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“He’ll find out almost immediately! Itadori always finds out about stuff like this.”
“He won’t.”
“He literally will! It’s Itadori, Fushiguro.”
Megumi paused. She was right. Despite being probably the most oblivious person on the planet, Yuuji always managed to stumble onto secret plans. Last Christmas, he discovered Gojo had bought him new shoes when he found the box while searching for socks in Gojo’s room. He’d even put them on and asked Gojo if he liked them.
Gojo was not happy about it. He replaced the gift with a framed photo of himself—signed with his autograph and that stupid little face he drew on every letter.
Yuuji loved it anyway. Of course he did. If Megumi gave him a rotted piece of grass, he’d probably treasure it until his death.
He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Then we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t have time to snoop.”
Nobara crossed her arms. “You mean you’ll make sure he doesn’t have time to snoop.”
He frowned. “Why me?”
“Because he actually listens to you. If I tell him to stay put, he’ll follow me around asking why. If you tell him, he’ll just do it. Like a golden retriever that only obeys one person.”
Megumi gave her a flat stare. “You realize how weird that sounds.”
“Then take your weird little dog on a walk, Fushiguro.”
He sighed, already regretting every choice that led him to this point. “Fine. But if he finds out, it’s on you.”
Nobara smirked, triumphant. “Deal. Now go make him fall in love with you or whatever.”
That made him stop mid-step. “What?”
“Nothing!” she sang, waving him off.
Megumi sighed again. Why did they even think throwing Yuuji a surprise birthday party was a good idea?
❀─────────────❀
He found Yuuji exactly where he expected—lying upside down on the common room couch with his legs hanging over the backrest and his phone hovering dangerously above his face.
“Fushiguro,” Yuji greeted, not looking up. “Do you think if I hold my phone like this long enough, I’ll get biceps?”
“No,” Megumi said flatly. “You’ll drop it on your face.”
Yuuji blinked at him, then immediately dropped it on his face. “Ow.”
“Get up. We’re going out.”
Yuuji perked up instantly, already halfway off the couch. “Oh? Where to?”
“Out.”
“That’s… not an answer.”
“It’s all you’re getting.”
Yuuji tilted his head, studying him with narrowed eyes. “You’re acting weird.”
“I’m always like this.”
“Yeah, but today it’s, like, extra weird. You’re doing the thing with your eyebrows.”
“What thing?”
“The little—” Yuuji furrowed his own brows, trying to imitate him, “—’I’m hiding something but pretending I’m not’ thing.”
“I don’t do that.”
“You’re doing it right now!”
“I’m not hiding anything,” Megumi lied, already feeling the panic Nobara predicted rising like bile. “Just—go change. We’re leaving in ten minutes.”
Yuuji narrowed his eyes but grinned anyway. “Fine, but if this turns out to be another Gojo prank where he’s secretly filming us for ‘training analysis,’ I’m fighting him.”
Megumi muttered, “You’ll have to get in line,” as Yuuji bounded off toward his room.
Left alone, Megumi pulled out his phone and texted Nobara.
Megumi: He’s already suspicious.
Nobara: Handle it. You’re his emotional support human.
Megumi: I hate you.
Nobara: 💕 have fun on your date 💕
Megumi stared at the screen, deleted his drafted reply about how this isn’t a date, and shoved the phone back in his pocket.
He could already feel the migraine building as Yuuji sped past him.
He didn’t even know why he’d agreed to this.
Actually, no. He did.
Because somehow, every time Yuuji Itadori smiled at him with those stupid bright eyes and asked for something, Megumi’s brain just… shut down.
He’d like to say it was because Yuuji was exhausting, or because it was easier to give in than argue, but the truth was worse. Much worse. The truth was that Yuuji could ask him to help bury a body and Megumi would probably sigh, roll his eyes, and ask what kind of shovel they needed.
He hated that.
He hated how soft Yuuji made him.
And Nobara knew it.
He could already imagine her smug grin, the way she’d say something infuriating like, ”Just admit you’ve got a crush on him and move on.”
It wasn’t a crush. It wasn’t anything. He was just… fond of him. The way you’re fond of a particularly reckless dog that keeps running into strangers’ gardens.
Megumi leaned against the doorframe and pinched the bridge of his nose, counting down the seconds before Yuuji inevitably came back wearing the most ridiculous outfit imaginable.
He didn’t even know where they were supposed to go. The first place that came to mind was a café, but he could already picture Yuuji’s face lighting up at the dessert display and that—
That was dangerous.
The problem with Yuuji wasn’t that he was unpredictable. It was that he was predictably kind. Predictably warm. Predictably capable of making Megumi’s carefully constructed emotional detachment crumble in about five seconds flat.
He was doomed.
He should text Nobara and tell her to cancel the whole thing. Or pretend Yuuji got sick. Or maybe fake his own death—
”Fushiguro!”
Megumi nearly jumped as Yuuji appeared in the doorway wearing a shirt with a cartoon dog on it and holding two lukewarm convenience store drinks that had most definitely been lying around his room for days. “I brought these for the trip! Where are we going?”
The smile. The shirt. The stupid drinks.
Yuuji Itadori was going to ruin his life.
❀─────────────❀
Their first stop was the road outside Jujutsu High.
”It’s so cute!!!” Yuuji practically shouted, pointing at the stray cat curled up on the sidewalk.
Megumi blinked. “That’s dirt.”
Yuji gasped. “No, look! It moved! Oh my god, it moved—hey, little guy!”
He crouched down immediately, trying to coax the cat closer with the world’s least convincing kissy noises. The cat stared at him for three seconds, hissed, and bolted into the bushes.
Yuuji looked genuinely heartbroken. “…Do you think it hates me?”
“Yes,” Megumi said without missing a beat. “Completely.”
He pouted. “You’re so mean.”
“You’re talking to dirt.”
“It was alive!”
Megumi sighed and shoved his hands in his pockets. “We’ve been out here for five minutes.”
“Five great minutes!” Yuuji grinned, walking backward to face him. “So where to next, Mr. Mysterious?”
Megumi wanted to say anywhere but here, but that would require admitting he had absolutely no plan. “...You’ll see,” he said instead, aiming for casual.
Yuuji’s grin widened. “Ooooh, it’s a surprise! You’re totally planning something, aren’t you? You’re acting all shady.”
“I always act like this.”
“Yeah, but this is like—level ten shady.”
Megumi bit the inside of his cheek. This was exactly what Nobara meant. He could already feel his patience dissolving under Yuuji’s sunshine grin.
And yet… he didn’t hate it.
That was the problem.
❀─────────────❀
They managed to reach their next stop without much hassle. The train ride to central Tokyo took no time at all, and after about half an hour they were standing outside a small convenience shop while Yuuji demolished a pack of crisps.
Megumi, meanwhile, was frantically looking up places to take him.
He’d made a list of things he thought Yuuji would like.
A movie store seemed promising—Yuuji liked films, especially western ones. A manga shop made the cut too, since Yuuji hoarded volumes like an addict. Maybe a cat cafe? He’d looked genuinely heartbroken when that mangy cat bolted from him earlier. That would make up for it, right?
The problem was, half of them didn’t open until noon, and the other half were thirty minutes apart in opposite directions.
Yuuji, completely unaware of Megumi’s logistical nightmare, was enthusiastically talking through a mouthful of crisps. “We should totally go to the arcade later! Or maybe that pancake place near Shibuya Station—you like pancakes, right? Oh, wait, do you like pancakes?”
Megumi didn’t answer immediately. He was busy zooming in on a map, silently cursing Google for not being faster. “…Sure,” he muttered.
Yuuji grinned. “Cool! Pancakes it is!”
“That’s not—” Megumi started, then gave up. “Fine. Pancakes.”
Yuuji beamed at him like he’d just won the lottery, and Megumi hated how warm his chest felt in response. He told himself it was just secondhand embarrassment. Definitely not something worse.
He looked back down at his phone. Movie store, manga store, cat café.
Maybe he’d save the cat café for last. Yuuji would probably get distracted by every animal in the building and they’d never leave.
He put his phone away before Yuuji noticed.
Just get through the day, he told himself. Keep him distracted, get him home by six, and no one explodes.
Easy.
❀─────────────❀
The movie store had been successful. Yuuji had spent thirty minutes trying to decide between five different DVDs they definitely didn’t need, and another ten convincing Megumi that they should have a weekly movie night.
Megumi pretended to be annoyed. He wasn’t. He loved watching Yuuji’s face light up when he talked about something he was passionate about, loved the way he got more animated with his hand gestures the more excited he became.
By the time they left the movie store, the sun had ducked behind the clouds. The air felt heavier, thick with humidity. Yuuji was already halfway down the street, talking about which movie they should start with, while Megumi followed behind with a small bag of DVDs tucked under his arm.
They were halfway to the manga store when it started to rain. Not a drizzle, not a sprinkle—just immediate, merciless downpour.
“SHIT!” Yuuji yelped, clutching his bag like it contained national secrets. “The DVDs! Fushiguro, they’ll drown!”
“They won’t drown,” Megumi said flatly, but he was already tugging Yuuji toward the nearest awning.
They ended up huddled under the narrow edge of a closed café, rain hammering the pavement hard enough to echo. Yuuji’s hair was plastered to his forehead, his shirt clinging to his arms, and Megumi tried not to look.
Tried to ignore how the wet fabric had gone nearly transparent, molding to Yuuji’s chest and shoulders in a way that made his brain short-circuit. He looked away quickly, pretending to watch the downpour.
Yuuji was still talking—something about drying the DVDs with a hairdryer—but his voice was half-swallowed by water hammering the ground. When Megumi didn’t respond, Yuuji leaned closer, trying to catch his eye.
“Hey,” he said, grinning through the rain. “You okay? You look like you just saw Gojo in speedos again.”
Megumi gave him a dead stare. “Don’t ever say that sentence again.”
Yuuji snorted, shaking his head like a dog and sending water droplets everywhere. One hit Megumi’s cheek, cold and sharp. He flinched.
“Hey, stop that—”
“Stop what?” Yuuji said, deliberately shaking his head again, grinning wide.
“Yuuji—”
Megumi shoved him lightly, but Yuuji only laughed harder, his shoulders shaking. For a second, everything else faded—the storm, the weird tension in his chest, the way his heart had been sprinting since Yuuji’s shirt got soaked.
Then thunder cracked overhead, so loud it rattled the awning. Yuuji jumped, instinctively pressing closer. Close enough that Megumi could smell his shampoo, something faintly citrusy cutting through the rain.
“Holy shit,” Yuuji muttered, voice muffled against Megumi’s shoulder. “That was right on top of us.”
Megumi’s pulse spiked. “It’s fine,” he said quietly, though his throat felt dry. “It’s just thunder.”
Yuuji didn’t move away. He stayed pressed against him, warmth seeping through wet clothes. “Still,” he said. “Kinda scary.”
He hesitated, then very carefully lifted a hand and rested it on Yuuji’s arm. “Don’t be an idiot,” he murmured.
Yuuji looked up at him then—smiling, but softer now, eyes warm and bright even under the grey sky. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”
Another rumble of thunder. Megumi didn’t move his hand. Neither did Yuuji.
The rain didn’t let up. If anything, it got worse—sheets of water cascading off the awning, soaking their shoes and splattering their trousers. But neither of them moved. Yuuji just kept watching him, that infuriatingly open expression on his face like he didn’t even notice how close they were standing.
Megumi could feel his heartbeat in his fingertips. Too fast, too loud. He pulled his hand back like it burned. “We should… wait it out,” he muttered, clearing his throat. “It’ll stop soon.”
Yuuji tilted his head, still smiling. “You sure? Looks like it’s settling in for the long haul.”
He didn’t answer. He didn’t trust himself to.
They stood in silence for a while, listening to the rain crash against the street. Then Yuuji laughed softly, shaking his head. “Man. This is kind of nice though, huh?”
“…Nice?”
“Yeah.” He gestured vaguely at the storm. “Just—y’know. The sound. The air. Being stuck out here with you.”
Before he could think about it, Megumi reached out. His fingers brushed Yuuji’s temple, pushing the wet strands away from his face. The touch was clumsy, hesitant, but he didn’t pull back right away.
Yuuji froze. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly, and for a split second, neither of them moved. The rain kept falling, a constant hum around them, but everything else—every sound, every thought—just stopped.
Megumi realized what he was doing a second too late. He dropped his hand, eyes darting anywhere but Yuuji’s face. “Your hair was in your eyes,” he muttered, tone clipped, defensive.
Yuuji blinked at him, and then he smiled. Soft. Stupidly warm. “Thanks.”
Megumi’s ears burned. “Whatever.”
Yuuji didn’t tease him. Didn’t say anything at all. “You’re ridiculous,” Megumi said finally.
“Maybe,” Yuuji said, smiling again, “but you like me anyway.”
Megumi scoffed. “Debatable.”
“Liar.”
Yuuji bumped his shoulder lightly, and it should’ve been harmless—playful—but Megumi’s pulse spiked anyway.
“C’mon,” Yuuji said suddenly. “There’s a diner like two blocks down. If we sprint, we can make it without drowning.”
“Yuuji, it’s pouring—”
“Exactly!” He grinned, grabbing Megumi’s wrist before he could protest. “Live a little, Fushiguro!”
“Wait—Yuuji—!”
Too late. Yuuji was already dragging him out into the rain, laughing like a maniac, splashing through puddles like a kid. The streetlights blurred through the water, and Megumi, despite himself, started laughing too.
By the time they stumbled into the diner, dripping and breathless, cheeks aching from shared laughter, Yuuji’s hair was plastered flat, and Megumi’s hoodie weighed about ten kilos. The hostess just stared at them like they’d both lost their minds.
“Table for two?” Yuuji said cheerfully, water dripping off his chin.
Megumi groaned, burying his face in his hands. “I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Yuuji said, still grinning. “You just haven’t had pancakes yet.”
Megumi sighed. “You’re unbelievable.”
But when Yuuji handed him a menu, Megumi couldn’t bring himself to disagree.
❀─────────────❀
They stayed at that diner for two hours.
Megumi hadn’t really planned it, but being with Yuuji felt so easy—so calm and relaxing that he hadn’t even realized how much time had passed. He was supposed to have Yuuji home by 6, and it was already 4.
He kept thinking of things they could do, of places they could go. Ways to stretch this out just a little longer.
Megumi didn’t want this to end. Didn’t want to stop spending time with Yuuji, didn’t want Yuuji’s attention on anyone else.
He didn’t know when it had started, this quiet, gnawing need to keep Yuuji close, but he could feel it now, sitting like a weight in his chest.
Yuuji was laughing at something, fork halfway to his mouth, eyes bright and alive in the soft amber light of the diner. He looked perfectly at ease, leaning back in the booth, crumbs on his cheek and syrup smudged on his knuckles.
Megumi wanted to wipe it away. He didn’t.
Instead, he sat there, listening to Yuuji talk about the new manga release they hadn’t gotten to yet, nodding at the right times, memorizing the curve of his smile. Every second felt sharper, heavier, like nothing else mattered as long as this moment kept going.
He wasn’t supposed to want this.
It was supposed to be a normal day out.
Distract Yuuji. Keep him safe. Get him home by six. Easy.
So why did the thought of six o’clock feel like a countdown he didn’t want to reach?
“Hey.” Yuuji’s voice broke through his thoughts, softer now. “You’re zoning out again.”
Megumi blinked, sitting up straighter. “I’m not.”
Yuuji smiled. “You are. I told you, you do this thing with your eyebrows.”
“Stop watching my eyebrows.”
Yuuji grinned wider. “Can’t help it. They’re very expressive.”
Megumi groaned, leaning back in the booth to hide the heat crawling up his neck. “You’re unbearable.”
“And yet,” Yuuji said, reaching across the table to steal a piece of Megumi’s pancake, “you’re still here.”
Megumi wanted to come up with something sharp, some deflection that would make Yuuji laugh again, but all that came out was a quiet, almost involuntary, “…Yeah.”
Yuuji looked up at him then, surprise flickering across his face for just a second before his smile softened.
He finished his pancakes quickly after that and bounced up from the booth, practically vibrating with energy.
“Okay,” he said, slapping his hands on the table. “Next stop—the arcade!”
Megumi blinked. “What?”
“The arcade!” Yuuji repeated, eyes bright. “It’s right across the street! They’ve got claw machines, racing games, and this dance thing Gojo kicked my ass at last time—come on, Fushiguro, you have to play it with me.”
Megumi sighed, but there was no real bite to it. “You’re impossible.”
Ten minutes later, he found himself standing under a mess of flashing neon lights and tinny music, surrounded by the smell of popcorn and machines chirping bonus round! every few seconds.
Yuuji, of course, was in heaven.
He darted from game to game, trying to decide where to start, and Megumi trailed behind him like some reluctant babysitter. When Yuuji finally stopped in front of a claw machine stuffed with ridiculous plush toys, he turned around with that dangerous grin Megumi knew too well.
“Bet I can win one before you.”
“You can’t even aim properly.”
“Yeah I can!”
“You can’t.”
Challenge accepted.
Five minutes later, Yuuji was kneeling in front of the machine, forehead pressed to the glass, muttering strategies under his breath while Megumi quietly dropped another coin into a neighboring machine.
Two tries. That’s all it took.
The claw descended, grabbed a large pink shark plush, and dropped it neatly into the chute. He bent down, picked it up, and held it out without ceremony. “Here.”
Yuuji blinked at him, then broke into a wide grin. “Wait, seriously? You won one? For me?”
“It’s not a big deal,” Megumi muttered.
“It is!” Yuuji’s grin somehow got even bigger. He hugged the plush like it was made of gold. “Oh my god, I’m gonna name him Sharky. Sharky Fushiguro.”
Megumi’s face must have looked horrified. “Absolutely not.”
“Too late,” Yuuji said. “He’s our son now.”
Our. Megumi chose to ignore that word, chose to ignore the flutter in his chest as it echoed through his head. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I hate you.”
“Fushiguro! We have to do this one!” Yuuji said, slapping his hand against the flashing screen of a dance battle game. “Loser buys snacks!”
“I’m not doing that,” Megumi said flatly, watching the animated mascots spin and wink on the screen.
Yuuji gasped, hand to his chest. “What happened to ’live a little’? You said that earlier!”
“I didn’t.”
“You implied it,” Yuuji insisted, already swiping his card through the reader. The lights exploded to life, bathing Megumi’s face in a mess of neon chaos.
Yuuji stepped onto the platform, cracking his knuckles like he was about to fight for his life. “You’re going down.”
Megumi raised an eyebrow. “You’ve played this before.”
“Exactly,” Yuuji said, grinning. “I’m gonna be amazing.”
He wasn’t.
The music started and Yuuji immediately missed half the arrows, limbs flailing in every direction. Megumi stood beside him for a solid ten seconds before sighing, stepping onto his own pad, and quietly syncing up to the beat with near-perfect timing.
By the end of the round, Megumi’s score towered over Yuuji’s.
“What the—how—” Yuuji sputtered, staring at the screen. “You said you don’t play this!”
“I don’t.”
“Then how did you win?”
Megumi shrugged, wiping his hands on his hoodie pocket. “Rhythm isn’t that hard.”
“Unbelievable.” Yuuji threw his hands up, laughing. “You’re some kind of freak of nature, I swear—”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Oh, I’m being so dramatic.” Yuuji pointed at him. “Rematch. But something fair this time.”
”Something fair” ended up being air hockey.
It was worse.
Megumi demolished him again, staying completely calm the entire time while Yuuji’s trash talk grew increasingly desperate. When Megumi scored the final point, Yuuji groaned loud enough that people from the next table turned to look.
“You’re not human,” Yuuji said, dropping the mallet onto the table with exaggerated despair.
“Maybe you’re just bad.”
Yuuji squinted at him, then grinned slowly. “Oh, that’s how it’s gonna be, huh?”
Megumi immediately recognized the look in his eyes—mischief, pure and unfiltered—and took a step back. “Don’t you dare.”
Too late.
Yuuji lunged across the table, launching a plastic puck straight at him. Megumi dodged, barely, the puck clattering against the wall behind him. Yuuji burst out laughing, doubling over until he could barely stand.
“Fushiguro, your face—”
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t,” Yuuji said between laughs, wiping a tear from his eye. “You love my athletic spirit.”
Megumi groaned but didn’t argue.
They played until the arcade lights started dimming and the announcements warned closing time was near. Their pile of tickets was embarrassingly large, courtesy of Megumi’s quiet determination and Yuuji’s endless enthusiasm.
At the prize counter, Yuuji squinted at the shelves like he was making the most important decision of his life. “Okay. So. Giant stuffed bear or matching keychains?”
Megumi looked unimpressed. “You’re not getting the bear home without Gojo stealing it.”
“True,” Yuuji said, frowning. “Keychains it is, then.”
He picked out two simple ones—tiny acrylic charms shaped like koi fish. He held them out, one blue and one pink. “Here. You pick.”
Megumi hesitated, then took the blue one. “Why koi fish?”
Yuuji grinned. “They swim together so they don’t get lost.”
Megumi froze for half a second, pulse stuttering in his throat.
“…You’re ridiculous,” he muttered, pocketing the charm.
“You love me,” Yuuji sing-songed, already scanning the room for the exit. “OHHH—PHOTOBOOTH!”
Before Megumi could stop him, Yuuji grabbed his wrist and started dragging him toward a glittery pink booth tucked in the corner, decorated with hearts and sparkles and the words Sweet Memories across the top.
“Yuuji. No.”
“Yuuji, yes,” he said firmly, yanking open the curtain. “C’mon, this is essential. We need proof we actually had fun today!”
“C’mon, just one strip!” Yuuji pleaded, half-dragging Megumi by the wrist toward the photobooth. His eyes practically glowed. “We gotta commemorate our epic victory! You got me, like, five plushies. This is historic.”
“It’s really not,” Megumi muttered, but he didn’t pull away. Yuuji’s hand was warm.
The booth curtain rustled as Yuuji yanked it open and pulled him inside. It was smaller than Megumi expected, and the second the curtain fell shut behind them, the outside noise dulled to a hum. Yuuji dropped onto the tiny bench, grinning, and patted the seat beside him.
Megumi hesitated. Then sighed. Then sat.
The screen flickered to life, displaying their reflections with an obnoxiously pink border. “Choose your background!” it chirped in an overly cheerful voice.
“Oh my god, we can have sparkles,” Yuuji said, scrolling through the filters. “Or fire. Or hearts—wait, bunnies!”
“No hearts,” Megumi said immediately.
Yuuji gasped. “What do you have against hearts?”
Megumi gave him a flat look. “Everything.”
“Okay, okay, no hearts. Bunnies it is.” He hit the button just as the countdown started.
“Three!”
Megumi barely had time to adjust before Yuuji threw up peace signs on either side of his face, grinning like a maniac.
“Two!”
Yuuji stuck his tongue out.
“One!”
Megumi didn’t do anything. The first flash went off.
Yuuji turned to him immediately. “Bro, pose!”
“I don’t pose.”
“Then look cool!”
“That’s not—”
The second flash caught him mid-protest, eyebrows furrowed, lips parted. Beside him, Yuuji was laughing.
The third came when Yuuji slung an arm over his shoulder, pressing closer until their cheeks brushed. “Smile, Fushiguro!”
Megumi’s chest tightened. The flash went off again.
The last one had a longer pause before it. Yuuji looked at him, still smiling, but softer now. “Okay,” he said quietly. “One more.”
They both leaned in this time. Megumi could feel the warmth of him, the faint smell of sugar and rain still clinging to his clothes, and when Yuuji turned slightly, their noses brushed.
The flash went off between them.
Neither moved.
Yuuji’s breath hitched, soft, startled, and Megumi felt it fan against his skin. His pulse roared in his ears, too loud, too fast. Yuuji was right there, so close he could see a droplet of sweat clinging to his lashes, could count the freckles scattered across his cheek, could trace the detail of his small scars.
His gaze flicked down to Yuuji’s mouth. He didn’t mean to. His body moved before his brain could stop it.
Yuuji noticed. Of course he did.
He froze, but he didn’t pull back. His eyes dropped to Megumi’s lips in turn, lingering there, hesitant. The air in the booth grew thick, heavy, charged.
Megumi’s hand twitched where it rested beside Yuuji’s, fingers brushing his knuckles. His chest felt tight. He could feel every inch of space between them, could feel the gravity of it narrowing, pulling them closer—
whrrr-click!
The printer beside them groaned to life. The sudden noise shattered the silence like glass.
Yuuji jerked back with a startled laugh, eyes wide. “O-oh! Guess it’s done already!”
Megumi blinked, trying to remember how to breathe. His heart was still hammering, his hands unsteady. “Right,” he muttered, voice rougher than he meant it. “The photos.”
Yuuji leaned forward, fumbling for the strip as it printed, his grin too quick, too bright. “Man, these came out fast, huh?” he said, as if talking could erase the silence that had just swallowed them whole.
Megumi didn’t answer. He couldn’t. He just stared down at their joined reflection in the glossy metal edge of the printer—two flushed faces, too close for comfort—and wondered if Yuuji could hear how fast his heart was beating.
❀─────────────❀
”HAPPY BIRTHDAY YUUJIIIIII!!!”
The shouts hit him like a tidal wave. Gojo stood front and center, shades perched on his nose, his grin impossibly wide. Nanami held a small but perfectly wrapped gift, looking slightly exasperated as usual. Nobara practically vibrated with excitement, Maki glared at Gojo, Panda waved both arms like a deranged mascot, and Inumaki… well, he said exactly what he always said: ”Salmon!” with a subtle but approving nod.
Yuuji froze in the doorway, eyes wide, mouth hanging open. “Wait—what—how—?!”
Megumi pinched the bridge of his nose, silently pleading for this chaos to be survivable. “Don’t move. Just—just let them yell.”
“YUUJIIIIII!” Nobara shrieked again, barreling forward to wrap him in a hug before he could even blink. “Surprise!”
Yuuji staggered back, laughing through the chaos. “No way! You guys—this is insane!”
“Of course it’s insane,” Gojo said, flipping a streamer over his shoulder. “It’s my level of insane. You should be honored.”
Megumi muttered under his breath, “…We’re all going to die.”
Yuuji barely noticed, bouncing from one friend to another like a pinball. He accepted Nanami’s gift with a grin that could melt glaciers, teased Maki for her “too-cool-to-care” birthday scowl, high-fived Panda, and even managed a small bow to Inumaki that made him nod in satisfaction.
Megumi hung back, soggy and exhausted. But when Yuuji’s gaze finally found him across the room, his chest tightened. Yuuji’s grin softened, and he waved a hand, beckoning him closer.
Megumi groaned, but deep down, as he glanced around at everyone gathered, the room bursting with laughter, bright colors, and the faint smell of birthday cake, he felt something warm and heavy settle in his chest. Yuuji was happy. And somehow, that made the ridiculous, chaotic day worth every migraine and soggy step.
“Alright,” Nobara announced, clapping her hands. “Cake time. And Megumi,” she added pointedly, “don’t even think about running away.”
Megumi sighed, sliding into the crowd reluctantly. Yuuji appeared at his side, whispering, “Thanks for today.”
He froze, pulse spiking. “It’s—nothing,” he muttered.
Yuuji just grinned, the kind of grin that made all the rain, all the chaos, all the embarrassment melt away. “It’s everything, Fushiguro. You’re everything.”
Megumi nearly choked on air. Before he could respond, Nobara grabbed him by the arm and dragged him toward the cake. Panda followed, Gojo was already snapping photos, and Yuuji bounced like a hyperactive kid, pulling everyone into the impending sugar-fueled chaos.
And Megumi… well. He let himself get pulled along.
Because for once, in the middle of screaming, laughter, and birthday chaos, he didn’t hate it.
He’d go through all of this—every dramatic, chaotic birthday surprise—just to make Yuuji happy.