Everything Changes (But You Stay The Same)

by megumiblues

Summary:

Megumi stimulated change in Yuji. This change that Megumi brought upon his life, however, despite Yuji’s best efforts to see everything negative it brought upon his life from that point forward, is one that Yuji can’t bring himself to regret. Not when Megumi brought so much good, too, in the form of the plethora of emotions he makes Yuji feel just by being in his orbit.

Truly, Yuji could never regret meeting Megumi.

Notes:

Hello, I just recently read the jjk manga and became obsessed with itafushi ;-; I love them and this is my ode to their relationship over the entirety of canon. There might be some discrepancies between here and canon, though I did try my best to stay true to the source material!! Also, the characters have been aged up, so we're pretending that they're actually high school third years instead of first years <3 This fic was such a joy to write and I hope you guys enjoy it too!!

Here's a fic playlist for reading, too <3

Yuji’s life has always been a static force where nothing much happens in it, until he met Megumi. Then everything started to accelerate at breakneck speed at a rate that Yuji himself couldn’t keep up with. Everything started to change that year he turned eighteen, but Yuji knew if he had to boil it all down to one point, to one person, Megumi would be at the middle of it all.

Because Yuji has always had…difficulty making friends to say the least. Not because he’s inherently antisocial, it’s quite the opposite in fact, but it was always easier to keep things superficial. To never let the interpersonal relationships that he made with people ever reach a level that’s deeper than the surface.

Sure, Yuji was sociable and nice enough to spend time with people at school, but he didn’t have time to make it anything worth writing home about. It was more comfortable that way, to keep things superficial, especially when his parents walked out of the picture and his grandfather was in the middle of well, dying. Maybe it was a little lonely but spending time with his grandfather every day at the hospital after school, made it a little less so. His grandfather worried, but Yuji was fine. Truly.

But then came Megumi and everything started changing.

Megumi came into Yuji’s life, just as one chapter closed with the death of the only person he held near to his heart, opening another chapter entirely. Megumi threw Yuji into a life of sorcery he could have never fathomed – scary unlike the fantasy movies, with curses that look like nightmare fuel and psychotic sorcerers – and demonic fingers. He got possessed by some thousand-year-old demon sorcerer dude, got a death sentence that was only temporarily suspended, and became a jujutsu sorcerer himself. He made friends, he lost friends, he died, then he came back.

Through all of that, however, Megumi was always there. He was there with his disgruntled curses, his polished fighting techniques, and how effortlessly cool he always was. Yuji, despite his tendencies to always self-isolate, to keep things superficial and meaningless, found himself drawn towards Megumi’s flame. Always trailing after him even if it would burn them both, and Megumi despite all his complaints, never pushed him away.

If anything, Megumi only seemed to bring him in closer. Seemed to care about Yuji for reasons he couldn’t explain, maybe a misplaced kind of responsibility towards him that Yuji knows Megumi doesn’t owe him, but never clarifies. Because, maybe, even if it’s unwarranted – Yuji does enjoy the attention. The attention and the affection that Megumi offers him so readily.

Megumi also made Yuji feel things, things he wasn’t quite ready to put a label to, even if he had a suspicion as to what it might be.

Megumi stimulated change in Yuji. This change that Megumi brought upon his life, however, despite Yuji’s best efforts to see everything negative it brought upon his life from that point forward, is one that Yuji can’t bring himself to regret. Not when Megumi brought so much good, too, in the form of companionship and the plethora of emotions he makes Yuji feel just by being in his orbit.

Truly, Yuji could never regret meeting Megumi.

 

⍣

 

To this day, Yuji doesn’t know what possessed him to eat that finger.

He remembers being in a demon's chokehold, the adrenaline pumping so loudly through his veins, that the idea of death felt distant. Insignificant. But then he looked to Megumi, saw how broken he looked, how he was essentially on the verge of death himself. He didn’t know Megumi then, didn’t know anything besides the minimal information that he provided and that he was seriously too pretty, so his death shouldn’t have mattered to Yuji. Especially when he was on the verge of death himself.

He had done what he could, saved his friends in the Occult club, despite being a normal guy. He didn’t have the same cursed energy, wasn’t some sorcerer like Megumi, yet he managed to help. To save two people who might have died otherwise. Didn’t that count for anything? Wouldn’t that count as keeping his promise to his grandfather?

It probably would have, but Yuji found that it still didn’t sit well with him. He didn’t know Megumi in any capacity, but a world without him felt wrong. Megumi for his part, risked his own life for Yuji, too.

So, he did the only thing he could think to do as a normal human getting choked to death in a curse’s vice grip. He swallowed a finger, even if it meant he might die, even if he knew it would change him and alter the course of his life forever.

But he managed to save Megumi, so he thinks it was worth it.

 

⍣

 

Within Yuji’s first month at Jujutsu High School as a third-year, he found himself a regular visitor in Megumi’s dorm.

Megumi refused to visit Yuji at his dorm, which Yuji tried not to be self-conscious about. Telling himself that it’s because his room is messy and cluttered, and not because Megumi feels encumbered by his company. Even if Megumi is annoyed by his company, Yuji still can’t help but wander to his dorm every night. Always so bored at night, reading manga and watching porn not quite enough to satiate his restless moods.

So, he will knock on Megumi’s door, sheepish smiles and snacks in tow. Every time, Megumi will tell him as he’s leaving that he won’t let him in the next time he knocks because he wants to be alone. But every time, Megumi opens the door to him regardless, rolling his eyes with an exasperated huff as he lets him in. Tonight, Yuji notices that the tips of his ears are red too, peaking out between the strands of dark hair.

Yuji is beginning to suspect that Megumi might be what they call a tsundere. So cute.

“Thanks for letting me come over again, Fushiguro.” Yuji grins as he settles down on the floor by the small kotatsu, setting the cans of soda and chips atop it. “Appreciate it.”

Megumi glares at him, but settles next to him, grabbing the Sprite and opening it without any preamble. He takes a large sip, sharp eyes studying Yuji.

“You shouldn’t get used to it,” Megumi says. “This is the last time I’m letting you in.”

Too late for that, Yuji thinks to himself, because he’s already used to it. Which might be bad for him, but he will let Future Yuji deal with that problem. For now, he wants to have fun in Megumi’s company.

“Uh huh.” Yuji nods seriously because this is the seventh or eighth time Megumi has said that but has yet to act on his promises until now. “I’ll bring popcorn tomorrow night, so we can watch a movie!”

“Did you hear anything I just said?” Megumi curses.

“I did, I just know you’re softer than you let on.” Yuji’s lips curl into a smile. “You will let me in.”

There go the tips of Megumi’s ears again, turning red once more, even as his glare turns venomous. His red ears temper the ferocity of his glare, making him look more like an angry kitten.

“I won’t,” Megumi seethes.

“You will,” Yuji says in a singsong voice. “Just admit you like my company, too, Fushiguro. Denial doesn’t look good on you.”

“You force yourself into my company,” Megumi snarls. “I don’t like anything about your company.”

“Then why do you open the door to me each night?”

Megumi’s glare weakens around the edges, eyes falling as he averts his gaze from Yuji’s. The red on his ears seems to spread to Megumi’s pale cheeks, staining them in the same hue. It’s captivating to watch, makes him wonder just how far that blush could spread. How dark his reds can get.

“Because I know you wouldn’t leave if I didn’t,” Megumi says shortly.

“I’m not that clingy, y’know.” Yuji smiles, perching his chin on his palm. “Or would you prefer it if I didn’t leave?”

Megumi ignores Yuji in lieu of opening a bag of chips, grabbing a handful, and tossing it into his mouth. He aggressively chews on the chips, looking like a bit of a chipmunk, paying no mind to the crumbs that get on his lips and his cheeks. Yuji pays them mind, though, his fingers twitching by his sides. A sigh, Megumi rubs his hand carelessly against his lips, albeit failing to catch all the crumbs.

It’s distracting.

“You’re presumptuous, aren’t you?” Megumi finally says. “I let you in because you need me.”

Oh.

“Why would you say that?” Yuji implores softly.

“Because you’re lonely, aren’t you?” Megumi prompts, eyes flickering to Yuji. “You just lost your only family member, everything has changed. I’m all you have.”

Yuji laughs sheepishly at that, caught temporarily off guard by his words. Because Megumi is right. He did lose everything he ever knew, thrust into a world he hardly knows anything about. He’s got Gojo as a mentor and Nobara as a friend, but it’s not the same. Not really. He cares about them, but for some reason, he only finds comfort in Megumi. Even if he’s prickly, even if he claims not to care, even if he says that every night is the last time when it never is.

Maybe Yuji is lonely, has been lonely for a long time before he ever met Megumi. But being around Megumi helps stave off that loneliness for a little while. That’s probably why he always finds himself at his doorstep each night, even if he knows he’s a nuisance to Megumi.

The fact that Megumi noticed all that, entertains him because for it despite all his claims, makes Yuji’s chest tighten and constrict.

“I can’t say you’re wrong,” Yuji sighs. He considers Megumi for a moment, plastering a smile across his face. “You don’t have to humor me for it, though. I don’t want to be a burden.”

“You’re not a burden,” Megumi says firmly, glaring at Yuji harshly to further get his point across. Yuji tries to take his glower seriously, but all he can pay attention to is the loud boom booming of his heart and those damned crumbs on his lips. “I don’t do anything out of pity, Itadori. I do whatever I want, so don’t worry about that.”

Yeah, Megumi can say whatever he wants, but truth is, that he will always care.

“Okay.” Yuji nods, lips tilting upwards. He cocks his head to the side, scooting closer to Megumi. “Say, Fushiguro, are we friends?”

Megumi looks taken aback by the question, staring at Yuji quizzically.

“I’ve never really had friends before,” Megumi says quietly. “I didn’t need them.”

“Well, neither did I. Not really anyway,” Yuji says, fingers thrumming against the table. He thinks of the friends he had in the Occult club in his old school, how they got along just fine, but weren’t really people he ever let in on any level deeper than light banter. “But I’ve always kind of considered you as one. Is that okay?”

But Megumi is different. Yuji hasn’t really gotten the chance to know him yet, not really, but there is a certain kind of intimacy to risking their lives for each other when they had just met, that is difficult to brush under a carpet.

“Do what you want.” Megumi shrugs. The blush on his cheeks has only grown a shade deeper, however. “It doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Yuji tries not to fist bump at that victory, so giddy, that he could hug Megumi right now. But he won’t, because he knows Megumi would curse him into next century if he did.

“Then I will. You’re my first real friend, Fushiguro.” Yuji grins brightly. “I can be your first friend, too, if you want.”

Megumi freezes at that, eyes widening a bit before he nods once.

“If you insist,” Megumi says dismissively, turning away from Yuji. “You always do whatever you want anyway.”

Truly, Megumi is the biggest tsundere, Yuji thinks to himself. He’s so cute for it too.

“If we’re friends, that means I can stop by every night then, right?” Yuji prompts.

“I guess so.”

“And I can text you, too?” Yuji asks, leaning in closer. “Even at 3 am?”

“If you text me at 3 am, I will end your existence.”

Yuji takes that as a yes to texting in general though, so he takes that as a small victory.

“And maybe we can hang out sometime?” Yuji asks softly. “Like, not at school? Maybe go to the arcade or the movies? Y’know, like how friends do.”

Megumi gives him a side eye glare, the one that makes him look like he’s regretting all the life decisions that led him here, but he nods once.

“Only if I don’t have anything better to do,” Megumi replies. “I don’t see why not.”

Yuji doesn’t know if it’s normal for his heart to be doing jumping jacks in his chest at the mere prospect of getting to spend so much time around Megumi, but he takes it as it is. Doesn’t want to hurt his head thinking too much about it.

Friendship is exciting, the prospect of it is what has him so giddy, and that’s it.

“Y’know, Fushiguro, I think this is the start of a beautiful friendship,” Yuji says. He throws his arm around Megumi, bringing in him close, even as he immediately elbows him in the stomach. “I promise you won’t regret it!”

In retrospect, Yuji should have known better than to make promises he knows he wouldn’t be able to keep.

 

⍣

 

Yuji has always liked girls exclusively. He liked girls who were tall, busty, big boobs and a personality who’s sassy and funny, but also nice. Nice to him specifically. The Jennifer Lawrence type essentially, his dream girl. He’s about as straight as they come, truly.

But then comes Megumi.

Megumi is nothing like the dream girl he depicted above, but somehow, that doesn’t stop Yuji from staring. Megumi doesn’t have big boobs for Yuji to drool over or a delectable ass for Yuji to grope, but he’s still objectively gorgeous. With his long and feminine lashes that cast shadows on his cheeks whenever he lets them shut closed. His dark locks that are styled to look sharp enough to cut, but when Yuji brushed one of his stray strands behind his ear one time, they were contrarily incredibly soft to the touch much to Yuji’s own surprise. Pale and porcelain features that rarely break out into anything but passive irritation – but when Yuji manages to elicit a reaction aside from that in the form of a tilt of his lips or a ruddy flush staining his cheeks red – he looks nothing short from beautiful.

Prior to Megumi, Yuji never found any boy beautiful, but there’s no denying that Megumi is exactly that to him. He isn’t Yuji’s type by any means, but his eyes always wander towards him, while his thoughts drift elsewhere. Pensive thoughts and daydreams wondering how Megumi looks under his stifling uniform that leaves entirely too much to his imagination, wonders if he’s toned and lean or delicate and gossamer. If the blush on the tips of his ears can spread deeper, past the high collar of his uniforms down to his collarbones, perhaps deeper. He wonders if his waist is small, because it looks small even under his uniform, what it would like with Yuji’s hands wrapped around it.

Other times, his eyes will snag on his glossy lips that he certainly moisturizes, and all his thoughts will lag in one place.

‘What would it be like to kiss Fushiguro?’

Yuji always wants to hit himself whenever his thoughts stray there, blames Megumi for never wiping the chips crumbs by his lips all those weeks ago when he came to his dorm, because this is when it all started. That said, it’s happened so many times at this point, that he just indulges in the fantasy now.

He wonders if Megumi’s lips are as soft as they look, if he’d be able to taste the flavor of the Chapstick he applies on his tongue. How would they kiss? Would Megumi blush and let Yuji take the lead or would he try to pry the control out of Yuji’s hands? Would Megumi let Yuji hold him, wrap his hands around the back of his burning hot neck and pull him closer?

Yuji might not be the brightest, but he knows that giving so much thought to the taste of his guy friend’s lips isn’t at all platonic, let alone heterosexual of him. The fact that he’s bisexual, a label that rolls off his tongue a lot easier than he thought it would, comes to him easily without much panic. It feels right, like something he eventually would have come into with time, but he’s thankful it was Megumi who brought it out of him. If there was ever a boy who’d give Yuji enough gay panic to bring out such a shocking realization about his identity, he thinks he’s happy that it would be Megumi.

Though, it could be something else too, something deeper than physical attraction. A bit despicable of him, because Yuji promised Megumi friendship, yet here he is, wanting for something more like the greedy person he is. Yuji continues to ignore that voice in his head, however, because he still isn’t ready to deal with that particular epiphany just yet.

Yuji will much sooner accept his bisexuality any day of the week over the possibility of being in love with Megumi.

 

⍣

 

It’s funny how the concept of death can influence people. One moment you’re ready to go and the next you’re not. Though, once faced with death, feeling the cold touch of his fingers clasping tightly around your windpipe, nobody will feel quite ready to go then.

Yuji almost died the night he first met Megumi and he thought he was ready then. That it wouldn’t be so bad if he died then and there, because he didn’t much to lament over, nothing of value to regret. But he didn’t die – rather, he harbored a curse so macabre within the recesses of his chest as an exchange for more chance at life and saving Megumi – that sometimes he wishes he actually died that day instead. As such, he was sentenced to death, a death sentence that will always loom over his head, reminding him that he will never have a normal life let alone a normal ending. Even Gojo warned him, told him that he would either die a gruesome death out on the field like so many other jujutsu sorcerers do, or he would ultimately die once he’d consumed all of Sukuna’s fingers.

Yuji knew this, he made his peace with it, or at least he thought he had.

When faced with death once more at the prison facility, a choice he made for himself to make sure Megumi and Nobara got out safely, he thought he’d still be ready. But he isn’t ready at all, feels nothing but crushing, numbing fear consume every vein in his body until all he can think of is that fear and regret. Because this time is different, this time he does regret, feels as if he isn’t ready to let go yet. Isn’t ready to have it all come to an end.

But then he dies.

Yuji dies because Sukuna ripped his heart out and threw it by Megumi’s feet, while Yuji could only watch like some helpless bystander, as he taunted Megumi and threw him around like a ragdoll. A feeling so horrid that Yuji could vomit, feels each taunt as if it’s falling from his own lips and each punch with his own fists, feeling as if it’s him who’s hurting Megumi so badly. He could only watch at first because he was still scared, but he's not scared enough to watch Megumi burn through his life force for Sukuna’s entertainment. He comes back even though he knows it means his own death because Megumi said he trusted in him, has more faith in him than Yuji ever deserved to have in the first place. He comes back, because even if death is scary, watching Megumi get killed is even worse.

Everything hurts from the literal hole in his chest where his heart should be, to the metaphorical one that hurts even worse with loss and regret over his own life and everything that could have been. He watches as Megumi stares at him in horror and despair, fingers twitching as if he wants to reach out to help him, but they both know that Yuji is beyond saving at this point. It’s a look that Yuji wishes he could wipe off his face, because he looks so much prettier when he’s smiling, though Yuji understands there isn’t much to smile about right now. Selfishly, he hopes that Megumi will miss him when he’s gone, even if they’ve only known each other for barely a month.

More than anything, Yuji regrets not telling Megumi how he feels about him, but deathbed confessions don’t seem appropriate either. He simply wishes that he hadn’t spent so much time in denial before, but Yuji supposes that these kinds of things never come into clarity until it’s too late. Instead, he suffices with plastering a bloody smile across his face to help alleviate Megumi’s gloomy expression.

“Live a long life.”

Yuji’s last words to Megumi before he dies, almost a confession if Megumi cares to decipher it before collapsing to the ground by his feet, and the whole world goes black. Yuji might regret the way he lived life, not having enough time to save all the people he wanted to save or say all the things he wanted to say. But still, he wants Megumi to live a long life, the same way he felt the first night he met him. He hopes he lives a long life, a happy one that leaves him relaxed rather than prickly. And that maybe, from time to time, he will think of Yuji every now and again.

And so, Yuji dies while leaving Megumi behind, full of regret and all the words left unsaid.

 

⍣

 

When Yuji comes back to life, his first coherent thought is about Megumi.

Rather than any emotion of relief or euphoria that he’s back from the dead, Yuji only feels a deep sense of discontentment and concern. He thinks of Megumi, wondering if he’s still alive, if he’s okay, if he’s happy. Because fuck, Yuji never wanted to traumatize him with his death, that last look on his face before death claimed him is burned into the back of Yuji’s retinas, sees it every time he closes his eyes. He wants to see Megumi, wants to embrace him, tell him that he’s okay. That they will be okay.

But he can’t do that. Not when he wakes up naked in a morgue, because he’s supposed to be dead, but somehow, he’s not. Gojo laughs at his ability to cheat death, and Yuji should be ecstatic, but he wants – no, needs – to see Megumi.

“When can I see my friends?” is one of the first questions Yuji asks Gojo. “Fushiguro, what happened to him?”

“They’re fine,” Gojo says shortly. Shortly enough for Yuji to know there’s more to it than that. “But you can’t see them yet. Not until you’re stronger. Strong enough to stand on your own without endangering them or needing to sacrifice yourself for their sake. That doesn’t really make anyone happy, trust me.”

The instinctual urge to argue is immediately put out because even Yuji knows that he doesn’t deserve to see Megumi or Nobara yet. Especially not Megumi. His own weakness is ultimately what put them both in danger, what made him so liable to letting Sukuna take over and letting him wreak havoc within that prison facility. In that sense, Yuji might as well be the one who beat up Megumi within an inch of his life, not Sukuna.

Staring at his hands, all healed up now despite the pangs of phantom pain where he once lost his hand and fingers, he can still feel the way Megumi’s body felt under them as he threw him into asphalt and tried to kill him. It was Sukuna who did it, but it felt like he had a hand in it too, with it being his own body that he couldn’t control. It felt like Yuji himself was the one hurting Megumi so badly, the one who was toying with him, as he tried to kill him.

Yuji only ever wanted to protect other people, to protect Megumi, but he only ended up hurting him and getting himself killed instead.

“And you’ll make me stronger, right?” Yuji asks, looking up at Gojo. “You are the best, after all.”

Gojo throws his head back and laughs at that, giving him a lazy smile.

“I can make you one of the strongest if you listen to everything I say,” Gojo promises with a finger to his lips. “Once you do that, you can see them again. Show them how much you’ve grown.”

Yuji knows he can do it and he can’t wait to show them, to show the world and even Sukuna, that he’s a force to be reckoned with.

 

⍣

 

Training is both underwhelming and overwhelming all at once. What with Gojo’s primary training approach being to watch movies while channeling his cursed energy, getting punched in the face when he fails to do so. It doesn’t feel like he’s training hard enough, discordant with the kind of suffering he thought he’d need to go through to get stronger. Yuji had imagined something akin to the training montages from hell that he’d seen Naruto, Ichigo, Killua and Gon had to go through in their respective anime series, only to get something rather lax in nature.

Though, Yuji supposes that fits with Gojo’s generally laid-back personality, very little capable of actually fazing him in any degree. He wonders if that kind of permanent calm comes with the knowledge of being the strongest. Will he ever reach that pedigree of strength himself? He doubts it.

Still, Yuji wishes he had a training regimen that made him feel like he’s striving towards active change. Watching movies, while good at shutting his brain off away from the self-loathing thoughts that threaten to suffocate him, still manage to make him feel restless. On edge. He’s not being productive enough and it’s driving him crazy.

When will he be able to see his friends again? When will he see Megumi again?

“How are you holding up, kiddo?” Gojo asks him, pulling Yuji out of his thoughts as he settles next to him on the couch. “You’re improving a lot faster than I thought you would.”

Yuji looks away from Sex and the City that’s currently playing on the screen – not that he’d been paying much attention anyway because it was pretty boring to him – and looks at Gojo instead. Fortunately, the cursed doll – which he lovingly decided to call Poopy Face Junior – stays asleep. Yuji feels a thrum of apprehension under his skin, not quite sure how to approach Gojo like this.

Ever since he saw him fighting that volcano head demon, and he’s felt a bit…intimidated by him to say the least. Truly, Gojo is the strongest jujutsu sorcerer there is, and it puts everything into a different light once he’s seen him at work.

Yeah, Yuji doesn’t think he will ever be on Gojo’s level, no matter how hard he trains. There’s just too big a chasm between them.

“Fine, I guess,” Yuji says, because he is fine. Really. “I think I’ve got a good handle on my cursed energy now.”

“Hmm, but you still don’t look happy,” Gojo comments, studying Yuji with his ever-present smile. It kind of creeps out Yuji just how much Gojo can see through him despite the blindfold that he’s always wearing. “Do you wanna fight cursed spirits so bad? Wanna see your friends again?”

“You said I have to wait until the student exchange tournament thing, which is like, in a month,” Yuji grumbles. He sighs, throwing his head back as he pets Poopy Face Junior pensively. “I feel suffocated here. I feel like I’m not doing enough, while everyone is busting their asses out outside and dying, while I’m watching movies. And yes, I do miss my friends.”

“Hmm. I can send you on the field with one of my buddies, there’s a cursed spirit case that needs looking into. That should help with all your restlessness and angst.” Gojo laughs, patting Yuji’s shoulder amicably. “I think you’re strong enough to handle it and I trust Nanamin to take care of you if things backfire.”

“Oh, that’s awesome!” Yuji grins, already giddy at the aspect of going out into the field again. “I can’t wait. Thank you, Gojo-sensei! I promise that I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Gojo replies smoothly. His smile falls a bit, taking on a more serious tone. “As for missing your friends, well, you’ll just have to be patient. Go out and meet them at the exchange event, show them how much you’ve grown.”

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” Yuji says, though he can’t muster any enthusiasm behind his words. He only feels apprehension when he thinks about seeing Megumi and Nobara again, has no idea how they will react when they see him. Has no idea if they’ve already moved on and forgotten him during the time that they thought he was dead. He fiddles with his thumbs, eyes darting towards Gojo surreptitiously. “Do they – do they ever talk about me at all?”

Yuji immediately wants to smack himself for asking that question at all, feeling like a child for asking it. He’s so mortified that he wants to open his own grave and lie in it. Gojo’s long stare, silent without any sly smiles or rambunctious laughter, only serves to exacerbate that regret.

It doesn’t matter. If they don’t miss him, that really doesn’t matter at all.

“Just forget about it, it’s fine –”

“Do you want the truth, or would you prefer a sugar-coated lie for you instead?” Gojo asks, overriding him.

“The truth delivered nicely?” Yuji asks sheepishly.

“They never mention you,” Gojo drawls, without any sugar-coating at all. He props his head on the palm of his hand, staring at Yuji without any softness to lighten the blow of his words. “It’s like you never existed to them.”

“Oh,” Yuji says shortly, a pang of hurt resounding in his chest despite himself.

“That’s not what you wanted to hear, right?” Gojo hums. “You wanted to hear that they cry over you every night and that they always talk about you. That they will never forget you and the grief over losing you is one they will never forget, am I correct?”

Yuji flinches back in shame and mortification.

“That’s – that’s not true.” Yuji averts his gaze, looking back at his hands. The phantom pain and flashes of blood marring his vision once more. “I – I want them to be happy even after I’m gone.”

“Nobody is that selfless,” Gojo replies. “Everyone wants to be remembered, to be cherished, to never be forgotten. After all, that’s the only way you can continue to live on even after your life is over, immortalized in the memories of those around you, in the hearts of the people you’ve touched.” He sighs, a heavy one that feels like it carries a part of his heart with it. “But real life doesn’t quite work that way. As jujutsu sorcerers, we lose loved ones and friends every day. If we broke down and cried over each person we lost, we would lose the will to keep going as the ones left behind. We compartmentalize, we push the pain away, and we move forward while we let time heal our wounds.”

Yuji bites his lip hard enough that he starts to feel a coppery tang flood his taste buds. His heart aches, his hands squeeze Poopy Face Junior, but it gives him little solace in his moments of need. He looks to Gojo, seeking desperately for that compassion, but he only finds cold indifference.

“Then how come I can’t forget or let go?” Yuji asks softly.

“Because you’re kind, Yuji, stupidly so,” Gojo says. “Some might even say your kindness is your Achilles heel.”

Gojo heaves another heavy sigh at that, brushing a hand through his white locks. In that cold indifference, he finds a hint of compassion and empathy underneath it. Knows that Gojo is speaking from experience, from understanding.

“I don’t think I’m particularly kind,” Yuji replies. “I’m pretty selfish like you said.”

“Everyone is selfish but being selfish and being kind aren’t two mutually exclusive things. You can be both at the same time.” Gojo smiles at him lightly. “But for the record? I do think they miss you. They’ve been training nonstop, especially Megumi, I think it’s a coping mechanism for them.”

“Is that so?” Yuji scratches his cheek sheepishly. “Hopefully when we meet up again, it’ll be a nice surprise for them.”

Yuji hates the way his lips tilt upwards at the words, warmth exploding in his chest at the aspect of it. Megumi grieving over him isn’t anything he should be happy over, but still, it makes him feel a certain kind of happiness over feeling cared about. He hopes that once they meet each other again, Yuji can take away that sadness, and shower Megumi with everything good. Hopes that when he sees him again, Megumi will smile at him, hug him, and wipe away all the terrible memories that lie between them.

Just like that, Yuji’s mood has lifted once more.

 

⍣

 

When Yuji meets Megumi and Nobara again, he’s full of anticipation and excitement for how they will react to finding out he’s still alive. Something that was only fueled by Gojo’s encouragement – his teacher has always been a menace in that regard, the worst kind of enabler – only to be left slightly disappointed instead.

Yuji had been imagining how they would react, thinking they would jump in his arms and hug him, tears streaming down their faces when they see him again. They would say how much they missed him, that they don’t want to lose him again. Yuji would then straighten his back and grin, patting their heads as he wiped their tears, promising them that he’d be staying with them for a while longer. Wishful thinking, of course, but it was only that line of thought that managed to keep Yuji afloat after losing Junpei. An acute sense of loss consuming his chest where his heart should be, always blaming himself, always wishing it had been him instead. In all honesty, thinking of his friends – of Megumi – is the only thing that kept his sanity intact.

Nobara and Megumi’s reactions, however, can only be stated as underwhelming at best. They both look almost annoyed, barely even reacting, as if they don’t care that Yuji came back from the dead.

‘They never mention you, it’s like you never existed to them.’

Gojo’s words echo in Yuji’s head as they start to walk away from him, his heart throbbing dully. He supposes it has been too long, that they’ve already came to terms with their grief and moved on. They hadn’t even known Yuji for long enough to grieve, so Yuji really had been too presumptuous. He clenches his fists by his side, trying his best to bury his disappointment, because he knows it’s stupid to be feeling this way at all. Rationally, Yuji knows that nobody owes him their sadness or their happiness over his life or his death, but it still stings to know he means that little to them.

To Megumi, especially.

Yuji allows himself to chance a glance at him, at his lithe frame and his sharp cheekbones, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheeks. He looks the same as Yuji remembers him, to the image he always dreamed of at night when he missed him too much, but also a bit different. His words come out quietly, but more assured, lacking any amusement in them. There are also dark shadows underneath his pretty eyes, implying that he hasn’t been sleeping well. Yuji also notices the way his hands are trembling, a slight tremor to his fingers, as he shoves them deep into his pockets.

Yuji’s heart aches with longing and the urge to comfort. He wants to touch because looking isn’t enough, none of this is enough, but he can’t. But then Megumi’s eyes find him, boring into him, and Yuji feels like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have.

But later, when shit starts to hit the fan when they realize that the exam has been infiltrated, Megumi walks towards him. He places a firm hand on Yuji’s shoulder, his touch cold through the fabric of his uniform but it feels searing hot to his heart that’s beating into overdrive.

His dark eyes are cold as ice as he glowers at Yuji, staring down at him with an intensity that makes Yuji break out in a cold sweat. He’s not intimidated, nor does he think Megumi looks unfairly hot like this. Nor does he want to lean into his touch, let his eyes flutter closed, and let Megumi do unspeakable things to him. Of course not, he swears it. It’s not the time for any of this, Yuji has to get his head out of the gutter.

“Fushiguro –”

“If you ever die again, I’ll kill you myself,” Megumi says, cutting him off without any care to what Yuji was going to say. Yuji doesn’t miss the way his tone is inflected with concern and fear, however, which makes him falter. “Got it?”

Yuji nods vigorously, swallowing audibly to push his heart down his throat and back into his chest.

“Guess I can’t die on you then,” Yuji replies with confidence. The kind of confidence Megumi needs to believe him.

Megumi doesn’t provide an answer, already leaving him and the whole room behind, but Yuji’s heart is beating too loud in his ears for him to notice. Maybe, just maybe, Megumi really did miss him underneath all his thorny layers.

He’s always been a tsundere, after all.

 

⍣

 

Everything in the exchange event goes wrong because of course it does. Yuji is starting to feel like it’s just his luck that wherever he goes, he will find sorcerers and curses alike trying to murder him just for existing. It’s exhausting, he doesn’t mind it too much, but he hates how all his friends have to get dragged into the fray as well when it has nothing to do with them.

At least it’s over now, Yuji thinks, and he can recuperate in the safety of his dorm room once more.

He sighs, his shirt and pants discarded in a careless heap on the floor as he tries his best with the first-aid box. Yuji doesn’t have any injuries that requires going to the infirmary and getting looked at by Ieiri, but he’d rather not leave all his cuts unattended to. He already has enough scars as it is. He’s also restless being back in his dorm room again, everything left just the way it was before he had his short stint with death, except layered in dust. It’s only been about two months since then and now, but he feels like a stranger in his own space, feels like he no longer belongs here.

Yuji lets out a hiss at the stinging pain as he applies the cotton pad soaked in alcohol to a shallow cut on his stomach. Fuck, that curse today really wasn’t messing around, though he’s happy he managed to hold his own a bit against it. Todou’s texts are also blowing up his phone, calling him ‘brother’, and spamming him with pictures of his favorite idol because he wants Yuji to be similarly blessed with the perfection that she is. Yuji finds it odd that Todou likes him so much right off the bat when he’d wanted to kill him beforehand, literally taking him under his wing, and fighting by his side. Still, Yuji thinks he’s a swell dude, so he doesn’t mind it too much.

And well, that idol is pretty hot, Yuji concedes.

There are three successive raps to his door, pulling Yuji away from his thoughts and Todou’s texts about Aya-chan. He croons a simple “come in!” as he continues to apply alcohol to his cut, slabbing a band-aid over it. He jolts straight, hoping that Nobara isn’t here because she will murder him if she finds Yuji in nothing but his underwear since she really fucking hates guys –

The door opens, Yuji already has his apologies ready on his tongue, when he finds Megumi in his entryway. Distantly, it occurs to Yuji that this is the first time that Megumi showed up at his dorm, because it was always Yuji latching himself to Megumi’s dorm every night. Maybe that’s why he feels like such a stranger in his own dorm because most of the time he’s spent at the dorms was always spent in Megumi’s dorm rather than his own.

But Yuji doesn’t dwell on any of those thoughts, not when Megumi is standing frozen in his doorway, eyes transfixed on Yuji. Raking all over him, from head to toe, eyes lingering over his chest and the litany of cuts that decorate its expanse. He’s looking at Yuji like he’s never seen him before, eyes wide and his hand frozen midair where he used it to open the door, red slowly creeping up on his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Visible all the way from Yuji’s perch on his bed.

Suddenly, Yuji feels very naked under the weight of Megumi’s piercing gaze that doesn’t shy away at all, making warmth creep up the nape of his own neck in tow. Almost like Megumi’s blush is contagious.

Like this, Yuji almost wishes that it was Nobara who decided to knock on his door. Thinks that dealing with her profanities as she flung things at him for disgracing her with his almost naked body would be easier to deal with than Megumi’s silent gaze that speaks volumes in a language Yuji is ignorant of.

“Itadori,” Megumi says, breaking the tense silence between them first. His eyes bore into Yuji’s face, dark and unreadable. “Is there a reason why you’re clad in nothing but your underwear?”

“Well, you see,” Yuji chokes out, warmth spreading to his cheeks like a fire and his collarbones that can’t be contained. “I got a bit – or well, a lot – roughed up really. It’s easier to get everything this way.”

Megumi hums, closing the door behind him as he approaches Yuji’s bed, eyes taking in his dorm room around him. It flusters Yuji a bit, making him regret that he hadn’t cleaned at any point since coming here. A bunch of manga volumes strewn across the floor, his clothes and his uniform are all piled up into one heap on ‘the chair’, and he’s only slightly regretting his choice of using bikini clad booby women posters as his decoration. There’s also a porn magazine poking out from underneath one of his pillows that he hopes Megumi doesn’t notice because that would be so mortifying –

“Why didn’t you go to Ieiri-sensei?” Megumi asks, allowing himself to sit carefully on the edge of Yuji’s bed. He leaves an appropriate amount of distance between them, almost as if the first-aid box between them is acting like their chaperone. “She’d probably be able to fix up all your cuts a lot better and more efficiently than whatever you’re doing.”

Yuji hates how nervous he is that Megumi is in his space, but he’s not used to ever having a friend – let alone Megumi – in a place that’s his own. Technically, because this place still doesn’t feel like it’s his own, but that’s beside the point.

“She has her hands full as it is with other students who need the medical attention way more than I do.” Yuji shrugs. He turns back to the alcohol swab in his hand, moving to apply it to the next cut. “I can deal with this much on my own.”

“You got roughed up by a special grade curse,” Megumi points out. “I think you’ve earned the right to her attention just as much as the others do.”

“Yet here I am.” Yuji grins at him.

“Yet here you are,” Megumi repeats. His eyes linger on Yuji’s face for a moment, a moment that lasts a few beats too long, when he takes the alcohol swab from Yuji’s hand. “Let me do it. You obviously suck at this.”

Yuji both hates and loves the way his fingers tingle where Megumi touches him.

“I do not suck at this, it just hurts, so it’s taking some time, okay?” Yuji whines.

“Right.” Megumi rolls his eyes, moving their chaperone in the form of the first-aid box aside, and approximating the distance between them on the bed. Yuji is also feeling a bit flustered because Megumi is fully dressed in his all-black ensemble of a loose black sweater and pants, where Yuji only has his boxers to give him any semblance of modesty. “I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt too much.”

With that said, he applies the alcohol swab right over the cut, and Yuji hisses audibly. From the pain or from the feeling of Megumi’s fingers on him, he’s not sure.

“You’re such a big baby,” Megumi drawls. “I can’t believe you got these cuts without even flinching, but you’re whining about getting them patched up.”

Yuji has a retort ready, but he notices how Megumi’s lips are titled upwards as he works on his cuts, the active effort he makes to be gentler despite his taunts. Yuji bites his lip, nodding.

“I guess I am a big baby,” Yuji concedes instead. “But thank you for taking care of me regardless.”

Megumi’s finger traces the scabbed over scar in the middle of Yuji’s chest, the one where Sukuna ripped Yuji’s heart out. Yuji shivers underneath the touch, goosebumps erupting across his skin. Megumi’s eyes flicker to his own, the ghost of a smile that was once on his face disappearing again.

They both know without mention what that scar is, where it came from, and all the pain attached to it.

“The scar is still there,” Megumi comments, splaying his cold hand over Yuji’s chest, his regenerated heart reverberating against it. Too fast, because Yuji’s heart is racing, and he hopes Megumi doesn’t think too much of it. “Guess Sukuna decided not to heal that when he graciously decided to bring you back.”

“Yeah well, Sukuna was never that generous to begin with,” Yuji sighs. He throws his head back, laughing mirthlessly. “He’s kind of an asshole. He likes to bully me, it’s annoying. The last thing he’d do is heal my wounds; he’d probably leave them on purpose just for the memory. Or for laughs. Maybe both.”

At least, Yuji thinks, he’s been learning how to shut Sukuna out of his head sometimes. He knows how to compartmentalize, how to block him out, and shut him off. Which is important because Yuji really doesn’t want him looking into certain moments, ruining them by interjecting with his antagonistic commentary that nobody needs. He doesn’t want Sukuna to ruin moments like the one he’s having with Megumi right now.

Though, he supposes just talking about him like this soured the mood as it is.

“Fuck him, I’ll end him the next time he decides to come out,” Megumi grouses out. “I’m working on some techniques that’ll make me stronger. That will make me better at protecting you.”

Oh. Yuji’s heart stills underneath Megumi’s palm that’s still there, over his chest, as if he’s still trying to come to terms that Yuji is alive. That his heart still beats. That he’s here with him.

“You don’t have to protect me, Fushiguro.” Yuji waves him off, wrapping his hand around Megumi’s wrist, vaguely registering how dainty it is in his hands. “Because I’ll protect you, I promise to never let you get hurt like that again.”

“Fuck you, Itadori,” Megumi curses under his breath, snatching his hand from Yuji’s grasp altogether. “I don’t need your protection because nobody is trying to actively murder me. I told you not to die again or I’d kill you myself, yet you ended up bartering with death again on the same goddamn day.” Megumi pauses to glower at him, but his glare is inflected with pain and hurt. “What am I supposed to do with you, Itadori?”

Could it be that Megumi is worried about him?

“What can I say, Fushiguro? Trouble finds me wherever I go.” Yuji shrugs, leaning back on the palms of his hands. He tries not to dwell on how literal that fact feels, because he does feel cursed with a spectacular bout of misfortune. The kind of misfortune that’s contagious, spilling over, and infecting everyone around him. “Maybe I should just stay in the dorm, live out the rest of my days while you guys go out and get the rest of Sukuna’s fingers for me. That way I’d avoid trouble, at least for a little bit, yeah?”

“You’re not half as funny as you think you are,” Megumi replies. There’s a slight tremor to his fingers as he resumes patching up Yuji’s torso, tightening the gauze around the wound that he’d been tending to. Yuji winces when he ties it too tightly, but he doesn’t complain. “You’re not allowed to talk about your death in front of me, alright?”

Yuji swallows audibly, heart heavy in his chest. He likes to make jokes over the things that keep him up at night, the things that fill his entirety with unadulterated fear and despair, because his fate is already sealed in stone. When he jokes over his fate like that, it helps it feel lighter than it is. Like if he makes a joke about his life, his death being the punchline, then it doesn’t have to feel so scary. So tragic.

But it seems as if Megumi doesn’t share his line of thought, nor does he find it as comedic as Yuji tries to.

“I’m sorry,” Yuji whispers, feeling properly admonished. He chances a glance at Megumi under his lashes, drinks in the way Megumi’s teeth dig harshly into his bottom lip and the furrow of his brow, wishing he could take away what’s bothering him. “But…you do know that it’s inevitable, right?”

“Fuck that,” Megumi grits out. “We’ll deal with that hurdle when it comes, but I won’t let you die. You’re not allowed to.”

Yuji takes a deep breath, using both his hands to bracket Megumi’s face, forcing him to look up at his face. He wants Megumi to see him, even if he’s sure that whatever expression on his face is all too transparent, lying his heart out between them for Megumi to read like an open book.

“I – I heard that you and Kugisaki never talked about me after I died, that you threw yourselves into training, and that was that,” Yuji says carefully. He rests his forehead against Megumi’s, breaths coming out shallowly, bracing himself for the moment that Megumi decides to shove him away. “I know this is presumptuous of me, but is there any chance that you missed me while I was gone?”

Megumi curses under his breath, but he doesn’t push Yuji away, rather he brackets Yuji’s hands with his cold and slender ones. He sucks in a deep breath, leveling Yuji a mirthless look under his lashes.

“Did you never consider that perhaps it was difficult for us to talk about you after you had literally died?” Megumi asks, voice dripping with hurt and anger. “While you were gone for two months doing god knows what with Gojo-sensei, who by the way I will never forgive for keeping you a secret from us, we had to live with the knowledge that you were dead.” Megumi closes his eyes, screwing them shut tight. “I had to live with the knowledge that you were dead, with the image of Sukuna ripping your heart out and laughing like it was all a funny joke to him tattooed behind my eyelids to haunt me in my every waking moment and in my nightmares too. I had to live with your last words ‘Live a long life’ echoing in my head to taunt me when you were already gone.”

Megumi pauses, opening his eyes to give Yuji a teary glare – augmented by the dark shadows underneath his eyes – that makes Yuji’s heart sink and shatter all at once.

“Fuck you for even asking that question, Itadori,” Megumi finishes.

Yuji remembers feeling upset when he thought that Megumi hadn’t missed him while he was gone, feeling like that Megumi’s silence was a direct indication of how little Yuji meant to him. Their friendship only having meant anything to Yuji himself. Now that Megumi has spelled out his grief like that to him, seeing it so plainly on his face, however, makes Yuji feel like a piece of shit. He doesn’t even feel a modicum of satisfaction to see that Megumi did actually miss him, only wants to slap himself because all this hurt is his fault alone.

He never wanted Megumi to feel this way, to hurt this much, all because of him.

“I’m sorry, Fushiguro,” Yuji whispers. “I’m sorry I caused you all that pain. I – I was thoughtless to even ask something like that.”

He tries to let go of Megumi’s face, to disentangle from him altogether, when Megumi’s hands tighten around his own. Rather than pulling away from Yuji, he only leans in closer, brushing his nose against Yuji’s lightly in a way that sends Yuji’s heart into cardiac arrest.

Is this…is this what Yuji thinks it is?

“I don’t need your apologies because what happened already happened,” Megumi says softly, close enough that Yuji can feel puffs of his warm breath against his lips and his dark hair grazing against Yuji’s, tickling him. “I want you to promise that you won’t throw away your life so easily again, that you won’t die, that you’ll always stay by my side.”

Yuji hates making promises he can’t keep, letting his own eyes flutter shut.

“I – I’ll try my best,” Yuji says instead.

“That’s all I ask of you,” Megumi whispers. “In our world, trying your best to stay alive is the most I can ask for.”

Yuji is about to reply, to say what, he’s not sure. He never gets a chance, though, when Megumi seals his lips against his own, effectively turning everything in his brain into a pile of useless mush. Because Megumi is kissing him, the very same Megumi that Yuji has been pining for and dreaming of for months now, kissing him in a way that exceeded all of Yuji’s wildest daydreams and fantasies. With lips so soft and plush – tasting like cherry flavored Chapstick, he notes – and an intensity he couldn’t have anticipated.

Yuji finds himself melting into the kiss without any preamble, doesn’t need an invitation to run after the one thing he’s been yearning for, for so long.

He lets Megumi consume him, hands falling from Yuji’s to wrap around his neck and bring him in closer. Yuji whines into the kiss, not quite sure what he’s supposed to do because porn and all the romance movies Gojo forced him to watch could only teach him so much, but he does try to lean in closer to Megumi. He breathes him in, lets his fingers tangle into his hair, which is so soft to the touch. He sighs when Megumi’s hands roam, touching the expanse of his skin, not in a filthy way but just to touch. To make sure that Yuji is real, that what’s happening between them is real.

And it is real, it’s so real, it’s the best thing that ever happened to Yuji since meeting Megumi all those months ago. It's all so good, so good that Yuji wishes he could kiss Megumi like this forever, but the kiss is over before Yuji can even register that it began.

“That – that was my first kiss,” Yuji gasps out, lips wet with spit as is Megumi’s. Red, swollen, and slick with Yuji’s own spit. It makes him want to taste them again.

“It was mine, too,” Megumi replies, kissing the corner of Yuji’s lips. “But I don’t mind giving it to you.”

“You don’t mind?” Yuji reiterates skeptically. “I think saying ‘you fucking loved it’ is a much better way to phrase that.”

“Oh, shut up, you’re so insufferable.” Megumi rolls his eyes, though he doesn’t deny it.

Yuji wags his eyebrows at Megumi suggestively, pushing the first-aid box away altogether so he can crawl closer to Megumi, forcing himself into his space.

“Why don’t you make me?” Yuji teases, lips curling into a smirk.

“I know what you’re after, Itadori,” Megumi sighs in exasperation, but his lips are also tilted into a smile, as he tilts Yuji’s chin upwards. “But you’re on.”

That’s how Megumi and Yuji spend the rest of their night, kissing and memorizing the taste of each other and the shapes of their lips.

 

⍣

 

In all the days that follow, Megumi follows Yuji around during training, keeping him under his hawk-eye gaze to make sure that no harm comes his way. It makes Yuji feel a bit embarrassed, especially when the others stare at them quizzically, not quite understanding why Megumi is always quietly stubborn on training with Yuji especially where he never made such requests before. Sometimes, it even takes Gojo specifically intervening for them to practice on separate teams, even if that always makes Megumi audibly bitch and grumble under his breath loud enough for Gojo to hear.

It makes Yuji flustered that Megumi, someone who rarely pays anyone any attention, to be showering Yuji with so much of it.

Freshly showered after a long day of training and classes are over, Megumi and Yuji will be walking to their dorms in relative silence. Yuji will try breaking it with some jokes or commentary about their day, but Megumi only offers noncommittal grunts in response. However, instead of Megumi entering his dorm that comes first in their corridor, he will walk past it and follow Yuji into his own dorm room regardless of whether Yuji actually wants him there or not.

(Of course, Yuji wants him there, he’s secretly thriving under all the attention and time that Megumi is giving him.)

Some days, Megumi will pin Yuji to his door with his arms, pressing his lips against his in a fierce kiss that punches the breath out of Yuji’s chest. His kisses have grown bolder, too, by the days – incorporating tongue, hands roaming over Yuji’s body and torso wherever he can touch – leaving him a melted puddle underneath his hands. Other days, Megumi will just follow Yuji to his bed and lie down with him on it, holding Yuji in his arms for hours on end without getting bored.

More than many a time, Yuji will fall asleep in Megumi’s arms and wake up to find him still awake, watching him with those dark eyes lined with dark shadows underneath. His fingers will be brushing through Yuji’s short locks or splayed across the scar on his chest, a gentle caress, as if the only comfort Megumi needs is Yuji’s proximity and the reaffirmation that his heart still beats.

They don’t have a label for any of this, and Yuji doesn’t want to presume anything, but he wonders if all this domesticity is permission for him to hope. To hope that this is something he’s allowed to have.

Tonight, they’re lying down on Yuji’s bed, bodies intertwined and their shirts off, but there’s nothing erotic about it. Rather than erotic, it feels intimate, just feeling each other and breathing in the same air. Sometimes they will kiss when they feel like it, slow and sensual kisses that are more about the emotion infused into them, than any inherent horniness.

Because, yes, Megumi does have a very sexy body under his baggy uniform, but he’s also beautiful. Has a body that Yuji can’t stop staring at, doesn’t want to stop touching, even if it’s so starkly different from the busty bodies he used to be attracted to his whole life.

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Megumi breathes into his lips, hand bracketing his face. “It still feels like I’m dreaming.”

Yuji’s heart aches because he knows the primary reason Megumi clings to him so much, showers him with all this attention he never gave him before, is because of his trauma. He’s traumatized, part of him is still grieving, and most of him blames himself for what happened. They are similar in that aspect.

Yuji does have to wonder, though, if it wasn’t for his stint with death – would Megumi ever want to hold him like the way he is now?

“I’m here,” Yuji promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I know, but I can’t wrap my head around it,” Megumi says, shutting his eyes tight. “I’m sorry, I’m being irrational.”

“You’re not,” Yuji promises. He considers Megumi for a moment, the dark shadows that line his eyes, because he’s hardly been sleeping still. Always haunted by nightmares, he’d said, so he’s been avoiding sleeping whenever he could. “But maybe, maybe it’ll be better if we talked about how time passed while we were away from each other?”

“All I did was train, there was hardly anything to write home about,” Megumi replies.

“Then tell me about your past,” Yuji concedes. “Tell me about the Fushiguro I don’t know.”

Megumi furrows his brows, but he nods once with a sigh. He starts out slowly, telling Yuji about growing up with his sister, Tsumiki, and how kind she was until she fell victim to a curse that’s kept her comatose for years now. He tells Yuji about how his father was always absent, but Gojo stepped in as a father figure, taking him in when he had nobody else and how he kept him separate from all the melodrama of the Zenin family. He talks about how lost he felt after Tsumiki was gone, always filled with a rage he couldn’t tame, so he’d try to channel it in the form of petty street fights with people who could never dream to keep up with him. That coming to this school, fighting curses, is the only thing that helped him feel any semblance of sanity.

Yuji listens to all of it without interjecting, heart aching for how lonely Fushiguro must have been all these years, wishing he could take that pain all away. Or at least, help him shoulder the pain, lightening it so Megumi doesn’t have to carry all of it on his weary shoulders.

“Tell me about what you did, about yourself, I’ve been talking too much,” Megumi says, though Yuji can already note how his eyes have started to droop. A success, he thinks, if he can get Megumi to actually sleep. “I’m listening.”

Yuji sighs, because he doesn’t really like talking about himself in any capacity, much prefers listening than sharing. But Megumi was vulnerable with him, gave him a piece of his heart just now that he rarely shares with anyone else, and Yuji wants to respect that. To show him that he trusts him, too, so he’ll give him something even if he can’t give him everything just yet.

“Okay.” Yuji draws a pattern on Megumi’s chest, something thoughtless without any rhyme or rhythm. He just likes to touch him, really, it helps calm down his rattled nerves. “Though, my life isn’t anything as interesting or dramatic as yours. Just a normal kid who grew up and went to a normal school, my grandpa was all I ever had, but then he died, and I met you. You know the story from there.” A half-truth, but Yuji isn’t ready to talk about his parents, he doesn’t think he ever will be. “After I – I died – I was hidden away in some shady room where Gojo-sensei made me train by watching a bunch of movies, some really sucked and some were great. I think I’ve become something of a movie buff now, you can ask me for recommendations any time.

“But uh – it wasn’t all great either, honestly. I – I made friends with a guy our age, his name was Junpei, and I wanted to save him, but I couldn’t,” Yuji says shakily, eyes starting to sting. Megumi’s eyes are closed now, he doesn’t even know if he fell asleep or if he’s listening, but the words pour out anyway. Images flash across his eyes of Junpei’s disfigured body, Mahito’s laughing face, and having to quench Junpei’s life with his own hands. “He died, he died a terrible death, and I couldn’t save him. It was my fault.”

“It’s not your fault, and even if it is, it’s not fair to blame yourself for everything,” Megumi speaks, showing that he’d been listening this whole time. He brushes a hand against Yuji’s nape, resting his forehead against Yuji’s. “You can’t save everyone, you’re not a superhero, you’re just a jujutsu sorcerer.”

“Then why do you blame yourself for my death?” Yuji asks softly.

Megumi’s hand stills from where it was playing with the cropped strands of his undercut. He’s silent for a few moments before he resumes his ministrations again.

“You’re different,” Megumi replies. “I don’t care about everyone else, just you.”

Just him. Yuji is the only one who matters to Megumi, a thought that makes his head spin and his heart race with hope and yearning.

“Why?” Yuji prods. “What makes me different from the rest?”

“Just that you are,” Megumi replies. “Accept it, Itadori. And let go of your guilt over him, it won’t do you any good.”

Yuji doesn’t reply, and Megumi turns around so that his back is to Yuji, its pale expanse illuminated by the moonlight streaming through his curtains. He can’t quite say that he feels comforted now, but he knows this is the most that Megumi can offer, so Yuji does accept it. Accepts that he’s special to Megumi, too, which makes his heart sing a giddy tune in his chest.

When Yuji wraps an arm around Megumi, bracketing his frame to his body, Megumi stills for a moment, but he doesn’t pull away. He melts into the touch, letting Yuji press shallow kisses to the nape of his neck, and his bare shoulders until Megumi’s breathing starts to even out and his own eyes start to droop.

Like that, Yuji falls into a blissfully dreamless sleep with Megumi in his arms.

 

⍣

 

“You like him, don’t you?” Gojo asks Yuji one afternoon on a rare occasion that Megumi was out training with Maki. “Megumi, I mean.”

Yuji is absolutely positive that if he were drinking something right now, he would have comically spat it out. As it is, he’s not drinking anything, so it feels like he spat out his own heart instead. Or tried to, because his heart is effectively lodged into his throat, beating too loudly. The sound reverberating against his ear drums so loudly, a whole concert going on in there, that he can barely hear his own thoughts over that orchestral symphony happening. 

How did Gojo know? Fuck. He thought he was doing a pretty good job at hiding his feelings, too. Fuck. 

“I – I – yeah, he’s my friend,” Yuji sputters out, his face feeling all too hot. “Of course, I like him as like, a friend.”

“A friend. Right.” Gojo nods, but he doesn’t seem to particularly buy it. He smiles at Yuji again, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes, or well, his blindfold. “You two aren’t discreet by any means, you know. He’s always coming out of your room in the mornings, hardly ever spends time in his own dorm anymore. I've also known Megumi a long time now, and I've never known him to cling to anyone like that.” 

Fuck. Yuji doesn’t even know what to say, Megumi is the one who’s good at making excuses, or at least intimidating people with his blasé devil-may-care-but-I-don’t attitude. Yuji, on the other hand, wears his heart on his sleeve, sucks at lying, and cares all too much what people think of him.

“I – I – he just can’t sleep so I’ve been helping out as a friend –”

“It’s fine, Yuji, I’m not here to judge you or condemn you. You can save the excuses for someone else.” Gojo waves him off dismissively. He sits down on a wooden bench, patting the spot next to him for Yuji to sit down. “That’s not why I’m talking to you about this.”

Yuji obliges him, sitting down, hands fidgeting. 

“Then why?”

“I had a best friend that I liked, too. As a friend, sure, but also as something more,” Gojo says, casting a glance in Yuji’s direction. “He was my everything.”

Yuji immediately notes the use of past tense, his heart dropping. 

“Really?” Yuji prompts. “What happened to him?”

“He died,” Gojo replies, tone carefully light and devoid of any emotion. As if it’s something he had to practice on until he could finally speak the words without his tone cracking. “I killed him myself.”

Somehow, Yuji hadn’t expected that, but Gojo seems a bit easier to understand now that he knows this information. Less enigmatic and more traumatized than he thought. He tries to process it, tries to imagine the situation, putting himself in Gojo’s shoes with a knife pointed to Megumi’s throat. He tries to process ever having to kill Megumi with his own hands, and his heart aches so astutely at the mere thought of it. He doesn’t think he’d be able to, doesn’t know how he’d continue to live on knowing that he did. 

Is this the pain that Gojo shoulders each day? How sad. 

“Oh,” Yuji breathes. “I – I don’t know what to say.”

“Well, there isn’t much to be said about something like that,” Gojo says. “I’m only telling you this, so you know that I understand what you’re going through, but also as a warning.” He turns to Yuji fully, no trace of humor or fake smiles on his face anymore. “Falling in love with another sorcerer is only a recipe for disaster. One of you will die, you won’t always be lucky enough to come back, and that will ruin the other person. Whichever one of you who lives on will do so with a hole in his chest that he will never be able to fill, no matter how hard you try to compartmentalize or let time heal your wounds. I think both of you might know a little about that already.”

Yuji flinches at that, heart aching at the concept of losing Megumi again. Of making Megumi lose him again, especially after he’s seen just how deeply his first death experience traumatized Megumi as it is. Would Megumi be able to come back from it if he couldn’t keep his promise to him to keep on living? Would Yuji be able to keep going if Megumi died, if Yuji himself had a hand in it somehow? He knows without a shadow of a doubt that he wouldn’t be able to. 

Yuji nods contritely. 

“Why are you telling me this?” Yuji asks finally.

“Because I don’t want you to turn out like me, to carry that burden for the rest of your years. Also, because you’re easier to talk to than Megumi, that kid is stupidly stubborn, and refuses to listen to reason.” Gojo laughs mirthlessly. He casts a side-long glance at Yuji, contemplative. “Though, I’m afraid it might be too late for that now, isn’t it?”

It is too late. It’s been too late for a long time now, but Yuji doesn’t reply, lets the silence answer for him. 

“I’m sorry, Yuji, I really am.” Gojo squeezes his shoulder as he stands up to leave. “But for the record? I hope things work out for you two.”

“I hope so, too,” Yuji whispers, long after Gojo had left him to his jumbled thoughts and emotions intertwining as one, his words lost in the wind. “I’ll try to make things work.”

 

⍣

 

One afternoon in August, Yuji finds himself asking Megumi and Nobara for a request.

“Let’s go to the beach this weekend,” Yuji told them. “While the weather is still warm.”

Megumi frowned from his perch at his desk, but Nobara brightened up visibly.

“The beach? I’ve never been! I should get a cute swimming suit,” she said. When she caught Megumi’s frown, she punched him harshly in the shoulder, uncaring of the stream of cusses that fell from his lips afterwards. “Don’t be such a stick in the mud. Let’s go.”

“I don’t like the sun. Or sand. Or people in general,” Megumi groused out, tossing his head back in disgruntled exasperation.

“Hah? No wonder you’re so unpopular despite having such a pretty face,” Nobara said, rolling her eyes at him. “You’re such a doom and gloom guy, what the hell?”

“Full offense, but your opinion means very little to me, Kugisaki.” Megumi turned to Yuji, cocking his eyebrow. “Why the beach?”

Because Yuji has had a bad feeling ever since his fight with the two cursed children, since he had eaten Sukuna’s last finger. Had a feeling that he was on the brink of something terrible, that everything was about to change, and he would lose everything. He wanted to make memories with his friends, something to hold onto if everything went awry, or at least so he didn’t have to regret everything so much the next time he’s faced with death.

Yuji, of course, didn’t say any of that.

“I’ve never seen the sea before either.” Yuji scratched his cheek, considering Megumi with imploring eyes. “Please, Fushiguro?”

Megumi contemplated Yuji with a piercing gaze, something akin to skepticism coloring his features, but he didn’t call him out on it. Instead, he sighed, nodding once.

“Fine, whatever you want.” Megumi shrugged. “But we won’t stay long.”

“Thanks, Fushiguro.” Yuji grinned widely. “I owe you one. Next outing is your choice!”

Nobara fell into a coughing fit at that, saying something that sounded a lot like ‘Disgusting’ and ‘Gay’, but Yuji might just be projecting.

But that’s how Yuji convinced Megumi and Nobara to come out with him on the weekend, visiting the closest beach to their school. Nobara brought Maki – refusing to go to the beach alone with two guys – who brought Panda and Inumaki in tow. Yuji invited Gojo, too, but he’d refused his request. He said he didn’t particularly like beaches because they dredged up bad memories and Yuji knew well enough not to pry any further than that.

Yuji stands at the beach in his swimming trunks and a printed shirt with red Akatsuki clouds on it, enamored by the view in front of him. It’s one that the pictures and films could never do any justice. The clear blue water crashing against the coast, the sun illuminating the sea water with a sparkly sheen of gold, the soft sand underneath his feet. It’s an image augmented by the sounds of rambunctious laughter filling the air; Nobara and Maki holding a water gun fight while Panda attempts to evade them, so he doesn’t get wet. Inumaki lazily tries to help Panda, but Yuji can tell that he’s actually vying to help out Nobara and Maki’s team instead. This stolen moment of happiness feels special to Yuji, infectious, warming his heart.

And then there’s Megumi, who’s ignoring them, standing idly by Yuji’s side.

Yuji looks to the side, seeing Megumi with his black hair swaying in the wind, exposed pale skin shining under the sunlight. When he turns to Yuji, dark eyes meeting Yuji’s lighter ones, Yuji thinks idly that he looks beautiful like this. He commits the image to memory, tucking it away for safekeeping, and holds it close to his heart.

He lets his hand fall by his side, bumping against Megumi’s, fingers brushing together. Subtle, nothing the others would see from so far away, but Megumi immediately jolts underneath the touch.

“Go into the water with me?” Yuji asks him softly.

“No,” Megumi immediately disagrees.

“Why not?” Yuji whines. “What’s the point in coming to the beach if we don’t go into the water?”

“Well, I can’t swim and I’m not particularly fond of drowning,” Megumi replies wryly.

“Neither can I,” Yuji replies without missing a beat, smiling brightly at him. “Don’t worry, I won’t let you drown, Fushiguro.”

Megumi stares at Yuji for a moment too long, lips twitching into a smile. His fingers wrap around Yuji’s loosely as he cocks his head to the side.

“How are you gonna do that, Itadori?” Megumi hums.

“I’d learn how to swim just to make sure you don’t drown,” Yuji replies confidently. “I said I’d protect you.”

“How sweet.” Megumi rolls his eyes fondly. He tugs on Yuji’s hand lightly. “We can stand in the water, but that’s as far as I want to go.”

“Okay,” Yuji concedes, following Megumi into the water. “Let’s do that.”

Inumaki’s eyes linger on them, on their locked hands, his eyes flickering with understanding. Yuji, however, pretends not to see it. His conversation with Gojo was already mortifying enough as it is.

The water is cold, a lot colder than Yuji anticipated, sending shivers down his spine. The gentle crash of the waves against their calves, the feel of soft stones underneath his feet, the sun beating down over their heads all stand out to Yuji. The feel of Megumi’s fingers loosely locked around his, how beautiful he looks standing serenely in the sea’s turquoise blue, is an image embossed upon his heart.

“This is nice,” Yuji says, breaking the silence. “This kind of feels like a date, doesn’t it?”

“It would have been a proper date if you didn’t bring Kugisaki and the rest along,” Megumi replies sullenly.

“Aww, did you want it to be a date? Just the two of us?” Yuji teases, bumping his shoulder against Megumi’s.

“I did,” Megumi replies evenly.

Yuji’s head jerks towards Megumi, taking in the dusting of red on the tips of his ears despite his best attempts to maintain a neutral expression. Yuji squeezes his hand, interlocking their fingers together tightly.

“Yeah, well, we’re alone together now,” Yuji says softly. “Being with you like this is nice.”

Megumi turns to him, brows furrowed, fingers twitching around Yuji’s imperceptibly. He cocks his head to the side, contemplating Yuji again. It throws Yuji for a loop, because Megumi has been staring at him like this all day, as if he’s trying to decipher a complicated math problem. As if he’s on the brink of finally figuring it out.

“It is nice,” Megumi agrees. He steps closer towards Yuji, his other hand finding Yuji’s, giving no care to whether their friends see them or not. “But I want to understand why you’re doing this all of a sudden.”

“What are you talking about?” Yuji laughs too loud. “I told you I’d never been to the sea before, that I wanted to spend some time with you guys.”

“Cut the bullshit, Itadori,” Megumi spits out harshly. “You’re a lot more transparent than you think. Tell me what this is actually about.”

Of course, Megumi saw right through him, through this whole charade of normalcy Yuji is trying to play. Yuji swallows, knowing that Megumi won’t take to the truth kindly. It’ll only piss him off, rile him up, as he reminds Yuji of their promise. ‘Don’t die. If you die, I’ll kill you myself.’ While Yuji enjoys that attention, that kind of caring, Gojo’s warning rings dully in the recesses of his mind and it makes his heart sink with fear and concern.

Because Yuji isn’t the only one who changed since the prison ward incident. Megumi changed, too, has become clingier for one, but has changed in other ways too. Always on edge, quick to anger, his empathy for others wearing thin. This changed Megumi wants nothing more than to throw Yuji in a bubble and act as his sole protector, because really, Yuji doesn’t think he was exaggerating when he told him that he’s the only one who matters. It’s concerning to Yuji, but he doesn’t know how to make it better, not when it's his fault that Megumi turned out this way in the first place.

Which begs the question of what will happen to this Megumi if Yuji has to go away? If Yuji dies? Will he be able to come back from it when the first time has rendered him like this?

It's a silly train of thought to have, but there’s this sinking feeling of foreboding that festers in his gut, telling him that his time is running out.

“I just – I wanted to make some memories with you guys,” Yuji tries.

“Why?” Megumi presses him.

Why? Well, if the foreboding feeling in his gut is any indicator, if everything will come to an end soon, then he doesn’t want to regret anymore. He wants to have stolen moments of happiness like these to cherish, so that when it’s his time to go, he doesn’t have to regret so much.

“Because I love you,” Yuji says instead, heart proffered towards Megumi in their hands that are intertwined for him to take. “I love you a lot, Fushiguro, more than I should as a friend.”

Yuji watches the way Megumi’s pale cheeks bloom with a dark shade of red that has little to do with the sun and everything to do with Yuji’s words. His flush is complemented with his eyes widening, his hands twitching and clenching around the heart in Yuji’s hands, as if he’s not sure if he wants to let go or pull Yuji in closer. His mouth opens and closes, looking genuinely speechless, as Yuji waits for his answer.

It feels like a low blow to admit his feelings right now to divert Megumi’s attention. It feels especially low considering the context of Yuji saying it, with this terrible sense of finiteness in his gut. But like Gojo said, he’s selfish. Yuji doesn’t want to regret when he dies, doesn’t want to fear his own death so much. The last time he died, he was riddled with regret for never telling Megumi how he felt.

It might be selfish, but when it’s Yuji’s time to go, he wants Megumi to have known how he felt. He doesn’t want to carry that secret down with him to his own grave. He wants Megumi to know that he was loved – that he was both Yuji’s best friend and the love of his life – even if it will hurt him in ways that Yuji can’t anticipate.

“You’re so unfair, Itadori,” Megumi whispers, ducking his head to hide the single tear that falls from his eye. “You’re such a selfish and stupid idiot, but I love you too, dumbass.”

“I’m glad then.” Yuji smiles, wiping Megumi’s tear away with the pad of his calloused thumb. “Thank you, Megumi. For being my first and best friend, for protecting me, and for being able to love a dumbass like me.” He knows he can’t kiss him in the open like this, so he settles for kissing his own fingers, tasting Megumi’s salty tears on them. “Next time, I’ll take you out on a proper date. Just the two of us.”

“I’ll hold you to that, Itadori,” Megumi replies.

“You know I keep my promises.” Yuji laughs. “I’ll make it up to you, Fushiguro.”

The words, along with Yuji’s memories of the day, are all tinged with something bittersweet.

 

⍣

 

Shibuya changed everything. With change, often comes good and the bad, but Yuji can’t think of a single good thing that came out of Shibuya. It was as if Pandora’s Box had been opened, everything bad coming out of it, but in their case, there wasn’t even hope to keep the stakes even.

Out of Shibuya, they only found tragedy, loss, and despair.

Yuji had been concerned that he’d die in Shibuya, but he didn’t, was almost disappointed that he didn’t. Instead, in Shibuya, Yuji lost the friends he held dear, Nobara’s final words haunting him in his nightmares. In Shibuya, he lost Gojo who was the only one who vouched for him despite being a pariah in the jujutsu community, the best teacher he could have ever asked for. In Shibuya, Yuji lost Nanami who cared for him in a way that felt almost the same as a father would care for a son. In Shibuya, Yuji let Todou get hurt at his expense, losing his own hand in the process of protecting Yuji while he suffered in his anguish at the worst time possible. In Shibuya, Yuji lost himself to Sukuna, and killed dozens of people – their blood staining his hands red and their screams haunting his nightmares every night. It feels as if Yuji is the one who killed them with his own hands.

In Shibuya, Yuji lost Megumi, too.

Yuji didn’t lose Megumi in the literal sense. Didn’t lose him in death or a terrible fight they’d never be able to come back from, but it felt more nuanced than that. A kind of loss that stems from the knowledge that everything has changed, they have changed, and nothing can be the same again. They can’t be the same anymore. That game of charades they were playing together – a façade of normalcy and domesticity – that Yuji tricked himself into believing that he could keep. At least for a little while.

Now, Yuji realizes that dream was nothing more than a joke, with him at the punchline.

Yuji knows that if there’s anything he can’t be selfish about, it’s staying with Megumi. So, when the barriers are lifted, Yuji wipes his tears that come out smeared with blood that isn’t his own, and he leaves. Choso follows him, calling him a brother, and Yuji wants nothing more than to tell him to leave even if he appreciates the sentiment.

Because everyone who remains around Yuji always gets hurt. Almost as if Yuji himself is cursed. Cursed to always hurt the people around him and lose everyone he’s ever cared about. Losing Megumi, hurting him again like that because Sukuna has his eyes set on him, is something that Yuji refuses to do. That kind of loss isn’t something he’d ever be able to bear. The loss he’s already experienced is something he’s not used to – losing people he cares about is something that never gets easy no matter how many times he has to deal with it – but he hopes that one day it will be easier. That one day when he’s older, even if loss is still as gut wrenching as it is now, he will be more adept at being alone.

Though, Yuji figures it doesn’t matter whether he gets used to it or not. Time isn’t something he ever had much of, not with a death sentence looming over his head. The luxuries of love and friendship were never his to have in the first place. He was a fool to have ever persuaded himself otherwise.

 

⍣

 

Wandering Tokyo like some sort of vagabond, killing stray curses in the meanwhile, with a death sentence hovering over his head is nothing short of surreal. Well, vagabond isn’t the right word, fugitive would probably work better. It makes Yuji feel a little bit better to feel like he’s Harrison Ford who’s on the run from the authorities, while simultaneously trying to clear his name.

Getting almost killed by one of the Zenin guys whose out for Megumi and actually killed and brought back yet again by one of his senpais, on the other hand, is surreal in a whole other sense of the word.

Though, unlike Harrison Ford in that one movie, Yuji isn’t free of guilt. He deserves the decree that he’s been sentenced, but not yet. There are still more curses to kill, more people to save. His role hasn’t been carried out yet. Once the chaos has settled down, once Gojo has been saved and a semblance of order has been restored, Yuji will turn himself in.

He’s already come to terms with his death a long while ago, knows there’s no more point in prolonging this any further. Though, he feels some guilt about breaking his promise to Megumi, feels like he’s giving up somehow when he promised he’d try his best. Logically, though, he knows things now are a lot more complicated than they were then.

But then, despite Yuji’s best efforts to distance himself from Megumi, Megumi finds him. He comes back, looking fine when the last time Yuji saw him, he was plastered against a broken wall with death in his eyes. He looks at him and he sees Megumi soaked in blood, breathing shallow as his body grows colder, waiting for death to steal away his final breath. He’s fine now, but how many times must Yuji find Megumi like that? How many times does he have to find Megumi on the brink of death because he risked it all for someone like him? It’s an image that has haunted Yuji’s nightmares for days since Shibuya.

Yet here he is, asking Yuji to come back as if nothing has happened at all. As if he isn’t sentenced to death. Changing his tune to beseeching his help with the Culling Games, some games that sound like a much more fucked up version of the Hunger Games. Wants his help with saving Tsumiki. And Yuji can’t say no, not when Megumi is setting his pride aside and allowing himself to be vulnerable, asking Yuji for his help because he knew he had nobody else to turn to. So, Yuji puts his death plans aside and compartmentalizes his self-loathing so he can be of use to Megumi and says yes.

‘Save me, Itadori.’

How could Yuji ever say no to that?

 

⍣

 

Everything is awkward now, their awkwardness pooling over to the rest of the room.

Maki and Mei-Mei have already long since disappeared. Yuta, too, excuses himself to take first watch of the night, claiming he can’t sleep, albeit dragging a disgruntled Choso with him in tow. As such, Yuji finds himself alone in Megumi’s presence. He has a feeling that Yuta excused himself intentionally to give Yuji and Megumi a chance to talk properly, if only to resolve the thick tension that’s been hanging in the air ever since Megumi found him.

It might also be the way Yuta gripped his shoulder on the way out, whispering a hushed ‘Good luck’ on his way out.

Yuji stares at the dying flame in front of them, providing sputtering spurts of warmth, but nothing substantial. It hardly provides a distraction from the way Megumi is glaring a hole in his face from across the campfire, but he forces himself to focus on it anyway. To focus on anything except Megumi.

He hates this. Why did everything have to change so much that even words can no longer be exchanged between them normally now? Why do they have to sit across a dying campfire, feeling like a chasm greater than the Grand Canyon lies between them, one that’s impossible to be bridged. It makes Yuji ache for everything that he yearns for, so infinitesimally close within reach, but infinitely far away.

He chances a glance at Megumi, their eyes immediately locking, because Megumi hasn’t stopped staring at him for a single moment since he came here. He looks the same as he did a few days ago, but more jaded, eyes sharper and his lips turned down into a frown that lacks any mirth or kindness. The Megumi that almost died in Shibuya isn’t the same Megumi that Yuji knew, which shatters his heart, wishing he could take it all away. Turn back time and prevent all the terrible events of that night from happening.

But he can’t, all Yuji can do is drown in his regrets. A mountain of them that only continues to grow exponentially in size the more time passes by.

And here Yuji was cocky enough to once think he could protect Megumi, keep him safe, prevent him from reaching the very state that he’s reached now.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” Megumi bites out.

“Like what?” Yuji asks.

“Like I’m a stranger,” Megumi replies. “Are you trying to absolve your conscience about avoiding me for weeks when I didn’t know if you were dead or alive?”

His words are scathing, making Yuji flinch, especially when he notes the subtle inflection of hurt in his tone. He hates that he hurt Megumi like this. He has to remind himself that distancing himself was the only way to make it hurt marginally less for them both on the long run. He can’t let Megumi guilt trip him, but really, Yuji was already feeling guilty long before Megumi found him.

The guilt – the heavy feeling of it that rests in the base of his stomach, twisted and wretched – is a feeling that Yuji always carries. Though, when it comes to Megumi, that emotion is always amplified to exponential levels, making it almost unbearable to handle.

“I did that to protect you,” Yuji replies weakly.

“With all due respect, you can shove your ‘protection’ up your ass,” Megumi replies harshly. “I told you that I wouldn’t let you die, that I’m the one who does the protecting here, alright? So shut up and stop using your head, it’ll only make you stupider.”

Yuji knows that Megumi isn’t trying to be cruel, that he’s hurting, but his words still hurt. He balls his hands up into fists, gritting his teeth, feels himself starting to shake uncontrollably.

“Why is it ‘stupid’ to accept your fate instead of living in denial, Fushiguro?” Yuji finally says the words he’s been thinking for months now. Since Megumi started this whole thing between them, insisting on making Yuji play along with his game of make-believe, when he almost started to believe it. “Why is it ‘stupid’ for me to want to protect you and make sure you don’t get hurt? Again. You’re not the only one hurting here, Fushiguro!”

Megumi stands up, eyes wide with rage as he glowers down at Yuji.

“It’s not denial, Itadori, I’m going to make it into a reality. For as long as I live, I won’t let you die, I refuse it,” Megumi speaks lowly. He walks around the simmering campfire, fisting his hand in Yuji’s sweater, forces him to look him in the eye. Like this, Yuji can see how Megumi’s eyes twitch, feels how fierce his vice grip is around his sweater, almost looks borderline psychotic like this. “And who do you think you’re protecting exactly by pushing me away, huh? Whose gonna save me when I get ambushed by crazy Zenin clan sorcerers who are coming for my ass? Whose gonna help me out with these sick Culling Games, huh? I need you by my side, Itadori, you know that.”

Yuji feels his eyes start to sting, shaking his head incessantly.

“Everyone around me always gets hurt, I don’t want you to get hurt –”

“I can take care of myself,” Megumi cuts him off. He grins manically at Yuji. “I’m still in one piece, aren’t I?”

Yuji wants to say that he wasn’t in one piece before, that he almost died. That he would have died if it wasn’t for whatever perverse interest Sukuna has in him.

“But Sukuna –”

“Can fuck himself,” Megumi replies. “I’m working on a cursed technique to deal with him.” He sinks down to his knees, hands shifting from Yuji’s sweater to his hands. Megumi clasps them in his own tightly, his glare shifting to an imploring gaze. “All I ask of you, Itadori, is to trust me. To not push me away, to not throw your own life away.”

“Why?” Yuji asks shortly. “Why are you so adamant, Fushiguro? Do you really need my help that badly? You have Maki-senpai and Yuta-senpai.”

“You know it’s not just about that, stupid. It’s because I’m in love with you, so I’m willing to fight for you.” Megumi presses a kiss to his knuckles. “When you push me away like that, when you disappeared for days on end and I had no idea whether you were still alive or not, it breaks my heart.”

Yuji’s heart throbs in his chest at the words, will never get used to Megumi saying them. He nods, contrite with guilt. It’s like he can’t get anything right lately.

“I love you, too,” Yuji whispers, quiet and intimate, because the words still mean so much to him as he utters them. “I’m sorry I hurt you again.”

Megumi climbs into his lap, effectively winding Yuji, as he approximates the distance between them until there is hardly any left between them. Seeing as how Megumi is already taller than Yuji, when he sits in his lap like this, he’s basically towering over him. Yuji has to crank his neck to look up at him, eyes immediately latching onto the red flush that colors Megumi’s cheeks and the tips of his ears. Megumi curls in on himself to brush his nose against Yuji’s, breathing hot puffs of air against his lips, his slender fingers wrapping around the nape of his neck to latch onto the small hairs that rest there.

“If you’re sorry, how do you plan on making it up to me?” Megumi whispers against Yuji’s lips.

“By kissing it better?” Yuji prompts weakly.

“That won’t be good enough, Yuji,” Megumi teases, breathing his first name for the first time. “You’ll have to try harder than that.”

His name rolls off his tongue fluidly. So fluidly that it makes Yuji’s whole body erupt with shivers, his heart pulsating acutely, molten hot lava pooling in the base of his stomach. Yuji swallows again.

“Then what do you need me to do?”

“I want you to take me,” Megumi replies softly, tugging on the base of Yuji’s undercut. “Mark me, ruin me, fuck me. Make me yours.”

Oh. Yuji thinks his heart just flatlined, hand squeezing around Megumi’s waist.

“Are you sure?” Yuji asks, licking his lips. “We – we never did that before.”

“I am,” Megumi replies, dark eyes lighting up with desire and something else. “I want you, Yuji. No, I need you. I’ve never been surer of anything else.”

Yuji contemplates this, over his heart that’s reverberating in his ears and the searing hot arousal that’s singing his veins, making his thoughts a bit fuzzy. He can’t argue with it, not when he wants Megumi, too, when Megumi is the only one keeping him somewhat sane. Though, Yuji acknowledges that they’ve both lost a few screws since Shibuya, but he doesn’t care too much about that.

There’s also the fact that if they sleep together now, share a level of intimacy neither of them have ever shared with anyone else before, they’d be able to cherish that memory. Especially as they are about to dive deep into the unknown realms of the Culling Games.

Yuji knows that’s nothing but an excuse, however. Memories don’t make him regret any less, but they only make him yearn harder for what he can’t have. But he’s also selfish, selfish and in love, and he wants to take. Take everything that Megumi is offering him and more, just for tonight, before everything has to change once more.

“Okay,” Yuji concedes finally. “I’ll take you and give you all of me in return.”

Though, really Yuji gave all of himself to Megumi a long time ago. Probably from the first time he met him, when he traded the life that he’d always known to save a boy he hardly knew.

They get up, Yuji already missing Megumi’s weight on his lap, as they find an empty room within the dilapidated warehouse that they’re camping out in. It’s hardly anything romantic with how dark and dreary it is, the musty smell of dust and decaying wood invading Yuji’s senses. He’s also pretty sure that he saw at least three spiders on his way in and maybe five cockroaches, which is gross, even if insects don’t scare him.

But somehow, even as Megumi casts a curtain over them so none of the others here can find or see them, Yuji doesn’t mind it. Even if he’ll lose his virginity in a gross room in a dilapidated warehouse, it doesn’t really matter much in the grand scheme of being able to hold Megumi in his arms. A fact that he feels a surprising sense of calm over, not nervous, but full of giddy anticipation. The desire he’s been holding for Megumi all these months is finally hitting its culmination point, tipping over the edge into something so physical and intimate all at once.

“Can I finally kiss you now?” Yuji asks Megumi, caging him in against the grimy wall. “Because I’ve been wanting to for some time now.”

“Mm, I guess I won’t tease you any longer,” Megumi hums, wrapping his hand around Yuji’s nape. “Kiss me, Yuji.”

Fuck, Megumi saying his first name like that will never fail to spark a guttural reaction of intense arousal each time. Concerning implications for if Megumi ever decided to call him by his given name in public, but Yuji can’t bring himself to be concerned right now. Not when he finally gets to seal his lips against Megumi’s, tasting his cherry Chapstick again, reacquainting himself with the shape of his soft lips. Tongues sliding together, the kiss already breathless, desperate and needy.

Megumi tugs at his hair, eliciting a breathless gasp into Megumi’s lips. Yuji’s hands roam everywhere he can touch, causing Megumi to throw his head back in sensitivity. Their chests are pressed together, their hearts beating to the same tandem of desire and yearning, together as one.

Yuji takes off Megumi’s uniform jacket, throwing his own off without any finesse into a crumpled pile by their feet. He then proceeds to rip open the buttons of Megumi’s shirt, buttons flying much to Megumi’s disgruntled yet flustered curses, to expose the expanse of pale skin underneath. It’s nothing he hadn’t seen before, they often change in locker rooms together and they’ve lain together shirtless before, but it feels different like this. What with Megumi staring at Yuji under his long lashes with so much want and desire, his face flushed with lust, his body quivering with anticipation for Yuji to touch and take.

“You’re so beautiful, Megumi,” Yuji breathes, splaying his hand out over his toned stomach. “So beautiful and mine.”

It feels exalting to call Megumi his, Yuji realizes. He’s never had much of anything before, not really. No say in his friends, in how he lived his life, or his own fate. But Megumi is giving himself to Yuji, is letting him have him. Megumi is Yuji’s, only Yuji’s.

Giving himself to Megumi in return only feels like a fair trade.

“Yours,” Megumi concedes breathlessly.

Yuji’s fingers brush over his nipples, enjoying the way that Megumi’s whole body seems to spark and come alive at the small touch. So sensitive. Trails his fingers down, down, down until he reaches a belt buckle. His eyes find Megumi’s for permission, Megumi nodding eagerly, so Yuji obliges him. Opens his belt, popping the button of his pants, and dragging the zipper down with some difficulty over Megumi’s very obvious tent in his pants. There’s impatience in his hands, almost as if he’s running out of time, as he pushes Megumi’s pants and boxers down in one go.

Like this, he stands naked and hard before him, and so, so beautiful. Megumi’s hands reach down instinctively to hide, but Yuji pushes them away, instead wrapping Megumi’s legs around his waist with his back still pressed against the wall. He carries him with ease, surprisingly lighter than he’d expected, his hands digging into his slim thighs as Megumi’s ankles lock around his waist.

“Oh,” Megumi breathes. “Fuck. Please fuck me, Yuji.”

“Do you even have lube or anything like that?” Yuji asks him, peppering Megumi’s throat with wet kisses. “I think it’ll be hard otherwise.”

“I – I have lotion in my pocket,” Megumi replies, cranking his neck to the side to give Yuji more access. “Left.”

Yuji nods, shifting all of Megumi’s weight to one arm as he bends down to shuffle through the pocket of Megumi’s discarded pants for the lotion. Of course, Megumi moisturizes, that’s why his skin is so clear and soft, but he’s about to be soft inside too. Yuji rights himself once more with a grin, surprised when Megumi stares at him with gaping lips and a flush high on his cheeks.

“You’re so hot,” Megumi confesses, gripping onto Yuji’s arms as an anchor. “I think I’m about to pass out.”

Yuji hums, popping the lotion cap open to drizzle some on his fingers, the scent of vanilla flooding his senses. Which is nice, blocks out the musty smell of the room they’re in. His own dick is currently throbbing in his pants, but it’s not about him right now. This is about Megumi and making Megumi feel good.

“Please don’t pass out.” Yuji laughs. He jostles Megumi up a bit, brushing his fingers over his fully hard cock lightly, before finding his hole and pressing against it with intent. “It would suck if you passed out right as things are about to get fun.”

Without any preamble, Yuji presses in one finger, anticipating the way Megumi freezes up underneath him. His arms find Yuji’s shoulders, wrapping around him so tightly like a koala as he breathes shallowly into Yuji’s throat. He’s so tight, he’s sure it must be uncomfortable for him, but Yuji soldiers on. Taking note of Megumi’s small cues, when his breathing shifts from labored to breathy, to put in a second finger. Two fingers searching for the spot that will make Megumi melt, finally inserting three when he feels Megumi’s cock leak where it’s pressed against his own stomach.

Megumi doesn’t say much, nor does he moan a lot, but Yuji realizes his body language speaks much louder volumes.

“Enough teasing,” Megumi whines. “Fuck me, Yuji, I’m ready. Please.”

“Please is hardly a word I ever hear from you, Megumi,” Yuji teases. But surely enough, he’s already unzipping his own pants, freeing his own cock, lathering it in copious amounts of lotion. He shoots Megumi a silent apology for all but finishing his moisturizer in one go. “But your wish is my command.”

Yuji bottoms out, wheezing at how tight Megumi is around him, already feels like he’s about to climax when they’ve just started. He pants against Megumi’s throat, fingers digging into Megumi’s thighs, letting Megumi adjust while he simultaneously holds back the urge to immediately release.

Distantly, he registers that he’s no longer a virgin. That he gave it to the one he loves the most in a shitty warehouse, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Move, Yuji.”

Megumi taps his shoulder, giving him the go ahead. Yuji obliges him. Unsure with his movements, thrusting awkwardly, but Megumi doesn’t seem to mind. Head lolling to the side against the wall, eyes rolling back in what looks like unadulterated pleasure, his manicured nails leaving scars on Yuji’s shoulders while his ankles dig indents into the base of his back that are sure to bruise. All marks that are left on his body that Yuji hopes won’t fade for days to come, smatterings of Megumi left all over his body, a reminder of this. Of the time they were so close without any more emotional or physical barriers to keep them apart.

Yuji starts to move with more confidence, Megumi becoming more and more pliant underneath him, mewling against his skin. Small nothings whispered into his skin that Yuji tries his best to decipher, but his brain long since melted out of his ears.

But there is one thing he captures properly, making him halt momentarily.

“I love you, Yuji,” Megumi whispers against his lips. Kissing him as he breathes the lips into his mouth, making sure he swallows them, believes them. “’m yours. Just yours.”

“Mine,” Yuji repeats, sweat dripping from his forehead. “I love you, too, Megumi.”

His thrusts start to turn sloppy, too high on both his lust and emotion, wrapping his hand around Megumi’s cock to jack him off at the same rhythm. It’s messy, Yuji hardly possesses any finesse, but he still manages to get Megumi to come all over his hand. Tightening so much around Yuji, whispering his name like a prayer, until he finds himself coming inside. A high he rides till the end, till it’s all over, the only sound is that of their own breathless pants as they come down from that high.

It's a mess as he pulls out, Megumi gasping as he does, clutching Yuji’s shoulders in a chokehold. But Yuji manages, Megumi laying down his own ruined button-down shirt on the floor for them to sit down on, so they don’t have to spend their post-coital bliss on the dirty floor with bugs and dust all around them. Yuji sighs, leaning against the ragged wall behind him, wincing at how sharp it is. He feels bad for how mangled Megumi’s back must be now, despite him never complaining once about the pain.

Megumi rests his head against Yuji’s shoulder, interlocking their fingers together.

“Thank you for indulging my request,” Megumi says softly, finally breaking the silence. “I appreciate it.”

“I wasn’t ‘indulging’ you, Megumi,” Yuji replies, feeling a spike of irritation. “I wanted you, too. I – I wanna be yours, too.”

Megumi stills against his shoulder before he melts against him again. Yuji can’t see his expression like this, but he can already make a guess at what kind of face Megumi is making right now.

“I’m already yours, Yuji, not because of what we just did, but because of everything else too. Everything always goes back to you; I’ll always care about you and Tsumiki the most in this world. It doesn’t make sense, it drives me insane, but it is what it is. And I’d do anything to make you understand that,” Megumi says, fingers twitching against Yuji’s. “But you can’t be mine when you’re always pushing me away, when I know you’re planning on leaving me again after the Culling Games are over despite everything I said. You can’t have your cake and eat it, too, Yuji. That’s just unfair.”

Yuji feels a stab of guilt in his heart, a knife twisting, because everything Megumi said is true. He wonders if that’s why Megumi asked Yuji to have sex with him, if it’s his way of securing one part of Yuji in case he decides to leave him behind again. The thought makes his heart throb, knowing that’s probably what was running through Megumi’s head the whole time they were together.

Why can’t Yuji do anything but hurt Megumi?

“I’ll ask you a question, Megumi, and I want you to answer me honestly,” Yuji says. “Would you rather live with me by your side, knowing that it will probably mean that we’d both have a shorter lifespan for it, or would you rather live a long life without me in it?”

“That’s such a stupid question.” Megumi snorts. He turns Yuji’s face to the side. “I’d choose you every single time, because there’d be no point without you by my side.” He quirks his lips upwards into the ghost of a smile. “Besides, didn’t I tell you that I’d protect you? You don’t need to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders anymore, Yuji. Let me shoulder that burden with you.”

Yuji doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how the Culling Games will go, if they will both survive them or what lays beyond them. He doesn’t know how much will continue to change, how much more they can afford to lose before they break altogether. But despite all his logic, he still feels compelled to say yes. To just give in and let Megumi take care of him like he promised, because really, he’s so tired. He wants someone to be there, to not wander alone. More than that, he wants Megumi by his side, because he fills the void in his chest that he never realizes was there until he came back. Until he demanded that Yuji stay, that Yuji let him help him.

Yuji doesn’t know if this contentment, if this love, if Megumi are things he’s allowed to have. But he wants to be selfish, wants to have them, even if he can’t. Even if he shouldn’t.

“Okay, Megumi, you win,” Yuji breathes. “I’ll stay, for whatever time we have left, I promise to stay by your side.”

“Good,” Megumi replies. "Don't forget that you still owe me a proper date after all this is over."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

When Megumi seals his promise with a kiss, it’s with a touch of familiarity and nostalgia, almost like Yuji is coming home. He knows, that even if everything continues to change, Megumi being by his side will always remain the same.

Notes:

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