I Don't Like Him! (SUKUNA X MEGUMI)

8

Hello! *please don't hate me*

Megumi

I was so nervous.

Boy, was I nervous.

I hadn't expected to be this nervous, I really, really hadn't.

Up until now, today, I had pushed the thought of Sukuna to the very back of my head, refusing to think or even acknowledge the fact that we were going to begin practicing together at Sukuna's this weekend. It was as though I refused to accept it had actually happened- Sukuna, of all people, had made me a much-too-good-to-be-true offer, and I, much to my own chagrin, had agreed to it. Even though Yuuji was on tenterhooks all week himself, continually reminding me about how I was supposed to memorize every single thing I saw at Sukuna's and reiterate it word-for-word to him the next day, I was curiously unaffected. I refused to let intrusive thoughts faze me- though it was difficult, extremely difficult. Especially since Sukuna now permanently sat behind me, and there was no way I could completely avoid his attention.

We hadn't really talked since I walked up to him that day and agreed to take up on his coaching offer. He sat behind me, yes, and occasionally leant forward to whisper some snide comment into my ear (I'd stopped minding those, honestly), but we'd never really had a proper conversation together. Not that I wanted to. He probably had no room for actual intellectual conversation in that huge thick skull of his- he was mostly surrounded by his blockhead friends, people who crowded around his seat and made a huge ruckus and cracked lame-ass jokes and laughed like foghorns and were generally very irritating.

I don't know why, but I couldn't help but feel Sukuna wasn't really...supposed to be with them. Like, they weren't bad, or anything- just a bit too stupid- but I felt, somehow, that his place belonged elsewhere. Even if he seemed to enjoy their company a bit too much. Even it got...a little on my nerves. Actually, a lot on my nerves.

Does it make me sound petty when I say that seeing him smile and laugh in the company of others- look genuinely happy, busy, involved, popular, radiating his I-don't-give-a-shit playboy attitude- made me feel...weird? Like I wasn't jealous or anything. I wouldn't kill to be friends with the people he roamed around with- Yuuji and Nobara were perfect for me. I don't know why exactly I felt that way- maybe I was envious of how popular he was? But that didn't really make sense. I'd never cared too much about popularity before. I knew I got good grades, and I looked pretty decent, and lots of girls liked me, even if I never liked them back- but I did have to work for that popularity. It wouldn't just come to me. Sukuna's popularity was undoubtedly effortless- maybe that was what got on my nerves? How easy he had stuff for him? How he only had to say one word- one sentence- and send everybody around him into fits of laughter, while I sat in front and tried my best to ignore him and pored over science like a proper little nerd?

And yet, hadn't I always been annoyed by his attention? Hadn't I always hated the way he bullied me? Okay, maybe that wasn't bullying, but we never exactly exchanged niceties either. Why I was so desperate to suddenly have something that I'd deliberately pushed away before?

Okay, now I'm definitely overthinking.

Anyway, here I was. It was Saturday, noon to be precise. I stood in front of the half-broken mirror in my dad's room (the glass smashed when he threw a bottle at it one day during one of his drunk fits) and looked pensively into my reflection. I wore a baggy t-shirt nearly three times my size, and a pair of not-so-clean sports shorts. I'd taken a shower, brushed my hair and tried to make myself look as neat and presentable as possible (with my kind of hair) but it still didn't feel enough.

The second I thought that, I cringed. Why was I being so paranoid? I was just going over to take some extra coaching from Ryoumen Sukuna. The captain of the basketball team. A guy. Not even a girl, someone who I would have had to dress up for to impress. Sukuna probably wouldn't even take more than a brief glance at me. Then why the hell did I want to look my very best for him?