Chapter Text
slips away
‘relax your grip, release your hold.
you can’t predict what might unfold.
let go your clutch, unclasp your hand.
that’s much too much,
to understand.’
“Yuuji, I find it hard to believe that your cancer came back stage four and that ‘nothing’s gotten worse, you’re all good to go!’ is all Dr. Ieiri had to say about it.”
Choso’s voice comes from Yuuji’s cellphone speaker with that all-too-familiar admonishing tone to it. He sounds tired, but there’s no hospital sounds in the background, which Yuuji is thankful for. He’s had enough of hearing them, feeling haunted by them in his sleep when his room is far too quiet in the dead of another restless night.
“Well, in more words, but yeah, that was basically it!” Yuuji’s voice is, per his ever present state, far too chipper, and he hopes that Choso doesn’t question the validity of it. “I have a UTI because my kidneys aren’t doing too hot, but otherwise it doesn’t seem to be getting any worse.” He keeps his voice steady, focusing on the laundry he’s folding on his bed, his phone sitting on his thigh with an extremely unflattering photo of his older brother as Choso’s contact on the screen.
“You realize I’m literally studying oncology, right?” Choso asks flatly, and Yuuji’s glad he’s not there to see him wince at the reminder. He knew why Choso chose oncology, but from the very beginning, he wished he hadn’t. It was too bitter a reminder, in his opinion.
“Yes,” Yuuji starts, attempting to sound convincing, pausing slightly when he picks up one of his long sleeves, noticing the faint stains of blood splatter on the cuffs. He must’ve coughed into them at some point. He grimaces, tossing the garment across the room near-ish to his trash bin. “And so even you know that growth times can vary, even late stage.” He says matter of factly, and almost believes himself.
“Your cancer’s always been aggressive, just like mom’s. It doesn’t make sense.” Choso says, and he sounds like he’s thinking too much, too hard, and Yuuji scrambles.
“Only the first time,” Yuuji quickly corrects, glossing over the mention of their mother. “When I first came out of remission, it was much slower, remember?” Which actually is true. “Makes sense that, since it came back a second time, that it’d be even slower. Right?” And he wishes that that were true.
Choso’s quiet for a moment, the younger brother calling his name before he finally speaks up. “If you say so, Yuu,” he sighs in slight irritation, and Yuuji can practically hear him rubbing his temples in frustration before the second sigh comes as a sound of relief. “That’s good, at least. So, that mean you’re clear to keep playing for the season?”
“Yep!” Yuuji chimes happily, careful not to let his own relief at Choso believing him show through. “Got the doc’s blessing and everything!”
“Alright then, just take it easy, okay?” Choso requests, Yuuji picking up the phone and taking it off speaker, bringing it to his ear.
“‘Course! Always do.” Yuuji replies happily.
“Uh-huh…” Choso sounds less inclined to believe that part, but doesn’t say much else on it. “I gotta go, but text me if you hear anything else or if you need anything, okay?”
“Yes, Nurse Choso.” Yuuji teases, and earns himself a playfully irritated goodbye before the line is disconnected with short ‘Love you’s.
Picking up his phone, Yuuji runs a hand through his hair, feeling the dampness and warmth of his forehead, before swiping it back through his short locks, letting out a shaky sigh as he stares at the screen until it goes black. He shakes his head, tossing it aside before looking at his laundry, now entirely folded and stacked neatly at the edge of the mattress. He makes short work of putting the articles of clothing away before flopping back down on his bed, craning his head to glance at the alarm clock on his nightstand.
‘4:18 PM’
He sighs. It’s too early for dinner, and the post-movie-ice-cream he had with Fushiguro earlier hadn’t lasted long in his stomach either, even if the cold and smooth texture had soothed his scratchy throat momentarily. He turns over on his side, pulling his phone probably too close to his face as he pulls up the boy’s message thread, staring at the last string of messages the two had shared.
FushiGumi (ーー;) (Megumi)
Received [ 3:29 PM ]
But if the whole thing was a psychotic break, then what about the dog??
Yuuji huffed a small breath of a laugh at rereading the message, finding it cute that Fushiguro’s first concern had been about the family pet’s wellbeing in the horror film, smiling to himself.
Sent [ 3:29 PM ]
bro SHE did it !! she went insane, schizo or smthn
Received [ 3:30 PM ]
I don’t think that’s how schizophrenia ‘or something’ works.
… So the dog for real died like that?
And for some reason, Yuuji still found himself laughing at the idea of Fushiguro saying ‘for real’ outloud.
Sent [ 3:30 PM ]
yeah dude :( sucks when it happens
but its like
unfortunately a horror movie staple
if there’s a dog, it’s probablyyyy gunna die
Received [ 3:32 PM ]
I take it back. I didn’t like the movie.
you can’t just take it back !! the movie was awesome, you know it!!
Yes, I can. It sucked.
you’re just saying that because the dog beefed it >:(
Two things can be true.
whatever mannnn
here’s a neat article i found on someone psychoanalyzing the movie
[ Link Attached ]
I don’t think you’re using the term ‘psychoanalyzing’ correctly here.
Careful not to hurt what’s left of that tiny brain of yours, meat-head.
dude shut up </3
just read it lmao
[ Read ✓ 3:35 PM ]
Yuuji guesses that either Fushiguro read the article or was still reading it, though he doubted it’d take nearly a half-hour for the guy to finish it. His thumbs hover over his keyboard, wanting to send something else, but thought better of it, deciding to leave the guy alone. He’d had a long day himself, he doubted it was any better for his dark-haired peer. He couldn’t imagine what it was like going to court, and for whatever it was, it looked like it took a lot out of the guy.
Sighing, he rolled onto his back, phone falling out of his limp hold, staring up at the ceiling. He didn’t really have any plans for the evening, and should probably be reaching out to one of his classmates for notes on whatever he missed in his classes, but he didn’t exactly feel like hounding anybody. He was sure he could catch up on whatever classwork he skipped out on.
It was too early for dinner, and he didn’t exactly feel like eating. He was hungry, very much so actually, but the thought of trying to keep down anything nauseated him, a visible grimace appearing on his face as he turned to his other side, curling inwardly with a quiet groan. He didn’t want to go downstairs either. He was sure Sukuna was back by now and didn’t feel like getting grilled by his twin.
So, he decided a nap was his next best option. He was tired enough. But, admittedly, he was always tired nowadays. He lets out a heavy breath, curling up on top of his covers and pulling his pillow close against him and burying his face into it, feeling the warm breath of his sigh billow out through the fabric. A nap definitely couldn’t hurt, the weariness in his bones beginning to give the slightest reprieve as he relaxed into the mattress.
***
Megumi absentmindedly chewed a piece of sauteed broccoli as he scrolled through the thematic analysis of the horror film he’d seen with Yuuji earlier in the day. He hadn’t gotten a chance to read it earlier when the frat-boy had initially sent it to him, being pulled away by his fathers to help with the dinner they now sat around the table eating.
“Megumi, you know it’s rude to be on your phone at the table.” Geto spoke up, green eyes glancing up to meet dark, almost-black-purple. Megumi swallowed the lump of broccoli in his mouth, nodding as he set the device down.
“Sorry.” He muttered, straightening in his seat as his gaze flitted over to Gojo, immediately returning the man’s shit-eating grin with a frown. “What?” He grumbled, stabbing into another piece of broccoli with his fork.
“Mm, nothing,” Gojo purred out, letting out a dreamy sigh. “It’s just annoyingly cute how you always listen to Suguru but never me.” He complained, his tone reflecting the pout on his features.
“It’s because Geto’s actually scary!” Nanako’s voice came from the tablet set up at the opposite end of the table from Megumi, glancing up at the screen. His adopted sisters, or technically, step-sisters, sat on the other side of it, eating their own dinner, having made the same thing as the three men, cooking in tandem with Geto and Megumi– while Gojo watched safely from the sidelines –when they all first got on the call together. Both of them still wore their hair in tight ballerina buns, slicked back and shiny, but had since lost the dancewear and opted for sweats.
“‘Scary?’” Geto echoed back with a chuckle, giving the girls a small, questioning grin.
Mimiko nodded emphatically. “Yeah, like, total mama bear scary.”
“So does that make me ‘papa bear?’” Gojo asked, leaning to be more in frame of the girls’ view.
The twins only rolled their eyes. “We’re never calling you that.”
Geto politely covered his mouth while trying to stifle his laughter.
“Oh, boo,” Gojo pouted, giving another pout. This time, Megumi rolled his eyes. And then, Gojo had to open his mouth again.
“You know, girls,” he started coyly, tilting his head as he gestured to their youngest. “Megumi skipped class after court today and went on a date to the movies with a boy in his class.” He said, his grin curling proudly as the two girls gasped in unison, suddenly crowding their tablets camera.
“Wait, what?! Really?” “No fucking way!”
From the way Suguru rubbed his temples, he probably blamed Satoru for their children’s swearing habits.
Megumi immediately felt his face flush hot with embarrassment, snapping his attention to the white haired man. “Where did you hear that?!” He asked, far too quickly.
“Little birdy told me,” Gojo shrugged with a happy smirk, leaning back in his chair, which only meant one thing.
Megumi was going to kill Nobara the next time he saw her, which meant she had T-minus two hours to live.
He opened his mouth to speak, only to be cut off but his sisters’ incessant yammering coming from the tablet.
“C’mon, Meg, who was it?” “Is he cute?” “What’s his name?” “Send me a picture of him!”
Suguru could barely get out a “Now, girls–” before Megumi snapped.
“It wasn’t a date!” He said, and cursed the way his voice cracked when he said it. Gojo failed to stifle the snort of laughter that escaped him in response, earning a murderous glare from the young man. “His name is Itadori. He’s in my art class. He gave me a ride to the courthouse and back. We skipped class because the hearing and his doctor’s appointment took too long. We saw a movie. That’s it.” He explained flatly, giving the twins an unimpressed look as he made it a pointed effort to not look at Gojo, who was busy snickering.
“What, did you rehearse it?” And surprisingly, the comment came from Suguru, who immediately dropped the amused smirk on his face to give Megumi a surrendering wave. “Sorry, sorry.” He said, though Megumi could tell that he wasn’t. Suguru was just as conniving as Satoru, enjoying getting into their children’s drama a little too much. Suguru was just better at hiding it.
“Sure sounds like a date,” Mimiko commented, Nanako nodding beside her, unable to respond while she chewed her food.
“It wasn’t a date.” Megumi replied flatly, glaring at his food as he stabbed at another piece of broccoli, like the vegetable had done something to offend him, too. “We just happened to be going the same direction.”
“You didn’t say if he was cute or not!” Nanako finally replied, sounding like she nearly choked on her food to get the statement out.
“You know, she’s right.” Gojo said, folding his hands and tilting his head on them as he met Megumi’s gaze with a mischievous grin. “Well, is he?”
And for some reason, Megumi found himself hesitating to say ‘no.’ He opened his mouth, but paused when nothing came. Frowning, he looked away again. “He’s alright.” He answered after a moment, not enjoying the way the skin of his ears and neck still felt hot. “For a frat guy.” He added with irritation.
“A frat guy?!” Nanako nearly screeched it out, Mimiko shaking her head.
“You have got to stay away from frat dudes, Meg. They’re soo bad news.”
“Itadori isn’t like that. None of his frat is, I’ve met them.” Megumi argued, though he wasn’t sure why he was bothering to defend the boy.
“Oh, so you’ve met the family, then?” Gojo goaded.
“I barely even know the guy,” Megumi retorted bluntly.
“So when do we get to meet him?” Suguru chimed in, and now Megumi was going to kill everyone.
“Over my dead body.” He griped.
That earned a laugh out of everyone, apparently.
When dinner was finally over, the three men said their goodbyes to the girls, Megumi not bothering to help Gojo with his chore of the dishes, instead having immediately gone to put his shoes on to leave. After a short ride to the train station, provided by Geto, the family home just out of the way enough to warrant it too far a walk, Megumi finally found himself some peace and quiet.
Settling into his seat on the train, he slipped his headphones in, quiet and ambient music playing as he reopened the article he’d been reading, taking his time with it. By the time he’d read through it, he’d reached his stop, shooting off a quick reply to the boy who’d been the short topic of conversation with his family before hopping off of the train to begin his brief trek back to his apartment complex.
Itadori (Frat Guy)
[ Sent 6:38 PM ]
It’s an interesting take.
I’m still mad about the dog, though.
[ Delivered ]
He’s surprised when he doesn’t get an immediate reply.
***
The walls of his childhood home are darker than he remembers, dilapidated and peeling, despite being wood panelling and not wallpaper, rotting.
Everything is bigger than he remembers, too, doorways towering over him to the point that they curved and bent outwards, as though he were looking at them through a fisheye lens.
Something twists in his stomach, and suddenly he feels far too small and far too scared for being somewhere so familiar.
He walks past an opened door, and through the crack he glimpses the sight of an empty hospital room, a covered mass on the bed in the shape of a body.
He does a double take, but there’s nothing there now except blackness.
Suddenly, a new door looms over him, and he’s already reaching for the doorknob before he can stop himself. The room is too dark to make anything out.
Lightning flashes.
A body hangs from the ceiling, limp and heavy.
“Daddy?”
His voice isn’t his. It’s too young. Too high pitched.
Lightning flashes again. The body turns, the rafters creaking above it.
A younger face, not belonging to his father, glimpses in the fragmented darkness, discolored and distended into a look of horror and despair.
Choso.
Yuuji wakes with a gasp, heaving his breaths, hands seizing the blanket beneath his sweaty palms tightly. The fabric is damp. His entire body is covered in sweat, clothes clinging to him like leeches.
He sits up quickly, mouth dry, throat parched, burning. He scratches at his throat before his hands are suddenly feeling his face, sweat and tears beading over his cheeks. He feels feverish. He feels lightheaded.
He’s stumbling out of the attic, clutching the railing of the staircase as he beelines for the bathroom. Everything’s a blur until he’s splashing icy water in his face, breath still sputtering for air as he grips the edge of the counter. He winces as the memory of his father’s suicide flashes across his vision again, a pained noise escaping him as he splashes more of the icy water onto his face, bringing now frigid hands to coat the back of his burning neck.
He wasn’t sure how long he was staring at the water draining in the sink until he finally dared to look at himself in the mirror. He looks even paler in the harsh lighting of the bathroom, the underneath of his eyes puffy. He’s still catching his breath as he reaches up to rub at his cheeks and jaw with one hand, the muscle feeling tight, taught with tension. He looks sick.
When the hammering in his chest finally dies down to a steady pace, he rips off his clothes and hops into a cold shower, still feeling far too feverish. He wonders distantly if his fever might’ve broken in his sleep. He wonders if his new medication causes nightmares.
He doesn’t wonder why it was Choso’s face he saw instead of his father’s.
Yuuji shivers as he makes his way back up the stairs to the attic in just his towel, slumping against the door tiredly as he shuts it behind him. He felt more tired than he had been prior to his nap, downright exhausted. He pays it little mind, though, tossing his sweat-soaked clothes into the hamper and dressing into a jogging set, entirely grey but warm. He’s sitting on the edge of the bed when he finally catches the time on the clock.
‘8:57 PM’
He’s surprised he slept so long, considering how fatigued he felt. Turning, he sifts through the blanket until he finds his phone, sighing wearily as he scrolls through it. His lower back aches, and he isn’t sure if it’s his muscles or his kidneys, but nothing could get him to lay back down right now.
He scoffs as he sees Fushiguro’s reply, shaking his head. It eases the tension in him a little, opening up the text thread.
FushiGumi (ーー;) (Megumi)
Received [ 6:38 PM ]
I’m still mad about the dog, though.
Sent [ 9:00 PM ]
of course you are lol
He’s about to type another reply before he pauses, the dancing ellipses bubble popping up before he can.
FushiGumi (ーー;) (Megumi)
Received [ 9:00 PM ]
Wow, I thought you died.
Yuuji ignores the way the poorly timed joke makes him feel.
Sent [ 9:01 PM ]
nahh i took a nap
what?? miss me? ;)
As if. You’re just chronically on your phone. It’s almost concerning when your replies *aren’t* immediate.
surree
dont worry fushi ur secrets safe w me <3
Sure it is.
harsh bro </3
Yuuji scoffs to himself at the banter, crossing his legs as he settled down a bit.
what r u up to rn?
I was about to go to bed.
at 9pm??? u rly r an old man
We still have class in the morning.
Yuuji thinks it’s a fair point, but he’s surprised by Fushiguro’s next question.
‘Why?’
For some reason, it makes him pause for longer than he intends, simply staring at it blankly. It wasn’t out of the norm for him to ask what was up, it was actually fairly commonplace at this point. He was always asking what the guy was up to. But Fushi had never asked why. It almost felt like an invitation.
Was it?
He shook his head, feeling he was thinking far too into it. Nonetheless, it didn’t change his reply.
Sent [ 9:04 PM ]
no reason! i’m not doing anything rn
wanna hang?
Received [ 9:04 PM ]
And do what exactly?
Yuuji was delighted that the quick reply hadn’t been an immediate ‘no,’ grinning to himself.
idk ! not much happens on thursday nights if its not a kick back
ive got too much energy to sleep rn
could go on a walk? looks nice out
whatever you want tho! i’m down
Yuuji almost worries that the influx of messages would be enough to deter the boy from hanging out with him, but once again was pleasantly surprised by Fushiguro’s response.
Received [ 9:05 PM ]
Sure. Whatever’s fine.
Pick me up?
Yuuji grins as his stomach flips, something akin to butterflies instead of heartburn coming from it, already climbing off his bed to throw on his socks and sneakers, haphazardly typing out his confirmation before making his way down the staircase.
He was going to owe Todo half the cost of his auto insurance at this rate.
***
There was a surprising amount of traffic for a Thursday night in the university area, the college campus seated just a few blocks away from downtown, teetering between the edges of city life and suburbia. It hadn’t taken long for Itadori to arrive, Megumi having slipped out of his apartment with a dismissive goodbye to his roommates, Maki busy preparing a late dinner while Nobara and Toge sat curled up on the couch watching some new romantic thriller. Nobara, nosy as always, had tried to pry out of him where he was off to, the dark haired bio-major having merely given her “Out. Don’t wait up” as his answer.
As the familiar Jeep pulled to a stop in front of his apartment complex, Megumi was already approaching. Though having learned from this morning, Itadori had already stretched across the middle console to unlatch the door and shove it open for him.
“Do you, like, always try to do a drive-by jump-in when people pick you up?” Itadori asked, leaning back into the driver’s side with a laugh.
Megumi merely gave a shrug after plopping down into his seat, adjusting his sweater where it rode up from sliding down into the passenger side. “No, I’m just impatient.” He answered honestly.
Being early September, the nights were only cooler now, not quite yet chilly. He was surprised to see that Itadori was nearly fully covered in a tracksuit. With the heat on in the Jeep, he felt his skin pimple at the temperature difference. Even with the thin sweater hanging from his shoulders, he could feel himself already becoming uncomfortably warm. “Did you just finish with a run?” He asked, arching a brow as his eyes onced over the man. His forehead had a slight sheen to it, barely discernible in the darkness of the car, only illuminated by the console and dim streetlights.
“Huh?” Itadori’s brows furrowed for a moment before following his gaze to his tracksuit. “Oh, nah. Just a bit chilly, I guess.” He let out a small laugh, beginning to pull the Jeep out of the apartment complex and down the road.
“Is that why you have the heat blasting?” Megumi asked, tugging at the collar of his sweater in an attempt to breathe out the heat.
Itadori glanced over at him, eyes catching the movement before averting his gaze, looking forward instead as he drove. “Ah, not really. Just thought you might be cold since you’re usually bundled up in eighty-degree heat.” He answered teasingly, reaching forward and turning down the heat as he chuckled.
“Uh huh,” Megumi responded sarcastically, reaching up and running a hand through his spiky locks and relaxing in his seat, watching the world pass by past his window, neighborhoods and campus edges beginning to slowly give way to metropolis. Admittedly, he was glad that Itadori had invited him out, having spent the last few hours of the evening unable to concentrate on his assignments and anxiously laying in his bed, distracted by the events of his morning. Every time he closed his eyes, he could feel Toji’s gaze on him, sending a sickening nausea to his stomach without fail. He hadn’t noticed the nervous bouncing of his leg when he was suddenly snapped out of his thoughts at the feel of Itadori lightly tapping his shoulder with the back of his hand.
“Sorry, what?” Megumi spoke up with a slight hesitance, having suppressed the urge to jump at the touch, glancing down where Itadori’s hand had brushed.
Itadori laughed. “I was asking what you wanted to do.” He repeated, tilting his head slightly as he looked up at him, cheeks tinted red as they illuminated from the traffic light. “You good? You seem out of it.”
Megumi blinked before nodding, waving him off and turning away from him, looking back out the window. “I’m fine, just… A lot on my mind.” He replied, surprised at his own honesty.
Itadori sighed lightly, nodding as he ushered the vehicle along. “Yeah, I get that.” He breathed out, swiftly changing gears as he flashed the boy a grin, Megumi just catching it out of the corner of his eye as he glanced at him. “Did you have anything in mind, though?” He urged.
Megumi’s brow pinched as he considered their options, shaking his head after a moment. “Not really. I don’t know what people usually get up to on Thursday nights. Toge went to a kick-back with Panda and Maki’s gymnastics group, but that was earlier.”
Itadori hummed as he listened, tapping his index fingers rhythmically against the wheel of the car as the radio softly played a pop song Megumi didn’t know. “Well, I heard that there was some concert happening downtown. Free entry for anyone with a student ID.” He replied with a grin, leaning towards him for emphasis and a wiggle of his eyebrows.
The corner of Megumi’s lips twitched into a faint smirk. “And where did you hear that?” He asked, a slight distrust to his tone.
“Hah, funny enough, some girls on the drive over told me about it.” Itadori’s laugh was bright, tickled with amusement at the recall of the memory. “‘Was at a stoplight when they pulled up next to me and started yellin’ for me to roll my window down. Asked if I was going and I didn’t even know what they were talking about.” He chuckled out, leaning forward and checking both ways down the road before making a right.
Something soured in Megumi at the imagery, making a small noise of acknowledgement before leaning on his arm against the passenger door, looking away boredly. “They probably thought you were hot and wanted you to go with them.” He said flatly.
Itadori snorted, shaking his head. “I dunno about that,” he scoffed. “But they did tell me where it was happening. ‘Thought it might be fun if we went and saw what it was all about.”
Itadori, Megumi noticed, was well-practiced at convincing someone to do something they wouldn’t normally do, and not necessarily in a bad way. He could note it in the puppy-dog-like eyes and the way he spoke, tone light with excitement and intrigue, with that smile that seemed permanently plastered to his face.
What he found even more annoying was that he didn’t feel at all immune to it.
“Do you even know who’s playing?” Megumi asked, feigning disinterest as he raised an eyebrow at him.
“I don’t remember the name,” Itadori mused, “but I looked at the social media page for the venue, an outdoor bar I know just on the other side of downtown. Seemed to be some rock and roll cover band.” He gave a light shrug, though had a small gleam in his eye as he looked over at Megumi.
Megumi huffed a breath, shaking his head with a sigh. “I guess it’s better than nothing.” He conceded, purposely not reacting to the beaming grin that Itadori sported in response.
“Hell yeah, man! I’m sure it’ll be great.” He said, and then gave him a cheeky look. “Plus, I know the bartender there. Super cool chick at this hole-in-the-wall place. She’ll let us get away with a few drinks.” He added enticingly.
“And what? Be too hung over and miss class again?” Megumi asked, unimpressed.
Itadori chuckled again, shaking his head. “Nah, nothing like that. Just thought one or two wouldn’t hurt you. Guess you’re more of a lightweight than I thought.” He goaded.
“You know you still aren’t helping your case on the whole ‘not a typical frat guy’ front, right?” Megumi deadpanned, unable to help the grin that betrayed him.
“Oh, come on!” Itadori playfully wailed out, falling into another fit of laughter and a less convincing argument against it.
Before long, the two of them were making their way across the street, jogging as they jaywalked in the gap between two cars. The bar itself was small, and actually a half-level down from the main street, some sort of old record shop that was long past its closing time on top of it. Purple neon illuminated the sidewalk in front of it, a bouncer standing by the door as he checked the IDs of a group consisting of individuals seemingly close to their age.
“When you called it a ‘hole-in-the-wall’ place, I didn’t think you meant literally.” Megumi observed, looking up at the sign above the door, flashy blocky letters reading ‘Hole in the Wall!’
“Oh, yeah, my bad,” Itadori laughed out, rubbing the back of his neck. “It is a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, though. Real indie.” He commented, giving Megumi a hopeful smile.
“Right…” Megumi still wasn’t entirely convinced, eyes glancing over to the door as it briefly opened for the group ahead of them, loud rock music pouring out from it before becoming muffled again. “Student IDs, right?” He asked, nodding in the direction of the entrance.
Itadori nodded, motioning him to follow as they fished out the required cards, along with their actual IDs, the two of them getting ushered in without issue and with black ‘X’s marked on the backs of their hands.
Inside of the bar, the ceiling rafters hung low with purple and blue festoon lights being strung through them, Megumi wincing as brighter LEDs flashed from the stage with an assortment of waving lasers being cast from the small stage at the end of the room where the band played. It wasn’t very large, with just a few tables near the entrance seated by vintage arcade machines. It only had one bar, which was a contrast Megumi was surprised by, having only ever been dragged out to Nobara’s club nights on occasion, most of those venues sporting a large dancefloor and several bars to accommodate the crowd.
“It’s loud.” Megumi commented, raising his voice and leaning closer to Itadori as they strode in, squinting in the flashing lights.
“It’s rock and roll.” Itadori replied with a laugh, trying to make his observation just as flat as Megumi’s had been. As they walked, Itadori gestured for him to follow, weaving through the surprisingly crowded room. With the amount of attendees that appeared to be close in age to them, Megumi assumed that the marketing ploy of allowing students in free had done well for getting the bar more traction on what would, he guessed, be a slower night for them.
As they approached the bar, Itadori hopped into one of the stools, immediately drumming along with his hands to the music against the bartop. Megumi slid into one next to him, being forced to lean into Itadori’s space both to be heard and avoid being bumped into by the stranger to his right.
“Do you actually like this kind of place?” Megumi asked, voice straining, not enjoying having to talk so loud over the music, it being a pet peeve he was, unfortunately, forced to confront far more often than he preferred in his college life.
Itadori grinned at him, leaning closer, Megumi bristling as their shoulders brushed. “It’s fun if you give it a chance!” His tone was almost teasing as he gave the boy a nudge with his elbow.
“I can’t even hear myself think.” Megumi complained, giving him an annoyed look.
“You don’t need to think! Just enjoy it!” Itadori laughed out, his attention being pulled away as the female bartender called out to him.
“Yuuji Itadori! Is that you?” A tall girl with short brown hair approached them, clad in a black tank top and matching shorts, a bar towel hanging from her pocket as she crossed her arms to lean against the bar, closer to them.
“Hey Yuko!” Itadori beamed, matching her posture, the two leaning close to one another to speak. “Long time, no see!” He grinned.
“It’s good to see you! Who’s your friend?” She replied with a smile, looking over at Megumi with a half-grin, something about the way she said ‘friend’ causing Megumi to stiffen, forcing his expression to remain neutral.
“This is Fushiguro! We go to school together!” Itadori replied, gesturing for Megumi to join the conversation.
If the music wasn’t so loud, Megumi’s sigh of irritation could’ve been heard. Instead, he deflated slightly, leaning forward, reaching out to shake the hand extended to him by the bartender. “Nice to meet you!” He called out, surprised at the firmness of her handshake.
“Nice to meet you, too! I’m Yuko Ozawa. Yuuji and I used to go to junior high together, stayed in touch ever since.” She replied, taking her hand back to straighten up, placing her hands on her hips. “So, what can I get you guys to drink? Are you here to hear the band or drown it out?” She asked with an amused grin, apparently choosing to ignore the ‘X’s on their hands.
“Both!” Itadori answered for them. “I’m just gunna have water,” he said, and then turned to Megumi expectantly, leaning closer to him once more. “What do you want, Fushi?”
Megumi turned away, pointing his gaze to the chalkboard menu behind the girl, but not really reading it. He wasn’t used to having people in his personal space, especially in these sorts of settings. Nobara usually crowded him, but he’d grown used to that. He nearly winced as he was bumped into by the stranger next to him, earning a dismissive apology from them as he grunted to himself, looking back at Itadori. He was much closer than he expected.
“Vodka cran!” He blurted out, not really thinking about it. It was what he always ordered, never straying from what he knew. He wasn’t much for discovering new drinks he didn’t know the guaranteed effect of.
“Vodka cran it is!” Itadori relayed his order to the girl, who nodded and slipped away, beginning her craft. When she had moved, Itadori returned his attention to the dark haired boy. “You know, if you really hate it, we can leave whenever.” He offered, and something in Megumi’s chest twisted in guilt at the apologetic look in his eyes.
“It’s fine.” He answered, probably quicker than he intended, unsure as to why he was so willing to put up with the overstimulating atmosphere to appease him. “I’m getting used to it,” he lied, glancing over at the band on the stage. They weren’t bad, he had to admit. But rock had never been his preferred genre.
“Not a fan of rock music?” Itadori’s voice was suddenly in his ear, the boy having leaned forward over Megumi’s shoulder to speak to him. Megumi tensed at the closeness, swallowing a hard lump that had suddenly formed in his throat as he shook his head.
“It’s fine.” He managed out, repeating himself, head turning slightly to ensure he had heard him. He fought the sudden heat that bloomed on his neck, blaming the warmth inside the venue, Itadori’s easy observation of his distaste for the music having completely gone over him. “Are you?” He asked, turning slightly to finally face him, eyes widening slightly as Itadori didn’t pull away from him, Megumi leaning back slightly to even get a good look at him.
Itadori shrugged as he leaned against the bar near him, tilting his head as he beamed. “I like all music!” He answered, and Megumi didn’t doubt that for a second. “If I like a song, I like it. Doesn’t matter the genre.”
Megumi found himself at a loss for words, for no real apparent reason, simply staring at the boy and studying him. He opened his mouth to speak, hesitating before speaking up again, words falling out before he could think of them. “I like indie stuff. Nobara thinks it’s emo.”
And at this, Itadori let out a loud laugh, causing that same heat to creep back up him, scowling in response. “I know! Nobara told me, and I could kinda tell.” He chuckled out, dramatically wiping a non-existent tear from his eye, which only further deepened Megumi’s creased brow. “You should let me listen to your stuff sometime.” He said, though it came off as an earnest request, something genuine in his expression.
It caused Megumi’s frown to falter, lips pursing before he huffed. “I don’t think you’d like it.” He retorted.
“Try me!”
And for some reason, Megumi felt that same odd twist in his stomach at Itadori’s answer, and he looked away again. Thankfully, Ozawa had returned with their drinks.
“One vodka cran for the guest of honor,” she said, setting down the dark red drink in front of him. “And one water for the loser.” She gave Itadori his drink with a grin, Itadori giving her a look of mock offense.
“Hey! Not fair!” Itadori laughed out, Megumi unable to get his ‘thank you’ in as the two began to banter again. Something in him ached at their familiarity, and it tasted sour in his mouth, opting to sip his drink in the interim.
He nearly choked on the overwhelmingly acrid taste of vodka and notable lack of cranberry in his mouth, sputtering on the drink.
“Oh– Shit! Sorry, man!” Itadori laughed out, reaching out and patting Megumi on the back as he coughed, earning a half-hearted and weak glare from the boy. “Forgot to mention Yuko’s got a heavy pour!” Itadori chuckled, hand lingering as he rubbed circles into Megumi’s back in an attempt to soothe him.
Megumi blamed the distraction of choking on the fact that he didn’t pull away immediately, reaching up and wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand. His attention was pulled to Ozawa as she let out a bark of a laugh of her own.
“Only for my favorites,” she winked, turning her head to Megumi with an apologetic look. “Sorry about that, Fushiguro. Want some more juice in it? I’m used to pouring for Yuuji’s meat-head friends.” She explained, jabbing a thumb in Itadori’s direction as she spoke.
“You’ve got ‘meat-head’ right…” Megumi retorted, earning a snicker from the bartender and another feigned look of hurt on Itadori’s face. He couldn’t help but scoff at the look, reminded of how easy it was to tease the boy, returning to Ozawa and waving her off off. “It’s fine, I was just surprised. Thanks, though.” He managed out, Ozawa merely giving him a double-thumbs-up.
“Sounds good! You guys take care and let me know if you want anything else, I’ve got a group of girls drinking me dry over here.” She said, turning to leave.
“Hey, Yuko! What do I owe you?” Itadori called out, his hand still pressed loosely against Megumi’s back, the weight of it slightly tugging at his sweater.
“This one’s on me, since your friend is so cute,” Ozawa chimed, giving the two of them a wink before taking her leave, returning to her duties.
Megumi desperately tried to keep the heat he felt on his neck from spreading, hiding his face as he kept himself positioned forward in his seat, taking another, more mindful, sip of his drink in efforts to ignore her public commentary.
Itadori merely laughed beside him, finally pulling his hand away. “Sorry about her. She used to be super shy in junior high and then practically became a social butterfly in high school, now she gives me shit whenever I see her.” He chuckled out, turning to face Megumi entirely as he leaned against the bar, taking a sip of his water.
“She seems nice.” Megumi replied, thankful he could hear him a little better now as he adjusted to the loud music playing behind them, taking another sip of his beverage and grimacing slightly. It was strong, that much was obvious, but it was tolerable. It reminded him of the drinks Nobara would make for him, and he idly thought that the two girls would probably get along.
“Yeah, she is.” Itadori agreed, though couldn’t help the laugh that escaped him as he watched Megumi cringe at his drink. “You sure it’s not too strong?” He snickered.
Megumi only glared at him. “I can handle it, thanks.” He replied flatly, eyes flitting over to the cup of water in Itadori’s hand. He had almost questioned the lack of beverage choice at first, but had quickly remembered where they had been this morning, and what the frat boy had told him before at the party. Besides, it really wasn’t his place to be questioning the man’s drinking choices. Instead, he merely held out his other hand, making a grabbing motion at Itadori’s cup. “Let me chase with yours.” He practically demanded it.
Itadori didn’t seem to mind, laughing again as he obliged, lifting and handing the cup to Megumi. He leaned against the bar again, propping his chin in his hand as he watched Megumi take a few long, bitter gulps of his drink, immediately downing half of Itadori’s without remorse after it. As the dark haired boy made a noise of disgust afterwards, making a slight face at the taste, he glanced over to the other boy as he let out another snicker. Megumi frowned at him again, arching a brow.
“What’s so funny?” He asked flatly, taking another sip of Itadori’s water to drown the bitter taste from his mouth.
“Nothing,” Itadori resigned, shaking his head with a grin. He seemed to pause for a moment, searching Megumi’s face for something before he scoffed again, this one a little weaker. Megumi couldn’t make out his expression. “Yuko’s right, you are cute.” And Megumi was almost certain he’d heard him wrong from the quieter way it came out, but he guessed the music was still just too loud.
His eyes had widened in response, frown slipping with a look of surprise, feeling that same annoying flip of his stomach. At this point he was becoming irritated by it, which brought the glower to his face again. When Itadori didn’t correct himself or say anything else in that brief moment, Megumi realized he had heard him right. He was probably just teasing him again, he thought.
Forcing a scoff, he shook his head, bringing his drink to his lips again as he averted his gaze. “I’m not cute.” He deadpanned in response, both disagreeing and intending to let it be known he found it an insult, not a compliment.
Itadori only snorted again. “Cute enough to get us free drinks,” he pointed out, gesturing to the two in front of Megumi.
“You got water. They don’t exactly charge for that.” Megumi dismissed him, pushing the mentioned beverage back over to the peach-haired boy. It looked like his roots were starting to grow in, darkness haloing his hairline.
“Not yours, though,” Itadori lilted, taking his cup back with a grin and bringing it to his lips to drink from it, his gaze not falling from Megumi the entire time.
Megumi shifted uncomfortably under the observance, though didn’t let it show, merely adjusting in his seat to turn to the man now entirely, almost challengingly. “I think she just has the hots for you.” Megumi replied matter-of-factly, though frowned when he got another laugh in response.
“Yuko?! Nah, not anymore.” He laughed out, almost looking at him in disbelief. “We used to have crushes on each other back in school, but nothing ever came from it.” He chuckled out, Megumi not really being surprised by the fact.
Megumi arched a brow, glancing down the bar at where the girl worked before returning his gaze to him. “You don’t think she’s cute?” He asked, almost surprised by it. From what he could gather, the girl seemed entirely like Itadori’s type.
Itadori glanced over his shoulder in Ozawa’s direction, giving a shrug as he turned back to Megumi. “I mean, yeah, of course! But she’s my friend, I’m not into her.” He replied over the music casually.
Megumi’s brows furrowed, not entirely convinced. “Then what are you into?” And he asked it without thinking.
Itadori grinned, chuckling lightly at his question. “Ah, you sound like Todo-bro.” He laughed out, sighing as he tilted his head, mulling over his thoughts for a moment as he looked at Megumi intently. The bio-major didn’t like being studied like that, bristling under his gaze again.
“I mean, I like ‘em tall.” He finally answered with a laugh. “But I think I’m just into someone that can make me laugh.” He finished, seemingly pleased with an answer, a soft expression on his features.
Megumi’s eyes only narrowed. “That’s a pretty low bar, don’t you think?” He asked, almost sarcastically, raising his eyebrow.
Itadori waved him off with a grin, tittering. “Ah, shut up! I think it’s important for the person you’re with to make you happy– to make you laugh!” He argued, giving Megumi a pointed look. “What are you into?” He asked, and it caused Megumi’s own stifled scoff to pause.
He looked almost confused, as if confounded as to why Itadori would bother asking him, giving him a quizzical look. “Me?” He started, setting his drink down onto the counter and staring at it for a moment, running his fingers along the edge of the drink, tracking a droplet of water from the condensation of it. “I don’t know, I don’t date much.” He answered, slightly nonplussed at his own admittance. “I guess it only matters that they’re a good person.” He replied, looking over to Itadori once more. Though his more neutral expression quickly twisted back into one of annoyance as Itadori laughed at him again.
“‘A good person?’” He repeated, snickering. “And you said my bar was low!” He teased.
Megumi only huffed irritatedly as he took up his cup again and downed the rest of the beverage swiftly before bringing it back down to the counter. “You didn’t say they had to be a good person.” Megumi argued, shooting another glower in Itadori’s direction.
The boy only grinned. “Only good people can make me laugh.” He maintained, giving Megumi a look as though he had been ‘checkmated.’
“Uh huh,” was Megumi’s flat, unconvinced reply.
Suddenly, though, Itadori stood after having looked over his shoulder again, the song the band played changing, slipping between the barstools and nearly closing the distance between them, holding out a hand to him.
“Oh, I love this song! Let’s dance!” He called out, the music suddenly roaring in volume over them. From the cheers of the crowd on the dancefloor, Megumi guessed it was a fan favorite, glancing over at the group before looking back at Itadori with a dumbfounded expression.
“I don’t dance.” He refused flatly.
Itadori only scoffed, rolling his eyes before urging his hand forward more earnestly. “C’mon! Don’t be such an old grouch. I already got you out past your bed time, what’s the harm?” He teased, leaning down so he could hear his jabs.
Megumi frowned. “I’m not an old man.” He complained, but acquiesced nonetheless, taking Itadori’s hand a little aggressively, earning another chuckle from the boy, before being dragged away to the dance floor.
Itadori was already bouncing in step with the music by the time they reached the crowd, giving a hollering cheer over the music as he pumped his fist in the air in measure. He had turned his back to the band now, facing Megumi as he bounded back and forth to music excitedly.
Megumi thought he looked like a complete fool, and couldn’t help the amused and puzzled grin that stretched across his face, shaking his head with a scoff.
“You look like an idiot,” Megumi teased as he leaned forward, nearly shouting his words to be heard over the music.
Itadori only gave him a little shimmy in time with the beat of the song, earning another stifled laugh from the boy. “Maybe! But which one of us is having fun?” He contended, raising his eyebrows at him expectantly. When Megumi only rolled his eyes and crossed his arms with the shake of his head, the peach-haired boy gave another chuff, reaching forward and taking Megumi’s hands in each of his own, unfolding his arms as he pulled him.
“C’mon! Dance! Don’t have such a stick up your ass!” He laughed out, beginning to pull his hands back and forth with the music, still bouncing in time where he stood, grinning brightly.
“I don’t–!” Megumi started to argue, letting out an amused and annoyed huff as he shook his head. He felt the warmth of his drink tinging his cheeks, and while he didn’t feel at all buzzed from the one beverage, he blamed it for the way he heated in response, giving Itadori his best attempt at feigned irritation, weakly fighting the rhythmic pulling of his arms. “I don’t dance!” He opted for instead, repeating himself.
“Not like that, you don’t!” Itadori laughed, only encouraging him more earnestly with ridiculous side steps and light headbangs, the boy doing his damndest to get him to join him.
And, despite his reservations, he was reminded of Itadori’s secret art of convincing he had determined earlier, and whether or not he did so intentionally, it worked. With a huff of disbelief, he shook his head, finally returning the gestured dance moves with a small, unwilling hop in place, lightly bobbing his head and bouncing on his toes in time with the music as he moved his arms with Itadori’s pulling. The frat boy beamed like a pleased puppy, and Megumi only scoffed at the excited and happy expression on his face.
***
Yuuji wasn’t sure how long they had been dancing, having lost track of the time. Every time Fushiguro tried to pull away, waving his hands in an attempt to permit his escape, Yuuji was pulling him back. Admittedly, Fushiguro was right. He didn’t dance. He more so just… swayed to the music, giving the occasional bob of his head. He seemed too stiff, too caught up in the idea of being perceived, to really allow himself the freedom of enjoying the music, even if it wasn’t his cup of tea. Yuuji found himself wishing that he’d loosen up.
But no, Yuuji wasn’t sure how long they’d been dancing, and maybe he was catching himself staring at the boy in the flickering lights. But hey, Fushiguro was a better sight than the images of hospital rooms and nightmares that still threatened to flash behind closed eyes, haunting him even now. Only a few songs had played since they first came to the dancefloor, but Yuuji could feel his pulse in his ears now, the pounding of his heartbeat in his chest as his breathing grew just a bit heavier from the exertion. It was perplexing, honestly. Dancing never winded him before, and the sudden sharp pain in his ribs, like he’d been running too hard for too long, had him wincing. When the pain suddenly shot into his lower back, nauseatingly familiar, he guesses that he didn’t hide it as well as he’d hoped.
Fushiguro’s smile fell from his face, having been the smallest of graces that Yuuji was able to pull from him, when he caught Yuuji’s pained expression. His brows furrow in confusion as he suddenly ducks closer, reaching out to place a steadying hand on Yuuji’s shoulder. Yuuji’s so caught off guard by the display that it momentarily distracts him from the pain.
“Hey! Are you okay?” His voice is straining still to be heard over the music, and Yuuji couldn’t help but wonder if he ever spoke up. Luckily, Yuuji was a good lip reader.
“Yeah, I’m fine!” Yuuji waves him off dismissively, nodding in the direction they had come in as he began to maneuver off the dance floor. “Got a cramp!” He laughs out in an attempt to be reassuring, patting the pain in his ribs and ignoring the renal pain.
“Oh,” was Fushiguro’s articulated response, simply staring at him as he watched him move away before finally following. Fushiguro seemed to be lingering at his side like an unsure ghost, standing close but not too close, and Yuuji couldn’t help but chuckle at him again.
“Don’t worry! I’m not dying,” he laughs it out like it isn’t the truth, because to him it isn’t. It can’t be.
“I didn’t think dancing was fatal.” Fushiguro deadpans, unimpressed. “Do you want some water?” He asks, gesturing over his shoulder to the bar. Yuuji nods, and it’s all it takes for Fushiguro to slip away as the frat boy finds a chair near the arcade machines, slumping down in it.
“C’mon, c’mon…” He whispers to himself, balling the fabric of his shirt at the pain site and digging in hard with his knuckles, somehow trying to will it away. It didn’t make any sense, it–
“Here.”
Fushiguro was suddenly standing in front of him, holding out a glass of water. Either he moved like lightning, or Yuuji had been doubled over longer than he thought.
“Thanks, man!” Yuuji replies graciously, grabbing the cup and chugging down a few gulps of it before placing it on his table, only to watch as Fushiguro took it in turn to steal a few sips. “I thought that was for me,” he laughs out.
Fushiguro still doesn’t seem impressed, and Yuuji wonders if he ever is. “I’m hot. Water is cold.” He explains it like a science they learned in grade school. Technically, he’s pretty sure they did.
“Guess so,” he manages out with a chuckle, taking the cup back from him as it’s handed to him, giving another ‘Thanks’ before downing more of its contents. “‘Ya ready to head out of here?” He asks between sips, looking up at the dark haired boy. He seems even paler in the darkness, and Yuuji fights the urge to ask if it’s natural or because he’s a shut-in. It’s an easy enough urge to fight, though, because Fushiguro isn’t even looking at him, frowning at something over his shoulder before snickering. “What?” He asks, not turning yet.
“I’m fine, but I think you will be.” Fushiguro observes, nodding in the direction of his gaze. “It looks like some drunk guy is pissing on your friend’s Jeep.” He points out, and sure enough, beyond the window of the bar, across the street, there’s a guy. And he’s definitely drunk. And he’s super definitely pissing on Todo’s Jeep.
“Oh, fuck– You’ve got to be kidding me–” He complains aloud, cutting himself off as he’s suddenly standing, ignoring any lingering pains and marching out the door. He doesn’t catch Fushiguro waving goodbye to Yuko, too distracted by his new mission impossible.
“Hey, man! Cut it out! The hell’s wrong with you?!” Yuuji hurries over in long, quick strides, giving the guy a slap to his shoulder before grabbing him by the back of his collar.
“Itadori, I wouldn’t–” Fushiguro’s warning goes unheard as Yuuji practically yelps, jumping back as the man turns around, still pissing.
“Jesus–! Fuckin’ hell, man?!” Thankfully, he dodges any misaimed stream and stumbles backwards, Fushiguro catching him. He’s about to let out more profanities before he feels Fushiguro shaking against him, hands tight on his shoulders. “Fushi…?” He starts, and then it happens.
Fushiguro is laughing.
Like. Full belly laughing.
Yuuji isn’t sure if Fushiguro intended to hold his stumbling self up, or if he was using Yuuji for support. He doesn’t really care either way, though, as he simply stares at the dark haired boy over his shoulder with a stupidly wide grin. Fushi’s laugh is almost nothing like himself, much lighter and higher pitched than he expected, and he barely manages a breathy chuckle of his own before Fushiguro is waving him off, letting him go. Yuuji’s perplexed further by his disappointment at the sudden space between them again.
“Sorry, sorry–!” Fushiguro manages out, catching his breath. “I thought– I thought for sure the guy pissed on you!” He laughs out, and he’s suddenly much louder than Yuuji ever remembered him being, their hearing unadjusted to the quiet of the empty street.
Well, empty besides some stranger with no common decency drunkenly stumbling away, grumbling profanities under his breath as he shoves his dick back into his pants.
“And you were laughing at that?!” Yuuji asks incredulously, but he’s laughing now, too, trying to stifle the chuckle escaping him far too easily.
“Of course I was!” Fushiguro manages out, and he almost seems upset that Yuuji doesn’t find it as funny as he does.
Yuuji merely scoffs, both in disbelief and disappointment at the sequence of events. He almost thinks he’s upset that he wasn’t the one to really get that laugh out of him, but he shrugs it off, instead directing his attention to the larger, notably rank issue at hand.
He runs a hand through his hair exasperatedly, placing a hand on his hip as he simply stares at the wet stain on the side of the vehicle in distress. “Fuck, man..” He breathes out in annoyance, still chuckling through it, confounded by the whole ordeal. “You don’t think it’ll stain, do you? And why does it smell?!” He asks in a dramatic wail, looking at Fushiguro as if he had the answer to that particular question.
Fushiguro is covering his mouth now, having quieted his laughter, and gives him a conceded shrug, shaking his head. “No, Itadori. It’s not going to stain,” he answers his former question at least. “But you’re going to have to explain why your friend’s car smells like piss now.” He manages out without laughing, though still hiding the smirk on his face.
“Yeah, yeah, it’s real funny.” Yuuji retorts sarcastically, shaking his head with a half-grin. “What am I gunna do?” He asks it more rhetorically, but Fushiguro answers anyway.
“Well, you’re going to have to clean it, for one.” Thankfully, he doesn’t seem nearly as amused at this prospect, moving to stand next to the peach haired boy and glancing up at him.
“I’m not touching that!” Yuuji barks out immediately, almost like a tempestuous child. And he notices that Fushiguro isn’t nearly as short as he thought he was, barely an inch or two so.
Fushiguro rolls his eyes. “You don’t have to touch it, dumbass.” He deadpans, though still seems far too amused for Yuuji’s liking, even if he doesn’t really mind it and is glad at least one of them finds it funny.
Okay. Admittedly, Yuuji found it really funny, too. He’d find it funnier if it wasn’t Todo’s Jeep.
“There’s one of those drive-thru car washes near my apartment by the convenience store.” Fushiguro points out, and Yuuji looks at him like he just solved world hunger.
“Oh, thank God, you’re right! Let’s go!” Yuuji says hurriedly, carefully maneuvering around the puddle of piss that, of course, was right by the driver’s side door, and hopping into the car after unlocking it.
Fushiguro doesn’t complain, only scoffing and following in suit, climbing into the passenger’s seat once more from the opposite side. Still, he can’t seem to help himself when he speaks up.
“So, is this everything you had in mind for your spontaneous Thursday night out?” He asks, and Yuuji gives him a failed attempt at a glare, smirk showing through.
“You really like pushing my buttons, huh?” He asks instead, and something glints in Fushiguro’s eyes, something Yuuji can’t quite make out, but can tell he wants to see again.
“Maybe.” Fushiguro’s answer is simple, not as coy as he’d imagined it would have been, and Yuuji feels something in his chest rattle at the notion.
He peels them out of the parking lot, heading back down the road towards suburban, university-themed sanctuary.
They’re still bickering over the whole ordeal by the time they arrive at the car wash, and one of the songs on the radio that starts playing is one that the band had played earlier in the night.
“Ugh, enough of this. Isn’t there anything else we can listen to?” Fushiguro protests, and Yuuji scoffs at him, shaking his head.
“You sure are picky.” He teases, a memory coming to mind and leading him to fish out Todo’s aux cord, plugging it in and handing it the dark haired boy. “Play something you like.” He instructs with a smile, and grins at the slightest fluster that appears on his face.
“We don’t have to do that.” He quips plainly, not moving to fetch the required personal device.
“Sure we do!” Yuuji argues, the Jeep rumbling just in front of the entrance to the car-wash. It’s larger than he thought, one of the more luxe ones, and doesn’t miss the double digit price tag on it either. But, honestly, he’d pay anything to not give Todo back a ‘piss-Jeep.’ “C’mon,” he urges. “I want to hear what music you like.” He encourages, emphasizing the cord in his hand with a gentle shake of it.
Fushiguro stares at him for a moment, a mixture of doubt and unsureness and something else in his expression that he can’t name, glancing between Yuuji’s outstretched hand and his face. Yuuji gives a pleading expression, the best use of his puppy dog eyes for the night so far, and the boy finally concedes, sighing as he snatches it from his hand.
“Fine. But I don’t want to hear anything about it being… Weird or whatever.” He grumbles, plugging the aux cord into his phone, flicking through a few pages on the screen before pulling up a playlist, beginning to scroll through it.
“I’m not gunna say anything,” he laughs out, shaking his head, deciding to take the moment to roll the window down and pay for the car wash. Moving the car forward, he rolls the window back up, settling in as he feels the machine’s clamps attach to the tires, placing the car in neutral. Once he does, he turns to Fushiguro expectantly, but is surprised to see him looking at him already. There’s an uneasiness to his expression that causes Yuuji’s own to soften, giving him a small smile.
“‘Ya ready?” He asks, hoping to encourage him further. He hates that he feels so hesitant to share his music, though he isn’t exactly surprised. Music was personal, and Fushiguro was incredibly guarded by nature. It made sense.
“Alright…” Fushiguro says, slumping in his seat, clearly unhappy about it. He isn’t looking at him when he presses play, a slow, acoustic melody with a steady beat beginning to play through the speakers, Yuuji immediately reaching forward to turn it up a bit. “I thought you might like this one.” He explains, glancing at him tentatively.
“I think I will,” Itadori replies softly, giving him a reassuring and overly confident grin, something in his heart easing as his passenger scoffs at him, shaking his head and grumbling a shut up.
As the music swells, he’s surprised by the familiarity he feels in the voice, though he can’t quite place it, lightly tapping his foot on the floormat and drumming his fingers on the middle console in time with the song, nodding his head. It’s a sad song, that’s for sure, but there’s something hopeful about it. He finds himself lost in it, relaxing to the melancholic tune.
As the car wash pulls them along, the lights inside the drive-thru dim, soft neon hues bathing them as water and soap are misted over the car, the measured and mechanic thumbing of the scrubbers playing almost in time with the song’s beat. Yuuji’s about to speak up, about to break the silence, when he looks over at Fushiguro, and his voice catches in his throat.
Suddenly, he feels like he’s looking at Megumi. His expression is soft, and while vacant of a smile and full of neutrality, there’s an easiness to his eyes, partially lidded as he watches the neon swirl above them, reflecting in dark green discs. Megumi’s slowly nodding his head to every other beat of the song, his fingers lightly tapping on the back of his phone. And then, he realizes he’s silently mouthing the lyrics, lips barely moving.
And Yuuji realizes that Yuko was wrong, suddenly feeling silly for having been nervous when he agreed with her.
Megumi isn’t cute. He’s–
Yuuji feels his face flush hot when Fushiguro catches him staring, green eyes wide, the boy apparently just as embarrassed at being caught up in the song, averting his gaze once more.
“I like it,” Yuuji blurts out, just to get him to look at him again, voice a bit too earnest.
“What?” Fushi asks, looking at him with a soft pinch to his brow.
“The song.” He clarifies, giving a nervous huff of a laugh, the corner of his mouth quirking into a small grin. “I like it.”
“Oh.” is all Fushiguro’s response is, nodding, looking down at his phone again. The song is dying down now, the sound of a VHS ejecting coming as an aesthetic choice. “I have another one by the same band,” he says. “You probably know this one, actually.”
And without even needing Yuuji’s urging, the peach haired boy already nodding, Fushiguro begins playing the song. And he’s right, Yuuji does know this one, causing an excitement in him to spike. The familiar acoustic guitar followed by a soft, electronic thrumming waving in and out of the background plays, and Yuuji’s grin is bright and infectious as he sees Fushiguro’s lips threaten to quirk into the faintest of smiles.
“Oh, I do know this! It’s-It’s from, ah, what’s that game? The one with the butterflies and time shit?” He asks, snapping to try and call it back to his memory.
Fushiguro nods. “That’s the one.” He confirms, quiet again. “I went looking for more of his music after I played it, a lot of his older stuff has that ‘raw feed’ sound to it, but… I like it. I like this kind of music.” He clarifies, finally answering Yuuji’s original question.
Yuuji only nods for a moment, still smiling proudly at knowing the song, leaning back in his seat and nodding along to the familiar tune, some of the lyrics coming back to him.
After a quiet moment, he speaks up, tilting his head to look over at the younger man. “It’s good, you know,” he starts, Fushiguro shooting him an arched brow. “Your music taste. You shouldn’t be so shy about it.” He says, chuckling softly.
Fushiguro frowns. “I’m not shy.” He argues, though Yuuji would beg to differ. But he doesn’t. “I just… don’t like sharing this kind of stuff. It’s–”
“–Personal?” Yuuji finishes for him, earning a suspicious set of narrowed eyes, only to be conceded to a scoff, Fushiguro shaking his head.
“Yeah, personal,” he huffs lightly, though there’s no bite to his words, leaning against his propped arm on the door.
The two fall silent again, finding comfort in the ambient sound of the car wash as Fushiguro’s quiet music plays in the background. With the late hour after such a taxing day for the both of them, Yuuji couldn’t help the yawn that escaped him as they reached the end of the car wash, pressing down on the brakes as he switched the Jeep back into drive.
“Ready to call it a night, Fushi…?” He started, but when he looked over, he realized that Fushiguro had already dozed off, resting quietly against the door. Yuuji smiled softly, now counting two times that the boy had fallen asleep on him, and he wondered to himself if he ever got a good night's sleep.
Well, he thought, I guess that makes two of us.
Without wanting to wake him, Yuuji made the careful and steady drive back to Fushiguro’s shared apartment, it not taking nearly as long as he hoped or expected. More of the other’s music played as he drove, atmospheric and sad and warm. When he puts the car into park, he reaches over, gently shaking the dark haired boy awake.
“Hey, Fushi…” He whispers, and feels a pang of guilt hit him as Fushiguro wakes with a start, eyes wide as his breath catches in his throat, only to relax at the sight of Yuuji.
“Shit, sorry. I didn’t mean to… fall asleep on you,” he manages out, rubbing one of his eyes as he looks around at their new surroundings.
“Don’t worry about it, it’s late, dude.” Yuuji reassures. “I went ahead and brought you back.”
“Oh.” Fushiguro says, and Yuuji’s brows threaten to pinch, the other almost sounding disappointed at the fact. “Thanks.”
“No problem. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”
Fushiguro nods, moving to unbuckle himself and reaching for the door handle.
“Hey, Fushi?” Yuuji calls out, just as he opens the passenger door. Fushiguro looks back at him, surprisingly expectant. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight. I needed the breather.” He admits, still smiling at him softly, more for him than for himself.
Fushiguro simply stares at him for a moment before nodding again. He pauses, as if unsure of how to respond, before finally nodding again and meeting his gaze.
“Same.” He says, and the frankness momentarily stuns him. “See you tomorrow, Itadori.” And with that, he leaves, disappearing down the dark side walk.
Yuuji looks at the clock, blocky letters reading that it was nearly midnight. He shakes his head as he puts the car back into drive, waiting as he watches Fushiguro approach his apartment door and unlock it. He sees his silhouette, undetailed, raise his head in his direction, giving a wave. Yuuji isn’t sure if he can see him wave back, but he does so anyway, until he watches him disappear beyond the threshold.
He sighs, beginning to pull out of the apartment complex. And despite the warmth he felt in his chest from the shared night, he wished he had anywhere else to go other than home.
Back to the fraternity, back to the attic, back to the blood-stained puke bucket.
Back to the nightmares.
***