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The end comes as fast as the beginning and just as brutal. It leaves him with a body that he doesn't recognize anymore and a name in the back of his throat clogging his airways, wrapping around his neck and refusing to let go.
" Megumi, " Itadori says over and over again, in every corner of his brain. "Live for the both of us."
Then he looks over his shoulder and grins.
The shape of his mouth is sewn to the back of Megumi's eyelids no matter how much he tries to will it away.
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The walls in itadori's room are blank and all of his sixteen years are inside boxes that are stacked neatly and pushed against the wall. Megumi stands with his back to the window and looks at the barren bed ;stripped of Yuuji's too bright sheets and he counts his breaths.
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He doesn't dream. He closes his eyes and there's nothing. He opens them and there's nothing still. The days pass him by each one heavier on his heart.
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Breakfast is too quiet. Nobara won't leave his side no matter how much he snaps and bares his teeth at her. She snaps back then leans against his shoulder and stays there, a constant, unmovable as ever. So he shakes enough for the both of them.
The quiet makes a nest in his chest and grows vines, its poison seeps into his bones. He keeps looking back at the door expecting pink and a ghost's laughter. But nobody calls for him, no arm is thrown around his shoulder.
His skin burns, everyone keeps their distance and the quiet stretches on.
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Most nights are the same. He's in his bed for hours and nothing seems to happen.
He stares at the wall that separates their rooms and keeps an ear out. Maybe he'll hear movement or shuffling or humming but the sound was snuffed out.
He curls up in Yuuji's comforter, wraps himself in the smell and weeps like a child. His ribcage feels like it's shrinking around his heart and lungs at an agonizing pace and his eyes feel too heavy in their sockets.
He presses his face to the neck of the hoodie he's clutching and waits for sleep. It never comes.
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Gojo doesn't know how to talk to him anymore.Every exchange between them is stiff and weighted.
He remembers screaming at him through his grief, wanting to hurt, wanting to carve out every good thing left in the world and snuff out the sun itself. Nothing good and bright should persevere when Yuuji didn't.
"What good is all that power if you can't save one man?" He spits out, every word hard and unyielding.
The static in his ears comes to a halt and Gojo goes eerily still.
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He looks away every time nobara and maki reach for each other. Of course they catch the subtle turn of his head. He doesn't try to cover it up.
The bitterness gnaws at his heart, leaving behind something deformed and mangled, a creature of blood and muscle and sharp teeth.
The thing is, he doesn't even try to push it away or chase it out. Instead, he leans into it, sinks into the fire it starts inside of him lets it lap at his skin and use his brittle bones as firewood.
Later, when his only companions are the shadows on his bedroom wall, he thinks about Yuuji's disappointment itched in the line of his mouth and the furrow of his brow and he can't help but feel ashamed.
The guilt, most terrifying of all feelings, drowns out everything else. All it leaves behind is static.
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"I can't remember what his laugh sounds like" nobara says staring up at the ceiling. He can tell she's trying not to cry by the way she's pursing her lips.
They spend the rest of the night huddled together on the bedroom floor watching and rewatching video after video of their last few months together.
Yuuji's laugh plays on a loop in his mind for the rest of the week.
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On itadori's seventeenth birthday, he bakes a cake from one of the recipes that he left him.
"I'm gonna write everything i know down for you," yuuji announced his eyes crinkling from smiling so hard " you know you're hopeless without me."
He remembers having to bite the inside of his cheek really hard feeling scrubbed raw.
The next week, Yuuji walked into his room and sat facing him, his jaw tight and eyes hard. He hands him a notebook.
Megumi flips through it tenderly, looks at how hard the other boy tried to make his writing neat, at the love he poured into every line and he thinks I was never gonna walk away from this unscathed was I?
"I hope it's this that you remember me by. Not the blood and the loss, not the sadness. But this. Food and my hugs and how much i annoy you sometimes," He paused his hands finding megumi's. "I don't want my memory to be something that brings you pain Megumi."
At that moment, he looked so much older, he looked like he lived his whole life, a full life.
He ends up burning the cake. Nobara laughs and laughs and he can't find it in him to be mad.
"It's okay" she pats his shoulder "i'm sure you'll nail it next year"
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It doesn't get easier.
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"You are my person." He whispered into Yuuji's neck one morning.
"What the hell fushiguro that's so gay." The other boy pretended to gag gently pushing Megumi's head but the corners of his eyes crinkled and his cheeks were red.
"I will kick your ass Itadori" He couldn't hold back his own smile so he hid it by brushing his lips to his boyfriend's jaw. "Say it back coward"
"You are my person too." Yuuji laughed, "God you're sappy this morning."
I'm going to miss you for the rest of my life he remembers thinking. I don't want it to end. Please don't let it come to an end.
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The day that the elders finally set a date, Itadori locked himself in his room for an entire afternoon.
Megumi remembers the helplessness of having to hear his best friend's sobs through the wall.
He remembers leaning his forehead against it and crying wishing that he was stronger or smarter, feeling like a little boy, absolutely lost and already grieving for someone who was still present.
Later, once Itadori finally lets him in, he curls himself around the other boy and holds him as tight as he can, wishing he could hide him inside of his body. He was willing to trade his heart for a safe corner where he can stow him away from a world that's out to get him.
"You're good and kind and brave," he whispers "i wish I could keep you safe" he repeats over and over again.
I want to rip the world apart with my teeth for you. He doesn't say. I want to dig a hole big enough for all your problems so you don't have to look at them anymore. He doesn't say. I want to use my fists until they're bloody and scraped, until the bones show, until all that's left is you.
He settles for "i love you". He doesn't think it's enough.
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"I don't want to die" "I know" "I can't leave you alone" "I won't be" He absolutely will.
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They share most of their firsts and all of yuuji's lasts.
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The inevitability of it all makes everything clearer. It makes Yuuji and the lines of his body starker against a blurry background of other people.
So at night, he traces the shape of yuuji's nose, his cheekbones, the sharp line of his jaw, first with a finger then again with his lips.
He lets the want seep into every chamber of his heart. He lets the need turn him inside out. He lets the anger peel him open and the sadness put the pieces back together.
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At first, they avoided talking about it. Until they couldn't.
They were watching one of Itadori's indie horror movies that left him and nobara more confused than anything -he supposes it's because their brains don't work like yuuji's, after all, he's the artist out of the three-, when Yuuji suddenly pauses it and turns to them.
Sensing what was coming, the other two sat up from their slouched positions on the couch.
"I'm sick of avoiding it" he blurts out after a moment, chewing on his lip.
Megumi could feel nothing but dread crawling up his spine. The room was freezing cold and boiling hot at the same time.
Nobara sends a panicked look his way as if he himself wasn't seconds away from bolting.
"Guys c'mon don't be like that," a sigh and then quieter "I'm just as scared as the both of you but I'd rather we address it now than let it hang over every moment we have left."
He wanted to say something reassuring, he wanted to be the rock that both of his friends hoped, no expected him to be. But all he was when it came down to it is a sixteen year old kid who wanted his best friend, the only person he put his faith in, to never leave his side.
"I probably don't have much time left," it's stated matter of factly as if it didn't feel like someone took a bat to Megumi's heart and beat it to a pulp. "They're going to set a date soon. Gojo-sensei pushed back as hard as he could. But you know, after everything, he's not so untouchable anymore and Sukuna is unpredictable. i maybe have a year at the most. We can't delay the inevitable forever."
"Itadori," nobara starts then swallows thickly, opens her mouth again then closes it.
" It's okay. All i need right now is for you guys to hug me, tell me you love me and that it's worth it. All of it."
"I can't say that" it comes out rushed and angry startling all of them "nothing will ever be worth your life. If it was in my hands, i would choose to be selfish again. I would choose you every single time without hesitating, without giving it a second thought"
It was quiet for a second. Both of the idiots were gaping at him.
"I have to say i'm with fushiguro on this one," nobara had one of her wild grins on. "I told you before meathead. You've pushed your way with brute force into my life and made yourself quite comfortable. It's going to take a lot more force for me to let you leave like that. You know I'm always up for a good fight"
Her conviction took him by surprise. She sounded like she was ready to take on sukuna himself if it meant yuuji could make it out. And maybe she was.
He can't help but think back to that moment and to the fragile buds of hope that dug their way out to the surface. He wishes he could've promptly stomped them to the ground back then.
Because it didn't matter that it was a certainty, that it was set in stone, that there was no turning back from it. None of it mattered. They were never going to be prepared. There was always going to be hope. And hope is a tender foolish thing.
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Megumi can't remember how or when they went from friends to more.
What he remembers is this. It wasn't a revelation or some monumental thing. It was a fact, a simple truth, a constant. It was soft and slow, and there all along. It was no transition at all.
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He remembers dancing in the kitchen , a bright red apron around yuuji's waist, the smell of food cooking filling his chest making him feel oh so warm.
He remembers leaning down to kiss the scar between yuuji's eyebrows then the one at the side of his soft mouth.
He remembers nobara yelling "Not in the kitchen you heathens" before sitting on the counter letting a soft smile play on her lips, letting maki stand between her legs.
He remembers yuuji throwing his head back and laughing, Megumi's arms still wrapped around him, their chests pressed together.
He remembers feeling the laughter in his ribs and sternum as if it was his.
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He liked looking at yuuji's hands, strong and capable. Hands that pulled him out of trouble numerous times. Hands that keep saving him. Hands that feel like home.
He loved the feeling of yuuji's palm pressed to the skin of his back and loved his calloused fingers trailing up his spine, the pads soft and light, home to so much warmth.
In return, yuuji loved sitting between his legs, back pressed to his chest, fingers loosely wrapped around his wrists. He'd slowly raise Megumi's hands to his mouth, pressing it against the pads of his fingers one by one, then his palm, then the skin of his wrist right above the pulse point.
It would drive megumi crazy every time, make his breaths heavier and his cheeks warmer. And yuuji like the menace he is would just laugh.
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Everyone tended to leave them to their own devices when it seemed like they needed it.
They'd hole up in one of their rooms and spend hours upon hours counting eachother's breaths, memorizing eachother's scars.
He liked sinking into the mattress, the entire length of yuuji's body pressing his own down. He liked the feeling of belonging it spurred because for boys like megumi, that feeling didn't come around that easily.
Then yuuji with his kind hands would brush the hair off of Megumi's forehead and it felt like a hello, like an i love you, like a welcome home.
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On mornings where he woke up alone, he'd sit on the edge of the bed feet pressed to the hard floor and he'd wait until yuuji walked in, in a too short shirt and shorts with a coffee cup in each hand.
He'd smile and megumi would feel every part of his body leaning forward trying to bask in whatever bit of sunlight it could reach.
In those moments, he wished the world would stop for a fraction of a second so he could get to truly look at the absolute wonder that itadori yuuji was. He wanted to look at his mouth, warm and pink, at the bruises down his neck, at the skin of his hips and stomach that the shirt couldn't reach and at the strong lines of his thighs where the shorts cut off.
But time didn't stop and Yuuji would put the cups down and walk towards him with an endearing bounce in his steps. He'd lean down and kiss the skin of megumi's fluttering eyelids.
And megumi, well he felt like crying every single time.
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Sometimes megumi would read out loud for the both of them with itadori tucked to his side, head against his chest.
He remembers this feeling of urgency that overwhelmed him one night, pink hair tickling the inside of his arm. He remembers his mind screaming at him to tell this boy how precious he is. So he put the book down.
"Yuuji," he breathed. "Can you sit up for a second?"
"But why?" he whined "i'm so comfortable"
"Please" even to his own ears he sounded desperate and breatheless.
Yuuji quickly sat up his brows furrowed.
"This is going to sound stupid and dramatic," megumi interrupted him before he could open his mouth. "But I need to tell you because I can't handle the thought of you not knowing how-"
A hand on his knee stopped him from saying more. He took it as an opportunity to breathe in and out and focus on yuuji's eyes and the soft pink of his hair.
"You don't need to say it for me to know megumi," It was warm so warm. "I know because it's you and i know everything there is to know"
And wasn't that the undisputable truth? Yuuji knew him inside out. He had taken a scalpel to soft skin and took each of his organs out, one by one, looked them over tenderly then put them back. He himself had given him that scalpel, had let him peer inside his chest.
"Even so, i want to say it. I want you to hear it so there's no place for doubt. I want you to know that you saved me that first day we met and then kept on doing it. I know i don't know how to word things the right way but you always get it so I'm going to try my best." He reached for yuuji's hand. "You are my light, my soul and my home. And i love you seems so juvenile against the immensity of what i feel. What I'm sure of, is this. My heart hasn't belonged to me for a while now. And I'm, against my better judgement, okay with it"
Then he looked up and couldn't stop looking at his soulmate, his one and only, despite how ridiculous that sounds. He looked at his crying blotchy face and thought i wish we had more time.
"You're so stupid" itadori laughed through his tears. "What could I possibly say that could be enough after that. I love you so much. You're my best friend. God that sounds like so little"
"It's more than enough."
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Nobara would drag them to her picnic dates with maki.
And he got to be fed by yuuji, the sun and the green of the grass making everything seem like a dream when he thought back on it.
Maybe that's what it has become.
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It went on like that; collecting thousands of tiny moments, hoarding them, locking them away so they can't be touched by time. Until it stopped.
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They spent yuuji's last night together, the three of them, huddled in the same bed, trying to say everything there is to say. None of them slept a wink.
Nobara walked out for a while halfway through the night making up some excuse about needing to see maki to recharge. They could tell she wanted to give them a few moments of privacy.
They lay down facing each other, drinking each other in.
Then yuuji leaned forward painstakingly slow, his eyes never leaving Megumi's until their lips brushed once, twice, three times.
"Kiss me fushiguro"
So he did. He kissed him and he kissed him then he kissed him some more, the sweet taste of his tongue from the cake that gojo brought them mixing with the salt of their tears.
"I don't want to let you go yet." megumi managed between kisses. "Not yet."
"Don't be an idiot. We still have time." Yuuji said petting his hair, brushing it off his forehead followed by feather kisses all over his face; on the tip of his nose, his cheeks, the space between his eyes, the corner of his mouth and so on until there wasn't any space that wasn't touched by yuuji's soft lips.
When Nobara came in later, she pretended not to notice their red faces and puffy eyes then proceeded to throw herself on top of them disrupting their sad little bubble.
And when Yuuji, his back against Megumi's chest asked "can i hold you while I sleep?"
"That's going too far" she answered glaring at them.
She still let him hold her.
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It wasn't like they didn't look for a solution or a way out. It's just that they found nothing. No matter how many people looked or how far they searched. There was always nothing.
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Megumi thought he sorted through his emotions a long time ago. He thought he took all of his pain and anger, sorted through them then tucked them away once and for all.
But all of his perfectly maintained composure and his polished mask of indifference got tossed out the moment yuuji turned away from him for the last time.
He remembers pleading for one more month, one more week, one more day. He remembers wailing and begging for them to not take his best friend. He remembers gojo holding him back, Nobara holding his face in her hands, cupping his cheeks, her own streaked with tears, remembers her asking him to let go fushiguro please.
He remembers seeing yuuji shaking while being led away, his shoulders hitched to his ears.
He remembers spitting venom at Gojo. Gojo who has lived through this same exact thing twice. Gojo who knew what loss felt like more than anyone else. He doesn't regret it. He wished he did.
His anger and sadness, his spite, none of them mattered. The worst still happened.
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Months later, when most of the dust has settled, when he didn't wake up choking most days of the week anymore, he finally went to gojo.
"How did you manage it?" megumi asked him bluntly. "Feeling all of this for years. How does life just keep going forward? I feel like I'm at the bottom of a well and days keep passing by and I'm just sitting there waiting for something that will never come"
Gojo's expression was rarely every serious. But at that moment he looked like he lived two lifetimes and came out of them as the sole survivor.
"You don't manage it, you feel it everyday and you let it hang over your bed every night. You look for things that remind you of him and bring them home to fill that big empty space in your room. Sometimes you'll think of a joke and turn to tell it to him just to be reminded that there's no one at your side anymore. But grief is meant to be shared megumi and you have people to share it with. So talk to Nobara, talk to me."
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Eventually life went on no matter how hard you tried to stop it. And Megumi went on to save people for himself and for yuuji because every good thing he's ever done could be traced back to one boy with pink hair, a kind smile and fire in his eyes.