Archive of Our Own ^beta

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.

Chapter Text

That morning, it was fairly cold outside. There was still dew on the grass, and the mist was heavy in the air, swirling like a painting in motion. Megumi breathed in sharply, feeling the crisp coolness fill his lungs. He felt a little better after that.

This morning, he’d start tutoring with some strange alpha in his year. He wasn’t anywhere near Megumi’s level and was certainly not in his own math division, if his math grades were anything to go by. But this would count for extra credit, and he would need it if he ever wanted to beat out stupid Mai for the top student spot, which he absolutely craves more than anything.

With his usually snooty stride, he quietly marched into the big, open library. It’s a beautiful structure, and Megumi spent a lot of time there. When you’re known as the ‘bitchy omega’, it’s hard to make friends. He won’t lie to himself. It was hard. Even when he was actively trying to be objectively good and likable, things were difficult for him. It wasn’t like he was intentionally trying to ward off people, but eventually, he would say the wrong thing, or use the wrong tone, or suggest the wrong places to hang out at, or do the wrong thing, or wear the wrong outfit, or like the wrong thing. Things were just…easier by himself. No matter how lonely the notion was. 

Being alone was better than dealing with people’s bullshit most of the time. 

So, Megumi had given up on things like that. On having a best friend. On having a love like his parent’s. It just wasn’t in the cards for him, no matter how much he wanted it to be. Some people just aren’t cut out for love, and it was fine. Megumi just so happened to be one of those people.

Shaking the thought away once again, Megumi scanned around the first floor for his new ‘student’. His instructor had told him that it wouldn’t be hard to spot him—he said he had pink hair and would probably have a big smile on his face. And that he was a really nice kid, just a little—

“Excuse me!” A barking, boyish voice yelled through the library floor. 

Megumi nearly jumped out of his skin at the shock of the loud noise, but the speaker was quickly shushed by a librarian. A grating feeling settled in the bottom of the gut as he remembered the last descriptor his instructor had used to describe Itadori-san.

—‘Outgoing.’

Megumi should’ve known that the phrasing was a very thinly veiled concealment of what she meant to say, which was ‘loud as fuck and probably irritating’, otherwise Megumi would’ve never taken the opportunity. He was smart enough to get at Mai by himself, anyway, this would just greatly help his chances. And, also, he was pretty sure his instructor knew he didn’t have any friends, and pitied him and put him with the friendliest, most energetic person she could think of.

And as Megumi turned around, his worst fears were confirmed—the speaker had soft, slightly faded pink hair, and was definitely wildly and insanely waving at him and him alone. Megumi even checked over his shoulder and prayed for a miracle as he checked, but nope. This was him. 

He couldn’t help the scowl that overcame him. 

As he walked closer towards the alpha, dread heavy in every step of his school shoes, Itadori-san just smiled wider and sat up straighter. “Gojo-san, right? I’m Itadori Yuji. I’m very happy to meet you!”

Megumi bit his tongue as he sat across from Itadori-san, and began to take out his notebook. He just prayed that this hour would be over quickly. “That’s me,” Megumi said with absolutely zero feigned excitement, distaste evident on his face. 

Itadori-san is…admittedly, not exactly what he expected of an alpha. He was broad shouldered and muscular from what Megumi could see, sure, but by no means threatening or overbearing. Nothing like in all the dramas and those secret smut novels he reads. But he wasn’t entirely unpleasant, either; his face was soft and sharp at the same time, eyes alight and curious, a beautiful rich brown. And his smile…even Megumi can admit that he had a truly dazzling, stunning smile. A gift.

“I like your skirt,” Itadori-san grinned, pointing at Megumi’s ankle-length skirt. He hates the uniforms that he has to wear, and his own especially because all omegas are required to wear skirts with the option of a knee-length or an ankle-length one. He chose whichever one his mother had in his closet from his own school days, which just so happened to be this one. His father joked that his mother used to be quite the stuck-up prude, but the ol’ Satoru charm had worked its magic. Megumi highly, highly doubted that. 

He crumpled his nose. Itadori-san was messing with him, right? There’s no way anyone likes this formless blob of a skirt. He felt like a nun dragging himself around in it. He chose to ignore the searching eyes clearly waiting for a response as eagerly as possible like a damn puppy in favor of opening his binder. 

“How about we go over your last exam. You can pick what we work on first, because I seriously can’t decide.”

✦ ✩ ✦

The next morning, Megumi finally checks his text messages. There’s a good few of them, all of which he ignored as he slept, cried, and ate his afternoon and evening away yesterday. He lays in bed, bundled up under his heaps of quilts and blankets, as he finally scrolls through his messages app.

Nobara (Yesterday) 1:57 P.M.:

Omfg I absolutely cannot believe Yuji did that

Are you okay?

Father. (Yesterday) 2:02 P.M.:

hi sport :D your mommy told me you don’t feel good u ok?

Nobara (Yesterday) 2:03 P.M.:

Bro it’s so awkward without you why’d you have to ditch me

I mean ik why but like why didn’t you take me with you

Maki (Yesterday) 2:03 P.M.:

Nobara just texted me. Call me when you can.

Nobara (Yesterday) 2:05 P.M.:

I’m really sorry dude when he mentioned Junpei it was just about film club

I didn’t know it’d be like that or else I would’ve warned you

Father. (Yesterday) 2:06 P.M.:

I made soba for lunch when you get home if you want to eat with your old man!

Might help cheer my Gumi Bear up lolol!

Miki (Yesterday) 4:15 P.M.:

Im going out to dinner w/ friends do you want anything

Like a tea or something

Nobara (Yesterday) 4:42 P.M.:

Don’t be emo answer me </3

Miki (Yesterday) 7:31 P.M.:

I got you that pretentious tea you like. It’s in the fridge 

Nobara (Yesterday) 7:57 P.M.:

Babe come home the kids (worms in my brain) miss you

Yuji :) (Yesterday) 8:29 P.M.:

hey dude u ok?? u left in a hurry lol

also did u do #14 on the math work i forgot its due monday lmao

He rolls his eyes at his dad’s messages. God, his dad’s so damn cringey. He should probably text Nobara back, and thank Tsumiki for getting him some tea. And call Maki, he guesses, chewing on the inside of his cheek.

But the last message makes him pause, because of course it would.

It’s…

So late.

Usually, if something like that were to happen, Yuji would’ve run out after him, or at least blow up his phone until he could get ahold of Megumi. But it’d been several hours later that he even bothered to message Megumi, and it was about school.

Why would he think to text you with Junpei beside him? The more sinister, biting part of Megumi’s brain eats away at him. Would you even think twice about you if you met some shiny new dream omega?

Should he even reply? Well, probably. Yuji’s probably running himself on fumes trying to puzzle out the answer. Even though Yuji’s just freshly driven a metaphorical dagger through his stomach doesn’t mean Megumi is heartless.

You 9:03 A.M.:

It’s x = 13, z = 0.5492. You use the observation formula.

Before he can torture himself by waiting any longer by the phone, lingering on Yuji’s contact, waiting for him to answer, he goes to call Maki. She usually knows what to do, considering she’s his older cousin, even if it’s only by a year.

His phone rings once, then twice, before she promptly picks up.

“Good morning, you gay idiot,” Maki greets, sounding freshly out of breath. That girl works out enough to put her in an Olympic category. 

“I resent that nickname.”

She snorts. “It’s accurate though, isn’t it?”

Megumi scoffs. He doesn’t have to take this from her. “Why did you want me to call?”

At that, her end of the line grows quiet. His stomach sinks. He knows he hasn’t always hidden his feelings for Yuji very well, and he hardly expected Nobara to keep anything from Maki, but the humiliation’s all the same. “Nobara told me about that omega. I’m sorry, kiddo.”

Why is she making it sound so final? Like Yuji’s going to mate with Junpei and they’re going to have little strawberry blonde babies with weird bangs and live happily ever after? “I’m only a few months younger than you.” He says instead.

“Don’t change the subject.” Maki warns. “Me, Tsumiki, and Yuuta are all here to help you in times like these. Your first heartbreak is tough.”

At that, a fresh new fire of pure anger lights inside of him, a twin to his unfortunate realization that his mother wouldn’t understand yesterday. “You don’t know shit,” Megumi snaps. “You have Nobara, and Yuuta has Inumaki-san. Tsumiki’s just Tsumiki. You guys don’t know anything, have never had a heart break! And I’d appreciate it if everyone stopped…assuming I’m in shambles! I am not! I am doing perfectly fine, thank you very much! So butt out!” He snaps, and swiftly hangs up before Maki can reply to any of it. Stupid Maki, knowing everything, trying to rationalize through everything. Stupid Megumi’s feelings, proving her absolutely correct. 

He throws his phone down on his bed, pointedly deciding to leave it alone once again. So far, it’s not been helpful. Stupid Junpei. He probably doesn’t even know how to use observation formulas, or how to even get that far in math class. But Megumi does. So while he may not have the looks, the scent, or the…personality, he has the brains. But does Yuji even like smart omegas? What’s his type?

Why, in all their years of friendship, hadn’t he asked?

✦ ✩ ✦

“Oh, hey, I brought you something.” Itadori-san suddenly blurted in the middle of trying to work through a problem on his own, which was probably riddled with errors that Megumi was going to have to weed out and mark up to high heaven. Again.

At that, Megumi paused his silent reading, frown deepening.

Megumi doesn’t know why, but ever since their first meeting, Itadori-san’s been…bringing him things. Not big things, and certainly not useful things either, but just…objects. Objects that had no sentimental or monetary value, just things to hold, useless things that normal people throw out. Megumi was halfway inclined to think that Itadori-san was a dumpster diver. 

The first time, it was a cool, smooth rock. The second time, it was a sticker of a little dog smiling. The third time, it was a beaten-up leather bookmark. The fourth time, it was a little bright green safety pin with a peach Tomomasu pin through it. All just…junk. But something about being gifted things by somebody who wasn’t his family made a faint spark of interest flint in his stomach, and so, could he really be blamed for still keeping all of the objects in a shoebox under his bed? No, no he couldn’t.

But he won’t let Itadori-san know that, because they aren’t friends. Just study partners, if you could even call it a partnership. More like study charity. 

So instead, he just sighed. “Can you finish your problem first?” Megumi drolled, going back to his book, trying to ignore the little warmth that splashed around in his chest. 

“No. I’ll forget by then, and then it’s the weekend,” He said cheerfully. “It’ll only take a second, and then I’ll finish. I promise.”

He didn’t even look up from his book again before a little ‘clink’ sounded out against the silence of the early morning library. Megumi raised an eyebrow, more than a little peeved—what now?

But when he glared at the table, he saw nothing but a little wolf figurine. 

It was pure black, with a lot of ragged fluff and a cool, even yellow gaze. It stared directly at Megumi, as if to say, ‘Why are you being so grumpy over a gift, you little shit?’. 

He blinked, staring back at the thing. 

How did Itadori-san know Megumi liked canines? Let alone what kind? He felt his scowl slip off of his face for once in his life. Maybe if he got shocked more often, he won’t end up with frown lines whenever he gets older. 

He looked up at Itadori-san, who just sat there happily rocking from side-to-side, clearly taking note of Megumi’s apparent less aggressive scent and interested face. He was obviously happy that Megumi was being receptive of his offering, like a poor little farmer at the altar of some great, unapproachable god, hoping it’ll like its measly sacrifice. 

Megumi hesitates before he reaches out to grab it this time. Usually, with Itadori-san’s stupid gifts, he just rolled his eyes and stuffed them in his bag. But this one’s…

How did he know?

“It’s a wolf.” Megumi said, and a little stupidly, too. He’d smack himself if he wasn’t busy thinking about the figure.

“Yeah. You use a lot of wolves in your word problems. Do you like them?” He beamed, drumming his fingers against the table. Itadori-san was just like that. Always moving, always making noise. Megumi couldn’t get him to stop if he tried, and he had tried numerous times. When Megumi still didn’t answer, simply choosing to run his fingertips over the wooden animal, he continued. “I do. Wolves are pretty neat. Did you know that they can hear from up to six feet away? That’s cool. I wish I could do that.”

“I did,” Megumi said, and something in his heart speeds up as he finally picks up the little figure. But—why? Megumi’s been nothing but passive aggressive and rude towards him. Why, why? “Why do you keep…bringing me things?” He eventually spat out, running his thumb over the wolf’s head.

“Because,” Itadori-san shrugged. “We’re friends. Why not?” 

Megumi’s mind blanked. Friends? Really? Itadori-san sees him as—

“Friends?” Megumi repeated, feeling the word roll around on his tongue, scolding himself inwardly before he got too excited.

But Itadori-san just smiled and smiled. “Yeah! Of course we’re friends, Gojo-san. You help me so much. I feel really good about my quiz next week because of you.”

“I’ve never had a friend.” The words tumbled out of Megumi’s mouth before he could catch the horrific word vomit and keep it inside. His eyes widened in horror as he clutched onto the little wolf. At the rate he’s going, he’ll go straight back to never having a friend if he doesn’t chill out ASAP.

“Cool! So I’ll be the amazing Gojo-san’s first friend.” He laughed, and it sounded like flowers blooming to Megumi’s ears. Something in his chest tweaked. He pursed his lips. Itadori-san, a…friend? 

Megumi had a friend?

He should probably start being a lot nicer to Itadori-san, then.

“Okay,” He breathed. “Can I…give me your notebook. Please. We only have a few minutes left.”

Megumi slipped the wolf into his coat pocket that time. It was special. It was from a friend.

✦ ✩ ✦

Yuji :) 9:21 A.M.:

thx dude ur the besttt

ik u had to leave early but wut did u think of junpei????

do u think he could be in our group

he’s a little awkoward but he’s cool

and he likes alot of wut u do so double cool

Megumi would honestly rather shave off his eyebrows and pluck out his eyelashes than ever accept that perfect-Megumi-omega into their group. Their little group is sacred , and nobody, not even Maki or Tsumiki, had managed to breach their little confines. What made this omega so fucking special that apparently, he was deserving of a ticket in? Had Yuji lost his ever-loving-fucking mind?

Of course he wants his omega in the group, and you’re his best friend. Of course he’d want the two of you to get close.

It makes logical sense, but to Megumi’s discordantly emotional mind, it was just another jab at how lesser than he is compared to Junpei. Junpei, Junpei, Junpei, Junpei who has his jacket, Junpei who has his alpha! Junpei who has everything he wants! A good scent, a good height, a good face, a good head of hair, and probably a good body. He probably has a big butt and the prettiest slim waist anyone would ever lay eyes on. So beautiful, Yuji couldn’t help but just abandon Megumi for him.

Ugh. 

You 9:28 A.M.:

*Thanks, *You’re, *I know, *What *You, *Junpei, *Awkward, *A lot. Jesus, Yuji.

And yes, I guess he was nice.

He’s lying straight through his keyboard’s teeth, but what else does he say? Yuji seems to really, really like Junpei. 

I mean, he didn’t look at me once all through lunch. He only acknowledged me to say that I’m mean and grumpy.

And when he thinks about it like that, he doesn’t really blame Yuji at all. Megumi’s not nearly a good enough omega for him. Nowhere close. Yuji deserves the best—and although Megumi selfishly thought that he was going to court him, to be his boyfriend, to be his mate, he knows, somewhere deep down, that this is probably the best thing for Yuji. A pretty, good omega that’ll give him a pretty, good life. It’s just that Megumi likes him an awful lot. And he knows him so, so well.

He’d be the perfect omega for Yuji, if only he was given the chance. If only he was good enough to even be in the running in the first place. He’d love him harder and better than any other regular old omega. He knows he would—he already does.

It’s a good thing Megumi was practically born a genius, because at that thought, an idea flickers to life in his head. 

If only he was good enough to be in the running in the first place.

What makes him not? His scent? His height? His face?

He can fix those things. Well, maybe not his height—but nobody’s perfect, right? Anyway, Yuji’s kind of short for an alpha. It’s something they bonded over. It’ll be easy. Some make up, some new clothes, a new hairdo…who’s to say Megumi can’t be Yuji’s picture perfect omega, the pinnacle of desirability and love?

Yes. Yes, he can do that. He can make Yuji forget about dumb Junpei. 

He’ll be so lonely without Yuji. What’s changing a few things about himself if it means keeping the only person who’s ever tolerated him by his side? He can’t lose Yuji. He just can’t. He hasn’t even really lost him now, and it feels like his heart is being chewed up and ripped out. What’ll it feel like whenever he shows up with Junpei sporting matching biting marks?

Megumi really, really is not interested in finding out.

You 9:34 A.M.:

Mama, do you have time for lunch today?

Mom 9:34 A.M.:

I always have time for my baby. I will pick you up at 12, ok?

You 9:35 A.M.:

Yes Mom.

He would learn how to be the perfect omega, one way or another, and what better way than through his mother, who got famed Gojo Satoru to fall in love with him? He could do this. He could get Yuji.

He had to.

✦ ✩ ✦

Megumi put the little wolf on his bookshelf, right next to the framed picture of him and his mother at his sixth birthday party. It looks right at place against the general gloom of his room, watching over it stoically, its tail firmly wrapped around its sitting paws. It was too good to stay in the box.

Actually…

Megumi walked over to his bed, quickly sliding the cardboard box out from underneath it and opening the lid. The sparse objects were spread out among the bare bottom of the box, and Megumi easily scooped them all into the palm of his hand and got to work.

If Itadori-san was his friend, then these were all friendship gifts, right? And friends appreciate those kind of things?

He put the smooth stone on the loose sheet music neatly covering his piano. He didn’t really need a paperweight, but it looked nice. It matched Megumi’s vibe, anyway. Made the otherwise plain, cherry wood thing boring. He walked over to his laptop before slapping on the little sticker. It was cheesy, maybe a little gaudy, but it was cute from a purely animal perspective. He stuffed the old leather bookmark in between the pages of the book he was reading, even though he already knew what page he was at without having to use one.

And lastly, he stuck the little homemade pin to his lunch bag. There were globs of hot glue all over it, and the safety pin was obviously bent and burned in the process. What would otherwise be a pretty simple craft was probably a bit more complicated for Itadori-san, and that was fine. He was still kind. And Megumi has all the brains he’ll ever need. 

He smiled at the little pin, running a thumb over the flat of the bottle cap. 

A friend.

Gojo Megumi had his first real friend.

Chapter Text

Megumi’s not going to lie—he feels a little stupid doing this. Who wouldn’t? Anything crush-related is mortifying to him, but asking your mom about it is a layer of embarrassment unfathomable. But, assessing his options, his mom’s probably his best bet. He knows his father had a reputation in junior high and high school. His mom had described him as a ‘heartbreaker’, even though Megumi can’t imagine anyone being so into his father that they’d get their hearts broken by him. 

But still, his mother snagged his attention, and his father’s so in love with him that it’s gross to watch sometimes. Even when he was wearing those same ankle-length skirts and formless blobs of sweaters that he wants Megumi to wear to school as well. Even when he apparently thought his dad was an annoying knot-for-brains. 

So how did that happen?

His mom is driving them through town, humming along to whatever song is on the radio, his long hair done in a loose braid with strands falling out. He’d been at work that morning, so the stress of the editor’s room had probably gotten to the previously elegantly styled hair do. Megumi was slightly envious of his mom’s hair—it’s so thick and beautiful, and falls like a waterfall over his back. Anyone would kill for those kinds of locks. Luckily enough for him, he got his mom’s hair, although it sadly takes the shape and consistency of his father’s. Ugh. 

Thankfully, his mom isn’t asking too many questions as they drive to their special spot. Back when his mom didn’t work because he was raising he and Tsumiki for the first major years of their lives, he’d walk to pick up Tsumiki from school with Megumi in his arms and then take the both of them to a little cafe-like restaurant that served a truly to die for donburi. His mom used to get one really big bowl and just divvy it up between the three of them, but as the two of them grew older and got their own tastes, one bowl became two, and then three. Megumi still remembers how his mom got a little misty eyed when he finally asked for his own dish. 

“Oh, don’t mind me,” He’d sniffled. “You’re just growing up. My baby’s growing up. God, Satoru, we’re getting old.” Megumi thought that was silly—his mom was only twenty-six!

“Maybe we should have another one,” His father had gently suggested, petting his mother’s soft hair. 

“I’d rather rip my uterus out.” 

Megumi hadn’t known what a uterus was at that point, but he definitely learned when he got his first period at thirteen, and his mom had actually cried over that. He always wondered why his parents didn’t have more children, because they certainly had the time and the resources for them, but he isn’t going to complain. He really doesn’t want to be a middle child.

It’s silent, almost stiflingly so—he knows his mother is typically a quiet man, an attribute that Megumi appreciates, seeing as he’s the same way—but this silence feels different. As if his mom’s waiting for him to talk. Which, he guesses, is a valid thing to be waiting for, seeing as Megumi had asked for this lunch specifically to discuss…something. Presumably whatever the fuck happened the other day.

But for some reason, Megumi just can’t break. He’s never…well, crushes just aren’t really his thing. He’ll be the first to proclaim that they’re stupid, and his father had always proudly told everyone that his precious little Megumi isn’t alpha-crazy. And sure, that was true in his junior high days, but these days, the statement’s lost some of its validity. Specifically, for one alpha only—hence why Megumi is here now, risking humiliation for the help of his mother. 

But the quiet is still their unwavering third companion as they park his mom’s practical little eco-friendly car in silence and walk into the small little restaurant beaming warmth on the cold winter day.

They sit in their usual booth and wait for their usual waitress—a kindly beta woman who had worked there for years and had practically watched Tsumiki and Megumi grow up from the cracking vinyl booths. 

Still, there is silence between them. I don’t even know why I bothered asking, Megumi grumbles to himself. 

“I’m not going to beat around the bush like your father, nor am I going to threaten you with tattling to your friend’s parents,” His mom suddenly tells him sharply, fingers weaving together on the table top. “I am, however, going to offer you the chance to tell me everything, and I won’t tell him. Okay?” He says plainly, giving him the quintessential ‘mom look’, which Megumi knew from his sixteen years meant, ‘fess up’.

Megumi nods quietly. “Okay.” He fiddles with one of the menus on the table, trying to look everywhere but in his mom’s eyes. “I…” He starts out, teeth biting into his bottom lip. He takes in a deep breath, and then releases it. “I like Yuji. Like, in an alpha-omega way,” He rushes out, crossing his arms gingerly across his chest and sinking into the seat a little, anticipating his response. It’s scary, baring out his top-secret crush like this. After all, he’s hid it so well, and—

“Oh, honey, I knew that,” Suguru chuffs out a laugh. “I knew that a long time ago.” 

Scarlet flushes onto Megumi’s cheeks. “Mom!” He hisses. “No, you didn’t! Only, like, two people knew!”

Suguru just keeps laughing. “I know! It was so cute, but—oh, but me and your father both know, sweetie. To be honest, I thought this whole pouting-thing had to do with something sexual. You know, you’re getting into that age, and you…well, your last heat missed—”

“Mother!” Megumi whisper-shouts, absolutely beet-faced and scandalized! Y-yeah, so his heat missed last week, but his body’s just fucking weird! He’s a virgin, after all, and irregular heats weren’t anything new to him. He—Yuji—sexual?!

Suguru just waves him off, soft smile drawn onto his face as he shakes his head. “I’m sorry, honey, I just…it was only my first thought. So, that’s it? You like him? So, what? You’re sad about it now?” He tilts his head questioningly, grabbing his napkin and laying it in his lap. Megumi follows his example, sighing deeply.

“Well. Not really,” He admits quietly. “Yuji, well, brought another omega for us to meet.” He explains, and watches as the realization clicks in his mom’s eyes. The pity that floods into them.

His mother lets the line of reasoning fall silent out of respect. “And you’re sure they’re together?”

“The only way it could’ve been more obvious is if they bit each other on the table in front of us,” Megumi rolls his eyes in a way that’s very on-brand for him, and that, at least, makes Suguru crack a small smile at his baby being his usual self. 

Just then, their usual waitress greets them. She makes the usual comments on Megumi’s growth, asks where Tsumiki is, and lastly praises the similar beauty that he and his mother share. Ugh. If only someone could tell Yuji that. 

After she goes to get their drinks, Suguru turns back to Megumi’s quiet stature, staring at the menu, even though both of them know full well he already knows what he wants. 

“Well. That’s sometimes how love goes.” He hums quietly. “Things don’t work out. It doesn’t mean that you’re any less than because one crush doesn’t feel the same.”

“That’s easy for you to say,” He grumbles. “You and dad are, like, perfect.” He huffs. Suguru narrows his eyes, but not in an irritated, mom-way at his being indignant—instead, it read more as…a kind of sadness?

But the waitress brings Suguru’s tea and Megumi’s water, and all is forgotten about as they thank her with a nod and order their food. 

“My point is, you don’t need to beat yourself up over it.” Suguru sighs, grabbing a singular pack of sugar and dumping it into the dark, steaming mug. “There will be more alphas. Or omegas, or betas,” He raises his dark, thick brows, taking a sip of his tea. 

“Mom.”

“Just saying.”

“Well, if that happens, I’ll tell you,” Megumi grumbles. Suguru stares at him, that warm, motherly gaze filling his pretty, droopy eyes. 

“You look like an angry cat with your nose scrunched like that,” He chuckles, before letting out a long-suffering sigh. “You grew up so fast. My baby. Worrying about crushes.”

“It’s not a crush,” He feels the need to defend himself. “It’s Yuji. It’s different.”

“Yeah,” Suguru purses his lips. “I felt that way about your father, too.”

 Few minutes later, their food comes out, hot and fresh. They each take two bites before Megumi gets to the real reason he wanted to eat lunch. 

“How did you get dad to like you?” He asks, swallowing the first of his donburi. 

Suguru furrows his brows, waiting to answer until he was done chewing. “Well, I don’t think I really did anything,” He mumbles. “I was a new student at his school. We got put together in our class. He wouldn’t leave me alone, but eventually—I guess he just sort of grew on me.”

✦ ✩ ✦

Getou Suguru had always been a loner. Maybe it was because of his omegan nature, or his countryside upbringing that brought about an aura of contented solitude that he preferred to leave unperturbed. But he lived in his own little bubble that he rather enjoyed keeping unpopped, even when he had gotten accepted into a pretty good high school in Tokyo on a scholarship. Sure, it was a two-hour train ride into town from his small village every morning, but that just meant he had two extra hours before school doing homework. And university acceptances would practically roll in once they saw he attended this one, so it’d be worth it in the end. 

But that still didn’t come without its own struggles, too. Teenagehood is rough on all omegas, no matter how distinct or different they all may feel or act. It was just biology. Society. Trying to fit in. 

Of course, Suguru wanted nice things. Wanted cute clothes. Wanted to be pretty. Wanted to be liked. But in the end, he didn’t care about those things as much as he thought others probably would. Some people just can’t afford nice things, or cute clothes. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder, and he knew he would never be everybody’s cup of tea. So while he’d wanted those things, sure, he wasn’t unreasonable. It was just how he’d been raised. How was he supposed to know any different?

He knew he was poor, and that he was a ‘different’ looking omega. Wider shoulders, wider hips, taller than most, and as a cherry on top, an ‘interesting’ scent, as the beta at the patch counter described it. He couldn’t help it. Countryside alphas and omega’s scents are naturally more spiced, more earthy, to better blend and connect with their surroundings, to attract hard-working mates. It was simple biology. What was there to be insecure about?

He knew that he didn’t get to be picky with fashion, either, because of his parent’s limited salaries, since the scholarships didn’t include his uniforms. So when he went to the shops the weekend before the first full school week, he’d simply swallowed his pride and walked past the flashy, fashionable kiosk housing all the shorter inseam omega skirts and their matching striped socks, and instead went straight for the ankle-length glorified drapes called skirts with a giant ‘75% off’ sign on top. They were…admittedly, very e hideous. 

But Suguru made it work. He was a country omega. He knew how to sew, how to tailor things more to his taste. He appreciated the modest, baggy aspect they had to them, anyway. It wasn’t that difficult to do either, his seam ripper and needle and thread getting the job done in a matter of hours. 

And besides, school was about just that—school. Not fashion. Not distractions. Not alphas. 

His first day, he was already more irritable than usual. 

He didn’t anticipate just how awful waking up at 5:30 in the morning would be, nor how itchy and miserable wearing scent blockers would be. Country omegas don’t wear that shit. Why hide what should be your pride? But in the city, it was shameful to let that sort of thing roam free. He understood it, he guessed. Lots of scents meant lots of headaches. Lots of potential fights. Lots of hurt or overly enthusiastic feelings. Plus, the city was full of strangers—you never knew what kind of creeps you would meet. Rather be safe than sorry, yeah?

But that still didn’t mean he wasn’t pinching and pulling at it as he plopped down into his seat on the train, more than ready to just get there and get this day over with. 

✦ ✩ ✦

The school was much bigger that morning than it seemed the day he toured. Maybe it was because he was going to have to navigate this now every day until holiday for the next two years. It might’ve also been heightened by the fact that there were now literal swarms and swaths of people in front of it now, all of them already grouped up, talking and laughing with each other. Maybe transferring after the fall semester was a bad idea. Everyone already had friends! And they all had distinct, trendy styles, all of them cute in their own way. The crushing and horrific feeling of ironically exposed in his formless, dragging skirt was weighing heavily on his shoulders. Was Suguru the only outsider here?

His stomach churned at the thought. 

He looked…normal. At least, this was how people back home dressed. Long sleeves. Long pants. Thick shoes, made for durability and practicality, not fashion. His hair wound up in a tight bun with his face framing pieces hanging out instead of pulled back with clips or ponytails or pigtails. It was a stupid thing to feel different about—he could always go change it in the bathroom—but it still didn’t ease either of his rapidly rising heartbeat and glistening hairline. 

If he just walked through and got to class, it’d be fine. What was he even doing? He’d never stressed about any of this stuff before. It was stupid. It was arbitrary. It didn’t matter. So why did it feel like everyone was laughing at him behind his back as he passed through the sea of bodies?

Homeroom wasn’t bad. Well. It wasn’t bad in the beginning, mostly (definitely) because he was the only person there. Everyone else was outside, waiting until the absolute last second to return to the modern prison that was school. His teacher didn’t even acknowledge him as he glanced at the seating chart, noticing there was only one empty seat in the whole classroom. 

He didn’t have to be a genius to know it was for him. 

He counted along the rows until he found it. It was satisfactory. Close enough to be able to see the notes, but far enough away so he wouldn’t be caught doodling when he inevitably got bored. 

He slipped into his chair and fished out the book he’d been reading while trying not to fall back asleep on the train. He’d just gotten to a good part, and by all means, he certainly had time to kill. He barely paid attention as people began to trickle in, person after person, quiet murmurs of chatter and life emerging from various corners of the room now. He kept to his book. He hated feeling like there were eyes on him, even though he knew, most likely, that there weren’t. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had elapsed before the obviously purposeful clearing of someone’s throat ripped through his peace, entirely too close to him to try and ignore it. “Excuse me. Who’re you?” The same voice asked, high and whiny. 

Ugh. Now he absolutely had to interact with them. 

He quickly glanced up, determined to get this conversation over as quickly as possible, only to find the strangest, more unappealing alpha he’d ever seen in his life. 

The first thing he noticed was his scent. It was curdling the air around them, obviously sour and displeased, like fruit that hasn’t quite completely fermented into alcohol, but smelled like it was rotting right on its way mixed with spiced elements that singed his nose. The second thing was his snow-white hair—although, truthfully, it was probably paler than snow, if that was even possible. It was messy, barely even combed, as if he’d just rolled out of bed, got his uniform on (not buttoned all the way, Suguru noted distastefully), and walked right to school. The last, and third thing, he noticed was his face. It was…well, Suguru’s no liar. He looked like a painting come to life. But it was marred by the petulant, pouty look on it, reducing the beauty it held to nothing but that of a spoiled pup, which wasn’t very attractive, not at all. 

Suguru put on his best smile. He’s civil. He was going to take the high road. He slightly folded his book’s covers closed, reluctantly turning his focus onto the stranger and his screwed-up face. “Yes?” He said pleasantly. He couldn’t make enemies on his first day. It wasn’t becoming of him. 

The stranger blinked, studied his face for a few more seconds, as if evaluating his simple, one-word answer. Suguru held back the urge to clear his throat to just get him to stop staring for even a second. “I said, ‘who’re you?’” He repeated, the venom that was previously injected the accus-question now all of a sudden gone. 

Suguru raised his brows slightly. “I heard.”

That makes him scoff. “So why aren’t you answering?” He irritably huffed, flipping his hand in the air. Suguru ignored him once again. Until the alpha learned to talk politely, he wouldn’t get his answer. 

Instead, Suguru looked at his scent gland inquisitively. Didn’t all the city folk wear the blockers? So, why didn’t this one? His scent was pungent, choking. But Suguru remained strong willed. He’d smelled stronger, more knee-buckling scents from the alphas down at the cattle market than this. 

“Hey! I asked you two questions now,” The random stranger seethed. He still wasn’t seated. Honestly, it kind of made Suguru want to laugh. Why was he so upset? He knew he didn’t take his seat. What was his problem? He rolled his eyes, and without so much as an extra glance in the pathetic alpha’s direction, opened his book once more and continued to read. 

He could already tell he was going to loathe this alpha more than he would loathe anything else about this day. More than waking up early. More than the uncomfortable train. More than those godforsaken scent patches. 

His only hope was that he would leave him alone now. 

✦ ✩ ✦

“Kinda like mold,” Suguru jokes, furrowing his brows a little and smiling that same soft, sweet sort of grin that Megumi knows he does whenever he’s thinking of something fondly. It’s the look he always gives to him and his sister. 

He groans. “Don’t let him hear that,” Megumi grumbles, poking around in his food. “He’ll be pouting for a month.”

“Ah, but my Satoru is my favorite mold. The only kind I don’t want to get rid of.” He sighs, sipping his tea once again. “Surely, he won’t be too sad if I added that.”

“No. He’d just be more insufferable.” Megumi says between chews. “But like—did you flirt with him, or anything?”

At that, Suguru bursts out giggling, shoulders shaking with the motions. Megumi frowns. He doesn’t appreciate feeling like he’s being mocked for…pretty normal, innocuous questioning! Right? But his mother just dabs at the inner corners of his eyes, sighing heavily before replying back, “Oh, god, no. No, no, no.” He shook his head violently. “Nobody could’ve paid me any amount of money to say anything nice about him those first few months I knew him. Nothing at all.”

✦ ✩ ✦

Suguru would come to learn that the rude alpha’s name was Gojo Satoru, and that he, by some twist of fate’s burningly cruel knife, sat right next to him in every single one of his classes. For some unknown reason, Satoru always sat alone. Although, after about a week, Suguru understood why. He was annoying. Loud. Disrespectful. Distracting. Suguru couldn’t have formulated a worse seat buddy in his brain even if he tried. 

And, just like how he’d learned Gojo’s name, Gojo had regrettably learned his, too. And he used it as much as he possibly could. 

“Getou-san, did you do the history homework last night?” Obviously. 

“Getou-san, do you watch football at all?” No, not really. 

“Getou-san, where are you from?” You wouldn’t know the village. 

“Getou-san, can you make origami?” Some things, yeah. 

“Getou-san, I’m craving fried chicken.” Then get some?

“Getou-san, what we’re learning about is so boring, right?” Yes, but it’ll be on the test, so I don’t really care. 

“Getou-san, why are you so quiet?” Because I don’t like you. 

Of course, he never actually says any of these things, because then that would require actually talking to him for more than a one-word answer. And he was always incredibly polite, because that was just how he’d been raised, no matter how much he wished he could just bite the annoying alpha’s ear off. 

Things only got worse as Gojo started to…bring him gifts. 

Alphas and omegas in the country are far more traditional. He was far more accustomed to that way of life. So, he wasn’t completely stupid to as to what the gifts meant. Nice headphones? Artisan chocolates? Yeah, it only meant one thing. 

Gojo Satoru wanted to bone. 

Probably because Suguru was the only omega that wouldn’t give him the time of day. He knew how alphas were. Always wanting what they couldn’t have, and after they’d gotten it, they’d dump it like dirty laundry in a basket. 

He probably only liked Suguru because he thought he was a virgin. Well, joke’s on him—he’d already had a short-lived tryst with some beta boy he’d gone to school with before he transferred here. So, maybe, if he just told Satoru the what-for, he’d stop bugging him. 

So the next time Satoru slid up on the wall next to his locker, all smooth and suave, Suguru just sighed deeply. 

“Hey, Getou-san,” He greeted. Suguru bit the inside of his cheek to repress an eye roll. He kept his locker door open, a nice barrier between the two of them. 

“Good morning, Gojo-san.”

“I brought you something. I saw your pens looked a little low on ink,” He muttered. It was almost sad, how he gave his presents to Suguru. It was such a performance. Blushing, stumbling over his words, no eye contact. Shouldn’t a pussy magnet like Satoru be a seasoned gift-giver? And anyway, the mock shyness wouldn’t make him want to fuck any more. 

“You noticed my pen’s ink?” He questioned instead. “Kinda creepy.”

“No,” He hissed. “My sunglasses? The ones you always say are disrespectful? Well, they do have a purpose, you know. They help me see omega’s needs. And I saw that your pens were low on ink.” That was a horrific attempt at flirting. It didn’t even make sense. This time, Suguru really did roll his eyes. 

“You’re funny,” He deadpanned, gripping the side of his locker’s door, plastering on a quick, fake smile. He could smell Satoru’s bubbling joy. 

“Yeah?” He questioned. 

Suguru slammed the locker door closed, so that way he could see his very unimpressed face. “I don’t like funny guys.” 

He watched as Satoru’s face crumbled into the petulant, pouty look he was so familiar with by now. “I’m starting to think you just like bullying me.”

“Maybe so,” Suguru smirked. “Quit trying to get in my skirt, and maybe I wouldn’t.”

Satoru scrunched up his nose as Suguru leaned against the wall of lockers, arms tight around his binders and books. “Courting isn’t the same as…like, getting in people’s skirts, I guess. I read that online.”

“You read it?” He raised a skeptical brow. “You know courting is for, like, couples, right?”

“Duh,” Satoru made a stupid face, tongue sticking out, like Suguru was stupid. “I think you’re cute. So, like, we should date.”

Is he serious?

“Really?” Suguru scoffed. “I’m cute, so we should date?”

“Well—yeah,” He answered, like it was obvious. “You’re hot. I’m hot. Let’s be hot together, and shit.”

Suguru just shook his head. What a self-absorbed, narcissistic prick. 

“I’m not a virgin, Gojo-san.” He finally told him, hoping that it would put two and two together for the blockhead. 

Satoru just blinked in confusion. “…Okay? Congratulations?”

Then, it was Suguru’s turn to be confused. 

“You don’t care?”

“Why would I? Your pussy’s your business. Until I get all up in there, that is,” Ah, there it was. The Satoru that Suguru was used to by then. Phew, that weird wormhole they’d passed through almost gave him a shock. 

“You’re disgusting,” He spat. “I don’t want to date you. Keep your pens.”

He turned around and started speed walking away. He didn’t car that Satoru wasn’t following him. He didn’t want him to. 

He didn’t want to ever have to see him again. 

✦ ✩ ✦

“We just…I don’t know. It just happened one day.” Suguru sighs. “I don’t regret it, though. I love your father. I love you two. Life’s more fun with your best friend next to you.” His stares at his bowl for a second, as if contemplating what to do with it, before flicking his eyes over to Megumi’s. 

He clears his throat. 

“You should eat,” He instructs, finally picking up his own chopsticks. “I swear, you get skinnier every day. You worry your Mama.”

Don’t remind me, Megumi forlornly laments to himself before looking at his bowl. Well. He probably should eat. Yuji likes omegas with meat on their bones, doesn’t he?

They eat the rest of their lunch in near silence. 

All the while, Megumi has a nagging feeling that there’s more to the story than his mother’s telling him. 

✦ ✩ ✦

He’s getting ready for bed later that night when his phone rings. 

Megumi enjoys the ritual of peeling off the day’s clothes. It’s like a snake shedding its skin. Like a refresher. 

But as he stands in front of the mirror now, all he can see is the imperfections. The bony hips. The long body proportions. The unruly hair. The dry skin. He really should try putting on some makeup. Nobara loves that kind of stuff, doesn’t she? He should ask her for her help with that. Bring some color to his pale, blushless face. 

For now, there isn’t really anything to do about the unfortunate thing that is his body. That’ll have to be a later problem. 

Ugh. Caring about being pretty is exhausting. 

He moves to turn on the shower before his phone starts making the familiar buzzing noise from where it’s laying on the counter. 

Only mildly perturbed, he flips it over—

Yuji :).

Oh. 

He stares at the phone, swallowing whatever small lump has formed in his throat. Look. Megumi just needs to be rational and default to what he’s always done best; wall off his emotions. 

Romance is fleeting. It isn’t the worst thing in the world that Yuji doesn’t like him. (Even though it definitely feels like it.)

He should be grateful to just be his friend, for now. There’d be time enough to scoop up the rosy alpha soon enough. Hopefully, he wouldn’t already be completely enamored by Junpei anymore than he clearly already is by now, but Megumi can hope. That’s the only thing he’s got now. Hope. 

And, unfortunately, desperation. 

So, he still picks it up. He wishes he had more fortitude when it came to Yuji, but, well—pobody’s nerfect. 

“Hello?” He drawls, trying to sound as unaffected as he wishes he was. 

“Meg!” Yuji happily exploded from the other side. It’s nice to hear his voice again, it really is. Despite himself, their friendship has always been the most important thing in his life, as dramatic as it sounds. Yuji was his first friend. 

He wishes he has that little wolf carving in his palm right about now. 

“Hi, Yuji.”

“Bro, I miss you. Can I come over soon?” He whines. Megumi lets a small smile eat up his face. He loves this about Yuji. How he invites himself over. How he invades Megumi’s space, even though normally, he wouldn’t tolerate it from anyone else. He loves that Yuji knows what he means to Megumi. 

He just wishes Yuji wasn’t so fucking dumb, and that he could see it for what it really is. 

He nibbles the inside of his lip. Should he let him?

A small, petty and selfish part of him wants to wait. Wants to tell him no, hear him beg. Wait until he knows he and Junpei are hanging out. Ask him to come over. 

See how long it takes him to run over to Megumi’s instead. 

But that would be toxic, and mean, so he corrects himself. 

“Maybe. I don’t know. I don’t know the next time my dad’s not going to be home,” He says instead, to buy him some time. He doesn’t like Yuji coming over whenever his dad is there, because his dad is horrible. Like, he makes a gigantic, mortifying show of making sure the door is left open, of talking about how his precious baby Megumi is too young to be surrounded by alphas, and just generally being his annoying self. Ugh. His dad fucking sucks!

“You know I don’t mind Satoru-sama,” Yuji mumbles from the other side. “I just, like, miss you. We didn’t get to hang after the diner thing.”

Damn right we didn’t, Megumi thinks bitterly. He catches a glimpse of himself and his soured expression in the mirror. 

Dry skin. Unruly hair. Bony hips. Long legs, long torso. Face too alpha-like. Scent too revolting. 

Suddenly, he doesn’t feel like talking anymore. “Yeah. Well. I’ll let you know,” He grumbles, before swiftly hanging up, no goodbye, no nothing. He doesn’t feel like it. Not at all. 

He ignores the barrage of texts Yuji’s sending his way about his digital Irish goodbye in favor of shooting a quick message to Nobara. 

You (9:18 P.M.):

Hey. Can you come over after school and show me how to do my makeup?