takumina | ( ic inbox );

( REALLY, megumi ... why are you so serious. )

You know I never mind if you visit.
You don't have to ask, for the record.

You might have something else to do during the day.

But, alright ... I'll be there soon.

[ They don't live too far away from each other, so a short while later, Gojo will hear a knock at his door. ]

And since when do I not drop everything if you want my attention?

( which is not untrue, never has been, even if he sometimes has a funny ( read: obnoxious ) way of giving megumi his attention when he's in a particular kind of mood. still, the boy doesn't often seek out his attention these days, so when he does, he's not about to turn him down for anything in the known world.

he opens the door when the knock comes, lightly leaning against the doorframe and peeking over the rim of his glasses. )

And when are you gonna start listening to me when I say you don't have to knock? C'mon in.

[ That last message is seen, and Megumi continues to process it as he walks the short distance to his mentor's home. When he thinks about it, it's not untrue, but he doesn't know what to do with that kind of knowledge. That someone with so many more important things to do would drop it all just because he calls out to them. It makes his heart sort of warm, but he still doesn't respond, leaving the guy on read. ]

You don't have to drop anything for me... [ He says quiet, awkwardly. They're still on that. Once inside, he reaches into his bag like he's going to take something out. ]

( he's more than a little bit used to being left on read, so he doesn't even think about it; the truth of the matter is that he's never not going to give the boy his full attention when he wants it, when it's warranted, when-the-hell-ever because fushiguro megumi's attention is a precious thing, and anything ( or anyone ) that manages to keep it for longer than a handful of seconds deserves a little bit of recognition.

not that he's saying he deserves some recognition for megumi having reached out to him in the first place, but that's neither here nor there. )

I don't, no, but that isn't the point. ( he steps away from the door, closing it behind megumi once he's made his way inside. ) The point is that I do at all, and I don't do that for just anyone. ( roundabout way of saying his boy is special, yes, even if he's being a little shit about it.

he notices him reaching for his bag, but doesn't comment on it. there might be a surprise to be had, and he doesn't want to ruin it! )

[ His teacher is trying to say that he's special, that he warrants the best of Gojo's attention whenever he asks for it. Megumi is smart enough to understand that, but it's still difficult for him to accept that he might be of significance to anyone. ]

I'll make sure to reach out to you when it's something worth your time then.

[ And it's just like Megumi to miss the point entirely, even if he understands the general meaning. Finally, he takes two modest boxes of chocolates out of his bag. The box itself is nothing special, but the chocolates inside look pristine enough to be store-bought, even if he made them. It's like he followed the recipe and the chef's instructions to the letter.

There's a note also. ]

To Gojo-sensei,

Thank you for taking care of Tsumiki and I, and teaching me everything that I know. I don't think I could repay this debt to you for as long as I live. Though this isn't much, please accept it.

Please live a long life. For my sake.

Also, don't eat all of this in one day.

- Megumi

[ Yeah, he doesn't know why he was compelled to write such a personal note, but it is what it is.

Glancing away, he pushes the two boxes in Gojo's direction. When he opens them, they will turn yellow, maroon and red. ]

( megumi … honestly. when will you realize he loves you more than anyone else?

he realizes that the smaller gestures mean more when it comes to the one he's looked after for so many years, that something that could be seen as grandeur could simply be passed off as who gojo is as a person because he's always had a flair for the dramatic and he's not about to stop, but when it comes to the things that really matter … he'll only ever want to be perceived as genuine.

and so he only bows his head in quiet acknowledgment at what megumi gives over. it's more than enough for him.

but then he takes the boxes of chocolates in one hand, the note in the other, and it takes him a moment to read it.

he reads it over a couple of times, and maybe he won't understand what compelled him to write just a personal note, either, but he takes it for everything it is and reaches out and tugs at the younger's sleeve, like the other had so often in his younger years, asking for his attention.

he doesn't say anything about the note, not yet. )

You made these?

[ That little tug is ... familiar. It does remind him of when he would do the same to the older man, when his clothes and sleeves was just about all he could reach. It looks like Gojo appreciates the gesture, and that's about all he wanted out of this endeavor. There's a step taken closer in response to the light tug. ]

Under the guidance of a chef, yes. [ He doesn't take credit if it's not warranted. ]

It's my first time making any sort of sweet, so I hope the taste is agreeable. [ He did try his own chocolates first to make sure they weren't horrible, but Megumi is not very fond of chocolate to begin with, so he's a poor gauge of quality and taste in this regard. ]

( when he doesn't go against the tug, when he takes a step closer it's all the incentive gojo needs to pull him in the rest of the way, to wrap him in a hug the way he had when he was smaller and easier to do it to. if he fought him now, he might just give him a run for his money.

but. assuming he doesn't pull out of the embrace too soon, gojo is going to press a soft, brief kiss to his forehead beneath the fall of his bangs, something subtle enough that he should be able to pass it off as inconsequential if he wants.

but a part of him hopes he doesn't. )

I'm sure it tastes fine. ( and he means that. ) It's the thought that counts, don't you think?

Hey -- [ Megumi does want to protest when he's scooped in by those long, gangling arms, but he barely gets a sword or shove out before it's too late, and he's encapsulated in the warmth and sweet, flowery scent of this man he's known for most of his life.

And then, the soft kiss against his forehead ... Oh, he's really blushing now, feeling overwhelmed from just that small gesture of affection. When he thinks about it, throughout his life, most of the affection he has received has been from this one man right here. He's always been supporting him, spending time with him when he really doesn't have to, when he should be busy with someone else because he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. Why? Megumi never understood. The same way he doesn't understand why his teacher likes being close to him so much.

What he does understand ... is what he's missed, these past few months since that catastrophe in Shibuya. The stupid daily texts and emojis. The souvenirs and snacks. The special attention he keeps trying to push away. He lost all of that in one day, when he lost this man.

He misses him.

And that's why Megumi relaxes when he would usually tense up at close contact, allowing those arms to encircle him. His own touch is shy, but smaller hands creep up and grip onto that tall back, clutching the fabric in a needy way. There's something desperate in his touch, which should be Gojo's first clue that something is wrong - that there's something they just haven't told him. Megumi buries his face into the older man's chest, letting those memories of his childhood wash through him, and just basking this way -- because he can. Here, he can do this. When they return home? He doesn't know. ]

Quiet for a second ...

( he's known for a while that something is wrong — that there's something they aren't telling him — but he hasn't pushed, hasn't pressed because it isn't his right to do so in the first place. he thinks that maybe, in time, megumi or yuji or both of them will finally come clean about what they're keeping from him, and until that time comes, he has to believe they're doing it for the right reasons.

they trust him, and in turn, he has to trust their reasoning. the method to their madness. so —

he only hums a low, quiet note in the back of his throat when the demand for quiet comes, turning to rest his cheek against the top of the other's head, the way soft, dark hair tickles his nose reminding him of how he used to coerce him into hugs when he was much younger, much smaller, and it was too damned easy to hold him like this.

that, at the very least, hasn't changed.

his hold tightens infinitesimally and one hand slips up to smooth over the back of his neck, through the ends of his hair in what he hopes comes across as a soothing gesture, something that means i'll always be here for you, if i have anything to say about it.

and for once in his damned life … he's quiet, and he stays that way. )

( ic inbox );

un: gogo;

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