stuck in his mind how you never let his trauma or baggage scare you away, even if it should have, and how much your presence changed the way he saw love and life after losing someone so precious.

He would express the guilt he felt in loving you and her simultaneously. He didn't understand it. It wasn't as if there was a hierarchy in his heart, ranking one person over the other. He just couldn’t do that when he loved you both im different ways. It was just as if his heart had grown and all that she taught him about love years ago allowed more to pour in, making space for you.

He'd thank her for being his first love and for giving him the greatest gifts he could ever ask for. For teaching him how to love, and in turn, how to be loved as well.

That part of his conversation always got him emotional, and a breeze that didn’t touch anything but him with blow over his tearstained face. Even his hair would be tussled, reminiscent of the way his wife would tease his messy raven tresses in attempt to cheer him up.

Then he would smile, clear his throat and tell her he’d be back this time next year before rising to stand.

On his drive back, he’d glance at the new custom bouquet of sunflowers and red roses now in his passenger, his heart still twinged with a confusing mixture of guilt and relief riddling him. Relief to be leaving that small old town that only reminded him of a life that was now over. The life he thought would last much longer than it did. Every place held a memory that was colored yellow and blue in his mind, stored deep but never forgotten.

His guilt came mostly from the fact that he never could find a way to tell you why the birthday of his late wife was so hard for him and why he just needed to make that yearly trip on his own to visit her.

So one could only imagine the shock Toji felt that following year when he opened his fridge and found his late wife’s favorite soda.

Front and center. Not hidden or tucked away in the back. Unseen and easily forgotten. With a yellow sticky note placed over the label, easy to see and read.

In your handwriting…

For her, just because <3

Hi. I really love how u write Toji. Squeezes my heart everytime. 🥰 This is my first time asking… I was wondering, on a whole different prompt, it’s late and Toji is bad out of luck this time so he’s currently homeless, in the rain holding his son, Megumi, protectively to keep him dry but then comes reader, (first time meeting) taking them in with a warm welcome and treating them with care. Idk I saw an image about them in the rain and it made my heart hurt and I would want to take care of them. Thank you

A/N: This broke my heart 😭💔 Something about Toji being unable to do anything but wait for things to take a turn hurts. This was on another level of sad too because it's not just him, Megumi's there with him 🥺 I had to take breaks and go work on other incomplete works while writing this because I was literally sobbing. Since Megumi's age wasn't specified, I wrote him between the age of 5-6 years old.

Thank you for sending in this request 💙

Toji and Megumi had been walking around all day, looking for a place they could take shelter in once the downpour of rain got heavier. There were so many things on Toji's mind. What was he going to feed Megumi? What to do if they got fully drenched? What if Megumi got sick? How would he get the medicine to cure him? All these swarming thoughts were making his head pulse, but he held it together for the sake of the boy holding his hand, walking alongside him.

Nightfall came by way too fast, and before Toji knew it, all the bigger stores and supermarkets were closing. He would no longer be able to keep Megumi and himself out of the rain under the guise of just looking around, with no intention of actually buying anything. As they made their way to the store's exit, they neared the monitored aisle of prepackaged pastries and bars of candy. Toji kept his face down and covered Megumi's eyes as he shoved one small, random pouch of bread into the pocket inside his coat and speed walked out along with the dispersed mob of people leaving the store.

He broke small pieces of the bread at a time for Megumi, occasionally having some of it, too. The boy was starving and so was he, but if it were between him and his son lacking energy, he would be the one to push through the tiredness that came with being malnourished. Toji watched as Megumi chowed down, almost entirely dull eyes presenting a soft glimmer at the sight of his most cherished person stuffing his face mercilessly. It broke his heart when he had to tell him that there was no more, displaying the empty, crinkled, plastic wrapper to the boy, and watching in real time as his little face went glum.

Once they got done with their "meal" break, they kept walking towards neon signs. Toji didn't have a cent on him, so whenever him and Megumi walked into smaller and more rare 24/7 convenience stores or liquor stores, they got turned away, all of the lazy, inconsiderate people in charge saying the same thing, like it was a damn script. 'If you're not gonna buy anything, get out.' They were most likely threatened by his duffel bag—which was filled with clothes—possibly thinking he would steal from them. They were all so disrespectful, each and every one of them. Toji's blood boiled as he stared them down. He was really trying his hardest to refrain from getting violent in front of Megumi, not wanting to put him through more than he was already going through. He was trembling with rage, tired of being shooed away like they were freakish monsters. He only let go of the tension when Megumi tugged on his coat and pointed at another distant, colorful sign.

Gaining no sympathy from the store Toji told Megumi would be the last one, he gave up and resorted to just looking for some cover. Megumi got tired after walking for so long. He was teary eyed as he told Toji that his feet really hurt and it felt like there was something in his shoe scratching him, so Toji picked him up. He wrapped the unzipped halves of his coat around Megumi, hoping to shield him from as much of the rain as possible.

Eventually, they found a spot with little coverage. It was the smallest skirt of a roof, but it reduced the heavy cascade of the rainfall a little, allowing him to see more clearly.

"Gonna put you down for a little bit, alright?" Toji says, to the boy pressed against his chest. His joints hurt from the cold, but he withstood the weight of his son until he found somewhere good enough to rest.

Megumi nodded, and was put back down onto his aching little feet. He immediately clung to Toji's leg.

"I'm cold," he mumbled, pressing his cheek into rough, wet denim.

The lump in Toji's throat got worse. His vision was no longer blurry just from the rain falling into his eyes. Life faced him with yet another challenge, and maybe before, when he was on his own, he was better at toughing it out, but he's not alone, anymore. There is an entirely separate human being relying on him for survival.

"I know, Megs," he says, swiping away some of the drenched hair that obscures his son's eyes. Megumi looks a lot more like him with his hair flattened down. "Um..." He tries to steady his voice, but his throat aches. He takes a deep breath before retrying. "The rain should be gone by tomorrow." His voice quiets down a little, threatening to break, again, as warm crystals blend together with icy droplets on his cheeks. "We'll stand in the warm sunlight all day, okay?"

"Okay," Megumi responds, hugging his leg a little tighter. He sees a figure approaching in the distance, and immediately tells Toji about it. "Dad, there's someone coming," he says, pointing at the figure that seems to be getting closer and closer.

Toji clears his throat, forcing his emotions down to focus on keeping his son safe. "Stay behind me, Megumi," he says, voice low. The boy scurries to hide behind him, his rapid footsteps splashing water onto the bottom of Toji's pants. The figure comes closer, what looks to be a blue umbrella coming to light. Toji's heart is beating fast. His protective instincts are through the roof. He swears if it's someone else coming to tell him that they can't stand there, he'll actually put up his fists. He feels irritated, like he wants to shout for this speedily approaching stranger to turn around and get lost.

That is until you speak...

"Hey, are you two alright? It's raining cats and dogs out here. What are you doing outside?"

Megumi giggles behind Toji. He liked your method of saying that it's raining hard.

You tilt your umbrella back and look down, offering a friendly smile to the boy. He's got the cutest eyes, and they make brief eye contact with you before he shifts to hide behind who you assume is his dad.

Your attention goes back to the taller man. You see who the boy gets those beautiful green eyes from, but his features aren't something you would necessarily call cute. He has eyes that naturally hold a darkness to them, a straight and pointed nose, and a scar that mars one side of his lips. He's handsome in a rough and scary kind of way. He looks mean, but not mean enough for you to keep walking after you saw him.

"Please, take my umbrella. This rainfall's been pretty extreme, and you're both soaking wet."

"We can't," Toji instantly responds. "I don't have any money to give you for it. We're camping it out here 'til tomorrow."

"I'm not selling it to you," you respond, with a kind smile. "Please, take the umbrella. Your little boy is shivering. He'll catch a cold if you stay like this any longer."

Toji is hesitant, but he's keeping Megumi in mind, as well. He secretly hopes you keep insisting. "What about you, miss? You'll be walking in the rain if we take your umbrella."

"I dressed for the weather. As you can see, i'm wearing a raincoat with a hood and rain boots. You and your son aren't. So, again, please, for the love of god, take my umbrella." You extend the handle towards him, again, and this time he takes it. The heavy raindrops fall onto your head as you rush to put your hood on. You watch as Toji moves so that the umbrella covers both him and Megumi. He looks up at the water that lands on his more effective coverage, like he's expecting there to be a hole in it.

"I- We really appreciate it."

"Oh, it's no problem at all. I'm happy to help," you respond, cheerfully.

There's a pause of silence that normally would be a cue to leave, but you stay for a few more minutes to ensure that they'll be okay.

"Where are you two going? The rain isn't gonna stop for at least another hour."

Toji felt somewhat embarrassed to say this to you, even though he can positively assume that you've pieced things together by now. You're easy to talk to, and you have a kind look in your eyes. You seem to lack judgement towards him.

"We have nowhere to go. We've been kicked out of every store that's open in the area." His heart starts racing and his anger starts to bubble up again, just remembering the careless expressions and monotonous tones. "Lazy assholes wouldn't even spare us a glance as they kicked us to the curb."

At the sound of the curse word, your eyes darted down to the little boy who had been peeking at you as you spoke to his dad. Your heart ached for them. He seemed like a good man just trying to take care of his son and while normally you would be more careful about approaching strangers in the middle of the night, your mental warning signals weren't blaring.

"That's awful. I'm sorry to hear that." Your brows pinch with sympathy towards them. You look down at the little boy once more, then back at his dad, before making your bold decision. "My house is about three minutes that way. You guys can come along with me and get yourselves cleaned up, as well as sleep in my spare bedroom, if you want. I think it's a pretty good offer, but if that's not something you're interested in, i'm content with having given you my umbrella to cover yourselves." You smile at both of them and continue walking in the direction of your home.

Toji and Megumi watch as you walk off, your rain boots creating ripples in puddles with every step you take.

"What do you say, Megs? Should we follow the pretty girl to her house?" He looks down at Megumi, then glances back up to make sure he doesn't lose you.

"Let's go, dad! She's walking really fast!"

Toji grabs ahold of the back of his soggy sweater, before he starts aimlessly chasing you. "I know where she went, kid. Don't run off without me."

You smiled when you saw two shadows cut off by the dome shape of an umbrella, walking behind you. You opened the front door to turn on the porch light as well as the living room light before standing outside, waiting for them. You properly introduced yourselves once they made it to your doorstep, appreciations and humble responses being tossed back and forth for your generosity.

"Make sure to leave your shoes out here," you say, smiling as they line their soggy footwear along the front of your house. The difference in sizes made you giggle yourself.

"Alright, bathrooms over there," you point towards the hallway to your left. "It's the second door to the right. Oh, just follow me," you say, leading them in that same direction. "Let me grab some towels for you guys." They both follow along, silently, wet socks leaving footprints on the floor.

"Here you go," you say, handing Toji the towels. "There's shampoo, conditioner and body wash in there, too. I'll grab a bag for you to put your wet clothes in."

You're overly generous and Toji is utterly speechless about it. Who opens their home to strangers, so easily? It's not that he's unappreciative, he's just in shock. He's never been a lucky person. The past months have certainly emphasized it, but this was a total shift. You're a saint for offering them a place to take refuge.

"Well, i'll leave you guys to it," you say, with that same kind smile he's been seeing, before walking back to the living room.

The warm water feels heavenly on his aching body. He's happy to be able to clean himself up with good soap, wash his greasy hair, and clean under his fingernails. The treatment went to Megumi first. The boy basked in the warm water and the clean scent of the shampoo lathered into his hair. He didn't enjoy having his feet cleaned because there were blisters on them. That was the scratchy, stinging feeling he felt earlier. Toji told him he would ask if you have a first aid kit and he calmed down a little. He now sits in a towel on the toilet seat cover, waiting for Toji to finish up. Once Toji comes out of the shower, he fishes through his duffel bag for clothes to dress Megumi and himself into. Most of it is damp, but it's all they have.

Toji opens the bathroom door and is met with the sound of a plastic bag rustling on the floor. It's for the wet clothes, like you said. He throws the bundle of soggy clothes into the bag and ties it up, leaving it on top of his duffel bag, against the wall.

Toji doesn't know what to do when he finds that you're not around. He doesn't want to intrude anywhere he isn't supposed to, but he ends up peeking into rooms with open doors, Megumi trailing right behind him.

He thinks maybe you aren't in one of them until he sees a flash of movement in his peripheral vision. He checks again, a little more carefully this time and catches a glimpse of you changing out of your clothes. He puts a hand over Megumi's eyes, but freezes there, absorbing the sight of you tugging your shirt off and slipping out of your pants. That enormous raincoat really worked to hide your gorgeous body. You're a heavenly sight for incredibly sore eyes. Toji knew it was wrong of him to stand there and watch you undress, so once you unhooked the clasps of your bra and he saw your unrestricted, naked back, he snapped out of his trance and looked away. He was aware of how perverted it was for him to get that far, so he didn't stand there for much longer, especially, since Megumi was there clawing at his hand to get it off his eyes.

He turned Megumi around before uncovering his eyes and pulled him along to wait in the living room for you to come out.

A couple minutes passed and you came out to the living room in a t-shirt and sweatpants.

"Hey, did the shower do you guys any good?" You ask. They're awkwardly standing next to the couch instead of sitting on it.

"Sure did. Thanks for that. Also, any chance you got a first aid kit or just some bandages lying around? The kid's got blisters on his feet."

Your heart sinks. It must have been hell for both of them to walk around and stand in those wet socks and shoes all day.

"Oh god, yes. Give me one moment. Sit, sit," you say ushering them to take a seat on the couch. "Get off your feet. You both must be exhausted. Just- One sec." You put a finger up, quickly making your way to the cabinet where you keep your kit, returning to the pair in seconds.

"Poor baby," you coo, offering a soft look to the boy as you hand the kit to his dad. "There should be all kinds of stuff in there. Alcohol wipes, ointment, bandages- It's a first aid kit, what am I telling you this for?" You laugh, lightheartedly, making the corners of Toji's lips twitch with held back amusement. "You guys hungry?"

Megumi's eyes instantly make contact with Toji's. His wide-eyed expression makes you smile. It's as if he's trying to desperately communicate that he is, to his dad, so he doesn't have to directly tell you.

"I mostly have ingredients for breakfast. I hope you don't mind. As you can see-"

"Ow, ow, ow!" Megumi cries out, abruptly pulling his foot out of Toji's hands.

Toji retracts the alcohol wipe, his other hand still suspended in the air. "I know, Megs, but we gotta get them cleaned up or they'll get worse."

"It h-hurts. No, I don't want to do this," he says, his voice shaky and paired with weary, glossy eyes.

"I know, bud. I'm sorry. I'll try to get it done as fast as I can."

Those words aren't very comforting to the one who's on the receiving end of the pain. Megumi can't see the damage or how quickly Toji is working. All he can feel is the excruciating, merciless burn, of rubbing alcohol on open skin.

"Hey," you call, smiling as you plop down right beside him. Toji lifts his gaze, his protectiveness towards Megumi completely instinctive. "I have some questions that I think only you would know the answers to. Not even your dad would know the answers to these extremely hard questions." You nod at Toji, as if giving him a signal for him to continue on with the cleansing. He grabs the boy's ankle and lifts his foot, revealing the scattered spots of peeled back skin on the sole.

"Do you know the name of the dinosaur with the reallyyy tiny arms and the long tail?"

"Uh... um... it's a-" he cuts himself off with a cry and attempts to pull his foot back again. Toji's grip is a little tighter, this time.

"It's got reallyyy tiny arms and it's tall and it stands on two feet," you say, enthusiastically, ruffling his hair to keep his attention on you.

"T-Tyrannosaurus... Rex," he responds, through quivering lips.

"Yeah! You got it! Alright... I think that was a little too easy for you. Let's see... Oh! What is the name of the planet in our solar system with the really big rings around it?"

You glance over at Toji as he finishes up wrapping the boy's foot. One more foot to go. He grabs Megumi's other ankle, examining the damage and his expression is something of hurt and empathy. He sighs before ripping open another alcohol wipe packet.

"That's Saturn. It comes after Jupiter."

You smile, proudly. "That's right! You're too smart for my questions." Megumi giggles, blushing at your praise. You scramble to think of another question when you see Toji lean in, bringing the alcohol wipe close to the bottom of Megumi's foot, again. You can't focus. You're worried about how he'll react when the wipe meets his broken skin.

"Um..."

"Ow! Stop! Stop it, please!" He throws his arms around you and sobs into your side.

"Megumi." Toji's tone is still gentle, but there's a tinge of warning, like he's trying to convey that it's inappropriate for him to just latch onto you like that.

"Oh, it's okay, sweet boy. It's alright," you coo, as he continues to cry. You look at Toji, your sympathetic expression taking in the stern one he holds on his son. "Can I hug him?" You ask.

Toji's gaze flits to yours and when he sees the sadness in your eyes, he has no other choice but to soften up. You asking for permission to hug his suffering child, is only further proving your saintly status. Who in the world is this good?

"Yeah, that's fine. It only seems fair since he already attached himself to you." A faint smile appears on his lips, before he returns his gaze to the bottom of Megumi's foot.

You sigh in relief and immediately embrace the sniffling boy. "It's almost over. Just a little longer. When it hurts just squeeze me as hard as you can, okay?" You give Toji a tight-lipped smile, and nod like you did before.

He resumes, wiping at the raw skin of his poor son's trembling foot. Megumi continues to howl in pain, the sound of his muffled, shaky breathing, entirely heart shattering. He's holding onto you, tightly, pulling at your shirt as he squirms around.

You watch Toji finish up tending to his wounds by bandaging his foot, like he did to the one before. As soon as he lets go of Megumi's ankle, the boy is quick to bring his legs up to curl up entirely into you. "See? It's all over, honey. All done."

Toji has the most guilt-ridden expression you've ever seen. He closes up the kit and sets it aside on the arm of the couch, his hands folded as he watches his son search for comfort in the most comfortable stranger they've met in so long. "Why don't you go give papa a hug?"

The boy loosens his hold on you and looks at you with his puffy, green eyes, nodding before he crawls over to his dad. He's careful to not put pressure on the bottoms of his feet and the second he's in his dad's familiar embrace, he starts crying again. Toji smiles, tenderly, a soft laugh sounding out as he cradles his son's head with one hand, while the other keeps him close. You see his eyes shine a little more, like he's holding back strong emotions. It's an entire sight of clear adoration.

"You're so strong, buddy. I'm proud of you." He presses a kiss to the top of his head, shutting his eyes as he holds him for a couple minutes.

"Can we have food?" Megumi asks, his voice meek when he wiggles out of Toji's arms. He looks up at him with brilliant, pleading eyes. Toji's gaze flits to you, then back to Megumi with uncertainty.

"Right, food. Like I was saying before." You laugh, nervously. You're somewhat embarrassed about what you're going to reveal. "Most of what I have is for breakfast. I work in the morning and as you know now, I stay out pretty late. I don't have time to come home and make dinner, but, I always have time for pancakes."

A small voice chimes in. "I like pancakes."

You gasp. "You do?"

The boy smiles, still slightly reddened eyes looking back at you as he nods. He sniffs before elaborating. "Yeah, my dad took me for my birthday one time."

Your heart ached so much throughout the short amount of time that you've known them. You've wanted to cry so many times now, but you haven't for the sake of them not seeing it as pity. You are offering your utmost support and that's all.

"Your dad took you to get pancakes for your birthday?" You receive another enthusiastic nod from the boy. "That's awesome! I bet they were sooo good, huh?"

"Uh-huh! Can I have some pancakes?"

"Please," Toji whispers, correcting his manners.

"Please?"

You look at Toji and laugh, luring another soft smile from him. "Sure. How many?"

"Six, please."

"Megs, that's a lot," Toji says, running his fingers through his damp hair.

"No, no. Six pancakes coming up. What about you?" You ask Toji.

"Uh... Actually, that's alright. I don't wanna inconvenience you anymore than we already have."

"Shush, it's not an inconvenience. I'm cooking for both of you. How many pancakes do you want, Toji?"

His name should not have sounded so soft. It sounded like you were talking to someone you really care about, like someone you've known forever.

"Four, please."

"Six as well? Coming right up."

-

They both sat at the table, waiting for you to finish cooking. Toji had already asked if you needed any help, and you told him that you could handle it, but as he watched you move around the kitchen, the guilt started biting at him again. He told Megumi to stay in his seat and that he would be back.

"Anything I can help you with?" He asks, again, leaning against the frame of your kitchen's entryway.

"You already asked me this. Go sit with your son. I've got this all under control."

He doesn't move an inch and instead decides to stick around and make you nervous by watching your every move.

You sigh, defeated. "You really wanna help me with something?"

"Of course. Let me earn all of this, sweetheart."

You know he means nothing by the word. It's probably just the way he talks, but it's got your heart racing just a little bit. You compose yourself and push down these flustered feelings and turn off the stove.

"Can you bring down the plates and utensils?" You point at their respective locations and he moves immediately.

"Mhm. What else?" He asks, bringing down three plates.

"Does your son like chocolate milk?" You ask, taking the plates from him to begin serving the portions of food.

Toji looks over at Megumi who's swinging his feet and tapping his fingers against the table, patiently waiting for his meal. "He loves it."

"Well, I have chocolate syrup and milk in the fridge if you wanna make some for him." He freezes, just standing there while mumbling out a couple placeholder words. His awkwardness is cute. "You can open the fridge, Toji." There's no bite to your tone, more like underlying encouragement.

"Sorry. Don't wanna be disrespectful and touch things without your permission," he says, opening the fridge and grabbing the half gallon of milk and the bottle of chocolate syrup.

"Don't worry about it. Cups are up there," you say, pointing to the cabinet next to the fridge. "You can open the cabinets, too," you joke.

His lips twitch with amusement at your teasing. Your sense of humor is refreshing. There hasn't been much for him to smile about, lately, but you fit right into that very short list. You're just so easy going and warm and completely inviting. You must be loved by everyone.

"Food's served. Help me with the last plate, please?" You grab the bottle of maple syrup and hold it against your side so you can pick up the two full plates on the counter, unable to carry the third one. He finishes mixing up the chocolate milk and puts the ingredients away, before joining you and Megumi at the table. You're setting down Megumi's plate, smiling at the way he stares hungrily at the food before him. His visible excitement is heartwarming yet saddening.

You know they both have to be starving... Which is why you don't say a thing when they start scarfing down their food. They're devouring the eggs and pancakes. The bacon is already gone. Megumi took a huge gulp of his chocolate milk and immediately started stuffing his face with food again. You focus on your own meal and pay no mind to the lack of conversation. Neither of them are looking at you, too busy filling the almost bottomless pit of their stomachs. Occasionally, you look over at Toji. It goes without saying, but there's no judgment for his manners, either. You excuse his impatience for wanting to eat more, just as you excuse Megumi's. You hold nothing but respect for him, as a single father raising his son through such a difficult time.

They had the same mannerisms. Pushing their plates forward when they finished their seconds, wiping their faces of anything that littered them, and groaning with their bellies full of food.

"Sorry you had to witness that," Toji finally says. The tips of his ears are red and he's finding it hard to look at you without feeling ashamed for the way he ravaged his meal.

You smile. "Don't worry about it. I'm just happy you liked the food."

"Oh, yeah. Best breakfast i've ever had."

You laugh at his compliment. "You're exaggerating. There's no way."

"Why would I lie to you?" He asks, smirking at the color blooming on your cheeks and the huge smile stretched on your face.

"To be polite? I don't know," you say, through remnants of your laughter.

"Nah, I see no reason to lie to a sweet girl like you." He's pushing it on purpose. Your smile is as sweet as the syrup used on the pancakes. He likes it a lot. "I stand by what I said."

Megumi doesn't understand what's going on. All he sees is his dad and the really nice woman who let them stay in her house, going back and forth over something, laughing. He looks up at Toji and wonders why his cheeks are so red and why his eyes are so shiny, and then he looks up at you and wonders why you're smiling so big and laughing so much. He doesn't get it, at all, but then his name is mentioned.

"Megumi can back me up. He even licked the plate," Toji says, bringing attention to the boy. "The food was great, huh, Megs?"

He's silent, for a few seconds—shy, due to the two pairs of eyes on him. "I really liked it," he says, quietly. "More than the... birthday... pancakes..." he trails off at the end, scared of how Toji might react. Toji just pats his head, as if insinuating that it's okay for him to feel that way.

"See? Kids are harsh with criticism, too. You know he's telling the truth when he admits that this was better than his birthday pancakes. After I took him to the restaurant, he wouldn't stop asking if we could go again for his next birthday."

You smile and look down at your own empty plate, feeling bashful over all their love towards your strange breakfast at midnight. "Well, thank you. Now that you've eaten, you must be pretty tired, huh?" You can see it clear on their faces. Toji has the eye bags of a father with a newborn child and Megumi doesn't even attempt to hide his tiredness, his chin resting in his palm. "I'll take care of the dishes once I show you your room," you say, standing from your chair. They stand up in tandem, and follow you through the living room. Toji swoops up his duffel bag and the plastic bag of wet clothes from where he left them against the wall, taking the minimal belongings he and his son have to this temporary placement.

"Don't mind how boring it looks," you say, standing against the door as they walk in. "It's mostly just me sleeping in here. It's weird because I have the master bedroom, yet I change the room I sleep in almost every night."

Megumi instantly makes himself comfortable, letting out a big sigh as he spreads his limbs over the bed. He lies right on top of the covers instead of getting under them, scared of grazing his feet against the blanket and hurting them.

"We're sharing the bed, Megs. Turn down the starfish act."

You press your lips together, stifling a laugh when Megumi doesn't move an inch. Toji just shakes his head and fishes out a plastic bag with their hygiene products. "Your teeth are gonna fall out if you don't brush them," he says, earning an irritated whine from the boy, before he flutters his eyes open and sits up, ready to do as he's told.

"I'm gonna go get those dishes washed and the kitchen organized," you say, with a polite smile. "I'll be awake for a while, so if you need anything, let me know."

"We really appreciate it," Toji says, taking in the soft smile and nod you give him before leaving them.

He doesn't intend to let you think he's lazy by letting you clean up after both him and Megumi, alone. No, you don't deserve to be repaid that way after everything you've given them, so he tiptoes out of the room when Megumi falls asleep, hoping you're still out there and not in one of the rooms again. To his relief, you're wiping down the table and pushing in the chairs that were once occupied.

"Hey." Your body jolts at the sound of Toji's voice, your hand coming up to clutch your chest. "Shit, my bad," he says, grinning at your reaction.

"No, I just thought you both were asleep already. Is everything okay? Need another blanket?"

He shakes his head. "Nah, it's surprisingly warm in that room. I let the kid ball up in the blanket and I opened a window. Hope you don't mind."

You shake your head, permissibly, and continue on wiping down the table.

"So... what's the deal with you coming home to no one? Is your partner out of town or something?" He stands behind the chair he sat in before, hands resting on the top of it.

"No." You laugh. "I'm living the solitary life. I go out with friends, but it's usually just to catch up with them, not to meet someone new."

He hums, then clicks his tongue. "That's a real shame."

"How come?" You ask, folding up the damp cloth in your hands. You make eye contact with him, as you await his response, and your heart is suddenly beating so fast. He's attractive. It's a fact you haven't refuted since you first saw him, but you can't let yourself be outwardly nervous because of it. You're supposed to be creating a hospitable environment for him and his son. So far, so good, but now it's just you and him talking. Two adults, now able to discuss adult matters without censorship. It's a lot more real.

"You're damn good at caring for people. Guess I thought it would be fair to assume that you had someone to practice on."

"No, it's just in my nature," you say, pushing in the final chair. You move to the kitchen and set the cloth down on the countertop next to the stove. "Can I ask you something? Feel free to change the subject if it's too personal."

He knows exactly what you're going to ask, and he's ready to respond. He hasn't been asked about this in a while, but he hasn't been thinking about it, either. There's too much about survival and Megumi going on in his mind.

"Shoot," he says, watching as you wipe down the counter.

"Where is Megumi's mom?"

Plain and simple. No assumptions or guesses added so that there is no inflicted damage accompanied by your curiosity.

"She's dead."

Plain and simple. No need to dramatize or tread around the fact. It's just a statement to those he tells.

You feel your stomach twist and your blood runs cold. You stop what you're doing and look at him, attempting to keep your expression neutral, despite the fact that he just dropped something so heavy. You flinch when he laughs.

"You're pale as a ghost. That's the best reaction i've gotten so far."

"Sorry," you manage, through a barely there smile. You've never met a widower. It's strange how nonchalantly he let you know about it. "How did Megumi handle it?" You ask, hesitantly, resuming your cleaning of the countertop.

"He didn't know her. This probably sounds dickish for me to say, but i'm glad he still hadn't gotten attached to her, when she passed."

"No. What you said... it's justified," you say, disagreeing with his personal offense. "You're doing a great job with Megumi. He's such a sweet little boy. I don't know your story, but please know that I will never judge you for what's led you to this point. All I will say is that your efforts are visible, and that says a lot about you. More than you may think."

He goes quiet. Not to intentionally make you uncomfortable, he just hasn't felt this good about himself in a very long time. This seems like some sort of illusion. What if he's actually on the ground, passed out from the lack of nutrients in his body and this is his dream? It's such a sweet dream and he selfishly doesn't want to wake up, but Megumi. There's only one way to find out.

He steps closer to you, slowly, while admiring the focus you have on the counter that you returned to a pristine state. When he's directly next to you, he just stands there, silently, until you turn your attention to him. You leave the towel on the counter and look up into his tired eyes.

"Can I give you a hug?" You ask, not moving your hand from where it rests on the surface, until he responds.

He nods and steps into your embrace, and though you're smaller in frame than him, your warmth envelops his entire being at the speed of a lightning strike. He feels the way Megumi must have felt earlier, drawn by your comforting presence. A minute goes by and he still hasn't retracted his arms. He feels a lump in his throat—his emotions are beginning to overpower him. He can't hold them back the way he did before, when he was trying to protect Megumi from you— the person who turned out to be their savior.

He holds you tight against him, uncaring of the vulnerability that rushes him as he lets you surround him. He's crying into the shoulder of a stranger, and in that moment, there's nothing wrong with it. There will never be anything wrong with it. The thought of possibly never seeing you again induces more tears and makes him hold onto you even tighter. He doesn't want to leave. He doesn't want to take Megumi back outside, where people are rude for simply wanting temporary shelter. You showed them a tenderness that he will never be able to get out of his head. He's sure that even if you never reappear in their lives, Megumi will ask about you over and over again, the same way he relentlessly asked for those birthday pancakes.

"I'm sorry," he croaks, muffled by your shoulder. You respond by simply hugging him tighter. He still isn't letting go, and you've decided that you won't be the first to pull away. It doesn't cost you a thing to be his confidant for a moment. Who knows how long he's had this all pent up? He can't exactly break down in front of the person who relies on him. Especially, when it's a child who could easily be frightened by the sight of an adult crying.

He squeezes you once more, before loosening his hold on you. His arms still cling to your sides and he's still really close, but now he's looking into your eyes, the blurriness subsiding as he blinks. You offer him a warm smile, hoping it brings the slightest bit of comfort to him, but he doesn't say a thing. He just keeps looking into your eyes. Your enticing, welcoming, entirely dreamlike eyes.

"You're gonna be okay, Toji." You pull his hands into yours. His hands are manly and rough, his knuckles dry as you brush them with your thumbs. "I promise, both you and Megumi will be fine."

"You promise?" He says, the volume of his voice reduced to almost a whisper. His gaze is softened entirely as he looks at you.

"Yes, I promise," you respond. "I've never done this before— picking a stranger up off the street, much less a package deal—but I don't regret meeting you and Megumi." You squeeze his hands, before letting them go. "I'd like to help you."

Toji's heart pangs. He's trying not to get his hopes up, but it really sounds like you're about to rescue them.

"It would be heartless of me to house you for only a night, just to release you both into the same struggle you went through before. Megumi's feet need to heal and i'm sure you need to heal, as well. You both just really need to rest," you say.

"What?" He immediately feels stupid. He heard everything you said, but the astonishment he felt, spoke before he could think of what to say.

"You guys wanna be my roommates?" You simplify. "I know you barely know me and I barely know you, but people find roommates on websites all the time. It's not really so different this way, is it?"

He laughs, the sound somewhat congested from his previous wave of emotions. "Guess not."

You chuckle. "There's not much to watch out for with me. I go to sleep late so you might hear me laugh at something stupid on my phone, but that's about it."

His heart is racing. He already proved that this isn't a dream, but it's all so much. It's so sudden. Of course he's not gonna say no. Him and Megumi are finally somewhere safe, with someone who cares and isn't asking for anything in return. You want their company. You interacted with them, you tried to get to know them. You tried to get to know him. You let him get close enough to hold you and cry on you, and through it all, there wasn't a single ounce of judgement from you. Of course he's not going to say no. Who would pass up an opportunity like this?

"No...? Yes...? I swear i'm not that bad," you say, laughing.

"I would be real stupid to say no, and that's something I can't afford to be."

You smile. "Perfect." You pick up the towel and throw it into the used pile. "You should probably go to bed. You haven't rested properly in a while. Some sleep would do you good."

He nods. "Yeah, but are you done out here? You need help with anything? I know me and the kid were pigs for leaving our plates unwashed like that. I swear it won't be like that all the time with us."

"You're okay. I'll give you a pass this time because you just got here." You give him a teasing smile. "And yeah, i'm all finished here. I'll head to bed in a few minutes."

You said that you were done and then you continued to organize more things in the kitchen, so Toji stayed to keep you company. You turned down his help multiple times, so he ended up getting comfortable by leaning back on the kitchen counter. He watched you walk back and forth, putting the dishes you washed back in their place.

One day you won't lie about things being done so that he can run off to relax while you continue to do things alone. You'll get better at asking him for help and if you don't, he'll have to be more insistent, but for now, he's content with lingering so that you aren't alone.

Haikyuu-bu Chapter 88: Bigfoot Hyakuzawa Sighted