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Nightmares weren’t a rare occurrence for Yuuji. Since he was a kid, he constantly got them, despite not having watched or experienced anything particularly scary.
He wasn’t even scared that often. He loved horror movies, especially the Human Earthworm franchise. But his dreams were always wild, expressive, and emotional.
They were never simple dreams either. There was always something happening, something strange or unnerving that left him confused when he woke up. Sometimes he couldn’t even remember what the nightmare was about, only the lingering feeling it left behind. Other times, he remembered every single detail.
When he was a child, he used to creep up to his grandpa’s bed, who always accepted him despite the muttered complaints he let under his breath. Yuuji never really understood how his grandpa could fall asleep so easily after being woken up, but he always did. Sometimes he would pretend he was still asleep, only moving over enough for Yuuji to fit.
Post-hospitalisation, Yuuji didn’t know what to do. There was no familiar bed to crawl into anymore, no grumbling voice telling him to go back to sleep. So he resorted to sleepless nights, reading manga or watching funny TV shows to ease him down. It was easier to stay awake than to fall asleep and risk dreaming about something he couldn’t control.
When he ate Sukuna’s finger, his dreams became more disgusting, even hellish in a way. Yuuji suspected it had to do with the demon now possessing his body, who never seemed to sleep or shut up. And because he had access to Yuuji’s memories, he was able to castigate him. Sukuna would occasionally make comments about them, usually with that irritating voice that made Yuuji want to punch himself just to get him to shut up. Yuuji never gave him the satisfaction of admitting that some of the dreams genuinely bothered him.
Yuuji was now an expert at perfectly ignoring his existence, especially when it came to useless Heian-era information and self-praise. But the nightmares were impossible to ignore. No matter how much he tried to brush them off, there was always something about them that made his stomach twist when he woke up.
Sometimes he would lie completely still, staring at the ceiling and waiting for his heart to calm down. Other times, he would immediately reach for his phone, desperate for something mundane enough to remind him where he actually was.
Especially after Yuuji died, the memories of that dreary night always made sure to creep up on his mind. His blood gushing down the hole in his chest, his heart on the ground, the air rushing through the space in his body, in addition to his blurry mind and dizzy head, were common thoughts in the back of his mind. He didn’t even remember everything properly, which somehow made it worse. His mind had filled in the gaps on its own, replaying the same few images until they became familiar. Sometimes he wondered if his brain even knew the difference between remembering something and imagining it.
Fushiguro probably had it worse than him. Yes, Yuuji did die, that was horrendous enough, but apart from vague memories and broken records, he didn’t remember a lot. Fushiguro, on the other hand, remembered everything. He watched Yuuji fall on the ground, covered in blood, and probably had to carry his lifeless body to the car. He had Yuuji’s blood on his hands too. Yuuji didn’t like thinking about that part. It made him feel guilty in a way he couldn’t really explain, despite knowing that none of it had been Fushiguro’s fault. If anything, Fushiguro had already done more than enough for him.
That was the excuse Yuuji had to not ask advice from his friends or Sensei about his nightmares. Some people just had more vibrant dreams than others. It was all a part of nature. There was no reason to make a big deal out of it, especially when everyone around him already had enough to deal with. He was used to handling things on his own anyway. He could always wait until morning, get some food, bother Kugisaki and Fushiguro for a while, and eventually forget about it.
Although, one particularly scary night, he had enough. He decided to seek comfort from his friends. That’s what friends are for, right? But his options were limited between Kugisaki and Fushiguro. He stayed in bed for a while, staring at the ceiling and trying to convince himself that he was being ridiculous. It was only a nightmare. He had survived worse than a nightmare. He had literally died before. Surely a bad dream wasn’t going to be the thing that broke him.
Kugisaki was bound to tease him to no avail. Yuuji liked the girl a lot, don’t get him wrong, but growing up as an only child, she had no prior experience to comfort. As far as he knew, Kugisaki’s dreams probably consisted of infinite money for shopping and modelling gigs. She would probably tell him to stop being a baby, throw a pillow at his face, and then somehow make the entire situation about the latest drama she had watched. The boy could already imagine the insults he would have to endure in the morning.
So, his options narrowed to one.
Fushiguro had a sister. He was already in a better place than Kugisaki. But one thing was obvious. Fushiguro sucked at emotions. He wouldn’t know what to say or what to do to comfort Yuuji. It seemed like his sister was the one comforting him anyway. Yuuji had seen it before, the way Fushiguro would just sit there while his sister talked to him, seemingly content to let her do all the emotional work. He wasn’t exactly the most comforting person in the world.
Despite all that, Yuuji mustered up the guts and got out of his bed, making his way to Fushiguro’s room (one step distance), and knocking on the door.
For a minute, Yuuji thought Fushiguro wouldn’t open the door. He heard nothing from the other side, contemplating if he was in a deep sleep and feeling guilty over waking him up. But at last, the door opened, revealing a sleepy Fushiguro Megumi.
“Itadori?” His voice, god.
“Hi, Fushi. Sorry for waking you up.” Yuuji scratched the back of his neck, suddenly feeling embarrassed.
“It’s fine.” Fushiguro murmured, yawning and rubbing his eyes. “What’s up?”
“Can I come in?” Fushiguro nodded, moved aside, and closed the door.
Fushiguro’s room wasn’t a foreign environment to Yuuji. He and Kugisaki spent many hours berating Fushiguro and playing video games, sometimes even Gojo-sensei joining them.
Tonight, though, the room felt different. Maybe it was because it was quiet. There was no Kugisaki yelling at him for cheating, no Gojo-sensei laughing obnoxiously from the corner, no sound of a game menu playing in the background. Just the faint hum of the air conditioner and Fushiguro standing there. Judging?
Yuuji suddenly wished he hadn’t come over. He was not a kid, for god’s sake. He could sleep off the nightmare. It was time he got over his fears.
“Actually,” he began, already backing toward the door, “I think I might just-“
“What happened?” Fushiguro interrupted.
Yuuji stopped, grinding his teeth and turning back around.
“Nothing.”
Fushiguro stared at him. His green eyes sometimes reminded him of Gojo’s blue ones. They were green unlike his blue ones, but super bright and vibrant. It really contrasted with his total black look and pale skin.
Despite Fushiguro’s face revealing no emotion, Yuuji had become an expert at reading the emerald green. Yuuji smiled to himself.
Fushiguro continued staring.
“…Okay, something happened.” He exhaled.
“Thought so.”
Yuuji scratched the back of his neck again. He hated that he kept doing that whenever he was nervous. Fushiguro probably noticed. Fushiguro noticed everything.
He noticed when Yuuji was sore after training. He noticed when Yuuji was struggling at a math equation (and helped him solve it, explaining patiently the steps). He noticed when Yuuji was really excited for something. He really noticed everything.
“I had a nightmare.”
There was a pause.
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
Another pause.
“Bad one?” Fushiguro tilted his head.
Yuuji let out a nervous laugh. “No, I usually wake up from nightmares.”
Fushiguro blinked.
“Usually?”
“No, no. Sorry.” Yuuji waved his hands. “It’s just… I don’t know. It was really bad.” He groaned, putting his face between his hands. Fushiguro’s expression changed just slightly. Not much. Most people probably wouldn’t have noticed.
Yuuji did.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Thump.
“No! No.” He waved his hands around.
“Okay.”
The answer came so easily that Yuuji almost laughed. Everything was so easy with Fushiguro. So simple yet comforting.
“That’s it?”
“What do you want me to say?”
“I don’t know. Maybe something profound.”
“Gojo’s the one who says stupid things like that.” Yuuji snickered.
“Hey, some of Gojo-sensei’s things are profound.” Megumi rolled his eyes, drilling holes into Yuuji’s.
“Name one.”
Yuuji opened his mouth. Nothing came out. He opened it again. Then closed it.
“…I hate you.”
“You came to my room.” Yuuji nodded.
Fushiguro sighed and sat down on the edge of his bed. He looked exhausted, his hair messier than usual and his eyes barely open.
Yuuji remained by the door, guilt suddenly eating him up. Fushiguro glanced at him.
“Sorry, I can-“
“You wanna stay-” They spoke simultaneously.
Fushiguro waited, motioning for him to go first. That was another thing about him. He was surprisingly good at waiting.
Over the most complex situations, he was patient. Despite his words, his eyes were filled with patience. Yuuji could get lost in those eyes… He didn’t pressure Yuuji into talking. He just sat there, rubbing his eyes.
Eventually, Yuuji walked over and sat beside him. Their shoulders didn’t touch. Yuuji wished they did.
“…It was about that night.”
Fushiguro went still. Yuuji immediately regretted saying it.
“Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize.”
“Sorry.”
“I just told you not to.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“I’m gonna punch you.” Fushiguro murmured.
Yuuji chuckled, staring at his hands.
“I don’t remember everything,” he admitted quietly. “That’s the weird part. Sometimes I think I remember it, but then I realize I probably don’t. I remember falling. I remember the blood. I remember…”
His fingers curled into his palms.
“What you said.” Fushiguro didn’t say anything. His eyes were glued to the floor.
Yuuji swallowed. “Sometimes I dream about it and it’s like I’m actually there again. I can feel it. The cold and everything. And then I wake up and for a second I forget that I’m alive.”
The room was silent, owls hooting from outside his open window, the clock ticking.
“It’s stupid, right?”
“No.”
Yuuji looked at him. Fushiguro was staring straight ahead, his eyes blurry, unfocused. Something unusual. It was rare to see Fushiguro chill; he was always alert, on edge. It felt private, personal. Like a bubble Yuuji was allowed into.
“It isn’t stupid.” Fushiguro repeated.
“Oh.”
“You died.”
Yuuji flinched slightly. Fushiguro noticed, like always. “Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
“No. That was insensitive.”
Yuuji smiled weakly. “You’re really bad at this, you know.”
“I know.” He sighed, Yuuji chuckling.
“Sometimes, I wonder how you just skimmed past it, like it was nothing. I mean, you died. But, I guess I got my answer tonight.”
For a while, neither of them said anything. Yuuji had the urge to lean sideways, and so he did. Just a little, his shoulder bumping against Fushiguro’s.
He expected him to move. Fushiguro was never one to initiate physical contact, usually flinching like he was electrocuted. This time, he stayed. So, Yuuji was content.
“Fushi?”
“What?”
“Can I stay here for a bit?”
Fushiguro looked at him.
Yuuji immediately added, “You don’t have to do anything! I won’t bother you. I’ll just sit here. I can sleep on the floor or something.”
“The floor?” Fushiguro deadpanned.
“Yeah.”
“Idiot.” He scoffed.
Yuuji frowned. “That’s mean.”
“Take the bed.”
“What?”
“I’m not sleeping on the floor either.”
“You mean…”
Fushiguro shifted on the bed, inching further towards the wall, leaving enough space beside him.
“You can stay.”
Yuuji stared at the empty space. Then at Fushiguro.
“If you want.”
“Really?” Yuuji’s eyes glowed.
“It’s not a big deal.”
It was. Yuuji knew it was. The only person Fushiguro had done this with was his sister, if they ever did something like this. But neither of them said anything.
Yuuji climbed onto the bed, carefully settling beside him. He pulled the blanket over himself, soft and fluffy, carefully making sure not to invade Fushiguro’s personal space on the small bed.
Fushiguro inched over him, his torso infinitely close to Yuuji’s face, in order to close the bedside lamp. Yuuji wanted to bring him closer, his face next to his-
Huh?
Yuuji shook his head and stared at the ceiling. Fushiguro had those glow-in-the-dark stickers everyone used to have in elementary school. A moon, orbited by a dozen stars. It provided just enough light in order not to get absorbed by the darkness of the room.
Fushiguro probably liked his room pitch black. His window was open, allowing air to go in, but the blinds were shut. So, apart from the stickers, the room seemed empty. Pure darkness.
His heart was still beating too quickly. He wondered if Fushiguro could hear it. It was so loud. He could hear the blood rushing through the arteries, through his hands and legs.
“Try to sleep.” He advised, scratching behind his earlobe, barely containing a yawn.
“Okay.”
“And Itadori?”
“Yeah?”
“If you have another nightmare, wake me up.”
Yuuji’s throat tightened.
“Even if it’s really late?” He whispered.
“It’s already really late.”
“Oh.” A pause. “Right.” Yuuji smiled into the darkness.
“Thanks, Fushi.”
“Go to sleep.”
“Goodnight.”
“…Goodnight.”
-⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 -
This was awkward as hell.
At least for Yuuji it was.
He had absolutely no idea what to do with himself.
He was lying beside Fushiguro, under Fushiguro’s blanket, in Fushiguro’s bed, in Fushiguro’s room, at some ungodly hour of the night.
There were approximately a thousand things wrong with this situation.
For one, Fushiguro was right there. Not even a meter away from him, sleeping contently. Yuuji could hear him breathing. That was the main problem.
He could hear everything.
The quiet rise and fall of Fushiguro’s chest. The faint rustle of the sheets whenever he moved. The occasional hum of the air conditioner. Somewhere outside, an owl hooted again, followed by the distant sound of a car passing by.
Yuuji stared at the ceiling. He had been staring at it for at least five minutes. The moon was sewn into the back of his eyelids. The stars orbiting, like a galaxy.
Yuuji knew that those stars were originally yellow, but probably became green over time. One of them was the same shade as Fushiguro’s eyes.
That’s his second problem. He kept thinking about Fushiguro.
He could hear Fushiguro. He could practically feel Fushiguro. And he was so close that if he turned to the side, despite the darkness, he could hypothetically see Fushiguro.
Screw that, he craved to see Fushiguro.
Yuuji turned his head slightly.
Fushiguro was facing the opposite direction, his back toward Yuuji. What a shame. His hair was sticking up even more than usual, which Yuuji found weirdly funny. He looked so different when he was asleep, or at least when he was trying to sleep.
Less intimidating.
He suddenly remembered one Friday evening, when he and Kugisaki were off on solo missions, and Fushiguro was kept in the dorms since he had caught the flu.
Despite his whining (not that Fushiguro would admit he whined) to Gojo-sensei about ‘being just fine’ and that he ‘was overreacting,’ in the end, he was forced to stay inside.
Kugisaki had opened the door only to coo in aggression, since Fushiguro had fallen asleep on the couch, curled up on the side, a blanket thrown over him (probably by Gojo-sensei).
At the time, Kugisaki kept looking at him and back at Fushiguro with those eyes. He never understood why.
He immediately frowned. Why was he thinking about that? He turned back toward the ceiling.
This was ridiculous. He was acting like he had never shared a bed with another person before.
He had slept next to his grandpa countless times as a kid. He had slept on couches, floors, hotel rooms, trains, cars, anywhere that was remotely comfortable enough to close his eyes.
He even slept next to Kugisaki and Fushiguro in Ijichi’s car, for god’s sake. This shouldn’t have been different.
He shifted beneath the blanket. Fushiguro moved. Yuuji froze.
“…Are you awake?” Yuuji whispered, barely audible.
No response.
He carefully turned onto his side, facing Fushiguro again. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness by now. He could make out the vague shape of Fushiguro’s shoulders, the messy outline of his hair.
Yuuji wondered what he was dreaming about. Probably nothing. Fushiguro seemed like the type of person who didn’t dream. Or, if he did, his dreams were probably boring. He probably dreamed about the literature books he read. Or slow evenings with his sister. Maybe even kicking Gojo-sensei’s ass. That sounded about right.
Yuuji smiled again. Then his smile faded. The nightmare suddenly came back to him. Not all of it, just a piece.
Fushiguro’s face.
“And just so you know,” Fushiguro whispered, his voice trembling, his hands dropping from the fighting stance and finally making eye contact with Sukuna.
“I’m not a hero. I’m a Jujutsu sorcerer.” His face was calm, features blending perfectly, in harmony.
Those beautiful eyes were already grieving Yuuji, but they showed no regret.
“I never regretted saving you. Not once.”
Yuuji shot his eyes open, breathing irregularly against Fushiguro’s face. He was so close. The horrible, empty sensation in his chest, in addition to his stomach twisting, gave him the urge to throw up. Yuuji squeezed his eyes shut.
No.
He wasn’t going to think about it. He was safe. He was alive. He was in Fushiguro’s room.
Yuuji took a slow breath. His heart was still beating too fast. He hated this. He hated how something that had already happened could still make him feel like it was happening again.
He hated how his own brain could betray him. He hated how helpless he felt.
Most of all, he hated that Fushiguro was probably going to notice. Because Fushiguro noticed everything.
Yuuji squeezed his eyes shut tighter. Maybe if he pretended hard enough, he’d fall asleep.
“Itadori.”
Yuuji’s eyes snapped open.
“Yeah?” He whispered.
“You keep moving.”
“Oh.”
A pause.
“Sorry.”
“Stop apologizing.”
“Right.”
Another pause.
“Sorry.”
Fushiguro sighed. “Are you okay?” He slightly sat up on the bed, just enough to be able to monitor Yuuji’s expression. He did that a lot.
Yuuji stared at his covered legs.
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah.”
Fushiguro was quiet. Yuuji could practically feel him staring.
“You suck at lying.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
“I’ve lied to Gojo-sensei before.”
“My five-year-old sister did that daily. That’s not impressive.”
Yuuji snorted. Fushiguro laid back down next to him. His eyes were half-open, barely visible in the darkness. But they glowed.
“You don’t have to sleep.”
Yuuji blinked.
“What?”
“If you can’t.”
“Oh.”
Fushiguro shifted, resting his head against his pillow.
“You can just stay awake. With me. If you want.”
Yuuji stared at him. Fushiguro broke eye contact, staring at the ceiling.
Fushiguro really had a way with words. It was such a simple thing to say, but somehow, it made his chest ache.
“You don’t mind?”
“No.”
“Even though I’m keeping you awake?”
“I was already awake.”
“You were sleeping.”
“I was trying to sleep.”
“Same thing.”
“No, it isn’t.”
Yuuji smiled.
Fushiguro sighed.
“I sometimes have nightmares too.” He confessed. Yuuji moved closer.
“Ehh? You? What could possibly scare you?”
Fushiguro contemplated for a second.
“Probably Tsumiki not waking up. Anyway, that’s not the point. I want to say that it’s okay to have nightmares.”
Yuuji nodded.
“Okay.”
“You can come to me when you can’t sleep.”
Thump.
Yuuji gulped. “Okay.”
“You know,” Yuuji whispered, “I used to sleep with my grandpa when I had nightmares.”
Fushiguro’s expression softened.
“Yeah?”
“Yeah. I’d just walk into his room. Didn’t even ask.”
“That sounds annoying.”
“I was a kid!”
“Still.”
Yuuji lightly shoved his shoulder. Fushiguro barely moved.
“My grandpa always complained,” Yuuji continued. “He’d be like, ‘Again?’ and I’d say yes, and he’d sigh like I was the biggest inconvenience in his life.”
“You probably were.”
“Fushi.”
“I’m just saying.”
Yuuji laughed quietly.
“But he’d always move over.”
Fushiguro didn’t say anything.
“He never actually told me I could stay. He’d just move.” Yuuji stared at the ceiling.
“I think that’s what I liked about it.”
“What?”
“That he didn’t make me ask.”
The words came out quieter than he wanted. Fushiguro’s eyes scanned over his face. Yuuji swallowed.
“I guess tonight reminded me of that.”
There was a long silence. The owls had gone quiet. Or Yuuji just stopped paying attention to them. Then Fushiguro spoke.
“My sister used to have nightmares. About stupid things, like her dolls being decapitated. I was always annoyed at her, since I really liked sleeping as a kid. I regret that now.”
Yuuji understood. He didn’t know what to say, so he hoped his presence was enough, like Fushiguro’s was for him.
“You don’t have to ask next time.”
Yuuji turned his head.
“What?”
“If you have a nightmare.”
“Oh.”
“You can just come over.”
Yuuji stared at him.
Fushiguro looked almost annoyed, as if he couldn’t understand why Yuuji was making such a big deal about it.
“I don’t have to knock?”
“I’d prefer if you did.”
Yuuji laughed.
“Okay.”
“Just don’t stand outside my door for five minutes debating whether to come in.”
“I did not do that.”
“You did.”
“How would you know?”
“I could hear you.”
Yuuji’s mouth fell open. He could hear him? And just left him standing there? What the hell. Wait. Why was Fushiguro even awake at this hour?
“You were awake?”
“No.”
“Then how did you-”
“I wake up easily.”
Yuuji narrowed his eyes.
“You could’ve opened the door earlier.”
“I was lazy.”
“You made me stand there!”
“You were the one standing there.”
Yuuji stared at him. Fushiguro stared back. Then Yuuji started laughing. He had to cover his mouth with his hand so he wouldn’t wake up Kugisaki.
Fushiguro looked at him like he was an idiot. Maybe he was an idiot. If he confirmed Fushiguro’s body language at that moment, he would say just that.
“You really are stupid.” Bingo.
“You’re mean to me, Fushi. So mean.”
“You knew that already.”
Yuuji’s laughter slowly died down. The room became quiet again. But this time, it didn’t feel uncomfortable. Yuuji looked at the ceiling one more time.
His chest didn’t feel quite as tight anymore. The nightmare was still there, somewhere in the back of his mind. He knew it hadn’t disappeared; it was impossible to forget. Maybe it never would.
But right now, it wasn’t the only thing he could think about.
He could think about Megumi. What a pretty name. Blessing. He was Yuuji’s blessing. In this jujutsu world, the blessing he needed.
Yuuji slowly closed his eyes. For once, after a nightmare, he didn’t feel the need to force himself awake, he didn’t need to grab his phone or turn on the television. He could just sleep. With Fushiguro.
Maybe he’d dream. About Fushiguro.
He could also stay awake. With Fushiguro.
“Fushi?” He hummed.
“If I wake you up, don’t get mad.” Yuuji whined, while Fushiguro’s eyes remained closed.
“I won’t.”
“Promise?” A pause. Fushiguro opened one eye.
“Promise.” Yuuji smiled. His cheeks hurt from smiling.
“Okay.”
Fushiguro closed his eye again.
“Pinky promise?” The boy groaned when Yuuji stuck his pinky out in front of his face.
“Pinky promise. Go to sleep, Itadori.”
“Okay!”
-⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢 -
“Just so you know,” Beautiful emerald eyes stared back at his amber ones, the red fading from the iris, sliding down his chest.
“I never regretted saving you. Not once.” A blur of an image, black messy hair, red patches over porcelain skin, a dusted uniform, and bright green flooding his vision.
“I never regretted saving you.”
“I never regretted saving you, Itadori.”
“I… regretted… never… Itadori.”
“I… Itadori…”
“Itadori…”
“Itadori!”
Yuuji stood up, panting, cold sweat dripping down his forehead. His breathing was unstable, his clothes were suffocating him.
“Itadori. Are you okay?” Fushiguro sat up next to him, a hand softly patting his back. He removed the covers, allowing Yuuji to breathe.
“Wait. I’ll bring you water.” Fushiguro strolled over to his desk, where next to it sat a small fridge, taking a water bottle and walking back to the bed.
“Here. Drink some.”
Yuuji accepted the water with grace, the cold liquid calming him down.
“Thank you.” His voice was hoarse, like sandpaper on wood. His head was pounding.
Another nightmare. This one was definitely from Sukuna’s memories. He never remembered Fushiguro’s words so vibrantly until now.
Fushiguro sighed, for the nth time that night.
“Look, you’re not going to sleep if you don’t say what’s on your mind.” He explained, attempting to persuade Yuuji.
“It’s not important.” Yuuji shook him off, covering himself with the blanket again.
“Since you have four nightmares a night, I think it is.” Fushiguro contradicted, his voice hinting at annoyance.
“It’ll blow over. I’ll forget it.”
“You won’t.” Fushiguro exhaled.
“I will.”
“No, you won’t.”
“Can you just drop it?” Yuuji whined, turning around to face Fushiguro.
“No, I can’t. You came over to my room at a godly hour of the night, your eyes demanding comfort like a kicked puppy. How do you expect me to just ignore it when-”
“I keep thinking about what you said!” Itadori exploded, panting.
“Huh?”
“What you said. Before I died.” Yuuji whispered.
“At Sukuna?” He ponders.
“That you never regretted saving me. I don’t understand it.”
“What do you mean you don’t understand it?”
“How can you not regret it? I brought chaos into your life. You have the vessel of possibly the strongest sorcerer in your bed right now, said sorcerer who almost killed you.” Yuuji palmed at his eye, face red from his exploding emotions.
“Well, I don’t. I told you. I don’t regret it.” Fushiguro repeated, like the words were sewn on his tongue.
“How?”
“I just don’t.”
“You’re so weird, Fushiguro.”
“How am I weird? Do you want me to keep a grudge against you for the rest of our lives?”
“That’d be more reasonable, at least!”
“Well, I am not reasonable then!”
“That’s stupid! I literally ruined your life. How do you not regret that-”
“Because I like you!”
Fushiguro froze, as if the words coming out of his mouth shocked him, like they shocked Yuuji. He opened his mouth, no sound coming out, and closed it again.
“What?” Yuuji whispered, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“I like you. Ever since you saved me on that rooftop. That’s why I don’t regret it.”
Silence filled the room. Fushiguro fell on his pillow, hand combing through his spiky hair, contemplating his life choices (said life choices were to summon Mahoraga and wipe out himself and Yuuji in one go).
“Okay. I think I like you too.” Fushiguro sat up again, his head getting whiplash by the sudden movement.
“I think I just realised why I’ve been feeling weird around you.” Yuuji murmured, voice quiet, as if he was talking to himself.
“What do you mean you just realised?” Fushiguro groaned, eyes widening in disbelief.
“What?” Yuuji raised his hands in surrender. “Let me off the hook!”
“I’ve been pining for months just for you to just reali-”
Soft lips enclosed his, effectively shutting him up, warmth filling his mouth.
Holy shit, he just kissed Megumi.
“Can you forgive my obliviousness, Megumi?” Yuuji patted his lashes, fake-pouting.
“Shut up.” Megumi murmured, his cheeks coated by a slight pink, barely visible in the darkness.
“You’re so mean to me!”
“You like me, though.”
“You liked me first! Hey, does that mean I can call you Megumi?”
Megumi sighed, like a full-on-body sigh, before agreeing. Yuuji raised his fist in a winning stance, and Megumi hit the back of his head.
“Let’s sleep. We have training in the morning.”
“But I can’t sleep, Megumi~” Yuuji whined, falling onto the bed dramatically. “I need to be cuddled.”
“Please tell me that’s not the reason you can’t fall asleep.” Megumi groaned, pinching the space between his eyebrows.
Yuuji giggled, patting his knee. “Nah, but I want cuddles.”
“Sure, whatever.” Megumi sighed, flopping over next to Yuuji, who excitedly wrapped his arms and legs around the boy.
“Hey, Megumi.”
“What now, Itadori?”
“Call me by my given name too! Also, does that mean we are boyfriends-”
“Go to sleep, Yuuji.”
-⋆‧°𓏲ּ𝄢-
Early in the morning, a non-suspecting Gojo Satoru walks by the first-years’ dormitory, planning the most devious way to wake up his little gremlins.
Starting with the grumpiest of the three, he opens the door just to find two people instead of one on Megumi’s bed, limbs tangled in a way you couldn’t tell whose were whose (if it weren’t for Yuuji’s obnoxious Spider-Man pyjamas).
His plan has gone to waste. He can’t wake up these precious lovebirds!
So, instead, he takes a picture, sends it to Nobara, and closes the door.