Work Text:
Why did you have to fall for him, of all people?
The winter sun was setting, allowing the sky to be dotted with pinks and oranges, as long snake-like clouds swept the heavens. A whispering wind whistles, causing barren sticks and branches on trees and shrubberies to bounce and waltz, casting shadows that groove and sway on your crumpled, unmade bed sheets. Your hunched back however, closed away in the corner, drooped over your desk. Upon that desk lay a single, empty yellow post-it note, and next to it sat a single wooden pencil. Your head lay in your clenched hands, gripping the roots of your hair until your scalp was sore. You knew what you had to write. You knew that you were going to go absolutely insane if you didn’t write it. Yet, his response was already given. Fear drove your heart out of your rib cage, your lip shooting strings of agony from how hard you were biting it. A single shaky hand met the cold hardness of the yellow pencil. Graphite scratched the paper, the three-syllable confession now staring back at you. You straighten your posture, peeling the note off of the wooden desk. Your stomach became a circus, chaos and energy squeezing and tightening your core. Would you give it directly to him? No, your heart couldn’t handle that. Stuck to his door maybe? Too public, he would get ridiculed. You folded the paper, so that the words were inside the fold, and stood up from your chair. You knew now how you would give the letter to him.
You opened your door slightly, checking to see if anyone was around. Some notes of conversation up the hall, in the dorm next to yours, your room being the very last one in the stretch of hallway. The chillness of the air filled your lungs, giving you the smallest droplets of confidence you needed to walk the infinite hallway. Your heart raced, quicker and quicker with each sputtering step through the corridor. As you passed Itadori’s room, you remarked that the noises were, in fact, coming from his dorm. No matter, that didn’t affect your journey.
You’d never felt so small against a door. However no sounds were caught from within the room, which eased your frail soul. Your chest grew and caved, taking in deep, icy breaths as you fell to your knees. You slid the note under his door, gently and carefully, making sure not to crumple or ruin it. You straightened back up onto your feet, knowing damn well that the next step was to wait. The most agonizing part of this all.
A creak of a door’s hinges made you flinch. To your right, Itadori’s door opened. Out stepped through the door was a boy with spiky, raven-black hair, dark piercing eyes, and a straight mouth. Headphones wrapped around his neck, over top of his blank white shirt and baggy black bottoms.
You were standing right outside of this boy’s dorm room.
After writing a confession letter to him.
Shit.
You scurried around the corner. Hoping to god that he didn’t see you, you monitored your heaving breaths, clenching the area around your chest where your heart thrashed. You knew eavesdropping was impolite, but it was taking all of your effort not to listen in on what the boy was about to say.
The crack of his door was greeted with murmurs of confusion, followed by subtle sounds of paper.
The ringing in your ears that followed his silence was deafening.
Floorboards wheezed and coughed, a rough hand gripping the corner in which you hid weakly. You yelped, meeting eyes with him. There, he stood in front of you, your shadow casting onto his tall body. His dark eyes studied your glossy [e/c] eyes. You felt your weight become more and more difficult to handle with each passing moment in which the lull grew. He lifted his wrist to show the note, clasped between two fingers. “This was you, wasn’t it?”
You could do nothing but watch the yellow post it in his hands. Seconds passed, and not a reaction was heard from you, yet his patience brought you in. He didn’t nag at you, he didn’t push you to spit out what you couldn’t have said. Yet calm and loneliness flooded your chest. You nodded, an exhale filling the space between the two of you, not realizing that you were holding it in.
The tall boy sighed, his arm dropping to his side. You looked up to meet his fixated look, only to find it meeting the ground next to you. His cheeks were as pink as a strawberry patch, his lips tightened, his hands clenched at his waist. “Fushiguro,” you mumbled, your heart breaking with each second that passed. "Do you like me back?"
Fushiguro kept his eyes on the ground. “I can’t- I don’t-“ The boy started. You reached out to hold him, to console him - yet he pushed you away, his cold fingers grazing yours. "I'm sorry," he whispered hoarsely. Those two words were daggers, each piercing your heart more and more as the clock ticked the time away as the two of you stood there, the universe completely still.
"Why can't you," you pleased softly, your voice breaking quietly in the quiet corridor. He met your eyes once more, and you were surprised to meet sadness within their monotone hardness. "Because," he said, his voice low and deep. "All jujitsu sorcerers will meet the same end."