Chapter Text
Yuji can feel it. Megumi, slowly fading away. Falling out of his fingers… it's painful. He hates it.
It was a disgusting change. They’d talk for hours, chatting and giggling, spending all night awake together. It’s like they could talk about anything, their conversation flowing seamlessly and with ease. It was easy, it was comfortable, and it was everything.
Yuji doesn’t even know what happened.
It happened so quietly. It was slow and gradual. Of course he noticed, but he assumed it would pass. Megumi has a lot going on! Yuji knew he could withdraw at times.
But it never passed. It just got worse and worse.
It’s a painful, uneasy silence, unlike the comfortable silence that used to always accompany them. It churns and twists in his stomach.
Yuji tries. He tries to fill the silence with small talk, jokes, anything to get any reaction out of Megumi, anything in response. He pokes, he prods, and he gets the bare minimum. A nod, a hum. An expressionless glance.
Effortless conversations that came as easily as breathing became heavy and slow.
Hours spent talking to each other turned into minutes, and the minutes started to hurt. Yuji felt like he was pulling teeth trying to have even a simple conversation.
Yuji learns to not reach so hard. It’s fine. Megumi doesn’t owe him a thing, so why was he so upset?
He starts to pull back a little. It hurts less if he detaches himself. The ache dulls when he cares less.
But one small thing, a few soft words from Megumi, and he’s right back where he started, that detachment snapping back to infatuation. It almost feels purposeful, like Megumi knew exactly when to give a little to keep Yuji running back.
And Yuji does run back. Every single time.
Yuji hates it. He hates how he’s so easy, that his anger can never last. One gentle word, one soft glance, one stupid smile is all it takes to undo everything. He can never feel resentment towards Megumi, and he wishes he could.
He tells himself he’s done with this, with letting it happen, with waiting. He’ll speak up when the time is right, when he’s sure… but it never happens. How could he? How could he ruin things, ruin their few interactions?
It hurts, so, so bad, but he’s still hopelessly in love. His heart would never move on.
He’s a fool. He always waits like a dog. He’s so pathetic that it makes him sick to his stomach.
But of course, Megumi does come back. It’s a pattern, repeating and repeating, and Yuji hates how he’s grown accustomed to it.
Yuji’s throat feels tight, and thousands of words go unspoken.
Why do you keep doing this? What am I to you? Do you even want me?
That soft look, and all the words disappear from his throat. He couldn’t.
— — —
Yuji’s sitting on the floor, leaning back against a leg of his bedframe. Megumi is sitting across from him, cross-legged as he reads a book.
Yuji pretends not to notice how far apart they are. How awkward the silence is. But he doesn’t go to fill it. He doesn’t try when he knows he won’t get anything in return… not anymore.
Megumi breaks it instead, surprisingly. He looks up from his book and clears his throat.
“I’ve been meaning to text you,” he finally says. “I’m sorry. I’ve been really busy with missions and all. I haven’t meant to ignore you.”
Anger bubbles deep within Yuji’s chest. Missions? That never stopped him before. What bullshit.
He quickly stuffs the feeling down, the anger quickly replaced by guilt.
How selfish of him to get angry over this. Megumi is busy, and he really shouldn’t make it about himself.
Yuji quickly laughs. “Ah? No, no, don’t worry about it! I know you’ve been busy.”
Megumi closes his book, placing it to his side as he scoots a few inches closer to Yuji. “Still. You don’t deserve that. You’re my boyfriend, and I should be making time for you.”
“It really isn’t a big deal…” Yuji waves his hand dismissively at Megumi.
Except it is. It is a big deal. The words lay heavily on his tongue, burning and aching to be said. You do this every time. You leave and you come back. You come back and expect me to be waiting for you.
Yuji refrains. He wasn’t about to ruin this rare moment between them.
Instead, he stares down into his lap, picking idly at a thread on his sleeve. “I missed you, though.”
Megumi stares for a while, and Yuji can pick up on the trace of regret in his expression.
“I missed you too,” he responds softly. It’s so soft and so gentle that Yuji wants to jump in his arms and sob and beg Megumi to never leave him ever again. But he doesn’t.
Yuji smiles. “Then it’s okay. There’s no problem.”
Yuji tries to make himself believe that there’s no problem. In the moment, it almost feels like it could be true. And it’s better this way. What if this is the last time Megumi comes back? What if he pushes too hard, confronts him, and he loses Megumi for good?
So, he will stay silent. He’d rather he cherishes these scraps he gets then ruin what little they have for good.
At least, he tells himself that. That he won’t ruin it.
But it doesn’t hold true. It never made him feel better, so he let go.
— — —
It’s days later when Megumi finally graces Yuji with his presence again, and Yuji can’t find it within himself to feel relief. Instead, he feels bitter. He said he would never resent Megumi, but he can feel it building.
He hates himself for it.
Yuji feels like he’s choking, like the pain is writhing within his chest, clawing to get out. It’s this same, stupid pattern, again and again and again. He hates it.
Yuji already feels like a bomb ready to go off, the fuse nearly blown. He feels like a violin string tuned incorrectly, tightened far beyond belief, ready to snap with one small movement.
And that small movement was from Megumi.
“Hey."
It’s casual, light, easy, like there wasn’t a thing wrong in the world. Like Megumi didn’t even realize how long it had been, how it was affecting Yuji so heavily.
Yuji turns to his side where Megumi stood. He tries to push it down. He tries, but he can’t.
“Wow,” Yuji laughs dryly, and it can almost be excused as a joke when he says, “look who remembered I exist.”
Megumi blinks at that, obviously startled. “Uh? What’s that supposed to mean?”
And god, that feels like a knife to Yuji’s heart. That he really has the nerve to act clueless.
Yuji laughs again, and it’s even worse than the first one. “I dunno!” He shrugs. “Just, like. It’s been a while, you know?”
“I told you, Itadori, I’m busy—”
“And I know,” Yuji snaps, his anger falling and crumbling through his poorly constructed veil. He’d apologize, but now that it’s out… might as well say it all. “You’re always busy.”
It’s quiet and uncomfortable and painful, and Megumi’s eyes narrow. “Yuji—”
Yuji cuts him off once more. He’s sick of it.
“No, no, really, it’s fine,” his voice trembles as he waves a hand. “I get it, Fushiguro! I get it! It’s just that… I’m just the thing you do when you’ve got time to kill, isn’t that right?”
“That’s not fair.”
“Fair? Fair?” Yuji laughs bitterly, running his hands down his face in a brief motion. “Fair, Fushiguro? Is it fair when you disappear for days on end, hell, even weeks, just to come back like nothing has changed? Like it doesn’t affect me?”
He takes a shaky breath in.
“Fair, like how I—how you expect that I will always wait for you? Acting like I’m supposed to just sit here, wagging my tail waiting for you to remember that I exist? Like a damn dog, waiting at the door for his owner—”
Megumi flinches at that, and Yuji hurts even worse.
“Fushiguro, I can’t! I can’t keep doing this—this back-and-forth from you! You vanish, and it hurts so bad, and then you come back and speak so softly to me and I forget that I was ever mad at you in the first place! I forget, and I feel guilt, like I’m wrong for being mad at you! I forget, I forget, I forget! I forget, and I get so fucking happy you even looked at me again, like I actually exist to you!”
“Yuji…”
“Don’t!” Yuji’s voice breaks painfully. “Please! Just don’t! You—you’ll say you’re sorry, and I’ll fall for it! I’ll believe that you actually are sorry, that you didn’t mean to, that you’ll come back again! I’ll fall for it just for you to leave again, and I’ll be left wondering what the hell I did to make you leave, what I did wrong this time!”
“Yuji.” Megumi finally cuts in, Yuji’s breaths labored from his outburst. “You… you didn’t do anything wrong. I just need space…”
“And you always need space, Fushiguro,” Yuji turns away, hiding the tears building in his eyes. “I hate it. You need all the space in the world, and of course, I give you that! But I’ve given you so much space that there’s never any space left for me!
Yuji runs his hands through his hair before tugging, the mix of pressure and pain soothing something deep within him.
“I hate this. So bad.” Yuji’s voice is quiet and shaky, hardly even a whisper. Weak. “Really, it hurts. I hate that I can never be angry at you. Not for long, at the very least. I hate that it takes just a mere look from you and I forgive you, I forget it all. I hate that I’m so easy.”
There’s yet another painful silence.
“I didn’t… mean to.” Megumi starts quietly, his voice strained. “Yuji… I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”
Yuji looks off into the distance. Somewhere.
“Yeah,” he says quietly. “I know you didn’t mean to… you never mean to.” His back hits the wall, and he slowly slides down until he’s sitting. “But you do anyway.”
Megumi looks hesitant, like he doesn’t know if he’s supposed to argue, comfort, leave… in the end, he does the latter. He gives Yuji one last regretful look.
“I really am sorry.”
And he leaves.
Yuji doesn’t bother looking up. There’s no point.