Talk To You, pt. 2
Megumi Fushiguro x gn!reader
wc: 1.2k
pt. 2 / ?
warning(s): mentions of puke, mentions of taxidermy - so if any of that really icks you out tread lightly :)
a/n: it’s been a while, but if anyone recalls pt. 1 of this, it’s just a continuation 🥰 (feel free to read hehe) but it’s not necessarily required! Could be read as a stand alone :)) just a silly and nervous first date 🤍🤍 reblogs and comments are always appreciated!! I hope you enjoy :3 also, I am very behind on JJK, please do not spoil anything in the tags because I do see them! So if this is “canon divergent”, that’s why LMAO
pt. 1
He’s going to puke. He’s absolutely, 100%, sure of it.
He’s so sweaty that he’s certain he must stink, he hates his outfit, and why is his hair so frizzy? He knew he shouldn’t have listened to Kugisaki and let her “do him up”.
The bus seat vibrates beneath him and emits one of the most brain piercing rattles he thinks he’s ever heard as he impatiently waits for his stop.
Oh god, they aren’t gonna think I’m a loser for taking the bus, are they?
Sighing and picking at the cuticle along his thumb nail, he does his best to focus on keeping track of the colors of the cars passing by. What good would dwelling on your perception of him do when it’s only making him continue to profusely sweat anyways?
It’s been a week since he got your number. Well, since Yuuji got your number for him, sort of.
And over the course of that week, Megumi’s convinced himself he’s done nothing besides behave like a fool.
He’s spelt your name wrong, twice, and then wondered why he even felt the need to address you by name in text. He sent you a list of options for dates, listing location and expected cost, as well as sending them in order of “most to least active”. And then, when you surprisingly agreed and made a choice, he sent you a calendar invite.
Nothing about this even seemed remotely out of the ordinary to him until Kugisaki asked how you both ended up deciding on going through a “local, close up walkthrough” of a taxidermist’s home.
“Huh?” Her eyes widened and her mouth hung open after she spoke, eager, and a little scared, to hear Megumi’s response.
“Well, out of our options, it was the most cost effective and productive choice. Lots of conversation starters. They seemed pretty interested.”
Doubt and embarrassment began to knot his stomach at the lack of response from Kugisaki.
“What? They picked it. So clearly they wanted to go to this thing.”
Still no response.
“Right?”
Crickets.
“Kugisaki.”
Pressing her mouth into a thin line, she stops her relentless fidgeting over Megumi’s hair and clothes and crosses her arms over her chest instead.
“Fushiguro,”, she spoke slowly and softly, “couple questions. One, did you offer this idea? Two, if so, what were the other options?”
Something about the way she spoke only increased his anxiety.
Oh, he messed up.
Unfortunately, after explaining himself, there wasn’t any time left to get some sort of reassurance from her that he hadn’t completely fucked this all up.
And god, why did he have to approach this so… professionally?
He stopped himself from letting out a groan before the brakes squealed at an alarming volume as the bus came to a stop.
Muttering out a nearly silent thanks to the driver, he takes a step out onto the darkened sidewalk. It must have rained earlier.
It takes him about 20 minutes to locate and walk to the house, his shoes covered in a shine from the dew still fresh on the grass.
As he waits, part of him is wishing you just don’t show up. This has just all played out in the worst way, and he’d rather take the embarrassment of being stood up than being around you for an hour, possibly multiple, while you pretend he isn’t a freak and that you aren’t showing up out of anything but pity.
His stomach churns at the sound of a car door shutting, and he’s back to that god forbidden feeling like he’s going to hurl, when he hears a soft “Fushiguro?” being called out to him from his left.
A visibly strained smile is offered to you as Megumi turns to greet you.
God, you knew this sweater was too gaudy.
“How was the drive for yo-“
“Looks like it rain-“
Awkward laughs are exchanged at the sudden silence you both sit in after accidentally interrupting each other.
After, Megumi silently insists you continue to speak with a few hand gestures and nod of his head.
“Yeah, I was just gonna ask how the drive was for you! It rained pretty hard where I was coming from, and I swear my wipers were ready to fly off.”
Damnit.
“Oh, yeah, I didn’t drive.” He turned his body to face the front of the house, hoping his embarrassment was less visible from the side of his face.
“Oh nice idea, I hate driving in the rain. I totally should’ve considered that.” Turning to face the house yourself, you wait for him to take the first steps before walking forward.
A mixture of relief and bashfulness wash over him at your simple response and unexpected, but welcoming, flattery.
Nice idea.
Fighting back the small smile and pride swelling in his chest, he begins to walk forward, doing his best to strike conversation as you make your way to the front door despite the nagging stomach ache he’s gotten.
He’s never been so nervous before.
Kugisaki has no idea what she was talking about, this is going to be simply lovely.
—
The vomit covering the top of your shoes as you rub the spot between Megumi’s shoulder blades is staring at him. And if it could laugh and point it’d probably be doing that, too.
“You okay?” You speak so soft he almost doesn’t hear you ask.
No, he’s not okay.
He just blew chunks all over both of your shoes (and the eclectic man’s maroon carpet), vomited again at the smell, and then nearly tripped his way down the front steps as he continued to puke into the Taxidermist’s front lawn.
“Yeah, ‘m fine.”
Maybe it was a little more than just his nerves making him nauseous.
“Y’know, if I knew you were gonna get this freaked out over the ‘Pope Mouse’, I would’ve gone with the bird watching option instead.”
It takes him a minute to realize you’re joking. You’re actually joking with him and trying to salvage whatever this is.
Whether it was out of shock, sympathy at your mediocre attempt of a joke, or the image of that poor dead rat dressed up as the pope, he let out a low chuckle.
He kept his posture leaned over and his head down, waiting to make sure he truly was all done, when you realized your hand was still rubbing gentle circles into his upper back. Gingerly, you lifted your hand and placed it in your pocket, trying not to focus on the vomit on your shoes.
All things considered, you really were having a great time.
He’s strange, definitely a little shy, maybe even abrasive, not the best at conversation, has interesting ideas of fun, and literally threw up on your shoes, but he was such a sweetheart. It helped he was more than nice to look at sure, but his nervousness and slightly off-putting personality did nothing but attract you even more.
You’ve never been on a more eventful date, that’s for sure. And you’ve never met someone who clearly put so much thought into spending time with you, and his anxiety was more than obvious. Did he really like you that much?
Regardless, you thought he at least deserved another chance at a second date, one where you could actually get to know more about him other than the fact he might have a weak stomach.
“If you promise not to puke in my car, and help me clean off our shoes, we can try again. Probably somewhere we can sit and chat instead of stare at poorly done taxidermy.”
Unfortunately, before you could offer up any good ideas, he was back to busying himself with vomiting.
At least he’s really cute.
——————
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