Work Text:
Megumi hadn’t noticed it at first.
He was sprawled on the couch in the common room, nose buried in the latest novel from an author he liked, the words pulling him in just enough to dull the outside world. Yuuji and Nobara’s constant back-and-forth filtered through the air like white noise, familiar and easy to tune out. Their bickering had become so routine that it barely registered anymore—just another hum in the background, like the creak of the floorboards or the faint rattle of the heater.
Though he’d never admit it out loud, Megumi had grown used to reading here instead of in his dorm. The common room was obnoxious and loud, but the noise carried a strange kind of comfort. It was easier, sometimes, to exist in the midst of it all—something about the chaos made the space feel fuller, warmer. It was the kind of noise that reminded him, quietly and insistently, that he wasn’t alone.
It wasn’t until he heard the sound of something shattering on the ground that he finally tore his gaze from the page.
Yuujii’s voice rang out in a high-pitched whine, “Ah, man, I broke it!”
Megumi blinked, looking up just in time to see him crouching beside a pile of tinsel, trying to gather up the broken pieces of what was once a glass ornament. Nobara let out a sharp sigh, crouching beside him and swatting his hand away.
“Are you seriously this clumsy, Itadori?” she grumbled.
The faint twinkle of lights in the corner caught his eye, and for the first time, he actually looked around the room. It didn’t take long for the realization to settle like a heavy weight in his stomach.
Christmas.
The garish tree in the corner, half-decorated and missing a few branches, was plastered with cheap ornaments. Tinsel was scattered everywhere—some still dangling from the walls, others crumpled on the floor. Yuujii and Nobara were decorating for Christmas.
Megumi couldn’t swallow the rising bitterness that lodged in his throat. He hadn’t realized how close it was, how easily the holiday had crept up on him. He had almost forgotten it was even December. But now, it hit him all at once, sharp and sickening.
Christmas.
A year had passed, and he still couldn’t think about it without tasting bile on his tongue.
Yuuji started humming as he picked up the mess, something cheery and obnoxiously holiday-like. Megumi could hear the smile in his voice as he turned to Nobara, asking about where they should put the next strand of tinsel.
Megumi watched them move, his stomach churning with nausea and something else - something hotter and uglier, coiled tightly in his chest. He had never particularly cared about the holidays before, and it was no secret that he had never seen the appeal in decorating for them. Even as a kid, he had always found it pointless. It had been easier, too, when they never had the money or resources to decorate. But somehow, seeing it now, he couldn't stomach the sight.
The fact that Yuuji seemed perfectly fine made it even worse.
A year had passed.
Megumi's fingers tightened around the edges of his book, his jaw clenching. A year had passed, and yet he couldn’t shake the ache, the dull, throbbing emptiness. And, somehow, it was even worse to know that the world seemed to have moved on, unbothered.
His eyes lingered on Yuuji. His lips were still curved into a smile, his hands busy sorting through the decorations. He was still humming, though Megumi couldn't quite make out the tune.
And, for a moment, he hated him.
He hated the way his hands moved with such ease, the way his voice lifted with every note. He hated how easily the smile seemed to rest on his face, as if it belonged there. It was unfair. Unjust.
The bitterness burned his throat.
A logical part of him knew it was unreasonable. He couldn't blame him for moving on, not really. After everything Yuuji had done, he deserved a little happiness, even if Megumi couldn't seem to find his own. But the part of him that was still wounded and hurting couldn’t bring himself to care. It was hard not to begrudge the fact that the world hadn’t stopped for him. That, despite everything, life seemed to have moved on regardless.
His heart clenched.
A year.
That was it, then.
One whole year had passed.
He should have been used to the pain by now, but instead, he felt raw and hollow, aching from the inside out.
His eyes dropped to the page, but the words swam together, meaningless. He could feel his hands trembling, and he quickly closed the book.
He needed to get out of there.
Megumi shoved the book under his arm and pushed himself off the couch. Yuuji's gaze immediately snapped to him, a bright smile tugging at his lips.
"Fushiguro! We were talking about how we want to make Christmas like they have in those foreign movies. You should help!"
The words were like a slap to the face, and Megumi bit the inside of his cheek to stop himself from saying something he'd regret. He turned away, shaking his head, "No. I'm going back to my room."
He could practically feel the disappointment radiating off Yuuji as he walked away.
Megumi shut his door a little harder than necessary.
His hands were still shaking.
The anger was starting to fade, leaving nothing but a sick feeling in its wake. Megumi tossed the book onto his bed and sank into his chair, letting his head fall back against the edge.
A year.
Megumi took a deep breath, squeezing his eyes shut.
A year ago, he was a pawn, a prisoner inside his own body, his hands and cursed technique used to kill the person who had meant the most to him.
A year ago, he lost the only family he'd ever known.
Megumi's hands curled into fists.
A year ago, Megumi felt the remains of his soul being torn to shreds.
He took another deep breath, counting down the seconds as he exhaled.
And another.
And another.
Slowly, his fingers started to uncurl, and the sick feeling in his stomach started to fade.
By the time he opened his eyes, his hands were still, his heartbeat steady.
It wasn't fair, the way time worked.
Sometimes, it felt as though a thousand years had passed since that day, as if a part of him had died and would never come back. And, sometimes, it felt like only a day had gone by.
A year had passed, but the world had moved on without him.
The thought made him feel numb.
There was a knock at the door, and he glanced up.
"Fushiguro? It's me."
Yuuji's voice was muffled behind the door, and Megumi hesitated.
He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to do anything but stay there and wallow in his own misery, alone. But something about the way his voice sounded made the words die on his tongue.
"What?" Megumi managed, trying his best to keep his voice neutral.
"Can I come in?"
Megumi sighed, his shoulders sinking. It would be easier to say no, but the truth was, he didn't have the energy. He could hear the concern in Yuuji's voice, the gentle note of worry, and Megumi couldn't bring himself to be the cause of it.
He didn't answer, but the door creaked open anyway, and Yuuji stepped into the room.
He closed the door behind him, leaning back against the frame. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, the silence stretching out between them. Yuuji was the first to break it, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Are you okay?"
Megumi blinked, caught off guard.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"I don't know." Yuuji shrugged, glancing away. "You just left in a hurry. I thought maybe something was wrong."
Megumi's gut twisted.
Damn Yuuji and his stupid, annoyingly observant tendencies.
"Nothing's wrong." Megumi forced himself to meet his gaze, doing his best to ignore the uneasiness settling in his chest. "I just got annoyed. Not a fan of Christmas songs."
It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the whole truth, either. Yuuji seemed to buy it, though, because he let out a quiet laugh, his eyes brightening.
"Oh. Well, I guess my voice isn't that good, huh?"
Megumi rolled his eyes, grateful for the shift in conversation. "No. You suck."
"Hey, c'mon!" Yuuji protested, and there was a faint tinge of pink on his cheeks. "Don't be mean."
"I'm not." Megumi said.
Yuuji's eyes narrowed, but he didn't seem angry. "Whatever. I'm gonna go finish up with Kugisaki. You're sure you don't wanna join?"
Megumi shook his head.
Yuuji sighed, but his voice was light when he spoke again. "Alright. I'll see you later, then."
He gave Megumi one last, lingering glance before leaving the room.
As soon as the door closed, the room suddenly felt too quiet, too empty.
Megumi swallowed.
One year.
The thought made his heart hurt.
It was strange, he mused, how much a single year could change.
Last Christmas, Megumi was ready to die, ready for the pain to finally be over. But, somehow, this boy, this stupid, annoying, infuriating boy, had made him want to keep living.
And that was the scariest thing of all.
Because wanting to live meant there was something worth living for, and the only thing Megumi could think of was Yuuji.
It had taken him a long time to understand, to realize what it meant when he couldn't breathe whenever Yuuji laughed. It had taken him even longer to accept it, and he still wasn't sure how to deal with it, not really. But, he was content, in a strange kind of way, to simply let things be.
To simply let them exist.
So, this sudden rush of resentment was a new feeling. A painful, bitter feeling that made him want to crawl into a hole and never come out.
Because, truth be told, the past year hadn't been all bad.
There had been plenty of moments worth living for.
Moments where Yuuji's eyes would linger on him just a second too long, moments where the brush of their fingers would send a thrill running up his spine. Moments when Megumi would look up, catching Yuuji staring, his face flushing red, and Megumi would wonder if it meant anything.
And then there were the moments when the three of them would collapse onto the couch together, exhausted after a long mission, and Yuuji would lean his head against Megumi's shoulder, and Nobara would complain that he was taking up too much space. There would be laughter and bickering and, somehow, Megumi would feel at peace.
Like the world wasn't quite so lonely.
But, in the end, those moments had been few and far between, and Megumi still spent more time drowning in the past than enjoying the present.
It was hard not to be consumed by it all, not to feel the guilt and regret eating him up inside.
A year.
One year had passed, and he could still feel the phantom pain, the feeling of emptiness inside his chest, the ghost of the presence of another soul inside him.
There were nights when he'd wake up drenched in sweat, the lingering remnants of a dream, a nightmare, slipping through his fingers like sand. The echoes of his own voice, twisted and distorted, would haunt his every step, and the memories would replay in his head on loop, a film he could never stop.
He wondered, sometimes, if Yuuji still dreamed about it.
He wondered if Yuuji's nights were haunted by the same ghost.
But, even if he did, it didn't seem to slow him down. His smiles came just as easily, and his laughs sounded just as genuine. Megumi couldn't help but envy him.
He couldn't blame Nobara for being unaffected - as bad as it sounds, her coma saved her from having to witness the worst of it. It had taken her a little time to adjust to the fact that she had lost an eye, but she had handled it with far more grace than Megumi could have imagined. It hadn't been easy, but she had moved on.
Maki had lost her sister and she had single-handedly slaughtered her entire clan, and yet, her smiles when Nobara was around had become genuine again.
Everyone else had managed to move on, and yet Megumi still felt like he was trapped.
He was stuck in the past, chained to it.
And, he couldn't even bring himself to look at Christmas decorations without being reminded of the past.
-
Megumi hoped that he would just get used to the sight of tinsel and lights and ornaments, and eventually, it wouldn't bother him. But, it seemed like Yuuji had made it his personal mission to bring the Christmas spirit to the whole dorm, and there was no escaping it.
The kitchen constantly smelled like gingerbread, the air thick and sweet, and Yuuji was constantly making batches of hot chocolate and cookies, offering them to everyone he saw. Though Megumi never asked for any, a plate of cookies would always appear on his desk, whenever he would return to his room.
Everywhere he looked, there was something new and obnoxiously Christmassy, and no matter how much he tried to ignore it, the decorations were always there, lurking in the corner of his eye.
Their movie nights seemed to have shifted from the summer classics Megumi had grown accustomed to, to cheesy, holiday-themed movies. He tried to sit through them, but the cliches and happy endings just made him feel worse, and he found himself making excuses to leave, or skipping out on movie night altogether.
"Fushiguro! Do you want some hot chocolate?"
Megumi bit the inside of his cheek, glancing up.
Yuuji was standing by the stove, stirring a large pot. Steam billowed from the surface, the smell of chocolate filling the air.
"Sure."
He knew it was pointless to say no. Even if he did, he would probably find a mug full of hot chocolate on his desk later, anyway.
Yuuji's smile widened, and he immediately began pouring the mixture into two mugs. "You'll have to wait a few minutes, though. I have to add the secret ingredient."
"Secret ingredient?"
"Yep!" Yuuji chirped. "Took me a couple of tries to get it right, but I think it's good now."
"And what exactly is this secret ingredient?" Megumi asked.
"That's for me to know and for you to find out." Yuuji shot him a grin, setting a mug down on the counter.
Megumi rolled his eyes, pushing himself to his feet and moving to the counter.
"So," Yuuji started, stirring a spoon through the chocolate, "I've been thinking."
Megumi raised an eyebrow. "Dangerous."
Yuuji glared at him. "Shut up. I'm being serious."
"Sorry."
"Anyway," Yuuji continued, and for a second, his expression shifted, turning more hesitant. "I wanted to ask if you had any plans for Christmas."
Megumi frowned, shaking his head. "No. Why?"
"Well," Yuuji started, a faint flush coloring his cheeks, "I was wondering if maybe you'd want to hang out."
Megumi stared at him, unsure how to respond.
Why would Yuuji want to spend Christmas with him?
"You don't have to," Yuuji rushed to add, his voice soft. "It's just... well, I was thinking, you had a shitty year and everything, and..."
"Oh," Megumi said, blinking.
So it was pity, then.
He swallowed, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment. "That's not necessary."
"Fushiguro." Yuuji met his gaze, his eyes serious. "I'm asking you because I want to. Because I think it'll be fun."
"Fun." Megumi repeated the word, letting the taste of it settle on his tongue. It was a foreign concept, at least in his mind. The idea of having fun on Christmas was unthinkable.
"Yeah," Yuuji insisted. "Fun."
It suddenly felt like Yuuji was mocking him, and Megumi's mouth pressed into a thin line. "I think I'll pass."
Yuuji blinked, a frown tugging at his lips. "Really?"
Megumi nodded, crossing his arms.
"Oh." Yuuji's eyes dropped, and his shoulders sank. "Okay."
Megumi ignored the sick feeling in his stomach, the ache in his chest.
Yuuji slid the mug towards him. "Here's your hot chocolate, then."
"Thanks."
Megumi took the cup, their fingers brushing for the briefest moment. He didn't know if it was intentional, or if his brain was just desperate for something that wasn't real. But, the contact sent a jolt through his system, and he quickly pulled his hand away.
"It's probably too hot," Yuuji said.
"Probably," Megumi echoed, not meeting his eyes.
"I'll leave you alone, then," Yuuji mumbled.
Megumi couldn't bring himself to say anything else.
Yuuji left without another word, and Megumi slumped back into his seat, staring at the wall.
When he finally lifted the mug, it was still warm.
He took a small sip, the heat of the drink seeping through him.
Yuuji was right. The secret ingredient was perfect.
With the taste of ginger on his tongue, his eyes began to sting.
-
The following week became a series of bad days, each one worse than the last.
He didn't know why, but every passing day made the weight in his chest grow heavier, the memories more vivid. Every smile, every laugh, everything seemed to set him off, and he would be overcome with the urge to lash out, to scream, to break something.
His skin itched with restlessness, his heart pounding so hard, it felt like his ribs would crack. The tension was a constant pressure, a suffocating grip, and Megumi didn't know how to make it go away.
When he found a clumsily wrapped present sitting on his bed, a small card with his name scribbled in Yuuji's messy handwriting, Megumi couldn't decide whether to feel touched or angry.
The gift was thoughtful and simple - a book, of course. Something about the behaviour of dogs. He could practically picture Yuuji wandering through a bookstore, flipping through page after page, before finally deciding on this one. It was exactly the kind of thing Megumi would love.
He ran his thumb over the spine, the words catching in his throat.
It was the kind of gift only someone who cared would buy, and the thought made his chest ache.
A year.
Megumi took a deep breath, and took the book to his desk, tucking it away in one of the drawers without even bothering to open it.
-
By the time Christmas Eve arrived, Megumi was on edge, his nerves frayed.
Every noise made his muscles tense, every word from Nobara or Yuuji's mouth felt like a punch to the gut. He spent most of his time hiding in his room, his heart thumping painfully hard in his chest.
He could hear the rest of the students in the common area, chatting and laughing, the smell of food wafting down the hallway. He vaguely remembered Yuuji mentioning something about a Christmas dinner he would be cooking, but he hadn't really paid attention.
Now, though, the thought made his stomach twist.
He was hungry, and tired, and so, so lonely.
He had avoided everyone all day, and now, the walls of his room seemed to be closing in on him.
There was a knock at the door, and Megumi glanced up.
"Who is it?"
"It's me."
Yuuji's muffled response was familiar, and the sound of his voice made Megumi's heart leap into his throat.
"I made some dinner, if you're hungry."
Megumi's stomach rumbled, but he ignored it.
"I'm not hungry," he lied, forcing his voice to remain calm.
"Oh," Yuuji said. "Alright."
Silence stretched out between them, and Megumi stared at the door, wondering if he would leave.
He didn't.
"Can I come in?"
"If you want."
Megumi heard the sound of the door creaking open, and he turned, his eyes landing on Yuuji.
He was wearing some stupid ugly Christmas sweater, the fabric green and red, the edges frayed and worn.
It made Megumi's hands itch with the urge to rip it off him. To tear the fabric and burn it, along with every other reminder of the holiday. To wipe that stupid, hopeful look off his face and leave nothing but ash in its place.
Yuuji stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him.
"Fushiguro," he said.
His voice was gentle, soft. Megumi wanted to scream.
"What do you want?"
Yuuji winced, the hurt visible on his face.
"I just wanted to see if you were okay," he said, his voice quiet. "You've been... avoiding us. I was worried."
Megumi let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head.
"I'm fine."
Yuuji frowned. "You don't seem fine."
"Yeah, well, maybe I'm just tired." Megumi snapped. "Maybe I just want to be alone."
Yuuji hesitated, his gaze searching. "Do you?"
"Yes."
Yuuji didn't look convinced, and Megumi clenched his fists.
"Why won't you just leave me alone? Go celebrate Christmas with everyone else. Go, pretend you're all happy, and everything's great, and no one's dead, and–"
Megumi froze, his voice dying in his throat.
Damn it.
It was too late. The words were out, hanging heavy between them, and Yuuji's expression fell, a flicker of sadness passing across his features.
"Is that what this is about?" He asked. "Are you... mad at me?"
"I'm not mad," Megumi muttered.
"Then why are you acting like this?" Yuuji asked.
Megumi gritted his teeth.
"It's been a year," he spat.
"I know."
"And you're acting like it never happened. How the fuck are you doing that?"
Yuuji didn't answer.
"How dare you fucking celebrate, and enjoy yourself, and not think about it? How dare you pretend everything is fine, and act like a year ago wasn't the worst day of your life, too?" Megumi's voice was trembling, his breathing shallow. "Did you forget about them? About Gojo-sensei? How about Choso, Itadori? Your brother, who sacrificed himself for you?"
"Don't."
Yuuji's voice was hoarse, the single word sharp.
"Don't say his name."
"Why not?" Megumi's mouth twisted into a sneer. "Does it make you sad, knowing it's the anniversary of his death? Or do you feel like throwing a fucking party instead?"
He knew that he was being cruel, that his words were cutting. He could see the hurt flashing across Yuuji's face, the way his eyes widened, and Megumi couldn't bring himself to feel sorry.
"Stop," Yuuji whispered. "Just... stop."
"No." Megumi glared at him. "You're the one who came in here, demanding answers. Well, here they are. I'm not okay, Itadori. I'm not fucking fine."
Yuuji blinked, his face pale.
"You think I don't know that?"
"What?"
"I'm not an idiot," Yuuji said, his voice low. "Of course I know it's been a year. Of course I think about it. I think about Gojo-sensei, and my brother, and everything that happened, and it fucking hurts. And, of course I fucking noticed you haven't been doing well. You think I don't see the way you stare into space, or the fact that you've been avoiding us like the plague? Do you really think I haven't noticed that something's wrong?"
Megumi flinched.
Yuuji shook his head.
"Do you think I've moved on? That I've forgotten about it?" His eyes narrowed. "Because, if that's the case, then you're an idiot, too."
"Well, you certainly look like you've moved on," Megumi hissed.
"Well maybe if you had come out of your room, you would see that I haven't," Yuuji snapped. "This," he gestured around the room, "is for you, too. For everyone. I've been trying to make this horrible year a little more bearable, trying to find a way to get everyone smiling, even if it's just for a moment. I'm sorry I couldn't fix everything, Fushiguro, but I've been trying.
A horrible sense of guilt washed over Megumi.
"And, it you hate the decorations, fine," Yuuji continued, his voice shaky. "Hate the lights, hate the trees, hate the cookies. I don't care. But, don't tell me I'm moving on when I haven't, and don't assume that I have forgotten, because I could never. I'm sorry that my way of coping isn't the same as yours. I'm sorry if me trying to make this year just a little more bearable is causing you more pain. I'm sorry, Fushiguro. I'm really, really fucking sorry."
The sheer impact of Yuuji's words knocked the air out of Megumi's lungs, and the room suddenly felt too hot, his skin crawling.
"Itadori," he choked out.
Yuuji took a shaky breath.
"I'm sorry."
He turned and fled from the room, slamming the door shut behind him.
"Wait," Megumi said. "Wait!"
He scrambled after him, throwing the door open, but the hallway was empty.
He was already gone.
"Fuck."
Megumi sunk to the ground, burying his head in his hands.
The sob that left his lips was almost inhuman, a sound filled with pure anguish.
The weight of his words settled on him like a rock, and he was drowning, drowning in the guilt and regret and the realization that he had just hurt the person who cared about him most.
He couldn't breathe, and the tears kept coming, spilling over his cheeks, hot and heavy. He had never hated himself more, had never wanted to disappear more.
He was such an idiot.
Such a fucking idiot.
He curled into himself, the sobs wracking his body.
I'm sorry, he wanted to say.
I'm so sorry.
He didn't know how long he stayed there, curled up in a ball on the floor. His entire body felt numb, the tears having finally stopped. He didn't move, didn't think, didn't do anything but lie there, feeling completely hollowed out.
When he finally pushed himself to his feet, he reached for the drawer, pulling out the book Yuuji had given him.
He flipped it open, watching as a note drifted out, landing on the ground.
He picked it up, smoothing it out.
It was written in Yuuji's familiar handwriting.
Happy birthday, Fushiguro!
You never mentioned when it was, so I had to do a bit of snooping. When I realized, I figured you probably wouldn't want anything, or to be reminded, and so I didn't bring it up. I'm sorry if this is a bad time.
Anyway, I found this book. It's about dogs.
I hope you like it.
- Yuuji
Megumi stared at the words, his heart stuttering.
His birthday?
The book dropped to the floor, and the noise echoed through the empty room.
How could he have forgotten?
The date had completely slipped his mind, and it wasn't until now, seeing the words scribbled down, that it had even occurred to him.
Yuuji left the book on his bed on the 22nd, which meant he had known.
Megumi pressed his hand to his mouth, muffling the sob that rose in his throat.
His birthday.
How could he have forgotten?
He stumbled forward, reaching for the door.
"Fushiguro."
Nobara was standing there, her eyes wide.
"I'm sorry, I was just about to knock," she started, "I saw Itadori leave, and-"
Her words trailed off, and her eyes landed on his face.
"God, have you been crying?"
Megumi didn't have the energy to answer.
"Fushiguro." Her expression was serious, and she took a step towards him. "What's wrong?"
"I fucked up," Megumi whispered.
"What did you do?"
Megumi shook his head.
"I hurt him. I- I hurt him."
He couldn't speak, his voice cracking.
Nobara's face fell.
"Fushiguro, what did you do?"
"I yelled at him," he choked out. "I told him that he didn't care about anyone. That he had forgotten. I-I- God, Kugisaki, what the fuck did I do?"
Megumi felt his body crumple, and Nobara immediately pulled him into a hug, her grip tight.
"Shit," she muttered. "Oh, Fushiguro."
"I don't know what to do," he said, his voice muffled by her shoulder. "I didn't mean to say it. I didn't. I was just so mad, and I couldn't control myself, and..."
"Fushiguro, calm down."
Nobara pulled away, her expression fierce.
"Go talk to him. Apologize. Fix it."
"What if he doesn't forgive me?" Megumi asked, the thought making his stomach clench.
"He will."
"How do you know?"
"Because Itadori loves you, dumbass," Nobara said, her tone exasperated.
Megumi's brain short-circuited.
"What?"
Nobara rolled her eyes. "For god's sake, Fushiguro. I hate you for making me get all sappy, but we all love you. We're your family. It's what we do. But Itadori, he cares about you more than anyone. He would do anything for you, and if last year wasn't proof of that, then I don't know what is. You can't possibly think that he would hold something like this against you. He won't. So, go fix it."
Megumi stared at her, and she shoved him in the direction Yuuji's room.
"Now, get the hell out of here."
-
Megumi knocked on Yuuji's door, his heart pounding.
"Itadori?"
There was no response.
"Itadori, I'm sorry. Please, can I talk to you?"
Silence.
"Please, Itadori. Just let me in."
Still nothing.
Megumi gritted his teeth, knocking harder.
"Itadori, please. I'm sorry. Can't we just talk about it?"
Silence.
He tried the doorknob, and the door swung open.
Yuuji was sitting on the bed, his knees pulled to his chest.
"Itadori?"
"Are you just here to yell at me again?" Yuuji mumbled.
Megumi winced, taking a step towards him.
"No. I'm here to apologize."
Yuuji glanced up, his eyes red.
"Oh."
Megumi shifted, his hands trembling.
"I'm so sorry, Itadori," he said, his voice breaking. "I didn't mean any of it. You didn't deserve to be yelled at. I just- I'm a fucking mess right now, and I took it out on you, and that was wrong. And I'm sorry. So, so sorry."
Yuuji's expression softened, and Megumi sank down next to him on the bed.
"You were right," he admitted. "I wasn't thinking about anyone else. I'm sorry. I've just been so angry and upset, and I didn't realize that- I should have been there for you, not the other way around."
Yuuji was quiet.
"And, the book. I- thank you. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. About the date, I mean. I don't really like celebrating."
Yuuji blinked.
"It's okay," he said.
"It's not," Megumi insisted. "You went out of your way to buy me a gift, and I treated you like shit."
Yuuji gave a small smile, the gesture barely there.
"Don't worry about it," he said.
He stood, turning to face Megumi.
"Look, it's Christmas Eve," he said, his expression somber. "You can stay, or you can leave, or you can go hide in your room, or do whatever else. Just- please, don't feel like you have to do this alone. I know I probably didn't phrase it right, when I asked if you wanted to spend Christmas with me. It was selfish, and I'm sorry."
"Selfish?" Megumi repeated, his voice quiet.
Yuuji stared at the ground, his face flushed.
"Yeah. Fushiguro, you didn't forget what Christmas means in Japan, did you?"
Megumi's throat went dry.
Christmas Eve.
In Japan, it's a romantic day, for couples.
"Itadori," he said.
Yuuji laughed, but there was no humour in the sound.
"I'm an idiot, right? Asking you out on Christmas Eve. I guess I just... I wanted to make new memories, you know? Something happy to replace the bad ones. Stupid, right?"
The implication behind Yuuji's words made his breath catch in his throat. So, when he had asked if Megumi would like to spend Christmas with him, he wasn't asking out of pity. He was asking-
"Not stupid," Megumi managed.
"Yeah, well," Yuuji muttered. "I get it. That's not what you wanted. And, I'm sorry. Really. Forget about it."
"No," Megumi blurted out.
Yuuji blinked.
"What?"
"No," Megumi repeated. "Don't- don't forget about it."
He didn't know how to say what he was feeling, the emotions still too big, too overwhelming. He could only imagine the kind of turmoil Yuuji had gone through, his confession, the idea that his feelings might not be reciprocated. And, yet, despite everything, Yuuji had still put his feelings aside, and cared for him.
Yuuji had cared, and loved, and sacrificed.
And all Megumi had done was push him away.
"Itadori," he said, his voice cracking, "I don't want you to forget about it."
Yuuji frowned.
"Fushiguro," he began.
"Let me finish," Megumi interrupted.
"Okay."
"I'm not good at this," he said, the words feeling clumsy. "Talking, feelings. I've never really had a family, and I- I didn't understand what you were asking. I'm sorry. I was so angry, and in so much pain, that I couldn't see that- that maybe, I could find happiness too. If I just... let myself."
He took a deep breath.
"But, I do now. And, if the offer still stands, then- yes. I'd love to spend Christmas with you."
Yuuji's eyes widened, his mouth parting slightly.
"Wait, what?"
Megumi swallowed, his hands shaking.
"I want to spend Christmas with you, Yuuji. As more than friends."
The silence stretched out between them, and the fear was a horrible, suffocating thing, the possibility that he was wrong, that Yuuji had changed his mind–
"Really?" Yuuji breathed.
Megumi nodded.
"Yes."
"You- you like me?"
Megumi chuckled. "Like you? I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you... Y-Yuuji."
The words slipped out, and Yuuji's name tasted like sugar on his tongue, sweet and familiar.
Yuuji inhaled sharply, his eyes wide.
"Say that again," he demanded.
Megumi smirked. "What, my confession, or your name?"
"Both," Yuuji said.
"Well, Yuuji, I'm pretty sure I'm in love with you. So, will you go out with me?"
Yuuji lunged forward, wrapping his arms around him, the action sudden and unexpected. Megumi fell back, landing on the bed with a grunt, Yuuji on top of him.
"Is that a yes?" He wheezed, trying to breathe.
Yuuji nodded, his face buried in the crook of Megumi's neck.
"Yes," he said. "God, yes."
Megumi couldn't stop the smile from spreading across his face, and he wrapped his arms around Yuuji, pulling him closer.
"Good."
The position was slightly uncomfortable, but Megumi didn't mind.
Yuuji lifted his head, a grin on his face.
"Does this mean you'll go see the lights with me?"
"Yes, I'll go see the stupid lights," Megumi mumbled. "Let's go now, actually."
Yuuji sat up. "Right now?"
"Sure, why not."
"Okay."
Yuuji's excitement was contagious, and Megumi found himself smiling again, the expression not feeling as forced this time.
"I'll go grab my coat."
-
The night air was crisp, their breaths misting in front of them as they walked side by side down the street. The world was covered in white, the snow falling softly around them.
Megumi felt the cold bite at his cheeks, and he pulled his jacket tighter, burying his nose into the scarf wrapped around his neck. He wanted to stuff his hands into his pockets, but before he could, Yuuji grabbed his hand, entwining their fingers together.
A wave of heat washed over Megumi, the gesture surprising him.
"Is this okay?" Yuuji asked, his voice uncertain.
Megumi looked up at him, the snow sticking to his hair and eyelashes, his face slightly flushed.
"Yes," he said, the word warm.
He squeezed Yuuji's hand, and the answering smile he received was like a burst of sunlight.
They continued walking, Yuuji pointing out every decoration along the way. They were far from downtown, where most of the light displays were set up, but Yuuji didn't seem to mind, content to enjoy the ones along the way.
As they reached a park, the path in front of them was illuminated, the trees decorated with tiny lights. They were the same type that hung up around their house, the white ones that Megumi hated.
But, now, the lights weren't the ugly, cheap things that had seemed to be mocking him. They were beautiful, soft and gentle, the light dancing off the snow. They looked like stars, the kind he had gazed at when he was younger, imagining a different life for himself.
A better life.
Megumi was so caught up in his own thoughts, he didn't notice Yuuji stop. He ran straight into him, the two of them nearly toppling over.
"Shit, sorry," Megumi muttered.
"It's fine," Yuuji chuckled. "But, look."
He pointed upwards, and Megumi's gaze followed.
A mistletoe was hanging above their heads.
"Have you watched any western Christmas movies?" Yuuji asked, his voice quiet.
Megumi's mouth went dry, the implications of the question suddenly clear.
"I- I have," he managed.
Yuuji's cheeks turned pink.
"So, then, you know what happens if we're standing under a mistletoe."
"I do," Megumi said, leaning closer.
He could feel Yuuji's breath fanning over his face, the distance between them so small that he could count each of Yuuji's eyelashes, see the way the snowflakes clung to his hair, could almost taste his lips–
"I might not be any good at this," Yuuji whispered, his voice shaky, "but, can I–"
Megumi pressed their lips together, cutting him off.
He was not sure if it's because Yuuji was nervous, or because neither of them had kissed anyone before, or a combination of both, but the kiss was slightly awkward, a little messy. He chuckled against Yuuji's lips, his hands reaching up to cup his face, tilting his head just so.
Yuuji laughed too, his arms snaking around Megumi's waist, pulling him close.
This time, when their lips met, it was a perfect fit.
Megumi felt something bloom inside his chest, warm and bright, the feeling spreading throughout his entire body. His fingers threaded through Yuuji's hair, their lips moving against each other, and his knees nearly buckled at the sensation.
The winter cold had been biting at his skin, and now, standing there, the snow falling around them, it was the best kind of warmth, the kind that seeped into his bones, the kind that felt like home.
When they pulled apart, Yuuji's face was flushed, and he was panting slightly.
"Merry Christmas, Megumi," he murmured.
Megumi leaned forward, his lips brushing against Yuuji's cheek, his voice quiet.
"Merry Christmas, Yuuji."
And maybe Megumi wasn't quite ready to move on yet.
Maybe Christmas didn't hold the same meaning for him, would never feel the same, would never fill the void left behind.
But, as Yuuji pressed their lips together again, their smiles mingling, his heart thudding wildly in his chest, he couldn't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this year would be better.
Because, this year, he wasn't alone.