-when his anger is taken out on the wrong place in the wrong time- angst
You heard the door slam before you saw him.
Heavy, rushed steps. Keys tossed onto the console. His bag hitting the floor with a thud that echoed down the hallway.
He didn’t even say hello.
You were already in the kitchen, apron still on, a dish towel over your shoulder and his favorite food still hot on the stove. You had candles lit — just two, small ones, nothing dramatic. You just… wanted to make him smile. You missed his smile.
So when he walked in, stiff-shouldered and scowling, you tried anyway.
“Hey, baby,” you said, gentle, trying to meet him where he was. “Rough day?”
He didn’t answer.
You took a step closer, hands still in the dish towel. “I made—”
“Why is it so fucking dark in here?” he snapped, voice sharp like glass. “I can’t even see anything—can you turn a goddamn light on for once?”
You froze, blinking.
“I— I just thought the candles would be—”
He scoffed, brushing past you, hand running through his hair, exasperated. “Jesus. I come home to this after the shit I’ve been through?”
You swallowed hard. “I didn’t know it would be this bad. I thought maybe—maybe it’d help. I made your favorite.”
You lifted the dish — still warm, perfectly plated, just the way he liked it. Your hands were trembling.
And maybe it was the wrong moment, or maybe he didn’t mean it at all, but he looked at it — looked at you — and said,
“I don’t need you hovering over me. I need space. Just—fuck. Stop trying so hard.”
Silence.
Your fingers shook.
Something in your chest cracked. Not loud — soft. Like the quiet break of something that had been held together too long.
“I was just trying to make you happy,” you whispered.
The dish clattered — not shattered, just dropped onto the counter as your hands fell away. Your breath hitched. The tears came faster than you could stop them.
And then he reached for you.
“Shit—wait, wait—baby, I didn’t mean—”
You flinched.
Like he’d slapped you. Like his voice alone had scorched the space between you.
his eyes widened. His hand froze midair.
You were already turning away — stumbling, shoulder brushing his as you ran past, up the stairs, into the bedroom, the soft sound of a door clicking shut behind you like a final period at the end of a sentence you didn’t want to write.
Downstairs, he stood in the kitchen. Staring at the plate you made. The food untouched. The candles still flickering softly. Pushing back the hair out his eyes
collecting [yandere!reo mikage x reader x yandere!nagi seishiro]
cw: obsessive behaviour, stalking, manipulation, implied kidnapping, isolation, toxic relationship dynamics, nagi is a cat (jk)
based on this request !
>
The coffee shop is unusually busy this morning. You are absolutely certain you put your card, a bright yellow one, hard to miss, in the front pocket of your purse, but it is not there.
You murmur, “Ah, shoot.”
The line behind you is growing, and the barista is beginning to look impatient.
“Uhm…I'm sorry - ”
“Let me save you.”
You look up. Purple hair. Expensive coat.
You hesitate. “You really don’t have to.”
“It’s just coffee.” He smiles gently at you. “Besides, you can owe me one.”
You smile and nod.
When you leave you have exchanged numbers and you walk to the train thinking about the smile mostly, and a little about the card, which never turns up.
Reo texts you that evening
hope the rest of your day was better than the start.
You smile at your phone.
Soon enough, Reo is everywhere in your life and you like having him around. He is become a close friend.
The thing about Reo is that you never have to say anything twice.
You mention a restaurant offhand in October and he books it in November without referencing the conversation, "just I thought we could try this" and it's the right place, exactly the right place, and you laugh and say "how did you know" and he just shrugs and holds the door open.
He knows how you take your coffee. Knows you run cold, appears with a jacket. Knows when you've had a bad week before you've said anything, meets you with the specific food that fixes it.
"You're like a cheat code," you tell him one day. He laughs. "I just pay attention."
>
You meet Nagi on a rainy Sunday, a month after the coffee shop incident.
He's on the couch when you arrive, console in both hands, and he doesn't look up when Reo introduces you.
"Nagi."
"Mm."
"This is her."
A pause in the gameplay. He glances at you once, brief and goes back to his screen.
"Hey," he says, to no one in particular.
You look at Reo. Reo smiles. "He's like this with everyone," he says, guiding you toward the kitchen. "He'll eventually warm up."
And..that he does. Warm up would be a far cry, it's more like an adjustment. Lazying around most days, but with every visit of yours, starts arranging himself closer around you. At first, it's sitting on the couch closer to you, the next he makes space for you on the couch, soon it's resting his head on your lap while playing games.
"It's funny," you say to your friend Hana one day, "Nagi was completely indifferent at first but now he just.. I don't know. Rearranges around me. Like a cat."
She raises her eyebrows. "And that's not weird?"
"It's sweet, actually. Reo's the same. Whatever Nagi wants, Reo gets it for him almost immediately. The moment he shows interest in anything Reo says, "I'll take care of it." I think that's just how Reo is, he reads people, pays that kind of attention to everyone he loves."
Hana asks, "So..do you like any one of them?"
You stir your drink. "Honestly, I dont want to complicate things with them. They have become..good friends you know?"
"Yeah," Hana says. "Makes sense. Karasu seemed interested in you though, just saying."
>
You mentioned the date casually while packing your bag
Nagi stopped playing his game. Reo stopped stirring his coffee. It was the first time you had ever managed to get both of their full attention so quickly.
“A date?” Reo asked.
You blinked. “Yeah.”
“With who?” Nagi asked.
“Someone from my friend’s course.”
“No,” Nagi said.
You stared at him. He stared back. His expression was blank, but his hand had tightened around his phone. You laughed uncertainly. “That wasn’t really a question.” You slung your bag over your shoulder. “I have to go.”
Nagi caught your wrist before you could step away, his fingers wrapped around you loosely, almost lazily, but he did not let go.
“You’re coming back after?” he asked.
You looked down at his hand. “Sei..”
“Are you?” His voice was soft.
Reo leaned back in his chair, watching the two of you carefully. “Nagi,” he said, almost gently. “Let go.”
For one second, Nagi did not move, then slowly his fingers slipped away.
You thought to yourself, maybe h's being insecure.. I should talk to him about this later. You left with an uneasy feeling in your chest. Neither of them said goodbye.
>
Your date never showed up. You waited for forty minutes before checking your phone for the tenth time.
Nothing. No apology. No explanation. Your messages were not even delivering. You were on the way to your home irritated and embarrassed, trying not to take it personally when your phone buzzed
Reo:
Pasta leftovers, you hungry?
You hesitate but the loud rumble from your stomach decides for you. You enters their apartment door. Nagi was comfortable on the couch. He barely looked up from his phone. “Welcome home.”
The silence stretches as you shifted uncomfortably from one leg to another, remnants of previous conversation still lingering in your mind.
Reo enters in the doorway, holding a cleaning towel in his hand. Perfectly dressed. Perfectly calm. He smiled at you. “There you are. How was your date?"
You shrug, voice low, "Asshole never showed up."
Reo hums and brings out pasta from your favourite place, he smiles at you. "His loss. It's from Vini's." He puts the bowl infront you and sits across.
You take a mouthful of it, groaning in satisfaction. "I dont know you do it Reo. You take such good care of me."
He chuckles as he reaches behind him and sets something on the table in front of your bowl. A notebook. Small, dark, well-worn at the spine.
"This is how," he says.
>
You pick it up smiling because, of course, Reo has a notebook.
Your coffee order. The restaurant. Your jacket size. The film you mentioned once, three Tuesdays ago.
“Aww, this is insane,” you say, laughing. “Reo.”
He smiles. “I told you. I pay attention.”
You turn another page. Your smile falters. Your landlord’s name. Your work schedule. The route you take home - the things you never told him about?
Then:
Karasu Tabito.
Not a good influence. Cut contact.
Today’s date is written neatly beside it. Your fingers stop moving.
“Reo,” you whisper. “What is this?”
His expression softens. “He was not good enough for you.”
Your chair scrapes against the floor as you push yourself upright. “You don’t get to decide that.”
“We do,” Nagi says.
Your head snaps toward him. His phone lies forgotten beside him now. His grey eyes are fixed on you with an intensity you have never seen before.
“I didn’t care before,” he says quietly. “Where people went. Who they talked to. It was easy.”
He stands. You take a step back and he follows.
“But you keep leaving.” His brows knit together, almost irritated. “Reo says I can’t just stop you because you’ll get scared.”
You look at Reo. He gives you a faint, apologetic smile. “I told him we needed to be patient.”
Your breath catches. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“You trust people too easily,” Reo says gently. “You walk home alone. You forget to charge your phone. You agreed to meet someone you barely knew.”
“That is none of your business.”
Nagi frowns. “It is.”
You slam the notebook down onto the table in frustration. Something slips from between its pages.
Small. Rectangular. Bright yellow.
Your card. The one you lost the morning you met Reo.
The room seems to tilt around you. You look at the card. Then the notebook. Then Reo.
The pieces do not fall into place so much as they drop all at once, heavy and sickening.
“You-”
You stagger toward the door, the floor shifts beneath your feet. Your hand catches the edge of the table. “What did you put in my food?”
Your legs buckle but before you can hit the floor, arms wrap around your waist from behind. Firm. Unhurried.
Nagi.
You claw at his hands. “Let go of me.”
He pulls you against his chest.
“Nagi, please.” Your voice cracks. “Please. I’m scared.”
His chin settles against your shoulder. “I know." He murmurs in your ear, " 'msorry baby, we didnt mean to frighten you, yeah?"
He inhales the scent of your neck, "we just couldn't let you leave."
The answer is quiet. Almost absent-minded.
That is worse.
You search for Reo through the blur gathering at the edges of your vision. “Reo,” you choke out. “Help me.”
But Reo is not looking at you.
He is looking at Nagi.
And on his face is an expression you have seen before but never named. The same quiet satisfaction that appears whenever Nagi shows interest in something and Reo says—
I’ll take care of it.
You understand, with the particular clarity of things understood too late.
He had been collecting you for him.
an: too long! sorry! also, my first time writing yandere, be kind please. :) let me know if you want a part 2 to this? i have some ideas as to what the "new life" for the reader would look like. :)
Been saving up for a new laptop for so long — this one's painfully slow and hangs ~45 times a day. Even a small tip would go a loooong way! Support me on Ko-fi: ko-fi.com/yatsurinamikaze
[nagi x reader] - happy birthday to the cutest, nagi!
i cried while writing this. i love him so much :c
growing up, birthdays were never a huge aspect of nagi's life. there was never cake, gifts, or parties. his parents would only send him more than enough money to splurge on his interests and video games like clockwork each year.
nagi only realized it was his birthday when reo loudly announced it during class, drawing a few halfhearted wishes from his classmates. later when he checked his phone, he noticed the annual birthday pay check was already e-transferred into his account.
the rest of the day went by like usual―napping during class, playing video games on his phone, afternoon soccer practice. it was a mundane, ordinary day, with school taking up most of his time, nothing special in particular.
soccer practice wrapped up later than usual. by the time nagi stepped out the locker room, the sky outside had already darkened into deep, dreamy hues of blue and pink. the school hallways were empty, not a single student in sight since everyone left much earlier.
nagi lazily adjusted the strap of his backpack over his shoulder, phone in his other hand while walking out the front door.
meanwhile, you were sitting on the concrete ledge near the entrance, legs swinging absentmindedly while scrolling through your phone. the second you noticed nagi exiting the school, your eyes lit up.
"finally," you squealed, stumbling up to approach him. "i've been waiting here for you!"
nagi paused in his tracks, blinking at you tiredly. he wasn't expecting you to be here, especially now of all times.
"what are you doing here?" he asked.
instead of answering his question, you shoved a sparkly gift bag into his chest.
"happy birthday seishiro!"
nagi's gaze dropped to the bag before slowly lifting back to you.
"...oh."
you frowned immediately. "what kinda reaction is that??"
nagi ignored your complaint, eyes peeking inside the bag. inside was a slice of strawberry cake, lemon tea, some random snacks you knew he liked, and tomodachi life: living the dream for his switch.
he stared at the gift, fingers pausing slightly around the game case. he remembered mentioning wanting the game to you once―only once. and that was weeks ago too, way before the game actually released.
his chest fluttered strangely at the concept of you remembering the small, casual thing he said.
"you didn't have to," nagi hummed quietly, thumb brushing against the plastic cover of the game. he could've bought it himself whenever he wanted. money was never an issue for him.
"well, i wanted to," you murmured back. quickly reaching into the gift bag, you pulled out the slice of cake and a candle. you even placed a party hat on top of nagi's tousled hair.
too lazy to argue, nagi let you fix the crooked hat while you tried lighting the candle against the cool evening breeze. the tiny flame flickered weakly between your hands before it settled on the wick.
you looked up at nagi with a grin. "make a wish, birthday boy!"
nagi stared at you, grey eyes softening at you―your smile, the way your hands carefully shielded the weak flame from going out, and the fact you'd waited outside for him without a complaint.
again, his chest twisted with an unfamiliar high he didn't know whether to chase or to ignore. for now, he wanted to follow that feeling because it lead to you.
slowly, he crouched down and blew the flame away. when he met your sparkly eyes, nagi suddenly felt like birthdays were not completely pointless. he was already looking forward to the next year.
as the two of you walked away, nagi tucked away his sole birthday wish into the deepest corner of his heart, secretly praying it would stay true forever and ever, way beyond the extent of infinity.
Hihi Elle, hope you’re okay! I just wanted to request if you could write something about reader reuniting nagi after his elimination, I dont necessarily think he’s too upset about it but i just wanted to see how ud write it and if he’d need comforting or not. Feel free to ignore ofc, Thank you
:') i gotchu bae (the 299 leaks Hurt :’))
reuniting after his elimination
nagi seishiro x gn!reader. angst, hurt-comfort
you stood at the bus stop, anxiously wringing your hands as you waited for your boyfriend to arrive. you'd been watching live when the final results were announced and received a text from him not even ten minutes later that he'd see you soon. he didn’t sound too distressed over the phone, but you weren’t sure how he’d be in person.
finally, you spot the faded blue bus turn the corner and stand from the bench, eager to reach out and hold your boyfriend. you waited for the bus to slow and felt goosebumps erupt over your arms when you spotted nagi through the window.
the doors opened, and there he was.
his hoodie and hair were slightly rumpled, as if he’d fallen asleep on the ride back. there was a blue lock bag clutched in one fist as the other hand was wrapped loosely around the strap of his personal backpack. his eyes looked a bit distracted as he stepped off the bus, and you spread your arms out wide.
“aw, baby,” you cooed when he dropped both bags onto the ground and stepped into your embrace, nearly knocking you over with how heavily he hugged you.
“‘m sorry,” you heard him mumble into your hair. you gently pulled his face away and cupped it between your hands, his arms still wrapped around your waist. “i wanted you to be proud of me.”
you hoped he couldn’t hear the sound of your heart breaking as it shattered in your chest. “sei, i am proud of you.” you brushed his white bangs from his eyes as he shook his head. “i let you ‘nd reo down. i wanted to keep playing with him and the others. sucks.”
sighing, you pulled his face into the crook of your neck so you could run your fingers through his hair and down his back. “then you get better. you practice, you find your ego, and you play. just because you aren’t playing with them now doesn’t mean this is the end for you.”
nagi nuzzled his nose against your neck. “i cried,” he announced, sounding slightly embarrassed by the confession. “after i left. reo, too. he tried really hard to fight for my spot. feels bad.”
you tightened your grip on him. you’d seen that live; you felt those emotions, too. “that’s okay. he cried because he cares about you, you know. not because he was mad at you.”
“… still.” nagi squeezed you around the middle and you fought the urge to break down right then and there. he was clearly upset and seemed conflicted over that.
stepping out of his grasp, you placed a soft smile on your face and caressed his cheek with your thumb. “you’re home, now. let’s celebrate that for a little bit! i found a place that makes really good lemon tea not far from here.”
you pulled the straps of nagi’s backpack over your shoulders as he grabbed his blue lock duffle bag. when you caught him eyeing the logo a bit longer than you liked, you reached for his hand and gave it a squeeze. the corner of his lip curled up a tad when he looked over to find you smiling at him. “come on, sei. my treat!”
Your childhood friend, despite not seeing you for years, maintained his feelings for you to the point of asking your parents for your hand in marriage. And you didn't even have the right to refuse.
Wounded, you saw your dreams of independence vanish in an instant. Despite your outbursts against Seishiro, the only reason behind his actions was to protect you from someone who, unbeknownst to you, wanted to take advantage of your vulnerability.
He would not allow a man with dark intentions to snatch you from his arms.
ⓘ WARNINGS: femreader. arranged marriage. childhood friend!nagi. friends to lovers (I think). set in times past. the reader is reo's sister. eventual angst and soft. nagi is bad at expressing his feelings but is just a fool in love.
For Seishiro, life had always been a puzzle he couldn't solve. Human emotions, their nuances, and the intensity of the feelings he seemed to provoke in others were a constant mystery. Now, as he watched you from a distance—your gaze avoiding his and your posture clearly defensive—he couldn’t understand why you were angry with him.
He tried, if only a little, to find a clue, a spark of clarity to tell him what he had done wrong. After all, he was the one who had saved you from a fate he thought far worse. Wasn’t that enough? What could be worse than falling into the hands of a stranger? You were with him, someone who had been part of your life since you were a child. Shouldn’t that bring you comfort?
Nagi let out a soft sigh, his thoughts drifting back to the past, to a time when he was nothing more than an insignificant boy—the son of a humble worker on the fields your family owned. Or, more precisely, the fields that belonged to your father, an imposing man who ruled his vast property with unquestionable authority.
Back then, he was no one, just another boy carrying sacks of wheat and tending the land you inherited by right. But he had known you forever, from those afternoons when he saw you running through the fields, carefree and unburdened. Now, however, the distance between you was vast—not just in words but in emotions.
The question lingered in his mind, striking him with a force he couldn’t ignore: Why were you so upset with him? He had done what he thought was right, acting with what he believed was your best interest at heart. But as he looked at you now, so distant, he began to doubt. Had he been wrong to think that saving you was enough?
Nagi lowered his gaze, uneasy, as you kept your distance, as if every step toward him was a step toward an abyss you weren’t willing to cross. He had been part of your past, but at that moment, it seemed he had no place in your present. And that, though he didn’t fully understand it, hurt more than he wanted to admit.
When he was a child, he had met Reo by sheer coincidence, and it was all thanks to you. In a way, he believed you had saved him first.
That sunny day, your dress swayed in rhythm with the refreshing breeze, carrying the scent of the valley’s lush vegetation and the crops before you. Your steps echoed against the wooden terrace floor. He always watched you from afar, without ulterior motives, though he knew how bad it might sound for someone to observe you silently without approaching. Still, his eyes couldn’t help but seek you out, watching as you stood on that terrace for hours, contemplating the landscape as if searching for something the world couldn’t give you.
He never saw you there when the others were working in the fields. Perhaps you stayed away out of respect, not wanting to interrupt, or maybe you simply enjoyed being alone, losing yourself in your thoughts as the day passed. He never had dark thoughts about you, but there was something about your presence that drew him in, something that made him want to approach you, even if only for a moment.
Finally, that day, he summoned the courage. His steps were slow and cautious, his worn boots crunching against the dry soil as he approached the steps where you were sitting. There he was: that thin boy with a white shirt stained with dirt and sweat, his sunburned cheeks speckled with dry dust. He smelled of damp earth and strawberries, a peculiar mix that, somehow, wasn’t unpleasant.
Strawberries.
In his calloused, trembling hands, he held a small basket. The fruit glistened under the sunlight, its vibrant red standing out against his dirt-streaked fingers. He stopped in front of you, inhaling deeply to steady his uneven breaths.
“Would you like…?” he asked, his voice soft but tinged with nervousness. He held the basket tightly, as if fearing you might reject it.
You didn’t respond immediately, your eyes drifting to the strawberries before meeting his again. There was something in his calm expression—a mix of shyness and hope—that made you lower your guard.
“I just washed them,” he added hastily, as if it was an important detail, and extended the basket toward you.
Without further hesitation, you reached out, picked one of the strawberries, and brought it to your lips. The sweetness exploded in your mouth, juicy and vibrant, making you close your eyes for a moment to savor the flavor.
When you opened them again, you noticed the faint smile that had appeared on his face, as if seeing you accept his small gesture had made all his effort worthwhile.
But that smile vanished as quickly as it came when you abruptly stood up from the step and extended your hand toward him. Startled, he instinctively recoiled, lowering his head as though bracing for a blow. But the impact never came.
Instead, all he did was watch as you took another strawberry from the basket and ate it slowly, observing him with a mix of curiosity and something else he couldn’t quite place.
“I… I thought you were going to hit me or…” he stammered, his voice trembling between the words.
You cut him off before he could finish.
“Why?”
“Uh?”
“Why would I hit you?”
He hesitated at your question. His slightly parted lips seemed to search for an answer, while his eyes, once dull and drowsy, now appeared more awake, though filled with confusion.
“Because that’s what masters do… when I try to be nice,” he finally replied, tilting his head with innocence, as though what he said was normal, something that didn’t require further explanation. But the relief in his face didn’t match the pain you felt upon hearing his words.
“They think I’m overstepping,” he continued, unaware of how your features tightened with a mix of surprise and what could only be described as pain. His voice was calm, almost resigned, as if he were repeating something instilled in him too many times.
“People like us aren’t supposed to be near people like you. We’re not at your level. That’s what they say.”
“Who says that?” you asked abruptly, unable to hide the disbelief in your voice.
The revelation left you stunned. His tone was so casual, so devoid of malice, that it struck you deeply. You had never heard anything like it before, much less in connection to your family. How could those words, spoken so naturally by a child, be true?
You had grown up believing in a home where kindness and equality were fundamental values. You had never seen that side of your family—or at least not in front of you. But now, his words planted an uncomfortable doubt, one you couldn’t ignore.
You looked at the boy. His wide, sincere eyes, incapable of grasping the weight of what he was saying, sent a shiver down your spine. He didn’t seem to understand the gravity of his words, how they painted a reality you had never considered.
And you were left with a question you couldn’t answer: Why not believe him?
“I would never hit someone, even if they were ‘beneath’ me…” you said firmly, clenching your hand into a fist. Your eyebrows furrowed, and your expression turned grave as you trembled slightly, trying to process your emotions. Your other hand, resting by your side, also showed signs of tension.
“I would never become that kind of person. Not even if you’re just another worker for my family… that’s not how I was raised,” you murmured, averting your gaze to your feet, lost in thought, as those words continued to hammer away at your mind.
Seishiro watched you in complete silence, processing what you had just said. A warm sensation bubbled inside him, mixed with something resembling guilt. He wondered if he had hurt you by saying what he did. It had been a mistake, and now he regretted breaking the relaxed atmosphere you had shared. He liked seeing you happy, with those little strawberry stains on the corners of your lips.
«If only I had kept my mouth shut...» he thought, silently cursing himself.
With a serious expression, you reached into the pocket of your dress and pulled out a handkerchief, extending it toward him with determination. Seishiro looked at you hesitantly, unsure of what to do, but you didn’t have the patience to wait. Stepping aside, you dipped the handkerchief in the water from a glass you had brought, still untouched, and then leaned closer to him.
Before he could react, you brought the damp cloth to his face, carefully wiping away the dried dirt on his cheeks. The unexpected contact left him breathless, especially when your faces were only inches apart. When you moved the cloth to his forehead, the cool water soothed the burning heat that had been tormenting him.
As you worked to clean his face, the usual hardness in your expression softened, and your warm, close breath brushed against his. Seishiro could barely process what he was feeling; his cheeks grew hotter than they already were, and it wasn’t because of the sun.
“Don’t go out under the sun without a hat, especially when you’re this dehydrated,” you said in a stern but concerned tone. Your words, though firm, carried a sweetness, a genuine tenderness that completely disarmed him.
“My father placed water fountains everywhere for a reason. Next time I see you in this state, I’ll throw you into one of them. I don’t want you passing out from heatstroke.”
Your eyes looked at him sincerely, and he could hardly meet your gaze. Your words echoed in his mind, not because of the scolding, but because of the care embedded in every one of them. And as you stepped away, Seishiro couldn’t help but feel that, at that moment, there was something more refreshing than water: your presence.
He couldn’t stop thinking about the incessant beating of his heart, so strong he felt it resonating in his back, making his body tremble slightly. He clenched his fist, and the dampness of the handkerchief in his hand brought him back to reality. He lowered his gaze to the piece of cloth and noticed the hand-stitched details. The threads were twisted, the patterns somewhat uneven, but they still formed delicate flowers: orchids.
Purple orchids. He recalled what he knew about flowers, thanks to his father and the gardens he used to tend. Those flowers represented royalty, elegance, sophistication. A perfect symbol for someone like you. Purple was a color reserved for the highest status, and those flowers seemed to be an extension of your world, one to which he had never belonged.
His fingers gently traced the embroidered details as he sighed, lost in the memory of your face so close to his, the way you had cared for him. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw you walking away, entering the main building. He watched as you headed toward the “storeroom,” as the employees called it, where your father had his office and other rooms.
Without thinking too much, Seishiro ran after you. His feet thudded against the ground, first dirt and then marble, as he crossed the grand white entrance. Everything around him was immaculate: the floors gleamed, the decorations exuded luxury, and every detail spoke of a world to which he did not belong. He searched for you with his eyes but saw you descending the stairs at the end of the white hallway.
He hurried, determined to return the handkerchief to you. But before he could reach you, his body collided with that of another boy.
The impact was sudden, but his reaction was quick. With an agile movement, he extended his foot to stop a ball that had gone flying after the collision. He balanced it with his heel and, with his other hand, caught the handkerchief before it hit the ground. It all happened in an instant.
The other boy, with purple hair, stared at him wide-eyed, utterly astonished by the feat.
“That was awesome...!” the boy murmured, amazed. He quickly descended the stairs and threw an arm around Seishiro’s shoulders with infectious enthusiasm.
“You’ve got incredible reflexes!” he exclaimed, a wide smile lighting up his face.
Seishiro watched him silently, his expression neutral and slightly confused.
“What’s your name? I’m Reo Mikage.”
“Seishiro Nagi...” he replied after a pause.
“Do you play soccer? From now on, we’ll play together, you and me,” Reo said, his grin so wide it seemed to brighten the entire room.
Seishiro blinked, bewildered. He was still processing the boy’s words when he remembered something: you. He lowered his gaze to the handkerchief still in his hand, and when he raised it again, you were gone. His face tightened with a mix of disappointment and resignation.
That day had been important. He had taken the first step to talk to you, to get closer to you. But at the same time, that day he also met Reo, who turned out to be your brother. And while that meeting marked the beginning of something new, a part of him couldn’t help but regret that you had disappeared from his sight.
That day remained etched in his memory as a turning point, an invisible thread connecting his past to his present. From then on, he never saw you again. Not at the estate, not at the Mikage mansion. Seishiro quickly became friends with Reo, and it was he who, after a few days, casually mentioned that you were gone. By your father’s orders, you had been sent to an exclusive all-girls’ school. That had been your last day in the village and in your home.
Reo also mentioned that you had argued with your parents before leaving. You had been gone for hours, but before you left, you confronted your father. You told him about what that boy had endured, revealing a reality he had been completely unaware of. That conversation had sparked a change. Thanks to you, your father took action. Seishiro’s father no longer worked in the fields under the scorching sun and the abuses of other employees. He was rewarded with a more dignified position within the estate, far from the harshness of his previous environment.
The life of Seishiro also changed drastically.
He went from living in a humble home with dirt floors to one with gleaming marble floors and smooth, white walls. For the first time, he didn’t have to endure harsh weather or the weight of a life marked by extreme poverty.
Although he felt gratitude, there was something overwhelming about it all. And then Reo, with his characteristic lack of filter, spilled the truth: everything Seishiro and his father had achieved was thanks to you. Reo told him, with a mocking glint in his eyes, about the letters you had regularly sent to your father. In those letters, filled with concern, you asked for details about how Seishiro was doing and demanded improvements to his quality of life. You insisted that he be given a proper home on the estate, the same education as Reo, and that he not be treated as inferior.
But you had also made one thing clear in your letters: everything had to remain a secret. You didn’t want Seishiro to know about your involvement. Perhaps you didn’t want to make him uncomfortable or preferred that he believe all of it was the result of his own destiny and efforts. However, Reo, being who he was, revealed it all with a teasing laugh, more for the pleasure of embarrassing you than out of malice.
For Seishiro, the revelation was disconcerting. He remembered your determined gaze that day, the way you gently wiped his face, and the concerned words you hid behind a firm tone. You had been a fleeting presence in his life, but your influence had been immense, leaving marks he was only beginning to understand.
And now, here you were, in the present—a reality that, at this moment, was painful to witness, to see you like this, with him.
“Why did you do this to me...?”
Your voice cracked into a barely audible murmur, suffocated as though your lungs were struggling to find air. The trembling of your body made the light dress you wore cling to your tear-soaked skin. You were sitting on the edge of the large canopy bed, half-covered by the sheer curtains surrounding the structure. The contrast between the opulence of the furniture and the devastation in your chest was overwhelming.
You sobbed silently, but your gasping, strained, and desperate breaths broke the heavy air of the room. Hot tears fell, tracing uneven paths down your cheeks and soaking the fine fabric of your dress. You covered your mouth with one hand, as though it could contain the intensity of your cries, but nothing could silence the harrowing echo that resonated in the room.
“I wanted to protect you...”
His voice, deep but broken, shattered the silence. Seishiro stood there, just a few steps from the bed, his shoulders weighed down by guilt. But your tear-filled eyes pierced through him like daggers.
“You didn’t protect me—you destroyed me. Everything I fought for years was ruined because of you!”
Your tone lashed at him, forcing him to step back, though he tried to maintain his composure. You ignored his attempt at sounding gentle, as if those words could mend the damage.
“My dreams... everything I wanted since I was a child is gone! For a damn marriage I never even asked for!”
Seishiro’s face darkened even more. His hands trembled as he kept them clenched into fists. Each of your words was like a dagger sinking deeper and deeper into his chest. He didn’t regret intervening, but that didn’t ease the pain of seeing you like this—broken—because, in the end, it was all due to his decision.
The night he overheard the obese man, the one who always stood beside your father at parties, changed everything. He recognized the guttural, repulsive laugh of the bearded man who always followed your father like a shadow. What he overheard froze him. Wandering through the dark hallways of the mansion, trying to escape the commotion, the man’s words stopped him in his tracks.
“I’ll accuse her. I’ll say she tried to seduce me. I have the proof.”
The man’s tone dripped with malice, as though reveling in the vileness of his plan. He said that very night, before you left for the girls' boarding school exactly seven years ago—hours before you met Seishiro Nagi for the first time—he would tell your father, in front of the council, that at only twelve years old, you acted like an adult and tried to throw yourself into his arms with lust.
All to force you into marriage, a filthy maneuver to gain access to your family’s power and influence. Worse, he had fabricated “evidence” to back his lies, all to blackmail your family into forming an alliance through marriage.
Seishiro remembered the profound disgust he felt, a nausea that nearly made him vomit on the spot. You—the person who couldn’t harm an ant for fear it might have a family waiting for it—were the target of that despicable man. And he couldn’t let it happen.
He withdrew from the scene without confronting the man, his stomach churning and his chest full of rage. He, who had always avoided conflict, wanted to pummel that man until he couldn’t speak again. But he couldn’t risk the monster’s plan proceeding.
Days passed, and his attitude toward you changed. He tried to spend more time with you, speak to you with an unusual warmth for him, but all of it had a purpose. He didn’t know how to tell you, how to prepare you for what was to come. He made efforts to stay close to you, organizing outings that confused you. You knew he was lazy and not inclined to take such initiatives, but you didn’t understand the reasons behind his change.
And then, one night, as you were chatting in your room, a maid knocked on the door.
“Your father requests your presence in the parlor, miss.”
Seishiro was tense. His eyes, usually indifferent, darkened with a seriousness that sent a chill down your spine. You descended the stairs with a tight chest, glancing nervously at his impassive face. Upon arriving, your parents were there, their expressions severe and unreadable.
“What’s going on?” you asked, looking at Seishiro.
He stepped forward with a calmness that only heightened your unease.
“We had an affair.”
The words struck like thunder. The air left your lungs, and for an instant, everything seemed to freeze. You stared at him in disbelief, searching for any sign that he was joking, that those words weren’t real.
“That’s a lie!” you murmured, but your voice lacked strength.
Your parents, rigid, looked at him with disbelief. And then Seishiro delivered the final blow:
“She’s expecting a baby. My baby.”
“Dad, that’s not true!” you shouted louder, your desperate cries echoing through the grand parlor as your chest began heaving uncontrollably. “That’s not true—I’m your daughter. I would never do something like that.”
He spoke with a firmness that left you frozen. Your father clenched his jaw, struggling to keep his composure. The word “my” reverberated with a possessiveness that seemed to sink you even deeper.
“Mr. Mikage,” Seishiro continued, never breaking eye contact with your father. “I know what we did is unacceptable. I understand your anger, and I’m willing to accept any punishment. But I want to make amends and protect your honor and your daughter’s. That’s why... I’m asking for her hand in marriage.”
His voice trembled slightly, but his stance remained firm. Inside, his heart was in pieces. He was doing it for you, he repeated to himself over and over. It was all for you, even if it meant you would hate him forever.
“I want to take care of your daughter,” he continued, addressing your father. His voice trembled slightly, as though guilt threatened to surface. “I’ll love her as she deserves. I’ll do whatever it takes to repair this mistake and protect her honor—and our child’s.”
Seishiro spoke with the conviction of a man ready to sacrifice everything. And he did it for you. But to you, in that moment, all you felt was betrayal.
« I do this because I want to protect you, » the silver-haired man thought as he kissed your father’s and mother’s hands with respect. Seishiro could feel your intense, resentful gaze burning into his back as he bowed to your father. He gained nothing from this arrangement—he cared nothing for the connections or wealth your family would bestow upon him once you were bound in marriage. Yet, if breaking the bond of trust the two of you had built since the day you came into his life was the price to pay, he would do it a thousand times over before seeing you with an older man.
Someone who might be twice your age and likely to take advantage of your vulnerability. But in the end, Seishiro didn't need to try to win your heart—he already had you in the palm of his hand. After seven years of only seeing your face in photographs and feeling your presence through the words preserved in letters hidden in some drawer of his room, he finally had you near.
Now, he could have you for himself, and he knew that with his presence, the one thing you wouldn’t lack was the fulfillment of those dreams you had fought so hard for—dreams that had been so difficult simply because you were born a woman.
Seishiro promised to give you the world you had been denied by the blinding grasp of your parents, who were shackled by prejudice and societal opinions. You would not be a mere plaything, nor just a wife confined to the house, tending to children with no aspirations beyond that limit. You would be his, caring for his children while living in the world he vowed never to take from you—a freedom as boundless as a bird’s wings. Just as you had when the two of you ran through the valleys, carefree and unburdened by thoughts of what the future might hold.
"stay with me, i don't want you to leave." - nagi seishiro
:x a relationship that was doomed from the start.
k. - cigarettes after sex
nagi seishiro never tried. he never tried at anything at all. be it studies, social aspects or even just living productively. all he did was play games, and laze around like there was nothing in the world better to do. despite not trying, he still did well for everything. soccer; he never bothered to make an effort, but managed to be the top scorer and carried his team to win the tournament in his hometown. studies; he never studied, slept in all of his classes. literally ALL. but somehow, he always managed to get the second highest grades in the school, the first being his best friend, reo. nagi never tried, but excelled at everything, that was why he'd expected everything to come his way, without putting an ounce of effort.
which is why he's so confused right now.
you, bold and daring, never one to shy away from confronting someone, stood at him, glaring. nagi thought you were a try hard. he hated try hards. why put in effort in things? he saw no point.
so why was he trying so hard to convince you to stay?
his hand gripped your wrist, holding you back from walking away from him. his white locks fell down his face, almost obstructing his view of you. nagi wanted to keep you in his sight, never to let you leave it. he doesn't know why he's trying so hard. holding onto your wrist like a string that if pulled away, lead the rest of the woven tapestry to fall apart. his orb of eyes stared at you, usually never had a spark, only with you.
a small frown formed on nagi's face, one that never bore any emotion.
"please, stay."
nagi said those words determinedly, without an ounce of boredom, which he would usually mindlessly speak out to have you by his side. this one was full of determination, no random muttering of "hassles" or any sighs, just pure hope and desire for you to stay.
you, on the other hand, stared at him with dismay. you tried to wrench your hand away from his, but no avail, his grip was tight. the face you loved, you still do, but you have to leave.
nagi and you were in a relationship for 3 years, and it was bliss at the start. but within those three years, you'd realized that nagi never tried. how foolish of you, to assume he would change since he'd told you he would. it's common sense that nagi never tried at anything, but you'd never thought it would go to this extent. most of the dates you went with him, wasn't even with him. you'd wait at the entrance of a restaurant, all dolled up, and seat at your specially reserved seat for two. you'd wait and wait, but nagi would never arrive.
frustrated and humiliated, you would sit in your seat looking your best for someone who didn't bother. munching slowly on the food, you would have eaten with him, black tears from ruining your mascara would slowly slide down your cheek. that's not all, unfortunately. when you arrived back home, nagi would be lying down on your shared bed with him, sleeping or playing video games. he'd completely forgotten about the date that you were so excited about. you wanted to convey your frustration to him, at least let him understand how betrayed you felt after that. but nagi always brushed it off, saying mere things such as "oh, i slept in." or "it was kind of a hassle anyway, we can do the date another time." never fully embracing your true emotions.
nagi would notice that you were angry at him, then coax you to forgive him by suddenly caring and being affectionate with you, just completely invalidating the anger you had every right to have. he always expected to get what he wanted without actually having to earn it, and you became a victim of it.
at home, he never cleaned anything, leaving all the work to you. when you came home after an exhausting day at work, you were faced with a messy home and a lazing boyfriend. but somehow, you always forgave nagi, since you couldn't resist his beautiful face staring back at you while he murmured insincere "sorries".
slowly, the feeling in the pit of your soul grew, and eventually you couldn't handle it anymore. you told him you wanted to talk, and you broke the words to him.
"i don't think we can do this anymore."
nagi's eyes finally lifted off his video game, and to you. a tinge of confusion was clear in his eyes, and you could tell he thought you were joking. his face, still void of proper emotion, started make it's way to turn back to his game, but nagi stopped it.
the silence engulfed the room you two once shared loving memories with, now filled with tension and disbelief. the silence made it's answer, and nagi finally looked at you, with pure emotion in his eyes alone.
"are you joking with me?"
his voice, monotoned, but was different from his usual, it had the feel of disbelief and sarcasm, as he didn't believe you were serious.
nagi didn't know what he wanted you to do in that moment, maybe a smile come over your face as you hug him, muttering that it was all a joke. but your face remained serious and stoned, giving no sign of a joke being played out.
your brows were furrowed, and lips were pursed, occasionally twitching to hold back the sadness you wanted to let out. nagi's eyes widened slowly, as he realized, you really weren't joking anymore. he straightened up, his hand making way to yours.
and that's how you found yourself in this situation.
nagi's hand grabbed onto yours, determined to not let you leave without a proper explanation. his usually dazed eyes stared at you attentively, bringing back a light into his eyes.
the face you love stared back at you, and you resist the urge to cup his face and give in to him, tell him that everything is fine, it was all a joke.
but you can't.
you don't want to be trapped in this endless cycle of empty promises and apologies, gaslighting and forgiveness though your heart tells you not to. this has to end.
"nagi, i told you already. i don't think this can work out anymore."
you grab his hand, and pull it away from you. it physically hurts you to say those words, but if you didn't, who will?
nagi lets your words sink in, a pain in his heart as you say it twice. what did he do wrong?
actually, nagi would be lying if he said he had no clue what he did wrong. he knew. he knew that coaxing you with affection would let you forgive him, he knew that he depended on you, but made it seem like you depended on him. he knew about those dates, but always brushed it off, he knew if he'd left the house messy and untidy, you'd feel obliged to clean up after him. he knew that if he gave you just enough love and affection, you'd stay.
nagi knew.
all those little actions that made you feel you had to stay with him and care for him wasn't just because of his laziness. he knew it'll make you stay. he knew he didn't need to try hard, or even try.
so why is he on his knees, begging you to stay?
nagi's knees hit the soft fabric of the rug in the bedroom, holding onto your leg. his face stared at you, what used to be a void of emotion, was now a collage of an uncountable amount of emotions altogether. all of which begged, just begged you to stay.
"stay with me, i don't want you to leave."
nagi's hand was on your thigh, and you face looked down at his. nagi's lips pursed, as if to hold back any emotion from coming out.
"please, stay. i'll change. i promise. i don't know what i did wrong, but i'll change. for you."
still, he played dumb. he'd lied, thinking that it could coax you to stay with him. you weren't dumb though, you'd used to push it off, but not anymore.
"no, nagi. i said it thrice, and i'll say it again. this won't work out."
your voice stood stable, however an audible but faint underlying feel of pity and regret could be heard. nagi's eyes widened like never before, and his mouth parted slowly. it stung to hear it four times, but he was persistent.
slowly, he stood up, holding your face in his hands, towering over you. he clutched your free hand tightly, a seal of his emotions.
"i promise, i'll really change."
this promise wasn't fully hollow, but there was barely any inch of sincerity. continuously, he spouts empty promises, but your mind has set already.
it hurt your heart so much to even tell him that the relationship that was once so full of love had come to this. it hurt you to see him beg on his knees, just for you to stay with him. but you couldn't take it any more.
you pushed him away roughly, his towering shadow over your face stumbled away. it pained you to see him this distressed. but you had to do it.
"nagi. this isn't going to work out."
you pushed your way through his body covering the door, as you made you way out of the bedroom to the entrance of the shared apartment now void of the love you two used to share. you knew nagi did love you, but you hated how he made it seem like he didn't, you hated how he always managed to get you to forgive him just by giving the right amount of love and attention. and you were done with it.
until he blocked the exit you were planning to make with his body once again.
"i'm sorry, i really am. please, give me a chance to change. you know i can't live without you."
then why did he always make it seem like he could live without you? like you were just an object to him.
you couldn't resist the urge, and you cupped his face one last time.
"nagi, i know that. but i gave you many chances to change already. if you can't live without me, then you should have acted like it. not just give me love and affection just so i forgive you, so that i can once again just clean up after you and take care of you."
somehow, you'd managed an apologetic smile, laced with spite, that he should have tried more. if he can try this hard to get you to stay, he should have tried harder to actually love you.
you push him away and open your apartment door.
"nagi, this is it. i'm done. goodbye."
with that, you turned to face him one last time. the face you love loved, stared at you with regret and despair. you managed a weak nod back to him, your face tinted with sadness, as tears slowly flowed down your cheeks, before you turned away and walked out.
nagi found himself back on his knees, staring at the entrance of the apartment where you had just been. his hands grabbed at his face, letting out a low groan.
he should have tried harder.
maybe then this wouldn't have happened.
he'd relied too much on you, and now you were gone.
he'd taken for granted your presence, the lack of warmth next to him already bothering him.
nagi never cried before. the last time he did was due to a big yawn he let out during class. no tears he shed bore any emotion.
so, for the first time in his life, a string of pearly tears full of regret welled up and slid down his cheek.
he begged for you to stay once again.
male manipulator nagi
K.- cigarettes after sex
a/n: i think im going to make a part two of this!!
★⚽️₊⊹ ᰔ °⋆ waiting room | seishiro nagi
wc 911 angst/no comfort, pining!reader, nagi’s a lil mean… part 2 here !
if you were a waiting room, i would never see the doctor. i would sit there with my first aid kit and bleed.
you were stuck here. stuck in the background. stuck behind the lights. stuck waiting for him.
you pushed and he pulled away. you were always following after him and reo. giving him snacks. letting him rest his too large body on your smaller one.
you would smile up at him, eyes shining, face beaming. and he would barely give you a blank once over. bored. uninterested.
you got more chocolate this year for white day. it made you happy. you gave it to seishiro, because he never gets any. he didn’t even say thanks. just hummed.
he didn’t notice that you gave him a note. he balled it up with chocolate wrappers. he didn’t care that you rejected three guys. why would that affect him? too much of a hassle to think about it.
but, you couldnt give up. maybe he just didn’t know you were interested. maybe…. maybe he would come around.
so you stuck by him and reo. you would play whatever video game that he needed a duo, whatever silly obby he couldn’t beat. you were there.
there when people talked about him. there to defend him. there to tell those guys you rejected that seishiro was a 10x better guy than they ever could be.
seishiro just shrugged it off, leaning on reo and walking away.
i wanna be the power ballad that lifts you up and holds you down. i wanna be the broken love song that feeds your misery.
you were stuck. stuck in what felt like purgatory. you told seishiro you liked him, your hair styled cutely, eyes looking up at him warmly, pouring your heart out to him.
you told him that you wanted to be there for him. always. not just as a friend. that you wanted to be the one to give him hugs and hold his hand, be the one he could lean on forever.
he sighed. sighed. his grey eyes, devoid of any interest looked down at you, like they were looking through you, like he was staring at the ground. like you were a speck of dirt that dirtied his shoes.
he told you feelings were a hassle. just play video games with him and be happy.
so thats what you did. trailed after him and reo, still. stayed close to him even though your heart was breaking. even though you felt your throat close up every time he leaned on you.
even though you wanted to kiss him every time his bored eyes looked at you a little too long. even though you wanted to jump in his arms as he lazed in your bed, like it was his own.
he was emotionally stumped. he probably thought that was normal. (was it normal? were you overthinking? did normal friends do that?)
it was fine. this was fine. at least you got to be near him. at least he was still here. maybe…. maybe he would think about it again?
maybe one day, when you were laying side by side on your full sized bed, watching eternal sunshine of the spotless mind, he would lean over and kiss you?
fat chance.
and i can wish all that i want, but it won’t bring us together.
reo stopped you one day, when you were about to walk home with seishiro.
“you need to move on. i dont like seeing you hurt.”
he spoke softly, his purple eyes looking down into yours, pitying you. you cried as he awkwardly rubbed your back, trying to comfort you.
seishiro watched you two with boredom, before he hopped on reo’s back and went home with him instead. crying was a hassle. reo gave you another pitying look as he carried seishiro away.
you walked home alone. hot tears pooling down your cheeks. reo was right. but you didn’t want him to be.
“seishiro, do you think… you could ever like me? the way that i like you? that we could be.. together?”
you asked him one day, laying in your full sized bed, his head on your lap, as you watched eternal sunshine of the spotless mind for the third time this week. your hands combed through his white locks, lightly massaging his scalp.
his closed eyes opened at your words. his lax form slowly sat up, but was still hunched over.
“no. probably not.” he shrugged, his bored, grey eyes staring into your glossy ones, like he could see right through you.
“thought i told you to just play video games with me and be happy? cmon let’s finish the movie. this talk is a hassle.” he yawned, eyes closing again.
you nodded at him, as he layed his head back on your lap, nuzzling into the warmth of your body. your hands found their way back into his hair.
you cried silently. cried as you watched joel and clementine find their way back to each other. cried as they chose to try again, despite the bitter memories they had once erased.
cried as you looked down at seishiro’s sleeping face, resting so comfortably against you. cried as you fell asleep with the love of your life in your bed, but so far away. cried knowing he would never want you the way you wanted him.
plus i know whatever happens to me, i know it’s for the better.
˚⋆𐙚｡authors note𖦹.ᡣ𐭩˚ — i love nagi sm 💔💔 my cutie silly lazy boy 💔💔 this just came to my mind so wanted to write it!!
It's painfully evident to anyone with two working eyes that Reo likes you.
Reo excels in almost anything, except hiding his devastatingly pathetic pining towards you. It's etched across his face, woven into his body language, and discernible even in his speech. It's embarrassing to the point that even someone as detached and inattentive as Nagi can discern it from a mile away.
Well, it’s not that hard to tell when Reo looks at you as though you've adorned the night sky with every sparkling star.
Nagi sometimes wonders if Reo even knows it himself. You weren’t any better too, always so oblivious of the lovesick fool fawning at everything you do — yet stealing glances when you’re certain the purple-haired isn’t looking.
Nagi had become an inadvertent witness to countless moments, each one screaming of the unspoken connection between you and Reo. From stolen glances across the classroom, where your eyes would meet, sparking a silent understanding, to the subtle brush of hands as you passed each other notes.
Watching you both tiptoe around your feelings is painful, especially considering that the two of you are the closest things Nagi has to friends.
Maybe some minor intervention wouldn’t be a hassle, Nagi reasoned.
“I like you, Y/N,” and so, he falsely confesses, purposely doing so while Reo stands just a few steps behind you.
Nagi observes your frozen reaction to his declaration, your bag hanging mid-air, frozen before settling on your shoulders. He notices the widened eyes and slightly agape mouth. Above all, he sees the color drain from Reo's face and the slight twitch of his eye in shock. At least he knows his plan is working.
A moment lingers, and you recover from the shock of his confession, still blissfully oblivious to Reo's presence in the room. “Sei... I-I'm sorry. I like someone else.”
I know, he says in his mind. He doesn’t say anything, prompting you to say more.
“I’m sorry, Sei. I like Reo.”
And there it goes.
Realization, relief, and everything in between coloring Reo’s face behind you. Reo has always worn his feelings in his sleeves— too transparent and too obvious.
“I know. I don’t like you,” Nagi admits to you, “I said it because he’s behind you.”
For the second time, you freeze at his words. The urge to turn and confirm or deny his statement tugs at you, but the fear of confronting Nagi's unerring honesty prevails.
Nagi Seishiro never lies unless he admits he does. Lying is too much of an effort, honesty is easier, he reasons.
You weigh your choices. Honestly, you'd rather be the butt of Nagi’s jokes than to face Reo if he’s really behind you. And so, you make your decision. Instead of turning to confront the embodiment of your unrequited feelings, you bolt for the door, leaving the two men to exchange silent glances.
“It's a lie?” Reo's voice breaks the silence.
“Yeah,” Nagi confirms. “Why aren't you going after them—”
Reo interrupts him with a confession, “I wouldn't know what to do if you liked them, too.”
I know, Nagi thinks again, staring at Reo before shrugging and collecting his belongings from the table.
“It will be a pain, I guess.” he shrugs again before finally turning his back to Reo to leave the classroom.
Suppose it's a good thing— it's a good thing Nagi doesn't wear his feelings on his face like you do, Reo.
Because it will really be a pain, indeed.
note. idk what this is but i present to you: pining reo written in nagi's pov or... i guess it could be more than that 🤷🏻♀️ (wrote this back in september pls throw the tomatoes gently)
