‧₊˚ ꒰ 𝐖𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐒𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 𝐈𝐟…
‧₊˚ ꒰ cw: Megumi x Reader :: hurt/no comfort :: angst :: established relationship :: not proofread (i never proofread💔)
a/n: was in an angst mood and cooked ts up in like 30 mins please dont slime me if its terrible…
Megumi had frowned slightly against your chest, the movement subtle but noticeable as his brows knit together, his hair falling messily into his eyes. The soft glow of his phone lit the lower half of his face, but his attention drifted the second your words registered.
He tilted his head just enough to look up at you, voice quieter now, laced with confusion. “What?”
You had been sprawled across your bed, the sheets slightly tangled beneath you both. One of your hands lazily combed through his hair, fingers catching on soft knots, while the other rested against his shoulder. He was heavy—comfortingly so.
“Would you still love me if—”
“I heard you,” he had cut in, shifting so his chin pressed into your sternum, eyes narrowing just a little. “I said ‘what’ because why would you ask that?” His grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer like he was anchoring you there. “You’d never be a worm. At least… not in this lifetime.”
There was something almost defensive in the way he said it, like the idea itself irritated him.
“I know, Megs,” you had mumbled, rolling your eyes, though there was a faint smile tugging at your lips. Your fingers stilled in his hair, absentminded now. “It was hypothetical.”
He had hummed, low and reluctant, then shifted again so he could properly look at you. His chin rested on your chest, and for a second, everything stilled.
“I would,” he had said simply.
Your chest had tightened a little at how easily it came to him.
“What about if I was a…” you had trailed off, tapping your chin, pretending to think harder than you were. “An octopus?”
A quiet laugh escaped first, then another, until his shoulders started to shake against you. He dropped his head briefly, pressing his face into your shirt as if to muffle it.
“I’d love you if you were anything,” he had managed between breaths, voice uneven with laughter. He wiped at the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand. “Even if you were an octopus.”
You had grinned, watching him, memorizing the way he looked as his shoulders shook with slight laughter.
“What if I wasn’t… animate?” you had asked after a moment, your voice quieter now.
His laughter had faded, not completely gone, but softer.
You had hesitated just long enough for the air to shift.
“…Like a rock,” you had said, barely above a whisper, a small giggle following to lighten it. “Would you still love me if I was a rock?”
He hadn’t laughed that time.
Megumi had studied your face, eyes tracing over every detail like he was trying to understand something you weren’t saying out loud. His hand came up, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your side.
“Yeah,” he had said, softer now. Certain. “Of course I would.”
“I’d find you. I’d keep you with me,” he said, his voice quieter then.
Your smile had lingered, but your eyes had flickered, something unreadable passing through them.
“Good,” you had murmured.
They don’t soften with time, don’t blur at the edges like everything else eventually does.
Megumi exhales shakily, his breath visible in the cold air as he leans forward, forehead resting against the rough surface of the gravestone. His fingers curl into the grass beneath him, damp from the morning dew, grounding himself in something—anything—that isn’t this.
“I meant it,” he mutters, voice hoarse, barely holding together. “You know I meant it.”
His hand lifts, pressing flat against the stone, as if he could feel you through it. As if there’s any part of you left that could feel him back.
“I said I’d still love you,” he continues, swallowing hard. “Even if you were a rock.”
A broken laugh escapes him, sharp and hollow.
“…Guess I got that part right.”
His head drops, resting fully against the gravestone now, eyes squeezed shut like that might stop the memories from replaying—the way you smiled, the way your fingers felt in his hair, the way your voice sounded when you asked something that wasn’t really a joke.
“I found you,” he whispers.
And for a moment, he just stays there, holding onto something that can’t hold him back, the words still echoing in his head.
a/n: ill call my uber. im sorry
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