Chapter Text
"Here, let me help you." Yuta balances out on his other foot to shift his weight around. The shorter boy draws into him almost shyly, pressed into Yuta's side.
Toge struggles, his movements slow and unfocused. It's the first day he's been out of bed. He fishes a key out of his loose shorts, and Yuta takes it carefully, his touch quick and practical. He wishes it could linger. He figures now is not the time.
The door rattles open, and finally, they are inside. The small room is chilly, with a window left cracked to blow in some of the autumn breeze. It still smells like Toge, though - cough syrup and mint. The boy in his arms startles as if crossing the threshold reminds him finally of his current situation. He stills, feet dragging on the old creaking floor. Yuta doesn't let him falter, for both of their sakes, and as such, Toge's slippers slide across the room until they land on the small blue carpet near his single bed, nestled by the window. Unceremoniously, he disentangles himself and drops down on the mattress. His posture is hunched, engulfed in Yuta's pink hoodie that hides his form. The sleeve falls past his wrist and could almost fool Yuta into thinking there's another small hand fidgeting behind the hem.
There isn't. Not anymore.
"It's clean."
It takes a while for Yuta to decipher Toge's signs. It's more challenging like this, with just one hand, and the realisation almost breaks him. He holds it in. For Toge's sake, Yuta doesn't let the pain brewing in his brows show and instead looks around, shrugging his shoulders in a gesture that's too tight to read as casual. The room is tidier, that's for sure. The bed sheets have been changed, framing Toge in a soft lilac shade. The pile of clothes on the floor has been evacuated, currently drying in the washer room. Toge's desk, inches away from his bed, received a thorough reorganisation, with books, manga and school papers neatly stacked in organised piles. Even the Switch has been charged. Yuta doesn't even know if Toge can still play.
"Shoko lent me your key," Yuta admits, shrugging his white jacket off. He plops it down on Toge's desk chair like he's done it a million times. "I think I was driving her mad yesterday, just sitting in the infirmary. She probably wanted to get me off her back."
Toge huffs, head pointing down. His bangs fall over his face, covering those pretty eyes up. With twitchy fingers, he tries to smooth them down and push them past his ear, but nothing seems to cooperate today, so his locks curl around the ends, unruly, rioting. "You shouldn't have."
"I probably was going crazy, just waiting for you to wake up," Yuta admits, his voice dropping to a whisper.
Sitting down, pressed into Toge's side, he feels the closeness he's been missing for the past two months finally envelop him whole, starting with Toge's calloused fingers that Yuta takes between his palms. It's not quite what he expects. Not quite what he has hoped for. His hand is cold, cursed energy vibrating in a pattern that Yuta's unfortunate enough to know how to read - awfully distant, preoccupied, shaken.
Yuta goes for honesty. He's not sure what else to say. "I didn't know what to do. Had to keep myself busy somehow."
The fingers slowly slip from Yuta's grasp, and Yuta mourns the little closeness he lost. Finally, Toge lifts his head with a questioning eyebrow. The black surgical mask covers the rest of his face. "Did you do my laundry?"
Yuta smiles awkwardly and smooths down his black pants, obviously fidgeting. "I-uh, y-yeah. I didn't want you to worry about any of that… once Shoko-sensei let you out."
He leaves it at that. He doesn't mention the heartbreak, the worry, the insistent squabbles over not being allowed to see Toge. He doesn't mention cleaning to keep himself sane, mind occupied, fingers busy so they wouldn't reach for his sword in search of a misdirected vengeance that he knows would ultimately end in more pain. He doesn't mention how long it took either. Not because of the chores, not because of the laundry. But because every single goddamn item reminded him of how long he's been away, how far apart they were. It reminded him of Toge's current situation and, worst of all, of the immense guilt of not being there when it all happened.
He doesn't say any of that and hopes none reflects into his eyes. He smiles instead, strained and forced.
"Tuna," Toge mouths, sound muffled by the mask. His eyes crinkle into a shy smile, but his breath is shaken, his shoulders trembling. The pit in Yuta's stomach deepens. "It's awfully domestic."
Even if the remark is meant to have some bite behind it, the usual bickering that Toge loves to indulge in, it falls flat and almost distracted, as if Toge's mind is far away. But the boy does reach out, and Yuta is all too happy to take Toge's hand into his, squeezing it gently.
Yuta draws closer and fights back a choking sob. "It's what… well, what boyfriends do."
Toge snorts. It's the first reaction that Yuta has managed to draw out of him since he woke up that's not doused in sadness or remorse.
"I hope you don't mind?"
"Okaka."
"Good. Yeah, good. I'm just happy you're out of that hospital bed."
He can't help himself not to let that last part slip in. Yuta fumbles over the sound, voice drowning in what he knows are tears he's been holding back for the past week. Truthfully, he doesn't want to go there - doesn't want to mention the excruciating ache of seeing Toge's pale, limp body, severed arm bandaged in cursed wraps, splayed under a sterile white cover. He doesn't want to remember the stifling smell of antiseptic, the maddening sound of medical machines or the coursing despair that had seized his body. But they can't ignore it either, can they?
Not really, no , Yuta's mind suffices. They can't not think of it, not when Toge's right here, with a missing arm, with skin smelling of disinfectant, and a body pumped full of drugs. They can't ignore it forever, but Yuta wants to hold out just a tad longer, just a few moments if he can, to give himself the space to at least be happy that he has this much.
As such, he struggles to not think of how this is the first time they've been alone in two months - the first time they've seen each other after so many days spent with thousand of kilometres between them. Instead, he pushes himself to be grateful that he's home at last. But one look at Toge's sad eyes and stilted slow signs gives him an icy-cold wake-up call. Who is he kidding? This is a sorry-ass reunion if he's ever seen one. Done this morning, when Toge woke up, still dizzy from all the painkillers with a terrified, livid Yuta by his side. Yuta didn't even get the chance to hug him. A touch, a kiss, all so out of reach - with Gojo sealed and the higher-ups breathing down Yuta's back, he couldn't risk Toge being seen with him. He's barely managed to save Itadori and divert the wrath of the Jujutsu world away from them. He can't risk another slip-up. Not when Toge is involved.
But now they are alone. Finally reunited, in Toge's familiar, comforting room. Yet, there seems to be a rift between them - deepened by Yuta's guilt and broadened by Toge's shame. It's only normal. So much has happened so fast. But he's here now, and Toge is too. Can't that be enough, even if only for tonight?
He doesn't care, not one goddamn bit, that Toge is missing an arm, that he has dark circles under his eyes, that his hair is unwashed and unruly or that his body is still bruised. With all his resolve gathered, with all his worries forcefully smothered, Yuta reaches forward, touching Toge's shoulder, fingers travelling up his neck until they come to rest on the slim elastic band wrapped around his ear.
Yuta is asking. Toge nods in response.
The mask slides down his chin, then away from his face altogether. His lips are purple, cold, chapped. He's got a scratch over the bridge of his nose that's just starting to heal - surely another one of Sukuna's cuts that not even Shoko's RCT can cure. But it's Toge. It's Toge, and he's smiling, and nothing else matters. He's here, breathing, lips quivering, oscillating between happiness and a tremor that makes Yuta think he's almost on the brink of sobbing. It's alright. Yuta is too.
The rift seems so much smaller. For a second, Yuta sees his friend, his lover , and nothing else, and a surging warmth engulfs him. He finally feels like he's home. Yuta smiles, the first genuine smile in weeks. After that, they meet halfway, driven by the same want that kept them pining for months while Yuta's been away. They both move forward, find each other in the dark, with hands and lips and shaken breaths, and something in Toge seems to break as he pours himself into Yuta's form, melds into his lips, small hand squeezing cold fingers.
There's a bitterness to the kiss that Yuta's not accustomed to. He only remembers bright, cheerful, happy Toge, with a broad smile, tongue sticking out, bouncing on the soles of his feet. He remembers stolen kisses from before he left overseas. He conjures images of tender touches and heated caresses shared when he was allowed to visit last time. Just two months ago, for summer break. Just for two too short weeks.
He takes it nonetheless - he takes Toge as he is and gives himself to the sensation, pulling at his lips, pressing with his tongue, touching with his hands. He wants to feel it - his life force - with his whole body pressed against the smaller boy.
"I've missed you. I've missed you so much," Yuta rambles, finally feeling like he can spill himself open. "I'm sorry, so sorry , I should have been here, should have done something, god anything, I should—"
Toge stops him with another kiss. Yuta's grateful for it because even he could tell he was blabbering, cursed energy spiking uncontrollably. This time, the kiss is sweeter. Like Toge himself is saying, "I've missed you too ." Then, to make it even harder for Yuta to bravely keep it all together, Toge draws back and signs, "You're here now."
With that out in the air, they stumble into another kiss that comes faster than the others, with more force and yearning than ever before. It's deep. It's bitter-sweet. It's charged with everything they want to say - I'm sorry; Please forgive me; I've missed you; Don't go; I love you . Yuta's cheeks are wet, and he only realises it when Toge smears the tears on his cheek with calming fingers and heated lips as they kiss and pull into one another, and time halts for them. It's all tender touches and seeking, needy pecks. Yuta touches Toge's face in turn, mirroring his gestures. He traces his marks, his lips, his eyebrows. He treads his fingers through Toge's matted hair, caresses the undercut and rests them at his nape. He peppers his face with small wet nips, tasting the salt spread over his skin.
Eventually, Toge signs when he finds enough strength to hold his wrist still, "You're staying?"
"Yeah, yeah, of course. Not leaving again, not ever," Yuta answers hastily, drawing his boyfriend into another tight hug.
His heart is shattered, broken pieces spread so thin, as Toge settles back into him, and Yuta feels his body under the oversized hoodie. The one week spent bedridden has left him lighter, weaker, tired. He still smells of Shoko's medicine, of disinfectant and sterile bandages and the empty sleeve on his left taunts Yuta as if saying, " you should have been here. " Of course, Toge says none of that. He draws his fingers over Yuta's chin, over his just-growing stubble, down back until he can thread them into his black hair and rest their foreheads together, nodding.
Toge huffs. A long, drawn-out breath releases the tension in his shoulders. There are a million things to discuss - Toge's plans, Yuta's duties, Gojo's imprisonment, Maki's rehab and even what the heck they are supposed to do now, facing off a fickle, unpredictable enemy who threatens to break apart their world.
But they don't talk about those. Not today. Like a silent understanding between them, as the sun sets over Jujutsu Tech, they need some normalcy, as much as they can take. For Toge's sake. For Yuta's too. So, instead, they spend more time kissing, embracing, whispering sweet words. Toge leans on the headboard with Yuta by his side and asks him to tell him how Africa was the past two months, how Miguel is doing, and what other curses he's fought. He tells him about his training and the new things he discovered about cursed speech, and finally, their discussion falls back into strained laughter and slow, genuine smiles. Yuta texts Maki, and Toge watches YouTube.
It's not normal. They both know. But they can at least pretend, for a night, that Yuta hasn't spent the last year on another continent, seeing Toge whenever he could steal a week away every two-three months. He pretends their relationship hasn't been spent texting and calling instead of sinking into one another's embrace. They pretend Toge is fine, instead of deeply hurt, that they have a plan for what's to come, that all their sacrifices will not be in vain.
They pretend all of those terrifying thoughts can wait.
To some extent, it works. Time passes as the sky darkness and floods Toge's room with a warm sweet orange light, and Toge finally shifts. He abandons his phone on the bed, and his socked feet touch the carpet by his bed. Yuta draws to him in an instant.
"Are you okay? Do you need something?" Yuta frets, rubbing Toge's back. "Are you hungry? Want me to bring anything from the kitchen? Should I run by the shop?"
" You worry so much. I'm fine. " Toge shakes his head and smiles, trying to set his hair into a semblance of arranged, but it doesn't work. His blonde locks are matted and ruffled, curling around his ears as if to point out that so many things are still out of place. "But I really need to shower."
It's true, Yuta thinks. The sting of disinfectant irks him, too, reminding him of hospital beds, painkillers, tears and pain. But he also knows Shoko said no . They barely convinced her to let Toge spend the night in his own bed after incessant begging and arguing on both their sides. Yuta sighs, his eyebrows pulling downwards, lips pursing. "Toge… you know you have to keep the bandage dry."
He hates bringing it up - the cold, harsh call to the reality of Toge's situation that they managed to keep away for the past hour or so. Sooner or later, they have to go back to real life, where even something as simple as showering will be difficult for Toge until he can get back on his feet. Yuta doesn't want to be the bad guy. But he also promised Shoko that he would take care of Toge if they were allowed to spend the night in the intimacy of a dorm instead of the very public infirmary where they have to pretend they are nothing more than friends.
"I'm filthy." His signs are jerky and hurried, fumbling to form the right shapes with just one hand. There's a hint of frustration in the way his lips curl. It's not malicious, Yuta knows, but it manages to crack the thin veneer of calmness they have been entertaining for the last hour.
Yuta draws into him with a warm smile, attempting to prolong the light banter and relaxed touches. He places a kiss on his shoulder, nose pressing into his hoodie. "It's not that bad."
"Ikura," Toge retorts, and Yuta is all too ecstatic to hear his voice. "My hair looks like shit."
"I think you're pretty."
"Yuta."
When his diversion tactics fall through, Yuta knows it's time for the seriousness to seep right in. He sighs and braces himself. Despite the strings pulling at his heart, Yuta knows he has to argue. His voice is gentle, whispered into Toge's soft fleece, "You can barely stand on your own, baby."
"Need to get used to balancing like this."
"You can rest for one day."
"Okaka. Takana."
Yuta huffs. He knows there's no arguing with him when he gets something in his head. Ironically, it's something he's always loved about him, but right now, he wishes Toge would listen. One gaze is enough to know that's not how this will go down - Toge's nose is scrunched up, eyes blazing, obviously ready to push himself into proving that he's fine . Yuta understands the feeling all too well of not wanting to be left behind, weak, deemed unfit to help. Toge doesn't want to be a burden, taken out of the picture. Yuta has faith that it could never be like that. Toge will recover. He will get used to his new body. He can still fight with his cutting voice and immense agility, but he needs more time.
Eventually, Yuta whines, giving up, forehead pressed in the crook of Toge's neck. "Shoko-sensei will kill us. You for not listening and me for letting you do it."
A small, shy smile lingers, quiet laughter licking at Yuta's ears. Toge's chest shakes, and he shrugs Yuta off. "Only if she catches me."
With that, Toge sits up. A bit too hasty, a bit too sudden, his body finding it challenging to balance now that it's missing an arm, he wabbles and catches himself with a flat palm against his desk. Yuta is by his side in a flash, cursed energy spiking, before he becomes aware of its suffocating presence and stifles it back down.
"Toge…" he whispers heavily, helping his boyfriend hold his weight up.
"Takana," he insists, with a bit of bite to his voice, words spit through gritted teeth.
Yuta sighs, closing his eyes. He can't say no to Toge. He never really could. "Please, just let me help you, at least. Like I did earlier, okay?"
With a bit of struggle, Toge gains footing, enough even to weave his fingers into a sign. "You want to come ?" his hand trails away, eyes cast down. There's a stiffness to his form that wasn't there a minute ago.
"Y-yeah. If you'll have me."
He understands what he's offering and the implication that comes with it. It's heavy. His own cheeks blush even though Yuta knows it's nothing like that. His mind couldn't be further away. He thinks about it and rummages if he should clarify. There's no need, it seems. Toge seems to understand him and gives in with a slight nod, his hand squeezing Yuta's. With slow, uncertain steps, the boy draws his slippers across the floor, and Yuta watches him as he opens his dresser and picks up a t-shirt. Toge freezes, his hand resting on the cloth, leaning against the inner shelf like he forgot he doesn't have his other hand to hold his clothes.
Before he can think too long on it, Yuta's there for him once more. "I can take them."
"Okaka."
He insists on being stubborn. Yuta doesn't blame him. He would have done the same, thinking he must do it all alone. But that was before he found friends; before he had Toge and Yuta knows without a shadow of a doubt that if their roles had been reversed, Toge wouldn't have even considered letting Yuta go through this alone.
"I know you can do it," Yuta offers earnestly. "Just for today, okay?"
After moments of consideration, the black t-shirt lands in Yuta's open arms, and soon he's got hold of a full change of clothes, towels, toiletries and a stubborn but committed Toge who insists on walking by himself to their shared bathroom at the end of the hall.
Toge flicks the light switch on, and the bathroom lights up with a whirling static sound. It's empty. They figured it would. The white tiles bounce the filtered dusk light through a small rectangular window, which engulfs the space in a calming glow, that would have been pleasant, given different circumstances. Without much pretence, probably having reached his limit, Toge plops down on the wooden bench in front of the communal showers with Yuta in tow. From there on, the fumbling and pulling at clothes starts. Yuta's on him again. Surprisingly, Toge lets him this time without much complaint. He looks tired, fed up, and probably happy to finally do a normal thing for once. First to go are Toge's slipper which he kicks off. Then he leans down, but Yuta, crouched in front of him, catches his wrist, smiles and offers it a small kiss, pressing Toge's fingers to his face. The skin is cold against Yuta's heated palms. He releases it shortly after Toge throws him a small flustered smile and slides Toge's pineapple socks off, setting them in a disorderly pile next to the boy. His fingers linger on Toge's ankles, but Yuta soon shakes himself out of it. He needs to keep this cordial, practical, focused.
Standing back up, he nudges Toge, grasping the hem of his hoodie. "Hands up."
Yuta feels instantly terrible for wording it like that though he knows the alternative would have been just as bad. God, he's an idiot. Sometimes, he feels like all his social progress in the last two years has vanished in thin air, leaving him just as awkward and clumsy as when Rika was still around. Afraid of the reaction he dreads, he still watches intently for changes in Toge's face.
As Yuta figured, Toge angles his chin down, chest expanding faster, and he latches onto one of Yuta's hands to squeeze it. It's a signal to stop. His cheeks darken, long eyelashes casting far shadows with the neon light pouring down on them.
"I can do it from here."
There's a small knot growing in Yuta's throat. He fears he messed it up badly just when it seemed they managed to lighten the mood. Suddenly, it feels too real, too intimate, even though Yuta's seen Toge naked before.
"I'm sorry— did… did I do something wrong?" Yuta whispers, trying to calm his nerves. He treads carefully with every word, hoping to catch Toge's eyes.
"No. It's just… " Toge's hand stops parallel to his face, mid-sign. Yuta still gets it, and instantly, his chest tightens, the knot growing larger.
"Why would you feel embarrassed?" Yuta asks slowly, his thumbs circling Toge's knees, which bounce up and down, restless. "We— uhm, it's just me, baby. I've seen you before."
While that was meant to soothe Toge, the words have the opposite effect.
"You haven't seen me after… " Toge stops. He can't bring himself to sign it, and Yuta doesn't push it. Instead, he gives Toge the space and the time until he's brave enough to continue, even though his eyes still avoid Yuta's face. "It looks bad."
Yuta wonders if he understood that right. His mouth gets the better of him. "What?"
With his lips pressed together, Toge draws his shoulders in, back arched forward, hunched. He squeezes his eyes shut, brows furrowed together and releases a long, drawn-out breath. " It looks so off. The stump. Scars. Bandages. Everything."
Yuta watches as Toge signs each world as clearly as he can. Toge's face is reddening, eyes swelling up. He's doing a good job reigning in his tears, but god, it can't fool Yuta. Not one bit. And it hurts so much because not for once has he considered that Toge would ever think of his body like that. By the time he's finished, and the ache is ever so present on his face, Yuta's heart freezes, crushed into a hundred pieces, sharp and agonising to touch. He immediately understands what Toge is playing at, and the expression on his face is easily discernible now - shame worn on those eyebrows, fear sinking in his eyes. It knocks the wind out of Yuta, leaving him gasping for air that never seems enough.
But he knows he has to snap out of it and fast at that. He has to be the strong one, so Toge has the chance to be the one wearing his feelings on his sleeve for once. Before he can say anything, he mans up enough to crouch down again and cup Toge's face. It's the least he can do until he finds the right words to reassure Toge that he's still him - he's beautiful, delicate but strong, pretty but masculine, and more than Yuta's ever bargained for. The touch startles Toge, who tries to draw away, but Yuta holds him, pulls him closer and presses their foreheads together until Toge's breath stills, and Yuta finds it in him to speak.
"Don't worry about that, okay?" Yuta whispers, eyes closed. His voice is far from confident, laced with sour pain, but he's trying. Fuck, he is. "It's healing, Toge."
Toge squeezes his eyes shut, and from here, up close, it's easy to pick up the tears pooling in the corner of his eyes, wetting his long lashes. He shakes his head and slowly pushes Yuta away, pressing on his chest. "You say that now."
Here comes the shame again, flowing freely through Toge's face, shifting and twisting until he takes a slow, calming breath and tilts his head up so Yuta can't catch his eyes. It makes Yuta feel sick, downright cold to the bone that Toge could ever believe that he would care about that. That Yuta would even think that Toge is less than for what happened, that he would dare be repelled by his missing arm. He doesn't know what to do, words lodged in his mouth like a plug that wouldn't budge, cursed energy drowning him with every beat of his heart.
Yuta tells himself he has to settle this - he's gotta make it clear that he doesn't care not one fucking bit about how Toge looks, but only about the fact that he's here - breathing, living. With that heavy thought on his mind, Yuta pushes through the pain and manages to draw Toge back into a painfully tight hug, Yuta's arms encircling him, rubbing his back, settling into his hair right at the nape, until all he can feel, smell, touch, see— everything is Toge.
"I don't care how it looks. God, I'm just so happy you're alive after…" Yuta trails off, stifling a sob. Toge is limp in his arms, shaking. "You're still you. A-and I love you, no matter what, okay?"
A small whimper charged with Toge's cursed energy throbs against Yuta's neck, where Toge is pressed into him. The boy presses back, his one hand finding its way into Yuta's locks, holding, never letting go. His laboured breathing stills as he nods.
"Let me help," Yuta whispers, kneeling on the floor now, head pressed right into Toge's chest, slouched in the other boy's embrace. He feels spent, weak, hopeless. A sharp knife is lodged between his ribs, pressing and pressing with the weight of his guilt, but he smothers it, so he can go on. "I know you can do it yourself— you can do anything you want, but I don't want you to be alone. You shouldn't be alone through this…"
Yuta knows the words he speaks as truth. He, too, has thought before that hardships are to be carried alone. But that was in the past. It was before Toge. Before he had friends, a companion, a partner to share his life with. For better or for worse. Especially the worse , given their profession. When Toge still doesn't answer, his body stiff and cold, Yuta kisses his knuckles, one by one, pressing Toge's hand up against his face. "I'm here now."
That alone shifts the dreadful angst inside Toge's chest. Slowly, the boy's hand lets go of Yuta's face, and Yuta ignores the slight hiccup and the silent whimper that accompanies it. He doesn't comment on how Toge's body is shaking and how loud his heart is hammering against his ribcage. Instead, he waits on his knees, head still logged into Toge's form, and lets Toge take it all out.
It's not wrathful, desperate or forceful like Yuta thought it might be. It's a solemn silence that fills the communal bathroom with a thick melancholy that seeps into his bones. Toge's not angry— not at Yuta, not at Yuji, not at anyone who was in Shibuya. He's not frustrated. He's not panicked. He's just finally letting himself mourn his loss, probably for the first time, faced with the simple domestic act of disrobing in front of his boyfriend.
Yuta's there for him like he promised he would. He lets Toge cry in silence, not once saying anything, all the while his knees reddening on the cold tile. He holds his hand, strokes his thighs, kisses his knees and whispers calming words. Toge needs the space, and Yuta wants him to let it out. Now, more than ever, he hopes no one walks in. He doubts anyone would either way, not with the exorbitant amount of cursed energy flowing freely out of both of them, so much so that Yuta is sure that if he focuses on seeing it, the white room would be devoured by it. He's not sure how much time passes. He doesn't dare move either way. Not until Toge stifles an abrupt sob, and the soft hand returns to Yuta's head to softly brush his scalp, with a repeated rhythmic movement that lulls him into slumping further into Toge's hold.
When he finally looks up, Toge wears a sad smile on his face, where just the corners of his mouth are tilting up, and his glossy eyes bounce off the neon light. But he seems better, calmer, and ready to move forward. Toge taps Yuta's ear, and he knows too well what he's supposed to do.
"Go ahead, baby," Yuta says, ears coated in cursed energy. He knows they can't keep this up for long, not with how tired both of them are. But he gives it his best, for Toge's sake.
"I love you. Thank you," Toge whispers, wording each sound with as little energy behind it, almost mouthing the words. It's enough to shatter Yuta, who has to pull away and wipe at his eyes, nodding like a madman, stunned, helplessly in love.
Even with the energy supposedly there to protect him, he still feels the words down to his every fibre. Yuta can't describe it. He doubts he ever would. He feels heavy and light, all at the same time, happy and sad, charged with static electricity that zaps and jumps and twists and turns until every nerve in his body is tuned to just one thing - Toge . Toge, and Toge again.
With shaky hands, Yuta smiles, eyes still cloudy and cheeks smeared with dried tears. He slowly signs a little out of practice but good enough for Toge to understand, "I love you, too."
On cue, Toge softens, like Yuta knew he would. His whole body slumps, like falling forward into the waves of Yuta's love, spoken in small clumsy signs, learned for Toge, so Yuta feels he can partake. It's like the first time they have said those words— Yuta had practised signing them over a month and still managed to fumble it over their video call. But, like then, it seems to mean so much for Toge, judging by how his eyes water, how his mouth opens only to close quickly again, and how he pulls at Yuta's shirt with a quick nod. Yuta complies. Not like he could ever say no. He comes closer, gathers the boy in his arms, cradles him, peppers him with kisses and says nothing, for once enjoying the pure silence engulfing them both.
When Toge feels ready, he disentangles from Yuta's hold, drawing his palm over his face, smearing the pool of fresh tears. His energy is still, and his shoulders more relaxed now. " I'm sorry. I'm fine now. Let's get this over with and go back."
"You sure?"
"Shake," Toge whispers.
To prove his point, he tugs at the hoodie and takes it off himself. The garment falls on the small bench, and Yuta bounces to his feat, instincts kicking in. What he sees in front of him is enough to freeze his blood— the baggy white t-shirt Toge's wearing underneath reveals two short sleeves. One is filled with Toge's pale, freckled skin. The other flutters empty, just a stump of what's left of his arm. Toge gulps, squeezes his eyes shut, eyebrows painfully coiled. His fingers linger on the hem, the worry readable on his lips.
Yuta, however, runs on nothing but adrenaline now, on pure instinct that propels him forward to cradle Toge's head in his arms and press hot lips on the crown of his head, in his locks, on his forehead, over his brows. Without a word, his hands travel down and pinch the shirt between his fingers, and slowly he pulls up. Toge gives in without any arguing like he's letting it happen to him, happy to have Yuta be the one who takes the plunge. They do it together like Yuta promised they would. Toge doesn't have to be alone. Not now, not ever.
The movement reminds Yuta of happier times. When taking that very same t-shirt off was done in lustful excitement, not tender care; in hastiness fueled by adrenaline, not careful consideration. He remembers wondering hands, sweaty chests, and Toge's moans as the night drew away. That was the last time. This is now. Now, there are bandages wrapped around what's left of Toge's left arm, binding around his torso, stuck tightly against his skin. It's hard to reconcile the image in front of him with Toge . The Toge Yuta knows, the Toge Yuta dreams of, the one he wants, so god damn much to hold. He tries not to let any of that show, instead wearing a firm expression on his face, lips parted, no sound coming out.
Before he can snap himself back and help Toge get his shorts off, the other boy clutches the hem of Yuta's t-shirt, pulling on it once. "Tuna."
"Toge?"
" Get in with me, " he signs, fingers shaking and a red dust splotching down his neck. " If you want to. "
"Y-yeah, of course," Yuta stutters, eyebrows drawing up. "Anything you want."
" I need to keep these dry."
It's strange seeing Toge repeat those words back to him with a defeated, slumped, shamed form. But Yuta thinks that maybe Toge is trying, too, to let Yuta in, and there's no chance in hell that Yuta could ever turn him down. At least he can help him like that if Toge wants him there. He takes the invitation and shrugs his shirt off. Without much pretence, the shoes and socks join the pile of clothes, and Yuta drops his slacks near Toge's discarded hoodie and t-shirt. Slowly, Toge pushes himself upright, wobbling, but he gains his footing faster this time and pulls on the string of his loose shorts. Yuta helps him through it all with unsure, cold hands, clammy from his nerves, touches all practical and curt. There's no lingering, no carnality to it all, even though they end up naked in front of one another, Toge drawing into Yuta for support.
As Yuta pulls the shower curtain and starts the water, he allows himself to breathe deeply and stifle the debilitating pain in his chest. There's nothing romantic or hot about the situation they find themselves in. Yuta knows this is nothing more than practicality - Toge needs to shower, and it's easier if Yuta helps him stand upright, washes his hair to keep the spray away from his bandages and later helps towel him dry. And it irks him to no end that this is what their lives have come to. They can't be two hormonal teenagers in love who would pounce at each other at the first opportunity to see naked bodies. It bothers him, frustrates him, makes his chest throb that a shower together can't have much nicer implications - that lingering hands can't be used for pleasure and muffled whimpers can't come out as lust-filled pants.
No. Instead, Yuta has to take in Toge's naked form with soft, sad eyes instead of ones that burn with passion. They stop over the stump, and he tries not to advert his eyes, not to make a big deal out of it, but eventually, they do travel lower to the other cuts and scrapes that couldn't be healed, not even by Shoko's RCT. There's a particularly large gush on Toge's left aide, traversing his ribs. Toge still has the stitches in. It must be painful, he imagines, and with remorse, Yuta thinks back on the last time he saw Toge's naked skin. Two months ago, in Toge's warm room, with just a night lamp on and the moon shining through, when they— it doesn't matter now, Yuta supposes. He wonders if it will ever be like that again.
Once the water is warm enough, Yuta lets it run over both of them, considerate of Toge's bandages and sutures. The other boy's shoulders drop, releasing the weight they have been holding, and he huffs, the marks around his mouth relaxing. When Toge opens his violet eyes again, he catches Yuta's face, and for once, Yuta can't quite read it - there's a mixture of serenity and acceptance. However, the trail of shame and the shadow of insecurity are still engrained in his pupils. Yuta takes it as it is. He returns Toge's smile and leans in closer to kiss the crown of his head.
Toge hands him the shampoo bottle. Somehow, Yuta reads it as an intensely vulnerable gesture. He doesn't comment on it, instead just accepting that this is the situation they find themselves in. They are supposed to go on. And they will. Yuta just has yet to learn how.
Luckily for him, the awkwardness of the situation, the raw openness, and the previous breakdown allow Toge to be a little more like himself. The boy laughs, shrugs his shoulders and signs, " This is not how I imagined seeing you naked again would be like. "
With rosed checks, which Yuta blames on the hot water, he smiles shyly. He's quickly engulfed in a deep fondness that stirs something inside him. There's an uncontrollable urge to gather Toge in his arms, keep him safe, undo all the terrible things that have happened, give himself up, if only… if only. He supposes it doesn't matter anymore. For a second, though, they're back to their usual M.O. - Toge is blunt, and Yuta is awkward. They banter, and it's easy.
"Y-yeah. I know what you mean. I guess, uh… this is not exactly romantic, is it?" Yuta laughs softly, taking a wet hand through his hair, pushing it back behind his ears.
Toge shrugs his shoulders. "Okaka. Takana."
"It feels kind of nice, though."
There's a subtle change in Toge's posture - a small step back, a slight tensing of his shoulders. Easily missable if only Yuta's eyes hadn't been glued to his boyfriend.
" Could have been nicer… sorry. "
"No, don't apologise," Yuta says quickly, stepping closer to his boyfriend. "It's not your fault. And I don't care about that."
" Still. You must have wanted— "
Yuta reaches forward, closing in the distance, water splashing around. He nestles Toge against his chest, hand going up into his blonde locks, brushing his soft undercut. He shakes his head, squelching the thought. Toge doesn't owe him that— sex, his body, his touches. It doesn't matter. It can't matter any less. Not in comparison to his well-being, to his safety, and thank the heavens that Yuta can make sure he is right now.
"We… we'll have plenty of time for that, okay?" Yuta mumbles, voice shaking. He's unnaturally bold, he knows, and it's tough. But he pushes the words out anyways, no matter how hot his face feels right now. If Toge needs reassurance, Yuta is all too happy to provide.
In return, he gets a small, restrained nod and takes Toge's mind off it. Yuta disentangles their forms, brushing Toge's head. "Let's get your hair washed, yeah?"
"Shake…"
With a soft, gentle smile, he juggles the shower head and the shampoo bottle and gestures Toge with his chin. "Lean forward, baby."
As Yuta's fingers make their way into Toge's locks, Yuta realises how awfully intimate the gesture feels, with the hot water and steam running around them, his naked feet touching the warm tile and the smell of Toge's soap, unmistakable mint and lavender, taking purchase of his senses. He runs his fingers over his scalp, letting the shampoo seep in, rubs it over his undercut, and touches his ears slowly, and the feeling in his stomach grows and grows until it overwhelms him. It's hard to describe, the mix of sadness laced with joy, the apprehension tainted with eagerness, the pull to be with someone that burns so brightly it blinds Yuta to the outside world.
Somehow, it feels closer than fighting side by side, sleeping in the same room or being physically together. With a knot in his throat, as his fingers work the soap, while Toge bows his head forward and holds the shower head, Yuta thinks that their position is so intimate it rivals even their first time. There's a softness to Toge's breathing, light as a feather. There's a strange calmness to his chest, an unnerving opens and stillness, like Toge is putting himself out on display. Nothing really left between them like this - naked, hurt, raw. Unlike when they are in bed, under the sheets, it's Yuta who drives them forward this time. He wonders if it's because Toge is so tired he can't be bold enough for both of them.
"Yuta?" Toge mumbles and give a short shake of his head.
The rough sound breaks Yuta out of his inner world, filled with swelling thoughts and heavy anxiety. He realises he's still got his hands in Toge's hair, full of foam and bubbles and he's been caressing and massaging his locks for way longer than practically necessary. He huffs, removes them, apologises. He grabs the shower head from Toge's hands and lets the water rinse the shampoo away, so very careful not to let the water wet the bandages on his shoulder. When he deems it finally done, he moves back and gives Toge's right bicep a short, delicate squeeze.
"All clean now."
"Tuna mayo," Toge whispers and lifts his head.
With his one good hand, he pushes his locks out of his eyes and smiles. It's a sad smile. Yuta knows immediately. There's no hiding the loaded feelings behind the little shake of his sigils and the misty glistening of his eyes. He chooses to blame it on the rising steam in the tiny shower cubicle, but it's, at best, a misdirection. Toge oscillates between unadulterated melancholy and a brave front he's trying to build up with jokes, jabs and mischievous smiles. Yuta doesn't blame him for either. Letting the boy you like see you like this can't be easy. Not that Yuta thinks any of it, god no, but he feels for Toge's situation. He doesn't know if he could have been as strong as Toge is. He doesn't reprimand him for wanting to be more like himself again, to go back to how they were when Toge was all bad flirting lines, sultry lips and brash gestures. Yuta yearns for that, too, if he's being honest, but he'll take whatever comes. If Toge is sad, if he's happy, if he's quiet or if he wants to let it all out - Yuta will take all of it.
"Want me to help with the rest?" Yuta asks, wording it carefully. The last thing he wants is to bruise Toge's ego further.
There's a moment of calmness where the boy mulls over Yuta's words, and Yuta, ever so anxious, worries about the answer. But Toge nods shortly, once, almost missable if Yuta's eyes hadn't already been glued to his form.
"Yeah? Okay?" Yuta says a little too fast for it to land as casual. He tries to soothe his beating heart. "Okay. Sure, right up."
Then, there are just nimble, rugged hands all over Toge's soft skin, soap smelling like lavender, warm water and the constant sound of the shower mixing in with Toge's hurried breaths. Yuta touches him with care and consideration, heart lodged in his neck, stomach just a pit of anxiety, legs almost shaking, and head spinning out of control. He touches him with practicality but never abandons his love for Toge - Toge, who is so brave, kind, and generous. Toge, who lost an arm to save thousands. He touches him everywhere and doesn't let his mind mourn the normality they lost. But it's hard. It's downright impossible not to touch Toge's chest, his stomach, his strong thighs and his ass and not bemoan their situation - how touches like these could have been done in tenderness and desire instead of the expediency of a shower they both know Toge was not allowed to have.
He holds it in, though. Yuta mentions none of it, and neither does Toge. He's silent, awfully so, even more than he usually is.
Together, they make sure Toge can feel clean without compromising his bandages and inflaming his wounds. Once Yuta deems him done, he kisses Toge's forehead. He presses his lips to his temple and doesn't let go.
Toge melts into his body, and his arm rests around Yuta's shoulders, into his damp hair. He taps Yuta's ear, and once Yuta gives him the go-ahead, he says, " Thank you. So much. "
The energy swells around Yuta, takes him by his limbs and throws him down an endless pit, where he falls and falls and falls, deeper and deeper in love with him. The only response left in Yuta's shaking body is to pull Toge even closer, as closely as he can without hurting his smaller form, caress his head, pepper his wet hair with kisses and stifle a sob.
When he feels a little more in control, he whispers against his temple, "Thank you for letting me help."
It's Toge's turn to nod now. He does it feverishly, his body flush against Yuta's in what can be described only as an affectionate embrace. To Yuta's surprise, it's Toge now that pushes on his nape to capture his lips in a heated kiss. It starts innocent enough but devolves into something more primal, with a burning need Toge uses to consume him. Yuta doesn't mind. But he thinks it will be Toge who will soon need to keep Yuta upright, with how unsure his knees are shaking, and how little his mind can focus. There are fingers pulling at his hair and sweet lips mashing against his. Teeth are dragging over his skin and there's a marked tongue licking in his mouth.
It's almost as if something broke inside Toge, with that final embrace, that last ' thank you ', spoken after moments of silence and embarrassment. Now, Toge's back to wanting to feel normal, like he's seventeen going on eighteen, and he's naked in a shower with the boy he loves. He's more like the Toge Yuta remembers. The Toge Yuta can't keep up with and, truthfully, never will be able to. Not even now that he's taller, stronger, and a special grade in his own right. Not even now that he's supposed to protect them, with Gojo's responsibility hanging by his shoulders. Not even after his confidence boost, training, and travels. Toge still outshines him. Toge still makes him feel inexperienced and fresh, like a newborn learning the secrets of the world.
They need to break it off soon. Yuta can't keep this up. The incessant kissing, the needy pulls, the hasty presses. He can't keep himself from growing hard and thinks it's awfully inappropriate, with their current situation, with how tired Toge must be. And it's awfully impractical to even consider anything remotely... well, not in the shower, not while Toge can barely keep his balance as is.
Fortunately, Toge breaks away because Yuta doesn't think he can. The image is nothing short but stunning. His hair is wet, lashes pool with water. His cheeks are red, dusting pink all over his neck. His lips are puffy, and his shape is engulfed in steam. He finally looks at Toge beyond the scars and the white wrap. In just two months, he must have grown a little taller, a little broader. Shamelessly, he follows the dip of his chest down the narrow trail of hair on his lower abs until Yuta's gaze settles on his cock. Toge's just as hard as him.
" Sorry ," Toge signs, leaning against the shower wall. He smiles softly, and Yuta's heart stops.
“N-no need,” Yuta stammers. "I uh— got carried a bit too far? We shouldn't. Not here…"
" I know. Can't help it ."
Yuta is mortified. "Y-yeah. Me neither."
" Finish up so we can get out. "
He nods like an idiot. "Yeah. Yeah. Fair point."
If there were any record for taking a quick shower, Yuta would have probably beaten it. He works the soap up and lathers it down with a speed that surprises even him. Get out. Go back to Toge's toom. Surely Toge didn't mean— he doesn't entertain the thought. He's already working on calming his current boner, but it feels downright like an impossible job. Not with Toge obviously checking out his body as Yuta washes himself. Those violet eyes burn into him, from head to toe, with a needy quality that excites Yuta to no end.
Once he's done, and they step out, the chilly air mixing in with the steam shakes him a little out of it. Right. Back to practicalities. Yuta engulfs Toge in a big towel that wraps around the other boy. He looks so small, so cute , that Yuta can't help not kiss the tip of his freckled nose. "Here, all done."
"Tuna," Toge thanks him as Yuta props him down on the bench near their discarded clothes.
Admittedly, maybe Toge was right to argue for a shower. He does look better, and not just considering looks. Freshened up, clean, with glistened skin and damp fluffy hair, his eyes seem brighter, and his lips turn upwards into shy subtle smiles. His posture is more confident - he's no longer hunched over, hiding and ashamed. Toge looks more like himself like the water washed away the remaining rubble of Shibuya that Toge was carrying over his soul.
Yuta can finally breathe.
He remembers he's standing naked, with a half-hard cock, dripping water on the white tile. Bashfully, he quickly grabs the smaller towel they brought for Toge to dry his hair, swiftly apologising for using it and blotts off the water hurriedly, while Toge seems content to watch him, with a smile that makes Yuta feel he's holding back a laugh. God, he'd take that any day over the sadness in his eyes, the tears and the pain. And truthfully, he feels quite ridiculous. It becomes apparently clear that he didn't plan this at all - there are no clothes to change into, the towel is too small to walk down the hallway into, and Toge must surely realise it because he's got a smirk plastered on his face, that makes Yuta's heart swell up with fondness.
Toge drops the towel to his waist, fumbling with his clean T-shirt. "You can take my shorts."
Promptly he throws the clean blue pair in Yuta's direction. They land in his hands, thumping against his chest, while Yuta struggles with the towel and eventually gets a hold of both. Toge laughs, and Yuta's day gets better. The air around them feels all the lighter. Finally, they are back to how they were - Yuta forever awkward and clumsy, Toge ever so fun and lighthearted. So for that, he takes them with no argument, with blushed cheeks and shrugs them on while Toge finally gets a hold of the T-shirt by himself. A small victory for today. He is getting more confident in managing with just one hand with every passing moment, and Yuta thinks that the drugs making him a little drowsy are finally wearing off.
Now there's a new problem, though.
"Toge?" Yuta calls, and he's met with his boyfriend's gorgeous violet eyes travelling south and a playful, naughty smile. "I think they might be a bit… small."
Toge holds the evident laugh back. He shrugs his shoulders and signs, "Looks good to me."
It's true that the light blue shorts do fit him. But whereas on Toge, they are a little longer and quite loose, on Yuta, they seem to hug his muscles and cut high on his thighs. He takes one last look at Toge, who's having an internal fit, as he's getting on his boxers. He keeps stealing little glances over Yuta's form, making it harder for the shorts not to be tight.
Yuta can't take it anymore. "Come on, I know you want to say it."
"Say what?"
"They are… tight. "
Finally, Toge burst into laughter, shrugging his shoulders. " It's like you have cute booty shorts."
Perfect. Now Yuta feels all the hotter. But he laughs too and tries to give Toge a pointed look but falls through, unable to resist him. He comes to his side as if drawn in by an instinct he can't fight and gathers him in his arms. "That so?"
"Your ass looks great in them. "
"Toge," Yuta whines, embarrassed. "You can't just say stuff like that."
"Why? It's true. You can keep them."
"It's not my fault I— I had no clothes with me and you uh, I mean I seem to have outgrown you…"
"True. You've gotten even taller since last time," Toge signs and his eyes linger on Yuta's face. His hand cups his jaw, trails his cheek, and Yuta can't help but not crouch between Toge's parted legs.
It's him who's looking up at Toge now, and the sight is breathtaking. He whispers, closer to Toge's lips. "You noticed?"
" Of course I did ."
Yuta smiles, skin burning up. He falls forward, and his lips latch onto Toge's, who happily pours himself into their joint, fingers trailing Yuta's damp hair. The wet noises, the small whimpers, the heat radiating from their bodies... all of those do nothing to stave off Yuta's desire. He thinks Toge couldn't be prettier, couldn't be more incredible. His love only seems to grow. And Toge's insecurities about his body, the changes, the bandages - they don't hold a candle to the intensity with which Yuta's love shines.
He'll prove it. Yuta will prove time and time again that what happened in Shibuya changes nothing between them. If anything, it just makes Yuta love him more, for his scars stand for bravery and sacrifice, which Yuta has always admired about Toge with an unshakable adoration.
As much as Yuta might want to show Toge exactly how much he loves him, with his words and kisses and, most of all, his hands, he knows this can't be okay. They are getting heated. With his fingers splayed on Toge's thighs, his lips on his neck, his knees scraping the bathroom floor, Yuta knows they should stop. Or else he'll end up with his mouth on Toge's crotch, giving him a blowjob in a very public place. But Toge is relentless, obviously hard under his boxers, seemingly able to balance a little better, pulling and pulling at Yuta's hair and coursing into the kiss. It's good to feel him like this, alive, eager, happy. It gives Yuta the hope that maybe for just a couple of hours, they can forget about the past week and leave all of their responsibilities behind. Perhaps, for just one night, they can be teenagers again, who haven't seen each other in two months, who have only slept together a handful of times, and gosh, not for lack of trying or want. He wants to be a seventeen-year-old idiot in love, eager to touch his boyfriend for days on end and practicality be damned, the want only grows stronger when he thinks that Toge almost died.
So fuck it.
When the need for air becomes too much, he pulls back and whispers against Toge's neck, "I missed you so much when I was away."
Toge brings him closer, between his thighs, nods, moths a breathy "Shake," and captures Yuta's mouth again with no warning or heads up.
This time, they lose themselves in the kiss. Yuta comes closer and pulls at Toge's t-shirt to encase him in his arms. Toge's thighs part for him, and his ankles lock behind Yuta's back, giving him unfiltered contact with his needy erection. There's nothing but Toge in that moment, nothing but hurried fingers trailing under Toge's shirt, careful to steer away from his bandages and wounds. There's nothing but lips pressing wet kisses on Toge's neck, on his clavicles, mouthing at the hem of his shirt. And then there are their hips, grinding, wanting , and all Yuta can think of is getting Toge out of those boxers and into his mouth.
If only his life would ever be so simple.
The loud creaking door startles him, and they scramble to break apart. Of fucking course, that would happen to him, Yuta thinks as Fushiguro audibly gasps, hand frozen on the handle, towel in his arms. He stares at them with wide eyes, unable to move his gaze away - and for good reason. The position they are in is compromising, at the very least. Toge's boxers and crumpled shirt do nothing to hide how excited Yuta got him, and he's barely able to hold his weight and balance with just one hand as Yuta lets go of him hurriedly. On the other hand, Yuta falls back on the tiled floor in nothing but Toge's tight shorts, and he thinks it would be just fantastic if the cold bathroom floor could open up and swallow him whole.
"Uh— I— Sorry, my bad," Fushiguro stammers, and his skin splashed red, blotched down to his neck.
Words start spilling out of Yuta's mouth with no filter. From the more intelligible ones, one can distinguish, "S-sorry, we, um, we were just— yeah, getting dressed, we'll be out in two minutes, uh— if you can maybe wait—"
"I-Ikura! Tanaka," Toge mumbles, and Yuta swears he can hear his boyfriend's hammering heart.
Fushiguro offers them a tight little nod and closes the door, leaving them in complete silence, all alone again. The boys exchange awkward looks, stunned out of their minds, until Toge bursts into laughter, holding his stomach and hunching forward. The brass pipes vibrate with his pitch, and the sound tickles Yuta's naked skin. It's contagious. It spreads quickly to him, and he gets back on his feet, laughing, smiling, and clumsily trying to get a hold of his shorts.
"I can't believe that happened," Yuta whines covering his embarrassed face in his palms.
Toge laughs and calls his name for attention. "Your face was so..."
"Don't mention it, please ."
"It's funny. Admit it. " Toge taunts.
He decides to ignore him, Taking a calming breath. He lunges for his shirt, shrugs it on fast and stammers, "C-come on, let's get out. Before he comes back."
"He looked mortified, " Toge struggles to sign between laughter fits, not giving it up.
"Yeah, yeah, of course, he did," Yuta argues, shrugging the t-shirt off again. Fuck him. He put it on the wrong way. "We were— you were, I mean, fuck, so was I—"
"Tuna."
He pulls it over his head again, on the right side this time. "I can't believe he actually, I mean, god , this is so—"
"Yuta," Toge draws his attention, laughing. "Forget it. It happens. Let's get back to the dorm."
"I won't be able to look him in the eyes," he moans, coming to Toge's side and helping him pull up the other pair of shorts.
Toge throws Yuta an impish smirk. "And to think he used to respect you so much."
"I— I'm supposed to be the responsible one."
"You were just helping me get dressed."
"You know that's not at all what it looked like."
"Ikura," Toge mouths into Yuta's neck and places a small kiss on the corner of his lips.
"You're a bad influence," Yuta whines, but the smile on his face lets Toge know he's only joking.
The banter feels easy, normal, and comfortable. As much as Yuta is absolutely mortified by being found out with his tongue down Toge's neck, hard in his shorts, grinding against another boy in a very public shared space, he's in a sense grateful for it - it got Toge laughing, it got his mind off today. It gave him something to smile about and use as teasing ammunition. He'll take the embarrassment any day if it means Toge gets to feel even a little better and Yuta gets to see him smile.