Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Yuji didn’t lose his memory fighting a special-grade curse. Or by getting his ass absolutely handed to him in a sparring match with Maki. Not even by some freak accident involving a bus and vehicular manslaughter. Yuji’s had his head knocked around so, so, so many times and yet the incident which sent him into his own personal 50 First Dates starring Adam Sandler and budding starlet Drew Barrymore-type scenario was standing up too quickly underneath an open cabinet door.

To be fair, he does stand up very quickly. And those cabinet doors were high quality. Not that particle board bullshit. No, we’re talking mahogany or imported oak or something equally dense. Somehow even denser than Yuji’s skull. Which— once again— is saying something.

It happened fast. Yuji barely got the chance to think ‘ouchie’ before he was out. He didn’t even feel himself hit the ground.

“Idiot.”

Kugisaki frowns at Yuji from his bedside, elbows propped against the paper thin sheets. In the bland, stark white of the infirmary room Yuji seems to shine like the only source of color. Blood on the snow. Coffee on a page. His pink hair is almost neon against the sad pillow and his skin is still dark, sun kissed and glowing despite the fact he’s been unconscious for 48 hours. He really doesn’t belong in a sick bed. It just doesn’t fit Yuji at all. Aesthetically speaking.

Yeah, that part bothers her more than the fact she’s been without her friends for days.

“Insulting him won’t make him wake up any faster.” Shoko murmurs from the other side of the room. “But, don’t let that stop you.”

The black and white MRI scans make a wobbly noise as she clips them up besides Yuji’s chart. She smells like cigarettes and perfume. It mixes in the sterilized air to create the kind of ambiance to keep Kugisaki on edge. She wishes that Megumi were here. If her calling Yuji an ‘idiot’ doesn’t wake him up then maybe a disinterested sigh from Megumi would.

“Can’t you just use reverse curse technique to wake him up already?”

Shoko ignores her and continues staring at the scans. She has one hand propped on her hip while the other clicks her pen in an intermittent rhythm. The quiet has Kugisaki huffing in irritation before she drops her head against Yuji’s arm.

“Shit… That’s not good.”

Kugisaki whips her head back up to ask what she means, but is cut off as the door swings open. It crashes into the wall and with a wave of disappointment, Kugisaki knows it’s not Megumi. Instead, their sensei strides in with his arms wide open and shock white hair poking up obnoxiously from his blindfold.

“Good morning!”

“It’s 3 pm.” Shoko states as she pulls one of the scans back down.

“— I have come to check on my darling little student.”

Kugisaki leans back from the bed, arms crossing over her chest. For some reason it feels awkward to have someone else see her clinging to Yuji. Not that she was clinging. She really doesn’t care. That much.

“Well, he’s still just as useless as the last time you popped in.” Kugisaki’s attention drifts back to Yuji, to the serene soft edges of his profile. Her attention flickers back to Shoko, suppressing the urge to attack her for an explanation. Instead, she clears her throat and decides to get the answer to something else. “Have you heard anything from Megumi?”

Gojo dumps a couple of bags onto the counter. The fancy stiff paper kind with ribbons for handles and embossed logos on the front. He would never let a pesky student injury get in the way of his shopping. She almost finds it admirable.

“Yes, actually. That’s part of the reason I stopped by. He should be back sometime tonight.” Gojo steps over to the cot with his hands on his hips and leans over Yuji as if to inspect him. “Hmm. hm. hm. Not good. We gotta wake him up. Shoko, why haven’t you woke him up?”

Shoko lays him flat with an unamused stare. With one hand stuffed in the pocket of her lab coat, the other holds the scan out for them all to see. It just looks like a brain. The sheet divides it into three views. One from each side and one from above. Shoko taps the aerial view somewhere in the center, her french tips highlighting a tiny, tiny spot of black amidst the gray.

“I don’t know how he managed to do this with a fucking cabinet door, but the initial impact must of jostled things and caused an acute injury to the amygdala. Or it’s very possible this was a preexisting injury that was in the process of healing when he got concussed.” Shoko explains to the two who just stare back with vacant expressions. “Jesus— which means on top of a nasty concussion, he also damaged the part of his brain that deals with emotional memory.”

Kugisaki’s starts chewing her nail. “So what does that mean? You can fix it right?”

Shoko looks at the prone boy on the bed. More curse than boy, really. “Brain injuries are the most difficult. Blood, bone, sinew, that’s easy, I mean, easy for me. When we get into stuff like white matter and neurons… that’s tricky.”

She pushes the scan into Gojo’s hands and steps closer to Yuji. Neither of them say a word as her hand settles over Yuji’s forehead. One brow ticks downward just slightly as Shoko stares a hole into her patient.

“I can reduce the inflammation of the concussion and ease those symptoms, but the deeper problem is more of a wild card.” She pats Yuji’s head softly. “He might not remember some things.”

Gojo shrugs. “That’s fine. Just fix that concussion and wake him up before Megumi gets back. He’ll probably be grateful to have forgotten some things!”

Kugisaki glares and Shoko curls her lip in distaste.

“What? Silver lining, ladies.”

Shoko shakes her head and pulls up a stool. “Whatever. Just be quiet and let me work.”

It takes nearly fifteen minutes for Shoko to work her technique. Which doesn’t sound like very long, but being there in the room and watching as her face grows paler and the beads of sweat that collect on her brow, it feels like hours go by. Every so often, Yuji’s fingers will give a little twitch or his expression will squint just slightly. Kugisaki can barely hold herself back when she sees it. Even Gojo seems to straighten up at the sight. When Shoko finally pushes her stool back, she doesn’t waste a single second before pulling out a cigarette and lighting it with shaky hands.

Kugisaki and Gojo immediately crowd his bedside. She holds one of Yuji’s hands. Okay, more like clutches it in a death grip. There’s a swell of silence. The gathering build of anticipation bottled into a moment too small to contain it. Then, Kugisaki feels the hand held in her own give a gentle squeeze before Yuji’s eyes flutter open.

“Ack—” He squints immediately, blocking out the glare of florescent light from above with his one free hand as he pushes himself upright. “My head hurts like a bitch. Oh—“ His eyes comes into focus and he clamps his mouth shut as he realizes who is at his bedside. “sorry sensei! I mean, like a… um… anyways.” Yuji looks between them all sheepishly, “What’s going on guys?”

Kugisaki doesn’t wait another second before she launches herself at her friend. She laughs so that she doesn’t cry and squeezes her arms around his neck until Yuji coughs. That’s when Gojo leans in and hugs them both just as tightly so they’re all a giggling, giddy mess.

When they pull back, Kugisaki’s delight immediately shifts to all the unnecessary worry that she’s been subjected to in the last few days. Her glare becomes hot and sharp, immediately raising a fist in threat.

“You fucking idiot! Who goes into a fucking coma for hitting their head on a cabinet?”

Yuji falls back on his pillow, open palms raised in surrender. “Whoa! Hey! I didn’t do it on purpose!”

“You’re so damn lucky I can’t beat your ass right now.”

Kugisaki jerks her fist up menacingly to draw another fearful yelp from Yuji before Shoko clears her throat. The room immediately shifts back towards her, tempers dampened by a sense of trepidation over the fact they’re not quite in the clear.

“Let’s give him a little room.” Shoko takes a long draw from her cigarette and exhales a plume of smoke before continuing. “Do you remember your name?”

Yuji squints, like it might be a trick question. “Uh. Itadori Yuji?”

“Date of birth?”

“March 20th, 2003. Pisces gang represent.”

Gojo grins.

“Do you know where you are right now?”

Yuji blinks and glances around the room. He twists in the bed to stare out the window, then finally looks back at Shoko with a confident grin. “Japan. Wait— Tokyo. No, you probably want something more specific— Jujutsu High!”

“And the last thing you remember?”

At least Yuji has the decency to look embarrassed. He scratches the back of his head and looks down as he mutters, “I was getting ready to cook some food when I hit my head on the cabinet.”

Shoko’s lips twitch into a half smile as she takes another puff. “Looks like you’ve got all the important stuff down, kid. You might find a couple gaps in your memory going forward, but you’re a tough cookie. It will probably just be a matter of time and taking it easy before they come back.”

Gojo is the one to breathe a sigh of relief at that. “Perfect. That means nobody has to tell Megumi what happened.”

Yuji chuckles awkwardly before his lighthearted expression shifts into a vacant look. “Megumi… Is that a new student?”

The MRI scan slips from Gojo’s hands and warbles as it feathers to the ground. His brows shoot up over the top of his blindfold before he’s looking at an equally shell-shocked Kugisaki. There’s a couple drawn out moments of silence as Yuji looks between the both of them, eyes growing more frantic until he cracks.

“Oh god, don’t tell me I’ve forgotten my own girlfriend or something.” Yuji grabs his own head in distress. “Please, please tell me she’s tall with a big butt.”

“More like boyfriend.” Kugisaki scoffs before she can think better.

Gojo scratches his chin. “At least he’s got one of those traits.”

“Boyfriend?” Yuji drops his hands off his head and blinks helplessly at them all. “I have a boyfriend?”

The answer is no. It would be a very easy thing to clear up. Kugisaki knows that’s what any decent person would do. But then she looks at Gojo. One corner of his mouth keeps twitching, ghosting the most conspiratorially wicked smile she’s ever seen. She presses her lips together, hiding her own evil grin. There was something in Yuji’s voice that caught her off guard. Something… hopeful.

It would be a very innocent prank, really. With Megumi returning tonight it would be awfully short lived. Not to mention how hilarious that reunion would be. God, it would almost be a crime to reveal the truth so early. The universe has presented her with the premise and circumstances for a prank so astronomically perfect and who is she to deny destiny?

“Oh, Megumi is going to be crushed.” Kugisaki frowns, looking away from Yuji to exchange a look with Gojo. “To be the only one forgotten by your own boyfriend. That’s just… heart breaking, wouldn’t you agree, sensei?”

Gojo looks at the ground, shaking his head. To someone in Yuji’s circumstances, it probably appears as though he’s hiding tears or his own roller coaster of emotions from such a reveal. Kugisaki knows that the only thing Gojo is hiding is his own shit-eating grin.

“Oh, it’s going to destroy him.” Gojo peeks up just to catch the look of devastation on Yuji’s face. Kugisaki almost calls it off there. But, this is Yuji’s own fault for injuring himself. “He’s the type to hide it very well, Yuji. He’s been that way since he was just a boy.” Gojo gives a sigh so wistful it deserves an academy award. “That’s also why your relationship is so beautiful. You’re the only one he could be vulnerable around. Now with you not remembering him… he’ll probably go back to acting like the aloof little heartsick disaster he was before you got together.”

Oh that’s diabolical. Kugisaki nods along.

That’s when Shoko gives them both a disapproving look and gets to her feet. “I don’t want any part of this. I’m getting a drink so if anybody else decides to bang their head on furniture, they’re going to have to deal with it the old-fashioned way.”

As Shoko leaves the room, Yuji stares down at his hands in devastation. There’s a moment of quiet where Kugisaki and Gojo just watch him. It starts to feel cruel. Sure, it’s probably the rawest, most epic prank in the history of the world, but Kugisaki also knows Yuji. How much he hates to disappoint people. How deeply he cares.

Kugisaki opens her mouth to tell the truth just as Yuji whips his head up and beats her to the punch. “Can you show me a picture?”

This works too. Once Yuji sees a picture of Megumi it will start to click. He’ll realize that there’s no feelings or attraction there and start questioning their entire story. Better yet, it might just bring the memories back altogether.

Gojo is the one to flash his phone at Yuji. His home screen is already a picture of his favorite student. Megumi in his school uniform, glancing over his shoulder with a cutting stare of mild annoyance reserved only for Gojo. It’s not even a very flattering picture either. Somehow his hair looks worse than usual and the lighting isn’t great. Yuji holds the phone in his lap, staring down at it as Kugisaki exchanges another devious look with Gojo.

It’s quiet as Yuji stares. Kugisaki almost cracks a couple times. Gojo is somehow a little too good at keeping a straight face. It takes Yuji far, far too long to find something nice to say. Longer than it should, honestly. Kugisaki can’t imagine Yuji finding any guy attractive, but Megumi is still objectively good looking. It’s almost to the point where she’s getting offended on that grump’s behalf.

“Wow…” Yuji murmurs under his breath, eyes still on the screen. His voice is so quiet and filled with something that Kugisaki doesn’t recognize. She’s never heard Yuji sound so… soft. “He’s pretty.” Yuji says those words like a poem. Like a declaration wrapped into the only way he knows how to say it. “Really pretty.”

Kugisaki wants to accuse him of lying and expose the whole thing right there. Like, ‘ha! you just called your best friend who is not your boyfriend at all pretty! gotcha!’, but it feels so wrong. It would be easier to give Yuji another concussion at this point and start over. A small smile starts to etch it’s way onto Yuji’s lips and his eyes soften. Suddenly this prank isn’t funny anymore. It isn’t funny at all.

“Ha. Ha…” Gojo’s grin starts to shift more into a grimace. “You might want to hold off on calling him that.”

Yuji looks up, immediately confused. “Why? Did I not call him pretty?” He frowns, looking at the photo. “No, I probably just didn’t do it around you guys. I bet I was calling him pretty all day ev’ry day.” There’s another small smile on Yuji’s lips. As if he’s just thinking about calling Megumi pretty. Kugisaki almost gags. “Does he not like PDA?”

Gojo laughs nervously. “Um. Yeah. I would probably dial it back a little. On all of that.”

Yuji’s frown keeps deepening. “So I have a boyfriend who is this hot but I can’t call him pretty or lay one on him in public? What the hell…”

“I would probably not call him boyfriend either.” Kugisaki supplies, too horrified at the turn of events to remember that this is supposed to be funny.

She exchanges another look with Gojo. This time, it’s tense. Megumi is going to kill them. Which was already a granted, of course. But now, they’ve got Yuji down bad for a boyfriend which he doesn’t even have. She shoots Gojo a more pointed look. He’s the adult after all. He should be the one to fix the situation.

“Ah! Would you look at that!” Gojo snatches his phone back from Yuji as a little chime rings. “Looks like Megumi has arrived.”

“Really? I’ll come.” Yuji can’t hide his excitement. Not that he’s ever hidden anything. He starts to shuffle out of bed when he realizes he’s still in a hospital gown. “Shit. He can’t see me like this. Where’s my freaking hoodie?”

Kugisaki grabs the bundle of clothes off the counter and shoves them into Yuji’s chest. “You change, I’ll wait outside while Gojo grabs Megumi. And take it easy please. The cabinets are strictly off limits.”

Yuji salutes her and Kugisaki smiles back, strained. She snatches Gojo’s arm in her hand and yanks him out into the hall. With a slam that echoes, she whips right around to stare at Gojo, wide-eyed and guilty.

“We fucked up.”

“Correction. You fucked up. I was just going along with it.”

Kugisaki grits her teeth. “I don’t fucking think so. You encouraged it. And do you really think it’s gonna matter when Megumi finds out and Yuji gets crushed? You need to fix it.”

“Me?” Gojo sputters. He puts an offended hand to his chest. “I say we just let it unfold. Just think about it, Nobara, this could be the start to the romantic novel of Megumi’s dreams. I would know— I found a lot of romance novels in his room growing up. A lot.”

“Hilarious. But highly unlikely.”

“Is it?”

Kugisaki looks aside, storing that information in the back of her head for later while she faces the problem at hand. She rubs her chin in thought as she replays their friendship through a different lens. Megumi and Yuji are her two best friends. They share pretty much everything with her. Arguably too much. Or maybe that just applies to Yuji and whenever he has too much dairy. She tries to remember if there’s been a time where Yuji stares longingly at Megumi or if Megumi has ever tried to squeeze in closer when he thinks nobody’s looking. But her brain just comes up dry. If her idiot friends had been harboring secret feelings for the entirety of their friendship, then Kugisaki would know.

I mean, she would have to know. Right?

“Whatever!” She waves her hands around, dispelling her own self-doubt. “Let’s just do damage control. You go pick up Megumi and warn him about Yuji’s… misconceptions and I’ll break it to Yuji that he’s still a single loser.”

Gojo grins. “I would hate to be you right now.” And with that, he vanishes before she gets the chance to switch missions.

“Dick.” She mutters and faces down the door.

Kugisaki takes a deep breath, gathering herself, before knocking at the door to step inside. She failed to prepare herself properly for what was waiting inside. Though, there probably wasn’t a way to prepare for this. Yuji sitting on the edge of his bed, curled around his phone and giggling at blurry candids of Megumi on his screen.

Kugisaki nearly gags.

Yuji whips to look at her, then stands quickly. A second later, he stuffs his phone back in his pocket, cheeks pink. His throat clears loudly.

“So…” Yuji combs a self-conscious hand through his hair and does a little spin for his friend. Then he continues, words coming out quicker the more he speaks, “Do you think I should go freshen up some more before I see him? I’m just a little nervous. Okay— really nervous. It’s like meeting your soulmate but like, already knowing about it. High pressure. Not that I’m saying he’s my soulmate! Ha! That’s crazy… I mean, unless Megumi has said something about that. Do you think he’d consider us…”

Yuji trails off, staring at her imploringly. Kugisaki feels her mouth go dry.

“Consider you what.”

Yuji looks at the ground with a shy smile that could melt an ice cap. “Well…” He laughs a little nervously, finally meeting Kugisaki’s eyes so earnestly it makes her stomach sour. His voice lowers to a mumble, embarrassed but unable to stop himself from asking, “Would you say that we’re… in love?”

Kugisaki freezes. Oh. This prank isn’t funny anymore. It really, truly isn’t funny at all.

“Oh. Um.” Gojo please, for once in your life, do the one fucking thing you have to. “Maybe?”

Chapter Text

Sometimes, Megumi feels like a cup on the brink of spilling over. Nothing but the shape of water filled to the very brim, a single drop from breaking the convex of surface tension that rises ever so slightly over the edge. A lake in a bathtub. One plink away from bursting over the sides. From the clear vein that kisses crystal stemware before folding into the earth.

Most of the time, he can ignore it. Megumi has gotten very good at that. Not that there has ever been a choice. Either you learn to cope with the world of curses or it chokes you. He has seen so many people die. Experienced it a thousand different ways. A child in the corner of the room overhearing the hushed apologies as the news is delivered. He’s seen it first hand too. Never gently though. He’s never been witness to the kind of death that takes someone in old age; the death that comes when it’s supposed to. All he knows is the sound of blood when it hits the wall. Young death. Violent death. In the end, it’s probably much the same.

The worst part isn’t the nightmares, or the way scenes of red bleed into the back of his vision the moment his mind drifts. It’s the absence. The empty dorm room. The lapse in a conversation that would have once been filled. The phantom pain.

Megumi rubs at his eyes, trying to ease the ache of exhaustion that buzzes behind his vision. This line of thought isn’t helping either. His inner monologue gets a little dramatic when he’s tired.

He doesn’t like doing missions without Yuji or Kugisaki. It’s far too quiet. So easy to get wrapped up inside his own head. So much harder to push down everything that he’s been fighting to forget without Yuji’s voice yammering in the background.

Yuji.

Megumi sets his head against the backseat window and watches the streets of Tokyo pass by in stripes of neon. Red, blue, pink. The glass is cool against his temple and even with the occasional pothole Ijichi runs directly over, Megumi could probably fall asleep right here. Post-missions he always feels so heavy. Tired. The curse he dealt with wasn’t very strong in the end, but it was taxing in other ways. It haunted an abandoned music hall, warbling out demonic ballads from the darkest recesses of the facility. The song wasn’t human, but it was still familiar somehow. In the way all curses can be familiar. The darkest amalgamations of human emotion. This one sang of loss. Over and over again, Megumi saw the faces of those sorcerers. Those people. Yuji.

The still surface of his cup trembles. Megumi pulls out his phone and numbly searches for a distraction. Anything to get the image of Yuji with that dark, gaping hole in his chest out of his head.

There’s twenty-two unread messages. Megumi clicks on them quickly. Twenty are from Gojo and the other two are from Kugisaki. A picture of a spiky Aloe Vera plant in a windowsill captioned ‘found your twin’ and then underneath it, ‘be safe stupid-ass’. He sends a thumbs-up. Not bothering to click on Gojo’s messages, he clicks on Yuji’s chat instead.

the countryside is kind of pretty. I wish I brought my good camera. [image attached]

That one is from 3 days ago when Megumi first left.

why can’t curses ever be anywhere that’s not creepy as hell… [image attached]

He sent a photo of the decrepit music hall, overgrown with vines and holes poking through the roof. Two days ago.

Proof I’m alive. You better not have started watching housewives of Atlanta without me fucker. [image attached]

It’s a selfie with Ijichi in the background fussing through a first-aid kit. Meanwhile, Megumi’s face is sporting a nasty black eye, busted lip, and a bit of blood smeared to his forehead. Sent this morning.

It was kind of a dirty move, he’ll admit. To send Yuji pictures of him injured is obviously going to worry him but… he’s never gone so long without receiving a text back. Hell, he wasn’t even left on read. They never even delivered.

They never even delivered.

Megumi turns off his phone and clutches it in his hand. It’s fine. Yuji always answers when he thinks to. The problem is that he’s very easily distracted. He also loses his phone quite often. Yeah. Just got distracted and lost his phone. It’s fine.

He’s never lost it for this long though. And he never loses it when Megumi is on a mission.

Megumi pinches his nose and inhales sharply. It’s fine. Exhaustion feels like a metal rod pressing into the back of his eyes. He’s only a few minutes away. He’ll just see Yuji and Nobara to ease that voice in the back of his head and sleep for twelve hours.

Then, there a buzz in his hand and Megumi almost drops his phone in the rush to check. One eye twitches when he sees the sender. Gojo.

don’t worry !!!! He’s conscious now !!!

What. Megumi taps on the chat with Gojo he’s been ignoring and quickly scans through the onslaught of messages. It starts out with useless whining about the higher-ups and a whole retinue of minor inconveniences that Gojo has no one else to tell about. Then an image attached that has Megumi’s breath held hostage in his throat.

:( hit his head poor thing

It’s a slightly blurry picture of Yuji passed out cold on the hospital bed. His arms lay at his sides like a corpse. A roll of gauze is wrapped around his head with a spot of red blooming at the temple. On the other side of the bed, unaware of Gojo’s candids, Kugisaki holds one of his hands with a look he’s only seen on her once before.

Megumi still doesn’t breathe as he scrolls through another series of useless messages entailing Gojo’s day out shopping and the plans he has for catering when he gets back. The desire to bash his head in is only rivaled by the growing pit in his chest. Then finally, arriving on the last photo, Megumi can take a gulp of air.

Yuji is sitting up on the bed with that obnoxious smile. Despite somehow being blurrier than Gojo’s previous photos, Megumi can see the crinkles around his eyes, displacing his mirrored scars. He seems unaware of the camera and instead looking off to the side towards a blurrier object— oh, that must be Kugisaki’s fist.

“You feeling alright back there, Fushiguro?” Ijichi frowns at him in the rear view mirror as the car begins to slow outside an old familiar archway.

Megumi hadn’t realized that he was holding his racing heart and quickly shoves his hands into his lap. He clears his throat of any residual emotion and looks out the window. He nods, and finally responds to Gojo.

Just arrived. Meet me at entrance.

“Woof! Looks like somebody had a hard time—” Gojo grins from where he leans against the great red arch that leads into Jujutsu High. He looks like a dickhead with his hands stuffed into his pockets, slouching like some kind of delinquent rather than a 30-year old man-child. There’s a low whistle and hiss of sympathy as he catches sight of Megumi’s bruises.

“Where’s Itadori?” Megumi cuts him off without breaking his stride. His teacher falls in step besides him anyways.

“Relax, Megumi. He’s fine. First, there’s this tiny detail you should probably know—”

Megumi grits his teeth in an ever growing frustration. Despite the exhaustion he felt in the car, his body feels fevered. He can’t get the image out of his head. Yuji lying still. The blood. The sorrow in Kugisaki’s eyes. If he could just see him, then this tightening, suffocating knot in his chest might loosen. Megumi just needs to know he’s fine.

“Is he still in the sickbay?” Megumi asks even as he breaks into a stride just short of sprinting. He wants to run, but there’s still enough reason left in his head to know that’s embarrassing.

“Yes, but,” Gojo doesn’t bother keeping up with Megumi, continuing to stroll at his normal pace, “There is an eensy bitty problem I need to tell you about first.”

Megumi ignores him easily. There’s no doubt in his mind that Gojo probably wants to show him a sticky note with a stupid dick drawn on it or something equally asinine. He doesn’t have the patience for it. For any of this. Frankly, he’s not happy with Yuji either. No, actually, he’s pissed. What the hell is he even doing to get injured while being on campus? Where did Yuji get the nerve to worry him like this immediately after fighting a first-grade spirit?

The main hall towards the infirmary feels like it stretches forever. Like Megumi is running against time. If he doesn’t see Yuji this very moment then he’ll be late. And if he’s too late then. Then. He doesn’t know. It just feels like the world may end.

Gojo flags behind him at the end of the hall with a very apathetic, hands still stuffed in his pockets. “Noo, wait…”

He doesn’t. With a resounding slam that wasn’t entirely intentional, Megumi shoves open the infirmary door. He stands in its frame, breathing slightly harder as he looks into the room. On the bed sit Yuji and Kugisaki, cross-legged and surrounded by fancy bags of pastries and sweets. For a moment, they blink at him. Megumi blinks back. Yuji wipes crumbs off his mouth with the back of his hand.

Then, their eyes meet. The first thought is one of overwhelming relief. He’s fine. Megumi’s shoulder ease just slightly and the black, knotted pit in his chest begins to unravel. Then, the second thought. The way Yuji looks at him.

Something isn’t right.

“Megumi,” Yuji’s brows come together in concern, but that look on his face is still so strange. He can’t place how. “You’re hurt.”

Megumi makes some sort of strangled noise between an exhale and a huh? In the entire course of their friendship Yuji has never called him by his first name. They just got used to their last names maybe. A year in Megumi almost brought it up, but then he figured, why fix what isn’t broke. His stance falters just slightly and his shoulder knocks against the door.

“I’m fine.” He says after a beat of strange silence, straightening back up.

There’s a faint frown on Yuji’s face and yet his gaze drifts down. As if checking him out. Maybe he’s looking for signs of other injuries but there’s just something in the way he does it. It’s indulgent; curious. As if Megumi looks like a different person. Huh, he didn’t think his injuries were that bad.

“What happened?” Kugisaki speaks up for the first time since he entered that impromptu staring contest. There’s something weird about her too. Megumi narrows his eyes just slightly.

“I mean, first-grade curse happened. I should be asking what the hell happened to…” He side-eyes Yuji who still hasn’t stopped staring. It’s making his skin itch. “Itadori.”

Yuji blinks in surprise, but brushes it off. “Oh uh,” He finally breaks his stare to look aside sheepishly. “Just hit my head. No further details needed—”

“—Wait.” Kugisaki holds a hand up, gaze hard as their sensei eases into frame behind Megumi. “You told him, right? As in told him everything?”

Gojo plops down on Shoko’s stool and wheels it halfway across the room. Then, with a a full 360 degree spin, he plants his heels down an looks at Megumi.

“So, Yuji hit his head on a cabinet and busted his amy-dolie.”

“Amidgola.” Kugisaki corrects incorrectly.

Megumi’s face furrows, both in equal parts concern and irritation. “Amygdala?”

“Yeah. Whatever.” Gojo waves him off. “Long story short: he’s got memory loss and, ah, well. How do I say this…”

There’s a pause as Gojo has a very rare ‘think before you speak’ moment. Instead of finding words, he ends up looking down and scuffing at the floor with a muted squeaking sound. Megumi shifts his attention to Kugisaki with growing apprehension as she clears her throat and shifts her gaze away from the other third-year. Only Yuji is the one to meet his eyes.

“I’m sorry, Megumi, I…” Yuji looks so guilty that he almost guesses the words before he even speaks them. “I don’t know who you are.”

All of their eyes fall to him. Megumi can feel the weight. The way they anticipate a reaction. He’s not sure what they want to see. Something normal like disappointment? Should he be upset? It takes Megumi a few moments before he even thinks to ask himself that. How does he feel?

For a moment, he just stares at Yuji and hopes in vain for that cheesy grin to pop up with a ‘just kidding!’ and maybe for him to poke a little fun at how good they got him. Instead, Yuji can barely hold his gaze. He looks guilty. As if all at once, he can’t stand to look at Megumi but he can’t look away either.

The answer drops into his cup and folds like ink into the murk of everything else. To know that, he would have to dump it all out. So instead, all he does is nod.

“I see.”

Yuji’s eyes go round as he stares unblinkingly at Megumi. Under his breath, he mumbles, “So cool…”

“Right… um.” Kugisaki gets off the bed, looking between them apprehensively. “I need to discuss something with Gojo-sensei really quickly. Can you watch him for a second, Megumi? Maybe, uh, spark some memories or something?”

Megumi raises an eyebrow as she and Gojo filter out the door. He looks back to Yuji. “Watch you? Do you plan on opening any more cabinets?”

“Ha. Ha. Hilarious.” Yuji pouts a little as Megumi takes a seat on the chair besides the bed frame. He fidgets with the wrapper of something bright red and processed. Little restless twitching that give away his nerves so easily.

Still, his eyes follow Megumi’s every move. That in itself isn’t too surprising. There must be something familiar. Other parts of Yuji’s brain that know him. There’s heavy tug somewhere in the pit of Megumi’s stomach at the thought. He tries to decide whether it’s hope or dismay. In the end, it just feels like another slice of unknown on top of a mounting pile of shit to make his day worse.

“Have you forgotten anything else?” Megumi asks for two reasons. As an altruistic friend who worries for the pieces of Yuji’s past he may not get back. Then also for his own selfish hope that something else was lost. That he wasn’t the only thing discarded.

Distantly, he can hear muffled shouting through the wall as Yuji scrunches his face in concentration. After a couple second of looking mildly constipated, Yuji sighs in defeat and meets Megumi’s gaze with padded guilt as soft as it is cutting.

“I’m not sure. It’s hard to remember something that’s like, not there. You know?” Yuji watches Megumi’s hands as he flicks at a lychee flavored hard candy.

“I get it.”

“Shoko says that the part of my brain that was damaged deals with emotional memory. So… It makes sense, doesn’t it?” Yuji’s speaks differently. Not like they’re strangers, or acquaintances, but almost like he’s nervous. Megumi looks up just as Yuji’s hand covers his own.

It’s warm. His palm is rough. Calloused at the edges. Megumi is too stunned to move as that hand wraps around his own. Clumsy. Awkward. Tender.

“Since I feel differently about you than everyone else… Maybe that’s why.” Yuji swallows. “What we have is different, isn’t it?”

Megumi would love to form a single thought, but alas, his brain seems to have abandoned him at the very moment he needs it most. Instead of cognitive function, all he can think of is the feeling of their fingers interlocking. The brush of skin. More than anything, he is transfixed but the alien look in Yuji’s eyes.

What the actual hell.

He stares down at their hands like his gaze might get Yuji to pull away and allow him to think. Has he ever done this before? No, right? Megumi would remember. But, apparently Yuji wouldn’t. Maybe this is some side effect. A way for Yuji to jog his own memory. With that in mind, Megumi somehow doesn’t break the lock of their fingers intertwined. As much as the few working pieces of his brain beg him to.

“Yeah.” Megumi answers tightly, unable to hold his gaze so he looks aside. “I guess you could say that.”

Yuji laughs and heat starts flushing Megumi’s face. He’s blushing. He couldn’t even begin to guess why.

“I guess, on the bright side,” Yuji gives his hand a squeeze that Megumi refuses to return. “I get to know you all over again. Until I remember, that is. Maybe if we uh… do some of the things we used to that might, um,” He clears his throat awkwardly as Megumi hits him with a flat stare. “It might speed up the process.”

“I mean, I’m pretty tired but usually we watch shitty reality TV.”

At his answer, Yuji pouts very faintly and looks down at their hands. He does a weird thing with his thumb, poking it at Megumi’s knuckle. “Just watching shows?”

“I mean, we uh…” Megumi swallows as he observes the contrast between their fingers. There’s a speckling a freckles on the back of Yuji’s hand he never noticed before, subtle against his dark skin. The observation startles him just a little. He’s never really paid attention to somebody’s freckles before. “Play games too?”

Megumi jerks his hand back to pretend to check his phone. There’s no notifications, of course, but he taps on nothing a couple times before relocating his hands in his lap. Out of Yuji’s reach.

“Oh sick. I love games.”

“I know. Your favorite is Rayman fucking Rabbids. You have horrible taste.”

Yuji laughs again. The same laugh that it’s always been. Where his head tilts back just a little and he smacks or grabs the person closest to him. The kind of laugh that draws people in. Megumi only meant a quick glance, but Yuji was already staring. And then, well, at that point it was hard to look away without making it obvious.

“It’s kind of unfair that you know so much about me and I feel like we just met.” Yuji smiles lightly, as if playing it off as a joke, but Megumi knows him too well. The smile that speaks his words doesn’t reach the eyes. “What’s your favorite game?”

Suddenly, it feels real. Megumi stares and stares at his closest friend’s face and can’t shake the feeling of someone else staring back. It’s him. It’s Yuji from that incessant drumming of his fingers on every surface to the corner of his mouth that lifts when he smiles just a little higher than the other. Yet, the way Yuji looks at him is strange. No. Like, he is strange. Because to him, that’s what they are. Strangers.

For once in his life, Megumi wishes that he could name this feeling. If only to find a way to banish it from his body forever. It’s gaping, hollow like loss but there’s no finality to it. Instead, it is a limbo between simple injury and death. There’s a part of Yuji that has been taken away from him. Pieces of his friend that he may never get back.

“I… I don’t have a favorite. I should get back to my room.” Megumi looks at the pillow over Yuji’s shoulder rather than directly at him. “We’ll talk more tomorrow.”

As Megumi stands, Yuji is quick to scramble to his feet. “Wait— where’s your room? What if I need to talk to you before tomorrow?”

Megumi keeps himself from wincing at that question, only barely. His answer comes through gritted teeth. “It’s… right next to yours. Can’t miss it.”

“Then take me to it.”

“Have you been discharged?”

“This isn’t an actual hospital, Megumi. My doctor is currently getting shitfaced.”

There’s his name again. Megumi turns his back to Yuji as a whole new series of knots twist and tangle up in his chest. His own personal hydra. It seems every time he finally untangles a feeling, three more tie themselves in its place and they’re all more confusing than the last.

“Fine. I’m going straight to bed though.”

“Awesome!” Yuji jostles into his side as Megumi shoves open the door.

In the center of the hall, Gojo and Kugisaki stand in varying positions of suspicion. Kugisaki taps a thoughtful forefinger to her bottom lip as she pretends to read the sign beside the hospital room door. Meanwhile Gojo slouches dramatically against the wall and stares up at the ceiling.

“Were you guys listening in on us?”

Immediately, Kugisaki vehemently denies the allegation in varying high pitches of ‘what?’ ‘No!’ ‘of course not!’ while Gojo maintains a commendable poker face and shrugs. Megumi realizes that he doesn’t even care if they were.

“Right. Is Itadori okay to go back to his room now or should he wait for Shoko?” Megumi asks as the other boy gives a betrayed gasp at not being immediately led to his room.

Gojo waves him off. “It’s fine. Just no slumber parties. You both should get some rest.”

Megumi blinks, unamused. “Why would Itadori want to have slumber party with someone he doesn’t even know?”

“Yeah!” Yuji shouts, looking up a little at Megumi, before meeting Gojo’s blank expression with a very convincing laugh that tinges on nervous. “That’s crazy, sensei. We’re totally not gonna do that.”

Megumi’s brow furrows just barely as he looks at Yuji, confused. “Yeah. We’re not.”

“Yeah,” Yuji holds a hand up in front of his eyes so Gojo and Kugisaki can’t see him wink. “We totally are not.”

Megumi struggles to find words to navigate through his own confusion. Thankfully, Kugisaki speaks so he doesn’t have to. “Uh, are we sure Itadori should be going off in this state… alone?”

When she asks, her gaze is leveled and pointed directly at Gojo. A strong emphasis the final word. Megumi reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose as his patience dangles by a thread. Why is everyone acting so fucking weird?

“It’s fine. He’s not alone. I’ll be next door if he needs anything. Now, I’m gonna go and get some actual sleep if you’re all done with whatever this is.” Megumi crosses his arms over his chest as he looks between everyone. Maybe they take pity because his face is still swollen, because when he finally starts walking, there are no protests.

Yuji falls in step besides him. Their footsteps are hollow on floorboards that lead to the pavilion outside. The air is misty, sharp with the smell of cypress and cedar from the forests that shroud them from the outside world. As they pass the main shoji doors, an occasional raindrop plinks onto the walkways, staining the wood a deeper earthen brown. In silence, they cross the bridge that leads towards the third-year dormitories as a quiet stream slithers beneath them, tinkling like a bell.

Megumi is struck between wanting the silence to last forever and waiting like a dog for Yuji to say a single word. Something about hating the rain. Missing the sunshine. The same thing he always says during monsoon season.

“It’s so peaceful.”

Megumi whips his head to look at his friend. A rare observation. Instead of meeting his eyes like he has so often with all the staring, Yuji has lagged behind to look out at the lotus pond. A bull frog hiding somewhere amidst the reeds gives a deep bellow. Raindrops send concentric ripples through the mossy water. But Megumi just looks at him. The way Yuji’s shoulders ease and his fingertips graze the bridge’s railing, as if asking to linger. He’s changed so much through the years they’ve known each other. The strength of his nose and the faded scars on his freckled skin. He’s grown into himself, Megumi thinks. All those awkward limbs and the smile that out crowded every other feature. Now Yuji fits himself just right. A little too right.

Maybe it’s just knowing that Yuji has forgotten that’s making Megumi think about it. Is there anything about him that has changed from the first time they met? Well, yes—physically— of course. Megumi has keep his height advantage and them some. He’s broad and lean in a way that makes Kugisaki sneer abercrombie-looking-ass every time they share a locker room. But what Megumi really wonders is if Yuji’s thoughts have changed. Did he see Megumi today for the first time and think… no. He won’t even let himself go down that road. Not again.

“Your bandage is getting wet.” Megumi says, although his eyes trace a bead of rain that glides down the ledge of Yuji’s cheekbone to his chin instead.

Yuji shifts his attention back to Megumi. Those big brown eyes seem even more colossal up close. They’re that deep, dark brown that almost look black in the right light. In the hazy, mist gray light Megumi can see his pupils swallowing up everything else as his gaze glides to every part of Megumi’s face. He feels almost like an animal. A strange, pathetic creature being observed.

“Your hair’s wet.” Yuji states, still staring.

Megumi raises one eyebrow. Strange to state the obvious. He brushes a strand away from his own eyes, attention drifting aside.

“Yeah, well, you are kind of making us stand around in the rain.” Megumi doesn’t risk glancing at Yuji again, for fear of catching more of that strange look in his eyes. He doesn’t like it. The confusion of it. The way he feels like he’s next to a stranger. So instead, he takes Yuji’s shoulder and pulls him along once more. “I’m not going to get a cold for you.”

Yuji knocks back into his side at the touch, flashing him a grin. “At least now you don’t have to shower.”

They walk back to the dorms like that. Yuji brushing their shoulders together and bumping against him the entire way. It’s not unlike him, though. Megumi is used to the lack of personal space. Sometimes he doesn’t even mind it. But, this is closer. Closer than they should be. Megumi desperately needs to think.

When they walk down the hallway towards their rooms, their footsteps are accompanied by the dripping water from their hair and the opening act of a downpour playing against the roof. Low, yellow lanterns wisp to life at their entry. It makes the angles of Yuji’s face more dramatic. As if he could be the lead in a romantic drama. Megumi tries not to look at him at all.

“So, I was thinking maybe I could come in and we could hang and maybe—”

Megumi shakes his head, immediately reaching for his door. “Not tonight. Tired.”

“Oh yeah… the mission. You should rest. Those bruises are pretty fresh.”

Megumi turns the knob. He’s so close to solitude. Right on the brink of sleeping for a full day and then spending every waking minute overthinking his relationship to Yuji and whether he ever meant anything at all. But he hesitates. Of course he hesitates.

“Tomorrow.” Megumi murmurs, staring at his doorknob halfway turned. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Okay?”

“Okay.” There’s a smile in Yuji’s voice.

Megumi pushes his door open only to have a hand close around his arm. Startled, he looks back only to find Yuji much closer than before. The toes of their shoes nudge, and Yuji watches him with every ounce of feeling Megumi could never dissect in himself. So he won’t even attempt it now. The only thing he can recognize without trying is the guilt in Yuji’s soft, soft eyes.

“I am sorry, you know.” His voice is quiet, flickering at the same cadence as the lantern’s flame. His jaw tightens, before he continues. “You don’t deserve this, but if it helps, I, um… I still feel like I know you. Like, every part of me but my brain knows you. Does that make sense?” Megumi is frozen still as Yuji keeps going, “And if you’re scared that maybe I don’t feel the same anymore, I just want to say that I do. At least, I’m pretty sure I do.” He tries for a sheepish smile. “I feel like I could be cut up into little pieces and put in like a hundred different bodies in some weird science experiment and then there’d be like a ton of little freaks out there who are also obsessed with you because the piece of me infected them with Megumi-disease or something.”

Megumi realizes his mouth has been agape the whole time he was listening to that insane ramble and promptly shuts it. All he can do is stare in abject horror as Yuji blinks at him with those big, empty, hopeful eyes.

“I-- uh... okay?” He feels nauseous actually. Like the cringe might make him genuinely throw up. They wouldn’t use lines like that in a c-list rom-com let along to say to your best friend. Yuji has actually fucking lost his mind. “Go to bed, Itadori. Jesus Christ.”

Megumi backs into his room and shuts the door before he has to take another second of that. His heart thunders but it’s easy to ignore against the backdrop of rainfall and the sound of Yuji’s laugh ringing from the hall.

“Can’t you at least call me Yuji?”

Megumi grabs his heartbeat through his own chest, stepping to the center of his room so Yuji can’t see his shadow under the door. There’s something so wrong here. Something different, strange. The fact he thinks about it. Yuji. He feels the weight of his name on the tip of his tongue.

His stomach twists into an ugly knot but then so much worse. A light, fluttering feeling. Butterflies. No. Megumi thought he was done with this.

He thought he was finally over Yuji.

“Go to bed!”

Chapter Text

The rain carried on through the night. Trickling off the drain pipes into beds of smoothed stones with the ferocity of a river stream come springtime. When the sun finally went about ascending, its presence was only made known by the muted light filtered through a veil of slate-gray downpour. Yuji was awake to watch it slip through the shutters and stain the floor with morning.

The only real sleep Yuji got was in the blinking of his eyes in between staring contests with his ceiling. Despite the concussion, being unconscious for forty-eight hours made it difficult to fall back asleep (Or maybe that’s just what Yuji tells himself to feel less pathetic). The real reason is right next door. Yeah, that ‘reason’ is probably sleeping really good right now.

Every time Yuji began to feel his mind drift towards dreaming, he would be jerked right back by the look on Megumi’s face. I’m sorry. He can still feel the weight of Megumi’s eyes. The way the light dimmed. I don’t know who you are.

“Ugh—” Yuji digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, trying to push that wretched image out of his mind. What kills him most is how subtle it was. Maybe even Kugisaki didn’t catch it. Megumi’s eyes grew sad despite how no other feature of his face changed in the slightest. He can’t help but wonder what else he would have noticed if he was the version of Yuji that knows Megumi.

The version of himself that remembers every moment they’ve had together. The first day they met. The laughs, the inside jokes, and the blooming of something more. He’d cut a limb off to remember their first kiss. He’d cut off multiple limbs just to know if they’ve ever done… other stuff.

Yuji would give just about anything to know. He wants to know what’s okay and what crosses the line. All the silent boundaries drawn through years of knowing someone. The intrinsic understanding. Maybe it would be easier if Megumi was more like Nobara— who has no problem whatsoever saying exactly what she wants. Megumi is far more complicated, far less talkative. It’s undeniably very cool, Yuji has to admit, but at the same time, incredibly frustrating.

“I feel like you’re mad at me. Which I totally understand, by the way. I just want to talk about us. What exactly are we? Despite everything, I really just want you to treat me like… well, your boyfriend.”

Yuji stares at his lone, pathetic self in the mirror above his bathroom sink. This is stupid. He shakes his head and squeezes a little too much mint green paste on his toothbrush. Maybe if he knew a single damn thing about Megumi, then he could actually broach the subject with him. Would direct confrontation be best? Would that upset him? Or maybe he just has to be patient for once in his life and let Megumi come to him.

That option sounds like torture.

When Yuji gets dressed and steps into the hall, he lingers outside Megumi’s door. His fingers curl into a loose fist and raise to knock, before his arm drops. The bruises on Megumi’s face flash through his mind. Those dark, dark circles beneath his eyes.

He’s tired. I’ll let him sleep.

Yuji keeps walking, though it feels like brushing his hair the wrong way. There’s this quick tempo tick in his chest that beats like a live bomb. Yuji just wants to talk to him. To see him. To blabber and gush all of his tangled thoughts for Megumi like a pathologist would spill his guts out to determine the cause of death. But somehow, Yuji resists.

Maybe he’ll surprise Megumi later with his favorite treat. An excuse to see him and make Megumi happy all at once. Then, with a pang, Yuji realizes he doesn’t know what he even likes.

He needs to talk to someone.

“Kugisaki! Kugisaki!” Yuji bangs on the door to the girls’ common room, a small walk (or sprint in his case) from his own. “Kugisaki!”

The door whips open to reveal someone else entirely. Black hair cut short and choppy with dark, dark green eyes that glare at him through thin glasses, Maki scowls at him with her arms crossed over her chest. Yuji blinks. Then, a grin splits his face.

“Maki! What are you doing here?”

There’s a short sigh as if resigning herself to being bothered for the rest of the morning before she opens the door the rest of the way and allows Yuji in. “Jujutsu High isn’t just a school, remember. It’s a base for sorcerers. I’m just dropping in.”

Yuji strides in and gives her a hug that only lasts long enough to avoid getting smacked. “And you decided to see Kugisaki first? That’s messed up. She’s probably still sleeping anyway.”

“I got here last night.”

Yuji goes to busy himself at the bright pink Keurig on the counter. He puts in a hot chocolate pod. “Geez, so you’ve just been waiting for her to wake up all this time?”

“Something like that.”

The roasted smell of powdered chocolate fills the common room as Yuji watches the mix dribble into a cat-shaped mug. He’s always felt bad that Nobara has to be all alone on the girls’ side of the college. It’s a good thing Maki still stops by to visit. To relate with girl stuff. Like periods and literature or whatever else girls talk about.

Maki flops back on the couch and starts flicking through channels before piping up, “Oi, watch out Itadori, there’s a cabinet above you.”

Yuji pauses as he reaches for his mug. His eyes briefly close, giving a long, despondent groan. “Is anybody ever gonna let that go?”

Maki grins just as a pair of footsteps come in from down the hall. Nobara has somehow managed to make sleepwear a fashion statement. From her fluffy bunny slippers whose ears flop with every step, up to the pinstriped pastel pajama set, while for some reason still sporting a full face of no-makeup-makeup. She looks weirdly cute. Like, cuter than Yuji has ever seen her this early in the morning. It’s suspicious.

“What the hell are you doing in here?” Nobara curls her lip up as she takes the mug that he has made. “Maki— why did you let him in? We’re busy.”

“Hey, my cocoa—!”

Maki shrugs. “He was screaming a lot. I felt a little bad when I saw that ugly bump on his head.”

Yuji frowns and holds a self-conscious hand to said bump. “It’s not that bad.”

Kugisaki presses her lips together as she eyes his forehead. “Right… anyways.” She takes a sip of her stolen hot chocolate and sits on the couch very close to Maki. Clearly just to leave a space for Yuji. Aww. That’s sweet. “What do you want? It’s our day off.”

Perhaps sulking a little, Yuji follows her to the couch and plops down. “I need to talk to you about Megumi.”

At the mention of his name spoken so freely, Maki’s eyebrow arches. Nobara makes a point not to look at her. “Okay. Yeah. Sure. What about?”

Yuji sighs and looks down at his feet. When he stood outside Megumi’s door, it felt like his whole body was full of words. Full of promises and declarations and questions. If he imagines speaking to Megumi, they seem to well up inside of him, bubbling and frothing with the need to burst out. But in front of them? His head whistles with the sway of a lone wind across an empty plain.

“Well, um… What’s his favorite thing to eat?”

Nobara blinks. There’s this look on her face that Maki mirrors. Just pure what the hell are you even talking about? Yuji bites the inside of his cheek and looks down at his hands.

“Wow. So you really don’t remember him.” Maki chuckles, shaking her head.

Nobara elbows her. “It’s not funny.”

“I don’t think it’s funny.” Maki appeases, but Yuji catches her cracking out of the corner of his eye.

“Um, I actually don’t really know what his favorite food is. That was kind of… your thing.” Nobara says sheepishly, “But he doesn’t like sweet foods. He drinks black coffee. God, he’s been drinking that since we were fifteen. Disgusting.”

Yuji finds himself smiling. Despite Maki finding his situation laughable, and the small fact Yuji doesn’t remember his boyfriend’s favorite meal, he smiles because that just… it just seems so much like Megumi. Black coffee. No sweets. His stomach twists, but not in a totally unpleasant way.

“Why is he making that face?” Maki whispers and receives another light ribbing.

“I just think it’s cute.” Yuji sighs fondly, reaching for Nobara’s mug to take a sip. “He’s cute.”

There’s a beat of dead silence.

“Oh, you weren’t kidding—”

“—Maki.”

Yuji looks over to find Nobara shooting the other girl a sharp look, which is challenged with another flat stare. A contest. He shifts in his seat uncomfortably.

“Um, guys. I do need help please.”

Maki sighs heartily, leaning back against the couch with her toned arms stretching along the back, indirectly over Nobara’s shoulders. “Sure. Shoot.”

“I don’t know how to approach him.” Yuji frowns. “It’s like everything in me is just screaming go! go! go! Like, go what? I want to, like, maul his face off and act like actual boyfriends but…”

His brows steeple together. He remembers how his heart picked up when he held Megumi’s hand. Then, the way it plummeted at the look on his face. How Megumi took the first chance he had to pull away. The shock and discomfort. It makes sense, Yuji concedes, to be hurt by being forgotten. He only wishes Megumi knew how badly he wants to remember.

“I think he’s upset.” Yuji grabs his head, stomach dropping as another horrible possibility crops up. “Do you think he’s going to break up with me?”

After a couple moments of awkward silence, Yuji peeks out between his fingers to find them both staring at him with strained looks on their faces. His heart starts pounding.

“Oh god— you do think he’s gonna break up with me!”

“No! No!” Nobara shoves her mug into Maki’s hands to pat Yuji’s shoulders stiffly. “He’s not gonna break up with you! Um, uh— Tell him why Maki!”

Maki sends her a bug-eyed stare, before diverting her gaze to the glimpses of hope in Yuji’s tormented face. She clears her throat, gritting her teeth in an attempt for a civilized smile. “He likes you… too much.”

“Yes!” Nobara agrees. “He likes you too much to break up with you! And Maki would know, she’s his cousin.”

“Second cousin.”

“Same thing.”

Yuji breathes a sigh of relief and slumps back against the couch. “Good.” He knocks his head back, looking up at the ceiling. “You know, when I first woke up and found out I had a boyfriend I thought it was awesome. Like, can you imagine everything feeling normal and then as a bonus, you get handed a hot dude and told you’re dating him? It was sick. Then, like, meeting Megumi… it was so confusing. Suddenly, not sick. Or awesome. He just looked so sad—”

“—he looked fine to me,” Nobara mutters.

Yuji snaps his head back up to look at her. He squints, trying to deduce whether or not she’s joking. Could she really not tell? I mean, she’s known Megumi for as long as he has, and even with no memory, Yuji knew. There was hurt in his eyes.

“He wasn’t,” Yuji says, voice flat. “I… I need to remember him.”

Both Maki and Nobara frown, so Yuji turns his face away. It’s hard to put it into words they’ll understand. Yuji has lost someone important to him. Someone closer than a friend. Closer than anyone else. It pangs in his body like an organ has been cut out. Something unseen, unnoticed but that aches and aches like a space unfilled. It’s like mourning for a past you never had. Except, Megumi knows exactly what they had. And he’s mourning that all alone.

“Maybe you need to face the possibility that you might not remember.” if Maki notices the way Yuji flinches when she suggests that, she doesn’t mention it. “You should talk to him about it. All of it.” There’s a pause as Maki glances at Nobara before continuing. “There’s probably some… miscommunication going on.”

Yuji bites his thumbnail, thinking hard. “Yeah, yeah. Talk to him. You’re right.”

“Or!” Nobara cuts in, leaning in front of Maki to grab Yuji’s attention instead. “You just need to do something familiar to jog your memory. You should at least try to recreate a normal day with Megumi before you give up. If you remember it might clear a lot of things up…”

A day with Megumi… A whole day of dates and reigniting the lost love between them. Yuji finds himself grinning at nothing more than the thought alone.

Yuji straightens up abruptly. “That’s genius, Kugisaki!”

“Well, what do you expect?” Nobara flicks her hair with a self-satisfied smirk. Maki only shakes her head.

Yuji stands up off the couch and begins strolling back and forth across the carpet. It’s easy to push Maki’s remark out of his head as he considers an alternative route. Just remember. It makes perfect sense. Patch and sew all those years lost together with whiffs of nostalgia and maybe even a well-timed kiss. The kiss might just do it, he decides. It’ll be like a goddamn movie.

“So, what do we usually do together?” Yuji looks between the two girls, Nobara now tucked underneath Maki’s arm. They’re closer friends than he realized. “I need an itinerary like right now immediately.”

Nobara scratches her chin. “I don’t know. I don’t really pay attention to what you guys waste your time with. Megumi and I have our binge nights and that’s the only time I really hear about your daily dates. I don’t really pay that much attention though.”

Yuji groans and paces a little more aggressively. “Can you try to remember?”

“Fine, ugh… you guys do spar a lot. Now that Megumi’s bulked up with his Abercrombie model-looking ass, you’re more evenly matched. After class, we’ll either all hang out and get dinner or you guys will slink back to your dorms together. If you wanna know more then you might have to ask Megumi yourself.”

Yuji gives a curt nod at each slice of information. Sparring, dinner, and hanging out. That he can do. “What about on a day like today? Where there’s no class?”

Nobara scratches her head, face scrunching in thought. “We’ll usually all go into the city together. Or if I’m busy you two will just go. I don’t know what you do now but—” Her eyes shift over to him as if trying to assess him. “You used to go to this movie theater together like every single week. They exclusively show awful shit but you both liked that for some reason I cannot comprehend. This was like a year ago, but one week you both just stopped going and never said anything about it.”

“Oh. Weird.” Yuji looks aside, as his head throbs.

He takes a step, then falters. His hand braces on the counter as a sharp pang of pain drums against the inside of his skull. Suddenly, he can see it.

On a dark backstreet, a broad sign outlined in yellow light bulbs that flash around the current screening. There was never a line. The snacks weren’t good but they were cheap. Yuji remembers the taste of butter and the popcorn kernel stuck in between his teeth. Someone is next to him— someone with a quiet laugh. It makes him start laughing too. Their laughter mixes and melds together over a background symphony of overplayed sound effects, cheesy horror screams, and the complaints of other watchers.

“Unmei Garden Cinema.”

Nobara’s eyes shoot wide open. “Yes— wait. Did you already know that or—”

Yuji looks over at her, grinning. “I remembered it. We’d go on dates there. I think.” He nods to himself. “I think I know exactly what we’re gonna do today.”

Turns out Megumi was not ready for operation: retrieve Yuji’s memories through a series of adorable dates. Megumi didn’t leave his room at all. Yuji sent him a few texts too, all delivered but unread. Most of the day he spent just loitering in the hall outside their rooms, waiting to catch Megumi on his way to the shower or grabbing food. To absolutely no avail.

Around 6 pm, Gojo strode through holding a plastic bag stacked with takeout. With a wink in Yuji’s direction, he slid a couple of Styrofoam containers through the crack in Megumi’s door before handing the rest to Yuji.

“Waiting for someone?” Gojo sounds like he’s teasing him, but Yuji just nods. There’s no point in denying it.

He peeks into the takeout container to find a heap of perfectly greasy noodles. His stomach grumbles and he debates just grabbing a bite with his fingers.

“He’s not very social after missions. Or in general, if we’re being honest.” Gojo sighs, pulling a candy from his pocket to unwrap.

“And I was cool with that? I mean… I just let him be on his own?” Yuji asks, a silent plea for permission to start knocking on Megumi’s door. For Gojo to say, of course not! You were always busting in his room! or any equivalent that means he gets to see Megumi.

Instead, Gojo just shrugs and pops the candy in his mouth. “What do you think you would do, Itadori?”

Yuji stares across the narrow hall. The looming doorway with no light behind the borders. He knows what he wants to do. Yuji doesn’t want to think. Every single part of his body, from his feet to his brain wants to storm right in and demand attention. Yet, that doesn’t feel like the right answer. That feels like the answer he wants. Maybe there’s a piece of him that thinks he deserves to suffer just a little. He forgot Megumi and so being deprived of his company is simply justice.

Gojo pats his head and walks away.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea for you to be doing this with a concussion?” Megumi asks from the other side of the sparring mat.

Yuji grins. “You sound scared, Megs. A little birdie told me I’m the reigning king of our matches.”

At that, Megumi just quirks one perfect eyebrow.

Yuji woke up— or rather, was already awake because sleep still hadn’t come easy— to the best text message in the world. There was Megumi’s dog icon in his inbox, agreeing to breakfast with him tomorrow morning. At last, his boyfriend-drought has ended. Let the rains of remembrance fall down on his perfect, perfect date-filled day. Oh hell yeah.

Breakfast was mostly uneventful. Yuji finds it very hard to take his eyes off Megumi. Which is fine, right? They’re dating after all. He only hopes it isn’t so obvious as to why. Yuji tries to soak in every single detail he can. The way Megumi takes his eggs; scrambled with a dash of pepper and a tablespoon of milk to keep them fluffy, two slices of whole wheat toast, and, of course, a mug of black coffee. He spends so much mental energy repeating it in his head and smiling at the Megumi-ness of it all that he doesn’t notice Megumi grabbing his breakfast as well. A cup of orange juice to pair with a bowl of sugary, nutrition-less cereal. The one with the tiger on the box. His favorite.

Yuji didn’t expect it. It was just like second nature. Megumi knew which bowl to put it in and the perfect ratio of cereal to milk. It froze him for a moment. An epiphany. He wanted to kiss Megumi right there. He wanted to grab his face and kiss him so hard all over that the shape of his mouth would stick to his skin for days. He also wanted to cry, just a little bit. Such stupid, stupid small thing. To be remembered.

Then Yuji realized just how much it must hurt to be forgotten.

Throughout breakfast, Yuji kept his eyes trained on Megumi. I’m going to remember. Yuji watches how Megumi uses the edge of the fork to cut his toast into small even bites before pairing it with his eggs. He stares at the way Megumi’s fingers drum against his mug, thumb scratching at the ceramic every time there’s a lull in Yuji’s rapid blabbering. The twitch at the corner of his mouth when Yuji stumbles over a word. I’m going to remember it all.

That was phase one: A meal. Phase two: kick each other’s asses until something clicks.

Yuji grins. This is exactly where he thrives. No more thinking, just movement. The way someone fights can tell you more about them in five minutes than an hour of small talk. It might just be the key to making everything fit back into place.

Across the mats, Megumi pulls off his shirt and starts taping his fists. He says something snarky, but Yuji can’t hear him. He couldn’t even if he tried.

Yuji really just… can’t remember ever being more attracted to anyone in his life. It dries up the moisture in his mouth. And oddly enough, it makes him salivate. Long faded scars and nicks mar the toned plane of his chest. One nasty mark, in particular, draws across his left pectoral, over his collarbone and shoulder as if a giant beast took a swipe at him. Yuji wonders how he got that. Maybe Shibuya. Was he there for it? Did he bandage Megumi up and tell him he’ll be okay? That line of thinking teeters off in favor of less appropriate ones. The ratio to his shoulders and waist is insane. It shouldn’t be physically possible really. In fact, it’s just plain unfair. Those toned, broad shoulders have Yuji completely beat, but then the taper to his waistline… He wants to put his hands around it. They’d fit nicely over the jut of his hip bones. A good place to grab him by.

Yuji sends a prayer to his former self. If you didn’t worship his waist when you had the chance… then that may just be the biggest crime he’s committed yet.

“What?” Megumi tilts his head, his stare cold and even as he assesses Yuji like a new form of curse. “Nothing to say?”

Yuji actually has many things to say. None of them are acceptable in this context. With a burning face, he shouts, “I don’t care how hot you are, I’m not going easy on you!”

“Huh—?”

Before Megumi can respond, Yuji pounces onto the mat and takes the first swing. Megumi draws his arms up, eyes round and bright with surprise where they shine behind the shield of his forearms. He ducks the first few swings. A water snake weaving across the surface of a pond. He’s quick, but not hurried. Yuji feigns a strike to his face, before lashing out with a fist to the stomach instead.

There’s a fraction of a second in the switch-up. A fraction of a second for the smallest smile to crack Megumi’s bruised lip. He catches the feint and moves out of the strike and into his own punch at Yuji’s gut.

The blow connects with a brutal whoosh that snatches all the air in Yuji’s lungs. Nausea pangs in the back of his throat to the pit of his stomach. He swallows it. Yuji’s eyes narrow down, blurring all of the world but the man before him. Those sly green eyes and the wisps of black strands that fall in front of him. He moves like smoke. Shadow. There’s a dance to it. Something you learn to ignore, like the soft dark cast by anything standing before light. How all the people who live under the sun have their own but forget to see it. Megumi makes him see the wonder in it. The beauty of that. The way the sunlight hits his skin, the prismatic shine of his sweat. The way their shadows remember themselves, stretch out beside them under the amber dawn, and kiss each time they throw a punch.

There’s a focus that falls over Megumi’s face that he finds beautiful. In a way, it’s like looking into a mirror. Yuji knows he can be like that too. When violence is in the air. Or far more importantly; when bragging rights are on the line. A piece somewhere in the pit of his heart trembles, knowing that Megumi is like him. They both no longer see the morning light on campus, the empty training yard, or even the mat beneath their feet. Only each other. As they circle and collide and draw apart again and again, the thought churns in Yuji’s head until it’s all he can hear. I see you, you see me. Nothing else. This is how it was meant to be.

And you’re the only thing I want to look at.

Yuji feels it on the tip of his tongue. The urge to say it. To speak to life everything that’s been running ragged through his head. I still want you. Do you want me?

Megumi leans into one of Yuji’s sharp hooks, slipping under his fist at the last moment. Instead of pulling back, Megumi uses that momentum. As quick as the eye blinks, one of Megumi’s hands splays flat against the floor, bracing, before his right leg swings up and a heavy foot slams into the center of Yuji’s chest.

The sound of it is brutal. A thwack that carries across the yard. Yuji stumbles back with a cough and a wheeze. He snatches at Megumi’s ankle, but the other man is already back on his feet. His lungs feel on the verge of collapse. As if all the air he tries to suck in is thin. Though, that might have to do more with the look in Megumi’s eyes. Liquid green lightning. There’s a ghost of a smile on his lips. That faint, faint look of pure contentment that Yuji would take a hundred more kicks in the chest to keep there forever.

It’s no wonder they sparred together so often. Megumi makes getting the shit beat out of him feel a step away from godhood.

“I think you need to focus up, Itadori.” Megumi almost purrs the words. Yuji knows he’s being taunted, but it sounds so sweet. Syrupy and molasses. As if Megumi is barely invested in this fight at all. It makes Yuji desperate to make him work for it. He wants to see Megumi bare his teeth and lunge. “That’s the first time you’ve ever let me kick you without taking me to the mat.”

Yuji grins, though his eyes flicker across Megumi’s body in rapid, intentive passes. His stance is painstakingly vigilant hiding behind understatement. Yuji catches how his right heel just barely hovers over the mat, ready to move. There’s the slightest tilt to Megumi’s body. An axis that leans to that same side. So that’s where Yuji goes. Almost imperceptible. But Yuji sees it. He sees it because it’s Megumi.

Though Yuji is fast, Megumi still catches the movement. There’s that single split second of redirection. That’s what makes the difference. Yuji lands a satisfying blow to Megumi’s stomach, drawing a grunt of pain before he maneuvers them into a grapple. One arm fastens around Megumi’s neck, squeezing his pretty jawline between the muscles of his forearm and bicep. He pins one of Megumi’s arms behind his back and holds it there with a tight constraint on his inflow of oxygen. Megumi’s free arm clutches at his wrist to try and dislodge Yuji’s headlock, but when it comes to raw strength there’s no contest.

“Do you want me to take you to the mat?” Yuji asks against the shell of Megumi’s ear, breathless and panting. It sounds more suggestive than he intended. For a single moment, Megumi goes still. Like an animal of prey, caught in the teeth of a hound with the mightier jaw.

Then, there’s an elbow in the side of his ribs. A brutal, violent jab that has Yuji’s hold loosening just enough for Megumi to slip free. Quickly, almost frantically, Megumi scrambles away from him. His fists pull back up, halfway covering the new flush of pink that paints his face. Yuji rubs his side in a daze as he just stares.

Megumi watches him with his eyes blown wide. His lips parted around harsh pants as if he were stealing every breath from the world with violent, clawing desperation. There’s the stuttering rise and fall of his chest and the sweat that shifts and glistens like a translucent sheen of gemstone. Yuji commits the image to his mind. This, he thinks as his gaze swallows Megumi’s body whole, I will never let myself forget.

Then, Megumi hits him so hard that his vision flashes black.

“Oh my god— you were supposed to block that.”

Yuji falls back onto his ass. The impact makes him hiss. The entire left side of his face smarts with pain. Though, the sting to his pride is far worse. It’s always jarring to be hit in the face, regardless of how many times Yuji has taken it. But to crumple from one punch? It would have never happened if he wasn’t so… so— what’s the word?— Enamored. Yuji starts to reach up to grab his own face, but then there’s a hand on his wrist.

“Hold on, let me look at it.”

Yuji cracks an eye open to find Megumi mere inches away. His breath cuts off halfway through an inhale. Megumi kneels over him, fingers so delicately grazing the side of his face as he tilts Yuji’s chin. His eyes are so green. Startling so. Forest glens and deep deep oceans and lots of romantic things but most of all Yuji thinks about seaweed. The thought of it just pangs inside his head, as persistent as the nasty welt he’s about to form over his left eye. Seaweed. Megumi and Seaweed.

“Hey um, quick question,” Yuji laughs a little nervously, his heart running laps around the inside of his rib cage at being close enough to count every single one of Megumi’s eyelashes. Even as his head starts to hurt. “Onigiri. That’s your favorite food. Right?”

Megumi’s gaze snaps to him so quickly that Yuji nearly flinches. He stares forever. As if Megumi is trying to soak up all possible explanations, and weigh every meaning behind whatever stupid expression must be on Yuji’s face.

“I don’t have a favorite food.” Megumi says, and just as Yuji’s shoulders deflate he continues, “But I do like onigiri.”

Yuji grins. “I remember.”

Megumi stares at him with a carefully blank expression. One of his hands still lingers on Yuji’s cheek, a way to tilt his head to see his new bruise. Yuji leans into it. For a perfect moment, he can feel the callouses on Megumi’s fingers graze his skin. He fights the urge to close his eyes and savor it. The warmth of his palm cupping his cheek. Then, Megumi’s hand jerks back as if Yuji were nothing but an open flame.

“And is that all you remember?”

Yuji’s grin flips into a frown that verges on pouting. “Well, maybe. But that’s still a good sign! I feel like I should get a little credit.”

Megumi pulls back, scoffing. “What? You want me to praise you for half remembering one thing I like to eat when you can’t even remember how to dodge a punch to the face?”

“Hey, that is so not my fault. You distracted me!”

Megumi scoffs again, but there’s this slightest upturn to the corners of his mouth. Though Yuji isn’t winning the argument, that little smile makes him feel like he’s winning something. “I distracted you? Sure. How was I distracting you? It sounds like you’re trying to distract me from the fact you lost.”

“Well, I can think of many examples. For one, you look really good with your shirt off. Two, you look really good when you’re concentrating. And three, you look really really good when you’re about to hit me.” Yuji doesn’t mean to let it all come out like that. But it does. There’s really no stopping it actually. So he leans into it. His eyes lock on Megumi and linger. Yuji offers what he hopes is a cheeky— and dare he say flirtatious— smile.

“Funny.” Megumi rolls his eyes and starts to get up.

Yuji doesn’t let him. His hand flashes out with the same urgency with which he spars and suddenly clutches Megumi’s wrist. There’s this bewildered look on his face. A rare glimpse beyond that deadpan expression. A sheen of alarm in his eyes, locking onto Yuji’s face to look surprised for a split moment before his brows draw together in the prettiest scowl.

“You always think I’m joking.” Yuji tries to say it lightly. With a little smile, tacked with a chuckle at the end. But it doesn’t come out that way. No, it’s just a little too raw.

He watches as Megumi swallows. The pretty Adam’s apple of his throat bobs. He’s probably had his mouth on that. He’s probably had his mouth everywhere. Yet, Megumi acts like this is the first time they’re ever touched. Yuji can’t understand. He’s trying. He’s trying and trying and trying. Yet, the past he’s shared with Megumi is as elusive as the man himself.

“That’s because you can’t take fucking anything seriously.” Megumi snatches his hand back and gives Yuji a light shove to knock him over. It breaks the line of sight.

When Yuji sits back up and looks at Megumi again, that look is gone. He remembers it though. The shock and outrage. The panic. It makes his heart hurt. Like a big, blue bruise inside his chest that keeps getting knocked into the corner of coffee tables and dropped onto the floor.

“I do.” Yuji rubs at the new injury on his face, which has now settled into a less urgent pulsing of pain. “Some things…”

Megumi just scoffs and starts pulling his shirt back on. That only serves to deepen Yuji’s dismay. Ignored and deprived of all eye candy. God must hate him. Megumi is undoubtedly going to slink back to his room and spend the rest of the day in shadow-shrouded solitude, leaving Yuji all alone with his half-baked plans, reeking of desperation.

Just as Yuji’s shoulders start to sag, listening to Megumi’s footsteps lead towards the door when they pause. Yuji picks at a piece of grass poking up between the grooves in the mats. He doesn’t really want to see whatever look Megumi is sending him. It’s either that I’m annoyed and done with you or I don’t even care about this enough to be annoyed. The second one is definitely his least favorite.

Megumi clears his throat. “Are you coming?”

Yuji whips his head up to find Megumi watching him expectantly and scrambles onto his feet. “Yeah, duh.”

He jogs over all too eagerly and collides lightly into Megumi’s side. As they start walking down the hall, Yuji doesn’t even try to hide his contented grin. Maybe this is just how they are. Yuji just can’t escape the sense that he’s thinking about everything way too much and then at the same time, not enough at all.

“Didn’t you say you had an ‘epic ass’ day planned for us or something?” Megumi prompts, running a hand through his hair gone awry.

Yuji watches, then clears his throat. “Yeah, extremely epic. We’re gonna go get some lunch, go to the arcade, and watch a movie.”

There’s a moment of quiet. Yuji’s gaze keeps flipping between the side of Megumi’s profile, to the hall, then back to Megumi. He looks awfully thoughtful. Some might even say that he’s suspecting something.

“This sounds familiar.” There’s not an accusation in his voice like Yuji would have expected. Instead, it’s just hollow. Yuji’s heart takes another beating to its bruises.

“Of course it does.” Yuji covers quickly, flashing a grin despite how much he’d prefer Megumi not to know about his strategic plan developed with insider information. He bumps against Megumi’s side again, flashing a cheesy smile as he says with a hint of over exaggerated affection,“I’m still your Yuji.”

As they walk to the train station, Yuji sneaks glances at Megumi out of the corner of his eyes the whole while. Megumi never looks at him. He doesn’t even say a word.

They get onigiri for lunch. Megumi raises a brow at how Yuji drags them straight to a street vendor the moment they get off the bus, but he doesn’t make a comment otherwise. Yuji makes a show of paying for both of their orders— despite it all being Gojo’s money anyway. They settle down in a patch of shade under a cherry tree too ripe to blossom, but there’s still the faintest trace of flowers clinging to the air.

Megumi rarely speaks first. He unwraps his preferred flavor of onigiri: kombu tsukudani stuffed filling, and takes a conservative bite. Megumi also doesn’t look at him. Yuji has paid close attention to that fact. Except it’s not just disinterest. Yuji is pretty certain that even if you don’t like someone, you still happen to catch their gaze sometimes. It’s more like Megumi is making every effort not to.

Yuji would feel more proud of himself for noticing that if he had any clue what it might mean.

By the time Yuji has finished his third rice ball, Megumi has barely opened his second. He can’t help but scarf everything down. He’s nervous. His foot taps into the grass, gaze wandering to the people passing by on the street, before making their rounds over to Megumi. Always to Megumi. Except finally, with his mouth chock full of sticky rice, he catches Megumi looking back.

There’s always a little squirmy feeling in the pit of his stomach when their eyes meet. The thrill of it. To know he has Megumi’s attention. The hope flashing in the pan. And to be caught halfway through a bite far too big for his own mouth, there’s a healthy dose of embarrassment as well. Yuji struggles to swallow as Megumi makes the most wonderful noise he’s ever heard. It’s just the tiniest snort, a laugh cut short, but a laugh nonetheless. One that he caused.

Yuji coughs after swallowing an enormous bite, “What? What’s so funny?”

“You always eat like you’ve been starving for weeks.” Megumi shakes his head, still smiling ever so faintly. There’s a tiny sigh. One someone could maybe interpret as fond. “Like a dog…”

Yuji sputters in feign offense, taking the chance to lean closer and shove Megumi’s shoulder. “You can’t just say that!”

Megumi puts a hand on the grass to keep himself from falling over. The little smile on his face grows for a moment, before subduing into something else. A smug curl at the corner of his lips which he flashes at Yuji with a matching glint of and what are you gonna do about it in his dark eyes.

“Stop talking with your mouth full. It’s just an observation.”

Yuji squints. “Yeah. Well. A stupid, wrong one.

“Nuh uh.”

“Yah huh.”

“Nuh uh.”

“Yah huh.”

They lean closer as their mocking battle grows louder. Megumi opens his mouth to continue the pissing match, but Yuji tackles him into the grass. It was more of an impulse than a calculated move. To get teased by Megumi, to see that little playful smile and his dip into immaturity… It felt like a bundle of contraband fireworks getting set off inside his rib cage. So much feeling—It explodes right out of him. Completely overriding how desperately Yuji has been trying to think through every interaction with Megumi. How does he make himself into the guy that Megumi decided to give a chance to? What would the Yuji who knows him do?

Yuji finds those questions tumbling out of his head the moment he throws Megumi into the ground. They hit the grass and tumble. Megumi laughs in surprise, and Yuji laughs at the pure sound of it. The fact that he did that. To anyone passing by they must look like a couple of delinquents. Two stupid guys wrestling in the grass and goofing off. But they both laugh together for the first and millionth time, catching glimpses of red cheeks and toothy grins between fruitless tests of strength.

Yuji doesn’t remember a single thing but he can feel Megumi’s pulse. He knows it. He knows the sound that his heart makes somewhere deeper than his brain. There’s the memory of Megumi’s heartbeat in his bloodstream, in the marrow of his bones and down to all the gritty, bloody, squirming viscera inside his body. A thousand years from now, maybe Yuji jr. the seventh will meet Megumi the eighth, hear that heartbeat and just know. A piece has clicked into place.

Something has changed.

On the walk to the arcade, they got into an argument about One Piece. Not a real argument, of course, but a heated one nonetheless. A battle between Nami and Zoro for the most thirst-worthy title. They get loud. A little stupid. Megumi makes a couple threats about summoning Mahoraga and Yuji pretends to cast malevolent shrine. That makes Megumi laugh and punch his shoulder with the cutest, ‘dude, that’s not even funny’.

It feels easier somehow. Yuji finds himself forgetting to think about what to say or do. For the past couple days, his mind has been consumed by that. Questioning every potential course of action. Doubting every half-baked observation and premature assumption. After all, he’s only met Megumi a couple days ago but he has to act as though they’ve known each other for four years. Sometimes he’s even found himself wondering if it’s all a joke. The way Megumi recoils from his touch and scowls at every awful attempt he makes to flirt only supports that notion. It would be just as easy to believe Nobara if she had told him Megumi was nothing more than his friend.

The thought has kept needling through his head. A sinister seed of doubt that has nearly pushed him to the point of asking Megumi point blank, what were we?

Today is different.

The arcade has always been a place of wonder to Yuji. The flashing lights that pull the dated fluorescent patterns from the rug matted down from years of soda spills and sticky kids. 64-bit tunes blasting out of well-loved arcade machines, mingling with the shrieks of younger kids and the awkward, stilted conversations between teenagers out on a first date. Yuji grins as he jingles his tokens in his cargo short pocket, soaking it in. It reminds him of what things used to be like. Before Sukuna and curses. Before he met his boyfriend who doesn’t even like him.

Yuji looks over and catches the fluorescence reflecting in Megumi’s eyes. Patterns of light trace across his face, caressing every tender line and leaving cotton candy hued shadows in the shape of his lashes. His skin looks edible. A neon god leaning back against the air hockey table, with a puck held between two lithe fingers like a drachma waiting to be tossed for fickle favor.

“Ready to get your ass handed to you, Itadori?”

When Yuji looks at him. When he really looks at Megumi, his brain fizzles into a pleasant mush of simple feeling. A feeling less in name and more in sudden knowing. I like him. I really, really like him. Even if Megumi is the single most anti-social and distant boyfriend to have ever walked the earth as a jujutsu sorcerer, Yuji can’t imagine a world where they’re not together.

There it is. The ending of his doubts. Cut off at the head by a guillotine in the form of that lovely smile. Lovely. Ha. Such an old lady word to use, but there’s few that fit quite so well. Every time he looks at Megumi his body flushes with a warm upheaval of fondness. A rush of words like lovely and oh how I like him and especially a constant mantra of eyelashes start tumbling over each other in a desperate race to the forefront of his mind. It feels silly to have ever doubted what they have. Sure, this relationship isn’t really like anything Yuji has seen in movies, but Megumi isn’t like anyone else. He’s been hurt. Forgotten. They are playing this game together. Old lovers but new strangers.

Maybe Megumi is just as terrified of crossing a line as Yuji is?

How will they know where the line is unless one of them goes there? Unless Yuji takes Megumi’s marble edged cheekbones between his hands, holds him like a pool of tender, lovely water and makes the clear, conscious, and deliberate choice to drink him whole?

He grins, skin already buzzing at the prospect of competition. Or maybe at the prospect of testing those lines. Yuji drops a couple tokens into the game and grabs his hand-held disc. As Megumi turns to go to his own side, Yuji finds his critical thinking skills absent in another moment of weakness. His free hand comes down hard on Megumi’s ass, sending him stumbling forward with a yelp of surprise.

Yuji doesn’t think he’s ever witnessed such pure bewilderment in all his life as when Megumi turns back to gape at him.

“What are you, a nun?” Yuji grins, “if you wear pants like that your ass is gonna get smacked. Cause and effect.”

The game begins with a whirl of sound and flashing lights. A catchy tune that does nothing to pull Yuji’s attention from the newest shade of emotion blossoming on Megumi’s cheeks. A variant of flustered embarrassment. Yuji catalogs it to memory.

“You know, I never would accuse you of being someone with a filter— or that you think before anything you do or say,” Megumi starts to say, pretending his very best to act nonchalant. “but that concussion must have broken the microscopic weensy bit of critical thinking you had before.”

Yuji tosses the puck onto the board and sends it forward with a hearty thwack. His eyes follow the blur of black, but every bit of attention still clings to Megumi. It darts back between them. Thwack. Whoosh. Thwack. Whoosh. Yuji runs his tongue against the back of his teeth, debating the question begging for air.

“I don’t… I don’t make you uncomfortable, do I?”

There’s a clatter of plastic against itself as Megumi scores himself a point through Yuji’s goal. Time stretches on forever as Yuji watches his own hand grab for the disc as if moving in slow motion. Megumi is right. It doesn’t come naturally to think before the things he says. It usually works itself out though. Most of the time Yuji doesn’t even realize what he said was risky until the other conversation participant throws a drink. This time though, his stomach coils itself up into a ball of nerves wound tighter than a fist.

Yuji hesitates before setting the puck back on the playing board. He already knows the look on Megumi’s face. That cold, vacant stare of slate. The way his eyes shift with a million different ideas, all his calculations and considerations that Yuji could never hope to interpret. He’s probably finding the least harsh way to let Yuji down: To finally draw the line.

Then, Yuji allows himself a single glance just before he hits the puck. Except, he doesn’t find the will to look back away. No. Megumi has him stuck. A fish on the line, hook caught in his stomach.

There’s that smile. Just as lovely as it was a couple minutes ago. The look on Yuji’s face must be particularly dumb because Megumi starts laughing. The puck drifts slowly from his side towards Megumi, but neither of them are paying enough attention to hit it. Megumi looks aside, hiding his laughter behind the back of his hand. All at once, Yuji finds it adorable but misses the sight of his teeth.

“Don’t be stupid.” His voice is like a veneer of exasperation laid on top of something warm. “Like, you could ever make me uncomfortable.”

Yuji can’t fight his smile. He can’t fight the way his heart lights up and scorches the inside of his chest under the kerosene purr of Megumi’s words. He’s going to remember that. Yuji promises himself for the millionth time that night. That is one thing I will never forget.

The street is busy when they finally leave. Megumi’s arms are full of awful prizes; poorly constructed stuffed animals to limited edition slinkies. Yuji already broke one of their ten sticky hand toys by smacking it against a ceiling fan only to be ripped in half in a completely unforeseen series of events. They both laughed at that until they were politely asked to leave. Although, that might have more to do with the fact that Yuji is a little too good at arcade games and when he laughs he tends to smack the nearest solid object hard enough to disturb other patrons.

Except for a dying streak of glowing orange pressed up behind the jagged city skyline, the sky is dark. People mill around the street, all fixated on their final destination for the night. A group of kids cloisters right outside the front door, comparing prizes and tickets won. Across the street is a bar with the door held open by a sign announcing a combo deal on sake and American-style hot wings for only 600 yen. A couple leaves, their cheeks flushed bright pink with laughter and drinking, brushing into each as they walk, fingers interlocked.

Yuji decides to copy them. He takes Megumi’s hand and winds their fingers together, using the crowd as an excuse to pull him against the throngs of city-goers. His skin is always a little cold. Their sweat mingles quickly. Despite a fully grown man who has been through his fair share of ordeals, this… this holding hands makes him feel nervous. Yuji keeps readjusting their hands. Squeezing intermittently. Pulling back once to wipe his palm off on the front of his shirt before quickly rejoining before Megumi can squirm away.

It takes a couple long and even breaths in and out before Yuji feels calm enough to chance a look at Megumi out of the corner of his eye. The crowd thins and their hands remain entwined. Yet, Megumi stares straight ahead, still holding that bundle of prizes with a completely neutral look on his face.

Ah. Of course he doesn’t care about holding hands. Yuji almost wants to smack himself for being such a nervous wreck over it all when Megumi must be so used to things like this by now. For some reason, that eases the knot in his stomach. They must have done this a million times. His thumb brushes over Megumi’s knuckle. Now it’s a million and one.

“So, are we headed back to the school, or…” Megumi asks and clears his throat. He looks off to the side, watching something that Yuji can’t see.

“No way. The night is young and I’m saving the best for last.” Yuji pulls out his phone to double check the directions, tilting the screen away from Megumi when he tries to sneak a peek. “Hey! It’s a surprise.”

The frown on Megumi’s face almost has Yuji caving. “But you’re so bad at surprises. Just tell me.”

Yuji gives a very dramatic shake of the head before scooping the load of prizes from Megumi’s arm like the gentleman he is. “You’ll just have to keep hanging with your favorite guy a little longer to see. Sorry, this must be such a nightmare.”

Megumi rolls his eyes, but he continues following Yuji through the halos of streetlight. “Something like that.”

It’s just like how he remembers: there’s no line outside the door, only the quiet buzz of lights flashing like stars above the ticket booth, highlighting the current screening. Tonight it features a B-rate horror flick that nobody wasted money advertising. Even from the other side of the street, Yuji can smell the artificially buttered popcorn and the siren song of carbonated soft drinks.

Most of the memory is still foggy. Just a blur with occasional clarity on the sound of Megumi’s laughter or the way he propped his feet up on the seat in front of him. Yuji comes to a standstill and stares at the front doors. Last time they were here, they held hands when they left. He’s pretty sure. Yes. They left the movie, and walked hand in hand and wandered down a side street. Yuji follows the route with his eyes. It feels like the inside of his skull is scraping against the concrete. Begging and bartering for every slice of cherry-picked past through the skin of his teeth. The street turned into a path, a secret stretch of rural greenery tucked away like the city was keeping a secret just for them.

Suddenly, Megumi’s hand breaks from his own. The memory slips away, too fragile to hold together, like the surface of a well breaking beneath the weight of a penny.

“Is this funny to you?”

Yuji blinks. He pulls himself from the murk of that forgotten night and plunges back into reality. A reality where Megumi stands with a cold, cold stare and a voice that’s so much sharper.

“Huh?”

There’s a vein in Megumi’s jaw that ticks. He holds Yuji’s gaze for a long moment. Yuji struggles to match it. It feels like holding ice in the palm of your hand. Cold to the point of burning. Yuji has to look away. He scans the street instead. His eyes follow the lines of the theater building with his brows drawn together in pure confusion, as if the reason for Megumi’s switch lies somewhere out there.

“Forget it.” Megumi spits.

In a rare fit of anger, Megumi casts the one prize he was still holding onto the dirty concrete. A stuffed wolf with ugly eyes. It made them both laugh when they saw it and ironically also cost the most tickets. Yuji stares at those ugly, sad eyes that gaze up at him from the street, before snatching it up as Megumi begins storming away.

“Wait!” Yuji shouts, readjusting all the stupid things he won before striding after the other boy. “Dude, come on! I literally don’t even remember what you’re upset about!”

Megumi keeps walking, pace brisk with his fists tight at his sides. Yuji really regrets taking all the stupid prizes now. At least they might have slowed him down. Actually, Megumi would have probably dropped those too. Then, he’d look like an even bigger idiot attempting to pick them up before chasing after his surprisingly fast boyfriend.

“Megumi, hold up, please.” Yuji jogs up to his side and swerves to stand right in front of him.

For all his efforts there’s nothing but a blank stare on Megumi’s face. It sends a chill down to the pit of his stomach. He’d rather a million scowls and sneers of pure disgust than that… that look of complete apathy.

“I— let me explain please.” Yuji can’t help the panic seeping into his voice. He wishes there was a part of him that was more like Megumi. That he could just flick a switch and be perfectly calm and reasonable. Yuji wishes more than anything that the prospect of ruining things with the person who matters most didn’t reduce him to the most pathetic man who has ever walked the earth. “I remembered us coming here and I thought—”

Megumi’s face pales. “You remembered this?”

Yuji blinks, brows furrowing. “Y-yeah. Kind of. We used to watch movies here together all the time.”

There’s a moment of silence. Megumi is nothing more than a wall of cold stone. Unyielding and faceless. Yuji switches his weight between his feet, swallowing down the heartbeat that threatens to burst his own eardrums.

The silence lasts until Yuji can’t take it anymore. “Can’t you just tell me what upset you? Can we please just talk?”

Megumi stares back at him. Maybe if he wasn’t so beautiful then Yuji’s lungs wouldn’t feel like they’re getting crushed under the weight of those eyes. Those eyes that hold more than he could ever hope to know.

“I’m not upset.” Megumi lies to his face. Raising an arm, he pushes Yuji out of his way. “There’s class early tomorrow morning. Maybe a mission. We don’t have time for a movie, Itadori—”

“Please—” Yuji winces at the way his own voice cracks. It makes Megumi flinch. Everything he won today has started slipping through his fingers. Figuratively. Every inch closer to Megumi that he’s fought and died for. All those smiles, and the sound their laughter makes blended into one perfect mix of noise. Holding his hand long after they left the crowds. It all crumbles before the one thing that hurts the most. “Why won’t you just say my name?”

Yuji didn’t realize how much it hurt not to hear him say it. Those two syllables drawn and shot from the sweet bow of Megumi’s lips leave more of a gap in his chest than any wound of the flesh ever could. If his mind wasn’t so cruel, then maybe it would have at least left that. Yu. ji. In the shape of Megumi’s voice. Maybe in all its variations. Yuji. In fond exasperation. Yuji. In brittle anger born of fear. Yuji… filled with wanting, with adoration, with lovesick eyes and a smile made for him alone.

“You don’t know what you’re asking of me.”

Yuji clenches his jaw. Suddenly, his blood feels hot. His voice comes out sharper than he means too. A kitchen knife mistaken as dull. Yuji cuts himself on the hurt that bleeds into anger.“Then tell me. Why can’t you just tell me why?”

Megumi doesn’t look at him. Yuji can only search the faintest sliver of his face illuminated only by the flickering street lamp from across the road.

“Have you considered that I don’t want to have to tell you how to be my best friend?” Megumi’s voice is still vacant, and Yuji can’t tell what that means. He can’t understand any of it but for the way it squeezes his heart until it cries. “Maybe I just want you to be what you want without worrying whether or not it makes you a different person.”

Yuji swallows. Finally, Megumi turns to look at him, but he almost wishes he wouldn’t. What a fool he is. And he must look so… so desperate. A clambering idiot so, so eager to please. So obvious. To mold himself into the right version of Yuji to suit him best. Megumi probably saw through him since the very beginning. He doesn’t know why that feels so humiliating. Almost like, he’s just been tolerated this entire time. As if Megumi has been entertaining all his failures despite disliking every single way Yuji has changed being the slightest bit aware.

Yuji opens his mouth, but nothing follows. He watches as Megumi’s eyes break from him and instead latch onto the face of the theater. In Yuji’s memories, it was the happiest place he’d ever known and yet Megumi looks so haunted. Like a splinter on a porcelain teacup, a seam of anger and a vein of hurt breaks through Megumi’s apathetic veneer. Then, he sets his jaw tight and turns away from Yuji once again. He can feel it. The change in the air. The barrier grows hard and solid between them.

“I hope you never remember what you said here.”

Then, Megumi is gone. A swift two steps and into shadow he’s swept off to leave Yuji alone with his arms full of cheap prizes underneath the flashing lights.

Chapter Text

“The reviews for this are awful. Like, 2% on rotten tomatoes— I didn’t even know they could get that low.” Megumi scrolls through the current screening’s review page. Mecha-Head versus the Invasive Snail-People. Leave it to Yuji to find the most niche garbage on the face of the planet. “Actually, I’m pretty sure the only reason it isn’t zero is because the director added his own review.”

Megumi leans against Yuji’s side in the concessions line. Well, technically there is no line since it’s only the two of them and the underpaid highschooler scooping popcorn out of a machine in dire need of replacement. That’s why they like this place though. The few people who do come here do it to be alone. Or alone with someone.

Yuji points out every box of candy that stands out in the display case— totaling around seven, not counting the one pack of dark chocolate-covered raisins he gets for Megumi. They decide on a Big Gulp of Sprite to share between them. Not for any practical reason. Yuji prefers Fanta and Megumi tends to go with water, but they always end up sharing anyway. There’s something about the compromise. They do it without thinking.

“Everybody is saying that the ending is easily the worst part.” Megumi continues scrolling as Yuji leads him by the hand to their cinema. “The main villain is actually Mecha-Head’s father? Predictable.”

Yuji groans in annoyance as he stops Megumi right before he walks down the wrong aisle, grip tightening on his hand. “Aww c’mon, Fushiguro,” His voice is whiny enough to make Megumi look up, “Why do you always have to spoil it?”

They sit in the second to back row in the very center. Yuji sinks into his seat dramatically, mouth pursed in an exaggerated pout. His arms cross over his chest, sulking in his little red hoodie. Megumi fights a smile. Cute.

“I like to know what’s gonna happen.” Megumi hesitates before leaning against his shoulder, arm sliding underneath Yuji’s so they can both look at his phone as the commercials play.

“That defeats the entire purpose of a movie,” Yuji argues, refusing to look at his phone out of a performative kind of morality.

“Doesn’t stop you from re-watching Human Earthworm twice a month though, does it?”

Yuji huffs. His shoulder lowers just a little, a more comfortable angle for Megumi.

“Stop pouting, look at what somebody edited over the the terrible CGI.”

Yuji reluctantly watches the video on Megumi’s screen. Something cheesy and ridiculous. Horrible jarring sound effects and over-baked filters. Megumi watches him. The way Yuji’s cheeks flare out as he fights the smile that starts curling at the corners of his mouth. The scar on his cheek wobbles. Then, there’s that laugh. It sounds like every warm word they’ve never said. The way Yuji grabs his hand in a crowd. Every touch that distorts the threads between them like sunlight breaking across the surface of a lake.

“That’s so dumb.”

“Yeah. And so what does that make you?” Megumi didn’t realize he was smiling until he heard it in his own voice.

“Ughhhh,” Yuji draws out a groan far longer than necessary, arms stretching above his head as he moseys out the front doors of the theater. “Man, I don’t wanna go back yet.”

Megumi looks up at the sky, distracting himself from how the hem of Yuji’s jacket lifts just enough to show a slice of stomach. It’s so strange how the little peek of what’s there is what makes his face feel hot. He’s seen Yuji shirtless countless times. It’s annoying. Like, yes, we get it, you’re sixteen and absolutely shredded. Some people are blessed and Yuji has no qualms about showing himself off. But, it’s in those unintentional moments that always have Megumi taking pause. The little previews of his body. Flashes of skin and muscle that play behind his eyelids for days after he catches them. Megumi still gets shivers remembering the time he walked in on Yuji changing.

He clears his throat, glancing at the time. “It’s still not too late. We shouldn’t stay out past sunset though.”

Yuji frowns. It’s not quite golden hour, but already hints of sunshine-flavored highlights kiss the angles of his proud face. The dying daylight always makes his eyes seem darker. Two great black holes that swallow the whole world— no, that’s not quite right. His eyes aren’t like black holes at all. Nothing like the chilly freezer drawer cubbies of space. The lonely vacant abyss where stars are separated for eternities between. Yuji’s eyes are much closer. Warm. Close to everything he touches, to the world and all the unworthy people living in it. The kindred, spiritual feeling of holding a domesticated animal in your hands and staring into those sweet, big, trusting eyes and the sudden gratitude for the sort of kindness that people haven’t figured out yet.

They still swallow the world. Those big brown eyes. Megumi drowns every time.

“Do I have something on my face?” Yuji’s brows furrow together, crinkling the space between them as he starts blindly wiping at his mouth.

Megumi grabs his arm and yanks it down. “No, relax. I was just thinking.” His heartbeat skips a couple of beats, still afraid of being caught. Regardless of how silly that fear now seems. He glances toward the direction of the bus stop, then takes Yuji’s hand. “Let’s stay out a little longer.”

Yuji cheers as they both start walking. There’s no destination in mind. Not really. Megumi keeps glancing back at their hands as Yuji kicks pebbles across the vacant streets. The pad of his thumb presses over Yuji’s knuckle. It feels like a sudden marvel. The human body. Skin smooth and rough, tendons pulling bones on their line. The ridges of every fingerprint. They fit together well. Bodies and hands. Fingers that mesh like a zipper drawing up a jacket. How would Yuji’s lips feel on his own? How would his skin taste? His scars?

It’s second nature for Megumi to push these thoughts away the moment they start to rear their ugly heads, but this time, he hesitates. Is it really so bad? He catches himself looking into Yuji’s amber-stained profile, lips, and flashes of teeth that move so musically with every story he’s already told Megumi a hundred times before. It used to scare him sick. This infatuation; a nausea that would never leave.

Megumi is a pessimist at heart. He can’t remember being any other way. His first memory is someone leaving. He never meant to feel this way about Yuji.

“Whoa!” The grip on Megumi’s hand tightens as Yuji points ahead like he wouldn’t have noticed without his assistance. Then again, he was staring at Yuji so maybe he wouldn’t have. “How creepy is this?”

Megumi wouldn’t describe it as creepy exactly. Maybe more like sad. After walking directionless down suburban backstreets, they’ve wandered into a corner of the city that everyone else seems to have forgotten about. They weave through a gap of chain-link fence and stand atop the overgrown grass of an abandoned park. There’s a broken swing-set sitting beside a shallow slide long rusted over. Little patches between the grime catch rays of light, and flash them with dying silver. In the center sits a lonely fountain. The water is shallow and green with slime and murk, but hiding amidst the mud and broken tiles little coins glitter like forgotten treasure.

A wishing well.

“Should we make a wish?” Yuji asks, voice soft.

Megumi’s heart melts as he keeps his eyes locked on the still water. Of course, Yuji would make a wish. He always tosses salt over his shoulder for good luck and knocks on wood when he says something he shouldn’t. Megumi smiles. He remembers Yuji’s last birthday. The way he stared all sixteen candles down with the weight of worlds on his shoulders. His cheeks puffed and his face screwed up with the big breath he was holding as they all watched his face grow bright red in suspense as he thought awfully hard about what to wish for.

Megumi never meant to feel this way. But Yuji’s hand feels so nice in his own. Warm and solid. Like it was always meant to be there. That’s the kind of thought he tries not to think. So cheesy. Even though it’s only in his head, Megumi finds his stomach fluttering with embarrassment.

Megumi pulls out a coin and offers it to him. Instead of taking it, Yuji just holds the other half and scrunches his eyes shut tight. His wishing face, Megumi decides to call it.

“Are we sharing the same wish?”

Yuji cracks one eye open with a flash of teeth. “Yeah.”

“What if that means it won’t work?”

Yuji moves a little closer, still awkwardly holding the little coin between their bodies. “I thought you didn’t believe in stuff like this.”

Megumi presses his lips together tightly. “I don’t, but—”

“But?”

“But what if?”

Yuji frowns at the coin. The little frown that means he’s thinking. “Okay. Let’s just tell each other the wish after we do it, then that will void it.”

“Doesn’t that kind of defeat the purpose?”

Megumi’s heartbeat quickens. There’s only one wish on his mind. One that he can’t admit to. Not yet, at least. Not yet.

“Well, maybe, but…” Yuji’s eyes drift back to Megumi’s face. Nice and slow. As if the world can wait. Megumi almost falls right into those big, big eyes. “Then we’ll know what we want more than anything.”

Megumi swallows. He hopes Yuji doesn’t mind how his hand shakes just a little. “It sounds kind of cringey when you say it out loud like that… Yuji.”

“Oh—” Yuji’s eyes snap open wide at the sound of his name, but then there’s that smile. A big one. Blinding. His voice is soft, so soft as he says, “Megumi.”

Yuji laughs at their clumsy stumbling into true informality, and Megumi can’t help but laugh with him. The sound fills him from the inside out. He always forgets how hollow his body feels when it’s not filled by the vibration of his laughter. Now his chest overflows. Warmth floods every little piece of him until he’s worried that little hearts might start pouring through his eyes like tears.

Then, Yuji closes his eyes and mumbles something only for himself. Megumi copies him, though he says nothing. He focuses everything on imbuing that silly coin with the weight of his one desire. I’m choosing to trust you, please don’t let me down.

The coin drops into the fountain with the softest plink. They both watch it sink to the bottom, glinting like a jewel among all the other wishes. Megumi wonders if any of them ever came true. He’s always been a pessimist, but there’s a little part of him that believes maybe, just maybe, some of them have.

“I wished for Gojo-Sensei to cancel class tomorrow.”

Immediately, Megumi snaps his head back to glare at Yuji. “Are you serious?”

“Uh…” Yuji blinks absently, clearly confused by the irritation in his voice. “Yes? I want another day just like this one. No training or missions, just… I don’t know.”

Megumi thinks he might know what Yuji is trying to say. Might. The possibility is almost too much. Just like pressing the palm of your hand to the hot cement. The pain of holding onto something that almost burns you.

“What do you mean?” Megumi’s voice is quiet.

Their eyes meet. For a split second, Yuji seems surprised. It’s such a lovely look on his face. The way his eyebrows shoot up and his gaze goes round and dewy. His lips part just barely, readying his words before a soft smile interjects.

“You know, just… like this.” Yuji gestures around vaguely before meeting Megumi’s blank expression, clearly not understanding. “Just us being together. I’ve never felt… I don’t know. Like, I can just be me, I guess. I like it when we’re alone. I feel like you’re the only one who gets me, y’know? Geez, that sounds cheesy, doesn’t it? I mean—”

“—I don’t think so,” Megumi says, softer than the breeze that bends the overgrown grass. He grips the side of the well. Pock-marked stone sinks against his palms, pressing red marks overtop the lifeline creased into his hand. “I don’t think it’s cheesy.”

Yuji blinks, then looks aside with a sheepish grin. “If Kugisaki was here she’d be making so much fun of us.”

Suddenly, Megumi understands the phrase butterflies in your stomach. That’s really what it feels like. It feels like Yuji is dancing around something that could be a confession. And in turn, his insides feel carbonated. Fizzing, bubbly, and light.

“She’s not here though. It’s just us. Alone.” Megumi swallows, staring at the other boy until Yuji finally meets his eyes again. He trains his face into a perfectly neutral state, a mask of indifference so contrary to the stage five meltdown he’s experiencing in his head. I like you. The world clashes against the inside of his brain. I like you. Even though the world they live in is awful, even if every sorcerer dies with regret and their fates will be no different. Even if it makes no difference at all. If it only makes things hurt more. I like you, Yuji.

His voice is flat, careful. He says it in the only way he knows how.“I like being alone with you, Yuji.”

The park is quiet. A gentle, warm wind pushes the swing ever so lightly as it creaks. A dog barks at the sunset a block of quiet homes away. The sky turns pink. Yuji does too.

“I like being alone with you too.” His lips squirm, a funny sort of smile that fights its way to a brilliant grin. “Megumi.”

Megumi bites the inside of his mouth. Despite the smart of pain, he smiles anyway. Like an idiot. A fool grin.

“Cool.”

“Very cool.” Yuji runs a hand through his hair and rocks back on his heels. “Soo, you didn’t tell me what you wished for.”

Megumi’s eyes drift back to the well, searching for their lucky coin amid the other wishes. He kind of wants to have it melted down and forged into some sort of promise ring. A tribute to the day it all happened. It hardly feels real. Yet, Megumi can’t bring himself to clarify, for fear that he might taunt fate. Yuji likes him back. After all this time, Yuji likes him back.

“It’s embarrassing.”

Yuji makes a noise, somewhere between a groan and a huh? “More embarrassing than what we just said five seconds ago?”

Megumi shoots him a sharp look with no real bite.

“Aww, c’mon,” Yuji leans closer with a pout that Megumi does his very, very best to ignore, “Just say it.”

He’s so close. Megumi risks a look. Those brown eyes are much closer than they ought to be. His heart feels twice its size. Every freckle seems to glow— speckles of sunlit shadow. A smile still lingers on the corners of Yuji’s lips. On that big dumb mouth. Megumi can’t look anywhere else.

“Can I just show you?”

Megumi had already fastened himself to the mast of this ship before the words were even spoken. There’s only one thing he’s ever asked the universe for. Tied to that little coin sleeping among a hundred other fortunes. Everything else in life he’s known better than to hope for. He’s known better. Yuji makes hoping too easy. He makes good things feel closer. Within arms reach as opposed to a lifetime away. So when Megumi wished for that kiss, it felt like more than an empty desire thrown out to drown. It felt like fate. It felt like despite everything, they were meant to share that first kiss. That no matter what happened, the night would always end like this.

So Megumi leans into it. His eyes scrunch tight and he brings only one hand up to fist in the hem of Yuji’s shirt. Nerves jumble and spark inside him like live wires getting crossed. He’s never felt so close to throwing up.

His mouth hits skin. But it’s not Yuji’s lips. It’s his hand.

Megumi’s eyes snap open and the threat of throwing up is suddenly far more real.

The look on Yuji’s face is unlike anything he’s ever seen. Pale, mouth slackened shock. He keeps his hand covering Megumi’s mouth until the other boy takes a step away. His fingers unwind from Yuji’s shirt, leaving crinkles in the fabric.

“What are you doing?”

Megumi contemplates a thousand different ways to die. “Nothing.”

“Did you just try to kiss me?”

He sounds so… Megumi can’t think of a word that captures it well enough. There’s nothing good there. No excitement, no mutual affection. It sounds dry. A little tight with his confusion. Megumi is an idiot. A complete fucking idiot who has just ruined absolutely everything.

“Yeah.” Megumi shrugs to play it off. He turns away, hands in his pockets as he pretends to watch a car turning into a driveway.

“Oh. Like as a joke?”

The question twists like a knife. Of course not as a joke you clueless fucking dumbass. He wants to scream it. He wants to scream at Yuji for being too stupid and kind to understand what a confession sounds like. He wants to beat himself over the head for ever assuming. As much as that question stings, it provides a perfect escape. The coward’s way out.

“Yeah. Obviously.”

There’s no way Yuji would believe that. There’s no way— then he starts laughing. Yuji braces one hand on the side of the well and the other clasps his heart. Normally, that laugh makes Megumi feel a lot of things. Warm, fond things that he had always kept to himself. Now each one rings against his ears like a slap to the face.

“Oh thank god—” Yuji wipes a tear from the corner of his eye and immediately gives Megumi a playful shrug. “You are way too good at keeping a straight face, man. I almost shit my pants. Can you imagine us—” he can’t even manage the word ‘kissing’ before snorting with another bout of laughter. “Ah, man… gross.”

Megumi stands very still. There’s a bus stop just five minutes down the street. He just has to get that far and get back to Jujutsu High. He stares at the street and blinks with purpose as his eyes burn.

“We should pull that prank on Kugisaki!” Yuji shouts, slinging his arm around Megumi’s shoulders. “Oh my god, can you imagine her face?”

“I doubt she would care,” Megumi says, glancing at his phone for an excuse to shrug Yuji’s arm off his shoulder, “We should head back.”

“Huh? Oh yeah.” Yuji stretches his arms above his head before falling in step beside Megumi. If he notices the brisk pace, he doesn’t mention it. “Today was fun. I hear they’re gonna show previews of the next Human Earthworm next Saturday, we should come back and check it out.”

Megumi scrolls aimlessly through his phone, unable to look at his friend. “Pass. I think I’ve had enough shitty movies to last a lifetime.”

“Oh.” They pass a street in silence. “Are you feeling okay, Megumi?”

The sound of his name has Megumi stumbling. He had just tempered down the punch of emotions but at the mere sound of it spoken with Yuji’s voice, his vision prickles once again.

“Fine.” He keeps his voice even. Somehow. Yet, there’s nothing he can do to keep from saying the next word with a cold edge. “Itadori.”

Megumi doesn’t look at him. There’s never been a person he’s wanted to look at less actually.

“Oh,” Yuji says for the second time, but this one is a lot quieter. “Okay. Good. Fushiguro.”

Megumi nods. He’s glad he didn’t have to explain that, at least. They spend the bus ride home in strange silence, interrupted only by Yuji’s failed attempts to spark conversation. Neither of them reached for each other’s hand. Megumi has the feeling that Yuji knows it wasn’t a joke, but he’s kind enough not to mention it. Neither of them do. Neither of them talk about it ever again.

“Oh my god.”

Megumi stares down into his teacup. Murky green with jasmine sand sitting at the bottom. He presses his lips together before sighing. “Yep.”

“Oh my god.”

Sitting across from him on the bed is Nobara. Currently, she stares back at him with her jaw sweeping the floor in a look of utter stupefaction that might be funny if Megumi wasn’t so humiliated.

“So… you’re telling me,” Nobara points at him, then to herself for complete clarity, “That you have liked Itadori this entire time? Since you were literally sixteen? And you never even told me?”

Megumi takes a sip, looking away at the accusation in her voice. “If it makes you feel better, I was trying to forget about it.” He takes a sip from his teacup, electing not to mention that he’s now nineteen and no closer to getting over it.

“Huh? Forget you had a crush? That’s not how that works, Fushiguro!” Nobara rubs her face, far more stressed than Megumi had expected. “Oh my god…”

She’s treating this far, far more differently than he had anticipated. After everything that happened with Yuji, he just wanted a night with Nobara to distract himself, but then she started probing, and then… it all just came out. Megumi expected a lot more laughter and jokes at his expense. Not this.

“It’s fine. I’m over it now.” Megumi sighs and slouches back on the wall his bed is pressed up against. He weighs that sentence for a second after he speaks it. It tastes like a half-truth walking the line of a lie. “I thought I was.”

Nobara’s gaze snaps over to him. It’s sharp. Predatory somehow. There’s this frantic light in her eyes that has Megumi shuffling in his seat under the intensity. “So you still like him?”

The question makes Megumi wince. How does he answer that? How could he? He’s come to terms with the fact their lifestyles don’t align with the childhood sweetheart tropes. Even if he felt this way for someone else, he can’t imagine it ending in anything but tragedy. Not that he’s even sure he could like anyone else.

“Yeah.”

Just as quickly, Nobara’s expression softens. It’s strange on her face. She looks away. “Fushiguro…” she draws in a breath. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Megumi scoffs, almost laughing at the notion. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard her apologize for anything— let alone something she didn’t do. No, it’s not Nobara’s fault at all. Or even his. It’s Yuji’s. It all comes back to Yuji in the end. People like him shouldn’t exist. Not in this world at least. They’re too good for it. Too good for… everything. “We can stop talking about it now.”

Nobara frowns at him. Megumi ignores it and thumbs the rim of his mug.

“But yesterday…” Nobara presses, scooting a little closer until their knees knock together. “It sounded like a date. Is it too crazy to think that Yuji might like you back? I mean, that was a long time ago. Maybe things have changed.”

There’s an old, almost forgotten flash of hope that pangs in his chest. It feels nice, for just a moment, to imagine. It’s been years since he’s let himself tread those waters. Just as quickly as it comes, the ache of rejection takes its place. There’s a reason why he doesn’t go there. A reason why he won’t let himself so much as think of Yuji as anything but a friend.

It hurts.

“I don’t care.” Megumi looks at her, watching as Nobara’s face creases into something he could never hope to read. There are pieces of pity in her honeydew eyes and an argument perched on her tongue. “I was stupid to try. Can you name a single sorcerer that’s ever had it good? A single one who’s had a long, happy relationship?”

Silence fills the room. Of course, she can’t name one. Nobody can. Nobara has only been dating Maki for a couple of months and she knows as well as he does the fear which comes every time they go out into the field. Her face turns away. Megumi looks down at his hands in his lap. Sometimes, he wishes he could lie.

“So what?” Nobara knocks his knee again, making Megumi look back up. This time, she fixes him with a smile. It confuses him. She’s being a lot… kinder than normal. Maybe she’s started some kind of medication. “You’re telling me that if Yuji liked you back, you wouldn’t take the chance? You don’t think it’d be worth it?”

Megumi swallows. Does she know something? Yuji’s behavior has been strange since his injury. Strange as in… extremely flirtatious. It feels like the way they were before Megumi’s inadvertent confession. All the lingering touches, the lack of space and so many signs that are getting more and more difficult not to misinterpret. Megumi can almost feel his idiot self getting pulled under once again. He hopes that she doesn’t. It feels far more humiliating.

“I— I can’t think like that, Kugisaki. I can’t do it again.” Megumi turns away, legs swinging off the bed so he can plant them on the floor and run a hand through his unkempt hair. It’s hard not to let emotion seep through his words. It’s hard but he does it. His voice is carefully flat and even as he speaks. “Can I be honest?”

Nobara nods, straightening up beside him. “Obviously.”

“That was the first time I’ve ever felt so scared. Everything else I’ve been through has just kind of happened to me, you know? But Yuji… you and him are my first real friends.” He makes a face as he says it, wincing at the way honesty stings. Nobara also finds the admission uncomfortable because she shoves at his shoulder. “No, but really— and I was so close to chasing him away. It feels like I lost him twice. For that split moment after I tried to kiss him and then when Sukuna—”

His voice was so even. So strong and clear until that name. Until the memory of it floods the front of his mind.

“Fushiguro…” Nobara speaks his name so softly, and there’s something else there he can’t quite place. “I’m sorry. I… I have something I need to tell you. I should have told you a lot sooner. Like, way way sooner. I didn’t know there were actually like feelings involved here and I—”

There’s a knock at Megumi’s door.

Megumi looks at her, then towards the loud raps that rattle the door frame. It’s like his heart doesn’t know whether to sink or flutter. In the end, he still just feels dread.

“What?” For the first time in his life, Megumi hopes it’s Gojo on the other side.

“Uh. It’s Yuji. Can I come in?”

Of course it is.

Nobara gasps. Megumi ignores her and inhales through the nose.

They didn’t talk in class today. Despite Yuji’s obvious stares from the desk beside him. Megumi should have known he wouldn’t be able to give it a rest. “Do what you want.”

Nobara shoots him a glare for that apathetic tone, but naturally, it does nothing to deter Yuji from striding on in. He looks a little flustered. Cheeks flushed pink with exertion, wearing an outfit that could be categorized either as athleisure-wear or pajamas for gym nuts. It’s not Yuji’s outfit or cute look of surprise at Nobara’s presence that catches Megumi’s attention. It’s the bouquet of delicate shadowy blue flowers wrapped in parchment paper and a bow of twine he holds in his hand. A second too late, Yuji hides them behind his back.

“Aha… Kugisaki! Hey. Um. Didn’t know you were here.” Yuji grins, but his face grows a little more red. “Just hanging out?”

“Just leaving actually.” Nobara jumps to her feet, but not without a very clear look at Megumi: good luck.

“Wait—” Megumi can’t help the tiny surge of panic. He’s not sure how much more alone time with Yuji he can withstand. Yesterday was… too close. “What were you about to tell me?”

“Oh. Haha. Right.” Nobara scratches her neck awkwardly as she edges towards the door. “It wasn’t that important actually. I’ll just… leave you to it.”

Yuji sidesteps, carefully hiding the bouquet behind his back with a pleasant smile as Nobara slips into the hall. The door closes with a soft click that sounds more like the finality of a funeral chime. It plunges the room back into silence. Megumi can hear the sound of his throat as he swallows and the softest pitter-patter of rain plinking off the tiled roof.

“So… you probably saw the thing I’m hiding right?”

Megumi blinks at him. “What thing?”

“Oh thank god, it feels stupid now, I’m just gonna—”

“Of course I saw the flowers, dumbass. Just give them to me.”

Yuji heaves a sigh and reveals them once again. They’re pretty. Megumi recognizes the presentation from a flower cart just down the street. Gingerly, he takes the bouquet from Yuji’s clenched fists. They’re very pretty. He thinks that every single time he’s walked past the cart, blooming with every color like blots of vibrant ink. No one has ever got him flowers before.

“It’s a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Megumi asks, but he can’t sound nearly as flippant as he would like. No, he’s hardly the picture of apathy when he can’t take his eyes off of the bundle of bruised purple blooms tied together so nicely in his hands.

“What? Ah, really?” Yuji immediately rubs the back of his neck, nervous. “I know it’s cheesy—”

“No. Do you know what these flowers are called?” Megumi stands up to prepare the vase on his desk so he doesn’t think about how cute it is when Yuji panics. “Forget-me-nots.”

“Ah…” Yuji winces a little, but something about his blunder has Megumi smiling, despite everything. When Yuji sees that, his grin is quick to return. “Ah! I knew you would like them.”

“Who said I liked them?” Megumi turns his back to him, situating the stems properly into their vessel.

Yuji leans against the desk and cocks his head back to peer into Megumi’s face. That grin has faded into something far more dangerous. A soft magnetic smile, that pulls his gaze like tides under moonlight. “You don’t have to say it.” Yuji looks away, suddenly shy. “You seem like that kind of person. The kind who likes flowers.”

Megumi nearly knocks the vase over. He doesn’t mean it like that. He tries to remind himself. Yuji forgot that moment by the fountain. The night he nearly ruined everything. He’s forgotten how to be careful with words. At least, to be careful with Megumi.

Megumi tells himself it means nothing. Yet his heart thuds in his throat, quickening with every heavy beat.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said last night,” Yuji continues, “And you’re right.”

Megumi’s mind sprints for an answer but rather than context, his brain only supplies how it felt to wrestle in the midday shade and get pinned to the grass. He keeps fidgeting with the flowers, turning each of their faces towards his own.

“I was kind of… well. I was trying to be who I thought I was. Or, like, an even better version of me who I don’t remember but that you would like more?” Yuji keeps going, although Megumi hardly understood what that could possibly mean, “Like, I know it’s stupid to get you flowers. It’s probably a little cringey. But… I wanted to. I’m done holding back— God, I just have this constant headache from thinking. Thinking and thinking and thinking about every single little thing I do around you. You were right that there was a part of me that was pretending.”

Megumi watches Yuji’s fingertips drum against the desk out of the corner of his eye. Arrhythmic. He keeps shifting on his feet. Megumi doesn’t mean to look at him, but it happens anyway.

All he meets is earnest. The freckles that frame Yuji’s eyes capture him in the crux of weakness. Megumi can’t look away. Even if the possibility in those words scares him. Terrifies him.

“So, I’m going to be completely honest from now on. I’m gonna ask for what I want instead of, um,” Yuji’s gaze flicks aside sheepishly for a moment before returning to Megumi with redoubled determination. “Instead of trying to guess what you want and doing that what I think you like.”

Megumi doesn’t move. Yuji’s voice had lowered just to say that. It feels so much heavier that way. It’s very… strange to hear these kinds of words come out of Yuji’s mouth. He’s being remarkably reflective. Transparent and honest. Not that Yuji isn’t already like that, it’s just different from the way they had grown around each other. There would be things left unspoken. Small disagreements and the boundaries of touch that came after that night at the theater. It’s unnerving to have things aired like this. Nerve-wracking.

“Okay.” Megumi turns to look at Yuji fully, watching how he straightens up with a jolt under his scrutiny. “So what do you want?”

“What do I want?” Yuji asks with a flicker of surprise, then his eyes glimmer as his mind conjures up the answer. Megumi finds himself getting nervous. Why did he have to ask?

“Yeah,” Megumi confirms as Yuji watches him close, unblinking.

God, why is his heart beating so fast?

Yuji swallows. He’s so easy to read. All his fears are written in perfect penmanship in every crease between his eyebrows and the way his throat bobs before he speaks. Megumi wonders if he’s ever successfully lied in his entire life. Or maybe, he just knows Yuji so well that his face has become another fluency.

“I want to hang out with you.”

Megumi blinks, deadpan. Yuji swallows again. He’s nervous like a dog begging at the table for scraps. As if asking for a slice of Megumi’s time is such a grave, covetous thing. As if he’s truly afraid of Megumi telling him no.

You definitely should say no, he reminds himself. The last time they had spent time together it brought back so many things he’d rather forget. Honestly, it’s a little unfair for Yuji to get spared from that night while he is forced to relive it every time Yuji reaches for his hand or stares just a second too long with a smile so soft it could almost fool him back into believing, just for a moment, that…

No. Megumi needs space. He needs time to sort himself out far, far away from Yuji and his flowers, and those big brown eyes and that sad puppy-dog expression begging for just a little piece of his time. It’s been years. He can resist that pout. He’s got to have immunity by now. Megumi is completely, 100% totally unaffected by the pathetic charms of Itadori Yuji.

“Yeah. Okay.”

God damn it.

Yuji lights up. No, that hardly describes the way his entire demeanor changes. Megumi has to squint to avoid being blinded by that giant grin. It’s whiplash how quickly Yuji settles in. One moment, he’s grinning down at Megumi and then the next he’s plopped down in the center of his bed and pulled the other boy’s laptop atop his knees. A soft beam of blue light makes Yuji’s face glow, his dark eyes reflecting little halos of shine as he meets Megumi’s gaze from across the room.

“Yo, what’s your Netflix password again? You really need to start checking the ‘remember’ box. Don’t you get annoyed typing it in every time?”

Megumi sighs. He should have just said no.

Chapter Text

So that’s how Megumi finds himself squished between Yuji’s side and the wall on his twin XL half a season deep in the Real Housewives of New Jersey . Just like every night before Yuji had hit his head. It’s strange to think of the stages they’ve been through. All those lines they pushed but never crossed. They never went back to holding hands or leaning on each other in public queues, but this was something neither of them could give up. The simplicity of laying beside the other. No expectations. No pressure. Just stupid commentary on even stupider media that helps them both forget about things that matter. Just for a little while.

That was part of what terrified Megumi so badly the day he almost confessed. The possibility of losing this. It’s also a part of why he hates himself. Too pathetic to cut it off. How could he ever hope to get over himself when he refuses to give up something as small as this.

Briefly, he wonders if he’s a masochist. It’s like ignoring a limb that’s gone rotten. He keeps Yuji as close as he can when he knows he ought to cut it off at the source. Or at least drown the thing in peroxide. The sepsis has set in and yet here he is; laying back onto his bunched up pillows with Yuji curled against his side, head resting over his heartbeat. Megumi knows he should make him go. Yuji’s hair smells like citrus and ginseng, and sometimes when he exhales there’s the smallest noise that he doesn’t seem to notice. Megumi should make Yuji leave, yet he can’t. He just lets it fester. Fester and fester.

God. What a coward.

Megumi closes his eyes, grimacing. Every inhale brings a whiff of Yuji’s bright shampoo. The bottle that he stole from Megumi two months ago and never returned. His big fat head is heavy too. His cheek rests right atop Megumi’s left pec, while the rest of his overgrown self curls around him like a string of clinging ivy. One heavy arm slings over Megumi’s stomach, occasionally springing up to help gesticulate Yuji’s comments featuring a very bad New Jersey accent. He has the worst habit of talking with his hands. As if his words aren’t loud enough. Which is a ridiculous notion, of course. Yuji is always loud.

Big and loud. Emphasis on the first word. In reality, a twin is nearly too small for Megumi alone. But with the two of them? It’s positively cramped and it pays no favors to the multitude of crises that Megumi is fighting through. For better or for worse (definitely worse, in Megumi’s humble opinion), Yuji finds a way for them to fit. His broad back pressed flush against the wall, laying on his side where he’s curled around Megumi despite how ridiculous it must look. The biggest man alive curled up like a princess on his chest.

Ridiculous, Megumi thinks, And he’s like a fucking heated blanket.

Yuji gives a dramatic sigh. Then, he rubs his face against Megumi’s shirt. The hell? Is he trying to wipe his drool off on me or something?

Megumi ignores him. Or attempts to. Despite how hard he wants to pretend none of this is actually happening. Yuji is just… there . Big, heavy and so, so warm. Sometimes his blunt fingertips will twitch unconsciously against Megumi’s waist and it takes all the power in his body to keep breathing slow and even. His only hope at this point is to ignore it until he inevitably gets acclimated.

Then, there’s another long, heavy sigh. Megumi can feel the heat of Yuji’s exhale against his shirt, as he does another strange wriggle against him, like he’s trying to startle off a bug.

“What?” Megumi snaps just as Yuji is halfway through another big inhale.

Yuji heaves his big sigh anyways. Then, he’s tilting his head to look directly up at Megumi. He’s pouting. Megumi clenches his jaw in a sudden rush of irritation. He hates it when Yuji does this. It’s like his eyes magnify. Horrifying if it wasn’t so disgustingly cute.

“Oh… nothing.”

“Great.” Megumi’s gaze returns to the screen.

“It’s only just that…“ Yuji deflates against him, sighing again. His fingers tug at where the fabric of Megumi’s shirt bunches around the waist. “Oh, nevermind.”

Megumi closes his eyes briefly, calming himself. “You’re being insane. What the fuck are you sighing about?”

Yuji is about to sigh again but stops when he catches a particularly impatient look from the other boy. His lips purse again, the pout returning. Not that it ever left. “I was just thinking about how nice it feels when somebody plays with your hair.”

Megumi blinks at him. There’s a long beat of silence that stretches out between them. He watches Yuji’s throat bob while two milfs on screen start a cat fight. “Okay.”

You could kick him out , Megumi helpfully reminds himself, as if that’s actually something he’s ever had the power to do. Spoiler alert: it’s not.

“Could you play with my hair?”

“No.”

Yuji gives an offended scoff. “Why not?”

“I don’t need to have a reason. You’re not a stupid baby.”

Yuji’s fingers curl around Megumi’s waist. Warmth blooms across his rib cage, head blanking to pretty much everything but the feeling. He’s pretty sure Yuji does it by accident too. Just an oblivious squeezing of his palm against whatever rests beneath it. Which just so happens to be Megumi.

“Why should stupid babies be the only ones to get their heads’ pet? Maybe I could be a stupid baby. How would you know?” Yuji mumbles, voice verging on whiny like it does when he’s tired and wants something. In all the time they’ve known each other, he’s only seen it work on one person.

“Fine. Just shut up.” Megumi exhales, reluctantly setting a hand atop Yuji’s head.

“ Yes.” Yuji cheers under his breath, preening under the touch as he nuzzles his cheek back against Megumi’s chest. “I am so quiet. It’ll be like petting a dog.”

Megumi scoffs, staring down at his own fingers threaded between tufts of silky pink. “It already is.”

“ Hey—”

Megumi flicks his ear. “Shut up.”

It’s not like petting a dog at all, actually. It’s just like petting the very needy, very handsome, and very irritating Itadori Yuji. Megumi wasn’t paying the show much attention to begin with, but now it all but fades into the background. A muddling of voices and dramatic sound effects that play second fiddle to the sound of his nails gently brushing over his scalp and every sigh so soft it’s almost silent. He wonders how Yuji’s hair is so soft. How every part of him is soft. Yet sharp. A meshing of two extremes into one perfect state being. Megumi isn’t sure whether it’s a curse to be so close but so far, or a blessing to have one part of him. A single, small, quiet moment.

Eventually, Yuji’s fingers loosen in his shirt. They slowly slide off his side until his hand hangs limply off the edge of the bed, heavy like a belt across his stomach. There are no more eye-roll worthy comments about the stilettos and petty drama from the reality style interviews. No more laughs so hearty that they echo right through Megumi’s bones. In the corner of the room, a clock face ticks slowly past midnight. Yuji falls asleep so gently. It would have been easy to miss if Megumi wasn’t already so fixated on everything he does.

It’s not the first time they’ve done this. That they’ve shared this sad slab of mattress until Megumi gets overwhelmed enough to kick him into the hall. Yuji used to make jokes about how mad it makes him. Megumi's face is always all red and sputtering by the time he gets fed up. Of course, that’s because Yuji is blissfully unaware of everything leading up to that moment. The spirals he falls down as he listens to the sound of Yuji’s breathing.

Megumi tucks a strand of hair out of Yuji’s delicately closed eyes. The pad of his thumb follows the ridge of his sovereign brow-line. It sweeps along the soft, freckled skin beneath his feathered lashes. So light it could have never been there at all.

His chest hurts. As if it’s been hollowed out. Why does he keep doing this to himself? All his life, he’s never been so helpless as he is in all the moments like this. Yuji, close to him. It’s in the moments where he is all too painfully aware of the distance. That Yuji is actually out of reach.

It just… hurts.

Megumi tears his gaze away and closes the lid of his laptop before setting it aside. Moonlight casts across the floorboards from the slats in the windowpane, layering milky shapes across the rise and fall of Yuji’s chest. A cloudy sort of moon. It looks like it might rain. Maybe he should just slip out of his arms and sleep on the floor. Or better yet kick Yuji out entirely and reclaim his bedroom.

Instead, Megumi inches down his pillows with deliberate care not to wake him. It’s sickeningly intimate. Yuji’s head moves from his heart to his shoulder, so that his nose is ever so lightly grazing his neck. His heavy arm cradles around Megumi’s chest like he’s clutching onto something precious. As if they’ve been married for years and sharing covers at the beginning each night is as universal in truth that the sun will rise in the morning. It’s almost easy to pretend just for a moment— Megumi stops himself. He cuts that entire line of thinking and throws it out.

He glances down to his own chest. Where Yuji’s bicep stretches the worn cotton of his graphic t-shirt, and Megumi finds his fingers moving of their own accord. He trails a light touch from the top of Yuji’s shoulder, down the sleeping muscle to the place over his rib cage where his large, warm hand splays. Their fingers interlace. Megumi hesitates at the feeling of their calluses brushing against each other. The pads of his fingers over the knuckle-bones and tendons. All the people these hands have helped. All the lives they’ve saved with strength and grit and kindness.

A sudden surge of affection has Megumi closing his own fingers around them, clutching that hand in a delicate but desperate grasp. Even in his sleep, Yuji’s hand so softly squeezes him back.

I hate you , Megumi clenches his jaw tight as he pulls Yuji’s hand to his own cheek. Just to press his face into the rough palm and feel the warmth. His eyes squeeze shut. Yuji’s hand holds the side of his face, held there by Megumi’s own. He hates himself more for not being able to resist the shadow of a moment where it feels like someone is in love with him too.

It was easier to fall asleep than Megumi thought it was going to be. In fact, he can’t remember the last time he slept like that. Like a kid. Warm and safe and deep enough in sleep to escape dreaming.

The same cannot be said for Yuji.

Yuji thought he remembered the detention center. And he did. Sort of. The problem with forgetting is that you don’t know what you’ve forgotten until it hits you. Until it rises from the depths of your subconscious like a blade of ice, and ribbons your subconscious apart. The fears are what linger. Yuji never forgot how to be afraid of the sight of his own blood. Or the wrongness of knowing your body is being used without your permission.

Now, Yuji remembers the source of the nightmare.

Megumi looked so much younger then. There was still baby fat in his cheeks and a lankiness to his limbs that was waiting on the rest of his growth spurt to even out. That’s not what Yuji finds himself focused on. It comes in flashes. More feeling than nonfiction. More blood than memory. The white wolf on the wall. The outrage in Megumi’s eyes when Yuji told him to go. He didn’t want to leave him. Yuji didn’t want to die. They were just kids who couldn’t find another way. He remembers the lone wolf howl from outside the cursed womb as he let Sukuna in.

Even now, he can feel it. The pit in his chest. A cavern carved through the space between his ribs, torn through the sinew and tendon. Every artery rendered mute. The valves and pistons drumming slowly, then still. Lungs with no air to swallow.

Megumi. The last person he saw before making peace with death. The last words.

The final goodbye. One more smile. Blood between the teeth.

Yuji wakes up gasping. Sweat clings to every inch of his body. As if he’s been thrown onto the top rack of a broiling oven. The collar of his shirt chokes as his hands clamber and plaster to the skin above his heart. He tears it off completely as he claws out of the bed and stumbles to the center of the room.

His breath won’t catch up to him. A gasping, wretched, choppy hiccup of inhales. Yuji keeps patting the flesh over his heart. As if a hole might appear. As if that Megumi might appear before him once again, tears glimmering in his eyes. I was lying. Yuji can’t imagine himself saying the words now. I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to die.

“Yuji?”

The next breath catches at the sleep-drunk sound of another voice in the chasm of night. Every attempt to think just spins. As if his head is on a microwave platter. Spinning and spinning. Melting to nothing but panic and the fragments better left forgotten.

Yuji feels like he’s losing it. Hot tears burn at the corners of his eyes. He’s been close to death too many times to count. That’s what he’s always planned for. A death worth while. Death for someone else. Death for Megumi. To be the hero. The martyr. If he has to die to end Sukuna, then he should make it worthwhile.

That was always the goal. The sooner the better. The less it would hurt everyone else. The less it would hurt Megumi.

Then, Sukuna was defeated. And Yuji didn’t have to die.

Now… Now none of it makes sense anymore. Every fractured piece of memory that returns only gives him more questions.

“Yuji.” Megumi speaks his name so softly, just as a warm hand squeezes his shoulder. “It’s okay.”

Yuji finally looks at him. Through a veil of tears and starlight casting through the window, he looks like an angel. Too perfect to be real. To be his . An echo of the boy he saved all those years ago. The boy that saved him. Those eyes green as desire. The leaf of every flower. The thorn and the rose. Sharp and soft and beautiful all at once. Sometimes looking directly into Megumi’s gaze squeezes his lungs in a fist. But right now, it feels as though he can breathe again.

When he exhales, it trembles, catching on the last lingering sobs. Yuji buries himself against the boy who saved him. Arms wrap around his waist and hand fist the back of his shirt, clutching Megumi closer. Yuji sinks his face into the crook of his neck and just breathes.

Ginseng and citrus. The same shampoo that sits in the corner of his shower. There’s more to his smell than the products he wears. Deeper than the skin and sweat. Yuji draws a deep breath against his neck and the panic begins to ebb. The despair simmers to a quiet hum. A bearable pain. A blade that dulls. He knows this body. Something, somewhere deep inside his marrow. He knows him.

“You’re okay.” Megumi whispers, the breath of his words brushing the hair around his ear. Slowly, those hands hold him too. A soothing circle strokes his shoulder blades. A palm curls around the nape of his neck and Yuji is held.

At first, Yuji cries harder. He tightens his hold on Megumi until there’s a tiny grunt of surprise. Then, the arms around him tighten too. As if Megumi alone can hold the fracturing pieces of him together. As if there was ever any doubt.

“You’re okay,” Megumi repeats, holding him until it quiets before pulling Yuji back to bed. “Here, sit.”

The bed springs creak as they sit side by side. Megumi is the one to grab his hands this time, squeezing their fingers together tightly until they tingle. Yuji exhales slowly, steady this time. Numb blankets over the sharp points of the pain until it goes fuzzy. He stares down at his lap. At the sight of their hands folded together and the tip of Megumi’s thumb stroking across the root of his palm. No hesitation. No cold shoulder.

It hits Yuji with a new sense of clarity how Megumi touches him in this moment without thinking. As if the sight of Yuji crying leaves no room for any action; any thought, but drying the tears.

When he finally lifts his gaze, Megumi is watching him. Owlish eyes that scan his every move and stare unblinkingly. Maybe it would be unnerving to anyone but him. Yuji knows him well enough by now to tell when Megumi is worried. In some strange way, it makes him happy.

“I’m okay.” Yuji cracks a grin that feels like styrofoam. “Just a bad dream.”

Megumi’s brow quirks downwards into a furrow that matches the tight press of his lips. A signature micro-expression of annoyance. Or maybe more accurately, annoyance masking something else.

“I’ve never seen you cry like that.” Megumi finally breaks their stare, frowning at the other side of the room, before facing him again. “What was it about?”

Yuji’s mouth twitches into a strained smile as another wave of panic washes through him. An instant deflection. He looks away as he feels his own facade crumbling, afraid that Megumi will see right through him.

Megumi lets them sit in silence for a moment before adding on with a softer voice, “We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I—” Yuji cuts himself with a deep breath. He looks down at their hands once more, before shifting his gaze to the outline of forget-me-nots on the windowsill. “Do you remember one of our first missions as a team? The detention center?”

Beside him, Megumi goes rigid and draws a tight breath in through his nose.

“I think it was a memory— No, I know it was,” Yuji continues, voice nearly quiet enough to be drowned by the rain plinking against the window panes, “I thought I knew what happened before, but then I remembered all the pieces with you. I don’t— I don’t know why that made it hurt so much more?”

Yuji laughs wryly. A lonely, stricken sound. He kneads the flesh over his heart, imagining the ridges of the scar through the fabric of his shirt.

Megumi doesn’t speak. Instead, he just holds Yuji’s hand between his own.

“It feels a little silly now. Saying it out loud. I mean, I’m still kicking and Sukuna isn’t. Go me , I guess, but for a second it just… It felt so real.” Yuji looks back at Megumi and finds those dark, dark wells of green a little mistier than he expected. It makes his heart lurch. So, he smiles and tries to say something lighter. Something to make him laugh. “I’m pretty sure it was before we started dating too. Man, it would have sucked ass to die a virgin.”

Yuji starts laughing at his joke, but it dies off at the look on Megumi’s face. The lines between his furrowed brows and his lips parted just barely in an expression of pure, utter confusion. Or less than confusion and more like the physical embodiment of ‘what the fuck are you talking about?’

“Before we started dating.” Megumi’s voice is flat.

“ Yes ,” Yuji begins with feigned exasperation, “Before we…” then trails off with their faces just inches apart. They lock eyes. Unblinking.

Oh.

Oh.

Suddenly the world makes sense.

All this time. All the hurt and confusion and building, building, overwhelming frustration of never knowing what to do or what to say. Yuji grabs his own mouth as the shock of it hits. After all this time, it clicks.

Megumi stares at him with careful intensity, voice calculatingly neutral, “What do you mean?”

A strange sound escapes Yuji from behind his hand. A rush of air like a bark. Or like he just got socked in the stomach. It has Megumi’s face warping into a look of quiet fear that he’s made Yuji start crying again, before the other boy falls back onto the mattress— cackling .

He’s laughing. Pure, obnoxiously unfiltered laughing. The self-chastising kind. On the cornerstone of pure bewilderment and joy.

“God,” Yuji exhales, covering his face with his hands as he lets out a few more breathless chuckles, “I am a fucking idiot.”

Megumi’s jaw ticks as he stays rigidly in place, watching Yuji with sharp eyes. He looks like a cornered fox. Observant and methodical, yet there’s that animal panic behind the eyes. “ Itadori—”

“I knew.” Yuji splays his fingers to look at Megumi between them. A dumb smile curls across his lips. “I’ve known since the beginning. One of the first things Kugisaki said was that you were my boyfriend, and Gojo showed me a picture of you and I was just like, holy shit what! that I was even dating someone as pretty as you that I guess I never thought to think about if you knew that I knew. I didn’t really think about anything past being mad at myself, I guess. That I had even forgotten you in the first place.”

Megumi blinks down at him. A sheet of pure stone. Yuji wants to know what he’s thinking so badly it makes his heart pound. Suddenly, Megumi turns his head away, profile shadowed as his fingers curl into tight fists in his lap.

“So. Gojo and Kugisaki told you that we were dating?” His voice is medical, like a doctor assessing an affliction. Completely flat. “And so this entire time you thought that…” He takes a breath. “Itadori. That’s not really how things are. I think that— I— We—”

Yuji watches as the words come out tighter, and Megumi’s hands wring and wring together like his fingers are trying to form a great big knot of senseless worry. Megumi is still trying to find a problem— because of course he is. All at once, Yuji finds himself exasperated and utterly horribly fond. Maybe it’s his turn to offer some small comfort. Especially now knowing that this is real. That it’s more than daydreams and figments of fiction that Megumi wants him too.

“Hey,” Yuji leans into Megumi and reaches out a hand, cupping the side of his jaw as he tilts it back towards himself. His skin is soft. Warm. It feels like touching a live wire when the person at the end of your fingertips is also someone you desperately want to kiss. “You’re thinking too much.”

“Maybe you’re not thinking at all. Like usual.” Megumi snaps on impulse, but there’s no real bite. Yuji can see the quickened beat of the pulse in pale neck. Overthinking. Always trying to complicate the simplest thing there is in life.

Those eyes find him in the dark. Kiwi flavored lightning bolts. And god— god— sometimes it really is like being struck. All alone in a field of golden grass that writhes in the black and blue wind, nowhere for the flash to strike but him. Blinding. Flashbang. Beautiful. Yuji reaches up with another hand to cup his cheek, because something in those eyes says, I’m scared, even as the rest of him tenses like there’s a fight to be won.

“Itadori.” His voice wavers, baritone deep in the nacre shell of quiet. “I need to tell you something that’s very difficult to say.”

“Me too.” Yuji doesn’t let go. He doesn’t look away.

A strange feeling flutters in his chest. The borderline of familiar comfort and foreign unease. That infinitesimal space that divides oil and water. As if he’s done something like this before. Déjà vu. It flickers to the back of his mind as he thinks instead of how much he likes the sight of Megumi’s face cradled in his hands and the soft divots in his cheeks where his thumbs rest. He watches as that worried mouth parts every so slightly, around a word or two that don’t come. As if Megumi is clawing for some kind of way to create a grave from the words Yuji leaves unspoken.

So, Yuji decides to speak.

“I almost thought you hated me, you know.”

Megumi’s mouth closes. His throat bobs as he swallows. Even now, it’s so clear he’s trying so hard to stay collected. But this time, Yuji sees right through it. That took him by surprise.

“What— that’s so stupid, I—”

“—I know, I know.” Yuji exhales a quiet laugh, thumb brushing along the sharp ridge of his cheek bone. Such a pretty face. Even beneath the skin. Right down to the bone. “Shut up, I know it’s dumb. I know I’m dumb. That’s what makes this so hard to believe sometimes, you know?”

Megumi doesn’t move any closer. But, he doesn’t pull away.

“Even if I remember everything a day or an hour or a year from now, I’ll never forgive myself for forgetting you. I know it hurt. I saw it. I thought this whole time you were treating me like a stranger because you were angry. Or upset. Or whatever it doesn’t matter now.” Yuji scrunches his eyes shut, shaking the notion away, before knocking his forehead against Megumi’s, “Now, I get it. I finally get it. You thought I didn’t know what we were and you didn’t want to tell me because you wanted me to choose you again, right?”

Megumi’s eyes are so wide that Yuji feels dizzy. As if he could fall right in and drown forever. The only indication that Megumi is even hearing him at all is the way his breathing quickens. Sharp, jolted inhales that catch in the throat.

“Well. I choose you.” Yuji whispers. “Again and again and again and again and—”

Megumi jerks away. He stumbles onto his feet to stand with his back to Yuji. His fingers curl into the side of his shorts. Clenching into a fist, releasing, then clenching again. The moonlight illuminates his silhouette like the vase on the desk with all its blue flowers. Yuji watches the quiet rise of his shoulders with every breath as he crosses his arms, holding himself.

A moment ago, it felt like he was carrying stars in his pockets. As if his chest was brimming with tiny yellow helium balloons. Megumi took a pin to each and every one and turned away as his heart dropped to the floor. It stings. It felt like he had solved the mystery. Found the missing quotient to make it stick. To make Megumi realize this isn’t a game to him. There’s a point though where the rejection hurts a little too much to push through.

“Did I do something wrong?” Yuji can’t stop the crackling in his voice. The cautious way he whispers it, as if defeat hangs on a thread so fine it could snap if his words ring sharp. “I don’t understand. I just… I just want to understand. Please.”

Choose him? Choose him?

Again. Again. Again.

Megumi’s head feels like feedback screeching over an intercom. Radio static from every single station all condensed into one scribbling, scratching, terrible noise. There’s a million things he would like to do right now. Walk away, for one. Get away from all of this feeling. All this… this feeling . Too much awfulness for one body to contain. He wants to string Gojo and Kugisaki up by their necks for all of this. There’s a big part of him that wants to start screaming. Specifically at Yuji, because no, you didn’t choose me.

You never did. You never will. This whole thing— Every single hello, goodbye and especially I choose you, is all apart of the lie. One incredible, grand joke for him to be the butt of thanks to the fickle whims of the universe at large and his sorry choice in friends. He could almost laugh if he wasn’t so close to crying. He would cry if he wasn’t angry enough to feel the heat of his own blood.

Megumi knew better than to hope. He has always known better than to hope. He knew— he fucking knew and still . Still, he had been so close to fooling himself into hoping that they could have something. Be something.

He closes his eyes and draws a steadying breath. Idiot .

Every touch that lingered a little too long. That dewy brown-eyed stare always searching for him in every room. The smile. The pink on Yuji’s cheeks in the changing room. The conviction in every little confession; every time Yuji whispered I’m going to remember when he thought that Megumi couldn’t hear. Every sign of desire. Of wanting. It’s just a lie, isn’t it? It’s all something that Yuji was told to want. What he was supposed to do.

His chest hurts. As if it’s been hollowed out.

Idiot. Megumi keeps his back to Yuji so he can’t see the way his face screws up while his eyes burn. How could I be such a fucking idiot?

He wishes there was some way to blame Yuji. A way to spin all this ache and misery as his doing. A single perpetrator acting alone who is now conveniently easy to hate. Then he could stop all this wanting that brings nothing but pain. What a dream that would be. But his heart knows better than to blame Yuji. Even if it could find a way to hate him, it could never forget how to want him.

The clock-hand ticks. Rain drums the windowpane. Megumi can hear his heartbeat thumping against the inside of his skull. His hands clench at his side as Yuji’s voice burns into his brain like a handprint in the snow.

I want to understand.

Please.

Megumi has to tell him the truth. There’s no other choice.

The bed creaks behind him. Megumi turns around to find Yuji right there. Too close. Close enough to reach out and touch. There’s a lone voice in his head, the one that aches with hurt, that cries to hold his hand again. Megumi doesn’t move. A voice of reason tells him to step away. Megumi doesn’t move. He just can’t.

The rain-drunk moonlight makes Yuji’s skin glow from the inside out. His eyes are always so dark. So warm and inviting like the secret pocket of space beneath the covers. They have a way of reflecting the world, capturing every pale light and holding them in sap like a night full of stars. He looks even softer tonight. His eyes are still a little puffy from crying. The little frown on his crooked mouth and the crease in his forehead make Megumi want to run. To scream.

Anything to make Yuji stop looking at him like that .

Megumi doesn’t move. Instead, he can only watch as Yuji’s lips part and press together again in the form of an ‘m’, before he begins again. “Fushiguro…” Yuji swallows. It makes his heartbeat skitter. “Do you even want to be with me?”

He may as well have been punched in the stomach with the way his body blanks. Resets. Every semblance of thought scatters to the four corners of the earth, leaving him with nothing but the same suffocating panic that always brims at the edge of his cup.

How dare he? A snap of outrage ignites his blood so hot that nausea follows. How dare he ask that after all this time? After making Megumi feel so… so wrong all those years ago. As if time and hurt and growing up could ever change the answer.

“I want you to leave.” Megumi can’t look at him as he says it. The flash of anger fades and pangs into something sour and lonely. The truth can come later. Megumi can’t fucking think with him so close.

“I don’t want to.”

“—I don’t care!” Megumi barks, scoffing as if the audacity of Yuji’s words is what has upset him. As if he could be upset by Yuji at all. He grits his teeth to keep his eyes from burning. This idiot. He shakes his head, still unable to look him in the eyes. This stupid, selfish, ignorant idiot . “I don’t care what you want, okay?”

It’s cruel. Cruel in ways that Megumi has never experienced at the hands of a curse. Everything he’s ever wanted is right in front of him. The thing he’s always wanted. To have his face held by those warm, warm hands. To be looked at like he’s somebody. Yuji . Wanting doesn’t seem like a strong enough word for this gaping pit inside him that hums with the sound of his voice and beats like a heart in the shape of his silhouette. And here it is. That thing. That abstract theorem of love and desire and all the things human beings are built to care about. It’s right in front of him, asking if Megumi really truly wants that.

Of course. Of course he does. But it’s all wrong.

It’s not even real.

“Megumi.” The sound of his name on Yuji’s voice makes him flinch. There’s a moment where he flashes back to that day. Gangly, baby-faced Yuji frowning as he took back his first name and never let him say it since.

Fingers brush against his fist. It unravels against his own will, and Yuji takes hold of his hand. Megumi clenches his jaw tight as he tries to convince himself to pull away. He can’t. Yuji takes that as a sign. There’s the sound of him swallowing. Megumi’s eyes flick to the apple of his throat. In the blur of his periphery Yuji’s lips part around a steadying breath.

Yuji’s hand cups his cheek. Warm. Solid. Sweet. Sweeter than anything he’s ever known.

Megumi lifts his eyes as shame threads through him, remembering how he put his cheek into Yuji’s palm while he was sleeping. How could such a hollow gesture ever compare to this? Meeting Yuji’s eyes feels like digging a grave. A soft, wonderful, warm grave.

“Tell me.” Yuji breathes. There’s a shake in the belly of his voice. “Tell me you don’t like me anymore. Or— or that we’re better as friends. Or whatever it is. I can take it. Just tell me and I’ll go.”

Megumi reaches up to pull Yuji’s hand away. His fingers curl around the bone of his wrist but falter. There’s no comparison to be made. No metaphor. The thought of pulling away from Yuji is like breaking his own heart. The hold on his wrist tightens until Megumi’s knuckles go pale.

There’s a rawness in Yuji’s gaze that he can’t bear. So Megumi shuts his eyes. Every piece of him feels like its at war. Bursting with wonder and joy and the pure unbridled giddiness of having Yuji simply hold him like more than a brother, while it all splinters apart. Feeling this much should kill you. So Megumi scrunches his eyes shut as they burn behind his eyelids. Humiliation rips through him as his bottom lip trembles. Like a child fighting the inevitable tears.

“I can’t.” Megumi breathes the confession, fracturing the second syllable as Yuji’s thumb brushes away a tear in the corner of his eye.

He told the truth. Just not the right truth.

“Good.” Yuji brings his other hand up, enclosing his face between both hands like he’s holding somebody who deserves him. “Then don’t.”

That’s when Yuji kisses him.

It’s like biting into a star.

You’re not supposed to do that, by the way. Stars are composed mainly of hydrogen and helium fusing at the core and chasing each other in a chemically chained blaze that burns over ten thousand degrees— which would kill most people before they even get the chance to come close, let alone kiss. That’s what Yuji thought was going to happen. That he was going to take his bite and every hope he’s ever had would erupt in a pillar of solar flame. What actually happens is far more poetic.

Their lips meet with a spark. A burst of something so wonderful it has no name. Yuji doesn’t just see stars, he can feel them. A million bursts of light coursing through his veins and popping like strawberry pearls. This is what it means to have the world fall away. To have everything fall away. Everything but the heat of Megumi’s skin and the way his heart burns itself into blissful oblivion when his waist is gripped hard and their bodies click together as Megumi kisses him back.

Megumi kisses him back.

Megumi kisses him back.

Yuji inhales hard against the skin of his cheek as they fuse together. Helium and hydrogen. The core of something miraculous and volatile. It feels like the very first time. Even though they must have been here a hundred times before. Megumi clutches onto him like it could end at any moment. As if this kiss is the first and the last.

He forgets what had even stopped them before. Yuji forgets to think about anything beyond filling every gap between them with his own body. Megumi’s hands slide up his chest with a deep, hungry desperation before his arms wind around the back of Yuji’s neck, clutching him with all the strength in his well-trained arms. They push into each other, frantic and clumsy, until Megumi’s back hits the wall hard enough to make the picture frames rattle.

Megumi makes a noise against his open mouth. A soft mm . The sound of it makes his skin buzz. Desire shoots up Yuji’s spine. A warmth that blooms in every part of him. I did that , Yuji smiles against Megumi’s lips. I made Megumi moan.

They part only to breathe. Lips still brushing against the other. He can feel Megumi’s heartbeat against his own chest. He can feel every part of him actually and still it doesn’t seem quite close enough. A little smile curls at the corners of his mouth as he leans back in to nip at Megumi’s bottom lip.

A fist immediately clenches his hair, tipping his head back as Megumi levels him with a steely stare. As if he’s being warned for misbehaving.

Yuji’s heart hammers as he exhales, turned on beyond belief. “ So cool.”

“Shut up.” Megumi huffs, releasing his hold to slide his fingers through his undercut before cupping the nape of his neck. He stares at Yuji. There’s something somber in that gaze. A tension in his jaw that won’t slack.

Yuji’s thumbs brush his cheekbones, still holding Megumi’s face like he very well may be the center of the universe. Megumi knows where Yuji is going to kiss him before each one with the way his eyes shift there and linger before they close when he leans in. The corners of his mouth. The nose. The soft skin beneath his eyes.

He tries to kiss away the look of pain, but it only seems to grow deeper with every kiss.

Yuji smiles faintly, searching for a sliver of praise as he whispers, “Was it as good as you remember?”

Megumi feels like scum. Probably because he is.

It’s no small feat to have the best and worst night of your life happen all at once. He’ll have to thank Kugisaki before he strangles her to death. Though, with the way Yuji looks at him it’ll be a miracle if he makes it to the morning.

What more is there to say? Megumi has never hated himself quite like he does right now. He could have told Yuji everything. We were never dating. Kugisaki and Gojo were fucking with you and just decided to let it ride. Sorry that you think you’re in love with me now, I’m sure you will get over it after you cut me out from your life completely. Win some, lose some I guess! It would have been horrible, but at least it would have been over. Megumi could still tell him. Should tell him. Kissing you was actually better than I remember because it’s never happened, haha. We were never actually together and I let you kiss me anyways. I couldn’t even stop myself from kissing you back because I’m fucking spineless for you, sorry!

Megumi has no idea what Yuji would do. How he would even begin to react. Especially now that they’ve actually kissed . I mean, god , he literally admitted to being unable to tell Yuji that he didn’t want this. That small lie would have saved him from this entire charade.

No, no. He’s being a coward. A coward and a sick, sleazy scumbag that would exploit his best friend’s memories just because kissing him felt so… so good.

The truth, he decides. Even if it ruins everything.

Megumi takes a deep breath and meets Yuji’s gaze once again.

His stomach flutters; the feeling of weightlessness when you hit a bump in the road. Megumi has seen Yuji in every shape and form. All his joy and all his sorrow. In every single season. He thought he had at least.

Yuji watches him with the kind of longing you can only feel in November. When the world is gray. As if Megumi is more than just a person. He’s the April rain and all the May flowers. The summer sunshine and the jeweled lakes of June. Striped scarves of September and the Autumn world crackling beneath your boots as everything is gilded by fall fire. As if Megumi is the thing life revolves around. That’s how Yuji looks at him.

The truth clogs in Megumi’s throat. In the face of that smile so soft Yuji doesn’t even know he’s making it. To say it would mean this would all end. Yuji will never look at him like this again.

Something inside his chest breaks. He can’t. He can’t do it. He’s not strong enough.

“Can we…” Megumi swallows, barely able to speak without fracturing the words, “Can we just pretend like it’s the first time?”

Yuji blinks in surprise. Megumi feels sickened by himself. The cop-out. Feeding the lie.

“Yeah,” Yuji’s smile widens, broadening like clouds parting before sunlight. “I like that. I like that a lot.”

Their noses brush together. Megumi tightens a fist in the collar of Yuji’s shirt as his stomach sinks to the floor. Yuji kisses him again and for a moment Megumi almost forgets that he’s a liar.