Archive of Our Own

Nagi Seishiro had never been the type to go out of his way for social events, nor was he particularly interested in participating in school activities.

It was spring—the time of year when his school held its annual festival. Although Nagi hadn't planned on attending, his friend Kunigami had other ideas. He urged Nagi to at least come and watch, even if he wasn't going to get involved.

Nagi tried to brush him off, uninterested at first. But, as always, Kunigami's persistence wore him down. In the end, Nagi reluctantly agreed—though he told himself it was just to get Kunigami off his back.

Before the festival, he and Kunigami had struck a deal—if Nagi was going to show up, he had to at least watch one event. Kunigami had made that point very clear, and Nagi, too lazy to argue any further, had agreed.

Still, the idea of going to any of the events alone didn't sit well with him. Crowds were tiring, loud, and full of people who might try to talk to him—something he had zero patience for. So, rather than pick an event himself, Nagi decided to trail behind Kunigami, figuring it was easier than making his own plans.

So there he was, walking alongside Kunigami. Kunigami was headed to the auditorium, where one of the most talked-about events of the festival was about to start: the drag show.

Nagi raised an eyebrow as they approached the building. "Seriously?" he muttered, eyeing the crowd gathered outside.

Kunigami just grinned. "Yeah. Chigiri's performing!"

Of course. That explained everything.

Nagi sighed quietly but followed him in any way, finding a seat near the back. The stage lights were dimmed, the crowd murmuring with excitement. Nagi leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, telling himself it didn't really matter what the event was—he'd just sit through it, check the box, and go home.

But as the music started and the first boy stepped onto the stage in heels and dramatic makeup, something about the energy shifted. Even Nagi had to admit—this wasn't what he expected.

There had been four contestants before Chigiri—each one met with loud cheers and more than a few impressed reactions from the crowd. The performances were bold and full of personality, but Nagi remained mostly unmoved, observing with mild interest and half-lidded eyes.

Then Chigiri took the stage.

Even Nagi had to admit—drag suited him way too well. The confidence in Chigiri's movements, the way the spotlight clung to him, the graceful way he played to the crowd—it was all seamless. Strangely captivating. But what caught Nagi's attention even more was the look in Kunigami's eyes. That quiet, awe-struck kind of gaze—the kind people wore when they forgot anyone else was watching. A soft smile tugged at Kunigami's lips, full of pride and something deeper. Something warm.

Nagi blinked and looked away.

Then the lights dimmed again, and the announcer returned to the stage.

"And now, for our final contestant—please welcome Reo Mikage!"

The name pulled at something in Nagi, though he couldn't explain why. He lifted his head out of instinct, eyes flicking toward the stage—and immediately forgot to breathe.
What stepped onto the stage wasn't a girl, though every angle suggested otherwise. Long, styled lavender hair, eyes lined with bold makeup, and a body that moved with elegance, the boy commanded the spotlight. He wore a fitted outfit that shimmered under the lights, heels clicking with each step.

But it wasn't just the makeup or the clothes.

It was him.

Nagi stared, stunned. It wasn't just that he looked beautiful—it was that he looked unreal. Too perfect, too polished, like someone out of a dream Nagi didn't know he'd been having. And somehow, even though the entire room had erupted in noise, it all faded into the background.

Because Nagi couldn't look away.

That wasn't just any boy.

That was, without question, the most beautiful boy he had ever seen.

Nagi didn't understand what was happening to him.

He'd never really thought much about attraction before. It wasn't something that fit into the rhythm of his life—too much effort, too much noise. People talked about crushes and falling in love, but to him, those things always felt distant. Detached. Like the rules of a game he never cared to learn—or maybe he didn’t understand. Girls had confessed to him before but he never felt anything. No spark, no pull. Just awkwardness and the desire to get back to whatever game or nap he'd been pulled from.
So he'd told himself maybe he just wasn't wired that way. That the whole concept of finding someone beautiful was just... overrated.

But now?

Now, he wasn't so sure.

The boy moved across the stage with grace, a confident smirk playing on his lips as if he knew exactly the effect he was having on the room. Nagi's eyes followed every step, every flick of his hair, every curve of expression. It was like watching something not quite human.

And the worst part?

It made his chest feel tight.

Not in a painful way, not exactly. More like... unfamiliar. Like something had shifted inside him, subtle but irreversible. He couldn't name the feeling—didn't know how to—but it rooted itself in his bones.

Is this... what people mean when they say someone's beautiful?

He blinked, dragging his gaze away for a moment, but it didn't help. He rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly aware of how warm the room felt.

Why now, of all times? Why him?

The guy was in drag—lace and heels and glitter and all—and yet Nagi didn't feel confused. If anything, he felt clearer than he ever had before.

It didn't mean anything. Obviously.

He was just dressed up—wearing makeup, fancy clothes, his hair styled. That was all there was to it. Anyone would look good under stage lights with that much effort. It wasn't like Nagi actually thought the guy was beautiful. That would be weird.

He was just... impressed. That was all.

He crossed his arms tighter over his chest, gaze flicking away like it would help shut the thought down. His foot tapped against the floor, the only sign of how unsettled he really felt.

It was the performance. Nothing more.

And yet, every time he looked back at the stage, his eyes found him again—effortlessly, like gravity. And every time, his stomach gave the faintest twist.
It's just because he's dressed up, Nagi told himself. That's all.

Kunigami noticed the shift almost immediately.

The way Nagi straightened in his seat, how his usual slouched posture pulled itself just a little more upright—as if without realizing it. The way his half-lidded eyes, so often dull with boredom, now held a faint spark. His gaze didn't waver, didn't roam, didn't drift in that lazy, inattentive way Kunigami had come to expect from him. No, this time Nagi was focused—anchored—his attention glued not just to the stage, but to the person standing on it.

Reo Mikage.

Kunigami watched Nagi in silence, eyebrows raising slightly as realization began to settle in.

He'd seen Nagi zone out before, even during some of the most exciting things. But this? This was different.

The look in his eyes... it wasn't just interest.

It was curiosity mixed with something else—something Nagi himself didn't seem to recognize. Or maybe he did, and just didn't know what to do with it. Either way, Kunigami noticed everything.

And it made him smile, just a little.

Finally, the show came to an end, the applause fading into scattered conversations and the shuffling of chairs. Nagi rose from his seat alongside Kunigami, movements slow and a little stiff—like his body hadn't quite caught up with his thoughts.

They stepped out of the auditorium, the cool air brushing against their skin as they merged back into the course of the festival. The sounds of music, laughter, and distant announcements returned, but everything felt just a little muted in Nagi's ears.

They wandered aimlessly for a while, Kunigami chatting casually about the performances, though Nagi only half-listened. His responses were vague, his mind still caught somewhere back on that stage—on purple hair and the sound of heels across polished wood.

Eventually, they made their way toward one of the courtyard booths, where Chigiri was already waiting. His long red hair was still styled from the performance, a bit of glitter clinging to the strands, and his makeup—though slightly smudged at the corners—still framed his features. He looked effortlessly at ease, leaning against the booth with a water bottle in hand.

His eyes lit up the moment he spotted them approaching, a small grin pulling at his lips. "Took you long enough," Chigiri said, smirking as he tossed his water bottle from one hand to the other. "I was starting to think you left."

Kunigami chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Nah, we were there the whole time. Back row."

Chigiri raised a brow. "Back row? Wow, how supportive of you."

"I cheered," Kunigami said, a little too defensively. "You didn't hear me?"

As they bantered, Nagi lingered a few steps behind them, eyes trailing over Chigiri's makeup again without really meaning to. He couldn't deny that Chigiri pulled the look off. But it didn't hit the same way.

Not like him.

He shook the thought off with a small sigh, jamming his hands into his pockets and glancing off to the side as if pretending to be bored.

Chigiri caught the motion out of the corner of his eye.

"You good, Nagi?" he asked, tilting his head.

"Yeah. Just tired," Nagi replied, his voice flat as usual.

Kunigami glanced at him, narrowing his eyes just a bit—but said nothing.

For now.

He just gave Nagi a knowing expression.

Just as the conversation was winding down, a voice cut through the noise of the crowd.

"Chigiri!"

All three of them turned.

Reo Mikage approached them. He was still in full costume, his hair styled but messy, his outfit untouched. His heels clicked softly against the pavement as he walked, it looked as if the stage had followed him out into the world.

Nagi felt his stomach twist—just a little.

It's just because he's dressed up, he reminded himself again, more forcefully this time. He's in full costume. That's why.

Reo stopped in front of Chigiri, completely unfazed by the small group gathered. His eyes flicked to Kunigami and Nagi just briefly before settling back on Chigiri.

"Hey," he said smoothly. "I wanted to ask—where did you get your lashes? They held up perfectly on stage. Mine kept slipping by the third act."

Chigiri blinked, then let out a laugh. "Oh—yeah, I'll send you the brand. They're a little expensive but nothing the Mikage's son can’t afford, huh?"

Reo chuckled before he gave a small, appreciative smile. "Figures. Yours looked flawless. Seriously."

And just like that, they were immersed in a conversation about lashes and stage lighting—speaking a language that neither Kunigami nor Nagi could hope to understand. Kunigami tuned out quickly, content to let them have their conversation. But Nagi couldn't stop watching.

Or rather—he couldn't stop not watching.

Every movement Reo made was distracting in a way that bothered him. The way his lips curled slightly when he listened, the way he tilted his head just enough to move his hair, the way his voice lingered longer in Nagi's mind than it should've.

He looked away.

But a few seconds later, his eyes found Reo again.

Damn it.

As he arrived home he sank onto his bed with a tired sigh.

He stared up at the ceiling, the memories of the drag show flickering at the edges of his mind. Reo's lavender hair, the makeup, the way he moved on stage—it all seemed vivid, too vivid.

But Nagi shook his head, forcing the images away.

It was just the makeup. The costume. The whole act, he told himself firmly. That's why he looked good.

There was no deeper meaning to it. No special feeling to understand. Just the illusion of beauty crafted by drag.

Nagi rolled over, pulling the blanket up to his chin. The tightness in his chest faded as he settled into the familiar comfort of his room. Tomorrow, none of it would matter. It was just a performance, nothing more.

He closed his eyes, willing himself to forget.

And for a moment, it worked.

Nagi woke up slowly, his hand rubbing at his tired eyes as he pushed himself upright on the bed. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and stood, moving toward his wardrobe. He picked out a simple outfit and dressed without much thought.

In the bathroom, he brushed his teeth. Soon after, he grabbed his bag, slipped on his headphones, and stepped out the front door, the soft hum of music filling his ears as he began his walk to school.

When he got to school he caught sight of Kunigami and Chigiri approaching from the courtyard. Within moments they were walking straight toward him.

They didn't say anything immediately—just stood beside him. Nagi didn't mind their company; Kunigami and Chigiri weren't the kind of people who overwhelmed him or demanded constant attention. They had a way of reading the room—and him. They knew exactly when to give him space, and when to nudge him into joining whatever plan or event was happening.

As they started chatting quietly, Nagi relaxed slightly. The conversation felt more like background noise than pressure. It wasn't a hassle. Not really. Not with these two.

Sometimes, that was all he needed—friends who understood the balance between presence and absence.

"Morning," Kunigami said, nudging Nagi in the ribs. "You actually made it early today."

Nagi shrugged, pulling his jacket tighter around himself. "Figured I'd try something different."

Chigiri grinned. "What's next? Joining a club?"

"Don't push it," Nagi muttered, but the corner of his mouth twitched upwards.

Kunigami laughed. "We've got lunch plans. Reo's joining us."

Nagi blinked but kept his expression neutral.

Chigiri added, "Reo and I are good friends, I thought I would invite him for once."

Nagi's eyes flicked between them. "Alright."

Without another word, he adjusted his backpack and turned toward his classroom.

"See you guys later," he said quietly, slipping away before the conversation could go any further.

As Nagi walked down the hall toward his classroom, everything around him seemed distant, almost muted beneath the rhythm of his own heartbeat. He kept his gaze fixed ahead, but inside, his mind was anything but calm.

Reo's joining us for lunch, he thought, replaying Chigiri's words over and over. The name echoed in his head.

He told himself it was nothing more than curiosity—an attraction born from makeup and costumes. After all, that's what it was, right? Just the costume.

Nagi clenched his fists inside his pockets. He hated feeling off balance like this, like his thoughts were spiraling somewhere he didn't want to go.

Just focus on class, he reminded himself. Those were things he understood.

Yet even as he forced the thought away, he knew the image of Reo's lavender hair, the subtle smile, the way he moved with grace wasn't going anywhere.

It was sitting quietly in the back of his mind, waiting.

And no matter how much Nagi tried to ignore it, he felt certain it would follow him all day.

The final minutes of class dragged on, his notebook lay open but mostly untouched, his mind tangled in a mess of unfamiliar feelings.

He kept stealing glances toward the window, counting down the seconds until the bell would ring.

Reo's coming to lunch, Nagi reminded himself again, trying to steady the flutter in his chest. It's just lunch.

Still, the idea of sitting across from him, sharing a table instead of watching from afar, made Nagi's stomach twist.

Finally, the bell rang.

Nagi rose, grabbing his bag. As he headed toward the door, a part of him wondered how this lunch would change everything—or if it would change anything at all.

The cafeteria was loud as Nagi pushed through the crowd, eyes scanning for Kunigami and Chigiri.

"Hey, you made it," Kunigami said, waving him over with a grin.

Nagi shrugged, sliding into the empty seat beside Kunigami. His eyes kept flickering toward Reo, who smiled politely but didn't say anything just yet.

The conversation was energetic—light teasing, casual banter, the occasional inside joke between Chigiri and Reo. Kunigami tossed comments back and forth, always keeping the energy up. Everyone seemed comfortable.

 
Except Nagi.

He sat quietly, picking at the food on his tray without really eating. His eyes flicked to Reo every so often—watching the way he spoke with his hands, how his voice had this smooth, easy rhythm. His laugh pulled attention without even trying.

It was... distracting.

Too much, almost.

Every time Reo looked in his direction, even briefly, Nagi felt something twist in his chest. It wasn't panic, exactly—but it was unfamiliar. And unfamiliar meant uncomfortable.
He couldn't handle this kind of closeness—not when he didn't even understand what he was feeling.

Nagi stood up abruptly, tray barely touched.

"I'm gonna head out," he said flatly.

Kunigami glanced up. "You okay?"

"Yeah. Just tired."

Chigiri raised a brow but didn't press. "Alright. See you later?"

Nagi gave a small nod and muttered, "Maybe," before slinging his bag over his shoulder.

He walked away from the table and slipped his headphones back on. Music filled the silence—but it didn't drown out his thoughts.

Why do I feel like this?

He didn't have an answer.

So, he just kept walking.

He eventually made his way up to the rooftop, the cold metal door creaking shut behind him. The moment it clicked closed, the noise of the school faded. Up here, it was quiet.

Isolated.

Safe.

Nagi walked forward a few steps, then stopped. For a second, he just stood there, empty. Then, without really thinking, he took a few steps back until his shoulders met the concrete wall. He slid down slowly.

He didn't think.

He didn't move.

He just stared—at nothing in particular. A small rock caught his eye, and he locked onto it. It was easier than acknowledging anything else.

But the silence didn't last.

The thoughts came, creeping in slowly, then all at once.

He'd thought Reo looked beautiful in drag. That much he could explain, even if it left him uneasy. The makeup, the clothes, the confidence—it was a performance, something heightened. That was fine.

Understandable.

But now?

Now Reo was just... Reo. No makeup. No costume. No stage lights.

And Nagi still found him beautiful.

No—worse, he found him more beautiful.

He stared.

He didn't want to think. He tried not to. But the thoughts pushed in anyway, slow and suffocating.

Reo.

Reo in drag—yes, beautiful, sure. That was easy to excuse. An act. A performance. Anyone could've appreciated that.

But Reo now—without the makeup, without the stage, just a guy in a uniform with messy hair and a soft voice—still beautiful.

Still—

Nagi's stomach twisted.

What the hell is wrong with me?

He buried his face in his hands, teeth clenched tight.

It wasn't just confusion anymore. It was shame.

It was the sick feeling in his gut that told him this was something he wasn't supposed to feel. That he wasn't supposed to look at a guy like that, wasn't supposed to notice things like Reo's smile, or his eyes, or the way his laugh lingered in Nagi's head like a song on repeat.

He felt weird.

Disgusting.

Because no matter how many times he told himself it was just the makeup, just the drag—he knew, deep down, that it wasn't.

Reo wasn't wearing anything special today. He was just existing.

And Nagi still couldn't look away.

He hated himself for that.

He curled in slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, trying to keep the thoughts from piling up, but they kept slipping through.

It wasn't supposed to be a guy.

And yet—it was.

He pressed his palms against his forehead.

It's not supposed to be a guy.

His breath hitched.

Nagi had never thought much about attraction before—never needed to. It was one of those things that existed around him, not in him. People fell in love, crushed on classmates, talked about who was hot and who they'd date like it was second nature. But for him, it was all just... noise.

So when something finally did reach him—when something actually mattered—it should've been simple, right?

Not a guy.

Not Reo.

Not a boy in a drag show with a voice that got stuck in his head.

Nagi's throat felt tight. His chest too.

He wasn't even sure what emotion this was. Shame? Fear? Disgust?

Maybe all of them.

He wasn't supposed to feel this way. Not about Reo. Not about any guy. It made his skin crawl. Not because Reo had done anything wrong—but because Nagi didn't understand what was happening to him. Because the image of Reo—out of drag, just sitting across the table at lunch—still made something twist in his gut. Something that was no longer easy to ignore.

And that made him feel weak.

Maybe if he sat here long enough, it would all pass. Maybe by the end of the day, he'd laugh it off. Maybe tomorrow, this would all feel like a weird dream.

But deep down, Nagi knew.

This wasn't passing.

It wasn't going anywhere.

And that terrified him more than anything.

The rest of the day blurred by in a haze. The thoughts were still there—always just beneath the surface—threatening to break through every time he let his guard slip. But he kept pushing them back, stuffing them into some corner of his mind like they were nothing.

By the time he made it back to his dorm, he felt like he was running on fumes. Everything inside him was too loud. So he did the only thing that ever seemed to help—he shut down.

He climbed into bed without changing, without thinking, and closed his eyes, hoping sleep would dull the edges of whatever this was. Maybe tomorrow, things would make sense. Or at least hurt less.

He drifted in and out, not fully asleep but not quite awake either.

Until—

Knock, knock.

The sound pulled him out of his half-dream. He blinked against the dim light in the room. For a moment, he considered ignoring it.

But the knock came again—gentler this time.

He dragged himself out of bed, feet heavy against the floor, and shuffled to the door.

When he opened it, Kunigami stood there, casual but concerned, hands shoved in his pockets.

"Hey," Kunigami said. "You missed dinner. Just wanted to check on you."

Nagi blinked at him. He hadn't expected anyone to notice—let alone come looking.

"...Oh," he murmured. "Yeah. Just tired."

Kunigami didn't push. He just gave a small nod, the kind that said okay but also I'm still worried.

And for the first time all day, Nagi didn't know how to feel.

"Listen," Kunigami said, voice low but firm. "I know you're usually pretty laid-back—kinda lazy, even. But seriously... What's going on with you? You've been using that whole 'just tired' thing all week, but it doesn't feel like that anymore. It feels like there's something else."

He paused, his tone softening. "I'm not trying to force it out of you. You don't have to say anything if you're not ready. Just... I'm here, okay? If you ever wanna talk."

Nagi stood in the doorway, his expression unreadable—almost blank. But something in his eyes had shifted. Maybe they were a little wider than usual. Maybe his posture wasn't as loose. He couldn't tell.

He opened his mouth slightly, like he was about to speak—like maybe, finally, the words were there.

But nothing came out.

The silence stretched.

Because he did know what was bothering him. He knew exactly what it was. The thoughts hadn't left him alone all day.

But saying them out loud? That felt impossible. Like naming them would make them too real.

Or maybe it wasn't just that.

Maybe he didn't fully understand it himself. Maybe the confusion was part of it—the shapeless thing in his chest that didn't fit neatly into words.

So he just stood there, lips parted, breath caught somewhere between inhale and exhale, his silence heavy.

And in that silence, he hated how vulnerable he felt.

He wanted to tell Kunigami.

More than anyone else, he felt like maybe Kunigami would understand—or at least try to. There was something steady about him, something grounded, like he wouldn't flinch if Nagi said the wrong thing or broke in the middle of a sentence. And for a moment, Nagi felt the words crawling up his throat, desperate to get out.

But the fear held him back.

Not of Kunigami—but of himself.

Because beneath the confusion and the doubt, there was still that bitter, lingering disgust. That voice in his head whispering that something about him was wrong. That if he said it out loud he would give shape to the feelings he barely understood, it would confirm everything he didn't want to be true.

"I—" Nagi started, but his voice cracked halfway through.

He swallowed hard.

"Really. I'm fine," he said at last, the words barely above a whisper.

But Kunigami didn't move. Didn't nod. Didn't look convinced for even a second. His gaze stayed searching—not accusing, just... patient. As if he could see right through the lie, and was giving Nagi space to rewrite it.

And somehow, that made it even harder to breathe.

Nagi stood frozen, the silence between them stretching. Kunigami didn't speak—didn't press—but his quiet presence demanded something. It wasn't aggressive or impatient.

It was just there.

And that silence? It was louder than any question.

Nagi's throat felt tight. The words fought to rise, but all he could manage was a single name:

"...Reo."

Kunigami's brow furrowed, not in confusion, but in quiet realization. His tone was calm when he finally spoke.

"What about Reo, Nagi?"

It wasn't judgmental. It wasn't demanding.

It was just a question.

But Nagi felt like it cracked something open.

Nagi finally cracked, the dam breaking as everything he'd been holding in started to pour out—not loud, not dramatic, just honest.

"He's so beautiful, Kunigami."

His voice trembled. It felt like the words had been buried inside him for so long they barely knew how to come out.

"So beautiful it hurts. Like... actually hurts."

He laughed once under his breath—almost embarrassed.

"At first, I told myself it was just the drag. The makeup, the clothes, the way he carried himself on stage. He was glowing. I thought that was it. That I was just reacting to the performance—like anyone would."

He paused, his shoulders stiffening slightly.

"But it didn't stop there."

He shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on the floor.

"Even after he wiped the makeup off and the outfit was packed away, I kept looking at him. Just him. In a hoodie. Hair a mess. Saying dumb things about cereal brands and kicking his legs under the lunch table ."

His voice softened.

"And I thought... he's even more beautiful like this. When he's not trying. When he's just existing."

He took a shaky breath, and this time, the words came faster, like once he started, he couldn't stop.

"It's the way he talks. His voice—it's got this tone that wraps around you. Confident but never loud. And his laugh—God, it stays in my head for hours. It's annoying how good it sounds."

He gave a humorless chuckle.

"And when he smiles... it's not even the kind of smile that's big or dramatic. It's small. Subtle. Makes me want to be around just long enough to see it again."
He blinked, like he couldn't believe he was saying this out loud.

"I don't even know when it started. Or if there was a 'start.' It just grew. Like a splinter under skin—you don't notice it at first, and then one day it's all you can feel."

He finally looked up, just for a second—his eyes glassy but open in a way they hadn't been all day.

"I keep telling myself it's nothing. That I'll get over it. That it's a phase, something stupid. But it's not. It's real. And I hate how real it feels, because I don't know what to do with it."

His voice faltered, almost breaking.

"I didn't ask to feel this way. I didn't want to. But I do. And I can't switch it off."

He closed his eyes for a moment, like it hurt to keep them open.

"I'm scared, Kunigami. I don't know what this means. I don't know what I am. But I know it's about Reo."

He paused again. And when he spoke this time, his voice was quieter than ever—almost like a confession.

"And I think I like him more than I'm ready to admit."

And that was the truth. All of it.

Frightening.

Real.

"Is it so wrong to feel like this?" Nagi asked, his voice barely above a whisper, eyes fixed on a spot on the floor like he couldn't bear to look a

nywhere else. "About a guy?"

The words hung in the air.

"I keep asking myself that. Over and over. Is there something broken in me? Some wire crossed in the wrong place? I wish it was easier. I wish I could just not feel this way and go back to how things were. Back when everything was quiet in my head."

He paused, his hands fidgeting—tugging at the hem of his sleeve like he needed something to ground him.

"I know it's not supposed to be a big deal. People say it's normal, or whatever. But it doesn't feel normal. It feels like there's something wrong with me. Like my body doesn't match what I'm feeling, like I'm not supposed to want this. And I do. And that makes me feel..."

He struggled for the word, the right shape for the weight inside him.

"Disgusting."

He looked down at himself, like he didn't recognize what he was seeing.

"I feel gross in my own body—like it's betraying me for feeling the way it does. And I hate it. I hate that I can't control it. That I keep thinking about him. That the thought of Reo, just being Reo, makes something twist in my stomach and I don't know if it's want or fear or both."

Another breath—shaky this time.

"I'm scared, Kunigami. Of my own mind. Of what it's saying about me. Of what it might mean tomorrow, or next week, or a year from now. What if I look back and I don't recognize who I was anymore? What if this feeling never goes away?"

He finally looked up, eyes glassy, voice cracked open at the edges.

"I don't even know what I'm asking for. I just... I don't want to feel like a monster for this."

And for a second, he went completely still.

Kunigami stood still for a long moment, Nagi's words echoing in the quiet dorm room. He took it all in—every tremble in Nagi's voice, every word heavy with shame and confusion, every small, helpless movement that said he was barely holding himself together.

He opened his mouth, then closed it again.

There was so much he wanted to say, and none of it felt like enough.

"Nagi..."

His voice was softer than usual, almost hesitant. Not because he didn't know what he believed, but because he didn't want to say the wrong thing and make things worse.

"I'm really sorry you've been carrying this by yourself."

His brows drawn in—not in judgment, but in quiet hurt. Not for himself, but for his friend.

"You should never have felt like you had to. Not around me."

He exhaled slowly, grounding himself.

"You're not weird for finding a man attractive," he said finally, voice firm now. "You're not broken. You're not disgusting. And you're definitely not a monster."

He paused, trying to make sure every word landed exactly where it needed to.

"You like who you like. It's not wrong. It's not shameful. And yeah... it's scary when it's something you didn't expect. I get that. When the picture in your head doesn't match how you're actually feeling, it messes with you. It makes you question everything."

He took a moment to think.

"But liking Reo... that doesn't make you less of who you are. It doesn't change the fact that you're still you. Same guy who gets lost in his own world during lunch. Same guy who plays games like it's breathing. Same guy who barely talks but always notices everything."

Kunigami's voice softened again.

"None of that goes away because of who you're drawn to. It just means you're human."

He sat back slightly, not crowding Nagi, but staying close.

"I know it feels confusing right now. Like your brain's running a million thoughts a second and none of them are clear. And I know shame's got sharp teeth—it tells you that you shouldn't feel what you feel. But Nagi..."

He looked at him, eyes sincere, steady.

"There's nothing wrong with loving beauty when you see it. Even if it's not the version of beauty you expected to fall for. You saw something real in Reo. That means you felt something. And that's not something to be ashamed of. That's brave."

Then, he said, more gently:

"You don't have to figure it all out right now. You don't have to label anything. Just... don't fight yourself so hard. Let yourself feel what you feel."

Kunigami placed a hand lightly on Nagi's shoulder, not forcing comfort—just offering it.

"I've got you, man. Whatever this is, whatever it becomes—you're not alone in it."

And in the quiet that followed, the weight between them didn't vanish.

But it felt, for the first time, like Nagi wasn't carrying it alone.

Kunigami let his hand rest on Nagi's shoulder for a moment longer before pulling it back, giving him space again. The tension in the room had settled, but the air still felt delicate.

He didn't want to push too hard. But he also didn't want Nagi to stay stuck in his head, spiraling alone again.

So he tried a different approach—gentle, but steady.

"...Hey," he said after a beat. "You don't have to talk more about it if you're not ready. But maybe you shouldn't be by yourself so much, either."

He offered a small, knowing smile.

"How about we hang out this weekend? You, me, Chigiri... and Reo too."

He watched Nagi's expression carefully, making sure he wasn't crossing a line.

"Nothing serious. No pressure. We could go into town or something—get food, be idiots. Just... be around people who care about you. Who already do, whether you say anything or not."

There was something easy in his voice, but still sincere.

"You don't have to hide from him, you know. Or from us. Especially not from Chigiri—he's sharp as hell, and Reo's nice. He'd probably just be happy to know you're thinking about him."

Kunigami gave a light shrug, trying not to overstate it.

"Sometimes just being around the people who matter helps more than anything else. No expectations. Just... space to breathe."

He paused, then added quietly:

"And if it ever gets too much, I've got your back. Every time."

It wasn't a solution.

But it was something real.

And maybe, for Nagi, that was enough to take the next step.

So Nagi started spending more time with them.

At lunch, he didn't just sit in silence anymore. He listened. Responded. Sometimes, Nagi even laughed.

And it wasn't just during lunch.

After school, they started hanging out more. Kunigami, Chigiri, and Reo would drag Nagi to play soccer with them—half as a joke, half as a test.

And, to their surprise, Nagi was phenomenal.

Like his body already knew what to do before his brain caught up. Reo looked at him differently after that—like he'd uncovered something hidden.

They grew closer, all four of them.

The thoughts, though... they didn't go away.

Nagi still found himself lying awake some nights, staring at the ceiling, wondering why this scared him so much. Wondering what it meant to like a boy. To like Reo.

But whenever it got too heavy, he talked to Kunigami. Told him the things he was thinking. Kunigami never judged. Just listened, like a wall Nagi could lean on.

Everything always felt less terrifying after that.

Except for one thing.

The one thing he never said out loud.

It wasn't just that Reo was beautiful. It wasn't just his eyes or the way his laugh stuck in Nagi’s head. Nagi admired him. The way he thought so carefully before he spoke. How he considered people—really considered them—like they were puzzles he wanted to understand, not just solve.

He noticed the little things, too.

How Reo always stood between people when tension rose. How his voice shifted when he talked about soccer. How his hands moved when he explained something complicated, like they were trying to help his words land better.

Reo was... warm. Loud in ways Nagi couldn't be, but never in a way that overwhelmed. He filled space with light, but didn't make Nagi feel small in it.

And lately, Nagi found himself watching more closely.

He noticed how Reo's smile lingered a bit longer when he was looking at Kunigami or Chigiri—friendly, but different. He saw how Reo's fingers always twitched near his temple when he was deep in thought. How he hummed quietly to himself when he was in a good mood.

These were small things, but they stayed with Nagi.

And somewhere along the line, he stopped pretending it was just admiration.

He liked Reo.

Liked him in that gut-deep, heart-slowing, nerve-sparking kind of way.

And even if he wasn't ready to say it out loud—not even to Kunigami—it sat there in him now.

A truth he carried in the quiet.

Just for now.

"Yo. Earth to Nagi."

Chigiri waved a hand in front of his face, brow raised.

Nagi blinked, slowly coming back to the present. He realized he'd been staring—eyes unfocused, face tilted tow

ard the window. A small smile had crept onto his face without him noticing.

"You good?" Kunigami asked, "You've been zoning out for, like, five minutes. Looked like you were thinking real hard. Kinda scary."

Reo laughed, nudging Nagi with his shoulder. "That's gotta be a first."

The warmth in Reo's voice pulled Nagi's focus back in fully. He glanced over and met Reo's eyes for just a second too long before looking away, pretending to reach for his drink.

"I'm fine," Nagi mumbled.

But the way his voice was a little softer than usual didn't go unnoticed.

Chigiri leaned forward on his elbows, suspicious. "You were smiling," he said. "Like... genuinely smiling. Not your usual 'I'm winning at a game' smirk. What were you thinking about?"

Nagi shrugged, "Dunno. Just... nice day."

Kunigami snorted. "That's the most suspicious answer I've ever heard."

Nagi didn't respond. Just sipped his drink, eyes half-lidded, posture relaxed—but not entirely at ease.

Because the truth was, he had been thinking. About the way Reo's presence made the world feel a little less dull.

He had been smiling about that.

But he wasn't ready to say it.

So instead, he leaned his head back against the wall behind him, closing his eyes.

"Just felt peaceful for once," he muttered.

Reo tilted his head, something softer passing across his face. "Good," he said quietly. "You should feel that more."

The others moved on after that—but Reo's eyes lingered on Nagi for a moment longer.

And Nagi felt it.

That subtle shift in the air.

He didn't open his eyes again, but his lips twitched—another small smile, this one just for himself.

They kept hanging out.

Cafés with too-sweet drinks and chipped mugs. Arcades with cheap toys that broke before they even got home. Ice cream runs that left them all with sticky fingers. Soccer games in the park—though Nagi usually sat out, sprawled on the grass with his phone.

And every Friday, without fail, they'd go to the beach to watch the sunset.

That evening was no different.

Reo and Chigiri were off to the side, laughing about the next drag show coming up. Kunigami was halfway through unwrapping his snack when Nagi spoke up, voice soft enough to be almost lost under the sound of the waves.

"Kunigami... Can we go for a walk?"

Kunigami looked at him, then nodded once. He dusted the sand off his hands and followed Nagi down the shoreline.

They walked in silence at first. The ocean stretching out like a dark mirror. Every few steps, Nagi would glance down at his own footprints, as if thinking through the words he wanted to say.

When they were finally far enough away—out of earshot of the others—Nagi stopped walking.

"I really like Reo," Nagi said, voice soft, like the words were fragile in his mouth.

He didn't look at Kunigami when he said it. Just kept his eyes fixed on the waves.

"I want to spend more time with him. Not just around him—with him."

He shifted on his feet.

"I want to hear him talk about dumb stuff for hours. Even if I don't say anything. I want to sit next to him while he's doing homework and pretend I'm helping. I want to play co-op games with him until it's late and we're both too tired to keep our eyes open."

His voice got even quieter, more raw.

"I want to hear him laugh and know I'm the reason. I want to be the first person he texts when something good happens. Or bad. I want him to fall asleep next to me on the couch during a movie we're not even watching. I want to cook something awful and have him pretend it's fine."

Nagi laughed a little at that, but it faded quickly.

"I want all the normal stuff, you know? All the soft, everyday things people do when they care about each other."

He hesitated, the words starting to slow.

"hell—" a small, humorless laugh escaped "—I even want to play soccer with him, Kunigami. And I hate running."

His hands curled into the hem of his hoodie, fingers tightening as if trying to ground himself.

"I want it so much it hurts," he murmured. "But I can't stop thinking... would he even like someone like me? I'm such a hassle to be around. I'm not... exactly welcoming. Not like him. Not like Chigiri. I'm..."

He trailed off, exhaling a shaky breath, eyes still fixed on the water.

"...I'm just me."

The wind tugged at his hair, carrying the confession out into the waves.

Chigiri and Reo's conversation about the drag show drifted off. Between them, silence settled — not uncomfortable, but heavy, like the quiet before a truth.

Reo was the one to break it.

"Nagi's... fun to hang out with," he said, his voice softer than before.

Chigiri snorted, tilting his head toward him. "Nagi? Really? He's the laziest one out of all of us. I love him, but he's so boring sometimes."

Reo didn't answer right away. His eyes stayed on the horizon, where the sun was sliding lower. He thought carefully before he spoke, as he always did.

"I don't think that's true," he said finally. "I mean... it might look like he's not listening. It might seem like he's too lazy to do anything. Like he's just kind of... there."

He glanced down at the sand between his feet, then back out at the ocean.

"But that's not Nagi. Not really. He's an amazing listener. He notices things most people miss. He remembers little details even I forget. And he's not lazy... not exactly. I think he just hasn't found the things he wants to care about yet. Or maybe he keeps them close so nobody can touch them."

Reo's voice softened even more, a warmth creeping in.

"And when he's around..." He hesitated, a small smile ghosting over his face. "It feels... nice. His presence. Like—quiet, but warm. He doesn't need to talk a lot. Just having him there changes the space. Makes it feel..." He trailed off, searching for the word. "Safe."

Chigiri raised an eyebrow at him, then let out a laugh. "You know, the way you're talking about him? You sound like you're in love with him."

Reo's eyes flicked to Chigiri, then back to the sky, which was deepening now.

"Maybe I am," he said quietly.

It wasn't a joke.

And for a moment, neither of them spoke again. The only sound was the ocean, the hush of the tide rolling in and out, carrying Reo's admission out into the open air.

It had been almost a year since Nagi first saw Reo in drag.

Since that night, the days had slipped by—slow at times, fast at others—blurring into weeks, then months. But even as everything else shifted around him—new classes, new routines—that memory stayed sharp.

Now, the festival was rolling around again, flyers were taped to every wall, booths being planned, rehearsals echoing through the halls.

And, just like last year, Kunigami leaned over during lunch and said, "C'mon, Nagi. You've gotta watch at least one event. That's the deal."

But this time, Nagi didn't complain. Didn't sigh or say it sounded like a hassle.

He just nodded once, calm and certain.

"I already know which one I'm watching."

Kunigami blinked, surprised, but didn't push.

Because this year, Nagi didn't need convincing.

He already knew where he'd be—front row, eyes open, heart quiet but full—as Reo stepped onto that stage again.

And this time, he wouldn't be caught off guard.

This time, he was ready to see him.

Finally, the day of the festival arrived.

The campus was full of sound and color—students in costume, booths already loud with music, the scent of food trailing through the air. But Nagi barely noticed any of it. His focus was singular.

He met up with Kunigami by the main courtyard, and together they walked toward the auditorium where the drag show would be held. This time, they were early.

They slipped into seats near the front row, the stage only a few feet away.

As they sat down, Kunigami leaned over slightly.

"You know," he said, "the first time we came here... I watched you instead of the stage."

Nagi glanced at him, brows faintly raised.

Kunigami smiled, eyes on the dimming lights.

"I saw the way your posture straightened when Reo walked out. The way your eyes widened—like something just clicked in you. I knew, right then, he meant something to you. Even if you didn't know it yet."

Nagi didn't respond with words. He just hummed—not denying it.

He didn't need to.

The lights above dimmed. A spotlight bloomed onstage, and the emcee walked out, launching into a short welcome speech.

Nagi sat forward slightly, elbows on his knees, fingers laced together in front of his mouth. He tried to look casual. He didn't feel it.

Then, the show began.

One contestant after another took the stage—bright costumes, bold music, confident performances. The crowd cheered, clapped, laughed. Kunigami joined in here and there.
But Nagi?

He barely reacted.

He shifted in his seat. His gaze flicked to the side of the stage more times than he could count. His fingers tugged at the fabric of his sleeve.

He wasn't trying to be rude. He just... didn't care.

Not about them.

He was waiting for him.

And the longer it took, the tighter his chest felt.

He just wanted to see him.

Then Chigiri took the stage.

The crowd erupted in cheers—he was clearly a fan favorite. Nagi watched, more engaged than he had been for the other contestants. He respected Chigiri—his control, his style. But even as he followed the performance, his thoughts were already drifting ahead.

Reo's next.

Just like last year.

The thought settled into his chest like a steady thrum. And this time, Nagi didn't feel unprepared. He wasn't confused or overwhelmed. He knew what he was waiting for.

Still, he caught himself wondering—what would Reo look like this year? What colors would he choose? Would it be bold or something softer?

Then—

It happened.

The lights shifted. The music changed. And Reo stepped into view.

Nagi's breath caught.

His eyes widened instinctively, locked in place.

He was radiant—this time in a deep velvet purple, sharp and soft all at once. His makeup was bolder, more defined than last year, and yet still distinctly him—not hiding his features, but highlighting them.

His hair was swept back, a few loose strands framing his face.

Nagi felt something flutter in his chest, something warm and unfamiliar and so full it almost hurt.

But it wasn't just how Reo looked.

It was the way he carried himself. The way his eyes scanned the crowd and lingered like he was searching for something—or someone. The way he smiled.

"He's beautiful..." Nagi whispered. He didn't even realize he'd said it aloud.

Kunigami glanced at him from the side but said nothing. Just smiled faintly and looked back toward the stage.

Nagi didn't move. Didn't blink.

The world could burn down right now and I wouldn't look away.

He noticed everything. The way Reo's earrings caught the light when he turned his head. The shimmer dusted across his collarbones. The soft curve of his lips.

He watched him like someone who had found the center of the universe and realized it had a name.

Reo.

His Reo, if only in a wish.

When Reo stepped off the stage, Nagi felt like something sacred had been taken from him.

The lights hadn't even come back on before a strange hollowness settled in his chest—like he'd just watched a dream walk out of reach. The emcee returned to the mic, thanking the audience, the applause slowly fading under the scrape of chairs and scattered conversations.

Just like last year.

But this time, Nagi didn't stay seated.

He was already on his feet, moving before he fully registered it. The urge pulled at him—go. He barely noticed Kunigami calling after him. Nothing mattered. Not now.

He needed to find Reo.

He pushed through clusters of students in the hallway, scanning every face.

Then—finally—he saw it.

Lavender hair, soft and unmistakable. That outfit—deep velvet—that still left Nagi breathless. Reo's back was turned.

Nagi didn't slow down.

Reo must have sensed him, because he turned—eyes widening slightly when he saw him. He took a few steps forward.

"Nagi—" he began, his voice surprised, maybe a little breathless.

But he didn't get to finish.

Nagi closed the distance in a heartbeat, and before either of them could think—he kissed him.

Hands gentle but certain, cupping Reo's face like he was afraid he might disappear. Nagi's lips met his—soft, unpracticed, but full of something real.

Reo froze for the briefest moment, eyes wide in shock. But then—

He melted into it.

His hands found Nagi's hair. The noise of the festival fell away. There was no audience now. No stage.

Just the two of them—wrapped in a moment neither of them could have imagined a year ago.

When they finally pulled apart, just barely, Reo didn't say anything right away.

Nagi's voice came low, rough around the edges, but certain:

"I had to find you."

Reo smiled.

"You found me," he whispered. "Took you long enough."

They stood in a quiet corner of the festival grounds, just far enough away from the crowds, the music, the noise. Just far enough for the moment to feel like it belonged to them alone.

Nagi reached out, his fingers brushing against Reo's hands before gently wrapping around them, holding on like he wasn't sure he'd get the chance again.

He looked down at their hands as he spoke, voice low but sure, like he had been carrying these words for far too long.

"...I like you, Reo."

He swallowed.

"I've liked you for a long time. Since the first time I saw you last year—in drag, on that stage. You looked like you didn't belong to this world. Like you were something bigger than all of this—louder than the music, brighter than the lights."

Nagi looked up, eyes soft but intense.

"I couldn't stop watching you. I couldn't stop thinking about you. Every time I closed my eyes, you were just... there. Like some part of me woke up the second I saw you, and I didn't know what to do with that."

His fingers squeezed gently around Reo's.

"And when you started joining us for lunch... I thought it would get easier. That maybe if I saw you more, you'd feel normal. But you didn't. You were just more. More real, more beautiful, more alive than anything else in my life."

He paused, cheeks flushing slightly, but kept going.

"I used to avoid sitting too close to you. I'd keep my eyes on my food or pretend I was busy playing games. But the truth is I couldn't even look at you for long without feeling like my chest was going to cave in."

Nagi took a breath, searching for the right words.

"You made me feel things I didn't know how to deal with. And I hated it at first. Not because of you, but because I didn't understand it. I didn't know it was okay to feel that way. I was scared. I was ashamed."

His voice trembled—just for a second.

"But then... we kept hanging out. You kept showing up. And every time you did, I saw more of who you are. Not just the way you smile, or how your eyes light up when you talk about soccer, or how you always fix your hair when you think no one's watching. But the little things. The way you remember people's favorite drinks. How you notice when someone's quieter than usual. How you never make anyone feel like they don't belong."

He looked back up at Reo now, completely focused.

"And the way you saw me."

His voice lowered, like he was afraid it might break.

"I don't think anyone's ever really done that before. I'm... I'm quiet. Detached. Lazy. People don't stick around. But you didn't try to change me. You didn't ask me to be louder or more interesting or normal. You just... accepted me. Like I was enough just being me."

A breath.

"I didn't fall for you just because you're beautiful, Reo. Though you are. You're... devastatingly beautiful. But it's more than that."

He stepped in just a little closer now.

"I fell for how kind you are. How thoughtful. How you care so deeply about the people around you, even when you're hurting. How you chase what you love with your whole heart."

He hesitated—then said it plainly.

"I fell in love with your heart, Reo."

Silence stretched for a moment, and when Nagi spoke again, his voice was softer. Almost pleading.

"So please... Please let me be yours."

He blinked slowly, eyes glimmering.

"Let me wake up and be excited to see your name on my phone. Let me walk to school knowing you'll be there. Let me sit next to you and not feel like I have to hide how I feel anymore."

His voice broke at the edges, but he pushed on.

"Let me hold your hand without wondering if I'm allowed. Let me play dumb games with you and lose on purpose just to see you smile. Let me fall asleep beside you on the couch. Let me love you on the quiet days. On the hard days. On the days when you're not on stage, when you're tired, when you don't want to be anything but Reo."

He looked at him, bare, unguarded.

"Let me love you, Reo. Just... let me love you."

Reo stood frozen, heart thundering in his chest. He could feel the heat rising in his cheeks — his face was burning, and he knew it.

How could it not be?

Nagi had just poured his heart out, piece by piece, with a softness and honesty that cracked something open inside Reo.

He opened his mouth, tried to speak, but nothing came out at first.

"Nagi..." he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper.

He stared at the boy in front of him — the boy who had once been too quiet, too detached, who always seemed just a little too far away from everything. And now, here he was, standing closer than anyone ever.

Reo felt it down to his bones.

His throat tightened.

He'd been confessed to before — plenty of times. Pretty girls with practiced smiles, charming words, soft hands. But it was always the same. A flat, predictable "I like you," followed by expectations. Attention that felt transactional. Affection that felt like it came with a price tag.

But this...

This was different.

Nagi's voice had cracked. He'd paused mid-sentence, searching for the right words. He hadn't just said he liked Reo — he'd shown it. In every glance, in every word, in the way he held his hands like he was afraid to break something precious.

It made Reo feel seen. Not for what he had — but for who he was.

He swallowed hard, blinking against the sudden sting in his eyes.

And then, at last, he managed to speak.

"Yes."

It came out almost too fast, but it was real.

Then, after a pause, the rest of the words finally caught up to him.

"Yes, Nagi. Please."

His voice was shaking now — not with fear, but with something overflowing.

Gratitude.

"Thank you... for looking at me like that. For really seeing me. Not my clothes, not my name, not my family or money—just... me."

His voice softened.

"Thank you for choosing me, not for what I can give you, but just for being who I am."

Reo took a step closer now, his hands still wrapped in Nagi's.

"And thank you... for being you. For being quiet and thoughtful and strange in the best way. For paying attention when no one else does. For being patient enough to figure yourself out, and brave enough to tell me how you feel."

His thumbs gently traced over Nagi's knuckles.

"I've wanted this for a long time. I didn't think I'd get to have it. I thought maybe I was just something nice to look at for people, something temporary. But you—"
He smiled now.

"You made me feel permanent. Like I could just be Reo. No costume. No show. Just me. And that would be enough for you."

Another breath.

"I want to be yours, too."

Reo leaned in once more, his lips hovering over Nagi’s before closing the distance. It was more passionate this time—more practiced.

And then Reo stepped back, his words soft:

"Let's fall in love. For real this time."