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Byakuya’s gasp was broken, a quiet sound heard only by him and Celestia, who was smirking just across the tabletop. He brought his hand to his cheek, a red welt already forming there. His slender fingers bent slightly, tips touching the sizzling spot, then clenched into a fist as he regained his composure. He turned his attention back to the brunet boy sitting across from him, the one who had smacked him.
“Take it back,” the other ordered.
Even Mukuro, who usually just sat quietly and sipped her tea, had a sly smirk tugging at her lips.
“You-” his voice sounded too small, too shocked, too weak. “You little-”
Just as he started to raise his voice, over trotted that pig-tailed, loud-mouthed, obnoxious girl.
“Things seem to be heating up over here. How’s the cheek Daddy Long Legs?”
She crouched down and rested her folded arms on the table between the two boys who were sitting across from each other. Her uniform shirt was ridiculously mended, tighter around her bust than it needed to be.
“Hajime seems to have taken offense to Byakuya’s statement about the pancakes,” Celestia chimed in, her chin rested on her folded hands and an innocent glimmer in her eye.
Byakuya glanced at her for no more than a second before he turned his attention back to Hajime, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose with a quick jab.
“And I’d say it again.”
“Then I’ll do it again.”
The tension was thick in the air, all conversations in the restaurant having ceased once the sound of the smack echoed through the building. Even Teruteru behind the stove paused his actions to peer up and through the little cutout window that had tickets dangling around it.
“Over pancakes? Pumpkin spice ones, at that?”
There was venom in his tone, his cheek still stinging slightly. Hajime’s smack hadn’t hurt nearly as much as that one time when Byakuya had called that brute Mondo “the poster child for steroids” and in turn ended up getting sent to the nurse’s office for a bloody nose dealt at the roided up fist of the other. Still, the fact that it had been so unexpected, so humiliating, and so exhilarating is what led him to push the other’s buttons.
“Such unnecessary violence, no wonder you and that Komaeda get along so well.”
Hajime tossed his silverware on the table and stood up, advancing at Byakuya only to get blocked by Junko’s slender arm.
“Not in here boys, take your testosterone-fueled bitch fight outside.”
“Not a problem, get up.”
Hajime’s voice was trembling with adrenaline, it wasn’t often that he was able to let loose on violent urges, definitely not on school grounds. Byakuya thought for a moment, weighing his options. He was slender and he hadn’t been in a proper fight in a while, so he would probably walk away from this the loser. However, there was something about everyone’s eyes on him that drove him to stand and take one more sip of his black coffee before setting the mug down and following Hajime outside. Kazuichi jumped out of his booth and ran outside with Leon right by his side, along with a majority of the customers inside the restaurant. A crowd soon formed around the two boys and Hajime loosened his tie while he scanned the crowd. He and Byakuya were both looking for the same thing, but neither of them found who they were searching for.
A high-pitched voice rang out first. “Kick his flat ass Hinata!”
Mahiru gasped and glanced down at the small blonde girl, who was tipping a crate over to stand on in order to see over the crowd.
Just as Hajime advanced on the other, fists clenched, Byakuya stepped back and bumped into Kyoko. She spoke to him in a low voice while her eyes stayed trained on Hajime, like a trainer talking to their asset in the ring.
“I already called Makoto, since I know you wanna show off.”
He scoffed and stepped away from her, landing right in Hajime’s range as a blow was landed to his stomach. He wheezed as the air was knocked out of him, one arm coming to wrap around his midsection. The crowd erupted in cheers and as Byakuya bent over slightly and watched the ground, he wondered if this was really what the entirety of the school wanted to see: him defeated.
Well, they wouldn’t be seeing that, he thought to himself.
He stood straight again and shoved his friend by his shoulders, sending him stumbling back slightly. Hajime, unbothered, once again came near the other and threw a high punch that would have collided with Byakuya’s face if the blond hadn’t quickly swayed to the side to dodge it. He grasped Hajime’s elbow and twisted his arm behind his back, earning a grunt from the other boy. From the corner of his eye, he watched Celestia roll an old, partially broken, wooden dough roller their way with a sly grin. Hajime quickly grabbed the one handle that was still intact and thrusted it up between his legs in an attempt to scare Byakuya into releasing his arm. His miscalculations proved fatal, and once the roller made contact with his groin rather than his opponent’s, he dropped to his knees.
“What a DIPSHIT!” Hiyoko called out in a whiny tone.
”Worldstar!”
Before Byakuya could properly react to the easy win right in front of him, his arms were suddenly yanked behind his back and he was easily being tugged and jerked around like a rag doll.
“Hajimeeeeeeee, your knight in shining armor is here!”
Of course.
Hajime found his footing again, still limping and resisting the urge to coddle himself.
“I didn’t need your help,” he told Nagito, who was tightening his grip on Byakuya’s arms.
“Are you sure about that?”
“I had it under control.”
“Yeah, it sure looked like that while you were-”
“Please do me the favor of rendering me unconscious right now, I’d really rather not listen to your lovers’ quarrel,” Byakuya interrupted, glasses sliding down the slope of his nose from the exertion.
Within the crowd, Chihiro held his hand over his mouth as he watched the scene before him unfold. Mondo was overjoyed at the current event while his counter, Kiyotaka, had his bushy eyebrows furrowed and arms crossed. He grumbled about what they were doing and how if no one was going to stop it then he should, but alas, Mondo had his larger hand clasped around the other’s forearm.
“Nah, let ‘em fight it out. Togami’s gonna get what’s coming to him.”
Beside them, an unexpected voice rose from the chants.
“Tear his face off Togami!”
Kazuichi, though he shouldn’t be after all of the years he’d known the princess, was the most shocked.
“Miss Sonia, aren’t you closer friends with Hajime?” he asked, perplexed.
“Oh, I am. However, it seems nobody is rooting for Togami, so I will give him my support."
Over within the arena, which the students had created by clearing a circle designated for the fight in the parking lot, Hajime revved up to once again strike his friend. A voice broke through and silenced everyone, somehow having the power to do so despite sounding almost as prepubescent as Hiyoko’s. A shorter boy in red converse and a tattered hoodie rode in on his bike, leaving it to collapse behind him as he practically leapt off of it. He shoved his way through the crowd until he could see Byakuya.
The blond breathed out his name, but only to himself. “Makoto.”
“Let him go!”
Nagito rolled his eyes slightly, only complying when Hajime lowered his fists and nodded to him. Byakuya huffed in annoyance once he was freed, gripping the bottom of his sleeves and tugging them down to amend the wrinkles in the armpits of his suit jacket. Making his way over to where Makoto stood, who had a concerned and slightly irritated expression written on his face, Byakuya dismissed the impending question of “what the hell is going on” with a shake of his head.
“That’s it?” someone shouted.
“We want blood!”
“Show’s over folks!” Nagito shouted, shooing them back into the restaurant.
The crowd grumbled as they made their way back inside, Celestia lingering by just to shoot the two boys a coy and silent smile. Once it was just the two of them outside, Makoto inspected the other’s face for visible marks.
“I never thought I’d see the day when the cool and composed Byakuya Togami was involved in a fistfight-” he looked over at the bold letters above the building, “in a Denny’s parking lot? Since when do you even eat here?”
Byakuya rolled his eyes, refusing to meet Makoto’s gaze as he fixed the collar of his jacket.
“And since when do you hang out with Hajime, not that he’s not a nice guy, he is...mostly.”
“Would you shut up?”
The smaller boy furrowed his eyebrows, staying silent while Byakuya pretended to busy himself with fixing his appearance in order to dodge questions. As he watched the other push his glasses back on after cleaning the lenses, he spoke again.
“Kyoko texted me and told me that you got into a fight. I got here as fast as I could.”
“I can tell,” Byakuya snickered in reply, eyeing Makoto’s untied shoelaces.
“I was worried about you.”
That definitely shut him up.
He shoved his hands in his pockets, making a ‘tch’ sound and looking off to the distance.
“You would be the only one,” he muttered.
Makoto tilted his head, confusion clouding his eyes and sending an odd spark of warmth through Byakuya’s chest.
“Are you talking about everyone rooting against you?”
He didn’t reply. Sure, he’d heard the princess’s words of encouragement for him, but he knew she had only done that because no one else had been hoping to see his victory. Hiyoko was right to say that they had come for blood. They wanted his blood. It would have been too easy to say that they all just hated him because he was rich and accomplished. It was harder to admit that they hated him because he insulted everyone he had the displeasure of knowing at some point in time, so he didn’t.
He flinched away when he felt a soft touch on his hand, looking down at Makoto in bewilderment. The other had reached forward to touch his hand, fingers curled slightly as if he had stalled in his movements multiple times before actually committing to it. That built up courage had been rejected by Byakuya, not intentionally, but the damage had been done in that split second. He watched the boy’s hand return to his side, then finally decided to lift his eyes to meet Makoto’s. He was met with a fraction of a smile.
“I would have rooted for you. Actually, I would have rooted for the fight to not happen at all, but I know you don’t like to listen to me. Kyoko was rooting for you too, even though it probably didn’t seem like it.”
He remembered seeing Celestia aid Hajime in the fight. Though, had he and Celestia ever actually considered each other friends? Or were they just acquaintances made by their shared status of being people that the other students didn’t like?
“I don’t care who was rooting for or against me. It was an idiotic dispute. He got angry with me because I insulted his pancakes. How disappointing.”
They let the silence sit between them for a split second while Byakuya let his eyes drift down to Makoto’s limp hand again, the gears turning in his head.
“I’m not going back in there. I’m going back to campus.”
“I would offer you a ride but…”
Byakuya ended up walking back to campus with Makoto walking his bike right beside him. It was a temperate day, and although Byakuya didn’t necessarily like taking walks, he didn’t mind it too much today.
“Does anything hurt?” Makoto asked, drawing the blond’s attention from the warm sun on his skin.
“No, Hajime isn’t quite as strong as one would think.”
“Maybe he was holding back because you guys are friends.”
“Hmph.”
“It’s possible, Byakuya. You may not let yourself believe it, but people do like you.”
He rolled his eyes at the statement. Makoto, ever the optimist.
“I like you.”
The taller of the two stuttered on his inhale of breath, glancing over at Makoto while trying to mask the look of shock that was probably evident on his face. His cheeks felt warm and it wasn’t because of the sun.
“I’ve never seen you blush before,” the boy noted.
Damn him and his observant nature, Byakuya thought to himself.
“You’re seeing things.”
“Yes, you blushing.”
He shot the other a glare, then returned his eyes to the path in front of him.
“Stop talking.”
“Pink is a nice color on-”
“Shut your mouth.”
“Shut it for me.”
Blue eyes went wide and the heir stuttered in his gait before coming to a full stop, fingers twitching in his pockets. Makoto stood with his hands clenched around the handles of his bike, knuckles white as he waited anxiously for a response. He had known Byakuya since the beginning of the school year when they’d both been assigned to the same class. Byakuya was a hard person to get to know, but with enough trips to the library at night to have a quiet place to study, he’d run into the other and managed to make the small talk last longer and longer. He wondered if Byakuya considered him a friend.
Byakuya Togami was rude and reserved, and if not for his overwhelming confidence that quickly became evident during their class debates, he would be considered shy among regular highschool student standards. But Hope’s Peak was no regular high school. How Makoto managed to develop feelings for the other when most of their interactions included thinly veiled insults with some slight back-and-forth was beyond him. How he managed to develop feelings for the boy who went around casting insults so freely was beyond him.
But were they just insults? Were they not insecurities masked as insults? Were they not a defense mechanism used to create a metaphorical distance between Byakuya and the other students? Were they not precautions to ensure no one got too close to Byakuya for their own sake as well as his own? Were they not something deeper?
Maybe he was reading too far into it and the other really was just a spoiled rich kid who thought he was too good for everyone else.
But the blushing, frustrated mess that was in front of him told him another story.
“You...what? Shut it for…”
Byakuya looked at Makoto in shock, mind going a million miles a minute. Byakuya was always thinking, so Makoto acted without thinking. He let go of his bike to drop on the sidewalk with a loud noise and stood taller on his toes, waiting for the other to close the gap in their height. After a few excruciating seconds, the gap was closed.
They were both stiff and nervous, so the kiss remained rigid for a solid amount of time. When they did part, it was only for a quick second before Byakuya caught Makoto’s lips again and held the back of his head. Slender fingers threaded through his brunet hair, the stray few strands cursed upright by a cowlick swaying in the soft wind. They parted again, satisfied this time, and without a word, Byakuya dropped his hand to his side before starting to walk again.
Makoto picked up his bike, ran to match the other’s stride, and grasped that free hand tightly.
…
“I can’t believe you made me fuck you behind the Denny’s.”
Hajime zipped up his fly, still panting while he looked around frantically.
“Oh come on now Hajime, admit it, the risk is exhilarating.”
“The risk would get us put in jail, Nagito.”
The slender boy rolled his eyes as he too adjusted himself and buckled his belt around his thin waist. His hair, though always sticking out in all sorts of directions, was a chaotic cloud of lavender scent. Though what was unique about his appearance on this particular day was the bags underneath his eyes that had shown up due to how late he’d been up battling Chiaki in the virtual world the previous night.
“I didn’t hold a gun to your head, Hajime. You really know how to make me feel like the trash you just bent me over, as you should.”
Hajime sighed, both in frustration and dejection. “You know I didn’t mean to.”
“I know, silly. I just like busting your balls, just like that rolling pin.”
Nagito let out a wheezing laugh, slapping his knee just to be extra annoying.
“Oh you’re hilarious,” Hajime deadpanned, sitting on a tipped over milk crate just a few feet away.
He couldn’t believe that he hit Byakuya, over pancakes. Well, it wasn’t just the pancakes. It was also because upon their first meeting, the blond mentioned that Hajime looked about as interesting as a wet piece of bread. It was also because Byakuya held an odd sort of discontent for Nagito. If Hajime didn’t know any better, he’d think that the feeling was a crush. He knew better though because it was clear to him and probably anyone else who took the time to study Byakuya’s reactions to the boy that Makoto was the apple of the heir’s eye.
“What were you two fighting about anyway?” Nagito asked as he sat cross-legged in front of Hajime.
He had a soft smile on his face, one that was always there despite his mood. He had a naturally content resting face and anyone in the world would envy him for that. Hajime envied him for that as well as the fact that as much as Nagito joked about other people hating him or being annoyed by him, he was still unapologetically himself.
“He said something that just...pissed me off. He says lots of things that piss me off but this time I just...snapped.”
He looked into the other’s eyes, remembering that exact moment in the restaurant when he stood up from the table and decided that he wanted to set Byakuya straight.
“He mentioned you and just...I didn’t want your name in his mouth.”
It was an odd emotion that struck Nagito’s face, but only for a quick second before he was smiling again.
“Don’t start fights over me, I’m not worth all of that.”
“If you weren’t worth it then I wouldn’t have done it Nagito.”
He shut his mouth and looked away, sighing. Nagito was erratic, infuriating, and self-deprecating, but he was also optimistic, supportive, and encouraging.
“It wasn’t even anything bad, just some snide comment about you liking violence.”
“Violence is interesting, but only when it has purpose.”
Nagito looked at Hajime for a few seconds longer, then moved to sit on his knees between Hajime’s legs. They weren’t at the exact same level, but they were close enough so that he could cup the brunet’s face in his hands and touch the tips of their noses together.
“While I don’t deserve it, thank you for standing up for me.”
Hajime’s eyes softened when they locked on Nagito’s, lips parting slightly as they kissed. It was softer than the kiss they both experienced upon rounding the corner and unzipping each other’s jeans. That kiss was fervent, all nippy and rushed. It was wall-slamming and pent up anger releasing and “fuck me against the dumpster Hajime” pleading. This one was gentler, sweeter, and tender. Nagito tasted like spearmint flavored gum and his hands were colder than one would anticipate them to be.
Hajime was the first to speak when they parted.
“I should apologize to him, shouldn’t I?”
“You can tomorrow at lunch. I sleep better when you’re with me.”