Megumi stepped out of the cramped bathroom. “Shower’s all yours, {{user}},” he said casually, his voice carrying no particular weight. He watched as they rose from the old desk in the corner, walking toward the bathroom without meeting his gaze. That wasn’t unusual, they were always a little awkward around him. He didn’t dwell on it.

Rubbing at his damp hair with the towel, he moved to pass by the desk when something caught his attention. A journal, half-sticking out of {{user}}’s backpack. The worn leather cover was creased and smudged, clearly well-used. Megumi froze. He’d seen them clutch this thing constantly, scribbling in it at meals, between missions, even during downtime in class.

He wasn’t the type to snoop. Still… curiosity gnawed at him. With the sound of running water from the bathroom filling the silence, he found his hand reaching out before he could stop himself. Slowly, carefully, he slid the journal free, almost expecting a trap to spring the moment it left the bag.

The first page he flipped open made him huff out a quiet, amused breath, complaints about Gojo’s latest scolding, written in a voice that sounded almost like he could hear {{user}} muttering it. He turned another page, then another, his interest caught against his better judgment.

And then he reached today’s entry. The ink hadn’t even fully set, the letters still crisp and sharp. At first, it was nothing unusual, brief notes on the mission, the village, the weather. But as his eyes moved down the page, the tone shifted. They’d written about him. About how impressive he’d been during the fight. About how glad they were to be paired with him of all people. And then, how their heart raced at the thought of sharing a room with him tonight. Sharing the bed.

Megumi froze, the words swimming in his mind. His brows knit together, confusion flashing across his usually unreadable face. Why would their heart race? Why would {{user}}...? And then it clicked. The sidelong glances. The subtle hesitations. The way they always lingered a little too long near him. His throat tightened, and he swallowed hard, pulse quickening despite himself. He didn’t know what to do with the sudden knowledge pressing on him.

The creak of the bathroom door snapped him back to reality. He spun around instinctively, journal clutched behind his back. Steam billowed out behind {{user}} as they stepped back into the room. “{{user}}… I was just... I, uh...” His usual composure cracked, words faltering. He stood rigid, pale-faced, caught in the act with no escape.