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seven, eight, nine
Megumi didn’t often think with his heart, as a sorcerer, he was taught not to do so. To trust his instincts instead. To never act upon his feelings, keep them safe and sound underneath his sleeve at all times.
twenty one, twenty two, twenty three
However, doing so became close to second nature when it came to Yuji Itadori.
forty five, forty six, forty seven
Warm eyes and sunshine smiles were always more than enough to trigger a chain reaction of thoughts that he would never dare say out loud. Or at least, not anytime soon.
He has been a front row spectator of the cruelty that came with finding your other half. To fall in love. Truly, madly, deeply. Head over heels, always and forever. Soulmates kind of deal.
It terrified him, more than any enemy could ever. To love and be loved was the most twisted curse to ever exist.
He’s pretty sure he heard that somewhere before.
Vivid memories of a younger and freshly broken Gojo silently crying at night after tucking him and Tsumuki in when they were little -when he obviously thought they were already sound asleep- living rent free in his mind.
Megumi hasn’t ever told anyone about it. He doesn’t believe he can.
Not without outing himself at the same time.
He tries not to think too much about it. Especially when he’s around the other boy -which, mind you, was a pretty significant part of his day. As if afraid Yuji will somehow gain the mighty power of reading his mind.
So far the other boy has done nothing but constantly keep him on his toes. Surprising him at every given, and not given, chance he had.
It really wasn’t that much of an irrational fear, if you asked him.
But sometimes the universe just loved to test him. He’s used to it by now. This time in the form of an awkward knock on his door at 2:54 a.m.
Voice strained, eyes tired, hair a mess.
“Hey, Fushiguro, sorry to bother you this late.” Pause. Fidget. Deep deep breath. Like the ones you take when you’re about to submerge yourself into a pool. “Um, can I come in?”
Megumi is one weak man.
Love thrives in the soul of the vulnerable. It feeds and grows. It completely takes over.
One look was all it took for him to step aside and silently let his friend in. Both into his room and by extent, into his heart. Not that he was aware of. He didn’t need to.
That’s pretty much how they ended up laying side to side. Squished together in Megumi’s bed. Breaths even and elbows slightly touching. He can practically feel his own heart going wild inside his rib cage.
Megumi wonders if Itadori can hear it in the silence of the room. Wonders if his might be doing the same.
Mellowed wishful thinking. Happens when you overlap sleep deprivation with touch starvation, he guesses. His face suddenly hot with embarrassment. He reminds himself to keep it together. It’s an order.
So far, no further questions have been asked on any end.
One of his favorite traits of the other boy was his innate ability to make conversation out of nowhere. Never failed to keep him entertained. Megumi often faked being bothered by it whenever someone was around. In hopes they won’t be able to tell how far gone he really was.
This of course only fueling Itadori to try even harder to make him laugh. Kept his heart full and his cheeks warm.
But right now, not a single word was spoken. He almost misses the ruckus. Unbelievable.
Whatever was upsetting his friend, recoiling deeply inside his chest, was apparently enough to keep his mouth shut. His usually loose tongue is now tied in a tight knot. He’s pretending to be asleep, not to bother. The flutter of his lashes gives him away.
Not that Megumi was paying close attention. Except, whenever it came to Itadori, he always was.
He tries to come up with a way of asking what might be troubling him. Careful not to sound invasive or annoyed. Maybe even offering some kind of comfort. It’s not exactly his forte, but he could manage.
Maybe just for tonight.
“Do you want to talk about it?” It’s barely a murmur. Subtle but direct enough. He’s kind of proud about that one, if he’s being honest.
Megumi almost believed he wasn’t heard, only to watch the slight twitch of his friend’s lips before he had the chance to repeat himself. Itadori weakly blinking his eyes open, sighing deeply.
“Can we do that tomorrow?”
There was no room left for speculation to tell it wasn’t exactly a question. Right now the other boy sounds exhausted enough to just breathe.
Itadori runs a lazy hand through his already messy pink hair. Megumi’s fingers twitch against his comforter, wanting to feel the soft cotton candy strands himself. If the thought of it distracts him more than it should, no one has to know.
It would be no use to fight him for a different answer in this state. Not when he’s staring into the nothingness of the ceiling. Restless. Almost as if looking for an answer. Somewhere. Anywhere.
So he settles. For now. Tomorrow morning might be different.
“Sure.” There’s a hidden promise there somewhere. Fingers crossed it doesn’t go over his head.
Everything goes back to quiet.
The wind wooshing lightly against his window was slowly succeeding at lulling him to sleep. If only there wasn’t a body gently simmering in anxiety laying right next to him. It was getting harder to ignore with every passing second.
Like watching a rubber band about to snap. Squinting your face, closing your eyes shut. Waiting for the hit.
Megumi is having a painfully hard time comprehending how he has been training his entire life for what to do in any kind of possible situation but somehow the current scenario around him wasn’t one of those.
What’s the procedure? What’s the course of action?
Who did Megumi go to when he couldn’t sleep?
His go-to answer was Gojo. Always has been. Even after all these years. His safe space. His family away from family. But despite how much of a brilliant idea his friend might think it would be to involve his favorite teacher, he kind of wants to save this little moment for them and for them only.
Itadori came to his room out of everyone else’s. He tries not to let it go to his head. Who would have thought jealousy had such an awfully sweet yet addictive taste?
He’s diving blind now. Widely unexplored territory. Nevertheless, he decides to try.
“What are you used to do when you can’t sleep?”
Itadori immediately looks to the side, mildly surprised. As if he didn’t expect Megumi not to drop the subject. Honestly, justified reaction. He was the quiet one of the pair after all. The less words, the better.
But Itadori doesn't seem upset at his question, so he takes it as a win.
His friend giggles. Airy enough he would’ve probably missed it if he were laying a little further away. He didn’t intend to. He doesn’t want to. It brings back the glimmer he’s used to see in his eyes.
Light suits Itadori, it always did.
“Sorry, it's just -it’s silly but, when I was a kid,” Itadori idly drums his fingers over his stomach, the fabric of his sweatshirt absorbing the sound. Megumi restrains himself from trying to hold his hand. It’s harder than he thought it would be. Odd. “my grandpa used to tell me to count some sheep.”
Newfound fondness immediately tugs at the corners of Megumi’s mouth. He’s smiling at the ceiling like a fool. Lately, it took almost nothing to brim his stomach with butterflies.
Oh, Gojo was right. He’s so in trouble.
He couldn’t help but find endearing every little thing Itadori did. It was a curse. The biggest one he has faced yet. Unarmed and inexperienced. The one that filled his dreams with cotton candy hair and bubbly laughter.
It was no wonder sleep came easily to him lately. It felt like coming home.
Megumi is glad they’re in the dark right now. Just so his friend won’t be able to notice him unintentionally wearing his heart on his sleeve. Offering it for him to take and to keep.
“Have you tried now?” He tries to desperately keep Itadori’s attention on literally anything but him. “Counting sheep I mean.”
“Yeah, I did.”
It sounds rehearsed, awfully so. Emotionless. Robotic. Very much unlike everything Itadori represented to him. As if it was the only thing occupying his mind right now. Waiting for someone to ask him about it.
There’s something else there. Hidden. Held back by an obscenely heavy pause.
So Megumi waits.
“But every time I counted sheep, they turned into– something else.” A strong implication. ‘Something else’ definitely already had some specific and established shape inside Itadori’s mind.
Megumi believes only something he witnessed so personally and remembered so vividly could haunt him like this in his sleep.
If he were to vaguely guess, Itadori is probably seeing curses. More specifically, he’s probably seeing Junpei.
Still blaming himself for what happened to him.
The sweetest of dreamers were always tormented by the darkest shadows. His own sister was a fragile example of that after all. Being Sukuna’s vessel just ensured Itadori’s handcrafted playground of nightmares, he guesses. Especially at nighttime when the rest of the world is quiet.
He believes most burdens couldn’t compare.
It’s that moment when Megumi decides to fuse his emotional thinking skills with his rational ones to come up with something to do. His lazily wired up brain immediately kicking into overdrive.
Like it always did when it came to his friend. Friends, in plural, cause he has no favorites.
Of course. Anyway.
The troubled weight of the breathing of the body currently laying next to him is enough to ignite something inside Megumi. Some sort of temporary fix if you will. To help with the visual he was seeking.
Well, kind of.
“I have an idea.” Megumi whispers privately, almost as if afraid of accidentally bursting the bubble they somehow got themselves into. He wouldn’t dare to risk it. Not now, not ever. His own body already electrified with anticipation.
“Fushiguro, really, you don’t have to-”
Before giving Itadori the chance to finish up his sentence, he’s raising his slightly shaky hands in the air. Strategically placing one over the other.
“Rabbit escape.”
Suddenly his friend’s breath is knocked out right of his lungs in wide surprise. Some childlike astonishment. The room in no time swarmed with evermoving shadows that swiftly turn into a river of fluffy white bunnies.
The other boy giggles softly in disbelief, looking around them. Quickly sitting up straight and reaching both hands out to pet as much as he could. Megumi tries not to get lightheaded with the knowledge that he was the mere cause behind that adorable sound.
“Is this what you’re supposed to use your shikigami for?” Is borderline mocking, but he lets it slide.
Maybe Kugisaki was right. He did work under some sort of ‘Itadori privilege’. Not that he would ever say it to her face, of course. Megumi is not ready for that kind of backlash yet.
Doesn’t think any human would ever be.
“I won’t tell if you don’t.” He’s looking directly at Itadori now. Smiling before he can help it. Motioning his head toward the summoned bunnies that started to line up before them.
Waiting for a signal. For his signal.
“Go ahead now, count your sheep.”
“You’re unbelievable. Thank you, Fushiguro.” There’s a spreading blush tinting his freckled cheeks now and Megumi feels his heart growing about three sizes larger. All the way up to his throat. It was almost starting to get harder to breathe.
He doesn’t really care.
To vanish his nightmares would become the last thing he would ever achieve before walking right into the afterlife. So be it.
He feels his friend’s hand shyly brush against his. His whole body is silently screaming. Maybe he fell asleep right after letting Itadori in and he’s actually dreaming. He really hopes it’s not the case. Their fingers slowly intertwine together and it takes everything in his power not to lose his damn mind.
Megumi secretly hopes the morning never comes.
Itadori turns back to the shikigami, grinning like a toddler who’s seeing snow fall for the very first time. And for the sake of Megumi’s poor little heart, he finally starts counting.