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As far as he can remember, Fushiguro knew he has always been a cold and insensitive person, but that’s not something he could be blamed for. After all, what could you expect from a child who received no affection whatsoever and whose father disappeared without leaving a trace ? On top of that, his sister was cursed and fell into a coma not too long ago. Having been through all that, Fushiguro deemed caring and getting attached to people pretty unnecessary. Unless people enjoyed suffering uselessly, why caring and getting attached if others kept dying and leaving ?
At least that’s how Fushiguro Megumi used to think before he met Itadori Yuuji.
Yuuji was the brightest and most cheerful boy Megumi ever encountered in his shaman’s life. Of course, when most of the things he did were exorcising curses and bearing Gojo-Sensei 24/7, what was normal and usual to mundane people were exceptional to Megumi. Because that was what Itadori Yuuji was, perfectly normal (except maybe his phenomenal physical strength). He was just a high school kid, good at sports, and who liked having fun with the members of the occult club.
Fushiguro had thought that a person like Itadori deserved a normal, natural death despite everything that had occurred since he swallowed that finger. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
Itadori Yuuji lost his life in the worst, most gruesome way one could ever fathom.
The dark haired boy remembered every second of it, every detail of his friend’s death with an alarming accuracy.
It was raining that day. Hard. Sometimes Fushiguro still sees on loop the way Sukuna’s hand had cleanly and effortlessly sunk into his vessel’s chest as if it was made of butter to rip his heart off. He remembered how the king of curses casually threw the organ like it was nothing more than rubbish one wanted to get rid of. He remembered how it still beat faintly on the wet, cold ground, and how Itadori collapsed gracelessly at his feet, thick crimson blood staining the sole of his shoes.
“Live a long life...”
Yeah, Itadori couldn’t have survived after that, there was no doubt. Not when Fushiguro was the one to drag his body back, so light and so heavy at the same time. Not when he still felt the way his uniform had stuck to his back, hot and wet from the blood that just wouldn’t stop trickling from the gaping wound on Itadori’s chest. Not when he had seen with his own eyes his friend’s corpse laying on a coroner’s table, awaiting an inevitable autopsy. So you can imagine Fushiguro’s surprise when two months later, his presumed dead friend, accompanied by Gojo-Sensei, merrily pulled up in a cart in front of him, Nobara and the Kyoto students as if he just came back from a shopping trip.
What Fushiguro felt at first, was anger. A deep, burning anger. Against Itadori, Gojo-Sensei, against the higher-ups, Sukuna, everything. He felt betrayed, and humiliated. How could he forget the countless nights he spent overwhelmed with guilt and filled with sadness and self-hatred, because he had failed to protect the friend he’d sworn to save. How could he forget all the tears he shed, the painful sobs and cries he smothered into his pillow at night when he was sure no one could hear, him who was naturally so stoic and collected. He sarcastically thought, that’s what you get for deciding to care about someone for once, even after all the shit you went through.
Then, he felt an immense relief. He wanted nothing more than to punch Itadori in the face (because come on… he kinda deserved it, turning up out of the blue after two months when everybody thought he had kicked the bucket.) and yank him into his arms so he could hug the fucking bastard until he truly died, of suffocation this time.
But that could wait. First, they had to win a competition against the Kyoto Prefectural Curse Technical College.
It wasn’t too long after the baseball game that Itadori Yuuji heard someone knock at his door.
“Come in!” he answered cheerfully, still thrilled to have won against Kyoto twice.
While waiting for whoever was behind that door to open it, Itadori picked up his favourite manga and resumed his reading. After a few seconds, he heard his wooden door creaking and swiftly turned his head towards the source of the noise. He was greeted by messy hair and a jaded face. The shikigami user stood sheepishly by the door, visibly struggling between staying where he was or running away so fast it was like he was never there to begin with.
“Oh, Fushiguro! What’s up?” The boy sat up enthusiastically on his bed and waved at his friend. The latter, a frown etched on his face, had his gaze fixed stubbornly on the parquet, and his fists were tightly clenched at his sides. Seeing that he wasn’t getting an answer anytime soon, Itadori slowly cocked his head to the right and spoke again, hesitantly.
“Did you uh... need something? D’you wanna sit?”
He shifted hastily on his bed and patted the spot right next to him.
Meanwhile, Fushiguro was having an existential crisis.
Why was he even here, and why couldn’t he force the smallest word out of his mouth? It was just Yuuji for fuck’s sake. Yuuji, who was looking a bit embarrassed for being the only one making conversation in this room and who had started to squirm uncomfortably under Fushiguro’s rather intense gaze. He suddenly got off his bed and headed for his door. As he moved past Fushiguro, he casted him a quick glance and smiled sheepishly, eager to get out of this awkward situation.
“Uh... well, I’ll.. I have to go grab another manga at the library, I’ll be back soo—”
“Wait...”
Fushiguro softly grabbed Itadori’s wrist as he was about to leave his bedroom.
“Sorry, I just... I didn’t know what to say.”
A pause. Then, in a small voice,
“Don’t leave, please...”
Itadori immediately stopped in his tracks and faced Fushiguro.
“Okay.. I-I’m staying here, don’t worry.” He answered with a bright smile.
The dark haired boy breathed a sigh of relief. He was starting to release his grip on Yuuji’s wrist, when suddenly he felt it, the slow and steady pulse of his friend under the delicate skin of the joint. An undeniable proof he was alive.
Megumi had been feeling so on edge these last few days he could have cried instantly, but he thankfully had a little bit of self-control left.
Or so he thought.
He only realised he had tears sliding down his cheeks when Itadori worriedly called out his name, his big brown hazel eyes, as expressive as ever, staring right into his own watery ones. Fushiguro furiously wiped his face with his free hand, so ashamed of his small breakdown he wished a pit would appear on the ground and swallow him whole.
“Sorry about that... I—”
“Fushiguro...”
He felt not long after hearing his name a warm hand cover the one that still held on to Itadori’s wrist. Megumi sharply raised his head, fearing that the look he’d see on his friend’s face was one of disappointment, or even worse, one of pity.
Instead, thankfully for him, Itadori offered him one of his oh so comforting smiles, the ones that never failed to cheer him up no matter how sad or miserable he felt.
“Look, I know you’re one stubborn dude and never tell us anything but… what did you come here for? You know I’ll never judge you or look down upon you, you’re my precious friend after all!”
If Yuuji’s smile was bright before it was now blinding. So blinding Fushiguro had to divert his gaze for a few milliseconds otherwise he would have melted right on the spot. Also his face felt really hot, and he didn’t like it.
He thought it wouldn’t hurt to tell Itadori why he suddenly went in his bedroom in the first place, but Fushiguro wasn’t known for being the best with words. So instead, he decided to show him.
After all, actions spoke louder than words, right?
Ignoring his pride and such, he released Itadori’s wrist (which he had been holding on to ever since he grabbed it because he really needed to feel his friend’s pulse after everything that had happened), and tightly wound his arms around Itadori’s waist.
The latter, far from expecting that from Fushiguro, almost startled. But because he was a very touchy-feely person and gladly welcomed any kind of physical contact, he relaxed immediately against the warm body against him. There was something very sad and desperate about the way Megumi hugged him. It was as if he was a drowning man, and Yuuji was a breath of fresh air he’d earn if he managed to stay above water. It was as if he despairingly wanted to feel Yuuji everywhere at the same time. It was as if he hadn’t been touched that way for years and years which, Yuuji thought with a heavy heart, was most certainly the case. Exhaling softly, Itadori ran a hand through Fushiguro’s erratic hair before settling it on his nape, his thumb gently tracing Megumi’s hairline as his other hand started to stroke his back in long, affectionate gestures.
He felt Fushiguro shiver under the touch, and the taller boy buried his face impossibly closer against the spot between his neck and collarbone. Itadori turned his head to look at Fushiguro, and softly murmured into the crown of his head.
“Fushiguro…when was the last time you were held…?”
Knowing he wouldn’t get an answer because he was aware of how touch-starved his friend was, and because he really didn’t want to force him to talk, he started to step back carefully, with Fushiguro meekly following his steps, until he felt the edge of the bed hit the back of his thighs. Then, he let himself flop down onto the mattress, his arms still tightly wrapped around Megumi’s waist. His friend fell on top of him, relishing the feeling of being sheltered by Yuuji’s strong embrace. As he gradually drifted off to sleep, right before sinking into the arms of Morpheus, he swore he felt lips timidly pressing a kiss to the top of his head.
Fushiguro woke up to gentle hands stroking his hair and the side of his face. It was quite dark outside and the room felt considerably colder. Lifting his face up from the warm, soft surface it was resting on, he managed a small, tired smile when he met Itadori’s kind gaze.
“You looked like you really needed to rest, so... I let you sleep.”
Fushiguro nodded slowly, his mind still foggy with sleep. He felt the urge to do something to thank Itadori. For letting him stay in his room, even after he had kinda behaved like a prick, for comforting him and not judging him for it, for saving him back at Sugisawa Municipal High School, for everything. In a sudden burst of affection, he leaned on his elbow and quickly pressed his lips against Itadori’s cheek.
The latter blushed, once again (rather pleasantly) surprised by his friend’s behaviour, then started to laugh nervously. He brought a hand to his face and brushed with delicate fingers the spot Fushiguro had kissed.
“W-What was that for? That’s not like you to…I mean—not that I’m complaining! I… I kinda liked it…” He said bashfully.
Unable to resist Yuuji’s adorable expression, Fushiguro leaned forward and laid a kiss on his temple this time. He then whispered against the soft skin.
“I wanted to thank you, I guess…”
“I’m confu—”
“For everything…you’ve helped me so much ever since I met you and… I don’t know. I just felt like doing it. You don’t mind, do you?”
Itadori fondly shook his head, then gently pressed their foreheads together before shifting them around both so that they were lying down on their sides, facing each other.
“Of course I don’t, but…there’s more to it than that, isn’t there…?”
He risked a glance at Fushiguro’s face, who was absentmindedly worrying his lower lip between his teeth. His words were hesitant as he spoke.
“It’s just that I… I needed to see you, you know. Even after you showed up before the competition I still had a hard time believing you were alive. I thought it was just some curse messing with my head somehow but… Itadori, I had to drag your corpse back to Ijichi’s car, I… I was certain you were dead, because of me. Because I couldn’t convince Sukuna to fix your heart and—”
He paused, and exhaled shakily before taking another breath.
“…I went to your funeral.”
Itadori froze, at a loss for words, his heart as heavy as lead in his chest. He felt like he should say something, anything, before Fushiguro had another breakdown, but he didn’t want to interrupt him while he was letting it all out. Instead, he lightly pressed his lips to Fushiguro’s forehead and kept them there, just to show him he was here and didn’t intend on leaving anytime soon.
“And when I heard that the Kyoto students were ordered to kill you as soon as their superiors knew you weren’t dead… I just, lost it.”
“I had already seen you die once, Yuuji. There was no way I was going through that again.”
By the time Fushiguro was done talking, they were both close to tears. Or rather, Fushiguro was holding back as best as he could, because he had already broken down too often during the two months he spent without Itadori, and the latter seemed on the brink of sobbing his heart out, and was already crying silently.
Fushiguro reacted immediately upon seeing Itadori’s weeping face, and he wordlessly brought a hand up to stroke his cheek, wiping tears in the process.
“Hey, don’t cry... please.”
Itadori only sniffed loudly, before letting out another unbidden sob.
“S-Sorry… I know it’s a bit u-uncalled for because…you’re the one who suffered the m-most and… I should be comforting you and not the o-other way around, I’m s—”
Megumi shushed him softly and planted a couple of gentle kisses right under the slit below his eye.
This idiot is turning me soft... he thought fondly.
“I bet you’re exhausted, and so am I.. wanna get under the covers and sleep for like, twenty hours straight?” Megumi suggested with a faint smile.
“Sounds like a plan...” Yuuji answered tiredly.
The shikigami user then lifted the sheets, and they both got under the covers, naturally gravitating towards each other and embracing tightly, their bodies fitting like two puzzle pieces. Itadori turned on his back and pulled Fushiguro on top of him, their legs intertwining. Megumi nuzzled the hollow of Yuuji’s throat, and placed his hand on his chest, right above his heart.
As he felt sleep progressively wrapping its tendrils around him for the second time today, he felt warm palms sliding up the bare expanse of his back, before slowly going down and settling against his lower back.
“Is this okay…?” Itadori whispered against his hair, ready to take his hands off in case it was too much.
Fushiguro smiled softly, pressed his lips to a sharp collarbone before answering in a tired, content voice.
“Yeah... it is okay.”