Byakuya sat on the cot closest to the medical wing door, waiting for the others to take their seats and begin this round of memory regurgitation. It really couldn't be over fast enough for him. He just had to endure the reporting session and the final treatment, and then he could try to pretend that none of it had happened, that he'd never had his entire world overset by forgotten feelings.

Maybe he would leave. The Future Foundation had bases all over the world. He could ask to work in some other district, somewhere far enough away that he could excuse the lack of contact on the distance. He could follow through on his plans to make a name for himself, to restore the Togami name to its former glory, to carry on with everything he'd meant to do when they'd left Hope's Peak for good.

But even then, he'd been envisioning doing it all with Makoto at his side.

Byakuya scowled at his own weakness. It didn't matter what he wanted to be true. He would never have Makoto beside him, and he would just have to learn to cope with that reality. He would succeed anyway, no matter how hollow the thought felt right now.

Finally, the others took their seats on the cots, one by one. Looking around at them, Byakuya could tell that he wasn't the only one who had recovered memories from the Tragedy this time. All the survivors had a different set to their shoulders, a darker cast to their eyes, marking them with memories of the Tragedy that had set off despair around the world.

"All right," Dr. Kimura said, when no one seemed inclined to chatter as they had in some of the earlier sessions. "Let's begin." Her pen circled around to jab at Byakuya. "Mr. Togami, if you would start today?"

At least he would get this over with quickly.

"I remembered the Tragedy," Byakuya said. "Or as much of it as I witnessed. We all managed to barricade ourselves in a classroom, blocking the door with a stack of desks and staying clear of the windows. The barrier must have held fairly well, since no one ever managed to break through, but I did remember parts of it starting to fall apart near the end."

None of the others had anything to say to that, staring at the ground or off into the distance as they relived their own memories. Only Hina was looking at Byakuya, her head tilted. She seemed to be pondering something, but he couldn't tell if she was actually thinking about him or just happened to be looking in his direction.

"Do you have anything else to add?" Dr. Kimura asked, making a few more notes in her notebook.

Byakuya shook his head. "Not really."

The doctor nodded. "Very well. Mr. Hagakure?"

As the others shared their memories, it sounded as though they'd recalled more or less the same events Byakuya had. There were some minor variations – Kyoko recalled actually assembling the barricade, and Toko had been able to recognize more of the hallway noises – but overall they all seemed to remember the same thing.

Until Hina, at least. Her first memories mirrored the others, but as she got further into the chronology, she stopped, frowning.

"Anything else?" Dr. Kimura prompted, zeroing in on the hesitation.

"Well –" Hina bit her lip. "Yes, there was something else. It was near the end, I think, when the barricade started to take a lot of damage. It was only made of desks and things like that, so we did our best, but there were still some parts that weren't too solid. And so when something big hit the door, part of the barricade cracked."

Byakuya frowned. Now that Hina mentioned it, he'd remembered this as well – the jagged knife-like section of a desk that he'd seen just starting to plummet before he woke up. Well, that made sense. They were remembering the same event, so logically some of their memories would line up. Perhaps Hina's memory would explain to him why he'd felt such terror at seeing the falling desk.

"And it broke pretty badly," Hina went on. "So that there was this big piece of sharp, scratchy wood falling right towards Makoto."

Byakuya froze. The path of the broken wood, sharp and vicious, arcing downwards like a blade – he could see it, could feel the terror and adrenaline pulsing through him at the sight. The memory played out dizzily in his head as Hina continued to speak.

"I thought – I mean, the way it was going straight for his chest, I thought for sure it was going to kill him. And it was moving so fast, I don't think he even saw it. But then –" She glanced over, then hastily looked away. "Then Byakuya pushed him out of the way."

Yes, he remembered it now, as Hina described it. The panic, the fear, moving before he consciously thought about the pros and cons. He'd thrown himself forward, knocking Makoto out of the way, just before searing agony tore its way down his back.

"So you're saying the broken piece of the barrier hit Togami instead?" Kyoko asked, frowning.

Hina nodded. "There was a lot of blood. I don't know much about wounds, but I think it was pretty bad."

Bad. It had certainly been bad. The desk hadn't broken cleanly, and it had gouged deep in too many places. His back burned as the memory of it came roaring back, the pain so terrible that he'd passed out from it.

"Wait, hold on," Yasuhiro said. "Are you saying this guy, Mr. High and Mighty himself, took a hit to save Makoto's life? Because that doesn't sound like something he'd do."

"That's what I remember," Hina said, shrugging.

And now Byakuya did, too. He couldn't stop remembering it. The scene kept playing out before him on a constant loop – the broken wood about to impale Makoto, the agony when he got in the way instead.

He only snapped out of it when rough hands seized the back of his shirt and yanked it back so Yasuhiro could peer down the collar. Byakuya shoved his elbow back into the older man's stomach, twisting away from him in disgust.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

"I wanted to see if your back was really hurt," Yasuhiro said, looking as though he thought he'd been unjustly injured.

"Obviously it wouldn't be anymore, you idiot!" Byakuya snapped, readjusting his shirt as best he could after Yasuhiro's mauling.

"No, but it is all scarred and messed up," Yasuhiro said.

"What?" Byakuya blinked, stunned to hear that. He'd had no idea there were scars all over his back – but then again, it wasn't as though he could see his own back very easily.

"My master's perfect skin was disfigured?" Toko asked, looking even more horrified than if she'd been told her own back had been scarred without her knowledge.

"Yeah, it's pretty nasty," Yasuhiro said, far too cheerfully for such a statement.

Byakuya's face went red as the whole group stared at him. They were all looking too closely, like they could see through his masks no matter how stoic he tried to appear. Yasuhiro kept grinning, Hina actually had the nerve to look sympathetic, Kyoko had one of her obnoxious eyebrows raised at him, and – and –

Before anyone else could say a word, Byakuya was on his feet and heading out the door. He didn't care if they were in the middle of a treatment session or that they weren't supposed to wander far. He just knew that he had to get out of that room and away from those stares.

They all knew now, didn't they? Even the slowest of them had to have figured it out, when he apparently had the proof of his weakness gouged into his back for them all to see. The scars from such an injury would be never fade, a permanent declaration to the world that he'd been stupid enough to risk his life for a boy who couldn't stand to be near him.

He only stopped walking when he came face to face with a dead end and realized he'd crossed more than half of this floor of the Foundation's base. The only rooms back here were dusty storage rooms and other equipment people rarely needed. He hadn't realized he'd walked so far. He'd have a long trek back when he returned for the final dose of medication – if he returned. But at least on the positive side, he was pretty much guaranteed to be alone here.

Or so he thought, until the pattering of footsteps approached and rounded the corner towards him. Byakuya hoped briefly, desperately, that it was someone else – that he didn't really recognize the cadence of footsteps. But of course luck wasn't with him.

Makoto came running around the corner, leaning against the wall as he tried to catch his breath.

Byakuya stared at the boy, confused. Why had Makoto come rushing after him like this? The last time they spoke, Makoto couldn't have made it any clearer how unpleasant he found Byakuya's very presence. Maybe the doctor had sent Makoto to fetch Byakuya back. That seemed much more likely than the possibility that Makoto had come of his own accord.

"What do you want?" Byakuya demanded at last, when Makoto seemed prepared to stand and stare at him indefinitely.

Makoto blinked, jostled from whatever thoughts had been occupying him. "You – uh, you left before the session was over."

"And?"

"And I wanted to talk to you," Makoto said. "But you rushed off before I could catch up." He frowned. "You walk too fast."

"You're just too short to keep up," Byakuya retorted. It wasn't true, though. Makoto wasn't too short – Byakuya could see that the shorter boy was the perfect height to nestle in his arms, head tucked under his chin. Of course his height was perfect, everything about him –

Byakuya shut down that revolting train of thought before it could get any further. No good could come of that kind of sentimental drivel, especially not with Makoto standing right in front of him.

"Well?" he said at last, when Makoto didn't speak up. "What did you want to talk to me about?"

Makoto took a step closer, and Byakuya had to fight the irrational urge to step backwards in response. "Well – it's about what Hina said at the meeting."

Of course it was. Byakuya had been afraid that would be it. After all, Makoto wasn't the type to let something like that go, no matter how much he disliked the person who had saved him.

"I just needed to know if it's true," Makoto went on, his eyes boring into Byakuya like he could see right through to his soul. "Did you really get hurt protecting me?"

Could he deny it? No, not after Hina and Yasuhiro had both confirmed it. Byakuya decided to shrug, as if it didn't matter. "It seems so. I recovered some of the memories while Asahina was talking, and it was just a split-second reaction."

"So it really happened." Makoto took another step closer, staring up at Byakuya like he'd never seen him before.

"Apparently," Byakuya said, puzzled at this reaction. Had Makoto doubted Hina's memories? That didn't seem like him.

"Then I guess I really did misunderstand," Makoto said, a smile slowly brightening his face. "We really are friends."

Friends? Makoto couldn't honestly believe that had been the reaction of a friend, could he?

Maybe it was just a pity offering. Now that he knew about this moment of idiocy, Makoto felt obligated to try to maintain a pretense of friendship again. Wouldn't that be better than nothing? At least he could stay near Makoto, trying to forget the reality of the other boy's distaste for him. Couldn't that be enough?

"No."

Makoto blinked. "What?"

Byakuya scowled at him. "No. I don't want your pity. I don't want to be your friend."

Makoto's face fell, and some of the brightness leached out of the world at the hurt on his face. Byakuya's heart twisted, knowing that he was the cause – that he'd broken his remembered promise never to hurt Makoto. More than anything else, he wanted to wipe that expression away.

Fine, then. If he had to fall so far as this, at least he would walk away with something he wanted at the end of it all.

Byakuya strode forward, seized Makoto by the shoulders, and pulled him into a kiss.

Makoto tasted like everything he'd ever wanted, and Byakuya drank it in with a futile desperation, knowing he'd never get another chance. He had to sear this into his memory, lock away the firm pressure of lips, the heat of skin on skin, the way Makoto fit so perfectly against him.

And then, before it could be ruined by the other boy shoving him away in revulsion, Byakuya stepped back, even though it tore at his heart to let go of the only chance he'd ever have.

His heart pounded against his ribs, every thump of blood singing hot and needy for the other boy. Makoto stared back at him in shock, cheeks pink and parted lips flushed. Byakuya had to look away from the sight, or his resolve might have cracked enough for him to try again. That would be unacceptable, no matter how badly he might want to. Once could be explained away as making a point in a way that even Makoto could understand. Twice would just be weakness.

A weakness he wasn't sure he could resist. This had been a terrible idea. He should never have given in to such an emotional impulse. At least if he'd resisted, he'd still have his dignity, if nothing else.

His skin crawled at the thought of what Makoto must be preparing to say. It had to be terrible if the boy was taking this long to think of it. Byakuya decided that whatever it was, he didn't need to hear it. He turned to go.

"Wait!" Makoto lunged forward and scrambled into Byakuya's path, throwing out his arms like he could block the hallway. "You can't just leave, not after doing – well, that!"

"I think you'll find I can," Byakuya snapped. "Rather easily, actually."

Makoto's outstretched arms didn't lower. Not that they were much of a barrier, since he could have brushed past them without much difficulty, but he found he couldn't quite bring himself to do so. Looking at Makoto again had been a mistake – the determined look had always been one of the boy's most compelling expressions.

Byakuya sighed, resignation flooding him as he foresaw the course of the next few minutes. There were few things he wanted less than to have this upcoming conversation. "I suggest you just forget it ever happened. Knock the event out of the empty space between your ears, it should be easy enough. It won't happen again."

Makoto stared at him. "It won't?"

"No."

"But – why not?"

Byakuya froze, eyes locked on Makoto's, world shifting on its axis. "What?"

Makoto set his jaw and met Byakuya's gaze head on. "I want it to happen again."

Byakuya's resolve shattered. He stepped forward, reaching out a hand to touch Makoto's chin. Slowly, giving the other boy time to pull away if he'd misunderstood, he tilted Makoto's head upwards, moving close until the boy's face was inches from his own.

Their eyes connected in a breathless moment that stretched into forever.

And so slowly, Byakuya pressed his lips to Makoto's, a deliberate declaration of everything words didn't seem able to convey.

He had only meant it to be a soft, chaste kiss, but then Makoto pressed forward, snaked his arms around Byakuya, and kissed back.

Restraint couldn't possibly be expected in a situation like that. Byakuya gave in at last to the boy he could remember wanting futilely for so long, tangling one hand in that soft brown hair as he held Makoto close. He'd been prepared to walk away and abandon this possibility, but now that he had an invitation, he had no intention of relenting. And the lips hungrily devouring his own, the hands clutching at his back, the body surging against his instead of pulling away, all of it promised he wouldn't need to.

Everything he'd been craving since his memories started returning – since long before that, if he were honest with himself – he could do all of it now. He let his hand tangle in Makoto's dark hair, and it was as soft and fine as he'd imagined. He slid his teeth along Makoto's bottom lip where the other boy chewed it from nerves, and the other boy's muffled gasp against his mouth was better than he'd dreamed. He slid his mouth away, down Makoto's neck, indulging himself in a line of hot, fierce kisses along the line of skin just disappearing into the boy's jacket, and the sound Makoto made as he tilted his head to give him better access was perfection.

He never wanted to stop. He wanted to tear that stupid, form-concealing jacket off and throw it away, wanted to get rid of all the barriers between the two of them, wanted to run hands and lips over every inch of Makoto's skin until Makoto wanted him just as badly in return. And nothing was standing in his way.

"Whoa!"

Byakuya jerked away from Makoto at the exclamation, turning to see Kyoko and Hina staring at them from the corner. Hina looked genuinely stunned, but Kyoko, damn her, was smirking. Again.

He glared at the girls. "Go away."

"We'd love to," Kyoko said. "And you can come back with us. It's time for the last dose of our memory treatment."

He was about to tell Kyoko exactly what he thought about that treatment – but then Makoto pulled out of his arms, and all the heat seemed to be sucked out of the world with him. Byakuya stared at the other boy, off balance and bereft.

"Don't look like that." Makoto's voice was rougher than usual, and he sounded faintly out of breath. "She's right, we do need to go back. The doctor did say we had to finish the full treatment once we started."

Byakuya grimaced. "I suppose you have a point," he conceded with ill grace. And after all, he realized, they were just in the middle of a hallway. There was nothing stopping anyone else from wandering around the corner – and it was probably a minor miracle that Toko hadn't come hunting him down yet. He would much rather have continued to indulge his new privilege of kissing Makoto in a more private setting, but it didn't seem as though they'd be able to get proper privacy until the memory treatment had been completed. "We should get it over with."

He started to head in the direction of the medical wing again, but just a hair slower this time, so that the shorter boy would be able to keep pace beside him. He thought about reaching out and taking Makoto's hand as they walked, just to reassure himself that this hadn't been his imagination – but he wasn't about to try it with the weight of Kyoko's gaze on him.

"What?" he snapped at last, when she didn't say anything.

"I was just thinking that it took you long enough." Kyoko smiled at him, and even if there was some wickedness lurking in her expression, there was genuine happiness as well. "You really do need to get the hang of emotions, Togami. You'll just have to get Makoto to help you out with it."

Byakuya glared at her, but she didn't seem phased as she leaned in to answer a frantically whispered question from Hina. So everyone really did know now, didn't they? Somehow, that thought didn't bother him as much as it had a few minutes ago.

A warm pressure on his hand startled him, and Byakuya looked down to see that Makoto had pressed their hands together. That would be a ridiculous way to walk down the hall, impractical for the Foundation's narrow corridors and as sentimental as a schoolgirl's manga.

But he tangled his fingers with Makoto's anyway, and he kept their hands entwined until they took their final doses of medication.

He remembers the hallways.

Sealed away in Hope's Peak, waiting for the world to return to sanity, the few footsteps in the halls echo where there were once bustling crowds. With so few people wandering the halls, it is easy to pick out the pattern of a single student's walk, to recognize the one set that always lifts his heart.

He remembers smiling.

He thought he would never smile again after that heavy door closed them in the school for what will probably be the rest of their lives, but over time, it isn't true. There are moments of darkness, but shining through them he also finds flashes of light. He does smile again, and every time is one to treasure.

He remembers a promise.

He makes a promise every day, and it is gifted back to him in turn. He feels it in the warmth of a hand in his, the heat of arms wrapping around him, the blaze of lips against his own. He murmurs the words into soft hair, hears them echo back from a face buried in his chest. I love you, I love you, bright words to give them strength against the broken world.

He remembers.

As Byakuya woke, a sense of comfort and security lingered from the last set of memories. There was so little security left in his life now – he almost wanted to stay asleep, just to hold onto it a little longer.

But then he realized that his hand still stretched halfway across the space between his cot and Makoto's, their fingers entangled even after the long night. He tightened his grip a hair, just the faintest hint of a squeeze – and felt Makoto's hand squeeze back in response.

He opened his eyes and looked over at the cot beside him. Makoto looked back, a smile bursting over his face like the sunrise.

And for Byakuya, it made the world brighter.

Note: So that was the end. This has been a lot of fun to write, and I hope it was equally fun to read!