Work Text:
A bright flash of light illuminated the room for a fraction of a second, disrupting Gojo's peaceful tranquility as he lounged in bed. Cracking his eyes open, he glanced toward the window with disdain just as the rumble of thunder shook the apartment, the window rattling in protest. While the weather stations had called for a torrent of rain that week, there had been no mention of possible thunderstorms.
It wasn't like Gojo was afraid of thunderstorms—nothing scared him—but the constant flashes and rumbling kept him awake at night—especially that damn rumbling. The walls of that old apartment were thin, adding to the intensity with which they'd shake at every loud clap of thunder. It kept him in a constant state of alert, waiting for something darker than Mother Nature to come crashing into the apartment.
So much for a good night's sleep, Gojo thought bitterly as he dragged himself out of bed.
As he made it to the kitchen, another strike of lightning lit up the night sky, the roar of thunder following right on its heels. Gojo tried his hardest to ignore it as he rifled through the fridge, pulling out a carton of leftover udon noodles. Snatching a set of chopsticks from the cutlery drawer, Gojo didn't even bother heating them as he dug in.
Leaning back against the counter, Gojo relished the moments in between the thunder when the rhythmic drumming of rain against the roof was the only noise resonating through the apartment. An especially loud clap of thunder had him worried for a second that the apartment might shake apart. Thankfully, it didn't, and Gojo allowed himself to relax.
That is, until he heard the faint creak of a door opening down the hall. Perking up, Gojo listened as light footsteps made their way further down the hall, the tell-tale click of a door closing coming shortly after. It was just one of the kids going to the bathroom.
Unlike Gojo, both of the Fushiguro siblings seemed unbothered when it came to thunderstorms. Tsumiki loved to pull up a chair and watch the lightning as it streaked through the sky. She'd often become so infatuated that Gojo had no choice but to bribe her into going to bed. Megumi, on the other hand—well, Gojo didn't actually know how he felt. Try as he might, that kid refused to open up to him, and—now that he thought about it—Megumi always locked himself in his room during thunderstorms. Gojo never gave it much thought, as Megumi often went to his room when he wanted privacy.
Taking another bite of noodles, Gojo glanced at the clock hanging above the kitchen entranceway. He didn't know how much time had passed, but something felt wrong. He kept an eye on the time as he finished his noodles. Four minutes passed, and during that time the storm worsened as several lightning strikes occurred in quick succession. Through the rumbling thunder, Gojo listened intently for any sound coming from his kid. There was nothing; no doors opening or closing, nor toilet flushing.
Something was seriously wrong. Tossing the empty noodle container in the sink, Gojo quickly walked down the hall, instantly noting that Megumi's door was wide open. Only, so was the bathroom door. Rushing to Megumi's room, Gojo didn't hesitate to flick on the light, praying that Megumi simply forgot to close the door. His eyes widened as he took in the empty bed, blood pounding in his ears as he darted back out of the room. Where the hell was his kid?
Back in the hall, Gojo froze as he finally noticed a critical detail he'd missed. His bedroom door was shut despite having left it open when he left. Megumi hadn't gone to the bathroom; he'd gone to Gojo's room. While he was relieved to know his kid hadn't disappeared on him, it left him with more questions. Like what in the world would Megumi be doing in his room at this hour?
Feet frozen to the spot, Gojo stood there, unsure of how he should go about this. Before he made himself at home in the Fushiguro apartment, that room had belonged to Toji Fushiguro. Despite having very few memories of his father—the room practically barren when Gojo took it over—Megumi avoided the room entirely as if entering it would cause him pain. For him to have gone into the room now…something was very wrong.
With newfound determination, Gojo walked to his room and slowly opened the door so as not to startle Megumi. It took him a few seconds to finally spot the kid, or, well, where the kid was hiding. Megumi was hiding underneath his blanket, only the tips of his hair sticking out. Stepping into the room, Gojo opened his mouth to speak—to ask what was wrong—when another flash of lightning made him pause.
As the resounding thunder shook the apartment, Gojo saw Megumi flinch before the kid curled further into himself, the blanket pulled tighter around him. Megumi was…afraid of the thunder? The sudden revelation was jarring, especially as it dawned on Gojo that the signs had always been there. Every time Megumi hid in his room during a thunderstorm, he was trying to hide the fact that he was scared. Worst of all, Gojo just let him without a second thought, assuming that a kid as mature as him couldn't possibly be afraid of something so ordinary like thunder.
Gojo forgot that Megumi wasn't like him—that he shouldn't have to be like him. Megumi was still just a child.
Tentatively, Gojo stepped up to the bed and slowly pulled the covers back. Megumi had his back to Gojo and quickly hid his face in the stuffed wolf he was clutching against his chest. Although he tried to hide it, Gojo saw the trail of tears running down the poor kid's face. When another round of thunder boomed, Megumi squeezed the plush so hard that Gojo worried its head might pop off.
"Megumi." Sitting on the edge of the bed, Gojo reached over and ruffled Megumi's hair, smiling faintly when he loosened his death grip on the poor wolf. "It's okay, kiddo. As scary as it sounds, the thunder can't hurt you. There's no need to be afraid."
"I'm not afraid," Megumi argued, his voice muffled by the plushie. A sharp inhale followed as Megumi tried to hide the fact that he was crying. "I can't be afraid."
Gojo frowned as he asked, "Now, why would you think something like that?"
"'Cause I'm supposed to be strong and fight curses, like you. You're not afraid of anything," Megumi's voice cracked as he spoke. "So I can't be afraid either."
It felt like a sucker punch to the chest. Gojo was no saint, and while Toji might have clued him in to Megumi's existence, Gojo had his own selfish reasons for intervening in the sale of Megumi to the Zenin Clan. Being the inheritor of the Ten Shadows Technique, Megumi had so much potential. He was a sorcerer Gojo could train from scratch and mold into what he wanted. Only, as he grew more attached to Megumi, things changed. While Gojo still saw a powerful sorcerer when he looked at Megumi, he also saw a kid—his kid—who he'd do anything to protect.
When another flash of lightning caught his eye, Gojo ran his fingers through Megumi's hair. The rumbling thunder came later than expected and was quieter, the windows barely rattling. Still, Megumi remained curled around his plush wolf.
"You know—" Gojo started, lowering his voice into a whisper as he leaned closer to Megumi—"even I get scared sometimes."
Finally, Megumi turned his head to peek at Gojo, his eyes red and puffy. "You're lying."
"You think so?" Gojo asked, unable to stop himself from smiling as Megumi leveled him with a glare that fell horrendously flat. "Well, I'll have you know that you gave me quite the scare tonight. When I saw you weren't in your room, I was afraid something bad might have happened to you. I don't think I've ever been so scared in my life."
"That's a stupid reason to be scared," Megumi grumbled, turning back to hide his face again. However, he couldn't hide the way his ear tips turned red.
Gojo resisted the urge to poke fun at him. As much as he enjoyed riling Megumi up, Gojo knew if he did, he would ruin any chance of Megumi seeking him out the next time something scared him. Megumi needed that assurance that Gojo wouldn't just laugh at his worries, not when it was serious enough for Megumi to reach out in the first place.
Instead, Gojo hummed in agreement as he continued to card his fingers through Megumi's hair. For once, Megumi didn't smack his hand away. A few minutes passed in comfortable silence, the only noise the rain drumming overhead. The worst of the storm had passed. It was about time Gojo got the kid back to bed.
"Megumi." Gojo waited, his fingers stilling when he got no reply. "Hey, Megumi?"
Leaning over to get a better look, Gojo's heart swelled when he saw that Megumi had fallen asleep. Afraid of waking him up, Gojo decided to let Megumi stay the night in his room and carefully tucked him in. When he was certain it was okay to leave Megumi alone, Gojo dragged himself out to the living room and settled down on the couch for the night. Come morning, neither would talk about that night.
- - -
After hearing the forecast for the day, Gojo canceled all his lessons and retreated to his room, making it clear that no one was to disturb him. Given the seriousness in his tone, no one questioned him and—if they were smart—would heed his warning. Drawing the curtains closed, Gojo plucked a random book from the small collection he'd grown over the years. He never read a single one, yet they came in handy during days like this.
The curtains blocked out any light from outside but did nothing to stop the rumbling of thunder as it vibrated through the walls. Although the shaking wasn't as dramatic—Jujutsu High's buildings fully up to code—Gojo knew it was only a matter of time. He'd give it about five minutes.
Gojo took off his blindfold and put it aside before slipping on his circular shades with practiced ease. Settling back against the headboard, Gojo made himself comfortable on the outer side of his bed and flipped open the book to a random page. He briefly scanned over the text before promptly giving up trying to figure out what the book was about.
Five minutes passed—the frequency and intensity of the thunder steadily rising—when Gojo heard the soft click as his door was opened and closed. Glancing up, Gojo smiled warmly at Megumi, the teen standing awkwardly by the door. Gojo nodded toward the empty side of the bed, a silent invitation. Megumi walked over and—without a word—seamlessly climbed over Gojo to lie beside him on the bed, his back turned to him.
His smile growing, Gojo reached down and ran his fingers through Megumi's hair, offering him some comfort as another round of thunder roared, shaking the window. Grabbing one of Gojo's spare pillows, Megumi hugged it tight to his chest and buried his face in the soft fabric. Gojo took his cue to 'resume reading his book', giving his kid some semblance of privacy.
The storm would only get worse from then on, one of the worst they've had in years. Gojo had no intention of leaving that room anytime soon. He'd made a promise to himself that first night that no matter what, his bedroom would always be a safe space for Megumi when he needed it. A space devoid of judgment, where Megumi didn't have to fear anything but the thunder.