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The mall is a disaster. Crowds, noise, lights, Yuji pulling at the grip Megumi has on his wrist in attempts to go touch anything that sparkles, which is everything. Yuta’s broad shoulders and floppy haired head bobbing above the crowds is Megumi’s lighthouse in the sea of chaos. The other boy charges ahead, parting the crowds with quiet apologies that Megumi simply does not have the patience for.
“Yuji!” Megumi snaps, yanking Yuji away from a wall of gachapon machines. “You wanted to come, so keep up.”
“Sorry!” Yuji paces back to Megumi’s side, “but you’ve barely been looking in any stores.”
“That’s because,” Megumi grits, he side steps a group of girls who giggle in the direction of Yuta who passed them like an awkward wind. “I know what we’re getting Satoru.”
Yuji grins at the girls as they hurry past, they smell like the perfumes they’re sampling, and one sprays a fan of sharp sweetness at Yuji. Megumi scowls and slips his hand down into Yuji’s, squeezing their palms pointedly together. There’s a reprieve after that, Yuta has paused to wait for them in a blessedly empty alcove. He’s looking at the cheery reindeer that’s galloping across the wall trailing Christmas light reigns.
“You good?” Yuta asks when Megumi draws up short, dropping Yuji’s sweaty hand. He wipes his palm on his pants and glares.
“Why did we do this today?”
Yuji turns large brown puppy eyes on Megumi. He smells like cupcakes and the spicy body wash that lingers well on his skin. “I wasn’t flirting with them.”
Yuta’s brows shoot up his forehead and he bends down, tall fucker, –why is every one in Megumi’s life huge– to look in Megumi’s eyes. He turns away with a huff, crossing his arms.
“I know you weren’t, but you would have gotten distracted if I didn’t pull you away. Stop looking at me like that. You’re fine.”
Yuji brightens, tension falls out of Yuta’s shoulders like a threat to Megumi’s relationship was a burden to him.
“Okay so.” Yuta squints over Megumi’s shoulder, straightened back to his slumped height. Megumi half expects there to be a curse somewhere in the mass of people behind them, but it’s just a directory. “Do we need to get on the second floor?”
“Where are we going exactly?” Yuji asks.
“There’s a fine fabrics store that makes custom pieces,” Megumi says. He pulls his phone out of his pocket pulling up the receipt from earlier in the week. “I put in an order for a new blindfold a few weeks ago. We could have gotten it earlier.”
Yuta shrugs, “I was busy, sorry.”
Megumi frowns softly. “No. It’s not on you. Just, Christmas Eve in a mall is a special kind of hell.”
Yuji rocks back on his heels, sighing up at the huge golden ornaments suspended from the ceiling. He looks a little pathetic, soft and pink swallowed by a sweater that Megumi thinks belonged to Todo.
“What’s wrong?” Megumi reaches up to touch the faint V under Yuji’s eye. “You got sad.”
“Satoru would have loved to come and shop with us. It’s sad he can’t anymore.”
Megumi shakes his head, “He would, but we’re trying to do this with some secrecy, so I’m not too upset about it this time.”
“Are you normally upset about it?” Yuta asks, he presses himself more closely to the wall as a sudden surge of people swarms their sanctuary. They step into the flow before Megumi can answer and follow it down the main hallway back towards the escalators.
December twenty fourth is a day of mourning. It’s easy to forget, right now, riding up an escalator to the jaunty tune of a poppy Christmas song, Yuji humming off key in Megumi’s ear and Yuta enduring an older lady reaching to arrange his hair, falling over his face. It’s easy to forget, but at the same time, Megumi can see the physical manifestation of what they survived on Yuji’s face, and Yuta’s shifting eyes; fists that clench around the handle of an invisible sword. Megumi is reminded of it by the fact that Satoru isn’t here with them right now. He should be grateful. Satoru and Yuji in a mall together is worse than Yuji alone. But Satoru would flounce around with food and drinks, try on clothes, always find something to get Megumi even if it’s a useless thing that Satoru knows he doesn’t need.
Megumi is upset about this new absence often. He steps off the escalator; this time Yuji has Megumi’s hand leading him through the hall towards the medium sized shop, the door framed by black marble and the shine of a chandelier falling against the regular tile of the mall floor. Sheesh. Overkill. So Satoru.
“This place is fancy,” Yuji mumbles as they follow Yuta inside.
The walls are lined with bolts of fabric, luxurious in the show lights. Yuta pauses in front of a display of dark satin ribbons. He touches them with gentle fingers, smoothing a knuckle along a dark blue. Probably thinking about wraps for the blades he’s forging back on campus.
Megumi leaves Yuji with a stern look to not break anything, and approaches the counter where a worker has walked out from the back. She watches Yuta with a cool gaze and Yuji with something akin to fear. Megumi wants to assure her that just because he looks like a puppy doesn’t mean he has the decorum of one. Most of the time. Instead he pulls out his phone and places it on the counter.
“I had an order, number–”
The woman holds up a hand and peers at the phone before nodding and slipping away into the back. Megumi crosses his arms and regrets not wearing some of the designer clothing he has, just so this lady would know that actually he does run in this society. His caretaker is Gojo fucking Satoru, thank you very much. But no, he’s in a dog chewed hoodie and jeans that probably fit better a year ago. Not like it matters. Not really.
“Oh. Uh oh.”
Megumi whirls around to look at Yuji. He’s battling to hold up a row of bolts that have all fallen to the left as a result of Yuji pulling out a bolt of a deep maroon fabric. Megumi hurries over bumping shoulders with Yuta who had lunged over to help at the same time as Megumi. They wrestle the fabric back into place, smooth away the imprints of shoulders and hands, and Yuji’s face, all with hushed whispers and only a few smacks to the back of Yuji’s head. They scramble to look normal when the woman returns with an open box. Her eyes immediately turn to the shelf of fabric, her mouth twitches but she turns to Megumi and shows him the product.
It’s a blindfold. A purple so deep it might as well be black. In the light though it’s luxuriously purple and blue and red. Megumi and Yuta had paid a pretty price for it, taking a large chunk out of their compensation packets. It’s worth it though, the color, the extra length to cover further up Satoru’s forehead and further down his cheeks. The article is soft in Megumi’s hand when he picks it up carefully. Yuta makes an appreciative hum; he’s appeared at Megumi’s shoulder.
“It’s perfect,” Yuta says. “Megumi?”
“Yeah,” Megumi says quietly, “yeah it’s perfect.”
The woman places it back into the box, wraps it in expensive sparkling paper tied with a sparklier bow, and asks for a name. Megumi licks his lips.
“Uh, Satoru. S-a-t-o-r-u.”
“Anything else?” The woman asks, the first words she’s actually spoken to Megumi since he came in.
Megumi shakes his head and takes the package carefully when she slides it across the counter.
“I wonder if she was curious about what it's for,” Yuji wonders aloud as they linger outside a plush shop that Yuta ducked into upon seeing a stuffed elephant in the window.
Megumi shrugs, “not her business to care.”
“No.” Yuji rocks back and forth on his heels, “I guess not. Satoru will like it though.”
“I think he’d like anything, really,” Megumi says.
“It sucks that sweets are out of the question now,”
“Yeah,” Megmi mutters. Sucks a whole lot.
Megumi goes home alone. He leaves Yuta and Yuji at the split in the road that leads towards the neighborhood where the Fushiguro Gojo apartment is. They promise to be back the next day with food and friends before walking away together with their bags jostling at their sides.
It’s snowing as Megumi makes his way onto the street. Lights are flickering on along the road, making the snowflakes look a little fake as they glitter. They aren’t tainted with blood or soot this year. The snow is white, cool, quiet, muffling Megumi’s footsteps, closing the space around him until it is the size of each circle of light he shuffles through. He could stay out here forever in this cool quiet, but he can see the rise of his home, the charms hung on the balconies, and cursed objects placed along the fence and gate. His skin prickles with the feeling of Satoru’s cursed energy, leaching from the walls, a coldness that makes the night air almost warm.
Megumi pauses as he’s unlatching the gate. Satoru’s white glare is radiating from the only balcony on the front of the house. The one outside of what was once Tsumiki’s room. He looks up at Satoru, glowing, a dwarf star in his radiance, sitting with his hands folded in his lap. Satoru looks down on Megumi at the same time. His eyes arch into a smile. All of them. And he gets to his feet like light and drifts back inside. Shaking his head, Megumi latches the gate and hurries towards the house.
“What were you doing outside?” Megumi asks as he toes off his shoes. He doesn’t bother hiding the package. He knows Satoru already saw it from the balcony, but he does keep it close to his body in hopes that his cursed energy will interfere enough that the contents of the package will remain a little secret.
Satoru, hovering in the hall in front of Megumi, blinks at him. It’s like a physical thing, his blinks. The way they rearrange something in the air, something in Megumi for a few moments before he feels normal.
“Snow,” Satoru says. “It’s snowing.”
“Yeah,” Megumi says. He crosses the hall to survey his caretaker's state. The eyes are all a little irritated. Red bleeding through to kiss blue. His original pair focus on Megumi while the others whirl their attention everywhere.
There’s salt crusted along white lashes.
“You’ve been crying,” Megumi says. He reaches up to his own face and traces a finger down from the bottom of his lashes to the very edge of his jaw.
Satoru laughs, copies Megumi, long fingers jabbing the lower eye on his left cheek until he winces at the sensation. “December twenty-fourth, Geto Suguru was killed by Gojo Satoru. December twenty-fourth, Gojo Satoru was killed by Sukuna.”
Megumi flinches. The ancient evil that had been in his body is long gone, but sometimes he can feel the shadows of Sukuna in his limbs in his stomach, along his spine. He can taste a tongue that was foreign and almost grimy, he can feel the blood. The life he stole with power that was not his.
“Not your fault.” Satoru is gripping Megumi’s face, bringing him forward to press their foreheads together. Satoru’s touch burns, a low simmering heat that rises until Megumi has to extract himself and ward off limbs that want to hug.
It was so much worse in the beginning, when Satoru was little more than a curse of light and power and eyes. He clung to Megumi like a second shadow, rested on his shoulders like a cat. With a mostly restored body, a somewhat, occasionally, human body, it’s less, but still Satoru will hug and hold and cling until Megumi feels dizzy with power.
“I know.”
Satoru’s eyes frown. They are more expressive now than his mouth. “You say that, but you lie. To me and to yourself.”
Megumi opens his mouth to defend himself, but Satoru is already reaching up and flicking him hard in the middle of the forehead .
“It’s not your fault, death is sometimes a mercy. I don’t cry for myself.” Satoru grins then, his teeth are still a little uncanny. A little too bright or dark, depending on the lighting in the room. “I lived.”
He didn’t. He still isn’t, but Megumi shuts that thought away.
Brushing past Satoru he surveys the kitchen and living room. It looks like Christmas vomited everywhere . Not a surface is without a candle and fake trees, snowmen, santa, glitter. So. Much. Fucking. Glitter. Megumi wrinkles his nose in disgust at the way it looks like Satoru upended bottles of the stuff onto tables, chairs, the fucking sink, and ah. Yes. The fridge, because god forbid Satoru has the absentmindedness to forget the fridge.
“Why?”
Satoru giggles, “I like sparkly. It’s ffff estive.”
“It’s disgusting.” Megumi drops the present onto the table in the living area where the rest of his holiday shopping resides. He realizes then that he can smell incense wafting from deeper in the house. “Did you light incense for Tsumiki and Nanami?”
The eyes on Satoru’s cheeks dispel twin tears while the ones on his forehead look heavenwards. His original eyes land on Megumi and he smiles.
“December twenty-fourth, Gojo Satoru kills Geto Suguru.”
Megumi nods. “I see. I’ll light for them after dinner.”
Satoru doesn’t need food anymore. He tried once he was back in his body, but his stomach is gone, and the taste of food seemed to distress him, so now he sits with Megumi and watches him eat. Paying unnerving attention to every bite Megumi takes. Megumi thinks maybe he’s trying to taste it with his eyes. If it works for him then whatever.
“Are the others coming for Christmas?”
“You’re doing good talking today,” Megumi blurts.
Satoru’s face lights up, he sticks his tongue between his teeth. “I am the best .”
“Sure. And yeah the others are coming.”
“Yuji. Maki. Nobara. Toge. Yuuutaaa. Panda. Megumi. Yuji. Maki. Nobara. Toge. Yuta. Panda. Megumi. YujiMakiNobaraTogeYutaPanda. Meg-u-mi.”
“Uh huh,” Megumi says offhandedly. Yuji, as if summoned, texts him a panicked picture of a wad of wrapping paper in the middle of his bed. Megumi sends him back a, the hell do you want me to do? i can’t fix your thumb hands, and rolls his eyes at the large eyed emoji he gets in response.
“Kento.”
Megumi looks up at Satoru. “What about him?”
“Yuji, Maki, Nobara, Toge, Yuta, Panda, Megumi.” Satoru holds up a finger for every name. Seven fingers in total, and then he raises an eighth. “Kento.”
“Satoru, Nanami, Kento, he’s gone.”
A physical feeling as Satoru blinks. He drops his hands, reaches up and rubs between the eyes on his forehead. “Right. Fuck .”
Megumi chews slowly. Memory lapses are not…rare, per say, but they don’t happen after a few minutes of talking about the subject they pertain to. Satoru’s leg bounces and he smiles apologetically at Megumi.
“Sorry. God, that’s stupid of me. I knew that.”
“You did,” Megumi agrees. “But that’s okay.” He swallows thickly, “It happens.”
Satoru looks like he’s about to say something else, but he drops it and stands. Megumi finishes eating while Satoru drifts towards the living area to rummage around for the tv remote.
“Aw, Satoru, come on. If you turn that on you’re just going to whine about how much it hurts to look at the entire time.”
“Love is Blind, Gumi. Love is Blind.”
And then he flops onto the couch and closes his original eyes. Megumi sighs silently and opens his ‘Eldritch Satoru Shit’ folder on his phone to jot down the name chanting and lapse in remembering Nanami is dead. He didn’t come up with the name for the folder, that’s all on Maki, but it’s stuck.
Eventually Megumi migrates to the couch as well. He shoves at Satoru’s limbs until he’s carved himself out a spot to curl up, pressed into the corner. The tv show is reality garbage, Megumi turns his nose up to it and regrets not taking advantage of the books store they were in for a little while that afternoon. He’s the only reader besides Toge in the group; he’s not sure Yuji has ever willingly read a novel cover to cover. They’d gone in solely for Megumi, but he hadn’t picked up a single book. He looks over at Satoru. All of his eyes but the pair on his cheeks are closed, and the ones on his cheeks look tired.
“Satoru, are you awake?”
“Yes.”
Megumi nods, “Do you remember Christmases from when I was little?”
All of the eyes flick open and focus on Megumi. Satoru smiles, teeth glinting oddly in the light from the tv. “Yessss. You were little, and I was little.”
Laughing, Megumi eases back further into the cushions. “You were, huh? Only a few years older than I am now.”
“Megumi.”
“Yeah?”
Satoru moves across the couch, stopping a few inches from Megumi. He tilts his head left, then right, then back again. “Young.”
“Not too young,” Megumi says. “I turned seventeen a few days ago, remember?”
“Seventeen.”
“Yeah. It’s been almost three years since…” Megumi trails off. Shoko said the death date is the best way to frame this new Satoru’s understanding of where they are in time. But he hates talking about it, hates reminding Satoru of it. “Anyways, it’s been almost three years.”
“Seventeen,” Satoru says. His voice is muggy and large opalescent tears slide down his forehead and land in his other eyes until he’s blinking and reeling, rubbing at his original eyes. It would probably be useful if he’d gotten extra hands to wipe the extra eyes with.
“Aw come on,” Megumi says. He pats at Satoru’s shoulders. “No sentimentalism. I’m aging, oh no.”
“I’m aging.”
Megumi shakes his head, “Not you. Me.”
Satoru places his hand on his chest, “I’m aging.”
“No Satoru. Not anymore. You don’t age anymore.”
This seems to displease Satoru. He pats his chest harder, pulls on the sweater he’s wearing, then sits back. “You wanted a kangaroo for Christmas. You were little. Small.”
“I was stupid.” Megumi rolls his eyes. Satoru rolls all of his right after. “I asked for that to mess with you.”
Satoru laughs, “yes. I got you a kangaroo.”
“You did. I was so pissed.”
“Always,” Satoru says. He reaches over and grabs Megumi, pulling him into a toasty hug. Megumi lets Satoru have it until he swears he can smell his hair start to burn. Satoru sits back on the couch, pawing around for the remote to turn off the reality show. “Still?”
“Yeah,” Megumi murmurs. There are light pink marks along his arms where he’s touched Satoru. It makes something akin to rage turn over in his stomach. He got Satoru back. But only kind of. Only a little. Never enough, never like before. “Yeah I’m still pissed.”
“At me?”
Megumi looks up at Satoru’s face, the way it flickers between human, familiar, and ghastly, godly. “Always, Satoru.”
Satoru nods, “Good.”
Before bed, Megumi ensures that everyone is still planning on showing up the next day for Christmas. Nobara demands they all wear something, ‘that isn’t embarrassing or fucking sad, come on people,’ and Panda promises to stop by KFC for chicken.
Yuji<3: uhh wut if that triggers toru???????
Yuta: oh. i didn’t even think about that. we could make fried chicken?
Me: he’ll be fine. whats chicken gonna do kill him?
Nobara: holy shitttt megs >_<
Me: do i lie?
Toge: okay so chicken, gifts, not crappy clothes, anything else?
Megumi stares at the ceiling in his room. It hasn’t changed much since he was a shitty kid, but time and neglect have had their effect on the artifacts of his childhood. The constellations Satoru had held Megumi up to paint on the ceiling with glowing glue, have faded into little nobs of dust and off yellow. Everything is a little jarring when he and Satoru don’t really fit in the space that has been theirs for so long. Satoru doesn’t sleep anymore, not that he did much before he died, but his room is immortalized as the half guest room half Satoru’s room it was before everything happened. No one has been in there for a long time.
Rolling over Megumi looks through his open door. Satoru glows where he sits in the dark living area, eyes trained somewhere Megumi will never be able to see. He can almost trick himself that nothing ever happened, that he’s still a spoiled child naive to the horrors of the life he was going to grow up to live. That Satoru has just gotten back from a long mission and is a little off.
Me: just. lets try and have a good christmas
Yuji<3: you okay?
Maki: stop moping, its gonna be lit
Yuta: anything you need we got you megumi
Toge: if u think we’re gonna act weird around satoru, u r wrong
Maki: don’t act like this is a first for any of us, if anything satoru is finally satoru like he’s supposed to be
Nobara: no fr. i bet he isn’t itchy anymore
Yuji<3: we got your back love!!!!!
Nobara: uhhhh that’s gay
Yuta: *sent a screenshot* screenshot of the group chat name: The HomoSorcerers
Nobara: you know what yuta i hope you choke
Toge: actually i do the choking in this relationship
Maki: …. fuck
Yuji<3: oh
Nobara: ToGe!!!!!
Maki: no response to that okkotsu?????
Yuta: *Yuta is typing…* *Yuta has left the chat*
Maki: COWARD
Me: thanks for that. im going to bed. merry christmas eve
Christmas comes with more snow and a Satoru who refuses to come inside until it stops. Megumi eventually leaves him to his own devices, he has shit he needs to do before everyone arrives. He pushes the couches out of the way in the living room and pulls the little table from the dining room into the living room and attaches a folding table he ‘borrowed’ from the school to the end and covers the entire thing in a green table cloth. He doesn’t decorate it past that. Satoru will probably come in and dump a bottle of glitter on it anyways. Megumi sets around an array of mismatched eating utensils and plates unsure if Panda was planning on bringing things to eat off of.
Satoru slams the sliding door to the balcony open as Megumi finishes stacking gifts on the couch. There’s snow all over his back from laying sprawled as he was, staring up at the falling fluff. Megumi raises a brow at him.
“What?”
“Merry Christmas Megumi, I love you.”
Megumi blinks, straightens, “Thanks. Merry Christmas to you too, and uh. Yeah.”
Satoru stomps across the floor and grabs Megumi’s cheeks, “You are my baby.”
“Sheventeen,” Megumi slurs.
“No! My baby. I raised you, I would die for you.”
Megumi grabs Satoru’s wrists, pulling his hands off his face. “You did, Satoru. You did.”
Six eyes blink. Megumi feels a little dizzy. “I did.”
“Yeah.”
Satoru nods, steps away, turns to look at the long, low table. “Good.”
“Debatable,” Megumi mutters. He turns back to his stack when Satoru whips around to look at him.
“Debatable? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means,” Megumi spits, “that I didn’t want you to die for me. That I didn’t want you to die for anyone.”
“But you didn’t die,” Satoru says. He has acquired, somehow in the span of this weird conversation, a bottle of glitter. He yanks the top off and up turns it onto the table, just like Megumi knew he would. “And that is all that matters.”
Megumi sighs, long and heavy. “Did you ask Shoko if she wanted to come?”
Satoru shrugs, his shoulders loose. “Shoko. Ieiri Shoko. Shoko.”
“Yeah. Shoko. Did you ask like you said you were going to?”
This conversation seems to have bored Satoru, he drops the glitter, now empty, onto the floor and reaches towards Megumi with grabby hands. Megumi lets himself get pulled into a hug, he pats at Satoru’s hair. It’s damp from the snow, but drying rapidly and fluffy. He’s so like himself. Megumi closes his eyes, presses his nose into Satoru’s shoulder. It feels like a sunburn that’s burned and peeled and reburned in the span of a few seconds.
“Shoko won’t be lonely,” Satoru says. “She has her love.”
“An invitation would have been nice.” Megumi pulls away. “No more hugs.”
Satoru pouts at him, “Megumiii , so rude. It’s Christmas.”
“Yeah,” Megumi says, “but I don’t want to have burns.” Megumi turns his arms in the light to show Satoru the pink burns.
“Hm. Yuji will hug me.”
“Yuji has zero self preservation skills.”
Satoru barks a laugh, “You are suicidal.”
Was. Was suicidal. And it's not like you can blame Megumi. Life sucked, everyone he loved was dying, Sukuna was eating him from the inside out, Satoru was shooting him full of cursed energy. Sometimes Megumi feels sick from the residuals that have left traces in his body. If he gets sick to the point of vomiting, his mouth tastes like Red and Blue and Purple. Death, dying for the sake of others, felt like peace.
Megumi isn’t like that anymore.
Most of the time.
“Am not,” Megumi tells Satoru. “I’m happy to be alive.”
Satoru ducks his head to look into Megumi's eyes. “Really?”
It’s a little awkward feeling six eyes boring into Megumi’s, but he meets the eyes he has known all his life and nods. “Really. Now come on, go change your sweater. Our guests are inbound.”
Yuji is the first to arrive, he shuffles in, snow in his hair and fumbles Megumi into a hug. Megumi melts against him, mouths a kiss under Yuji’s ear and whispers a merry Christmas in the privacy of their little bubble.
“Can I kiss your lips?” Yuji asks quietly. His eyes are dark, flecked with golden light from the garland. Megumi leans closer, nodding against Yuji's shoulder. Yuji tips up Megumi’s face with a finger under his chin and leans down to press their mouths together.
Yuji sucks at kissing. He’s enthusiastic and hungry, but he smiles, laughs until Megumi has to pull away and kiss his cheeks, the marks beneath his eyes.
“Ridiculous,” Megumi tells him, mouth on his left temple. Yuji laughs, squeezes Megumi’s hips and ducks down to press their lips together again.
“That is. Adorable.”
Yuji jumps, panicked for a moment before he sees Satoru. Then he’s leaving Megumi in the door, tripping out of his shoes and tossing himself at Satoru.
“Puppy,” Satoru laughs, hugging Yuji like he is an overlarge puppy. Satoru has lost some of the decorum when it comes to how he interacts with people. He lifts Yuji bodily off the ground in his excitement, squeezing him until Yuji knocks a fist against Satoru’s shoulder for release. Satoru drops Yuji just enough to rub a hand into his hair. “How are you?”
“I’m good! Merry Christmas Satoru!” Yuji clasps Satoru’s arms, stepping back to get a look at him, “How are you?”
“Megumi says I’m doing a good job at talking,” Satoru informs him. “And snow.”
Yuji nods sagely. “A white Christmas is the best.”
“The best!”
Megumi waves Yuji further into the house before Satoru can kidnap him and hold him hostage on the freezing balcony. Temperature isn’t really a thing to Satoru anymore.
“Gifts go there,” Megumi says, pointing to the pile. “Sit wherever you want. The others should be here soon.”
Yuji sinks to the floor, sighing happily. He reaches forward to stick a finger in a pile of glitter. “Festive, sweetheart.”
Megumi scoffs, “Don’t call me that, makes us sound old, and that is courtesy of Satoru.”
Satoru wiggles his fingers, he’s standing in the entrance, refusing to move until the rest of the party has arrived.
“Pretty, Satoru. And sorry, babe .”
Megumi kicks him under the table. “Not pretty, Satoru. Messy.”
Satoru snickers and turns around to stare uncannily at the door. Yuji smiles at Megumi, leaning over to rest on his shoulder.
“You’re right, he is doing good at talking.”
“Yeah,” Megumi murmurs, “I’m pretty happy about it, though.” He pulls out his phone and gives it to Yuji. “He was noticeably jarred last night.”
Yuji’s brows draw together as he reads. He hands the phone back and blinks at Megumi with sad eyes. “He forgot Nanamin died.”
“Yeah,” Megumi says quietly. “I might have confused him. I mentioned him before we started talking about today.”
“Does he.” Yuji glances at Satoru, licks his lips, “He remembers e-everything right? I thought Shoko said he would retain memory, and I figured it would get better.”
“It is,” Megumi says quickly. “Some days I forget that he’s not Satoru from before, but he’s not. He’s barely human and trying to apply the same understanding of how his head works to us is useless.”
“That’s so smart of you,” Yuji laughs. “You sound so intelligent.”
“I am intelligent,” Megumi huffs. “But that’s just what Shoko told me when Satoru first got his body back and I was struggling to help him.”
There’s a knock at the door then, before Yuji can reply and Megumi has to run to open it before Satoru does something like get distracted by something outside and leaves.
The apartment shrinks from small to tiny with all eight of them crammed into the living area around the table. Panda brought more chicken then they will ever be able to eat, Toge has a stack of gifts that topple out of his hands across the floor. Nobara and Maki tease Satoru about his strange fashion sense, all soft, all bright, all slightly childish. Satoru has attached himself to Yuta who has a strange tolerance for the clinging of a powerful curse. Satoru has an arm interlocked with one of Yuta’s and the other engaged with a game Maki has started to play with knives.
Megumi leans back on a hand watching his friends and family tear into their meal and yammer about the strange mundaneness their lives have fallen into. They go on missions still, Megumi had been in New Zealand a few weeks before Christmas, but they aren’t the same. In a good way. Curses aren’t as dangerous as they were, or maybe they’re just more powerful. Either way, they talk about missions with a lightness that makes it dinner conversation. Satoru is able to maintain conversation well, occasionally he loses the ends of sentences or words run long on his tongue, but Megumi finds himself smiling. He’s content even when Yuji gets to his feet and asks for a toast and a moment of silence for those they lost.
There’s glitter in the chicken, someone brought alcohol that Yuta warned them not to drink, but his cheeks are pinks and he’s a little tipsy himself. Yuji is slumped hot against Megumi’s side, kissing him whenever Megumi thinks he’s fallen asleep.
Satoru eventually lets go of Yuta, he pats the top of each head he walks past on his way to the couch where he sits down heavily. Yuta catches Megumi’s eye across the table. Gifts and then a quieter activity.
Satoru watches them go through packages. A variety of weapons, clothes, books, gag gifts–Megumi gets a bra that would fit a pair of double d’s from Panda–are passed around.
Yuji hands Megumi a smaller, poorly wrapped present, the tips of his ears as pink as his hair. Megumi takes it and turns slightly away from the rest of the group to open it. A little crystal dog falls into his palm. It’s delicate in its craftsmanship, the features are tiny but etched with detail. Megumi looks up at Yuji.
“Thank you, it’s lovely.”
Yuji grins at him, “I saw it and I knew I had to get it for you.”
Megumi pulls Yuji down for a kiss. They smile against each other. “Merry Christmas.”
Satoru stands up suddenly, jolting Megumi away from Yuji. They all watch silently as Satoru leaves the room and goes–to Megumi’s slight horror–into his old bedroom. Megumi stands up too, intent on following him, but Yuji grabs his wrist.
“Just wait, I’m sure he’s okay.”
Megumi sits back on the couch, “he hasn’t been in there in a long, long time though.”
“Maybe he got jealous,” Nobara yawns. She’s laying on the floor a new eye patch on and her hands gripped by Toge and Maki respectively. They’re layering satin colored nail polish on her nails. “For the record, I couldn’t think of anything to get a curse, but I tried.”
“Tuna,” Toge says.
“He’s not fully a curse,” Panda offers. “I thought mittens were a good idea.”
Yuta turns to him, “You got him mittens?”
"No, I made him mittens.”
“That’s cute.”
Megumi ignores them all, he’s listening to hear what Satoru is doing in the other room. From the sounds of it, nothing. Did he get overwhelmed? It’s been a few months, almost a year, since they were all together like this. If so Megumi has no issue leaving him to his own devices. At the same time, they do have gifts for him so if he’s pouting about that Megumi won’t let him wallow in it.
Satoru is back out in the living room before Megumi can decide if he should go after him. He has a. It’s a. Megumi squints at the lump in his hands.
“You should have let me get gifts for all of you,” Satoru says. He drops the thing on the couch by Megumi.
“Satoru?” Megumi asks, he starts to unwind the, oh. Megumi holds up the white shirt speckled with light brown coffee stains.
“You kept that?” Nobara laughs.
“Of course,” Satoru says, “it was expensive.”
But it’s not just the coffee stained shirt. It’s a collection of Satoru’s shirts. Articles he wore when he wasn’t in his uniform. Things that Megumi remembers from the dojo and grocery shopping and vacations to Disney. He unfolds all of them and looks back at Satoru.
“For you all,” Satoru says. “Shirts.”
It’s quiet for a few moments before they all laugh. Panda leans over and grabs a lilac button up and pulls it on. The fabric strains across his back, the seams along the sleeves split. Satoru laughs too, an unearthly high sound that makes the windows shake a little bit.
“Thank you, we will treasure these forever,” Megumi says. He pushes the shirts onto the floor and pats the now empty cushion.“We have some things for you too. Sit down.”
Satoru sits down and takes the package that Panda pushes on him. The mittens are light blue, crocheted with little stars along the holes. Satoru looks at them, sticks his hands in them, then puts them on his lap.
“Soft.”
“Glad you liked them!” Panda says.
Megumi puts the box with the blindfold on Satoru’s knees. “No pressure about this or anything.”
“Yeah.” Yuta sits up, “we don’t mean to make you feel like we’re pushing you to be something you can’t be anymore. We just–”
“Guys,” Yuji interrupts, “Let him open it.”
Satoru opens it with little grace, the expensive wrapping paper coiling on the floor at his feet. Satoru opens the box. He drops the lid unceremoniously and lifts the blindfold out of the box. It feels like the room is holding its breath as Satoru examines the length of fabric.
“For your eyes,” Megumi finally says. “If you want.”
Satoru looks at him with his original eyes, “All of them?’
Standing Megumi holds out his hand for the blindfold. Satoru hands it over then sits very still when Megumi steps behind him to tie the blindfold in place. It falls into place exactly as Megumi was hoping it would; all six eyes covered from forehead to the middle of his cheeks. The tension falls out of Satoru’s shoulders, his hands fly up to touch the fabric.
“Megumi,” Satoru croaks. “Megumi.”
Megumi squeezes his shoulders, letting Satoru cling to his wrists.
“Is it okay?”
“Yeah, yeah. I’m. It feels like I’m. More.”
Yuta kneels by Satoru’s legs, “Good more?”
“Yes,” Satoru breathes. “Thank you.”
Satoru is on the balcony. It’s snowing again and it looks like a different kind of magic at night. Megumi steps out into it, wrapping his arms around his chest and goes to stand by Satoru. The blindfold is on, gathering snow. Satoru looks even more human, like the Satoru of Megumi’s childhood, like Satoru the teacher and protector.
“When you said more, what did you mean?”
Satoru turns a blinding smile on him, “I feel more here. Less there, you know?”
Not really, but at the same time he does know. Megumi slumps where he stands, leaning over to bump his shoulders against Satoru.
“Well good. Your presents sucked. Shirts, really?”
“I can’t go outside!”
Megumi glances at him out of the corner of his eye. “We could try now?”
“Campus?”
“Eh, maybe not campus, but just out. More.”
Satoru nods, bouncy where he sits, “I won’t eat anyone. Promise with a cherry on top”
“Can you?”
“Why couldn’t I?”
Hm. Fair.
“You know,” Megumi says quietly, “I didn’t mean for the blindfold to change you. I thought you would just feel more comfortable when you come sit out here or watch tv. I don’t care that you’re not human, that you don’t look human. You’re still my family either way.”
“You take good care of me, Megumi,” Satoru whispers like it's some great secret between them.
“Yeah well, someone has to.”
“I’ll do better next Christmas,” Satoru says.
Yuji calls for Megumi from inside, they’ve started a game of cursed cards sitting under the kotatsu that’s taken the place of the makeshift dining table. Satoru shrugs his shoulder out of Megumi's grip.
“Go on, k-kiddo. I’ll hold down the fort.”
Megumi stops right before he steps through the door. “You know Satoru, the idea of a next Christmas where we’re all here, is enough for me.”
“Sentimental little jerk.”
“Fine,” Megumi says dryly. “I want my own place next Christmas.”
Satoru nods, “Okay. House or apartment?”
“Wait. I-I was kidding, I just thought of the most expensive thing I could.”
“Two rooms or one?”
“Satoru.”
“Thinking about Yuji, might want to be with you.”
Megumi returns to Satoru’s side, “Dad–uh. F-fuck. Sorry.”
He starts to back up, shame flaring heat into Megumi’s ears, but Satoru’s hand shoots out and he snags Megumi’s sweatshirt. The hug isn’t as hot as they normally are, maybe it’s the biting cold. But Megumi buries himself against Satoru’s chest mortified that he let that slip, that he let it slip now when it’s too fucking late. Satoru can’t. He could barely when he was a human, no way he can as a god. Megumi knows they care for each other, that the care persisted through life and death, but he also can’t expect that of Satoru.
“I’m sorry,” Megumi chokes. “I’m so sorry, Satoru.”
Satoru hushes him; it sounds like wind in naked branches, frozen in the gasp of winter.
“Me too.” And his voice is barely human.
Megumi curls into him tighter, feels like sobbing into the sweater that doesn’t really smell like Satoru anymore. He isn’t gone, he’s holding Megumi right now.
“I will take care of you until I cannot anymore,” Satoru says into Megumi’s hair. “Do you understand me?”
“Yes.”
“Megumi.”
“I know.”
Satoru pushes him away, smoothes the residue of barely fallen tears off his face. He smiles, canines a little sharper than normal. “You want your own place, you have it, want nothing but Christmas with all of us, you have it. I will protect you.”
“What if I don’t want you to do that?”
Satoru tilts his head, “Then let me have that for myself, for Christmas.”
“Okay. For Christmas.”
Satoru leans back on his palms, “Go play with your friends.”
“Right, uh.”
“Megs.”
Megumi stares at the ground, “What?”
“Don’t let what you said be a burden, it’s not on me.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
Letting out a shuddering breath, Megumi squares his shoulders, “Merry Christmas, Satoru.”
“Merry Christmas, kid.”