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“Are you serious?”
Gojo snakes an arm around his waist and tugs him closer, smile all too wide and bright that it puts the flames to shame. His back is pressed against the man’s chest, broad and warm. Megumi squirms underneath his touch, the bottle of beer in his hand tipping close to half-empty, half-full.
“Absolutely,” Gojo smirks, beaming down at him with fervent eyes half-hidden behind frolicking flames. The blue dances around the shadows and Megumi holds his breath, a little enchanted, a little besotted. But mostly, inexplicably, perturbed and agitated.
“You’re going to regret this,” Megumi says a-matter of fact, taking a sip from his beer and wincing at the staleness. He’s left it hanging around for far too long, left it cooling on the bar’s table while he let himself be talked to death by the man beside him. His eyes shift to look at the pale wrist hovering right over his tummy, the fingers threatening to slip right underneath his shirt. Megumi stiffens.
“Nah, I won’t,” Gojo simply says, raising his head and watching the people prance around the burning logs. Smoke rises in the air, and it fills Megumi’s lungs. He resists the urge to cough.
“She—”
Gojo raises a brow.
Megumi backtracks.
“He—”
Gojo clicks his tongue.
Megumi groans.
“They won’t care. At all. So, save yourself the trouble and—” he glares pointedly at the hand still messing around his waist, fingers dipping, curling, holding on to the pale skin hidden underneath an inked shirt. Megumi’s breath stutters. “Let go.”
“But you know how I am,” Gojo pitifully whines, dropping his chin low and digging into Megumi’s shoulder. The boy all but hisses, raising his free hand and pushing the man’s head away. He fails.
“I’m touchy. They won’t believe me if I don’t do this,” he mumbles, this time nuzzling into the soft skin of Megumi’s neck, breathing in deeply and exhaling softly. Megumi shudders.
“You’re fucking weak,” Megumi mutters. He feels the man smile over his skin.
“Just for tonight, Megumi,” he says, lifting his head and sending him another over-the-top grin that should make his stomach flutter, his heart beat faster. Instead, Megumi’s limbs coil for a fight-or-flight, fists clenched and ready to punch. He takes another swig of his beer, licking his lips as the older man rubs smooth circles over his shirt. Megumi swats the hand away.
“Who is it?”
Gojo hums. “What do you mean?”
The acrid taste fills Megumi’s mouth as he nods over to the dancing bodies around the bonfire. Their laughter ricochets in the air and Megumi subtly frowns. It’s not his type of crowd—to stand in the warmth of a flame, alcohol thrumming in his veins, as he throws away all caution to the win. They’re dancing around like they’re one step away from death, a last hurrah before they fall into the depths of whatever hell there is. Make the most out of it, they’ll say. Megumi drinks again. Too bad he’s never been that way.
“The one you want?”
Gojo stills. “Hm, that’s a secret.”
Megumi groans, turning around to face the man. “Are you fucking kidding—”
Hues of orange flicker around the man’s face, lighting up the blues in his eyes. Megumi’s words fall short, a little mesmerized, a little surprised at the deep gaze trained on him. They linger on his face, sweeping around the edges. His eyes glimmer faintly, a hint of amusement pooling in its depths. Megumi’s mouth frowns.
“You’ll see,” he singsongs and this time, Megumi listens to his instincts. He punches the man’s arm, relishes in the muffled whimper the man lets out, and settles back into Gojo’s arms like it’s the most natural thing on earth.
“You owe me,” Megumi mutters, downing the last of his beer before sending one final glare towards the man.
Gojo wheezes, clutching the side of his arm before chuckling to himself. The grin on his face puts the stars to shame.
“Whatever you want, Megumi.”
Megumi stares into his eyes, watches how they flicker and shimmer, and lets out a breath. If there’s one thing he’s sure of, Gojo always keeps his promises. Megumi glances at the crowd from the corner of his eye, sees one of the people look in their direction for a second longer than what he deems normal, and decides right then and there. Megumi abruptly turns around, Gojo’s hands slipping away as he goes on his tiptoes, leaning forward. Momentarily, Gojo freezes, stares with wide eyes as Megumi’s lips hover close over the skin of his cheek. At the sight, Megumi laughs.
“Are you nervous?” He whispers into Gojo’s ear instead, his own hand snaking around Gojo’s wrist to keep himself steady. Gojo blinks, then barks out a laugh. He resumes his previous ministrations, hands falling back into place on the small of Megumi’s back.
“Never.”
Megumi wrinkles his nose. “Liar.”
Gojo grins. “Not with you.” He holds him tighter. “Never with you.”
Megumi leans back slightly, eyes searching. Gojo stares back, open and honest—the sight leaves him almost breathless. Megumi bites his lips and pinches the man’s cheeks, hard enough that Gojo actually winces and curses in pain. He doesn’t push Megumi away.
“Come on,” Megumi finally says, rocking back on his feet and smirking to himself seeing the red blooming on the man’s pale cheeks. It’s a nice touch of rouge if Megumi’s being honest. He juts out his hand and waits for the man to take it. “You wanted to show them you’re with me, right?”
Gojo’s gaze travels down to the outstretched hand, traces the slender fingers and ivory skin, before reaching out and intertwining it with his. Megumi shivers at the contact, at the warmth seeping through his skin and the rough palms covering the entirety of his hand. Gojo smirks.
“Yeah,” he says, once again pulling Megumi closer until they’re hip to hip, flesh to flesh, bone to bone. He smiles. “Want to show them you’re mine.”
--
Mine.
Megumi’s face pinches at the words because he’s seen how Gojo treats his lovers. Seen how he holds them like a prickly bouquet of flowers, his arm a few inches off their waist, his smile stretched too thin and eyes too dim. Seen how he showers them with gifts, with chocolates and clothes and rings, but rarely looks them in the eye and say the words they want most. Seen how he whispers against their ear, lips brushing over the shell, and watches them shiver in his arms before pulling away slightly to laugh at their reaction, the joy never fully reaching his eyes.
Megumi hates it. Expects it even, given that he’s now in their shoes.
But Megumi’s wrong. Oh, so, very wrong.
Gojo clings to him like an overgrown koala, hands all over his arms, his waist. He tugs on Megumi’s hand, pulling him closer to his side while he shoots him an overconfident smirk. The alcohol thrums underneath Megumi’s skin, his face turning a light shade of pink. He rolls his eyes at the man’s expression, lips twitching as he lets himself get pulled away.
He ignores how the man’s fingers slot perfectly against his, how they clasp onto his own hand tightly, not wanting to let go. He ignores the not-so-subtle glares the man sends to everyone who shoots a curious look, lips stretched into an almost menacing smile as he shifts slightly and wraps an arm around Megumi’s shoulders. Megumi wrinkles his nose.
“Are you always like this?” Megumi mumbles, glaring pointedly at the arm around his shoulders. Gojo hums, still glaring at a person before turning his head to look at Megumi. Instantly, his face morphs into something more natural, something familiar—finicky and confident, handsome and distant. Megumi purses his lips.
“What do you mean?”
Megumi jabs at the arm on his shoulders. “You never acted this way with your exes.”
They’re about a few feet away from the bonfire and Megumi can already see his friends and Gojo’s friends hanging around. A few more strangers linger nearby and Megumi sweeps through their faces, taking a guess on who’s the unlucky person Gojo’s so infatuated with that the man’s doing something as stupid as faking a date.
“That’s because they’re not you,” Gojo states, loosening his hold on his shoulders and going back to simply holding Megumi’s hand. Megumi strains to hear the unspoken words, biting the inside of his cheek as they approach the blazing bonfire in the middle of the beach. He hears the waves crashing against the shoreline, muted and soft. Megumi’s thoughts are lost to the waves.
“I see,” Megumi finally replies, closing his eyes briefly and inhaling the salty air. He’s not going to think about it, he decides, allowing himself to give in to Gojo’s whims and his incessant tugs towards where the rest of their friends are. It’s all a ruse anyway and in the end, they’ll go back to how things are: Gojo, a complete nuisance, sticky yet distant, and Megumi, a hard-pressed soul, ever present yet difficult to hold. Megumi almost smiles at the thought, of how two opposites are stuck together whether by fate or choice, without a way to completely sever their ties.
“How long has it been?” Megumi murmurs out of the blue, green eyes flickering over to the flame in the distance. They sway with the wind; the ashes being blown away. Gojo hums again, swinging their arms.
“Do you mean us being a couple or—”
Megumi steps on Gojo’s foot and the man laughs, easily avoiding it once again. Megumi scowls.
“Us knowing each other.”
“Ah,” Gojo makes a show of counting his fingers. “Five, maybe six years?”
“So, you aren’t sure either.”
Gojo’s eyes narrowed into tiny crescent moons. “I was joking, Megumi!” He says in a high-pitched voice, too cheery and loud for Megumi’s taste. Gojo chuckles lightly. “It’s actually seven.”
“Seven,” Megumi echoes, the sand invading his slippers, digging into his soles. “You were horrible in high school, just so you know.”
Gojo gasps dramatically. “Megumi! I was nothing but sweet to you.”
“You almost threw milk at my face.”
“That was an accident and, in my defense, you looked too much like the guy who slipped trash into my shoe locker.”
“That’s what you get for wearing shades even indoors.”
“Megumi,” Gojo whines again, trying to smother his face into Megumi’s dark locks. Megumi tries to evade but this time he fails, trapped in strong arms as Gojo nuzzles into his hair. Megumi groans. He thinks he should let the man have his moment, considering that they haven’t spent time together recently.
Seven years, Megumi thinks, scowling as Gojo continues to make a home out of his hair. If he’s going to specific about it, it’s seven years since they first met, three years since they graduated high school, and one year since they last got together with their friends in their hometown. He glances at Gojo’s silver hair, watches how it sways with the gentle breeze and glistens under the moonlight. He purses his lips.
It’s been seven years and somehow, everything’s still the same. Gojo still texts Megumi every now and then—be it a random tidbit about his college life or a blurry picture of himself as he walks down the street, shitfaced and drunk. He still pesters Megumi to go out and have lunch with him, even if it’s the middle of finals week, just so he can see the boy and maybe, probably, leech off him just like old times. A token of friendship, he’ll say, eyes beaming as Megumi sighs, handing over the bills to pay for the Gojo’s bowl of ramen. In the end, he’s still the underclassman who’s taken under Gojo’s wing, annoyed yet very much endeared, somewhat.
Yeah, Megumi thinks, tearing his gaze away from Gojo’s face. Everything’s the same.
Except, maybe, now.
“God, you’re so fucking touchy,” Megumi finally spits out, breaking out of the memories and squirming in Gojo’s arms. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, calming himself. And yet— "It’s insane.”
“You’re my boyfriend though, so it’s fine.”
“It’s not real.”
“Hmm.”
Gojo still doesn’t let go.
Megumi sighs.
“Senpai—”
“Satoru.”
Megumi scrunches his nose. “What?”
“You have to call me Satoru.”
“Are you fucking—”
“Megumi.” His voice deepens and for once, Megumi thinks the man’s not joking. Megumi stills, arching a brow at Gojo’s tone. “Please? Just for tonight.”
And maybe he’s not the same either. He still glares at Gojo though, rolling his eyes at the stupid request, hands itching to drink more of his beer then walk around the beach with his friends as he leaves said man in the dust. But now, he catches himself groaning, muttering soft curses under his breath but nodding his head nonetheless. Again, his fingers slip right under his shirt, rough palms touching warm skin and—
“Just for tonight,” Megumi hisses, pulling away entirely and throwing another punch at Gojo’s arm. Gojo takes the hit entirely but somehow, the huge smile on his face feels as if it’s Megumi who lost.
“Just wanted to hear my name out of your lips, babe.”
Megumi burns.
“Holy fuck, are you for—”
“Megumi?”
He whips his head around, eyes widening slightly at the sight of his two friends, gobsmacked and slacked jaw. The wind blows again and Megumi shivers, frowning at the cool temperature. Gojo moves behind him slightly, angling his body to block the breeze. Megumi stares.
Gojo only smiles, eyes fixed on his two friends as he waves them on. Yuuji and Nobara gawk some more, a dazed and somewhat surprised expression flitting between their faces. Nobara snaps out of it first, taking a huge gulp out of her drink before barreling towards them.
“Are you and Gojo-senpai dating?”
Megumi blinks.
“I—"
He looks down at his hands and sees that Gojo has, somehow, managed to capture his while he was distracted. He shoots the older man a quiet glare and Gojo laughs, silent yet all too bemused. Megumi groans.
He squeezes Gojo’s hand—hard—and shoots his two friends a wry smirk. They narrow their eyes at their threaded fingers then back at Megumi’s tired face and Gojo’s ecstatic one. Megumi feels the rest of the beer he drank slowly climb up. When he looks back at his two friends, they’re still gaping at him, shock written all over their faces.
“Yes,” he forces out, a small frown on his lips while Gojo chuckles, waving their glued hands in the air. He reminds himself that in the end, this will all be worth it. Maybe he can ask Gojo to buy him that new mattress for the apartment he’s renting. Or maybe a month’s worth of free, expensive lunches from his favorite restaurant. Megumi almost smiles at the thought.
“Just recently too,” Gojo adds, sharp teeth glinting in the night. Megumi rolls his eyes, shooting the older man a deadpan look to which Gojo takes in stride. Megumi signals him with his eyes not to make it too complex, to weave a full-blown story that will have Megumi scrambling to follow. Gojo’s smile softens, and he squeezes Megumi’s hand back. He gets the message.
“Huh,” Nobara states. She sips her drink, lips puckering around the straw. “Can’t say I’m too surprised.”
Yuuji nod his head in agreement. “I’m happy for you, man.”
Megumi stills, brows furrowing because this wasn’t what he was expecting from his two friends. At all. They’re closer to the bonfire now and if Megumi walks a little more to the right, they’ll blend in with the crowd and have almost everyone know about their updated relationship status. God, he thinks. I really need a drink.
He doesn’t say his thanks, or anything really, content to just smile awkwardly at them, just a twitch of his lips while Gojo tugs on his hands.
“Megumi,” he says, pointing towards the bar, blue eyes glinting underneath the moonlight. “Want another drink?”
Megumi arches a brow and briefly wonders if the man read his mind. He can see Nobara opening her mouth, ready to ask another question—the specifics of his relationship with Gojo, most likely—when he jumps at the chance presented to him.
“Sure,” he abruptly says, already tugging Gojo’s arm towards the bar. “You pay, though.”
Gojo laughs. “Anything for you, babe.”
Megumi’s nose wrinkles at the pet name, resisting the urge to gag and punch another hole in the man’s chest. He sees Nobara actually gag while Yuuji hides his face at the term of endearment. His cheeks warm.
Gojo bids his two friends goodbye, all too smug and pleased that Megumi flicks the man’s arm with his fingers.
“You don’t have to call me that,” Megumi hisses, hand still wrapped around Gojo’s as they make their way to the bar.
“Aw, is Megumi shy over it?”
Megumi scowls, peering over his shoulder to check up on his friends. They don’t follow them, continuing their walk down the beach. “I’m not.”
“Then there’s no problem, is it?”
Megumi groans, punches Gojo’s arm again but misses. He curses. “We aren’t together,” he repeats, drilling the thought into Gojo’s thick skull.
Gojo leads Megumi to the bar, barely even stopping to greet the people by the bonfire who eagerly call out his name. Megumi thought the man would at least give them a glance, seeing as this is a bit of a reunion if anything. It first started as a small event planned by Megumi’s class president back in the day which somehow tumbled over to a whole ass beach trip where anyone can invite whoever they want. Which, if Megumi thinks more about it, must have been how Gojo ended up in this same beach with Geto and the other older students. Megumi frowns.
They arrive at the bar and Gojo immediately orders for Megumi. It’s the same drink as Nobara’s. “We are,” Gojo counters, shooting Megumi a cheeky smile. He bites the inside of his cheek, glaring at the older man before rolling his eyes.
“I still don’t think this is worth it,” Megumi mumbles as he waits for his drink. “Why don’t you just tell the person you like them? Stop beating around the bush.”
Gojo freezes. He keeps quiet, perhaps considering Megumi’s advice when he shakes his head.
“No can do.”
“What?”
“I mean,” Gojo slowly starts, smiling at some of their classmates who are also in the bar. “This is the only way I’ll get their attention.”
Megumi stares. “You’re really fucking hopeless, you know that?”
Gojo hums, shrugs his shoulders, then shakes his head.
“Hopeless but smart if you think about it.”
Megumi groans again, an insult ready to fall off his lips when the bartender arrives with his drink. He keeps his mouth shut then, preferring to just drink away the absurdity of it all. Gojo laughs, watching Megumi’s face pinch at the taste before mellowing once the sweetness hits his tongue.
They stay like that, standing next to each other while Megumi drinks his cocktail. Gojo talks some more about his days, the past week, the past months, leaning closer into Megumi’s space while he gazes into Megumi’s eyes. Megumi doesn’t back away though, doesn’t back down as Gojo continues to tiptoe around his edges and push his buttons. He’s halfway done with his drink but he finds himself smiling anyway at Gojo’s erratic storytelling, chuckling even at his bad jokes while countering with his own.
It's almost as if everything’s normal like this—them talking, idling, laughing. He still wants to kick Gojo sometimes, punch him in the face, shake his whole body to check if the man even has a brain. But he likes staying like this, content, at peace, simply listening to his voice and the things they missed throughout the years.
His head buzzes, skin warm.
Megumi forgets the hand in his own and the look of triumph, the look of happiness, settling into Gojo’s own face.
--
He’s drunk.
He blames it on the second cocktail he ordered—his own money, not Gojo’s—and the cool breeze on his flushed skin. He doesn’t recall Gojo ever looking away from him and, if he did, it’ll just be the blink of an eye. Throughout their whole stay, he wondered if Gojo accomplished his goal. He would scan the bar, green eyes landing on the next pretty face and lick his lips, gauging if they’re Gojo’s type or not. Whenever he did this though, he’d immediately feel a tap on his wrist followed by the weight of an arm around his waist.
“See anything good, babe?”
And every time Gojo did that, Megumi would flick his fingers against some part of the man’s body—his arm, his wrist, his forehead—only to be stopped mid-action, a heated palm wrapped around his thin wrists and pulling him closer, lips almost touching his rapid pulse beating right under his skin.
“So mean,” he’d whine and Megumi would flush, deep, dark, and red. Still, he couldn’t pull away, not when there’s this unknown person by the sidelines watching their every move. Not when Gojo’s expecting him to do his part in exchange for one hefty favor Megumi will be sure to use.
“You’re so annoying,” he’d reply, lips melded into a permanent scowl which Gojo fixes by rubbing his thumb on the corners of his mouth. Megumi flushed even harder.
“But you love it.”
Megumi’s thankful he wasn’t sober enough for that.
Now that the alcohol reached his head and his limbs, he’s stumbling out of the bar, Gojo’s arm still glued to his waist. Gojo greets whoever it is at the entryway before assisting Megumi back to the beach, to the sand and sea and breeze. Megumi huffs.
“I’m fine,” Megumi grumbles, trying to wiggle his way out of the man’s hold. They’re walking back to the bonfire and Megumi can already see a couple of their friends hanging out with some food in their hands. Megumi squints at the sight before giving up entirely, slapping Gojo’s arm away.
“I can walk on my own,” he groans, pushing the man’s sides with as much force as he can. Gojo doesn’t budge.
“No,” the man adamantly says, clicking his tongue in the process. “I know you like drinking but this—” Gojo shakes his head. “Excessive,” he mutters.
Megumi scoffs. “What’s excessive is your hand going places just where—” He yelps, feeling fingers dig deeper into his skin.
“Senpai.”
“Satoru,” Gojo says again, this time with a little bit of bite and a hint of exasperation. “Megumi, please.”
The alcohol must really be messing with his head because this time, Megumi doesn’t fight. Instead, he scoffs loudly, poking Gojo’s side while frowning all the same.
“Satoru,” he repeats, soft and quiet that he ends up hearing Gojo’s breath hitch at the sound. Megumi smirks. He goes up on his tiptoes, lips hovering over the shell of Gojo’s ear, and whispers. “Let me the fuck go.”
Gojo groans. “Megumi!”
Megumi chuckles, slipping away from Gojo’s grasp while the man’s still stunned. He’s trying not to think about his actions too much, the results of this charade when he can simply focus on having a good time. He smells something good coming from the bonfire and his stomach rumbles. He squeezes his eyes shut.
“I told you I’m fine,” he says again, wobbling a little on his feet but making sure to keep his back straight. When he opens his eyes, he sees Yuuji wave a hand at him, waving what seems to be a barbeque stick in his hand. Megumi hears Gojo mutter something under his breath before taking off and following his heels.
“You’re so stubborn,” he points out, the teasing, touchy personality now gone. If Megumi looks closer, or if he’s even sober to begin with, he would have seen the slight tinge of concern in his eyes and the sound of exhaustion creeping in his voice. Megumi tilts his head to the side, baring his neck as he stares at Gojo.
“Takes one to know one.”
A breeze passes by and Megumi shivers. Gojo sighs.
“Looks like I have no choice.”
Gojo ends up standing right in front of him, towering over his height. Megumi doesn’t cower. Instead, he lifts his head, green staring into blue, and arches a brow. He’s not one to back down.
“And what are you going to do about it?”
A few seconds pass before Gojo smirks.
“This.”
Megumi’s feet leave the sand and a choked-out sound escapes his lips. His hands scramble for purchase which just so happens to be Gojo’s shoulders. His eyes are wide as he stares down at the man below him, the blues glittering like the night sky. Megumi gasps, fingers clenching the soft fabric underneath. He glares.
“What the fuck?”
Gojo only grins, all teeth and gums. “If you wanted to be carried, all you had to do was ask.”
“I—” Megumi trips over his own words, the heat crawling all the way down to his neck and chest. “I do not!” He hisses, kicking his legs in the air while Gojo only laughs, high and bright. Megumi struggles in his hold, catching the eyes of several people in the area. They turn and stare at them, whispering to each other before giggling. Megumi considers kicking Gojo’s chest full force if it means the man will let him go. But then again—he watches Gojo’s smiling face, wicked and free. It almost, almost makes his breath stutter. He reaches for Gojo’s hair, fingers intertwining with the surprisingly silky strands, and tugs.
“You’re honestly insufferable,” Megumi mumbles, lowering his head so he can meet Gojo’s eyes. The man lets out a soft grunt, perhaps even enjoying the way Megumi’s glaring at him, hand still tugging at the silvery strands even though it brings a twinge of pain to his scalp. Gojo smiles.
“And yet here you are.”
Megumi pulls even harder and Gojo unabashedly lets out a low groan. For the second time that night, Megumi burns.
“Don’t make this weird.”
“Then stop pulling on my hair, hm?”
“Let me down.”
Gojo shakes his head. “Nope.” He readjusts his grip, hoisting Megumi even higher which causes the boy to wrap his legs around Gojo’s waist for fear of falling without his consent. When he glances at Gojo, he sees the corners of his lips rise into a victorious smirk and well, isn’t that annoying. Megumi rolls his eyes, punching the man’s shoulder in retaliation. This time, Gojo winces.
“Megumi!” He whines again, tone rising a few notches higher. “That wasn’t nice.”
It’s the alcohol, Megumi reasons when he feels the simmering heat right under his body, the touch of Gojo’s warm skin against his own. Gojo’s hands lay secure right under his thighs, keeping him locked in place. They’re just a few inches away from each other, the space not even worth mentioning, when Gojo throws him a faux hurt look, like Megumi’s punch did do irreparable damage. Megumi scowls, arms wrapping themselves around Gojo’s neck like a collar, a chain. In the back of his mind, the reason why they’re doing this in the first place resurfaces, like a splash of cold water on his face. He sighs.
“So, are you going to tell me if they’re here?”
Gojo’s previous expression is completely wiped away by Megumi’s question. “What?”
Megumi cocks his head to the side, somehow finding comfort in Gojo’s arms despite the awkward posture and close proximity. He’s trying hard not to think about it too much. “The person you like,” Megumi clarifies, still waiting for Gojo’s response.
Gojo stills and the silence, for once, unnerves Megumi.
“Senpai?”
Gojo tightens his hold, the blue in his eyes dimming. “Are you serious, Megumi?”
He’s missing something, that’s for sure but his intoxicated brain can’t keep up so all Megumi can do is scoff and rolls his eyes. “Just answer the question, Satoru.”
Gojo opens his mouth, a snarky comeback already prepared no doubt when someone clears their throat. Megumi whips his head around to the source of the sound and almost chokes at the sight of Geto holding a can of beer in one hand and a stick of barbeque in the other. He whistles.
“Nice to see you both getting along and deeply in love,” Geto comments, drinking the beer and sighing afterwards. Megumi pushes Gojo away, signaling the man to put him down and surprisingly, Gojo complies. He wobbles on his feet a little before Gojo reaches out and steadies him. He murmurs a thanks before turning back to look at Geto who only raises his brows at them.
“Nice to see you too, Suguru,” Gojo replies, deadpan and devoid of any emotion. Geto rolls his eyes. He turns to Megumi.
“Want a drink?”
Megumi’s about to reply when Gojo beats him to it.
“I’ll get him some water.”
Megumi gapes. “What? I don’t—”
“I’ll be back soon.” He turns to Megumi, sees his confused and appalled look before sighing and grabbing his hand, squeezing it lightly. He glances at Geto. The man shrugs, nodding his head and shooing him off.
“I got it, keep Megumi safe. Go get your water or something.”
“Don’t miss me too much, hm?” Gojo ruffles Megumi’s hair in what can easily be seen as something fond and Megumi slaps his hand away, grumbling under his breath as the man avoids it and skips back to the bar to get water. Geto whistles.
“Man’s whipped for you, huh?”
Megumi blanks. “What?”
“Your boyfriend,” Geto clarifies, taking a bite out of his barbeque. He chews it slowly then swallows. He smiles. “Congrats, by the way.”
It takes a few seconds to register that this whole play-pretend thing looks so real to others, including Gojo’s friend and even his friends. He holds back a sigh, lifting a hand and running it through his dark locks. They say alcohol makes you honest and maybe Megumi should come clean about his little arrangement with Gojo—at the very least to the person Gojo trusts the most.
“Actually we’re—"
“It’s about time that guy made a move, honestly,” Geto says, not hearing the soft mumble of Megumi’s words. He takes another bite of his food and shrugs. “He can’t keep up pretenses for that long.”
Megumi pauses, loses his train of thought, and stares at the profile of Geto’s face. He frowns.
“Well, isn’t that what he’s doing now?” The words naturally slip out and Megumi’s doesn’t even bother correcting it.
Geto ceases his eating.
“What?” Geto asks, confusion warping his features. His fine brows knit and curl, bewildered at Megumi’s revelation. “Are you saying he doesn’t like you?”
“What?” This time, it’s Megumi who reels back, eyes wide. Geto snorts.
“Why are you the one’s that’s surprised? Isn’t he your boyfriend?”
Megumi opens his mouth like a gaping fish. He feels lightheaded.
“It’s fake,” he rushes in, similar to his blood rushing up his cheeks. He scowls. “He’s doing it to make the person he likes, the real one, jealous.”
Geto freezes, jaw dropping slightly. “What?” It’s his turn to look utterly lost and confused, staring at Megumi as if the boy grew a second head. “You’ve got to be joking.”
Megumi shakes his head.
“He wanted to pretend that we’re in a relationship so he can make the person he likes jealous.”
Geto stares.
“What?” Geto repeats, eyes blinking rapidly at Megumi’s explanation. “No, no way.” He takes a long sip from his can of beer, eyes narrowing in contemplation. “I doubt that’s real.”
Megumi wrinkles his nose. “No, it’s the truth.”
Geto barks out a laugh. “Fuck, Satoru that idiot,” he says, more to himself than for Megumi to hear. He turns his head and faces Megumi. “Is that what he told you?”
Megumi pauses.
“Well,” he starts, rocking on the balls of his feet. “It was implied.”
He takes another gulp out of his beer. “Jesus.”
Megumi eyes the drink with jealousy and when Geto sees it, he laughs again. He gestures for Megumi to follow him, and he does so without a word. They walk towards the bonfire, the heat blending in with the warmth Megumi’s feeling underneath his skin. Geto greets some of the people there, nodding at their words before leading Megumi to a large cooler at the side. He cracks it open and grabs a can of beer, wiggling it slightly while Megumi bends down to retrieve it. In the back of his mind, he can already see Gojo narrowing his eyes at him, whining and groaning at Megumi’s lack of self-control when it comes to alcohol. Megumi snorts at the thought.
“You sure Satoru won’t get mad at you for that?” Geto nods his head at the drink and Megumi shrugs, taking a long sip out of it. The taste hits his tongue and he puckers his lips at the familiar, sour taste. Geto laughs.
“Maybe,” Megumi finally replies, draining about half of his drink. “Not like it’ll stop me though.”
Geto chuckles. “Good luck with that then.”
Megumi arches a brow. “What do you mean?”
He gestures to look behind and when Megumi turns, he sees Gojo with narrowed eyes, a bottle of water in one hand and a can of ginger ale in the other. The taller man scowls deeply, shortening the distance between in few, easy steps. His gaze lands on the can of beer in Megumi’s hands. It’s piercing and sharp and for a second there, Megumi almost closes up on himself.
“You’re drinking,” Gojo states, still staring at the can of alcohol. Megumi licks his lips, glances at the drink in his hands then at the ones in Gojo’s. He gulps.
“Was thirsty,” he mumbles, refusing to meet Gojo’s eyes. He turns to Geto for help, the man half the reason he’s in this sticky situation but Geto only shrugs, taking another long sip before waving them off and returning to his other friends sitting by the bonfire. Megumi’s jaw drops. The audacity.
“I thought I said no more drinking,” Gojo says, lips pressed thin as he glares at Megumi’s hands. Megumi pauses, then rolls his eye and makes a show of taking another sip, slow and languid. He’ll never admit it, but a hint of guilt crawls up his throat. He shouldn’t even feel that way because it’s his body, his liver really, in the first place. He glances at Gojo and sees the subtle twitch in the man’s eye from his actions. Megumi smirks.
“What a caring boyfriend,” he drawls, half in mockery, half in sincerity. He’s about to drink again, throwing all caution to the wind when Gojo scoffs, easily switching the drinks in Megumi’s hands. Megumi gapes, eyes wide at the clear plastic bottle in his hand. He whips his head around, instantly regretting it after due to the wave of dizziness that hits him. He raises a hand and rubs his temples, eyes narrowed at his can of beer in Gojo’s hands.
“Give that back!” Megumi silently growls, fingers itching to steal it away from the man’s grasp. Gojo laughs, raising the drink above his head that Megumi has to go up on his tip toes to reach it.
“No can do, bunny. You’re going to regret it tomorrow morning if you keep this up.”
Megumi huffs, grimacing a little. He doesn’t comment on the new pet name. “Like how you’ll regret dating me?”
Gojo narrows his eyes, face growing solemn. “Never.”
It must be the alcohol, Megumi thinks, as he gazes deep into cerulean blues. For a moment there, Megumi thinks the man’s actually serious. That if they do date, no matter the consequence, no matter the ending, he wouldn’t have it any other way.
Geto’s words ring in Megumi’s head, throwing him into a loop. Gojo continues to stare, the corner of his mouth lifting when he sees Megumi’s stunned expression. He chuckles.
“Come on.” He throws the can of beer in a nearby trash bag and Megumi silently laments at its remaining contents. Gojo easily slips his hand in Megumi’s, like it’s the most natural thing in the world, and pulls him towards the crowd. “Let’s go meet with the others.”
Megumi stumbles, a curse ready to fall out of his lips when he pauses and looks up to meet Gojo’s sly smile. His stomach churns.
“Falling for me already, Megumi?”
“Fuck you,” he hisses, squeezing Gojo’s hand with as much force as he can. It only earns a delighted laugh out of the man.
“That can be arranged.”
Gojo gets hit multiple times as they walk towards the crowd.
--
“You guys look so in love it physically pains me to see you two together,” Nobara comments offhandedly, munching on some chips she stole from, most likely, Panda’s stash. She nudges Yuuji and offers him the bag of snacks which he gratefully accepts. The two continue to eat, ignoring Megumi’s throbbing temple at his friend’s words.
His head’s a little clearer now given that he’s drank half the water bottle Gojo gave him. He sits on the sand, fingers fiddling with the cap as he glances at his two friends, peacefully enjoying those salted chips while holding on to their bottles of beer. He sighs.
“We’re not,” he mumbles, twisting open the cap and taking another gulp. Nobara snorts at his reply while Yuuji only chuckles. His grip on the bottle tightens.
“Denial isn’t a pretty look on you by the way.” She takes a swig of her beer and grins. “You can’t fool anyone with how both of you were acting a while ago.”
Megumi purses his lips. After Gojo dragged him towards the bonfire, they met up with Yuuij and Nobara who were chatting nearby. The two waved them over and Gojo greeted them but not before telling Megumi that he has to go find Geto to talk about “important matters” which was basically a code for telling off the guy for giving Megumi a drink. Gojo let go of his hand then but not before leaning down so that he’s eye-level with Megumi, eyes twinkling in mischief. He ruffled Megumi’s hair, an almost fond look crossing his features, before walking away with the ginger ale still in hand.
Megumi looks back on all of these, picks apart the details, then rolls his eyes because there’s nothing romantic about that at all. He says this to his two friends which only earns a look of disbelief on Nobara’s face and plain doubt on Yuuji’s.
“But you guys were holding hands,” Yuuji points out.
“And he was carrying you,” Nobara adds.
Megumi groans.
“It’s not a big deal,” he mumbles, hand reaching for Nobara’s bag of chips. The girl swiftly evades him though, nose scrunching at Megumi’s words.
“Yeah, right. And that lovestruck look on Gojo-senpai’s face? Not to mention yours?” She scoffs, shoving more food in her mouth. “Disgusting.”
“What do you mean my face?” He lifts a hand and feels for his cheek.
“You were smiling,” Yuuji pops in, mouth forming a small grin. “You looked happy.”
“Yeah, and you were very red in the face, mind you.” Nobara dusts off some sand from her knees. “Did the guy do something to you?”
Megumi thinks back to the moment Gojo held him, chests pressed close, and legs wrapped around the man’s waist. His cheeks go aflame.
“Fuck off,” he mutters, finishing the last of his water. “And I wasn’t smiling,” he clarifies, shaking his head at Yuuji’s observation.
Yuuji raises a brow. “Nobara’s right.” He drinks more of his beer. “Denial really doesn’t look good on you.”
Megumi groans.
“It doesn’t feel real,” Megumi confesses, a half-truth in the midst of his lies. “What if it’s all a joke?” He presses, chuckling to himself because, in a way, it is one.
He feels his two friends stare at him, an unreadable look on their faces. He glances at them and cocks his head. “What?”
Yuuji shakes his head while Nobara sighs, heavy and tired. “You should talk this out with your boyfriend.”
“Huh?”
“I feel bad for Gojo-senpai,” Yuuji adds in, clicking his tongue. “He’s been in love with you since high school and you still think he’s not sincere.”
Megumi’s head spins. “What?”
“Speaking of Gojo-senpai.” She raises an arm and waves wildly. Megumi turns around and sees the man himself approaching them, a bag of ginger flavored ships in one hand and the same ginger ale in the other. Megumi’s stomach flips.
“Go ask him instead,” she finishes, standing up and jutting out a hand for Yuuji to take. The pink haired boy hauls himself up and pats down his shorts, tapping Megumi’s shoulder in what seems to be encouragement.
“It’s not good to be insecure, Megumi.”
Megumi bristles. “I’m not.”
“Ah, Gojo-senpai.” Nobara hops over to the taller man and pats his shoulder. “We’re leaving Megumi in your capable hands.” She faces Megumi and winks at him. “Your boyfriend’s having a bit of a fit here so best you solve that soon, hm?”
Megumi pales. “Nobara!”
“See you later, Megumi!” Yuuji calls out, trailing after Nobara as they go to where the others are. Gojo watches them, the corner of his lip rising in amusement. Megumi huffs and the man instantly turns to face him.
“What did they say?”
Megumi doesn’t answer him. Gojo hums, stands still for a few seconds more, before plopping down right next to him. Gojo nudges Megumi’s arm with the bag of chips—his favorite—and it only takes a few more seconds of pestering before Megumi breaks, snatching the food from the man’s hands. Gojo laughs.
“Just tell me who it is already,” Megumi grumbles, opening the bag and shoving a hand inside. He grabs a few pieces and pops them in his mouth. He wants to prove everyone on this beach wrong.
Gojo hums. “What do you mean who?”
Megumi glares and Gojo snickers. The man calms down after a beat though and opens the can of ginger ale, giving it to Megumi who only takes it without a word. Gojo smiles.
“Who do you like?”
Seconds pass and all Megumi hears is silence. His eyes remain fixed on the fire, the flames crackling and blazing. All the way at the other side, he sees Geto holding a pack of ice, placing it over his arm. Next to him is Panda and Nobara, probably bickering since the girl stole yet another snack. Megumi takes a sip out of his drink and unconsciously, he sighs in contentment. It’s his favorite drink as well.
“If I tell you,” Gojo starts, leaning back on his two arms as he stares up at the night sky. “I feel that you’ll hate me.”
The answer takes Megumi by surprise. He pauses his drinking, turning his head to face Gojo with an incredulous look on his face.
“That’s so stupid,” he blurts out and, well, maybe he’s still a little drunk because he ends up saying more than he should. “You’re annoying, a pain in the ass, and sometimes a little brainless if you ask me but I’d never hate you.” He shakes his head. “There’s always exceptions to the rule though, like if you murder my sister or something but I’m sure,” Megumi stares up at the moon too. “Whoever it is, I wouldn’t hate you.”
Again, silence.
Megumi sighs, cursing himself a little for spewing a monologue when Gojo giggles. Giggles. He whips his head around to look at the man and all he sees is a blindingly, bright smile and the bluest of eyes staring him down.
“That’s what I like about you, Megumi.”
Megumi’s heart skips a beat.
“That’s good to know,” he deadpans.
Gojo laughs again.
“Alright, I’ll tell you.”
Unconsciously, Megumi straightens, eyes shining with curiosity and anticipation. Gojo chuckles.
“Close your eyes.”
Megumi wrinkles his nose. “Why do I need to close my eyes if you just have to say it?”
“Megumi,” Gojo whines again, tugging on the edge of Megumi’s shirt playfully. “Indulge me for a second here.”
Megumi sighs, rolling his eyes at the older man but accepting the request anyway. His eyes flutter shut and waits for Gojo’s words. He hears the waves crashing, his friends laughing, and Gojo’s soft breathing just inches away. Megumi holds his breath.
A few more seconds pass with complete and utter silence from the man. He’s about to quip back, plunder the man with sharp words because how long is this going to take—when he feels a hand slither to the back of his neck, pulling him closer. And then the brush of lips, light and airy, over the skin of his forehead. His eyes snap open.
They’re close—closer than friends, less than lovers. Gojo leans back, blue eyes searching Megumi’s green ones. His throat goes dry.
“It’s you,” Gojo whispers, so low Megumi isn’t sure if he heard the man right. “I like you, Megumi.”
Megumi chokes.
This can’t be real.
“Then the dating—”
“Mhm.”
“And then Geto—”
Gojo laughs. “Yeah.”
Megumi gapes. “You’re so fucking stupid.”
Gojo shrugs, the hand never leaving Megumi’s nape. Long, slender fingers toy with the strands of his hair, curling them around before tugging them lightly. The man hums. “Yeah.”
Megumi shivers.
“Why?”
Gojo leans forward again and presses their foreheads together. He closes his eyes while Megumi’s remain open. From here, Megumi can count his long, thick lashes. Watch them flutter every so slightly against sculpted cheeks. Megumi licks his lips.
“I just do,” Gojo confesses, pulling away a bit to look at Megumi’s face clearly. “So what do you say, Megumi?” He releases Megumi from his hold only to grab his hand, intertwining their fingers once again.
Somehow, Megumi doesn’t fight it at all.
“Want to date? For real this time.”
Megumi stares, heart pounding, gut bubbling, ears ringing.
“Are you serious?” He chokes out again, incapable of thinking, believing, any of this is real.
Gojo nods his head. “Yeah.”
“You’re going to regret this,” Megumi says again, reliving their agreement moments prior. This time Gojo snorts, shaking their clasped hands.
“I won’t.” He leans in and kisses Megumi’s cheek this time, the action swift and deliberate. Megumi stammers. Gojo grins. “Believe me.”
Megumi shudders.
“So?” Gojo continues and nudges Megumi with his shoulder. “Your answer?”
He’s trying not to think about it, the implications of it all. How Gojo created this whole fiasco just to watch him fall into his hands. How he treated Megumi like everything was real, is real, and Megumi was just blind to it all.
He still isn’t sure, still doesn’t know what to make out of everything that happened but looking into Gojo’s eyes, that small hopeful smile, his chest starts to squeeze and his breath hitch. His friends may think they’re both in love—with each other no less—but Megumi still doubts. Still wonders.
There’s only one way to find out.
He blinks and scoffs, ignoring the warmth on his cheeks and the growing smile on Gojo’s face. The man already knows him too well.
“You do know what this means right?” Megumi asks, waving their hands in the air. Gojo nods his head.
“Of course, babe.”
Megumi groans.
“You owe me multiple favors now.”
The man laughs.
“Absolutely.”
“And a lifetime supply of free lunches”
Gojo rolls his eyes.
“That’s a given.”
“And,” Megumi trails off, taking a deep breath before clutching the collar of Gojo’s shirt. “This.”
He pulls the man forward, lips crashing and bumping into each other. It isn’t suave or magical by any means, but it feels right, even with the pain and awkwardness of their noses bumping into each other. Gojo chuckles underneath Megumi’s hold and Megumi retaliates by biting Gojo’s bottom lip. The man groans.
“Megumi,” he breathes, eyes darkening, lips red and bitten. Megumi’s not an expert but judging from the way Gojo’s eyes narrow into thin slits makes his chest bloom with pride. This means that he can at least do something.
“What do you say?” He asks, a mock rendition of Gojo’s earlier question.
And well, with the way Gojo pushes him down on the sand, uncaring if it gets into Megumi’s hair and shirt at all, is more of an answer than anything else.
Yeah, Gojo Satoru’s serious indeed.