Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The house was quiet when Yuuji returned home, uncomfortably so. None of the usual sounds of life were present—the soft hum of the refrigerator, the murmur of the tv playing one of Junpei’s favorite old films, the faint shuffle of socked feet across hardwood floors. It wasn’t the normal quiet that meant Junpei had gotten lost in editing with his headphones on, or fallen asleep waiting for him. This felt hollow.

Yuuji paused just inside the doorway, one hand still on the knob, brow furrowing as the silence pressed in on him. The air smelled faintly of cleaner—sharp, lemony, and sterile. 

“Junpei?” he called lightly, forcing a teasing lilt into his voice. “I’m home!”

No answer.

Usually Junpei would respond immediately. A soft “Welcome back,” drifting from the couch. Or a distracted “Give me five minutes,” from upstairs. Or sometimes he’d appear around the corner, hair all messy, offering that small shy smile that still made Yuuji’s chest feel too tight even after seven years.

Today, nothing.

Yuuji slipped off his shoes and stepped further inside, heartbeat beginning to drum faintly in his ears. Junpei’s camera sat on the couch. The strap was neatly coiled beside it, lens cap secured. The coffee table was wiped clean. No open notebooks. No half-finished cup of tea. No editing laptop humming softly. Even the throw blanket was folded. 

“…Junpei?” Yuuji tried again, voice losing some of its brightness.

He crossed the living room slowly, fingertips brushing the back of the couch as if grounding himself. The house felt wrong under his skin. He headed for the stairs. Each step creaked under his weight—old wood protesting, the sound too loud in the silence.

“Junpei?” His voice echoed faintly upward as he reached the second floor. He checked their bedroom first, pushing the door open carefully. The curtains were drawn halfway, letting in soft moonlight that cast long pale shadows across the floor. But no Junpei.

Yuuji’s pulse ticked faster.

He checked the bathroom—empty.

“Junpei?” The name cracked a little now.

He hurried back into the hallway and took the stairs two at a time up to the third floor, the boards groaning louder beneath him. He checked the movie room first. The projector was off. The blackout curtains were half-drawn. But there was no Junpei curled up in the beanbag chair with that distant look in his eyes.

“Babe?” His voice sounded thinner now, stretched tight with unease. He crossed to the spare bedroom. The door swung open with a soft click.

Empty.

“If this is part of your next film project,” Yuuji called, attempting a shaky laugh, “you can get the jumpscare over with!” Silence answered him.

A cold prickle crept up his spine. Junpei wasn’t the type to pull pranks, and he certainly wouldn’t drag one out like this. He also wasn’t the type to leave the house without telling him, especially not today. Yuuji rushed back down to the second floor, checking every door in a blur—guest bathroom, study, linen closet. Nothing.

“Seriously, you’re really freaking me out…” he shouted, breath starting to come uneven. 

He pulled out his phone with trembling fingers and dialed Junpei’s number. Yuuji stood perfectly still in the hallway, straining to hear the familiar ringtone echoing somewhere in the house.

Nothing.

The call rang and rang before clicking to voicemail. “Hey, it’s Junpei. I probably have my hands full right now. Leave a message?”

“Junpei, where are you?” Yuuji muttered. He rushed downstairs again, nearly stumbling in his haste. He headed straight for the back door and flung it open. Cool air hit his face.

The garden stretched wide and empty behind the house. Carefully trimmed hedges. The koi pond shimmering faintly in the late light. The small bench beneath the Sakura trees where Junpei liked to sit and write.

Empty.

“Junpei!” Yuuji called, voice breaking. Nothing answered him but the wind. The Sakura branches swayed gently, petals drifting lazily to the ground like pink snow. The pond water rippled softly. The world continued on, indifferent. “Junpei, are you out here?” he shouted again, stepping off the patio.

He looked toward the side gate. Locked.

Yuuji’s fingers felt clumsy as he pulled his phone back out. For a second, he just stared at the screen. His reflection looked pale. He scrolled to another contact and hit call. It rang three times before they answered. 

“Itadori,” Megumi’s voice came through calm and even. The faint background ambience of restless shelter animals filtered through the line. “You know I have a night shift tonight. You really shouldn’t be distracting me.” There was no real irritation in his tone.

“Sorry, Fushiguro,” Yuuji said quickly, breath hitching slightly. “This is important, I promise. You were with Junpei earlier, right? Did he say anything about going somewhere?”

There was a brief pause on the other end.

“It’s just that he’s not at the house,” Yuuji rushed on. “And I’m getting kinda worried. This isn’t like him.”

“Yeah,” Megumi replied smoothly. “I was there. But that was hours ago.”

“And he didn’t say anything?” Yuuji pressed, pacing now. “About going out?”

“No.” Another small pause. “But…” Megumi added thoughtfully.

Yuuji stopped pacing. “But what?”

“I will say he felt a bit… off from normal.”

The words sank into Yuuji’s chest like a stone. “Off?” he echoed.

“Yeah.” Megumi’s tone shifted to concerned reflection. “Like he was… I don’t know, thinking really hard about something.”

Yuuji swallowed.

“He just seemed distracted,” Megumi continued. “Quieter than usual. I asked if everything was okay and he said he was fine… but it didn’t feel convincing.”

Yuuji’s heart started racing again. Junpei had been fine that morning. Hadn’t he? They’d eaten breakfast together. Junpei had laughed when Yuuji spilled orange juice on the counter. He’d kissed Yuuji goodbye before he left for work. It was all so… normal. 

“…Oh,” Yuuji said quietly. A thousand thoughts spiraled at once. “Thanks, Fushiguro,” he added. “I’ll text you when I find him.”

“Of course,” Megumi said gently. “Call me if you need help.”

The line clicked dead.

Yuuji lowered the phone slowly, staring at nothing. “Thinking really hard about something?” he murmured to himself. What did that even mean? Yuuji headed back inside.

 The house still felt wrong. 

Did something happen? Had Yuuji missed a sign? A shift in Junpei’s mood? Junpei did have depressive episodes sometimes, but he always told Yuuji when that happened. Always. They’d promised each other no more suffering in silence. But if things had gotten too bad, could the worst have—

Yuuji’s breath hitched violently. “No.” He shook his head hard, as if he could physically fling the thought away. “No. Don’t be stupid.”

Junpei wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. Not without talking to him. Not without leaving something more than silence. 

Right?

Were there any rooms he hadn’t checked? Any blind spots he was overlooking? He hadn’t properly searched the first floor or the kitchen, though he doubted Junpei could have been in one of those rooms and not heard Yuuji calling out to him. 

Unless he was unconscious. Unless he was–

The thought slammed into him so hard it made him dizzy. Yuuji bolted toward the hallway, flinging open doors again with renewed urgency.

First floor bathroom—empty.

The storage room—empty.

The first floor bedroom—empty.

The coat closet— Nothing.

“Junpei!” His voice cracked. He moved toward the kitchen, dread pooling in his stomach. Something sat on the stove. The burner was off, but when he hovered his hand above the pot, he could still feel warmth radiating faintly upward.

It hadn’t fully gone cold. But it wasn’t piping hot either. It had to have been turned off fairly recently.

His eyes scanned the counter. A cutting board sat beside the sink, knife neatly washed and placed to dry. Vegetables had been chopped—some still sitting in a bowl nearby. Two plates were set on the table.

Dinner had been in progress.

“I should try and call him again…” Yuuji muttered to himself, voice thin and unsteady as he moved toward the dining table. His legs felt weak. Every step was slightly off-balance, like the floor beneath him had shifted a few inches to the left without warning. His thoughts were racing too fast to grab onto, he needed to sit down.

He gripped the back of one of the dining chairs and pulled it out, intending to lower himself into it before his knees gave out completely. That’s when he saw it. A small, rectangular piece of paper resting at the center of the table.

A note.

Yuuji stumbled forward so quickly the chair legs screeched against the floor. He nearly tripped over himself reaching for it. ‘Please be okay,’ he thought as he grabbed the paper with trembling fingers. ‘Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be—’

His thoughts shattered.

The words blurred for a second before snapping into cruel clarity.

“Yuuji, things are bad between us. They have been for a while and I just never had the courage to say it. But I can’t take it anymore. 

I’m done. 

I’m leaving now so I don’t have to see you beg me to stay. I won’t be coming back, and I don’t want you looking for me. I don’t want to see you ever again.

It’s over.”

The world seemed to tilt.

“What…” Yuuji whispered aloud. The word scraped out of his throat like something broken. His eyes dragged over the sentences again.

And again.

And again.

Reading it over and over didn’t change what was written, but he couldn’t stop. If he read it enough times, maybe the letters would rearrange themselves into something that made sense. Maybe he’d misunderstood. Maybe the phrasing would soften. Maybe there would be some hidden joke he’d missed. 

His hands started shaking so badly the paper rustled loudly in the silent room. He lowered it slowly back onto the table, like it might explode if he moved too fast. That’s when he processed it, the single silver ring, right where the note had been.

Yuuji’s heart stopped.

“No… no, this isn’t…” His voice cracked violently. He reached for it with hesitant fingers, like it might burn him. “He wouldn’t just—”

 Megumi’s words rushed to the front of his mind. “he felt a bit off from normal…like he was… thinking really hard about something.”

Yuuji’s stomach dropped. Was this what he’d been thinking about? Leaving? For how long?

“Junpei?” Yuuji’s voice rose suddenly, sharp and panicked. He shot up so quickly the chair toppled backward behind him with a loud crash. “Junpei?! Are you still here?” he shouted again, like the note might have been some kind of twisted test.

“Babe, please just talk to me!” His voice was frantic now, raw with desperation. “I—I don’t know what I did wrong, but we can work this out, right?!” He bolted for the stairs, heart hammering painfully against his ribs. Back to the bedroom. He threw the door open so hard it hit the wall.

His eyes scanned the room wildly, and this time he saw it. The subtle disarray. Drawers slightly ajar. The closet door not fully closed. Hangers spaced wider than before.

His pulse pounded in his ears. He crossed the room in three strides and yanked open the dresser drawers. Empty spaces. Junpei’s favorite sweaters were gone. Some of his jeans. A few shirts. The overnight bag they kept tucked in the back of the closet was missing. Someone had rummaged through.

Junpei had—

No. No, this couldn’t be happening. Yuuji stumbled back a step. Junpei wouldn’t leave like this. He wouldn’t leave so much behind.

The movie collection was still intact on the shelves upstairs. The limited-edition figurines Junpei adored were still displayed carefully in their glass case. And the camera, he’d left his camera. Junpei wouldn’t abandon that. And he wouldn’t abandon—

Yuuji’s throat tightened painfully. He wouldn’t abandon him. Right?

Yuuji fumbled for his phone again and dialed Junpei’s number for the second time.

It rang. 

And rang. 

And rang.

Voicemail. Again. This time he didn’t hesitate.

“Junpei,” he started, and his voice immediately broke. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to continue. “I… I read your note, but I don’t understand where this is coming from.” His breath hitched audibly. “Please just call me back. If… if you really want to leave, then… I—I won’t stop you, but I need to hear you explain. Please. Just tell me what I did wrong.”

Tears spilled down his face unchecked.

“I’ll fix it. Whatever it is, I’ll fix it. I promise. Just—just don’t disappear like this.” His thumb hovered over the screen for a second before he ended the call. The silence that followed felt heavier than before.

Yuuji lowered his hand slowly, the phone slipping from his fingers onto the mattress as he turned and sat on the edge of the bed. 

Tonight was supposed to be good. It was their four-year wedding anniversary. He’d hidden a gift in the trunk of his car—a brand-new filming camera Junpei had been eyeing for months. He’d planned dinner. They were supposed to be celebrating. 

Seven years together, four of them married. And now—

“Things are bad between us. They have been for a while and I just never had the courage to say it”

Yuuji’s chest felt like it was being crushed from the inside. Had he missed it? Had Junpei really been unhappy this whole time? A broken sound escaped him before he could stop it. He collapsed fully onto the bed, curling slightly on his side, pressing his face into the pillow that still faintly smelled like Junpei’s shampoo.

The scent made it worse. Everything made it worse.

His shoulders began to shake as sobs overtook him. He clutched at the fabric of the comforter as if it could anchor him, as if holding on tightly enough might somehow rewind the day. But nothing changed.

The ring was still downstairs.

The note was still on the table.

Junpei was still gone.

The house was still too quiet. 

And in that suffocating quiet, all Yuuji could do was cry.

~~~~

Megumi replayed the voicemail for the fifth time. Junpei’s recorded greeting came first, then Yuuji’s broken voice.

“I read your note but… I don’t understand where this is coming from…”

Megumi leaned back in his chair, one leg crossed over the other, the fluorescent light of the animal shelter casting long shadows across the floor. A slow, dark smile spread across his face. 

Yuuji had called Junpei’s phone half an hour ago, and since then he’d sent twenty-three text messages. Each one more frantic than the last. Some long and desperate. Some short and pleading. Some nothing but, “Please answer. Please.”

Things had gone perfectly. Although for a moment earlier, Megumi had worried he might need to switch methods. The cleanup had taken longer than anticipated. That part had been his own fault. 

He had planned for efficiency. Strangle him, stage the disappearance, leave the note, remove select belongings, done. But he had ended up getting carried away in the heat of the moment. How could he not? Junpei had been standing there, wearing that soft cardigan Yuuji loved, mocking him. 

Megumi’s fingers tightened around the phone as his mind drifted back. He’d remember that moment for the rest of his life.

Junpei had invited him over that afternoon to help with his latest short film project, and Megumi agreed instantly. 

He had planned everything down to the minute. The window of time between when Yuuji left work and when he was due home. The fact that the neighbors were distant and rarely paid attention. The fact that Junpei trusted him. He could do it. He could finally eliminate the seven-year-long thorn lodged in his side.

But after he arrived, as he watched Junpei bustling around preparing dinner—setting the table carefully for two, tasting sauce from the pot—his resolve had wavered. 

Today was important to Yuuji. He’d been glowing all week, talking about the present he was going to give Junpei, smiling to himself like an idiot almost constantly. Megumi had felt something twist in his chest at the thought of leaving Yuuji heartbroken. ‘You can’t ruin this for him,’ he’d told himself. ‘Yuuji’s happiness is what matters. You’ll be happy as long as he’s happy.’ 

He watched Junpei step outside briefly to film the Sakura blossoms. Watched him hum absentmindedly while reviewing footage. Watched him live the life that should have been his. 

Megumi had almost left with his hands clean. He’d packed his bag, he’d started to walk to the doorway, and then… something snapped. 

He couldn’t keep doing this. Couldn’t keep lying to himself. He couldn’t keep pretending that watching Yuuji belong to someone else was enough. Every single day that passed with Yuuji smiling at Junpei, touching Junpei, loving Junpei, was driving him closer to the edge.

It had been seven years. Seven years of standing just slightly outside the circle of their life together. Seven years too many.

Megumi wasn’t sure when he’d taken the knife. He didn’t remember crossing the room. He didn’t remember deciding to end the night with bloodshed. He only remembered speaking. 

“Junpei,” he said evenly. “About Yuuji. I… there’s something I need to tell you.”

Junpei looked up from the computer, pushing his hair behind his ear. “Huh?” he’d said lightly. “You guys aren’t having an affair, are you?”

Megumi blinked. “What?”

Junpei laughed once, short and humorless. “Well, you sound pretty serious, and it’s obvious how into him you are, that’s totally how it looks.” The words hung in the air. Junpei’s expression shifted slowly. “That’s… not actually what’s going on, is it?”

Megumi felt something cold settle into his bones. “No…” he answered slowly. “What do you mean by ‘it’s obvious how into him I am’?” 

Junpei tilted his head, studying him. “Well, you… you have feelings for Yuuji, don’t you?” he asked, almost casually. Like it was an interesting observation. Like it wasn’t the most sacred, fragile, explosive truth in Megumi’s world. “I mean,” Junpei continued, leaning back in his chair, “you think I never noticed how much you stare at him?”

Megumi remembered the heat that rushed to his face. The way his grip tightened around the knife handle behind his back.

Junpei smiled faintly then. “It’s kind of hard not to notice,” Junpei added quietly. “You look at him like he’s the only person in the room.”

The pot bubbled softly on the stove. The sakura petals drifted outside the window. Megumi’s chest felt like it was splitting open.

“You’re not subtle,” Junpei continued, almost conversationally. “But you are Yuuji’s childhood friend, and you’ve never crossed a line, and I trust Yuuji, so it’s fine.”

Fine. Fine?! Megumi’s mind echoed the word like a gunshot, a violent mix of humiliation and rage tightening every muscle in his body. “…So you’ve known this whole time…” he muttered. His voice didn’t sound like his own. 

Junpei blinked at him, confused by the sudden shift in tone. “Yeah, but it’s not like I—”

“You’ve known,” Megumi cut in sharply, stepping closer without realizing it. “And you still invited me over? Today of all days?”

Junpei frowned. “What are you talking about?”

The living room suddenly felt too small.

“So you’re just rubbing it in, is that it?” Megumi demanded, voice rising. “Bragging about the fact that you stole Yuuji from me?”

Junpei’s expression shifted from confusion to disbelief. “Stole him?” he repeated. “Fushiguro, what are you even saying?”

Megumi’s grip tightened around the knife hidden behind his back. His fingers were trembling now, though he couldn’t tell if it was from anger or adrenaline. “You think I don’t see it?” Megumi’s voice shook. “You parading your relationship in front of me. Inviting me here. Making me watch you play house with him.”

Junpei slowly began edging sideways along the couch, creating distance. “I didn’t invite you to ‘play house,’” Junpei said carefully. “You said you wanted to help with the filming.”

“You knew how I felt.”

“I knew you had feelings for him,” Junpei corrected gently. “But I didn’t think you were this unstable.”

The word hit like a slap. Megumi crossed the remaining distance in two strides and grabbed Junpei’s wrist before he could retreat further. “You… you have no idea how horrible you’ve made my life for the past seven years,” Megumi hissed.

Junpei winced as Megumi’s fingers dug into his skin. “H-hey, let go—”

“Watching you put your dirty hands all over my Yuuji,” Megumi spat, voice cracking with something dangerously close to despair. “Tainting him. Hoarding affection you never deserved.”

“Yuuji isn’t an object you can claim–”

“He’s mine,” Megumi shot back. With shaking hands, he brought the knife into view. The stainless steel catching the light.

The air changed instantly.

“…Fushiguro,” Junpei breathed, fear finally, fully present in his voice.

“I won’t let you have him any longer,” Megumi whispered, almost tenderly. “Yuuji is mine.”

Junpei wrenched his wrist free with a sudden burst of strength and stumbled backward. He turned to run. He didn’t get far.

Megumi lunged. The blade met flesh with a sickening, resistance-filled push. A direct slice across the abdomen.

Junpei gasped—a sharp, stunned sound—as blood bloomed instantly through his shirt. He staggered, clutching his stomach. Red dripped between his fingers. He looked down in disbelief. As if he couldn’t quite process what had just happened.

Megumi stood a few feet away, chest heaving, then he smiled. “Yuuji is mine,” he repeated softly.

Junpei snapped out of his shock and bolted down the hallway, leaving a staggered trail of blood across the hardwood. Megumi followed immediately. The metallic scent filled the air. Junpei’s breathing grew ragged as he slipped slightly on his own blood, crashing into the wall before trying to regain his footing. He made it halfway down the hall before Megumi tackled him from behind. They hit the floor hard.

“Fushiguro! Stop!” Junpei choked out, trying desperately to push him off. “Yon need to calm down!”

Megumi’s laughter spilled out of him then, completely manic. It echoed down the hallway in sharp bursts. “Don’t worry,” Megumi crooned, voice slurring. “I’ll take goooood care of Yuuji. I’ll love him better than you eeeever could.”

Junpei tried to shove him away, hands slipping on blood. “Please—”

The knife rose and came down straight into Junpei’s chest. The sound was wet. Megumi pulled it out, then drove it down again.

And again.

And again.

Each strike more forceful than the last. Fueled by years of resentment, by the nights spent staring at the ceiling imagining a different life, by every time Yuuji smiled at someone else. Blood splattered across the walls, across the floor, all over Megumi’s sleeves.

Junpei’s resistance weakened, then stopped. But Megumi didn’t, not immediately. He only came back to himself when his arm began to ache. When his breathing burned. When the sound of the knife hitting bone felt distant. He blinked. 

The manic grin faded slowly. Beneath him, Junpei was no longer recognizable in any meaningful way. His upper torso was a mangled ruin of red and torn fabric. “Oh,” Megumi murmured, tilting his head slightly. His voice was calm again. “This might have been too much.”

He sat back on his heels, staring at the destruction. This hadn’t been the plan. How much time had passed? Megumi glanced at the clock on the wall. He did a quick calculation in his head. Yuuji would be home within the hour, he needed to move.

Megumi stood slowly, stepping carefully around the spreading pool of blood. His mind shifted gears with unsettling ease. He already had most of the things he needed in the car. He just had to clean up the mess then, proceed with the original plan.

His gaze flickered briefly back to the body, and his eyes landed on the silver ring on Junpei’s finger. Megumi quickly removed it and held it up to the light. He wanted to keep it for himself, he’d more than earned it at this point but… his plan would be more convincing if it never left the house. 

Megumi exhaled. “Fine,” he said quietly to himself. “You can keep it a bit longer, but I still won.”

A sharp vibration cut through the quiet. Megumi blinked, pulled from the pleasant haze of memory. Another notification. He glanced down at Junpei’s phone in his hand. Yuuji again. The screen lit up with a preview. 

Yuuji: Please, please talk to me! You can just text if you don’t want to call.

A second notification arrived seconds later.

Yuuji: I love you, you know that. I can’t possibly move on like this!

Megumi’s smile faded slightly at that. He wasn’t naïve enough to believe that a single note and abandoned ring would undo seven years of love overnight. But some irrational part of him had imagined Yuuji’s heartbreak unfolding in a simpler way. This was more intense than anticipated. More stubborn.

Megumi frowned thoughtfully, thumb hovering over the screen.

Step one would be to position himself as the safe place. Yuuji had already called him earlier. That gave him a free opening. Megumi could return the call under the guise of concern. He would ask if everything was okay. He would let Yuuji talk, let him spiral, let him cry and then he would offer to come over.

He needed to be the first shoulder Yuuji leaned on. The first voice of comfort. The first presence filling the empty space Junpei had left behind. Of course he couldn’t rush it. If he pushed too hard, Yuuji might recoil. If he framed Junpei too negatively too quickly, Yuuji might defend him. The abandonment narrative needed to settle in first.

Megumi looked down at the phone again as another notification buzzed weakly.

Yuuji: Please answer me

Megumi’s thumb hovered over the keyboard. Should he respond? A short message could deepen the wound. Something that reinforced the idea that Junpei truly meant what he wrote. But… Junpei had a specific voice. If Megumi wrote something even slightly off, Yuuji would notice and he might start suspecting things. No, silence was better. Silence forced Yuuji to fill in the blanks himself. He would interpret the lack of response as finality. 

Megumi turned the phone over in his hand, studying it. He really should get rid of it. It was incriminating evidence after all. Even if he’d staged everything carefully, leaving this intact too long was reckless. But… He unlocked it again, scrolling through the photo gallery. Megumi’s breath caught faintly.

Yuuji laughing on the couch.

Yuuji asleep with his mouth slightly open.

Yuuji standing under the Sakura trees, sunlight catching in his hair.

Junpei had captured so many sides of him, so many moments Megumi hadn’t been there for. He felt a brief flare of irritation. Those moments should have been his all along. Still, at least he could salvage them. Discarding the phone would have to wait until after he got those pictures transferred to his phone.

A faint beeping sound interrupted his thoughts. Megumi’s eyes flicked toward the hallway. The incinerator alarm. He stood smoothly and walked toward it, movements calm and unhurried. He turned off the alarm and opened the small viewing window. Inside, there was nothing left but gray ash and faint residual heat.

Junpei Yoshino was gone in every physical sense, and Megumi would make sure that the memory of him followed suit. 

~~~~

His phone rang at exactly 2:03 AM. The sound cut through the suffocating silence like a blade. Yuuji had been lying on his side, fully clothed, staring at nothing. He hadn’t slept. He hadn’t even really blinked. His eyes burned from crying, his head pounded, and his body felt like it weighed twice as much as it normally did. But the moment that first note of his ringtone sounded he shot upright. Hope exploded in his chest so violently it almost hurt.

He lunged for the nightstand, nearly knocking the lamp over in his haste. He didn’t check the caller ID. He didn’t need to. He didn’t want to risk the hope flickering out before he could answer. He swiped to accept the call, breath already shaking.

“Junpei?!” he gasped. “Babe, please! Just tell me what’s going on, I—I don’t understand!” His voice cracked immediately. He pressed the phone tighter to his ear, as if physical pressure could keep the connection from breaking. “I’ll listen, okay? Just—just talk to me.”

There was a pause. A short, heavy stretch of silence. Yuuji’s heart began to race.

“…Um. Sorry,” the voice said quietly. “This is Megumi.”

“Oh,” Yuuji breathed. The word came out hollow. He slowly sank back down to sit on the edge of the bed, shoulders slumping.

On the other end of the line, Megumi let concern bleed into his tone. “I’m guessing that means you haven’t found him yet?” he asked gently. “I got worried when you didn’t text me back, but I didn’t want to assume the worst. After all… you two might have just been busy with your anniversary celebrations.”

Anniversary. The word hit Yuuji like a punch to the chest. His throat closed up. “He—” The sound that came out was barely a word. He swallowed hard and tried again. “Junpei… he…” The tears started all over again. “He left me,” Yuuji choked out.

The words felt unreal even as he said them.

“I don’t understand why!” His breathing grew uneven, hitching between syllables. “He left this note saying things were bad between us but—but he didn’t say what! And now he won’t answer my calls or text back or—or anything!” His voice fractured completely. He pressed his free hand to his mouth to try and muffle the sobs, but they kept breaking through anyway.

“Oh…” Megumi said softly after a beat. “I’m sorry.”

The simplicity of it made Yuuji cry harder. “H-He didn’t say anything to you earlier? Like where he might go or…” Yuuji asked desperately, wiping at his eyes with the heel of his palm even though it didn’t help. “D-did you say anything to him that could’ve pushed him to—” He stopped himself abruptly. “N-no, sorry. I shouldn’t blame you. I just—I don’t know what’s happening.” His voice trembled violently. “I just can’t believe he would just… leave.”

“He did seem off,” Megumi said carefully. “I told you that earlier.”

Yuuji sniffed shakily.

“Maybe he’d been holding something in for a while,” Megumi suggested softly. “Sometimes people don’t know how to talk about things when they think the other person won’t accept it.”

Yuuji’s breath hitched again. “I would’ve listened to him,” he insisted weakly. “If something was wrong, I would’ve fixed it. I would’ve done anything.”

“I know,” Megumi replied quietly. There was a long pause before his spoke again, “I’m coming over,” he said suddenly.

Yuuji blinked. “W-what? No, you don’t have to—”

“I’m coming over,” Megumi repeated, firmer this time. “You sound like you could use some company.”

Yuuji hesitated. It was late, but the house was so quiet. So empty. Every creak of wood sounded like footsteps that never arrived. Every shadow looked like a memory. The bed felt enormous without Junpei beside him. “I don’t want to be alone,” Yuuji admitted in a small voice.

“I’ll be there soon,” Megumi said.

“Didn’t you just finish work?” Yuuji asked faintly, still caught in the haze of shock. “You’re probably tired right, shouldn’t you–”

“I’ll manage,” Megumi replied smoothly.

There was another silence.

“He left his ring,” Yuuji whispered suddenly, like confessing something shameful. “He left it on the table.”

“Did he?” Megumi murmured.

“Why would he do that?” Yuuji’s voice cracked again. “Why would he just… give up on us like that?” Yuuji let out a broken sob. “I don’t want to believe he doesn’t love me anymore, but— but I…”

“You don’t have to decide what to believe tonight,” Megumi said quietly. “Just… breathe. I’ll be there as fast as I can.”

Yuuji nodded even though Megumi couldn’t see it. “Okay.”

The call ended and Yuuji lowered the phone slowly, staring at the blank screen. His chest still hurt. His eyes still burned. Junpei was still gone. But at least he wouldn’t be alone in the silence anymore.

Chapter Text

Megumi’s car rolled to a stop in front of Yuuji’s house at exactly 2:58 AM. He had driven as fast as he dared without attracting attention. Every red light felt like a personal insult, still he forced himself to obey traffic laws. The chances of an officer waiting to catch speeders at this hour were low, but not impossible.

When he finally turned into the driveway, the house looked different from earlier. More… hollow. Megumi cut the engine and stepped out before the headlights had fully dimmed. The cool night air hit his face, but he barely registered it. His heart was beating harder than it should have been. “Yuuji! It’s Megumi! I’m here!”

There was shuffling inside then the door swung open. And for a split second, Megumi forgot to breathe. Yuuji looked wrecked. His eyes were swollen and red. His lips were dry and cracked. His shirt was wrinkled, collar slightly stretched as if he’d been tugging at it in distress.

The second Yuuji’s gaze landed on him, something in his expression shattered. “Megumi—” He didn’t finish the sentence. He just stepped forward and collapsed into him. Megumi caught him instantly.

Yuuji’s body slammed into his chest, arms wrapping tightly around his torso as if Megumi were the only thing keeping him upright, and then he cried. Ugly and desperate. His shoulders shook violently as he buried his face against Megumi’s chest.

Megumi’s arms came around him automatically. He ushered him back inside with one hand, gently nudging the door closed behind them with his foot. The house felt colder than before.

Megumi inhaled subtly. There was no lingering metallic scent, no trace of what had transpired just hours ago. Good. He tightened his hold around Yuuji and rubbed a slow, soothing hand along his back. “It’s okay,” he murmured softly. “I’m here.” Inside, his pulse thundered with something dangerously close to triumph.

When was the last time Yuuji had held him like this? When was the last time he had been the one Yuuji clung to in distress?

They moved together toward the living room, Yuuji barely lifting his feet properly as Megumi guided him. The couch loomed ahead in the dim light. “Sit,” Megumi said gently.

Yuuji sank down onto the couch and, without hesitation, turned and folded himself into Megumi’s lap as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Megumi’s breath caught.

Yuuji curled against him, face pressed into his chest again, knees tucked slightly inward. His hands gripped Megumi’s shirt tightly, like he was afraid he might disappear too. And he cried.

And cried.

And cried.

“I don’t—” Yuuji’s voice broke. “I don’t understand! Why– why would he—” His words tangled together, incoherent, dissolving into breathless sobs. His sentences never finished. They bled into each other, “what did I do” and “I would’ve fixed it” and “seven years” and “he left his ring.”

Megumi’s hand continued its slow motion up and down Yuuji’s back. Yuuji was warm. So warm. His body fit against Megumi’s like it belonged there. Megumi bit down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep from making a sound. This was perfect. 

Yuuji was holding him so tightly. Seeking him. Relying on him. The weight of him pressed against Megumi’s thighs, his breath damp against his shirt. Megumi’s heart raced wildly in his chest. His body felt feverish. A heat coiled low in his stomach that had nothing to do with comfort.

Oh, this was bad. He couldn’t react like this. Not now. If he let himself slip he could ruin everything he’d planned. Megumi shifted slightly, adjusting Yuuji away from the… problem area.

“Hey,” he murmured softly, tilting his head down so his lips brushed close to Yuuji’s hair. “Breathe, okay? Just breathe.” Megumi pressed his palm between Yuuji’s shoulder blades, grounding him. “In,” he guided quietly. “And out.”

Yuuji’s fingers tightened in Megumi’s shirt as if bracing against something invisible. “He said things were bad,” he choked out. “But he always seemed so happy with me… I thought I was doing things right.”

Megumi kept his breathing slow and measured. “Sometimes people convince themselves things are worse than they are,” he repeated gently. “Especially if they’re already unhappy with themselves.”

Yuuji sniffed shakily, shoulders trembling. “I should’ve noticed,” he insisted weakly. “Maybe I’ve been spending too much time at work…” His voice thinned with guilt. “Even today, I—I thought about coming home early to surprise him. Maybe I should have… maybe if I did I could’ve stopped him!” The tears surged again, harder this time.

Megumi felt Yuuji collapse further into him, as though the weight of that regret was physically crushing him. He lowered his chin slightly, resting his cheek against the top of Yuuji’s head. “You’re not responsible for someone else walking away,” he said softly.

Yuuji made a broken sound and pressed himself closer, fingers curling tighter into the fabric at Megumi’s chest.

Megumi’s pulse spiked. He’d been luckier than he thought. If Yuuji had come home early, if he had stepped through that door thirty minutes sooner… Megumi forced the thought away. He didn’t want to imagine that version of events. Blood still wet. The scene unfinished. Yuuji walking in and seeing him… like that. Yuuji would hate him forever. He’d–

Yuuji shifted in his lap, trying to get comfortable, his weight adjusting as exhaustion dragged at him. Megumi sucked in a sharp, involuntary breath when Yuuji’s movement brushed against his lower half. Heat flared through him instantly. Yuuji, however, seemed completely oblivious.

He sniffed and rubbed at his eyes with the back of his hand. “Sorry if my crying is making you uncomfortable,” he said hoarsely.

Megumi looked away quickly, focusing on the dim hallway instead of Yuuji’s face. “No, it’s… fine,” he said, his voice steadier than he felt. He subtly adjusted his posture, angling his hips away just enough to create space without making the movement obvious.

This was not the time.

Megumi slid one hand up to cradle the back of Yuuji’s head, fingers threading lightly into his hair. “You don’t have to apologize,” he murmured. “You’re going through a lot right now.”

Yuuji’s breathing began to slow slightly, though it still hitched occasionally. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now,” he whispered. “Everything feels… empty.” Yuuji let out a shaky breath that trembled on the way out. “I feel so stupid,” he muttered, staring down at the fabric of Megumi’s shirt twisted in his fists. “He thought things were bad and I didn’t even know. How could I have been so blind? What kind of husband am I?”

Megumi hesitated just long enough to make it seem like he was choosing honesty over instinct, then he allowed the faintest edge to slip into his voice. “If something was wrong,” he said carefully, “he should’ve talked to you. Leaving without explaining isn’t fair.” Yuuji’s grip tightened at that, as if the words gave shape to something he hadn’t dared articulate himself. Megumi’s thumb traced slow, grounding circles against Yuuji’s back. “You deserved better,” he added softly.

Yuuji’s head tilted up slightly. Their faces were closer now. Close enough that Megumi could see the faint red veins threading through Yuuji’s swollen eyes. Close enough to notice how his lashes clumped together from dried tears. Close enough to feel the warmth of his breath brush faintly across his collarbone.

For a split second, something electric flickered between them. Megumi felt it, and immediately crushed it. ‘Not yet.’ he thought ‘You’ve waited seven years. Don’t ruin it now.’

Yuuji dropped his gaze again, unaware of the current that had passed between them. “I don’t want to sleep,” he admitted quietly. “If I sleep it feels like it’ll make it real.”

Megumi considered that. “You don’t have to sleep,” he said gently. “But you should lie down.”

Yuuji hesitated. “Would you… stay the night?” he asked softly. 

There it was.

Megumi’s heart kicked hard against his ribs. “Of course,” he answered without missing a beat.

Relief flickered across Yuuji’s face. He slowly untangled himself from Megumi’s lap, though one hand remained hooked into the sleeve of Megumi’s shirt like an anchor line he refused to release.

“Um… there’s a bunch of spare rooms,” Yuuji explained unevenly, wiping at his face again. “You can pick whichever one you like.”

Megumi’s eyes flicked toward the staircase briefly. “Do you want to stay in one with me?” he asked carefully. “We can make it a sleepover. Just like back in middle school.”

Yuuji paused. For a moment Megumi wondered if he’d overstepped. Then Yuuji gave a small nod.

“…Okay.”

They moved together down the hallway to one of the first-floor guest bedrooms. Yuuji stopped just inside the doorway. He stared at the smooth, untouched sheets like they were something foreign.

Megumi stepped closer behind him until their shoulders brushed lightly. “Come on,” he said quietly, stepping past him into the room.

Yuuji followed. He didn’t bother changing. He simply crawled onto the bed and curled instinctively onto one side, knees slightly drawn in—leaving the other half of the mattress undisturbed.

Megumi stood there for a moment longer than necessary. Then he sat down carefully on top of the covers, near the edge, leaving deliberate space between them.

Yuuji reacted instantly. His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around Megumi’s wrist. “Don’t sit so far away.”

Megumi shifted without hesitation, moving closer and allowing himself to relax slightly into the mattress. The distance closed. Yuuji rolled onto his side again and pressed his forehead gently against Megumi’s thigh. One arm wrapped loosely around his leg, fingers curling into the fabric of his pants.

It wasn’t romantic, it probably wasn’t even conscious. Just Yuuji seeking warmth and stability. Megumi looked down at him. Something dark and tender coiled low in his chest. This closeness, this dependence, it was intoxicating.

He placed his hand gently atop Yuuji’s hair, smoothing it back slowly. “You’re not alone,” he said softly. “I’ll always be here for you.”

Yuuji’s breathing gradually steadied. The tremors in his shoulders eased. His grip loosened just slightly, exhaustion finally winning. Megumi stayed exactly where he was, allowing Yuuji to cling to him. His body still hummed faintly with restrained heat, but his mind had settled again.

This would work, he just had to keep playing his part. Eventually Yuuji would stop looking toward the door for someone who wasn’t coming back, and start looking at the one who never left.

~~~~

Yuuji woke to birdsong—soft, persistent chirping drifting in through the window—and warmth. For a few blissful, fragile seconds, everything felt right. There was an arm around his waist. A steady warmth pressed against his back. The faint sensation of someone shifting slightly in their sleep behind him.

It was familiar. He let his eyes remain closed. Yes. That was it. Last night had just been a nightmare. A cruel, vivid nightmare brought on by stress. Junpei hadn’t left him. Junpei was right here.

Yuuji let out a small, content breath and turned over. He tightened his arms around the body in front of him, tangled their legs together, and pressed his face into their chest, breathing in deeply. Comfort. Warmth. Home.

The illusion shattered instantly.

That wasn’t Junpei’s shampoo, not the faint floral scent he’d grown so used to. And the body beside him was all wrong. Broader shoulders, more solid muscle, the wrong shape. Yuuji’s eyes snapped open and he lifted his head.

Megumi.

Megumi was inches away from him, eyes wide open and staring straight at him like he’d been frozen mid-thought. His arms were still loosely wrapped around Yuuji’s waist, fingers curled slightly into the fabric of Yuuji’s shirt. His face was flushed and growing redder by the second.

Reality rushed back in. This was the truth. Junpei was gone. Megumi had stayed the night. Yuuji swallowed and tried very hard not to let the disappointment show on his face.

“Fushiguro… morning,” he mumbled.

Megumi blinked once, then twice, like his brain had to catch up with the situation. “…Sorry,” he said after a beat, his voice oddly breathless. “Did I wake you up? I was just trying to… untangle myself.”

Yuuji shifted slightly, glancing down at the way their legs had intertwined. “I don’t think so,” Yuuji said quietly. “I normally get up this early.” He rubbed at his eyes with one hand. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to hug onto you like that. I guess I’m just used to…” He trailed off.

“No, it’s fine.” Megumi answered quickly.

Yuuji started to roll slightly to sit up, Megumi stiffened immediately.

“W-wait, don’t move like that—” His warning cut off abruptly when Yuuji’s knee nudged directly into something very solid. Megumi let out a sharp, involuntary gasp.

Yuuji froze. He blinked down between them then, experimentally, he shifted his knee again. And once more, just to confirm.

“S-stop that!” Megumi panted, face turning an impressive shade of red.

Yuuji stared at him for a second, then a small, surprised laugh escaped him. “Aw, Fushiguro,” he teased weakly, the corner of his mouth lifting despite everything. “Are you that happy to see me?”

Megumi looked mortified.

“Getting all horny from a little cuddling? This really is like back in middle school.” Yuuji added the joke automatic, like muscle memory from easier days.

“Shut up…” Megumi shot back immediately, scrambling out of the bed and turning his back toward him. “I’m glad you can still find things to laugh about.”

Yuuji’s small smile faltered, the laughter faded as quickly as it had appeared. The weight of reality returned. 

Junpei wasn’t here. 

Junpei would never be here again.

 Yuuji’s shoulders slumped slightly. “…Sorry,” he muttered, staring down at the rumpled sheets.

Megumi stood up from the bed, back still turned, taking a steadying breath. “I’ll go get started on breakfast,” he said evenly. He still didn’t turn around. “Do you want anything in particular?”

Yuuji shook his head faintly. “No. Not really.”

“Alright.” Megumi stepped toward the doorway, then paused. “Don’t worry about anything today,” he said quietly. “I’ll take care of you.” The words lingered in the air after he left.

Yuuji sat there for a moment, staring at the empty doorway. Take care of you. He hadn’t asked for that. But right now, he didn’t have the energy to refuse it either.

After a few minutes, he dragged himself out of bed and padded slowly toward the kitchen. The house felt different in the daylight, less eerie, but still… wrong. The dining table was still set from last night, though the note and ring were no longer sitting in plain sight—Yuuji had moved them at some point, unable to keep looking at them.

Megumi was standing at the stove, sleeves rolled up slightly, posture composed.

Yuuji hesitated in the doorway. “Smells good,” he said faintly.

Megumi glanced over his shoulder. It’s just eggs and toast. Nothing special.”

That was fine. Nothing special was all Yuuji could handle right now. He sank into one of the kitchen chairs and watched silently as Megumi moved around the space with surprising ease.

“ I think it would be best if you called Nanami-san,” Megumi offered casually. “Tell him you’re sick or something.”

Yuuji stared down at his hands. “…Yeah. I probably shouldn’t go in.”

“I can handle it,” Megumi said smoothly.

Yuuji looked up at him then. “No, I… I’ll tell him.”

Megumi paused only briefly before nodding. “Okay. If you’re sure.”

“Yeah,” Yuuji sighed, pushing his chair back. His fingers moved automatically toward his phone. “It’s better if he hears it from me.” He stood slowly, the chair legs scraping lightly across the floor. “I’ll just… be in the other room.”

Megumi watched him leave the kitchen, his gaze following the slump of Yuuji’s shoulders as he walked toward the living room. Yuuji stopped near the window, phone already in his hand. 

For a moment he just stared at the contact list. He was tempted to try calling Junpei again, to leave him another message, to reach out another way. He sighed then scrolled down to Nanami’s name. 

The phone rang twice before he picked up. “Itadori-kun,” Nanami’s calm voice answered on the other end. “Good morning. Is something the matter?”

The professionalism in Nanami’s tone made Yuuji’s chest tighten unexpectedly. He swallowed.

“Nanamin… Sorry. I know I’m scheduled to go to the office today but… something came up. I… I can’t make it.”

There was a pause.

“I see,” Nanami said evenly. “Are you ill?”

Yuuji hesitated. “I… kind of,” he said weakly. “Something happened at home.”

Another pause.

Nanami’s voice softened slightly. “Take the day off,” he said simply. “If you require additional time, inform me. Your responsibilities can wait.”

Yuuji blinked rapidly. “…Thank you.”

“Is there anything you need help with?” Nanami asked quietly, 

The question nearly broke Yuuji. Yes, he did need help. He needed someone to explain what had happened. He needed someone to tell him the note was fake and Junpei would walk through the door any minute. But none of those were things Nanami could give him.

“…No,” Yuuji said after a moment. “I just… need some time for myself today.”

“Very well,” Nanami replied. “If you think of anything else… or just want to talk,” he continued. “Don’t hesitate to reach out.”

Yuuji’s throat tightened. “I… yeah, okay. Thank you.”

“Don’t isolate yourself.” Nanami said carefully, 

Yuuji’s eyes flicked instinctively toward the kitchen doorway. “I’m not,” he said quietly. “I promise.”

“Good.”

The line clicked as the call ended. Yuuji lowered the phone slowly. For several seconds he just stood there staring at the dark screen. Then his shoulders sagged.

Back in the kitchen, Megumi had just finished placing the food on the table when he heard the soft footsteps returning. Yuuji stopped in the doorway.

“How did it go?” Megumi asked.

“He said to take the day off,” Yuuji said.

Megumi nodded like that was exactly what he expected. “That’s good.”

Yuuji lingered there, shifting his weight awkwardly.

Megumi dried his hands on a kitchen towel and leaned casually against the counter. “Do you want coffee?”

“Yeah,” Yuuji said faintly. “That sounds good.”

Megumi moved to the coffee maker and began setting it up. “After breakfast,” he said, “maybe you should take a shower.” Megumi glanced back at him briefly. “You didn’t sleep much,” he continued. “And you’ve been crying for hours. A shower might help clear your head.”

Yuuji rubbed his eyes again. “…Yeah. Maybe.”

The coffee machine hummed steadily, the soft mechanical sound filling the quiet space of the kitchen. The smell of fresh coffee slowly spread through the air, warm and grounding in a house that had felt hollow since the night before.

“Thanks for staying,” Yuuji said quietly.

“It’s my pleasure,” Megumi said. “I’ll stay all day… if you’d like.”

Yuuji lifted his eyes. Surely that would be asking too much. Megumi had work. A life. Responsibilities. Yuuji hated the idea of burdening someone else with his mess. But the thought of the house falling silent again once Megumi left made something twist painfully in his chest. “I’d like you to stay,” he admitted after a moment.

Megumi smiled. It was small, but genuine—rare enough that it caught Yuuji slightly off guard. “Then I’ll stay,” Megumi said simply. He walked over to the table, sitting down across from Yuuji. “We can do whatever you’d like today,” he continued. “Just tell me what you want and I’ll make it happen.”

Yuuji gave a faint huff of breath that might have been the ghost of a laugh. “That sounds expensive.”

Megumi shrugged. “I didn’t say it had to cost money.”

“…I don’t know what I want.” Yuuji admitted. “I feel like I should be doing something,” Yuuji continued, frowning slightly. “Looking for him. Calling people. Checking places he might’ve gone.”

Megumi’s expression remained carefully neutral. “That would make sense,” he said. “But you read the note… he’s probably going to places where you wouldn’t think to look. ”

Yuuji’s fingers tightened slightly around the table. “Yeah.”

“And he said he didn’t want you looking for him. Maybe by trying you'll just make things worse.”

The reminder hung in the air.

Yuuji’s shoulders sagged. “Yes… but… It just doesn’t seem right to give up,” he muttered.

Megumi softened his tone. “Maybe you should just take a day for yourself before deciding what to do.”

Yuuji stared down at the table. “I just… keep thinking he’ll walk back in,” he admitted. “Like he’ll realize this was a mistake, that he moved too fast with things… or maybe that he'd heard my messages and realized how much I’d do to make things right again.” Yuuji felt himself start to tear up again but forced it down.

“Maybe he will,” Megumi said quietly. “Or maybe he won’t,” he continued. “Either way, today doesn’t have to be about that… about him.”

Yuuji considered the idea. “…Then what should today be about?”

Megumi thought for a moment. “Stabilizing,” he said.

Yuuji raised an eyebrow faintly. “That sounds like something Nanamin would say.” He exhaled slowly, the tension in his shoulders easing just a little. “Okay,” he said quietly. “Stabilizing.”

Megumi nodded once. “First step, finish your breakfast.” he said, pointing at the stove. “Second step,” Megumi continued, “shower.”

“You’re really stuck on that one, do I smell or something?” Yuuji asked nervously, giving his clothes a sniff. 

“No,” Megumi quickly clarified. “But you’ll feel better.”

Yuuji huffed faintly. “Alright, then what?” he asked.

Megumi leaned back slightly in his chair.

“After that, we leave the house.”

Yuuji blinked. “Leave?”

“You need fresh air,” Megumi explained.

Yuuji frowned slightly. “I don’t know if I’m ready to leave. I mean, what if…” Yuuji cut himself off mid sentence, he couldn’t vocalize what he was thinking. What if Junpei comes back for his stuff? That could be his last chance to talk to him and figure things out. But if Junpei really was avoiding him…

“We could also stay in,” Megumi said. “But I figured, the less reminders of last night the better.”

Yuuji looked back at him. “Maybe you’re right… could we maybe… go to your place?”

“My place?” Megumi echoed. He stopped for a moment to think, then nodded his head. “Sure. It’s been a while since you were over anyways.”

Yuuji gave a small shrug, eyes drifting toward the hallway that led deeper into the house. “Yeah, I guess that’s true.”

“So it’s settled then,” Megumi said, spreading a small piece of butter over his toast. “We’ll spend the day at my place.”

Yuuji nodded, then hesitated. “What are we even going to do over there?”

“Well… we could watch movies.” The suggestion left his mouth automatically, then he stopped. Movies. That had been Junpei’s thing. Bad idea. Yuuji might not say anything, but the association would be obvious. Yuuji’d spend all the time they were together thinking about someone else. Unacceptable. “…Actually,” Megumi corrected, “Maybe not movies.”

Yuuji looked mildly confused.

“Didn’t you say last month you liked those dogs from the shelter I work at?” he asked instead.

The shift in topic caught Yuuji off guard. “Yeah…” he said slowly.

Megumi allowed himself a small smile. “I could bring them home for the afternoon,” he offered.

Yuuji stared at him. “You can do that?”

Megumi shrugged lightly. “Sometimes they let me take some of the calmer dogs out for a few hours, I’m sure I can get them to allow it.” he said. “Besides, they really love you.”

Yuuji’s expression softened noticeably. “…Kuro and Shiro are pretty great.”

“And,” Megumi continued smoothly, “for lunch we can order whatever food you want.”

Yuuji blinked again. “Anything?”

“Anything.”

Yuuji stared down at the table for a moment before speaking again. “…Dogs and food sounds nice.”

Megumi nodded. “Good.”

Yuuji pushed himself to eat slowly but then paused. “…Fushiguro?”

Megumi looked up. “Yeah?”

Yuuji hesitated, struggling to find the words. “…Thanks for everything.”

Megumi held his gaze for a moment. “That’s what friends are for, right,” he said quietly.

Yuuji nodded and then continued eating.

Megumi got up to check on the coffee. He turned away from Yuuji and let his relaxed expression fade into something more sinister. The first twenty-four hours were the most important. Right now Yuuji was disoriented, grieving, and searching for something stable to hold onto. Megumi intended to make sure that “something” was him.

He glanced backwards toward Yuuji again. Step one was already working. Yuuji wanted to stay by his side. Step two would be making that feeling permanent. He’d get there no matter what. 

~~~~

The sound of the shower running eventually faded, replaced by the soft creak of the bathroom door opening. Footsteps approached down the hallway. Megumi glanced up. Yuuji had changed, obviously. Now he was wearing a bright red hoodie, and loose black sweatpants that hung comfortably from his hips. His hair was still damp, and a few strands clung to his forehead.

Megumi’s eyes flicked downward automatically before he could stop himself. Those pants. God. Yuuji had worn them dozens of times before, but Megumi had always noticed how they fit. The fabric was soft and slightly fitted around the thighs before loosening near the calves, the kind of cut that made every step subtly emphasize the strength in Yuuji’s legs. And when he turned—

Megumi forced his gaze back upward immediately. Focus. This was not the moment to be thinking about that. Megumi cleared his throat lightly.

“Feeling better?” he asked.

Yuuji gave a small shrug, “…Cleaner,” he said. “That’s something.”

Megumi nodded. “Ready to go?”

Yuuji hesitated. “…One minute,” Yuuji said quietly. He walked past Megumi toward the living room.

Megumi watched him go.

Yuuji moved slowly around the space. His eyes drifted across the couch, the coffee table, the quiet morning light spilling through the window. Then he reached for a small notepad sitting near the end table.

Megumi stayed in the kitchen but watched from the doorway. Yuuji sat down on the couch and began writing. His pen moved quickly but carefully, pausing once or twice as if he had to think about the exact wording.

Megumi didn’t ask.

He already knew what it probably was. A note in case Junpei came back. After a minute, Yuuji tore the page free and set it carefully on the table in front of the couch where it would be impossible to miss. Then he stood.

“Okay,” he said quietly when he returned to the hallway. “I’m ready.”

Megumi nodded once and grabbed his keys.

They stepped outside into the cool morning air. The sunlight was brighter now, the world fully awake compared to the quiet stillness of earlier. Megumi’s car was parked in the driveway—a dark sedan with four seats and a surprisingly deep trunk.

“I’ve got some stuff in the backseats I wanna move to the trunk,” Megumi said, unlocking the car and moving to the back. “We’ll need to make some space for the dogs,” he lifted the trunk open then moved to open the backdoors. Inside were several stacked plastic crates filled with animal care supplies—blankets, leashes, bags of kibble, and cleaning materials from the shelter.

“Can you put these in the back?” he asked.

Yuuji stepped forward and lifted one of the containers, moving it to the trunk. As he set it down, something in the corner of the trunk caught his eye. A dark red smear along the interior lining. It was faint, dried, and almost brown in the sunlight.

Yuuji blinked at it for a second. Paint maybe? The thought passed through his mind quickly. The shelter probably transported supplies all the time. Something could’ve spilled. “Hey, Fushiguro—”

Megumi saw it at the exact same moment. Shit. He moved instantly. “Actually,” Megumi cut in quickly, stepping between Yuuji and the trunk with another crate in his arms. “Can you just pass the stuff to me? It’s better if I arrange them.”

Yuuji blinked. “Oh…yeah, sure.”

Megumi closed the trunk halfway while pretending to reorganize the remaining crates, blocking the view entirely. Yuuji walked around the side of the car. Megumi exhaled slowly once he was out of sight. He grabbed a rag from the supply crate and quickly rubbed over the faint stain. It didn’t fully disappear, but it smeared enough to look more like a faded scuff.

Good enough.

He’d have to get it bleached later. 

~~~~

It was exactly 9:30 PM. The small living room of Megumi’s apartment was dim except for the soft blue glow of the television. A cheerful commercial jingle played from the screen—something about chocolate-dipped ice cream bars and summer happiness.

On the couch, the shelter dogs Kuro and Shiro were sprawled across the cushions, dead asleep. Kuro, the larger of the two, had taken up the entire far end of the couch, his paws twitching occasionally as he dreamed. Shiro had curled into a tight circle near the armrest, his breathing slow and steady.

Between them, the faint smell of dog fur, takeout containers, and cheap beer hung in the air.

Megumi Fushiguro sat in the middle of the couch, and nestled against his side—half leaning into him, half draped across his lap—was the love of his life. Yuuji Itadori. Unfortunately, the love of Megumi’s life was currently drunk. Very drunk. And said drunken state had manifested itself in the form of a rambling, emotional rant about the love of his life.

“Things were going greaaaat, ‘gumi,” Yuuji slurred, stretching the word so long it barely resembled language anymore.

Megumi closed his eyes briefly. That was the fifth time Yuuji had said that in the last thirty minutes.

“He called me his soulmate,” Yuuji continued loudly, waving the half-empty beer can for emphasis. “His muse! His best friend! All that just to run out on me! What a joke!”

Megumi nodded slowly. He had learned the fastest way through this stage was simply to let Yuuji talk.

Earlier in the evening, Megumi had made the mistake of assuming three beers wouldn’t do much. Yuuji almost never drank, but when he did he usually had a strangely high tolerance. Megumi had expected maybe a slight buzz. Instead, Yuuji had kept going and tipped sharply into a strange mix of emotional vulnerability and uninhibited affection. Which had led to this.

Megumi shifted slightly on the couch. At some point during the evening, Yuuji had started leaning against him. Then fully curling into his side as if Megumi were some kind of oversized pillow. And somewhere in that process, Yuuji had begun calling him “Megumi” instead of “Fushiguro.” Megumi had not corrected him. Of course he hadn’t.

Yuuji’s warmth pressed against him through the thin fabric of the red hoodie. One of Yuuji’s legs had hooked loosely over Megumi’s thigh, and every time he gestured wildly with his beer can his shoulder bumped into Megumi’s chest. Megumi had done absolutely nothing to stop it. Not when he could cuddle back without having to worry about Yuuji noticing.

His arm rested casually around Yuuji’s shoulders now, fingers occasionally brushing across the soft fabric of the hoodie. Over the past hour those touches had grown bolder. His hand had drifted across Yuuji’s chest more than once. Sometimes down to his thigh. Sometimes gripping the full shape of Yuuji’s ass.

Each time Yuuji simply hummed contentedly and leaned closer, treating the contact like some absentminded comfort. Like a massage. Megumi had never been more grateful for alcohol in his life. If the night had stayed like that—quiet cuddling, dogs snoring nearby, television flickering in the background—Megumi might have considered it perfect.

But of course things couldn’t be that easy.

About an hour ago Yuuji had started talking about Junpei. And much to Megumi’s irritation, most of the things he said were still positive. For every angry rant about how selfish Junpei was for leaving, there were five more miserable declarations about how empty life would be without him. Every time Megumi tried to redirect the conversation, Yuuji would simply continue talking like he hadn’t heard him.

“How could he just leave like that?” Yuuji said again, voice rising dramatically.

Megumi resisted the urge to sigh.

“‘Things were bad,’ he says…” Yuuji continued bitterly. “What could possibly be bad?” He lifted the beer can again and took an exaggerated chug. “Living in my family’s amazing three-story house?” he continued loudly. “Having a lover who provided enough money that he could work on his indie films full-time?”

Megumi’s fingers tightened slightly where they rested against Yuuji’s hip.

“The sex?” Yuuji added bluntly.

Megumi tensed.

“The sex was great!”

Megumi shifted slightly, trying not to react. “Yuuji,” he said evenly, “you’re supposed to be taking the day for yourself without him.” His hand slid down briefly and gave Yuuji’s ass a firm squeeze—part grounding gesture, part warning. “Don’t bother with—”

“And it wasn’t infrequent either!” Yuuji shouted right over him.

Megumi closed his eyes.

“I fucked him a week before!” Yuuji continued, voice loud and proud in the empty apartment.

Megumi’s jaw tightened.

“And oh, I know he enjoyed it by the way he was screaming for me!”

Megumi stared at the television screen. He felt a slow, burning irritation spreading in his chest. Not jealousy. No. Definitely not jealousy. Just… irritation. Because here Yuuji was—curled against him, warm and trusting, letting Megumi’s hands wander wherever they pleased—and still talking about someone else.

Megumi inhaled slowly through his nose, but he couldn’t stop the glare that crossed his face. He didn’t want to hear this. He didn’t want to hear about Yuuji’s perfect body being shared with someone else. Getting tainted by another man. The thought twisted something sharp and ugly inside his chest.

Before he fully realized what he was doing, Megumi leaned down. His lips brushed lightly against the side of Yuuji’s neck. Then again. And again. Soft, almost absentminded kisses scattered along the warm skin beneath Yuuji’s ear. He didn’t stop.

Megumi’s hands tightened slightly around him. It should be him. It should have always been him. He was the one who should get to feel the warmth of Yuuji’s body like this. If Yuuji wanted good sex, he could give it to him. He would. He—

“‘Gumi… stop… that tickles,” Yuuji murmured sleepily.

Megumi froze. His mind snapped back into focus. His hands stilled immediately. When had they drifted under Yuuji’s hoodie? Megumi glanced down. His fingers were resting against the warm skin of Yuuji’s stomach, the hem of the hoodie pushed up slightly. How long had his hand been there? How long had his fingers been circling Yuuji’s nipples? How long ago did Yuuji move even closer to him? 

Megumi’s fingers twitched. He gave Yuuji’s nipples a soft pinch. 

Yuuji let out a soft gasp. “I said stop…” he mumbled, though the words lacked any real force. He didn’t move away. If anything, he leaned closer, his head sliding onto Megumi’s shoulder as if that had been the goal all along. “‘M tired…” he muttered quietly.

Megumi carefully withdrew his hands from beneath the hoodie and rested them on Yuuji’s shoulders instead. “You should sleep on the bed instead,” he said softly.

Yuuji didn’t respond right away.

Megumi gently shifted his weight and stood, offering a hand to pull Yuuji up. “Come on.”

Yuuji accepted the help clumsily, leaning heavily against him as he stood. For a moment he swayed on his feet before instinctively pressing closer to Megumi for balance. Megumi wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him. Even through the hoodie he could feel the warmth of Yuuji’s body.

He guided him slowly down the hallway toward the bedroom. “Almost there,” Megumi murmured. The bedroom door creaked open. Yuuji barely made it two steps inside before spotting the bed. He immediately flopped forward onto it face-first with a muffled groan, rolling just enough to drag a pillow beneath his head.

Within seconds he was out. The alcohol, the crying, and the emotional exhaustion had finally caught up with him.

Megumi stood beside the bed, watching. The room was dim except for the faint glow of light from the moon spilling through the curtains. Yuuji had ended up sprawled diagonally across the mattress. The red hoodie had ridden up slightly during his dramatic collapse, exposing a strip of warm skin along his stomach. His breathing was slow and even now, his chest rising and falling gently as sleep claimed him.

Megumi’s eyes lingered. Yuuji’s body was toned in a way that looked almost unfair—strong without trying, broad shoulders tapering into a narrow waist. Megumi bit his lip unconsciously.

Even with a few feet of space between them now, his body still felt overheated. His pulse was pounding faintly in his ears. And underneath all of that was the same ache that had been simmering inside him for years. An ache that only seemed worse now that Yuuji was this close. This vulnerable. This unaware.

Megumi’s hand wandered down to his crotch. He’d been thrumming with desire since last night, he should just take care of it in the bathroom and… His eyes drifted back to Yuuji’s body. He hadn’t moved an inch since falling asleep, and he was snoring lightly. 

Yuuji really was completely out of it. If Megumi were to…

No. No, he shouldn’t. He shouldn’t… so why was he moving closer to the bed? Why was he undoing his belt? Why had he climbed into the bed next to Yuuji? 

‘I’ll make this quick and simple,’ he thought to himself, ‘I’ll just grind against his ass until I cum… it’ll be fine, he won’t notice.” 

The last remaining bits of his rationality shot forward, starting an internal argument.

‘You said that this morning too, then he woke up and you didn’t even get to finish.’

‘It’s different now, he’s too drunk to notice. Even if he wakes up… I won't have to stop.’

‘You’ll get carried away if you do it! It won't matter how drunk he is, if you let your true obsession show like this he’ll hate you!’

‘It’s fine!’

Megumi moved slowly, sliding down Yuuji sweatpants inch by inch. He got them halfway down when Yuuji let out a quiet groan. Megumi froze in his movements. Yuuji shifted a bit more to his side then settled. 

Megumi waited before moving again. When Yuuji made no more sounds or movements he continued. He left Yuuji’s boxers on, needing that thin bit of separation between them to maintain some kind of rationality.

Megumi re-adjusted himself, slotting his body into Yuuji’s. His arms wrapped around his waist and he let his hands travel under Yuuji’s hoodie once more. Megumi’s fingers started to trace the lines of Yuuji’s abs as he shifted his hips. His cock twitched as it dragged against Yuuji’s ass. A shudder raked over his entire body, and he put a bit more pressure into it. 

This was much better than what he’d been trying that morning, those shallow ruts against Yuuji’s thigh were barely enough to get him off. This however…

Megumi’s hands roamed further up Yuuji’s body, finding his chest and giving it a squeeze. It felt even better without the layers of clothes in the way. Getting to feel that soft, supple, flesh directly just like he’d always fantasized. He had to memorize the feeling. This little taste of what would soon be his to indulge in forever. 

Megumi’s hips picked up speed as he let one hand trail down to Yuuji’s clothed cock. His fingers ghosted over the fabric, feeling the warmth radiating from Yuuji’s skin. His own breathing had gone shallow, each exhale a quiet shudder against the back of Yuuji’s neck. The scent of him filled Megumi’s senses, intoxicating him far more than any alcohol could.

He pressed his hips forward again, a little harder this time, a little more desperate. The friction was maddeningly good, but it wasn't enough. It would never be enough. His hand on Yuuji's chest squeezed tighter, fingertips denting the firm muscle as if he could leave marks, claim him in some small way.

In his sleep, Yuuji made a soft sound—not quite a moan, not quite a word. He shifted, his body pressing back against Megumi's instinctively, seeking warmth. The movement sent a jolt of electricity straight to Megumi's core. His hips stuttered, a broken gasp escaping his lips.

"...Babe...?" Yuuji mumbled. The word was slurred, heavy with sleep. Yuuji didn't open his eyes, but his body had gone slightly tense, awareness flickering beneath the surface of drunken unconsciousness.

Megumi's entire body locked up. His heart hammered against his ribs so hard he was certain Yuuji could feel it. For a long, agonizing moment, neither of them moved. Then Yuuji's body relaxed again, his breathing evening out into the steady rhythm of deep sleep. 

Megumi's hips began to move again, slower this time, more careful. He kept his hand still on Yuuji's chest, afraid any further movement might wake him. Just the gentle rock of his hips, the drag of his cock against the plush curve of Yuuji's ass through their remaining clothes. 

He buried his face against Yuuji's hair, breathing him in. His mind supplied fantasies he'd indulged in countless times before—Yuuji awake and willing, Yuuji moaning his name, Yuuji beneath him, around him, his in every possible way.

The pressure built slowly, a coil tightening in his gut. Megumi's hips moved faster, less controlled, chasing the edge with single-minded focus. His hand on Yuuji's chest finally moved, sliding down, down, until his fingers curled around the waistband of Yuuji's boxers.

Just a little. Just a taste. He could—

Yuuji shifted again, and this time his hand came up, clumsily covering Megumi's where it rested on his hip. "'s nice," he mumbled, so quietly Megumi almost missed it. Yuuji’s hand guided Megumi’s further down, unconsciously forcing his palm to grind into Yuuji’s semi-hard cock.

What little remained of Megumi's restraint shattered. With a quiet, desperate sound, he pressed his face into the curve of Yuuji's shoulder and let go. His hips snapped forward erratically as he spilled into his boxers, pleasure arcing through him in waves so intense they left him trembling. He stayed in the aftershocks for only a few moments before moving.

He pulled Yuuji’s boxers down, letting his cock spring free and finally touching it skin to skin. He felt Yuuji twitch against him as he let out a quiet groan. Megumi gave him a gentle stroke, letting his fingers trail all over the hot and heavy length.

The sound Yuuji made was devastating—a low, wanting noise that went straight to Megumi's already-overloaded brain. His fingers trembled against Yuuji's length, feeling it twitch and fill further under his hesitant touch.

"Fuck," Megumi breathed, the word muffled against Yuuji's shoulder. His spent body should have been satisfied, should have been done, but the feeling of Yuuji hardening in his hand sent fresh heat curling through his gut.

Yuuji's hips rolled forward slightly, seeking more contact. "Mmm... keep going..." His voice was thick with sleep, but there was something else there too—want, maybe, or just instinctual response to touch. His hand, still covering Megumi's, squeezed gently.

Megumi's mind raced through the facts. Yuuji was drunk. Yuuji was half-asleep. Yuuji might remember this in the morning. Every rational thought screamed at him to stop, to pull away, to preserve whatever fragile boundaries still existed between them. But Yuuji's cock was hot and heavy in his palm, and Yuuji was making those sounds, and they were already so far past any line Megumi had ever drawn for himself.

"Yuuji," he whispered, "You like this don’t you? You like the way I touch you?" Megumi's hand moved experimentally, a slow stroke from base to tip. Yuuji's breath caught, his body arching slightly into the touch. Precum beaded at the slit, and Megumi spread it with his thumb, watching through heavy-lidded eyes as Yuuji's hips stuttered. 

He should stop. He knew he should stop.

Instead, he shifted, maneuvering until he could see Yuuji's face in the dim light. His beloved's features were slack with sleep, but there was a furrow between his brows, his lips parted slightly. He looked beautiful. He looked like everything Megumi had ever wanted.

"I love you," Megumi whispered, the words falling from his lips without permission. "I love you so much it's destroying me."

Yuuji's eyes didn't open, but his hand tightened on Megumi's, guiding his strokes faster. His breathing grew uneven, little sounds escaping with each exhale. “J-junpei,” Yuuji panted, “...more.”

Megumi’s hand froze. Why that name? Why now? 

That was a stupid question. Of course that’s who Yuuji would beg for. That was who he actually had feelings for. 

Megumi’s grip tightened, almost cruelly. He slid his own wet boxers down, cock already stiffening for a second round. He slid between Yuuji’s thighs with a shuddering breath. “No,” he whispered. “It’s Megumi. You’re mine Yuuji, not his.”

Yuuji's hips kept moving, seeking friction even as Megumi held himself still, trapped between the reality of what he was doing and the name that hung in the air like smoke. He resumed the strokes, slower this time, watching for any sign that Yuuji was truly present. But Yuuji's eyes remained closed, his body responding on autopilot, drunk and sleepy and pliant.

Maybe he was better that way.

"You’ve always been mine," Megumi breathed. He pressed closer, his cock sliding against Yuuji's skin, and the friction made him hiss through his teeth. Yuuji's thighs shifted, spreading slightly, unconsciously making room. An invitation Megumi hadn't earned. 

He thought about taking it futher—about rolling Yuuji onto his stomach, burying his cock inside him, doing all the things he'd imagined in the dark of his own room. His hand tightened on Yuuji's cock, and Yuuji moaned, low and encouraging. 

He wanted it. He deserved it. It would be so easy. But… no. Megumi wanted their first time-–their real first time—to be special. He’d only used force if Yuuji left him no choice.

Yuuji’s hand started moving again. “...more… Jun…” he mumbled, thighs rubbing together in an absolutely perfect friction. 

"Ah, wait–" Megumi gasped. He was close again. He placed another kiss on the back of Yuuji’s neck. “I love you.” he whispered again, resuming his steady strokes and trusting into Yuuji’s thighs. 

Yuuji made a sound—soft, pleased, somewhere in the back of his throat. "That's it," Megumi murmured against his skin. "Just like that."

Yuuji's hand had gone slack around his own cock, his arousal clearly secondary to whatever hazy dream was playing behind his eyelids. But his body kept responding, kept seeking, hips making small circles against the mattress and against Megumi. 

Megumi's thrusts grew slower, more deliberate. He dragged his cock through the sweat-slick heat of Yuuji's thighs, watching the way Yuuji's back arched just slightly with each pass. The shift of muscle under skin. The small sounds he made that weren't quite words. "I'll make you happy," Megumi whispered. "Once you're mine I'll never let you go." Yuuji's hand found his again, fingers loosely intertwining, and squeezed once before going slack. "Cum for me," Megumi breathed, the words barely audible. "Now, Yuuji."

As if responding to the command, Yuuji's back arched, a broken sound tearing from his throat. His cum spilled over Megumi's fingers, hot and wet, body trembling through the aftershocks. Megumi stroked him through it, mesmerized, until Yuuji went limp again, his breathing evening out into something peaceful.

He released Yuuji's cock and pulled back without finishing, body screaming in protest. Megumi sat on the edge of the bed with his back to him, trembling. His cock ached, his heart ached, everything ached. He used the hand that was still sporting the aftermath of Yuuji’s release and stroked himself to completion, biting his lip to stop from making a sound. 

For a long moment he couldn't move, couldn't breathe, just existed in the space where he was allowed to want and take and have. Then reality crept back in.

He stood carefully, moving on shaking legs to the bathroom. When he returned with a warm cloth, Yuuji hadn't moved, still sprawled boneless and trusting across the sheets. Megumi cleaned him with gentle hands, taking perhaps too long, memorizing every inch of skin the low light revealed. He pulled Yuuji’s clothes back on and grabbed a trash can to place on the side of the bed he was facing, in case he woke up nauseous.

Yuuji stirred slightly. "Mm... Fushiguro? Where…" he trailed off.

"Go back to sleep," Megumi said softly. “It’s late.”

“‘M cold…” Yuuji muttered. 

“I’ll get a blanket.” 

Yuuji nuzzled into the pillow again, satisfied with that answer. 

Megumi grabbed the blanket at the foot of the bed and draped it over Yuuji. He climbed back into bed afterwards but kept his distance. He lay on his back, staring at the ceiling, heart still racing.

Morning would come. Yuuji would wake up—maybe remembering, maybe not. And Megumi would have to face whatever came next. 

He didn't sleep much that night.

Chapter Text

The morning sun brought nothing but emptiness with it. The early light filtered through curtains and the distant hum of the world waking up filled the apartment. A picturesque scene, still, the first thing Megumi noticed was Yuuji’s absence. His chest tightened instantly.

He pushed himself up, scanning the area. The blanket was slightly rumpled, the pillow still indented. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, running a hand through his hair as he stepped out into the hallway.

Soft sounds drifted from the living room—faint movement, a low huff, the rustle of fabric. Megumi followed them nervously. When he stepped into the living room, he found Yuuji curled up on the couch.

Kuro and Shiro were both sprawled across him. Kuro had claimed Yuuji’s legs entirely, while Shiro was tucked against his side, chin resting on his chest. Yuuji’s hand was absentmindedly petting Shiro’s back.

Megumi leaned lightly against the wall. “Morning.”

Yuuji flinched in surprise. “…Morning,” he replied quietly then looked away from him.

Megumi frowned slightly. He pushed off the wall and stepped closer. “How are you feeling?” he asked. “You went a bit overboard with the drinking last night."

Yuuji shrugged. “I’m fine.” He still wasn’t looking at him.

That wasn’t a good sign. 

Megumi's mind started racing immediately. Did Yuuji remember? How much? The couch? The touching? The way Yuuji had leaned into him? The way Megumi had—

His thoughts spiraled quickly through possibilities. Could he explain it? Blame the alcohol? Say Yuuji initiated everything? Or… Should he just confess? Frame it as something that slipped out. Admit that he’s had feelings for a while and lie that the alcohol made him lose control.

No.

Megumi forced himself to breathe. ‘Think.’ If Yuuji truly believed he had crossed a line he wouldn’t be acting like this. He wouldn’t be quiet. He wouldn’t be avoiding eye contact, he’d be angry. Or worse he’d have already left and reported it. This felt more like…embarrassment.

Megumi steadied himself. He stepped closer to the couch, crouching slightly to try and catch Yuuji’s gaze. “Hey,” he said. “Are you avoiding looking at me?”

Yuuji shifted. “N-no!” He still wasn’t making eye contact. 

“What's the matter,” Megumi sighed. “Come on, just spit it out.”

Yuuji’s shoulders tensed. A faint blush crept up his face. “…Was I being weird last night?” he asked.

Megumi tilted his head. “Weird how?”

Yuuji hesitated. Then groaned softly, dropping his head back against the couch. “Well it’s just… I had a dream,” he mumbled. “You know… one of those dreams.”

Megumi stared at him for a second. “What does that–” 

Yuuji waved a hand vaguely. “Just— you know, one of those… special dreams,” he repeated, visibly flustered. “So if I was, um… touchy or… weird or something…”

“You had a wet dream?” Megumi asked without missing a beat. “How was it?” Megumi continued, completely deadpan. “I mean, did you… finish?”

Yuuji’s face went bright red instantly. “Why would you ask me that?!” he demanded, horrified.

Megumi’s lips curved into a small, amused smile. “...Karma.”

“Karma? What are you… Oh my god.” Yuuji’s expression shifted from shock to amusement, then he started laughing. Yuuji leaned back into the couch as Kuro shifted and let out a sleepy huff. “…Maybe we should stop sleeping in the same bed.”

Megumi’s smile faded just a fraction. “Maybe,” he said calmly.

Yuuji nodded, still a little flushed but clearly more relaxed now.

“You want breakfast?” Megumi asked to quickly change the subject.

Yuuji nodded. “Yeah.”

Megumi turned toward the kitchen. Behind him, Yuuji leaned back into the couch again, one hand absently scratching behind Shiro’s ears.

Megumi’s expression stayed neutral. He tilted his head slightly, tone just curious enough to sound casual. “But actually,” he added, “did you? Finish, I mean.”

“…What?”

Megumi shrugged lightly, like it wasn’t a big deal. “I can let you borrow my clothes,” he said. “If you need to change or something.”

Yuuji’s face went red all over again. “I already dealt with it!” he snapped quickly, turning his head away. “So let’s just move on!”

Megumi nodded. “Alright.” A small flicker of disappointment settled in. He turned away before it could show on his face. ‘What a waste. I wanted something new for my shrine.’ Megumi pushed the thought down.

He moved into the kitchen, rolling up his sleeves slightly as he reached for the pan. “Eggs again okay?” he called over his shoulder.

“Yeah,” Yuuji replied. “Whatever’s easiest.”

Megumi nodded, even though Yuuji couldn’t see him. He cracked the eggs into the pan, watching as they spread and sizzled softly. 

He got away with it. 

Good.

—

Two months went by and somehow, nothing had changed. Yuuji had gone back to work—physically, at least. Every morning he dragged himself out of bed, got dressed, showed up to the social work building, and went through the motions. He spoke when spoken to. He completed his tasks. He smiled when it was expected of him.

But it was all hollow. Everyone could see it. Especially Megumi.

Megumi had made it a habit to stop by whenever he could—before work, after work, on his days off. Sometimes he brought food. Sometimes he brought Kuro and Shiro. Sometimes he just showed up and sat with Yuuji in silence.

It didn’t matter. Nothing seemed to reach him. Every evening, without fail, Yuuji would end up in the same place. Sitting on the couch. Eyes fixed on the front door. Waiting.

Megumi had watched it happen more times than he could count now. The way Yuuji’s posture would subtly shift at every passing sound. And every single time he’d meet with inevitable disappointment. 

Still, Yuuji never stopped. Before leaving the house, he’d carefully write out a note and place it on the table. Begging Junpei to wait for him if he returned, begging to get the chance to talk things out.

And even now Yuuji still texted Junpei’s number. 

Please come back.

I won’t get mad, I promise.

I just want to talk.

Megumi groaned under his breath as he flopped back onto his bed, one arm thrown over his eyes. “This is ridiculous…” 

This wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Yuuji was supposed to break. 

To collapse in the need for comfort and turn to him. And he had, at first. In those first few days—The crying, the clinging, the way Yuuji had looked at him like he was the only thing keeping him together… Megumi’s fingers curled slightly against the sheets. That had been perfect.

But now?

Now Yuuji was stuck. Not moving forward but also not falling apart completely.

“Why…” Megumi muttered. “Why are you still holding onto him?” It was pointless. Junpei wasn’t coming back. He couldn’t come back. And yet Yuuji still acted like he might walk through that door at any moment.

Megumi’s jaw tightened. “…You’re wasting your time.” His gaze drifted toward the ceiling, unfocused. Maybe he should just stop playing this game.

He could take Yuuji. Remove him from all of this. From the house. From the memories. From the waiting. Disappear somewhere far enough that no one would find them and start over, just the two of them.

Megumi’s pulse quickened slightly at the idea. It wouldn’t be that hard. Money wasn’t an issue. He still had plenty saved—more than enough from those old jobs back in high school under Gojo. Resources weren’t the problem. The problem was his father. Megumi turned his head, scowling.

If he wanted something that clean, something untraceable, he’d have to reach out. That alone made his stomach twist in irritation. Definitely not, not unless he absolutely had to. Besides… Yuuji would hate him for it. Megumi’s expression softened, that was the real issue.

If he took Yuuji like that, if he forced him, it would ruin everything he’d worked for. He didn’t just want Yuuji. He wanted Yuuji to want him. The same unconditional love he’d observed between him and Junpei in the past seven years, he wanted that all for himself. 

Megumi closed his eyes, exhaling slowly. “Force is not an option…” he reaffirmed to himself. Not unless everything else failed. Still… he needed Yuuji to move on somehow. Maybe he should leave another note. 

—

Megumi knew he couldn’t rush this, he’d spent that night—and most of the next day—thinking. Not just about what to say, but how to say it. Every word mattered.

Too soft, and Yuuji would keep waiting. Too harsh, and he might break in the wrong direction. retreat inward instead of reaching out.

Megumi sat at his desk, a blank document open on his laptop. He began to type.

“Yuuji,

I didn’t think I would reach out again. I told myself I wouldn’t, that it would only make things harder for both of us. But I realized there were things I didn’t say. Things you deserve to know, even if it hurts.

I think I started falling out of love with you years ago. I didn’t notice it at first. Or maybe I did, and I just didn’t want to admit it. You were still kind, still trying, still so you, and I didn’t really have anyone else, so I stayed.

But the longer I stayed, the more I realized I wasn’t being honest—with you or with myself. And that turned into resentment. Not because of anything you did wrong, but because I felt trapped by my own inability to leave.

I started to hate you for that. I know that’s awful to say. I know it’s not fair. But it’s the truth. Every time you smiled at me, every time you talked about our future… I felt worse. Because I knew I wasn’t feeling the same way anymore and I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t want to hurt you, but staying was hurting me more and more everyday. 

So I left.

I didn’t want to spend the rest of my life blaming you for something that was my fault. I think… I’ll be happier this way, and I think you will be too some day. Please don’t look for me. I meant what I said before, I won’t be coming back. If you care about me at all, please just let me go.

Find someone who can give you what I couldn’t. Someone who’s worthy of all the love you have.

Goodbye, Yuuji. Thank you for everything. 

—Junpei”

Megumi stared at the completed message. A faint smile pulled at his lips. “Perfect.”

Delivering it was simple. He’d sent a sealed envelope to Yuuji’s workplace with nothing more than his name written neatly across the front. No return address. He’d been as impersonal as he could. That should cement the message. 

—

The note arrived about twenty minutes into his shift. Yuuji had been trying to focus on paperwork when the receptionist had come over and placed it on his desk.

“Itadori-kun? This was left for you.”

He hadn’t thought much of it at first, but the second he read the first words his heart stopped. “…Junpei?” he whispered, fingers trembling as he kept reading. Each line hit harder than the last. 

Years of hate? 

Feeling trapped?

The paper shook in his hands. “…No…” His voice came out as a whisper. “…No, that’s not—” His chest tightened sharply, his vision blurred. “No—no, that’s not true! It– it can't be…” A choked sob broke out of him before he could stop it, and then the flood started. Yuuji bent forward over his desk, shoulders shaking violently as the tears came in full force.

Heads turned in the office. Conversations stilled. Yuuji didn’t notice. 

Nanami did. He stood up almost immediately from his desk, his expression tightening as he crossed the room quickly but without drawing unnecessary attention.

“Itadori-kun?” Yuuji didn’t respond. Nanami pulled a chair over and sat beside him. “Itadori-kun,” he said again, softer this time.

Yuuji’s grip tightened around the letter. “…Nanamin…I received… another note,” Yuuji managed between breaths. “From… from Junpei.”

Nanami’s expression darkened slightly. “I see.”

Yuuji sucked in a shaky breath. “…Did you ever think he was unhappy?” he asked suddenly, lifting his head just enough to look at Nanami. “When he was with me, did he seem miserable?” His eyes were red and desperate. “Was it obvious to everyone but me?” he whispered.

“Yoshino-kun never seemed anything but happy when he was with you.” Nanami answered honestly.

Yuuji’s face crumpled. “That’s what I thought too—” he choked out. “But now I don’t— I don’t know anymore!” His voice dissolved into sobs again. With shaking hands, he pushed the letter toward Nanami.

Nanami took it. His eyes moved over the page quickly, but his expression remained composed. Only the slightest tightening of his jaw gave anything away. When he finished, he exhaled slowly then folded the paper carefully. 

“Itadori-kun.”

Yuuji sniffed, trying and failing to steady himself.

“I think it would be best if you headed home for today.”

Yuuji shook his head weakly. “I—I can still work, I just—”

“You can’t,” Nanami said gently, but firmly. “And you shouldn’t have to.”

Yuuji’s shoulders slumped. “…Sorry… I’ll make things up to you…”

“There’s nothing to apologize for.” Nanami stood, placing a steady hand on Yuuji’s shoulder. “Focus on yourself.”

“…Okay.” Yuuji stood slowly, still clutching the edge of his desk like it was the only thing keeping him upright.

Nanami watched him for a moment. “If you need anything… you can call.”

Yuuji gave a weak nod. “…Thank you, Nanamin.”

—

The drive home felt longer than usual. 

Yuuji didn’t remember most of it. He knew he left the building. Knew he got in his car. Knew he drove. But everything in between blurred together—traffic lights he didn’t consciously stop at, turns he didn’t remember making, the quiet hum of the engine filling a space that felt far too large for him to sit in alone.

When he pulled into the driveway, his hands were still shaking. Yuuji sat in the driver's seat for a long moment, staring at the front door. He didn’t want to go in, but still he forced himself out of the car. 

The front door creaked softly as he pushed it open. Yuuji stepped inside slowly, slipping his shoes off without really thinking about it. His eyes flicked automatically toward the couch. The spot he always sat in. The table where he always left notes. His throat tightened and his hand drifted to his pocket.

He scrolled down his contact list then stopped at Megumi’s name. His thumb hovered over the call button. “I shouldn’t bother him….” The words came out weak.

The line rang once before Megumi picked up.

“Itadori?”

Yuuji’s chest hitched at the sound of his voice. “…Megumi… I…”

Megumi’s tone shifted immediately. “What happened?”

Yuuji swallowed hard. “I—” His voice cracked. “I got another note.”

“What did it say?” Megumi asked quietly.

Yuuji laughed weakly, but it came out broken. “He… explained everything,” he said. “He said he fell out of love with me years ago. That he only stayed because he didn’t have anyone else. That he started to hate me for it…” His grip tightened around the phone. “He said he’s happier now,” Yuuji whispered. “And that I should… find someone new.”

“…I see.”

Yuuji squeezed his eyes shut. “I don’t understand,” he choked out. “I don’t—I thought we were happy. I thought I understood him. Was I just… imagining everything?” His breathing started to break again. “I don’t know what’s real anymore—”

“I’m coming over.”

Yuuji froze. “W-wait— I didn’t mean— you don’t have to—” he started quickly, panic slipping into his voice. “You’ve already done so much, I shouldn’t keep—”

“I’m coming over,” Megumi repeated. No room for argument.

Yuuji’s breath stuttered. “…Fushiguro, I—”

“I’ll be there soon.” The line clicked.

Yuuji stared down at his phone. “…I didn’t even say okay…” he muttered but he wasn’t exactly upset. Yuuji moved toward the couch. He sat down heavily, the cushions dipping beneath his weight.

“…I’m such a mess.” The words slipped out without thinking. He called Megumi again. Relied on him again. Dumped everything on him again. Yuuji dragged a hand over his face. “I’ve been doing that this whole time…” Every time he couldn’t hold himself together, Megumi was there.

What had Yuuji given him in return? Nothing. His chest tightened painfully. ‘I’m a burden.’ The thought settled heavy in his mind. His fingers curled into the couch cushion.

‘I should stop.’ But as that thought formed, another followed. ‘Who do you have left?’

The answer came instantly. No one. Not really. Sure he had other friends but… the only person who had known him better than Megumi… The only person who had seen everything, who he’d thought had understood him was…

“…Junpei…”

And he was gone. 

Gone forever. 

Yuuji’s vision blurred again. He reached for one of the couch pillows. He pulled it into his chest, clutching it tightly like it might hold him together. Yuuji buried his face into the pillow, shoulders shaking as the sobs tore out of him.

There was no one here to hear it. No one to interrupt. No one to stop him.

—

Megumi ended up staying the night again. It had stopped being a rare occurrence after a few weeks. By now it had become routine. Megumi would show up, stay late. And then, without much discussion, he’d just… stay.

Yuuji always felt a small twist of guilt when it happened. ‘I shouldn’t keep asking this of him.’ But the truth was he rarely had to ask. Megumi always seemed willing, more than willing. No hesitation, no annoyance, no obligation in his voice. Just a simple “I’ll stay if you want”, like there was nowhere else he’d rather be.

Yuuji had started to notice the way Megumi looked at him. It wasn’t like anyone else. Like no matter how long this went on—how messy Yuuji got, how broken he felt—Megumi wouldn’t turn away. Wouldn’t get tired of him. Wouldn’t leave.

And when Megumi held him—because he did, more often now— It was always firm, like he didn’t want to let go. There was an intensity to it. Something that, if Yuuji really thought about it, might’ve bordered on possessiveness. But… Yuuji didn’t think about it too hard. Because it felt good.

After everything—the emptiness, the silence, the constant ache of waiting— Having someone there beside him like that, It made it easier to breathe. 

Those intense eyes and steady hands, they were just signs of love–weren’t they?

—

Getting rid of Junpei’s things had been Megumi’s idea.

“If he’s not coming back for them,” Megumi had said one evening, his voice calm, almost clinical, “then you shouldn’t keep these painful reminders here. They just make you feel worse.”

Yuuji had flinched at that.

He wasn’t wrong. Every corner of the house held something, little pieces of Junpei scattered everywhere, and every time Yuuji saw them there was a small spark of hope that Junpei might come back and pick them up. But still…

“…I can’t just throw everything away.” Yuuji had said it quietly. Even thinking about it felt wrong. Pretending those seven years hadn’t happened felt like erasing a part of his soul. “I mean… that’s—” he swallowed. “That’s everything.”

Megumi had watched him carefully then and after a moment, he adjusted. “Then don’t throw them away,” he said. “Just… put them somewhere else.”

Yuuji blinked.

“Out of sight,” Megumi continued. “…And when things get better,” he added, softer this time, “you can go back to them.”

That felt more manageable.

Yuuji nodded slowly. “…Okay.”

So they spent the afternoon packing. Yuuji did most of it himself. Megumi stayed nearby—helping when asked, but mostly just… there. Yuuji moved through the house room by room, gathering pieces of Junpei’s life.

Clothes.

Shoes.

Stacks of scripts and notebooks filled with scribbled ideas.

Model kits in various stages of completion.

DVDs. Old film cases. Posters.

Even photos.

That part had been the hardest. Yuuji had paused more than once, fingers lingering on the edges of frames. Smiles frozen in time. Moments that had once felt so solid. He packed them anyway.

Everything went upstairs to the movie room. It felt… fitting. If there was anywhere Junpei belonged, it was there. The room still smelled faintly like him, or maybe he was just imagining it.

Yuuji stacked the boxes along the wall, one after another, until the space felt crowded.

There was one item that stopped his progress completely, Junpei’s camera. Of everything left behind this one still confused him the most. If there was one thing Yuuji was absolutely sure that Junpei had loved, it was film.

His fingers traced over the body of the camera, turning it slightly, inspecting it without really knowing what he was looking for. He’d never fully understood it. Junpei had tried to teach him once—sat him down, walked him through buttons, settings, lenses— but the thing was almost 20 years out of style, and no matter what Yuuji just couldn’t grasp it. He knew how to turn it on and off, and to insert a new film strip but that was it.

Junpei never seemed like he minded that, but maybe that was just another thing he faked. 

“…You always said this one was your favorite,” Yuuji muttered softly. He stared at it for a moment longer, then carefully he placed it in one of the boxes. Yuuji lingered by the box a little longer than he meant to. His hand hovered over the lid, fingers twitching faintly—like something in him wasn’t quite ready to let go just yet.

He reached back into the box and picked the camera up again. Yuuji turned it over in his hands, his thumb brushing along the side where Junpei’s fingers used to rest. He didn’t really know what he was looking for—just something, anything that might make sense of it. “…Why would you leave this behind…”

He shifted his grip, pressing lightly against one of the buttons. “…Huh?” A faint glow illuminated the small display. “There’s still footage…” Right. Junpei had been working that day, that’s why he invited Megumi over.

This must have been the last thing he worked on. Yuuji swallowed. His fingers moved slowly, almost instinctively, navigating through the interface the way Junpei had once shown him. Clumsy, but good enough to get the right results.

A film strip landed in his hands. If he set everything up he could play it and… Junpei would be there again. His voice, his movements, maybe even his face, for just a little longer. Yuuji’s hand trembled.

“…No.” The word came out sharper than he expected. He pulled his hand back like the camera had burned him. “No… I can’t.”

Not now. He had just started to hold himself together. Hearing Junpei’s voice again or seeing him, it wouldn't comfort him. It wouldn’t give him closure. It would just… break him. Yuuji let out a shaky breath, gripping the camera tighter for a moment before forcing himself to loosen his hold.

“…Not yet.”

He powered the camera off carefully, then reopened the box. The camera and the film were placed side by side, then he closed the box again. “…I’ll come back to it.”

Not today, not tomorrow, but someday. Maybe that would be a month from now. Maybe a year. Maybe never.

He straightened slowly, exhaling through his nose. Megumi was waiting.

—

They had started going on regular outings. Just reasons to leave the house. It had been Megumi’s idea, quiet suggestions slipped into conversation when Yuuji looked like he was sinking too far into himself.

They went to the park. Walked side by side while Kuro and Shiro tugged ahead on their leashes. They stopped at small cafés. Sat across from each other with drinks growing cold between them as they talked—or didn’t. They even went to the movies once. That one had been… harder.

Yuuji hadn’t realized it at first. He’d sat down, popcorn in hand, waiting for the previews to end and then something in his chest twisted. He’d been here before. Not this exact theater, but the same idea. The same rhythm.

Everywhere they went there was always something. A memory. A feeling. A ghost of something that used to be. And no matter how much he tried to stay present—To focus on Megumi, on the moment, on anything else—It always crept in.

Dates with Megumi couldn’t replace– Wait. Dates? 

Yuuji frowned slightly, his hands pausing mid-motion as he trimmed a small section of overgrown greenery in the backyard. No, that wasn’t right. His grip tightened on the clippers. ‘That’s what they were with Junpei.’ But that had been different. This was just… spending time together as friends.

Yuuji’s chest felt tight.

‘Megumi isn’t Junpei.’ The thought came firmer this time. Yuuji exhaled slowly. He couldn’t blur the line between them. That wasn’t fair to Megumi, to their friendship. Yuuji couldn’t just use him as some kind of substitute.

The love he missed… The love he wanted… That wasn’t something he could just take from Megumi.

Even if it felt like Megumi looked at him differently sometimes. Even if his touch lingered just a little longer than necessary. Even if Yuuji found himself holding onto him just a little tighter. 

“Itadori.” Megumi’s voice cut cleanly through his thoughts.

Yuuji flinched slightly, blinking as he looked up. “…Huh?”

Megumi was standing a few feet away, arms crossed, expression flat—but his eyes were sharper than usual. “You’ve been staring at that same patch of dirt for five minutes.”

Yuuji glanced down. The clippers in his hand hadn’t moved. “…Oh.”

“Are you planning on actually helping,” Megumi continued, “or just supervising?” 

Yuuji let out a small, awkward breath. “Sorry, I guess I zoned out.”

“This was your idea,” Megumi reminded. 

Yuuji shifted slightly under the weight of his gaze. “I know but…I wasn’t really… planning anything big for the garden anyway,” he admitted.

Megumi raised an eyebrow faintly. “You weren’t?”

Yuuji shook his head. “I just thought it might be nice to… do something out here. I just wanted…” He trailed off. What he’d wanted was an excuse to see Megumi again, but he couldn’t admit to that. He shouldn’t admit to that. Yuuji swallowed. “…Nothing specific.”

Megumi hummed quietly.

Yuuji looked down at his hands. Dirt under his nails. Clippers still loosely held. ‘I’m using him.’ The realization made his stomach twist. All these outings, all this time together, and he spent all of it treating Megumi like a tool to cure his heartache.

Maybe what he needed was distance. Just enough to stop himself from turning this into something it shouldn’t be.

“We’ve done enough for today.” Yuuji said suddenly. He forced a small smile. “We should head back in and get cleaned up.”

“…Alright.”

They moved inside together. The shift from the warm air outside to the cooler interior of the house felt abrupt. Yuuji led the way down the hall. 

“You can use the guest bathroom,” he said, stopping in front of the door and pushing it open.

Megumi stepped in, glancing around briefly.

Yuuji followed just enough to point things out. “The shower handle’s a little weird,” he said. “You have to turn it left first, then adjust the temperature here.”

Megumi nodded. “Got it.”

Yuuji finished showering first. He changed into clean clothes, towel-drying his hair as he walked back into the living room. The quiet had settled back in. He sank onto the couch, reaching for the remote without really thinking. The TV flickered to life playing some random show, he didn’t care what.

Yuuji leaned back, eyes unfocused as the light from the screen washed over him. A little while later, the sound of footsteps echoed softly down the hall.

“…Itadori.” Megumi’s voice called.

Yuuji turned, and froze. Megumi stood there, towel draped loosely around his shoulders, his hair still damp. Without its usual shape, it fell flatter, softer—dark strands clinging slightly to his forehead, framing his face in a way that felt… familiar.

For one dangerous, fleeting moment he saw Junpei.

Yuuji’s chest tightened sharply. His gaze snapped away almost immediately. ‘Stop that.’ His stomach twisted. That wasn’t fair. That wasn’t right. Megumi wasn’t Junpei. He couldn’t keep doing this, couldn’t keep seeing someone else where he shouldn’t.

“…Hey,” Yuuji said, a bit too stiffly.

Megumi didn’t seem to notice. He walked over and sat down beside him, the couch dipping slightly under his weight. The space between them felt smaller than usual.

The TV kept playing.

Megumi leaned back slightly, his arm resting along the back of the couch—not quite touching Yuuji, but close enough that Yuuji could feel the presence of it.

“Do you want me to stay tonight?” Megumi asked calmly.

It landed differently this time.

Yuuji’s fingers tightened slightly in his lap. “…I don’t know.” He kept his eyes forward. “I mean…” Yuuji exhaled slowly. “You’ve been staying over a lot lately.” Yuuji swallowed. “I don’t want to… rely on you too much,” he added quietly.

“…If you don’t want me to stay, I won’t.” Megumi’s voice was even. “But… you don’t have to feel bad about asking me too.”

Yuuji nodded faintly. “…I’ll think about it.”

The TV flickered.

Yuuji shifted slightly, his eyes drifting—just for a second—toward Megumi. His hair had dried a little. Not as flat now. Closer to normal. But somehow that didn’t help.

Megumi turned his head slightly. “…What?”

Yuuji jerked his gaze away. “Nothing.”

“…You’ve been staring.”

“I wasn’t—”

“You were.”

Yuuji huffed faintly, “I said it’s nothing.”

Megumi didn’t look convinced.

The air between them shifted. Something unspoken settled into the space between them, heavy and electric. The TV droned on in the background, but neither of them heard it anymore.

Yuuji’s heart began to race. Too fast. His thoughts tangled over themselves, one bleeding into the next—grief, confusion, warmth, loneliness—and before he could sort through any of it, before he could stop himself, he moved. He leaned in and kissed Megumi.

It lasted barely a second. Yuuji pulled back like he’d been burned.

“I—” His eyes widened, panic flooding in all at once. “Shit— I’m sorry— I didn’t mean to—”

But the words didn’t get the chance to settle. Megumi moved instantly. His hand came up to the back of Yuuji’s neck, fingers firm as he pulled him forward again. The second kiss landed with intention—deeper, steadier, like something he’d been holding back for far too long.

Yuuji’s breath hitched sharply. His body tensed under the sudden pressure, shoulders going rigid as he tried to process what was happening.

“F-Fushiguro—”

Megumi didn’t stop, didn’t hesitate, like letting go now would mean losing something he’d never get back.

Yuuji pulled away again, this time with more force, breath uneven. “Wait— you shouldn’t—” His voice shook. “I’m not— this isn’t—”

Megumi caught his hand before he could pull away completely. “I’ve always loved you.”

“…What?”

Megumi’s grip tightened slightly. “Since middle school,” he said, voice low but unwavering. “I just never said anything.”

Yuuji stared at him.

Megumi leaned in again, this time slower, brushing his lips against Yuuji’s softly. “I didn’t think I’d lose the chance to tell you,” he murmured, “but before I knew it… you were already taken.”

Yuuji’s breath caught in his throat. “…Fushiguro, I—”

Another kiss.

“I’m so happy…” Megumi whispered against him, his voice barely contained. “That you’ve finally started to see me. That you’re actually… falling for me.” His lips returned to Yuuji’s again, soft but insistent. 

Yuuji’s body stayed tense beneath him.

“Wait— Fushiguro…” he panted, struggling to keep up, to think, to breathe as Megumi’s mouth drifted from his lips to his neck, warmth brushing against sensitive skin. “F-Fushiguro, I’m… I can’t—”

Megumi shifted closer, his presence overwhelming in a way that made it hard to focus on anything else. He rolled their hips together, and slipped his hands down to the hem of Yuuji’s shirt, fingers brushing against bare skin. “Yuuji…” he murmured, voice rough. “I’ve wanted this for so long… please let me—”

“Megumi, wait!” Yuuji’s hands shot up, grabbing onto his wrists. There was a tremble in his grip. His chest rose and fell in shallow bursts, a flush creeping over his cheeks. “I’m sorry…” he said, the words tumbling out. “But when I kissed you… I wasn’t— I wasn’t thinking about you… I— I’m sorry.”

Megumi went still and stared at him blankly. “...What?”

Yuuji’s gaze dropped immediately, unable to hold his. “Your hair…” he said weakly. “It looked a bit like… Junpei’s… and I— I guess I just…” His voice cracked. “I just still miss him so much.” Yuuji swallowed hard, blinking back tears as shame crept up his spine. He had to be the worst person ever. Accidentally leading his best friend on like that because of his own pathetic weakness. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered again. Yuuji let go of Megumi’s wrists slowly. “…I’ll understand if you want to leave.”

Silence followed.

There was a shift in Megumi, Yuuji could feel it. The way something tightened, twisted beneath the surface. He braced himself, heart pounding, waiting for anger, for rejection, for anything that might come next. Would Megumi yell at him? Hit him? Either way he deserved it.

Yuuji risked a glance. Megumi was staring at him. He didn’t move. Didn’t pull away. He just stared. Something inside him was being weighed, something dangerous.

Yuuji’s stomach dropped. “…Megumi?”

“Just think about me.”

Yuuji blinked. “What—”

The rest of the sentence never came. Megumi moved again, pushing him back against the couch in one smooth motion, straddling his hips, closing the space between them entirely.

“From now on,” Megumi said, his voice unyielding “just think about me.” He leaned down again, capturing Yuuji’s lips before he could protest. “I’m the one who’s here,” he murmured against him when he pulled back for just a second. “Focus on me.”

Yuuji’s heart hammered against his ribs. “Megumi—”

“And leave the dead to rot.”

Yuuji flinched at that. “Dead? That’s—”

The protest was swallowed by another kiss. Megumi's lips were soft, and his movements greedy. For a moment Yuuji’s thoughts went quiet. The grief dulled. The ache softened. It wouldn't be too wrong to enjoy this would it? If Megumi was okay with it… If he wanted this…

Yuuji hesitated only a second longer. His arms lifted and wrapped around Megumi’s waist.

When their lips met again, Yuuji kissed him back.

Chapter Text

Megumi’s touch was firmer than Junpei’s had been, he moved without the slightest hesitation. Not so rough that it had ruined things or made Yuuji feel uncomfortable, but enough to steamroll over any lingering hesitation. Pretty soon clothes slipped off, and Yuuji found himself reduced to a panting mess. 

Every time Yuuji was about to second guess himself the thought was cut short by Megumi’s touch. A hand on his hip. A mouth at his collarbone. A thumb pressing into the small of his back just right. 

Megumi didn't ask permission anymore—not in words at least—but he watched. He watched every flicker across Yuuji's face, every sharp inhale, every time his nails dug into Megumi's shoulders. 

He kept things simple, as much as he was dying to completely ravish Yuuji he knew rushing things now would be a mistake. Of course that wouldn’t stop him from getting his fair share of indulgence. Stroking Yuuji to completion–twice–-getting to feel Yuuji’s thighs around his cock once more, and as many kisses as Yuuji would let him get away with.

“I love you,” he breathed, trusting forwards. “Yuuji, I love you. I won’t ever let you go.”

“M-megumi,” Yuuji’s thighs trembled as he leaned in closer. “Stay with me forever!” he begged.

Megumi shuddered in excitement. He knew Yuuji didn’t mean that in the way he wanted, it was just a mindless plea from his emotionally vulnerable state, still it was a request Megumi had no problem in honoring. 

“I will," Megumi murmured against Yuuji's shoulder, lips brushing sweat-slick skin. "I'm not going anywhere."

They stayed like that for a long time. The room grew darker as the last light of evening bled out through the windows. Neither moved to turn on a lamp. The shadows felt safer somehow. Eventually, Yuuji's breathing evened out. The trembling stopped. His grip on Megumi loosened, not in rejection but in exhaustion. 

The TV had gone quiet at some point—maybe it shut itself off, maybe Megumi had reached over and done it. Yuuji couldn't remember. His mind was foggy, limbs heavy, skin still warm where Megumi had touched him. He stared at the ceiling.

What just happened?

Beside him, Megumi shifted. His arm was draped over Yuuji's stomach, possessive even in stillness. His breathing had evened out, but he wasn't asleep. Yuuji could feel Megumi was still watching him.

"You're thinking too loud," Megumi said quietly.

Yuuji didn't answer right away. His throat felt raw. Not from anything Megumi had done. Just from holding back everything he hadn't been able to say for months. "...I… I shouldn't have let that happen," Yuuji finally whispered.

Megumi's arm tensed slightly. "You didn't let it happen, you wanted it to happen."

That wasn't entirely true. Or maybe it was. Yuuji didn't know anymore. His body had responded—had wanted—but his heart was still a mess of wires, crossed and sparking where they shouldn't.

"I was thinking about him," Yuuji admitted quietly. "…you know that."

Megumi was silent for a long moment. Then he sat up, the movement calm but deliberate. His face was unreadable. "Well, I know you weren't thinking about him by the end," Megumi said. 

Yuuji's breath caught. “Yes.. but…” Yuuji turned his head on the cushion. "You said 'leave the dead to rot'," Yuuji said quietly. "That was cruel."

Megumi's jaw tightened. "I know."

"He was my—"

"I know what he was."

A heavy silence followed, loaded with years of things Megumi had never said and Yuuji had never asked. Yuuji turned back to look at him. Megumi’s expression had softened, just slightly. Just enough to let Yuuji see the emotional exhaustion underneath.

"I didn't mean it the way it sounded," Megumi said. "I just meant… don't let him follow you here. Into this." He gestured vaguely between them. 

Yuuji swallowed. He didn't have a response. His grief over Junpei wasn't something he could just set down at the door. "…We should probably clean up," Yuuji said eventually, voice hoarse. “And move somewhere more comfortable.”

"Probably," Megumi agreed.

Neither of them moved.

“Did you… mean what you said,” Yuuji asked nervously. “Have you… really had a crush on me since middle school?”

Megumi looked away and blushed slightly. “I have.”

“Seriously? I never– well obviously I never… I-I mean Junpei joked about it sometimes but— “ Yuuji’s voice faltered, tripping over itself as the thought tried to form. “I thought he was just teasing. I didn’t think it was actually… real.”

Megumi didn’t answer right away. He sat there, shoulders slightly tense, gaze angled away like he suddenly found the far wall far more interesting than Yuuji. “…It was real,” he said finally, quieter now. Megumi let out a small breath through his nose. “You were always… you,” he said, like that alone explained everything. “Easy to be around. Once I realized what I felt I just figured it was just something I’d get over eventually.”

His fingers flexed slightly against the couch cushion. “But then I didn’t. Even after you’d found someone else, my heart still yearned for you more than anything.” Megumi reached out and joined their hands together. “It was always you and only you.”

Yuuji’s heart skipped at that. There was something about hearing it laid out so plainly that made it harder to process. “I’m sorry,” Yuuji said suddenly.

Megumi frowned faintly, glancing back at him. “For what?”

“For not seeing it,” Yuuji replied, his voice softer now. “I feel like I should have noticed something that big.”

“Well, I was intentionally keeping it from you.”

“Still… it’s just,” Yuuji hesitated. “Now that you mentioned it, I can see so many signs in hindsight! Ugh all those times when I—”

Megumi cut him off, more firmly this time. “You were happy,” he said. “That… that was enough for me.”

Yuuji shifted slightly on the couch, the earlier warmth in his body now settling into something heavier. “…Why tell me now?” Yuuji asked after a moment.

“Because I couldn’t pretend anymore.” Megumi’s gaze lifted, meeting his directly now. There was no softness in it, just absolute certainty. “I don’t want to be just the person you call when you’re falling apart,” he continued. “I don’t want to sit there and watch you wait for someone who isn’t coming back.”

Yuuji flinched slightly.

“I know you’re still hurting,” Megumi added, quieter now. “I’m not asking you to suddenly forget everything.” His fingers tightened briefly where they rested. “But I’m here,” he said. “I’ve always been here and always will be.”

The room felt smaller.

“And…” Megumi added quietly “there’s no world where I could completely hold back after you kissed me.”

Yuuji swallowed hard. “…I don’t know if I can give you what you want,” he admitted.

Megumi didn’t look surprised. “I know,” he said.

That almost made it worse.

Yuuji’s gaze dropped to his hands. “I still don’t even know what I want right now,” he continued. “Everything’s just… messed up.” A quiet huff of breath left him. “And I just— I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You already are.”

Yuuji’s head snapped up. That same intensity from earlier flickered back into Megumi’s expression.

Yuuji exhaled slowly. “Yeah… I guess I am, aren’t I?”

“…But that doesn’t mean I’m going anywhere,” Megumi added. “I still want to stay by your side. I’ll just be open with my feelings now.”

Yuuji stared at him. “…You’re stubborn.”

Megumi shrugged faintly. “You’ve known that.”

A weak, breathy laugh slipped out of Yuuji before he could stop it. The tension eased just a fraction. Yuuji leaned his head back against the couch, staring up at the ceiling again. “Did you still want to stay the night?” he asked.

“If you’re still okay with it.”

Yuuji nodded faintly. “…Okay.”

The room fell quiet again.

The both of them sitting there deep on thought caught somewhere between what was, what might be and what should be.

—

Yuuji wasn't fully sure what to call their new arrangement. They’d definitely graduated from being just friends, a fact that was supplemented every time the two of them had devolved into intimacy, but whenever he tried to put a proper label on things Yuuji would come up short.

 Dating felt far too formal for it, and carried a weight of exclusivity Yuuji wasn’t fully ready to commit to. On the other hand, friends with benefits felt too informal. The answer that he circled back to the most was affair, but that wasn’t it either. He and Junpei were…separated at the very least. If Junpei ever actually came back to him he couldn’t possibly count this as cheating. 

‘Of course not, he told you to move on. If he ever comes back it won’t be because he wants you.’ He thought unwantedly. Though it wasn’t exactly false. He should move on, now more than ever. There was someone right in front of him, someone who’d loved him unconditionally from the start. Megumi deserved someone who could properly commit to him. 

Someone who would kiss back without hesitating.

Someone who wouldn’t occasionally imagine another face during sex.

Someone who could actually say, “I love you too”

Could he be that person for Megumi? He wanted to be. 

He wanted to move past all the pain and allow himself to be happy again. Yuuji’s fingers fiddled with his ring. The entire time he still hadn’t moved to get rid of it. The last lifeline of hope connecting to his old life, maybe it was time to cut it. 

Yuuji slid the ring off his finger and headed upstairs to the movie room. He placed it on the table next to Junpei’s and slowly stepped back. He paused at the doorway and sighed. His ring finger felt naked without it, maybe he should— 

Yuuji smacked his hand to his cheeks. No. He was moving forward, letting go. No more holding on to pointless attachments. No loose ends… His eyes darted down to a box. 

Junpei’s last film, that was a loose end. He still hadn’t touched it. Was now the right time? Would he be able to handle it, or would he spiral back into grief? Yuuji slowly moved back inside towards the box. ‘No more loose ends,’ he thought. He’d watch it, then lock this room up and throw away the key. 

Yuuji took the film reel out and readied the rest of the equipment before taking a steady breath and hitting play. 

The screen flickered to life. Pink petals drifted across the frame, carried by a spring breeze. The camera lingered on them, but not in a way that felt careless. It was the kind of shot Junpei always liked, where not much happened and yet everything felt full.

The hum of the projector filled the room. The petals gave way to a wider shot of their backyard. Here, through the lens, it looked… warmer.

Junpei’s voice came next. Soft, a bit raspy, and a little nervous. “…I don’t really know how to start this.”

Yuuji’s breath caught. It had been months since he’d heard it. Oh, how he’d missed the sound of that voice. His fingers curled slightly at his sides. 

“I guess… I’ve never been great at saying things directly. Not when it really matters,” Junpei continued, a faint, self-conscious laugh following. “So I thought maybe… I could just show it instead.”

The footage shifted to show short, stitched together clips.

Yuuji in the kitchen, laughing at something off-camera. Yuuji on the couch, half-asleep with a blanket slipping off his shoulder. Yuuji in the yard, sunlight catching in his hair as he looked up, squinting toward the sky.

“…You always look so carefree,” Junpei’s voice continued quietly. “Like you don’t even realize how bright you are. I think I fell in love with you because of that,” Junpei admitted. 

Yuuji took a small step back. The room suddenly felt too small.

The camera turned around and Junpei’s face came into focus. “Happy anniversary Yuuji,” he beamed. “I love you more than… the entire Human Earthworm franchise!” he turned the camera back to the garden with a small chuckle “No, no, edit that out that’s dumb…” he mumbled.

The footage cut abruptly and then picked back up in the living room. Junpei sat on the couch pointing the camera at himself. “Okay, let me try that again. Happy anniversary Yuuji! You’re my light in the dark, and I love you more than anything. Let’s spend the rest of our lives together.”

Yuuji’s heart pounded in his ears.

Someone entered the frame in the background. Megumi. He stepped out from the kitchen, just barely caught on camera. Something about the way he moved was… off. He was holding something in his hand, a knife. He slowly moved forwards as the camera turned back around and faced the TV.

“Junpei, about Yuuji. I… there’s something—” The audio cut abruptly as did the footage.

The projector continued to hum, but the screen stayed empty. 

Yuuji didn’t move. His mind struggled to catch up with what he’d just seen. “…What…?” That video… it didn’t make sense. His gaze stayed fixed on the blank screen. That had been a love confession. An anniversary gift for him. But… But…. “That’s not—”

That’s not what the note said. That’s not what his actions said. How could he have changed his mind so quickly? And Megumi—

Yuuji’s breathing grew shallow. Everything replayed in his mind. The way Megumi had stepped into frame, the knife in his hand, the way his voice had sounded. Not calm and steady like usual, but something else. Something Yuuji couldn’t quite place but it made his skin prickle. Unease settled in his chest. His hands trembled slightly.

Yuuji took a step back from the projector. The room suddenly felt suffocating. Confusion twisted with something sharper now, something closer to fear. If this was the truth… then what was what he’d been told, what he’d believed, what he’d been trying so hard to accept. 

What really happened? 

Did Junpei… not actually want to leave him? But then if that was true, why did he leave? Where did he go? Why leave that note and the ring? Yuuji’s thoughts spiraled faster and faster, each question colliding into the next until none of them made sense anymore.

His phone rang. The sound was sharp in the quiet room, cutting cleanly through everything. Yuuji flinched, his heart jumping into his throat as he fumbled for it. Megumi. For a second, Yuuji just stared at the name on the screen, his thumb hovering over the answer button. 

“…Hey,” Yuuji said, his voice quieter than usual.

“Hey,” Megumi replied. His tone was steady. Familiar. “You busy?”

Yuuji glanced back at the blank projector screen. “…No.”

“Do you want to come over?” Megumi asked. “I was thinking we could order something. Or just, hang out. I just… really want to see you tonight.”

“…Yeah,” Yuuji said weakly. “Yeah, I can come over.”

Yuuji swallowed. He could just ask.

“Hey, why were you holding a knife while Junpei was filming something?”

“What is it that you wanted to ask him?”

The questions sat right on the edge of his tongue, ready to fall.

“…Megumi, I—” He stopped. His grip tightened around the phone. No. Not over the phone. He had to do this in person to be sure that… well just to be sure. “…I’ll be there soon,” Yuuji finished instead.

“Okay,” Megumi said. “Drive safe.”

The call ended. Yuuji stood there for a moment, the silence rushing back in around him. He turned back toward the table. The ring was still sitting there, right where he’d left it. A few minutes ago, he’d been ready to let it go. Now everything felt… unstable again. Yuuji stepped closer. His fingers trembled slightly as he picked it up.

“…I don’t understand,” he whispered. He turned it over once in his hand, then instead of putting it back he slipped it into his pocket before heading for the door.

—

The drive felt longer than usual, even though there was no traffic. His mind wouldn’t stop racing, replaying the footage over and over. It was the only thing that had felt like the real Junpei in months.

Yuuji tightened his grip on the steering wheel. “What happened?” The question echoed in the quiet car. Nothing lined up. Megumi had said he seemed distracted that day, but the footage… that wasn’t someone pulling away. That wasn’t someone falling out of love. That wasn't someone planning to run out on their husband.

So how? 

Was Megumi just wrong about what he saw? Junpei was pretty good at covering up his emotions.

The idea came suddenly, but it didn’t sit right. Megumi wasn’t the type to misread something like that, nor speak definitely about what people were thinking unless he was certain of what he was saying. If he said Junpei seemed off then he probably was.

Unless…

“…Was he just lying? The thought slipped out instantly. “No…” He shook his head. Megumi wouldn’t lie about something like that. There was no reason to. 

Right?

Yuuji exhaled slowly as Megumi’s apartment came into view. Yuuji slowed the car, pulling into the parking spot like he’d done so many times before. He was overthinking. Panicking about nothing. There had to be a reasonable explanation. Something he just wasn’t seeing yet. Yuuji shut off the engine and sat there for a moment, staring at the building. Just ask him. Once he did, everything would fall into place.

Yuuji headed up the stairs and knocked on Megumi’s door. It opened almost immediately and before he could even speak he was pulled in. Megumi’s arms wrapped tightly around him. The force of it caught Yuuji off guard, his breath hitching as he was drawn close.

Megumi didn’t stop there. His lips brushed against Yuuji’s neck, trailing upward with quiet urgency. “Yuuji,” Megumi murmured against his skin, voice low, almost breathless. “Did you have a good day?”

“Y-yeah…” Yuuji answered, though it came out softer than intended.

Megumi didn’t seem to register his response, or if he did he didn’t linger on it. The door shut behind them with a quiet click, and in the same motion Megumi guided him back against it, closing the space between them completely.

Yuuji barely had time to react before Megumi leaned in again, capturing his lips in a deeper kiss—one that carried a quiet, restrained intensity beneath it. A low sound escaped Megumi’s throat as he pulled back just slightly, pressing his forehead briefly against Yuuji’s before dropping his face back into the crook of his neck.

“F-Fushiguro—” Yuuji gasped softly as Megumi shifted closer, the proximity suddenly overwhelming. “Already this excited? I just got here…”

“Megumi,” he corrected immediately, his voice firmer this time, though still edged with something softer underneath. “You promised, remember? If I kiss you when we’re together, you’re supposed to call me Megumi.” His hand drifted lower resting at Yuuji’s waist. “And of course I’m excited,” Megumi added, quieter now, almost against his skin. “I’ve been craving you all day.” His lips brushed Yuuji’s neck again, slower this time. “Come on,” he murmured. “Let’s go to my room.”

The shift from the doorway to the bedroom happened quickly. Yuuji barely had time to gather his thoughts before he found himself lying with his back against the mattress, and Megumi looming over him.

There it was. That hungry look. The one Yuuji had come to recognize over time. Once it appeared, Megumi didn’t usually stop. Yuuji’s chest tightened slightly. He needed to say something before it went too far. Before the moment swallowed everything else, and he forgot what he wanted to say. 

Megumi leaned in for another kiss, closing the distance once more.

“Wait— wait!” Yuuji pushed himself upright quickly, breath uneven as he put a small but firm space between them. “Megumi!”

Megumi paused. Not fully pulling away.

Yuuji swallowed, trying to steady himself. “Can we… pause for a second?” he asked, voice softer now but still urgent. “There’s something important I wanna ask you.”

“What’s wrong?” Megumi asked. A curious smirk crossed his face, “Oh, did you wanna try something new tonight? I’ll admit I’d love for you to–”

“No, no! It’s not about sex.” Yuuji interrupted, “It’s… about Junpei.” 

The shift was immediate, like a switch had been flipped. The heat from moments ago, the quiet urgency in his movements, all of it drained away, leaving something colder behind. “What about him?” Megumi asked.

Yuuji swallowed, suddenly aware of how fast his heart was beating. “W-well, I just…” he started, his words stumbling over themselves as he tried to organize everything. “I watched the last bit of recorded film that was on his camera and…” He hesitated a moment wondering how best to phrase it. “He seemed so happy,” Yuuji finished, quieter now. “And… still in love with me.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “Who knows how old that recording was—”

“No,” Yuuji cut in, sharper this time. “It was from the day he left!” The words came faster now, pushed forward by something building in his chest. “It was an anniversary video,” he continued, sitting up straighter despite the tension in the room. “He said it himself—he said ‘happy anniversary.’”

Megumi didn’t respond.

Yuuji’s fingers curled slightly into the bedsheets. “And you were in it,” he added, his voice dropping, more uncertain now but no less pressing. “In the background… coming out of the kitchen.”

Megumi’s eyes sharpened.

“You had a knife,” Yuuji continued, his throat tightening. “And you said,” He hesitated again. “You said you had something you wanted to tell him. About me. What happened between you two?” 

“Nothing,” Megumi said after a beat. “It’s exactly as I told you before.”

Yuuji stared at him for a moment then something in his chest snapped. “I don’t believe that!” The words came out louder than he expected.

Megumi’s eyes narrowed slightly. “…You don’t believe me?”

“No! Because it doesn’t make sense!” Yuuji pushed himself up further, his voice shaking now. “He was happy, Megumi! He was talking about loving me, about our future—” His breathing grew uneven. “So how did he go from that to just… leaving? To writing a goodbye note that claims the exact opposite? To never coming back or speaking to me again?” 

His voice softened, but only slightly. “You said he was distant that day,” he continued. “That he seemed off. But that’s not what I saw.” Yuuji’s chest rose and fell, his hands trembling slightly as he held Megumi’s gaze. “Megumi,” Yuuji said, more carefully now, like he was stepping onto unstable ground. “Please tell me what actually happened.”

Megumi exhaled slowly. “I didn’t want to tell you this.”

Yuuji’s chest tightened. “Tell me what?”

Megumi still wasn’t looking at him. His gaze stayed fixed somewhere off to the side. “The truth is…” he started, quieter now. “Junpei thought we were having an affair.”

Yuuji blinked. “…What?”

“He saw something on my phone,” Megumi continued. “Figured out I had feelings for you, and since we’ve known each other forever… he jumped to the wrong conclusion.”

Yuuji’s stomach dropped.

“He thought something was already going on between us,” Megumi said. “That you were cheating on him.”

Yuuji shook his head immediately. “What but I’d never—”

“And before I could explain,” Megumi added, finally pushing himself off the bed and turning slightly away, “he kicked me out.” The words landed flat. “After everything that happened, I figured…” Megumi continued, his voice dipping, “it would be better if you didn’t know. I thought maybe if I stayed out of it… you two could work things out.” A quiet pause. “…plus I didn’t want you to hate me over it.”

Yuuji sat on the edge of the bed, trying to process what he’d just heard. An affair? That didn’t—

“No.” The word came out firmer this time. Yuuji stood. “You’re lying.”

Megumi’s shoulders tensed slightly. “I’m not—”

“You are,” Yuuji cut in, stepping closer. “None of his notes said anything about that!” His hands curled at his sides. “If he thought I was cheating on him, he wouldn’t have just… run away!” Yuuji’s voice cracked. “He would’ve confronted me! He would’ve yelled at me!” He took another step forward, closing the space between them. “W-why can’t you just tell me the truth?” he asked, quieter now, but no less intense.

Megumi finally turned to face him fully. “I am telling the truth.”

The firmness in his voice only made something twist tighter in Yuuji’s chest. “No, you’re not!” The frustration spilled over now. “If you thought he was mad about me cheating, and you wanted us to reconcile, why didn’t you tell me sooner?!”

Megumi didn’t answer immediately. “Yuuji—”

“No!” Yuuji shook his head, stepping back this time, like he needed distance to even think. “Just—just tell me the truth!” he said, his voice breaking. “Have… have you known where he was this whole time?”

The question hung there.

Yuuji’s breathing grew uneven. “Are you two the ones having an affair?” he added, the words coming out rushed, desperate, like he didn’t even believe them himself. “I just— I don’t understand—” His voice dropped. “Why can’t you tell me?”

Megumi stared at him.

The silence stretched thin. Yuuji could feel it trembling, like it might snap at any second.

His heart pounded harder in his chest, each beat louder than the last. “…Why did you have a knife?” Yuuji asked. He swallowed, forcing the words out before he could lose the nerve. “Why did you sound so… sinister when you approached him?” His voice wavered, but he kept going. “And… what was that stain in your car trunk?”

Megumi blinked. “What?”

“That day,” Yuuji pressed, his breath uneven now. “When we brought home Kuro and Shiro. I saw it. In your trunk.” His hands trembled slightly. “It was reddish brown, like… like dried blood.” The memory made his stomach twist. “And you— you acted weird when I noticed it and moved me away. And then the next time I checked it was gone.”

Megumi let out a sharp breath. “Now you’re bringing that up?” he said, his tone shifting with irritation. “Yuuji, you’re being completely unreasonable—”

“Why did you have a knife?!” Yuuji shouted. The words echoed in the room. Then, quieter, he asked the one thing he was afraid to voice. “…What did you do to him?”

Megumi’s expression hardened. “Yuuji… you can’t seriously think I hurt him over these tiny coincidences.”

Yuuji didn’t back down. “What did you do?” he asked again, his voice breaking under the weight of it. “Megumi, please… just tell me what you did!”

Megumi’s posture shifted. His shoulders relaxed, not with relief, but with resignation. His eyes lost the last bit of restraint they sported and turned possessive and hungry once more.

A cold spike of instinct shot through Yuuji. He took a step back, but he didn’t get far. Megumi’s hand shot out, gripping his wrist.

“…Megumi?”

“…You should have been mine.” The words came out low.

Yuuji froze. “…What?”

Megumi’s grip tightened further, his gaze locking onto Yuuji in a way that made his chest constrict. “The entire time,” Megumi murmured, “You should have been mine.”

Yuuji’s pulse spiked. “Megumi— you’re hurting—”

“Why him?” Megumi snapped suddenly, his voice rising, cracking through the room. “Why not me?!”

Yuuji flinched.

“I was there first,” Megumi continued, the words spilling out now, years of something buried finally breaking loose. “I knew you first. I stayed. I watched. I waited.” His grip didn’t loosen. “If anyone was supposed to be by your side,” His voice dropped again. “It was me.”

Yuuji’s breathing turned shallow. Something was very, very wrong.

The pieces in Yuuji’s mind began to shift. The knife. The stain. The note. The lies. Megumi was the last person to see Junpei. Megumi was the only one who would know if—

“…What did you do?” Yuuji whispered again, voice full of fear.

Megumi didn’t answer. “You’re still holding onto him,” he said quietly.

“…I—”

“I told you,” Megumi continued, his voice eerily calm now. “Leave the dead to rot.” The words hit differently this time.

Yuuji’s breath caught. “…You… did you…?”

Megumi smiled.

“…No…” Yuuji’s voice shook. “…No, you didn’t—” Yuuji tried to pull his wrist free. “Let go of me!”

But Megumi didn’t. “I loved you,” he said calmly and stepped closer. “And he was in the way.”

Yuuji’s vision blurred.

“I let him have much more time with you than he deserved,” Megumi continued, like he was explaining something simple. “if I had done this sooner…” His voice dipped lower. “Maybe then you wouldn’t have been such a mess.” Megumi’s expression darkened further. “I should have done it the moment you two got together.” 

The room felt like it tilted. Yuuji’s legs threatened to give out. “…You— How could you–” His voice wouldn’t come out.

Megumi watched him carefully. “I did it for you,” he said softly. “For us.”

Yuuji’s stomach churned violently. “Don’t—” he choked out. “Don’t say that—”

Megumi’s grip tightened again. “You don’t have to be scared anymore,” he continued, like he hadn’t heard him. “There’s nothing tying you down now.”

Yuuji shook his head frantically. “No— no, that’s not— you’re a—”

Megumi stepped closer again. “There’s just me.”

Yuuji’s back hit the edge of the bed. Nowhere left to go.

Megumi exhaled softly, something almost wistful flickering across his expression. “Ah… having something pure with you was nice while it lasted,” he said, his tone calm in a way that didn’t match the tension in his grip. “But I won’t lie… I’ve been wanting more.” A faint flush crept across his face as he spoke.

Before Yuuji could react, Megumi pushed him back. The mattress dipped with a dull thump as Yuuji landed, breath knocked from his lungs for just a second. Megumi followed immediately, settling over him, caging him in. One hand pinned Yuuji’s wrists above his head, firmly enough that it wasn’t something Yuuji could easily pull away from. The other braced beside his shoulder, keeping him grounded in place.

“I told you,” Megumi murmured, leaning down just enough that his breath brushed against Yuuji’s skin. “I’ve been craving you.” Megumi’s gaze moved over Yuuji’s face slowly, taking him in like he was committing every detail to memory. “Won’t you let me have you properly?” 

Chapter Text

Yuuji’s mind felt completely fractured. He could see Megumi above him, feel the way his hands were roaming over his skin, hear his panting and endless declarations of love, and yet at the same time he was registering none of it. It was like his body was being piloted by someone else while his consciousness slowly faded in and out. 

How long had they been like this? 

Yuuji’s eyes drifted to the window. The sun had definitely gone down from the last time he’d checked. His body felt sore and out of energy. Megumi was still trusting into him, but Yuuji’s cock lay flaccid and just the thought of getting it up again sent a jolt of pain through him. 

Yuuji felt a sudden bite at his neck interrupting his thoughts.

“Yuuji,” Megumi gasped, breath tickling his neck. “I love you so much. You’re mine and mine alone!”

Yuuji couldn’t muster more than a light groan in response. 

“Oh, you’re not protesting anymore?” Megumi asked in breathless curiosity. “That’s good. Much better.” 

He wasn’t? Why not? He certainly wanted to. Yuuji tried to speak but felt his voice crack before he could finish a full sentence. Right, that was why. He’d blown out his voice from yelling at some point. Five minutes ago, or maybe more. 

Megumi’s thrusts picked up a sudden erratic speed, culminating in once final slam as he came hard with a shudder. He pulled out then flopped on top of Yuuji’s body, nuzzling into his chest. “You tire out pretty quickly, was he not treating you well enough?” he said with a smug grin. “Well, we can work on that.”

“I-I–” Yuuji tried to speak again but failed, voice cracking on every syllable he tried to make.

Megumi’s voice softened, tender in a way that made the words land heavier. “Oh, don’t strain yourself, darling,” he murmured, shifting slightly so he could pull Yuuji closer against him, one arm wrapped securely around his shoulders. “I’ll get something for your throat soon… but for now, let’s just stay like this.” His fingers moved slowly across Yuuji’s chest, tracing absent patterns. 

“I can finally be honest with you,” Megumi continued in a quiet whisper, his breath warm against Yuuji’s skin. “No more pretending to be normal. No more holding back.” His hand stilled briefly, “I don’t ever want anyone else to have you,” he said. “You belong to me, Yuuji.”

Something twisted in Yuuji’s chest. A reaction tried to form—words clawing their way up from somewhere deep, desperate to be said, to be heard.

I don’t belong to you.

Why did you kill him?

You’re not the Megumi I know.

Don’t ever touch me again!

They surged forward, and stopped. Driven straight into a wall. His body refused to let them through. His vision blurred, the edges of the room softening, as if something was pulling him under.

Megumi’s voice became distant. The warmth around him remained, heavy and suffocating. His thoughts slipped. Everything went dark.

—

When Yuuji woke again, the world felt like everything had been wrapped in cotton. He blinked slowly, his eyes adjusting to the darkness of the room. For a moment, he didn’t recognize where he was. Then it all came flooding back.

Yuuji inhaled sharply. His body felt… different. Clean, at least physically clean. His clothes had been changed, and a blanket was tucked around him. Megumi must have done this after he passed out. He looked around the space for clarity. The room was empty aside from him, and the sun had long set outside. 

Yuuji’s stomach churned. He pushed himself up from the mattress. Pain shot through him—sharp enough to make his breath hitch—but he forced himself to move anyway. Staying still felt worse.

He swung his legs over the edge of the bed, pausing only briefly before standing. The room swayed slightly, his balance unsteady, but he managed. Step by step. Out of the bedroom. Down the hall. Each movement felt heavier than the last, like his body didn’t quite belong to him yet.

When he reached the living room Megumi was there sitting on the couch watching TV. He looked up almost immediately. “Yuuji, you’re finally awake.” Relief flickered briefly across his face before settling back into something more controlled. “Good,” he added, reaching over to the coffee table where a mug sat waiting. “I made you some tea. It’ll help your throat—prevent any serious damage.”

He picked it up and held it out slightly, Yuuji just stood there.

“Oh, you’re worried I put something in it aren’t you?” Megumi asked with a light chuckle. “Don’t worry. It’s completely safe, if a bit cold. I just want to make sure you don’t permanently lose your voice.”

Yuuji stepped forward, trembling slightly. He picked up the mug and sat on the far side of the couch, a good distance away from Megumi. The room temperature liquid soothed the burning sensation in his throat. He hadn’t fully realized just how much it was hurting until then. He finished the entire thing quite quickly then paused. His eyes drifted to Megumi who was sitting there calmly just watching him. 

“You’re probably still feeling dehydrated aren’t you? Want me to get you some water?” Megumi held his hand out, motioning for Yuuji to hand him the empty mug.

Yuuji handed it over slowly then nodded his head unconsciously. 

Megumi stood and took the mug to the kitchen, a few moments later he returned with a glass of water. He set it down on the table next to his side of the couch, then turned to face Yuuji. “Come on, sit next to me. I won't bite,” he said, patting the couch cushion next to him. 

Yuuji hesitated then slowly inched closer. When he was right at Megumi’s side he was handed the glass. As he took his first sip, Megumi’s arm slinked around his waist to hold him in place.

“I figure I don’t need to tell you this, but you’re going to be staying here,” Megumi said firmly. “Trying to run or report me to anyone will only lead to punishment,” he continued. “You don’t want that do you?”

Yuuji’s fingers tightened slightly around the glass, the faint clink of it against his teeth the only sound in the room for a moment as he took another sip. His throat still burned, but less now. He might be able to speak. “…Megumi,” he tried, his voice rough, strained—barely more than a whisper.

Megumi’s arm tightened slightly around his waist at the sound, his attention sharpening immediately. “Careful,” he said softly. “Don’t push it too much yet.”

Yuuji swallowed. The water felt cold going down. He forced himself to keep his breathing steady.

“You…” he started again, slower this time. “You can’t… keep me here.”

“I can,” Megumi said simply.

Yuuji’s chest tightened. “No—”

“I can,” Megumi repeated, cutting him off, his tone still even. “And I will.”

Yuuji’s grip tightened on the glass.

“You don’t have to be scared,” Megumi said, softer this time. “I’m not going to hurt you. Well… as long as you behave I won’t hurt you.” A small smile graced Megumi’s face. 

Yuuji’s throat tightened. “This isn’t… What's wrong with you? I thought you… you said that you loved me,” he said, the words scraping against his throat as he forced them out. “You don’t— you don’t do this to someone you love.”

“This is all proof of my devotion to you.” Megumi’s gaze didn’t waver. “I have to keep you safe.”

Yuuji shook his head weakly. “No… you—”

Megumi tilted his head slightly, studying him. “You’ll understand eventually.”

Yuuji flinched. “I don’t want to understand,” he said, a little stronger now despite the strain. “I want to go home.”

“This is your home now,” Megumi replied. “You’re exactly where you need to be.”

The finality in his voice made Yuuji’s stomach drop.

“You… Junpei, you killed him…” he said quietly. “How… how could you?” 

Megumi didn’t answer. His expression didn’t change in any obvious way, but something behind his eyes shifted again. Not the explosive anger from before or the desperate hunger. Something colder. Like he had already made peace with the answer long before Yuuji ever asked.

“Because he was in the way,” Megumi said at last. Megumi’s arm around his waist tightened slightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to remind him he wasn’t going anywhere. “Junpei wouldn’t let you go, and neither would I, so we fought and I won.”

Yuuji shook his head weakly. “No… no, that’s not—”

“Now I get to enjoy my prize for all eternity,” Megumi said, speaking over him. He leaned in and gave Yuuji a soft kiss on his cheek and then exhaled slowly, like he was forcing himself back under control. “But the reason why doesn’t matter anymore,” he said, quieter now. “He’s gone, and that’s that.”

Yuuji’s vision blurred. “You don’t get to decide that his life doesn’t matter!” Yuuji shouted, then broke into a coughing fit. 

“I didn’t say it didn’t matter,” Megumi replied. “It’ll always matter. Just thinking about all the years I’d wasted without you by my side because of him means I’ll never truly forget him even if I wanted to. But it doesn’t matter why he’s gone.”

Yuuji’s hands shook harder now. “You took him away from me,” he said, voice breaking. “You don’t get to just— step into his place like nothing happened. You can’t replace him. You won’t—”

“I’m not ‘replacing’ him.” Megumi leaned in slightly, his voice dropping lower. “I’m taking something that should have been mine from the beginning.” His hand slid from Yuuji’s waist to rest against his side, thumb brushing lightly. 

Yuuji recoiled as much as the grip allowed.

“You’re scared, it’s ok,” Megumi continued, voice softer now. “You only just now learned that you truly lost him, anyone would struggle to adjust. So I’ll give you some time to process.”

Yuuji stared at him. “…Process?”

Megumi nodded slightly. “Eventually you’ll see that you lost him to something better.”

Yuuji felt something inside him snap again. “This isn’t better!” he said, his voice cracking despite the pain in his throat. “This is wrong! Everything about this is wrong!”

Megumi’s expression didn’t shift. “If it were wrong,” he said, “you wouldn’t have kissed me.”

Yuuji froze. The memory hit hard. “I— that was—”

“You wanted me,” Megumi continued, watching him closely. “You were ready to move on with me.”

“No,” Yuuji shook his head, panic creeping back in. “No, I was confused, I was— I thought you were—”

Megumi’s gaze sharpened. “Thought I was him?” The silence that followed answered for him. Megumi’s jaw tightened. “…Then I’ll just have to make sure you don’t make that mistake again.”

Yuuji’s chest tightened.

“I’ll give you new memories,” Megumi said simply. “Better ones.”

Yuuji felt his hands go cold.

“You don’t need him,” Megumi continued, almost gently now. “Not when I’m right here.”

Yuuji shook his head, weaker this time. “…I hate you,” he whispered. “I won’t ever forgive you for this.”

“…You don’t mean that.” Megumi said it with certainty, like he had decided that answer for himself.

Yuuji didn’t respond. Part of him knew whatever he said wouldn't change anything.

Megumi’s grip softened slightly again. “You’ll calm down with time,” he said quietly. “And when you do… you’ll see things the way I do.” Megumi stood up from the couch with a huff. “I’ll get dinner warmed up for you.” He disappeared into the kitchen and Yuuji just sat in shock. 

Was this really happening? 

The glass slipped from his hand, and shattered across the wood floor. Yuuji felt tears welling up in his eyes again. 

Why him? This wasn’t fair. 

—

Megumi stared at his phone for a full minute contemplating if he should call. It would all be such a hassle—the moving, the packing, the call itself. But if it was for the sake of his happy ending with Yuuji…

Megumi frowned. 

Yuuji had been reported missing by Nanami a few days ago after he’d stopped showing up to work. Megumi knew he wasn’t anywhere close to being a suspect, but being in the same city as the search still made him feel antsy. Especially since Yuuji was still… adjusting. He’d fight and scream until he tired himself out then he’d wake up and start the whole process over again.

Megumi had started restraining and gagging him to keep him under control. But he did still occasionally get looks from his neighbors that told him they were suspecting… something. If just one of them had seen Yuuji come to visit him and then recognized his face on the news… 

He picked up the phone and dialed his father’s number. As soon as the line connected Megumi spoke. “How much will it cost to make some fake identification?” he asked.

“What? You in trouble kid?” Toji asked in annoyed confusion. “Aren’t you a bit too old to be getting in fights with strangers—”

“I didn’t get into a fight. Answer my question.”

“What do you need it for?”

“None of your business old man. Just tell me the price!” Megumi hissed. 

“The price depends on what you need it for, obviously.”

Megumi sighed. He didn’t want to explain this to his father. It was… embarrassing. He knew that Toji knew about his feelings for Yuuji—unfortunetly he’d caught sight of his first Yuuji shrine when they’d lived under the same roof—maybe that’s why talking about it bothered him so much. No one but Yuuji should be allowed to see the true depth of his devotion.

“Hey, kid did you hear me?”

“It’s… about Yuuji. I…um, I want– I need fake identification so the two of us can disappear together somewhere quiet.”

“Oh, that friend of yours that you’re obsessed with?”

Megumi’s jaw tightened immediately. “Don’t call him that.”

A short pause crackled through the line. Then a low, amused huff. “…Yeah,” Toji Fushiguro drawled. “That’s definitely the one.”

Megumi’s grip on the phone tightened, his knuckles paling. “I’m serious,” he said flatly. “I need documents. Two sets. Enough to create a new life.”

There was a shift on the other end—subtle, but noticeable. The teasing didn’t fully disappear, but it dulled, replaced with something more assessing. “…You finally snap or something?” Toji asked.

Megumi didn’t answer.

“…Huh,” Toji muttered. “So you’re planning to disappear with him.”

“Yes.”

“And he’s on board with that?” Toji asked casually.

Another stretch of silence.

“Right.” Toji clicked his tongue. “Well, if you’re gonna do something this messy, don’t half-ass it.” Toji replied, his tone sharpening just slightly.

“I’m not ‘half-assing’ anything.” Megumi’s expression tightened. “I’ve handled everything so far. Just give me the price.”

Toji sighed. “Two identities, clean enough to hold up under basic checks? You’re looking at a decent chunk. More if you want backstory, records.”

Megumi didn’t flinch. “I have the money.”

“I know you do,” Toji replied. “That’s not the problem.”

Megumi’s patience thinned. “Then what is?”

“…You sure you thought this through?” Toji asked.

The question landed differently.

Megumi’s brows furrowed. “I have.”

“You’re talking about uprooting your entire life,” Toji continued. “Cutting off every connection you’ve got. The second people notice you’ve both disappeared you’ll be a suspect, you’ll never be able to undo your choice.”

“I don’t need anything else,” Megumi said immediately.

“…Right. And when he tries to run?”

Megumi’s eyes darkened again. “I won’t let him escape me.”

“Alright. I’ll get you what you need,” he said.

Megumi’s shoulders eased. “How long?”

“Couple days if I rush it. Longer if you want it airtight.”

“Don’t rush it,” Megumi said immediately.

“Figured,” Toji let out a quiet chuckle. “You planning on leaving the country?” he asked.

Megumi glanced toward the hallway. “No, just…somewhere quiet,” he said. 

“It’ll be 20000 yen,” Toji hummed. “Payment needs to be upfront.”

“I’ll transfer it.”

A short silence passed.

“…Hey,” Toji said.

Megumi frowned slightly. “What?”

“Are you happy with this,” Toji asked, tone almost conversational again, “the loveless kidnapping arrangement I mean.”

“I am. Yuuji will love me soon enough."

“…Yeah,” he said. “That’s what you think.” The line went dead.

Megumi lowered the phone slowly, stewing with irritation. What did that old man know anyways? His gaze drifted back toward the bedroom. His expression softened.

“…It’ll be fine,” he murmured to himself. He slipped the phone into his pocket and started down the hall. Everything was coming together. Just a little longer and Yuuji wouldn’t have anywhere else to go. Anywhere else to belong. Anywhere else to belong but right by his side.

They should start over somewhere nice and simple. Rural enough for nosy neighbors to not be a factor. The mountains maybe? No, that would be too isolated. Then maybe a small coastal town. 

Megumi pulled out his phone and began to search for potential locations. He’d have to call his father again and make a request for a house to be set up. He should also make sure to ask for some extra equipment to make sure he could monitor Yuuji as well as possible. 

Megumi felt himself smile. At long last, his darling Yuuji was fully his. Their future was just getting started. 

Chapter Text

Kento Nanami stared at the missing persons report for so long that the words had started to blur together. Each line felt colder than the last. The fluorescent lights above his desk hummed faintly, casting the social work office in a dull evening glow. Most of the staff had already gone home hours ago. Nanami remained seated, sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms, tie loosened slightly—not from comfort, but exhaustion.

Yuuji had been missing for at least six days, and there weren’t any clues to be found. No sightings. No transactions on his cards. No calls. No trail of any kind.

Nanami leaned back slightly in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose as a dull headache throbbed behind his eyes. “…Where did you go?” he murmured quietly.

It didn’t make sense.

Yuuji’s car had been found exactly where it should have been—parked outside his house. The house itself showed no signs of struggle. No blood. No overturned furniture. No forced entry. But Nanami knew Yuuji well enough to understand that he just wouldn’t normally disappear without saying something.

At first he’d feared the worst. Feared that the strain had finally become too much. Yuuji had deteriorated rapidly after Junpei vanished. He stopped eating properly, stopped sleeping, stopped taking care of himself unless someone physically pushed him to do it, and even months later he still waited. Still left notes by the door begging Junpei to come home. Still checked his phone constantly. Still looked at every passing car like maybe this time it would be different. 

Nanami’s jaw tightened slightly. The possibility sat in the back of his mind constantly now, ugly and persistent—Yuuji might have given up on everything. But something about it felt wrong. There was a nagging feeling in the back of his mind that told him Yuuji was still kicking somewhere out there. 

Nanami leaned back in his chair again, gaze drifting toward the dark office windows. For now all he could do was let the professionals search. It was frustrating in a way he wasn’t used to. His phone buzzed softly against the desk. Nanami glanced down. Another update from the police, another dead end. He set the phone back down with a quiet sigh. “…Itadori-kun,” he murmured.

His gaze drifted briefly toward the empty desk Yuuji normally occupied, it looked wrong sitting untouched. The entire office felt quieter without him. Nanami stood slowly, collecting the scattered reports into a neat pile before slipping them back into the folder. Someone out there knew what happened to Itadori, and Nanami intended to find them.

—

The park was nearly empty by the time Megumi arrived. Late afternoon sunlight filtered through the trees in long streaks, casting shifting shadows across the walking paths. Somewhere in the distance, children laughed near the playground, their voices faint and distorted by the wind. He shoved his hands deeper into his pockets as he approached the bench near the far end of the park.

His father was already there. Lounging across the bench like he didn’t have a care in the world, one arm stretched lazily along the backrest while the other held a canned coffee. A black duffel bag rested at his feet.

“To your left,” Toji said without looking up. “You look as gloomy as ever.”

Megumi ignored him, stepping around the bench and grabbing the duffel bag. It was heavier than he expected. “Everything’s in there?” he asked.

“IDs, supporting documents, burner phones,” Toji replied casually. “As well as the… conditioning tools you requested.”

Megumi crouched slightly, unzipping the bag just enough to glance inside. His grip tightened slightly around the zipper before he closed it again. “…Good.”

Toji finally looked over at him then. His gaze lingered a little too knowingly. “So,” he said, dragging the word out slightly. “How’s married life?”

Megumi’s expression flattened immediately. “We’re not married.”

“You're not? So you’re taking your time then,” Toji asked with a smirk.

Megumi looked away. “I have things under control.” The answer was vague on purpose.

Toji noticed instantly. A low chuckle rumbled out of him as he leaned back further against the bench. “So you still haven’t fully broken him is what I’m hearing.”

Megumi’s eyes narrowed sharply. “He’s adjusting.”

Toji barked out a laugh. “Jesus, you really are gone.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened. “He’ll understand eventually.”

“Sure,” Toji said easily, clearly unconvinced. “But you might wanna avoid pushing too hard if you’re trying to keep him functional.”

Megumi frowned slightly.

Toji waved his coffee can lazily. “I’m serious. You’re not trying to lobotomize the kid, right?”

Megumi looked disgusted. “Obviously not.”

“Then take it slow.”

Megumi’s brows furrowed.

Toji sighed dramatically, like he couldn’t believe he had to explain this. “You finally got what you wanted after obsessing over him for what—ten years?” he said. “You don’t need to speedrun the whole thing.”

Megumi’s face darkened slightly at the word obsessing.

“You’ve got time now,” Toji continued. “All the time in the world, assuming you don’t screw this up.”

Megumi looked away. His scowl lessened, but only slightly. “…Your romantic advice is as unhelpful as always,” he muttered.

Toji scoffed loudly. “You’ve never listened to my advice.”

Megumi rolled his eyes. “Because it’s terrible.”

“Oh yeah?” Toji leaned forward slightly, grinning now. “Maybe if you’d shown him that creepy little shrine of yours when I told you to, we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Megumi’s face immediately flushed dark with irritation. “It wasn’t creepy.”

Toji stared at him for a full second. “…Kid, you had kept his stolen trash in labeled plastic sleeves.”

Megumi looked genuinely defensive. “They were important.”

Toji burst out laughing again.

Megumi stood abruptly from the bench. “I’m leaving.”

“Oh come on, don’t get sensitive now,” Toji said through his laughter. “I’m just saying honesty could’ve saved you a murder charge.”

“Lower your voice.”

That at least made Toji wave a dismissive hand. “Relax. No one’s listening.”

Megumi grabbed the duffel bag fully now, slinging it over his shoulder. “I need to get back,” he said flatly. “We’re leaving as soon as possible and I still need to pack some things.” His thoughts had already drifted back to Yuuji. He’d left him restrained this time. Yuuji fought less when he knew struggling wouldn’t work. Still… he didn’t like leaving him alone too long.

Toji watched the shift in his expression and smirked knowingly. “Well…you know who to call if you need another favor. For the right price of course.”

Megumi shot him one last glare then turned and started walking away.

Behind him, Toji called out casually “Hey!”

Megumi didn’t stop.

“If he bites your hand hard enough to bleed,” Toji shouted after him, “you’re probably moving too fast!”

Megumi’s shoulders stiffened. “…Shut up.”

Toji laughed loud enough for half the park to hear it.

Megumi kept walking.

—

Megumi returned to the apartment just after sunset. The hallway outside was quiet, the building wrapped in that muted stillness that came once most people had settled in for the night. He unlocked the door carefully, slipping inside with the duffel bag slung over one shoulder and a small paper shopping bag dangling from his other hand. Megumi locked the door behind him immediately, then checked the bedroom first. 

Of course, Yuuji was exactly where he’d left him. Tied to the bed, wrists restrained securely against the frame, ankles bound just tightly enough to stop him from kicking free. The soft black mouth guard strapped over the lower half of his face muffled any coherent sounds into frustrated, distorted noise.

His eyes snapped toward the door the second Megumi entered. Anger, fear, and exhaustion all mixed together.

Megumi’s chest tightened warmly at the sight. “…Hey,” he said softly.

Yuuji immediately jerked against the restraints. The bedframe rattled faintly.

Megumi smiled despite himself. “You’ve been awake the whole time?” he asked as he stepped closer. “You should really rest more.”

Yuuji made another muffled sound that was clearly not pleasant.

Megumi set the duffel bag near the wall before lifting the smaller shopping bag onto the bedside table.

“I brought you something,” he said casually. “But before that…” He sat carefully on the edge of the mattress. “…I have good news.”

Yuuji stilled slightly at that.

Megumi reached up slowly and unbuckled the mouth guard. The straps loosened with a soft snap before he finally pulled it away completely.

Yuuji inhaled sharply the second his mouth was free, jaw tensing as he worked it carefully. “…Fuck you,” he rasped immediately.

Megumi laughed quietly under his breath. “Hello to you too.”

Yuuji glared at him. It still looked strange seeing that expression directed at him so consistently. Megumi preferred Yuuji smiling. Laughing. Leaning into him. Falling apart at his touch. That would come back eventually. He was sure of it.

Yuuji swallowed hard, shifting slightly against the restraints before glaring back up at him. “…What’s the ‘good news’?”

Megumi’s expression softened instantly. “We’re moving.”

Yuuji blinked. “…What?”

“I found us somewhere better,” Megumi explained. “A coastal city far from Tokyo. Quiet, and not too crowded.” As he spoke, his tone warmed noticeably. “There’s a house near the water,” he continued. “Big enough for both of us. It’s isolated, but still close enough to stores and things you’d need.” His eyes drifted slightly, already picturing it. “We’ll be able to start over there.”

Yuuji stared at him in disbelief.

Megumi kept going. “No more stress. No more people interfering. Just us.” A small smile tugged at his lips. “We’ll finally have the time to build a real life together.”

“You’re insane.” The words came out immediately.

Megumi’s smile faded slightly. “Yuuji—”

“No!” Yuuji snapped, his voice cracking from strain almost instantly. “You think changing locations suddenly fixes this?!” He pulled against the restraints again, frustration making the bed shake faintly. “You killed Junpei!”

Megumi’s jaw tightened.

“You kidnapped me!”

“I saved you—”

“You destroyed my life!”

The room fell silent after that.

Yuuji’s breathing turned ragged again, chest rising and falling hard as anger and panic tangled together. “It doesn’t matter where you take me,” Yuuji continued, quieter now but no less intense. “I’m never going to suddenly change my mind and fall in love with you.”

Megumi’s gaze drifted over Yuuji slowly. “You already did once.”

Yuuji froze.

Megumi leaned closer slightly. “You kissed me first,” he said softly.

Yuuji’s stomach twisted. “That wasn’t—”

“You wanted comfort,” Megumi interrupted. “You wanted someone who wouldn’t leave you.” His voice lowered further. “And I was there, I'm still here.”

“That was different! You lied to me! I don’t love you anymore!”

“No,” Megumi agreed calmly, “Not yet.” He reached up slowly and brushed a strand of hair away from Yuuji’s face. “But I’ve spent too long imagining a future with you,” he murmured. “I’m not giving up now that I finally have you.”

Yuuji jerked his head away from the touch.

Megumi sighed softly. “…You’ll like the ocean,” he continued. “You’re only so hesitant because you haven’t seen it yet,” he said calmly. “And since it’s so far away,” he continued smoothly, “I won’t have to keep you tied up like this anymore.”

That made Yuuji’s stomach churn. “Is that supposed to comfort me?” he whispered.

“It is.”

“Megumi, listen to yourself!” Yuuji pulled weakly against the restraints again, frustration bleeding into panic. “I don’t want this! I don’t want to leave Tokyo, I don’t want to go live in some isolated house with you, I don’t—” His voice cracked again from strain. “I just want to go home,” Yuuji finished weakly.

“No,” Megumi said softly.

“Please,” he tried again. “Megumi, just… let me go.”

Megumi didn’t answer.

Yuuji forced himself to keep talking before fear swallowed the words entirely. “I won’t report you!”

Megumi blinked once. Then let out a quiet laugh. Not mocking exactly, just… disbelieving. “Yuuji,” he murmured.

“I mean it!”

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“I’m serious!” Yuuji insisted desperately. “I won’t tell anyone anything, okay?! I just— I just want this to stop!”

Megumi smiled faintly. “If I let you go, you’d run. Far away from me and never look back.”

Yuuji fell silent. Megumi saw the answer in his face instantly.

“That’s the problem,” he said quietly. He stood from the bedside chair and moved closer again. “Don’t you get it, Yuuji?” His voice softened as he reached the bed. “I can’t lose you again.”

Yuuji felt his pulse spike as Megumi sat carefully beside him.

“You’re my everything,” Megumi whispered. His hand lifted slowly, brushing gently against Yuuji’s cheek. “Watching you belong to someone else for all those years…” Megumi continued, his gaze distant now, almost pained. “It nearly broke me.”

Yuuji’s stomach twisted.

“There were days I genuinely thought I was losing my mind,” Megumi admitted quietly. “Seeing him touch you. Kiss you. Live beside you like it was nothing.” His thumb brushed lightly beneath Yuuji’s eye. “If I lose you again…” Megumi’s voice lowered further, almost fragile now. “I won’t have a reason to live.” Megumi leaned closer, forehead nearly brushing Yuuji’s. “I need you,” he whispered. “And soon enough, you’ll need me too.”

Before Yuuji could react, Megumi’s other hand moved. Something small was shoved into Yuuji’s mouth. A pill.

Yuuji’s eyes widened immediately. “Mmph—!”

Megumi clamped a hand firmly over his mouth before he could spit it back out. Yuuji jerked violently against the restraints, panic exploding through him as he tried to turn away, tried to force the pill out but Megumi held him still.

“Shh,” he murmured softly, almost soothingly. “Don’t fight me.”

Yuuji shook his head frantically beneath his hand. His throat worked desperately. The bitter taste had already started dissolving. “No, no—” The sounds came out muffled and broken against Megumi’s palm.

Megumi kept his hand there patiently. Until he was sure enough had dissolved that spitting it out wouldn’t matter anymore. Only then did he pull away.

Yuuji coughed immediately, glaring at him in horror. “What— what did you—”

“Relax,” Megumi said gently.

Yuuji’s breathing quickened. “What did you give me?!”

Megumi brushed a hand through Yuuji’s hair carefully. “It’s just a sedative.”

Yuuji’s stomach dropped. “Megumi—”

“You’ve been exhausting yourself,” Megumi continued calmly. “Fighting constantly, barely sleeping properly…” His fingers stroked slowly through pink hair. “This will help.”

Yuuji’s pulse hammered violently now. “You can’t just drug me!”

“I can if it’s for your own good.”

Yuuji tried pulling against the restraints again, harder this time, panic fueling the movement. “I hate you,” he choked out. Suddenly the room tilted slightly. The medication was working too fast. Warmth spread sluggishly through his limbs.

Megumi guided him carefully back against the pillows as resistance started to falter. “That’s it,” he murmured quietly. “Just relax.”

Yuuji tried to keep his eyes open, tried to stay angry, but his body felt unbearably heavy now. His thoughts slipping apart around the edges. “M-Megumi…”

Megumi leaned down slightly, pressing a soft kiss against Yuuji’s forehead. “Everything’s going to be okay,” he whispered.

Yuuji’s eyes fluttered weakly as the sedative dragged him down. His breathing slowed first. Then the tension gradually drained from his body piece by piece, his limbs growing heavier against the mattress. 

Megumi sat beside him quietly, watching. He didn’t move immediately. Instead he brushed his fingers slowly through Yuuji’s hair, watching for any signs of resistance, any twitch that suggested he was still fighting to stay awake.

Yuuji’s breathing evened out fully. His body went slack.

Megumi smiled softly. “…Good.” Carefully, Megumi stood from the bed and crossed the room toward the duffel bag Toji had dropped off earlier. He unzipped one of the smaller compartments and pulled out a sealed medical packet. Inside sat a simple injector. 

The tracker itself was tiny enough that Yuuji would never notice it beneath his skin. Megumi returned to the bedside, sitting carefully near Yuuji’s hip. He gently rolled up the hem of Yuuji’s shirt, exposing part of his lower back. “…This is just in case,” he murmured quietly, more to himself than to the unconscious man beside him.

The injection was quick. A soft click, a faint twitch from Yuuji’s arm, then nothing. Megumi pressed lightly against the spot for a moment before smoothing the fabric back down into place.

Done.

Now even if Yuuji escaped, Megumi would always be able to find him again. The thought soothed something ugly in his chest. After that, the real work began.

He moved through the apartment efficiently, gathering the last of their belongings. Most of the important things had already been packed in advance over the last few days. Megumi had even gone back to Yuuji’s house to get some of his most valued items, just enough to make Yuuji comfortable. 

He folded the last of the clothes into the trunk carefully before pausing. The evening sky outside had already darkened into deep shades of blue. Time was running short and there was still one thing left. Megumi’s gaze drifted toward the closet.

Toward the hidden room beyond it. His shrine. For a moment, he just stood there. The small room behind the false panel glowed softly beneath dim lighting, every inch of the walls covered with photographs.

Yuuji laughing. Yuuji sleeping. Yuuji walking home from school. Yuuji buying groceries. Tiny stolen moments collected obsessively over years. There were notes pinned between them too. Promises, dates, fragments of thoughts Megumi had never been able to tell anyone else.

You smiled at me today.

One day I’ll make you mine.

You looked beautiful in the rain.

I’ll love you better than anyone else can.

Megumi stepped inside slowly. His chest tightened painfully. There was no way he could dismantle all of it tonight. Not safely. Not before Yuuji woke up again. And trying to drive all the way to Aozora with Yuuji fully lucid was a risk he didn’t want to take. Some things would have to stay behind.

The photos. Those he couldn’t leave. They were irreplaceable. Carefully, Megumi began removing them from the wall one by one. His fingers lingered over certain pictures longer than others.

A blurry image of middle school-aged Yuuji asleep on a train.

A photo taken secretly through café glass while Yuuji laughed with Junpei.

One from years ago where Yuuji had glanced directly toward the camera without realizing Megumi was there.

Megumi had written on the back of that one:

You almost saw me. Were you drawn to me without realizing it?

He stacked the photographs carefully into a box before carrying them out to the car and placing them gently in the trunk like something fragile.

He returned to the bedroom. Yuuji was still deeply asleep. Megumi approached the bed quietly before slipping one arm beneath Yuuji’s knees and another around his back. Yuuji stirred faintly as he was lifted. A weak sound escaped him, and his head tipped automatically against Megumi’s shoulder. Megumi’s chest ached at the contact. “…I’ve got you,” he whispered softly.

Yuuji didn’t respond.

Megumi carried him carefully through the apartment and down to the parking lot below. The night air was cooler now, the city quieter than usual. No one noticed them.

Megumi lowered Yuuji gently into the backseat, adjusting him carefully so he’d stay comfortable during the drive. He returned moments later with a pillow and blanket, tucking them around Yuuji with almost absurd tenderness considering the circumstances. He closed the car door softly after one final check, then he stood there for a moment beside the vehicle looking back toward the apartment building. Toward the life they were leaving behind. 

Tokyo had given him years of longing and frustration, but that part was truly over now.

Megumi slid into the driver’s seat and started the engine. The headlights cut through the dark street ahead, and without another word he drove off into the night.

—

Yuuji woke slowly. For a few seconds he didn’t move at all, his thoughts still trapped somewhere between sleep and consciousness. The mattress beneath him felt unfamiliar. The air smelled different too. Like salt. Faint, but unmistakable. His eyes opened gradually taking in each detail as they came.

A white ceiling.

Muted morning light filtering through thin curtains.

Silence.

No restraints.

Yuuji’s breath caught immediately. He jerked upright too fast and instantly regretted it. A dull ache pulsed through his body, lingering soreness settling deep into his muscles and lower back. He winced quietly, forcing himself to stay still until the dizziness passed.

Then his eyes darted toward his wrists. Free. His ankles too.

No ropes. No cuffs. Nothing.

Yuuji’s pulse quickened. Carefully, he pushed the blanket aside and moved toward the edge of the bed. The room around him came into focus bit by bit. Small, but comfortable. A dresser near the wall. A neatly folded pile of clothes resting on top. A bedside lamp. A soft gray rug beneath his feet. Nothing threatening.

Yuuji stood cautiously, every muscle tense as he waited for the sound of footsteps. Nothing.

The house remained quiet.

He swallowed hard, then moved. Each step was careful. He kept his breathing shallow as he approached the bedroom door and slowly eased it open. The hallway beyond was empty. Yuuji peeked around the corner carefully.

The house was…normal.

Furnished enough to feel lived in, but not extravagant. A small couch sat in the living room facing a television. A coffee table rested in front of it with a neatly stacked pair of magazines. A kettle sat on the kitchen counter beside a dish rack. Blinds covered every window. There was even a welcome mat by the front entrance.

It looked like somewhere a happy couple would live. Somewhere he’d gladly stay with Jun– 

It’s better not to think about that. 

His eyes darted around again, still no sign of Megumi. There was a staircase to his right. If Megumi was on the second floor… this might be his chance. Yuuji’s heartbeat slammed against his ribs. Before he could second guess himself, he bolted.

Pain shot through his legs immediately, but adrenaline drowned most of it out as he rushed across the living room straight toward the front door. His fingers wrapped around the handle. He yanked hard. Nothing. Yuuji tried again. Still nothing.

“No no no—” His hands shook as he looked closer. A small padlock mechanism had been installed near the frame. Key access only. Yuuji cursed under his breath, backing away from the door as his eyes darted wildly around the room.

Window. He needed a window—

“Going somewhere, sweetheart?”

The voice came from directly behind him.

Yuuji turned sharply and nearly stumbled backward in the process.

Megumi stood a few feet away near the staircase. Wearing a loose black shirt with the sleeves rolled slightly up his forearms.

Yuuji backed up instinctively until his shoulders hit the wall beside the door.

Megumi’s gaze moved over him carefully. “You’re awake earlier than I expected,” he said softly.

Yuuji’s breathing quickened. “How long were you standing there?”

Megumi tilted his head slightly. “Long enough.” Megumi stepped closer. “Relax,” he said. “I told you things would be different here.” His eyes flicked briefly toward the door behind Yuuji before returning to his face. “I figure I should explain things properly,” he said. “Since you’re clearly testing the exits already.”

Yuuji’s jaw tightened.

“Like I said before, you don’t need to worry about being tied to the bed anymore. Because this house is completely escape-proof.” Megumi gestured lightly toward the front entrance. “All exterior doors are protected by padlocks,” he explained. “Key access only.” Then toward the windows. “The first-floor windows don’t open at all.”

Yuuji’s eyes darted instinctively toward them.

“The second-floor ones do,” Megumi added calmly. “But the distance is high enough that jumping would probably injure you.” He paused briefly. “Nothing fatal,” he clarified. “Just enough to slow you down.”

Yuuji stared at him in disbelief.

“And before you think about it,” Megumi continued, “everything dangerous has already been dealt with.” A faint smile touched his lips. “Knives, tools, medication, anything you could use against me… or yourself, is locked away somewhere only I can access.” Megumi stepped closer again, caging Yuuji against the wall with presence alone. “You can stop looking for exits,” he murmured. “There aren’t any.”

Megumi watched Yuuji carefully for another moment before finally stepping back. “You’re free to do whatever you want,” Megumi said calmly, like he was discussing house rules with a roommate instead of explaining captivity. “Sleep, explore the house, watch TV, read… whatever helps you settle in.” Megumi gestured vaguely toward the living room. “I even brought some of your favorite things from Tokyo,” he added quietly. “Some clothes, a few books, your old hoodies, and your game console.” 

Megumi turned slightly, like he was about to head back upstairs, then paused. “Oh,” he said softly. “One more thing.”

Yuuji immediately tensed again.

“From now on we’re living under new identities. You’re Ryu Masahiro, and I’m Kaito Kenta.” Megumi spoke a rehearsed tale. “The two of us moved away from the city after a fire destroyed our apartment building,” he explained. “It was traumatic enough that you still have nightmares about it sometimes.” His gaze sharpened slightly. “Remember that story.” Megumi let out a quiet laugh then, small and almost affectionate. “Though,” he added lightly, “it’s not like you’ll be talking to many locals anyway. Not until you’ve proven you can behave yourself.”

Yuuji’s pulse spiked again. He couldn’t stand there anymore. He shoved past Megumi hard enough for their shoulders to collide and bolted for the stairs.

“Yuuji—”

But Yuuji wasn’t stopping. He rushed upstairs as fast as his aching body would allow. He nearly stumbled once halfway up but caught himself on the railing and kept going. He needed a door, a window, anything.

The second floor hallway came into view—a narrow stretch lined with several rooms. Yuuji rushed to the nearest one and twisted the handle violently. Locked. He moved to the next. 

Bathroom.

Next room.

Storage closet.

Next.

Another bedroom. Hope surged violently in his chest until he looked out the window. The drop below made his stomach lurch. Megumi hadn’t been exaggerating. Yuuji stumbled back from the window.

“Damn it—”

He rushed to the next room. Another window. Same drop. Same impossible angle. Yuuji’s breathing turned frantic as he moved from room to room searching desperately for something Megumi overlooked.

A loose lock. A reachable phone. A hidden spare key. There had to be something!

Yuuji stepped into the final room at the end of the hall and froze. The ocean stretched endlessly beyond the glass doors leading onto a small balcony. Waves crashed softly against distant cliffs below, sunlight reflecting off the water in blinding streaks. It was breathtaking. The kind of view people dreamed about escaping to.

That made it feel all the more suffocating.

Yuuji stepped toward the balcony slowly. The doors opened easily. Fresh sea air hit him immediately, cool wind brushing against his face. For one terrible second, his exhausted brain almost forgot. Almost let the scenery lull him into pretending this was something good.

A vacation with Jun—

His stomach dropped again. Yuuji staggered backward into the room. His knees gave out before he fully realized what was happening. He hit the floor hard, but the impact barely registered. His breathing shook violently now, hands clutching at his hair as thoughts spiraled too fast to follow properly.

This wasn’t going to end. Megumi wasn’t confused. Wasn’t having some emotional breakdown he’d eventually regret. He was going to keep this going forever. 

Yuuji’s chest tightened painfully. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like the walls were closing in around him. “…I’m going crazy,” he whispered hoarsely. The words sounded small against the sound of the distant waves.

His husband was dead. His best friend murdered him. Then kidnapped him. Then drove him across the country to play house under a fake name. And somewhere in the middle of all of it—

Yuuji had kissed him. Slept with him. Trusted him.

Yuuji curled slightly into himself on the floor, hands trembling against his face. The room blurred. Downstairs he could faintly hear movement. Megumi. Still calm as ever, acting like this was all the beginning of something beautiful.

—

Two months passed.

Waves crashed against the cliffs below the house day after day with the same steady rhythm, uncaring and constant. Morning sunlight filtered through the windows. Rainstorms rolled through occasionally, rattling softly against the glass before disappearing again.

Yuuji stopped fighting as much. Not because he accepted any of this or forgave Megumi, but because exhaustion could only sustain panic for so long before it hollowed it out into something numb.

Megumi noticed the difference immediately.

Yuuji still flinched sometimes when touched unexpectedly, still stared too long at the ocean some days, but he stopped screaming. Stopped trying to throw himself against locked doors. Stopped crying every night. Now he mostly just… existed.

The television played softly in the background, some forgettable romance movie flickering across the screen while evening rain tapped gently against the windows. Yuuji sat on the couch beside Megumi wearing one of the oversized sweaters Megumi had bought him after they moved. He looked smaller lately, thinner more specifically. His pink hair had grown messier too, falling into his eyes more often now that he rarely bothered styling it. 

Megumi rested one arm lazily around Yuuji’s waist while scrolling through his phone with the other hand. His fingers moved absently against Yuuji’s side beneath the sweater hem. Touching him like this had become second nature. It was what he deserved after all. 

Yuuji didn’t react to it, he just kept staring at the television without really watching it.

Megumi frowned slightly at the lack of response before glancing back down at his phone. Then his eyebrows lifted. “…Oh.” Megumi turned the phone slightly toward Yuuji. “Looks like they finally searched my apartment properly.”

That got the faintest flicker of attention. Yuuji’s eyes drifted slowly toward the screen.

A news article filled most of it. ‘Missing Persons' Investigation Expands After Disturbing Discoveries Made In Tokyo Apartment.’ Beneath the headline sat a blurred image of police officers carrying evidence boxes out of Megumi’s old apartment building.

Megumi scrolled further. “They found the shrine,” he said casually. A small smile tugged at his lips. “Or… what was left of it, anyway.” The article mentioned photographs, personal items, obsessive documentation and other behavior investigators described as a “potentially escalating fixation.”

Yuuji looked away again almost immediately.

Megumi kept reading and let his hand drift below the waistline of Yuuji’s pants. “Oh.” He hummed softly. “They found your old phone too. They’re officially treating me as a suspect now,” he continued. Megumi tilted the phone again. “Nanami’s the one who filed the report,” he added.

The article included a brief statement from Kento Nanami requesting continued public awareness and assistance locating Yuuji safely. Safely. Megumi’s expression darkened faintly at the wording. “He’s persistent,” he muttered. “What a pain.”

Yuuji remained silent.

Megumi looked over at him properly now. “…You miss him?”

No answer.

The TV continued playing softly in the background. Rain tapped against the windows. The silence between them had changed over the last two months. In the beginning it was loud, filled with fear and hatred and grief. Now it mostly felt empty. Like Yuuji had retreated somewhere deep inside himself where Megumi couldn’t quite reach. That bothered him more than anything.

Megumi shifted closer on the couch. “You’re not even curious?”

Yuuji’s expression remained distant. “…What’s the point?” he asked quietly. His voice sounded dull.

Megumi’s chest tightened strangely at the sound. “The point?”

“They won’t find us,” Yuuji murmured. “Isn’t that what you made sure of?”

Megumi stared at him then slowly smiled. “That’s right.”

“That’s what I thought,” Yuuji’s eyes flickered shut briefly. “So it doesn’t matter.”

Megumi brushed his fingers lightly against Yuuji’s jaw, turning his face slightly toward him. “You’ve been quieter lately,” he murmured. “I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not.” 

Yuuji looked at him finally, Megumi realized he preferred when Yuuji screamed. This expression—this hollow, distant look—frightened him far more. “…Yuuji?”

Yuuji’s gaze drifted back toward the television. “…I’m tired,” he whispered.

Megumi’s expression softened. “You should’ve said so sooner.” Carefully, gently, Megumi pulled Yuuji closer until his head rested against his shoulder. Megumi pressed a soft kiss against the top of his head and set his phone aside. “You know, it’s about time for summer festivals,” he said quietly. “Maybe the two of us could attend one together.”

“…A festival?” Yuuji repeated quietly after a long moment. His voice still sounded far away.

Megumi nodded slightly against the top of his head. “There’s supposed to be one next weekend,” he said. “Fireworks. Food stalls. Games.” A faint smile touched his lips. “You always liked those.”

He remembered. Summer nights in Tokyo crowded with people and lantern lights. Junpei laughing softly while trying to win prizes from rigged festival games. Sharing takoyaki beneath fireworks bursting across the sky. The memory hurt immediately.

Megumi noticed the shift in his breathing. “…We don’t have to go if it’ll upset you,” he added after a pause.

Yuuji stared blankly at the television. That wasn’t really the problem. “You’d really take me out in public?” Yuuji asked eventually.

Megumi hummed softly. “Of course.”

“Aren’t you worried someone will recognize us?”

“Not particularly.” Megumi sounded almost bored by the concern. “We’re far enough away that it’s unlikely. And you look different enough now. No one will know that Ryu Masahiro is actually Yuuji Itadori. And you won’t be able to tell them.”

Yuuji stiffened slightly. He supposed he did look different. His hair had grown longer. He’d lost weight. The exhaustion hollowing out his expression probably helped too.

Megumi’s thumb brushed lightly beneath Yuuji’s jaw. “And if anyone asks about you not talking,” he continued quietly, “I’ll tell them you’re just shy.”

Yuuji let out something faintly resembling a laugh. “Right.”

Megumi frowned slightly at the sound. “You don’t believe I’ll take you?”

“I don’t know what to believe about you anymore.” Yuuji murmured quietly. 

Megumi’s hand stilled briefly. “…You still think about him every day, don’t you?” It wasn’t really a question.

“…Yeah,” Yuuji admitted quietly.

Megumi looked down at him for a long moment. Jealousy flickered across his face so quickly Yuuji almost missed it.

Megumi leaned back slightly into the couch cushions with a quiet sigh. “I’ll make you happy again.” he muttered quietly. 

“You can’t,” Yuuji whispered.

Megumi’s expression tightened. “Because of him?”

“Because of you.”

Silence.

The rain outside grew heavier.

Megumi’s jaw flexed once before relaxing again. “…I’ll make you happy again Yuuji,” he said quietly. Megumi pressed another small kiss into Yuuji’s hair. “…I’ll buy you a yukata,” he murmured sleepily. “For the festival.”

Yuuji stared blankly ahead, and for a moment he found himself trying to imagine what color Junpei would have picked for him.

Chapter Text

The yukata was soft. That was the first thing Yuuji noticed as he stood in front of the bedroom mirror. Soft blue fabric draped over his frame, the color muted enough to look natural while still flattering him. Months ago he probably would have looked healthier in it. Now it hung slightly loose around his shoulders and waist, the weight he had lost over the past year impossible to completely hide.

Behind him, Megumi knelt to tie the obi. Yuuji stared at his reflection and tried not to think. Tried not to imagine a different pair of hands adjusting the fabric. A different summer evening. A different festival.

Junpei had wanted to attend more seasonal events together. He used to talk about filming the lanterns and fireworks, capturing little moments that would become memories later. Yuuji squeezed his eyes shut briefly. Not now. Thinking like that would only make the night harder.

"Too tight?" Megumi asked quietly.

Yuuji opened his eyes to find Megumi looking up at him expectantly. He shook his head. The obi wasn't what was uncomfortable.

Megumi smiled faintly. "Good." He stood and smoothed out a wrinkle near Yuuji's hip. For a moment he simply looked at him. Yuuji had grown familiar with that look over the past several months. When Megumi's gaze lingered. The way his expression softened whenever he thought Yuuji wasn't paying attention.

"Beautiful," Megumi murmured.

Yuuji looked away.

Megumi didn't seem bothered. Instead he reached into his pocket and produced a small strip of medical tape.

Yuuji's stomach sank immediately. Without argument he tilted his head slightly forward.

Megumi's expression brightened. "Thank you." The tape settled gently across Yuuji's mouth. After that came the mask. Megumi adjusted it carefully over the lower half of Yuuji's face. "There." He stepped back to admire his work. "It’s just a precaution, sweetheart."

Yuuji stared blankly at him.

Megumi smiled. "I can't exactly risk you telling someone the truth." His tone remained light. "But… stay on your best behavior and I might take it off during the festival."

Yuuji lowered his gaze, then nodded. The reaction seemed to satisfy Megumi. He leaned forward and pressed a small kiss against Yuuji's cheek.

"Oh." Megumi's hand settled briefly on his shoulder. "Make sure you remember," His voice softened. "You're Ryu here." The lie settled over him like another layer of clothing.

Yuuji nodded again.

"Good boy." 

The praise made something twist unpleasantly inside his chest. Megumi looked pleased regardless.

—

A short while later they arrived at the festival. The town wasn't particularly large, but tonight it felt alive. Strings of lanterns glowed overhead. Children ran between stalls carrying prizes. The scent of grilled food drifted through the evening air. Music echoed faintly from somewhere deeper in the crowd.

Megumi's hand found the small of Yuuji’s back as the two of them walked together through the crowd. A middle-aged woman running a food stall greeted them first.

"Kaito-kun!"

Megumi smiled charmingly, "Good evening."

The woman laughed. "You finally brought Ryu-san out with you?"

Megumi's hand tightened slightly against his back. "Of course! I couldn’t just let him miss out on all the fun."

"How thoughtful of you." The woman looked toward Yuuji and her expression softened immediately. "Poor thing."

Yuuji looked away.

Megumi sighed softly. The performance began. "He still doesn't like crowds much." The explanation came effortlessly. "It’ll take some time before he fully recovers from… the incident."

Understanding appeared instantly on the woman's face.

Yuuji lowered his eyes and Megumi squeezed his shoulder. “But, we both want him to be able to smile again.” Megumi said with a smile. The woman bought it completely, so did everyone else they came across.

A fisherman outside one of the game booths.

An elderly couple near the shrine path.

A teenager selling candied apples.

Whenever conversations began, they followed the same pattern. They greeted “Kaito”, they noticed “Ryu”, and they heard the story. Then came the sympathy–or worse, pity. 

Yuuji hated the pity most. The way their eyes softened. The way their voices lowered like he was broken. Like he needed protection. Like he should be grateful to stand beside the man who had ruined his life. And through all of it Megumi remained perfect. Polite. Friendly. Attentive. Kaito Kenta was everything Megumi Fushiguro had never been.

Still Yuuji kept the facade up. No point in acting out when Megumi was so close by, he’d only cover up any outbursts with a convenient lie. He needed a free moment, something to get Megumi to lower his guard, then he’d be able to run and… well he’d figure the rest out when the time came. 

—

The food stalls stretched in long rows beneath strings of glowing lanterns. The smell of grilled meat, fried batter, and sweet syrup drifted through the evening air. Around them people laughed, chatted, and carried paper trays piled high with festival food.

For a few minutes Megumi seemed content simply walking beside him, hand still firmly wrapped around Yuuji's wrist. Eventually he slowed near one of the larger food stalls. "Are you hungry?"

Yuuji glanced toward him.

Megumi smiled faintly, then leaned closer. "So far you've been behaving." His voice lowered. "Pick something you actually want."

Yuuji blinked.

"I'm taking the tape off." Megumi continued.

For a second Yuuji simply stared. Then his eyes drifted toward the various stalls. One instantly grabbed his attention. Takoyaki. Old memories surfaced suddenly. Junpei complaining that the filling was always too hot, yuuji swallowing one too quickly and burning his tongue every single time. His chest tightened.

He pointed toward the takoyaki stand as Megumi followed his gaze.

"Good choice," he said simply. 

A few minutes later they were carrying two trays away from the crowd.

Megumi led them toward a secluded bench tucked behind several food stalls where fewer people wandered through. Far enough away to feel private. Close enough to still hear the festival. The second they sat down Megumi carefully removed the tape from Yuuji's mouth.

The skin stung slightly in the aftermath.

"Better?" Megumi asked.

Yuuji rubbed his jaw. "...Yeah."

For a while they simply ate. The takoyaki was hot enough to steam in the cool evening air. Yuuji focused on eating slowly. Focused on anything except the reality of where he was.

Eventually Megumi pulled out his phone. The screen illuminated briefly as he checked the time. "Hm."

Yuuji glanced up. "What?"

"We've got a while before the fireworks start." Megumi slipped the phone back into his pocket. His gaze settled on Yuuji. "So," a small smile appeared. "We can do whatever you'd like until then."

Yuuji hesitated. Part of him wanted to say nothing. Part of him wanted to ask to leave. But another part—the part desperately searching for opportunity—needed Megumi distracted.

"...Maybe some festival games?"

Megumi's eyebrows lifted slightly. "A game?"

Yuuji nodded. 

"Sure." The answer came immediately. Anything Yuuji voluntarily suggested seemed to make Megumi happy lately.

Once they finished eating Megumi adjusted the face mask back into place. "There." His fingers lingered briefly against Yuuji's cheek. "Ready?"

Yuuji nodded.

The two returned to the crowd. Festival games lined one side of the grounds. Ring tosses. Goldfish scooping. Target games. Lottery stalls. Children crowded around them excitedly. Megumi's attention drifted from booth to booth until he spotted one near the center. A shooting gallery. His eyes lit up immediately.

"Want to see me win something?" Megumi asked.

Yuuji gave a small shrug.

Megumi laughed softly. "I'll take that as a yes."

For the first time all evening, Megumi let go of his hand. Only because he needed both hands free to pay. Megumi stepped up to the booth. The owner handed him the air rifle. The crowd around the game wasn't particularly large initially, but that changed quickly. Megumi raised the rifle. His expression sharpened.

Yuuji had seen that look before, usually when Megumi became fixated on something.

The first target fell. Then another. Then another. One after another. The shots came with frightening consistency. A few people nearby began stopping to watch. Whispers spread. The crowd slowly grew larger. Megumi barely seemed to notice anything happening around him. His attention remained entirely on the targets.

In his mind the painted targets weren't targets anymore, they were Junpei. Smiling. Existing. Standing between him and Yuuji again. The crack of another shot echoed. Direct hit.

A small crowd had gathered fully now. The booth owner looked increasingly nervous every time another target fell. By the end of the round only a single miss separated Megumi from perfection. The crowd erupted into impressed chatter. Megumi lowered the rifle. The booth owner presented him with one of the larger prizes. A plush tiger. Yuuji would certainly love it. Megumi smiled.

He turned around immediately. Already lifting the tiger toward where Yuuji should have been standing. "Here–" The words died in his throat.

Yuuji wasn't there.

Megumi blinked.

The smile vanished instantly. His eyes scanned the immediate area. Nothing. Maybe he'd stepped aside. Maybe someone blocked his view. Megumi moved around the edge of the crowd. The plush tiger still hanging loosely from one hand.

"Ryu?" His voice came out quieter than intended.

No answer.

The crowd suddenly felt enormous. Too many faces. Too many bodies. Megumi pushed through them quickly, scanning every direction for a sign of Yuuji.

A blue yukata.

A black face mask.

Pink hair.

But there was nothing.

Megumi’s pulse spiked. "Shit…" he mumbled as he circled the entire game stall once, still nothing. People stared as Megumi shoved past them. His breathing quickened. The crowd blurred. Every second felt wrong. The moment the initial shock wore off, Megumi knew exactly what had happened.

Yuuji had run. 

Not wandered off, or gotten lost in the crowd. He’d run. His stomach dropped. Then that fear immediately twisted into something hotter, something uglier. "No." The word escaped through clenched teeth.

Around him, the festival continued as normal. People laughed. Children darted between stalls. Fireworks preparations carried on in the distance. None of it mattered.

Megumi shoved through the crowd and nearly fumbled his phone while pulling it from his pocket. His fingers shook as he opened the tracking application. A blinking dot appeared. Relief hit first, followed by rage. The signal was moving.

Fast.

"Yuuji..." Megumi's jaw tightened. Without another thought he broke into a sprint.

The crowd protested as he pushed through them. Someone shouted. Someone else stumbled aside. Megumi ignored all of it. His eyes remained glued to the screen. The dot kept moving. 

How long had Yuuji been running? Megumi'd only looked away for a few minutes and still Yuuji had already cleared most of the festival grounds. He’d always been athletic, but this was ridiculous. Yuuji must have taken off the second he’d let his guard down.

Megumi turned a corner at full speed. The plush tiger bounced against his leg, still clutched in one hand. The absurdity of it nearly made him laugh. He'd won it for Yuuji. Spent the entire game imagining the look on his face after he received it, and the second he turned around Yuuji made a run for it. That ungrateful little wretch. 

The tracker showed the distance increasing again. Megumi accelerated. The festival lights had long since disappeared behind him, and soon he was running through darker streets. Where was Yuuji going? The question repeated itself over and over.

Was he trying to run to the police? Did he think he could make it to the train station and get out of Aozora and eventually back to Tokyo? Maybe he was planning to find a kind civilian to protect him. Or maybe he was just going to hide out somewhere random and abandoned until morning. 

Did Yuuji actually think he could escape? Did he think anyone would believe him? Did he think Megumi wouldn't find him? The anger building in Megumi's chest became harder and harder to control. 

He'd been patient, so, so patient.

He'd given Yuuji freedom inside the house, stopped using restraints, taken him out in public, trusted him, and this was how Yuuji repaid him. 

By running, and trying to leave him. The thought made his vision darken. "No." His breathing grew heavier. Megumi wasn't going to lose him. Not after everything. Not after sacrificing every other part of his life for their happiness together. 

Once he caught him… things would have to change. Clearly he had been too lenient. Too soft. Yuuji still thought escape was an option. Still had the nerve to disobey his wishes. That misunderstanding would need correcting with punishments.

The tracker suddenly slowed.

Megumi glanced down, then slowed himself. A large building stood at the end of the street. Four stories tall, dark and silent. Its windows reflected faint traces of moonlight. It didn't look open.

Megumi stared at it then looked back down at the phone. The signal was coming from there, Yuuji was inside. He had to be, there was no way he could have removed the tracker. Yuuji never even knew it existed. Megumi approached slowly. The front entrance was locked. The windows on the first floor were boarded in several places. No lights, no activity, yet the signal remained perfectly clear. There had to be a way in.

He rounded the back corner of the building and froze. A gated outdoor staircase clung to the side of the structure, and caught on the top of the rusted fence was a torn strip of blue fabric. The same color as Yuuji's yukata.

Megumi's breath caught. "...Found you." 

Relief surged through him for exactly half a second. Then he noticed where the staircase led. Straight up the side of the building. Toward the roof. A horrible realization began assembling itself piece by piece.

Yuuji's recent behavior. The hollow look in his eyes. The way he'd stopped fighting. Stopped hoping. The way he'd spoken about himself, about being tired.

The way he'd run tonight.

Not toward people, not toward help, not toward safety, but toward a tall building. 

"No." The word left his mouth immediately. His pulse exploded. "Yuuji!" Megumi threw himself at the gate. Metal rattled violently beneath the impact. He scrambled up it without thinking, nearly slipping in his haste before hauling himself over the top. The second he landed he was running. His lungs burned. His heartbeat hammered in his ears.

Megumi took the steps two at a time. Then three. His phone remained clenched tightly in one hand, the blinking tracker signal telling him exactly where Yuuji was. "Yuuji!" His voice cracked. "Yuuji, answer me!" Nothing. Only the sound of his own frantic footsteps. He was almost there. 

One more floor. 

One more flight. 

The roof access came into view. The distant sounds of the festival drifted faintly through the darkness below. And all the way across, near the edge, stood Yuuji. The blue yukata fluttered gently in the wind. For one terrible moment the sight almost looked peaceful. Yuuji stood facing outward toward the dark ocean beyond the town.

He didn't turn around. Didn't acknowledge Megumi's arrival at all.

"YUUJI!" Megumi staggered forward. Relief and terror collided so violently inside him that his knees nearly gave out. "Please." His voice came out smaller now. "Please step away from the edge."

Yuuji remained still.

Megumi took another cautious step. His entire body shook. "Yuuji… Please don't do this." 

Still nothing. The distance between them suddenly felt impossible. 

Megumi swallowed hard. "You can hate me." His voice cracked. "You can scream at me." Another step. "You can hit me all you want." Another. "But please..." His eyes burned. "Don't leave me."

For the first time Yuuji moved. Not much. Just enough to glance slightly over one shoulder. Moonlight caught his face and Megumi felt something inside him fracture.

There was no anger there. No hatred. No fear. Just exhaustion. A deep, endless exhaustion.

"Yuuji..." Megumi's voice trembled. "I love you." Another step. "You know I love you." Closer. "I need you. You’re… you’re all I have." Closer. "Please." His breathing hitched. "Please stay with me."

The wind blew between them.

Yuuji looked at him. And then, without a word, stepped over the ledge.

Megumi screamed. The sound tore itself from his throat. "YUUJI!"

He ran. Everything blurred. The rooftop vanished. The world vanished. There was only Yuuji. Only the space between them. Only the impossible hope that he could still reach him. His hand stretched forward desperately. Fingers brushing empty air.

Too far. Too late.

The space where Yuuji had been was suddenly empty.

Megumi stumbled to the edge. His knees slammed into concrete. For a second he couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. His mind refused to process it. Refused to accept it.

Yuuji wasn't—

He couldn't—

Megumi's entire body trembled. He didn't want to look. As long as he didn't look it wasn’t real. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t–

His chest hurt. Everything hurt. Megumi forced himself forward and looked. The sight below hit him like a physical blow. His stomach lurched violently. A strangled sound escaped his throat. Megumi thought he might be sick right there over the edge.

"...Yuuji..." The name came out as barely more than a whisper. His hands gripped the ledge hard enough to scrape his skin, but he barely felt it. For the first time since he was a child, Megumi Fushiguro felt completely and utterly helpless.

Yuuji… His Yuuji... His darling… his everything… he was… he was…

Megumi couldn't make the thought finish itself. The words refused to come together. The reality refused to settle. A loud ringing filled his ears. Everything blurred together into meaningless shapes and colors. His thoughts fractured and suddenly his mind lurched backward through time.

Back to the beginning. The first day they’d met. He could still remember it perfectly.

His father had dragged him along to meet someone, some relative of a friend. Megumi hadn't wanted to go, he'd spent the entire drive sulking in the backseat, then Yuuji had appeared.

Bright. Loud. Smiling.

Megumi remembered the soda most clearly. A paper cup tipping over. Cold liquid splashing across his shirt. Yuuji's horrified expression.

"Oh no!"

Megumi had thought the reaction was ridiculous. It was just a shirt. But Yuuji had spent the rest of the gathering apologizing. Every ten minutes—

"Sorry again."

Every conversation—

"Are you sure you're not mad?"

Every attempt to move on—

"Do you want my shirt instead?"

Megumi had barely spoken. Yet somehow Yuuji never stopped trying. By the time the adults finished talking, Yuuji had already decided they were friends. Megumi remembered staring out the car window on the ride home feeling strange, like something important had shifted without permission.

The ringing in his ears continued.

Another memory surfaced. 

Middle school, a sleepover with just the two of them. Yuuji had fallen asleep almost immediately. Megumi remembered lying awake beside him. Listening to the slow rise and fall of his breathing. Unable to sleep, Unable to look away. His heart had pounded so hard he'd thought something was wrong with him.

Every time Yuuji shifted closer, the feeling got worse. Warmer. Stronger. Scarier. Megumi had spent half the night wondering if he wanted to move away, or closer. Whether he wanted distance, or to hold on and never let go.

The confusion terrified him. But not as much as the answer.

Eventually he realized he didn't want Yuuji farther away. He wanted him closer. Always closer. So close it would seem like their bodies had fused together permanently. He wanted Yuuji all for himself. That realization had changed everything.

The memory dissolved and another appeared.

The creation of the shrine. 

The first photograph. The first note. Megumi remembered how guilty he'd felt initially. How wrong it had seemed. How embarrassing. Yet every time he looked at Yuuji's picture, the ache inside his chest eased slightly. Every time he wrote down his feelings, the burning obsession became easier to understand. Safer to manage.

The shrine became a place where all those overwhelming emotions could go. A place where he could admit things he'd never say aloud. Where he could love Yuuji openly. Even if only the walls could hear it. He remembered pinning photographs up one by one. Remembered tracing his fingers across smiling faces. Remembered writing promises.

‘Just wait a little longer, one day he'll understand.’

‘One day he'll choose me.’

‘One day we'll be together.’

He'd spent years believing that.

The memories wouldn't stop.

He remembered the day Yuuji and Junpei announced they were dating. Everyone had gathered in the living room of Yuuji’s house. Yuuji had been smiling. That bright, impossible smile Megumi had loved since childhood. Junpei had looked embarrassed, covering his face while Yuuji excitedly explained how long they'd been keeping it secret.

The room had erupted into congratulations. Megumi remembered standing perfectly still through all of it trying not to snap. He remembered smiling when someone looked his way, saying all the right things.

"Congratulations."

"I'm happy for you."

"You two make sense together."

Lies. Every single word. Inside, everything had shattered. He remembered going home afterward and locking himself in his room, staring at the wall for hours. Just thinking about how empty everything suddenly felt. The only thing that stopped him from giving up entirely had been a single thought.

‘Yuuji is still here.’

As long as Yuuji existed somewhere in the world, Megumi had convinced himself there was still hope.

Another memory surfaced. The couch. Yuuji's trembling hands. The sudden warmth of lips against his own. In that moment he'd genuinely believed the universe had finally corrected itself. Believed every year of waiting had finally paid off. Believed they had reached the beginning of their happy ending.

Even after Yuuji explained. Even after learning why the kiss happened. Some stubborn part of Megumi had continued believing.

The rooftop wind howled softly around him. Fireworks finally began launching in the distance, their bright colors illuminating the sky. Megumi's eyes remained fixed downward. Toward the place where everything had ended. The ringing finally began fading. His breathing hitched violently.

The future he'd spent so long chasing no longer existed. There was no tomorrow where Yuuji finally smiled at him. No tomorrow where Yuuji learned to love him. No tomorrow where they grew old together by the ocean.

Megumi lowered his head into trembling hands. A broken sound escaped him. Half laugh, half sob. All those years, all that devotion, and in the end, the thing Yuuji had wanted most was simply to be free of him.

Megumi slowly rose to his feet. His movements felt distant. The fireworks continued bursting overhead.

Red.

Gold.

Blue.

Beautiful.

His thoughts remained trapped in the past. The memories blurred together until they became impossible to separate. A lifetime reduced to fragments. 

Megumi took a step forward, then another. Somewhere below, reality waited but Megumi no longer felt connected to it. There was only silence, and Yuuji. Always Yuuji. Even now. Especially now.

Megumi never consciously registered moving closer to the edge. Never fully formed the thought of letting go. The memories simply kept coming. A final warm embrace between his last heartbeats. He and Yuuji would be joined together once more in blood and bone, while the fireworks bloomed across the night sky above.