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Summary
Toji didn’t take you as interesting enough to be looked at. Elbow on the bar, cheek propped in a fist, while smoke trailed and hovered from the corner of his mouth: “Just thought you’d like a second opinion on this. Before you blow a shot in the dark, take yourself in the leg.”
“You don’t strike me as the type to think twice,” words came out more honeyed than they sounded in your mind. Like silk, your gaze brushed the path from jaw to shoulder, rested a bit longer where his T-shirt lined the skin.
There was pride in his voice, in how his cheekbone reached eyelashes and his lip hiked to match. “I don’t hit twice.”
(staring down at the blood on your hands, it’s hard to believe things would ever get back to as they were. but when you cross paths with someone twice as rotten, you cannot but hope he’ll help you clean them.)