Archive of Our Own

“We’re going to be late,” Fushiguro called out while Yuji was getting ready in the hotel room bathroom.

“I know!” Yuji shouted back, exasperated. He couldn’t get his hair to look good. He combed through it again hastily, but it just ended up looking flat and oily. The whole thing was severely pissing him off. 

Fushiguro came to stand in the bathroom doorway, leaning against the doorframe nonchalantly and looking down at his phone. “Okkotsu and Inumaki are already there.”

Yuji sighed in frustration, wetting his hands in the sink and running them through his hair for the sixth time. “They’re always on-time. I bet Nobara isn’t even close to being ready.”

Typing something into his phone without looking up, Fushiguro said, “Actually Maki said they just left the mall.”

Yuji let out an exasperated breath, whipping around abruptly to face his boyfriend. “You don’t have to be so pushy!”

Fushiguro finally looked up from his phone, eyebrows woven together in confusion. “I’m not.”

“You are! You’re rushing me.” Blood rushing hot behind his forehead, Yuji turned back to the mirror and glared at Fushiguro in the reflection.

A shadow passed over Fushiguro’s expression, his eyes flashing. “Why are you raising your voice at me?” 

Yuji messed up his hair and tried to style it again with styling powder, fuming. His hair was refusing to cooperate, so of course he would be in a bad mood for the rest of the evening, and of course they were going to be late on their plans on the last night in London. And of course it was all Yuji’s fault, and Fushiguro was making it very clear that that was the case. 

“I’m sorry, okay?” Yuji snapped, turning to face him again. “I’m sorry I look like shit, I’m sorry I’m ruining the vacation plans, and I’m fucking sorry it’s all my fault that we’re going to be late because of my hair. You can tell them that, by the way—” he pointed directly at Fushiguro— “and you can all laugh at me.”

Fushiguro blinked. “This is about your hair?” All anger was gone from his face as he pocketed his phone. “You’re yelling at me because you’re mad that you can’t style your hair properly?”

“I’m not yelling!” Yuji put his hands in his hair and tugged at it frantically. “ARGH! I should just shave my head again.”

Fushiguro’s expression softened with understanding. “Yuji, stop trying to tear your hair out. You look fine.”

“I don’t! And I don’t want to show up to a gay bar in London looking like this.” Yuji gestured with frustration to his face. 

“Then wash it in the shower instead of trying to restyle it with your hands.”

Hr gripped the edge of the sink, eye twitching. “Then we’ll be even more late, and you’re just going to keep shoving that fact in my face.”

“I won’t, Yuu.” Fushiguro walked over to stand behind Yuji. “I didn’t mean to sound like I was rushing you. It’s not that big of a deal, okay? Just a fun evening out with friends.” He carefully put his hands on Yuji’s waist. “Come on, let’s wash your hair out and start again.”

Yuji clicked his tongue in frustration. “Then I’m going to have to change out of these clothes again.”

“You won’t. I’ll help you.” Fushiguro wrapped his fingers around Yujii’s wrist and gently tugged his hand down from where Yuji had started pulling at his hair again. “Calm down, Yuu. It’s okay. C’mere.”

Yuji huffed, crossing his arms over his chest as Fushiguro led him to the tub and took the showerhead down off its stand. Fushiguro instructed him to kneel over the tub and turned on the shower head, drenching Yuji’s head while holding a hand to his neck to prevent the water from dripping down to his clothes. He shampooed and conditioned Yuji’s hair and rinsed it out again.

“Stay there a second,” Fushiguro said, going to grab a towel to wrap around Yuji’s head. “Alright, you can stand back up.”

Yuji took the towel and started rubbing at his hair while Fushiguro went to take out the blowdryer, plugging it in.

Fushiguro pushed himself up to sit on the counter, and beckoned Yuji to stand in front of him. Yuji sighed and trudged over, standing between Fushiguro’s legs as the hot air from the blowdryer began ruffling his hair. After another minute, Fushiguro’s fingers started carding through pink hair, massaging his scalp gently in the way Yuji always loved, which helped to melt away some of his bad mood.

When Yuji’s hair was mostly dried, Fushiguro turned off the hair dryer and let Yuji look at himself in the mirror, hopping down from the counter to put the blowdryer away.

Yuji let go of a breath he didn’t even know he was holding. His hair looked much better. He put in his product and was finally satisfied when it stood up the way he liked.

“See?” Fushiguro said, hugging him from behind and resting a chin on his shoulder. “It’s not a big deal. Nothing to get angry about.”

Yuji averted his eyes. “Sorry for yelling at you.”

“It’s okay.” Fushiguro kissed his cheek. “Ready to go now?”

“Yeah.”

Fushiguro’s hands lingered for a second longer on the exposed skin of Yuji’s waist, before he stepped back and led the way to the living room.

“Oh!” Yuji exclaimed, stopping in his tracks, finally paying attention to Fushiguro’s outfit. “You look good.”

Fushiguro was dressed in streetwear style: black cargo pants that cinched around his ankles with chains hanging from the belt loops, and a white shirt with a purple lightning graphic on the front that fell loosely over his narrow hips. Studded leather bracelets twisted up his forearms, and a single silver cross necklace sat against his chest. He’d smudged black pencil liner around his eyes, making his gaze even more lethal (and attractive).

Fushiguro gave him a soft smile, flinging a jean jacket over his arm. “You do, too, but you should probably bring a jacket or something since it’ll be cold.”

Yuji was wearing the outfit he had bought at the mall over a year ago — the collared black crop top and the purple velvet skirt. He wore a purple ribbon as a choker and had borrowed golden body glitter from Kugisaki to smear all over his arms, legs, neck, and exposed midriff. Adding a jacket to the ensemble would ruin the look.

“I don’t have anything that goes with this outfit, so I’ll just freeze if it comes to that.”

Fushiguro sighed in defeat, but Yuji saw the way his boyfriend’s eyes lingered for a few seconds too-long on the exposed parts of Yuji’s skin, appreciating.

Yuji grinned. “Yep! Now let’s go.”

The night was pretty much the same as the last 10 of their vacation had been: foggy, humid, and chilly. It hit Yuji again as they exited the London Underground and started up the street. 

He shivered as Fushiguro glanced over at him again. “Do you keep looking at me because you’re worried that I’m cold or because I look cute?”

A small smile crept along Fushiguro’s lips as he flicked his gaze away to check the maps app on his phone. “Both.” 

Fushiguro’s hand discreetly slipped into Yuji’s, and pulled him closer.

Yuji quickly scanned the area around them, afraid that two visibly queer people would attract too much attention, but the nightlife in Soho was lively and busy enough that people passed them on the street without paying them any mind. So he relaxed and laced his arm through Fushiguro’s.

Trash littered the edges of the uneven streets, grime caked into the holes in the cement, and Yuji walked in an uneven line to avoid stepping on the sidewalk cracks and discarded cigarette butts.

Fushiguro rolled his eyes. “Stop walking like that.”

“The streets are dirty!” 

When he almost tripped on a sidewalk crack, Fushiguro chuckled, even as his grip on Yuji’s arm tightened to keep him from falling. 

Flustered, Yuji asked, “Are we there yet?

“It’s around the next corner.”

The club was a modest, 2-story brick building with wooden framed windows. Strings of small pennant pride flags hung in each window, and a full-sized pride flag waved from a post protruding above the front door. 

And inside was lively. 

The atmosphere oozed bliss and heat from dancing bodies, and Yuji grinned from ear to ear. He was so glad he spent the time to make his hair look good, too, because everyone in the room was SO cool. 

A drag performer was walking amongst the crowd, lipsyncing and dancing while audience members tucked bills into her corset and cheered loudly. She gracefully made it back onto the stage platform just in time for the chorus of the song. Glitter started bursting from the cone-shaped bra she was wearing, and the crowd howled with applause.

A couple people from the bar left to stand around the drag queen’s stage. And that’s when Yuji spotted their friends, because a very drunk Kugisaki scrambled to claim an extra barstool.

“Found them!” He tugged on Fushiguro’s hand to drag him towards the bar. 

The bar counter circled around an impressive glass display of more liquor than Yuji had ever seen, with each shelf of bottles illuminated a different color of the rainbow. Inumaki pointed to something on the menu, and the bartender took a very big bottle of vodka off the orange-lit shelf.

“Hey guys!” Yuji called once they were close enough, waving and smiling at them.

“Hey! You finally made it,” Kugisaki said, jumping out of her seat to hug them both. She teetered as she did, and Yuji tried to stabilize her stance as she pulled away to say, “I fought with my life to get us even just five barstools, so someone still needs to stand, but I don’t want to hear any complaints.”

“I can stand,” Okkotsu offered. 

The older boy got up to offer his seat, but Fushiguro shook his head, “I’m good standing for now.”

Yuji took the newest barstool that Kugisaki had claimed, and Fushiguro stood next to him.

Inumaki’s small hands gathered 6 shot glasses full of vodka and slid them down the counter to their group. They wore a wicked smile as they handed everyone a shot.

“CHEERS!” Kugisaki yelled, holding up her shot glass.

Yuji grinned and raised his glass to hers, clinking it softly. “What a way to start the evening.”

“Babe, my evening started an hour ago. You’re late.” She downed the shot effortlessly.

Yuji’s burned his throat and he did his best not to choke. 

Maki raised her eyebrow at Fushiguro, who was sipping on his shot as though it were a cocktail. “God, you’re such a loser.”

~~~

Megumi was a little bit overwhelmed. The club was loud, the lights were strobing and bright and colorful, and at least 7 people had already accidentally bumped into him in the not-even-5 minutes that they’d been here.

And he knew being tipsy would help all of this, but he really didn’t need the taste of rubbing alcohol in the back of his throat to add onto all the other sensory nightmares he was walking through.

So yeah. He was taking his shot in little sips. Sue him. 

He glared at Maki after her comment, but softened when his boyfriend looked at him and laughed. Itadori’s smile glowed brighter than all his golden body glitter.

“Have you guys ordered food at all?” Itadori asked, turning back to their friends.

Okkotsu answered, “We had fries earlier. Everything else on the menu here sounds awful.”

“Even the gay clubs here have bad food?” Itadori looked distraught. “I knew England was the wrong place for a vacation. Are you sure there’s nothing?”

By then, Megumi had decided that it was better to just down the shot and be done with it, which he did with a grimace before saying, “Yuuta and I will go grab something. Save his seat, will you, Maki?”

~~~

Maki put her feet up on Okkotsu’s vacant barstool. Kugisaki and Inumaki seemed to be playing a drinking game. And so Yuji decided to talk to Maki after ordering himself an overly-sweet cocktail.

“Was there a different performer earlier?”

The bartender slid Maki a shallow glass of dark brown liquor with a single large ice cube in it. She swirled it around lightly. “Yeah. They change every, like, ten minutes. You missed this really cool Vietnamese one. Tran Quỳnh Vy. Way better than all the British performers so far in my opinion. She actually sang during her set, too.”

“No way!” Yuji exclaimed. “The one now still seems pretty cool, though. I just like the energy of it all.”

“Fair enough.” She sipped her drink. “I like not having to hide as much.”

“I like it, too. But it’s also not like there’s no queer nightlife back home. We should ask Kyo to help us find more of it.” 

Yuji’s drink arrived at that moment and he was delighted by how pink it was. There was even a little blue umbrella next to the straw.

Maki swirled her own drink. “True. I guess Westerners are obsessed with visibility.”

He laughed. “They only know how to acknowledge something if it’s shoved in their face.” His drink tasted like strawberry, coconut, and rum. “And even then, the bigots still hate it.”

Maki hummed. “And queer people here think that being loud about their identity is the only way to make it ring true, as if there aren’t other parts of themselves that they’re erasing by doing so.” Maki seemed to stop and think about what she was saying. “People only see the parts of us that we proclaim to the world, and then they think that’s all there is to us. But I don’t like being defined by one single part of who I am.”

Yuji plucked the blue umbrella out of his drink and twirled it between his fingers. “I don’t know Westerners well enough, but I think I agree. I know who I am, and I know my larger role. I don’t have to assert one over the other. I guess I just wish it was a little free-er in Japan to love my boyfriend openly.”

“Yeah…” Maki’s gaze softened as she looked at her girlfriend, who was cheering on Inumaki as he downed 2 more shots in quick succession, each one followed by a pickle juice chaser. 

Yuji looked over to where Fushiguro was waiting for the food with Okkotsu. His boyfriend squinted, nose wrinkling, every time the colorful strobe light passed over his face. Yuji found himself smiling as he took a sip from his drink.

Yuji wasn’t sure if the sweetness in his gut was from the cocktail, or from the image of Fushiguro with his hair ruffled in the club lighting.

“Like, wouldn’t it be nice to get married?” Yuji wondered aloud.

Maki scoffed. “Absolutely not. I don’t give a single fuck about being able to get married. It’s just a stupid ritual for straight people, and all it does is glorify ownership and state control.”

Yuji thought about that.

Fushiguro had mentioned marriage once, but not seriously — he’d joked that they’d need the tax benefits, but Yuji knew that Gojo and Geto were beyond rich enough to support all their children throughout their lives, and even probably their grandchildren’s lives.

Of course there were societal benefits to getting legally married, and it definitely favored a certain type of family and relationship structure in society, but Yuji also thought there was still something kind of romantic about getting married. And it gave people the chance to celebrate their love. 

But a lot had to change in Japanese law before it would even be possible for them, and 21 was hardly an age to be thinking about marriage. 

“I get that,” Yuji said carefully. “But it could still make space for a better queer culture in Japan.

Maki clearly wasn’t going to cede her point, though. “Laws and policy are definitely not what makes a vibrant queer community.”

“Of course! But I’d like for space outside the queer community to also be safe for us, you know? And I think that changes to the law can trickle down to the type of broader cultural change we’re hoping to see.”

“Nothing in the law ever changed without ordinary people fighting for change, though.” She tapped her nail on the side of the class. “I guess social and political change goes both ways.”

A new drag queen took to the stage, and started lip-syncing to an upbeat rap song that was way too fast for Yuji to catch any of the English. He wondered, in that moment, how many people had had to engage in social struggle, maybe even die, just for someone like this to be able to stand up on a stage without fear. And he wondered whether there was really that big of a difference between a drag queen standing on stage in an English bar, and standing on one in a Japanese bar.

“Yeah… I guess the most annoying thing for me is that a lot of people here think that countries where gay marriage isn’t legal are, like, primitive or something.” Yuji took a sip of his cocktail and swallowed. “As if there aren’t queer people that exist there too.”

“That’s also definitely part of it,” Maki said, waving her drink around. “Westerners have the laws, and they have the obnoxious visibility politics, and so they act like they’re the only legitimate queer people in the world. When really it’s like, ‘hey dumbass, we exist too! Just because our laws are different and we’re not as loud about our identities, doesn’t mean we’re not there.’”

“Yeah, for sure.” Yuji laughed. “Although I guess being loud is helpful sometimes.”

Maki shrugged, finishing her drink in one gulp. “Sure. It’s just not the only way to be.” 

Okkotsu and Fushiguro brought back three trays full of chicken tenders and fries. Kugisaki and Inumaki, drunk out of their minds, pounced on the food immediately.

“I guess even the British can’t fuck up chicken tenders,” Yuji joked after trying a bite.

“It’s good, it’s good!” Kugisaki wailed, shoving an entire chicken tender in her girlfriend’s mouth. “Maki, whatddya think?”

“I think you need to slow down, moron.” Maki said around her mouthful of food.

Mouth full to the brim, Kugisaki still somehow managed to say, “You can save me if I choke,” earring her an eye-roll from Maki.

Okkotsu gingerly put his hand on Inumaki’s shoulder. “Maybe you should also slow down a little, Toge.”

Inumaki turned to glare at him, defiantly taking a bite out of a chicken tender even while his mouth was already full of fries, and barely chewed before swallowing.

“Please chew.” Okkotsu begged. “There’s plenty of food and I’ll buy more if we run out.”

That seemed to convince Inumaki, who started chewing more normally.

Yuji stood from his chair and offered it to Fushiguro, who had been standing the entire time so far. Fushiguro accepted, sitting down in the spot next to Maki while Yuji stood beside him. He wordlessly offered his cocktail to Fushiguro, who took one glance at the sweet creamy layer, wrinkled his nose, and shook his head to decline. 

“Then let me buy you a different drink, handsome,” Yuji muttered in his ear. 

It was impossible to see in the lighting, but Yuji had memorized the slight curve of Fushiguro’s lip that always accompanied the light blush in his cheeks. “I’ll have a martini.”

“Coming right up.”

Yuji stepped away from the group to catch the attention of the bartender before placing his boyfriend’s drink order. He made sure to remember to tip, since they did that here, and then took the drink back along with the neat paper coaster it came on.

“Thanks, Yuu,” Fushiguro said and took a sip.

From across the corner of the bar, Yuji’s eye suddenly caught on a white boy who was assessing him judgementally. Yuji frowned and turned away, wondering if the boy was racist or something. He shook off the interaction, ate a few fries, and tried to tune in to Kugisaki and Okkotsu’s conversation. 

But when he glanced back, the same boy was now glancing curiously at Fushiguro. 

Oh. Not prejudice, then. It was interest.

Yuji suddenly fumed internally.

 Had the boy not seen how Yuji had gotten Fushiguro a drink? How close the two of them stood? Could he seriously think that Fushiguro was single? Yuji’s stomach churned. The boy across the bar was cute, too, with hair that curled softly over his thin glasses and wide eyes that gleamed even in the dim light.

Fushiguro was talking to Maki about something, entirely oblivious to the white boy who kept trying to catch his eye.

“Good,” Yuji thought, a sickly fire now burning in his gut. This stranger needed to back off.

Yuji stepped back towards Fushiguro and Maki, and put his arm protectively around his boyfriend. He made direct contact with the stranger and glowered at him. The boy raised a single eyebrow, an unimpressed look on his face.

“Yuu?” Fushiguro tilted his head up to look at Yuji, hand coming up to rest on Yuji’s forearm. “Everything alright?”

“Yeah,” Yuji said, smiling down at him. He shot the white boy another fierce look and then pushed the ugly thoughts from his head; jealousy was dumb when Yuji knew Fushiguro would never leave him.

Fushiguro sat up straighter in his chair and locked lips with Yuji for a second, coming away smiling. “I like that I can do that in public at this bar.”

Yuji’s mouth was bitter from the taste of the martini as he looked up and saw that the wavy-haired boy was gone. And suddenly the bitterness didn’t taste so bad. He grinned at Fushiguro again. “Me too.”

~~~

The night carried on. At one point, Megumi stayed behind at the bar while Itadori and the rest of their friends went to the dancefloor to jump along to the electro-pop song that had started playing for the next drag performer.

Megumi leaned his elbows back against the counter and just watched his friends melt into the crowd, dancing along to the music. They were all a few drinks in at this point (some more than others, clearly, since Okkotsu was struggling to hold Inumaki upright). 

But as Megumi watched the way Itadori moved — a smile gracing his features, the lights reflecting the golden glitter on his skin, his body dancing fluidly to the song, his own hands on his chest as he dramatically lip-synced the words with Kugisaki by his side — the temperature in the room seemed to raise a few degrees.

Whether it was because of the alcohol in his system or from watching Itadori move more freely than he had seen in a while, Megumi couldn’t say.

The vacation had been a good idea. 

They’d all agreed that they needed some time away from home after the events of the last couple years, something like a brief reset to get out of their heads. And Itadori seemed to be doing better than ever, considering everything that had happened to him.

Watching his boyfriend’s genuine, carefree happiness made Megumi love him more and more each day.

Eventually, the group made their way back to him, breathless, glistening, and ecstatic.

“Megumi, you should’ve joined us!” Kugisaki said, still swaying slightly and leaning heavily on Maki. “It feels incredible to dance.”

Megumi chuckled and finished his drink in one gulp. “I’m okay over here.”

Itadori pouted. “Will you dance with me on the next song?”

Megumi looked up through his eyebrows to meet Itadori’s eyes, considering how best to reject his boyfriend’s request. Instead, his breath caught in his throat at the flush in Itadori’s cheeks.

“Please?” Itadori pleaded.

Megumi bit the inside of his cheek and sighed, and Itadori grinned since he knew that meant Megumi was going to give in. Because when was Megumi ever immune to his pleading?

“Fine,” he said, glancing away from Itadori. “Let me just go to the restroom first.” He left his jean jacket to hang over the back of the barstool, and walked off to stand in line for the gender-neutral bathroom.

~~~

“Did you see that, Nobara?!” Yuji exclaimed, grinning proudly. “I convinced Meg to dance with us.”

“Hell yeah!” She tried to high-five Yuji, missed his hand entirely, and went in for a second try that hit.

Maki rolled her eyes. “As if Megumi’s ever had a backbone when it came to you, Itadori. Jesus christ.”

“We might lose our spot at the bar if all of us are out there at once, though,” Okkotsu pointed out.

Inumaki slapped his arm playfully.

“Yeah, you tell him, Toge!” Kugisaki said, laughing. “Don’t be such a killjoy, Yuuta. If we’re all dancing, it means we don’t need a spot at the bar anymore.”

“But what if we want to get more food later? Or get drinks? Or even just sit down to rest? I feel like it’s probably a good idea for someone to stay. I can-”

Inumaki tugged on Okkotsu’s sleeve, making sad puppy-dog eyes up at him.

Okkotsu sighed, giving in. “Alright, fine.”

“I’m surrounded by useless homosexuals,” Maki mumbled.

Okkotsu pretended not to hear her. “But no one’s allowed to blame me afterwards when we don’t have anywhere to sit.”

“We’ll just keep dancing until sunrise!” Kugisaki shouted, raising her hands to the ceiling.

“Alright, alright,” Maki said, tugging Kugisaki’s arms back down. “Calm down, you’ll lose your voice.”

“Mind if I join the dancing?”

All five of them turned to stare at the stranger who had approached their group out of nowhere, speaking perfect Japanese.

Yuji genuinely couldn’t tell if they were a boy or a girl, but they looked to be around the same age as him. Their hair fell down to their shoulders, and half of it was clipped back Eren-Jaeger-style. Multiple long, silver earrings dangled from their earlobes and they had elaborate, multicolored eyeliner. They wore a leather jacket over a plain white t-shirt and ripped, loose-fitting jeans. Their short, clipped nails were painted bright red.

“Sorry, who are you?” Maki asked bluntly.

“Mizuho Fujima,” they said confidently and bowed slightly. “Not a lot of other Japanese folks around. Figured I’d enjoy your company.”

They held out their hand and shook everyone’s hand in turn as they introduced themselves. Fujima’s smile widened slightly as Yuji introduced himself, and their hand lingered for a second longer in Yuji’s grasp.

“What can we do for you, Fujima?” Maki asked, slipping her arm around Kugisaki’s waist.

“Oh, please. Call me Mizuho. All that family name bullshit makes me mad.”

“Mizuho it is,” Maki said, and then looked at them expectantly, waiting for them to explain themselves further.

“We should all dance,” they said with that same unshakeable confidence, clasping their hands behind their back and swaying side-to-side excitedly. “If you want to, that is.”

“Hell yeah!” Kugisaki said eagerly. “This guy- girl-? This fucker gets it! We should go dance.”

Yuji bursted out laughing at the gender-neutral term Kugisaki had settled on, while Maki scolded her for being so impolite.

Mizuho turned to him. “So Yuji- is it okay if I call you Yuji?” When Yuji nodded, they continued, holding out their hand. “Would you dance with me?” 

Yuji’s heart stopped, and he blinked. 

Wait.

What? 

Why was this person asking… 

Yuji looked around. 

Maki was holding Kugisaki by the waist, and Okkotsu had slipped his arm over Inumaki’s shoulders, holding him close. It was just Yuji who was standing in the group by himself. 

And Mizuho had the wrong idea.

Yuji’s throat had gone dry, but he said, “Uh- I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He was hyper-aware of how Maki and Okkotsu were holding back their laughter, while Kugisaki and Inumaki were too drunk to process the situation correctly.

“Awh, come on!” Mizuho chided lightly. “I can buy you a drink.”

“No, I don’t really-”

“Itadori loves free drinks,” Maki said teasingly.

“I think anyone would accept a free drink, right Itadori?” Okkotsu joined in.

Yuji shot both of them an annoyed look. “Look, Mizuho, I really appreciate it, but my boyf-”

“I’ll buy all of us drinks,” they offered without hesitation.

“Well, we can’t say no to that!” Maki said, covering her smirk with her fist. “Just play along,” she mouthed to Yuji.

Yuji glared at her. “Maki-”

“Free drinks?” Kugisaki finally registered. “Fuck yeah, let’s gooo! What did you say your gender was?”

Maki flicked her girlfriend’s forehead lightly. “You’re supposed to ask for pronouns, idiot, not their gender.”

Mizuho laughed. “No, it’s alright. Any pronouns are fine with me. I don’t really care.” 

They leaned over the counter and waved the bartender over, who came and wrote down the list of drinks that Mizuho ordered.

Yuji hated lying, didn’t like playing along, not like this, not when-

Mizuho turned back around, arms outstretched self-assuredly. “All on me, see? It’s all good, Yuji. No pressure.”

Yuji’s heart beat loudly in his head. He didn’t want this. This person was confident and forward and rash and it was all great (like, totally the type of person Yuji would be friends with), but he didn’t want this. 

Where was Fushiguro? 

Yuji tugged on the hem of his crop top, suddenly wanting to cover his waist. “No, I mean, thank you, obviously. It’s just that I have a boyfriend.” 

But when he looked up, he saw that Mizuho wasn’t paying him any attention and hadn’t heard him, instead accepting the first few drinks from the bartender and having an animated conversation with Kugisaki, who was beyond elated that someone was listening to her talk about her favorite pair of shoes.

“No, I’m telling you, Mizo,” she said, having already thought of a nickname for them (or maybe was too drunk to remember their full name). “They’re stylish as hell and the most comfortable thing I’ve ever worn.”

“Are you serious?” Mizuho asked, astonished, taking a sip of their drink.

“Deadass!” Kugisaki said excitedly, reaching down and starting to unlace her shoe. “Here, you can try it-”

“Nobara, stop it,” Maki said. “She doesn’t want to try your shoe.”

“Yeah, I’m really okay, Nobara. But thank you!”

Maki raised an eyebrow at Mizuho, and Yuji could tell that she wasn’t happy that this person they’d all met not even five minutes ago was calling her girlfriend by her given name. 

But Mizuho didn’t seem to notice, and turned back to Yuji, smiling and bowing theatrically as they held out a drink for him. “For you, good sir,” they said with a giggle in their voice.

“Mizuho, look, I really appreciate all this…” Yuji accepted the drink, just so they would stand up from their bow. “And you seem like a really cool person—” He glanced in the direction of the restroom— “So I think we can totally be friends, but-”

Mizuho’s eyes darted over to Inumaki, who had started gulping down his drink in one go alongside a very concerned Okkotsu, and Mizuho’s attention shifted entirely away from Yuji. 

“Oh my god, Toge!” Mizuho exclaimed. “You go, bestie! Damn!” 

Okkotsu bit his lip and then said meekly, “Can you call him Inumaki, please? It’s just, we don’t know you that well, and it’s a little weird that you’re pretending like we’re all good friends. I mean, I know you said you don’t like the etiquette of family names, but I just- could you just-”

“Oh, totally. I’m so sorry,” Mizuho said, bowing respectfully. “That’s my bad for assuming.” But they quickly stood back up and continued cheering Inumaki on as if nothing had happened. It was all so strange.

And at that moment, he saw Fushiguro come out of the restroom and start making his way back. Yuji breathed out in relief. 

~~~

Megumi warily eyed the stranger in their group as he came to stand directly next to Itadori. “Who’s that?” he said, frowning and watching the way the stranger took Maki’s empty drink glass and returned it to the counter.

Itadori worried his lip between his teeth. “Another Japanese person we just met called Mizuho. They kinda just butted into our group and bought us all drinks.” He fiddled with the edge of his skirt. “Well… first they asked to dance with me, but I said no, and then they bought us drinks.”

Megumi’s eyes flashed dangerously as he looked back at Mizuho, who still had their back turned. A nasty feeling stuck to the lining of Megumi’s lungs, a fiery anger crackling just behind his forehead. Megumi’s voice came out low and strained as he asked, “Why are they still here if you told them no?”

“Maki and Okkotsu were teasing me for getting hit on… and then the drinks offer came and everyone was on-board. Maki wanted me to play along so we’d all get free drinks. I swear I keep trying to tell Mizuho that I have a boyfriend but their attention span is hella short so they never hear me say it.”

“Don’t hear you or don’t want to?” Megumi grumbled.

Itadori laced their fingers together. “It’s okay, you’re here now.”

“Yuji!” the stranger called over their shoulder. “Are you seeing this? Inumaki drank their entire cocktail and is gulping Okkotsu’s down lightning-quick!”

Megumi put his hand on the small of Yuji’s back possessively and muttered into his ear, “Why are they calling you by your given name?”

Before Itadori could respond, Mizuho turned around and fixed his gaze on Megumi, blinking a couple times in surprise. “Hello!” they said brightly. “I don’t think we’ve met, I’m Fujima Mizuho.” 

They held out their hand to Megumi, who just glared at it and made no move to shake it.

“Mizuho!” Itadori said smoothly, smiling with a cheeky sweetness as he pulled Megumi’s arm over his shoulders. “This is my boyfriend, Fushiguro Megumi. He likes free drinks, too.”

Maki and Okkotsu were dying of laughter in the background while Mizuho blinked again and then smiled, dropping their hand. 

“Boyfriend, huh?”

“That’s right,” Itadori said firmly.

“Pleased to meet you, Mizuho.” Megumi said, pulling Yuji closer, and then he turned to his boyfriend and smiled softly, making his voice light and playful as he asked, “What’s this about free drinks, baby?”

“Oh!” Itadori continued on with the bit they had started. “Mizuho wanted to dance with us, so they were buying us drinks beforehand. Isn’t that right?”

To both of their surprise, Mizuho grinned and then nodded. “That’s right. What can I get you, Megumi?”

Megumi’s lip curled. “That’s Fushiguro to you — and I’ll take a martini with two olives.”

Mizuho placed the order and then turned back to them. “You two are so pretty together. Any chance you’re open to a third?”

Megumi only hesitated a moment before answering for them both: “Thank you, but no. We’re monogamous.” He’d never gotten a question like that before, and it almost made him laugh.

Mizuho hummed, rocking back and forth on their feet. “That’s unfortunate. But alright.” The bartender slid over the drink and Mizuho promptly handed it to Megumi, who accepted it with a short and polite ‘thank you.’

“So, what are you all doing in London?” Mizuho asked them.

“Just vacationing,” Okkotsu said mildly. “And you?”

“Oh, I’ve lived here for a few years now. And I’m starting my PhD soon, so I’ll be here for a while more. But, man, I miss Okinawa.”

Okkotsu and Kugisaki continued engaging in conversation with Mizuho, but Megumi quite frankly just wanted them gone. They were messing up the group dynamic and making Megumi uncomfortable.

Megumi stayed clinging to Itadori, and leaned in to mutter, “Why are they still here if we’ve rejected them and we’re not dancing with them?”

“Not sure,” Itadori said, his mouth barely moving as he said it, like he was trying to be discreet.

Mizuho was in the middle of exchanging Instagrams with Kugisaki. “Oh my god, you’re an influencer!”

Kugisaki flipped her hair. “Yeah, something like that.”

Mizuho’s eyes locked on Itadori, and Megumi’s hand tightened around his boyfriend’s waist reflexively. “Could I get your Instagram, too, Yuji?”

Megumi’s jaw flexed.

“Uh- Yeah, sure…” Itadori typed his account name into Mizuho’s phone, and Mizuho immediately hit the follow request button. 

Megumi watched with disdain as the Japanese stranger clicked on Itadori’s profile picture to enlarge it. “God, you’re so damn cute,” they mumbled before looking up at the pair of them again. “You sure I can’t change either of your minds? I promise I’m a good time.” They winked.

Megumi grit his teeth and, as politely as possible, said, “No, thank you.”

“Yeah, we’re okay, Mizuho,” Itadori added. “We’re flattered, but I’m also ace, so... yeah. Thanks though!”

Itadori was being way too nice, in Megumi's opinion.

Mizuho finally seemed to get the message, eyes flicking between the two of them, before finally relenting. “Alright, it was worth a shot. Well, it was nice to meet you all! Enjoy your drinks.” They blew a kiss and disappeared back into the crowd.

Maki bursted out laughing. “What in the fuck was that interaction?”

Inumaki smirked and signed, “Girlie had the hots for Yuji BIG-TIME. Was even willing to bang Megumi to get to Yuji.”

Megumi glared at the platinum-haired boy and refused to translate the sign-language for Itadori.

Thankfully, Okkotsu didn’t translate either. He just said, “They thought Itadori was cute. At first I thought it was harmless flirting, but I guess she ended up looking for a threesome. Although, when she initially asked if they were looking for a third and why we were in London, I thought she might’ve been polyamorous. I was gonna ask if any one else from her polycule was here.”

“Her what?” Itadori asked, finishing the cocktail that Mizuho had bought for him and sliding the glass down the counter into the hand of a bartender.

Megumi was still feeling upset. He had nothing against polyamorous people, they just needed to stay away from Itadori. Everyone with romantic or sexual intent needed to stay away from Itadori. 

But he repeated the word for his boyfriend: “Polycule.”

Okkotsu nodded. “It’s, like, what you call the relationship network of polyamorous people and their partners.”

“Ooh, like yours.” Maki said matter-of-factly. “I didn’t know it was called that.”

Megumi’s lip curled, his internal displeasure bleeding into his words to his friends. “How the fuck have you been friends with Yuuta for over five years and never known the phrase ‘polycule’?” 

Maki held up her hands in surrender. “Whatever.”

Itadori must have sensed that Megumi was still feeling bothered by the interaction with Mizuho, because he put a soothing hand on Megumi’s waist and muttered, “Be nice.”

Megumi huffed out a hot breath, trying to cool himself down. Nothing had happened. Itadori was just attractive, and everyone could see it. But nothing had happened. He was still his.

“If you think about it,” Kugisaki slurred, leaning heavily against the bar counter. “All of us are in a polycule. The world is a polycule. I love everything.”

Maki pinched the bridge of her nose, Itadori and Inumaki laughed loudly and each collapsed onto a barstool, and Okkotsu curled in on himself sheepishly. 

“I mean, not really,” Okkotsu said meekly. “But I like your spirit. There’s definitely a lot of conversations we could have about pushing the boundaries of heteronormative conceptions of love.”

Kugisaki turned to Maki and declared, “Maybe I’m polyamorous, too.”

“You’re not polyamorous, you’re just drunk,” Maki said evenly, kissing Kugisaki on the nose.

Itadori leaned against Megumi, head against his chest, and turned to look up at him like a housecat. “You showed up at a good time, Meg.”

Megumi’s irritation finally melted under his boyfriend’s affectionate attention. “Yeah, I’m just glad things didn’t go too far.”

“Aww,” Itadori cooed, nuzzling his head against Megumi’s chest. “Were you jealous?”

Megumi pursed his lips and didn’t reply.

Itadori grinned up at him. “Is it because he called me cute?”

“They called you cute because you are cute,” Megumi mumbled, running his fingers through Itadori’s hair. “Piece-of-shit pretty boy getting hit on everywhere we go.”

“I do not get hit on everywhere we go!” Itadori protested, sitting up straight. “But you attract so much attention. Earlier, there was a boy who was staring at you, but you didn’t notice.”

“There was?” Megumi looked in the direction Itadori had gestured.

“Don’t sound so happy about it.” Itadori smacked his arm playfully. “I put my arm around you and stared him down until he left.”

Megumi breathed out an amused laugh. “Whatever, I don’t usually get approached by people. You on the other hand…” Megumi dragged his hand up Itadori’s side. “Everyone thinks you’re hot, you’re easily approachable, and you have the type of friendly personality that makes people want to be with you even more after they talk to you.”

“True that!” Kugisaki shouted, followed by Maki’s, “Shut up, you’re a lesbian.” 

Okkotsu piped in with, “I thought I had a crush on you for a couple days, Itadori, when we first met.”

Megumi raised his eyebrows in surprise at Okkotsu’s confession, but he didn’t have the time to be annoyed at it. Instead, he held out his hand, his point proven. “There you go.”

Itadori’s mouth hung open. “I’m not- That doesn’t- It doesn’t even matter!” He looked back up at Megumi. “I only have eyes for you, Meg, you know that.”

Megumi rubbed Itadori’s arm. “Oh, I know. But other people don’t, and I’m going to have to keep fighting them off for the rest of my life, probably.”

The pink-haired boy frowned. “Who have you ever had to fight off?”

“You seriously want a list?” Megumi started ticking off the people on his fingers as he said them aloud: “Multiple waitresses at various restaurants, the barista who drew a smiley-face in your cappuccino, the boy who went out of his way to show us to our seats in the movie theater that one time, people who stare at you on the metro every single day, and that one girl who asked if you would show her how to read the bus schedule at the bus stop when we were on a mission in Sendai.”

Itadori’s mouth dropped open again. “She was flirting with me?”

Everyone burst out laughing while Megumi nodded calmly, and said, “Definitely. You’re just too respectful and oblivious to notice otherwise. And most of those are only within the last few months. I could go on.”

Itadori looked like his brain was exploding. “And that’s why you’re sometimes randomly touchy in public even though you usually hate PDA?!”

A new round of laughter started up as Megumi nodded again.

Itadori covered his mouth in shame, blushing all the way to the roots of his hair. “Oh my god, Meg, baby, I’m so sorry. I swear on both our lives that you’re never going to lose me.”

Megumi smiled smally. “It’s alright, I know I’m not going to lose you. I just want other people to know that you’re mine.”

Itadori smiled stupidly wide. “I’m yours,” he affirmed.

“Ugh, it’s not funny now that they’re being gross,” Kugisaki complained and turned away, finishing her drink.

“And I’m yours,” Megumi muttered, just for Itadori to hear. 

Itadori beamed and Megumi swore he was glowing.

~~~

At some point in the night, Inumaki started tugging at Okkotsu’s sleeve and pointing to the dance floor.

Okkotsu tried to bring up the same argument from before. “Toge, someone should really stay to save our seats so that-” 

“Nuh-uh!” Kugisaki interrupted. “You already said you’d come with us. And Megumi did too. So come on, losers, let’s go dance.” She tugged on Maki’s arm and they all headed out to the dance floor.

“I hate dancing,” Fushiguro huffed, but didn’t pull away as Yuji dragged him towards the dance floor.

Yuji threw him a smile over his shoulder. “Well, you basically just have to jump along to the music. It’s not that serious, and no one will judge you either way. Come on.” He took both of Fushiguro’s hands in his own and started moving to the music, trying to tug Fushiguro into dancing along with him.

“I’m not drunk enough for this,” Fushiguro groaned.

Yuji leaned in close to his boyfriend’s ear, saying, “Come on, Meg. I promise it’s fun.” The alcohol was pleasantly flowing through Yuji’s bloodstream, making his body feel looser. He twisted around and started dancing right up against Fushiguro’s body.

As he almost knocked both of them over, Fushiguro placed his hands on Yuji’s hips to keep him upright (and to press against him from behind). Fushiguro very slowly started to move to the music, but mostly just took the invitation to move his body against Yuji.

Kugisaki was dancing wildly, Maki occasionally having to interrupt her own movements to make sure Kugisaki didn’t bump into anyone too violently. Inumaki was holding Okkotsu’s hands and trying to get him to dance more freely, but Okkotsu kept glancing back at the bar to see if any new seats would open up (they did not). 

Yuji smiled at his friends.

After a few minutes, it seemed that Fushiguro had completely let loose, and Yuji stepped back slightly to look at him, watching how blissfully unconcerned and happy Fushiguro looked while dancing.

“You’re so stunning, baby,” Yuji told him and kept dancing next to him.

Somewhere around 4am, the crowd started to dissipate, and the club started to calm down. The alcohol in their bloodstream cooled down enough to bring about a natural end to their night out.

But that didn’t mean all of them were sober.

“Will you be okay getting to the airport?” Fushiguro asked, raising his eyebrows at Kugisaki and Inumaki, who somehow looked even more drunk than before, and couldn’t stand upright without clinging to their respective partners.

Okkotsu nodded. “I called an Uber for us, so we won’t have to deal with them being drunk on the metro.”

“Maybe staying out all night before our flights was the wrong move,” Yuji said, rubbing his arms in the chilly morning air.

Maki snorted. “It’s a fourteen hour flight. We can sleep then.”

Okkotsu tugged Inumaki back onto the sidewalk after he’d stepped into the street. “But hopefully these two are more sober by the time we get to airport security.”

Fushiguro nodded. “Good luck. We’ll see you later then?”

Kugisaki almost fell over, and Maki looped her arms below Kugiskai’s armpits to keep her upright, saying, “As long as this bitch doesn’t fall on her face before we get in the Uber, then yes, we’ll be seeing you soon.”

Their friends walked off, leaving Fushiguro and Yuji standing on the sidewalk outside the club. Their flight back home was later that afternoon, so they needed to get back to the hotel.

“Which way were we supposed to go again?” Yuji asked, bouncing up and down in place a little to try to warm himself up.

Fushiguro turned to him with a concerned expression. “Are you cold? I told you to bring a jacket.”

“I’m fine! Which way was the way to our metro line?”

Fushiguro nodded to their left. “Let’s go.”

The city buzzed with lazy nightlife around them — a stark contrast to the liveliness in the club. Yuji watched as the lights in some bars still flickered as people continued enjoying themselves. But for the most part, the streets were dark and mostly empty of people, save for a few that were stumbling out of the bars to go home.

A cold, gentle breeze picked up as they turned the street corner, and goosebumps prickled up along Yuji’s exposed arms, legs, and waist. He stepped closer to Fushiguro, pulling his boyfriend’s arm over his shoulders and pressing into his side. He slipped his own arm around Fushiguro’s waist to pull him closer.

Fushiguro rubbed at Yuji’s arm, sighing, “I told you it would be cold.”

“Yeah, and I said I was willing to take that chance for my killer outfit.”

“Well, no one at four-a.m. is going to care about your outfit. Here.” Fushiguro took off his jean jacket and placed it over Yuji’s shoulders.

A shiver ran down Yuji’s spine at the new warmth, and he slipped his arms into the jacket sleeves that had trapped some of Fushiguro’s body heat.

“Thank you,” he said, sliding his arm around Fushiguro again.

“Next time you better wear something that will go with some sort of jacket.” Fushiguro quipped, but put his arm over Yuji’s shoulders comfortingly.

Yuji pouted and slipped his hand below the hem of Fushiguro’s shirt, pressing his palm to the warm skin on Fushiguro’s waist to try to get rid of the cold in his fingertips.

~~~ 

Before he could complain about how cold Itadori’s hands were, the door of a pub on the corner up ahead slammed open loud enough to echo all the way down the otherwise-empty street.

Megumi and Itadori instinctively dropped their arms from around each other as a trio of white men stumbled out of the pub, laughing loudly and roughly shoving a fourth person out onto the street.

Megumi felt Itadori tense up next to him.

“We don’t let trannies into the pub, mate,” said the biggest guy, wearing an unbuttoned white shirt that exposed his chest hair. 

His two goons were taking turns pushing a tall, lanky woman out onto the street. The woman was stumbling in her heels, but somehow managed to stay upright, holding her arms out defensively.

“I’ll call the police!” she shouted.

“I am the police, bitch,” sneered one of the men, who was bald and wearing a plaid shirt. “And I say you belong on the street.” He shoved the woman hard enough that she fell backwards onto the concrete. 

Her ankle twisted in an unnatural direction and she screamed. 

Megumi could sense the disaster unfolding before him in slow-motion as Itadori took off sprinting towards them before he could even react. 

The third man, in a puffer jacket and a flat cap, grinned disgustingly as he circled the woman slowly, like a predator. “He might not be allowed in the pub, but I have another idea of what we can do to him out here.”

At first, Megumi thought that Itadori was going to punch the guy.

Instead, Itadori blurred past all of the men and kneeled down next to the woman. They had a quick exchange before Itadori stood up again and placed himself between the woman and the 3 men. 

Oh god, he was about to do something so stupid. 

~~~

“You OK?” Yuji asked her in his best English.

The woman shook her head, eyes blown wide in fear. She pointed to her ankle, which was twisted in a painful angle. 

Yuji winced. 

“I keep them busy,” he said in a tone he hoped was reassuring. “You run.” 

He knew she wouldn’t actually be able to run with her ankle, but he hoped he conveyed the idea as best as he could with his limited English vocabulary. All those years of watching Hollywood movies had to be useful after all.

Yuji stood up. His heart pounded as he turned around to stare at the three ugly men before him.

People like this were exactly what was wrong with the world.

~~~ 

Megumi’s feet barely carried him fast enough.

The woman was scrambling backwards, trying to get away, but the bald man was still circling her, and she froze. Her ankle did not look right, and she wasn’t getting very far. 

Megumi skidded to a stop and grabbed Itadori’s arm to pull him closer and away from the drunk strangers. “Don’t engage,” he demanded.

But Itadori wrenched his arm away, eyes locked on the white men. “What is your problem?” he said in broken English.

Fuck, this was not the time to pick a fight. 

They were in a foreign country with a horrible health system. They didn’t have any friends or family around. Megumi’s cursed technique was weaker outside of Japan, and even then, he wasn’t supposed to use it around normal humans without drawing a veil. Fuck. Fuck!

They could definitely outrun the strangers. The woman was really tall, but Itadori would probably still be able to carry her, no problem. They could take her to an emergency room or call her a taxi once they were out of range of the men. 

“Yuji,” he said sternly. “We need to grab her and run.”

Still his boyfriend paid him no mind. Instead, he spoke in English again: “Leave her alone.”

The man in the puffer jacket and flat cap was looking Itadori up and down with a smirk. “Who d’you think you are?”

The bald man chuckled as he rejoined his friends. “A geisha?”

The first one with the flat cap laughed boisterously. “Nah bruv, that’s racist, you can’t say that!” 

The man with prominent chest hair stepped forward. “You’re both piss drunk, mate. It’s just a bloke and his girl, don’t be rude… Oh wait!” He sneered directly at Yuji. “That’s not a girl.”

His two goons burst out laughing, the one in the cap shoving his friend in jest. But as the bald man stumbled, Megumi caught a glimpse of a gun holstered at his waist. 

Megumi’s eyes widened. 

His heart skipped several beats.

Fuck. 

An off-duty police officer? Is that what he had meant by ‘I am the police’? Shit. 

Oh fuck.

The situation was suddenly much more serious.

It was ridiculous that this woman had even considered calling the police, as if they would be on her side. Police forces were never about keeping the peace, they were always about protecting upper class interests and property. And gender-nonconformity is a threat to organized society under capitalism; the police would never defend a trans person.

The man with a gun went back to circling all of them with an amused expression on his face. 

Megumi felt like he was going to be sick.

So running away was no longer an option, because that man could just open fire. 

Shit. 

They had a gun. 

The man with the chest hair seemed to have leader-of-the-pack energy, but the bald one had a literal fucking gun. 

What if the others also did, and Megumi just hadn’t seen the weapons? Were they all police? Fuck, fuck, fuck. Westerners and their fucking guns. They probably didn’t even get proper training on how to operate guns, did they? Christ. Someone could die. Shit. Fuck.

Megumi was panicking, but he needed to do something before the situation escalated further. “Yuji,” he said as evenly and non-threateningly as he could. “The bald man has a gun on his belt.”

Itadori tensed up, but otherwise managed to stay collected. “Okay. We need to distract them long enough for her to get away.”

“No. We all need to fucking get away. You can carry her.”

But Itadori stayed rooted, glaring at the men. “We need to distract them.”

“No, Yuu, we need to leave.” 

“And how do you suggest we do that if one of them has a gun?”

“We de-escalate.”

“Fucking how, Meg? They’re the agitators. We’re not doing anything, and I won’t let them hurt her.”

Megumi tugged on Itadori’s arm. But Itadori was stubborn and Megumi had never been strong enough to move him when he didn’t want to be moved.

God, this was bad.

“What, you don’t speak English?” the guy with chest hair said, whose eyes had been flicking between Megumi and Itadori during their conversation.

Megumi pursed his lips. He kept his movements polite and clear as he stepped in front of Itadori and bowed his head slightly. In his best English, he said, “Respectfully, sir, we don’t know you and don’t want any trouble.”

~~~

When Fushiguro spoke, it sounded like perfect English to Yuji.

Chest-Hair Guy said, “Oh, so you do understand us. Now then, why don’t you go back to your country, ey? We don’t need more of your lot ‘round here.” 

“We have enough with him already,” said the bald (and apparently armed) man, nodding his head at the woman. He had stopped circling her, since she clearly wasn’t going anywhere, and rejoined his buddies. 

Okay, good. That was 1 objective complete: get them away from the woman. Success. Yuji just needed to keep attention off of her so she could get away. Nothing too rash, obviously, because if the men got scared, they might shoot. But if Yuji managed to move to the side and draw their attention away, then maybe… 

Chest-Hair Guy leaned to the side, looking at Yuji around Fushiguro. “You gonna stand there and let your little boyfriend protect you?” 

His two goons on either side of him started laughing stupidly.

Anger was boiling up in Yuji’s gut and he really just wanted to punch them. But he knew that wasn’t a good idea, especially if they had weapons. He just had to keep stalling.

Next to him, Fushiguro swore under his breath, eyes darting around, trying to find solutions. The woman seemed to be slightly more able to move, but was laying low in the commotion. And the 3 men in front of them just kept sneering like the ugly bigots that they were.

God, who the fuck did they think they were, anyway? The woman had just been trying to go to the pub. He and Fushiguro were just walking down the street, and they’d just wanted to help the woman. They weren’t doing anything wrong. They weren’t bothering anyone. So why did these three grown-ass men decide to harass them? 

Yuji wondered if it was just because they were drunk or if they were always complete assholes.

He needed a distraction.

He stepped in front of Fushiguro and got up in Chest-Hair Guy’s face, pointing at him rudely. In his awful, broken English, he said, “What is your problem, man?”

“Yuji, don’t-” Fushiguro grabbed his arm and tried to tug him back, but Yuji pulled away from his grasp.

He made direct eye-contact with Chest-Hair Guy, allowing the anger to bleed into his expression. “Because we are two men? Or because I wear skirt?” He gestured to his outfit for emphasis, part of him genuinely wanting to piss off these white guys.

From behind their leader, the two guys laughed. 

Bald Guy said to his friends, “He can’t even speak right,” before looking at Yuji condescendingly. “Are you sure you can call yourself a man in that outfit, mate?” 

Yuji turned to face him. 

If he had a gun, then so be it. 

Better it be directed at Yuji than at that innocent woman.

 “Yes.” Yuji shot back at Bald Guy defiantly. 

Yuji wanted to say, “If clothes are the only thing that make you a man, then that’s really not a lot to stake your masculinity on,” but he didn’t have the English vocabulary for it. The words got stuck in his throat right along with his anger and his growing sense of inadequacy.

“Yuji, don’t escalate.” Fushiguro’s voice was stern as he tugged on Yuji’s wrist, squeezing firmly. “Let’s approach this rationally.”

But Yuji wasn’t going to back down now. He shrugged Fushiguro off, turning back to the main guy with his hands outstretched. “So what?” he said, taking a couple steps to the side, drawing their attention along with him. “What is your problem?” He couldn’t help but smile when the men fell for the bait and turned their bodies to face Yuji instead of the woman and Fushiguro.

He could take a fight right now. As long as there were no other weapons, he could go for the gun, throw it off to the side. Kick their asses in a skirt. Maybe that would show them.

But then-

Chest-Hair Guy’s lip curled amusingly. “You don’t deserve to be alive.”

And Yuji faltered.

That was… 

How did this man know exactly what to say to ruin all of Yuji’s composure? 

It wedged a dagger into all of Yuji’s scars, the sharpest pain right between his eyes. 

He didn’t deserve to be alive? Yuji knew that. Part of himself still repeated that thought in his head: “I don’t deserve to be alive, I should be dead,” the echo of Sukuna’s abuse.

But Yuji wasn’t the same person anymore.

Did anyone ever really deserve anything? Not really.

Yuji had done nothing to deserve his time at Jujutsu Tech, where he learned how to fight. Yuji hadn’t done anything to deserve the friends he made there, like Chiaki or Inumaki and especially Nobara Kugisaki, who seemed to click with him so well that he was certain they were soulmates. Yuji didn’t deserve to survive what had happened in Shibuya. He didn’t deserve to be nearing the end of his most valuable education, where he was surrounded by energetic underclassmen every day that reminded him why youth was so precious. And he didn’t deserve Megumi Fushiguro, who had somehow chosen him and loved him and cared for him every single day. 

Yeah, Yuji really didn’t deserve any of it.

So maybe he didn’t deserve to live, but he was alive anyway. He’d been given this chance and, fucking hell, he was going to make the absolute most of his time on this earth. He would be good enough to prove himself worthy.

Yuji opened his mouth to retort something, but all the words got stuck again, and Chest-Hair Guy continued before Yuji could: 

“Did you try to come to England because your country kills fags like you? D’you think we would accept you?”

It felt like Yuji’s blood was boiling as it rushed loudly in his ears. “Your country is evil.”

The men laughed.

“Yuji, please-” Fushiguro had moved, too, and kept trying to tug him away, practically begging, but Yuji planted his feet on the ground and refused to budge as he kept arguing:

“We are not hurting any people! You are fighting.” Yuji’s mouth opened and closed and opened and closed again. He wanted to say more. He didn’t have the words. He felt small and hurt and angry and-

It was people like these who were holding all of society back. People like them were the reason he didn’t feel safe holding his boyfriend’s hand in public. 

It didn’t matter the country. Everyone liked to think the West was so special and progressive with their LGBTQ+ policies, as if there weren’t assholes like this all over the place.

Chest-Hair Guy scoffed and stepped closer. “Well if our country’s so evil, then why’re you here? Go back to China, cunt.”

“Japan,” Yuji growled. 

“Don’t care. You’re more useful over there anyway. Too many Asians as it is, it’s good that homosexuals can’t add to the population.”

~~~ 

Holy fuck, holy shit, holy fuck fuck fuck- this was bad.

They should’ve just kept going. Megumi should’ve ignored whatever stupid rules the higher-ups had and just shadow traveled them away. He should have held Itadori tighter and pulled him along to the metro station. How had those three assholes managed to rile Itadori up so quickly?

And why the fuck was Itadori picking a fight in a language he didn’t even speak? He was such an idiot.

Megumi kept trying to pull him back, but Itadori was seething with anger, and the blood in Megumi’s body was beginning to boil too after having to listen to the older mens’ comments.

He was mad at Itadori, for starting an unnecessary fight. And he was mad at the three shitbags, who were saying the most infuriating things. And he was mad at himself, for not de-escalating properly.

Every muscle in Itadori’s body seemed tense as he started shouting in his native language. 

~~~

“Fuck you!” Yuji was shouting in Japanese now. “You’re wrong in so many ways that I don’t even know how to begin-”

“Yuji!” Fushiguro said in a sharp warning tone, but Yuji didn’t listen. He was fuming. 

“People should be allowed to love however and whomever they want to!” he yelled at Chest-Hair Guy, who stepped closer to Yuji, looking amused that Yuji was so riled up. It made him even angrier. “And we should be able to live and travel wherever we want to. People from other places in the world wouldn’t be entering your country if your fucking empire hadn’t violently destabilized their homelands in the first place with your colonization. There’s no other fucking reason why anyone would want to live in such a shithole country with your fuckass weather and tasteless food! Your people ruined the world! Don’t you realize? Don’t you-”

~~~ 

As Itadori kept yelling, letting out his frustration, Chest-Hair Guy shook his head and spoke over him: “Goddamn foreigners, mate.”

“Wonder what he’s saying?” The guy with the flat cap said casually.

Megumi wanted to kill all three of these white men — he genuinely did, but all he cared about was getting himself and Itadori away safely.

So he stepped in front of Itadori and tried to make eye contact with him, but Itadori’s eyes kept evading Megumi’s face to glare at the men behind him.

~~~

Fushiguro was in front of Yuji now, hands on both of his shoulders, facing him, trying to meet his eyes. Fushiguro’s mouth was moving, saying something, but Yuji couldn’t hear him. He could hardly even see him; he was so focused on glaring at the three awful men who had picked a useless fight out of nowhere. 

~~~ 

“Yuji! Yuji, listen to me. They’re not worth it. None of this is worth it. We won’t be able to change their minds with this argument. Let’s just go home. Yuji? Yuji, listen to me!”

Itadori’s eyes looked distant as he screamed, “And Japan isn’t perfect either! Our imperial legacies in…” his desperate argument lost on the three Englishmen who understood nothing.

~~~

Yuji’s voice was raw, angry, and grating. But none of it mattered.

Chest-Hair Guy chuckled. “Doesn’t matter what he’s saying. It all just proves that he’s a disgusting, pathetic faggot.”

In one swift, abrupt motion, Fushiguro suddenly turned around and punched the white man. Chest-Hair Guy fell to the ground, and his goons took a couple steps back in surprise. Yuji swore he had heard the crack of bone. 

 “SHUT UP!” Fushiguro yelled in English, his voice loud, raspy, and scary-sounding.

In the next moment, Fushiguro had punched Bald Guy in the gut, quickly removed the gun from his belt, and pocketed it. 

“Hey, you can’t-”

Fushiguro punched him hard enough to knock him down, and his friend in the stupid hat kneeled down to help. 

Fushiguro had already turned back towards the Chest-Hair Guy, grabbing his white shirt collar and pulling him up to lean in close to his face.

“What gives you the right to be so goddamn awful to people? What did we ever do to you?” Fushiguro shook him roughly.

Chest-Hair Guy smiled, and Fushiguro punched him again.

And again.

And again.

And-

“Megumi!” Yuji yelped as he saw loose teeth clack on the bloodied pavement. “You don’t have to kill the guy!”

Fushiguro whipped around, glaring at Yuji. His eyes were narrowed, bangs hanging low over his face, lips pressed tight. The expression on his face made Yuji take a step back in fear. Goddamn- Fushiguro was terrifying when he wanted to be.

Chest-Hair Guy chuckled, spitting out blood. “Well at least we know who the man in the relationship is.”

Fushiguro threw him forcefully to the ground, stood up quickly, and kicked him in the gut before snarling something at him in a low voice.

The two ugly friends rushed forward to help, but Yuji cut them off, punching the guy with the stupid hat in the face so hard that the hat flew off his head. He stumbled back, and Bald Guy caught him and pulled him away.

The punch felt good. Yuji didn’t have words to properly throw at them in an argument, but he could throw another punch. 

He advanced on the two men, who started scrambling backward, leaving their friend behind.

“It’s not worth it, mate!” the one in the dumb, flat hat said. “Those fags aren’t worth it.”

After making sure that they definitely weren’t coming back, Yuji spun around to find the woman.

~~~ 

“It all just proves that he’s a disgusting, pathetic faggot.”

Everything around Megumi was suddenly too loud, the blood rushing in his ears, the distant sounds of cars, the soft chatter from the bars that were still open. And rage rose up in Megumi’s chest like a tsunami. That man had no right to say something like that. Especially not to his boyfriend.

Megumi turned around in one quick movement and socked the man straight across the jaw, making him fall down to the ground with a surprised yelp. Megumi shook out his hand, seeing that the skin on his knuckles had split, but he couldn’t feel the pain. He was just angry.

“SHUT UP!” he yelled in English, kneeling down next to the man who had fallen to the ground and pulling him up to spit in his face. “What gives you the right to be so goddamn awful to people? To my boyfriend? What did we ever do to you?” The language felt clunky on his tongue but he spit out each word with force.

The man had the nerve to smile, blood between his teeth, and Megumi punched him again. This time his knuckles came away thoroughly bloody.

Itadori gasped from behind him. “Megumi, you don’t have to kill the guy!” 

Megumi turned to face Itadori, and fixed him with a fierce stare. Itadori had no right to complain now. Megumi was doing this for him, and it was Itadori’s fault in the first place.

The man on the ground chuckled darkly, even as Megumi was still holding him up by the collar, and spit blood and bone onto the concrete next to them. “Well, at least we know who the man in the relationship is.”

Megumi turned back to glower at him, head spinning with how wrong that sentence was, how wrong all of this was. He shoved the man down onto the ground and then got to his feet. Megumi kicked him, and the man curled in onto his side to try to protect himself.

Megumi leaned down, bracing himself on his knees. “You don’t know a goddamn thing about me.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Itadori lunge towards the other two men, hitting one of them solidly in the face with a loud smack.

The man on the ground at Megumi’s feet grinned bloodily. “Looks like the tranny knows how to fight after all.”

Megumi punched him again. The man’s face hit the concrete hard, and then Megumi grabbed him by the hair to pull his face up to look at him. 

In a dangerous tone, Megumi said, “Don’t ever say that word. And if you insult my boyfriend one more time, I’ll make damn sure you never breathe properly again.”

The man chuckled weakly, “Your English is almost passable.” His head lolled backwards when Megumi dropped him.

“You disgust me,” Megumi spat, then stood up and kicked the guy in the ribs. More blood and gore splattered on the pavement.

Megumi couldn’t bring himself to care.

~~~

Yuji ran over to the woman, who had hardly managed to drag herself away from the scene, her ankle still twisted painfully. She had managed to take off her shoes, the heel of one shoe snapped in half where the pair lay discarded to her side.

“Thank you,” she was repeating over and over again, tears brimming in her wide eyes. 

“You OK?” Yuji asked, insufficiently. 

The woman shook her head. Yuji pursed his lips, heart pounding. They needed to get her to a hospital. He took out his phone with trembling hands to try to search for the nearest emergency medical center.

The woman continued speaking to Yuji in a panicked tone, shaking her head and saying “no,” but his thoughts were too jumbled with adrenaline to parse through the English words.

“Sorry,” he said as realized that he needed Fushiguro’s help for this interaction, and turned around to go fetch his boyfriend…

…His boyfriend who was still beating a stranger to a pulp on the sidewalk.

“Megumi!” Yuji rushed towards him as the white man coughed up blood again.

Fushiguro kneeled down to Chest-Hair Guy again and growled, “This better be the last time you ever harass a queer person, you ignorant asshole.”

 Yuji noticed the glazed-over, dangerous look in those dark blue eyes as he pulled on his boyfriend’s arm to redirect him. “She needs your help,” he pleaded. “I can’t- I don’t-”

Fushiguro’s eyes sharpened their focus again. He looked beyond mad, a sort of silent rage that was now directed at Yuji. It made him afraid that Fushiguro would start yelling at him, but Yuji knew that Fushiguro understood the matter at hand was much more pertinent. 

As Chest-Hair Guy cowered in the fetal position on the pavement, Fushiguro stalked away without another word. Yuji scrambled to follow.

~~~

Megumi kneeled down on the asphalt next to the woman, assessing her broken ankle with precise care despite the anger burning behind his eyes.

“It’s definitely broken,” she was rambling. “I’ve never broken a bone before. Oh god, I can’t go to the hospital. Please don’t take me to a hospital. I don’t- I haven't got the money for it. I shouldn’t have- God, how could I have been so stupid? I don’t even- What would I have done without you two? Christ, thank you so much, I-”

“It’s okay,” Megumi said dismissively. “Do you have family we can call?”

“I already called my friend while you two were distracting those hooligans. Christ, mate, I don’t even know how to thank you, I’m so-”

“You do not need to thank us. We take care of our own.”

“Well thank you, anyway. My friend should be here soon, if I’m not mistaken. We’ve got another friend who’s a doctor. So I’ll be fine, I just- I can’t-” she was fully crying now, some mixture of relief, pain, and leftover fear.

Megumi stepped away, unable to handle the excessive outpouring of emotion.

“She’ll be fine,” he said pointedly to Itadori. “She called a friend to pick her up.”

Itadori was still fretting. “She needs to go to a hospital, Meg, she-”

“Says she can’t cover the cost,” Megumi raised his voice to speak over Itadori. “Things don’t work the same in this country. Circumstances are different, and you can’t help in the same way, despite how well-intentioned you might be.”

~~~

“You can’t help in the same way, despite how well-intentioned you might be.”

Yuji winced and drew back. Fushiguro’s lip curled unpleasantly, like he had more cutting things to say, but he just turned away from Yuji and made his way back over to the crumpled heap of a white man.

It was suddenly too quiet. 

The empty street hadn’t gotten any car traffic since they’d been here, streetlamps flickering pathetically in the mist that had started to descend from the night sky. The only sounds were muted commotion inside the corner pub, the sounds of pain from the woman, and Yuji’s own internal turmoil.

The whole evening had gone sideways, and he didn’t even know how to properly parse through what had just happened.

~~~

The man he’d pummeled had gone unconscious while Megumi had been talking to the woman. He considered calling an ambulance, and then decided that he didn’t want to be bothered.

Megumi hooked his hands underneath the man’s shoulders and dragged him out of the street, propping him up against the iron railings that lined the sidewalk. He took the gun out of his pocket, disarmed it, and tucked it into the man’s jacket. He threw the bullet casing off to the side and it clattered on the asphalt.

His face wrinkled in disgust as he realized how much blood he’d gotten on his hands. His knuckles were split and bruised, but he didn’t have time to think about his injuries as a car turned onto the street.

His first instinct was panic — they should hide the man’s body. He wasn’t dead, but…

Then the car slammed its brakes and pulled over haphazardly. The driver bolted out, running towards the woman on the street, blonde hair streaming like a ghost behind her. 

Megumi watched from a distance as the blonde woman collapsed on the pavement beside the injured trans woman. Her frenzied hands held the woman’s face as the two of them cried with panicked relief before embracing. Megumi heard more ‘oh my gods’ and ‘thank yous’ exchanged. Then Itadori carefully lifted the injured woman off the ground while her friend grabbed the broken high-heel shoes and held open the passenger-side door.

It was just another minute before everything was settled. Itadori raised his hand to bid them goodbye, the car drove off, and Itadori’s hand dropped by his side as he turned to Megumi.

And Megumi remembered that he was angry.

~~~

Yuji turned to his boyfriend to share his relief at the situation’s resolution, but when he saw Fushiguro’s expression, his relief shattered like concrete.

Avoiding Fushiguro’s eyes, he crossed the street, gaze fixed on the white man they’d left on the side of the path like crumpled paper.

“We should call an ambulance.”

“And have to explain what happened?” Fushiguro stood up and dusted off his pants. “Not a chance.”

“We could lie.”

“Right, because you’re such a great liar,” Fushiguro snapped sarcastically. He jerked his head in the direction they’d initially been headed. “Let’s go.”

Yuji looked at the man again, and guilt wracked up his spine. “So we’re just going to leave him here?”

Fushiguro’s body was coiled tightly as he faced Yuji. “I don’t care what happens to him,” he said cruelly.

“Just because he was an asshole, doesn’t mean he deserved this!” Yuji gestured at the unconscious man. 

“He got what was coming to him,” Fushiguro growled, eyes ablaze.

Frustration brewed in Yuji’s throat. He knew his boyfriend’s conviction, but he didn’t agree with it. “You didn’t have to immobilize the guy!” 

“And you didn’t have to pick a fight, but here we fucking are, Yuji!” Fushiguro held out his hands incredulously. “We’re in this mess because of you.” He jabbed a finger at Yuji’s chest.

~~~

Megumi didn’t have the energy or emotional capacity to deal with Itadori’s hurt expression at that moment. He turned on his heel and started walking off. “Let’s go. Now.”

He didn’t turn around, but could hear Itadori’s footsteps behind him. Megumi’s knuckles burned as he shoved his hands into his pants pockets.

“I wasn’t trying to pick a fight,” Itadori said from behind him. “I was trying to protect that woman, you know that.”

“And we could have helped her after getting away from those men.”

“I was providing a distraction. You could’ve taken her and gotten away!”

“And leave you behind?” Megumi scoffed. “Not a chance.” It was ridiculous that Itadori would even consider that as an option.

“Well you definitely didn’t help de-escalate when you fucking punched the guy!”

Megumi glared at the sidewalk, the edges of his vision blurry with residual wrath. “He called you a slur.”

“That hardly matters!” Itadori grabbed Megumi’s arm and whipped him around to face him. They stood stark-still on the sidewalk, angry heat charging the distance between them as they faced each other. “Did you even care that that woman was in danger?”

Megumi’s eye twitched as he stared down Itadori. “Of course I cared about her, that’s why I didn’t want to engage with those men. You made it worse by arguing with them.”

Itadori took a step forward. “They were saying harmful things, wrong things.”

Megumi laughed incredulously, and it came out cold and bitter. “They could barely understand your English, Yuji. How the fuck was that supposed to help her?”

“Well, I couldn’t just let them walk away after they insulted and attacked her!”

“YES YOU COULD!” Megumi shouted, glaring at him. “Yes, you fucking could, Yuji! You didn’t help at all by arguing!”

“People like us and that woman are going to keep getting harassed unless something changes.”

“Right, and you were going to change those three men’s beliefs? By shouting at them in Japanese?” Megumi shook his head in disbelief, another bitter laugh escaping him. This was ridiculous. It was ridiculous. How could Itadori be so stupid?

“Well, someone needs to challenge their beliefs! Or nothing will change.”

“Some people can’t change.”

“That’s not true!” Itadori took another step forward, eyes flashing.

“It is!” Megumi began to raise his voice again, fists clenched at his sides. “IT IS! Because you’re EXACTLY the same as you’ve always been!” He glared at Itadori, hoping his words cut deep. “You always have to play the hero, don’t you?” 

Itadori just looked at him like Megumi was the crazy one. “It’s not like YOU were doing anything to help! Christ, Meg.”

Megumi stepped forward, pointing at his own chest. “Oh, I wasn’t doing anything to help?” Another step forward. “I wasn’t helping? Do I need to remind you about the fucking GUN? You were arguing with armed men, Yuji! What were you even thinking?”

“That I needed to save her!”

“Oh yeah, sorry I forgot.” Megumi scoffed to punctuate his sarcasm, but he couldn’t tell if he wanted to laugh or cry. “You always need to be the fucking savior.” Why was Itadori always like this when it came to other people? It was going to get him killed one day. “You don’t think! You never fucking think, Yuji.”

“I was thinking about her!”

“And I was thinking about you!”

Itadori shook his head, eyes turned upward to the sky in rejection of Megumi’s statement, lips pursed tightly. “That’s selfish, Megumi.”

Megumi stepped towards him again. “Oh, I’m selfish for caring about you?” 

They were only two steps apart now.

“No, it’s selfish to only care about me,” Itadori pointed out, as if there was a difference. “She was right there. Her ankle was broken, Meg!”

They made eye-contact again, and Itadori’s expression revealed his disapproval. Honestly, Megumi could get over their disagreement on how to handle the situation. But to be looked at with such clear disappointment? It boiled his fucking bones. As if Itadori was the supreme authority on morality instead of just another rash, foolish boy blinded by his principles.

How could he look at him like that, as if he thought Megumi was a terrible person?

“I would have helped her,” Megumi heard himself justify his stance. “But I wasn’t going to risk my entire fucking life for her, Yuji.”

“But you’ll risk it for me?”

Megumi just stared at him like he was the dumbest person alive. “Yeah,” he clipped. “What’s not clicking?"

“God. I cannot believe you. You’re so- ugh!” Itadori crossed his arms over his chest and turned to the side, a single, cold shoulder facing Megumi. “I can’t fucking believe you.”

“No, I can’t believe YOU!” Megumi grabbed his shoulder and pushed, forcing Itadori to face him again. “It’s impossible to care about every single person in the world who’s ever been hurt. Shit like this happens every fucking day, and you aren’t there to help.”

Itadori turned his nose up at him. “And just because it happens all the time, it means that we should’ve done nothing? Walked right on by down the street and pretended not to see her?”

“No! Just that there was another way to handle it. The way you full-force charge into every crisis situation blindly is a gross tactical mistake. And I can help others, but I only put my life on the line for people who are important to me. I don’t feel guilty about that difference. It’s every person for themselves in this world. You don’t get to call me selfish just because I protect what I love.”

“But no one deserves to be hurt. Even if they’re a stranger who has no place in your life. Because it’s not every person for themselves! That’s such a horrible way to view the world. No one deserves to be hurt! No one-”

“For fuck’s sake, Yuji, grow up,” Megumi snarled. “We have to protect what’s ours, because no goddamn stranger is going to care about me out of the goodness of their heart or some crap. It’s not a fantasy world where everyone gets happy endings and we hold hands and dance in pretty little circles. I’m just trying to protect us.”

“Yeah, and so am I!” Itadori shouted. “But there’s nothing wrong with risking your life for other people too. Do you know how many people have risked their lives in struggle just for queer people to be able to express themselves in public?”

“Is that what this is about? Jesus, Yuji.”

But Itadori ignored him. “My kindness isn’t so limited that I’m going to pick and choose which people deserve protection. That’s not fair.”

Megumi shook his head, his thoughts feeling like they were on fire. Itadori was being so infuriatingly naive. “It’s not about kindness, Yuji, or queer identity. I’m talking about the fact that you think the only way to protect people is to risk your life. But no matter what you do, everyone ends up getting hurt in this world. You don’t fucking get to pretend that you’re exempt from that truth. You can help, but you shouldn’t risk your life for strangers. You can’t protect everyone. And you definitely have no business pretending to be the savior of all humankind with your kindness.” Megumi spat the last word at him like it was a curse. “Not after all the people you’ve hurt and killed.”

Itadori recoiled, taking a shaky step backwards, looking stung. “Fuck you, Meg.” 

Megumi exhaled in frustration. He knew it had been a low blow, but he didn’t fully feel bad for it at the moment. “Fuck me? Fuck ME? Are you serious? All I’m trying to say is that I don’t want you dead. If you can’t understand that- I don’t even-” Megumi balled his hands in his hair, hardly able to talk in full sentences from the anger festering in his chest. “Seriously? No- fuck you, Yuji.” He turned away from him, crossing his arms. “Fuck you.”

“I’D RATHER THEY KILL ME INSTEAD OF HER!” Itadori cried in anguish. “I’M JUST TRYING- FUck—” his voice breaking— “I’m trying to be a- a good person!”

Megumi blinked and turned back around, stunned. Itadori had started crying. His words seemed to echo in the mist around them.

“I’m trying to be good! I know that I- Sukuna- I’ve hurt lots of people… but as much as I can- I don’t want-” Itadori’s voice cut out, and he put his knuckle in his mouth to stifle a sob. 

Megumi’s chest was suddenly splitting right down the middle. 

“I don’t want to stand by and see more people get hurt, Megumi,” Itadori said in a small voice. “But me? There’s no reason for me to have everything that life’s given me. I don’t deserve to be protected. I don’t deserve any of it. So I wanted them to shoot me, if it meant that she got away safely.” 

“No-” Megumi watched, equally confused and terrified at the sudden change of tone in the conversation, as Itadori fell violently to his knees, sobbing. And Megumi just stood there, frozen, watching, trying to process, as Itadori continued:

“I don’t deserve anything. I wasn’t even supposed to- to live—”

“Stop—”

“—But I’m here, and I’m alive, and I have so… so much. And none of it’s fair. It’s not fair that someone like… like me has an overall wonderful life, when there are tons of other people who also deserve good things. It doesn’t make any sense that I got so fortunate. So I’m just trying to take that privilege and help every chance I get. I’m not trying to change the world or save every single person, I know that’s impossible. I’m just- I’m just trying to make myself useful for something beyond myself, or else it’s true… and I really don’t deserve to be alive.”

Megumi blinked again. “What are you saying?” he asked, voice torn between fear and frustration.

Itadori bit his knuckle again, shaking his head and turning away, little tear drops forming wet circles on the pavement.

“Yuji, what are you saying? Why-” Megumi rushed forward, his tone frantic now, and kneeled down in front of Itadori. “Why are you saying this?”

He thumbed at Itadori’s cheeks, trying to catch his tears and hold his face still enough to meet his gaze, but Itadori just squeezed his eyes shut, more tears streaming down his cheeks, and refused to look at Megumi. 

“Can we just go home?” he asked in a raw, broken voice.

Megumi was at a loss. 

What was going on? 

Maybe he’d been too harsh. 

Fuck- 

Megumi was still angry, and now sad and confused and terrified and worried and overwhelmed and he didn’t know what to do with any of those feelings.

“Yeah…” he muttered in a small voice, defeated. “Let’s go.”

He offered his right hand to Itadori, who took it, and they stood up together, the pink-haired boy still refusing to look at him.

Megumi wanted to pull away and cool off on his own at a distance, but he knew Itadori too well, knew how he was when he got upset about things involving his stupid savior morals: Itadori needed skin-contact to prevent him from dissociating and spiraling into his past memories.

Megumi had been too harsh, invoking Sukuna’s crimes to make a point, as if they had been Itadori’s fault. He shouldn’t have done it. He’d apologize for it later, of course, when he wasn’t as angry. But right now, all Megumi could do was use physical touch to remind Itadori that none of it meant he loved him any less. 

So Megumi held onto his boyfriend’s hand tightly, even as he walked one pace ahead to avoid looking at him. But he could hear as Itadori wiped at his face, his breathing still uneven with sobs. It made Megumi want to punch something. Maybe that British fucker was still on the ground behind them and Megumi could use him as a punching bag. 

But he kept walking forward. 

As they started descending the stairs to the subway station, Itadori slipped his hand away and buttoned up Megumi’s jean jacket around himself, hiding most of his outfit, save for the few centimeters of skirt that still flared out beneath.

Megumi said nothing.

Itadori curled one arm around his stomach, as if he was afraid someone might fling open the jacket to see what he was wearing underneath, even though they were the only ones on the subway platform. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Itadori brushed his pinkie finger against the edge of Megumi’s palm. “Is it okay?” he asked in a fragile voice.

Megumi simply clasped their hands together without replying.

In the harsh fluorescent light of the station, Megumi shoved his left hand back in his pocket so Itadori wouldn’t notice it bleeding.

The train arrived a couple minutes later, with a surprising amount of people in each subway car for close to 5 o’clock in the morning.

Itadori pulled his hand away again, and the two of them boarded the train without saying anything. They found seats near the back of the car, and Megumi’s eyes caught on Itadori’s bloodied knees. Of fucking course the idiot managed to get hurt. It pissed Megumi off, but he made no comment about it, realizing Itadori had probably scratched them when he had crumbled to the concrete during their argument. 

Megumi discreetly tangled their fingers together between them.

“Someone might see,” Itadori said weakly.

“And I’ll fucking beat them up, too, if I have to,” Megumi thought, but instead he just held on to Itadori’s hand tighter, not trusting himself to say anything.

As the train began to pull away from the station, Megumi ran over their conversation in his head, trying to pinpoint what it is that had made Itadori break down. Unfortunately, there were lots of things in their heated exchange after the fight that might’ve set Itadori off. Megumi had been so harsh. Why had he been so angry again?

Itadori had provoked an unnecessary fight... The douchebags had called him awful things... Megumi beat the shit out of one of them... Itadori had acted all annoyingly noble... 

So Megumi got mad…

…because Itadori had done a reckless thing without thinking of his own well-being or safety. 

It made Megumi so fucking angry. It’s like Itadori had no self-preservation instinct — he acted in ways that were somehow simultaneously selfish and selfless, and never cared about what happened to him. And that left Megumi to protect him, because otherwise the moron would get himself hurt, the way he always did. 

And the worst part is that Itadori thought he deserved to get hurt.

It was unbelievably frustrating.

When the train pulled up at their stop, Itadori tried to take his hand back, but Megumi held on tightly and didn’t let him.

They walked the block back to the hotel in silence and didn’t talk again until they got back to their hotel room.

Itadori flicked on the lights, unbuttoned the jean jacket, and handed it over to Megumi, who took it wordlessly.

“Your hand is bleeding,” Itadori said, pursing his lips as his eyes caught on the red and bruised skin on Megumi’s dominant hand.

“Are you going to tell me that I shouldn’t have punched that guy?” Megumi challenged, flinging his jacket on the random chair in the corner. He looked into Itadori’s eyes intently when he turned back around, searching for any signs of aggression.

But Itadori just looked defeated. He shook his head. “I was going to tell you that you should clean it off.”

“Well, you’re bleeding too.” Megumi gestured to his knees, where the blood had actually started to dribble down his shin, mixing with whatever golden body glitter was left on his skin.

Itadori led the way into the bathroom and looked through a few drawers before locating the first aid kit in the cabinet under the sink.

“You first,” he said, nodding to the toilet seat, signaling for Megumi to sit down.

Megumi was about to complain that he could do it himself, but he was having a really difficult time reading Itadori, and really didn’t want to make things worse… 

What had he meant ‘I don’t deserve to be alive’?

In the light of the bathroom, Megumi saw that there was a bit of blood on his white shirt, and there were a few dark stains on his pants too. That fucker must’ve somehow spit blood on Megumi. He sighed. He’d have to soak both articles of clothing to get the stains out.

Itadori sat on the cold tile floor in front of Megumi, cradling his bloody hand in his palm to inspect the injury before starting to clean it off. Itadori worked gently, methodically, and seriously, his head bent over Megumi’s hand, refusing to look anywhere else.

Megumi didn’t know what to say. Something had really hurt Itadori, but Megumi still didn’t feel that he was fully wrong about most of what he had said. Maybe it was the way he said it? Because, sure, admittedly it could’ve been phrased better. The comment about people Itadori had killed was definitely uncalled for. Should he apologize? What would he even apologize for? Just that one awful comment? For all of it? For yelling at him? 

Megumi wasn’t good with words when they mattered most. Which was also why this was frustrating. Itadori usually broke silences. Itadori knew what to say, especially after gaining a bigger vocabulary for healing from his therapy sessions. So why wasn’t he saying anything now? 

Megumi’s head felt like a tangled mess and he couldn’t think of a single way to start a sentence. What the fuck was wrong with him?

Itadori finished wiping off the excess blood and came in with antibacterial cream to disinfect the cuts. Megumi sucked in a breath through his teeth as a sharp, burning pain seeped through his skin.

Itadori’s hands paused momentarily, and then kept applying the cream.

“I’m sorry you got hurt,” Itadori mumbled, finally cutting through the silence like he usually did. “It’s my fault.”

That’s not… what Megumi expected to hear. 

He frowned. “I didn’t have to punch him. You didn’t make me do that.”

Itadori was still staring intently at Megumi’s hand as he cleaned out the wound. “I started the argument. We could’ve just kept walking, like you said. It was my fault.”

Megumi chewed on his lip. This isn’t what he wanted to hear from Itadori. None of that mattered anymore. He wanted to know why Itadori had crumbled to pieces on the sidewalk.

“I didn’t mean that,” Megumi offered after a few seconds of agonizing silence. “When I said it was all your fault… I didn’t mean that. No one is more to blame than anyone else for what happened. I was just mad.”

Itadori nodded, sitting back and letting the cream soak into Megumi’s hand, fizzing a little as it killed off the bacteria in the wound. “Yeah, and you were right to be mad at me.”

Fucking hell, Itadori didn’t understand anything.

“I wasn’t-” Megumi cut himself off. He was starting to sound angry again, so he took a deep breath and tried again. “I wasn’t mad at you. Not exactly. I’m just mad at- at-” he exhaled in frustration. How the fuck was he supposed to explain all this?

Itadori started unrolling a bandage, trying to gauge how much he would need. Then he carefully began to wrap it around Megumi’s hand, crossing it over his knuckles and between his fingers to cover the worst of the wound.

Itadori’s voice had a fragilely-calm quality to it as he said, “When we started dating again after I woke up from my coma, we agreed to communicate fully about our thoughts and feelings. Can you do that right now or do you need more time to process what happened tonight?”

Megumi bit the inside of his cheek, thinking it over. “Are you ready to communicate right now?” he asked Itadori.

Itadori looked up at him briefly before continuing to bandage Megumi’s hand. “Yeah, I am.”

Megumi took a deep breath. “Then I am too.”

“Then talk to me.”

Megumi looked up at the ceiling, sighing, as if a script would appear there and tell him what to say. “I’m angry… or I was angry because you ran into that situation without thinking about the consequences.” He watched for a reaction from Itadori, but the pink-haired boy just kept bandaging Megumi’s hand meticulously without looking up again. So Megumi went on. “And I was mad because they hurt you, which was why I punched them.”

“They hurt me way before they said that slur, Megumi,” Itadori mumbled.

“What?” Megumi's heart pounded loudly in his chest. 

Itadori shook his head. “You finish first.”

Megumi blinked a few times, and then continued trying to untangle the mess inside his head. “And I was furious with them for multiple reasons. Obviously I was upset with how they treated that woman, and I wanted to help, but I only really got angry when they were being assholes to you. And I just- I said it was your fault because… because you always do this thing where you run into situations headfirst without thinking.” Megumi used his free hand to fiddle with the chains hanging from his belt loops so he could have something to focus on before delving further into his emotions: 

“And it feels like I’m the one who has to protect you from getting hurt in those situations. And I know- I know you don’t really need my protection, but sometimes it feels like you don’t care about yourself at all. And I- I can’t- I can’t lose you again. And most of the times I’ve lost you before… obviously that was… you know, Suku- that was his fault. But the way you rush into things like that is scary, because it feels like I could lose you so easily. Because you don’t care enough about yourself.

“And Yuji, I know you do it because you’re selfless, but it’s also so fucking selfish of you. It’s so selfish to run into fights where you could get hurt when there are people who care about you. Like- I have to be the one to save you because it feels like you… you would tear yourself apart if it meant you could save the rest of the world. But I don’t care about the rest of the world, I only care about you. And I don’t want you to give up your safety for the sake of potentially making things better for someone else. I just want you to be okay. And I was angry—” Megumi took another deep breath, realizing that his breathing had turned rapid and frantic as he had been talking. “I was angry because, in situations like those, it feels like you’re throwing all regard for your life away for the sake of the ‘greater good’ or whatever the fuck. But I don’t care about the greater good, I just need you in my life, and I need you to be okay.”

The silence settled heavily between them as Megumi finished pouring out his heart. 

It felt much better to have said all that.

Itadori fastened the bandage and dropped Megumi’s hand. He stood up from the floor, his head bowed down, and when Megumi looked up into his face, he saw that Itadori’s eyes were brimming with tears.

Megumi held out his hand to touch him. “Yuji-”

Itadori covered his mouth with his fist and turned away.

Megumi retracted his hand, instead standing up and saying, “Let me clean off your knees.” He picked up the first aid kit from the floor and set it down next to the sink. “Up here,” Megumi said, patting the bathroom counter. “Come on.”

Itadori hoisted himself up next to the sink, his arms trembling slightly as he did. He folded his hands in his lap and waited patiently as Megumi began cleaning the blood, dirt, and glitter off from the skin around his kneecaps.

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Megumi said softly.

“No, I’m going to. I just don’t want to cry while I do.” A broken, frail sound that was probably supposed to be a laugh escaped Itadori’s lips as he tilted his head up to the ceiling and wiped at his eyes.

Megumi continued cleaning his wound, and after a few minutes, Itadori spoke again:

“Everything you said just now… you’re not too far from the truth. I thought I was fine… but I had lost that battle long before they called me a fag, Megumi. The slur didn’t even phase me. I was- the thing the chest-hair guy said… ‘people like you don’t deserve to be alive.’ I know he meant it in a heterosexist way. Definitely racist, too. But it just… hit a different nerve for me.”

Megumi’s chest felt tight around his pounding heart, suffocating, as he began applying the antibacterial cream to both of Itadori’s knees.

“Because that’s what I think I’ve been telling myself for a while,” Itadori said with an exhale.

Megumi looked up at him frenziedly. His throat started feeling tight at Itadori’s words. Itadori had been… what? 

No. 

No no no no- 

He listened in fear as Itadori continued.

“I’ve hurt people, like you said. I’ve even hurt you, Megumi—” Megumi opened his mouth to argue, but Itadori put a finger to his mouth to shush him— “Don’t even try to tell me I’m wrong. I remember what it was like for you, when my body wasn’t fully my own. And you can say that your scars are his doing, but the truth is that he was enabled by me. So I’ve hurt you. 

“And I’ve hurt so so so many people, and I don’t deserve to be alive. And so-” Itadori choked back a sob. “So I’ve been trying to make up for it. Trying to be good… so that whatever higher power decided to let me live could see that… that I’m not wasting my chance. I should be dead, but I’m not, and so I’m trying to make things better.

“I know- I know that I’m just one person, and I can’t- it’s impossible to be the savior of humankind or whatever the term you used was. But I’m trying to make up for the fact that I don’t deserve anything I have by being so good- so fucking good- that maybe it’ll outweigh all the bad things I’ve done. And then maybe I can convince myself that my life is justified. And maybe- maybe…” Itadori’s lower lip trembled. “Maybe if I get hurt more, that’ll take away the hurt from someone else who doesn’t deserve it.”

Megumi could feel his heart tearing in half. 

His vision was blurry and his hands shook as he plastered bandaids on the deepest cuts in Itadori’s knees, leaving the more minor scrapes uncovered to breathe.

Megumi squeezed his eyes shut to try to clear his tears and shook his head. “No. No, that’s not fair, Yuji. Yuji, that’s not fair!” He didn’t mean to shout, but his voice came out louder than he intended. He grabbed onto Itadori’s arms and looked up at him. “Don’t say that. Please, please, I- Yuji-” 

Itadori bit his knuckle again to keep from crying, and Megumi took a few deep breaths to try to calm his hammering heart and racing mind. 

When he’d regained some of his composure, Megumi pulled Itadori’s hand away from his mouth, kissing the part of his knuckle where Itadori had left red teeth-marks. “Yuji, you don’t deserve to be hurt. Everyone’s done bad things. That doesn’t mean you have to go through your life trying to justify the fact that you’re alive.”

“I have-” Yuji gasped through a sob. “I have so much guilt, Megumi. It would’ve been easier if I wasn’t… here.”

No, no- Itadori shouldn’t be saying these things. Itadori- Itadori was everything to him. Itadori was-

Megumi could feel his body freaking out. He knew this anxious response well. He knew he couldn’t make the feeling stop, but he knew how to communicate past it. Megumi reminded himself of his trust in his partner, his love, and took a deep breath. 

They had been through worse before.

They could work through this, too.

“Yuji, please, please listen to me.” Megumi cupped Itadori’s face, brushing his thumbs over Itadori’s cheekbones, trying to smooth away the tears, but more just kept coming. And Itadori’s face was scrunched up so painfully — the big scar on his face wrinkled, his hands clinging desperately to Megumi’s shirt — that Megumi started to cry too.

“Yuji, I love you. You’re everything. I wouldn’t be- I couldn’t do anything without you in my life.”

“Meg, you just said that you’re angry at me for being this way, and that you feel like you have to protect me all the time. I’m just a burden on your life. I can’t- I don’t want to do that to you.” Itadori wiped his nose in the crook of his elbow, sniffling. 

“Yuji- no. No, you’re not a burden, and I’m doing all of this because I want to. I promise, I want to care for you the way that I do. Sure, it makes me anxious when you get like this because it’s an echo of how we used to be, but I know we’ve grown. You’re not a burden, Yuji. I love you.”

Itadori sobbed despairingly, and Megumi kept holding his face as gently and as solidly as he could, tears sliding down his own cheeks too.

“Yuu, baby, listen to me-” Megumi pleaded. “Listen. Yes, I was angry for a while back there. But I- I would never, never, want you to disappear from my life. None of it was your fault. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I come from a long fucking line of shit that made me wish I was dead too.” Megumi dropped his hands to rub at Itadori’s upper arms. “I want to live for you. And yes, yes, I’m so selfish, Yuji. I’m so fucking selfish, but I need you here. And I want you here. And I want to protect you, and none of that work is ever going to be a deal breaker for me. You’re not a burden.

“And Yuji- Yuu, listen. Look at me, baby, please. Listen: everyone does bad things, okay? That doesn’t mean we all deserve to die. You’re the best type of person there is, way better than me. And do you know how I know that you’re one of the best people that’s ever walked this entire shithole of a planet?”

Itadori wiped his nose on the back of his hand, looking down at Megumi through red-rimmed eyes, waiting for his answer.

“Bad people don’t ever try to be better,” Megumi whispered, placing his hands back around Itadori’s face and pressing their foreheads together. “And Yuji- oh, my love,” he spoke softly, looking Itadori in the eyes and feeling his breath on his lips. “You are so kind to everyone you meet that it’s infuriating. Because I could never be that good. I’ve never even met anyone else who’s so purely kind.”

Itadori choked out a noise that sounded like a strangled laugh. Megumi smiled weakly, pulling his face away slightly to look at Itadori and rubbing his thumbs over his cheeks again, caressing the twin scars under his eyes.

“You don’t have to prove anything, Yuji. You deserve to be alive. I’ll stake anything to that claim— You deserve to be here. And you definitely don’t have to sacrifice your well-being to be worthy of what you have. And I’m so fucking selfish, Yuji. Because I don’t deserve you. But I want you so bad, and that’s why I’m going to protect you with everything I can possibly-”

“You’re wrong.” Itadori curled his hands around Megumi’s wrists. “It’s me who doesn’t deserve you, Megumi.”

Megumi let out a feeble laugh. Oh god, they were both helpless. “Maybe neither of us deserve each other, then. So is it okay with you if we stay alive together despite that?”

Itadori nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and causing a few more tears to overflow from his eyes. “That’s how I’ve dealt with it,” Itadori said under his breath. “No one deserves anything, and we get things at random. Maybe I wasn’t meant to be here, but there’s no changing the fact that I am, so I’m just going to try my best to go along with it.”

“Exactly.” Megumi caught Itadori’s stray teardrops with his thumbs. “Exactly, Yuu, it’s okay. There’s no need to feel guilty. There are no sinners and saints. There’s just people who make decisions and take actions and have to live with the consequences. Please don’t ever say you don’t deserve to be alive. You’re the most wonderful thing in this world for me, do you understand?”

The tears on Megumi’s cheeks had dried, and he stood on his tiptoes to start kissing away Itadori’s tears.

“I’m sorry for making you anxious,” Itadori said, allowing himself to get showered in soft kisses. “I know what you’re saying is true.”

Megumi pulled back a couple centimeters, just enough to say, “I know, Yuji. And I’m sorry I wasn’t able to properly be there for you earlier, in the middle of that random, horrible street.”

“It’s not your fault,” Itadori muttered.

But Megumi insisted, “I should have been better.”

After a pause, Itadori said, “I’m sorry I argued.”

Megumi pressed closer to him, standing on his tip-toes again, hands pressing into Itadori’s thighs. “I’m sorry I didn’t back you up. Unless you want to count the punch-”

“No,” Itadori put his hands on Megumi’s hips and giggled, almost sounding normal again. “I meant- I’m sorry I argued with you.”

“Oh, my love—” Megumi pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead— “I’m more sorry. But arguments are normal. It’s okay.”

Itadori kissed Megumi’s chin, lips wet from the tears. “You know you’re not going to lose me, right? I’d never intentionally leave you.”

Megumi caught Itadori’s lips with his own, kissing him deeply enough that when he pulled away, he could taste salt. “I know, Yuu. But I hope you know that I also won’t stop protecting you when I can, because you can really be such an idiot sometimes-”

Itadori laughed, cutting Megumi’s sentence short. Itadori was actually laughing his normal, beautiful, loud, heartwarming laugh, even though the tears on his face still hadn’t dried. And he looked so raw and wrecked, but so strong and so divine in that moment that Megumi wanted to unravel in his arms. 

“You’re my idiot, though,” Megumi muttered lovingly as Itadori kept laughing, softer now. “And I’m going to protect you. And I’m going to take away as much of your pain as possible, so that if you want to keep trying to save the rest of the goddamn world from getting hurt, at least you’ll have me to fall back on. Understood?”

Itadori cupped Megumi’s face and pulled him into another kiss. “This is exactly what I mean when I say I don’t deserve you, Meg,” Itadori mumbled into his mouth.

Megumi shook his head, balling his hands into fists atop Itadori’s thighs. “I have to disagree. Plus, we already came to an arrangement: neither of us deserve the other, and that’s why we’re together, right?”

Itadori grinned, his dimples shiny with remnant tears. “Right!” He brushed Megumi’s hair away from his face, gazing down at him adoringly. “God, Meg- I love you so much,” Itadori uttered in a strained voice.

Megumi felt his chest blossoming, the feeling so overpowering that when he replied, “I love you too, Yuji,” it felt like the only truth he had ever spoken.

Megumi shoved his bloody clothes in a plastic laundry bag, along with all his other dirty clothes from their trip that needed to be washed upon their return home. 

Then Itadori forced the both of them to brush their teeth even though they were exhausted, insisting that it was a crucial part of hygiene — Megumi didn’t relent until after Itadori threatened to withhold kisses from him unless he brushed his teeth.

“The latter part of tonight was pretty shit, huh?” Itadori said, sitting on the counter again, legs swinging and heels thumping against the sink cabinets.

Megumi spit out the last of the toothpaste in his mouth. “Yeah, you don’t have to say that twice.”

“I’m glad we’re not fighting anymore, though. I would’ve hated sitting on the plane next to you if we didn’t talk.”

“Me too.”

“See? Communication is good!” Itadori said, poking Megumi’s shoulder.

Megumi rolled his eyes and rinsed out his mouth before saying, “I never said it was bad, I just suck at it sometimes.”

Itadori leaned back against his hands and tilted his chin to the ceiling. “We both suck at it now and then. But once you get started, you’re really good at knowing what to say.”

Megumi washed off his toothbrush and placed it back in its place between the two sinks. “You think?” 

Itadori hummed in affirmation. “Better than my therapist, sometimes.”

Megumi chuckled as they finished up in the bathroom.

“Yuji?”

“Mhmm?”

“Will you let me hold you tonight? Or I guess, it’s not night anymore- but, like, let me hold you while we sleep?”

Itadori cracked a smile. “Are you asking to be the bigger spoon?”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Itadori’s eyes glinted teasingly. “But only if you can carry me to bed.”

Megumi snorted. “Easily.”

Itadori’s lip curled affectionately. “You sure about that, pretty boy?”

Megumi came to stand between Itadori’s legs, curling his hands underneath Itadori’s thighs. “Not sure who you’re calling ‘pretty boy’ when I’m about to carry you into our bedroom like a princess.”

Itadori slipped his hands around Megumi’s neck and Megumi lifted him up off the counter, Itadori’s legs going to wrap around his waist in anticipation of falling.

“Relax,” Megumi chuckled. “I’m not going to drop you.”

Megumi set him down on their bed, and quickly followed him onto the mattress. The first sun rays had already started to peek over the tallest buildings in the city skyline. But they just closed the blinds to darken the room before settling beneath the starch-white sheets of the hotel bed. 

Megumi pulled Itadori into his chest. “I’m sorry about tonight, Yuu,” he whispered to Itadori. “I promise I’ll do everything I can to make sure it never happens again.”

“Me too,” Itadori mumbled, his voice already sounding heavier and tired.

Megumi put his hand in Itadori’s hair to massage his head soothingly. As always, Itadori hummed at the touch.

Megumi kissed him lightly. “Goodnight, Yuu.”

Itadori muttered into Megumi’s skin, “Goodnight, baby.”

At least they would be home again tomorrow.