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Yuuji and Megumi almost never fight.
The last major one they had happened before they were even a thing.
Megumi likes to think that he only remembers an argument from four years ago in virtue of it being rare, but in all honesty, he knows that Yuuji can probably tell him on a normal Sunday what he had for dinner once when he was in sixth grade as a side note to an elaborate re-telling of his bustling childhood and, without fail, remember it for the rest of his life. Kugisaki likely won’t see anything weird if he confesses that though. She never misses the opportunity to call out whenever Megumi’s acting in what she lovingly calls is, “Down bad behavior, Megumi! Every day I look at you two and thank whatever higher being is out there for giving me patience longer than my hair.”
But in the rare occasion that he and Yuuji do end up arguing, it always leaves a bad taste in Megumi’s mouth. And contrary to what other’s might think based on his usual nonchalance in most things, it’s Megumi who first seeks Yuuji out, not the other way around. Or rather, he always beats Yuuji to it, unable to even survive a three-hour long lecture without wanting to just cut class and talk things out with the other boy instead.
So when Yuuji’s excited announcement that morning of assisting a three-day long football camp for his coach turns into their first full-blown shouting match in months, Megumi merely acts on default.
It only takes him a while for his emotions to cool down before he’s already out and looking for Yuuji. When he doesn’t see him running laps on his usual route, he makes his way to the students’ common area where he spots a mop of fading pink-dyed hair alternating between facing his laptop and Kugisaki every minute or so.
Megumi’s not one to easily get nervous, but he finds himself hesitating before walking the rest of the way to where the two were seated. Yes, they always make it a point to make up about their petty arguments, but he’s gone too long without having this kind of fight with Yuuji. The kind that makes him want to punch himself for being so stupid, hating how his tendency of speaking and doing what’s on his mind can only make things worse when it comes off as unapologetic, which unfortunately, can also bite him back in the ass in dire situations like this.
Almost four years into their relationship and the mere sight of Yuuji’s back does things to his insides. And a few hours fresh from their fight, he doesn’t know if he wants to will his legs faster towards him or just back to their room altogether.
What if he ignores me?
Megumi immediately shoots the thought down. He no longer has time to overthink this to the ground. That’s already what he’s been doing the past few hours. He pushes himself to walk the remaining steps, stopping just close enough to give Yuuji space should he be the one needing the emergency run.
“Yuuji,” he rasps out. The other boy immediately straightens from his slouch at the sound of his voice. “Can we talk somewhere private?” Megumi was never one to beat around the bush.
He notices Kugisaki beside him heave a sigh of relief. “Please,” Megumi adds before forgetting himself, eyes never leaving Yuuji who’s trying his best to look engaged in his work.
Still staring at an open document, his lips slightly quiver. “Not now. I’m busy.”
“When did you arrive here?”
“After lunch.”
“Two hours a long time to write ‘The’ on docs.”
Yuuji tries not to flinch, angling his laptop away from Megumi. “Nu-uh. I’ve finished an essay before you came. Right, Kugisaki?” He nudges her with an arm.
Kugisaki immediately drops her act of pretending to type away at her keyboard to reposition her whole body and face Megumi. “I ended up submitting my quiz on google forms with your name on it because Yuuji talked nonstop about you that I think my brain broke,” Kugisaki brings her hands together, a bright smile plastered on her face. “Your name feels meaningless in my head now,” she bats her eyelashes.
Yuuji gasps. “What happened to our best friend secrecy pact?”
Kugisaki ignores him. “Please take Yuuji away,” she begs Megumi instead, wide-eyed. “If you still have an ounce of love left for me, you’d do it even if he denies wanting to talk to you.” Yuuji conveniently looks at anywhere but at Megumi. “Because believe me, he’s dying to,” Kugisaki continues.
And before either of them can reply, she’s already closing Yuuji’s laptop. “Now, for the sake of my sanity get out! I need to talk to Maki-san or I’m going to punch someone,” she pushes them both towards the door. “Preferably Yuuji,” she adds, giving him the side eye.
With a final hushed whisper of ‘traitor’ from Yuuji and a classic childish tongue out response from Kugisaki, Megumi finally finds himself in a secluded street with the other boy. They are still within campus, but the atmosphere feels tense, a stark contrast to the gentle way the winter air greets them.
Megumi inhales deeply, steeling himself. “Can we please talk about it?” he softly asks, breaking the silence.
Yuuji lightly kicks dirt on the ground, hands on his pocket. “Okay.”
Megumi sighs. At least Yuuji’s still willing to talk to him.
Used to his boyfriend’s nonstop tirade of stories even when they’re alone, his quiet demeanor unnerves Megumi now. “But first,” he starts slowly. “I’m sorry for walking out on you. I should’ve heard you out first.”
Yuuji’s shoulders slump. “It’s not your fault…” he whispers, “…actually, it’s mine. “
Megumi startles, already shaking his head. Yuuji always has the tendency to shoulder the blame even if it’s not his to bear.
“I should have asked what you’d feel if I were gone for days. I’m sorry,” Yuuji continues, voice breaking. “I’ll take back the form, Coach was the one who asked me to come any—”
“No.” Megumi cuts in. “Please don’t,” he softens. “Just…please. I don’t mind you helping on the camp. I’m sorry if I ever made you think that.” He looks on the ground. “It was my fault. I was just overthinking things as usual. And if my emotions didn’t get the best of me, I would’ve been able to say that I was just upset because I was missing you.”
Yuuji’s breath hitches.
He gently reaches for Yuuji’s hand, slowly intertwining his pinky with his. “I’ve been missing you like crazy these past few days. I’ve probably never hated my classes as much as I did… Then you told me you’ll be gone next month,” he whispers, holding Yuuji’s hands in his and touching them gently. He wants to keep them warm. Wants to keep Yuuji warm. “I thought that maybe you finally had enough of me,” he confesses, closing the distance and leaning his forehead on Yuuji’s shoulders.
Yuuji tenses under him. “I would never,” he replies, voice sounding like he’s in a daze. He cradles Megumi’s cheek, tilting his head up to look him in the eye. “Hey, I would never get sick of you.”
Megumi swallows the burning sensation in his throat. He loops his arms around Yuuji’s shoulder instead, pulling him closer and burying his face on the soft fabric of Yuuji’s scarf.
Megumi knows how he must look now: a desperate lovesick fool on the verge of breaking down in a nondescript street, holding onto his boyfriend like he wants to fistfight with physics itself for making it impossible to be any closer. He knows, but he doesn’t particularly care. Contrary to what almost everybody would think, he isn’t always guarded. Megumi is not all coldness and his usual air of indifference. He also feels the urge to melt in winter, his whole body seeking and craving more than it’s used to—just a boy in love through and through.
But others would never know huh, he thinks. They’re not Itadori Yuuji after all.
“I didn’t know it would come out that way. I’m so so sorry, Gumi,” Yuuji rushes out.
Megumi looks up and Yuuji continues, still as earnest. “I thought your professor pushed through with the deadline of your paper by that time. And I know you’ve been stressed about your pieces for weeks now…I thought you were the one getting tired of me talking your ear off when you should probably be focusing,” tears were threatening to spill from Yuuji’s eyes.
His heart clenches at the sight. “Please don’t cry,” Megumi whispers, wiping a stray tear. “Where did you ever get the idea that I hate listening to you talk when I write?”
“I don’t know, I talk a lot…” he murmurs, sniffling.
“I don’t care. You’re my muse, stupid.”
Yuuji stares at him for a few seconds before a chuckle escapes him. And because he’s Yuuji who turns simple happiness to full-blown delight, his chuckle evolves into a heartfelt laugh.
Megumi smiles at the sight. When he chose to be a writing major after poring over nonfiction for most of his teenage life, he never would’ve thought he could come up with any material for something resembling a love story. On the walk home from his first date with Yuuji, he gave a pathetic excuse at the last minute about forgetting to buy something from the convenience store. Until now, he hasn’t admitted that he just needed alone time back then to let off some energy coursing through his veins. He’s almost positive that walking together all the way back to the dormitories with Yuuji would’ve given Megumi an early heart attack.
And if Yuuji has ever read a poem at the back of a fading receipt in Megumi’s neat handwriting tucked carefully on his wallet, he’s never commented on it.
“Even if you write a murder mystery?” Yuuji smiles at him cheekily, eyes shining.
Megumi hums, considering him seriously. “I only need to think of being separated from you and I turn murderous.”
If possible, Yuuji laughs even harder. “Well...then I guess I’m glad to be helpful to your writing process?”
He gives him a quick peck on the corner of his lips as a reply, making Yuuji giggle. Once he recovers, Yuuji slowly caresses Megumi’s hair and murmurs, “If you ever get the silly idea that I’m sick of you, I’d like you to know that I’d probably take my heart out if it means keeping you safe.”
Megumi touches his forehead with Yuuji’s, closing his eyes. They stand there together just breathing, letting the words settle everywhere within and around them. Megumi is reminded how overflowing affection has the power to turn even the very air you breathe into something special.
“I am in love with you, Fushiguro Megumi,” he continues, as if he hasn’t obliterated Megumi just yet. “I’m insensitive at times and should probably listen to Kugisaki more than I do,” he chuckles lightly, “but… I…fuck—I can’t even put into words how much you make me feel,” Yuuji breathes out. “How do I put this…you know how I get when I play?”
Megumi briefly nods. He gets the urge to kiss Yuuji stupid every time he sees him like that. It doesn’t even matter if it’s during a Mortal Kombat game at their dorm or his football matches: Yuuji pours all of himself in everything.
“Yeah, that, but a hundred times more,” Yuuji murmurs contemplatively. “It’s crazy because just thinking of your face makes me weak on the knees but you also make me want to run a hundred laps around campus screaming my head off without ever stopping. You’re so pretty it hurts,” he says, almost whining.
Megumi’s cheeks burn.
“Just seeing you makes me want to do something, you know?”
He lifts his head up to look Yuuji in the eye. “Please don’t do that.” Yuuji without a doubt, would probably do that.
He only flashes him a bright grin.
Megumi feels the corner of his mouth lift despite himself. He drapes himself on his boyfriend again, sinking into him. “I’d probably be running beside you, though,” he confesses, gently nuzzling his cheeks on his neck.
“I know,” Yuuji says dreamily, sighing into his hair. “I know.”
It takes a while for them to untangle themselves. Even more for them to walk back to their shared dorm, stealing kisses on quiet corners like they’re not college students with impending deadlines by 11:59 pm.
Megumi and Yuuji rarely ever fight. But when they do, Megumi remembers undeniable facts about him that his thirteen-year-old self sitting on top of teenage angst and beaten-up classmates would have a hard time believing:
First, his penchant of closing himself off from others would only last the summer before college.
Second, a boy will sing his heart out at their freshman’s dorm orientation and he would go to sleep that night thinking of ballads, tan lines, vulnerability, and broad shoulders. He would fall asleep thinking of stupid boyish grins given freely by a boy too good to be true.
Third, he will slowly come to understand why his father was the way he was: brazen, rash, burnt-out cinders all perfectly content to be consumed by fire, of letting it swallow him whole because he would rather burn out than forget what it once felt like to burn—of eventually becoming the fire himself.
Megumi slowly understands only because he has discovered that it is very much possible to melt, even in winter. A warmth he never knew was possible has spread from his chest to his limbs to his toes, until there’s no unlearning, until it thaws all the coldness out of him. He now understands because this warmth will make him so careful: bringing tears to his eyes from slight misunderstandings, turning every smile directed at him into something to gently hold in his palms, something to protect with his whole being.
Megumi and Yuuji rarely ever fight, but when they do, Megumi clings tighter and kisses a little bit slower. Like life has never made him question the merit of feeling, of baring oneself open and letting someone else see, of being too soft at the seams.
When it comes to Yuuji, Megumi is just a boy who feels, someone simply savoring the warmth of being loved and loving.