Work Text:
It was late April when Megumi got tapped on the shoulder by the girl behind him in class.
He’d been staring out the window as Gojo-sensei rambled on about some stupid metaphor used in one of their assigned texts, and, genuinely, Megumi would rather shove his hand into a meat grinder than listen to his idiot of a teacher-slash-adoptive-father for another second, but alas--class wouldn’t be over for another forty minutes.
Instead of boring himself to death, however, he was now faced with something all the more daunting:
The girl (Emiko? Etsuko?) had shoved a folded piece of paper into his hand, and he carefully shifted in his seat so he could give her a questioning look. She just shrugged, her gaze flitting to a certain pink haired character sitting a few rows behind them.
Ah. Yuuji Itadori , sunshine incarnate, Gojo’s favorite student, and, as it happened, Megumi’s best friend.
The boy was ducked into himself, his gaze sternly held on the wood of his desk, not moving a muscle, as if he wished to be invisible. Amusement and dread bubbled up in Megumi’s stomach. Normally, Yuuji texted him if he was bored in class, sending him stupid memes and asking Megumi for pictures of his dogs. Why he was now passing messages by paper was beyond Megumi’s rational train of thought. Oh well.
With a sigh, he unfolded the paper underneath the desk, careful not to tick their teacher off. The paper had been ripped from one of Yuuji’s notebook, lined paper adorned with the scrambled handwriting: u r gorges .
Afterwards, Megumi would rush to his dorm room to scream in his pillow. But, at that moment, his only reaction was a stunned silence, his blood rushing through his ears as he crumpled the paper between his hands.
Now, there were many remarks to be made about this whole situation: first of all, perhaps Megumi should force his friend to take a dyslexia test, because this was quite frankly ridiculous. To misspell gorgeous like this at the grand age of 17 was a federal offense in his eyes. Secondly, and, really, most importantly -- what the hell had driven Yuuji to write this to him?
Megumi didn’t really care about his looks. Sure, he’d gone through his angsty pre-pubescent period of lanky limbs that were too clumsy for his body. Some light acne that lasted about a year, a voice that shot out to a note that was just a little too high to be normal.
But now, settled into his longer length and actually being able to tame the mess on his head that earned him the nickname of a sea urchin in middle school, he assumed he looked fairly… normal. Not anything special, just another average face wandering the grounds of Shibuya Boarding school. He wasn’t Todo, with his big muscles and loud behavior, or Sukuna, Yuuji’s brother, who could be found wandering around with a new girl on his arm on the daily.
He was just Fushiguro Megumi, and he hated nor loved his looks. He just was .
Yuuji calling him gorgeous -- even in his own, himbo-stupid way -- seemed so far beyond the boundaries of normality that it sped Megumi’s heart into overdrive.
If anything, Yuuji was the dazzling one in their friend group. Megumi was not so absorbed by his homosexuality that he denied Nobara’s pretty looks. She had silky hair and legs to die for, and her make-up only enhanced her delicate features. Objectively, she was very attractive.
Both Yuuta and Toge had their fair share of admirers (not that they had eyes for anyone but each other), and even his cousin Maki had some good looks (not that Megumi would ever tell her that). But Yuuji, God. Yuuji .
“The boy is like a labrador on crack”, Nobara had once commented. Sweet, stupid, and so adorable you wanted nothing more than to cuddle up to him. And Megumi wanted, Megumi wanted him so badly it made his bones ache sometimes. He’d never told anyone else about his embarrassing crush on his friend, but he wondered if he even had the ability to hide his heart-eyes whenever Yuuji was near.
The strawberry pink hair fitted his bubbly behavior, his stupid smile making his brown warm eyes crinkle whenever Todo cracked another one of his stupid jokes. He was more sturdy and built than Megumi, with slightly broad shoulders and lean arm muscles. Amen to the days that brought sunshine, because Yuuji would wear his wife beaters and show off his tanned shoulders. Megumi was sure he could drool at those arms if he let himself.
“Megumi, ya wanna solve this problem for me?”
Gojo was staring at him expectantly, a dirty smirk on his face as if he’d caught the boy wandering off in thought and now had him caught, right in the act.
“Sorry, sensei ,” Megumi gritted through his teeth. “What was the question?” He was sure he resembled somewhat of a fire hydrant by the way he was flushing -- and the attention from the class was not what had caused it. It was as if he could feel Yuuji’s gaze burning in the back of his head, and it took everything in him to not glance over his shoulder.
As Gojo rambled on about the importance of paying attention in class, Megumi sagged in his chair. From behind him, he heard Yuuji heave a heavy sigh.
This was going to be a long day.
***
And long it was.
Megumi managed to avoid the boy altogether, going as far as to join Gojo and Geto during their lunch break, the latter shooting him a concerned look.
Despite Megumi’s rocky relationship with his adoptive father, his partner was somewhat more tolerable. Geto doubled in administration and student counseling for the school, which was how he’d met Gojo. He’d been a big help throughout Megumi’s middle school years, when he fought a lot and skipped classes, until the first year of high school. That was when Gojo and he decided to register him for the school they both worked at, to “keep an eye on him”.
Despite his initial disdain, Megumi liked Shibuya Boarding school. He got his own room and shared a kitchen and bathrooms with the rest of his floor, which consisted of the other third year students. Yes, he had to deal with some 17-year-old classmate burning down the kitchen every once in a while, but it’s not like Gojo’s cooking skills had been any better. That, and he had Yuuji as his neighboring roommate.
Something that was now a thing to worry about more than celebrate.
He’d seen Yuuji getting up from his seat and moving towards him after class, and had hurriedly packed his bag to walk-jog out of the classroom. Megumi praised himself for being non-confrontational, but this unfortunately went hand in hand with his avoidance of any possibly emotional topics. He was too scared to face Yuuji right now -- though he wasn’t sure why.
Somewhere in the back of his mind, his betraying heart was screaming at him to go kiss that boy stupid. Rationally, though, this was likely one of Yuuji and Kugisaki’s pranks. The two of them were absolute menaces when it came to pranking people, and it wouldn’t be the first time they pissed Megumi off by doing something stupid.
“You’re awfully quiet today,” Gojo chirped from the other side of the lunch table.
“I’m always quiet,” Megumi muttered into his coffee cup.
Next to him, Geto let out a huff of laughter.
“Any reason why you’re sitting with us, then?” Gojo swiftly leaned back in his chair. “Not that I mind, though, gotta love me some father-son bonding time, but I can’t imagine sitting with your old man is a great way to pass the time.”
“Don’t tease him, Satoru.” Geto, who was sitting beside Megumi, slid his bento box over, which contained some slices of watermelon. Megumi just shook his head. “You’re not hungry?”
Sighing, Megumi looked away, staring pointedly out the window. “Think I might be coming down with a fever. Have a bit of a headache, that’s why I didn’t want to bother my friends. Not that you are helping,” he pointedly flitted his gaze back to his dad, who was now stealing Geto’s slices of melon.
Geto was still eyeing him carefully, ignoring his husband’s antics. “If you really don’t feel well, you should go back to your dorm and just rest. You barely have taken any sick days, I can inform your teachers.”
There it was; the easy way out. Megumi nodded curtly. “Yes, please. That would be nice.”
No more warm brown eyes looking at him with concern, and no more sweaty palms and rising panic. The taste of heavy anxiety on his tongue lessened slightly. He knew this was only a momentary solution. He had to face Yuuji sometime soon, but not today.
And so he packed up his stuff, let Gojo ruffle his hair before leaving the teacher’s lounge and making his trip back to the dorms to hopefully nap his way through the day. The pondering didn’t lessen any more, though. Instead, now without the distraction of his idiot dad and his husband there was now only more worry.
Yuuji and he had been friends since they met right here, on campus, on moving in day their second year. Now, almost two years later, he couldn’t really remember what it was like not to have the boy neighboring his room.
Initially, they hadn’t been that close. The remnants of Megumi’s stoic middle-school persona lingered as Yuuji reached out to him, dragging him out of his room for late-night ramen runs or to visit his dad’s on-campus apartment to see his dogs. He remembers the time Yuuji found out about Ginger and Pixie -- the way Yuuji’s eyes had widened, the two of them sitting on the steps of the dorm building’s stairwell, eating their hot ramen in the cold winter air.
“You have two dogs ? Where?”
“They don’t live here. With my dad.”
“Oh.” Yuuji’s shoulders had slumped. “Then I guess I can’t see them anytime soon, huh?”
“They live with my dad.” Megumi had pointed at the teacher’s building. “Gojo isn’t home right now, but we can go tomorrow.”
“ Gojo-sensei is your dad ?!”
He’d rambled on about how much he wanted to become a vet, how he loved every animal but never got one because of his dad’s allergies, and how he used to feed the strays that lived in his neighborhood pickles (because he loved them so much, so cats must like pickles too, right?) before his dad had told him that cats couldn’t digest those properly. He’d cried for days because he felt so bad.
“Why Ginger and Pixie?” He’d asked Megumi once he’d stopped rambling. He was wearing that blindingly ugly yellow sweater of his. Megumi wanted to hug him so hard he might crush his ribs. Even back then, there was no way he wouldn’t have fallen for the boy. His stupid heart had always been ahead of his stubborn demeanor.
“I like the Pixies.” Megumi had shrugged. “And I like ginger in my food.”
The next day, Yuuji had been at his door after finishing his homework, holding a bag of something in his right hand. “Can we go see Ginger and Pixie now?”
Of course Megumi couldn’t say no. It was only after an extensive conversation between Gojo and Yuuji -- which consisted of the two enthusiastically chatting as Megumi brooded in silence and made them tea -- and Yuuji meeting his dogs that he mentioned the bag.
“Oh!” The boy ruffled through the plastic bag hurriedly, before pulling out a package of food. “I thought we could make sushi! And I brought gari, because you like ginger, right?”
Mentally, Megumi envisioned himself banging his head against the wall until all the stupid mushy feelings and thoughts had left his body.
In actuality, he had simply reached out, taken the package from Yuuji, and smiled. “Okay.”
“Okay!” Yuuji had grinned right back.
So, see? The problem wasn’t Yuuji. It had never been Yuuji.
There was just this nagging thought in Megumi’s head -- that one day, Yuuji would find his counterpart that could level with his everlasting enthusiasm, someone with a bright personality like him. Nobody as bland like Megumi, who was sometimes so silent he might as well become one with his shadow. Most conversations between them two consisted of Yuuji rambling on and on and Megumi just making short remarks or humming in agreement.
If Kugisaki hadn’t been a committed lesbian, Megumi was sure she would already be dating the boy. She was cheerful and energetic, pretty and smart. Megumi wasn’t dumb -- but he was too dull for someone as bright as Itadori Yuuji. That, and the boy did not shut up about Jennifer Lawrence. If there was any proof of him being into men, Megumi had yet to find it.
So the note that had landed in his hands today was more shocking than it had been welcome. Putting aside the intentions behind it -- a prank? Or an actual confession, albeit done very stupidly -- Megumi was plain scared . Scared of his feelings being reciprocated. Pining in secrecy was safe , and Megumi longed to feel safe.
This was conflicting. Because Yuuji made him feel safe, made him feel at home. But his friendship to him was sacred, and was something he cherished. He didn’t doubt his own feelings for his friend, but he did doubt Yuuji. There was not much to love, in his own opinion, and so why did Yuuji tell him this? Was it worth risking their friendship over?
Insistent knocking on his dorm room door made him roll over on his bed, faceplanting into his pillow. Classes were over by now, and he should’ve expected a visit from Yuuji, but ignorance was bliss, so he stayed quiet. His door was locked, and he didn’t answer, but another set of knocks had him groaning out, “go away.”
“Megumi Fushiguro, so help me God, I will kick down this flimsy excuse for a door that this school has provided you with and drag you down to the ninth circle of Hell with me for having to do so.” Ah. Kugisaki.
“I’m sick.” Megumi forced out a weak cough. Sue him, acting wasn’t his forté.
“And I’m sick of having to sit around and watch you and Itadori being gay over each other. Now open this damn door or-”
Megumi was by the door faster than the speed of light, swinging the door open to drag his friend inside. “Quiet down, he might-”
“What?” Kugisaki had changed out of her uniform into her pajamas, which was usual for her after school. Her foot, clad in a fluffy pink slipper, tapped an impatient rhythm on the floor. “Or Itadori might hear ABOUT YOU HAVING A BIG FAT GAY CRUSH ON HIM?”
“Kugisaki, I know how to hide a body.”
“I’m sure you do. Also,” she chirped as she sauntered over to the bed and settled herself between his pillows, “your boy toy is not in his room, so, no sweat, fruitcake. I think he's at Todo's.”
Megumi stood and stared at her, frowning in disdain. “What are you doing here?”
“I am staging an intervention.” Her carefully manicured nail pointed at him as she gave him the stink eye. “You need to sort your shit out before you force that poor boy into a state of depression.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Sure, okay,” Kugisaki huffed. “So why did Yuuji walk around on the verge of tears all day, not saying a word, even when I told him I’d go see that damn J-Law movie with him this weekend? You know how much I despise romcoms.”
Dragging his hand down his face, Megumi groaned in exasperation. “I don’t know , okay?” He made his way down the room, settling next to Kugisaki on the mattress. “I’m… just…”
“Well, you must’ve done something, because when Maki asked him where you were during lunch I’m pretty sure he was crying into his miso soup.”
A pang of guilt shot through Megumi’s heart. “This wasn’t one of your pranks?”
“Sweet thing, my pranks make people laugh,” Kugisaki retorted as she leaned over to crack open the window next to his bed. Her lighter clicked as she lit one of her cigarettes. “Itadori looked about ready to throw himself off the nearest skyscraper.”
A bit of silence hung in the room as Kugisaki huffed out clouds of smoke. Megumi watched from the corner of his eye, pondering on his thoughts, not even scolding Kugisaki for her smoking like he usually did. If Yuuji was actually looking as sad as Kugisaki had just described… What if there had been some truth behind it? Hope lingered, like a fickle flame trying to light a fire.
Sticking his hand into his sweatpant’s pocket, he pulled out the crumpled paper, before silently holding it out to Kugisaki. There was a beat of silence as the girl quirked an eyebrow, took the paper and unfolded it, another beat, and then promptly started laughing hysterically.
It took a few minutes for her to calm down, and when she finally stopped snorting Megumi gave her an exasperated look. “It’s not funny . Why would he give me this?”
After containing herself, Nobara sniffed, wiping away the tears from her eyes after laughing so hard. “Puh-lease--I know you and Gojo aren’t related by blood, but both of you have the emotional intelligence of a grape.”
“I do not--”
“Yes, you do.” Flicking her cigarette out of the window, Nobara leaned back onto the bed, spreading her limbs like a cat settling into the sheets. “That boy is head over heels for you.”
Megumi buried his face in his hands. Nobara was humming as she typed away at her phone, her friend having a complete meltdown mere feet away. A beat of silence passed between the two as he gathered his thoughts, but before he could question Nobara further, she held up her phone screen, showing a conversation between Yuuji and her. “See?”
idiot #1
Nobara have you seen Gumi
You
w/ him rn
idiot #1
O
idiot #1
Why was he not in clas
You
the love flu
idiot #1
?
You
both of u r idiots
You
thats all
idiot #1
What did i do
You
talk it out babes
idiot #1
He will not respont to my texts :(
You
dw ill tell him to text u back
idiot #1
Ok
idiot #1
(＾ω＾）Thank you nobara
Again, Megumi groaned.
“Now, you go help that poor boy out of his misery,” Nobara scolded, pushing herself off the bed. “If you avoid him any longer, he might become just as depressed as your ass, and I cannot handle two emo’s in the friend group.”
Instead of responding, Megumi just face planted back into his pillow. The door clicked and closed as his friend left the room, leaving him alone to wallow in his confusing feelings again. Still, the hope had grown--stupid, idiotic, pathetic, he’d let his hope bloom once again, and everyone knew that only led to disappointment.
His phone pinged, and he knew it was Yuuji, texting him for the trillionth time today. I’m pretty sure he was crying into his miso soup , was what Nobara had told him, and so, Megumi let out a ragged breath, said a quick prayer to a God he didn’t believe in, and dared himself to open the chat. He’d missed multiple texts throughout the day.
yuuji
Hey are you having lunch with us
yuuji
? ヽ(•‿•)ノ
yuuji
Gumi i habve curry rice for tonite if you want to have dinner together ( ˘▽˘)っ♨
yuuji
But if you are not hungry that is ok i can give it to Todo
yuuji
Did you read my note
yuuji
i m sorry if it was weird
yuuji
It was a compliment
yuuji
Maki helped me spel compliment
A choked up laugh escaped Megumi’s throat. When had he started crying? His face was wet, his hands gripping onto his phone tightly. God, he was an idiot, wasn’t he? Even if Yuuji hadn’t meant it that way, there was no possibility of the strawberry-blond boy ever breaking up their friendship. He inwardly scolded himself for even thinking so lowly of his best friend. Really, he should have heightened his expectations, but his anxiety was a feisty tiger clawing at his most assured thoughts.
You
I’d like some curry rice.
You
If that is still possible?
The reply was almost instantaneous.
yuuji
on my way ε=ε=┏( ・＿・)┛
***
Yuuji’s face was as red as his hoodie as he stumbled into the room mere minutes later, almost tripping over the green carpet Megumi had bought a few months before. He’d changed clothes, and was now wearing shorts and his X-Men sweater. In his hands was a bag containing what Megumi assumed was dinner for tonight.
“Gumi! How are you feeling?” Yuuji rambled on as he started hastily unpacking the bag, a whirlwind disturbing the anxious silence that had been hanging in Megumi’s room. “Nobara said you were sick but she didn’t tell me what it was so I brought some painkillers, but I also have cough drops and I can get you a warm towel if it’s, like, aching muscles or something, but if it’s the flu you might like a cold towel better--”
“I’m not sick.” Megumi quipped, silencing the other boy momentarily.
His eyes were big as he tilted his head in question.
“Just--” Megumi heaved a sigh, motioning for him to sit next to him on the mattress. “Sit down.” He paused, rethinking his request. “Please?”
Yuuji moved in silence, taking the two bowls of food with him, handing Megumi one of his own. His expression was once again like an open book, a mix of slight confusion and nerves. A beat of silence passed once he was settled down, his legs crossed as he stared down at his food with a slight frown.
“So. Um.” Yuuji chewed on his bottom lip, as if he was sorting out the words in his head instead of blurting things out like he usually did. It was a rare sight to see him as unsure of himself as he looked right now. “That paper that was passed on? I didn’t mean it like that , haha, like, in a weird way, just, you know how people sometimes look really good, like when Nobara does her make-up all pretty for a date with Maki, or that time Yuuta wore that suit for the winter formal. Ya’know?”
His brown eyes were like those of a dear in the headlights, peering up at Megumi with an uncertain gleam.
Megumi envisioned himself standing at the edge of a cliff. Maybe it was the literature-loving student in him, but it was the quickest metaphor his brain could produce right now. Behind him was his friendship with Yuuji, and the safety net of knowing he would never lose him. He couldn’t lose him, not like he’d lost his mom, his dad, his sister --
And then, right in front of him, was that big leap into the great unknown. Maybe there was water to catch him, or spikes that would impale his body and leave a big, gaping hole of Yuuji Itadori . He did not know. He hated the unknown, but his brain was too worn out by the events of today. Maybe not even just today. This had been building up for a long time, ever since he’d first talked to Yuuji, maybe even before that. There was no stopping the words tumbling out of his words--
“I think you’re beautiful, too.”
The flush on Yuuji’s cheeks was instantaneous.
“I--” Megumi tried to find the right words. “I think, I think you’re funny and you’re handsome and so happy and bright and I don’t think I’m even worthy of being your friend sometimes, but you never seem to mind, and Nobara told me you like me back but I’m so scared to mess things up, to mess us up, I want you to be my best friend forever. I need you, but I’m scared you don’t need me .”
The silence was deafening. Yuuji blinked, once, twice, Megumi contemplated drowning himself in his curry, and then he smiled , the tips of his ears pink as he started giggling. “Oh man, oh, Gumi--”
“Hey, I--” Megumi started out defensively, his walls rising upon seeing his friend laughing at his words. Why was he laughing? Was it in a ridiculing way?
“No, no,” Yuuji snorted as he grabbed onto Megumi’s wrist, stopping him from lashing out. “I’m not laughing at you, just-- God, you don’t even know how much I like you, do you?”
Megumi’s mouth clamped shut.
“I’m just,” Yuuji smiled, “well, I was so worried about you hating me after what I wrote to you this morning that I didn’t even think of why you could be avoiding me. You had me scared to death, you know that?”
Megumi sputtered. “Well, what was I supposed to think? For all I knew, you’re straight and have the hots for girls like Jennifer Lawrence. It’s all you talk about.”
“Okay, but she really is very pretty.” Yuuji frowned, but his tone was playful. “Not as pretty as you, though. You ought to know that--have you never looked in a mirror?”
When did Yuuji become such a sweet talker? “Stop that,” Megumi was equally as red now, shifting his gaze to his lap and prodding at his curry rice.
“I’m sorry. I, hah, have no filter when I’m nervous.” Yuuji’s hand was still on his, and now moved to entwine their fingers. “But you like me too? That’s great! Now we can go on double dates with Maki and Nobara!”
Megumi, who had been resiliently stuffing his face with food to avoid looking at Yuuji, promptly choked around his bite of rice. “Whah?”
“Ah, right. Wait. Todo told me I should ask you for a first date first.” Pensively, Yuuji chewed on his lip again, leaving a slight dent in the plush pink of his skin. “We could go to that pancake-shop and then to the arcade. Ooh, or, there is a new horror movie coming out next week, and I don’t like horror, but you do, right? So we can do that too. Or --”
He paused when he caught Megumi’s wide-eyed stare. He gently squeezed his hand, concerned. “What?”
“Just…” Megumi’s brain was oddly blank at this point. “Date? We’re dating now?”
Yuuji’s smile was coy. “I mean, that’s what people do when they like each other. Don’t they? There was this American sitcom that did that--”
“Arcade.”
“Huh?”
“I like the arcade. And we can get ramen.” Yuuji preferred ramen over pancakes, Megumi knew.
“Really?” Yuuji’s grin was wide. “Oh, man. This is so great. You like me back and we’re going to go on a date. Does this mean I can kiss you now too?”
Enough . Megumi was sure his entire nervous-system was about to combust. But Yuuji was still giving him puppy eyes, and he had spent countless hours and a multitude of dreams on the idea of kissing Yuuji, and he was just a weak, weak boy, so how could he say no? He couldn’t say yes, though, either, because his voice was oddly non-compliant. Instead, he just nodded meekly.
Another squeeze of the hand, as if Yuuji couldn’t contain his glee at the whole situation, and he asked again, “can I kiss you, like, now?” God, his blush. Megumi felt like dying.
Instead of giving Yuuji an answer, he just leaned forward, and then their faces were nearing, his nose brushing Yuuji’s, and he could feel the boy’s breath spilling on his lips, could smell the coca cola on his breath and the dizzying smell of his shampoo and deodorant. Before his doubts could get the best of him, he moved forward and planted his lips straight onto Yuuji’s.
Fireworks and romantic music were a myth, was a vague thought that he managed to muster up through the cloud of more, more, more , because Yuuji’s lips were warm and soft and a little wet and he should find this disgusting, he hated seeing PDA and this was not at all hygienic but even an atomic bomb couldn’t have ripped them apart right now. The other boy let out a sigh against his lips, and their mouths pressed together slowly, innocently, no heavy making out or tongues or spit-swapping, but there was something so healing about kissing Yuuji Itadori. Fushiguro had never felt so fulfilled , like he was whole again.
A hand grasped onto the front of his shirt, and Yuuji let out a pleased hum, pressing the slightest bit closer. Megumi wasn’t sure how much time passed until they finally separated. His rice was cold, but it didn’t matter, because Yuuji was holding his hand, chattering non-stop as he ate.
And if he couldn’t help but lean over to kiss him swiftly every minute or so, well, who outside of this room was ever to know?
***
You
[image462.jpeg]
You
Thank you for the talk today. Yuuji and I are ok.
nobara
WAHT
nobara
FUSHIGURO MEGUMI IS THAT A HICKEY