"I spend way too much time in here," Megumi sighs, head dropped against the wall as the familiar clicking of Shoko's heels against the tiled floor sound around the room. He's moved from his spot beside Yuuji because the sight of his boyfriend lying unconscious in the Jujutsu Tech infirmary was making his stomach turn. Even if Yuuji was drooling like normal, like nothing was wrong, eyes fluttering under his eyelids even as he sleeps.
"Piss off then," Shoko mutters around a lollypop stick. He figures she probably stole it from Kusakabe. They both definitely spend too much time in here. It's painfully obvious from their complexions, especially when they're stood next to people like Gojo (somehow manages to use his Technique to tan better apparently), Nobara (spends too much of her money on fake tanning lotion) or Maki (can constantly be found outside on the training fields.)
"Nah," he shrugs, anxiously tapping his fingers along the arm of the chair he's flopped himself in.
"Why not?" Shoko demands coming to stand over him, so he's forced to meet her eyes. "Itadori-kun's fine. I already told you. He'll wake up in a couple of hours right as rain. Well, probably with a bit of psychological trauma but that was inevitable." Only because Megumi won't leave him alone. Only because Megumi might be ruining Yuuji's life.
"And you're fine," she continues on, stick moving from one corner of her lips to the other. "Apart from all of your usual psychological trauma. So, why're you hanging out here? In the morgue?"
"Maybe I just like hanging out with you," he shoots back defensively. Shoko snorts with fond amusement, but lowers a disbelieving look in his direction as she hops up onto one of the medical, metallic counters, crossing her legs and waiting patiently for his response.
"Everything's crazy upstairs," he sighs. "Never seen the place so fucking busy before. I just don't want…I can't be bothered with their questions." Everyone else seemed to be getting a kick out of this whole thing.
Nobara was running around campus taking pictures of all of the sorcerers, deciding she wanted to make a tier-list on who was the most fuckable. Considering she didn't know any of them personally, she hadn't understood why he'd been so repulsed when she offered to let him join. Repulsion that had very quickly turned to irritation when he'd pointed to his unconscious boyfriend, blood still slowly dripping from a wound on his forehead as they waited for Shoko to appear. "You're such a drama queen," Nobara had just rolled her eyes before skipping off, camera in tow. "Ita-chan will be fine."
Maki also seemed to be enjoying it too, in a weird way – if it was even physically possible to be weirder than Nobara. She stood at the entrance as all the sorcerers filed in, smugness crawling across her face with every one that had to pass right by her. Most of them ignored her, just as they ignored all of the pupils, stood in their ruined uniforms because some dickhead had tried to get funny with it. "I wish Yuta had been here," Maki had sighed when it looked like everyone had arrived, and it was just the two of them left outside. "He would've genuinely ripped Naoya a second asshole."
"Yeah," Megumi nodded, a small huff of laughter escaping him. If Yuta had been able to kill Gojo's crazy ex, he would've been able to squish Zenin Naoya like a bug. "I wish he was dead," Megumi admitted, slumping against the wall, because Shoko hadn't let him follow her and Gojo into the morgue, and so he was stuck waiting around like a useless lump.
"Yeah," Maki hummed. "Me too. I wish they all were."
Even Panda and Inumaki had seemed excited by the whole ordeal, watching on through the window, as they no doubt live texted their missing classmate the entire time. Megumi thinks he's the only one who just feels slightly sick.
Shoko hums in agreement with him, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. He's struck with the image of a younger Shoko, sat with her legs in a basket on the rug in Tsumiki's bedroom, letting the eight-year-old girl run a brush through her then shorter hair over and over again. "It's like an insanely fucked up family reunion, right?" she chuckles, her smoker's laugh warming the room.
"Yeah," he agrees, finding himself grinning despite everything. "Too bad half the family's clinically insane. And the other half's dead already."
"True," she nods, because while Gojo and Nanami refuse to acknowledge their dead friends, or even their dead adversaries, Shoko's never shied away from the truth of the matter. Really, it's because of her Megumi learned what Jujutsu sorcery was truly like, before he was forced to find out for himself first hand by the Zenins. Gojo was in favour of completely ignoring everything that made him even slightly uncomfortable, while Nanami's body went as stiff as a corpse anytime a ghost from the past was mentioned.
If Shoko wasn't around, Megumi wouldn't have known any of the names Nanami and Gojo prefer to keep on gravestones. Never would've known who Haibara Yu was. Or Geto Suguru. Or Amanai Riko.
And not just their names. But who they were. Shoko's always spoken of dead sorcerers like they were real people once, who had laughed and danced and lived. She smiles, compared to Gojo and Nanami's tightly sewn lips. She speaks about how Geto had been before he defected, peppering in little comments about how Geto would've been better at helping Megumi with his homework that either her or Gojo. Speaks about how she hadn't met Amanai, but that she could tell she would've been great at plaiting Tsumiki's hair. Speaks about the way Haibara used to drop off cans of soda on everyone's desks on especially hot days whenever she finds herself tapping the brim of a Coke.
She doesn't recite soliloquies about her lost friends or bury them selfishly in her heart. She mentions them in passing, has done all of Megumi's life, as if they're people he will eventually meet one day. He hopes that one day, when it's his turn to lie in Shoko's morgue, that she'll talk about him that way too.
"Haibara would've loved this," she smirks down to herself, words slipping around the lollipop stick. "He always absolutely loved big gatherings like this. Even though everyone's only ever in the one place because some bullshit's going down. Like Gojo blowing up the entire Jujutsu society hierarchy once again," she sighs fondly, tucking her hair behind her ear.
"Yeah, well, I hate it," he frowns, working his bottom lip through his teeth. "I'll just stay here till Yuuji wakes up."
"Fair enough kid," Shoko shrugs, gracefully slipping down from her seat to peer over Yuuji. "You can hide down here with me until all those creepy assholes fuck off."
"Hey!" The addition of a new voice makes Megumi jolt out of his seat onto his feet, hands instinctively clapping together. He eases off when he blinks to see Ino stood in the threshold, mask perched on his head like normal, along with his usual toothy smile. "We're not all creepy assholes. Some of us are very strong, very helpful, very handsome sorcerers. Miss Ieiri," he nods in Shoko's direction, smile quickly turning into a wolfish grin.
Shoko just cringes, rolling her eyes. "Well, Ino-kun," she says, drawling out the childish address. "When you ever meet a sorcerer like that pass their number along to me. Because so far, I've had no luck with any of them."
Megumi watches on in disgust, as Ino clearly completely bypasses the smooth rejection, face lighting up just by hearing Shoko say his name. He wishes he was as oblivious as Ino sometimes. Maybe a lot of the time. Wishes he could flirt with people almost a decade his senior that easily. Wishes he could beg for missions without feeling pathetic. Wishes he could be as upfront and as earnest as Ino seems to be. He's pretty sure he's heard Ino tell Nanami that he loves him tenfold the times he's told Gojo.
"Get a grip, Takuma-kun," another voice follows, Nanami quickly elbowing Ino out of the doorway to the morgue to storm in himself. "I thought you'd be here," he says to Megumi with a sigh. "This concerns you; you know? These discussions would be more effective with you present."
"Please," Shoko snorts. "You're crazy if you think Megumi would do anything but bring the conversation to a complete standstill. He's just as stubborn as Gojo when it comes to people they very much want to kill. And they both very much want Naoya dead." She exaggerates that last sentence by pulling the lollipop stick out of her mouth and pointing it in Megumi's direction. He just watches as Ino watches on with parted lips and widened eyes. Repulsive.
Tengen, he hopes he wasn't this pathetic about Yuuji. But even then, at least he somehow had a chance with Yuuji.
"She's not wrong," Megumi shrugs, flopping back down on his seat with a careless shrug. "And he would've been dead if you hadn't shown up and stopped Gojo, Nanamin. He's never gonna get over that, by the way."
"Megumi-kun, killing Naoya will not result in anything meaningful."
"Would result in my immense happiness, actually," Megumi corrects, because he is genuinely convinced he would feel a lot better about everything if that guy was strung up by his neck. "He's an asshole that is trying to assassinate me. He's been trying to assassinate me for four years now. I am never going to know peace until one of us is dead."
"Yes," Nanami nods solemnly. "He is an asshole. Unfortunately, Jujutsu society is an oligarchy, and Naoya is the heir of the Zenin clan." Megumi scoffs in disbelief (because hold up, he's pretty sure he's somehow the true heir still) but before he can interrupt, Nanami is continuing on, crouching down in front of him so they're eye level.
"Megumi-kun, listen to me," he says softly, tugging his glasses from his face and folding them neatly into his blazer pocket. "Jujutsu sorcerers are not murderers. We are not heroes either, by any measure. But we are notmurderers. We do not kill without meaning." Megumi frowns, feeling like Nanami's words fall on his shoulders. He notices as Shoko curls in on herself slightly, arms hugging her sides as she blinks sadly out of the window.
As he looks back to Nanami, he wonders which dead and buried sorcerer bestowed this wisdom upon them. It's irritating, how sorcerers tend to only listen to advice once the person who gave it takes their last breath.
"Zenin Naoya's death would not have meaning," Nanami says carefully. Megumi doesn't ask who spouted this bullshit, deciding to just give his seniors what they want before he nods his head. He has bigger things to worry about, and frankly, doesn't have the time to be getting into emotional conversations with emotionally repressed sorcerers. Besides, there's not enough time in the world to talk about all their dead comrades. So Megumi just smiles politely and blinks before he says, "Alright. I won't advocate for his execution. But I am not going into that meeting."
"Well, I can't force you to do anything you don't want to, I suppose," Nanami sighs, before straightening up to his full height. "But you can't stay here." Cue him trying to force Megumi into doing something he doesn't want to.
"Teenagers shouldn't be spending all their time in a morgue," Ino cuts in, lips curling as he pokes at the jars of fermented shit Shoko keeps for experimenting or something. "Even with a lady as mesmerising as yourself," he adds in quickly, trainers skidding across the tiles as he slides closer to Shoko.
"Don't call me a lady," she crinkles her nose, but Megumi doesn't miss the small smile peeling at her face. One of the softer smiles that she never even realises she's wearing. It makes her look years younger, as if she's a student herself, one arm tucked under the other as she looks down at her own feet, digging her heels into the cracks in the tiles. Marble teeth, painted from years of smoking, with small gaps, revealed by the fleeting smile. Dimples creasing in her cheeks, rounding out her sharp face and high cheekbones. "Makes me feel older than I am," she finishes, sparing a sidewards glance in Ino's direction.
"How do you think he makes me feel?" Nanami cuts in with a sigh. "And I'm younger than you."
"Not in any way that matters," Shoko rolls her eyes. "You were always an old soul, Ken-san." The soft smile sharpens quickly, so quickly you can almost hear the flick of metal in it as she grins wildly up at Nanami. There's rarely any softness visible for Nanami and Gojo, not from Shoko's smiles. You have to look for it elsewhere. Have to look for it in everything she doesn't do. Everything she doesn't say.
"Whatever," Nanami scowls. "Just because I wasn't a moron like the rest of you were doesn't mean I was an old soul. I just didn't run head straight into countless reckless, stupid and dangerous situations."
"We had to," Shoko shrugs. "Who else was gonna if we didn't?"
"That is-" Nanami cuts himself off with a heavy sigh. "Very sound logic, Shoko," he says sardonically. "You," he adds, snapping his fingers in Megumi's direction. "Up. You're coming with me."
"I already told you that I-"
"Not to the meeting," Nanami sighs. "You need to write up a report on the incident." Lovely. So that's what they've decided to call this entire situation. With Zenin kidnapping a sixteen-year-old civilian and practically beating him half to death while also promising something Yuuji's life, in exchange for helping him take Megumi's. The incident.
"Why do I have to do that?"
"Megumi-kun. Neither you nor I have the patience for this charming little back and forth. Please, keep this for Gojo. Just come with me and write the damn report." Begrudgingly, because Nanami looks even more tired than normal, Megumi pushes himself up and out of his seat.
"Fine," he shrugs, to which Nanami nods in relief, before gesturing over his shoulder for Megumi to follow after him. "Do not experiment on my boyfriend," he tells Shoko, because he can already see the way she's seizing him up, dark eyes raking up and down his entire body with the intrigue of a problem child burning ants.
"What if he lets me?" she shrugs, fingers tapping along her jaw.
"You can experiment on me," Ino offers up, before Nanami grabs at his collar to practically haul him out of the infirmary. "If you want. I totally don't mind. You can do whatever you want to me," he keeps talking on anyway, even as his feet drag along the floor.
"No experimenting at all," Megumi clarifies as he follows after them, hesitating in the doorway. "Even if you ask and he says yes. He's too nice to say no."
"Mhh," Shoko hums thoughtfully, frowning down at Yuuji. It's almost painful, how peaceful he looks. Like he's lying in his own bed, blue sheets stained with spilt Red Bull and biscuit crumbs. Like Megumi could lie down next to him, two arms thrown over him too tight to be comfortable, but just tight enough to remind Megumi that he's lying in a bed with a boy he might really, genuinely be in love with.
But he's not in his bed. He's in the morgue, body healed artificially through Cursed Energy, because Megumi cursed him the moment he sat down on that fucking bench. Because Megumi tried to really, genuinely fall in love with someone he shouldn't have fallen in love with.
"He seems too nice for all of this," she says quietly, glancing up from her eyelashes to gaze over Megumi.
"Too nice for me, you mean." He tries to laugh. It comes out all fucked. Just like most things he does.
"I don't know," she shrugs slowly, shoulders staying risen as she tucks her arms under each other, sleeves stained with blood swaying with the movement. "Maybe. Maybe not. I've seen a lot of nice boys fall in love with sorcerers like you."
"Yeah?" Megumi asks, even though he's not really asking. They both know who she's talking about. Who she's always talking about really. The two boys who seem to haunt her lives, despite one managing to survive long enough to grow up into a living, breathing man. "What happened?"
She laughs, but it also comes out all fucked. "Didn't end up as nice as they started out. None of them."
"I guess not," he nods, only then made aware that Nanami is stood behind him because of the soft sound the man makes. Like a bullet has been punched through his gut.
"Just because it happened to them doesn't mean it'll happen to you," Shoko says, and this comes out stronger than anything else she's said today. Like this is the thing that she's truly convinced of. Like she genuinely believes it. Megumi isn't so convinced.
"Maybe. Maybe not" he shrugs, eyes trained on Yuuji. "Whatever," he corrects himself, irritated at everything all of a sudden. Irritated at the weirdly hot cool in this room and irritated at the two adults (and the one man-child) who are looking at him like he's twelve again. Irritated at the lack of windows, and the fact that Yuuji is lying in this room with no sunlight. Irritated at the fact that somehow, just because he was born the abandoned son to a complete cunt of a father, his entire life has now been written out for him.
"Just because they didn't make it doesn't mean me and Yuuji won't," he says decisively. "I'm not gonna let what happened to them happen to us. Happen to me." Because even if him and Yuuji don't work, it will not be because of Jujutsu. It will be because Yuuji wants to study abroad, and Megumi doesn't. It will be because one of them cheats, or can't get it up or can't communicate effectively. Maybe one of them will start a gambling addiction, and the other will have issues with jealousy or doesn't want kids and the other does. But Megumi refuses to let Jujutsu dictate his life any more than it already has.
And with that he turns on his heels, unable to bear it for much longer. Because it's the end of Summer now, and he has had the best time of his life these past few months, and he refuses to let that die along with the season.
He has spent his entire being in an eternal Winter. Saturated and withered and waned. Desperate for the daylight, and he hadn't even realised it. Not until he met Yuuji. Not until Yuuji showed him that there's more to life than feeling like that. Not until he realised that he doesn't have to spend his life fighting a war he doesn't care about. He feels betrayed by himself, his own heart signing him up for an endless battle as soon as it took its first beat.
Bloodshed that he could leave if he wanted to. Bloodshed that he does want to leave. He just hadn't realised how big everything could be before he met Yuuji. How big and bright and brilliant his life could be, if he did leave. If he chose something else other than this cyclical path of loneliness, ash trailing every step he takes.
He just doesn't know if he's strong enough to do it. To choose the prettiest smile he's ever seen over everything he's ever known. To choose the sun over the shadows that bleed through his own veins. But he thinks he might be brave enough to try. Thinks he'd give up everything if it meant he could keep Yuuji for as long as possible, terrified at the prospect of him slipping through his fingers just like the Summer. Knows he'd leave all of this behind, if it meant he could get a shot.
And you know what? Fuck this. Fuck all of this, he thinks to himself, staring down at calloused hands, slivers of scars sliced into him. Why the hell is he even doing all of this, when all he wants to do is…fuck he doesn't even know what he wants, because everything he's ever known has been so incredibly irritating and borderline soul-crushing and definitely life-ruining. And when did he ask for all of that?
He just wants to hang out. Like genuinely hang out. Kick back or whatever the fuck. He wants to be able to wear normal clothes. Preferably Yuuji's clothes, because he likes how they smell like coffee and sweat. He wants to be able to skateboard and worry about skinning his knees, or biting his tongue off. Not worry about curses and insane clan leaders trying to mutilate him. He doesn't want to have to worry about clans at all, because it's the 21st century and it's fucking stupid. He wants to dye Yuuji's hair and help him with quadratic equations and graduate at the same time. He wants everything he used to try and desperately tell himself was stupid, because he knew he'd never get it.
Fuck that though. He's the Ten Shadows. He'll take whatever he wants. Who's gonna stop him?
"Oh, what the hell," he chuckles breathlessly to himself as he starts running down the corridor, ignoring Ino calling after him about the report he has to write – somehow, Nanami's silence is louder. But he still strides, practically sprints, away from it all the same.
As soon as he turns the corner, he can hear the meeting taking place. First, he hears Yaga's voice – calm, steady and unwavering, as always. Then comes an unfamiliar voice that no doubtedly belongs to one of the Higher Ups, if the ridiculously formal speaking is indicative of anything. Followed by an interruption from Gakuganji, who is then interrupted by Gojo. His voice is louder than everyone else's, even though it doesn't have to be. It shouldn't be. It's normally not.
Gojos don't have to raise their volume to be better heard – to do so would be a weakness, a surrender of their power and status and prominence. Kings do not bend their knees.
Gojos do not raise their voices. Gojo Satoru certainly does not raise his voice. The Six Eyes is practically a bestowment of Godhood, and Gods do not match the temperament of their subjects. But here Gojo is, yelling and snapping at Gakuganji so loudly that Megumi winces from out here in the corridor.
"Why the fuck are you even here?" Gojo fumes. "You dick around with your whole Jimi Hendrix routine and think that means any of us are going to listen to a word you have to say, you geriatric prick?"
"Satoru-san, there is no need for profanities if we are going to-"
"Stay out of it, Yaga."
"We are trying to reach an agree-" The Higher Up tries to cuts in, only to be met with an irritated sigh that Gojo normally saves for cheating assholes on Valorant. "I'll tell you the agreement we're going to reach," Gojo laughs, a cruel thing. "This asshole is going to renounce my son as his heir, or I'm going to kill his son in retaliation. Woah, look at that! I just solved this whole thing. Now that wasn't so hard, was it?"
There's a pause, and Megumi realises he's been holding his breath.
"Go ahead." At the sound of Naobito's voice, his spine instinctively straightens up, head snapping towards the door. "Megumi-kun is a lot more valuable than Naoya is, or ever will be. The current contract continues to be valid, and holds until the provisions apply."
"The contract turned void as soon as your fuckass cunt of a son tried to kill Megumi!" Gojo outright roars.
"Language, Gojo-san." He hears someone try to add, but Gojo and Naobito continue to push on. "No, it didn't," Naobito sighs, like this is all very tiresome for him. "But don't worry, I'll punish Naoya accordingly."
"I want him dead," Gojo spits.
"Well, you should've killed him when you had the chance then. Now, there isn't much you can do about it, I'm afraid."
"You think you could stop me?"
"No," Naobito laughs, and Megumi can't tell if he's drunk from alcohol or from having Gojo Satoru's neck in his maw. "But I don't think you'll wage a war for the boy."
And now it's Gojo's turn to laugh. Slightly manic, very low, like a death knell. "Of course I'd wage a war for him. I would do anything for Megumi. He…he is my own, and I love him. I would raze this entire city to the ground for him. I would haul the heavens down to the soil for him."
"Yes well, we all know where Gojo Satoru's love gets you. Don't we, folks?" Naobito's voice rings out, and somehow, Megumi can pinpoint the exact moment Gojo's heart cracks in his chest, the same needling feeling nestled between his very own ribcage.
"Stop," Gojo warns, voice quiet.
Naobito pays no attention, as Zenins normally do. "Enough with the dramatics, Gojo-kun. You loved Geto Suguru, didn't you? But did you start a war amongst sorcerers for him? Did you take to arms for him?" Naobito scoffs, and Megumi's hands come up to twist in his own shirt.
"No. Of course, you didn't. The love of a Gojo does not save. It ruins. It destroys, it wrecks, and it annihilates. It does not save. And it is not enough to go to war for. Even if it is a war you know you would win. So do not talk about razing this city as if you would even tear down a brick of this building for Megumi-kun.
You are no Sukuna, Gojo-kun. You might be the Strongest, but you are not strong enough for the things you speak of. Not for the things you want."
No one speaks. Bile rises in Megumi's throat.
"Let's just hope this boy doesn't end up like the last one."
Silence, until the sound of a chair scraping across the floor screeches around what feels like the entire world. And then it feels like the entire world holds their breath along with Megumi as he waits for Zenin Naobito's blood to splatter. But it never comes. Instead, the door is torn off of its hingers, a burning ball of blue Energy careening through the wall. And Gojo steps through easily, jaw unclenching when he tilts his head down at Megumi, stood in the hall like a lost child.
An alleyway, and suddenly Megumi is six years old again, clutching his backpack straps as an eighteen-year-old deity towering over him.
"Hey," Gojo says, voice calmer than it was before, but no less tense. He sounds like he might throw up. "How're you feeling?"
"Fine," Megumi nods, brows furrowing in confusion. "Gojo, did-"
"How's Yuuji-kun?"
"Fine. But what is-"
"I need some air," is all Gojo says before he's stalking away, long legs quickly carrying him down the hall. Megumi pauses for a moment, turning to glance into the conference room through the massive hole that Gojo blasted through the wall. He blinks when he comes eye to eye with what appears to be half of Jujutsu society all crammed into the room. He only manages to make out Yaga, who gives a miniscule nod of his head in the direction Gojo went, before he's scampering after the insanely pissed off, totally irrational, idiot of a God who's in charge of looking after him.
He follows along the trail of Gojo's Energy, sizzling through the late Summer air like a campfire that's tumbled out of control, scorching the grass hungrily. Normally Gojo's an expert at concealing his residuals of Energy so no one can track him down. Like Infinity, Gojo just seems to keep it running, rotting his brain by keeping his Technique switched on constantly. Apparently, his Reverse Cursed Technique offsets it, if he keeps that washing over his body and mind at all times too, but Megumi doesn't buy that. Thinks Gojo's actions speak for themselves. Definitely a brain-rotted, manic individual.
He finds Gojo in the gymnasium, sitting under the basket with his knees crossed, ball lying in his lap. Hesitating in the threshold, Megumi blinks down at the luminated floorboards with a grimace. "Think I've had enough of gyms for a lifetime now," he shudders, as he starts towards Gojo. He follows the white lines of the basketball court like he used to do as a kid, one foot in front of the other like he's walking along a tightrope.
"Nanami should've let me kill him." Gojo's voice is fraying, and Megumi's foot slips, squeaking along the floor. He straightens himself up before looking over at the older man, who's sat twirling a basketball alone in the gym like he's a third year skipping class. He doesn't really look like the Strongest. Doesn't really look strong at all.
"Yeah," Megumi shrugs as he walks over. "He should've."
"He's always doing shit like that. Used to do it all the time when we were younger. He was such a fucking snitch. Guess he never grew out of it," Gojo scoffs, genuinely angry with the force he spins the ball with. And this is how Megumi can tell Gojo's infuriated with the entire situation – he's being genuinely mean about someone he values, someone he trusts. His jaw clenches and unclenches, the awful, nasty parts of him that he normally keeps pretty well contained lashing out. Because when Gojo starts to crack, he doesn't just fracture and simmer. He ruptures. Implodes and wounds, mutilating everything in his radius. Megumi sits down next to him anyway.
"He said it wouldn't be meaningful," he says to Gojo, pulling his knees to his chest. "Killing Naoya."
"'Course he did," Gojo hisses, dropping the ball to the floor to pinch the bridge of his nose. "I hate when he does that, you know."
"Do what?"
"Fill your head with stupid bullshit like that," he sighs, head tilting to look at Megumi for the first time since they got here. His blindfold is tightly wound around his face, hair sticking up like an idiot, but Megumi can tell he's looking straight at him. Maybe straight through him. "I don't think it's stupid," Megumi shrugs, leaning forward and grabbing at his own ankles.
"It is," Gojo says definitively, like he knows for sure. Like this is trusted and true bullshit. Like he's been here before. "It is, and I hate when you do that too."
"Do what?" Megumi repeats, leaning over to snatch the ball away from Gojo, mindlessly passing it through his own legs just so he has something to do with his hands that isn't summoning his shikigami.
"Listen to his stupid bullshit. Listen to him instead of me," huffs with scorn, head thudding back against the wall. Megumi laughs lightly, unable to help himself, especially with how irritated Gojo seems. It's kind of making this whole awful, sickening situation kind of funny in a way. "Crazy that you think I should listen to you, over Nanami."
"You should," Gojo protests, and he definitely isn't laughing. He moves quickly, easily snatching the ball away from Megumi and leaning forward into his space, forcing him to look up at him. "You should listen to me. Because I'm your…I'm the one-" Gojo cuts himself off, and Megumi can see his eyes screw shut under the blindfold, as if he's in pain. The ball is falling from his hands to the ground with a soft thud, and Gojo's head is dropping into his hands, fingers brushing through white hair to clutch at his roots.
"Kids don't listen to their parents, moron."
Gojo doesn't respond, fingers loosening in his curls as Megumi reaches for the ball again, pushing himself up onto his feet as he starts to dribble. It takes a couple of minutes for Gojo to look up, face still as he watches Megumi carefully. As he lifts up onto the tips of his feet and shoots, ball smashing off of the backboard with a resonating crash, before it plummets straight for Gojo.
"You don't have to do that," is all he says as he catches the ball easily in his hands, passing it back and forth unconsciously as he keeps his attention trained on Megumi.
"Do what?" he asks again, because this is always how it goes with the two of them. The ouroborous. No beginning, no ending. Nothing important said ever, everything meaningful is left hanging in the air. An open wound, festering and exposed. An open wound, painful with every breath, that you try your best to ignore because curing it might hurt even worse somehow.
"Tell me what I want to hear because I'm stressed out," Gojo says, tilted as he stands, tossing the ball back to Megumi. "Or because I threatened you with therapy."
"When have I ever cared about what you wanted to hear, Gojo? And since when have I ever listened to your meaningless threats?" Megumi rolls his eyes as he catches. "Don't demean me like that, asshole. Naoya did that enough. Tried his best to squeeze a lifetime of mental torture into like half an hour."
"I'm sorry," Gojo frowns, scratching the back of his neck. "That he even got half an hour with you."
"What was it then?" Megumi asks, holding the ball against his side. "The thing that was so important?" He doesn't miss the bob of Gojo's Adam's apple. Or the way his fingers twitch slightly. "It doesn't matter," he says firmly, even as he tries to shrug nonchalantly. As if Gojo doesn't care about everything in the same way that the sun cares. As if he can help the fact that he burns up with how much he cares. "I'm still in the process of figuring out what it was."
"Okay," Megumi shrugs, stifling a yawn as he takes off across the court, moving easily around the statue of Gojo to jump up into a leap and dunk the ball. A grin spreads across his face as he drops back onto the floor, catching the ball in his hands again with a small whoop. He can practically hear Yuuji cheering along, screaming the names of basketballers Megumi doesn't know as he bundles him up into his arms.
"Huh?" Gojo's voice snaps him out of it, but the smile stays even as he turns to blink up at his teacher. "You're not gonna interrogate me? Not gonna demand for answers?"
"Nah," he shakes his head. "I think that I'd actually just like to start being a kid. Figured I'm running out of time for it." He's not gonna tell Gojo that he's considering…quitting? (too professional) Abandoning? (too dramatic) Deserting? (even more dramatic) He's not gonna tell Gojo that he's considering dropping out. Not yet. Not until he's fully decided. Because Gojo won't understand. Jujutsu is his everything – he runs off Infinity and his Reversed Energy like most people run off air. Lives and breathes Jujutsu. And Megumi can't really find it in him to blame Gojo – it's all he's ever known. But Megumi's managed to get a taste of more than this. A taste of salty lips and bright smiles and holding hands when strolling.
Gojo Satoru wouldn't be Gojo Satoru without Jujutsu. He probably can't fathom someone wanting to leave. Megumi knows he never really truly forgave Nanami for leaving, even though he eventually came back. But he doesn't want to end up like Gojo. Can't end up like Gojo. He wants to know himself, wants to finally meet himself. Separate from all of this.
He'll tell him, eventually. He'll just add it to his list of things he never wants to do.
"Megumi," Gojo sighs, walking forward to drop his hands on Megumi's shoulders. "You're not gonna die, okay? The life expectancy of sorcerers is actually-"
"I meant I've only got a few years left of being a teenager, you psychopath!" he interrupts with a frustrated groan, shrugging Gojo off of him. "Fucking hell, who let you be a teacher?"
"Tch, who was gonna stop me?" Gojo murmurs, lips quirking up into a smile. Silence falls over the two of them, Megumi chewing on the inside of his cheek as dust collects over the two of them. And then Gojo speaks, head falling slightly. "I thought it was Suguru."
"Huh?" Megumi breathes back, brows furrowing in confusion as the ball slips through his fingers. "I thought I felt Suguru. His residuals. At the school," Gojo elaborates, Megumi's eyes twitching with disbelief as he listens. Now, he's always known that Gojo's partial to whimsy and fancy. He hadn't realised the man had freefallen into outright delusion.
Megumi starts, "that's not-" but Gojo cuts him off before he can finish, shaking his head and declaring, "I know." Megumi isn't convinced, staring at Gojo with parted lips because there is no way he believes his dead, genocidal ex-boyfriend is back from the grave. "I know, okay? I was wrong. I must've been wrong. I just…" he trails off with a frustrated sigh that sounds more like he's choking on the air.
"It's fine," Megumi tries, but Gojo frowns at him.
"No, it's not. He's gone. He's dead. And I still put him first. Before you. Before Yuuji. Before myself. He's dead, and I still do that." And it's like he's not even really still speaking to Megumi anymore, running a tired hand down his face.
"No. You don't," Megumi tells him, reaching down to pick up the ball just so he can toss it at Gojo's head. It bounces off of Infinity, landing in Gojo's hands. "Naobito's right," Megumi says, because he is, even as awful as those words taste to say. "You didn't go to war for Geto. You didn't put him before the rest of the world."
"And I regret it every day," Gojo argues. "I just…everything I do seems to be the wrong thing. I just can't seem to get anything right."
"I don't think that's Gojo Satoru specific," Megumi snorts. "I get like that too."
"Maybe I passed it down to you or something," Gojo shrugs with a sniff, bouncing the basketball up and down with a small ball of Blue Energy, hands in his pockets. "You're an idiot," Megumi rolls his eyes. "That's not how genetics works. And we're not even blood related."
"Trust me, I know," Gojo exhales, using Blue to bounce the ball around Megumi in circles as he cocks his head at him, yanking the blindfold down to hand around his neck. His eyes are lined with red. "It gets more obvious with each day. You're starting to look like him."
Megumi's fingers snap into fists, digging into the palm of his hands, knuckles strangled bone white. "You knew him?" he asks, voice trembling and he doesn't even really know why. Doesn't even really know why he's asking.
"Yeah," Gojo nods. "Yeah, I did." The ball gets thrown up in the air, his hands unfurling to instinctively reach out to grab it, the sorcerer disposition beaten into him since he was a child. Beads of blood stain his palms, crescent moons nicked into his skin as he catches the ball with a soft, "Oh."
"What was he like?" he finds himself asking, even though he's been telling himself for more than a decade now that he doesn't care. "I don't-I don't remember much."
"He was strong, I guess," Gojo says after a moment, blue eyes the sky over the sea during a storm, all silent thunder and raw, thrashing waves. His throat starts closing up at the thread in Gojo's voice, getting a sense of the sinful burden it might be tied to. He considers following it, picking at the thread and tying it around his fingers. Pulling and yanking with all his might until he dredges up the stone that his father clearly passed to Gojo. But he doesn't, because the thread is frayed, and mottled and worn. Megumi thinks it might have been snipped altogether at some point.
So instead, he murmurs, "But not the strongest," blinking down at the crimson streaked across the ball.
"No," Gojo agrees, storm tiding over. "Not the strongest."
"Look, Gojo," Megumi starts, clearing his throat awkwardly. "About the contract-"
"Megumi." He's interrupted, blue eyes widening with clear panic. "I-look you have to try and understand. I didn't know what else to do. I couldn't-Naobito's right, I couldn't go to war. I couldn't take that stand. My clan would've…I don't even want to think about what they would've done. But I couldn't just let them take you like that. We tried so hard to think of anything else, but time was running out and I-"
"I get it," Megumi cuts him off before Gojo passes out from the lack of oxygen getting to his brain. "It's fine. I mean, I'd like to read it. So, I can understand everything. But…I mean, I get it."
"You do?" Gojo blinks over and over, like he doesn't really understand who's standing in front of him. "Yeah, I mean, I'd rather legally belong to you than the Zenin clan. And it ends when I'm in control of my technique, right? So, it's not even that bad a deal."
"I guess there are worse people you could be legally tied to than a billionaire," Gojo admits.
"I don't care about that, imbecile," Megumi groans, face reddening but pushing forward anyway, because as awful and awkward as it is to choke these words out, Gojo deserves to hear them. "It's because…I don't mind because I love you too, okay? And I trust you. With my life. With Tsumiki's life. With…everything. I trust that you're not gonna let anything bad happen to me. I always have, really."
"Naobito's right," Gojo chokes out, voice thick. "My love doesn't-"
"Shut up, Satoru," Megumi hisses, tossing the ball to the side to step forward and pull the older man into a hug. "Since when do we listen to alcoholics?" he asks, fisting the back of Gojo's shirt with his bloody palms.
"Shoko?" Gojo asks, voice wavering with a wet drip of amusement.
"We don't listen to Shoko either," Megumi points out, voice muffled by the hug. "That's like the first thing you taught me. You also taught me that it's better to have loved than not loved, even if it ends up a shitshow. That's what everyone says, right?" he asks, pulling back to meet Gojo's eyes.
"Who's everyone?"
"I don't know," Megumi sighs. "The poets, the writers, the painters. You said it."
"I'm not a poet," Gojo murmurs, white teeth digging into his own lip. "I'm an idiot. Who's in way over his head."
"Well yeah," Megumi nods, lips breaking out into a fierce grin. "You must be in deep. Since your head's so fucking big already."
And a matching smile kisses its way across Gojo's face, widening as he yanks Megumi back into the hug, dropping his chin into dark curls like he used to do when Megumi was younger. Untouched, unscarred fingers reach up to splay across the back of his neck, lightly tugging at the longer hair at his nape.
"I'm proud of you, y'know?" Gojo tells him, and Megumi doesn't respond, kind of afraid of what'll come out, so he just buries his face deeper into the hug. "This time of year…it always reminds me of you as a kid. You and your big green eyes and tiny, screwed up frown. It was June, I think. When I found you. That weird line of Spring fading into Summer. With the warm rain and everything. Reminds me of you every time it rolls around. My Summer blessing. That's what you were. You and Miki both. That's what you are."
Megumi pulls back to speak, although he doesn't even know what he can say anymore, run out of words to express anything and everything, when the sound of a ball being tossed into a net breaks both of them out of it. He turns, expecting to see Yaga or one of the Higher Ups ready to call Gojo back to the meeting.
"Yo." He didn't expect the two suspended third years to be standing there, back in their uniforms and waving their hands at Gojo. "'Sup, sensei," Hakari grins, throwing an arm around Kirara's waist. "You didn't forget it was our first day back, did you?"
"No!" Gojo exclaims, clapping his hands together. It's not believable, especially because he's still blinking at Hakari and Kirara like he's not really sure what's going on. "Of course not. How could I forget about my favourite students coming back?"
"You say everyone's your favourite," Kirara rolls her eyes, bubble of pink gum blowing through her glossy lips. "Looks like we figured out who really is, though," she adds, smiling in Megumi's direction.
"That uniform isn't up to dress code," Megumi points out, nose crinkling at both of them. They have matching jackets, which is genuinely a bit repulsive, and Hakari has dyed his dreads, so they match with the purple streak in Kirara's hair. The only difference between them is the insanely mini skirt Kirara's wearing along with the five-inch heels, and the tattoos pooling along every inch of Hakari's skin. "I think we look good. Right, babe?" he asks, brown eyes gleaming as Kirara rakes her nails up his arm.
"We always do, Kari-kun," she agrees. "Oh, by the way, someone's looking for you."
"Yeah, I bet," Gojo sighs, rubbing at his temples wearily. "Well, you can just go tell Naobito and Yaga to shove their-"
"Not you," Hakari smirks. "It was for Meg. Shoko said your boyfriend's woken up," he emphasises this by wiggling his eyebrows that wouldn't be funny anyway, but especially now. At the mere mention of Yuuji, his body stiffens, and he has to physically stop himself from sprinting from the room.
"It's okay," Gojo nods with a soft smile, like he can hear Megumi's thoughts. "You should go to your boy. We can talk more later."
"But Yuuji, and the whole-," Megumi starts, heart thumping in his chest as Gojo's arms fall from around his shoulders, sliding back into his pockets as he smoothly cuts off Megumi with a miniscule nod towards the third years. "We'll talk about it later. But I really don't think it's a big deal, to be honest."
Eye twitching, Megumi has to remind himself of what he literally just said. That he trusts Gojo. And he does, he genuinely does trust his judgment. But only Gojo would say that being a vessel for Sukuna Ryomen isn't a big deal.
"Yeah," Megumi says, nodding even though he's already backing away from Gojo. "Yeah, okay. I'll see you tonight. Try not kill anyone," he calls over his shoulder as he shoves past Hakari and Kirara, ignoring their protests. "Meh," is all Gojo says in response, blue eyes crinkling with amusement and maybe something a little more meaningful before he yanks his blindfold back up.
"Hey!" Hikari shouts. "So, what's all this about our baby Meg having a boyfriend? You're all grown up now!" But he's already sprinting away, shoes thudding against the hall. He does manage to throw his middle finger up at them all before he turns the corner, skidding and almost slipping right onto his ass. The last thing he hears is "your eyes are creepy as fuck, Sensei. No wonder you keep that shit on twenty-four/seven."
He doesn't stop running until he makes it to the morgue, taking the stone steps three at a time and launching himself into the open doorway. Pain screams up his calves as he lands on the tiles poorly, and Shoko calls out in irritation, but he's too focused on open brown eyes and a crushingly handsome smile, mouthing around Megumi's name.
Everything he wanted to say, needed to say, dies in his throat. All he can do is throw himself at Yuuji, who's standing in the middle of the room, whole and alive and breathing and looking no worse for wear. Practically crushing the other boy, he holds him as tightly as he can, hands roaming everywhere because he can't beat the nagging, sick feeling of worry rising in his chest, even though he trusts Shoko's Technique.
"Hey," Yuuji says, pulling back slightly to knock his forehead lightly against Megumi's. "Hey, Fushiguro," he says, firmer this time, and green eyes flicker up to meet Yuuji's. "I'm fine, okay?" He nods slowly as Yuuji's hands come up to cup his face. "All good."
"Okay," Megumi says slowly, because he still doesn't know if he really believes it. Because he knows he should be saying something very different right now. Should be explaining, and apologising, and begging for forgiveness. But before he can even try to say any of that, Yuuji is reaching up and licking a wet stripe along Megumi's face.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" Megumi winces, pulling back with a wince. "Tch," he borderline whines, before shoving at Yuuji's shoulder. But his boyfriend just keeps grinning widely, easily snatching Megumi's hand back into his own. "See, right back to normal?"
"That was so gross, Yuu," Megumi frowns as he rubs at his cheek with his other sleeve.
"Please," Yuuji rolls his eyes. "You've literally had my tongue down your thro-" Megumi yanks his hand out of Yuuji's to slap it over his mouth. Face reddening in mortification, he can barely look over at Shoko as he grits out, "I'm gonna take Yuuji home now."
"Sure," Shoko smirks as Megumi starts dragging Yuuji from the room, still humiliated, but also now relieved that Yuuji is back to being as painfully, endearingly undignified as normal. "Hey, wait up," Shoko calls after them, but Megumi already knows where this is going, so he just tightens his fingers around Yuuji's, and continues to lead him up and out of the room. "Did Gojo ever get around to the birds and the bees talk with you, Gumi-chan?" she cackles anyway, bursting into peals of laughter in the morgue, on her own, like a psychotic hag.
"I'm glad you're okay," Megumi says to Yuuji, squeezing his hand. "And I'm so fucking sorry that I got you-"
"Let's wait till we get home, okay?" Yuuji smiles softly, thumb running over the bridge of Megumi's knuckles.
They don't speak much on the way back to Yuuji's place, sitting beside each other on the train and watching the sky darken from the dirty window. Yuuji drops his head onto Megumi's shoulder, stifling yawns into his dirty, sweaty uniform as he pretends like he's not falling asleep.
It's weirdly peaceful. With the familiar hum of the train along its tracks, hushed conversations around them as Megumi drops his cheek onto matted, blood-streaked hair (because apparently Shoko draws the line at washing out her patient's hair.) As they disembark, Megumi lightly shaking Yuuji out of his light sleep and tugging him back out into the streets. The darkening sky, littered with stars they can't see from the manufactured orange lights seeping from above. Their easy conversation as they walk, Megumi blinking down at Yuuji every two seconds just to make sure he's still there.
"You let Shoko look at you, didn't you?"
Yuuji scoffs with amusement as he says, "Women who look like that are free to do whatever they want with me."
"Whore," he rolls his eyes, even though a small smile is tugging on his lips as Yuuji knocks their shoulders together and declares, "Only for you, Meg."
It's almost enough to calm Megumi down. But then they reach Yuuji's place, shuffling their shoes off in the doorway and creeping through the hallway, silently praying that Choso has magically vanished off the face of the Earth. Or maybe disappeared to Europe. Yeah, he'd take Choso being in France.
Unfortunately, Choso has not disappeared, nor died. He isn't even at work. As soon as Yuuji nudges open the front door, Megumi notices the obnoxiously emo boots neatly lined up beside Yuuji's collection of trainers. He must visibly freak, because Yuuji smoothly laces his fingers through Megumi, squeezing softly as Choso calls from further inside the flat, "Yuu-chan?"
"Fuck," Megumi chokes out, genuinely sweating with how poorly he's keeping it together. "Let's just go," he splutters out quickly, clamping down on Yuuji's hand and starting to drag him back to the door.
"Go where?" Yuuji asks, looking at him from over his shoulder, somehow not budging despite Megumi yanking with all his strength. His boyfriend looks impossibly calm, even though he was the one who was kidnapped, beaten, used as bait, and kind of, almost introduced to Jujutsu all in the span of one afternoon. And now the blue sky has bled into darkness, and there is blood painted across pink hair, and Shoko's Cursed Energy frying across tanned skin, and Yuuji is still smiling at Megumi like he could be in love with him.
"Florida," Megumi says, voice bordering on pleading. Yuuji's look of amusement crumbling into something softer, something sweeter, as he leans forward to press a kiss to Megumi's temple, running a knuckle down his cheekbone. He tries to lean into it, tries to use it to his advantage to catch Yuuji off guard as he's seriously considering opening up his shadows and swallowing up the two of them into the abyss. But then Yuuji is pulling back quickly, always somehow a step ahead of Megumi.
"You'd hate Florida," is all he says before he's walking on, fingers slipping from Megumi's fingers to instead wrap around his wrist. And now Yuuji is yanking, and he is stupidly stronger than Megumi is, and he is stupidly weaker-willed than Yuuji is, so he finds himself following along. Eyes screwing shut, dread washes over him as they near the entrance to the dining room to hear Choso ask, "I thought you were staying at Junpei's tonight. Why are you- what in heaven's name?"
He says that last part at the exact same time Yuuji murmurs in disbelief, "What the fuck?" Megumi blinks his eyes open, confused by the shock in Yuuji's voice, to see Choso sat at the table that is set up with a candle, and two empty plates and two glasses of wine. Because Choso is sat opposite a woman. A woman that Megumi has to stare at for a solid minute before he is also choking out, "What the fuck?"
"What happened to you?" Choso is yelling, looking torn between concern and fury. The worry clearly wins out, as he practically teleports beside Yuuji's side, fingers prodding all over his brother's face as he checks for further injury. "Why is there Cursed Energy all over you?"
"You're on a date?" Yuuji is saying at the same time, brows furrowed with confusion. "You're on a date with a woman who looks like that? What is going on?"
"That is unimportant. I demand you tell me what happened," Choso hisses.
"Did you put gel in your hair?" Yuuji cries out. "Did you steal my hair gel?"
"Tsukumo-san?" Megumi manages to blurt out, eye twitching as Tsukumo Yuki's attention lands on him, brown eyes crinkling with something akin to amusement, but somehow innately more disarming. "You're on a date with Tsukumo-san?" Megumi asks, turning to find a furious Choso. First mistake – calling attention to himself.
"What did you do to my brother?" Choso practically screams, and Megumi wonders how long it'll take for the neighbours to call the police. "I knew you would try and hurt him just like you did with-"
"Are you crazy?" Megumi chokes out, trying to avoid Choso but finding himself lifted off of the floor in one swoop, collar tight in the curse's fists. "I didn't do shit!" he protests, legs swinging as he tries his best to break Choso's kneecaps.
"Oh yeah? Then why does he have blood in his hair and the witch's healing Energy all over him?" Choso hisses, and Megumi's face bleaches when the blood on his face starts contorting into something that he doesn't doubt will be sharper than a katana.
"You were supposed to be protecting him!" Megumi barks back, dropping to the floor in a crouch when Kong appears howling from the shadows, barrelling into Choso. "What a great big brother you are, asshole," he scowls, throwing himself to the side to narrowly dodge the arrow of crystalised blood that flies right towards his forehead. He only then realises, eyes flicking up to his boyfriend (ex-boyfriend probably), that Yuuji has been shouting their names this entire time, face contorted with an irritation he's never seen on Yuuji before. He hesitates at that, slumping against the wall.
"How dare you?" Choso yells at him, but before another arrow can find its way buried into his throat, Tsukumo is elegantly untangling her legs from under the table, before she's clearing her throat, and three pairs of eyes settle on her. "Boys," she sighs, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. "As much as I love a good fistfight, this is getting us nowhere."
"Choso, darling," she says smoothly, and Megumi thinks he might throw up in his mouth. Yuuji looks like he might too, watching Choso and Yuki like this is the weirdest thing he's seen all day. "I think you should speak to your brother. Instead of trying to murder his boyfriend." Choso looks torn at this, eyes flicking from Yuuji to Megumi like he does still really want to murder the boyfriend. Yuuji decides for Choso in the end, grabbing his arm and pulling him into the kitchen, sending Megumi one last quirk of a smile before the door is sliding shut behind them.
"Hey." He looks up to find Tsukumo sitting down beside him, legs neatly in a basket. He pushes himself up so he's sitting straight, eyeing her with suspicion because while Tsukumo might be a Special Grade, Gojo has never had a particularly good thing to say about the woman. Apart from when him and Shoko were objectifying all their co-workers in the longest game of Fuck, Marry, Kill that Megumi has ever had the displeasure of listening to.
"You're Gojo's kid, right?" she asks, eyes roaming over his face as if she's looking for the connection. For anything that might read as him being related to the infamous Gojo Satoru. "Fushiguro?"
"Yeah," he nods.
"Woah," she whistles. "I thought you'd be taller."
"I'm only sixteen," he protests, because he's not even that short. He's above average height for his age. He's got like three inches on Yuuji. "Sure," Tsukumo shrugs, but he can tell she doesn't really care. Maybe she just feels bad for him, having just witnessed her date try to mutilate him. "Plenty of time to grow," she nods, and an awkward silence lapses over them.
"So," he starts, voice coming out croaky, but he absolutely has to know what the fuck is going on. "How did you and uh…Choso…"
"Oh," Tsukumo smiles, wide and toothy and beautiful. "Well, I was in the city for a meeting, and I was bored as hell so I found myself just walking around, y'know? Taking in the sights and all that shit, when I walked past this bar and picked up on some absolutely fucked up Cursed Energy. Went in to scope it out and saw the hottest man I've ever seen in my life. Figured I could kill two birds with one stone and fuck him to find out what his deal was."
"Yikes."
"Well, anyway, here I am. The date was going well, to be honest. He's cute. Almost forgot why I was here. And then Gojo's kid shows up with Choso's little brother – who also has some really fucked up Cursed Energy." Brown eyes slide to meet his, sculptured brow quirking up as Tsukumo reads right through him.
"Maybe it's a brother thing," Megumi tries to weakly argue. "Genetics?"
"I heard someone stole Sukuna's fingers," Tsukumo says, completely refusing to even give Megumi an inch here.
"Look, please don't tell anyone about Yuuji. You can't. The Higher Ups will kill him. Please, Tsukumo-san. Gojo's trying to get it under control, and Choso's looking out for him, and we don't even really know what the-"
"Chill out kiddo," Tsukumo laughs, a firm hand dropping onto his shoulder. "I'm not going to tell the Higher Ups shit. I don't work for those guys. Your secret's safe with me." And she mimes like she's zipping up her mouth and tossing away the key. No one's ever mentioned how corny Tsukumo seems to be. But maybe it's a repeating pattern with Special Grades.
"Everyone works for them," Megumi frowns. "You can't be a Jujutsu Sorcerer and not work for them."
"Yeah." Tsukumo's eyes crinkle with something like amusement, but her jaw clenches with something a little darker. "Sure kid," she nods, blonde hair falling like silk in front of her face as she mutters, "I bet that's what they try and teach you at that school." There's a pause, and Tsukumo taps her fingers along her knees, and Megumi considers saying something, but the door to the kitchen is sliding open, and Choso is walking in looking a bit less murderous, and Yuuji is following him with a soft smile.
"I just thought Gojo would've tried to teach you better than that." His head snaps back to Tsukumo at that, but she's already standing up and looking at Choso like she never even said anything, a burning disbelief tainting her words. Before he can question her, Yuuji is striding towards Megumi and snatching his hands in his own, lightly pulling him up to his feet.
"We're gonna go to my room," he tells Choso, who now seems a bit preoccupied with the beautiful, tall woman wrapping her arms around his shoulders. "Door open," Choso barks, clearly not preoccupied enough to be less of a freak.
"Hey, kid!" Megumi turns back as Tsukumo calls after him, teeth working her red painted lips. "If you ever wanna talk, Gojo has my details." And with one last glance over him, like he's something she can't quite figure out, or maybe like he's the product of something she can't quite figure out, she's turning back to Choso and running her hands over his shirt collar.
"Come on," Yuuji urges as he leads Megumi out of the room and down the hall. "I can't believe Choso was on a date," he scoffs with laughter. "You knew that woman?"
"She works with Gojo sometimes," Megumi shrugs, because he still has no idea how he's supposed to explain this entire thing to Yuuji. Part of him is secretly hoping Choso's done the job for him, but he's not entirely sure Choso even understands this entire thing. Thinks Choso might just work off pure instincts.
He trails after Yuuji into his bedroom, smiling to himself when the other boy resolutely clicks the door shut with a crinkle of his nose. Standing against the wall, heart thudding in his chest, he watches as Yuuji practically falls onto his bed. "So," he starts, dropping onto his back with a soft exhale of breath. "You're like a wizard?" he asks, tilting his head to stare up at Megumi through long eyelashes.
"A sorcerer," Megumi corrects, scratching the back of his neck. "Technically," he adds, cringing at himself.
"Fuck," Yuuji laughs breathily, before patting the space on the mattress beside him. He doesn't speak again until Megumi gingerly sits down awkwardly, back straight and limbs stiff. "That's so cool," Yuuji murmurs, even as Megumi blinks down at him in irritated confusion, because this really isn't the reaction he was expecting. But now that he's thinking about it, considering Yuuji, maybe this is exactly what he should've been expecting. "You're so cool," he says softly, reaching up to brush a finger across Megumi's forehead, right down his nose before he lightly flicks it against his chin.
"I don't know if it's cool," Megumi frowns, pointedly refusing to look at Yuuji, because he's insanely confused as to why Yuuji isn't shouting at him right now, for lying to him for months. The entire time that they've known each other. "You almost died because of me," Megumi whispers, the words heavy on his tongue.
"Yeah," Yuuji shrugs, like he really doesn't care. Megumi's heart squeezes, because he just doesn't understand. "But you saved me, Megs. Which was hot, by the way. Fuck, it was so hot. You're so hot." And then Yuuji is leaning up, and in a smooth swooping motion, Megumi is lying on his back, the other boy crowding over him, one hand holding himself up while the other winds itself through black strands like harp strings. And all of the wind is knocked out of Megumi, because Yuuji is beautiful. So beautiful it hurts to look at him sometimes. Because Yuuji looks like he could be the rest of his life.
"I think we should talk," Megumi says, fingers pressing against the pulsepoint in Yuuji's hand, the fingers in his hair stilling. "Talking's not super my thing," Yuuji shrugs, brown eyes wide and open as always. But Megumi's in now. He's too entangled in Yuuji to miss the moment of grief that flashes across his eyes.
"Yuuji," Megumi breathes, name falling from his mouth like a prayer. "We gotta talk."
"I don't want to," Yuuji frowns, but he's pushing himself back up into a seated position, back slumping against his wall as he digs his socked toes into the duvet. "If we talk, if I let you talk…" he trails off, shaking his head as he brings his knees up to his chest. "You're just going to try and break up with me. And I'm not going to let you, which is just going to piss you off and-"
"Yuuji, what are you-" Megumi starts, brows furrowing together as he pushes himself up, shuffling so he's sat shoulder to shoulder with the other boy.
"You know what I'm talking about. Don't pretend to be stupid," Yuuji interrupts, eyes cutting towards him, slicing right through his flesh. Megumi feels undone and raw, sat in this boy's childhood bedroom, grabbing at his bare ankles.
"I don't…look, it's not like I want to break up, okay?"
"Then why are we?"
"We are?" Megumi asks, despite himself, voice cracking.
"No," Yuuji shakes his head firmly, small smile pulling at his dimples, even as his eyes swim with a certain, nameless sadness. "We're going to Florida. But you clearly want to talk about breaking up, so go for it."
"What are you-"
"Go for it," Yuuji shrugs, leaning in closer until he can nudge his nose against Megumi's. "Try it, Fushiguro Megumi. Try and break up with me. Like you mean it."
"Yuuji." But it comes out as a gasp instead, as the other boy pushes forward, lips pressing against his jaw. "I thought you wanted to talk," Yuuji hums against his skin, hands leaving his sides to come and needle at the hem of Megumi's shirt, skirting under to press at his sides. "I'm not hearing a whole lot of talking, Fushiguro."
"I lied to you for months. The entire time we've known each other, the entire time we've been dating, I lied to you about who I really am."
"No, you didn't. Idiot." Yuuji pulls away enough for Megumi to see him rolling his eyes, before leaning back in, hands roaming further up, warm and soft against his cold skin. "Yeah, sure. You lied about what kind of school you go to. I should've known you weren't religious anyway, with the kind of shit you say to me," he added, breath hot against Megumi's neck before he bites down, sharp enough to punch a sound out of Megumi's flooded lungs. "But you didn't lie about who you are."
"I did. I'm a-"
"Yeah, I get it," Yuuji sighs, sounding like he's already growing irritated of the game he's managed to set up for himself. He told Megumi to try. "You're a sorcerer," he nods, sitting up so he can lightly shove Megumi onto his back again, straddling him as his hands keep tracing his ribs. "That's not the total of you, Meg. That's not you."
"I still lied."
"So don't lie to me again. That's an easy choice that I'm pretty sure you're capable of making, Megumi. I know now. I know now and I'm still here, aren't I?"
"You shouldn't be. I knew about Choso. Gojo set the whole thing up! I tried…I tried to kill Choso, there was a whole incident, and I tried to kill your brother. And then my weird adoptive dad fucked around with the foster system to set you and Choso up together. He fucked around with your life, and you didn't even know."
"Yeah, Choso explained it earlier. After he tried to kill you. He's a curse, or something, right?"
"Half-curse, technically."
"I'm not mad at you or Gojo for bringing Choso into my life, no matter how you did it. I mean, I'm glad it happened. I got to meet my big brother. I don't care about any of that, because Choso's still my brother just like Gojo's still your dad. It's a choice, Megumi. Sometimes you have to choose to be happy. Despite it all."
"Yuuji, you would be happier without me in your life."
"God, you're such a dick sometimes, Megumi," Yuuji hisses, lips turning into a pout as one hand leaves his ribcage to punch his shoulder. "Ow," Megumi scowls, trying to sit up because alright, that actually kind of hurt, the little shit. But Yuuji isn't moving, hands firm on Megumi's hips as he says, "You don't get to pick for me, okay? That's not how this works. I choose this."
"What if I don't? What if I don't choose you?" The words come out weak. Faltering. Because it's getting a lot harder to focus on anything else but Yuuji. As the boy sits on him, moonlight streaming through his blinds, Megumi thinks he would take anything Yuuji said to him right now as gospel. All he can focus on is his skin. Peeking out from his neckline. Running down his arms, the underside paler than the rest of him. Skin nicked from falling over in volleyball or decking it on his board. Skin tanned from sprawling out on his balcony. Skin, previously untouched by Megumi. Skin, previously unkissed by Megumi. Unruined by Megumi.
"I've cursed you," he chokes out. "Don't you see that? I've fucked it all up. I'm…that guy who took you. He wants me dead. He is always going to want me dead. This is my life, Yuuji. It's not going to get any better than this. It's just going to get worse. You don't want this."
"I want you," Yuuji says firmly, big hands cupping either side of Megumi's face. "I don't really give a fuck about the rest of it. We can figure it out. We can figure this shit out together, okay? But I'm not just gonna let you give up before you even fucking try."
"That's not fair," Megumi protests weakly, trying to hide his face, but all he does is turn in deeper into Yuuji's palms. "No," the other boy huffs. "You're not being fair. You're being selfish, Fushiguro."
"I am trying to protect you," Megumi hisses, because why can't Yuuji just understand that? He sits up with enough force that Yuuji stumbles backwards, positions shifting so that the other boy ends up in a heap on Megumi's lap. "Don't you get that? It isn't safe for you."
"But it is for you?" Yuuji scoffs, fingers reaching down to graze his nails against the scars littering Megumi's chest, fingers, arms. "It's different," he whispers, Yuuji's touch rendering him a little bit stupid. A little bit breathless. A little bit in love.
"How?" Yuuji shrugs, and if Megumi wasn't so completely obsessed with him, this strong will would really be pissing him off.
"I was born for this, okay? It's all I've ever known."
"You are being such a pussy," Yuuji laughs, as if they're playing a round in Valorant and this is completely inconsequential. As if Megumi hasn't doomed the both of them. "Who cares about any of that? You're sixteen! You have your entire life to learn something else. To pick something else. To know something else."
"Yuuji." It's meant to come across as irritated, because he is kind of annoyed. But Yuuji's hand dips further down and it comes out as an awfully embarrassing groan instead. And the other boy won't even let him hide his crimson face in his chest, keeping Megumi at a distance so he can glare into his eyes. "Do it," he demands, throwing one arm around Megumi's shoulder while the other hand presses a firm finger into his chest. "Do it," he repeats, finger fanning out into a palm across Megumi's heart. Like he wants to dig in and tear it out, because he doesn't trust Megumi to keep good enough care of it.
"Do what?" he asks, patience running out.
Well, he tried his best. Really he did. He did what Yuuji asked of him. They always knew he was going to fail. His shadows dissolve into nothing as Yuuji bends down, lips opening up against Megumi's to finally put an end to his misery. Yuuji swallows the remaining fight out of him. And as Megumi's hands end up intertwined with hair that matches green eyes, they both know who's won.
He considers telling Yuuji everything. About Sukuna, and the vessel and the thing Naoya said about someone wanting Yuuji. But then Yuuji whimpers into his mouth, hips rocking forward and the thought dies an awful, painful death as Megumi strangles it in his mind. It's fine. He'll just add it to the list of things he doesn't want to do, but will definitely do. Eventually. At some point. When his boyfriend isn't making those sounds.
"Pick something else," Yuuji says anything, pleading against his lips. "Pick something that makes you happier. Don't be a coward."
And Megumi closes the distance this time, hands splayed out as he grabs at everything he reaches. All he can focus on is the points where they touch. Yuuji's thumb, digging into Megumi's hipbone, holding him down like he's not entirely convinced the other boy won't disappear. Yuuji's ring finger, on Megumi's throat, tracing blue veins. Yuuji's lips on his – something happier, something better. Something that tastes like the sun.
"You have to stay here tonight," Yuuji says, voice unbudging as he pulls back to stare at Megumi, lips parted and eyes glassy and face flushed.
"I do?" Megumi snorts, because if Yuuji got to do all that to him (shifting his outlook on life/saving his life/looking at him with those eyes), then he's allowed to tease him a bit. "Your brother lives here too, remember?"
"He left with the pretty lady. I heard the front door close."
"You did? How the hell did you-"
"Stay here," Yuuji demands, hands roaming all over Megumi's face. Brushing back black strands from his face, tapping against the curve of his ears, knuckles against his cheekbones, tracing his cupid's bow.
"You want me to stay."
"Yeah," Yuuji nods, eyes crinkling with sun lines. "I think I still have a concussion. That asshole really did kick the shit out of me." Megumi doesn't realise the laugh that twinkles around the room like a discoball is his own until he's curling into Yuuji's chest with the force of it. "You can't laugh at a concussed guy," Yuuji says, and even though he can't see him, face buried in his neck, he can hear the grin in his words.
"Well," Megumi muses, lifting his head up to meet eyes the colour of milky tea, of fresh cinnamon and of everything soft and kind and everything Megumi has ever wanted. "If you have a concussion, then you should go to the hospital."
"Or you could just stay here. With me," Yuuji murmurs, lightly pulling Megumi closer to him, Megumi's legs a bit too long for this to be comfortable. But he smiles along anyway, wrapping his legs around Yuuji's middle as he lazily drops his arms against his broad shoulders, lightly poking at his back. "Just in case I pass out."
"I won't know what to do if you pass out," Megumi shrugs, grin so wide it's almost aching.
"Let's hope I don't pass out then," Yuuji grins, and this time there is no bench, and no family names and no awkwardness because Megumi now knows how to breathe in his own skin a bit more comfortably than back then.
"I think I know something that might help," he says easily, hands leaving Yuuji's shoulder to reach further down, grin widening every more, splitting his face in two, as he knocks their hips together.
"Oh yeah?" Yuuji laughs, and that sound is all Megumi ever wants to hear. He wants to keep hearing it for his entire life. "Well, I don't know about you, but I want to-"
And as lovely as his boyfriend's voice is, Megumi silences him with a firm kiss, because he can think of something that might prove to be even better than Yuuji's stupid jokes. Somehow, Yuuji still manages to get one out though, as Megumi's lips leave his so he can pull his ruined shirt off, too enamoured with the never-ending expanse of tanned, taunt skin to shut Yuuji up.
"You know," Yuuji starts, voice tighter than normal as their clothes find themselves on the wooden floor, strewn on top of abandoned textbooks and Pokémon cards. "For a second back there, I really thought I was gonna die a virgin."
Megumi can't believe he's in love with this idiot. Can't believe he ever thought he could not be in love with this idiot.