Chapter Text
Makoto Naegi isn’t a pushover, not in the slightest, but he is overly optimistic. When someone asks something of him, it’s not that he can’t say no, but rather that he usually doesn’t want to. He’s one of those people who can find the fun in anything that’s asked of him. Always seeking out the silver-lining. So, standing in the grand foyer of Byakuya Togami’s house, he finds himself feeling quite glad he’d chosen to attend.
The walls around him stretch high, high up into a vaulted ceiling, and the rug beneath his feet is the same crimson as his sneakers. The color scheme reminds him of those Victorian Style homes he’d learned about in history. Grays and tans trimmed in red. It’s all stunning, but what really catches his eye is the chandelier hanging above his head. On any ordinary day, one could hear the soft chiming of the iridescent crystals knocking into one another, but Makoto can’t pick it out over the talking.
Ah, yes. The talking. Wrapped up in the luxurious furnishings of Byakuya’s home, Makoto had almost forgotten just why he was here.
It was a party, though the host would cringe to hear that informal word associated with his home. School had ended just the other week, and what better way was there to kick-off the season than with the last get-together for their class? He turns towards the chattering, tearing his eyes away from the chandelier to look at the group gathered at the far end of the foyer. He smiles at them all, starting towards the crowd. His shoe squeaks against the dark hardwood flooring as he steps off the rug and a pair of eyes snap towards him.
“Makoto!”
Aoi Asahina shoulders her way between two taller students, waving her arms in the air enthusiastically. She was one of his best friends, and certainly the most excitable. She skids to a halt in front of him, her smile showing her bright teeth. He’s still smiling, but he wavers in surprise when she takes his arm and leads him, nearly bouncing in excitement, to the center of the crowd. For a moment, he’s worried she’ll do something to put him on the spot, but all she does is hold up a finger to him. He understands the ‘wait-a-moment’ gesture as she disappears into the mass of people. There should only be about 14 others here, but the way they stood, bunched up so tightly, gave the feeling that there were more people than that.
Aoi returns quickly, dragging someone else behind her. Makoto smiles as he recognizes the familiar face, raising his hand to wave one time in greeting. Kyouko Kirigiri smiles back, although her smile is a simple upturn of the corners of her lips, unlike Makoto’s wide grin. Coming to stand beside him, she dusts her skirt off with her hands, despite the fact that her clothing is spotless. Turning her head towards Makoto, she opens her mouth, presumably to say hello- only to be cut short by Aoi.
“I can’t believe grumpy went and threw a party!”
She laughs a jovial sound that rings out among the loud conversations of the other kids around them. It’s put to an end, though, when the calmer girl begins to speak up, continuing what she’d been trying to say a moment ago.
“He didn’t,” Kyouko crosses her arms over her chest matter-of-factly, “His father set this all up. He wants to make a good impression on the headmaster.”
Makoto chuckles, it had seemed pretty unlikely that Byakuya Togami had planned for every single one of the kids in their class to show up at his house. It made sense that his father wanted to get along with Kyouko’s. They were both important people, after all. The owner of the Togami Corporation and the headmaster of the best High school in the region. Even if, by some stretch of the imagination, the heir himself had planned it, he would at least be out here with them all. Makoto had gotten good at picking the blond, six-foot-tall boy out of a crowd over their last year of school, and as of right now, he’s nowhere to be found.
The past year had been a good one. Makoto liked school; the lessons were fine, and so were the teachers, but the best parts were the opportunities to make friends. Byakuya had presented him with a challenge. Though the boy had thrown insult after insult, trying to fend off the optimism and friendliness of the ‘commoner’, it’d ultimately done no good. Makoto was just too kind to let any of the distasteful remarks get to him. He’d wanted to make a friend out of Byakuya, and he had.
“Where is he, anyways?” Asks Aoi, cocking her head quizzically. She touches her chin with her forefinger and her lips turn down as if she’s currently pondering the answer. It wasn’t that hard to decide just where he was. He was as far away from this mess of students as he could possibly get. He’d allowed himself to spend time with Makoto occasionally, but the same could not be said for the other students.
“I can go look for him.” Makoto volunteers, his brain already narrowing down the places he should look. Aoi and Kyouko share a quick look, their eyes glint with mischief that the boy isn’t sure he understands. The quieter of the two nods, a steady hand coming up to grip his shoulder and give him a small push forwards in encouragement. That was Kyouko’s way of telling him to go ahead, and Aoi gives him a thumbs up. They turn away to join the other female students in what he assumes to be a ‘gossip circle’, and Makoto chuckles at them and heads for a hallway just behind the crowd. It’s as good a place to start looking as any.
As he enters the crowd, he’s forced to duck under Leon Kuwata’s arm as the red-head hurls what can only be a baseball at another student. The chaos reminds him of the hallways during school, and the thought that this is Byakuya’s house makes him pity whatever housekeeper will have to pick this up later. He side-steps around another student, almost tripping on their shoes as he finally breaks free of the bodies and into the entryway to the hall.
The art that lines the walls looks more expensive than anything Makoto’s ever owned, a reminder that Byakuya is from a completely different world from him. Rather than let his wealth be a negative point, he does what he does best and finds the silver lining. For him, it’s wonderful that Byakuya is so different. He’d been impossible at first, with a steel exterior that no one could dent, but Makoto had managed to sneak between the cracks. He was proud to say he’d made a friend out of the snide boy.
As he gets further and further away from the foyer, the sounds of his classmates turn into a blended cacophony. At the end of the hall, an archway marks the start of another room, the kitchen. Makoto had been here very few times before today, and it hadn’t been the most fun. Byakuya’s house made him feel like he should be silent, still, and polite. Nothing like one wants to feel when they go to a friend’s. He counts his footsteps as he approaches the kitchen, the dull thuds mingling with the numbers in his mind.
One, two, three…
He can see a mahogany dining table sticking out from the right of the view of the entryway, and to the left, the island that sits in the center of the kitchen.
Four, five, six…
He’s standing almost in the kitchen now, one of his hands rests on the strip of wall that makes up the frame of the entrance, and he places one foot in the room, almost as if he expects something to happen as soon as he enters. He hadn’t expected to get lucky or anything, this was simply where he’d chosen to look first, but standing in the area between the island and the kitchen counter, next to the sink, is Byakuya.
He doesn’t know Makoto has come into the room, as his back is turned. The bit that the smaller boy can see of his face looks drained like he’d rather be resting right now, but all he’s doing is standing there, a glass in one of his pale hands. He shifts his weight, the fabric of his jacket bunching up as he does so. Makoto doesn’t know he’s staring until he missteps and his sneakers squeak on the white tile beneath them.
Byakuya turns around slowly, like any sudden movement will cause something bad to happen, but when he’s fully facing Makoto, his face relaxes. Despite not seeming annoyed by his presence, he deadpans, “Don’t attract them.” Makoto knows he’s talking about the others, of course, as if they were flies, but he supposes that makes him the honey. And he’s alright with that. He laughs, “I doubt they can hear me all the way down here.”
Byakuya wrinkles his nose in distaste and leans back onto the counter the slightest bit. Makoto feels pride in the fact that the high-strung boy can relax so freely in his presence, even though it’s a small victory in the eyes of any of their friends. Well, Makoto’s friends. They were different around one another. Byakuya, a little softer, and Makoto, a little quieter. His classmates would often watch, in mixed awe and puzzlement, as he and Byakuya walked to class together.
“I think Leon is throwing stuff,” Makoto says, hoping that maybe, just maybe, that will be enough to lure Byakuya out of the kitchen and to the foyer with their classmates. If this was their start-to-summer party then he should be there as well. Unfortunately, the heir shrugs it off, taking a sip out of the glass in his hand.
“-My father’s idea,” He sets the glass down on the counter and straightens himself to stand up fully, “He’s simply paying for it.”
Makoto can’t help but chuckle at the nonchalant tone in his voice. “I’m glad he did this. My summers always start off boring.” It was true, the stall at the start of the break was the only part of summer he didn’t enjoy. It was usually as he tried to decide what he wanted to dedicate his newly opened schedule to. A party would surely help him to stay entertained, and it was proving true for the others as well.
The smirk that curls into Byakuya’s lips makes Makoto’s chest feel funny, and he knows that the other boy is thinking something fueled by sarcasm and arrogance. It was common of him to make remarks, but for the past few months, none of them seemed to hold any malice at all. His comments weren’t venomous anymore, just a bit rude. It was just the way he spoke, it seemed. At least to Makoto.
“Aren’t all your summer days boring?”
Ah, there it was. The comment is exactly what Makoto had expected. More of a joke than anything. So he laughs and decides to play along. He strokes his chin and purses his lips as he mocks deep, profound thought. When he turns his gaze upwards, the hanging pendant light shines brilliantly into his eyes, and it illuminates the dark granite counter tops on both the island and the kitchen counters. The kitchen was almost ordinary, if not for the expensive appliances and fixtures.
“Hmm,” He looks away, colors bursting in his vision from looking into the lightbulb, “They used to be boring, but then I met you!” He goes the route of joking flattery, knowing that it’s one of the ways to throw the other off of his guard. And surely, the other coughs into a balled fist as the lightest touch of pink grows high on his cheekbones. Makoto smiles, and moves closer, resting his hands on the cool, flat counter as he leans against the island. Byakuya does the same, letting his hip rest against the edge of the structure as he works the blush off his face.
There’s a moment of comfortable silence before Makoto speaks, “Got any plans for this summer? Maybe with less-“ A sound cuts through the casual atmosphere, and Makoto recognizes it instantly. It’s a scream, but not one of fear or pain, one of simple high school idiocy. They’d never been the best-behaved bunch of kids. Makoto can’t help but to try and contain his laughter, seeing Byakuya’s eyes roll at the noise, “With less screaming?” He finishes, his eyes glinting comically.
Byakuya scoffs, but his face betrays him. His lips are upturned, amused at Makoto’s remark. He turns away, presumably to hide it, and grabs his drink back off of the other counter before returning to the island. He stands closer to Makoto this time, within arms distance. The brunette decides the silence means, “No, I don’t have any plans,” so he hoists himself up onto the island with his arms, getting comfortable so they can chat longer. The taller boy’s smile flicks to a glare at his antics, but he doesn’t tell him to get off, nor does he change his relaxed posture, so Makoto stays in place. His hands lie flat, palms down on the counter behind him so he can lean his weight back.
“You should come to my house,” Makoto muses, kicking his dangling legs out gently like a child, “It’s nothing like your place, but it’s nice. I think.” He looks over at the other boy, trying to gauge his reaction. He’d been to Byakuya’s home, but never the other way around, and this summer could prove to be the perfect opportunity. It would be nice, he thinks, to show the other where he lived. He briefly considers the state of his room and decides he should probably clean up first. Byakuya probably wouldn’t appreciate piles of laundry and messy sheets.
He doesn’t do anything at first, but after a moment he furrows his eyebrows. His glasses slide down his nose a bit at the gesture, and he makes no move to fix them. “Why would I go to your-“ He stops short, and his hand moves up to his face, pausing by his cheekbone. His expression is situated as if what he’s going to say is derogatory, and though Makoto is used to it, Byakuya drops it, opting for, “Your house?” Instead. The little shift in tone seems to make the entire conversation’s mood change. He was being considerate, and even though he’s perfectly capable of it, Makoto hadn’t expected it. He finally presses his glasses back up from the bridge of his nose and he drops his hand back to his side.
Makoto frowns, not sure what the answer to his question is. There’s no reason for Byakuya to consider coming over, except for the fact that it’s something friends do with one another. He laughs, although a bit awkwardly, and scratches the back of his neck. Tuning into the faint chattering in the foyer, he focuses on trying to pick out individual voices for a moment as he thinks. He has to give a reason, Byakuya wouldn’t win this one.
“Because you’re my friend!”
He blurts it suddenly, startling himself as it comes out a bit louder than expected. That was his reason, after all. Friends did those sorts of things, and Makoto wouldn’t be denied. But his accidental shout seems to have had more of an effect on Byakuya than he’d meant it to. The boy had been taking a drink off of his glass when he’d said it, and he’d apparently tried to breathe in and swallow at the same time; he’s coughing now, a fist balled in front of his mouth as his body racks with the effort. Makoto panics, scooting further down the island and hitting the boy sharply between the shoulder blades to aid him.
It takes him a moment, but Byakuya regains his composure, eyeing the glass on the counter like it was the inanimate object’s fault he’d been startled. His cheeks are flushed, and Makoto doesn’t know if it’s from embarrassment or choking, but he takes the hand that still rests on the taller boys back and squeezes his shoulder gently. Byakuya’s face falls back to its usual emotionless expression, and he relaxes again, sighing. He doesn’t seem to have anything to say, nor does he try to shift out from Makoto’s touch, so they stay that way for a moment.
“Am I interrupting something?”
Makoto jumps at the sudden voice, twisting around to look at the entryway behind them. It’s Kyouko, and she stands in the center of the arched entrance with her arms crossed. She’s smirking ever so slightly, her slim eyebrows raised in question. Makoto scratches the back of his neck with his free hand and quickly removes the one that rests on Byakuya’s shoulder. All they’d been doing is standing in the kitchen, so why does he feel like he’s been caught red-handed? Byakuya’s posture tenses as he straightens up fully, turning around to face her.
“Hah, no, Byakuya was-“
Makoto had planned on telling Kyouko the full truth, that the other boy had inhaled his drink and had been coughing, but Byakuya obviously doesn’t feel like that’s necessary information. He interrupts the smaller with a cold tone, but it’s not directed at him, rather, it’s a facade for Kyouko.
“Telling you to get off my countertop.”
He crosses his arms as well. It would seem that now that Kyouko had shown up, Byakuya is done being friendly. At least his own idea of friendly. He stands tall, scowling at the girl through glasses lenses that reflect the glare from the lights up overhead. Makoto rolls with it and hops down off the counter and makes his way over to the girl, leaving the other standing next to the island alone. The boy always got stuck between the two when there was tension like this, but Kyouko pays Byakuya’s glare no mind. It’s typical of her to disregard him, and today isn’t any different.
“Quite a… party you’ve got here.” The smirk drops off her face as she speaks, nodding to Byakuya over Makoto’s head. He hears the other boy scoff but doesn’t turn around to fully face him. Instead, he decides to shift slightly so he’s directed at the dining room. This way he can see both of them. The table in the adjacent area is long, with nearly a dozen chairs. At the end of the room is a large window, trimmed in white. The sun outside is low, it’s late afternoon now, and Makoto almost misses what Byakuya says next as he admires the view.
“You mean a madhouse.” He makes a face, twisting his features in displeasure momentarily. He hadn’t even come to see the others yet, but if he had, he probably would’ve walked right back out. There was a small number of them, but they were boisterous and excitable. Makoto is among them in their feelings, he’s as ready for summer to start as any of them. He smiles at his friends, glad to see the small talk, although disparaging, releasing some of the tension.
Byakuya steps away from the center of the kitchen and towards the other two, his long strides bringing him to stand next to Makoto, facing Kyouko.
“My father thought this was such a wonderful idea. Now he’ll see that not all people my age have my level of maturity.”
The arrogant tone of his voice makes the statement more adamant than it would have been otherwise. The way he upturns his nose makes him look and sound more like the Byakuya Togami he was in front of their schoolmates and his family, and less like the one that had been with Makoto mere moments ago. Kyouko shakes her head, just once, as if she’s trying to stop herself from rolling her eyes, and Makoto decides to break the ice.
“I’m pretty mature, right?” He grins at them, rocking back on the heels of his sneakers as he waits for a response. Both sets of eyes fall on him, and they look him over in an almost critical manner. For a moment, he feels awkward, like they’re both going to have something to say at the end of their analyzing. He feels relieved when Kyouko smiles, her shoulders shifting in a silent chuckle. Byakuya doesn’t smile, but his eyes don’t hold any of the judgings that are painted onto his face. His eyes always gave him away.
No one answers him, and it goes unspoken that no, he’s not the most grown up person they know. He decides that it’s because he knows how to have fun. Those two are just sticks in the mud.
“How long did your father plan this to be?”
Kyouko shifts her gaze from one boy to the other, raising a single eyebrow.
“Until someone destroys something, I suppose.”
Byakuya would only seem more disinterested if he was falling asleep. It truly doesn’t matter to him what the others are up to, and Makoto supposes that’s part of the appeal in his friendship. If he wanted to be around you, he would. He wasn’t the type of person to spend time pretending to care what the others were doing just to save face. It’s only when a particularly loud crash rings out down the hall and into the kitchen that Togami’s expression shifts. That one had been much louder than the others they’d been hearing all this time.
His eyes shut and he brings a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose in silent exasperation. It really had been a terrible idea to bring them all into such a refined home, but Makoto laughs all the same. He turns his head to look at Kyouko, and her lips are stretched back into a smirk.
“Looks like they’ve managed it.”