Chapter Text
Megumi woke up with a raging headache, which was to be expected after last night’s activities. Groaning, he rolled onto his side, noticing the full glass of water and bottle of ibuprofen on the bedside table. A gift from Gojo, most likely. Megumi winced against the sunlight peeking through the gaps in his blinds as he sat up, taking an appreciative swig of the water before cracking into the pain relievers.
He should have felt embarrassed by his behavior last night, stumbling all over the place drunk and crying. And Megumi didn’t cry. Publicly. Instead, he was overcome with a thick sense of relief, dousing him in its warmth as he recounted his conversation with Gojo and Geto. At least he knew they didn’t hate him. Itadori didn’t hate him either, which just left him feeling confused. What the hell was Nobara so upset about, if not about Itadori?
Megumi stretched as he got out of bed, still feeling a bit wobbly on his feet. The scent of eggs and rice half-hung in the air, on the verge of dissipating. It stirred something in his stomach for once, but one glance at the time told him it was past eleven, and he’d definitely missed breakfast.
The shuffling of papers and the whiff of coffee his senses caught as he padded down the hallway told him Gojo was home grading his student’s papers. It was an oddly soothing idea, his guardian sitting quietly for once, enjoying the Saturday morning sun as he did his work to keep a roof over their heads and make this house a home.
“Good morning, Megumi,” Gojo greeted, glancing up from his papers. “Sleep well?”
Megumi checked the coffee maker, but it was empty, so he busied himself filling the filter and the water tank to make his own cup.
“Sure,” he replied dryly. “About as well as I could.”
He assumed that he would have fallen asleep quickly, the heavy quantities of alcohol in his system dragging his brain into unconsciousness, but he spent what felt like hours tossing and turning and getting tangled in his sheets, replaying his conversation with Itadori in his head. Megumi wasn’t sure if that was out of confusion, or just to pretend that he was staring into those golden-brown eyes again.
While he was thinking of Itadori, he should probably text him back, at least to be polite. Megumi owed him that much.
Glad you made it home safe. Hope you slept okay. Then another message, Thank you for last night. You didn’t have to do that.
Megumi shoved his phone into his hoodie pocket, not really wanting to wait for a response, and opened the fridge.
“Hungry?” Gojo asked. “I think your dad is going to make lunch when he gets home from the store.”
“Okay.”
Megumi let the fridge fall closed and moved over to the coffee maker to pour himself a mug. He’d eat when Geto returned. He took his mug over to the table and slid into his usual seat, opening his phone to scroll through his social media accounts while Gojo graded papers.
It looked like his bandmates had a good time without him.
He scrolled past Nobara’s post without double tapping. Suddenly, he wasn’t so hungry.
“Who was the boy who dropped you off last night?” Gojo asked, trying and failing to sound casual.
Megumi shouldn’t have been surprised. Gojo was observant like that. That didn’t stop him from shooting the older man a piercing and suspicious glare.
“What?” Gojo said innocently. “I heard you two talking outside. You know I have keen senses.”
Megumi forced his face into a disinterested expression. It was impossible to get anything past Gojo. He should have known this by now.
“He’s no one,” he answered. “Just some guy I know.”
“Just some guy who was willing to walk you home when you were wasted, and carry your bass up the stairs? I don’t buy it. Besides, he sounded like such a sweet-”
“It was nothing, really,” Megumi interjected. “He’s just someone I know.”
Though Megumi would be lying if he said Itadori’s act of kindness didn’t win over his heart a little bit. A miniscule fraction, really.
Gojo smiled knowingly.
“Y’know,” he said, “when I was your age, I moved in and adopted kids with someone who I told my parents was just someone I knew.”
“That’s good for you,” Megumi retorted. “But really, he’s just someone I know. I have no plans of moving out or adopting children any time soon.”
“Good. I’m too young to be a grandpa.” Gojo took a long sip of his coffee, a devilish grin playing at the sides of his mouth as he put the mug down. “I know I don’t need to tell you about the birds and the bees. I’ve seen you come home, all marked up, like-”
Megumi drowned out the rest of his sentence with a frustrated groan.
“Where are my sisters when I need them?”
“Doing their homework like the responsible students that they are, probably.”
Megumi huffed, but there was no real weight behind it.
“I’m a responsible student too.”
“Should I bring out your disciplinary record from high school?” Gojo teased lightly.
Megumi was about to bite back, but the front door swung open, cutting him off.
“Go help your dad put away the groceries, and we can revisit how responsible you are then.”
Megumi pushed his food around his plate listlessly, ignoring the vibration of his phone in his pocket. Geto was a good cook, the only one besides Tsumiki who could be trusted in the kitchen, yet Megumi’s stomach turned every time he put something in his mouth, chewed, and forced himself to swallow. It’d been happening more and more often, where Megumi’s own body traitorously left him unable to eat.
“And then I told him that if he wanted my help studying, that he would have to pay me, and he threw a fit,” Mimiko complained. “I mean, my time doesn’t come for free, y’know.”
“I think that’s fair,” Megumi replied. “Want me to punch him?”
“Megumi,” Gojo scolded, “no punching people.”
Megumi shrugged, picking around a few grains of rice.
“Food not to your liking?” Geto asked. “I can make you something else, if you want.”
Megumi shook his head.
“It’s not that. I’m just not super hungry.”
Which was a lie. When Megumi woke up, all he wanted was to tuck into a bowl of rice with a soft-yolked egg, but now, the thought of it was nauseating, and for no good reason.
Gojo frowned.
“Really?” he asked. “You seemed hungry earlier.”
Megumi shrugged.
“I don’t know. I’m just not anymore.”
“Megumi, you’ve lost some weight so—”
“Satoru,” Geto warned, “don’t harass him. You’ll just make it worse. If he’s hungry, he’ll eat, but if he’s not, you can’t make him.”
Megumi stared into his plate, willing his appetite to return to no avail. It had been happening more often recently, where Megumi would be hungry, starving even, but when would sit down to eat, his appetite would get up and walk away, leaving Megumi tired and nauseated.
Megumi half-heartedly shoved a few more bites into his mouth, trying to appreciate Geto’s effort and the different flavors, before standing up to take his plate to the kitchen.
“I’ll be in my room.”
In the security of his room, Megumi pulled his phone out, glad to see his hopes of receiving a response from Itadori fulfilled. He suppressed the stupid grin forming on his face and scanned the message.
i know i didnt have to but i wanted to
i wouldnt just leave u in a situation like that fushiguro. its dangerous
anyway yeah i slept well. dreamed of ur pretty face
There was a ridiculous blush painting Megumi’s face tomato red, and, despite the fact that he was alone, he brought his hand up to cover it. This was scary territory for him. He didn’t kiss without hooking up, he didn’t keep in contact with anyone after messing around with them, and he certainly didn’t catch feelings like this. And yet Megumi found himself chasing the way his heart raced and the way his head swum when he talked to Itadori.
Glad to hear you slept well.
Megumi honestly expected that to be the end of the conversation. Itadori didn’t owe him anything, and he didn’t owe Itadori anything. Kugisaki would really kill him if this kept on anyway, and Itadori was too sweet to get dragged into Megumi’s bullshit. It was best if things ended here.
wanna hear abt my dream :)
Megumi sat down on the bed, weighing his options. On the one hand, he was kind of interested, and the last thing he wanted was to be rude to Itadori after he’d been so kind and helpful last night. On the other hand, if Itadori told him he dreamed about something like them making out…or worse…Megumi would be so totally in over his head and there would be no way for him to swim back to shore.
But Yuuji Itadori, for all his inability to take a hint and lack of self preservation, was annoyingly endearing, and no matter how much he wanted to, Megumi couldn’t resist him.
Sure.
Megumi stared at the gray typing bubble for far too long, waiting with baited breath. Whatever Itadori dreamed about must have been especially vivid. Megumi tried to prepare himself for some overly detailed explanation of them kissing, or the way his bare torso looked under the moonlight.
basically u and i went to chuck e cheese and i wanted to play in the ball pit and u didnt rlly wanna go but i dragged u anyway and then u got in a fight with a child bc they kept throwing balls at u and we got asked to leave so i took u to burger king and we both turned into fries in the same carton
Megumi had to resist the urge to laugh out loud.
Well. It was something.
sorry that was weird right? but i usually have pretty vivid dreams that dont make sense
No, Megumi replied. I never remember my dreams, so I thought it was funny.
Itadori texted back quickly. rlly? that must be so weird
Not really.
If Itadori texted back after that dry message, he really did lack self-preservation. But the typing bubble reappeared anyway. btw how r u feeling after last night? any hangover?
Surprisingly, no.
good :), Itadori replied.
Megumi was ready to put his phone down and be done, not because he didn’t like talking to Itadori, but because he was the world’s most awkward texter, but the typing bubble appeared once more.
i think i know the answer but after last night i thought i’d give it another shot…can i take u to dinner or smth? a movie perchance?
Megumi tried to pretend that his heart didn’t skip a beat.
I’m sorry, Itadori. I really don’t date people, but maybe we can hang out as friends sometime.
Megumi’s heart beat rapidly in his chest as he waited for Itadori’s response, so fast that it was almost as if he was the one asking Itadori out, not the other way around.
yeah that would be great :D i’d love to hang out!
Megumi breathed a sigh of relief, tossing his phone to the side. He wasn’t sure what to do about his potential budding crush, but as long as they remained friends and nothing else, he wouldn't be hurting Itadori, and that was all that mattered right now.
At some point, Megumi had drifted to sleep, his dreams hazy and filled with flashes of pink and gold. It wasn’t until a soft knock at his door broke through his slumber that he woke up, blinking the sleep from his eyes.
“Megumi,” Tsumiki called, quiet so as not to disturb him, “Dad wants to know if you want dinner.”
Megumi sat up, his bones feeling like lead, threatening to pin him to the bed.
“Yeah,” he replied. “I’ll be right there.”
A few minutes later, he managed to drag himself from the bed and down the hallway, lured into the kitchen by the scent of Geto’s cooking.
“Still in your PJs?” Gojo asked when he sat down. “Are you not going out with your friends tonight?”
Megumi shook his, picking up his chopsticks.
“I think I’m going to start staying home a bit more,” he said, “maybe sober up a bit too.”
Geto hummed in response, piling a generous amount of food onto Megumi’s plate.
“That’s probably a good idea,” he replied.
“I guess.”
Megumi took a bite of his food, letting the conversation between his sisters fade into the background, creating a comforting ambience. Last night was embarrassing, to say the least, but if anything it was a wake-up call. Things were starting to get out of control. He’d ruined his things with his friends and narrowly avoided being kicked out of the band, purely by virtue of the fact that there weren’t that many bassists around. He embarrassed himself in front of Itadori, too, which shouldn’t have upset him as much as it did. He’d been the source of tension between his guardians and his sisters. Previously, he’d considered a stiff drink to be the solution to his problems, not the source of them. Maybe he’d been wrong this whole time.
Although, it wasn’t that simple, he decided, pushing the food around his plate without any real effort to eat it. He still had no appetite, and he felt drained and exhausted. Maybe it was just a hangover. After a few days, he’d probably start feeling normal again.
What was normal anyway? Megumi hadn’t felt normal in a long time, or maybe normal for him was just different than it was for other people.
“How are you doing, Megumi?” Geto asked, carefully avoiding looking at Megumi’s plate. “You’ve been off the grid for a bit. What’ve you been up to”
Megumi shrugged. Failing classes, failing friendships, failing hookups…
“Um, not much, I guess,” he replied. “I’ve been pretty focused on my music.”
He wasn’t lying.
“I’ve heard a bunch of people talking about your band at school,” Nanako contributed. “Everyone thinks you guys are really cool.”
Megumi looked up, intrigued.
“Really?” he asked.
Nanako nodded.
“People have a lot of good things to say about you in particular.”
Gojo leaned forward.
“Like what?” he asked, sounding a bit too delighted for Megumi’s comfort.
“Mostly, they think he’s really hot and cool.”
Megumi’s face burned with embarrassment.
“Great,” he muttered. “Thanks for telling me that.”
He wanted to smack the stupid grin off of Gojo’s face.
“That’s my son!” he cheered. “Hot and cool! Just like me!”
Megumi was ready to disappear into his room and hibernate again after dinner, but his sisters had apparently decided that wasn’t in the cards for him tonight. He barely made it a few steps down the hall before he was being dragged into Tsumiki’s room by the scruff of his neck, as if he were a stray kitten.
“What is this?” he grumbled as Tsumiki closed the door behind them.
“Sibling bonding time,” she quipped. “It’s been too long since you’ve hung out with us, Megumi.”
Megumi knew he wasn’t going to get out of whatever this was easily, so he sat down on her bed with a huff.
“Alright. What are we doing?”
Nanako held up her cosmetics bag.
“Self-care night and life updates! Specifically Megumi life updates.”
Megumi groaned.
“Why me?” he asked. “Don’t any of you have anything exciting going on in your lives?”
“Well, yes,” Nanako replied, “but none of them are as interesting as whatever is going on between you and Yuuji Itadori.”
Megumi rolled his eyes as Mimiko unscrewed a bottle of maroon nail polish. That was quite possibly the last thing he wanted to talk about, but he supposed he didn’t have much of a choice. Getting up and walking out seemed more difficult than half-heartedly answering some prying questions.
“So what is it that happened?” Nanako asked, picking out her own nail polish, Tsumiki doing the same. “Did you guys hook up or something?”
Megumi picked at a stray thread on Tsumiki’s duvet, looking for something to busy his hands as his sisters painted their nails.
“What happened to hi?” he grumbled. “Or how are you?”
“Megumi, answer, or I’m painting your nails bubblegum pink,” Nanako threatened.
She held up the bottle as proof, and Megumi sighed in resignation.
“We didn’t hook up,” he said reluctantly, “because Itadori asked not to, and I agreed.”
“I’m surprised,” Mimiko said. “Thought you weren’t into that kind of thing.”
Megumi shrugged. He wasn’t, but if he was being honest, Itadori had him bending in directions he didn’t think he was willing to bend.
Tsumiki eyed Megumi curiously.
“Why is your skin so good?” she complained. “You smoke and drink all the time. That’s not fair.”
“I don’t know. It’s just like that.”
Nanako huffed, digging around in her bag with her free hand.
“Someone put these on him,” she said, tossing a foil packet on the bed. “His skin is good, but his eye bags aren’t. Do you even sleep, Megumi?”
Megumi scowled.
“Yeah, sure, don’t ask me if I want to do any of this,” he griped, but there was no real weight behind it.
It had been a while since they’d spent quality time together as siblings. Megumi was always shrugging them off and pushing them away these days. But sitting here on Tsumiki’s bed, soft pop music playing in the background, he felt like maybe things could maybe go back to how they’d been before Megumi had gone entirely sour.
“So did you just make out then?” Mimiko asked, laying the masks below Megumi’s eyes. “Or nothing?”
Megumi’s nose twitched at the floral scent.
“We made out.”
“Was it good?” Tsumiki asked curiously. “Did you like it?”
Mimiko snickered.
“His face got so hot when you said that.”
“I think that’s enough of an answer,” Megumi deflected. “Let’s move on.”
Nanako held up the pink nail polish again.
“More detail, please,” she begged in a sing-songy voice.
Megumi groaned.
“Fine! It was…good. He was really sweet. Gentler than I’m used to. Took his time with me. It seemed like he actually cared. Happy?”
None of them spoke for a moment, they just stared at him so intensely that he wanted to crawl under Tsumiki’s duvet and never come out.
Nanako moved first, tucking the obnoxiously pink nail polish back into her cosmetics bag.
“Okay. No pink nail polish. No more questions either. Let’s just have a relaxing time.”
Megumi frowned, his face wrinkling in confusion, so much so that the eye masks nearly fell off his face.
“What?”
Tsumiki leaned into his side, pulling him into an awkward, one-armed hug, careful to keep her hand with wet nail polish away from Megumi’s clothes.
“We love you,” she mumbled. “You deserve to be treated gently all the time. You deserve someone who cares.”
Itadori texted him again a while later, once he’d changed into clean pajamas and crawled into the bed for the night, far earlier than he usually would. i didn’t know nanako hasaba was ur sister :0. A second text followed quickly. u looked so cute in that pic on her story w the sheet mask haha
Megumi forced his heart back into its home in his chest. Of course Itadori and Nanako knew each other. Nanako knew everyone.
Yeah, he replied, trying to steady his shaking hands, Nanako and I were raised by the same guardians so we’re kind of siblings. And thank you.
Was that too awkward? It was pretty awkward, but Megumi was never sure how to accept a compliment, and the fact that it was from Itadori just made it harder to handle.
ah i was thinking u two dont look alike, Itadori replied, following up quickly with a message that read: dw my familys weird so im not judging or anything like that
There’s no way your family is weirder than mine, Megumi answered. I have three siblings, two dads, and two aunts, and I’m not related to any of them.
lol u would be surprised
Megumi doubted that, rolling over to plug his phone into his charger. Recently, he felt like he couldn’t sleep enough, finding solace in a cocoon of blankets and pillows. Before he could settle in and close his eyes, though, his phone vibrated with another message from Itadori.
hey would u wanna hang out sometime this week? we can like share music and stuff idk haha
Megumi suppressed a smile. Sure. That would be nice.
That was how Megumi found himself on Itadori’s bed on a Tuesday evening, the same bed where Itadori had chased the rot from his neglected heart and fundamentally altered his perception of what it felt like to be kissed.
“So, um, did you have any specific songs in mind that you wanted to play or…?” Megumi asked, fumbling over his words, fumbling with the hem of his shirt, fumbling with his gaze as he tried to decide if he was ready to look into those warm brown eyes again.
“Why just me?” Itadori countered. “What about you?”
His gaze was burning a hole into the side of Megumi’s face. This was a mistake. Megumi was going to spontaneously combust right here on Itadori’s Spider-Man duvet.
No. He could do this. New friends were good.
“It was your idea, that’s why I asked.”
Megumi glanced out of the corner of his eye to see an almost imperceptible blush on Itadori’s cheeks.
“Ah…right, okay.”
Itadori fiddled with his phone and his speaker for a bit, and Megumi waited, his heart in his throat. This had to be a bad idea, returning to the scene of the crime, recreating the exact moment, their shoulders pressing into each other while Itadori queued songs. Maybe they should have just gone to get coffee or something. Or would that be worse? Too much like a date?
Fuck. It was hard to breathe in here. Itadori was taking up all the oxygen in the room. It was hard to focus, too, other than on Itadori’s toned arms flexing beneath his tee, or the way his body heat radiated off of him like a furnace.
“Fushiguro? You listening?”
“Sorry,” Megumi replied, embarrassed. “Can you say it again?”
Itadori grinned.
“No worries,” he said. “I was just saying that I tried to pick some songs I thought would be to your taste a bit. More on the gritty side, compared to other songs you’ve heard me play.”
“Alright.”
“This one kinda reminds me of you,” Itadori admitted. “Well, the chorus does anyway.”
Megumi tried to deflect the attention from his blush to a dry joke, or something, anything to bury his stupid feelings under.
“Second song you’ve said reminds you of me,” he commented. “You got a playlist about me or something?”
“Not yet.”
Megumi nearly choked on air, but Itadori paid him no mind, pressing play and shifting on the bed so his shoulder pressed firmer into Megumi’s. Megumi’s skin was buzzing from the contact, and his head was swimming more than it should.
They were just friends. He was here to listen to music, nothing else, and he should be listening to the lyrics, because Itadori was probably going to bring them up.
“Ah, it’s this part,” Itadori said. “The chorus. The rest is kinda not applicable, but this part really reminded me of you.”
And all I wanna know is just how far you wanna go…I wanna make it my business. I wanna tolerate drunk you, honey. I wanna make it my problem.
“It’s just…I don’t know, I want to be someone you can turn to if you need something.” Itadori’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet. “I just feel like you could use someone, and maybe that’s out of line for me to assume, but I’m happy to be that person for you.”
Megumi knew he was looking at Itadori like he had four arms, but he couldn’t stop himself.
“Why?” he asked, incredulous. “I mean, it’s not like I was exactly kind to you, so…why offer to go out of your way for me?”
Itadori shrugged.
“I like helping people. It’s what I do. That’s why I couldn’t just leave you at the bar the other night.” He rested his hand on Megumi’s leg, seemingly subconsciously. “Can I play you another song?”
Megumi glanced down at the hand on his knee. He wasn’t strong enough for this.
“Sure.”
Itadori left his hand on Megumi’s leg as he switched to the next song.
“I’m not sure why, but I thought maybe you’d like this one.”
Megumi hummed in response. Maybe Itadori was one of those people who was touchy with his friends, because there was no way someone like Itadori would purposefully try to rile up Megumi like this.
“This intro is nice,” he admitted.
Somehow, Itadori had managed to find songs that were both Megumi’s taste, and forced him to branch out into more modern music, which he typically refused to do. Somehow, it didn’t feel as agonizing when Itadori was the one guiding him through it.
Itadori’s thumb brushed over Megumi’s knee. He had to be doing this on purpose, trying to get Megumi to fold on his internal promise to stay friends and nothing more.
If that was the case, it was working.
And these lyrics…I’m in need of help, are you the one? To show me to myself, are you the one? Is it hesitance or is this feeling heaven sent? Staring at the sun, are you the one? Maybe Megumi was going to start an Itadori playlist before Itadori had the chance to make one for him.
“So you like it?”
Megumi nodded.
“I love it, actually.”
Itadori grinned, and Megumi wanted to bask in it.
“Sweet!” Itadori passed him his phone. “Your turn.”
Megumi hated that he loved when their fingers brushed past each other in the exchange.
“When did you start playing bass?” Itadori asked casually as Megumi queued his song of choice, “Only Happy When It Rains,” by Garbage.
“I was 12 and my parents wanted me to stop getting into trouble at school,” Megumi answered. “They told me I could pick any extracurricular I wanted, and I wasn’t about to join a sports team, so…it just kind of happened.”
“Ah,” Itadori said, grinning, “so you’ve always been the bad boy type.”
Megumi frowned.
“Am I the bad boy type?”
Probably, but Itadori had barely seen a fraction of Megumi’s life. Maybe Megumi was just that much of a hot mess.
“Kinda,” Itadori replied, “but it works for you. You’ve got these really pretty, angular features, and they suit the rebellious image. That’s probably why so many people want you.” His hand came up to cup Megumi’s face, gently thumbing over his cheek. “Lots of people are talking about you, y’know. The hot bassist from Nobara & the Hammerstrikers.”
Megumi knew that Itadori could feel his face burning. He felt trapped, caught between the urge to lean in and kiss Itadori, against his better judgment, and the urge to get up, run out the door, and block Yuuji Itadori’s number.
Instead, he let himself be paralyzed.
“Interesting.”
He dropped his gaze, no longer able to meet Itadori’s eyes, so full of sincere affection that it made his stomach turn, a mix of butterflies and bitter nausea.
You can keep me company as long as you don’t care, I’m only happy when it rains. You wanna hear about my new obsession? I’m riding high upon a deep depression. I’m only happy when it rains.
Before Megumi could properly react, Itadori’s hand dropped from his face, cutting the tension between them.
“Sorry,” he murmured. “Let my emotions get the best of me there. I know you just want to be friends.”
“It’s fine,” Megumi breathed, though he wasn’t even sure if that was what he wanted anymore. “Don’t worry about it.”
“I’m home.”
Megumi kicked off his shoes at the door, hearing the murmur of the TV in the living room. As he wandered in, Geto grabbed the remote, pausing the show he and Gojo were watching with Nanaki.
“There’s dinner in the fridge for you,” he said. “Where have you been?”
“At a friend’s house.”
He opened the fridge, taking out the plate Geto had left for him and sticking it into the microwave.
“Which friend?” Nanako asked curiously. “Itadori?”
“Who’s Itadori?” Gojo wondered aloud. “Is that the boy who walked you home on Friday?”
Megumi shot Nanako a glare.
“What did you tell them?” he demanded.
She threw up her hands in defense.
“Nothing, nothing,” she replied. “But you were with him, right?”
Megumi nodded, turning around to grab some utensils and stop the microwave before it made that godawful jingle that he despised so much.
“You visited a boy sober and on a weekday?” she asked. “That’s not like you. So how was it?”
He shrugged, digging into his food.
“We’re just friends, so it’s not that weird. We hung out and listened to music.”
Gojo and Geto exchanged an annoyingly knowing glance.
“Back in the day, your dad and I–” Gojo started to say.
“I said we’re just friends. Nothing else.”