Worst Time Possible - [Jujutsu Kaisen! Nanami Kento x M!Reader]
The office had always been quiet around Nanami Kento—not because people feared him, but because his presence demanded a certain order. Papers aligned. Voices lowered. Time respected.
And yet, there was one exception.
M/N.
At first, Nanami assumed it was coincidence. A junior assigned to assist him, nothing more. But patterns didn’t lie, and Nanami was a man who noticed patterns.
M/N was always there.
A step behind.
A chair away.
A silent figure appearing at his desk with neatly organized files before Nanami even asked.
He didn’t speak unless spoken to. Didn’t linger unnecessarily. Didn’t try to impress.
But he watched.
And then there were the lunches.
Always placed quietly on Nanami’s desk when he stepped away—perfectly timed, still warm. No note, no acknowledgment. But Nanami knew.
He always knew.
He simply chose not to say anything.
⸻
The day the earthquake hit, everything broke at once.
The first tremor was subtle—barely noticeable beneath the hum of fluorescent lights. Then the building groaned.
Glass shattered.
Concrete screamed.
And the world collapsed.
⸻
When Nanami regained consciousness, the first thing he registered was pain.
Sharp. Crushing. Immovable.
A slab of concrete pinned his lower body, heavy enough to steal his breath if he moved even slightly. Dust filled the air, thick and suffocating. Somewhere in the distance, alarms wailed—but they sounded far away. Detached. Useless.
“…tch.”
Nanami exhaled slowly, forcing himself to remain calm despite the situation. Panic would waste oxygen. Panic would kill him faster than the debris ever could.
He turned his head.
And froze.
“M/N.”
A few feet away—too far to reach, too close to ignore—M/N was trapped beneath a twisted beam of metal and fractured concrete. Blood stained his shirt, darker than it should have been. His breathing was shallow, uneven.
Worse than Nanami’s.
Of course.
Even now, he had taken the worse position.
“…Nanami…senpai.”
His voice was faint, but conscious.
Good.
“You’re alive,” Nanami said, steady as ever despite the tightening in his chest. “Don’t move. You’ll worsen the injuries.”
A pause.
“…I don’t think I can move anyway.”
Even now—calm.
Obedient.
It irritated Nanami more than it should.
⸻
Time stretched strangely beneath the rubble.
Minutes felt like hours. Breaths felt counted.
No rescue yet.
No voices close enough.
Nanami calculated silently. Injuries, blood loss, structural stability—
Not good.
Not survivable, if help didn’t come soon.
He exhaled slowly.
“So,” Nanami said after a long silence, his voice quieter now, more human. “You’ve been following me for months.”
A weak, embarrassed sound came from M/N. “…I wasn’t following.”
“You were.”
“…I was assigned to you.”
“You were not assigned to bring me lunch.”
Silence.
Nanami closed his eyes briefly.
“I chose not to address it,” he continued. “I assumed you would stop eventually.”
“…I didn’t.”
“I noticed.”
Another pause.
“…I know.”
That earned the faintest huff of breath from Nanami—almost a laugh, if one wasn’t paying attention.
⸻
More time passed.
The dust settled heavier.
Breathing became harder.
And then—
“…Nanami-senpai.”
“…Yes.”
There was a rustling sound. Weak. Strained.
Nanami frowned, shifting his head slightly to see.
M/N was struggling—one arm trembling as he reached into his pocket, movements clumsy from pain and blood loss.
“What are you doing?” Nanami asked sharply.
“…just… one second…”
The paper he pulled out was crumpled, worn—like it had been folded and unfolded too many times.
Nanami stared.
“…What is that?”
M/N didn’t answer immediately.
Instead, he took a shaky breath.
And started reading.
⸻
“I like the way you walk.”
Nanami blinked.
“…What?”
“I like the way you walk,” M/N repeated, voice trembling but determined. “It’s… steady. Like nothing can shake you.”
Nanami stared at him, stunned into silence.
“M/N—”
“I like your hands,” M/N continued, ignoring him now, eyes fixed on the paper as if it were the only thing keeping him grounded. “They’re always warm… even when you’re holding cold coffee.”
Nanami’s breath caught.
Of all moments—
Of all times—
“You’re—” Nanami started, incredulous. “You’re confessing?”
“…I wasn’t supposed to.”
“You think?”
“I thought…” M/N’s voice faltered, but he kept going. “I thought I’d die before I could say it. So… it didn’t matter.”
Nanami had no response to that.
None.
⸻
“I like your voice. Even when you’re scolding me.”
“…That’s not something to like.”
“It is to me.”
“M/N.”
“I like how you always notice everything,” M/N continued, softer now. “Even the things people don’t say.”
Nanami’s chest tightened.
“…then you should know this is a terrible idea.”
“I know.”
“And yet—”
“I know,” M/N repeated, a faint, broken laugh slipping through. “But I already wrote it. So I thought… at least once… I should say it properly.”
His voice grew weaker with each word.
But he didn’t stop.
⸻
“I like your eyes.”
“…they’re tired, sometimes. But they’re kind.”
Nanami said nothing.
For once—nothing.
⸻
“And I like you.”
The simplest line.
The heaviest one.
⸻
Silence fell again.
The dust. The weight. The slow ticking of time.
Nanami exhaled.
“…You’re an idiot.”
“…yeah.”
“You chose the worst possible moment.”
“…yeah.”
“You planned this?”
“…no.”
“Of course not.”
A pause.
Then, quieter—
“…but I’m glad you said it.”
M/N froze.
“…you are?”
Nanami turned his head slightly, gaze steady despite everything.
“Yes.”
⸻
And then—
Voices.
Distant at first.
And then closer.
“HELLO? ANYONE THERE?!”
Light broke through the cracks.
Movement. Shouting. Rescue.
⸻
M/N’s eyes widened.
“…you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Nanami almost smiled.
⸻
The world faded again after that.
Noise. Hands. Pain.
And then—
Nothing.
⸻
When Nanami woke up, everything was white.
Clean. Sterile. Quiet.
Alive.
He stared at the ceiling for a moment before turning his head.
“…M/N.”
A few beds away, wrapped in bandages and looking like he’d rather be buried under concrete again, M/N was very much alive.
And very much trying not to exist.
“…don’t,” M/N croaked weakly. “Please don’t say anything.”
Nanami sat up slightly despite the protest in his body.
“No.”
“…Nanami-senpai—”
“You confessed to me,” Nanami said calmly. “Under a collapsed building.”
“I KNOW.”
“You described me from head to toe.”
“I KNOW.”
“You thought you were dying.”
“I DID.”
“And now you want to pretend it didn’t happen?”
M/N pulled the blanket over his face.
“…yes.”
Nanami paused.
Then—
“No.”
The blanket lowered just enough for one mortified eye to peek out.
“…no?”
“No.”
Nanami adjusted himself, ignoring the pain, his gaze steady—unavoidable.
“You don’t get to say something like that,” he said, quieter now, “and then take it back.”
“I’m not taking it back—”
“Good.”
“…I just want to disappear.”
“That’s not an option either.”
M/N groaned, dragging the blanket fully over his head again.
“…I should’ve died under that rubble.”
Nanami’s expression sharpened immediately.
“Don’t say that.”
The firmness in his voice cut through the room.
M/N stilled.
“…sorry.”
A pause.
Then, softer—
“…I didn’t think I’d survive after saying all that.”
Nanami exhaled.
“…neither did I.”
Silence lingered.
But this time—it wasn’t heavy.
⸻
“…so,” M/N muttered from under the blanket. “What happens now?”
Nanami leaned back slightly, eyes closing for a brief moment.
“…now,” he said, “you recover.”
“…and?”
A beat.
“…and then we’ll have a proper conversation.”
M/N froze.
“…proper…?”
Nanami opened his eyes, glancing at him.
“Yes.”
A pause.
Then, with the faintest hint of something softer beneath his usual composure—
“…preferably not under life-threatening circumstances.”
⸻
M/N slowly lowered the blanket.
His face was still red.
Still embarrassed.
Still very much regretting every life decision that led him here.
“…okay.”
Nanami nodded once.
And for the first time—
M/N didn’t look away.
