˚₊۶ৎ˙⋆ OLD HABITS DIE HARD! ✉️
伏黑惠 — fluff/crack, clingy!megumi, childhood bsfs to lovers
Gojo sighed, watching a tiny Megumi cling onto your arm like a koala. Why was he being so stubborn right now? He had always been difficult, but not this difficult.
He had never seen him so fond of another human being before. Megumi stared at strangers like they slaughtered his entire family right before his eyes, so seeing him sticking to you like glue was a rare sight.
Gojo’s one and only dream was for Megumi to interact with other human beings, especially considering how closed off he was for his young age.
He never expected someone like him being so attached to someone like you.
You were a sweet kid. You lost count of the amount of times Gojo retold the story of how you cried after Megumi ‘accidentally’ stepped on a baby worm, squishing it’s wriggly body and reducing it to a tiny pile of it’s guts and flesh.
He says ‘accidentally’ because Megumi actually did it on purpose, but you only lived to see the part where he was already stepping on the poor worm, not the part where he brutally stepped it to death.
He felt so bad that he sat by you for four hours, waiting until you calmed down. It proved to be a challenge because he only got you to stop was by hugging you, and the moment he let go you’d start crying all over again.
it’s not like he minded though. He enjoyed being in your presence, even if his oversized t-shirt was drenched in your tears right after.
He found himself naturally gravitating towards you, like the sun orbiting the earth. Wherever you were, he’d be standing in your shadow, breathing down your neck. It started to get awkward when people would flicker their gaze back and forth between you and him during conversations, cause he’d always stand impossibly close behind with a nasty glare.
Wherever you went, so did he. He’d sit next to you at recess, walk by your side on the pavement after school, Gojo even found him talking to you from the other side of the door while you used the bathroom.
That little habit followed him into his teenage years. You were both older now, he was colder and more serious than before, but his fondness for you stayed the same, even more if possible.
How could he not? You were the sun to his moon. No one would look at you and think you killed for a living. It didn’t help that inumaki would pop in every so often to ask you to make him treats. It was basically a routine for you to walk up and down jujutsu high’s halls, back and forth between classes holding a tiny pink bag, some sort of sugary treat usually sitting inside a box tied with a bow in it.
Yuji and Nobara started tallying the amount of times he’d huff, groan or sigh whenever he was assigned a mission with someone else other than you. He’d beat their asses if he ever found out, but everyone started keeping track of how many hours he’d spend around you.
Refilling your bottle during training? He would be there with his own bottle. Lunch? He’d sit beside you, eating the homemade meal you had prepped for him in the morning. Any other fucking time of the day? You would be hiding in the break room, his head peering over your shoulder to look at whatever you were doing on your phone.
Their calculations came to.. a daily average of 16 hours. On cold stormy days, he’d sleep in your room because you were ‘scared’ of the thunder. Now that would come to around 23 hours, the one hour being times where you’d be forcefully separated.
Maybe the reason he was so attached because you were the first person to show him genuine care and affection. Sure, Gojo would coddle him until the ends of the earth, but Megumi always believed that care came from obligation. He was his father figure, of course he had to care about him.
You were different. You saw him and decided he was the one you’d take care of for the rest of your life.
He came back late from a mission one night, and you grabbed him by the wrist, dragging him back to your room to patch him up.
He was reluctant to let you do so. He didn’t want to be a burden to you, especially since it was late at night, and you should’ve been long asleep by then. He felt bad for making you wait up for him, but the moment you pouted at him he fully gave up.
You pressed the cotton ball to one of his cuts, stinging sensation running up his entire arm from the sudden change of temperature. “Why are you always so reckless, can’t you be more careful?”
You looked up at him, awaiting his answer, only to find him gazing at you with half-lidded eyes. He studied your worried expression and felt his heart go all fuzzy.
You furrowed your brows at him. “Are you gonna sit there and stare at me all night, or do I have to drag you back to your dorm myself?”
“Can I stay for the night?” He asked, voice quieter now. “I need to be near you for a while longer..”
Your gaze softened, wrapping your arms around the boy’s neck. Still sitting on your bed, he pulled you closer by curling his arms tight around your waist.
Post-shibuya, when the culling games came around, he still didn’t want to split up with you. You were fully capable of handling yourself, but maybe that’s why he didn’t want you to go off on your own.
He fought against splitting up from you and yuji. His excuse was that they would need you if Sukuna ever striked again. You suggested that Yuta stay with them, you being far more willing to fight without holding back in battles.
He didn’t listen. He never did when it came to you. He’d much rather you stay back and recruit more allies with him than run around fighting high-ranked sorcerers for points. You would’ve been their best bet at getting enough points for his sister, if it wasn’t for him.
He knew he was holding you back, but at least it would keep you safe. That’s all he ever wanted to do. Keep you safe.
Now, if only he was born somewhere far from here. Away from the jujutsu world. Away from curses. That reality would never happen. Megumi Fushiguro had never been destined to win in the first place. He was a major loser, and fate never did listen to him. Not even once.
Even when he was most desperate.
Now he sat alone in the clinic. The room of smelled of antiseptic and protective gloves, room white and too quiet for his liking.
He never wanted to throw up more in his life.
He sat by your body with his fists clenched tight in his lap, you unmoving and laid out on the table, bag pulled too high. You never stayed still in your sleep. You’d toss and turn and kick his back as you wrapped your arms around his waist, mumbling something incoherent.
He’d never get that ever again. The scars carved onto both sides of his face were a constant reminder of how you would just be a memory from then on.
Shoko opened the door slightly, only peeking in from the crack of the door. She had done this a million times before, but this time, when she saw him she froze.
She stared at his back for a second, and suddenly she was a teen again, watching Gojo hunched over his desk, hiding whatever snacks he could sneak into class that day.
“Fushiguro?” He pressed his lips into a thin line, knowing by the tone of her voice, he knew what she was going to say before she could open her mouth.
You were about to be cremated, trapped soul about to be set free through the flames.
You used to tell him that you weren’t afraid of anything, but he say the way you’d flinch whenever anything hot would get too near. He’d usually chuckle under his breath, telling you that everything would be alright.
“Ieiri-San, I.. I need more time.” His voice cracked. The stone cold Megumi Fushiguro was faltering, all because the love of his life now
“Please. Let me stay with her. Just… a little longer.”
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