Chapter Text
“So,” Kugisaki says. She sounds like she’s going somewhere, but she trails off vaguely and goes to pick at her cuticles. It’s one of the rare times where her nails aren’t done.
“So,” Megumi echoes, biting his lip. They’re hiding out in Kugisaki’s room, mostly because Megumi doesn’t know when, if ever, Itadori is returning to their room.
“Are we going to talk about it?”
“No.”
“I have the video—”
Megumi groans and rolls his eyes. He’s too hungover for this. “Everyone has the video of last night.”
Someone posted the Itadori twin confrontation on their Snapchat story, and it’s spread around their larger friend group like wildfire. The fact that Itadori Sukuna is not only an upperclassman, but notorious around campus doesn’t help quiet down matters at all.
Kugisaki narrows her eyes. “You’re on Sukuna’s side, aren’t you?”
“I’m not on anyone’s side,” Megumi sighs. But from what Sukuna told him last night . . . “Though, if I had to pick one,” he adds, drawing it out with reluctance, trying to figure out if he really means what he’s about to say, “I’d be on Itadori’s.”
He turns it over in his head one more time, and confirms that, yeah, he would be.
Kugisaki’s lips quirk upward, though she tries to hide her happiness with a hum.
“If you’re gonna keep hooking up with Sukuna,” she says, “you might as well start calling Itadori by his first name too, ya know.”
Megumi frowns. It feels like he’s had this same conversation many times, with many different people. “I’m not—we’re not hooking up.”
“You sound upset about that.”
“I’m not.” Megumi is not. “It would just—” He presses his lips together, unsure of where he was going with that. “It would just be easier if we were.”
Sex is easy. Relationships, even though Megumi has never been in one, are not. That, he is sure of.
“So then what are you doing?”
Megumi doesn’t know the answer to that. He isn’t sure if he wants to know the answer to that.
When he woke up this morning, he was alone in his bed, head resting on his pillow, his duvet and blankets pulled up to his neck even though he doesn’t remember falling asleep like that. He has a hazy memory of waking up in the middle of the night, his and Sukuna’s fingers still tightly intertwined, but he isn’t sure if it was anything but a dream.
He has a feeling, though. He has a feeling that Sukuna stayed.
It’s terrifying.
He decides on a non-answer, an answer-adjacent. “We went on one date,” he says, finally admitting that it was, in fact, a date.
“And last night you . . . ”
“We didn’t have sex, if that’s what you’re implying.” Megumi only half-remembers last night, but he’s sure about that one thing.
Kugisaki hums, looking at Megumi out of the corner of her eye. “So you’re dating.”
“We’re not dating.”
“Well, from that video, you two sure seem like you are.”
Megumi flips her the bird.
Kugisaki presses on further. “Do you like him?”
Now this, this Megumi knows the answer to, but he isn’t quite yet ready to verbalize it, or even think about it seriously, especially when he’s sober, so he fends off Kugisaki’s question with a question of his own, “Is Itadori really mad at me?”
After a moment of glaring, Kugisaki sighs and goes along with it. “No,” she says, “not at you. Last night, he was just emotional and drunk. In general, he’s just—frustrated Sukuna’s been avoiding him all this time, yet he’s warmed up to you.”
Megumi’s cheeks heats up at the thought of Sukuna treating him differently than everyone else.
He squeezes his hand into a tight fist and thinks about last night, thinks about the weight, the warmth of Sukuna’s hand in his.
“You should talk to him.”
Chewing on his bottom lip, Megumi averts his gaze. “Probably,” he mutters. “Where even is he?”
Kugisaki leans against her dresser, sliding her hands across her fluffy carpet. “Staying with his boyfriend, whoever that is,” she answers, much to Megumi’s surprise.
“Itadori has a boyfriend?”
“Please don’t tell me ya didn’t notice the hickies.”
Megumi levels her with a cold glare. He knew Itadori had hooked up with someone that weekend he and Sukuna first met, but he hadn’t thought it was an actual thing. He mostly thought Itadori had a friend with benefits since he never told him about it.
“I’m not an idiot.”
Kugisaki snorts. “You aren’t exactly doing a good job of proving that lately.”
“What do you mean?”
Kugisaki’s face hardens, and she falls silent in contemplation, like she’s trying to think of the gentlest way to word it. Megumi has a feeling it’ll still sting no matter how much she tries to sugarcoat it. “The whole Sukuna thing is your choice, but you really should’ve patched things up with Itadori beforehand. You saw how worked up he got after you went on that date with Sukuna.”
She’s right; Megumi knows that. He just—he hadn’t expected things to escalate as much as they did. Hell, he wasn’t even planning on seeing Sukuna last night.
“I guess I underestimated their . . . issues,” he responds, for lack of a better word. Although, he thinks that issues might be the only way to describe what they have going on.
Kugisaki lets out a laugh, and it feels like there’s something else there, something that Megumi is missing. “Twins are . . . a lot,” she says mysteriously.
“Speaking of twins,” Megumi says, wanting to probe deeper, “how’s it going with Maki-senpai?”
“About that . . . ” She isn’t looking him in the eye, and there’s a blush high on her cheeks, and Megumi can’t shake off the ridiculously gratifying sensation that comes from the realization that the tables have finally turned.
“Ya know Mai, right?”
Megumi nods.
“So, ya also know how last night, Mai called me over to talk to Itadori?”
Megumi nods again.
“So, Itadori and I talked for a little while, but then he left to go over to his boyfriend’s place, and then Miwa left to go see Mechamaru, and Nishimiya left because it turns out she had homework due.”
“Please get to the point.”
Kugisaki purses her lips and plays with her bare nails for a little while. Megumi waits for her to crack.
“So,” she says, dragging it out an awkward amount, her voice taking on an odd and evasive tone. “Me and Mai . . . ” she goes on, pointedly not looking at Megumi. “Last night, after everyone left . . . we accidentally slept together—”
“You accidentally—” Megumi’s jaw is hanging open, and he doesn’t know what he’s more shocked by. One, the fact that pretty much everyone except for him is getting some lately. Two, the fact that he’s spent the past few months fully believing that Maki and Kugisaki were going to end up together, only for Kugisaki to sleep with Maki’s twin sister. Or three, the fact that, at this point, Kugisaki has slept with more Zenins than he has.
Three. It’s probably three.
“You, Kugisaki,” Megumi sighs, completely and utterly speechless, “have no right to judge me at all. About anything. Ever again.”
Kugisaki only laughs and pats Megumi on the back, rather forcefully. “I could say the same for you.”
After a couple hours hanging out and studying with Kugisaki in her room, Megumi heads back to his own dorm. It’s a quick walk; she’s only a couple minutes away from East. He usually uses the side entrance to get in because it’s closer to his and Itadori’s room. When he gets over to the side of the building, he nearly trips over his feet because of what he sees—who he sees exiting from the dorm.
“Gojou-sensei.” Megumi’s voice is rough with shock.
He would recognize Gojou’s snow-white, floppy hair and his thin yet tall frame anywhere. Gojou freezes at Megumi’s voice, hands in his sweatshirt pockets, shoulders hunched up. In all the years that Megumi has known Gojou Satoru, he has not once seen him wearing a hoodie. Gojou Satoru is the type of person who likes to seem like he has his life together, even if that couldn’t be farther from the truth, even if composed is the last word Megumi would ever use to describe Gojou Satoru, his legal guardian for a little over half a decade now. A hoodie does not exactly shout composed.
Suspicious. It shouts suspicious.
A long, awkward second passes, and Gojou has recovered, turning around like all is well.
“Megumi!” he says cheerily, his sleazy grin not faltering for even a second. “I haven’t seen you in a while!”
Megumi narrows his eyes. Gojou’s wearing full coverage sunglasses instead of his casual round shades even though grey clouds are completely swallowing the warm sun.
“We had dinner a couple days ago,” Megumi points out. With Gojou living a couple minutes from campus, it’s easy for the two of them to eat out or have dinner at Gojou’s apartment every now and then.
Gojou’s smile twitches, but only for a moment. “Still! Nice to see you here!”
Megumi stammers, “I . . . live here. It’s Saturday afternoon. Why are you here?”
Gojou chuckles, but it sounds a little awkward to Megumi’s ears. “I was just dropping something off.”
Megumi groans. That’s what it was? “You can’t show up at the student dorms, Gojou-sensei.” Especially when you’re dressed like that. “I already told you that if you’re going to send me things, you should just send it to the university mail room.” If it’s another pair of lacy white panties that are suspiciously his size, Megumi might actually report him.
Gojou’s grin only widens. “Who said it was for you, Megumi?”
There’s a beat of silence. Megumi can’t do anything but blink and try to process the gravity of what Gojou just said.
“So,” Gojou lilts, bringing his hands behind his back, rocking on his heels like this is all just a game. “I’ll see you for dinner this Tuesday again?”
“Sure . . . ”
Gojou starts to walk away from the door, and he walks close enough to Megumi that he can put his hand on his shoulder and lean down to mutter into his ear, “And, Megumi, if anyone asks why I was here, come up with a believable lie, okay?”
Megumi blinks, and just like that, Gojou is already across the street and getting into his car parked on the sidewalk.
There are goosebumps running down Megumi’s neck; he feels absolutely fucking wired.
How did Gojou-sensei even get in? You need a key card to—
“Oh my god,” Megumi mumbles under his breath, finally putting the pieces together. He’s fucking one of the students, isn’t he?
All things considered, it isn’t that bad.
Gojou is only thirty-one, and the youngest the student could be is, like, seventeen—sixteen if they’re really smart—and, okay, that’s pretty bad, but not as bad as it could be. Though, Megumi realizes his particular standards for what’s bad and what’s not probably aren’t the most reliable.
He just feels sorry for the kid, whoever they are. They could do so much better.
He shudders at the thought as he walks up the stairs.
He has a chemistry problem set due tonight, but he’s too frazzled by everything that’s happened lately to even begin thinking about it. There’s Sukuna, of course—he needs to call him, thank him for last night, and ask him how he’s doing—but there’s also Itadori. Yuuji, he means. Kugisaki was right. If he’s going to keep doing whatever he’s doing with Sukuna, then he really should start calling Itadori by his first name.
Megumi stops dead in his tracks. Has he—has he already made up his mind about Sukuna?
His teeth dig into his bottom lip as he starts to panic; it’s a bad habit he can’t quite get over. Maybe he can distract himself by doing some school work for once.
He pulls out his key, turns the knob to his room, pushes the door open, and—
“Oh, hey,” Itadori is saying.
He’s dressed in clothes that look—well, they look oddly familiar, really, except Megumi’s never seen him wear them before. They’re monochrome, and Itadori’s more of a bright colors person. The pants are way too long, so they’re rolled up a lot, and his grey pullover is pretty baggy too.
Megumi manages to pull his attention away from Itadori’s outfit and get back to the real issue at hand. “Where—when did you—”
“My boyfriend dropped me off just now,” Itadori explains sheepishly, looking at the ground, rubbing at the nape of his neck, the tips of his ears pink with embarrassment. “Last night, I stayed at his apartment.”
“Boyfriend, huh?” Megumi teases, sitting down on his bed. “You never told me about him.”
Itadori jerks in surprise. He’s smiling, and Megumi doesn’t even think he realizes it. “Yeah, sorry. It’s—it’s a new thing, kinda. I haven’t told anyone who it is just yet, but according to Kugisaki, I haven’t been the most discreet about it.”
“Yeah,” Megumi says with a laugh. “You really haven’t.”
Itadori chuckles sheepishly under his breath.
They can fix this between them. Megumi knows it. They’re still talking like normal—it’s still easy to talk to him. They can do this.
“About last night,” Megumi starts. “I’m sorry that—”
“No, I, it’s not—” Itadori’s brows furrow together, and he lets out a breath of frustration. “That was between me and Sukuna. It’s all between me and Sukuna. You don’t have to be sorry. You shouldn’t have even been involved in the first place.”
“But I am.” Megumi flushes; he hadn’t meant to blurt that out. “I mean, I want to be. Involved.”
Itadori lifts his brows. “Oh,” he utters, almost inaudible. Right after, he lets out a breathy laugh. “Man, you two are really givin’ me mixed signals here.”
Warm scarlet blooms even deeper in Megumi’s cheeks. “No, I mean, what I’m saying is—I should’ve taken you into consideration first,” Megumi explains, working past the embarrassment of Sukuna and what he’s about to say. “You’re my friend, and you mean a lot to me. I want to help.”
Itadori makes a strained noise. Avoiding eye contact, he rubs at the back of his neck; it’s a nervous tick of his, Megumi’s noticed. “Geez, Fushiguro. You’re gettin’ me all red.”
“Dumbass,” Megumi mumbles, chewing on his bottom lip. “It goes both ways.”
With the incoming silence, Megumi realizes they’re at a bit of an impasse. “You know,” he says, trying to start the conversation back up, “last night, Sukuna told me what happened in high school. Not everything, obviously, just part of it.”
Itadori’s head lowers, and he stares at his feet. “I’m overreacting, aren’t I?”
“No, of course not,” Megumi reassures immediately, feeling a little bit angry that Itadori would even think that. Itadori lifts his head, his round golden-brown eyes boring into Megumi’s green. “I get it. Being alone, it’s—”
“Scary?” Itadori asks, his voice a soft tremor of sound.
Megumi sucks in a breath. “At first.”
At first it was scary.
When he was a child, Megumi thought he preferred being alone—he preferred the nights his father would spend drinking at some bar, or out with some woman he’d sell himself to for the night, or even rarer, out on some hit job for the mob. He’d prefer the nights his father didn’t come home smelling of blood and liquor, the nights his father wouldn’t sneak into his room and—
But he wasn’t alone then. He had Tsumiki; she wasn’t his father’s, so he would always leave her alone. She never knew about the nights Megumi wouldn’t spend alone; she never knew, and Megumi never told her, but he still had her, and they still had each other. And even in Gojou’s big, lonely house that could barely be called a home, even with Gojou away on business trips more times than he was with them, he was never really alone. He had her, he had Tsumiki, he had his sister.
The fear, the terror, the fright of being alone and living life alone—no, that didn’t come until later, not until Tsumiki’s accident. At that point, for the first time in Megumi’s life, he was truly alone, he truly felt alone. Gojou wasn’t there for him—he couldn’t be there, he didn’t know how to be there, and he still doesn’t know how to be there. For Megumi, or for anyone. And in that sense, maybe Gojou is the loneliness of them all. It’s a reciprocal thing, loneliness.
Megumi had no one, and no one had him.
But he got used to it—like all terrible things in Megumi’s life, he got used to it.
At first—at first it was scary.
Now, now not so much.
“For you, maybe,” Itadori mumbles, looking down at his hands folded in his lap. “It’s always scary for me.” He takes a shaky breath and goes on, “I was there when Gramps died. He, uh, he told me to make sure I’d be surrounded with people when it’s my time. Kinda faraway advice but, I guess it’s really stuck with me. The thought of dying alone. Being alone forever. Things never really were the same after he died.”
Megumi goes to pick at his cuticles and realizes that his hands are shaking. So he folds them in his lap, much like Itadori is doing now. Origami cranes, paper dogs, and folded frogs come to mind; Tsumiki knew how much he loved animals—Gojou would always let them have as many pets as they wanted, which led to their spacious house teeming with animals in every corner—so she would often make origami animals for him, silently leave them on his bedside table. The animals helped with the loneliness after Tsumiki was hospitalized; it wasn’t the same, but it helped him in those months. It helped him get used to it, helped the house empty of other humans feel a little less empty, helped bring life to Megumi’s lifeless world—at least until he went to boarding school for high school. There, things were a little better; there, Megumi could at least pretend he wasn’t as lonely as he was.
“Sukuna had his reasons, I know, but—” Itadori exhales a long, deep, and frustrated breath. “I just wish he could’ve thought about what I wanted, not just what he thought was best for me. For us.”
Megumi doesn’t like it when his thoughts spiral like this, doesn’t like it when he gets so distracted, but he can’t help it. He doesn’t want things to be like this—he wanted these thoughts, these feelings, these shitty memories buried. Buried deep, buried to never be seen again. He hates it; he hates feeling this way.
His throat feels tight, and he doesn’t quite know why. There’s a lump in his throat and he has to be careful when he breathes.
“Are you okay?”
Megumi realizes he’s fallen silent. He snaps his head back up to look at Itadori, who looks concerned.
Megumi hates it; he hates making people feel concerned about him. He hates being a burden, hates being someone who has to be saved, has to have someone take care of him, but that’s all he is, right? Even Sukuna, time and time again, has to come save him, has to take care of him, has to make him feel wanted.
“Fushiguro—”
Megumi swallows and shakes his head. He can’t keep thinking like this, not right now. “Megumi,” he says, grounding himself. He needs to focus; this isn’t about him. “You should call me Megumi, and I’ll call you Yuuji.”
Yuuji, Megumi tries out in his head. Yuuji.
Yuuji looks surprised, and Megumi doesn’t blame him; his words don’t follow the flow of the conversation, they bring everything to a screeching halt, but maybe that’s what they both need. Maybe that’s all that can be done about this conversation; maybe all possible roads converge at this one dead-end.
“I’m sorry, about Sukuna, and about your grandfather.” Megumi hates that this is all he can say, hates that Itadori is pouring out his heart to him, and all Megumi can say is that he’s sorry.
Yuuji’s kind, gentle expression, however, tells him that it was enough. “It’s fine. My gramps, well, that was two years ago. And Sukuna . . . I’ll deal with him on my own.”
“He really won’t talk to you?”
“Trust me,” Yuuji sighs. “I’ve tried. He has my number blocked, and he’s really good at getting out of places he doesn’t want to be. Tracking him down to this university was hard as shit. Part of the reason why I even chose this place was for him.”
“I can help,” Megumi offers. “I can help you talk to him.”
Golden-brown eyes grow wide. “Fushi—Megumi, ya really don’t need to—”
“I want to.”
“Really?”
Megumi nods. This, he knows he’s sure about.
Yuuji looks conflicted, and he rubs at the back of his neck again. “I don’t know . . . ”
“It’s worth a shot.”
It’ll work, Megumi almost says. A part of him feels a little bad for the plan he’s already devising in his head, but he knows that both Yuuji and Sukuna will be the better for it. He’ll steal a page from Gojou’s book and meddle, just this one time. He’s known Gojou for ten years, and he knows all his tricks by heart, especially involving sibling animosity. (Most of them, the crude ones and the convoluted ones alike, really just boiled down to getting him and Tsumiki alone in a room together, and all Yuuji seems to want to do is to talk with his brother.)
“Okay,” Yuuji mutters shakily. And then he nods his head, stands up, and with more confidence he repeats himself, “Okay. Let’s do it.”
Megumi’s brows knit together in alarm. He hasn’t really thought it all the way through yet. “Um. Now?”
Yuuji makes a noise, then he glances down at himself and looks startled at what he sees, and it occurs to Megumi that he hadn’t even realized he’d started standing. “Oh, hell no,” he says, sitting back down with a hearty smile. “I feel like I’m gonna throw up just thinking about it, not to mention the hangover.”
“Maybe we should quit it with the alcohol. And the parties.” The past two weekends have been a lot less than ideal, at least for Megumi.
Yuuji snorts. “Yeah, maybe we should.”
They fall back into silence. Megumi can’t remember what his plans were once he got back to his room. He isn’t really in the mood to do school work anymore either. He stares at the wall behind Yuuji and the stupid Jennifer Lawrence poster over his bed.
In the silence, Yuuji starts whistling, tapping his feet on the ground, and it isn’t long until he breaks the ice.
“So, um, ya wanna go smoke with Choso?”
Megumi is already grabbing his jacket. “Oh, hell yeah, let’s go.”
Two hours later, they’re back in their room, and the plan’s been set in action.
“Hey, are you sure about this?”
Megumi rolls his eyes. “I already told you I wanted to do it. Don’t chicken out on me now. He’s on his way.”
Yuuji’s bobbing his knee like a maniac. They’re sitting side-by-side on Yuuji’s bed, so Megumi can feel the shaking of the bed; it’s a little annoying if he’s going to be honest, but he understands Yuuji’s nerves.
“He’s gonna be mad ya lied.”
Megumi bites the side of his tongue. His mouth still tastes a little like weed, throat a bit scratchy. “It’s not a big deal. You guys are just gonna talk it out.”
Megumi gave Sukuna a quick call, asked him to come over to his room so they could get dinner together. When Sukuna gets here, Megumi’s going to exit as soon as he can, leaving just Yuuji and Sukuna in the room. He might have to hold the door shut from the outside; he isn’t sure how much Sukuna is going to resist.
He and Yuuji, they’re freeballing it for the most part, like with most things.
“I’ve been trying to talk it out with him for the past two years.”
“Yeah, well,” Megumi hums, looking at his friend out of his peripheral, too embarrassed to look him in the eye. “You didn’t have me back then.”
Yuuji turns to face him, eyes wide and emotional, and Megumi tries to will away his blush.
“Don’t look at me like that, dumbass,” he mumbles when Yuuji doesn’t say anything, pointedly avoiding eye contact. “I have your back, okay? The thing with me and Sukuna—that’s secondary to us, okay?”
“Goddamn it,” Yuuji breathes out, astonished. “You mean it?”
Megumi stares at his hands, wrung together nervously. Yuuji was the first friend he made here, but it’s more than that, more than just an ‘I met you first’ situation. It’s out of more than just a sense of loyalty. “Yeah, I do.”
Friendship has never come easy to Megumi, but Yuuji—Yuuji makes it easy.
Unexpectedly, Yuuji leans against him, his body warm against Megumi’s side, and Megumi feels his heart stutter at the skinship. God, there must be something wrong with him.
“I still can’t believe you’re into Sukuna,” Yuuji says with a laugh. “My twin brother.”
Megumi presses his lips together. “It’s . . . ”
Yuuji sits back up straight to look at him directly, and Megumi misses his warmth already. “It’s . . . ?”
What is it, really?
He hasn’t known Sukuna for long, and he doesn’t even know him that well, and yet—he feels safe. He feels safe when Sukuna’s around.
“I don’t know what it’s about, either,” Megumi admits, playing with his hands. “He’s just—he’s really good to me, and I think he really likes me and—” There’s a full stop, a sudden break in the rhythm as Megumi steels himself for the scariest confession of his life. Saying it out loud is breathing it into existence—it isn’t real if it’s just in your head. Once you say it out loud, there’s no going back.
But isn’t there already no going back?
Megumi has a bad habit of running away—of giving up—of not giving himself a chance. One of the most important things Megumi learned as a kid is that expectations breed disappointment. If you lower your expectations enough, there’s no way you’ll be disappointed in the results. Even if it hurts, even if it hurts more than anything. Risk versus reward—the rewards were never worth the risk, so why even try?
That was what Megumi thought. That was what he thought back then, back when there was no escape, back when hope was the thing that hurt the most.
But now, now, Megumi wants to try. He wants to give himself a chance. He wants to give them a chance.
He takes a deep breath, fingernails digging crescents into his palms, and admits not just to Yuuji, but to himself, “I think I really like him too.”
The words are heavy and strange on his tongue, and he’s left a little breathless with the confession.
“Wow,” is all that Yuuji says. He sounds more out of breath than Megumi.
“What do you mean, wow?”
“I dunno. Just seems. Weird. Not bad weird. I just. I guess—I guess I don’t really know my own brother that well,” Yuuji struggles to explain, scooting back up to lean against the wall, legs hanging off the side of his bed. “I wonder if something changed these past two years. Growing up, he wasn’t interested in anyone like that.”
“Huh.” Megumi had always assumed that Sukuna was naturally the flirty type—it seemed to come easy to him. The pet names, the casual touches, and his attentive gaze.
Is it—has it always just been for him?
There’s a knock at the door. Megumi glances over at Yuuji, who looks like he’s about to shit his pants. “You sure you’re gonna be good?”
“Yeah,” Yuuji breathes out. “Yeah. I’ve been waiting a long time to talk to him. About everything.”
Megumi pats him on the back and gets up, taking a deep breath as he makes his way to the door.
“Hi,” he says, a little breathless as he pulls the door open. His eyes immediately wander to Sukuna’s arms, to the circular tattoos on his biceps. He’s wearing this muscle tee that dips low on his chest, collarbones and tanned skin and a couple moles dotting his neck. God, Megumi wants a taste.
Sukuna’s leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed, this sleazy grin on his lips as he looks Megumi up and down. His hooded gaze eventually settles on Megumi’s eyes, and Megumi feels his mouth go dry. “Hi, sweetheart,” Sukuna hums, his grin softening into a smile, and then—then he notices. Notices that it’s not just them in the room.
“You didn’t,” he hisses, teeth gritted, his warm gaze growing ice-cold. He stiffens up, then sighs, then turns around immediately.
Megumi was prepared for this. His hand reaches out and grabs Sukuna’s wrist just in time. “I did.”
Sukuna’s brows furrow, his shoulders tense up, and his jaw clenches. He tries to shake Megumi’s hand off, but Megumi only grips harder, feeling Sukuna’s muscles hard against his palm.
“Please?” Megumi hates the way that word tastes on his tongue, but he’s far beyond letting something as petty as pride get in the way of things that really matter. Sukuna’s eyes go wide, and his arm goes limp as soon as Megumi utters that word. “Sukuna, I—please? He just wants to talk.”
Sukuna lets out a long exhale through his nose, jaw still clenched. “Let me go,” he grits out, voice low and warning.
Megumi doesn’t think he’s ever seen Sukuna angry.
But, the thing is—Megumi is used to anger. Anger, apathy, loneliness.
At one point in his life, it’s all he knew.
His life is different now. For the first time in his life—he has leverage. He’s the leverage. For the first time in his life, he’s worth something.
“For me?” he whispers, quiet enough that only Sukuna hears.
And Sukuna just lets out a laugh, a low chuckle that has Megumi captivated, that has Megumi halfway to his knees. His body starts to relax now, and Megumi finds his grip on Sukuna’s wrist loosening too. But he doesn’t let go—he doesn’t want to let go.
“You play dirty,” Sukuna sighs, lowering his head, his smile soft and smitten. He looks up at Megumi, pink lashes heavy, dark eyes lidded. The anger—it’s still there, but it’s quieter. It’s—it’s gentle.
Can anger be gentle?
“I know,” Megumi says, pouting softly.
“How am I supposed to say no now?”
Megumi’s lips quirk up in spite of himself. “That’s what I was counting on.”
Sukuna narrows his eyes. “You tricked me.”
“I had to.”
“I even made plans for tonight,” Sukuna sighs, sounding disappointed, but Megumi finds it hard to believe any of that disappointment is genuine. Maybe this is all starting to go to his head—the attention, the care he’s never had. Maybe he’s starting to get a little delusional, a little full of himself—but Sukuna makes it oh so easy to believe.
“Oh yeah? What were those plans?”
“Dinner reservation at that barbeque place downtown. And then we’d go on a walk along the riverfront,” he answers, his eyes not leaving Megumi’s once. “And then,” he rasps, licking his lips, voice beautifully deep, “I’d take you back to my place.”
Megumi sucks in a breath. It’s unfair—it really is. It’s unfair how easily Sukuna can get him all lightheaded, can get him wishing they were more, wishing that they had met earlier, wishing that he wasn’t so fucked up, wishing that he could give Sukuna everything he wants from him. Wishing he was better—wishing he was more.
“I’m sorry,” Megumi says, and he means it. He lowers his head apologetically, stares at his feet.
Sukuna brings his free hand up to take Megumi’s chin, making it so that they’re face to face again. Then he takes a step forward so that his mouth is only a breath away from Megumi’s. There isn’t any air left in Megumi’s lungs; it feels like Sukuna’s stripped him bare, taken away everything painful, everything that hurts.
And that’s the thing—that’s the other thing. Even though Megumi wants to be better, wants to be more, wants to be capable of more because that’s what normal people are—they’re capable of love, capable of relationships, capable of more than just spreading their legs for strangers, for people they barely know. Even though Megumi wants to be more, Sukuna makes him feel like he’s enough.
Sukuna lets go of Megumi’s chin and drags his finger along the slope of his jaw before dropping his hand to his side. Megumi feels dizzy, still feels Sukuna’s lingering touch on his cheek.
“You’re sorry?” Sukuna asks, carefully studying Megumi’s expression.
“I am,” Megumi says, putting as much sincerity behind it as possible.
Sukuna hums. “How are you going to make it up to me, love?”
Megumi swallows hard and tries not to let his heart go into cardiac arrest. “I’ll be the one to plan the next date? Next weekend?” he offers weakly, because he can’t think of anything else.
“You play a hard bargain. I have to do all this just to get another date with you?”
It takes Megumi another moment to realize that Sukuna is flirting with him, and he finds himself cracking a soft smile. It’s fun with Sukuna, he realizes. Being around Sukuna is fun. “I guess I’m not as easy as you thought.”
Sukuna leans in, leans in so that his lips are almost touching the shell of Megumi’s ear—his breath is hot and damp, and Megumi has to stifle a moan when Sukuna’s brush his flesh. “Easy is the last word I’d use to describe you.”
When he pulls away, Megumi sucks in a breath like he was just twenty feet underwater and is now coming back to the surface. “So will you? Talk to him?”
It’s only now that Megumi realizes he’s still holding Sukuna’s wrist. It’s only now, because Sukuna is sliding their hands together, intertwining their fingers. He hadn’t realized his grip was loose enough for Sukuna to do that—hadn’t expected that Sukuna would do that. Even now, Sukuna never ceases to surprise him. “Two years of silence, going on an eternity, all ruined because of one boy.”
Megumi’s smile grows wider.
“Just know that I’m doing this for you. Not for him.”
And while that’s not ideal, it’s all they really need. Megumi squeezes his hand, lets out a quiet, “Thank you,” and releases his grip.
Yuuji hasn’t said a word this whole time. Megumi looks back at him and sees that he’s awkwardly staring at the ground looking terrified. He wants to wish his friend luck, but he isn’t quite sure if luck is what Yuuji needs right now.
His brother. He needs his brother.
Megumi reminds himself of that. Reminds himself that, when it comes down to it, this isn’t between him and Yuuji and Sukuna—it’s just between Yuuji and Sukuna. He’s done all he can. He steps aside and lets Sukuna enter the room fully; it takes Sukuna a moment or two to go through with it, and once he’s passed the threshold, Megumi leaves and closes the door behind him.
He slinks down to the ground, back to the door, and closes his eyes, waiting to hear one of them speak. He’ll leave once they start talking—if they start talking. He doesn’t want to listen in, but he also wants to make sure this wasn’t all for nothing.
“So, brat,” Sukuna spits out after nearly a whole minute. “What hell do you want to talk about?”
Megumi laughs under his breath and gets up to leave.
"They’re still talking?”
Megumi glances over at Maki, wrist relaxed, a cigarette dangling between two of her fingers. He watches the end of the cigarette burn, watches the smoke leave Maki’s lips and twirl into the cold air. It’s just him and Maki sitting outside Maki’s dorm building, their backs to cool brick.
Maki’s been trying to slow down on the cigarettes—she brings Megumi along whenever she goes out for a smoke as a kind of accountability. She picked it up from her father, one of the main family heads.
The Zenins are an old family, and smoking cigarettes is a bad habit most of them learn young. Like father, like daughter. Like father, like son—except Megumi never picked up the habit. It reminds him too much of everything his father did to him.
“Yeah. It’s been a while. I checked in on them half an hour ago and they’re still going at it.” Megumi regrets not grabbing his things. He’ll just have to deal with the late submission penalty for his chemistry problem set; it’s been hours already.
“Were they arguing?”
Megumi hums in thought. He hadn’t listened in for long, but from the outside their voices sounded calm, sounded like they were doing alright. “I don’t think so. They were just talking.”
Maki takes another drag of her cigarette, lips curled into an O shape. “I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re like that for the entire night,” she says. “Whenever I’d come back for summers, Mai and I’d be talking for hours. Well, it’d mostly be yelling, but, y’know.”
“I hope they work it out,” Megumi says, twiddling with his fingers.
Maki doesn’t seem concerned at all.
“They will. They’re siblings, and when it comes down to it—” Maki fits the cigarette to her lips, closes her eyes on the inhale, and holds it down for as long as she can. “When it comes down to it,” she says again, “you can’t really burn that bridge no matter how hard you try.”
Megumi looks up at the sky, the clouds bright with moonlight. He’ll probably have to stay at Maki’s tonight. Her roommate is usually never there on weekends, and he’s slept over before, so it won’t be a problem.
“Did you?” he asks. “Try?”
Maki doesn’t look at him, doesn’t answer either, only flicks ash onto the ground.
Megumi doesn’t blame her no matter what her unsaid answer is. There’s no one who has more reason to hate the Zenins than she does.
But the thing with family is that you never really escape. Unless they’re dead, you can never really escape your blood.
And even then . . .
“That shit’ll kill you, y’know,” Megumi says.
He hates the smell of cigarette smoke—hates the way it cloys, sticks to the back of his throat, heavy and nauseating. Most of all, though, he hates the way it tastes on someone else’s tongue.
He has a feeling that it’s the same for Maki.
“You love this, don’t you? Of course you do. My sweet, sweet boy, taking it all so well.”
Maki brings the cig back to her lips and looks at Megumi out of the corner of her eye as she takes another hit.
“I know.”
He and Maki—they’re alike in more ways than one.
It’s midnight when Megumi gets a call from Sukuna. It’s quick: all Sukuna says is to meet him outside East dorm, then he hangs up immediately.
Maki’s already asleep on the other bed, so Megumi slips out as quietly as he can and makes his way over.
Sukuna’s out by the back entrance, right where Megumi caught Gojou earlier today. The only illumination around is the moon, the stars, and the lights from inside the dorm building.
“How’d it go?” Megumi asks, voice shaking slightly.
Hands in his pocket, he replies, “We’re done for the most part, but he might come over to mine tomorrow morning.”
“Are you guys . . . alright now?”
Sukuna rolls his eyes. “You could say that.”
Megumi frowns. He doesn’t know what that means. “That’s good, I guess.”
“Don’t worry about us,” Sukuna hums mysteriously. “If anything, you should be worrying about how you’re going to make this up to me.”
Megumi swallows. “Another date. I already told you.”
“Hm.” Sukuna steps closer, and Megumi’s heart clenches in his chest. “But you still need to plan that, don’t you?”
Megumi bites his lip. He already regrets promising that. He’s never been much of a planning guy. Sukuna’s staring at him expectantly, and Megumi’s cheeks burn. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get used to that—having someone’s full, undivided attention on him.
“How are you going to make it up to me now, sweetheart?” Crimson eyes, dark and waiting, are on his, and when Megumi breathes, it feels like fire is filling his lungs. He feels a little drunk because of the proximity, feels like he’s about to do something very, very stupid.
There’s just—something about being around Sukuna that makes Megumi think he can take on the world, that makes Megumi think, Hey, maybe you aren’t as fucked up as you thought, that makes him think, Hey, maybe somebody does want you after all.
So he closes the gap, the already barely-there gap between their bodies, and does what he’s been wanting to do for ages now, does what he’s been aching to do for what feels like forever.
Once he’s close enough, he shuts his eyes and prays to god he doesn’t miss Sukuna’s lips. He doesn’t. He kisses Sukuna gently, a flower-soft hint of a kiss, and his heart is beating out of his chest and it feels like he might die, but he pulls back before he kicks the bucket. It was so quick that Megumi isn’t sure if it even happened. However, he opens his eyes once he’s sure they’re apart, and even in the almost-darkness, he sees that Sukuna’s cheeks are pink, that his eyes are wide, that his mouth is slightly parted, as if in shock from the kiss. Oh god, Sukuna’s reaction to the kiss is a sort of gap moe that squeezes at Megumi’s heart, and a warm sort of pride wells up in his chest, billows like the wind during a storm because—yeah, he just did that. Because—yeah, that definitely just happened. For once, he was the one to fluster Sukuna, to catch him off guard.
“Was that okay?” he asks, trying hard and failing hard to keep himself from smirking.
The smirk falls right off his face when Sukuna brings a hand to his waist and lifts his other hand up to cup his cheek. “Not even close.”
Then Sukuna’s kissing him for real, kissing him hard, licking over the wet seam of his lips and prying them apart. Megumi squeezes his eyes shut, gasps when the tip of Sukuna’s tongue runs along the back of his teeth, then slides against his own tongue. And—oh god, his piercing. Megumi forgot about that, but now, it’s all he can think about. Sukuna breaks the kiss with a wet smack but soon recaptures his mouth, takes his bottom lip between his teeth and starts sucking. Megumi whimpers when Sukuna digs his teeth in; he can’t take it, he feels like he’s about to fall, so he grabs onto the collar of Sukuna’s tee, fabric bunched up in his fists, and picks himself back up. He feels lightheaded, but he kisses back as best as he knows how, sweet and sticky and soft; he nibbles teasingly on Sukuna’s lower lip, and by the deep groan Sukuna lets out in response, Megumi can tell that he likes it.
It’s then, however, that Sukuna chooses to pull back. Embarrassingly, Megumi tries to chase his lips.
His mouth is still open, tongue stuck slightly out, and he’s panting. His hands are bunched up in Sukuna’s shirt, and he can barely feel his legs. He vaguely registers that one of Sukuna’s hands is still gripping his hip, and the other is gently brushing his cheekbone with his thumb. Timidly, he opens his eyes, and lets go of Sukuna’s tee. Through dark, heavy lashes, Sukuna looks infuriatingly calm, only a hint of a smile pulling on the corners of his lips.
“Hm,” he says, like he’s in deep thought about something, ruby eyes lingering on Megumi’s swollen, slightly bleeding mouth. “That’s better.”
His hands return to his pockets, and by the time Megumi fully registers how the tables just turned on him, Sukuna is already walking away.
The night passes. By the time he gets back to their room, Yuuji is already fast asleep. By the time he woke up, Yuuji is already gone. He wonders how it went last night. He tells Maki about how he’s a little worried, and she only tells him to stop thinking about it. The problem is, however, if he isn’t thinking about Yuuji, he’s thinking about Sukuna.
He’s thinking about the kiss. Sukuna had kissed him under the moonlight, heavy and wet and just thinking about it has butterflies fluttering in his stomach. Kissing has always just been part of the foreplay, part of the sex—no one’s ever kissed him to kiss him. No one’s ever kissed him like that.
He replays it over and over and over. Over and over and over, until his lips feel numb just from the memory of Sukuna’s mouth on his.
“Please help me,” he tells Kugisaki as soon as she opens the door.
“You’re pathetic,” she deadpans, not even aware of the context, ushering Megumi into her room.
“I’m well aware.” Megumi sits down on the floor, criss-cross applesauce, back resting on a leg of the bed frame.
Kugisaki takes a seat down in front of him, legs crossed as well, her knees touching his. “I have to go to my physics study group soon. Make this quick.”
“Why the hell are you in a physics study group?”
Kugisaki’s glare is scathing. “Because unlike you and Itadori, I’m actually trying to do well in my classes.”
Megumi has nothing to say to that. He bites his lip, eyes darting away in embarrassment. It’s not like he’s even failing any of his classes. He’s just—not doing the best. Especially in the classes where attendance is part of the grade. Test grades are the only thing making up for his abysmal homework and participation components. Yuuji’s the exact opposite—he always makes an effort to go to and participate in class, and he’s always doing the homework too, but testing isn’t his strong suit, apparently.
“So?” Kugisaki asks, moving on without even a second thought. “Why’re you pathetic this time?”
Megumi’s lips press together. Something’s off with Kugisaki this morning. Not terribly off, but she seems a little more on edge, a little more irritable. Megumi doubts it’s because of him. Maybe something happened between her and Maki. Or Mai, even.
“Me and Sukuna are going on a second date, and I said I’d plan it,” he mumbles, trying to get straight to the point.
“And?” Kugisaki sighs, sounding annoyed. “What’s the problem?”
“I’ve.” Megumi pauses abruptly, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He’s been asked out before, but . . . “I’ve never been on a date before. Other than the first one with Sukuna.”
“It’s not that difficult,” Kugisaki replies, her tone softening slightly. “Just invite him over to your room and watch a movie, or something. It doesn’t hafta be a big deal.”
“Netflix and chill? Really? Isn’t that a little slutty?”
Kugisaki gives him an ‘Are you of all people really saying that?’ look, and Megumi zips his mouth shut.
“Then just go somewhere to eat with him,” she sighs, frustration shining through. “Or talk. Or just hang out, really.”
Megumi still feels lost. “But—where? And how?”
Kugisaki only shrugs. “I dunno. Me and Maki went to a sushi place on our first date, if that helps at all.”
Megumi rolls his eyes. “Yeah, and now you’re fucking her twin sister.” He grimaces once the words leave his mouth, realizing how out of pocket that was. He really shouldn’t get involved in whatever’s going on between the three of them. He’s closest with Kugisaki, but he’s known Maki for a long time, and he likes her a lot. Mai isn’t too bad either, from the times they’ve hung out. Whatever’s going on between the three of them seems even messier than what’s going on between him and the Itadori twins, and Megumi really doesn’t want to have to choose sides if—most likely, when—things blow up.
“What does that have to do with anything?” Kugisaki spits out coldly, eyes narrowed. Megumi is grateful she didn’t take as much offense to that as she could’ve.
“Nothing, sorry. I’m just nervous.”
Exasperated, Kugisaki groans. “Fushiguro, why are you even worried about this? Sukuna’s head over heels for you, for some reason. No matter how shitty the date is, he’s bound to be just as in love with you by the end of it. Probably even more.”
“I’m the only one who’ll ever love you—”
Megumi’s jaw stiffens, and he feels his heart start to race. “He’s. Not in love with me.”
Kugisaki just waves her hand vaguely. “Relax. I’m just exaggerating. My point is, he likes you enough that it doesn’t matter what you do on your date. Haven’t you realized that already?”
Megumi stays silent.
“But, more importantly, the fact that you’re even worried about how the date’s gonna go—does that mean you want—”
“No—” Megumi interjects. His knee-jerk response is to deny. Deny deny deny. But the thing is—it feels like a lie. Denying that there’s something real, something tangible between him and Sukuna—it feels like a lie. Denying that he wants something out of it, out of them—now that’s the biggest lie of it all. “I mean, I don’t know,” he amends after a moment. “I don’t know what I want.”
Kugisaki laughs, loud and charmingly brash—just like the rest of her. “I know you, Fushiguro, and I have a feeling that deep down, you do know what you want, but you’re just not happy with yourself for wanting it.”
Megumi’s eyes go wide.
Huh.
He stumbles across Yuuji on the way back from the library. Yuuji has his gym gear slung over his shoulder, his hair still matted with sweat from what Megumi assumes was an especially tough track practice.
“Fushi—Megumi!” Yuuji greets brightly, beaming like sunshine.
“How—how was it this morning? With Sukuna?” Megumi questions without much ado, pulling Yuuji to the side, over to a patch of grass so that they don’t block up the sidewalk. “You were gone by the time I woke up.”
Yuuji’s grin wavers for just a second, his natural brightness flickering out like an old lamplight. “Fine!” he says, and even Megumi can tell he’s putting up an act. “It was—agh. Sorry, that’s a lie. It was really tough, honestly. Talking to him is like pulling teeth, but he did promise he’d stop avoiding me,” he reveals, pouting a bit and rubbing the back of his flushed neck. Megumi doesn’t say anything in response, just letting Yuuji go at his own pace. “No guarantees that we’ll ever be close again, but—well, I guess we weren’t very close to begin with, so—yeah. Yeah. I just—I don’t. I don’t know. But we’ll be fine, I think.”
Megumi nods, trying to be encouraging. “That’s a start. He’ll come around, I bet.”
Doe-eyed and disbelieving, Yuuji puffs out a single laugh under his breath. “Man,” he utters, sighs, almost. “The Sukuna I know and the Sukuna you know must be completely different people. The Sukuna I grew up with was never really one to come around.”
“I’m sorry he’s that way.” Megumi knows what it’s like to be the uncooperative sibling, and he regrets it. He regrets not making things right with Tsumiki before it was too late.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Yuuji reassures, lips pulled into a kind smile, and that’s one of the things Megumi loves about Yuuji—his smile. It isn’t like Tsumiki’s nervous smiles that made it obvious she was worried about him, nor is it like Gojou’s flippant grin that makes it clear he doesn’t give a damn about anything but his own fun. Yuuji’s smile—it’s boyish, warm, and simple.
“I told you already,” Yuuji continues, slinging an arm around Megumi’s shoulders. “It’s a me and him thing. Sibling melodrama, ya know?”
Megumi knows it all too well. He misses it, honestly. He musters up a smile and nods at Yuuji in response.
“So,” he says, putting the issue to rest—for now, at least. “Are you heading back to the dorm?”
Yuuji perks up, like he forgot that they’re still out on the street. It’s honestly adorable. “Yeah, I gotta shower and drop all my stuff off before I go to dinner.”
“I’m heading back too,” Megumi says.
“Cool,” Yuuji replies, and then they fall into an awkward silence as they walk on the path back to the dorm.
Because Megumi is Megumi, and Yuuji is Sukuna’s twin brother, Megumi feels like he owes Yuuji complete transparency. He finds himself blurting out, “Sukuna and I are going on a date this weekend, by the way.”
He holds his breath, a little terrified of how Yuuji’s going to respond to that.
Yuuji’s brows raise in surprise, but it doesn’t seem hostile or resentful. Megumi exhales in relief. “Really?” he asks, eyes shining with genuine curiosity, pink dusting his cheeks. He’s trying to be supportive, he really is, and Megumi appreciates the effort he’s putting in, no matter how awkward. “What are you guys doing?”
“I don’t know yet,” Megumi admits. “I’m the one planning it.” He’s rolled it over the possibilities in his head countless times, but he’s still having trouble. Thinking about going on this date fills him with anxiety. He’s nervous he’ll disappoint Sukuna, nervous that he isn’t ready for what Sukuna wants—nervous that he isn’t ready for what he himself wants.
Yuuji pats Megumi’s shoulder reassuringly. As they turn the corner, the surrounding barren trees starting to thicken, the brick path growing more secluded, he says, “I don’t think ya have anything to worry about. He’s really into you, y’know.”
Megumi freezes, blood rushing to his cheeks. “Did you two—talk about me?”
Yuuji grins apologetically. “Only a little.”
“What did you—”
“I just asked him about how he feels about you.”
“You didn’t.”
“I did.”
“Yuuji.”
“I had to,” Yuuji defends, round eyes shining with innocence and good intentions. “Just to be sure. I know I can trust him, but—it’s you.”
Oh, that’s what it is. Megumi hardens his expression, trying not to let the hurt show through. When did he become someone who needs to be looked after twenty-four seven?
He doesn’t do a very good job of keeping the disappointment inside. Yuuji’s putting both his hands on his shoulders, shaking him gently. “Hey, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s not that I don’t think ya can’t take care of yourself, it’s just that—you’re my friend, so of course I wanna make sure you’re not falling for someone with bad intentions, even if that someone is my brother.”
Falling? Is that what’s happening? Is Megumi falling for Sukuna? Oh god, that sends him into an entirely different sort of spiral, but he forces himself to zoom out.
Yuuji is doing this not because he sees Megumi as a burden, but because he cares—actually cares.
“Thank you,” Megumi utters, a little breathless that Yuuji would do that for him.
“Seriously, it’s nothing,” Yuuji responds, even though it’s everything to Megumi.
They continue to walk down the brick path and fall back into silence, but it’s a comfortable sort of quiet.
The fall, almost-winter breeze is nice on Megumi’s skin, and he’s wearing enough layers for the rest of him to still be warm. For a moment, he thinks he’s content just walking back with Yuuji like this.
Curiosity eats at him soon enough, though.
“So, what’d he say?” he asks, trying not to seem pushy. “About—his intentions?”
Yuuji laughs. “He’ll kill me if I told you this, but it turns out my brother’s the romantic one.”
Brows furrowing together, Megumi stammers, “What does that mean?”
Yuuji hums sweetly, looking a little smug. “It means he wants the whole package with ya. Candlelit dinners and rose petals on the bed. All that lovey-dovey shit.”
Megumi’s throat goes a little tight. He knows that Sukuna likes him, knows that he likes Sukuna back, but, but can he do this?
“I love you, Megumi, you know that, right? You know that I love you—”
Can he really—
“Hey, are ya okay?” Yuuji asks from up ahead. He’s all the way down the street already. Megumi blinks and looks down at his feet, planted to the ground, and down at his knees, threatening to buckle. Shit. He needs to calm down. He hadn’t even realized he stopped walking.
“Yeah, yeah. I’m fine,” Megumi shouts, jogging to catch up with Yuuji.
He just—won’t think about it.
For his date with Sukuna, Megumi eventually decides on a five-star sushi restaurant downtown. When he tells Yuuji and Kugisaki about the place, they freak out once they see the prices on the online menu. Gojou gives Megumi an exorbitant monthly allowance that he normally doesn’t even make a crack in, so money wasn’t exactly a concern when he picked out the place. An expensive place is his best bet; even if the date goes terribly, at least the food and the service are bound to be good. After that, well, Megumi doesn’t want to overthink it, nor does he want to think about it at all. He’s mostly hoping that Sukuna will bring him back to his apartment right after, and all his problems will be solved.
He doesn’t have a back-up plan. He hopes he won’t need one in the first place.
Disregarding Sukuna, Megumi barely survives the week; midterms have kicked into full gear, and catching up with his classes and grinding through paper after paper has taken up all his nights. He hasn’t had time for anything other than anticipation. Anticipation for the weekend, anticipation to see Sukuna again.
The week snails by, and by the time Saturday crawls into place, his stomach is filled with butterflies.
He’s meeting Sukuna right outside his dorm, right at the place Sukuna swept him up in that kiss—he can’t stop thinking about it. Hasn’t stopped thinking about it all week. It makes him dizzy, thinking about how he could have that again.
Megumi wants so, so much—that is nothing new—but for the first time in his life, it feels like it’s okay for him to want what he wants. He wants Sukuna, and he wants everything to do with Sukuna.
He doesn’t think he’s been more scared of anything in his life.
“Miss me?”
Megumi startles; he turns around, coming face to face with his date. Sukuna’s wearing slacks and a dark red button down, the wine-dark color matching the crimson of his eyes. The sleeves are casually rolled up, and the collar is unbuttoned, tattoos peeking out, and Megumi can’t help but wonder how far down they go. He feels his breath sticking to the back of his throat. It’s insane. It shouldn’t be possible for someone to be this attractive.
He can’t help but be honest.
“Yeah,” he says, voice a little raspy. This time, he’s the one letting his eyes wander to Sukuna’s chest, then his forearms, then he lets his eyes settle back to meet Sukuna’s ruby gaze. “I have.”
Sukuna is taken aback, eyes widening noticeably, blushing slightly.
Megumi swallows at how cute Sukuna’s response is. This isn’t fair. Nothing about this is fair.
Sukuna clears his throat, looking away, pink still dusting his cheeks. “So,” he grunts out, recovering, “where are you taking me?”
Megumi smiles. For once, he feels like he’s the one on top today. “It’s a surprise. I’ll guide us there.”
Sukuna hums mysteriously and walks forward, crowding him against the wall. Megumi sucks in a harsh breath through clenched teeth when Sukuna places a firm hand on his waist. “Not even a hint?” he asks, eyes dark and careful and boring into Megumi’s.
Megumi opens his mouth to say something, but then he becomes scarily aware of how close his lips are to Sukuna’s. If he just—leaned in. If he just—leaned in just a centimeter or two, he could—
“Shit,” he groans, pushing on Sukuna’s chest. “I forgot my wallet in my room.”
Sukuna doesn’t seem deterred at all, his hooded eyes still focused on Megumi’s mouth, but he keeps the small amount of distance that Megumi established. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll pay.”
Megumi’s glare is stone-cold. Sukuna paid last time, and Megumi has more than enough money to pay for tonight. “I have to get it,” he insists, slumping against the wall with a frown.
They stay like that for a few seconds, staring each other down. Megumi isn’t going to be the one to back away—he knows that for sure.
Sighing, Sukuna gives in, letting his hand drop from Megumi’s waist. He steps back to give Megumi room to get off the wall. “Fine. I’ll come up with you.”
A smile overtakes Megumi’s lips before he can even think to help it. “It’ll take only a minute,” he promises, guiding Sukuna into the building.
They chat a little on their way to the elevator: Sukuna asks Megumi how his week was, and Megumi tells him about his midterms and papers. He’s never been much of a talker—it’s hard to keep people’s interest, especially when he’s talking about himself. Megumi doesn’t think he’s a particularly interesting person.
But Sukuna, Sukuna listens—he hangs onto every word, and Megumi feels his heart clench tight.
Oh, he’s so gone for this man.
When they reach the elevator, Megumi gives in. He gives in, gripping the fabric of Sukuna’s button-down and pushing him against the wall before the doors even close. And Sukuna lets himself be manhandled, lets himself be kissed, lets Megumi take care of the pace, slow and sweet but with a needy sort of intensity, because that’s what Megumi wants, and Megumi has a feeling that Sukuna would let him do anything, that Sukuna would let him do anything he wants.
His eyes are closed, but he’s never felt more adored.
When he pulls back, Sukuna’s lips are swollen-pink, and his eyes are shining unusually bright. He looks delighted. Beautifully delighted.
“You never fail to give me a surprise, don’t you?”
Megumi feels his chest heave; not because the kiss was especially strenuous, but because it’s Sukuna. Because—
It’s the same for you. You too—you always—
The elevator doors open.
“Whoa,” Megumi hears come from behind him.
He whips around and sees Miwa. Great. She’s totally going to tell Mai about this, and Mai’s going to tell Kugisaki, and Kugisaki’s going to tell Yuuji, which isn’t necessarily a problem. But it’s still embarrassing. Fuck.
He becomes very much aware that he’s still caging Sukuna against the wall.
“Don’t—”
Miwa puts both her hands up. “I didn’t say anything!” she squeaks out, cheeks flushed pink.
There’s a hand on his waist where there wasn’t one before. Heat blows into his whole body, scorching-hot as Sukuna strokes his hip lazily and says, “As much as I love an audience, sweetheart, I don’t think I want to share you with anyone else, okay?”
“Oh my god,” Miwa gasps.
“Don’t,” Megumi repeats, chokes out. He frowns at Sukuna in warning, and Sukuna only smiles dotingly at him. He grabs Sukuna’s wrist and yanks him out of the elevator. Sukuna goes along without much protest, but Megumi swears that he catches Sukuna glaring at Miwa on their way down the hall.
“Why would you say that?” he hisses out once they’re all alone. He’s pouting, but when it comes down to it, he can’t bring himself to be too mad. His chest feels all warm and his head feels all light.
He wonders what this feeling is, wonders what this feeling means.
Sukuna’s answer comes easily. “ ‘Cause I mean it,” he whispers, leaning in close enough that his breath is hot against Megumi’s lips. They’re all alone right now, but even if they were in a room full of people, only Megumi would be able to hear him.
“You’re all mine,” he says, pressing a chaste kiss to Megumi’s lips, “as long as you want to be.”
Megumi tries hard, tries very hard not to let out a noise. His breath is wavering, and he’s dizzy on his feet. He feels drunk, just a little, despite being entirely sober.
“Sukuna,” he whispers back breathlessly, not knowing what to say, not knowing what to think. He only now realizes that his back is to the wall, only now realizes that their positions keep flipping—only now realizes just how much he likes that, just how much he likes—
“You sure you want to go to dinner tonight?” Sukuna hums, his breath stroking Megumi’s cheek. And then, lower, till his voice is just a rasp, “I wouldn’t mind tasting you a little more.”
Megumi lets out an audible whimper, knees wobbling at the thought of Sukuna doing just that.
They still have a bit of time before their reservation.
Sex then dinner? Is that what people do?
Yeah, yeah. Maybe he should just—maybe when they get back to the room they can just—
“We shouldn’t—” he exhales, not really meaning it. He feels out of breath, and his stomach is all hot. Fuck, he’s so turned on already, and he’s already half hard. “Let me grab my wallet first, okay?”
Sukuna chuckles and pulls away. God, he’s beautiful. He really is, pink lashes heavy against his cheeks, ruby-bright eyes, his piercings and tattoos adding another layer of beauty to an already so, so beautiful man.
It’s getting impossible to resist Sukuna, it really is.
He’s done so much for him, and this point, Megumi wants to return the favor.
This—this is all he has.
It’s not too bad of a trade-off, really. Sukuna wants him, clearly, and Megumi wants him too. So, so much.
He doesn’t mind it. Doesn’t mind giving up the only thing he has. It’s what he’s always done, and it’s all he knows how to do.
He just—hopes that Sukuna doesn’t get bored after it, bored with him. He doesn’t know if he could handle being thrown to the side one more time.
Reasonably, he knows that Sukuna won’t. Sukuna stayed, that night. Sukuna always stays for him. Always takes care of him. But there’s this nagging voice in his head—this nagging voice that tells him, This is all you’re good for. This is love, and I love you. This is all you’ll ever be. I’m the only one who will ever love you.
He hates pretending that he doesn’t know whose voice it is.
Megumi comes back to his senses soon enough.
He wants to do this differently than he normally does. He wants to do this right.
Reluctantly, he grabs Sukuna’s wrist again and starts leading him to his room at the end of the hall before they start making out against the wall again—but the problem is, as soon as they step foot into his room, he isn’t sure if he’ll be able to hold fast. It’s Sukuna. How could Megumi possibly resist Sukuna?
His head feels a little bit cloudy, so when he goes to turn the doorknob and finds out it’s locked, he doesn’t think much of it. He and Yuuji never lock their door, which is probably a terrible idea, but both of them got locked out a total of nine times in the first week alone, so it’s for the better, really.
There’s also some noise coming from inside the room, but Sukuna’s hand is on Megumi’s ass, and his dick is growing plumper by the second, and he can’t exactly think about much else, so he fiddles his key out of his front pocket, unlocks the door, and—
“Oh my god,” Megumi chokes out.
His key clatters to the ground, Sukuna’s hand instantly drops from his ass, and the door slams behind the two of them.
“Oh my god,” Sukuna echoes, just as horrified. And in any other situation, this would probably be comical. If Megumi and Sukuna had just walked in on any other two people in the whole world, maybe they could’ve gotten a good laugh out of it.
The obscene, slick, popping sound of Yuuji’s lips leaving Gojou’s dick is more than enough for Megumi to go fully soft.
Well. That solves the mystery of Yuuji’s secret boyfriend. And the mystery of what Gojou was doing here last Saturday afternoon.
“This isn’t how it looks—” Yuuji squeaks out, knelt on the ground and positioned in between Gojou’s thighs, voice slightly hoarse, lips wet and puffy, bright red all over. His eyes dart between Megumi and Sukuna as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, hurrying up to his feet.
Megumi winces when he notices that the front of Yuuji’s sweatpants are a little damp.
Gojou lets out an awkward laugh, his dick still out, pants shucked down all the way to his ankles. “Really, Yuuji-kun?” he hums playfully, a grin on his lips. It’s one of the rare times he doesn’t have his sunglasses on—or even that weird blindfold he wears when he’s at his apartment. Because of that, Megumi is able to notice that his eyes have been on Yuuji this entire time—he hasn’t even glanced at Megumi or Sukuna. “I think it’s exactly how it looks.”
He finds this funny. He finds this funny.
Yuuji lets out another strained noise and goes to tuck Gojou’s dick back into his pants when it becomes clear he isn’t going to do it himself.
Once his dick’s all tucked in, Gojou finally grants Megumi his attention. “Megumi! It’s nice to see you here!” he greets brightly.
Megumi’s jaw clenches.
Sukuna snakes an arm around Megumi’s middle, placing his hand on Megumi’s hip protectively. He hasn’t told Sukuna about his relation to Gojou—he never tells anyone, really—but Gojou’s gained a reputation for being that young, new professor in the physics department who always wears sunglasses during lectures, so Megumi is sure that Sukuna at least knows who he is.
Gojou notices Sukuna’s hand on Megumi’s waist, his azure gaze sharp and sly. “I see you brought a friend,” he prompts. “Aren’t you going to introduce me to him?”
“Aren’t you a professor here?” Sukuna hisses out. He sounds angry, sounds like he doesn’t trust Gojou one bit, and honestly, he probably has the right idea.
The familiarity between him and Gojou must be strange for other people to witness. The only people who could ever really understand their relationship are Maki and Mai.
“Yeah, he is,” Megumi spits out before Gojou can say anything that would make this situation worse. “He’s also my legal guardian.”
Gojou’s grin grows even wider. Megumi grits his teeth even harder.
Sukuna’s arm drops from his waist. “Fuck,” he utters. “Really?”
Megumi doesn’t respond; he continues to glare at Gojou, whose demeanor is so casual you wouldn’t even think anything is wrong.
Twin or legal guardian—Megumi wonders which one is worse.
Yuuji’s eyes go wide, and he turns to face Gojou. “You’re his legal guardian? Megumi, I swear he didn’t tell me—”
“Yuuji,” Sukuna grunts out. “Get dressed. You and me—we’re going on a walk.”
“You can’t tell me what to—”
“Yuuji,” Sukuna hisses sternly, and Megumi has a feeling that Yuuji’s in for a lecture. He doesn’t look angry; he looks—annoyed, kind of. Worried, almost.
(When all is said and done, Sukuna does still care—Megumi will realize, in retrospect, when thinking back on this day sometime later.)
Yuuji presses his lips together. “Fine,” he says, his face hardened as he tries to find his shirt.
Megumi and Gojou stare each other down as Yuuji gets himself together—though Megumi’s stare is angry and Gojou’s stare is more amused than anything.
When he hears the door slam, he knows that the twins are gone, and it’s Megumi’s cue to finally shout:
“What the fuck is wrong with you?”
Gojou chuckles, looping his belt through the holes, then pumping himself a dollop of hand sanitizer from Megumi’s bedside table, so utterly casual about all of it. “If I had a dollar for every time somebody asked me that—”
“Why can’t you take anything seriously?” Megumi demands, shaking so bad it hurts. He stomps forward till he’s in front of Gojou, glowering at him face on since, for the first time in a long while, he’s eye-to-eye with Gojou. “I get that everything is a fucking joke to you, but he’s my friend. I don’t care what you do as long as it doesn’t hurt the people I care ab—”
“I like him, Megumi,” Gojou says flatly, no grin, no smirk, no playful laugh.
What stills the storm brewing in the room, the storm swelling, billowing up from Megumi’s stomach to his chest to his throat—what stills the storm is not those four words themselves, but the warmth, the bruising sincerity in Gojou’s eyes, eyes that usually bear disingenuity and hidden, unreadable intentions.
For the first time in years—for the first time since Gojou found him on his walk back from school, dragged him into an alleyway like some sort of creep, and asked him if he and his sister were happy. Asked him if he was happy as if he knew. As he knew all the sordid, horrible details about what his father did the nights he came back home—home, as if anyone could ever call that house a home. Asked him if he was happy as if he knew everything—because he did. Because he knew Megumi’s father, because he had met Megumi’s father, because he had gotten himself swept up in some mob business—or the mob got swept up in him.
Because he knew. Because he knew about it all.
For the first time since then, Megumi is certain that Gojou is not telling a lie. For the first time since then, Megumi is certain that Gojou means what he is saying.
“Actually?” Megumi breathes out, shoulders relaxing.
Megumi has no idea what Gojou’s version of like actually means, actually entails—but whatever it means, whatever it entails, he can see with own two eyes that Gojou at the very least thinks he’s telling the truth, that Gojou means it when he says he likes him, likes Yuuji.
“Actually.”
This is uncharted territory for Megumi: he doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do, doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say, doesn’t know how he’s supposed to feel about the fact that his legal guardian, his keeper, is genuinely dating his roommate.
“You could get him in trouble.”
“If it comes to that,” Gojou mutters, almost a sigh, “I’ll protect him.”
“You could get fired.”
Universities all around the globe have been trying to recruit Gojou for years, but he started teaching here to keep an eye on Megumi. He started here only this fall, right when Megumi did, and he’s already risking his position and his reputation, although Megumi can’t say he’s too surprised.
“Please,” Gojou scoffs, rolling his eyes. His nonchalant, carefree, playful tone has returned, and Megumi groans internally. “Of all the things I’ve done, you think that this is what’s gonna get me fired?”
Megumi only continues to glare at Gojou.
“I didn’t tell him I knew you,” comes spilling out of Gojou’s mouth after that moment of tense silence. “He was telling the truth.”
“There’s pictures of you and Tsumiki all over my side of the room. I can’t believe he didn’t know.”
Gojou waves his hand dismissively. “Yuuji’s not one to snoop around and notice things like that. And if it makes you feel any better, I didn’t realize he was your roommate until I brought him back here last week.”
Megumi takes a seat at Yuuji’s desk, deciding that he might as well give this a chance. “How’d you even meet him?”
From the cheeky grin plastered all over the older’s lips, Megumi already knows he’s going to regret asking. “Well,” Gojou starts, “Yuuji was walking around the math department building looking for his professor’s office for office hours. And, well, he bumped into me and was so darn cute about apologizing, so I guided him back to my office—”
“You’re not fucking serious,” Megumi spits out; though, he doesn’t know why he expected anything better from Gojou.
“Hey!” Gojou objects, pouting like an obnoxious child, which isn’t too far from the truth, Megumi supposes. “I can teach derivatives way better than some assistant professor!”
“You’re fucked up.”
“Yeah,” he hums lightly, looking at Megumi out of his peripheral, “but you knew that already.”
Faith is the sort of thing you don’t lose all at once; it’s a gradual, slow sort of loss. Time after time, you’re betrayed, heartbroken, bullied into hopelessness—and it’s only then that you really do lose faith.
That hasn’t happened yet for Megumi’s faith in Gojou. He doesn’t know why. Time after time, Gojou Satoru disappoints, and yet—Megumi hasn’t lost faith, and Megumi doesn’t think he ever could.
He doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get any of it.
Megumi stands up, as if to leave, letting out an exasperated, tired sigh.
It’s at this moment that Gojou seems to finally realize the depth of Megumi’s anger. No, that’s not the right way to put it—Gojou Satoru is anything but dense. From the moment Megumi walked in, from the moment he started things with Yuuji, he must’ve known how angry this would make Megumi. Maybe it’s only at this moment that he’s really started to care.
Something changes here—Gojou lets something change here.
“Megumi . . . ” he trails off, and it almost sounds like an apology.
Forgiveness has never come easy to Megumi. It came easily to Tsumiki, though—much, much easier than it ever did to Megumi. Tsumiki was forgiving to a fault, but Megumi was never forgiving at all. They never really were of the same blood.
But they were family. They were the only real family either of them ever had.
Gojou made sure that they knew that. Gojou made sure to separate himself from them.
He gave them a home, but he made sure never to be part of it. He gave them a life, but he made sure that that life didn’t involve him more than it had to.
“You don’t care about anyone but yourself,” Megumi utters, and Gojou doesn’t even flinch. “I know that,” he says, then under his breath he repeats, “I’ve always known that.”
Gojou’s expression, like always, is unreadable.
“So I don’t get it,” Megumi goes on, looking up to the ceiling with a smile that contains nothing but hurt. “I don’t get why you saved me. Why you took me and Tsumiki in. It wasn’t for us, clearly.”
“I never saved you,” is all that he says in response.
“You gave me and Tsumiki a home,” Megumi insists, adamant. “You saved us.”
Gojou puffs out a breath of laughter and shakes his head. “I’m not a savior by any means,” he replies, and if it were anyone but Gojou Satoru saying that, Megumi would say that he sounds ashamed. “Don’t get me confused for someone that I’m not. I couldn’t save anyone even if I tried.”
There’s something there, something unsaid.
When Megumi actually thinks about it, he doesn’t know much about Gojou. No, he doesn’t know anything at all, does he?
“Was there someone . . . ”
“My best friend went missing the year before I found you and Tsumiki,” Gojou reveals in an easy tone, but a revelation like that is anything but easy. It rocks waves in Megumi’s head because—even someone like Gojou had a best friend, once.
He probes deeper. “What happened?”
Gojou’s voice is completely blank, completely apathetic when he answers, “I found out he died last year.”
Megumi swallows. This is the first he’s ever heard of it, the first he’s ever had Gojou open up to him about anything.
“How did he . . . ?”
Gojou clams back up, visibly, noticeably, puts the walls back up over his heart, but Megumi’s already seen enough. “The details are . . . irrelevant, but—I could’ve stopped it. I could’ve—”
This is Gojou’s humanity—this is Gojou’s selflessness—this is what has always been missing.
Megumi holds his breath taut, waiting for Gojou to reveal what he could’ve done, what he could’ve done to help, what he should have done differently.
“I could’ve still had him by my side.”
And the illusion is shattered. The illusion of humanity, of selflessness, of Gojou Satoru.
Megumi has always thought that there was just—something that he never knew about Gojou. Something that would allow everything to finally make sense. Something that would fill all the gaps, put all the pieces of his missing humanity together—this was supposed to be it.
But the whole effort was a mistaken one.
No act by Gojou Satoru is a selfless one. Self-interest is never lost, no matter how hard he or anyone else tries to delude themselves into thinking it is.
You can’t redefine the definition of humanity, of what it means to be human, of what it means to be a good person.
But Megumi wishes you could, because when it comes down to it, there’s some part of Megumi that still hopes Gojou is a good person.
He wants to see the best in everyone. He wants to, desperately, because that’s what Tsumiki did, and Megumi admires her and her memory more than anyone in this goddamn world.
But he can’t. The world, the real world doesn’t work like that. No one lives up to ideals, and no one lives up to expectations. There’s no point in hoping, no point in faith—and yet Megumi can’t let go.
Good people exist, just as bad ones do, but they’re few and far between; and even rarer are people who do things not just for their own good, who do things without looking for anything in return.
He knows it’s near impossible, knows it’s fake, knows it isn’t real for Gojou Satoru to be a good person, but Megumi hopes for it. Longs for it. Desires it.
Because if someone like Gojou Satoru can be considered a good person, then so can Megumi.
Good people are desired, and really, really, all Megumi wants is to be wanted.
Don’t get yourself confused for someone you’re not.
Gojou Satoru, better than anyone, knows who he is.
Gojou Satoru, better than anyone, knows what he is, and what he is not.
There was nothing missing in the first place.
“You’re right,” Gojou says. “I didn’t help you and your sister out of some goodness of my heart. It wasn’t for you and it wasn’t for her, but I don’t expect anything in return. Taking care of you and paying for Tsumiki’s medical bills—I do it because I’m the only one who can.”
Megumi’s throat pinches up. “So it’s a burden for you.”
It’s not a surprise—he’s always known that, but hearing it is different from knowing it, distantly.
“Maybe,” Gojou replies gently, as if it isn’t a problem, “but I don’t see it that way. I do it because I should do it, and I want to do it. You’re right. It’s all for my own sake.”
Not all burdens are heavy. Some are healing; and Megumi, Megumi has long forgotten how to heal.
Gojou isn’t finished. “But with Yuuji—I can feel myself changing,” he says, opening the door until a thin, thin beam of light can shine in. “I can feel myself caring about him in a way that I’ve never—” he stops abruptly, and Megumi feels the door crack open just a little wider. “In a way that I haven’t cared for anyone in a long while.”
“Do you love him?” Megumi asks, and he surprises himself by even asking that question, but it seems like the logical next step.
Love does that—it changes you.
Love, love, love. Megumi doesn’t like thinking about love, but it all comes back to that in some way, doesn’t it?
“I could,” Gojou answers, and this too lacks the disingenuity so characteristic of the man himself. “I could see it happening. If I let myself.”
“Will you?” Megumi asks. “Let it happen?”
The idea of letting something like that, something like love, happen is strange to Megumi. As if there’s any sort of agency to something as terrible as love.
“I’ll try. I’ll try my hardest. I want to be with him, and I want things to work between us. Love is a choice, sometimes. Not all the time. But sometimes,” Gojou claims, and the honesty billowed, twined in his words makes Megumi feel breathless.
“It’s a curse more than anything, though. I don’t recommend it, if you can help it.”
Megumi furrows his brows together. There’s this gap in understanding, this gap in life and love experience between him and Gojou that just can’t quite be bridged—there’s always some sort of chasm between the two of them.
“But then why would you—with Yuuji—”
Gojou smiles, but there’s more pain to it than joy. “You know me. I’ve never been good at self-restraint.”
They’re opposites like that. Megumi can’t quite let himself want what he wants, but Gojou will never deny himself of anything he desires.
But one thing has still been left unanswered, one thing still unasked, one lingering question in the back of Megumi’s mind. He doesn’t know why, but there’s something clawing at him, something that tastes like cigarette smoke, cheap beer, and bile cloying in the back of his throat, something that tells him he can’t let this go without getting an answer.
“Your best friend—the person you tried to—”
“Suguru,” Gojou insists. “His name was Suguru.”
“I love you, Megumi, you know that, right?”
“Did you love Suguru-san?” Megumi asks, voice shaking.
The answer comes immediately, and Megumi knows that there isn’t anything uncertain about this either. Gojou has nothing to gain from telling the truth, but this far in, he also has nothing to lose. Self-interest: that’s all human beings are.
“I did,” Gojou says.
“You know that I love you.”
“Do you still?”
Gojou’s grin is bright, painfully so. “I don’t think I’ll ever stop.”
“I’m the only one who’ll ever love you.”
Megumi’s chest hurts. He can’t do this anymore. He can’t not think about it, if they keep going down this path. “I have to go,” he says, pacing over to the door.
Gojou calls after him weakly, but Megumi knows that Gojou Satoru isn’t the type of person to follow, and he isn’t the type of person to try and fix things either. No matter how much he’s changed, no matter how much he claims he’s changed, you can’t escape what’s written in your code.
So Megumi leaves, and he doesn’t look back.
Gojou actually gave him a choice all those years ago.
Come with him, or go to the Zenins.
Megumi asked if he and Tsumiki would be happier with the Zenins. Gojou wasn’t sure, so they visited the main Zenin estate without notice, just to get a feel for it.
So it’s a bit of a lie when Megumi tells people he met Maki in high school, and Mai only a few weeks ago.
When he visited the Zenin estate, Gojou left him alone to walk around the training grounds and outdoor dojo complexes, and he saw two twin girls around his age, one with glasses, dark green hair, and bangs, looking like she wanted more from life than what she was given, and the other with black hair cropped short, looking like she’d already lost all hope of any sort of life better than this.
Megumi saw the looks in their eyes, tired and lifeless, and knew that he would never be able to call that place a home either.
Then, too, he left and never looked back.
“Senpai,” he says once Maki picks up the call.
He isn’t exactly sure where he is: he’d walked for long enough that his head isn’t quite a storm, but he’s definitely at least a mile away from his dorm, and everything is naturally hazier in the nightscape. He’ll have to get a rideshare back; he doubts he’ll be able to find his way home—his way back from here.
“Is something wrong?” she asks, worried.
His voice must have been quivering when he had greeted her. He can’t know for certain, though. All he can hear is his own heartbeat, loud in his ears and heavy in his chest, so her concern is a surprise to him.
“Are you free for a smoke?” he asks, getting straight to the point.
Because that’s what they do. That’s how they relax, and that’s how they cope with stress. Stress, and other painful emotions.
“Right now?” Maki sounds confused.
“Right now.”
The line is silent for a couple seconds, but then Maki is asking, “Megumi, are you okay?”
Megumi frowns. Do his voice and his actions just scream that he needs help?
“I’m okay,” he replies, and even to himself it sounds like a lie. “I think I just need to be with someone right now. I’m a little—overwhelmed.”
The line goes silent again, and Megumi’s fingernails dig crescents into his palms, waiting for a response.
“We can smoke in my room,” she says eventually. “Come over whenever you’re ready.”
“Thank you.”
“Of course. You’re welcome any time.”
“Yeah,” Megumi sighs, heart squeezing in his chest.
“I mean it.”
Megumi chews on his bottom lip. “I know you do.”
Because that’s who you are. You bear your burdens. You are a Zenin, a true Zenin, so you bear your burdens with dignity and grace and levity not because it’s in your blood, but because that’s what you were taught. You were taught to grin and bear it, even if it hurts, especially if it hurts, because you are a Zenin, and that’s what Zenins do.
They endure.
You bear your burdens—you bear someone like me—with practiced ease because that’s how you were raised, and no matter how hard you try, and I know you have tried, there’s no unlearning your past.
There’s no forgetting it either.
And so you endure.
Megumi’s nose is clogged with the smell of cheap beer, deep groans and raspy breaths heavy in the air, a quiet, choked sob stuck to the back of his throat. His mouth tastes like cigarettes; both their mouths taste like cigarettes, black tar and dirty smoke. He doesn’t want this, he’s never wanted this, but it’s not like it’s his choice—it’s not like it’s ever mattered whether he wanted it or not. Nothing matters.
Nothing matters at all—
“You love this, don’t you? Of course you do. My sweet, sweet boy, taking it all so well.”
Love is a choice, sometimes. But not for him. It was never a choice for him.
“I love you, Megumi, you know that, right? You know that I love you. I’m the only one who’ll ever love you—”
“Megumi?”
Fuck, Megumi’s throat is burning. He coughs until the burning sensation goes away, feeling it deep in his chest.
“Shit, ya good?” Maki asks, patting Megumi’s back.
Megumi nods, inhaling and exhaling controlled breaths until he feels like he can talk again. “Sorry. I was just—thinking.” He coughs one more time and hands Maki the bowl, finger still held over the side hole.
It’s only Megumi and Maki in the room—in the whole world, really—heads poked out of the window as they lean against the heater and try not to get burned.
“Mmh,” Maki hums before she takes a long drag, the center of the bowl burning ember-orange then fading back to an earthy, ashy green. She breathes out through her nose, and Megumi breathes in some of the second-hand smoke. “What were you thinking about?” she asks, passing the bowl and the lighter back to Megumi.
Megumi looks up at the black of the sky, void of stars, the lonely moon tucked behind one of the high-rise buildings on campus. I love you. He brings the pipe to his mouth and flips the lighter upside down, trying to fit the flame to the packed bowl. You’re precious to me. My blessing. The wind is a bit heavy tonight, so the flame keeps dying.
I love you. I love you.
Eventually, though, the flame catches, and Megumi sucks in, watches the white fumes flow up the length of the clear pipe and into his mouth. He savors the high as best he can.
“An old memory,” he says on the exhale, watching the smoke blow into the open air, twisting into the black of the sky.
This is love. This is everything you are to me.
“Nothing big,” he lies.
Love is a burden, Megumi has spent eighteen years learning this truth. The love he knows, the love he’s experienced, is a burden. Something to bear, something to endure—something that weighs you down, something that hurts.
If only Megumi was a Zenin. A real Zenin.