Archive of Our Own

“Oh, hey Inumaki,” Yuuji greets, finishing a long slurp of his noodles. Fushiguro, sitting across from him, waves one-handedly to their upperclassman without even looking up from his book. Technically, Yuuji is also supposed to be reading for class tomorrow, but he hasn’t bought his own copy of the book yet, nor did he have any intention of doing so anytime soon. He and Kugisaki would just have to pester Fushiguro in the morning for the cliffnotes or bribe him with one of the protein drinks he occasionally grabbed from the vending machine. 

Inumaki doesn’t even look over at them. In a ghost-like trance, he shuffles past them and into the kitchen in a pair of fluffy slippers that don’t once leave the ground. Wrapped in some woefully oversized blanket-sweatshirt contraption with fleece cat ears on the hood, he wears an expression so desolate that Yuuji has to blink about six times to be certain that he’s actually looking at his Senpai and not a strange imposter. Inumaki was usually a pretty tough guy, but right now it looks like it’s taking every ounce of his strength just to get to the kitchen.

It takes him three tries to open the freezer, hand falling all the way back to his side between each attempt. Finally, he gets it unhooked and he reaches in to grab a carton of ice cream, tucking it closely to his chest. Then, he opens the silverware drawer and starts picking up and inspecting every individual spoon, placing the rejects in a pile on the counter one by one as he goes. 

Confused, Yuuji turns his attention back to Fushiguro, hoping that the other boy is seeing what he’s seeing, but he looks entirely unfazed by the clattering of silverware. He wonders if he should speak up- ask Inumaki if he needs any help or something- but gets the eerie and unfamiliar sense that he should keep his mouth shut. Yuuji still wasn’t sure where he stood with any of the second years, and just witnessing this behavior was spooky enough. 

Finally, Maki walks in and puts Yuuji out of his misery. She rolls her eyes when she sees her classmate, but there’s not even an ounce of surprise on her face. 

“The big one is in the dishwasher, somebody used it already.” she calls from the doorway. Inumaki drops the spoon in his hand and it clatters against the floor loudly enough to startle Fushiguro, but not enough to make look him up from his reading. 

Slowly, Inumaki turns around to face them all. In the ten seconds since Maki told him the news, his face has gone from pale and lifeless to red and puffy. Big shiny tears well in the corners of his eyes as his bottom lip begins to quiver. The face is so unmistakably and unreasonably sad that it almost didn’t seem real- more like an emoji Kugisaki would use liberally in their group chat after a slight inconvenience presented itself.   

“Oh, stop crying you big baby,” Maki chides, following him into the kitchen. “I’ll wash it for you.” Inumaki sniffles in response and steps aside. 

Yuuji watches in bemusement as Maki pulls out a (truly giant) spoon from their dishwasher and hand washes it with care while Inumaki leans patiently on her shoulder waiting. She holds it out to him when she's done, much the same way you would hand a rattle to a toddler, and Inumaki takes it eagerly, all his tears suddenly vanished into thin air. He turns on his heels, ostensibly to go lock himself back in his room, but Maki catches him by the arm before he can even take a step. 

“Ah, ah, ah- did you eat any real dinner?” Maki demands. Inumaki’s shoulders slump and he flops his head to one side, as if the very idea of dinner is exhausting to him. Maki tugs at his sleeve before he can escape and drags him back into the kitchen grousing, opening a cupboard and poking around till she finds a small bag of crackers. “Eat these. It’s better than nothing, okay?” 

He shoots her a petulant look and holds up both of his hands, showing her that they’re too full for him to carry anything else. 

“Open,” she instructs. Inumaki unhooks his jaw and Maki places the bag between his teeth while he bites down, not put out by the gesture at all.  She gives his hair a sympathetic ruffle (well, sympathetic by Maki’s standards at least- she probably could have been a little gentler) and sends him on his way. Yuuji cranes his neck to watch him go, still staring blankly ahead and never so much as looking over to the first years as he goes.

“Um. What just happened?” Yuuji asks when he’s gone, still unsure of what he’s just witnessed. 

The cousins roll their eyes in tandem, as if that were a response. 

“Ugh,” Maki relents. “Ignore him. He gets all lovesick and sulky for Yuuta every once in a while.”

“Okkotsu?” Yuuji asks, startled. “Lovesick? Wait, are the two of them… like, together?”

“Yeah, they’re doing the whole long distance thing while Yuuta is abroad,” she explains. “Whenever we have too much free time, Toge gets all emo about it though. Hopefully Gojo gives him a mission or something soon so we don’t have to deal with it for too much longer. I’d avoid using the big spoon for a little while though, just in case.” 

She turns to leave, but not without stopping to give Fushiguro a little flick on the head as she goes. He swats at her, but of course she’s too quick and scoots away before he can actually land anything on her. 

“Fushiguro!” Yuuji scolds when he’s sure Maki is out of earshot. “Why didn’t you tell me that Okkotsu and Inumaki were dating?” 

“I wasn’t aware that it was my responsibility to keep you updated on the upperclassman’s romantic involvements,” he tells him, peeved. 

“Wait involvements, plural?” Yuuji asks. “Who else is dating!?” 

“You’re impossible,” Fushiguro says with a shake of his head, turning a page. “Why would it matter to you anyway?” 

“Fushiguro, you know what this means, right?” Yuuji knows he’ll have to take extra measures if he’s going to get the other boy’s full attention, so he reaches out and spreads his hand over the face of the book between them. Fushiguro twitches as Yuuji’s pinky brushes his thumb, looking up with alarm. Yuuji expected to be brushed off immediately, so he takes advantage of the momentary lapse while he can. “We have to cheer Inumaki-Senpai up!” 

He’s using the term specially so he can appeal to Fushiguro, who always referred to the second years as such. It does nothing to convince him.

“And why would we do that?” he muses, recovering from his shock to cock his head and narrow his eyes with practiced annoyance. 

“Because he’s sad and we can help,” Yuuji insists. It still isn’t enough. “Think about how happy Panda and Maki would be if we did! And Inumaki would probably do better on his next mission. And didn’t you say you really respected that Okkotsu guy? This would totally get you on his good side!”  

“Did something I do,” he says, expression darkening considerably, “Give you the impression that I was ever on his bad side?”

Okay, ouch- scary. Yuuji backs off a little, shifting the conversation before Fushiguro can settle fully into his shadows- he knows all too well that there would be no pulling him out once he got there. 

“Aw, come on. You know I’ll just screw it up if I do it on my own!” he tells the other boy, noticing for half a second that their fingers are still touching, just barely. “I need you, Fushiguro.” 

That weird look of alarm flickers back into Fushiguro’s eyes, a look he’d usually reserve for a mission or an important class exercise. Now that Yuuji thought about it, Fushiguro rarely made any kind of expression unless the circumstances were dire.  

“Pleeeeease,” Yuuji tacks on, feeling his chest squeeze in anticipation as he puts on his best pout. Surely Fushiguro was getting ready to crack. 

A long moment passes. Yuuji holds his breath. Maybe they both do. 

And then Fushiguro lets out a long, exaggerated sigh and shakes his head in resignation. “What did you have in mind?” 

“Yes!” Yuuji cheers, a victorious smile cracking across his face. Fushiguro slides a hand between his hair and forehead, looking down at the table as if to shield himself from Yuuji’s glow. “Whatever you wanna do! I was thinking food or something? What does Inumaki like?”

“Please do not say-”

“Onigiri! He likes onigiri!” Yuuji exclaims, wondering why he hadn’t thought of it before. 

“We’re not doing that,” Fushiguro grumbles back at him, rubbing his eyebrows in exasperation. “Just because he speaks in-”

“Oh, duh!” Yuuji realizes. “He was out here getting ice cream! He’s already moved on to the sweet portion of his night, so we should probably respect that. If he likes ice cream that much, maybe we could give him one of those fancy bars Kugisaki hides in the back of the freezer behind the frozen vegetable bags?” 

“She’ll ki-”

“Kill us, yeah you’re right,” Yuuji confirms, thinking better of it. 

“Not us,” Fushiguro clarifies, “You.” 

“Aw, come on. We’re supposed to be partners in crime here!” Yuuji coaxes. Fushiguro softens a bit at this, a thoughtful expression settling on his face. 

“If you’re serious about it," he says offhandedly, "Gojo-Sensei brought me back some sweets on his last mission. I’ve still got a bag in my room we can give him- I didn’t really have much interest in it anyway.” Yuuji contemplates this for a moment, slightly hurt. He isn’t sure what he’s more offended by: that Gojo brought back treats for Fushiguro and not him? Or that Fushiguro had candy he didn’t want and he didn’t immediately offer it to Yuuji in the first place? The latter, he decides- but it hardly seemed like the time to bring it up.

Neither of them can think of an alternate plan- or rather, Yuuji sees no need to- so he follows Fushiguro back to his room. 

“Do you think it’s enough?” he worries aloud, leaning on the other boy’s doorframe as he roots through his nightstand. Fushiguro doesn’t say as much, but Yuuji assumes it would be off limits for him to actually go into the room. He'd already pushed his luck enough for the day. “Maybe we should make him a card? Are you any good at drawing? Or calligraphy?” 

“Calligraphy?” Fushiguro deadpans, coming up with the candy and a bored expression. “You’re joking, right?” They both know he isn’t, but no one presses the issue. 

The walk to Inumaki’s room is short, but Yuuji is so anxious to see what’ll happen that it drags on forever. He reaches out his hands and glides his fingers absentmindedly against the walls of the hallway as he walks. Fushiguro just shoves his into his pockets, cool as ever. It isn’t till they get to Inumaki’s door that Yuuji notices the telltale squeeze of Fushiguro’s shoulders- they always inched closer to his ears when he was nervous about something. 

If they hadn’t already known which room belonged to Inumaki, they definitely would’ve been able to figure it out from the volume of the power ballad blasting out from beneath this door. Fushiguro gestures to the door and steps aside, signaling that it’s Yuuji’s job to knock. Yikes. Yuuji swallows hard, suddenly wondering if it’s really the best idea to interrupt him at a time like this, but he goes for it anyway. 

“Inumaki!” he calls to the door. “We heard that you’re… you know, sad and stuff! So we came to cheer you up!” 

There’s no answer. Yuuji presses his ear to the door, but can’t hear anything besides the muffled music through the wood. Fushiguro rolls his eyes and steps in closer to take over the operation. 

“We brought food,” he announces dryly. 

Almost immediately, the large thud of something heavy hitting the door rings out. The two of them startle, jolting backwards from the door as it creaks open. There’s a textbook at their feet- Inumaki has chucked it across the room and somehow managed to hit the door handle dead on, which Yuuji has to admit is fairly impressive.  

Inumaki himself is in a heap on the floor, curled up under a pile of blankets and pillows in total darkness. His carton of ice cream has been emptied and tossed aside and the giant spoon has been placed gingerly next to him. Fushiguro flicks on the lights and an actual hissing noise emerges from the nest. Yuuji freezes in his spot, but Fushiguro quickly apologizes and turns the overhead off, opting to switch the lamp on Inumaki’s dresser instead. There’s no immediate response of distaste for this, so hopefully that means they haven’t offended him. 

“Um…” Yuuji starts, not exactly sure where he’s heading with this. Inumaki answers for him, a single hand appearing from beneath a blanket, outstretched. 

Fushiguro is the one holding the candy, so Yuuji nudges him forward. Of course, the other boy nudges back, trying to drop the bag into Yuuji’s hands. It goes on this way for a moment- a silent battle of shoulder bumps and little shoves- till eventually Fushiguro scoffs and steps forward, crouching awkwardly to deposit the little bag of candy into Inumaki’s eager hand. 

A head pops up from underneath a pillow as Inumaki inspects the offering. Yuuji sucks in an anxious breath from the sidelines. 

“Ikura,” he says simply, handing the bag back to Fushiguro and retreating like a turtle into its shell. “Okaka.” 

Oof. Yuuji didn’t know the intricacies of Onigiri language like Fushiguro and the second years did, but he knew enough to figure out what the rough translation of that was: fuck no. 

He looks to Fushiguro for confirmation, but the other boy is busy looking down at the package of candy in his hands as he slowly backs away. Inumaki’s hand reaches out again, but this time it seems like he’s looking for something, patting the ground until it gets closer and closer to- yikes, his bookshelf. 

“We’re going!” Fushiguro assures, putting the pieces together an instant before Yuuji does and springing into action. In hopes to leave things the way they found them, Yuuji tries to flick the lamp back off, but Fushiguro grabs him by the sleeve of his uniform and yanks him out the door before he can. He closes the door behind them both as another loud crash booms from inside the room. From the sound of it, he’s managed to hit the lamp dead on. Yuuji realizes with a shiver that his head was right in front of it mere seconds ago. 

“What did he say?” Yuuji whispers once the shock has worn off. He doesn’t want Inumaki to hear them talking, in fear that he might come back after them. 

“The candies are mango flavored,” Fushiguro explains, tossing Yuuji the bag. “And apparently, he really hates mangoes.” 

Thoughtfully, Yuuji tears open the bag and pops one of the candies in his mouth. Yeah, he could see how this wouldn’t be someone’s thing if they didn’t like mangoes. Luckily for Yuuji though, he did like mangoes. He offers the open bag to Fushiguro but he waves him off. 

“Well that was even more of a disaster than I gave you credit for,” he says, not quite meeting Yuuji’s eyes. “If you’re done, we have plenty of homework to-”

“Done? Who said anything about being done?” Yuuji exclaims. “We made things worse! We can’t just quit now!” Fushiguro looks utterly unconvinced- pained even, shaking his head vigorously as Yuuji continues speaking. “There’s loads of things we haven’t tried yet. Do you have any pictures of Okkotsu? We could print them out? Oh! Or, like, make a life size cut out? I still think we could circle back to the calligraphy thing if that-”

“Give me your phone.” The other boy finally erupts, still not looking at him. Confused, Yuuji pulls it out of his pocket and Fushiguro snatches it, pulling out his own as he does. He looks more frustrated than usual as he copies a number from his own phone into Yuuji’s. Yuuji wishes he could do something to calm him down, but doesn’t know what would make things better instead of worse. Maybe he shouldn’t have roped Fushiguro into this in the first place, he realizes. He really doesn't like that he’s made the other boy so miserable. 

“Maybe the vending machine has something mango-less?” he suggests gently- that would at the very least end things quickly- but Fushiguro rolls his eyes and motions for him to be quiet as the phone starts to ring on speaker in his hands. The line clicks on.

“Okkotsu-Senpai?” He says formally, using his most official voice. “It’s Fushiguro, from Jujutsu Tech.” 

“Megumi!” A voice crackles through the phone. The distance is clear- the slight delay, the grainy quality- but Yuuji can still get a sense for Okkotsu’s deep, easy voice. He sounds more like an adult than a high school student- but then again, so did Fushiguro most of the time. “What’s up? Whose phone are you calling from?” 

“No one you need to concern yourself with,” Fushiguro says pointedly, cocking an eyebrow up at Yuuji. Yuuji pretends to unsheath a dagger from his hip and drive it into his heart, half-crumbling against the wall theatrically as the other boy continues to speak. “Any chance you can video chat right now? Inumaki-Senpai is in a bad mood and wants to talk to you.” 

“He is? What’s wrong?” The phone makes a little ringing noise. Yuuji leans over to see that he’s requesting to add video to the call. Fushiguro makes a disgruntled face before accepting and pushing Yuuji out of the frame. 

“You, I’m guessing,” Fushiguro reports. “Or rather, the lack of you.”

“Oh!” Okkotsu realizes. Yuuji edges close enough to the screen to see a flash of black hair and crinkling eyes as the upperclassman laughs. Fushiguro shoves him back again, getting Yuuji right in the ribcage and still managing to keep his facial expression completely steady for the camera. “He could have just called me?” 

“I think he likes being sad,” Fushiguro guesses, sighing. “I’ll hand you over to him.” 

This time, Fushiguro doesn’t even bother knocking. He just kicks the door open and marches in. Yuuji waits like a coward in the doorway, ready to shield himself from an assault just in case this doesn’t go their way. 

“Put the fucking book down.” he hears Fushiguro demand from inside. “We brought you a peace offering, alright?” 

But there’s no response from Inumaki until Okkotsu pipes up. “Toge?” 

Blankets explode from all sides. A particularly fluffy one statics to the leg of Fushiguro’s pants and he has to kick multiple times to get it off while Yuuji tries not to giggle. Inumaki grabs the phone with both hands and jumps on to his bed, suddenly completely revived. 

“Yuu...ta?” Inumaki says quietly, still in disbelief. Yuuji has never heard Inumaki use any word that wasn’t a command or a rice ball ingredient before, so Okkotsu must really be special to him. The way he smiles and holds the phone close to him, it makes something in Yuuji’s heart lurch. He looks at Fushiguro, the same way he always does, and he seems to be staring at the exchange too. Yuuji can’t tell what he’s thinking though, not from the back. His shoulders aren’t squeezed, but they aren’t exactly slack either. 

“That’s our cue,” he tells Yuuji, turning on his heel and brushing past quickly to get through the door. Wistful for some reason, Yuuji stares at the couple, cooing and exchanging exuberant hellos, for another long second before pulling the door closed behind them. “It worked. Happy now?” 

“Happy…” Yuuji considers. He tilts his head and smiles, closing his eyes. He can’t help but picture what it would be like, to have someone so excited to see him, even just through a phone screen. And when Okkotsu picked up the phone- he sounded so genuinely worried. Was that love? Wanting to know that someone was okay, protected from even the slightest and most mercurial of inconveniences, at all times?  “Yeah. I’m happy they’re happy. Aren’t you?” 

Fushiguro seems taken aback by this, stumbling backward and into the wall. His face twists, and not in a way Yuuji likes. 

“Wait!” he exclaims, getting distracted and patting at his empty pockets. “Why’d we give them my phone?” Fushiguro laughs, the sour expression falling right off his face like it had never been there at all. It wasn’t often Fushiguro laughed, but when he did the reason was usually pretty good. 

“I wasn’t going to give them my phone, idiot,” he taunts. “It’ll be hours before Inumaki gives you back that phone.” 

“Wh- What!?” Yuuji gasps, his jaw dropping in dismay. Fushiguro laughs again, throwing his head back. Suddenly, Yuuji isn’t so offended anymore. Actually, even though he knows he’s been bested, he’s laughing too. After a moment though, Fushiguro shakes the whole thing off.

“Well. I guess that’s it,” he tells Yuuji, still leaning back against the wall. The hallway is empty and quiet, just the two of them. Yuuji doesn’t want it to be over yet. 

“Are you sure we did enough?” He asks. “I mean- when he hangs up the phone it’ll be just like-”

“We did plenty,” Fushiguro insists, getting annoyed. “They were happy before us and they’ll be happy after us.”

“Yeah, but what if they need us to-”

“Yuuji,”  Fushiguro cuts him off, closing his eyes and throwing his hands up. “What is this really about? You wanted to help them and you did. You wanted my help and I gave it. If you’re done here, I need to get back.” 

Ouch. 

“Oh. Okay,” That’s all Yuuji can manage. He doesn’t like being snapped at in general, but this felt even worse somehow. He fixes his gaze to the ground so the other boy won’t see in his eyes how upset he is- he doesn’t want to burden him with that. He’s not even sure why he feels this way, especially since Fushiguro really hasn’t done anything wrong. To cover his tracks he runs a hand through his hair, hoping it'll excuse his downcast glance.

“Wh… why are you being like that?” Fushiguro’s voice is quiet, earnestly curious. Yuuji can practically hear his eyebrows knitting together. He just shakes his head, hoping his friend will disregard the whole thing and move on. “Seriously. Why are you making that face?” 

“I’m not making a face.” Yuuji lies. 

“And I’m not in the business of kicking puppies, but your face is telling a different story.” He snaps back, not missing a beat. “Spit it out already.” 

“I just- I was having a good time, all right?” Yuuji spills. “But now it’s over and you’re gonna lock yourself in your room to read your book! Which is good! That’s what you’re supposed to do! So don’t worry about it, okay?”

If his goal was to hide how he was really feeling, Yuuji has really messed it up. The two of them stare at each other in stunned silence before Yuuji tries to take off down the hall, deciding it’s best to just walk away from the whole situation. Fushiguro catches his wrist, though- not his uniform, his actual wrist. Skin to skin. Inches from holding hands. Yuuji stops in his tracks, doesn’t even attempt to pull away. 

“Hold it,” he says, examining Yuuji’s face. “What are you trying to say?” 

There’s no avoiding it now, which is cumbersome because Yuuji has been avoiding the topic even in his own head. 

“I… it was really nice. Doing something. You know, together,” Yuuji tells him, eyes flickering back and forth between the ceiling and his shoes. 

“We do things together all the time,” he shoots back seriously. “We literally went on a mission yesterday.”

“Yeah, but we had to do that.” Yuuji reminds him. 

“We ate dinner together tonight. We didn’t have to do that,” Fushiguro argues. The intensity in his face has not wavered for even a second throughout the whole exchange. 

“But you were reading the whole time,” Yuuji says in a small voice, knowing just how whiney he must sound. He immediately wishes he could take it back. He didn’t mean to chide his friend- that had been a completely reasonable thing for him to be doing after all- but he just can’t stop himself. He has enough trouble keeping his mouth shut as it is, never mind keeping his mouth shut when someone is actively asking him to talk.

Fushiguro seems confused by all this, but he doesn’t loosen his grip around Yuuji’s wrist. Not that Yuuji is keeping track of the point of contact or anything. 

“I just like spending time with you. That’s all,” Yuuji says, finally finding his usual, calm and confident tone. He even manages to look up at Fushiguro and smile. Not a full, too-many-teeth smile, but his lips at least perk upward. 

“We could…” Fushiguro starts weakly, but his voice trails off. “We can spend time together whenever you want, idiot.” 

Now it’s Fushiguro’s turn to stare at the floor, his dark hair flopping over any distinguishable part of his face. Yuuji has no idea what he’s thinking, so he’s not at all sure what he’s supposed to say to that. It was entirely possible that he was completely misinterpreting what Fushiguro was saying. Probably he was just trying to be nice, trying to make Yuuji feel better. There was almost no chance he thought ‘spending time together’ meant the same thing that Yuuji wanted it to. 

“Whenever… I want?” Yuuji broaches. He looks down to Fushiguro’s grip. It’s getting tighter by the second. “What about… what about what you want?” 

“I want what you want,” he says, almost too quickly. “Just tell me where to be and I’ll be there.” He manages to lift his chin ever so slightly, not enough to meet Yuuji’s gaze, but enough to expose the bottom half of his face. It’s only when he does that that Yuuji notices his shoulders are clear up to his ears. “If that’s next to you, then… fine! That’s where I’ll be. Okay!?” 

Wait. Really? 

“Even to like, the bathroom or something?” Yuuji blurts, unable to stop himself from making a joke under pressure.

“Idiot,” Fushiguro curses, dropping Yuuji's hand so fast it hurts and turning away. 

“Wait!” Yuuji calls, grabbing an arm to spin Fushiguro back around so they’re facing each other. He places a hand on each of his shoulder and pushes down gently, hoping to relax them both. The move is a little too effective though, and now they’re close- closer than they’ve ever been- and too close for either of them to stare at the ground without knocking foreheads. They were eye-to-eye from now on, and there was no avoiding it. 

“This is stupid,” Fushiguro barks, as if his voice could put distance between them. “I shouldn’t have said anything.” 

“I liked it,” Yuuji says simply. 

They stare at each other for a little while. Fushiguro’s eyebrows cycle through a range of emotions: furrowed, then arched, then raised- like maybe he’s figured it all out- and then back to furrowed. Yuuji watches it all, completely enthralled. 

“You want to be where I am," Yuuji repeats, praying to god that he’s understood Fushiguro’s words correctly. “That’s the best thing anyone has ever said to me. I really can’t think of anything better than-” 

That.

Yuuji doesn’t get to finish the sentence. Fushiguro lips are on his before he can even stop his own from moving, his words dying in both their mouths. As it turns out, they don’t need them anymore. 

The kiss is quick; chaste by anyone else’s standards. There’s a stillness to it, a steadiness that Yuuji can instantly liken to Fushiguro’s entire presence. It makes him want to lean in, so he does- just two sets of lips pressed firmly together, a confirmation from both sides. 

When Fushiguro pulls away, Yuuji isn’t ready. He wants it to go on forever, but when he sees the look on the other boy’s face he realizes why it can’t just yet. Fushiguro looks terrified beyond anything Yuuji has ever seen, his ears turning red and his eyes widening wildly. Yuuji is stunned. This is a boy who has stared down the most gruesome of curses, has faced certain death more times than either of them could count, and yet here he is- afraid of Yuuji. 

“Fushiguro,” he says, hoping to infuse the name with as much feeling as he can- certainly he has some to spare right now. He’s practically on air. “I wanna be where you are, too.” 

The other boy blinks at him. The fear dissolves from his face. Relief floods through both of them. 

“You don’t have to call me that, you know,” he says simply. “You can call me Megumi.” 

“Really?” Yuuji asks, eyes widening in disbelief. Only the second years and Gojo referred to him as that, and Fushiguro didn’t seem particularly fond of any of them doing it, especially since he was so resolved to be formal with all of them. Yuuji thinks back to Inumaki calling Okkotsu by his first name so sweetly, and how weirdly jealous it made him. Just a few minutes ago he didn’t think it was even possible for him to talk to another person with the same kind of familiarity. “Wait- and you’ll call me Yuuji?”

He’s nervous to ask. Fushiguro- Megumi?- was so specific with the way he spoke to people. Could he really make allowances to call Yuuji by his first name when he still referred to Gojo, who he’d known for years, exclusively as sensei? Or his upperclassman as senpai even when they’ve all told him not to a million times? Would the two of them ever really have what Inumaki and Okkatsu had in that regard? 

“You’re joking,” the other boy says, frowning. “I’ve been calling you Yuuji for months.” 

“No you haven’t,” Yuuji argues, thinking back. “You called my Itadori today! In class! I remember!” 

“Kugisaki was there!” He fires back. “I can’t call you by your first name in front of her! Could you imagine what she’d say? Or Gojo-Sensei? They’d tease us for years!” 

“Then I’ll beat them up! I’m tough!” Yuuji counters. “But you have never, not once called me Yuuji! I’d have remembered if you had, okay? So don’t tell me that-”

“Yuuji.”

“What?” He exclaims, annoyed to have been cut off before he realizes. “Oh.”

And they’re kissing again. This time “chaste” is the last word Yuuji would use to describe it. It’s full on, get-our-mouths-as-close-as-we-possibly-can, making the fuck out. Yuuji can’t believe it. He traces Megumi’s lips as if he was saying the other boy’s name over and over again. Megumi. Megumi. Megumi. It tastes so good. 

It goes on too long, he knows it does, but neither of them can stop it. When one leans in, the other one pushes back. It’s a battle of wills, as if they were trying to prove who liked the other more; except that neither of them give up, and where did that put them? Exactly where Yuuji wanted to be. Exactly where he thought they’d never be, even a few minutes ago. 

In the end, neither of them has to step up to end the kiss. Someone nearby coughs and both boys fly back from the other in shock, desperately trying to untangle limbs they hadn’t been aware they’d been wrapped up in and wiping the shared spit off their mouths. It was pointless though. There was no hiding what they’d just been doing.  

Inumaki stands in his doorway, jaw unhinged. The phone screen in his hand is pointed toward them, revealing a smiling Okkotsu.

“Megumi!” he says cheerily. “You never told me you had a boyfriend!” 

Inumaki is speechless. Yuuji knows that isn’t saying much, but still. Also speechless is Megumi, whose face has gone so red that it’s almost past the point of recognition. Yuuji wants to jump in and save him, but as it turns out, he’s speechless too. 

“When I get back we can go on double dates!” Okkotsu adds sunnily, completely unaware of the situation’s tone. 

“Sha-ke,” Inumaki says, his lips curling upward into a mischievous grin. 

“Don’t you dare,” Megumi scolds, but Inumaki has already pulled his own phone from the pocket of his hoodie and has run back into his room. He slams the door before Megumi can reach him, the wood coming within a centimeter of his face. “Well,” He says calmly, “Maki knows now. Probably everyone else.” 

He stares at the door for a long time. Yuuji isn’t sure what to do about it- his heart is still pounding so loudly that he can’t hear himself think- so all he says is: “Sorry.” 

“You know what?” Megumi says, taking a step back and turning to face him. “I’m not.” He drops his hand on the wall next to Yuuji’s head and rests the other on side of his waist, effectively pinning Yuuji to the wall. “Let them fucking talk.” 

Yuuji has never been more attracted to Megumi than he is at this moment, and considering the past few months they’ve had, that is really saying something. 

They kiss again, and this time it isn’t a war. No one tries to prove anything. They already know. 

Just tell me where to be and I’ll be there, Megumi had said. Yuuji couldn’t have put it better if he tried- it was exactly how he felt as well. If Megumi wanted him at his side in a fight, then he’d be there. If he wanted him in the dead of night, he’d be there. If he wanted him in a quiet moment of boredom, he’d be there. There wasn’t a single situation he could imagine that wouldn’t be made better by Megumi being there with him. 

“You taste like mangoes,” Megumi says, pulling away slightly without warning. Their lips are practically still touching, their foreheads pressed together. Yuuji laughs.

“Oops,” he replies. “Sorry about that.” 

Fushiguro just shakes his head. 

“I like mangoes,” he murmurs. “Idiot.” Yuuji laughs, leaning back in for the kiss as Megumi’s dark eyes dance. 

And I like you, he thinks. I like you so much.