Work Text:
When Nobara knocks on the door, she's unconsciously expecting not to get any answer. She'll knock, and the sound of her knuckles hitting the wooden door will echo through the empty room, bounce off the walls, and then disappear without reaching any ears but her own.
She's wrong, though. She knocks, and not even a full second goes by until a voice from the inside announces she can come in. She grabs the knob and twists it, flinging the door open, and he's there.
He's actually there.
Itadori is sitting on his bed, wearing a cotton white shirt and shorts instead of his uniform. There are a few boxes scattered around the floor, and judging by the contents she glances at, they must be his belongings. Makes sense, his room got cleared off not long after he died. And now he's back.
She hates how the sight of him takes the air out of her lungs and makes her heart clench and flutter at the same time. She's so happy he's alive. She's so mad he's alive.
"Hey," he greets her, "what's up?"
"Nothing," she says, and she wants to leave it at that, but the words escape her lips before she can stop them. "Thought I'd check if you were still alive."
"Sorry." He mutters, and this is like the tenth time he apologizes today, and every time he says it like he means it, and that should be enough. She can't let it go, though. Not after she mourned this asshole for two whole months, the ghost of his presence haunting her like a curse. She cried, for fuck's sake. A lot.
"I still can't believe you were alive this whole time."
"I wanted to tell you guys, I swear, but Gojo-sensei wouldn't let me." Now there's a pinch of desperation mixed with the guilt and the embarrassment. Good. "I'm sorry."
She huffs at that, not even bothering to hide how upset she is, even when she thinks she shouldn't be. She shouldn't be mad and hold this against him any longer than Fushiguro did (who, mind you, was there to see the gaping hole in Itadori's chest where his heart should've been), but she couldn't help it. She couldn't drop it or forget it or pretend she didn't care because she was a fool and she cared more than she wants to admit.
"Listen, I don't care what crazy excuses you have for this," she crosses her arms across her stomach, "the damage is already done. You'll have to do more than say sorry if you want me to forgive you."
He nods, "I know. I'll make it up to you. And Fushiguro."
"Yeah, you better." She's glaring at him, bored expression and lips pressed in a straight line. He tries to hold her gaze, but he keeps breaking contact to look down and scratch the back of his head like he's a remorseful dog who got caught after destroying one of the couch cushions.
An awkward silence settles between them, and as much as she wants to torture Itadori for what he's done, she can't stand the silence herself.
"You know, you're one lucky bastard." she adds, "First, you come back from the dead, looking all fresh and healthy. Then, you fight a special-grade curse and only get a few scratches in the process. I'm impressed."
If only Fushiguro had run with the same luck. They shouldn't complain, though, as his injuries weren't all that bad, and according to Shoko-san, they could've been much worse. All he needs is some rest, and he'll be as good as new. Allegedly.
His lips curve up slightly, forming a half smile. "Well, if it weren't for Todo and Gojo-sensei, I would've been screwed." he tilted his head. "What about you? Are you alright?"
She leans over the door frame. "Of course I'm alright. Maki's bitch sister shot me in the head and I blacked out for a bit, that's all." She absentmindedly rubs her fingers over the skin the bullet hit, still sore. "I didn't know rubber bullets could hurt this much."
Itadori's half smile turns into a full smirk. "She got you good, huh?"
"Shut up!" She barks back, and he must find it hilarious because he laughs like it is. And her chest tightens a little with the sound. For two months, she thought she'd never hear it again.
It's comforting. It's annoying.
Itadori claps his hands on his knees and raises from the bed, getting on his feet. He grabs one of the boxes laid across the floor.
"I'm setting up the stuff in my room again," he says, looking around, "but I don't own much, so I should be done soon." He turns to her, "It's not too late, wanna watch a movie or something? Gojo-sensei gave me a bunch of DVDs and I still got a few more to watch."
"No thanks." She frowns. DVDs? What year is it, 1999? "We should get some rest. The event got ruined today, so I don't know what they'll make us do tomorrow. Whatever it is, we have to win, okay? I'm getting my revenge."
He shrugs. "Fair enough." He walks towards his closet, and she notices that the box he's holding has clothes in it. "See you tomorrow then?"
"Yeah."
He sets the box on the floor and starts grabbing individual pieces to put them on hangers.
She stares at him. She should leave, turn around and go back to her room.
He grabs a yellow hoodie from the box, twisting and turning the fabric around to make sense of where the neck and the sleeves are.
She closes the door, but the sound doesn't make him look back. He thinks she left, but she didn't, she's standing there.
When she wraps her arms around his torso and presses her cheek against his back, his body tenses and jerks like she just poured a bucket of cold water over him.
"W-what?" He tries to turn around, but she squeezes his body harder, keeping him in place. "Kugisaki?"
"What?"
"What are you doing?"
That's a good question; what is she doing?
Usually, she's smarter than this. There are plenty of reasons why she's not supposed to get attached to this guy; starting with how obvious it is that he won't stick around for much longer. While he has been doing a marvelous job at escaping death, he's a time bomb that'll have to get taken care of sooner or later; his fate has been sealed.
She already had to mourn him once, and that sucked enough as it is, she should make it easier for herself by keeping some healthy distance. In theory, it shouldn't be difficult.
Why would she want to be around him, anyways? He's an idiot. He's loud, dumb, and annoying. He has no grace, elegance, or style. He doesn't meet any of her standards.
Like, who cares if he's kind even when she isn't, that he praises her just as much as she insults him, that he's open, authentic, and vulnerable, that she felt comfortable and safe around him almost immediately.
None of that matters if it'll just make her suffer eventually. She knows this, so why is she still in his room, clinging to him like she's trying to stop him from slipping away again? When did she turn this emotional?
"I, uh-" His voice breaks the silence, and he sounds as flustered as she feels. "I, I missed you too...?"
His body is warm and firm, the fabric of his shirt soft against her skin. He smells like the cheap colognes she thought she hated. "I didn't miss you," she lies through her teeth, heart beating a little faster than it should. "At all. You should've stayed dead."
"Oh. Sorry."
"If you mention this to anyone, especially Fushiguro, I'll make you regret you were ever born."
Itadori snorts, "Isn't that a little extreme?"
"No." She pulls her arms back, and steps away. She's doomed, isn't she? "I'm leaving now. Don't turn around."
"Okay."
"Itadori?"
"Yeah?"
She's definitely doomed.
"Welcome back."