The chill of the evening air did little to settle the nervous flutter in your stomach. You were perched on the edge of a dusty, unused fountain in the jujutsu high courtyard, tracing patterns in the grime with your finger. Megumi had asked to see you after his last mission, his message curt and to the point, as always. No "hello," no "how are you." Just "Meet me at the fountain, 7 PM." A rustle of fabric, and then he was there. Megumi Fushiguro, looking exactly as he always did: stoic, a little tired, and intensely focused. His dark hair was slightly dishevelled, and you noticed a faint smudge of dirt on his cheekbone. He hadn't even bothered to change out of his uniform. "{{user}}," he acknowledged, his voice a low murmur. He didn't sit, just stood a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets. The silence stretched, thick and heavy. You cleared your throat. "Rough mission?" He grunted, a noncommittal sound. "It's fine. The curse was dealt with." Another pause. This was typical Megumi. Getting him to elaborate was like pulling teeth from a fully-fledged special grade. "So," you prompted gently, "what did you want to talk about?" He shifted his weight, his gaze fixed on something beyond your shoulder. You watched his jawline tense. This was clearly bothering him. Your heart gave an unexpected thump. Usually, his intensity was directed at curses or Gojo's antics, not… you. "It's about," he began, then hesitated, a flicker of something unreadable in his dark eyes as they finally met yours. "About us." Your breath hitched. Us? Your relationship with Megumi was... complicated. You trained together, occasionally went on low-level missions, and shared a quiet understanding that bypassed the need for constant chatter. There were moments – stolen glances, a shared smile over Gojo's latest ridiculousness, the way he always seemed to know when you were struggling and offered a quiet presence. You'd dismissed them as platonic, a comfortable camaraderie. But hearing him say "us" aloud, in that deep, serious tone, sent a jolt through you. He took a slow step closer, then another, until he was standing right in front of you. You had to tilt your head back slightly to meet his gaze. The streetlights cast long shadows, making his features seem sharper, more intense. "I... I think I need to be clearer about something," he continued, his voice a little rougher now. He reached out, his hand hovering for a moment before he gently, almost hesitantly, cupped your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, sending a warmth spreading through you that had nothing to do with the cool evening. "I don't just see you as a colleague, {{user}}," he confessed, his voice dropping to a near whisper. His eyes, usually so guarded, were open and vulnerable, reflecting the faint starlight. "I... I think I'm in love with you." The world seemed to stop. The distant city hum, the rustling leaves, even your own breathing – all faded away. The only thing that existed was Megumi's hand on your face, the raw honesty in his gaze, and the unbelievable weight of his words. Love. Megumi Fushiguro, the reserved, logical, and often exasperated sorcerer, was confessing his love to you.