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The night was dark, darker than usual. The stars were absent, dark grey clouds looming in the sky. Y/n sipped her tea as she leaned her head against the window, knees pulled comfortably up to her chest, soft socks adorning her cold feet.
The soft orange glow of a lamp casted a warm sheen over the hardwood floors. It was late, later than y/n was usually awake. She was thinking, thinking too much about a habit she just couldn't quit.
That habit had a name. Toji Fushiguro.
He was rude, he took advantage at any point he could, he was involved in shady things, and he was a little perverted.
Yet still, y/n couldn't stop thinking about him, couldn't stop letting him in whenever he showed up at her apartment. The only way she could describe Toji Fushiguro was to say that he was like a drug she couldn't quit. She would always be the one to tell him to leave and to not come back, but she was also the one who opened the door every damn time.
It had been three weeks since she'd seen Toji, and y/n was convinced that he really wasn't coming back this time. Somehow, that thought made her chest ache.
The girl sipped her tea and let out a soft sigh, watching the occasional cars pass by on the street. She didn't miss him, she really didn't. He could stay gone, he was bad to have around.
And yet, when y/n heard three hard knocks on her door, she still put her mug down and made her way to the door.
This was stupid, what if it wasn't him?
But what if it is?
The girl squeezed her eyes shut briefly, prying them back open as her hand found the cool metal knob, twisting it open slowly.
And there he was, sopping wet, hair dripping, clothes slightly torn, sticking to his skin. He had one hand pressed against his lower abdomen, dark blood leaking out between his fingers.
And his face, that stupid fucking face that y/n had to admit she'd missed.
"Hey, doll." He gave her that same annoying grin he always did, even though he was fucking bleeding.
"You fucking idiot." She said through her teeth. "Get in here."
So he did, he walked- limped- right into her apartment, tracking in mud and rainwater. Y/n closed the door with more force than necessary, making sure to lock it.
"Why are you here? All bloody on my doorstep?" She asked through clenched teeth, staring at him as he stood in her living room.
Toji clicked his tongue, keeping his mouth shut. In truth, he didn't know why he was there, either. He had always just used people when it benefited him then threw them away, but he couldn't seem to do that with y/n.
He didn't know why he was there, all bloody on her doorstep, as she'd put it.
All he knew was that when he had finished his last job, all beaten and bloody, all he wanted was to see a certain woman who always put up with his shit and treated him like he was worth something.
It wasn't love, it couldn't be love. He hadn't felt that since his wife had died, but it was something akin to love. It was a familiar yet unfamiliar ember that was burning in his chest. It couldn't be love, because he didn't know how to love. Not anymore.
It wasn't love.
That was what he told himself, but what else do you call it when your body moves on its own? When it takes you down familiar streets in the middle of a downpour? When your feet carry you to someone's doorstep when you don't even know if they'll open the door, but you're hoping that they will.
What would that be called?
"I don't know." He hunched over a little, blood dripping onto the floor.
"Stupid." She grabbed his wrist, pulling him to the bathroom. "You're so stupid."
Yeah, he thought, maybe I am.
Y/n flicked the bathroom light on and told Toji to sit down on the closed toilet lid, her voice told him it wasn't a request, it was an order.
"Ordering me around, huh?" He still did as he was told.
"Can't shut up for five minutes, huh?" She mocked.
Toji let out a small chuckle. Yeah, this is what he'd wanted. He wanted to hear that bite in her tone directed at him, he wanted to see a fire lit in those pretty eyes.
Fuck.
Y/n pulled out her first aid kit and opened it. "Take off your shirt, you look like a wet rat."
"Yes ma'am." He took off his wet shirt and threw it in the tub.
Y/n stayed silent as she looked over his wound, a deep gash nestled right above his hip. Her eyebrows furrowed as she began to clean and disinfect the would.
The moment felt oddly intimate, a splash of tension and frustration thrown in.
Toji was silent, for once. No suggestive comments, no teasing, he was just... there.
Y/n's lips were firmly turned down. She was angry and worried, and angry that she was worried. She hated it. She hated that she cared. She knew what line of work Toji was in, she had seen the scars, overheard the phone calls.
Yet still, nothing seemed to sever the feelings she had for the man. Y/n's soft fingertips left a trail of heat in their wake, a heat that burned hotter than anything Toji had ever felt.
The way she touched him was foreign to him, it was so gentle, so warm. It wasn't rough or angry like her expression.
"You do dangerous work." Y/n said, a statement, not a question.
"I do." He answered.
She didn't say anything after that, just quietly stitched up his wound. His muscles flexed each time the needle pierced his skin, and y/n got some sort of sick satisfaction at the sight of him in pain. It upset her, too, but she wanted him to hurt. She wanted him to show his emotions for once.
"You're being a little rough, ain't 'cha?" He grunted when she pulled the thread a bit too hard.
"Well excuse me." She grumbled. "I'm not a fucking doctor."
Toji knew she was mad, that much was crystal clear, but she still didn't throw him off her doorstep. She still didn't yell at him or ask questions.
Her actions always spoke louder than words.
Toji let out another grunt. "I know that, brat."
"You're pissing me off." She warned, but her hands were as soft as ever, the over-pulling of the thread stopping.
"You should've told me to leave." His voice came out lower and rougher than he expected.
Her angry facade cracked when she finally looked up at him, tears stinging her eyes. "How could I do that?"
Something in Toji cracked, a long forgotten feeling rising within him. He had only planned to use her, to just stop by when he needed and leave when he didn't. Somewhere along the way, the months blended together and every moment he spent with her became something he craved when he was away.
She was the only one to treat him like he mattered and, fuck, did it feel good to matter.
"I know you've only been using me, you made that abundantly clear." Y/n took in a shaky breath, tying off the stitches. "But I can't just act like you don't mean anything to me, like I'm not fucking waiting for you to show up at my door."
Y/n wet a cloth as she spoke, wringing it out before walking back over, tilting Toji's face up. "I can't say that I don't expect anything from all of this, because if I'm honest with myself." She started to gently wipe the blood and dirt off of his face, a touch he had never known. "I want more. I know it's a bad idea, that you're not a good person, but I crave you."
He huffed a laugh, voice rough and strained. "You shouldn't," He muttered. "You'd be smarter if you didn't."
"I want more, more than this." She kept on, cloth moving down his neck.
"People like me don't do more." He spoke, voice low.
"That's a lie, and we both know it." She spoke, briefly looking him in the eye.
He grabbed her wrist, halting her movement, not hard, just firm. "I shouldn't be saying this." He grumbled, jaw flexing. "But I want more, more than I planned."
Y/n stared, her eyes filling with so much hope that it almost made Toji sick, seeing how much she cared for him.
"Love you, stupid girl." He muttered. "That's all I've got, okay?" He looked at her, raw honesty in his gaze for once. "Take it or leave it."
Y/n let out a small breath, her shoulders sagging. "I'll take it."
She leaned down and pressed a soft but firm kiss to his lips. He tasted like cigarettes and blood, but y/n didn't care.
Toji reached his other hand up and placed it on her waist. She tasted like spearmint and tea, and it was so familiar that it made his chest ache in a strange way. It was a taste he hadn't forgotten, not even after three weeks of being away.
He yanked her down into his lap and y/n yelped at the sudden action.
"Idiot, you're hurt." Y/n pulled away and glared at the male, who only smirked in response.
"Wouldn't that be a way to go." He laughed, the sound low and teasing, making y/n shiver a little.
Yeah, she didn't care what he did, or who he was. He was there, and that was all she needed from him.