warnings: mention of death, angst, sadness ig
he'd come back... wouldn't he?
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it was three in the morning.
you were sitting at the dining table of your boyfriend’s apartment, the edge of the wood biting into your elbows as you gripped your head in your hands, attempting to preserve a semblance of your remaining sanity.
your phone lay beside you, the screen open on your boyfriends chats. you’d been glancing over every couple minutes for the last four hours, only to be met with your own messages housing the same double ticks that remained a mocking grey.
hihi megs, i finished early today 🥳 text me when you’re gonna finish training so I can start w dinnerr - I’ll make that spicy pasta you like.
ask yuuji and nobara if they want some for lunch tmmrw.
you’re usually done by now… everything ok? call me when you see this.
by 19:30, megumi’s silence had been starting to bother you. you’d tried to convince yourself it was probably nothing; his phone might’ve died (expect you knew megumi always carried around a charger with him so he could always answer you) or gojo must have kept him in later for some extra work.
still, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off - he’d never intentionally leave you on delivered for so long, let alone after you’d triple texted.
he hadn’t had any missions coming up either; the two of you had been sent out to tackle a group of grade 2 curses not two days ago, and you doubted gojo would send megumi out again so soon.
everything’s probably alright, he’s probably just lost his phone at most , right?
five minutes later, a panicked call to ijichi revealed that everything was in fact, not alright.
the older man had, albeit reluctantly, revealed that megumi was not on school grounds at all, and hadn’t attended any lessons after twelve pm
the words had rung in your ears.
more than seven hours for anything, absolutely anything to have happened to the shikigamj user.
further pressing the stuttering man had forced him to disclose their prediction - that megumi had left, alone, to exorcise a curse revealed to be possibly related to his sisters condition.
the details had blurred together as the blood pounding through your head drowned out ijichi’s droning.
you’d hung up after that, hands trembling as you opened megumi’s chat again, typing out a shaky message:
ijichi told me what you’re doing
megumi, god where are you, why the fuck would you go alone
call me when you can, please please please be ok
you’d called countless times already, all going into voice mail, each ring filling you with sinking dread.
you knew your boyfriend was strong. undeniably so, having inherited the strongest technique of the Zenin Clan. but you also knew he wouldn’t hesitate once to sacrifice himself if it meant saving someone he deemed worthy. he chose who he saved, who he saw as deserving of a chance at happiness in this oh so unfair world.
you knew tsumiki ranked at the top of that list.
you knew sacrifice was one of the bitter truths of being a jujutsu sorceries; loss came as an inescapable stipulation. but you’d hoped that with megumi’s specific outlook on sacrifice, he’d be part of the few that survived longer; a selfish, self indulgent thought you hated yourself for. in an existence where the shadow of death loomed over every waking hour, you’d found yourself returning to the momentary relief the notion provided.
megumi was strong yes, but his strength extended, unfortunately, into his perspective.
if there was a way for him to save tsumiki, he would lay down his life in a heartbeat. he would die, so she could live:
because the good in her blinded him to any of the good in himself - he didn’t see himself as part of the few who deserved that chance at fairness.
you wondered where you lay on that spectrum, in his eyes. you wondered if he’d even considered what the loss of him would do to the good in you. you wondered if he was willing to kill the part of him inside you for the sake of the ‘good’.
tears blurred your vision.
he’s going to come back, you told yourself, because he had to.
he wouldn’t leave you like this.
he can’t leave you like this.
you’re filled with sudden rage.
you knew this was the job of a jujutsu sorcerer; you knew this all too well, constantly risking their own lives so the blissfully unaware could safely remain that way.
every moment you spent with him could be your last, and god, you knew that. the thought haunted you in the quiet hours of the night, when you had nothing but your own twisted mind for company.
god, he could’ve taken you, could have told you at the very least.
you could’ve helped, you could’ve found out more about the curse, hell, you would’ve fought it with him, anything but being stuck idle and helpless, a pathetic, crying mess.
he could be bleeding out, alone, while you were sitting here, in an apartment filled with the ghosts of your memories together; wisps passing through you, reminding you of that should he not return, they would be all you have left of him.
angry tears dropped onto your phone screen as your eyes glazed over the last message you’d sent.
you stared at the message till the screen went black.
you went to open your phone again, only to be met with your lockscreen, a selfie of you and megumi with the faces of kuro and shiro squished between the two of you.
you remembered the day with painful clarity; you’d decided that you simply did not have enough photos of the four of you together and had decided that 11pm on a random wednesday night was the perfect time for your impromptu photoshoot.
megumi and you had spent almost half an hour positioning the dogs to sit still between you for long enough for you to snap enough photos together.
he’d grumbled about it, but you’d caught him smiling at his phone afterwards enough times to know the struggle had been worth it.
you’re too caught up in the memories to hear the door creak open. when you do notice however, you turn to the door fast enough to give yourself whiplash.
megumi stands in the doorway.
your megumi stands in the doorway.
slightly ruffed up, split lip, bandaged forearm (he must have been to see shoko before he came home), painfully exhausted but he’s fine .
your relief is palpable, and you almost collapse into the table, before you’re flooded with a less welcome emotion.
he hasn’t met your eyes yet, still fiddling with his grimy shoes. his shoulders hunched and taut with tension, undoubtedly the lingering effects of his solitary mission.
you consider suppressing your anger for his sake; he looked so tired, it made your heart ache.
but the last six hours had been hell for you too. you’d lost count of the number of times you’d had to physically pinch yourself to hold back from spiraling into the countless possibilities that could have befallen him, and to stop you from even considering how you were supposed to continue on without him.
you stood up suddenly, almost toppling over your chair. the sudden motion involuntarily forced him to turn his gaze onto your shaking frame.
for a second, none of you spoke.
your eyes met, and you felt you could descend into tears right there. he held your gaze with a sort of delicate worry that made you want to throw yourself into his arms, but you met him with steely glare.
you were the first to break the silence.
his eyes widened, and his shoulders tensed further; whatever response he’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this .
“ten hours, it’s been ten goddamn hours, and you didn’t think to call me? send me a message?”
“i had to find out from the fucking school manage, that my boyfriend has run off to god knows where to fight a god knows what grade cursed spirit that might potentially save his sister.”
his teeth clenched at the mention of tsumiki; you were right, he’d taken off on impulse, and the curse had turned out to have barely changed tsumiki’s condition.
in other words, he’d almost died fighting a special grade for no reason.
he didn’t respond, but his silence seemed to further fuel your anger.
“and on top of all that, you decide to go alone. you don’t tell me, fine, but why the fuck would you go fight something you have no knowledge on, by yourself. you could’ve told itadori, kugisaki, inumaki you could’ve fucking told panda and they would’ve come with you.”
you were shaking furiously at this point, but you were nowhere near finished. you were running on purely the adrenaline, worry and tears of the past hours, to the point that the words coming out of your mouth weren’t your own.
you just wanted him to feel, feel even an ounce of the turmoil of emotions you’d been drowning in, in his absence.
“i don’t know what hero complex you’ve developed fushiguro, but it’s going to get you killed.”
he flinched at the use of his last name, but your words struck something darker within him.
you weren’t being fair, and you knew it. throughout his time at jujitsu tech, he’d stuck by the fact that he’s not a hero, and he never will be. he’s always chosen who he saves, and he’s always been the furthest from the suicidal martyr you just made him out to be.
he took a breath, and when his eyes met yours again, you knew you’d crossed a line. but it seemed you were both beyond caring.
“you knew what you were getting into when you joined the school [name]” he said, his voice quiet, and deceptively stable.
“you knew what being a jujutsu sorcerer entails. you knew what getting with me would entail, but you still chose this.”
“nobody made you choose this. you weren’t forced into this.”
the words weren’t said, but they hung heavy between the two of you.
“it’s not my fault you’ve suddenly decided that a sorcerer’s life is too much for you.“
it’s your turn to flinch.
“oh so you think me wanting to make sure you come back is too much? me wanting to make sure you’re not dead, is too much? you know damn well that had it been me who’d run off on a suicide mission, you’d probably have summoned mahoraga by now.”
megumi ran his hand through his hair, letting out an frustrated sigh, as if you were the one being unreasonable. but in truth, he knew you weren’t wrong.
had you been the one gone missing, he would’ve caused a lot more havoc than the current storm brewing in his apartment.
“i don’t care if the mission fails, i’ll always only care if it means you can come back home to me. “
“just because you have the easy way out of killing yourself to compelte a mission, doesn’t mean you get to use that to completely dismiss me”
you regretted the words as they left your mouth.
nothing about his life had ever been easy, and nothing ever would be.
you opened your mouth to speak but he beat you to it, barking out a deranged laugh.
“you know what,” he said finally, eyes two dark dead orbs.
you could sense the words that would come after before he said them.
“maybe this isn’t working. maybe it’s better if you find someone who wasn’t dealt such an easy hand.”
you felt something crack within you, as he turned to leave, walking past you to his room as he left you broken, in his kitchen.
he regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth, of course he didn’t mean them. all his life, he’d been left behind by those he trusted, those who were supposed to care for him the most. first his parents, then his sister - and he’d be damned if he let you go now.
you, you were something else entirely. you were so special he hardly thought he deserved you.
you, who made sure his supply of energy drinks were always stacked because you knew he couldn’t stand the taste of any other brand.
you, who would play with his hair for hours on end, determined to tame the spikes into something more presentable.
you, who would hold him in the darkest hours of the night, crying with him over all all the darkest parts of him he’d never let see the light of day.
no, he’d never let you go, not without a fight. and certainly not over something like this. you both knew that.
but amidst the heightened emotions, and the emotions that flew like sparks between you, it seemed easy to bury that truth under all the hurt you both carried on your shoulders.
so he’d turned on his heel, dragging himself to his bedroom with a newfound determination, as you watched him, bleary eyed, and a suppressed sob building up in your throat that you refused to let him hear.
he stopped at the doorway, and you hoped, despite yourself, that he’d turn back and open his arms to you, apologize, say something, anything but end the night like this.
but that would’ve been too easy, and the universe would never be so kind.
“maybe take the guest bedroom tonight.”
and the door shut, not aggressively slammed, but with a quiet click, measured and reserved like he always was, like your feelings, your worries meant nothing, did nothing to disrupt him out of his routine. like you were nothing to him.
your vision was so blurred you could barely see as you stumbled to the spare bedroom opposite his, hand clasped over your mouth as you choked down the sound of absolute despair that threatened to force itself out of you.
your door shut with more force than necessary; you’d never been much good at hiding your feelings, and your back slid down the shut door, you’re face in your hands as you finally, finally let yourself cry.
wrangled sobs shaking your entire frame; you didn’t know how long you’d sat there, time having lost its meaning after endless hours of watching the door, willing it to open and grant you the relief of seeing the one individual you cared for the most, standing there, safe and alive.
and now he was just a room away, yet you were consumed with nothing but painful grief.
minutes must have turned to hours, before the exhaustion of the day finally won, and a disturbed sleep finally enfolded you.
you’re standing there, a white tiled room, a room you wished you’d never have to step foot into.
beside you stands shoko, you’re other side stands gojo. and in front of you… god no …in front of you lies a body.
the white sheet pulled up to his neck is soaked red, the face is scratched, blood still glistening from the gaping gash at the hairline.
black hair crusted with red, face emotionless, but still so, so beautiful, the face you’d held in your hands so many times, lips you’d kissed just this morning, the eyes that had regarded you like you were the most precious gift, now closed forever.
he’d said he’d come back.
he’d said he wouldn’t leave, he’d said he’d never leave.
you would leave, you would leave this wretched place with its piercing white lighting and run, run back home, to his apartment and you’d throw open the door and he’d be standing there to welcome you, and you throw yourself onto him and you’d kiss him silly and you’d threaten him that if he ever left you, you’d never make him that pasta again.
yes that’s what you’d do.
you couldn’t because he’s not at home.
he’s dead and he’s not coming back.
your face was wet when you jolted awake. your neck ached from your odd sleeping position against the door, but the only thing you could think was
you stood so abruptly your head spun, and you’d barely reached for the door to steady yourself when you were yanking it open and staggering towards his bedroom.
but you had to make sure.
you breathed a sigh of slight relief, at least he’s here.
but isn’t he lying too still?
no no you’re over reacting. he’s fine, and you were just being hysterical. yes hysterical, and overthinking and that’s why you fought.
it’s not like he was the type to die in his sleep.
except, you don’t know what happened when he was gone. it’s not like you asked about his injuries before you’d started screaming at him. what if something went wrong? what if shoko missed something.
you scrutinized in the dark, making out his sleeping frame, waiting desperately for the telltale rise and fall of his chest under the thickness of the comforter.
what if he’s not breathing.
and before you can stop yourself you were rushing over to his side, and grabbing him by the shoulders, whispering his name and shaking gently at first, then more aggressively as he refused to wake up.
you don’t realize you’re crying again till you see the teardrops darkening the fabric
and you’re practically pulling megumi off the bed by his collar.
“megumi, please megumi, MEGUMI, wake up-“
sheer exhaustion had forced megumi into a much deeper sleep than usual, and he grunted out a half conscious disgruntled
but as you felt the familiar grip of those slim calloused fingers tighten around around your wrist, the relief that swallowed bordered on pure ecstasy.
you collapsed into his chest, not bothering to hide your sobs as you ruined the front of his tshirt. your grip on the fabric never loosened, as if you were afraid that if you didn’t hold on with all your might, he would slip through your fingers.
his eyes widened at your distraught state, and he immediately gathered you up in his arms, sitting up and holding you against his chest, head against his heart.
“shh it’s ok, it’s ok I’m here, i- what’s wrong?”
he threaded his fingers through your hair, stroking gently as you shuddered against him, calming your labored breathing enough to form a reply.
“y-you were dead,” you choked out, between sobs, “and i thought you wouldn’t wake up and then i-i was shaking you and and-“
you burst into another fit of sobs, grabbing his collar, and pulling him closer so you could hide your face in the crook of his neck.
his arms tightened around you, and his heart shattered at the realization of the extent of your distress. he’d known you were worried about him, how could you not be, but he could have never ever fathomed how terrified you truly were.
he’d been such an idiot, the angry outburst he’d been met with had all been an extravagant build up of this; the true ugly fear that had festered within you, and had grown with every dangerous mission he took on unaccompanied, every late night he returned battered and bleeding, every time he spiraled into his own pit of darkness and you weren’t there to pull him out.
and he’d just brushed it off in his own anger as simply being too much.
“i’m sorry [name], i’m so so sorry, i’m not dead , i’m right here. i’m right here with you."
he felt the desperate shake of your head against his neck, and the words whispered against his skin.
“but what if you do die? what if you die, and you never come back and-and you leave me alone and then-“
you pull back to look at him with teary eyes.
“then what will i do? what can i do? if-if you leave me then how-what i-i gumi, i just can’t.”
you looked on the verge of another wave of tears but you pressed a long desperate kiss to his lips. he pressed back, equally desperate, having wanted nothing more than to hold the little joy, the little hope he’d been granted in this life, and to remind himself that if there was nothing else, there was still you to keep alive the little good that remained for him.
when you finally pulled back, your eyes glimmered with whirpools of long suppressed emotions.
“i hope i die first megumi.”
the worst words that could have ever left your lips.
he’d refused to ever allow him to consider such a possibility, deeming it too ghastly to take form as a thought.
yet he’d forced the same thing on to you.
his face crumpled into a pained expression and he opened his mouth to speak but you cut him off.
“i don’t want to live without you. i don’t think i ever want to learn to.”
tears filled his own eyes, and he shifted you onto his lap completely, tucking your head under his chin as he held you together in his arms.
“don’t. don’t do that [name]. nobody’s going to die.”
but even as he spoke the words, he knew they were a lie. and so did you, given the way you pressed your face deeper into his neck.
so instead, he offered something he did know was the truth.
“but i promise you that every time i leave you, the sole, most important thing that will ever be on my mind is to find my way back to you. and i’ll try everything, and i mean everything, to come back to you.”
he felt your breath pause, as your beautifully complicated mind mulled over his words.
when you did finally pull back, your eyes searched his, only to be met with complete sincerity and vulnerability. your hands came to cup his face, and your eyes finally relaxed, looking slightly less troubled, and you gave him a watery smile.
“this is all for the pasta isn’t it.”
he pressed his lips to your forehead and allowed himself a broken chuckle.
and as you melted into the warmth of the bed, his arms around your waist, trapping you against him, your head resting against the constant rhythm of his heartbeat, you decided that maybe, just maybe, you were going to be alright.
because he would always try and make sure to come back to you.
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