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Fushiguro Megumi: I will not be attending class today, I don’t feel well, please excuse my absence.
Gojo Sensei: oh nooooo we’ll cancel class today and i’ll send your classmates to bring you some medicine
Fushiguro Megumi: Thank you, but it’s really not that bad. Just a headache. I’ll probably be fine by tomorrow.
Gojo Sensei sent four ‘Sad Kitten’ gifs in chat. Megumi Fushiguro read them and then closed the chat.
Fushiguro sighed, dropping his head back onto his pillow and covering his eyes with his forearm. The migraine wasn’t unexpected; he’d felt the telltale spikes of pain behind his eyes last night, the dull ache creeping up the back of his skull, but he’d tried to shrug it off, drinking extra water and asking Kugisaki for some of her ibuprofen. She’d raised an eyebrow, but given him the two tiny pills once he’d explained the situation. He knew Itadori had some in his room, but Kugisaki asked fewer questions whenever he needed help with things like that. Itadori always wanted to…help more. In the end, it wouldn’t have mattered where he’d gotten them from: he still woke up with a splitting migraine, the kind that made him wish he could separate his head from his body.
He was going to miss class today, something he hated doing—his sister had instilled in him since before he could remember that school was super important, that studying was the key to unlocking everything he would want to do after his days as a jujitsu sorcerer were complete.
Not that he gave much thought to that topic these days. His schoolwork and trianing seemed endless, and the topic of ‘life after school’ had become one saved for conversation on his trios’ rare trips into Tokyo for ramen and groceries. Kugisaki, on one such occasion, had once asked him and Itadori what they wanted to do once they’d graduated. Itadori had just gotten that big grin on his face, the same one that so often lit up his features, the one that more often than not caused a pull in Fushiguros’ chest. He’d just grinned and said, “I want to help people!” Before he’d been able to stop himself, Fushiguro had suggested he become a firefighter. Kugisaki had laughed, but Itadori had turned to him like he’d hung the fucking moon.
“That’s a great idea, Fushiguro—kun! Maybe I can do that. What about you?” Fushiguro had shrugged it off, turning away so his two closest friends couldn’t see his face heat up. How embarassing.
Itadori had been seeming to have that effect on him more and more lately. He was like a human ray of sunshine, Fushiguro thought to himself. It really didn’t make any sense, that the vessel of Sukuna, King of Curses, would be so happy-go-lucky. He was essentially the opposite of Fushiguro, who was so dour and nonchalant almost all of the time that even Kugisaki, who was somewhat melodramatic herself, made fun of him for it.
Fushiguro lay in silence (save the whir of his air conditioning unit) in his dark room for about another hour without interruption. His headache remained, and despite the few sips of water, the pain didn’t lessen. He groaned to himself, curling into his side to face the wall of his room, when he heard a soft knock at the door.
“Fushiguro-kun?” Came a soft voice. Despite the darkness, Fushiguros’ eyes shot open. Itadori.
“Is it alright if I come in?” Itadori asked. “I brought you some more medicine, Kugisaki said you’d asked for ibuprofen last night—oh, and I also got some water, and that flavour of ramen you like, from the shop downtown? Um, I guess I can leave them out here—“
“No,” Fushiguro said, too quickly. Itadori paused immediatly, and Fushiguro took the moment of silence to push himself into a sitting position on his bed. His head screamed in protest at the movement but he did it anyways. “Itadori, you can…bring it in, if you want.”
“Okay!” Itadori chirped. Leaving his slippers in the hallway, Itadori gently pushed open the door and then closed it just as gently behind him. He paused to let his eyes adjust to the dimness of Fushiuros’ room, which they did quickly, before quickly crossing the room and taking a seat at Fushiguros’ chair, right at his bedside.
“Here’s the stuff,” he said proudly, placing the tray on Fushiguros’ desk. “Drink some of the water before you take the ibuprofen, okay?”
Fushiguro nodded, and tried (and failed) to conceal the wince the motion gave him. He reached for the glass of water when a hand shot out and grabbed his wrist. He jerked his head (prompting another wince) to see Itadori watching him with worried, attentive eyes. Those eyes…they were almost beautiful…
“Do you want me to help you, Fushiguro? To, um, to take a drink?” Fushiguro stared at him, and Itadori began to blush under the scrutiny. Fushiguro barely heard what his best friend was rambling about as he felt the tug in his chest get stronger.
“I just meant, um, well, I saw that you made a face when you had to move…I guess the headache is pretty bad, huh? So, um, if you want me to help you take a drink, like, to make sure it doesn’t spill—“
“Okay.” Itadori blinked, leaning back a bit but keeping his fingers clenched around Megumis’ wrist.
“Okay? Like, it’s okay?” Itadori confirmed, a boyish smile curving across his cheeks. Fushiguros’ face heated, far too fast for him to conceal, and he just nodded. Itadori wasted no time, grabbing the glass of cool water and shifting to perch on the edge of Fushiguros’ mattress. Finally releasing his hold on Fushiguros’ wrist, he instead used it to grip Fushiguros’ chin, and tilted the other boys face back a bit before placing the glass at his lips. Fushiguros’ brain began to meltdown, as flashes of visions he’d never dard let himself imagine began to assault his mind at dizzying speed. Itadori clutching hips face, Itadori pressing his lips to his, Itadori looking down on him, the both of them panting—
“Nice and slow, okay? I don’t want you to choke,” Itadori said in a low voice. Of course, hearing such a sentence had the opposite intended affect on Fushiguro, who immediatly did a spit take and turned away from Itadori, rushing to readjust the blankets over his lap. Shit, shit, shit, he doesn’t even know what he’s doing.
Itadori, angel that he was, didn’t complain or shout at all, just wiped his face and uniform off as best he could, and replaced the glass of water back on the desk. “Maybe it’s best for you to just nap some more, huh?” He suggested. Was that…sadness in his tone? “I’ll leave you be. If you want, Kugisaki and I can swing back later and—“
“No.”
“What?”
“No, I…want you to stay.”
Fushiguro had no idea where the words came from. He wanted Itadori to stay, yes, desperately, but he wasn’t exactly keen on baring his soul for his friend to see. Plus, such a request could be taken a multitude of ways. Fushiguro, blaming his somewhat lessened migraine, all of a sudden desperately did want Itadori beside him in bed. But surely, it couldn’t be returned. Surely Itadori would laugh at him, or call him a—
“Okay!” Fushiguro could have been knocked over with a feather. Itadori sat back down on the side of Fushiguros’ mattress, giving him such a kind and honest expression he nearly cried. “Do you want me to…is it okay if I lay down?”
Acutely aware of the problem he was still dealing with downstairs, Fushiguro stumbled over his words for a moment before replying, “Y-yes, that’s fine.” Face turned away and hair mussed to conceal his blush, Fushiguro scooted over closer to the wall and turned his back to Itadori. His close friend didn’t seem to mind, wasting no time in lying down next to him and taking the liberty of pulling the blanket over both of the boys.
“Did you want me to set an alarm?” Itadori whispered. Fushiguro barely suppressed a shudder at the feeling of warm breath on the back of his neck. He almost forgot to reply, the words dying a few times in his throat.
“No, that’s alright.” Fushiguro closed his eyes, relishing the personal heater (a real life ray of sunshine) that had somehow found its’ way beside him. His head still ached, yes, but the pain was somehow duller now.
Then, without warning, he felt a weight fall across his waist. His eyes shot down, and his eyebrows shot up.
It was Itadoris’ arm.
“Is this okay?” The boy whispered. This time, Fushiguro made no attempt to conceal the shiver that went through his whole body at the sensation. Chocking it up to his headache, Fushiguro reached down an arm and clutched Itadoris’ closer to his chest, inadvertently pulling his friend up closer behind him.
“Yes,” he rasped out. Rather than get mad, or say something, Fushiguro just felt his friend nod against his back, before gently tucking his other arm around Fushiguros’ shoulders, so that Itadori was laying with his arms around him. Feeling drunk off the heat and closeness, for the first time in what felt like eons since the headache had started, Fushiguro felt sleep creep across his mind.
The last thing he felt before he succumbed entirely to unconsciousness was a soft pressure, a featherlight kiss pressed against the back of his left shoulder.
“Sleep well, Fushiguro—kun.”