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ACT I. IS THE ACT OF DAYDREAMING A GENUINE PASTIME, OR IS IT MERELY A DISTRACTION FROM WHAT IS TO COME?
The moment when Itadori flops down in front of him, with a grace and a special kind of poise that he didn’t think Itadori could attempt, forget about while on death’s door, Megumi stays painstakingly quiet.
He feels the urge to laugh, to force out all of the cramped feelings in his throat at the pure irony of his predicament, but he doesn’t let it come. If he laughs, he’ll never stop, and if he doesn’t stop, it’ll turn into horrendous sobs that won’t let him get back up again. He’ll wreck himself, broken and laid out in jagged pieces that he’ll never be able to crookedly put back together again.
I might as well be going insane, he grimaces, feeling light-headed and nauseous now. He feels the slight crick in his neck from tilting it up for so long, but he cannot bring his head back down now. If he looks down and sees even a strand of that vibrant pink hair, or those calloused hands that he had held carefully so many times, or that one little scar on a broad shoulder, he thinks he’ll be sick right next to Itadori's cold, dead heart.
Megumi’s not a very sentimental person. He knows that he’s left all sentiments and raw emotions behind in his life.
Even so, his life flashes before his eyes in a choppy film reel.
When Gojo showed up, with his annoying face and irritating demeanor and infuriating height, and told him that he was about to be sold, Megumi stayed quiet.
When his fist met the beat-up faces of middle school delinquents, Megumi stayed quiet. He dodged every weak punch with ease, felt his rough knuckles on their skin as their lights were knocked out with precise motions. He arranged them into a gloomy pile with a calm energy flowing in his veins.
Quiet, quiet, quiet. It’s always been quiet , he thinks.
Megumi grits his teeth, embarrassed by his own corniness, but the exact thought that he was waiting for still pops up. Until he came along.
His mind, an ever-present enemy, overwhelms him and floods him with thoughts now. He remembers Kugisaki and Itadori hounding him, prancing about loudly with talks of vacations and paradise, the novelty of it all shining bright in their eyes. He remembers eating in his room with the bruise on his head smarting, but he didn’t quite feel the pain anymore as Itadori animatedly acted out some wild story of his, Megumi’s cheeks aching with unbridled laughter.
The tears are mingling with the rain now, tasting salty and vicious on the tip of his tongue, so he lifts Itadori’s body into his arms. The chokehold of grief winds its way around his throat, but he firmly shoves it down, resists the urge to close his eyes against the elephant in the room, and drags his rotted soul to Ijichi-san’s car.
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ACT II. IN VISIONS OF THE DARK NIGHT, I HAVE DREAMED OF JOYS DEPARTED
- EDGAR ALLAN POE.
He's being held.
Megumi’s bleary-eyed and his world is foggy, but his conscious is perfectly clear. Arms encapsulate his waist loosely and hair tickles his ear, soft and gentle, a comforting presence. He hears a clicking sound somewhere around his chest, probably fingers against a phone screen.
Itadori chuckles lightly into Megumi’s hair at something he’s seen, and then immediately cuts himself off, realizing Megumi’s awake.
“Hey.”
Megumi will not smile. Megumi will not smile. Megumi will not smile.
He grins, loud and boisterous, a proud devotee to Itadori’s beauty. “Hey.”
It’s quiet again, silence settling around them as Megumi’s eyes clear. He sinks into Itadori’s embrace. It can’t be helped; the boy is a human furnace.
Suddenly, arms are lifted from his waist, and Megumi can’t help but feel disappointment flare in the pits of his stomach.
Itadori’s face comes into view, upside down above him but smiling warmly nonetheless. “A meme I posted online blew up this morning!”
Megumi’s face flattens into a frown. He’s never felt more affection than this in his life. “Don’t tell me you recorded Nobara falling and posted it online.”
The other’s grin widens, revealing gleaming teeth. Megumi has never wanted to kiss someone more. “Yuuji. Yuuji, please. If you die today, I’m not the one to blame.”
Itadori laughs, booming and loud. His presence fills up the entire room, Megumi thinks. His heart is full and fit to bursting and his throat is overflowing with laughter.
They wheeze over trivial things until they can’t think anymore, and Megumi doesn’t think he’s ever been happier than he is now.
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ACT III. NO MATTER HOW YOU RUN FROM REALITY, HOW HIGH YOU LEAP, HOW QUICK YOU SWITCH FROM FOOT TO FOOT, HOW QUIETLY YOU HIDE BEHIND BUSHES WITHOUT MAKING A SOUND, IT'LL NEVER STOP CHASING YOU.
IT SNEAKS UP BEHIND YOU AND TAPS YOU ON THE SHOULDER WHEN YOU ARE LEAST EXPECTING IT.
He wakes up with a cold bed, a sweaty forehead, and no one to push his bangs back for him. No one to nuzzle into his neck, no one to kiss his cheek, no one to tell him to rest after a grueling day.
It’s really very strange; he’s never dreamt of past memories before, has he?
There’s something stinging in his throat. It’s persistent, that’s for sure, and it pokes and pokes and pokes until Megumi gives in.
He cries.
He digs the heel of his palm into his eyes until he sees constellations. He feels the tears on his chin and the thorns in his heart. He sees Itadori’s untouched hoodie draped over the headboard of his bed and the clamps over his heart grow impossibly tighter.
Megumi doesn’t think he’s ever been in more despair than he is now.
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ACT IV.
HOWEVER, THERE IS ONE MORE QUESTION REMAINING. WE HAVE BEEN VIEWING REALITY AS A BAD THING UP UNTIL NOW, BUT IS IT TRULY? OR IS IT A COVER-UP, SOMETHING THREATENING HIDING SOMETHING EXPLOSIVE?
THE PEEL ENCLOSING THE ORANGE IS BEING RIPPED APART, THE INSIDES BEING REVEALED. WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?
Somewhere, on a metallic bed in a desolate infirmary, pink hair twitches as dazed eyes are opened.
A new chapter has begun.