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Grief comes in many forms. Some cry, others withhold anger inside them. And there are also those who choose not to acknowledge it, if only to stop the pain from pooling like blood out of an open wound.
Itadori Yuuji falls into the latter.
Turns out, immortality does that to you, but there's a part of him that knows he's always been that way, even before he discovered the defect in his aging.
Defect.
It only made sense—ignore the pain, and it would go away. God, how wrong he was.
Yuuji has no idea how long it's been since he last saw his friends, his family. He has no idea how long it's been since he's seen Satoru, or Nobara, or Megumi... with so much time having passed, it feels like the people he once loved are merely a fever dream, if it weren't for the fucking hell he endured, he might believe that.
He can't simply ignore the loss of the people who once filled his heart with such joy, can't ignore the empty pit inside him that aches for that warmth... that warmth that fills his lungs—spreads to his brain like oxygen. A lifeline.
When was the last time he felt that warmth?
These are the same thoughts that spiral within him day in and day out. The curse of immortality.
Crippling loneliness. Isolation.
How long has it been?
He remembers the exact moment he couldn't ignore the hurt within him anymore. It had come crashing in like a tide—all his darkest emotions consuming what he thought were the strongest parts of him.
It had been two months since Nobara died. An average day, really, yet not at all. Such a mindless action, picking up the phone to call one of your closest friends, tell them about your day, reminisce with them, only to realize they are no longer around. The pain had felt like his lungs were collapsing, he cried—heaved. He broke. He ripped at his hair. He wonders how many times he had screamed that night, wonders at what point the screams had turned into desperate pleas. That night was so, so long ago, so many years ago, he doesn't remember.
As time goes on, leaving Yuuji in the past, the years seem to blur together.
Why him?
That too, he often asks himself.
What exactly did he do to deserve any of this?
He hates those kinds of questions though. He hates the pity he offers to himself. He lived after all, he should be grateful, no?
He doesn't like to think about that.
He misses his family.
࿐
It’s past midnight. Yuuji wakes with a desperate gasp. He claws at his bare chest. He's drenched in a cold sweat. He feels like a fire that's been doused in water over and over and over again, yet he won't go out. Won't die.
immortality.
It was another one of those nights. Those nights where all Yuuji sees is Megumi, Megumi who he loved—loves. Megumi who is covered in these wretched marks, Megumi who drowns in this seemingly black emptiness. Megumi who screams and reaches out for anything to grasp onto as the darkness drowns out any cries for help in this dream. Yuuji doesn't really know what the dream means.
No, he doesn't want to know.
He knows what it means.
All his fault, all his fault, all his fault
He slowly, so slowly drags his hands down his face, his pace quickens as he rakes his hands through his sweaty pink hair. He's frantically running his calloused hands all over his body, the solid muscle that seems so useless now. The gold skin scarred and rough. He feels himself. He's not real. He doesn't feel real.
He's real. This is real.
These nights are repetitive, Yuuji has developed a schedule in a sense. After the nightmares, he takes a cold shower, tells himself it will make him feel something. It doesn't. After his shower, he drinks water. He's never thirsty but it's good for him apparently. After water, he reads something. Usually, it's books based on nature and science, outdated and dusty. The books don't interest him. He wishes they did.
They were Megumi's.
He doesn't like to think about that.
He thinks about it a lot.
Yuuji glances at his nightstand, where a picture frame lies facedown. It's funny how many photos Yuuji has of him and his friends, funny because even with so many, he can't fucking stand looking at them. It hurts.
That's the only thing he feels. Pain. He desperately wants to feel something else—anything.
He's so tired of being here.
It will never end, he reminds himself.
Never.
࿐
When Yuuji talks to strangers, a small fire ignites inside him, it whispers you should get to know them better, they could be your friend.
The light is put out immediately.
There is no point in making friends if you only live to watch them die. They'll move on while he stays here.
Here here here.
Sometimes he wonders what he's still doing here. What's his purpose for being here?
Perhaps it's fate. This is his destiny. To rot forever. Rot with the world while everyone else starts a new beginning.
He remembers his beginning. Starting off as a sorcerer really put things in motion, it seemed fun at first. Kill off evil, be the light that everyone needs. It wasn't fun, he was too optimistic.
It's been so long since then. Such distant memories. How long has it been?
Fifty, seventy, eighty, a hundred, three hundred, a thousand years? surely not.
It feels like it.
He feels like he's going insane. He's not insane. He feels like he's losing it. He's not. Maybe he is. He doesn't know anymore.
࿐
The sky is painted in an array of different colors. Hues of oranges, yellows, pinks and purples...
The sun is setting. It's beautiful. It's as beautiful as the boy beside Yuuji.
They lay on the grass. Megumi’s hair whips lightly in the wind. The sunset adorns him in this golden light. The wisps of his bangs fall into his eyes, his pretty green eyes, they contrast well with the sky.
Yuuji shifts closer to him in the grass, their faces inches from each other, breaths mingling, mixing, with the spring air. Yuuji sweeps the hair out of Megumi's face, revealing his mossy eyes once more. They match the grass. They're beautiful.
Megumi is beautiful. There's something different about him in this dream than there is in others. Megumi's face is hardened in certain places; firm lines crease his face. He looks so young yet so manly all the same. An almost boyish youth embodying the grown man in front of him now. It fits him.
"Itadori?" Megumi whispers.
"What's up?" Yuuji stares at the sky.
"What's on your mind?" Megumi's tone isn't accusing; it's a soft, almost absentminded question.
Megumi knows Yuuji well. Like it’s as easy as breathing.
Yuuji knows Megumi well.
"Nothing." He means it. He thinks he means it. Something pulls at his chest. Something off that he doesn't want to acknowledge. This isn't right. It feels right.
Megumi shifts, allowing himself to be closer to Yuuji. They were already so close. Somehow, they're closer.
Closer.
It feels nice, the warmth is nice,
"I don't think so." Megumi says. He’s outlining Yuuji's face, the curves of his jaw, the ridges of his nose, the creases in his eyes.
"Why?"
"I'm not sure, you just seem distant."
A smile tugs at Yuuji's lips. Megumi's tracing tickles. It's nice. He puts a finger to Megumi's lips "I'm alright Fushiguro, I'm happy to be here with you" He enunciates the last word like it's sacred, savoring the way it tastes on his tongue.
Yuuji removes his finger. Megumi exhales before leaning in. Yuuji watches him as he does, his eyes close before his lips meet Megumi’s halfway. Megumi's lips are soft, so soft. It feels so real.
࿐
Yuuji wishes it was real. He hates that it's not. He's surprised that even after all this time, He likes that the dream emphasizes details that Yuuji never wants to forget about Megumi.
His eyes, the way he smells, how soft his hair is, the shape of his face.
All of it, he’s scared he’ll forget one day.
It’s almost scary that he can still dream about Megumi in that kind of way. Surprised that he still feels those things for him.
Yuuji never told Megumi how he felt—feels. He wonders a lot. He wonders if Megumi ever felt the same. He doubts it, but then again Nobara always used to drop hints. Hints that suggested maybe, just maybe Megumi felt the same way.
He doubts it.
He doesn't want to doubt it.
It doesn't matter now. He'll never know. Megumi's gone.
Gone gone gone.
At some point in his life, a long time ago, Yuuji wondered what it would feel like to be gone. to be forgotten.
Ironic.
You can't necessarily be forgotten if you live forever. Maybe you can. He wishes he could be forgotten. Wishes he could disappear. he wonders how he can, he still wonders, even though he's tried multiple times, so many fucking times to disappear. It never worked.
Yuuji would never forget his family. He tells himself that. He doesn't want to forget them. They're too important.
He wonders where they are now, if they've forgotten about him. He hopes not.
A part of Yuuji wishes he had never met Satoru or Nobara or Megumi, or anyone really. What's the point if something so good, so absolutely amazing, would just be ripped from his hands. Like a bird learning how to fly, then being caged the next day. That taste of freedom evaporating right before his eyes.
Is death considered freedom? he asks himself.
He wouldn't know. He'll never know.
࿐
Whenever Yuuji has dreams like the one he had about Megumi and him in the field of grass, he wishes he'd never wake up. wishes that he could live in that dream forever.
It's foolish.
in a sense it's like he's dreaming now. At what point will he wake up and accept reality? Even after all these years.
He misses the feeling of touch.
Immortality. Yes, it's as if it's a really long, grueling, painful, hellish, lonely, lonely, lonely dream. so fucking lonely.
Yuuji cries. He cries often. He cries in his bed. Sometimes it feels like he's run out of tears. He's never out of tears. He's not sure why he cries, has no idea how it helps. It doesn't really. But it feels nice, sort of.
He misses the sound of laughter.
It's better now, he used to not let himself cry, he didn't want to. Now, he hates and loves the way tears prick at his eyes. It's weird. He's weird. He feels weird.
He misses Megumi.
࿐
Sharp knocks erupt at the door "Early training today!" Gojo chirps from the hall. Yuuji groans but manages to pull himself out of bed, brush his teeth, put on his uniform. His routine.
He walks out of his room, scanning the hallway for any signs of his classmates. He spots Megumi coming out of his own dorm, already in his uniform.
"Fushiguro!" Yuuji exclaims, catching up to the raven-haired boy, matching his pace. "It's gonna be a good day, yeah?" Yuuji says, stretching his arms behind his neck. Megumi grunts in response.
Suddenly Yuuji feels his body being shoved away "You guys ready to kick some ass today?" Nobara announces, parting Yuuji and Megumi.
"Morning to you too, Kugisaki." Megumi responds. This is nice. Yuuji enjoys these small moments with his friends.
“Whats up kugisaki?!” Yuuji greets her enthusiastically.
Nobara hit him on the head in response “Oww what was that forrr?” Yuuji whines, rubbing the back of his head.
“Nothing, just felt like it.” Nobara grins, flicking her copper hair behind her shoulder.
Yuuji pouts “Whatever.”
He’s not mad, of course he’s not. He wouldn’t give up these moments for anything.
"Hey, do you guys wanna see a movie after training?" Yuuji asks.
"Not if it's Human Earthman." Nobara replies.
"It's called Human Earthworm, and I was gonna let you guys’ pick!" Yuuji looks at his classmates—his friends. He thinks he's lucky, so lucky to have them. He is.
Nobara looks from Yuuji to Megumi. "Sure, why not?" Nobara answers, offering Yuuji a playful slap across his shoulder.
"I'm down," Megumi responds with a shrug.
Yuuji smiles, a wide smile. Megumi told him once that his smile was blinding. Yuuji would be lying if he said those words didn't give him butterflies, didn't make blush creep across his face. “Sounds cool!"
࿐
Yuuji is crying again. He isn’t in the mood to. He doesn't want to cry, but he is. He doesn't know why. The tears streaming down his face. He cracks his knuckles. He's sitting at his desk, with a piece of paper and a pen accompanying him. The words written on the white sheet are meaningless, maybe they aren't... but they are confusing, all messy and jumbled. Those are his thoughts after all.
He writes to distract himself when he cries. Sometimes he writes about nothing, other times he writes to himself. More often than not, though, he writes to Megumi. He tells Megumi everything, how his day is going, how he feels, he even expresses all his words left unsaid.
I love you.
Yuuji writes that a lot. He wonders if writing it so much makes it seem cheap, but he just wants Megumi to know that he means it. He loved—loves Megumi. Writing it makes up for all the times he wanted—so desperately wanted to say it, but never did.
He's ashamed he never did.
Would Megumi say it back?
Yuuji pushes his chair back, wiping away the tears once more. He examines himself in the mirror, really looks at himself. He wears his hair pushed back. He thinks it makes him look older. His eyes look tired. He's not, really, but his eyes say he is. Tired of living is what they seem to say. Of course, nobody would ever be able to tell that just by looking at his eyes. He wishes they would. He wishes that people would just be able to understand how unhappy he is right now.
He misses his family.
࿐
All three of them lay in Megumi's bed. They're watching some kind of comedy movie, something Megumi recommended that Nobara and Yuuji went along with. The movies on movie nights are never really the main focus. The three talk too much, talk to each other about anything and everything. It's mostly Yuuji talking to Nobara. Megumi likes to listen; he likes to insert his own opinions and thoughts at times.
"Have you guys ever wondered what it's like after death?" Yuuji suddenly asks. He has no idea where the question comes from, has no idea why he even asked it. His friends look at him as if he has three heads on his shoulders.
"The hell? What kind of question is that?" Nobara says, picking at her nails.
"I'm with Kugisaki on this one, dude," Megumi states matter of factly, bewildered by Yuuji's question.
Yuuji feels embarrassed, but these are his closest friends. They won't really judge him, especially if he's serious about his question. "No, like, I'm being for real, y’know? Like, I've always wondered... being a sorcerer and all, I kinda think about it a lot. Does it not scare you guys?"
Nobara hums, looking up at the ceiling now as if in deep thought. Megumi is silent. He's gone stiff. "Well, to be honest with you, Itadori, I've always sort of seen death as just another part of life. It's something we all must experience one day, so why fear it? Life's a bitch anyway. As long as I don't die a coward, then I'd say I served my purpose," Nobara explains. She's digging into the bowl of popcorn that was full ten minutes ago.
Yuuji contemplates. He's fond of that answer, it makes sense to him. He admires Nobara's view on death, it makes the thought less scary. "What about you, Fushiguro?"
Megumi fidgets with the blanket, his movements are tense. His jaw ticks slightly before he replies. "Well, I guess I agree with Kugisaki. Death is just another path we all have to take. The thought has never particularly scared me."
There's something off in the green eyed boy's tone. There's an edge that wasn't there earlier. Yuuji wonders if he's made him uncomfortable. "Huh, man, I never really thought of it that way. You guys make it sound cool in a way... when the time comes, I don't want to die alone." Yuuji's words trail off. He's rambling and probably making his friends feel weird.
Nobara snickers. "Well, you've already died once on us. Let's hope it doesn't happen again for a very long time."
At that, Yuuji smiles. He likes how they can make fun of what happened not too long ago, likes that they can move past it. What he doesn't like is that Megumi was there when he died. It doesn't matter if Yuuji came back. It upsets him that Megumi had to watch it.
Yuuji often thinks he should apologize, then wonders what he would be apologizing for.
As long as it doesn't happen again, he supposes it doesn't really matter.
࿐
It would never happen again. Of course, they didn't know that at the time. Yuuji sits in his desk chair. It's almost hysterical. Back then, he didn't want to die, was terrified of the thought. It's so very different now. He hates it.
He knows it wouldn't be as bad if he had someone here with him. He knows even if Megumi can't be here, that at least Choso would have been able to live a long life with him. He misses Choso. He's one of the only people who can—could understand how he feels, what he's going through. Choso isn't here, though. No one is.
No one.
Yuuji has just finished writing another letter to Megumi. It's the kind of letter that expresses his guilt and shame, expresses his gratitude and love, all in one simple sheet of paper. It's not enough. He could probably write for the rest of his useless immortal life, and it would never, ever be enough.
It would never be enough.
He signs the letter, folds it, places it under his bed, where the rest of them reside. He has well over two hundred by now. He writes a lot. Writes so much.
It will never be enough.
Yuuji feels like he's losing it. He's not. He can't be. Yuuji feels like he's going insane. He's not. He can't be.
He doesn't want to.
Yuuji shuts off the lights, crawls under the covers, and lays in bed. He doesn't even like sleeping anymore. He dreams too much. The dreams are nice, too nice. He wants to stay in his dreams forever. He hates dreaming.
He doesn't want to dream tonight. He knows he will.
One thing Yuuji knows is that dreams are better than that voice, that voice that haunts him. He knows that the same voice haunts—haunted Megumi too.
Start by saving me, Itadori. Megumi had said. That voice often tells Yuuji he didn't do it—didn't save Megumi. He tried. He did. Didn't he?
He didn't.
He doesn't want to hear the voice tonight, doesn't want to hear it at all, ever again.
He's tired.
࿐
Yuuji isn’t in control of his body. He’s not himself. He’s only allowed to watch as someone else uses him to destroy, to cause harm to others, to spill blood.
This isn’t his body.
This is Megumi’s.
But Megumi doesn’t normally have marks on his arms. Megumi doesn’t normally wear his hair pushed back.
Megumi doesn’t normally kill the people he loves.
Satoru lays on the ground, he isn’t breathing. His torso isn’t attached to his legs.
Satoru is dead.
Yuuji wants to scream.
He isn’t in control of his body. This isn’t his body.
There’s blood on Megumi’s hands. They’re not really his though.
Darkness washes over him. He’s drowning.
He wants to scream.
࿐
Yuuji gasps awake.
That was worse than the voice he normally hears.
Of course, when he thinks it couldn’t possibly get worse, it gets worse.
He still vividly remembers the day his sensei died.
He often relives that moment in his head. This was the first time he experienced it from another person’s point of view.
He hates it.
It makes him sick.
Yuuji hurriedly gets out of his bed. He vomits. He can’t seem to stop as the memory of blood and death come crashing through his mind.
He isn’t sure when it he stops hurling his guts out, but when he’s finished, he writes again. He franticly scrawls his pen across paper, mindless words inking the white sheet. He doesn’t even know what he writes, but it ends up in the pile under his bed,
Theres a tight kind of pain his heart, it feels like it’s being stabbed over and over again.
What is this? Yuuji wonders
Yuuji collapses.
࿐
Yuuji's in an airport. He has no idea how he got here, has no idea why he's here. He’s younger, he can feel it, mentally. He's shorter too, His hair isn't pushed back either
The sun is bright, making Yuuji squint his eyes. The light seeps onto the white tile floor through the large windows. It's quiet, he can hear his own heartbeat. There isn't a soul around.
The escalators move, no one steps on and no one steps off. The stores are open, no one occupies the cashiers’, no one occupies the thousands of empty chairs and benches.
For a moment, Yuuji wants to panic—until he hears the faintest sound. He shifts to see a figure on one of the benches. Relief washes over him as he begins making his way towards what looks like another person. The sound of his shoes echoing throughout the vacant airport.
Click click click.
The figure on the bench looks up, Yuuji is too far to make out any distinct features—all but one.
That hair.
He would recognize that hair anyway.
But it can't be… can it?
In that small beat of time, the two lock eyes. Honey brown on a crisp autumn day meeting emerald green like a field of grass overlooked by the sun.
Yuuji's breath catches, he isn't quite sure what to do, his body seems to have forgotten how to move.
There are words on his tongue, he wants to scream them, needs to let them out of his heart. He's frozen, mouth quivering as tears prick his eyes.
The green eyed boy slowly, so slowly, begins to stand up. His movements tremble, eyes glassy.
“Itadori?” the boy whispers, there's so much hope in his voice, so much hope it drowns out everything Yuuji feels and doesn't feel.
Before he can do anything Yuuji collapses to his knees, unable to do much besides sob, sob until he wants to vomit again. He should get up, should get up and explain everything to him.
He can't move.
“It's just another dream…” Yuuji croaks out through the tears.
It's only another dream. Stupid, useless and misleading. He wants it to end.
Firm hands lightly grip Yuuji's shoulders, Yuuji hasn’t felt touch like this in a very long time. It feels wonderful. It’s incredible. his shaking and tears subside as he looks up.
God, he really is beautiful. Just like in every dream, Megumi is beyond beautiful. He's ethereal in every way. The golden light cuts across his body. Yuuji's lips move, forming words, but no sound comes out. He wants to continue crying, he wants to wake up, he doesn't want to endure this torture anymore.
“Yuuji… oh, Yuuji.” Megumi's voice cracks, he's leaning down now, his body trembles as he crouches to Yuuji's level. The pink haired boy sits helpless on the floor.
His voice is nice; his voice is so familiar. Yuuji thinks
Those same hands gripping his shoulders, are now wiping away the tears that linger in his eyes, those same hands trace the shape of Yuuji's face, just like his last dream. Those same beautiful, perfect, lithe hands wrap around his body.
Megumi's embrace is overwhelming, the scent of him, the warmth of his body, everything about him consumes Yuuji. The touch is electric in a way, so wonderful, it breaks Yuuji that this dream will have to come to an end. This perfect dream.
“Megumi…” Yuuji rasps. His voice doesn't sound like it belongs to him. His own arms wrap around Megumi's body. This touch is so real. So perfect.
It's a long while before Megumi pulls away, helping Yuuji up with him as he gets to his feet. They sit on the bench, there is too much space, yet barely any between them.
The silence sits between them like a thick brick wall. The air is tight, such a small amount for a place this vast.
It's a long while before Yuuji says anything at all. He expects the dream to end with each passing second. Heat prickles his cheeks. He clears his throat before speaking. “You look like you did when we first met—that's—it's not a bad thing… you look good.” Yuuji wants to slap himself. He takes a lazy hand, slowly dragging it down his face. “Sorry,” he mutters.
Megumi let’s out a sound that could be a dry laugh “Yeah, I could say the same about you. It's nice to see your personality is the same too.” A smile tugs at his lips.
Yuuji grins, really grins. He has no idea when the last time he smiled like that was, not even in his other dreams. He elbows Megumi in the arm, exhaling a small laugh. A moment passes, Yuuji considers his next words. “I've missed you, well I guess I still miss you.”
Megumi's brows furrow, "What do you mean you guess?"
Yuuji chews on his bottom lip "Well even though I'm with you now, that doesn't stop me from missing you when I wake up."
Something flashes in Megumi's eyes that makes Yuuji's stomach churn "You mean you think you're dreaming?" Megumi asks, bewilderment coating his voice.
A humorless laugh escapes Yuuji. "Oh, god, Megumi, of course this is a dream... although I wish it wasn't." he whispers the last few words to himself.
An unsettling silence lingers between the two. Megumi slowly runs a hand through his hair with a sigh. "It's not."
"What are you talking about?"
"I don't... I don't really know how to explain it." Megumi's eyes wander elsewhere, fidgeting with his thumbs. "I've been here, a really long time."
"You mean this airport?" Yuuji asks, Megumi nods. "Why?"
"Well I—"
"He's been waiting for you, obviously." A familiar voice grits out from the bench behind them. Both boys turn to find Nobara with her legs crossed, arms sprawled across the bench. "You two are so obvious it's pathetic."
Yuuji feels heat rise in his cheeks once again "Kugi—Nobara? what the hell, when did you get here?" Yuuji shouts a little louder than he intends to.
Nobara shifts to face the boys "I've been here this entire time, idiot."
Mortification runs through Yuuji as he realizes that she likely watched his entire meltdown when he first arrived.
"Wha—nevermind, I'm gonna be honest with you two I'm kinda confused. How—why are you both here? why am I here?"
Megumi shrugs "…we’ll try our best to explain"
"Pshh that's all you Fushiguro, now that our Itadori is finally here I'm gonna take a walk, stretch a little and whatnot." Nobara says, winking before walking away. YuujI thinks he might pass out from how obvious she’s being.
Yuuji turns to Megumi, mouth opening then snapping shut. Megumi cracks a small smile. "Where do I even begin?"
Yuuji laughs, the sound is almost foreign to him. “We might be here awhile."
Megumi begins to explain everything that's happened, explains the airport and what it is, what it's supposed to be.
"Think of it like a waiting room for the next life... a gap in time of the sorts"
"But it's not a dream?”
“No, it's not.”
Yuuji rubs his thumb across his lip, crossing his arms. “So I'm not actually crazy, I'm not imagining this?”
Megumi exhales lightly, “No, Yuuji, you're not imagining this.”
Yuuji nods, it’s a bit overwhelming for him. This is Megumi, completely real. Not something he made up in his dreams.
After Megumi explains how the airport works—how north resembles starting anew, while south resembles returning—It’s a bit complicated but YuujI thinks he’s beginning to understand it all.
“I see, but one thing I don’t understand, Megumi… how am I here? I can't be dead—there’s just no way, I—I don’t understand.” Yuuji says hurriedly, panic begins to rise in him. Did he die? Maybe he should be relieved.
Megumi places a hand on his shoulder. “You didn’t die, I’m… I'm not really sure how or why you’re here, but I have the slightest idea,” Megumi pauses, looking around the airport. “This place is strange, the only other person I've seen here is Nobara. Before that, I had been waiting for you… a long fucking time too.” He huffs a humorless laugh “Deep down, I resented you for it. Even though I told myself I didn’t, I knew you’d come, I just didn’t know why it was taking you so long. I was being selfish… Then Nobara arrived, told me you wouldn’t be coming. She told me it wasn’t the end though, you see beforehand I was so fixated on meeting you here, restarting with you. That I had forgotten I could choose a new life. Me and Nobara were discussing that, and then you suddenly appear out of nowhere.” Megumi gestures with his hand towards Yuuji.
Yuuji nods slowly “I… I'm sorry Megumi it—it was never my choice—” Megumi shushes him quietly, cupping his face.
“Don’t apologize, Yuuji. Besides, I wasn’t finished,” He whispers with a small smile. Yuuji's heart aches.
“I'm not even sure how long ago it was—time works weird here, but some time before you arrived, I came across a pile of letters on the floor, all of them from you to me… I had read every single one, and every fucking one of them made me cry.” He lightly hits Yuuji on his arm, the pink-haired boy laughs lightly. “It was so strange, I didn’t know why I was receiving them from you now, because the dates went on for years, and then you’re here, right before I decide which path I'll take.” Megumi is staring at him, really staring, seeing him.
The words left unsaid. Yuuji wrote them so many times in every letter.
“I love you too Yuuji.” Megumi whispers, looking down, a faint blush creeps across his face.
Yuuji is blinded by embarrassment, every sappy word he wrote in those letters, all for Megumi to read. Even if they were addressed to him, he never actually expected Megumi to read them.
“I—ha… yeah…” He pauses, rubbing his hand on his knee, “Uhm, so what you're saying is you think my letters somehow allowed me to end up here?” Yuuji asks, tilting his head.
Megumi shrugs “Something like that… I’m not really sure, and since you aren’t dead, I don’t know what’s going to happen.” The words linger in the air, a heavy weight settling between them.
“Why would you and Nobara only now discuss which direction to head, when it's been years since she passed?” Yuuji questions, none of this was making any sense.
“Maybe it's been years for you, but like I said before, time is weird here. Sometimes it feels like years will pass, when in reality it's only been a few minutes.”
“Is that why we're younger here?”
“Not quite, I'm not really sure why that is, my original theory was that you appear the age you are when you died,” a pause gesturing to himself, “But then Nobara arrived looking as young as she did when we first met. I don’t really know.”
Yuuji nods slowly once more, putting his arms behind his neck, “So what? Are we catching a flight?”
“Seems like the only thing we can do.” Megumi replies, his smile growing bigger. He stands up, offering his hand to Yuuji who takes it without hesitation.
“Hey, losers!” The boys turn their heads to see Nobara waving toward them, a giant grin painted across her face.
“I'm coming too! Whichever direction you pick I'm coming!”
Yuuji waves back, “So which way have you decided?” he asks, savoring the warmth of Megumi's hand.
Megumi looks at Yuuji, his smile subtle but warm “North.”
࿐
The pain Yuuji feels is worse than any physical torture he could endure.
How foolish of him to think he'd be able to meet Megumi in this immortal life. It was all so stupid, his dreams, his hopeless fantasies. All of it was so incredibly stupid.
Yuuji doesn’t get out of bed. He doesn’t want to. Why should he?
His heart feels like it's been shattered, a fragile piece of glass, stepped on, thrown around, handled carelessly.
He hates it.
࿐
It's days before Yuuji gets out of his bed. Days before he eats or drinks or does anything at all. Eventually though, he decides nothing's really changed. He's still here, it was one dream.
It changed nothing.
He figures he might as well go out, perhaps feel the sun on skin. The world outside is so advanced, so loud and bright. Yuuji watched it all change over the years, he hates it.
There's a small coffee shop that he likes to visit, it's not a long walk from where he resides.
The doorbell chimes as he walks into the familiar store, the machines making coffee, he orders off the large tablet on the wall. There is no one working here, though people sit in various seats of the shop. Yuuji grabs his coffee, takes the table for two located near the corner. This small spot is accompanied by a window that overlooks the city.
Yuuji waits, watches as people pass, their figures aren’t quite distinguished, they pass in blurs, the lights blink on and off. Yuuji's head hurts. Time moves too slowly yet too fast all the same. People leave; people enter. A cycle.
The doorbell chimes, again. Yuuji looks over.
There's a sharp pain in his heart as the person walking in meets his eyes.
The most beautiful blue he's ever seen, as deep as the ocean. He's different but not really, Yuuji doesn’t know how to explain it. His black hair looks the same, it's messier though, thin silver streaks start at his roots and fade into his ends.
For a split second, Yuuji's hope falters as he wonders if he's dreaming once again.
But the man in front of him is dreamlike in a way that’s so very real.
“Megumi?” he whispers
Yuuji is out of his chair in a heartbeat.
One, two, three seconds pass before he's colliding into the most beautiful man, he's ever seen.
“Megumi, oh my God” Yuuji doesn’t care if he's making a scene, not as warm arms embrace him, not as all familiarity consumes him.
“Yuuji, it's really you.” Megumi whispers, his fingers grazing Yuuji's overgrown undercut.
“Megumi…” that all Yuuji can say, that’s all he can think
Megumi Megumi Megumi.
Yuuji pulls away, he doesn’t want to, but he needs to drink up the sight of Megumi. He needs to.
“But how?” Yuuji croaks through a sob
“I told you I was going north, didn’t I?” Megumi replies with a smile, grasping Yuuji's shoulders “I'm here now.”
It takes a long while for Yuuji to compose himself, Megumi makes him sit in wait at the corner seat while he orders coffee for himself. (of course, Yuuji refuses to let him pay the bill) Before sliding into the seat in front of Yuuji.
“Everything's…” Megumi starts
“different” Yuuji answers
They share a laugh; this feels so unreal.
He hopes it's real.
Yuuji sighs “I don’t even know where to start.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I don’t really have any plans.”
Yuuji smiles, smiles so hard his face hurts. He checks his invisible watch “I think I could spare a few years.”
Megumi barks a laugh, and God, it’s the most wonderful sound that’s ever crossed paths with Yuuji's ears, it sends shivers down his spine.
“Idiot.” Megumi whispers, sipping his coffee.
Yuuji is scared to believe this is real, he’s terrified.
“Youre really here…” Yuuji whispers, outlining the rim of his coffee cup with his thumb.
“Why do you sound disappointed?” Megumi asks, his eyes dimming slightly.
Yuuji flinches “I—I’m not! I… I’m afraid, I’m afraid any second now ill wake up, ill wake up and this never happened.”
“Yuuji look at me.”
Yuuji does, he meets those blue eyes, so deep and unreal. He spends a moment tracing each detail of this man, just in case.
“Yuuji, I’m here, and I don’t plan on leaving. Do you understand?” Megumi says, his voice is calm and reassuring.
Yuuji nods, he doesn’t feel real right now. He wants this to be real.
“I understand.”
Yuuji's heart hurts, not in a painful way, the excitement flowing within him, the love, all of it is so overwhelming, so much it hurts. He's so happy.
He hopes this isn’t a dream.
He's happy.
If only for a small amount of time, if only for a few years, he can stay with Megumi. He’ll be happy.
Happy doesn’t even begin to describe it.
But it’s a start.
࿐
Love comes in many different forms. Some cry, others keep it sacred, and there are those who withhold so much love inside them that they have no idea how to express it but will do everything in their power to adorn those who they hold close to their heart in that love.
Itadori Yuuji falls under all three of those categories.