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Megumi was certain he was losing his mind. The thought had passed his mind occasionally, he wasn’t a stranger to cursing the world, his father and every so often Gojo and almost losing himself to anger behind closed doors. But, no matter what, he would always get back on his feet, shake away the thoughts that loved to plague his mind, and continue like nothing had ever happened. He was kind of an expert in that by now.
But he couldn’t shake away what he saw every day.
Although he had broken all of the mirrors in the room, the scars on his hands a reminder of that, he could still see it in the reflections. Windows, rain puddles, mobile phone screen when it was turned off, Gojo-sensei’s glasses when he wore them…it almost felt as if it was mocking him, as if the world was laughing at him and his scar like it was the funniest joke ever.
Megumi sure as hell wasn’t laughing.
As an aftermath of his battle against Sukuna outside of the detention center, Megumi was gifted with a scar, one very cleverly placed by the universe, on his face. Sure, he wasn’t a stranger to scars nor pain that comes with them (whether it was physical or emotional), but he never had one like this.
Fuck, he looked like his father.
Although Megumi couldn’t remember him well, being only just a kid when he died, he could remember his scar, the one on his face. It ran through the corner of the right side of his lips, and it was almost as thick as it was long.
Now Megumi had one just like that.
And it wasn’t that Megumi hated his father, it was just that…he wasn’t overly fond of the guy. He didn’t even know the guy, but the memory of him leaving for the last time was still bitter in Megumi’s mouth.
And Megumi wasn’t a fool, he could feel Gojo-sensei’s gaze on him, the one that didn’t reveal much about what he was thinking about, but Megumi could guess.
And he couldn’t exactly say Gojo-sensei was avoiding him, but ever since the accident he started spending a lot of time somewhere else, claiming he had some crucial business he had to take care of, so Megumi was left alone with Nobara and the upperclassmen most of the time. Which wasn’t necessarily bad, but Megumi couldn’t ignore the feeling of dread in his stomach.
A part of him was glad Sukuna was gone. It almost made living with the scar a bit easier.
Almost.
Which is perhaps why after Yuji came back and revealed he was still alive, Megumi felt relief as much as he felt dread.
Yuji was alive. Yuji was alive.
And so was Sukuna.
Fuck, why did it have to be him?
Why did his biggest nightmare had to be trapped inside of his greatest dream?
He was glad Sukuna was dead. He was glad Yuji was dead, because it meant he wouldn’t have to deal with the shit this world had to offer. He wouldn’t have to watch him lose that beautiful light in his eyes throughout the years, he could fool himself that Yuji died happy.
And now he had to watch him die again.
Or soon enough, that is.
Still somehow, after the initial shock, Megumi felt more relieved that dreadful, although he would never admit it out loud.
Since that day, the day he got Yuji (and Sukuna) back, Megumi swore he would try to keep the light inside of Yuji’s eyes for as long as he could. Even if it meant him losing his life over it.
As time passed by them, shit happened, as it usually does. But, surprisingly enough, Megumi and Yuji were still alive.
Ever since Yuji came back from the dead, Megumi felt as if he was lying down on the line between madness and sanity. One day Yuji’s hand would linger on his for a bit longer, then they would watch an innocent lose their life. Another day, Yuji’s arms would stay a bit longer around his shoulders than usual, then he almost lost his life fighting against a curse that was in possession of Sukuna’s finger.
Next day Yuji’s lips had finally touched his, and then almost everyone he had ever loved disappeared.
It was like the world was testing him again, trying to see just how much he could handle. How much pain and suffering it can throw his way, that could be erased by a simple pointed look from Yuji.
Most of the time, Megumi was sure he had lost it, and Yuji was the only think keeping him there. His only last life thread, his sanity thread. His sun and his light.
And Yuji was still the loving student he remembered. When the nights got colder and the days darker, he could see Yuji’s unfocused gaze, his thoughts floating away. He did his best to keep Yuji there with him. They both made sure the other one was okay.
But he could see the darkness growing inside of him. Something was there that made the pink-haired boy a little bit more reckless and impulsive than he usually was. A little bit more cold-hearted and filled with ice, especially when Megumi was in danger.
And Yuji knew something was off with Megumi.
He could see it in Megumi’s eyes when he stared into them. Mostly they were soft and comfortable, especially when it was just the two of them, and he could lower his guard.
But he knew of Megumi’s issue with mirrors. He saw all of them in shatters, and his heart clenched uncomfortably whenever he saw Megumi’s face when he was looking at himself in the window’s reflection, no matter how hard he tried not to.
Yet, he never tried to explain it, and Yuji didn’t prod.
But one evening, he couldn’t help himself.
Megumi knew it in his bones that it was coming, the question he had always dreaded, the conversation he tried to postpone for so long.
But after he shattered another mirror in a fit of rage from looking at himself (and seeing him), he could feel Yuji’s questioning gaze on him. So, he decided not to fight it this time, and open himself for the older boy as he did so many times before.
“Every time I look at it, it makes me sick. The thought of him makes me sick,” Megumi said, his voice unsteady and weak, but loud enough for Yuji to hear him.
They were on the bathroom floor, in some random apartment they decided to crash the night in. The glass pieces from the shattered mirror were around them, neither of them bothering to pick them up. Yuji was bandaging the open wound on his hand, one he got from punching the mirror, and he could see the scars from the previous time he had done the same thing.
Yuji didn’t seem to mind, though. He just wrapped the bandage around his hand with such care and softness that it made Megumi want to cry.
What did he ever do to deserve such a being as Itadori Yuji?
Yuji didn’t answer him right away, instead he finished taking care of Megumi’s wound. He was clearly thinking about something, but Megumi could never tell what he was thinking. The boy was too unpredictable, for better or for worse.
Megumi didn’t know whether Yuji knew he was talking about his father, and not about Sukuna, but he wasn’t sure if it even mattered. They never talked a lot about either if they could help it.
“Does the thought of me make you sick?”
Yuji’s voice startled him at first. It had a weird edge to it, one that Megumi knew a bit too well, but the question still perplexed him.
‘’W-What?”
“When you think of me, do you feel sick?”
Yuji repeated his question, but Megumi’s confusion did not go away. His eyebrows were furrowed, but Yuji seemed determined to get an answer, so Megumi answered honestly.
“Of course not, Yuji,” he grabbed his face, trying to pour his emotions into his words, so that the other could understand how much he meant to him, and that it was never anything about him that made him uncomfortable, “you’re the only person who makes me feel okay, who makes me feel safe and comfortable and understood.’’
Megumi felt weird saying that, as he was never the type to show his emotions, much less pour them out, but he just felt so vulnerable at the moment, like an open nerve, that he felt the need to reassure Yuji more that keep his pride.
“Good!”, was Yuji’s only answer, and he smiled as he said it.
Megumi smiled back at him, caressing Yuji’s face with his intact hand. His wounded hand was still in Yuji’s lap, it was held by both of Yuji’s hands.
Yuji leaned in, both hands releasing Megumi’s hand from their grasp, and as one of them went to grab Megumi’s face, their lips connected. Megumi felt as if he was on fire, and Yuji’s lips where the only relief he would get from it. He needed him more than breathing.
“Please forgive me for this, but I have to do it.”
Before Megumi could think about what Yuji had said, eyes still closed, he felt a sharp pain on the right side of his face. It ran above and under his lips, right where the scar that hunted him so was.
He opened his eyes in surprise and bewilderment, and saw Yuji’s other hand holding a piece of glass from the mirror that he had broken not ten minutes before. It was red, his blood was still dripping from it onto his arm that was in Yuji’s lap.
He looked into Yuji’s eyes, still too shocked to do anything, but he didn’t find contempt or deception in them, as you usually would in someone’s who had just hurt someone.
He only found them to be soft. So impossibly soft Megumi was feeling like crying again. He could stay there kneeling on the cold tiles for all of eternity, he would let Yuji do whatever he wanted to him, hurt him as much as he wanted to, if it meant he could keep staring into his eyes.
‘’There! Now, every time you look in the mirror, you’ll think of me instead of him!”
He explained it like it was the simplest thing in the world. And Megumi found that he couldn’t care less.
He pulled Yuji’s face towards him, and locked their mouths for the second time. He could feel the wound stinging as he kissed him, but he couldn’t care less. He could taste his blood pooling in his and Yuji’s mouths, but he couldn’t care less. He just needed Yuji, Yuji, Yuji, and he knew he would be alright.
Yuji smiled into the kiss, and began to lick the blood away from Megumi’s face. He licked it away from his cheeks, his lips, his neck, before he gently grasped Megumi’s hand that was touching his own face, and licked the blood that fell onto it away.
Megumi couldn’t think straight, and he didn’t think he wanted to.
Their lips met again and their kissed with vigor and passion, they grabbed at each other’s hair, arms, waists, like their would never feel the other one again.
He pulled at Yuji’s pink locks so hard, the other one moaned, loudly, and Megumi was sure his soul was going to leave his body. He found himself on his back, Yuji sitting on his hips, grinding down on him, and Megumi knew he could die there and he would die a happy man.
Happy, huh. What a twisted happiness it was.
Yuji was still kissing him, now more softly than he had before, and a new kind of energy was born. Before, it was an urgent, feral need to feel the other. But now…
Now, it felt like a need to truly feel another. To blend into one being, never to be torn apart. Two hearts beating as one, two bodies forged into one, and done so in a way that nobody could ever tear them apart again.
Somehow, Megumi felt whole again. Like there was a piece missing, stolen from him all those year ago, and Yuji had given it back to him that night.
If I finally feel all of this just by spilling a little bit of my blood, Megumi thought, then I’m fine with spilling it all, no matter how it ends, as long as he’s there with me.