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It wasn’t the lack of sleep that bothered him; that, he could deal with. A quick cat-nap in the shade somewhere, any afternoon he could get it, was fine. He’d gotten used to that ages ago, when Gojo first started sending him on missions. Sorcerers often stayed up all night and napped whenever and wherever they could. It wasn’t even the tossing and turning that bothered him, or the flailing limbs. Sure, it was annoying to be woken from his own fitful dreams by a hard smack in the face, but he could deal with that, too.
The only thing he couldn’t deal with was the haunted look in Yuuji’s eyes.
“Time for bed, hmm?” He pressed a kiss onto Yuuji’s shoulder. Yuuji smiled around the handle of his toothbrush and gave a small nod. He spat, rinsed, and straightened up.
“Will you stay with me again?” He asked, as he always did, as if he needed to. When Megumi nodded, Yuuji smiled again; a sincere smile this time, but one that still did nothing to relieve the pain that always seemed to lurk behind his caramel eyes.
They changed and slid into the small bed in silence. Yuuji snuggled close to Megumi’s chest, his pink hair tickling Megumi’s chin lightly. Megumi inhaled the soft, citrusy-clean scent and wished for the millionth time that he could pass some of the peace he felt on to Yuuji.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t done some things he regretted, during the culling game. Well, maybe regretted wasn’t accurate; he had done some things he wouldn’t brag about. Shibuya and the Game had left scars for him, too. But at the end of it, he’d been able to save Tsumiki, he’d reunited with Yuuji and finally, finally admitted how he felt; their friends had largely survived, though with physical and mental scars of their own. Yes, he’d taken lives and he had done some things that he wasn’t proud of, but they had saved Gojo and put the world on a better path. He wasn’t a hero, he didn’t have to do the right thing all the time. The people close to him were safe, and that was enough for him.
Yuuji, though…Megumi pulled him closer still, his bare chest unnaturally hot even through Megumi’s worn t-shirt. Yuuji hadn’t been the same since Shibuya.
Megumi closed his eyes and, as he often did before he fell asleep, remembered Yuuji the day they met, Yuuji on his first mission with Nobara, Yuuji stuffing himself with so much sushi he could barely move. Even during the exchange event with the Kyoto School, when he had already become so different, he’d been the same Yuuji that Megumi met that first day — committed to doing the right thing and saving as many people as he could, indiscriminately. He remembered Yuuji’s playful teasing, his laugh, and a smile slid across his own lips. Yuuji was the only thing that never failed to make him smile.
He dropped a kiss onto Yuuji’s warm forehead and closed his eyes again, letting sleep overtake him.
****
Megumi awoke as he often did to Yuuji’s terrified cries. He sat bolt upright, finding Yuuji’s body missing from the bed next to him. As his eyes adjusted, they landed on a dark shape huddled on the ground next to Yuuji’s wardrobe. Megumi rushed over and dropped to his knees.
“Yuuji. Yuuji, baby, wake up,” he hissed. He put a hand gently on Yuuji’s arm, but Yuuji only whimpered and shifted away from him.
“I didn’t mean to,” he cried out, over and over, and then: “Please, stop. You have to stop!”
Megumi tried again. “Yuuji. Please wake up. It’s Megumi. You’re safe, okay?”
Yuuji snarled. Before Megumi could react, Yuuji had him pinned to the floor by his throat, his face contorted in a mix of rage and pain. Megumi tried to keep his mind calm as he started to run out of oxygen. He clasped gentle hands around Yuuji’s wrists and pushed lightly, relieving the pressure just enough for him to breathe. He called Yuuji’s name over and over, softly, whispered like a prayer into the darkness.
The hands didn’t leave his throat; Yuuji’s strong body pinned him to the ground. His expression changed, though, shifting from rage to pure pain. His tears splotched Megumi’s shirt unevenly.
“Please,” he whispered raggedly, “please, no. I won’t let you hurt them.”
Megumi’s chest constricted sharply with pain for Yuuji. He relinquished his hold on Yuuji’s wrists and brought both hands up to the sides of his face, caressing gently with his thumbs. He traced them over the scars decorating Yuuji’s face, ignoring the renewed pressure on his windpipe and the blackness wavering around the edges of his vision.
“I love you, Yuuji,” he choked out. “Sorry for this.”
He moved his hands so they cast a shadow against the wall in the moonlight.
“Gyō...” he started, but more tears splattered against his shirt and he stopped. His hands shifted, and he managed to choke out the name before the darkness closed in. Just before he lost consciousness, the pressure on his throat eased. He gasped for breath gratefully and pushed himself upright, massaging his throat. When his vision cleared, his eyes found Yuuji. His back rested against the side of their bed, his head bowed, his arms cradling as many of the small, white rabbits as he could reach. Others crowded around him, their wiggling noses tickling his sides. He giggled, and Megumi’s heart melted the way it always did when he heard Yuuji laugh.
“Man, I love rabbit escape,” Yuuji laughed. He snuggled one rabbit close to his face, burying his nose in its fur. When he released it, his eyes found Megumi’s.
“Thanks,” he said. Then his eyes flicked down to Megumi’s throat and back up, filled with horror. He dropped the rabbit and clapped a hand over his mouth.
“Megucchan,” he breathed through his fingers, “I’m so sorry.” He closed the distance between them and reached out gingerly to run his fingertips over the bruises. Megumi winced, and Yuuji drew back. Tears welled up in his eyes again.
“You should go,” he choked. He turned his face away from Megumi and rubbed his eyes hard with the heels of his hands. “I don’t want to hurt you again.”
Megumi ignored him and scooted closer, instead, through the field of wiggling white fur. He wrapped his arms around Yuuji’s waist.
“Rabbit escape worked, right?” He scooped up one of the bunnies and plopped it in Yuuji’s lap. “Now I know. No problem.”
Yuuji picked up the rabbit; something unfamiliar flashed across his eyes, and Megumi thought for a moment that he was going to wring its neck. But the moment passed, and Yuuji snuggled his face into the white fur instead.
“I just don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Yuuji groaned. “You seem fine. You and Kugisaki and Maki and everyone seem…like you’re okay with everything that happened. Everything we did.”
“Everything we had to do, to survive,” Megumi reminded him, knowing it wouldn’t make a difference. “There’s nothing wrong with you, my love.” He pressed his lips against Yuuji’s bare shoulder and left them there. After a moment, it shook beneath his mouth; he glanced up to find Yuuji sobbing again, his head falling back against the bed, hands pressed against his eyes as though he could force the flood back inside him. His shuddering, gulping breaths ripped through Megumi’s chest, too. He kissed his way up Yuuji’s neck and slid onto his lap, their chests pressed tightly together.
“Yuuji, talk to me,” he begged. He released the rabbits back to the shadows and they were alone again, just the two of them and Yuuji’s ragged breathing rattling around the room.
“How can you still love me?” His voice was steady, now, but he didn’t lower his hands away from his eyes. “I’m not the same as I was when we met. I’m - I’m a murderer, Megumi. And not just because of Sukuna.”
Megumi’s heart twisted uncomfortably in his chest.
“So am I,” he said. He pulled Yuuji’s hands gently down and away from his face. “Hey. Look at me.”
Their eyes finally met, Yuuji’s caramel-brown, haunted and reddened with tears. Megumi pressed his palms to the sides of his cheeks and dragged his thumbs through the dampness there.
“You’re not the same as when we met,” he agreed, “and neither am I.” He paused to shift against Yuuji so his legs could wrap around Yuuji’s hips.
“But I don’t just love you for who you were when we met. You don’t have to be happy and goofy all the time for me to love you.”
Yuuji’s eyes welled up; he gulped and nodded hard.
“Same,” he managed to choke out. “Which is good, since you’re never goofy.” He tugged Megumi’s shirt up so he could wipe his eyes, and they laughed together. Megumi tugged his chin up and pressed his lips against Yuuji’s. They melted into each other as always, lips and tongues caressing each other with the ease of long practice. When Megumi finally pulled away, Yuuji panted desperately, and smiled. Megumi stood and scooped Yuuji into his arms, noting with a pang how thin he’d gotten. Yuuji grinned up at him.
“I didn’t know you were strong enough to carry me,” he laughed.
Megumi wanted to tell him that he wouldn’t be, if Yuuji was himself, if his body hadn’t been wasted away by the grief and guilt that prevented him from eating. But instead he put on the smile that he always kept for Yuuji.
“Well, I am,” he snipped back, “let someone else be strong for once, Yucchan.” He dumped Yuuji unceremoniously back onto the bed and climbed in next to him.
“Now, bedtime for real,” he commanded. Yuuji nodded and snuggled in close.
“Can we have some bunnies again?”
Megumi smiled against Yuuji’s hair and twisted his hands into shape, calling the flood of white fur into existence. The rabbits snuggled around them like a living blanket, their wiggling noses tickling pleasantly. Yuuji sighed contentedly and Megumi watched as he gradually drifted off into a peaceful sleep.