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It’s been six hours.
He feels nothing.
Should he?
Any normal person would say yes, but Byakuya knows better. Feelings were futile, useless. They were a weakness, and did nothing but leave you vulnerable. An inconvenience, all of them.
Sadness was suffering, as anyone could tell you. It is a disgusting emotion that does nothing but hinder your mind and hold you back. Evidence that someone or something has power over you; controls you.
Happiness is blinding, and forever fleeting. A drug one feels the need to chase, despite how unobtainable it is. To feel happiness is to bear your neck to the wolves. To give someone something they can rip away at any moment.
Anger was at least useful, a force that could drive you above anyone else if used correctly. A fire burning inside you, urging you forward no matter the cost. But it ensures you are alone, eating at you and anyone else you know until nothing but ash remains. It is draining, and painful, and not something one wants to feel all the time; despite its usefulness.
He would not let such pointless aspects such as feelings affect him again, ever. He wouldn’t cry, wouldn’t yell, wouldn’t smile. He wouldn’t love.
He had known this was the right path for practically his whole life. It had been drilled into him for as long as he could remember. Yet somehow, he had… forgotten? Ignored it? Either way, he had let himself feel, get lost in these revolting sensations, and now he was paying the price.
He had allowed himself to feel these things with Makoto, and Makoto alone. He was the only one who was able to break through his otherwise impenetrable walls, to see behind his facade. In return, Byakuya had made the mistake of not only allowing himself to display these emotions to Naegi, but relishing in the warmth that doing so brought.
And brought warmth it had, much of it.
The way that Makoto looked at him with big moss green eyes and a wide goofy grin had left Byakuya speechless over and over again. The brush of fingers and lips electrified him every time, and the pit the other boy left in his stomach was never unpleasant. With Makoto he felt truly cared for. Makoto had loved him for him; not for his money, status, looks, or name. Not for the image of him he had created in his mind like everyone else in the world. He had loved Byakuya, and in return Byakuya had loved him. He had loved the small, hopeful, extraordinary ordinary boy with everything he had.
But look where that had gotten him.
Perhaps, if he had the option to feel such rapture like he had with Naegi again, the pain wouldn’t be so bad. But he couldn’t, Makoto was gone. He would never see him, never touch him, never feel his presence again. All he had was the agony Makoto had left with him.
He was now more certain than ever that blocking out any and all emotion had always been the right option. He would never let himself repeat the mistake of letting them in. It wasn’t worth it. Not without him.
So, sitting alone in his dorm, that is exactly what he did. He pushed everything down, and forced himself not to feel.
Feeling was too much.
It’s been twenty four hours.
Everything has been a blur. He is seeing the world through a veil where nothing is real.
He feels, but he feels empty.
He had gone about his day on autopilot. He assumes at some point he woke up, and made himself some breakfast. Perhaps he shouted at Fukawa, or some of the other idiots he’s trapped with. He doesn’t know. Doesn’t remember. Doesn’t care. Somehow he’s ended up in the library. At least he’s being productive. He’s about half way through a book he doesn’t remember picking up, and he couldn’t tell you a single word he’s read, let alone the plot. He looks at the cover. The title reads “Fallen Starlight.”
“I’ll love you forever, my little starlight.”
He holds back a gasp, his mother’s voice ringing in his ears, clear as day.
“Byakuya!” she calls out to him. “Come out to the balcony with me. Bring your violin.”
“Coming, Mama!” he called back excitedly. He picks up his little violin, and pitter patters to the balcony.
He pulls open the heavy glass door, and smiles a toothy grin at her. At the respectable age of six years old, Byakuya is positive he will never like girls, but he believes his mother is beautiful. She has hair like his own, long and blonde and it flows beautifully. Sometimes she lets him brush it for fun. Her eyes are pretty too, he thinks, and they never look at him with anger like the other adults do. His mother is nice, and gentle, and she is fun. He loves her.
She hears him open the door and turns back, meeting him with a smile that just proves to him that his mama is the best mama out there. He’s certain. She squats, and opens her arms to him and he runs into them eagerly. She picks him up, letting out an exaggerated grunt.
“You’ve grown so big, my angel!” She gives a quick poke to his nose. “Soon I will no longer be able to pick you up.”
He giggles and holds her as tight as his little arms can. “I want to grow up big! I can’t wait until I’m tall like you, Mama.”
She throws her head back and laughs. “Surely, you will be taller than me someday.”
“Really? You think so?”
“Yes, starlight.”
She moves to sit on the balcony chairs, resting Byakuya on her lap. “Would you like to look at the stars with me, my dear?” she asks, and Byakuya thinks she sounds a little sad. Maybe that’s why she wants to play. Playing the violin together always seems to cheer her up. “Yes!” he says, because he does want to look. Mama likes stars too, they can play after they look. Then she’ll be even happier!
He points to the brightest stars, and asks his mother all about how they got there. She tells him fantastical tales of monsters, gods, and heros. Byakuya is fascinated. He loves them. He loves the stars so much, enough to learn a song about them on his violin!
“Can we play now, please?” He asks.
She laughs, and releases him from her lap after kissing his forehead. He rushes over to the table. and picks up her violin. He’ll bring her hers. Walking back slower, he carefully brings it to her. He can’t drop it, he knows she loves her violin. He has to be careful with it.
“Thank you, Byakuya,” she says. She sounds sad again. Why?
He scuttles back to his own violin, and hops up on the seat next to her. He gets in position, and awaits her signal. She nods, and the two of them begin to play.
He struggles to keep pace with her, but she slows for him. His notes are not quite as smooth as hers, but the tune is recognizable! He’s getting better. He hums happily along, the lyrics playing in his head as he moves his bow. Twinkle twinkle little star…
The song ends, and Byakuya stops. His mother continues, though. She continues to play beautifully, adding her own notes or perhaps playing a part of the song he’s never heard. He thinks that it’s the prettiest song in the world. His mama is so good at the violin.
She stops her song, and Byakuya claps for her. “Wonderful, mama!” He beams. But she doesn’t turn to look at him. “Mom?”
He runs to her, and hugs her hip, clinging tightly to her dress. She looks at him, and let’s out a sob. She picks him up, and holds him close as she cries. He hugs her back, worried. “What’s wrong mama?” he asks.
“Oh my little starlight,” she whispers. “I love you so very, very much. Do you know that?”
“Of course I do! I love you too.”
“You are so special, so strong. There is no one in this world that can do what you can.”
“I know that too!”
She laughs, and kisses his cheek with tears in her eyes. “I want you to know how much I love you. Even if you feel alone, you will always have your mama’s love. I’ll love you forever, my little starlight.”
“My little starlight…”
“My son.”
“Byakuya.”
“Byakuya!”
He’s crying now. Where is he? Who are these people? Why are they wearing Father’s uniform? Where are they taking him? Why can’t Mama come? He wants to go back to Mama. He can hear her, she wants to come too.
“My son, please! Please don’t take my baby, he’s all I have. Byakuya, Byakuya! I love you. Please, bring him back! Doesn’t he have enough? Why does he need him? Leave him, just leave him. He’s just a boy.”
Byakuya has not looked at the stars since.
He’s no longer in the library. Where is he going? Why are these memories coming back now? He swallows down the bitter taste in his mouth. That was the night Byakuya learned that when you are a Togami, love doesn’t matter. Being a Togami was what mattered.
He stopped in front of his dorm room. It seemed his body was working entirely on its own. His mind wasn’t doing what he wanted it to either. Did he even have any control over himself anymore?
He fumbled with his key, trying to get in. It took longer than usual, but eventually he stumbled inside. What is happening to him? He is Byakuya Togami, he should be above this. Above grief.
He needed a distraction. The memories weren’t slowing down, they were flooding his mind against his will.
The shower. The shower will ground him.
He quickly strips and gets inside, throwing his expensive suit to the floor without care. He doesn’t even wait for the water to heat. The cold startles him, but it's keeping him in the moment. It doesn’t take long for the heat to begin, and suddenly he’s suffocating on the steam. He can’t breathe.
He can’t breathe .
He’s done it.
He’s the last one standing. He’s beaten them. He’s bloody, he’s injured, he’s exhausted; but he’s victorious. He is the only Togami left.
Two large men approach him. They have the Togami Corporation logo on their suits. He looks at them, dazed and still processing what had just happened.
“Byakuya Togami, you have won. We will be escorting you back to headquarters. There, your father awaits your arrival.”
No congratulations, no good job, not even an atta boy. The last week has been worse than damnation, and that’s all? Could it really be over now? Was that really it?
Images of his siblings falling behind him one by one race through his mind. He sees their agony, their fruitless determination, the fury as they realize they’ve been bested by the child . He sees some of them die. He’s only thirteen years old but he knows he’s seen more tragedy than most people ever will. But he’s done it, he’s proven his worth. He’s proven that he can rise above any challenge, and he has shown his strength.
He stops in front of the door to his father’s office. He’s nervous. Isn’t that funny? He just went through hell, and accepting his victory is what he’s most scared of. He spent every waking moment since he was taken from his mother working to be the best of the best. Now, he is the best of the best, and he’s scared. He worked for this, he sweated for this, he bled for this. It’s all he wants, so why is he petrified?
He pushes open the door and stands patiently, awaiting any sign from his father. His form is perfect. He’s covered in dirt, his clothes are torn, there’s blood under his fingernails, but you would never bother questioning his perfection, even in this state. His very being permeates confidence and power.
He waits for his father to say something.
“Disappointing. I rather hoped Suzuhiko would have been the champion.”
Byakuya doesn’t say anything.
“No matter, it cannot be undone now. You’ll have to do.”
He nods.
“I expect you to give your everything. Just because you are young does not mean you will be treated differently than any other victor. You will be expected to carry out the same responsibilities I carried out when I won, and that your grandfather had when he won before me. The Togami corporation will not deteriorate under your name. Am I understood?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Now go clean yourself up, you look pathetic.”
When did he get out of the shower? When did he get in bed? Why does he keep asking himself these questions when he knows he will not be able to answer?
There’s something eating at him, something in his chest. He doesn’t know what it is, but he feels like he’s going to collapse in on himself. Everything is heavy, but the world around him is floating. His bed feels empty. He reaches a hand over to feel for the familiar warmth, when he knows there will be nothing there.
He is alone.
He prays his sleep will be dreamless.
It’s been forty eight hours.
He’s managed to put on the perfect show. No one notices he’s a shell of himself. They all think it’s just Togami being Togami. Makoto would have known better.
He doesn’t know why he’s thinking about the others. He didn’t care before. He still doesn’t, he reminds himself. Nonetheless, they won’t leave his mind. All of them had been fools. Commoners, stupid enough to play into the mastermind’s despair.
At one point he would have said they deserved it. It was their own choices that led to their demise. The game wasn’t that hard. Survive, and if you must kill, kill correctly.
For some reason, this thought doesn’t bring the same comfort it had brought to him three days ago.
He thinks perhaps maybe they didn’t deserve it after all. Naegi certainly hadn’t.
He’s going soft.
He can’t have that. All he has left is himself, if he loses that, he will have nothing. He can’t let these emotions grasp him again, so he shuts them down. He has to remain the Ultimate Affluent Progeny, and the Ultimate Affluent Progeny does not mourn, he persists. He has to, no matter how badly he wishes he didn’t.
It’s been seventy two hours.
He can’t eat, can’t sleep, can’t think.
As hard as he has tried, he can’t block the memories anymore. They’re killing him.
He closes his eyes tighter, willing his body to just sleep. He just wants to sleep.
It’s no use. When he closes his eyes, the memories become more vivid. He can see the trash compactor pounding down over and over as Makoto gets closer and closer.
BANG!
The usually hopeful boy is shaking with fear, holding his breath as his face turns redder and redder.
BANG!
Even when facing death, Naegi is brave. Despite the terror he is obviously feeling, he holds strong. He faces forward, determined to face death with his dignity. But he can’t hide it, he doesn’t want to die.
BANG!
His face turns purple, Monokuma laughs. Byakuya can’t look.
BANG!
He bolts upright, breathing hard and soaked with sweat. He’s shaking like a leaf, and he once again feels like he can’t breathe.
Sleep was not going to come.
Dazed, and desperate for anything to calm him, he begins to stumble to the kitchen. Coffee will help.
As he walks, the memories continue to flood him. He can still hear the bang of the trash compactor.
BANG!
He wills himself to think of anything else. Anything.
BANG!
The first thing that comes to mind is his laugh. It’s instinct. Makoto made him happy, of course that’s where his mind had gone.
BANG!
Thinking of him was a mistake.
BANG!
He doesn’t want to think about him anymore.
BANG!
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Maybe he can allow himself to remember once more. Then he can move on.
“Good morning, sunshine.”
Byakuya groans.
“C’mon sleepyhead. Time to get up!”
Byakuya opens one eye, and glares at the brunette lying beside him. “What do you mean it’s time to get up? The morning announcement hasn’t even gone off yet,” he complains.
Makoto smiles at him. “Exactly! I have to be back in my room by the time it goes off, but I can’t get out of bed if I don’t get my fill of you beforehand! I expect at least a handful of good morning kisses.”
Byakuya throws a pillow at him.
“Kiss that,” he smirks.
“Byakuya!” Makoto sticks out his bottom lip, fake pouting in an effort to hide his laughter.
Byakuya smiles, and pulls him in close. Makoto nuzzles closer, burying his face in the crook of his neck. Byakuya hums in response, and begins to stroke his hair softly. He can feel the smaller boy’s smile against his neck as he lets out a satisfied breath.
“You’re ridiculous,” Byakuya says, and both of them know he doesn’t mean it. “You sound like a purring cat.”
“I can’t help it! I like this. I like you.”
Byakuya laughs. He doesn’t laugh anywhere else, but here in this room, with Makoto, he is free. “I would hope so, otherwise this would be quite an awkward situation.”
Makoto giggles, and kisses his nose. The action warms Byakuya’s chest. He cups the boy’s face, and gently pulls him into a kiss of his own. It is slow and soft, and nothing has ever felt more comforting. They break away, and Makoto entwines their fingers instead.
“Why did you call me sunshine?” Byakuya asks. He’s been called many things in his life. Asshole, jerk, stuck up, douchebag, prick… never sunshine.
Makoto blushes, and it’s adorable. “Was it weird? I’m still new to… this. I can find something else to call you!”
Byakuya shakes his head. “No, no. It just doesn’t seem fitting. I’ve been compared more to ice than I have the sun.”
“That’s because no one knows what you like I do. You’re absolutely the sun. To me… you are bright, and powerful, and gorgeous. You bring light in this messed up, dark situation. You’re warm, and comforting. My sunshine.” Makoto flashes a goofy grin. “Plus, your hair is golden like the sun. I can’t wait to see how gorgeous it is outside when we get out of here.”
Byakuya feels something strange in his throat. He doesn’t know what to say. Instead, he pulls him into another kiss, hoping it can convey the things he can’t.
The moment that passes between them is perfect. He hopes it will never end.
BANG!
How the hell do those idiots live like this? How do they just allow themselves to feel this torture, this yearning? How was he supposed to just move on from this? It seemed a feat so big, not even a Togami could do it.
His coffee is finished. His hands are shaking as he reaches for the cup, and he forces himself to steady. He’s being ridiculous, he should be above this. Somebody could see him like this, and he would never live it down. Best he returns to his room where no one can bother him, then.
He heads back, a slower pace than before in an effort to avoid stumbling. The crash of the trash compactor is still ringing in his ears, and he feels weak. He doesn’t want to make a fool of himself, but it wouldn’t be hard to do in the state he’s in.
He’s about to round the corner to dorms when he stops dead in his tracks. There are whispers coming from down the hall. He’s been so caught up in his own stupid grief that he almost forgot he was in a killing game. He’s frazzled, sure, but he’ll be damned if he gets taken down in this stupid game. He slows his breathing, and tries to make out what the voices are saying.
“You’re tired, you need food and rest. You were stuck down there for three days, that would be hard on anybody.”
He scowls. The first voice belongs to Kirigiri. To say that her meeting up with someone in the middle of the night is suspicious would be an understatement. Surely, she’s plotting something.
“I’ll be fine! The food you brought me will last me through till morning.”
Byakuya holds back a gasp.
No. It’s impossible. He’d recognize that voice anywhere, but there’s no way that’s what he’s hearing. Naegi is dead. He’s become such a mess that his brain is playing tricks on him.
“Makoto, please listen to me. I know you miss him, but you’re exhausted, you’re filthy, it’s the middle of the night, and we don’t have a plan yet. How are we supposed to break the news to everyone? To Monokuma? He won’t be happy, you being here is dangerous enough as it is.”
Makoto.
“You don’t understand, I need to see him. He needs to know I’m okay.”
His coffee is on the floor and his legs are moving before his mind catches up. He rushes around the corner and screeches to a halt, and suddenly he’s dreaming. He has to be. There’s no other explanation as to why Makoto is standing there, living and breathing in front of him.
He shakes his head. This isn’t fair. Hasn’t he struggled enough? He doesn’t need this cruel trick to make things worse. He already misses him so much that it hurts, no matter how hard he tries to push the hurt away. He doesn’t need this. He squeezes his eyes shut, willing the dream to end, but when he opens his eyes Makoto is still there.
It’s then that he is noticed. Kyoko sees him first. Her eyes widen, and then soften. She lets out a defeated sigh, but there is no malice. In a way, she seems relieved.
“Too late now,” she says, and gestures behind Makoto, where Byakuya is standing, still shocked. The smaller boy turns around, and their eyes meet.
It only takes that shared glance for the weight of the world to fall off of Byakuya’s shoulders.
They’re moving instantly, Naegi running at Togami at full speed. Byakuya braces himself as Makoto launches himself into his open arms. They meet, and the heir scoops him up and holds him tight. He clutches onto the boy for dear life, holding him closer and closer until he worries that he might suffocate him. He buries his face in his neck, holding back sobs as one arm wraps around his waist protectively while the other cradles his head.
Makoto is just as touchy. He clings onto the blonde like a lifeline, wrapping his arms around his neck and clinging to him as he whispers reassurances into Byakuya’s ear. “I’m okay, I’m sorry I scared you, I’m here, it’s okay.”
Nothing needs to be said between them as they pull back from their embrace just enough for their lips to meet. The kiss is both needy and gentle, and it feels like home. Byakuya’s doubts are softened greatly, his mind could never make up a feeling of such bliss.
They break apart, and Byakuya cups his face gently. Makoto nuzzles into the touch, and beams at him with tears in his eyes. He lets out a relieved laugh, and kisses the hand on his cheek.
Byakuya’s head feels fuzzy. He doesn’t understand. How is he here? He had watched him die.
“I don’t…” he croaks, unsure of what to say. He’s painfully aware of Kirigiri watching their every move, and his mind is scrambled enough as it is. Emotions are hard, and they’re even harder in front of an audience. His eyes dart to her for a split second, and Makoto understands. Makoto always understands.
“It’s okay, give me just a moment alright?”
Byakuya nods, still dumbfounded, and gently sets him down. Makoto walks back to the detective, and something passes between them.
“Thank you, Kyoko,” Naegi says. “I owe you everything. I know this isn’t how you wanted this to go but—”
She cuts him off. “You owe me nothing. Go.”
He pulls her into a hug, and she hugs him back.
“Thank you,” he says, and she’s gone in an instant.
He makes his way back to Byakuya and entwines their fingers again. “I want to explain, but I’ve been in a dump for three days. I need a good scrub.”
Byakuya nods. He hates the idea of being separated for even a moment more, but he agrees. He knows Makoto hates using his own shower, so he leads them back to his own room. Once inside, Makoto goes to leave for the bathroom, but he’s stopped. Byakuya can’t let go, not yet. Makoto looks up at him with curious eyes, and Byakuya pulls him into another embrace.
Naegi doesn’t protest. He simply holds him close, and waits. He knows Byakuya needs to reassure himself that he’s not going to disappear.
Eventually the moment came where he could let go. Did he want to? No. Could he? He supposed.
He released him with a soft kiss to the forehead. The shorter boy lets out a whine of protest, but steps away. “I’ll be fast, I promise.”
Byakuya nods reluctantly. He’s still so shocked, he doesn’t say much, but Makoto understands. He’s never known how to express his gratitude for Makoto’s unending patience and acceptance, and today is no different. But Makoto doesn’t need him to express it, he knows how he feels.
He’s true to his word, and he showers quickly. While he’s in, Byakuya slips an extra pair of his own pajamas in the bathroom, and turns down the bed for when he gets out. When he finally emerges, the blonde is waiting for him on the bed. He’s drowning in Byakuya’s clothes and his hair is a wet mess, but he looks more relaxed. He smiles at him, and the sight is so gorgeous, so comforting, that Byakuya thinks he will never see anything better.
Words aren’t exchanged as Makoto makes his way to him. Byakuya greets him by reaching out his arms, and Makoto places himself on his lap. He curls up into a ball, and nuzzles into his chest. It feels so right, Byakuya never wants to let him go. So he doesn’t. He relishes in the feeling that he’s here with him, that he’s back where he belongs.
A few moments of silence pass. Neither of them knows what to say. Makoto is the one to break it.
“I’m sorry,” he whispers.
“What in the world could you possibly be apologizing for?” Byakuya responds.
“For making you worry.”
Byakuya scoffs. “You’re the only person I know who would apologize for escaping death. Monokuma, and whoever is behind him are the ones to blame here, not you.”
“I didn’t kill her,” Makoto says weakly.
“I didn’t think for a moment that you had. I don’t think any of us did, we just went with the option we were trapped with.”
Makoto nods, and turns his head to look at him. “It was awful down there, Kuya.”
Byakuya cups his face, softly stroking his cheek with his thumb. “Where is ‘down there’, precisely?”
“Trash room, in the basement. I thought I was going to be crushed, but I wasn’t and I fell backwards. I fell far, I expected to die that way instead, or at least hurt myself pretty badly. Somehow I didn’t, I guess it’s just my luck. I ended up in the trash room, and it was horrible. It smelled awful, it was wet and disgusting, there was no food or water. I didn’t even know how long I had been there until Kyoko found me. I thought I was going to starve to death.”
“Nonsense. You’d die of dehydration first.”
Makoto smiled. Even in such circumstances, Byakuya was still Byakuya.
“I was scared I’d never see you again,” he says, his voice cracking. “I knew you were up here, grieving and mourning me when you didn’t need to, at least not yet. I was scared of how much I had ruined you. I tried desperately to get out but I…”
He trails off, and his body begins to shake with sobs.
Byakuya had been so caught up in his own grief that he had not even considered the mental toll being ‘executed’ had put on Makoto. Being trapped and forced to slowly face death would have driven anyone mad, and even in these circumstances he had been worried about Byakuya .
His chest tightens. With each passing moment the fact that he is alive becomes more and more real. He’s here, in his arms, caring about Byakuya in even the most dire situation.
Byakuya doesn’t know how to deal with emotions, especially those of other people. He doesn’t know how to comfort himself, let alone Naegi. But at that moment, he acts without thinking. With Makoto still curled on his lap, he gently takes hold of his hand.
He brings it to his lips, and slowly he begins giving soft kisses on each of his fingers. He kisses his palm, then the heel of his hand, then he flips it around and kisses the back. He moves to his wrist, and then up his forearms, placing chaste kisses up his arm as Makoto cries into his chest.
He is basking in Makoto’s presence, treasuring the fact that he is alive. He’s here. He's real. He is here for Byakuya to hold and kiss and cherish forevermore . He has his angel back, and he is never ever losing him again. He’ll burn the world himself before he allows that to happen.
He reaches Makoto’s shoulders, but he doesn’t stop. Makoto’s tears have slowed, and he hiccups softly as Byakuya repeats the same thing on his other arm. The action is tender, a comfort for both of them. They need this moment, this moment to be together.
When he reaches the other’s shoulders again, Makoto has stopped crying. Byakuya leads them both down to the pillows, and they lay together. Makoto reaches up and brushes the hair softly from the blonde's forehead, cradling his face in between strokes. Byakuya feels calm for the first time in days.
“I thought I had lost you,” he laments. “I didn’t know what to do with the pain. I was completely lost without you.”
“Kuya…”
“I’ve lost many people in my life, Makoto. My mother, siblings, classmates… but none of them have hurt me in the way that losing you did. For the first time in my life I felt clueless, powerless. I never want to feel that way again.”
“I don’t plan to make you,” Makoto starts. “But you know, everyone feels that way sometimes. Especially after going through something so… traumatic.”
“I don’t,” Byakuya retorts.
“You should. Feeling these things, sadness, grief, heartbreak… It’s normal. Healthy. These things need to be felt.”
“Why? These feelings are pointless, and painful. I see no reason to allow myself to do such a thing when not only does it hurt, but does me no good.”
“Because, darling,” Makoto explains. “You can’t get rid of these things. If you don’t feel them, they will just grow and grow inside of you until it breaks you. These emotions are proof that what you had before was real, that you had something positive. Something that needs to be mourned. If you don’t miss it, it means it couldn’t have been that good, right?”
He’s never had anyone who was able to explain the appeal behind emotions, and here was Makoto, flipping his world upside down.
“Then what we have must be phenomenal,” he said. “Because losing you was a hurt I’ve never felt before, and never want to repeat.”
“You won’t have to, we’re going to get out of here, together.”