Work Text:
A gust of thick air travels across an unknown room. On a mattress lies Makoto Naegi, stiff and struggling to wake up.
He groaned as he desperately tried to open his eyes, as if they were glued shut. All he could see was the red of his eyelids and the same metallic mist the entire school was composed of. As he slowly gained his consciousness, he felt a strange lightness to his body. Probably because he had been laying there for a lengthy amount of time– but how did he even end up there?
For all he could think of amidst his attempt in waking up, he didn’t remember falling asleep. In fact, he didn’t even remember the later evening all too well. As he finally managed to open his eyes, he realized a crucial detail:
“Where…” he slurred to himself.
“Finally, you’re up.” A booming voice remarked from Makoto’s side. He turned over to see where it was coming from, forcefully trying to actually wake his body up. His vision was still adjusting, but what he could make out from the blurbs of light he could see was-
“Togami-” Makoto yelped. “Wha’ are you-” he whined, “doing in my room…?!”
Byakuya sat inclined on his pillow beside the other boy, a book in his hand. “Actually, you’re in my room.”
Makoto shook his head, but was immediately hit with an excruciating headache and intense heat in his body. He yelped from the pain, his hand massaging against his forehead for a moment.
“...Huh?” Makoto asked.
“That scrawny body of yours passed out by the dining hall.” Byakuya eyed Makoto up and down, emphasizing his “scrawny” description, “Kirigiri, for whatever reason, asked that I take you in.’
“You couldn’t… just… take me to my room?” Makoto shuffled around, trying to ease the weird sensation in his body from his illness.
“You didn’t have your room key on you, fool, you don’t realize how badly I wish I was able to for the sake of an easier night.”
“Jeez...” Makoto soon realized that he felt absolutely terrible. His head stirred around, the lights would blend in together, and his body felt weaker than ever.
“Agh,” Makoto whimpered, “I’m feeling… terrible…”
“I figured. You look sickeningly pale.” Byakuya observed, paying a strangely out of character amount of attention to Makoto. It really wasn’t like him to be worried, if you can even call it that here.
Makoto continuously groveled in his pain, drifting back and forth from consciousness. He often mumbled incomprehensible speech, whining and hugging the sheets. His headache especially drove him nuts, as if a lump of rocks replaced his brain. It was a spiraling feeling that felt like it would never end.
That didn’t last long however, as his grovelling was interrupted by a sudden touch to the crook of his neck.
“You’re warm.” Byakuya noted. His thin, lanky hands lightly caressed up to his forehead, checking the other boy’s temperature. It was an oddly gentle motion from a person such as Byakuya. The touch of his cold hands felt like an antidote to Makoto’s fever, a sensation he didn’t want to pull away from.
“Cold..” Makoto murmured, his speech slurring together, subconsciously grabbing onto Byakuya’s hand.
Byakuya pulled away, much to Makoto’s dismay, wiping his wet hand against the sides of his pants. Actually, now that he had felt it, Byakuya noticed how sweaty Makoto was. Was he really doing that bad?
He didn’t really understand why he took Makoto in. He hated him, didn’t he? Anyone else could’ve, he was basically the last person to take a sick classmate in for the night. That whole Kyoko asking him to take him in was almost a hard lie. It felt strange. And for him to be this touchy, this worried, it was odd for someone with Byakuya’s usual indifference.
Well, there was a part of him that sort of wanted to keep Makoto alive. He wasn’t in any life threatening danger, and more or less just down with a fever. Byakuya saw Makoto as more of a counter to him, a rival. And wouldn’t it be quite a shame if that very rival ended up too sick to even say a word. It was kind of an irrational reasoning, but he simply just wanted to keep him alive for now. But God, was there a strange feeling with him.
It wasn’t like he liked Makoto or anything of that sort, but he was pretty interested in him, like a zoo animal he wanted to keep an eye on every second he could, even if that zoo animal was groggy and burned up the side of the bed. That could’ve been why he was so observant or as gentle as he was. He wanted him alive.
This is ridiculous. Byakuya thought. That wasn’t a good enough reason to keep him in his room, sick and vulnerable, and all alone with Byakuya for that matter. Maybe he just enjoyed being observant. Maybe he just wanted to keep a sick dude in his room for whatever weird reason he has.
Or, maybe he was just worried and wanted him there, but he knew he’d never accept that.
Makoto turned towards Byakuya, his body on his side and cuddling against the soft pillow.
“Togami…” He muttered. “Cold. Please?” He opened his eyes, staring at the other boy’s hands. His soft, long, gentle, cold hands…
.Byakuya pursed his eyebrow, irritated from his situation and confused as to what the fuck Makoto was talking about. “Use your words.”
“Touch… head…” Makoto said, words barely coming out in sentences out of his exhaustion.
Byakuya felt as if he couldn’t do anything other than comply. It wasn’t him to be so soft like this, let alone attentive to someone like Makoto. God, so foolish. He didn’t understand why Makoto was such an eyecatcher of a person to him– an eyesore, for that matter. But it was as if he wanted to dip into Makoto’s soul with a pen and take note of everything Makoto was.
He wanted to understand. What an infatuation that boy was, someone so hopeful yet driven by his lingering grief. Someone so attentive and intelligent.
Still, it didn’t make too much sense for why he had ended up under Byakuya’s care. But, there’s no changing the past. It was either he kicked out a sickly boy without his room key– Hell, he lost his room key– or let him stay the night,
He drifted his hands onto Makoto’s face, his hands nuzzling around Makoto’s intense warmth that clung onto the coolness of Byakuya’s touch. It was clearly working, as Makoto’s body eased up from the cold. Byakuya removed the sheet covering Makoto’s body, allowing for more air to cool him down.
Makoto lightly felt around Byakuya’s hand subconsciously, guiding the hand around his face and neck. God, this feeling was so tender. A grip you never want to get rid of.
“Why…” Makoto muttered, his voice a little clearer than before, “...are you taking care of…”
Byakuya had no response. “Do you ever stop talking? You don’t have your room key. That’s all. Keep quiet for once, won’t you?”
Makoto hummed, and felt around Byakuya’s hand more. He leaned in a little closer, just slightly under Byakuya’s shoulders. The boy was hardly aware or awake for that matter, so it’s no surprise he clung onto the first solid thing that bumped into him: Byakuya’s waist.
Surprised from the immediate touch, Byakuya gasped as he eyed the view of Makoto below him, his head nudged right against him. Makoto was most likely drifting asleep by that point, his murmurs slowly coming to a stop and his breathing stabilizing.
Byakuya didn’t need to do anything anymore. Well, he kind of has an entire guy clinging onto him, but he didn’t need to be comforting him anymore. As he stayed in that position, he observed how Makoto’s felt like they were adhered to Byakuya’s body. He could feel the soft bristles of Makoto’s hair shifting against the fabric of his clothing.
It all felt too intimate, too tender. This was too irrational for Byakuya’s sake. As much as he wished he had kicked Makoto out to find his own damn key while on the verge of passing out again, he knew a part of him was hoping for this kind of feeling. A pretty small part of him, however. Not like he could do anything about it now.
But it just kept ringing back and forth in his head. He should’ve kicked him out– hell, he shouldn’t even have taken him in, let alone care for him.
It almost didn’t matter anymore. Makoto was fast asleep against Byakuya, and he couldn’t do anything about it. Byakuya lightly pat the other boy’s back, trying his hardest not to get too comfortable like this.
He should’ve kicked him out. He really should’ve.