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It was cold out.
Snow dusted the deserted playground, illuminating the metal bars in the moonlight. Empty wine bottles lay discarded near the monkey bars, a canvas bag haphazardly draped over them. It had been Fushiguro's idea to hide them, overly cautious as always.
Not that anyone would come here, especially at this time of night. The playground was on the outskirts of campus, abandoned well before curses took over. Rusted old signs were posted at the entrance, sporting the name of a school that was nowhere to be found.
The three of them had discovered it months ago, on their way back from a mission. It was strange, how empty it was. Not just because it lacked children, whose absence was haunting in and of itself. The playground also lacked curses.
We should go there sometime, Itadori had remarked, somewhat drawn to the paradox of the rusted old playground. Kugisaki had teased him for wanting to play around like snotty little kids, but had saved the location on her phone.
'Sometime,' was apparently now, at midnight, in the middle of the week.
It had been a spur-of-the-moment decision. Kugisaki had barged into their rooms with two bottles of wine she'd nabbed from the clinic and a mischievous glint in her eye.
A part of Yuuji was hesitant. It was probably a bad idea, since they were still underage. But then again, he'd always wanted to try drinking, anyway, and these were the two people he trusted most in the world.
And if it helped him avoid another night filled with nightmares of decimated buildings and cruel smiles, it was worth a shot.
Fushiguro said yes, too. That took him by surprise; Yuuji never thought the stoic boy would be a rule breaker, but he supposed that in a past life, Fushiguro had been a delinquent. Even now, he was still full of surprises.
Wine was gross. But despite the bitter taste, Yuuji found that he liked the dull thrum of the alcohol in his system. He liked the way it loosened the thoughts in his head, pushing away the ghosts that haunted his memories.
It was nice.
After a glass too many, the three of them had drunkenly decided to make the trek to the playground. Kugisaki had charged ahead, diligently following the directions on her phone, while Yuuji and Fushiguro stumbled behind, holding onto each other for support. Yuuji didn't really need it, but he couldn’t help but selfishly lean into the casual touch, addicted to the warmth of the boy next to him.
As soon as they arrived, Kugisaki called dibs on the slide.
The three of them had laughed and played and run around the empty park until their cheeks hurt and their bottles were empty. They tumbled down the slides, fell off the monkey bars one too many times, and challenged each other to rock climbing contests that made no sense, given the wall was barely taller than Fushiguro.
It was nostalgic, acting like kids again. After all that had happened in the past year, Yuuji missed it. That carefree feeling. It reminded him of afternoons spent at the occult club: making fun of the principal, watching terrible horror movies, consoling his team members when they screamed at a moving curtain. It was a time so far away, back when his biggest worry was how to get home without the track coach spotting him.
How had everything changed so fast?
Yuuji thought back to the battles that left him scarred, that had led to destruction. Shibuya. Shinjuku.
Being a child is not a sin.
Yuuji couldn't help but revel in the simplicity of it all.
This was what it’s supposed to be like. This is what you wanted to protect. Right, Nanamin?
After a particularly violent spin on the merry-go-round (which might have been Yuuji's fault, the alcohol had severely impaired his perception of his own strength), Kugisaki had thrown up into a nearby bush and promptly passed out on a bench.
Which left him and Fushiguro.
They had settled on the swing set, both keeping an eye on Kugisaki's slumbering form. It must have been a sight — the two teens stuffed into their respective swings, gently kicking their legs.
Yuuji had stilled by now, his shoes scraping the mulch. Fushiguro had too.
They sat in comfortable silence, watching as the Kugisaki's form rose and fell.
Yuuji turned to look at Fushiguro. He was staring ahead, his face as neutral as always. Even intoxicated, he somehow managed to look so poised, so perfect. He was always so effortlessly beautiful, it took Yuuji's breath away.
Fushiguro was always so hard to read, so carefully controlled and collected. Yuuji envied his strength, the way in which Fushiguro moved through the world with confidence. It was through his strength, after all, that Yuuji found it in himself to continue despite the guilt that clawed at him after Sukuna had taken over. He still thought about what he had said that day. We’re not heroes, we’re jujutsu sorcerers.
So start by saving me, Itadori.
And he had done just that.
When Fushiguro had woken up, things had shifted into a new normal. Their days were filled with missions. Sometimes all three of them, sometimes with others at the school. And they continued their duties, killing curses, wrangling awakened sorcerers.
Somehow, after Sukuna, life didn't stop.
But Yuuji wondered if Fushiguro gets nightmares, too. If he also woke up in a cold sweat, if the phantom stain of blood still lingered on his hands.
Even though Yuuji tried to swallow the feeling, he couldn't deny that the guilt was choking him. When he smiled, when he laughed, Yuuji wondered if he deserved it. If his life was worth it. He wondered if sometimes, Fushiguro felt that way too.
"What?" Fushiguro said, pulling Yuuji out of his head. Heat rose to his cheeks, realizing that he'd been staring at his friend for longer than he should have.
Yuuji shook his head. "Sorry. It's nothing."
"Spit it out, Itadori." Green eyes met his, and his breath hitched.
Yuuji looked at his hands to escape from Megumi's piercing gaze. He fiddled with the gauze wrapped around his ring finger, turning the question over in his head. "Fushiguro?"
"Hm?"
"Do you think we're good people?"
There was a pause. Yuuji couldn't bring himself to look at Fushiguro, instead focusing on the way his shoes dug into the dirt. He didn't even know why he'd asked. Yuuji didn't want some platitude, some excuse for why it wasn’t his fault or—
"Maybe not." Fushiguro's gaze shifted up to the night sky. The moonlight cast a shadow on his face, illuminating the soft slope of his nose. He looked ethereal. "Well, at least when I go to hell, you'll go there with me, too."
Yuuji blinked. He could help the laugh that erupted from him, the alcohol still tingling in his throat. "You always say the strangest things, but they're somehow exactly what I need to hear."
Fushiguro's head lolled to the side, resting on the metal chain of the swing. Pink dusted his cheeks, but Yuuji couldn't tell if it was the cold or the alcohol. Maybe a combination of both. "I could say the same to you."
"You're much better at words than me," Yuuji deflected, feeling his own cheeks burn.
Fushiguro stared at him, something crossing his face that Yuuji couldn't quite parse. He looked beautiful like this.
It's not the first time that thought had crossed his mind. Yuuji wasn't sure when it started, but somewhere along the line, through the battles and the heartache and the pain, it became harder and harder to ignore the pull in his chest that seemed to always lead straight to the boy in front of him.
Megumi's fingers fiddled with the chain of the swing. He pursed his lips, as if choosing his words carefully. Yuuji stayed silent, watching as the swing gently swayed with his movements.
"I know that no one would let me apologize for what happened in Shinjuku," Megumi started, his eyes downcast. "But I never got a chance to thank you."
"Thank me for what?" Yuuji asked, tilting so that he could get a better view of Fushiguro.
"For giving me a reason to live again."
Something stirred deep in Yuuji. It felt like he had swallowed a flock of crows, and their wings were fluttering relentlessly against the lining of his stomach. "You can't just say things like that, or else..."
"Or else what?"
"Or else I'll think it's like that."
He wasn't sure if it was a wine-induced illusion, but Megumi's eyes flickered down to Yuuji's lips. "And what if it is? Like that, I mean."
Yuuji's heart skipped a beat. He can't mean ...
There was no trace of humor in Megumi's eyes. Just curiosity and—
Hope.
His mind ran a mile a minute, tripping over itself as it parsed through his words, the adrenaline slowly sobering him up. He took in Megumi's face — the way his hair shone in the moonlight, the way his eyelashes framed his eyes, the way his lips were parted, glossy and pink from the cold.
Yuuji didn't think. He pushed away the metal chain of the swing, dug his feet into the mulch, and gently cupped Megumi's face in his hands.
They stay like that for a moment, their breath mingling, foreheads nearly touching. Megumi let out a hum of contentment, but said nothing else. He isn't moving away.
Yuuji leaned in.
The kiss was slow and sweet. Yuuji took his time, relishing Megumi's warmth in the frigid winter air. Megumi's hands moved to pull Yuuji closer, one resting on his shoulder and the other resting in his hair.
They continue like that for a while, neither of them quite knowing what they're doing. It's awkward, the chains of the swings clinking, their noses bumping together, but it's good.
Finally, they pulled apart, foreheads still resting together.
"I love you," Yuuji confessed, the words slipping out of his mouth before he could stop them. His cheeks stung in the wind, and he stopped himself from wincing at his words. That was way too soon—
Megumi let out a soft chuckle. "I love you too, idiot."
A nearby rustle pulled them out of their trance. Kugisaki shifted on the bench, her back now facing them. "Gay," she muttered.
Yuuji couldn't help himself. He laughed, tears springing into his eyes. He laughed like a little kid, feet swinging underneath him, his tummy hurting from the force of it.
Megumi laughed too, the sound both foreign yet painfully familiar. He snaked his hand into Yuuji's and rested his head on his shoulder.
They stayed like that for a while, gently swinging back and forth on the empty playground, not a care in the world. Yuuji wanted to stay in this moment forever. But he wasn't worried.
After all, they had the rest of their life ahead of them. And afterlife, too.