Chapter Text
Naegi Makoto was the definition of a pushover.
Stuttering, averted eyes, idiot disposition— really, you could go on and on.
Even his appearance seemed to be molded for a submissive, idiotic dog of a human. Short and plain, all wide eyes and naivety, his lack of height and muscle mass being the only thing to stick out about his looks.
Truly, he was a loser. Through and through.
But actually getting on your knees to beg to the likes of Toko...
Byakuya had been enraged when he'd gotten wind of it, and he didn't even know why. The ignorant dimwit could embarrass himself all he wants.
Except that it's been three days, and Byakuya hasn't stopped thinking about it. It crossed his mind more than the game, what held his and everyone else's lives in its hands. Really, this was becoming a problem.
A problem that was currently sitting across from him, not even pretending to be enraptured in the book he'd half-heartedly grabbed before plopping down on a library chair.
It was perplexing. He'd done nothing but ridicule the boy (rightfully so) but he kept crawling back, not assertive enough to ever demand anything from Byakuya, and also not spineless enough to quit bringing his commoner stench into Byakuya's space.
First the willing begging, and now this.
Maybe he was a masochist. It certainly suited his appearance and personality.
"You." Byakuya finally snapped, and Makoto jumped slightly in his chair. "Why are you here?"
"To, uh—" There goes that squeaky voice. Christ. "To read...?"
Byakuya sent a pointed glance to the book in his slackened, disinterested grasp. It was upside down. Makoto realized this and flushed, one of the few expressions on him that didn't make Byakuya want to hit something, strangely enough.
"Someone like you doesn't read for enjoyment." Byakuya closed his book with an audible snap, putting his full attention on this ordeal. Makoto clumsily did the same.
"Now, I'm going to ask again. Why are you constantly tailing me? Do you fancy being my lap dog or something?"
"O-of course I don't!" Makoto protested. His hands were fists, clenched on top of his legs. A sign of nerves."I just...I just wanted—"
"Go bother someone else about it." Byakuya was losing interest, and fast. He could just feel the upcoming lecture about needing to team up and working together is the only way and all that other nonsense. "Why not Toko, in fact?"
"...Why would I go to her specifically?" Makoto looked confused.
"Oh, you know." Byakuya waved a hand. "You had no problem getting down on all fours at her request, begging like some sort of desperate mongrel. You two are close, I presume."
Makoto's expression shifted, and this was about the closest Byakuya's seen him look to being annoyed. Genuinely annoyed, even if it was muffled by nervousness.
"I had to do that!" He exclaimed. My, was he pouting? The length of his childish ways grew ever longer. "It wasn't even Toko, it was genocide Jack. If I hadn't done that, we wouldn't have gotten the information we needed!"
"Sure you wouldn't." Byakuya's voice dropped with sarcasm, because he could certainly play the childish act too. His annoyance had grown each and every time this little brat had dared show up in his presence, sticking his nose into his business, and Byakuya couldn't help putting every bit of past and current frustration into his words.
"Why are you so mad...?" Makoto's voice grew quieter. "Do you want me to apologize? I don't know what I did to upset you, but I'm sorry, Byakuya. Okay?"
The progeny looked at him a moment, considering. A beat of silence passed, and then two.
"If you're really sorry, how about you get on all fours and really apologize? You seem to be accustomed to that, after all."
Makoto looked mortified, face crumpling quite satisfyingly.
He hadn't meant that literally, of course. A rhetorical taunt, something to rile the Makoto up and hopefully make him storm off and leave Byakuya to his books, peace, and silence.
That's why he nearly choked on his own saliva when Makoto got up without a word, went right in front of him, and did exactly what he'd asked.
The boy kneeled onto the hard floor, hands clasped pleadingly in front of him. A bowed head bared a pale neck as his eyes trained on the ground.
Byakuya was damn near slack-jawed.
Curled in on himself like this, he looked all the more small. He really was a tiny thing. Byakuya distantly wondered just how slender he'd look without all those unnecessary layers on. Just for curiosity’s sake, of course.
"I'm...I'm sorry." He mumbles, looking unsure of himself. His eyes trailed up to focus on Byakuya, uncertain. "Was that okay?"
Was that okay. Good god. Byakuya was having a fever dream, wasn't he.
"You don't look like you mean it." He would blame whatever he said on temporary insanity. That was all this was. "With Toko, you really put your all into it. I'm disappointed, Naegi."
This best (and worst) part was Makoto looking genuinely guilty, shoulders slumping.
"I don't know what to do... "
"You're hopeless." Byakuya rested against his hand, braced on the table, feigning boredom. "For starters, come closer."
Makoto hesitated, so Byakuya snapped, "Do you want my forgiveness or not?"
That seemed to work.
The boy rushed to get up, but was stopped by a raised hand. "Ah, ah. A proper apology won't do with that. Crawl."
He looked a cross between baffled and flustered, two of Byakuya's least hated expressions for him. What a treat this was.
He obeyed with the barest hesitation and no vocal protests, refusing to look at Byakuya as he did so.
When all was said and done, he was inches away from Byakuya's crossed legs, looking as if he hadn't a single clue what was happening anymore.
"Good." The praise slipped out accidentally, but that way Makoto perked up, staring up at him with something akin to hope in his eyes, was certainly interesting. Like the family dog wanting a belly rub. "Now apologize properly."
Head meeting the floor as he bent down in earnest, joined hands nearly touching Byakuya's shoes. That gave Byakuya an eyeful of his hair, unruly as it was.
Much too long, too wild. It made him want to fist a hand into it and pull, hear what sort of sounds, whining protests and pleas, Makoto would make.
"I'm sorry." Makoto spoke clearly, voice only slightly muffled by the floor. "Please forgive me... "
With that, he rose up, enough to be able to look up at Byakuya with pleading, hopeful eyes.
His mouth was awfully dry all of a sudden. He swallowed it back and gave no attention to the thrumming of his own heartbeat in his ears.
Makoto flinched when the sole of Byakuya's shoe nudged against his shoulder, before staying there. Applying no pressure, simply letting his foot rest there, inches from a vulnerable throat.
He licked his lips, didn't miss Makoto tracking the movement. He was beginning to think that flush of red, resting high on his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, wasn't just from embarrassment.
"I think," Byakuya said, and his voice was noticeably lower. He cleared his throat. "I think you can be forgiven."