Mamoru was crying. He was crying in front of Nagi while sitting at his desk without the slightest consideration for how uncomfortable the telekinetic would be, but still Nagi watched blankly without saying anything. He knew too well Takatori Mamoru, once Tsukiyono Omi, did not cry anymore, except those few times when only Naoe Nagi was there. At times the telekinetic would wonder briefly if this meant he was invisible, but he decided not to ask. It was not in his nature to ask about randomly occurring thoughts, especially the ones that would occasionally enter his estranged mind. He stood tall, his shoulders back with all discipline about him as he waited for Mamoru to finish.
Eventually, Mamoru stood, walking over to Nagi as he wiped his dripping eyes and gave the other a tired smile. "It's because we've known each other so long, Nagi-kun, I can cry in front of you. You remind me of the old days…"
The grown Naoe did not shift his expression in the slightest. "In the old days, you wanted to kill me. I wanted to kill you. I threw you to a wall once. That wasn't pleasant, not for you, but I didn't mind seeing you hurt." Nagi did not like it when Mamoru would romanticize their previous relations, though certainly they were once associated with each other in more than merely business relations, but that was another story, quite an unpleasant one at that.
"But the way I remember it," Mamoru started, only to stop half way through when Nagi pulled away and headed toward the door. "Nagi-kun-"
"It isn't my job."
"Do you mind now? Do you mind seeing me hurt now?" He sniffled, his eyes red from crying too long. It probably was about thirty minutes before he remembered how awkward Nagi would get at times like those, standing stiff and silent while awaiting orders.
The telekinetic would have shrugged, but he stared across at the Takatori head instead. "It's my job to mind. I'll protect your body."
There was a long moment of silence between them as Nagi awaited dismissal and Mamoru silently hoped the telekinetic would give him a hug, cuddle him, and tell him everything would be alright. Then he remembered everything he willed himself to forget about the apathetic man before him. Nagi would not hug, cuddle, or comfort unless it was absolutely necessary. A part of him wanted to break the boy, the faint sadism lingering from when he would kill, not for pleasure, but for pain, a brief sedative, a numbing, relaxing pain.
"But it's strange. When we were kids, we were much closer." Mamoru smiled slightly.
Nagi shook his head. "That was not closeness. That was confusion. We were confused." Sullen, the man turned away to look up at the ceiling. It was rather fascinating, or more so than the ex-assassin's insecure ramblings. It made him nervous, too, and he did not like the feeling in the slightest.
Silence.
"We would be good together."
"You're a Takatori."
A brief pause.
"Do you still loath humanity?"
"That's not-"
"Nagi…"
There was another long moment of silence, shortly followed by footsteps running outside the hall. The clanking of heels was irritating. That woman was probably there, standing, waiting for the door to open so she could say something important to Mamoru to send the other off, back into his normal, stronger state. The insecure Mamoru left Nagi helpless, because in his fragility was great strength and manipulation.
"I hate-" Nagi paused, hearing the turn of the door handle. He moved to hide before she came in. Sometimes Mamoru liked to keep Nagi as his little secret, not telling Rex too often about the calls Nagi would make after a completed mission, or rather brief massacres. It was probably a little game in all honesty. It bothered him.
The woman stood tall, her blue hair almost falling into her eyes. "In Nara-"
"I know."
"Then-"
"Let's go."
