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At first, Megumi could not get used to the way Yuuji laughed into their kisses. It frustrated him.
Yuuji’s laughter broke through every attempt at seriousness, undoing it piece by piece. It felt like Megumi was trying to grasp something delicate while Yuuji was too busy lighting it on fire.
Megumi would pull back just a little too sharply, his cheeks warm, pretending he was annoyed when really his pulse was racing for an entirely different reason.
He knew inside that it was because Yuuji was unguardedly, unabashedly happy. Itadori Yuuji did not know how to be dishonest in any way, in the way he moved, in the way he spoke, and now, in the way he loved. It spilled from him without restraint in the way he reached for Megumi, as if there was nothing to fear.
Meanwhile, Megumi had spent his whole life refining his restraint until it was second nature to him. He learned how to measure every output and swallow every excess emotion. So now, he didn’t know what to do with this kind of openness pressed against his mouth.
Instead, he told himself it was irritation. He let himself believe it, right up until the moment the truth unraveled in his hands as Yuuji unraveled his heart more and more with every passing day. Quietly, he accepted that it was, in fact, the ache of being loved too brightly by the human embodiment of sunlight, in a way that almost stings.
Every time Yuuji kissed him, a smile accompanied it. Sometimes it was a quiet curve against Megumi’s mouth, sometimes a breathy laugh that made their noses bump, sometimes an actual giggle that made Megumi roll his eyes even as his heart tripped over itself.
He just let Yuuji’s laughter wash over him like sunlight through an open window and kissed him back steadily, grounding that joy the way a hand at the small of a back does.
For the first time, Megumi realized maybe happiness wasn’t something to chase or to hold still. Maybe it was something you let breathe, or flutter like a butterfly. Something that sounded like the gentle laughter between kisses.
Whenever Yuuji smiled into a kiss, it felt like the first thaw of March, the spring sun breaking through the frost. The very season where Tsumiki would excitedly lean out of the window and declare to the world, “Spring is here!”
Megumi feels it before he even registers it; it cracks him like a mirror. It’s a disarming, yet tender ambush that tears down the careful composure he has built around himself. Every time, it leaves him unmoored, his chest tight and his pulse stumbling.
It shouldn’t matter so much. It’s thoughtless and careless.
It’s everything.
It’s proof that Yuuji’s happiness exists here with him, in this closeness that they have found with each other that feels as delicate and breakable as a spiderweb.
Megumi can physically feel the unbidden affection Yuuji never knows how to hide; he can feel it pulse through him like a second heartbeat.
He feels loved in a way that completely terrifies him. It’s just there, blooming between them and filling the spaces he thought were unreachable. It leaves Megumi feeling stripped bare, as if heart is not only on his sleeve but now directly under the scorching sun.
Beneath the sweetness of it lies the harrowing ache of responsibility, the unbearable thought that Yuuji’s happiness rests in his hands. He breathes shallowly, clings carefully, aches at how easy Yuuji makes it all seem, how a single smile can unravel him and still make him want to be better, just to keep that light alive.
All he can do is hold the moment between his fingers reverently, petrified and entranced at the same time.
I.
On Megumi’s bed, they lay nestled together, the sunlight bathing everything in a mellow golden glow.
Yuuji had leaned in, all pink cheeks and messy hair, and kissed him sweet and unsteady and smiling.
Megumi had meant to kiss him back properly, but Yuuji started laughing halfway through, the sound vibrating against his lips.
“What,” Megumi grumbled against his mouth, “is so funny?”
“You,” Yuuji said, grinning. “You get this little frown every time I kiss you, it’s like you’re concentrating too hard.”
“I am concentrating,” Megumi said flatly. “You’re distracting.”
That only made Yuuji laugh harder. He cupped Megumi’s face with both hands, laughter softening into something breathless and fond. “You’re so easy to piss off.”
Megumi tried to glare at him, but how was he supposed to when Yuuji held his face gently between his warm palms, as if he was meant to be handled with care? It melted away as fast as it came when Yuuji kissed him again, laughter slipping between them.
The kisses turned slower after that, though Yuuji’s smile never really faded. A giggle escaped when Megumi’s fingers caught in his hair, when their teeth clinked by accident, when Megumi muttered a quiet “idiot” with no bite.
By the time they finally pulled apart, Megumi’s lips were flushed, his cheeks faintly pink, and Yuuji was still smiling that wide smile that always made the world feel smaller and safer. It was like him telling Megumi he had nothing to worry about. At that moment, Megumi’s whole world had concentrated down to the breathing, beautiful boy in front of him.
Megumi brushed his thumb over the corner of that smile, pretending to sigh. “You laugh too much when you kiss me.”
Yuuji’s reply came soft, honest, a little shy.
“Yeah. I can’t help it. You make me happy.”
Yuuji giggled into the next kiss too, and Megumi decided he wouldn’t have it any other way.
He could never, ever be the one to tell Yuuji to stop smiling.
He couldn’t, not when he carried Megumi’s happiness in the curve of it. Not when Megumi’s joy was weighted with it. Not when every time Yuuji laughed into his mouth Megumi felt that joy reverberate in his ribcage, a golden ball bouncing and glowing and finally slowing to curl around his heart like a warm, weighted blanket.
II.
He did it every time.
In the blessedly empty dorm kitchen, when it was only the two of them, an extremely grumpy not-a-morning-person Megumi glared blearily at the coffee machine. At the same time, his very-much-a-morning-person boyfriend spun around him with bright energy, dancing his way through making breakfast for both of them.
As Megumi stirred his coffee with his eyes seventy-five percent shut, Yuuji looped an arm around Megumi’s waist, chuckling as Megumi dropped his head onto Yuuji’s shoulder.
“Can we go back to bed?” Megumi’s yawning voice was muffled against Yuuji’s T-shirt.
Yuuji huffed out a quiet laugh. “Sure,” he said, “but not before this.”
He leaned in to press a kiss against Megumi’s lips, laughing and tasting of coffee Megumi isn’t even sure when he got the chance to drink.
III.
After sparring, their breath came fast and sharp in the cold evening air. Sweat clung to their temples, both of them flushed from harsh movement and adrenaline.
Megumi focused on his water bottle, twisting the cap like it required all his attention while Yuuji watched him with something bright and unruly flickering in his eyes, like he’d just thought of something that would win him a million yen.
Before Megumi even had the chance to screw the top of his water bottle back on, Yuuji lunged forward, grabbed his wrist, and kissed him there and then, their noses colliding with the momentum.
Megumi groaned, shoving his face away. “You’re disgusting.”
“You love meeeee,” Yuuji sang, laughter spilling into the words.
Megumi tried to glare, but it came out too soft and too fond to be considered one. He wiped sweat off Yuuji’s forehead with the back of his hand and muttered again, “Disgusting.”
IV.
At the train station, Yuuji had to leave for a mission outside of Tokyo. The announcement overhead crackled through the noise of the crowd.
Megumi was half-buried in his coat, watching Yuuji fumble with his ticket, his grin never dimming even as the wind cut through sharply.
“You’re going to miss your train,” Megumi warned.
Yuuji just looked at him, brown eyes crinkled warmly, and then leaned forward to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth, quick and soft.
“I’m going to miss you,” he said, grinning.
Megumi’s breath caught; his throat worked like he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the right words. Instead, he just shoved Yuuji lightly toward the train door.
“Idiot,” he scoffed, but there was no heat in it. There never was.
As the train pulled away, Megumi found himself touching his mouth, a secret smile forming despite himself.
V.
After a bone-crushingly tough mission, the two curled up together in Yuuji’s room, nodding off as the glow from Yuuji’s nightlight painted them both in pale gold.
Yuuji was half-asleep, his arm heavy across Megumi’s chest. Megumi was on the cusp of settling into his dreams when Yuuji tilted his head and brushed a lazy kiss against Megumi’s jaw, smiling against his skin.
Megumi sighed, eyes still closed. “You can’t even kiss me properly when you’re awake. Don’t start now.”
That made Yuuji stir.
He lifted his head just enough to blink at him, offended. “What do you mean I can’t kiss you properly?”
Megumi cracked one eye open, utterly unimpressed. “You know what I mean.”
Yuuji gaped, indignant. “I do not know what you mean!”
Megumi turned his face toward the pillow, biting back a smirk. “Go back to sleep, Yuuji.”
“Oh, absolutely not.” Yuuji pushed himself up on his elbows, his grin already forming. “That sounded like a challenge.”
Before Megumi could retort, Yuuji shifted, pinning him gently against the mattress with his weight. The look in his eyes was nothing short of gleeful mischievousness, softened by the special warmth of Yuuji-affection that made Megumi’s pulse stutter and still didn’t believe he was lucky enough to deserve.
“Say it again,” Yuuji teased, leaning close enough that their noses brushed. “Go on. Tell me I can’t kiss you properly.”
“Yuuji—” Megumi started, but Yuuji cut him off with a kiss that left no room for argument. It was deeper this time, sure and hungry, laughter humming low in Yuuji’s throat that made Megumi’s breath catch.
Megumi’s hand came up instinctively, curling into Yuuji’s hair. When Yuuji smiled into the kiss, Megumi felt his heart stumble yet again. Maybe it was because he was sleepy, maybe because he was overwhelmed, but either way, his composure shattered as he let out an unexpected, breathless laugh of his own against Yuuji’s mouth.
Yuuji pulled back just enough to look at him, his grin soft and triumphant. “Now who’s not doing it properly?” he murmured, voice stupidly giddy and bright with love.
Megumi tried to glare, but it didn’t hold. His soft laughter still hung between them, more alive than he had ever felt. His voice came out hoarse yet fond.
“You’re ridiculous.”
Yuuji beamed, brushing his nose against Megumi’s.
“Well, you’re laughing,” he whispered, and Megumi could hear the achingly soft affection he was trying to cover up with smugness.
Megumi’s hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers tracing the edge of his hairline. His next kiss was quieter, lingering longer. Yuuji’s eyes fluttered shut, a smile curling against Megumi’s lips again.
When they finally broke apart, Megumi didn’t bother hiding his smile at all. His heart had already surrendered.
(+I)
They didn’t speak on the way back from the mission.
By the time they reached their neighboring dorms, Megumi lingered a moment in the hallway. When it became clear Yuuji wasn’t going to say anything, he turned toward his door, only for Yuuji’s hand to catch his wrist.
Megumi looked back, meeting eyes so dark they bordered on black.
He let himself be pulled into Yuuji’s room, acutely aware of the tremor in Yuuji’s grip. The contact dragged the fear back up his throat, sharp and suffocating.
The door shut behind them, and the silence snapped.
“What the hell were you thinking out there?” Yuuji’s voice cracked through it like a whip.
Megumi’s eyes widened, instinctual anger rising in his throat. “You know I—”
“You didn’t even wait for me to—you could’ve been—” Yuuji snapped.
He stopped himself before the word killed could leave his mouth. His chest heaved, his jaw tight. The anger burned for only a moment before it cracked to reveal something rawer underneath.
Megumi’s shoulders lowered slightly. “Yuuji—”
“I’m sorry,” Yuuji interrupted, his voice quieter now, shaking as he raked a hand through his hair. “I’m not—I’m not mad, I just—” He exhaled, trying to steady himself, but it came out more like a shudder. “I didn’t mean to yell. I just—you scared me.”
Megumi’s expression softened, the fight dissolving from his face. “I know,” he murmured.
Yuuji swallowed hard, stepping closer, his voice breaking. “I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you, Megumi. I really don’t.”
The words landed heavily between them.
Megumi didn’t respond right away. He just stood there, chest rising and falling, eyes softening as he looked at the way Yuuji’s breath trembled, at the faint sheen of tears threatening to form.
Without a word, Megumi reached up and brushed his thumb along Yuuji’s cheek. “Hey,” he said gently. “You didn’t lose me.”
Yuuji’s jaw tightened, his eyes flickering down. “But I could have. You’re always so—”
“Reckless?” Megumi offered, half a sigh, half a smile. “You’ve told me before.”
“This isn’t funny.”
“I’m not laughing,” Megumi said carefully. His thumb lingered on Yuuji’s skin, his touch careful. “You worry too much.”
Yuuji huffed a humorless laugh. “Yeah. Can you blame me?”
“No,” Megumi replied, softer still. “I just…don’t like being the reason you do.”
The faintest sound escaped Yuuji, a laugh and a sob. He stepped forward, closing the distance between them until their foreheads brushed. His voice came out even quieter this time. “You can’t keep scaring me like that.”
“I’ll try not to,” Megumi said quietly.
Yuuji’s hands came up then, sliding to Megumi’s jaw, trembling slightly as he leaned in. The kiss that followed was deep and full of unspent panic and love that had nowhere else to go.
Megumi let him, feeling the weight of it press into him, the heat of it unspooling through every nerve as Yuuji kissed him both like an apology and like he was trying to make sure Megumi was really there.
Megumi, usually the one so composed, felt the rush of it hit him all at once. All of the worry, the exhaustion, the affection, and before he could stop himself, a soft laugh bubbled out of him.
Yuuji pulled back slightly, confused. “What?”
Megumi was still smiling. “You’re scowling,” he chuckled. “Even when you’re kissing me.”
Thrown off, Yuuji blinked at him. “I’m not scowling!”
“You are.”
“I was being serious,” Yuuji shot back.
“I know,” Megumi said, his tone more gentle now. “You don’t have to be. Everything’s okay. I’m okay. You’re okay.”
Yuuji exhaled slowly, his shoulders dropping, all the leftover tension bleeding out. “You scared me,” he repeated, his voice almost childlike. “I thought—”
“I know,” Megumi interrupted. “I’m sorry.”
They stood there for a while, close enough to feel each other’s breathing. Yuuji’s forehead rested against Megumi’s temple, the heat of his skin grounding him.
After a moment, Megumi spoke again. “You’re always smiling, even when everything feels awful,” he whispered. “So when you don’t…” His smile faltered. “It feels wrong.”
Yuuji looked up, blinking. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” Megumi said slowly, “I adore your smile.”
That made Yuuji freeze completely. His lips parted, the pink rising up his neck, his voice barely more than a breath. “You… what?”
Megumi’s hand came up to cup his cheek again, thumb tracing the corner of his mouth. “You heard me.”
Yuuji’s laugh broke through then, small and startled, tears still glinting in his eyes. “You can’t just say stuff like that.”
“You asked.”
“I wasn’t ready for that answer.”
Megumi’s expression softened. “Now you know.”
Yuuji pressed his forehead against Megumi’s again, his voice still trembling slightly. “You’re impossible.”
Megumi tilted his head, his voice dropping low, echoing what Yuuji always sang when he wanted to be annoying. “You love me.”
Yuuji watches him for a long moment, his eyes glassy with something that Megumi wishes he could take away so Yuuji would never have to bear it again. A small, unsteady smile flickers anyway before he whispers, almost helplessly, “Yeah. I do.”
Yuuji’s shoulders were still stiff, his hands still half-clenched at his sides, his pulse thrumming loud enough to fill the otherwise silent room.
Megumi brushed a hand over his arm in a small, grounding gesture. “Come on now,” he said gently, lips quirking. “Give me a smile.”
Yuuji blinked, thrown off. His lips twitched upward despite himself. “You sound like a parent when you say it like that.”
Megumi snorted, unable to help it. “Why on earth would you say that when we literally just kissed?”
That earned him a reluctant grin. Yuuji tried to hold it back, but it tugged at the corners of his mouth anyway, the faintest trace of amusement cutting through the heaviness in his eyes.
“There it is,” Megumi said softly, fondness slipping through every syllable.
Yuuji huffed. “You still sound like one.”
Megumi sighed dramatically and raised a fist, knocking it lightly against the top of Yuuji’s head.
“Ow—hey!” Yuuji protested, rubbing the spot even though it hadn’t hurt. “I’m the one who’s mad here!”
Megumi arched a brow, deadpan. “I thought you weren’t mad?”
Yuuji groaned, the tension leaving him all at once as his head dropped against Megumi’s shoulder. “I wasn’t,” he mumbled, voice mushed into his shirt. “But now I’m confused.”
Megumi’s laugh came quietly, low in his throat. “You’ll live.”
For a long moment, they stayed like that: Yuuji breathing against his neck, Megumi’s hand moving slowly up and down his back. The air around them shifted; the anger was gone now, replaced by something lighter.
Yuuji’s voice broke the quiet again. “I really can’t ever be mad at you,” he mumbled.
Megumi just chuckled again, the sound vibrating through his chest, filling him with a warmth only Yuuji could bring.
Yuuji shifted slightly, his half-whining still muffled against Megumi’s shoulder. “You sure are smiley when I’m stressed, you know that?”
That made Megumi laugh harder, his shoulders shaking as he tried to hold it back. Yuuji could feel the tremor of it against his chest, and despite himself, the sound pulled something in him loose.
He lifted his head to look at him, at Megumi’s face softened by laughter, eyes crinkled, lips parted in that rare, unguarded smile. For a heartbeat, Yuuji forgot to breathe.
The tension that had been knotting in his chest since the fight finally unraveled. His own smile came unforced this time, real and as golden as Megumi loved it.
Megumi’s laughter faded when he saw it, replaced by soft wonder.
“There it is,” he whispered again, softer this time.
Yuuji’s eyes gleamed, the corners of his mouth still curved. “Yeah,” he said quietly. “Guess you were right.”
Megumi tilted his head. “About what?”
Yuuji smiled wider, his voice still fragile but full of honeyed warmth. “That I should smile.”
Megumi’s own smile softened, eyes bright with something unspoken. “Keep doing it then.”
They were still close, smiles ghosting between their lips. Yuuji leaned in again, still grinning, and Megumi met him halfway, but their steps tangled, shoes tripping on air.
“Wait—” Megumi started, already too late.
They stumbled backward together in a clumsy tangle of limbs and muffled laughter until the backs of Megumi’s knees hit the bed, both falling in a heap with Megumi landing half beneath Yuuji.
There was a beat of stunned silence. Then Yuuji burst out laughing, head dropping against Megumi’s shoulder, the kind of laugh that shook his whole body and made Megumi’s chest warm just hearing it. “Okay,” Yuuji managed between breaths, “that was definitely your fault.”
“My fault?” Megumi’s voice, muffled under Yuuji’s shoulder, sounded indignant, but there was a laugh buried in it. “You’re the one who started walking straight through me.”
“You were in the way!”
“I was literally standing still.”
Yuuji lifted his head, his full-bodied grin softening. The laughter ebbed out of him, leaving only the quiet hum of the cicadas beyond the window and the warmth of Megumi beneath him.
“Megumi,” Yuuji said in a tiny voice. “I’m sorry for snapping earlier.”
Megumi blinked, caught off guard by the sudden seriousness. “You don’t need to apologize.”
“I do,” Yuuji insisted, his eyes dropping. “I shouldn’t have yelled. I just—I was scared. You—you could’ve…” His throat worked around the word he didn’t finish. “And I didn’t know what I’d do if—”
Megumi reached up, his hand meeting Yuuji’s cheek. “You have nothing to be sorry for,” he said softly. “You love me, and you care. That’s not something to apologize for.”
Yuuji exhaled shakily, his shoulders relaxing as he leaned into the touch. “You always say the right thing, you know that?”
“I’m not sure that’s true,” Megumi said, smiling faintly.
“You do,” Yuuji said quietly. “You make it feel… easier, like I can breathe again.”
Megumi’s thumb stilled for a second, then resumed its slow, careful motion. “I’m just saying what I mean.”
“Yeah,” Yuuji let out a sigh, fondness slipping through. “That’s the problem.”
Megumi glanced at him, amused. “Problem?”
“You don’t even try,” Yuuji shakes his head. “It just…comes out like that.”
Megumi huffed again, almost a laugh. “You’re strange.”
“Only with you,” Yuuji replied.
Megumi tried to fight it, but his lips twitched.
Yuuji’s grin widened. “There it is.”
“There what is?”
“Your smile.”
And Megumi’s smile bloomed wider still, and he swatted Yuuji’s head lightly with the back of his hand. “You’re so weird,” he repeated.
Yuuji’s voice dropped, low in reverence and laced with that same teasing warmth. “You’re beautiful when you smile.”
Megumi’s expression softened instantly. “So are you.”
The kiss that followed was giddy and full of relief. When they finally broke apart, they were still smiling, still clinging to each other like roots tangled in the same soil, safe and laughing quietly into the calm.
Megumi caught his gaze again, laughter still swimming in his eyes, and said without thinking, “Smiling’s easy around you.”
Yuuji’s breath caught, that one sentence undoing him completely as everything else Megumi said did. “You can’t just say stuff like that,” he whispered, as his cheeks turned peony pink.
“Oh, so only you can?”
Yuuji let out another fragile laugh, shaking his head as he buried his face in Megumi’s chest. “No,” he murmured. “I just don’t think I’ll ever get used to it.”
“Well, you'd better get used to it.”
Yuuji leaned into him, a soft exhale leaving his lips. “I…” The words caught in his throat. He pressed closer instead, like that was answer enough.
Megumi didn’t pull away. His hand came up, steady at the back of Yuuji’s neck, holding him there.
“Yeah,” Yuuji finished under his breath, almost a confession. “I think I could.”
Megumi’s thumb brushed slowly along his skin, grounding and calm. “Good.”