Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The sound of the faucet running, as a deep red trickles down from the cavern of my throat to the drain, I watch the water mix with my blood turning a soft pink. I stop to stare at the water for a moment, and noted how unusually high the pressure was.

And I suppose that is the least of atypical things at this moment. A few shriveled, once yellow flower petals spiral with the water soaked to a bloodied murky brown.

I clench my teeth together and squinted my eyes in pain, it felt as if I was being clawed from the inside of my throat out, though I got used to it. I open my eyes to a golden framed mirror above the sink, grey-green eyes looking back at me as a curtain of damp white lashes overlay them. The sides of my eyes are puffy and reddened along with the tip of my nose.

I run a hand through my white hair, though it stops when getting tangled with large knots. I press my lips together and rub them, feeling a rough and unpleasant texture in return. I press my fingertips to my cheeks, sickly pale skin meeting sickly pale skin, and it feels wet.

Sickly, sick, such a veracious way to describe myself. Nagito komeada is sickly, in looks, in mind, in action, and in health.

In love as well.

There was no other way to describe what this was. It was a sickness born from love, I am lovesick.

knock knock "Hey, komaeda, you there?"

And here, the root of my sickness , A gentle voice, Chestnut hair, rough hands, tanned skin, with a physique so lovely it could be a greek statue. Something that truly belonged in an art museum- to be admired, but too beautiful to touch.

And it's something I painfully fantasize about, my love seeping from fingertips to skin. To rewrite myself onto you like blank pages. A desire that is so much more than lust, so much more than yearning, because I need you like I need air to breathe, and it feels like nothing will ever satisfy my need for you. To die by your love or be saved by it.

"Komaeda... I'm worried, you've left class a few times already, tell me what's going on."

I stay silent, not because I want to, but my mouth is weighed down shut.

"You know you can trust me, komaeda."

I love it when you say my name, so much it hurts.

"Komaeda, please talk to me."

It hurts.

"Komeada, I'm serious."

It hurts.

"Nagito?"

Stop it already.

My throat is burning, begging to be released if it's parasite, my coughing and hacking escalates.

Then the door swings open, light from the hallway rushes into the bathroom. Revealing blood covered tiles, and a teenage boy sitting in his own filth, even more red dripping from my mouth getting stained into my shirt.

"Oh my god... what happened??"

My throat gets even more heavy, this time out of humiliation.

"I...accidentally slipped and scraped my knee."

"Yeah, no, this is much more than just a slip. You were coughing and- what is that?" He points to the flower petals.

"Forget it hajime, it's alright, don't worry about filth like me just g-"

"I'm not buying it. I'm taking you to the nurses office right now, even if I have to force you."

Ah, compassionate as always. Your words are so sharp, yet hold so much generosity.

"Alright, hinata-kun."

He walks towards me, hoisting me up while rough hands wrap around me in support. He feels like a warm blanket, I've never wanted anything more. Hajime, hajime, hajime, he smells like cologne and oak. A safe heaven on earth, my own garden of eden, and it's even more unbearable.

So overwhelming I drop to the floor completely, in the middle of an empty hallway, everything fades to black.

༺༻

My eyes flutter open, everything seems blurry, so I rub them to regain my focus. I'm greeted with white sheets and blue curtains, a smell of alcohol and bandaids. I turn my head around the room and see there is no one here, which isn't unusual. I'm used to waking up in hospital rooms alone, I'm used to the perfectly kept, empty room and all too familiar scent.

I take notice that the clock says 5:58 pm, the room is illuminated by the golden color of a sunset, and I look out the window to see a brown haired boy.

Hand in hand with a certain pink haired friend.

Chiaki Nanami and Hajime Hinata were a lovely couple, because they were lovely people. Chiaki was kind, gentle, and soft spoken. She brought a hope into hajimes' heart that I couldn't even wish to give him. She was pretty, she was a girl.

As much as I wanted something to blame for this despair, I could not bring himself to hate chiaki. It wasn't her fault, there is no other person to turn my frustrations on than myself.

I remember the times where all three of us would play games together, when all three of us would hang out, when chiaki was the only one to approach hajime and myself when no one else would. She brought us all together and that is a thankfulness that outweighs any feelings of envy.

I also remember the day the two of them walked through the hallways, hand in hand just as this moment. I remember running to the bathroom, and I remember coughing up an unusual matter.

Since then, I've slowly avoided them. Hoping they wouldn't notice, and they didn't. Too focused on their own relationships, though what could you expect? They never really need me. Not texting first turned to not texting at all, not approaching them to hang out lead to not hanging out at all, not talking to them led to barely ever talking at all.

I wait for them to leave before getting ready to go home. I sit up and look to the left of the nurses bed, a small table that held my belongings.

Hajime must have brought these for me. How kind.

Along with the items was a note, consisted of messy handwriting

"Get well soon! Come to me if you need anything.

-hajime."

My throat tickles, and I laugh, because That's just like him.

༺༻

Yellow petaled tulip - Japanese meaning: unrequited love

Chapter Text

"Careful, don't hurt yourself nagito." Hajime said as he held nagitos hand up the hill to keep his balance. 

They loved this, sneaking up the hills behind old apartment complexes, overlooking the stars together. Sometimes they'd even hold hands, or eachother. It was here they had their most important conversations. When hajime told nagito about his insecurities, nagito telling hajime of his past and his worries, nagito realizing how much he needed hajime for the rest of his unfortunate life. 

They were so different, yet the same in many ways. 

"Hajime, please don't worry about me. I'm more concerned for you if you ever get hurt, being around me that is."

Hajime sighed, "yeah yeah, you and that luck cycle I get it."

"..."

The mood changed, and Hinata looked at komaeda tenderly. 

“Let me take care of you, okay? I worry." He said softly. 

Komaeda was speechless, not only because of Hinatas words, but the look the brown haired boy gave him was enough to render 14 year old komaeda completely frozen in admiration. 

The silence went on long enough, "Sorry, don't know why I said something so embarrassing." Hinatas voice trailed off, he looked away and rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, komaeda noted how his palms started to sweat, due to their fingers still being laced together. 

Instead of pulling away, komeada held his hand tighter, bringing it up to his chest. "...No worries, Hinata-kun." He pressed his lips together and brought his other hand foward, so both his hands intertwined with hinatas sweaty ones, nagito squeezed them in reassurance. 

"Let's take care of eachother, okay?"

Hinata grasped back. 

"Okay."

Nagito knew, as scared as he was to admit it, he knew for sure he was madly in love with hajime

༺༻

Komeadas eyes fluttered open, he sat his body up, feeling heavy. 

3:29 am

He recalled his dream, more like a replayed memory. He tried to look back on when the last time him and hajime went to the hills. When him and hajime stopped telling eachother everything. 

Ah, right, that’s when she came along he thought to himself, with the least amount of bitterness possible. Because its not as if chiaki had ruined anything, she had given komeada a new sense of friendship. The memories the three of them made together were kept very closely to komeadas heart. 

Like the time the three of them went to the beach, and komeada was worried about them getting in a shark attack. They both laughed at him, and took each of his arms running to the tide. Closing his eyes, he embraced the cool water beneath his feet, basking in the warmth of his loved ones laughter. 

Such a lovely memory, truly, komaeda was devastated that things were so distant now. But that is something to blame on only himself. 

He looked at his night stand, and there sat a single photo of hajime and him together in gradeschool. Framed and kept carefully clean. It was a year after the plane crash, komaeda didn’t understand anything. He was confused, and scared, but no matter what hajime was there right beside him. Hajime helped him, hajime always had. 

In the same frame, was a strip of multiple photos taken in a photo booth at the local carnival. It was a few months, almost a year ago. He remembered that day vividly. 

༺༻

They were 16, and komaeda had gotten his first boyfriend. 

He was older than himself, 21 in fact. Komaeda had just accepted that he was gay. 

They had met on a dating app, the man made it fairly obvious he was just looking for sex, though he never said it out loud. komaeda didn’t care, because attention to a lonesome and heartbroken teenager was attention no matter the intentions. He knew that once the man got what he wanted, he would leave. While komaeda tried his best to prepare himself for that, it still hurt when he realized they will never talk again.

The idea of having sex in the woods with an older man sounded romantic, but it hurt. It was cold, he was too fast and rough, had no respect for his comfort, Nagito was in pain all over. To top it all off, he threw him his jacket and left him there, crying in the woods. Alone, in emotional and physical agony. 

He cried, he screamed from the bottom of his throat and sobbed. As loudly as he could, because chances are no one would hear him. 

As he was crying for about a good 10 minutes, that’s when a brown haired boy came rushing to his side. Like komeadas own knight in shining armor, he wrapped his arms around him. 

“Nagito, what’s wrong? What happened?” 

He couldn’t even bring himself to look up, his face was puffy and red. He was wailing like an ugly child, because that’s exactly what he was. 

“Hajime... ha... hajime, I’m sorry, I’m so d-disgusting, I’m sorry.” Komaeda sobbed. 

“Just tell me what’s wrong okay? I’m sure it’s not that bad, shh, I’m here.” He held nagito to his chest and stroked his hair soothingly, “it’s okay, I’m here, shhh...” Hajime cooed, so caring, it just made komaeda want to cry more. 

Komaeda wanted this, he wanted this so bad, for hajime to hold him lovingly, under the stars, whispering sweet words of reassurance. He wanted hajime to be his first boyfriend, his first kiss, his first time, he knew hajime would be gentle. He imagined it, to be together as one, skin to skin in passion and love. 

Hajime rocked him back and forth, until his crying went down and he was able to form sentences again. 

“Can you tell me? I understand if you don’t want to.”

Komeada thought it through, what if hajime thought of him as disgusting? He was, but hajime was so loving. It never bothered him before, but what if this was the last straw? What if he was using up all of hajimes patience? 

So many thoughts came rushing into komeadas head, but he decided to take the risk. Whether hajime would get deeply disturbed and run away, or if he would hit him. He didn’t care, because in the end he never really deserved hajimes kindness to begin with. 

He grabbed hajimes shoulders and pushed his arms out, pushing him. 

“I’m gay.” 

...

Hajime was still, in silence, just for a moment. Komeada was prepared for anything, for hajime to be cruel and call him names, slurs, to get angry and hit his hands away in disgust. 

But he didn’t. 

Instead, he took komaedas hand and told him “it’s okay.”

The white haired boy looked up at him in surprise, he didn’t expect that, but he should have. Because hajime is, well, hajime. He would never be cruel. Not to nagito, as much as he deserved it. 

This time nagito just teared up more, not in sadness, maybe in relief, or happiness. 

“A-are you sure..?” He said, voice wavering. 

“Yeah, I don’t care about that stuff. Plus, I kind of suspected it, haha.” 

There it was, hajimes little laugh, oh how komaeda loved it. He had a sweetness to his voice. 

Komaeda summarized what happened to hajime, leaving out the part that the reason he did it was because he was heartbroken that hajime had gone and got himself a girlfriend. In shaky and broken words through hics. In response, hajime just held him even more, rubbing circles on his back soothingly. 

“I’m not going to tell you what to do with your body... but please know, you are worth so much more than that.” 

Komeada said nothing, and just sniffed from all his sobbing. 

“Hey, I know that look, it’s that look you give when you think you don’t deserve anything.” The brown haired boy said sternly. 

“Hajimeee.” Komaeda whined, and hinata chuckled a bit. 

“Aaghh... by the way, how did you know I was here?” 

“Ah, well chiaki and I were on a date. You had your location on on your snap so I was going to surprise you, but I noticed you were in the woods, next to our old meeting spot. I got a little concerned and decided to check up on you, glad I did though. Don’t take me for some sort of creep okay? I was just going to surprise you, that’s all.” 

Komeada laughed “Bashful as always I see.” 

“W-what?! You’ll pay for that!” Hinata said, lightly punching Komaeda in the arm. 

“Oww! Oww! Call an ambulance! I’m being harassed!” Komaeda said jokingly. 

They both laughed together, it was a sweet moment between the two of them. As thier laughter died down, nagito said softly. 

“Thank you hajime, for everything.”

“Don’t worry about it, we promised to take care of eachother, didn’t we?”

“Yeah..” 

A few moments of silence went by, “Well, we should get going, chiakis’waiting I’m sure.”

“Oh it’s fine, she’s spending time with mikan. They’ve been hanging out a lot lately.” Hajime said. 

“Ah, I see. Well then, still. It’s cold.” Komaeda wrapped his arms around himself, shivering. 

“Here take my coat, I don’t want you wearing that bastards jacket.” Hajime took his coat off, then removed the one komaeda was wearing, and wrapped his own around komaedas shoulders. 

You have no idea what you’re doing, hajime. Komaeda thought. 

Hajime hoisted nagito up, letting him use his body as support (because of the pain from previous actions) they made their way out the woods and through the carnival. 

They planned to go home, but came across a photo booth. 

“Can we take one?” Komaeda asked, pointing to the booth. 

“Sure thing.” hinata replied. 

They sat down and 

Click

Click

Click 

Click

After that, a line of photos came out. Two sets, they both took one. 

“Hajime, you ruined the photo. Sticking out your tongue like that.” Nagito said with dissatisfaction. 

Hajime stuck his tongue out to komaeda mockingly, making a sound with his mouth. 

They arrived at komaedas house, and he invited hajime in. 

“It’s late, and I’m sure you’re tired. So stay the night, hajime.”

“Okay, we haven’t hung out like this in a while anyways.” Hajime said, walking inside and taking off their shoes. 

“I’ll make some tea,  go sit down on the couch.” 

“No no no, you’re still in pain right? Go get some rest.” The chestnut haired boy replied in a stern tone. 

“Haha, I’m alright now hinata-kun, now go sit down. You’ve been carrying me all night.” 

“Fine.”

Nagito finished, and made his way to the couch where hajime lied. He was asleep, and looked so peaceful. 

Komaeda couldn’t help it, he wanted a closer look. So he did. 

He looked, hajimes lashes, hajimes deep breathing, hajimes lips, he wanted to kiss them, hajimes hair, he wanted to run his hands through, hajimes hands, he wanted to interlock with, hajimes arms, he wanted to be embraced in. 

To hold him close, to wake up to him in the morning next to him, to be the only one hajime thought about. The be the one he thought of when he dreamed of a future, or when he touched himself. When he listened to his favorite song. 

But it could never be him, it was chiaki, and it will always be chiaki. 

It was chiaki he held close, that he thought of in his most passionate moments, it was chiaki is dreamt of in his future. It was chiaki he loved. 

And maybe it makes sense, because nagito never wished to be the reason hajime could sleep soundly, engrossed in his dreams, dreams of her. 

Rather, he wanted to be the reason he couldn’t sleep at night, a thunderstorm of rain, trapping him in his heart and hiding him from the sun. He wanted to make hajime so in love with him he was restless, just as he made komaeda, it it wouldn’t end until he was with komaeda. 

He couldn’t stand it. 

He need hajime, like he needed air to breathe, it was becoming unbearable. 

And next thing you know, he really couldn’t breathe.  Because his throat was hindered by something, and he would be rushing to the bathroom, desperately trying to release flowers bloomed from a heart of despair. 

Chapter Text

Komaedas' throat got tighter, everything was more painful, and there was a point where there was no use in attending school anymore. To no ones concern. Komaeda wasn't the most friendliest with anyone. He caused a lot of problems, he was awkward, he made others uncomfortable. Besides hajime and chiaki, the best he could think of was mikan, they saw themselves in each other. Having similar personalities, It was despairing and comforting all the same. However, he would push her away as well. He couldn't risk the possibility of her wasting her time worrying for someone who doesn't even want to be saved. 

Days pass since that evening where hajime took komaeda to the nurses room, and that's when Komaeda decided it was time to accept it. He was going to die, and he was going to die alone. 

Two days since he left, and he decided to just wait it out, live everyday like normal. In a giant empty house, lonely. Maybe he'd paint, maybe he'd go stargazing, there was lots of things he thought about doing before dying. But it hurt all too much, you would think he was the type of person to accept the weird fantasy of being killed by love. That he would have hope in his heart to the end. 

He wished things were that way, but in reality it's not. In reality, he is still a teenage boy in love. In reality, he's going to die alone. In reality, he's scared.  

There was a time when komaeda was ready to die, given his luck, He embraced the possibility that it would be his undoing. He was relieved that he was lucky enough for it not to at least bother him. 

And now, now it does, but really, what's so different? He's been on the borderline of death many times. When he was in the plane crash, when he was kidnapped, when he had cancer. What makes him so scared of death now of all times? 

And that's when he realizes, Komaeda Nagito doesn't fear death. He fears life. He fears that this will be the end of a life he never even lived. A life he will never get to live with him. Hajime makes him want to live. 

As much as he tells himself he is worthless and undeserving of hajimes love, it'll never stop him from craving it any less. From fantasizing of rough hands holding his, touching him, in love and in lust. He wants to press their bodies together and be connected in the most beautiful way they can, he wants hajime to see his body bare and still say he loves him. He's imagined it all too much, being underneath hinata and hiding his face in embarrassment, as hajime takes his face in his hands and makes him look at the brown haired man. "you're beautiful, Komaeda, I love you" 

And it'll be different, it'll be so much different from the others. 

He doesn't want hajime to just fuck him, he wants hajime to make love to him.

༺༻

Two weeks since he's been out of school, and no one. There's been a few calls here and there from the school, some neighbors would walk by and stare at the house for a moment, whispering to whoever they were walking with. No one would care enough for him to do a wellness check. Considering how often he was in the hospital, everyone's probably expecting him to drop dead at any second now. 

Every now and then he does do something to keep himself busy, he'll write, or he'll bake, of course he'll read, a lot. he'll take a walk in his personal garden. He'll tend to the flowers... even if it means that afterwards it'll trigger a repetitive coughing and hacking. 

And he stops to think, the flowers, how could I forget. It comes to his attention that he should probably write a will for these sort of things. Not for those who will (not) miss him, but for small things. He has no friends, no housekeepers, but he surely has a lot of money and nowhere to put it. 

He's thought of it before, when he was in the hospital, however he never wrote it down. 

So he walks back to his house, and realizes how empty it is. Like a dolls house. There's so much empty space and so little furniture, not like he ever had anyone to invite over. It's a depressing sight. There's no family photos, there's no artwork. The kitchen is also empty, and there are half eaten plates where ants still continue to eat there. There are even glasses and plates collecting mold. There's spots and dried puddles of blood on the floors here and there, from when he never made it to the bathroom. Or he just never cared to go. He never bothered to clean up, who would he try to impress anyways? He's lost all motivation to clean, to take care of himself, to eat. He's pale, sickly, and skinny, his skin his oily, as well as his hair. And he's taken down all the mirrors in the house, not wanting to see his pitiful self any longer. 

He grabs a pen off the floor, he takes out a piece of paper from his poetry book, and starts writing. 

To whom it may concern

༺༻

After a while of writing, it's almost dark, and there's a Knock at the door. 

His body feels so heavy, as he gets up to slowly turn the doorknob. He grabs his notebook and pen, where he began to write his will, putting the notebook in his hand. He's hoping it's someone trying to sell something, hoping that there won't be any disturbance in his last days. He had planned to go on a walk to clear his mind, see the world around him one last time, in the orange glow of the sunset. 

He's cracked the door open, and suddenly the person on the other side pushes the door in very abruptly, for a second he wonders if it's a very rude criminal coming to rob him in broad daylight, this is until he's greeted with the face of the person in front of him. 

A very angry looking hajime, standing before himself. 

"We need to talk."

Komaeda looks calm, but inside his heart is racing. And chest tickles, just a bit. He knows he deserves whatever horrible thing hajime might say to him. He deserves any kind of hatred toward him, but he doesn't want it. He can't take the thought of hajime hating him. Even though it's been his goal all this time. 

"...a-about what, hinata-kun?."

Hajime flashes a look of disbelief, "What? About what?? How about  starting with the fact you've practically ghosted me and chiaki-?"

"-it was for the best, hinata kun. I didn't even think you'd care. You have each other, no need for trash like myself to impo-" komaeda cuts in, and is cut off. 

"Shut up. Just shut up!" The brunette raises his voice. "You've been my best friend for who knows how long. You think I wouldn't notice? For what? For some girl?"

"Not some girl, it's chiaki." It's always chiaki. Komaeda thinks. 

"And how about the fact that I found you coughing up blood, almost passed out!? The fact you've been missing school more and more, what the fuck is going on komaeda?" Hajime yells again. 

"I don't owe you an explanation, Hinata-kun." Komaeda looks to the side, and states coldly. 

"Right. Right, you don't." Hajimes voice wavers a little, and it's obvious he's on the verge of tears. He puts his hands on the side of his hips and sighs. 

Then, he grabs komaeda by the shoulders and pins him against the wall behind them. Knocking down a few book from the shelves beside in the process. 

Komaeda can't say anything, he can't even look his way. He doesn't know what he feels at this moment, and there's a possibility he feels everything. The heat from hinatas breath, his strong hands gripping his shoulders, the passion in hinatas voice, the guilt and shame he feels. For practically everything. 

The tickle in his throat, once again, stronger. 

And it's all too much for him to handle. 

"Why won't you look at me, komeada?" Hajime sounds sad, and sorrowful this time. It sends a shock of guilt through nagito. 

"Why won't you talk to me, komaeda?"

Nagito can't think straight, all he can think of now is the pang in his gut and in his throat. He just wishes hajime would stop. 

"Why won't you let me help you?"

Stop. 

"Why won't you help yourself?"

Please stop. 

"Nagito, I care about you."

"I'm here for you."

Hajimes practically crying through his tears, not bothering to fight back anymore. 

"Just tell me what's wrong. Say something nagito." 

He doesn't say anything, not because he doesn't want to, but because he can't, because hajime is holding him down. And he's trying to hold down his curse. 

He's shaking. He doesn't know how to respond to hajime, as if it would be worth anything. No matter what he says, hajime would just never really know. 

So he does the only thing he can. 

And he looks at hinata, he focuses on hinata. His tanned skin, brown hair, how they both glowed in the evening sunset. His barely noticeable freckles, how his shirt tightened around his toned body, how he always had a dominating stance for someone so sweet and gentle. 

Why now of all times to study his beloved? Because this will possibly be the last time he ever sees him. The man who killed him. 

And as komeada himself starts to feel hot tears running down his face, he looks at hajime with the most vulnerable look he can give to another. He takes his hand to hajimes cheek, and strokes it with his thumb. He looks into hajimes soul, his eyes. 

As if there was a silent agreement exchanged, both of them lean in and their lips meet with the other. It lasts for a few seconds. Its gentle and sweet. Hajime didn't know what he was doing, he didn't know how to process it. But to komaeda, the moment felt like forever. If he could spend all eternity with his lips locked with hinatas, he would. Then, as soon as it started, they part. 

"K-komaeda I-"

Nagito couldn't hold it down any longer. He fell to the floor and started to cough and wheeze. Horrible sounds ruptured from his mouth, along with blood and the same clumpy substance hajime saw from the day before. It's just worse now, it's all out of his control. Hajime can no longer protect komaeda, even as he spats out blood everywhere, so he freezes for a moment. 

Once he got out of his shocked state, he pulls out a phone and calls 911. Then he does the only thing he can, he leans next to komaeda, and holds him.

༺༻

Chapter Text

༺༻

Hinata sits in the business of the hospital waiting room. His hand clasped together against his mouth, his brows furrowed and right leg shaking. 

He was worried, so awfully worried about komaeda. He always has been, it's his best friend. He always wanted to protect Nagito in any way he could, from his luck, from the people that hurt him, from Komaeda himself. His thoughts drown out the voices of the bustling people. 

Hajime barely had time to process the situation, Komaeda was limp in his arms and he couldn't do anything to help. All he wanted to do was help Nagito, for Nagito to let him in like they used to. Then, more and more, he became unreachable. It was like he shut Hinata out completely. He wanted Nagito to come to him for everything like before. 

Hajime remembers the times Nagito and him would sneak up to the hills and talk for hours. Or the times one would appear in front of the other in sorrow, and they just knew to hold eachother throughout the night, like it's where they belonged. Like home, To Hajime, Nagito Komaeda was home. 

He doesn't know what he would do if he could never feel Komaedas gentle touch ever again, hear his gentle voice, admire his odd appearance.

Then, something rushes back to him, the kiss. He can't believe it slipped his mind. Hajime kissed him, or Nagito kissed him? He really doesn't know. Either way, now it won't stop replaying in his head. He doesn't know how to process it, or how to feel. I mean, he has a girlfriend, but he can't deny that he never thought of Nagito in that way, or about kissing Nagito, every now and then. Or all the time. 

But, who wouldn't right...? Face it, Komaeda was beautiful. To anyone. He looked like a ghost, or maybe an angel. His pale skin and white hair, matching perfectly with his beautiful grey-green eyes and soft features. He was tall and lanky, quite thin too, Hajime would nag Nagito to tell him he should gain a healthier weight. Everytime he held Nagito, or hugged the man, he could feel his frail frame and ribs press against him. As if he would break if he ever squeezed too hard. Practically taunting Hajime of his deteriorating health. He just wanted to handle Komaeda with care, more than anyone else, only him. 

He chuckles as he recalls the time he told him that if Nagito were a girl, he would have fallen for him in a heartbeat. 

Still, he doesn't think of Nagito in that way, he can't. He doesn't like guys, right? It's a thought that's been drilling a hole into his head since forever. Ever since they were kids he just couldn't imagine anyone else being with him but Komaeda, it was always komaeda, and it scared him. 

He swallows his throat as he remembers how his friends would use anything remotely involved with being gay as an insult, or the looks any lgbt couple he saw got on the streets. When his family would point and make fun at the gay couple kissing on TV, talking about how glad they were to have a normal son, "Their parents must be so disappointed".

The thoughts he had of Komaeda scared him badly, but he just couldn't bring himself to push him away.  He planned to Marry a beautiful woman, and live a natural life, with a normal spouse. Like things are supposed to be, once these unnatural thoughts were in order. 

Then, a beautiful woman did come into his life. Said beautiful woman asked him out, and he couldn't think of any reason not to. 

Don't get him wrong, he loves chiaki, he just wished he felt for her like he felt for Komaeda. He can't shake the question of if he really loves her because he wants to, or if he loves her because it's just what he's supposed to do. He thought it could help tone his feelings of Komaeda down for a while, and it worked. 

As a distraction, and only ever as a distraction. Because whenever he kissed her, or whenever he held her hand, he just wished it was with him. He couldn't even bring himself to engage with her sexually at all. He tried to play it off as being a gentleman, but for some reason, he always thought that was reserved for Komaeda and him. Even if there was no Komaeda and him to begin with. 

It just got worse after the night Nagito came out to him as gay. 

When he thought of marrying a woman, waking up next to a woman, it just felt like a task to check off on the to-do list. When he thought of waking up next to komaeda however, it felt like an unreachable fantasy. Hell, even when he thought of sex with a woman, he would do anything to replace a normal desired curvyness with Komaedas' thin and bony structure. He wanted more than anything to see his angelic face haloed by the rays of the sun as the first thing in the morning for the rest of his life. 

His thoughts were interrupted as a purple haired girl approaches him. 

She sits next to him, and places one hand on his shoulder. "H-hey Hajime. I assume you're here for Komaeda?"

Hajime nods, he notices how much mikan has grown as person in the last few years. Ever since she met chiaki, she became a little more confident. She still stuttered, she was still shy, but it was just much less now. Mikan looked genuinely happy these days, and he knows she has chiaki to thank for that. Chiaki and Mikan were really close, If chiaki wasn't playing video games, she was talking about Mikan. "Hey hajime! Today, Mikan ordered out in public all by herself." "Did I tell you that mikan knows how to sew really well?" "I took Mikan out to get a haircut, she looks really pretty!" 

Hajime sighs, he's really proud of her too. 

"When I heard h-he was coming here.. I volunteered to be the one to take care of him. I always have been. Even if I-it's in the hospital, or the time we met in the middle school nurses office."  She says softly. 

"He's always been sick, hasn't he?" Hajime replies, his voice is low looking distantly at the floor. 

"I-ill be honest, it's a miracle he's even here. But, He's a f-fighter, and he'll get through this like he gets through the others." She has a really optimistic look on her face. "Because we're here for him..." she trails off. 

"What's going on with him?" He says earnestly. "A few weeks ago... I found him on the floor coughing up blood and something else." He glances at her. "I'm so worried, Mikan." 

She pauses for a moment and wraps her arms around him, he returns the gesture. 

"I'll be honest w-with you Hajime, it doesn't look too good. I'm going to t-tell you something, and you need to have an open mind.."

Hajime nods his head. 

"H-have you ever heard of a disease caused by love? Where the victim grows flowers in their lungs.?" 

They release their hold as he stops to look at her. "You mean Hanahaki Disease? The one in books? I thought it was fictional!?". Hajime feels a lump in his throat as worry floods him. 

"Its not... you j-just have to be really unlucky to get it." She says with a sorrowful look on her face. 

"So does this mean everything else is real? He'll die if the person he loves doesn't love him back!?" He raises his tone just a bit, to Mikans discomfort, but she doesn't show it. 

"There's always the option of surgery, Hajime."

Then it dawns on him, the way he would talk about chiaki and him, the way he pushed hajime away once he started to go out with her, how he would get into coughing fits everytime he was around hajime, this kiss. 

It just couldn't be. He couldn't be the one. 

 Nagito, the root of his affection, hajime couldn't possibly be the cause for this? The cause for his pain. He's stunned, and silent. Once again he's not sure how he should feel, he could feel happy, but all he feels is guilt. 

"H-he could get the surgery... but there's such a thing as too little too late. You see, he's l-lost a lot of blood, and the surgery would have to start as soon as tomorrow night. Right now he's sleeping for a long time, not in a coma, he's just extremely exhausted and can barely speak." Mikan says with a regretful tone. 

"..." He really doesn't know what to say. 

"I'm so sorry Hajime... I'll come back when visitors are allowed in, okay?" She rubs his back reassuringly. He looks up to her "Thank you Mikan, you've been a lot of help." She smiles at him, and makes her way out the waiting room.  

Hajime almost bit the inside of his tongue, he just wanted it to stop. He knew that if he was Nagito's lover, he would treat him better than any of the other guys he's ever been with. But he couldn't be Nagitos boyfriend, it was unnatural, it was wrong. 

Only to the rest of the world. 

In his heart, he knew he wasn't fooling anybody. He was madly in love with Nagito Komaeda. 

It wasn't fair, not to him, not to Nagito, and certainly not to Chiaki. He had to at least try to show Komaeda he returned his feelings. That the kiss was like a dream come true to him. 

So he decided, he'll tell Chiaki the truth. Even if it hurts, he highly doubt she would be judgmental about the situation. Normally he would be nervous, but there's not much time to waste here. Even if he never gets Nagito back, to Hajime it's either Komaeda or no one. 

༺༻

Chapter Text

༺༻

Hajime opens his eyes to the warm illuming glow of the morning sun, slipping in between the cracks of the blinds and painting light onto his white colored sheets. 

Hajime knew that today was the day komaeda had to get surgery, meaning he had no time to waste to go down there and tell him how he felt about the other. Though first, he needed to make things clear to Chiaki. His chest sunk in itself as he dreaded the conversation, but Hajime was honest before all. 

It was Sunday, he decided to get ready in the morning anyways. As he's splashing water onto his face he hears the distant sound of a doorbell behind the closed door of the bathroom. 

He knows it's Chiaki, every now and then she'll make it her goal to get up early at least once and bring breakfast to Hajime. A blueberry muffin with plain coffee no sugar. 

He thinks for a moment, his heart is still pounding and his chest sunk in on itself even more. His conscience eats away at him from the inside out. He knows it has to be today, and it will probably have to be now, so he has time to make his way to the hospital before sundown. 

He hasn't even thought of what he's going to say, but is there ever a good way to explain his situation?

He swallows his conscience and pretends it fills the pit in his stomach, he rinses his mouth once, checks his hair, "I'll be right there!" , and makes his way through his modern architecture apartment to the slick black door. 

"I've never liked modern architecture, it's boring, there's no more meaning- history in the homes." 

The memory of Komaedas complaint to Hajime about his apartment comes back to him, he pushes his thoughts away and opens the door. 

"Took you long enough." Said the pink haired girl. 

She has a brown bag in her hand, along with a dark blue jacket with a Nintendo in the bulge of her front pocket. 

"Um, thanks." He takes the bag and let's her in, closing the door behind him and facing her. 

"I need to talk to you about something, promise you'll have an open mind. Promise you won't hate me." His voice is awkward. 

"Sure Hajime." She doesn't seem bothered at all. Hajime doesn't know if that's concerning or comforting. 

They both sit across from eachother at the small dining table. Brown bag sat in the middle of them. 

"There's no way I can think of easing into this, but I'll start from the beginning." 

She looks at him, as if she's genuinely listening. And she probably is, it's chiaki. 

Hajime looks down at his hands, he doesn't want to even bother looking her in the face, he doesn't want to bother even having a conversation. So he decided to go for it in one. It's so quiet, you could hear the clock ticking. 

"You know, komaeda and I have been great friends for a long time. We have a really special bond."

...

"And, overtime that bond grew stronger. And my care for him became... unnatural. I thought about him in a way that was more than friendship." 

He decides to look up, and chiaki too is looking down at her hands, avoiding eye contact with Hajime. But there's no turning back to what he's already started. 

"Chiaki, I thought that if I started to date you.. I-I.." his voice starts to quiver again, and he continues through a strained throat. 

"I thought they would go away. But they didn't. I thought th-that I could live a normal life, with a normal love, and I could cure myself of him... but I can't. I'm sick." 

...

"I-I'm so sorry... I'm sorry I lied to you, and pretended for so long." He swallows back as much tears as he can. 

A few moments go by of chiaki being silent, looking down at the floor. Then all of a sudden, she starts to sob. She starts to heave hard, even more than hajime, and Hinata feels despair make its home in the walls of his chest. Like poison running through him. 

He doesn't know what to do, he rarely, if not ever, sees her cry. Sees her cry this much. And hajime remembers, it's either this, hurting chiaki by telling the truth, or hurting both, hurting himself. 

"I'm so sorry Chiaki, I-I know that's not fair to you. I didn't mean to use you I just-" 

"No, hajime, I'm not crying because I'm sad." She says, in a raspy voice.

"I'm crying because I'm relieved."

Relieved that she can get rid of me, maybe, ouch. 

"Wwhat? I don't understand...?" Out of all the outcomes he could have thought of, he wasn't expecting this. 

"I did the same thing... H-Hajime, I've been in love with a girl for years."

Huh?

"Even now. I wrote about it in a diary, my parents found it, they said if I didn't get a boyfriend by the end of the year they'd send me to a camp." There's a distress in her voice. 

Hajime stood there, this time he was the silent one. As if the words didn't reach his ears fast enough. 

When he processes it all, he decides not to push her about what happened or who she loves. (Though, now that he knows, it's quite obvious.) He feels relieved too. Comforted. As if they're shared experience was a medicine that flushed out his poison. 

"So, we're the same Hajime. I'm sorry for using you too." Shes stopped crying as much now, her voice returns to the typical gentle voice it always is. 

She makes her way to Hajime's side of the table, and wraps her arms around him from behind. She kisses his temple. "Please understand, we don't need to change ourselves. We don't need to fix ourselves, don't be ashamed of who you are." 

They're both gross, hajime sniffles a little. He doesn't know what to say, but he squeezes her hand, and Chiaki knows he appreciates it. 

"Komaedas in the hospital." He tells her blankly. 

"I know, mikan told me, I was going to ask if you wanted to go see him today." 

"Yeah, please." 

They let go, and both get themselves cleaned up. In hajimes' boring home, as a couple, for the last time. 

"Chiaki, let's break up." He's not afraid to say it now, the words relieve both of them. 

"Yeah, let's." She gives out a coarse -barely- chuckle. 

༺༻

Komaeda woke up early, his pain is a little better, but it's hard to breathe. It's hard to speak. All he can do is lie down and wither away. 

It must be so early in the morning, maybe around 6, because the sky is a new blue. The sun is barely put yet. Monotone and tired. More than half of the lights aren't even on, He wonders how many people are waking up, dreading to go to work. Especially if it's a Sunday, Or with a stranger in bed from the night before. 

How many people are spending the morning intertwined with their beloved. 

He stares at the ceiling and waits. He thinks about what he did, how he probably ruined everything between him and hajime. Hajime must be so disgusted with himself. To touch the lips of someone like him so carelessly, Komaeda might as well have lost his morality. Guilt and regret swallows him whole, but it's not like he could do anything else. 

He starts tearing up again, but does everything in his willpower to try and prevent it. 

He sees beside his table, a notebook, and pen. 

He sits up, grabbing them both, as he writes on the first page. 

To Hajime Hinata

༺༻

A few hours go by as the sun settles in and the hospital starts to fill with noise. 

The outside is now orange, and pink. The glow is certainly beautiful. Komaeda had always wanted to be a morning person, he thought the beginning of the day was something so precious. Although it was rare he got a chance to see it, focous on it, he was always awake with himself at night. 

He wasn't a fan of the night, he didn't like the dark. Komaeda got paranoid quite easily, he was so weak and venerable to anyone. Alone, sick, in a giant mansion. 

The only time he didn't mind were the nights he spent with hajime. It would be dark, the world would be silent, nothing but the rustling of the woods and crickets filing their wings together. Everything seemed so big, and they were so small, it felt as if they were the only two people in the world. 

Knock knock "Nagito? I'm coming in." Chimes in a soft voice. 

"I brought you some water, your throat is shattered from the thorns. I'm not sure you could handle eating anything right now."

She places the glass of water on the table beside him, and pulls a chair from under it, sitting down. The room is filled with silence. She's aware he can't speak, and he doesn't even bother to make any attempt at communication. All he does is sit and look forward. 

"W-well.. let's discuss something, okay?" He nods. 

"Your throat will only get worse, even if we're able to stabilize your condition, chances are if you stay like this another day you won't be able to speak ever again... this is why we need to get you the surgery tonight at least. We can't force you, all I need is your okay."

He stares at her, she's waiting for him to nod in approval, but he doesn't. He just looks at her. 

"K-komaeda? Let me know it's okay."

She knows Nagito isn't the kind of person to value his own life, but she's desperately hoping he won't take the path that she's thinking. 

"N-Nagito?" 

He flips a page of his notebook, the room still quiet, you could hear the pen pushing against the paper. 

I won't be taking the surgery. 

Mikan doesn't react much, expression wise, at least not to Komaeda. It's because she expected this reaction, and she knows there's nothing she can do. So she simply gets up, and walks out the room. 

Rushing herself quickly through the hallways, footsteps matching the pace of her swift moving arms. Making her way into a small storage closet. 

And for the first time, in a year of self progression, she cries so hard, and feels so useless.

Chapter Text

༺༻

Hinata has his hands placed on the steering wheel, his upper body is calm while his foot and leg bounce in anxiousness. The leather starts to become a gross sweaty texture from his palms, Hajime licks his lips. Waiting for each red light he comes across to turn green. 

He could see the tall hospital building from afar, arising over the high freeway and various other buildings. All he wants is komeada in his reach, to tell him how he feels. To properly return the kiss they both shared. 

His mind is on autopilot, as if he was a robot programmed for one purpose. He makes his way to the parking lot through the hospital as swiftly as he can. 

He was never fond of hospitals, he always felt uncomfortable. The atmosphere felt as if despair lived in these walls. Every scene he saw was the same, just sad. 

Of course, not everyone dies 24/7 in hospitals, there were the occasional (usual) common cold, sick and sticky kids taken in from paranoid mothers. 

Hajime considered himself a healthy man, he ate well and kept in shape. He would sometimes take in some handyman jobs over the summer, which gave him some sort of muscular build. One of the only things he felt as if he was at least okay with was his physical status. 

He wished he could say the same for Komaeda. 

Nagito was always so thin and not very active, he kept to himself indoors. Constantly getting himself in accidents, constantly going into intensive unit care. 

Most of the time Hajime was the only person who visited him. It was tiring, looking around at all those people next to him worried if their loved ones would be okay. While he worried if his loved one would be okay. 

Though, in the end, hope always overcame despair. All those hours spent in the waiting room, having panic attacks, worrying, it was all worth it to receive the news that komaeda was okay. He was weak, but he was safe. 

Then he would walk in, and grasp his slim bony hands, holding them in his gently. 

༺༻

Hajime finally made his way to the unit komaeda was in, sitting in a waiting room that smelled of bitter antiseptic, artificial, and.. clean? He sat down, his leg started to bounce again, as his hands are clasped together and he bites pieces of skin from his chapped lips.

He waits for what feels like forever for Mikan to arrive, he wondered why when he wanted moments to last forever, it felt so short. When he wanted time to do his bidding, it went so painfully slow. 

All-day has been non-stop thinking of komeada. Komaeda komaeda komaeda. 

He puts his head in his hands and grabs at the short ends of his hair. He groans, and sets his hands on the back of his neck. He's a few stories up, and orange light from the windows leaks into the waiting room. 

Komaedas favorite time of day was anytime the sun gave a golden glow, however, he specifically mentioned how he preferred to watch the sun come up than go down. 

He only wished komeada would live to see another sunrise. 

༺༻

After a few more moments of looking hard at the ground, two plain white shoes appear beneath him. 

Looking up, he sees mikan and quickly stands to face her. However, she only avoids eye contact, looking down and playing with the hem of her apron. 

He notes this because only ever did the old mikan do this. When she would try to hide the fact she cried, and his heart sinks. 

His throat feels like it's being blocked, he's too nervous to speak. So he also looks at the ground, the energy emanating from both of their body languages gives an obvious tone. 

She's been crying, and it must be because somethings wrong with komeada. 

She clears her throat, and in a strained voice "we thought he could have at least been in stable condition f-for overnight at least."

He just wishes she would stop talking at that moment, he won't grab onto every word, but he can't help but stand there. He just wants to cover his ears with his hands and back into a corner like a child. 

 "I-I think due to his prior poor health, his body c-couldn't handle the effects of the disease."

Please be fucking with me, mikan. Please. PLEASE. 

She hands him a page of crumpled notebook paper. 

'I won't be taking the surgery'

"Im so sorry, Hajime."

༺༻

Hajime crumpled up the paper and threw it to the side— "No. he can't be dead, he. Can't be gone!" He digs his nails into her shoulders, as her eyes widened. 

"He's not dead... but he's not conscious, I-I don't want to give you false hope. Situations like these will take a miracle for the patient to come out alive." She talks back to me sternly. 

"Then you don't know Nagito. Please, just let me see him."

"Alright."

༺༻

These never got easier, every time he entered a hospital room and komeada would be laying on the bed, sick and helpless, Hajime couldn't bear to look at it. It was worse when he was sleeping, or resting, he always thought, if he squinted hard enough, he would look like a corpse. 

I guess now, he wasn't too far off. 

Because there before him, Nagito spread on the blue sheets of the bed, his neck, and hands are bandaged up. There are patches of large band-aids scattered all over his skin, and multiple needs and wires connected to him. He's not at all conscious, at least not from what he can tell. 

It was so horrifying. 

Not because he was unpleasant to look at himself, but because it was like a gust of realization running through him, his heart sunk to his abdomen. It was like nervousness or guilt took the form of a knife and plunged deep into his gut. 

He knew Nagito was dying, but it took a while for Hajime to wrap his head around. You can't fully comprehend something until it's right in front of you, at that moment. 

He didn't want to take the surgery. I mean— it's not completely out of character for him to do such a thing, but he can't imagine how low one's self-esteem must be to just let themselves die. 

Though, as he thinks about it more, it makes sense. In Nagios head, there's no one. There can't be a single point where anything went well for him. If he was in his shoes, at this point, could you ever imagine a happy ending? 

"You can't just let him die, can't you do something!? Force him to do it!"Hajime grabbed her shoulders again and yelled, shuttering beneath him, he truly didn't mean to make her feel as if it was her fault in any way. He was just so.. Overwhelmed. 

"You think I don't want to!?" she yelled back at him, he was stunned, he's never seen Mikan yell back at someone, ever. 

"Y-you think I didn't curse him out.. or try to convince them to let me do it, do you think i'm really that useless that I wouldn't want to save my best friend..?" her arms are held tight to her chest, body language signifying meekness and submission, however, her voice says different. 

"Legally, I-I can't give the surgery to someone who doesn't want it."

...

"I-it's so selfish, everything he's doing is so selfish," she states coldly, trying to hold back her tears. Making her way to stand above Komaedas hospital bed. Slowly, her hand covers her mouth as she turns her head to the side. Her lips are quivering and they give out as she lets out one heavy sob. 

Her knees give out, and she's dropping to the floor grasping Komaeda's limp hand in hers. 

"Selfish, selfish, selfish, I hate you.." 

Hajime doesn't know what to do, but it's as if what mikans feeling is contagious somewhat. His anger boils over to grief, to despair. He realized, once again, he can't do anything.

He only sinks to the floor as she did, taking Komaedas other limp hand in his. 

The sky is no longer a beautiful orange glow. Just cold and black. 

༺༻

Chapter Text

To Hajime Hinata,

If I remember correctly, we first met at the gates of my mansion's backyard. 5 years old, A little tanned boy who had snooped and fallen into the dirt. You were so cute, I wanted to keep you as a pet. I wanted to hide you away from everyone and hold you for myself. 

10 years old, I ran away. Well— I wouldn't exactly call it that, I didn't necessarily have a home to run away from. Not anymore, to have a home is to have a family. 

Actually, I take back my previous statement. I ran home, I ran to you. 

13 years old, I was hospitalized. No one was there, no one but you. 

16 years old, I was crying alone on the ground with dirt between my nails and rocks pressed into my knees as the cold air surrounded me. 

I was then swept away and kept warm by what could only be described as serenity itself. My anguish melting under the touch of the sun, and If home is where the heart is, then as long as yours is beating I will never be abandoned. 

I've clung to you like left out honey on a countertop, all I've ever wanted to do was reach my hands to your face and cradle you. I wanted to wake up next to you every morning, wrapped in blankets and covered in soft touches. 

I've taken advantage of you. All those nights you let me hold you, I just clung and attacked myself to you. And even now when my body can't hold you anymore, my soul will cradle you where my hands cannot. 

I was completely and utterly enamored in your entire being. Feel free to stop reading now, and just tear this letter to pieces, but I can't help but pine for you. Even if I am worthless. 

Assuming you're informed of my condition, I have to say that this illness wasn't the worst thing that had happened. I began to accept and embrace it in a way, if you think about it it's such a poetic way to die, by love. 

I don't think I would have ever wanted to go out anyway else. 

I love you, I'm sorry.

                                                        Sincerely, 

Nagito Komaeda

Chapter Text

Hajime opens his eyes, they feel puffy and heavy, his body is sore and uncomfortable. 

He's still in the hospital room, with Komaeda's hand in his. He must have fallen asleep, his hand reaches over to his shoulder, and feels a small throw blanket thrown onto him. It must have been Mikan, she probably left while he slept. Or maybe, he was just crying so much he didn't realize she was gone. 

He lays his head down on the flimsy hospital mattress, holding Komaeda's one hand with both of his, as his head laid beside his stomach. For some reason, he didn't want to look up. 

He didn't want to look up at this damn hospital anymore, he didn't want to look at komaeda looking sick and devoid of life. He didn't want to smell the alcohol scent and plastic filling the room. Or hear the keeping of the heart monitor. 

As he closed his eyes and tightened his hand around the white-haired boy, he imagined a scenario he wanted to be present in. Komaeda and him on a lazy Sunday morning, the smell of pancakes and sweet laughter filling the air. Fingers interlocking and mouths brushing up against each other sloppily. 

"To have a peaceful, domestic life with you, That's all I want." 

༺༻

Komaeda slowly regained consciousness, however, he notices he could not open his eyes just yet. He didn't want to. He was far too weak to even move a single bit, it all felt the same as before, it felt like life was draining from him at every passing moment at a torturing slow rate. 

However, something felt different, his arm was being held up halfway by something as his hand was wrapped in warmth. 

"To have a peaceful, domestic life with you. That's all I want."

'Hajime...?' the man thought, he didn't believe it. He thought he was being delusional, but it all felt so real. He could feel his warm hands, and tears as his own hand was held against his cheek. 

"Mikan was right... You are selfish. For leaving me, for abandoning someone who loves you." he says. 

'Loves me?'  Nagito got excited by the words, but he was still uncertain if it was the same kind of love he felt for the olive-eyed man. 

"I missed you Nagito, I missed you so fucking much. I never stopped dreaming of you every night."

Nagito was... Speechless to describe it, if he could speak. He still refused to accept Hajime was being sincere. 

"You are so.. Full of shit. When you say you're ugly, I've never met anyone more beautiful in my life. Or interesting, or smart." he's still looking at the ground. 

This time, he sets Komaeda's arm down, and gently sits on the hospital bed, looking over komaeda.

"I don't get why you have to be so damn difficult all the time, but even I love that about you." Said Hajime. 

Komaeda swore his chest got lighter as he held onto each word. 

"I love you."

And his body became warmer. 

Then, he feels rough fingertips on his chin, holding his face gently, he smells wood and cheap cologne. Hajime leans down over Nagito's face and presses his lips softly against the other , interlocking once more. 

Hajime feels something, a pressure against his mouth. Nagito is kissing him back. 

The albino slowly, weakly reaches his hands to wrap around the brown-haired boy's neck. 

"Hajime..." it's so quiet, you can barely hear it. 

He then pulls Hajime down to his lips again, it's deeper this time, and more sloppy. But it's just so passionate.

"Hajime." He's still weak, but you can hear it well this time. 

Hinata dips down and hungrily engulfs his mouth with Komaedas, cheesy smacking sounds, and just even more sloppy as they go, but it's just so addicting that neither of them can stop. It's something they both desired and yearned for years. His hands are still cradling Komaeda's face and Komaeda has his fists pulling at Hajime's hair, grabbing at anything he can. 

They break apart for fresh air, and Hinata quickly feels guilty for being so rough so soon with an ill man who just woke up. That was until--

"Hajime, I love you too." His voice is clear as if he was never sick at all, and he hugs Hajime in one swift movement. As if he was never sick at all. 

"N-Nagito...Nagito?" he hesitantly wraps his arms around the other, as if it was a dream. After feeling Komaedas warm body for himself, he hugs him tighter and tighter. He can't resist but run his fingers through his beautiful white hair and kiss his forehead a million times. 

Even in the night sky, the stars shone so brightly. 

༺༻

"Hey... Baby, wake up." Hajime shakes Nagito gently. 

"Mmmmmh..."

Nagito turns away from Hajime, pressing his face angrily into the pillows. He was never a morning person, Hinata noted. 

Nagito turns his body to face the other, "Hajime, it's Sunday. Let me sleep." his words are barely audible from being muffled by the pillows. 

Hajime stays silent for a moment to look at the sight in front of him. Truth is, there was no real reason to wake Nagito up at 7 am, but he just wanted to see his lovely husband's eyes in the orange glow of the beautiful spring morning. There he is, long limbs sprawled and wrapped in white sheets. Nothing to cover him up but the fabric, as red and purple marks are engraved into his skin from the night before. He has more of a lean toned build now, no longer painfully thin, as his sickness got better his body got much healthier. He's dressed in sunlight, and he truly looks like an angel. 

Meanwhile, Nagito looks up to the man in front of him, tan golden skin haloed against golden sunlight. The crevices and details of his slightly toned body are accented his long eyelashes and hair look as if they're glowing. He feels so lucky, how could he possibly stay mad at this beautiful Greek statue of someone who's far too pretty to be human. 

It was a perfect moment as if no worry from the future or past could reach them under their sheets or into their arms. 

They could finally hold each other, touch each other, wake up next to each other as they see the other as the first thing in the morning, and cuddle dangerously close to late. To finally say "You're mine and I am yours." 

"I love you so much, Hajime."

"I love you too, now let me go make some pancakes."

༺༻

"To have a peaceful, domestic life with you, That's all I want."