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When one is born, they are marred with stains on their skin, permanent markers of death, not their own, but of the one their soul truly resonated with. Some cherish them, a final goodbye, a caring touch. Others despise them as they make a promise of loss, a reminder to the death that will pull them apart.
Megumi Fushiguro was born with lips pressed flush on his hairline and arms wound around his back, holding him close. He doesn’t mind them too much, nor does he hate them, they are part of him, hidden enough so no one pays attention to them. He has seen people, with palms rested on their cheeks or lips pressed against theirs, it was a curious thing he thought, to wonder was each kiss their last.
Sometimes they spoke about it, Kugisaki had a pair of hands clasped around her left hand, and Itadori had a palm grasped around his shoulder.
When he first met Gojo-sensei, he had looked at the man and decided he probably didn't have any, he was a weirdo, probably too weird to find a fool to love him, and what a fool Megumi was, he snorted at the thought and raised his gaze to look at the rest of the group. Everyone was gearing up for the fight. It was unsettling in a calming way.
In a world where they are told a few lived past their 18th birthday, being battle ready becomes second nature, yet this kind of battle was one they haven’t faced before. Kugisaki was on the phone, probably with Maki knowing her, maybe they were talking strategy or just talking about what they will do after the fight is over. He stood up and stretched his legs. The plan was pretty easy enough to understand. They were waiting for Gojo-sensei to appear, he was the one who would tackle the bulk, he was the strongest after all.
And speak of the devil a tuft of white appeared, Gojo strolled towards them, it was soon to start. An exchange of pleasantries, a quick hello, and no goodbye, they will see each other again. The blindfold met his eyes, a stupid smile sending Megumi into an fake grimace of annoyance. Gojo walked over, with a skip to his steps.
"A hug for good luck?" He hummed.
"As if, there are people waiting for us to do things" Megumi huffed yet lifted himself to his feet. No one was looking their way, and who knows how long the entire Shibuya situation will take. He opened his arms.
And Gojo like the man-child he was twirled into his arms, almost evoking a laugh out of Megumi. He lets himself relax into the hold, uncertain of when the fight will be over, he kind of hoped soon, as dumb as it was Kugisaki wanted to go see that movie in the cinema which Itadori somehow managed to get him hooked. He pressed his face into Gojo’s shoulder, relaxing into the hold during the calm before the oncoming storm. He felt Gojo freeze in his hold, for the shortest of moments the man seemed to turn to ice, and Megumi started pulling back.
Anyone else would have missed it, but he didn’t, he let his eyes travel up confused.
"Sorry Gumi, I should start heading off, hm? People are waiting after all." He muttered, and something was wrong, Gojo’s voice was… off? It was happy, but not really happy.
His thoughts were halted by a pair of lips.
Pressed on his hairline, and arms pulling him in, a final hug. His heart stuttered to a stop. And a silent ‘No’ may have left his lips. But he couldn’t move, he couldn’t speak. Not when the lips he never longed to feel grounded him in a reality he never wanted to face. His hands fist in the fabric of Gojo’s shirt, and maybe a sob leaves his lips, he doesn't know, he doesn't want to know.
He feels hands leave his back and lips shy away from his head, and he wants to scream. He can't move though, like the weight of the world fell upon him, he stood rooted as the fool's love stepped away to perform a final act.
“Sorry Gumi.” He whispered again, and Megumi felt his world tilt.
“No.” He mumbled again, reaching out, grabbing at the retreating form.
“People will die-'' There was a wetness to those words, a pain from within, like a bleeding heart choking the man alive.
“YOU WILL DIE!” Megumi screamed out, not caring about the eyes that found their bodies, at the gasps that sounded around them, at the silent tears that slid down his face.
“Yeah.. and I hope to god I will, because it means you will live to see the next day.” Megumi froze as he felt Gojo’s eyes meet his through their barrier and before he could utter another word or scream another plea the man disappeared, forever his brain whispered, I will find him his heart replied.
.... .- .... .- / .. -- -- .- / -.- .. .-.. .-.. . -.. / -- . --. ..- -- ..
It was only after hours had passed, that Gojo alone with his thoughts had realised, this wasn’t death. And just like when a head pressed into his shoulder for a final time, he felt tears form in his eyes. He hoped, with his entire heart, that here he will remain, for a long time, if not forever. However long it took, to let that boy live.
To let live the only one he would call his love and his life.
But deep down he knew that good men rarely lived good lives. Megumi, his beloved little fool wouldn’t stop and he hated it, but there was always a first, a first to break the rules. Maybe he will see him again.
..-. .- .-.. ... . / .... --- .--. . / -- -.-- / --. ..- -.--
He never let himself call them the last markings, they were not, they did not mean the end. No matter how many times others looked at him with their sad smiles and apologetic glances. How stupid were they. This isn't the end, he knew that he was going to get him back.
Years have passed, roughly three by now, and with each day he was getting closer. With each step he was nearing Gojo, he knew it. Who cares if the others stopped. Who cares if those who he called friends cried for him. They did not understand.
He needs this.
And he got it. Finally, the cursed black box lay in front of him, and laughter bubbled out of his chest. Itadori was here too, he was keeping the curses at bay, he was giving him time, the only one still willing. Megumi laughed like he had never done before, a real laugh broke out of him, and he could hear the confusion arising from Itadori but he couldn't care less. This was it.
The box opened, and within seconds he was faced with eyes that haunted his dreams. Megumi smiled, opening his arms wide, his lips feeling like they were being pulled apart, his eyes never leaving those opened anew. Those which held a haunted expression, a fear and a pain. Why wasn’t he coming. Why wasn’t he smiling. Didn’t he do it? Didn’t he beat faith? He took a step forward and the world tilted.
Steps leaving behind red marks, a pain blossoming within him, eyes blurring, he stepped forward. Arms did reach out to greet him, words never reached him. He felt his heart stutter and a sob broke past his lips.
There was no warning when his life chose to slip out of his grasp. There was no beauty in the way he fell to his knees. There was no love in the eyes that followed his fall.
His world ended in the darkness that he once wielded, he wanted to laugh, to cry. But all he did was curse faith. How rude, to make him only face the dark when his only light stood in front of him. He hopes his “I'm sorry” reached past his lips. He hopes the man would forgive him.
We’ll never be the strongest together.
In the end, all he was was a fool. And how glad he was that the Fool’s love would outlive the Fool.