DROP SOME STONES
AND VISIT MY OTHER DBZ FANFIC IMMEDIATELY. I COMMAND YOU.
Regardless,
Love author-kun♥️💋♥️
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The cafeteria was a storm of noise and stale steam, but Toji moved through it like he always did—untouched, unbothered, a blade sliding through fog. Enid trailed behind him, trying not to look like someone who had spent the entire morning wearing a glow she couldn't hide if she tried.
They reached an empty table near the windows. Toji sat. Enid sat too close, then scooted half an inch away to pretend she hadn't. Her knee still brushed his.
She didn't comment. He didn't either.
For a while, they just ate. Or rather, Toji ate. Enid was picking at her lunch like she was auditioning to play "Distracted Werewolf #3" in a school play.
Then she tried again.
"Toji," she said softly, nudging his arm, "are you absolutely sure you don't want to join my Poe Cup team? Because I can totally make space for—"
He didn't even let her finish the sentence.
Toji caught her chin with two fingers and kissed her—clean, quick, unavoidable. Not romantic. Not rushed. Just decisive.
By the time she registered that it happened, he was already back to eating.
"No."
She stared at him, stunned. "Is… is that seriously how you say no?"
"Only to people I like."
Her whole face went pink, then red, then something bright enough to challenge the overhead lights. She sank in her seat, clutching her tray like a shield.
"That is NOT normal," she whispered.
"Didn't say it was."
Students passing by tried to pretend they weren't stealing glances. Whispers rose, then died when Toji's gaze swept their direction. The rumors had already started, and the cafeteria was starving for confirmation.
But Toji didn't give them anything. He just sat there, an immovable force, his knee resting comfortably against Enid's—and staying there.
Enid poked her food again, trying to look casual. She failed.
Before she could embarrass herself further, someone slid into the seat beside Toji with the confidence of a man stepping into traffic and assuming he'd live.
Xavier.
"Hey guys," he said, all fake warmth and strained charm. "Hope you're enjoying lunch.
And Toji just a heads up but if you're planning to shut me up with a kiss too, I'm calling harassment."
Toji didn't even blink.
"I'd sooner put a knife in your throat."
Xavier was mid-sip. The soda burst out violently, drenching his shirt, pants, and dignity. Students in the nearby tables winced in sympathy. Enid actually slapped the table trying not to laugh.
"Why," Xavier groaned, staring at his ruined clothes like they'd betrayed him, "does everything bad happen to me when you're around?"
Toji didn't answer. He didn't even look at him.
Enid leaned forward, whispering, "Xavier, maybe don't provoke the man who once crushed a doorknob by accident?"
"That was ONE TIME!" Xavier snapped, distressed.
Toji finally spoke. "Move."
Xavier scrambled out of the seat so fast he nearly slipped on the soda puddle.
Enid watched him go, then leaned her shoulder against Toji's—barely touching, just enough to feel him.
"You know," she murmured, "that wasn't very nice."
"Didn't ask you to like it."
"I didn't say I didn't."
He glanced at her. Her eyes were shining again. Warm. Open. Too honest for someone who lived in a world full of claws.
She held his stare, biting her lip to keep the grin down.
"And for the record," she added, nudging him with her knee again, "if you ever want to say yes to me… you don't have to use your words either."
He looked at her for a long, quiet second.
Then, very faintly, Toji smirked.
And that alone sent Enid burying her face in her hands again, whining into her palms.
Lunch went on around them—loud, messy, full of eyes—but Toji and Enid might as well have been sitting in their own world.
Close. Still. Unshakably theirs.
---
The hallway after lunch felt packed, but Toji moved through it like he always did—unbothered, cutting through bodies and whispers with the precision of a blade sliding through silk. Enid had to jog a step to keep up with him.
People stared.
Of course they stared.
Rumors had already hit critical mass. Something about "them disappearing together for a night," mixed with "why is Toji touching Enid like that," and sprinkled with "didn't he just divorce Wednesday Addams?"
None of it slowed him.
Enid, however, kept fiddling with her sleeves and biting the inside of her cheek. She was glowing and panicked all at once.
"Toji," she whispered, glancing at a group of siren girls whispering behind their hands. "They're staring like—like we're a Netflix special."
"They can keep staring," he said without looking up. "I don't owe them an explanation."
Enid blushed at how casually he said that. "Yeah, well… I might spontaneously combust."
"You won't."
Her heart hammered at how certain his voice sounded. Like he'd just declared a fact about gravity.
They reached the courtyard—gray sky, cold air, empty space—and Enid finally breathed.
"Toji?" she said quietly.
He stopped.
Turned his head toward her.
She looked suddenly unsure—not shy, not embarrassed—just… vulnerable in a way she rarely allowed herself to be.
"That kiss," she said. "The one earlier. I'm not complaining. Obviously. But it kinda felt like you were shutting me up."
"I was."
She blinked. "Okay, wow. Brutal honesty today."
"Do you want me to lie?"
"No," she muttered. "Just… maybe not swing the truth like a sledgehammer."
He studied her for a moment. Her hair slightly wind-tossed. Her cheeks still faintly flushed. Her eyes too open, too earnest. Too much like someone who could get hurt.
"I liked it," he said simply.
Enid froze. Her breath hitched. Her mouth parted—
"Do you want me to apologize?"
"No!" she blurted, then winced at how loud she'd been. "I just… didn't expect you to use my face as a mute button."
"It worked."
And a voice cut in:
"Toji. Enid."
They both turned.
Wednesday Addams stood a short distance away, posture immaculate, expression unreadable. Black-on-black and pale as moonlight, she looked like a bruise the world forgot to heal.
But this time—this moment—there was no marriage between them.
No obligation.
Only aftermath.
Enid straightened awkwardly. Toji remained still.
Wednesday approached with slow, precise steps. When she reached them, her eyes flicked first to Enid's flushed cheeks… then to how close the two stood.
"News spreads quickly here," Wednesday said plainly.
Enid swallowed. "Wednesday, we—"
"You are not required to explain yourselves,You don't owe me anything Enid" Wednesday cut in. "We are divorced. Legally and cleanly."
Her tone didn't waver, but something underneath it trembled like a plucked string.
Enid's face softened. "Are you… okay?"
While Enid has "stolen" Wednesday husband that doesn't mean she hates Wednesday. She was her friend and she still cares about her but now with what happened with toji she don't know what is their relationship.
"No," Wednesday answered calmly. "But that is not your responsibility."
Toji raised a brow. "You pushed for the divorce."
"I did," Wednesday agreed. "But I did not expect you to… transition so quickly."
Enid's heart clenched. "It's not that simple."
"It never is," Wednesday murmured.
She turned her gaze fully on Toji now. Sharp, dissecting, but strangely gentle around the edges.
"I do not resent either of you," Wednesday said.
"We were a poor match. I forced it. And you—both of you—are now behaving like people making choices for themselves. That's more than I gave either of you credit for."
Enid looked stunned.
Toji didn't blink.
He acted as he didn't care but his quickening heartbeat gave him away
Wednesday exhaled once, slow and controlled.
"Enid—take care of him."
Enid nodded, voice barely above a whisper. "I… I'll try."
"I know you will."
With that, Wednesday stepped past them. No theatrics. No last look. No whispered curses.
Just quiet acceptance.
A ghost excusing itself from the room.
Enid watched her go, shoulders curled inward. "That felt… heavy."
"It's done," Toji said.
"Still hurts."
"For her," he corrected. "Not for me."
Enid looked up at him—really looked—and realized he meant it. There was no bitterness. No guilt. Just a man who had walked out of a dead marriage and didn't plan to turn back.
But if she had looked a second longer she had might have seen the glint of regret in his eyes. But Toji luck was heavenly.
She stepped closer.
Maybe too close.
But neither of them moved away.They were way passed that stage.
"Toji," she whispered, "does this mean we're… something?"
He didn't answer right away. He studied her—the way her hands trembled just slightly, the way her eyes held both fear and hope.
Finally, he spoke.
"We're whatever we decide to be."
Her breath caught.
"And what do you decide?" she asked.Her tone was hopeful.
Toji reached out, tilting her chin up lightly between two fingers. His touch was cool, steady, dangerous in its tenderness.
"I decided…" he murmured, "that you're not leaving my side anytime soon."
Enid's knees nearly buckled.
Her fantasy had come into fruition.
"Good," she whispered. "Good."
They stood there in the quiet courtyard, the world shrinking down to two breaths and a heartbeat.
But neither noticed Thornhill on the balcony above them, smiling behind her mug of tea, eyes glittering with a kind of interest she shouldn't have.
She quietly wondered if Toji had any interest in Milfs but quietly shook her head to dispell such thought.
Fortunately for her Toji was a Milf lover but alas she would never know...Right?.. RIGHT???