Chapter Text
It all started when Yuuji Itadori ate that stupid finger.
That stupid. fucking. FINGER.
God, he was so weird and such an idiot and so stupid and Megumi Fushiguro loved him so much.
Itadori, at the time, smiled sheepishly when Sukuna stopped possessing him. Fushiguro, also at the time, scowled at him, not knowing his feelings had blossomed deep within his heart.
Now, a month after that event happened, Fushiguro has realized—long ago, by the way—that he’s deeply in love with Itadori. Well, “deeply in love” is a bit of a stretch, but Fushiguro definitely liked him. At least a little bit. Maybe.
As Fushiguro lay on his bed, trying to figure out exactly when he started liking Itadori more than a friend, the subject of his swirling thoughts bursts through the door. Fushiguro jerks up, now sitting up straight–maybe the straightest he’s ever sat in his life. Itadori grins a toothy grin, and Fushiguro feels his heart beat faster. Hopefully, he’s not blushing.
“Hey, Fushi!” Itadori cheers as he kicks off one of his uwabaki, which almost hits Fushiguro in the face. He dodges and throws the uwabaki back at Itadori, and it hits him on the shoulder. Fushiguro grimaces as Itadori clutches his shoulder, groans, and doubles over in pain.
Fushiguro, although deeply in love—I mean—infatuated (totally) by Itadori, tries to stifle his laugh. “Oh, crap, Itadori, sorry.”
Itadori stands back up straight and smiles his toothy smile again. “It’s okay!” He exclaims while giving Fushiguro a thumbs up. Can that guy ever not be happy?
While Fushiguro is staring at the wall, thinking of the pink-haired menace that he likes so dearly, Itadori interrupts his thoughts by saying, “Can I sit down?”
Fushiguro’s eyesight darts up and Itadori is standing over him, looking directly into his soul. If Fushiguro wasn’t blushing earlier, he definitely was now. Itadori smiles again, making him look less like a creep. Fushiguro can’t help it when the corners of his lips slightly tilt up at the sight, Itadori looking so silly.
Fushiguro nods, then Itadori sits directly next to him, getting all up in his space. Fushiguro will never admit it, but in times like this, he feels happiest. Other than shopping with the trio, Kugisaki complaining and Itadori being a shopping cart, moments like these are Fushiguro’s favorites.
Itadori takes a deep breath and swiftly asks, “Can I ask you something?” His words partially slur, which makes it slightly harder to understand him.
“‘Course,” Fushiguro answers. When could he say no to Itadori? He might as well ask Fushiguro to cook him a five course meal and he would do it. Not saying that he would do a good job, but he would do it.
Itadori turns to Fushiguro, a look of deep focus, anxiety, and determination in his eyes. Fushiguro wants to shrink from how piercing Itadori’s stare is. He wants to shrivel up. Is it this bad?
Itadori looks away a couple times before grinning and running out the door. “Gotta go!” He shouts.
“That was so weird,” Fushiguro thinks as he shuts the door without looking outside. When he turns back around, he notices that Itadori left his uwabaki. He opens the door again and peeks his head out to see Itadori curled up depressingly in a ball. As he lay on the floor, Fushiguro thinks that Itadori looks like a kicked (cute) puppy.
Itadori turns his head slowly then immediately sits up straight on the ground, his back leaned against the wall. Fushiguro raises an eyebrow. “You good?”
Itadori smiles. “Yep!” His gaze shifts to his uwabaki and grabs them, polite but strong. Fushiguro didn’t know that was possible until now. “Thanks for my shoes!” Itadori smiles before scrambling off of the floor and into his dorm.
Fushiguro just sighs and pops his head back into his dorm.
“What was that about?”