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Itadori Yuuji, the boy full of sunshine, toothy grins and infectious laughter. The boy you first befriended in your first year, the boy you’ve had a hopeless crush on in your second year, and the boy you’ve come to love now in your third year--was sentenced to execution come morning.
The date had already been decided on the same day he consumed the last of Sukuna’s fingers.
You should have seen it coming. You knew it was coming. Death was inevitable but it came for Yuuji too soon, waiting for him on the other end of his sentence.
He had a week and a half left hence you spent the first half following through on things he wanted to do with you, Megumi, Nobara, and Gojo. Gojo, in spite of being a careless adult, had taken into lavishing your group with anything Yuuji had asked. It had been simple things at first, one last mission together, the remaining time without missions, and blowing off money on every mall and cinema they could find in Tokyo.
On the last mission, you were a little too violent, still ramming your first into a curse that had already died. The days you weren’t on missions, you were angsty, your knees bouncing in aggravation. Then you couldn’t appreciate all the glittery things Nobara bought with Gojo’s black card--one of them maybe. It was getting harder for you to focus on the movies when your eyes welled up with tears while Yuuji sat next to you, fully immersed into the movie, as if he wasn’t going to be gone on the next one. There were some instances when your group had to stop when you started dry heaving and shaking uncontrollably that they brought you back to the dorms thinking you got sick.
You don’t miss the sorry and worried look Yuuji gives you after Nobara tucks you into a cocoon, scolding and reminders heavy on her tongue.
Against your better judgment, you’ve holed yourself up in your dorm room since then during the remainder of his last week alive. You’ve ignored the missed calls to attend Yuuji’s remaining bucket list, incessant knocking on your door, the hushed begs of Nobara (your dear stubborn friend never begged), and Megumi’s exasperated lecture rising into a scold. When they had managed to pick through your locks, they were greeted with a stuffy room, empty boxes of the meals they had left at the door or still full and simply abandoned with you nowhere in sight.
They knew your petty trick of using your cursed technique to morph inside a cursed object to hide.
Itadori Yuuji had not died yet but you sure as hell were grieving like it had already happened.
Your two friends can only sigh, knowing that even with all of them combined, you would still be the most stubborn of them all.
“Hey, kid,” it's Gojo-sensei this time that comes to your locked door, “Don’t make it any harder on yourself...or Yuuji.”
That made you want to smash the door into his face because you already knew. You knew that Yuuji would have wanted to spend his last moments happy and fulfilled. It was selfish of you to isolate yourself while the love of your life was celebrating his final breathing moments doing all the things he’s always wanted, surrounded by the people he loves. You even heard about them going on a sky-diving trip over Okinawa the other day, sponsored by none-other than the white-haired shaman at your door.
“Talk to him,” the usual childish banter in his voice had lowered into solemnity, “That's the least you can do--that’s all he really needs.”
You know.
But you can’t smash the door in the face of the very man who had mentored you, the closest to a father as you can get in his own roundabout way.
Gojo-sensei had done his best to bargain time and prevent this from happening--he was the very reason why Yuuji was given time anyways.
You loathed the higher ups as much as he did.
A few hours into the afternoon, you hear a soft rasp at your door followed by a gentle baritone of your name.
“I know it’s difficult,” your upperclassman, Yuuta mutters through the door, “But when we love someone--”
-they never really go away. You cynically finish the sentence in your head.
“What I’m saying is,” you can hear Yuuta rocking back and forth in his heels, “Don’t let Itadori’s memory become a curse for you.”
The words sting.
He was right.
That's what brought him here in the first place, cursing that one girl he vowed to marry.
These people loved Yuuji. He had seeped into their hearts, filling the cavities that would have otherwise been permeated with trepidation and bringing them the smaller moments that mattered more than the cursed mission they lived up to.
But they didn’t love Yuuji like you did. They don’t understand.
And you knew how incredibly insensitive that thought was but you do not bother to correct nor dissect it. All that was left of you now was numbing horror of your loneliness, darkness and the swallowing of the bitterness over the life he could have had.
Thank you, Yuuji.
Your eyes had already emptied themselves of tears.
You’ll forever have my heart.
They flutter shut, brooding over the hollow ache in your chest.
I love you.
And just like everything that made you alive, that made you human because of him--your confession shrivels and dies in your throat.
The door clicks open.
You don’t even bother to jump or hide. You were too exhausted, too numb to even care for what other lecture they had for you, telling you that you were wasting your time, that you should be there, that you should-
-whatever they were going to say...you deserved it.
The voice that calls your name sparks a flame in the vacancy of your chest.
The door clicks close, followed by a lock.
“Shouldn’t you be out in Tokyo, blowing off Gojo-sensei’s black card on that dumb claw machine you’re so obsessed with?”
Megumi and Nobara were right, you were being an asshole to Yuuji right now, the very boy who deserved all the happiness in the world that was only made available for a week.
“Ah,” Yuuji scratches the back of his head, “I thought that my last night would be more fun with you.”
You scoff, eyes glued to the ceiling, struggling to muffle the rattling in your chest, threatening to spill over in a sequence of wails. Yuuji approaches your bed, the mattress dipping beneath his weight. Your chest constricts from trying to keep your breath steady.
Did he notice? You hoped not. It's already hard enough to keep your voice level.
“No fun here as you can see,” your lips quirk bitterly, “My room’s a mess and I can’t even remember if I showered today.”
“Hm,” the boy leans over you, faux sniffing like a dog. He then places an inquisitive finger on his chin, one brow raised as if thoroughly inspecting you, “Eh, smells like you did but you look like you haven’t for days.”
His poor attempt at making you smile works, as you huff out what sounded like an effort to laugh yet your eyes remain desolate. The remaining sunlight outside your window was dim in comparison to the bright grin he holds over you.
On any other day, you would smile back but all you could offer was the shift of your gaze onto his honey orbs. They were warm as ever, a tad lighter underneath the sunset’s glow yet melancholic at the edges. You can’t bear to see them close forever, you’d keep those jewels for yourself.
Yuuji’s voice was low when he finally brought up the elephant in the room. He had no more time to waste.
“Why didn’t you show up?”
You try to deflect, with no apparent reason, “You just said I look like I haven’t showered for days.”
“That’s not what I meant,” he pokes your cheek playfully before leaning back on his palms. He patiently looks over you, anticipating your answer.
Why didn’t you show up?
I feel helpless knowing I couldn’t do anything.
I don’t want to have another memory of you before you go.
I don’t want to pretend everything is alright.
I don’t want you to go.
I don’t want to.
I don’t.
I don’t want us to curse each other.
Like earlier, they are all caught up in your throat that you say nothing.
“Hey,” Yuuji whispers, leaning on his elbow as his other hand comes up to gingerly touch your cheeks. He frowns, you think it's a frown because his bottom lip quivers, “Why are you crying?”
Stupid question really, Yuuji. You wouldn’t be celebrating the news of losing someone to Death.
You thought you had no more but true enough, you feel warm rivulets cascade to your temple.
“This isn’t the last thing I want to see from you,” he chuckles breathlessly even when his own eyes become glassy.
"That's why I stayed away, idiot," your eyes narrow in spite of yourself. Your eyes were burning from the tears but you didn't want to close your eyes or move your hands to get rid of them, "You...should be with the people who make you happy right now."
He doesn’t stop rubbing away the tears with his thumb, calloused and rough from years of training and fighting--the same one that saved you in missions and shoved you when you cracked a crass joke.
“But I want to be with you now,” he whispers honestly, “You make me happy too.”
Yuuji was so close now that you can see the purple bruises beneath his eyes that tell you he hadn’t been sleeping. He’s never been this close to you before, you’ve had skinship sure but they were mostly cuddling while shrieking through a horror movie, running in the rain with clasped hands, and the occasional licking the thumb to rub off the dirt on the other’s face--nothing you deemed as romantic, at least in both your eyes.
Little did you both know of Megumi’s migraine over the obliviousness of the very obvious budding romance. Perhaps, on a normal day, you would have both recognized how his lingering touch and tender gaze was beyond what you were used to.
Yet time and destiny were fickle things, they did not favor you, not in this moment, not in this lifetime. So you don’t spare it for confessions of what's palpable--this was fine.
Right?
“Yuuji,” you croak, fingers digging into the soft fabric of your comforter. And with every fiber of your being that heaves in agony, you whimper, “Don’t go.”
Yuuji visibly tenses and stifles a choke. You both didn’t have time to waste. You don’t spare it for embarrassment, fluster, nor fears of crossing boundaries. His thumb halts in its path as he gulps, offering you a crooked smile.
“I already passed my recipes to Fushiguro,” his fingers move to cup your cheek, your tears already spilling over, “I made him promise to serve you a plate for each time he uses them.”
You distantly wonder if those unopened bento boxes from the shikigami user were practice.
“Kugisaki has two tickets to Tokyo Disneyland, y’know the one Gojo-sensei promised us to once upon a time.”
You both chuckle and your palm rests on the hand against your cheek, leaning on to it with your eyes closed.
“Gojo-sensei organized all the movies I enjoyed, he’ll bring one to you every Friday.”
It was mean really, to keep up the Friday Movie Nights in his absence.
“Okkotsu and Choso promised to take you to the YukiMatsuri festival.”
It won’t be the same without the person you made plans with.
“I’m not really gone. ”
And that’s where he’s wrong, because those promises will only rub salt on the wound and emphasize that indeed, he would be gone.
The dull ache in your heart throbs into stinging anger, “I don’t want it.”
Yuuji nearly pulls away from the caustic glare you send him under wet lashes. You exhale, eyes sliding close and fingers curling into his. You bask in the comforting press against your face, the warmth in his chest and the scent of cedar and campfire that always lingered in his skin.
“I don’t want to continue our plans if you’re not there with me.”
You’re not even sure whether your sentence ever made it past the distressed sobs that had racked your chest. Feeling the burn in your eyelids pulse as you cry steady streams of tears but you take a deep breath, mumbling in a hushed confession,
“I love you, Yuuji.”
You dare peer through the haze of your tears, lips quivering along with the tremors in your hand.
Droplets hit your forehead and stain your pillow, fat tears that fell from glassy amber orbs.
Maybe.
Maybe it wasn’t fair to tell him this without a chance of ever seeing what will become of what you had.
Was it alright to curse him with these words now?
But you loved this boy full of sunshine, he deserved to know just how much you loved him, how deeply you regretted not telling him sooner, and how precious he forever will be to you. Megumi’s cooking, Nobara taking you to Disneyland, Gojo-sensei picking out movies, Yuuta and Choso bringing you to the festival will never atone for the person you meant to do them with.
Itadori Yuuji will never be replaced. You could never love anyone else but him.
“I love you,” you whimper once more, succumbing into your defeat.
You know that Yuuji would be too nice--too kind to ever reject you. But damn, you wished he would. You did not want to bear another weight of knowing and wondering what could have been.
Yet time and destiny were fickle things, they did not favor you, not in this moment, not in this lifetime.
“I love you too,” Yuuji mutters, head hanging low as his other hand curls into a fist beside you.
You hold your breath, a cacophony of relief, bitterness, happiness, and sadness ring throughout your body. He presses his face against the crook of your neck, the nape dampening with his tears as he speaks, “I’ve loved you for a long time.”
“I knew I loved you ever since our first mission together in Yasohachi.”
You listen with bated breath, releasing his hand to slide your arms over his shoulders and pull him closer. He lets you, arms coming to rest at your waist.
“I was scared I wouldn’t be able to see you when you were left with Fushiguro. I was scared I would be too late coming back to you.”
Your breath hitches when you feel his lips brush along the column of your neck.
“Y’know how relieved and jealous I felt when I found you both lying next to each other? Even more so when I realized you were on first name basis,”
“Yuuji,” you stammer with a bitter smile, “You know we went way back as kids right?”
Yuuji hums then kisses just beneath your jaw, “Not only him--when someone looked at you the wrong way...makes m’blood boil.”
You start to feel goosebumps at the lowered octave of his voice, breath hot against you, “I was too dumb to realize I loved you. I love you. It’s always been you.”
If you weren’t crying already, now you are.
He didn’t have time to waste. He doesn’t spare it for hesitance, regrets, nor fears of crossing boundaries.
Yuuji slots his lips against yours, wet and salty from tears. You gasp, fingers clutching onto his uniform jacket. The kiss was messy and desperate, intimation of inexperience but you do not mind. All that mattered now was that the boy you’ve become best friends with in your first year, crushed on in your second, and loved in your third, loved you--overwhelmingly so.
He pulls away suddenly, expression morphing into one of horror--a comical contrast to how unadulterated and deliberate he was moments before. It was as if burnt by the realization of his impulsive act. His eyes scan worriedly across your face for any sign of discomfort or hesitance--
There were none.
You smile and tug him back by the collar, kissing him once more. His eyes are wide in disbelief but he returns it enthusiastically, bodies getting warmer by the moment. He swings his leg over you, pinning you down with his chest and hips. You groan when his tongue brushes your lips, you allow him entry, his tongue eagerly entangling with yours. There was no pattern nor rhyme. Just desperation and pent up passion, earned throughout the years.
“I’ve thought about-” he mumbles against your lips, trailing hot kisses across your cheeks, jaw, then neck, “-confessing in the festival.”
You’d look so beautiful in the kimono you bought with Nobara the other day.
“I thought about having it during the fireworks, just so it was loud enough that I could take it back if you reject me.”
Laughter bubbles between the both of you and your mouth opens to deny it, but all that comes out is a yelp when he nips just beneath your jaw.
“It wouldn’t stop me from trying though.”
I know you wouldn’t throw our friendship away. I’ll be fine just being there for you until you finally look at me and realize it will always be you for me.
He gently sucks, tongue laving across the bruise. You were so soft and pliant against him, it’s taking a lot of his will power to take his time, worshipping every inch of your skin.
“If you did give me a chance, I thought of having a picnic as our first date,” he continues a trail of purple marks across your neck and collarbone, groaning when your hips buck against his, “We could cook together over here and set up a blanket on a hill behind the school. Had the perfect view of Tokyo.”
I’ll teach you the recipe of the meatballs you really enjoyed and all your favorites.
I would never let go of your hand as we walk there.
I’ll make sure to take photos of how ethereal you’d look underneath the sunset.
You’re chewing on your lip, pulling on his shirt, absolutely floored by how much Yuuji had thought about you--some future with you.
“When we graduate,” his hand is teasingly caressing the skin of your exposed stomach, shirt hiked up from the excitement, “I would support you if you wanted us to become professional sorcerers or if you wanted to study at a regular college.”
I’ll always make time for you, I will always come back to you, and I will always be there for you.
“And when we graduate college,” his ministrations halt, and he takes your hand, pinning it in a clasp above your head. He looks at you through his half-lidded gaze. You think you would cry again at the loving smile he offers you when he says, “I’m going to propose to you at the Yuki Matsuri festival that year.”
I’ll take you back to where it all began, this time I’ll ask before the fireworks begin just so I could hear your answer.
The words hang in the air, breath balmy against your lips. You inhale them, soaking the promise behind his words into your lungs, engraving them into your heart.
It was too good to be true that you hesitantly whispered, “You...you really thought about it that much?”
Like earlier, Yuuji’s smile falters, a spell of doubt and apprehension casting over his once bright-eyed confessions.
“Was...was that too much?”
His confusion and self-doubt were so sincere that it breaks your heart a little more to know that even Itadori Yuuji, who made peace with his fate, had dreamt of something more beyond the curse he carried.
You shake your head, hands coming up to rest against his cheek, thumb tenderly rubbing across the dimpled scars beneath his eyes, “No...it’s perfect.”
The gloom over his features fade away at the appearance of his sunny smile. He presses a kiss into your palm, “Good, ‘cause I’m not done yet.”
“I wanted us to get married at a beach in Osaka,” he continues, hand caressing your side, a rough contrast of calluses to the supple skin, “Gramps took me there when I was younger...had beautiful temples by the beach too.”
A sunrise wedding, you would hate me for getting up too early but you’d change your mind when you see the view.
You sigh at the warmth, his touches leaving goosebumps in their wake.
“W-we could have our honeymoon there too,” you quietly add, cheeks tickled by the soft scruff of his hair.
He nods as smiles down at you then bends down once more to capture your lips in his, more eager, more deliberate.
“If you want, we can have our first kid there.”
The thought of Yuuji wanting a family with you makes your stomach knot that you break away to litter hungry kisses across his neck, tasting the salt and sweat in his skin. You feel his Adam’s apple bob with effort as he continues.
“I’ve already decided the name if he’s a b-boy,” he groans when you sink your teeth into his pulse, “Wasuke.”
After my gramps, meaning calm, harmony, peace, concord, serenity--everything you give me.
Yuuji wants to look at you again, wants to make sure he doesn't seem too obsessive and invested in a future he could never have with you. The last thing he wanted to see was apprehension in your eyes and taste the bitterness in his tongue.
Yet his doubts dissipate when you murmur into his ear.
“If it’s a girl, I get to decide.”
One boy and one girl. Really, it didn’t matter because you’d both love them with all your hearts.
Yuuji lets your promise linger in his mind for a while, eyes closing as he pictures you heavy and full with a child you both could never have. He gulps, a choked sob caught in his throat, “Deal.”
“We could live back here in Tokyo, or wherever you want,” his palm lifts to cup the nape of your neck.
In a humble apartment with a small kitchen where your hips and shoulders would touch as you cook. Playful shoves over his corny jokes and without distance to close when he bends down to kiss your temple.
“Oh baby, we’d make such a lovely home you and I,” he leans his forehead against yours with a crooked smile,watching how your eyes gloss over in melancholy, “The best part is coming home to you.”
Your breathing stutters over the sincerity of his gaze, the cool tones of moonlight replacing the warmth of the sunset.
“And I get to do this,” Yuuji kisses you, once--on your lips, twice--on your cheeks then over and over, emphasizing each word with a punctured smack, “Anytime. I. want.”
While you cook, while you clean, while we watch movies, while you get ready--
“And anywhere I want,” lips linger in your jaw before he sighs, nuzzling into the crook of your neck.
When we walk out the door, during reunions, while we’re in the grocery, in front of our kids.
You're giggling, wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders, fingers grazing over his undercut while your legs hook over his. You hum, “Didn’t think you’d be one for PDA.”
He shakes his head, hair tickling your nose as you breathe in the scent of his shampoo. He squeezes you tightly and mumbles into your neck, “They can’t say shit cause you’re mine.”
“Yeah,” your laugh rumbles against his cheek as you pet through his hair soothingly,
“I’m yours.”
Time and destiny were fickle things, they did not favor you, not in this moment, not in this lifetime.
But you were sure, you were Itadori Yuuji’s-- for now and forever.
Yuuji’s eyes flutter close, listening to the steady thrum of your heart, evidence that this had actually happened--that the beats were for him.
Was he dead already? Did the execution already take place? Cause this was the closest to heaven he’d get.
“Y-yuuji,” you mumble hesitantly. He hums in response, tilting his head up to get the perfect view of your double chin, “You’re heavy.”
He blinks once, then twice before grinning and lifting himself up, “Sorry, sorry.”
Your lungs were released off the pressure, a reminder that this boy was pure muscle and mass. Yuuji does not let go of your waist, turning over to have you rest on top of him instead, shifting your head to rest against his collarbone. You smile when his other hand entwined with yours, thumb rubbing over yours tenderly.
Regret was acerbic as it flowed through your being.
Had you really been wise to have held back what you truly felt? Were those “dates” you shared with Yuuji his attempts of showing you how he truly felt? Should you have holed yourself up in this damn room in despair when you could have had this early on?
“Do you regret it?”
Yuuji doesn’t seem startled in the least, perhaps having been used to these types of questions during the countdown to his execution.
“Sometimes...I wished I hadn’t been stupid enough to eat this bastard’s finger,” he taps at the dimple beneath his eye, “But then Fushiguro would have been killed--and even people more after that.”
His hand comes down to stroke through your hair, “I was the only one who could take him. I didn’t want to forget about it all and live knowing other people died because of Sukuna. I don’t want to regret the way I lived. I mean--there are some things I wish I could have done differently over the last three years.”
His fingers squeeze yours in emphasis, “But I do know one thing--I don’t regret meeting you.”
He presses a gentle kiss on your forehead, “And if I had the chance to... I would-”
“-Do it all again and still meet me?” you finish for him and crookedly smile at the way he grins at you. You lean up to meet his lips halfway, kissing the scar beside his mouth before pausing to mumble, “I would too.”
You both did not have time to waste. You don’t spare it for hesitance, what-ifs, and things left undone.
So you sit up, straddling him as he chases after your lips, groaning when you settle over his hips. Your fingers curl into the collar of his uniform as he pulls you by the waist, holding the back of your head to drag you deeper into the kiss. He flicks his tongue against yours, swallowing your whine. Your hand slides past his collar and onto his hair, tugging when he rubs against you.
Even in the delicious sensations he brings you, you can still taste the salt of your tears and the bitter regrets.
But maybe, maybe this time and destiny had been gracious enough to leave you the remaining hours of his precious life.
“Yuuji,” you whisper against his onslaught of kisses, “I...I wanna be closer to you.”
He raises his brows, still distractedly kissing the sides of your mouth and rubbing his nose against yours.
“But you already are, baby.”
“No, I mean-”
He doesn’t stop smothering you in kisses and it distracts you from the point you were making and the embarrassment that comes along with it.
“What do you mean?”
How could you answer when you feel the roll of his hips into yours? When he kisses you so lovingly and so hungrily?
“I mean I-- hng-- Yuuji-”
“Speak up, baby,” he nips at your throat and you yelp, nails digging into his scalp a little more, tufts of pink hair sprouting between your fingers.
“How can I when you-”
You gasp when he flips you beneath him, arms pinned to your sides. You were already hot with embarrassment, but when he eyes you so openly, caged and helpless in his hold, your mouth clamps shut. Yuuji, enamoured, only smiles at you, eyes glazing over as he lowers his forehead on yours,
“You’re irresistible, you know that?”
And he swallows your answer once more in a searing kiss. Your eyes flutter shut, giving into the warmth he was only able to offer that night.
That night you made sure you memorized everything about Itadori Yuuji.
His voice.
His smell.
His taste.
His touch.
His everything.
“Wow, you look like a pug that stuck its head out a running car window,” you comment, cuddled up to Yuuji’s side as he scrolls over the photos and videos he took that week. They definitely went skydiving and you were still amazed they managed to take photos of themselves while plummeting 10,000 feet in the air.
Yuuji was somewhat of a puppy anyway. Still you couldn’t help but chuckle at how far his cheeks had billowed out, flashing the set of pearly white teeth, eyes squinting behind his goggles.
You’re wary of the way your room slowly ignites once more from the slow creeping of the sunrise through your window. You ignore it in favor of committing his mussed up hair, and relaxed smile to memory.
You carry on the morning for a while, treasuring all the pictures he took over the past week. You notice Gojo being the photos less as the days pass. Perhaps he was just like you--unable to watch and pretend everything was alright. You decide against asking about it.
Somehow, you don’t even pay attention to his phone, eyes nearly shut. You simply savor the rumble of his bare chest against your cheek as he spoke. You brand his words into memory, noting the husky octave it takes when he had just woken up and the light tone when he speaks about his favorite parts.
“Hey,” he nudges you, and when you open your eyes, you are met with the selfie-mode of his phone, “I never got to have one with you this week.”
You blink at your reflection, hair that needs brushing, still bleary with fatigue, eyes swollen from tears. You want to complain and tell him this was not the best way to remember yourself. Till you see his bright eyes, growing lighter with the sunlight reflecting off the boards of your room, his handsome face glowing and flushed. So you shift yourself higher, pressing your cheek against his as you smile, his cheek pushing against yours as he offers the widest grin.
It felt wrong.
It felt so wrong to be smiling like this when you glance over the pictures you took, catching sight of the time on his screen.
You had but an hour left with Yuuji.
He must have realized this the same time you did, tossing his phone somewhere to hold you with both his arms. He kisses the top of your head, lingering there for a moment while his hand rubs soothingly up and down your arm. You snuggle deeper into his embrace, going over the notions you’ve picked up during these last few days--stilling the ache in your chest, chewing your lip, and squeezing your eyes shut to prevent the tears.
“Yuuji.”
“Hm?”
“Let’s run away.”
Yuuji freezes up before clasping your shoulders, sitting up. The sheets pool at his waist, giving you a tempting view of his sculpted muscles. You swallow the drool that gathers in your cheek.
“What?”
“Let’s run away.”
This time you’re staring at him dead on, resolve firm and sure. His mouth opens then closes, like a fish out of water, “You’d run away with me?”
“In a heartbeat,” you say adamantly, taking his hand in yours.
“But we’d be hunted down-”
“Megumi and Nobara would support. We could have a never-ending trip around the world,” you look up at him through your lashes.
Yuuji blinks before responding with a soft smile, brushing your hair behind your ear, “We could send them postcards.”
“Yes!” you’re grinning now, crawling into his lap to rest your arms on his shoulders, “They could come with us too.”
He chuckles, honey eyes tender with awe, “Yeah, and we could send Gojo-sensei sweets through our fake address.”
You nod enthusiastically, “The man could warp, he’d be popping out in the oddest places.”
You meet his lips with a smiling kiss, nudging your nose sweetly against his, “It would be so fun.”
“Yeah.”
You feel his breath stutter and his fingers flex on your waist that your momentary paradise is shattered with the blatant truth.
“But I can’t...I can’t run away.”
You swallow hard, resting against his shoulder when he tugs you closer, “I know.”
“I can‘t risk Sukuna hurting you or anyone else I love again,” he buries his nose into your hair with a shaky inhale, “I can't ask you to give up Jujutsu sorcery and everyone else just for me.”
Your earlier efforts to keep yourself from breaking start to tip, “I know.”
“I can hear him--the things he wants to do to you just because he knows I love you. It's taking everything I got right now to make sure you don't hear it,” he admits, pulling you deeper into his possessive embrace, “I love you so much.”
Your eyes are stinging, fingers curling into a fist against his chest, “I know.”
“Live those dreams, see those sights--tell me all about it when we meet again.”
Yuuji lifts his pinky finger up at you, a gesture you were so used to when you were making stupid bets--this time it’s different. He’s asking you to go on without him, to make these memories and maybe, just maybe, in the next life you could tell him about it.
You feel hot tears stream down your cheeks as you hook your pinky in his.
“I will.”
The cold does nothing but aggravate the sorrow that swallows you whole.
You couldn’t stay in your room or in Jujutsu Tech. Not when you know the very place you spent your final moments with Yuuji was the same place he’d meet his end. Not when you think you could hear Nobara’s frustrated scream or Megumi yelling for her to stop. Not when you see those bastards who managed jujutsu sorcery show up in customary robes.
It made you sick.
So you hike a little off ways Jujutsu Tech, towards the mountains at the back dense with greenery.
At least that’s where you thought you were.
Your phone had been once again blown up by missed calls and texts but you had been painstakingly scrolling through Yuuji’s phone and the memories he captured with it. He had left it with you, knowing he’d have no need for it but you would. And while it was killing you from the inside out, you look through the photos, trying to hold on to any bit and memory there was of him. You had been walking the whole morning, as if you were leaving your grief behind only for it to catch up to you like a competitive marathon.
“I already passed my recipes to Fushiguro. I made him promise to serve you a plate for each time he uses them.”
Yuuji was an amazing cook, that's what you learned whenever you’d catch him in the common kitchen during your midnight cravings. Now, you realize how coincidental it was that you found him there more often that it becomes a nightly ritual for him to spare you a plate. If you weren’t in the kitchen, he’d knock on your room to offer you something delicious he’d thrown together.
“Kugisaki has two tickets to Tokyo Disneyland, y’know the one Gojo-sensei promised us to once upon a time.”
You remember first coming to Tokyo with a promise of a tour all over the metropolis so you both take it upon yourselves to go on your own. Now, you realize how unlikely it was not to disclose the plan with Nobara--like he wanted to go there only with you.
“Gojo-sensei organized all the movies I enjoyed, he’ll bring one to you every Friday.”
After some time of getting into missions regularly, you find yourself searching for some form of distraction and comfort after the gruesome sights you’ve seen. You decide to numb yourself with a different reality offered by the screen. When you learn that Yuuji had a knack for movies and that Gojo had literally passed on his years’ worth of movie collection--you approached the boy about it. You don’t forget the way his eyes light up as he comes to your room with an armful of movie selections. Now do you realize how strange it was that he would come to you each week after a grueling mission to cheer you up with what he began with you as a “Friday Movie Night.”
“Okkotsu and Choso promised to take you to the Yuki Matsuri festival.”
Now, now you know why he planned it in the first place.
“I’ve thought about confessing at the festival. I thought about having it during the fireworks, just so it was loud enough that I could take it back if you reject me.”
He was an idiot thinking you would reject him, you can’t help the pathetic laugh at the thought of his backup plan. Still, your heart aches because your mind is still plagued with all the hopes and plans he intended to share with you--even when he knew he wouldn’t make it with you.
Your steps come to a halt, legs wobbling and burning in exhaustion.
You wonder...did it hurt Yuuji to dream about these, knowing he wouldn’t be able to do them? Did he like to live in the illusion of a longer life? Did he like to imagine it with you?
Because right now, his unmet dreams have cursed you.
Your legs give into your weight as you fall into an ungraceful slump.
You can’t let it become a curse to you. You loved him too much. He loved you too much. Those dreams were precious and yours to keep even if the boy you meant to share them with would be gone.
You drag your gaze upwards, the sky has taken on an overcast purple hue. It was nearly winter but the lack of light told you it had already been late into the afternoon.
By now...
Itadori Yuuji is gone.
Your throat had already been dry from your incessant sobbing throughout the week but it lets out one pathetic wail.
Itadori Yuuji, the boy full of sunshine, toothy grins and infectious laughter. The boy you first befriended in your first year, the boy you’ve had a hopeless crush on in your second year, and the boy you’ve come to love now in your third year--was gone.
You’d been sitting on the forest floor for an hour now, the ground cold and damp that it seeped through the material of your pants. The stillness strangled you. You were pretty sure the silence in your phone inside your pocket tells you that it had died from its remaining battery being exhausted with the amount of calls and texts you didn’t bother checking.
They were probably looking for you or telling you about the news of Yuuji’s execution.
They were probably checking on you, making sure you had not suffocated in your sorrows in isolation.
They probably needed you to be there for them as well.
Some part of you tells you that you were being too insensitive towards your friends. They were just as distraught as you were. You knew that, you truly did. But you also knew, there was no right way to grieve.
Brrr….brrr...brrr....
Yuuji’s phone begins vibrating in your palm. You’re startled that someone would call a dead boy’s phone but the blurry filter your tears give you make it difficult to read the fluorescent name. It takes a little too long for you to pick up that it falls through a missed call.
Then it lights up again.
Brrr...brrr...brrr
Perhaps it was an old classmate or a distant family member. They probably didn’t know what had become of Yuuji. Your resolve to keep to yourself in silence begins to break.The phone registers the missed call again.
It lights up the third time.
Brrr...brrr...brrr
You blink away your tears and rub the edge of your sleeve against your eyes. Once your vision clears, you peer at the phone to see…
Gojo-sensei ʕ·ᴥ·ʔ
He probably figured out you had it.
Your thumb hovers over the answer button, still hesitant to hear whatever he had to say considering he was the one delegated to bring Yuuji to the execution grounds.
The higher ups were horrible--rotten from the inside out to have a man who loved and cherished his students send his own to his death.
But you figured, if there was anyone you had to talk to right now--it would be the child stuck in a thirty year-old man’s body, Gojo. Your thumb clicks ‘accept.’
“Sensei?” you croak.
“Hey kid,” you hear some shuffling and hushes from his end, “mind pinging me your location?”
You did mind.
You don't need anyone but Yuuji right now.
Yet, your teacher’s calm request somehow feels grounding and after years of being his student, you noticed Gojo’s shift in a more sensitive tone when he knew you didn’t need any of his intolerant behavior. That was the same tone you heard through the speakers and you can’t help the burst of tears that's punched out of your throat.
He lets you sob for a while, staying on the line even as you can hear the wind beat through his line.
You imagine he was perhaps in the air, in search of you.
Eventually, your shaky fingers managed to ping your location even through the haze of your tears.
“Got it,” he tells you, even as the wind swallows his voice when he plummets, “Hang tight.”
The line hangs up and the phone falls uselessly with your hand as you sat there in misery while you waited.
It doesn’t take long for you to feel a gust of air a few meters before you and you see his signature black chukka boots. You don’t bother looking up, you drag your gaze back to the ground where the soil had already accumulated damp patches from your tears.
You wait for it. You wait for the news. You wait for him to disclose what happened or what were the last words of Itadori Yuuji. You wait for him to explain the changes of routine. You wait for him to talk about how he might give your group extra missions or none at all to get your mind off the incident. You wait for his lecture, for his honest disappointment over how childish and irrational you had been behaving especially since he had trained you all so well to handle your emotions in tragedy. You wait for a demand to go back to the dorms. You wait for the adult amongst you to have already accepted it long before you have and urge you to move on with him.
What you wait for does not arrive.
“Maybe you should stop crying-”
Okay, maybe you gave your teacher way too much credit for being sensitive. A new flood of emotion fills you, hot anger surging through your veins.
“-and look up.”
Your head tilts upward with your teeth snarled, fists clenched in your lap with a caustic reply at the tip of your tongue.
But then you see two pairs of shoes instead of one.
A familiar pair of red Air Jordans.
Your glare softens into shock, ribcage rattling alive when your heart starts pumping. Gojo lowers none other than Yuuji, in his signature and sweats. Your teacher releases his hold on the boy’s waist, having hauled him here like a bag of groceries. He shifts to find his balance, before you see those honey eyes look back at you with a sheepish grin.
Itadori Yuuji, the boy full of sunshine, toothy grins and infectious laughter.
You think you’re dreaming, as you dazedly shuffle to your feet. Your mouth opens and closes.
You must have gone crazy from grief. You must be in the first stage of denial, still disbelieving your own eyes even as Yuuji steps closer to you. Your wide eyes inspect him thoroughly, still unable to reach out.
When you hear your name whispered between those trembling lips, the scar at the side of his mouth dipping with every syllable, the scent of him wafting to you, the deep umber in his eyes underneath the lowlight--
Your fingers hover over his face, scared that if you do touch him, your hand will go through the air.
Yuuji sees this, and he takes your hand in his to press against his cheek. You flinch, scared you’ll feel an icy corpse but instead, you feel the callouses in his palm and the warmth that blankets your cold fingers.
“I’m here.”
You were then sure--and the revelation overcomes you in waves that keep you from breathing.
Last night you made sure you memorized everything about Itadori Yuuji.
His voice.
His smell.
His taste.
His touch.
His everything.
And everything was right in front of you now.
You were still in denial even as your chest started to heave in great effort to process. You glance behind him over to your smiling teacher who lifts his blindfold to rub at his eyes and look over the two of you.
“Yes, kid, I can see him too,” Gojo chuckles, celestial eyes in open display to prove his point.
“I’ll tell you all about it next time, ” he promises, a wide grin never leaving his face.
Briefly, you think you caught sight of the lilac moons beneath his snow lashes--Gojo was constantly on Reversed Cursed Techniques that seeing evidence of burn out on his flawless face was enough to tell you the reason why the boy you loved was alive and in front of you now.
At a loss for words, you sprint forward to seize your teacher by the waist in a sudden embrace. Gojo is visibly startled, hands frozen in the air, but he lets you touch him anyway.
“Thank you, Sensei,” you stammer, fresh tears bubbling from you, and you welcome them for a whole different reason.
The white haired shaman relaxes, deciding that maybe for once in his life--the only right he’s done is with his students. His grin melts into a content smile when he sees Yuuji gaze back at him, alive, breathing, smiling gratefully-- allowed to live.
Gojo pats your head and clasps your shoulders, leaning down to look between you and Yuuji,
“Don’t think I’m going easy on any of you starting tomorrow.”
The beam stretched tight and wide across your face does not allow you to pout up at him or glare. The dread over the promise of extra missions and training does not ruin the buoyancy in your chest that you swear you can feel your hair brush up against the branches high above you.
Gojo pats Yuuji’s shoulder, “I’ll leave you two to it, you better be back as two--not three.”
You don’t see it but you know he gives you both a sleazy wink at the suggestion that you both blush and groan in exasperation.
Once your teacher had warped, you were still standing where he had left, back turned towards Yuuji. You think you’ll break into an incoherent mess when you see him. Or somehow some part of you was still fearful of turning around to find that it was just your mind playing tricks on you.
“You’re not gonna look at me?”
You can hear the playful pout in his voice.
“Idiot, why didn’t you come to me sooner? Do you know how dehydrated I am from crying?”
“To be fair, you had my phone and you weren’t answering any of our calls.”
“S-still!”
He laughs, the melody like a bubbling brook that it eases you.
You feel the heat from his chest as he comes up behind you to wrap his arms around you. He kisses your temple and you feel him smile against you.
He’s real, he’s alive, it doesn’t matter how, as long as he's here.
You slowly relax into his hold, your hands gingerly resting on his forearms over your waist. You lean into his shoulder with your eyes fluttering shut as you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.
“So,” he mutters, smiling at the way you shift your face away from him even, “You good?”
You shake your head vigorously, eyes squeezed shut, turning your face the opposite direction. You whisper, “Let’s stay like this for a while.”
“You’re still not looking at me,” he teases, kissing your jaw and nuzzling his nose along your cheek, till all you see in your peripheral vision is a mess of pink. “C’mon you did more than just look last night.”
The realization hits you like a trainwreck that you choke on air.
You spent the night in a flurry of passion and blurted confessions, thinking you had nothing more to do with them. You both had already spoken about marriage, children (hell even Yuuji gave you a name), homes, and a domestic life--all in one night, under the impression that it would never happen. But now you were given the chance to, it was overwhelming and downright embarrassing.
You feel his chest rumble in laughter against your back at your stricken expression.
“I’m afraid I’ll cry like a baby if I look at you again,” you stutter, cheeks burning.
Yuuji presses one last kiss against them before bringing his fingers up to clasp your jaw, “Fine, but kiss me first at least.”
His hold gently urges you to turn your head towards him. You sigh, mustering enough self control not to bawl. You finally open your eyes to face him.
Yuuji--the boy full of sunshine, toothy grins, and infectious laughter tenderly gazes at you with those amber eyes you were always drawn to. His lashes flutter against his cheeks as he leans in closer, smiling lips reaching for yours. You melt into the kiss, the loud beating in your chest earlier easing into a steady pulse.
Time and destiny were but fickle things--they favor no one so you both grasp the chance you have in this lifetime.
Yuuji was a man of his word, he will stand on his plans and his promises with you even if he spoiled them too early.
He would still confess under the firework-lit sky in the Yuki Matsuri festival. He would take you on that picnic date. He would support you through your college years. He would propose to you at the next Yuki Matsuri festival. He would marry you on a beach in Osaka. He would name your son and you’ll name your daughter--maybe more. He wouldn’t mind where you’d want to live because he would be coming home to you.
Itadori Yuuji, the boy full of sunshine, toothy grins and infectious laughter. The boy you first befriended in your first year, the boy you’ve had a hopeless crush on in your second year, and the boy you’ve come to love now in your third year--you were sure you love him now, and you would love him forever.
Because you knew, Itadori Yuuji would do the same.