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Sometimes Yuuji sees things—things that perhaps he isn’t meant to pry on, but he stumbles upon that leave him too curious to look away from anyway.
Yuuji is a curious person by nature. He follows the path of whichever road that attracts his mind and eyes, whichever that promises him an adventure ahead—which is a weird way to call prying on another person’s daily life, he understands that, and no—he isn’t a nosy person in the slightest, to dig around in something that isn’t his business until he has answers, no, he isn’t that.
But sometimes some things happen that are too peculiar to leave behind without getting an explanation for it.
It’s the little things at first, the drops of hints that Yuuji doesn’t see too important to squint at and shrugs away nonchalantly.
The first time he’s let into Fushiguro’s room is a few days after the start of their first year (only his and Kugisaki’s, Fushiguro has apparently been an only student for a few months). Are you hiding a treasure or something here? He says—with a smile he had to keep on his face to be let in after a few knocks on his door, and he keeps it up even after Fushiguro’s passive what do you want when he opened the door—as he steps into the room, eyes looking around and taking in the environment.
Fushiguro’s room isn’t still what he expected it to be like—with that personality of his, you’d expect the bare minimum of decorations, the blandest colors to give life to his room but no—he’s surprised to be met with the opposite of what he expected to see; the hanging beads near Fushiguro’s bed that he raises his eyebrows at, the faint but still apparent patterns on his bedsheets that Yuuji later cranks his neck and squints his eyes at to understand better and the art hanging on the wall over his bed. It all gives him a new perspective on the quiet, black haired guy’s personality.
Fushiguro scoffs and rolls his eyes at his remark, stepping away to his bed where a book is dropped over opened.
Yuuji’s eyes are immediately drawn to the small bookcase that is standing in the corner of Fushiguro’s room, and he lets his eyes roam over the names on the spines as his ears perk up at the sounds of a phone—probably Fushiguro’s—vibrating. If there is anything that resembles the calm and collected nature of the black haired guy’s personality, it’s his books. Yuuji can’t guess even one based on the names, and he guesses none of them are something he’s familiar with. “Yo, you got anything that’s less—serious?”
Fushiguro is typing on his phone when Yuuji glances back at him to see what he’s doing, and he’s curious, curious to know who the person on the other line is because the guy doesn’t seem to be the type to have many friends (which is fine, it isn’t as if Yuuji has that many friends himself).
The black haired guy throws him a deadpan look up from under his ridiculously long eyelashes when he’s done typing. “No. Go back to your own room if you’ve come here for a book.”
So cold , Yuuji falters a bit. He makes a sound with his lips, and instead moves his attention to something else in the room. Namely, the small bowl that’s filled with—candies on the bedside table.
If there is something he remembers learning about Fushiguro, it’s the fact that he doesn’t like sweets. He remembers that distinctive memory of a few days ago, when Gojo-sensei had trolled him and Kugisaki to a mission after picking up the girl from Harajuku station. The man wanted to treat them to a pastry shop (“Don’t lie, you’re only taking us there to buy sweets for yourself.” Fushiguro had muttered with his head in his phone, to which Gojo-sensei only cackled at and shrugged), and later at the restaurant when everyone served themselves desserts, Fushiguro made a face at Gojo-sensei when the man offered him some. A little into what Fushiguro is like, Yuuji babbled to himself when he heard the guy mutter about his hatred for sweet dishes (and thinned his lips into a line when the blindfolded man tried to make him eat a piece anyway).
Yuuji points a finger at the bowl of sweets. “I thought you hated sweets.”
Fushiguro stops typing on his phone and looks up with a passive expression on his face. “I do.”
“Then what’ve you got these sweets for?”
There is a pause in the moment, Fushiguro seemingly at a loss for words despite the lack of emotion on his face, then; “They’re not sweet.” He says.
Yuuji is left confused for a moment, eyebrows twisting. He could swear that he saw flavored sweets in that bowl. “But—”
“I’m kicking you out if you’re here to bother me and inspect everything in my room .” Fushiguro reprimands with a harsh tone and a firm, scary frown that shuts Yuuji right up.
Despite Fushiguro’s attitude, his eyes still drift to the bowl a few more times, and he isn’t sure if he buys Fushiguro’s—perhaps he should call it a bluff. Still, he keeps himself from mentioning the sweets, if Fushiguro doesn’t feel like explaining why he’s got a bowl of those in his room, that’s his business, not Yuuji’s.
It would be something to dwell on, specially since the bowl is never left completely empty, always full with colorful wrapped sweets.
_______
Gojo-sensei is a busy man, something Yuuji learns of quickly as he never seems to catch the blindfolded man resting. He’s always in motion, always walking from one room to another, visiting him in the basement Yuuji has to spend his time in until he doesn’t have to hide anymore, and sparring with him in the gym area of the school (somehow away from prying eyes).
Even if the man’s schedule seems to be tiring, he doesn’t let it show on his face, or even shake up his body language and speaking. Which only leaves Yuuji impressed.
Yuuji starts to wonder, he starts to become a little curious each time he spends time with Gojo. He can’t help but lean forward and take mental notes every time he learns something new about the man (one that doesn’t involve with him boasting about it with confidence).
Maybe it’s the boredom that takes up place in his attention span after a while of training, when the movies don’t keep him too intrigued anymore and he’s skilled enough to move his eyes away from the TV screen without getting punched in his face, that’s when his eyes follow Gojo-sensei when the man gets up and walks up the stairs out of the basement after a flash of light from the phone in his hand twists a smile on his lips.
Gojo-sensei is as mysterious as he could get, being the strongest sorcerer and all, it’s almost comically intriguing. Yuuji’s half twitching to let his curiosity get the better half of him and ask who’s on the other line, but something tells him the man won’t give him an answer.
And it’s still none of his business, so he lets it go.
Until a night when Gojo asks Ijichi to pull over at a supermarket after accompanying Yuuji on a curse killing spree.
Yuuji's picking through a bunch of snacks (Gojo allowed him to pick whatever he wants as usual), when his attention is pulled towards the blindfolded man—how he doesn’t attract unwanted attention towards himself from normal people for covering up his eyes, Yuuji is sort of amused by. Gojo’s seemingly looking through the health and medicine section, humming to himself before picking up a small box of—condoms.
Which has Yuuji promptly choking on nothing when he notices the size written on the box. The boy immediately turns his head back to the snacks in front of him, not wanting to get caught looking by his teacher, eyes wide.
Well—that was a thing that he witnessed without meaning to.
Yuuji may be feeling a bit sheepish when he puts his snacks on the counter, and he may be putting a fake smile on his face (and he may be ignoring Sukuna’s complaints at feeling the boy’s moments of shame) as Gojo talks to him about his progress in handling his cursed energy, and he can’t help sliding his eyes to where the man’s crotch is when he’s certain Gojo is occupied with his phone.
It isn’t as if Yuuji is overthinking about his teacher’s—Gojo’s—that.
It sort of makes sense in Yuuji’s mind for his teacher to be well-endowed, blessed in everything. He is the strongest after all. However, his mood sours when he knows Gojo is the only reason girls are pulled towards them. Can girls actually sense that from just a look?
But also, this raises another point for Yuuji. He never thought Gojo had another person, a special person in his life, as he’d been a witness to the man playing along with a girl’s attempt at flirting (and yet another thing to be impressive about Gojo-sensei, Yuuji’s sort of tired of finding no weak points. He’s annoyed to be proven right about the man’s occasional bragging of being perfect), but perhaps he was wrong in that regard and sensei has a girlfriend that he doesn’t know about (or perhaps the man has a habit of having one night stands? Yuuji can’t see why he wouldn’t, given that Gojo has—everything that a girl can ask). It would explain the mysterious someone that he keeps texting on his phone and walking away from Yuuji’s hearing range to answer his calls.
Maybe he’s simply overthinking this, but it doesn’t keep him from asking Fushiguro about it when he’s well reunited with the other two first years.
Fushiguro seems a bit closer to Gojo-sensei than everybody else, given that he’s been the man’s only student for more than a month. Maybe he knows something that the others don’t (and he doesn’t have anybody else to ask them this).
Fool of him to think that the black haired guy would give him an answer though, one that doesn’t involve him being judged harshly with a look as unimpressively condescending as he could get from Fushiguro. “What?” The guy spits out.
Yuuji scratches the back of his head, feeling awkward as hell. “Well—this one night, we were out and I just—saw him buy condoms—that’s all. Oh! And he’s sometimes on his phone? Like, smiling and all. It just got me curious.” Yuuji stutters out, muttering the last part as he darts his gaze elsewhere than looking at Fushiguro.
Who seems a tad bit too expressive, a surprisingly maddened expression coloring his face before he twists his lips in a scoff, looking away and rubbing the back of his neck. He doesn’t say anything for quite a while, and Yuuji wonders where he has gone wrong with asking him about this before the guy starts talking again. He mutters something under his breath first that Yuuji can’t quite make out, but he thinks it might just be Fushiguro cursing.
“No, there’s no one. I don’t think. And I don’t think it’s your business to know about that. Or mine.” He ends his sentence with a stern look that brings embarrassment to Yuuji’s face, and Yuuji nods his head a few times in an apology while he tries to push away the disappointment from capturing his face.
Fushiguro’s answer doesn’t satiate Yuuji’s curiosity for wanting to get to know their teacher better, but it does put his mindless asking around to a stop.
Who knows, maybe if he spends enough time with Gojo he’ll get to know the man’s other half.
_______
Kugisaki started the nickname ‘grumpy cat’ as a way to describe Fushiguro once for how repulsive he acts by having other people in his personal space.
Fushiguro’s reaction to the nickname is still as hilarious as when he was told to his face, cranking up a laugh out of Yuuji every time he’s reminded of it.
Gojo-sensei had chuckled to the nickname as well, saying it cutely fits Fushiguro when he heard it as he stepped into the classroom. He walked up to the three of them and stood next to Fushiguro, reaching a hand out of his uniform pocket to ruffle the guy’s erratic hair as he said: “Isn’t he?”
Fushiguro had slapped his hand away with a scoff and a twist of his lips, to which Gojo answered with an amused chuckle and a rather long glance in the guy’s way before eventually moving away to start the already late class.
And it is true in its amusing honesty; Fushiguro is as respectful of everyone as he could be, and he expects the same of others, so it is expected of him to become annoyed and irritated when somebody gets in his personal space. Namely; Yuuji himself and Kugisaki. There are times when the two rush into invading his personal space on purpose just to get a reaction out of him (but also catch him at the right time to drag the guy away to a night out in the city).
And then there is Gojo-sensei.
Fushiguro is as aggressive with the blindfolded man as he is with his two friends, except perhaps he’s a bit more respectful in his attitude when rejecting the man’s public closeness—if his threatening to punch Gojo in the face which is also—hilariously and weirdly but very Fushiguro like said in a respectful tone is ignored.
Gojo-sensei never reacts to the black haired guy’s reaction with anything but amusement, and further ‘harasses’ Fushiguro with being even more affectionate with the guy, as Kugisaki has articulated it into proper words once while watching Gojo mess around with an unwilling Fushiguro with a displeased expression.
Yuuji had shrugged it away because oh well, Fushiguro did say Gojo-sensei was quirky (he does wince at Fushiguro’s ‘done’ expression).
Then there are times, times when Fushiguro acts a bit… differently than how Yuuji expects him to respond.
At first, it’s when Yuuji catches the two of them alone in an empty classroom, with Gojo-sensei leaning into Fushiguro in the space between his legs without the black haired guy calling the man out on his ignorance. It was definitely a weird moment (but not weird enough for Yuuji to dwell on it) because he could swear Gojo had his hand on Fushiguro’s face before the black haired guy backed off and out of the man’s way acutely once he became aware of Yuuji’s presence.
Yuuji searches for something abnormal in Fushiguro’s face, roaming his eyes around in worry to see if the guy has an injury or something (as seems to happen with him on missions often times. Specially when he’s sent on them alone), but he swiftly darts his gaze away when the guy snaps at him to explain his staring at him. He looks quite uncomfortable and startled as well.
He still swears there was something going on there, as the atmosphere had changed for the worst when Yuuji barged into the room, but he still can’t put his finger on what it was that changed.
Then there is a moment that almost feels…intimate, to put it into something for lack of better words to describe the scene happening.
It’s almost the end of summer, the weather well pushing them into greeting fall. They’re now officially a few months into their first year. For the first time (for Yuuji at least), Gojo was gone for more than a week. And his absence felt evident, putting a different sort of pressure on each of the students.
Gojo came back with the same cheerfulness coloring his voice, but there was a strange edge to his tone. He acted the same as usual, putting—at least Yuuji at ease. It’s still a bit weird, to not see his actual teacher in class all the time, but he understood it after a short while of living in the Jujutsu world of just how crucial the man’s presence is for them to function correctly. He still wishes he could accompany him on more missions though.
But they have just finished a mission themselves, with two first grades and one second grade that the three of them got rid of in just under an hour.
Which Yuuji guesses that is what Fushiguro is talking about with Gojo-sensei with a tablet in his hold in the hallway when he walks in and sees them standing in the corner with their backs to him.
Yuuji decides to walk towards the two to talk along with them, when he notices some little changes to the nature of their conversation which has him stopping on the spot instantly. He’s curious to know how his presence hasn’t been noticed by the other two yet while he watches them… drift into each other’s space while talking quietly. It’s clear when Fushiguro leans into Gojo-sensei’s space, the faint crank of neck hinting like he means to lean his head against the man’s shoulder. It’s something you’d blink and miss if you’re not Yuuji.
Which he thinks he did until Gojo-sensei slithers a hand around Fushiguro’s waist, pulling the guy even further into his space without a single complaint leaving Fushiguro’s mouth.
This is the most contrast to Fushiguro himself that Yuuji has been witness to so far, leaving him baffled and curious at the same time, his mouth opened ajar as he takes in the scene that is happening right before his eyes.
Yuuji backs away slowly when he notices himself staring too hard and too long in the other two’s way, and when the two continue to miss his presence in the hallway. He simply feels too awkward now to join Gojo and Fushiguro in whatever it is they’re talking about. It feels intimate, private. Like he’d ruin it if he took another step in.
Perhaps this is the strangest thing Yuuji counts as having seen so far. It’s something that’s poking at him in annoyance, something that is forcing him to become curious about what exactly is Fushiguro’s relationship with Gojo-sensei, wondering if those few months of being an only student has actually brought them close despite what Fushiguro portrays in public.
But despite the many questions that are roaming in his head, he never voices that curiosity to Fushiguro. He knows better than to do that at this point.
_______
It’s late at night. That much is Yuuji aware of as he startles awake from a rather deep sleep with a strange thirst drying up his throat.
He pauses with his eyes wide awake staring ahead of himself, blinking at the darkness of the room. The dry throat feels like sickness incoming, but Yuuji’s never gotten sick to begin with to understand the sensation so he shakes off that thought as he rises up to get himself a bottle of water from the mini fridge in his room.
Yuuji’s still mourning the reminiscence of his sleep—it’s maybe been a while since he got a good night’s sleep without Sukuna bothering him too much (it took him sometime to work around the annoying ramblings of the curse in his head, even longer to learn how to sleep without letting Sukuna bother him) when he suddenly becomes aware of his surroundings, sleep no longer forcing him to bounce on a thread inside limbo.
That’s when he pauses mid-drinking from the bottle of water, his ears picking up on… strange sounds. Strange, weird sounds that are most definitely coming from the other side of the wall which connects Yuuji’s room to Fushiguro’s.
I must be still sleepy , is Yuuji’s first thought. It almost should be no surprise to Yuuji (or anyone) that Fushiguro is as quiet and respectful in being a neighbor living next to the other’s room as his personality shows him to be, almost making no sounds, quietly spending his days in his room. Yuuji joked about him deserving a special reward just for being so feathery light on his toes that he makes no sound even on bare foot a few times.
But right now, Yuuji’s certain there are sounds coming from Fushiguro’s bedroom.
He’s slow and steady in being quiet on his end to listen carefully to the sounds he’s hearing from the other side of the wall, just to make out what it is to react accordingly to them.
It’s the sound of a… bed creaking? Yuuji makes a face at that, not sure how to process the guessing.
He decides he needs to get a little bit closer to get a better grasp on what’s happening currently, so Yuuji places the bottle of water on the counter and tip toes closer until he’s leaning with his ear flat against the wall to listen closely.
No, it’s definitely the sound of a bed creaking, or most likely, Fushiguro’s bed creaking obviously. But why is the question. One that Yuuji gets an answer for just as he thinks it, when he immediately leans back after hearing what he’s pretty sure is Fushiguro moaning. Or making breathy sounds but—
Yuuji is both horrified and confused.
There is no way he’s mistaking what the sounds are with something else. He’s heard it too many times watching porn online to consider innocently. There is definitely breathy moans coming from Fushiguro’s room.
Well, that’s just—
Yuuji balks quietly at the new information, burning red with embarrassment.
It isn’t as if Fushiguro is any different than him or anyone else—well, Yuuji does think of him as someone slightly different than everybody else he’s become acquainted with in his life, but that just proves that well—Fushiguro is apparently as human as the next person alive. A simple guy with guy-ish needs and care.
Does he watch porn too? Is that what he’s doing right now?
—What exactly is he doing now that involves the bed creaking sounds?!
Yuuji slaps himself on the cheek at the thought that just popped into his head. There is no way he’s going to allow himself to think about his best friend’s… delicate interests. Let’s call it that.
He’s considering going back to bed with a pillow over his head to try and muffle the sounds that he most definitely and humiliatingly can’t get out of his head now, when another noise echoes through the wall—this time louder and even more embarrassingly confusing than before.
Yuuji’s a hundred percent sure he just heard Fushiguro shout out harder, but not exactly shouting—just enough for him to understand the words clearly. And it was moaned out in a rather… high pitched voice, almost girly if he were to put it into words.
He stares back at the wall with comically widened eyes in complete horror.
What in the hell is exactly happening in Fushiguro’s room? It can’t be Fushiguro listening to something with the volume up that loud, it’s uncharacteristic of the guy to slip up like that. Unless—unless he believes Yuuji to be asleep? But then, he’s always going to bed at appropriate hours of the night. Unless this is the reason he’s always seemingly tired throughout the day.
It’s when the bed creaking sounds increase along with… the bed frame hitting the wall apparently that the entire scenario becomes too alarmingly confusing for Yuuji.
What’s happening? What’s Fushiguro doing in his room? Is he alright? Should Yuuji act on concerns and worry and knock on the guy’s door to see if he’s alright?
Yuuji tip toes towards the wall again, placing his ear against the wall to hear the sounds despite his better judgment and—yup, it’s definitely what Yuuji thinks is happening, the grunting and moaning can’t be mistaken for anything else.
But there is definitely a second voice that doesn’t match Fushiguro’s, the slightly raised groaning throwing Yuuji off.
That can’t be right. Yuuji leans back, staring at the wall with shock. He knows that wasn’t Fushiguro’s voice that he just heard but—that—what is that supposed to mean?! Is Fushiguro… having sex with someone in his room?
Curiosity gets the better half of him and he listens for the sounds once more, but jumps back when he hears someone else groaning out something that can be roughly made out as you feel so good.
Holy fuck , Yuuji mouths silently. Fushiguro is definitely having sex with someone right now.
Fushiguro , of all people. Who would’ve thought!
And who’s the lucky—guy, apparently, based on the different voice he heard. Yuuji’s mind races with different scenarios, different people he’s become acquainted with during his time learning Jujutsu, but he can’t put his finger on who the person can be. There aren’t many teenagers their age studying at Jujutsu Tech. But the person did sound…familiar.
There are so many questions flying through Yuuji’s head right now.
Yuuji decides he’s pried on a private moment in Fushiguro’s life that he wasn’t meant to be a part of enough, and backs away slowly with shame crawling through his skin until he’s burying himself under the blanket with his pillow over his head, to try and sleep away the moments he was a witness of in the middle of the night.
Come morning, Yuuji is hesitant on his feet to face Fushiguro after the ordeal he was forced to witness. He’s almost ready to cowardly pretend he’s come down with a cold, he’s feeling too worn out to get out from the warmth of his blanket.
Because if he sees Fushiguro, he knows he will definitely have questions that he knows won’t be qualified for answers.
Kugisaki sends him a range of colorful texts demanding he get up from bed before she kicks in the door and throws him out of the room herself. So getting up and ready out of his door and a small breakfast before an unnecessary scene is made up he does.
Fushiguro is on time, as he usually is and despite the fact that he was participating in extracurricular activities the night before, he looks—fine, if a little sleepy. And—Yuuji may be seeing things that aren’t actually true, but he may have seen Fushiguro’s face twitch into something close to discomfort only for a moment before it went slack as he sat down behind his desk.
Yuuji is itching to ask him if the guy is feeling alright. And ask him if he met up with anyone on campus last night, and if he was spending some casual time with a guy, the mysterious guy who managed to capture Fushiguro’s attention. Just anything to help put back the pieces of the puzzle to sooth his mind.
It takes a lot out of him to hold himself back from humiliating himself and Fushiguro both, keeping his mouth shut with the utmost power of self-preservation. But Yuuji being himself, he sucks at acting fine—specially now—that Fushiguro is immediately sensing something is going on with him, towering over him with a twist of frown on his face when they’re alone in the classroom. “What’s up?”
Yuuji stutters his way naively through the answer. “Up—? Nothing—nothing’s up.” He ruffles his fingers through his hair with a fake smile.
Fushiguro tips his chin up and glares down at him with a hum as if he’s reading through his bullshit clearly, making Yuuji want to shrink back into his red hoodie. “You can’t bullshit me. You’ve been too weirdly quiet.”
“Me—? Nah-uh, I’m doing just—fine. But you—” Yuuji redirects the attention back to Fushiguro without meaning to, “—you okay? You seem a bit—quiet.”
Fushiguro’s frown furrows deeper. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”
It’s a miracle Yuuji manages to fumble his way through talking without tripping up. “It’s just that—you seem a bit tired? Yeah—that—that’s it. It’s the eye bags—really.”
Fushiguro doesn’t seem even a bit convinced by Yuuji’s acting, the unimpressed expression on his face only deepening with every one of Yuuji’s lies, and he isn’t sure if the curses that are flying through his head at himself right now aren’t being voiced out by his clumsiness and giving him away.
If only there was a savior to yank out Yuuji from sinking deep into the sand—but no, what he gets is a small mouth appearing on his cheek in a shape of a smug smirk, Sukuna regarding Fushiguro with one eye opened as he exposes Yuuji without a single care.
“I didn’t expect you to be quite expressive, Fushiguro Megumi.”
A few freezing seconds pass between the two teenagers when the curse speaks. Yuuji’s eyes then widen when the realization of what Sukuna meant creeps in, Fushiguro taking a moment to register his words. He scowls in confusion. “What?”
“Nothing! Don’t listen to him!” Yuuji slaps a palm against his cheek, and promptly yelps when Sukuna bites at him.
Fushiguro’s confusion only deepens, narrowed eyes darting from Sukuna’s leering eye to Yuuji’s panicked, mortified gaze. It doesn’t take the guy long to draw the conclusions, the realization edging in through his face, bringing a shade of red with it. Fushiguro’s eyes widen a bit comically in competition with Yuuji’s own, and he opens and closes his mouth a few times.
Sukuna only chuckles in triumph, before disappearing back into his domain quietly when Yuuji slaps at him again, leaving the two teenagers in uncomfortable silence.
Swallowing, Yuuji looks away and inhales deeply, puffing his cheeks and blowing air out. “So…”
Fushiguro doesn’t say anything, or react to Yuuji’s attempt at lessening the excruciating silence. He stands completely still next to Yuuji. He winces.
Yuuji considers yelling at Sukuna, challenging him to something in his domain, perhaps a fight, whatever that’ll earn him some sort of result, just something. The curse has usually never been too interested in interfering with anything he does on a daily, never popping up out of nowhere to interrupt his speaking with somebody—only appearing when he wants to bring down Yuuji’s spirit along with his devilish rotten words. But now he’s suddenly decided to embarrass the hell out of Fushiguro.
Maybe he’s too bored. Yuuji’s been wondering just how the curse had been keeping himself company in solitude with those skeletons in his domain—except the times when he’s bothering Yuuji of course.
He may have thrown himself deep into his thoughts when Fushiguro’s words pull him back into the torturous reality. Yuuji turns his head and blinks up at the black haired guy. “What?”
Fushiguro scoffs and rolls his eyes. His cheeks are still colored with red, but he’s gotten himself back under control. “You didn’t hear anything.”
Yuuji can’t help himself; he raises his index for a question, but Fushiguro bites back harsher. “You. Didn’t. Hear. Anything.”
Yuuji immediately shuts up and looks away.
Fushiguro huffs out and shakes his head. He walks away and sits behind his desk, hands stuffed in his pocket, his expression turning grim as he looks ahead of himself when they both notice Gojo-sensei stepping into the room.
_______
Yuuji sees too many things, and notices too much lately.
Too many things have been happening at the same time, and too many things have been disappearing at the same time, throwing the lot of them for a loop, leaving them confusticated and powerless.
He isn’t sure which it is that is forcing him to be watchful of his surroundings; the absence of the people they’ve lost so unfairly, or the recent events that have left him battered and bruised.
Yuuji tries to be mindful of how much he lets his mind get carried away with the thoughts of guilt that threaten to claw at his neck and choke him with the intensity, leaving him helpless on the ground. Even then when the guilt goes away, he is incapable of allowing his mind to rest.
His eyes always wander, considering the people around him, his mind alert and ready to jump at any moment his eyes are met with a curse.
He tries to be mindful of the people around him as well—or, there aren’t many people around him to keep a count on, not anymore. But Yuuji tries to be of use however possible to those alive around him, and he tries to help them in anyway possible.
But if he’s being true to himself and his conscience, he can’t imagine how he could be helpful right now, in this fucked up situation that they’re all mud deep stuck in. Yuuji knows the last thing that’ll be helpful to any of them is to have the power to erase their minds clean of the bad memories that are hunting them all.
But damn if he doesn’t think of it.
He isn’t sure how Fushiguro is dealing with all of this, if he is, that is. Yuuji has never been able to read Fushiguro that well, the guy being a master at holding himself—everything that hints at him being an emotional person. It’s never been a trait that irritated him, but it was sort of admirable. There were times when he managed to voice his question at the guy, how do you deal with all of this.
Fushiguro hadn’t given him much of an answer, a simple sigh and a ruffle of erratic black hair as he mumbled you’ll get used to it.
Yuuji isn’t sure if he’s capable of that, or if he wants to.
But the dark haired guy seems fine—as fine as one can be in this situation. Even worse, he’s so fine that he had to help drag Yuuji before he ate himself from the inside with the guilty thoughts, the why’s and the how’s.
Yuuji still wants to turn to him and ask the same question again, how are you able to deal with all of this. Fushiguro, are you actually alright?
The answer to that—it’s actually obvious. Of course he isn’t fine, when his sister is in the hands of their enemy forced to participate in a game that she doesn’t have the means to survive in. So, of course Fushiguro isn’t doing fine even if it doesn’t show on his face.
But Yuuji notices it through his body language, the things he does.
Sometimes Fushiguro seems to be waiting; for something to happen, for someone to appear, Yuuji isn’t sure. He seems on edge, there is a hand always in motion, whether grabbing at his thigh or curled into a fist at his side when he glances around, eyes looking up as if he expects to see someone pop up. He didn’t seem to be like this back in school, when his sister was in a coma, so Yuuji wonders.
He wonders if Fushiguro is thinking of something specific when he’s glancing up at the clear sky—when the sky isn’t covered with darkened clouds and the blue is giving a new look on life. The guy gets this look on his face, Yuuji can’t exactly articulate it into proper words. Is it sadness? Grief? Yearning? He doesn’t know.
Sometimes he’s doing something else when he isn’t quietly sitting in complete solitude in anxiousness for his sister. If there was something Yuuji never saw him without during the times of their breaks in between the classes and the missions, it was his phone. Well—it isn’t to say Fushiguro is addicted to his phone, he just—never seemed like he enjoyed the process of talking with no indication of meaning behind the conversation. Yuuji sometimes wondered just what it is that has Fushiguro’s focused attention.
He's sure it isn’t some game—at least not now. Fushiguro fiddles with his phone, sometimes it’s just for a few seconds, him grabbing his phone out of his pocket to turn it on for a few moments, glaring at the screen before stuffing it back in his pocket with a sigh. Other times, when he has the time to stop and step away in the corner, he takes a long while to thumb through whatever it is he’s looking at. Yuuji guesses it could be some type of video, when he sees Fushiguro holding up his phone close to his ear to listen to something.
Yuuji hopes it’s only a comfort to the guy and not anything else.
During the few months they’ve spent as classmates have felt like they’ve come around to understand each other pretty well, yet Yuuji feels like he still has a lot to learn about Fushiguro.
It took him only a short while of being forced to sleep in the same room for Yuuji to notice that it doesn’t seem like the guy is used to sleeping alone. When Fushiguro (all of them perhaps) allows himself to close his eyes for sleep, he usually wakes up not so long afterwards, blinking around at his surroundings before disappointment sits deep in those green eyes of his. As if his only purpose of falling asleep was to pass the time he had to wait for someone to arrive. Or maybe Yuuji’s entirely wrong about his assumptions and it’s only the insomnia and the nightmares kicking into gear.
Comfort isn’t what will help Fushiguro, Yuuji knows that, but it doesn’t keep him away from trying so, using comforting words to sooth the pain away from his friend’s gaze, from the burden that he must be feeling on his shoulders and perhaps even help him sleep a little better when he gets the chance to. We’ll get your sister back, definitely. And we’ll definitely get Gojo-sensei back.
Fushiguro doesn’t push away his attempt at comforting actually; he doesn’t use his words, doesn’t stop himself from frowning, but Fushiguro does nod along with Yuuji’s words. Of course. We’ll get them both back.
Yuuji notices too many things, but if there is one thing that he doesn’t see is when Fushiguro’s lips twitch in response to Gojo’s name, in response to the hopes that they’re a step closer to seeing the blindfolded man—the idiot that got himself trapped when he should’ve been just fine—the asshole who promised Megumi that it’s fine, I’m the strongest freed of that damned box.