Archive of Our Own ^beta

When Yuuji looks back at his childhood, it’s the mornings he remembers most.

His days always started at the crack of dawn as a young boy. Although he really thinks it wasn’t due to an overwhelming sense of responsibility on his part, but more on the fact that his grandfather would open his room with a bang at six o’clock on the dot. He would go about opening the blinds and windows, the sudden change momentarily blinding Yuuji. Blinking heavily, his eyes would slowly adjust to the rays of sunlight turning everything in his room golden. 

Mornings were filled with the chirping of birds outside their windows, the occasional ringing of his grandfather’s voice echoing throughout the house as he urged him to move faster; moments before they would both start on the trail of their daily walks. A hobby done daily by his grandfather as soon as he retired with a small Yuuji and his wide-eyed gaze in tow, tracing their way from the front steps of what was then their big house from his young perspective to the even bigger and grander maze of the streets of Sendai. A trip where every street and corner was met with his dashing steps and curious eyes. 

Whenever they’d pass by neighbors who’d greet them on the street, it would be Yuuji’s bright voice echoing, “Good morning, Kayo-san!”. The kind lady who always brought them steaming soba whenever she cooked more than their family could finish in one meal smiling and waving back at his enthusiasm. His grandpa, always the lonesome one, would just grunt at their direction and walk on with his hands behind his back.

But like their neighbors, ever since Yuuji has been conscious of the world, he has always known that his grandpa wasn’t an unkind man despite his reserved nature towards others. Sure, his patience was usually set on a short fuse which led to him yelling and reprimanding Yuuji sometimes. But despite being more stubborn than his grandson most of the time, he was the one who prepared him warm miso and shiozake after they came back from their walks, the aroma of rice and warm omelets filling the hallways of their house.

It was his grandfather who built up his habit: wake up early, walk around the neighborhood, come home and happily eat the food he has prepared. It was his grandfather who, in years after that, would always accompany him to and from the school gates when he was still too young to go on his own. When his grandfather wasn’t too old yet to walk his route every morning until his third grade. 

He doesn’t even know why it’s the days of his youth that he’s thinking of as he stares at a familiar, yet strange ceiling. Familiar because this is Nobara’s living room he’s staying at, sleeping bed beneath his back and two pillows to accompany him. The table he has always sat on eating watermelons and ice pops from whenever he was waiting for her, behind him. The television he made his friends watch reruns of Shaolin Soccer hanging on the wall to his left. 

And yet everything feels strange because this is Nobara’s apartment after all. Not his. Not theirs.  

He tightens the blanket around his shoulders and turns to look at the window instead. The carefree wind of his childhood swaying the light snow falling outside. Falling to the murky ground together with what’s left of everything pure and worth losing sleep over. 

Nobara told him to sleep on the couch earlier, but Yuuji can’t even bring himself to do it. Somehow, he needs to feel the solid ground beneath him. The firm and hard ground befitting to both stabilize his weakened knees and punish himself even in sleep.

Perhaps this is just the way of the world—if you fuck up your life enough beyond fixing, all you could ever have at present is the past. To reminisce about the days when everything didn’t seem to hurt. To go back to the times when you can still be as light as your six-year-old self, smiling on the face of your grandfather’s grumpiness because at the end of the day, everything will be okay.

Because on his third night of crashing at Nobara’s place, Itadori Yuuji receives a message from his ex and knows nothing will ever be right for him again. An innocent notification that lights his phone up in mock accusation that everything is wrong and he has no one to blame but himself. 

If he was thirteen still and not twenty-two years old a month away from graduating, he wouldn’t even be awake in the dead of night to see it in the first place. His grandfather always used to chide him for sleeping on buses, club rooms, and one time after track and field club in middle school, in the center of their living room. The noise of his bustling childhood momentarily forgotten in favor of weightlessness. Sleep is his childhood friend, it has always welcomed him with open arms. And it didn’t stop being one when he entered university— Itadori Yuuji, the life of the party! But Itadori Yuuji, the boy who can sleep through a raging one if his body so wishes.

It was fun while it lasted.

He hesitates for a few seconds before caving in.

1:39 a.m.

Can we talk?

The message that greets him makes a lump form in his throat. He doesn’t trust himself enough to cry in Nobara’s living room. He hasn’t even cried yet ever since everything went down the drain. He fears he might start and just never stop.

His phone lights up again.

1:40 a.m.

Please.

He bites his bottom lip hard, asking every deity he could name why it has to be him. Stop being so fucking respectful, Megumi is what his fingers itch to type. I love you so much, please, let’s fix everything and anything and just be together, okay? is what his heart screams at him to reply instead. Why does he have to be in love with a man like Fushiguro Megumi?

Megumi, always thoughtful, always remembering. Megumi, who, despite the cold indifference he wears like a favorite sweater, never forgets to be respectful. The kind of boy who beats up delinquents because they’re rude and think the world of themselves. 

Megumi, who deserves a reply and an apology and Yuuji’s heart on a platter.

Yuuji gives him neither of those things, though. He doesn’t even reply. Yuuji just stares and stares at the last two messages Megumi has sent him. At all the past messages he left on read and unresponded staring back at him. He still hasn’t deleted all of their conversations on his phone because Yuuji is selfish like that. He will continuously break the heart of the boy he loves until the words left unspoken between them fester and lead them to ruins, but he still wouldn’t delete everything that came before. He couldn’t.

Instead, Yuuji imagines the rasp of his voice as if he were right beside him, cradling him in his body heat to whisper in his ear. Yuuji feels the hair on his back tingle slightly. Turns the image of Megumi slowly leaning towards him and tangling their limbs together over his head for a while, dissecting how a boy so frank and staunch in his convictions can also have the softest lilt in the world.

Fushiguro Megumi, kind, even in his pathetic dreams.

Yuuji deletes the last two messages Megumi has sent. Deletes everything of what came after, the questions, the are you sures? the pleading, god the pleading, but never the messages before. Maybe Yuuji can let himself have that—a morsel of the good times. 

He can make it through this, he tells himself. Break-ups are normal and world-shattering and can leave you broken beyond recognition, but hey! At least it isn’t the end of the world, right? He lets out a hollow laugh that echoes in his bones and in the silent blue night of Nobara's living room.

He hasn’t cried a single tear just yet but maybe he has gone insane anyways.

He tosses his phone face down somewhere far away where he couldn’t reach it. He turns over, the blanket he wishes would smother him whole pulled more tightly around his shoulders. 

On his third night crashing at Nobara’s small living room, Yuuji is nineteen days away out of the twenty-one a lifestyle YouTuber he follows has said is all it takes to form a new habit; years away from the boy he once was: carefree, light, with no trepidation of what’s yet to come.

On his third day without Megumi, Yuuji starts forming a new hobby. 

Yuuji pretends. 

—

Nobara, in that chiding way of hers that is only possible because it encapsulates her definition of caring, once told Yuuji that he is the stupidest pink-dyed hair boy on campus.

“I heard you applied as Geto-sensei’s student assistant,” Nobara says, picking her third dried umeboshi.

It was at the start of December when university life was more of learning the intricacies of an existential crisis than whatever it is they talk about in their classes. They were sitting on one of the benches between the arts and sciences department. A halfway meet point for Nobara, aspiring fashion designer, and Yuuji, who still asks himself now and then if he should’ve been a sports science major in the first place.

He hums, chewing and beaming at the same time. Nobara only glares at him. 

“Well, aren’t you proud of me for taking on responsibilities?”

“I would’ve been if you didn’t apply in the middle of our last semester,” she says, stopping mid-chew. “Are you out of your mind?”

He can’t blame her if he was being honest. First, it’s December and it should’ve been a no-brainer for graduating students like him dragging their feet through weekly breakdowns just to finish the semester that he should be concentrating on not failing any of his classes instead of doing extracurricular work he absolutely does not need whatsoever. Second, he does have football matches to prepare for, and over-enthusiastic as Todo is who refuses to miss any of his games, everyone else from the team wouldn’t be expecting any less from his performance even now that he’s months away from graduating. 

And third, well, maybe he is actually pretty busy.

So yeah, as Nobara declares with concerning frequency whenever he’s alone with Yuuji: There could only be one dumb person in this room, Yuuji.

And it wouldn’t be me!

“But Nobara, don’t you want to know more about what’s the deal between Gojo-sensei and Geto-sensei?” 

She stops chewing, a frustrated glint taking over her eyes. “Of course I do! Maki and I sometimes make up crazy theories about what the hell happened with those two. Who knows? Maybe in another life they were best friends who life fucked up, had a dramatic break-up, and decided to terrorize college students like us in their next life because if they can’t be happy, nobody’s allowed to,” she sighs, chin resting on her hand. “But if you think you’re slick for changing the subject, you’re dumber than I thought. Have you forgotten who you’re talking to, ha?” she asks, incredulous, voice rising higher.

Yuuji chuckles and holds back his tongue, knowing full well Nobara is just warming up to her tirade.

“I don’t even know how you were allowed to even apply as one,” she continues, true to his prediction. “First, you’re a student-athlete who’s in your last semester for god’s sake. Second, don’t you have upcoming matches to condition your mind, body, and soul for, or whatever it is you do to prepare with your team?” Nobara brings a finger to his lips before Yuuji can open his mouth to argue. “Which brings me to my third point—you don’t actually have the time for it. Megumi told me as much.”

Yuuji grins. For all that Nobara never fails to convey her disappointment in his life decisions, most often than not, she comes off like a nagging sister. “Okay so first, I’ve got cards up my sleeve. Second, training gets crazy but it’s not a problem!” For some reason, it really isn’t much of an issue at all. Football, and whatever sports really, has come as natural as breathing to him ever since he was young. “And your third point? Well, you might actually be on to something, but hey, I’ve spent my time on more unproductive things in the past, at least there’s allowance in being a student assistant,” he shrugs.

“As if you’re spending that extra money on anything other than games,” Nobara rolls her eyes at him. “And don’t even start! I know you and your spending habits for your video games like I do recycled fashion trends every ten years, unfortunately.”

“But Nobara,” he whines, “You don’t understand. This is a newer update to the Harvest Moon we’re talking about! That game changed the trajectory of my life.” This was true on all accounts. Yuuji has always come off as someone who solely enjoys playing characters who punch and kick each other in the gut, but the simple life of tending to his 2D farm gives him an insurmountable amount of peace and joy. Not to mention, the nostalgia attached to it.

“I think god himself is witness enough to how much I try to understand you, dumbass,” she glares at him, reaching out for his newly opened okaki. “You know, all I’m saying is you better not fail your classes and get sick from trying to juggle all of these things at once or Megumi and I will kick your ass.”

“Don’t worry! Not gonna happen.”

“And what’s that about having cards up your sleeves? Did you offer help on assisting training camps with your coach or something?”

“Nah.”

“Offered to help put a stop to Gojo-sensei’s longing looks?”

He laughs at the suggestion. “You know I would do that with no favors just to cut him some slack, but nope,” Yuuji says, popping out the p loudly. He respects the physics professor a lot even though his class incentives when he was a freshman consisted of anything but physics. (Why the hell was Yuuji watching avant-garde films for extra credit for a physics class?) Yuuji would much rather willingly help with his love life if he ever asks for some support, but he doesn’t think helping Geto-sensei sort out sheets of students’ grades will help Gojo substantially.

“Oh my god.” Nobara suddenly gasps, eyes widening. “Don’t tell me you threatened your poor coach with a resignation from your team?”

Yuuji looks sideways. “Well, not exactly. But I may or may not have reminded him that he’s the one who decided to put my name on the team’s roster back in first year,” he says, words fast, hand scratching behind his head.

“Wow….” Nobara stares at him, partly in shock but mostly with a glint of pride like Yuuji’s a protege she personally raised herself. “Look at you bargaining and shit…”

“Hey! Need I remind you I was the one coerced into joining in the first place? Besides, Coach Sato knows I don’t need all the extra practice anyway.”

“Better tell that to convince your boyfriend not to worry about your dumb ass then,” Nobara replies, dusting off her skirt as she stands up. 

Their next classes both start in less than fifteen minutes and as seniors, they walk as slowly as they can. Feeling the wind in their hair as they make the most of the ten-minute grace period. Yuuji likes to think their years in university have taught them that there’s no need to rush to get to your next class. To take it easy and slow because everything else wouldn’t be as forgiving. 

Megumi tells him it’s just him trying to excuse his lateness for most of his classes. But he has always matched Yuuji’s pace step by step whenever they spent their breaks together. As slow as the fingers always reaching out for his hand, their palms brushing against each other as they walk side by side.

Yuuji can’t help but softly smile at the thought. “Don’t worry, Megumi loves me too much to stop me from fulfilling one of Maslow’s hierarchy of needs,” he says, slinging his bag on his shoulder. “AKA 2D simulated farming games,” he finishes, smile morphing into a full-blown grin. 

At this point, it’s just second nature for him to smile stupidly whenever he’s talking about Megumi to others. A thing Nobara never fails to notice if the knowing look in her eyes is enough to go by. She rolls her eyes at him like she’s had the annoyance of being the one to witness Yuuji’s inevitable goofy smiles for far too long. There’s a hint of affection underlying it, though. 

“You know, when you and Megumi first started dating, I thought some of his rationality would rub off on you somehow,” she stops, swinging around to face him. She places her hands on his shoulders, looking him straight in the eye. “But you’re still the stupidest pink-dyed hair boy on this campus and unfortunately, it’s endearing, and we love you for it,” she says in the most serious tone. “Never change, Itadori, never change,” she pats him one last time before running across the street. Yuuji doesn’t miss the grin on her mouth as she raises her hand in goodbye.

But as he went home that afternoon and got greeted with a peck on the lips by Megumi, he couldn't help but remember his conversation with Nobara for the rest of the day.

“What are you thinking so hard about?” Megumi asks, looking at him from across his desk, hand perched on his jaw. The sky is already darkening outside their apartment and it makes everything seem quiet. A whole afternoon of trying to finish papers and studying for exams always going faster than he could even notice.

Like clockwork, they do either of these things before they go to bed: go over their own assignments quietly, do anything besides their impending deadlines as a coping mechanism, or sink their faces in the fur of Megumi’s dogs who are all too happy for the attention as a distraction from what feels like the world burning around them.

Megumi, as he often is, is in the first one while Yuuji, well, he can only blink at him a few times before finding the words to speak.

“I know I’m supposed to be studying right now but I just finished one of the best fucking films ever and holy shit I want to kiss you so bad,” he says, almost breathless.

Megumi raises his brow. “I don’t know how one thing led to the other with what you said but why are you still staring?” 

“Why am I still staring…what?” Yuuji asks in turn, voice airy. Nothing like a good film to make the first few seconds after the credits start rolling seem like a fever dream.

“Why are you still staring when you could be kissing me like the good boyfriend you are,” Megumi simply replies, voice low. His eyes on him. Real. Tangible. Just steps away from his desk, waiting.

Yuuji suddenly stands up from his chair, Megumi’s words snapping him back to reality. He closes the distance in sure strides. His hands grab Megumi's sweater, a bit hurried, pulling him towards him. He looks at him almost in a daze as his eyes travel to his lips before he closes the measly distance between them, their lips finally touching.

They kiss almost lazily as they make their way towards their bed, the bed slightly squeaking with their added weight as Yuuji immediately perches on his lap. Their kisses remain gentle, though. A direct contrast to how hard his hands are fisted on Megumi’s clothes. 

Megumi sighs into his mouth, grateful but always wanting more. Yuuji’s arms encircle his shoulders, the need to be closer overriding everything else. He tilts his head just so and kisses him like he wants to sink in the feeling of Megumi’s tongue on his forever. 

Because he wants to. Could even die in his lap like this and see it as a life well lived. Sayonara to everybody else, but Itadori Yuuji has had a good run if he says so himself. 

Megumi moans and cards his hands through Yuuji’s hair. He rolls them over so he’s on top of him, diving straight for his mouth again, biting Yuuji’s lower lip and making him feel like he’s the most grounded he ever felt while floating on the ether.

Megumi’s hand travels to caress his side, partially lifting his shirt and exposing his skin in the process. Yuuji shivers.

“I like that film you watched,” he murmurs, chest slightly heaving as he stares down at Yuuji like he’s seeing him for the first time.

“Yeah?” Yuuji replies, just as breathless. His fingers slowly trail the back of Megumi’s neck and make their home in his soft, dark hair. “Watch it with me sometime?”

Megumi hums, giving him a slight nod.

Yuuji smiles almost shyly at him. 

As he looks back at Megumi’s eyes taking him in, he can’t help but wonder if he knows just how much he feels just being there with him. 

But he doesn’t ask him that. Megumi should know by now with how Yuuji reacts to his touches like the mere shadow his body casts on him holds the beginning to all the lightness the world could still offer. Instead, he throws his earlier question back at him: “Megumi, why are you still staring?” 

Megumi’s brows quirk at the undeniable complaint in his voice. “And they say I’m the demanding one.”

Yuuji’s laughter is short-lived before Megumi bites the sensitive area on his neck. He kisses his jaw slowly like he’s not driving Yuuji crazy enough as it is and Yuuji lets Megumi claim his skin and his mouth and his reaction to every single touch.

Before they go to bed, Megumi and Yuuji do either of these things: work on their own assignments quietly, do anything besides their impending deadlines as a coping mechanism, bother their pets.

And also: kiss each other senseless like they have all and none of the time left in the world.

A personal favorite, actually.

How can it still feel like a new revelation every time he’s with Megumi even if he intimately knows the minute changes of his expression like it’s his own he’s seeing? When they’ve been together for a long enough time now that an invitation to a night out to either of them is already understood as an invitation to the other? When his family feels just as much as his no matter how unconventional; with a sister who never fails to ask Yuuji what delicacy he’d like for when she comes home from work trips and a physics professor who nags at him within and outside the campus? When Yuuji no longer wants to know how his life would look like removed from anything that constitutes Fushiguro Megumi’s existence?

That night, they slowly dissolve and tangle in each other’s limbs. Just unceasing waves curling in and on themselves, making a home out of the shore of their bodies. Before sleep finally claims him, Megumi reaches out to Yuuji once more.

For a while, Yuuji just lets himself bask in their warmth and lies there awake, mesmerized at Megumi’s long lashes in his sleep. He reaches out to give a gentle kiss to his lids before slowly untangling his limbs from his hold, letting Megumi sleep as he blindly went to get his laptop. He comes back to the warmth of their bed, silently typing on his keypad as much as he can. The night still and quiet around them. 

Yuuji would like nothing but to continue sinking in Megumi’s warmth forever. But his mind refuses to fully settle down ever since he finished the film earlier. 

Staring at the white screen of his laptop, Yuuji remembers how his love for movies has exponentially grown since his high school days. Back then, he’d enjoy going to the cinemas alone or with his friends, discussing the films they watched over dinner afterwards, even getting in too deep with making sense of themes and metaphors. Occasionally, Yuuji will even come across a movie that will have him searching for theories and commentaries online. Raptly listening and nodding along to Youtube video essays that more often than not made it look like he’s listening to an online lecture for an upcoming test. But despite all that, he never once considered putting his thoughts down to writing, much less posting it on the internet for every fellow film bro and dude to see. 

He never really considered it until he met Megumi. Who, on the second time they ran to each other on campus casually said in response to Yuuji wanting to know more about whether he had the same hobbies as him, “Films? Well, films are fine but I probably read nonfiction more.”

Yuuji felt his face fall a little bit before he could school his expression to his usual smile. Hopelessly regretting every decision of picking up comics and watching films over reading a damn book in his life. Because maybe if he did pick a nonfiction book or even a novel every once in a while, he could’ve impressed the green-eyed boy in front of him with his extensive list of recommendations. 

His face must’ve shown how crestfallen he was feeling inside because just one glance at him and Megumi was suddenly adding, in that low voice of his, “But if you have ever written film reviews, I’d check them out.”

And Yuuji, already hopelessly enamored by the reserved boy, went back to his dorm that day and with all intent in his bones and body, started organizing movies he’s watched and writing out his insights for eight films on his letterboxd account that he started and already abandoned halfway through a few months ago. If he sent the link to his reviews as his excuse to start his message history with the other boy, it has served more than its first purpose.

The habit of writing film reviews will never leave him since then. That night, he writes his thoughts on a film about train rides, romance, and what the world could look like a thousand miles away. 

He pauses, writes, and thinks, stopping every once in a while to look at the boy sleeping beside him. Megumi and the way his hair looks under the moonlight filtering through their windows, how his hand stretches to Yuuji’s side of the bed as if reaching for him even in his dreams. Hands hovering on his keypad, Yuuji thinks: One day he might just start writing poems for him too.

Closing his laptop and carefully making his way to sink into the warmth of Megumi once more, Yuuji remembers the conversation he had with Nobara. He should’ve ran after her that morning, should’ve put his hands on her shoulder and confessed to her earnestly: this is how he affects me, Nobara. 

How could Megumi’s rationality ever rub off on Yuuji when being with him has turned him into someone who writes a film review at two in the morning during a school night? When, ever since he met him, everything just fell into place? Like suddenly remembering on a random morning the lyrics to a song you’ve loved since you were young but have hopelessly forgotten. The sense of every good memory rushing back in the form of a breathing, living person.

In between Itadori Yuuji who ran twenty kilometers a half an hour in middle school and Itadori Yuuji who’s hailed as the best player in every football match, he thinks he would much rather sit in the silence of their apartment to write a film review, knowing his words will always reach the boy sleeping beside him.

—

There is a specific air that comes from navigating public transportation alone. 

Removed and included from the speed of everything and everybody else around you. A suspended bubble that follows as you lift your foot one step at a time. One foot in front of the other, and the next, and the next. The walk from your house to the bus stop. The mid-noon sun reflecting the cars passing by. The air of solitude, the world around you. Until finally, you brush past somebody who’s on their way to a business meeting, the edge of their blazer skimming past the back of your knuckles. Them, arriving at the place you’re leaving from; you, waiting for the shinkansen that will take you someplace else. In those moments, the air suddenly becomes malleable, allowing the mundanity of life to touch you for a few seconds. 

But always, somehow, it feels as if it never really leaves you alone. This air that makes you see the world like an outsider from your own body. No matter how many blazers, and shoulders, and even eyes you accidentally meet and glace away from—the air shifts, accommodating these small instances of reprieve. But it never leaves. 

Staring out of the blurring buildings from the shinkansen’s window, Yuuji feels submerged in this air of detachment. 

The train isn’t as crowded as it usually becomes in the late afternoon. And somehow, it’s quite regretful. Maybe Yuuji wouldn’t feel too much of a person sitting motionless underwater as life passes him by if it is more crowded. The momentary shouting of a kid a few seats ahead of him both loud and muted at the same time. The sharp corners of buildings and the soft swaying of trees all merge into one: a culmination of greens and grays in the hollow pit of Yuuji’s stomach.

If Megumi was with him, their knees would be brushing against each other right now. Then maybe, train rides wouldn’t feel as melancholic but sacred in their mundanity.

Yuuji’s brows furrow. 

No, he tells himself, his hold on the flowers lying on his lap tightening. There are some things you just have to do alone.

Things like how he isn’t really one to think too deeply about the meaning behind his actions, not one prone to philosophizing what did and didn’t happen. Life handed him a series of events and a map to the city of his boyhood—here and here is where you go and who you meet and who you love—and Yuuji followed the path laid out before him. Imagined a miniature version of himself walking across town to the tune of his favorite video game playing as background music in his mind. 

I finished Football practice at six in the evening —a ding of approval resounds from the heavens.

I ran across the campus fields with Megumi’s dogs —another ding of approval with ten added points. The imaginary life meter of his video game life lengthens. (Seeing his boyfriend’s dogs happily chasing after him in the wide expanse of grass always gives him more health points.) 

I did laundry even when it was Megumi’s turn last week —the following ding of approval almost overwhelms video-game Yuuji. He imagines a heart popping out as he kisses video-game Megumi (who’s more spikey hair than he would admit).

But the lightheartedness just as easily crumbles when he remembers where he is headed. As the train slows down and arrives at his destination, the dopamine-inducing sound of approval doesn’t ring out in his head. 

Instead, it stays quiet and the map to the heart of Tokyo falls apart, replaced by images from the streets of his childhood. 

The air of Sendai greets him, prickling his skin with goosebumps through layers of cloth. Yuuji makes an easy way through the thin crowd, arriving at his destination a bus ride later. The back of his throat tasting of almost bitter remembrance.

He exhales. 

The path in front of him is lined with bare Sakura trees, trickles of snow falling on his nose and the ground leading to the cemetery up ahead. Yuuji makes his trek up the sloping hill to where his grandfather was buried. 

He doesn’t see anyone else but him and an old lady sitting on a bench at this time of day. After all, it isn’t anywhere close to Obon. People are either at their work or classes, not in cemeteries walking on an almost deserted winter afternoon.

Yuuji comes to a halt. In front of him, white puffs of air come and go with every breath. In front of him, his grandfather’s tombstone greets him. 

The birds sing from the branches overhead as Yuuji fetches a pail of water and goes through the solitary motion of cleaning silently. He places yellow daffodils he's cradled all the way here on the vases, their leaves tickling his skin. The smoke of the incense he lights up wafts into the air and his nostrils. With the soft fragrance of flowers and smoke, he closes his eyes and murmurs a silent prayer. 

Yuuji does everything in a daze of precision. He wipes the marble surface in sure motions and offers a quick greeting to his grandfather in silent prayer. But when he opens his eyes again, Yuuji continues to stare at the Itadori name etched in front of him. The Kanji characters he has written all his life on assignments, forms, and leases, staring silently back at him. 

The wind picks up and Yuuji huddles closer to his jacket. Gaze downwards and hands in his pocket, he settles on the little bit of space not touching the cold ground.

When he speaks, nobody but him hears. “I know you’re shouting at me from wherever you are, Gramps,” he starts.

“What? Can’t a grandson visit his grandpa?” he adds to the air as if knowing his grandfather was talking shit about his life decisions even in the afterlife. “Anyways, whatever. I’m here now. There’s a lot going on at university, and I haven’t been all bad you know? I never left the football club and I have to say, I’ve been getting decent grades.”

Yuuji takes out chips and two cans of ginger ale. He places one on top of his grandfather’s tomb, a favorite of his. 

“Megumi even told me to take things slowly. He also reminds me not to overthink a lot,” he smiles. “Which I’m not even aware I do? But apparently, I’m a master at it and well, I try not to anymore, not just for my sake but his.”

The wind howls and Yuuji shivers.

“Anyways! I know you’re still sulking wherever you are but as I told you last time, I’ve been having a busy but great time. Nobara’s acing her internship and remaining course work. And she does it all while still partying now and then. She’s amazing,” he chuckles. “And you know Maki-senpai, right? She told me last week when we hung out that there were a lot more job opportunities for sports science majors like us than we initially thought. She works as an athletic trainer now and Nobara sends us all the links to the games of those she handles even though Maki-senpai only gets like a nanosecond of TV exposure.” Yuuji takes a handful of chips and chews thoughtfully. “Maybe I did a good job choosing my major at the end huh.”

He dusts off his fingers and keeps his trash in his bag to dispose of later. “And you know, Gramps, I don’t know what the hell I did to even be this lucky, but do you know Megumi’s on the running as valedictorian of their department? Not only is my boyfriend pretty but he’s also smart. He’s the kind who whips out random facts even outside his major like,” Yuuji gestures with his hands in the cold air, “like he’s not already perfect enough. One time he was even the one who reviewed me for my physics midterms. He’s crazy smart,” Yuuji chuckles, which quietly dissolves into a soft sigh. He hugs his knees.

“We’ve only got a semester left, Gramps. And we’re off to the real world or something like that.” He says, eyes trained on the cold ground. “I just wish you were here to see it, is all. You would have nagged at me every single day but I would have always been the one to call you first.” 

If he closes his eyes, he could almost pretend the rustling of the branches above him carry the gruff of his grandfather’s voice. The one he would always hear on the dining table back when he was still there to indulge his childish curiosities with incredulousness yet with solid answers nonetheless. “I’m still holding on to what you said, Gramps,” Yuuji says quietly. 

I’m trying to be there for people just like you told me. Yuuji hopes he’s doing an even better job. Being surrounded by people, not in the hopes they’d be there for him when he’s already dead but even while he’s still alive. “These people…you would have loved them. I’m sure of it.”

He stays for a little while longer. By the time he has to leave, he says his last wishes to what has remained a one-way conversation, leaving as quietly as he had come.

Itadori Yuuji, aside from his predisposition, has never been one to submerge himself in the implications of his actions. Because when he thinks of why, in the middle of a busy semester, he’s on the way home from a visit to his grandfather’s grave, he is met with a sinking realization:

Itadori Yuuji has walked these steps numerous times in the past few years of his life. Has walked this ground when it wasn’t freezing as it is in winter, has traveled here frequently in the past few months alone.

His hands feel lighter as he walks now, absent of the weight of flowers he was carrying earlier. But his palms and the tips of his fingers still rest uneasy, unable to shake the oppressive weight of grief no matter how many times he visits the place of his childhood.

Yuuji boards the shinkansen that will take him back to the heart of Tokyo. He sits and thinks that it’s kind of unfair for the world to have drilled into him at the young age of twenty-one, the habit of leaving flowers at a graveyard that carries the name of the person he wants to see most.

He closes his eyes and tries to sleep.

—

That morning, Yuuji comes home from his only class of the day to Megumi dumping notebooks, pens, highlighters, and pages upon pages of class readings from his bag to their bed.

“What are you doing?” he asks, neatly placing his shoes beside Megumi’s by the door. The sight of Megumi turning his bag inside out so recklessly only to methodically rearrange them on his desk would have made him chuckle on a good day. But Megumi’s brows are set on a serious furrow; a man on a mission.

Yuuji cares for his life so he bites back the laugh.

Megumi grunts as he moves towards their fridge, taking out sweets and snacks. He doesn’t even acknowledge Yuuji’s peck on his cheeks as he passes him by to haul his own backpack onto their couch. 

“Packing my bag.”

“I can see that,” Yuuji says, eyes still trained on the other boy, crossing his legs beneath him and settling on the couch. “But packing for where exactly? Will you share food with your classmates?” Yuuji glances at his watch. “You have your writing workshop next period, right?”

Megumi finally looks up from his busy rummaging to blink his stupidly long lashes at Yuuji. 

It’s distracting sometimes, how pretty he is. Yuuji actively tries not to lose focus. 

“I’m not attending.”

“Oh…” That’s a first, Yuuji muses. 

Megumi has been telling him about his creative writing classes throughout the semester. He knows how he likes their writing workshops despite how nerve-wracking it was for him; usually describing it as ‘a big support group for writers, really' but also 'the bane of my fucking existence' in the same breath. If the prior nerves Megumi tells him about between the crook of his shoulder before going to these workshops and the succeeding relief evident in his face whenever he comes home after a session were not proof enough. And as much as his family once thought he’d pursue veterinary school, Yuuji will never forget how Megumi told him once during a break from their midnight cramming, how he surprised everyone including himself when he came home one day and showed them his accepted application to the department of humanities as a writing major.

“Do you think your grandpa would love daffodils?” Megumi’s voice shakes him from his thoughts.

“What?”

“I’ve always brought him chrysanthemums before,” Megumi pauses, looking contemplatively at their bed. “Just wondering if he had other flowers he liked while he was still alive.”

Yuuji feels water blur at the edges of his vision, but he shakes them off. He makes his way towards Megumi instead, taking his hands on his.

“Yes, Grandpa would love daffodils….or chrysanthemums, or peonies. Now that I think about it, he’d love everything coming from you. I think he already likes you more than me if I’m being honest…” Megumi rolls his eyes at that which makes Yuuji giggle. “Thank you for planning to go with me,” he kisses his knuckles gently. “But you don’t have to miss class for this, I promise.” 

Megumi looks him in the eyes, as if also trying to wriggle the contents of his heart out to the bed for him to pick and analyze. 

“Seriously, you don’t have to. I don’t expect you to change your plans just because I suddenly wanted to visit my grandfather.”

Megumi sighs and loops his arms around Yuuji’s shoulders, caging him in. His green eyes rest on him, traveling from his eyes to his lips to his cheeks, settling on his eyes again. “But—”

“I’ll be fine on my own, baby,” Yuuji cuts him off. “I don’t like it when my pretty boyfriend misses class because of me,” he smiles. If he lets Megumi always get his way, he doesn’t think it’s too much of a far-fetched thought that the other boy might just never let him go anywhere without him.

Megumi blushes but instantly morphs his face into one of fake disgust. “You keep calling me pretty just because you know it makes me shy. Fuck you.”

Yuuji laughs and pecks him on the lips. “I tell you you’re pretty because you are. You blushing is just a bonus.”

Megumi glares which make him even cuter, but he kisses him back, raking his hands through Yuuji’s hair, deepening the kiss. He pulls back after a while, simply resting his forehead on his. The two of them just standing in the middle of their apartment, tangled in each other’s arms, breathing.

It’s Megumi who breaks the silence. “I better not receive a message later telling me you missed your stop and ended up at Morioka station again.”

“Baby, that was one time,” Yuuji pouts.

“Still happened.”

“In sophomore year! And we’re only months away from graduating, which…” he looks at him meaningfully, “...means you shouldn’t start getting late to your classes now. Right, Mr. Straight-As Fushiguro?”

The corners of Megumi’s lips quirk into a small smile, his hand coming up to give him a light flick on the forehead. He mutters a weak, “Whatever, idiot,” under his breath as he untangles himself from Yuuji’s embrace.

Yuuji can’t help but laugh. 

How does Megumi do it? Be smart, cool, be someone who furiously blushes when he gets shy. Be so fucking cute and hot at the same time he has half a mind to embrace him tightly and never let go until they topple over to the ground most days. He doesn’t know how he does it, but Yuuji’s just thankful he even gets to be in his life to witness it in the first place.

And because it is Megumi, Yuuji indulges. He always does when it comes to him. 

After putting his things back in his bag, Megumi pauses with his hand on the door, still looking at Yuuji like it pains him to leave him alone. Yuuji reaches for him and gives him one last peck on the lips, watching as color fills his cheeks.

He grins boyishly as he waves his hand in goodbye; the thumping of the dogs’ wagging tails as they look on beside his foot echoing as the door clicks shut.

—

yuuji

hey…

maki-san best girl

What’s up

Aren’t you in the middle of practice

yuuji

I am but…just really wanted to ask if Megumi ate breakfast

maki-san best girl

…..

You remembered you told me to block your number if you still asked about him, right?

yuuji

I know… 

But is he though? Eating?

maki-san best girl

Yes, he is. I’ve been checking up on him and even staying over at his place for a while now.

yuuji

Okay, okay. Cool. 

Also Nobara, you know he sometimes skips dinner, right? Please always remind him to eat. If he still won’t leave his requirements, just tell him you’d be getting Shogayaki downtown. He’d budge, then.

maki-san best girl

You still love him huh

And you know I’m not judging you for any of that, right?

yuuji

I know

maki-san best girl

What I'm trying to say is, Yuuji, you were the one who broke up with him 2 months ago

You also told me more than ten times now that this would be the last time you ask about him

And I wasn’t even telling you to stop

You said it yourself tho

yuuji

I know. I suck

maki-san best girl

No, you don't

Don't beat yourself up for missing your ex. Frankly, I still don’t understand why you broke up in the first place but at the end of the day, I'm in no position to meddle

But I hope you also don't punish yourself by trying to pretend, dumbass

Pretending you’re fine that is

yuuji

Thank you, Nobara. For everything. Can’t thank u enough, really

maki-san best girl

Thank me by trying not to backtrack tomorrow morning by begging me to finally block ur number

yuuji

I’ll try my best

maki-san best girl

Just so you know, he is as well

Trying his best

—

Like most things in Yuuji’s life, the pain starts even before he’s aware he’s hurting. His break-up with Fushiguro Megumi will not start with tears and shouting. Instead, it will be a delicate accumulation of all things said and unsaid, of everything beautiful in between. 

Because the most cruel thing about being Yuuji is that this, much like everything else that managed to truly hurt him, is wedged in between moments he would never trade for anything else. 

It starts when Nobara, a day before their winter break begins, sighs and dramatically bumps her shoulders against Maki-senpai.  

“I’m gonna miss you a lot, Maki-san. Your horrible family don’t deserve to see you for the whole winter break while I rot all alone in the countryside” 

“There’s no way in hell I’m gonna subject myself to being within a thirty-mile radius of Naoya, Kugisaki. Don’t worry,” Maki says, looking at her. “Besides, I don’t even have a winter break like you guys anymore. I have work now if you’re forgetting.”

Nobara grunts, as if mourning the fact that Maki indeed graduated a year before her.

The air is cold as they walk towards the cafe they agreed to stay at to catch up with Maki. Megumi’s hand loosely intertwines with Yuuji’s as they wade through the crowd of students getting a quick lunch break like them.

“But you could still take a day or two off, right?” Megumi asks, voice a little bit louder than usual just so he could be heard in the bustling street.

“Yeah, sure. Why? Do you guys wanna hang out before Christmas?”

“Oh my god, yes! A road trip would be great,” Nobara exclaims, now openly clutching onto her arm.

“Everywhere would be great for you as long as it’s with Maki-san, Nobara,” Yuuji says.

“Shut it, dumbass!”

They arrive at the cafe and take their seats, breaking off what would have been a flurry of fists thrown by Nobara at Yuuji. Megumi helps Yuuji take his coat off in the warmth of the cafe before wriggling out of his own. 

“I think the beach sounds good,” Nobara continues, hand propped to her chin. 

Megumi looks at the menu in his hands quietly. “That would be nice, actually…I think it would be great for Yuuji.”

“For me?” Yuuji slightly jumps at his seat. Nobody else knew, right? He was careful about slipping the documents at the bottom of his mounting papers back in their apartment.

Megumi looks curiously at him. “Yeah, why not? You’ve been working hard juggling your classes and extracurriculars these last few months. You deserve it.”

Yuuji feels his mouth close and open. Oh. The cold anxiety he has felt just moments before slowly morphing into one that fizzles his heart with warmth.

“Ugh! You two make me sick. Stop kissing in front of me before I have my coffee!”

“We’re not even kissing, Nobara,” Megumi replies, voice tired.

“Yet,” Nobara makes a disgusted face. “Yuuji’s ten seconds away from doing it anyway.”

And she isn’t even wrong, because Yuuji leans a little, giving a quick peck to the corners of Megumi’s lips.

Yuuji stares and smiles fondly as the heat rises up in Megumi’s cheeks.

“See that, Maki-san?” Nobara exclaims, “Why do pretty people like me have to suffer with seeing PDA every single day?”

Yuuji smiles, giddy. “I know you still love me, Nobara. Who else would watch Jennifer’s Body with you for the hundredth time if not for me?” 

“Duh, Megumi’s there.”

“Don’t worry, Yuuji. Nobara told me she loved your facial expressions while watching when you went for a bathroom break”

“Megumi! I thought I told you not to tell him that or he’ll drag me like a madman to the next film showing on campus.”

Maki suddenly speaks up. “Hey, that reminds me. Somebody else better tell Inumaki and Yuuta too. They already had to extend their stay in uni for a year, this would be a great time for them to unwind as well. I heard they won’t be leaving the campus dorms for break.”

And so the planning goes on from there, or as extensive a plan as they could come up with. Yuuji spends the afternoon more often than not arguing with Nobara and laughing it off afterwards like his earlier nerves never even existed in the first place.

And because nobody ever knows they’re at the periphery of the end unless it’s staring at them in the face, underneath the table, Megumi’s thumb draws lazy circles on his palms. Over and over again. As cyclical as love and its ability to be the precedence of pain.

—

Before his grandfather needed to be hospitalized, Yuuji would go home on a run only to be greeted by his neverending spiel about enjoying every last damn minute of his youth.

“I told you enough times, you idiot of a grandson. You should join a club like the young man that you are! What the hell are you doing here so early?!” 

“Chill, Grandpa. Club just ended early, y’know,” he would say, already making his way to the kitchen. “What’d you like for dinner tonight? Ohh, I know!! How about that vegetable soup I showed you last time on TV? It looked tasty, right? And it’s easy to do…” his voice fades, his head lost rummaging inside their refrigerator. 

His grandfather would only reply with a frustrated grunt. 

Those days, Yuuji felt as much as he knew that he was already on a precipice. He’d crush garlic cloves, feel the crunch of the cabbage being cut in half, and blink the tears from his eyes as he cuts onions to the sound of the television show his grandfather was watching from the living room, hands steady yet eyes watery.  

Everything was warm to the touch—the knife on his palm, the table showered by afternoon light, the image of his grandfather’s back every time Yuuji looked behind him. Everything enveloped in light except for Yuuji’s chest.

But if made to choose if he would much rather remember all those afternoons of being with his grandfather a little longer or forget all of it altogether, because on some days, it can’t help but feel more painful than beautiful, Yuuji would still choose the former.

Because before the growing pains of old age took over his grandfather’s limbs, Itadori Yuuji had clear moments of having cooked for him in his teenage years. 

He could never bring himself to try and forget about those days, no matter how tempting it sometimes get. How could he when the suffocating pressure in his chest slowly loosens throughout those nights? As he sits in front of his grandfather, very much alive, and says, “Itadakimasu!” because they were eating and they were both there, seated across from each other, sharing a meal; no matter the growing tiredness in his grandfather’s eyes and the growing worries in Yuuji’s bones?

Because in the end, knowledge and memory don't really matter. In the end, everything will still hurt, but in that sliver of a moment, life was beautiful.

And so Yuuji, no matter how much it hurts, keeps those moments close to his ribs and never lets go.

—

Their trip starts like this: Megumi leaning on Yuuji’s shoulder. Yuuji looking out from the car window. The trees outside passing them by.

Maki, who’s the one behind the wheel, laughs at something Nobara says. Yuuta and Inumaki playing rock, paper, scissors on the last row. A seating arrangement that only came up because Yuuta, when they met in front of their dorm while the sky was still dark said, “It’s alright, Itadori. Inumaki would rather have the room to stretch his legs at the back with just us two.” To which Inumaki affirmed with an enthusiastic thumbs up.

And there was that. Yuuji and Megumi side by side, their two dogs panting excitedly beside them in the second row of Maki’s car as the sun slowly comes up on the horizon. The hush morning light gently blending in with the darkness of the sky. The tall buildings of Tokyo slowly making way to houses in fields of white, to the lonesome cold of the highways, to crossroads between neighborhoods they will only know in passing.

Yuuji doesn’t know where they are most of the time. Couldn’t tell what prefecture they’re speeding by. Megumi is the one who tells him every hour or so, even when they both miss the signages that welcome them whenever the retellings of a joke become too loud and animated. Yuuji reenacting how Gojo sort of malfunctioned when Geto had to get one of his things from the lecture hall they both share.

In between the lull of those moments, Megumi, with his chin perched on Yuuji’s shoulder, whispers, “We’re in Hachioji now.”

An hour later, his eyes tracing the quiet city: “Otsuki looks pretty.” 

And when they stop by another convenience store when the snacks they brought before leaving were just empty plastic wrappers, it’s Yuuji who tangles his fingers with Megumi’s as they reached Tsuru, gently pulling him along the aisles.

They opt to stay at the parking lot for a while, opening the back of the car for them to sit and squeeze into. The road in front of them as the two dogs happily stretch out in the open air, sandwiches and soymilk in hand.

When they’re back on the road, Nobara tells them all to sit back and not relax because, you all have to listen carefully to every song in this damn playlist, okay!

The drive every now and then is then filled with Yuuji’s, ohhhs and ahhhs when a particular beat or lyric drops along with the occasional too-energetic ‘woah, what a good song, Nobara!! Put this on our shared playlist too”. Maki quietly bops her head along while Megumi, after every song hums a ‘not bad’ ‘I like this one a lot’ and sometimes, a short commentary of what he likes about Nobara’s song choices.

Earlier than expected, they arrive at their first itinerary in their quest to act as tourists for a day. The sun has just fully risen when they arrive at Road Station Asagiri Kogen. The trees were bare and there were already families milling around when they got out of the car. 

But despite other people around, the place still has that untouched look to it, as if the benches and signposts littered about greet every new person who sees it in quiet wonder—like they were the very first people who went and walked these winding streets.

They spend the morning with Mt. Fuji standing tall behind them in an almost reverent silence. Even Inumaki and Yuuta-senpai look to be aware of the serene surroundings, the only sounds their loud breathing and the crunch of dirt under their shoes as Inumaki makes Yuuta race him up the cobbled stairs. 

Nobara and Maki-san walk side by side a little further ahead of them, shoulders touching, lost in their own world.

Yuuji glances beside him at Megumi, their breaths fogging white in front of them.

He catches his gaze, the beginnings of a pout slowly forming on his lips. “Why are you staring?”

Yuuji grins. “Nothing!”

“You sure? You’ve been uncharacteristically quiet all day.”

He gasps loudly, making the dogs turn their heads at him. “Are you saying you still can’t get enough of my voice, Gumi?”

Megumi huffs. “You know what I mean.”

He does know what he means, but he chooses to act dumb. “On a normal day, you would be having a headache because of my arguments with Nobara. You are uncharacteristically patient today, baby,” he wiggles his eyebrow at him, teasing.

Megumi just looks at him, contemplative. Yuuji stares back until a small chuckle escapes his own lips. “Nothing’s wrong, I promise,” he squeezes his hand. 

How could there be something wrong? The world around them is quiet and Yuuji is beside the most beautiful person in the world.

How could anything be wrong? 

Megumi lets it go but in any capacity, he touches Yuuji any way he can. A tightening of his hold on his hand, a brush of his shoulders against his as they walk around, the weight of his stare across the table they choose to eat and rest in. Gently, he touches him, like he’s afraid Yuuji will float up into the ether and leave him alone for the winter air around and above them if he so much as looks away.

At one point, Nobara calls them all over. After Maki-san finishes taking what seems like hundreds of photos of her (and which Maki never once complains about, even asking every now and then for Nobara to look whether she likes the shots or not), they all huddle closely as Nobara takes a photo of them all together.

Back in the car, they all crane their heads to look as Nobara, chuckling at Megumi’s standard poker face in almost every selfie, raises her arms to show them all the photos.

With Mt. Fuji and its snow-white peak in the background, Yuuji grins at the contrast of how chaotic they all looked in the middle of such a serene place.

Inumaki doing a peace sign with his hand on Yuuta’s shoulders. Maki and Nobara, their arms intertwined.

Him, looking sideways, face close to Megumi. Smiling. The boy he loves smiling back.

Everything is alright.

—

They decide to eat lunch an hour away from the final location on their itinerary. Though it isn’t much of a list from the get-go, they went to as many places as they could in the morning. Stopping by another park and even on a quiet roadside as long as the place compelled them to.

It is over the noise of strangers and the clink of utensils in a restaurant in Shimoda that a weight drops on Yuuji’s stomach with a question:

“So, how’s your big move to the professional league going, Yuuji?” Maki asks, eyes looking at him over the waft of smoke. 

“I-” He feels Megumi going still beside him for a second before reaching for the dish in front of them. Yuuji swallows. “It’s going well. Coach told me I’ll pretty much get accepted,” he continues, looking down.

Before Maki-san can follow up with another question, Nobara cuts in. “Professional league? What do you mean Yuuji’s gonna go pro?”

“Oh, you haven’t told Nobara yet?” Maki asks, the first time he ever sees her slightly doubtful.

“I was just about to actually.”

Maki hums, slightly nodding. “Is that so? Well, I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t have a hard time adjusting, Yuuji. I don’t even know why Coach made you try out at such a far place to be honest. Osaka isn’t that bad but you’d barely be able to stay in Tokyo if that’s the case.”

“You’re moving to Osaka and this is the first time I’m hearing about this? You’re really something huh,” Nobara says, giving him a side sneer. 

“Right. This is big news for us, Itadori. I mean, we’re gonna miss you and all that. Didn’t even know you were planning to go pro,” Yuuta adds, in between timid sips of soup.

Yuuji feels his hand tremble slightly. He quietly puts his chopsticks down. Megumi still hasn’t uttered a single thing and it’s driving him insane. 

“I didn’t actually plan to, to be honest. Coach Sato just asked me one day if I wanted to attend the tryouts and I thought why the hell not?”

“But isn’t Osaka too far? I mean, we’re already from Tokyo for god’s sake. Are you sure your coach doesn’t have a vendetta against you, what with making you apply to a club hours away instead of clubs within the city?”

He pauses and carefully chooses his words. “...Well I also tried out for a club there but it’s in the first division and I’m not even sure if I’ll get in.” 

“Don’t worry too much, I’m pretty sure you’ve been getting offers anyways,” Maki says. “But no matter what club you actually get into, you’re gonna be hella busy, Itadori.” Almost everybody on the table sagely nods, an athletic trainer like her would know.

Nobara squints at him. “You better not miss any of my text messages no matter how busy practice gets or I’ll kill you.”

“Right,” he laughs. 

Nobara’s gaze suddenly shifts beside him. “You’ve been awfully quiet, Megumi. Don’t like the food?”

“No, it’s fine.”

She looks at him, unconvinced. “But how long have you two been keeping this from us?” Nobara asks, putting down her glass and calling the attention of the server by raising the empty pitcher. “Not gonna lie, I’m hurt. I know Yuuji is horrible but I expected better from you, Megumi. What happened to that bros before hoes pact we had against Yuuji back in freshman year?”

Yuuji is regretting every single decision he has ever come up with prior to this moment. He feels his palms sweat on his lap.

“I didn’t actually know about Yuuji’s tryouts. It’s my first time hearing about it too,” Megumi replies, unperturbed, carefully filling a bowl with miso and placing it beside Yuuji’s plate.

Time suddenly stills all around them. Yuuji sees the look of confusion on Nobara’s face and how it slowly twists into horrified realization. Nobody reacts for several seconds before everybody gasps in unison, even Inumaki who’s only been dutifully nodding and eating the entire time looks like a deer caught in the headlights.

“What?” Nobara exclaims, looking over at Yuuji. “You didn’t tell your boyfriend you might be going to a different city?”

Maki looks struck. “Oh my god, Itadori. I’m sorry. I thought everybody knew because Coach was laughing and telling everybody who’d passed by the club room about it,” she says, the most uncomfortable he has ever seen her. 

Yuuji hurriedly reassures her that he was about to tell them anyway. But after the initial shock from everyone fades, the silence returns tenfold.

This is it, Yuuji thinks. Megumi’s gonna hate him forever and never talk to him again.

Suddenly, Megumi’s voice rings around the table. “What got you all so quiet?” 

“Uh…” Nobara trails, “Because your boyfriend kept big news from you and dropped it on all of us over seafood?” Nobara offers, sporting a ‘we-definitely-fucked-up’ smile on her lips.

Megumi’s eyes widen just a fraction. “But…I don’t really mind. Yuuji would’ve told me the moment he was ready.” he says, voice low but entangled with so much conviction that Yuuji feels his chest constrict. “As long as I get to be there for him, I don’t care much.” 

Oh god, he fucked up. 

He looks at Megumi—at the curve of his lashes and his utter belief in everything Yuuji does and he tries not to cry.

“Sorry, Gumi. Was about to tell you about this once everything settled down. I’m so sorry,” he says, eyes filling with tears no matter how hard he tries to take it all in.

“Why are you…” Megumi sighs, taking his hand gently in his. “I told you…it doesn’t matter.”

Yuuji feels a lump on his throat rivaling the size of his inadequacies. He buries his face on the crook of Megumi’s neck.

Somewhere in front of them, Yuuji hears Nobara say, “Sometimes, maybe PDA is okay, Maki-san.” Light laughter returns to their table, and Yuuji sees a small smile on Megumi’s lips despite himself. 

And that was all there was to it. No drama, no accusatory looks, no silent treatments. No looks sent his way telling: let’s talk about this later, no touches meant to say I hope you feel guilty about keeping this from me.

Instead, they sit for a while in the restaurant; making light conversation about everything and nothing. Nobara telling everyone how down bad Megumi is (everyone else around the table just nods), how Yuuji’s tryouts went, Yuuta’s thesis progress, Maki’s rant on how Mai can never text like a normal person, and throughout it all, Megumi, never letting go of his hand under the table.

Every once in a while, they steal glances at each other.

Yuuji’s eyes saying, I’m sorry .

And Megumi’s simple reply, Don’t be.  

And when Yuuji looks at him once again, lost in guilt and something else he can’t quite name yet, all Megumi’s eyes say is this: I understand.

He holds Yuuji’s hands tenderly under the table, and it makes Yuuji want to cry more. 

By the time they reach their final destination, the sun was gently setting.

Yumigahama Beach remains mostly deserted, save for a few families scattered among the wide expanse of sand. 

Yuuji looks at the sea in front of him, his fingers loosely tangled in Megumi’s.

The sand curls up on his toes and the shore curls towards the sea, like it wants to envelop the blueness of everything while it still has time to do so. Trees surround either side of them and it's in the middle of everything else where they slowly make their way. 

The rest distance themselves from them. Probably in the belief that they would need the privacy to talk more about whatever happened earlier. But as Yuuji looks at Megumi’s hands and traces his eyes towards his face, he looks so at peace that Yuuji’s afraid just a small sound from his lips might disrupt him.

“Yuuji, please stop thinking about earlier.”

“What?” Yuuji asks, astounded. “I didn’t even say anything yet.”

The corners of Megumi lips quirk up for a small smile. “Yeah, but I know you’re thinking about it, idiot.” 

Yuuji scrunches up his face. “But how could I not, Gumi? That wasn’t really best boyfriend behavior back there.”

Megumi sighs. “I understand you, though. Like I said, I knew you would tell me about it once you’re ready. And maybe you weren’t yet and that’s okay.” He pauses and pulls Yuuji closer beside him. “And if you have to go to Osaka or stay in Tokyo, or hell, even if you go to America and could only go home once a year, I wouldn’t care.”

Yuuji’s breath stills.

“I wouldn’t care because I’d just go wherever you are,” Megumi continues, eyes set on him. The waves are crashing in front of them but it’s the softest sound Yuuji has ever heard in his entire life. “As long as you’ll have me, of course,” Megumi adds, voice a little bit shaky but still confident. As if posing a challenge.

He can’t help it, Yuuji surges up and kisses him. Like this, Megumi’s lips taste like the sea. Yuuji pulls back thinking he could drown in them. 

“Don’t love me too much, Gumi. You might just kill me,” he whispers, his hands cradling his cheeks.

“Too late, idiot.” 

Something in his chest clenches and Yuuji's pretty sure he looks stupid right now looking at Megumi like he’s the only one who’s stopping him from being swallowed by the ocean. 

Laughter rings a little farther from them. 

They look to the source and see the rest of them flicking water at each other, not enough to drench their clothes but enough to tickle the sensibilities of exhausted college seniors. Nobara calls out to them as she talks to Maki, hands animatedly in the air. 

Megumi makes to move, tugging Yuuji along with him but he doesn’t budge.

“Go ahead, I’ll follow in a while.”

“Okay,” he says, a lingering look in his eyes as he detangles his fingers from Yuuji’s. He gives him one last look over his shoulder but Yuuji just waves at him to go on. Alone, Megumi goes to where Nobara and the rest are.

Yuuji watches all of them from his spot as the sun bathes everything in golden light. Yuuta and Inumaki both chasing each other until Yuuta trips and Inumaki topples over him, Maki and Nobara walking closer to check whether they’re okay only for their ankles to be caught by the two. 

They swat and chase each other with water on their palms, and somewhere in between, Yuuji finds himself taking photos and videos of the chaos, a fond smile slipping past his lips. He stays like that for a while, just soaking it in.

This is what he wants his grandfather to see: him, carried by the sounds of the sea but surrounded by the people he loves and who love him. But more than that, he wants him to not just see it, but to just be a call away to share the sounds of the waves with. To just be a train ride away every time he misses him. To be able to go home to their house in Sendai and confess to him over melting ice cream and chips: Grandpa, how do I make these moments that make me feel human last? How do I make the fear of being left behind go away?

And in his musings, Megumi catches his gaze, and despite the growing weight in his chest, Yuuji feels himself slowly smiling.

He pockets his phone and makes his way towards them, Megumi and Nobara smiling warmly as he reaches their side, and something in Yuuji’s chest aches. 

When it is time for them to leave and Yuuji looks outside the window as they make their way home, the only thing circling his mind is another question that haunts him until he falls asleep that night: 

Is it good? Is it good to be loved so much it hurts? 

—

It is at the age of twenty-one that Yuuji forms a new habit of leaving flowers.

The first one: for his grandfather resting in Sendai.

The second: for a boy he considered a good friend. On a lonesome grave marked with the name Yoshino Junpei. A boy who was gone too early too soon. 

And the third: for a professor who, in the short amount of time he was under his guidance, turned into someone who Yuuji would cry his heart out upon news of his accident.

When Nanamin died, Yuuji was forced to face a fear that has been haunting him since his grandfather first turned ill; the first question that he will try so hard to repress but keep coming back to:

Is the price of being born as one Itadori Yuuji to be cursed?

—

It was back in the streets of Tokyo that the crashing waves of the ocean caught up with Yuuji. On the streets of Tokyo where he broke Megumi’s heart. 

He comes home late that night, as he did every single day since they came back from their winter break. There were never enough hours in the day it seems. Yuuji would attend his classes from morning until the afternoon, go help Geto-sensei in between his breaks as his student assistant, meet him after classes at the faculty room to get instructions about sheets he had to sort for students’ grades, rush to football practice, discuss their gameplay with Coach Sato, and finally, go home just in time for dinner.

But it never really stops there. As he’s juggling all his extracurriculars, Yuuji can’t just forget he’s a college student who has his own classes he shouldn’t fail. And so he eats dinner with Megumi, goes on to do all his papers, assignments, and study for exams coming closer than he would’ve preferred them to.

Yuuji had always been given the idea of how hard it is to stay in university, how leagues different it was from whatever cramming session you once thought you had in high school. But nobody ever told him that the hardest part wouldn’t be his program or the various extracurriculars that he willingly signed up for. 

Nobody told him the hardest part of being in university is how taxing it is to stay human and sane between your responsibilities and the paralyzing reality of growing older while knowing that your hands are calloused but the skin between your fingers feels just as tender as the day you turned fifteen.

And because vulnerability does not care for deadlines and personal circumstances when it decides to take hold of your whole body, Yuuji feels the full weight of what it means to be loved by Fushiguro Megumi on a quiet winter night.

They always do this: go out for a late convenience store run because they always seem to be hungry and their pantry never seems to contain whatever craving they have.

Putting on his hoodie, Yuuji grabs the key to their warm apartment and walks towards the colder streets. The stars are visible tonight, much more than they usually are in the usual light-polluted skies in the heart of Tokyo.

He feels his phone vibrate in his pocket and takes it out.

An email.

From: OSAKA AO

To: Itadori Yuuji

Greetings, Mr. Itadori.

I am Suzuka Yu, manager of CLUB OSAKA AO. You might have not met me when you had your tryouts with Coach Sato last month. But again, we would like to send you our heartfelt congratulations for receiving an offer from the team!

We are deeply delighted to hear from your Coach that you're inclined to hear more from us despite being offered by another club in Tokyo. 

I’m pretty sure that you already received the invitation last week, but I would just like to gently remind you about the invitation scheduled two days from now for your possible contract signing.

Let me know if you have any inquiries, Itadori. We cannot wait to welcome you to our club!

Kind regards,

Suzuka Yu

He feels his body freeze for a second before he pockets his phone just as quickly.

Megumi looks at him sideways. “Your professor?”

“Nah, just a classmate asking about tomorrow’s paper.”

Megumi simply looks at him. They enter the store and make their way to the drinks section first as they always do.

Scanning rows upon rows of milk and chocolate drinks, Yuuji can’t help but let muscle memory bring his eyes and feet to their usual path. In the in-betweens, when he slightly pauses and sees Megumi with quiet consideration in his eyes, a drink in hand, Yuuji forgets the sinking feeling in his stomach and thinks instead: I like to do this forever with him. Look over cold refrigerators of fruit juices, scan shelves of snacks to satiate their insatiable appetites, eat cold ramen in the dead of night, ponder the pros and cons of orange juice over pineapple ones.

To trade the air of all his doubts with the cold unfiltered night sky of Tokyo. To walk these streets and any other crossroads they might live close to in the future, no matter where and how they get there.

But an email burns heavy in his pockets and the air has suddenly changed. While it felt like an embrace just minutes ago, it now feels more like pinpricks of tiny needles on his face on their way back to their apartment.

Yuuji’s hands are heavy with food and a bouquet of tulips he picked beside the counter; the ones in their apartment were wilting after all. And his steps feel heavier than they should’ve been, like it knows he’s heading towards a cliff before Yuuji was even aware of it.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Megumi’s voice suddenly rings in the quiet air. “You know about the thesis consultation I had yesterday.” He doesn’t ask, just states.

Yuuji looks at him and hums.

“Well, I’ve already told you about my adviser, right?”

He nods. Megumi did, his boyfriend likes to keep to himself but he never keeps secrets from Yuuji. He feels his insides twist.

“Well yesterday, my adviser said they’d love to recommend me to a workshop after graduation. It’s by an author featured in one of our core courses. The slots would be limited and all that, but…” he inhales. “It would be in Fukuoka and you’re going to Osaka.” Megumi looks at him. He tucks his hand in his pocket, looking straight ahead. “I’m thinking it would be nice but I don’t want to go fa—”

“You should accept it.” The words were already out of his mouth before he could even stop himself.

“Hm?” Megumi turns his head to look at him again. His brows slightly raised at the sudden steel in his voice. 

“I said you should accept it,” Yuuji repeats.

“You didn’t let me finish. I was about to say I was going to turn it down because I found this good apartment in Osaka the other day and I thi—”

“Didn’t you hear me? I said you should accept it, Megumi.”

Megumi tenses. “Wait, is there something wrong? Are you mad at me?”

“Yes,” is all Yuuji says, before stalking off.

Megumi doesn’t let up, immediately following him. “Wait a minute, what’s gotten into you?” He asks, catching his arm.

Yuuji inhales and skids to a halt, pausing and turning around to look at him. “What’s gotten into me? Hell, Megumi, shouldn’t you be asking what’s gotten into you instead?” He says, chest slightly heaving. “Why are you being so…” Yuuji waves his hand in the air, frustrated. “...being so casual about turning it down?” he asks, a hint of hopelessness tinging his words.

“What the hell does that mean?”

“I’m asking you why you’re changing your plans based on what will happen with mine?” Yuuji looks him straight in the eye. “Don’t you want to experience being mentored by one of the authors you’ve always looked up to?” Yuuji continues, incredulous. “Don’t you want to explore other great opportunities that are being given to you?”

“What?” Megumi asks, brows furrowing. “I don’t understand where you’re going with this or why you’re so mad all of a su—”

“You don’t understand? Let me put it this way, Megumi,” he inhales, shakily. “Don’t you want to have a life outside of mine?”

Megumi’s eyes widen, Yuuji’s words echoing on the empty street. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Yuuji feels his fingers tighten on the grocery bags. 

“Is it so fucking bad to make plans based on where I want to be in the future?” Megumi continues, aghast.

With his hands and the heart beating in his chest, numb, Yuuji says goodbye to the last thread of sanity in his mind. “I don’t want to do this anymore, Megumi,” he whispers, words slow.

“Then shut up and cool down. I think the stress is getting to you. You’ve been sprouting bullshit since we left the store.”

“No, you don’t understand. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

In the silence that follows, it feels like neither of them breathes.

Megumi’s mouth falls agape, but he closes them quickly. “Now what is this all about?”

Yuuji sighs, defeated. A lump forms in his throat, every part of him aching. “It means exactly what it means, Gumi…” he looks away. “I think we should break up.”

The streets become motionless. The stars, quiet. And Megumi stands there with his heart on his sleeve.

Nobody speaks for a while.

“What the fuck, Yuuji?” Megumi asks, voice quiet as if he’s simply dreaming. When Yuuji doesn’t say a word, Megumi shakes his head as if doing so would shake Yuuji’s words off. “Cut this shit out, this isn’t funny.”

Yuuji knows. Knows it too well. He remains silent, trying to return his gaze, steeling himself. His knees feel seconds away from giving in.

Yuuji sees realization dawn in Megumi’s eyes at the same time. The flash of confusion. Realization. Denial. Hurt. 

Megumi sucks in a breath. “So you’re not joking huh,” he exhales, a glint of panic touching his eyes. “And here I thought…” Megumi looks away, hiding the shaking of his hand. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” Yuuji murmurs, shaking his head. He knows he sounds absolutely pathetic right now but there’s an email weighing his pockets and legs down, and the future is at the corner of this very street. 

He can no longer ignore time.

“Was it something I said earlier?”

He shakes his head once more.

“Come on, Yuuji, give me something here,” Megumi whispers, running his hand through his hair. “Did you…” He pauses, looking at the ground, his words sounding choked up. “Is there somebody else?”

“No.” Yuuji quickly replies. “No, there’s nobody else, Megumi,” he adds, more quiet this time.

Megumi looks pained. “Then what’s the fucking problem, Yuuji? Pardon me for asking, but don’t you think breaking up with your boyfriend after getting groceries for two is fucked up?”

Yuuji winces. Megumi’s right. Of course he is.

“I—” Yuuji cuts himself off. “Have you never thought of what’s gonna happen in the future? Things will be hugely different once we graduate, Megumi. We wouldn’t even live in the same city anymore.”

“So?”

“So? Don’t you think it would be smart of us to keep pretending like nothing will change?”

“When did you ever care about appearing smart,” Megumi says, mouth in a straight line. “And don’t give me that bullshit. Things will change but that doesn’t have to affect us.”

“You can’t keep putting off what’s bound to happen, Megumi.”

“But what is bound to happen, Yuuji? You’re making up problems that don’t even exist in the first place.”

“Why? Is it so hard to wrap your head around the fact that for once in my life, I’m thinking about what could possibly happen?” Yuuji inhales, voice shaky. “And how can we not change if everything else will? How on earth is that possible?” Yuuji whispers. He knows it too well. The changes that happen to your bones after what you once knew to be true and yours are gone. 

The changes after a loss.

Megumi stares deep into his eyes as if he’s searching for something, and when he speaks again, it’s like he found what he was looking for. “Do we really have a problem, Yuuji?” he asks, voice desperate. “Tell me if something else is bothering you we can talk about i—”

“Can’t you still see the problem here, Megumi?” 

“The truth is I think of the future and you’re no longer there,” he continues, breath fanning white in front of them. “When I try to think of where I would be in a few years, I don’t see you anywhere no matter how hard I try to look, Megumi,” he repeats, more quietly this time, swallowing his heart and his tears and the truth behind his words with him.

He doesn’t expound any further and for the second time that night, Megumi just looks at him. The expression on his face makes him look unguarded, so young in his confusion. Yuuji has never hated himself more than he did at that moment.

“How can you say that?” Megumi replies, slowly. As if the act of speaking hurts him. “How can you just casually say you can no longer see a future with me out of nowhere?”

“When did you want me to say it, Megumi? While I’m packing my bags away for another city?” Megumi starts shaking his head, Yuuji presses on. “When it’s already too late?”

“Never,” Megumi says, voice finally breaking. “Fuck, I never wanted to hear you say it, Yuuji.”

“It’s been a long time coming.”

Megumi pauses, realization and succeeding disbelief dawning in his eyes. “That time at the beach, were you even sorry at all? All these months, were you just being busy on purpose?”

Yuuji keeps his silence and everything is still. He can’t even find small mercies in the form of a car passing them by or a chatter of friends down the corner or just. Anything. Can’t even find a semblance of distraction to focus on. It’s as if the whole world waits with bated breath along with him.

“So it was like that huh?” Megumi rasps, his hurt spilling on the concrete and the way he looks at him. “If something was wrong all this time, don’t you think you should’ve told me something? Anything?”

“Even if I did, I knew you wouldn’t let go of us that easily.”

Megumi laughs with no humor. “And here I thought you wouldn’t as well.” The streetlight ahead of them casts a part of Megumi’s hair in yellow light. Yuuji aches. 

“But you know what’s more fucked up? I don’t even care if I’m being pathetic right now, but I would’ve done everything, fuck, I’d still do anything if you’d just let me,” he says, almost pleading, his hands reaching out for Yuuji’s, clasping it in his. 

Yuuji looks at their hands, at Megumi’s holding his tightly, and he bites back the tears filling his eyes. When he speaks, he’s still looking at how they look intertwined. “If what you say is true….if you really love me that much, Megumi. Then please, please don’t just brush off what I’m saying.” He doesn’t need to say the underlying message: leave me alone for now. 

He doesn’t need to. He carefully untangles his fingers from Megumi’s hold. 

It’s fucked up how they end this way—gently. How them falling apart is probably the last time he gets to hold Megumi with tenderness at all. 

He hears Megumi’s sharp intake of breath like he’s been punched in the gut, the moment he crashes down from the force still something unforeseen, impossible to fathom.

It’s insane how you can hurt people with words and gentleness.

Yuuji looks away because he isn’t sure if he can still face seeing Megumi’s hurt for a second longer, certain he isn’t strong or even worthy enough to see him this vulnerable when he was the one who caused it in the first place. “I’d take these up and get some of my things. I’d stay over at Nobara’s for the meantime,” he turns around and starts walking, not even waiting for a reply.

He doesn’t even deserve one, Yuuji knows. And what would Megumi even say to that? Okay, Yuuji. Be sure to take care and thank you for the last four years of our lives together. I had fun? No, he’d rather spare them both the pain. But on the way back, with Megumi walking behind him like a shadow who’s too far behind when he should’ve been close, Yuuji can’t stop thinking:

Out of all the cards the universe has dealt him, who knew it would be him who would break his heart the most?

He would’ve laughed till he cried if he thought Megumi won’t be able to hear him. 

The time it took him to place the groceries they bought on the table and get the things he needed for a few days away from their apartment could be a record breaker. He never hears Megumi enter after him even as he finished packing, his backpack slung on his shoulder. 

On his way out, Yuuji looks at the bouquet of tulips still on the bag on the table. He never bothers taking it out. 

Forcing his head to look away, Yuuji leaves their apartment, the wilting tulips on their vase, and Megumi’s life behind with the sound of the door closing. 

—

yuuji

Nobara

maki-san best girl

Oh boy just like clockwork huh

yuuji

i swear this is the last time, but could you please block my number now?

maki-san best girl

No

yuuji

I’d treat you to a shopping spree this weekend :( 

maki-san best girl

If you want to block me so bad, do it yourself bitch !!!

yuuji

….nevermind

maki-san best girl

Thought so

Just talk to him, maybe? He’s still willing to listen, Yuuji

Seen 8:24 AM

—

Once, in their second month after becoming official, their conversation went like this:

“Journal Articles or Personal Essays?” Yuuji asks, a slight frown on his face.

“Personal Essays”

“Geto-sensei or Gojo-sensei”

“Geto-sensei”

“Me as an earthworm or me as a caterpillar”

Megumi looks at him in exasperation. “Remind me again why we’re doing this?”

“It’s for research purposes, Gumi.”

“What kind of research would ever benefit from knowing whether I’d choose you digging through soil or becoming larvae?”

“Sure, it’s a niche topic but that doesn’t have to mean it’s already insignificant,” Yuuji says, shaking his head. “As a passionate humanities student who appreciates the depth of human curiosity, I would have expected you to already know that.”

“What are you even talking about?” Megumi sighs. “Ugh, whatever. A caterpillar. At least you could still become a butterfly.”

“Aw babe, you think I’d be a pretty one?”

“Who cares? You’re a butterfly. But yes, of course, you’d be a pretty one.”

“You’re the best.” He grins. “Now onto the next portion.”

“This isn’t over yet?”

“Do you believe our freshman year dorm should have abolished curfew?”

“Yes,” Megumi says. “We made good memories from all that running though.”

Yuuji hums contemplatively, remembering how they used to run the entire length of their university’s field just to make it before curfew. “What was your first impression of Itadori Yuuji?”

“Pink.”

“Really? That’s it? Pink?”

“No, actually. I remembered thinking you looked sad.”

“What? And here I thought you’d say it was love at first sight.”

“That too.”

“I can accept that,” Yuuji says, smiling. “Okay, onto the next one. Megumi, do you think marriages sometimes fail because people in relationships get so swept up with love they sometimes forget they’re individuals with particular needs and desires that don't have anything to do with their partner?”

“Wait, is this supposed to be the essay part of this test?”

Yuuji ignores him. “Like of course there’s that infamous honeymoon period, right? But then after months and years of that, one day, you’d stop dead in your kitchen and think: oh wow. I’ve sacrificed a lot to make this work, but am I still here? Am I still me? You know…something like that?”

Megumi raises his brow at him. “Where did this question even come from?”

“Nothing, just thinking really. Gojo-sensei made us watch A Marriage Story for extra credit earlier, and yep, don’t ask me how that’s related to physics but he told us something about learning the art and reality of time and space between people for relationships to work and anyways, yeah, what do you think?”

“I think,” he says, craning his head to look at Yuuji. “I’m not the best person to ask.”

“Why not?”

“Well, Gojo isn’t married, and he’s pretty much the only family I have aside from Tsumiki. An unfortunate situation if you ask me.”

“You really love Gojo-sensei.”

“I do not,” Megumi says, like he’s talking about the weather and not the man who raised him. “Besides, all the essays I’ve read about marriages pretty much tell me how intricate and deeply personal every marriage is. Just shows me how much I’ll never know unless I do get into one myself.”

Yuuji hums. “Fair.”

“What about you? Do you think they fail because people forget the importance of the self when they’re in relationships or does it all just boil down to different ideologies? After all, even the things we do for entertainment like our consumption of films, books, or anything part of popular culture is mostly mediated and influenced by the different ideologies that have been normalized around us,” Megumi looks at him. “What more when it comes to our notions of ourselves and our relationships with others? Maybe love really isn’t to blame, maybe it’s all just a matter of how differently we see the world and our individual and relational places in it.”

“I know I probably told you this a hundred times by now, but you’re so smart, babe. Are you sure you’ve never been married before?” He says, teasing. Megumi swats at his arm and Yuuji’s laughter rings around the summer afternoon. 

“Did you know I had zero clue about the literary or critical theories you were talking about when we first started becoming friends? Hell, I didn’t even know it was possible to critique books and society with that much depth before I talked to you but wow yeah,” Yuuji says. Megumi’s cheeks are dusted with pink.

“Well, I don’t exactly have parental figures to look for an example of marriage just like you,” Yuuji continues. “But, I don't know. This is pretty embarrassing, but what you said just now made me realize I was asking the wrong questions.”

“Really? How so?”

“Maybe the question isn’t whether marriages fail because people forget about themselves but instead, do marriages fail because people miss the fact that despite how you both can be born and raised in the same society and with the same set of ideologies, there would always be little things that vary between each individual? And those little things add up and suddenly, somehow, you might wake up and realize you haven’t taken the time of day getting to truly sit down with the person you claim to love and ask them what they really think about big things like religion and politics. But it’s not just that, you also missed asking them how their dynamics with their siblings were when they were young or how they feel whenever they wake up from an afternoon nap. Do they even think about those things? Or do they feel sad or confused about where they are after they wake up? Just the small silly details that make somebody them but eventually make up the person for who they are.”

Megumi hums, considering what he has just said. It’s one of the things he likes about talking with him. They see the world in different ways but they have always been heard by each other.

“If you put it that way, then it really does come down to how people talk to each other. If they even have meaningful conversations at all.”

“Do you think this is meaningful?” He asks. Megumi just continues staring at him, curious. “These conversations we’re having now?”

“I think there’s a sort of mindfulness or even intent that we have to have so we could think that something happening is ‘meaningful’. It’s how we signify these moments that’s important with how we make stories about our lives after all. Or then we could look back on it and think, that moment is special because I said so,” Megumi stares in front of them. “So yes, of course, it’s meaningful. Every moment with you is. Silly Q&As or not.” Megumi continues, direct as ever but voice as soft as the watermelon juice trickling down between their fingers.

Yuuji blushes and looks away, taking a big bite out of the fruit, humming quietly to his answer. He doesn’t tell him, I really just thought I’d ask because I want us to last, you know? Because how can you even say that to a guy you just started dating? Yuuji used to think he’s a pretty stable guy considering everything, but lately, it seems like one gust of wind is all it would take to whisk him away.

His hand reaches for his on the floor instead. “So if we ever get married today, do you think we have a chance of making it out in one piece, or will we have our own divorce story?” He asks, eyes crinkling.

Megumi squints at him and actually pouts. Fushiguro Megumi pouting. Yuuji feels his mind go haywire. 

“Don’t ever suggest that again.”

He feels himself laugh. 

“I’m serious, Yuuji. I’m afraid you’d have to kill me to get rid of me.”

“Who says I want to get rid of you though?”

Megumi leans on his shoulder, nuzzling his neck. “You better not. Ever. Besides, I’ll never get tired of you. You can try chasing me away with a thousand more of your questions and you’d still fail”

“I’m glad to know we’re already off to a good start for marriage then.”

“Then how about hearing my vows now?”

Yuuji turns to look at him, putting aside his food. “Are you serious?”

“Do you think this is a joking matter, Yuuji?”

“No, no, of course not.” I just can’t comprehend how you’re beating me to the down bad competition I thought I was winning in my head, he thinks. “I’m just curious what you could even say for your vows considering we just started dating you know…” Never mind that Yuuji can probably write his own for Megumi the instance he first saw him.

“Of course. It’s because I’m in love with you,” Megumi says, simply, like he’s talking about something inane and not something that never fails to shift Yuuji’s world everytime he hears it.

Yuuji is pretty sure his face is redder than the watermelon they just ate.

Megumi takes his hand and gently but firmly holds it in his. “Just shut up, okay?”

He swallows, in disbelief that this is his life.

“Itadori Yuuji,” he inhales, looking up at Yuuji’s eyes. “Do you ever feel lonely whenever you wake up from an afternoon nap?” He asks, and Yuuji feels his heart beat faster. Megumi continues, “Of course, I wouldn’t expect you to give an answer to that right now while I’m giving my vows. But that’s just one of the first out of the hundreds and thousands of questions I’ll ask you from now on. I know we don’t always see eye to eye, but it has never stopped us from understanding each other anyway.”

“Before meeting you, I would sometimes ask myself how I could ever know when I’m in love with another person. My parents have never been around much of my life, I know you’re aware of that. So I don’t know much about love in that way. But the only thing I do know from my father is how much he loved my mother, despite everything,” Megumi says, looking down.

“I don’t care about the difference in our ideologies or where our relationship stands in relation to everything else that makes life what it is. All I know is that I’ll always want you no matter what. Even if things go smoothly or if things don’t. I honestly don’t care. Let’s talk about the weather while the world is burning around us, let’s discover what food reminds us of our childhood homes as we make our very own. Itadori Yuuji, let’s have all the conversations we can have in this life and the next. I love you.”

If Itadori Yuuji cries in their second month after becoming official, only Megumi knows.

“What do you say about getting married later for real, Gumi?”

Megumi’s eyes glint with challenge. “Is this still part of your hypothetical questions or are you serious?”

“How could you ever think I’m not serious about us? You wound me.”

“Then no.”

“What? Why?”

“I’m gonna be the one who proposes to you for real, idiot.”

“Beat me to it?”

“I think you should finish your requirements first before challenging me to much important things like a marriage proposal, Yuuji.”

“Mean,” he says, chuckling nonetheless. “Just you wait, I’m totally gonna beat you to it someday.”

Much later, as the setting sun finds them lying side by side. Yuuji looks beside him and says, “Let’s have that, Gumi.” Matching rings on fingers. Conversations. Years and years of both. 

Megumi looks at him but does not ask. 

Yuuji seals it with a kiss.

—

The days go on. Yuuji walks into weeks that turn into months, his everyday routine never becoming as painfully mundane as it was. But despite how monotony kills the soul, Yuuji could never forget that once, on an unassuming summer afternoon, he promised Megumi years. Could never forget how painfully young and ignorant he was.

Because how could they not last? What could possibly stop the kind of love that comes with the vision of them settling down together one day as clear as how his name sounds whenever Megumi says it? As natural as it already is to fall asleep in Megumi’s warmth at the end of a long hard day. As easy as breathing and thinking of what Megumi will think of a book or a place or a song Yuuji first comes across with?

Will he like this? Yes, he probably will. He’ll appreciate how the author’s thought process managed to deconstruct a theme as encompassing as love. And on some days, he eats dumplings in a restaurant close to where the football team have their joint practice and the thought that Megumi wouldn’t have liked how it tasted would come to him. Without much prodding. His thoughts always picking up on Megumi like coexisting with another boy his age and knowing him more than he knows himself has always been part of what makes Itadori Yuuji, him.

And because he has known what it was like to love Fushiguro Megumi, he will think of him as he tries to cook homemade meatballs for what feels like the first time in months since they broke up. He will see his inky black hair in every dark-haired guy that tries to talk to him and then he will think, it’s not messy enough and hate himself in the process. 

Everything and anything is still about Megumi and Yuuji doesn’t know if there’ll be ways to undo thinking of him in every aspect of his life. He’s not even sure he wants to in the first place.

That’s why when he comes across Gojo in the faculty cubicle meant for Geto on a Thursday afternoon, he pauses.

The first thought that crosses his mind is this: The man who raised his ex-boyfriend is here. He momentarily forgets that Gojo is a professor, someone who exists outside of the life he used to have with Megumi.

“Yuuji! What are you doing here?” Gojo asks incredibly loud, the fidget spinner turning in his hand.

“I’m–” he pauses, slowly letting the door close behind him. “Geto-sensei asked me to bring the remaining student papers I have?” Wait, why is he the one sounding doubtful here? Gojo isn’t the professor who was supposed to greet him here in the first place. “But what are you doing here sensei? This is the humanities department.”

“Oh, nothing. Just waiting for Suguru,” he says, waving his fingers in the air. “But enough questions about me, Yuuji! How have you been? Seems like I never see you around here anymore. Maybe I’d have to thank Suguru for letting us cross paths at all.”

Yuuji only nods. He has been avoiding him at all costs, but he doesn’t need to know that. “I’m doing fine, I guess,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. “You know, just been here and there, sensei. Never knew graduating a week from now wouldn’t stop bureaucracy from taking my time to process clearances and all that,” he laughs weakly.

Gojo hums, contemplative, momentarily making his spinner stop. “Y’know what Yuuji-kun? I had a silly thought just now,”

He thinks, When did you not have a silly thought, Gojo-sensei? But what he says is, “What is it?”

“What if you join us on Thursday? We’re going to celebrate the start of your journey to the real world!” he exclaims. “And don’t worry, Kugisaki’s gonna be there as well. And that’s actually why I’m here, I’m still convincing Suguru to join.”

“Oh, I’m not really sure I should, sensei…”

“Are you worried about Megumi?”

Yuuji doesn’t speak. Just kind of stares at a spot between the wall and Gojo’s leg.

“Oh don’t think too much about it. I think he’ll even like it better if you were there.”

Yuuji’s brow furrows. “I’m sure you know that—“ we broke up. I broke his heart. No longer together in any sense of the word except in every corner of Yuuji’s beating and wretched heart where Megumi is still around at every turn. “—I’m sure you know what happened.” Yuuji settles for instead. 

Because that’s what it is. Something that happened, just one in a million fuckery in his life that somehow is making way for bigger, more heart-rending emotions Yuuji has never thought still possible with his already existing intimacy with grief. 

“You know, Yuuji,” Gojo says slowly, looking down at his hands. “There was once in Megumi’s third grade in elementary when I was called to his school. At first, I was worried that he was having a hard time making friends. He never was outgoing like that since childhood, always with that pouty face of his.” Yuuji sees a smile at the corner of his lips. He isn’t sure where this is heading, but he feels the air around them shift. “But well, I got there and the first thing his teacher told me after gushing about how handsome and young I was to be his father, was that Megumi spent their first family day alone.”

“Apparently, he even hid it from Tsumiki the best way he could. It was only when it was already halfway through that everybody realized he wasn’t participating at all. And when Tsumiki found out, Megumi made her promise never to tell me.” Gojo looks him in the eye just then and Yuuji feels pinned down. “Do you see now, Yuuji? It took me a lot of time, years even, for Megumi to let me be there for him in ways that don’t just involve how he’s going to eat in a month, who will pay his school fees, how they will have a roof over their heads. Megumi holds his ground on how he believes things should be. He has always been a little more rigid in following his principles. He’s stubborn, Yuuji, but I’m sure you know by now—that makes him stubborn in his devotion as well,” Gojo says, a note of pride unmistakable in his voice.

“He’s adamant in his reservations but seeing him with you…it became more evident how his unyielding nature can make him open up more.” Gojo smiles then, a small one that turns into a rueful grin. 

“I know what happened, Yuuji-kun. A semblance of it, anyway. But despite everything, you were both happy, right?” Gojo looks at him, he could feel his eyes shining even behind his dark glasses.

Yuuji doesn’t even need to answer. It’s as rhetorical as anything could ever be.

Were they happy? 

God, they were. 

And the unspoken question to Gojo’s inquiry lies there in between Yuuji’s fingertips: Was he happy?

He was. The happiest. The happiest he has been in a long, long while. Happy in ways he didn’t even know was still possible for people cursed with loss like him. 

Yuuji bites his lip, trying his hardest not to cry. He doesn’t know how to answer a question he knows the answer to so well. And so, he asks instead.

“Sensei…how do I stop being so afraid?” his voice comes out shaky. “It’s just that it sometimes feels like there are things in my life I could no longer call my own or even imagine having because I’m just so,” Yuuji squints his eyes. “Terrified of everything bad that could happen. I know I have a tendency of being unable to let go of the past though I try my hardest to seem like I have my shit together. And I do get ahead of myself, sensei.” Yuuji laughs humorlessly. “But I feel like everything will come crashing down any second and it would all be because of me. What do I do with all this love when the moment it enters my brain, it turns into all the things I fear instead?”

“I’m so sorry,” he continues, sounding pathetic even to his ears. “But is this an appropriate question to ask in the faculty room? Wait sensei, is this even a thing you ask your former Physics professor who’s also the father of your ex-boyfriend? Holy shit, I’m so sorry if it’s too much, sensei. You can ignore it. And I’m also sorry for cursing here, I guess.” Yuuji laughs, he feels insane.

“Oh Yuuji…” Gojo says, closing the distance between them. And when he was close enough, Gojo slings his arm around Yuuji’s shoulders and ruffles his hair affectionately.

Yuuji tries his hardest to stop it, but in the end, he sniffles. And sooner than later, it’s impossible to stop the tears flowing from his eyes.

Gojo glances at him, speaking with his voice low. “I’ve once felt like love is a curse, you know? I still do sometimes, when things get rough more than usual. But you know what else I’ve discovered, Yuuji?” Gojo pauses, hunching and resting his elbows on his knees. “Love is the strongest curse not because it’s this phenomenon that we have to burden ourselves with. Because sometimes, no matter what we do, and no matter how much we say we’re rational or feel like we know what’s best for us, sometimes, things just don’t go our way. Circumstances in our lives just don’t work out. It even turns into situations beyond the horrors we kept imagining would happen just before we go to sleep, so much more than we can handle and process at the moment. And that’s what makes it hurt.” He starts snatching tissues from Geto’s desk and handing them to Yuuji. He patiently waits as he slowly calms down, crouching slightly so their heads are on the same level.

“That’s what makes us think loving itself is a curse. Not solely because of us, and not solely because of the other person either. But because of every single thing that affects us no matter how much we try not to let it. And sometimes, we’re so oblivious to it. God, we’re really just human after all,” he says, sounding wistful. “Because there are things that take time to process and we start to conflate everything else that’s wrong with the love we have. And we fuck up because of it. We miss our chances to say the important things, we fail to notice the other person, and we get hurt in the process. But removed from it all, love…love is the lightest, most simple thing there is.” Now, he’s smiling as if he wants to tell Yuuji that he understands him. Because he does. Yuuji’s lips wobble.

Everything is quiet for a second save for the hum of the air conditioner in the room. Yuuji feels weak in a way that he has never experienced before. Gojo’s words reaching his skin but never sinking in because in truth, Yuuji’s body recognizes the truth in those words like it has already buried itself there a long time ago. He has always known this after all: love is tender.

And in its softness, it will leave you raw.

Gojo looks back at him, his dark glasses reflecting the fluorescent lights above. “I could go on and on about this, but I think there’s something more important than anything I have in mind.” He pauses, finally taking off his glasses and looking him straight in the eye. It’s the most serious Yuuji has ever seen him. “I have to ask, Yuuji. Did letting go of your relationship become the best thing you could have done for your well-being?”

Gojo’s eyes are as serious as he asks him like Yuuji’s answer to this question is all he ever needs to know.

“No,” Yuuji says, voice small but full of conviction. He still regrets it every waking day of his life. It even permeates his dreams.

At his answer, Gojo’s gaze softens. “You see, Yuuji-kun, this is what I’ve learned in this wise age of mine: the things and personal hurdles we have to navigate to protect the love we have for others and even ourselves is tiring, painful work, but denying love itself? That one. That one is the real curse.”

Yuuji grimaces. The hum of the following silence to Gojo’s words melting into his bones.

“Now, isn’t love neat?” Gojo grins. “And Yuuji, the people who love us will love us the same throughout our fears. It’s just up to us whether we’ll let them or not. But for what it’s worth, sometimes the things we deem too selfish for us to grab onto really aren't. We’re not selfish for accepting those freely given after all. Be it sugary snacks given by somebody just because they knew you have a sweet tooth or this intangible feeling yet very real thing we call love,” he says, smiling like he’s reliving a treasured memory.

Gojo’s advice doesn’t come as an epiphany. It comes to Yuuji in waves of calm, deep-seated acknowledgment. A redirection to things he has already known to be true and will always know to be true:

To be able to say despite his anxieties: love is worth it. To feel the desire and conviction coursing in his bloodstream telling him to hold onto Fushiguro Megumi as tightly as he could.

In that grand space of acknowledgment, he still knows grief like the back of his hand. How hot tears roll down your cheeks as you try to deny the fact that you’re hurting and probably missing people more than your soft, puny heart could carry. But in there, it does not exist so much as in the space of a vacuum that denies every other truth aside from the people and things he mourns for.

In that space, Yuuji sees his grief as clear as day. But he also sees the nights Megumi would hold him close and whisper sweet nothings in his ear. Knowing with just a glance on his face the hurt he was trying to hide all along. He has always read him well, in spite of all his denial of everything that makes his heart heavy. 

Gojo tells him goodbye with a last and successful attempt at ruffling and messing up his hair once more. But despite taking a step towards a clearer direction, Yuuji still leaves the faculty room feeling like an invisible weight is dragging down his feet with every step he takes. 

When he comes across Geto coming into the building just as he was going out, Yuuji bows down hastily. An almost unintelligible explanation that he has left everything he told him to bring on his desk already past his lips. As his professor looks at him with a worried furrow on his brow, Yuuji almost trips on his way down as he remembers Gojo’s words mere moments before he left: “We’re here for you, buddy. Okay? Sorry if I don’t always get to say that, but somebody made me know how important that is…. And oh! Don’t forget not to eat too much before the ceremony on Tuesday, Yuuji! Let’s try a whole lot of different restaurants!”

Yuuji leaves the building with his chest constricting.

Can he still have what he’s already broken?

—

It’s on a quiet morning when Yuuji sees Megumi again. 

The sound of the door opening stops Yuuji in his listless back and forth, the hallway outside the apartment they once shared hushed like the breath he’s keeping. When his gaze lands on him, the first thing that Yuuji notices is his dark hair still messy from sleep. 

It takes Megumi a while to re-orient himself, hand rubbing on puffy eyes. The sun hasn’t fully risen yet, and the world holds everything it has ever loved close. Dawn is unhurried and all it takes is one look.

One look and the sleepless nights leading up to this moment falls off Yuuji’s shoulders. 

With still no hint of the sun around them, and with the air cold, Yuuji and Megumi find themselves at a standstill, staring at each other. 

Suddenly, it doesn’t matter as much how heavy his feet felt as the days dragged on since his last talk with Gojo; or the nights when Yuuji was barely able to sleep, tossing and turning every once in a while, his heart desperate to beat out of his chest. It doesn’t matter as heavily when his brief instances of insomnia from his freshman year returned like it wanted to make sure it’s all he’ll ever know and remember: nights staring at walls miles away from what he considers his home.

Yuuji inhales a lungful of air. Megumi continues staring at him from the doorway, hand still on the knob, fingers clenched tightly as if he’ll fall to his knees if he lets go. 

He’s looking at him like he’s seen a ghost in the hallway outside their apartment. And maybe he’s not far from the truth because in this almost blue light, everything feels laden in dreams. Like they’re on a film somehow, and this is just a still shot of a moment when the protagonist’s life changes forever. But despite the quality of disbelief the moment brings, here, Yuuji feels real. 

If he made his way to their once-shared apartment a few hours before their graduation ceremony starts, Yuuji doesn’t take it upon himself to overthink any of the decisions he’s had that led him here. He keeps his feet planted on the ground despite his thundering heart. Megumi is staring so intently at him and he wants to do something. Like maybe close the distance between them, run his fingers through his dark hair, or climb to the rooftop and shout the pressure that built a home in his chest out. He feels energy coursing through his bones, urging him to do something, anything.

Yuuji restrains himself though, opening his mouth only to close it again. He takes a deep inhale in hopes that his tongue will stop embarrassing him because Megumi looks so pretty, and just letting himself stare at him after what feels like years is pretty much squeezing the air out of his lungs. 

It’s Megumi who manages to speak first. 

“Yu—Itadori, what are you doing here?” 

Yuuji feels his body react to his voice. He hasn’t had the chance to do what he went here to in the first place, but he already feels the hair on the back of his neck tingle, so sensitive as if any movement or sound from Megumi will be the end and beginning of him. 

He swallows. “Hi, I…I was hoping we could talk?” Yuuji doesn’t know why it came out like a question, like he hadn't imagined this morning for so many nights. He wanted to talk to him. Dying to, as a matter of fact.

“Okay,” Megumi says, kind of breathless. He keeps staring at Yuuji as if he still can’t believe this conversation is happening. “Okay,” he repeats. The wind blows softly around them, and Yuuji slightly shivers in his jacket. Eyes peeking out from the collar of his coat, he can’t help but continue staring at Megumi’s lashes. 

God, save him.

Megumi steps aside and opens the door wider. But when Yuuji still doesn’t make a move, he asks, “Don’t you want to get inside?”

“Oh, I was hoping we could talk outside, actually.”

He sees Megumi slightly deflate at that, his gaze flickering to the ground. But before Yuuji can reassure him that not wanting to enter their apartment doesn’t mean another form of rejection in any way, Megumi is already closing the door.

“Okay, let me just get my jacket,” is all he hears before he’s left in the silence again. 

Yuuji tries not to scream at himself, but not even a minute passes before the door opens again. He tries to stabilize the pounding in his chest.

Megumi makes his way to the stairs and sits, making sure Yuuji has enough space to sit beside him without their knees brushing against each other. The rooftop is just a few flights of stairs and a door above them, and if it wasn’t as cold, maybe Yuuji would have insisted that they talk there. But he takes his seat beside Megumi.

And maybe it’s life’s small graces because sitting here on the staircase brings Yuuji a level of comfort that is only possible because he has once sat here from time to time. On days when he forgot his keys and would wait for Megumi to pick up his call, being welcomed to their apartment with a kiss and a low hum of okaeri.

Yuuji takes a glance at the boy beside him, not being able to ignore how close and far he both seem. He wants to know how he’s been but how does he start? How do you ask the person who once welcomed you home with such warmth how they’ve been doing in life? Like strangers. Like lovers who drifted apart. 

But seeing Megumi and the way he looks just manages to constrict Yuuji’s throat further. Because the air between them is cold, but Megumi is warm beside him, scarf brushing his cheek and hands tucked in his black jacket. And not for the first time, Megumi reminds him of a black cat. A remembrance of how their conversation once went:

Babe, I edited a picture of you side by side with the cat always hanging out in our department and guess what?

Megumi turned to him then, an annoyed, knowing look already on his face. What? 

You two look so much alike!! There’s no difference at all, he said, bringing out his phone for photographic evidence. See here? Both grumpy. Cute. 

I do not look like him at all. 

Yes, you do. Even Nobara said so.

You say that with every black cat you see. 

But it’s true!

Don’t care.

Wait….why am I sensing a sinister aura coming from you just now?

Must be coming from that cat.

Babe….don’t tell me….are you jealous of him?

Why would I be jealous of a cat?

Oh my god. Is it because he’s my lock screen right now?

Dunno.

That’s totally it! Gumiiii. Why are you so adorable?

You changed the picture of us with that cat.

I told you, he reminds me of you. And Yuuji, because he was so utterly gone and in love and every good thing in the world that turns people into a giddy mess, was not able to keep the laughter from spilling pass his lips, because Megumi looked so disgruntled, effectively making him look more and more like the grumpy cat always hanging out in their classroom hallways.

Yuuji remembers teasing him more and the whole day was spent crooning sorrys on the ear of a petulant Megumi who refuses to look him in the eye, kissing him on his neck every time the opportunity shows itself; smiling boyishly at how Megumi’s cheeks and ears turn pink.

But the confused furrow on Megumi’s brow right now serves as a reminder that no, they aren’t together. Not anymore. He can no longer tease him like he used to, no longer in the position to ask for forgiveness through kisses and sorrys whispered softly to his ear. And Yuuji has no one to blame but himself.

And so, like the person no longer privy to Megumi’s daily life, he asks, “How have you been these days, Fushiguro?”

“Good. Been busy with clearances the past few weeks. Just the same as you, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah, it sucks. Wish we could just graduate without all that stuff, you know.”

Megumi hums, nodding a little. “How about you? I hope you’ve been well, Itadori.”

“I’ve been….fine. Been all over the place trying to decide what I wanted to do after uni,” he says. “Did you sign up for that writing workshop you mentioned before?”

Megumi’s eyes light up a little. “Yes. Figured there was no harm in trying. It might be for the better if I leave Tokyo anyways,” Yuuji feels his chest constrict, but Megumi continues. “It might be great for writing inspiration. You know, being in a different place.”

“I’m glad for you, Fushiguro. Really. I know you’ll enjoy it a lot.”

A silence settles between them. It’s Megumi once more who breaks it.

“Gojo told me he invited you for dinner. But don’t worry, if you’re here to tell me you won’t be able to go, I understand. You don’t have to feel too bad about it.”

“No, that’s not what I’m here for,” Yuuji says hastily. “I know it’s too late now, but I’ve thought of what I’d tell you once I see you again and I just can’t start without saying it first, you know?” He takes a deep inhale. 

For a while, neither of them speaks; Megumi waiting for Yuuji, Yuuji waiting for the morning mist to swallow him whole.

He doesn’t know whether it will even make sense for Megumi. He can’t even believe he’s sitting here with him, willing to wait for what he has to say.

Yuuji gathers the little bit of courage left in his bones.

“I’m sorry, Fushiguro. For everything.”

He says it while looking deeply into Megumi’s eyes. Yuuji has to let him know in any way he can; needs him to know he means everything he says. It feels as if they’re on a different plane of existence now, with how everything narrows down to only Megumi and his words and the distance between them. 

Megumi can only stare back.

“I know it’s unfair of me to say this to you now… but would it be alright if I bother you for a bit with this conversation? Please tell me if all of this talk makes you uncomfortable or anything,” he says, sounding like a nervous wreck even to his own ears. “God, I didn’t think this through, huh? I’m sorry, but yeah, I get it if you don’t want to listen to your ex talk about your past relationship anymore because hey, it’s in the past right? And maybe you’ve already moved on and I’m the only one here overt—”

“Yuuji,” Megumi exhales. “Please,” he whispers, earnest but almost pained. “Of course, I’d listen to you.” 

Yuuji swallows and finally looks away. His eyes trained between his shoes. “I regret everything after but never before, you know?” He hears Megumi’s sharp intake of breath.

“I regret not telling you how much my chest hurts every day like life’s being sucked out of me little by little as the days go by. I regret not letting you go with me to my visits to my grandfather because if you were there, I could have cried on your shoulders instead of sucking it all in.” Yuuji clasps his hands tighter. “I regret keeping my tryouts from you because I didn’t know what to do with myself and what to do with all the love you had for me because I was sure you’d change your plans and leave everything for me in a heartbeat,” he continues, smiling wistfully. He had everything then. He truly did. And there’s something about laying it out in the open that makes him unable to stop talking once he starts.

“I regret holding your hand but not having the words to say the things that still haunt me to this day. I regret avoiding my problems and trying to make up for them by giving myself the illusion that I had my shit together when I clearly did not. But most of all,” Yuuji pauses, looking at him. “I regret breaking your heart, Fushiguro.” 

The world stills around them, and Itadori Yuuji tries his hardest to be courageous in the face of all his emotions even if it’s already too late. He sees Megumi’s lashes flutter, biting his lip as if not trusting himself to speak just yet. “I regret a lot of things but never befriending and loving you. Never that,” he says. “Looking back, I was...afraid that something would happen to you. To us.”

Megumi shivers and huddles his knees closer to his chest, from the cold or from his words, Yuuji isn’t sure anymore.

“I know,” Megumi says, voice soft. “And I didn’t mind that you were afraid, Itadori. All I wanted was to be there for you. To hurt for you as long as you’d let me.”

“But that’s also what I didn’t want, Megumi….” his first name slips from his tongue. The first inch of surrender Yuuji gives to the yearning caged in his bones. “I didn’t want to be the reason why you’re hurting. I can’t burden you like that, but maybe that was where I was wrong,” he looks away.

“Maybe a huge part of loving someone also means letting them see the pain. But no matter what I did, I just can’t get rid of this feeling, you know?” he says, shaking his shoulders, as if willing himself to shake off the things that keep him awake at night. 

“Because five years ago, I had a grandfather who treated me like his own child. Four years ago, I had a friend who talked my ears off about films. Two summers before, I had a professor who became more like a mentor to me, somebody who genuinely wanted me to be happy despite everything,” Yuuji continues, running his hand through his hair. “Can you see now, Megumi? Every night before I went to sleep I asked myself how long was I allowed to wake up next to you. Every day I wondered whether the universe has already taken enough from me because if it did, then maybe, just maybe, it would let me keep you.”

“I know nobody had an answer to that. Nobody does. And that’s what drives me insane—the not knowing . I no longer saw you in my future because somehow, I was sure the world wouldn’t let you stay too long beside me,” Yuuji continues, almost whispering. “It’s taken everyone from me after all.”

This time, Megumi's the one who looks away. Burned.

Outside of their enclosed nook, the wind howls. 

“That’s why it’s so unfair of me to put you through that, Megumi. Not just in that state of fear in my head, but especially for inevitably hurting you with the choices I made because of that fear.”

Megumi doesn’t speak for a while, but when he does, his voice comes out hoarse. “That’s the thing, Itadori,” A beat of silence. “Is it so bad that I was also afraid but somehow, I just couldn’t bring myself to care about that fear? That I didn’t care what the universe wanted? Because all my life, all I’ve known is how unfair the world is,” Megumi says, a deep sadness welling in his eyes. “But is it crazy when I tell you that instead of restricting me, the world’s unfairness just made it easier for me to choose the things I want to hold on to?” 

“Nothing is permanent, everything changes, and in some way, you were right before, Itadori. We would have changed along with it. But you know what? I still would have chosen a future with you in it in a heartbeat. No matter how scared and uncertain you and I might have been.”

“And I knew it then, how you felt. I would have known because that’s how I also felt towards you and what we had,” Megumi says, voice shaky yet firm. “That constant fear of being separated sometime in the future. But even outside of that, I knew that you were still grieving. I could feel it somehow, and out of everything that happened, I never want you to feel as if you have to apologize for that as well. Because this fear we both have, I think it mainly comes from how much we’ve already lost, Itadori. And we obviously should have worked on it before, but who could ever fault us? Who could ever fault you? You were just hurting.”

Megumi looks at him intently, his words prickling Yuuji’s skin and making his eyes water. Even now, he’s still the kindest boy he has ever met.

“That’s why I can’t bring myself to resent you after we broke up. Not even a little bit. At the end of the day, I just want you to be safe and happy, Itadori. I want you to heal, even if that means not being in your life, as much as it pained me.”

“I know, Gumi,” he says, voice wavering. “And after everything, I just want to let you know how much it hurt me, not being able to bring myself out of that place and hurting you in the process. It frustrates me how I just can’t forget, you see? And you know what’s even more fucked up? I felt far from being okay after we broke up. Does it even make sense? I was the one who pushed you away and I felt so shitty afterwards like I just made everything even worse for myself.”

“Itadori…” Megumi’s hand inches towards his knee and then stops, like he’s caught himself doing an act he should’ve long forgotten. Yuuji doesn’t expect him to, but it only takes a few seconds of silence before Yuuji feels a warm hand gently squeezing his knee.

There, and then gone just as easily. 

“It’s frustrating, but just know you don’t have to hurry yourself. And please don’t….” Megumi pauses, determination evident in the set of his brows. “Never apologize for not knowing what to do with your grief. That was never your fault.”

“I just wish it didn’t come with hurting you, that’s all,” Yuuji says, defeated.

Megumi looks at him for a second. “I was the one who loved you, Itadori. I don’t think you could have done anything else on your part regarding that. I’d hurt for you even if you didn’t want me to.”

Loved. It doesn’t slip Yuuji’s mind that it’s a thing of the past. Megumi loved him. Before. Will he ever have even an ounce of that left for him now?

“Besides, I was never hurt because you were grieving. I was hurt because I wanted to lessen that pain and I knew I could only do so much.”

Before Yuuji could even reply, there were traces of droplets between his feet. He doesn’t even realize the warmth traveling down his cheeks. My chest and everything hurts, the thought enters his mind belatedly. He tries to keep it in, because how could he be the one to seek out Megumi in the crack ass of dawn only to be the one who ends up crying at his ex-boyfriend’s staircase? But once it starts, Yuuji can’t hold it back and before he can even wrap his head around what's happening, there’s a warm hand rubbing up and down his back, Megumi whispering, It’s okay, Itadori. I’m here. You can let it out.

But are you still? Yuuji wants to ask. Even after this morning—after this moment of vulnerability? 

When it comes to Megumi, Yuuji discovers his selfishness knows no bounds.

Sobs and hiccups wrack his body, and Megumi croons gentle, gentle words to the shell of his ear. Sharing in his hurt and holding him tightly, Yuuji feels the pain mold itself into something warm and more forgiving in Megumi’s arms. He feels as if his heart is breaking and mending itself again and again. A gift he knows now that only vulnerability can give him.

For a moment, neither of them speaks. Yuuji sniffles for the last time and gently untangles himself from the cocoon of warmth their bodies made.

“Oh god, I’m sorry, Megumi. It seems like I woke you up just to cry to you or something,” he hiccups, trying to laugh it off.

“It’s okay, I’m just glad you’re here. I don’t know how you’ve been trying to heal these past few months, Itadori. But I’m thankful you were able to share that with me. Small steps, right?” For the first time, Megumi shows him the smallest hint of a smile. 

If Yuuji already felt his chest burn like a cozy furnace from the embrace they found each other in earlier, now, he feels like there’s warm honey trickling down his chest until it envelops him whole. He still doesn’t quite know how to articulate the question stuck to his throat, the one he’s been dying to ask since he saw him open the door. 

But since he is in love, and has never stopped loving, he tells him a part of his life anyways: “I haven’t told anyone else yet and you were the first person I wanted to share the news with, but….” Yuuji says, slowly. “I’ve decided to turn down the club offers for me.”

Megumi turns his head at him with a surprised look on his face. “Oh? Did something happen?”

“Nothing, really. To be honest, I just realized it isn’t what I’d rather be doing,” Yuuji smiles shakily. “I applied as an assistant trainer for seniors here in Tokyo. I’d probably need to have additional training and seminars in the long run, but I think this is the path I’d feel more connected with myself…especially with how I wanted to help Grandpa while he was still alive.” This time, when Yuuji smiles, it feels more steady. More confident.

“Is that so?” Megumi says, his choked-up voice making Yuuji’s shoulder tense. Did he say something wrong? Would he rather not hear about this part of his life anymore? Did Yuuji finally cross a line? Countless questions pop into his mind, but when he finally looks up, Yuuji is met with a scene that will brand itself into his brain like the days of his childhood. Because before him, with tears running down his face, Megumi says, “I’m proud of you, Itadori. I really, really am.” 

Yuuji’s mouth gapes and closes. It isn’t the first time that Yuuji has seen him cry, but there’s something about seeing Megumi who's soft-spoken yet firm, loving yet also drenched in quiet solitude from time to time that makes Yuuji’s knees feel weaker at the sight of him crying. 

For a while, Megumi’s tears continue to silently make its way down his face. Slowly bringing his hand to his cheeks, he wipes it away in wonder as if seeing them shocks him as much as it does Yuuji. 

“Meg—”

“Ah, shit. I’m sorry, Yuuji. I’m just so happy for you. You’ve come a long way,” Megumi offers a wet smile his way. “At least you aren’t the only one who cried this morning, right?” he says, eyes crinkling, a hint of shakiness present in his voice.

His heart clenches at the sight. Megumi is crying for him and Yuuji feels like they’re the only people awake on Earth. This moment is his, Megumi’s, theirs forever, no matter what happens. As much as it softens him to the core, seeing Megumi happy to the point of tears for him gives Yuuji a surge of courage he never knew is still possible. 

“Megumi….” he starts, voice almost in a daze; searching his green eyes for a sign, anything, despite everything. “I know I don't even deserve to ask this but I just really need to know because if there’s anything I've learned from what happened—from hurting both of us because of everything—it’s that I should never let the important things go unsaid,” he says, words tumbling over each other. 

“Do you…do you think—” Yuuji inhales shakily, “Is there still a chance that you might still want to be with me? Even for a bit?” He finishes, standing up from his seat. Overcome with the sudden urge to touch Megumi’s skin, Yuuji threads his fingers through his hair instead. “I’d understand if you don’t want to anymore. Or if you already have somebody, I’d get it, especially after everyth—”

Megumi’s lips wobble, staring at Yuuji from his seat. After a moment, he finally stands and walks closer. And for the second time that morning, he cuts him off. 

“Yuuji, how could there be anyone else? It’s still you,” he says, defiant, reaching out for his hand. Seemingly offended at even the thought that Yuuji could even think otherwise. His hands hold him gently. “Can’t you see? It’s six am on the morning of our graduation and we’re both freezing in this hallway and we still got a long way to go in everything else but it will always be you.”

Yuuji’s mouth gapes, his body strung along to Megumi’s every pause and flicker of emotion. The other boy’s words, salvation, salvation. His hands, the center of gravity. Looking at how Megumi’s conviction also makes his eyes appear as soft as a gentle morning, Yuuji feels his heart give in.

“I—” The last thing Yuuji registers before Megumi closes the distance is how the sun has finally risen. The warmth of its rays hitting their faces as Megumi kisses him slowly, savoring the feel of his lips on his like the space between them holds everything sacred. Megumi’s hand moving from his hair to his cheeks, to the slope of his neck, gently cradling his jaw—Yuuji feeling so, so loved he wonders if this is what it feels like to be reborn. 

Enveloped in Megumi’s arms, Yuuji no longer knew how long they stood there until Megumi pauses, slowly opening his eyes. They share the same breath, both of their cheeks streaked with tears, looking at each other in wonder. 

“Megumi,” he exhales, his body feeling lighter than it has in ages. “Thank you.”

Megumi looks at him and stares. Green eyes taking all of him in. “For what? I should be the one thanking you. You came back,” he finishes, voice filled with awe like he’s talking about the most precious thing in the world, like it’s Yuuji whose name means blessings and not him.

“No, let me have this,” Yuuji insists. “Thank you for waiting for me.”

Megumi thumbs through the tears going down Yuuji’s cheeks. “You should’ve known I’d never give up on you since the day I gave you my vows, idiot.”

He looks down. “I never want to be the cause of your pain again. Never.”

“Then just stay with me, alright?”

Yuuji silently nods, tears gathering in his eyes again. Megumi’s hand gently rubbing up and down his back. Around them, the sun bathes everything golden. 

The corner of his eye catches something. “Megumi….there’s actually something else.”

“What? Is there something wrong?”

“No, no. Everything’s perfect. This moment is so perfect I’m afraid I’m gonna wake up and realize it’s just a dream.”

Megumi kisses him tenderly, gently nibbling on his lower lip before letting go. “Does this feel like a dream?”

Yuuji feels his cheeks getting warmer than it already is, eyes closing despite himself. “Only because I’ve dreamed of kissing you for months now.”

Megumi sinks further into his arms, taking a deep inhale between the crook of his shoulder and neck like he wishes he could melt into him.

“But wait, stop distracting me before I forget again. I brought you something.” Yuuji slowly untangles himself from the other boy, fighting his own hesitance to let go. He picks up what he left leaning earlier in the space between the wall and an old painting left in the hallways. 

Megumi looks at Yuuji’s hands in wonder, the warmth rising in his cheeks noticeable. “Flowers?”

“Yeah,” Yuuji grins, hand scratching the back of his head. “I went here not knowing how this would go but I wanted to give it to you no matter what. Can’t shake off the habit, I guess,” he says, smiling hopelessly. 

“So you came here wanting to woo me, after all, huh?” The corners of Megumi’s lips lift, making him look more boyish than he already is. Yuuji’s heart stammers.

“Actually, you’re right,” he replies, biting his lip. “But if you hate it…”

Megumi quickly pecks him on the cheek before he can even finish. “Shut up, you know I love it.”

For the first time in a long while, Yuuji laughs and feels it vibrate throughout his whole body. He wraps his hands around Megumi’s neck and pulls him closer, slowly kissing him. Every line of his body screaming he’s home. Around them, the world finally wakes up.

—

Yuu.Itadori watched

Before Sunrise 1995

★★★★★  ❤

Watched October 22, 2022

I know it’s way more cool to write a one-liner review these days but fuck it, I’m in love. So here goes.

Let me start by saying: this film made me think a lot. 

Well, this shouldn’t be that groundbreaking right? There are movies that are not just cinematic and gorgeous but also thought-provoking; movies that make you pause and wonder about the thought process going on inside the director’s head while filming because holy shit, this movie is awesome.  

And watching this film just made me think like that the whole time.

There wasn’t a moment when I felt removed from what was happening on screen. I felt like I was part of Jesse and Celine’s conversations as they walked the streets of Vienna. For more than an hour, I was going over my own head trying to dissect and take it all in. 

But my friends would probably be shocked when (and if) they ever read this, because, well, I’m not really the kind of guy who ponders himself to the ground. Never really one to catch myself delving too deeply so as to submerge myself in the plot like a self-insert enthusiast who makes everything revolve around me. 

Or so I used to think.

Shockingly though, it isn’t the whole film’s worth of discussion that the main characters take us through that made me think deeply about this film (although it sure is engaging). It’s not even the looming question of whether or not Jesse and Celine would end up together and ditch all their responsibilities to just live in a place they randomly pick up from the train they met. Though beautiful as they are, it’s not those moments that gripped me, but it’s actually the scenes at the very start that did. Right before the two protagonists meet each other. The scenes even before Celine switches seats and catches the attention of Jesse who’s also alone in the compartment right next to hers. 

It’s the arguing couple near Celine at the beginning. The silence of looking outside from a train bound to your home. The steps Celine takes towards the compartment near Jesse’s. 

I don’t know why, maybe it’s because of how fickle and random life is, but it made me wonder: if that was me taking a train ride across Europe, would all of these things lead to one thing and the other? When suddenly, in a montage-like sequence of events, I have also made my way to an empty seat, would I have found the love of my life in the form of a then-stranger on the other side? In an alternate universe where my boyfriend and I somehow both traveled or lived in Europe, would the universe conspire to bring us together magically like that?

Or would I somehow be Jesse in this scene? The one who’s lost, figuratively, until somebody takes the seat opposite mine? Would we ever get the chance to talk to each other? Will we also manage to get through that first layer of hesitance and shared looks before the other one looks away, until finally, someone puts all their awkwardness in the side lines and says the first thing like Jesse did for Celine?

But you know what’s crazy? It doesn’t even take me long to answer my own questions because I love how confident I am that we will. Loved how easy it was to know that we could’ve met on a train bound to Vienna like Jesse and Celine were and we still would have fallen in love like they did. 

I used to measure good films by how it transports me to a world built within the confines of a screen. This is the story, here are the protagonists who you’d root for, these are the limitations and bounds of the world they’re living in. And even if it wasn’t particularly a film showing the absurd and the fantastical, but just your simple modern-day romance, I’ve always viewed good films as those that made me see the characters for who they are and the realities they live in for what it is. Something with clear and finite boundaries that not only separates me from them but also makes me omniscient in a way. Those that make me feel: I’m engaged with what’s happening and will definitely cry a tear or two if something bad were to happen, but at the end of the day, this doesn’t really affect me in any way. Films that take me out of my head, untouchable by the horrors of plot progression and conflict—films that make me forget. 

But this movie? Oh god. I see Jesse and Celine for who they are and how wonderfully they’re played. But I can’t help but always pause and wonder how every shared look and conversation they have is something that I’d also be having with a parallel me somewhere out there in an alternate universe. 

It might be crazy, but I saw myself and my boyfriend in that film like we were the ones going through each shot. Not even as its actors, but as the characters lost in their world themselves. It just came easily: the feeling that I was Jesse or Celine or both of them at once. For a moment, I wanted to be them and for a moment, I was.

And somehow, it wasn’t hard to slip into this alternate reality as if I was the one living in it. Because even in a reality where we didn’t meet in a dorm orientation with me singing late into the karaoke and him secretly and silently bobbing his head along to the song at the side, we still would have crossed paths in a train somewhere in Europe. 

I can easily see it because I know us. He would be carrying a book in one hand and his luggage in the other. As he takes his seat, he’d notice me on the other side, trying not to stare at him because it’s rude and I’m trying not to be a creep. But right off the bat upon seeing him, the first thing I’d think of is: oh god, I think I just saw the most beautiful person on earth on a random Tuesday afternoon.  

And because I know now how boundless love can make one feel, I'm sure that I would have taken the first leap then. It doesn’t even make me wonder for so long. I know I would have talked to him one way or the other. Because here’s the thing: he’s the love of my life and I just can’t imagine a world where we don’t meet and talk and fall in love in less than a day. If not on that train, I still would have unknowingly made my way to him at a random bus stop in France. If not in France, his dark hair and sneakers would have caught my eye as I’m walking my way past a record store in the heart of Shibuya. 

But right now, the love of my life isn’t somewhere in Europe or in a busy street in Tokyo; he’s already here, sleeping beside me. And don’t you just love it when a film opens up the possibilities of your life? When it takes you along cobbled stones in a strange city? To a conversation your other selves might have been having in a different place, at a different time? 

When somehow, always, in all these visions, it’s still with the person you find on the other side of your bed?