megumi fushiguro x yuji itadori
synopsis: megumi's having trouble sleeping, when yuji knocks on his door
warnings: death, trauma, angst, guilt,
an: i’ve kept like mostly everyone alive post shinjuku (cos i'm no gege and gojo stays alive thank you very much)
cracks that went unnoticed
Fushiguro lay on his bed and stared at the odd crack on his ceiling.
It was funny, he was sure it’d been there the entire five years he’d been living in this dorm room at Jujutsu Tech, but somehow, he’d never really noticed it before. It wasn’t a small mark either, more a gaping tear that passed through the bottom left corner of the dingy white ceiling, but somehow, he’d only just realised it was there.
He put it down to the vast expanse of free time he’d suddenly been faced with. Following what they’d started calling the Shinjuku Showdown, their days had been packed, dealing with the collateral damage of the aftermath. The next couple months after Sukuna’s defeat had been relentless, both physically and emotionally, but now that society in general had regained its footing, Gojo had been adamant that all sorcerers involved got some form of staggered leave. Hence Megumi’s current dilemma - the lack of purpose had left him somewhat lost, suddenly faced with the appearance of multiple cracks and tears he hadn’t noticed before.
This had led to an increase in the number of sleepless nights, where the lack of physical exertion had given Megumi plenty of time to delve deeper into his mind, and the thoughts the exhaustion had suppressed for so long. Arguably, he found that this was worse.
Gojo Satoru had lost to Sukuna, but somehow miraculously returned shortly after.
Geto Suguru had returned, and played a crucial part in the defeat of the King of Curses.
Nanami had been in critical condition for months, and had now left on an indefinite leave to Malaysia.
Tsumiki was still alive, albeit on a very slow path to recovery.
The first and second years had all survived, but most were still in some part injured, and with Gojo’s intervention, it would be long before they were tasked with any manual labour.
And finally, Ryomen Sukuna was dead, killed by Itadori Yuji.
An overall successful outcome, the report had said.
Megumi audibly scoffed at the concept. If you could call it that.
The night Gojo and Sukuna had fought haunted him. Now that he wasn't bombarded with the constant possibility, or rather eventuality of death, Megumi had been forced to face that fact, acknowledge the scars of a memory brutally carved into his brain. That helpless feeling of being a bystander in his own body. Feeling Sukuna's power coursing through him, being used to destroy the very man that had saved him. Gojo Satoru, killed by the very hands he'd raised. Sukuna's presence in his body hadn't completely taken away his consciousness during the fight. It had dulled it yes, making it seem like the fight was merely a dull rumour of a faraway war, but he still knew what was happening, could still feel Gojo's desperation grow, and Sukuna's determination strengthen through each impact and each slice. He could still feel Gojo's arms wrapped around him amidst the chaos, still hear his voice:
The guilt remained loud, potent as ever. The helplessness of being able to do nothing, all while being forced to watch Sukuna slice through Gojo with Megumi's own hands, the deep rooted fear and regret in Gojo's eyes, void of their usual blue glint. And then after all that there was the sound of his own sobs, as he cradled the lifeless face of the man he'd almost called 'dad' more times than he could count - it was plenty to steal away any semblance of sleep.
He dragged his hands down his face, suddenly exhausted. Nothing good ever came from plummeting down this rabbit hole. Gojo was alive, Sukuna was dead, and that was all that really mattered.
He opened his eyes to face the crack again. He should really get that covered up, painted over maybe, or filled in. He thought he might ask Gojo, or maybe one of the other students to help.
He was dragged out of his thoughts by a quiet, almost hesitant knock on his door.
He sat up and glanced at the alarm clock on his bedside table.
Weird, he thought, secretly grateful for any distraction. At this time?
But then again was he really surprised? The concept of a linear sleep schedule didn't really exist for jujutsu sorcerers.
He opened the door, expecting Gojo or Shoko, maybe with news about Tsumiki?
He was instead met with a faded pink undercut, strong but tired features, dimmed brown eyes, broad shoulders, and a loose white t shirt that did little to cover his muscular frame.
Megumi didn't say anything, but held the door open, waiting for the other boy to speak first.
Itadori didn't look up and didn't immediately say anything either. That was the first indicator that something was off about him. But then how could he expect anything otherwise? If being Sukuna's vessel for a couple weeks had all but broken him, he couldn't fathom how Itadori had survived for so long. And with his stubborn moral compass and empathetic nature, the result of destruction caused by Sukuna in his body made Megumi's own guilt seem negligible. Ever since the Shibuya Incident, Itadori's carefree, cheerful nature had evaporated. He now trudged around with a sort of heaviness in his soul, undoubtedly the burden of the lives lost which he carried by himself. It ate at Megumi, that the sole reason Itadori was ever involved in this was because he had tried to save a stranger. A strange boy that could have been spouting nonsense for all he cared.
It wasn't fair, but then Megumi had confronted that truth long ago.
Itadori seemed intent on focusing his attention on some point on the door hinge, before finally speaking.
"Hey Fushiguro." His voice was meek and unsure, and Megumi found himself missing the upbeat confidence it once possessed.
"Itadori," Megumi acknowledged.
Itadori fidgeted with his hands, curling and uncurling them into fists at his sides, as if trying to find a valid reason to explain his appearance at Megumi's door. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again, then repeated this a couple times. Megumi waited patiently.
"I couldn't sleep.” He paused for a minute, mulling over his words, before continuing. “I thought I’d see if you were awake too. I can go if you want. Sorry for disturbing you.” He made no move to turn away despite his words, but stood tense, waiting for Megumi’s reply.
"Do you want to come inside?" Megumi offered, a little thrown off by Itadori’s politeness.
Itadori's shoulders dropped, losing some of their tension, his relief almost palpable. He still wouldn't look Megumi in the eye.
Megumi moved to the side to let him in, and Itadori all but dragged himself inside the room.
Once inside he stood awkwardly, unsure of himself. Granted, Megumi hadn't willingly let Itadori into his room that often, but the pink haired boy's new, reserved and hesitant behaviour unnerved him.
Megumi sat on the side of his bed, resuming his position in front of the crack before Itadori's interruption.
"You gonna stand there the whole time, or do you want to sit?"
He didn't respond, but shuffled over to Megumi's side and sitting a little further away than usual, muttering a quiet 'thank you'. The formality was unnerving; there seemed to be a sudden distance between the two, and it made his throat close up with dread for reasons he hadn't bothered examining yet.
They sat in silence, facing the cracked wall, both unsure of what to say. The quiet night seemed to amplify the sound of Megumi's heartbeat, and he wouldn't have been surprised if the other boy could hear it. Seconds, maybe minutes passed.
Itadori was the first to break the silence.
Megumi's eyes darted upwards to Itadori. Of all the things he'd expected him to say, he couldn't imagine what prompted this. He'd assumed that Itadori simply couldn't sleep, and had been grateful for the company of another in the same position as himself. Or perhaps grateful for the company of specifically the boy sitting next to him. Again for reasons he hadn't bothered examining.
He realised he still hadn't said anything, and was instead staring at Itadori with wide, surprised eyes. Itadori continued staring determinedly forward.
"What?" he forced out finally, a rare outburst of unfiltered emotion from the raven haired boy.
"I said I'm sorry," he repeated, his voice carefully measured, but Megumi could sense the slight tremble.
"I heard that. I meant why? What are you apologising for."
If anything, I should be the one apologising to you.
Apparently it was Itadori's turn to be incredulous. He finally turned towards Megumi's, his eyes reflecting the same shock, but a faint, puffy red rimmed the brown orbs.
He's been crying, Megumi realised, and he felt his heart drop. Somehow, seeing Itadori, the boy who once always had a smile and a joke ready on the tip of his tongue, reduced to a solemn, broken wreck made Megumi wish he'd never been sent to retrieve that finger in the first place. Never even met Itadori, because then he would never have lost that smile Megumi suddenly keenly felt the absence of.
But I'm lying to myself. I don't wish I'd never met him - because I'm selfish.
Itadori was still gaping at him with a look of utter confusion and despair.
"Of course I'm apologising. It's because I was alive that Sukuna was able to cause so much destruction in Shibuya. It's because of me that so so many people died. It's because of me that Sukuna was even able to take control of your body. It's because of me that-" his voice broke slightly, and tears formed at the corner of his eyes. "That you had to watch Gojo sensei..." He trailed off, his breaths coming ragged, suddenly looking defeated, as if his outburst had drained him completely.
"If only I'd been executed that day, none of this would have ever-"
"Shut the fuck up Itadori," spat Megumi, the spite in his voice surprising the both of them.
Itadori recoiled physically, and Megumi instantly regretted his harsh tone.
"You're spouting bullshit, so stop it. You only ever ate the finger to save me, remember. You'd never even have known about this mess if I - if I hadn't..."
Megumi turned away, feeling his throat constrict, unable to continue speaking. His words didn't seem to provide Itadori much comfort either, as the boy was now openly sobbing, clenching his fists hard enough so that his nails dug crescents into his palms.
"How could you say that? How could you possibly think that any of this is your fault? Of course I saved you, of course I did - and I would do it again in a heartbeat, even after everything. This was never your fault, you were just doing what you were told. I was the one who was Sukuna's vessel for so long and we had so fucking long to weaken Sukuna but we just-" Itadori broke off into another fit of sobs, frantically wiping his face with his hands. He took a moment till his cries subsided and he regained some stability.
"You should hate me Fushiguro."
This was too much for Megumi.
Hate him? Hate him? Hate the boy with a heart of gold? Hate the boy who'd been willing to sacrifice everything, who had sacrificed everything, just to save people who didn't even deserve it.
He keeled over, his face facing his knees as tears flowed freely down his face. He gripped his hair, yanking it hard, hoping it would somehow ease the pain, the pain he felt, the pain he caused - god that seemed to be all he knew- pain, pain, pain.
He looked up, eyes wild, frantic, and before he knew what he was doing he'd opened his arms slightly
"Just come here Ita- Yuji."
If Yuji was surprised he didn’t show it, barely hesitating before launching himself at Megumi, a broken sound leaving his mouth as his arms coming around Megumi’s waist so tightly he feared he wouldn't be able to breathe. He welcomed the pressure, tightening his own hold on the other boy. He felt his own body relax slightly, almost on reflex - as if his very subconscious knew that this is exactly what he'd needed. That Yuji was all he'd ever needed. He could feel every muscle tremble under Yuji's thin t shirt, as he continued bawling into his hoodie, hiding his face in Megumi's chest. He tucked his own face into Yuji's neck, his face still slightly wet, but the tears having ceased for the moment. He cradled Yuji's head, running his hands through pink hair in a desperate attempt to calm the distraught boy.
"It’s ok, Yuji. You’ll be ok," he whispered, this concept of comforting someone being completely foreign to Megumi.
Yuji's hold on him only tightened as he buried his face deeper into Megumi's hoodie. His sobs quietened slightly after some time, subsiding into quieter sniffles and raspy breaths. When he finally pulled back to face Megumi, his lashes were wet with tears, and his eyes seemed almost golden with tears under the dim light.
"Please don't hate me Megumi. I wouldn't be able to live like that."
Megumi stared back disbelieving. He gazed at Yuji's face, tracing with his eyes the boy's slightly arched eyebrows, then his honey brown eyes, shimmering with tears, down to his pointed nose, and finally his lips that formed the most perfect smiles. He could smell Yuji's scent, something woody and then fruity, and he felt intoxicated. The proximity was doing something to his brain. and the feel of him in his arms made Megumi never want to let go.
He didn't think much about what he did next.
He pressed his lips against Yuji's, perhaps with more force than necessary, but then slowed down a little, giving him any chance to pull away. He could feel Yuji's shock, could feel Yuji's grip on him loosen, and he thought that this was it, he'd fucked up, any moment now Yuji would push him away and he'd never get to taste this softness ever-
Yuji fisted the front of his hoodie, pulling him in closer, his face still damp from crying but he continued to deepen the kiss. Megumi's hand came to cup his cheek, swiping away any stray tears, wishing he could kiss away all his sadness, all his pain, and make him forget everything but this moment right here.
Yuji's hands came to wrap around Megumi's neck, and remained there when they finally pulled away for air.
They both stared at each other, breathing hard, taking in the other's tear stained, dishevelled appearance.
Megumi flicked Yuji's forehead.
"You idiot. Don't say stupid stuff like that again," he grumbled.
Yuji smiled at that, a real genuine smile, and Megumi's heart did a backflip, slamming against his ribs. He'd missed that more than he could ever admit.
Half an hour later, having mutually agreed to discuss whatever had happened at a kinder hour of the day, the both of them had somehow managed to adjust themselves on Megumi's single bed. They lay on their backs, sides touching, facing the ceiling. Yuji pointed out the crack on the ceiling, and mentioned how he also had a similar fracture crack on of the walls in his rooms.
Megumi grumbled something about getting it fixed tomorrow and trying to get some sleep, his eyes suddenly heavy and drooping. Yuji's warm presence next to him seemed to do wonders for his ability to relax.
Barely a minute must have passed before Yuji tugged on Megumi's hoodie sleeve again.
Megumi opened one eye, slightly groggy.
an pt 2: umm my friend said she likes when boys cry so like i had to deliverrr
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