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Megumi is sure he’s not suicidal.
Yes, he’s alone in his room clutching his chest and yes he doesn’t even belong in a body that loves him. He doesn’t get excited like he used to and he’s tired all the time. The polluted air of Tokyo seems to weigh him down and he can’t even get up to go for breakfast with his friends.
He’s sad sometimes, so what? That doesn’t make him suicidal.
Besides, he is happy sometimes too. He’s happy when Yuji wraps his arm around his waist, he’s happy when Yuji kisses his temple and tells him he’s pretty, he’s happy when he’s in the kitchen quietly watching Yuji make dinner. He’s happy when Yuji is around, as long as you ignore the lump of guilt in his throat telling him he doesn’t deserve it and the sting of fear in his heart telling him Yuji will leave sooner or later.
Honestly, if one day Yuji wakes up and no longer cares about him, Megumi would just let him leave. He would smile and he would understand it’s really not that hard for someone to lose feelings for someone like him. He wouldn’t beg him to stay, he wouldn’t ask why. He knows why. Megumi is moody and cynical, he’s cold and pushes people away and he killed his own father and hurt so many people. Megumi would leave him too. It’s a wonder why the world still lets him live.
He feels sorry for Yuji sometimes, Yuji with his heart of gold, he probably will never leave him even if he wants to. He is too kind and he cares about Megumi because it is the right thing to do, because Megumu is fragile and Yuji is so good to everyone around him, because Megumi told Yuji he wants him and Yuji is never the type to say no.
Megumi feels a bit bad, he feels like he trapped Yuji in such a tiring relationship because of his own stupid desires. If he is slightly less selfish, he would pack his bags in the middle of the night and leave. Yuji would be hurt and confused for a few days, but he will be okay and ultimately he would lead a better life without someone like Megumi in it. But Megumi is so selfish, and he would rather hold onto something he doesn’t deserve than to not have Yuji to hold him at all.
Megumi stares at the ceiling like it might collapse on him if he waits long enough.
The blanket is warm around his shoulders. It smells like Yuji, and it smells like home. Megumi hates that it makes him feel better. He hates that he even notices it makes him feel better.
Because it’s not fair.
It’s not fair that someone like Yuji has to come home to this — to a boyfriend who can’t smile properly anymore, who barely talks, who flinches when touched too softly because it feels like forgiveness he didn’t earn.
Yuji asks him what he wants for dinner and Megumi lies. He says he’s not hungry when he is. Because he knows Yuji will cook anyway, and he’ll sit beside him, and he’ll pretend like this isn’t hard. Pretend like it isn’t slowly killing him to love someone who is so convinced love is a debt they can never repay.
And that’s what it is, isn’t it? Yuji stays because Megumi asked him to once, like a fucking fool, and Yuji, being who he is, just can’t bring himself to say no.
Megumi thinks, because that seems to be all he can do these days. He thinks if he had kept his mouth shut… if he never admitted how much he wanted him… maybe Yuji would be free by now.
It makes him sick that his love feels more like manipulation than connection. He thinks about all the quiet ways he’s held Yuji closer: falling asleep with a fist curled in his shirt, whispering “don’t go yet” when he woke up in the middle of the night, brushing his fingers against Yuji’s wrist just to make sure he’s still there. How could Yuji ever walk away from that and not feel like the villain?
Megumi’s not stupid. He could tell Yuji is tired. Megumi sees it in his shoulders, in the way he lingers in doorways as if checking Megumi hasn’t disappeared. And Megumi knows Yuji deserves better.
He deserves someone who makes him laugh without trying, who pulls him out of bed with a grin, not someone who clings to him in silence and pretends it’s enough. He deserves light. Joy. A partner who isn’t an emotional black hole.
Megumi lies down, the exhaustion presses down on him harder, not just on his body, but in his soul as well. It feels like gravity is pulling him through the mattress into nothingness, it feels like he’s going to be falling forever.
He closes his eyes and just begs his head to let him fall asleep, but he never did. Instead he keeps falling, and his bed disappears, his room disappears.
Megumi woke with a start, his hand gripping the edge of the school locker like it might dissolve. The entrance of the school hummed softly, sunlight spilling in through the doors, casting a warm glow over everything. He blinked, confused.
He wasn’t in his old apartment, wasn’t clutching a blanket soaked in Yuji’s scent. Instead, he was changing his shoes and placing his sports equipment into his locker, wearing a neatly pressed school uniform he didn’t remember putting on. It’s the same school Tsumiki went to, before it all went to shit.
A boy with tousled pink hair and bright, lively eyes spotted him immediately and grinned. “Megumi! You’re here! I was starting to wonder if you’d skip homeroom today.”
Megumi’s throat tightened. “I’m here,” he replied, voice low, trying not to let the strange flutter in his chest show. He glanced up into the inner side of his locker and noticed a small photo taped to the corner: Gojo and Tsumiki, laughing without a care in the world, and so, so alive.
The bell rang, and they rushed their way to their lesson. Megumi found his gaze drifting to the boy beside him. Golden-eyed Yuji, laughing with his friends, he sounds so light and genuine. He caught Megumi watching and nudged him gently.
“Hey, you okay? You’re awfully quiet today,” Yuji asked, voice soft but full of warmth.
Megumi forced a shrug. “Just tired,” he lied.
Yuji didn’t press, just smiled and nudged his shoulder again. “Come on, eat with me for lunch. You don’t eat enough.”
Megumi couldn’t help the tiny smile that tugged at his lips. It felt strange and unfamiliar, like a fragile light flickering to life inside him. He’s studying in a school he hasn’t set foot in since his mission during his first year. There is no cursed energy in this world and Yuji’s face does not have a single scar on it. It feels so good, almost too perfect, but at the same time it’s like nothing is different at all. Yuji is still shining with the golden energy, spreading the kind of love Megumi never knew could exist.
Yuji loves with the purest, loveliest, most tender kind of love one would only know as a child.
But something is wrong. Because if this world is so perfect, Megumi wouldn’t be in it. If this world is perfect, Megumi wouldn’t have crash landed in Yuji’s life, ruining every little thing as they go on.
Lunch was held in the bustling school courtyard. Yuji plopped down beside Megumi, pulling out a bento box full of bright, colorful food he no doubt made himself.
“You have to eat, Megumi. I packed extra in case you forgot yours,” Yuji said, opening the box and offering him a rice ball.
Megumi hesitated. Why? His brain seems to ask. Why are you kind to me? Why do you love me? Why are you still here? I’m horrible and I’m rotten and I’m cruel. Why haven’t you left me yet? Why would you do that to yourself? Leave, Yuji, leave me before I corrupt your beautiful light as well. Save yourself.
Megumi accepted the rice ball instead. “Thanks.”
Yuji grinned. “So, what do you want to do after school? Maybe we could hang out?”
Megumi blinked, caught off guard. “Hang out?”
See, when you’ve grown up with everyone constantly leaving, you soon start to accept that maybe it’s your fault. Your fault that nobody stays, your fault that you are more fluent in goodbyes than your mother tongue. Megumi doesn’t understand why Yuji would want to spend time with him, especially when there are so many better people in this god forsaken school to choose from.
But Yuji just nodded, eyes shining. “Yeah! We could go get some ramen, or just walk around. It’s a nice day.”
Megumi felt the familiar lump of guilt and doubt rise in his throat “Sure,” he said quietly.
Yuji never fails to amaze Megumi, he stops him in his tracks and rewrites everything he believes in with something as simple as a smile, and Megumi caves.
Megumi always caves, caves into Yuji’s requests and Yuji’s laugh, despite strongly believing that love is something he’s better off looking at vicariously. Truth to be told, Megumi is a romantic, even though he’ll never admit that out loud, but it never occurred to him that romance is something he could even dream of touching with a ten foot pole. It only happens to other people, he thought, like winning the lottery or getting into a car crash, however you want to look at it.
Because there are people who hold love like delicate flowers instead of mad dogs from hell who would mutilate you because it’s hungry, and you’re too broke to buy him food. Yuji touches him and Megumi has to hold himself back from flinching, it’s not his fault really, it’s a knee jerk reaction at this point. Megumi barely knows how to swallow love.
The afternoon passed slowly, the sun dipping low and painting the sky in soft pinks and oranges. And Yuji walked Megumi home, chatting easily about school clubs and silly rumors.
Megumi walked beside him, his mind spinning. Everything felt so normal. So light. There are no wars, no curses, no deaths, and Megumi doesn’t know why he’s here, but the selfish part of him wants to stay.
They stopped outside Megumi’s apartment building. Yuji smiled, brushing a stray lock of hair from his forehead. “Thanks for spending the day with me.”
Megumi’s heart squeezed painfully. “Thank you for... asking.”
Yuji reached out, briefly squeezing Megumi’s hand. “Anytime. Say hi to Gojo for me.”
Megumi grunted and stepped inside, the warmth of the hallway wrapping around him. As the door shut behind him, a sudden dizziness swept over him.
His vision blurred, the walls around him melting away. The scent of the hallway vanished, replaced by the cold silence of an unknown place.
And then, he was falling again.
Megumi wakes to the sound of bells. Not alarm bells, not sirens or screams, just the soft, distant chime of metal on wind.
He blinks against the light, eyes stinging. The bed he’s sinking into feels too soft, the ceiling above him unusually ornate and high-vaulted. It takes a moment for the silken sheets to register, for the scent of lavender and sun-warmed linen to ground him in a world that is not his.
He's in a room meant for someone delicate. Someone important. Someone else.
A knock at the door. “Good morning,” says a voice, chipper and low, muffled through the heavy wood. “Are you awake yet?”
Megumi doesn’t respond, but the door creaks open anyway. Yuji steps in, dressed in something absurdly royal, gold embroidery at the cuffs, a sash of deep crimson slung across his chest like he was born wearing responsibility. He looks like a painting. Untouchable and beautiful.
But Yuji grins like nothing is wrong, like he’s seen Megumi in ten thousand beds across ten thousand lifetimes, and this is just a regular morning.
“You slept in,” he says, like it's something that makes him fond, like he’s someone to be proud of.
Megumi sits up slowly, the silk pooling around his waist. “Where... am I?”
Yuji tilts his head, not cruel, just curious. “The palace?” He laughs softly. “It’s okay. You always get confused after a nightmare.”
Megumi’s throat tightens. He glances down at his hands, finding them clean. No blood. No dirt. Not even scars. Just trembling.
Yuji walks to the windows and throws them open, allowing sunlight to flood the room. “Breakfast is in the west gardens today if you’re feeling up for it.”
Megumi learns quickly that he’s not a prisoner here, but he’s not royalty either. There are rumors he was found on the battlefield with no memory, a soldier maybe, or a mage. Some say he saved the prince’s life, others say he cursed it.
Yuji calls him a blessing, Megumi wonders if he is allowed to believe it.
He tries to stay out of the way. Helping the cooks prepare vegetables and fold linens with the servants, walking aimlessly through the orchard where the guards nod politely and don’t question him.
But Yuji keeps finding him.
He finds him when it rains and pulls him under a balcony to stay dry. He finds him in the stables and brushes down the horses with him without saying a word. He finds him in the library and asks for his opinion on books he clearly doesn’t understand.
Megumi tells himself it's a coincidence. It has to be. Yuji is a prince, he’s kind to everyone, it’s not like it makes him special at all.
That night, Megumi stands on a balcony overlooking the city. The moonlight paints the marble pale silver, and somewhere below, the festival drums are starting. He should be down there. Disappearing into the crowd. Losing himself.
But Yuji appears again, barefoot and in a loose shirt, carrying two pieces of honey-drenched bread wrapped in cloth.
“Thought you’d skip the feast,” he says, handing one over.
Megumi takes it without thinking. “You didn’t have to come.”
“I didn’t,” Yuji agrees. He leans against the railing beside him. “But I wanted to.”
Megumi didn't answer, but his breath hitched, and his eyes widened like something clicked, he’s not sure what, but something did. They watch the city lights flicker in silence.
Then Yuji says, like he’s commenting on the weather, “You know, you don’t have to keep looking over your shoulder.”
Megumi frowns. “What?”
“You keep waiting for me to leave,” Yuji says, turning to him. “Like one day I’ll wake up and realize I’ve made a mistake.”
Megumi’s chest goes tight.
Yuji doesn’t sound accusing. He sounds... sad. Like someone who’s been trying to give, but keeps getting turned away at the door.
Megumi could almost hear his voice, not prince Yuji’s voice, his Yuji’s. His Yuji that always seems gentle and bright despite all the hell the world put him through.
“I’m not here out of duty,” he says gently. “I’m here because I like you.”
Megumi looks away. “You shouldn’t.”
“Who said that,” Yuji replies, and shrugs. “I do. And I’d like to keep liking you.”
Megumi opened his mouth, but he is falling again.
The world around him had dissolved, just like it always did in those moments where his mind felt like it was slipping into another space, somewhere far far away. The world blurred together, becoming a fading hum in the back of his mind.
And then, there was a sudden snap, as though something inside him caught on a thread. He blinked, the cool spray of the ocean hitting his face bringing him back. The wind howled across the open water, the creaking of the ship’s wooden bones mingling with the sound of waves crashing against the hull.
Megumi stood there at the bow, his fingers still gripping the rail as if he had been there all along. Yuji’s voice broke through the fog with that easy concern that Megumi had never quite known how to answer. “You alright?”
A pirate ship, the roaring sea, the wind... it all felt like it was spinning just around the edges of his consciousness. But Yuji was steady, always steady. A solid anchor in a world that could only pull him down, amidst the vast expanse of the sea, Yuji’s light shone like a beacon in the darkness.
“You’re brooding again.” Yuji’s voice was warm, as ever, laced with that annoying, unshakable optimism.
Megumi didn’t answer. He never did. It didn’t matter. Yuji always knew what to say anyway. It doesn’t matter which universe they’re in, he always saw through Megumi’s silence.
Megumi knew in his heart Yuji wasn’t supposed to be here. He didn’t belong among the blood-soaked crew of a pirate ship, not with that damn smile and those eyes full of light.
Yuji leaned beside him, one hand gripping the rail as the ship rocked beneath them. “I brought you something,” he said, pulling out a small flask, its contents sloshing inside. He offered it to Megumi, eyes flicking to his face. “Rum. Might loosen you up.”
“I don’t drink,” Megumi muttered, his voice as cold as the sea breeze.
“I know,” Yuji said with a shrug, not bothered in the slightest. “But I thought you might want to try. You know, for a change.”
Megumi’s fingers curled around the edge of the railing, his knuckles white, and he tried not to wonder about what bloodshed he had caused. How many lives had he taken? How many ships had he sunk, families torn apart? Is he the same in this universe? Can he not escape being a murderer?
“Why do you always stay?” Megumi finally asked, voice low. The question had been gnawing at him for days, weeks, maybe even longer. It doesn’t matter what world he is in, Yuji always stays. No matter how many times Megumi tried to push him away, no matter how many times he scowled or turned his back. Yuji stayed.
Yuji was silent for a long moment, long enough that Megumi thought maybe he wouldn’t answer. But then, Yuji spoke, his voice as soft as the wind that tangled in Megumi’s hair.
“You’re not the only one on this ship who’s lost something,” Yuji said. “I’ve lost plenty too. I’ve killed people too. I have just as many regrets as you do. I’m not going to pretend I can fix you, Megumi. I don’t have all the answers. But I know one thing: I’m not leaving. I don’t want to leave. You make me happy, you might think you’re cold and cynical but all I see is a boy who fought to survive and I think he’s beautiful. I’m staying for no other reason but because I want to.”
Megumi turned then, just enough to catch the expression on Yuji’s face, something so full of warmth, so alive and so full of love it made his heart ache in a way he couldn’t explain. Yuji’s golden eyes, as bright and untamed as the ocean itself, were fixed on him with a gentleness that felt impossible in this harsh world.
Yuji held out his hand, his fingers curling in an invitation Megumi wasn’t sure he deserved. “I don’t need anything from you. There’s no condition for me to stay, so stop treating me like someone who will leave once I find no use for you.”
The words landed like a blow to the chest. This is wrong, this is all wrong, it couldn’t possibly be so simple. Megumi can’t be loved just because.
“I don’t belong here,” Megumi muttered, stubborn. “I don’t deserve this.”
Yuji didn’t flinch, didn’t look away, instead he stepped closer, his hand still outstretched. “You don’t have to deserve it, Megumi. I choose you. I chose to stay. I chose to love you. You don’t need to do anything to deserve my love, you just have to accept it.”
There’s a truth: Megumi can’t be fixed, yet somehow Yuji is okay with that. Megumi grew up leaving teeth and claw marks over everything he loved, fought everything that ever came close to him, yet Yuji found him beautiful. Megumi has gunmetal bones and a wolf’s claws and yet Yuji decided that the fact that he exists is good enough for him.
Yuji never tried to fix Megumi, he simply stays next to him, and shows him the kind of gentleness the boy who grew up with Atlas’ weight on his shoulders never knew. He holds his hand out for him to hold and tries to earn his trust like one would with a skittish alley cat. In a world of Achilles and Icarus and Hercules, Yuji allowed Megumi to just be a boy who longs to be held after a hard day.
Yuji couldn’t fix Megumi and he doesn’t want to. Being his home is enough.
The silence between them stretched out, the sea roaring in the background. But in this moment, with Yuji’s hand still hovering just inches away, Megumi knew, finally, that nothing was his fault. He wasn’t broken beyond repair, and it wasn’t up to anyone to fix anything. All Yuji wanted was to stay beside him.
Megumi reached out, and he’s falling again.
Megumi wakes up with a gasp, his head spinning. The fog of sleep lifts, and with it, a strange new clarity settles in his chest. He’s not sure how long he’s been out, but there’s a quiet certainty now, something that wasn’t there before. His fingers flex against the softness of the sheets, and for the first time in a long while, he feels... safe. He feels real.
The apartment is quiet, save for the faint hum of the city outside. The scent of Yuji’s cologne lingers in the air, the same comforting, familiar scent that wraps around him every time they’re together. He’s back. He’s back in his universe.
He stumbles out of bed, still disoriented, but something in him pulls him toward the door. The weight on his chest feels lighter, and the guilt that usually clings to him like a second skin is further away. His body feels like it remembers Yuji’s love, like every breath is a reminder that he’s not just living for himself anymore. He’s living for both of them.
The door creaks open, and Megumi steps into the dimly lit hallway. The warm glow of a lamp flickers in the living room. And there he is, Yuji, sprawled on the couch, one leg hanging off the side. His bright eyes flick up when Megumi enters, the soft curve of his smile greeting him like a sunrise.
“You’re awake?” Yuji’s voice is gentle, as if he’s been waiting for this moment for ages.
Megumi just nods, his throat tight with a million things he wants to say but can’t. Instead, he steps into the room, his feet quiet against the floorboards. Yuji just watches him, like Megumi is the only thing in the world worth looking at.
Yuji’s here. He’s always here.
Yuji sits up slowly, the movement so natural, so effortless, like he’s been waiting for Megumi his entire life. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t push Megumi to open up. He just looks at him, the kind of gaze that feels like it’s holding all of Megumi’s fragile pieces together.
Megumi stands there, his hand brushing against the edge of the couch, but it’s not just the contact he’s reaching for. It’s the space beside Yuji. The place where he knows he’s wanted, where he belongs.
Yuji pats the space next to him, his grin still soft, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Come here. I don’t bite, promise. Well I do sometimes, but now is not the time.”
A laugh bubbles up in Megumi’s chest, but it dies in his throat. Instead, he finally moves, sinking beside Yuji. The world feels still, like this moment is suspended in time, both of them sitting in the same space, sharing the same air.
And when Yuji rests his head on Megumi’s shoulder, everything clicks into place. The soft warmth of his skin against Megumi’s is like coming home after a long, endless journey. Megumi swallows, his heart heavy with the kind of warmth that might shatter him if he lets it.
“Do you believe in fate?” Megumi asks suddenly, his voice quieter than usual, like he’s afraid of the answer.
Yuji looks up at him, his eyes a little softer, more thoughtful. He takes a deep breath, considering the question.
“I don’t know,” Yuji says, “I think some things happen because of fate, yeah. Like... meeting you, for example. But, I don’t think fate’s in charge of everything. I think what matters is the choices we make. I could’ve chosen not to eat the finger. I could’ve chosen not to fight. I could’ve let myself die. I could’ve walked away from you a hundred times. But I didn’t.”
“But... why?” Megumi’s heart clenches, his breath catching in his chest, the question burning his throat for months now. “ I’m not easy, Yuji. I’m not a good person.”
“I know. But that’s not why I love you. I love you because you’re you. Not because you’re perfect or because I have to. I choose to love you, Megumi. Every day. Every hour. I don’t have to love you, but I do.”
A knot forms in Megumi’s throat, and he feels the weight of everything he’s been carrying these past years. The guilt. The fear. The doubt.
Loving Megumi isn’t a chore. It’s a choice. And it’s a choice that Yuji makes over and over again, without hesitation, without complaint.
Megumi leans in, his lips pressing softly to Yuji’s forehead, an answer in that simple gesture. And in the quiet of their room, with Yuji’s heartbeat steady beside him, Megumi knows one thing for sure.
In every universe, it feels like fate has a hand in bringing Yuji and Megumi together. A group project, a chance encounter, a wrong turn, all these seemingly insignificant moments are the dominoes that lead them to each other. There’s a force, maybe not quite fate, but something that keeps pushing them closer, again and again, across every path they walk.
But loving Megumi? That’s a choice. Every day, every hour, Yuji chooses to love Megumi. No one forces him. No one makes him feel obligated. Megumi is hard work, they both know it, he is cold, reserved, cynical, he doesn’t believe it when someone says they love him. But still, Yuji loves him. Not because it’s expected or easy, but because he wants to.
Loving Megumi is like baking cookies. It’s messy. It takes time and patience. Sometimes the dough falls apart, sometimes the kitchen’s a disaster. But it’s fun and the sweetness of the end result that makes it worth all the effort. Besides, Yuji’s always got a sweet tooth. He chooses to love Megumi because, in the end, it’s the thing that fills him up in the most unexpected way.
Megumi knows now why Yuji would never complain about being with him. There’s nothing else Yuji wants more. Even if fate played its part, it’s Yuji’s hands that shaped their love.
Fate might have set them on the same path, but it’s Yuji who made it real.