Extra chapter as today was pretty great not to mention how much support you guys show.
Thank you so much...
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Time stretched in the room, slow and syrup-thick, the kind that makes every small movement feel louder than footsteps on cold marble. Enid sat beside him, knees pulled up, fingers drumming lightly on her pajama pants like she was trying to coax courage out of cotton.
Toji didn't look at her. Not directly. He stared at the opposite wall, the fairy lights trembling faintly, casting tiny shadows like distant campfires. He looked like someone bracing for a storm he already knew was coming.
Enid nudged him with her knee. A soft, almost accidental kind of nudge.
"You're doing that thing again," she said, voice light but edged with concern.
"What thing."
"The thing where you stare into the void like it owes you money."
He blinked once. "Maybe it does."
She snorted, then instantly tried to hold back her smile, which only made it brighter. "You know most people try to hide the brooding. You've made it into a hobby."
"If I start charging, I'll let you know."
"You better. I want a discount."
He turned his head at that. Not fully, not dramatically, just enough to meet her eyes. Her smile softened the instant she caught him looking, all bright bravado melting into something gentler.
"Thanks for coming," she whispered, not quite trusting her own volume. "You didn't have to."
"Didn't say I had to," he replied, voice low. "Just… ended up here."
She leaned back in her chair, studying him like she was trying to read a folded map. "You always end up here when you're upset."
He stiffened. "I'm not upset."
She tilted her head. "Right. You're just sitting in my room at night, staring at my wall like you're waiting for it to confess to something."
His silence wasn't denial so much as reluctant agreement.
Enid's hand brushed his again, this time deliberate. "Was it about Wednesday?"
His jaw flexed. "Not everything is."
"But some things are," she murmured.
He didn't respond. The quiet answered for him.
She shifted closer, just a small move, but it changed everything. Her shoulder almost touched his arm now, warm and earnest. "You know," she said, voice lightening again, "for someone who tries to act like an immovable statue, you're really incredibly obvious."
"To who?"
"Me," she replied simply.
He glanced at her. She was looking right at him, eyes bright but steady. No judgment. No pressure. Just presence.
It made something unsteady pulse through his chest. Annoying. Calming. Dangerous.
"You're not scared of anything, are you?" he muttered.
Enid laughed softly, shaking her head. "I'm scared of a lot. But I'm not scared of you."
Toji's fingers twitched, just slightly. As if part of him wanted to pull his hand away and another part wanted to let it stay exactly where it was.
She noticed. Of course she noticed.
"You act like you're all knives and rough edges," she teased, but her tone was warm, not mocking. "But half the time you look like you're trying to figure out how to sit without breaking the furniture."
"Your furniture looks flimsy."
"It's literally solid oak."
"It looks flimsy."
She shoved his shoulder lightly. "You should try letting yourself relax. Just once. For science."
"To prove what exactly."
"That you won't combust if you're happy for two minutes."
He scoffed, a sound that might have been a laugh if he wasn't so committed to pretending otherwise. "You really want to test me that badly?"
Her eyes sparkled with mischief. "I like experiments."
He leaned in, slow and deliberate. The room held its breath. Enid held hers too, lips parting just slightly in surprise.
"Toji—"
"You keep pushing," he murmured, "and one day I might actually listen."
Her cheeks flushed so quickly he almost blinked. "I'm… pushing?"
"You don't even realize it."
She tried to recover, straightening her back, fluffing her hair, doing anything except looking flustered. "Well… maybe you need to be pushed."
"Maybe I don't."
"Maybe you do."
He let the silence settle again, thick as warm dusk. Then, without warning, he reached out and flicked the small teddy bear printed near her knee.
She froze. "...did you just flick my bear."
"It was staring at me."
"It's literally two dots and a smile."
"It was smug."
Her mouth fell open in theatrical offense. "You are impossible."
"You're dramatic."
"Oh? And you're what, a ray of sunshine?"
He looked at her, deadpan. "Clearly."
She burst into laughter, the kind that starts in the chest and escapes before you can catch it. And for a second, just a single heartbeat, Toji let himself watch her without any armor on.
Warm. Loud. Alive.
Then he looked away before she noticed.
Enid settled beside him again, closer this time, like gravity was making decisions neither of them said out loud.
"You can stay as long as you want," she whispered. "Even if you don't talk. Even if you just sit here trying to intimidate my pajamas."
"They should be intimidated."
"They are fearless."
He shook his head slowly, but she caught the tiny ghost of a smile that betrayed him.
The quiet didn't feel heavy anymore.
It felt like a place he could breathe.