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Megumi sat on the ground overlooking the training area outside. There was no one else outside, just him and one of his demon dogs. Water trickled down his face, and he raised a hand to feel the rain.
But he didn’t feel anything.
With a huff, his dog pushed its head into Megumi’s leg. Absent-mindedly, he ran his hand through the soft fur.
“Fushiguro!!” Yuji’s voice rang out, breaking the silence.
Fushiguro? Oh yeah, that’s right. He’s still gone. Megumi stood up, letting muscle memory take him back inside the school for dinner. Opening his phone, he checked for new messages.
Nothing.
Thoughtless, he opened the last conversation he had with Gojo. The cheery “Gumi!!” stared back at him, standing out in a bland conversation about mission schedules.
It’s been a very long time since he’s heard that nickname.
A very long time since Gojo was sealed.
—
Megumi couldn’t remember the exact moment Gojo started referring to him that way. Actually, Megumi had been granted a lot of different nicknames. This list includes, but isn’t limited to: ‘Gumi, Megumi-Chan, “my emo kid” (his contact name in Gojo’s phone), brat…
Megumi had really hated it. The way Gojo’s obnoxious jokes and teasing culminated in those aggravating names. It seemed like the only logical conclusion, that Gojo nicknamed him to make fun of him.
Sitting alone in his bedroom, Megumi opened his voicemail, tapping one randomly.
“‘Gumi! I can’t wait to be back! I’ve missed you guys a-“
Megumi stopped the recording. Something had changed. He could only hear raw affection in that stupid nickname. Misery clawed its way up his chest, burrowing into his throat.
He swallowed it back down.
—
Megumi found that in the months that Gojo had been sealed, that something was very wrong. It had taken him a while to place exactly what it was. After all, he should’ve been happy he finally got some peace and quiet-
Wait.
That was it. Jolting up from where he lay in bed, Megumi glanced around his room.
It was too quiet.
It had never been quiet when Gojo was here.
The absence of noise only seemed to grow more palpable as Megumi noticed it. He let out a sigh. It was stupid to long to hear one of those jokes, a nickname airily said even though Megumi protested. At least, that’s what he told himself.
Laying back down, exhausted and depressed, Megumi pulled the sweatshirt he was holding back into his arms. It was one of Gojo’s favorites, the worn fabric soft and warm against his skin.
It no longer smelled like him.
—
Megumi felt trapped. Foolish, as Gojo was the one sealed into that box.
Even in loud spaces, that certain brand of silence echoed, permeating the room. Megumi had started to get used to it. Longing for the father he’d never fully understood, Megumi embraced the silence. He wrapped that feeling of loss tight in his arms, letting the pain settle in. Maybe, if he got used to it, it would fade.
It did not.
Megumi ran his finger over the marks in his desk, seated in the classroom. Gojo’s classroom.
No one else was here. This was Megumi’s usual time to meet with his teacher, to ask him to explain the math homework he didn’t understand.
Stupid. What reason is there to miss math homework??
Megumi drank in the silence. Gojo talked a lot, this silence wasn’t right. It was wrong, so unbearably wrong.
Megumi opened his voicemail again.
Gojo’s voice, made tinny from the recording, cheerfully rang out. Shattering the silence, Gojo exclaimed, “Kiddo! I’m just calling to let you know I’ve picked you souvenirs again! I think you’re really going to like them this time!! See, I remembered your taste in sweets again. I even brought something back for Tsumiki!
“I wish I could come back sooner but I still have a few days left. When I get back I should really talk to you about answering the phone, ha. Anyways I’ll see you soon enough, kiddo! I love you, my so- precious student!”
Gojo sounded so tired. He always made a point to call Megumi as much as he could on missions, to let them know he was okay. Megumi never realized how tiring that must’ve been.
But wait-
Gojo had slipped up at the end. Megumi replayed the recording and heard it again.
He wished Gojo was bold enough to have claimed confidently that Megumi was his son.
-
Months of silence had passed, until they finally freed Gojo. Megumi stood back, afraid at what they would find, as Yuji carried the unconscious body of their teacher out.
Gojo stayed unconscious for a while after that.
It felt like years. Megumi sat at his bedside, flopped into one of the uncomfortable hospital chairs Shoko had. He felt like screaming. Here Gojo was, lying right in front of him. But it was wrong. Gojo almost seemed dead. He usually mumbled in his sleep, tossing and turning. Gojo was always talking. Always.
And now, Gojo was completely silent.
Megumi turned away from his dad, and curled up in his chair. Before he knew it, he fell asleep to the eerie silence.
-
“Hey, kiddo”
?
???
Megumi opened his eyes. Gojo was looking right back at him.
“Gumi.”
Megumi felt his eyes well up with tears. Oh, how he missed that sound.
“Earth to Megumi…”
Maybe he would be okay.