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Megumi is lying flat on his back, limbs splayed out and skin full of splinters from the ancient wooden floor of his room. It’s uncomfortable, and yet he hasn’t moved since he has taken his spot.
He probably should, because if he doesn’t and Gojo walks in, this will be the source of teasing for days to come. (That might not sound like long, but trust Megumi on it, Gojo can make time seem infinite.)
But he’s not in the mood to get up and do anything else. He won’t be before he hears familiar footsteps and the laugh he seeks out when he’s feeling down echoing in the hallway.
Yuuji has been gone for about two hours now. And maybe it’s not just a coincidence that Megumi has been in his current position for just as long.
He’s not so pathetic as to wallow whenever Yuuji is out of his sight of course—although Nobara would probably argue with that—but he’ll admit that, right now, he is.
It’s not so much because Yuuji is absent from the dorms and the school is abnormally quiet, no, it’s because of who he is hanging out with.
Just at the thought of it, Megumi lets out a long sigh.
Today, Yuuji is going to the cinema with Ozawa. Ozawa as in, the girl who has a crush on Yuuji and who wanted to confess to him. Watching a movie is pretty romantic, right? That would be a good moment to tell someone you have feelings for them. Megumi hasn’t talked to Yuuji about it, so he can’t know for sure, but there is a chance that he reciprocates his middle school classmate’s feelings.
Megumi sighs even louder, the breath cut off by a half sob.
He rubs at his eyes, trying to make the sudden wetness of his face go back from where it came from. He isn’t going to cry. He isn’t. This isn’t a big deal.
Yuuji is his best friend, so if he gets a girlfriend, Megumi should be happy for him, right? Ozawa will be good for Yuuji. She’s pretty, she’s nice enough and she isn’t involved in the sorcerer world, an environment where you can die at any time, out of the blue. She’s a girl.
She’s everything Megumi isn’t.
He bites his lip, canines sinking into the soft flesh. Maybe he’s using pain as a distraction from his feelings again, but no one is here to berate him about his terrible coping skills.
He needs to think about something else.
The first thing that comes to his mind is the word garden. Nice one, brain. What is he supposed to expand on? The benefits of gardening?
Megumi rolls his eyes and tries to concentrate.
Garden, garden… Flowers! There are a ton of flowers in the school’s garden. Megumi thinks they’re pretty, splotches of color in a world tainted with gray.
When Megumi was a kid, Gojo taught him a lot about them and their meaning. It was the white-haired man’s post-breakup obsession. Megumi pretended to be annoyed, scoffing at how sappy it was, but he always listened intently. Why, he still has no idea now, years later. Hoping that one day the knowledge would be useful, perhaps.
Megumi has always liked gladioli. Their diversity amazes him, and their shape is intriguing. They symbolize strength of character, sincerity and infatuation. According to the legend, the spikiness of the flower is meant to pierce the heart of its recipient with love.
They remind him of Yuuji.
Oh.
He was doing so well at distracting himself, too. Why did he have to think that? Megumi isn’t that obsessed with his best friend. Definitely not.
Probably not.
Okay, maybe he kind of is.
Megumi lifts his arm to lay it on top of his eyes, hiding them from the rest of the world, and groans. This is torture.
The clock keeps ticking—or well, it would if it existed, this is a metaphorical clock—and Yuuji doesn’t come back. Megumi stays on the floor.
He’s starting to think it’s gonna be his new habitat. Or he’ll merge with the wood. Whichever happens first.
That hangout is awfully long, isn’t it? Yuuji must have said yes, and now he’s making out with Ozawa on her couch and he’s moving to her house and never coming back.
Megumi feels a pinch at his heart.
He knows he’s most likely dramatizing, but that first part could be true. Ozawa and Yuuji could be dating. It’s far from impossible.
His jaw clenches, teeth gritting so hard against each other that he thinks they might get crushed into dust.
Megumi has no idea why the thought of Yuuji and Ozawa together makes him so mad.
… Okay, that was a lie. He does in fact know. The reason isn’t exactly something he likes to think about though.
Nobody would, in his situation. Nobody has.
He wiggles to grab his phone from his pants’ back pocket. He presses the button on its side and the screen lights up. The time announces seven thirty-six in the evening. There’s a notification saying that his favorite streamer is live on Twitch, but that’s it.
Not a word from Yuuji. Megumi expected it, but still. Somehow, his jaw tightens even more, tears forming in his eyes.
He gulps and sits up, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside of him. Anger, sadness, love and anxiety interlock and twirl until they merge into a big, scary monster, the one everyone scoffs at.
Jealousy.
It’s a foreign feeling. Megumi had never been a jealous person before. He would look at what others had and he didn’t, and where he could have resented them for it, he’d shrug and think Good for them. Envying wouldn’t change the situation, and that certitude was enough for his mind to let it go.
But then, he met Yuuji.
Kind, beautiful, determined, friendly Yuuji. When Megumi looked at him for the first time, he had a sudden urge to keep the other boy for himself, to put him in a bottle and hide the object in his jacket.
After that, he got to know Yuuji better, and the urge only became stronger with each passing day.
Megumi isn’t a jealous person, but he thinks he should be the one dating Yuuji. Megumi might not deserve his best friend, but he watched him die and come back to life, they’ve saved each other countless times, they’ve talked about everything under the sun, and they’ve developed the ability to know exactly what the other is thinking without a word.
In Megumi’s opinion, those are valid reasons for the way his stomach twists at the thought of Yuuji with anyone other than him.
Most of all, though, Megumi is jealous because he loves Yuuji.
More than he has ever loved anything else. More than he thought was possible. More than a crush, so much more.
His breath stops when Yuuji enters the room. Every single time, without fail, his heartbeat is fast enough that he can feel the rush of blood in his ears. His neck gets hot, and butterflies flutter pleasantly in his stomach, soft and reassuring. He feels instantly more relaxed, shoulders dropping, relieved of a pressure he didn’t know existed.
It’s cliché, but it’s true.
Megumi doubts that Ozawa likes Yuuji that much.
He doubts that anyone likes someone that much.
He buries his face in his hands and groans. He needs to stop being so mushy, or he won’t be able to disagree with Nobara the next time she calls him a lovesick idiot.
With a sigh, he lifts up his head and pushes himself off the ground. Sulking around isn’t going to help any. As he stands up, he comes back to himself and the soreness of his body hits him. Ouch. He should have guessed that lying in such an uncomfortable position for hours on end would have consequences. But in his defense, his brain wasn’t exactly working properly earlier.
When Megumi crouches down to look for his slippers under his bed, his knees pop. He ignores the noise, it’s a problem for future Megumi. Current Megumi grabs the house shoes and slips them on.
He plugs his earphones in and walks to his door, intent on finding something to eat. Usually, Yuuji cooks for everyone—he insists that he likes doing it, and his food is delicious, so none of them protest—but he went out early today, so he probably didn’t prepare anything. Megumi will have to content himself with a packet of biscuits, or a bowl of cereal if he’s lucky.
The hallway is cold as always. Megumi watches his breath hanging in the air for a second before fading into nothingness and he stuffs his hands in his pockets.
He wishes he was holding Yuuji’s hand instead. Yuuji is always warm.
Megumi furrows his brows and shakes his head, wishing the thought away. He was just starting to forget, and now here he is again.
As he curses his mind for setting him up for failure, he reaches the kitchen and notices a piece of paper on the table. Uh, that’s odd. They usually put the shopping list on the fridge, after a few too many incidents of the wind blowing it away.
He leans over the table and takes it in his hand, careful not to rip it. It could be something important.
He recognises Yuuji’s handwriting before he reads the words that lie in purple ink over the paper. Megumi smiles fondly at the color. Yuuji has many endearing quirks, but his complete refusal to write anything with black ink is one of Megumi’s favorites.
He looks back to the paper.
Megumi,
I don’t think I’ll make it in time to eat dinner at the time we usually do, and I know you prefer to eat early, so I made you some oyakodon!!! It’s in the fridge :D
Yuuji <3
PS: Unrelated but I found a new game we should try when you have some free time!!!!
PPS: Also I hid your dessert behind the melons, I didn’t want Gojo-sensei to find it!!
Megumi rolls his eyes good-naturedly at the last bit. The situation is plausible, but a hungry Gojo won’t be stopped by a few fruits. Trust Megumi on it, he’s gone to further lengths to hide his sweets, but to no avail.
He makes a mental note to thank Yuuji later, when they play that game he mentioned, because Yuuji’s oyakodon is thousand times better than the cheap cereals they buy, poor mimics of popular brands.
Megumi folds the note neatly and tucks it in his pocket. He doesn’t want to lose it, or forget it where someone could find it. It’s stupid, but he’d rather no one sees Yuuji’s note but him. There isn’t anything incriminating or overly personal written, but it was directed to Megumi. Not to anyone else. His heart feels warm at the thought.
With long strides, he gets to the fridge quickly. He might have looked a little desperate to anyone who had seen it, but he’s starving. Exploring your feelings is hunger-provoking, it’s not his fault.
As he holds the fridge’s door open, he scans over everything in it, from cherry drinks to camembert, until he sees a bowl covered with a stretchable silicone lid (no single-use plastic in the dorms, not after Nobara’s presentation on turtles). The corners of his mouth twitch, and he snatches the food, as if an invisible person hiding in the shadows could steal it.
He warms it up, and once he sits down to eat and removes the lid, he’s greeted with the sight of a heart made of soy sauce on top of the meal. A fuzzy feeling makes its way all over Megumi’s body, from his toes to the tip of his ears.
Realistically, he’s well aware that the shaky symbol doesn’t mean anything. But just today, he allows himself to think that maybe it does. He silently prays to whoever is up there that Megumi is the only one who Yuuji made this tiny gift to. He tells himself that it’s an okay thing to hope for, even if it’s partly the monster’s wish.
He’s almost done with his meal when he heard the entry door’s closing click. He raises an eyebrow, his attention peaking. Nobara is in the second year’s dorms, and she said she probably wouldn’t come back until tomorrow, but she could have changed her mind or forgotten something.
That train of thought vanishes when Megumi hears the characteristic pattern of Yuuji’s shoes tapping against the wood.
Just at the sound, Megumi feels his blood rushing to his face, and he prays that it’s not visible. He can’t say it’s the heat, he can feel the freezing air even through his clothes. At a loss for other solutions, he shoves a huge spoonful of rice in his mouth and mentally crosses his fingers.
“Megumiii!” Yuuji’s voice calls out from the hallway, as sing-songy and upbeat as always.
The footsteps get closer and closer, until Yuuji’s face peeks through the doorway, a large grin on his face.
“Are you enjoying the food? I made sure to add more chicken, since it’s your favorite,” he says as he slumps down on the chair facing Megumi.
Yuuji brings a hand to his chin, tilting his head. He doesn’t wait for a response and speaks again. “I’m surprised you’re only eating now. Did you go out?”
Megumi swallows the rest of his food before answering. “No. I got lost in thought, and forgot about everything else.”
His friend hums in comprehension. “Makes sense. I’m glad you ended up remembering,” he declares.
“I am, too,” Megumi agrees. “Thanks for cooking for me.”
Yuuji beams, flashing his teeth and his eyes squint at the motion. He’s beautiful. Megumi’s heart is pounding in his chest. “You’re welcome!”
It’s silent from a moment, until Megumi gets up to wash his bowl, and his chair screeches as it drags along the floor.
While he’s waiting for the sink to fill up, he glances back at Yuuji, who’s staring into the void with a dazed, happy look on his face. Megumi bites his lip. He doesn’t want to ask, but he wants an answer to his internal turmoil.
“How did your hangout go?” he inquires, stumbling on the words.
And then he looks away, because he’s not sure if he can stand seeing Yuuji’s face while he replies. Though feeling Yuuji’s stare burning his back is probably not much better.
He rubs intently at the bowl, eyes fixed on it.
“It was great! We had a lot of fun. At least, I did, I think Ozawa did, too. We went to a coffee shop, and they had muffins—they were delicious, you would have loved them,” Yuuji rambles excitedly. “After that, we went to the cinema. We watched a film I had already seen, but it’s one of my favorites, so I didn’t mind too much. I was happy that Ozawa liked it too!”
Megumi’s throat feels dry, a far cry from the state of his eyes. “Oh,” he says flatly. He clears his throat as he reaches for the towel. If things go to shit, he can use it as a tissue. Hesitantly, he opens his mouth again. “Did— did something else happen?”
He doesn’t need to see Yuuji to know what face he’s making right now, his confusion clear in his voice. “Huh? What do you mean?”
“Well, I don’t know. You were out on a date, weren’t you? Did you—”
Megumi’s sentence is cut off by Yuuji’s laugh. “What? We weren’t on a date, Megumi.” He huffs. “We’re really not like that, we’re just old friends. ”
Suddenly, Megumi’s shoulders feel a bit lighter, and he can breathe again. He hangs back the towel and turns to Yuuji, his hands pushing against the counter.
“Besides,” Yuuji says, “I like someone else.”
Megumi’s heart stops. The relief washes away, its void immediately filled by a new appearance of the ugly jealousy he has tried to chase.
“Oh,” he replies, voice hoarse and tears pricking at his eyes.
Yuuji furrows his brows, and it’s the last thing Megumi sees before his sight becomes blurry and he turns around to hide the wetness of his face.
“Megumi?” Yuuji asks, the call soft and laced unhidden with concern. “Are you okay?” He pauses. “Sorry. That was a stupid question, you’re obviously not. What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” The answer comes out harsher than expected, but it’s short enough that he doesn’t start sobbing while he speaks it.
There’s a sound of wood creaking, and Megumi can only guess that it’s Yuuji standing up. Megumi breathes in shakily and wipes his eyes with his arm before making a beeline to the door. He doesn’t want to talk right now. If he tries, the monster that’s hiding inside of him might force its way out of his mouth and devour everything in its way.
He walks faster and faster, and he doesn’t understand what Yuuji is saying, the thoughts in his head much too loud for him to hear anything else. Before he knows it, he’s running, and he doesn’t know if Yuuji is following him, and he doesn’t care.
When he finally gets inside of his room, he closes the door hastily and fumbles with the key trying to lock it. He slides down the wood until he’s sitting on the floor, back to the door and face on his knees.
His breathing is so fast that he feels lightheaded, and his heart aches, aches, and aches.
Megumi knows he needs to calm down before he passes out from the lack of oxygen. There’s a breathing pattern to relieve anxiety or something, right? He racks his brain for the numbers, eyes closed and head tilting back.
Inhale for four seconds, keep it in for seven, exhale for eight.
He counts carefully, repeating the sequence multiple times, until he stops messing up the numbers and the blood in his ears quiets down. He breathes out, and it’s still shaky, but he doesn’t feel like his lungs are on fire anymore.
“Fuck,” Megumi mumbles.
Yuuji must think that he’s insane. Or weird. Or both. Megumi buries his face in his forearms, stacked on top of his knees.
He’s startled out of his worries by the sound of his name.
“Megumi?”
It’s muffled by the door, but Megumi can still sense the hesitance and the agitation in the voice.
He grunts in response, not sure if he can manage talking without breaking down again.
There’s a soft thump on the other side before Yuuji talks again, quieter than usual.
“Did I do something?”
“No,” Megumi chokes out. “Well, yes, but it’s not your fault.” A barely suppressed sob. “I’m just— I’m just so stupid.”
“No you’re not,” Yuuji comforts, and the love in these simple words makes a shiver run down Megumi’s spine. He wishes it was a different kind of love.
“I am,” Megumi repeats, and Yuuji doesn’t interrupt. “I let myself hope for something I know wouldn’t happen, and when that hope was taken away, I reacted like a child. I shouldn’t have believed I had a chance.”
There’s a silence, and Yuuji sighs. But he doesn’t sound exasperated or annoyed with Megumi, just confused, and maybe a bit scared. “Megumi,” he says, “I don’t know what that hope was. I have no idea what you’re talking about, but I can promise you that— that no matter what, I’ll do everything in my power to make your dreams become reality.”
Tears run down Megumi’s face, and he doesn’t try to stop them. How could he, when someone had just directed such words to him? When they had no idea of the feelings Megumi held towards them?
“That’s the problem, Yuuji.” Megumi’s heart clenches, and he feels like crying in agony. “I don’t want you to force yourself to realize that hope for me. I want you to be happy, because you deserve so much better.”
“I don’t understand. I’m happy because I’m with you, though?”
Megumi is going to drown in his own tears, his body covered in salt. Yuuji is so sincere, so earnest that it hurts. Megumi owes him honesty too, doesn’t he? It’s the bare minimum. But it’s hard. Hard to bare himself from his usual protective shell, to lay all of his feelings, his soul for Yuuji to see. Megumi knows that Yuuji won’t judge, but what if he secretly starts hating Megumi? He wouldn’t survive that, he knows it.
He braces himself for rejection and presses his head against the wood. “Yuuji,” he says, fond and sweet enough to feed Gojo for years.
He hears a hum from the other side, and the noise makes his heart skip a beat. Just like the rest of Yuuji, it’s beautiful.
“I love you,” Megumi whispers, quiet enough that he thinks that the wind could cover it. Yuuji has always had a good hearing though.
The silence that follows is deafening. Megumi doesn’t think his body is working anymore, his life seems frozen, everything still and calm.
Until he hears a soft “Oh” of realization.
The sound is the stone that breaks the dam, and explanations spill out of Megumi’s mouth, like honey sliding off his tongue, without any filter of end to them. “That’s why I ran out when you said you liked someone else. I was freaking out during all of your hangout with Ozawa because I was so jealous and I thought you’d start dating her and you’d abandon us, abandon me. And I felt so bad thinking about you with someone else, so when you said that you were platonic, I was so relieved but then—”
“Megumi,” Yuuji interrupts, and Megumi can hear that he’s crying in the way he talks. “Do you know who that someone else is? The person I like?”
Megumi doesn’t, and he doesn’t think he ever wants to, but Yuuji doesn’t give him the choice, he keeps talking.
“It’s you. It’s always been you.”
Megumi’s brain goes blank, and the only reply he can find is “Oh,” his mouth a perfect round.
From the other side of the door, Yuuji lets out a wet giggle. “Yeah, oh.” He hesitates for a second.
“Can you open the door?” he asks.
Yuuji doesn’t get an answer except for the click of the opening and Megumi’s blotchy face leaning over his seated figure. He jumps up and clears his throat.
“Hi.” His smile is blinding, and Megumi desperately wants to press his mouth against it, to taste it and keep it all to himself.
“Hi,” he replies instead, stepping back to let Yuuji enter.
Yuuji stumbles inside, almost tripping over his own feet. It would probably have been embarrassing for anyone else, but it’s Yuuji, so Megumi just finds it endearing.
They sit down on Megumi’s bed, side by side, thighs touching. Megumi can hear Yuuji’s steady breathing and feel the rise and fall of his chest.
“So— we like each other, uh?” Yuuji says. He isn’t looking at Megumi, just staring right in front, which gives the other the possibility of admiring his face from close up. The sharpness of his jaw, the curve of his nose, the deep brown of his eyes, the plumpness of his lips, the red on the tip of his ears and his cheeks.
Lost in that beauty, eyes flicking from one feature from another, he still answers, without stopping his current activity. “I love you.”
Megumi finds it surprisingly easy to confess. He isn’t sure whether it’s because it’s the second time the words flow out into the open for Yuuji to grab onto, or because this love is such a huge part of him that he can’t ignore it.
Yuuji turns his head, eyes staring deep into Megumi’s own. “I love you too,” he says, and it’s not any louder than a whisper, but it’s the best thing Megumi has ever heard.
The ugly monster that had settled in Megumi’s stomach fades away. He feels at peace now. He doesn’t have any reason to be jealous anymore, because Yuuji loves him. Not Ozawa, not anyone else, but Megumi.
“Good,” he murmurs, bringing his forehead to rest against Yuuji’s.
From this close, he can feel Yuuji’s breath on his skin, taste him in the air. He holds Yuuji’s face in his hands, his touch light as a feather at first, until Yuuji leans into it.
They stay like that for a while, telling each other stories through their eyes and their smiles, talking without a single word spoken.
The comfortable silence is broken by Yuuji’s quiet voice. “Megumi,” he rasps, “Can I kiss you?”
Megumi’s breath hitches. Not a word comes out of his mouth. He slides one of his hands to the back of Yuuji’s head and presses their lips together.
Yuuji smiles into it, and Megumi’s eyes are closed, but he can feel it against his mouth. It’s exhilarating and he wonders if he could fly away from happiness. He’s sure that Yuuji can feel Megumi’s smile too, because he sighs into their kiss, lips parting.
Megumi can’t stop himself from running his tongue against Yuuji’s lips, tasting the mix of salt and strawberry of his mouth. It’s delicious, a treat Megumi wants to never finish.
They explore the other’s mouths, noses bumping and teeth nibbling on flesh, and it’s messy but they cling onto each other, irrationally afraid one of them will disappear.
After what feels like seconds but must have lasted much longer, they pull away, panting. Megumi flops down onto his bed, dazed eyes looking at his ceiling. He feels Yuuji laying down next to him, and he laughs softly, a light, airy sound. Just a few hours ago, he was looking at this same ceiling while wallowing about Yuuji making out with someone else. Oh, how the tables have turned.
Yuuji’s eyes turn to him, a curious glint in them. Megumi just shakes his head, smiling, and gives him a peck on the cheek while his fingers find Yuuji’s own, interlacing with them. He nuzzles his head in Yuuji’s neck, feeling at ease and full of happiness.
Maybe the jealousy monster wasn’t all that bad, if it helped him get this.