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It’s one of the rare times Megumi lets Itadori hang out in his room. Megumi’s sat at his desk, while Itadori’s sprawled out on his bed, his pink hair and yellow hoodie standing out against the navy duvet. One’s at least pretending to get schoolwork done, while the other is playing with the strings of his hoodie, staring up at the ceiling.
“Hey, Fushiguro?”
A pause. Then a short sigh.
“Yes, Itadori?”
“Do you believe in god?”
This grabs Megumi’s full attention. He turns in his seat so he’s facing the other.
“Why?”
Itadori just shrugs. When it’s clear Megumi’s not getting more of an answer than that, he hums.
“Not really. I prefer to put my faith in people.”
It’s Itadori’s turn to hum. He tilts his head until he’s looking at Megumi upside-down.
“What about the afterlife?”
“What about it?”
“Do you think there is one?”
Megumi hesitates.
“What’s this about?”
Itadori shrugs again.
“Just curious.”
Megumi catches the slight hesitation, the brief pause in his fiddling with his hoodie strings.
“You’re lying. What’s this really about?”
Itadori stops his fidgeting and sits up, putting his weight on his hands.
“I guess I keep thinking about what’s going to happen after.”
“After what?”
“After we find all of Sukuna’s fingers. After—After I’m executed.”
Megumi's eyes go wide. Itadori’s execution is something they never talk about. It’s like an unspoken rule between them. Losing him once was brutal, something he can’t stand the thought of going through again. He can’t imagine Itadori feels any better about the idea than he does. So they don’t talk about it. It’s a mutually beneficial avoidance. It works out for them. It did, anyway.
Itadori takes his silence as an invitation to continue.
“I know it has to happen. I’ve accepted that. I just…I’ve never thought about what’ll happen to me after I die. I know I've already died once, but I don't remember anything from that. I don't know. I think I’m just confused about it.”
Confused isn’t the right word. He can tell what he’s really trying to say.
Itadori’s trying to say that he’s scared.
This whole conversation is really starting to piss Megumi off.
He stands abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor.
“The hell do you mean you’ve just accepted it?” His voice raises more than he means it to, and Itadori looks startled by it. He’s too angry to feel all that badly about it, though.
“I mean, I kinda have to accept it, don’t I?” he asks, his voice irritatingly calm.
His mind conjures up the image of Itadori, having consumed all twenty fingers, going off to be executed with a smile, not letting Megumi see just how scared he is, even at the end. It makes his heart sink to his stomach to think that it could become reality someday soon.
“No, you can’t just—” he stops himself, searching for the right words.
Itadori waits patiently. He leans forward, legs crossed and elbows resting on his thighs.
“Give up,” Megumi finally says, his voice quieter.
Itadori looks down at his lap and starts messing with his hoodie strings again.
“What do you want me to say?”
“Just be honest with me. Admit you’re afraid. That you don’t want to die,” he presses, raising his voice again.
“Of course I don’t want to die,” Itadori snaps. With that admission, the tension breaks, eases.
Itadori’s fists clench in his lap.
“I don’t want to die, Fushiguro,” he says, voice soft and painfully vulnerable.
Megumi walks over to the bed and sits beside him.
“I know,” he says.
Itadori is looking at him like he’s the last life preserver on a sinking ship, saved just for him. He feels the warmth of Itadori’s hand in his, probably looking for reassurance. Wanting to give it to him, he squeezes his hand. Itadori squeezes his back.
Megumi’s heart races and his cheeks warm at the sudden intensity of Itadori’s attention. Itadori’s gaze flickers down to Megumi’s lips and his heart somehow races faster. He feels like he’s burning alive, like he needs to run away before he does something stupid.
So he looks away, killing the moment before it can really start. Itadori doesn't seem to mind though. He never pushes, never asks for more than he's given.
“I should go. Let you study,” Itadori says, standing.
Slowly, he makes his way to the door.
“Itadori.”
He whirls around.
“If you think that I’m—that any of us are going to let you get executed, then you really are an idiot.”
Itadori smiles at that. Of course he does. Megumi feels a tugging in his chest at the sight, like that smile has its own gravitational force.
“You really are a good guy, Fushiguro.”
And then he’s gone.
Megumi’s not stupid. He knows how he feels about Itadori. It started not long after they met, and has only gotten stronger since. Lately, it’s seemed like Itadori might even feel the same way, though that could just be wishful thinking on his part. And anyway, it’s not like it matters when he knows he doesn’t deserve to be with him. He’s not even sure he deserves him as a friend, most days. Still, he feels the ghost of Itadori’s touch on his hand the rest of the day. He tries not to think about the way Itadori looked at him, tries not to wrestle with the inner turmoil of wanting that attention on him all the time and wanting to run from it forever.
***
Megumi jolts awake to the sound of light knocking on his door. Foggy remnants of a dream cling to the edges of his consciousness, but they fade too quickly for him to remember any details.
“Fushiguro?” He hears Itadori’s voice muffled by the door.
He drags himself out of bed with some difficulty and answers it, aware too late of the bedhead he’s probably sporting. Despite being the one to knock, Itadori almost looks surprised when Megumi answers the door.
“Itadori,” he grumbles.
“Hey,” Itadori says awkwardly.
Megumi waits with more patience than he usually has for Itadori to explain himself. He looks back at the clock, which reads 2:15 and sighs inwardly.
“I was just…um…” Itadori struggles to look at him until he takes a sharp breath in and lifts his gaze to Megumi’s. “Do you want to take a walk with me?” He blurts out.
Megumi sighs outwardly this time.
“Do you have any idea what time it is?”
Itadori’s eyes go wide with mild panic.
“Oh. No, not really. I haven’t really been…sorry.” He hangs his head in defeat. “I’ll let you sleep.”
He turns to leave.
“Wait,” Megumi calls.
Itadori whips around with a hopeful look. Megumi pinches the bridge of his nose in slight disbelief that he’s indulging Itadori like this when he should really be sleeping.
“Just…give me a minute. Let me get dressed.”
Megumi’s glad he brought a jacket given the chill in the air. Even with it on he still can’t help the slight shiver that crawls up his back. Itadori has a flashlight, but there’s a full moon, so with the bright moonlight creeping between the towering trees they can see somewhat well without it.
“Where the hell are you taking me, Itadori?”
“You’ll see. We’re almost there.”
After a while longer of walking they come across large wooden gates, and inside…
“You took me to the cemetery?”
Itadori smiles.
“Gojo showed it to me today. He said it’s a good place to go for…privacy.”
Megumi’s grateful for the cold night air having already made his cheeks flushed, making the blush there imperceptible. He crosses his arms as he knits his brows together.
“You idiot. It’s two in the morning. We could’ve had privacy just about anywhere.”
Itadori pauses, like he genuinely hadn’t thought of that before he laughs nervously.
“I guess you’re right. Still, I like this place. There’s something weirdly comforting about it, don’t you think?”
Megumi takes in the scene as they pass through the gates. Grave beds are littered with wildflowers, some of which seem especially bright in the moonlight. Despite the wildflowers, the rest of the graveyard seems oddly well maintained. There must be someone taking care of it. Maybe they let the wildflowers grow in the absence of people visiting with offerings. For a graveyard, it is sort of pretty, if you can forget about its function. He’s about to say as much when he notices one grave in particular has a fresh bouquet resting there. Megumi wanders over to check out the recipient grave and Itadori follows.
He can feel Itadori looming over his shoulder as they look at the grave. The stone is small and blank.
“Gojo-sensei kept looking at this one earlier. I wonder if he’s the one who brought the flowers,” Itadori says. His voice is quiet and soft and close enough to Megumi’s ear that he has to fight another wave of shivers.
“Probably not,” Megumi says, even though Itadori’s likely right. For a sorcerer Gojo’s age, it’d be weirder if he didn’t have any friends buried here.
Itadori just hums thoughtfully in response before backing away. There’s a bench directly behind them where he sits, and Megumi reluctantly joins him.
“I wanted to say sorry,” Itadori says suddenly, “for earlier.”
“Itadori—”
“I upset you,” he says quietly.
Megumi hesitates, then gives a resigned sigh.
“Yeah. You did."
“It felt good to finally admit that, though, so I guess I should thank you, too."
Megumi scoffs.
"You don't need to thank me for anything."
Itadori smiles.
"I knew you'd say that." He pauses before adding: "There's another reason I brought you here."
Megumi looks at him questioningly.
“Gojo told me that I shouldn’t be worrying about that kinda stuff. He said I should be focusing on the present. On things that matter.” He returns Megumi’s gaze with a glint in his eye that tells Megumi he means more than he’s saying. “On the people that matter.”
Megumi's breath catches. Itadori's gaze is warm, fondness sparkling in the brown irises. Itadori takes his hand and leans in close. Megumi's heart nearly jumps out of his chest as his eyes go wide.
“Itadori?”
Itadori smiles at him again, a small thing, almost teasing.
“If I don’t have long to live, then I want to make the most of the time I do have. I can’t do that without telling you how important you are to me, Fushiguro.”
He leans in even closer, eyes falling to Megumi’s lips.
“Can I show you?” Itadori asks, his voice practically a whisper, as if all the souls haunting this cemetery might somehow overhear them. “How much you matter to me?”
This should be where Megumi backs away again, where he says no. He’s told himself time and time again that he'll never be good enough for Itadori. That Itadori deserves someone who matches his kind spirit. But pulling away feels impossible. He frantically fights with what he wants and what he should do. Of all people, it’s Gojo’s voice in his head that’s the tiebreaker, the voice of reason, or maybe the voice of insanity.
Don't be an idiot. You can be selfish sometimes.
Normally he doesn’t bother listening to Gojo unless it’s on a mission, but it’s not really him saying it, is it? No matter who’s saying it, it’s hard to ignore that logic when Itadori’s looking at him like he’d punch a crater in the moon if he asked him to. Nobody’s ever looked at him like that before. And if nobody but Itadori ever looked at him that way again, he thinks he wouldn’t mind.
So for once he doesn’t run away, he doesn’t brush Itadori off.
He nods.
A warmth blooms his chest when Itadori’s lips meet his, like his heart is coated in honey. Maybe that’s why it’s not racing like it was earlier, slowed by the sweetness of Itadori’s mouth, or maybe comforted by the safety of his arms. Itadori, for all his quiet confidence, stumbles his way through the first few seconds, and it’s actually annoyingly adorable how clumsy he is. But then he finds a rhythm and Megumi’s brain goes fuzzy. Suddenly Megumi begins to second guess this decision not for the reasons he had before, but because at this rate he might actually become addicted to kissing Itadori, which would be a problem.
When they pull back, it takes Megumi a few tries to form a sentence.
“You—uh…I—hm.” He takes a shallow breath and tries again. “You matter to me too, Itadori.”
Itadori smiles bright enough to rival the full moon and leans in again, but he skirts around Megumi’s lips and kisses his cheek instead, which makes Megumi’s face flush embarrassingly more than actually kissing him did.
“I know."