Chapter Text
Megumi would give up his power in a second. A moment's notice, if only that it meant he was better at lying. He never was. Itadori never failed to call him out on it either.
“Do you like it?” He would ask, over a new meatball variant. Megumi would have to choke it down, smile at him, and tell him it was delicious. But of course, he saw Yuji’s smile drop and hear him say disappointedly; “You don’t like it”
He tried to make excuses, he really did. But Yuji always knew.
“You okay, Fushigiro?” Itadori asked one morning. Megumi said a quick prayer; please let him believe me.
“Yeah, just tired.” He replied. Hopefully, he was better at half-truths. Because in all honesty, he was tired. He was so bone tired he had no recollection of waking up or coming outside in the intense summer heat. He had no recollection of getting to the field or walking onto the track.
Anytime he tried to think of anything except where he was right then and there- pitifully dragging his feet next to Itadori who was pretending to jog beside him, a dull throbbing would push the backs of his eyes, making the search for an explanation too painful to try.
“You lyin’?” He asked again. “You know I can tell when you lie.”
Megumi glanced over at Yuji. The blurry face showed worry lines pressed into his forehead. Deep enough, Megumi almost thought for a second that Sukuna had given Yuji a third eye right at the top of his nose.
“Maybe can we stop for some water.” Megumi proposed, hoping Itadori would pick up that this was all he was getting out of Megumi anytime soon.
Thankfully, he did pick up on it, and seemed satisfied at the moment.
“Yeah man, of course.” They started their way back, cutting off the track and through the field. Panda and Maki were sparring, Toge sitting on the stairs. Yuji stopped to mess with Maki and Panda, weaving in between the two, getting in their way, redirecting their punches teasingly. Megumi blinked heavily, watching as he passed and sat next to Inumaki.
Inumaki wasn’t Megumi’s favorite second year. He found him annoying at times, his love for jokes and pranks made him and Yuji a dangerous duo, which typically spelled more trouble for Fushigiro. But, on a deeper level, Megumi knew Inumaki was a caring, good guy, and a great friend. His lack of speech made it difficult to communicate, but easier to understand. He didn’t have a way with words, but that just made his desire to be understood and to understand others significantly stronger. Which meant he was incredible at reading people. And an incredibly fast typer.
“You OK Megumi?” The text read, Inumaki’s notes app shown in Megumi’s face.
“Yeah, just a bit of a headache.” He answered. He could be honest with Toge, he knew he wouldn’t tell. Fushigiro had helped him hide dozens of cough drops and sneak him bottles and bottles of cough medicine. So, in return, he knew Toge would find a way to cover for him.
It wasn’t a migraine. Not yet at least. He had been used to migraines for a long time. But he knew them, they were familiar, they often had auras before. They were a different monster all together. Only Gojo knew about his migraines. Not even Toge, who just thinks they’re headaches. He hasn’t even had to take his medication in two years. Only some rough headaches here and there. At least, so far. If he took some tylenol, ate something light, and fell asleep for a few hours he’d be fine. He would tell someone if it was worse, right?
He’d probably just be doing what he is right now. Get Toge to cover, tell him he owes him, then dip till the next day when he feels just about right again. He ignores the part of him that tells him to tell someone. Maybe another time. If it became something again. Genuinely, this one wasn’t so bad. A laugh broke him out of his trance. He looked up, and saw Yuji, for a moment, his eyes were clear.
Yuji was wide smiled, laughing on Panda’s shoulders holding Maki’s 3 sectioned staff well above her reach in the air. The sun tickled his pink hair, and danced across his cheekbones, sculpting his face in finer detail than before. Megumi smiled, Maki raged, and Yuji tumbled off of Panda’s shoulders, playfully screaming the whole way down. Maki chased him across the field, eventually tackled him, and Yuji tapped out because he was laughing too hard at how red Maki’s face had gotten. Cute. He became hotter with that thought, his face flushing and red hot pain licking the base of his neck.
He looked up at the sky over the field. Not a single cloud, heat boring down. He had to get out of there. Sweat was dripping down his back, his neck getting goosebumps from the twinges of pain of blinking away the hot sun. He tapped Inumaki on the shoulder. He pointed back up the stairs, nodding his head as if to say; “Going back to the dorms now.”
“Shake?” Toge whispered. Do you need me to cover you?
Megumi nodded, walking back up the stairs and towards the dorms. He pinched the bridge of his nose and shut his eyes tight, trusting his feet to take him safely to the dorm entrance. He really must be delusional because he thinks briefly that Gojo must be a genius for always wearing a blindfold because God does the light hurt.
Inumaki watched from the stairs, concern lacing his conscience. He twirled his thumbs thinking. Megumi covered for him countless times. He’s gotta cover this time. If Gojo asks, he’s gotta keep it secret. Megumi always does. He always does. But this time felt a little different. He looked behind him, this time, both of Megumi’s hands were in his pockets, and his steps seemed steady. So Toge allowed himself to relax, ignoring the nagging feeling that maybe this time he should break code and tell Gojo. Looking back onto the field, He saw Panda and Maki running drills, with no Yuji in sight. He scanned for him, before humping a little as he turned his head to be face to face with noe other than Itadori himself.
“Where did Fushigiro go?” He asked. Toge blinked. He pulled out his phone and started typing.
“Bathroom, I think, but he might stop at the vending machines first.” He lied. Yuj hummed in acknowledgement before looking behind Inumaki past the stairs. No Megumi.
“D’yo think he’s ok?” Yuji asked. Toge thought for a moment, taking in the concern he saw on his underclassmen’s brow. He quickly typed again, before turning his phone back around.
“I think he’s fine, but maybe text him. He seemed tired though, so he might just be sleeping.”
Toge internally praised himself for his quick thinking, because Itadori’s brow softened and he exhaled with a faint smile.
“Yeah, I’ll just text him.” He said, pulling his phone out. “Do you think a “Hey how are you doing, man?” is ok? Or should I say bro?” He asked. Toge smiled under his turtleneck. Hy typed once more on his phone before showing Yuji again.
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“Hey, how are you doing Fushigiro?”
After dragging himself back to his dorm, he can barely make it to his bed. He’s still wearing his shoes and uniform, still sweaty, head still throbbing. His mouth tastes funny and his fingers are starting to lose feeling. He wants nothing more than to personally fight the sun for its extinguishing. He couldn’t deny it any longer, his headache had officially evolved into a migraine.
Staring at the text on his phone, he debates how to reply. Yuji. Yuji is checking on him. Yuji who died in front of him, and still managed to be the one picking up his pieces.
“I’m doing ok, I’m just tired, texted Gojo I wont be in class tmrw, DW though, I’m ok, promise.”
He hits send. 30 seconds later a response.
“Did you actually tell Gojo you were too tired?” another message a few seconds later. “Promise?”
He stared for a second. If this was a migraine, he would have to tell Gojo, because he would need his prescription filled again.
“Yeah, I did, he said he’s be by with my hw”
Even fewer seconds this time.
“Okie dokie, sleep well Fushigiro, I’ll take notes :3”
He smiled at his phone for a second, looking forward to Yuji’s notes. He always drew on them, little doodles of their adventures together. They were never really that good, but they always were endearing to Megumi. He shifted for a moment to sit up better in bed, but was rudely reminded of his current predicament. His fingers were too numb to type a response, even as he tried. He wound up pitifully managing a “tyanj yiu” in response, electing more worry from Yuji that would have to wait, because he had more pressing matters in that instance.
He rushed from his bed to the bathroom, ignoring the numb, throbbing, pins and needles spreading through his limbs. He collapsed in front of the toilet, dry heaving his empty stomach into the bowl. Nothing came up, his throat just burned from stomach acid. After about five pitiful minutes of gagging, he managed to catch his breath enough to reach for his phone that he had dropped by the bathroom door in the commotion. He scrolled past the notifications from his classmates (including a very worried Itadori) and found Gojo. He saw there were already some worried texts from his white haired sensei.
“Itadori found me, said you were texting weird. You ok?”
“Itadori said you messaged me, but I didn’t see anything. I didn’t tell him that though. What’s going on Megs?”
“He said you were really tired, so I’m assuming you’re asleep, I’ll check on you tonight.”
All the messages were around 6 minutes apart, meaning he had already spent almost 20 minutes trying and failing to throw up. Considering it was still only the afternoon, he figured Gojo wouldn’t be over till later that night. That wasn’t soon enough.
Megumi curled up into himself, leaning against the shower wall, shoes still on, and called Gojo. He picked up on the third ring.
“Megumi, is everything ok Kiddo?” He asked, instantly. Seconds passed. “Megumi? Kid? What’s going on?” Megumi could hear whispers in the background. He was probably in training. Guilt pooled in his stomach, threatening to schedule him another appointment with the toilet bowl. He held his breath to dull his nausea, which only made his head pound harder.
“I’m gonna need a refill on my meds, I think” Is what he decided on to break the silence. There was a bit more silence and some shuffling, as he heard Gojo’s voice get quieter and closer to the microphone.
“Did you get a migraine, Megs?” He asked, Megumi whished he could just nod through the phone. But instead he just mustered an “mhm”
“Oh, Megs, I’ll be right over.” Megumi felt like crying. He didn’t say anything else, just hummed again and hung up. His head pounded. His back hurt from leaning on the shower wall. His hands were numb, his stomach hurt, and he really wished he could stand to reach the light switch to turn it off. It was unbearable. The bright white light seemed to reflect off of any clean surface and just amplified the pain of existing in the bathroom. He had to turn it off.
A lump formed in his throat as he forced himself to stand, using the counter and sink as a railing. He managed to pull himself just high enough to lightly brush the switch with his fingers. His chest felt like it was going to pop as he reached a little higher off the floor to switch it off. Relief flooded his vision as the assault on his eyes was dimmed. Unfortunately, lack of light includes missing the counter on the way down, and having your head land on the edge of the toilet you were just throwing up in.
He laid on his back on the floor. Too much pain in his eyes to react, or breathe, or think about what just happened. He might as well be dead. God how he didn’t miss this. Dissapointment flooded his entire self. Sure he used to get migraines a lot. Sure, he was “used to it”. But he sure as hell was disappointed. Over two years he was migraine free. But ever since…
He couldn’t finish that thought before he heard a soft knock on the bathroom doorframe. He hadn’t even heard his front dorm door.
“Gumi?” A voice whispered. It was Gojo. A beat of silence.
“Yeah.” Fushigiro breathily replies. He felt Gojo neal down next to him and cup his face. Gojo’s thumb went over his forehead. He flinched when he felt the forming bump on his head.
“Gumi did you fall?” He asked, patiently and quietly. Megumi almost burst into tears simply from the familiarity of it. He was 8 years old again, teenage Gojo first learning how to talk to him from Tsumiki when he got migraines. Megumi simply nodded.
“I was getting the light.” He replied. Gojo sighed and helped Megumi sit up. Everything in his body protested but he knew he couldn’t stay on the bathroom floor any longer. He hated how vulnerable he was, how much his childhood migraines still affected him.
“Is it time to renew your prescription?” Gojo asked, helping Megumi to his feet and directing him this bed. Megumi nodded, leaning into the softness of the bed as Gojo took off his shoes and uniform, pulling sweatpants and a sweatshirt over Megumi as he laid.
"Have you been hiding regular headaches again?" He asked. Megumi hiccuped, and let a tear fall. Gojo knew what it meant. He just tucked megumi in and sat at the foot of his bed till he fell asleep.
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Megumi woke up to a dark room, light barely filtering through his dark curtains. He cautiously looked around his room to see if his eyes still burned and if his head still throbbed.
The migraine was gone, but he was still tired. Bone tired. But the panic from yesterday that associated the pain had gone, replaced with an exhausted and defeated calm. He looked at his phone. It was two twenty in the afternoon, the next day. He noticed the notificatons were silenced, except for one notification.
Blue eyed freak;
"Hey, Megs, I turned off your alarms, refilled your script (Should get it friday) And set water and snacks out for you when you wake up, rest up and join us when youre ready, I'll be over tonight around 5."
Megumi smiled, and turned his phone back off. He grabbed the water off his desk, drank a bit, before curling back into his blankets and letting himself drift off. He'd be ok.