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Byakuya’s home was overwhelming- It was large enough that Makoto really thought he might get lost if he lost sight of Byakuya for even a moment, and the idea of wandering through the hallways until he came to retrieve him was terribly embarrassing. Everything looked so expensive and grand that he felt nervous to touch or breath or look at much of anything.
Perhaps, as his thoughts wandered to the distant, hazy feelings of their first meeting so many years ago, he had felt similarly about the man himself, although now there was hardly another person in the world he felt so at ease around. It seemed time had made it plenty easy to understand his friend, despite their vastly different upbringings and lives before each other- although really, Makoto found himself thinking less and less these days that they had ever been so different from each other at all.
Or perhaps that was the wine in his system talking. He hardly drank much, especially not these days- he hardly had the time, and he hardly trusted himself on his own, but he could certainly make an exception every now and then. He was only drinking a glass or two of ludicrously expensive wine, only taking the edge off of a grueling work week with his good friend, and he hardly found himself worrying when he was with him.
Despite all the factors that should have come together to form something terribly overwhelming, he felt at ease in Byakuya’s living room, on his far too comfortable couch that he felt he could stay lounged on forever, sitting just close enough that his leg brushed against Byakuya’s. He had a hard time relaxing, these days, always on edge and jumpy and smiling too hard, according to his friends who had known him before- maybe it was the alcohol, or the fact that Byakuya’s house felt like an entirely different world, or the man beside him, but he felt his shoulders sagging, his eyes dropping, his usually racing mind focusing persistently on Byakuya. He could feel him breathing, and something about this whole situation was making his heart flutter pleasantly.
He brought his glass up to his lips with two hands and took a sip. It was really good, although he wasn’t sure he could attest to the quality much past personal preference. He really didn’t know much about wines, although Byakuya seemed to think this one especially should impress him. He wasn’t entirely wrong, but he couldn't help but suspect it hadn’t quite had the same impact he had been hoping for. He couldn’t imagine why he was trying so hard to ensure someone like him approved of such a thing. He was plenty impressed by Byakuya already.
Byakuya snorted beside him, and Makoto looked up to meet his gaze. His pale cheeks were rosy, and a genuine smile played out on his lips, and Makoto distantly thought that he must have drank a good bit more than he had thought he had- “You drink it as if you're some child drinking out of a cheap juice box,” he said, and Makoto grinned.
“I have no clue what you’re talking about. I’m just trying to be careful. Who knows what you would do if I dropped it… Oh, these glasses look like the kind of thing my family would keep but be too scared to ever use, they’re so nice. And I’d get your fancy wine all over the couch and the floor…” He shuddered at the thought, and he felt Byakuya press against him just slightly, and he leaned some of his weight into him, into his comforting warmth. “You’d never let me into your house again, I don’t think,” he chuckled.
“Have someone clean it up,” Byakuya answered matter of factly, once Makoto finished. “As if I’d be able to kick you out… I suppose I’d manage to get over it, if it were you…”
“It’s easier for you to say that when we don’t actually have to deal with it,” he mumbled contently.
“Mm, perhaps you're right.”
“...if it were me?”
Byakuya tilted his head. “Yes.” He was still smiling faintly and looking at him far too genuinely, and Makoto felt warmth surge through him. He busied himself by taking another sip from his glass.
It was quiet for a while, and Makoto leaned back and yawned. Byakuya snaked a hand around to hold him at his waist, and Makoto made a grateful noise.
He looked into the cup in his hands, seeing a muddled reflection in the deep red surface. “I still feel like I’m not old enough to be drinking. Like I’m doing something I shouldn’t be. Even though I guess I’ve been able to, for… a couple years, by now… I feel like a high schooler pretending to be qualified for my job, most of the time.”
“...I believe it’s reasonable that having one's memories taken away would have such an effect. ”
“Mm. Maybe. Do you ever feel that way? You always seemed so… like you were so used to all that stuff, even back in high school…”
Byakuya clicked his tongue. “I certainly had different expectations of me. I can’t say my current line of work is terribly different from the sort of thing I was doing back then. Nor would anyone dare to tell me not to drink, if I saw fit to do so.”
“But you don’t drink much,” Makoto said, taking another long gulp. His glass was nearly empty. He vaguely remembered- or, perhaps, couldn’t remember- Byakuya drinking at any of the high school parties or gatherings he had decided to attend, nor could he think of many such circumstances since.
“I suppose you could say that. Nor do you. Hardly at all, these days.” Makoto nodded slowly. He certainly hadn’t avoided it, back in school, although now he hardly trusted himself to drink so liberally.
“It’s just… I mean, I guess no one expected things to be anything like this. But still… this isn’t what I expected my life to be like as an adult at all. It’s just weird to look back on.” He tilted his head back to drink the last of his wine before leaning forwards to place his glass onto the ornate coffee table in front of them. He leaned back again, settling more of his weight onto Byakuya. “My parents were married by my age. That’s just… so crazy to think about. I can’t imagine that.”
“...That sounds rather young, anyways. I’m not sure why you’re worrying about something like that, anyways,” Byakuya huffed, and Makoto could hear him taking a long sip.
“Maybe. Yeah. It still feels like I’m behind, though.” He wiggled further into Byakuya. “I haven’t even kissed anyone yet…”
He felt Byakuya shift under his weight. “You haven’t?” His disinterest sounded almost forced.
“...No. Or, I don’t think so, at least. Not that I remember. But I feel like I’d have remembered something like that.”
“...So what if you haven’t. I hardly see how that has any effect on any aspect of your life.”
Makoto turned himself over slightly in Byakuya’s grasp so he was facing him more directly.
“Mm, I guess I’m too young to be worried about dying alone. I just can’t help but feel that no one will ever…”
“What an idiodic thing to worry about. As if you’ll ever be alone, so long as I’m alive. As long as any of us are still breathing.”
Makoto chuckled. “Yeah. I guess that was stupid.”
“No one will ever what?”
Makoto let his eyes wander up to the ceiling of Byakuya’s living room, so high up it almost made him dizzy. It seemed impossibly smooth, although he supposed he would never really be able to reach up and see for certain. “Have you ever kissed anyone?” He glanced back at Byakuya.
He was scrunching up his nose, and he couldn’t quite tell if he was imagining his already warm cheeks getting redder. “What do you think. I hardly care about commoner constructs like that.”
“Ah, of course not…” He was starting to ache from his awkward position on his side, and so he turned over onto his stomach. “Just, I’ve always figured, you could probably win over just about anyone you wanted. Since you’re so amazing, or whatever you’re always saying. But I always kind of wondered whether you were interested in that kind of stuff at all.”
“...I never said I wasn’t.”
“Oh.” Makoto’s face was half buried against Byakuya’s shoulder, and he could feel it tense and untense beneath him. “Are you?”
“I don’t understand why you’re so obsessed with something so utterly meaningless. What, would it really bring you so much comfort, to have known you’ve shared a kiss with someone?”
“It’s not about having kissed someone. I think it’s more about… Knowing someone has wanted me like that before.” It felt stupid and vulnerable coming out of his lips, and he buried his face completely into the arm before him.
Byakuya was silent for a moment, and he could feel the embarrassment building up inside of him. “That’s stupid,” he finally said, and Makoto sputtered, pushing his face up to look him in the eye.
“Wh-what do you mean? I never-”
Byakuya scoffed. “It’s stupid to think no one has ever felt such a way about you before. Surely you aren’t that pathetically oblivious.”
“What are you talking about…?”
“I couldn’t count on one hand the number of idiots I’ve known to have fallen head over heels for you,” he huffed, and for some reason he was glaring off to the side, refusing to look him in the eye.
Makoto scooted forwards, pushing himself up slightly. “What? Who? How can you say something like that so confidently?”
When Byakuya finally looked back at him, there was some unusual darkness in his eyes, something sad and dull that he hardly recognized. “There’s no use in dwelling on it now,” He said, and the implication convinced him to drop it, at least for the time being. There was some pit forming in his stomach, and as if he could sense it, Byakuya held onto him a little tighter, pulled him closer towards him, and Makoto slumped against him.
“Maybe you should just kiss me,” Byakuya said suddenly, and Makoto felt much as if the breath had been knocked out of his lungs. He wondered if he had fallen asleep on Byakuya, and he felt embarrassed at the thought alone. “So that you can say you have, since that’s so important to you,” he continued levelly.
Makoto could feel his mouth hanging open, distantly, as his mind struggled to grasp at whatever was being asked of him. “Byakuya…”
Byakuya laughed, then, something self assured and nonchalant, and Makoto was almost certain he could feel his heart racing against him. “Would that help your little heart feel at ease?”
Wordlessly, Makoto pushed himself up and climbed over so he was straddling Byakuya’s lap, which was hardly much of a shift at all, so he could put an arm on either side of his chest, and he wondered faintly if he had drank a little too much, to be doing something so daring so thoughtlessly, but somehow he felt all of this made sense. Some of Byakuya’s confidence seemed to have faded, replaced with wide eyes and some expression he couldn’t quite decipher, and Makoto leaned his head forwards just slightly. “Only if… you’re sure that’s really what you want,” he mumbled, and Byakuya only nodded, and only as he leaned closer and let his eyes flutter shut did he feel Byakuya’s free hand reach up to grasp at his neck, warm and firm and drawing him closer.
Makoto finally kissed him, and he felt some of the tension fade from inside him. He reveled in the feeling of hands holding onto him tightly, of soft lips pressed firmly against his own.
He leaned in to kiss him again, again, until they were both out of breath and forced to pull away, although he was only granted a few short moments respite before being drawn in again by greedy hands cupping tenderly at his face, and he thought distantly that this felt awfully like being wanted.