You were curled on the sofa, a blanket over your legs, scrolling idly through your phone. The quiet was comfortable, broken only by the rhythmic tap of water on glass.

Then came the knock. Three firm, unmistakable raps against your door.

You got up, the blanket pooling at your feet. Through the peephole, you saw him. Toji stood under the dim hallway light, shoulders damp from the rain, one hand shoved in the pocket of his dark jeans. He wasn’t looking at the door; his head was tilted slightly, gaze fixed on the wall opposite, as if giving you a moment to decide.