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“Careful,” Yuji warns as he finds him, placing his hand on Megumi’s back when he sways, downing another shot.
“S’fine–” He shouts, dropping the dixie cup. He stumbles sideways, almost tripping over a knocked barstool. He looks up dazedly, like he’s confused there’s a hand clutching his elbow, keeping him from listing too far.
“You should sit down,” Yuji tells him, but the music surges with a bass drop at the same time.
“What?” Megumi yells, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand.
“Let’s go sit down,” he repeats.
But he doesn’t get a response. Instead, Megumi winces as the spinning LED fixtures flash a bright ray of purple straight into his glazed eyes.
“Come on–”
“No–” He pulls out of Yuji’s grasp, staggering into a group behind him that’s too drunk to pay him any mind. He falls in slow motion, barely catching himself on a palm and an elbow twisted behind him.
“Shit.” Yuji’s quick to crouch in front of him, lightly nudging some passerbys out of the way. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?” He gulps.
“Do you wanna go home?” He tries to ask, but cheers erupt, drowning out his voice. He looks up to see something going on with beer pong, and someone trying to crowd surf; nothing that concerns him.
Megumi shifts like he’s going to stand up, but he slips and drops back down.
“Here.” Yuji offers his hands. Megumi takes them instinctively, then looks around, disoriented, as he seems to realize he’s upright again.
“It’dori?” His knees give out, and Yuji has to catch him under the arms.
“M’sorry–” He tries to stand up, but he quickly falls against Yuji again. “S’rry–”
“It’s okay, man.” Yuji shifts to hook Megumi’s arm over his shoulders, properly taking on his weight. He pats him on the back.
“Let’s, uh–” He looks around. It’s pretty packed in here and most of the seating has been absconded or toppled. “Let’s go outside, yeah?”
“Mkay…” Megumi drops his head on his shoulder.
“Try not to fall,” Yuji suggests as he drags him through the dance floor, which is an effective shortcut, but probably not worth it.
There’s soda on in a half-melted ice bucket and discarded blunts next to a small crowd of stoners. Yuji swipes one of the former as they pass by.
He one-handedly lowers Megumi onto a curb onto the porch’s front steps, but he can’t accurately modulate his muscles, so he drops harder than Yuji meant for him to, trying to tug him down with him, as he clutches his shirt with surprising strength.
At least it’s calmer out here. There’s not so many people.
“Sorry.” Yuji sits down beside him, catching him by the shoulder as he slumps forward. He helps him lean against him instead, rubbing up and down his spine as he cracks the can’s tab with his teeth.
“How much did you drink?” He asks, offering the ginger ale. “You could still stand the last time I saw you.”
“Mm…” Megumi tucks his nose into Yuji’s neck.
“Okay, well–” He sighs, lightly stroking the back of Megumi’s hair. “Don’t wander off next time.”
“I d’dn… w’nder off…” He mumbles.
“You weren’t where I left you.” Yuji taps the soda to his forearm, and opens his mouth to gently scold him some more, but a couple of women materialize behind them. There’s plenty of room to get down the stairs, but with how unsteady they look as they giggle, he redirects his attention to shifting Megumi and himself out of the way as best he can.
“Y’frien’s sooo cute…” One of them comments, sloppily patting Yuji’s shoulder as the other one tries to pull her away.
“C’n I– like… number ‘r s’mthn…” She babbles, swinging her high heels around on two fingers. “I w’nna… yeah…”
“That’s okay,” Yuji says awkwardly. “Maybe another time.”
“We’re goin’...” The other one yanks her away, and they disappear down the path, whispering, then cackling about something.
Megumi seems blissfully unaware of his surroundings, which is actually a little concerning.
“Hey.” Yuji cautiously jostles him. “You there?”
“Hm?” He looks up at him, gaze unfocused.
“Good.” Yuji pats his upper arm. “Stay awake for now, and try to hydrate.”
“S’rry…” Megumi coughs weakly as a cloud of cigarette smoke wafts by.
“Drink,” Yuji insists. “It’ll probably help if we get your blood sugar up too.”
“Wh’s in it…?” He squints at the can.
“It’s just ginger ale,” Yuji tells him.
“I mean wh’t alc’hol…” He lifts his arm slightly, like he’s going to take it, but then opts to drop his hand on Yuji’s thigh instead, head bobbing like he can’t fully hold it up.
“It’s just ginger ale,” Yuji says again.
“Mmno…” Megumi declares into his shoulder. “S’no point…”
“You’re gonna feel bad enough in the morning as is,” he counters. “I’d really like it if you had something other than tequila in you.”
“Y’would?” He asks hoarsely.
“I would.” Yuji hugs him a little closer as he shivers. It’s decently warm for midnight, in his opinion, but Megumi runs colder and he must have lost his jacket somewhere inside.
“Hmmkay…” He acquiesces. “M’sorry…”
“Don’t be.” Yuji brings the drink to his lips, letting Megumi wrap uncoordinated, trembling fingers around his hand, before he cautiously tilts it and helps him take a sip.
Megumi suddenly squeezes his leg, which is all the warning he gets before he’s coughing and spitting out half the mouthful onto the cobblestones. He separates and doubles over.
Yuji quickly sets the can down and claps him on the back a few times with one hand, keeping him from faceplanting with the other.
“Wr’ng- pipe–” He chokes out.
“Sorry,” Yuji murmurs.
“F’rgot… I–” Megumi wheezes. “I f’rgot t’swall’w…”
“Oh.” He smiles. “Yeah, you gotta do that.”
There’s a small, sharp noise, then a shuddering inhale.
“M’sorry,” Megumi recoils. “I… I jus’...”
“Oh– No- It’s okay–” Yuji redoubles his hold on him before he can curl in on himself so hard he falls off the step.
“I st’ll… I…” His breath catches. “M’tryin’ n-not to…”
“Not to what?” Yuji frowns. He tugs on his shoulder, urging him to sit up, but he just turns away, overdoing the angle and bumping the side of his knee on one of the handrail’s metal supports. He hardly seems to notice though.
“A lotta st’ff…” Megumi rasps.
Creases deepen on Yuji’s forehead. He replaces his hand on Megumi’s back, if only to keep him stable, sliding his thumb back and forth.
“M’rlly… trying n’t to cry–” He says thinly, consonants squeaking like a rusted hinge.
“It’s okay,” Yuji whispers. “I’ve seen you cry before.”
“I kn-now…” He sniffs.
“What’s wrong?” He asks. “Did something happen?”
Megumi slowly shakes his head, which throws him off balance and he goes reeling to the left, flailing in slow motion, while the rest of him moves at a regular pace.
Yuji jumps to his feet and catches him before he can crack his head open, knocking over the can of ginger ale. He sits him back down on the lowest step this time, which is less comfortable for his height, but feels like a safer decision.
He kneels before him, carding his fingers through his hair, while his other hand holds him in place by the waist.
Megumi looks at, or maybe slightly past him, as he lifts his head. He loosely grabs Yuji’s elbow for balance. There’s snot running over his philtrum and onto his lips, mixing with sugary residue. His eyes are red and wet, pupils too dilated.
“I’m tryn’not t-tell you how m’ch I like y-you…” He confesses suddenly. His chest contracts with a silent, airless sob, gaze falling to the floor as his face scrunches up.
“I know,” Yuji says, pulling him into a hug. “Don’t worry about it.”
Megumi takes in a loud, poorly stifled gasp, then coughs and pants into his shoulder as he drops his chin on his collar bone.
“Why don’ y’tell me if y’kn’w s’much…” He complains hoarsely.
“Uh...” Yuji replies, cheeks warm. “I think you usually know too, or like… how I feel, I guess, but you’re kinda in your head right now.”
Megumi makes a sad sound, burying his face in his collar and clutching handfuls of his shirt again.
“You’re…” Yuji exhales, considering. “I wouldn’t really be me, if I didn’t have you–”
“Itadori,” he interrupts with surprising clarity.
“Yeah?” Yuji pulls away slightly, but Megumi’s clinging too tightly for him to properly peer down at him.
“Id’nfeelgd…” He mumbles.
“Hm?”
“I don’feel good–”
“Oh- Oh shit, okay, come on–” Yuji hauls him off the steps and walks backwards, dragging him over to the bushes as he tries and fails to move his legs in any helpful manner.
Megumi scrambles to weakly push him away, then drops to his knees so hard it makes Yuji cringe.
“It’s okay,” he soothes, crouching behind him. He gently brushes his longer stands of hair out of his face. “It’ll be over soon.”
Megumi breathes heavily. The prickly ends of holly leaves scratch his cheek as he lurches over the soil, just for his next expiration to hitch, but bring up nothing besides a soft groan.
Yuji moves his hand in circles between his shoulder blades, sympathetically stiffening as his spine arches with the threat of a dry heave, but it doesn’t come to fruition, leaving him swallowing convulsively.
They both go still when he leans forward again, sans Yuji moving a palm to his sternum, for fear he’ll fall face first. They’re trapped in that position for a solid thirty seconds, before Megumi spits and rolls back clumsily on his heels.
“Do you feel any better?” Yuji asks as he wipes his mouth with the side of his thumb.
He wrinkles his nose and shakes his head.
“Aw, sorry.” He squeezes his shoulder. “You think it’ll hold off for a bit though? I wanna get you home, but not til you’re feeling up to–”
“Wh’tever…” He flops onto his side, head in Yuji’s lap. “M’tired…”
“I could carry you, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to take the train back,” he determines. “Do you think Maki’s still awake? You told her you were going out, right?”
“M’ybe…” He wraps his arms around his temples, hiding his face. “T’ld her ‘was w’th you…”
“But not that you were at a house party?” Yuji raises his eyebrows.
“Th’s your thing…” He mutters. “M’just… wh’tever…”
“Well, there’s some parts of it you enjoy,” Yuji says as he pulls out his phone. He was never really a partier, even if he was popular to get invited somewhat frequently. He only still goes to them since Megumi likes to drink now, and he’ll overdo it if someone’s not with him.
“Do you think she’ll mind if I ask her to pick us up– Or, you, at least–”
“I wan’you t’come…” He interrupts. “I… don’ leave…”
“Sure.” Yuji smiles. “I’m worried she’ll be mad though– I mean, I know she will be, but she’ll show up, right?”
“Eh…” Megumi lets out a small breath of wobbly laughter. “Y’can t’ke a punch…”
“Very reassuring.” Yuji rolls his eyes, but still lightly rubs his hand up and down his arm, keeping him warm.
“She’s n’my mom…” He adds. “... ac’s like a f’ther though… like nothin’ ev’n happen’d ‘n I d’dnt scr’w up…”
“Let’s not talk about that right now.” Yuji scrolls through his contacts. “We’ll just worry about getting home for now, okay?”
“Y’re a good p’rson…” Megumi whispers. “My f’vorite p’rson…”
“Yeah.” He holds his phone up to his ear as it starts to ring. “You’re my favorite too.”