Chapter Text
Megumi knew it was coming — all the telltale signs were there. It's always an omega, a girl this time, and it's always right around the corner of the school gym. They break into Megumi's locker or leave their notes inside his outside shoes so he finds them before heading back home. How many times has it happened since the school year started? He thinks, by now used to the awkwardness of being on the receiving end of an unwanted confession.
How many times has it been this week? Thirteen. It's a rough estimate, the boy who said he thought Megumi was ‘that one idol’ to save face doesn't count.
Unlucky number thirteen is bowing — her hands tremble as she holds the box of chocolates. Store bought. When it becomes apparent that Megumi won't accept her gift she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. Her ponytail is loose and a few more strands of hair frame her now reddened face. She's teary-eyed but looks determined not to cry in front of the boy who's rejecting her.
It's nice when they try to stay strong, not to show any weakness. Megumi finds it a much more preferable outcome than when they lash out in anger or — god forbid— when they break into tears.
“Sorry,” Megumi finally says and he's surprised to hear no emotion in his voice. He's a creature of habit. While he once felt guilt eat him up for trampling all over their feelings, the confessions just kept happening to him — as if there was no other alpha available in their school. Somehow, the colder he becomes, the more interest he garners.
“Why? Do you…” the girl now rubs her eyes with a closed fist. She's not quite crying yet but, judging by her trembling shoulders, she's close. “Do you already have a girlfriend?”
This is new. They usually could care less about that. It's sufficient for Megumi to just reject them plainly but number thirteen is stubborn like a persistent mosquito — she won't be satisfied until her hopes are thoroughly crushed.
Megumi sighs and shoves his hands inside his pockets.
“No,” he grumbles but that's not the whole truth. He does have someone — it's just that Megumi hasn't confessed to them. (How could he when it's so complicated between them?)
His mind immediately drifts back home, where Suguru is presumably doing the laundry or meal prepping. Megumi can't really say — but by the time he gets back, Suguru will make it look like the house has always been in tiptop shape and pretend Toji isn't the source of the disarray it's in. The old man — Megumi's biological father— hasn't been dropping by in a while and, judging by Suguru's tear stricken face, it's unlikely that he'll return this time.
Megumi wants to feel sorry about that but, even though Suguru is dropping weight and pretending their finances aren't as tight as they are without Toji… Megumi is actually glad that deadbeat has left for good. With him gone, Suguru doesn't have to cover the hickeys with makeup — sending Megumi into an early rut.
Anyhow, that's where Megumi’s mind naturally goes every single time Itadori asks him about his romantic interests or lack thereof. Another thought comes to the surface of his consciousness:
It's been a while since Suguru's been in heat. Almost exactly before Toji disappeared, leaving Suguru with his unpaid debt and Megumi as the sole alpha of their household.
“Then, if there's no girlfriend… Are you… into someone else?”
Oh, he's almost forgotten about Thirteen. She's still holding out for an answer but, thankfully, the box of chocolates is nowhere to be seen — as if it never existed in the first place. Eager to put an end to the conversation, Megumi pointedly nods. The corners of his mouth tremble like they always do when he's an anxious mess but trying to keep it together. In fact, he's sure his expression must be one of complete impatience.
“Okay,” she agrees and, finally, she appears to have given up. Drying the tears that have started streaming down her face with the back of her trembling hand, she shoots Megumi a tight smile. “I hope whoever you like is deserving of your affection.”
Deserving?
Megumi leaves, his fist clenched inside his pocket.
If only she knew the whole story.
--
“Things are going to change around here, brat,” Toji snaps at Megumi, who has fallen asleep on the couch. He's puked all over the carpet and there are empty cans of beers everywhere — on the low table and toppled over next to the couch’s legs. Dorito dust and chips cover the remaining surface of the table. Toji picks up the only can that hasn't been opened until right now.
“What a waste,” he laments, taking a sip and finding it lukewarm. He pours it all over Megumi's head, who jumps up ready to brawl with his — unfairly big — father. Towering over him, Toji exudes an aura of danger. He likes to fight and Megumi has it on good authority that his old man takes part in illegal fights during the weekends. Since he works at a construction site, no one would bat an eye in the unlikely event that he turned up banged up.
Except that has yet to happen. Toji is more adept at surviving in chaos than in polite society. By the looks of it, so is his son. How does the old saying go? The apple doesn't fall far from the tree.
“Has that Itadori kid dropped by?” Toji taunts, knowing full well Itadori has never set foot inside their little apartment and for good reason. Megumi knows his only friend in the world lives with his grandpa. They have their issues — who doesn't?— but they're normal people, respectable people. It's enough that Itadori disapproves of Megumi’s behavior at school. If he knew the kind of treatment he receives at home… Megumi couldn't bear the embarrassment.
“I'm not drunk enough that I can't smash your teeth in,” Megumi answers with a provocation of his own — an empty one.
Normally, Toji would rise to the occasion and Megumi would be coming back to school with more than a black eye but — strangely — Toji squares up his shoulders and does nothing. He offers Megumi a tight smile.
“You have twenty minutes to clean this up and get changed,” he orders and Megumi reluctantly starts picking up the empty cans, wrinkling his nose at the foul smell coming from the carpet. “I have someone coming over and they might want to say hi to your sorry ass.”
--
Megumi expected another one of Toji's trollops — heavily made-up, wearing a skimpy, almost sheer dress and high heels. It's not that Megumi can't appreciate the aesthetic behind it, or the obvious sexual appeal, but he knows Toji doesn't intend to keep them around for longer than he can fuck them — once or twice if they're lucky— so Megumi never bothers to remember their names or give much thought to their obvious attempts at getting on his good side.
That won't do you any favors, he sometimes thinks. It's not like Toji cares if Megumi likes them or not and they both know he considers these omegas single use friends. It's a term Toji used and Megumi is certain he must have heard somewhere and didn't come up with himself.
Thankfully, Suguru is nothing like that.
“Hello?” He says by way of greeting, hesitantly rapping on the frame of their open front door but entering anyway. He toes off his shoes by the genkan, a detail that doesn't slip past Megumi. Suguru is wearing his dark hair down — it's shiny and well kept and it goes past his waist. His shoulders are broad and he stands straight and alert like a soldier but his almond shaped eyes soften when he notices Megumi on his knees, scraping the carpet clean.
“You must be Toji's son,” he says and his tone is somewhere between slightly malicious and jaunty — as though he knows more about Megumi than he lets on. (Later on and as time goes by and Suguru becomes a daily fixture in his life, Megumi comes to realize this is just how Suguru is when he's nervous).
“Hey,” Megumi says and, when Suguru extends his hand to shake his in a show of camaraderie, Megumi finally takes notice of Suguru’s ill fitting high school uniform — his sleeve rides up his underarm enough that it's clear Suguru outgrew this jacket at least a few months ago. A runaway, then. No wonder he fell into Toji's clutches so easily.
“Want some help?” Suguru offers instead of scrunching up his nose at the still lingering puke smell or at the obvious beer stains on the couch. Megumi is about to make a snarky comment — isn't this person a runaway and probably only one or two years older than him? Where does he get off acting so high and mighty? — but when Megumi lifts his head up, all he can see in Suguru's brown eyes is compassion.
Megumi doesn't know what to even do with compassion. It's not something he's ever experienced before — not since his mom passed away.
“Suguru,” Toji calls him from the kitchen before Megumi can even form a proper response in his head — it irks him to this day that he found out Suguru's name from that brute instead of Suguru introducing himself. “Come here. You need to improve if you want to beat your next opponent,” Toji drawls, already taking a fresh six pack from the fridge. “There's a big cash prize.”
Which he intends to keep for himself, Megumi frowns, sparing a concerned look towards Suguru who turns around briefly before entering the kitchen. Suguru winks at him like he can read his thoughts — as if to say I've got this.
Maybe Toji Fushiguro, the great swindler, will be the one coming out empty handed this time around. The thought puts a smile on Megumi's face.
(Oh, if only Megumi would have known that his old man wasn't after the cash. On the other hand, if Suguru hadn't become his young, much too young, stepmother… Megumi doesn't even want to consider the alternative.)
--
Suguru was the only omega participating in those illegal fights so, naturally, he caught Toji's attention right away. Even if he looked nothing like those pretty little things Toji was used to bringing back home after getting wasted or when he lost money on a bad bet. This is what Megumi gathered watching the two of them interact. The more Suguru challenged his father, the less he was punished for it.
The only marks left on his body were a product of their rough lovemaking, which Megumi had tried to tune out ever since Suguru graduated from a passing acquaintance and moved into the shabby two bedroom apartment they were all forced to share.
Try to tune it out… That's kind of a generous expression, isn't it? If not a blatant lie. In fact, after the second night in a row of Suguru's moaning, Megumi abandoned all pretense of respectability. He blamed the thin walls for the sounds that carried as he took his member out of his pants — stroking it to full hardness.
That was the first night of many. In fact, Megumi had begun to anticipate the nights in which Toji stayed in. The ones were it was guaranteed that he'd get to hear Suguru’s low moans and bring himself to completion — often, Megumi could close his eyes at any moment of the day, even in company, and remember Suguru's voice and the incessant squeaking of the mattress. More or harder being the more popular requests that came from those full lips.
Those days, Megumi spent as if in a daze.
--
“You smoke?” Megumi asks, shooting Suguru a look full of concern. He expects Suguru’s inner omega to pick up on this but he never even lifts his head up. Suguru is sitting on the steps that lead into the small apartment complex, a lit cigarette dangling from his pink lips. It should be a nasty habit and Megumi would definitely despise it in Toji… If he was still around to hate and secretly envy.
“Want one?” Suguru offers and when his eyes finally meet Megumi's… Megumi almost takes a step back. Suguru has definitely been crying — he's sporting dark circles under his eyes too, he's probably been up all night worrying about that good for nothing Megumi has the displeasure of calling dad. “Come here, you're old enough to try. If you want to, that is but…” and here Suguru makes a pause, his smile shy and insincere, “it would make me feel less lonely if you smoked.”
The with me is left hanging in the air between them. Well, how could Megumi say no after that? He sighs dramatically before dropping next to Suguru and taking the offered cigarette from Suguru's long fingers. This close, Megumi notices that his black nail polish has begun to chip and the tips of Suguru's fingers are cold to the touch. He hasn't been eating much as of late.
Megumi inspects his cigarette and he scrapes the little wheel of Suguru's engraved lighter a couple of times — almost drops it. It's the one expensive thing Suguru owns, he keeps it with him at all times and — apart from the convenience of refilling it instead of getting a cheap plastic one — it's surprising for him to treasure something so… unlike him.
(The engraved initials read simply S.G in cursive but Megumi has the funny idea that those two letters mean more to Suguru than just his own name.)
Megumi coughs — smoke fills his lungs and brings tears to his eyes.
“Why… How can you like this?” He asks, genuinely, while fighting his coughing fit. Suguru's tired eyes land on him once again and they seem to finally be seeing Megumi for who he is. Just like waking up from a dream, suddenly Suguru isn't his not-stepmother and de facto guardian but just another kid. One who's seen entirely too much but experience can't be measured in years — Suguru might be twenty but in just two years he's managed to shake Megumi's whole world.
(Megumi's suddenly reminded, as Suguru cackles next to him — his first good laugh in a while since Toji disappeared a little more than a month ago — that he'll be turning eighteen in just a few more days. Maybe then his childish dream of holding Suguru’s hand as more than what they currently are will not be so far-fetched.)
--
“I…don't think he's coming back,” Suguru whispers and Megumi feels bad that he's eavesdropping — even if it's an accident. After Thirteen finally realized Megumi wouldn't return her feelings and start courting her, Megumi decided to skip second period and head back home. Normally, he would enlist Kugisaki — his only other friend apart from Itadori — but she might insist on going shopping and bring Megumi along to carry her bags.
(And besides, Kugisaki is sharp and she comes from a broken household – an unhappy childhood that she keeps to herself. They're friends out of necessity and she would instantly pick up on Megumi's inner thoughts. She already suspects Megumi of being intensely attached to his father's omega but, being a beta, Kugisaki has no idea just how right she is.)
Suguru is resting with his back to the kitchen door, his face hidden under his bangs. He's clutching his old phone — a burner flip phone he still holds onto even if Toji did eventually get him a smartphone for their anniversary last year. Or was it after they fought over Megumi coming back home from school covered in bruises? Suguru had smothered him like a mother hen, cleaning Megumi's wounds with a cotton ball drenched in antiseptic.
(Megumi didn't have the heart to tell Suguru the truth — that he'd gone purposely looking for a brawl. He conveniently forgot to tell him that it was his senior who lost the fight. Just having Suguru's undivided attention all to himself… Maybe that's when he started developing quite the reputation at school. If he came back home injured he could have Suguru all to himself again.)
“Do you think… something bad happened to him?” Suguru whispers. He's trembling and clutching his oversized t-shirt (was it always like that? Has he always looked so small in his clothes?). From where Megumi is standing by the genkan — still with his shoes on — Suguru looks like he's crying. He finally notices him and, when their eyes meet, Suguru's calm facade crumbles. Well, if he wasn't crying until then he is now. The fact that he's shedding tears for someone so undeserving of him is what makes Megumi's heart ache the most.
“No, Satoru… I don't want your money. I manage just fine,” Suguru states before hurriedly saying his goodbyes to whoever he’s talking to.
(That name, brand new to Megumi's ears, will regrettably become more common in the time to come. But at the time, all Megumi can concentrate on is the warmth surrounding him and Suguru's arms rounding his shoulders — pulling him close.)
--
“Hey,” Itadori says, waving at Megumi from across the street. He's cutting class so much that Itadori must have followed him this time around. Itadori crosses the street, staring at both sides and clutching his jacket around himself. It almost makes Megumi smile — his friend always refuses to zip up his windbreaker, even when the weather is getting colder.
“What are you doing here? Aren't you worried about your grades?” Megumi asks, resisting the urge to elbow Itadori — all in good jest — when he stands next to him, leaning on the railing. He looks uncomfortable, and he keeps trying to affect an air of nonchalance. It makes Megumi think of the past — before his dad left, before Suguru came into his life. It's oddly nostalgic.
Maybe if Suguru hadn't entered his life he'd still be attending classes like a good boy instead of fantasizing about Suguru's naked body — or picking up one bad habit after another.
(Well, Megumi has never been truly good. He got into trouble all the time with his rowdy disposition and his eternal refusal to listen to authority. But now he's probably going to flunk just about every subject — might not even graduate on time.
Might not even graduate at all.)
“Worried? Why?” Megumi answers with a question of his own. He's buying time — Suguru is probably in pre-heat. He even locked himself inside his room last night and took some of Toji's old clothes with him. Even though Toji's scent is gone they'll still bring him some sort of comfort. He must have taken one of Megumi's t-shirts too. He can't find it in his room or in the laundry basket. It's the blue and white striped shirt Suguru got him for his birthday last year — had to scrape every last penny from his last win at the illegal ring before Toji made him quit to become a housewife.
(Housewife. The word makes Megumi think of Suguru waiting for him at home, barefoot and with his arms outstretched — kneeling by the front door.)
“Fushiguro,” Itadori starts and his voice acquires a serious tone that doesn't suit him. His brows are knitted together, as if he's mulling something over in his head. “Is this where you go when you're not in class? Hanging out in front of a konbini all by yourself can't be that fun…”
It isn't. That’s not why Megumi is here. Fun doesn't even factor in.
(That's what he thinks as his eyes follow Suguru exiting the store with a dejected look in his eyes. He'll change in his car and go back home. Judging by his sagged shoulders and his tired eyes, he probably got himself sacked — he's never been good at biting his tongue when rude customers hit on him.)
“Itadori…” Megumi starts with a semblance of finality. He's a boy divided — half of him wants to go back to how things were before, attend his classes, build a future so he can escape becoming another Toji. The other half doesn't care if he grows old to be a good-for-nothing illegal ring fighter so long as he has Suguru by his side. So long as Megumi gets to bite Suguru's nape.
And right now his omega — Megumi has started to think of Suguru as his ever since it became apparent that Toji was out of the picture — needed a strong alpha to take the wheel. Even if that means dropping out and taking on the occasional odd job to support them both.
I don't think we can be friends anymore, is what Megumi should say but the words get stuck in his throat before they can come out. He can't go through with it, no matter how logical the conclusion is. Itadori and Kugisaki will graduate, become standup members of society — no matter their troubled pasts and their financial constraints. They're still on the right path.
Megumi won't follow after them and they will naturally drift apart over time.
It's better if Megumi breaks things off clearly with Itadori — so there are no misunderstandings. Kugisaki won't get it but Itadori is also an alpha and a hopeless romantic at that. He'll understand well enough once Megumi explains about Suguru (about Toji's disappearance, too).
Yet still he can't force himself to do it.
“I should head back,” he says instead, averting his eyes so they won't accidentally meet Itadori’s.
“See you tomorrow?” Itadori asks with a twinge of hope in his tone. Megumi just shakes his head but doesn't answer — he just turns back one last time and mouths go home.
--
The whole apartment stinks — unwashed dishes in the sink, clothes piling up over the laundry hamper by the washing machine, mysterious stains on the low table… Megumi never used to consider who was the one making sure they wouldn't be eaten by rats. Those tasks used to be invisible — he never even gave it a second thought.
He knows Suguru threw his backpack next to the genkan and rushed out of his shoes which are left haphazardly on the steps that connect the genkan to the hallway leading into the tiny space they inhabit.
Yes, the place is in poor condition — has been that way since Suguru's preheat symptoms hit but only now Megumi is beginning to realize the extent of Suguru's condition. Judging by the empty blister packs in the bathroom's cabinet, Suguru's run out of suppressants.
(After a cursory inspection, Megumi is able to determine that Suguru's also out of birth control. The mental image that creates in Megumi's head is almost enough to send him into an early rut.)
There's a post-it note by the kitchen counter apologizing for the mess and promising to make it up to Megumi later on. The crumpled piece of paper smells faintly of the cigarettes Suguru is smoking and Megumi can't help but feel like a creep as he brings it to his nose — trying to detect the underlying notes of strawberries, Suguru’s faint scent Megumi almost never gets to smell but now that they're out of scent blockers… It's everywhere.
Sighing, Megumi folds the note in half and shoves it inside his front pocket. He's already half-hard just from Suguru's scent alone but he's also a starving teenage boy. He searches the fridge for something to eat — a half-eaten sandwich seems to be his best bet. It looks as though Suguru only took one bite, wrapping the rest in aluminum foil. Toji's beer cans are there too — untouched. Feeling despondent, Megumi takes one and the sandwich upstairs to his room.
When he passes Suguru's room, Megumi pauses. It's eerily quiet inside but the scent is almost suffocating — there's no mistaking the alluring call of an unmated omega in heat.
What a fool, Megumi thinks. His old man never bothered to mark Suguru. He only liked having a young piece of ass around to clean after him and his kid. Probably never loved him — Toji certainly didn't give the impression of being capable of such tender emotions. And yet Suguru held onto him like the winning ticket, a lifeline. If only Megumi had met him later in life… Maybe then…
A broken moan coming from inside Suguru's room distracts Megumi from his own thoughts — he almost drops the beer can. Hurrying, Megumi opens his own room’s door with a sweaty hand and locks himself inside. He hasn't noticed before on his way back home but his whole body is covered in sweat — the fabric of his school shirt sticking to his skin. Megumi quickly leaves his meal on his desk and proceeds to get out of his clothes, which he discards on the floor even if they will inevitably get dirty that way.
(He won't be able to wear his uniform tomorrow and Suguru might notice that Megumi has only been pretending to go to school for the past few days.)
Megumi throws himself in bed, the bedspread providing some momentary relief — albeit short lived. He can tell he's nursing a fever and, with only the paper thin wall separating him from Suguru in the other room, Megumi is growing desperate. He spits on his hand before bringing it to his aching cock. Smearing the precum building at the head, Megumi groans when he can hear Suguru wailing and crying. His omega sounds pretty — Megumi pictures him.
In his mind, Suguru is lying on his back in an improvised nest — he's clutching Megumi's shirt with one hand and spreading himself open with the other. Three fingers move rhythmically inside him, matching the aborted movements of his hips. His eyes are hazy and unfocused and his chest is fuller than usual — his hardened pink nipples would be enough to drive any alpha mad, Megumi included.
“... come here,” Suguru beckons in Megumi's fantasy, his messy hair creating some kind of halo around his face — his bang sticking to his forehead. Well, Megumi doesn't need to be told twice.
He lunges forward, his hands immediately landing on Suguru's hips — even in his daydream Suguru's bones are visible and his skin is tight. It should be a source of concern that the once healthy muscles from days past are gone, leaving only a skinny carcass behind — A far cry from the confident runaway Megumi met years ago. And yet, Megumi can feel himself salivate at how delicate, how fragile Suguru looks under him. Staring up with tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.
“Toji,” Suguru weeps and the fantasy is broken. It's just like abruptly waking from a dream — only now Megumi realizes it's a nightmare. He doesn't close back his eyes and doesn't picture what it'd be like to enter Suguru's tight heat, to fill him completely — to pump him full of his release.
(Megumi keeps stroking his cock and he bites his arm when he comes to the sounds of Suguru moaning in the other room — calling for an alpha who isn't here anymore, who never really was his to begin with. It makes Megumi want to cry — it's unfair that he should meet Suguru at such a disadvantage. His dad is the worst, a true enemy for leaving the only good thing he had behind.)
Megumi falls asleep and wakes up hours later with his hand next to his limp dick and drying cum all over his stomach. Light is streaming through the gaps in his window shutters and his phone is vibrating — left perilously close to the edge of the bed. He grabs it before it falls.
Predictably, it's Itadori.
You left your shirt at my house, the text reads. He even sends a picture, as if to further crush Megumi's delusions. Sure enough, it's the one shirt he thought Suguru took to add to his nest.
--
Satoru Gojo enters their lives shortly after that. Megumi wakes up the morning after Suguru's heat ends — and, consequently, the morning after his own rut ends — and ambles into the kitchen while rubbing his eyes with a closed fist. It's unusually bright outside — it could also be that he's been cooped up inside his bedroom for so long he's forgotten what direct sunlight is like.
He goes about fixing himself a bowl of cereal when he spots the stranger already by their tiny breakfast corner. The guy occupying Megumi's usual chair is tall, strong, with white scars covering both his face and his torso. He's then, not wearing a shirt, only a pair of pajama bottoms Megumi instantly recognizes as his father's. But really, neither his scars nor his impressive physique are his most prominent feature: This guy — an alpha to boot — has white hair and his eyes are covered by a black blindfold.
Megumi leaves the cereal bowl by the counter. He doesn't say hi even when the strange man waves at him all friendly and smiling — showing his teeth.
“You must be Megumi, right?” He asks in a cheerfully dismissive, almost patronizing tone. It's a cruel irony that those are the exact same words Suguru first said to Megumi. That feels like ages ago now. “I'm Gojo Satoru,” he adds, extending his hand then quickly taking it back as if realizing Megumi won't shake it.
“Are you…” here Megumi struggles to get the words out but he pushes through, “a friend of Suguru?”
Gojo hums but doesn't answer for a while. He takes a bite out of his toast — come to think of it, the kitchen is unusually clean and well stocked. Megumi didn't even know there was bread. Considering how they've been living in squalor since Toji went away, it should be a nice change and yet… Coupled with Gojo’s presence, it’s enough to send chills down Megumi's spine.
“Friend?” Gojo repeats and his tone changes — he sounds mirthful, as though he finds the idea of being friends with Suguru laughable. “You could say that. We go waaaaaay back,” he finally answers in a singsong voice.
Megumi frowns but before he can keep interrogating his unwanted guest, Suguru enters the kitchen. With his presence alone, he illuminates everything. Gojo's attention immediately switches from Megumi to Suguru — with his blindfold in place it'd be hard to tell what he's thinking. But, being an alpha, his scent is impossible to erase — even on blockers, alphas just can't hide their nature completely.
Megumi gets hit head on with a wave of Gojo's scent. It's clear Suguru's friendship is not all he's after.
“I see you've already met,” Suguru says as if having a total stranger in their kitchen is perfectly normal — except Gojo is right and he's only a stranger to Megumi. Suguru ruffles Megumi's hair and screws up his eyes when he catches a whiff of Megumi's lingering rut scent. He chooses not to comment on it and Megumi knows he's off the hook for now.
Just like that, Suguru goes up to the stove and starts making pancakes as if nothing was out of the ordinary (where did they get all of those ingredients? What did Megumi miss while he was in rut?). Suguru's changed into a pair of baggy shorts and a light blue shirt Megumi's never seen before. When he offers to help he can see a little bit of a red bite mark — mostly covered by the collar of Suguru's new tee.
--
Satoru's my old high school roommate, Suguru told him — a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. That's all the explanation Megumi gets. As if that's enough to answer all his questions about their new living arrangements.
He's packing in his room — most of their furniture has already been either disposed of or handled by movers but his wardrobe is a chaos that only Megumi can handle. Besides, he needs to distract himself from the fact that it was his eighteenth birthday yesterday and Suguru didn't even mention it — didn't even give him a pat on the back or a knowing glance. There is no promise to celebrate later either.
(And what is later anyway? Megumi will probably only be staying at the Gojo estate until the new year starts and he can enroll into a new high school — the same boarding school Gojo graduated from.)
Megumi needs to take makeup classes and he won't be able to graduate on time — won't be able to graduate alongside Itadori and Kugisaki. It's his own fault for choosing to focus on Suguru over everything else, so Megumi accepts his fate. This is what he needs to do in order to survive: Graduate, move far away, get a job, forget about Suguru, about his dad, about Gojo.
Easy.
“Packing already? We still got some time left,” Gojo interrupts him, knocking on the frame of the door and entering anyway. He's wearing a wrist watch that looks oddly familiar — it resembles the only possession of value Toji ever had. A cruel gift from his family before they disowned him, threw him to the streets to fend for himself. Megumi wonders if he wasn't too harsh judging the old man — Megumi himself couldn't have handled things any better… Clearly.
“Leave me alone,” he responds but, before he can go on, Gojo shakes his head. He's wearing sunglasses — he's unusually sensitive to the light so he alternates between them and his blindfold. With the sleeves of his shirt rolled up, he somehow gives the appearance of a dangerous gangster and… who's to say Gojo isn't one? Megumi only has Suguru to vouch for him and he's hardly shared anything about Satoru Gojo except that they do go way back.
“Come downstairs, I have something to show you,” Gojo says by way of an explanation, “it's my belated birthday present to you… Well, it's Suguru's, actually.”
This manages to grab Megumi's attention — he might have misread the whole situation and Suguru never actually forgot about Megumi's turning of age. He must have smelled it during his rut, how ready Megumi was to take on the responsibilities of a grown alpha, his desire to provide a safe space for an omega (for Suguru, in particular).
In hindsight, he should have sensed something was off — why send Gojo instead of delivering his present himself? Why wait until Megumi's birthday is over? The answer waited for him in Suguru's room, where he was left waiting — in bed, gagged and blindfolded (ah, that's why Gojo is wearing his sunnies). He's painfully hard, dripping precum all over his stomach and his hands are bound behind his back. A pink ribbon is tied at the base of his dick and cum — Gojo's release — is dripping down his thighs.
Suguru turns his head towards the door — as much as his position will let him anyway — and Gojo chooses that moment to drop his hands over Megumi's shoulders.
“I figured you'd like to watch,” he says, unkindly.
How thoughtful, Megumi thinks, ashamed that he's gotten hard despite the mortifying circumstance. He gives a nod to Gojo, who probably expected Megumi to act all shy and contrite. What would be the point in that? His innermost desires are now out in the open — if he won't have Suguru, Megumi at least wants to see him get devoured.
(As he watches Gojo inch closer to the bed, his fingers pressing into Suguru's tender hole, Megumi resists the urge to cry.
Now he knows he can withstand anything.)