Enid closed the gap between them with the bright, fearless softness she always carried like a second heartbeat. Her fingers slipped around his hand, warm and gentle. Toji hesitated, the tension in his shoulders tightening for a moment… but he didn't pull away.
If anything, the stillness in him deepened.
Enid watched him carefully, the way someone watches a sleeping wolf to see if it wakes teeth-first. Then she began to stroke her thumb along the back of his hand, slow, testing the boundaries he never bothered to explain.
Toji stayed silent long enough for her to wonder if she'd misread everything.
Then he murmured, "What do you want, Enid?"
She could've teased. Could've laughed. Could've turned it into some breezy comment that danced around the truth. But she didn't. Not this time.
Instead, she took a soft breath and said, "Wednesday asked for the divorce… didn't she?"
He stiffened, eyes narrowing. "How do you know?"
Enid's smile was small, knowing, a tiny curl of triumph she didn't bother hiding. "I didn't at first. But now? Yeah. I do."
Toji dragged his free hand down his face, muttering something that sounded suspiciously like a curse. The realization hit him hard. He'd walked into that one.The oldest trick in the Fucking book
Enid's amusement faded the second she saw the change in him. She reached up, cupping his jaw with her palm, tilting his face toward her with a touch softer than breath.
"Hey," she whispered, eyes steady. "It's alright. It wasn't your fault."
Toji paused-then—unexpectedly—laughed. A rough, genuine sound he didn't seem to have planned.
Enid jerked back slightly, scandalized. "Why are you laughing?!"
He looked at her with a tired kind of humor. "Because I'd have to be an idiot to think it was going to last. We both knew it was hanging by a thread. I only agreed because a very old woman demanded it."
Enid couldn't fight the tiny snort that escaped her.
Her hand was still on his cheek. She didn't move it. He didn't push it away. Something fragile and unspoken settled between them, a breath they both held without noticing.
Finally, Enid shifted back just enough to sit beside him on the edge of her bed. Their shoulders brushed. Their legs touched. It felt inevitable.
"Toji?" she said after a moment. "There's… something I wanted to ask."
He raised an eyebrow. "If it's about feelings, I'm leaving."
She rolled her eyes. "Relax, samurai. It's school stuff."
He folded his arms, waiting.
"For the Poe Cup," she said. "I need team members. Someone who won't cry when they fall in the mud. Someone who can actually paddle a canoe without existential angst. Someone…"
She looked him up and down.
"Someone like you."
Toji stared at her, unimpressed. Then said
"No."
She blinked. "No?"
"No," he repeated, flat as a closing door. "I already agreed to Xavier."
Enid groaned dramatically. "You agreed to Xavier?! Why?"
"He asked," Toji said simply. "And he looked like he was about to choke on his own tongue if I said no."
Enid buried her face in her hands. "I cannot believe this. I'm losing to a guy who journals in tree metaphors."
He shrugged. "He was first."
She peeked between her fingers. "You know, if you wanted to break my heart, you could at least pretend to feel bad."
"I don't feel anything," he deadpanned.
"Liar," she whispered, bumping her shoulder against his.
He didn't deny it.
Instead, he leaned back on his hands, gaze drifting around the room as if it offered answers he wasn't asking for. Enid watched him with quiet affection, something patient and bright threading through her expression.
"Toji," she said gently, "you can still sit with us after the race. Even if you're on a different team."
He glanced at her, and for a beat his guard slipped. "Yeah. I can do that."
Her smile returned, warm enough to soften the corners of the moment. She slid her hand over his again, lacing their fingers without asking this time.
Toji didn't pull away.
He just breathed, slow and steady, like her presence made the room feel safer than it should.
Outside, the fairy lights hummed faintly in the quiet.
Inside, something unnamed grew roots.
And Enid Sinclair held his hand like she planned to keep it.
. Enid's thumb was still brushing the back of Toji's hand, the rhythm steady, like she was trying to calm something she couldn't see.
Toji didn't speak. Didn't move. But his eyes were on her now, fully, openly, like he was seeing her without the old shadows tugging at the edges.
Enid swallowed once, nerves flickering in her chest. "You know," she whispered, "you're… really easy to sit with. Even when you're being impossible."
His lips twitched. "You make it sound like a talent."
"It kind of is." Her voice softened. "You don't feel like knives to me either."
That made him go still again.
Their faces were close now, closer than either of them had meant for. Her knees brushed his. His breath warmed her cheek. Her hand slid up from his jaw to his cheekbone, fingertips tracing the faint scar there like she was memorizing it.
Toji didn't lean away.
He tilted into her touch.
Enid's heart thudded once, bright and brave. "Toji," she breathed, softer than the glow of her fairy lights.
He looked down at her mouth.
Just for a second.
Just long enough.
Enid closed the last inches between them, pressing her lips to his in a quiet, tentative kiss. Warm. Nervous. Honest. It wasn't dramatic or fierce — nothing crashing, nothing wild. Just two people who'd been alone too long meeting in a gentle middle.
Toji froze for half a heartbeat.
Then he kissed her back.
Slowly at first, like he wasn't sure he had the right. Then deeper, steadier, something grounded blooming where hurt usually lived. His hand came up to rest on the side of her waist, fingers spreading like he needed the anchor.
Enid's free hand slid into his hair. Soft. Careful. She smiled into the kiss, a tiny curve he felt more than saw.
They broke apart only when breath forced them to. Toji kept his forehead against hers, eyes half-lidded, voice low and unused to tenderness.
"You're… something else."
Enid's cheeks flushed, glowing in the soft light. "Is that good?"
He let out a quiet exhale — almost a laugh, almost a sigh. "Yeah," he said. "It's good."
Enid's smile bloomed fully then, bright enough to light the whole room.
They stayed close after the kiss, breaths weaving together in the hush of Enid's room. Her hand was still on his cheek, his fingers still resting at her waist, but neither of them seemed in any hurry to move.
Enid's heart thudded softly beneath his touch. "You… can stay a little longer," she whispered, voice warm as the fairy lights above them. "Just… don't disappear on me yet."
Toji didn't plan on disappearing. Not tonight.
He brushed a strand of her hair behind her ear, slow enough that her eyes fluttered. "I'm here," he said quietly. "For now, I'm here."
The breath she let out trembled, just a little, and she leaned in again. Another kiss, not as tentative this time, deeper, her fingers curling into his shirt like she didn't want to lose the moment. He answered it without hesitation, one hand sliding up her back, pulling her closer until there was barely space left between them at all.
Minutes passed. Or maybe hours. Time blurred when her forehead settled against his and his arm stayed wrapped around her like the world outside didn't matter.
At some point they drifted toward the bed — not in a rush, but with intent, just following gravity and the soft pull of being held. Enid curled into his side, head tucked under his chin, his arm around her shoulders like it had always belonged there.
Nothing was spoken about it.
Nothing needed to be.
The fairy lights dimmed against the quiet rise and fall of their breathing, and the room held its silence like a secret.
Whatever happened after that was theirs alone.
And by the time the moon climbed higher, Enid was sleeping against him, peaceful, safe.
And very much naked with fine drop of sweat lingering on her skin.
Probably tired from all the noise she was making While....You know
Toji stayed awake just long enough to realize he didn't mind the weight of her in his arms.
---
Everyone one who wants a lemon raise your hands
Everyone who don't want a lemon raise your hands.