Chapter Text
“Is this appointment not for you?”
Byakua settles himself into the large velvet sofa in Yuuki Fujihara’s office. It’s a nice office. The walls are painted a light brown color and there are many paintings and posters decorating the walls. Something you’d come to expect from the new Ultimate Therapist’s office.
He shakes his head, “No. It’s not. It’s for- uhm- Makoto Naegi? I know he’s come to you before”
Fujihara smiles. It’s a sweet smile. He can tell why she’s the ultimate therapist, “I see. Yes, I have had many sessions with our Ultimate Hope before. How is he doing?”
And what a loaded question that is. Isn’t Makoto’s mental state the only reason he’s even here? The only reason he’s spending one of his few Saturdays off in a therapist's office instead of cuddling with his boyfriend at home.
“He’s not doing great. Uhm-” He looks down at his hands. His fingers are interlocked. He’s nervous. God, he feels nervous. “Something happened to him during the Future Foundation killing game, and he hasn't told me what yet.”
He looks back up at Fujihara’s face and her expression is unreadable. It pisses Byakuya off. She knows what’s wrong. She fucking knows and she won’t tell him, “You know what’s wrong with him” It’s not a question.
She hums, tapping her nails on the side of the couch, “I do. I cannot tell you. Patient confidentiality and all that” She smiles, and Byakuya wants to fucking scream.
He falls silent though. She knows. She knows why Makoto keeps waking up screaming in the middle of the night, why he’ll stare at knives and other dangerous items in their house.
Fujihara interrupts his thoughts by clearing her throat, “It’s true that I cannot tell you. I think it's something he has to be comfortable telling you himself, but I will be nice. He will be okay. You just need to be there for him, what he is going through is something that will only end badly if he is alone. Just make sure he isn’t” She says.
He can do that. God, he hopes he can do that.
Two days later
Byakuya is once again awoken by a blood-curdling scream.
He nearly jumps out of bed when he sees Makoto beside him. His eyes are still closed, but his hands are gripping his neck tightly. He’s choking himself.
“Jesus, Makoto. Cmon-” He gently takes hold of his hands, trying not to think of how cold they are as the grip begins to soften. He breathes finally.
Makoto finally wakes up. His eyes turned to face Byakuya with that same unreadable expression, “Oh. Hey, ‘Kuya”
And Byakuya doesn't know whether to laugh or cry. He is tired. He is so fucking tired of being left in the dark about what's happening with Makoto. Something is so clearly wrong, and it's destroying him that he can’t do anything. That he can’t help his boyfriend at all because the self-sacrificial cunt won’t tell him what the fucking problem is.
“I need to know what the problem is,” He says quietly. He takes Makoto’s hands in his own. They’re still cold, “I don’t know what happened during the killing game. You won’t tell me, and I understand that it isn’t easy” He looked up from where he was holding Makoto’s hands to meet his eyes, “I need to know what the problem is. I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t tell me”
Makoto whimpers slightly, “I-it’s not that I don’t want to tell you. I do- I just- I can’t!” He pulls his hands away using them to cover his eyes, “I want to tell you, but they’d get mad. I don’t deserve that love.”
Well, now that grabs Byakuya’s attention, “Who’s they? Who would get mad?” Was someone threatening Makoto? Was it some spare remnant of despair? Another soldier fighting for despair by attacking the Ultimate Hope? It was unlikely but definitely possible. Said possibilities were running through Byakuya’s mind like wildfire.
Makoto pulls his hands away to look at Byakuya. His lips are trembling, and his eyes are watering. Byakuya is so close to getting an answer. He takes his boyfriend's hands once again, gently running his thumb over the bruised knuckles, “Makoto. I need you to tell me. Whatever it is I can help you! We can fix whatever this thing is… okay? You do trust me right?”
It's manipulative. Byakuya knows that, hell it's an inside joke he has with the other survivors. The easiest way to get something out of Makoto is to pull the trust card. He folds every time. Including now.
“Sayaka will be mad,” He says quietly, almost in a whisper. Almost as if he’s scared the former Ultimate Pop Sensation will hear him as if the former Ultimate isn’t fucking dead.
That was also an answer Byakuya was just not expecting, “Sayaka?” He takes a deep breath. He knew this conversation would be hard but he didn’t expect it to take this sudden turn for the worst, “Makoto. Sayaka is dead, remember? She was killed by Leon.”
“I know that! But I see her, in my dreams. She- she tells me it's my fault, that she’s dead” He grips Byakuya’s hands tighter, but keeps talking, “H-how I should’ve done more to save her, to save everyone,” He turns to look at Byakuya with shaky and watery eyes, “What kind of hope am I if I can’t even save them?”
The admission stunned Byakuya. Of course, it did! What was he supposed to say to that? “It’s not your fault”? It isn’t, but Byakuya isn’t sure Makoto would believe him in this state.
So instead he gently pushes Makoto closer to him, tucking his head under his chin. Makoto clings to him as the tears finally start flowing down his face. Byakuya doesn’t know what he can do at this point. He knows he will go back to Yuuki Fujihara’s office first thing in the morning, but for now, he cards his fingers through Makoto’s disheveled hair. Trying to provide even some semblance of comfort to a situation that he does not understand in the slightest.