You two never touched in daylight.
It wasn’t spoken, never agreed upon out loud, but it became a rule all the same. In the halls of Jujutsu High, Megumi kept his distance—expression neutral, steps measured, eyes never lingering where they shouldn’t. To anyone watching, you were just another presence passing through his orbit. Familiar. Unremarkable.
That was the point.
Night changed everything.
The campus slept uneasily after midnight, shadows pooling in corners where lamplight didn’t quite reach. Windows glowed faintly in distant buildings, but the path leading to Megumi’s room stayed dark, known only to those who walked it often enough.
You did.
The door opened without a sound. He had left it unlocked, as always.
Inside, the room was sparse—tidy in that controlled, almost rigid way that reflected him too well. The only light came from the window, moonlight spilling across the floor, catching on the edge of his desk and the curve of his shoulder as he stood waiting.
Megumi didn’t speak when you stepped inside.
He closed the door quietly behind you, the click of the lock echoing louder than it should have. Only then did his composure fracture—just slightly. His shoulders loosened. His gaze softened, dark eyes finally allowing themselves to rest on you without restraint.
The space between you disappeared without urgency.
His hand found yours first, fingers lacing together with practiced familiarity. It was a small thing, but it carried everything he refused to say when anyone else could hear. You leaned into him, forehead resting against his chest, listening to a heartbeat that always seemed steadier when you were close.
Outside this room, Megumi Fushiguro was careful. Distant. Untouchable.
Here, he let himself breathe.
He pressed his forehead to yours, shadows gathering instinctively around the two of you, curling along the walls and across the ceiling as if to shield the moment from the rest of the world. His thumb brushed over your knuckles, slow, grounding, a silent reminder that this was real—even if no one else could know.
There were risks. You both knew that.
Classmates watched. Teachers noticed patterns. One mistake, one careless glance, one touch held for half a second too long, and everything would unravel. Yet every night you returned, drawn back by something stronger than caution.
Megumi rested his chin lightly against your head, breath warm, presence solid. He didn’t ask you to stay. He never had to.
The secret lived here—in the quiet, in the shadows, in the way his grip tightened when the world outside demanded distance.
And for now, hidden in the dark, it was enough.