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He’d been thinking about it a lot recently.
Not even just recently, if he was honest. At least since he was fourteen. Which was odd when he thought about it, really. He’d been mulling over the idea for the past two years, and not once had he said anything to anyone. Tsumiki certainly didn’t count, not in the unconscious state she was in. It didn’t matter how in depth he went about this to her, or how anxious the whole ordeal made him. A verbal response was not, and likely never would be, given from the catatonic girl, yet still. She was as close to a confidant as he could get at that moment.
Gojo was completely off the table. Nope, not a viable option, not when he was the main reason for Megumi’s distress.
Megumi groaned and fidgeted with the folded papers in his pocket, their crinkling a soft reminder of the conversation to come.
If he’d just work up the nerve first.
Gojo had never been an easy person to talk to. He was arrogant and childish and giving comfort or understanding emotions had never been a strong suit of his. Higher-ups hated him— loathed him, in fact—so much so that anytime the white haired man so much as breathed, he was instantaneously a target. And Megumi, young, intolerant Megumi, could understand why the sorcerer was so hated. He was brash and disrespectful, always one to jump the gun and get himself, as well as his students, into situations where they were way in over their heads. He was always late, embarrassing, and the world’s biggest flirt to the point where Megumi would have to drag him out of the situations he’d mended for himself. Long in short, Gojo Satoru was a menace to society.
…
But he was also the only constant Megumi ever knew. Sure, the ravenette had always been on the antagonistic side, never giving Gojo the credit where it was due and even going as far before as to say he hated the sorcerer—thank God for Gojo’s naturally inflated ego and thick skin—but as a child, he always thought that Gojo was another temporary individual in his life. He never once thought that the enigma that was Gojo would remain in his life for ten years. He didn’t really care at the time when he thought about Gojo’s inevitable departure. It was just a fact that made itself a home in his head, and Megumi, at only six years old, had accepted that.
But now, at sixteen, it was an idea that left a pit of anxiety in his chest. The idea that Gojo might leave, be it intentional or not, was suddenly so undesirable that it left Megumi feeling nauseous if he thought it over for too long. And Megumi was painfully aware that in two years, on his eighteenth birthday, Gojo could choose to walk right out of his life without repercussions.
Megumi didn’t know all of the fine details about the documentation concerning Gojo’s “guardianship” over him, but what he did know was that the binding was weak. In two years, Gojo’s guardianship would expire and any and all relational ties the two had between each other would be null and void. Gojo would be free to leave if he pleased.
And Megumi, though he hated to admit it, dreaded that possibility. To lose the closest thing to a family he had? To be alone all over again?
He fought off a chill and the urge to gag.
So now, he had paper. Papers that would keep Gojo on a metaphorical leash for the rest of their lives should he agree to sign them.
Should he reject them…
Megumi swallowed the bile that rose in his throat.
This internal conflict was emotionally grueling on its own, actually facing Gojo was a whole other battle on its own. Gojo’s busy schedule and physical unavailability aside, he was probably one of the most difficult people to talk to, and Megumi wasn’t exactly what one could call patient.
But Itadori, bless the boy’s soul, pushed Megumi to do it anyway. Despite not knowing the subject matter, the bubbly boy assured Megumi that Gojo would speak seriously with him if it was needed.
Megumi only hoped his boyfriend was right.
So now Megumi stood outside of Gojo’s office at eight at night, crickets chirping noisily outside and the sun beginning to set. The only thing that separated him from an uncomfortable conversation with the strongest sorcerer within Jujutsu was the door.
All he had to do was knock.
He gulped, ignoring the burning sensation rising in his ears before he raised a shaky fist and knocked.
There was a loud “Dammit,” followed by a frantic shuffling of papers. “Come in!” Came Gojo’s tired response.
Megumi inhaled deeply through his nose, held it, then exhaled through his mouth.
It was now or never.
Upon opening the door, Megumi was met with a scene he expected. Gojo sat at his desk, his computer illuminated and surrounded by stacks of papers. Many were scattered about, haphazardly stacked as though Gojo had quickly (and unsuccessfully) attempted to clean the sorry excuse of his work office. Gojo sat stock straight with expectancy, sunglasses clad over eyes Megumi was certain were rimmed red with exhaustion. Noticing that his visitor was Megumi, Gojo relaxed significantly, his posture immediately slouching. “Ah, Gumi!” Megumi suppressed the urge to tell Gojo off for the unwanted nickname. “Long time no see, yeah?”
The teen rolled his eyes. “You see me every day.”
Gojo waved a hand dismissively. “That doesn’t count. I mean in a non-teacher setting. I can’t remember the last time we’ve conversed when it wasn’t in class or because of a mission.”
Megumi nodded subtly. He supposed there was some truth to that. Both of their schedules had grown increasingly convoluted with the passing months, so time for recreational conversation was seldom. “The end of my second year has been…busy.” That felt like an understatement.
Gojo just nodded. “Sure, yes, I remember the endings to all of my grades. They’re always the busiest when they’re coming to a close.”
Megumi cocked an eyebrow and shoved his hands in his pockets, wincing slightly when his right hand made contact with the folded papers. “So what’s your excuse? You could come see me sometime, too, y’know.”
“Higher-ups are getting on my ass again,” Gojo grumbled, gesturing to a stack of papers on his desk. “With several first grade sorcerers upgrading to their fourth year comes a lot of paperwork. It seems the higher-ups want to know absolutely everything going on with the students. Probably so they can get some fresh recruits the moment they all graduate. Can’t say I blame them. I’m quite proud of how far my students have grown. But it’s such a pain in the ass.” He punctuated his statement with a signature laugh, but Megumi couldn’t return it. Not that he would anyway, even lacking the inner turmoil he was experiencing.
“So,” Gojo drew out the vowel, fingers interlacing and chin resting atop the backs of his hands, “y’just gonna stand there, or are you going to come fully in? I can’t think that you’d just stopped by to ask where I’ve been.”
Megumi’s mouth felt as though it was filled with cotton and his head was loud with static. It was just like Gojo to read through people and get to the heart of the matter rather than beat around the bush. Megumi stepped further into the office and shut the door securely behind him.
Wordlessly, Gojo gestured to the seat across from him, a silent invitation for Megumi to sit down and bear whatever was on his mind wide open to Gojo’s ears. Megumi hoped his discomfort wasn’t as prevalent as he thought it was, but he also knew that Gojo could read him like a book he’d spent decades memorizing. Every mannerism, habit, fidget, click, and tick was so engraved into the adult’s mind that figuring Megumi out was basically second nature.
Doing his best to swallow his anxiety, Megumi sat down, a static electric jolt subtly running through his bones in a way that was reminiscent of an executioner’s chair. This felt like suicide, agonizing suicide, if Gojo refused, rejected, laughed in his face over the offer. Yet, Gojo sat right there expectantly, with a familiar smile on his face that was supposed to make Megumi want to talk.
It didn’t.
So the two sat in silence for a while, Megumi trying to find the right words to say, trying to figure out if turning back would be easier than moving forward, all the while Gojo continued to look at him with anticipation, every once and a while glancing at the clock in the corner of his computer screen.
Gojo’s patience was, more often than not, subject to fluctuation. As a stubborn child who made it abundantly clear that he wanted little to no interference from the white haired sorcerer, Gojo had been surprisingly understanding. He never pushed himself on the younger boy, not when it wasn’t required. He’d been patient with the grumpy child’s needs and not once lashed out at Megumi, in spite of his difficult nature. Sure, Gojo had gotten frustrated at times, especially with how slowly Megumi took to warm up to him, but he’d never taken his aggressions out on Megumi or Tsumiki. When placed in front of higher-ups, however, Gojo’s patience waned fairly quickly. Sometimes his patience was as steady as a breeze on a summer’s day. Other times, his patience flew like a pendulum.
That day, his patience seemed to be of the latter.
“Something’s on your mind,” Gojo eventually broke the silence with a matter-of-fact tone.
Megumi cocked an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Yeah? No shit.”
“So talk about it,” Gojo shrugged as though it was that simple. Though, Megumi did suppose that he wouldn’t get anywhere if he didn’t start.
Megumi directed his eyes away from Gojo. “It wasn’t easy, was it?”
The smile on Gojo’s lips faded, a thin, confused line replacing it. “Hm?”
“Raising Tsumiki and I,” Megumi clarified. “Back when I was six, I always saw you as older than what you really were. You were tall, didn’t have a babyface, and while you were a little on the leaner side yet, you were much bigger than me. I thought you were an adult. But when I see pictures from all of those years ago now, you looked barely old enough to have finished high school. You were just a kid yourself, and you were raising two others. And if I remember correctly, it was an overnight thing, wasn’t it? One day, you were a kid with only Jujutsu and your studies to worry about, and the next you were suddenly responsible for two kids who were mentally able to care for themselves at nothing more than a baseline of survival, one of which was a sweetheart who actually allowed you into her life, while the other was a hard assed brat who threatened to spit in your face if you looked at him funny. Being thrown into that life as a kid while looked upon as an adult with virtually no time to adjust couldn’t have been easy.”
Gojo pursed his lips, expression unreadable. He nodded his head back and forth slowly. “It wasn’t,” he agreed, “but it wasn’t as though I was raising you munchkins alone. I had Shoko, Nanami, and…” Gojo’s voice cut off quickly, and Megumi could tell from the look on the sorcerer’s face that his vocal cords burned of a man’s name that had once so fondly stolen Gojo’s affections, only for it to transfigure into a toxic poison. Megumi faintly remembered pale skin that wrapped around gentle fingers. He remembered kind eyes accompanied with long, black, silky hair. Someone who balanced out Gojo’s chaos with his own sense of level headedness. Megumi remembered all of that with the clarity of an unfocused camera.
However, Megumi could remember the day the man left as though he was looking through crystal.
“Whether you had help or not isn’t the point,” Megumi interjected, hoping to wipe that pained expression clean off Gojo’s face. “The point is you took care of Tsumiki and me despite your own life. You weren’t required to do more than feed, clothe, and house us, and yet you still did more than that. You always came to an event if we were performing or receiving some kind of award, even when I vehemently told you not to bother,” Megumi could still hear Gojo’s obnoxious voice proudly yelling his name after he received an honor roll award while graduating primary school. “You attended every parent/teacher conference that had to be set up because of my problematic behavior, albeit late,” Some things never change. “You were there beyond what you had to be. You gave up your childhood so Tsumiki and I could have one.”
Gojo sat back in his chair, crossing a leg over the other. “I wanted you both to have a better life than I did. Even if your future was predestined for Hell, that doesn’t mean you should have had to throw away the years that were supposed to be your happiest because of it.”
Megumi blinked blankly at Gojo, wondering how a single man could be so selfish and so selfless at the same time. He took in a shuddering breath. “I never thanked you for raising us.”
Silence hung thick in the air, threatening to suffocate the two. In the ten years their relationship had the opportunity to grow, such raw sentimentalities seldom showed. For Megumi to be so upfront with gratefulness was odd at best.
Gojo shrugged. “It went without saying.”
“I don’t think it did.”
Once again, the two were catapulted into silence, the heaviness and sincerity of their words weighing down the air. Gojo stared at Megumi, seemingly studying his features as closely as he could. Once he was satisfied, he hummed.
“You think raising you was a burden, correct?”
Megumi tensed slightly at the blunt phrasing. “To an extent,” he eventually answered. “Tsumiki maybe not as much, but I gave you more problems than what I was worth. Your final years of childhood were stolen away by a kid who never made anything easy and didn’t understand when he had something good, too blinded by the thought that you’d end up like all the others.” Gone .
Gojo tilted his head to the side. “Let me ask you something: have I ever talked about the Gojo clan with you?”
Megumi’s eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed. “I’ve heard rumors, but nothing ever from you.”
Gojo nodded. “And there’s a reason for that. Many, in fact. Boiled down, however, my family was never a family. Everything was purely work, and I was nothing more than a trump card, something placed upon a pedestal as a reminder of power. Mom and Dad weren’t Mom and Dad, just bosses. So when you two were thrown at me, I was scared shitless,” Gojo laughed, looking to the ceiling. “I kept telling myself, ‘ I’m going to mess these kids up so bad because I don’t know how to be anything but business oriented, ’ and when I met you, that’s exactly how I came off. Like our relationship was strictly transactional. And sure, maybe that’s how it started, but that’s not how it stayed. Raising you two was by no means easy, but it had its rewards. Despite being smaller than a shrimp, you absolutely detested being picked up. Hell, the first time I tried, you bit me like the feral kid you were.”
“Tch. Probably served you right,” Megumi mumbled, but if Gojo heard him, he ignored the comment.
“But the first time you got sick? You woulda thought I lost you and replaced you with another kid. You were so shy, and God, you reached tiny hands out to me and asked to be held. And the moment I had your little feverish body in my arms, you’d raise feeble Hell the moment I tried to put you down. It was frustrating carting a six year old around the house without a break, but at the same time, it was kind of…nice. Being needed not because of my abilities, but because I could provide comfort . I was more than just a tool to ward off other clans and powerful curses. I was a human,” Gojo admitted, the faintest outline of a fond smile placing itself across his pale lips. However, the smile was soon wiped off nearly as quickly as it had come.
“And…I’m not sure how much you remember him …but I remember the day we fell apart as though it was yesterday. And not just the confrontation. I remember the aftermath, slinking back pitifully to your and Tsumiki’s apartment where I all but collapsed on your couch damn near unresponsive despite all of the outside stimulus you both sent my way. You both kept trying to talk to me, asking me what was wrong or if my state of mind was a prank. Tsumiki told me Shoko called, but I hardly responded. I think I might’ve answered the phone at some point and told her that I was staying the night with you guys and that I’d be able to feed you both. I ordered takeout for all of us because I was lazy, but I didn’t touch mine. You kicked my shin out of frustration, and while it did hurt I didn’t have the heart to be angry.”
“ That’s what made me worried,” Megumi interjected as he, too, recalled the painful memory. “Aside from the fact that the Gojo Satoru turned down a meal, I was able to kick your shin. You weren’t using infinity.”
Gojo shrugged. “Couldn’t find the energy to. Didn’t really care. It truly felt as though my life had ended, and all over one person. I didn’t think I’d ever recover from a blow such as that…” Gojo drew his feet up onto his chair, knees raising to his chest and chin resting against a kneecap. His glasses tilted down ever so slightly so Megumi could see the bright blue irises peek out. “And then you two…small kiddos who shouldn’t have had to worry about how I was feeling, padded out into the living room where I was still wallowing in self pity on the couch with a plethora of blankets in tow. Not only did you both cover me up and tuck me in like I was a child, but you both insisted that you slept in the living room with me. That day was so shitty, I’ll never forget it, but on the opposite side of the same token, it was the first time I truly felt like I had a family. You two gave me something that blood relation was supposed to but never did. Raising you was never burdensome, and it never could be. You guys both gave me more than you realize.”
Megumi bit the inside of his cheek at the confession. He wanted to refute Gojo’s claim, tell him that his child self had been nothing more than a menace and that Gojo shouldn’t have had to put up with his selfish behavior, but how could he? How could he refute such heartfelt words while Gojo still looked like a giddy idiot as he recalled the memories? He couldn’t. He couldn’t, and he could tell by that stupid glint in Gojo’s partially uncovered eyes that the older sorcerer knew it.
So where did that leave Megumi now? He supposed he might as well cut to the chase.
“I’ll be eighteen in two years,” he stated randomly, switching topics.
Gojo’s eyes widened slightly at the proclamation, several insinuations running rampantly through his head before his eyes relaxed slightly. “That’s correct. My, how time flies.”
Megumi gripped harshly at the chair’s armrests. “Your guardianship will be null and void.”
Gojo seemed to freeze at that, breath getting caught in his throat as he tried to think over how this conversation would end. “That is also correct. You will be free to do whatever you please.”
But Megumi already knew what he wanted to do.
Shaky hands reached back into his pocket, the paper’s inside searing his skin to the touch with anticipation. Unceremoniously and lacking a proper plan, Megumi threw the papers onto Gojo’s desk, them standing out prominently in contrast to the plethora of papers already spread out about the desk.
Gojo’s confusion was clear, eyes staring cautiously at the papers Megumi thrust at him. Slow hands reached out to grab them, fingers moving in a way that made Megumi think that Gojo believed the papers would burn him should he move too quickly, in order to examine their print further. “What are these?” Gojo asked before thoroughly inspecting the documents.
Megumi stayed silent, allowing Gojo to figure it out on his own.
It didn’t take long, not when the papers’ intentions were written with such blatant clarity at the top in bold. Had Megumi not been so perturbed, he’d have laughed at Gojo’s reaction, body freezing, eyes widening in comedic size, mouth slack with shock, and a slight thumping sensation that slowly grew to be more and more audible.
Megumi would’ve loved to snap a photo and use it on a Christmas card, ‘ the Gojo Satoru being shocked into complete silence.’ But his blood was icy and his heart constricted painfully, refusing to pump any warm blood into his body that would allow his temporary paralysis to wear off faster.
For a moment, Gojo scrambled for any words at all, looking quickly between the paperwork and Megumi, eyes unbelieving. “Is…this a prank?”
He would think that. “I’m not you or Inumaki-senpai, so no.” He hated the waver in his voice, the clear anticipation and vulnerability all laid out for Gojo’s ears.
Gojo licked his lips. “You know what you gave me, right? There wasn’t a mix up of papers or anything?”
Megumi shot the man a glare. As if he had anyone else to give those papers to. “I gave you adoption forums, I know.”
At that, Gojo swallowed thickly, fingers unconsciously worrying the edges of the papers. “Why?”
Megumi bit back a groan and the urge to wrench the legally binding papers out of Gojo’s grip with a harsh ‘ Just forget it. ’ Of course, Gojo couldn’t just make this easy on him, couldn’t give him a straightforward yes or no . He wanted—absolutely had to have —a more in depth explanation after they’d already had an overabundance of heart to hearts within their short visit. The vulnerability was beginning to make the teen nauseous. Yet still, Gojo sat in front of him expectantly and slightly freaked out. Megumi knew the adult wouldn’t give him an answer until he received an answer of his own.
Megumi decided it would be easier to look at the ground, shrinking in on himself with tightly folded arms and drawing his knees up to his chest, feet resting overcrowdedly on the chair’s seat. “You gave up…so much to raise Tsumiki and me. More than any teenager should have to. Even when I yelled at you, screamed until I was crying, to leave us alone, you kept showing up. You st-”
“I killed your father.”
“I know ,” Megumi inhaled sharply, briefly glancing up to look at Gojo who still looked shocked beyond belief before looking back down at the ground. “I…I know what you did, we’ve already had that talk, but…he was never keen on staying. He left frequently, left a kid to fend for himself for days, if not weeks on end. I never had the chance to significantly bond with him; he never gave me the chance to. You, however…you did more for me than he ever did. Probably more than he ever would . You stayed when everyone else left. Even when-” Megumi felt his throat close up, a gulping breath attempting to shove itself down into his lungs. The words he was trying to choke out next weren’t easy, and he knew Gojo could tell such, but he had to get them out, had to speak them into the air, otherwise, Gojo would remain stubborn in his place. Gulping painfully, Megumi continued. “When Tsumiki was first cursed…I thought that that was it. My only technical family member,” Megumi noticed Gojo’s subtle wince at that, “doomed to a comatose state for a curse that is unknown to all jujutsu sorcerers near and far. When I first heard the news I’d never felt more alone in my entire life. My first thought process was to be angry. I knew the moment I saw you, I was going to raise Hell. Yell at you for something you had no part in, scream as though you were at fault for absolutely every travesty that’s been bestowed upon me thus far, hit and punch you as though letting out my aggressions physically on others would solve anything …
“...but then I saw you. At the hospital. Slouched over in one of those visitor seats that looked much too small for you. Your head was facing the ground with a faraway expression, something I hadn’t seen since your incident with Suguru. You weren’t crying, I could tell that much, but your teeth were grit in an agony that even your sick and twisted love complications couldn’t compete with. At first, I hadn’t thought much of it. I stomped towards you, ready to wreak havoc in the middle of the hospital’s hallway. But the moment I was in front of you, I wasn’t able to get a word out. You beat me to that. You said ‘ I’m sorry ,’ as if what happened was your fault. As if you could’ve done something. As if you’d let not only her down, but me as well.”
Megumi wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t going to cry . That wasn’t his style, and certainly not in front of Gojo. So instead, he took to digging his nails into the palms of his hands to deter the painful memories.
“It was then I realized that Tsumiki didn’t just affect me. You were hurt by it, too. In more ways than I could probably count. I wasn’t alone in my misery because you’d also lost someone you cared about. That’s when I realized that your guardianship , against my judgment as a kid, had morphed into something more… familial .”
Megumi looked back up at Gojo, the look of shock still painting itself brightly across Gojo’s pale face. Who would’ve thought all it took to get Gojo to be rendered speechless was to throw sincere words at him?
Gojo swallowed again, as though his mouth was dry. “Ok, but why this ?” He pressed, making an emphatic showing of the papers to Megumi as if the teen hadn’t seen them before. “I’m already technically your legal guardian.”
Megumi sighed, frustration beginning to take root in his heart. “The binding’s too loose. You know that. In the next two years, your guardianship won’t matter. It’s a no strings attached deal. By then, you’ll have raised me as you were told to and your job will be labeled complete. I don’t want to be just a job to you.”
“You’re not just a job, you never have been. I just don’t want you to feel obligated to do this…to have someone like me as an official family member.”
“I don’t feel obligated!” Megumi finally snapped, feet colliding viciously with the floor and hands flying in the air exasperatedly. “Under what circumstances other than my own desire would I willingly sit with you and place my emotions and wants so blatantly out in front of you? There’s no obligation anyone could place upon me that would make me even remotely ok with going through with something like this! I’ve been mulling over this decision for years and have only just now worked up the courage to bother saying anything about it to anyone who wasn’t Tsumiki, and she can’t even respond to me! I’m asking you for this because I want to! I’m taking your advice and being greedier, more selfish! I want this!” He was breathing heavily, shoulders slouching and tensing with each intake as his anxiety and frustration finally got the best of him and intermingled painfully within his chest.
Willing the overwhelming emotions to subside, Megumi pinched the bridge of his nose, eyes screwed shut tightly. “Gojo, you’re an arrogant asshole who’s only responsible when it’s demanded of him. You’re annoying, absolutely insufferable, and seem to enjoy hearing yourself talk way too much. But you’re the closest thing I’ve ever had to a family, and even if you say you won’t leave me completely alone the moment you’re no longer required to be in my life, I want to make sure that you won’t. If you don’t want to sign them…that’s fine. I get it. I threw these papers at you in a similar manner that Tsumiki and I were thrown at you all those years ago, but…I’d be grateful if you at least considered-”
“I’ll sign them.”
Megumi choked on air, his body lurching forward as harsh, dry coughs wracked through his body. “Wh-What?”
“I said I’ll sign them,” Gojo said in a quiet tone that Megumi was only used to hearing when the adult was attempting to console him after a rough night of memories, illness, or unexpected depressive episodes. It briefly made Megumi feel as though he was a kid who could easily fit into Gojo’s arms again. Gojo moved to grab a pen, a noticeable tremor moving through his hands. He paused. “If you really want me to, that is.”
“No, I’ve said all of this stuff just to waste my breath,” Megumi joked weakly, attempting to ward off the relieved tears that were stinging at the back of his eyes. “Of course I want you to, but…do you want to?”
“For about six years now, yes, I’ve wanted to.”
The confession sent a new wave of tears to burn at Megumi’s eyes, but this set was much more aggressive, pushing steady droplets down his cheeks. He brought a sleeved hand to palm at his face, the tears soaking immediately into the fabric. “So do it then.”
And Gojo did.
Fingers that were much too shaky to fit the sorcerer’s character drew signature after signature upon the papers in every place it was required. His penmanship was sloppy in comparison to his typical handwriting but that was to be expected with the emotions as high as they were. Megumi still expected Gojo to stop signing the papers at any moment, to realize just what he was condemning himself to and back out, maybe even tear the forums up for good measure.
But as Gojo reached the final signature requirement and began to sign it without hesitation, Megumi was struck with the overwhelming realization that this was happening. After ten years, Gojo was actually adopting him, legally taking him in as family.
Gojo wanted him.
Megumi palmed harder at his eyes, but the action did him no good. Tears that he’d so desperately attempted to keep at bay glided freely down his cheeks that were becoming red from the irritation of fabric against flesh. He told himself that, no matter what the outcome of the night turned out to be, he wouldn’t cry. He wasn’t one to show such vulnerability, and neither was Gojo—perhaps another partial reason as to why he’d been so hellbent on ensuring he didn’t cry—yet at that moment, with the emotions and reality so raw, Megumi found he couldn’t help himself. He tried to play it off at first—Gojo hadn’t noticed yet, too engrossed with making sure he filled out the forums properly—and just rubbed at his eyes as though he was trying to get something out of them.
Then his breath grew audibly shaky, and, of course, Gojo’s eyes quickly looked to Megumi, visually softening behind his shaded spectacles at the sight before him. “Gumi,” he said softly, almost as though he was trying to console the teen.
Megumi only pressed onto his eyes harder, closing them shut so tightly the skin around them began to wrinkle. “D-Don’t call me th-that,” he said in a weak attempt to sound like his typical standoffish self.
“What’s wrong, Gumi?” Gojo ignored, sliding the papers back in Megumi’s direction and placing the pen off to the side. “Did you really think I was going to say no?”
He struck a tightly wound chord, for the ravenette let out a harsh sob at the question. Of course, he thought Gojo would’ve said no. Who would’ve wanted to claim Megumi as family? Who genuinely sought to be a constant in the abandoned teen’s life? Who would be a crazy enough son of a bitch that would willingly subject the rest of their lives to being legal kin to the broken down individual that was Fushiguro Megumi?
Gojo Satoru, that’s who.
Megumi heard the rolling of wheels and heavy footsteps echo softly against the floor until he heard them stop directly in front of him. He moved his hand from his eye slowly, only allowing a sliver of his eye to peek out, but enough to see that Gojo was kneeling in front of him, sincere azure eyes looking out over loosely adorned sunglasses.
“Look kid, when I say I’ve wanted to be family with you and your sister for about six years, I meant it. I just…didn’t want to push you into an uncomfortable state. You’ve always been more of the type to do things on your own, and…well, I just didn’t want to be overbearing, especially with how confusing life has been for you. But you’ve gotta know, even before you asked me to sign those papers, I never had the intention of leaving you behind. No matter what you decide for yourself, you will always be considered family to me.”
That was enough. This was enough. Megumi didn’t need to hear anymore. He frantically shook his head, trying to make the tears, the overwhelming emotions, and sensations cease, but it did little to help. “Sh-Shut up, you idiot,” he ground out without a genuine bite, more tears falling down his pale face. In a moment of vulnerability and relief, Megumi threw himself at the taller man, arms wrapping tightly around the white haired man’s neck, too engulfed in his emotions to question why Gojo’s infinity had been off.
Startled, Gojo reflexively moved steady arms to catch Megumi around his midsection, drawing the younger boy close to his body as though the action was second nature. The chair Megumi had been sitting in rolled helplessly away from the force of the teen collapsing into the adult’s arms, but that didn’t matter much. Megumi knew Gojo would stay on the ground with him for as long as he wanted because, as much as he would never admit it out loud, Gojo was considerate when need be. He was loud, childish, headache inducing, and embarrassing, but he was the only home Megumi ever truly knew.
And now it was a home that was legally binding.
“Damn kid,” came Gojo’s slightly choked up voice, “you’re gonna make me cry, too, if you don’t knock it off.” He gave a breathy laugh at the end of his statement, but with the way his voice was beginning to sound more strained, Megumi knew it wasn’t a joke.
“Cry me a river then,” Megumi managed between his own tears, trying to make the flow slow down.
Gojo gasped in feign offense. “Mean!” Soft laughter flittered about the air from both men after their comments, yet they both still held a certain wetness in their voices, one that was unmistakably filled with happiness and a relief of tension that had only been building for years. Gojo, moving to hold Megumi in a more comfortable position with Megumi nestled snugly in his lap, head resting comfortably on the older’s shoulder, began to card slender fingers through inky black locks. It was reminiscent of when Megumi was no taller than Gojo’s knee and would awake with nightmares that only hugs and hot chocolate could curb after much coaxing. Something Gojo missed too terribly much.
And Megumi, too, not that he’d admit it.
“I love you, kid,” Gojo eventually uttered after a few moments of silence that was only filled with occasional sniffs and shaky breaths. The affectionate words felt foreign not only on the white haired man’s tongue but also wafting about the air to their recipient who was much too used to affections being offhandedly insinuated in some sort of joke. Never that straightforward, never that heavy.
But as he was hit with the reminder that this was permanent—this was home —he found he wasn’t as embarrassed by the blatant sentimentality as he once was, as he probably would be once the high of the moment eventually wore off. So he savored it for what it was, let all doubts and worries fly out the door, as he inhaled the familiar scent of home and let the warmth of it all wrap around him like a security blanket. Gojo wasn’t going anywhere. He was staying right here, for as long as Megumi wanted him to, and he was doing it all with the new and official title of family. Megumi wasn’t alone, would never be again. He could kiss any and all fears of abandonment goodbye as his one constant became a cement pillar. He could finally be at ease. With that knowledge, Megumi inhaled deeply—shakily—through his nose, and willed himself not to sob on the exhale.
“Love you, too.”