Chapter Text
“Itadori, you know I‘m gay, right?”
Yuuji looks up from where he’s buttering his toast in their shared kitchen. Fushiguro stares back at him expectantly, one hand shoved into his sweatpant’s pockets, the other gripping the kitchen counter for dear life. His expression might seem blank to the untrained eye, but Yuuji can tell from the way Fushiguro’s eyebrows dipped ever so slightly that his friend was nervous.
“Uh, yeah?” Yuuji hums and passes Fushiguro the butter knife. “You don’t really care about gender, right?”
Fushiguro nods in approval, robotically accepting the knife and stabbing it back into their communal tub of butter. Yuuji’s honestly not sure what sparked Fushiguro’s question– it was a far cry from their earlier discussion about some film festival Yuuji wanted to attend at the end of summer. But whatever the reason, it must be important. Fushiguro’s fingers are twitching absently, like he’s aching for a cigarette, even though he’d gone cold turkey a few weeks after they first met. Another nervous tell.
Yuuji’s known about Fushiguro’s sexuality for a while now. He’d found out about three months into their friendship, back when Yuuji was still all bright and wide-eyed about college life. Fushiguro had never really tried to hide his orientation, but he wasn’t exactly forthcoming about his personal life either, especially since he and Yuuji were still getting to know each other.
It slipped out during a casual conversation at the library, something Yuuji might’ve missed if he wasn’t intently paying attention to one of Megumi’s rants about discrepancies in translated fiction. Their discussion had shifted from gen-ed reading requirements to their own personal tastes in literature (or, in Yuuji’s case, his lack thereof). He doesn’t even remember why Fushiguro brought it up in the first place – maybe to make a sarcastic joke, or maybe it was related to the subject of the novel he was explaining – but he mentioned a guy he used to see for a little bit. Not a girl. A guy.
Fushiguro plowed ahead in his diatribe, probably because he didn’t think it was a big deal, probably because he’s known what he’s all about since middle school, but Yuuji’s mind snagged on it.
“Wait, you’re into dudes?” He blurted out. Yuuji regretted it too – Fushiguro abruptly cut off his rant, the excited gleam in his eyes dimming as he stared at Yuuji. He didn’t look mad, just a little confused.
“Yeah, I am,” He responded. The words were casual, but his tone was clipped and measured. Expectant of… something.
Yuuji swallowed. “So you’re like… gay?”
“I guess I‘m more pansexual, but labels don’t really matter to me,” Fushiguro shrugged. Again, there seemed to be something tense lurking just under his calm exterior. As if he were drawing back in on himself, leaving behind a cynical, guarded version in his wake. “Guys or girls – it’s all the same to me. What matters more is a person’s character. But yeah. To answer your question, I am queer,”
“Oh,” was all Yuuji could intelligently respond with. “I didn’t realize you …” Anxiety spiked in his gut as Fushiguro stared at him, arms crossed. Yuuji wasn’t sure what was wrong with him, but his brain felt like it was filled with radio static. He couldn’t think of anything smart or kind to say in return to Fushiguro’s confession, so he just stood there in the library aisle, numbly clutching onto the copy of Finnegan’s Wake he was about to take down from the shelves. For a moment, Yuuji felt like he was on a cliff's edge, teetering in the wind, moments from free fall into unseen depths. He gets the sudden urge to pull himself back from the abyss.
Fushiguro’s fingers dig into the meat of his forearms. His gaze has turned downright icy. “If that’s a problem–”
“No!” Yuuji blurts out in a panic. “You’re gay- er, pansexual. That’s cool,” He nods. “But I‘m straight. FYI. Just so you know,” Nailed it.
Instead of looking reassured, Fushiguro’s expression twisted into something complicated. “I already knew that, Itadori,” He practically spat out, before hoisting his stack of books in his arms and muttering some excuse about needing to be somewhere as he stormed out of the English Literature section. Yuuji was left standing alone, watching Fushiguro’s back grow smaller as he exited through the library’s sliding glass doors.
He cursed and raked a hand through his hair. The strange feeling at the pit of his stomach was gone, replaced with a sudden burst of worry. Why didn’t he just react like a normal person? Kugisaki had declared that she was a lesbian to him just last week, and he responded totally fine! She wasn’t normally impressed with whatever came out of his mouth, but she seemed oddly touched at Yuuji’s reassurances that it didn’t change anything about their budding friendship. Nothing weird happened then! Yuuji wasn’t homophobic or anything! Was he? Oh god, did Fushiguro think he was homophobic?
Maybe he did. Yuuji couldn’t blame him – who responds to someone coming out by saying you’re straight? Yuuji had only known Fushiguro for a little while, but he cared for him. A lot. He never wanted to do something that would make him uncomfortable or feel unwelcome. He had to fix things before Fushiguro dug his feet in and never spoke to Yuuji again.
Yuuji wasn’t always the best with words, so he turned to his other strengths instead. He squared his shoulders and spent the whole weekend making gingerbread cookies. Brittle and not too sweet, just the way Fushiguro liked them. He iced them in every color of the rainbow, like a bunch of miniature edible pride flags.
He invited Fushiguro and Kugisaki over the day after the library incident to try them out. Kugisaki immediately pounded back five cookies and declared that Yuuji would be catering at her future wedding. Fushiguro was a bit more hesitant, and Yuuji watched him gingerly pick up a cookie to inspect.
“I know it’s cheesy, but I wanted to do something for you. To apologize.” Yuuji rubbed at the back of his neck. “I‘m sorry for the weird response, and if I ever made you feel like you couldn’t be yourself around me. You’re one of my best friends, and nothing will ever change that. I’m an ally, I swear,”
Fushiguro turned the cookie over in his hands, silent for a moment in a way that made Yuuji anxious all over again. But when he bit into it with an abnormally sharp canine, Yuuji knew all was forgiven.
“Thank you for this, Itadori,” Fushiguro told him. “If anything, I‘m sorry for how I reacted at the library. It was a little over dramatic. I just- you-” He swallowed down his bite of gingerbread and frowned for a moment. Yuuji almost moved to grab him a glass of water, until Fushiguro spoke again.“You are a good ally,” he rasped. “And an even better friend. I‘m glad I met you.”
Fushiguro smiled at him. A small smile, barely noticeable, but for some reason, Yuuji felt like he was swaying in the wind once more.
That had been over a year ago. Megumi still rarely talked about his romance life (Kugisaki liked to joke he didn’t have one), but even if he did, Yuuji wouldn’t have an issue with it at all. Absolutely nothing could change how much he cared for Megumi. He knew he’d like him from the moment they’d first met.
Yuuji had never really clicked with another person as well as he did with Fushiguro. He’s scarily smart and perceptive, level-headed but with a surprising capacity for violence. Fushiguro had such a fascinating worldview, always considering and analyzing things Yuuji never spent too much time dwelling on. He could listen to Fushiguro talk about anything, absolutely anything, for hours on end. Yuuji feels at ease when they're together. With Fushiguro, Yuuji never has to put on an act; he can just be himself, and it would be enough.
Sometimes, Yuuji thinks about how much he enjoys Fushiguro’s company, and finds himself getting weirdly happy. Sometimes he can’t focus when they’re together because his stomach starts to feel all fluttery when he looks at Fushiguro. But that’s probably par for the course– Yuuji’s had casual friends and acquaintances before, but never a relationship as close as his and Fushiguro’s. Maybe this is how friendship is meant to feel.
“Any reason for the sexuality reminder?” Yuuji half-jokes as he reaches into their kitchen shelf for a jar of peanut butter. Again, they don’t usually talk about stuff like this. Yuuji wracks his brain for any reason Fushiguro might’ve brought it up. Was someone giving Fushiguro a hard time because he was queer? God, he hopes not. But that’s something Fushiguro could probably handle on his own, though Yuuji would one-hundred percent step in if asked.
Or, more likely– did Fushiguro start dating someone? A guy? Or a… non-girl? Yuuji’s not too sure about the terminology. But if Fushiguro is actually seeing someone, that’d be great! Yuuji is fine with it. He is totally, absolutely fine-
“I need you to be my boyfriend,”
Yuuji walks straight into the open cabinet door.
Pain shoots up his skull. His plate of toast drops to the ground as he brings his hands up to clutch at his aching head. Yuuji can hear Fushiguro sigh exasperatedly at him, but despite the pain and embarrassment, there’s only one thing his brain can focus on.
Fushiguro steps into his space and ghosts his hands over his forehead to check where Yuuji banged it against the hardwood.
“Idiot,” He clucks his tongue. “You need to be more aware of your surroundings.”
Fushiguro sweeps some of Yuuji’s hair out of the way to inspect for bruises. They’re so close together now, the proximity and pain making Yuuji’s head swim. But the only thing running through his mind is boyfriend? Boyfriend? Did I hear that right? Boyfriend?
Fushiguro tilts his face one way, then the other with strong fingers, still checking for signs of injury. “Uh, Fushiguro,” Yuuji mumbles. “I‘m really flattered, but I-”
“It’s not like that,” Fushiguro sighs, releasing Yuuji’s face. “Just hear me out, okay?” Fushiguro takes both of their plates and leaves, silently expecting Yuuji to follow. Yuuji fills two mugs with boiling water– one for Fushiguro’s instant black coffee, another for Yuuji’s lemon tea– and brings them over to their dining table, which is just a bunch of stacked cardboard boxes.
Yuuji places both cups down and takes a seat across from Fushiguro, who is calmly chewing his toast like he hadn’t taken an axe to Yuuji’s perfectly normal Saturday morning with a single sentence. He still feels a little shaky as he swirls honey into his tea– maybe he hit his head harder than he thought.
They both sip their respective drinks meditatively for a moment. Yuuji decides it’d probably be best if he let Fushiguro take the lead in this conversation. He looks impressively annoyed as he swills his coffee in the bright morning sunlight.
After a long pause, Fushiguro finally looks up from his drink. “Okay. So you know how I‘m related to the Zenins?”
“What’s with all the questions today?” Yuuji jokes, attempting to lighten the mood. Fushiguro’s scowl only deepens, so Yuuji quickly moves on. “I mean, yes, of course, what about them?”
Truthfully, Yuuji doesn’t know too much about Fushiguro’s relatives, just that the Zenins ran a powerful financial conglomerate that had their fingers in a lot of pies across Japan. He also knew that Fushiguro grew up away from the family’s influence and generally disliked them. His cousin, and their mutual friend, Maki, also used to be a part of the family until she ran out on them a few years ago. Neither Maki nor Fushiguro really liked to talk about the Zenins, so Yuuji never pressed the subject.
“I need them to disown me,” Fushiguro explains bluntly. He spears a butter-soaked square of toast with his fork and pops it into his mouth. “Preferably fast. I think a boyfriend would be the best way to go about it,”
Yuuji sticks up his hands. “Wait, wait, wait, hold on. I thought you were already disowned? You barely talk to them!”
“I don’t talk to them if I can help it. But they still consider me a part of the family. That’s why I have to show my face at their stupid galas every now and then. Otherwise, they’d start raising hell,”
“Is that why you want to get disowned? So you won’t have to go to their parties?”
Fushiguro shakes his head. “I wish that were the only reason. I need to get disowned so I won’t get my inheritance.”
“Okay, I‘m lost,” Yuuji tilts his head to the side. “You’re a trust fund baby? How much are you getting?”
Fushiguro pulls out his phone and tosses it onto the table. “See for yourself,”
Yuuji tugs the phone closer to peer at the screen. Fushiguro had opened up an email that seemed to be from some serious-looking law firm. Most of it was legal jargon, but at the center of the screen was a number. A very large number. Yuuji’s jaw drops.
“What-” he wheezes. “ This is how much you’re getting? Like, in yen?”
Fushiguro serenely sips his coffee. “Dollars, actually,”
“Holy shit dude,” Yuuji’s head spins for an entirely different reason. “You’re going to be fucking loaded . You could pay off the rest of your college loans, buy a house or a car or- or- ten cars, even-”
“I don’t want it,” Fushiguro snaps. Yuuji looks up at him in surprise. Fushiguro’s leaning back in his chair, arms crossed, a deep frown etched across his normally calm features. “I don’t want their dirty, underhanded business money. I didn’t do anything to deserve it, and there are a million other places where it could be better spent. People who actually need it,”
“I guess that’s true,” Yuuji relents. The amount Fushiguro’s promised is dizzying, but he can’t deny that they’re both in a pretty good spot for a couple of college students. Still. It’s a crap ton of money. More than both of their tuitions combined. More than the buying price of Yuuji’s old house. More money in one place than Yuuji’s probably seen in his entire life . And Fushiguro wanted to turn it down .
Fushiguro must’ve noticed the confusion in Yuuji’s face, because he motions for his phone back. Yuuji slides it back across the table, and Fushiguro catches it smoothly. “So here’s the situation,” He starts. “The old CEO of the Zenin family– my great uncle or something– Naobito Zenin, kicked the bucket last month,”
“Is that why you and Maki went out for ‘celebratory drinks’ a few weeks ago?” Yuuji asks with air quotes.
Fushiguro hums. “Yeah. He was a total douchebag, I was glad to hear that he was gone. Thought he’d finally stop bothering me and Maki. But the asshole used his dying breath to try and drag me back into the family business,”
“Apparently, right before his death, without telling anyone in the family, Naobito liquidated all his assets. Every share he owned, all his property, everything– converted into cold hard cash and placed into an account for me to access when I turn twenty. So now everyone’s pissed at me, because I haven’t been involved in Zenin affairs since I was five but for some reason Naobito left me his entire financial legacy,”
“Woah. You’re like the protagonist of a young adult thriller,” Yuuji gaped.
Fushiguro rolled his eyes. “I wish I was joking. This was basically Naobito’s last-ditch attempt to get me to back into the family business, even though I‘ve never wanted anything to do with them.”
“So you don’t want to rejoin the Zenins,” Yuuji nods. “I get that. But why don’t you just emancipate yourself? Or turn the inheritance down?”
Fushiguro shakes his head. “Naobito was sneaky. He put a clause in the will that if, for whatever reason, I wasn’t receiving the inheritance, it would all be donated to charity instead. As you could imagine, the rest of the Zenin higher-up’s are pissed about it. At least if I got the money, they’d be able to pull some strings or try to fuck with me to hand over the ropes. But if I leave the family, they’d have no hope of getting the money back. And, legally speaking, I‘m still under their thumb until I turn twenty in December, ”
“So they won’t let you leave or turn down the will. So your only option-”
“–is if they decide to disown me first, yeah”
“Jesus, Fushiguro,” Yuuji leans back in his chair. “What the fuck is your life, man?”
“I know it’s a lot,” Fushiguro methodically cracks each of his knuckles with his thumb. “But I don’t want to be involved in the Zenin’s petty games anymore. I don’t want the money or the power or the influence– I just want a normal life. The Zenin’s care about the money, of course, but they’re also traditionalist prudes who worry about optics. If they realize that their endowed heir is gay, that’d probably be the push they need to finally disown me. And then, I’d be free,”
“Alright, I think I’m starting to understand,” Yuuji set his mug of tea down on their cardboard table. “The Zenins don’t want you to leave the family because they don’t want to lose the inheritance, so you need a fake boyfriend to prove to them that you’re gay, so they’d disown you. Did I get all that?”
Fushiguro nods again as he polishes off his coffee. “That’s the gist of it,”
Yuuji can’t help but marvel at how casually Fushiguro’s talking about all this. Like he’s asking Yuuji to go to the laundromat with him, or to pick up some more tomatoes at the grocery store. Like it’s a regular shmegular everyday task. He supposes that a lifetime of dealing with a bunch of rich, stuck-up aristocrats probably meant navigating plenty of strange situations, but this was ridiculous. But the fact that his friend was so used to the Zenins bullshit only made Yuuji want to help him more.
Speaking of helping.
“So you need a fake boyfriend. How come you’re asking me?”
Fushiguro sucks in air through his teeth. “I might’ve… panicked and said your name when my cousin Naoya was annoying me about my relationship status last week,”
What.
“What?” Yuuji blinks at him.
Fushiguro looks away, cheeks burning ever so slightly. “Your name was the first thing that popped into my head. Sorry,”
No way. Yuuji was the first person Fushiguro thought to name when asked about a romantic partner? Yuuji ?? Why him? Fushiguro didn’t put himself out there much, but he could easily bag anyone he wanted. He could’ve said practically any name on campus, and it would’ve been believable.
“But- Why me ?” Yuuji asks in a breathless rush of adrenaline.
Does this mean that Fushiguro thought Yuuji was boyfriend material? Did he think Yuuji would make a good partner? How often did Fushiguro think about this stuff anyway? How high did Yuuji rank in his list of guys I could potentially tolerate in a romantic relationship if they were gay and/or into me ? Or maybe. Maybe Fushiguro actually thought he was attractive–
Fushiguro gave Yuuji a confused look. “We just moved in together, didn’t we? Felt like the most believable thing to say.”
Oh.
“That makes sense,” Yuuji feels a bit deflated, and then upset that he felt that way at all. Fushiguro is always practical to a point. And it’s only natural that Yuuji would want somebody to think of him as a good potential partner, even if he was physically incapable of reciprocating romantic feelings. Right?
Yuuji couldn’t deny that the timing was perfect, too. They’d been living together for a handful of months now, renting out a brownstone on the edge of their college campus for sophomore year. Initially, Yuuji was a bit worried that Fushiguro would get sick of the constant closeness, but they worked surprisingly well together as roommates. Yuuji cooks, Fushiguro cleans, they make grocery lists together, and their laundry gets all mixed up in the dryer.
The shift from friends to roommates didn’t come without its challenges– it took a few weeks for Yuuji to get used to seeing Fushiguro hunched over their kitchen table, grumpily nursing his coffee while looking angelic and sleep-softened through the hazy tendrils of steam. But now they orbit around each other seamlessly. Yuuji supposes it'd be easy to put a romantic spin on their living situation, especially if they were trying to convince a stranger. They have fallen asleep on each other’s shoulders more times than he could count, and they do own an aloe plant that’s basically their child, and–
“Listen,” Fushiguro sighs, snapping Yuuji out of his daze. “I‘m still under their thumb until I turn twenty at the end of the year, and that’s when the will goes through. It’s only June now. I don’t have much time, and I genuinely can’t think of any other way to get the Zenins off my back. I know it’s a lot to ask. You’re straight, and we’re friends, so it’s not a lot of risk on your part. But if it makes you uncomfortable, I won’t ask you to go through with it,” He tiredly rubs at his eyes with the heel of his palm. “Maybe I can find someone on Hinge or-”
“I‘ll do it,” Yuuji blurts out.
Fushiguro stares at him in surprise. “Really?”
Yuuji nods. “Yeah, of course,” He might be insanely out of his depth, but Yuuji liked to help his friends out when he could. Besides, the thought of Fushiguro flaunting around some random stranger makes him uneasy. Yuuji stepping in to help would be the most reasonable solution.
And like Fushiguro said, he’s straight, so there was nothing to worry about.
Fushiguro looks visibly relieved, his shoulders slumping and the crease in his brow melting away. “Alright, then it’s settled. You’ll pretend to date me,”
“Cool, cool,” Yuuji grins and leans back in his seat. “As your fake boyfriend, my first request is a candlelit steak dinner,”
Fushiguro rolls his eyes. “Well, aren’t you a gentleman?”
Yuuji laughs while Fushiguro clears their dishes, walking over to ruffle Yuuji’s hair with his free hand. “Thank you. Seriously, it means a lot,”
Yuuji smiles up at him. “Anything for you, Fushiguro.” He means it casually, but it comes out more intense than he expected. Yet, it is the truth.
Fushiguro is his best friend, the person who saw him through the grief of losing his grandfather and the pain of growing into himself. Whatever he needed, Yuuji would do his best to give it to him.
And for some reason, he feels strangely excited.
Kugisaki laughs for ten minutes straight when Yuuji tells her about recent developments over the phone, but when she realizes he’s being serious, she arrives at their place with Maki in five.
“I swear to god, you are so fucking dense the light bends right around your skull,” She declares the moment Yuuji opens the front door.
Maki hefts up a party-size bag from where she’s standing behind her girlfriend. “I brought chips,”
“Hi Kugisaki, hi Maki,” Yuuji tiredly waves.
“What's up, man?” Maki claps him on the shoulder once before brushing past him into their living room, leaving Yuuji to bear the brunt of Kugisaki’s disapproval.
She crosses her arms and glares up at him, tapping her foot impatiently. How such a tiny body could fit so much feeling, Yuuji would never know. “When you first called me, I‘d thought you two had finally gotten your shit together, but instead you tell me you’re participating in the stupidest, most fourth-grade scheme I have ever heard. Have you been letting Todo use you as a dummy for rugby tackles again?”
“What? No!” Yuuji spluttered.
“Well, it sure looks like it!” Kugisaki punctuates her tirade with a whack on Yuuji’s arm. Yuuji elbows her back, and the two of them dissolve into bickering and trying to shove each other off the front steps.
“Please don’t tear up my fake boyfriend until I‘m done with him,” Fushiguro calls from their couch. Yuuji knows he’s joking, but the words still make his cheeks burn for some reason.
Kugisaki takes advantage of the distraction to slap her palm against Yuuji’s face and roughly shove his head out of the way. “So this was your idea, huh?” She yells from over Yuuji’s shoulder. Fushiguro scowls and sinks back into the couch cushions.
With one final jab to his ribs, Kugisaki tosses her hair and walks over to join Maki and Fushiguro on the couch. Yuuji follows after her, rubbing his aching neck and accepting some chips from Maki’s proffered bag. He takes a seat next to her on the floor, as Fushiguro gives their friends the full rundown.
“So let me get this straight,” Nobara says around a mouthful of salt and vinegar. “Instead of lawyering up and taking them to court, you want to stage a fake gay relationship and hope that you’re crapping rainbows obnoxiously enough so that the Zenins disown you out of sheer spite?”
Fushiguro sticks his hand into the bag. “It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”
“It is stupid. If you actually had a spine, you could’ve had a real boyfriend to show off by now,” Kugisaki smirks triumphantly. Fushiguro turns and glares at her. Hard.
Yuuji watches them curiously. Kugisaki’s question was rhetorical, right? Fushiguro probably didn’t have his eye on anyone else. Because he would’ve definitely told Yuuji about it. Right?
“I don’t know, it might actually work,” Maki shrugs from where she was leaning against the base of the couch, legs splayed out onto the deco rug Yuuji had bought at a garage sale. “I‘m gay, and the Zenins disowned me.”
“Maki, they disowned you because you punched a stakeholder in the face during the quarterly banquet,” Fushiguro sighs.
“I was gay when I punched him!”
Yuuji props his forearm up on the couch cushions to turn and look at his friend. “Fushiguro, why don’t you just do that? Seems like a lot less work,”
“You think I haven’t tried?” Fushiguro rolls his eyes. “But unfortunately Naoya is no one’s favorite nephew, so his nose was expendable,”
Kugisaki hums. “And I guess Maki didn’t have a stupid big inheritance attached to her name.” She leans over from where she was curled up on the couch to cup Maki’s face and tilt her head back so they could look each other in the eye. “Don’t worry. You’re worth a million bucks to me,”
Maki smiles. She reaches up to gently tuck a stray lock of brown hair behind Kugisaki’s ear, and they both giggle. Fushiguro exchanges a look with Yuuji, rolling his eyes again as he offers him the bag. Yuuji accepts another handful of chips, but he doesn’t share Fushiguro’s annoyance with the sappy couple. He’s always admired how tough the two of them were individually and how sweet they were to each other. How they rely on each other. It makes him feel a little more hopeful just being near them.
Maki draws back from Kugisaki’s face, but leaves their hands intertwined and resting on her knee. “It’s kind of dumb, but the Zenin’s consider Megumi a good asset,” She explains. “I‘m their good-for-nothing runaway business alliance bride. Replaceable. But Megumi’s already shown he’s smart, committed, and cutthroat when needed. They’re practically dying to have him in their corner office.”
“Dang, have they been keeping tabs on you?” Yuuji asks, craning his neck up to look at his friend.
Fushiguro shrugs. “Yeah, probably through my social media or through the University administration. Either way, it doesn’t matter. I’m never joining them, and they can’t make me,”
“While I admire the determination, the Zenins are persistent. Like a bad toe fungus. Or an STD. Hard to shake,” Maki jabs a salt-covered finger at Fushiguro’s face. “Basically, they really don’t want to let Megumi go. Especially since so much money is on the line. But they are reliably bigoted. If violence isn’t enough, this might actually be your best bet. There’s gonna be a massive Zenin family function at the end of the month. You can bring Yuuji with you then, and that should be enough to freak them out.”
Fushiguro nods. “Yeah, that’s what I was thinking,”
“Okay, everyone, wait a sec,” Kugisaki holds her hands up to her face. “If we’re going to do this-”
“The fuck you mean we ?” Fushiguro interjects.
Kugisaki ignores him. “-then you guys can’t half-ass this.”
“How do you half-ass a fake relationship?” Yuuji asks.
“Well, it seems like the Zenins really don’t want Fushiguro to leave the family. And it already seems like he’s tried to cut and run before without any success.”
Fushiguro nods miserably. “Nobuaki actually complimented my driving skills when I tried to hit Naoya with his car when I was sixteen,”
Yuuji chokes on his chips. “Wait, you what- ”
“And like, that was so uncalled for,” Maki grins. “The car didn’t deserve the dent it got,” Fushiguro wordlessly high-fives her.
“Attempted vehicular manslaughter aside– the point is that the Zenins would let Fushiguro get away with murder before they let him leave the family,” Kugisaki smacks her fist down onto her open palm. “Even if they are homophobes, you guys really need to sell this relationship. Otherwise, they’re just going to think it’s another plot for Fushiguro to get disowned,”
Yuuji can tell from the manic gleam in his friend’s eyes that Kugisaki was plotting something. “What are you trying to say?”
Kugisaki grins at him, but Yuuji feels the exact opposite of reassured. “You guys need to make this relationship believable ,” She pulls out her phone. “It’s a good thing you called, where would you be without me?”
Yuuji and Fushiguro’s eyes meet with matching expressions of incredulity. This was for sure another one of Kugisaki’s evil schemes.
“If they’ve been monitoring Fushiguro, they’ve definitely been keeping an eye on his social media.” Kugisaki motions for the two of them to listen in. “So we’ll start there,”
She spends the next twenty minutes giving them a crash course on social media relationships, going on and on about a soft launch versus a hard launch, the importance of status updates, story exposure, the works. Most of it goes right over Yuuji’s head. He doesn’t understand all the fuss behind having to foreshadow a relationship for people he barely knows online. But he trusts Kugisaki. She once figured out a man’s social security number with just a selfie and his 7/11 order. That’s some real shit.
Fushiguro seems a little less convinced. “Why the hell do we need to do all this? Can’t Yuuji and I show up at the Zenin’s function and just, I don’t know, kiss, or something?”
Yuuji’s stomach lurches like he’s in free fall, but luckily Kugisaki is quick to snap back. “For the last time, we need long-term proof that you guys are together! That way, the Zenins won’t realize you’re lying. This is all standard relationship procedure anyway,” she scoffs.
“Then why didn’t you do any of this stuff with Maki?” Fushiguro asks dryly.
“Because!” Kugisaki puffs out her chest. “I was so madly into her, I didn’t care about the ‘conventional’ way to go about things. Who cares what other people believed– I just wanted to be with her, right then and there, soft launch be damned. So we started dating, and everyone just had to go along with it.”
Maki looks stunned. “You never told me all that,” She manages to get out.
Kugisaki smiles at her girlfriend before leaning down to press a kiss to Maki’s forehead. “Well, now you know!”
Maki twists around to drag Kugisaki into a real kiss. Yuuji and Fushiguro both boo loudly, and Yuuji chucks a pillow at them. Maki swats the pillow away and flips them the bird.
Kugisaki reluctantly pulls back from her girlfriend and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Okay, we can take a photo for Fushiguro to post right now,”
Yuuji blanches. “Now?!” He was having fun brainstorming and planning everything out with his friends, like they’re secret agents or something. But now, things suddenly feel. Well. Real.
“Yes, now!” Kugisaki retorts. “We only have a month to convince the Zenins that you guys are madly in love! We’re burning daylight here!” With that, she starts messing with the camera settings on Fushiguro’s phone. Maki watches over her shoulder to help.
Yuuji nervously steals a look at Fushiguro. His face is screwed up in frustration as he frowns down at the floor. Yuuji notices how his fingers twitch against the sofa’s armrest.
Fushiguro notices Yuuji noticing. “If you want to back out, now’s the time,” He tells him. “No hard feelings,”
Yuuji shakes his head. “Nah, I already told you– I’m in it to win it.” He tries to flash Fushiguro a reassuring smile, but he hardly seems to notice. He just nods, still looking a little panicked.
“Okay, okay, photo time!” Kugisaki brandishes Fushiguro’s phone, already opened up to Instagram. She motions for them to stand next to each other. “Alright, now hold hands!”
Fushiguro glances over at Yuuji and looks away, sighing vehemently in annoyance. He stiffly holds out his hand. After a moment of hesitation, Yuuji takes it.
Their hands fit together bizarrely well, with Fushiguro’s fingers being long and slender, and Yuuji’s a little broader. Fushiguro’s palm is surprisingly rough, but cool to the touch. It presses flush against Yuuji’s own palm, and the friction makes him feel a little unsteady.
“Ugh, this isn’t believable at all!” Kugisaki yells. “Get closer! Act like you love each other!” She marches up to them, grabs their shoulders, and shoves them together.
The sudden movement sends a burst of pain up Yuuji’s arm, and he can feel Fushiguro wince next to him, too. They’re undeniably closer now, so close that Yuuji can hear the scrape of Fushiguro’s shirt against his hoodie, can smell his cologne that Gojo got him as a gift. He can even feel the heat emanating from Fushiguro’s body with every rise and fall of his chest.
Instinctively, Yuuji slowly intertwined his fingers with Fushiguro’s. He can feel Fushiguro’s pulse speed up, which makes him oddly happy for some reason. He doesn’t dare look up to meet Fushiguro’s eyes, but holding hands with him feels really nice, and Yuuji has no clue as to why. He could probably stand here on the carpet forever, fingers laced together with Fushiguro’s and feel perfectly content-
Kugisaki abruptly butts into their space to snap an angled shot. “It should look like Fushiguro’s taking it, by the way,” She explains.
Yuuji startles. He’d almost forgotten other people were here.
Kugisaki scrutinizes the picture she took for a few moments before nodding. “Post this to your Instagram story and tag Itadori. Itadori, repost it.”
Fushiguro has to let go of Yuuji’s hand to catch the phone Kugisaki chucks at him, cursing all the while. Yuuji irrationally misses the contact. He balls his hand into a fist and shoves it into his pocket. It’s no use– he can already feel the gentle heat from Fushiguro’s hand start to fade.
“Don’t Instagram stories only last for a day?” Fushiguro glares down at the photo on his phone like it smacked his sister. “Is this really going to do anything?”
“Trust me on this one, Fushiguro,” Kugisaki flops onto the couch next to Maki, looking pleased as punch. “We’ll get the Zenins out of your hair in no time.”
Fushiguro relents and saves the image.
Afterwards, Maki raids their fridge and Kugisaki swings her legs onto their couch, so Yuuji and Fushiguro just accept the fact that they have guests for the afternoon. Yuuji heads over to the kitchen to whip up a quick meal while Fushiguro negotiates movie options with Kugisaki. They’ve eventually decided on High School Musical by the time Maki and Yuuji make their way over with a trayful of snacks.
They spend the rest of the day like that, squished together on the couch and heckling the over-the-top musical stylings of old Disney movies. Fushiguro says something sarcastic, and Yuuji lets himself laugh unabashedly and presses himself into his side.
He’s got good food, good company, and they’re pulling off a scheme so ludicrous that Yuuji would probably have to bring it up during his best man’s speech at Fushiguro’s wedding. He just feels so weirdly, inexplicably happy.
Yuuji’s phone buzzes, and he tugs it free from his jeans pocket. Fushiguro had posted the first part of their plan.
It’s a good photo. Their hands look nice together, with their contrasting skin tones and the stripes of sunlight streaming through the shuttered windows, all over their well-loved rug. It looks homey and intimate. Practically natural. Or even real. Man, Kugisaki really knew what she was doing.
Yuuji takes a screenshot.
As the evening wears on, he watches Fushiguro pop a beer bottle open with his teeth (like an idiot) while he chuckles at some off-hand joke Kugisaki makes about early 2000s fashion, and gets into a kicking match with Maki. Amid all the laughter and fun, Yuuji can’t help but wonder what it would take to hold Megumi Fushiguro’s hand again.