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Itadori had never shared his bed before. It was an unknown extra weight on his mattress, the other mass pulling him in akin to a black hole weighing heavy on the quantum field. Where he would be pulled into, he didn’t know, though he didn’t care much when he was already nose-to-nose with the boy of his affection—he was convinced he’d already died and gone to heaven.
Fushiguro’s eyes were wider than usual, despite it being far too late in the night to have your eyes open that wide. Twin emeralds sparkled at Itadori even in the shadows they shared; long, dark eyelashes fluttering innocently as if they weren’t close enough to share the same breath. He’s as pretty as a girl when he’s like this, Itadori offhandedly thought, nudging his head forwards to poke at Megumi’s nose with his own. He’s as pretty just as Fushiguro always is, he corrected, stifling a laugh as Megumi scrunched his nose at the sudden contact.
The butterflies in Itadori’s tummy could be considered pterodactyls at this point, his gut doing flips as he contemplated breaching the few centimeters between him and Fushiguro. It seemed like the boy across from him wasn’t necessarily opposed to the idea, but it didn’t help the discomfort in his stomach. Fushiguro was one of his best friends, and he didn’t want to fuck it all up here, not when he was finally sharing his bed for the first time.
So Fushiguro tilted his head up ever so slightly and whispered into Itadori’s mouth, “You seem like you’re overthinking.”
It caught Itadori off guard—weren’t they technically kissing right now?—and his brain was short-circuiting at the faint brushing of lips against his own. He pinched his thigh and croaked out, “how can you tell?”
Fushiguro laughed at this, bringing an instant smile to Itadori’s own face. He tried to not feel disappointed when their faces moved slightly apart in the act; Fushiguro was laughing and that was all that mattered.
“Your eyebrows are creased in the middle. Up here,” he murmured, shifting his head to press a feather-light kiss just above the bridge of Itadori’s nose. It sent a pleasant warmth through the younger boy’s chest, coaxing a scratchy giggle that sounded through his whole upper body. Fushiguro seemed satisfied at this, moving back down to slot his face right back in front of Itadori, eyelashes now nearly brushing against the height of Itadori’s cheek.
“I think I wanna kiss you, Fushiguro.” The confession spilled out before Itadori could think twice, voice shaky and anxiety already forming into beads of sweat on his palms. The opposing boy smiled small and Itadori could undoubtedly make out the crinkling of fondness at the edges of those eyes, deep green more full of emotion than Itadori felt capable of handling.
“You can call me by my first name, y’know,” Fushiguro finally responded, expectantly. Itadori felt positively sick, attempting a reassuring smile, yet feeling his face pull into an uncool half-grimace, half-grin. And still, Fushiguro looked at Itadori like he’d hung the stars shining in those green, green eyes.
To him, Itadori had perfected every curve and crater while creating the moon, eager to brazenly show off his handicraft with the world (his world, laying across from him in bed). That look calmed Itadori more than anything else in the world, a gaze clearly intended for him and him only. Itadori selfishly thought that he might be the luckiest boy in the world to be the recipient of such praising looks.
He passed that invisible wall between him and Megumi, two pairs of lips pressing lightly against each other, afraid to scare the other away. Their noses rubbed against each other, a clear sign of inexperience that neither one sought to remedy; not when warmth spread through Itadori like a wave lazily washing onto shore, slowly engulfing anything it touched with a salty aftertaste. Megumi was good at this, like really good—not that Itadori had much to go off of in the first place.
Itadori wondered if he was Megumi’s first kiss. He wondered how long Megumi had been wanting this, too. As they became more comfortable with their newfound manner of intimacy, Itadori pressed further into the other boy, bringing one hand up from under the covers to hold Megumi’s face in his calloused hands. Megumi leaned into the soft touch, corners of his lips faintly twitching in contentment as Itadori began stroking the skin of Megumi’s cheek with the pad of his thumb.
With his eyes squeezed tightly shut, he couldn’t observe Megumi’s expression to gauge whether he was doing a good job; all he was working with was the little noises Megumi was making and the feeling of Megumi’s face beneath his hand. Every time they put space between them, be it for air or for a moment of readjusting their faces, Megumi would let out a little disapproving mumble before returning to his intention of mapping out Itadori’s lips with his own. It felt so out of character for the older boy, but it was so adorable that Itadori couldn’t possibly poke fun at it.
Megumi was getting tired, ever present in the sloppy, careless kisses he was now pressing to the corners of Itadori’s mouth, and Itadori felt wrong to hold the boy from his precious sleep. How long had they been doing this? Maybe minutes or even hours… Itadori was sure he could spend a million years getting drunk off this euphoric feeling, molding himself into the place Megumi had hollowed out for him in his heart.
So when Itadori pulled away for the last time that night, instinctively smiling when Megumi gave his little groan of disappointment, he didn’t feel like he’d regret anything if he were to die tomorrow. He kissed the boy he liked—the first boy he ever liked—and that boy kissed him back. He touched that boy’s skin without the fear of him recoiling away, with him instead nuzzling closer into the contact.
“Megumi,” he whispered. He got a chance to say that boy’s first name and watched as fire red blush dusted his sharp features like powdered sugar on the most perfect pastry he’d ever seen.
“Yuuji,” Megumi whispered back, like they were sharing a secret. Itadori was unsure if it ever was a secret, to be head over heels for Megumi Fushiguro, to watch him from afar and want this boy the same way he would want a girl.
He was glad it was Megumi. It’s always been Megumi, he thought, letting himself be held for the first time in a long time. The quantum mass that was Megumi’s heart tugged on his naïve consciousness (he’d be a fool to pull away) and set him right next to all things black holes could possibly love (everything and nothing and Itadori Yuuji).
He could get used to sharing a bed.