Right now, he’s at a sorority party — he doesn’t even know their name, nor the name of the person who threw the party, not even the name of the person who invited him. Yuji had just promised good music and good drinks, of which he has gotten none, and he doesn’t think he’s had a conversation the whole night that wasn’t asking boring or asking for his phone number. And he knows that he should probably like this shit, but Megumi has to say, he does miss having good conversations at these things sometimes. He needs a long shower, a podcast, and a glass of something that isn’t alcoholic for a second.

So here he is, fresh after talking pointlessly to a drunk Yuji, murmuring to him that he needed some air, dialing your number and getting ready to suck up his pride and call in a favor. Because you were kind of his lifeline. The only smart person in his contact list. And as much as Megumi didn’t want you hearing him like this, he really had no choice. You, for all your little oddities, were his angel right now. The angel that only picks up after god knows how many rings.