Toji looked down at Enid — her face buried against his chest, her fingers drawing small, absent circles on the fabric of his shirt. Her breath was uneven, warm against his skin. She looked fragile, like a heartbeat could shatter her. Her usual color, her spark — all dimmed.
He tilted his head, a faint smirk touching his lips. "You look comfortable," he said, voice quiet, teasing, "for someone who's only met me twice."
Enid's eyes lifted, still glassy from tears. "While all that was happening," she said softly, "all I could think about was you."
The words landed like a ripple in still water.
The smirk fell from Toji's face. His eyes widened just enough to show surprise — rare, sharp, and gone in seconds. He hadn't expected that.
Enid didn't notice. Her gaze fell again, voice trembling as she continued.
"The first time I talked to you… when I smelled you… I don't know why, but it stayed with me. You smell… warm. Safe. Like something that could keep the whole world away. I tried to ignore it, but it calms me. Every time I think about you, it just—" she hesitated, "—soothes me. Please tell me you don't think I'm weird. Or invasive."
Toji didn't move at first. His silence was unnerving — too long, too measured. Then, slowly, he reached out and tilted her chin upward, forcing her to meet his eyes.
Their faces were close. Their breaths mingled. His tone, when it came, was low, steady — stripped of warmth, but not cruel.
"You can't control what you find soothing," he said. "It's alright. You're not weird. People have worse desires."
A pause. His gaze flicked to her lips, then back to her eyes.
"Smelling," he added quietly, "is nothing."
Their faces were close — too close. Her breath trembled; his stayed steady. For a heartbeat, the air felt heavy, balanced on something unspoken.
Then Toji drew back just enough. Not coldly — just controlled, deliberate.
Enid's eyes darted away, a faint color rising to her cheeks. She gave a small, nervous laugh, brushing her hair behind her ear. "Sorry… guess that sounded dumb."
Toji leaned back slightly, resting his arms on his knees. "Not dumb," he said simply.
For a few seconds, neither spoke. The silence wasn't sharp anymore — it had softened, like something quietly understood.
Enid exhaled, shy but calmer now. "Thanks… for listening."
Toji nodded once, eyes half-lidded. "You're welcome."
The moment lingered — simple, human, real.
But all moments must end.
Toji lifted his hand, resting it against Enid's cheek. His thumb brushed away a faint trace of warmth beneath her eye as he made her look at him. His tone, when he spoke, was quiet but cold — a still surface with no ripples.
"Tell me," he said, "how exactly does this… confession go?"
Enid blinked, her throat tightening. She took a breath, then another, before words began to slip out.
"It was around four," she said softly. "Ajax called me to the yard. He said he had something important to tell me.
something that would define our relationship."
Toji listened, face unreadable.
"I thought…" Enid's voice cracked slightly. "I thought he was finally going to ask me out. We've been talking since the start of first year. It just felt like it was time."
A sad, nervous smile crossed her lips for a moment — then died. "So I said yes."
Toji tilted his head slightly. "Yes what?"
"Yes, I'll be your girlfriend." Her words came out small, fragile. "And then he just… laughed. Not just him — everyone around him. A whole group of students were standing there, pointing, laughing at me."
Her hands trembled as she spoke. "I didn't even understand what was happening. I asked him what he meant, and he just said—" she stopped, breathing in sharply, "—he said he'd never date someone like me. Someone who can't even wolf out."
Silence settled over the room.
Enid's voice dropped to a whisper. "So I ran. Before I started crying in front of everyone."
For a while, Toji didn't speak. The only sound was the faint ticking of his clock, steady and mechanical. When he finally did, his tone was deliberate — calm, analytical.
"I don't know Ajax well," he said slowly, "but I know he wouldn't do that on his own. He has some feelings for you."
Enid froze, eyes widening. His words hit harder than she expected — not because they were cruel, but because they rang too certain, too detached.
Her face twisted, hurt. "So what, you're saying I imagined it?"
She tried to stand, tears stinging at the corners of her eyes, but Toji's hand shot out — fast, controlled. He caught her wrist and pulled gently but firmly, and she fell against him, landing squarely in his lap.
"Let me go," she said, voice breaking. "I don't want to—"
"Was Bianca there?"
The question cut through her panic. It was sharp, exact, deliberate.
Enid stopped moving, every muscle locking in place. For a few seconds, she couldn't speak. Then, barely audible, she said, "Yes."
Her body seemed to lose its strength all at once. She slumped against his chest, her forehead resting just above his heart.
Toji didn't move. His eyes narrowed, cold calculation flickering beneath the calm.
The room went still again — two steady breaths in the quiet.
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How is it took almost an hour to perfect this...
Drop some stones cuz l need it