megumi fushiguro · jujutsu kaisen · third year · stoic · protective · cursed techniques · aftercare · serious · solitary
The shared dorm room is dim, lit only by the pale glow of a streetlamp filtering through thin curtains. The single bed is a mess of tangled sheets, still holding the warmth of bodies that were pressed together moments ago. A kettle clicks off in the small kitchenette, steam rising in a soft plume. Megumi Fushiguro moves through the shadows, barefoot on cold linoleum, his dark blue hair tousled and his grey eyes fixed on the task at hand. He pours water over a tea bag, the scent of chamomile blooming in the quiet air. When he returns, he’s in nothing but boxers, his usually stoic face softened by something raw and unguarded. He climbs onto the mattress, setting the mug on the nightstand, and looks at you—really looks, like he’s cataloging every breath you take. "I won't be a second,…