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The whole world can be summed up in a single afternoon-sun-warmed dorm common room on a Thursday in April.
Nobara is asleep, mouth open and drool seeping into the shoulder of Yuuji’s shirt, posture terrible and legs akimbo, one socked foot pressed between two couch cushions and the other slung off to the side with her ankle on the arm of the couch, arms crossed and hands tucked into her armpits. The fabric of her hoodie is soft against Yuuji’s arm where he’s got it slung over her shoulders, holding her close and thumb pressing into her shoulder right where her pulse passes by the joint so he can feel it going ba-thump ba-thump ba-thump under her skin. Her cursed energy is everywhere, uncontrolled, settling like old stirred-up dust in the room in her sleep, mingling with his and Megumi’s as easy as anything. It’s familiar, friendly, and Yuuji is watching it with the space behind his eyes like it’s a lifeline. She’s tucked under his arm, the long point of contact between them easy and warm, she’s asleep and she’s safe and she’s comfortable.
On his other side is Megumi, a little bit taller so he’s kind of curled down and his nose is half mashed into the side of Yuuji’s throat, and his every breath is puffing softly against Yuuji’s clavicle and collarbone every time he exhales, and he has one hand locked in a sleepy hold in the front of Yuuji’s shirt, the other long-since dropped on Yuuji’s thigh. Where Nobara is draped and slung and spread out in her comfort, Megumi is curled up like a bug, legs folded up against him, quads pressed to his chest and both socked feet tucked under Yuuji’s hamstring as if they’d been cold and the warmest place for them to be was the space trapped between Yuuji’s leg and the couch. He, too, has Yuuji’s arm around him, and Yuuji has greedily held him tighter since he fell asleep, elbow bent down his back and hand gently cupping the side of his neck, the pads of his fingers brushing over his carotid in a rhythmic, too-intimate up-down motion. The pulse there is out of sync with Nobara’s but no less comforting for its presence, and the cursed energy curled around Megumi like a blanket woven over his body is equally so, and Yuuji traces the outlines of it until it’s an unconscious thought.
They are asleep on him, have been for a while, and on the laptop screen in front of them the credits for some American movie Nobara had wanted to watch were paused and staring at the three of them. Yuuji had paused it earlier, reaching out and nudging the space bar with his socked toe once he’d noticed Nobara was asleep — she hadn’t been subtle, had smushed herself closer and muttered something about napping twenty-odd minutes before she was properly out — and Megumi, next to him and half asleep himself, had huffed a rare laugh and leaned his cheek on Yuuji’s shoulder and told him:
“You’re bold, Itadori, I’ll give you that.”
Then Yuuji had put his arm around him too and Megumi had fallen asleep pressed against him.
They’d watched the movie but to be honest they’d barely been paying attention; Nobara was pointing out every pretty woman in every scene, Yuuji was nodding along, Megumi was muttering a snide remark about the characters’ intelligence (or, most commonly, their lack thereof) anytime anyone did anything at all, Nobara and Yuuji would immediately jump on the bandwagon, and then ten minutes later the plot had moved on and none of them had any idea what was happening because they’d been distracted riffing off of how stupid the characters were. Yuuji couldn’t give you a summary of the plot if you asked, and he’s sure neither could Nobara or Megumi, but he couldn’t manage to make himself care because this moment, with his best friends- and ‘friends’ didn’t seem strong enough but it was the only word he could think of so it would have to do- asleep and warm and comfortable and safe with him is all he could ever want. Nobara’s eye patch is long-abandoned on the coffee table, and Megumi’s shoulders are free of the persistent tension he carries like he’ll fail if he lets it go, and Yuuji loves them so fiercely they it doesn’t matter his right arm is prickling with the beginnings of pins and needles because of the angle he’s holding Megumi or that his side aches from where it’s trapped half under Nobara’s weight (new injury, healing, he’ll be fine) because they’re both against him. He’s holding the people who are most precious to him in this life, and nothing else matters.
The space of his chest cavity has never felt so warm, and the empty gouge mark inside him somewhere where he’d carried Sukuna’s presence was almost warmed over, and he’s holding his friends. They’re all alive. They’re all safe. They’re all still there.
Eventually, though, the pins and needles get worse and he has to shift his arm just slightly. He does it slowly, carefully, how he would if he needed to shift his legs while a cat was curled up on his lap, as gently and subtly as possible so it wouldn’t get angry at him and leave.
Despite his efforts, Megumi shifts. Yuuji feels his soft, dark eyelashes brush against his jaw. Something desperate crooks in his gut, somewhere around his diaphragm and he squeezes his hold on Megumi before he can stop himself because don’t leave don’t leave don’t leave stay here it’s okay stay here-
“Mm…” it’s a sleep-softened sound that reminds Yuuji of the soft look Megumi gives him when they wake up on Sunday mornings together and they’re not going to talk about the bed sharing or the comfort or the something that lives inside them that makes it feel like two pieces of a puzzle. The moments where Megumi will find Yuuji’s wrist and tuck Yuuji’s hand over the bare strip of skin over his waist where his sleep shirt has rucked up at some point in the night, and Yuuji will wonder whether there was a god and if he was real whether he made Yuuji’s hands in order to perfectly fit right over Megumi’s hip bones. Megumi shifts, but doesn’t move, no alarm shifting his cursed energy — it rippled whenever he was getting on his guard — and he nosed into Yuuji’s throat, so tender Yuuji felt his mouth go dry and his stomach do a flip. “Yuuji?”
“Sorry,” it’s instantaneous, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”
And then Megumi smiles against his carotid and he whispers, “‘s ok, I sleep light.”
He doesn’t, is the thing, he doesn’t sleep light. Megumi sleeps like the dead, like he’s never been so comfortable in his life when he and Yuuji share a bed, like a housecat stretched out on its favourite rug in a summer sunbeam, like the world is soft and he trusts it and he knows he’ll find Yuuji there in the morning. When he sleeps next to Yuuji, under Yuuji’s blankets, limbs tangled with Yuuji’s, one of Yuuji’s hands in his hair or over his waist or tucked up across his front with his back snug against Yuuji’s chest- when he sleeps with Yuuji, he sleeps like sleep has never been an issue, like falling asleep there is the easiest decision to ever make, as if it was never even a decision to begin with, like he knew Yuuji would hold him no matter how he thrashed or wept or screamed, like he knew Yuuji would always set an extra alarm so they could enjoy the morning, like he knew Yuuji would wake up with him eighty times in a night if that’s what it took, even if Megumi never remembered waking up in terror the next morning. But Megumi, despite how perceptive he usually is, has no idea.
“Can go back to sleep,” Yuuji tells him, because telling him all that isn’t on the table (yet).
“We should clean up,” Megumi says, but he doesn’t move. Yuuji feels his eyelashes brush his skin as he closes his eyes.
“Probably.” Yuuji agrees.
Neither of them move, and Megumi is asleep again after wiggling one hand between Yuuji’s back and the couch.
A moment later: “What were you two lovebirds talking about?”
Nobara is awake, but she’s clearly not enthused about the fact. Her eyes are still shut and she’s shifted her face around Yuuji’s shoulder to wipe the drool off her cheek and she’s curled further into his side, his arm shifting over her shoulders to hold her properly. Her hair is sticking up a little and Yuuji isn’t going to tell her because she’s also a little flushed from how warm she must be in her hoodie and she’s curling into his side and goddamnit she’s his best friend and she’s beautiful.
“Telling him to go back to sleep,” Yuuji says to her.
“Mn, good,” Nobara’s brow scrunches together and she adjusts under Yuuji’s shoulder. “Why w’s he awake in the first place?”
“I woke him,” Yuuji says.
“Fucker,” Nobara mumbles, “Let him sleep.”
And with that, she’s out again too.
Yuuji fights not to laugh. Then he lets his head fall back against the back of the couch and he stares at the ceiling. The muscles in his face are sore, sore in that pulling way that tells you you’ve been smiling too hard for longer than you’re used to, and he’s so happy about it it’s hard to articulate.
The whole room is browned-buttery-golden in the golden-hour sun streaming in through the window, caressing Megumi’s cheekbone and casting him in bronze and opal and he’s so gorgeous it’s hard to fathom. The same sunlight turns Nobara’s hair to flax and copper. The air is warm, thick with sleep, and the whole room is quiet save for breathing and Megumi’s occasional, tiny sleep noise. Not quite snores, more like the sound a stray cat makes upon curling up on its first comfortable cushion, something quiet and comfortable and so painful to that shiny, new thing in Yuuji’s chest. He closes his eyes and lets himself smile.
He can’t sleep like this, his head is too far back and his neck is going to ache like hell if he tries. Eventually, he’ll put his cheek on Megumi’s hair and breathe in the smell of his conditioner – because of course he uses conditioner religiously – and close his eyes to doze there. Soon, he’ll relax in his hold on the two of them to let himself sleep, because the only way he can sleep sitting up is if he goes lax. At some point, he’ll let himself sleep too.
For now, though, Yuuji just basks in the moment and lets it stretch on and on like pulled taffy, sugar-sweet and soft and melting in his mouth. He’ll sleep later. He’ll mull over the affection he holds for Nobara later. He’ll try to figure out what being in love feels like and what it means when Megumi sleeps best in his arms later.
It had been a long week. And everything he was fighting for was right there.