Chapter Text
It wasn’t—
This isn’t how it goes in stories. In all the movies, in all those stupid shoujo mangas that Yuji loves to read that Megumi would rather smash his head in than even consider buying. He’s the omega best friend. He’s the one that Yuji met first. He’s the one that knows everything about Yuji. He’s the one who’s slept over, who’s lended Yuji his jacket, who’s bought him little snacks and drinks he likes. Isn’t it supposed to be him? Isn’t that how it’s supposed to go?
So why the hell is this—this outsider standing next to Yuji, wearing the coat Megumi let Yuji borrow? And why is Yuji’s hand on his shoulder, and why is he smiling at him with that—with that smile that he usually keeps for Megumi? Why? Why’s it—no, he’s got to be hallucinating. That’s it. His dad’s cooking was so horrendous this morning that the char has sent him into a state of mindlessness and right now he’s laying on the floor of his room dying.
That would make way more sense than what’s going on right now.
“Junpei, these are the friends I was talking about,” Yuji says, all cheery and stupid, like he usually is, a strong, calloused hand throwing itself out towards Nobara and Megumi.
The boy—Junpei, apparently—is shorter than Yuji, the perfect height to lean his head on Yuji’s shoulder. His hair is long and dark, glossy and pretty, and hangs over one of his begrudgingly pretty gray eyes. His face is long and soft on the edges. His cheeks are rosy, being so close to Yuji like that. And if any of the other stuff hadn’t given it away, his scent certainly did. This boy is an omega.
He turns to Megumi and Nobara, his perfect hair bouncing perfectly from the perfect motion and landing perfectly across his perfect face again. Megumi fights back a displeased nose scrunch—which is very, very unlike him. Usually, Megumi is so free with his emotions. Yuji has always said it’s one of the reasons why he likes him so much. Because Megumi doesn’t give a fuck. But that’s wrong—Megumi does give a fuck, he gives a lot of fucks, especially when it comes to stupid Itadori Yuji.
“Hi,” Junpei waves, and his hand looks so soft and with perfect, skinny fingers. “Just in case Yuji hasn’t mentioned me, my name’s Junpei.”
The lack of honorifics is glaringly obvious. No matter how sweet and unaffected Junpei looks, the way his eyes cut over to Yuji whenever he speaks gives it all away. He likes Yuji. And from the way Yuji has his arm wrapped around his shoulder, Yuji likes him too.
It makes Megumi’s stomach start to hurt.
His mouth remains closed, eyes locked onto the napkin holder on the table. Luckily, Nobara understands his plight.
“Once or twice,” She replies, voice warm and accepting. Nobara’s always been nice to people like Junpei. Those in proximity to them, but not close enough to actually earn her sharper, more cutting side. “I’m Kugisaki. This is Gojo.”
At least some things stay the same.
Once or twice? Megumi thinks, brows slightly furrowing as he tries to run through his memories, trying to remember when Yuji would’ve ever mentioned a Junpei. And the answer was not once did he. Not at all, at least not to—
Not to Megumi.
His best friend didn’t tell him about the omega he’d clearly been seeing. This omega, now sitting in front of them as they sit down for lunch. With Yuji’s arm wrapped around him. While wearing Megumi’s fucking jacket. If he didn’t value his dignity, he would’ve already feigned a stomach ache and gone home, curled up in his bed with his headphones, and waited for his mom to come in the room and curl up with him like he always does whenever Megumi’s upset. But this is presumably…important to Yuji, so he’ll tough it out. And hope they break up.
He can’t even stomach looking at Yuji right now, but if he could, he’d be staring daggers. They’ve always been able to telepathically communicate like that—just yet another reason why they should’ve ended up together. Not Yuji and this…this perfect omega that he has in front of him.
“Yuji talks about you guys all the time. I’m so happy to finally meet the famous Kugisaki-san and Gojo-san,” Junpei tries again, probably trying to get Megumi to just look up at him, to acknowledge that he’s there. But when the table remains silent, Yuji just cracks his knuckles.
“Well, I’m really hungry. Do you want a menu?” Yuji says, probably to break the ice.
Megumi almost chimes in with, ‘No, dipshit, we eat here all the time,’ simply because it’s his knee jerk reaction to respond to everything Yuji says, before he quickly and promptly is reminded that it’s not him he’s talking to because Junpei hums an affirming tone. All of a sudden, Megumi’s appetite is gone.
He zones out of the conversation chattering on without him, Yuji talking away like he was never there to begin with. He knows it’s cruel to want Yuji to be fussing over his obviously sour mood like he usually would be, but—Junpei isn’t supposed to be on Yuji’s arm. That’s his spot. Yuji used to pull him close with an arm around his shoulder all the time, used to rub his face into his hair like it was just second nature. He isn’t supposed to be watching from the sidelines, isn’t supposed to be forgotten by Yuji the second somebody else is there.
When Yuji had asked him and Nobara to lunch with a ‘little surprise’, Megumi thought that he was going to tell them that the adoption papers had gone through, and that Yuji was officially going to be a part of Nanami-sama’s family. Not—not this.
And now that Junpei’s here, all he can smell is his scent. Just like everything else about him, he’s so—it’s perfect. Because of course it is. He smells like redcurrant and clean, fresh flowers—sweet, calming, crisp to the lungs. Not like Megumi’s.
Even though Megumi’s an omega, his scent isn’t really sweet. Neither is his mom’s. It’s a genetic thing, he guesses, because he’s always been told he smells like an alpha. He has more of a spiced honey and sage. Not comforting, not inviting. Defensive, almost. Just like Megumi himself. But he always thought…with the way Yuji always was always up against him, he thought that maybe Yuji liked it. Liked it almost as much as Megumi likes Yuji’s.
Nobody ever liked Megumi’s…well, anything. Not before Yuji.
In junior high, Megumi was lonely. He didn’t have many friends. He got pinned as the ‘unapproachable omega’, which was basically a death sentence for making friends, let alone boyfriends or girlfriends or anything in between. He wanted friends, sure; but it was always just easier to be by himself. It saved himself the heartache and anger of rejection. After all, he always had his mom and his sister, and, begrudgingly, his dad.
But when they got to high school, things were different. He met Yuji through tutoring. Megumi was always exceptional at math, whereas Yuji…well, wasn’t. So he was assigned to be Yuji’s tutor, and the rest was history. History Megumi thought for sure was going to end in a proposal, a marriage, and maybe even a few pups of their own.
Not Junpei.
After all those years of being by himself, of eating alone, of imagining himself dying alone in his nineties surrounded by his dogs and having to pretend to come to terms with it, they all led him to his Yuji. The person who would erase all of that.
He needs to go before his stoney exterior breaks.
He takes out his phone and goes to his mom’s contact.
You 1:42 P.M.:
Pizza. Asap.
Thankfully, his mom’s kind of insane, and didn’t wait even a millisecond before calling him. Megumi silently thanks whatever god is out there and doesn’t waste a minute before starting to get up, brandishing his phone screen with the large ‘MOM’ contact on the front.
“Phone call,” He mumbles as some sort of excuse, in a blind haze as he stumbles up to his feet, still not looking a single person in the eye. It’s the first time he’s spoken, so the table is silent as he walks away, and he can feel the burning eyes in his back.
Finally, he hears Yuji acknowledge that he exists. But it’s not what he wanted. “Eh, don’t mind Megs. He’s just kind of a grouch,” Yuji laughs, presumably at Junpei, and while most of the time his little jabs about Megumi’s attitude don’t bug him, this time it grates under his skin like a pocket knife.
He squeezes his eyes shut and presses ‘answer’.
“Where are you?” His mom immediately demands, voice stern. “What the hell’s going on?”
“I’m okay,” He answers, fighting to keep his voice even. “I just really, really want to come home, and I needed an excuse.”
“What happened? Where’s Yuji-kun and Nobara-kun? Do they need to come home, too?” His voice is fought with worry. It makes Megumi feel bad about using their secret code word.
Nobara would be nice to bring along. But both of them dipping out would be suspicious, so not now. “No,” He whispers. “Just me.”
“And you’re completely fine? No one’s hurt you, no one’s…done anything? Your heat’s not early, is it?”
“No!” Megumi almost squawks. Maybe this was a bad idea.
His mom is quiet on the other line for a second. Megumi watches as the cars go by, as happy couples walk down the street holding hands. The bitterness in his mouth only grows. And then, his mom says, “Then you know we have to talk about this when I get back from work, right?”
“I’m fine, I swear,” Megumi stresses. He really doesn’t want to talk about it. “I just don’t want to be out anymore.”
“You don’t want to be out with Yuji-kun and Nobara-kun. You want to be away from the people you’re practically attached at the hip to.”
“I know how it sounds.”
“Your father is home. He’ll be concerned. He’ll want to talk about it.”
Megumi scoffs. “As if.”
“Your dad loves you, Megumi. He’ll notice right away.”
“I know he’ll notice. But even if I needed to talk, like hell I’d talk with him about it.”
“There will be a conversation.”
“I’m coming home anyway,” Megumi decides, pulling the phone away to hang up. His thumb hovers over the ‘hang up’ button. Pursing his lips, at the last minute, he pulls it back to rush out a, “Thank you, mama,” Then does actually hang up.
He could go up to the table, tell them that his dad needed him home to help him do chores, but it would just—he would smell Junpei again, see his jacket on him, see him on him, and it would all come out all messed up. He’ll just pretend that it was an emergency.
Without a second thought, he bustles out of the diner, the little bell jingling as he has his quick getaway.
Megumi doesn’t run away from his problems. Not usually, and certainly not so literally.
But he just—all he can smell is berries and flowers. He wants to be home, where he has his nest, where his family and Nobara and Yuji’s scents are all tucked neatly away in his room, without the taint to ruin it.
A perfect face. A perfect scent. Perfect hair, perfect attitude, perfect politeness.
‘He’s just kind of a grouch.’
He can feel his phone buzzing, probably notifications from Nobara or his dad. Certainly not Yuji, with him being preoccupied with…Junpei.
Thankfully, his house is only a short run away from the diner where the three usually congregate at, so he’s climbing up the stairs to his door and throwing it open in only a few long minutes.
He only pauses to shuck his shoes off, eyes bleary as he stalks through the entry hallway.
He sucks in a breath just as his dad calls out from the kitchen. “Gumi? Is that you?”
Great. Megumi scowls to himself. It’s not like he hates his dad, just that…well, he prefers his mom and his sister. His dad is just awkward, and overbearing, and all around is just so annoying. He presses all of Megumi’s buttons and laughs when he gets irritated. And the worst part is, he looks just like him, just with his mom’s hair and secondary gender. Megumi’s tall, with a sharp, angular face, and a lanky disposition. He doesn’t have perfect curves or a good butt like he knows Yuji likes.
Junpei probably does, though.
Megumi wants to punch his head until that thought disappears. Junpei already obviously has a leg up on him in every other department—couldn’t he have had a weird, awkward body as well? Why did Megumi have to be the oddity that Yuji would never look twice at romantically?
Of course, when Megumi doesn’t answer, his dad rounds the corner, wooden spoon in hand, probably making himself lunch as well. He’s grinning his stupid fucking grin, wearing his stupid fucking fancy work outfit that probably costs as much as somebody’s monthly salary. “Your mom called and said you’d be coming ho—” But he pauses at the sight of Megumi panting in the hallway, scarf and coat squeezed in his hands as he spirals on the list of perfect things that perfect Junpei has that Megumi very much doesn’t. Or, maybe, things that he does have, but just things that Junpei has better.
Good enough to make Yuji like that version.
Immediately, his dad bristles. Ugh. He’s such an alpha, it’s gross. “Tears? What’s the crying for?” He rushes over, hand outstretched to obviously take his pup’s face in his palm, but Megumi jerks away and wipes his face off before he can. Sure enough, his dad was right—he was crying.
When had he done that? Hopefully not in front of Yuji or Nobara. That’d be awkward to explain.
His dad crosses his arms, his familiar scent of vetiver and smooth rum souring and curling angrily in the air. “Was it one of those little alphas? You know, I wasn’t sure about you hanging around them. I know you can take care of yourself, but there’s more than one way to hurt someone.”
“I don’t want to talk about it,” Megumi spits, trying to make his scent equally as angry instead of the deepening sadness he’s just now noticing it is. Scents are annoying—it’s too easy to gauge how someone’s feeling. “When’s mom coming home?”
“If you don’t tell me which one it is now, I’ll march down to Nanami and Haibara’s myself and find out.” His dad threatens. Oh no. No, no. That would be absolutely mortifying , and he knows his dad would do it, too. His mom might be crazy, but his dad’s just as psycho. He’d get to the bottom of Megumi’s random spurt of moodiness, even if it meant friendship suicide with Yuji.
“Dad!” He practically screeches, his face turning red. “It wasn’t one of them! I just need to be alone!” He just needs to be alone. Again. Alone, alone, alone. He pushes past his dad without another word. He marches through the living room, his dad hot on his heels.
“I know you’re upset, but don’t shove past me like that—” He begins to chastise, but Megumi’s already ascending up the stairs like his feet are on fire.
“If you do anything hideously embarrassing, I’ll hate you forever!” He shouts before slamming the door closed.
But of course, his dad always has to have the final word. “How’s that any different from now?!”
The silence that follows is deafening. He throws himself onto his bed, finally feeling the stress and the aches in his chest and stomach fall away as the smells of all the people he loves fill his nose and his head, settling his organs. He shucks off his pants and his sweater, leaving himself just in his underwear and t-shirt, before crawling under his numerous blankets and curling up into a little ball. He puts his headphones in.
Megumi tries to kill the thoughts poisoning his brain once more.
The tears come easier here, come more willingly.
Why didn’t Yuji say anything about Junpei to me?
They were supposed to be best friends. Yuji had come over to his house all the time. Yuji knows his parents by name, has sung karaoke with Tsumiki. They’ve been on vacation together before. They’ve spent New Years together, make time for each other on Christmas. It just made sense from Megumi’s perspective.
But he should’ve known that it was bullshit. After all, Megumi’s just—Megumi.
He’s not polite. He’s bitchy, he’s pessimistic. He’s selfish. He smells like an alpha and looks too masculine to be an omega. He’s tall. He’s bristly. His hair is hard to style, his scent is almost always sour, he’s uppity, he’s cynical, he wears too much black.
Who would like him, anyway? Certainly not Yuji. He’s too…sweet. He’s too good. He deserves somebody who’s going to be kind to him, who he won’t get tired of easily. Someone he can build a family with.
Again, not Megumi.
They’ll just be friends. That’s all Megumi will ever be to anyone. Just friends.
He doesn’t know how much time has passed before his mom comes home because he fell asleep, but the next thing he knows, a body is sliding into his bed, an arm wrapping around his midsection, pulling him close against a broad, warm chest, gently pulling him from sleep. The scent that accompanies the body is unmistakable. A pup will always recognize their mother.
He drinks in the soothing incense and nutmeg scent, screaming comfort and worry.
“Oh, my baby,” His mom coos, long fingers carding through Megumi’s hair. “What happened? Why were you crying? Your dad told me how upset you were.”
Of course he did. Can’t the man keep anything to himself?
“I’m fine, mom,” Megumi mumbles, voice muffled from his mom’s long, black hair that’s spilled over his face.
“Okay,” His mom whispers. “How about we just cuddle for a bit? I’m going to start dinner soon. Any requests?”
Something with ginger. He wants to say.
“No,” He says instead.
“Okay.” He feels a kiss being pressed to the back of his head, feeling warm and safe in the comfort of his nest and his mother’s embrace. “If there’s anything you want to talk about. Anything at all. I’ll be here. I’m an omega, too, if you remember. I understand probably a lot more than you think.”
And for some reason, that breaks the dam. Does he? His dad has always been head over heels for his mom—even in all the high school pictures he’s seen of them, they’ve been cuddled up together, and they’d even given each other their mating bites the month of their graduation, and had Tsumiki almost straight after. That hardly sounds like understanding.
How is he the most unlucky omega? How did he get saddled with the unsightly features and smells?
“Mama,” He starts out, willing his voice not to crack as he feels more and more tears fill his eyes. “Am I—pretty?”
He feels his mom stiffen behind him as the tears fall down the sides of his face. Megumi never cared about looks or anything trivial like that—it’s probably a shock for him to hear this, especially coming from him. He’s always thought that the beauty standards for omegas were bullshit, and his mom had always reinforced that belief. He always wanted Megumi to feel confident in his own way—what brought this on?
Thankfully, his mom has an answer for everything. “Of course, my love!” He cries, the hand playing with his hair pulling back his bangs to kiss his temple and forehead while crushing him in a hug. “You are so pretty! Why? Did somebody say something?”
“No,” Megumi sniffles. God, this is humiliating, the shame welling up and spilling out, but he can’t seem to stop the flow. “But—I’m just—I smell bad, and sometimes, I’m too tall, and everything’s—I just—”
“You do not smell bad,” His mother scolds. “You smell…deeper. Like me. That’s not a bad thing, is it? It’s comforting. Less headaches, yeah? And you’re just tall because me and your father are tall. Lord knows you take after him, and the man’s a damn giant.” He jokes, trying to lighten the mood, but his good nature quickly tampers down at Megumi’s perpetuating silence. He gives him another quick peck on the head. “You are not ugly, Gojo Megumi. And I don’t ever want to hear you say it or suspect you’re thinking it ever again.”
He nods. Even if he knows it isn’t true, he nods. His mom won’t let it go otherwise. Honestly, it’s fine with Megumi that he’s not beautiful—but right now, it just rubs him raw.
“Okay,” He sighs. “Okay, mama.”
“Good. We’ll go eat dinner in a second, okay?” His mother soothes, hugging him tightly one last time. “I could use a nap, too. Come cuddle with your poor mother.” Megumi bites back a smile as he twists around in his mother’s hold until he’s facing him, looking at his tan face and deep-set eyes. How could his mom ever understand? He doesn’t look a day over twenty-eight, even after two kids and being married to one of the most annoying people on the face of the planet earth.
He burrows into his hold, melting in the feeling of being comforted.
His short nap is dreamless, but the house smells like curry with extra amounts of ginger, and his mom is still there, warm and cozy and purring to help alleviate Megumi’s worries in his sleep.