Archive of Our Own

It was a barren wasteland with as much food as there was company. No one could survive on their own, especially not a kid who was in the middle of a school day when word of a nationwide lockdown swept through the news. His class had dwindled to a mere five students due to an undisclosed sickness that had taken out classmates and staff alike. The seasons were changing and they were at the crossroads between a chill winter and a warm spring – Yuuji assumed it was natural for many to come down with a cold, just like any other year before.

He didn’t think much of it as he packed his bags and headed home from a shortened school day. He couldn’t have realized the underlying meaning of lockdowns. He couldn’t have understood why there was even a need for one. But that was the last time he went to school, the last time he saw his four other classmates and a homeroom teacher whose name escaped him after various circulations – after each new teacher eventually fell ill, missed a day, then took a sudden “leave of absence.” It was also the last time he ever returned home.

The week following the lockdown announcement was boring, to say the least. Yuuji was kept inside due to his mother’s insistence. He crafted innumerable plots inside his head on how he would escape, but never had the chance to follow through with any of his cheap ploys. Not when he saw his mother, day-in, day-out, at the kitchen table, hunched over with her eyes closed and phone clutched to her head. To him, she looked to be praying.

His father, a doctor, hadn’t returned home since the lockdown began. Yuuji didn’t watch the news (couldn’t really give much understanding to what was ever being said), but it was almost always on in his household. Word of buildings set ablaze, aggressors wreaking havoc, and terror filling the nation all became part of daily occurrences. Enough so that it wasn’t really news anymore. However, there was no word of his father’s place of work. Bigger cities were chaos-prone, but in their small, quaint town with only one hospital an hour out, things remained an eerie calm. 

Yuuji asked about his father over the course of a few days, wondering when he would return home, but the words of hesitant reassurance from his mother made him stop. She would offer him a tired smile and tell him everything was alright. But as much as Yuuji wished to latch onto those words, and attempted to persuade his mind and heart into believing them, he still felt her shaking when she held him.

Multiple nights passed before Yuuji awoke to the sound of the front door opening and hushed murmurs from two separate voices. He realized his father had finally come back.

Yuuji shot out of bed to meet him. Sleep and tiredness were forgone as he pattered down the steps and into the kitchen, where he was greeted by his father embracing his sobbing mother. Her shoulders shook as his father held her close, petting her head and rubbing circles into her back. He whispered in her ear: It’s alright. And, contrary to when his mother said the same thing all those weeks before, it felt as though everything was going to be alright. That everything was going to be okay again.

In the moment, too engrossed at that present time, he failed to notice the layer of bandages that peeked out from under his father’s sleeve.

“Yuuji. Yuuji, wake up.” He stirred in his sleep, turning around under the tattered blanket and sleeping bag. “We need to move while there’s sunlight.”

“Five more minutes…” He mumbled, hoping to pick up where he had left off in his dream. However, a dull drop against his side prevented him from doing so. He peered over to his side, blinking the sleep from his eyes as he zoned in on the duffle bag that laid sadly against him. 

“There aren't five minutes to spare. Come, I made us breakfast.”

The offer of food was able to register among his hazy thoughts. Somehow Nanami could make a gourmet meal out of a can of tuna, some type of grain, and a miscellaneous assortment of spices. Yuuji would have even claimed that his cooking was only second to being the best – the best which was his mother’s.

Kento Nanami, a man without much information aside from being an office worker prior to the pandemic, picked Yuuji up when he was scavenging through scraps and garbage behind a family diner chain. That was five years ago. He since then became his unofficial guardian.

He fed him, clothed him, and taught him a number of essential skills, including how to handle a gun, pitch a tent, and improve his reading comprehension. The man loved books and often swore literature was a necessary art that needed to be kept alive, especially as the world came to an end. Since “It’ll be something carried into the next world,” or so he said, “If we are both fortunate to live so long.”

Albeit sometimes a tad pessimistic, he cared for him in a space where kindness was scarce when survival meant looking out for yourself. There were times Yuuji felt guilty for posing as a burden to Nanami, for being the reason they needed to ration their food supply even more; for being the reason Nanami couldn’t fully sleep through the night to watch over him; for their beginning days when Yuuji first begged to join Nanami on his trip and ended up posing to be more of a handful than helpful.

He never conveyed these internalized worries to the older, out of fear that he would agree and cast Yuuji aside. But even without the anxiety, he didn't need to vocalize these thoughts.

There was a time when Yuuji, so desperate to be of assistance, went off on his own to gather supplies upon noticing they were running short. During his scavenging through an abandoned supermarket, he was ambushed by the diseased .

He was only able to make it out due to Nanami’s timely rescue. If not for the older’s quick thinking and aptitude for combat and weaponry, the next time Yuuji would've seen sunlight was among the clouds.

However, they didn't leave unscathed.

Neither were infected, but shallow cuts among deeper wounds littered Nanami’s arms and other patches of exposed skin.

As he bandaged himself up, in between Yuuji’s sniveling and apologizing, he told him, “You do not need to force yourself to do more than what you are capable. Please understand that being a child is not a sin. You will learn in time and I will teach you in time.” Yuuji only cried harder after hearing that, however, he also felt a greater sense of security around the older. 

His comfort didn’t come without punishment. His workload and chores increased by tenfold the following month

Yuuji yawned, rubbing the rest of the sleep from his eyes as he made his way to the house’s kitchen. They were fortunate to find a secluded home, free of the diseased and boarded up enough to not need extensive precautionary measures. There was no running water and the gas was turned off, but at least it allowed them a secure space to rest.

They stayed for a few days to recuperate before moving again – something about meeting a friend of Nanami’s in the next city over. It was a long haul that required multiple stops from their last safe point. Regardless, they had also expended the last of the resources from the small town, so it was time to continue on.

By the turn of dawn, they left the house and returned it to its former empty glory. Nanami told him their target destination was at least another two days away, longer if trouble occurred. 

It lasted four. The closer they were to the city, the more populated it became.

Diseased ran rampant, forcing the duo to find alternate routes, which added hours to their travels to navigate around unwarranted confrontation. Needless to say, they were exhausted. But Yuuji no more than Nanami who was responsible for the bulk of their safety and driving. Yuuji had driven a few times before – Nanami gave him a crash course – but a handful of near-death close-calls had both of them agreeing that he needed a bit more experience first.

Relief befell them when a large building came into view, bound and protected by upstretched walls and fencing, almost resembling a decked-out row of townhouses merged together. Definitely not the most inconspicuous place, it seemed like a statement piece. Erected to the heavens with stable ties to the earth as it stretched on for some blocks. A clear call for attention – perhaps as an ode to its owner.

“How long will we be bunking here this time?” After entering the ‘fortress,’ Yuuji began to cycle through unpacking protocol: popping the trunk, moving the heaviest necessities out first, and then following with the lighter load.

Nanami did the same, pulling out crates of miscellaneous supplies and then hoisting bags of protective gear – most makeshift, some lucky finds – that accumulated over time. “Most likely a month.”

“Eh?!” Yuuji struggled to juggle a stack of suitcases as they nearly tumbled from his grasp from shock. That was the longest they stayed anywhere, abandoned or populated. “Does that mean I can unpack my clothes here? Are there drawers? Is there hot water?!”

“Why don’t you ask the head of the house.”

Head of the house?

Upon cue, a flash of white and a guttural scream of ‘Kento’ were the sole warnings given before coming face to back with a tall, silver-haired male who had attached himself to his protector. Arms tightly wound around his head with legs around his waist. Yuuji worried about whether or not Nanami could breathe.

“Kentooooo~ What took you so long? You were meant to be here ages ago! I got worried, I was so lonelyyy…” The unnamed man rubbed his cheek against the top of Nanami’s head, throwing his already unkempt blonde strands into further disarray.

“Gojo, please release me.” Despite his muffled pleas, he did have his arms wound around the man named ‘Gojo,’ one supporting his thighs, the other his lower back. It was an odd sight for Yuuji who had never imagined Nanami as the type for skinship – or rather allowing anyone to engage in whatever term would be used to describe his position with Gojo.

“No! This is my compensation for waiting. You must now carry me to my room!” Even behind the mass most likely blocking all airways, Yuuji could hear – maybe just sense – a heavy sigh escape from his guardian.

“Yuuji,” Nanami called, trying his best to wiggle his head free from Gojo’s embrace and duck into the space under his arm. “I apologize but can you unpack the rest yourself?”

He nodded, though spoke up after realizing perhaps he couldn’t be seen right now, “Don’t worry, Nanamin, I got this!”

“Thank you. If you do run into trouble, ask Megumi for assistance.” Yuuji could only nod before the man was already entering the building with the other in tow. It wasn’t until he was carrying out the last of their baggage did he realize he missed the chance to ask a potentially crucial detail: Who was ‘Megumi’?

It wasn’t long before Yuuji crossed paths with the raven-haired boy. But it did take an unreasonable period of time to realize that he was the fabled ‘Megumi’ – Megumi Fushiguro, which he would later learn – mentioned. Embarrassing when considering the lack of people in the large complex.

When they first met, there weren’t any formal introductions. It was as cut-and-dry as his first interaction with Nanami. A simple “You’re Itadori, correct?” to an immediate “This is where you can store your things” and “This is where you will be sleeping” – nothing more than a walking-talking map to the inflated residence space.

No words wasted, no phrases spared. He looked about Yuuji’s age but behaved beyond his years. However, at the end of their tour, he tagged on a generous “If you need anything, my room is right down the hall from yours.” Even if just a customary act of pleasantry and not an offer actually meant to be taken, it was an appreciated sentiment.

If he hadn’t seen Gojo for himself, he would’ve assumed Megumi was running the place. And even after meeting Gojo, it wasn't clear whether his earlier interaction with him – or rather him intruding as a spectator to an unforeseeable moment – was real or some fabric of his exhaustion.

He would’ve believed it was the latter if not for an outpour of muffled giggles and what sounded like “I told you to call me Satoru” on the fifteenth floor during his exploration of the building. With the additional lack of running into Nanami, Yuuji wondered if he was the recipient – or participant – of all those noises.

The sun had begun to set when Yuuji padded his way to the kitchen. During their travels, Nanami made a point of having scheduled meals when possible. As a result, it trained Yuuji’s appetite to work like a sundial.

As he neared the kitchen, he noticed a glow coming from its entryway. Someone had left the lights on.

He rounded the corner as a figure came into view, sitting upright alone at the table with a book consuming their attention.

“Oh hey, it’s you … Megumi?” The lilt in his tone and how he drew out the last syllable in the name were telling of Yuuji’s uncertainty.

“Fushiguro.” The boy corrected, attention remaining fixated on the page.

“Megumi … Fushiguro?”

“Mhm.”

“That’s your full name?” He was met with silence, which Yuuji took as confirmation. When silence filled the space and he sensed that the conversation was over, he walked over to the table and welcomed himself to the least rickety-looking chair. He busied himself with picking at the few spots that were splinting away from the main slab of wood, but he was never good at sitting in complete silence. Not without something to entertain him at the very least. “So,” he began, “is it just you and Gojo in this whole place?” A dumb question as though he didn't spend his time exploring the expanse of the entire building and then some.

“For the most part.” Yuuji perked up when he received a response, thankful that the inquiry wasn't stupid enough to deter the other. It encouraged him to continue the dialogue.

He folded his arms over the table and propped his chin on top of them, eyes searching for Fushiguro’s who had still refused to spare him a glance. “Wow. Must be rough having to maintain this large building.”

“It’s a pain but it at least keeps me busy throughout the day.”

“So you don’t spend your time doing anything else?”

Fushiguro turned to him with an arched brow, near calling him stupid without needing to verbally do so. Yuuji would’ve been offended if he wasn’t so pleased to finally lock gazes. “If you hadn’t realized, there’s nowhere to go and not much to do during the end of the world.”

“What do you mean? There’re tons of things to do!” He sat back upright, spreading his arms up and out, and gestured widely at the empty surrounding space. “You have all this time and all this space to do with it what you will. You must’ve tried to pick up a hobby or two to keep yourself from eternal boredom.”

“I have.” He returned to reading his story, much to Yuuji’s dismay. “I read all the books available in the house and then all the new ones Nanami and others bring with them when they visit.”

“Sounds … thrilling …” Yuuji settled back down to slump over the tabletop.

Fushiguro scoffs and side-eyed his companion. “Then what do you consider ‘fun’?”

“Well, being on the road this whole time and trying to not die during the day or night have been taking up most of my free hours, but,” he pursed his lips, “...I guess I enjoy cooking.”

“That’s unexpected,” Fushiguro admitted. “We’ve been living off of instant curry and ramen since Nanami was last here.”

“Oh, I would think with this being a safe house and all,” he waved a hand at nothing in particular, “you would have more food around.”

“We do. But neither Gojo nor I can cook. I’ve tried to learn from Nanami but he doesn’t stay long enough to teach.” He had set his book down on its spine with his progress bookmarked by his thumb and forefinger and turned his attention back onto Yuuji. Not that it ever left him, the latter will later realize in hindsight. “When he does, he’s often caught up in Gojo’s antics.”

“I could teach you.” Yuuji offered, thrilled by the idea of sharing his passion with another. “I’m no expert but one of the first things I learned how to do on my own was cook. I was a latchkey kid so taking care of myself was sort of second nature.” He thought back to the weeks before the end of his childhood. Thought back to the longest time he had seen his mother at home. Thought back to how if it was a different situation, if he knew death loomed at their doorstep, perhaps he might've cherished the company more.

The boy across from him gave him a once over. Then twice over. Yuuji knew he had been waiting for Fushiguro’s reciprocated notice, but he felt embarrassed being stared at so intensely. “I don’t know if I trust that.”

Yuuji, with warmth fresh on his nape and the tips of his ears, jumped to his feet and pushed up his hoodie’s sleeves. “Then I guess I’ll just have to show you.”

“And be sure to add extra ginger. I’m surprised that you guys even have this much here,” Yuuji said, holding up a bundle of the root. “I never thought I’d miss a root this bad.”

“Yeah, Nanami began growing them for us. When he and Gojo realized that the land around the building was still fertile, he took it upon himself to try and harvest fresh produce. Apparently, it took rounds of trial and error, but something was able to come out of it.” He nodded to the mass in Yuuji’s hand as he continued to knead the meatballs.

“That’s for sure. I commend your ability for being able to keep it going even when he’s away.”

Fushiguro shook his head, shaking the remnants of ground chicken from his hands and back into the bowl. “Gojo takes care of them.”

“Does he?” Yuuji looked back to the ginger cradled in his palm, “Now that’s surprising… Speaking of which–” Yuuji returned the root to its little designated bowl on the counter and shifted his gaze back on his peer. “Where are the other two?”

“I have an idea,” Fushiguro murmured under his breath as he moved the completed meatballs to the pot of broth. Before Yuuji asked him to elaborate, he received his answer when the two aforementioned entered the designated dining space together.

Not necessarily together but too closely consecutive to have not been assumed together. Especially with how quick Gojo was to return to Yuuji’s mentor’s side, arms slipping around Nanami’s bicep and almost jostling a bowl from his hands. They didn't even acknowledge him or Fushiguro. They were trapped in their own little space and time.

From the short display alone, one would have thought that they’ve been apart for years. To which, based on Yuuji’s guess from how long he had been on the road with Nanami, they were.

Yuuji could – and would – never blame Nanami for seeking out companionship. It was another means of survival. He had seen the effects of loneliness in his mother. In himself, at times. Regardless of those who surrounded you, it could never fill the emptiness of someone truly special.

And Yuuji did think he was special to Nanami, especially after all they’ve been through, but he could sense it was different .

They saw each other as something akin to the family they lost, while with Gojo – based on the passing glances and fleeting giggles and touches and smiles – it was something similar to how his mother and father would act around each other. All they were missing were the occasional bouquets of flowers they randomly gave to one another.

“Not again.” A heavy sigh from beside Yuuji broke him from his reverie as he was met with a look from Fushiguro’s that could have only been described as exasperated. “He always gets like this when Nanami comes to visit. It’s good that he’s kept busy but only at the cost of unwanted entertainment.” He swirled the meatballs around in the boiling soup.

“Always? So they usually act this close?” Yuuji inquired, interested to know a bit more about his travel partner and this new development that he’s neither heard of nor seen before.

He was glad the boy continued to humor him with a response, “I don’t know about ‘close,’ I like to think that Nanami has a high tolerance threshold.” His eyes deterred to the food, poking at one of the bobbing balls to most likely check its readiness. “Do these look fine?”

Yuuji peered over into the pot and nodded, “Yeah, just a bit longer and they'll be ready. But –” Yuuji began again, perhaps a bit too thrilled to return to their prior conversation and get in on the gossip. Which was telling of how starved he was for something that wasn’t diseased -related. “– does that mean they’ve known each other for a while?”

“I’m not sure but probably. All I know is that they’ve been like this for as long as I’ve known either of them. Gojo is naturally insufferable, but he’s even more so when Nanami is around. At least they just keep it to their little bubble, but seeing them makes me feel a bit bad.” Yuuji turned his attention back onto the pair. Gojo was speaking with enthusiasm while Nanami remained stone-faced when gathering silverware for the table.

He looked back at Fushiguro with a raised brow, “Because… Nanami doesn’t return Gojo’s affection?”

“No,” he cut the heat and grabbed two dishtowels before lifting the steaming pot from the stovetop. “Because Nanami needs to put up with it.” Yuuji could sense there was no spite in his tone, it just sounded matter-of-factly.

Before he could follow up with another question, Fushiguro had already moved to the table with the food set in the middle of it. “Dinner’s ready.” He called out, bursting the pairing’s aforementioned bubble and looking at them as they silently stared back. A second passed, then two, before Nanami seemed to have caught on.

“Ah, thank you, Megumi,” Nanami said as he guided – dragged – Gojo to a pair of empty seats.

They really didn't know we were here. Yuuji thought, part amazed and part confused, as he soon joined the other three at the table.

Two weeks passed and the proximity between Gojo and Nanami had not let up. Rather, it seemed they only spent more time together. Yuuji couldn’t quite wrap his head around what it was they did with all that time or what their conversations could have entailed. But if they were able to be around each other that often, there must’ve been some sort of common ground.

“I just don’t get it!” Yuuji sprawled on one of the yellowed, ripped chairs that decorated the building’s rooftop.

“It’s best you stop thinking.” Fushiguro sat to his right with another book unfamiliar to Yuuji. He kept him company throughout the duration of their stay, whether out of his own volition or as another nudge from the adults, Yuuji was none the wiser. But, again, he was deeply appreciative.

“But I want to know!” Yuuji kicked his feet and emitted a bellowing whine, before falling limp again in his seat. “Do you know what they do all day?”

“No.” Fushiguro turned a page. “I have an idea but I rather not think about it more than that.” Yuuji waved off his vague answer.

“They’ve gotta have something in common. But when I think about how they both are, it just doesn’t make sense! I mean – Nanami is so serious and Gojo is so –” Yuuji rotated his wrist as a replacement for a description he couldn’t pinpoint. “I’ve tried listening in to their conversations but there’s nothing to really make out. It seems like a bunch of small talk with how limited the topics are, but it can’t be just nothing , right?!”

“I want to know why you’re so hung up about this.”

Yuuji pursed his lips. He was starved for content and naturally curious to boot. He’s been traveling with Nanami for a long while and hadn’t heard of Gojo until actually meeting him. It seemed odd. There were gaps in the timeline. “Well – you’ve known about them longer than I have, haven’t you ever been curious?”

“No. What adults do with their own time is none of my business.”

“But –”

“ Yuuji! ” Yuuji jolted and looked around to find the source of the call. “Yuuji, Yuuji, Yuuji!” The voice chirped up again. His eyes finally landed on Gojo, actively and avidly repeating his name as he waved from the doorway to the rooftop. “Can you help me with something?”

He waved back in confirmation, “Yeah, I’ll be right there!” He stood up and gave a small nod to Fushiguro, “I’ll be right back.” He received an acknowledging hum in return from the latter who not once looked up from the page he had been reading for the past 10 minutes. 

Yuuji jogged up to the taller man, giving a short salute. “Ready to serve!”

Gojo mirrored the pose with a mock salutation of his own. “Glad to hear it! I need you to carry some boxes into storage for me. I would ask Kento but he’s still asleep.” Yuuji furrowed his brows, more confused than concerned. Nanami never slept in past 10 AM, which was a generous estimate. It’s a regular occurrence that led Yuuji to conclude that the older’s mind wouldn’t allow his body to rest.

“He’s alright,” Gojo must’ve mistaken Yuuji’s expression for worry and attempted to dismiss it. “I just finally tired him out.” He jabbed a thumb at himself and stood upright, grin wide as day. “But, as a result, he also ran me ragged.” Yuuji didn’t know what to make of seeing a grown man shift from such a proud display to a pout as he massaged his lower back. So he ignored it.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been bent that way.” He then tagged on. The last statement was barely a murmur under Gojo’s breath, perhaps meant more as a statement for himself than anyone else. Yuuji would have almost missed it if not for their proximity. Any other time, he might have disregarded it as well, but as he began to piece the puzzle together from a half-month worth of thorough thinking, Fushiguro’s ambiguous response from earlier became a bit clearer.

“And that’s how I became the owner and caretaker of this fine establishment,” Gojo concluded in his grand historical recount of the safe house’s existence.

“Wow … I wasn’t expecting that to be how you met Fushiguro. Makes sense why he introduced himself by his last name then, and why he prefers to do the same for others.” Yuuji suspected, mulling over the new information.

He finished hoisting the last of the boxes into their designated storerooms as Gojo just supervised his progress and spoke about various topics that came to mind. Some of which Yuuji spurred on from personal curiosity, most Gojo shared unprovoked.

“Yes. He used to be such a cute, sensitive kid. Now he’s a rebellious and angsty teen,” Gojo sighed, lounging against a few of the stacked crates with his face cradled in his palm, playing up the distress.

“Is he? I haven’t really noticed. I guess he does appear a bit cold at first but he’s been nothing but nice to me since we got here.” Yuuji tapped at his chin as his brows pulled together when he considered his own time spent with the pretty boy with the long lashes.

“Ahh, young love. I remember when Kento and I used to be in that honeymoon stage too. Although I like to think we still are.” Gojo’s musing pulled Yuuji from his reverie. The way the older was able to slide those few words into the conversation was almost too natural. As though they came second nature.

From Gojo’s house history lesson, he knew that they were at least acquaintances prior to humanity’s demise. They established this sanctuary together after all. It was how Nanami knew his way back without a map. It was how Nanami knew there was a place where he could always return.

“Gojo, how did you and Nanami … I mean … like … how did you two –” Yuuji’s tongue tied around itself in an attempt to find the right phrasing that would both be appropriate and straightforward, but not too forward, but forward enough that it clarified everything – but only if Gojo wanted to divulge all of that.

“How did we –? Find each other? Become partners? Fall madly, deeply in love?” Gojo autocompleted Yuuji’s inner dilemma, leaving him to nod silently before he got caught in another mental whirlwind. “Oh, that’s easy. As you might remember from my retelling of these house walls, we’ve known each other since we were still foolish little kids in school. Filled with hopes and dreams and aspirations and motivations,” he fluffed up. “I was his upperclassman, he was my junior. We weren’t as close as we are now – call it a friend-of-a-friend situation. His best friend was dating my best friend and, at the time, we both wanted our respective best friends.”

Gojo’s expression contorted into something Yuuji hadn't yet seen from the other before. Not a hint of his characteristic playfulness or optimism was present in his faraway stare. He couldn’t tell what it was Gojo was thinking or feeling, but the best way he could put it from visuals alone was: Dreamy.

It didn’t last too long as his spirited responses soon returned. “Maybe calling it brothers in arms would’ve been better? A relationship out of sad solidarity? Nah, that doesn’t sound right. But that was the past,” he physically waved off. “After our grade school days, we went our separate ways. I didn’t hear from him again and there wasn't a reason for me not to do the same.”

Yuuji frowned, opening his mouth about to ask how they then reconnected when Gojo had beaten him to the punch. “We met again when the world began to fall apart. It was a coincidence, perhaps fate playing its cruel yet mystical tricks. We were both running from our problems as the epidemic attempted to trip us every step of the way. Neither of us knew about this place until everything went to crap, yet somehow, our split roads led us to the same destination.”

Yuuji closed his mouth and pursed his lips. He allowed silence to overcome them for a second or so before he offered his tentative reply, “And the rest is history?”

“And the rest is history,” Gojo confirmed with a firm nod.

Yuuji was unconvinced that was all there was to it. It made sense – coming together to find comfort in familiarity when the world around them was chaotic and crumbling, he got it – but it felt as though something was missing. “But how did you both know you would be able to reconnect like that? You said your relationship didn’t have the best track record before – well – all this,” he placed emphasis on vague hand-waving.

“It wasn’t like we were ever at odds.” Gojo clarified. “We were just awkward. Or Kento was awkward. Extremely awkward. Not that I could blame him. I was a looker when younger but now I’m a straight-up catch .” None of those words meant anything to Yuuji.

“I guess that makes sense,” he accepted, albeit not yet able to make complete sense of the growth of their relationship and the most recent development of their dynamic.

“It’s also easier when there’s a lot to catch up on, especially when you have the rest of the time in the world to do so.” Gojo took on that dreamy look again. His eyes deviated elsewhere and stared at what seemed like nothing. “The good, the bad, the ugly. We laid it all out for each other. Everything we missed out on, everything we were doing before this all started, even our ambitions towards the unknown future now that we were trapped with nowhere else to go.”

Yuuji didn’t know how to respond to that. Didn’t know if he should. There wasn’t room for interjection, so he took up space on another pile of boxes and listened. “It was a lot to be living in the present while thinking about the future when not many could afford that luxury anymore. And there’s still never certain of a future for the rest of us. But so long as there was another day to consider, we believed we could hold on until tomorrow.” There Gojo went again, lowering the volume of his voice, an unexpected habit that paired with his uncharacteristic countenance.

“‘Until tomorrow’? What do you mean by that? Why only until then?”

Gojo lulled his head to the side to face Yuuji’s direction and smiled. It was small enough to pinch up the ends of his lips and chub the apples of his cheeks, but not reach his eyes. “In this life, we can only be blessed to have a tomorrow. To live for that one extra day. Think of it as something like a prayer, an unspoken hope – that we will see each other again.” He spoke with his usual optimism incorporated, the type that made Yuuji almost forget the world around them was in a steady state of decay. “After all, what is survival without hope?”

Yuuji nodded, his eyes turning to the cement floor beneath his feet. A prayer, huh. He wondered if his mother had the same outlook.

He kicked around the dirt that was knocked from the gaps in his soles, processing the information while containing his awe at some rather deep undertones of Gojo’s explanation. “Wow … that’s pretty deep.”

“I know, right!” Gojo exclaimed, overjoyed and pleased with the compliment.

“It was Kento who came up with it,” Gojo admitted. “Like all of us, he had seen his own fair share of deaths and experienced his own fair share of losses. There was a particular one that nearly broke him beyond repair.” Yuuji’s eyes immediately searched for Gojo’s but they went unmet. He caught the inside of his cheek between his teeth, unsure how to infer what the older was implying. He couldn't tell what he was saying, thinking, or feeling. Not when Gojo’s posture didn't change, not when his expressions only shifted in subtle moves. But the way it was said didn't sound sad, it sounded remorseful – reminiscent.

“Luckily, it didn’t. It took time, but he was able to come back … to me.” Yuuji had heard enough of Gojo’s non-whispers to know he wasn’t intended to hear that last part. But it wasn’t a secret either, nor did the latter attempt to treat it as such. If not for the stagnant, dry air in the room and the subtle movement of Gojo’s mouth, Yuuji could have passed it off as the wind. And if not for its seeming importance, he would have.

Gojo continued. “Since then, he began punctuating his goodbyes with that phrase. I always thought it was because he feared losing another person. That it’s more of a comfort to himself than anyone else. But, it’s so contagious and rolls off the tongue so nicely, that I stole the habit for myself.”

Yuuji nodded again. It seemed that was all he could do. He was again tongue-locked. He was sure Gojo wasn’t looking for an answer, however, and would give him a pass for his lack of one.

What he did value, though, was the then-new knowledge of Nanami’s vulnerable moments. That even he, the stoic, strong, resilient, reliable figure that Yuuji had grown to admire and strove to become, had his moments of weakness as well. In addition, there was comfort in knowing that there was someone equally reliable, resilient, and strong to offer him support during those moments.

“You know, if you want, you're always welcome to stay with us,” Gojo offered.

They stayed their welcome a little over the intended month. Yuuji had almost believed that there was a possibility of them staying for longer, perhaps permanently. He was getting comfy in their new lifestyle and surroundings when Nanami notified him of departing within a week’s time.

Nanami never explicitly stated that they would leave together, nor did he ask if Yuuji wanted to continue traveling with him. He gave him a date and a time and left the rest for interpretation.

Yuuji had packed the last of their boxes and bags into the vehicle. Closing up the trunk, he considered the proposition for a moment. His eyes drifted towards Fushiguro who stood at the threshold of the entryway where they first met, before shaking his head. “Thanks but I think I'd better travel with Nanami. I wouldn't want him to get lonely.”

Gojo looked as though he were about to say something, opening his mouth but then closing it soon thereafter. A grin decorated his features as a laugh bellowed from his chest. “I’m sure he’ll appreciate it. Take care of him for me, make sure he stays out of trouble.”

“I believe you're the only trouble I’ll ever come across, Gojo,” Nanami chimed in. He was walking from the entrance with a hand tucked in his pocket and a jacket hanging from his forearm. “If I can tolerate you, I’m sure I will be fine.”

“Yeah yeah, just don’t die.” Gojo snapped back in a light-hearted manner, pointing an accusatory finger at the other.

Nanami opened the driver’s door and slid into the seat, “I can’t make that promise.”

“Well try for me.”

Nanami leaned out halfway through the opened car window, right hand outstretched towards Gojo, who naturally met it with steps forward. He rested his cheek in his palm, allowing the blonde to stroke a thumb under his eye and nudge up the shades nestled high on the bridge of his nose. “Keep yourself out of trouble.”

Gojo placed his hand over the one cradling his face and squeezed it. “I can’t make that promise,” He parroted, evoking a snort from Nanami.

“Well try for me.”

“We’ll see.” Nanami pulled his hand back, and for a second, Yuuji thought he saw Gojo try to chase after it. But as Nanami sat upright in the driver’s seat, Gojo stood lax with his right hand in his pocket and the left raised for a nonchalant parting. For a second, Yuuji could have sworn he saw the light catch on Gojo’s finger. But the glint was gone and dust picked up around the car as it rumbled to life before he had time to discern it.

“Until tomorrow,” Gojo began.

“Until tomorrow.” Nanami completed. They bid their final farewells and peeled off down the broken road. Yuuji looked back and continued to stare at the dwindling, boarded-up building till it was out of sight. He didn’t know if there would actually be a tomorrow – no one did – but perhaps that added value to today.

That and he got Fushiguro’s number. All he needed was to still find somewhere with working electricity.