Chapter Text
11:40 PM.
20 minutes before midnight.
The low hum of student crowds starting outside could be heard as coats and solo cups were discarded in the spacious apartment-style dorm Reo’s family had secured. Having spent the earlier half of the night at the massive frat rager Otoya was DJing, they were now ending the year with their own after-party. Bachira cranked up the volume on the TV, the screen glowing brightly with the live New Year’s Eve broadcast.
Reo leaned against the kitchen counter, a half-empty cup of alcohol in his hand, watching the chaos unfold in the living room.
"You guys need to drink more!" Bachira insisted, holding a bottle of champagne. "Drink, drink! Is this really an after-party if you're not drinking? Drink, drink!" He went around, pouring the bottle in everyone's cups, starting with Isagi, then Chigiri, Kunigami, Nagi, and finally Reo.
"Good one, Bachira! You spilled some on the carpet!" Isagi groaned from his spot on the couch, setting his drink down to get a paper towel.
Reo watched the dark stain seep into the expensive fabric. Normally, his perfectionism would kick in, and he’d step in to handle it. But tonight, his attention was completely fractured.
His eyes immediately drifted past Isagi, locking onto Nagi.
Nagi lazily drank down the champagne without resistance. His eyelids grew heavy as his tall frame was already starting to sway a bit.
Normally, Nagi would complain. He’d whine about the burn of the alcohol, or beg Reo to take him to his bedroom so he could sleep. But Nagi just swallowed whatever Bachira poured into his cup, completely passive. Reo’s chest tightened as he watched a red flush creep up his neck and color his cheekbones.
Setting his half-empty cup down on the marble counter with a sharp, definitive click, Reo let his protective instincts take over. He crossed the living room, stepping smoothly between a bouncing Bachira and Nagi’s swaying frame. He looked like he was about to topple.
"Alright, Bachira, back off a bit," Reo said, his voice carrying its usual light, commanding charm, though his eyes never left Nagi.
Reo reached down, his fingers gently brushing Nagi's as he pried the empty cup from his loose grip. He set it down on the coffee table, out of harm's way, before sliding a steadying hand onto Nagi's shoulder to guide him down onto the cushions of the couch. It was a familiar, grounding touch—the kind of silent communication they had shared a thousand times before.
Leaning in close enough that his purple bangs brushed Nagi's temple, Reo murmured, low and private, “Hey, let's get you some water, Nagi.”
He waited for Nagi to do what he always did—lean heavily into Reo's side, whine about how moving was a pain, and let Reo take care of him.
Instead, Nagi let out a soft, incoherent groan. His eyelids fluttered, blinking sleepily through his messy white hair, but rather than leaning toward Reo, Nagi lazily shifted his weight in the opposite direction. He shrugged his shoulders, a weak, clumsy movement that effectively dislodged Reo’s hand, and slouched heavily back into the cushions.
"Too loud, Reo..." Nagi mumbled, his words thick and slurred as he buried his face away from the light. "Leave 't alone. 'M fine."
Reo’s hand was left hanging in the empty air for a fraction of a second.
The rejection was small, a mere twitch of a drunk boy's shoulder, but to Reo’s hyper-sensitive, fraying composure, it felt like a physical blow. The skin of his palm suddenly felt cold where Nagi’s warmth had just been. A suffocating sense of distance opened up between them right there on the couch, leaving Reo feeling strangely stranded.
"Yeah? If you say so," Reo forced out, his throat tight.
Around them, the rest of the room kept spinning, entirely oblivious to the sudden change in Reo's demeanor. Isagi returned from the kitchen with a handful of paper towels, muttering a quick "Thanks, Reo," as he dropped back down to the floor by the couch, scrubbing at the champagne stain. Nearby, Kunigami and Bachira erupted into a loud, animated debate about what kind of alcohol is best for New Year's: champagne or whiskey.
"Hey, look, we’re almost there!" Chigiri called out with a laugh. Reo glanced over toward the dining area, where Chigiri and Kunigami were sitting at the table. Chigiri was pointing a slender finger toward the television screen mounted across the room.
The bright digital graphics on the live broadcast flipped, and the voice of the enthusiastic TV announcer cut through the apartment’s chatter: “We are officially down to the final stretch, folks! Only ten minutes left of the year!”
The joyful holiday spirit booming from the speakers felt mocking, contrasting sharply against the tightening ache in Reo's chest. He realized with a jolt of panic that his mask was slipping. He couldn't make a scene. He couldn't look pathetic or territorial in front of their friends over a minor mumble from a drunk Nagi.
Forcing a tight, practiced host’s smile onto his face, Reo stepped back toward the kitchen. "I'll go grab that water anyway," he said to the room at large, his voice smooth and empty.
Safely in front of the kitchen counter, Reo grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge. He stared at the drink for a moment, using this moment to breathe through the irrational spike of anxiety twisting his stomach. He was only gone for maybe a minute, just long enough to let the coldness of the bottle settle in his palm.
But when he looked back, the dynamic in the living room had completely changed.
The loud burst of laughter from Bachira seemed to have disoriented Nagi. He had sat up a bit, blinking blearily and swaying dangerously on the edge of the cushions, his balance entirely shot. Isagi, just finishing up with the carpet, tossed the soiled paper towels aside and noticed Nagi’s precarious tilt.
"Whoa—Nagi, careful," Isagi said, instinctively reaching out.
Before Reo could even step out from behind the counter, water bottle in hand, Nagi’s strength gave out entirely. His head dropped, and his tall frame caved sideways—landing with a soft thud directly onto Isagi's shoulder.
Reo froze, the cold bottle of water solidifying in his grip as the countdown clock on the screen ticked closer to the new year.
It took a sharp, conscious effort for him to force his legs to move. He left the kitchenette, the plastic of the water bottle crinkling slightly under the white-knuckled grip of his hand.
As he approached the couch, Isagi looked up, his expression a mix of sheepish embarrassment and mild panic. He was pinned beneath Nagi, one hand braced awkwardly against Nagi’s chest to keep him from collapsing entirely into his lap.
"Uh, Reo? A little help?" Isagi laughed weakly, his voice strained. "He’s way heavier than he looks. And, uh, he feels really warm—I really don’t want him vomiting on my shirt."
"Right. Of course," Reo heard himself say. His voice sounded distant to his own ears.
He leaned down, setting the water bottle on the table, and reached out to hook his hands under Nagi’s armpits to haul him back. But the moment Reo pulled, Nagi let out a low, irritated whine. His arms instinctively tightened around Isagi’s torso, his fingers bunching into the fabric of Isagi’s shirt. He buried his face deeper into his shoulder, seeking a comfortable anchor.
"No... let 'm be," Nagi mumbled into the cotton. "Moving is a pain. Isagi is warm."
Isagi is warm.
The words sliced through Reo with a cruel, clean efficiency. He used to only say that about me.
A humiliating heat crept up Reo’s neck. He was caught in a tug-of-war, physically pulling on Nagi’s shoulders while Nagi stubbornly clung to someone else.
"Oh man, Nagi’s like a giant koala!" Bachira cackled from the edge of the rug, pointing and clapping his hands at the spectacle. "Isagi, you’re his new tree!"
Over by the dining table, Chigiri leaned his chin on his hand, his eyes sparkling with unbridled amusement at the chaos. "Careful, Isagi. Once he locks on, you have to pry him off with a crowbar."
Kunigami stood up from his chair in the dining area, hovering over the trio hesitantly. His large frame cast a shadow over the couch as he looked between Reo’s strained posture and Isagi’s suffocating expression. "You guys need an extra hand? I can carry him if he’s totally out."
"No, it's fine. I’ve got him," Reo snapped out a bit too quickly, his pride flaring defensively. He couldn't let Kunigami carry Nagi. Taking care of Nagi was his job. It had always been his job.
Bracing his weight, Reo dug his fingers into the fabric of Nagi's shirt and pulled with a firm, unyielding tug. "Come on, Nagi. Let go of Isagi. You're going to bed."
With a final, slurred protest, Nagi’s clumsy grip slipped from Isagi's shirt. His head lolled backward, his eyes barely cracked open as he spilled into Reo’s arms. The sudden, dead weight of him nearly threw Reo off balance, but Isagi quickly scrambled up from the cushions, his face flushed from the exertion, and caught Nagi’s other side.
"Thanks," Isagi let out a massive sigh of relief as he hooked Nagi's limp arm over his own shoulder. "Let's just get him to his room before he passes out on the floor."
Reo didn't trust his voice to answer. He simply nodded, taking the bulk of Nagi's weight onto his side, his arm wrapping around his waist. Together, with Isagi stabilizing Nagi's dragging steps, they began the quiet trek down the hallway toward Nagi's bedroom, leaving the loud countdown of the television behind them.
-
Once they got to his room, they practically poured Nagi onto the mattress. Nagi groaned, his long limbs instantly scrambling to roll onto his stomach so he could bury his face into the pillows.
"Wait, don't let him be face down," Isagi’s voice cut into Reo's space, and before Reo could even react, Isagi’s hand was already catching Nagi’s shoulder.
Reo felt a bitter spike in his chest, but he forced his own hands to move, working with Isagi to guide Nagi onto his side. They propped a pillow behind his back to keep him anchored.
"There," Isagi muttered, adjusting the fabric. "Just in case he actually does vomit. It’s safer this way."
Reo stared down at Nagi's flushed, peaceful face, his throat tightening. It was sound, practical advice. But a venomous little voice in the back of Reo's mind whispered that he should have been the one to think of it first. Taking care of Nagi was his job. Instead, he was just standing here, miserably following Isagi's lead in his own home.
Isagi straightened up, wiping a bead of sweat from his forehead, and looked around the dimly lit bedroom before turning to Reo. "He looks really hot. Do you want me to grab a towel from the bathroom? You can wipe him down a bit so he doesn't wake up feeling completely gross."
Reo forced his shoulders to drop, smoothing out his posture. He swallowed the sharp lump of pride in his throat and offered a polite nod. "Yeah. That would be great. Thanks, Isagi."
"No problem. Be back in a sec." Isagi slipped out of the room, his footsteps quiet against the hallway floor.
Left alone in the dimness for a few seconds, Reo let his mask drop. His posture sagged, his eyes tracing the familiar lines of Nagi’s face. Nagi looked so completely unbothered, utterly oblivious to the storm raging inside Reo’s chest.
A moment later, Isagi returned, slipping back into the room and handing over a rolled-up, damp white towel.
"Here you go," Isagi said, offering a small, sympathetic smile. He leaned against the edge of Nagi's desk, watching as Reo sat on the mattress and gently began to dab the cool cloth against Nagi's flushed forehead and neck. Isagi let out a soft huff of a laugh, breaking the quiet. "Man... he’s probably going to sleep until the late afternoon tomorrow, isn't he?"
Reo didn't look up from his task, his fingers meticulous as he wiped away the faint sheen of sweat from Nagi’s temples. "Yeah," he murmured. "Nagi has always been a lightweight."
Always. He deliberately emphasized the word, a subtle, desperate way of reminding Isagi—and perhaps himself—that he had a whole history with Nagi that predated this college campus.
An abrupt, heavy silence settled over the bedroom. The only sound was the distant, muffled thump of the bass from the TV announcer in the living room and the occasional pop of early fireworks outside the window. Isagi stood there, shifting his weight slightly, looking at the way Reo’s hands were almost trembling as he cared for Nagi. Isagi opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it, sensing the fragile atmosphere in the room.
Reo pulled the towel away, folding it over his knee. He couldn't take the scrutiny anymore. He couldn't stand Isagi seeing him like this.
"You can go back to the others, Isagi," Reo said, keeping his eyes glued to Nagi’s sleeping form. "Don't let Bachira drink the rest of the champagne by himself."
"Oh, right. Good point," Isagi said, though his tone held a lingering touch of hesitation. He took a step toward the bedroom door, then paused, looking back over his shoulder. "When are you coming back too?"
Reo’s chest felt so tight he could barely draw a full breath. He forced a small smile into the darkness. "In a few minutes. I just want to make sure he’s completely settled."
Isagi lingered for a heartbeat, his perceptive eyes searching Reo’s face, before he finally nodded. "Alright. Don't take too long, okay? The countdown is getting really close."
With a soft click, the door swung shut, and Isagi’s presence vanished from the room.
The silence that followed was absolute, rushing into Reo's ears like a roaring tide.
Reo let the damp towel slip from his fingers, dropping onto the floor. He rested his elbows on his knees, burying his face in his hands. His thoughts, which he had been desperately trying to suppress for the last twenty minutes, finally broke through his defenses, loud and agonizing.
He was entirely alone in his own space. Down the hall, his friends were laughing, celebrating, and stepping into a brand-new year together. Reo looked at Nagi, his heart aching with a terrifying certainty: Nagi was drifting away from him, gravitating toward Isagi’s effortless light, and Reo wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop it.
As Reo slowly lowered his hands, a sudden, loud burst of noise from the living room shattered the quiet of the bedroom. The television announcer’s voice, muffled but unmistakable through the wood of the door, began to lead the room in the final chant.
"Ten! Nine! Eight!..."
Down the hall, Bachira’s boisterous voice joined in, booming over the bass of the TV. Kunigami’s deeper rumble followed, even Chigiri was chanting along.
"Seven! Six! Five!..."
Every descending number felt like a countdown to his own irrelevance. Last year, at midnight, Nagi had been looking at him. Last year, they had made a silent promise to conquer the world together.
"Three! Two! One! HAPPY NEW YEAR!"
Muffled cheers and the sound of Bachira clapping erupted down the hall, instantly drowned out by a massive, booming explosion right outside the bedroom window.
The campus fireworks had officially begun. Vibrant flashes of violet, emerald, and gold bled through the glass, casting a rapid, strobe-like glare across the dark bedroom. Reo’s eyes were drawn to Nagi’s face in the shifting, colorful light.
Nagi didn't even stir. The colorful sparks illuminated his messy hair, his long eyelashes, and the curve of his mouth.
Reo stared at him as a final burst of purple light flooded the room, painting them both in the same color before fading into total darkness. The year had turned, and for the first time since they met, they hadn't looked at each other when it happened.
He couldn't stay in the dark forever. Standing up, Reo wiped his palms against his jeans, took a deep, shuddering breath, and forced the glossy, polite mask back over his features. He smoothed down his shirt, opened the bedroom door, and stepped back into the bright, chaotic light of the living room.
-
"Happy New Year, Reo!" Bachira beamed, a cardboard party hat sitting crookedly on his head as he waved a half-empty cup.
"Happy New Year," Reo replied with a smile, though it didn't reach his eyes.
Isagi looked up from the couch, scanning Reo’s face with a lingering trace of concern. "Is he out?"
"Yeah. Completely," Reo said smoothly, stepping over the discarded paper towels on the rug. He didn't look at Isagi for too long, terrified of what the other boy might read in his expression. "Listen, guys... I'm really sorry to cut the night short, but Nagi's totally dead to the world, and honestly, I'm feeling pretty wiped out from Otoya's party, too. I think we should call it a night."
"Aw, already?" Bachira pouted, but Kunigami was already stretching, nodding understandingly.
"Yeah, fair enough. It's been a long night," Kunigami said, reaching for his coat. "Thanks for having us, Reo."
As everyone gathered their things, Reo stood by the door, handing out coats and offering pleasant goodbyes. But as Chigiri slipped his jacket over his shoulders, he paused in front of Reo.
Chigiri’s sharp eyes locked directly onto Reo's face. He took in the slight, rigid tension in Reo's jaw and the hyper-stillness of his posture.
Chigiri didn't say anything to make a scene in front of the others. He simply reached out, giving Reo’s shoulder a brief, firm squeeze. "Get some rest, Reo," he murmured softly. "I'll text you tomorrow."
"Yeah. See ya, Chigiri," Reo muttered, his voice dipping for a fraction of a second before he recovered.
The final door click echoed loudly through the spacious dorm.
The silence that followed was heavy, rushing in to fill the void his friends had left behind. Reo turned the deadbolt, locking the world out, and leaned his back against the cool wood of the door.
He looked out at the living room. The TV was still flickering silently on the wall. Half-empty solo cups littered the tables, and the dark champagne stain on the expensive carpet stared back at him.
Reo slid down the length of the door, his head dropping to his knees as he hugged himself. What was he supposed to do with this looming sense of dread that his treasure was going to be taken away from him?