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The morning sun streams through the blinds, casting a warm glow across your skin and illuminating the room in a soft, ethereal glow. You curl deeper into the blankets, encompassing yourself in a cozy cocoon of warmth.
Something is amiss.
Your hand stretches out to brush over the other side of the mattress. A faint warmth lingers, confirming he hasn’t been out of bed long. You peel an eye open, blinking bleary to rid the lingering haze of sleep.
The blanket pools around you as you move to sit up. The soft clinking of utensils and the gentle sizzle reach your ears from the crack in the doorway. You stand and watch him for a moment, your boyfriend. The soft muscles of his pale back subtly shift with the slightest movements of his arms. The irresistible aroma of eggs and spices wafts toward you, teasing your nose. His jet-black hair is its usual glorious mess, spiking out like a sea urchin, as if he wrestled with your shared bed and suffered utter defeat. The morning light shines in through the open windows, making him look as if he’s glowing—a haze around his silhouette. What a truly pretty man your boyfriend was.
His head cocks to the side slightly when your bare feet pad across the floor towards him. Your arms wrap around him before he can turn around, your hands sprawling against the firm abs of his stomach.
He lets out a grumble—a sound deep from his throat—as his way of saying a good morning. You hum in response. No words are needed in your exchange.
You peek around his frame to see him dimming the stove’s flame. He gently pats your hands before intertwining them with his. There’s no music, but you sway side-to-side, half your brain still comfortably in bed. Your lips press against his upper back, thanking him for the breakfast you’re about to share. It’s then followed by a little nibble, expressing your desire to spend some time in bed before the day officially starts. He hums in response, shifting his shoulders in acknowledgment.
Breakfast is a fluffy omelette for each of you. The fragrant smell of mixed herbs and the various ingredients folded into the eggs fills your entire kitchen. The smell glides through your nose as he carefully places a plate in front of you. Your silence is shared throughout this tranquil morning, content with soft hums and actions being your sole means of communication.
He takes the empty plates as you move, giving you a perfectly deadpan stare before it’s followed by the faintest, almost imperceptible, of smiles. The huff you give him causes said smile to widen just the slightest bit more. The sounds that fill the apartment are dishes clanking softly, water running, birds outside singing their sweet songs, and the distant noises of a city awakening.
He had wanted to buy a home in the countryside, a quieter life, using the money Gojo left him before…But, nevertheless, was easily convinced when you mentioned being close to Jujutsu High. His response was a resigned grumble in agreement, forever weak to all your needs and demands.
Your feet lead you back to your bedroom, stifling a smile at your beautifully messy bed. The blanket is halfway across the room, reaching out to the doorway, towards the owners who have abandoned it. You a moment to set your bed, tidying the pillows that have migrated their way to opposite corners of the bed, plumping them up. You then assemble the stuffed plushies collected over the span of your relationship, arranging them like a cozy family. You let out a tiny yelp, feeling a furry head nudge your elbow. You immediately sense a familiar presence behind you, turning your head to see the culprit’s mouth twitch at your startled reaction. With a fond sigh, you lean down to pet the black Divine Dog, Kuro (yes this is real becasue kuro means black hshs). It let out a soft gruff of content, licking your hand. You coo softly at it, ruffling its dark fur, a striking resemblance to its summoner. The dog barks happily, then strolls over to Megumi and placing its front paws on his chest, licking his face with affection.
Megumi smiles, one of the rare ones of genuine warmth he has when caught off guard. You admire him for another moment longer. The way he laughs quietly, robbed of the carefree sound his childhood never allowed him to have. His hair bounces lightly, and he’s truly comparable to a porcupine right now. You realize he’s looking at you with a look that asks unspoken questions, a concern for your well-being.
You shake your head with a smile, brushing it off. Instead, you approach your closet, looking for something to wear.
Strong arms wrap around you, guiding you to rest your back against his chest, and a soft tail tickles your thigh. He reaches forward to take the hanger out of your hand. You turn your head to press a soft kiss to his cheek as he hums, a low and pleased sound. He carefully helps you get dressed, meticulously, showing his care in the same tender way Tsumiki used to. All those cherished moments when she helped zip up or button his jackets during grade school. Even in his fiercely independent teenage phase, he let her adjust his collar or straighten his tie with a fussy face that would bloom into a smile when she was finally satisfied.
What he would give to live with her again—No. He’s content with you. His sister’s memory will never be forgotten, but she’s a good person. She wouldn’t want him to feel grief over her memory and would likely scold him if she saw a frown from him because of her.
You return the favor, and Megumi feels a surge of emotion as a lump in his throat as you straighten his collar. When you’re satisfied, you smile brightly and move to kiss the faded scars on his face. He gives you a soft look, one he rarely shares with just anyone. It’s a look reserved for when Itadori and Kugisaki bicker playfully over dinner, for when Gojo would comply with his requests with a wide grin, for when you stare at him like he’s worthy of love after all this time. He’s sure if it were any of his friends, they’d tease him mercilessly for having the same tender look toward you.
He’d do anything to keep living this mundane, simple life with you. He could imagine living out his days doing laundry and taxes, and cooking meals with you until the end. You’d tell him how much you love him and for once, he’ll let himself believe he is a good enough person to deserve it. Because he’ll do anything to work towards being a person deserving of your love.