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Megumi tossed and turned in his bed, blankets tangling around his legs as his addled mind refused to let him rest. Every night images of being chained and trapped under Sukuna, losing control over his own body, would replay over and over until it left him physically ill and nauseous. Most days were like this—drowning away in his room, but on better days when he’s allowed a shred of energy to get up, to feel normal, to think freely, his mind wanders to Itadori to calm him down – the only person that’s kept him grounded since the day they’ve became friends.
Today was a bad day.
Tears streamed down from the corner of his blue eyes, dampening the pillow that lay beneath him, head feeling heavy like lead. He soundlessly wept, a behavior he developed overtime to avoid disturbing others through the thin walls of the shared dorms. He felt so weak and tired, just barely able to lift his frail and thin wrist to wipe the tears blurring his vision. He desperately wanted to pass out and sleep through the entire day. Even just drifting in and out of consciousness for a few moments would be enough to alleviate some of the fatigue, yet anxiety would bubble and boil in his chest to keep him awake, exhaustion building up with no means to an end, leaving him more steps behind from recovery while everyone else moved on without him. Megumi slid his eyes shut, breaths uneven as he tried to think about Yuji again, his friend – his best friend. The boy who always found the good in everything. The boy who has always been so selfless to help anyone that needed it. The boy whose been through so much but never complained. The boy Megumi had developed and still had feelings for, never given the chance to ask if the other ever felt the same.
Fushiguro’s heart still ached for him, begging to reach out for comfort, for care, anything to be close again after everything. After Yuji saved him, things between them haven’t been the same. The black-haired teen doesn’t even remember the last time they properly spoke or were in the same room for more than five minutes. Was Yuji doing okay? Why was Yuji avoiding him? Did he even care about Megumi anymore? Was he just too busy rebuilding his own life without him to make time for Megumi?
Were they even friends anymore?
After all the pain, suffering, and sacrifice Fushiguro caused, why would Yuji still want to be friends with him? In the end, Megumi was too weak to suppress Sukuna. To keep fighting. He had given up so easily, but he swore he tried and tried.
The thought of Yuji leaving Fushiguro behind consumed him with dread.
A quiet sob slipped past his lips. He felt selfish for being like this. For thinking so negatively of his best friend who did nothing wrong. For thinking Yuji didn’t care when he literally saved him. He just wanted Yuji to focus on him. To want Yuji to push everyone and everything aside just for him. As if Yuji also didn’t lose people he loved. As if he had no one to grieve for. As if he wasn’t carrying the burden of the destruction Megumi caused.
Megumi tried to convince himself that it was the trauma, lack of sleep and the suffocating exhaustion as the reason for his downward spiral. But the reality was that he was truly selfish.
He didn't care about anything else. He wanted Yuji. He wanted things to go back to the way things were. When it was just the two of them spending time together. When Yuji would make Fushiguro feel so warm with just a brush of a hand, or when they huddled on his twin sized bed during movie nights, or Yuji carelessly wrapping his arm around his shoulder like it was nothing despite making his heart want to leap out of his throat. He needed Yuji to feel safe again.
He repeats in his head Itadori’s faint voice growing stronger and stronger, calling for him to wake up as he lied helplessly on the ground, shaking him awake from the void.
He wished for Yuji to call for him like that again.
It was over. Sukuna was gone. He’s given a chance to live on.
So why does it feel like he still lost? Why can’t he rid the heavy pit in his stomach? Why can’t he just feel grateful and move on himself? Accept that things between him and Yuji will be different?
Overwhelmed by his own overthinking, the black-haired teen ended up falling in and out of sleep, eyes heavy like bricks. Unsure on how much time had passed, he closes his eyes again to try to catch up on sleep until he’s startled awake by a loud and obnoxious knock on his door.
“-shiguro! I know you’re still in there! Get up we’re going outside! Itadori’s waiting for us. And I’m not taking no for an answer, so you better be out in five minutes!” Nobara shouted from the other side, banging the door a few more times for good measure before the sound of her heeled boots faded away.
The tired boy groaned into his pillow; forgotten he had vaguely agreed to meeting with Nobara. It was clear he was in no condition mentally and physically to do this, but he knew if he didn’t get up now, Nobara would break the door down and drag him out against his will.
Fushiguro bit his bottom lip, a pang of worry and anxiousness stabbing him in the chest knowing that Itadori would be there. A part of him was scared to see Itadori again, but the other part that yearns for him reacted with open arms, adding onto the feelings he’s tried to bury for months.
Before he could draw blood from his lips from overthinking again, he forced himself to get out of bed, shivering at the change in temperature after being covered in blankets for days. He trudged to the bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face, avoiding his own face in the mirror as he did, still insecure and ashamed about his scars and recent low hygiene. With some struggle he managed to put his on dark blue attire, fixing his gaze on the falling snow through the window as he bundled up as much as he could with a scarf, gloves and a knitted hat to hide his unkempt hair. He walked towards the door to leave, footsteps feeling heavier upon each step, as if they were trying to root him to the ground. He hovers a shaking hand over the knob, hesitation crawling through his limbs as he finally opened the door, the idea of going outside feeling so foreign him due to isolating himself in his room for so long. He walks until he finds Nobara standing waiting for him, adjusting her eye patch.
“Ha, you actually aren’t late.” Nobara grinned as she leaned her back forward off the wall and adjusted the bag on her shoulder. She gently placed a hand on Fushiguro’s shoulder making him blink at the sudden contact and stare back at her. “It’s really good to see you.” She says softly, squeezing the other’s shoulder in comfort.
Fushiguro nods, looking away before she could see the tears threatening to gather around his eyes. He couldn’t muster the courage to reply due to the guilt gnawing at him for realizing that he had abandoned Nobara too, never reaching out to check in with her after everything. However, she seemed to have understood, giving him a light hug as a silent sign of forgiveness.
Nobara didn’t force him to talk as they walked together, with the occasional nudge to his ribs to make sure he was actually listening to what she was venting about. She spoke about Gojo and how it went with meeting her mother. He had forgotten how much he missed her, and how good it felt to listen to someone else talk rather than having to listen to his own thoughts for the last few weeks.
Their steps eventually come to a halt when they notice Itadori and someone else from a distance. Fushiguro’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion at first glance, then felt like time immediately stopped when he saw him and Ozawa standing together. Talking—with smiles on their faces. They were standing so close, too, an obvious blush on her face. They looked happy.
Fushiguro’s breathing began to quicken, becoming harder to control it as he felt an incoming panic attack. He heard Nobara saying something to him, sounding concerned, but he didn’t understand a word, like he was pushed underwater. He wanted to tear his gaze away but he couldn’t stop staring. Why was Ozawa here? What were they talking about? Have they been talking to each other in private too?
Realization hit him like a bucket of ice-cold water to the face—he had completely forgotten about Ozawas’s romantic feelings for Itadori.
Was that why she was here? Was she confessing her feelings to him? Was she Itadori’s type? He couldn’t for the life of him remember. Does Itadori find her pretty? Megumi wondered, reaching his fingers to trace the scars on his face, suddenly feeling self-conscious.
This is it, his mind devastated and torn between keeping his composure or breaking down into tears. The dread he’d been fearing of Yuji moving on stabbed him repeatedly in the heart as the final blow that he just lost everything. He lost his chance to fulfill his one dream of having a life with the boy he fell in love with—to someone who was better, kinder, and prettier than him.
Yuji was leaving him. Yuji was the only thing he had left and now he’s left with absolutely nothing. Maybe he deserved this.
The pair of brown eyes turned to meet his, leaving him momentarily stunned and unable to hide his face of anguish until his instincts kicked in and he stumbled back and ran, brain too slow to comprehend what his body was doing to try to stop himself. Voices shouted for his name, but he kept going, going, and going. Refusing to accept the truth.
Megumi heard a soft knock coming from the door, but he made no effort to get up and answer. Instead he tightened his arms around his legs closer against his chest, head resting on his knees as he stayed glued to the floor, body aching from sitting there for hours. The door slowly creaked open, momentarily shining a line of light in his dark room until the door was closed shut. Steady footsteps shuffled around to turn on a lamp with a soft click, footsteps eventually coming closer and closer until the figure stands in front of him, making him stiffen and shrink against the wall.
“Megumi,” Itadori says, and like a spell Megumi lifts his head to look at him, instinctive to his best friend’s call.
Megumi looks back down, the close proximity overwhelming him. He doesn’t know what to do nor say, so he kept silent, afraid of what was to come next.
A hand reaches to cup his face. “Gumi,” Itadori strokes his cheek with his thumb, “look at me, please?”
The nickname causes Megumi to crumble, lips wobbling as he obeys once again, his emotions worsening into overdrive before he could stop himself.
“Ozawa,” Fushiguro blurts, voice weak and thin from disuse, “Do you love her?”
Itadori stares at him in shock and Fushiguro snaps his mouth shut with immediate regret. His emotions were beyond control. He doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore, neither does he know why Itadori would want to see him in the first place after the scene he just made, but stubbornness wouldn’t let go and had to know the answer.
Itadori moves his calloused hand over to Fushiguro’s eyes, gently wiping the tears that seem to keep falling, “I know you’re confused right now,” Itadori murmurs, in a voice that sounds so loving, “We have a lot to talk about, and I’m sorry for leaving you alone the past few weeks. But right now, let me take care of you, okay? Will you let me?”
Megumi wordlessly nods at the request as he tries to process what they will have to talk about, but it flies through the window when those safe hands pull him into an embrace, helping him stand up and lead him into the bathroom. Itadori switches on the faucet and turns back around to face him while the warm water fills up the tub, reaching to carefully tug Megumi’s shirt off, hands moving down to unbutton his pants and pull his briefs along with them, letting them fall onto the floor and help him step out of them. Hands guide him into the bathtub, turning his head as he hears Itadori take off his clothes as well to join him.
Megumi tucks his chin and quickly looks somewhere else to hide the red painting his cheeks after catching himself staring at his friend’s muscled and naked body, receiving a chuckle from the other to seal the embarrassment.
Itadori who’s now sitting in front of him touches him again so gently, fingers mixed with shampoo massaging his scalp that makes his eyes flicker. Hands caress his shoulders, chest, back, and legs, smoothing them out in all the right places with the soap suds, the touches feeling so natural and intimate like they had never fallen out of step. Megumi lifts his arms to try to return the favor, but Itadori catches his wrists and firmly but gently sets them back down to rest in the water.
“You haven’t been taking care of yourself, right?” Itadori asks without judgment. “So let’s focus on you right now, so you can feel better. Don’t worry about me, just focus on yourself for now for me, okay?” The tenderness in Itadori’s voice makes Megumi docilely nod again, lump forming in the back of his throat as his heart thumps wildly at the undeserved intimacy.
Shortly after, the peach haired teen helps Megumi up and dry him with a towel, then dresses him in extra clothes he brought, the size difference of the fabric enveloping Megumi’s frame. The clothes carried Itadori’s nostalgic and comforting scent that it made him sway so sleepily, a feeling he hasn’t properly felt in weeks. The sleepiness was short lived however when he felt a tug to sit on his bed, another wave of nostalgia hitting him as he smelled Itadori’s homemade cooked food. A forkful of food was lifted to his face waiting until he opened his mouth to accept and eat it. A part of him should be embarrassed being fed like a child, but his body couldn’t care less as it hungrily accepted the delicious food, suffering weeks of his poor eating habits.
The next thing he knew he was being pulled down to lie in bed on his side, sleepy and stomach full and satisfied, then sensed a warm body joining him and covering them both with a blanket.
“I don’t love her.” Itadori replies, lifting fingers to tuck Megumi’s bangs behind his ear.
A startled noise slips out of Megumi’s mouth. “W-What?” He looks back at the other with wide, confused eyes.
“When you asked me earlier if I loved Ozawa,” Itadori pulls him closer to nuzzle the junction of his neck and shoulder, making him gasp, “I only love you. You were going through so much, I thought you needed space, but I was wrong for neglecting you. For hurting you.” Itadori whispered, pressing light, feathery kisses on Megumi’s sensitive neck.
A sob tears out of Megumi’s throat. “I love you too- so much. I-I’m sorry.” He chokes, face dampening with tears, body trembling from the confession that almost didn’t seem real.
“Please,” He whispers, clinging tightly onto Itadori. “Don’t leave me.” He begs, eyes fighting to stay open, terrified that he’ll close them and wake up to none of this being real.
Yuji pulls him closer until there was no longer a gap between them, his head placed directly over Yuji’s heart, the heartbeats lulling him to sleep like a black wave.
“I’m never letting you go.”