Chapter Text
A year.
A year.
A whole year.
Aha.
It’s nearly impossible for him to stop his legs from shaking as they’re clutched to his chest, rocking on the golden sand. His skin is prickling, ribcage heavy as he looks into the cerulean sea. This was nothing like the times that Tsumiki came, where his nerves were alive with electricity. His heart is burning, burning, and it’s almost suffocating ; he’s the creature on the picture perfect beach that shifts the whole scene astray.
He hopes Hinata wouldn't be terrified.
The idea that anyone should ever be around anyone as unfortunate as him should be unthinkable. It’s why, after all, under the facade of importance he was kept here, and yet...
His coat feels so heavy on his shoulders, and his breath is shallow. It’s a nervous ache as he starts to see the shape of the ship appear on the horizon. It’s hard to stay calm, it’s so very hard to stay calm right now, but he has to stay calm, because if he doesn’t, the idea of Hinata-kun seeing something so unsightly is…
Ah.
Ahah.
His fingers thrum on his jacket.
So unpleasant.
Would he still talk to him then…?
Hinata.
Such a fresh voice, an energetic voice. Sharp, young, and very much hopeful.
He draws circles in the sand, before stretching out his body so he’s leaning out and letting the sun fall on his skin.
Then the boat docks. The boy’s off the boat, running along the wooden pier, hair a mess, shrugging off his black blazer, and the sight of the familiar figure sets his heart into frenzy. Komaeda tries his hardest to stand and walk forward.
When Komaeda approaches him, even with his hair disheveled, black blazer half off, spitting sand out of his mouth, he thinks the other boy looks…
well.
Ahah.
A sense of deja vu washes over him.
Of course Hajime Hinata looks really well .
...
It's hot today. Unbelievably hot. The air is still, with not a cloud to be seen hanging in the clear blue sky. Hinata didn't remember the island having been so quiet. With the absence of birdsong, and the missing wind, the trees didn't rustle how they usually did. It was almost as if the island decided altogether that today they would halt any symphony.
Hinata doesn't believe in superstition, but it really felt like the whole island was holding its breath, like he felt in his own chest. An unsettling calm before a building storm.
“Why are you here?“
Steady gray eyes. Steady voice.
It’s no secret amongst the Future Foundation just what Hinata’s intentions were for coming here. Whether it was paranoia, or perhaps intuition, Hinata didn't know, but he could have sworn that the past month held a few more snickering glances than he was used to.
Just yesterday morning when he first left, the girls giggled before he set off on the bus. Even with their own ridiculously large carrier bags, overloaded suitcases and a daunting political, recruitment mission in front of them, Saionji and Sonia had the energy and focus to laugh at him. What was even worse was the sigh of relief that came afterwards when Hinata finally boarded. Of the three in the group, only Koizumi had been kind enough to give a muted, shy wave and “Good Luck, Hinata-kun.”
It was terrible because while the girls click clacked off to their coach in immaculate fashion to save the world, Mr. “Ultimate Hope” Hajime Hinata felt just a little like he was being treated as a toddler getting silenced after throwing a tantrum. Naegi had been nice about it, but Naegi was always nice.
And it got worse. His seven hour long bus ride was plagued with the voices of Tanaka and Souda, who had for once united in what felt like targeted harassment of the poor boy, who could only do so much to block out the jeers when his two friends sat directly behind him.
“Man, finally, Sonia-san's happy to see someone else leave other than me! And she likes you, dude, so maybe I have a chance! What do you think, Hinata?”
Thanks, Souda.
“Indeed, your consistent sighing has seemed to darken the countenance of even the dark queen herself. It is truly… impressive.”
Thanks, Tanaka.
“Quiet, you! Sonia-san’s a pure princess! She has no place in your weird, dark- whatever!”
Thank you, both of you, for your overwhelming support.
“Hnnn…” The grey-skinned boy drawled out, long and awkward, pulling his purple scarf over his nose before a chirpy little critter pops out from his scarf to stick a tongue out at the shark-toothed male.
“What kind of response is that, huh?!” The pink haired male folds his arms, slouching into his seat. “Oi, Hinata. Did you see that?” He turns angrily to the powder-faced boy. “What the hell does Sonia-san even see in you?!”
But Hinata sank into his bus seat, the worst part was knowing he was guilty as charged. He wondered just how annoying he had been these past few months to bring even these unstoppable forces together in agreement, and to receive such unified relief from the three girls.
Probably like an angsty teenager.
Probably like some hormonal, angsty teenager…
Groaning, Hinata really hoped that wasn’t how he'd been acting. He’s a grown man, and the thought makes him want to disappear into the wet soil beneath his feet…
Regardless of how obvious it was for the Future Foundation, there existed a world both more oblivious and frustrating than one where Tanaka and Souda co-existed...
Jabberwock Island.
It’s in this location that the reason for Hinata’s visit might as well have been Top-Secret classified information for its sole inhabitant, currently focused with 100% of his attention on the plants in front of him as he turns on the sprinklers with a flick of his metal arm, and the water is a slow trickle. It’s a simple task, but the pale-haired boy is putting full intensity into it, as if to distract himself from thinking of anything else.
But…
Perhaps the one perk of Komaeda’s laser-point focus was that Hinata had a lot of time to look at the boy with his peculiar, stark ivory hair- more often a mess than not- wearing that same oversized crumpled jacket, too hot for a summer day. He's intense as ever, gentle eyes locked onto the activity in front of him, winged lashes painting delicateness into his look. It’s a muddled feeling in his gut, a mixture of relief, happiness, and anxiety whenever he looked at the boy. A yearning feeling hangs in his chest: he was so much more lively compared to when he last saw him; a scene primarily surrounded by artificial white walls and blue curtains, flowers sitting innocently in the bedside vase, gray eyes silent and devoid of confidence.
It's a feeling of regret.
Here on the island, the endless blue curtains were painted with white clouds, and trees lined the pathways. Here, under the colours of the sea and sky, his deathly pale skin wasn’t as striking as it was back then. A pale hand moves to brush white curls away from his eyes, and Hinata notes that the other boy’s hair has grown slightly longer, and the sharpness of his features more pronounced. Are his eyelashes longer? The way they flutter about his eyes trying to disguise the intense nature of the boy’s steely gaze.
Surrounded by the green fields, puff of hair a mess, the young man looks so innocent, minding his own business as he flicks the switch off, scrawls along his clipboard and sets off to find the next sprinkler. Komaeda’s completely on task in complete, calm efficiency.
Hinata couldn't help but feel like he was intruding. Like he was unwelcome.
They’ve already been through several of their destinations together, after working through Rocketpunch Market and surveying the beach, and it was… pathetic. After the initial excited banter, an eerie quiet found itself nestled between them both, and the silence was anything but kind. All sorts of questions ran through Hinata’s head, because he could only count one instance where Komaeda had been the first one to talk to him… and it was only to say sorry when the lights suddenly went out. He felt pathetic that it was enough to send skippy palpitations through his chest, because otherwise the boy had hardly glanced at Hinata the whole morning, and it really didn’t help the growing pool of anxiety doing backstrokes in Hinata’s gut since he’d arrived on the island.
Hinata begrudgingly admits that he didn't expect the boy to be so… cold.
Did he hate him now? Every night then, was it just to entertain him? The boy trying his hardest to be useful in any shape or form to an Ultimate?
Or... was he hard to look at?
Sure, Hinata fiddles with his tie. Maybe he wasn’t the most handsome man on earth, but he was by no means ugly, was he? The few times he’d caught Komaeda so much as glance at him, the boy seemed to almost wince, turning away immediately with a pained look on his face. Once, he could have sworn he even saw a shiver.
Back in the program, things were so different, and he couldn't remember anything but compliments running down his skin. Not to mention, a bit over year ago, after they’d just gotten out of the program…
If anything, he’d personally thought the past year looked… rather good on him? If the sudden spike in compliments from distant colleagues working at the Future Foundation was anything to go by, of course.
It wouldn't be that. He’s… relatively sure, but he can feel his forehead tense in aggravation because he wasn't sure what it was.
Well, whatever it was, it shouldn’t take something so simple to wear on him. It’s frustrating how even in the past, the boy didn't even have to try and he was already under his skin, getting the gears to turn gratingly in his head, hitting all his weak spots without batting a delicate little eyelid.
But all things considered, it’d been a year. After a year, surely… it wouldn’t be for nothing, right? Someone could go from start to at least a decent place in a year. He’d taken it into account… he’d tried. But he still didn’t think…
He scoffs. His own self-pity is disgraceful. He’s not sure what he expected. He’s about to laugh at himself, if the nausea didn’t hit his stomach; if he didn’t feel like he’d be sick. And the thought of those sharp, foreign-familiar eyes watching him retch is just not what he wanted right now.
For someone to look so familiar, and yet…
Hinata clutches himself tighter.
That's not a helpful thought.
After almost a year, the foreign presence was like meeting a stranger. In fact, Hinata knew for a fact meeting a stranger would be less suffocating. There’s been a lot he’d missed out on, only familiar anymore with a detached voice over the receiver, usually when the events of the day had already passed, and both of them were settled inside their bedrooms, mundanely going about their respective tasks. Hinata lets out a shudder of a breath, fingers fiddling with his tie to calm him down. Again, it’s all he can do to suppress the ridiculous feeling Hinata got when he thought about things too much.
He had to remind himself to let go.
You can’t keep doing this forever. It’s the way things are now. You have to move forward. Keep moving forward, and look in front of you…
Stop being such a coward.
So he looks in front of him.
His eyes widen.
He’s there to catch the end of a fleeting glance, and his heart drops when the other boy physically flinches upon meeting mismatched eyes. In the moment, the arm of his jacket gets caught by a stream of water dripping from the dead hanging sprinkler, and then the boy’s looking at his sleeve sullenly.
This is a chance, Hinata thinks, patting the dirt off his trousers as he stands. He slips the windmill blueprints into the duralumin case before walking over, reaching out and tentatively tugging at the shoulders of the other boy’s jacket. The boy before him jolts as he turns to stare up at him. Hinata can practically feel the colour of his cheeks in the summer heat.
“Uh… why don't you give this to me? Maybe I can hold onto this while it dries?” He says, giving the jacket another little tug, and grey eyes widen. “I mean… it’s way too hot today, anyway, right?”
“... It’s a minor insignificance.” The boy turns back, voice a little breathless, probably from crouching so long, bent over the crops. “It’s probably something I deserve, considering I let the windmill fail under my watch, and to waste your time like this. Besides, to use the Ultimate Hope as a measly coat hanger? I would never consider it...”
Hinata furrows his brow, mental attempt to ignore the self-deprecation. “Then… maybe I could just… tie it to your waist?”
Komaeda thinks for a moment, fingers lifting to ghost over his lips. It’s such a small decision, but the silence is deafening.
“If that’s really what you want, you can do so.”
Hinata furrows his eyebrows.
“Uh… but is that what you want?”
The boy blinks blankly back at Hinata, before his gaze drifts elsewhere. “It doesn’t really matter what I want, as long as it’s what you want, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda huffs, as if it’s obvious. “The feelings of someone who’s hardly an Ultimate are hardly consequential.”
Hinata can’t help the skeptical look on his face. It’s so matter of fact, Hinata can almost tell it’s not something he wants.
“So, I only want to do what Hinata-kun thinks is best.” Komaeda says, voice tilting cheery as he finishes, but his voice betrays no real emotion, and Hinata can’t figure out why on earth the boy is so purposefully distant.
“Well… maybe I’d want you to do something you want… for once.”
“Huh?” That the incredulity in his voice is the first genuine thing he’s heard all morning grates on Hinata’s nerves. “But why would you want something as ridiculous as that? Ha, I wouldn’t trust my own decisions over any Ultimate’s… ever!”
The pitched tone of the final note strikes a cold cord in Hinata’s blood, and he hardly thinks this argument is worth having over a jacket. His eyebrows are knit together, patience starting to run thin. There’s a weight in his lungs which was previously worry, mixing into mild annoyance and frustration. But he can feel the light breaths of the boy before him as well, and in this simple interaction…
At least he’s captured his attention.
“... So is it a good idea to take off the jacket, or not?”
“Well, considering what we’re doing, I imagine the bottom would drag along the floor quite a lot, Hinata. But if you want, we can still do it-”
Oh. So he did have an opinion after all… and free thought. Who would have guessed.
“Then no… you could have just said so.” Hinata mumbles, eyes falling on the sprinkler.
“Is that all, then?” Komaeda’s voice, and something uncomfortable clenches at Hinata’s chest. “We should really get back to work.” He watches as the white haired boy dusts at his jeans, and with a blank smile he walks off without looking back, headed straight for the rickety looking windmill in the distance. It’s not in good shape at all, with several blades hanging loose and the rotor’s spin rickety and weak.
With a sigh, Hinata picks up his briefcase and follows. The boy was just… really something, and today was not shaping out to be a good day, nor the week a good idea. In his head, he mentally reminds himself that it really wasn’t his fault, and sometimes Komaeda was just difficult. And if he was going to be difficult, then Hinata really didn’t have the patience for it.
They’re almost at the windmill when the boy in front of him stops to suddenly look up, and Hinata almost knocks into him, but manages to maneuver around him in the last second- but Hinata’s feeling disgruntled, petty, and determined not to let Komaeda get to him any longer if he was really going to spend the rest of the day pretending Hinata wasn’t even there, so he walks straight past.
It’s not until he reaches the windmill that he looks around and sees that the other boy wasn’t directly behind him anymore. Heartbeat, and his eyes frantically dart around until he sees him under a nearby tree, eyes fixed to the side, hands clasped onto his sleeves, biting his lip.
It’s not until the ring of distant thunder rings through the air that Hinata jolts to attention, and their eyes snap together.
Was it really going to rain?
Hinata groans, before pulling out the blueprints from the case.
What an unlucky day.