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The phone stays dark in Yuji’s hand. He stares at the screen and flicks it on and off, but no notifications come through, and it only lights up when he tells it to. He frowns and checks that his text sent properly. With his free hand, between his fingers, he rubs the soft petals of one of the flowers near the alter. Fresh bouquets fill every corner of the space, but they’re all placed artfully, and Yuji’s sure whoever set them up worked hard to do so.
He fidgets with his phone again and checks the text again. Nothing has changed.
[yuji 15:42] hey did u approve the hydrangeas? I thought u were allergic :(
No response, not even a sign that the message has been read. Yuji chews on the inside of his cheek and switches to a different tab. His heart pounds harder in his chest than he would like it to right now, and his hand shakes as he brings the phone to his ear.
It rings, and rings, and rings, and no one ever answers on the other end. A cold voice delivers the inbox message and tells Yuji to leave his name and number and he may or may not ever get a call back.
Yuji sucks in a breath through gritted teeth. “Hey, babe, it’s me,” he says with a strained laugh. “I know you don’t like voicemails, but you’re, uh, kind of stressing me out. I really hope you’re awake. And okay. Sent you a few questions, just get back to me as soon as you can.” He closes his eyes, forces himself to relax his jaw, and grips the phone a little tighter. “I love you, Megumi. Bye for now.”
The tension doesn’t leave Yuji’s shoulders as he hangs up the phone and slips it back into his pocket. He has the volume as high as it can go. If Megumi answers, he’ll hear it.
Aside from the potentially hazardous flowers, which are still beautiful, speckling the array like a steady reminder, the way they’ve set up the park has transformed it into the most brilliant sight Yuji has ever laid eyes on. It was Megumi who wanted to have it far outside the barriers, and Yuji who wanted it outside outside, and the mix brought them to a quiet lakeside, out of the watchful gaze of the city and common people. The breeze kisses Yuji’s cheeks as he strolls across the grounds. Sunlight reflects off the glittering water and illuminates the alter from the back.
He focuses on that spot, and thinks about how he can’t wait to walk down the aisle and wait for Megumi at the end of it.
It’s not his job to make sure everything is in place—Maki and Nobara have done so well keeping it all in line, he could kiss them both—but he wanders around the area anyway, taking in the beauty of it all and maybe adjusting things here and there. Megumi is probably just focused on getting ready, he tells himself. He could be taking a breather to prepare himself. This is the biggest moment of their lives, after all.
Well, one of the biggest moments, at least.
But Yuji can’t wait to share it with him. Something they chose, a promise to each other to never let go.
They have the reception and dressing rooms set up in a hotel just up the way, and Yuji walks there now, taking his time as he scans every detail of the ceremony space. He’s greeted by a crisp breath of air conditioning when he steps through the lobby’s sliding doors, and he passes by an open door, where tables are dressed in elegant white cloths for the dinner. The doors behind that are open to the yard—Yuji insisted they have a half-in, half-out style reception to take advantage of the good weather. Hydrangeas dapple as many surfaces as they can, draping down from the eaves of the cosy hallways and colouring the end tables. Leave it to the Zenin clan’s funds to get them half the hotel, despite the party’s small numbers.
Yuji loops back around to the reception hall and wanders in, his breath catching as he glances around at the warm lights hanging from the ceiling and the array of dishes laid out on the tables. The cake waits on a platform near the bar. He holds his breath as he ambles towards it, looks it up and down, and relishes in every detail—the little buttercream flowers, the elegant gold leaf embellishments. It’s small and simple enough, but with just the right touches that make it fit for the wedding of their dreams. They were right to let Nobara order it.
Amidst the flowing waves of his thoughts and feelings, Yuji dips in and draws out the memory of sampling cakes with Megumi, the two of them standing at a bakery counter and leaning over plate after plate. Sunlight peered in through the window to watch. They’d been laughing, both of them, and sharing bites as they whittled down their favourites.
Lemon, Yuji remembers, fills the bottom layer, ever so slightly larger than the top layer. He traces the outline of the cake and resists the urge to stick his finger in and try a piece off the top. He’d preferred the lemon, but Megumi had looked so pleased the first time he put a piece of almond cake in his mouth.
Footsteps sound on the tile floor behind him, faint clicks of platform heels. Yuji pulls himself out of his daze and turns to see who approaches.
Maki walks towards him hesitantly, but she bridges the distance from the entrance to the bar in no time. She’s dressed still in her casual blouse and slacks, ready to work, not to be decked out in ceremony attire yet. The dress will come later, a loose-fitting chiffon something that fell between dove grey and mauve in colour. Nobara would be wearing a similar outfit; they’d chosen the dresses themselves, but together with each other.
The clipboard hangs limply at Maki’s side. For the majority of the preparation, she’s had it propped in one arm, a pen at the ready to make check marks and take notes, all business to keep everything in order.
Now her shoulders slump, and her face is twisted and pale, two parts irritated, one part dejected and drained, and one part nothing at all.
“Maki.” Yuji crosses over to her in the last few steps, turning warily over his shoulder, away from the cake and the bar and the hydrangeas and facing out from the beautiful reception room. He stands to face her instead and tries to tilt his head in the right way to read her gaze. “What’s wrong? Did something happen?”
For a prolonged moment, she worries her lip between her teeth and stares at him like she’s trying to find a way to cut him open without hitting any vital organs.
“Itadori,” she says softly, and he thinks of the unread texts, and his world starts to collapse, just a little. Maki sighs. “You’re not going to like this.”
•••
She leads him down the meandering hallways and into a room he wasn’t supposed to visit. They had separate dressing rooms set up, he and Megumi, so that they could fulfil the aspect of anticipation and surprise that every wedding leads to. Yuji didn’t want to be away from him the whole day, especially after Megumi stopped answering his texts, but he had admitted the prospect of time to keep his head clear sounded nice.
He should have stuck with his gut instinct. He shouldn’t have left Megumi alone.
“He said had a headache and wanted to lie down for a bit,” Maki tries to explain as she follows Yuji around the empty room. She right everything he overturns, closes every door he opens. “He didn’t seem all that stressed, and I thought he just needed time to process. If I thought this would happen, I never would have—”
“I shouldn’t have left him.” Yuji’s voice comes out sharper and rougher than he means it to as he throws a pillow aside, as if Megumi could be hiding in the couch cushions. He ducks into the bathroom again and flicks the light on, pushes the shower curtain aside, and bustles out with a huff, leaving Maki to reorient the space in his wake. He hooks his hands together behind his neck and leans back into the pressure, letting out as steady a breath as he can muster. “You’re sure he didn’t just step out for a few minutes? He’s not anywhere else around the hotel? Did you check the lobby? The yard? What about my dressing—”
“Yuji.” Nobara cuts into his words with a gentle tone, yet she sounds almost as frustrated as he feels. She’s not, though, he’s certain. “We wouldn’t have told you he’s gone if we hadn’t taken the time to check everywhere first.”
Tears well up in Yuji’s eyes. He stares at the ceiling through blurred vision and refuses to meet Nobara’s eyes where she leans against the doorway with her arms crossed.
“But he can’t just be gone,” he says, his voice gone quiet and shaky. He blinks a few times and thinks about the cake, and the suit that’s waiting for him in a space identical to this one. Cold, empty, lacking Megumi. He thinks of the hydrangeas. “He would have said something.”
Nobara just shakes her head vigorously back and forth, like she’s trying to convince herself of some far-fetched fact, and Yuji doesn’t even want to fathom what that could mean.
Yuji whips around back in the direction of the pillow Maki just replaced for the fifth time and reels his hand back and punches it as hard as he can.
“Fuck,” he chokes out. The couch catches him as he slumps forward, putting all his weight onto the too-soft cushions. His heart threatens to crawl out of his throat. His arms shake in their effort to support him. Megumi can’t be gone. They’re getting married.
He takes a quick breath and asks, “Did anyone check if his car is still here? I left it for him when you picked me up, Nobara—”
“We checked,” Maki says, so low she might as well have not spoken at all. “His car is gone, Itadori.”
Yuji dares to remove one hand out from under him to slap it over his mouth. He squeezes his eyes shut tight. Through his own skin, he mumbles, “Maybe he ran home. Needed to grab something. He could’ve—He could’ve just gone home.” Tears spill over his hand, hot and fast, and he doesn’t even try to keep himself from sinking forward into the couch. Even as he says it, he knows it isn’t true. He can feel it, deep in his chest, something broken. Something snapped.
Megumi isn’t coming back.
But above that, lighter and warm and glowing, there is a sacred truth that fills Yuji to the brim and mixes with his tears. No matter how much hope spills out, though, it doesn’t leave him. He peels his hand away from his face and sucks in a fresh breath of oxygen. “There’s somewhere…” He furrows his brow and lowers his hand to his side, where his phone waits in his pocket. “One more place I could check. Nobara, can I borrow your car?”
He senses Nobara stiffen as she steps over to him. “Where is it you want to go?”
“I’m not positive,” he admits, avoiding the question in favour of the determination drawing him in, “but if there’s a chance, I have to try.”
“Maybe you should stay here,” Maki suggests. “One of us will go, and you can focus on getting ready.”
He’s shaking his head before she even finishes talking and lifting himself up off the couch. He has to get it together. “No,” he tells her, clear and firm and unshakable. “No, I have to go. I’m not going to be ready without him, Maki.”
Both of them step aside as he straightens and rolls his shoulders back, turning towards the door. “Nobara,” he says calmly, “your keys. Please.”
Without further argument, she takes them out and drops them into his open palm, and he’s out the door before they can stop him. He’s still in his polo and denim shorts, and the time the ceremony is meant to take place edges closer and closer, but he doesn’t care. Megumi isn’t here.
Yuji needs to find him.
•••
On the cusp of evening, the country roads are quiet, and even when Yuji breaks into the neighbourhood and stoplight-lined streets, he doesn’t encounter much traffic. Amber sunlight graces the sky in his rearview mirror as the sun descends. He has the radio on low, just so he doesn’t have to listen to the sound of his own blood rushing in his ears.
His knuckles are white from how tightly his hands grip the wheel, but he feels strangely calm and confident, lucid as he eases through street after street. He doesn’t know the route, but he knows exactly where he’s going. Somehow, his hands know how to get there. Everything flows by in a mix of glistening lights and muffled sounds, and Yuji drives in a daze in which all he can think about is Megumi. Finding him. Being there for him. Getting home to him.
He tries not to let himself entertain the darker thoughts, but they nibble at his mind anyway, and slip beneath his skin.
Sepia images of Megumi walking away with his back turned flash in the space between his thoughts and the real world. Burnt at the edges, photographs of spaces Megumi used to occupy flutter down. Every picture is empty; every frame hugs still air. For seconds at a time, he forgets how to breathe. There are bloodier images, too, paths that end in the worst way possible. What if it was more than running away? What if it was more than getting married that pushed him out of reach?
Yuji bites his tongue, and he almost can’t bear it.
A few more turns take him into the parking lot of a more modest hotel outside the city limits, with a large yard stretched out behind it, not dissimilar to the one they’d picked out. The one they both left behind, one at a time. Yuji must have been driving for over an hour, but the passage of time whisks itself away from his notice.
The parking lot is busier than he would expect. Most of the cars are clustered closer to the yard than the sliding front doors, and a few business vehicles sit among them—a flower truck, a catering company.
Just past the edge of the building, warm lights come into view. Yuji parks surprisingly well and unbuckles his seatbelt and, still more or less on autopilot, follows the glow. The sun casts its rays through the soft grass as he stumbles through it, towards the horizon. Vaguely, he thinks it would be better to check with the front desk first, ask if someone by the name Fushiguro or Itadori checked into a room tonight, but the growing sounds of conversation and clinking glasses call to him. Carry him onward. Yuji’s heartbeat is strong deep in his chest.
Then his phone buzzes in his pocket, and his heart almost stops.
He tears the phone free of the fabric of his polo and dress pants and scrambles to unlock it, his thumb on the print button, fingers hastily tapping the screen to wake it up. Two new notifications wait for him, two simple messages.
sorry, Megumi’s texts read. i love you.
Yuji’s breath catches like a hook in his throat. He gulps down a few unstable breaths and bends over himself halfway. His hands shake. He clutches the phone for dear life. He should turn back, logic tells him, because Megumi’s in trouble, and he needs to get to him now, he can’t waste any more time here at a hotel he thought was special—
But instinct tells him to stay where he is. A tug at his ribcage too persistent to ignore pulls him onward. Yuji takes another breath and forces himself to calm down.
Crickets begin to chirp in the grass. The darker the sky gets, the more lights appear: dusk casting heavenly rays across the sky to tap into the ink, fairy lights and an array of candles setting themselves aflame, and fireflies peeking out of the grass, the first of them small, but mighty.
As soon as Yuji breaches the side of the building and steps out into the backyard, he sees it. A small crowd of people gather together in a designated seating area with metal folding chairs all facing one direction. Everyone there is dressed in elegant attire, from mauve dresses like Maki’s and Nobara’s to white suits like the one he was set to wear.
It’s a wedding. Quaint, beautiful, full of love.
There’s a cruelty to the way the decorations mirror the ones at the hotel he left. A twinge of jealousy lines Yuji’s throat as he swallows. There are people dressed in the same clothes, a cake set off to the side near the makeshift bar, the same lights hanging from the trees. If Megumi had stayed long enough, they would have seen fireflies light up the yard at the lake, too, before they disappeared together into the reception hall.
There’s a wedding that feels suspiciously familiar at the hotel where they spent their first anniversary, and it isn’t theirs.
Yuji tries to keep himself upright, tries to fight the urge to sink down into the grass right here and now. His vision blurs a little, but the events playing out before him are still remarkably clear. He remembers, to a degree, clicking around on his laptop at a myriad of venues and scrolling briefly over this one. They’d called, but it was already booked for the date they wanted.
And Megumi isn’t here. Yuji feels himself splitting apart on the inside. He should have turned back. He shouldn’t have listened to whatever this drive was pulling him forward. It’s only lead to hurt, and betrayal, and a devastation he doesn’t fully understand as it unravels within him and bares its fangs. He looks around, desperately, for a sign, for a reason he’s here and not standing at his own alter. He searches for a meaning in the madness clawing at the insides of his skull.
He looks around, and he sees him.
The world spins on its axis.
Off to the side, sticking close to the shadows of the hotel instead of near the ceremony grounds with the rest of the crowd, propped up on a stray decorative barrel with a glass of red wine in his hand, sits Megumi.
Yuji mouths his name before Megumi even turns to look at him. He’s still dressed in his long-sleeved white shirt, like the first time Yuji ever saw him. Yuji lurches forward and feels like gravity gives way beneath his feet as he hurries through the grass and towards his love.
“Megumi,” he says, louder this time, and his engagement ring is warm around the stub of his finger. “Megumi!”
Slow and steady, as if he doesn’t have a care in the world, Megumi turns his head towards the sound and watches Yuji patiently as he makes his way over. He doesn’t make an effort to get up, or even smile or wave at him, just watches. But there’s sadness in those emerald eyes. Yuji can tell by the way his lip twists that he’s biting the inside of it.
He doesn’t care that Megumi doesn’t stand up to greet him. He doesn’t care that he doesn’t look excited to see him, or even relieved. He’s here, and alive, and that’s all that matters to Yuji.
He reaches him in no time and crashes into him, narrowly avoiding knocking him off the barrel or spilling the wine all over their pale shirts. Yuji wraps Megumi up in an embrace, warm and all-encompassing and safe, and he feels like he might cry. “Megumi,” he murmurs into his hair. “Oh, thank god. I was so worried. Are you okay?”
To his credit, Megumi lets himself be engulfed in the hug, but both his hands are occupied, Yuji realises. With the glass in one hand, he holds up his phone in the other, open to the location tracker they share, and shakes it once. “Took you long enough,” he mumbles into the muscle of Yuji’s arm.
Yuji pulls back, and he only glimpses the screen before Megumi tucks the phone into his pocket. His gaze darts to his face in confusion.
Megumi reaches for something beside him on the ground, and his hand returns with another full glass of wine that he holds out to Yuji. “Here you go.”
The wedding ceremony carries on behind him, and the sun continues its descent. Back at the other hotel, everyone is worried sick, and Yuji’s heart still feels like it’s going to beat right out of his chest from the scare. He thought Megumi was in danger. He thought he wasn’t coming back. But here he is, as calm as he can be, watching someone else get married instead of doing it himself.
“You asshole,” Yuji says before he can stop himself. His jaw hangs open, and he steps back and studies Megumi up and down, still checking for signs of distress. “Have you seriously been sitting here just waiting for me to find you?”
Now, the slightest hints of guilt creep into the furrow of Megumi’s brows. He looks back out across the yard and takes a slow sip of his wine. “I knew you’d come after me. So.”
“Megumi,” Yuji says again. The name doesn’t tire out on his tongue. He crouches down in front of him and doesn’t care who sees them. “Honey, what’s going on? Can you talk to me?”
Megumi seems dazed, and he shakes his head and refuses to meet Yuji’s eyes. “I don’t know. I just couldn’t do it all of a sudden. It was the people. I don’t know.”
Yuji does his best to put the pieces together in his head, connecting one to the other and mapping out the story and what he knows of Megumi’s thoughts. He thinks he has a guess, and he swallows thickly and closes his eyes. He thinks of Gojo, and next of Tsumiki. “Listen, I know it’s odd to have… To be missing some people,” he finishes. “But—”
“It’s not that,” Megumi cuts in with a faint murmur, and he swirls his wine around in its glass with a practiced hand. He finally glances down at Yuji, then away again, at the grass. “It was the people who were there. I’m grateful for everyone coming out, but I didn’t want them to see us. I didn’t want my relationship to be on display for them like that.”
Slowly, Yuji tilts his head and blinks at him, and he eases himself out of the crouch and moves to sit on the barrel beside Megumi instead. “Is that… something you’ve felt before?”
He can’t say he understands, or that he isn’t annoyed now that he knows Megumi is, relatively speaking, all right. But he wants to try.
Megumi shakes his head again and sighs. “It had occurred to me,” he says, and he even sounds annoyed with himself, “but it didn’t really hit me until today. I had to tell Maki to leave me alone—I love her, but it was like she was breathing down my neck—and I couldn’t see you, and I just started thinking about how everyone was going to be there, and—” His words halt with a sharp intake of breath.
“Can we just watch someone else for a little while?” he asks, very softly, his voice near to breaking. “Can it not be about us for five minutes?”
Ever so cautiously, Yuji frowns and studies the side of Megumi’s face and glances out at the ceremony. “Just for five minutes?”
Megumi raises his glass like a toast towards the happy couple. “Just until this is over, at least.”
“Okay,” Yuji murmurs, and hopes Megumi doesn’t mean all he could mean. “Sure, Megumi, we can do that.”
Visibly, Megumi relaxes and settles his shoulders back. He looks at Yuji well and truly for the first time since Yuji arrived and holds the second glass out to him. “Are you gonna take this, or…?”
A half-chuckle, half-scoff squeezes itself out of Yuji’s throat. He takes the glass and takes a long sip to try to steady his nerves, wincing only slightly as the burn travels down his throat. Setting whatever’s going on between them aside, he lets himself focus on the ceremony in front of him.
They watch together in silence for a few minutes as the groom takes his place, and then everyone stands as the bride is led out from a side door of the hotel. Objectively speaking, the wedding is beautiful. The groom looks thrilled, maybe more so than he’s ever been in his life, his face alight as he watches his to-be wife stroll up the lawn. Rays of the setting sun reflect off the sequins sewn into her lacy floral dress. Her veil cascades down jet black hair, and Yuji catches a glimpse of her smile before she turns to walk down the aisle. No one pays them any mind, and he feels surprisingly grateful. Maybe Megumi was onto something.
The wine relaxes him slowly, a little at a time, and he lifts it in a similar fashion as Megumi did earlier. “That guy can’t be old enough to be her father,” he comments with a quirk of his mouth. “What do you think they are to each other?”
Megumi leans in to study the man holding the bride by the arm. “Maybe her brother,” he says. “They’ve kind of got the same shoulders.”
Yuji laughs and nods at him teasingly. “The same shoulders,” he echoes. “Sure. Maybe he’s just her gay best friend.” He drinks again and teases, “God, you really topped this thing off. Trying to get me drunk?”
Out of the corner of his eye, Megumi tosses him a steady, lighter look. “Might make it easier for you to forgive me.”
Though the world is fuzzier at the edges than it should be, and Yuji’s learning to be content just to have Megumi beside him, he still shoots him a sharp, worried look and bites his tongue on accident in surprise. “Megumi,” he breathes out, not exactly an admonishment, but close. “Of course I forgive you. If you’re not ready, you’re not ready.” He looks him up and down, taking in Megumi’s easy but slumped posture and the way the vein in his neck pulses as he swallows.
“Why wouldn’t I forgive you?” Yuji asks. It’s not really a question, and all Megumi answers with at first is a faint, unintelligible hum.
But the longer Yuji watches him, the more clear it is that Megumi is in distress. Yuji takes in the quiver of his jaw and the unsteadiness of his hand as he raises his glass to his lips and lowers it again without taking a drink. His expression twists, and he scrutinizes the wedding through sad, narrowed eyes.
“Whoa, hey.” Yuji’s on his feet and in front of him again, wine set down on the barrel behind him, before he can think. “Megumi, please talk to me. What is it?”
The uneasy beginnings of unshed tears build in Megumi’s eyes. His face falls even further, and he’s falling apart, Yuji can tell. Whatever act he convinced himself to put on frays now at the edges. “How can you forgive me?” he asks back, the barest whisper.
Yuji rocks back on his heels, shocked, and opens his mouth to respond. “Baby,” slips from his lips. It’s the only thing he can muster in the moment.
“I just don’t—” Megumi cuts himself off with a sniff and turns his head to the side. He lifts his hand to cover half his face and rub at his nose. His eyes are red-rimmed, his voice strained, but he doesn’t let any tears fall. Not yet. “I don’t know how I can be there for you when all I do is run away when I get scared.”
Yuji hears these words, and he closes his eyes, and his heart breaks. Everything settles into place with a dull click in the back of his mind. He holds his breath and thinks of how Megumi up and disappeared out of nowhere, but also how he went straight to a place Yuji knew to look for him and waited. Too scared to stay, he says, but too scared to go too far, either.
“Megumi,” he whispers. He eases forward and scoops up Megumi’s hand and cups his palm around his cheek and holds him so close, like he’s the most precious thing in the world. “Baby, look at me.”
With the fairy lights glistening above his head and the dusk reflected in his glossy eyes, Megumi does.
“It’s okay if you feel like running away,” Yuji says. “I don’t want you to think you’re doing something wrong, because you’re not. I can’t blame you for being scared of holding on after all we’ve been through. But I need you to know that I’m here for you, and I’m not going to leave you.”
“I’m sorry,” Megumi chokes out suddenly, and a sob wracks his body. He shakes in Yuji’s firm grip. Tears break from his eyes and roll down his cheeks in waves, until his skin is washed in crystal light. “I’m sorry I left.”
“It’s okay, Megumi, that’s what I’m trying to tell you,” Yuji murmurs, trying to soothe him the best he can. “You came back to me. I want to be with you so you always have me to come home to when you feel ready to come back.”
Megumi lilts forward and leans into him as he sobs as quietly as he can.
Yuji smooths a thumb under his eye, right along the scar, and reminds him, “You waited for me. You said you knew I’d come after you.”
“I wanted you to.” Megumi manages a small nod and swallows thickly. He sets the glass of wine on the ground beside him. Another sob wracks his frame, but it comes softer this time. “I just couldn’t do it then. But I could never leave you for good.” The tiniest half-smile, half-grimace graces his lips. “I was certain you’d remember us coming here.”
“You told me then,” Yuji agrees. “You said you wanted to get married here. We were here by accident though, weren’t we?”
Megumi nods more confidently now and lifts his free hand to place it on the back of Yuji’s head. He glances up and meets his eyes and breathes in deep and slow. “We just needed someplace to stay after a mission. We didn’t even realise it was our anniversary until we got inside and confirmed the date.”
A warm, relieved laugh flows from Yuji’s chest. “I remember,” he tells him. “I remember, Megumi.”
The sunlight fades, and the ceremony comes to a close in the near distance, and Megumi and Yuji sit together for a while with their foreheads pressed together, one of them on the barrel and the other with knees to the ground, and breathe in each other’s air. It’s only when Megumi turns his head and peers out at the yard that they break their hold on each other.
“Fireflies,” Megumi murmurs, so faint he might as well be talking in his sleep.
Yuji sniffs and blinks at him. “What?” He follows his gaze before he gets an answer, looking out across the yard. Then he catches his breath.
In front of them, around them, surrounding the wedding party, bathing the grass and the trees and the horizon, a hundred fireflies lift off the ground. They drift from here to there and blink in patterns incomprehensible to humans, but beautiful nonetheless. Their electric light competes with the candles and sets the whole place aglow.
“Fireflies,” Megumi repeats, shaking a little as he slings an arm over Yuji’s shoulders and draws him in to his chest, “can’t be photographed. It wouldn’t turn out, no matter how hard we try.”
He looks too introspective and out of it to be reaching for a serious thought, but there’s something behind his tired eyes that Yuji wants to scoop out and hold in his hands like tiny stars in the clearest water. He twists until he can view the ceremony, and catches sight of a photographer snapping away at the couple from a safe distance. Fireflies dance around them and settle near her dress, his shoes.
“So why are they trying?” Megumi asks the open air.
Yuji relaxes and tilts his head in to kiss Megumi’s cheek and the shell of his ear. “Because sometimes the things that don’t last are the most beautiful of all,” he says. “You can’t help but want to keep it. But… maybe it’s the fact that they don’t last that makes them beautiful.”
Megumi rests his head in the crook of Yuji’s neck and laughs. “I don’t know what you’re saying.” He takes in a deep, shuddering breath and pulls him in until Yuji can press soft, short-lived kisses to his throat and the fabric of his shirt.
“Me neither,” Yuji admits through a smile, “but I thought it sounded cool.”
They hold each other and wait as the cheering begins, and people throw flower petals as the groom leads the bride back down the aisle, their faces alight with excitement and the flickering messages of insects. Slowly, the party eases apart, everyone heading inside or to the outdoor bar for cake and more drinks and music and dancing.
Sudden and firm, as the last of the guests trail inside the hotel for the evening’s reception, Megumi grips patches of Yuji’s shirt in both fists and sucks in a breath. He tugs Yuji back so he can face him, and his expression is more serious, more stone-cold and filled with longing at the same time, than it has been all night.
“Yuji,” Megumi says, a little loud, a little desperate, and overflowing with almost uncharacteristic adoration. “Will you marry me?”
A small portion of Yuji’s heart breaks off and goes dull, refusing to beat for just a few seconds. His face falls. “Megumi,” he says as gently as he can, “I asked you that already.” He leaves the unspoken words unspoken, the things they both know hanging in the quiet air between them.
But Megumi shakes his head and keeps their eyes locked together. “I know,” he says, his voice never wavering. “I know I missed it, and I messed up all our plans, and I’m sorry. But Yuji—I want you to marry me right now.”
Slowly, and all at once, the request clicks in Yuji’s mind. His heart beats strongly again. His ring is warm on his finger.
“Yes,” he breathes out in a rush, feeling dazed, and he unlatches himself from Megumi just enough to take his hand and guide him to stand. “Yes, let’s go. Come on.”
They hurry to catch the officiate of the previous ceremony, who’s still lingering in the yard as he chats with a few other stragglers. Yuji feels Megumi tense beside him, senses it through their hands interlocked, on their approach.
“What if he won’t do it?” Megumi asks quietly.
Yuji squeezes his hand to try to comfort him and keeps moving forward. “Just be confident. If he doesn’t want to marry us, that’s his problem. We can find another way.” Softer, more genuine, he turns to face his love and smiles. “We are stealing someone else’s officiate, anyway.”
Despite their worries, though, when they greet the officiate—a young man not much older than them—and explain their situation, that they just want something quick and official, he smiles warmly at them and agrees to help. The bridesmaid he was talking to and the person who must be her partner, both clearly tipsy and hanging off one another, laugh and cheer and tell Megumi and Yuji they’ll need witnesses, so they stick around, too.
Megumi still seems nervous as Yuji leads him by the hand to face him, but it’s remarkable how much more at ease he seems here in front of three strangers and Yuji alone than any of their closest friends. It pains Yuji, sends a pang through his heart, to realise he’d been so distracted by all the planning that he’d failed to see how tense Megumi had been.
Fireflies dance around them and amber creases the sky, and they walk through the familiar words together, the ones they’ve both practiced countless times. The officiate prompts each of them in turn, and Yuji relishes the taste of the words on his tongue.
“I, Yuji,” he murmurs softly, without taking his eyes off of Megumi’s for a second—he soaks in that glow of hope, of love, of anticipation—”take Megumi Fushiguro to be my husband, my partner for life, my home. I will cherish you today, tomorrow, and forever, trust and honor you, and laugh and cry with you, through the best and the worst.”
He takes a shaky breath, and he can’t help but reach up and brush his knuckles against Megumi’s cheek. The smile never leaves his face. “Megumi, come what may, I’ll always be here for you. I give you every part of me.”
The bridesmaid and her partner cheer as loudly as they dare, still sober enough to be respectful of the peace, and Yuji laughs despite himself as joy brims inside of him.
Megumi leans into Yuji’s open palm and closes his eyes, his brows knitted together, like he’s trying to calm himself, while he waits to repeat the same words. He takes deep breaths as the officiate speaks, then opens his eyes and meets Yuji’s again with newfound strength.
“I, Megumi, take Yuji Itadori to be my—husband—” Megumi cuts himself off with a shorter, involuntary gasp and covers his mouth with his hand, ducking away from Yuji’s touch, as tears well up in his eyes. “Sorry,” he whispers.
Yuji shakes his head and squeezes the hand he’s still holding. “It’s okay, Megumi, take your time.”
Their unanticipated witnesses murmur assent and encouragement, and Yuji casts them a grateful look.
With the heel of his palm, Megumi wipes away his tears, and his shoulders shake. He straightens and meets Yuji’s gaze one more time. “I take you, Yuji Itadori,” he starts again, “to be my husband, my partner for life, my home. I will cherish you today, tomorrow, and forever. I will trust and honor you, laugh and cry with you, through the best and the worst.”
He leans in close, until his breath tickles Yuji’s ear, and speaks for only him to hear, free hand coming to rest on his shoulder. “Yuji, come what may, I’ll always be here for you. All my life, my home has been chosen for me. But for once, I get to choose—and you are the home I choose.” Warmth spreads between them as he rests his chin on Yuji’s shoulder for the briefest moment. “I would choose you every time. Yuji, I give you every part of me.”
A sob builds in Yuji’s throat and wracks his body, and his arms come to wrap around Megumi, hands resting on his back. They hold each other close in lieu of the exchange of rings. They’ll collect them later, from Nobara and Maki—but for now, it’s just them, no formalities between them, no expectations but love. Yuji buries his nose in the fabric of Megumi’s button-down shirt and breathes in his scent and holds him.
When they pull apart, Yuji offers a short, emotional, but sure nod to the officiate, who smiles again in return.
The officiate recites a Buddhist prayer, fitting and far away, and then announces, “With the promise of love and care, of vulnerability and honesty, with the power vested in me, I now pronounce you spouses for life. You may kiss.”
Something breaks inside of Yuji, and he pitches himself forward and collides with Megumi in a rush of joy, and grief, and understanding, and years and years of walking side by side through thick and thin, and love. The fireflies surge around them. The strangers they’ve stumbled into cheer. Yuji hears none of it, sees nothing, but he tastes the world on his lips as he kisses Megumi, and kisses him, and kisses him. He wraps his arm around him and pulls him ever closer.
The universe unfolds around them, and the others drift away, their duties complete; presumably they rejoin the original party and carry on their way, and Yuji doesn’t care. He stands for forever and a day with Megumi out on that lawn, so long the sun sets over their heads.
Megumi tastes like gold. Like honey. In the minute after Yuji dips his tongue into his mouth to wash himself in that flavour, they manage to untangle themselves. Yuji leans forward into him and just breathes. He can feel Megumi shaking, but he feels so calm.
As tender and loving as he’s ever spoken, Yuji moves toward his ear and murmurs, “Did you book a room for the night?”
•••
Megumi is softer, calmer, and visibly more in love come morning. Yuji sees it in the way Megumi’s lips curl into a smile when he wakes up.
They make the drive back after breakfast, taking Nobara’s car together, figuring they can go back for theirs later but they should probably return hers. She’s going to be worried. So is Maki, and so are the others. Yuji reaches over at slow moments and stoplights to rest a hand on Megumi’s knee, to offer reassurance.
They stumble hand-in-hand back up to the first hotel and meander down the empty halls until they reach the girls’ room. Yuji raises a fist to knock on the door, but before he does so, he turns to Megumi and takes in a breath.
“Hey,” he murmurs, catching sight of Megumi’s slightly downturned gaze and the slump of his shoulders. Yuji leans forward and tilts his head so he can meet his eyes. “Megumi, look at me.”
With a pinched brow and quivering lip, Megumi does. Yuji shakes him lightly by the hand and attempts a smile. Megumi frowns just a little, but rolls his shoulders back at the same time, opening up like petals in a gentle rain. “What?”
“You know I love you, right?” Yuji says. He keeps his voice light, but genuine, and pours as much warmth as he can into those words, then jerks a shoulder towards the door. “And so do they.”
Megumi’s frown deepens. He glances away again and rubs the back of his hand over his nose. “I know,” he answers.
But Yuji doesn’t let go, doesn’t stop pushing. There will be so much more to get through in the days and years to come, but he can get them past this, at least; they can take the first step together. He shifts his hand to interwine his fingers with Megumi’s and holds both their hands up between them. “Megumi, what’s done is done,” he says, as carefully as he can. “Right now, we’re together, and that’s what matters, okay? We don’t have to worry about the rest right now.”
He watches a sharp, involuntary breath wrack through Megumi as he folds in a touch more again. But he closes his eyes and nods, then looks at Yuji squarely. “Okay.”
“Okay?” Yuji asks, and Megumi says again, “Okay, Yuji.”
Yuji laughs, and he moves to knock on the door.
It swings open to a tired Nobara, her hair tangled and frizzy, the circles under her eyes darker than they should be with the mascara she must not have washed off last night. She’s wearing one of Maki’s oversized t-shirts that hangs off her frame and accentuates her slump.
Yet, as soon as she sees Megumi, her eyes light up, and she launches herself forward to catch him in an embrace. She wraps her arms around him like it’s the last thing she’ll ever do; like if she holds him tight enough, he’ll stay. Then she reels back and grips him by the shoulders and demands, “Megumi Fushiguro, where the hell have you been?”
Yuji stifles a laugh, but Megumi isn’t so quick. He breaks into an unexpected smile, sunlit, golden, brighter than a hundred fireflies, and laughs wholeheartedly. “You won’t believe this,” he murmurs, and casts a warm, steady glance back at Yuji. “But…”
Behind that warmth, Yuji sees heartache. He sees pain. He sees remorse, and grief, and embarassment, and fifty other things he’s learned to pinpoint in the shade and swirl of Megumi’s eyes in the years they’ve known each other.
But right now, Megumi is laughing and smiling, and he turns back to Nobara with a sheepish look. “We got married.”