So private, nobody knows what Megumi's girlfriend looks like.
Alternatively: You're currently watching a 10-minute video compilation of Megumi being a simp on live.
โคท II: MEGUMI: IS ONLINE โ 17+ CW โฎ โ โ fluff โธโธย crack-ish โธโธย really short pwp โธโธย aged up ! megumi
Megumi enjoys all kinds of games but found RPGs the most interesting to play. What kickstarted his streaming was Yuji, who practically begged him to join his Call of Duty stream.
Everyone who tuned in thought Megumi was insane at landing clean headshots, then immediately urged him to start streaming on his own. He only gave in when you told him it wasnโt such a bad idea, and the rest is history.
In nearly every stream he was on, his viewers would always catch glimpses of you. The underrated perk of having a boyfriend who streams? The fans who edit his livestream clips:
megumi being a simp
01:10 โโโโโโโโโโ -08:50
Megumiโs viewers were just as attentive as he was.
They noticed how Megumi visibly perked up the moment you entered his gaming room. They heard the tiny squeals you tried to suppress. It's almost always inaudible, but unmistakable.
โYou got this,โ you whisper, and Megumi smiles instantly.
Chat explodes.
[m__ki] yo stop simping you're about to die HELLO
[p4nda] save the couple content for later pls end itadori first
[salmonroe] jealousy is a disease and i have it
โWhat the hell?โ Yuji laughs, โyour whole contribution tonight is just smiling?โ
Megumi scrunches his nose as he chuckles, right as he kills Yuji on his own stream.
Yuji holds his head on his hands and yells, โBROโโ
โThatโs on you,โ Megumi sighs, leaning back. โGetting on my nerves is a personal choice.โ
Yuji inhales sharply as he reads the chat. โItadori's sleep deprived and bitchless โ Fuck you?" He continues to scroll through the chats and finds a message that makes him grin, โMegumi, someoneโs asking when the girlfriend reveal is.โ
Megumi blinks. โHuh? Why would Iโ this isnโt even that kind of channel.โ
The chat immediately spirals, urging Megumi they would love to see what his mystery girlfriend looks like.
"Yuji, don't you need to sleep?" Megumi
"But Iโ"
"Sleep?"
"Okay, okay." Yuji's already doubled over laughing. โBefore we end, Megumi, do you have something heartfelt to say to the viewers?โ
Megumi nods with a playful smirk. โNot really.โ
megumi being a simp
02:37 โโโโโโโโโ -07:23
Every so often, new subscribers would ask if he was single. Megumi always answered with that same shy smile and a short nod, the kind that already felt like an answer.
Just like now, in the middle of playing Elden Ring, another batch of new subscribers ask him the same question again.
[itadorislut] just one chance megumi
He doesnโt look away from the screen when he replies, โNo. I have a very affectionate and caring girlfriend.โ
Megumi stay silent for half a second before reading a new chat.
[today_is_todo] tf u gatekeeping your gf for?
Megumi chuckles. โI'm the jealous type.โ
megumi being a simp
03:21 โโโโโโโโโโ -06:39
Lowkey, but never a secret.
Megumi never imagined his streaming career would take off the way it did. What grounded him, even with the sudden success, was knowing how to keep his personal life private.
Still, sometimes his fondness slips through.
Megumi usually plays loud, high-energy music to stay focused, but todayโs stream is different. Cherry Wine plays softly in the background and chat notices immediately.
[bbmai] interesting song choice
โOh,โ Megumi says casually. โItโs my girlfriend's playlist.โ
[bbmai] feels personal
He smiles to himself. โI like it, though.โ
He hums under his breath while playing.
A moment later, the faint sound of the door shuffling makes him glance sideways. His lips curve instinctively as he reaches for mute. Megumi looks softer when he turns back to you.
โHey, you said you didnโt like this song,โ you whisper with an amused smile.
โI never said that,โ he shrugs. โI just didnโt get it the first play.โ
โAnd now?โ
โI get it.โ
You grin. โWow. He's a playlist connoisseur overnight.โ
He laughs softly. โPlease donโt let chat hear that.โ
You cup his face and squish his cheeks playfully. In response, he grabs your wrists gently, pressing quick kisses to your knuckles like itโs instinct. You fix his hair, nod reassuringly, then quietly slip out of the frame.
On-screen, the stream stays muted with barely any context, but chat goes feral anyway.
[mmmiwa] WHY DID HE SMILE LIKE THAT
[today_is_todo] this is emotional edging
[mxchmaroo] bro hit mute like it was muscle memory
[dastrongest] that man is IN LOVE your honor
โOkay, relax,โ he mutters. When Megumi unmutes and refocuses, the chat is still screaming. โHuh?โ
He glances at his other screen to find that his game's ended.
โShit. I just died.โ
megumi being a simp
04:05 โโโโโโโโโโ -05:55
โFuck,โ he mutters, exhaling sharply as he blows the stray hairs out of his face.
Heโs already thinking of ending the stream, except heโs only been live for an hour, when he usually goes for five.
Whatโs more off is his unusual silence. Megumiโs naturally reserved, but he usually tries to talk a little just to push himself. Today, though? Nothingโs landing, and probably the worst gameplay of his life.
[p4nda] nah megumi's NOT locked in today
[y-okkotsu] shut up let him cook
โWe're cooked,โ Yuji groans into his mic.
โI told you we shouldโve joined with Nobara!โ Megumi snaps with brows furrowed. โThis stupid game sucโโ
He cuts himself off mid-sentence the moment you peek in and press a finger to your lips. He tilts his head toward the door, and gives you an apologetic look.
โSorry, love,โ he softly says instantly with guilt flickering across his face.
You step in quietly, trying not to get picked up by the mic, but the LED lights betray you. Your shadow flashes across the wall, and it was too late for you notice it too.
You give up eventually, and proceed to walk behind him to tie his hair.
[kirarare] i just opened the stream why am i blushing and kicking my feet likeee
[heatkari] this is the kind of content that makes men shave their heads
And once again, chat loses its mind, not just because youโre there (well, that too), but because youโre wearing that white hoodie. The one Megumi wore on stream before. The sold-out one.
Megumi doesnโt even look away from the screen, so focused he lets you tie his hair into a neat little apple without question.
โThere,โ you whisper. โAll done.โ
โWoah, I needed that,โ he grins, boyish. He ducks behind cover, glances back at you. โThanks, love.โ
He rolls his shoulders, cracks his neck with a satisfied groan.
โAlright,โ he snickers, competitiveness snapping back into place. โTime to annihilate these fuckers.โ
[nkamo] suddenly considering growing my hair out again
[nkamo] nvm who am i kidding nobodyโs tying mine
[itadorislut] oh heโs back BACK
โChat, should I get a haircut?โ
โHey!โ you clutch your chest dramatically. โWhy would you do something so offensive to me?โ
He chuckles at your over exaggeration, and does the chat.
[ozawasan] someone hide the scissors from him
[junpyosh] i agree with her even if sheโs dramatic
Megumi reads the chat, amused. โTheyโre telling me to stay away from scissors.โ
You grin. โSee? Even chatโs on my side.โ
You step out of frame, but his eyes follow you instinctively.
Megumi is smiling like an idiot now, landing headshot after headshot, and climbing ranks effortlessly. All because you tied his hair back so he could see better.
As soon as the video ends, Megumi snorts. "It was that obvious, huh?"
"What? It's cute," you tilt your head and smile at him. "You're cute."
Megumi smiles to himself and plants a soft kiss at the top of your head. "I'm actually surprised that didn't make it to the edit."
You furrow your brows. "What didn't?"
"The livestream?" He says with an arched brow. "From last year?"
"Oh. That stream."
โธ DELETED CLIP โ YUJI'S LIVESTREAM
Yujiโs stream is chaotic as usual with him yelling at chat, chat yelling back, and his gameplay hanging on by a thread. On the other hand, Megumiโs window sits in the corner of the screen. All black, no cam or audio.
[junpyosh] where's megumi?
[mxchmaroo] he said bathroom break bro
[heatkari] nah but why is it taking THIS long
Yuji reads the chat and says, "Probably shitting himself to death."
Chat laughs it off.
For some odd reason, Megumi's window flickers, but Yuji doesnโt notice at first because heโs too busy reading chat.
[p4nda] AYO
[p4nda] MEGUMI'S GLITCHING
Before anyone can process it, Megumiโs feed snaps back online.
The room comes into view at a bad and slightly tilted angle. Only his empty chair is on camera, but the whole chat can hear the static mic crackling, chopped up heavy breathing, and mumbling in the background.
โโ squirt for me โ"
The audio dips, then spikes again.
โโฆIโmโโ
The feed stutters, pixels freezing for half a second before the sound punches back in.
โCumโโ
Chat is no longer typing, they are smashing their keyboards.
[y-okkotsu] ???????????????
[kirarare] WHY IS HE BACK
[m__ki] THIS FEELS ILLEGAL
[dastrongest] PAUSEโ DID HE SAY SQUIRT
At that very moment, Yujiโs soul exits his body.
His eyes widen in shock and goes completely still. He's so shocked that he immediately ends the stream without any warning.
wia says: Ws in the chat for Megumi and his secret girlfriend! [/EDIT: just cascading the theme for this series lol]
Write whatever you want. Write that incredibly niche thing that only two other people on earth will get. Write the super indulgent cliche thing that makes you kick your feet giddily. Write the angry rage story that whumps them all and makes people cry.
Whatever it is that YOU want to write. Write it. Because only YOU can.
โงโห ๊ฐ cw: Megumi x Reader :: hurt/no comfort :: angst :: established relationship :: not proofread (i never proofread๐)
a/n: was in an angst mood and cooked ts up in like 30 mins please dont slime me if its terribleโฆ
โโฆI was a worm?โ
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.ย
He tilted his head just enough to look up at you, voice quieter now, laced with confusion. โWhat?โ
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 heavyโcomfortingly so.
โWould you still love me ifโโ
โI heard you,โ he had cut in, shifting so his chin pressed into your sternum, eyes narrowing just a little. โI said โwhatโ because why would you ask that?โ His grip tightened around your waist, pulling you closer like he was anchoring you there. โYouโd never be a worm. At leastโฆ not in this lifetime.โ
There was something almost defensive in the way he said it, like the idea itself irritated him.
โI know, Megs,โ you had mumbled, rolling your eyes, though there was a faint smile tugging at your lips. Your fingers stilled in his hair, absentminded now. โIt was hypothetical.โ
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.
โI would,โ he had said simply.
Your chest had tightened a little at how easily it came to him.
โWhat about if I was aโฆโ you had trailed off, tapping your chin, pretending to think harder than you were. โAn octopus?โ
That had broken him.
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.
โIโd love you if you were anything,โ he had managed between breaths, voice uneven with laughter. He wiped at the corners of his eyes with the back of his hand. โEven if you were an octopus.โ
You had grinned, watching him, memorizing the way he looked as his shoulders shook with slight laughter.
โWhat if I wasnโtโฆ animate?โ you had asked after a moment, your voice quieter now.
His laughter had faded, not completely gone, but softer.ย
โLike what?โ
You had hesitated just long enough for the air to shift.
โโฆLike a rock,โ you had said, barely above a whisper, a small giggle following to lighten it. โWould you still love me if I was a rock?โ
He hadnโt laughed that time.
Megumi had studied your face, eyes tracing over every detail like he was trying to understand something you werenโt saying out loud. His hand came up, thumb brushing absentmindedly against your side.
โYeah,โ he had said, softer now. Certain. โOf course I would.โ
There had been a pause.
โIโd find you. Iโd keep you with me,โ he said, his voice quieter then.
Your smile had lingered, but your eyes had flickered, something unreadable passing through them.
โGood,โ you had murmured.
The words donโt fade.
They donโt soften with time, donโt blur at the edges like everything else eventually does.
They stay.
Of course I would.
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 somethingโanythingโthat isnโt this.
The world is too quiet.
Too still.
โI meant it,โ he mutters, voice hoarse, barely holding together. โYou know I meant it.โ
His hand lifts, pressing flat against the stone, as if he could feel you through it. As if thereโs any part of you left that could feel him back.
โI said Iโd still love you,โ he continues, swallowing hard. โEven if you were a rock.โ
A broken laugh escapes him, sharp and hollow.
โโฆGuess I got that part right.โ
His head drops, resting fully against the gravestone now, eyes squeezed shut like that might stop the memories from replayingโthe way you smiled, the way your fingers felt in his hair, the way your voice sounded when you asked something that wasnโt really a joke.
โI found you,โ he whispers.
And for a moment, he just stays there, holding onto something that canโt hold him back, the words still echoing in his head.
[ SYNOPSIS ] โ You try to be the "perfect" partner to Megumi by hiding your own needs and pain so you wouldnโt be a nuisance. This habit becomes dangerous when you get badly hurt on a mission and lie about it, leading to a tearful confrontation when he finds you bleeding in secret. w.c: 4.8k
[ PAIRING ] โ megumi fushiguro x people pleaser!reader
[ TAGS ] โ gn!reader, established relationship, canon compliant (?), hidden injury, blood, reassurance, hurt/comfort, use of [Name] once, megumi is a sweetheart as usual. Lmk if I missed anything! art by: @/hong_nock
โ"You wouldn't mind taking care of these mission reports for me, would you? You're a lifesaver!"
โSatoru Gojo didn't even pause to wait for an answer, dropping a stack of heavily redacted, coffee-stained files onto your already cluttered desk. His iconic blindfold was pushed up, a devastatingly charming smile plastered across his faceโthe kind of smile that made it entirely impossible for anyone to refuse him.
โYour head was pounding. A dull, rhythmic thud echoed right behind your eyes, a souvenir from a consecutive string of sleepless nights. You had your own reports to file, a history exam to help Yuji study for, and Nobara had explicitly told you to be ready in twenty minutes to carry her bags through Shibuya. Your throat tightened, the word no forming perfectly on your tongue.
It was right there. All you had to do was push it past your teeth.
โ"Of course, Sensei," you heard yourself say, the voice sounding entirely detached from your own body. "I'll have them on Principal Yaga's desk by three."
โ"Knew I could count on you!" He gave you a cheerful salute and vanished in a blur of limitless space, leaving you staring at the mountain of paperwork. You swallowed the sigh building in your chest, picked up your pen, and started writing.
This was simply how you survived. You made yourself a skeleton key, filing down your own edges, your own needs, and your own exhaustion until you perfectly fit the lock of whatever anyone else required. If you were useful, if you were accommodating, if you smoothed out the friction in the lives of the people around you, they would never look at you and decide you were too much trouble to keep around, that's how it should be, right?
โBut nowhere was this exhausting performance more prevalent than in your relationship with Megumi Fushiguro.
Megumi with his quiet nature, Megumi with his storm-clouded eyes, Megumi who shouldered so muchโ with Tsumiki's curse, with the expectations of having a powerful cursed technique, Megumi who you were so so so afraid of losing.
You still have a hard time believing you two are dating. The way it happened was so casual it almost felt unreal.
It wasnโt a grand confession, just a quiet surrender to everything that made you fall for him. The hallway was still buzzing with leftover energy from Yujiโs and Nobaraโs laughter, but at your door, the silence felt heavy. Megumi lingered, hands shoved in his pockets, before his fingers grazed your wrist as you were about open the door. When he leaned in, it was with the soft gentleness of someone who had finally found a place to let his guard down. The kiss was brief, but you both knew exactly where you stood in each other's lives.
Yet, being his partner did not cure your affliction; it magnified it even further. You treated your relationship like fragile glass sculpture you had to constantly balance on your fingertips. You altered your entire existence to fit the mold of what you assumed was his ideal, low-maintenance partner.
You drank your tea unsweetened because he preferred bitter things, forcing the astringent liquid down your throat every morning while secretly craving sugar. You slept rigidly on the absolute edge of his mattress, your muscles cramping by dawn, just to ensure he had the lionโs share of the blankets. When he was exhausted from a mission, you swallowed your own awful, lingering trauma from the day, hiding your bruises beneath long sleeves and painting a bright, serene smile on your face so you wouldnโt add to his mental load.
And Megumi knew.
He was incredibly perceptive, and the forced perfection of your behavior was beginning to wear on him like coarse grit against his skin. He saw the way your hands shook when you agreed to take a double patrol shift. He noticed the barely perceptible flinch when he absentmindedly turned the television to a channel you secretly hated, only for you to vehemently agree that it was a great program to watch. It frustrated him.
Megumi loved you, he loved you so much it pained him, but he felt like he was dating a shadow, only moving when he did. And he did not know how to bring it up without fearing for what you would do.
The mission was supposed to be a standard Grade 2 curse eradication in an abandoned subway terminal. It was a joint assignment for the two of you, a rare opportunity to work together. But the intelligence from the auxiliary managers was flawed, as it so often was. The curse was a Grade 1, a massive, grotesque amalgamation of rusted metal and rotting flesh that moved with terrifying speed.
The battle was chaotic in the claustrophobic underground tunnels. Dust choked the air, illuminated only by the flickering, dying fluorescent lights overhead. Megumi had summoned Nue to provide aerial attacks, the electrical discharge illuminating the grim determination on his face. You were covering his blind spots, your own cursed energy manifesting in sharp and precise strikes.
It happened in a fraction of a second. The curse, recognizing Megumi as the greater threat, lunged toward him with a massive, scythe-like appendage. Megumi was mid-incantation, his hands clasped together, momentarily vulnerable.
Your body moved before your conscious mind could register the decision. The ingrained instinct to protect, to serve, to sacrifice, propelled you forward. You shoved Megumi hard, knocking him out of the trajectory of the blade.
The impact was deafening. The rusted metal sliced through the air and tore into your left side, ripping through your uniform and biting deep into the flesh of your waist. The agony was instantaneous, a blinding flare of white-hot pain that stole the oxygen from your lungs. You hit the concrete floor hard, the taste of copper flooding your mouth.
"Nue!" Megumi roared, his voice cracking with a rare, raw panic. The shikigami descended in a blinding flash of lightning, obliterating the curse in a concussive shockwave of cursed energy.
The dust settled, heavy and silent.
Megumi was beside you in an instant, his breathing ragged, his hands hovering over you as if afraid that touching you would shatter you completely. "Are you alright? Where did it hit you?" His eyes were wide, the usual cold indifference entirely stripped away, revealing the terrified boy underneath.
The pain in your side was excruciating, a throbbing, burning sensation that suggested the curseโs rusted blade had been laced with some kind of venomous energy. Blood was already soaking the fabric of your shirt, hot and sticky against your skin. You needed Shoko. You needed a stretcher.
But as you looked up into Megumiโs panic-stricken eyes, the old, familiar terror clawed at your throat. You caused this panic. You are making him worry. You ruined the mission. You are a burden.
The people pleaser within you seized the reins of your vocal cords.
You forced the agony down, burying it beneath a mountain of sheer, desperate willpower. You pushed yourself up on trembling arms, twisting your torso to hide the worst of the bleeding from his line of sight. You plastered on a smile that felt like it might crack your face in two.
"I'm fine," you lied, your voice painfully steady. "It just grazed me. I knocked the wind out of myself when I fell."
Megumi frowned, his dark brows knitting together in suspicion. He reached out to inspect your side, but you swiftly shifted away, standing up on shaking legs. The world tilted dangerously, black spots dancing in your peripheral vision, but you dug your nails into your palms to ground yourself.
"I swear, Megumi. I'm okay. Let's just report and go home. I'm exhausted." You kept your tone light, almost apologetic. "I'm sorry I got in your way. I should have been more careful."
The apology tasted vile. You had saved his life, yet you were apologizing for being in the way.
Megumi stared at you for a long, agonizing moment. The tension radiating from him was evident, his jaw clenched so tight a muscle ticked in his cheek. He knew you were hiding something. He could smell the blood. But your adamant refusal to acknowledge the danger built a wall between you that he didn't know how to breach, yet he trusted your judgment, he trusted that you would tell him if the injury was serious.
"Fine," he muttered, his voice dropping an octave, thick with frustration and repressed anxiety. He recalled his shikigami, the shadows swallowing Nue whole. "Let's go."
The car ride back to the college was nothing less than silent torture. You sat pressed against the passenger door, your arms wrapped tightly around your waist, secretly applying pressure to the wound that was continuously oozing blood. Every bump in the road sent a jolt of agony up your spine, but you bit the inside of your cheek until it bled rather than make a single sound. Ijichi drove in stony silence, his knuckles white on the steering wheel, every now and then apologising for the mistake in the mission logs, and then expressing his relief at your well-being.
By the time you reached the dormitories, you were running purely on adrenaline and the need to lock yourself in your bathroom before you collapsed.
"I'm going to take a shower!" you announced the moment you stepped into his room, your voice breathy and strained. You didn't wait for a response, practically fleeing into the adjoining bathroom and closing the door behind you.
The moment it was locked, the facade crumbled. Your knees gave out, and you slumped against the cold tile door, an agonizing gasp escaping your lips. You peeled off your ruined jacket and the blood-soaked shirt beneath it. The wound was horrific. An angry tear across your oblique, the edges blackened with residual cursed energy. It was deep, bleeding sluggishly but persistently.
Tears of pain and exhaustion finally spilled over your eyelashes, tracing hot paths down your dust-streaked cheeks. You had to clean it. You had to wrap it. You couldn't bother Shoko this late; she had been pulling all-nighters all week. You couldn't bother Megumi; he was already mad at you.
You dragged yourself to the sink, turning on the faucet. You grabbed a washcloth, soaked it in hot water, and pressed it against the wound.
A choked, pathetic sob tore from your throat. The pain was blinding, a sickening wave of nausea crashing over you. You squeezed your eyes shut, your entire body trembling violently as you tried to scrub away the blackened, infected tissue.
Click.
You froze. The sound of the lock turning from the outside. You had forgotten Megumi kept a spare key on the upper frame of the door for emergencies.
The door swung open, revealing Megumi standing in the threshold. He had changed out of his uniform, wearing only a loose t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked exhausted.
But whatever exhaustion he felt vanished the instant his eyes landed on you.
He took in the scene in a fraction of a second: your pale, shivering form hunched over the sink, the blood-soaked washcloth in your trembling hand, and the gruesome, gaping wound on your side that was currently dripping crimson onto the pristine white tiles.
The air in the bathroom seemed to drop ten degrees. The shadows in the corners of the room physically writhed, reacting to the sudden, violent spike in his cursed energy.
"What," Megumi breathed, his voice barely a whisper, yet it resonated with the force of an earthquake, "is that."
Panic, cold and sharp, flooded your veins. You scrambled to cover the wound with your arm, backing away from him like a cornered animal, your eyes wide and terrified.
"It's nothing!" you stammered, the words tumbling out of your mouth in a desperate rush. "I was just cleaning it. It looks worse than it is, Megumi, I promise. I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to make a mess. I'll clean the floor, justโ"
"Stop."
The command cracked through the air like a whip. Megumi stepped into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind him. His face was a mask of cold fury, but his eyesโhis deep, beautiful, stormy eyesโwere wide with an emotion that looked terrifyingly like devastation.
He crossed the small space in two strides, grabbing your wrists. His grip was firm, inescapable, but agonizingly gentle as he pulled your hands away from your side. He sucked in a sharp breath through his teeth as he finally got a clear look at the injury.
"You call this a graze?" he demanded, his voice shaking with a terrifying, suppressed rage. "It's entirely infected with cursed energy. You need reverse cursed technique, immediately. Why didn't you tell me? Why didn't you say anything in the tunnel?"
Your chest heaved as you struggled to pull oxygen into your lungs. The panic was taking over, suffocating you. You were trapped. You had failed. You had made him angry. You had become the burden you fought so hard not to be.
"IโI didn't want to worry you," you choked out, fresh tears welling in your eyes. "You were already stressed about the mission being a Grade 1. I didn't want to slow us down. I'm sorry, Megumi. I'm so, so sorry. Please don't be mad. I can fix it, I'll go to Shoko right now, you don't have to deal with thisโ"
"Stop apologizing!" Megumi yelled.
You flinched violently, your shoulders instantly hiking up to your ears, your head bowing in an automatic posture of submission. The silence that followed his shout was deafening, broken only by your ragged, hyperventilating breaths and the steady drip, drip, drip of blood hitting the floor.
Megumi stared at your cowering form, the anger draining out of him in a rush, leaving behind a profound, hollow ache in his chest. He realized, with a horrifying clarity, that you were not flinching because of the pain of your wound. You were flinching because of him.
He dropped your wrists as if they burned him, taking a step back, his hands taking place behind his neck.
"Why do you do this?" he asked, his voice cracking, the anger replaced by a desperate, agonizing confusion. "Why do you lie to me? Why do you let yourself bleed out in a bathroom rather than ask me for help? Am I that unapproachable? Am I that terrible of a boyfriend that you think I would be annoyed by you almost dying?"
"No!" you cried, your voice breaking, the absolute terror of him thinking he was at fault tearing at your heart. "No, Megumi, you're perfect. You're the best thing that ever happened to me. It's not you, it's me. I'm justโฆ I'm just trying to be good. I'm trying to be easy. I don't want to be difficult."
"Easy?" Megumi repeated, the word sounding foreign and ugly in his mouth. He stepped forward again, crowding you against the edge of the sink, his hands gripping the porcelain on either side of your waist, trapping you in. He didn't touch you, but his presence was demanding your full attention.
"You think I want you to be 'easy'?" he pressed, his eyes searching yours frantically, demanding an honesty you didn't know how to give. "I want you to be honest! I want you to tell me when you are hurt so I can take care of you!"
You shook your head furiously, the tears flowing freely now, hot and unrelenting. Your entire body was trembling, your heart hammering against your ribs, threatening to break. You were breaking apart, the foundation of your entire coping mechanism crumbling beneath his gaze.
"You say that now," you sobbed, the ugly, deeply buried truth finally clawing its way up your throat, bitter and raw. "You say that now, but you don't know. You already have so much on your plate, I don't want to make it worse. If I don't do it, you will hate me, I don't want you to hate me."
The confession hung in the humid air of the bathroom, heavy and devastating.
You squeezed your eyes shut, waiting for the blow. Waiting for the agreement. Waiting for him to step back, to look at you with cold realization, and walk out the door. You had finally revealed the ugly, pathetic core of your soul. You were a coward, terrified of abandonment, buying love with servitude.
But the silence stretched. And then, you felt it.
The gentle, hesitant brush of his knuckles against your tear-soaked cheek.
Your eyes flew open. Megumi was looking at you with an expression that shattered your heart into a million irreparable pieces. It wasn't pity. It wasn't disgust, but heartbreak. His eyes were glassy, his lips parted as he struggled to find words that could possibly combat the magnitude of your self-hatred.
Slowly, carefully, as if approaching a wild, frightened animal, Megumi reached out. He didn't grab your wrists this time. He slid his arms around your waist, mindful of the gaping wound on your side, and pulled you flush against his chest.
He buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breath ghosting over your skin.
"You are so stupid," he whispered, the words muffled against your skin, devoid of any malice, dripping only with a desperate, heavy sorrow. "You are an incredible person, so beautiful, so incredible, but stupid."
You stiffened, your hands hovering uselessly in the air, terrified to touch him, terrified to ruin this moment. But Megumi just held you tighter, his strong arms wrapping around you like a shield against the very demons inside your own head.
"Listen to me," he murmured, his voice trembling slightly. He pulled back just enough to force you to look him in the eye. The intensity of his gaze pinned you in place."Stop acting like your existence doesn't matter, it matters to me. You don't get to decide that you're expendable."
You let out a choked gasp, your hands finally, tentatively coming to rest against his chest, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt like your life depended on it.
"I care about you, so much," Megumi continued, his voice dropping into that serious, unwavering tone he used when making vows. "I care about protecting the people who matter to me. And youโฆ you are at the very top of that list. If you are hurt, my world stops. If you are in pain, I am in pain. Hiding your suffering from me doesn't protect me; it destroys me."
He raised a hand, his thumb gently wiping away the steady stream of tears falling from your eyes. His touch was warm, grounding.
"You are not a burden," he said, enunciating each word with fierce, desperate clarity. "And I am begging you, pleaseโฆ let me take care of you. Let me be the one who carries the weight for a while. You don't have to earn your place beside me by bleeding in silence. In fact, you don't have to do anything but be here."
The dam broke.
You collapsed against him, your legs finally giving out, and he caught you effortlessly, sinking to the bathroom floor with you held securely in his arms.
You wept. You wailed. It was an ugly, guttural, heart-wrenching sound that tore from the very depths of your soul. You buried your face in his chest, clutching at him desperately, crying for the pain in your side, crying for the exhaustion in your bones, crying for the terrified little child inside you who had spent their whole life terrified of being left behind.
Megumi didn't shush you. He didn't tell you to calm down. He sat on the cold tile floor amidst the blood and the discarded bandages, holding you. He rocked you slowly, one hand gently stroking your hair, the other resting firmly against your back. He let you fall apart completely, creating a safe, impenetrable fortress within his arms where you were finally allowed to be shattered, loud, and inconvenient.
Hours seemed to pass before the sobs finally subsided into heavy, exhausted hiccups. Your throat was raw, your eyes swollen and burning. The adrenaline had completely left your system, leaving you weak and painfully aware of the throbbing agony in your side.
You shifted slightly in his lap, sniffing pathetically. Megumi immediately loosened his grip, looking down at you with a softness that made your chest ache.
"Are you done?" he asked quietly, a tiny, sad smile playing at the corners of his mouth.
You nodded numbly, wiping your nose with the back of your hand. "I ruined your shirt," you rasped, noticing the dark stains of your tears and blood on the grey fabric.
"I don't care about the shirt," Megumi said softly. He gently shifted you off his lap, standing up and reaching down to help you to your feet. You swayed dangerously, the blood loss finally catching up to you. He caught you around the waist, easily supporting your weight.
"Come on," he murmured, his voice gentle but brook-no-argument firm. "We are going to Shoko. Right now."
The instinct to protest flared up instantly. It's 3 AM. She's sleeping. I can just bandage it tight. But as you looked up at Megumi, at the deep circles under his eyes and the lingering terror in his posture, the words died in your throat.
You swallowed hard, the word feeling foreign and incredibly heavy on your tongue.
"Okay."
Megumi let out a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours. He didn't say anything, but the relief in his eyes was blinding. He practically carried you down the silent, moonlit hallways to the infirmary.
Shoko was awake, smoking a cigarette out the window when Megumi kicked the infirmary door open. She took one look at Megumiโs pale face and the blood soaking your side and immediately crushed the cigarette, immediately tending to you.
The process of healing was agonizing. Shokoโs reverse cursed technique was a miracle, but extracting the foreign cursed energy from the wound before healing the flesh was a torturous sensation. You lay on the sterile white cot, your teeth gritted, a cold sweat breaking out across your forehead.
Through it all, Megumi sat beside the bed. He held your hand in both of his, his grip tight enough to bruise, grounding you in reality while the pain threatened to pull you under. He didn't look away, even when the wound looked its most gruesome. He stayed exactly where he promised he would be.
When it was finally over, and the flesh was knit cleanly together leaving only an angry pink scar, exhaustion hit you like a physical blow. Shoko handed you a clean t-shirt and kicked you both out, muttering something about needing sleep.
The walk back to Megumiโs dorm was slow. You leaned heavily against him, your body utterly drained. You felt hollowed out, incredibly fragile, like a glass blown too thin.
When you reached his room, he didn't turn on the overhead lights. He guided you gently to the bed, pulling back the heavy comforter. You crawled in automatically, immediately scooting to the absolute edge of the mattress, curling into a tight ball. It was muscle memory at this point.
Megumi stood at the edge of the bed, watching you in the dim moonlight filtering through the blinds. He sighed, a heavy, exhausted sound. He kicked off his shoes, discarded his ruined shirt, and climbed into the bed.
But he didn't lie down on his side.
Instead, he moved to the center of the mattress. He reached out, grabbing you gently by the hips, and physically dragged you away from the edge, pulling you across the sheets until you were flush against him in the very middle of the bed.
You gasped softly in surprise, stiffening. "Megumiโ"
"Stop," he murmured, his voice thick with sleep. He wrapped his arms tightly around you, burying his face in your hair. He tangled his legs with yours, pinning you to him, ensuring there was no physical way for you to retreat to the cold periphery. "You are exactly where you belong. Take up the whole bed if you want. Kick me out if you want. But stop going all the way there."
You lay rigid in his arms for a long moment, your brain struggling to process the sensation of being held so securely, of being allowed to take up space without apologizing for it. The warmth of his body seeped into your cold skin. His heartbeat thudded steadily against your back, a rhythmic, grounding lullaby.
Slowly, agonizingly slowly, you forced your muscles to uncoil. You let out a long, shaky breath, letting your weight sink fully into his embrace. You closed your eyes, his scent surrounding you, pulling you down into a deep, dreamless sleep.
The next morning, you woke to the smell of brewing coffee and the sound of birds chirping outside the window. The sunlight streaming into the room felt unnervingly bright.
You sat up slowly, testing the newly healed skin on your side. It twinged slightly, a dull ache, but the agonizing burn was gone. You looked around the room. You were alone in the bed, the covers tangled around your waist. You were dead center in the mattress.
The door to the small kitchenette opened, and Megumi stepped in, carrying two mugs. He looked rested, his dark hair a chaotic mess, his eyes softer than you had seen them in months.
He walked over to the bed and handed you a mug.
"Morning," he mumbled quietly, sitting on the edge of the mattress near your feet.
"Morning," you replied softly, your voice still gravelly from crying the night before. You wrapped both hands around the warm ceramic mug, seeking comfort in the heat. You brought it to your lips, taking a tentative sip.
You immediately paused, your brow furrowing in confusion.
It wasn't black coffee. It wasn't the bitter, acidic brew he drank every morning. It was warm milk, steeped heavily with a sweet, floral chamomile tea, and generously laced with honey. It was incredibly sweet. It was exactly what you actually liked.
You lowered the mug, staring at the golden liquid, a sudden lump forming in your throat. You looked up at Megumi. He was watching you carefully, his dark eyes analyzing your reaction.
"You didn't make coffee," you whispered, stating the obvious.
Megumi looked down at his own mug, taking a sip of the black sludge he preferred. "I know you hate it," he said simply, not meeting your eyes. A faint, barely perceptible pink dusted the tips of his ears. "I noticed a while ago. You always grimace when you take the first sip. And you always buy that sweet stuff when we go to the convenience store, but you never drink it around me."
Your breath hitched. He had noticed. He had known, and he had been waiting for you to say something.
He reached out, his long fingers gently wrapping around your ankle over the blankets.
"I'm not asking you to change everything in one day," Megumi continued, his voice quiet, steady, and infinitely patient. "I know it's a habit. I know you're terrified. But I am asking you to try. With me. Just with me."
He paused, a tiny, teasing glint momentarily breaking through his stoic demeanor. "For example. I was thinking of making eggs for breakfast. But I know you like pancakes, even though you always say eggs are fine. So. What do you want for breakfast?"
It was a test. A small, seemingly insignificant question, but between the two of you, it carried the weight of the world.
The instinct rose up instantly. Eggs are easier for him to make. He likes eggs. Tell him eggs. The familiar panic fluttered in your chest, the fear of demanding too much, of being an inconvenience.
You opened your mouth, the word 'eggs' forming on your lips.
But you stopped. You looked down at the sweet, warm tea in your hands, the tea he had made specifically for you, acknowledging your preferences, honoring your comfort. You looked at the hand resting gently on your ankle, grounding you, keeping you safe. You remembered the desperate way he had held you on the bloody bathroom floor, demanding that you exist loudly.
You closed your mouth. You took a deep breath, fighting the tremor in your voice. You forced yourself to meet his gaze directly.
"Iโฆ" you started, your voice barely above a whisper. You cleared your throat, trying again. "I would really like pancakes, Megumi. If that's okay?"
The silence in the room stretched for a single, terrifying second. You braced yourself for a sigh, a roll of the eyes, a sign of annoyance that you had requested the more difficult option.
Instead, Megumiโs face broke into a smile. It wasn't his usual smirk, or a polite curve of the lips. It was a genuine, breathtakingly soft smile that reached his eyes, illuminating his features and making your heart stutter in your chest.
He stood up, taking his mug of bitter coffee with him.
"Pancakes it is," he said softly, turning back toward the kitchen. He paused at the door, looking over his shoulder at you, his eyes filled with a certain amount of serenity that was so rare for megumi.
"And [Name]?"
You looked up, your hands gripping the mug tightly. "Yeah?"
"It's more than okay."
ยฉ belchyra. All rights reserved. Do not republish, translate, steal, or feed my work to AI.
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