𝜗ৎtoji isn’t really the thoughtful type.
not in the way that remembers anniversaries or buys little gifts “just because.” he loves you, sure—but he also forgets where he put his keys half the time and thinks romance is just staying instead of leaving.
so you never expected much.
never expected flowers. never expected surprises. never expected anything, really.
which is why it catches you off guard when he comes home one evening, drops his jacket on the chair, and wordlessly tosses something onto the table in front of you.
it’s a keychain.
cheap. plastic. a tiny panda with slightly too-big eyes and a round little tummy.
you blink. once. twice.
“…what’s this?” you ask, picking it up carefully, like it might disappear.
toji shrugs, already heading for the fridge. “saw it.”
that’s it. no explanation.
you look at him, then back at the panda. it’s kind of stupid. kind of cute. very random.
you’re about to tease him when he adds, almost reluctantly, “reminded me of you.”
you freeze. because aw.
“the eyes,” he says, scratching the back of his neck, not looking at you. “and… it’s got that little belly thing going on.”
your heart does something embarrassing and traitorous.
you stand up, walk over to him, still holding the keychain. “you think i look like a panda?”
he hums. “cute. soft. looks harmless but probably isn’t.”
you laugh, and before he can react, you lean up and press a quick kiss to his cheek.
toji stiffens like he wasn’t expecting that at all.
“…what was that for?” he mutters.
you smile, looping the keychain onto your bag like it’s the most precious thing you own. “nothing. just… thanks.”
he watches you for a second longer than necessary, then turns away, ears faintly red.
yeah. maybe he doesn’t always care in obvious ways.
but somehow, this—this stupid little panda—means everything.
