Gojo Satoru has been doing a quite frequent late-night visits to the Fushiguro household, and the act didn't go unnoticed by the only son in the family.
The man would sneak in and stood by Megumi's side, crouching down and gazing intensely at the sleeping middle-schooler (Megumi wasn't asleep though, in fact, neither did he witnessed how Gojo's staring directly, but it was so intense he could feel it on his back).
Maybe the weird man wanted to kill him and Tsumiki, young Megumi concluded at some points.
Chop their body down to pieces, contain them in sacks and sell it to the black market. With the shit-earing grin he wore on his face whenever they met, he looked like someone who will most likely trade Megumi and Tsumiki's body parts in the market with the price of a corn seed each. Maybe two corn seeds for Tsumiki, since she seemed to be deemed a better worth.
It was something the man would most likely do out of mere self-entertainment— for the fun and the shits of it, heck, money will never be the case because the dude has loads that probably won't wear down over the upcoming few of his generations, or so it seemed. Because who the hell would think that throwing millions of bucks for a kid he barely knew and supporting his life (along with his big sister's!) with more of it, didn't seem like a big deal?
The weird man is definitely mad both in senses and pennies. Weird bastard with financial stability, as well as insanity running in his system.
Even so,
with the way he clumsily sneaked his tall and stiff body beside Megumi's futon— on the floor, lying on his side while stretching out a hand to wrap over the smaller body, the young boy could feel himself falling asleep easier at that.
Yes, he was awoken most of the time the act which could be registered as home break-in was done (at midnight, on top of it, good grief!), in which he could actually scream and struggle and draw the attention of the neighbor at any given moment, to get rid of the weird man out of the house. Yet he chose to turn a blind eye on it.
He had no complaint— no, more like he felt it was too much to be having complaint for someone who has steadily supported his life with almost nothing in return. Megumi never asked why, because the man disappeared in the morning and the boy had forgotten to do so by noon. The fact that the man didn't attempted on any weird doings or what-so being the second reason— as long as Tsumiki was still breathing by the following day, there shouldn't be any reason for young Megumi to commit felony (he learnt the difficult word from the crime case section on the newspaper he regularly read in the morning, accompanied by a glass of warm coffee).
The last reason was something Megumi won't admit verbally, and yet it was a stronger reason than the first and second, which ultimately excused the late visit of the weird man.
Simple enough, the man's awkward embrace sort of made him feeling like having a thick blanket— a living bed-heater, as well as a familiar warmth he had long lost somewhere in his life. A luxury he missed out plenty, so much that it seems like he might be able to see dreams tonight (and the other side, too, if the man really planned on murdering him in his sleep).
It was nice once in a while, Megumi thought as he inhaled quietly to absorb the serenity more.
The night felt better without weird voices in his head urging him to be cynical— detesting his still-so young life for himself, what kind of misery is yet to come and how to befall every of it upon no one but himself, all the while racking up his brains on ways to leave out Tsumiki from the share (because she was especially intrusive about things, and Megumi didn't need that).
For Megumi, his selflessness has always been worn like a second skin— a natural instinct of thinking less and less regarding himself. A fragile form of self-defense where it was not himself but only his suicidal tendency in the name of sacrificial, that he defended. Rooting from something; somewhere way back he could no longer recall. It was a noble, heroic act on the surface, yet so pitiful on the deepest core.
The blatant abandonment of oneself. Sprinkle of self-loathings. A destructive perception that slowly but surely became a mindset growing on him. And he was still so young.
Before, it did felt unsettling for him. Iffy. Agonizing. But those are just inevitable firsts when one is yet to adjust, and as time passed, he has gradually learned to let them go, one by one. Leaving only the residuals behind.
And tonight, maybe just for tonight, he was temporarily freed from the binds of hard feelings he chained upon himself.
The firm arm holding him close had some sort of lukewarm super-power capable of melting down the rusty, hard chain within a space in his heart that most likely came from the lack of affection he needed in his earlier days. Maybe he was desperately deprived of it, who knows.
All he knows for now, was that his mind clear and free of those many conflicting, difficult emotions. No thoughts, head empty, just a safe and sound feeling of deep in slumber.
He could probably trust the weird bastard Gojo Satoru just a little bit, and gave in to the warmth, tonight.
(and for the upcoming nights, if he felt like it)
(he won't have any regrets if he died peacefully like that. but he silently prayed Tsumiki would manage to make a run for it if the man went after her next.)
A/N: This is written on quite a whim, so pardon the mistakes and probably, the OOC-ness!