Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The screech of the train gliding across the tracks fills Megumi’s ears to remind him that he's not entirely alone. The silence was broken due to the pink-haired boy’s voice. 

“Hi.” 

“I’m sorry?” Megumi looks up at him.

“I just said hi.”

“Hello, you’re saying hi to me?”

“Well, why would I not? We’re just sitting here alone, and I feel like talking to you to break the awkward silence. Is it okay if I sit closer?” The pink-haired boy asks without receiving an answer, then moves to the seat in front of Megumi. He kneels on the chair, facing the black-haired man. 

“Sure, why not?” He tries to mimic the other young man's tone but fails because his voice isn’t as optimistic-sounding. His body tenses up when the other young man moves closer to him. He grabs his notebook, shutting it slowly. 

“So, where are you heading off to?” 

“I’m just heading home.”

“Where is this so-called home?” 

“Tokyo,” Megumi said without thinking about how this guy is a total stranger.

“No way! I’m heading to Tokyo too. I only came to Sendai to visit some of the old places I used to go to a lot as a kid.” His eyes lit up like a dog, not like Kuro or Kon, but the occasional golden retriever he gets at the Vet. The ones so happy to be there, even if they’re about to get a shot, or even being prepped for a surgery. However, his sudden excitement startles Megumi, who is not used to this kind of energy from a stranger. 

“Oh, what a coincidence.”

“Really, what are the odds?” The boy laughs to himself, relaxes, then perks back up. “Do I know you?”

Megumi shakes his head no.

“Do you visit and buy books at a bookstore in the middle of Tokyo frequently?”

“I mean, if it’s Tsutaya Books, then yeah, I go there every once in a while when I have free time.” Megumi is surprised that he could even remember its name when put on the spot like that.

“Oh my god. Shut up! That’s definitely where I’ve seen you before. I’m working there while I intern at a local Fire Station.” He lets out a trapped sigh, relaxing again in his chair. Keeping himself still raised enough for Megumi to see him, he rests his head on the side of the train. “I don’t like reading at all, but the pay is something, and my boss, Nanamin, is chill.”

Megumi holds onto every word he says, like it’s the last thing he’ll do before he realizes how boring Megumi really is. It scares him that this pink-haired boy might leave him here when he gets tired of his dry responses. One part of him wishes he would leave him be, but another likes this comforting noise, drowning out the silence that once suffocated his ears. “Really? I feel like I would have remembered you.”

“Could be what I wear.”

“What do you mean by that?” 

“I kind of color-code my mood. Like, depending on how I feel that day. So, without thinking about what I’m wearing in the morning, I let my feelings guide me. Does that even make sense? Probably not.” He sits back up and rocks back and forth in his place. He glances at Megumi’s outfit and looks into his eyes. 

Cold jade peered out from the shadows cast on his face. His green eyes weren’t dirty, but a clean, cold shade. They looked like real emeralds embedded in his body. Those lashes, unfairly long and framing his crystal green eyes perfectly. Hair dark and spiked up in perfect points, black like a starless night; silky soft from the sight alone.

Megumi sighed, “I feel like I would have remembered you, even if you changed what color you’re wearing.” 

“Then–Maybe it’s the tattoos.”

“Tattoos?”

The young man sat up a bit so Megumi could see his arm better. He rolled up his sleeve to reveal a huge tattoo. It looked like a burst of black electricity, outlined in red. The pink-haired man grabbed his bicep; you could tell he was athletic, and it felt like he was now flexing his toned muscles.

“Now you’re just flexing.”

“Am not,” the man said, rolling his sleeve down and slumping back into his seat. “You’re supposed to say, ‘are too’ , after, but I’ll let the silence slide. I got that piece a month ago, however, I barely remember getting it done; it’s all kind of a blur.” 

Megumi had some tattoos too, nothing flashy like this guy's, but he liked them. A white serpent snake with black markings on one of his collarbones–it appeared as if it was swerving in and out of his skin. On his left wrist, a carnation, two flowers twisting into one stem, writing his sister’s name, Tsumiki. Megumi had two dog-related tattoos. In remembrance of his late dog, Shiro, his paw print on his right wrist. On his same arm, but on his shoulder: a white and black dog circling each other–like yin and yang. All simple, and perfect, and exactly what Megumi wanted. He did want to try and get a sleeve at some point, but had no idea what to do for it.

It was quiet after that. Megumi had nodded in response, and the man rolled his sleeve up and relaxed back in his chair.

Pinky–that’s the name Megumi gave him, thanks to his rosy hair–just stared at the black haired man. Watching him, examining his body, taking him in. Thinking, maybe, his face looks too focused for there not to be anything going on in his head. He breaks his thought, shakes his head, and speaks up. “Did you know Sherlock Holmes wears a trench coat in most of his movies, so a lot of people think of him when they see a trench coat.” 

Megumi blinks, trying to understand what was just spat at him. “I didn’t know that, but thanks for telling me, I guess. I’m not wearing a trench coat, though; it only appears long. Is that what you thought of when you first saw my jacket?”

“Oh!–it just looked like it from here, and maybe I did.” Kissing his teeth and relaxing, not in a relieved way, but instead in an embarrassed kind of relaxation. “But, could you imagine a piece of clothing being well-known because of a movie?” He looks away from the rusty green eyes piercing his own eyes, focusing on the blurry world outside the train window. “I find it fascinating how much impact a single movie can have on something like an article of clothing. If you could make something that is already pretty generic in life, and make it popular, what would it be?” 

“I don’t know, and I really don’t care.”

“Ha–sorry, I forgot not everyone thinks the same way I do. You want to know something completely unrelated to this,” he looks at Megumi, not really expecting a response, but still asking in case. “I want to mean something to people, and I think I care about people more than I care for myself. And, I’ve never told anyone that before. That must mean you’re pretty important.”

“I don’t think that’s quite true,” Megumi says while connecting his hands tightly, feeling drenched in sweat. He doesn’t know how he should respond; he wants to. So, he chooses only one fragment of the conversation, a part that he thought would make the boy feel better. “I’m talking about the part you said, where you care about others more than you do about yourself.”

“Well, you don’t really know me that well, so how would you know?”

“I know, but I just wanted to–you just said I must be pretty important for you to tell me… never mind.” Why should he continue talking if he doesn’t know this guy? A proper way to waste his breath. He looks down and brings his right hand to grab his left shoulder. He shifted in his seat and turned his face away from Pinky. Lips curved into a subtle pout, and his eyes rested on a small crack in the window.

The boy turns back around, plopping himself back into his seat. It’s quiet again; the only sound is the scratch of a train shuddering along the tracks. No voices to interrupt a thought. 

In front of Megumi, the chatty boy was quiet, going through his bag, pulling out Chapstick and band-aids, then shoving them back inside. A small red toy lies at the bottom of the bag, and when he spots it, he lights up. He tries to be delicate with it as he pulls it from the void of his bag. Holding it up like treasure that’s been discarded for too long, and he starts dusting off gunk and hair. Megumi takes notice of the noises, glancing up for just a second before placing his eyes back down to focus on the crack. 

What was I thinking? I should have kept quiet and to myself like always. Stupid little Megumi. Always making dumb yet avoidable decisions. Always trying to find someone who will give any sort of attention that achieves the same feeling of love. What do I know about love anyway? It’s an emotion I never felt when I was with Hana, nor have I  felt it with anyone else. Not this kind of love, at least. I’ve made this guy upset just by trying to be nice, just my–.

His train of thought–more like a train of destruction, one that eats away at his confidence to be a human, and only makes him and everyone around him miserable–is interrupted by the sudden eyes staring into his skin, the movement in front of him now sitting up on his chair. The pink-haired boy stares straight into his being; Megumi even wonders if those eyes of his can read his mind. Holding his hand out to him, that small red trinket rests inside. It resembles an animal, maybe a tiger, and there are small smudges from lying inside nothing but dirt and dust, which had left their mark.

“My grandfather gave this to me when I was just a boy. It’s like a good luck charm,” he says. Bringing the trinket back to himself, and smiling at the memory of his grandfather finding it at work, coming home later that night to leave it on his bedside table. The memory fades, and he’s back to reality. The man in front of him is listening to him and looking at him. The sudden awareness of those piercing green eyes looking at him surges through his body. 

Please never stop looking at me the way you are right now.

“Why are you showing this to me?” Megumi asks while shifting his body back towards the other boy. 

“I thought it would be nice to share with you, you know–?” He stutters off while spacing out as he stares into Megumi’s eyes. “I never formally asked for your name,” he giggles.

“Fushiguro, Fushiguro Megumi.”

“Fushiguro Megumi,” Yuji repeated his name. 

To Megumi, the boy saying his name sounded sweet, like pure sugar. His voice is soft and careful, while also rough. Soothing warmth that comes with the sound of a sharp crack of ice. It wasn't cold, though; it warmed his face and body, and it felt like his words could wrap around him and take away every doubt he ever had. A reassuring voice only found in a movie. The soothing way he spoke Megumi’s name made his skin prick with heat. Never stop saying my name.

“What about you? What’s your name, Pinky?” 

“Well, my name isn’t Pinky. It’s Itadori Yuji. Oh, and no jokes or references to my name.”

“I can’t think of any, so you don’t have to worry.”

“Tiger. Itadori means tiger, and I’ve been referred to as a tiger since I was a kid. I used to be okay with it, but it gets to a point where it becomes too repetitive. Oh, and I’m sorry for how I reacted earlier. I tend to overreact sometimes.” Yuji scratches the back of his head in embarrassment.

“It’s okay, Itadori,” Megumi says his name, and it feels familiar, like his tongue has moved in that motion to annunciate it before. “And Yuji, that means peace and healing, right?” 

“Yeah, but I wouldn’t say I’m very peaceful. I can be pretty rowdy, and I’m not someone who can heal others.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything, scared that it could make Yuji upset again. Instead, he repeats his name at least once, twice, maybe a hundred times in his head.

Yuji. Yuji. Itadori. Itadori Yuji. He looks like an Itadori Yuji.

“Can I ask you something?” Yuji says, ruffling his hair around.

“I don’t see anything that could be stopping you.”

“What you said earlier. What did you mean by that? You said you didn’t believe what I said was true. Why did you say that?” Yuji stares into Megumi’s eyes. 

A man shuffles by, almost tripping as he walks, and then grabs onto the chairs to keep some support from falling. Megumi glances over at the man to try to break the awkward staring contest. Even that doesn’t take away any attention Yuji gives him. 

The question rustles inside Megumi’s mind, it leaves a mark so deep that he could taste it or feel its prodding. “I don’t know, I just wanted to be nice.” Megumi being nice to a stranger is equivalent to the sun staying up forever–it’s unimaginable to ever occur, and if it does, it would only ever end in a disaster. 

“Really? I appreciate that, but you don’t really seem like the type to give out random acts of kindness to strangers.”

“Well, now you’re being a hypocrite,” Megumi scoffs.

“What!? How am I being a hypocrite?” Yuji rises in his chair, on the brink of what looks like he’s about to fall. 

“When I told you I didn’t believe your statement about yourself earlier, you said, I don’t know you.’” Megumi rubs his left arm as he finds the right words so he doesn’t sound off. “And now you’re saying I don’t seem like the kind of person who would be nice to a stranger. But, you don’t even know me, so how would you come to that realization?”

“But I want to know you.” Yuji stares into Megumi’s eyes, holding them tightly with his, hoping they can be engraved into his memories forever. 

“Oh.”

Oh

Megumi could almost feel the mediocre egg sandwich he had this morning trying to escape through his mouth. He swallowed hard, so hard that Yuji definitely noticed how his Adam’s apple bobbed. 

The random kindness of a stranger he just met isn’t something he’s used to. Especially when it’s kindness like this. No one ever really cares to ask Megumi about his day, or his life for that matter. It has always been that way, so that was considered the norm for him. Don’t remember your days, because no one will care to ask about them.  

But now, this man he has just met and barely knows, wants to learn more about him. He wants to figure out who Fushiguro Megumi is, and that’s a new kind of feeling for Megumi.

“Can I sit next to you? I feel too far from you, god, that sounds cheesy,” Yuji says.

“I—” Megumi doesn’t have time to form a single word before Yuji gets up and seats himself right next to him. 

He can see him in full now and not from afar; he looks perfect, even under all those layers. His hair looks soft, those eyes that once stared at him from afar are now closer, and now staring into his eyes fiercely. The citrus with a mix of nature hits Megumi’s nose softly, not too strong and not too subtle, just the perfect amount that won't give him a headache.

Fuck, he’s so close I can smell him. 

It’s not like Megumi thought he would smell bad. And so he readjusts himself in his chair and turns to face Yuji, who is getting comfy in his new seat.

Yuji gets comfortable almost immediately and notices how much closer they are now. His eyelashes are even longer up close, and those eyes have the same sharp, sweet, cold look he noticed earlier. They feel like they’re stinging into Yuji’s skin, a feeling that they could hurt him at any point. But that doesn’t stop him from needing them on him forever. That pain could subside, but never those eyes, simply a one-of-a-kind.

Mahogany and teakwood drift into his nose, it draws him closer to Megumi, and the thought of inhaling him crosses his mind. Breathing in his scent, while imagining what it would be like if he could just hold him forever, until he becomes used to that scent the way one does with their house. Yuji views that image as a positive mark and smiles to himself.

“Why are you smiling?” Megumi asks.

The question came out of nowhere because he didn’t think his cheeky grin was noticeable. And for a small second, his smile grew bigger before he slid his hand over his mouth. 

“No reason”, Yuji's muffled voice says while he looks in the opposite direction of Megumi. “I guess I’m just glad that you chose to be nice to me.”

Megumi looks down, thumbs through his notebook, and then back at Yuji, who’s looking back at him. 

“Oh, yeah, no problem.”

It’s quiet for a while until Yuji kicks his shoes together. 

“Fushiguro, today has been really weird for me. I don’t know how to explain it, and you’ll probably think I’m crazy because of it.” Yuji turns his head to stare forward until he lays his head against the headrest. 

“I don’t think you’re crazy. My day hasn’t been the most normal either,” Megumi moves his hands around, suggesting that his situation right now is not normal at all.

“Really?” He doesn’t say anything, mostly because he gets distracted, but Megumi’s grateful. Because if he had to explain why his day felt off, he’d lose his voice. Instead, Yuji slides closer to Megumi, looking down to notice the small black notebook resting on the other man's lap. “What’s that for?”

Megumi glances down, forgetting that he was sketching some flowers earlier, and he rests his hand on top to stop it from moving. “It’s like a journal, I was writing earlier before you said anything to me,” he lies.

“Oh shit. I’m so sorry. I’ll leave you alone now.” Yuji slowly gets out of his seat before turning back and poking Megumi in the side. Megumi lets out a surprised wail, catching his pen before it slips out of his lap. “See you later, Fushiguro.” 

Megumi grabs at his side, feeling the painful sensation surge through his body, and he watches the pink-haired man move further down the train to a new section. 

He found himself already missing his presence, like a gap was now open and soulless. But Yuji wasn’t as annoying as he thought he would be, and it was more comforting than anything. Feeling as if they could have gotten off together, gotten to know each other more, and even found each other in their own houses at some point. Thoughts like that made Megumi feel a familiar kind of warmth inside, but a warmth that carried stinging pokes of reality. They never lasted long and would always end with him feeling guilty for even wanting anything good for himself–someone like him didn’t deserve to hope for something beneficial. 

His mind is a trap of loathing and discomfort. It was quiet now. He liked the quiet. Before long, that soundless space would feel suffocating, and without a distraction, he would feel like he was dying. He tries to think of something more positive to distract him for the rest of the quiet train ride home.

It won’t be long till I’m back in Tokyo. Back in the comfort of my home, where I get to rest with Kuro and Kon. And, it seems like today wasn’t a total waste of my time.

—

The train stops with a high-pitched screech that could shush an entire crowd of people. Megumi grabs his bag that rests between his legs, he shimmies out of the chair, and starts to move through the invisible crowd. The walkout was easy since barely anyone had gone to Sendai that day. As Megumi starts walking towards his car, a thought finds its way into the space of his mind. Will he see Yuji again, or was it just a one-time encounter? He unlocks his car, tossing his bag into the back, and remembers the noticeable dent left on his car door. 

Sitting in his car for a while, trying to recollect his encounter on the train. Opening his eyes for a second, and caught onto some pink hair being swayed by the wind. It was later in the day now, practically night, and the weather wasn’t walking-home type. Megumi sat up to see if he could get a better look and maybe see if it was Yuji.

Starting the car and trying to slowly, subtly make his way to who he thinks is Yuji. By the magic of his just thinking about Yuji, he was there again, walking away from the train station. Something in Megumi compels him to drive up to him and ask if he needs a ride home, but another part of him doesn’t want Yuji to think he’s some weird stalker or something creepy like that. Megumi swallows his nerves, chooses the first option, and drives towards Yuji. He rolls his window just enough to be visible and audible, but also enough to keep the cold out of the comfort of his warm car. 

“Hey! I could give you a ride or something?” Megumi calls out to Yuji, who turns towards the voice almost immediately.

“You are one shitty stalker,” Yuji calls out to Megumi, continuing to walk on the sidewalk. 

“Well, do you want a ride or not?” 

Yuji looks around for anyone who might witness this kidnapping happening in the middle of nowhere. He breathes in and stretches his leg forward, “Yeah!” He makes a run for it toward Megumi’s car and practically jumps into the passenger seat. “So where are you taking me, Mr. Stalker?”

“I’m not a stalker, and you talked to me first, and I was just going to take you home–if that’s not a problem with you,” Megumi says as he locks the car again and starts to drive out of the train station parking lot. 

“Okay… But like it's Stalker 101, I thought all stalkers would have to read some book first, and I don’t mind Mr. Stalker,” Yuji says.

“I haven’t read anything like that, and I only read non-fiction anyway, not how-tos. But if you think I’m some kind of stalker, I just might have to read it.”

“Oh yes, Mr. Stalker, it’s quite the read. I’m surprised it hasn’t piqued your interest yet.” 

“You make it sound like you’ve read it.” 

“What–nooooo. I’m a good civilian.” Yuji scoots closer to the passenger window, shifting his entire head to watch all the events unfolding outside. 

It’s quiet now since Megumi didn’t know how to respond. Now, keeping his focus on driving, the only thing being heard is the click-click-clicking of his turn signals and the small remarks Yuji gives to direct him where to go. Other than that, it’s dead silent, and the radio is not playing trashy one-hit wonders.

Megumi’s car wasn’t super old, but it wasn’t new either. He got it when he was still in high school, so it wasn’t some electric car with a screen or heated seats that made you feel like you’re in a sauna. It still had a CD player, which was unusable because there was a CD of Dookie by Green Day stuck in there since he was a teenager, and a tape deck. One of the handles in the back was bent for no reason, his ventilations were clogged with dust, and not to mention the mysterious dent on the passenger door that Yuji definitely noticed.

The new presence in his car made him extremely self-aware of just how unkempt it was. Megumi was the only one ever in it, never trusting anyone to drive it, and also never having a reason to pick up strangers he had just met. But Yuji doesn’t say anything; he keeps watching the world like he’s reading the stories of strangers. Only small snippets of their stories allow him all he needs to decide what kind of person they could be. 

Outside of a drugstore, a small man is clutching onto what looks like a bottle of Sprite, and his clothes are torn and dirty. He only flashes by in Yuji’s vision for a few seconds. A small bookstore with a big window and a girl with two brown pigtails flies by. Two young women–one blonde with chunky teal highlights, and the other with raven black hair and purple bangs–guide each other while holding hands, one drags the other through the crowds of people gathering around a small venue. 

All the people disappear when they enter the emptier parts of Tokyo, the parts no one cares to visit, where people stay for the past eight hours, and every house is dark, leaving only the street lights to illuminate the world. 

“It’s just up the street after this next right turn,” Yuji says.

Megumi nods his head, knowing Yuji won’t even see it. He makes the turn and waits for Yuji to point out which one is his.

“That one, with the dead tree”, Yuji says, pointing at it and starting to turn his head back to Megumi. The car starts to slow down while edging closer to the curb. When the car comes to a full stop and Megumi puts the car in park, Yuji grabs his stuff and reaches for the door handle before stopping. He turns back to Megumi as a small glint of admiration sparks in his eyes. “Do you want to come in… like, for a drink? I have a cat too. He’s not the friendliest, though. And just one drink, only if you want to.”

“Uhhhhh…” Megumi doesn’t say anything. He just stares at Yuji like an idiot, like his brain exploded after reading the first question on a test he forgot to study for.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. That was so stupid to ask. I’ll just leave now. Thanks for the ride, I appreciate it.” Yuji turns back to the door, opens it, and starts to step out. He shuts the car door and begins walking towards his house.

Megumi doesn’t have time to think of a response at all, but he doesn’t want to leave Yuji without any real answer. He unbuckles himself and pulls the keys out of the ignition, pushes the door open, and locks it almost immediately. The loud clicking of the car locking makes Yuji look back at the car; he sees Megumi emerging from behind his car, with one hand in his pocket and the other scratching at his neck.

“You didn’t really give me a chance to say anything,” Megumi makes sure he doesn’t trip over anything as he walks towards Yuji. “I’m not a big cat person either, but a drink sounds nice.”

Yuji’s heart skips a beat when Megumi is suddenly right next to him, patiently waiting for him to come back to reality, and lead the way inside, and to finally escape the cold.

“Shit, my bad.” He stuffs his hand into his bag, fishing around for the keys. “That’s too bad, he’s a really cute cat.” 

It only takes 30 seconds. Yuji has his head down; he can’t see Megumi watching his every move. The way he swears under his breath after he thinks he found them, the way his hair falls over his face perfectly, the way he stands with so much determination to find something so simple, and the small remarks of affirmation he makes to Megumi. Affirming that he’ll find them soon, and that they can be inside, where his house is warm. Even though his face is heating up, making his body heat up too. With this darkness consuming them, he doubts Yuji would even notice. And if Yuji did notice, he would blame it on the cold, and not think it was because his simple words and gestures were making Megumi’s heart beat right out of his chest. 

Yuji looks back up at Megumi, wiggling around what he could only assume are the keys— they’re covered by colorful keychains from every corner of interests a person like Yuji would have. He even questions how one could lose track of keys that are colorful and bulky. The jumble of colors doesn’t make Megumi almost keel over, again, from his own heart, but instead, the way Yuji smiles. His smile is straight out of a kids' commercial for some kind of toy; it's big and genuine, that kind of smile you only see from a kid on Christmas. It’s so warm and feels like it could also heal Megumi’s frozen body. It takes everything in him not to say anything, to just give a small smile and nod while looking over at the door.

“Shit, my bad, again.” Yuji runs to the door, fumbling with the doorknob and keys until he finally has it unlocked. He dramatically pushes the door open, gesturing towards the inside while shaking his hands. He bows his head down as Megumi enters, “You shall now enter, M’lady.”

“You know, I’m not a girl.” 

“I know that, obviously,” Yuji closes the door, finally free from the cold. Megumi was already taking his shoes off, and after he freed his feet, he started to look for a light switch–acting like he had been here before, waiting for a cat to come up and greet him, though he didn’t even know its name–even though this was his first time in this house ever. And it wasn’t like Yuji was going to look for the lights; he was currently on the floor fighting with his shoe laces.

“Is it okay if I turn the lights on?”

“What?” Yuji looked up and stopped trying to remove his shoes, as if looking at Megumi would help him hear what he asked. Megumi pointed up at the unlit light, and Yuji gestured towards the wall closest to them, the same wall with an opening to a small living room, “Yeah, that’s fine, it’s on that wall.” 

Megumi flicks the switch, the house is illuminated, and he can finally see everything that was once hidden in the shadows. Right next to the genkan is a small table, which holds a bowl that Megumi can only assume is where Yuji throws his keys after every day. Right next to it is an empty picture frame.

Empty? Weird to have an empty picture frame. Especially by the front door. Megumi takes note of this and starts moving towards the living room.

He’s just standing in the entrance to the living room, examining everything. The room is like a full square. The couch has its back to the window that overlooks the front yard, and on the other side of the room, in a corner, another chair. The chair carries a light, brown, salmon colored cat–the lighting made it look almost pink. Its entire body was covered in fur patterns that resembled a tiger's. The cat didn’t acknowledge him or Yuji when they first came in, and it continued to sleep, completely oblivious to Megumi’s existence.

He decided to ignore the cat for now, continuing to look around his new surroundings. A bookshelf stays hidden on the wall right next to the couch: the top is covered with pieces of paper with child-like drawings on them. Looking closer, he could tell that each one, no matter the picture, had a real part of it in the drawing. Like a drawing of a mountain with real dirt on it, or a drawing of his cat with real fur somewhere on it. His art is figurative with real objects as the subject. Megumi doesn’t question it and marks it off as normal for Yuji.

A small coffee table is in front of the couch—it has stacks of plates, movie cases, and manga. Another bookshelf, just a little bit farther from the couch, carries the TV. Instead of books, there are only movies, hundreds of movies from every genre. From straight-up bloody thrillers to cheesy romantic comedies. 

On each wall that could be empty, instead hang pictures you would find in a store that carries the most absurd house decorations. A picture of a bulldog in a ballerina outfit is the first one that Megumi notices, and everything he continues to find in Yuji’s house fits his idea of who he is. 

Everything seems in the right place; the only strange things are the piles of clothes on the couch that must have been tossed there to fold later. By the TV, there are more empty picture frames cluttering up the space. It's a mess, to say the least, but this doesn’t change Megumi's opinion on Yuji at all. He’d be even more surprised if it were clean, and just from the couple of hours he’s known Yuji, he is sure of that. 

After Megumi thinks he has fully taken in his new surroundings, Yuji pops up out of nowhere behind him. He had gotten so used to the silence while he scanned his new surroundings that he completely forgot he wasn’t alone. 

“Sorry if it’s a little dirty, I didn’t think I would have company over tonight,” Yuji says as he walks down the hallway in the opposite direction of the living room. 

“No, it's fine. You seem like the type to have a messy house.”

“Ouch! Fushiguro, you say some mean things.”

Yuji’s voice is barely audible, but to his naturally loud voice, Megumi can still hear him. He has to be in the kitchen right now because Megumi can hear the sound of glass clinking together and cabinets shutting. He continues to stand in the entry to the living room, nervous to go anywhere, and be an intruder to Yuji. He doesn’t know if he should sit down on the couch or the chair in the corner. So he just stands there, fidgeting with his sweater sleeve.

Music starts to play from what he could only suspect is the kitchen. Megumi can’t hear any lyrics and only strange buzzing-like noises, with subtle hints of a piano. A voice starts to sing, and almost instantly, Megumi recognizes the artist and the song. Yuji was playing “I’m Lost Without You” by Blink-182.  For some reason, Megumi didn’t take Yuji as the type of guy to listen to rock, but he doesn’t mind it at all. The song choice was a bit shocking, too, since it was known for being a sad love song; you’d hear a teenage boy blasting it in his room after his middle school girlfriend found someone else. 

It doesn’t take that long for Yuji to appear from another entrance to the living room, holding two glasses of some brown concoction. “Why are you still standing?” Yuji sits down on the couch, placing both glasses down on the coffee table in front. It hurts Megumi to see him not use any kind of coaster. “Sorry, this was the last song playing, and I just clicked play. You can come sit over here, though,” Yuji gestures to the space right next to him.

“Okay.” That's all Megumi says as he slowly walks over and then sits down. He keeps his hands in his lap, holding them together. “What are we drinking?”

“I like to call it the Special Yuji Juice! But in better terms, it’s just orange juice and Cassis. It’s sweeter than bitter, you know how some alcoholic drinks can be that way, and that's why I like it.” Yuji picks up his glass and takes a big sip of it.

Megumi takes a smaller sip than Yuji, so he can try to get a better taste of it, and Yuji was right, it’s very sweet and not as bitter. The orange juice is the dominant flavor hitting his tongue, and normally, orange juice has a subtle tangy taste to it, but Yuji’s is different. It’s sweeter and fresher, but that could be the mix of the Cassis, or the fact that he still feels off like he did this morning. 

“How’s it taste? It’s good, right?” 

“It tastes fine. I’m not the biggest drinker, so—It tastes like liquor to me.”

“See, and it’ll make the whole seduction process easier.” 

Megumi doesn’t say anything; he just stares at Yuji, his eyes widen just a bit, and he can feel his skin heating up again. 

“I’m kidding,” Yuji giggles, and it vibrates through Megumi's ears, like a fly flew in there and is now struggling to escape. “I’m going to go make another for myself. When you finish yours, I can make you another.” Yuji sits up and shuffles towards the kitchen. 

Alone again. Megumi slides down a bit to try to act more comfortable and normal. He develops an understanding of what he’s doing tonight. The way he’s sitting on a stranger's couch, drinking with him. Can he even call Yuji a stranger now? But he also doesn’t know anything that someone who isn’t a stranger would know—like what’s his favorite food, his favorite movie, or what he does when alone, or even his favorite color. Megumi could assume it’s pink just because of the hair, but that doesn’t seem quite right.

When Yuji comes back, he has a taller glass to hold more of the “Special Yuji Juice”. He jumps on top of the couch—Megumi’s body flies up a bit with the couch—and quickly gets comfortable. 

As Yuji gets comfortable, he finds the small amount of warmth coming from Megumi sensational, like he could just curl up next to him and all his problems would leave. It pains him to just sit next to Megumi without laying his head on his shoulder or chest. 

Megumi leans forward to grab his cup—it’s gotten warmer since his last sip—and rests his body back down. The couch is surprisingly soft, even with the jackets that hang off the back of the couch. When he adjusts to the perfect comfort, he notices that Yuji has gotten closer, a strange kind of closer. His shoulder brushes against his, and that subtle feeling is enough to make his heart pick up speed again. 

They both are sitting next to each other, with their bodies facing forward, and Yuji has his feet resting on top of his coffee table, like it's some kind of ottoman. All this silence makes Megumi sleepy. 

Yuji turns towards Megumi, looking like he was going to try to start another conversation, one that would dive more into the personal details of Megumi’s life. 

“You’re kind of closed off, aren’t you? Your body language kind of reveals that about you.”

Megumi didn’t think this would be the start to this new conversation, but a conversation starter is a starter, nonetheless. He had his arms crossed, like he was trying to hold himself together or cover something. The way his arms crossed somewhat looked like an ‘X’, signifying that he wasn’t open to sharing anything about himself.

“Sorry. I mean, that’s one way you can put it. I don’t have a very interesting life. I go to work, stay home, go shopping for necessities, or leave to do something on random occasions. I live the generic life: working 9 to 5 almost every day, hardly any breaks, and barely a reason for one. I mean, if you want to know what goes on in here,” he points at his head, “you should read my journal.”

“But, doesn’t that make you feel lonely, or even sad?”

Megumi’s eyes wander to Yuji’s hands, which are bulkier than his, and they keep such a tight grip around his cup. His eyes move up to those caramel, crisp, clean eyes. 

“Not really, I guess you could say, I don’t mind the simplicity of the life I live. Not much changes, and it’s nice living with that kind of schedule, knowing that it will always be the same, except for today. This was the first day that it was different, and I didn’t mind the change.”

“Really!” Yuji sounds genuinely surprised by the way Megumi sounds so uncaring towards his own life. “I can’t live like that. It makes me feel lonely; I need to be near people, or just in a new place every day. If every day feels like the same day, a repeat of every day, I feel crazy. So I always try to make every day different, even if it’s an intricate detail.” 

“Is that so?”

“Mhm.”

Megumi has turned his entire attention to what’s in front of him, trying to dissociate himself from this in case it turns bad. For the safety of his own peace of mind.

However, Yuji keeps his eyes on him. Watching the way he breathes, and how he just sits there, arms crossed and still holding the barely drunk glass of liquor. If Megumi didn’t think he was crazy, he would have assumed Yuji was staring at his lips. 

“I like your—uhh”, he trails off, pointing at his bottom lip. Then, pointing at Megumi’s bottom lip. Instead of just pointing, he gently runs his fingers against his black hooped snake bites. Going from one crease of his lips and stopping at the other side, not moving his finger at all. 

So Megumi wasn’t crazy for thinking Yuji was staring at his lips.

Megumi’s eyes have now moved back to Yuji, watching his finger trace against his bottom lip. His face flushes into a pale pink, and he can feel his heart start picking up pace. His fingers, so gentle with him, and with his bottom lip too.

“My snakebites?”

“Yes! Oh yes, your snake bites,” he slowly moves his finger back to touching his own body, rubbing his thigh in some therapeutic way to reassure himself over something. “I like them.”

His presence lingers on Megumi’s lips, like they were craving more from that simple touch. Like they wanted him to grab his face, pull him to his lips, and press them together. Thoughts of Yuji kissing him plague his mind–deemed as a dirty thought, one that should be eradicated immediately–it’s so nice, but it hurts to think about. Feeling like he’s breaking some unspoken rule that would make Yuji hate him forever if he found out that crossed his mind.

So he cleans his mind. Empties it and replaces it with the same hollow space that feels calming in situations like this. Letting himself think normal people's thoughts feels wrong. He doesn’t deserve them, because he’s better than that–raised right, and taught to turn off right when things get too overwhelming to bear. Taught than anything unfit for a “prodigy” son to be thinking, had to be destroyed. He was meant to be a perfect son, with a clean record, or a broken record that was supposed to resemble what his father thought he was like. Though that father was nothing close to a perfect person, for Megumi to be like him was always a task that failed. 

That silence, he had been forced to live with since he was younger, and now he is too scared to leave it behind: it’s like a childhood imaginary friend with feelings, even if it’s actually the darkness of the human mind that no one should ever have to live in. But Megumi will continue turning those thoughts into only writings for him to know about.

It’s quiet, again. Yuji is still looking at Megumi, who’s still staring forward at the TV that’s off. He doesn’t want to look at Yuji; he feels like it would hurt him to just look in his direction, and to respond feels wrong now after so much time has passed. So he just nods as a thank you, but he can still feel those eyes locking into his subconscious movements.

“Fushiguro?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I lay my head on your shoulder?”

Now, looking over at Yuji, who’s staring at him, his gaze bleeds into Megumi’s eyes, waiting patiently, like a puppy waiting for commands.

“I mean–I don’t see why not,” Megumi says, and the words instantly feel forced out, like they were said to try not to hurt Yuji’s feelings, like the deepest part of him wasn’t screaming yes.

After the small confirmation, his head instantly goes limp and rests on Megumi’s shoulder. Heavier than I thought. For a second, I thought he didn’t have a brain. Megumi thinks, adjusting himself again to this new weight on his shoulder. 

“This is nice. You’re nice,” Yuji says, snuggling his head farther into the crook of Megumi’s neck. He’s just as warm—maybe warmer than he thought he would be. His vibe gives off cold, but in all honesty, his warmth is everything; it's the perfect kind of heat that comes from a person. His aroma was stronger now, clogging Yuji’s nose. It wasn't unpleasant, though—it was fitting for Megumi to smell this good, basically perfect. “You smell good.”

“What?” Megumi tilts his head down a bit to meet Yuji’s face. Yuji doesn’t look up at him, only staring down at something in front of them—probably his glass that only holds a sip or two left. Megumi can’t see what he focuses on, since his hair covers his eyes. But Yuji’s closer now, and Megumi can feel the tickling sensation from his breath hitting his neck. “Did you say I smell good?”

“Yeah. You smell really good.”

“Oh… thanks. I guess?” Megumi shifts his head back up, focusing his attention on the way their figures are presented in the reflection on the TV. And the silence returns, and the only thing that can be heard is the clicking of a clock, or the slight rustle of clothes as Yuji pushes himself closer to Megumi.

He twisted his torso and head to face Megumi’s general direction and rested his forehead on Megumi’s shoulder. One of his arms is squished between his own body, the couch, and Megumi’s side. On the other hand, Yuji is holding his glass loosely, like he’s already tipsy from just one small glass and a little bigger glass. 

Megumi hasn’t taken much thought for the predicament he’s in, since his focus has just been on how quietly awkward it has been. He’s also trying to be as still as possible to not disturb Yuji, as if he’s a dog sleeping on your leg, and feeling obligated to stay in the name of keeping them comfortable.

“Fushiguro.” His voice is low and has a small hint of cracking, one gets when they haven’t talked in a while, or when you drink something and it messes up your voice for a second. “Can I tell you something a little personal?”

“Sure. But, do you trust me enough not to tell anyone?”

“It’s not like that.” He pushes himself closer to Megumi, making him realize how close, heavy, and strong Yuji is compared to him. “You can tell anyone. Like, go home, and text all your friends about this weird encounter you had on a Wednesday night. I truly don’t care.”

Bold of you to assume I have friends whom I value enough to make them listen to things like this. 

“Okay then, what do you need to tell me that’s so personal?”

“I’m going to marry you.”

What the fuck. If Megumi took a sip out of his drink, like he was planning to do, he would have started choking. Instead, he keeps his composure, his body as still as possible, to try not to bring any attention to his body language. More importantly, his face must be as red as the hoodie he has his back on.

Megumi blinks, “Excuse me?”

“I’m going to marry you. I really am.”

“What makes you even think that?”

“Well, you’re nice.”

“You barely know me.”

“But, I know you enough to know I’ll marry you. Is that not enough?”

Megumi doesn’t respond. Instead, Yuji moves his hand—that’s still pinned between Megumi, himself, and the couch— and reaches for Megumi’s free hand. 

The small touch, to suggest what he wants without saying it this time. Megumi doesn’t say anything, he leaves his hand in his lap to let Yuji hold it. His fingers find their way through the gaps, interlocking their fingers, and it feels like Yuji is showing Megumi the right way to hold hands–it feels that way for Megumi, especially with the rise in his heart rate. Yuji’s skin is rough and soft, at the same time, the top is cracked and in need of lotion, but his palm is soft and warm. 

I wonder what his palm would feel like grazing against my skin. Megumi thinks as he watches Yuji find the perfect spot for their hands to rest together. This is nice, so very, very, very nice.

It doesn’t take long for him to find the perfect spot, and with that, he rests his head back on Megumi. This time, he’s more snuggled against him.

“Now you can call me Yuji, and if it’s okay, I’m gonna call you Gumi, in retaliation for calling me Pinky earlier.” He smirks at Megumi sliding closer against his shoulder.

Gumi? The only time I ever heard that name was when I was younger. My mother called me Gumi. The memory of his mother calling him for breakfast and referring to him as Gumi leaves a small, soft mark in his mind. The heartening emotion gets disturbed by the fact he’s not there anymore, not in his mother's comforting embrace, as she wipes his tears before they stain his porcelain-like skin. Her hair slightly tickled his face when she would breathe in and out, holding him close and squeezing him tightly. Never letting go, and trying her best for him to know that she loved him more than anything. But reality hits again, and Megumi notices his lack of response to the conversation. 

“Okay, Yuji, just please don’t call me that in public.”  

“Okay, Gumi. But I want you to come up to Okutama with me. This time of year, it freezes over, and it’s beautiful at night. You can see how pretty the sky is.”

“Isn’t that kind of unsafe, or scary?”

“Not really—I go all the time around this year, so I know how to be careful.” Yuji squeezes Megumi's hand to reassure him of that statement.

Megumi lays his head on Yuji’s, and their hair blends together, and he can feel the dips and bumps on Yuji’s head. 

It’s nice. The feeling of this contact is simple, careful, and warm. Their hands are interlocked, squished together—like a mess of sweat and skin, holding tightly to not break the bond. Megumi’s eyes, once focused on the TV, now can’t leave the sight of their hands, the way Yuji’s knee rubs against his, and the small sliver of his nose peeking out of his hair. He’s watching him, drinking him in—making sure this moment can last forever in his memory, never being tainted, or disturbed by the harsh outside. This is what he needed after a confusing day; he needed to be with someone like Yuji to end his day and to bring some kind of joy to him.

Like the memory, Megumi feels Yuji’s presence soak into his skin, leaving any doubt Yuji had in life, or troubles throughout any situation start to drip onto Megumi. They’re unreadable, but the feeling is there. Though Yuji had a happy, upbeat look to him, Megumi could feel Yuji’s sorrows dip into his own open wounds. 

“We could pack a picnic, go at night to avoid people, eat, and lie in each other's presence.” Yuji continues explaining his idea to them on the frozen lake. “I can bring some onigiri and more of ‘Yuji’s Special Juice’. Oh, and these small cakes from my favorite bakery.”

Megumi can’t pay attention. Just touching Yuji’s skin makes him feel drunk, drunker than he would have been if he had more of ‘Yuji’s Special Juice’. But it consumes his body, mind, and senses–it’s so comforting and gratifying that he feels like he could stay like this forever, staying in Yuji’s touch forever, where life stops to let it just be them. If the world stopped, and this is where he was stuck for the rest of his life, that would be just fine. It would be utterly perfect.

Yuji’s head starts to slide lower down Megumi’s chest, stopping right at his heart. Megumi’s heart starts to pick up pace, and he hopes Yuji can’t tell.

That feeling of peace is soon stripped away from Megumi. He shouldn’t be here. A touch he hasn’t felt in years feels uncomfortable now, and like he’s not worthy of feeling anything other than his suffering. This joy was like poison, and he needed to break away from it before it killed him. An addictive poison that he still yearned to stay connected, too. The moment is ruined, and not by the passage of gas, but instead by Megumi’s mind working overtime to take away the enjoyment of life.

“I should be heading out.” Abruptly, Megumi breaks their hand’s connection.

“You should stay,” Yuji says, grabbing Megumi’s hand again to try and keep him with him. 

Fuck, does he have to say something like that? Yuji wanted me to stay. He didn’t feel like I was a burden, and the biggest plus was that he still wanted to hold my hand. He didn’t think I was cold. Did he feel comforted by my touch, the way his comforted me? 

Those brown honey eyes, pleading for him to stay. So readable, and hard to say no to. But no matter how strong their hold on Megumi was, the way he knew he couldn’t stay was stronger.

“It’s late, and I have work tomorrow.” Megumi lies.

He breaks his hand free and grabs his glass from the table, and, unsure of where to put it, he stands there waiting for Yuji to tell him.

Yuji gets up too, his doe eyes continue to bleed into Megumi’s skin, and it feels heavier this time, more emotion in them, more pain.

“Don’t leave yet. At least let me give you my number.” Yuji grabs the glass from Megumi’s hand and walks into the darkness of the kitchen.

Megumi heads toward the genkan to put his shoes back on and to try and leave before Yuji returns. He fails, and Yuji is behind him with a black pen.

“Call me. Please. I would really appreciate it if you called me for Valentine’s Day.”

Yuji grabs Megumi’s hand, and before he can pull back, Yuji is already scribbling down something on his hand. His number, and he finishes it off with a smiley face. Megumi finishes getting his shoes on after Yuji lets his hand go for the last time that night, and Yuji’s taller now, only slightly, and due to the dip in elevation from Megumi standing in the genkan. He looks at his hand, then shoves it into his coat pocket, nods his head, and turns to the door.

“I will.”

“If you do, then we can plan our picnic on the lake.”

“Sure.”

Megumi opens up the door and steps out of the house. He turns to look at Yuji one more time, who’s standing in the doorway watching Megumi get in his car, making sure he gets in his car safely.

He gets in the car and sits there for a while before starting it. He wants to lie his head on the wheel and breathe for a while, but he doesn’t need Yuji seeing him like that. So he drives off, switching on the radio and immediately switching it to the CD player. “Having a Blast” by Green Day starts playing, and Megumi rolls his eyes. 

Having a blast, not what I would say I’m having right now. 

—

Megumi’s house feels cold for the first minute he stands inside, taking his shoes off. The only thing lighting his living room up is the moon's illumination. Before giving attention to Kon and Kuro, who, when he first entered, immediately greeted him by wagging their tails, running in circles, sniffing the new smells embedded into his clothes, and also whining for food. After placing his shoes by his door, he goes into the living room, turns on a few lamps, and closes the blinds.

Even though he has one of those automatic dog feeders, and Kuro and Kon are well trained to survive a day without him–they even have a doggy door to use when they need to excrete their body waste–except every time he comes home, he’s met with hungry puppy eyes that yearn for more, well-done food. He always comes home and makes them a proper dinner, with more flavor than the kibble—it’s like a sorry for being gone all day. 

After he’s made them their good dinner, he heads to the back, where the rest of his clothes are, so he can change out of his uncomfortable clothes. He puts on one of those stupid animal T-shirts and some blue sweatpants, nothing impressive. When Kuro and Kon finish their food, he lets them outside and stands with them, watching them sniff around the yard and bark at anything that piques their interest.

Am I supposed to be doing something right now? It feels like there’s something he wasn’t supposed to forget, but when he saw his dogs, it felt like they switched him back to his normal routine. Letting in Kuro and Kon, locking the door, and covering the doggy door afterward–all a part of his daily routine that he’s back on track to living. He sits on the pull-out couch, spreading his legs out and lying on top of the blankets. Megumi picked up the red flannel-patterned blanket that had still been on the floor since this morning. Before he lays the blanket over the bed, he sees the smudged writing on his hand, the same place where Yuji wrote his number. 

It clicks almost immediately, and guilt fills his body for letting him wait this long for a call. He didn’t mean to forget; he never meant to forget a lot of things, but this one hurt a bit more because he could tell that when Yuji asked him to call him for Valentine’s Day, he really wanted me to be the one calling him.

His phone was already discarded on the coffee table, which was still covered in dishes and books, and for some reason, it disappointed Megumi that it was still like that, even though he was the only one who could clean it. Megumi sits on the pull-out couch, grabs his phone, dials in the number, and before he presses to call, he stops. Hesitates for a second and then thirty seconds, until he’s completely lost in thought.

What if I don’t call him? Then, this whole interaction can be forgotten. What if he’s already asleep? Then, he doesn’t pick up, and I can sleep. What if—stop overthinking every little thing. It’s just one call. One simple call. 

He tilts his phone down and turns toward the rest of the room. Kuro is on the bed, and Kon is passed out on the same chair he occupied in the morning. He shifts the phone back to his face, and the screen feels brighter. He clicks call and brings the phone to his ear.

Ring…. Ring…. Ring….

Click…

“Hi.”

“Hello?”

“Megumi?”

“Uhm—Yes?”

“What took you so long, man? I’ve been waiting for what felt like hours. I even started falling asleep.” 

A wave of relief and a bit of disappointment—since he wasn’t asleep after all, and also a person who picks up calls from numbers he doesn’t know—washes over Megumi. That feeling of wanting it to happen, but in the deepest part of a person's mind, is fear. Scared that this action could lead to something painful, mentally. So, it’s better to be safe and keep the unknown away.

“I got stuck in traffic, so I just got in the door." Megumi lies.

“Damn, traffic sucks. So did you miss me?”

“I guess, I do.” Those two words spill out of him, like it’s water dripping out from a crack formed on the side of a glass. He didn’t have time to think, but he meant those words, since he, really, did miss Yuji.

“Oh my god. You said I do. This means we’re married now!” Yuji's giggles echo through the call and travel all over Megumi’s body. 

“I guess it does.” None of the things Megumi has said in the last minute or two sounds like him. But they feel right, and he doesn’t want to let himself ruin this; he doesn’t want to try and destroy this, because it feels like it’ll end fine—the lack of a good night's sleep is also showing through his remarks.

“Tomorrow night. Honeymoon at Okutama, the lake of frozen dreams.” 

“You make it sound sad, but sure.”

“It’s not like that, trust. Instead, it’s stunning.” 

Megumi shifts on his squeaky couch bed and starts to slide under the covers. The warmth of the blankets is one of the best feelings he’s felt all day. 

“I would love to, just go with you,” Megumi exclaims. “I would also love to keep talking, but I’m so tired. Sorry, Itadori.”

“Don’t say sorry, dude. Sleep is the cure to everything. That’s what my Grandpa always said.”

Megumi smiled at the remark, finding it quite amusing. But, he could also sense Yuji’s intent to try and talk longer, which, if they did it, would only end with Megumi passing out on the phone, and he viewed that as rude, so he wanted to get off soon.

“That’s really nice, Yuji. You should tell me more tomorrow. At Okutama.”

“Right, Okutama. Pick me up at seven, please.”

“Sure—Yeah, I will,” His words were soft and quiet. “I’m going to hang up now and sleep.”

“Yes. Right”

“Goodnight, Ita—Yuji.”

“Night, Megumi.” 

The phone clicked to silence, and the only noise filling Megumi’s ears was the vents spewing bits of heat. His charger, just barely out of reach, sits on the floor. He grabs it, plugs his phone in, and places it on the small nightstand nearby. He collapses on the bed, and everything that filled him with stress starts to dissolve into the sheets. 

He pulls the blanket over his shoulder and turns to his side. Holding his body as if pretending to hold someone in the empty space. Megumi stares forward towards the curtains, slightly rustling against the back door. His eyes start to feel heavy, and then he’s out like blowing a candle out. His day wasn’t as busy as normal, but his brain felt like it was working overtime to keep him from spiraling into a closed-off puppet. Meeting Yuji used more of Megumi’s energy than dealing with five bouncing Jack Russel Terriers in one day.

—

A breeze flows through the sage sheets that cover a man sprawled on his stomach. His hair is a mess, and his shirt is slid up—revealing a sliver of his back and abs. One leg is tucked under the covers, and the other is sticking out, practically begging for the monsters underneath to pull him under. 

Yuji turns onto his back. Drool drips out of his mouth and reveals a spot on his pillow. He pulls his blanket up to avoid the cold chilling in his room. He could sleep forever.

BING BING BING 

Yuji now sits up, eyes closed, and hands squishing his sheets. Turning his attention to his phone, which is blasting his alarm, he grabs it and shuts it off. His body slams back onto the bed and rolls towards the wall. 

Ding Dong

“Five more minutes, Choso.”

Knock Knock 

Yuji sits up again, looks around, and realizes he’s not in his brother’s house anymore. The thought of getting out of bed pains him, but the thumping on his door makes it easier for him to want to get up and investigate. Red slippers sit perfectly by his bed, and he starts to feel around for them without looking.

He stands at the end of the hall, and the front door feels so far away. The knocking or the doorbell ringing hasn’t happened in a while. Maybe I could just go back to sleep? It was most likely a dream. Yuji thinks as he stares at the door, and then looks back at his empty room and his bed, which yearns to be slept in.

Knock Knock

“Fuck.” He swears under his breath. The handle is cold, and it brings back the feeling of no longer wanting to be up in his mind, but he opens the door.

A bundled up Megumi stands on the other side—his hair is kept under a brown beanie, compared to it spreading out like a star. A scarf wraps around his neck and hangs to the end of his dark brown flannel jacket. He’s wearing the same boots he wore yesterday, and his nose has a hint of pink.

Yuji, on the other hand, was in his boxers and a T-shirt. If the cold air hitting him wasn’t cold, Megumi’s gaze scanning him was. He couldn’t read his eyes, but he felt self-conscious and embarrassed by them. His face turned pale and red at the same time, creating a mix of pink, which matched his hair.

“Hey. Did you forget about Okutama, or are you not bothered by the cold?” Megumi asks as he starts to step back to give Yuji room to do something, and that something was him slamming the door.

He rushes back to his room, grabs his phone—the time reads 6:59, and his heart jumps into his throat. The closest door flies open and smacks against the wall. He grabs a grey-blue hoodie, sweatpants, and a jacket to go on top to stay warm. He’s kicking his slippers off and sliding into the clothes—tears start to prick the corner of his eyes. 

Why am I getting teary-eyed at this? Fuck. Fuck. I feel so bad for sleeping in. Yuji wipes at his tears, which just makes more appear. His breaths sound shaky, broken, and wet. It doesn’t hit him that he completely slammed the door in Megumi’s face without saying anything. What if he thinks I’m an asshole for that? 

—

Megumi has been sitting up in his bed for what felt like an hour, but in reality, it was just five minutes. A notification lights up his phone, and the time reads 6:14. He’d fallen asleep pretty quickly, but woke an hour later, and couldn’t go back to sleep at all. The thought of waking up late to get to Yuji made him a bundle of nerves. Kuro had cuddled up next to him, which created a natural heater, so the sheets had slipped off slightly, trying to let in some cool airflow. 

He couldn’t stand that feeling, the feeling of showing up even a second late to get Yuji. The only solution was to get up now before he’s out of time. He estimated the time it took last night to get from Yuji’s house to his. It only took 14 minutes. His phone lit up again—the time now reading 6:16. Megumi’s body jolts up, waking both Kuro and Kon from the movement, and he’s now on his feet walking to his closet.

It takes him eight minutes to get dressed—guessing how the weather would be, Megumi decided to check and plan for the weather ahead. A sweater, jeans, a brown flannel jacket, a blue scarf, and a beanie to keep his hair kempt and his ears warm.

On his way to the door, he grabbed a Red Bull and a bag of dried fruit to snack on the way there. Kuro and Kon looked over, glancing for a moment, a spark of sadness in both their eyes. Megumi felt like he couldn’t leave now when they were looking at him with so much sorrow. On the other hand, he couldn’t bear standing Yuji up, even though the thought of going made his skin ache and his stomach creaked with nerves. 

To ease his nervousness, Megumi grabbed two small circular bones for them to stay occupied. He checked on their food bowls and gave them both the best pets and treats, up until his stalling became too close to being late. Leaving his dogs home alone was normal for him, except today felt off; either way, he left after kissing them goodbye.

The boots he wore from yesterday were propped against the wall. Next to them were only three other kinds of shoes, which were all he wanted and needed.  

The winter air was not kind to ones who had just come out of their warm homes. It snipped at Megumi's bare nose and wrapped around his fingers. He never really liked the cold, nor did he enjoy the warm weather. His idea of the perfect weather was right before it rains or after—it’s perfect enough to still feel warm, but a small trickle of chills starts to rest on the skin. A crew neck or big sweater is all one needs to stay warm in that weather.

Though Megumi liked how the weather felt before it rained, he didn’t enjoy the rain. He wasn’t quite fond of being in it–being inside while the world cried on itself was a different kind of feeling. He liked that. It made the world feel so small and simple. The only thing he wanted when it rained was the blinds open, a cup of tea, and a good book. Kon and Kuro would stay close to Megumi in case they heard the loud snapping of thunder, or the flashes threatening to snap a branch hitting the street. But when he was outside in it, it just made everything dirty–mud everywhere he stepped, wind carrying those cold wisps of rain and nature’s debris. Megumi’s hair would get messier than usual, and when he would arrive at work, Okkotsu would leave a lighthearted joke about how it looked like he just came out of a tornado.

The weather now was not his favorite–numbing gusts of wind pushed against Megumi's hair, which he quickly slid the beanie that he was holding in his pocket onto his hair to try and keep it somewhat kempt. He got into his car, starting the heater up to try and have it spit out some kind of warmth. 

Why did he want to go so early, and why when it’s so cold? Megumi thought as he turned his head from side to side, and behind him, to make sure no one was behind him as he pulled out. Of course, no one was there because it was 6:43 in the morning and Megumi lived in a less busy area of Tokyo.  

When Megumi finally arrived at Yuji's, it was 6:57. Three minutes early, perfect. He could now see Yuji’s house in the small amount of sunlight that spread across the lot. Standing still at the door, too scared to knock, he checked his phone again. A minute had passed, and he was so anxious. What if he was saying all that because he was drunk, or something wild like that? Like, he doesn’t actually want to spend his morning with me. His mind became a spinning wheel of different scenarios on why he shouldn’t touch that door. Reasons he should go back to his car and forget about this entire interaction. No matter how many scenarios he created, it ended with him in front of the door, clicking the small doorbell next to the handle, not letting those different possible outcomes ruin his day.

Ding Dong

Nothing. Not a single sound from the inside emerged. So, he knocked. What if the doorbell was broken?

Knock Knock.

For a second, Megumi thinks he heard something moving inside, but brushes it off. He squished himself together in hopes to try and warm up again. Since he couldn’t tell if the noise he heard earlier was from inside, he knocked again.

Knock Knock.

The door opens, and standing before him is Yuji. Compared to Megumi’s bundled-up look, like he’s about to go hiking in the brutal mountains, Yuji is pairing a T-shirt and boxers. Megumi’s eyes slid down his body like glue sliding off paper. He scanned him from his pink hair to the many scratch-like scars etched into his legs–they weren’t self-inflicted, except Yuji can’t recall how they appeared there. His face had turned a paleish pink, matching perfectly with his hair. Megumi didn’t realise that he had just been staring at him, and now his face had turned into a pinkish red that could be deemed an effect of the cold. 

How cute, Megumi thinks before he lets himself go back to reality, and before he ends this painful silence.

“Hey, did you forget about Okutama, or are you not bothered by the cold?” Megumi asks while taking some steps away from the door to give Yuji space to do something. Without saying anything, Yuji slams the door in his face, and if he listens closely, he can hear the sound of feet running away from the door. Instead of feeling hurt by this sudden form of rejection, he smiles. Though he doesn’t know Yuji, he knows he didn’t do that to be mean.

Megumi ended up standing out in the bitter cold for only ten to fifteen minutes before the sound of clattering shoes came back to the door. Before he could fix himself up again, the door swung open again. Yuji—not in a T-shirt and boxers—now stands in front of Megumi. They stare into each other's eyes for a minute, trying to collect a feeling that the other is feeling, or searching for what to say by staring into one another. Megumi was the first one to speak this time.

“So you are bothered by the cold, and weren’t planning to wear your previous outfit?” 

Yuji smirks at Megumi and shuts the door. He lets out a fake, little laugh, while also trying to hide his eyes away, hoping that Megumi doesn’t notice how his eyes are now redder with specs of dried tears at the corners. “Shut up, my bed was really warm. But, I’m ready to go now.”

Megumi's gaze stuck to Yuji like caramel, feeling sweet and ductile. His eyes felt nice on him, and that’s where they should only ever be looking, never anywhere else— please, nowhere else, nobody else.  

“My car isn’t going to leave without us, and I’m not leaving without you,” Megumi said, starting to walk away from Yuji and to his car.

“I’m walking, sorry I got distracted.”

“By?”

“Nothing that important.” He reassures.

“Okay.” Megumi opens the driver's door and gets in when Yuji finally makes it to the car. He gets in, it’s somewhat warmer inside—warmer than it was last night. Nothing’s changed in the past twelve hours, and it feels like he’s already been in this car a plethora of times in his life. 

Adjusting to his seat easily and turning the dial for music to fill the silence with noise. Yuji’s eyes find themselves watching Megumi’s hands—turning the keys in the ignition, moving his rear-view mirror to the right angle, grabbing the steering wheel, and moving the gear stick into reverse. He’s fixed to him, like if he were a mouse stuck to a glue trap. 

“What?” Megumi noticed the stares, and instead of ignoring them, he wanted to know what he was doing that was so fascinating. 

“Oh, nothing”, Yuji shifted his attention to the window, readjusting his attention to something more sane. 

—

The lake’s parking lot was empty; only the air’s thick feeling could fill the emptiness. The air was still, and a dry cloud of air laid on top of the frozen water. Trees around them blew around—branches breaking at the slightest gust of wind. The sky was like a watercolor painting of different shades of blue, a small line of yellow emerging at the horizon, and finished off with dozens of little dots signifying the stars. 

Megumi smiled at his surroundings, his fingers already starting to feel numb, and his nose’s shade turned a rosy red, taking in that a place this beautiful exists in a cruel world. He twisted his scarf around more, trying to make as much warmth for himself as he could. 

Yuji had already walked over to the opening in the trees that led to the lake. He was standing, staring over the lake, waiting for Megumi to approach him so he could see this with him. Turning his head over to Megumi, still by the car, and fidgeting with his scarf and hat.

“Are you coming?”

“Yeah, yeah, just give me—I’ll be over.” He was still messing with his clothes, moving from his scarf to his hat, and his jacket. Was it to try and stay warm? Or maybe in case he died here, he would look at least somewhat presentable. He didn’t have a very definite answer for that question.

“It’s not going to break. If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I’m not.” Yuji jumped at the sound of Megumi’s voice beside him now, instead of feet away. “Just a little cold.”

They walked down the small hill, stepping over any sticks that might make one of them eat dirt. The lake was even prettier up close. The color resembled the same blue as the sky, only lighter and a bit washed out. 

“It gets really solid this time of year.” Yuji had already started walking on the first part of the lake, and a small creaking sound came with every step he took.

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes, Megumi, you just said you weren't worried about that, and I’m not trying to kill you.” He looked back at Megumi, who was staring down, as if waiting to watch Yuji stand on the wrong spot where it would all crack into a circle around him, then he’d fall into the lake, sending him tanking down into the icy tundra of water. It’s not like Megumi wanted that to happen; he was just, again, coming up with every horrible possibility that came with him stepping onto that lake.

“Here.” Yuji holds his hand to Megumi. When he doesn’t grab it at first, Yuji reaches out to grab it. He holds it softly, only slightly squeezing it in a comforting way. Guiding him onto the ice, going as slow as he can. “Come on, come on,” he repeats as he watches Megumi adjust to the feeling of being on ice.  

“It is so much prettier like this.” Megumi looks up, seeing how far the lake stretches. Flickering lights poking through the thin trees in the distance—almost looks like eyes watching them. He holds onto Yuji’s hand like it’s the only thing keeping him stable, like it’s his lifeline to surviving this.

“It really is. It’s like a beauty I would want to keep hidden from being tainted, only showing the people closest to me, or that I love.” Yuji smiles before letting go of Megumi’s hand. He feels empty and wobbly at first, but quickly turns to Yuji.

Those words sink into Megumi’s chest and drip down his body. Closest to me? People that I love? What did he mean? They’d known each other for less than 24 hours, and it felt like Yuji had already dedicated his life to loving him. Like his life’s purpose was to be here with Megumi, meant to be sharing remarks filled with the love he felt for him– I mean, he did say he was going to marry me last night.

But, what if Megumi’s crazy? It was just a slip of the tongue, something he was thinking too much about. Yuji probably meant love, strictly in a friend kind of way, only, nothing more. But it wouldn’t hurt him to think it could mean more than friends, at least not physically. The damage that could be made mentally was a reminder he needed, before finally shutting the whole joy-train down.

Forgetting them was the best option for Megumi. Don’t question, and don’t worry–it only leads to issues that can make life less enjoyable. Right now, all he wants to feel is joyous, to not show his worry about being safe, but no matter how hard he tries, he can’t make himself feel strong enough to follow farther onto the ice.

“Don’t go too far,” he can’t help but call out to Yuji.

As the words travel to him—like he jinxes himself in his prayers that he doesn’t hurt himself—he slips and falls right on his ass. 

“Ow—Fuck. Oh, fuck that hurt.”

“Are you okay?”

He reaches back up to his feet slowly, making sure he doesn’t slip again, and groaning as pain flows from his butt to his back. Turning back to Megumi, he calls out to him to come closer. “Come on, Gumi.”

“I think I should go back,” he says, looking back to the exit, to where the car is, and where his house is.

Yuji’s voice continues to tell him to come back, to come to him, and that he’s there.

He won’t disappear.

Yuji will be there if he falls, and he sure as hell won’t let go of his hand if he asks him to hold it.

“But, what if it breaks?”

“What if? So you are worried about it breaking right now, or you suck at sticking to a lie. Come on, it won't.” 

He looks back at the car, then back at Yuji.

“Please.”

Yuji shuffled closer to him, his hand out to him. He grabs it, letting him guide him to wherever—he only moves with him because he’s holding his hand, keeping him from slipping, and being so kind about his goofy worries.

They slide as they walk, never falling though, and Yuji acts like a kid. “Ooo—we’re going down. I’m just kidding,” he says, trying to make Megumi think they were going to fall. He didn’t think it was so funny, and ended up squeezing Yuji’s hand so tightly that he didn’t notice.

“Not funny, Yuji.”

“Sorry.” He didn’t sound sorry—a happy sorry, you say to make sure the other person can’t stay mad at you for too long—and Megumi didn’t take it as rude for him to be unapologetic. 

Yuji lets go of Megumi’s hand, again, and slides cautiously to the ground. Pats the spot next to him, revealing that he wants Megumi to lie down next to him on the cold, thick ice. 

“Come lie down next to me,” he smiles—that same smile he gave Megumi when they first made it to Okutama. 

The way he looked at him as he entered the living room holding “Yuji’s Special Juice", and how he watched Megumi talk while they held hands. 

The same expression he wore when he first saw him on the train. 

Megumi gently slides onto the ice to sit next to Yuji. The cold makes contact with his body and starts seeping through his clothes to attack his skin. It doesn’t take him long, though, to get used to it and even find warmth in the depths of it.

“I think I heard it crack.”

“It didn’t crack. You’re just freaking yourself out over nothing.” He reassures Megumi, who’s still sitting up, too scared to fully lie down. “Now, please lie down next to me.”

As he spreads himself flat on the ice, hands in pocket, and lays his head to look out at the sky above them. It’s so dark and empty around them–no city lights to hide the stars away, and no clouds either. A sight that could never be captured by a phone camera, so it would only stay in their memory, in this moment, forever. 

“Tell me about the stars.” Yuji moves closer to Megumi, practically lying next to his shoulder, cuddling next to him. He nudges him, as if he didn’t hear what he said. “Megumi, tell me about the stars.’

“Why do you assume I know about the stars?”

“Everyone has to know something about them,” he stares up at the sky, “and you seem really into them, you know the way you seem to get lost just looking up at them.”

“I’ve never been somewhere where the stars are so clear. I’m always in the city, and you know how foggy it gets there at night.” 

Yuji hums in agreement. He’s waiting for Megumi to tell him something–you can hear it in his hums, the way he’s getting impatient, but not an angry kind of impatient, an eager kind. 

“You see that one right there?” he stretches his hand out of his pocket and up at the sky, pointing at a constellation. “That’s Lyra.”

“I don’t see anything,” he squints his eyes.

“Right there. The way the stars shape into a harp.” His fingers trace the stars above him, trying to show Yuji the way they align into an instrument. 

“You have got to be kidding me,” he lightly punches Megumi's arm, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to tell that he’s serious in his words.

“You wanted me to tell you something about the stars, so there’s something you can see when you look up at them.” He puts his hands back in his pockets before the crisp air can bite them enough to break.

“See, I knew you knew something about the stars,” nestling himself again, Megumi again, to latch onto any body heat he can find. “You really are a smart guy, Megumi.”

—

The car is warm. With the little heat trickling out in puffs, it makes it heaven compared to the tundra they were lying in just thirty minutes ago. The sun has risen now, and it covers Yuji’s sleeping face. He looked breathtaking in this image, and every once in a while, Megumi would glance over to steal a peek. Forging this image into his memory to attempt and replay it over and over again later. 

Slowly, the car stops right in front of Yuji’s house, and the sudden stop of movement isn’t enough to wake Yuji up. Therefore, Megumi slightly taps his shoulder, only for nothing. He carefully taps his cheek while repeating his name. 

“Good morning, Yuji. Yuji~” is all Megumi says, and he starts to come back to life, taking in his surroundings, and taking Megumi’s hand too. As fast as he squeezes it and opens his eyes, he lets go and starts to scratch at his cheek instead. “You’re home now.”

“Can I go back to your place?” He yawns while also lying back against the headrest. “To sleep more.” 

Megumi just looks at him, the way he curls back to the chair to signify how tired he still is, but his eyes are open. Megumi’s mouth cracks open, closes, and then opens again before he nods at him.

“Okay. Yeah–sure I don’t mind.”

“Okay, let me go grab my toothbrush then,” he says–now fully awake and aware of his surroundings–as he sits up and Megumi opens the car door for him. The window is open, so after he gets out of the car and shuts the door, he turns back to Megumi. “I’ll be right back.”

He nods at him, smiling. 

Megumi rests his head against the headrest as he waits, closing his eyes to shield away from the sun. He finds himself to be quite tired too, which is weird since that’s the time he wakes up on a normal day. Maybe because today wasn’t a normal day, a day when he went out of his way to pick someone up and spend time with them, even though he barely knew them. 

The fact that he barely knows Yuji continues to go through his head. Like its cell phone reminders, reminding him to feed the dogs. Except it’s more annoying and constant, making sure he knows how utterly unreal it is for him to be doing this, and that this is invalid to his character. However, he continues to brush those thoughts off and continues thinking, This is fine. It’s okay to change your life up sometimes. This isn’t going to kill you.

His thoughts get interrupted when he hears knocking on his window. It’s coming from his side, so it can’t be Yuji.

It’s a girl. Megumi opens his eyes and starts to roll his window down. It’s hard to tell, but she’s tall and looks pretty skinny. Her hair, a short light brown bob, the sides spikey compared to her straight bangs. She was wearing a light peach cardigan over a white sweater, and from what Megumi could tell, she was also wearing a long light-colored skirt. 

“Yes?” He asks, and she looks worried, as if she saw a ghost walking by and was now trying to communicate with it.

“Can I help you?”

“With what exactly?”

“Can I help you with something?” she repeats.

He’s confused now and is attempting to rack his brain on what he could need help with that would make this girl think that. “I don’t understand what you’re asking.”

“What are you doing here? You shouldn’t be here.”

“What?” He feels a little offended, but pushes it away. “I’m not sure what you’re asking or saying to me.”

“Oh.” The girl looks beaten in a fight against words. Her eyes shift to the ground, then back to Megumi. Attempting a smile and a nod, she starts to walk away from the car. “Thanks.”

Megumi watches her walk away from the car before she’s completely out of his sight. He rolls the window up and begins questioning the entire interaction. What do I need? And why am I here? None of it makes sense, and no matter how many times he replays them in his mind, they never seem to make any sense. You’re not supposed to be here. What did she mean by that, and why did she seem so hurt the entire time she was talking to me? 

To end the never-ending cycle of questioning, he shuts his mind off again, or at least tries to. He rested his head again and focused on going home to sleep. Going home to sleep with Yuji, he gets to meet Kuro and Kon. Something about that excited him and became the only thing he could now think about.