Izuru sat in his usual seat, unreadable as ever. Nagito knelt before him, his chin resting against Izuru’s thigh. His breath came in uneven, shaky exhales, betraying the excitement thrumming through him. Being this close to Izuru was a privilege, one that made his heart race, and he would never take it for granted. Moments like these, where Izuru indulged him, were rare. But Nagito knew better than to mistake them for affection. This wasn’t kindness. Izuru was being selfish; he was merely humoring Nagito to cure his own boredom.

"Would you die if I asked you to?"

"Heh… You already know I wouldn’t mind being a stepping stone for hope," he murmured, not even needing to think before answering, his voice trembling slightly. Izuru’s presence was suffocating and overwhelming in the best possible way.

He had always known Izuru was cold and unfeeling. And yet, some desperate, foolish part of Nagito still clung to hope. Hope that if he proved his loyalty enough, if he surrendered himself completely, bent to Izuru’s will in every possible way, maybe, just maybe, he could earn even the smallest shred of Izuru's affection.