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I Saw You

The Weight of a Hollow Promise

The silence of the infirmary was no longer the peaceful quiet of recovery; it was the heavy, suffocating stillness of a tomb. It had been three days since Yuji returned to stop Megumi from ending his own life, and the air between them felt like glass—thin, sharp, and ready to shatter at the slightest breath.

Megumi sat on the edge of the hospital bed, his frame gaunt. The IV drip clicked rhythmically, a metronome for their stagnant lives. His eyes, dark and sunken, never left Yuji, who was sitting by the window, staring out at the training grounds where they used to be a team.

"You haven't eaten the fruit Nobara brought," Yuji said, his voice flat. He didn't turn around.

"I don't deserve it," Megumi whispered. His voice was raspy from the chemicals that had pumped through his system to flush out the pills. "I don't deserve anything you're giving me right now. The fact that you’re even in this room... it’s more than I should have."

Yuji finally turned. The sunlight hit his face, highlighting the faint, yellowish bruises on his wrists—the fading marks of the cursed rope. Megumi flinched at the sight, his stomach churning with a visceral, acidic self-loathing.

"Stop doing that," Yuji said.

"Doing what?"

"The self-pity. The 'I don't deserve it' routine." Yuji stood up, his movements slow and deliberate. "You used your own life to force me back here, Megumi. You don't get to play the martyr now that you’ve got what you wanted. I’m here. Isn't that enough?"

Megumi’s hands shook. He reached out, wanting to touch Yuji’s sleeve, but pulled back at the last second. "I didn't want to force you. I just... I couldn't see a world where you looked at me with that much disgust. I thought if I was gone, you wouldn't have to carry the memory of what I did."

"That’s a lie," Yuji countered, stepping closer until he was standing directly over Megumi. "You did it because you knew I’d come back. You knew I couldn't let you die, even after you tied me up and told me I was a liar. You used the one thing you know about me—that I value life—to chain me to you."

Megumi looked up, tears blurring his vision. He slid off the bed, his knees hitting the linoleum with a dull thud. He wrapped his arms around Yuji’s waist, burying his face in the crook of Yuji’s stomach. He smelled like ozone and laundry detergent—a scent Megumi had once associated with safety, but which now felt like a reproach.

"I’m sick, Yuji. I’m obsessed. I know it’s toxic," Megumi sobbed, his voice muffled by the fabric. "But please. Hit me. Hurt me back. Do something other than look at me like I’m a stranger. I’ll be your dog. I’ll let you restrict me, I’ll let you lock me away—just don't leave me alone."

Yuji didn't move. He didn't return the embrace, but he didn't pull away either. He simply looked down at the top of Megumi’s head. "I don't want a dog, Megumi. I wanted a partner. I wanted the guy who told me to save people. Where did he go?"

"He died in Shinjuku," Megumi choked out. "He died when he realized that everyone leaves him eventually. Tsumiki. My father. Gojo-sensei. I couldn't let you be next. When I saw you with Yuta... it wasn't just jealousy. It was terror. I saw you finding a version of happiness that didn't require me, and I realized I’m nothing without you."

A heavy shadow fell across the doorway. Gojo Satoru stood there, leaning against the frame. His usual exuberant energy was dampened, replaced by a cold, analytical gaze. Behind him, Nobara stood with her arms crossed, her eyes red-rimmed from a mixture of anger and grief.

"This is pathetic, Megumi," Nobara said, her voice cutting through the room like a blade. "I thought the Zenin were supposed to have pride. This isn't love. It’s a hostage situation."

Megumi didn't look at her. He only tightened his grip on Yuji.

"Let him go for a second, Megumi," Gojo said quietly. "We need to talk. All of us."

"No," Megumi hissed, his voice suddenly feral. He looked back at Gojo, his eyes flashing with a desperate, manic intensity. "You’ll take him away. You’ll tell him he’s better off without me. You all want him for yourselves—to be the 'Sun' of Jujutsu High. But he’s mine. I’m the one who stayed when he was supposed to be executed."

Gojo sighed, stepping into the room. The air pressure shifted—the Weight of Infinity making it hard to breathe. "Yuji is his own person, Megumi. If you keep trying to swallow him whole, you’re just going to choke. And Yuta... well, Yuta is waiting outside. He has some things to say about the 'truth' he told you."

Yuji gently pried Megumi’s hands off him. "I'm not going anywhere right now. I’m just going to the door."

He walked over to the threshold where Yuta was standing. Yuta looked tired, his dark circles deeper than usual. He looked past Yuji at Megumi, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips—a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

"I heard you tried to take a shortcut, Fushiguro-kun," Yuta said, his tone conversational but laced with a subtle venom. "It’s a shame. Yuji was just starting to tell me how much he appreciated the space I was giving him."

Megumi’s face contorted. He tried to stand, but his legs gave out, and he remained on the floor, trembling. "You planned this. You knew I’d snap."

"I knew you were unstable," Yuta corrected. "I just provided a mirror. If you didn't like what you saw in it, that’s hardly my fault. I care about Yuji’s well-being. If he stays with you, he’ll wither away. But if he comes with me... he can actually breathe."

"Shut up!" Megumi screamed, a surge of cursed energy flickering around him, shadows dancing violently against the walls. "Get out! All of you! Yuji, tell them to leave!"

Yuji looked at the chaos. He looked at Nobara’s pitying expression, Gojo’s disappointment, and Yuta’s calculated 'kindness.' Then he looked at Megumi, who was a broken mess on the floor, willing to destroy himself and everyone else just to keep a fragment of Yuji’s attention.

"Everyone, leave," Yuji said. His voice wasn't loud, but it carried a weight that silenced the room.

"Yuji, you can't be serious," Nobara started.

"Please," Yuji said, looking at her. "I need to handle this."

Reluctantly, they filed out. Yuta was the last to leave, his hand lingering on the doorframe. He caught Yuji’s eye for a moment, a silent offer still standing in the air, before he disappeared into the hallway.

Yuji closed the door and locked it. He walked back to Megumi and sat on the floor across from him.

"You’re starving yourself," Yuji observed.

"I can't eat," Megumi whispered.

"And you’re cutting." Yuji reached out and pulled back the sleeve of Megumi’s hospital gown, revealing the jagged, fresh scars of his name carved into the skin.

Megumi sobbed, trying to pull his arm away, but Yuji held firm.

"You think this shows how much you love me?" Yuji asked. "It doesn't. It shows how much you want to control me. You’re making your pain my responsibility. Every time I look at your arms, I’m supposed to feel guilty, right? I’m supposed to think, 'Oh, I have to be perfect, or Megumi will hurt himself again.'"

"No, it’s not like that—"

"It is exactly like that," Yuji interrupted. He leaned in, his face inches from Megumi’s. For the first time, there was a spark of something sharp in Yuji’s eyes—a flicker of the strength he’d used to take down the King of Curses. "You want to be dominant? You want to be the one in charge? Then take charge of yourself. Because I’m tired of being your nurse and your prisoner."

Megumi’s breath hitched. "What do you want me to do?"

"I want you to eat. I want you to go to therapy with Shoko. And I want you to stop touching me like I’m something you bought." Yuji’s voice softened, but it remained firm. "I’m staying. For now. Because I don't want your blood on my hands. But if you ever—ever—tie me up again, or try to guilt-trip me with a bottle of pills, I will leave, and I will never look back. Do you understand?"

Megumi nodded frantically, reaching out to grasp Yuji’s hand. This time, Yuji let him, but his fingers remained limp.

"I'll do it. I promise. I’ll be better," Megumi pleaded. "Just... stay tonight. In the bed with me. I can’t sleep. The shadows... they keep showing me you leaving."

Yuji sighed, the sound of a man carrying a world he never asked for. He stood up and helped Megumi back into the hospital bed. The space was cramped, but Yuji climbed in beside him.

Almost immediately, Megumi was on top of him, his movements desperate and clumsy. He pressed his face into Yuji’s neck, his hands roaming over Yuji’s chest with a frantic, possessive heat. He began to kiss Yuji’s throat, his teeth grazing the skin with a hunger that bordered on violence.

"Megumi, stop," Yuji said, his hands flat against Megumi’s shoulders.

"Please," Megumi groaned, his voice breaking. "I need to feel you. I need to know you’re real. I need to be inside you, Yuji. Please. Just this once, let me have this. I’ll be good after, I swear."

He was begging, his pride completely stripped away, leaving only a raw, pulsing nerve of need. He began to pull at Yuji’s clothes, his movements frantic. When Yuji didn't immediately resist, Megumi took it as permission.

He pinned Yuji’s arms above his head, his weight crushing Yuji into the mattress. It wasn't the romantic intimacy they had once shared; it was a desperate attempt to reclaim territory. Megumi’s kisses were hard, tasting of salt and copper. He used his knees to force Yuji’s legs apart, his breath coming in ragged, shallow gasps.

"I love you," Megumi whispered against Yuji’s lips, though it sounded more like a threat. "You’re mine. You’re mine, Yuji. Say it."

Yuji laid there, his eyes fixed on the ceiling tiles. He felt the cold air on his skin as his shirt was pushed up. He felt the familiar, grounding weight of Megumi’s body, but it felt different now—heavy, like lead.

"I’m here, Megumi," Yuji said quietly. He didn't say 'I’m yours.'

Megumi didn't seem to notice the distinction. He was lost in the tactile reality of Yuji’s presence. He moved with a feverish intensity, his hands bruising Yuji’s hips as he sought a release for the week of agony he’d endured.

As Megumi finally collapsed against him, spent and trembling, he curled into Yuji’s side, his eyes finally fluttering shut. Within minutes, the exhaustion of his ordeal won out, and he fell into a deep, drug-like sleep.

Yuji remained awake. He stayed perfectly still, even when his arm fell asleep under Megumi’s weight. He watched the shadows of the trees outside dance on the wall, cast by the moonlight.

He thought about Yuta’s manipulative kindness. He thought about Gojo’s inability to fix the hearts of his students. He thought about Nobara’s anger.

But mostly, he thought about the phrase he had told Megumi earlier.

*Starting from zero.*

He looked down at the man sleeping on his chest—the man who had tried to die to keep him, the man who had hurt him to protect his own ego. Yuji reached out and slowly stroked Megumi’s hair, a gesture of profound, tragic pity.

He would stay. He would help Megumi rebuild. He would be the anchor that kept Megumi from drifting into the dark. But as he lay there in the quiet of the infirmary, Yuji realized with a hollow ache in his chest that while he could save Megumi’s life, he might never be able to save their love.

The trust wasn't just cracked; it had been ground into dust. And as Megumi’s grip tightened on him even in sleep, Yuji closed his eyes and wondered how long a person could live in a house built of ashes before they forgot what it was like to breathe.

Outside, the wind picked up, rattling the windowpane. In the distance, the faint sound of a training whistle blew—the world moving on, oblivious to the quiet, devastating reconstruction happening in Room 402.

Yuji didn't cry. He just held the man who had broken him, waiting for the morning to come, knowing that every sunrise from now on would be a little less bright than the ones before. He had chosen to stay, but in the silence of the night, he knew that choosing someone else’s life over your own heart was a sacrifice that never truly ended.