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The world was on fire.
Metaphorically.
Literally.
However, Yuuji hasn't been in his right mind since Sukuna took over Megumi a while back; transferring his consciousness by ripping off Yuuji's pinky finger and force-feeding it to Fushiguro.
Yuuji is devastated. He has sworn to protect his friends, especially after Gōjo was sealed. Never mind that they are well on their way to freeing him from the Prison Realm.
Sukuna has been living inside Yuuji since this shit started a year ago. So why now, why Megumi of all people! Why couldn't he stay with Yuuji instead. After all, he only exists to be his vessel. He was created, born to be strong and resilient enough to harbour the King of Curses.
Or not!?
So engrossed in his own misery and grief for his gloomy but beautiful friend, he missed Sukuna, who now looks like a slightly fitter version of Megumi, continuously walking towards him.
"Harry."
Yu— Harry blinks rapidly, only then noticing the tears running silently down his face, which he roughly wipes away with the sleeve of his tattered school uniform.
"You promised, Tom," he sobs lightly, slapping away the hand reaching for him when he realises Tom is trying to stroke his cheeks. "You fucking promised me you'd stay put. This body— I am your container. Wasn't it you who reminisced about the fact how I, once again, keep a part of your soul?"
It could actually become a running gag.
He knows he's just ranting and spitting out whatever comes to mind. He needs to understand, to make sense of the cutting reality that Megumi is gone forever. Junpei, Nanami ... so many were injured and nearly killed fighting fake Getō and Co.
Harry sinks to his knees and cries loudly, pressing his hands to his face and the balls of his hands to his closed eyes in the attempt to muffle the choked up sounds.
"Oh Darling, I said I'd stay with you because we were meant to be together," he began, crouching down and crossing his arms over his bent knees. "I never lied to you, but I also never promised not to find a way to get my own body."
Tom cooed, tilting his head for a better view of Harry's pretty light brown, almost honey-coloured eyes. Megumi's once stunning green eyes are now a deep blood red, as befits a demon king.
Harry shakes his head as if in great pain and lifts his chin to watch Tom's face, which shows an expression of satisfaction, success and pride. Surprisingly, neither arrogance nor Schadenfreude.
"It was a pleasure to feel so connected to you, Harry, it really was. But being in the depths of another person's consciousness..." he pauses and Harry lets out a wet, incredulous laugh. Rightly bemused by the peeved glint in Tom's eyes and the telling curl of his upper lip.
"At last you know how your Horcruxes have felt all this time," Harry grouses, smiling unkindly and rubbing the tears from his face.
Again.
"You seem to forget my fourteen years as a disembodied being," the other chuckles, leaning forward to press his nose into Harry's short, bright pink hair; and what a strange colouring that is.
"Sorry about your finger."
Harry snorts contemptuously and shoves Tom's chest harshly, causing him to fall back onto his arse and scowl. "Oh please, I'm not even fully human. I'm a half-curse, a descendant and a vessel of the Demon Overlord. It's like I was only born to keep him, that's you, in check, or for you to take over and kill me after you've swallowed all twenty fingers."
Harry sneers as Tom just hums placatingly and crawls forwards until his hands are on either side of Harry's thighs before further leaning in and nuzzling into the crook of his neck. Harry doesn't like this position at all; Tom more or less sits on his knees to prevent him from lashing out or running away.
He hears Tom inhale deeply and shudders before grabbing him by the shoulders, digging his nails into the fabric and hissing, "You can't look like my friend and act like a dog in heat, you sicko!"
Tom stops abruptly in all his movements, and Harry feels it more than he hears it as he slowly lets out a barely there laugh against Harry's sweaty skin. Harry swallows nervously.
"Do I really look like him?" he whispers in his ear, causing Harry to wince and unconsciously clutch his shoulders tighter.
If he's honest... Not really. His whole demeanour is all Tom. The strength and grace he exudes is all Tom. His voice has also changed; has taken on a low pitch. His body is covered in Sukuna's trademark tattoos. His eyes are red, and his former wild hair is now combed back the way he does when he takes control of Yuuji's body.
Apart from his clothes, his bone structure and his height, nothing really reminds him of Fushiguro Megumi anymore.
Just thinking about it brings back a deep-seated feeling of despair and sadness. His heart is heavy. His soul a little more broken.
Instead of answering, he claws at Tom's back and buries his head in his shoulder. "Why did you kill so many innocent people. You know we can't just up and leave. In this world, you have to die or be subdued."
Why could he not just stayed, seriously! Be safe and content in Harry, cosy up to his own soul. They were so close, could even communicate in their heads — as if through Legilimency.
"Harry," Tom smiles as he leans back a little and takes Harry's face gently in his bigger hands. "I don't care about anyone but you."
Harry's breath hitches. Eyes wide, he looks up, lips quivering. "But why—" he croaks, biting his tongue to stop a rather ugly sob from escaping.
Tom hums again, stroking his cheeks with both thumbs in a circular motion and not letting go of Harry's searching gaze. "I wanted to touch you, to feel you in the real world. I needed my own body," he explains; as if that explains anything. Harry would have been perfectly content within Tom Riddle. Not having to do anything at all, but living a completely unadventurous life alongside his soulmate, sounds like paradise.
"You're a selfish prick," Harry spits out after a while and pulls himself out of Tom's grasp, freeing his feet from under Tom and standing on wobbly legs.
"Does that mean you can't be anything if you don't have a body? Just so you know, Scarcrux was more than happy if it hadn't been for that tantrum-throwing old snakeface—"
Suddenly Harry couldn't breathe.
Frozen and unable to comprehend what was happening, his arms flailed at his sides until his brain recovered from the shock and Harry let out a startled gasp. Fear seized his heart.
He shoves at the only slightly taller man and lets out a muffled scream against Tom's mouth. Tom tilts his head just so that their lips interlock almost perfectly. Slotting together like missing puzzle pieces. Luckily without tongue, but it's still to much please let go—
His lips slide sensually yet punishingly over Harry's, forcing his mouth to open slightly, and Tom takes the opportunity to bite his lower lip, eliciting a pained moan from the younger male, who has since stopped trying to push Tom off his body.
One hand is holding him by the back of his head, by his hair. The other is wrapped tightly around his narrow waist, pressing him against Tom's firm body.
Harry's hands hang at his side as he opens his eyes and stares blankly into the slowly darkening sky above their heads. Tom doesn't let go until Harry begins to swallow his own blood and a single tear slips from the corner of his eye. He stares down at him like a god worshipping his mortal obsession.
A feral but endearing grin on his face, his eyes alight with possessive joy. "You're the most beautiful with fire in your eyes," he whispers, licking his bloodied lips before descending upon Harry again.
Harry flinches before anger gets the better of him — How dare he make it sound like he's killing for Harry and not for his own benefit, because he enjoys it! — and he grabs Tom's head to crash their lips together even more brutally, biting down hard.
The only thing that overshadows the pounding of his heart in his chest and the rush of blood in his ears is Tom's muttered, "All I need is you, my Soul."