Work Text:
It’s hot.
The air is thick and everything is sticking. The clothes on Megumi’s back, the blades of grass against the nape of his neck – damp and uncomfortable as the sun beats down on them. Absentmindedly, Megumi wonders if it’s cooler in the shadows. He’s about to let them open underneath him until a different kind of shade makes overhead, a gust of air hitting his sweat-soaked face.
Yuuji is fanning him.
“Oi, Fushiguro! Stay with me!” His hand moves up and down with comical urgency, as though the curse that will take Megumi out is heatstroke. Whatever, not that he minds .
Yuuji looks good from every angle, especially this one: Megumi sprawled out on his back and Yuuji hovering above him. The sun freckles on the bridge of his nose, the beads of sweat along his sharp jaw – Megumi looks at him and soaks it all in, wants to remember every detail because he fears the possibility of never seeing it again.
He takes out his phone and opens the camera.
“What are you doing?” Yuuji asks but doesn’t stop moving, biceps flexing with each wave of his arm.
“Taking a picture so I can remember how nice you’re being to me.” Megumi clicks.
Yuuji snorts. “I’m always nice to you!” His arm drops back to his side. The phone screen catches a rush of pink and a honey gaze, up close and personal as Megumi smirks and snaps a few more pictures of blurry laughs and lame attempts to grab the phone from him.
When Yuuji is actually crawling over Megumi, caging him in and capturing all of his warmth, Megumi locks his screen. “I won’t send them to the group chat.” There’s a smile on his lips that threatens to spread into laughter because Yuuji is whining and Megumi thinks it’s cute.
Wow, the heat must really be getting to him.
“Good. I don’t need Kugisaki making memes out of me,” Yuuji grumbles as he collapses on top of Megumi and buries his face into his chest.
Megumi groans.
“Itadori, it’s too hot for this.” God, has Yuuji always been this heavy? He tries to push the boy off like a bench press, but Yuuji is 80 kilograms of pure muscle and Megumi is tired.
“Let me stay here!”
“Get off,” Megumi grunts, trying to wiggle out from underneath him.
Nobara scoffs. “What are you two doing?” she asks with her arms folded, also covered in sweat.
“Fushiguro won’t stay still!”
“Because I don’t want you laying on top of me.”
“But I’m—”
“Flirting,” Nobara interrupts, ultimately unimpressed. “Got it.” When Megumi looks back at her, she has her phone pointing right at them.
“We aren’t flirting,” Megumi denies with a scowl. “What are you doing?” He throws a hand in front of his face to cover it.
Nobara rolls her eyes. “What do you think I’m doing?”
“I hate when you take pictures of us.” Megumi finds the strength to sit up, even though Nobara isn’t listening. Yuuji presses his face against Megumi’s torso and wraps his arms around Megumi’s waist, mumbling incoherently about how Nobara is going to do whatever she wants anyways.
“Well,” the shutter sound goes off, “you two look adorable.”
Nobara doesn’t say much after that, just yells at them to stop being gross and go shower. A few seconds later a ding sounds in his pants, and Megumi shuffles to pull his phone out while Yuuji remains on top of him, half asleep.
Megumi opens up Nobara’s message in the group chat and doesn’t recognize the smile on his own face. Not like he’s focused on that anyways.
No, Megumi is looking at the way Yuuji gazes up at him, chin tucked against Megumi’s stomach, lips pulled into a pout. He swallows down whatever gets caught in his throat, a tightness that threatens to choke him. They look happy here, Megumi thinks, and then glances down at Yuuji when he hears a snore.
“Fine. Five more minutes,” he whispers as he saves the photo and lies back down on the ground.
Quietly, Megumi holds out his phone and snaps another picture of the top of Yuuji’s head. He smiles to himself and sighs before closing his eyes, thinking it might be okay to fall asleep in the sun like this, if only for a bit.
The summer, for the most part, continues on like that.
Days that aren’t dedicated to fighting off curses are spent holding onto their youth. In their limited free time, they go to Tokyo to eat desserts and pretend they’re normal.
And what do normal people do in today’s day and age? They take pictures of their food.
“It’s so cute.” Yuuji looks at the strawberry shortcake in its pink box, a small bear made of frosting lounging on top of it.
Megumi glances at Yuuji’s dessert, his own already half-finished, and nods. “Pretty cute,” he mumbles as he digs his fork back into his Tiramisu. They’ve been sitting at the cafe for an hour, waiting for Nobara and Maki to come back from shopping, but it isn’t like Megumi is in any rush. He would rather be sitting here with Yuuji than holding a bunch of bags.
Besides, this is nice.
“Makes me not want to eat it.”
“Really?”
“Kind of,” Yuuji laments, pulling out his phone. He taps the screen once, twice, and lets out something akin to a pathetic whimper when he realizes: “It’s dead.”
Megumi hums, takes the second to last bite of his dessert, leaving the very last one for Yuuji since he knows the boy will ask to try some, and takes out his own phone. “Someone you need to text?”
“No, the only person I’d text is right here.” Yuuji points his fork at Megumi. “I want to take a picture of the little bear. Show it to Panda.”
Megumi hums and looks down to unlock it. When the screen lights up, Megumi sees the last thing that was open, his camera roll. And when he notices all the little squares, they all have one striking thing in common: pink hair.
What the fuck —
Which is a funny question, really , because who else is taking pictures on Megumi’s phone beside himself? There’s a split second of panic where he brushes his thumb over the glass surface, just to glimpse at the other pictures on there.
Megumi comes to one striking and obvious realization: all the photos on his phone are essentially of Yuuji.
And after another moment, he’s plagued by an annoyingly suffocating question: Why?
“My phone’s dead too,” Megumi says abruptly as he takes it away from Yuuji’s lingering hand and shoves it back inside his jacket pocket. When he looks up, he meets Yuuji’s (understandably) confused gaze.
“The screen just lit up.”
“And told me it was dying.”
“I thought you charged it before we left.”
“Charger is broken.”
“What? Really? Aw man, that one is mine,” Yuuji frowns.
“Yeah, didn’t charge my phone at all,” Megumi lies a little too easily, because this is much easier than admitting to the embarrassing truth: his camera roll makes him look like a goddamn stalker.
He can tell by the crinkle in Yuuji’s brow that he isn’t buying it, so in a desperate attempt to deflect any further questions, Megumi scoops up the last of tiramisu with his spoon and shoves it past Yuuji’s partly open lips. “Delicious, right?”
Any suspicion is immediately squashed with a thoughtful chew of coffee-flavored mousse. “Can I have one more bite?” Yuuji asks as he leans over the table, disappointment flooding his expression when he sees Megumi’s box is empty.
He flicks Yuuji’s forehead, ignoring the vibrating in his pocket that’s probably Nobara trying to find them.
“I’ll buy us another one to eat at home.”
When Yuuji eventually patters back into his own room around 2am, Megumi reorganizes his pillows and tucks himself in, wiggling close to the edge of his wall before pulling his phone out. The existential hum of panic has hardly dissipated. It was a little easier to ignore when Yuuji and Nobara were arguing over the fact that she took a bite of Yuuji’s strawberry dessert before he could snap a photo, but it’s harder when Megumi is alone with the dim brightness of a screen.
The pictures are a mixture of things: Yuuji fast asleep in places he shouldn’t be, eating food that they bought at local street carts from various missions, laughing with Nobara about something, throwing up peace signs with Inumaki, and getting his ass handed to him by Maki. Yuuji is only looking in a quarter of them; most of these are candid moments Megumi wanted to hold onto and keep to himself, like secrets he holds close to his chest.
He scrolls and scrolls but what he doesn’t do is open any of them up and press the
delete button, because these, all of these, are memories and — oh. Megumi comes to a part of the grid where it all makes sense, where it’s clear exactly when the shift occurred. Yuuji is wearing a baseball uniform and catcher’s gear, hanging off of Megumi with a smile brighter than the sun. Gojo had taken this photo and sent it to all of them, and before this, Megumi remembers thinking to himself that he and Yuuji had no pictures together.
Ah, yeah, that’s what it was.
Months ago he’d been lying down the way he is right now, and was looking at the same 6 pictures that they took in the weeks they’d known each other before the King of Curses stood in front of Megumi and thrust his fist through the ribcage of someone who Megumi had considered a friend. Months ago, Megumi laid in this exact spot and stared at 6 pictures that only captured a shade of who Yuuji was and who he wanted to be, only a fraction of the memories that Megumi had with him — and none of those 6 pictures, or the near 100 he has now — will ever be enough to alleviate the ache in Megumi’s chest at the idea that if he ever loses Yuuji again, his smile on a glass screen will be all he has left.
“Damn it.” Megumi shuts his phone off and places it on the windowsill.
There it is, that feeling in his sternum that Megumi knows all too well, the one that strikes the second he’s ever apart from Yuuji: missing him.
“What other movies is this actor in?” Yuuji asks as they sit on the floor of Megumi’s room, laptop screen situated on the flimsy pillow in front of them.
Megumi doesn’t respond, only offers a half-hearted shrug as he opens his mouth when Yuuji feeds him another chip. It’s getting to the good part of the movie where the protagonist will realize how to solve the cliche predicament he’s in, so Megumi doesn’t notice that Yuuji grabs his phone that’s on the floor until the boy is unlocking it.
“What’s his name?”
“I think it’s—” Megumi’s eyes widen. “Hey, what are you doing?” He leans forward to snatch his phone out of Yuuji’s hand. “You have a phone.”
Yuuji stares, looking absolutely affronted. Megumi doesn’t really understand why, considering it’s his phone to begin with and Yuuji has his own. “Why have you been acting so weird? What are you hiding, Fushiguro?”
“I’m not acting weird.” This is a lie. “You can look it up on your own phone. It’s weird that you used mine.”
At this, Yuuji huffs. “You’re the one who is always talking about not keeping secrets from one another, and you’ve been fidgety around your phone lately. What’s the problem?” he asks. “Are you on a secret mission or something from Gojo-sensei?” is the next question, and then: “Are you getting nudes?”
Megumi chokes on air. “Wh— No , ” he scoffs and feels the entirety of his face warm up. “I’m not on a mission and I’m not receiving scandalous pictures, why would you even—”
“Then what’re you hiding?” Yuuji continues to press, except this time he sounds genuinely frustrated. “Clearly, it’s something. You’ve never acted this way before—” and now Yuuji is shamelessly invading Megumi’s personal space, face inches away and an arm reaching around to grab the phone from Megumi’s hand, “—just tell me!”
“No! Cut it out,” Megumi scowls and moves to push Yuuji away, but the other sorcerer is too fast and too strong and too close for Megumi to think properly. Honestly, this is Megumi’s fault. He clearly overthought this and should have just allowed Yuuji to use his phone for the internet and not assumed that he would have opened his camera roll, and now—
Now Yuuji is caging him against the floor (again), and their voices are booming over the movie playing on Megumi’s laptop. Yuuji pins down Megumi’s wrist with one hand as his other tries to snatch the phone Megumi is desperately clinging onto.
“Itadori, stop—” Megumi struggles, and in an unhinged panic, throws his phone across the room so hard that when it hits the wall, they hear it crack.
Both of them stare at the device now some feet away, honing in on the shattered screen from Megumi’s carelessness. Slowly, Yuuji looks down at Megumi, jaw hanging slightly ajar. “Did you just…”
A frustrated breath escapes Megumi’s lips and he pinches the bridge of his nose in disbelief. “Yeah, I did.”
“And I’m the one acting weird,” Yuuji mocks as he leans down and presses his forehead on the floor beside Megumi’s face. “Fushiguro, talk to me,” his voice sounds small, something Megumi hates, and when cobalt eyes flick over, he sees golden orbs staring right back at him. “Please?”
Megumi feels his chest tighten, or maybe it’s all of Yuuji’s weight crushing him into the carpet, but between Yuuji’s soft glance and Megumi’s terribly inability to play it cool — well, he never stood a damn chance.
“I was scared you’d see something you weren’t supposed to.”
“Nudes?” Yuuji asks again.
“No,” Megumi sneers. “What is with you? Do you have nudes on your phone? Who is sending them to you?” He finds himself asking, clearly from a place of unwarranted jealousy if the laughter from Yuuji is an indication of anything, and he tries to shove Yuuji off of him to no avail. Instead, the boy pins him harder to the ground, and the warm breath from his laughter tickles Megumi’s face.
“Whatever it is you’re hiding,” Yuuji starts, infuriatingly sincere, “it probably isn’t even that bad. I won’t judge you.”
Megumi is embarrassed. “It’s kind of weird.”
“Weird?” Yuuji repeats with a grin. “I’m a pretty weird guy, Fushiguro. I ate a finger,” he reminds him, as if Megumi could ever forget, and picks himself up just enough to knock his forehead against his. “Try me.”
There’s nothing, at least not really, that Yuuji couldn’t convince Megumi of. That fact alone is probably more humiliating than any amount of photos. Megumi would do anything for Yuuji if he wanted, if he simply asked, and now Megumi finds himself confessing to something more than he had actually intended or even realized, because in the space between them, keeping this truth from Yuuji makes Megumi miss him even more.
“My phone is full of pictures of you,” Megumi admits slowly, squeezing his eyes shut as the words leave his lips. “And it’s not because I’m some creep, okay? It’s just because I don’t want to forget this, any of this. I want to remember all of it, I want proof of every single moment — that we were here, together.” Finally, he chokes out the last word, “Alive.”
He doesn’t hear anything after that, not an unsteady exhale or the beginnings of teasing. It’s completely silent, the truth hanging between them like something to be marveled at, three words unspoken. They don’t leave Megumi’s mouth, not yet, but they rest on his tongue and linger in his lungs, until a quiet inhale causes him to open his eyes and find Yuuji staring right at him.
“Yeah,” Yuuji says, a single word that sounds a lot like everything Megumi was trying to say but didn’t; a single word that sounds a lot like Yuuji understands. “Can I show you something?” he asks, slipping his free hand into his back pocket and pulling out his cellphone with its own broken screen, a consequence of the time Yuuji got too excited about petting Megumi’s shikigami.
Yuuji lets go of Megumi’s wrist and lies down next to him on the floor, legs still tangled in between his, face mere inches away as he pulls something up before he turns it towards him, showing him a dimly lit, cracked screen, full of photos of all their friends, Megumi notices, but overwhelmingly — him.
Lips often pulled into a straight line, chin resting in the palm of his hand, a shy smile hidden behind the collar of his uniform; Megumi sees himself in photos he had no idea were taken, and Yuuji holds the phone in his without a single ounce of embarrassment or shame. “I bet I have more pictures of you than you have of me,” Yuuji says softly as he begins to scroll through all these memories that Megumi didn’t even know he was capturing.
“I’m almost certain you don’t,” Megumi mumbles as he lifts his hand and lowers Yuuji’s phone that blocks the space between them, taking in the cheesy smile on his face, illuminated by the backlight of a movie they’ve completely forgotten about.
“Not like we could check. I’m pretty sure you just broke your phone,” Yuuji teases even if Megumi doesn’t really hear him, doesn’t really care, because he knows he doesn’t need a picture to remember this moment.
Megumi leans forward to close the distance between them, capturing his lips in a kiss that’ll stay in his memory forever.
“Guess not.”