Stop blaming yourself

Chapter 1

Mentions of an anxiety attack

His breathing was rapid. He felt like the walls were getting closer and closer. His lungs wouldn't let the air he so much needed to come in. His tears were flowing freely, not being able to be contained anymore. The corner of the room he was in was dark and no one was there, but that still didn't bring him any closure. He needed him. The person he couldn't save and will forever take the blame for his death.

Megumi was trying his best to calm down, knowing that he still needed to go train and he would have to take care of the mess that has become of himself. He couldn't let anybody see how weak he was. He needed to be strong so that nobody would ever die because of him.

After what seemed like an eternity for him, but what was only 10 minutes for everyone else outside his door, his breathing was starting to get in rythym and his cheeks were now stained with his old tears. He finally got up and the best decision to take care of his messed up face, and maybe mind for the time being, was to take a hot shower.

He knew he shouldn't be late, but he could care less in the condition he was in. In the bathroom he finally got the chance to look at himself. He looked horrible. His hair was in all directions, even worse than usual, his eyes were red and puffy and the bags under his eyes were more noticeble than the other day.

He finally turned the shower on, the relief of when he got under the boiling water, getting to him in endless ways. It felt good letting go of everything  but he felt like he didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve anything other than pain for being weak. It felt like he had lost track of time when he was doing his best in arranging his thought, that were eating him alive.

His skin was red from the hot water, but the painful tingles felt good. Why did it feel good? All his life he was used to pain being uncomfortable, so why did he like it now? It didn't matter as he got out, almost stumbling but being able te regain himself.

He couldn't stand the image in the mirror. How could he? He would need to cover it up, since everytime he looked at it he could only see a monster who couldn't even keep his promise to himself. He swore to protect Itadori, but he failed miserably, his last words hunting him forever...

"Live a long life, Fushiguro"

He felt a new round of tears form in his eyes, but he quickly blinked them away. He knew better than anyone that if he wouldn't show up soon, Gojo-sensei will take it upon himself to come fetch him. He didn't want, nor need, anyone to enter his unorganized room, which would surprise any person even a bit close to him.

His usually perfectly cleaned room had clothes all over the place. Tissues could be seen forming a mountain next to his bed. If you looked carefully, in the bed there was a teddy bear that was known to be Itadori's. On the other side of the room, carefully placed on a chair, there was also a yellow sweatshirt.

Itadori's sweatshirt...

He had been using it as comfort since his funeral, the familiar smell slowly fading from the fabric, but Megumi couldn't convince himself to give it up. Besides the teddy bear and the broken heart, it was all he had left from Yuji. In the end, he got dressed and left his room, the knowledge that he was late hanging in the back of his head, but he would rather have an annoying lecture than to have worried glances for the condition he was in this morning.

When he reached the training hall, all that could be heard was the noises of the fights that Gojo probably set up. He hesitantly opened the door, all eyes now being on him. To his surprise no one was actually mad at him he was late. All of them knew better than any other person, that Itadori's death was the hardest for Megumi.

They decided to just continue practice. They understood bringing up that sensitive topic wouldn't do him any good. Although everyone was keeping a healthy distance for him to feel comfortable with, Nobara decided to aproach him. She didn't even know if it was a good idea, but she understood that feeling need to be let out in order to move on.

"Hey, Fushiguro. How have you been sleeping? You don't look that good. You can talk to me, we both felt an impact from Itadori's death so we should lean on eachother" She tried to comfort him giving an heart-warming smile that could lit a room almost instantly.'Just like Itadori's...'  His heart broke a little but he didn't let it show on his face.

"What are you talking about? I've been sleeping like usual." he tried to answer with his neutral face, almost succeding, but the small tears barely visible in his pain-filled eyes."You know, I'm not blind. I can see both the bags under your eyes and the tears in them. I can't force you to tell me anything, but please know I am here for you if you want to talk about it."

"I know. But just let me do it in my own pace." Megumi answered her, but looked down. He didn't need hers or anyones pity. He didn't deserve it. He was weak. A tear fell to the ground but neither of them said anything."Got it." Nobara finally said as he got away from Megumi.

Was he really that bad at hiding things from her ever since Itadori's death. It was like Nobara was always there when he was at his worst and she didn't even know. However, she was definetly not seeing through everything, because she would have confronted him about his anxiety if she had her suspicions.

After the long exhausting practice, he was finally allowed to return to his room, the gratefulness he was feeling was indeniable. He was offered to hang out with Nobara, probably due to her worry, but he refused swiftly, saying he was tired. She probably accepted that excuse only because she has brought up his dark eye bags earlier in the day.

As he reached his dorm room, the only thing Megumi wanted to do was have a dreamless sleep. He was sick of the nightmares that woke him up in a cold sweat, the nightmares that reminded him of the one thing he wanted to forget. Itadori's death. He wished for once to have a proper rest, but not all things you wish for come true. He was beyond exhausted, and he couldn't even close his eyes. 

He was breathing in a way not all people would find normal. He was covered in his blanket, covering his eyes from the natural light that was about to dissapear. He wanted to cry, but his eyes wouldn't allow it. He has been crying to much this days. His heartbeat had a steady speed, maybe a bit to quick, maybe... His emotions felt like they could overflow at any given point if he even dared to move a finger or make a sound.

But his breaking point was seeing Itadori's sweatshirt. It used to be his comfort, so why did the tears he was holding in overflow? Why did his breathing get even more rapid and shaky? So why wasn't he able to maintain his usual emotionless facade on?!

Megumi was shaking badly, bringing his hand to the sides of his face, trying to stop any negative thoughts from making their way inside his mind. He was barely able to get out of the bed, stumbling all the way to the bathroom. He tried to use some ice cold water, but that didn't help at all. He slid down the wall, his hand clutching the material of his shirt right were his heart was supposed to be.

Why? Why was he feeling like this? Everyone seemed fine with Yuji's death, an exception maybe being Nobara, who looked to be less energetic than usual. Why did he feel like he deserved what happened to Itadori in his place? Was it normal to get urges to hurt yourself? He didn't think so, so why was he getting them.

He was trying to get the intrusive thought out of his head, but nothing worked. His body was moving on his own, when he looked to see he was in front of the cabinet. Like on impulse, he opened it and looked around to find his old razer. He doesn't even remeber where it's from, but does it even matter anymore?

He supported himself on the wall, first looking at his wrists. 'Hey, that would be too obvious, find a better place.' Megumi looked confused around himself. What was that voice? The voices were never this loud and clear. Instead he looked at his thighs, that were exposed due to his shorts. 'Better' He put the razer on his upper thigh and dragged it slightly, little beads of blood visible on his skin.

Suddenly his mind cleared out for a second, his serious self back in control. He looked down at the cut put there by himself.

'What did I just do?'

That is the end of this chapter. This is absolute garbage, but such thing doesn't matter. I'm a person with creativity, so if you decided to read this, be ready for some unexpected scenes!