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Megumi wakes to the blaring alarm on his phone.
He wants to chuck it at the nearby wall in the hope it will shatter. But oh, the mortifying ordeal of having to buy a new phone. So instead, he lets his dead-tired mind fester with increasingly violent thoughts about demolishing his phone before eventually managing to flop out an arm underneath his covers to clumsily silence the device.
Silence, blissful silence.
Sluggishly, he lifts his head to read the time – 8:07am. He groans and not for the first time, he asks himself why he had helped out Gojo the day before. Not only had been the task needlessly complex, Megumi could’ve pulled his hair out from the stress, but dragged on for so, so long, he ended up in bed late and on top of that, couldn’t fall asleep right away. If he remembers correctly, he’s pretty sure he didn’t get anywhere near five hours of sleep.
Blearily, he stares at his ceiling. Gojo needs them for a mission today. Perhaps he could pretend he’s sick – no, that wouldn’t do him any good, since his teacher slash legal guardian would insist on playing nurse for him. And Gojo’s bedside manner is nothing short of atrocious. How Megumi and his sister survived the annual flu seasons is still a miracle to him.
Childish and petulant rage boils within him and he calculates how much of his dignity will he lose if he throws a fit right now. He comes to an approximate number and decides it’s not worth it. Instead, he finally moves to sit up in his bed, sliding his legs out into the chilled morning atmosphere. He sits there for a moment and exhales.
This is going to be a horrid, no good, disastrous, terrible, and very, very, very bad day.
He’s still in his pajamas as he trudges out of his room. The window-lined hallway is bright with the morning sun and if there is any way to fight that disgusting ball of fire and heat, he’d do it. By spirits, will he do it. But first, he wants to get his hands on some coffee – black as his heart, bitter as his soul, and pumped up with so much caffeine it could kill a lesser man (or in this case, Inumaki-senpai, who doesn’t do well with coffee). With slow, slow steps, he meanders down the hallway, eyes already falling half-shut. His head feels heavy and full like it’s stuffed with cotton balls hiding a center made out of lead. Horrifying how comfortable the wooden floor looks like right now – Megumi would love to just crouch down and curl up, dignity be damned.
The only thing that’s stopping him is the appearance of potential witnesses, but even then he’s already this close to desperation to ignore them completely. However, he does stop in his unsteady gait to slow-blink at Yuuji and Nobara.
“Look who finally woke up,” Nobara teases him immediately, giving him a cheeky grin with her pearly whites, which she carefully maintains with a ridiculously strict regime with the reasoning that she never knows “when Maki-senpai will finally take the opportunity to kiss me!”.
“Good morning, Fushiguro!” Yuuji greets him with his usual cheer, his boyish smile so bright and earnest that it invokes the desire to pat his head and feed him a treat. He and Nobara look annoyingly chipper and put-together this early in the morning, they’re even already wearing their uniform and everything. Megumi wants to deck them. Who in their right mind has this much energy in the morning, it’s not even 9am yet. He hates it here.
“Whoa, Fushiguro, you aren’t looking too good, man,” Yuuji says, brows knotting in concern as he leans closer to him. “Did you not sleep well? Those bags under your eyes could rival Kugisaki’s!”
Next to him, Nobara scoffs. “Yeah, right. Don’t you remember? This guy had to help out late yesterday,” she explains and Yuuji’s face lights up with realization.
“Ooh, okay. Damn, that’s rough!” He laughs then. Megumi feels like he’s dead on his feet and the boy who unfortunately frequents his dreams, which all should come with a pre-screened age rating at this point, is laughing at him. He should say something, maybe threaten to burn all of Yuuji’s mangas or shave his head bald when he’s sleeping. Maybe even just reach forward and tug at the joyfully bunched-up cheeks until the other boy does his little whiny dance of “ow, ow, ow, Fushiguro, that hurts!”.
He doesn’t do any of these things. Instead, he watches how Yuuji starts talking again – well, he’s guessing he’s talking because his mouth is moving and so is Nobara’s. But Megumi doesn’t really hear anything like his tired brain just decided to filter everything out and fill it with calm static and some tune, that sounds suspiciously like the theme music of the Wii that Yuuji tends to hum when watching the microwave re-heat his food.
Yuuji’s mouth is still moving, flapping up and down as he talks to Megumi, pretty brown eyes shining with mirth before he cocks one of his eyebrows, grin morphing into a soft frown. He has a handsome face, with a nice jawline and that adorable layer of baby fat still lingering on his cheeks and a smile so warm, it feels like Megumi’s basking in the sun whenever it’s directed at him. Yuuji’s still talking, soft-looking lips forming letters and words and Megumi remembers the one time the boy pestered Nobara that something about her smelled really nice and fruity, so she whipped out the source, which was a flavored lipgloss that she applied to Yuuji also. Oh, to be that lipgloss.
Yuuji’s still talking.
Megumi barely registers the hand that’s coming up to Yuuji’s face is, in fact, his own, until his tired fingers grab the boy’s chin in a weirdly firm grip. Yuuji jolts, mouth coming to a standstill in the form of a surprised ‘o’. Megumi’s fingers squish into his cheeks as big fawn eyes blink at him in both confusion and curiosity.
“Uh, Fushiguro?” The words are clear now, crisp like ringing bells, they almost echo in Megumi’s head. He’s still talking. “Fushiguro, what–”
Megumi tilts Yuuji’s chin up, gently, and leans down – closer and closer and Yuuji just watches him with increasingly pink cheeks until Megumi slots his lips against his. Yuuji’s mouth is as soft as he imagined, easing under his own in a gentle glide that Megumi can probably attribute to Nobara heckling him into using proper lip balm. His half-lidded eyes watch how Yuuji goes from pink to red, warm eyes wide before his lids flutter almost delicately. Then, Megumi leans back, detaching from the other with a soft little pop! sound, not straying too far away so the tips of their noses still brush against each other.
“…you talk too much,” he tells him dully. “It’s too early.”
And with that, he let’s go and shuffles past them – Yuuji frozen like a flushed statue, Nobara gaping at him like a fish out of water.
(He doesn’t hear Yuuji’s nervous babbling and stuttering as his mind obviously has to reboot completely from scratch. He doesn’t hear Nobara’s thunderous screech of “HOW DARE YOU BESMIRCH OUR BEST FRIEND RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME, YOU HOOLIGAN!”.)
The coffee is as terrible as he desired it. The bitterness delivers an ear-ringing slap across his face and the hideous amount of caffeine pulsates through his system so violently, he swears his heart just set out for a good few seconds. He sighs as his brain finally gives in and begrudgingly wakes up, clearing his muddled and sleepy mind.
This also means, his previous stunt hits him with all the weight of an oncoming freight train, a crashing plane on fire, a stray meteorite, and a truck, which also reverses on him. He nearly drops his mug.
“Oh no.”
Nobara is still seething when Gojo finally arrives.
“Oho? What’s got my cute student so riled up? Someone messing with you?” he asks the girl cheerfully until he sees Yuuji. “Why are you hiding your face, Yuuji-kun?”
There’s unintelligible mumbling from him and Nobara gnashes her teeth. “Sensei, you won’t believe what that punk Fushiguro did!”
“Eh? Megumi?” Gojo hums as he lifts his finger up to his chin thoughtfully. “Does it have anything to do with him lying face down on the kitchen floor?”
The embarrassed silence between the boys during the mission is almost hysterical. Megumi still doesn't know whether to scream or cry or laugh almost manically, but then he feels a warm hand sliding alongside his own and thinks, that he can die happy now as he holds pinkies with Yuuji.