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Many days were easier than others.
It was difficult for Megumi to simply forget, to let the memories dissolve into experiences that formed a hardened shell around him. The thoughts of Shibuya, of Shinjuku, tortured him to no end. Life felt like an inescapable flurry, a haze of experiences that he was destined to never forget. Ever since he was young, he longed for the comforting softness of a domestic life, a life filled with washing laundry and cooking warm meals. Yet now, it felt like a misjustice to his past.
Living in the apartment with Yuuji, sharing a bed and dishing out chores, it was an ideal life. Though, at the same time, it was one in which he refused to grasp.
Some days his limbs twitched, reminded of how they had been involuntarily pushed and shoved; used to break bones and crack fragile skin. There are nights where he thinks of Gojo, of Tsumiki’s blood, still dried, still stuck underneath his fingertips. Even when he washes his hands red and raw, the fear never dissipates, the blood stays.
Many mornings, he wakes up to their white bedsheets and thinks of fresh snow, of Shiro, of Gojo’s hair. Often it ends with Kuro barking for his partner, alerting him that his owner is in distress. More so than usual, at this point.
Even now, in his own body, the sensations are foreign. With Sukuna inadvertently pulling the strings for so long, playing him like a useless marionette until he had fallen apart and been tossed aside. It was an experience that no one else could understand or sympathize with. Nobody but Yuuji, he supposed.
Megumi avoids mirrors. He refuses to see the marks in which Sukuna left behind, the scars that tell a story he never wants to hear again. It makes him feel sick knowing that they are even there , that they occupy the better half of his face. Certain days it’s nearly impossible not to pick at them, to wiggle his nails underneath the sensitive edges and press until his fingertips are splayed crimson. Throughout his youth, he had never once appreciated the proper pleasures of having a clear face and an unexplored soul.
To know that Sukuna had been inside of him, ruffling through each and every memory held dear to his heart. It was violating, disgusting, anxiety inducing. For all those sacred moments to be stripped away, grabbed with stained hands and used for the sake of achieving victory, it left Megumi undoubtedly bitter.
After all, what was the point? Why would he fight for a world that went so unknowing of his existence? Was there any use in it? In forcing himself to live for a cause that didn’t support him? For a lifestyle that ended with both his sister and his mentor dying by his own hands? Megumi liked to think of himself as a rational person, as someone who wanted to save those who were deserving of being saved. Therefore, what was the point when all he did was hurt his loved ones?
Was it selfish to wonder if anyone would care? Surely, Yuuji and Nobara would be sad. Though, at the end of the day, they would move on from him, just as they had done with their former teacher. They didn’t necessarily need him in the way that he needed them. He wasn’t their anchor, their tie to civilization, the only thing standing in the way of erasing their own existence.
“Morning, handsome!”
Megumi doesn’t stir much despite Yuuji’s voice, loud and energetic and sickeningly sweet. It’s hard to fathom that regardless of their shared experiences, he still finds the energy to rise each morning without being swallowed by guilt. Though, he supposes that at least one of them has to maintain some semblance of composure. If Yuuji were to crumble underneath the pressure and stop properly functioning, he had no idea how they would both manage.
Megumi doesn’t respond, still hidden underneath the copious layers of bed sheets, perhaps in hopes that soon he would melt into them.
The mattress underneath him eventually dips down, indicating that his partner had chosen to join him instead. Yuuji’s body is warm, practically a furnace. His hands snake around Megumi’s waist, careful not to touch him in any of the ways that may rouse a negative response. It almost makes him feel bitter, frustrated. This wasn’t anything he deserved: tender touches, soft words, and unlimited patience. Not after the mass destruction that had come from his own hands in Shinjuku.
How could his boyfriend still treat him like a glass doll that would shatter underneath the slightest amount of pressure? They’d all seen what he’d done, even involuntarily, the carnage and destruction of his uncontrolled technique practically leveled the city to rubble. No longer was he regarded as Yuuji’s equal, a companion who was just as strong and capable of managing himself. Instead, it was almost as though he’d been reduced to a child. There was no avoiding the way his classmates bit their tongues when addressing him or hesitated as they spoke too freely.
Why were they determined to infantilize him? To act as if he were a live wire that snapped at whomever grew too lax or calm around him? It only further emphasized just how far from normal his life strayed, forcing him to remember the events he desperately desired to forget.
Maybe if he hadn’t been so useless or codependent, life would be different. Gojo and Tsumiki would still be alive, Sukuna’s imprint on him would be gone, and the world would be that much greater for it. How could he ever forgive himself? Or, even worse, how would his friends ever forgive him?
Megumi saw disappointment everywhere. In the way that Yuuta never met his eyes and awkwardly brushed his bangs forward to hide healing scars. In the way that Nobara danced around him, softer and quieter than normal instead of her usual brash self. In the way that Yuuji’s kindness nearly seemed fake with how exaggerated it was.
Did they hate him? Did they whisper behind his back? Did they deem him unworthy of standing amongst them? So many thoughts clouded his mind, each worse than the last and growing in intensity. All of them were heroes for banding together against Sukuna, while the only part Megumi had played was that of a lifeless vessel-
“Honey?” Yuuji’s voice was soft, as though prodding a child. Fingers pressed curiously at his hip, gingerly caressing the pale skin underneath that likely hadn’t seen sunlight for weeks. In all honesty, the consistent gentleness left Megumi feeling unreasonably angry. At times he wanted to push his boyfriend, to smack his patient hands away and force rage to take its place instead. It would be easier if Yuuji were to hate him just as much as he hated himself.
Instead, he simply remained.
“Let’s get you washed up, hm?” Persistent as ever, gentle hands guided him to a sitting position and caressed his back fondly.
Admittedly his hair and skin did feel grimy from his past few days of hibernation. Maybe if Megumi had enough shame left he would be embarrassed or ashamed over the condition he was currently in: allowing each day that Gojo had sacrificed himself for to fade away into obscurity. It was a waste, to put it plainly, for the strongest sorcerer in the world to be exchanged for a person so easily broken. If he were still alive, their teacher would likely have spent his time bettering the world instead of wallowing in self pity.
Megumi sighed and nodded slowly with bated breath.
Reaching the bathroom took longer than he would have anticipated. Most of his weight leaned on Yuuji. Megumi’s legs felt weak and sluggish from neglect. Even as he slowly undressed himself, Megumi refused to observe any aspect of his own body. He didn’t want to see how the definition on his chest had disappeared or how the scars on his hands scabbed over. It was all forced reminders of his failures, of who he had lost, of Sukuna .
It wasn’t until a calloused hand had smoothed over his own fingers that Megumi realized he had been shaking. Within a single instant, he soon found himself crushed against a familiar broad chest and secured inside warm arms.
“You’re okay, Megumi. It’s alright.” Yuuji’s voice sounded from just above his ear, a soft kiss pressed against his temple to emphasize the soothing words. “Let's get you in the bath, okay?”
Warm water encompassed him, hot and soapy and soothing to his tired limbs. Thinking about how fluidly he’d moved only months ago before his hopes had been utterly shattered was odd. Especially when now getting up to explore the garden was a struggle. At times he missed it: the burning pain of his lungs gasping for more air and the tired heave of his chest after running laps with his old classmates.
Such tasks felt like a lifetime ago, almost like a faded dream that was becoming less clear by the second as it faded off into obscurity.
Megumi stared for a long moment at the tub, observing the bright blue water with a reluctant gaze. The bath bomb that Yuuji had added to the steaming water seemed to crumble, bright blue pieces breaking off and bubbling while leaving behind streaks of color. They were so vibrant, so intense and familiar. It reminded him of Gojo’s eyes. The six eyes. His hands trembled again and he drew his knees into his chest, tucking his chin into his body.
“Do you want me to turn on some music? You should close your eyes. I don’t want to get soap in them.” As if sensing where his train of thought began to direct towards, Yuuji immediately swooped in with soothing words and warm hands. They combed through his tangled hair, working slowly to carefully remove the knots that formed during his sulky state. So, wanting to ease his tired brain, Megumi simply followed the given instructions and closed his eyes as the sound of classical music filled the room.
Hands caressed and massaged his shoulders, briefly easing most of the tension held around his neck before they crept up to play with the hair at the base of his neck. Next, nails thoroughly scratched at his scalp and lathered his dark locks with vanilla scented shampoo. It was nice, definitely pampering. Maybe Megumi would have even returned the gesture had this been occurring a few months prior. Maybe they would have laughed or kissed, splashing each other with the water and playfully bickering. Maybe everything could have been better.
Though, realistically, Megumi knew nothing was stopping him from turning then into now , nothing besides himself.
“Yuuji.” His voice felt raspy and thick, like he needed to grow accustomed to utilizing it. “Can you come in too?”
It was easy to observe the way that the eyes of his pink-haired companion glimmered with excitement, utterly pleased by even the smallest of suggestions. For a moment, he honestly regretted the request. Would Yuuji feel disappointed if nothing were to venture beyond lazy washing? Would he expect instant progress from Megumi’s current state? Would his patience reach an end? His negative inner worries continued to spiral despite the sound of his boyfriend carefully undressing. Now he’s nervous once again, unable to cope with any more signs of dissatisfaction from his former peers.
Distracting him from his fears, the sound of water sloshing is quick to draw his attention. Megumi’s teal eyes flutter open to observe his boyfriend settling himself down beside him in the small tub. Their knees press together, crammed by the small proximity of the space, but he doesn’t mind. It’s easy to feel the heat radiating from Yuuji’s thick limbs despite the steaming water. With the smallest urge of confidence he finds himself scooting closer until he’s once again tucked away in strong arms.
“I love you, Megumi.” The sentiment is whispered against his damp skin with another doting kiss pressed to his forehead. Most of his hair remains lathered with soapy bubbles from the shampoo, pulled back to show his full face with his hair tucked behind his ears.
He wonders for a moment if Yuuji hates looking at his scars.
It doesn’t take long before the suds are rinsed away, his hair dripping down the base of his neck and across his temples. Though his insides still feel filthy and unclean, he had almost forgotten how nice it was to traverse the annoying tasks of taking care of himself. No longer does his hair feel tangled or matted, even if it had yet to return to its normal sleek shine. This was a start.
“Let me wash you too.” Megumi suggested, shifting to look at his boyfriend.
Once again, Yuuji seemed smitten with the smallest of gestures. His cheeks tinted a rosy pink and his bright hazel eyes fluttered shut instantly. As if by instinct, like an eager puppy awaiting pets, he leaned himself forwards so it would be easier for his hair to be assessed. It left his heart feeling a little sore that despite everything, his companion was forever grateful for any type of attention he was willing to reciprocate.
If Megumi was thankful for one thing out of this entire experience of sorcery, it was that Yuuji had never changed.
Mapping the curve of Yuuji’s split lip, he surveyed the handsome face before him with intense scrutiny. Every inch of him was perfect: from the jagged scar above his right eyebrow down to the slight crookedness of his upturned nose. He was perfect. No matter how numb or emotionless Megumi felt, there would always be a hidden part of him that fought off butterflies each time he saw his partner.
Megumi could openly admit he wasn’t rather expressive emotionally. Whenever he dared to risk the thoughts of fondness, of recognizing his affinities for others and beginning to grow reliant on them, it was ultimately spoiled. After the long years of being raised as Gojo’s ward, maybe teetering terrifyingly close to an adopted child, the admittance of his feelings was scary. It seemed as though each time he allowed himself to trust someone, they were unfairly ripped from his grasp.
Initially it had been Yuuji, then Nobara, Nanami and finally, Gojo. Sure, both Yuuji and Nobara had returned after some time to unveil their false passings; but that hadn’t erased any of the hurt he had experienced. That would never undo the tears he had shed over them, the sleepless nights or the restless dreams. For a few months he let himself seethe in silence, hurt and confused with the feeling of betrayal bordering on resentment.
Now, with the loss of Gojo, it only furthered his anxieties.
Was this life with Yuuji too good to be true? Would it end? How much longer did they have to spend together living in this domestic fantasy?
Fingers swept tiredly through spiked pink hair, repeating the motions of lathering and washing with an awkward heaviness. His arms felt reluctant, stiff, gloomy with the constant reminder of what he had lost. Most nights it was hard to fall asleep without his hands on Yuuji in some way, shape or form, trapping his fluttering heartbeat underneath his fingertips. The soft rhythmic thump was the only constant comfort in his life, besides that of his partner and his pet.
As if on cue, the pitter-pattering of footsteps quickly catches his attention. Megumi meets Kuro’s eyes with a hidden smile, motioning him forwards while Yuuji stirs to life beside him.
“I think Kuro wants bath-time too!” His boyfriend teases, leaning up against the edge of the tub and outstretching his hand to scratch the dog's perked ears. They would likely have been out on a walk together while Megumi had been sleeping, considering how late in the morning it was. Such a realization leaves him feeling guilty.
“Let’s give him a bath later.” Megumi agrees, nodding despite the suggestion only being meant as a joke on behalf of his boyfriend. Lately, with how his mood was, Kuro rarely got to see his primary owner. Undoubtedly he loves Yuuji and was never hesitant to greet him with an excited yip or happy jump, but they’ve been spending more time alone than normal. It’s only fair that Kuro gets more attention for him, and it would probably brighten his own mood in return.
“Oh. Yeah, totally.” The expression on Yuuji’s face that had momentarily been wide and teasing slowly melts away into something more genuine.
His heart feels lighter as they eventually leave the bath, drying their wet bodies down with bright fuzzy towels and rubbing some cheap scented lotion onto dry skin. Out of pure stubbornness, Megumi knows that he will never admit just how good such a small act of self care makes him feel. He doesn’t want to yet accredit it with brightening his mood, especially not when his boyfriend has been putting in such tireless efforts. Though, it’s a habit he decides to make note of for later.
Megumi tries not to drag his feet as he follows Yuuji into the kitchen. It’s familiar, like he remembers, but still somehow a sight to behold. Clearly, the floors and counters had recently been cleaned; all of them scrubbed to glittering perfection. Copious photos line the cream walls, pictures of their peers and different family members all displayed in neatly polished frames. Fruits adorn the bowl decorating the counter, overflowing with all his favorite sour apples and ripe tangy pineapple.
His chest feels tight.
“Alright! What’ll it be tonight?” Clasping his hands together and commanding Megumi’s attention, Yuuji straightened up his posture. Maybe he had noticed that his boyfriend was staring for a particularly long and painful amount of time at his old childhood photos. Yet, he pays it no mind. Megumi pulls his eyes away reluctantly from the image of his younger self and a significantly smaller Shiro. He remembered that day well. It had been when he’d met Hana all those years ago. It had been snowing, they’d been bringing snacks back for Tsumiki and Gojo had snapped the photo after teasing him over conversing with the young girl.
“Yuuji.” Megumi mumbled, trying and failing desperately to swallow the building lump in his throat. “I miss them.”
It was the first time he has spoken such a thing aloud, allowing himself to fully acknowledge what they both knew but refused to discuss. Gojo and Tsumiki were gone, and although he had spent months withering away and grieving their existence, he had never once allowed himself to confess such thoughts. Because saying it, admitting out loud with his own words meant it had to be true, and therefore Megumi had to also confront the fact that his family was no longer with him.
For years he thought he had grown adjusted to being alone. Never learning the truth about where his dad vanished, knowing since youth that his mother had long passed and coping with Tsumiki’s coma felt like it forced him to build a hardened shell. Though, in moments like this, he was reminded just how thin that strength wavered.
“I know you do, baby.” Yuuji’s voice returns the sentiment just as gently, with warm hands suddenly pulling Megumi into a firm embrace.
It’s embarrassing how quickly he crumbles as a result. All of his resolve shattering like a piece of glass, his throat tightening to hold back sobs while tears sting in his eyes. To finally admit how deeply the loss of both Gojo and Tsumiki broke him, it feels endlessly vulnerable, especially after having his mind senselessly ravaged by Sukuna. With enough time spent sulking, sleeping away hours of the day in hopes that this entire situation was a dream, Megumi hoped to suppress the guilt and hurt festering in his chest. Though, it seems he had only suppressed it.
For the first time, he allows himself to cry in Yuuji’s arms.
The sobs that had been caged for months finally escaped in loud and heart wrenching cries. Megumi feels his body quivering from the sheer strength of it, his shoulders shaking and sputtering gasps echoing in between dramatic inhales. Yet, no matter how intense his distress becomes; the hand patiently rubbing his back never pulls away. Even after the dramatic display begins to trickle off into quiet hiccups and soft sniffles, Yuuji remains stubbornly affectionate.
Once his tears had finally dried, sticky and uncomfortable against his face, Megumi looked up at his boyfriend. He wanted to apologize, to explain away such a blatant scene of vulnerability. Although they weren’t as acquainted, Yuuji was probably hurting from the loss of Gojo as well. His lips part, gathering up the strength to repent before he is suddenly being kissed.
The kiss, if you could even label it as such, was more similar to a peck. It was brief and chaste, no heat behind its intention. As though it had purposefully been done for the sole goal of quieting him.
“I know what you were about to say. So don’t.” Yuuji whispers, sounding more emotional than his features looked in the moment. “It’s not your fault.” His boyfriend insists, and the weight of his words hits Megumi like a truck.
How could he not be to blame? Every day he sees that memory, remembers the critical moment where he had insisted on following Yuuji because of his own useless anxieties and ended up with his boyfriend’s severed finger shoved deep in his mouth. Thinking of it all again: the taste of coppery blood, the haunting laugh of Sukuna in his ears and the control to his body being transferred, made him sick.
Megumi swayed on his feet, lightheaded from the painful memories.
“I should’ve let you leave that day. I was being careless.” He mourns, head throbbing while he attempts to fight his way out of Yuuji’s firm hold.
“No, don’t say that kind of stuff.” Shaking his head firmly, Yuuji seems to only squeeze him tighter in response.
“It’s true.”
“Megumi, all of us feel that way.” His boyfriend pleads, expression pained.
“What if Nobara or Inumaki healed sooner? What if Okkotsu never swapped with Sensei? What if I hadn’t eaten Sukuna’s finger back then ?” During the last question, Yuuji’s voice breaks and his honey eyes look wet with unshed tears. Megumi feels nauseous all over again. Of course he hadn’t meant to transfer the grief or the guilt to his lover, but hypotheticals mercilessly plagued him.
“I wonder about it too. If I could’ve done something to save Choso, or Nanamin, or even grandpa…” Such a statement surprises him, especially when his boyfriend seems so solid in his past decisions. Perhaps he had just been hiding it all this time? It’s hard to tell.
“But we can’t worry about our mistakes. Not when they sacrificed themselves for us. I’m sure if they could see us now they would be proud. They would’ve wanted us to be happy, and to live a long life.” Yuuji seemed to reassure them both, meeting Megumi’s eyes with far too much warmth than what he truly deserved.
Honestly, Megumi hadn’t truly anticipated for the words to resonate as harshly as they did. To realize that his boyfriend, someone who was strong and unwavering regardless of the outcome, felt similarly provided an unexplainable comfort. Of course he knew that he wasn’t alone through the copious texts his friends sent, the cards from their other teachers and the presence of Yuuji constantly wrapped around him.
Yet, this was the first time that he genuinely felt understood. Though guilt was a despicable feeling, one that seemed to rot him from the inside out, Megumi was relieved the burden he subdued for months wasn’t one he held alone.
“I know. You’re right. It’s just not fair.” Megumi whispers, voice fragile like a leaf in the wind while he heaves another wet sob against Yuuji’s firm shoulder. Perhaps his agreement wouldn’t be enough to properly stick, but it fulfills the job of quelling the murky waters for now. There was no point in arguing with his boyfriend when Yuuji’s mind was unwavering. Maybe with enough time, Megumi would come to recognize his opinion as truth. Deep down, he prayed that one day that would be the case.
There were multiple occasions within his childhood where he used to cry for his mother, mourning the person he would never get to meet. Although he never experienced her warmth, her smile or the sound of her laughter, it was tricky not to yearn for the presence of a stranger. Most of his nights were spent staring up at the stars through the window of whatever dingy apartment they had settled in for the month, crossing his fingers together and silently begging for a caretaker.
It unfortunately took him until Tsumiki’s coma to realize he’d had one all along.
Gojo and Tsumiki were his patchwork family, neither of them related to him by blood or with any obligation to stay. However, despite his reservations, Megumi came to value them more than anything. To finally admit how deeply he cherished them not long enough after their passing felt selfish and spoiled. The regret was suffocating, debilitating, and he would sacrifice anything to spend another mere minute with them.
“They loved you. I know it hurts, and that it’s hard, but they chose to do all of that for you . The only way we can honor that is by living. By enjoying things for their sake.” Yuuji agreed, pressing their foreheads together in an intimate manner that nearly scared him off.
Warm hazel met teal in a suffocatingly reassuring gaze, one that slowly dried the tears on his cheeks and eased his soft hiccups. Through the comfort, Megumi remained silent and allowed himself to relish the sweet attention. Perhaps he didn’t deserve it, or even a person as forgiving as Yuuji, but the display of admiration couldn’t be easily dismissed.
Finally, his boyfriend shifted as if to pull away and Megumi felt his breath hitch in a particularly vulnerable manner.
“Hey. I’m not going anywhere.” He hears Yuuji murmur and feels smooth fingers caressing over the curve of his jawline. “Come on, you should have something to eat, Megumi. Grandpa always said if you’re going to be sad, it’s better to be sad while eating something yummy!”
Megumi stared at him for a long moment, debating between wanting to question where such a ridiculous suggestion had emerged from or merely laughing in the face of his partner.
Ultimately, he didn’t have the heart to do either.
“Um, alright.” It’s obvious that his agreement is based in reluctance and skepticism. Nevertheless, Megumi is attentive in his movements. He shadows his boyfriend as he approaches the stove, utilizing the extra inches of his height to effortlessly peer over Yuuji’s shoulder.
“Go sit down. I got it!” Yuuji flushes, a pink tint creeping up on his tanned face while he dismissively waves an arm to shield the work he has initiated.
No time had been wasted in laying out a colorful array of vegetables and spices across the counter, very pointedly including all of Megumi’s favorites. A huge bowl of finely grated ginger is already prepared on the side, likely prepped by Yuuji prior to when they’d even taken the bath together. A full body ache overwhelms him once more. Although the gesture is minimal, likely only taking a few minutes to complete, it’s so whole that it makes his chest ache.
Instead of sulking and continuing to retreat into the pitiful feelings of self-pity or insecurity, Megumi is struck with the overwhelming determination to return the love he was selfishly gifted.
Maybe it was too late to display his feelings of gratitude towards Tsumiki and Gojo, but that didn’t mean he would repeat those same mistakes with Yuuji. For much too long he had let the regrets plague him like a creeping illness, planting the rosebuds of resentment in his chest while he suffocated on his emotional woes. Perhaps neither of his family members had experienced the vast amount of love he had to give and they sadly would never receive that chance.
But, that didn’t mean his other relationships had to endure the same fate.
Yuuji had a point. Wasting the sacrifices of both Gojo and Tsumiki by lazing around in bed for the rest of his life would mean that they had died in vain. Nothing could be done to change the past, but what was in his control was the future. Even if he could only muster up the strength to indulge in small pleasures: the warmth of a clean bath, the feeling of freshly washed laundry on his skin and the taste of good food, any tiny victory could still be considered as such.
“Let me help.” Megumi murmured, quiet but firm while he dropped his chin down to prop it against Yuuji’s shoulder and observe his skilled movements. The knife glides easily through each of the vegetables, chopping them with an effortlessness that nearly dissolves his mind back into dark thoughts. Swallowing away any reminder of Shinjuku, he instead focuses on Yuuji’s hands. They are calloused and tough across the palms, with his thick fingers covered in various scars.
It’s a beautiful sight to see such hands that had quelled him nearly every night since that fateful day, wiping his tears and dutifully combing his hair.
“Yuuji.” He prompts for the second time that day, eventually settling his own shaking hands overtop of his boyfriend’s.
For a moment, he stills; fighting for the courage to speak his mind. Being this vulnerable, practically laying himself bare for the person he loved most to judge and assess, it was terrifying. Yet, why stop now when he had already ventured down the rabbit hole?
“I love you. Thank you for doing all this.” Megumi whispers, the admission nearly muffled against Yuuji’s shoulder while he squeezes his eyes shut tight.
Yuuji doesn’t shift underneath him, and Megumi’s heart beats frantically, terrified by the non-response.
Was his boyfriend irritated? Upset? Disappointed? Was he expecting a greater reward for his months of devoted service? Considering the idea of his lover being displeased was enough to leave him feeling rather sickly. The worries began to snowball regardless of how short the pause was, building in his head until he could feel the upcoming headache-
“I know, baby. I love you too.” Yuuji chirped, ruffling his hair and smiling before returning to his task. The rhythmic sound of chopping filled the room once more while Megumi could only glance up at his partner in awe. Had he heard that correctly? Of course he was well aware that the budding negative thoughts were no more than just that, to hear the sentiment repeated back with zero hesitation was enough to stun him.
He stares back dumbly, listening to the firm heartbeat of Yuuji’s steady chest.
“Okay.” Megumi agrees, wrapping his hands around his boyfriend’s hips to squeeze him tightly; needing the lifeline of his unwavering body to cling to. “We should still walk Kuro later.”
“Yeah, that’s a good idea.” Yuuji is quick to support, pressing a kiss to his cheek and very visibly enjoying the change in demeanor from his lover. “I’m sure he’ll be happy!”
“I want to put flowers at the grave.” Megumi confesses, clearly riding high with the newfound surge to indulge in productivity and right his wrongs. The sweet encouragement from his lover had clearly re-lit the fire in what had once been an empty hearth of his heart. Now the world was at the tips of his fingers, hundreds of possibilities simply waiting to be explored as long as he held the strength to try.
For so long, he had heard the stereotypical phrasing that pain never vanished and one simply learns to live with it instead. Those words, albeit overly cliche and rather cringe, unfortunately seemed to ring true. Of course he would never forget the mistakes made throughout his younger years: his harsh attitude towards Tsumiki, the stubbornness he displayed with Yuuji and all the impatience he directed towards Gojo, maybe after time, Megumi would grow to forgive himself.
Perhaps the newfound excitement for life wouldn’t last long. Maybe it would even begin to wear off by the afternoon and the same crushing wave of guilt would slowly consume him whole. These feelings of hope, of anticipation and aspirations for the future may only be temporary, but they were still a start. They were something . No matter how many times he fell or stumbled, how many times he lapsed back into old habits of laying paralyzed in bed for hours, as long as Yuuji was beside him the tasks felt a little less daunting.
So maybe, just right now, he could pretend that his life was worthwhile. At least until he managed to convince himself that the sentiment was true.
“Whatever you’re up for, Megumi. You know I’ll always be with you.” The knife is dropped from Yuuji’s hands in favor of lacing their fingers to squeeze them together lovingly. “I’m only one step behind you. Always.”
For the first time in months, Megumi’s chest felt lighter while he nodded firmly in agreement and lazily let his finger stroke the back of Yuuji’s hand.
“Yeah. I’m always with you too.”