Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You and your fat ass, oh my god,” Nobara cackles, bent double as she clutches her stomach. She thinks the situation is riotously funny, but Megumi finds it considerably less amusing from his position: stuck in a swing built for toddlers.

“Nobara,” he growls, once more trying to shove off the seat that’s encasing his hips, to no avail.

Nobara doesn’t say anything. She continues wheezing, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes as she watches his futile battle with the swing, doing absolutely nothing to help.

“Fuck,” he grunts as he pushes down harder, causing the contraption to dig painfully into his bones.

“It’s like that stuff in Harry Potter,” she says, wiping her damp eyes. “You know? The weed thing?” Her voice comes out strangled as she fails to repress her laughter. “The more you struggle, the harder it’ll be to get out. Just calm down! We’ll come up with something.”

“I am calm,” Megumi seethes as he lets go of the swing, hands twitching with the urge to throttle his friend.

“You sure don’t look it,” she says. “You’re like, bright red.”

“This is your fault,” he hisses, taking an angry step forward, intent on wringing her neck—but the swing holds him back. He stumbles and nearly falls, prompting his friend to break into a fresh wave of laughter.

It’s a frankly ridiculous situation. Thankfully, there’s no one else around to witness his shame. They live in a small town—Megumi doesn’t want the rumour mill to circulate his embarrassing predicament; a predicament which, if he’s being honest, is actually only partially Nobara’s fault.

Earlier, they decided to take advantage of the sunny weather and their coinciding days off by going for a walk in the park. Nobara, in her infinite capacity for bad ideas, had suggested they play on the swings. In response, Megumi had rolled his eyes and continued walking, but Nobara had clambered into one of the tiny seats, thereby preventing him from leaving. Unimpressed, he had waited impatiently for her to get bored; all the while listening in irritation as she goaded him incessantly to join her, swinging back and forth tauntingly.

He should have ignored her. He should have walked away. But, he did neither: he caved. For he had hoped that if he gave in to his friend’s pestering then the novelty of the activity would soon wear off, and they could be on their merry way again.

Approaching the swing, Megumi had known it would be a tight squeeze. But, he reasoned, Nobara had managed it fine, and besides, he had a slim waist. It would probably be uncomfortable, but surely not a problem. So, holding onto the ropes, he lifted his right foot, pointing it at a funny angle and worming it through the gap. Then, he lifted his left one too, sliding it in easily enough.

“Are you going to sit down or keep standing there like a weirdo?” Nobara badgered as she twisted on the spot.

Instead of sassing her back, Megumi tried sitting down; it was a very narrow fit. Sucking in his stomach, he wriggled his body, shifting his weight until, at last, he dropped fully into place. The second he thunked down, however, he immediately knew he was stuck.

“No,” he gasped in abject horror. “This can’t be happening.”

And yet, it was. For, the design of the swing meant that children could get in with ease but fall out with difficulty—thus ensuring their safety mid-air. This prudent structure had the added effect of trapping Megumi with shocking efficacy.

“That’s not how you swing,” Nobara teased, pushing off to the side so their swings clacked together.

“Nobara,” Megumi said, slightly detached, “I’m stuck.”

He could feel her eye-roll without looking. “No you’re not, come on. Swing with me!” She kicked off backwards to launch herself into the air, releasing a noise of playful glee when she flew forwards.

Megumi did not swing with her. Instead, he stood; his seat rose with him, snug against his body.

“Megumi,” Nobara whined as she continued swinging. “What are you doing? We’ll get you out later, it’ll be fine.”

Megumi was too focused on the terrible reality of his situation to reply. He gripped the bright yellow plastic frame, trying in vain with all his might to push it off. Nobara frowned as she watched him, letting her swing come to a halt. Then, she stood, drawing Megumi’s attention to her. Her swing rose with her body too, but when she gave it a shove, it quickly slid over her hips.

“Do it like that,” she said, unhelpfully, as she stepped free of her swing.

“Like what?” he retorted, irritated and uncomfortable.

“Like, you know. Um…”

Pursing her lips, she stepped in close, grabbing onto his swing to help. Together, they pushed and they pushed, but the swing would not budge; it gouged into his flesh with agonising intensity the more they pressed down.

When the pain became too great to bear, Megumi gasped, “Stop!”

Nobara dropped her hands. She stepped back, staring at the swing in stunned silence while Megumi caught his breath. That was the last time he knew peace, for, moments later, the comedy of the situation dawned on Nobara and she burst into loud, raucous laughter.

Now, still fucking laughing, she voices her second bad idea of the day.

“We should call the fire department.”

“Absolutely not.”

They know everyone at the fire department, and almost all of them are unbearable gossips, the sole exception being Aoi, who is eminently insufferable in his own right. Megumi really doesn’t want his situation to get out.

“Megumi,” Nobara says, planting her hands on her hips and levelling her voice. “It would be the mature thing to do.”

“Get fucked,” he retorts.

“I’m calling them,” she decides.

Ignoring his growls of protest, she pulls her phone from her pocket to ring the non-emergency hotline. Megumi grumbles to himself, realising she’s probably right and resenting her for it. He half-listens in dejected distraction, trying to slot his thumbs between his body and the swing’s frame for leverage, without success.

Nobara hangs up. “It sounds like Aoi’s on his way. Ten minutes tops,” she informs him.

Megumi sighs, dropping his hands. He stares forlornly into the distance, trying to come to terms with his shameful predicament. Nobara watches him, lips pressed into a thin line that twitches as she tries to repress her smile. Slowly, with feigned stealth, she raises her phone.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hisses when he realises what she’s doing.

“I would never,” Nobara lies as she takes a picture, the noise of her shutter incriminating her. “Oops,” she says, pocketing her phone.

A few minutes later, the fire department’s vehicle pulls up at the edge of the park. Nobara snickers as Megumi looks at the sky, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply through his nose. He tells himself it’ll be fine. Yes, Aoi is unbearable, but if he’s the one helping, the rest of the world won’t know about his mortifying situation by dinner time—if Nobara can keep her mouth shut, that is.

He hears the vehicle’s doors open and close and takes another steadying breath for good measure, when Nobara gasps. Surprised, he opens his eyes, wondering what could have made her react that way.

“Oh no,” he says, as he realises Aoi is not alone, accompanied by the most attractive man Megumi has ever seen.

“Oh yes,” Nobara echoes, eyes sparkling with glee as the two men make their way across the grass towards them.

When confronted with ridiculously good looking men, Megumi’s first instinct is normally to run. But, he realises, the afternoon’s alarming turn of events mean he’s physically unable to flee, and is instead forced to face the newest member of the fire department—who looks like he was carved from pure sex—head on.

Megumi feels his cheeks burn as he flushes head to toe. This is the single worst thing that could have happened to him. The reincarnation of every god of desire to ever exist is on the approach, and he’s trapped in a child’s swing. He wants to disappear, to sink into the earth or dissolve into the sunshine, but really, he wants nothing more than to collapse into the massive arms of the gorgeous man who must think Megumi is an utter moron.

Oh, Christ, he thinks, as the figures near—the new fireman only becomes more attractive the closer he gets. His hair is a dusty pink, soft looking and artfully tousled, like he just stepped off a photoshoot. Megumi wants to run his fingers through his locks while riding him, to hose his naked body down with water or be trapped between his legs, instead of this fucking swing set. Megumi notices that his face is cut in half by a sharp scar, which, if anything, turns his adorable features into something ruggedly handsome. His eyes are hazel, shining like amber in the sunlight, and he has a second scar by his mouth. Megumi wants to lick it.

A few feet away, the firefighters stop. Aoi is a huge guy, but the new man nearly rivals him in height and muscle mass. He’s forgone his uniform’s jacket and is wearing a simple white T-shirt instead. The red suspenders of his trousers rest against his magnificent chest, and Megumi can see every vein and sinew of his phenomenally built arms, a sight which makes his mouth run dry.

This has got to be the worst day of his life.

There’s an awkward pause in which Megumi wills his blush to recede, unable to speak for fear of what he might say: I’m on fire for you and You look too hot to handle are currently duking it out for first place.

Aoi frowns, shoving his hands in his pockets as he considers Megumi’s predicament.

“Since this is your first day,” he booms, addressing his partner, “I shall let you resolve this situation, brother.”

The other man shrugs, unphased by the overly friendly nickname or Aoi’s lack of volume control. Megumi notices that Nobara is practically vibrating with evil intent, which emanates from her in threatening waves. He needs to say something before she does, because he knows he won’t like anything she comes up with—but before he gets the chance, the newcomer speaks up.

“How did you get in there?” he asks, jerking his chin at Megumi’s crotch. His voice is deep and open, clear and friendly, without a hint of judgement in it. He sounds familiar, but Megumi knows they’ve never met; he just has one of those voices that makes you feel at home.

“He has a really slender waist,” Nobara pipes up. “Super tiny. It’s very elegant! If you wrapped your big hands around it I bet your fingers would touch.”

“Nobara,” Megumi growls, “Shut up.”

“Hm,” the firefighter says, brows pinching together as he crosses his arms. “I can see that.”

If Megumi wasn’t so distracted by the man’s obscenely bulging muscles, he might have tried reading into that statement.

“Yeah,” Nobara continues. “That’s how he got in. But the reason he’s stuck is because of his fat—”

“Nobara,” Megumi hisses, desperate for her to stop talking.

“Mind if I try?” the new firefighter interrupts.

“Try what?”

“Getting the swing off. I’m sure you’ve had a good go at it, but I’m probably stronger than you.”

Megumi finds it charmingly gracious that this absolute beast of a man is gently qualifying his strength. He is by no means weak, but the other man looks like he could run five marathons with ten Megumis on his back.

“Sure,” he concedes. That is the reason they called them, after all—not for Megumi to blatantly ogle the department’s newest addition.

The man steps closer, examining Megumi’s lower half. He circles him slowly, coming to a halt behind him. He smells like freshly cut grass, elderflower cordial, and lemonade; like sharing a kiss in front of the ocean, like salt and spray and satisfaction. Megumi catches Nobara’s eyes, which are twinkling with mischief, and realises he’s in big trouble. The other man smells like everything he’s ever wanted, and, judging from the way Nobara is watching him, he isn’t being remotely subtle about it.

Unable to see the other man, Megumi feels even more self-conscious. He knows he’s probably just assessing the situation, yet he can’t help but worry whether or not his butt looks good. It’s squeezed in unpleasantly; what if it looks weird? He lightly shakes his head, shooing the thought away—it doesn’t matter what his ass looks like. The only bottom he needs to worry about is rock bottom, where he currently resides.

Just then, he senses the fireman step up close behind him, making him stiffen in surprise.

“I’m Itadori Yuuji, by the way,” he murmurs in Megumi’s ear as he takes hold of the plastic encasing his hips. “I’m new in town.”

Megumi sucks in a deep breath. “Fushiguro Megumi,” he introduces himself. “I wish we met in different circumstances.”

“Oh?” Yuuji asks, voice low and amused. “What circumstances would you prefer?”

Megumi’s eyes widen: is the fireman flirting with him? Keeping his voice level, he replies, “Literally anything would be better than this.”

Yuuji hums. “I dunno. I’m rather enjoying this.”

Megumi stares straight ahead, overheating. It’s a very hot day, he reasons with himself. The rays beating down on the park must be the reason for his full body flush. He glances up; Nobara has a shit-eating grin on her face which Megumi doesn’t like the look of, and Aoi has wandered over to a spring-rider shaped like a rocking horse, examining it as if wondering if it’ll take his weight.

“I’m gonna push now, okay?” Yuuji warns, “Let me know if it hurts, I’ll stop.”

Megumi mutters his assent, thinking about other, much less public circumstances he’d like to hear Yuuji say those words in.

When Yuuji pushes, it takes everything in Megumi to keep from crying out. It’s really painful, way worse than when he and Nobara tried. The fireman is clearly insanely strong, shoving the frame down with a force far greater than their previous efforts combined, ramming it against Megumi’s bones.

He holds his breath as the plastic digs sharply into his hips, praying that if he withstands it, he’ll be free. Just as he’s convinced he can’t bear it any longer, Yuuji lets go. Megumi sighs in relief, blinking rapidly to keep the tears stinging his eyes from falling.

“Wowzers,” Yuuji says behind him. Nobara mouths the word back at Megumi in pleasant awe, as the fireman continues, “You’re really stuck, aren’t you?”

“Yeah.” Megumi feels resigned. What if this is his life now? What if he’s permanently trapped in a child’s swing, groin encased in plastic like some sort of twisted chastity belt? That would be awful for so many reasons, only half of which are to do with Megumi’s attraction to Yuuji. He really hopes he finds a way to free him.

The new firefighter moves to stand in front of Megumi, planting his hands on his hips and staring at him.

“How are we gonna do this?” he mutters to himself.

Nobara chooses that moment to resume her harassment. “You could butter him up,” she says, “Slip him outta there like a greased fish.”

Using only his eyes, Megumi tries to convey to her all the nasty things he plans on doing as vengeance for her running her mouth.

“I know,” she grins, ignoring his expression and snapping her fingers. “Maybe his clothes are the problem!”

Yuuji blinks, taking his chin in his hand as he focuses on Megumi’s crotch, examining him in excruciating detail as if trying to work out whether unzipping his trousers would help them or not.

“Nobara,” Megumi snarls.

“That’s not a bad idea,” Aoi replies lazily. He’s sitting on the spring-rider, which is touching the ground, bowed under his weight. Megumi might find it comical, if he wasn’t so distressed.

“I’m not taking my clothes off,” he growls.

“You sure?” Yuuji’s eyes flit to his face to hold his gaze. He spoke so quietly, no one but Megumi would have heard him, and his words render him speechless. Noticing his shock, Yuuji shoots him a quick, cheeky smile, before turning around and calling out to Aoi. “Can we dismantle the swing?”

Aoi shrugs, standing. The rocking horse bounces upright, springing back and forth in exultant freedom. “I’ll see what we’ve got,” he says, retreating to their vehicle.

“Are you sure you don’t want to lube him up?” Nobara asks.

Megumi is about to snap at her, when Yuuji turns back, that same brash smile on his face. “Maybe later,” he says with a wink, thereby emptying Megumi’s head of coherent thought. “We can do that as a last resort, or something.”

“Or something,” Nobara repeats, giving Megumi a significant look. He’s going to fuck you, she mouths at him, pointing a finger at Yuuji’s back. “And it’s all thanks to me!” she says aloud, jabbing her thumb at her chest.

“What is?” Yuuji asks.

“The fact that I’m stuck in this godforsaken swing,” Megumi grits out.

“I’d love to hear how that happened,” the fireman says, “You should tell me about it, over dinner sometime.”

“Uh,” Megumi replies, feeling his cheeks brighten once more. Behind Yuuji, Nobara punches her fist in the air, doing a little dance on the spot. “Yeah,” he continues, “Sure.”

At that moment, Aoi returns, slinging a toolbox into his partner’s arms.

“Let’s see what you can do,” he says to Yuuji, as if taking apart a swing was some grand test of strength, returning to the spring-rider to observe.

Yuuji shrugs and gets to work. He kneels before Megumi, head level with his crotch as he takes out various screwdrivers. He tests a couple of them on the swing’s bolts to find one that fits, and then begins to disassemble it. Megumi watches him work, admiring his strong jaw and powerful shoulders as he moves. He thinks about other circumstances in which he’d like to see the firefighter on his knees before him, and tries to calm down before his arousal renders the swing a necessary accessory.

When he’s finished unscrewing one side, Yuuji glances up. Their eyes lock with such potency that Megumi feels it catch in his chest, making him inhale sharply. At the action, Yuuji’s mouth stretches into a knowing smile, before he looks away to finish the job. Megumi bites his tongue, feeling dizzy. He needs some water.

A few moments later, Yuuji makes a happy noise and the pressure on Megumi’s hips falls blissfully away.

“Thank you,” he says earnestly, stepping free. “I owe you one.”

Yuuji smiles again as he reattaches the swing, standing up once he’s done.

“How soon can I cash that in?” he asks.

Megumi doesn’t follow. “What?”

“You said you owe me one. When can I take advantage of that favour?”

Megumi swallows. “It comes into effect Friday night.”

“Great,” Yuuji says. “Can I have your number?”

“My number?” he asks, stupidly.

“Yeah. So I can cash in the favour,” Yuuji explains patiently, sounding very amused. He licks his lips; Megumi zeroes in on them, transfixed, watching in fascination as Yuuji continues, “Also, in case something happens that I need to lube you up for.”

Behind them, Nobara belts out a sudden laugh.

Yuuji rubs the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “She wasn’t supposed to hear that,” he murmurs.

“That was an awful line,” Megumi says, voice somehow level despite the terrifying pace of his heart. He holds out his palm. “Phone,” he says, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity, despite having lost it long before the new firefighter arrived on the scene.

Yuuji hands it over. Feeling self-conscious, Megumi clumsily puts his number in the device. Pocketing it, the other man looks at him with an earnest excitement that Megumi finds ineffably charming. Yuuji opens his mouth as if to say something more—when Aoi’s work phone rings, loudly distracting them all.

Megumi doesn’t listen in, too focused on analysing Yuuji’s profile as he watches Aoi talk. He zones back in when the firefighter faces him again to say goodbye.

“I’ll text you,” Yuuji says as he walks backwards, brilliant smile leaving Megumi breathless.

He and Nobara stand in silence while they watch the vehicle pull away. Yuuji leans out the window to wave; Megumi raises his hand weakly in response.

When they’re out of sight, Nobara turns to him, grinning.

“Buy me lunch,” she says.

“No.”

“Come on,” she laughs, linking their arms to lead him away. “I just bagged you a boyfriend!”

“You did no such thing,” he mutters.

“Fine,” she says, “Buy me food after your date, when you’re official. I’m free on Saturday—let’s get brunch?”

Megumi nods, heart racing as his mind drifts, wondering when Yuuji will text him and what they’ll do on Friday. Today’s Monday—he can’t wait for the week to end.

Chapter Text

It’s Wednesday and Yuuji still hasn’t texted him. Megumi should have seen this coming. The whole thing was too good to be true: it didn’t make sense for the man of his dreams to ask him on a date in normal circumstances, let alone in one as mortifying as needing to be rescued from a swing.

He’s at the clinic; it’s been a slow morning. Yesterday, he had back to back appointments and therefore no chance to overthink, but now, with far too much time on his hands, he can’t help but reflect on Monday’s events, clicking his pen and tapping his foot as he turns things over in his head.

Yes, Yuuji is the most attractive man he’s ever met. Sure, he looks like he escaped from one of Megumi’s fantasies to materialise in muscular splendor before him. Indeed, he may be an envoy sent from Bacchus to tempt him to sin with his dangerously cute smile and gloriously beefy arms, not to mention his charismatic, easy flirting—but, Megumi reminds himself, he’s also just some guy. They met briefly, in circumstances he’d honestly rather forget, so he shouldn’t be so hung up on it.

And yet, he’s frustrated. However superficial it may have been, he felt a spark when they met and was excited to see where things went. Yuuji’s silence blindsided him: he thought the other man was a golden retriever in human form, and Megumi is an expert on golden retrievers. Pretty boys with sunshine smiles weren’t meant to ask for your number and then never send a text. It didn’t make any sense.

Megumi is loath to admit he misread the other man so badly. But convincing himself that the firefighter is actually an asshole is better than the alternative, which is realising that a genuinely nice, truly gorgeous guy lost interest in him in an instant.

Just then, the front desk notifies him of a walk-in client. Relieved for the distraction, he communicates that he’s ready.

When Yuuji walks in a minute later, cat carrier in hand, Megumi is so shocked he drops his pen. Stepping quickly forward, Yuuji smoothly places the carrier on the examination table to pick the fallen item up. When he stands, Megumi gets a whiff of his scent, making his breath catch in his throat. Yuuji still smells like heaven, like a sharp burst of citrus, of summer, comfort and kindness.

Their fingers brush when Yuuji hands him the pen, making that same spark Megumi thought he had imagined jolt between them.

“You didn’t text me,” he says, far too bluntly, regretting the words the second they leave his mouth.

He expects Yuuji to brush him off, to reject him or change the topic, not to sigh in relief.

“So you didn’t do it on purpose?” he asks, searching Megumi’s eyes with shocking intensity.

He frowns, confused. “Do what?”

Yuuji rubs the back of his neck, looking away. “Give me the wrong number,” he explains. “I texted you, uh. Maybe ten minutes after you gave it to me, and you never texted back.”

Megumi’s stomach drops before bouncing up into his throat. “It wasn’t on purpose,” he clarifies immediately, feeling ashamed. He spent the last two days making Yuuji the villain in his mind for no good reason, meanwhile Yuuji was convinced he’d rejected him. “I wanted you to text me,” he admits, feeling both sick and vulnerable as he seeks to remedy his mistake. “I was waiting for your message.”

“Oh,” Yuuji breathes, turning his golden gaze to Megumi’s face. “That’s good.”

His cat chooses that moment to let out a god awful, ear-splitting yowl.

“Ah,” Yuuji says. “Meet Sukuna, the most horrible cat in the world.”

Megumi raises his eyebrows. “Is he violent or just talkative?”

“He’s everything you never wanted in a cat and more, rolled into one big ball of fluff,” Yuuji says fondly. “He’s Satan’s spawn, an evil mastermind, and a little bit fat at the moment. He doesn’t have any self-control when it comes to snacking.”

“And who, pray tell, gives him the snacks?” Megumi asks pointedly as the other man opens the cage.

Yuuji laughs, “Okay, guilty! But, if I don’t do what he wants, he pisses on the carpet! He’s holding me hostage, I swear.”

Sukuna steps gingerly out of his carrier, looking around distrustfully. He’s an orange tabby, the likes of which Megumi’s never seen before in a domestic cat. He looks like a miniature tiger, only much, much fluffier. His ears are pointing to the side, the hackles on his neck are raised, and he’s swishing his tail in irritation, looking supremely wary and very aggressive.

“He’s quite handsome,” Megumi says as he watches the cat prowl around on the table in an amusing display of machismo.

Yuuji thumps a hand on Sukuna’s head to stroke him heavily from crown to tail. The cat grudgingly accepts the treatment, but doesn’t calm down in the slightest.

“Yeah, well, he’s mauled every vet I’ve ever taken him to, so watch out,” Yuuji warns.

Megumi hums, slowly reaching out with the back of his hand. Sukuna narrows his eyes, colour so saturated they look blood orange, as he leans forward to sniff him. After a moment, he visibly relaxes, softly licking Megumi’s knuckles, before bumping his head against his hand, demanding scratches and purring loudly.

“I think he likes me,” Megumi notes as Sukuna tries to make love to his hand with his head. Glancing up, the vet snorts when he sees the expression on Yuuji’s face, which is as scandalised as it is awed.

“Who are you and what have you done with Sukuna?” Yuuji stage whispers as he watches his cat cosy up to the vet, who does a routine check up in no time at all, thanks to Sukuna’s incredible compliance.

Once he’s finished, Megumi advises Yuuji to switch to a different brand of treats, which should satisfy the cat’s despotic whims whilst helping him lose some weight. When Sukuna’s back in his cage, there’s a pause in which Megumi knows he should give the other man his number, but can’t work out how to bring it up.

Thankfully, Yuuji’s way ahead of him, already pulling out his device. “Take two,” he says, as he opens up his contacts, handing his phone to Megumi.

“What did you text me?” he asks as he puts his number into the other man’s phone, reading it over twice to make sure it’s definitely the right one this time.

“Doesn’t matter,” the firefighter says far too quickly, reaching to take back his phone.

“Really?” Megumi withholds the item, curious about what Yuuji could be hiding.

“It’s nothing,” the other man insists. “Lame shit. Gimme my phone.”

“Tell me.”

“No,” Yuuji whines.

They stand there, locked in a battle of wills, until the other man caves.

“It was a terrible pick up line. I thought…” he sighs, “I thought you didn’t reply to me because of how bad it was. I thought I blew it.”

Megumi’s shocked that Yuuji reflected on it that much. He finds the image of him overthinking the text so endearing that he decides to relent.

“Okay,” he says, returning his phone. “You don’t need to tell me. Just, make sure to text me.”

“I’ll do it right now!” Yuuji perks up, quickly typing a message. Megumi feels his phone vibrate in his pocket, and pulls it out to look.

Hey there, hot stuff ;) the message reads. Blushing, Megumi puts his device away.

“So… Friday?” Yuuji asks, a happy grin on his face.

“Yeah,” Megumi confirms, feeling warmth spread in his chest as the other man beams infectiously at him. “Sounds good.”

Yuuji’s eyes crinkle as he smiles, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. He’s so handsome, Megumi thinks, unable to tear his eyes from the other man’s face.

Releasing his lip with a pop, Yuuji chuckles. “Right,” he says, “Yes. Uh, thank you. Bye.” He backs away, picking up Sukuna’s carrier as he makes his way to the door. “I’ll text you details! You better text me back this time!”

Megumi snorts. “Sure.”

Yuuji’s grin widens. “Okay. Bye!” he repeats as he leaves.

When he’s gone, the room feels emptier than usual, colder. Megumi takes a deep breath and smiles to himself. He can’t wait for Friday.