Chapter Text
The city buzzed with late-summer heat. The cicadas hadn’t stopped yet; their endless droning clashed with the faint hum of afternoon traffic. The sun pressed down hard, turning the sidewalks into a shimmering mirage and the air into a thick, humid blanket. Nagi dragged his feet behind Isagi and Bachira, eyes half-lidded, shirt sticking to his back. The heat bore down on them, draining what little energy Nagi had left—which was saying something, considering how low it was to begin.
“If we don’t reach the mall soon,” he muttered, sweat beading on his brow and trickling down his temples, "I'll end up melting.”
“You said the same thing ten minutes ago,” Isagi replied, adjusting the strap of the tote bag filled with cans of black, red, and fluorescent paint. “You’ll survive.”
Bachira grinned, walking backwards as he waved a roll of black fabric. “Can’t die yet, Nagicchi—we still have more things to buy. The haunted house needs extra spooky vibes.”
“You mean decorations, right?” Isagi said.
“Same thing,” Bachira replied, his eyebrows going up and down with a silly grin.
The automatic glass doors slid open with a hiss, releasing a burst of cool air that prickled against Nagi’s skin. The sudden shift from blinding heat to chill was almost dizzying. Inside, the mall unfolded like another city within—spacious and luminous. Sunlight filtered through the glass ceiling, scattering soft reflections across the marble floor. It seemed like a maze of light and marble suspended between levels; lush plants cascading from upper terraces, clear railings framing cafés and boutique stores. Somewhere ahead, the faint sound of running water reached Nagi’s ears.
It was all too much—rows of stores stretched endlessly before them, from luxury brands to hobby shops, restaurants glowing with warm lights and low laughter. Nagi’s gaze drifted upward, tracing the curve of the ceiling, detached from the movement of people below.
“Finally,” Bachira sighed, stretching his arms. “Should we get some ice cream?”
“Focus, Bachira, we’re not here for that,” Isagi said, scanning the directory map near the entrance. “The craft store’s on the second floor. Come on.”
Nagi followed, gaze drifting from one shop window to another. Bright displays, too many colors, way too distracting. Everything gleamed like it was trying too hard to be noticed. He wasn’t used to places like this. Most of the time, he just ordered what he needed online and stayed home. Walking here, surrounded by the hum of a faceless crowd, felt strangely... overwhelming.
“Hey, Nagicchi!” Bachira called from ahead. “Earth to Nagi! You’re spacing out again.”
“Mm.” Nagi blinked, snapping out of it. “... Coming.”
“You know,” Bachira said, balancing a roll of fake spiderwebs on his head, “we could rent one of those fog machines. Imagine it—the vibe. Total haunted mansion.”
“You just want to scare people,” Isagi sighed, glancing down at the shopping list on his phone. “We still need some candles, fake blood, and—”
“Skulls,” Bachira cut in, his grin widening. “Lots of skulls.”
Nagi trailed a step behind, hands buried in his pockets as he scanned the shelves packed with costumes, wigs, and props. Their chatter floated around him—easy, unbothered, full of an excitement he couldn’t quite match. Bachira changed topics even faster than Reo, and to be honest, Nagi never gave him the same kind of attention. Wasn’t worth his while.
Even so, he’d been trying to open up more since his talk with Isagi at the festival. After all, Reo had told him it would be good for him to have friends. Still, something else lingered in the back of his mind—a certain lavender-haired boy who hadn’t been giving him much attention lately.
Bachira kept finding ridiculous props—bloody rubber hands, ghost masks that screamed when squeezed—and Isagi kept sighing, but still added half of them to the basket.
“Nagi,” Isagi said, waving him over. “Can you reach that box? We need those lights.”
Nagi blinked, a little out of it, then turned toward the shelf. It was just out of reach for someone Isagi’s height. With a quiet sigh, he grabbed the box and handed it over.
“Everything okay?” Isagi asked, watching him closely.
“Yeah.” Nagi adjusted the straps of his backpack. “Just thinking.”
Isagi looked at him a bit surprised. “Let’s grab something to eat before Bachira buys out the whole store.”
“Hey!” Bachira protested. “You’ll thank me when people scream their lungs out at our haunted house!”
Nagi hummed, glancing at his phone screen—no new messages. Figures. “Fine.”
A few minutes later, they found a burger place on the third floor. The air smelled of oil and salt, thick with the warmth of fried food. They took a booth near the window, trays clattering as they sat down.
“It’s gonna be awesome,” Bachira said, already unwrapping his burger. “You’ll see. Our class’s haunted house is gonna destroy the competition. Especially Chigiri and Rin.”
“What’s their class doing again?” Isagi asked, going over the receipts.
“A crepe stand,” Nagi replied off-handedly.
“And Reo’s?”
“A butler café.”
“Seriously?” Bachira laughed. “That’s so on-brand for him.”
“Isn’t it a lot of trouble to do something food-related? He’s also organizing half the festival,” Isagi added. “Seems like too much. Is he okay?”
Nagi slumped further into his seat, staring at his tray as his appetite faded. “We haven’t been talking much since the semester began… it feels like he’s been kinda avoiding me, maybe.”
The two boys exchanged a quick look—half surprise, half concern.
“Weren’t you like joined at the hip back at the festival?” Isagi asked.
“Yeah, you were even wearing matching outfits. What happened?” Bachira chimed in.
Nagi hesitated before answering.
“I don’t know. Nothing, I guess… he just got caught up during the last weeks of vacation, and now he doesn't have time... again,” he sighed, popping a fry into his mouth.
For a moment, none of them said anything.
Bachira took a huge bite and spoke with his mouth full. “So, Reo’s been MIA lately, huh?”
“He’s just busy,” Isagi said. “Festival stuff. It’ll be over soon.”
Nagi looked down at his fries. “... I just want to spend more time with Reo.”
“Clingy much?” Bachira smirked.
Nagi only shrugged. “If I could, I’d be with him all the time.”
Isagi leaned back in his seat, half amused, half concerned. “He’s basically the prince of the school. You know how people get when someone like him’s in charge—budgets, meetings… it makes sense he can’t be with you all the time.”
“He’s not the student council president,” Nagi said flatly. “He doesn’t have to do all that.”
Isagi opened his mouth, then closed it. “You sound jealous.”
“Maybe I am,” Nagi said, poking at a fry. “Doesn’t matter.”
Bachira leaned over with a grin. “Guess we’ll have to drag him to the haunted house for a spooky festival date.”
Nagi rolled his eyes, but a tiny smile tugged at his lips. “You’re annoying.”
“And yet, you love my idea, don’t you?” Bachira said, lifting his drink in a mock salute.
“Don’t get cocky,” Nagi deadpanned.
Isagi snorted, shaking his head. Nagi’s smile faded as he glanced down at his phone, thumb hovering over the screen. His chat with Reo was still open.
- Are you still at school?
He hesitated before sending the next one.
- Want me to wait so we can go back together?
The reply came a few minutes later, short and neat, like a text written on autopilot.
- Don’t worry about it. I’ll finish late. I’ll call you later, okay?
“Everything good?” Bachira asked, mouth full.
“Yeah,” Nagi said, even though it wasn’t. He set the phone face down on the table. Outside, the sky bled into violet, streetlights flickering on one by one.
The corridors were alive with noise—posters taped to walls, students rushing past with armfuls of decorations, voices echoing down the stairs. Nagi walked past it all, sandwich and canned coffee in hand, heading toward the student council room. He hadn’t planned to go at first—not really. He just… wanted to see how far Reo had gotten with the festival prep.
The door was open. Inside, Reo stood at the center of the room, surrounded by stacks of paperwork and half a dozen students talking at once.
“No, the budget forms need to go through the class reps first—yes, that’s fine, but double-check the power outlets before using them, and don’t hang the banner without written authorization,” Reo said, his voice sharp and clear. He signed something, handed it back, and turned to another group without missing a beat.
His sleeves were rolled up, hair slightly messy, a few strands sticking to his forehead, but there was a spark in his eyes—focused, alive. Nagi leaned against the doorframe, quietly watching.
Reo looked… like he belonged there, in his natural element—one he could control effortlessly. He moved with that familiar ease that had first drawn Nagi in—the same kind of grace that pulled everything around him into rhythm and made everyone look up to him, obey him.
“You’re amazing—you should’ve been class president, definitely,” a girl said, giggling as Reo corrected a set of papers.
Nagi didn’t say it out loud, but he agreed—except for the class president part. That would take away too much of his “Reo time", something he wasn’t willing to give up.
When Reo finally noticed him, his expression softened for a second. Then he rushed over, making Nagi think that maybe he wasn’t the only one missing their time together.
“Hey,” Reo said. “Did you need something?”
“Not really,” Nagi said with a shrug. “Just came to see you. Here.” He handed him the sandwich and coffee.
A tiny pause. The air between them filled with noise again—the shuffle of papers, background voices, and the rhythmic tapping of chalk against the blackboard.
Reo scratched his cheek, a little embarrassed, a bashful smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “Thanks. Wanna come in?”
“Won’t I interrupt or something?”
Reo shook his head, the corners of his mouth still curved in a smile. “You won’t. Come in”
Tilting his head slightly, Nagi caught a glimpse of something stuck in Reo’s hair. Naturally, he reached out to brush it away—a small strip of tape clinging to the tips of his silky hair. But Reo stepped back half a pace, catching Nagi’s hand midair. His grip was light, his expression unreadable.
“What?” Reo asked, his easy smile never faltering, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“You’ve got something on your hair.”
Reo’s fingers brushed over the spot where Nagi had been about to touch. “Oh. Thanks.” He let out a quiet laugh—soft, controlled.
For a moment, it felt like the noise around them dimmed to nothing.
Then—
“Mikage, do you have a minute?” A soft-spoken girl with thick-rimmed glasses called from behind them. She was holding a large box, arms trembling slightly under its weight.
Reo let go of Nagi’s hand to take the box from her, the gesture quick but not harsh. “What is it, Ueda?”
Nagi looked at his empty hand. “Did he just… avoid me?”
The girl’s gaze flicked between them before settling on Reo. “Some students are arguing in the auditorium. Could you check it out?”
“Isn’t Terada there?” Reo asked, brows lifting.
Ueda hesitated. “He’s… there, but…” she trailed off, eyes fixed on her shoes.
Nagi noticed the way Reo’s smile shifted—still polite, but tired, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes.
“Alright,” Reo said after a pause. “Where should I take this?”
“To… the auditorium,” she replied quickly.
“Got it.” Reo turned to Nagi, a faint apology in his voice. “Sorry—I’ll be back soon.”
Nagi shook his head and took the box from him instead. “I’ll go with you.”
Reo blinked, surprised. Then he nodded.
The sandwich and coffee stayed behind on the council table as they left.
“Who’s Terada?” Nagi asked quietly as they walked.
“The stupid student council president,” Reo muttered, his voice dropping low.
Even before they reached the auditorium, tension hung in the air—heavy, crowded with too many voices. Students from different grades gathered in clusters, arguing—voices clashing like static. At the center stood a boy not much taller than Reo—dark hair neatly styled, tablet in hand, his face flushed and jaw tight.
“You’re all talking over each other,” Terada said, exasperated. “One at a time—”
“You can’t just change the schedule on your own!” someone shouted.
“We didn’t! We’re just following the schedule we were given!”
“Shit, now what?” Reo muttered under his breath. “What’s going on?” he asked, his tone firm.
“Perfect,” Terada said, spinning around. “About damn time you appeared. You’ve really outdone yourself this time, Mikage.”
“What are you talking about?” Reo asked, calm but clipped.
“Don’t play dumb,” Terada snapped. “Weren’t you the last one to check the auditorium’s schedule? Now half the performances overlap.”
“Because you didn’t approve the forms on time,” Reo shot back, his voice low. “I fixed it so people could actually get things done.”
“Fixed it? It's a fucking mess!” Terada’s voice cracked. “You can’t stand not being in control for five minutes, can you?”
Something in Reo’s posture shifted—his shoulders straightened, but his face went eerily still.
“Control?” he repeated softly. “You think I like cleaning up after you?”
“Come on, guys, this isn’t the time to argue,” another student cut in, stepping between them. “Check this out, Reo.”
He handed Reo a sheet of paper. He scanned it quickly, eyes narrowing. “Who gave you this?”
“Guess who,” the student muttered.
“This isn’t the correct schedule,” Reo said exasperated. “I’ll send you the updated one.”
“So now everything’s my fault?” Terada snapped.
“Terada, drop it already,” the other student said with an irritated sigh.
Terada ignored him. “Of course everyone covers for Mikage Reo,” he sneered. “Must be nice—getting special treatment.”
Reo froze, every muscle tightening. “What did you just say?”
Terada hesitated, suddenly aware of how quiet the room had gotten. “You don’t scare me.”
“You should,” Reo said, almost gently. His eyes glinted—too sharp, too focused. “Because unlike you, I actually know what I’m doing.”
A fleeting shadow slipped across the floor beside him—there one second, gone the next. The lights buzzed, the air crackling like static around them.
“Reo,” Nagi called softly, but Reo didn’t look back.
“You think you can do whatever you want without asking me first?” Terada huffed.
“I’ve spent weeks fixing your messes while you play leader,” Reo continued, stepping closer. “Don’t talk to me about privilege when you can’t even keep a simple festival from falling apart.”
Terada tried to speak, but no sound came out.
“Say another word,” Reo said quietly, “and I’ll make you regret it.”
The box hit the floor with a heavy thud, loud enough to jolt everyone. The sound cut through the silence like glass shattering underwater. Reo’s breathing came jagged—shoulders tense, fists clenched at his sides. For a moment, no one dared to move. Even Terada stood frozen, color drained from his face.
Nagi stepped forward, slow. His voice was barely above a whisper. “Reo.”
Reo didn’t answer. His chest rose and fell too quickly, his eyes bright with an anger that didn’t suit his usual calm. His gaze was fixed somewhere past the crowd, as if he couldn’t hear him.
“Reo,” Nagi said again, softer this time. His hands came up, resting gently on Reo’s shoulders. “Breathe.”
It was subtle, the change—first a tremor, then a slow exhale that sounded more like surrender than relief. His shoulders dropped under Nagi’s touch.
“Come on,” Nagi murmured. “Let’s go.”
He didn’t wait for permission. His fingers brushed against Reo’s wrist, guiding him through the stunned corridor. Nobody said a word as they passed by.
The sunlight outside hit them like a slap after the stale air indoors. They walked in silence around the side of the school until the noise of the crowd faded behind them. The lawn stretched out quiet and green. Reo sat down heavily on the grass, elbows on his knees, hands covering his face. Nagi hesitated for a second before sitting beside him—close, but not touching.
For a while, the only sound was the rustle of leaves.
“You were right,” Nagi said finally. “He’s an idiot.”
Reo looked at him sideways, hair falling slightly over his tired features.
“Told you,” he halfheartedly laughed. “But I shouldn’t have said all that—in front of everyone…”
“He pushed you,” Nagi said. “Anyone would’ve snapped.”
“Not like that,” Reo muttered. “That wasn’t—” He broke off, dragging a hand through his hair. “I don’t know what came over me.”
Nagi’s gaze lingered on him. There was a faint tremor in Reo’s hands, and the shadow beneath him looked darker than it should under the afternoon light.
“You’re just tired,” Nagi said quietly, nudging his shoulder. “Lie down for a bit.”
Reo hesitated, then let himself fall back on the grass with a soft exhale, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Without really thinking, Nagi shifted closer, letting the space between them dissolve. Reo’s hand found the edge of his jacket, fingers curling into the fabric as if to keep him there.
Nagi froze for a second, then lay down beside him, the tips of their shoulders brushing. They stayed like that for a while, until Nagi felt himself drifting off to the rhythm of Reo’s breathing.
“Sorry,” Reo said suddenly, voice barely above a whisper.
“Don’t be. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“You never think I do anything wrong.”
Nagi opened one eye, turning his head toward him. “Because you’re Reo,” he said, his tone lazy but sincere. “And I like you.”
Reo blinked, the words pulling him back to the present. The usual brightness had returned to his eyes—but it felt thin, fragile, as if it was trying hard to stay there. Slowly, he pushed himself up on one elbow, his upper body hovering over Nagi.
“You really chose a shitty time to confess,” he murmured, though the corner of his mouth twitched upward.
“Not like you didn’t know.” Nagi’s half-smile took him by surprise, his hand lifting to trace the line of Reo’s cheekbone.
“I like you too,” Reo said, his voice low. His fingers brushed against Nagi’s for just a second before pulling back. “Thanks for being here.”
“Where else would I be?” Nagi said, almost like it was obvious.