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sicklylittlesnowflake · 7 years

Note

I got a les mis prompt for you! Enjolras is sick and doesn't want to tell his friends worried of being a burden to them. He tries to hide all his symptoms till he collapses during a meeting or rally and everyone is worried thinking he is dying or something. Turns out the illness isn't serious but he collapsed from dehydration mixed with exhaustion so he needs medicine, fluids and rest they have a group movie night/sleepover at his apartment to make sure he is okay and following instructions

(I love writing Enjolras so much!!! Have some more of my golden sun..who I also hurt a lot sorry lol..this got real angsty reaaal quick.)

Enjolras couldn’t always be their fierce, indestructible leader.

In fact, he thought himself as anything but that. He wasn’t their perfect, glowing icon, as much as he wished he could be. He wanted to be that for everyone, wanted to be this beacon of hope for his friends but he just wasn’t. Sometimes his friends forgot that pristine marble statues could break.

He had his down days. He had days where he just felt blue.

There were days Enjolras couldn’t find the heart to speak to anyone and withdrew away from everyone. He’d feel so exhausted and down for no particular reason. He’d just feel sad and dull and grey.

Sometimes Enjolras just felt so blue he’d feel detached from himself. He’d walk around in a derealised, abstract like world in a feverish like haze and let the world go by and he couldn’t even process anything. Nothing felt real. He’d forgot about himself, neglect himself and try to stay up later and keep working to try and feel, try and force himself to feel alive.

He wouldn’t go to bed, and when he did he would lay awake for a long period of time lost in his own thoughts and feeling anxious. He’d forget to drink and eat, feeling so lost and distracted that he just forgot.

At some point during all the late, sleepless nights and his lack of self care, the weird faux feverish haze he’d be experiencing actually became a feverish haze.

When he woke up with a splitting headache he knew he had taken ill, but there was no way Enjolras was going to tell anyone that he had.

They were only days before their rally, and they were truly hectic days. Everyone was busy and stressed trying to organise things and making sure everything was okay. Enjolras beyond proud of his amazing friends, and could not find the heart to burden their shoulders any more. It was a fever, he was going to be okay.

Enjolras dug through his closet, searching desperately for his winter clothing. It was nearing the end of the summer, but it was still pretty warm and hot. At least according to the weather app. But Enjolras was shaking furiously, and it was unbelievably hard to get out of his blankets that morning. Enjolras yanked an article of clothing out of his closet, pulled on his signature red sweater that hadn’t been taken out since the early spring.

Enjolras pulled on his thicker jeans and shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to keep himself warmer. He lets out a scratchy, rough cough against the crook of his arm and winces as his body is racked at the sheer force.

Once Enjolras finished, he sniffles weakly and splutters for a little. He wipes his nose tiredly on his jumper sleeve, his nose squishing against the material roughly. He looked up to see himself in the little mirror on the wall and cringed at his own appearance. He’s white as snow, besides his cheeks which are saturated a deep red. He’s got dark circles, and he looks like shit.

Suddenly there was a soft knock at the door of his apartment, causing Enjolras to jump slightly. He cleared his throat, quickly trying to tame his messy, golden curls as he rushed over to his door. He opened it to reveal Combeferre and Courfeyrac.

Courfeyrac was beaming, glowing with energy and looked about the epitome of health. A vast contrast to how Enjolras looking. He was radiating with sunshine, smile so wide and in black shorts and a bright yellow, thin t-shirt. The sight of him in such thin clothing made Enjolras shudder.

“You ready, mon ami?” He beamed.

Enjolras opened his mouth to speak, but was quickly cut off by a sharp, congested little cough he had to swiftly cover with his wrist, whipping his head away. He grinned sheepishly, “I am. Lets go?”

Courfeyrac seemed unfazed by it all and was more than willing to leave, but was quickly stopped by Combeferre who had an eyebrow raised. He clearly wasn’t very thrilled with the gruff edge to Enjolras’s voice, and the look of his face.

“Enj..what’s wrong? You look..you don’t look great,” Combeferre frowned.

Enjolras shook his head, chuckling lightheartedly.

“I-I’m okay, I promise, just a little jittery. We’ve..got a huge number turning up, bigger than we’ve had in a while,” Enjolras reassured, flashing then his winning, charming smile although it is a little flat. He felt way too sick and empty to be his usual, radiant self.

Combeferre took it for now, sighing fondly and tossing Enjolras’s hair about, “You’re going to be alright, E. It’s going to be okay. Lets go, now.”

Enjolras gave him a half hearted grin, trying to ignore how heavy and miserable he felt. He felt like he was about to collapse, and he couldn’t walk in a straight line. He wobbled hopelessly, desperately wishing that he could just see the world straight. He didn’t even feel at one with his own body. How was he supposed to make people feel whole and alive, when he couldn’t even feel alive at all?

The next hour went by in a daze.

It didn’t even feel real, like he was trapped in some abstract impressionist painting. He didn’t feel connected to his own body and just watched the world as it went by. He watched an empty clearing suddenly pile in with people, and then there was hundreds. It so much, and Enjolras felt both a weird culmination of overwhelmed and nothing at all.

Enjolras watched as people yelled with passion, hope and energy. It was exhilarating, and it was amazing, but it drained Enjolras to the very bone. He felt like there was a heavy weight hanging over his shoulders, and he was slumping and he felt so sick. He was shivering hard, desperately wishing he was in bed, and he loathed himself for it.

The Cause was so much bigger than some fever. It was so much bigger than his illness. He was such an awful person for this. There were so many people out there who needed to be enlightened, and yet he couldn’t just make himself cop on a little bit and feel less empty. He needed to be their fierce, passionate leader, but he was nothing, and Enjolras felt like such a horrible burden.

Enjolras blinked blearily, smothering a harsh, rugged cough against the crook of his arm. He squeezed his eyes shut as a pang of pain stabbed at his lungs as he coughed, balling his fists as his body convulsed with the intensity of his coughing. He was taken out of it by a warm hand on his shoulder, and it felt amazing against his freezing frame.

Enjolras turned around, and when his blue eyes met green he instantly felt a little better. For a moment he felt a little less empty, and somewhere inside of him a little spark ignited and it was a little warmer. Grantaire had this weird little magical ability to ground him and hold him steady when he seemed to be floating away.

Grantaire’s smile was soft, and his eyes were sparkling with the kindest eyes Enjolras had ever seen, it was melting him, “Hey, good luck out there.”

Enjolras couldn’t help the fond smile that wiped across his face, and the pink dusting his cheeks took as he looked away shyly. “..T-thanks..”

Grantaire only smiled, and hesitated for a moment, looking a little shaky and unsure, but then he was firm and so sure.

“..I just..wanted to let you know that..I believe in you.”

Enjolras froze up, and suddenly he felt a lot less empty and more something. He felt alive, the spark igniting into a burning fire.

“..You’ve given me something to believe in, Enjolras..and uh..I’m not really sure if you believe in yourself..I’ve noticed you’ve been a little distant the past week and not quite yourself. Not our usual, strong, invincible leader. I hope you’re okay.”

Enjolras laughed awkwardly, giving him a sad little smile, “Thank you for the concern..but uh..you’re slightly wrong there, I’ve been more myself this past week than I’ve ever been. I’m not really your strong invincible leader…u-uh i..”

Tears pricked his eyes as he tried to wipe them away and he chuckled nervously, “Im just not. Not really that. I-I’m really sorry.”

Grantaire’s eyes widened, laced with a mixture of sadness, concern, guilt and a lot more that Enjolras couldn’t really read in his fevered state. Then a moment of clarity washed over his eyes.

“..I never said I believed in this strong, invincible leader.”

Enjolras looked up to see his loving smile.

“..I said I believed in you. So get out there, tiger. You can do it.”

A tear spilled from his eyes, which he quickly wiped away as he let out a shaky laugh and smile. He nodded, turning away from him and facing the curtain. He took in a deep breath, closing his eyes and thought of Grantaire, shutting out all the parts of himself that told him he couldn’t. All he could hear was Grantaire telling him he could and he felt so alive.

He stepped out onto the stage and he shone.

Everything went by in a weird blur, all he can really remember was passionate screaming, a fire blazing in his heart as people cheered him on. He felt exhilarated, this hopeful, euphoric buzz spreading and dancing within his veins as this energy burst into flame inside of him.

His illness would come back and bite him to remind himself of its sickened state, he would have to turn away to cough for a while. Sometimes he’d have to grip tight onto the podium as a wave of nausea hit him once his headache intensified. Waves of coldness would hit him and he would shake violently, and heat waves would wash over him, so scorching hot he was close to toppling over and fainting.

But none of this mattered.

What mattered was the hundreds of people with hope, hope for a better tomorrow. A better world, a kinder world. He could see the hope and enlightenment in their eyes, ablaze with determination. They were being inspired by his words, but more than anything he was being inspired by them. He felt amazing.

Then it was over, and the crowd was roaring and clapping. There was so much happening. He took a small, humble bow before he made his way back stage, to where his friends awaited.

Their faces were lit with happiness, they were all glowing. Their eyes twinkled, smiles wide and bright, arms open. They looked so loving Enjolras wondered why he ever thought he was a burden.

He could faintly hear his friends congratulating him and saying other positive things, but they were all being drowned out by a loud ringing in his ears. His headache intensified, as he tried to inch closer to them but his body felt so weak and exhausted that every step he took leeched his energy.

Grantaire’s arms were open wide for him, and as much as Enjolras wanted to melt into his embrace and fall into him he couldn’t go much closer because his knees were buckling and his vision was dotting and darkening.

Then he was free falling and the last thing he heard was the horrified screams of his friends.

It’s chaos.

Their sun and moon, collapsed on the floor. Weakened and sick, Grantaire’s not even sure if he’s breathing.

In these hectic, horrifying moments he’s suddenly realising how much a world without Enjolras would pain him. How empty that world would be. And right now his beautiful world with Enjolras in it is teetering on the edge to becoming a world he does not want to live in.

Everyone is panicking, but Combeferre is running and checking for a pulse. Enjolras is alive.

Grantaire doesn’t even know much time has passed because he’s just standing there with his heart racing scared that he’s lost him. That’s a thought Grantaire’s heart cannot bear.

Combeferre tells them he’s alright, that he’s just fevered and sick, and that he needs to go home, all will be fine.

But until Enjolras is awake and he can see those beautiful blue eyes shining with its charming sparkle nothing is fine.

When Enjolras wakes up he’s snuggled up in his favourite blanket on his couch, and he can faintly hear the beginning of the Breakfast Club in the background. Someone is softly caressing and playing with his curls, and it feels so nice. His head is lying on a soft little pillow taken from his bed, on top of someone’s lap. He looks down and sees his feet plopped onto Courfeyrac’s lap, who is happily munching away at some popcorn.

Enjolras looks a little further to see Combeferre sitting on the arm rest next to Courfeyrac and is sharing his popcorn, one hand placed firmly on his shoulder. He stirs and looks down and sees the sleeping bags and blowup mattresses scattered across his floor. Cosette is lying her head on Marius’s shoulder, who’s cuddling her and resting his chin on the top of her hair. Eponine is sitting near them, with Feuilly next to her as they share a packet of gummy bears. Jehan and Bahorel are sharing a bag of crisps, Joly is drinking a glass of water, Bossuet is wiping up some spilled soda on the floor, and Musichetta is coming back from the entrance holding a few boxes of pizza.

The person who is stroking his hair accidentally strokes against his nose, and Enjolras’s breath hitched twice before he shifts to cover his sneeze with the crook of his arm.

Grantaire chuckles softly, “Sorry, did I wake you?”

Enjolras looked up to see him and he blushed hard, the rush of emotions suddenly making him aware of his headache. He shook his head.

“No, I woke up a minute before that,” His voice was hoarse and croaky. He sounds awful.

Combeferre frowned and felt Enjolras’s forehead, gets up and returned shortly afterwards with a glass of water, medicine, and a damp towel. He passed the glass of water and medicine for him to consume. Enjolras obliged.

“You had a pretty dangerous fever earlier, E, and you were extremely dehydrated so you passed out. Why didn’t you say anything?” Combeferre scolds worriedly.

Enjolras laid back against Grantaire and snuggled against him, curling up as Grantaire draped the damp cloth over his forehead.

“..I don’t really know,” Enjolras said shyly.

He could feel everyone’s worried gazes.

“Enjolras, you know you can speak to us about anything,” Cosette cooed gently.

“It’s nothing, I just didn’t realise,” Enjolras brushed off quickly.

Grantaire sighed, “E, you know it isn’t that.”

Enjolras looks around wildly, and realised he can’t win, and pushed himself off of Grantaire to sit up. He’s a bit awkward, uncomfortable from being so vulnerable and feeling overwhelmed by everyone pausing the movie and turning around to look at him softly.

Before Enjolras even opens his mouth tears are already pricking his eyes, “I-I..just..had such a bad week..I-I felt so..so alone..which is really stupid because you’re all here for me and I just..felt so sad. I forgot to take care of myself and I-it’s..b-been tough..”

Enjolras’s voice cracked and he swallows, sniffling and looking away, “U-uh..I just felt like such a burden, you know? Y-you all see me as this amazing leader b-but the truth is, you guys, I’m just not. I’m so fucking weak. I-I’m so sorry I’m not but I’m just a stupid fucking boy who w-wants a better world.”

“Enj..you should’ve said so..” Courfeyrac said sadly.

“..You’re always telling us to reach out and you’re always here to listen to us, but you need to realise that it also applies to you, okay? We’re all here for you,” Combeferre said kindly.

Marius offers him a soft smile, "And you are not weak. You’re one of the strongest people I know.“

"But you also have to start telling us these things, all of us would’ve been more than willing to be there for you. You really scared us, earlier, Enj..we thought you had died,” Bahorel says softly.

Grantaire wraps his arms around him and brings him close, embracing him with so much love and care, “Enjolras..we don’t need you to be fucking superman. You being just a guy, is so much more inspiring that way. A human can change the world, a human with flaws, it shows me there is still hope. You’ve given me hope again, Enjolras.”

Grantaire presses a shy, soft kiss against his cheek, “..We are right here, right by your side.”

Enjolras lets out a shaky laugh, and lets himself melt into Grantaire’s loving embrace and right here in his arms the world feels a lot lighter.

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hansolmates · 7 years

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vernon; you’re my cure

genre: fluff fluff fluffity fluff

word count: 2033

feat: Hansol Vernon Chwe/Original Female + various

(a/n): based on a prompt I found AGES ago, I forgot where but something along the lines of “if you were ever sick, they wouldn’t notice until you were pale and dying on the ground” although i think vernon would be pretty attentive, the prompt was SO CUTE SO HERE U GO <3

She hated to admit, but Vernon was oblivious to many things. Sometimes it was okay, the way he was so focused on writing lyrics and blur the world around him, because only then he was able to concentrate. Otherwise, his members have mentioned that they do worry about him from time to time, and jokingly confessed that he does get babied often because he forgets to take care of himself.

But that was nothing of her concern. She liked him either way, he was sweet and dependable and it was like dating her best friend. Not her concern, until today.

“Hey, are you alright?” Leave it to Josh to notice right away.

“You look tired.” And Seungcheol, and practically every other person that went her way this evening.

“I’ll be okay. It’s just a cold. It happens during allergy season.” she sniffled, trying to talk as clearly as possible. She unfortunately had the worst colds, ever. Every spring it was like this. Waking up feeling incredibly dry and dehydrated, random nosebleeds in the middle of the night, and feeling overall weak and vulnerable. Her contact lenses were burning with the amount of stress it took to put them on, accompanied with the globs of makeup she used to keep her skin looking healthy.

“Are you sure it’s just allergies?” Seungcheol winced, tilting his head to the side to get a closer look at her. “You sound like you have the flu or something.”

Josh didn’t hesitate with his actions and placed a palm over her forehead. His touch was cool and comforting, and she practically melted into a puddle as her eyes fluttered shut. But the second he touched her he snatched it back, as if he were on a hot stove. “You’re really warm.” he said, as if it were the understatement of the century.

“Can you like, put your hand back on my head for the rest of the night.” she grabbed Josh’s hand once more and put it on her cheek, sighing in contentment.

The leader smiled unsteadily, “Are you sure you should be here?” he asked, gesturing to the bustling waiting room backstage.

“Of course.” she insisted stubbornly, “He’d be so disappointed if I wasn’t here for the showcase.”

Speak of the devil, Vernon started jogging up to them. He finally wriggled away from the makeup artists long enough to get to her, he was eyeing her for the past ten minutes as he got his touch-ups. Seungcheol and Josh immediately took five steps back from her, and suddenly took an immediate interest in the snack table next to them.

“I’m so happy you came.” Vernon said, eyes glowing like mini-constellations as he walked up to her.

“You look so handsome.” she smiled, taking in his pinstripe suit and shiny black oxfords. Her fingers trailed absently over the stiff lapels, pressed and rolled to perfection.

“And you look beautiful as always.” he reached for her hands, and leaned in so his lips were barely brushing against her ears. “I’d totally hug and kiss you right now, believe me. But the stylists are all looking at me and if they see that I ruined my makeup and outfit, they’d kill me. They’d actually kill me.” he whispered dramatically, his warm breath tickling her skin.

She pulled away and laughed, trying to fight the soreness bubbling up her throat. No kissing was quite alright for her, since she still felt kind of gross. “It's fine, just so long as you kill it on stage. And you all totally will, you've worked so hard for this.”

He looked away bashfully, rubbing his neck. “You know,” he started, thumbing his collar. “I wrote one of my songs about you.”

“Wait, really?” she smiled softly at the gesture.

“Of course, you're my muse.” and they started calling the first unit for standby. It was his stage with a couple other members. “Wish me luck.” and before anyone could stop him, he placed a quick kiss to her forehead before following the rest of his unit before the stage.

She was hoping he'd notice the difference in her temperature when he kissed her, but maybe that was just wishful thinking. Jihoon was in the first unit as well, and was eyeing her imploringly at her state, but otherwise didn't say anything. Jeonghan frowned at her as well, his eyes darting to her restless gaze but otherwise did not pry. She watched the first performance through the streaming television, and remembered that she was here to support Vernon. No matter what, she was going to suck it up for this beautiful boy who was writing beautiful songs about her. Being sick would not change that.

Jun slided next to her, offering a cupful of strawberries. “Hey.”

“Hey.”

“You look awful.”

Shooting him a glare, she snatched the entire cup from him. “Gee, thanks for noticing.”

He innocently popped another red berry his mouth. “Would you like me to catch you when you fall?”

“Are you trying to be flirty or…?”

He shrugged, elbowing her. “No, but I'd really do it.” he said earnestly, before walking away for the next team on standby.

The showcase was ultimately successful, and went on with only minor hitches that were to be expected. By the end of the evening, everyone was equally sweaty and exhausted, the crew was more than ready to pack up and tuck in for the night. Her too, as it was incredibly late and she was starting to feel the lack of rest hitting her in the head.

“God, I’m starving!” Hoshi complained, bouncing around to hurry everyone up. Most of the members were in a circle waiting for the rest to hurry up and load in the car.

“And that adlib at the end, I’m really happy it worked out.” Vernon just wouldn’t stop talking, his one hand waving around in story mode while his other was clutched securely around hers, swinging their arms around like a pendulum. It was making her nauseous. Did he notice how clammy her palm was? She tried not to cringe at the contact, because Vernon was really happy about how well he did today, and within good reason.

Forcing a smile, she nodded gently, feeling her head spin. “I’m really proud of you.”

“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” Dino whined, tapping his foot while the managers were busy making various phone calls.

Pointedly ignoring everyone else, Vernon asked her, “You’re getting dinner with us, right? We’re buying steak.”

She was far from hungry, in fact the only thing she wanted was a cup of tea and her couch. Apologetic, she shook her head. “I’m kinda tired. But go on and celebrate without me!” she insisted with forced cheer. She felt really hot all of a sudden, like walking into a volcano with no air. Her neck was uncomfortably damp with sweat, thankfully covered by her hair.

Vernon’s whole face crumpled at her rejection, and she had to look away to not feel guilty from his puppy eyes. “But,” he pouted, “It won’t be fun without you.”

From the corner of her eye, she noticed the ever-sarcastic Jun hold his arms out expectantly even though he was metres away.

“Will you be okay getting back?” Josh stepped in, slipping his body partway between them. “You drove, right?”

Vernon suddenly felt betrayed, and shook his friend’s shoulder. “C’mon, help me convince her!”

“Do you have food at home?” Seungcheol asked, ready to pull out his phone to place an order.

“But it’s been a long time since we all had a meal together.” Vernon continued to insist.

“Yah, can’t you see?” Jihoon interjected.

“See what?” he furrowed his brows, confused.

Another wave of dizziness swept over her form, and she felt the whole parking lot blur. She always wondered what it felt like to faint, it looked so dainty and almost nap-like in the movies. But she only felt nauseous, like she was drowning in murky water. Sounds and gasps were coming at her in slow motion, like a dream. She felt strong hands snatch her waist, trying to lift her deadweight. When she closed her eyes for the last time, she could only concentrate on the panicked look on Vernon’s face.

She woke up hours later, feeling overheated once more. She couldn’t move, as she was swaddled like a baby, burrito-ed in between the sheets and a familiar-smelling hoodie. Looking up through her tiny face-hole, she took in the room before her. It was their dorm. The strange thing was that it was almost uncomfortably empty.

“Are you thirsty?” Vernon’s voice echoed from the kitchenette, and he brought over a bowl of soup to his bed-bench.

“Where is everybody?” she asked instead.

“Getting steak, remember?”

“But, you’re not there.” she wriggled out of her blankets like a cocoon, exhaling in relief when her arms were free. “I should go home.”

Vernon easily pushed her back down, wrapping the sheets back on her body. “Nope, no way am I leaving you alone tonight.” he made a move to lift the spoon of her soup to feed her, but she made a face and edged away. He only made a warning face in reply, nudging the spoon. Not wanting the liquids to spill on his quilt she opened her mouth, forcing the too-hot soup down her throat. “There,” Vernon declared, looking proud of himself. “Was that so bad?”

The soup sizzled against her sore throat, taking its sweet time to make its way down her system. As much as it soothed her throat, she didn't feel like eating. If she had one more spoonful she'd heave right then and there. “I feel like crap.” she admitted guiltily, her voice soft yet rough with wear. “I'm sorry I ruined your celebration. I know how much this event meant to you.”

His satisfied grin weaned, slowly putting the bowl down. “No, I'm sorry baby. I should've known you were sick.”

“You were busy, there was no reason why you should've noticed. I tried so hard to hide it.”

“Everyone was busy, but everyone noticed except me.” he murmured, brushing a thumb over her brow. “I was so scared, when you fell into my arms I felt so helpless.” he confessed, clenching his hands between the fabric of his blanket. “Please don’t do that again.”

“I tried so hard to hide it.” she exhaled tiredly, looking up through her lashes. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Vernon leaned in and pressed her forehead to his, having no choice but to drown herself in his chocolate gaze. “Don't ever hide your pain for me, okay? Yeah, I would've been upset if you weren't there. But I know you'd be cheering me on from home, and I'd feel better knowing you were resting.” he felt the heat, finally. He fought the urge to scrunch his nose at how hot her body was, wondering why he couldn’t feel it hours ago. At the very least, she was now safe and in his arms, well on her way to getting better.

“Apology accepted.” she replied immediately, giving him a weary, but reassuring smile. “But Vernon? Can you please take these blankets off me, I’m dying.”

“Oh, yeah! My bad, baby.” his smile quickly returned to his face upon seeing hers, peeling off the layers of blankets one by one. It wasn’t until he reached the opening that he slipped his body between the blankets, throwing one layer over each other like their own little igloo. She thankfully didn’t feel so stuffy anymore, but a much welcomed warmth bloomed in her chest.“I don’t mind staying home tonight. I can take care of my babygirl and we can have some alone time for once.” he cheered, dipping his nose to nuzzle hers.

She giggled at the contact, lifting a hand to lightly push away his chest. “Vernon, stop! You’ll get sick.”

“So?” he chuckled, his words so soft that they could only be heard between the confines of their blankets, his hands reaching to tug at the fabric of her sweater. “I need to give you some healing.”

“Oh, so you’re a doctor now?”

“Trust me, I’m a professional.” he chuckled, getting closer and closer to her face. “Just one dose,” he assured, brushing his lips with hers, “And I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

#vernon #seventeen scenarios #vernon scenarios #svtcreations #svtnetwork #seventeen #svt fic #vernon requests #seventeen requests #vernon headcanon #hansol #hansol requests #kpop #kpop fic #kpop scenarios

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charryflavoredblood · 1 month

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Hi! Can I plz ask for a Komegi fic? I was thinking maybe the two are having a relaxing time in the bath together. Nothing sexual, it’s just intimate. Maybe Nagito’s went into one of his manic downward spirals so to comfort him Makoto washing Nagito’s hair to help the other man relaxed.

Yes. I love you thank you. I love you. Komaeda is what I live for. I think I lost the plot somewhere along the way but just know, it was in mind and I will rewrite it if you don't like it!!

TW: Existentialism, potential disassociation trigger.

“Makoto-”

Nagito calls out to his boyfriend.

“Wait okay, do you want peach or the rosemary pomegranate one?”

Naegi grabbed the two bottles of shampoo. (The same ones that Komaeda had bought for him after he found out that the other was using…head and shoulder. And Makoto said that he needed to show himself more respect.)

“Those are yours-” “If I mix them, it won’t cause mustard gas, right? I played potions when I was little, it’ll be fine.” Makoto questioned, talking to no one but himself. He gently kneeled down on his partner’s- no, his bathroom floor.

After Nagito’s most recent breakdown, the pair had decided Makoto should move into Nagito's home. The pair being Makoto and Komaeda’s therapist, of course. Komaeda had insisted that Makoto deserved to be in a far nicer, far bigger and far warmer home.The younger man still lived with his sister and her wife. Anywhere was warmer than that apartment. Plus, Komaeda was loaded. He was basically Togami without legal limits.

Not that he only liked his boyfriend for his money! He adored him for his sense of humor, his kindness, his intelligence and most of all his passion!

“Hey Makoto?” “Huh?”

Komaeda snapped him out of his train of thought, which was more than welcome. Any real Komaeda was better than the best imaginary Komaeda.

“I was thinking last night. Why is living so hard? Why must we be given false good days only to fall deeper into despair with so many terrible bad days? It truly makes me wonder what the point of it all is. Why must we feel despair…? Why is hope so temporary while despair is forever. They’re considered opposites. Why is one so much more powerful?”

Normally this would’ve caught Makoto off guard…but he was dealing with Nagito and he knew the other better than most things.

“Gee, that’s pretty philosophical, huh?” He responded, pumping the shampoo on his hands.

The brunette hummed in thought as he lathered the shampoo up, moving to his boyfriend’s hair.

“If every day was great, would it still be great or would it be a normal day? If we didn’t overcome hardship, wouldn’t that make us lumps of…something. I don’t know, I failed science. Despair doesn’t extinguish hope…just like hope doesn’t extinguish despair. When someone is at a fair, they could look at a ferris wheel and say “I won’t get on that because there is a 2.5% chance of it crashing.” On the other hand, someone could’ve just gotten into a ferris wheel crash, they could say “I’m alright. I made it. I survived.” You know?” Komaeda thought of a rebuttal before letting it go.

Makoto rubbed the shampoo into the white hair and continued.

“We can worry about things like that, we can worry about each other getting hurt, or we can enjoy our time together and cross that bridge when we come to it.”

Nagito nodded and leaned in for a kiss, only to be met with fingers against his lips.

“Sorry…I don’t like the taste of shampoo.”

“Never thought you were one of those. I suppose you’re going to make me shower before we-”

“No! I didn’t mean that! I just-”

“I’m messing with you, Makoto.”

“...I still don’t like the taste of shampoo.”

“Who does?” I loved writing this. Ily all, drink water. Don't die. Dying if dehydration when you can help it is cringe. Ily again. K bye.

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