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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

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Title: you can (we will) be better

Author: dedfish on AO3

For: logicdive (twitter) Pairings/Characters: Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito

Rating/Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Prompt: Post-Game — I feel like DR3’s ending for the cast of SDR2 is really underutilized, so it would be cool to see something going off of that! What’s it like having all these personalities crammed into a boat together to float around the ocean for the foreseeable future? It’s gotta get tense sometimes. How’s the sleeping situation? There can’t possibly be that much room in there, so maybe Hajime and Nagito are… roommates? Do they ever get off of that boat, and what kind of problems do they face with most of the world still thinking that they’re Remnants of Despair? Ships can be pretty dangerous places too, I can definitely imagine something going wrong… Lots of opportunity for hurt/comfort and relationship growth!

Author’s notes: this fic is set right after dr3’s anime, as dr2 cast+mitarai(i cant remember lore anymore) set out to sea!

i hope you all enjoy this fic! and logicdive i hope you like it too!!! (ahhhh sorry for the late post, i am still paranoid about the quality)

enjoy the fic :DD!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52595074

The scent of the sea breeze was sharp and unforgiving against Hajime’s nose. When they made the Ultimate Hope, they didn’t exactly take any considerations for their new Izuru’s comfort, expecting a machine of pure talent. Expecting Izuru.

It wasn’t like any of those scientists had gotten their own payback in the Tragedy, and grudges weren’t meant for those already long dead—long gone to whatever hell they belonged. But his sharp senses—the feeling of coolness untouched by the pollution of the Despairs against the morning’s sun—was wonderful, for a short second. And then he turned around.

Teru had managed to convince the crew to haul out a grill on deck, of all things. The plans for a celebratory barbecue were obviously in the works, fondness escaped through a small smile, but for a second, he wished it wasn’t there, the smoke annoying.

What was he thinking? He was glad that his friends could even celebrate in the first place. Their weary smiles—all of them except… Chiaki—were worth it. Even if the scent was truly awful, fat sizzling with greasy coals.

Nagito’ s presence swished into being a couple feet away, and Hajime waited until his footsteps echoed closer, before he turned around slowly.

His hair—it truly looked like clouds—bobbed along with a muted, yet not any less, cheerful smile. Happiness suited him, and Hajime let a smile out in response, waving a little.

“A toast, Hajime?” He asked, nodding to the drinks beside him. But they were—

“Cider?” Hajime leaned forward, the apples and cinnamon delicious on the wind, a relief.

Nagito let his grin fall into a half-quirk of a small smile, “Of course. How lucky I guessed a drink you would like, huh?”

Hajime couldn’t think of anything to say besides a grateful, quick thanks, and gladly took it from his hands. The mechanical one whirred, almost soundlessly, as Hajime brushed against cold metal. Nagito noticed his look, and he sighed.

“Is it truly that unsightly, Hajime?” He questioned, leaning against the ship’s railing. His coat clinked against the metal.

“No, no, it’s great—I was just wondering if we need to do maintenance—” Hajime quickly tried to backtrack, feeling his ears go bright red. Hajime of all people, making others self-conscious—

“Haha, I’m just joking,” Nagito smiled, a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and he tilted his head against the sunrise, “but there you are.”

“Ah… that’s good,” the unspoken question hanging in the air between them. Hajime wondered if he asked, would it be too awkward?

“I was worried about you standing on the sidelines,” Nagito answered, surprisingly intuitive, “because, you know, you did great. And whenever Izuru used to be… bored, he looked like you.” He met Hajime’s eyes, before looking away.

“Thank you, Nagito. Really.” His denial hung at the end of sentence, but it would be a lie if he really didn’t just feel like an outsider. Just sometimes. “How much do you remember of… us? Me.”

“Enough.” He raised the glass to his lips, the light catching against crystals, and Hajime looked away. Hajime caught a sly smirk from the corner of his eye, and suspiciously glanced over, “I can, from what I remember—the hope inside of both of you, truly—it was fantastically—”

“Not again! Jeez, man. That came out of nowhere.” Hajime groaned, thunking his forehead against the railing, exasperatedly fond. He didn’t predict that today.

A chuckle rang out, low-toned but clear, besides him. Hajime tilted his head up, and watched the weak, golden sunlight play across his half-smiling, crescented seaglass eyes.

Beautiful. Wait, no, not like that! He firmly planted his face in his arms, determinedly ignoring his traitorous thoughts.

“I hope to surprise, Hajime,” Nagito’s elbow brushed against his. The ship slowly rocked against a wave, the sea’s spray crushingly loud. They had long sailed, and the journey away from the Foundation’s base had already been charted.

The silence was… nice.

And if Hajime could crystallize this moment—Ibuki’s laughter and Hiyoko’s dancing and Kazuichi’s whines and Sonia’s scolding with Tanaka’s musings for Imposter’s worry mixing into Mitarai’s giggles, Nagito’s contentment—it would be perfect.

He hoped this would be his future.

—

If Hajime had raised his head, or just looked up, he would see Nagito’s wistful tenderness, looking down on him.

He would see the slight, soft smile—but no, not yet. That was for the future too.

—

“Um, hey guys,” Hajime winced at how unsure he even sounded, “you… feeling good?” He glanced around the banquet table, attempting to plaster on confidence.

Everyone stared back at him. Hiyoko snorted, slapping Mikan’s shoulder.

“Are we a kindergarten class, you moron?” she grinned, lifting up an eyebrow.

“I certainly hope not,” Imposter whispered, barely audible. Mitarai weakly grinned and patted his shoulder.

“Ibuki feels amazing! This is a rocking boat!” Ibuki smiled, chin on her hands.

“Um… ah… yes? I agree?” Mikan uncertainly chimed in, still confused, with Hiyoko rolling her eyes.

Hajime sighed, smiling. He leaned back against the wall, and forcibly told himself to relax.

“Your complaints are noted, guys.” He briefly noticed Nagito’s white, fluffy hair from the corner of his eyes. Relax, Hajime, relax. You’re an Ultimate. “So, with the Future Foundation, we need to decide our next steps together. The way I see it, we can essentially go through with two options: Jabberwock… or back to Japan. Mixing both would be difficult, but also possible. I want all of our opinions to count.”

“Going back? But… we released that video… I mean, do I count? As part of you guys?” Mitarai asked, bags under his eyes seemingly deepening even further.

“We discussed this, commoner. Yes,” Imposter switched back to Byakuya, “you count as part of our class.”

“Yeah,” Haijime nodded, “you definitely count. The best way for us to figure this out is by discussion, but I think holding a vote would be helpful. Sonia, any suggestions?”

“Why, indeed! I think democracy is a novel idea that I certainly would love to experience!” Sonia’s eyes lit up enthusiastically, her smile beaming. However, her expression turned serious quickly. “Hajime, we should decide later, as we all, especially you, deserve rest.”

“Ha, yeah. I’ll… I mean, I think we had a good day today.” Hajime replied, a little sheepishly.

“And we’re back on a ship again!” Ibuki cheered, pumping up her hands. Chaos immediately descended, everyone’s chatter excited.

“How shall we decide on rooms?”

“Heh, how devilish. My Dark Devas and I desire to room with Sonia herself.”

“Huh? No way! We can room with the opposite gender? I refuse.”

“I AM FINE WITH WHOEVER! BAHAHAHA!”

“He’s gonna clog up our toilet again… anybody but him!”

They were kindergarteners.

“Guys,” Hajime sighed, “everyone can room with whomever they want. Not my business, but both parties have to approve. And first come, first serve for rooms.”

“Hajime… soul bro! I understand, I won’t let this chance slip by!” Kazuichi’s tears were a little excessive, but he marched off towards Sonia, obviously shooting to get a room with her.

The ruckus in the room reached new heights of noise, as everyone started pairing up. Hajime watched Tanaka and Kazuichi start arguing, and suddenly, he felt very, very tired. He slid down into a chair and felt a soft tap on his shoulder.

“Hey, you were pretty quiet today too,” Hajime cracked a small, sincere smile. Nagito rolled his eyes.

“I spared everyone the torture today.”

“No, we like hearing you talk.”

“We? I’m not sure if that’s true. Mahiru holds grudges, from what I remember, and I’m sure Fuyuhiko believes me to be strange. Oh—Teru can hate me, though.”

“Even so, that doesn’t mean we want you to shut up. They… changed, they don’t hate you,” because that would mean they would hate themselves for their actions too. “You can trust me when I say you should talk to them too. They’re pretty awesome.”

“Aha… I know. But you’re very kind,” Nagito responded quietly, “and… do you have a roommate yet?” Hajime looked up, opening his mouth to respond—

“Soul bro… you wanna room? Tanaka, that prick…” Kazuichi grumbled, dropping down next to him with a sigh. He looked incredibly disappointed. Hajime could guess what had happened.

“Kazuichi, I think I already have—”

Kazuichi’s eyes opened wide, jumping back and forth between Nagito’s hand and Hajime’s shoulder. A slow smile crept across his face.

“Oh. Ohhhh, I see, finally—not bad, Hajime, heh. I want you to know I support you.”

“I—what did I do? Finally?” He asked, confused. He turned to Nagito, who seemed equally as confused, judging by the furrow between the eyebrows. Kazuichi looked both elated and resolved, and about to burst into tears at any moment now.

“You don’t need to say anything, bro. You’ve got this—a bit of a… unique guy, but I can see it! Congratulations to you too, Nagito!” Kazuichi laughed, clapping them both on the back.

He turned to leave, but not before he turned to Hajime, mumbling, “And… Hajime? Erm, I’m glad you two figured it out—I was so oblivious…” Hajime just blinked, confused, “Of course, he wasn’t even interested… the girls’ swimsuits…”

He trailed off, sounding disgruntled even as he passed Hajime’s hearing range. Hajime didn’t know what to think, really.

Was there some miscommunication? It didn’t seem harmful, though, so that was excusable.

“Hajime, what just happened to him? He was weirder than usual.” Nagito’s expression twitched into an automatic smile, before falling into bewilderment. He grimaced, before he opened his eyes wide, turning ever-so-slightly pink. “Hm.”

Now, even Nagito? He was definitely missing something.

“No idea, honestly,” he stared after Kazuichi, watching him as he jerkily scooted near Nekomaru’s booming laughter.

“Then, well, would you still like to room, Hajime? I understand if I make you uncomfortable—of course, you might want to be with someone else, perhaps—I don’t want to make you do something out of obligation—”

“Of course, I want to.” Those words felt unexpectedly genuine, in a way that Hajime had difficulty adjusting to. Taking a deep breath, Hajime held out his hand. “Luggage? I don’t know where you kept yours.”

“Mm, it’s on deck. I can get it.” The breeze picked up, swirling the slight saltiness of the sea past him.

“No, please, don’t bother, Nagito. I haven’t had the time to adjust your hand yet—or do any maintenance checks for heavy weights—”

The sudden, bright burst of laughter that followed was beautiful, and it took his attention way too fast. Concerningly, it made him go blank for a second—like he was reacting, instead of knowing what and when and why and all possible escape routes and who was doing what and the Ultimates and he was the Ultimate.

It was… nice.

Nagito grinned, a small but genuine peek of joy, “Thank you, Hajime. We can do that after I get my stuff, okay? Don’t worry, Mr. Leader of Despair.”

“You…ugh… lovebirds! Get a goddamn room!” Fuyuhiko screamed, startling Hajime to attention. Had everyone else heard that?

Nagito went a bright red, like he was sunburned for a moment, before—

“Says you, baby gangster. Peko, he totallyyyy ruined the moment,” Hiyoko complained, poking Peko’s arm.

“I agree. I will remove him from this scene to let… that continue. Master? Let’s pick out our room, instead.” Fuyuhiko grumbled, but ultimately went off with Peko without another glance.

Hajime awkwardly scooted off to the side, feeling a bit embarrassed himself. He was not paying attention at all.

“Nagito?”

“Hm?” His face was still a little red, but it had settled into the impassivity he had held before. That face… was…

Maybe it was best if they left. Everyone seemed wrapped up in their own choices, and it wasn’t like they were malicious, anyways.

He looked around, and no one was appearing to pay attention anyways, wrapped up in their own laughter watching Peko drag Fuyuhiko across the deck.

“Can we leave? Please?”

“Of course. Let’s do that—come on,” Nagito muttered, pulling on his arm in an uncharacteristic show of force. Hajime let himself be dragged to the open door, the wide sea still glinting blue.

He could resist. No one could beat him with his extraordinary talents. They were good enough to pull him away, to stop, to put some distance.

The Nagito in front of him was far, far better, though. Hajime followed, feeling his voice swept past him from the ocean’s winds.

—

“This place is nice,” Nagito smiled, tracing patterns on the mattresses.

The room was actually quite nice—cruise-worthy for sure, and definitely a good holdover until they decided where they would go. A thin breeze fluttered between the door, ruffling Nagito’s hair slightly. He averted his eyes; the feeling in his chest didn’t feel friendly, but not angry, either.

“I know, the Foundation gave us a good one.”

“Mhm.” Nagito bent down over the bunks, curiously leaning over the edges.

“Find anything?”

“Nope, haha, but it looks like they definitely need an Ultimate House—sorry, Janitor here. Ah,” Nagito winced and so did Hajime. Should he say something? He was the de facto leader after all, he should such address emotional vulnerability—

“You know, it’s totally fine to talk about her. She was… our—your teacher.” Hajime stared at the floor, but lifted up his gaze to Nagito’s pause.

“Then, if you don’t mind hearing, Ms. Chisa… I thought she came out safe. All those years ago, with the Foundation, once she left us,” Nagito slowly said, turning around.

“I knew you guys liked her a lot, right?” Haijime asked, feeling himself mechanically go through the motions of unpacking. He turned away; somehow, it was easier to ask when they didn’t have to address anything they said, without facial expressions that Hajime couldn’t control well.

“She brought us together,” a shuffling sound echoed through the room, “when no one else could. In part, she’s the reason—the reason why the good of us is here today. She made us into a real class.”

A seagull screeched in the distance, interrupting Hajime’s train of thought. He spoke almost automatically.

“I see. That’s completely valid, but,” And then, as a quick afterthought, “None of you guys did anything. She… the real one you guys knew… probably died in the Tragedy.”

“Yeah. We did a lot of dying.” Nagito forced out a short, painful laugh, and Haijime smoothed out a corner of his bedsheets, gathering his thoughts.

“You don’t get to say that… with us around. Either way, on the island or with the Future Foundation, we’ll make it up for the rest of our lives.” He watched as a sliver of moonlight fell onto his hands.

At least his hands were unscarred. Nagito’s soft noise of agreement rocked them into the quiet of the cruise.

“You want to go on a walk later, Hajime?”

In response, his heart almost jumped to his throat, and he felt unexpectedly flustered. What was wrong with a simple question, it didn’t mean anything besides an offer of spending time together. They walked plenty on the island, why this reaction now?

Still panicking, he replied hastily, “Tomorrow, maybe? I’m, uh, feeling sleepy. We did a lot today.” He internally face-palmed and whirled around to… stare at nothing.

“Of course. I’ll explore the ship tonight, ” Nagito patted his shoulder, almost nonchalantly, and raised an eyebrow at his stutter, but left it alone. “Goodnight, Hajime.”

“Goodnight, I guess,” Hajime called behind him, hopefully casual. He stared after him, as Nagito brushed past the door.

What was wrong with him?

—

He doesn’t sleep at all.

And for Nagito? He slips into the room at approximately whatever-o-clock, quietly rustles for a couple minutes, and doesn’t sleep either, judging from constant turning.

They stay awake, until Nagito falls asleep an hour later. Hajime doesn’t.

—

Hajime stared at the ceiling. Was he supposed to get up now? It was already morning—the windows told him that much.

He wasn’t sleepy, though. It didn’t feel close to his limit at all—according to Izuru’s memories, there wasn’t exactly a hard limit to the amount of sleep the Ultimate Hope needed.

Subhuman, huh.

Nagito rustled underneath his covers, quietly moving. He was probably awake by now too.

“You awake?” Hajime quietly whispered. If he was truly asleep, Hajime had regulated his volume to not wake him up, hopefully. Nagito huffed quietly, and he turned around, smiling.

His hair was even fluffier than usual, spread out upon the sheets, and haloing his bright, green eyes.

“Nah, of course I’m not awake. But hey, Hajime. You look… tired.” Nagito’s contented expression waned slowly, as he scanned his face.

“I didn’t get to sleep much.” Hajime smiled sheepishly, sitting up and running his hand back through his hair. “I did get some sleep though.”

“Whatever the Ultimate Ultimate says.” He shrugged, seemingly relaxed. “If you’re not too sleep-deprived, how’re you thinking of a short walk? I heard it’s good for you.”

“The Ultimate Nurse, Pediatrician, and Psychologist certainly seem to think so,” Hajime smiled, gesturing out to the hallway, part of him aching to those words.

The hallway’s carpet muffled their steps, making everything that much quieter in the face of dawn. A new day.

“Do you have anywhere in particular you’d like to see? Future Foundation spared no expense on whatever cruise ship this used to be.” Nagito’s hair bobbed along every step they took, almost beige in the lamplights.

“Not particularly. I can guess how most designers would want anything.” His footsteps were always quiet anyways. He tried to deliberately make them louder, to match Nagito’s. “One thing I learned from all this is,” Nagito smiled, turning to face Hajime, “never say you know everything about anything.” His shoulders bumped against his, and Hajime narrowed his eyes playfully.

“Mhm, sure, All-Wise-And-Knowledgeable.”

“You know I didn’t mean it like that,” Nagito’s hand seemed only a whisper away and Hajime almost wanted to reach out, “but whatever floats your boat.”

“You dork.”

“The trashiest dork.” The weak sunlight brought a rose-gold tint upon everything and—well, everyone. The entire cruise ship seemed much more peaceful and calm, and Hajime could see why people got up early. On purpose, though, ugh.

“I believe that.” He joked. Hajime glanced down over the railing, watching the murky, deep blue waters. It reflected the ship’s paleness, and it was nice, too. Maybe. It looked scary, though.

“Come on,” Nagito motioned over to a glass door, “we aren’t going to brood near the sea today.”

“Aw, no,” Hajime rolled his eyes fondly, but he followed along anyway, “brooding, my favorite activity.” And, “Where are you taking me?” Hajime questioned slowly, watching the green coat bob from side to side.

Did he have a million of those? How did he manage to keep all his coats from Jabberwock?

“Well, as a part-time Ultimate, I found a pretty cool spot when I looked around last night,” Nagito turned into a smaller, more dim hallway, “and it really was quite, ha—lucky ultimately. And hopeful.”

Finally, he stopped suddenly at a simple, wooden door, where Hajime might’ve crashed into him, if he hadn’t had experience with Nagito leading him around anyways. He still almost tripped, though.

“You could be an Ultimate Joker too, with that,” Hajime groaned, slapping his forehead. How did he get stuck on a ship with this guy?

Well—rhetorical question.

“What?” Nagito frowned, opening the door. “I found it quite funny in my head.” He looked so disappointed, Hajime almost felt bad—key word, almost. But—ugh.

“It was super, erm, creative, though? I… don’t really know what else to say about it though, it just falls… sort of flat.” Hajime tried, okay.

This was exactly why he left the compliment business to literally anyone else.

“And—ow, wait, why did you stop?” Hajime grumbled, rubbing his forehead. Nagito’s hair was surprisingly fluffy.

Kinda cute.

No, no, stop this, no—not right now. He was not having those thoughts right now.

“Because we’re here, of course!” Nagito steered him to his side, happily staring around him. “I call it the Cruise of the Tough, Traumatized Ultimates: There’s a Garden!”

Real trees—a scattering of bonsai, with lavender circling around what was evidently an artificial spring of water—that were fashioned to look like an artificial garden, flowing around pebbles and drapes of flowering vines.

They stood on marble, a paved walkway winding around the sauna, with overgrown lavender and mosses peeking out between the cobblestones. In this world—in this time, it was almost untouched by the outside world.

It hadn’t been torn down by Despair, or tainted by it. A luxury even Jabberwock couldn’t count as.

…but it was tainted by a bit too much algae, judging from the thin green film across some of it. And also, what was that name Nagito just said?

“What the heck did you just call this?” Hajime blinked once. Before blinking again. He definitely heard that right.

“Hm? You mean there’s a garden? …I called it a garden.”

“With a couple other words, I think. But… I mean, thanks for showing me this. Pretty good luck, I’d say.” Hajime’s cheeks hurt. When had he broken into such a huge smile?

Nagito beamed widely, before nudging Hajime’s side. “My present for you! You’ve seemed down lately.”

“…ah. I can’t argue against that, but I thought—with the ship being down for so long, any plants would’ve been cleared out for Foundation preservation.” Hajime walked closer towards the lavender, poking it. It shook slightly.

“I thought so,” Nagito’s agreement echoed slightly. “Luckily, they missed a spot.”

The quiet peace of the impromptu visit was nice, broken only by the occasional gurgling of the spring’s waterways. It was probably clogged as hell, Hajime considered it a miracle the seawater was still being recycled back and forth, in whatever system the ship used to use for first-class passenger entertainment. Maybe he could clean it—he might as well, with all the free time they would have. With either decision.

The lavender’s buds brushed against his hands, and Nagito’s shoulders visibly relaxed. His shoulder bumped against Hajime’s, as he leaned against him. It strangely did feel casual—nice, although Hajime did notice his heartbeat speed up.

Ever so slightly, but still.

“Really, I’m glad you showed me this… Nagito. I’m happy to see this, honestly—especially since you found this place on our cruise ship?”

“Yes, of course. And what are best friends for?” Hajime stared up at Nagito, shocked. Best friends?

“We’re best friends… yeah. Uh, yeah,” Hajime felt like he was back in those earlier days before the game, stuttering and bright-faced in the face of Nagito’s friendship, “But how can I even beat this? This is… amazing.” Hajime felt like he was violently going to explode from… embarrassment, was that it?

“You don’t need to compete with me for something we both share, Hajime,” Nagito’s eyes were bright and knowing with… something, “And I just wanted to give you a place I knew to relax, sometimes. Especially with everyone deciding between Jabberwork and—”

Nagito was probably going to be the strangest best friend he had ever had. Kind of the most insane one he’d ever known, but hey. He wasn’t much better.

And—he had wanted to ask Nagito something else as well.

“Well,” Hajime rolled his eyes and turned towards Nagito, “Do yourself a favor and take breaks with me too. You hypocrite—I have no idea what thoughts go on up there.”

“Says you, leader. And kind of the whole reason we’re all alive in one—haha, mostly—hopeful piece.” He joked. Nagito elbowed him slightly, the only tell for his humor in his slight, barely noticeable smirk.

“I can’t take all the credit, you know that. What you did in the game—” Hajime tried to clarify, noticing Nagito’s expression cool.

“—what I did in the game was not… hope—argh. You know that.” Nagito’s cheer turned more strained, as he noticeably stiffened. Tension snapped into place, the atmosphere growing cold.

“I know. I’m not making excuses. I know you did terrible things, and I’m electing to also consider what good you did do,” Hajime replied, feeling slightly… angry. He didn’t want him talking about himself like that. Nagito’s arm whirred beside him as he stood up—the lavender crunched underneath him.

“I can’t do this right now, Hajime,” Nagito murmured. Tiredness overshadowed his posture, his expression cold and… terrified. “I’ll call it an early night. I’ll see you later.”

His footsteps sounded all the way to the door, before it screeched open. Nagito paused for a second, before he continued into the hallway. The footsteps disappeared then, too.

“I’ll… see you, too,” Hajime told nothingness. The door swung shut, creaking back awkwardly.

“I just… I wanted to make him feel better, at least. And, it’s not like I’m wrong—ugh, why am I like this…” Hajime buried his head in his hands, closing his eyes.

Everything just felt off. Wrong. Or maybe he was the one who was weird, instead. What was even wrong with him?

First, the isolation he felt from everyone else—that was understandable, things changed after he split with Izuru. His emotions—they kept on malfunctioning at unrelated situations. Now, his ability to even talk with his friends?

“What’s even going on?” He groaned. He raised up his head, squinting at the lavender.

The lavender rustled back, like that was supposed to be an answer.

“And why the hell am I talking to a plant!”

—

“Well, um… I don’t think you’re compromised by puberty or anything else physically? And, um, mentally, you’re still the same from our previous check-ups—I can ask for an evaluation by a psychiatrist from the Foundation. You—you probably don’t have anything wrong, still?” Mikan half-questioned, half-commanded. She flipped through his records on a clipboard, looking uncharacteristically serious.

She then looked back up. “W-What do you think you’re struggling with, Hajime?”

“I get like these… palpitations. I also get… emotional at weird times? I normally don’t feel much of anything, though,” Hajime responded, staring at his hands. He squinted at his shoes—they kinda looked dirty. And the clock was ticking. And what was this weird therapy roleplay?

Mikan blinked, slightly incredulous. “I… You’re supposed to feel emotions, n—normally. But, of course, Izuru—I would consider that as a good sign, that you’re feeling that. That you’re feeling, at least. More concerningly, moving on… when do you get these palpitations?”

Hajime sighed, slamming his head down on the table. It barely hurt. “Okay, that part’s fine—but for the interruptions, I have no idea! It just happens whenever. And I don’t think there’s a physical factor to that.”

“I read about this kind of situation! Ahaha… um… is it around… a certain guy? Maybe?” Mikan looked side to side, before leaning in. “Perhaps… Nagito?” She blushed violently, visibly excited. Was she really that interested?

“No… wait, maybe yes. It could be the feelings of friendship? But I don’t feel it around Kazuichi, or anyone else.”

Mikan blankly stared at him, before she slapped her forehead. “O—Of course. Of course, it’s and then they were roommates here. I’m literally—get out.” Her expression turned dark, almost angry, shadows looming over her eyes. She suddenly looked very much like an Ultimate Nurse… and ha… he felt like he was in danger.

“What do you mean? Get out? Wait, but you didn’t tell me why—”

“Go and talk to your best friend, Hajime. I s—swear, jeez,” Mikan rolled her eyes, looking less uncertain, “So that was the i—issue.”

“Mikan… your sarcasm, I don’t really get it—” Hajime raised his hands, flinching back from her annoyance.

“Then you don’t deserve to get it, I’m s—surrounded by the dumbest Ultimates ever.” She slammed her clipboard down on the desk, shaking in anger. “And talk to him! You adorab—agh, idiots.”

“But he got angry at me? I tried to talk about his actions in the game, and he kinda just left? I don’t know what happened!” Hajime, flustered, tried to ask. He needed to figure out what to do to fix this.

“O—oh, see now, that’s important. But still—go find him! Komaeda always likes to talk with you, and he’ll understand if you honestly just talk about it. Kids, I swear,” Mikan grumbled, before straightening up with an almost manic energy. She started shoving Hajime to the door, smiling menacingly behind him.

Shocked, Hajime could only follow along, before remembering, “And—wait! I’m bad at this stuff, what do I—”

And the door shut right in front of him. He sighed, as Mikan’s giggling faded with her retreat into her and Hiyoko’s room.

“Everyone’s insane, why did I even try.” Hajime groaned, trudging through the hallways. Time… to find Nagito. —

“Hey, Nagito? You okay to talk?” Hajime asked, slowly approaching Nagito on the ship’s deck. The evening’s sun flitted briefly over the clouds, before hiding behind the clouds again. He looked… lonely.

No better time than the present to get it over with.

“I am, of course. I would like to first apologize—” He started.

“I’m really sorry—”

“Oh.”

“Ah… yeah, both of us, I guess. But truthfully, you did nothing wrong, you… meant to say it from a sincere perspective. I reacted strangely… I just needed space.”

“I still brought up something you were uncomfortable with. And the game is a sore spot for all of us—I don’t blame you either, Nagito.” Hajime sheepishly smiled, rubbing the back of his head.

Nagito flashed a small smile in response, before falling back into seriousness yet again, “Still. I think we can both accept each other’s apologies?”

“Of course, yeah. Mikan literally pushed me out of her room—it was funny. ” Hajime grinned, before throwing an arm around his shoulder.

Nagito stiffened visibly, before asking, “And why—why were you in her room?”

“To ask her how to apologize to you. She was kinda weird though.”

“A—Ah, of course.” Nagito turned a slight shade of pink, looking slightly embarrassed. “I have no idea what got into me.”

“Um, yeah. Don’t worry—a common misunderstanding—you’re still definitely my best friend.” Hajime clapped his shoulder, grinning at him. Jeez, Nagito did overthink sometimes.

“Ah—yeah, best friends.” Nagito smirked, raising his eyes to the sky. “Best of friends. I’m fine with that for now.” He meaningfully looked back at Hajime, but what was that… undertone?

“I’m glad, honestly. You are. But also… I wanted to ask about you wanted to do? As well?” Hajime continued, trying to not read too much into that. Was it just him… or was that kind of… nah. Probably not, ha!

“Go ahead. Is this about where we’d head from here? For Jabberwock or back to Japan?”

“Oh, yeah. I think we’re going to meet up for it tomorrow… I just wanted to hear what you thought first.” Nagito nodded, seemingly deep in thought.

“Well, I’m for Jabberwock… actually. I don’t think what we did can ever be… redeemed. Or forgiven. And I don’t want to lose all of the class again so soon. Is it surprising?” Nagito smiled, looking down to the waves crashing against the ship. “You might’ve expected more from me—I do want consequences, but not at the cost of our lives.”

“That’s… I’m glad to hear that. It was honest.” Hajime murmured, lost in thought. He glanced at Nagito’s regretful smile. “But I was thinking about Jabberwock—and it might not be such a great idea after all.”

“Oh? Why not?”

“We’re only alive because of the Foundation’s grace—from the killing game we saw happening, it’s obvious the Foundation’s still unstable.” Hajime winced at the thought of Mitarai and the board member’s plan. “We owe them a lot, and hiding in Jabberwock while the world thinks we masterminded it all… it’s a good short-term plan, but it won’t last. Just like how we can’t blame Junko for everything we did, we can’t be blamed for everything the Foundation did.”

He looked out into the sea, watching as a seagull swooped on the horizon.

“It all gets out eventually.”

Nagito nodded approvingly, shifting towards Hajime. He let out a quiet breath of laughter, before glancing up.

“I see… you’re not wrong. I wouldn’t want the Foundation’s masterminds to escape infamy so easily either—but you propose we… go back to Japan? We will most likely get killed.”

“That’s my struggle as well. I don’t know how I can lead the class on this.” Hajime sighed.

Nagito’s eyes lit up, suddenly. He excitedly whirled around, “Not if we wait. Not if we let the world rebuild itself first. Why did we think we had two options in the first place? Since when did we let those options choose our lives?”

“That is… true. I had only thought that because…”

“Exactly, because we thought we were faced with either being cowards or getting sent to our deaths. But that’s not the case—the Foundation can bring us back from Jabberwock whenever we want.”

“Wait—yeah! If we take credit for the Foundation’s killing game for now…”

“… We can simply expose the truth of the incident later. We’ll face consequences, rightfully, for what we did do. And not only that—we’ll share what happened to us—how Junko messed us up.”

“We can’t let the world think those in despair were responsible for their actions… the brainwashing… What Hope’s Peak did ensure is that we should never have a Hope’s Peak again, but the Foundation didn’t learn from that because they refused to learn—they refused to look away from talents as the ultimate source of all Hope.”

“Especially what they did to you. And to Izuru. Talent shouldn’t ever be made like that again—and the public should know that. Hajime, what they did to you sucked.” Nagito scoffed, placing his hands on the railing.

Hajime laughed, feeling freer the first time in days. He threw his arms around Nagito in their first, real hug, and his ridiculously fluffy hair tickled his nose. Nagito was so, so warm, and this was awesome—why didn’t they hug before? Nagito let out a small, choked noise, before hugging back, gently.

“You’re amazing, Nagito.” Hajime replied, muffled in Nagito’s hair. He let himself enjoy the warmth a little longer, before raising his eyes up to meet Nagito’s.

“… And so are you,” Nagito whispered, his expression peaceful, if not a bit flushed again. Was it the wind?

“Ah, we should probably get inside. But c’mon, let’s find everyone—we got to do something.”

“I-I thought this meeting was tomorrow?”

“Well, now, it’s not.” Hajime let go… a bit regretfully. He would’ve hugged longer, but Nagito was starting to look concerningly red. “Let’s round up everyone from their rooms—I’ll take whoever I find back down into the banquet hall.”

“… Were you also referring to, uh, me?” Nagito looked confused, concerned, strangely flushed, and somehow determined at the same time, before awkwardly pointing to himself.

Sorta cute. Erm, nope, not thinking about it, not thinking about it—

“Yeah, of course.” Hajime agreed, before gently elbowing him. “Who else?”

Nagito gasped, before spinning around, with a new fire of determination within his eyes. He immediately started walking inside, grabbing Hajime’s wrist. Hajime flailed around for a second, shocked.

“Wait—wait, uh, not that fast. You don’t need to rush?” Hajime questioned, still allowing himself to be pulled along for some—no reason.

“I’ll grab anyone I see. Let’s do this. Now.” Nagito was unusually fast now, almost running.

Hajime… felt like he excited him a bit too much, with those words maybe? He sighed, still half-smiling.

“Alright—but jeez… fine. Let me go, I’ll get to the left side.”

“I’ll do the right. Prepare to be amazed by my speed.” Nagito grinned threateningly, before turning around the corner. He let go of his hand, waving goodbye and almost immediately disappearing into the hallway.

Hajime groaned. This guy, seriously…?

… He was the dorkiest dork he had ever seen.

The best one, though. Not that thought, again? Was this puberty or something?

—

The banquet door slammed shut, and with that, Hajime had an entire class of slightly startled, disgruntled, oblivious, or surprised Ultimates. Except for Peko and Fuyuhiko. Hajime had no illusions as to whether anyone could drag them to wherever the pair didn’t want to be.

“Alright, guys. Sorry for the sudden meeting.”

“—Yeah, it was sudden, alright.” Akane grumbled. “Is there any food here? I’m hungry.”

“Oh, yes, here Akane! Would you like to try my—” Teru grinned, before reaching into his pockets.

“Nah. Pass.” She instantly declined. Hajime pointedly stared at the both of them, before slapping his forehead. These kindergarteners.

“—But, Nagito and I had a bit of a revelation regarding the cruise ship’s destination. For Jabberwock, or for going back to Japan. We wanted to ask you guys what you thought about it.

“… I see this couldn’t have waited?”

“Not really… but, I do apologize for getting you guys out here so late.” Nagito chimed in, looking relatively… unapologetic.

“It was perfectly fine! Most of us were just goofing around anyways… I speak for both myself and Mahiru…” Sonia replied, perfectly composed and kind.

“I was just playing pool…”

“I FINISHED TAKING A SHIT.”

“Hajime… just kinda interrupted Imposter and my, uh, anime. It’s okay! This sounds… more important.” Mitarai muttered, looking faintly anxious. Scratch that, very anxious, judging by how much fidgeting he was doing.

“Indeed, commoner. Now—let Hajime and Nagito speak. What do you two propose?” Byakuya-Imposter questioned, folding his arms across his chest.

“Well, to put it simply,” Hajime looked around the room, making eye contact with each of his friends, “We don’t have to choose Jabberwock. Or the Foundation and Japan. Because, there’s a third option—to do both.”

“That would be ideal… indeed. But how?” Sonia questioned, raising herself from her chair.

Nagito nodded, raising a hand to his chin, “We can do so by splitting our time—to go back to Jabberwock now, and to go back to support the rebuilding of the world later on.”

“But—we should just return to Japan fully. If we truly want to support our victims—”

“Princess, that is not allowable by this dark one,” Tanaka turned towards Sonia, raising his eyebrow, “Seeing as that would result in our unfortunate demise, as my visions of the future warn.”

“Tanaka—I understand but, what we did, what I did to my people—” Sonia whispered, obviously heartbroken.

“No one’s dying today. None of us will be sacrificed.” Hajime interrupted, urgently stopping her from turning towards obvious shame, “Because we’ll go to Jabberwock to outwait just that. To let the Foundation stabilize the world, to prevent any further uprisings of Despair right now.”

“And,” Nagito smoothly joined in, “We will still allow the Foundation to take responsibility later. We’ll face our consequences—with the actual good we’ll be able to do, once we’re allowed into the rebuilding of Japan.”

“You’re just going to allow the Foundation to recover then? And then come back? But wouldn’t that undo everything—everything we did that video for?” Mahiru asked, quietly motioning to them all.

“That will undo it,” Peko seriously replied, “But that might be for the best. I do not wish for Fuyuhiko to be viewed as a monster… for that too.” She glanced towards Hajime meaningfully, then stared at Nagito, before she looked away.

Hajime… understood that feeling now. Not wanting someone to be deemed guilty—in reality too.

“I think it’s a great plan, as it lets us not be killed! Or run away, right, Coach?” Akane shouted excitedly. Nekomaru laughed, a booming sort of laughter that shook the room.

“INDEED! HAHA, WE CAN LIVE TO SEE ANOTHER DAY!”

“But what if… we get sentenced to death anyways? After we rebuild the world… and we come back.” Ibuki quietly spoke up, uncharacteristically doubtful.

“Then, we’ll argue our case, and we’ll defend ourselves fairly.” Nagito put his hand on his hip, while narrowing his eyes, “Consequences—we can’t just ignore those. We also have an Ultimate Lawyer here. And the Ultimate Prosecutor, etc. …And I guess Class 78 with the Foundation will probably be willing to lend a hand. After all we’ve done.” He gestured to Hajime, who felt himself blush a little from the embarrassment.

“I’ll do my best… and I’d say, we probably have a fighting chance. Compared to what’ll happen if people find us hiding in Jabberwock, like… idiots.” Hajime sighed, leaning against Nagito’s shoulder. The future sounded tough.

“Ha… yeah… I think that sounds pretty good. And those Monokumas all across Japan, I personally wanna still go back…” Kazuichi responded, looking a bit defeated. Nekomaru patted his back, and almost knocked him over.

“Kazuichi…” Hajime whispered, almost feeling a little proud. He really had grown, huh. “And remember what we resolved at the end of the killing game?”

“We’ll keep on forging our own path to the future, you mean?” Fuyuhiko asked, furrowing a brow. “Of course.”

“Yeah, where we learn from our mistakes?” Akane laughed, emboldened.

“And we won’t hide from our actions.” Nagito’s quiet voice carried across the room, as he met Hajime’s eyes.

“Well, of course, nothing’s over then, right? We’ll have to say how everything happened,” Kazuichi muttered, somber. He raised his eyes towards Tanaka, who, curiously enough, nodded in response. There was definitely a story there.

“Haha… if you think about it, Hope’s Peak—they tried to hide everything, and it came up anyways,” Teru agreed, looking around nervously.

“An’ we can’t let them forget that! We need to remind ‘em of what happens when you do that stuff to talent—when you become Despair like that.” Akane’s mouth was completely full from the snacks, but she somehow managed to talk around it anyways.

“I sincerely agree. We should face our past, present, and future with open eyes—we shalln’t run away!” Sonia victoriously grinned, pointing her finger forward… at Mitarai? Unexpected—but all the more welcome for it, as Mitarai nodded violently.

“To be honest with you guys, I don’t even want to run away. And there’s no way I’m leaving Hajime to clean up our mess alone.” Nagito added, shifting closer to Hajime’s side

“Hehe, looks like lover boy is stuck—”

“Oh, Hiyoko! This is serious,” Mikan sternly reprimanded. She happily glanced at their intertwined hands, “…and we both,” Mikan smiled at Hiyoko, “will go back. To Jabberwock and Japan—Future Foundation—everything.”

“I’m glad. And Hajime,” Nagito peered through his eyelashes mock-shyly, “you’re coming to Japan with me, right? As my best friend?”

“Maybe,” Hajime started, before frowning, “well, actually—that’s a stupid answer. Of course.”

“But… still, thanks.” He whispered.

Did Nagito hear that—well, judging by his hand’s comforting squeeze, he did. And his gentle expression, and his pretty, teasing seaglass eyes—argh.

That bastard was so—ugh. Did best friends usually make each other blush and hold hands? Yeah, probably.

(“The gayest freaking besties I’ve ever seen… and then, they were roommates. Ugh,” Hiyoko grumbled.

“I know, that’s what I said!” Mikan whisper-shouted.)

As if hearing his thoughts, Nagito laughed quietly, before knitting their hands together. It was time to face everything and everyone, and he did feel terrified. His heartbeat was racing, pumping like it had in the trials—Nagito’s fingers were cold with anxiety. But, hey, with Class 77 all together?

Things were gonna be better.

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanfiction #sfw #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #dr #sdr2 #dr3

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

Photo

To: Onymonch

From: Vintmints

Prompt: Hajime finds a cactus or succulent that reminds him of nagitos hair

Artist Notes: I hope you enjoy your piece!!! <33

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanart #sfw #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #dr #sdr2

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

Text

Title: We Move Like The Ocean

Author: KILLC0MMAND (Twitter)/OceanPalace (AO3)/one-way-dream (Tumblr)

Pairings: Hajime Hinata/Nagito Komaeda

Characters: Hajime Hinata, Nagito Komaeda

Rating/Warnings: G

Prompt: Fanfic - Post Game - Hajime and Komaeda going on a nice walk on the beach :] and talking about life

Author’s notes: hope you like it !! ♥♥

For as long as Nagito could remember, he never liked the ocean.

There was nothing about it that was soothing; nothing about it that could quell his deepest fears and bring him even a modicum of peace as it seemingly did for many others. In fact, the ocean probably fed into his anxiety. It was the kind of vastness that made his stomach sink at the sight of it. It seemed endless – starving. As if it could take and take and never be satisfied.

There’s something like stomach acid at the bottom, he thinks. Something that, in the presence of someone as unlucky as him, would rise to the surface like bile that burns your scarred throat. As if all it would take would be for him to misstep, one slip past the shallow waters, for the ocean to churn his flesh and spit him out, stripped down to the bone.

Needless to say, he wasn’t particularly fond of swimming.

So, it’s with caution that he meets Hajime’s request to visit the beach today. It’s with a steady trill of anxiety that he takes in the dark clouds in the distance, and the way that the waves crash and churn frothily against the weathered boulders he could see from their cottage.

But he strolls out of the safety of their home with Hajime, nonetheless, choosing to walk side-by-side along the coast where the briny water meets the seashore. It’s not a choice that comes easily, not even after spending five years together, but more than anything else, he trusts Hajime – and in turn, he learns to trust himself.

It’s overcast today, the ocean whipping up the beginnings of a storm as waves rise and recede, doing nothing more than washing over the sediment and kissing the edges of their black soles as they talked on and off for some time. He was wearing Hajime’s shoes today, and Hajime was wearing his. It’s a comforting change of pace, one that was seemingly mundane and one so painfully normal that he feared he’d never experience something like it in his life.

In fact, he’d been counting on it.

“Have you ever done this as a kid?”

At that, Nagito snaps out of his daze and curiously shuffles closer, close enough to graze Hajime’s hand. The hint doesn’t elude the other man, indiscreetly rolling his eyes yet immediately giving in and clasping Nagito’s right hand in his, coldness buried in warmth, a full moon gleaming under the sun’s light. He fights back a shiver despite the body heat warming him up from the tips of his fingers, taking the brunt of the cool ocean breeze.

Hajime picks up the nearby tree branch he’d spotted and clasps it in his other hand, uncaring of the way the wet sediment sticks to his palms as he waits for the waves to draw back. He nudges the both of them forward, closer to the ocean than Nagito would like to be if he were by himself, and starts writing.

The clayed sand pushes apart with every stroke, residual saltwater pooling in the trenches of the lines. Nagito watches with slight amusement as his boyfriend struggles to keep his weak hand steady; his unvoiced insistence on holding Nagito’s hand with his dominant left for a bit of skin-ship which was maybe a little silly, if not touchingly sweet.

Even his face was pulled in concentration – eyebrows furrowed, and lips pressed together in a thin line that might feel a little chapped if Nagito decided to break his focus and steal his attention with his lips. If it were summer, maybe there would be beads of sweat glistening on his forehead. He wonders if Hajime ever realizes that it’s incredibly easy to read the emotions on his face.

Lost in his thoughts, he doesn’t realize when Hajime finishes until he steps back and tosses the stick aside, pulling Nagito with him. He follows his gaze back to the sand, back to what had swallowed all of Hajime’s concentration, and feels his heart flip without restraint inside his chest.

“Komaeda-Hinata…?”

It comes out as a shaky question, one that he’s afraid to say any louder over the howling wind in fear that the moment would fall apart like their digital reality.

He feels his hand being squeezed lightly encouragingly, pivoting his head to catch a small and rare smile gracing his partner’s expression. And that, he thinks, is all it would ever really take to be truly selfish for once in his life and monopolize Hajime all for himself.

He smiles and gravitates towards him, the almighty pull of the sun – eager now more than ever to test his theory on wind-chapped lips and indulging in the warmth of the first person who ever cared.

As always, Hajime fights an internal battle on whether to give into his vulnerability and meet Nagito halfway or stay still. He doesn’t pull away – he’s been stunned in place before, but he’s never pulled away, even after all these years. Which is why when he does it for the very first time, something like a jolt of electricity shoots through his body, dread and confusion roiling within him uneasily as he leans away. It doesn’t settle until he catches the look on Hajime’s face, body now turned towards the ocean, towards the rolling waves rushing forward with more vigor than ever before.

Hajime is the first to move, cursing and quickly scuttling away from the shoreline with Nagito in tow, jerking him away from the sudden violent rush of water. The latter’s gaze remains on the writing in the sand, the familiar feeling of loss clinging to his mind as he watches the scene unfold, only challenged by the warmth of Hajime’s arms wrapped protectively around him. But the sea crashes against the beach, nonetheless, viciously frothing and spitting saltwater all over them as they stood a safe breadth away from the cold water.

And he watches with a hollow feeling as it swallows up the shore and recedes, slinking back where it came from, although it’s hardly satisfied; after all, the ocean takes, and it takes, and it takes. It takes away future names engraved in the sand. It takes away scraps of burning metal. It takes away hundreds of bodies. It takes away dreams.

It doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, now more of a press against a healing bruise rather than picking an itchy scab that never really healed under the surface, but Nagito can’t help but notice how small his voice sounds against the roaring wind when he finally speaks again.

“It washed away…”

Hajime sighs and then suddenly ugly snorts, startling Nagito a little out of his slump. It’s truthfully a bit of a stupid sound, but Nagito always finds it endearing anyway.

“Well, it is my fault for suggesting we walk around in this weather but, at the same time… does it really matter?” Hajime speaks casually with a shrug, though Nagito knows better than to assume he wasn’t tuned into him to the point where he could pick up on Nagito’s inner turmoil.

He probably senses the trepidation steadily simmering inside him, or maybe it’s written clearly on his face. The arm wrapped around his shoulder drops as he opts to intertwine their fingers together like before. Nagito brushes his thumb over the bend of his knuckle once, a silent and gentle press for him to continue, “To be honest, I… didn’t write it because I wanted it to last forever. I wrote it just to say that– I dunno, that we were here in this moment in time. That we overcame everything thrown at us, and now we’re at a point where, truthfully, we don’t have to worry about fading away into obscurity under life-threatening circumstances. Like a murderous bear suddenly showing up,” Hajime jokes with a teasing grin, bumping their shoulders together a little, “We can live in the moment. We can just do things that are stupid and frivolous and still wake up tomorrow knowing that we can do it again.”

Initially there’s a prick of fear at Hajime’s first few words, at the notion that he maybe didn’t want them to last like that, even if it contradicted with his actions. But slowly the pieces start to click in his mind – the real meaning behind his words at least, in the way that it always does when he’s with Hajime. He still can’t find his voice, only now finding a way to tether himself back to reality, but Hajime doesn’t seem to mind.

“Sure, life will take things away, but these things are worth the trouble anyway. Don’t you think that’s also a big part of living?” He faces Nagito and smiles, exhaling through his nose before turning towards the ocean again, “I wrote it because even though it’s temporary, it means enough to me that we were here to see it.”

Hajime pauses to clear his throat, pitch lowering a little before he continues with a tremor in his voice.

“And I… I guess I don’t mind letting the whole world know that you’re mine, but…” Hajime’s face flushes and his voice trails off at the end, tinged with embarrassment and something like vulnerability, “As long as you know, it’s alright. I guess.”

The tips of his ears are red, and if Nagito didn’t know any better, he’d say it was from the cold.

Thankfully he does know better; he probably knows Hajime best, after all – or at least, he’d like to think so.

He finds his bravery before his voice and raises their joined hands between them, pressing a gentle kiss on the curve of Hajime’s now-cold knuckles, openly drinking in the way he flushes even deeper and struggles to maintain his composure.

What a strange guy; getting flustered now when just a few moments ago he was saying things that he knew would reach Nagito, as if he’d already routed the simplest way to his heart through the gaps of his ribcage, as if he knew the map like the back of the prosthetic hand he lovingly built. Really, he’d give him all of himself to this man if Hajime only asked.

And maybe, by the looks of what he wrote in the sand and the instinctive hope buzzing through his veins, one day he will.

“Then, I guess…” Nagito starts, braving a small but fond smile despite standing at the maw and mercy of the ocean, “I’ll just have to take your word for it.”

Late at night, when he’s tucked under the nook of Hajime’s shoulder, drawing meaningless, sleepy patterns on his partner’s chest as it slowly rises and settles, he thinks.

He hears the ocean through the window left ajar, the sea breeze warm and slightly briny, but not unpleasant. It’s calmer now, the brewing storm having subsided into a false alarm, and the waves now a lullaby more familiar than anything he’d heard growing up.

He thinks about sunken treasure and marine life and aquatic adventures.

He thinks about how the ocean hurts and takes away just as much as it nurtures and gives, in the only way it knows, even if it’s not always balanced in the way one would expect – much like his own luck.

He thinks about, maybe, asking Hajime one day if they could build a sandcastle by the ocean.

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanfiction #sfw #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #dr #sdr2

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

Text

Title: No more Secrets

Author: Fourchuna

For: Enosasleep

Pairings/Characters: Hinata Hajime & Komaeda Nagito, Hinata Hajime/Komaeda Nagito

Rating/Warnings: Explicit Prompt: Angsty scenario where Komaeda’s plan during chapter 5 fails. Hinata takes him back to his cottage to protect him and to make sure Komaeda doesn’t try to hurt himself or the others. He asks Komaeda what happened, and they fight. They end up having sex/making out.

Author’s notes: Hi Enos! :D I hope you like how this turned out!

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52576834

They had searched every island by this point. Thoroughly? Honestly Hinata didn’t know or blame them if they’d missed the smallest detail that would have given even a semblance of a hint. Everyone was in a panic, all desperate not to get blown up via Komaeda’s sudden out of pocket schemes that morning. Hinata slid down the side of the non-operational tank at the military base, legs sore and out of breath from running around looking for Komaeda and less so the bombs, everyone knew if there was anyone who could find the man responsible it would be Hinata. Funny enough that unspoken fact didn’t upset him, no, what upset him was how strange Komaeda had been acting in the last few days.

It had started right after he appeared out of thin air in the fun house. All the praise and smiles Hinata had seen thrown his way, gone. Even the sheer amount of times Komaeda would speak his name, ’Hinata-kun’, it was as if he forgot it all together. More importantly, the contradictory words he’d spit at Hinata only to be followed up by the man questioning himself and why he still cared for the brunet. He even brushed Hinata off and told him to spend time with the others, not a single ’I’m not worthy of your time’ or ’I’m trash’ quip from him. Hinata didn’t buy this sudden personality change and it only made him infuriated. He was also confused, yes, but was done running circles trying to understand Komaeda. With a heavy sigh, his mind began to imagine what it would be like if Komaeda vanished, died and left him without his closest friend on the island. Until a muffled scream interrupted his spiral.

Hinata knew that it couldn’t be a coincidence, there was no one else searching the military base with him. Wide-eyed with worry he had shot up from his position on the asphalt and bolted to the warehouse. Hinata could have sworn he sat long enough to feel rested, but his breath was gone again and heart beating faster than earlier.

“Komaeda?! Are you okay?!” Hinata asked, voice loud and strained.

He had questioned his well being. Komaeda was the one who set up bombs, and he was instinctually worried for his safety first and foremost.

The handle fought against him at first, failing to open with a casual turn. Impatient and angry he used every ounce of strength to throw open the door, he had planned to kick it down next, anything to get him in the building. The backsides of two Monokuma standees flew to the far sides of the room from how fast the industrial door was swung open. The other cardboard cutouts behind it were untouched, still standing upright from where they were placed, but Hinata didn’t care. He sprint past it all with eyes glued to the one place in the room Komaeda could be, ignoring the random MP3 player flashing an empty battery icon at him, only the curtain mattered. The fabric was gripped and thrown to the side with absolute abandon, the sight it revealed induced panic in both men.

Komaeda was there on the floor of the warehouse, ankles and left wrist roped to the point any movement without the price of pain was out of the question. A knife was feebly raised above his right leg, Hinata’s focus quickly went from the knife to Komaeda’s face, both victim to unreasonable amounts of shock and panic as displayed on their faces. Through the white mess of hair and duct tape muting him, Hinata could’ve sworn he saw hazy green eyes begging his friend to save him from his own mistake.

After witnessing a sharp nasally inhale and a weak “…Hmnta-knm?” leave Komaeda, Hinata knew what he had to do. He didn’t get to finish his depressive spiral of what he would do if Komaeda disappeared and he wasn’t about to find out.

Hinata snapped out of the heart breaking trance he found himself in and slid on his knees over to Komaeda where he took his wrist in his palm, other hand taking the knife from him with ease thanks to the long lasting shock of seeing Hinata. Next was the spear Hinata noticed much later than he’d like to admit, he leaned over Komaeda’s face and took the weight from him with little force, the boy beneath him grunting like a child robbed of his favorite toy. The spear that hung above them both was slowly lowered down from the rafters and thrown far into the warehouse and away from the both of them, courtesy of Hinata. Komaeda just continued to watch him with a new growing annoyance in his look and tone. Hinata thinks he’d heard his name a few times, but was unsure since any audible noise the tied up boy made was still muffled from the tape, he decided it would stay that way for now.

The brightly colored pink that pooled below Komaeda’s thigh began crawling towards Hinata’s knee, causing him to quickly grab the knife he had in hand and cut a generous part of his iconic dress shirt off.

“Hold still.”

Komaeda rolled his eyes at him and huffed before something else caught his gaze and he shut up quick.

Hinata knew his demand was meaningless since the boy was tied up anyway- he clearly knew that, but wasn’t entirely confident in his wound dressing ability, trying his hardest to remember how Mikan taught him. Hinata thanked whatever god let him hear Komaeda’s screams before he could stab himself more than twice and make his job harder than it needed to be. Tying the ends of his makeshift shirt turned bandage into a knot, he took the knife and reached for Komaeda’s wrist and ankles, freeing him from the ropes that bound him. Hinata inhaled in preparation before carefully sliding his forearms under Komaeda’s upper back and knees, lifting him off the ground and into his arms, he was lighter than expected. A whine with inquisitive shock left his captive as he was being carried until Hinata almost passed a small source of light, Komaeda wiggled and pointed at the upright lighter. With the tap of his foot the lighter had closed safely and Hinata gave the boy in his arms a disgusted glare, the complexity of this suicide set-up annoying him the more he found in this damned warehouse.

The blazing sunlight made the fool of the hour wince as he was carried out of the dark.

“I’m taking you to my cottage. You’re explaining yourself. All of it.”

Hinata had gained the boy’s emotionless attention for a split second, but the brunet didn’t care to look back at him. Komaeda had wondered if the others on the island would be an issue on their nice peaceful walk back to the hotel, as luck would have it they weren’t. After his watchful eyes failed to find anyone they knew, Hinata made a quick point to mention that everyone had met back up and decided to double down their search on the fourth island, more space more bombs they had assumed.

A rough twist of the cottage door handle and the metal gave way resounding a strange extra click, the supposed lock working as infamously as usual, Hinata clicked his tongue. This new annoyed and aggressive Hinata had piqued Komaeda’s interest- only to then be robbed of his comfortable position in his friend’s arms and thrown with mild reckless abandon onto Hinata’s bed. The loud slam of the cottage door drowned out the feeble click of a lock that came after had startled Komaeda out of the creaky bed springs and ruffle of the bed sheets that had filled his ears and obstructed his vision. He flipped his bangs out of his face and attempted to wave his arms outward and flatten the sheets so he could hear as well- only to crudely have the duct tape on his mouth ripped off before his wrists were pinned above his head, Hinata right above him with quite the serious expression.

“Ow-”

Hinata’s open hand hitting the sheets next to his face snap him out of his light pain.

“The fuck is wrong with you? Everyone is looking everywhere for the so called ’bombs’ you’ve planted and you’re trying to fucking kill yourself?!” he yells at the man below him as his inner knees lightly dig into the sides of thighs.

“I don’t see the problem here, honestly. At least my death would bring hope, but I don’t expect a talentless reserve course student to understand my pla-”

A tanned hand swiftly comes up to his face to grab him by the cheeks and impair his speech, the contact making his tape inflamed skin burn a bit more.

“Shut the fuck up about ’talents’ and the ’reserve course’ for five damn minutes. This isn’t about that.”

Komaeda wonders where this Hinata has been during their time on the island, but before he can think about it more he lightly nods in understanding to Hinata’s earlier demand.

“Tell me what you think killing yourself would have done- and don’t say it’s for hope. You’ve been acting off the last few days and I’m not going to buy the whole ’hope’ reason. Tell me.”

Hinata could feel his patience slipping so fast. He wanted answers, but he wasn’t going to do so by injuring his friend, he let go of Komaeda’s face gently and pinned his arm back where it was prior. Drawn out sighs give the brunet hope he’ll get the answers he’s looking for, until he witnesses the man rolling his eyes around aimlessly, looking everywhere but at Hinata.

The luckster dons one of his traditional fake smiles, “I had intricately planned a suicide that would have weeded out the traitor! Successfully saved us from this nightmare! Hinata-kun, my death would have been informational and heroic! A true stepping stone!”

He tries again.

“No. You know who the traitor is, you don’t need to ’weed’ them out. I know you’re smarter than that.” Komaeda flinches at the compliment, a strange stab of kindness in this tense atmosphere.

“Why would you set up a suicide and not a murder if you knew who the killer was? Why wouldn’t you just tell me- hell, anybody? Stop lying and tell me the real reason.”

Frail thin wrists were released as Hinata began to express care. Komaeda’s eyes that had been pressed by furrow brows had finally relaxed, he supposed it was time Hinata knew the truth.

“You know, you’re way too inquisitive for a mere reserve course student. And you think you have the right to yell at an ultimate for answers? Fine. I was hoping to kill everyone.”

Komaeda held eye contact as he waited for the brunet to be taken aback, to yell and berate him in return- maybe even toss him out of his cottage, but he just kept listening.

“You would have all saw my suicide as a suicide and nothing more, acusing me when the real killer would have been the traitor. The traitor that would have thrown a poison laced fire grenade, triggering me to lose my grip on the spear and die, none of you would be wiser. Afterall, hope will always win over despair. My insufficient hope, against the remaining despair on this island.”

If Hinata wasn’t going to change his expression or response, Komaeda wasn’t going to spend the effort to look at him, at least not his face. With a turn of his head he rested his hazy green eyes straight ahead, staring holes into Hinata’s arm that was placed closer to his face than he realized.

“Instead my luck ruined my plans- you ruined my plans, destroyed everything I had set in motion to see my suicide through. My luck should have vouched wherever I needed- the cut-outs, the MP3 that would have let me die alone and unbothered, and now here you are. An agent of despair- a talentless reserve course student, I hate it all. I hate you.”

The brunet watched Komaeda’s face crumple in disgust with those last words, ’I hate you’. He had spoken with such certainty in his voice, but his eyes only faded into that pained longing expression. It was the same look he gave Hinata in the warehouse the moment he found Komaeda.

“Then why do you still care about me?” calmly, hushed.

“…What?” eyes opened to stare back up and meet Hinata’s, like a deep secret was revealed.

“Then why do you still care about me?” louder.

“I…I don’t know.” he went back to averting his eyes, settling on Hinata’s collarbone.

“You told me in the Grape House. You discovered something that told you I was talentless, something that tried to convince you to hate me- probably something that told you I’m despair, but you still care for me. Why?”

His hands slowly wrapped around his midsection, “…I don’t know.”

“You cared then and you still do now, if you didn’t you wouldn’t have looked so relieved when I found you in that warehouse. If you really wanted to commit suicide and frame all of us, why didn’t you stop me?”

“I-”

Hinata thought back to his earlier question of what he’d do if Komaeda disappeared for good, it made him sick to his stomach now, “Have you ever fucking thought I’d miss you? Maybe just- even a little bit? That there was a solution that didn’t involve you killing yourself? Because you may not want to continue living, but I want you to-”

Caring words were cut off abruptly by soft lips on his own, the collar of his ripped dress shirt firmly pulled down to hide Komaeda’s own rose dusted cheeks. It didn’t take Hinata long to kiss him back and with just as much force, allowing Komaeda to rest his head back on the bed before they parted.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

Hands that had rested on Hinata’s shoulders slid up his neck and into his hair, “How could I possibly admit that someone like you- a talentless reserve course, had me nonchalantly wrapped around your finger like it was nothing.”

Hinata gave into Komaeda’s touch and let him bring his forehead down to meet his.

“My suicide would have allowed me to frame the entire class of despair representatives and give me the cheapest escape route from the suffocating feelings I have for you. Me? An ultimate? Falling in love with someone like you? It was painful finding the truth out, death sounded like a mercy in comparison to living with what I knew.” fingers lightly dug into Hinata’s hair, holding him there before the man could even think about leaving him.

Hinata raises brows at Komaeda in amusement and confusion before releasing a low laugh, “Komaeda, I don’t know exactly what you found in that Final Dead Room, but I don’t remember anything. None of us do! I didn’t know I’m talentless, it was a weird hurdle to get over the fact I’m not- and it still is, but that doesn’t change things right now. Fuck, I didn’t even know I was despair, am I really?” his eyes look up to his head as if it’ll give him answers, he shrugs, “I still don’t know, but it shouldn’t matter. Who says we can’t change?”

He carefully drops his head above Komaeda’s shoulder and worms his arms around his frail body to hug him.

“This messed up island trip could be a way to rewrite who we could have been. You know, a way to push forward with hope in mind just like you always say, right?”

The man had been stunned into wide-eyed silence. He was just lectured about the very thing he babbles on and on about, can’t say he wasn’t slightly peeved Hinata of all people made more sense than him. Komaeda felt a little one-upped…

Komaeda finally laughs, worrying Hinata for a moment before his laugh settles on a questionable smile that goes unseen, “You’re right Hinata-kun! Onward with the future, so with that said…”

A strange sound of something falling to the floor added to his worries, but before Hinata could raise his head back up to inquisitively ask what he’s going on about, Komaeda’s injured leg slowly grazes the brunet’s length causing a deep moan to rip from Hinata’s thoat. A knee left in place to taunt where Komaeda could only guess where his head is, Hinata finally finds the strength to raise himself back onto his arms to give Komaeda the worst attempt at looking annoyed, he looked more flustered than anything.

“W-we were just talking about some dark topics, starting with y-you trying to commit suicide- AH” Komaeda playfully moves his knee back and forth, his socked foot flat on the bed comfortably, “a-are you sure about… this? You heard what I said right?”

Hands find their way back to Hinata’s head again, ruffling the spikey looking hair that has dropped to his chest, kissing his head affectionately, “Hinata-kun, you just proved my reasons for attempting such a thing weren’t even backed by logic let alone hope. I feel idiotic, truly. So I’m sorry, but now something new immediately interests me.”

With a lick of his lips, Komaeda tilts his head to look and see if he’d accomplished anything, only to be rewarded with a very obvious bulge in Hinata’s pants and strained moans from above. Curious, he lifts his knee off the bed, and slowly rubs it up and down Hinata’s clothed dick.

“FUCK- Komaeda!”

Out of breath and harder than he’d like to admit, he finally noticed which leg Komaeda was using to rub him, the injured one. Hinata instantly thought to discipline him verbally but had a better idea. Moving his right leg into the space between, he reached out and grabbed the very hips he held hostage to pull Komaeda down and give him a taste of his own medicine. As he was about to moan out in absolute ecstasy after going untouched, Hinata captured Komaeda’s open lips and slid his tongue in, swallowing every moan and immediately dominating the kiss. Both took their sweet lucious time exploring each other’s mouths, wet smacks of lips and out of breath huffs echoed off the thin cottage walls. Emotional and heavy atmosphere from before be damned, the two of them succumbed to the burning need, only leaving each other for seconds of air when needed. Making out with Hinata was exactly what Komaeda expected and more, he tried to piece together how ’warm’ could be a taste, how safety could be a feeling when you’re pinned down and out of breath, he couldn’t possibly get enough of this.

Hinata sat back on his heels and used his thumb to wipe the excess drool that strung between him and the exasperated luckster under him. He watched as Komaeda’s eyes trailed up from the bottom of his abdomen to where his ripped shirt stopped, for the second time today. Hinata could easily tell he wanted to rip the rest of the damn shirt straight off from where he sat resting on his elbows, propped up to get a good view no doubt. The shirt didn’t do his form justice, Hinata was by no means ripped, then again Komaeda didn’t like the idea of anyone else getting to see this.

“Like what you see?” the brunet chuckled at the drool leaving Komaeda’s gaping mouth.

“Could do without the sad excuse for a shirt and tie blocking my view.” he sassed.

Hinata huffed, “Hey, I ripped this shirt to save your ass.” before loosening his tie and throwing it behind his shoulder, along with what remains of his shirt.

Komaeda could feel his pants strain at the show above him, “Mmm, guess you’ll need a new shirt. Don’t think I’d be okay with you walking around in that crop top.”

The idea of Komaeda being a possessive lover entertained Hinata more than he thought it could, “Could ditch the shirt and just wear the tie with no shirt.”

He got quite the angry look in response, but Hinata just laughed it off and smiled at him.

“I’m joking, I’m joking, I don’t think I could.”

Hinata rubbed his thumbs into the sides of Komaeda’s hips, hands lovingly caressing every surface of his skin as they made their way up to his chest. Dipping down to lock their lips together again, Hinata thumbed over the small nipples he felt under his palms, earning a new addictive moan out of Komaeda as their tongues danced. The albino was the one to break the kiss this time, panting before formulating words on his tongue that failed to leave him the first few times, Hinata waited.

“O- off. A-all of it, off.” he tugged down at the waist of Hinata’s pants, “I can’t anymore. I need you now, Hinata-kun.”

Hinata searched for any semblance of hesitation in Komaeda’s face, only flushed pale skin and desperate eyes met his gaze.

“Are you really sure about this? I don’t have condoms, Komaeda- AH.”

All worries and hesitation was out the window as Komaeda slipped his hand down the front of Hinata’s pants and wrapped his fingers around his dick. Hinata groaned as deft fingers slid up and down his length all while fighting to stay upright and not release all his weight onto Komaeda.

“We don’t need them. I want all of you, and yes I am sure. I had plenty of time to think about this, trust me.” his own pants had become suffocating, precum beginning to leak through the layers of fabric.

Komaeda retracted his hands from Hinata’s dick and slipped his hands out of his pants, licking a stripe from the base of his palm to his middle finger, savoring the precum he managed to collect. The sly actions went straight to Hinata’s dick, he couldn’t wait any longer either.

“Alright, alright, I get it, give me a second. Hang onto me.”

Doing what he was told, Komaeda happily wrapped his arms firmly around Hinata’s neck and felt an arm embrace him from behind, lifting his upper half off the bed. Once again he was dragged and dropped back onto Hinata’s bed but this time with his head comforted by a pillow. He watched as Hinata kneeled on the bed between his open legs shucking his briefs and pants down his thighs in one go. At that point he was so distracted by the sight of Hinata’s erect dick that he didn’t even realize he was fully naked in front of him. Hinata looked back to find Komaeda studying him, it was funny, he expected to be at least a little bit embarrassed but guessed it was because this was a long time coming really.

“Hey, you gonna undress yourself or you want me to do it? You seem a little busy, haha.”

Komaeda looked confused at his question until he looked down and observed himself, Hinata swore his face grew a shade darker at the realization. Hinata pitied him and helped, taking his pants and briefs while being careful of his wounds. Komaeda helped as well, throwing his oversized shirt and beloved jacket onto the floor with the rest of their clothes. A squeak had escaped him when Hinata had turned him to his side to help him free his jacket, the embarrassment from making such a noise and for the sight before Hinata.

“Sorry, I forgot… and sorry I’m not exactly your ideal eye candy, Hinata-kun.”

Now nude, his arms made a weak attempt at hiding his chest and stomach for a beat before Hinata ran his hands up his sides, slipping his tongue into his gaping mouth. Komaeda moaned into the familiar feeling of Hinata’s mouth on his, tilting to give him all the access he needed. Frail hands flew to the mess of brown hair and neck above him. Hinata had ended the kiss with a resounding pop and moved over to Komaeda’s neck, sucking on the skin and marking what was now his. Komaeda’s erotic noises bounced off the cottage walls as Hinata left more marks on his neck and collarbone, the occasional rub of their hard ons earning melting moans from them both.

“Haaah…H-Hinata-kun! Please!” The crescents Komaeda’s nails began to leave on Hinata’s shoulder blades got deeper.

“There’s nothing to apologize for, and if you weren’t ideal I wouldn’t be doing this with you.” he left one more mark on his neck, kissing it before meeting Komaeda’s half-lidded eyes, “No self deprecation, Nagito.”

The usage of his given name went straight to his dick, making him cry out and begin whining at the significant lack of contact for relief.

“O-okay, I promise! Just- please, Hinata-kun! Fuck me!”

Desperate to finally feel Hinata inside him, he tried to get the point across by holding his knees to his chest as best he could. A quick look at the pink ring of muscle twitching at him and Hinata knew it wouldn’t take long to prep him if at all. He reached over to the nightstand a pulled out a bottle of lube, flipping the cap open and pouring a bit on his index and middle, wiping most of it on Komaeda’s hole. A high pitched whine escaped the boy at the cold gel, only to quickly turn into moans as Hinata slid both fingers in him like it was nothing and began slowly pumping in and out. The fingers had disappeared all the way to Hinata’s knuckles without a single amount of effort. The hands that once held Komaeda’s knees up, flew over to grip the sheets on his sides.

“You’re really loose, Komaeda.” Hinata wasn’t that dumb, but he wanted to hear it.

“I-I told you I’ve had plenty of- AH t-time to think about this! Hnnata-kunn, pleaseee.”

Hinata curled his fingers towards him as he pulled them out of Komaeda, a broken string of disappointed moans as they left him. Grabbing the bottle of lube to massage a bit onto his hard twitching dick, Hinata lined himself up to Komaeda’s ass and slowly pushed in. Hinata let out a low groan as Komaeda’s heat swallowed him inch by inch. The boy in his sheets was absolutely singing, moaning brokenly as he continued to suck Hinata in, the feeling of being filled by him like nothing he could have imagined. Hinata had stopped to adjust and make sure Komaeda was okay before bottoming out.

“Hah, hah, Hajime, more.”

With that, Hinata pushed all the way in even faster, bottoming out in Komaeda gifted him a beautiful cry that echoed in the cabin. His dick enveloped in Komaeda’s heat twitching inside at the fact he was the one who made Komaeda make these noises. The two sat there for a beat absorbing the moment until Komaeda began whining and tried to move his own hips. Hinata caught his breath enough to huff a small laugh before pulling out to his head and all the way back in, he could get drunk off the sounds Komaeda was making. Bit by bit he began to pick up the pace, shifting his grip on Komaeda from just above his hips and cautiously to the start of his thighs. Hinata could hear small whimpers of the word ‘faster’ in between moans, and faster he went. The sounds of skin slapping skin began, Hinata leaned into Komaeda, allowing him to grip his back for dear life as the bed frame shook with every deep thrust. Meaningless worry of others hearing them wasn’t even a thought in either’s mind, not even for a moment.

“Hnng, Komaeda. I’m close. L-Let me go.”

“No! In-inside. Don’t pull out. I want all of Hajime.”

Komaeda feels himself draw blood from Hinata’s back, the growing size of the dick inside him from those words alone had edged him even closer. Burying his head in Komaeda’s neck he pounded into him hard a few more times and came inside him, the feeling of Hinata filling him with cum immediately making him follow suit and paint the small space between them white with cum. Hinata fell halfway on top of him, dick still securely inside Nagito as he waited till he was entirely spent, he didn’t have the energy to sit back up anyway. A hand made its way slowly up Hinata’s spine and into his hair, Komaeda holding him into his shoulder, other hand finding Hinata’s to lace their fingers together. As their panting died down and both could breathe correctly, Komaeda craned his head down to kiss the top of Hinata’s head.

“Hinata-kun?”

“Mhmm?”

“I love you, and I don’t care if you’re talentless.”

“Mhmm, I love you too.”

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanfiction #nsfw #suggestive #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #dr #sdr2

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

Text

Artist: Anonymous

For: ForestFryza

Prompt: “Children KomaHina spend time at the shrine. Nagito is a young kitsune. Hajime touches his fluffy tail with delight.”

Artist’s notes: This prompt was too cute! Hope you like it

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanart #sfw #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #dr #sdr2

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

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Title: in a veil of great disguises

Author: katspaw

For: 12wingedangel

Pairings/Characters: Komaeda/Hinata

Rating/Warnings: T

Prompt: Post HPA AU with co-dependent failed project Hinata and Servant Link:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/52562035

The stone walls of his childhood home looked solid and familiar, even against the blood red sky. "There," he managed, sagging a little against Hajime's side. "It's still standing. How lucky." In return, Hajime sighed in what have been relief, frustration, or nothing at all. It was hard to tell with him, these days.

"Let's keep moving," he said eventually, and repositioned Nagito's arm over his shoulder. The last mile or so had been rough going for both of them. The adrenaline and shock of the afternoon had worn off, and Nagito was dizzy from blood loss and the pain that his body had been politely holding back. Hajime had had to almost drag him along step by step.

The gate had long been worked open by thieves or vandals, the family car stolen and probably crashed somewhere in the street, or maybe through the window of a nearby shop. Hajime shouldered the remains of the metal gate aside and fumbled with the doorknob. The interior wasn't in much better shape than the exterior - it had clearly been ransacked and then picked over. A splatter of blood had dried on the farthest wall, although the source wasn't clear. Nagito had hoped seeing the place he'd grown up in in this state would have had more of an impact on him, but he found he barely cared. It had never felt much like a home after his parents had died. How unfortunate, to not even gain some despair from the situation.

"Is there anyone here?" Nagito called out. Beside him, Hajime went still. The house remained quiet, no answering call or suspicious noises. That didn't mean they were alone, of course.

"Hajime, would you go and check upstairs? That's a job even a talentless reserve course dropout can handle, I think."

Hinata settled him against the wall and headed up the stairs, but didn't respond. That was okay. Actually, it was better than okay; it was a good thing. When Hinata had still gotten angry at being called true things like 'talentless', he had often yelled at Nagito and stormed off on his own. Now Hajime never left his side. And the despair Nagito felt when Hajime failed to react like he should only helped to further Nagito's hope.

"I'm... really lucky, aren't I?" Nagito murmured to himself, and raised a hand to run through his own hair before he realized which hand he'd tried to use. The realization sent a bubble of hysteria rising through his chest. Hajime appeared at the top of the stairs before he could fully erupt into laughter.

"Oh, finished looking around already?" He extended his left hand imperiously towards Hajime, the hand dangling limply from its wrist. Hajime grabbed him by the elbow instead and pulled him upright, steadying him when Nagito swayed on his feet.

"Yeah. It's in okay shape," Hajime said quietly, as they made their slow, unsteady way up the stairs. "There's still some medical supplies in your room."

Medical supplies were the last thing on Nagito's mind, of course. The pain he was feeling was only what he deserved, for listening to the words of someone horrible like Junko Enoshima. It was the despair that was going to power his hope... or maybe it was Hajime's despair, Hajime's hope. He'd been avoiding looking at the hand all afternoon.

"It's lucky that we got here first, don't you think, Hajime?"

Hajime trailed after him as he hunted around the wreckage, finally coming across a desk that was still in good condition. "And even more lucky, I found this," he waved the hacksaw that must have come from some workshop or classroom.

Hajime had been completely stoic in the face of Junko's mangled corpse, but now as Nagito set his left arm against the desk and held up the hacksaw, judging the angle of the cut, he saw Hajime twitch.

Hajime ferried him into the first room on the right, supporting Nagito on his shoulder. His childhood bedroom. The bedframe groaned ominously when Hajime lowered him onto the mattress, but it held. Hajime vanished into the attached bathroom while Nagito settled gingerly back against the headboard. The walls were mostly bare now, his posters and shelves of decorations smashed or torn. The wall that had once held a Hope's Peak banner had marks gouged into the drywall, as though whoever had been here to loot the house had wanted to demolish the words.

Maybe that was for the best. They'd come here once before, right after Nagito's class had faked their deaths. That was right as the Tragedy was getting started, spreading from Hope's Peak like a viral infection. Junko had found Hajime first - bad luck, or good luck? - right before Nanami's death. The revelations about Hope's Peak's unethical human experimentation, its disregard for its Reserve Course students, its leadership's mismanagement, all combined into a firestorm among the public. Of course, Junko had held up Hajime as a prime example of Hope's Peak's corruption. A group of mad scientists, manipulating a Reserve Course student into volunteering his brain and body for experiments that would give him talent, and it wasn't even successful! He was a symbol of despair for his entire class, and, as it turned out, the nation.

When Nagito had seen him, Junko's hand wrapped around his arm, her red nails digging into his bicep, he had barely recognized Hajime. He'd always had such an expressive face, and a bevvy of anxious little habits that screamed, 'I don't belong here!' more loudly than his ugly Reserve Course uniform ever could. The man being jostled and pawed over by Junko was still and compliant. His hair was close cropped, like it had been shaved recently, but that stubborn cowlick of Hajime's was still present. It wasn't enough to distract from the healing surgical wounds on his forehead. Their eyes had met while Junko's words washed over him, pointless white noise. In Hajime's gaze was recognition without any kind of reaction. Blank acknowledgment.

It wasn't as though Nagito believed in despair the way his classmates did. They were too shortsighted to see how despair was only a stepping stone for hope, how everything Junko had set into motion was just a way to test them, to see how well they could overcome despair. But in that moment, he'd been reminded of its power, the same way he had been when his parents had died, or when his doctor had called him to explain his diagnosis. That dark certainty that something irreplaceable had been lost, that what had broken could never be fixed.

Of course, he'd been wrong to think even for a moment that hope couldn't overcome that feeling. When Junko had grown bored with Hajime and tossed him away, it was Nagito he'd gravitated to, following after him like a stray dog hoping for scraps. Those first days together, Nagito had looked so desperately for signs of the Hajime he knew. It was only when they'd come here, to the house his parents had left him, that Nagito had seen any real emotions from him. Hajime had drifted around the room, looking at the Hope's Peak memorabilia with an increasingly pained expression, but he'd listened to Nagito tell him that Hope's Peak had had to become a symbol of despair to fulfill its purpose. "It wasn't what I thought it was," was all he'd said, when Nagito had gotten too breathless to continue and had had to sit down. Hajime had sat with him and leaned against him, unselfconsciously affectionate in a way that had always been hard for Hajime to show. That was really when Nagito had understood the gift his luck had given him.

"...Hey, don't fall asleep."

"Hmm?" When had he closed his eyes? Hajime was kneeling on the ground in front of him, a medical kit open beside him.

"Don't worry, Hajime. It won't become infected," Nagito told him, "the bad luck of having such a disgusting person's hand attached to me will prevent anything like that from happening, I'm sure." It took an effort not to look too obviously thrilled when Hajime ignored what he was saying and started gently applying disinfectant around the edges of the wound.

"I don't mind," he said, pausing when Nagito winced at a particularly tender edge of the wound.

"Aha... as you can see, Hajime, I'm completely useless right now." His hand was shaking so badly he could barely hold... well, what was soon to be his other hand. There was something funny in that, wasn't there? He couldn't stop laughing, anyway. "Will you help me?"

That wrinkle in Hajime's brow had only gotten deeper, but he didn't recoil in disgust from Nagito, like any reasonable person would. Instead he knelt down, his terrible Reserve Course uniform pants getting soaked with Nagito's blood, and picked up the suture packet. "I... don't mind. But..."

"I'll tell you how to do it," Nagito told him, forcing it out around the hysterical laughter that kept overtaking him. He did his best to press Junko's limp hand against the open wounds of his arm, the pain only making him laugh harder.

Hajime's stitches were messy, uneven and rushed, but they held. Every time the needle pierced Nagito's skin, Hajime would reach up with his free hand and quickly pet at Nagito's shoulder or back, as though in apology. Those moments were like little stars of hope in a sea of despair. He didn't deserve them at all, but it only made them feel more precious. He didn't deserve Hajime's stitches in his skin either, but he had them anyway - pieces of art, evidence of Hajime's devotion, forever a part of the fabric of his body now.

"There's painkillers," Hajime told him and began putting away the antibiotic gel, apparently satisfied. "You should--"

"No," Nagito cut him off. "It's what trash like me deserves, after all, for having anything to do with Ultimate Despair. You don't think so, Hajime?"

Hajime wasn't frowning, exactly, but his eyebrows had pulled together sharply. "No, I don't."

Nagito waited, but Hajime didn't argue further. He made a point of setting the painkillers on the nightstand, and Nagito made a point of ignoring them.

"I'll keep an eye out for anyone trying to break in," Hajime said eventually, setting aside the medical kit. "You should probably rest."

"We'd hear them from here, don't you think?" Nagito asked, shuffling back on the bed and being sure to leave some extra space. In reality, of course, it didn't matter at all whether Hajime kept watch or not. His luck meant that either they'd be completely undisturbed, or they would be attacked, regardless of how careful they were. Hajime didn't seem to care. He often insisted on staying up when Nagito tried to sleep, although it wasn't as though Hajime needed any less rest than he did. Nagito had fallen asleep now with his head resting against Hajime's shoulder or cradled in his lap too many times to count.

Hajime hesitated. "Yeah..."

"Telling me to rest when he's been awake longer than I have..." Nagito murmured thoughtfully to the room at large. "Maybe Hajime wants to collapse while we're traveling tomorrow and that's why he's not resting either..."

He was rewarded with Hajime's sigh as he climbed onto the mattress beside Nagito, twisting so they were lying face to face. Hajime's eyes were breathtaking from this close. Completely ordinary in every way, but breathtaking.

"You know, Hajime," he began conversationally, throwing his arm over Hajime's shoulder and pulling him close. "I'll need your help a lot more now. It's best if you're never very far from me. I was thinking of getting you a collar and a leash, like a dog. Or maybe more of a chain... What do you think?"

"...You should wear one too," Hajime said evenly. "That way neither of us can go off on our own, right?"

"Ahaha... I'm so glad you agree!"

Even now, he wasn't sure what Hajime was getting from this arrangement, if he felt the same way that Nagito did. That light in his beautiful, plain eyes might be obsession, devotion, a fear of being left alone. It might be better if it was all three, really, and Hajime had every incentive to stay by his side, no matter how the world burned. All that mattered, Nagito thought, was that in the right light, it looked like love.

#kmhnsecretexchange #fanfiction #sfw #komahina #sdr2

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

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Title: shared secrets

Author: @toomanysongsrae

For: @/nyajimehinyata 💖💖

Pairings: Komaeda Nagito/Hinata Hajime

Rating: Teen

Prompt: Cramping Hajime is bedridden and Nagito helps and comforts him during the tough time and they cuddle together

A/N: I can never just write the prompt, there needs to be a silly little backstory lmao I hope you enjoy it, even though I took my liberties with the prompt! This was so much fun to write

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52563106

Hinata groans, pulling the thin covers over his head. It’s useless — it’s simply too loud in the Hope’s Peak infirmary, too bright, the bedsheets too starchy and itchy, the mattress too thin. He can’t get comfortable, and that means he stays tense, which does not help the matter.

He swallows down a wave of nausea, not wanting to throw up again. It always leaves him feeling even grosser than before, the slimy sensation of sickness on his tongue that makes his head spin and his stomach twist even harder.

This is stupid. This is why he decided to go on testosterone as soon as his doctor allowed it — well, this and the need to stunt any more of his stupid premature puberty that left him with curves in all the wrong places when all the other children still looked like, well, children.

He had always known he was a boy, much to his parents’ confusion and embarrassment. Thankfully, they wrapped their minds around it when they realized it wasn’t a phase and Hinata was not going to change his mind, and have been supportive of his journey ever since.

Japan, however, is not the most accepting of places for LGBTQ folk, so when he got into Hope’s Peak, an Academy renowned by being open-minded and accommodating to all students, Hinata made sure to tell the Headmaster that he wanted all of his records to state that he was male. Full stop.

Which is why he is hiding under that stupidly thin blanket on an uncomfortable bed in the school infirmary, a can of lemon soda on the bedside table — because he had to say to the uncaring nurse that he had a stomach bug of some kind. Stupid, he knows, but it gave him such a thrill to be able to pass as a cisgender male, that it was all worth it.

Just as Hinata resigns himself to spending the rest of the school day in pain, he hears a familiar, breathy voice.

“Komaeda?” He peeks his head out of the cover of the blanket to blink at the white-haired boy sitting on the examination table by the infirmary door, getting his hand bandaged by a very frazzled Tsumiki, with the bored-looking nurse observing over her shoulder.

“Hinata-kun!” Komaeda’s head whips in his direction, a genuine smile spreading across his pretty face. Hinata’s cheeks grow warm. “What are you doing here?”

Hinata shifts nervously. Him and Komaeda had recently gotten over their differences and began talking (…and other, more intimate, things), but Hinata hadn’t come out to him yet. It felt too awkward to mention in passing conversation, but there was also the chance that Komaeda would lose interest in him once he knew. And that… Hinata wasn’t sure he could deal with that just yet.

“Stomach bug,” he mumbles, lowering his eyes to Komaeda’s hand. “What happened to you?”

“Oh, nothing important!” Komaeda exclaims, waving his free hand dismissively. “I scratched myself, nothing major. You know how clumsy I can get!”

“W-w-well,” Tsumiki stutters. “It was ac-actually a b-b-big cut, K-Komaeda-san! And it’s r-r-r-risky, with y-your cond-conditio—,” Komaeda shoots her a dark look, making her squeak in fear and drop the roll of sterile bandages.

“It’s fine!” Komaeda lifts his bandaged hand, moving it around to show Tsumiki, Hinata and the nurse that the bleeding had stopped and the wound was properly covered. “See? I’m all good. You can go back to class, Tsumiki-san!”

The nurse nods and goes back to sit at her desk, whipping out a gossip magazine, featuring their senpai, Maizono-san, on the cover.

“A-alright, Komaeda-san,” Tsumiki bows deeply to him, then turns to bow at Hinata as well. “R-rest a little, p-p-please! And get better soon, H-Hinata-san!”

Hinata nods goodbye at her absent-mindedly, ignoring her fumbling exit and choosing instead to watch Komaeda as he jumps off the exam table and makes his way over to him.

“So, stomach bug?” Komaeda sits himself on the edge of the bed, facing Hinata. He wrings his hands in his lap for a moment before extending one to carefully push a stray lock of Hinata’s fringe away from his forehead. It’s an intimate gesture in a semi-public place, and Hinata’s eyes dart towards the nurse, but she seems too focused on the magazine to pay them any attention. “My poor Hinata-kun…”

Hinata flushes, butterflies fluttering in his stomach. “It’s okay,” he mumbles. He’s considering pulling a hand out from underneath the blanket and running his fingertips along Komaeda’s delicate knuckles, asking him what happened to his hand, maybe entwine their fingers if he feels brave enough, but another cramp hits him hard, and all he can do is curl tighter, his eyes squeezing shut as he tries to stave off the newest wave of accompanying nausea.

Komaeda’s fingers comb through his hair sweetly, and all Hinata wants to do is melt into his touch. “Sorry,” he eventually says, wincing internally at how frail his voice sounds. “I’m not the best company today.”

When he opens his eyes again, Komaeda is frowning at him with concern in his silvery eyes. “Hinata-kun,” he murmurs, “you should probably go home and get some proper rest.”

Hinata shakes his head, then has to close his eyes for a second as the room tilts dangerously. “No, it’s fine! I gotta go back to class anyway.”

“You’re definitely not going back to class,” Komaeda says, a pale eyebrow lifted. God, Hinata loves how expressive his face is. He watches as the pale boy whips out his phone and taps the screen a few times before slipping it into his pocket again. “Come on. I’m taking you home.”

“Ah,” Hinata winces. He doesn’t want to go back to his room. It’s a shared dorm, and his dorm mate, another boy from the reserve course, is the loudest, messiest, boy-est person he’s ever met. “It’s— it’s okay, I’ll just stay here.”

“You misunderstand me,” Komaeda smirks, helping Hinata sit up and grabbing his shoes. “I know you share a dorm room, so — I’m taking you to my place.”

“A-ah.” Hinata repeats, flushing again. They haven’t been in each other’s rooms yet, so this feels more intimate than anything they had done before — even more intimate than making out in the hidden corner of the reserve course library, apparently. “What— what about your classes?”

“We’re not graded by attendance in the main course. And don’t worry,” he says faux-casually, kneeling next to the bed and slipping Hinata’s shoes onto his feet, neatly tightening the laces before tying them in a pretty little bow. “Nothing has to happen between us, it’s just so you have a more comfortable space to rest in.”

Komaeda glances up, and Hinata notices his cheeks are flushed a pretty pink. He has pale, faint freckles on his nose, Hinata realizes — it makes his heart race to notice such a tiny detail.

“Unless you don’t want to?” He asks, head cocked to the side as he stands back up, holding his hand out to Hinata.

“No, no, yeah, it’s…,” he fumbles, taking Komaeda's extended hand and standing up. Hinata looks up those two inches Komaeda has on him and meets his eyes, sees the tentative hope in their depths — his pulse stutters at how close they’re standing. He smiles through the dull, constant pain in his lower back and stomach. “That sounds… really nice.”

——

They ride to Komaeda’s home in a sleek black car, with tinted windows and a privacy screen separating them from the driver — the driver, who wears a black suit and hat, as well as white driving gloves, just like you see in those Hollywood movies, and who opened the door for both of them with nothing more than a polite nod. It’s fancy and foreign, and Hinata sits stiffly, hoping he doesn’t bleed onto the obviously expensive cream leather seats.

Komaeda sits by the opposite window, his tie and top button half undone. He’s watching the world fly by outside the car window, but his hand rests on the seat between them, palm up in an obvious invitation.

Hinata breathes through the sharp pain of a new cramp, and places his hand in Komaeda’s.

Out of the corner of his eye, he thinks he sees the other boy smile.

——

After the shock of the fancy car and the polite driver, Hinata shouldn’t be feeling the way he is — and yet, surprise and wonder flows through him as Komaeda leads him inside his home. Well, inside his mansion.

He kicks off his shoes in a daze, gawking at the wide expanse of white marble floors and tall ceilings, the walls decorated by expensive paintings. As Komaeda takes him by the hand up the lavish staircase with an ornate handrail, he can’t help but feel like he’s in a museum, not a home. It feels too performative, too impersonal. Hinata wonders what Komaeda’s parents do to have such an opulent home.

Finally, after it feels like he just took a tour through the Louvre, Komaeda rushes him into an actual, lived-in space. “Stay here,” he says, ducking into what has to be the en-suite bathroom as Hinata looks around the potted plants, filled bookshelves, and piles of magazines about Hope’s Peak Academy. He’s such a fanboy, he thinks fondly, pretending the walls of his own bedroom at home aren’t covered in posters of Hope’s Peak alumni.

“There, change into these — hopefully they’ll fit alright,” Komaeda smiles, handing him a set of pyjamas that are softer than anything Hinata ever touched before. He sheepishly hopes he doesn’t bleed through — everything here is worth more than his own existence. “I’ll be right back.”

Hinata changes into the soft, comfy pyjamas, his heart just as soft for a short moment. Who could have told him that Komaeda — harsh, sneering, uppity Komaeda, the who teased and taunted him for being a mere reserve course — that this Komaeda was the same as that Komaeda. He smiles, touching the lapel of Komaeda’s signature green jacket, and then something inside him clenches — literally— and he has to hold onto the desk chair. He feels so sick so suddenly that he’s unsure if he can stay upright for much longer, so he half-shuffles, half-stumbles to the bed, cradling his stomach, dark spots at the edge of his vision. Even his thighs are cramping, the muscles winding themselves so tightly into knots that he falters and tilts forward, collapsing onto the bed in a moaning heap. Fuck.

Of course, Komaeda choses that moment to walk back in the room, arms full of items he haphazardly drops onto the desk. ��Hinata-kun!” He exclaims, rushing over to a curled up Hinata and placing a cold hand on his back. “Are you okay?”

Hinata groans into the plush comforter, embarrassment creeping over him.

“Hmm,” Komaeda hums sympathetically, rubbing his hand over his spine, up, then down, then soothing circles on the small of his back, right where it aches. “Get under the covers, will you, Hinata-kun? I’ll help.”

Hinata nods, feeling grateful, if a little pathetic, and shuffles into Komaeda’s bed. The mattress is nice, without any springs pushing through and poking him in the ass, and the bedsheets slide over his skin pleasantly, cooling his feverish skin. His eyes slide shut without him thinking about it, the quiet, shaded room doing wonders to his nausea, and even though he’s half-sitting, slouched uncomfortably forwards, he feels closer to falling asleep than he did in the two hours he spent laying down in the infirmary ward at Hope’s Peak.

Komaeda touches his shoulder gently. “Ah, and, Hinata-kun,” he says, fingertips touching the cropped hair at the nape of his neck, “you should take off your binder before laying down.”

Crap.

Hinata freezes, his eyes staring unseeing at the light grey duvet. Crap, crap, crap! He hadn’t come out to Komaeda yet, not because he hadn’t wanted to, but because… Well, truthfully, because he’d been scared. What if Komaeda lost interest in him? What if Komaeda felt… betrayed, lied to? Or, worse yet — what if Komaeda didn’t care, because he wasn’t actually that into Hinata, because this was just a bit of fun to him? All of these, and worse, had made Hinata’s insides shrivel in panic, and so he hadn’t told him. And now… Now Komaeda knows, somehow, and must be feeling so disappointed in him.

Hinata bites his lower lip and reaches behind himself for the binder clasp. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Komaeda politely busying himself with the items he had dropped onto the desk, and shame overflows from his pores, from his bloodstream, from his eyes. He rips his binder off and throws it somewhere close to the rest of his clothes, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand before laying down in a foetal position, facing away from Komaeda’s tall, slender figure.

Fuck. He should have said no to Komaeda back then, should have stayed in the uncomfortable infirmary cot and suffered, in silence, all alone, like he deserves for continuously failing to meet even the lowest of other people’s expectations of him.

“Hinata-kun,” Komaeda murmurs, brushing Hinata’s hair back with gentle fingers. “I have some tea for you.”

“S’okay,” Hinata murmurs moodily. “Don’t worry ‘bout me. I’ll be out of your hair soon. Sorry.”

Komaeda shuffles behind him, then places the mug on the nightstand. Hinata hears him step away from the bed, and smiles bitterly. There, just as he deserves.

But Komaeda walks back towards him. The bed shifts behind Hinata’s back, and then there’s a hand on his back again. “Alright, no tea,” Komaeda says quietly. “How about a hot water bottle, then? It always helps me whenever I’m cramping.”

It takes Hinata longer than he’d like to admit for the words to register in his brain. Does Komaeda mean…?

Pushing through the debilitating pain, Hinata sits up and turns himself around to face Komaeda. “You mean…?”

Komaeda smiles at him. “What, you thought you were the only trans kid at a school like Hope’s Peak?” He chuckles, not unkindly, and touches Hinata’s hand again, his thin, pale fingertips curling around Hinata’s thicker, tanner ones. “Half of my class is trans, Hinata-kun, myself included.”

“Oh.” Hinata licks his lips sheepishly, then curls up again. “Ow…”

Komaeda passes him the tea with a quirked eyebrow. “Drink. I’m getting changed and then I’ll rub your back while you rest.”

——

Hinata thanks whatever higher power there is that his cramping hit him on a Thursday, because it lets him spend the rest of the weekend at Komaeda’s. That Friday he’s practically bedridden, fighting back a migraine and waves of horrible cramping that leave him silently weeping in pain — thankfully he has Komaeda taking care of him, getting him cold patches for his forehead and hot water bottles for his stomach, rubbing his back and petting his head and kissing him all better. Hinata feels pampered, loved even, and he recovers quicker than ever.

By Saturday afternoon, he’s able to have lunch with Komaeda on his balcony, holding his hand and gawking at his view of Hope’s Peak campus. They share a lot about themselves on that weekend — about their families (or lack of it, in Komaeda’s case), about coming out, about their hopes for the future. Hinata learns about Komaeda’s health issues, about how bitter and hopeless he had felt when he started at Hope’s Peak, about how he is now starting to see a glimmer of hope in his future, and thinks about how lucky he is to be close to someone like Komaeda.

They learn about each other that weekend and find themselves falling harder for the other. On Sunday evening, when Komaeda’s driver takes Hinata home to his dormitory, they cuddle up on the backseat, sharing quiet laughs and quick kisses. Unwilling to let each other go, it takes them over thirty minutes to part ways, and only after a promise to meet for lunch on Monday does Hinata leave the car, slipping into his dorm building without looking back so he wouldn’t give into the temptation of going back into Komaeda’s arms.

He steps over the carelessly discarded books and chocolate wrappers on the floor and quickly changes into his pyjamas, still on cloud nine. He crashes onto the bed, the springy mattress poking his back, and pulls the scratchy covers over his head. He smiles at his phone, at the new photo of himself and Komaeda that he had just set as his wallpaper, pink-cheeked and squished together to fit into the phone camera, and then smiles wider as a notification from the other boy pops up.

Even though his body aches from two days of cramping, even though the bed is infinitely less comfortable than Komaeda’s, even though he’s alone in the middle of someone else’s mess — Hinata feels like he’s never been happier.

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanfiction #sfw #suggestive #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #sdr2 #dr3

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

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Artist: @scienceisanart

For: @glittrz-n-sparklz on Tumblr

Prompt: Kamukoma being sweet and wholesome, bonding over music

Notes: I used my own music taste for this, featuring lyrics from "I Am a Stone" by Demon Hunter (imho a very fitting song for Hinata) but I included a blank version for people with different tastes. But damn I love these two in alt/emo fits.

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanart #sfw #kamukoma #nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #dr #dr3

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

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Title: Worthwhile

By: ShortHairIzuru

For: @/bunnikaroon on twt

Pairing: Kamukoma

Rating/Warnings: Teen+, Major Character Injury

Prompt: servant gets hurt and kamukura takes care of him

Author Notes: hiiiii nika i hope you like the kamukoma thanks for letting me write a sick fic about them

Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52180744

Travel was never perfectly safe during the Tragedy. Between buildings collapsing, Monokumas firing off weapons on every other street, and people who had succumbed to despair attacking anyone they saw, even those who were extremely cautious were not always immune to accidents.

Kamukura and Komaeda were more than extremely cautious, however. Luck favored both of them, and even if Komaeda was a bit clumsier, Kamukura moved gracefully enough that it didn’t matter. Kamukura kept them both hidden from everyone, which in turn kept them nearly undetectable from most Monokumas that patrolled the streets of Towa city. They were able to dodge most debris that tended to fall at random intervals, mostly because Kamukura always heard anything long before it fell. They were much safer than the average person traveling. Though, neither of them were average, so it made sense.

Neither of them, however, were anticipating a bomb going off in a building they were walking by. Kamukura’s reflexes were good, so both of them were shielded from much of the initial blast save for being coated in a thick layer of dust, but both of their ears were ringing and the ground was covered in rumble, making their footing uneven. It was not anything either of them were particularly unused to, though it did make travel more difficult. And the loud ringing in their ears meant that Kamukura did not hear the piece of the wall above them break and start to fall until it was too late.

Kamukura did hear the rubble land right behind him as well as the yelp that Komaeda let out, making him whip around to see his leg pinned under a chunk of concrete. Nearly instantly, Kamukura was moving the debris off of him and inspecting the injury.

“Haha, I suppose I needed to pay a bit more attention after the bomb, didn’t I? I apologize!” Despite his casual tone, Komaeda was taking much shallower breaths and was clearly masking a lot of pain, hissing a bit as Kamukura moved more rubble. “Kamukura-sama, you don’t need to spend this time freeing me! It would be better if you just left–”

“Quiet.” Kamukura was already tearing spare fabric from the other leg of Komaeda’s jeans to make a tourniquet and stop the immediate bleeding. “You know quite well I am not leaving you behind, especially when you are injured.” Komaeda’s lower leg was crushed and he would be unable to walk for some time. As soon as Kamukura had done what he could there, he silently picked him up and began moving again towards the closest safe building where he could actually provide medical care.

“Kamukura-sama is so kind to care for a bug like me…” He said much quieter than he typically would. Kamukura didn’t respond and just kept moving through the city, searching for a place that would at least have running water. It took some time and if Komaeda was being as observant as he normally was, he could have noticed that Kamukura was maybe a bit frustrated as he searched. But he wasn’t all that focused on parsing Kamukura’s microexpressions so much as he was on the terrible pain that was coming from his leg.

Komaeda didn’t exactly know when they made it inside somewhere, given that he had found himself fading a bit in and out of consciousness from how much pain he was in. But at some point he opened his eyes again and he was laying down on a torn up sofa rather than being carried. Somewhere, he could hear a faucet weakly running. He couldn’t see Kamukura nearby, but he couldn’t really sit up to look beyond the immediate area around him, so he settled for staring at the cracked ceiling above him instead.

The next time he found himself conscious, it was because his leg hurt more. He had been doing his best to stay quiet through all this, but suddenly the pain became ten times more intense and he couldn’t help but whimper as he blinked his eyes open. He looked and saw that Kamukura had returned and was kneeling next to the sofa, lifting his leg slightly as he began actually working to stabilize the injury.

“I apologize, Kamukura-sama… You don’t have to do all this…”

“I already stated I was not leaving you behind. Save your energy, this will take time.” Perhaps it was because Komaeda was still drifting in and out a bit, but Kamukura’s voice felt softer than normal.

“What bad luck, an accident like this delaying our journey. Though, I do suppose it has been some time since something went awry for us.” Kamukura lifted his leg slightly and Komaeda cried out in response, tears pricking the corners of his eyes as the pain shot through him.

“I could not hear what was happening after the explosion. There was little either of us could have done.” Kamukura seemingly ignored Komaeda’s cry of pain and kept working to clean the wound to the best of his abilities. “This will hurt more.” And, as promised, a searing pain burned through his leg as Kamukura reset the bone and Komaeda couldn’t help but cry out again. He expected Kamukura to tell him to be quiet again, but Kamukura was silent as he worked to more effectively stop the bleeding and splint Komaeda’s leg.

“Kamukura-sama…” he breathed out, his voice shaking.

“Hm.”

“Is it alright if I go unconscious? I… I’m afraid this hurts too much.”

“I have already stated that you need to save your energy.” Kamukura didn’t look up from his work and shortly thereafter Komaeda’s vision darkened and he was out.

When he woke up again he found his head in Kamukura’s lap, with Kamukura’s hand idly detangling his curls while he worked in his notebook with his other hand. His leg still hurt, of course, but he lifted his head to see that it was now fully bandaged and splinted. He then looked up to Kamukura’s face, which was still and expressionless as always.

“Do not move too much. Your body is spending most of its energy on healing.”

“How long have I been unconscious?”

“Six hours, twenty-three minutes.”

“What have you been doing for that time?”

“Sitting here.”

Komaeda furrowed his brows a bit. “The whole time? Surely you have better things to do than sit here.”

“It would be dangerous to leave you alone while you are unable to move.” Kamukura kept working in his journal as he spoke, not bothering to look at Komaeda.

“That shouldn’t be your concern, Kamukura-sama. I do not mind being left alone.”

“I am not leaving you,” he replied flatly.

“If you insist, who am I to stop you? I just don’t want you wasting your time.”

Kamukura finally moved his gaze to Komaeda’s face, staring down without any expression. “You do not decide how my time is spent, nor what constitutes a ‘waste of time’ for me.” There was no bite to his words, not that there ever was. Still, from most anyone else, his statement would feel almost chiding. Yet Komaeda could hear the faintest amount of softness (at least what was possible for him) in Kamukura’s speech.

He didn’t respond and Kamukura returned to his journal, keeping his free hand in Komaeda’s curls and gently working out knots without pulling too hard on his scalp. Komaeda decided to just watch him quietly. It was not like he could do much else, anyway. Kamukura did not care if Komaeda watched him.

Kamukura’s face was one that most saw as cold and empty. His features were sharper than many people’s, his dark hair bringing out how pale his skin was and his eyes constantly burning holes in the people he analyzed. Komaeda never saw him as empty, though. He more so saw him as deliberate. Deliberate with what he did, what he gave time to, what he decided was important. Most things were not.

Komaeda didn’t think he was important. He knew he wasn’t important. And yet, with everything he saw, Kamukura was perhaps the most deliberate when it came to him.

“What is Kamukura-sama writing?” Komaeda finally asked, breaking the silence.

“I am not writing.”

“Then what are you doing?” Instead of verbally responding, he just turned his notebook around and showed what he had been working on, which was a detailed portrait of Komaeda. His eyes widened as he looked at what could have been a photograph of him. “Surely Kamukura-sama could find more worthy subjects than a piece of trash like me…”

“I have already told you that you do not dictate what I deem worthwhile.”

“I suppose you did, I just can’t believe you continue to spend energy on me when there are so many more important things to do.” He looked back up at Kamukura. “I mean, Kamukura-sama could be doing so much but instead he’s sitting with me.”

“I do not wish to be doing anything else.” Kamukura pulled the notebook back to face him and continued drawing. “What you deem as important is dull to me. I have no interest in using my talents to further any agendas.”

Komaeda furrowed his brow. “Oh, I don’t believe you need to do anything specific. It’s simply that anything you do would be important and yet you are spending your time caring for someone unimportant.”

Kamukura looked at him again and tilted his head. “You are not unimportant. And regardless, you do not get to tell me what is and is not worth my time, as I have already stated. I do not understand why this needs repeating.”

“I…” Komaeda trailed off, because he didn’t want to correct Kamukura. And he was not trying to tell Kamukura how to spend his time. “I do not think you need to spend your time in any specific way. I suppose I am just surprised Kamukura-sama wishes to spend his time with me.”

“I have been quite clear that I do and have demonstrated such through my staying with you. I am unsure as to how this is surprising to you.”

“You have been. Perhaps it is just not sinking in.” Komaeda laid on Kamukura’s lap quietly after that, listening to the quiet scratching of Kamukura’s pen on paper and attempting to focus on Kamukura’s hand in his hair rather than the throbbing coming from his leg. But without any talking, keeping his attention away from the pain was much more difficult. Unconsciously, he found himself nuzzling into Kamukura’s hand and squeezing his eyes shut in a somewhat futile attempt to rest again.

“Would you like something for the pain? I would have to go out and find it, as I do not believe either of us carry something strong enough.”

“Aha, that’s not necessary. I’m perfectly fine.”

Kamukura looked at him for a moment before clicking his tongue. “You are not. I will go find a pain reliever.” Very gently, Kamukura moved out from underneath Komaeda and moved a ratty throw pillow under his head. “I will be back shortly,” he said as he stood and without looking back, he walked out of the room, leaving Komaeda in the relative quiet. Without the distraction of Kamukura, Komaeda no longer had anything to keep his mind off of the pain and quickly found himself wavering into unconsciousness again.

Kamukura had several ideas of where to find strong painkillers nearby, as he had spotted several abandoned pharmacies and clinics while searching for a place to tend to Komaeda’s leg. It mostly came down to which locations had not already been thoroughly looted, but with his luck, he assumed that at least one of them would have what he was looking for. He started in a pharmacy just two blocks away and began searching through the back shelves for anything that might be useful. Most of the medication had already been taken, but there were still some things there, though any strong painkillers were long gone, it seemed.

He started to leave, passing the broken front shelves, not paying much mind to what was left until he saw a bright yellow package out of the corner of his eye. Kamukura paused and turned to inspect the item, identifying it to be a box of Blue Ram. He remembered it was a drink that Komaeda liked, though he himself never saw the appeal of it. Still, he grabbed the box and put it in his bag before leaving the building and continuing to the next clinic to keep searching.

He ended up finding something that would work in the third place he checked. It was always a bit more difficult to find medicine for Komaeda given all of his medical complications. If Kamukura had access to equipment to make the things that were needed, it would be much less of an issue, but just coming across medical supplies in the first place was lucky. Given everything, Kamukura decided that perhaps their next stop would be somewhere he could more effectively prepare for their travels. There were likely hospitals and pharmacies more untouched where he could synthesize medication both for incidents like this as well as for long term treatment of Komaeda’s various ailments. But that was for another time. For now, he needed to return to the hideaway he had found for them to get Komaeda the pain reliever.

When he walked back through the door, Kamukura saw that Komaeda was asleep again on the couch, unsurprisingly. He was not thrilled that he had left him alone, but retrieving the medication had been necessary and it seemed as though no additional harm had come to him. Kamukura walked over to the couch and squatted so that he would be more at eye level with Komaeda before brushing hair out of his face to wake him gently. He let out a small groan as he stirred and blinked his eyes open, focusing eventually on Kamukura’s face in front of him.

“Hm, Kamukura-sama, you came back after all…”

“I stated I would. I have never given you indication that I would go back on my word.”

“I wouldn’t blame you if you decided that I was too much of a burden to travel with.”

“I do not understand why you are insistent on believing I will change my mind on this.” Kamukura went into his bag and pulled out the medicine and a bottle of water. “This will help with the pain and it is important to drink water while you are healing.” Without asking, he began helping Komaeda sit up a bit so that he could drink more easily.

“Thank you.” He winced a bit as he readjusted but took the pills and water from Kamukura anyway. “How long were you gone? I think I may have fallen asleep again.”

“Two hours and thirteen minutes. I checked a total of three locations.” Kamukura stood up again and sat in a chair near the couch.

“Oh, that wasn’t necessary. I would’ve been quite alright without anything. Kamukura-sama didn’t need to go out of his way like that.”

“I am uninterested in you continuing to be in pain, Komaeda. Taking the medication will alleviate your suffering.” Kamukura picked up his journal again and opened it back up to what Komaeda could assume was the drawing he had been working on before.

“Please don’t think I’m not grateful! I just don’t want you…” Komaeda was going to say wasting time again, but he thought better of it and cut himself off, opening the medicine bottle and taking out two pills to take with a drink of water. The two of them once again sat quietly in the room, with Kamukura sketching and Komaeda waiting for the medicine to kick in. Komaeda watched Kamukura work, noting when he flipped to a new page in the notebook to, he assumed, begin a new drawing.

It was Kamukura who broke the silence eventually. “The first pharmacy I checked had the drink you liked. It is in my bag if you would like it.” Kamukura had placed his bag near the couch, so Komaeda could easily reach it without straining. Komaeda raised an eyebrow and reached down to find the box of Blue Ram. He looked back up at Kamukura, who was focused on his journal and had not bothered to look at Komaeda while alerting him to the drink’s existence.

“How did you know I liked this?”

“You mentioned it once several months ago when we were in a corner store you knew used to sell it. I believe you were bemoaning it no longer being there.”

Komaeda blinked. “I’m surprised you remember that.”

“You know my memory is perfect.”

“I suppose I do, I just don’t believe that is something worth remembering.”

Kamukura looked up at him and tilted his head again. “Why not?”

“I don’t see a reason for you needing to know my preferences.”

“I want to know them.”

Komaeda blinked again. “Why?”

“Is it not common to wish to know the preferences of the people you care about?” Kamukura had never directly said he cared about Komaeda before, though it was not exactly hidden. Still, given that he had never said it up until this point, Komaeda had been able to pretend that it wasn’t true. Why exactly he wanted to continue to pretend that, he wasn’t sure. Perhaps it was just easier that way.

“I’m not sure I’m the best person to ask,” he finally said rather quietly. “But thank you.”

“There is no reason to thank me.” Kamukura returned his focus to his notebook once again and they returned to the silence that they often sat in together. The sunlight outside was fading and there was not much light available in the room they were in, so eventually Kamukura closed the journal and stood to tuck it back into his bag. “You need to rest more.”

“The medicine is making me rather tired,” Komaeda said with a slight chuckle. Kamukura nodded once and wordlessly began helping Komaeda lay back down before sitting on the couch and letting Komaeda rest his head in his lap again, weaving his fingers into his hair once more. Komaeda couldn’t lie and say that the touch wasn’t comforting, nor could he say that it didn’t help take his mind off his leg just a bit. “Is Kamukura-sama going to sleep as well?”

“That is not your concern.”

“Is it not common to take note of what the people you care about are doing?”

Kamukura hummed a bit and didn’t say anything for a moment. “I will rest my eyes a bit, but I want to stay ready in case anything should happen.”

“Always paranoid.”

“A building collapsed on you earlier and I did not catch it.”

Komaeda rolled his eyes a bit as he nuzzled into Kamukura’s hand again. “You said it yourself that there was not much either of us could’ve done to have prevented it.”

“Perhaps not.”

“I will not tell Kamukura-sama what to do. but resting will not hurt you.” Kamukura just nodded once and started gently detangling Komaeda’s hair again, which was enough in combination with the medication to lull him to sleep.

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanfiction #sfw #kamukoma #nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #dr #dr3

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

Photo

Artist: mxcheddarcheese For: sou_sins Prompt: Domestic Kamukoma Artist notes: super cute! Loved working on this

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanart #sfw #kamukoma #nagito komaeda #izuru kamukura #dr #sdr2 #dr3

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

Photo

Artist: @karugoround

For @mikikuwah

YANDERE HINATAAA thank you so much for this prompt!!

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanart #suggestive #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #sdr2 #dr3

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

Text

evening snow

Artist: axel

For: @nnykoi

Prompt: winter outfits

Artist's notes: Hope you like it!

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanart #sfw #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #dr #sdr2

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kmhnsecretexchange · 4 months

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Title: Kokkuri, Kokkuri

Author: psychodive

For: katspawprint

Pairings/Characters: Komaeda/Hinata

Rating/Warnings: Gen

Prompt: Hinata invites Komaeda to stay over with him the first night of the killing game (i.e. before they know they’ve lost their memories etc) because he’s scared but still trusts Komaeda (and he’s probably a little worried about Komaeda’s safety too). Komaeda has never stayed over at a friend’s house, so Hinata tries to show him what it’s like (playing games, sharing snacks, deep talks). At some point things get a little more romantic than friendly.

Author’s notes: Hope you enjoy reading it!

After Monokuma’s appearance and the game he’d set for them, Hinata had gone back to his assigned cottage in a daze. He wasn’t sure what the others on the island were doing — maybe discussing things or eating dinner — but he was simply curled up in his bed, feeling cold. He hadn’t even taken off his shoes.

The sun was beginning to set now, beaming in through the wooden blinds over his windows to turn the interior of the cottage into gold. It had been such a beautiful day, and everyone had been mostly nice if a little weird. Hinata felt nauseous. There was a dark pit in his stomach, a yawning void that he feared he might stumble into at any moment.

He grabbed one of the pillows on the bed, buried his face into it, and screamed.

If he thought about Monokuma’s game logically, it would be ideal to kill as soon as possible, when none of them knew each other that well. What was the alternative? They all stayed on this island, forever? He couldn’t stomach the idea of giving into either of those options — but if he was having these thoughts, then there was no doubt that at least some of the others were doing the same. All it took was one person and…

There was a knock on his door.

Hinata froze, his fingers still digging into the pillow. He didn’t have any weapons to defend himself with — all he had was this stupid pillow! Would anybody really try it on the first night? If so, why him?

…He’d fainted earlier. He couldn’t remember his talent. He was the only who’d refused to go along with Usami’s charade. He was weak, he was an outsider, he was boring, he…

“Hinata-kun?” a worried voice called out from behind the door. “Are you alright in there?”

Hinata sat up. “Komaeda?” he replied cautiously. “Is that you?”

“Yes, it’s me!” There was obvious relief in his voice. “I heard you screaming from outside.”

Hinata flushed, getting up to open the door. Here he was worrying about looking like an easy target while screaming bloody murder for no reason. “Hi Komaeda,” he said sheepishly, meeting the other boy’s eyes. “Sorry, I was just…” he trailed off, unsure of what he was even supposed to say in this fucked-up situation. Another scream threatened to rise from his throat.

“It’s fine, I understand,” Komaeda said, though he still had a concerned look on his face. His hair had gone frizzy from his brief time in the ocean earlier. Had that really just been this afternoon? It felt like eons had passed since then. “You’re hurt.”

“Huh?”

Komaeda motioned to his own cheek. “You’ve got a cut here,” he said. “It’s bleeding.”

Hinata lightly touched the area, startling when it began to sting. His fingers, when he pulled them away, were bloody. “I… I forgot about that,” he said, and then realized just how close of a call that bullet had been. His fingers began to tremble in front of him.

“Hinata-kun, would you mind if I came in?” Komaeda’s voice cut through his sudden panic.

“Uh, sure,” Hinata mumbled, stepping back to let the other boy in.

“Sorry to disturb,” Komaeda said politely as he stepped inside. Then he put an insistent hand on Hinata’s arm and steered him over to the small couch in the cottage. “Here, sit down.”

Hinata did as he was told, the panic giving way to numbness. Komaeda sat down next to him, reaching into the pocket of his jacket to pull out a disposable alcohol wipe, which he used to gently wipe at the bloody cut on Hinata’s cheek, and a plain band-aid that he carefully placed over it.

Hinata blinked at him. “Thanks,” he said. “You’re really prepared, huh.”

“Hah, it’s nothing,” Komaeda said, waving his hand in dismissal. “I have to be, with my luck.” He handed Hinata another wipe, which Hinata used to clean off his bloody fingers, and then stood up. “I’ll leave you alone now. Apologies for intruding.”

“Wait!” Hinata grabbed his sleeve, then quickly let go in embarrassment. “Um, I mean…” He didn’t want to admit that he was nervous about being left alone. He wished Komaeda would just figure that out himself without Hinata having to say anything, but the other boy just waited patiently for him to go on.

“Do you want to… sleep over?” Hinata finally forced out. “I mean, it’s kind of dangerous to be alone right now, right? Safety in numbers and all that?”

Komaeda looked somewhat stunned. “Really?” he said, grabbing Hinata’s hands. Hinata flushed. “Of course I will!” He paused. “Though, I don’t know if I’ll actually be able to sleep. That’s why I was out taking a walk. I have terrible insomnia.”

“That’s fine,” Hinata said quickly. It made him uneasy to think of Komaeda wandering around alone in the dark despite everything. He couldn’t help but feel like the guy was just a little too carefree for his own good. “Sleepovers aren’t really for sleeping, anyway.”

“Is that so?” Komaeda tilted his head. “I’m afraid I’ve never been to one before.”

“It’s more like just playing games and chatting and stuff?” Hinata said. “Though, the last time I went to one was in elementary school, so maybe people do something more exciting nowadays…“

“Playing games sounds fun!” Komaeda said. “As long as there’s no element of randomness, or my luck might cause some problems.”

“Uh, yeah, your luck…” Hinata said. Komaeda had mentioned it before, but Hinata still couldn’t really wrap his head around how luck could be a talent — not that he had much right to talk when he couldn’t even remember his own. “In that case, why don’t you pick the game?”

“Hmm,” Komaeda looked thoughtful. “How about Kokkuri?”

“Huh?!” Hinata yelped. “Why something like that right now?!”

“Oh, is it no good?”

“N-no…” Hinata wilted under Komaeda’s disappointed gaze. “It’s fine. It’s just… a little morbid, don’t you think?”

“Haha, really?” Komaeda instantly looked cheerful again. He stood up to open the window next to the couch, letting the night air blow in gently and cool the room down. “I thought you would think it childish. I personally find comfort in games that claim to tell your future, especially when the present is so precarious.”

“I guess so,” Hinata said hesitantly. He couldn’t say he agreed, necessarily, but he sort of understood where Komaeda was coming from. He watched as Komaeda wandered over to TV console, rifling around in one of the drawer before triumphantly pulling out a blank notepad and a couple of pens.

There was a garish, tacky-looking logo stamped on the items that reminded him of Monokuma’s red eye. He felt vaguely nauseous when he thought about it.

Komaeda sat down next to him again, then frowned. “Ah, I forgot. We need a coin.”

“Oh, right. I guess one of these would probably work?” Hinata reached into his pocket and pulled out of the weird coins he’d found while exploring the island earlier.

Komaeda took one of the coins and inspected it, grimacing at the engraving of Monokuma’s face that stared back at him. “Well, it’s unorthodox, but I suppose it’ll do,” he muttered.

Hinata watched as he drew the simple shape of a shrine gate in red in the top center of the paper, wrote out the words YES and NO on either side of it, and then drew out the letter grid underneath it.

“You know,” Hinata said. “I can’t remember the last time I played this game.”

He had meant it as a light-hearted remark just to fill the silence, but after he said it aloud, he realized how true it was. The harder he tried to recall the memory, the faster it seemed to slip away, like sand falling through the sieve of his mind.

“Hinata-kun,” Komaeda said softly. Hinata startled, his eyes darting up to meet Komaeda’s own. They were gray in the dim light of the room, kind but calculating. Hinata was relieved when Komaeda chose not to prod further. “I’ve only played Kokkuri once before,” he said instead. “I was about ten years old, then, and I played it by myself.”

Hinata’s eyes widened. “Seriously?” he said. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

Komaeda let out a quiet laugh. “Only if you’re susceptible to self-suggestion,” he said, placing the paper on the coffee table in front of them and the coin on its starting position within the shrine gate. “Or believe in spirits. Which one are you, Hinata-kun?”

Hinata frowned. “Neither, I think,” he said. “But after today, I really don’t know anymore.”

“Well,” Komaeda said. “Perhaps we’ll find out.”

They both placed their index fingers on the coin and said the childish chant in unison.

“Kokkuri-san, Kokkuri-san, come and play. If you’re here, then please say.”

It took a moment, but, slowly, the coin slid over to YES.

Hinata felt a shiver run through him, but he blamed that on the open window right next to him.

“Seems like we’re not alone, after all, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda said teasingly, his mouth twisted into a grin. Hinata rolled his eyes and they slid the coin back to the shrine gate. “Would you like the honor of the first question?”

“Sure, why not,” Hinata muttered. The first question was typically an easy yes-or-no question that he already knew the answer to, so they could gauge whether the spirit was feeling tricky or truthful. “Kokkuri-san, and I forgetting something?”

The coin slid to YES.

“I guess we can trust Kokkuri-san tonight!” Komaeda said as they returned the coin to its starting position once again. “Kokkuri-san, is there any hope to be found in this situation?”

YES.

“That’s… actually weirdly comforting to hear,” Hinata said.

“Much better than the alternative, that’s for certain!” Komaeda smiled at him. “That’s the point of the game, no?”

Hinata pouted a little. “Hey, Kokkuri-san, is Komaeda always right or something?”

NO.

“I guess we can’t let your ego get too big,” Hinata said.

“I would hardly claim otherwise, Hinata-kun!” Komaeda took a moment to think over his next question. “Kokkuri-san, what — or who — is Monokuma?”

The coin moved to spell out BEAR.

“I was hoping for a little more information than that,” Komaeda sighed. “Your turn again, Hinata-kun.”

It felt a little silly to ask, but what could it hurt? “Kokkuri-san, what’s my talent?”

The coin wavered in place for a long moment. “Figures,” Hinata muttered, unable to help his disappointment.

Komaeda’s left hand, the one he wasn’t using to touch the coin, moved to rest over Hinata’s free right hand. “I’m sure whatever talent Hinata-kun has is something dazzling,” he said. “So much so that Kokkuri-san can’t even say it!”

Hinata stared at Komaeda’s hand over his, feeling that increasingly familiar flush creeping up again. “That’s ridiculous,” he snorted, but he didn’t brush Komaeda’s hand off. Instead, he turned his hand over, so that their fingers intertwined.

“Hmm, maybe you’re the Ultimate Tsundere?”

“That’s the last talent I’d want to have!” Hinata flared up. “Anyway, it’s your turn!”

“Haha, alright!” Komaeda said. “Kokkuri-san, do you think Hinata-kun and I can ever possibly become friends?”

Hinata glanced at him. Komaeda’s face was as relaxed as ever, but Hinata was holding his hand and he could feel how clammy the other boy’s palms had suddenly become.

Hinata didn’t bother waiting for the spirit to answer for him; he just pushed the coin against the stillness of Komaeda’s finger to the YES position.

Komaeda let out a laugh, but he didn’t sound terribly amused. “You cheated, Hinata-kun,” he said. “Kokkuri-san, Kokkuri-san, please go away.”

The coin agreed, and Hinata and Komaeda both lifted their fingers from it.

“It’s not cheating when you should have asked me that question in the first place and not some random spirit,” Hinata said.

Komaeda shook his head. “Fortune is not as fickle as people claim, Hinata-kun,” he said. “Some things are out of our hands.”

Hinata felt frustration course through him. “I don’t see what the problem is,” he said. “If we want to be friends, then what the hell is stopping us?”

Komaeda pulled away from him. He picked up the paper they’d been playing with and began to expertly shred it to pieces. “It’s the nature of my luck,” he said. “It’s the reason I hate playing games of chance. Things always turn out so ugly.”

Hinata waited for him to explain further, but Komaeda didn’t continue. “I still don’t get it,” Hinata said finally. “It’s not like I’m any expert on friendship either, but Komaeda, I was already beginning to think of you as a friend anyway.” Like his memories of leaving childish games behind, Hinata couldn’t exactly explain how he knew loneliness; he just knew that he did. The more he tried to recall the reason, the wider he could feel that void inside of him begin to grow. He took a deep, shuddering breath. “What I mean, Komaeda, is that you’ve been so kind. You guided me around the island all afternoon, and you kept me company tonight when I asked. You’ve already been an amazing friend to me, and it’s barely been a day. Seriously, thanks.”

“… Hinata-kun,” Komaeda began. “I…”

“Hey, you kids!” came a loud, obnoxious voice.

Hinata jumped. Komaeda’s eyes widened slightly, whatever he was about to say cut off by the interruption.

Monokuma was peeking in through the open window. “Don’t you two know that you’re supposed to close the window when you’re done playing so that other creepy spirits don’t get in? Unless you want everyone to see you getting naughty on the first night!” The stuffed bear burst into cackles.

Hinata shot to his feet. “G-go away!” he shouted.

“Watch it, young man!” Monokuma huffed. “I’m still your principal, you know! I can’t just tolerate loose morals on a school trip!”

Hinata felt his face heating up in a messy mix of rage and embarrassment. “Y-you—!”

“There’s nothing in the rules about being outside of one’s assigned cottage after dark, or sharing a cottage for the night,” Komaeda cut in smoothly.

“Hmm,” Monokuma said. “Hmhmhm… Okay, fine! I’ll let you get away with it this time! But still, close this damn window already!”

He disappeared as quickly as he had come, and Hinata slammed the window shut immediately.

“I’m sorry,” Komaeda said.

“What are you apologizing for?” Hinata bit out. “It’s not your fault there’s a stupid stuffed bear terrorizing us.”

Komaeda still looked guilty. “Even if you say that…” he said. “I was the one who suggested we play Kokkuri, and I was the one who forgot to close the window.”

Hinata shook his head, slumping back down on the couch. Their knees brushed against each other. “I could’ve remembered to do that too,” he said. “It’s fine. God, that thing scared the shit out of me.” Hesitantly, he reached for Komaeda’s hand again, gratified when the other boy didn’t pull away. They sat like that in the tropical silence, not speaking, until Hinata felt his eyes begin to drift shut.

He tried to fight it at first, until he felt Komaeda’s other hand come up to run his fingers through Hinata’s hair, nudging him to rest his head against Komaeda’s shoulder. “Go to sleep, Hinata-kun,” Komaeda murmured. “Tomorrow will be day of hope, I’m sure.”

It wasn’t the most comfortable position, but Hinata felt so much better than he had earlier that evening, curled up by himself in a strange bed. He felt safer.

He let himself succumb to sleep.

Komaeda hadn’t lied about his insomnia. Regardless of how exhausted he felt after such a long day, his sleeplessness persisted. He continued to pat at Hinata’s spiky hair long after the other boy fell asleep, his cheek squished against Komaeda’s jacket.

It felt good to be useful, especially to someone like Hinata, who shined so brightly. Yes, if there was one thing that Komaeda was certain of, it was that such hope should not be confined to this island of despair.

They would have to start playing Monokuma’s little Killing Game soon.

#kmhnsecretexchange #submission #fanfiction #sfw #komahina #nagito komaeda #hajime hinata #sdr2

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