Archive of Our Own

Satoru has been staring at the same shadow for a good few minutes now, tilting his head this way and that way like a different perspective will change the facts. Several people have walked past him. 

At some point, Nobara walked past, slowed, and stared at him for a long second before scoffing, "Freak," and Maki barked out a laugh in agreement.

"Your beloved teacher is suffering," he'd said through a sigh, not looking away from the spot he was practically staring holes into.

“Good,” Nobara replied flatly.

"Tragic," Maki added as they continued down the hall.

A while later, Ijichi had attempted to talk to him only to be ignored and walk away with a sigh. Satoru hadn't meant to ignore him this time, really, mostly.

In his defense, he has a very good reason for this.

Megumi is in there. The shadows, that is.

He hasn't properly been around for days now.

Thinking back on the week makes something unpleasant settle in Satoru's chest. He can count on one hand the number of times he's properly seen Megumi this week, and actual conversations are fewer. Half the time, Satoru only caught glimpses — the edge of his uniform disappearing around corners, a shape slipping into another room before Satoru could call after him, disappearing into shadows.

He hadn't even shown up to class today. Satoru should've noticed something was wrong before it got to the point of Megumi actually skipping class.

At first, Satoru assumed Megumi was sulking somewhere. Normal teenager behavior, even moreso for him. Megumi's usual mood hovered permanently somewhere between irritated and unimpressed, so it hadn't immediately raised alarm bells.

Then classes ended and Satoru did a quick headcount. One spiky-haired student missing.

He counted again, just to be sure, going as far as to pat every students' head, earning some confused noises and almost earning him a smack if it wasn't for Infinity.

According to Yuuji and Nobara, neither of them hadn't seen him much, either.

"I think he's avoiding us," Yuuji admitted quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "Every time I see him lately, he leaves really fast."

Nobara crossed her arms, clicking her tongue. "Or he's just being dramatic again."

There was a beat before she added, less certain this time, "Though... yeah, okay, it's kinda weird this time."

"He hasn't even answered our texts!" Yuuji adds, clearly upset, showing Satoru several of his unanswered, even unread, texts to Megumi. "He usually at least sends a thumbs up." 

Satoru waved a hand dismissively, easy confidence slipping into his voice.

"Megumi can be real gloomy sometimes. You two will get used to it with time!"

(Lying through his teeth is something Satoru has done since he learned how to walk. Does this even count as lying, though? He's just omitting some of the truth.)

The second years hadn't heard of or seen Megumi, either, which was slightly more concerning.

"He skipped training," Maki said flatly and deeply offended. "So tell him I'm gonna kill him when I find him."

"Salmon cod roe," Toge called out from nearby. "Mustard leaf." 

Maki huffed. "If he's sick, he can still crawl to training!" 

Satoru simply laughs, and he almost hopes Megumi stays hidden a little longer for the sake of his survival.

By evening, the joking had started wearing him thin around the edges. He checks the dorms first.

Yuuji's. Nobara's. The second years'. Megumi's, twice. No sign of him.

His room is neat in the way it always is — organized enough to feel lived in, but still incredibly impersonal. Shoes nowhere in sight. Bag tossed beside the desk. Charging cable unplugged. He lingers in the doorway. Everything's there except Megumi himself.

Satoru sends him another text. No response. He considers calling him, thumb hovering over the call button for several long seconds before stopping himself. It'll be his last resort, he decides. Megumi hates phone calls.

The cafeteria is devoid of Megumi too. So are the training grounds. The rooftop. The library.

The morgue is his next stop. Shoko is exactly where he expected her to be, half-slouched in her chair, cigarette balanced lazily between two fingers while paperwork sits ignored beside her.

She glances up when he enters. "You look terrible," she says immediately.

"And you're glowing!" 

She presses her lips together. "You only smile like that when something's wrong."

Satoru pauses for half a second. Annoying.

He leans against the doorway instead, hands tucked into his pockets. "Megumi's missing."

That gets her attention. Her gaze sharpens slightly, cigarette lowering just a fraction.

"Missing missing?"

"Haven't seen him properly in days." Satoru shrugs loosely. "But now I really can't find him."

"You checked his room?"

"Twice."

"Phone?"

"My messages are practically rotting."

"Hm."

The morgue falls quiet again except for the soft buzzing overhead. Satoru is thankful there isn't a dead body in there with them this time.

Shoko watches him for another long second before sighing through her nose. "I know you don't come down here unless you're actually worried."

His smile slips a little at that. Shoko notices, because of course she does. He makes a point of not looking directly at her.

"He'll turn up," she says after a moment, glancing away, quieter this time. "Megumi's strong."

It's meant to reassure him, but something about it makes Satoru feel worse instead. Strong people disappear quietly all the time. He would know. They both would know.

When he finally pushes himself away from the doorway, shaking that thought away, Shoko speaks again without looking at him.

"You know," she says lightly, "Most parents would've panicked hours ago."

Satoru snorts automatically. "Good thing he—"

"Yeah, yeah," she interrupts him and waves a hand dismissively. "Whatever."

He leaves after that, a little faster than necessary. No time for that now.

Eventually, he gave up on searching normally and let the Six Eyes do the work consciously this time. The strain shouldn't be bad at all, and even if it was, he could handle it.

The traces of Megumi's cursed energy was almost impossible to notice at first. Faint and dragged-out, like smoke after a fire has been put out, but it was still unmistakably Megumi's. Satoru followed it outside, but the trail ended abruptly near one of the walkways connecting the school buildings.

He stopped. 

"... Huh."

The evening sun stretched long shadows across the concrete beneath the pillars, dark shapes bleeding together across the ground. He looks around. Megumi's cursed energy and the Six Eyes led him here, and he knows he isn't wrong.

"Man," he hums to himself, his hands on his hips. "Didn't expect a treasure hunt on a random Thursday." 

He looks down at the shadows being cast by the pillars, stretching across the ground, and ah. All at once, Satoru realizes the problem. He'd been searching for Megumi like a normal person would, not a sorcerer.

There was nothing really visible except the fading remnants of Megumi's cursed energy humming softly against Satoru's senses, and its source somewhere deep in the darkness. A cold feeling crawls unpleasantly up Satoru's spine and he shakes his entire body like a wet dog to get rid of it.

"Okay," he muttered to himself with a smile. "Horrifying. Good to know you do this."

The minutes drag on longer. With a breath, he crouches near the edge of one shadow, resting his chin against his palm. Found you.

"Megumiii," he said lightly, dragging Megumi's name, like he wasn't suddenly very aware of how long Megumi had been gone as the sky darkens. "You're giving everyone quite the scare, you know." 

There's no real response except for a small ripple in the shadows. It stops as fast as it happens, and he can imagine Megumi regrets the slight reaction.

With the Six Eyes, he can make out Megumi's shape curled somewhere deep inside the shadows, impossibly tight and small, to the point it barely resembles a person at first glance. His cursed energy drifts weakly through the darkness around him, blending into it, like blood in water.

Megumi had always been frighteningly good at making himself small.

Satoru remembers a much younger Megumi sitting silently in corners, hiding in the darkness of his closet and under beds. He never really asked the kid why he did it, knowing he wouldn't get a real response.

He lowers himself fully to the ground after a moment, crossing his legs near the pillar. If Megumi wanted to hide, then trying to drag him out by force would only make him retreat further.

So Satoru waits, because he also remembers crouching on the apartment floors many times to bribe a six-year-old with convenience store snacks and awful instant noodles just to coax him back out again. 

Back then, it had almost been funny, except for the times Satoru genuinely couldn't find him and thought the kid had run away for good. It was an habit Megumi grew out of eventually, settling for just locking his bedroom door or hiding under the covers in bed, trusting Satoru to know to when to leave him alone.

Now, though, staring at the shadows swallowing the outline of Megumi's body whole — it just made him feel sick.

"You know," he said, voice deliberately casual, "You could've just pretended to be sick to skip class. Shoko would've gladly given you a medical slip."

The shadows don't shift this time, but Satoru knows Megumi is listening. Hopefully.

"You skipped training too," he continues lightly. "Maki threatened your life, by the way. So if you mysteriously vanish forever, I'll assume it was her."

He waits for another reaction. Nothing.

If it weren't for the Six Eyes and Megumi's cursed energy curled deep inside the shadows, he would've thought he'd imagined finding him at all.

"... Tough crowd," He stretches his legs out in front of himself with exaggerated carelessness, leaning back on his palms. The concrete beneath him is still warm from the day, though evening air has started creeping in around the edges.

The campus carries on around them regardless of the situation. Distant footsteps echo somewhere down another corridor. Someone laughs far away. Doors open and shut. Wind rustles softly through the trees lining the walkway, shadows dragging themselves across the concrete in slow, shifting patterns.

Megumi stays buried underneath them all, more of a witness than a participant.

His cursed energy is unstable in a way Satoru doesn't like at all. There are long stretches where it dims so badly Satoru's stomach twists uncomfortably before it strengthens again a second later. Usually his technique is controlled with flawless precision, the flow of cursed energy clean and deliberate even when he's worn out. Now it's like Megumi is struggling just to maintain this.

He wears shadows like second skin, and has been doing so almost since his technique manifested, slipping in and out of them with ease that sometimes still surprises Satoru. But remaining submerged in them this long is —

How long has it been like this? How long has Satoru been blind to this? He thinks back through the week again in terrible hindsight. Of course it will be obvious now, couldn't have it been this obvious to him then? 

Megumi definitely assumed no one would notice he was gone, or at the very least that no one would come looking for him. The thought of not looking for him makes Satoru's skin crawl.

Megumi should know better by now.

He should know that people would notice. That Yuuji would hover outside his door with terrible DVDs and an increasingly defeated expression. That Nobara would stomp through the hallways while very obviously checking every room for him. That Tsumiki would've torn the entire school apart looking for him if she were here. That Satoru would always come looking for him.

"Hey," he says lightly, tapping two fingers against the concrete beside him. "You should probably release your technique soon."

A pause. "Seriously," Satoru continues, a bit sterner now. "You're wearing yourself pretty thin."

The shadows nearest the pillar twitch weakly, but otherwise there's still no real response. He sighs.

"If you pass out in there, it'll be very awkward for the both of us," he tries after another minute, trying very hard to keep his worry out of his voice for now. 

Satoru feels the immediate spike of resistance through the cursed energy before it bleeds into exhaustion again. A fragile contradiction. Go away. Don't leave. Stay back. Stay. Leave. Leave. Leave.

Megumi had always been terrible at needing people.

Satoru opens his mouth to say something else when, suddenly, the shadows beneath the pillars distort hard enough to swallow the light around them for a split second, writhing like something alive. Megumi's cursed energy spikes, exhausted and fraying at the edges.

He can't, won't, hold it anymore.

Satoru straightens and his expression drops momentarily. "Megumi—"

The technique releases, and the darkness collapses inward all at once. Megumi emerges from the darkness, curled in on himself with his knees to his chest. His uniform is wrinkled and his hair falls messily over his face, hiding most of his expression, but Satoru can clearly see the exhaustion carved into every line of his body. His breathing is shallow, like it hurts.

"Hey, kiddo," Satoru says, a little softer now. Gentle in a way almost nobody ever hears from him in a genuine way.

Megumi doesn't look at him. So, naturally, Satoru does the only reasonable thing possible.

He reaches over and flicks Megumi in the forehead.

Megumi recoils slightly on instinct, finally looking at him for half a second with exhausted, startled eyes. There you are.

Normally, Megumi would've smacked Satoru's hand away immediately. Complained. Glared. Needed to see Shoko because Satoru accidentally flicked him too hard and broke skin. Something.

Instead, he just stares at him for that brief moment, dark eyes unfocused around the edges, then his gaze drops again. It's hard to hide the concern written all over Satoru's face now. "Wow," he says, trying to keep his voice light, "That didn't even earn me a threat."

Megumi just shifts silently where he's sitting, movements stiff and uncoordinated. His fingers curl loosely into the oversized sleeves of his uniform jacket, tugging at the fabric near his wrists. A nervous habit.

Satoru watches, letting out a quiet, weary breath. He's thankful there's no blood there for the Six Eyes to pick up on this time. "You've gotta stop scaring me like this," he says quietly, the joking tone finally slipping enough for the truth to show through.

Megumi's movements halt briefly at that. His head lowers further. God, what Satoru wouldn't do to hear one of his usual biting comments right now.

His drums his fingers on his legs nervously before slowly shifting closer, almost close enough to touch. It's enough to ground Megumi there in the real world instead of somewhere deep underwater inside his technique.

Megumi stiffens and Satoru wholeheartedly expects him to sink back into the shadows again. Instead, he just goes still again. There's another long silence before Megumi's voice — rough and painfully quiet from disuse — breaks it.

"... sorry."

Satoru presses his lips together in a grimace at the weak apology. He thinks, not for the first time, that this is something Megumi has engrained in his brain. To apologize for taking up space and for not being enough simultaneously.

Instead of accepting the apology, Satoru shakes his head and pats Megumi's head, the layer of Infinity between them thin. "Hey," he says softly. "None of that."

Megumi's shoulders tense immediately, like he's bracing for reprimand anyway. Satoru lets his hand linger.

"You don't need to apologize for this." Satoru keeps his voice easy, careful around the edges. "... Okay, for ignoring me, maybe. But absolutely not for struggling."

There's a pause, and he removes his hand. He can't look away from Megumi, the way he's curled up, the tension that doesn't seem like it'll go away anytime soon, the guilt.

"I just... I wish I'd come to me before things get this bad, Gumi," Satoru continues, voice gentle, "But I get why you don't. You're terrible at this stuff, maybe even worse than I am." 

A weak, tired huff leaves Megumi's nose before he can stop it. Satoru is so relieved he almost laughs. "... don't call me that," Megumi mumbles.

Tiny, grumpy, half-dead sounding irritation. Wonderful.

Satoru exhales slowly through his nose, tension easing out of him so suddenly it leaves him a little dizzy. The sound of Megumi's voice, rough and miserable as it is, still feels like something unclenching painfully inside his chest.

"Yeah, yeah," he says, quieter now, lips pulling into a small smile. He'll make sure to call him that more often.

Megumi murmurs something incomprehensible, still avoiding eye contact. Every time Satoru catches even the slightest glimpse of his eyes beneath his bangs, he lowers his face even more, still folded tightly into himself like he's trying to occupy as little space as possible, but at least he's here.

The urge to pull him into a hug hits Satoru with startling force. He doesn't do it. He really wants to. Genuine affection isn't something either of them are good at. It used to be easier.

Not easy, but easier.

Megumi had always been a difficult kid, suspicious of kindness in a way children weren't supposed to be. But after he and Tsumiki both got used to Satoru's presence in their lives, he tolerated things. He let Satoru drape himself over the couch beside him. Let him ruffle his hair whenever he started successfully summoning his Divine Dogs. Let him throw an arm around his shoulders and steer him toward restaurants after missions and school meetings and long, exhausting days.

Of course, as he grew up, he started getting embarrassed easier, but there weren't as many walls up anymore.

Then Tsumiki was cursed.

Megumi was essentially haunting their apartment after it happened. Satoru had hardly seen him around for the next couple of weeks, and when Megumi reemerged, he was as distant as ever. He'd stopped initiating conversations, stopped asking for things, and stopped caring.

As much as Satoru wanted to cross the growing distance between them, he has no idea how to go on about things; he was doing everything he could to find a way to break Tsumiki's curse, all while keeping an eye on Megumi to make sure he wouldn't do something drastic. Her presence was a bright light in both their lives that had suddenly dimmed.

And then, only months later, Suguru.

The thought, simple as it was, settles heavily in his chest. If Megumi pulled away after Tsumiki, Satoru had done the exact same thing after Suguru.

Suguru died. He killed him. Satoru could never wash away the blood, and the worst part is it was necessary. There wasn't anything else he could've done. His life was to be taken by Satoru eventually.

He'd almost always kept Infinity up since his student years, but after that, he rarely ever lowered it. How could he after something like that? 

Megumi retreating into himself. Satoru retreating behind Infinity. Neither of them saying a damn thing about it.

... There had been one time.

Not long after the Parade of a Thousand Demons. A week after, maybe more. Satoru had come home late like usual. He'd been taking on more missions than usual, all to keep himself busy.

Megumi was awake, which on itself wasn't strange. He never really expected the kid to respect his bedtime. He was on the couch, either watching TV or pretending to, and he'd turned to look when Satoru walked in.

Satoru smiled at him like he'd always done and asked about dinner. Megumi didn't respond, instead standing up and pausing, like he was thinking something over. Satoru tilted his head, asking if something was wrong. Then, carefully, like he was trying to convince himself to — Megumi reached out just enough that his fingers would have brushed against Satoru's sleeve.

Infinity stopped him just before he could.

They both froze. Satoru remembers blinking, confused, opening his mouth to say something, anything at all, but Megumi was already gone.

The first time he had tried to reach out since his sister was cursed. The last time. The kid had reached for him and Satoru, without even thinking about it, had made himself impossible to reach.

It isn't something he normally thinks about anymore. Infinity is as natural as breathing, if not more. It's always there, a constant beneath everything else. It's safe. And if it's safe for him, it's safe for everyone.

Satoru stares down at Megumi's bowed head, at the way he's clutching his own sleeves, holding himself because nobody else will. His throat tightens unexpectedly. 

He hesitates, weighing the pros and cons even though the right choice was obvious. Anything to avoid admitting to himself that he was scared.

The only indication of Infinity being released is a quiet, near silent hum. Megumi doesn't seem to notice. Satoru feels like an exposed nerve. 

"God," he breathes out. "I'm terrible at this."

With that, he closes the distance necessary for their shoulders to properly touch. Megumi immediately flinches, turning to look at Satoru in genuine shock, because, what the fuck?

Satoru is suddenly very interested in the concrete beneath his feet.

Megumi blinks once, twice. His gaze flickers from Satoru's shoulder where they're touching, up to his face, then back down again. It's like he can't tell if this is actually happening or if he's hallucinating.

"Look," Satoru says quickly with an humorless, nervous laugh. because silence is dangerous. Silence means thinking. Thinking means he'll chicken out and he can't do that now. "Before you say anything, I'm doing this because I want to."

(It's only half a lie this time.)

Megumi doesn't say anything. He continues to stare with a mix of incredulity and something else Satoru has no idea how to name. He eventually shifts his gaze away, still looking puzzled, and Satoru lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

For a second, neither of them move. Satoru almost wishes Megumi would.

Tell him to get lost. Shrug him off. Roll his eyes and complain about personal space. Anything normal. 

He focuses on something that isn't his barriers being down — the pressure of Megumi's shoulder against Satoru's arm is close to nothing. Megumi has always been lean, perhaps as a result of childhood malnutrition, but not like this — he's definitely lost weight, that's much more obvious now that they're close enough to actually touch.

Six Eyes stare at him from every possible angle. How long? How long? How long?

"Megumi?" The kid makes a sound of acknowledgment, fidgeting with his sleeves once again. "When was the last time you ate something?"

He feels Megumi stiffen again before forcing himself to relax. He doesn't respond, instead just shrugging. Satoru makes a humming sound.

"You don't remember?" He guesses after a beat, to which Megumi responds by shifting slightly, tugging harder on his sleeves. He'll take that as a yes. Damn it. He really needs to keep a closer eye on Megumi's nearly nonexistent diet.

Satoru watches him for another second before making a decision. Slowly, careful enough to give him every opportunity to pull away, he slides an around Megumi's shoulders.

(When was the last time he really hugged him? When was the last time anyone hugged him?)

His shoulders lock and, for one awful second, Satoru thinks he's pushed too far. He has apologies and jokes that won't land on his tongue before the tension breaks. Megumi's shoulders sag a fraction beneath his arm, exhaustion winning out over every instinct telling him to pull away. He doesn't lean into the contact as much as he just stops fighting it.

"Okay," Satoru says quietly, more to himself than to Megumi. Thank God. "Okay."

He feels so small against him like this, Satoru has to fight the urge to pull him into his lap. His free hand comes up and lightly runs through Megumi's messy hair, and he feels him sigh.

He keeps his hand there, carefully working through tangles with his fingers, blunt nails lightly scratching his scalp. The motion is absent-minded, almost. Something to do with his hands besides hold him too tightly.

For a while, neither of them speak or move much. The nighttime air settles around them, cool and quiet. Megumi's eyes are half-lidded now, exhaustion deep in his bones.

★

The fingers in his hair don't stop and the arm around his shoulders doesn't pull away. Every point of contact is setting Megumi's skin on fire.

It doesn't make sense, he tells himself again and again, his train of thought sluggish. He feels Satoru carefully untangling strands of hair and he has to swallow down a painful lump in his throat to avoid saying something stupid.

Satoru is acting like he has all the time in the world and they both know that couldn't be farther from the truth. Sure, Satoru always makes time for his students, taking them on outings and dinners and tagging along on missions with them, and he puts off bureaucracy in favor of doing quite literally anything else but this — 

Surely he has better things to do than sit in the dark with his ward who can't even explain to him what's wrong. Megumi's mouth moves before his brain can catch up.

"You should go," he manages to get out, cringing at the sound of his own voice. He feels Satoru's hand still in his hair before resuming its movements, his arm around his shoulders tightening ever so slightly.

"Nope," is all the man says, popping the 'P' sound a little. 

Megumi wants to strangle him. It's such a him thing to do, to answer just like that and not elaborate, just keep it as it is. Why does he still do this? Almost ten years later, he's still sticking to Megumi's side like glue.

Why are you staying? Why aren't you mad? Why are you touching me? Why won't you just fucking leave?

Megumi stares stubbornly at the ground through half-lidded eyes. There's no point in asking any of that when Satoru will just dance around an answer like he always does. He lets out a quiet, tired sigh, one of his hands coming to grab onto Satoru's uniform.

He doesn't even really register doing it. His body is weak and he's too out of it to think better of it, the fabric bunching beneath his fingers. Megumi doesn't realize what he's doing until several seconds later.

His hand is curled as tightly as it can be around Satoru's uniform jacket, knuckles pale against the dark material. His hand is shaking and his grip is unsteady. He should let go, but his body won't listen.

He can feel Satoru's gaze on him. He can only hope the look in his eyes isn't one of disdain; he doesn't have it in him to check. He squeezes his eyes shut until phosphenes consume his vision.

"You haven't been sleeping, have you," Satoru says, and his tone suggests he isn't expecting an answer. That works for him. He doesn't know how to respond to that — whenever my body gives out and I pass out? He's not saying that. 

There's another pocket of silence before Satoru hums under his breath, his head lightly knocking against Megumi's. So annoying.

"Megumi," God, he hates how gentle he sounds. That shouldn't be directed at him. "I need you to be honest for once, m'kay?"

Fucking hypocrite, Megumi thinks, not for the first time, but doesn't say. He owes Satoru some honesty, he knows that it's the least he could do — but Megumi can't guarantee it. He doesn't say anything in response to that either.

Satoru doesn't seem bothered by his lack of response. Instead, he continues with a breath, "Do you want to die?" 

The question settles over them like a blanket of wet snow. The fingers gripping Satoru's uniform loosen their hold, and he wished so badly that Satoru hadn't come looking for him.

He can't run from this question the way he runs from everything else. The answer is sitting somewhere beneath his ribs, ugly and sharp. Megumi stares at the dark red of the inside of his eyelids and the silence stretches long enough that Megumi almost convinces himself he can ignore the question entirely, pretend Satoru hadn't asked it, and they could both ignore it just like they did everything else.

Megumi feels like there's a deep gash inside him, an old wound that has been recently reopened and is bleeding all over his internal organs. It's infected and spreading, and Megumi is rotting from the inside out.

"... I don't know," he eventually says, barely any louder than the wind. It's the closest thing to the absolute truth he can give. 

"I just..." He twists the fabric of Gojo's uniform between his fingers and realizes he hasn't let go yet. His throat burns and he prays he won't vomit. He weighs his words, trying to find something he can stomach saying. "I'm... tired."

And isn't that the most pathetic thing he could say? He could almost laugh at himself. The only thing that stops him from doing so is feeling Satoru go completely still. He doesn't say anything for what feels like several minutes and Megumi regrets opening his mouth at all. He'd answered, and he wonders if the truth will come with a price.

The hand in his hair is still and Megumi hates how he misses the feeling of it working through his hair. It was far more than he deserved, anyway.

Satoru breathes out through his nose and the sound registers as strange to Megumi. He doesn't risk opening his eyes and looking at him. 

"You know," he starts, quiet, staring out at the dark corridors ahead instead of at Megumi, "That's... actually the answer I was scared of."

Satoru laughs, and it's a horrible sound. It's hollow and shaky. "It's funny, almost," they both know it isn't, but he continues. "I was trying really hard to convince myself you just wanted to be alone, or that you were pissed at someone, at me... Something like that."

The hand in Megumi's hair starts moving again, and Megumi swears there's a conscious effort to keep his hand from shaking. He internally curses himself.

"... I'm so blind." 

He can feel Satoru thinking before speaking and that notion is almost absurd. Satoru never seemed to do so before, words simply happened to him and everyone suffered its consequences. But right now every second of silence, of careful movement, feels deliberate in a way that is making Megumi increasingly uneasy.

The exhaustion weighing him down makes it difficult to react when Satoru shifts beside him. He only realizes what's happening when a hand settles firmly against his side. "Sorry," Satoru murmurs, simple.

Before Megumi can process what's happening and protest, Satoru is pulling him closer and into his lap. His shoulder is pressed against Satoru's chest, both Satoru's arms caging him like he might disappear otherwise. It's humiliating; Megumi isn't a child anymore.

Despite his inner turmoil, his body betrays him almost immediately and every muscle in his body relaxes at once, even if just a bit. He knows they both feel it and he wants to crawl back into the dark. The exhaustion won again.

He doesn't see it, but something pained flashes across Satoru's face. He hears it in his voice, though. 

"Oh, kid."

Satoru sounds the closest he's ever heard to terrified. He lowers his head until it rests lightly against Megumi's hair, rubbing his cheek against it.

All this care and concern feel misplaced. Satoru is pouring all of it into a black hole — it's pointless, a waste of energy. He hates himself for being so difficult. He's just sitting here, letting himself be comforted when all he's done for the past week or so is distance himself from everyone.

Megumi has to choke down a pathetic noise that threatens to spill from his throat. "... Don't," He mutters, though there is no force in it. The words barely leave him.

Satoru huffs out a breath, but his arms don't loosen. If anything, he holds Megumi tighter, as if he is reminding him that he is still there, still holding on, refusing to let him slip away.

"I can't lose you," Satoru's voice sounds strained when he speaks. Megumi's fingers tighten once again in the uniform he has no right to be clutching. He trails off, "Just imagining getting to you too late..." 

Megumi inhales sharply like he'd forgotten to breathe. His eyes sting and he bites the inside of his cheek hard enough to taste blood because he refuses to let himself cry. He has no right to, not when he's the one that caused all of this. His vision starts to blur at the edges, and one of Satoru's hands moves.

He blames it on his current state when the movement makes his heart rate spike — he assumes that this is it, Satoru has had enough and finally realized he has better things to do than sit on the ground with a stray he picked off the streets when he was just a student himself.

The panic is soon overridden by confusion when he hears fabric rustling. He tilts his head slightly and —

Bright blue eyes stare back at him. It's been a while.

He wants to look away. He wants to sink back into the dark and disappear where he doesn't have to be seen like this, where he doesn't have to watch his (benefactor, mentor, father) unbearably persistent teacher bare himself open in front of him all for his sake. He can't look away.

"I should've noticed," Satoru says, and now the guilt is in his voice too, raw and heavy. "I should've done something sooner. I'm sorry I didn't."

Megumi is still staring blankly at him. Why is he apologizing? He wasn't one hiding, the one avoiding anyone, the one dodging every attempt at connection out of selfish fear. The guilt coils viciously around Megumi's lungs and he silently hopes he chokes.

"You didn't..." His voice cracks halfway through the sentence. He swallows and tries again. "You didn't do anything."

The words come out all wrong, and Satoru's expression somehow becomes more pained. "Yeah," he says softly, his fingers mindlessly tracing patterns on Megumi's uniform. "That's part of the problem."

Megumi looks away first. He can't bear to keep looking in the eyes the man who spent nearly ten years refusing to abandon him and his sister. The man who had every reason to be frustrated and angry, and yet was holding him like he was something precious.

He shakes his head a little, trying to physically get rid of the thought, and the brief movement makes him dizzy. He rests his head against Satoru's shoulder. He's silent. They're both silent.

Satoru doesn't seem interested in filling the quiet with words anymore, and Megumi can't find it in himself to speak either. His eyes are growing heavy again, but he's fighting to keep them open. Much like with crying, he won't allow himself rest.

He can't trust the warmth, much less trust himself with it. It seems that anything he touches eventually falls apart; he's lucky when he's the only one that gets hurt. He's sure this is something he'd lose, too, if he let himself get too comfortable.

His eyelids droop despite his best efforts, and he feels Satoru adjust his hold on him ever so slightly to ensure his comfort. "You can sleep, y'know."

Megumi makes a sound that was meant to be a 'no', but his brain and his body are barely cooperating anymore. He feels more than he hears Satoru let out a quiet laugh.

Time is loose and watery and Megumi can’t hold onto it anymore. He only registers Satoru’s breathing, careful and close, and the occasional shift of his body to keep Megumi supported without jostling him too much. He realizes, then, that he hasn't let go of Satoru's uniform at all yet. Before he can force himself to, though, one of Satoru's hands cover his own.

"... I wish you could see what I see," Is what the man says, almost through a sigh and still in that same stupid soft tone of voice that is somehow soothing the growing ache behind Megumi's eyes. He feels him caress his hand with featherlight touches; his thumb brushes slowly over Megumi’s knuckles, almost absent-minded, like he’s memorizing the shape of his bones.

Megumi tries to shift away, more out of the instinct to run than actual real will, but the movement is pitiful and half-hearted at best. Satoru notices anyway, and the arm around him tightens just a little.

“Don’t,” he says, and there’s no sharpness in it, only an exhausted sort of tenderness. “Stay.”

The word lands strange and heavy between them. Megumi can't get himself to move at all after that.

He really wants to cry. Instead he just lets his eyes slip shut consciously this time. He knows Satoru is entirely too pleased with himself and he should be irritated, but he doesn't have it in him to care about that when he's about to pass out in his arms.

He feels himself leaning more against Satoru's shoulder than he means to, a surrender so small it barely counts, but it does, because Satoru freezes completely for a second before relaxing again.

"You're not some burden I got stuck with, Megumi," Satoru eventually speaks again. Megumi feels his chest ache a little at the words, tender and annoying, like pressing down on a bruise. "I chose you. I chose Tsumiki." 

Megumi's free hand twitches. Satoru pauses, and as much as Megumi wants to look, he can't. He feels the man take in a deep, shaky breath before continuing speaking. "I chose to raise you both, you hear me?"

He feels the man rub his cheek against his head again. Stupid, he thinks half-heartedly, trying to steady his breathing so he doesn't burst into tears and embarrass himself even more. Despite knowing this amount of vulnerability will make him physically ill when it's over, Megumi finds himself hiding his face in the crook of Satoru's neck. He can feel his pulse — it's steady, despite everything.

"I'd do it all over again if I had to," Satoru continues, the arm holding Megumi against him squeezing him gently. "Without thinking twice about it. So, please..."

Megumi tries to think of the last time Satoru said "please" in a genuine way, and he can't. He isn't sure of how to feel about it being directed at him without an ounce of teasing.

"Please don't go where I can't follow, little star," The man concludes, terribly soft and Megumi thanks he imagined that last part. He opens his eyes, startled, but doesn't move. Little star? 

He doesn't know what to do with that, nor with the way it settles over him, warm and surreal and too gentle for someone like him.

It doesn't fit. He can't begin to imagine what it is that Satoru's seeing that he finds worth comparing him to a star. There's nothing bright about him, nothing admirable. If there's someone comparable to a star, it would've been Tsumiki. It is Tsumiki.

Little star. He knows Satoru wholeheartedly thinks that nickname suits him and it's terrifying.

The darkness around them remains unchanged, shadows pooling in corners and beneath stairwells and along concrete walls — the same shadows he'd buried himself inside for days and had felt comforting right up until Satoru pretty much followed him into them.

Don't go where I can't follow.

Megumi swallows dry. He can't promise that. He can't promise it won't get bad enough to the point he'll want to bury himself into shadows, curl up and die there. He can't promise he won't try to, or at least that he'd move out of the way in a life threatening situation.

He's thankful Satoru doesn't seem to expect an answer. He's patient and present and right here, and Megumi is clinging to that fact with his nails and teeth. 

He'll always come looking for him, even when Megumi doesn't want him to. Especially then.

Sleep tugs insistently at the edges of his consciousness, and this time he doesn't fight it. He falls asleep to Satoru's breathing.