Archive of Our Own ^beta

It isn't possible to love and to part. You will wish that it was. You can transmute love, ignore it, muddle it, but you can never pull it out of you. I know by experience that the poets are right: love is eternal. - E. M. Forester, A Room with a View

The law of gravity applies to memories too. - Tomasz Jędrowski, Swimming in the Dark

November 11th, 2028: Two Days Before

Yuuji has always had a high tolerance for pain. Scraped up knees, blisters on his knuckles—hell, he once suffered a moderate concussion and a hairline fracture and smiled through it like it was nothing, even refused painkillers because he didn't see a point. Just a few minutes ago a needle pricked into his vein and took blood, and there’s no pain in him to prove it, no wince that he could force his body to make. The clinic is just like it’s advertised  in the infomercials, though they don’t highlight the dicey alleyways that surround it—it’s a shady business, after all. But the interior makes up for it, floors so white and shiny you could eat off of them, florescent lighting hovering above him bright enough for him to squint.

Before calling his name to take his vitals, he had sat in the waiting room for exactly 34 minutes, a middle aged woman opposite him with a child in her lap, an old man, maybe the same age as his gramps before he passed a few seats away from her, and a man not much older than Yuuji himself all wearing the same face, all bearing the same weight of utter despair. Yuuji wonders if he also looks the same way they do, wouldn’t be surprised if he did. After all, they’re all here for the same reason, no? All gathered here because of this so called despair within them that they cannot shake, that no amount of therapy could remedy. He would know, since he had to go through multiple rounds of psychological evaluations for this, had sat across and spilled his guts out to psychiatrists about this particular misery.

Heart rate, blood pressure, weight: all average. Physically, Yuuji is at his prime. “It really won’t hurt?” Yuuji asks, nonetheless.

The nurse looks at him plainly, pulling the pulse oximeter off of his finger, “The doctor can answer all of your questions when he sees you. We’ll call your name shortly.”

Back at the waiting room, the nurse calls for the mother who’s holding her child—he wonders who it could be she’s trying to erase. Is everyone here erasing a former lover? Yuuji would believe their clientele would probably be made up of heartbroken rejects such as himself. God, break-ups and divorces must be really great for business around here. How miserable is that?

Yuuji has passed every test and gone through every round of extensive screening: he’s here, nearing the final stretch. He wonders how many hours he has left of Megumi still vivid in his memory, so fresh he could be mistaken for being plucked right out of a tree. It’s been six months without him, since him, an entire six months of living, enduring, an existence so lackluster Yuuji can’t even bring himself to call it life. How can he, when Megumi had been his life? It’s his own fault really, he thinks, to have shaped so much of himself around knowing Megumi—a relationship he had been in for less than two years, but who could blame him? How often is it that you meet someone your own soul recognizes as their own?

He breathes, a memory flashes by, a very random one: Megumi's face, eyes closed and head resting on a pillow, so peaceful and angelic. It's maybe the second or third time Megumi had slept over—no, it's definitely the third time, Yuuji remembers now. He feels a bit creepy for just staring and theres coffee he could be making in the kitchen instead, iced Americano with the beans Yuuji knows Megumi likes, but he'd rather count Megumi's eyelashes. What if this is the only chance he gets? It's as if Megumi had felt him looking because he wakes out of nowhere, says quit staring but then cuddles into Yuuji further, head now on his chest. He breathes out, another memory flashes by, this time it's less random: Yuuji gets a paper cut wrapping a present for Nobara, and Megumi grabs his finger and kisses it, goes to grab a band-aid, much like the one on Yuuji's arm right now. In his mind's eye, these memories are brief, but what he feels from them, for them can stretch out for kilometers, create entire zip codes. He's mourning, he realizes. Much like the big, devastating moments Yuuji wants out of his mind, is paying to be surgically removed from this mind, these small, fragile memories will be erased, too. Yuuji clings onto the pain in his chest and decides that it’s worth it. What a fickle thing it is to have a memory. 

“Itadori Yuuji?” He hears, jolting him back to reality. “The doctor will see you now.” The nurse says, gesturing for him to follow. When he walks into the doctors office, the first thing he sees are his brain scans on the doctors monitor that is turned towards him.

“Take a seat, Itadori.”

The doctor talks him through it again—they’ve been through this a few times, at this point. For the most part, it all goes in one ear, out the other. “This is a fairly new technology, as you know. It’s still in the experimental stage, relatively speaking. You’re doing us a service here, kid! What a contribution it is that you are making.”

Yuuji shrugs, “Is it scheduled now?”

“We just need you to sign the final consent forms, that’s all. If there’s any more questions, now would be the best time to ask. Then we can get you into the schedule, early as possible.” Yuuji looks behind the doctor, sees the diplomas and certificates behind him.   

“How will it… feel, exactly? When the memories go?” Yuuji mumbles, looks down at his hands as he asks. Yuuji can admit to himself that he’s just stalling for time now.

“As you know, it differs from patient to patient, but most have described it as being in a dreamlike state, due to the memory extractions happening in your sleep. They will feel and look like dreams, sure, but you will be fully alert during them. Don’t sweat it, you’ll wake up to have forgotten it all! In a way, it will be like reliving the memories again before they’re permanently gone.”

Ah, Yuuji thinks, so I’ll get to see you again?

“As for the physical symptoms, you might experience cold sweats, rapid heart rate, headaches, nausea, dizziness… it’s all expected. You’ll lose your most recent memories of the person within the first 48 hours, approximately. The rest of the memories will depend on how long you’ve known the person, but it shouldn’t take more than a week, according to our data. Just make sure you take the sleep medication that we’ll prescribe, get a lot of rest.” The doctor’s words are so well rehearsed, they practically read like a script. Yuuji guesses it’s from just how often he’s had to repeat them, how many people have been in Yuuji’s shoes right now. How many memories and lives have been erased.

Yuuji nods absently. “And there’s no undoing it, is there?” His voice is so, so small.

“Not a chance, Itadori. The area we’re targeting in the hippocampus… it will no longer be able to connect any past information to this person at all. It will be as if they never existed. Any memory you have of this person will be gone, even if other people were part of the memory too, you see? By proxy, any people you have met through this person will be erased as well. It will be like they never happened. A blip in your timeline. This is a guarantee.” The doctors a real salesman, Yuuji thinks. He wonders what Megumi would have to say about him.

Yuuji closes his eyes for a second, remembers the smell of Megumi’s hair: his eucalyptus and citrusy shampoo that he spends too much money on, and how the scent lingers in his fingernails after a shower, stays on his pillowcase after he sleeps. He always liked having way too many pillows on their bed, only for half of them to end up on the floor come morning time because Yuuji moves around too much. You know you kick in your sleep, right? Megumi had said, the morning after the first time they shared a bed. Megumi always made their bed as soon as he was out of it, no matter how tired he was in the morning—a habit that imprinted onto Yuuji. When Yuuji makes his own bed now upon waking up, how will it feel to not think of Megumi the entire time? How it will feel to go on about his life without Megumi’s shadow lurking behind him, following his every step? Yuuji can’t decide which alternative is lonelier.

“I won’t even see him in my dreams anymore?” Yuuji doesn’t know why he can’t face his doctor, eyes glued down on his fidgeting fingers. His doctor must be used to seeing his patients like this, because he doesn’t comment on it.

“You might, but you will not know who he is. He might as well be the guy who bags your groceries. Just a face.” Yuuji huffs a sarcastic laugh at that because he actually does know the man who bags his groceries, even knows his son, and that he plays football. That had been an issue, no? Yuuji is too sociable, and according to Megumi, he couldn’t keep up with him. Since when did Yuuji ask to be kept up with? He never understood it.

“And for your benefit, we suggest you empty out any belongings you might have of this person. It’ll make the transition easier. Pictures, videos you might have on your phone… Again, it’s your choice whether to delete them. But we’ve found that our clients have a better success rate when they wipe the slate completely clean, you understand? Makes for less errors, less confusion.”

This is what prompts Yuuji to look up at his doctor. Six long months it’s been since he and Megumi broke up, yet his apartment is still encompassed by his presence, despite all efforts made by his friends to demegumi-fy it. Yuuji outright refuses to get rid of certain things: polaroids of them still stuck to his fridge with magnets Megumi bought him, the Everest of Kirby plushies Megumi has won for him at arcades and fairs, clothes he never bothered to claim again after everything. Not to mention all the photos and videos on his phone, that are most definitely in the thousands, often visited by Yuuji in the dead of night when he cannot sleep, which is most nights.

There's a particular video he always goes back to, one from last December: Megumi's holding the birthday cake Yuuji had spent around three hours baking for him, had bought expensive vanilla bean pods and premium amaou strawberries for it and insisted on Megumi not helping him with it, and Yuuji is telling Megumi to say cheese! and Megumi's all wait, it's a video? and then Yuuji laughs, sets his phone down, balanced on something or other with the camera still facing them and he feeds Megumi one of the strawberries, accidentally gets frosting on his nose. It's nothing special, the video is not even a minute long but it's them how Yuuji always wants to remember, the short period of domestic bliss that they shared where it felt impossible to picture a future without it—a love that knew no limits, at the time. 

“What… What happens if I don’t delete them?”

“Well, nothing would happen, per se. It just might confuse you, having a strangers photos. Again, it’s up to you, Itadori. We’ve had clients not delete them and tell us that they ended up deleting them later on because they had forgotten who the person was! So, in the end, it’s the same result, no?”

Yuuji just nods along, biting at his lip, not sure if he’s processing what’s being said to him. It all seems so… inconceivable, still. Not knowing Megumi? That would be like not knowing his own heart, or his own soul, better yet. Yuuji couldn’t fathom it; yet here he was, hanko seal in hand, ready to stamp his name onto the form that would certify it.

“And the…” Yuuji begins, gesturing towards his own temple.

“Ah, yes. The light ring. It will be on your temple, you have surely seen it by now. It’ll track the progress of your memory extractions, and it’s how we’ll be able to track your progress during your check ups afterwards. It will also serve as a reminder that you’ve gone through with the procedure, Itadori. You might struggle to remember that you were even here. Don’t let this alarm you, it’s normal to be confused and disoriented the first week. Don’t worry about that for now.”

Yuuji grazes the skin on his temple, imagines the light flickering from it. He has seen it, more times then he can count. Just on his way to the clinic today he spotted at least five people with a ring of blue light beaming from their temple. Seems everybody is trying to forget someone.

His stamp hovers over the consent form, the only thing separating him from an end to his anguish. Yuuji has always had a high tolerance for pain, so why can’t he stomach this? Why is the pain brought on by remembering Megumi so violent and visceral that it feels like it could clot blood? Yuuji thinks that he would rather peel at his skin till it bled, would choose a hundred stabs to the chest and a few punches to his face too, would even rather break a leg, or his whole body, than to feel what it feels to remember Megumi, to know that he’s lost him.

He recalls for a fleeting moment the very night he tries to block out of his memory the most: the night they ended things. Is it even considered night if it was three in the morning? Yuuji wishes he could call it a fight, because that would mean at least one of them had tried to fight for the other. Instead, it was tired, draining—a generator refusing to start, a shoe just waiting to drop. Megumi had said it himself: it was inevitable. They had already exhausted all their options, had reached the same dead-ends over and over again. To Yuuji, it was a failure. He had failed to keep Megumi, had failed to fix their relationship, to salvage it and bring it back to what it once was. To Megumi… Yuuji would not know, because they have not spoken since, but he imagines that it was freeing. He sees it, sees him, in his mind’s eye. He looks weary, like he wants out. In what used to be their shared apartment where the breakup had occurred, Yuuji sees Megumi’s back facing him, leaving. He knows he’s never coming back, knows chasing after him would make it worse. He lets him slip away.

With that memory in mind, his stamp meets paper and Yuuji’s name is on the form. Yuuji looks at his name and hardly recognizes it, looks at Megumi’s name next to his and thinks, soon I won’t recognize this either.

Itadori Yuuji to forget Fushiguro Megumi.

—

“They’ve scheduled it for this Thursday.” Yuuji kicks at his feet, looks at his untied shoelaces. Megumi used to always hound him about that, would even tie Yuuji’s shoelaces himself sometimes.

“They sure move quickly, don’t they?” Nobara replies, sliding the last gyoza towards Yuuji who pays it no mind, just continues to look down, frowning.

Nobara starts to say something, but Yuuji cuts her off, “Don’t ask me if I’m sure about this again, Nobara, please.” He pleads.

“Just because he did it doesn’t mean you have to as well.”

Yuuji looks up from the ground, but lets a few seconds pass before he says anything. It’s too difficult to meet her eyes right now. “That’s not why I’m doing it.”

“Oh, c’mon, Yuuji. You didn’t even consider this until you found out that he did it first!”

That’s not a lie. To erase Megumi from his memory…to keep on living without knowing of Megumi’s existence felt like a betrayal to his own soul. So, how could Megumi go through with it? Was Yuuji too bitter a memory that he had to be permanently erased? In all fairness, Yuuji was never supposed to find out, apparently. But they run in the same social circles and have too many mutual ties, the secret was bound to spill and reach Yuuji eventually. Besides, it’s not like Megumi could’ve hidden it from Yuuji: the temple light ring is clear indicator, and if Yuuji had run into Megumi by chance, he would’ve found out anyway, and who else would Megumi choose to erase but Yuuji?

“Isn’t that all the more reason to follow through with it then? Why should I be the one stuck with these memories?” Yuuji doesn’t know how he manages to speak these words without throwing up bile afterwards, the words like poison on his tongue.

“Well… someone should remember. Otherwise it would be like it never happened. Isn’t that what you said?” Nobara presses.

Yuuji knows he’s contradicting himself by choosing this, but hasn’t he been contradicting himself for months now? Wasn’t it a contradiction on every promise he’s whispered into Megumi’s ears to never let go, and he still managed to do it anyway? The truth is, Yuuji has given up, and wants to succumb to the sweet abyss of amnesia that Megumi had chosen to fall into, too. Yuuji couldn’t bear the weight of it anymore—the weight of him on his mind an entire mountain he’s suffocating under.

Yuuji shakes his head, a faint memory of Megumi passing by like a meteoroid in his mind: Megumi perched near the alleyway of where they lived together, looking down at the stray cat they’ve been feeding for the last few days. The cat hisses at him once, and then never again, and Megumi starts giving him treats, brings water for him as well. He kinda looks like you Yuuji had told Megumi at some point. Megumi frowned, small smile on his face, That's not possible, he’s a cat. Yuuji dramatically gasped, You’ve never seen a cat and thought it looked like me? Yuuji will occasionally see that cat these days, makes sure to feed him still. He hisses every time. Yuuji’s become a vault, he thinks. A vessel made to hold the memories of him and Megumi, no matter how mundane or silly, big or small. What’s he supposed to do with all of them, except replay them in his mind on an endless loop? He thought he could it, but he was proved wrong just by how inescapable Megumi is, how Yuuji sees him in everything and finds traces of him everywhere.

Yuuji fleetingly remembers a documentary he watched with Megumi—one about a plane crash, and they highlighted just how scattered the debris was, spread across oceans thousands of kilometers apart, how spaced out the timeline was of finding the wreckage, some parts being found years after the crash had occurred. Trying to get over Megumi has felt like that. He’s everywhere, and no matter how far and wide the search radius is, Yuuji will find parts of Megumi there, and he knows, as if told to him as a prophecy, that years will go by and Megumi will still be apart of him. He knows there is no getting over him. Yuuji will look at anything, and there will be something that binds it to Megumi, a familiar scent, a distant sound—he’s everywhere, and it’s a strangling to Yuuji’s throat that he cannot breathe through anymore. 

“I thought I could.” He mumbles lamely, a look of defeat on his face and a slump to this posture. Nobara sighs, tucks a lock of hair behind her ear—a nervous habit. Yuuji thinks about how she’s probably had this same conversation with Megumi before he underwent the procedure himself, how she had tried talking him out of it as well. No matter how often Yuuji tries asking about it, Nobara does not budge, won’t offer up any information, and just says that Megumi was inconsolable, and that she couldn’t get through to him. She had even considered resorting to her last option and seeking Yuuji’s help, to try and get him to talk Megumi out of it, but it was too late—Megumi had already gone through with it.

“You’re putting me in an awkward position, you know. Making me juggle you two.” She says, and it comes out more sad than it does snappish.

“I’m sorry.” He offers, though he has apologized far too many times now, it’s lost any real meaning, and even though Yuuji knows better, he still asks: “How is he?”

“You know I can’t answer that, Yuuji. It’s better for you if I don’t.”

Yuuji contemplates before he says, “It’s just… It might be the last time, you know? That I can ask about him.” His voice cracks, and an entire funeral forms at his words.

Nobara exhales, gives Yuuji a look he’s seen far too many times in the last few months: like she’s looking at a wounded deer. “He’s… fine. Busy. Mostly just working.”

“You see him often?” Yuuji sniffles, and it’s how he figures out that he’s been tearing up, does nothing to hold back the tear that falls from his eye.

“I try to.”

“Try to? You know how he gets, Nobara. You have to—“

“Yuuji. Calm down. I know how to be his friend. Don’t worry.”

That had also been a problem, the worrying. Like most things when it came to Megumi: Yuuji couldn’t help it. You look stressed, you sure you’re okay? I can help with you that, let me help you. Tell me what’s wrong—it was too much, too often, and Megumi had expressed that. Yuuji did try to back off a little, worry less, but who was he fooling? It’s six months later and Yuuji had learned nothing, still fretting over just the mere thought that Megumi needs help, needs something. At one point, he had hoped that something was him.

“When’s the last time you spoke?”

“Yesterday. He has a stupid family thing that he doesn’t want to go to alone, so he’s making me go with him.” Yuuji laughs sadly at that, thinks typical Megumi as he wipes away his tears with the napkin Nobara has offered him. Megumi always hated going to those gatherings, would force Yuuji to go with him with the promise of champagne and endless hors d’oeuvres. Yuuji would jokingly refuse and say maybe if you offered me a kiss, I would budge and Megumi would look at him with that oh so sweet look that was especially, indefinitely reserved just for Yuuji, like he was doing everything in his power to keep a straight face but would give up and smile anyways, and then he would say you get kisses from me for free, idiot. Those kisses were always the sweetest, the ones that Megumi would initiate.

“Is he eating well? Taking care of himself?” Yuuji wouldn’t even care if Nobara lied to him right now, just wants to hear her say yes, Megumi is doing perfectly well and fine without him, doing better, even. Maybe then all of this would have been worth it.

Perhaps Nobara senses it, because she takes Yuuji’s hand and says, voice soft and earnest, “Yes, Yuuji. He’s fine.”

“And if he’s not… Will you, you know, take care of him? He always ignores his headaches, and never wears a scarf when it’s cold out, and he also—“

Nobara cuts him off, offers him a sad smile, “I know, Yuuji. I know.”

Yuuji shifts uncomfortably in his seat, runs a hand through his hair and sighs, a sight for sore eyes. “What else is on your mind?” Nobara asks, taking notice. What isn’t? Yuuji wants to answer, but just sniffles, wipes away at the tears stained on his cheeks.   

“It’s nothing,” Yuuji mumbles, reluctant to say what he knows he should.

Nobara scoffs, “Yuuji, it’s clearly not nothing. Just tell me.”

“It’s just…” Yuuji starts, thinks about Megumi, ear muffs on under a winter sky, snowflakes melting on his nose. It’s weird how memories don’t seem to follow any identifiable system, Yuuji thinks. They just appear arbitrarily, materializing out of nothing. “If, by any chance, Megumi and I cross paths again after all this,” Yuuji sees Megumi’s in their kitchen, his silhouette shaped by the fridge light in front of him, Yuuji hugging his waist, kissing his shoulder, his neck, twirling him around to see his face, “Don’t let me know. Don’t tell me that I knew him, that we were together, and it destroyed us both.”

“Yuuji…”

“I know the chances of that happening are like, one in a million. It probably won’t, right? Tokyo’s a huge city. So you don’t need to worry. It’s just, you know, in case. I don’t want to know.”

November 13th, 2028: The Day Of

When Yuuji’s scrubbed down and prepped for the procedure, he’s counting every single breath he takes. Megumi was here, he thinks. Maybe not in the same room, or being operated on by the same doctor, but he had been in the same shoes, had gone through the same steps. Was Yuuji on his mind with every breath he took, the same way Megumi is on his? What memories were fleeting through his minds eye, and how did Yuuji look in them? How did he remember Yuuji before he was wiped clean from his mind? Did he think about their happiest moments, or their worst? For Yuuji, the memories play out all at once, yet not enough at the same time. I didn’t have enough time with you, he thinks.

Yuuji’s awake during it all, and feels nothing but mild discomfort. He sees Megumi’s smile, a rare sight at first but soon became a constant in Yuuji’s life. Megumi’s eyes, that Yuuji swears he’s never seen the color of on anybody else, and how Megumi’s ears would turn red whenever Yuuji would compliment them. He thinks about Megumi all the way down to his bones, his organs, his blood, his soul. To know someone so intimately as to know the shape of their soul, to be able to map it out like it was his own—Yuuji tries to scratch it into the palm of his hands with his thumb, as if that will do him any good. I’m the only one to have known this, Yuuji thinks. And he’ll be the one to forget it.

When it’s over, and he’s standing on his own two feet again, he’s suddenly on the train and then in his bed in what feels like seconds, but was most definitely hours. His doctor had explained the lapses in time and memory, and how everything will feel and move much, much too fast, that it will all feel like a big blur. He’s disorientated, head pounding and mouth so dry he thinks he’s been thirsty his whole life. He lifts his hand to his temple, feels the light ring, and can see it flickering from his peripheral vision. That’ll take some getting used to. His ears are ringing and his body jerks like he’s about to fall, wants to get up and move but everything in his body wills him down to his bed, forcing him into a restless, fitful sleep.

There’s Megumi, in his dream. Except it’s not a dream, not really: it’s a reenactment. An exact replica of their last meeting, their final goodbye, so real in his mind. It’s like Yuuji’s there again, and maybe he is, but just watching from afar, an audience to his own memories, and he’s paralyzed in his seat, forced to watch.

Their shared apartment had never felt so hollow, and it’s what Yuuji remembers the most. How empty it was, entire oceans between him and his partner who was only a few meters away. Megumi’s standing, facing him, says the words Yuuji replays in his mind too often, now sounding like a script.

“If we keep going on like this, Yuuji…” Megumi starts, and in a way, also ends. He’s like Yuuji remembers: looks tired, more than usual. He doesn’t sleep anymore, had started smoking again.

“If we go on like this, what? What will happen? You should have the guts to tell me.” Yuuji says, follows the script. He’s angry, and desperate, but his energy is not reciprocated.

“It will just get worse. There’s no point to it anymore.”

“No point to us, you mean?” Yuuji fights back, tries to get Megumi to admit to it for once instead of dancing around it.

“If that’s what you want me to say, then yes. No point to us. Fuck, Yuuji, when’s the last time it didn’t feel so…”

“So what?”

“Forced.” Megumi exhales, runs a hand through his hair, like he’s antsy to leave.

“Stop, don’t say that. You don’t mean that.”

“You said it yourself. That you have to deal with me.” Megumi shoots back, and Yuuji can hear and feel the hurt in his voice, the slight tremble.

“That’s not what I meant!”

Yuuji expects Megumi to fight back with a well, what did you mean? which would have put them back in the same cycle of endless arguments they’ve been having for the last few weeks, but the question never comes. It’s just another sigh that escapes Megumi’s lips, his body fatigued and eyes drained.

“It doesn’t matter anymore.”

“It does matter, Megumi. If we just—” Yuuji takes a few steps forward, and Megumi takes one step back, shaking his head, “Don’t start this again.”

“So, what, you’re giving up on this now?” Yuuji gestures to whatever is left between them.

“It’s only logical, Yuuji.”

“What is?” Yuuji tries, a useless question because he knows. Everything’s distorted, skewed, Yuuji watching it all unfold through a glass window one gust of wind away from shattering. Don’t let him leave, Yuuji thinks, watching it happen.

“That we put ourselves out of this misery.”

And then it’s Megumi’s back towards him, the sound of the door opening and closing, the whirring of the fan, Yuuji cemented in place. He can’t change what’s already been written.

When Yuuji wakes up, it’s 3:12 in the afternoon, and he has too many missed calls to check and messages to read through with the throbbing pain in his head and the nausea in the back of his throat. His sheets are drenched in sweat and pillows dampened by his own tears. Megumi, Megumi, Megumi. He had been here, no? Had made plans to speak to him about something important, except he’s pretty sure that was in May, and his phone reads November, and he’s reaching out to the spot next to him in bed but it’s vacant.

There’s no sound coming from the bathroom, none from the kitchen or living room either, but he tries nonetheless: “Megumi, you there?” His voice is hoarse and squeaky, almost unrecognizable.

He tries to stand and can hardly take the vertigo, everything around him tilted off it’s axis and Yuuji can’t retrace his steps at all, doesn’t even remember falling asleep, and just when he feels like he cannot breath anymore, thinks he might actually throw up, he hears his phone ring. Yuuji answers it with shaking hands without checking the caller ID, vision too blurry to even try. “Megumi?”

“Yuuji, no. It’s—it’s Nobara.” There’s something in her voice Yuuji cannot place, a distance he cannot walk towards. Everything is fleeting, and why does Yuuji feel like a fugitive running from something that he cannot see?

“Nobara. It’s— I—What’s happening?” He stumbles through his words, legs giving out and landing him on the floor, back leaning on his bed. Their bed, Yuuji corrects. Him and Megumi’s bed.

“I’m coming over in a bit, okay? Just hang tight. Don’t do anything stupid. Just take a few breaths, drink some water. It’s okay. Just wait for me.”

Before Yuuji can ask anything else, she hangs up on him, and he’s left looking at his phone, light from the screen straining his eyes. He opens his contacts, goes to his favorites, finger hovering over the familiar spot at the top, only to find nothing. Megumi’s name is not there. He goes through his recent calls, and they’ve all been cleared from his phone, no sign of Megumi either. He looks up to the bedside table near him, eyes looking for a framed photo that they do not find. He drops his phone and clenches his fists, his jaw: everything about him is wound tight and he cannot find his footing, body trembling and weak like he’s been cut open and losing blood.

Yuuji somehow props himself up on his feet, makes his way to his—their kitchen, looks for the familiar photos on the fridge, the polaroids, the film strips. He finds nothing, except a fragmented reflection of himself on the fridge, and the unforgiving blue light on his temple, flickering. “No,” he mumbles to himself, touching the light, “No, no, no,”

Just when it feels like the floor is about to swallow him whole, he hears the keypad buttons of his door being pressed, and then footsteps coming towards him. “Shit, Yuuji,” Nobara says, reaching for his arms, rests her hand on his forehead like she’s checking for a fever. “It’s okay, it’s alright.”

Yuuji, far too gone in his state of panic to even breathe properly, hands trembling towards his temple says, “Where is he? W-what did I do? Don’t tell me that I…” trailing off because it would be a cardinal sin to name it, erasing Megumi so out of the question that he can’t bring himself to speak it.

“You did. It’s okay, Yuuji. It’s okay. It’ll pass.” Nobara says, and something about the look in her eyes, and how her hands are brushing at his arms makes it sound like she’s way too sure—like she’s been here before.

“Why did I… How could we?” Yuuji hopes that she will understand, is not even sure if he understands himself.

“You broke up, Yuuji. Six months ago.”

Yuuji gulps, and then his whole world shatters.

November 15th, 2028: Two Days After

The next day isn’t any easier, but it isn’t any worse. His symptoms are slightly better, alleviated by some prescription drugs to stop the vertigo and nausea. He has too many questions for Nobara, and yet not enough, and she is reluctant to answer most of them, but is still there to soothe and comfort Yuuji till he eventually stops crying, his body giving up the fight, too tired. He’s on bedrest for the rest of the day, spends it in and out of consciousness, memories being extracted out of him so violently and with such force, he can almost feel them slipping out from under his skin, being ripped out from his ribs, and the memories are so abundant, almost too many for Yuuji to handle. What a curse it feels now to have known someone so well.

He blinks, and suddenly he’s seated front and center at a reenactment of one of their bigger fights—Yuuji had said far too many things that he regretted saying, and he had always hoped Megumi regretted his words, too. The memory plays after the fights already been picked up, little fragments of it glitching in and out, everything jagged at the edges.

“I think we need to stop kidding ourselves,” Megumi had said, and Yuuji frowned, confused.

“About what?”

Megumi gestures towards the space between them, “This, us. We’re too different. It was inevitable that we would reach this point.”

“Since when was that ever an issue?”

“Hasn’t that always been the issue?”

Yuuji had snapped at that, got too fed up with Megumi speaking in context clues, circling around a subject instead of saying it upfront: “Jesus, Megumi, just spit it out!” Megumi had flinched at that, and it’s a sight that replayed in Yuuji’s mind far too often.

“This, what we have as we are, is not going to be enough for you. I can’t be more, I can’t give you more, and you’ll just—” Megumi stops, sighs and pinches his nose, frustration getting the better of him. Yuuji can hardly make out Megumi’s voice as he watches the memory unravel, like he’s trapped underwater.

“I’ll just what?” Yuuji tries.

“I don’t know, get bored. Isn’t that your way? It’s just how it’ll go. I can’t keep up with you, Yuuji.”

“Keep up? What does that even—I don’t need you to do or be anything, Megumi. That was never what I meant,” Yuuji, from the memory, says. Yuuji, watching the memory, cringes, wants to lunge forward and end it.

“Then what did you mean, huh? When you said this wasn’t enough?”

“I just meant that— God, I never meant that you weren’t enough, Megumi. I just wanted you to open up more, to talk to me more,” Yuuji tries to explain, has doubts in his head about if what he’s asking for is valid or not. “You don’t let me in, you ice me out, and I don’t like that.”

Megumi shakes his head, looks down, “I can’t help you with that. I’m not like that, I’m not like you.”

“I’m not asking you to be like me.”

“Aren’t you? Why can’t you just accept that I’m someone who doesn’t need to talk about my feelings all the goddamn time, Yuuji?”

“Well, if you don’t talk about your feelings ever, how am I supposed to know what you’re feeling? I can’t always keep guessing, Megumi. It’s not fair. You don’t need to tough it out all alone.”

“Tough what out alone? Jesus, Yuuji— I’m not a problem that you need to fix.”

“I never said that you were!"

“But you imply it. You act like it. And it’s— it’s overbearing, especially when I keep having to repeat myself. If I want to deal with shit on my own, then just let me.”

Yuuji knows how easy it would be to just say okay, fine, sure to his request, how fast the argument would end if Yuuji accepted the space that Megumi needed, but Yuuji can’t help the hurt that comes from hearing Megumi’s words—the panic he feels at being benched and cast aside. He’s fidgety, anxiety building in his chest because he doesn’t know how not to help, how to keep people in his life if he’s not always at their beck and call. If Yuuji is not helping, then what good is he? Besides, was it such a terrible ask for Yuuji to want Megumi to be more vulnerable with him?

When Yuuji doesn’t say anything, Megumi sighs, steps a bit closer, “You wanted me to say what was on my mind. This is how I feel.”

The memory glitches, the stream buffering and all Yuuji can hear are snippets forcing their way down his eardrums, and he can do nothing to stop it, can’t do anything to silence it.

“I don’t know how to be with someone like you.” Megumi had said at one point or another, a line that clearly stuck with Yuuji and grazed at his heart, and it bulldozes its way into Yuuji’s brain, and before he can do anything, before he can reach out and touch the memory with his hands, it’s gone, and another one plays, and then another—an endless montage edited and stitched together with just enough tape and glue for Yuuji to see them, but not enough for them to be salvaged.

They had been too different, Yuuji and Megumi. To most, they didn’t make any sense; two people that were meant to clash, colors that would never complement each other. That’s what Yuuji loved most about them, about him—we balance each other out, Yuuji would say. They brought each other to an equilibrium that came so naturally, woven together by what he could only describe as strings of fate, so delicate and fragile. Yuuji should’ve tended to those strings better, strengthened them more, built them a steadier foundation, but what use are his regrets now that the damage is already done?

What Yuuji sees next, strapped down in his own memories, an audience to his own agony, is his most recent birthday, two months before they had broken up. It had been made clear by the both of them at this point that they weren’t seeing each other enough: Megumi would come home and Yuuji would still not be there, his work schedule too sporadic and hectic, sometimes getting home past midnight, with Megumi already asleep in bed, or at least trying to. The more the days passed like this, the more common a sight it became for Yuuji to see Megumi smoking out on the balcony, a habit from before he and Yuuji even met. Megumi had stressed earlier, leaving no room for any errors: “Your birthday, you have to be home at 7pm sharp, got it?” while ruffling Yuuji’s hair, kissing his cheek.

Yuuji would’ve—should’ve—taken a vacation day, called in sick, but they were already understaffed at the fire station, everybody working well over their overtime, sleep-deprived and running on nothing but adrenaline and caffeine. What Yuuji is bearing witness to right now is him coming home at 11:30, instead of 7:00 like he had promised, already having messaged Megumi countless apologies and his late ETA, to which he received one reply: okay. get home safe.

It had been a stressful and taxing night, both physically and mentally, a fire breaking out in an office building with civilians trapped inside. There’s not much in the memory to see or hear just yet, but more so feel: the air in their apartment as asphyxiating as the fumes he had been consuming minutes prior, tension so thick and miserable, Yuuji riddled with an all-consuming guilt combined with exhaustion and sore muscles, and Megumi’s mood, both desolate and angry, but hardly showing it. All he had wanted in that moment was to be in bed, holding Megumi close to his chest, whiff of his shampoo in the air and to caress the softness of his skin, lulling him to a sleep he was aching for, but Yuuji knew he wouldn’t be getting that, wouldn’t be deserving of that.

He couldn’t even apologize properly, as Megumi was avoiding him, saying it’s fine and whatever, suit yourself when Yuuji says he’s going to shower. Yuuji opens the fridge to grab a water, sees his birthday cake in there. Opens the trashcan, sees his birthday decorations. Yuuji realizes suddenly, that at that moment, all he had wanted was for Megumi to yell at him. Show him that he’s angry, that he’s upset, point out that Yuuji had failed. Yuuji can deal with that, knows what to do with that. What he cannot stand is the silent treatment, the indifference and lack of emotion that he was getting.

“Can we at least talk about this?” Yuuji had said, sliding the balcony doors open to see Megumi there, back facing him, cigarette smoke surrounding him. He doesn’t look back.

“What’s there to talk about?”

“Don’t do that, Megumi. I fucked up. Tell me that I fucked up.”

Megumi scoffs, lets out a humorless laugh, “You need me to tell you that?”

“It’s better than saying nothing.” Yuuji’s tone carries a heaviness, like he’s been trying to stress this point for a while.

Megumi pauses, straightens his back. “You’re tired, no? Then go to bed.”

“Stop doing that. You’re mad at me, so be mad at me. Just fucking— yell at me or something. I can’t stand this,” Yuuji gestures to the lack of a fight between them, even though Megumi cannot see it.

Megumi takes another drag from his cigarette, “Is that supposed to make me feel better, or you?”

Yuuji reaches out for him, grabs his wrist to turn him around, “Fuck, Megumi, I don’t know, but if you won’t yell at me, then just look at me, at least. I’m sor—“

Megumi drops his cigarette, yanks Yuuji’s grip off of his wrist, “Don’t.”

And with that, Megumi leaves the balcony, the memory collapsing around him like a bomb had gone off, and Yuuji wakes up, sobbing and trembling like a leaf, smell of cigarette smoke still lingering around him. It’s become a routine now to instinctively reach for the other side of the bed only to be met with nothing, and then to grab his phone in search of a certain phone number that is nowhere to be found. He opens his phones photos, hopes to find something there, a certain someone there, and comes up empty. Yuuji, with all the might and energy he can muster, already so little to begin with right now, tries to cling onto the memories of him, now so sparse and transient, like trying to grip sand. What have I done? he thinks to himself with each passing second, what have we done to each other?

November 17th, 2028: Four Days After

Yuuji wakes up and repeats to himself: my name is Itadori Yuuji, born March 20th 2003, born and raised in Sendai. He can recall his address, the names of every teacher he’s ever had, can remember the black cat outside his apartment and the street food stands he passes by the most, so he’s definitely not amnesiac. What am I missing, then? Yuuji thinks, racking his brain for an answer as to why he feels more hollowed out every time he wakes, like someones been taking scoops out of him in chunks. He finds that answer every morning on his temple, reflection in his mirror showing puffy eyes and sunken in cheekbones. Ah, Yuuji thinks, grazing the blinking light, someones being erased. With every passing day, nailing down the who is the trickiest part, which must mean that it’s working, right? He’s at least getting his moneys worth.

Then he sees him in his mind, distorted, but definitely there: green eyes, black spiky hair going in all directions, slender fingers and a blushing face. Hears a quiet laugh, a whisper in his ears, feels a pulse that surely isn’t his own, smells mandarin peels on his fingernails and dog fur on his clothes. There you are. Fushiguro. Fushiguro Megumi. They had been something special, Yuuji knows this. He calls Nobara, his most recent calls filled with her name at the most irregular times, but mostly when he wakes.

“What was he to me?” Yuuji whispers, heart beating in his throat.

“You were together, Yuuji. He was your boyfriend.” Nobara answers.

“Do you know him?” Yuuji asks, hesitant.

Nobara takes a beat, sighs before she says, “I don’t.”

“He’s… he seemed nice.” Yuuji mumbles, chasing after memories in his brain that latch onto nothing. Megumi’s there, he sees him—but the more Yuuji tries to tunnel-vision onto him, tries to get closer, he turns into a shadow, atomizing into an intangible vestige. Yuuji feels warm in his chest, nonetheless. Feels something like love. Megumi had made him feel this way, once upon a time, Yuuji figures.

The memories that night come to him with the force of a bullet train, sparks on a train track and the clashing of metal filling his eardrums, and it’s all so fast, so fleeting. The memory refocuses, and it’s him and Megumi on the train, Megumi’s head on his shoulder, Yuuji’s thumb going over the others hand. Them, like this, huddled together, like they ought to be—it feels right, and it tugs at Yuuji’s heart. He wishes to never wake, wants to stay here and look at them from afar forever.

Yuuji, in the memory, lands his eyes on an old couple a few rows away. One of them is reading a book, the other is reminding them to take their meds, taking a pill box out. Yuuji nudges Megumi awake, gets him to open his eyes when he says, “Let’s be like them in the future.”

Megumi scrunches his nose and frowns, follows Yuuji’s eyes before he sleepily says, “What, old?”

Yuuji rolls his eyes then laughs. “Yes, old, but old and together.”

Megumi takes a second, yawns as he nuzzles his head into Yuuji. “What would we be like?”

Yuuji hums, considers it for a moment, but already has his answer prepared: “We’d, like, take water aerobics classes together. You would keep telling me you hate them, but I know you secretly love it because you get to see me in my very sexy speedo. And we’d play bingo, and you’d always win and they’ll accuse you of cheating, so I’ll get to defend your honor in front of everyone. We’d have a cat, maybe more than one, because we’ll keep collecting strays, and they’ll sleep on our bed. You’ll, like, hound me about my cholesterol levels and make me eat better. Maybe we’ll even go to the countryside and have our own farm—“

“You don’t wanna stay in the city?”

“We’d be rich enough to have a city place and a farmhouse, don’t worry. We have all your bingo prize money.”

Megumi laughs softly, “Right. What else would we do?”

“You would open a vet center there, tend to the farm animals around. We’d get into birdwatching, you especially, and you’ll teach me about all the birds we’ll see, point at them and tell me little facts about each one. You’ll tell our grandkids all about my heroic firefighter stories, because you know how to tell them better than me, and we’d show them all of our photo albums. Well, I don’t know about all of them. Some photos are just for us. Maybe we’d go to the beach more often like we always say we will, collect seashells and play chess. I’ll get you that telescope you’ve been wanting—”

“Yuuji, I already told you, we won’t get much use out of it."

“We will at our farm! We’ll see the stars better there, even meteor showers. And I know you’ll hate it but I’m gonna teach you how to fish. Teach a man to fish and you’ll feed him for a lifetime, right? It’s useful to learn.”

“You’ve given this a lot of thought.” Megumi says, lifting his head from Yuuji’s shoulder, facing him now.

Yuuji shrugs, feels a blush coming up on his cheeks, suddenly feeling shy. “I guess so.”

Megumi takes him in, in that quiet but obvious way of his, and then says, “We’d have some dogs too, not just cats. And we won’t have to worry about your cholesterol if you just started eating better now.”

Yuuji laughs, a small thing, puts his palm to Megumi’s face when he kisses his forehead, and then his nose. “Whatever you want, baby.”

The memory escapes him and his mind moves onto the next, and the next, and the next, and Yuuji sees what must have been a thousand kisses, hugs, laughs—despite the motion and how overwhelming it all feels, he focuses on Megumi, takes him in, one memory at a time. He's beautiful, Yuuji had always thought so. How embarrassed he'd get every time Yuuji pointed it out, which was a lot, and how red he'd get from his ears all the way down to his chest. So, so pretty, my Megumi, Yuuji would whisper into his ear, knows all the words that get Megumi blushing every single time no matter how often he hears them.

Will someone else do that now? Has someone else already done that, and will they know how to make Megumi feel good the way Yuuji knows how, will they fall in love with him just the same? It's an ugly, selfish feeling Yuuji has—he knows he can be a bit possessive, wants Megumi all to himself. Thinking of someone else being Megumi's had made him recoil, the thought of it so nauseating and wrong, but that was then, and this is now. He can't be selfish anymore, can't wish that on Megumi. Someone else will have that future with him, will build an entire life with Megumi that Yuuji will never get to see. Someone else will see that unruly black hair go white, feel those soft hands of his wrinkle with age. As for the future Yuuji and Megumi so naively imagined together, it will only be remembered by the train that housed it, or any stranger who happened to inadvertently hear it. Beyond that, it's nothing. 

November 18th, 2028: Five Days After

It’s one of their best dates, Yuuji knows this, when the memory replays. Megumi had just moved into Yuuji’s apartment: it’s a one-bedroom that can only be described as a shoebox but Megumi reassures that its cozy, and that he feels at home here. They’ve abandoned the Ikea shelf they’re supposed to be building and are crosslegged on the floor, going through boxes of Megumi’s things, settling on one thats holding all of his childhood photos. Each photo album is littered with stickers and glitter, “Gojo’s doing?” Yuuji had asked, to which Megumi rolled his eyes and nodded.

Yuuji fixes his eyes on a photo of Megumi, Tsumiki, and Gojo on a rollercoaster, Disneyland logo in the corner. Megumi must’ve been around ten years old, but his expression is that of an elderly man: serious and stern, while Tsumiki is grinning wide and Gojo’s mouth is open in a scream with his arms held high. “Ah, space mountain. Jeez, Gojo would make us go on that one like, three times in a row.” Megumi says.

When Megumi finds out that Yuuji had never been to Disneyland, he gasps like he had seen a ghost. “Never really got the chance,” Yuuji had said, shrugging, “I didn’t take you for someone who cared about Disneyland, Megumi.”

“I don’t, really. Gojo used to take us a lot when we were kids, Tsumiki and I. Would get us fast-passes and force us on all the rides and feed us like, five churros each. I nearly threw up once.”

Yuuji flicks through the pages of the photo album in his hand, sees Megumi grow up right before his eyes: first day of kindergarten, high school graduation, one birthday after another. I wish I knew you when were kids, Yuuji had thought, then I would’ve had you in my life for longer. But what he had there as an adult, nestled in their apartment, on the floor in the dim lighting with Megumi by his side, knees bumping and hands touching—he could’ve created an eternity molded after it. It’s a real shame that he didn’t.

“Well then, you must give me the full Megumi-at-Disneyland experience. Feed me churros and take me on all the rides till I almost throw up and hold my hand when I get scared.”

Megumi laughs, “That’s more the Gojo experience, but sure. Let’s.”

The memory glitches, suddenly going so fast, zooming past thousands of frames of them, and it’s so overwhelming, the colors, the sounds, he feels his brain going into overdrive, but at the core of it is Megumi, his rock, his person. His heart settles, and the memory refocuses once they’re there, in the summer heat. They get past the long lines and security and Yuuji says, after taking it all in, “Okay, we have to do it all, step by step. What would Gojo make you do first?”

Megumi groans like he’s dreading to say it, shields his eyes from the scorching sun before eventually pointing at one of the gift shops, “He’d make us buy some mouse ears. The rule was we had to get a new pair each time, no repeats.”

Yuuji had beamed so brightly at that, he could’ve competed with the sun. When Yuuji grabs Megumi’s hand and rushes them both into the nearest gift shop, he is so overwhelmed by the selection, so inexplicably giddy at the thought of seeing Megumi in one of them.

“Pick one for me, and I’ll pick one for you.” Yuuji had said.

Megumi hums, scans all the mouse ears in front of him, hand on his chin because he’s definitely contemplating this seriously, wants to choose the one that makes the most sense. After some time, he picks out a Spider-Man one for Yuuji, “Well, because you like him and all,” and Yuuji makes Megumi try nearly fifteen different ears before Megumi playfully hits his arm, “Just pick one Yuuji, we’re wasting time here.”

“Nope. Seeing you look this cute is definitely not a waste of my time. Here, try this one next,” Yuuji replied, taking off the wizard ears on Megumi’s head and replacing them with a cowboy pair. He is so in love when he gasps and says, “I think we have a winner.”

When they leave the store, Yuuji’s tugging at Megumi’s hand, wanting to do everything, and be everywhere, as long as Megumi is with him. “Okay, slow down. Let’s look at the map.” Megumi said, making them come to a halt.

“Now I’m getting the real Megumi experience.” Yuuji joked, seeing Megumi unfold the map in front of him with a methodical look on his face, deciding which rides Yuuji would like the most.

Megumi had bought them fast-passes and they went on more rides than Yuuji could count, pulling funny faces and making sure to be holding Megumi’s hand in all the souvenir photos. When they’ve eaten more than they can stomach and their legs are sore from all the walking, Yuuji looks to Megumi, still wearing his cute cowboy Mickey Mouse ears. Yuuji loves him more than anything. He needs to tell him that more often.

“What would you do next?” Yuuji says instead.

Megumi looks at the time on his phone. “Well, we wouldn’t do this every time, but the fireworks are starting soon, and we would sometimes watch them.”

Yuuji beams at that, grinning wide, and Megumi smiles at him, knows how much Yuuji loves fireworks. It’s crowded, but they manage to find a good enough spot, and when the fireworks go off, Yuuji knows he should be looking at them, blue and pink and every color in between flaring above the castle in front of him, but he sees all the colors, all the lights reflecting on and bouncing off of Megumi, and finds them to be more beautiful there. Megumi notices, shifts his eyes towards Yuuji.“Yuuji, you’re missing it. It’ll be over in like five minutes.”

Yuuji doesn’t move his eyes, doesn’t hide the smile on his face, doesn’t move his hand away from Megumi’s. “I’m not missing anything. You’re right here.”

The lights from the fireworks don’t hide the blush on Megumi’s face, but he keeps a straight face when he says, “You’re being cute.”   

A dozen jokes and limericks hang on Yuuji’s tongue but they all fade away, all untangle into nothing when he says, more earnestly than he’s said anything else: “I just love you.”

No matter how many times Yuuji tells Megumi he loves him, the same look of surprise passes by on his face all the same. He looks back at Yuuji, looks down at their intertwined fingers. “I love you too. Now watch the fireworks.”

The fireworks end and Yuuji barely caught a glimpse of them, but he doesn’t care.

Yuuji wakes, and throws up on the floor by his bed.

November 19th, 2028: Six Days After

The days bleed into the next and so do the memories. His symptoms are better, that’s for sure, and he feels slightly less disorientated. What he knows for sure right now is this: he had known someone, and now they’re withering away, the memory of them decaying. There had to have been a valid reason for Yuuji to choose this, he thinks. Perhaps the person had hurt him deeply, or they hurt each other. Yuuji’s an impulsive person, he knows this to be true, but to come to a decision as final as this… he trusts it was for a good cause, that they’re both all the better for it, at least.

His friends do very little in helping fill the gaps, and insist that it’s for his own good. At some point, he stops asking about the person, his mind arriving at a point of numbness that he’s come to accept. I chose this, he reminds himself. He tries to stop himself from wondering why, even though he’s rarely successful.

That night, when he sleeps, the memories come to him like the first snow in December, a gentle stream of white before his eyes, calming and still. Yuuji feels like he’s on the outside looking into a snow globe, and he sees it, sees them in the cold, noses red, scarves all the way up to their chins, gloved hands intertwined. The first snow, and the first kiss.

Megumi had been thrown the responsibility of walking his family dogs, Kuro and Shiro, and had texted Yuuji a photo of them. Tsumiki’s sick so I gotta walk them today, he had said, and Yuuji had texted back I wanna meet them please please please. Megumi could never refuse him anything. At this point, they were in that awkward but exciting in-between stage: they've been friends for a few months and Yuuji is definitely not hiding any of his feelings at this point, and he’s also pretty sure Megumi is picking up on it, might like him back. He’s not sure if they were dates exactly, but they go out so often now, pulling each other around every which way: arcades, movies, parks—Yuuji wants him everywhere, doesn’t want to live without him, never wants to separate from him. I’ve never felt this way about anyone he admitted to Nobara on one drunken night, and it didn’t take much alcohol for him to say it. Yuuji’s never been one to know how to keep his feelings in for long.

When Yuuji shows up at Megumi’s, the dogs are jumping and barking animatedly at Yuuji, who does the same to them, pets them and ruffles the fur on their heads, then ruffles Megumi’s hair afterwards. Megumi groans, but leans into the touch. There had been a lot more of this now, soft but intentional touches that were becoming more and more instinctive by the second for the both of them. Yuuji had been reluctant at first, assuming Megumi might not be one for physical affection, might think Yuuji was too much—but he melts into Yuuji’s touch like he’s being molded after it, even starts initiating it. Yuuji just prays he’s not reading too much into it. “They seem to like you,” Megumi said, looking over at the two dogs circling Yuuji, sniffing him and trying to lick his face.

Yuuji is perched down now, meeting the dogs at eye level, scratching both their necks simultaneously while cooing at them in what could only be described as gibberish. “I love them. I’m stealing them.”

Megumi gives him a small laugh, one that Yuuji has been hearing more of, is already getting accustomed to it, wants to drown in it. “You can have them. They’ve destroyed half our furniture and shed everywhere,” Megumi calls them and whistles, gets them to move away from Yuuji, who pouts but starts following. “Let’s head this way.”

For the most part, the walk is quiet and uneventful, bar the occasional small talk that Yuuji starts, feeling like he needs to fill the silence even though Megumi seems to be unbothered by it. Yuuji’s not really sure what to do with that, how to accept that his presence is enough. He’s been getting better at it, trying not to overcompensate and just… be. Yuuji has Megumi to thank for that, really. Yuuji has Megumi to thank for a lot of things, all these memories being part of that, too.

“Your shoelaces,” Megumi had said at one point during their walk, breaking a long albeit comfortable silence.

Yuuji looks down at his sneakers. “What about them?”

Megumi rolls his eyes, stitches his eyebrows together. “They’re untied.”

“Doesn’t bother me,” Yuuji says, shrugging, only slightly teasing.

“Well it bothers me. Sit.” Megumi grabs Yuuji’s arm, brings him to a halt and pushes him down the nearest bench. “Tie them.”

Yuuji obeys with ease, chuckling. “Thought you were gonna tie ‘em for me for a second.”

“In your dreams.” Megumi replies, small smile on his face that fills Yuuji’s heart with so much, his whole body singing melodies and hymns in Megumi’s name, buzzing electric. He doesn’t want a day to pass without seeing that smile.

“That is really dangerous, though. Always walking around with your shoelaces untied. You could, like, trip and crack your skull on the pavement.”

“Aw… you care about my skull,” Yuuji singsongs, and the hit he gets on his shoulder is worth it when its accompanied by Megumi’s grin.

“Shut up.” And at just that moment, between their quiet laughter and soft touches, a light flurry of white from the clouds, the gentle falling of snowflakes on their winter coats. Megumi, standing above him, streetlamp lighting the side of his face a warm yellow, looks up to see the snow falling onto them, mouth slightly open in awe, but Yuuji’s eyes don’t waver—they never do, when Megumi’s there. Yuuji takes Megumi’s hands to stand up from the bench, and once he’s up, doesn’t let go. Megumi takes notice and looks down at their hands, then at Yuuji, now suddenly at eye level, taking him in. Yuuji’s eyes alternate between different parts of Megumi—the tiny, barely there scar near his eye, the mole near his ear, the flutter of his eyelashes, before he locks his gaze onto his lips, lingers on them for too long.

“Just do it already,” Megumi whispers, voice hitched and barely there, and Yuuji nods, entranced, but it’s still Megumi who kisses first, double checks that no ones around before bringing their faces together. Both of their lips are chapped from the cold and their noses runny, light snow landing on their faces making it worse, but neither of them seem to care. Yuuji doesn’t let go of Megumi’s hand, but puts his other on Megumi’s neck, then his jaw, deepens the kiss that’s making them all the warmer. Their cold noses bump, and it makes them both laugh softly, breaking away for just a breath, but it’s a second too long for Yuuji because he’s already kissing Megumi again, not having had enough of him. It’s never enough.

“You’ve been waiting for me to do that?” Yuuji whispers, placing his forehead on Megumi’s, condensation from the biting cold visible from each breath they share.

“Maybe.” Megumi replies softly, gloved hands meeting Yuuji’s face.

Before they decide to start walking again, Yuuji grabs Megumi’s hand, gets him to stop. “Wait,” he says, pulling out his phone and opening the camera, “I don’t wanna forget this.”

November 20th, 2028: Seven Days After

Yuuji’s not shocked when he sees the light flickering on his temple when he wakes up. It’s not that he’s exactly expecting it to be there, but he’s not taken aback by it either—just accepts that it’s there, and starts his day. Nobara had called him, told him to come over to have breakfast with her, it’ll be good for you to get out a bit, she had said, which Yuuji agreed with. The only outing he’s had the energy for the last few days is walking ten steps outside his apartment building to feed the stray cat that always hisses at him. He puts some cat food in a bowl and stops by to see the cat before heading to Nobara’s. “I’m gonna get you to like me one of these days.”

When he makes it to Nobara’s, he hugs her like he’s been really needing it. He remembers they don’t hug like this often, muffles a soft sorry into her shoulder when he tries to let go, but she doesn’t let him, keeping him in place for a few seconds longer. “Don’t be silly.”

“So, what’s for breakfast?” Yuuji says when they walk further in, making their way to her kitchen.

“I don’t know, you tell me. You’re cooking it.”

Yuuji jokingly scoffs. “So you brought me here to cook for you?” 

“Precisely,” Nobara replies, laughing while she takes a seat on the stool facing him. “Make it snappy.”

Yuuji shakes his head, doesn’t hide the smile on his face. It’s a nice change of pace, this. He turns to the fridge, notices some awkward bald spots around the pictures and magnets, like things have been moved around or removed. He doesn’t pay it any mind, opens the fridge and scans it to see what he can make.

Nobara clears her throat, “So, whole week has passed. How are you holding up?”

Yuuji takes a second, meditates on her question. “I don’t know, to be honest. I mean, physically, I’m doing better, I guess. Mentally…” Yuuji trails, not sure if there’s a word that exists that can describe how he really feels, or better yet, the total lack of it. How is he supposed to describe a grief that he can’t name, or that his body is mourning someone that his mind does not know anymore?

When Yuuji doesn’t finish his sentence, mouth still agape, Nobara does it for him, “Like you’re in a fog?” said in a way like she’s quoting it instead of speaking it herself.

Yuuji nods, crossing his arms as he looks back at Nobara, something on her face that he can’t really decipher, and something in him tells him that he cannot ask. “Yeah, exactly. Like I’m in a fog.”

She laughs in something ironic, and maybe a bit cynical, dry and sad, like it’s souring her mouth to let it out. “What?” Yuuji asks, genuinely confused.

“Nothing.” She says, and Yuuji’s not convinced, but doesn’t push further. 

—

When Yuuji goes to bed that night, it’s after taking the very last sleeping pill he’s been prescribed. “I guess this is it,” he mumbles to himself. It’s weird, to experience the finality of something he doesn’t know anymore. Was there love, at least? He settles in his bed, tugs his blanket over his chest and looks at his hands, his palms, all the way down to his fingerprints, his nail beds. This body knew you, he thinks. For a fleeting moment, Yuuji feels the need to apologize. “I’m sorry,” he whispers to himself, to nothing, to no one at all. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he keeps repeating like a prayer as the pill takes effect, lulling him to sleep.

Sand, seashells, sunshine. The memory picks up with the rising tide, like water coming up to his ankles, and he feels the scorching sun freckling his cheeks, the memory burning so intensely it’s almost blinding. Yuuji remembers he was not even supposed to be there, and Megumi wasn’t either—Nobara, wanting to lump all of her many friends into one day trip, invited nearly everybody she knew to a birthday celebration in Enoshima, and Yuuji, having recently sprained his ankle playing volleyball with Todo, had apologized to Nobara and said it would just be a burden on everybody if he joined. I’d just slow you guys down he had said, which Nobara was not having. I don’t care if you just sit on the sand like a statue all day, you’re coming she had replied.

When they get to the beach, everybody immediately races to the water, some new faces Yuuji does not recognize among them, and Yuuji, being the social butterfly that he is, can’t help but feel a bit bummed out that can’t join them the way he wants to. He settles on one of the laid out beach blankets, his knees up and wrists down on the mat, balancing him. He’s sulking and cursing his stupid sprained ankle when he notices a shadow hovering above him, blocking the sun from Yuuji’s eyes.

“You’re with them?” Yuuji hears the shadow speak, and looks back, sees a sea urchin of black hair and a slightly disgruntled look on his face.

Yuuji realizes that the man is referring to the group of friends in the water. Yuuji looks over at them, sees them all splashing water on each other and laughing, and then looks back at the man and gives him a small smile, “I am.”

The man sits next to Yuuji, though he leaves a significant gap between them on the mat. “I’m Fushiguro.” He says after a while, noticing Yuuji’s bewildered eyes on him. Yuuji, watching the memory play out in front of him like sand trickling down an hourglass, simultaneously bears witness to a beginning and an end. Don’t wake up, he wills to himself, or to anyone who can hear him, keep me here forever. Forever never comes, and the memory keeps going, every passing second another grain of sand down the hourglass.

“Itadori. You know Nobara?” Yuuji asks.

Megumi nods, quizzical look on his face when he asks, “Why’re you sitting out here?”

“Bad ankle. I wouldn’t even be here if Nobara hadn’t, you know, basically threatened me to come along.” Yuuji pouts when he points at his foot, looks back at Megumi to see that same, sort of grumpy look on his face. It’s cute.

He nods like he’s all too familiar with what Yuuji’s referring to, “Ah. She threatened me too.”

“How come?”

“I just had my last exam of the semester today. Told her I wouldn’t have time to make it all the way out here afterwards and she gave me a whole twenty minute speech on friendship and loyalty.”

Yuuji chuckles, wishes he could’ve witnessed that speech. “How was the exam?”

Megumi shrugs, looking slightly surprised like he wasn’t expecting Yuuji to ask him that. “Fine, I suppose. If my grade says otherwise I’ll just blame it on Nobara.”

Yuuji laughs again, louder this time, and it makes Megumi’s head turn towards him, baffled look on his face like he wasn’t even trying to be funny in the first place. “What’re you studying?”

“Veterinary medicine.” Megumi says, like it’s nothing, but Yuuji is immediately impressed, says wow with a hand covering his mouth in awe. Where the hell has Nobara been hiding you? he almost asks, but catches himself.

“What happened to your ankle?” Megumi asks, diverting the topic of conversation away from himself.

Yuuji shifts his eyes from Megumi and towards everybody in the water, points at Todo. “Volleyball with that guy over there is no picnic, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Megumi replies, glimpse of a smirk on his face.

Yuuji takes notice that he might be holding up Megumi from joining the rest of the group, “You don’t wanna join ‘em? I don’t mind, you know. Just sitting here.”

Megumi shrugs, showing indifference, but Yuuji senses something else, some uneasiness, “I’m good.”

“You sure?”

Megumi sighs, and Yuuji understands that he doesn’t really want to explain, can see him getting a bit tense. “Not a big fan of the water. Besides, you look like a loser sitting alone.”

Yuuji barely leaves Megumi’s side for the rest of the day, and his sprained ankle is only part of the reason. Their first meeting had been like that—easy, brought together with very little effort, and he doesn’t think he’s ever laughed that much in his life. Yuuji has always found it easy to talk to people, strangers—hell, he could probably spark up a conversation with a plank of wood if he tried and be successful, so it’s no surprise that this first conversation with Megumi went so well, at least to Yuuji. To Nobara, however, you’d think Yuuji defied the laws of physics by befriending Megumi and securing his number so easily. “You must’ve made a good impression on him, surprisingly,” she had said afterwards, on the train back to Tokyo.

“Okay, ouch. Don’t sound so surprised.”

“It’s not you I’m surprised about. Megumi’s not really the type to… I don’t know, I guess I didn’t expect for you guys to get along so well. He swore he’d only be staying for a little bit, but then ended up staying, glued to your side listening to you yap all day.”

Yuuji’s heart skipped a beat at that. “He’s easy to talk to.”

Nobara looks at him like Yuuji’s the first person to ever say that about Megumi. “You guys looked good together. Like, weirdly so.”

Yuuji rolls his eyes, jabs her arm, “Was adding weirdly so to that really necessary?”

She laughs, then shrugs, “I’m just saying. If I had known you guys would click so well I would’ve introduced you two sooner.”

Yuuji looks out the window for a bit, sees Tokyo streaming in as they get closer to home, grips his hand firmly on the armrest, “You really think he liked me?”

Nobara gives him a look that translates to duh and then when Yuuji still doesn’t look convinced she says, “I’ve never been so sure about anything else.”

Yuuji wakes up with his fists clenched so tightly his palms are marked from his nails. He's clutching his sheets like letting them go would make them disappear, and it's hard for him to move. There's dried up tears in his eyes, he feels them when he blinks. Slowly, he unclenches his fists, pulls his sheets away. Every movement feels like a goodbye. 

November 21st, 2028: Eight Days After

Yuuji is called in for his first check up. His vitals are taken, yet again, before he’s facing his doctor.

“Itadori, it’s nice to see you. Please, take a seat.” The doctors smile, his niceties, the diplomas behind him… Yuuji remembers them all so vividly, knows with full certainty that he has been here, yet theres a gaping hole, a well in the middle of all of it— shaped by whatever, or, whoever, he was here for—a gravitational pull towards a presence he cannot name anymore.

“So, how are we feeling?” The doctor starts, shifting his eyes between Yuuji and the monitor in front of him. Yuuji doesn’t know where to even begin, doesn’t know if there is a word to describe how he is feeling—so alien and outside of anything he’s ever felt before, like learning how to walk for the first time but with no gravity to pull him down.

“Fine… I guess. Headachey. First few days were a huge blur. Don’t really remember much from them besides all the dizziness and throwing up.” Yuuji mumbles out, scratching the back of his neck. 

“How are your symptoms now?”

Yuuji shrugs, “Pretty much gone.”

“And the memory extractions… How were they for you? Painful?”

Yuuji wouldn’t say they were painful, exactly. If anything, it just felt heavily invasive, like someone drilling holes into his skull to force the memories out. Yuuji, for the most part, had anticipated the physical toll it would take on his body, had read hundreds of reviews describing their physical symptoms in great detail—it didn’t scare him. He knows how to handle that.

“No pain. Just… weird.” The doctor hums back as a response, types something into his computer.

“We’re gonna do some tests now, okay, Itadori? Nothing complicated. Just answer my questions.”

Yuuji nods, scratches at the leather of his seat.

“Do you remember who you chose to erase?”

Yuuji frowns, starts fidgeting, twisting in his chair. No name comes to mind, no face either. It’s a success. “I-I don’t. I don’t know. No.”

The doctor turns his monitor over so that the screen is facing Yuuji. It’s a picture, a really good one, Yuuji thinks. There’s a man with a pixelated face, dark spiky hair going in all directions, wearing a winter coat. Yuuji’s heart bleeds and teeth clench as if on instinct, the photo imbued with a feeling so warm one could only wish to imitate it by being under a blazing sun. He squints at the photo as if doing that will make the man’s face distinguishable. In a way, it’s no different than seeing childhood photos from a time Yuuji doesn’t remember because he was simply too young, but can still sense a familiarity. Yuuji sees the snow, the bench and the streetlights—it’s a place he’s been to before, he’s sure of this. Yuuji can practically feel the snowflakes that are falling on the man’s face, can hear the zooming of the cars… but for the life of him, he cannot see the memory in his head, can’t put a face to the man in the photo, or a sound to his voice. Yuuji frowns, pinches the bridge of his nose, anxiety rising in his chest—it’s uncomfortable, not knowing. Not being able to fill the gaps.

“Do you recognize this photo?”

Yuuji’s body wants to say yes, more than anything. I know that place, that snowfall, that night. I know him. I knew him. I don’t know him. I don’t know who he is. Did I ever? Were we happy?

Yuuji opens his mouth, then closes it. He doesn’t want the doctor to take this photo away from him, doesn’t want to move on to the next question, wants to look at it for longer, forever. But he can’t lie.

“No. No I don’t.”

The light by his temple flickers shortly afterwards and he can’t see the photo in his mind anymore, no matter how hard he tries. 

December 4th, 2028: 21 Days After

The blue light on his temple is almost entirely dim. After his final check up next week, it will be completely gone, a slate wiped clean. Yuuji gets asked how he is more times than he can count, and always answers with fine because he’s not sure what else would suffice. He decides, after some contemplation, that what he feels is cold. He also can’t help but scan the faces around him whenever he’s outside, searching for something familiar, someone that makes his heart jump, his breath falter, causes time to stop. He tries to quit this habit, reminds himself he had to have chosen this for a reason, a valid one—but then, why does his body still long for it? There’s no face to attach this feeling to, no voice or smell—if Yuuji were to try and draw this person his body longs for, his hands would freeze, unable to come up with something. But the body keeps the score, doesn’t it? If he searches long enough, hard enough, his body would react to it, no? But a search is fruitless with no map, no guidance. He doesn’t know where to look and, for all he knows, he’s probably just lonely.

He thinks about doing something with that loneliness, finding someone to fill it, even if it’s just for a night. But like a body rejecting an organ transplant, he’s so repulsed by the idea of doing that he’s forced to dismiss it immediately, the mere thought of it feeling so foreign and wrong, like his body wants to attack it out of him.

Yuuji doesn’t know what comes over him, but he damn near rips his apartment to shreds. “There has to be something,” he croaks out to himself, voice rough and heart racing, maybe in anger, or desperation, or both. It’s hard to find something when you don’t know what it is that you’re looking for. Still, he flips over his mattress, opens every drawer and every box, even unbuttons his sheets and pillows, goes through every book—there’s no nook or cranny that he leaves alone. Every photo album, every frame; there’s nothing. Looks through his phone, his notes app, his photos, his friends social media accounts. Nothing. No sign of this thing that his body wants to find, wants to hold.

Yuuji looks at his apartment and it’s like a tornado had torn through it, and he’s a piece of scrap lying in the midst of it, debris of his own crashing. He really is just lonely.

December 12th, 2028: 26 Days After

Yuuji forces himself to go out more. It’s tough at first but comes easily to him eventually, as he’s not one to usually isolate and play the role of a hermit, and his friends make it even easier, making sure to always be at his side. He goes to the gym with Todo more often, brunches with Nobara every other day, doesn’t leave an empty spot in his calendar. It reaches a point where it’s hard for him to decipher whether he’s always been like this or if he’s actively running away from something, but he decides that, for now, he shouldn’t care. This longing, whatever it is and whoever its for, isn’t something he can nurture, isn’t a target he can chase. If it’s buried deep under a hundred layers of snow, maybe one day it will thaw and see the light of a day where Yuuji will be able to tend to it. For now, he doesn’t want to.

The thing is, you cannot control your subconscious. With every face that passes Yuuji at every street he walks on, every train he rides, his first thought is: was it you? If he were to gather every single person on the planet, would he be able to pick them out of the line up? Would his heart sing for them, let him know that it once used to beat for them? It’s a hypothetical that carries no value, he knows this. He wonders when he’ll be able to stomach the sight of everybody around him.

His PTO is up and he’s been going back to work, has something to put his restless energy into again. He wakes, goes to work, sometimes joins his coworkers for drinks at their usual bar afterwards, then comes home to that loneliness, though, who is he fooling? It’s not the walls of his apartment that house his loneliness. He’s housing it all himself just fine, thinks it might really be apart of him—has he ever truly known a life without it?

Tonight, that loneliness hits him before he’s even done with his shift. His coworkers drag him out to go drinking when he declines at first, going what’s with you, man? this isn’t like you! which is a bit funny to Yuuji because he doesn’t remember what being him actually feels like anymore. Now, Yuuji’s a man who can handle his liquor just fine, and even he knows he’s overindulged, knows he’d had one too many when he hears his words slurring, feels his skin getting hotter than usual, sweat beading on his forehead. Everything’s so fuzzy and jagged at the edges like this, thinks if he can squint hard enough, a certain love will manifest in front of him, shapeless and vague but it will hold him close just the same and cool him down, make him feel good, and Yuuji wants so badly to reach out and touch it, thinks maybe another whiskey sour will shape that love into someone he can actually see again. He frowns at himself. Again?

Still in that drunken blur, he lifts a hand to the bartender for another glass but is shot down, told he’s had enough for tonight. That he should go home. If he was just the teensiest bit more hysterical right now, he would’ve laughed at that. Home. The place that exists so long as he doesn’t go to it, no? He knows that quote from somewhere, can’t quite place it now. He knows he should call a taxi but when he opens his phone and sees some earlier notifications from Nobara, he feels the sudden urge to call her.

A few rings, and then her voice: “Yuuji?”

“D’you think I did the right thing?” Yuuji slurs out, feels that old nausea from three weeks ago restarting in the back of his throat. He’s outside the bar now, and the cold air ironically feels like an embrace.

“Huh? Yuuji, are you okay? Have you been drinking?”

“M’fine. All good. Really. Just— wanna know what you think.” He slumps his back against a wall, slides down till he’s sitting on the ground.

“What I think? About what? Yuuji—“ He can hear her starting to worry, hears sounds like she’s moving around.

“About what I did, when I—“ he gestures towards his temple as if she can see it, makes a sad attempt at an explosive poof sound, “Y’know.”

Nobara pauses, and Yuuji can hear her sigh through the static, “Yuuji, it’s—“ she starts, like she’s about to give him a genuine answer, then she stops, clicks her tongue: “Just, where are you? You need me to come get you?”

“Nah. I’m with the guys, y’know. From work. Drank a bit. Most of them left though. S’fine, really. Sorry. I should—I’ll just go.”

She sighs again, “Yuuji, no. It’s okay. Just, humor me and send me your location anyways, alright?”

He does even though he’s totally fine, and then Nobara hangs up, texts him that she’s on her way, tells him to get some water. By the time he finds the will to get up off the ground and get back in the bar for a glass, Nobara’s already there. Gulps when she sees Yuuji like he’s in a state that would warrant that reaction, and Yuuji realizes he is when he can hardly stand, clutching at the bar stool next to him to stay upright. Yuuji doesn’t remember much after this, just knows he was helped into a cab with Nobara, and then he’s throwing up into his own toilet. Nobara doesn’t leave him throughout it all, not even when he’s passed out in his own bed, tears stained on his face. It’s the longest he’s slept in a while.

Yuuji wishes the question he asked Nobara when he was drunk would’ve left him by the time he was up and hungover, but it’s the first thing he thinks of when he wakes. The right thing. It sits heavily on his tongue and he blurts it out when they’re in his kitchen in the morning: “So, did I?”

Nobara gives him a confused look while drinking her latte, and then Yuuji mumbles out, “do the right thing, I mean.”

Nobara sets down her coffee, then buries her face in her hands. Maybe he should’ve waited a bit longer before asking again. The thing is, he knows Nobara would never lie to him, a fact he learned after they had just met for the first time and she had told him he needed a haircut. She’s honest, doesn’t beat around the bush and if Yuuji did make the right choice, she would have no trouble telling him.

That’s why his chest tightens when she says: “Yuuji, does it really matter? It’s already done. No point in asking that now.” Her tone is a lot more patient than Yuuji had anticipated, though.

He shakes his head, unsatisfied. Had this person Yuuji erased been an evil, cruel monster that hurt Yuuji beyond the possibility of redemption, Nobara would’ve explicitly said so, would probably repeat it daily and make Yuuji write it down so that he never forgets it. No, this person hadn’t been like that, then. It’s why Nobara can’t speak of them, Yuuji figures. If they were cruel, it would’ve been an easy thing to say it—maybe Yuuji would never have had to erase them, even. They were gentle, Yuuji thinks, or hopes. It’s important for Yuuji to make this distinction, to know that they were good. To know that he was loved.

“I just want to know what you think.” Yuuji mumbles.

“I already told you what I thought before you did it. You still went ahead and did it anyway.”

He can’t argue with that. He tries something else though, asks a question he hasn’t brought up in a while. “You really don’t know them?”

“I don’t.” Nobara replies, maybe a little too fast, and can’t look at Yuuji when she says it either, “Look, I don’t know what going through all this is really like, but the more you ask, the crazier you’ll drive yourself, alright?” Yuuji notices she’s trying to keep her voice steady, but there’s a slight shakiness there that most people would miss.

“So, what, you suggest I just drop it? Let it go?”

“Yes, precisely. Let it go.”

January 5th, 2029: 53 Days After

It takes a considerable amount of effort, but eventually, Yuuji stops searching. Has ‘let it go’ as Nobara had advised him. It doesn’t make him sleep any better or stop him from scratching at his skin like he’s aching for something, but he forces it down, shuts it out. Tells himself he’s holding his pillow tight at night because it’s too cold. Starts to look people in the eye without asking that foolish, useless question in his head. The people aren’t easier to look at either, but it’s because he knows he’s being looked back at like he’s some broken thing, like they know. Know of his neediness, or his wants that are so faceless and intangible he can’t even dream of them if he tried. Everyday and everybody starts feeling and looking the same.

January 28th, 2029: 76 Days After

Yuuji has to clear out his locker at work after his soda somehow exploded in there during his shift. Most of what’s in there is clutter, garbage he keeps mindlessly tossing in, collecting dust. Under an old hoodie, Yuuji finds a pile of papers—receipts, coupons, flyers. He flips through the scraps with one hand and throws them in the garbage with the other, until he reaches an outlier: a bright pink sticky note. His body freezes at the sight of it, before he's even had the chance to read it. His hand twitches, and then he reads, Okayu for you to feel better. Heat it up before you eat it. Don’t forget to take your cold medicine after as well, drink some tea and take it easy today. Come home safely. Love you.

It’s not signed, there’s no date, and Yuuji is certain he doesn’t recognize the handwriting, doesn't remember receiving the note in the first place. The only movement his body is capable of making is blinking profusely at the note. He somehow gets his frigid fingers to move, and they automatically start tracing the come home safely over and over again, as if the gesture would force the words to come to life, cast a spell. So this is you? Yuuji wonders, breathing heavily. Who else would Yuuji come home to besides the person he no longer remembers? There’s no one else that it could be, he had never lived with anyone besides his gramps, and that was before he even moved to Tokyo. His fingers move to the characters right next to where he was just tracing. Yuuji's lips part at the sight. So there had been in love, then. There had been care, too. Yuuji was cared for. 

It’s a zero sum game where Yuuji is playing against himself, he realizes. To have had this love and care, Yuuji also had to lose it. It must have been nice to be cared for like this, Yuuji thinks, as he puts the sticky note in his pocket. It must have been nice to be loved. 

February 5th, 2029: 84 Days After

It’s hard for Yuuji to stop going back to the sticky note. He even thinks that if he were to tuck it away somewhere that’s annoying to get to, it’ll stop him from reaching for it multiple times a day, a plan that, of course, doesn’t work. He's read it so often he starts mindlessly tracing the words on his hand, etching them into his skin like they will mean something there. He’s making dinner and turns the gas on and thinks about scorching the sticky note, imagines watching it burn. He flinches at the thought, shakes his head, like it would hurt less if he just burned himself instead.

It’s an uncomfortable mix of guilt and disgust that the words on the note make him feel, all directed towards himself. They had loved him, apparently, yet Yuuji still erased them. Yuuji might just want to point a finger to blame and conveniently finds it very easy to blame himself, but he can’t stop himself from wondering if the person ever stopped loving him, and if so, what did Yuuji do to make that happen? Why did they ever stop loving him? It’s hard for Yuuji to imagine that he was not the one causing the hurt, for some reason. 

February 9th, 2029: 88 Days After

Yuuji takes the same walk back home from the nearest train station everyday. He doesn’t really have much of a choice, there’s only one route that makes sense, and he’s walked it so often he knows how many steps it takes each time. Maybe it was the egregiously laborious shift he’s just had, or the way his train back home had him packed like a sardine for nearly thirty minutes, but when he reaches his apartment building, he doesn’t stop, and he keeps walking. It’s the type of cold thats settling deep into his bones and he’s so sore everywhere but his body moves him, one foot after the other, nonetheless.

Not even ten minutes later, he gets mauled by two big dogs. Or at least he thinks he does for the first few seconds, before realizing he’s not actually getting attacked, but more like getting surrounded, and they’re sniffing him, pulling at his jacket, one of them is licking his hand—it’s all very overwhelming. Yuuji yelps between all the barking, “What the—“

“Shit, I’m sorry, Kuro, Shiro, get off, what the hell—” Their guardian, Yuuji assumes, says frantically, trying to get the dogs away from Yuuji, but they’re practically climbing on top of him now, barking at him like he’s made out of dog treats.

“Ouch, easy there! It’s—It's okay, they’re not hurting me, I think,” Yuuji manages to say, and the dogs are so excited, that Yuuji can’t help but get excited too, reciprocating their affection with pets and scratches.  

“What has gotten into you two— They’re really never like this, I’m sorry,” The man says, seeming to give up on getting the dogs away after Yuuji has settled on the ground now, cooing who’s a good dog at each of them when they cuddle further into him.

“It’s alright, really, because they’re so cute, are they—” before Yuuji can ask his question, he notices the man crouching down to his level now, grabbing Yuuji’s hand firmly.

“You said they didn’t hurt you, shit, they really never bite or scra—“

Yuuji realizes the man is referring to the bright red scratches on Yuuji’s hand, then starts laughing awkwardly. “Oh no, thats— it’s from my cat. Well, he's not really mine. He's a stray outside my building that hates me.”

The man lets go of Yuuji’s hand almost immediately, runs a hand through his hair and follows it with a sigh of relief, and after some shallow breathing it seems he’s processed what Yuuji has said. “He hates you?”

Yuuji shrugs, small pout on his face. “Y’know, I just wanna help him and all. I leave him food and water everyday, and he comes up to me and sniffs my hand and I’m like, finally you like me! so then I try to pet him and then it’s—” he points at the scars, “All this. I really worry about him out in this cold.”

The dogs have calmed down slightly now, but they don’t leave Yuuji’s side. The man takes a few seconds to register Yuuji’s words, or maybe everything that’s happened in the last few minutes all together, and Yuuji uses those few little seconds to look at him, take him in. Pretty, he thinks. Like, really pretty.

“Hm. We can take in strays where I work, put them up for adoption. He'll be able to find a good home. You’d have to pay the fees to get him vaccinated and all, but I could help you. With the cat, I mean. If you need help moving him since he hates you.” He says, gestures towards Yuuji’s hand, small smirk on his face.

“Hey, I’ll have you know that he hasn’t hissed at me in like, two days. We’re making progress!”

“Your words, not mine.” The man’s smiling now, and Yuuji can’t help but smile back. “I am sorry about these two though. Don’t know what got them all worked up.” He says with a slight frown on his face, pointing at his dogs. One of them is still licking Yuuji’s face. The man scans around like he’s looking for whatever might’ve set them off, but finds nothing.

Yuuji gestures the apology away, keeps his hand out for the man to shake, “Help me with the cat and we’ll call it even?”

The man ponders Yuuji’s hand for a few moments before shaking it, “Deal.”

It’s a short walk to his building with Yuuji mostly just talking to the dogs and praying that the cat is waiting for him outside. Yuuji’s also exchanged names with the man, Fushiguro Megumi, and tells him that it’s too cold out right now for him to not be wearing a scarf. He also learns that Fushiguro just recently started his veterinary internship, goes into some detail on what the process will be like to get the cat up for adoption. When they get to the building, Yuuji spots the familiar black fur and green eyes, “There he is!”

They approach him cautiously, afraid he might run away, but to Yuuji’s surprise he approaches them with ease. Fushiguro gets close, crouches down and reaches his hand out, and he sniffs at it for a few seconds before nuzzling his head into his hands, “What the fuck,” Yuuji says.

Fushiguro huffs out a quiet laugh, small smile on his face as he scratches his neck and he starts purring, tail up and happy. “How the hell did you do that?”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You must be like, a cat whisperer or something, thats— I’ve been trying forever,” Yuuji crouches down now to be at Fushiguro’s level, hesitant to touch the cat out of fear that he'll run away.

Fushiguro scratches under his ear, “Try petting him here. He likes it.”

“He's gonna kill me,” Yuuji says, but still brings his hand up, puts it near where Fushiguro’s hand is now. Something Yuuji cannot name just pushes him to trust Fushiguro, his body moving before he has time to tell it what to do, and it follows Fushiguro’s gesture, starts scratching near the cats ear.

“Woah,” Yuuji says, in a whisper. It’s only a few seconds before the cat moves away, but he doesn’t hiss, or bite, or scratch.

“So I had to bring you all the way over here for him to like me? If I had known that, I would’ve met you sooner.” Yuuji jokes, turning his head to Fushiguro now who’s still looking at the cat. Yuuji thinks that the cat and Fushiguro share an uncanny resemblance, in a way. Black hair, green eyes, bit of a feisty face but pretty all the same.  Fushiguro snaps his fingers lightly, barely making a sound, and the cat runs back to him, sniffs around his hand like he's waiting for a treat. 

“You think you can try picking him up?” Fushiguro asks.

Yuuji hums before saying, “Well, I have you here to protect me in case he tries to eat me alive, so we should be good.”

Fushiguro laughs softly at that, rolling his eyes, “He's not gonna eat you.”

“Ah, well, if the cat whisperer himself is saying that then I know it to be true.”

“You know what, I’ll just do it.” Fushiguro says, goes to pick him up.

“Nooo, let me,” Yuuji whines, and that gets Fushiguro to laugh again, and something about that makes Yuuji feel so giddy, wants to try to do it again and again, wants to know all the ways he can make Fushiguro laugh. “Okay, how do we do this?”

“Just, lift him up from under her arms, near his belly. From behind so he doesn’t get startled. It’s not that different to carrying babies.”

Yuuji huffs out, scratches the back of his neck, “I don’t have any experience doing that either.”

“You're overthinking it.”

Yuuji nods, then approaches him slowly, holding his breath like the sound of it would be enough to set him off. Fushiguro is distracting the cat by making him sniff his hand, and then in one, albeit a bit of an awkward swoop, Yuuji manages to whisk him up off the ground, nestling him into his arms. Fushiguro keeps his hand near him, scratching his neck to keep him distracted, and Yuuji comes out of it unscathed, no new scratches in sight. The cat meows, and Yuuji laughs, proud grin on his face, “I did it!”

Fushiguro smiles back, small but there, “You did.”

“Hey, could you like, take a photo? This is kind of a historical moment, you know.” Yuuji asks, grinning down at the cat. He’d get his own phone out of his pocket for Fushiguro to use but is too afraid of dropping the cat, but Fushiguro takes his own phone out first anyway.

“Sure. I can text it to you.”

Oh. Oh. That was smooth. Unless he’s reading too much into it, which he most probably is, but texting the photo to Yuuji would mean securing his number, so that’s a good sign, right? He wants Yuuji’s number. Or, you know, there is the possibility that this stranger is just wanting to be nice and will text the photo and leave it at that. Yuuji is suddenly thankful that it’s nighttime and that this alleyway is poorly lit, because he is most definitely blushing right now. Fushiguro positions his phone, takes a few photos, and then the cat gets impatient, tries to squeeze his way out of Yuuji’s grip. Yuuji doesn’t fight it, just sets him down on the ground.

“You know, I’ll miss seeing him here. If he gets adopted, I mean. Is that a bad thing to say? I want him to find a good home, of course. But he's kind of a part of my day, this little bugger.” Yuuji realizes he’s starting to ramble, so he stops, looks at the cat who’s sniffing around Fushiguro’s shoes. He really seems to like him.

Yuuji meets Fushiguro’s eyes, and sees him frowning like Yuuji’s missing the obvious, “You know you can just keep him, right?”

Huh. Yuuji hadn’t really considered that as an option before, seeing as he was convinced the stray cat despised him. To be fair, he still thinks that, his animosity most likely just temporarily subdued by Fushiguro’s presence, for whatever reason. Actually, scratch that, Yuuji’s becoming sure of the reason, and in a way, he’s no different from the cat himself. Fushiguro is a nice presence to be around. He’s only known him for the better part of a half hour, but it’s something in his nature, his movements and poise, that makes Yuuji so sure—like knowing an apple is going to be sweet before you even take a bite. Yuuji is unsure if it’s just him being naive, but he already feels comfortable around him, his feet instinctively shuffling towards him, hands hovering near him like he’s magnetized. It's become a rare thing to find someone who makes him feel this way. 

He realizes he’s been quiet for too long, “You think he’d want that?” 

It seems everything Yuuji says elicits a laugh from Fushiguro, even if it’s faint and barely audible. “I mean, he's a cat. They’ll be happy wherever there’s food and shelter.” 

Yuuji huffs, “And love too!” 

Fushiguro breaths out a laugh, then nods while looking at Yuuji with a fondness he’s never quite gotten from a stranger before. “Yeah, and love too.” 

February 10th, 2029: 89 Days After

So, Yuuji has a cat now. He also has a new friend. Or, someone who Yuuji hopes will be his friend. In fact, Yuuji wants more than anything to see Fushiguro again, for Fushiguro to like him. It's an inexplainable thing, but all Yuuji knows is that he needs it, needs to hear that laugh, see that smile, meet those eyes again. Wants to take a bite of him and be bitten back (theres a chance this thought came about from having being bitten by his cat mere seconds ago, but thats neither here nor there). Yuuji's not the type to be in denial, he knows where these feelings are coming from, won't try to talk himself out of the fact that he has a crush. What would be the point in that? He's not ashamed, for the most part. Yuuji won't lie and say that some of his thoughts haven't been a tad bit shameful. Just a bit. 

More so than anything else, it’s just been kind of nice to know that he’s capable of feeling this again when it wasn’t even that long ago that the thought of being with anyone in any capacity had repulsed him so viscerally, when the loneliness had gotten so ugly he scared himself thinking that it was an innate thing sewn into the lining of his stomach. So when he thinks about Fushiguro and all the things that come with liking someone, he’s not ashamed, just… relieved. Like he’s starting to come out the other side. God, he can’t remember the last time he’s smiled this much.

He opens his texts with Fushiguro for the umpteenth time, sees the same two messages there: the photos he took of Yuuji, and a this is Fushiguro Megumi right under them. Yuuji smiles down at his phone, probably too big for how mundane the messages are, and then sends two photos of his cat: one with Sukuna biting at his hand like it's a chew toy, the other with Sukuna glaring at him after nuzzling deep into one of his bookshelves. 

Fushiguro Megumi: you should keep an eye out for any tight spaces, cats will hide in anything 

Fushiguro Megumi: [Sent a location]

Fushiguro Megumi: you can bring him over today to get checked out and everything :) 

Itadori Yuuji: okie dokie!!! 

Itadori Yuuji: you'll be there?

Fushiguro Megumi: i will

Itadori Yuuji: yay :D

Yuuji leaves the chat and goes to the one right under it, realizing he hasn't updated anyone on having adopted a cat. He sends Nobara the photos Fushiguro took last night, and then more photos of Sukuna. It hasn't even been a full 24 hours but somehow Yuuji has amassed hundreds of photos of him already, and a lot more scratches. So much for making progress.

Kugisaki Nobara: [Sent a photo] 

Kugisaki Nobara: whose dogs are these???

Yuuji frowns, does not expect that to be what Nobara would text back, having anticipated a more excited response, maybe some emojis, at the very least. He opens the photo, realizes that Nobara has zoomed into the background of the photos of Yuuji holding Sukuna for the first time and taken a screenshot of where Fushiguro's dogs were sitting right behind him.

Itadori Yuuji: you wont believe it 

Itadori Yuuji: so im walking right... and then BOOM suddenly im jumped by those two dogs ok but theyre not actually jumping me theyre just like hugging me and stuff and the guy whos walking them is like so apologetic it was so funny lmao

Itadori Yuuji: and then somehow i end up taking him to see the cat thats always biting me and he doesnt even hiss at him a single time??? anyway hes helping me out 

A few minutes pass, and Yuuji sees Nobara type and stop typing around ten times before she eventually sends:

Kugisaki Nobara: helping you out?

Itadori Yuuji: yeah well hes a vet or idk if hes a vet yet hes doing an internship anyway hes gonna get sukuna checked out n everything :D typing that made me realize im trusting this stranger too much but oh well he was nice lol 

Kugisaki Nobara: ... 

Kugisaki Nobara: so you're seeing him again? 

Itadori Yuuji: yeah..? 

Itadori Yuuji: dont worry im sure hes not a serial killer or anything

Kugisaki Nobara: did u befriend him or something?

Itadori Yuuji: oh. i see what this is 

Itadori Yuuji: dont worry nobara ur still my number one friend ok. no need to get jealous

Another few minutes go by with no text from Nobara, which is strange, since she's the fastest texter Yuuji knows. Nobara is worrying about nothing. Yuuji knows his flaw of being too trusting, but he's as sure of Fushiguro not being a threat as he is about any other obvious truth, like water being wet or the sky being blue. He just knows. Yuuji is suddenly startled by sounds coming from his kitchen, pots and pans banging and crashing, looks over to see Sukuna having knocked over half of his appliances. 

Kugisaki Nobara: shut the fuck up

Kugisaki Nobara: alright 

Kugisaki Nobara: ok

Kugisaki Nobara: cute cat i can't wait to see him attacking you in your apartment instead of outside of it now :) 

Yuuji smiles after getting the response he was waiting for. 

March 20th, 2029: 127 Days After

It's Yuuji's birthday, and also the one month anniversary of him and Megumi's first date. They're not really celebrating the latter, it's just a pleasant reminder, a milestone Yuuji didn't think he'd be experiencing right now in his life, after everything. After having sealed himself off from the basic need that is to want. Without even realizing it, Yuuji had let that snow thaw, and that buried feeling, that ugly, all-consuming craving from weeks ago has been tended to, except there was never really anything ugly about it, he's starting to realize. Why would it be an ugly thing to want to be cared for? And, Yuuji knows he feels safe enough to let Megumi tend to that feeling because Megumi’s the kind of guy you buy flowers for knowing he’ll take care of them, already has a pair of floristry scissors to trim the stems and knows to add just enough sugar to keep them alive longer, switches out the water regularly even if its a hassle. He cares with such intention, as if to say: this is something to keep alive.

He thinks of the last few weeks, how seamlessly Megumi had entered Yuuji's life, and vice versa. Knowing him has just felt like: I’ve known you my whole life. Yuuji had joked about how they had shared a past life, reincarnated again in this lifetime to be together again. Megumi asked him if he really believed in that stuff, and Yuuji shrugged, it's easy to believe it when it's you. Even their first kiss, their first time sleeping together—it had all felt like coming home. Has Yuuji always been this cheesy? He doesn't even care, because Megumi's there in his kitchen, and Yuuji gets to wrap his arms around his waist, pull him in closer. Gets to kiss him and then kiss him again, and it feels like coming home each time. 

"I know I already wished you a happy birthday at midnight, but happy birthday again." Megumi whispers in between kisses, his arms around Yuuji's neck. He fits so perfectly there, they fit so perfectly together. 

Yuuji thinks back to what he can put together from his last birthday. There's holes in the memory to fill for sure, but for the most part, he remembers that he was at work, remembers the office building fire. Beyond that, Yuuji remembers nothing. He doesn't think about those days often now, the person he had erased. From time to time he'll wonder about them, but lately, he feels he's come to terms with it. Yuuji wishes them good health, hopes they are happy, that they are doing well. That's all he can really do. You were then, and this is now. Before you and after you. That's all it can be. He sees his after in front of him now, kisses him deeply, pulls him in even closer, eucalyptus and citrus filling his senses as he smells Megumi's hair. Yuuji's happy, and how beautiful is it to know that with full certainty? 

March 30th, 2029: 137 Days After

Yuuji tells Megumi that he loves him. It was kind of an accident? It’s Megumi’s own fault, really, that Yuuji’s first I love you came out as a slip of the tongue instead of in the well-rehearsed speech he had been practicing for days now, psyching himself up for it every morning in the mirror with shaving cream all over his face, wanting to do it at the right time, in the perfect setting. Was even going to include a line from a poem Megumi really likes. But then Megumi brought home pastries.

Upon meeting Gojo, Megumi’s dad-but-not-dad, Yuuji’s acquired a bit of sweet tooth, what with all the desserts Gojo orders every time he meets up with Yuuji and Megumi, or when Megumi goes to visit Gojo and comes back with like, twenty donuts saying these are from Gojo (somehow Gojo already knows Yuuji doesn’t like jam-filled donuts, thinks maybe Megumi had told him? It’s sweet if he did), so when a nearby bakery goes viral and has lines out the door for hours everyday, Yuuji is buzzing to try it, except the bakery is closed when he gets off work and his lunch break is not long enough to stand in line forever. He accepts his fate that he will never know what their croissants tastes like, until Megumi walks home with a box full of them and then some.

He had told Yuuji to meet him at Yuuji’s apartment during his lunch break, and then walks in with like, three full boxes stacked over the other that nearly cover Megumi’s face.

“How long did you wait in line for?”

“I don’t know, like an hour and a half? It was—“

Yuuji gasps, unloads the boxes from Megumi’s hands, “An hour and a half? Megumi, you didn’t have to,”

Megumi shrugs, in that nonchalant way of his, “Wasn’t that bad. I had that audiobook I wanted to finish anyway. They were already sold out of a few things, I should’ve asked you what you wanted to try but I wanted to surprise you, so.”

Yuuji sets the boxes down on the kitchen counter, opens one to find all things cinnamon-sugar coated, custard filled, chocolate covered and it’s Megumi who stood in line for ninety minutes to get them, paid for them and brought them all the way here for Yuuji to try just because he wanted them.

“Megumi…” Yuuji starts, because he’s filled with so much love he doesn’t know what to do with it. Fuck. Stick with the plan, the speech.

Megumi opens the rest of the boxes, “Did I miss something you really wanted to try? Shit, I could go back tom—“

“I love you.” Yuuji blurts out. Idiot. So much for planning.

“What?” Megumi says, stops moving completely.

“I mean—It’s, well, you know.” Yuuji darts his eyes around, avoids looking at Megumi.

“I…I know?” Megumi says slowly, and then Yuuji meets Megumi’s eyes and sees something like amusement. Like he thinks this is funny.

“Yes. You know, so. Should we, um, try this one first?” Yuuji picks up a cinnamon roll, and then Megumi actually starts laughing.

“Yuuji.”

Yuuji huffs out, knows he’s blushing right now, “What?”

Megumi gives him a bewildered look, breathes out a laugh when he says, “You’re unbelievable.”

“I— Okay.” Yuuji’s scratching his scalp, feeling a bit cornered with how Megumi is looking at him right now.

“Say it again, so I can reply to you properly this time.” Megumi comes around the corner so he’s facing Yuuji now, removes the cinnamon roll out of Yuuji’s hand and takes a bite. “Go on.”

“Don’t wanna.” Yuuji mumbles out, sees Megumi put the cinnamon roll down and lick his fingers, and then look up at him, smug smile on his face. What a tease.

“No? So should I say it, and then you'll say it back?”

Yuuji shrugs, but he really can’t play the nonchalant part for long, it’s almost painful. Still, he persists: “If you want.”

Megumi breathes out a laugh, mumbles if I want… as his smile turns sweet, and he puts a hand on Yuuji’s face, tilts Yuuji’s head to get his eyes to meet his own, so close now they’re chest to chest. He brings his face close enough to Yuuji’s that he can actually smell the cinnamon that was just on his lips, “I love you.” He says, after kissing the corner of Yuuji’s mouth.

Yuuji just stares at Megumi at first, follows his eyes, feels his breath hitting his skin, warming it. It’s silly how shy he feels considering he was the one who said it first, and he can’t keep up the nonchalant act that barely lasted three minutes, presses his forehead on Megumi’s as he brings up his hands to caress his face, his milky soft skin. His thumb grazes over Megumi’s temple, plants a kiss there, “I love you too.”

April 2nd, 2029: 140 Days After

It might feel like too fast for most, but Megumi moves in with Yuuji, and to them, the pacing is just right. If anything, to Yuuji, it had been a bit too slow—he would've moved in with Megumi that very first week if he had asked. It just seemed like the natural order of things. Megumi had told Yuuji he had been crashing at a friends for the past few months, on and off. Sometimes would stay at his sisters, too. Didn’t like being alone in his apartment, wasn't doing very well mentally. He was being a bit cagey and hesitant to open up about it, but Yuuji didn't push, knows Megumi will tell him when or if he wants to, just assures him that he's here if he needs him. 

Yuuji takes well to the domestic life, he’s finding out. The entire time he’s at work, or at the gym, or wherever he is, he’s just itching to get home knowing Megumi will be there. When he’s on the train heading back to their apartment, he’s texting Megumi, who’s also on his way back from work: bet u im gonna get home before u. if im right u have to make dinner >:D. Megumi texts back: i’ll take that bet. Yuuji loses the bet and ends up making dinner but Megumi helps him nonetheless, grabbing things from their fridge that has a few photos of them now, and a magnetic white board where Megumi is currently writing their grocery list for the week. Yuuji distantly hears the tune from their washing machine alerting them their load is done, “I’ll go put the clothes in the drier till you’re done,” Megumi says. Yuuji gives Sukuna a nibble of cheese and Megumi swats his hand away, takes out a cat bowl from the dishwasher and prepares Sukuna’s meal. They both eat dinner on the couch and watch a cheesy horror movie and when Megumi says he’s gonna shower, Yuuji says he’s going to join him to ‘save water’. Megumi always laughs at that. When they’re in bed and Yuuji is holding Megumi tight, pressing soft kisses in his neck, then his shoulder, he thinks about how grateful he is. That he can get in bed knowing he’ll actually be able to sleep, that he’ll wake up and see Megumi still there. That he doesn’t feel lonely anymore.

April 4th, 2029: 142 Days After

Yuuji tries to make plans with Nobara, texts her about going to see a movie. She's been a bit distant, says she's too busy, which Yuuji believes, for the most part. She has a new girlfriend, Maki, so it makes sense for her to not want to meet up as often, right? People can be like that during the honeymoon phase. Except, Yuuji also has a new boyfriend, and he can still manage to make time to see his friends. There has to be something else, Yuuji thinks. He racks his brain for some kind of explanation—maybe he upset her and didn't realize? But he knows Nobara, knows she doesn't struggle with confrontation and would tell Yuuji if she was mad at him about something. He checks his phone, sees a text from her saying she can't go out tonight, has a thing to go to. Yuuji sighs, feeling a bit helpless. Maybe she really is just busy. 

April 10th, 2029: 148 Days After

Yuuji finds out Megumi and Nobara are friends. Like, really close friends. It feels a bit crazy to both Yuuji and Megumi to have had his mutual tie without knowing about it, but it's a pleasant surprise, nonetheless. Megumi and Nobara have known each other for years, apparently. Before Yuuji even moved to Tokyo. He tries to remember if Nobara has ever mentioned him in passing, was he never at any hangouts before? Yuuji would've remembered him, surely. Megumi has said he didn't go out much when he was a student, even now he's still more of a homebody, so maybe their paths truly never crossed. So, in the three-ish years Yuuji has known Nobara, she has failed to mention one very close friend of hers. That's pretty normal, Yuuji guesses.

Yuuji's memory is more muddled than he thought it would be, because he struggles to remember a lot of moments from his friendship with Nobara, now that he thinks about it. Certain parties, gatherings. He knows the memories are there, knows he's been in them, but picturing it in his head is an impossible task. Is this what getting old feels like? He recalls the last days of his gramps, how he had reminisced mostly about his childhood. Said that was all he could remember. Maybe Yuuji is just getting older, then. It's harder to remember newer memories. Except he’s only 26 and can remember pretty much everything else so it doesn’t seem quite plausible that his age is the reason.

Yuuji remembers his doctor mentioning how new and experimental the procedure that erased his memories had been. Maybe it messes with more than just the memories of the person being erased? That makes sense, Yuuji decides. 

May 1st, 2029: 169 Days After

Nobara is moving out of her apartment and moving in with her girlfriend, Maki, and Yuuji is asked to help her move. He anticipates having to move a lot of boxes and furniture but dear God Nobara's apartment is practically drowning in her things, theres hardly any space to move. Yuuji has to hold in his gasp when he sees steps in.

“Jeez, Nobara, I didn't take you for a hoarder," Yuuji mumbled, upon walking in and staying cemented in place, no room on the ground to move. 

"Shut it. This is a normal amount of things for a person to own." Nobara snaps, placing a box in his hands, and like, Yuuji’s really fit but even he nearly collapses at the weight of it. Yuuji glances around, sees that half of the apartment is not packed up yet. This is going to be a long day. Nobara places another heavy box on top of the one he's already holding. Well, at least he'll get his workout in, he supposes. 

Yuuji connects his phone to a speaker he finds lying around, blasts the music real loud, and moves what must have been enough items for an entire town into the rented moving van outside. He's sweating and panting at this point from having to take the stairs so often because of course the elevators not working and his ears are starting to ring from the music. He hears Nobara yelling something out at him from the kitchen, but most of it gets drowned out by the noise and the ringing in his ears and all he manages to hear is closet. He shrugs, puts together that one of the closets in the apartment needs to be packed up or cleared out. It's been about five hours now and they've made considerable progress, so most of the apartment is empty. He goes in her bedroom, notices a few boxes up on a high shelf in the closet still there. Must be what she meant, then. He grabs one of them, brings it down. "Huh," Yuuji breathes out. 

Yuuji frowns, curious look on his face when he looks down at the box and sees Yuuji written on it. Maybe he had left some of his stuff here? Must be a lot of things, for the box to be this heavy. The box is taped up, but he opens it still, curiosity getting the better of him. They are his things, right? There's no harm in taking a peek. He's not sure what he expects to see, but it's certainly not what his eyes end up looking at. At first glance, there are what appear to be some letters. Yuuji sits down on the ground now, legs crossed, box in front of him. He takes out the letters, then sees some photo albums underneath, and some loose photos as well, some polaroids. Random knickknacks, some mementos. Are these things really his? Because he's having trouble recognizing any of them. Does Nobara know a different Yuuji by chance? Fuck, maybe he's really prying, but then he picks up one of the polaroids, brings it close so he can see it better, and his breath immediately catches in his throat, can physically feel his heart pounding his chest—has he always been able to feel his heart this much before? The ringing in his ears goes berserk, and then, time just stops. He looks at the polaroid like it's an open wound, or the knife that caused it. It's them. 

Yuuji and Megumi, with the year 2027 scribbled on the polaroid. They’re sat side by side, Yuuji’s arm thrown over Megumi’s shoulder, with Yuuji grinning wide at the camera while Megumi looks at Yuuji, same way he looks at him now. He sees another polaroid, and another, and another. Yuuji actually sits there and counts them, stops counting when he reaches a hundred. He flips through the photo albums, and it's more photos of them together, some at their apartment, some with Megumi’s family, others in places Yuuji doesn’t even recognize, and they’re all so intimate Yuuji almost feels like he's prying, like he's looking at somebody else's personal belongings, because, well, isn't he? None of this belongs to him anymore. None of it belongs to anyone, except a version of Yuuji that had been erased.

Nobara is in a lot of photos, as well. Roadtrips, birthdays, karaoke bars—they never end. So many photos with the three of them, ice cream melting in their hands, winning arcade games, building snowmen. He realizes his hands are shaking when he put down one of the albums, sees a tear drop fall on the cover of the album when he closes it. He looks down at the abundance of Megumi around him, and gasps for air like it's the first time he's taken a breath. Megumi, Megumi, Megumi. It's you? 

In an ironic, sad way, Yuuji sort of laughs, mid hyperventilation. Of course it's you. How could it not be? When meeting him for the first—or second time, he should say, it had in a weird sense felt like a reunion, of sorts. Yuuji, ever the romantic, figured ah, this is what it's like to meet your soulmate, then?  

"Fuck," he mumbles to himself, to his past. Megumi had erased him too. Yuuji and Megumi erased each other. Everything about it sours Yuuji's mouth, tugs at his heart, makes him want go back in time to have never found out about this. "Why?" he asks himself, frowns as if to conjure his past self, force an answer out of him. He grabs another polaroid. This one isn't dated, but it's a selfie of them, with Yuuji kissing Megumi's cheek. It's funny, in the saddest way possible, but Yuuji has a polaroid now that looks very much like that. Sees it every morning when he goes to his fridge. 

"Yuuji, where the hell— I told you to check the guest room closet like, ages ago, and it's still—" he hears Nobara say from outside her room. Ah, it was the guest room closet. Yuuji makes no sound, but Nobara eventually finds him, comes to a halt as soon as she sees Yuuji sat on the ground, erased memories surrounding him. 

"Shit," Nobara mutters. Shit indeed. She takes really slow steps towards Yuuji, like she's approaching a grizzly bear, cautious and weary. She sits down opposite him, takes the polaroid that's hanging loose in Yuuji's grip. She looks at it, gives it a sad smile before placing it with the others. "Hi." she says, an attempt at bringing Yuuji back down to earth. 

"Hey," Yuuji says back, voice barely there. He's sure he looks very spacey now, not feeling all together there, but he’s starting to breathe normally, at least. Nobara has that effect on him. 

After a few seconds, Yuuji breaks the silence, "Why didn't you tell me?" There’s nothing accusatory in his tone, no hostility either, but he is trying to confirm something.

"You told me not to, Yuuji. You made me promise— God, I'm sorry, you were never supposed to find out like this. But you made me promise that if you and Megumi ever, you know, reconnected somehow, that I shouldn't say anything. That I should let you be." She explains, and it's the answer Yuuji expected. Of course Yuuji would ask that. 

He looks down, nods absently at his memories, "And Megumi? He doesn't know either?" 

Nobara breathes out a laugh, "He made me promise the same thing. Said he didn't want to know." 

“When did we…?” Meet? Break up? Yuuji doesn’t even know what to ask, everything in his head feels so jumbled up and it’s so exhausting to even he speak, like the shock from this has physically weakened him.

“You guys broke up like, a year ago? Yeah. May of last year.”

Yuuji puts his head in his hands, "I don't even know—fuck. So we really— I’ll have to tell him. I have to tell him, don't I? I can't just, be the only one who knows." he says, feels his heart beating in his throat again. Fuck, what's that gonna be like? What if he tells Megumi, and Megumi leaves him, figures out that there must've been a reason to have had erased Yuuji, that they shouldn't be together again? Should it scare Yuuji that he had erased Megumi? Did it really end so badly that they had to come to such a conclusion as to wipe each other out completely, dispose of each other like it had all been a waste?

"Do you know why we did it?" Yuuji tries, grasping at straws.

"I mean, how does that saying go? There's what you said happened, what he said happened, and the truth. I can't know for sure what happened between you guys in the same way you two know—or knew it, but if you want my opinion—"

“Please. It's kind of the only thing I have to work off of."

She sighs, "Right person, wrong time? I don't know. You guys argued a lot towards the end, and I didn't always get the full story. But it wasn't anything like, unforgivable, and if I'm being honest, you guys were idiots. You weren't communicating, weren’t listening to each other. I remember you ranting about that to me back then, Megumi too.” 

Yuuji gulps, “So it wasn’t worth erasing it all then?" 

"I can't answer that for you, Yuuji. You can't even answer that yourself anymore either." 

He holds a polaroid of the three of them. They're in Nobara's living room, big smiles and peace signs all around, blissful and happy. "I'm sorry." Yuuji says sincerely, voice cracking and he's blinking away tears that fall anyway. 

"It's been hard, you know. Seeing you two go through this, and you both grieved it differently. Megumi like, completely shut down. I’ve never seen him get that bad. And then,” she gestures to Yuuji’s memories, “Managing all this after you two got back together, which at first was like, how the fuck? But really, it was only a matter of time, like it was just bound to happen. Then it was stopping you two from figuring it out and all because I had to respect your wishes. But really, I don't know, I guess I just missed you guys." Nobara says, flipping through a photo album, the one that has a lot of pictures of them as a trio. Yuuji's heart aches at the sight. 

"Were we all really close? The three of us?" Yuuji asks, voice quiet and broken. 

Nobara breathes out another sad laugh, her eyes getting misty. "Yeah. We were." 

Yuuji sees a filmstrip of them, holds it in his hands like it’s a fragile baby bird with a broken wing. Nobara is sandwiched between him and Megumi, hitting different poses for each frame, and the borders are ridiculously cheesy, Yuuji can’t help but laugh a little. Can see the memory in his mind except he’s sure he’s only making it up, doesn’t truly know it. He looks at Nobara, thinks about the grief she’s had to go through herself because of them, how he can’t do anything to take it back. How lonely it must’ve felt for her to bear through this.

“How do you think he’ll take it when I tell him?” Yuuji mumbles out, voice shaky. Can see a Megumi in his mind that upon finding out, wants Yuuji out of his life immediately. Megumi who puts together that he erased Yuuji once, so he should erase him again.

“Honestly? Better than you are now.” Nobara says, and it’s not what Yuuji had expected her to say at all. Better? How could Megumi react to this in any positive way?

Yuuji shakes his head, confused look on his face when he asks, “What do you mean?”

She contemplates for a moment, “He’d really driven himself crazy, you know? Back then, when he erased you. Wasn’t sleeping for months, isolated himself from everything. It drove him crazy, not knowing. So really, I imagine he’d be relieved to know.”

Yuuji shakes his head, unconvinced. “But what if—what if he realizes he’s better off? Without me, I mean. Because he would be, wouldn’t he? He had—“ Yuuji is interrupted by a flick to his forehead.

“Hey—what was that for?!”

“Jesus, Yuuji— fuck, you two are really gonna drive me crazy, you know that? Like, I’m gonna start growing white hairs here. For fuck’s sake, you two couldn’t stay separated for like two seconds! It hasn’t even been a year since you two broke up, let alone erased each other. And now you two are— Like, genuinely, how can you even doubt it?” She says everything so fast, Yuuji barely processes any of it. He’s a bit slow on the uptake right now, all things considered.

“I mean I—“

“No. You know what,” Nobara gathers everything that’s been taken out of the box, starts putting it back in there with haste, “Go. Go talk to him now. Just, don’t be stupid about it. Both of you.”

Yuuji looks around her room, sees everything else that still needs packing, “What— like right now? But we—“

“I can take care of the rest myself. Just talk to him, or so help me God I will literally have you both erased from my brain and leave the country. I’m so serious.”

Yuuji knows she’s not serious, but what he’s just starting to really know is just how patient Nobara has been for dealing with the lot of them, how grateful Yuuji is for her. He’s probably going to be spending the rest of his life making it up to her. When he looks hesitant, like the action of standing is too much to bear, she helps him get up, and once they’re both on their feet, Yuuji hugs her so tight it’s almost lung-crushing but it’s what he needs right now. “I really am sorry,” he whispers into her hair, hopes his words carry the weight he feels. It’s all he can give her right now.

“I know, Yuuji. It’s okay. Just go.” She says, patting his back.

On the train going back home, he rests the box of his memories on his lap, and tries not the imagine the worst case scenario. Tries not to picture Megumi leaving, slamming the door and never coming back. Tries not to imagine Megumi looking at him with disdain, sees Yuuji for what he really is: a liability. He’s not sure he’ll be able to stomach it, not even in his mind’s eye.

When he gets home, he sees Megumi on their couch, forgotten about cup of tea on their coffee table, fully immersed in the book he’s reading, with his head resting on his hand. He’s been reading a lot of poetry lately, Rilke in his hands right now that Megumi will tell him all about before they go to sleep later, that is, if Megumi doesn’t leave. Yuuji will ask him to recite something and Megumi will say no at first but then give in and do it anyway, and he’ll recite it so earnestly, so beautifully. With every slow step Yuuji takes into their apartment, he holds onto that version of them a little tighter. Hope for the best, prepare for the worst, right? Except, Yuuji’s not quite sure what he’ll do with himself if the worst actually does happen.

Snapping out of his concentration, Megumi looks up at Yuuji and smiles, starts to say hello but must realize Yuuji’s demeanor because his smile drops, and he’s up on his feet walking towards Yuuji, “Hey, you okay?”

“Hey,” Yuuji breathes out, unable to say anything more lest he breaks, and the silence is how he realizes just how fast his heart is racing. Megumi comes up to him, places his hands firmly on Yuuji’s arms that are holding the box.

“Did something happen?” Megumi’s eyes dart around Yuuji’s face, searching for something, and Yuuji wants to be able to give it to him, to explain better, but everything he should say gets lodged up in his throat. He’s already screwing this up. His vision blurs, but he blinks so that he can look at Megumi better, doesn’t want anything to hinder being able to see him. He’s so beautiful.

“Come sit with me?” Yuuji asks, voice shaky and broken. Megumi’s skeptical, looking at Yuuji with such intense worry, but before he can say anything, Yuuji guides him to their couch, sits him down. They’re facing each other, and Yuuji sets the box on Megumi’s lap.

“Open it. I’m sorry.” Yuuji says, and Megumi’s got that defiant look in his eyes like he wants Yuuji to just explain what’s going on, but then Yuuji grabs Megumi’s hands, sets them on the flaps of the box, “Please.” 

He’s going about this all wrong, he knows. But what’s the proper course of action for this? There’s no guidelines to follow here, no rulebook, and Yuuji’s so scared of saying the wrong thing it practically paralyzes him, and just knowing he has so much to say ends up being the reason he can’t speak. 

Megumi’s eyes don’t leave Yuuji for a while, but then he eventually looks at the box, gives in to Yuuji’s request and opens it. Rifles through it, takes out a photo, and then another. Brings them close to his face and analyzes them slowly. He scratches his hair, pauses for a second and exhales sharply, then rummages through the box again, meticulously combing through it. Yuuji can hardly even look, feeling sick, like he’s about to hurl. He realizes his leg is shaking uncontrollably, and he’s chewing at his lip and fidgeting with his fingers to stop himself from ripping his hair out from his scalp, and it’s so quiet, the only sounds coming from Yuuji’s foot tapping anxiously against the hardwood floor and Megumi flipping through some photos, unreadable expression on his face. Maybe he needs some time alone to be able to process this, Yuuji figures.

“Do you want me to leave?” Yuuji asks, and he’d truly understand it if Megumi said yes.

Megumi looks up at Yuuji and frowns, “What?”

“I mean it’s— it’s a lot to process, I know, so I could just— do you want me to leave you alone?” Yuuji doesn’t think he’s ever struggled this much to put a sentence together, but Megumi seems unfazed by it.

He furrows his eyebrows together, “No? Why would I want that?”

“Because it’s a lot to just, drop on you all of a sudden. I’m sorry.”

Megumi keeps his eyes on Yuuji for a bit longer, and then goes back to looking at the contents of the box. “Still no.”

Like he wasn’t expecting it, Yuuji’s breath hitches, but he still can’t tell what Megumi’s thinking, how he’s feeling. “Okay.” Yuuji mumbles out, goes back to playing with his fingers, but stops when he notices Megumi closing the box, setting it down between them on the couch. It's weird, but Yuuji had expected for Megumi to look at the box as if he had brought him a bomb that’s seconds away from blowing up in his face, but he never gives it that look. He hardly even winces at it. Yuuji doesn’t know what else he had really expected Megumi to do, but it certainly wasn’t for him to laugh.

Megumi looks down, covers his hand with this mouth as he chokes out a laugh, “So it was you?”

Huh? “What?”

“Hah. I mean, I didn’t really know, but I suspected it, in a way. I figured it was impossible, but I—“

“Megumi. What’re you saying?” Yuuji’s voice is hoarse, barely there, and Megumi looks up at him, and that look of disdain that Yuuji was preparing himself for, was expecting the entire time, doesn’t manifest on Megumi’s face at all. No, it’s not even close. Why is Megumi looking at him like he’s not going to leave, like Yuuji isn’t something he’s going to discard? Why does he look like he’s going to stay?

That’s wrong, Yuuji thinks. No, Yuuji knows. He’s never doubted Megumi’s judgement, and based on that logic, pre-procedure Yuuji also wouldn’t have doubted pre-procedure Megumi’s judgement either. Megumi is methodical, always has been. Always has a plan, always has a reason when he does anything. Is thorough with every decision he makes. So, knowing that, he must have had a reason when he erased Yuuji, and Yuuji must have given him it.

“What, it never crossed your mind?” Megumi asks, head tilting.

Crossed my mind? Yuuji thinks, or maybe says out loud because he’s not even sure about anything anymore, just knows his brain is close to short-circuiting from his anxiety alone.

He thinks back to meeting Megumi. How he had told him they’ve shared a past life, how they reincarnated to be together again, how life only started to feel like living when they met. How it had always felt like they’ve known each other all along. Yuuji had meant all of those things, to some extent, but… it didn’t really cross his mind that it was truly Megumi all along. In hindsight, he’s kind of an idiot for that. Did he really know all this time?

Fleetingly, Yuuji recalls the loneliness that came after the erasing, and how it had gone away after meeting Megumi, except it was more like Megumi had perfectly filled the void that was left behind from a past Yuuji didn’t know anymore. The past that’s sitting in front of him right now, looking right back at him, body and soul. 

Yuuji shakes his head, “I mean, I don’t know, maybe? But Megumi,” Yuuji breathes out, feeling a bit helpless, hands still shaking and he wants Megumi to hold them but he’s not sure he’s allowed that, not right now.

“Yuuji?” Megumi replies, and his eyes never leave Yuuji, and it’s just like, where is his reaction, his outburst? Not that Megumi would be the type to react so outwardly like that, but still, nothing? Does he not know what knowing this implies, had he not processed it yet? But he processes things a lot faster than most.

“Wh— doesn’t it— aren’t you scared? Does it not, like, worry you? At all?” Do I not scare you?

“Scared?” Megumi says, and he actually looks confused, Yuuji can’t take it.

“Yes, scared, Megumi. Because you erased me, and I erased you, and that— does that not scare you? Why we chose to do that?”

Megumi takes a moment, really studies Yuuji. “Does it scare you?”

Yuuji’s immediate response is yes, but he lets it sit on his tongue, thinks maybe he should consider it a moment longer. It’s not really the fact that they had erased each other that scares Yuuji. In fact, if he really ruminates on it, there’s no opinion that can be formed on that matter that would hold any weight—he can’t know why he chose to do what he did. He made sure of that when he stamped his name. Nobara was right. But there is fear there; he felt it the moment he opened the box and his first thought was that Megumi would leave him over it, felt it the whole train ride home when he imagined Megumi getting up and slamming the door, felt it when he walked in and saw Megumi reading on their couch and thought it would be the last time he got to have that, because Megumi would then look at Yuuji as someone he once got rid of, and would make the wise choice of doing it again.

“I think I’m just scared of what you think about it.” Yuuji mumbles.

Megumi wrinkles his nose, stitches his eyebrows together, “What I think about it.” He repeats slowly. Yuuji nods, still chewing at his lip he thinks it might start bleeding.

Megumi examines Yuuji for a bit longer before he says, “What I think is that…those versions of us that did what they did aren’t people we can really judge anymore. I can’t know for certain now why I erased you, and you can’t either. What I can do, however,” he grabs Yuuji’s hand with his own, carefully, softly. Like Yuuji is fragile, like Yuuji is his. Yuuji nearly whimpers at the sudden contact. Megumi’s eyes don’t leave Yuuji’s when he presses a faint kiss on Yuuji’s knuckles, “is honor what I want to do right now.”

“What do you want to do?” Yuuji whispers, shivering under Megumi’s touch.

“Like, literally?” Megumi asks, and Yuuji nods. “I wanted us to order some food, maybe some udon. Watch that new David Attenborough documentary while we eat. We never folded yesterdays laundry so we should probably do that, and then I don’t know, do the dishes, take a shower. You had that new lego set you wanted to build, we could watch something and do that, I guess. I wanted to finish my book today so I’ll do that before we sleep.”

Megumi says it all like it’s going to happen, and fuck, maybe it might, because Megumi hasn’t dropped Yuuji’s hand, and he’s still sat on their couch, and neither of them have looked down at the box of their past in a while.

Nevertheless, because Yuuji is still shaken up: “So you’re not leaving?”

Megumi looks at him like he’s just said the most ridiculous thing in the world. “Yuuji. Why would I do that?”

“Because, I know you said you can’t know for certain why we did what we did, and that’s— yeah. I get that. But aren't you wondering if you erased me for a reason?”

Megumi looks a bit hurt when Yuuji asks that, but still keeps holding his hand. “Are you wondering the same about me?”

Weirdly enough, he’s not. Except it’s not really weird at all because Yuuji can’t fathom a version of himself that would care, not even a little. Because it’s Megumi. He’d be with him in any timeline, no matter what. Fuck, just knowing that they got it wrong the first time just makes Yuuji want to be with him even more. Maybe he’s a madman, he wouldn’t doubt it. He doesn’t even think a conjured up past-Yuuji listing all the reasons it all went wrong with Megumi would persuade him.

He’s the most sure he’s felt all day when he says, “No. Not at all.”

“So… why are you so sure that I am? Yuuji, this—“ he looks down at the box, shakes his head, “Respectfully, I don’t care about it. So we erased each other. That doesn’t really matter to me.”

And he says that so easily, like the mere thought that knowing this would ever change them is impossible, or laughable, even.

“No?” Yuuji asks, rubbing circles around Megumi’s hand, just wants to feel his touch.

“No. You, the Yuuji that’s in front of me right now,” Megumi lifts Yuuji’s chin up, makes Yuuji look at him, “You’re what matters. That’s all. It’s simple.” 

Yuuji's eyes widen as Megumi's soften, and then he nods his head, Megumi's finger still holding up his chin. "It's simple," Yuuji repeats, in a whisper, as if to affirm it, and in whats felt like forever, Yuuji feels like he can breathe. Can look at Megumi and not feel like he’s going to leave. Why would he ever leave?

“It’s just, when I saw us in there,” Yuuji gestures his head towards the box, “And realized what it meant, I don’t know. I felt, like, responsible? Or that you’d put two and two together, realize I’m fucked up and leave. I know that’s—you wouldn’t do that,” Yuuji shakes his head, then continues, “You’ve never given me a reason to think that.”

“It doesn’t have to mean anything. Or, I don’t know, if you need it to mean something it can just be: we both fucked it up the first time, so let’s not fuck it up again. Don’t carry that responsibility alone, Yuuji. I would never ask that of you or expect you to do that, ever. And,” Megumi pinches Yuuji’s cheek, “You’re not fucked up.”

Megumi keeps his hand on Yuuji’s face after saying that, and Yuuji melts into his touch. It’s a difficult pill to swallow, what Megumi is saying to Yuuji right now. How kind his words are, which are so contradictory to what Yuuji tells himself. How he looks at him like he’s not a broken thing, and even if he were, shit, Megumi would be the first to collect the pieces. His Megumi would.

Yuuji knows he has a lot of work to do, to undo whatever’s in him that keeps telling him he’s messed up, asking for too much, not giving enough. That he’s a liability. But accepting Megumi’s words now, at face value, is a start. So he nods again, mumbles out an okay that gets Megumi to smile a little, brush his thumb lightly against Yuuji’s temple where a blue light once was is no more.

Yuuji sighs in something like relief—how tangible the love Yuuji feels for Megumi, how real and vibrant it radiates in front of him, right now and perhaps always, even bending backwards through time, and here’s Megumi actually holding it; accepting his love like it isn’t something that can cut wounds and cause hemorrhages.

Because Yuuji thinks—or knows—that he’s allowed to do so, because Megumi is staying and not leaving, Yuuji presses his forehead against Megumi’s, then carefully presses a kiss against his temple, then on his cheek, and Megumi grabs Yuuji from his jaw, brings their lips together. Yuuji’s a bit surprised at first, but leans into it instinctively, kisses him back deeply, before resting his head on Megumi’s shoulder and wrapping his arms around him.

“Do you believe me now?” Megumi says into Yuuji’s hair. Yuuji can’t see it but he knows Megumi’s smiling, can hear it in his voice.

He really is his rock. 

“I do.” Yuuji mumbles into Megumi’s neck. He really, really does.

“Yeah?" Megumi asks, voice soft and gentle, and Yuuji nods, "Okay. Good.” He’s carding his fingers through Yuuji’s hair, and everything about the moment feels so surreal, so dreamlike.

Yuuji lifts his head up slightly, “Did you really know?”

“I mean, Yuuji, you kind of put the idea in my head, saying we shared a past life and all. And the way Kuro and Shiro reacted to seeing you…and then we both know Nobara, but have somehow never heard of each other? It didn’t add up, or actually, it added up too much. But I didn’t want to bring it up because, what if I was wrong and it just scares you off? So I just let it go, told myself it was all in my head. Just wanted to have this.” Megumi’s voice cracks a bit at the end, and Yuuji hugs him tighter, can feel their heartbeats syncing up.

Yuuji hums, “Nobara told me we were real idiots back then.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

They both know they have a lot more to talk about, but until then, they order udon and watch that documentary, but are too wiped out to fold the laundry, so they leave it for tomorrow. When Yuuji’s getting in bed, Megumi is already snuggled up, Rilke in his hand that he was reading earlier. He’s holding the book open with one hand, highlighting something with the other. Megumi does that a lot—has sticky-tabbed and highlighted all his books to hell, and he looks so concentrated and satisfied every time he does it, like he’s struck gold or something. He’s so cute.

“Find something you like?” Yuuji asks when he sees Megumi highlighting something, gets under the covers next to him. Megumi hums back, still focused, serious look on his face that Yuuji loves, “Read it to me.”

Yuuji lays his head on his pillow, facing Megumi who’s face is just barely lit by the lamp next to him. Megumi traces his fingers over what he must’ve just highlighted, glances at Yuuji for a moment before redirecting his eyes to his book, clears his throat before he recites: “‘Do not believe that that abundance of love which was once bestowed on you is now lost. I believe that love remains so strong and powerful in your memory because it was your first deep experience of solitariness and the first inner work that you undertook on your life.’”

They fall asleep shortly after with their limbs all tangled up and fold their laundry in the morning.

May 4th, 2029: 172 Days After

It takes a few days for Yuuji to open the box again, but it’s not coming from a place of avoidance. He just hasn’t felt the need to? It did overwhelm him so much the first time, and Megumi told him there’s no reason to let the box mean anything more than what it is: just a box. Megumi also finds out he has his own box of their past with his sister, Tsumiki. She sends it over with some of Yuuji’s favorite snacks. Megumi receives the box like he's just been handed the daily newspaper or some other ordinary thing, and Yuuji catches himself laughing at the contrast. That’s something he’s come to appreciate about them as a pair: Yuuji needs time to process things while Megumi is just naturally faster at processing his emotions, already knows where he stands and how to act from the get-go, yet they’ll always meet each other in the middle anyway.

“You wanna go through them together?” Yuuji asks, to which Megumi shrugs, looks at Yuuji fondly.

“If you want, we can do that.”

They plop the boxes down on their coffee table, Megumi moving the lego set they had been working on the day before, and start rifling through them, and it’s so strange how just a few days ago doing this had nearly caused an aneurysm in Yuuji but now it’s just like, we look so cute in this one and did my hair really look like that? They find some movie tickets and Yuuji realizes he can’t remember any of these movies anymore, tells Megumi they need to watch them all again. They consequently end up planning like, twenty or more dates saying we need to do this and go here again and they laugh more than they probably should considering their situation but, who’s going to tell them they can’t?

Yuuji reaches for the letters in the box that he didn’t go through the first time, because frankly, the photos alone were too much to bear. He finds more sticky notes from Megumi, because of course he does. He cares so, so much. He ended nearly every single note with love you, and this time when Yuuji reads the words, he feels that he can accept that they were written for him. That he was loved, and is loved now too.

Among the letters in the box that Megumi had written for him, Yuuji finds one and recognizes the handwriting as his own. He frowns at the paper, a small thing, and reads the words on it: psa if you’re reading this it means you’ve found him again, don’t let each other go this time around!!!

Yuuji breathes out a laugh, looks up from his words and to his boyfriend, his Megumi, who is sat across him and didn’t leave. His Megumi, who didn’t get scared when he easily could have and stayed despite everything because he loves Yuuji and tends to him with care like the white chrysanthemums Yuuji got him yesterday and Yuuji knows, with full certainty, that his words will be the easiest advice to ever follow.