Work Text:
The first time Megumi heard of him, it happened by pure chance.
He was sitting on bed, a book in his hand, his laptop resting on his legs. He often listened to relaxing instrumental music while reading, especially when reading the material for his university assignments—just for concentration. Sometimes his shuffle had a life of its own, and among the familiar playlists, it suggested new, unfamiliar songs to him.
Hello, everyone. GS aka The Strongest here. Thank you for joining again! Today, as you all know, is Callout Thursday!
Megumi blinked and raised his eyes from his book just to see a young man, only a few years older than him at most, with striking white hair, crystal-blue eyes, and a huge, cocky smile.
Why was a random guy suddenly talking, instead of the usual music videos?
Each Thursday you guys pick random instruments for me to play just to see how far I can go. By doing so, each Thursday I remind you that there’s literally nothing I can’t play, even if it’s the first time. That’s right! I’m that good.
Megumi’s first instinct was to press skip, honestly; this guy was way too condescending and it wasn’t even Thursday. But although he found himself raising an eyebrow, he couldn’t help but continue watching, just out of curiosity.
Last week we did the bongos, flute, and a fourteen-stringed bass guitar. Gotta say, that bass was seriously one of my favorites so far. The votes this time around were in favor of the violin—kinda standard, if you ask me, but sure—after it is the French horn and the piano. The classics! Why not. Before we begin, don’t forget to like, subscribe, and turn on your notifications, if you wanna get updated with more of my awesome videos.
Why? Why was he watching this? He shouldn’t even be interested, but something about this guy was… he didn’t know how to describe it.
He should just keep going to see if he was any good. If he wasn’t, well—Megumi could just hit the back button and move on with his life. He most probably will.
He didn’t look too bad, though, if Megumi was honest with himself.
~♬~
“Megumi! Dinner!”
It was only then, when he heard Tsumiki’s voice from downstairs, that Megumi finally paused one of The Strongest’s videos. Looking at his phone, he gawked—
He’s been watching this dude for more than two hours?!
“Megumi?”
“Coming.”
~♬~
“Tsumiki.”
“Mm?”
“Have you heard of a guy on Youtube called The Strongest?”
“Hmm. The name sounds familiar. Why?”
Licking his lips, Megumi shook his head. “Nothing.”
“Aww, come one, Megumi-chan! If he interests you then he’s definitely worth hearing about.” She pointed at him with her chopsticks. “What does he do?”
Megumi took another bite before talking. “He takes challenges. He plays any instrument that’s requested by the comments. And he really does play all of them. Not just the piano or guitar—he plays the sitar, guqin, harp, I think there was even that steel plate-like drum that you tap on that makes really soothing sounds—”
“Oh my—”
“Caisa! That’s what it was called. And sometimes he even uses blindfolds when he... Why are you smiling like that?”
“I’ve never seen you this excited about anything before,” Tsumiki chuckled sweetly.
Megumi could feel his cheeks burning. “I’m not excited.”
“Wait, wait!” Tsumiki straightened up, waving her spoon. “I think I know him! Heard of him, I mean. He uses GS as his initials, right? In English? And he sometimes uses blindfolds when he plays?”
“Yes.”
“That’s Gojo Satoru!” She got up to bring her phone, which was connected to a charger in another room; when she was back, she showed the screen to her brother. Gojo Satoru’s picture, which seemed to be from quite a while back, was on display. “He used to be an idol a few years ago.”
“Really? I've never heard of him.”
“That’s because you never listen or hear about idols, Megumi-chan.”
“... That’s true.” He swiped his thumb on the screen, blinking at the very little information there was about Gojo online. “Wait, you said he used to be an idol? What happened?”
“Mm. From what I remember, he was a part of a duo with his best friend, at first. But then—let me see if I can find the article.”
Megumi gave his sister her phone back, only for her to show it to him again after she muttered, “found it!”
The Strongest Duo Scandal: Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru Dating!
“Someone found out that they were dating each other and leaked it out. It was a double hit for them because they weren’t supposed to date anybody as idols, and they were both men. A while after that, they broke the duo up. Gojo-san continued alone on the Youtube channel but Geto-san disappeared.”
“Disappeared?” Megumi frowned.
“No one has heard of him since then. The fans have some theories but no one really knows what happened. Gojo-san continued with his channel for a while, but… Yeah. You see?”
Megumi leaned in when Tsumiki showed him her phone again; the latest video was posted three years ago. “Oh. I didn’t notice the dates.”
“Mm. This is why I was surprised… I’m sorry, Megumi-chan.”
“Sorry for what?”
Tsumiki smiled more gently this time. “You finally found someone that you liked, but you can’t really contact him now.”
“Tsumiki, it’s not like that!”
“Sorry, sorry. I’m still happy for you, though. You can listen to his music any time, at least.”
“... Yeah.”
A sigh was heard from them both.
“Do you want cake, Megumi-chan?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
~♬~
Megumi found himself watching Gojo’s videos more and more often in the next few weeks; some he watched in loops, others he discovered by accident. Some featured the most bizarre instruments Megumi has ever seen in his life, others featured the more classical or conventional ones.
Most of the videos that were earlier than five years ago were labeled as private. That gray rectangle was pinching Megumi’s heart just like the cruel, white writing on it did.
Scrolling up to the top of the page, Megumi then paused.
How did he miss the most recent video? It was there, but not as flashy as any of the other videos, therefore not as noticeable. There was no mistake: that was the most recent one, and it was from around two years ago.
Taking a deep breath, Megumi pressed play.
Gojo didn’t say a word. He was sitting on a bed, an acoustic guitar leaning on his lap. The lighting of the room wasn’t the best, and his face was mostly hidden by a shadow.
Round sunglasses were on the floor by his feet, broken.
He began to play after a few seconds of silence.
“Yesterday
All my troubles seemed so far away
Now it looks as though they’re here to stay
Oh, I believe in yesterday
Suddenly…”
Megumi’s heart has never ached the way it did at that moment. Gojo’s voice, so delicate and quiet, accompanied the guitar perfectly. His English was perfect. Megumi felt as though he invaded an intimate scene yet at the same time, he couldn’t look away. The steadiness of that voice, its purity, its emotion; the beauty of the melody that surrounded it: he loved them all. He could feel sheer pain coming from them.
Sniffling, Megumi wiped some tears that unconsciously fell on his cheeks.
He wanted to understand. He wanted to understand Gojo Satoru.
After this video, there was nothing else. Something must have happened.
It was Gojo’s most viewed one—more than six million likes—and the one most commented on.
Wow! This is amazing! As always!
Your most beautiful cover, Gojo-san!
Why can’t we see anything? Show us your pretty face~
Where did you go, Gojo-senpai?
Come back. We want more random instruments please.
Where is Geto Suguru? You did something to him, didn’t you?
Megumi blinked as the comments continued in that direction, and got worse and worse as he scrolled more. They infuriated him: how dare they write things like that to anybody, more so to someone who looks so heartbroken?
The comment section, to Megumi’s surprise, was still open.
He thought about it as he stared at his keyboard.
In the end, he pressed escape.
~♬~
“Fushiguro-kun? Fushiguro-kun.”
The voice seemed to be far away, as if calling to him from a dream.
“Fushiguro-kun. Are you okay?”
Finally blinking, Megumi took a sharp breath in and turned his head. “Ah, Okkotsu-senpai. Sorry. I didn’t hear you.”
“That’s okay,” Yuta Okkotsu smiled at him. “You just seemed more distracted than usual. Is everything alright?”
“Ah, yeah. Yeah. Thank you.”
“May I sit?”
“Of course.” Megumi moved his chair a bit to the left, giving his one-year senior some room beside him. He watched his friend put on the table a tray with food from the university’s cafeteria, along with a small bag of chips. “Don’t you usually have lunch with Inumaki-senpai, though?”
“Inumaki-kun is sick today, so I’m going to visit him later; I bought his favorite snack. How about you? Don’t you usually sit with Nobara-san and Itadori-kun?”
“Nobara’s skipping; Itadori has class.”
“I see,” Okkotsu smiled. They sat in silence for a bit. “So, what’s been on your mind?”
Megumi blinked with surprise, but then again, he really shouldn’t. Okkotsu-senpai was always perceptive.
“It’s, um. It’s a bit…”
“I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but you can always trust me. You know that.”
Yes. Megumi did know that; when it came to secrets or advice, Okkotsu-senpai was the only friend he could trust. “There’s a Youtuber I’ve been watching lately. He was… good at what he was doing. I mean, very good. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Was?”
“He stopped.”
“Oh. So you’ve been thinking about him?”
“Yes.”
“May I ask who he is? I don’t know many Youtubers but maybe I can help.”
Megumi looked at his hands, and then at Okkotsu again. “Gojo Satoru.” When his senpai blinked at him, Megumi’s eyebrow was raised high on his forehead. “What?”
“Well, it’s just a funny accident. He’s a relative of mine.”
Megumi’s eyes widened. “What?!”
“Yeah. A distant relative. I’ve met him a few times when I was younger. We still talk but mainly through text once in a while.”
“Does it mean…” Megumi began, but stopped himself, blushing.
“Mean what?”
“Do you know… what he’s been up to? Or why did he stop with his Youtube channel?”
Okkotsu smiled apologetically. “I know why he stopped but I’m sorry, Fushiguro-kun; I don’t think it’s my place to tell you.”
“Oh,” Megumi gulped, his heart sinking. “Yes. Of course. I understand.”
“But I trust you, so I will tell you this: He still lives here in Tokyo.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Technically he has a teaching position in the Music Academy, but he mostly gives private lessons at his home.”
Megumi didn’t know what to say. So many thoughts and ideas ran within his mind, but he didn’t know if he should voice them, or if knowing now that Gojo is alive and well was enough.
“I can talk to him for you, if you want.”
“Huh?”
“Yeah. I can tell him I have a friend who’s looking for a private teacher.”
“Oh—no, no. It’s alright. I’m just happy to hear he’s doing okay.”
“Mm. Fushiguro-kun is very kind.”
“Not really.”
Okkotsu kept on smiling.
Megumi looked away. “... But please tell Inumaki-senpai I said feel better soon.”
“I will.”
~♬~
Is this Fushiguro-kun’s number?
Megumi looked at the message and made a face. An unknown number?
Who’s this?
Gojo Satoru. Yuta gave me your phone number. He said you were interested in private guitar lessons.
Megumi froze. Okkotsu-senpai… isn’t trustworthy at all!
I’m still thinking about it.
No problem. If you decide to come, I’m available this Thursday at 5pm.
~♬~
A wooden door slid sideways only slightly. The person behind it didn't reveal themselves yet.
“You must be Fushiguro-kun,” a deep, masculine voice asked him.
“Yes.”
“Come in.”
“Thank you.”
The door slid open and Megumi stepped in, taking off his shoes in the corner. He walked into a wide hallway—that led into an even wider living-room. He gawked at the size of the place: it was a traditional Japanese house, but the exquisite design was unmistakable. He should know, he grew up in one.
The man who stood beside him was tall—much taller than himself—his blue robes hiding his slim body. His hair was striking white, leaning upwards and back, almost wild but neat in its own way.
It was only then when he realized the injustice that his small computer screen made Gojo Satoru's beauty.
Black folds covered his eyes, though. Could he even see anything with that?
“This way.”
Megumi followed him, his throat squeezed shut. The tips of his fingers tinged, his body almost weak. He couldn't believe he was actually there, walking behind Gojo fucking Satoru.
“You know, Fushiguro-kun,” Gojo's smile was somewhere between cocky and soft, “there are two kinds of people who come to take private lessons from me. The first are talented kids who have no idea who I am. The second are ex-fans or current fans of my idol life and my late Youtube channel. I guess you’re the second type.”
Megumi gulped, saying nothing.
“That’s okay, though. I’m gonna let it slide. Yuta-kun brought you here, after all.”
“Gojo-sensei—”
“Yes?”
Biting his lower lip for a moment, Megumi's fists tightened at the edge of his jacket. He bowed deeply. “I am looking forward to learning from you.”
“There's no need for such formalities here, Fushiguro-kun. You can sit now.”
When Megumi looked at Gojo again, he noticed how the smile that decorated his face seemed… not quite sad but rather lifeless. Even without being able to see his eyes, Megumi knew that that smile didn't reach them. It pinched his heart.
He sat on in front of Gojo, on the only chair in the room. Gojo handed him a guitar and sat on a pillow before him. Even then, they were almost at the same height.
“I take it that you haven't tried a musical instrument before.”
“No.”
“Very well. Not to worry; the guitar is pretty easy at the start. ”
“And after the start?”
“Well. Once you know the basics, anything is possible. Even the complicated things.”
“Even a fourteen stringed guitar?”
Gojo halted, and then smiled. “Even a fourteen stringed guitar, yes.”
Megumi nodded. His heart began to race—he was more nervous than he thought he would be.
“Let us begin, then.”
~♬~
This is how Megumi spent his Thursday evenings: sitting in front of the most beautiful man in history, practicing chords over and over again. Tsumiki helped him buy his own guitar, so he could practice at home as well. Every time Gojo scolded him for a wrong tune, he found himself practicing even harder.
It was when he came to the lessons with plasters on the tips of his fingers that Gojo praised him the most.
“Music is like a language. You always have to do it and redo it, or else you forget. Don't let yourself fall behind, Fushiguro-kun. Your fingers are long and your musical hearing gets better. You have potential.”
Megumi nodded, his chest filling with warmth he had never felt before.
He came to love these lessons. He was never particularly into music before he heard of Gojo. Now, he found that playing a musical instrument brings some sort of peace in him that he had never found before.
But it wasn't only the guitar that made him look forward to each lesson.
Maybe Okkotsu-senpai was trustworthy, after all.
~♬~
“Your fingers are slightly off. Hold them tighter and more accurately.”
“Yes.”
Gojo listened some more.
“Again, from the start, Megumi.”
Megumi halted and threw a wide gaze at Gojo.
Gojo was with his back to him, but soon turned. It seemed that even with his blindfolds, his gaze somehow pierced through the black fabric and right into Megumi's soul.
“Megumi?”
“Ah—yes.”
~♬~
Megumi often found himself waiting for Gojo to open his door approximately eight minutes each time when the lesson was supposed to start. He didn't mind; the garden that surrounded Gojo's traditional house was impressive, filled with soft grass and cherry-blossom trees that at this time of the year were filled with pink and white flowers. The wind was cool and comforting.
Gojo usually made him coffee and gave him a piece of cake as an apology. At first Megumi would decline, yet the more he arrived, the more comfortable he felt.
Gojo wasn't only his idol anymore, not only that beautiful man on the computer screen that was so far from his reach. He was very much there, talked to him, played with him, smiled at him. He was silly and sweet and stern when he needed to be, but patient. He had deep knowledge in many genres and instruments, and sometimes accompanied Megumi's playing with a different tool.
He called him Megumi. And hearing his first name being uttered by that raw, deep voice always brought a chill down his spine and blush to his cheeks.
He wanted these lessons to continue forever.
~♬~
“Hello, Megumi.”
Megumi's chest filled with butterflies as he pressed the phone to his ear. “Gojo-sensei?”
“The one and only. Do you have a moment?”
“Yes, of course.”
There was a slight pause.
“Listen. You’re a good student. And I had fun teaching you. In fact, I taught you so well, you don't need my guidance anymore.”
Megumi froze. His heart sank.
“W-what? But it's only been one year.”
“I give you my blessing to spread your wings on your own now.”
“Wait, Gojo-sensei—”
“You should look for a band. Or go to the Academy. Maybe I can even use my connections to find you a recording company—”
“Why are you saying all this?!”
Why? Why was he pushing him away?
There was another momentary pause on the other side of the line. “I believe in you, Megumi. Good luck with your musical career.”
The cut of the line felt like a knife to his heart.
No. He couldn't accept it just like that. He deserved to know what happened.
Taking nothing but his phone and keys, Megumi stormed out of his room. Tsumiki tried to ask him what was wrong, but he had no time for that. He told her he'd come back later, and shut the door of their house behind him.
It wasn't fair. Gojo didn't get to decide something like this all of the sudden.
His mind spiraled with thoughts and questions as he took the bus.
Did he really think that he was ready only after one year of private lessons? Why did he just call him without saying anything beforehand? What had happened that he suddenly decided on this?
The way over there felt longer than usual.
The bus stopped five minutes away from Gojo's house. Usually, Megumi took his time walking over; now, he ran as if his life was dependending on it.
He stopped just before the gate, heaving. Sweat ran down his forehead as he leaned his hands on his knees to catch his breath.
When he finally straightened up, he saw Gojo Satoru sitting in his garden, beneath a naked cherry-blossom tree, facing the sky above despite having his blindfolds. His blue robes and sitting position were making him even more graceful, as if he was the subject of a painting.
Megumi entered the garden, closed the gate and stepped before him.
Gojo didn't move from his position.
“Sensei.” His voice was nothing but a whisper.
“Megumi.”
“You said when we first met that you don't mind why I came. That you don't mind that I know about your past as an idol.”
“Yes,” Gojo replied calmly. “It's still true.”
“I never talked to you about it, either. Because I respect your privacy and it's not my business.” When Gojo didn't reply, he allowed himself to continue. “So I don't understand why you suddenly decided that we need to stop the lessons. You can't teach me anything? That's crap. People go to the same private teacher for years.”
When Gojo still didn't say anything, Megumi felt his fists clutching by his sides.
Gojo was a talker. He always talked. Why was he silent now?
Megumi sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose for a moment. “I just want to know why. I deserve to know at least that,” he tried to argue again. He waited, but Gojo's silence began to feel like a stab to his confidence.
Maybe he just had enough of him. Or maybe Megumi wasn't good enough. The lack of words says more than he ever could: Gojo simply hated him. Maybe he pretended this entire time, and now, he just offered him anything that he could to push him off his shoulders. Maybe—
“I have a policy,” Gojo suddenly spoke, his voice low and beautiful, “not to get too close to other people. Love is a terrible curse, Megumi. The worst of them all. I know from experience.”
Now, it was Megumi's turn to remain silent. He knew it was probably because of what happened all those years ago. It probably left a deep scar in him.
But then, Gojo smiled. Something about it was softer than any smile Megumi has ever seen on him before.
Wide eyed, Megumi watched as he slid off his black blindfolds. It made his white hair, which until then was resting backwards, fall slightly on Gojo's forehead.
His eyes were a certain type of blue that reminded Megumi of crystals, of light breaking on clear ocean waves. His computer screen at home must have cheated; these eyes were beautiful even then, but it was nothing in comparison to witnessing them in person.
He felt as if, with a mere glance, Gojo Satoru could take his heart and twist it into itself.
“Besides, teachers can't date their students.”
Ah?
“W… What?”
“And now you're not my student.”
Megumi found himself stepping closer. His face burnt hot.
“I…”
“Or did I read your signals wrong? But that doesn't make sense. I'm usually right 99.5 percent of the time.”
Megumi crossed his arms. “But why did you have to tell me like that?! You could've just asked!”
“Just for that 0.05 percent.”
Gojo's smile reached his eyes this time. It was cocky and provoking and very, very hot; Megumi just couldn't keep on being angry.
“G-Gojo-sensei…!”
“I'm not your teacher anymore. Come here.”
It was within mere seconds that Megumi squatted, watching as Gojo straightened up and leaned closer to him. Their faces were so close, he could feel Gojo's breath against his skin. He was certain that his cheeks were bright red.
His heartbeat accelerated when Gojo cupped his cheeks in both hands, his long, cool fingers sliding ever so gently.
“I'm going to kiss you now, Megumi,” he whispered.
Megumi nodded, eyes glued to the sight of Gojo shutting his, of his mouth slightly opening. As soon as their mouths made contact, his own eyelids shut as well.
Gojo’s lips were so soft, as if made of rice cakes. They were warm, they were wet; his tongue was still sweet from the cake he must have eaten not long ago. Megumi’s sensations clouded, accelerating his heartbeat again, making his entire body warm up.
When the kiss was over, his lips felt cold. He longed for more, but as his eyes opened to that beautiful sight of Gojo Saturu, Megumi just couldn't say anything at all.
He only blinked when he felt Gojo putting something behind his ear.
“The cherry-blossom suits you, Megumi,” Gojo grinned. Megumi blushed terribly.
“Gojo-sensei, please don't—”
“No.”
“No?”
“Don't call me sensei anymore.”
“Oh. Yes. Um. Then…”
“How about my first name?”
Megumi's blush turned even redder.
Gojo leaned his forehead on his. “Please. Call me by my first name.”
“S… Satoru…”
“Good,” Gojo whispered, passing another kiss to Megumi's lips. “Let's go back inside, Megumi. I'll tell you everything that happened.”
“Really? You don't have to if—”
“I know. I want to.”
Gojo rose on his feet and reached out his hand. Megumi caught it, standing up as well, and smiled at the taller man.
Each step on the grass felt like walking on a cloud. When they walked into the house, hand in hand, Megumi's nose filled with a scent that could only be described as Satoru.
His Satoru.