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Byakuya was awoken by an incessant pounding on his door. The one night he decided to stay inside and not leave to the library. What a mistake that was. He just laid there staring at the ceiling for a moment, trying to see if they'd go away. The knocking stopped, but the soft sobs outside didn't.
His (while miniscule) conscience got the better of him, and he grabbed his glasses off the nightstand. He got up, and walked to the door. Upon opening it, he watched Makoto Naegi, mid-retreat, practically jump out of his skin. He blinked.
"...Naegi." he said after a moment, "What on Earth are you doing here this late?"
Makoto didn't turn around. He hunched over himself, wiping his eyes on his sleeve.
"I don't- I- I know it's late," he mumbled, his voice wobbly and thick. "I- I'm sorry. I'm going."
"I didn't say to go. Clearly, if you're here, it's something important. You know better than to wake me for nothing, of course."
Makoto was quiet and still. Slowly, he turned around. He looked like a mess, to say it plainly. His hair was disheveled, and there were tears streaming down his face. It was pathetic. And a bit sad.
Byakuya's stern expression fell into something more concerned. He took his hand off the door, and crossed his arms.
"Did you have another nightmare?" he asked, his voice notably softer.
Makoto looked down, and Byakuya sighed. He stepped out of the doorway. "Come on."
Makoto thanked him the entire time he was walking inside. Byakuya just waved it off as he closed and locked the door.
After Sayaka's murder, Makoto was barely able to sleep. He could barely stand being in his own room, knowing what happened. Byakuya couldn't exactly blame him.
They had done this song and dance before. Makoto would crawl into Byakuya's bed, and he would try to go back to sleep as Byakuya read aloud for a bit. But tonight seemed different.
Byakuya sat next to him, and grabbed the book, but Makoto's hand hesitantly went to his wrist. He gave him a questioning look. Makoto was staring at him like he had something to say.
He put the book back down, and fully turned his body to face Makoto.
Makoto took a deep breath. "Don't... don't read tonight," he asked softly, "just... just... hold me. Please."
Byakuya's heart softened as Makoto practically braced for his answer. Instead of giving one, he just laid down. He set his glasses back down, and turned out the light. He hoped Makoto would still see him holding his arms open in invitation.
He seemed to be able to see it, because after a short moment, he was settled into Byakuya's arms. He gently wrapped his arms around him, rubbing his back very slowly.
He could feel Makoto start to shake in his arms once again, and he held him a bit closer. He whispered a quiet invitation to "just get it out already," and felt his shirt dampen quickly thereafter.
Byakuya truly couldn't blame the poor man. He knew, even if he didn't want to admit it, that if Makoto was the one who'd died instead of Sayaka, he'd be reacting the same as him.
They laid in silence for so long that Byakuya had nearly dozed off. He was woken, however, by a question so soft he didn't understand it at first.
"Repeat yourself, Naegi," he mumbled, voice slightly gravelly with exhaustion.
"Do you think I'm gonna die here too?" Makoto whispered. His voice trembled slightly. Byakuya had to open his eyes at that.
He strained his eyes to see at least a little, and made out the faintest glint of wetness on Makoto's cheek.
"What kind of a question is that?" he replied, wiping the tear tracks off with his thumb. Makoto leaned into his hand so heavily that he felt bad trying to let go.
"I... I dunno, I just... I'm scared, Byakuya."
He was slightly taken aback by this. Makoto must've been tired and afraid; he used his first name. Nonetheless, he pushed through his surprise and continued speaking to him.
"I don't suppose you think that's a good thing to be admitting, in a place like this."
"Why not..? It's just you."
"Why are you so sure I won't use it against you?"
Makoto was quiet for a moment, considering this question. His face leaned into Byakuya's hand more. "I don't think you would."
Byakuya huffed. "And why is that?"
"I trust you."
Byakuya fell into his own silence at this. He looked away from Makoto, his head dropping onto his pillow.
"Trust is the most dangerous thing to give out, Naegi," he scolded. "You don't know if I'll kill you, or someone else. What then?"
Makoto sighed. "I'm too tired for your coded admissions of guilt, man," he muttered. Byakuya glared at him as best he could in the dark, and without his glasses.
"What is there for me to feel guilty about?"
"I dunno."
"Then don't make assumptions on what my words are meant to mean."
"Sorry," Makoto whispered. Byakuya shook his head slightly.
They laid in relative silence for a while longer. Makoto's breath slowed and evened, and Byakuya knew he fell asleep. He brought the covers up to his shoulders, though he didn't let go of him. Though, it was only because if he did, he'd wake up, of course.
Of course.
Byakuya stared at the ceiling and thought for a moment. He thought about Makoto calling him his first name. He thought about Makoto trusting him. He thought about betrayal. He thought about the game. It truly was a game, a sick, twisted game.
Byakuya couldn't find more thoughts to think about his current situation, so he settled on sleep. He might as well. Makoto was right there, asleep already. He couldn't move anyway.
As he dozed off, he curled further around Makoto. Only because he was invading his space on the bed. And so what if his lips brushed against his forehead? They were in such close proximity it was bound to happen. None of it meant anything. Nothing meant anything in a place like the one they were in. It'd all fade away, crumble to nothing as they realized how little trust meant.
Though, he would be a liar if he said he wasn't disappointed when the morning announcement played, and he had to let go. Maybe he wanted to hold onto the illusion a bit longer.
Maybe he just wanted to hold Makoto.