Chapter Text
Makoto was an optimist. He knew that was basically the only thing he had going for him. Sure, he had a little of a lucky streak... But most of the time, he knew he wasn't exactly the most reliable person. Out of the whole group, he didn't really think all that much of himself. He was only here based on luck... and that didn't seem to be going right for him anyway. He certainly wasn't the most capable or the most talented, but that wouldn't stop him from trying his best.
There were many things he could do, and probably more things he couldn’t. Makoto could be a good friend, but sometimes he'd fail to notice when something was wrong. Sometimes he'd make mistakes, errors in judgement, etc. It just hit harder this time because of exactly what he'd screwed up. Three human lives, gone. Poof.
I'm so sorry Sakaya.
He was going to remember till the day he died, keep all the deaths - Sayaka, Junko and Leon - with him forever. That was something he could do, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be difficult.
The second floor had opened up yesterday, so Makoto was exploring the area a little more. He let his mind wander as he walked through the halls, and that ultimately led him to the sinking feeling that weighed his steps down. Sayaka's cold dead body, Junko impaled and drenched in blood, Leon's terrified eyes as he was dragged away to execution. Guilt and misery flooded his senses, the usual curious and innocent glint in his eyes disappearing instantly.
He brought his hands to his face as his thoughts whirred, eyes widening. Sayaka’s death… was his fault. Maybe if he had noticed how strange Sayaka was acting, didn't switch rooms with her, then maybe she wouldn’t have tried to kill Leon. But he wasn't able to stop her, wasn't able to stop Leon, and then Junko…He clutched at his heart, squeezing the fabric over it as he recalled all the spears impaling her.
There were things he couldn't do. Things he couldn't fix or redo.
Before he knew it, a wet feeling slid down his face and he stood alone in the hallway. He felt himself shiver despite the layers of both his hoodie and blazer. Why did Sayaka have to go? Loneliness curled up and settled low in his heart. It was a constant reminder, that if only he…
...Sayaka wouldn't forgive him if he kept this up. A shaky sob left him, despite the warm reminder of how Sayaka would have tried to cheer him up. Little gasps and sobs continued to escape his mouth as sorrow enveloped him.
It was at this time he knew that he should find something to make himself feel better, to find the comfort of someone, anyone. He wiped his eyes only a little before darting them around the hallway, searching blindly.
Anything to not be alone right now.
He hurried into the library, without really thinking about who exactly he'd run into.
That was how Byakuya found himself with an armful of lucky student clinging to him and sobbing his eyes out. It certainly caught him by surprise. He was just trying to look for a new book to read, but suddenly, without warning, arms encircled him and a head dug itself into his chest.
He was worried for a moment that the person currently attached to him would end up stabbing him but as soon as he saw the stupid brown hair, he inwardly sighed. It could only belong to a very naive lucky student, and so his worries eased enough to assess the situation better.
In the back of his mind, he still had a bit of an aching suspicion that Makoto was trying to get close enough to him for murder. However, the boy burying his face in the heir's chest was crying and behaving pathetically vulnerable, rather than preparing to lodge a knife in him.
The arms around his waist clutched at the fabric of his blazer. The silence of the library only disturbed by Makoto’s heavy sobs. Byakuya wondered why he hadn't pushed the other away yet. His face was blank, staring down at the sad brunette.
Why was Makoto sad?
The only person he should have cared about was Junko; because she hadn't planned a murder or committed one. Makoto wasn't even that close to her anyway, so why was he crying? The other two were murderers or attempted murderers, so why should he have any sympathy for either of them? The girl even tried to frame the lucky student.
His arms remained at his sides, neither accepting or rejecting Makoto's call for comfort, tolerating it more than anything else. The fact that Makoto was here with him confused Byakuya more than anything else. Why would Makoto come to him for this? For comfort? Surely literally anyone else would have sufficed?
Makoto was definitely an idiot, but it was also true that he possessed above average reasoning skills and problem-solving ability. He was useful, but he could potentially also be someone Byakuya would have to look out for. If the heir planned on becoming the blackened any time soon, he'd definitely have to deal with the boy somehow. It would likely be quite easy to kill him.
A small part of him felt a pang at that thought, but he ignored it.
The sobs quietened a little and instead heavy breaths escaped lucky student. He was still clutching tightly, very obviously still upset. Byakuya wondered again, why Makoto felt this way.
He found it a little disconcerting, that he could not understand the emotions of one of the most reasonable and at the same time simplest minds in the school. That thought clawed into his mind, urging him to ask the lucky student.
But he didn't say a thing, because even he knew it would be in bad taste right now. And so, he stood there, waiting for Makoto to finish, silently wishing for an opportunity to leave and cease his confusion.
When the boy's crying tapered off, the lucky student raised his head meekly and was somehow surprised to see Byakuya just staring blankly down at him, focused. Did he really not even know who he was hugging? Makoto smiled awkwardly up at him through his tears.
'T-thank you. S-sorry for...uh..yeah'
Byakuya remained quiet, silence speaking volumes as his eyes narrowed. Makoto squeezed around his waist one more time before releasing the blonde, letting him go. He made his way to the library door after wiping his eyes with his sleeve. He reached out to the doorknob.
'If you require this kind of thing again, I... guess I don't mind.'
The words fell out before Byakuya could justify them. As an immediate afterthought, he supposed he could use this as a means of gaining intel on his opponent. This would also provide an easy opportunity to kill the lucky student.
But none of those reasons explained the faint upturn of lips threatening to emerge in his expression as Makoto looked back at him, smiled widely and said another 'thank you' as he left the dusty room. It didn't explain the subtle blush he couldn't stop from painting his cheeks either.
Maybe it was best not to think about it.