Togami moved towards the bed where Naegi lay sleeping, his feet carrying him forward as if under someone else's control. He couldn't look away from the unconscious boy's face, searching for some hint about whether Ogami's assessment of Naegi's condition had been right. What was the difference between a peaceful, healing sleep and a worrying state of unconsciousness? She'd admitted that her training was hardly extensive – could she have misjudged?
Reaching the side of the bed, Togami sank into the chair, watching the slow rise and fall of Naegi's chest. Was the breathing any steadier now than it had been before? He thought that perhaps it was. He could see the shadows shift across Naegi's face with every breath he took, the subtle play of darkness on his skin an indication that he hadn't yet fallen still. His face seemed softer now than the last time Togami had been here, features relaxed into an ease bordering on peaceful. Could that be the expression of someone unable to shake off the grip of unconsciousness?
Togami reached out, intending to brush his hand across Naegi's forehead and smooth away the stray strands of hair that had tangled there – but instead, his hand stopped, falling onto the pillow beside Naegi's head. If Naegi really was merely asleep, then a touch would wake him. That was all it would take to know the truth, to be sure that this was real.
And Togami couldn't bring himself to do it. He closed his eyes, gritting his teeth at this ridiculous show of weakness. It was better to know the truth, no matter how horrible it might be – he'd always believed that. Without accepting and understanding a harsh reality, there was no way to move past it to reorder the world to something more acceptable. He'd never let himself linger in denial, caught in a limbo of painful, useless hope. He'd always chosen to know.
Until now. Togami's hand curled into a fist, clenching the cloth of Naegi's pillow tight between his fingers. While he'd had to cope with bad situations before, he'd always approached them with full confidence that he would eventually be able to twist them in his own favor and emerge triumphant. But with this – if Ogami was wrong, if Naegi really was damaged in one of the ways that mattered – that wasn't something in his power to repair. If that was what he was going to find – if that was the reality that he would have to live in – then how could he bring himself to face it?
No. He was better than this, Togami knew it – better than the urge to sit bent over his lover's body, too scared to dare a touch. Ogami had said that Naegi was fine, that she'd spoken to him, that she'd been waking him repeatedly during the past few hours. He had no reason to disbelieve her, not when a lie could be so easily disproved. Worry over possible alternate scenarios was pointless, and he would not allow it to control his actions a moment longer. He would lift his hand, just as soon as he mustered the necessary resolve, and brush Naegi's hair from his eyes.
His eyes.
Which were open.
Togami jerked back, his spine hitting the chair with a sharp jolt. Naegi was awake. He was awake. It wasn't some what-if daydream or a far-off possibility – it was here, and now, and happening.
He couldn't look away as Naegi blinked at him a few times in sleep-muddled disorientation, drinking in the subtle shadings of green and brown that blended into his hazel irises, the inky black contractions of his pupils, the gentle curve of his lashes. Togami had thought he might never see those eyes open again.
And then something behind those eyes went sharp and focused, until Naegi wasn't just awake – he was looking at him. A bright moment of recognition crossed the other boy's painfully open face, tangled up with a joy that made Togami's heart clench in his chest. Naegi still knew him – and the sight of him sitting at the bedside had made Naegi happy. The world seemed like an immeasurably better place than it had been not ten minutes ago.
But then the happiness drained away from Naegi's face, forced out as confusion and distress rose in its place. "What are you… doing here? What… happened?"
The question felt like Naegi had doused him with a pitcher of ice water. Togami stiffened, stomach twisting as he realized exactly what it meant that Naegi still knew him. The most recent memories of him Naegi would have had to be their fights, full of bitter accusations and ending with Togami storming away in anger. Of course Naegi would find it an unpleasant shock to wake with Togami sitting beside him. The joy had been nothing more than a moment of confusion.
"This is my room, in case it escaped your notice," Togami said, forcing his voice to remain even. If Naegi was unhappy with his proximity, then he refused to allow his tone to betray that all he wanted was to gather the injured boy into his arms and never let go. "My presence shouldn't come as a surprise."
"But…" Naegi's gaze unaccountably flickered across his face, then down to his arms and chest. "Are you okay?"
"You are asking if I am okay?" Togami couldn't help but laugh at that, short and sharp. "Didn't Ogami bother to inform you what happened?"
"Yes, but…" Naegi looked down from Togami's face again. "Were you hurt, too?"
Togami frowned at the bizarre question, a hint of worry whispering in the back of his head that maybe Ogami really had been wrong about Naegi being in his right mind. Why would Naegi think that he'd been hurt? And what did he keep looking at? Togami followed Naegi's gaze down to his own chest –
And he saw the dried bloodstains stark against his white shirt.
His perspective seemed to twist, jolting him around in his own head until he saw himself as he must look to Naegi. His usually crisp formal outfit hadn't held up well under the strenuous activities he'd been doing today, the shirt and slacks wrinkled and stained. He knew he had grease under his fingernails, and he could feel an itchy streak of oil drying along one cheek. His hair had to be a disaster, damp with sweat and almost as unkempt as Naegi's own.
And then there was the blood, dark and gruesome and too obvious to ignore. It soaked the edges of his sleeves, crawled up his arms, smeared its way down his chest and onto his knees, like a visible brand proclaiming everywhere he'd touched Naegi. The heartache he'd experienced in the last few hours could be read off of him in the pattern of the bloodstains – where he'd knelt at Naegi's side, or braced his arm so Ogami could remove the scissors, or helped move him from the clinic. It was all there, every drop a reminder of another piece of that nightmare.
And Naegi had looked at all of that – and thought it was Togami's own blood?
"You utter idiot."
"Um… what?" Naegi blinked up at him, and the incomprehension in his eyes made Togami want to scream.
"Do you even bother to use your eyes, or do you just keep them around for decoration?" Togami glared at the boy in front of him, unable to believe that he still didn't get it. "This is your blood."
"Mine?" Naegi bit his lip as his gaze traced the pattern of the bloodstains again, as though he couldn't get his head around the concept.
"Yes, yours," Togami snarled. "Who else could possibly be stupid enough to get himself sliced up by a serial killer? How many people in this place make it a daily habit to risk their lives on a moment's whim? Of course I'm not injured – you're the only one here who's been found in a pool of his own blood!"
Naegi's breath caught, and he looked like he might have gone white if he hadn't already been pale from blood loss. "I – I didn't –"
"Didn't what, think? Because that's obvious enough!" Togami could hear the tremble entering his voice, feel sharp pricklings behind his eyes, but they weren't enough to hold back the flood of all the grief and anger he'd been trying to deny. "You nearly got yourself killed, do you even understand that? If Jill hadn't stopped – if Ogami hadn't helped – if anything had gone just a little differently, you wouldn't be here now. You'd be gone, and I –"
He snapped his jaw shut on those final words – but it was too late. Naegi had heard his meaning as clearly as if he'd spoken it aloud.
"I'm sorry," Naegi said, looking up at him with wide, miserable eyes. Even though his voice was soft, the words seemed to expand to fill the entire room. "I never meant to hurt you – not when I care about you this much. I don't want to make you sad, and…" He took a deep breath, his gaze never leaving Togami's. "And I don't want to fight anymore. But… I don't know what you want me to do."
The words wrapped themselves around Togami, warming him as thoroughly as an embrace. Naegi still cared about him. He hadn't been repulsed to find Togami beside him when he awoke, and he didn't want to keep fighting. He was alive… and he still wanted Togami in his life.
Togami couldn't help but reach out a slow hand towards Naegi, his fingers finally trailing the boy's pale forehead to brush away the wild locks of hair. Naegi closed his eyes at the touch, a soft smile trembling across his lips. Togami let his hand slide gently downwards along the side of Naegi's cheek, and Naegi turned his head to lean into it, pressing his lips to the edge of Togami's palm.
Togami's breath seemed to stop in his throat at the sensation of Naegi's lips against his skin, warming him in a way that had nothing to do with temperature. He'd thought he would never feel that again, and he couldn't stop the incredulous smile from spreading across his face at just how wrong he'd been.
"I don't want to fight either," Togami said, leaning closer. "All I want is for you to stay just like this. Stay alive… and stay with me."
Author's Note: Well, I didn't actually set out for this to happen in a milestone chapter... but I'm glad it worked out that way. It's a nice way to celebrate 150 chapters and nearly seven months of my life. I really do want to thank all of you who are following along with this story. It's fun to put the story together, but knowing you're enjoying it with me really makes it a delight. Thank you for reading, and I hope you keep sticking with me!
