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A soft scent of smoke woke Hajime. He was, by nature, a light sleeper, so it didn't really take much for him to jolt out of bed, his mind already racing with the worst possible scenarios. Thankfully, at the very least, he couldn't see any fire in his room as he looked around through still-bleary eyes.
But if it's not here... then where is that smell coming from?
Hajime stumbled to his feet, shivering a little at the cold cottage floor. He hurriedly wrenched on a pair of pants (because, well, he was at least awake enough to not want to run outside in his boxers) while stifling a yawn because if something insane is happening again I've got to stop it as soon as possible-
He tried to clear his mind to focus on the task at hand as he finally stepped out of his cottage. The scent was stronger outside, the acrid vapor mixing with brisk seaside air, and it didn't take long for his racing eyes to catch onto the cottage it was coming from. It was the only one with smoke seeping out from beneath the door and dim light in the shuttered windows.
Nagito's...
Fuck.
Whatever the Ultimate Lucky Student was up to now, Hajime had no mind for it---but that of course also meant he still had to stop it.
At least if nobody's woken up yet, I can deal with it alone, he thought, perhaps feeling a little excessively grateful. But it was warranted. He wasn't in the mood for any more traitor allegations, nor for interacting with his remaining classmates as a whole.
Especially after the way they had looked at him upon hearing what Nagito said.
"Come on! You're supposed to be the symbols of hope. Well, except for Hajime, of course."
It figured that he was unremarkable and talentless. After all, he was the only person on the island unable to remember their talent in the first place. If he had one of those gifts, it wouldn't have made sense for him to simply forget about it, regardless of whatever amnesia was plaguing him. His classmates' talents were intrinsic parts of each and every one of them---there was no way they could have forgotten something like that. So maybe a part of him had already known.
Didn't mean that finally hearing those words hadn't stung.
Begrudgingly, Hajime shook his pervasive thoughts from his mind and trudged over to Nagito's cabin. A dim orange glow glimmered out of the windows, flashing and flickering erratically.
No mistaking this for anything but a fire, Hajime sighed as he started to try the door---only for the handle not to budge. The locks. Damn it. So I have to get in some other way.
He really hated the idea of putting in so much effort to stop (or potentially save) Nagito. The guy had only caused everybody trouble their entire time on Jabberwock Island, but Hajime was not going to deal with another class trial. Not yet. So he didn't have much of a choice.
After stepping back a few paces, Hajime ran at the cottage door, ramming his shoulder into it. It hurt. Though it didn't help that in his bleary worry he hadn't put on a shirt. The prick of wooden splinters into his shoulder was bound to leave a mark if he kept doing this, but he really had no choice.
I'm not doing this again, nobody's dying again, I'm gonna get him out of here. With a grunt, Hajime stepped back again and again, slamming into the door until-
"HAGH-!" he scream-yelped as the door crashed in, Hajime stumbling inwards alongside it. The room before him was awash in the shining glow of flame, almost all of it stemming from the bed to the left of him. Two of the curtains hanging on the corners were on fire, and it looked as though the wood bedframe (still holding a sleepy Nagito, who was only just beginning to stir) was probably the source, with flames licking and creeping up from beneath.
Without thinking, Hajime rushed forward and grabbed Nagito by the forearm, practically dragging him out of the firey bed.
"H-Haji-" started Nagito as he stumbled forward from the bed, heaved away from the cottage by Hajime. He weighed almost nothing, Hajime realized as he yanked the half-asleep boy tripping on his own feet out. Nagito had always looked weak, but actually grabbing him-
He feels sickly. Like what he told me. But this wasn't the time to be wondering if what Nagito had said about lymphoma and dementia was really a lie, he knew.
"What did you do?!" Hajime half-growled, half-cried out as the two stumbled out of the broken-open door.
"Huh? I..." Nagito looked behind him to the glowing cottage, the orange shining in his light eyes. "Oh? Hm, I wonder..." He looked almost contemplative staring at it, his mouth slightly agape and his brow furrowed.
"You set a fire?" shouted Hajime. "What the hell?!?"
"Me?" Nagito wondered, looking over to Hajime, his eyes lazily tracing him over. "Ah, no. I didn't. But it figures that some stupid shirtless reserve course student would make that mistake, heh."
Whatever profanity was about to come out of Hajime's mouth was cut off at Sonia's yelp.
"Oh my! Why is Nagito's cottage on fire?"
Sonia, alongside everyone else (aside from Chiaki, because Chiaki), had started to head out of their cottages, likely awoken either by Hajime's yelling or the slowly worsening stench of smoke.
"He," Hajime said while he gestured to the white-haired boy standing next to him (who he was really resisting the urge to punch), "started a fire for some insane reason. Like usual."
"Man, what the hell," sighed Kazuichi. "I mean, I know we shouldn't tie him up again, but-"
"You probably shouldn't believe what he says," smiled Nagito. "I didn't start the fire. His brain must be muddled from smoke and a lack of talent, because I already told him that." Hajime whipped his gaze towards Nagito at that, anger jabbing at his chest.
"Oh you fu-"
He was yet again cut off, this time by the sound of a blaring siren. Out of nowhere (as was customary of the bear), a massive firetruck began ramming down the docks, headed by Monokuma. Everyone quickly jumped out of the way, lest they get trampled by the bear's reckless path.
"Puhuhuhu, looks like something caught fire!" giggled Monokuma as the truck screeched to a halt. "Was this a failed murder attempt? Aw, what a bummer. We needed some fast pace after that drag at the Octagon!"
Before anybody could respond, the black-and-white bear leapt into action, using the firetruck to douse the fire (which had by now started to creep onto the cottage walls) with equally impressive and terrifying speed. Hajime found himself wondering for the hundredth time what Monokuma could even possibly be as he watched the fire be vanquished, leaving behind only the destroyed interior and scorch marks across the walls.
"That's a shame," murmured Nagito at he peered into the burnt mess. "I had some really important stuff there." No one was apt to ask what exactly was important to Nagito, because it was Nagito.
Probably something insane like a knife or a clump of one of the victim's hair, Hajime shuddered.
"Alright!" cheered Monokuma, back atop the fire truck. "That's that! Y'know, if you guys want to destroy property like this, you should at least make it a successful murder. Now go back to bed, you dirty curfew-breaking rascals!"
And then he was off, fire truck crashing away as the students once more leapt out of its path, leaving everyone's mouths agape and full of questions. Unfortunately, Nagito was the one to ask the most pressing.
"Huh. Where should I sleep then?"
It was, as much as Hajime hated to admit it, a fair question. The cottage, especially the bed, was ruined. And not only would it have felt weird letting Nagito into one of their dead classmate's cottages to sleep, they couldn't have done so anyways with the locked doors and Monokuma long gone.
"Whaddaya mean?" asked Akane. "Looks fine to me."
"Yeah, that's- no," sighed Kazuichi. "Someone should just keep him in their cottage so that way he doesn't go burning anything." Silence, as expected, fell over the group. Nobody's volunteering for that hell, thought Hajime. Except Kazuichi's eyes had turned towards him. And Hajime could see his freaky-shark-teeth start to form words.
"Hajime! How about you do it!"
Of course he moves to sacrifice the reserve course kid. But Hajime was not giving into whatever flawed logic of Kazuichi's had gotten him to this conclusion. "What?" he exclaimed. "Why the hell should I have to let him in my cottage?!"
"Uh, well- he's kind of, less likely to go hope-crazy around ya. Right? So maybe..." Kazuichi looked a little bashful (as he should, because what the hell is that supposed to mean?), with his eyes averted from Hajime's ticked-off gaze. Somehow, miraculously, he was making Nagito come off as only the second most annoying person there.
"It is fine Kazuichi. I will let him share a cottage with me," Sonia interjected, to which Kazuichi's eyes widened in what was probably the most despair-filled look Hajime had ever seen on the mechanic's face. "After all, hospitality is a value of Novoselic! I must exemplify the values of my kingdom and-"
"NO!" screamed Kazuichi, stunning everyone into silence. His face quickly straightened as he cleared his throat. "I just mean, um, M-Miss Sonia, well a guy and a girl shouldn't um"---his pitch rose to a comically high whisper---"sleep... together?"
"Why don't we just throw this bastard in the motel and deal with him tomorrow?" Fuyuhiko suggested through a yawn. He looked fed up with this entire late-night mess---and, somehow, he was the only one there Hajime agreed with. At least someone is making sens-
"What a hopeless solution," groaned Nagito. "Really? You expect me, an Ultimate, to do that while a reserve course student stays here?"
"Better you burn that down than the cottages with everyone else in them," grumbled Hajime under his breath. "Whatever. I've done enough tonight rescuing him, so you guys can figure this out." He turned to head back to his cottage, ignoring Kazuichi's pleas of "dude, it's totally fine, just let him in there for the night and we'll fix this tomorrow!" and the sense of Nagito's eyes on his back as he did so.
Hajime half-collapsed onto his bed once he was inside. Everyone was being incredibly irritating. Or maybe he was just irritated by everything right now.
Shit sucks, he groaned to himself, finally becoming aware of the aching pain in his shoulder as he rolled over onto his pillow to try and fall back asleep. Maybe I should've just left him to die if he was going to be an asshole about it.
His respite of peace only lasted a few minutes, however, before a knock on his door shoved him out of the almost-sleep state he had been lying in.
Not answering not answering not answering not answeri-
The door creaked open. Because he hadn't locked it. Because why would he expect something to go right tonight of all nights.
Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu-
"Hey, Hajime?"
Hajime tensed at the voice. Cool. So now I'm going to die tonight, too.
Actually, he'd probably consider it a waste of effort. Jackass.
Exasperated, he swung himself up to a half-sitting position on the edge of the bed, tired eyes meeting Nagito's wide green ones.
"Kazuichi said it would be fine for me to just go in here."
Of course he did. "And I already said you can find somewhere else to sleep. I'm not dealing with a second fire."
"But I didn't set the fire." Why was that the one thing Nagito was actually consistent about?
"Okay, then I'm not dealing with whoever did set the fire when they come back to finish the job. So g'nite. Find somewhere else to sleep." Hajime started to shift as though he was going back to bed, even though he knew the instant Nagito left the doorframe he would bolt back to lock it.
Nagito ignored Hajime's movement and stood in silence for a moment. The dappled moonlight gave him a particularly strange shadow spanning across Hajime's room, and the shadow remained still for a solid twenty seconds before finally speaking again. "Where do you think I should go Hajime?" he asked. He sounded like he was genuinely curious. It was always all or nothing with him, Hajime supposed. The Ultimate Lucky Student either knew everything or nothing at all---and he managed to muck things up either way.
"Not my problem," sighed Hajime. "Go sleep at Hotel Mirai or something again."
Even in the poor lighting, Hajime could see Nagito's face flicker strangely, before it fell into one of his awkward smiles. "Ah, that's- a good idea, it's a wonder none of the Ultimates thought of it before a useless reserve course student, that's truly shocking that you could think of that Hajime, I'd say I had underestimated you but you truly are a steppi-"
"God, fine," Hajime spat out. He wasn't dumb. He could hear the uncharacteristic tremor in Nagito's voice. The guy was an asshole, sure, but that didn't mean he deserved to spend the night in the same place where he had been chained up and starved.
"...ing stone... for... hm?" He could see Nagito blink at him a few times, eyes as wide as ever. "But-"
"Close the door," groaned Hajime. "You can sleep on the couch."
Nagito stood still yet again, this time in shock, before it seemed like the gears in his head shifted and he hurriedly stepped all the way inside, shutting the door behind him.
"W-wow Hajime," he sputtered, "your kindness is a beacon of light in a hopeless world, I cannot believe that you have gone out of your way to show me this kind of light not once but twice ton-"
"Stop rambling," interjected Hajime. "And what do you mean twice? I'm letting you stay on my couch because someone burnt down your cottage. It's not a 'beacon of light' or whatever." He probably should have maintained his stance that Nagito had burnt the cottage down, however, because at his admission he could see the lucky student perk up a tiny bit.
"Well, you said you rescued me," Nagito responded, smiling with his eyes bearing down Hajime---who was now starting to feel self-conscious under his classmate's gaze, in part because he still didn't have a shirt, and in part because of something else turning in his gut. "You went out of your way to rescue a life as pointless as mine. And now you are letting me stay here. That is-"
"Go to sleep." Hajime got up without a second glance towards the other and started walking to the bathroom to find something to wear---because night sweats be damned, he was not sleeping in the same room as Nagito Komaeda partially nude. Nagito scurried out of his way, running to the couch as Hajime shut the door behind him.
All he could hope for, as he tugged on the only non-button-down shirt he had, was that Nagito would be able to shut up for the next few hours. I just wanna sleep, Hajime bemoaned to himself, staring at his reflection in the dark bathroom mirror. Really should have just left the fire to be dealt with by somebody else.
But he knew he couldn't have done that.
Silently, Hajime stepped back out into his room, eyes catching on Nagito who was curled up strangely on the couch. Figures he sleeps weird too. With a sigh, he sat down on the foot of the bed, his head in his hands while it was weighed down by all of the exhaustion and nonsense of the last few days. He didn't notice Nagito shift to peek up at him from over on the couch until a rasping voice cut through the silent room.
"Hajime."
"What," Hajime breathed out as barely a question, his eyes still to the ground.
"Um, I don't want to be bothersome, but do you have any blankets?"
"No," Hajime sighed.
"Ah, that's alright, a pathetic worthless person like me doesn't deserve one." Hajime's eyes rolled back in exasperation---can he talk normally for once?---, and before he knew what he was saying-
"Sleep on the bed if you want one that bad."
He had no real idea why he said that. Maybe it was the culmination of sleep-deprivation and stress. Or a last ditch attempt to make Nagito shut his mouth. Or something else that Hajime couldn't quite understand.
It had at least worked, if the goal was to get Nagito to be quiet. He was silent over on his side of the room, probably still staring Hajime in that weird way of his. They both stayed like that for a little while, as if they were waiting for something, but Hajime's mind wasn't clear enough to determine exactly what that was.
"If you're sure," Nagito replied, breaking the silence. Oh. That was what he had been waiting for. For Hajime to rescind the offer. Because he was supposed to rescind the offer to let Nagito share a bed with him holy shit why d-
The weight shifting on the foot of the bed broke Hajime's train of thought as he realized Nagito had sat down next to him. Like he was mirroring him, instead of just laying down right away.
"If you try to spoon me or some shit, I'll kill you and then myself," Hajime mumbled, his eyes still trained on the floor. What was he supposed to do now? Shove the guy to the floor? Nagito could be a jerk plenty of the time, but Hajime almost desperately wanted to prove he was different, better, than that asshole, despite his non-existent talent. So he couldn't exactly do much now.
"But that would be a pointless death for y-"
"Exactly. So don't do it."
"But if you just killed me-"
"Double or nothing. What, are you planning on spooning me?" And that shut Nagito up even better.
"...no," he eventually started, "since, after all, I can't die yet. Not when the traitor is still out there. My plan is gone though. So I don't know how I'm supposed to die anymore."
...supposed to?
Something about that sent a shiver down Hajime's spine. Part of it was the horror of Nagito's words, but the other part was how he said them. Dryly. Casually. Like it didn't matter that he was apparently meant to die.
"You planned on dying?" Hajime asked, bewildered as he finally turned his gaze up to look at the lucky student next to him.
"Ah, well, I planned on being killed. To rid us of this despair. To find the traitor."
It was quiet for a while. Hajime continued to stare at Nagito's profile, which really wasn't revealing anything. It stayed straight, his eyes focused ahead, looking more regretful that he couldn't die now rather than sad, or scared, or anything remotely normal.
"I still can't understand that you saved me." Nagito's words finally broke the silence.
"We're all getting out of here. Everyone that's left. We'll figure it out without whatever... plan you had." Hajime's answer was mumbled and quiet. He kind of felt bad for Nagito, which was a first.
Actually, it wasn't. He had felt a weird pity mix in his heart whenever Nagito had started to open up about his past as well. His parent's death, his illnesses... Nagito probably would have hated knowing Hajime felt like that, would have said it was a waste of emotion for a "pointless, useless person" such as himself.
"Thank you. For saving me, and letting me-" said Nagito, his voice uncomfortably earnest. Something shifted in Hajime's stomach at that.
"Yeah, I preferred when you were an asshole actually. Go back to hating me." He turned away from the still-unsettling look on Nagito's face. His habit of jumping erratically between moods still made Hajime uncomfortable, even thought it had been...
How long has it even been?
How long since this whole hell started?
"I don't hate you, you know." Nagito's words crashed into Hajime's train of thought. "I just think you're a lowly reserve course student!"
"Ah, that's even better," replied Hajime dryly, meeting Nagito's eyes once more. "And so starkly different too. You don't hate me, you just think that I'm worthless and talentless."
Nagito's head tipped, his lips slightly parted as though he were trying to plan his words. "But... there is a difference. If I hated you, wouldn't I also have to hate myself? I'm just another stepping stone for what's left of the hope in this world. Like you. That's why..." He trailed off, eyes slowly shifting down with that strange, almost vacant expression of his.
When he didn't continue, Hajime just sighed and fell back onto the bed. "Okay, whatever. I'm going back to sleep."
Nagito shifted back as well, mimicking him yet again. They crawled under the covers simultaneously, each trying to keep to as distinctively different sides of the bed as possible, Hajime because gross, Nagito probably because of the half-serious death threat.
Hajime's head faced away from Nagito, but he still couldn't ignore the other boy's presence. His soft breaths, the slight rise of the blanket towards his side of the bed. It even felt like Nagito's eyes were boring into Hajime's back, though he refused to check and possibly meet that wide-eyed stare, those pale green-
Just fall asleep. You can get away from him tomorrow morning.
"...hey, Hajime? Why did you save me?"
Hajime sighed a little at the break in the quiet, his head still turned away. "I already said why. The point is to not let anyone else die."
"But don't you think my life is worthless?"
"I... no." Maybe he wished that he could call Nagito worthless, the same way that he had heard countless times by now. But some part of Hajime couldn't bring himself to lie. He pulled further over to the side of the bed, trying to signal the end of their conversation (though it was probably pointless, Nagito was awful at social cues), before a cold touch to his shoulder and a tug on his shirt sleeve made him jerk up.
"W-" he gasped, turning and sitting up to look into Nagito's eyes, shining even in the dark room.
"Hajime. There's blood. On your shirt." He said it so matter-of-factly, his hands still holding Hajime's shirt sleeve, cold fingers delicately grazing his shoulder. Hajime's heart was thumping uncomfortably loudly in his ears.
"And?" Hajime asked, forcibly moving his shoulder out away from Nagito---though his classmate's hand remained in the air, as if held up by some invisible force.
(He hated how he sort of missed that cool touch against his scratched-up shoulder.)
"That was... because of me?"
"It was because of the door," Hajime sighed. "Seriously, just go to sleep."
"But shouldn't you clean it up? If it got infected from some splinters that would be a pretty pointless death." Nagito's expression was unreadable. Hajime had no clue whether or not he was being earnest about this in the slightest.
"I'll go to the store in the morning then," conceded Hajime, "since there's nothing here to clean it with. It's fine, Nagito."
But Nagito had already stood up from the bed, his slender frame in a boxy t-shirt shining in the moonlight.
"They have first aid kits in the cottages. Let me... um, let it be my thanks. For saving me." Now this felt strange. It was almost like when they had first met---Nagito's crazy-eyed subservience to anyone who symbolized hope, and the strange joy he seemed to take from the idea. Of course, now it was weird. Out of character even. Nagito had seemed so disdainful during their last class trial, not only to Hajime but to everyone. Hajime could only stare silently as he shuffled away to rummage around the bathroom.
Is he being honest? He's really that thankful?
Did he actually think I would have just let him die?
Nagito returned from the bathroom quietly, a first aid box in his hands as he sat down on the edge of the bed, Hajime shifting to sit next to him so his shoulder was of easy access. This wasn't worth fighting Nagito on. He rolled up the ill-fitting sleeve as best he could while Nagito dug through the kit, pulling out tools and bandages. It was still dark in the room, Hajime realized, but that hadn't seemed to deter Nagito at all.
Without a word, Nagito started to pick at the small splinters in Hajime's shoulder. It was incredibly awkward sitting in silence while the boy tended to him---but at the same time, it was probably the most peaceful the two had been in a while. Hajime was wary to break the silence and bring back Nagito's condescension.
It's not too bad, sitting here like this. I just have to not mess anything up, and then things will stay not bad.
So he was silent, even when Nagito accidentally pricked him with the tweezers or his mouth (which was very close to Hajime's shoulder, but I just have to keep it like this I won't make him move) let out a breath and sent goosebumps down the reserve course student's skin.
"Ah, sorry- the sleeve keeps falling down," Nagito said finally, pushing the sleeve back up Hajime's shoulder for the umpteenth time. His voice sounded genuinely apologetic, as though it was his fault that physics and a poorly-sized shirt existed.
"'S fine, just- here." Hajime dipped his head and simply pulled off the shirt, tossing it to the ground below them. At least this was easier. Besides, Nagito had already seen him without it earlier, so it didn't really matter. Or shouldn't have.
He watched as Nagito's eyes traced down his chest though, before the boy's face flushed and he quickly looked back to the first aid kit. Admittedly, it made Hajime feel a little happy (and maybe something else kicked in his heart, but he didn't want to point that out), seeing Nagito flustered like that. I guess the shirtless reserve course student isn't as stupid now, huh?
Plus it was a nice reminder that however strange he acted, Nagito was still human. He could still be awkward or blushing, not just insane and condescending.
The icy touch of Nagito's fingers returned to Hajime's shoulder, sending a shiver up his spine.
"S-sorry," Nagito mumbled, now not even meeting Hajime's eyes.
"It's okay. Really. Your hand feels nice against the bruise."
He could feel Nagito's hand trembling slightly, but it remained on Hajime's shoulder nonetheless. Hajime hadn't been lying. The cool sensation was sort of like an ice pack, only more delicate and tentative. Softly, Nagito dabbed at the wound with some kind of ointment that left a pricking burning on Hajime's skin, Hajime letting out a small hiss and biting his lip in response. He could see Nagito start to stare at that from the corner of his vision, wide eyes peering down Hajime's face rather than his shoulder. When Hajime turned to look back at him, however, he quickly buried his face back in the kit.
"Hey, Nagito?" Hajime wondered aloud as he watched Nagito rip open another cleansing wipe with his teeth---he seemed to be really set on leaving his hand on Hajime's shoulder, which Hajime wasn't going to complain about. "I was wondering... were you really lying before? About the lymphoma and stuff?"
"Mm," Nagito hummed, trying to act as though he was laser-focused on the task at hand. Hajime didn't buy it for a second.
"I don't get why you would lie about something like that---or lie about lying, for that matter."
"Maybe I didn't want to be so close to some reserve course student," Nagito said, though something about his tone didn't sell it. Especially considering just how close they were right now.
"But you didn't know that back then," pressed Hajime. "And... if that was the case, what did you mean by the rest of what you said?"
"Please, don't forget. From the bottom of my heart, I am truly in love with y- the hope that sleeps deep inside you."
Hajime hadn't known how to respond then. Or, whether he could even believe Nagito's words at the time. But for some reason, since Nagito had gotten to his cottage, they had been swirling around his mind endlessly.
"Oh, I don't recall what I said," Nagito rasped, still avoiding meeting Hajime's eyes as he continued to clean up the now-dried blood. "So it probably wasn't important. Don't put too much thought into words from someone as useless as me."
For some reason, Hajime didn't believe him.
He reached over with his free arm, his hand lightly grasping the side of Nagito's chin. An odd expression flitted over the Ultimate's face as he finally met Hajime's eyes. Not quite surprise, not quite curiosity.
"You said you loved the hope sleeping deep inside me." Their faces were close to one another, but Hajime wasn't willing to back away. Nagito's pale skin shone in the moonlight seeping through the cottage windows, his hair so bright it may as well have been a moon in itself. "Was- is that... still true?"
"I... shouldn't tell you." Which Hajime had a feeling meant yes.
"Why not?"
"You wouldn't want to know. And I don't want you to get caught up in my worthless mess. Even if you are just a talentless reserve student"---Nagito's breath hitched slightly---"y-... you don't deserve that. Besides, things have changed."
His words didn't burn the same as usual. Hajime's heart should have twinged at the reminder of how talentless he was, how his place and worth among his classmates was always less. That seemed to have been Nagito's goal in reminding him. But. It hadn't worked. It never really worked.
"I do want to know. And you know I want to. We've played this game before, Nagito. You... should know by now that no matter how hard you try and push me away..."
...
"...I'll always be there anyways."
Nagito had leaned forward at some point. Their noses were practically touching.
"Hajime... I can't understand you. Or... why I feel..." He trailed off, more words left unsaid. "...it was true, though. Is." Nagito's voice wasn't more than a whisper as he stared directly into Hajime's eyes.
Hajime's grasp on his classmate's face slowly shifted into more of a caress, reaching up into a wild mess of white hair and twirling a strand around his finger as Nagito shifted even closer. He was similar to Nagito in that way, in those disappearing words. He couldn't quite understand his feelings either. But they remained anyways. Undeniable, strong, a warmth kindling in his chest even at Nagito's cold touch.
He really liked Nagito looking at him like this. Eyes soft for once, kind in a way. He liked when Nagito wasn't trying to be mean---because he knew, really, that the other had been playing it up, but how could he call something like that out when he didn't have the faintest trace of understanding as to why?
It was obvious that Nagito wasn't saying something. A lot of something. He was keeping stuff hidden.
But Hajime had been quiet about things too, he knew.
This killing game had shown him how unassured tomorrow was time and time again. So with whatever grasp he could fathom, he had to cling onto today.
Slowly, softly, Hajime leaned in, his lips meeting Nagito's. It was tender, almost sweet, as though the both of them were afraid to satiate the hunger burning between them. The need between them.
Nagito's lips were dry, slightly chapped from how much he bit them. Which made Hajime feel a little stupid for noticing that. He hadn't realized just how many small things he had picked up on about Nagito, what tiny details had at some point or another drawn his eye. Like the way he fiddled with his belt chain when he stood idly, or twirled his fingers around in his hair whenever he was distracted--- the same hair Hajime's hands reached up into, carefully entwining within it like he was afraid Nagito would otherwise slip away.
One of Nagito's hands was still on Hajime's shoulder. There was something so sweet about that, so loving as he held it there while his other hand moved to cup Hajime's face, bony fingers pressing a delicious cold against blushing cheeks.
"Is this... okay?" Hajime murmured against Nagito's lips as he pulled away slightly. Their foreheads were leaning into each other, hands still wrapping themselves close together. From so close together, Hajime could see the small way his eyes twitched up at the question, how his pupils glimmered in the incandescent light, the way every detail of Nagito's face was ethereal, otherworldly.
"Always, Hajime," Nagito smiled softly. And for some reason it was the sensation of his own name being breathed against his lips that made the warmth in his chest start blazing, and he pressed back in.
Hajime shifted forward towards Nagito's lap, leaning far enough in that the boy beneath him fell back against the mattress. The first aid kit clattered to the ground, and Hajime felt a soft laugh against his lips as they separated for a moment, before Nagito pulled him back.
Nagito was arched into Hajime's bare chest, soft fabric pressing against his skin while Nagito's free hand traveled all across his back. It barely lingered, or scratched or pulled or grabbed. It was just there, like Nagito was trying to feel every part of Hajime, like he wanted to burn every ridge and irregularity on Hajime's skin into his memory.
Their mouths opened almost in unison, as though they really were two of a kind. Nagito's mouth was wet, and warm, and with each gasp between kisses Hajime felt himself fall apart a little more. He was drooling, desperate, mind hot and muddled and so wanting. He needed to catch his breath so badly, but for the life of him he couldn't bring himself to break apart the kiss. He wanted- needed- more.
His tongue pressed further into Nagito's mouth, and he savored the way that the boy beneath him shuddered a little bit at the force, savored the press of Nagito back, savored his tightening grip on Nagito's hips as his hands rode underneath the other's shirt.
Almost reluctantly, Hajime broke apart their kiss for a moment. "Can I...?" he asked softly, his hands already toying with the hem of Nagito's top. He wanted to be even closer, to press himself against that cold, pale skin. A small sound of affirmation came from Nagito, his lips still parted while his eyes remained trained on Hajime's mouth, making no attempt to hide his hunger. Hajime planted another quick kiss to Nagito's lips before tugging his shirt up, disheveling his hair even more as Hajime tossed the shirt off to the side and stared below him.
Sure, Hajime had seen Nagito shirtless before, but never like this. Certainly never while straddling him in a moonlit room surrounded by rumpled sheets and the faint scent of smoke still in the air. He fucking loved it---the faint trace of veins across the other's arms sprawled to the side, bony ribs poking out, near-translucent, shining skin, a map of small marks and scars most assuredly tied some way or another to Nagito's erratic luck. He looked radiant.
Hajime started to plant sloppy, wet kisses across Nagito's neck, the soft sighs coming from Nagito making his stomach flip. He wanted to kiss every inch of him, and hold him forever, and keep Nagito's skin in his mouth, and damn did he want to bite him---which was a weird thought to flit across his mind, he realized. But. He didn't hate it. Hajime had never done that before. And he still wanted to. Really wanted to. So without much thought at all he leaned forward to sink his teeth into the crook between Nagito's neck and shoulder and-
-oh my God he whined holy shit-
High pitched and uncontrolled and absolutely delicious to Hajime's ears. And it was weird but it felt so good. And that exactly described Nagito. And Hajime only wanted more, so he held on and sucked at the skin between his teeth and the tremor that he felt wrack up Nagito's body made his stomach flip and kick like nothing he had ever felt before. And he clung on a little longer, to relish in the moment, basking in the faint, salty taste of Nagito's sweat.
Carefully, Hajime released Nagito's neck from his mouth, staring for a moment at the quickly-purpling patch of skin. A part of him wanted to turn Nagito's entire torso that same shade, transform him into a mess of pink and purple bruises. He reached a hand forward, lightly grazing the spot, before a sound from Nagito made him freeze.
"M-more," he whispered through shaking breaths, "please, if you..."
Holy shit, he was begging.
An uncontrollable grin spread across Hajime's face. He was practically high off all of this. He leaned back in, but not before pressing his thumb into the first bruise, reveling in the way that Nagito's face tensed and his eyes squeezed and one of those weird smiles of his toyed at the edge of his mouth.
"Hah- ah, p-please, Hajime..."
Now that Hajime knew his weak spot, it wasn't hard to make Nagito fall apart into a whimpering, pleading mess.
He went in again and again, peppering the white-haired boy's skin with kisses and bites. The skin on Nagito's neck and collar was covered in a sheen of sweat and leftover spit, shining atop the darkened discoloration. Every guttural gasp and hitching moan made Hajime's head spin.
Hajime's hand moved to tilt Nagito's chin up as he looked greedily to the still-pale patch of skin at the angle between his neck and underjaw, but he took pause at the light grasp around his wrist. Curious, Hajime released Nagito's face and met his eyes, taking in the red-hot blush and shaky smile.
"...sorry," he breathed, "I just... wanted to look at you." Tears dotted the lucky student's eyes in that strange way of his, the way Hajime had noticed happened when he started acting strange at class trials or ranting about hope---but his eyes were clear of the glaze that so often accompanied those episodes. They shined, pupils clear as the island skies. They still saw Hajime.
Hajime started to respond, but his words were swallowed as Nagito leaned up, their lips meeting again while Nagito's arms wrapped around his neck. It was different than before, though. Tender again, sure, but Hajime could finally feel everything Nagito left unsaid piled up behind it. His hands snaked behind Nagito's back, holding him up at the strange angle they were tilted in as their mouths slowly parted.
"I don't... know how to say what I mean to you," Nagito admitted in a quiet voice. His eyes still glimmered with a faint trace of tears.
"But you still keep talking," Hajime replied with a soft smile and a peck to Nagito's lips. He pulled Nagito up to a straighter position while one hand reached up to brush the wet streaks from his eyes. "...You're really beautiful, y'know."
Nagito's eyes widened at that, staring at Hajime as if he expected to hear a laugh or "just kidding" following that. But when Hajime stayed silent, a shaky smile spread against his lips.
"You're beautiful too, Hajime. Not just the hope inside of you. Your face, too. I- I really like looking at you."
A stupid, boyish blush rose up Hajime's face and his heart fluttered, as though the two hadn't just been sloppily making out five seconds ago. He really liked hearing those things---from Nagito of all people, which he would have scoffed at a few hours ago. With his heart pounding in his chest, Hajime pulled Nagito into a tight embrace, nuzzling his face against the other boy's bitten and hickey-riddled neck.
"You know, when you came to save me," started Nagito as his arms wrapped around Hajime, the feeling of his breath soft against the other's hair, "there was a second where I would've been content to simply die a purposeless death, so long as your face was the last thing I ever saw. And then I thought for a moment that maybe I had died, and by some cruel trick of the heavens you were coming down with me. But I'm... glad that wasn't the case."
In response, Hajime buried his face deeper into Nagito, holding him tighter as he whispered, "I'm glad I was the one to save you." Something about Nagito made his heart ache. He didn't know what he would do if he lost him. For all the boy's talk about death and killing, his words had never cut as deep as right now.
"Please... don't leave me," Hajime added, even quieter than before. Nagito was silent for a while, and Hajime only clung on harder, ear pressed against the soft thrum of Nagito's pulse while he listened to every breath.
"I won't," promised Nagito finally. And so they stayed like that for a while longer, holding tight onto one another like the world would fall apart if they let go. Because maybe it would.
"Hajime," Nagito said, breaking the silence like usual, Hajime's name sounding so beautiful in his raspy voice, "how's your shoulder?" He slowly disentangled himself to take a peek, Hajime immediately mourning the sense of their bodies so close together. It hadn't hurt much in the first place, more the dull sense of a bruise and some small cuts, but the fact that Nagito had checked on it at all was so unbearably sweet.
"It doesn't hurt much," Hajime began to reply, "but"---and it was stupid, really, but he had said and done a lot of stupid things tonight so---"a kiss might make it feel even better."
A smile flitted across Nagito's face, and with no hesitation at all he leaned forward, cold lips pressing against the bruise. Hajime closed his eyes at the soft pressure, the slight twinge of pain. Even at the release of his lips, Nagito's head stayed low for a moment longer before his cheek pressed into Hajime's chest, the two falling back against soft pillows.
"This isn't spooning, right?" Nagito murmured, his head resting against Hajime's chest with a hand across his abdomen while Hajime lay flat across the bed.
"No," Hajime laughed softly.
"Good. I'd rather you didn't kill yourself." Hajime buried his face into Nagito's hair at that, a smile toying at his lips.
It felt nice to forget, with him. It felt nice to have a moment where nothing really mattered aside from the two of them. A place outside of time, outside of the killing game. Maybe Hajime was finally starting to understand this hope thing, because something beautiful was burning in his heart, passionate and unruly, and he knew somewhere deep down that he would do anything to keep it alive.
It was a while before they were able to fall asleep, despite the exhaustion clearly hanging over the both of them. Nagito still whispered small nothings into the quiet air, like he was afraid of letting the silence settle. But at least Hajime didn't mind anymore. The longer he was awake, the longer he would get to feel the flutter of Nagito's eyelashes against his skin and the light touch of his fingers as he traced nonsensical patterns across Hajime's torso. Eventually though, Nagito's breathing steadied and Hajime was alone.
Seaside wind drifted outside the cottage. Hajime had fallen asleep to the white noise countless times, letting it rock him away to a quiet dreamscape without the death and hot pink blood that pervaded his everyday life. But tonight, he much preferred to fall into the rhythm of Nagito's shallow breaths as the other boy lay over his heart.