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Naegi was crying again.
Quiet sobs, the kind of sadness like a leaking sink, slow tears dripping down his cheeks. His back hunched over, after all, he was carrying it alone.
Byakuya could’ve left. He should’ve walked away in that moment when he saw the tremble in Naegi’s body language.
But he didn’t. Of course, he didn’t.
Instead, he watched.
The thing about Naegi was that he didn’t want people to worry about him too much but he hid too little.
It was what made him… captivating.
Byakuya didn’t move. He just stood there in the dim hallway, watching the boy in front of him trying to pretend everything was okay while silent tears slipped down his face.
He watched the way Naegi’s throat moved when he swallowed down his sobs. He watched the tremble in his hands.
He didn’t understand it, not fully. It wasn’t about power. He had plenty of it already. It wasn’t about seeing Naegi break. No… it was the opposite.
He enjoyed Naegi's pain because it was real. When Naegi cried, there was nothing fake about him.
The way his face flushed, the way his breathing got heavy, and his voice turned breathless, like a sound you’d make in the dark.
God, it made something tighten in Togami’s chest.
.
.
.
.
“Are you going to just stand there?” Naegi asked, trying to laugh through his tears.
“Or were you here to say something to downgrade me?”
Byakuya blinked back into reality.
He stepped forward instead, pressing a handkerchief into Naegi’s palm.
Naegi blinked down at it. “You… carry one of these?”
“Of course,” Byakuya muttered, annoyed at himself more than anything. “I’m not uncivilized.”
Naegi smiled through his tears.
That was the worst part.
He always smiled through it.
Byakuya forced himself to look away before he did something shameful. Like reach out and wipe them away himself or press his mouth to the corner of Makoto’s trembling lips to taste what sincerity felt like.
He didn’t.
But he wanted to.
And he didn’t know how much longer he could keep pretending he didn’t.
Later, alone in his room, his door locked, lights dimmed low, Byakuya sat at the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, breathing unevenly.
The shine of Naegi’s eyes.
The sound of his breath hitching.
The kind of whimper that came from somewhere deep, helpless, and far too easy to imagine.
His breath hitched. He shifted in place, the heat in him no longer subtle.
“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath. “I’m not… like this…”
Another image flashed behind his eyes:
Naegi gasping under him, eyes glassy, whimpering his name between his hitched breaths.
“Goddamnit!”
No matter how hard he tried not to think about it, he just couldn’t get him off his head.