Chapter Text
one.
Megumi likes Itadori. That much is obvious. He wouldn’t hang out with the boy if he didn’t.
But it’s not until they’re in the dorm kitchen in the middle of the night on a boring, uneventful Tuesday that he realizes he might like Itadori… more than what could be considered a normal amount for friends.
It’s late, and apparently, neither of them could sleep. Megumi had just wanted a quick glass of water when he came across the boy in the kitchen. Now, Itadori is sitting on the edge of the island across from Megumi, legs swinging childishly and eating too much konpeitou than could be considered healthy, shoving the little sugary stars in his mouth by the handful.
And that’s where Megumi’s problem arises. Itadori’s mouth.
A soft pink color, dyed slightly from his sugary treats, and full and plush-looking, perfect for—
Megumi nearly chokes on his water when the idea pops into his head. Suddenly, the kitchen is a few degrees hotter than it was before. He hadn’t had much experience having friends growing up, but he knew that the urge to lean forward and press your best friend’s sugary lips against your own so you know what he tastes like… isn’t normal friend behavior. He certainly doesn’t want to kiss Kugisaki.
Itadori grins at Megumi, cheeks chubby from the konpeitou that's been haphazardly stuffed into his mouth, but then he tilts his head. “What?” He asks, speech slightly muffled by the sweets in his mouth. It’s cute. Itadori is cute.
At times like these, it's easy to forget that Itadori houses one of the most dangerous curses on the face of the Earth within his body. That he has a death sentence hanging over his head.
“What?” Megumi parrots innocently, feigning ignorance before taking another sip from his water bottle.
Itadori furrows his brow, studying Megumi for a moment, before shrugging and grabbing another handful of konpeitou.
Megumi tries not to let out a sigh of relief. He doesn't exactly want his friend aware of his very unfriendly thoughts. It was probably just a one-off, anyway, just a sleep-addled thought brought forward by the dim kitchen lighting and slight sleep deprivation.
two.
It was definitely not a one-off thought. The opposite is true, actually— it was the start of an avalanche of thoughts, pestering him at all hours of the day.
When they’re eating breakfast, when they’re running laps, when Kugisaki is rattling on and on about her “hopeless gay crush”— Megumi, in retrospect, kind of wishes he knew who she was talking about, but he hadn’t been listening very closely in favor of watching the way Itadori was idly chewing on his straw.
Megumi, to his surprise and slight embarrassment, finds himself wanting to tangle his fingers in Itadori’s thick pink hair, to catch his full lips between his own and kiss him until they're both out of breath and late to class. He's not embarrassed because Itadori is a boy, no, he doesn't really care (he would probably like Itadori no matter his gender, honestly)— he's embarrassed because it's all he can think about. He needs to be paying attention in class, but instead, he's watching Itadori chew the end of his pen or studying the way his lips quirk when Kugisaki passes him notes in the middle of class.
“Fushiguro!” Kugisaki calls, snapping her fingers repeatedly in front of his face and pulling him away from his thoughts. The three of them are on the field, doing yoga— Kugisaki claims yoga is very good for you, and Megumi doesn’t care enough to argue; especially when he gets to see how frustrated Kugisaki is when Itadori does the poses better than her due to his near-superhuman athleticism and flexibility.
He lets out a hum on instinct, before he realizes why Kugisaki is trying to get his attention. He is still in a bukasana, while the other two have moved on to a balasana. Kugisaki seems to be very aware of his… staring problem, if the glint in her eye and her smug smirk says anything.
He rolls his eyes and quickly changes into a balasana, attempting to block out Kugisaki's quiet huff of “useless gays;” conveniently just loud enough for Megumi to hear but not Itadori. He very pointedly ignores her.
three.
“Itadori, you look so pretty! Right, Fushiguro? Tell Itadori he looks pretty.”
Megumi swears Kugisaki does this shit on purpose. She’s looking at him with mischief in her eyes that makes it so obviously clear, but at the same time she has a sort-of implied innocence, and he can’t really get mad at her. Kind of like a cat. Even when you know they did something on purpose (like knock a glass off of the coffee table after you specifically tell them not to), you can’t really prove it because they’re just that good at seeming innocent— even as Kugisaki tortures him with their current situation.
One day, he plans to get her back for all of it.
Today is not that day, unfortunately, because he’s too flustered looking at Itadori’s painted lips and sharpened eyes, praying to any higher power out there that his face doesn't look as hot as it feels.
“It looks nice, Itadori,” Megumi mumbles, taking a sip of his ginger tea and looking back at the large mirror covering half of Kugisaki’s wall, watching the other two through it.
Itadori brightens, his grin impossibly wide. “You too, Fushiguro! You already have really long eyelashes, so the mascara makes your eyes pop even more!”
He says it so casually, so easily. Megumi is envious in a way— everything has felt so complicated lately.
Instead of responding, he watches the careful way Kugisaki applies the cherry red lipstick to Itadori’s lips. She holds him by his chin with one hand, and she’s sitting close enough to Itadori that if she didn’t constantly remind anyone with ears just how gay she was, he might be a little jealous of their proximity.
Itadori rubs his lips together the way Kugisaki instructs him to (and he doesn’t miss the way her smug eyes meet his in the mirror), and Megumi forces his eyes away, picking at some dead skin around his thumbnail.
One day he’ll get Kugisaki back. Today, he’s fruitlessly trying to fight the blood rushing to his cheeks and avoid staring at Itadori for too long.
four.
Itadori busted his lip. They were fighting a low-level curse that they ran into while taking the scenic route back from the convenience store, and by the end, his lip was busted and bleeding.
No big deal, right? Wrong. Very, very wrong.
After Itadori had asked to use some random nearby homeowners bathroom (to which they agreed, for whatever reason. Megumi figured Itadori just had that effect, even with blood dribbling down his chin and a bruise forming on his cheek.) to clean up his lip, he just kept. Licking it.
Every minute or so, Itadori's tongue darts out to soothe the cut across his bottom lip. Megumi can't focus on anything else.
Megumi wants to kiss Itadori, right there, in the middle of the sidewalk where any random passerby could see them. He wants to hold Itadori's soft, tanned cheeks between his hands and kiss him senseless, to tell Itadori exactly how he's been feeling and then kiss him some more.
He doesn’t. He makes it back to his dorm room and just barely stops himself from screaming into his pillow, for fear of Itadori hearing him through the thin walls.
five.
Has Itadori ever kissed anyone before?
The question crosses his mind when he and Itadori— well, mostly Itadori, really, Megumi isn’t paying much attention to the movie anymore— are watching some American movie with that pretty actress that Itadori fawns over.
They’re side by side on the couch of the dorm’s living room, curled under a big fuzzy blanket, the sun having set over an hour ago. Itadori is enraptured with the movie, and Megumi is watching the light of the screen dance over his features out of the corner of his eye.
Itadori has never mentioned any exes, so any relationships must not have been a very big deal. But that doesn’t mean he’s never kissed anyone, right? If they— unbelievably, somehow, miraculously— ended up kissing, would Itadori think Megumi is bad at it? He’s never kissed anyone, so he really has no idea—
Movement on his right startles him out of his thoughts. Itadori has moved, wrapping both of his arms around Megumi’s right arm, and resting his head on his shoulder, his pink hair tickling Megumi’s face as he curls deeper into Megumi's side. When he notices that Megumi has noticed his change of position (of course he noticed, how could he not notice?), he looks up at him innocently.
“This is fine, right Fushi?” Itadori asks, staring up at Megumi through his light eyelashes.
The nickname makes his heart slam a little louder against his ribs— Can Itadori hear it?
Megumi struggles to swallow the nervous lump in his throat, finally managing to breathe out, “Yeah… yeah, this is fine.”
Itadori licks his lips, pulling Megumi’s gaze. His eyes snap back up to Itadori’s eyes just as quickly, but he knows Itadori noticed. Itadori’s own honey-brown eyes are flickering back and forth between Megumi’s lips and eyes rapidly, almost seeming to ask a silent question.
He wants Itadori to voice his question. He wants to be sure, for there to be no room for him to doubt himself. Megumi is generally pretty good at reading people, but not Itadori. Never Itadori.
Itadori is an anomaly, from his unnatural strength to his impossibly strong resolve to his reckless selflessness; his very existence as Sukuna's vessel is basically a one-in-a-trillion chance, the only person alive who can pull off such a feat. If Itadori was anyone else, his body and being would have been taken over, and Gojo would've killed Sukuna that night at the school, taking the poor person stupid enough to eat a fucking cursed finger down with him.
If Itadori was anyone else, Megumi wouldn't have asked Gojo to make sure that Sukuna's vessel wasn't immediately killed.
If Itadori was anyone else, Megumi wouldn't be leaning in to kiss him, heart pumping faster and faster because— is Itadori leaning in too or is that my imagination?
A loud explosion rings out on the television, and they jump apart, Itadori letting out a small screech of surprise.
And that’s it. The moment ends right there.
Itadori lays his head back down on Megumi’s shoulder, and Megumi keeps his attention on the tv, watching but not really watching. He has no idea what's happening in the movie, and, frankly, he couldn’t tell you what the plot is for his life. All he knows is Itadori’s eyes keep flitting up to Megumi, his expression unreadable.
He figures it's for the better. Kissing Itadori is sure to lead to heartbreak.
Itadori is so much more than Sukuna's vessel, but at the end of the day, he is Sukuna's vessel. Once he eats all the fingers, he will be put down like some common fucking mutt, and not even Gojo will be able to stop them. Itadori will die, and this time, he won't be coming back.
(He figures he will feel the same whether or not he kisses Itadori before he— before. But he's scared it will hurt more if he kisses Itadori and then has to lose him. So they don't talk about it. They watch the movie.)