#airy shitposts

You met Yuji Itadori when you were sixteen. He was loud, kind, and always bleeding from somewhere.

You thought he smiled too much. He thought you frowned too much. You thought he was pretty loud. He thought you were pretty. From there, the rest happened naturally.

Movie nights became dates. Dates became shared apartments. Shared apartments became homes. Homes became places you stayed for decades.

You never got married.

He asked once, and only once.

He'd bought a ring with money he'd saved for nearly a year.

It wasn't extravagant because you would've hated extravagance. It was just a thin gold band with a tiny stone that caught the light whenever he turned the box.

"I know it's... weird," he'd begun.

You stared at the ring for a long time, and then you smiled, "You know why we can't."

"I don't care."

"I do."

"You'd still be my wife."

"I would." You reached over, closing the little velvet box with gentle fingers. "You'll still be here in a hundred years."

"I don't care." He’d said with the conviction of a hundred men. "I do." Your smile trembled, as if you were forcing it on. "How're you supposed to explain having the same marriage certificate from a century ago?"

"I'll figure something out."

"You always say that."

You leaned forward until your forehead rested against his, "You can't stop living because you loved me."

He wanted to argue. Argue that, yes, he’d find a way. He’d find a way to become mortal again- to age alongside you in this life and the next. But…he couldn’t promise that.

Instead, you laughed at his focused face, "Besides..." You kissed the tip of his nose, "I don't need a ring to know you love me."

And that was the end of it.

The ring stayed in the back of his dresser. He never threw it away…just in case.

The years were cruel in ways curses never managed to be.

You first complained about your knees. And then your back was constantly aching. Then your eyesight got worse.

Reading glasses appeared. Walking canes were an everyday accessory. Little orange prescription bottles lined your bathroom sink.

Yuji remained forever somewhere in between, withered and aged by the fights he had as a young teenager, but never looking old enough to match your aging pace.

Every few years, you moved to a new city with new names. You met new neighbors, and eventually, people stopped asking if you were dating.

Eventually, it turned to, "...It's sweet your grandson takes such good care of you."

You opened your mouth, but Yuji answered first, "Yeah."

The woman smiled warmly, "You're a good young man."

Young.

She walked away, unaware of how she added another crack to the already crumbling resolve he’d had. The silence lingered between you.

"You know..." You nudged his shoulder with yours. "I've always wanted grandchildren."

He groaned dramatically, "Oh my god."

"I'm kidding!”

You laughed together until neither of you could breathe.

And as much as he had laughed then, later that night- for as strong of a man that he was - Yuji cried in the shower where you couldn't hear him.

You’d wanted children, he knew that. Not because you’d explicitly told him, but he knew because you'd stop outside playgrounds. He knew by the way you always waved back when little kids stared.

Because you'd stop to look at tiny sweaters while shopping before quickly acting like you’d never known they existed. 

One evening, the words just spilled out of your mouth, "I would've liked being a mom." The words were so soft he almost missed them.

"...Yeah. I would’ve liked seeing it."

"But..." You reached over the table, taking his hand. "I like this life more."

He couldn't answer.

His throat had already closed.

Time became measured differently. Not by birthday candles on the cake. No, instead it became measured by your monthly doctor appointments. By how many times they changed your medication.

By how often you had to do blood work and physical therapy.

How many stairs you could still climb. How long your afternoon naps lasted.

Whether your hands shook enough to spill tea.

Sometimes, late at night, Yuji would watch you sleep, examining the way your face had changed.

The smooth cheeks he'd kissed as teenagers now carried delicate lines.

Your hair had become soft silver.

Your hands…god, your hands.

The same hands that once grabbed his sleeve while running across streets. The same hands that braided small pieces of Nobara's hair because she'd insisted she didn't know how, although Yuji believed she just wanted to be pampered.

The same hands that held Yuta’s newborn before...

Before.

Now they trembled while pouring coffee.

Now they bruised so easily that he was afraid to hold them too tight.

Now they looked...so fragile.

He hated that word.

Fragile.

You were never fragile.

He almost asked, hundreds of times.

Do you regret me?

He'd rehearse it while standing in the hallway, watching television, while washing dishes. And just when he thought he’d gotten the courage…then he'd see you humming while making breakfast.

Your hands are spotted with age and moving slower than they used to, carefully gripping the pan.

And suddenly, he couldn't.

Because he already knew your answer.

"Never." You'd smile. "Not once."

But was that true?

Or were you just protecting him?

Eventually, the answer came without him asking.

You were sitting by the window wrapped in a blanket.

"You thinking?" He asked, standing in the door way, watching you the way you were watching the rain outside.

You smiled, "Always."

"About?"

"You."

He blinked, "...Me?"

"I've been remembering."

"What?"

"Our first apartment."

He laughed, "The one with mold?" You smiled, nodding, "And the broken heater." "The neighbor that played trumpet at three in the morning?" He added with a twinge of annoyance, man he hated that guy!

You rolled your eyes, "I loved that apartment."

That, he was confused by, "It sucked." You slowly nodded, "It did, but…”

You looked away from the rain and back towards him, "I would've lived there forever if you were with me."

"I'm glad I met you." His chest tightened as you spoke. "I'm glad I chose you.” You smiled, adding on.

"Every version of my life where I don't meet you..." A small shake of your head. "I don't want it."

Yuji looked away, because if he didn't…he was sure that he would cry.

The diagnosis wasn't unexpected, but the terminal part was.

The doctors spoke gently, and you listened calmly.

And all Yuji could do was wonder how no one else was scared, terrified even. He’d heard nothing after the first sentence, but he knew what it meant.

He was going to lose you.

He hated hospitals, always had since his grandfather passed away.

So he hated it more when the equipment came home. When monitors and oxygen got hooked up in the bedroom. Medication schedules taped to the refrigerator. Machines that beeped all night. Machines that, as much as he hated them, he learned to operate with terrifying efficiency.

The bedroom slowly stopped looking like a bedroom.

It became something else Yuji was entirely too scared to name.

"You should sleep." You mumbled, fighting your own sleep to see him close his eyes first. "I'm fine." He insisted.

"You've been awake for hours." You reached a hand over and ran it through his hair, a small laugh being pulled out of you. "Gosh. You look awful."

He laughed, "You have tubes connected to you." You smiled, "You still look worse."

Your world shrank to the bedroom, then the living room, and you could even go to the garden on good days.

Eventually, as much as Yuji tried to fight the passing of time, you were refined to just the bed.

Yuji carried you everywhere when you wanted to move, like it weighed nothing.

Like if he held you tightly enough…time would realize his willpower and give up on this battle with him.

One afternoon, after a week inside, you whispered,  "I think..." your voice was shaky. "I'd like to see the sun." Yuji , ever loving and devoted, nodded immediately, "Okay."

He wrapped blankets around you and lifted you into his arms, very carefully, and took you outside.

The garden was blooming with hydrangeas.

You’d always loved hydrangeas.

He sat with you beneath them, your head rested against his shoulder.

"You remember..." You murmured. "The festival where you won me that giant stuffed bear?”

“I worked really hard for that-” He started, being cut off by your laugh. "You climbed the booth. The poor worker was so scared."

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but he could only smile, "He should've just given me the bear."

You laughed, as hard as you could now, and it turned into coughing. He waited until it stopped, hand patting your back with a practiced carefulness. 

"I'm tired." You sighed, leaning against him. He felt his heart shatter once more, "I know."

You looked up at him, eyes hazy, "You'll stay?" "Always."

Yuji Itadori would give his life force to you if you let him.

The last night, you couldn't speak much.

You said it hurt to breathe, and Yuji could tell by the way every inhale sounded borrowed.

And yet, he held your hand. Just like he'd done thousands of nights before.

The monitor filled the silence.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Your fingers squeezed his once, weakly.

"...Yuji."

"I'm here."

"I know."

Another breath.

"I was..." You took a long shaky breath. "So lucky."

Tears blurred everything around him.  "You gave me-"

He shook his head violently, willing you to stop- begging whatever god that was watching him to give you two more time together, "No."

"My whole life..."

Your smile…You still smiled so beautifully.

"...was so fun with you."

"It wasn't enough."

"It was everything." Your eyes drifted shut, "I love you."

He pressed his forehead against your hand. "I love you more."

The room grew quiet.

“Please don’t leave me.”

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

Your grip loosened.

Yuji waited, surely- surely - you’d take another breath.

Please.

Another. Anything.

Instead, the monitor screamed one endless, merciless note.

Yuji discovered that everything became silent when you lost the person who made your life so full of love.

It was silent enough that he could hear the clock ticking. Silent enough to hear rain against the windows.

Silent enough to hear himself whisper, "...Hey." As though you'd merely fallen asleep.

He brushed your hair behind your ear, just like he always did.

"You'll catch cold." His voice cracked. "You always fall asleep without blankets." He pulled one over you, hands shaking, "There."

Silence answered.

His thumb stroked the back of your hand.

It was already cooling. "Please..." Not because he believed you could hear him. Not because he thought you'd wake.

Just…Please.

Not you too.

He had buried his grandfather.

He had seen his mentors Nanami and Gojo die.

He had lost Megumi.

Too many friends. Too many graves. Too many names that he couldn’t even recall.

He had endured all of it.

Because somewhere, you had always been waiting at home.

Now...

There was nowhere left to return to.

Years later, the house was gone. The city had changed. And no one remembered your name.

Children played where your garden once bloomed.

Yuji sat beneath a lone hydrangea.

Still stuck in a young body with a withered, old, traumatized mind. But he was still breathing. Still cursed with tomorrow.

In his pocket, a tiny gold ring sat untouched. He rolled it between his fingers.

The metal had never dulled, unlike everything else.

"...You know..." His voice disappeared into the wind. "I finally figured out how to explain it." He smiled, a shaky one, he was sure, "If anyone asks..." He looked toward the sky, "...I'll just tell them my wife died."

He'd never gotten to call you that, not while you were alive. So he did now.

Even if no one was there to hear it. Even if the world had forgotten you.

He never would.

And for the first time in more than a century, Yuji Itadori wished with every aching part of himself that he had been born an ordinary man.

Because ordinary men could follow the people they loved, he could not.

So he stood, slipped the ring back into his pocket, and kept walking.

Alone.

Forever.

⁀☀︎ ©airybcby

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