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It all started as a joke.
Just something he’d say that’d act like a spell and absolve him of any punishment after a stupid remark, or encourage forgiveness after he’d break something irreplaceable.
Or eat something he was specifically told not to.
And with there being less and less missions as summer neared its end, he found himself delightfully making time for his friends and time to make a fool of himself more often, too.
He noticed he and Kugisaki argue a lot less over trivial things and even Fushiguro lightened up when Itadori wanted to rave to him about random sci-fi trivia and the like. In fact, his visits to Fushiguro’s room became so customary that he almost didn’t notice Fushiguro’s door always cracked open before Itadori even approached it. And the feeling that came from that undivided attention started to become something Itadori really wanted to get used to.
And what used to be a joke suddenly became more like a shield.
It was compulsive. He couldn’t help it if he tried, and it almost drove him to believe someone was truly meddling with his brain after all.
But any time he thought the blush on his cheeks would set him on fire whenever Fushiguro pouted because no one would agree to the restaurant he chose…
Or whenever Fushiguro would pretend he wasn’t falling asleep on him on the train, and Itadori would purposely angle his shoulder in the most uncomfortable position just to catch his head…
And, of course, the times they’d all say goodnight at the end of their missions and Itadori would wrestle himself into Fushiguro’s arms for a very exaggerated hug; one longer and much tighter than any others he’s given that day. His chin cradled over Fushiguro’s shoulder and closing his eyes to hone in on the beating of his heart against his…
All of this would soon have Itadori flushed from head to toe, jumping wildly back, and always paired with the same five words:
“It’s not me, it’s Sukuna!!”
And surely, just like a spell, all would be forgiven or at the very least ignored. Everyone would return to their bickering or previous conversations, their routine restored. And Itadori would release the biggest sigh of relief, grateful to make it through another day without humiliating himself just a smidge more than usual.
Until the next time, that is.
And there was always a next time.
Another uneventful week soon came around, and even though fall was on the way, the residual summer heat still had everyone run-down, skin sticking to their uniforms and not having much to show for it. But the ever-energetic Itadori still begged for his classmates to spar with him for an afternoon. He was determined to test out a new offense technique against cursed weapons, and when Maki had passionately declined, that left Fushiguro, who neither confirmed nor declined the request but rather grunted in response to Itadori’s persistence. And that was enough of a confirmation for him.
The boys took their respective places across from each other on the training field. Panda and Inumaki had resorted to observing and “scoring” their session which mostly consisted of the two jeering and heckling, neither for nor against anyone in particular. Meanwhile, Kugisaki remained absorbed in whatever Maki was ranting about under the tree’s shade across from them.
While the two of them held their stances, Fushiguro stole half a second to dive into his labyrinth of strategies. He was more than familiar with the spontaneous movements of Itadori in any spar. He always started fast, with a right hook both sporadic and connected. But today would be a little different. Itadori didn’t plan to do as much attacking, so this provided a rare chance to really study him and maybe even try being impulsive for once too.
Throughout that second of time, Itadori, despite looking as spaced-out as ever, reacts instantly to Fushiguro’s obsidian blade suddenly only a hair from his eyebrow. The speed had the weapon glistening in the relentless sun but Itadori barely flinched at the sight of it. Fushiguro returns to his original position and they give each other a shared look, trusting and patient, until they’re moving again, “dancing” to no other beat than the one they know best.
Itadori can hear his pulse drumming in his ears and he smiles through smothered gasps. They hadn’t gone head to head in a while and they’d forgotten how worked up they get. Itadori’s outlandishly brutish strength kept Fushiguro on his feet. He attempts to match his pace only for Itadori to misstep once just to best Fushiguro in the next swing.
Fushiguro retracts his weapon with a grunt, his lips threatening to smile, and the sight seizes Itadori. Only when properly motivated did Fushiguro grant anyone such a look. It was paired now with a chuckle crackling through the humid air and scratched at an itch down Itadori’s spine.
But he’s apparently too entranced by the rare appearance of Fushiguro’s steady smile that his foot trips on air trying to evade Fushiguro’s next lunge.
He doesn't quite manage to avoid the trick move altogether as his jaw meets the handle of Fushiguro’s blade, totally throwing his equilibrium off. But full of tricks himself, in the midst of his fall, Itadori locks his leg around Fushiguro’s and slams them both down to the ground.
The floor shakes at the impact and Panda and Inumaki can be seen doing a very lackluster crowd wave in the back.
Having enough of the fight, and feeling literal sweat beads now course into places he’d rather they didn’t, Itadori tries to lift himself up but Fushiguro starts shouting complaints, chastising him for his lack of form. He even punches Itadori straight in the gut afterward, bringing him right back down over his chest.
“Get off me already!” Fushiguro orders, his fist flying into Itadori’s ribs now.
Itadori coughs and goes to grab hold of one of Fushiguro’s wrists, pinning it into the dirt.
“You can’t just punch me when I’m tryna get up, now you gotta deal with it!”
Then they’re rolling. Limbs jab into stomachs, just barely missing soft spots, and Fushiguro tries not to admit defeat as his clearly tiresome bones grow more slack as they tussle around. In the end, Itadori has him pinned yet again and Fushiguro issues a silent truce to which Itadori is happy to accept.
But his heart plummets when he attempts to stand again.
He notices his knee perfectly slotted between Fushiguro’s parted legs and when he tries to shift himself up, it worsens the situation, brushing himself a little too much against the middle of Fushiguro’s pants. His breath hitches at the contact. It was an accident, he panics to himself. At least, he thinks it was an accident. Regardless, he refuses to move anymore, mortified, but when his eyes meet Fushiguro’s, he sees those dark eyes morph into a very questionable look; one both sure and also wild with curiosity.
Itadori finally clears his throat, hoping to dig his heart out from wherever it fell to in the process.
“Eh, sorry, Fushiguro,” he says. “That was…”
But the words stall once Fushiguro’s brows elevate patiently. Itadori swallows as subtly as he possibly can but it makes him all the more obvious, Fushiguro no doubt catching on as his own gaze lowers, staying on Itadori’s throat until he looks up into his eyes once more.
“Well, is he gonna move or what?” Fushiguro asks.
Sweat pricks under Itadori’s underarms, burning and slicing at him treacherously.
“Uh-”
And, sure, he would’ve moved, but he swears he feels Fushiguro’s finger tease the soft skin of his wrist, and it’s like it snags onto his soul a bit.
But hearing the footsteps of Panda and Inumaki approaching physically rips Itadori from the moment and his hand clenches, retreating back to his side.
Upon seeing the two still tangled into each other, Panda immediately starts to chortle.
“Hah, and what do we have here?” He asks the boys. “If you two stay like that any longer, I’m gonna take a photo.”
Inumaki lets out a muffled “Salmon” and waves his phone screen.
“Oh, never mind, looks like we already did.”
Itadori, now in the full presence of their upperclassmen, remembers himself and finally gets off the ground, followed by Fushiguro struggling to do the same. Dirt tracks their faces but a soft stain of red can still be spotted.
There’s a beat, and Panda’s eyes flit from Itadori to Fushiguro. “Are we actually interrupting something?” He asks.
“No!” Itadori assures. “You know, it’s just Sukuna, that’s all — always butting in, heh…”
Itadori only now realizes that Kugisaki and Maki have finally joined them too. Kugisaki walks up to his side, glued to the phone in her hand while her other wrist droops over her hip.
“Ehh,” Kugisaki groans loudly in the heat. “This Sukuna is way too sensitive when it comes to Fushiguro.”
Itadori’s laugh is a little bigger than expected and Kugisaki shoos him and his loudness away with a wave of her hand.
“Right?” Itadori was determined to ride out this opportunity that she set up so perfectly. Because of course that made sense. It was believable enough, and it wasn’t like it was a total lie either. “He’s so obsessed with him, I don’t get it! It’s creepy!”
Itadori turns his head behind him, waiting to see Fushiguro’s usual show of flat amusement, but he doesn’t really give Itadori anything to feed off of. He listens absently and his gaze forms in a way Itadori doesn’t recognize as easily; withdrawn and paired with eyes hidden behind raven hair.
Kugisaki, without even needing to look behind Itadori, instinctively elbows him in his stomach, sending him flying comically back onto the grass. He groans, preparing to boldly scold her, but when he looks up at her eyes (along with Maki’s that rival in intensity), he knows questioning either of them will earn him an elbow to the head next.
“N-Not like that, I’m saying the obsession is creepy, not Fushiguro! Well, I mean, not that being into Fushiguro is creepy either — he’s cool and all, of course, but I’m just saying—”
“Agh, enough already!” Kugisaki shouts, raising her arm. Itadori prepares for yet another strike until they both hear Fushiguro’s voice.
“It’s fine, Kugisaki, just…drop it.”
And normally she’d still land her hit on the basis of principle, but they both get the feeling that he really wanted them to end it there.
“Isn’t that movie gonna start soon, anyway?” Kugisaki asks, scratching her fingers into her hair.
“Oh!” Itadori yelps and is immediately back on his feet. “Yes! You’re still coming, right?”
“I never said I was!”
“It’s the fourth installment of—”
“Ugh, please stop.” Her hand meets Itadori’s mouth but instead of going silent, he continues his rant into her open palm. “I’m not doing anything until I get a shower and a change of clothes.”
Itadori finally removes his face from her hand.
“Okay, just meet us there afterwards! By the way, you got any cash on you?”
He attempts to go for her waist bag which then incites a full on chase. As he tries to escape her, he steals a look behind him to see Fushiguro dragging his feet beside their upperclassmen.
Nothing was really out of the ordinary about it and yet, Itadori had to will himself to look away. As if the expression on Fushiguro’s face would begin to turn his own body just as listless as his.
Later outside the cinema, Itadori squawks down at his phone, finding out that Kugisaki did indeed cancel on them. At least, that’s how Itadori was putting it, though Fushiguro reminds him that she never actually agreed to tag along in the first place. Either way:
Classic, Itadori says to himself.
With a sigh, he clicks his phone off and stows it away.
“I’m sure you…wanna go back I guess, huh?”
Fushiguro’s mouth sinks below his jacket collar as he shrugs, hands going into his pockets.
“We’re here now,” his words are muffled but they become clearer to Itadori as he watches him start to lead the way.
He knew it wasn’t that strange that Fushiguro stuck around, but it was rare for them to be found together publicly these days, especially with Fushiguro having many missions on his own and, more often than not, only being paired with him and Kugisaki to “supervise”.
So, this felt…different. But his chest fluttered at this silent confirmation; the reassurance that someone still wanted his company. And not just someone, but Fushiguro wanted it.
He’d chastise Kugisaki later and she’d pretend to complain and then make it up to him; their usual.
But though he’s excited that their plans are still a go, Fushiguro’s significant silence is still so deafening. It threatens to dampen the mood, making Itadori wonder if Kugisaki might have had the right idea about not being here right now.
Fushiguro didn’t fight with him over snacks like he usually did and didn’t scold him when he kept asking the staff to add extra butter over and over. And when Itadori combined their sodas to show off his self-proclaimed “gourmand geniusness”, Fushiguro didn’t even complain about the flavors turning chalky as a result.
Maybe something was really troubling him. He was always sort of an enigma without trying, sure, but he was never this detached with him. It made Itadori paranoid. Thoughts circled in his mind, ranging from, ‘Does he wish Kugisaki didn’t cancel?’ … ‘Does he wish she were here instead?’
…Does he not want to be here with me?
He could barely believe his mind would bring him there, knowing he’d be beaten by them both for having such thoughts, but there was something so vulnerable about it being just the two of them right now. It never felt like this before; like one sudden, uncareful move would have them collapsing. But what could he have been so desperate about ruining? This was just Fushiguro.
He decided to try his luck again once they found their seats in the auditorium. With the trailers still rolling, he probed Fushiguro with an elbow, tilting his chin at the absurdly stoic bodybuilder currently on the screen. With clumsy hand gestures, he mimes what’s supposed to be an inside joke involving President Yagi. Fushiguro clearly gets the idea, goading Itadori on with similar motions and puffing his own chest out. And when Itadori makes one last ridiculous (yet uncanny) facial expression, Fushiguro can’t contain himself much longer, bringing the back of his hand to his mouth to cover a sincere laugh. Meanwhile, Itadori bears no shame as his laugh comes roaring to life, hanging onto Fushiguro’s sleeve for support.
They’re immediately shushed by some viewers in front of them and Itadori lifts his palms up, all but shouting an apology, and Fushiguro pulls his shoulder back to silence him. The last remnants of his laughter still slip between his lips as he settles into his seat, avoiding eye contact with Itadori lest he accidentally laugh even more.
Itadori does finally quiet down but sneaks a look over at Fushiguro from time to time, eyeing the smile still branded on his face. He was relieved that his idea worked. It was always nice to see Fushiguro enjoying himself, even when he went through all the trouble of hiding it. He enjoyed just being in the same presence as the guy, but when he got the slightest proof that he actually wanted to be around him? Well, that was a different kind of privilege altogether.
The auditorium lights finally dim and Itadori locks in as the opening credits start with its dramatic score, complete with bright lights that surf over their faces.
Despite the partial obscurity of the room, Fushiguro has no trouble seeing the wide-eyed expression on Itadori’s face as the scenes play out. His silent focus was kind of hilarious, but he secretly envied Itadori and all his endless obsessions. And how there was always something new to learn about him.
Further into the movie, Itadori would give a scene analysis that Fushiguro didn’t ask for or recall even more (way too lengthy) inside jokes, and while it should have been irritating, Fushiguro couldn’t deny how entertaining he was making this bizarre film. Still, he nearly bruised his own elbow trying to silence Itadori with endless shoves before they’d be kicked out for good.
But those bumps to the shoulder slowly turned into limbs nestled in place, comfortably at home beside the other. Fushiguro relaxed not just in the seat but against Itadori, leaning some of his weight onto his shoulder. Itadori responded in kind, as always, propping up his body to reach him.
When a jump scare suddenly happens, they chuckle to themselves when Itadori jerks back with hands outspread, nearly missing Fushiguro’s face.
Fushiguro curses him and his dramatics and takes his hand, lowering it from his line of vision. But he doesn’t let go. So neither does Itadori.
For a while, Itadori thinks nothing of it, not wanting to disrupt Fushiguro’s experience even more. But when Fushiguro’s fingers curl over Itadaori’s with intent, he becomes concerned.
Maybe he was getting a little scared, despite how hard that was to believe. It’s not like Fushiguro was used to the grotesqueness of this genre, so it could have been a little overwhelming. Hell, it still shook Itadori up sometimes.
He decides to try being as comforting as possible, smoothing his thumb over Fushiguro’s knuckles, and the young man responds by rubbing his hair over Itadori’s shirt.
Suddenly, it’s way too warm in the room. Itadori secretly breathes out through pursed lips and eyes Fushiguro beside him. While his own breaths seemed calm, his pulse told a different story. It was racing underneath Itadori’s fingertips and Itadori’s own heart found it hard not to beat just as hard.
This was definitely new territory. It wasn’t like Fushiguro to initiate physical contact, normally only putting up with Itadori’s displays of affection to avoid hearing him complain. But here he was actually seeking his touch; in public, no less. Itadori didn’t know what to do with this. But his chest began to ache at the thought of it vanishing the second they’re out of the theater. He’d wanted a moment like this for so long, but he wasn’t allowed such thoughts. He respected Fushiguro’s boundaries too much, and thinking of invading that for personal, unforgivable desires was not what best friends did to one another.
Not noticing how caught up he was in his mental panic, Itadori accidentally grips Fushiguro’s hand in a way that even startles himself, nearly imprinting the lines of his palm into Fushiguro’s. Equally concerned, Fushiguro’s head lifts and his eyes meet Itadori’s, and he feels like he’s gonna be sick.
The colors in the room dance over Fushiguro’s frame, making him glitter in a way that’s so soft and yet so intense. On the other hand, his hair was matted a bit from leaning over Itadori and this gave him a more innocent and precious look that Itadori can’t help but crack a grin at.
Fushiguro’s eyes land on the smile he’s made and they stay there for quite some time. And the longer he stares, the more Itadori feels the walls closing in on him —
Until he looks closer and finds that it actually isn’t the walls but instead, Fushiguro who is leaning in; with eyelids coming to a close like descending curtains. Everything in Itadori’s turbulent mind tells him to look away and pretend he doesn’t see this coming, but he has to face this terrifying truth: that he doesn’t want to move.
He knows where this leads. He’s seen enough movies to get it. He just couldn’t believe he was clearly being given the green light. Blame it on the darkened room, the riveting drama playing in front of them, or the fact that there aren’t many people they get to meet their age at their school — Itadori didn’t know. This could all be a dream they awake from once the credits roll and they step out into the real life outside these walls.
But no matter how short-lived this was sure to be, this was really happening. And it was happening right now. So Itadori decides to stay inside the dream a little longer, and lets their lips meet.
Fushiguro reacts with a small jolt. Maybe he didn’t think Itadori would meet him here. But with their lips connected, all senses begin to melt into the touch and thoughts scatter from their brains. Itadori scours his mind for the way he’s seen this done on a tv screen before and presses in deeper, overlapping his lip onto Fushiguro’s. It makes Fushiguro take in a quick breath, prompting Itadori to probe the tip of his tongue between the space experimentally. Though smothered, Itadori hears Fushiguro hum a sound shy of a moan and it’s so unseemly that Itadori feels a sinister rush collapse his veins. His tongue snakes in a little more and it’s messy and so embarrassingly inexperienced but they stay like this, chasing each other’s lips down like it’s the first taste they’ve ever known. Itadori knew he must’ve been breathing pretty hard, but it didn’t overpower the score of the film and he was thankful for that right now.
Fushiguro seems to become a bit unsteady from the force of Itadori too and, for support, his hand finds the front of Itadori’s shirt; gripping the fabric under his nail beds as Itadori’s kiss keeps knocking the air out from his lungs.
He could not understand how Fushiguro was of sound mind while doing this with him. It just didn’t make sense; it didn’t seem real.
But Fushiguro’s gentle and anxious palm was indeed real and it trailed along Itadori’s stomach now, occasionally knocking his knuckles into the popcorn tub Itadori somehow still managed to balance on his lap. The heat of him had Itadori feeling so exposed. Though he knows Fushiguro’s hand is only over his clothes, he believes he can feel the literal bumps of his skin on his own and he shudders into the kiss that Fushiguro keeps them grounded in. He was so dedicated that it was dizzying.
And once Fushiguro’s teeth start to nip at Itadori’s bottom lip, his spine stiffens and he knows he won’t be able to hide what threatens to happen next.
He tears himself from the kiss and Fushiguro instinctively covers his mouth with his wrist, a thin wet trail breaking off in the process. Itadori catches his breath and leaves a considerable amount of space between the two of them, but still remains close enough for Fushiguro to hear his next words.
The same senseless words he’s repeated for months now.
He ends the iteration with a half chuckle, but Fushiguro doesn’t laugh and he doesn’t smile.
In fact, he doesn’t have a single reaction at all.
And it’s a million times worse.
Even in this darkness and with the rapid lights across their faces, Fushiguro’s eyes burn the brightest between them; and its light is fiercer than it’s ever been before.
With another swipe of his wrist over his face, Fushiguro recoils his lips to a close; locking his breath behind gated teeth. He averts his eyes, hair suddenly falling back into place and obscuring Itadori’s sight of him.
Itadori is too speechless to ask what all this means. Surely, Fushiguro had just gotten carried away in Itadori’s impulsive show of passion. He most likely hadn’t even wanted to be put in that situation…and yet, he’s so clearly agitated.
Still, Itadori rejected what it was all telling him.
Fushiguro rises from his seat with clenched fists at his side. He attempts to make his way down the aisle until Itadori’s hand acts faster.
When he grabs Fushiguro’s fist, he finally feels the weight of his anger. Even while still, Fushiguro shakes where he stands. Itadori swallows hard. He wanted to say something — something meaningful for once — but he was still so damn useless. And scared, above all else.
Taking too long to speak, Fushiguro starts to pull away from his hold, so Itadori then stands up too, popcorn raining down onto their shoes.
“Wait, Fushiguro,” Itadori finally begs. “Don’t— agh!”
Fushiguro’s strength, always a secretly deadly force, rips Itadori away from his arm and this, in turn, makes Itadori land loudly over the arm of the chair. He groans and more insults from the viewers ensue.
He knew he deserved every word.
What the hell is wrong with me?
He lifts himself off the chair and stares at the exit, but Fushiguro’s nowhere to be seen.
If he didn’t go after him, everything would be irreparably worse from here on out.
He was finally seeing that now.
Itadori’s feet were practically on fire from running out of the theater. He had to evade every moving body he encountered, keeping his eyes on the door and praying that he’d have a second chance at this.
But he scoffs at himself when his feet finally bring him outside and there’s not a soul that matters in sight.
He let it finally sink in as he stood stupidly outside the doors.
He’d already been given plenty of chances and wasted them all. Why would he think he deserved much more now? He was pathetic.
But he hears something scraping along the sidewalk and follows the sound until he makes it to a bench on the side of the building. It’s completely abandoned, save for the dark-haired, slouching body that sat there, dragging his foot over a rock and tagging the cement below.
Itadori sighs and begins walking toward Fushiguro until he hears a congested sniff, paired with his sleeve clearly raising to dry his damp face.
Itadori slows his movements. This was worse than he could’ve imagined. It was one thing when he was torturing himself with his insecurities, but now he’d really gone and disappointed his best friend. He’d made him look and feel this way and he was so, so ashamed. Just how could he do that to him?
Before Fushiguro’s state becomes contagious, Itadori shakes his head quickly and continues walking over.
Fushiguro doesn’t stir at his presence, but his foot eventually halts over the rocks and Itadori stands beside him, rigid.
“Fushiguro?”
There’s nothing. Set underneath this now starless night, he could’ve completely vanished for all Itadori knew.
“Fushiguro,” he tries again. “I’m sorry I let that all get out of hand. I might’ve just — I don’t know, got lost in the moment. I got so comfortable next to you and you held my hand and I just…I wasn’t thinking at all. I’m sure I disgusted you and completely overstepped, so I just want you to know that I’m sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me right now, but you have to know it was…a mistake.”
Stop.
“I didn’t mean for that to happen.”
Stop talking.
“I-It’s not m—”
“Yuji.”
Before Itadori can curse himself even more, the sound of his name coming out of Fushiguro’s mouth finally has him shutting the hell up.
Fushiguro finally looks up and his dewy eyes crease, but he braves through it anyway. Itadori decides to finally sit next to him, promising himself he won’t speak until it’s appropriate to do so again.
“It’s …embarrassing, ” Fushiguro goes on and Itadori’s blood runs cold. “I wanted you to kiss me back. I wanted you to hold my hand. And I’ve wanted you to compliment me, and make time for just us, and hug me more than you do everyone else…”
Itadori’s body feels as though it’s fighting a never-ending fever as he has no choice but to face this all head-on for once. His eyes stay glued to Fushiguro, watching his jaw clench and unclench before continuing.
“I don’t have any cursed spirit to blame that on,” he looks at Itadori after this and a spiteful smirk ghosts across his face, but it doesn’t mask the flicker of hurt in his eyes. “How’s that fair?”
The crack in his voice is enough to make Itadori’s own chest crack as well, his heart swelling with the sound of every shaky breath Fushiguro released.
He really screwed up and couldn’t hide from it anymore, but he was just never sure if he’d ever be taken seriously. Well, this sure wasn’t helping the situation.
Fushiguro then shifts and a sigh passes through his hand.
“Would it…really be so bad…if you liked me? Just you?”
Maybe he’s referring to those previous words at school, Itadori thinks.
He also thinks Kugisaki should’ve hit him much harder.
He slams his hands on top of his hair. He was the biggest idiot he’s ever known. All he ever did was either run away or run his mouth, of course never saying anything of real importance. And here was Fushiguro, shivering from head to toe from his own unbelievable courage and the trust he’s always had in his friend. Bracing for the worst.
How could he possibly deserve this guy?
“No,” Itadori groans. “No, of course not.” Itadori lowers his hands and looks at Fushiguro who still sinks in his seat. “Shit, the last thing I want is for you not to trust me anymore.”
Fushiguro’s eyes tilt to the sky.
“Something something about a boy who cried wolf,” he mumbles.
“I really am sorry, Fushiguro.”
Fushiguro looks at him for a second and nods, breath getting trapped inside his palm again.
“Seriously,” Itadori says. “I’m just an idiot.”
“Yeah,” Fushiguro says. “You are.” And it stings but Itadori knows it needs to. “It’s okay, though.”
A trail of wind picks up and howls into their faces, and its strength has Itadori feeling incredibly hollow. Meanwhile, Fushiguro hangs his hands over his lap and rubs them together to fill the silence with as much noise as possible. But it only makes Itadori think of what his hands might feel like right now, inviting the imagination to run wild in his mind instead of shutting it out like he’s used to doing.
“So,” Fushiguro starts. “Do you wanna go back inside or—?”
“I like you.”
It’s not the confession he might’ve dreamed of, and definitely not the one Fushiguro deserves, but he was not going to keep disrespecting the man’s time any longer. He was worthy of so much more. And if Itadori would be given just one more chance, he’d give him that.
But the words have Fushiguro frozen in place. His face is more hidden than before, so Itadori looks up to the sky above and groans.
With both arms around Fushiguro’s shoulders now, he invites himself into a hug and begins to rock them both as hard as he can.
“I said I like you!” and he repeats the words over and over, pleading into Fushiguro’s hair and shaking the affection right into him. And before he wonders if he’ll get brutally pushed away, he sees a pink blush spread quickly over Fushiguro, and backs off just a little.
“Okay, okay! Stop it, you oaf!” Fushiguro croaks. “Just…just give me a minute, okay?”
His palms then fly to his face and Itadori grins, knowing he’d give the guy all the time in the world.
Knowing he’d give him everything.
After a minute, Fushiguro’s breaths start to sound tight.
“I don’t even…” The words hiccup in his throat, which makes yet another blush bleed across his cheeks. Before he can hide himself again, Itadori speaks.
“Megumi. Can I kiss you?”
Fushiguro, of course, eyes him suspiciously and Itadori takes hold of both his hands and shakes his head so hard it could’ve rolled off his shoulders.
“This is me, just me, promise! I really want to.”
Fushiguro studies his eyes and scans them for even a wisp of deception, but they’re set as stone.
He says nothing but moves his head up a bit and gives a half nod. Itadori has to hold back his smile lest he embarrass Fushiguro more, so he bends in leisurely. His fingers cup underneath Fushiguro’s chin and he lets their lips meet with a crisp, cool click that instantly warms the longer they stay together.
Fushiguro remembers how this goes, same as Itadori, but these were much different circumstances than earlier. The contact instantly thaws their bodies the moment the two meet. Like the sun setting over a sea of ice. The warmth of their breaths clasp in harmony and Itadori takes hold of Fushiguro before they evaporate on the spot.
He realizes he really should’ve done this much sooner, for more reasons than one. Kissing someone who likes you back is criminally underrated in the grand scheme of things. Itadori tried his best to hold back but it was hard not to put months into this; and everything he’d denied both Fushiguro and himself for so long. But they had time.
Finally, they had so much time.
Fushiguro begins to pull weakly from Itadori, though unable to escape from his possessive hold on his hips.
“Y-You know, we’re missing that dumb movie,” he reminds Itadori who beams over at him.
He cared so much for the guy but he could do without the interruptions right now.
“It’s okay,” he assures Fushiguro, bringing his lips to his right temple. Fushiguro sucks his teeth to hide a much different noise in his throat.
“You’ve seen it already, haven’t you?”
“Twice.”
Fushiguro rolls his eyes. But when he does, Itadori slyly moves his face from the side of his cheek until it’s dipped right under his chin. While his touch was faint, Fushiguro melted in it all the same. Itadori massaged his lips over the sensitive skin of his throat and his inexperience had him messily dotting kisses along the side in a way that was both so aggravating but so satiating.
From there, Fushiguro’s no longer quick enough to stop the noises. He hadn’t known a thing about this feeling and knew even less about how to control himself while in this state. And to his mortification, it’s immediately noticed by the young man over him too.
As he squirms between Itadori’s palms, a whine keens out of his mouth as his gasps hover over them in a light blanket of mist.
“Yuji~” he complains.
Itadori could tell from Fushiguro’s eyes that this new tone wasn’t intentional but it still tickles his spine in just the right place. He tries to keep his eyes only shoulder-up afterwards, but also figures they might as well take this conversation elsewhere.
He gives Fushiguro one last squeeze and pulls back, and he can’t tell if Fushiguro is relieved or bothered by the pout he makes. In response, Itadori gives him a quick peck over his forehead anyway before taking both his hands and bringing them both up on their feet.
Fushiguro barely knows what to do with his hands anymore while Itadori’s go straight into his pockets, fingers immediately wiggling along the padded fabric inside.
“So!” Itadori then says. “Wanna go back home? We can talk somewhere more private.” He then leans in a bit closer. “Or not talk at all.”
Fushiguro instinctively punches him in the chest, blushing furiously again.
“Don’t just suddenly get all confident!”
Itadori instantly leans back and laughs, its sound wrapping around their shoulders; airy and warm. He tests the waters, taking a patient step forward again and bringing his face closer to Fushiguro’s burning cheek. When he’s not pushed away, he plants another short kiss onto him and purposely pulls away with a wet pop.
Fushiguro goes to rub it away as Itadori’s chuckles continue on as he links their arms together.
“Alright, come onnn.”
His gesture slowly eases Fushiguro out of his grumpy state like magic. They begin their walk home and, embarrassment aside, Fushiguro decides to grip his hand in Itadori’s the whole way there.
And it’s alike any other time their hands have met, except this came with a little less force.
He willed himself to believe that Itadori wouldn’t fight this; that he wouldn’t let him go. He finally knew that this hand against his own was indeed only Itadori’s. And that he truly wanted to be here.
Just the two of them.
Alone together.