Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

beep.. beep.. be-

The phone alarm, that had been set to an optimistic 7:15 the night before, diligently does its duty, until the phone's owner rudely interrupts it and shuts it off.

"fuckin' shuddup already.. i'm up, i'm up." Yuuji mumbles to himself as he places his phone back down next to where his head rests on his pillow. Signing deeply, not ready for a new day to begin yet, Yuuji decides to rest his eyes for a little longer. 

Accurate to the story as old as time, he in fact does not end up only resting his eyes, and it is indeed not only for a few minutes. 

The second time Yuuji gets woken up it's not as gentle, at least as gentle as an alarm can be. Instead, it's his uncle's doing. He isn't even really Yuuji's uncle either, just one of his dad's friends who got the honor of raising a child he hadn't even known about pushed onto him in a seemingly normal late afternoon.

The clock was ticking away, having just reached 8:43, as Kenjaku was returning to his apartment. What counts as a home depends on who you ask, and if you were to ask Kenjaku at this very moment, his was his humble one-bedroom apartment, on the outskirts of Sendai.

His janky fridge loudly makes its presence known in the late nights when the rest of the world seemingly fades away, or how his cough can't forget his backsides imprint as it loudly protests his choice of sitting down; might deter some from calling it a home, but not Kenjaku. It ain't much, but it's home, as the saying goes.

Having been ready to crack open a cold one and disappear into his dirty green cough since early this morning, Kenjaku seemingly could not get home quickly enough. 

There were barely any people out, the sun was beginning to set and the only thing reminding Kenjaku that he was, indeed, still alive were the cicadas singing in the distance. All this worked to take the edge off Kenjaku's conscience, just a day like any other. At least, it could've been. If there hadn't been a kid sat in front of his apartment complex's front door. 

Not really knowing what to make of the situation, Kenjaku gently put the plastic bag of groceries he had been carrying, down, unable to look away from the child who was looking at him like Kenjaku might know the answers to life.

That's how they "met". An abandoned child and an overworked, unimpressed man who REALLY didn't know what to make of the whole situation. Sure, the kid might have forgotten his key at home and was waiting for his parents to come home, but the little backpack in his lap, as well as the note he in his hand, told a different story. Everything about this 4 foot something child was off-putting to Kenjaku, the dried tear stains on the child's chubby cheeks, the way he certainly wasn't dressed for the weather, wearing only a yellow zip-up hoodie along with a pair of knee-high shorts, when the weather was closing in on 10 degrees Celsius. 

The note that  "the kid", Yuuji, had held in a fight grip read;

"Hey Kinji, long time no see. So long story short, my new girlfriend and I are gonna skip town for a few days, you know, lay low and all that, and I would really owe 'ya if you looked after the brat for us. It won't be for long, and he doesn't complain, barely speaks actually, so I bet even you could handle it. Just make sure to feed him a couple times a day and give him somewhere to sleep until we get back, sound good? Cool, see 'ya in a couple days then!

And that was that. A dude Kenjaku had met only a couple months ago at a bar, had seemingly dumps his kid on him. Awesome. No really, fucking splendid. I'm sure this won't ruin his plans for the rest of the day or anything.

Needless to say, Kenjaku's "friend" had not only been away for "a couple days" as the letter, if you could call it that, had implied. In fact, it had been maybe four years since Kenjaku had last heard from him, and that was only in the form of another, more proper, letter with a few thousand yen along with it, as if that was anywhere close to enough to raise a whole ass fucking offspring in his stead.

All of this had, at best, mangled any potentially positive feelings Kenjaku could've had towards Yuuji, and reduced the man's view of Yuuji to just another chore, another unnecessary burden on his shoulders, a responsibility that had been dumped on him by the universe."

So anyway, Yuuji's self-proclaimed uncle had truly managed to wake Yuuji up, where his phone alarm couldn't, by loudly, bordering on slammed, his bedroom door open and invited himself in. 

"I'm shipping you overseas if you let that fucking alarm of yours go off again, dumbass. I'll really do it this time too, so don't fucking test me." Kenjaku opened with, whilst taking in the state of Yuuji's room, well technically it wasn't Yuuji's but his, but hell would freeze over before Kenjaku willingly let a hormone pumped teenager loose in the rest of his apartment, so he had given Yuuji his own previous bedroom and taken up residence on his trusty cough instead.

"yeah, yeah, i'm sure you will. I was just getting up anyway." Yuuji responded, definitely not having had plans of getting up, before Kenjaku came in. Nonetheless, Yuuji waved Kenjaku off whilst pushing himself up into sitting on his bed, though not moving further than that, just letting gravity settle in his body while forced to accept that there was no more postponing this day. 

"-oh and don't even think about leaving this room like this. it seriously looks like a fucking bomb site in here," Kenjaku stops examining the bedroom as his eyes land on a very much "over-it" looking Yuuji, he snickers, "- not that you look much better yourself."

Chapter Text

Can't a dude sleep in peace anymore-? Yuuji thinks as he carefully maneuvers past everything currently residing on his floor. Some of the mess consists of shirts, pants and- oooh so that's where my hoodie's been , he thinks as he fishes out a dark gray hoodie, with a lighter rib cage print on the back, along with a big pocket on the front, out of a pile of clothes on a chair, the "not clean enough to go in the closet but too clean to be washed" chair, if you will. Yuuji quickly pulls it over his head. The moderately over-sized piece of clothing envelops him the same way it has dozens of times before, easing Yuuji with its familiar texture and smell, consisting of both Megumi and some hints of Kugisaki, not that Yuuji cares, or even notices stuff like that anyway! That definitely has nothing to do with Yuuji's consistent choice to wear that same hoodie most days of the week, for months now. That would just be silly. haha.

He was picking up a pair of fairly new black jeans that Yuuji had bought at a flea market with Nobara about a week ago? Shit maybe it was two, anyway Yuuji only went cause Kugisaki wouldn't stop complaining about how " you only ever wear the same three outfits!! I mean seriously, that old man hasn't kicked you out yet, has he?" You see, it's not that he doesn't own enough clothes to be comfortable, rather he simply prefers specific articles of clothing that he owns, sue him. 

Quickly stuffing his backpack with all his notebooks, pencils, and lone worksheets scattered around it, Yuuji zips it up and throws it over his right shoulder. Standing in front of his tall mirror, inspecting his reflection. Grabbing a hairbrush off his desk, taking it through his pale, pink hair a couple of times, followed by doing the same with his hand once, Yuuji calls it good enough. I should dye it again soon, my roots are getting kinda long, he finds himself thinking before stuffing his, barely clinging to life, earphones in. He only tends to use the right earbud since the left has given up long ago, only spewing out weird extorted versions of the songs he tries to listen to. But that's okay, you know what they say; if it ain't broke, don't fix it! Although they are technically broken, that's not important! 

Quietly opening his bedroom door, he peaks outside into the rest of the apartment, trying to listen for any sounds that would indicate Kenjaku still being up and about. He and Yuuji have this unspoken routine, Kenjaku at least makes sure Yuuji has most of the things he would need day-to-day, and Yuuji stays out of his way. It's not perfect, but it's better than constantly stepping on Kenjaku's toes like Yuuji used to do when he was younger, yeah, he grew out of that pretty quickly. 

Seeing a quiet Kenjaku lying on his couch, back facing Yuuji, the dark-clothes-clad, freshly turned eighteen-year-old gently walks over to their genkan, to put on his shoes. Yuuji knows that a simple plan has been foiled as he hears the older man stirring over on the matte-green couch. 

"We both know you didn't clean up the mess you call your room that fast, kid," Kenjaku grumbles, seemingly having meant what he said, about Yuuji cleaning his room, earlier.

".. yeah well, I did so.. gonna head to school now, bye-" Yuuji responded sheepishly, just wanting to get out of here already. He stands still for a couple more seconds, waiting for some sort of retaliation or objection from the man in front of him, who has only turned to lie on his back, still not facing him. When the older doesn't say anything, Yuuji takes that as Kenjaku letting him go, not bothering to trust his, very correct, assumption about the state of the younger's room. Yeah, wouldn't that be nice?

"Whatever, it don't matter 'cause you're not leaving like that, either way. You positively stink, omega ." Ah, great. That, for sure, is one way to throw everything Yuuji thought he had under control out the window, in one swift move. The very familiar sinking feeling that Yuuji feels whenever anyone points out his second gender, never mind just straight up calling him an omega . He wants to throw up. Everything is dirty suddenly, his skin, his bones, the way his palms are getting sweatier by the second, all of it. Gross. Omegan. Yuuji wants to leave, storm out the front door, and slam it as hard as possible. Maybe scream at the man before him, call him a creep, a perv, "fuck do you care about how I smell, for?!". He settles for, well more like his body does, seeing as his mind is elsewhere, retreating to their shared bathroom. Yuuji can see himself in the mirror above the sink, having locked the bathroom door and turned on the lights, as he lets the backpack he was carrying slip from his shoulder onto the floor. Yuuji can see himself, but it's worlds apart from what he saw earlier, in his room when he was yet to leave the false safety of those four walls. He can see himself but, not really. Whoever is looking back at him looks nothing like Yuuji. The person in the mirror's eyes are wide open, almost scared-looking, like a deer in headlights, they even look like they're shaking. Yuuji could never look like that. An off comment from another person could never affect Yuuji like that, the same Yuuji who often gets into fights at school, to prove that he can stand up for himself, the same Yuuji who always carries a pocket knife with him, knowing he will use it if it comes down to it. 

Yeah no, that Yuuji could never look like what this mirror is trying to tell him. Having regained his fake sense of control, Yuuji squats down, opening the cabinet under the sink, reaching for the opened cardboard box at the very back of it, squished behind the sink's water pipes. His hand returns to him with two transparent, bandage-looking patches. Looking at them, Yuuji doesn't feel much of anything actually, not anymore, anyway. He used to for sure, back then he could barely hold them without wanting to gag, knowing the implication they had. The implication behind why he was holding them, behind why he owned them at all in the first place.

Doing the same as he has practically every day since he was, what- 14? 15? something like that, Yuuji peels the back of the patches, pulls the neckline of his hoodie to the left, sticks one of the two patches onto the crook of his neck's left side, and then the same for the right. There, much better. He thinks for himself, the air around him starting to feel less stuffy, and his head clearer. Yuuji hastily washes his hands, does an even sloppier job drying them on a towel, picks up his previously discarded backpack off the floor, then promptly leaves the bathroom, and heads straight for the front door once more. This time Yuuji doesn't stop to listen to whatever it is Kenjaku is trying to say, not caring. Yuuji simply grabs onto the backs of both his sneakers, reaches for the front door's handle, turns it, steps outside, cutting Kenjaku off mid-sentence by closing the door behind himself, and he's out. 

It doesn't matter that he has to bend down to put on and tie his shoes outside, or that his heart is still going crazy in his chest, none of it matters cause he's free for the day now. Maybe he could ask Megumi if he could crash at his place for a night, maybe he, Megumi, and Kugisaki could all have a sleepover at Megumi's. Yuuji chuckles out loud to himself. That stupid runt would never have a social life outside of school if Yuuji and Kugisaki stopped inviting themselves over. 

Taking a deep breath, and looking up from his shoes, Yuuji wakes up. Okay well not literally, since he already woke up say, 20 minutes ago. But he mentally wakes up and registers things. Things like how pretty the rising sun looks, on the horizon above a few buildings. Thankful that he brought a hoodie, Yuuji starts walking to the train station, cigarette in one hand and a lighter, that is struggling to light against the morning breeze.

Everybody says that the first drag of a cig is the best, and there's no doubt about it.

Inhale. Hold. Exhale. Watch the smoke. Repeat. It's a nice rhythm, familiar, predictable. None of which could be used to describe what Yuuji looks like, to anyone who doesn't know him, anyway. Walking in strides, wearing loose, ripped black jeans along with a hoodie in a similar color, with home-bleached designs on it, consisting of ribs in their respective places, some English words that Yuuji didn't really understand, but they looked cool so it was an easy decision to bleach them onto the hoodie, as well. Earphones in, hood up and dyed hair, paired with his face piercings did, in fact, not make him look approachable, thankfully. You see that's the look Yuuji was going for, classical "bad-boy", to hopefully discourage people from approaching him, unless necessary. And sure , his looks have gotten him in trouble before, like getting blamed for causing trouble that he had nothing to do with or that one time he got detention cause his high school homeroom teacher thought he was a delinquent, even tho his grades were still decent back then, hmnp.

Getting lost in thought is harmless enough, during any normal circumstances, and not when you are actively trying not to think about something. One's brain has a way of being your biggest enemy.

And Yuuji is about to be reminded of this. I mean, I don't even look that much like an omega anymore, so why does that old geezer always get hung up on it? I didn't even do anything to him! He's always on my case about me being an omega, even if he never says it out loud, I know he thinks less of me for it. BUT I DO EVERYTHING I'M SUPPOSED TO! I've always made sure to keep my body well-trained, I've even picked up boxing lately. I always make sure to put on scent patches, I take my suppressants, and I never even talk to him about being an omega. Nothing's enough for him. FUCK!! Why do I even care?! It's not like he's my actual dad. Nah, that bastard jumped at the opportunity of ditching me. What am I even doing wrong? Why do I always find ways to fuck things up, just when they start to look promising, too. It's like everybody else has some sixth sense, telling them what to say at all times, showing them how to act, what's "appropriate" and what not. Why can't I have that? Someone to guide me through this miserable fucking world. 

To be fair, I'd probably find some way to fuck that up too. 

Zoning back in, the first thing Yuuji takes note of is how he's almost at the train station, the second thing is how he could swear on his life that everyone around him, seemingly waiting on their trains a bit from the platform, is looking at him. And not in the "oh-haha-that-guy-looks-emo" way but, rather, in the "fuck-is-wring-with-him..?" way. Precisely not what Yuuji needed right now. He fishes his phone out of the front pocket of his pants, to open the front camera and, as discreetly as he can manage, check if there's something on his face, or in his teeth, or if his hair is messed up, or maybe he's wearing his hoodie inside-out, or just anything that would warrant getting stared down like he is. When he finds nothing, it just works to make him feel worse, more nervous, anxi- oh. Oh no, nono. He needs to leave. Right now. But he can’t make it look obvious!! Nobody can know he's in a rush, that'll only make him look more of a fool! God, fucking shit, damn it. Get away, hide, please, stop looking at me. 

Yuuji doesn't know where he's going, but he finds himself inside of one of the train station's locked toilet stalls. Deep breath in. 1, 2, 3, 4- deepbreathout. 

" God, why isn't it fucking helping. I hate this, I hate everything about this. I hate myself, why the fuck did I have to be born an omega?!" As Yuuji is seriously about to give in to the panic, in a public bathroom of all places, his brain supplies Yuuji with the seemingly random memory of meeting up with some of his older friends a couple of days ago. Well, Yuuji isn't quite sure if they would count as friends, per se, but maybe more like people he knows . He met the group of four once, during a detention, that he had actually deserved this time , and Yuuji supposes they thought he was cool enough to remember, but not cool enough to bring into their group. 

Wow, thanks brain, just what I needed. Another example of how I'm not adequate. Or- wait. Why did I meet up with them-?  The pills. His supply had gotten uncomfortably low, so he hit one of them up, asking if they knew anyone who could sell him any. They had responded, saying that they could probably get some depending on how fast he needed it. The rest is history, as Yuuji reaches to pull his backpack off his back, slinging it around and opening a tinier pocket on the front of it. As his fingers grasp around the little baggie he keeps in there for emergencies, like right now, for example , the affect that simply holding it has is instant. He knows that he won't have to think about dumb shit like this for a bit, anymore. He can just live his life like he's supposed to, like everybody else does. It's almost funny, he thinks as he pries the small zip-lock bag open, grabbing one of the pills residing in it, throwing it into his mouth, and swallowing, how something as tiny as this pill can fix me, even if it's just temporarily. 

Closing the bag and securing it in his backpack again, Yuuji lets the backpack fall onto the floor of the stall to lean against the makeshift wall that makes up the cubicle, he slumps down onto the toilet seat, head falling backward and landing against the wall behind the toilet. His eyes are closed, taking deep breaths, and it's actually helping this time. Everything that he was panicking over just now, fades in relevance. Everything comes back into perspective. His mind finally slows down to a pace he can actually keep up with, able to dissect his thoughts properly, no longer being helpless to just watch them snowball into worse thoughts.

A light buzzing noise brings Yuuji out of his serene state, but it doesn't annoy him, it almost makes him happy, someone wants to talk to me. He pulls his phone out again, to check what the notification was. It's Megumi!! Yuuji thinks to himself as he unlocks his phone and reads the message properly.

Big scawy alpha: yo. where r u ?                        - 7:21

Big scawy alpha: im not waiting for u if ur late.  - 7:36

me: oh shit sorry, didnt see ur messages until now :3 - 7:37

me: im in the stations restroom - 7:37

me: in one of the stalls ^^ - 7:38

Putting his phone back into his front pocket, and leaning back against the wall again, Yuuji went back to just breathing.

Not long after, the door to the restroom opened, followed by a very familiar scent. Yuuji perked up before the person who had entered even said anything, normally he would scold himself for doing that since a beta, that he is pretending to be, shouldn't be that sensitive to scents, but right now he doesn't care, cause Megumi is here!

Popping out of the stall, Yuuji scans the room for one of his favorite idiots. When Yuuji does spot him, Megumi seems taken aback, though Yuuji can't imagine why, as if someone randomly appearing out of a stall doesn't warrant more of a reaction than Megumi had.  

"Megumi !!!" Yuuji exclaims as he throws himself onto the other, wrapping himself around Megumi who is taken aback at first, but quickly recovers and puts his hands on both Yuuji's shoulders, letting the shorter hug him. 

"Meguuummiiiiii! I'm so happy to see youuu!" The pink-haired male continues, making the raven-haired one let out a gentle chuckle .

"We literally saw each other yesterday, idiot." 

"I still missed you! Wait- are you saying you didn't miss me??" Yuuji pouts.

"Wh- no I- sigh . I swear, sometimes you act more like an omega than a beta, Yuuji." Megumi comments, having no ill intent when saying it, not knowing the impact that his comment would have had on the shorted, just a few minutes earlier. For now, it seems the gods smile upon Megumi, as all Yuuji responds with is a quiet giggle.

" Hmm, oh gee, I wonder why!" Yuuji says sarcastically, letting on too much of what he had been doing his damnedest to hide from his friends, a little too easily.

And for which future, sober Yuuji will be thankful, idiots tend to come in pairs (reads: they are both idiots), and all Megumi does is frown, tilting his head questioningly, like a confused puppy. Saved from further questioning by the latter, they both look to the rails as they can hear, what is presumably, pulling up to the platform. The pair rush out of the restroom, knowing they are as good as dead to the world if they miss this train. Just barely making it onto a train car, they settle down and take a couple of empty seats. Megumi already has his phone in his hand, Yuuji is pretty sure that the other is trying to tell him something Kugisaki sent him, about how she'll meet them at their schools front gate, but he takes note of none of it. Staring out the oposite window of the train car, Yuuji starts feeling quite sleepy, and well since he did plan on getting a little more shuteye than he ended up getting this morning, some now couldn't hurt, right? 

Hopefully not, cause that was all it took for Yuuji to convince himself to slumber off, ending up leaning on Megumi's shoulder, who in turn pays the pink-head no mind, as it is not Megumi's first time dealing with a sleepdeprived and-.. something, Yuuji Itadori.

And with that, the duo is off, the train well on its way of taking them to their destination. However, back at the train station, that now lies behind them in their journey, or more specifically, in the station's restroom, inside of one of the stalls, ontop of the cold tiles sits a certain someone's backpack, out of mind and abandoned.

Chapter Text

Where are those idiots, surely their train has arrived by now?, Kugisaki thought to herself, leaning against the concrete wall surrounding their school's main building. Arms crossed over her chest, foot tapping on the ground, a resting scowl on her face, displeased . The built-up irritation at Yuuji and Megumi for making her wait, while also not responding to her messages asking where the hell they are, combined with the rapidly increasing fear of being late to homeroom, Kugisaki decides that, fuck it. If those ass wipes can't even commute to school, she might as well find them and drag them here, herself.

Picking up her school bag from the ground beside her, Kugisaki checked her and Megumi's dms one last time, yet again met with no new messages. She pushed up from the wall and headed towards the train station where they, hopefully, were.

A couple of it’s okay, they have to be here somewhere , a bit of “I really just lost track of time, Nobara!”, and a few smacks at the back of the two males’ heads later, the trio was sat in their first class, homeroom, getting side-eyed by their teacher as he was telling the class the day’s agenda. It was a tell-tale sign that the three of them would probably end up getting a talking-to after class for being late, and then some more for Yuuji’s decision to try to reason with their teacher. This was only received as back-talk. 

Why that knucklehead thinks our homeroom teacher woke up today and suddenly decided to become a reasonable sack of flesh, is truly beyond me, Kugisaki thought to herself. Like, if he wants to dig his own grave, by all means, go ahead, but don’t go dragging me down with you. 

Thinking of gentle ways to explain herself to her parents when she gets home later that day, Kugisaki’s attention was caught by some birds flying outside the window she was sat next to. Look like magpies, probably. -Or wait, no, their bellies are black, so they’re probably crows-

A, unnecessarily, loud cough from their teacher brought Kugisaki’s attention back to where it was assumed to stay. 

“What’s wrong, miss Kugisaki? Feeling a little distracted?” Their teacher followed up, making some of their classmates turn around and look at her, curious about their teacher’s sudden inquiry. The question was formulated as such, a question, but it wasn’t. Not really. Not when the rest of the class’ reaction was putting a sly, barely there, smile on the teacher’s face, he just wanted to embarrass Kugisaki for not paying attention. Fucking asshole. Kugisaki really didn’t understand how anyone could think this dude could be reasoned with, let alone have a conversation with him. 

—

Yuuji could tell Kugisaki was upset, the signs were everywhere. Both her forearms lay on her desk, with her head on top, facing into the desk. Her left leg was bouncing, it only did that when she was stressed, or in this case, irritated. Her scent was off too, not that that would end up affecting the already recreationally affected Yuuji. Because that would just be silly.

Looking at Kugisaki, trying to telepathically apologize for whatever it was he did to upset her , Yuuji slowly started swaying from side to side. It went unnoticed for a while, the teacher having already moved on from Kugisaki and onto writing out their new seating plan on the blackboard, at the front of the classroom. 

Now, whilst being seated towards the back of a classroom was usually a positive thing, it certainly was not for Yuuji as he tried his, honest to god, best to decipher what their teacher was scribbling out. But it truly was no use. Yuuji was still swaying, except it wasn’t just him swaying anymore, because of course, the room had to start swaying in opposition to him. Logically Yuuji knew the room wasn’t actually swaying, but it sure fucking felt like it. 

Saliva. I’m getting saliva in my mouth. Wait, oh fuck.

With no warning, Yuuji shot out of his seat, threw the door to the classroom open, and rushed through it before slamming it behind himself. 

Hurrying his way down the hallway, right hand covering his mouth, he was begging any higher deity out there to just let him get to the bathrooms before he threw up. If he barfed in the hallway, he would probably just die, that would be way easier than dealing with everyone’s shit.

Nothing was making sense. Yuuji could have sworn he walked on the ceiling for a bit there, passed through at least two other dimensions, and aged a good ten years before he laid eyes on that beautiful ‘Bathroom’ sign, hanging on a wall.  

Trying his darnedest to ignore all the voices he was hearing, telling him uninterpretable sentences, Yuuji stumbled into the boys' bathroom. He tried to hold himself up off of the sinks before ultimately ending up slinking to the floor, underneath the sinks with his back to the wall in a fetal position. He wasn’t even nauseous anymore, he just wanted everything to stop spinning.

I wanna fucking cry, please, someone just make it stop. Yuuji thought, as a quiet whimper found its way out of him, along with an equally silent tear that made its way over Yuuji’s nose before falling onto the floor. 

It felt as if nothing had ever happened in this bathroom before, as if time within it had stood completely still, unmoving, for centuries. That is, before Yuuji had made his way into this bathroom’s own little pocket in space, effectively trapping himself in this black hole of a high school toilet.

It was a little comforting in its own way, the thought of being in his own world, where no one else was allowed in. Just Yuuji, four walls, and the cold tile his face was mushed against as his hot breath got slower, and slower… and slower…

—

On the other side of town, a locally owned shop had just opened its doors for the day. If you had been there before and someone asked you for directions, no matter who you were or how good your memory was, trying to help would be a lost cause.

Unless you had an exact address, or knew the route by heart, all anyone could do was tell you to just head towards the loudest music around, assuming it was past 10 o’clock in the evening. You see, yes the building was indeed a club infamous for the loud music it always blasted at night. A large, gothic-looking neon sign reading ‘Malevolent Shrine’ would decorate the wall above the double door entrance, along with a smaller, less attention-seeking lit-up sign in the window, right of the doors, that would read ‘Club’ . Red light would pour out into the dark street, challenging anyone who walks past to investigate.

However, during the day it was a simple tattoo and piercing parlor. The right side of the building, having been dedicated to the club known as Malevolent Shrine, would be made inaccessible, its lights turned off, and music killed. All to give way to the left side of said building, known to the world as the tattoo & piercing parlor, Malevolent Shrine. It was an interesting concept, a double-functionality building, clearly making finding it a tall task, but that was of no concern to the owner, or well, honorable owner, more like. The actual person whose name was written on the legal side of things belonged to someone who had long since passed, but one young man had stepped up to take their place, in every way except legal. 

Hell, what was he supposed to do? Go to the police?  

“Yes hello, I know absolutely nothing about legal procedures and no one has said anything or told me that I need to transfer my bar’s ownership blah blah..” 

Yeah, no. Not in a million years. He didn’t need any of that anyway ‘cause even though his name wasn’t on any official papers, everyone who had any say in the matter recognized him as the owner now. And sure, he may be lacking on the legal side of business, but hell, he knew how to run the joint. Had been ever since he was a scrawny teenager, desperate enough for money to lie on the job interview, giving his future employer a fake ID, stating he was 18 and could thus legally work there. On either side of the shop. 

The customer service wasn’t always smiles and polite words, and the place wasn’t exactly in the safest part of town , but most customers came back, which had to mean he was doing something right.

Flicking a switch at the back of the shop to light up the place, using a remote to turn on the speakers before pressing play on a playlist made specifically for the shop. Plugging in the sign reading ‘Tattoo & Piercing Shop’ in the display window, grabbing an energy drink before cracking it open, sitting down at a desk conveniently placed just after the building's main entrance. This is to let the man easily oversee any and all traffic into the place. Right as he was ready to log into the shop’s system and start handling emails, another one’s voice called out to him.

“Mornin’, Ryomen. Glad to see you’re still alive and kicking after last night.” The one known as Uraume , a name they, together with Sukuna, had come up with a long time ago, said.

“Y’know, it’s almost impressive how you manage to sound polite, yet so casual at the same time, Uraume,” Sukuna answered without looking up from the computer screen in front of him, having recognized Uraume’s presence the second they stepped foot in the room. Leaning backward in his chair whilst taking another sip from his drink, Sukuna looked over to where Uraume was waiting, leaning against a wall with their shoulder and arms crossed, for instructions from the former. 

Feeling no sense of rush, Sukuna let his gaze linger on the other for a bit, appreciating Mother Nature’s eye for design, as he would put it. Having Sukuna’s eyes on them used to make electricity run along Uraume’s skin, leaving goosebumps in its wake. It used to be something of a reward, a treat even; but not anymore. 

The gesture had lost its effect because, as many others before them, Uraume had realized that was all they were going to get, that little gesture. Seemingly no matter how upfront or obvious they had been about their feelings towards Sukuna, in an attempt to make the other act, nothing had come of it. 

To put it simply, they weren't exactly just friends , as the constant teasing between the two would imply, but nothing more than friends either, as the lack of anything more serious than the teasing had made clear.  

Not wanting to, once again, go down the seemingly endless rabbit hole of past memories when that had not seemed to be the case, Uraume stood up straight, no longer leaning on the wall. They then started walking towards the shop’s door that led from the opening hallway into the parlor. Without turning to face the other, Uraume put one hand into the air as a lazy wave.

“I’m gonna go get the studio ready, tell me if you need anything.” was all they said before disappearing into the other room, to Sukuna’s right. He sighed softly into his hands, covering his face with them. Suddenly having lost any and all focus to dedicate to emails about shit he did not even care about, Sukuna decided to make the most of the still mostly full energy drink at his side, he headed towards the back for a cigarette break.

Sukuna twisted the door’s handle with his unoccupied hand, pushed it open with his foot, and stepped outside. Even though the air inside was kept in relatively good condition, he could not help taking a deep breath of the outside air as it reached him. If only for a moment, that ugly feeling in the pit of his stomach that had been gnawing away at him, telling him something was wrong, let up. Like he had planted roots on the concrete stairs leading up to the backdoor, and connected to the outside world’s neural network. Sukuna would deny it if asked about it, but for a fleeting second, he could've sworn he was flying among the birds above his head, that he swayed alongside the grass in the wind. Of course, as all good things do, all that tranquility was ripped from his just as fast as he had been granted it as he opened his eyes once more. Now all he knew, once again, was the not-so-charming , tall, red brick wall of the neighboring building, the trash bags that lay next to the already overfilled bin in a corner, along with the foul, although bearable at this distance, odor they emitted.

The ever-consuming anxiety was back in Sukuna’s core. He didn't want to do any of this anymore, so he fished out his cigarette pack from his front pocket, took one out, put it between his lips, and lit it. 

‘Cause what’s a man to do, but try his best to cope?

Chapter Text

She said he’d had a fever. Yuuji’s art teacher had covered for him when he was too out of it on that bathroom floor to realize he should stop counting all the eyes in the ceiling and focus on his surroundings. The whole situation was dumb, and he knew that. He had shown up to class without a backpack and his mind on cloud 9. Then had proceeded to bolt out of homeroom after not even 20 minutes. It was almost impressive how much he had managed to mess things up already today. 

Had it not been for Miss Kazue, the almost 18-year-old would have gotten chewed out by the principal, along with Megumi and Kugisaki, in all lightly hood. Instead, he’s retracing his steps to the train station where his backpack is hopefully still waiting for him, metaphorical tail tucked between his legs, nurse’s letter crumpled up in his hand explaining to his caretaker why he was returning home early.

—

Concern wouldn’t begin to cover it. Yuuji had barely toppled out of his chair and out the door before both his friends gave each other one look from across the classroom and simultaneously rushed after him. This was not exactly a common occurrence, but well, it wasn’t exactly uncommon either… Both Kugisaki and Megumi had been grilling Yuuji about setting up a meeting with the school’s counselor, as it was pretty obvious to the two of them that their short friend had some sort of perpetual anxiety. 

Usually, hugging Yuuji real tight for a bit would help somewhat, or even just reminding him to breathe slowly and breathe deeply. But not this time. It was like he couldn’t even hear them calling out to him, cause he didn’t look back or even slow down, he just kept running. 

A little later, the raven head found Yuuji on the floor of a rarely used restroom and sent the brown haired beta a quick message, before warily approaching the curled-up, pink-haired, pile of misery under the sinks. 

In all honesty, Megumi had not had a great life, but the feeling he got from seeing Yuuji in that almost catatonic state was something the alpha would do practically anything to never have to feel again. I mean, how could a person such as Yuuji; an airhead who would have his rare moments of cognitive thoughts at times, the idiot who Megumi and Kugisaki would have to physically hold back from retaliating against assholes who misplaced their anger at the shorter male. How in the world was that same Itadori Yuuji lying in front of Megumi, knees to his chest, without that iconic, and utterly ‘Yuuji’ look in his eyes? For the first time in a long time, Megumi Fushiguro felt scared. Admittedly, scared on behalf of his close friend, but scared nonetheless.

The taller boy didn’t know what to do; he felt completely useless, unable to reignite that spark in the other’s eyes. Everything in him was itching to grab ahold of the shorter male and never let go.

It was no secret that the two male students would get a bit frisky at times, but their bond was nothing but platonic. But right now Megumi couldn’t care less. It was… odd, to say the least. The taller of the two had had not-so-platonic thoughts about his friend before, but surely that was normal? Anyway, it had never been to this extent before. 

Fuck this. Seriously fuck this. So sick and fucking tired of this. Nothing but cussing, exclamations, and other foul language was going through the pink-haired student’s mind, as he was walking-.. Home? Not sure. Not like he could care less anyway. ‘Cause it’s not like any of it matters. Or, well, if he went home and ran into Kenjaku, that would be maybe, somehow, worse.

Having shoved his hands as far into his pockets as they would go, headphones blasting some semi-digestible rock song in his ears while kicking a rock in front of him as he walked, Yuuji felt like an angry teenager all over again.