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When Megumi and Yuuji got together, it wasn’t with the boom and theatrics Megumi had imagined based on the romantic comedies Nobara always roped him into watching. There was no dramatic confession in the rain, no desperate kiss with tongue and teeth clashing as they finally got to kiss for the first time, no heart wrenching moment in which he thought he was going to lose Yuuji once and for all.
Instead, on a random Tuesday night, after he and Yuuji finished having dinner as they watched a documentary Megumi had been wanting to watch for a while on jellyfishes, Yuuji stared at Megumi with a bit of a gobsmacked expression before simply blurting out, “I love you”.
And Megumi, who in turn had become equally as gobsmacked and felt his heart pounding at 100 miles/hour as he desperately prayed Yuuji didn’t mean it in a platonic sense, simply let out an “I love you too”.
“But not as a friend, right?” Yuuji asked, looking just the tiniest bit anxious.
Megumi shook his head. “Definitely not as a friend. Not like a best friend either,” he added, for good measure.
Yuuji nodded, looking thoughtfully to the side as he did. “Cool,” he said. “That’s… cool.”
“Cool?” Megumi asked dubiously. “That’s what you’re going with?” and then he’d simply leaned in and kissed him. For good measure, too.
Megumi had hesitated for months on whether he should confess to Yuuji because he was scared of changing the way things were between them. Instead, the shift in their relationship from roommates/best friends to boyfriends was nearly as easy as breathing.
Casual touches between them became more frequent, if also more charged; their laundry mixed together more often than not on account of how often they slept in each other’s rooms; falling asleep together became the new norm and not the exception; Yuuji started adding hearts and little ‘I love you’s to the little sticky notes he always placed on Megumi’s lunch container in the fridge; Megumi waited up every time Yuuji came home late from swim practice so they could have dinner together instead of pretending he’d simply forgotten to eat earlier.
It was a rainy Wednesday night, maybe some six months after they’d gotten together, when they headed to the laundromat down the street from their apartment.
Spring was nearly giving way to Summer but not without squeezing out the last few days of heavy rain. Megumi and Yuuji were knee deep in the last few weeks of the semester, trying to study as much as they possibly could while still attending classes and any other activities they had, and laundry had simply… piled up. Last thing on their minds, really.
That was how they found themselves walking down to the laundromat while carrying two full bags of laundry. Yuuji wanted to carry them both by himself but Megumi protested because then they couldn’t hold hands on the way.
The laundromat was nearly empty when they arrived, devoid of any life except for a girl – probably around their age too – sitting at the end of a row of plastic benches, headphones covering her head as she nodded off.
Megumi and Yuuji dumped their laundry into two washers – a mix and match of light and dark, Yuuji’s and Megumi’s, regular and delicates – and took a seat next to each other, across from the other row of benches where the other girl sat. Megumi had brought a book and Yuuji had brought a manga so they could entertain themselves while they waited, leaning against each other.
Yuuji was restless though, always too full of energy and unable to stay still for a moment, so it wasn’t long before he was lying on the benches instead, head resting on Megumi’s lap as Yuuji crossed his long legs over two seats and supported his manga on them. Megumi’s hand reflexively fell to Yuuji’s hair, playing with it absentmindedly as he kept reading.
The washers beeped and they got up to load their clothes into the dryers instead. The girl that had been there before had already left without them noticing so it was just the two of them now, alone at night in the laundromat while the rain fell outside.
As if in silent agreement, Megumi moved to hop on one of the empty washers. As if moved by an invisible magnet, Yuuji was quick to follow, slotting himself in between Megumi’s parted legs. Sliding his hands over Megumi’s thighs, feeling the warm skin underneath through the thin fabric of his old sweatpants.
Their mouths slotted together, easily, peacefully. There was no rush, no eagerness to get to an imaginary finish line; there was only them, right then, right there, exchanging lazy, open mouthed kisses as they waited for their laundry to dry. Tongues sliding together, Yuuji biting softly into Megumi’s lower lip.
“What do you wanna do when we get home?” Megumi asked when they parted, resting his chin on top of Yuuji’s head as Yuuji buried his face into his chest, breathing him in.
“I want to watch a movie with you,” Yuuji said, somewhat muffled from the way his face was positioned against Megumi’s sweater, “but I have to finish my paper.”
“Do you have a lot left?” Megumi asked, threading his fingers through Yuuji’s short hair once again. It was a habit he couldn’t shake; without him even noticing, he often found his hand buried in Yuuji’s hair.
“Just the conclusion,” Yuuji muttered, falling into him just a little bit more.
Megumi hummed, amused at his boyfriend’s demeanor. “I’ll help you,” he said, smiling at the way Yuuji’s head shot up so he could grin at him. “We need to walk the dogs first, though.”
“Of course,” Yuuji immediately agreed, still grinning widely. Yuuji straightened back up and kissed Megumi again, firmly. Megumi smiled into the kiss.
☾
Megumi didn’t usually cook. He could, but he didn’t. He was mildly alright at it, having learned just enough not to starve himself to death or need to rely solely on instant meals, but after he and Yuuji had become roommates back in their second year of university he’d quickly found he didn’t really need to cook anymore, not beyond the basics.
But tonight he wanted to cook. Tonight was special and he wanted to cook for Yuuji.
It was their one year anniversary. One year since they’d blurted out their feelings for each other and had somehow fallen into the easiest relationship of Megumi’s life. One year since he’d stopped being cold at night and could curl into his boyfriend’s warmth.
Yuuji was going to be home late. He had swim practice, a competition coming up the next weekend which meant their coach was making them train harder than ever. Yuuji always took it all in stride, never letting his weariness show or letting his tiredness slow him down. He was on a sports scholarship and his studies – his future – very much depended on it, even if he often showed a careless mask to the rest of the world, so he always pushed through relentlessly.
“We can celebrate tomorrow,” Yuuji had suggested that morning, when he’d woken Megumi up with tiny little kisses all over his face, burying them both under the mountain of sheets and blankets Megumi insisted they sleep with. “I’ll make you breakfast in bed, we can go visit that museum that’s free on Saturdays, then maybe lunch out somewhere–”
Megumi had refused. Yuuji was always doing the most for him – breakfast in bed almost every weekend, making him lunch for the next day even when he got home late from practice, volunteering at the shelter with him every weekend, leaving coffee brewed for him when he had to leave earlier in the mornings. This time, Megumi wanted to do something for Yuuji.
He was feeling sentimental, so the choice of meal for the night was easy enough – Yuuji’s meatballs.
He’d taught him how to make them when they first started living together. They’d been friends since their first year, living in the same dorm floor. They first met at the dorms and then realized they had a class together – where they ended up meeting Nobara – and somehow, without Megumi even realizing it, they became inseparable.
Life in the dorms made it easy for Megumi to hide how little effort he put into cooking, so it was only when he and Yuuji decided to kiss the dorm life goodbye and get a nicer place for themselves near campus that Yuuji realized Megumi didn’t put much effort into it at all, really, and always ate the same things.
So, “Meatballs,” Yuuji announced one day, seemingly having waited in the living room all afternoon for Megumi to come home so he could greet him just like that, suddenly showing up behind him as he closed the front door.
“What?” Megumi asked, dumbly, caught off guard.
“We’re making meatballs,” Yuuji said, and the huge grin he sported on his face made it impossible for Megumi to say no.
Tonight, he was making them by himself. Grinding the chicken, thinly slicing green onions, adding ginger to his heart’s content. Rolling the dough into little balls and cooking them in the air fryer Yuuji had been ecstatic about when Megumi first agreed they could get it. Chopping up vegetables for his homemade broth.
It was a simple recipe, made simpler by the fact that he first learned it side by side with Yuuji as he showed him how to roll the balls into perfect spheres, and his heart threatened to burst from his chest as he thought about how much he liked him. Loved him.
Yuuji arrived just as Megumi was setting the dining table, blushing to himself as he placed small tea candles between where they would sit across from each other. A fire hazard, one might say, but Megumi knew to be careful.
“Woah, babe,” Yuuji exclaimed, bounding into the room, feet clad only in socks but still wearing his thick winter coat, “you cooked? It smells amazing,” he praised, and Megumi’s chest tightened with affection at how excited his boyfriend looked.
“Welcome home,” he said, feeling oddly bashful as he walked over towards Yuuji so he could help him out of his coat.
“You really didn’t have to do this,” Yuuji said, later, as they finished up the rest of the hotpot and he poured more wine for Megumi. “I missed most of our anniversary and I didn’t even get to do anything special for you,” he lamented, pouting a bit.
Megumi smiled – a rarity, though not so much when he was around Yuuji – and took a sip from his topped up glass, unable to stop staring at Yuuji. “We have all weekend,” he finally said, reaching out to hold Yuuji’s hand over the table, interlacing their fingers. “Besides, I really wanted to do this.”
Yuuji blushed then, and Megumi felt his chest get impossibly warm. With Yuuji, he always felt like he’d won the lottery.
☾
Yuuji was sick.
He refused to admit it, but Megumi knew. It was obvious, even, from the way he could barely keep his eyes open from the pounding he was surely feeling in his head, and from how his voice had acquired a nasal quality, raspy from the couch racking his body.
“I’m going,” Yuuji stubbornly said, glaring at him from where he was bundled up in blankets on the living room couch.
Megumi rolled his eyes, having heard the exact same words about 50 times already. “Stop being so stubborn,” he said, leaning down to peck Yuuji’s forehead and rearrange the blankets around him. “I’ll be back soon.”
“But I’m fine,” he said, obviously not fine. “I can walk the dogs with you,” he insisted.
“No,” Megumi said, firmly, feeling his heart break the tiniest bit with how sad Yuuji looked. Yuuji looked as though he’d broken his heart entirely, like he’d told him they were breaking up and never seeing each other again – as if –, and he had the biggest puppy eyes he’d ever seen. If Megumi were a weaker man – which, in many ways, especially when it came to Yuuji, he was – he would let them sway him; in the end though, his concern for his boyfriend won.
He left Yuuji on the couch, pouting cutely at the TV that Megumi had turned on for him on a cooking show he knew he liked, dimmed the lights in the living room and took his dogs out.
Kuro and Shiro hesitated slightly, unused to being walked at that time without Yuuji as well, but Megumi pulled them along and they went, quickly forgetting they’d been worried in the first place. Megumi took them to the dog park nearby, let them off their leash to run around and play with each other once he checked no one was there, and then he sat on a wooden bench as he resisted the urge to text Yuuji.
Yuuji was fine. He didn’t need anything and Megumi had left everything ready for him should he need it – a mug filled with hot tea on the center table, pushed closer to him; aspirin and a glass of water; throat medicine. He was more than fine but Megumi was still worried.
On his way home he stopped by the grocery store, leaving Kuro and Shiro outside as he picked up what he needed to make Yuuji some chicken soup, hoping he wasn’t forgetting anything.
The apartment was silent when he got home, nothing but the faint sound of the TV filling the silence and what were unmistakably Yuuji’s faint snores. Kuro and Shiro could definitely tell he was asleep, because they were uncharacteristically careful as they silently walked to the living room once Megumi got them off their leash and went to sit at the foot of the couch, near where Yuuji slept peacefully.
The tea had been drunk and the aspirin had been taken, and Megumi quietly – as silently as he possibly could – carried the empty mug into the kitchen so he could load it into the dishwasher later. He put his groceries away too, lining up the ingredients he would need for the soup on the counter, and quickly got to work.
Chicken soup was something Tsumiki had taught him, actually. He’d texted her once, a couple of years earlier, when Yuuji had gotten the flu during their first year living together. She’d immediately noticed his panic and had sent him a comprehensive shopping list, along with clear cut cooking instructions.
‘Call me if you need anything!’, her second text had read, and Megumi’s cheeks burned as he ran to the grocery store just around the corner to get everything he needed.
Maybe that was when he knew he was in love with Yuuji. When Yuuji praised him for the best chicken soup he’d ever eaten – “no, really Meg, you have no idea!” – and Megumi’s blush intensified, trying to tell himself Yuuji was only being nice. Feeling a sense of satisfaction as Yuuji ate seconds and told him he was already feeling better. Megumi had done that; he’d cared for him.
Later that day, when he and Yuuji were both in bed together – Megumi pretending to read, Yuuji watching a video on his phone as his head laid on Megumi’s lap –, he couldn’t help but ask, “When did you know you were in love with me?”
Yuuji immediately paused the video, looking up at Megumi with a wondrous expression on his face. “Why do you ask?”
Megumi shrugged. “No reason,” he said, not stilling the motions of his hand on Yuuji’s hair; buried there as it usually was. “I just remembered it.”
Yuuji hummed, smiling up at him in a way that told him he’d seen right through him. He wouldn’t be surprised. “When we made meatballs for the first time,” he said, assertively. Megumi was surprised; that’d been early on then, though not much earlier than when Megumi himself had had his own realization. “I couldn’t stop staring at you as you followed every step of the recipe and focused so cutely on what you were doing,” he continued, “and when I still couldn’t stop staring at you after, while we were having dinner, I realized the reason I couldn’t stop staring at you wasn’t because we were doing something new together, but because I wanted to memorize all of your expressions, remember every single moment we spent together.”
Megumi sat there in stunned silence, so caught off guard his fingers had stopped threading through Yuuji’s hair. Yuuji whined at him then, butting his hand as though he was a housecat, and Megumi unconsciously started his movements anew.
“I love you,” he blurted out, feeling shy afterwards even though it was far from the first time he’d said it.
Yuuji laughed, taking the hand that had been coursing through his hair so he could drop a kiss to it. “When did you know?”
“When I first made you chicken soup,” Megumi admitted. “The first time I,” he hesitated, before pushing on, “took care of you. It felt good. Better than anything else.”
Yuuji too looked surprised now, before a soft look overtook his face. Shifting slightly – and earning himself a disapproving frown from Megumi, who wanted him to rest – he moved so he could place Megumi’s book – long ago closed and forgotten – on the nightstand and pull his boyfriend down to lie in bed with him.
He kissed Megumi’s cheek, avoiding his mouth so he wouldn’t get him sick – even if Yuuji was still insisting he wasn’t sick at all – and then Megumi was being manhandled to lie on his side, back against Yuuji’s warm chest.
“You’re sick,” Megumi protested, even as he snuggled further into his embrace, “I should be the big spoon.”
“Baby, you’re never the big spoon,” Yuuji laughed, interrupted only by a short cough.
Megumi humphed, but he didn’t fight him on it; he loved being the little spoon. Loved being in Yuuji’s big arms, surrounded by his warmth. He loved everything about Yuuji.
Yuuji surprised him by leaning over and placing another kiss on his cheek, laughing as Megumi twitched in surprise. “Night, Megs,” Yuuji said, tightening his arms around him. “I love you.”
Megumi brought one of his arms up to cling just as tightly to Yuuji’s, feeling already halfway through to sleeping. “I love you too.”