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megumi can remember moments from his childhood where a strange sensation would stir in the cavern of his heart, resulting in unease. he would feel a bit bothered by the prominent feeling, but he would ultimately seal it up and shelve it away into the shadows of his mind to be dealt with later (or never).
to his dismay, that didn't work. every once in a while, that familiar sensation of unrest would catch megumi off guard. sometimes, it would discreetly sneak its way in and entangle itself with megumi’s other thoughts, expanding the inescapable chaos. other times, it'd come crashing down like a powerful, relentless wave. those instances were more rare, but megumi always managed to fight it off. he was good at fighting, good at dispelling his problems, even if it was momentarily.
however, things always come to an end. his favorite show would eventually reach its finale, someone's favorite pastry would eventually be discontinued, and beloved stores filled with cherished memories would eventually close. things would reach their end, just like how megumi could no longer fight, unable to keep this issue hidden away within the confines of the shadows.
the wave makes its presence known while he's with yuuji. they're in his room, sharing a comfortable space underneath petal soft, lavender sheets that nobara had gifted him; he hasn't used any other set of sheets since.
yuuji is across from him, right within arms distance. jade eyes slowly open, and megumi glances at yuuji before he is about to allow drowsiness to guide his eyes to rest, when he feels a familiar sensation of uneasiness in his chest.
the wave comes much too quickly for him to realise and it crashes down without warning, leaving chaos in its wake as it recedes back into the vastness, preparing for its return, whenever that would be. megumi never knew.
megumi is taken aback by a mixture of unpleasant emotions that are strong enough to make him feel nauseous. the uninvited sensation slowly works through his body like honey. he closes his eyes and attempts to ignore the thoughts he's far too familiar with being taunted by.
minutes that could be mistranslated into hours pass. he fails to deter his thoughts, for they are now louder than usual, demanding attention. megumi takes a deep breath before slowly, slowly, slowly exhaling.
what does it mean to be a boy? slips through the cracks of his heart.
megumi does not answer—refuses to—since he knows that it will not get him anywhere pleasant.
it's a question he has become familiar with, a question that has cycled through his mind throughout the years, often leaving a fog of confusion in its wake. with each time, the inquiry slowly eroded his confidence in his identity. each time, megumi could never find a satisfactory answer that would quell the growing agitation that ignited and ruthlessly burned and burned in his chest.
what did it mean to be a boy? what traits accumulate in order for someone to be identified as such?
but is it that simple? is it that structural or methodological? do differing qualities align so neatly in order to form an individual's identity? was he mistaken to believe that identity was something solid, something tangible, when really there's a possibility of it being malleable?
are you sure of this? is this who you are? think about the name your father gave you.
he shuts his eyes tighter. megumi squeezes his fists, neatly trimmed nails digging into freshly lotioned skin; he tries to focus on the faint scent of lavender. if he wasn’t careful, there would be hints of blood.
do you think that name belongs to a boy?
why is this something he had to struggle with? what could he have done to avoid it? was there something he could have done to avoid this?
again, he takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, the air exiting his body like a soft spring wind. he repeats the process, one he has grown well acquainted with over the years.
again.
again.
and again.
no matter how many times he repeats the process, the unwelcome thoughts refuse to grant him the peace he so desperately desires. they refuse to stay hidden in the shadows, no longer invisible; he's now forced to face them.
sharp teeth dig into sensitive flesh.
he doesn't want to.
blood drips onto his chin.
megumi didn't want to even begin to address the questions that have taken up a vast amount of space in his mind, questions that have been present for countless seasons. he recalls the unsettling discomfort that would accompany them, and he stiffens at how it leaves him feeling like his internal organs are shifting around.
it's not like it would simply end there, though. there were instances, earlier on, where megumi attempted to tackle the confusion on his own, to search for something that would once and for all quiet his anxieties, but such a sacrifice of comfort would only result in more unease. more uncertainty. more, more, more of what megumi tried to avoid.
he foolishly believed that finally addressing these questions would lead to answers, to relief. to his dismay, it only granted more uncertainty.
the waves take hold of him and pull him down, down, down into a vast ocean of confusion, of relentless questions that he so often fought to burn in hopes that they would finally be extinguished. suddenly, the waves no longer carry the fragrance of sea salt; the scent of gasoline overwhelms his senses as the worries and anxieties were only amplified. his heart had started to pound so loudly. his limbs were starting to feel dense with the inquiries that he may never find answers to, making it increasingly difficult to swim to shore, as the threat of drowning weighed heavily in his mind.
how can you be so sure of yourself?
letting out a quiet, strained groan, megumi turns to his side so that his back faces yuuji. he stares at his nightstand that is situated in front of him, trying to focus on something, anything that held no relation to what had amassed in his mind.
the thought of being perceived by others has megumi experiencing an unshakable sensation of discomfort. he finds it irritating when people take a look at him and try to assemble pieces of information they had of him as if he were a puzzle to be figured out. he's a person with his own qualities and quirks, not something composed of generic features with the function to meet people’s expectations. megumi wishes he could dip into the shadows instead, allowing him a moment of reprieve to escape people’s perceptions of him. if only he was allowed to seamlessly slip in and out of the shadows whenever he pleased.
it's moments like these where megumi wishes he had a reliable mentor, an adult in his life that he could go to when he sought guidance or comfort. the only adult he's familiar enough with is gojo sensei, but he is definitely not someone megumi feels comfortable enough with to confide in regarding such a vulnerable issue. megumi couldn’t talk to gojo sensei about most things, so he certainly can't imagine himself bringing this up to the white haired man. the thought of his teacher’s piercing, sapphire eyes cutting through his soul and trying to read him makes megumi feel horribly nauseous.
there are other adults at the school, such as ichiji, nitta, and nanami, and though they're responsible adults of sound mind, megumi isn’t close enough to any of them to feel like he can speak to them about such a personal issue.
it's instances like these where megumi allows himself the childish thought of wishing that his parents were here.
what would they think? would they care enough to listen to what he had to share? would they be patient with him as he stumbled over words that fiercely blossomed in his throat, filling up the enclosed space like cotton in an attempt to prevent such vulnerability from leaving his mouth?
throughout the years, megumi has become excrutiatingly familiar with relying solely on himself; the world had taught him that in the end, all one had was themselves. even still, he couldn’t help but wonder if his parents would have helped him through an ordeal like this. a burning flame of embarrassment and foolishness blazed in his chest at the mere thought; he barely knew his parents. he remembered them more through photos than memories, yet he was so desperate for their presence. it was pointless to wonder, to spend time turning such questions over and over in his mind.
his mind was persistent, regardless. would they have taken his hand and carefully guided him through such a difficult, unfamiliar problem? would they have been able to settle the unease that only served to make his chest ache?
more questions started to cycle through megumi’s mind, and he questions the existence of a technique where he could just temporarily—or permanently, that sounds nice, too—switch it off so he can bask in a moment of peace. instead, his mind forcibly pushes him to question the roles he had been assigned growing up. gifted prodigy, member of the esteemed zenin clan, jujutsu sorcerer: these were all labels that were assigned to him, roles that he had to fulfill in order to not disappoint anyone, or maybe he did it because he felt like he had to. he isn't sure anymore.
it was easier to keep these parts of himself hidden, locked behind layers and layers of security, he had concluded. there was too much to analyse, too many questions to address that he didn’t even know where to begin if he were to confide in someone about this. it has proved to be infinitely easier to keep pushing against whatever force kept causing these questions to resurface. megumi can deal with the bursts of stress and confusion. he's used to handling things like this.
feeling as if his lungs were filled with honey, megumi lets out a sigh that's more tense than he expects. he carefully rolls over so that he can look over at yuuji, who was currently sleeping, soft moonlight illuminating his peach colored hair.
megumi considers asking yuuji, and he frowns, dark eyebrows drawn together as the corners of his mouth dipped. what would he even ask him? where would he even start? jade eyes focused on a section of yuuji’s hair that was shorter than the rest, a result of unbreakable trust between him and nobara, which left him adorning an uneven haircut.
whenever he entertains the idea of allowing himself to be vulnerable about this, an abundance of thoughts quickly fill his mind, the water levels rising rapidly before he can even begin to try to stop it. gently, gingerly, megumi lifts his hand, reaching towards the cherry blossom haired boy.
would yuuji accept him, for whatever he was going through? for whoever he turns out to be? for whatever identity that would become the home that megumi would end up settling in?
he lets his hand drop, the sound muffled by the soft cotton sheets beneath them.
megumi is too afraid to find out. his comfort is certainly not more important than their relationship.
shoulders heavy with exhaustion, megumi turns back over, ready to slip into a—hopefully—restful slumber.
"megumi?" the sudden calling of his name causes his body to jolt in surprise, narrowly avoiding an elbow to yuuji’s abdomen.
blinking, megumi shifts slightly so that he's now turned over onto his other side, jade eyes establishing eye contact with sparkling honey ones.
"yeah?" he whispers, trying to dilute the stress from his voice, in hopes that it didn’t seem like he was struggling to dispel a myriad of unavoidable thoughts that demanded his attention.
"is something bothering you?" yuuji asks, his voice sun-warm.
megumi stares at yuuji, eyes scanning his face: honey eyes glittered with traces of concern as his features softened with worry, his lips curved to present a slight frown.
"why do you ask?" megumi inquires, willing his expression to not reflect the state of shambles and chaos that his heart was suffocating in.
yuuji shifts a bit to pull the shared lavender blanket up so it warmed his chin. megumi feels the warm cotton rise before it softly settles onto his shoulder and back.
"it sounded like... you were having trouble breathing? or something like that," yuuji carefully explains, eyebrows creased with worry as he spoke.
a pause, so megumi can make a decision: lie to the person he so dearly cares about, or unveil the truth, which would be similar to the act of someone forcibly reaching down his throat and pulling it out of him. not that he was familiar with such an experience, but if he had to take a guess, that’s probably what sharing the truth would feel like.
yuuji moves to carefully place a hand over megumi's, hiding his surprise at the iciness of the younger sorcerer's skin; yuuji gently squeezes his hand.
"are you anxious about something?" yuuji tries again, wrapping each word with utmost care.
megumi is known to be perceptive, but yuuji is, too. it's something megumi learned through observing yuuji’s subtle, thoughtful actions. he recalled when yuuji immediately had an idea of what to get nobara for her birthday, as well as when he was able to easily remember gojo sensei’s order at his favorite confectionery shop. there were also instances when he sensed when megumi didn’t want to be spoken to, and yuuji would leave him to himself until megumi was ready. yuuji caught sight of people's behaviors and quirks, noted them down, and remembered them with an admirable amount of care.
like always, yuuji easily senses that there is something amidst; something painfully present, something that proved to be relentless to the point that megumi had started slipping enough to be noticed.
megumi wants to close his eyes, to hide from the vulnerability of being seen; eyes reveal a lot about a person during a particular moment, and in this instance, megumi was sure his would reflect an exorbitant amount of uncertainty. he wishes he could close his eyes and dip into the shadows that promised security.
instead, he keeps them open, because having them hidden didn't feel right at this moment.
megumi gently squeezes yuuji’s hand before shifting so that both hands were holding yuuji’s. using his left hand, he starts to trace the lines of yuuji’s palm.
"i’ve been... i’ve been struggling..." megumi says, his voice so quiet that he almost can't hear himself. he pushes himself to speak up so yuuji doesn't have to strain to listen. "with... uh..."
it was hard. it was so difficult; the frustration gnawed at the lining of his stomach. why has he been cursed with an accumulation of such unwanted thoughts that refused to disappear?
yuuji patiently watches megumi with gentle eyes.
"my... identity..." megumi sighs, eyes closing, lashes kissing his soft skin. "i’ve... i’ve always struggled with it... on and off throughout my life."
megumi gently taps his fingers against the center of yuuji’s hand before he continues speaking—before he unwraps one of the most personal aspects of himself.
"but i always managed to ignore it. i never wanted to face it. it felt like too much work to sort things out and to find out what fit, and what didn't," he further explains. "there was already so much i had to deal with, adding this to everything else felt..."
megumi lets out a sigh, one tinged with... helplessness? yuuji is a bit unsure, the remnants of drowsiness fogging up his mind a bit.
"so, i never addressed it. i just... pushed it away every time it came to mind, hoping that would be the last." yuuji frowns as he hears the slight helplessness that tinted megumi's voice, something that would only unravel during this time of night. "it never was."
yuuji listens to megumi with compassion, waiting with an insurmountable amount of patience. he can sense the frustration that megumi has been doused in, even if megumi tries to be careful to not let it reflect in his expression or tone.
"and now... i don't know,” megumi continues, and yuuji’s heart aches at how defeated he sounds. “i think...? i know what... what might feel comfortable for me, but there’s also the possibility that it won’t be.”
the sound of megumi gritting his teeth cuts through the room for a second, and yuuji continues to be patient, hoping that it is enough. the area of skin between megumi’s eyebrows crinkle with irritation as he continues. yuuji wishes he was brave enough to reach out and smooth over the stress that haunted megumi, hoping that it would serve as a remedy, even if it was only a temporary one.
“and that stresses me out so much that i feel nauseous. because then i wonder, what if it doesn't suit me like i thought it would? then… then i have to think about it again. and again. and again. the uncertainty… it…. i hate it.”
megumi turns so that he's now lying on his back, eyes fluttering close as the blanket moves along with him, now covering a part of his face.
he's beyond tired of being perceived, tired of thinking, tired of the confusion that haunts him with cruel relentlessness. he just.... wants to do what he's supposed to. he wishes that things were simpler.
a silence replaces megumi's tired, low tone. it was gentle, slow, and forgiving.
moments pass before megumi hears light shuffling disrupt the silence.
before he can turn to look, megumi feels the warmth of the cherry blossom boy. yuuji is closer now, with barely any space between them. positioned on his side, yuuji softly taps megumi's shoulder that is farther from him, and megumi shifts so that they face each other. yuuji then moves to wrap his arms around him, pulling him close with a gentleness that megumi finds himself endlessly thankful to have gotten the chance to become familiar with.
guilt weighs heavily in megumi's chest, though; he knows that yuuji is going to end up with a sore arm, but he allows himself to appreciate the gesture as he melts into the boy's soft touch. megumi’s senses were heightened at that moment; he's extremely aware of yuuji’s hand that warmed his back, as well as his other hand that gently held the back of his head.
megumi softly sighs into yuuji’s chest. he feels at ease, comforted by the love yuuji had to offer, the peace he gave him.
"i’m sorry, i don't know much about things like that, megumi," yuuji apologises, his voice quiet enough that it can only be heard between the two of them. "but... i’ll do my best to support you. i’m really sorry that you've been dealing with this all alone for so long."
megumi was silent as he steadied his breathing.
"it must have been hard for you," yuuji whispers. "you've been through a lot, megumi."
megumi doesn't respond. he closes his eyes.
megumi lets himself relax for the first time in a while—when was the last time he did that?—and lets out a slow, steady exhale. he feels the rise and fall of yuuji’s chest as he breathes, a physical reminder that he's here and alive. with him.
megumi catches hints of citrus from yuuji’s shirt, and the comfort and warmth of it soothes his aching chest. he never thought that he would find security from the zesty fragrance.
megumi is close to being whisked away by the temptation of sleep, eyelids weighing heavily with stress and drowsiness, when yuuji carefully moves his hand through his hair. the peach haired boy delicately threads his fingers between loose strands of soft midnight illuminated by the gentleness of the moon. megumi has never felt so at peace before—he has never been taken care of like this.
megumi, jujutsu sorcerer of the shadows, was not one who particularly enjoyed physical contact. he rarely—if ever—initiated it. when people like gojo sensei rested their arm on his head, or if anyone pulled him into a sudden, tight hug, he would immediately stiffen with discomfort, unable to help the displeased frown that instantly appeared on his face.
but with yuuji, megumi didn't feel the instinctive desire to push him off or slap away his hand. when yuuji placed an arm around his shoulder or took hold of megumi’s wrist, he never flinched or tried to get away. he always allowed it, always.
yuuji’s touch was similar to waking up to the sun’s rays gently filtering through the room, quietly filling up the space with incandescent light. physical touch from yuuji was something that always successfully soothed megumi's discomfort, or it would assuage feelings of guilt that caused his chest to ache and ache. megumi always yearned for yuuji's sun-warm touch, even if it meant stepping out of the security of the shadows, and into the light where he could easily be perceived.
"what were you thinking of going by, for now?" yuuji asks, his voice cutting through megumi’s thoughts; the tension in his muscles eased at the addition of ‘for now’. megumi finds himself grateful for the reassurance that he had been seeking.
megumi knows his answer—though he isn't certain if this answer is what he's fully comfortable with—and it was just at the tip of his tongue. all he has to do is open his mouth, and say it.
megumi trusts yuuji, he truly does. megumi knows that he can entrust this information with him, fully confident that yuuji would keep it safe in the home that was his hands. megumi knows that he can feel at ease if the only other person who carries this secret this is yuuji.
but for some reason, it still felt like something was clawing at the insides of his stomach, ripping apart everything that dared to exist within it. it felt like honey was slowly filling his lungs again, while his anxiety took on a physical form as it bloomed and bloomed in the rigid structure of his constricting throat. all he had to do was say one word. one single, simple word that he had grown all too familiar with.
maybe it isn't about the abundance of or lack of trust, megumi realises as he tightly grips the back of yuuji’s shirt. rather, it's the vulnerability of honesty that invokes the fear that haunts him. if megumi answers, not only does it cement this worry that has only been residing in his mind, but it also presents a luminous transparency that he's afraid of. megumi was far too used to the shadows and the ability of hiding things within them, keeping whatever was important hidden from view. he wasn’t used to the glassiness of vulnerability, of allowing someone to possibly project their judgements and thoughts onto him, if they so wished.
megumi tries to focus on the sensation of yuuji’s fingers entangled in his hair. he tries to find comfort in it, hoping it would extinguish the unwelcome anxiety that stormed his mind.
“hey, you don’t need to answer if you don’t feel comfortable, megumi,” yuuji assures him in a tone that is so gentle, so kind, that megumi feels something burning at the corners of his eyes. “i want you to know that i’ll always be here to support you and listen to you, whether you change things or not.”
there's a pause before yuuji continues.
“it’s okay if you don’t have a solid answer. you don’t need to put so much pressure on yourself to have one that’ll fit you right now. i’ve never really struggled with something like this, but i can only imagine how this kind of change can be really scary and frustrating,” yuuji says, sadness dimming his expression. “especially when you thought you had something that worked. it… it sucks that you might not have the answer right away, but… this won’t last forever. i know you’ll eventually find something that works for you, megumi. i’ll be here with you throughout the whole thing, okay?”
yuuji runs his hand through soft midnight once more before pulling back slightly. he leans down and gently presses his lips against megumi’s forehead, causing megumi to flinch a bit at the sudden action. yuuji's bright, soft laughter fills the room.
megumi’s eyes flutter shut and he allows himself to bask in the warmth of yuuji’s affection. he carefully digests the words the yuuji had spoken in his honey soft voice, feeling soft embers spark in his chest, warming the space that was once haunted by unease.
after a few more seconds, yuuji pulls away. megumi smiles as he gazes at the person he so dearly cherished.
they’d opened the curtains before they went to sleep, which meant that megumi could see the moonlight as it illuminated yuuji’s honey soft eyes that would often sparkle with curiosity. right now, his eyes were a lot more gentle, quieter than usual. megumi couldn’t help but gaze at him with an incredible fondness as the moon’s celestial rays softened his features; yuuji couldn’t see it, but he was glowing, and megumi found himself absolutely mesmerised by the sight.
megumi raises his hand, and moves to gently place it on yuuji's cheek. he then carefully leans forward, his freshly moisturised lips next to yuuji’s ear. the boy of the shadows whispers his answer, so yuuji—and only yuuji—can hear it, can know of the secret he’s kept hidden away for so long.
when megumi pulls away to return back to his source of warmth and comfort, he hears yuuji mutter a soft, ‘hmm’.
"that's good," yuuji says, voice gentle like moonlight.
a wave of relief gently washes over megumi, soothing any trace of anxiety or uncertainty that had stormed his tightly locked heart. megumi is finally relieved for once, but there is also exhaustion weighing down on his shoulders. he is tired of talking, tired of thinking. so megumi mumbles a quiet, heartfelt 'thank you', before allowing his eyes to close so that he can finally rest.