IF CLARITY'S IN DEATH THEN WHY WON'T THIS DIE?
megumi x reader
a/n: angst, implied mental illness/depression. broke my own heart writing this. obviously a nod to my favorite song from midnights!
Megumi notices when you leave through the front door, jacket thrown over your shoulders and a cigarette hanging lazily from your fingers.
Of course he notices, he thinks angrily.
After all this time, his body still moves on autopilot when it comes to you. If you enter a room, the air still shifts, his head still turns. If you’re looking at him, he still feels your eyes burning holes in his very being, even if you look away right as his indigo gaze challenges yours. And fuck your voice, honestly. Still the one he hears so distinctly over any other noise, any other chatter, any possible beat of silence. He could be in the middle of the goddamn ocean, underwater, ears a second away from exploding from the pressure and he would still hear you laugh on any shore. It’s what love did to him, apparently. Each second spent together had your being carefully carved into each fiber and muscle of his.
And now, in a room filled with some of his closest friends and the beautiful woman holding his hand, he can’t breathe. Because, how dare you? Show up all of a sudden, have the audacity to appear surprised by his presence, spend half of the evening looking at him, at her, and now taking a smoke break because you’re what? Stressed? Why can’t you just leave, then?
Megumi needs a reason to follow you outside and he lets that reason be anger. It’s an anger that fades into something more complicated, something that encompasses both resentment and necessity. You don’t get to lead, he does for once. Even if leading means forcing himself to confront you.
Itadori’s porch only has two steps and sure enough you’re sitting on the first one, curled into yourself with your chin resting on your knees as the front door shuts behind you. Your back straightens up as if a shockwave was sent through your entire body and you’re only gifted with one second, just one entire second to hope for the person behind you to be Yuuta, or Maki, or even Itadori, the host himself. But he still wears the same cologne so your heart can only squeeze pathetically as he sits on the upper step behind you. A safe space, the perfect distance. A silent demand for you not to turn around but to still feel his presence, long legs stretched right next to you.
“Can you believe how old Yuuji is?” you speak casually but there’s nothing casual about the way your voice trembles.
He hums.
“Old enough to get drunk on his own birthday, apparently”
“Finally, you mean” the small laugh you let out sounds weird and you seal it by bringing the cigarette to your numb lips, inhaling as deeply as you can. Of course he doesn’t laugh.
“Did he invite you?” there’s no harshness embedded in the question but your eyes flutter shut for a second anyway.
“Don’t be mad at him, I’ll leave in a bit”
“That’s very generous of you”
You exhale slowly, take the hit quietly. The cruel contrast between how you feel for each other cuts the air from your lungs for a moment. “I know it’s not mutual but I’m happy to see you. To see that you’re doing fine”
This time he does laugh, a dry, mocking sound that crawls out of his throat and sends a shiver down your spine.
“Give me a fucking break” he mutters and you can’t see it but he’s adamantly shaking his head, in disbelief “you mean you’re happy to see I’m dating someone? Is that why you’re here?”
“I didn’t know” the reply comes out harsher than how you intended but you can’t help it really, not as flashes of long legs, blonde hair, pretty scarlet lips curved into an adoring smile play on repeat right before your eyes, so much that you have to blink the ghostly appearances away “but I am happy. If you’re happy”
“Stop trying to be the bigger person. You’ve been staring all night”
“Yes. Yes, I’ve been staring. You know why I’ve been staring”
You hear the distinct hitch of breath.
“Don’t” he sputters out.
The corners of your eyes sting and you’re thankful you get to keep the pathetic expression taking over your features to yourself.
“You know I’m still in love with you” it’s vile, unfair, but you let those words cut through the chilly air of the evening anyway.
Megumi’s nails painfully dig into his palms and he hopes blood comes out, he hopes a meteor strikes the garden and opens the biggest crater in recorded history, he prays Gojo Satoru will jump down from the fucking roof to grab the collar of his shirt and drag him away as his inopportune, hectic, annoying self often does. But nothing happens. There’s no calamity to distract him from the rage and the pain wrecking his body from within.
“You don’t get to say that” you can tell he’s gritting his teeth but what’s worse is the agony concealed in his tone. You recognize it, of course you recognize it.
He’s right, you don’t get to say that. You don’t get to hurt him more than you already have. But haven’t you always been selfish? Haven’t you always put your needs right before his, up until the very end?
“You left me. No, even worse, you forced me to leave you. I begged, I waited at your door, you never even opened. You don’t know what love is”
With a shaky breath, you extinguish the cigarette on the same step you’re sitting on, then press your thumbs onto your eyelids in a weak attempt to stop the tears. It doesn’t work.
“I’m sorry” you murmur “you know it wasn’t because I stopped loving you. I just wanted to—”
“I don’t give a shit. Who gave you the right to make that choice on your own, for the both of us? Why didn’t I get to have a say in the matter?”
“Megumi…”
“Oh, I know why. You get off to that. You get a kick out of things going wrong, of the worst possible scenarios, you bask in any goddamn disappointment because it gives you the chance to think you were right. Something was eventually going to happen. And that’s how you always leave”
“You’re being cruel” it’s barely a whisper but it’s met with a sarcastic smirk nonetheless.
“Well, you broke my fucking heart, so maybe I get to be cruel”
You turn around at last and he can’t help the wince as he takes in the sight of your tear stained cheeks.
“You think I enjoy being like this? You think I like being so scared, never laying the armor down, no matter how much I love and trust someone? You think I get a kick out of being so broken?” you wonder if a person can even cry as much as you are as you speak angrily, conscious of how undeserving of that feeling you actually are. Why should you get to be upset when he’s the one who’s been hurting all this time?
Megumi almost, almost gives in to the impulse of gently wiping away your tears. He’s on the verge of doing what he’s done a million times: take you in his arms and hope it’s enough to keep you from falling apart right in front of his eyes. But years of trying and the end of your relationship have taught him that this is not something anyone else can do for you. You have to figure it out on your own, it hurts too much to keep trying only to keep failing and he’s still so worn out from all the useless love he has for you. Doesn’t even know what to do with it now, where to put it. No point in giving it to you, unthinkable to give it to someone else. It’ll just stay in his body, he believes, slowly eating him alive from within for god knows how much more time.
“I would’ve been there” he speaks slowly, eyes never leaving yours, not even attempting to control the desperation in his voice anymore “through the worst, I would’ve been there. You didn’t want me”
He'd been there so many times, after all. On the days you couldn't bring yourself to pull your head out from beneath covers, let alone leave the bed. Limbs as heavy as wool soaked with water, so inert he'd have to lift your arm himself whenever he'd slip onto the mattress right next to you, to hug and press you to his chest, a useless attempt to give you some sort of solidity. He'd been there on the days sobs would exhaust your body to the point of a numbness that scared him. He'd been there on the days he'd have to gently cradle you in his arms and shower with you, whispering sweet encouragements in your ear as his hands massaged body wash and shampoo and hair masks, not wanting to miss a single step. He'd hoped his love would be enough to fill you, whenever you transformed into an empty shell.
“It’s not the love you deserve” you beg him to understand, not to forgive. Living without him is hard enough but living knowing that he hates you? It’s excruciating. Possibly the worst pain you’ve ever experienced and man, did you experience pain. “You deserve someone healthy, someone who won’t be a burden. You deserve a love that’s bright and soothing, it’s all I ever wanted for you. It’s just unfortunate that I was never able to provide”
It’s been so long since he’s seen you in person, since he’s heard your voice. He shuts his eyes for a moment and there you are, an image burned into his retina so perfectly, so limpid even behind closed eyelids. You’re always there.
“I wanted it to be you” he whispers “I wanted it to be you so badly” and he doesn’t add the I still want it to be you that’s clawing inside his chest, begging to be let out.
You smile a broken smile as you sniffle and offer a shrug. “I wanted it to be me, too. We sure were something, huh?”
We were, Megumi thinks. We are, he mentally adds, picturing all the mornings he’d still spend in bed with you, the coffee cup left untouched in his cupboard, the hydrating tangerine hand soap he keeps buying just because it reminds him of you.
He gets up carefully, not fully trusting the steadiness of his legs. There’s not an ounce of anger left to keep him pieced together, stable. There’s nothing left to ground him.
“When it gets bad, you know you can still come to me, right?” it takes everything in him to let the words out and not because he’s too proud to still direct any form of affection your way. It’s because he knows you won’t do it. You’ve made up your mind a long time ago and Megumi knows you’ve decided to figure it out on your own, without the risk of hurting someone else in the process. He’s now the last person you’ll ever go to, when it gets bad.
“I know. I will” you’re considerate enough to lie and the only victory he gets is given by the sight of your shoulders relaxing ever so slightly, as if an invisible burden has been suddenly taken off your back. How many times can a heart actually break? Why does he survive the process each time?
You wipe your cheek with your sleeve, chest heavy from the realization that you stand defeated. Megumi is still your person. Even if you’ve pushed him away, even if you’ve given up on the love of your life to protect it, he only allows himself to let go to some extent.
He registers the same, painful feeling: it’s not permanent, it’s never goodbye, and your resolve alone has certainly never been strong enough to kill whatever is left of a love so stubborn.
Sometimes Megumi finds himself missing the person he was all his life, up until you became part of it. He wonders if that version of him still exists somewhere, the one still foreign to the intensity of love, a boy content with spending his days hanging out with classmates, playing baseball after school and focusing on his exams the first years in college. Megumi misses the person who still thought love was a magical, exciting feeling sprinkled over shared strawberry ice cream dates, awkward first kisses and late night drives.
Then, just as suddenly as it comes, the feeling goes away and he wants to kick himself over it. Because yeah, it may hurt like hell right now but the time spent with you has given him so much the pain might even be worth it. If he could go back in time, he’d still choose to fall in love with you just as desperately. Even if he’s doomed, even if the tomb won’t close, even if he’ll never be who he used to be again. You’ll always be worth it.
“No matter where I am, who I am with. Come to me” Megumi insists, knuckles white in his pockets from how tight his fists are.
You offer a gentle nod and, as the front door opens and a tender voice calls for him to come back inside, he knows he’ll wait. As pointless as it is, he’ll wait.
