Chapter Text
"Hey. Can you hear me?"
It starts the same way every time.
“... Hello?” Hajime groans, groggy and confused.
“Ahah… Hajime, good morning!” The voice on the other side of the line was too damn chirpy for these hours of the day.
“Nagito? Do you know what time it is?”
“4am-” Nagito said it as if he deserved some kind of reward. “-but no time is too early for hope!”
A rustle, the sound of a man’s sleep-drunken movements as he scratches idly at his hair, and readjusts his duvet. It’s 4am and Nagito is waking him up for… this?
“4am is too early for- nevermind.” He knows there’s no point explaining these things to people like Nagito. “Look. If you don't have anything important to say, I’ll call you again tomorrow?”
“Hey, Hajime, before you go-” Another groan. Hajime yawns into the darkness, his lip curling up in disbelief.
“Nagito.” It’s stern, and shuts him up. “Is everything okay?”
There’s a brief yes from the other end of the line, and Hajime lets out a long sigh. “Then do we really have to do this now? Just- just go to sleep.” The last part comes out as a whine, to Hajime's dismay. There’s a silence before a strange cough-laugh hybrid that Hajime really can’t be bothered to figure out. Then, there’s a jovial “good night!”, a prolonged beep, and he was finally alone again.
Hajime slumps back into his pillow, fighting the urge to toss the phone onto the drawer beside his bed. Resting on it, a black electronic clock flashes 4:05am in neon. He had two hours… two more hours of sleep before Fuyuhiko would knock on his door, and they’d have to travel to Towa City, in an attempt to clean up some of the mess they’d left there, and help as many people as they possibly could.
God… Perhaps somewhere between the time it took for him to put on his tie, and rush downstairs to meet Fuyuhiko, he’d call Nagito?
It’s not like breakfast was important anyway.
...
Sometimes, like tonight, Hajime would have dreams that Nagito was there. The white-haired boy was usually so noisy; but today, the boy was quiet. Hajime felt Chiaki beside him, holding onto his sleeve. They’re both staring at the body, motionless, in the middle of the room.
Hajime's stomach felt hollow. He wanted to throw up.
...
Hajime leans against the open window sill, letting the blue light of the night sky glance into the room. He looks up at the moon, eyes tired and sleepy, watching his breath as it floats above the city for a few innocent seconds before fading away. In the daytime, the ruined buildings looked harsh and ugly; but bathed in blue, it was a different story. Was it wrong, in a way, to think something once so full of death and destruction… was even more beautiful, in a poetic way? Hajime shivered, the winter air clutching at him. Had this really all been… their fault? And Nagito had once been here, right?
“It’s… so cold here.”
“Towa city?” A wistful wince from the other side of the line. Hajime knew Nagito would rather be here. At the back of his mind, he thought the boy would fit the picture so perfectly, his tattered coat and frazzled hair to the rubble of the background. “I suppose...” A sigh. “The weather here on the other hand is the same as always.” There’s a tinge of frustration hanging off the end of the older boy’s words, but then Nagito laughs on the other end of the receiver, and Hajime can’t help but smile.
“At least it’s relaxing.” Hajime inwardly imagines bathing in the warm summer sun. He thinks if Nagito would rather be here amidst the ruins, he’d rather be lounging about on the beach without a care in the world. Must come with the lameness and predictability of his former existence as a reserve course student, he figured, shamefully. Nagito himself was never one to sit still, and Hajime realised the island was probably torture for him.
“Well, to put things into perspective…” and he could tell Nagito was determined to spin his vision around somehow, challenging as ever. “I went to the market today. I found a video cassette player hidden way back in storage.”
“Huh? Do people even use those anymore?” Hajime hums, and Nagito scoffs. Guess not. Regardless. “So you watched a few movies? It still sounds relaxing.” He didn’t remember the last time he had the time to sit and idle around.
“It is extraordinarily dull here, Hajime.” Nagito’s voice is laced in disbelief and disappointment, and Hajime couldn’t help but laugh, imagining the boy’s judgmental face. But right after, Hajime could feel the amusement and pride bleeding from the other end of the line, and the new chirp in his voice as the boy continued to talk, now that he had been successful at dragging a small laugh out of Hajime.
“I know Kazuichi is busy, but if he’s ever free, could we have him install cable? The selection of movies in the market is ridiculous. I know I’m worthless, so I don’t deserve anything better, but it’s unbearable even for scum like me.”
“I’ll ask.” Hajime's voice drawls out languidly, the lazy pace of the conversation easing into his veins. He rests his cheek against his folded arms. When had talking to this person become so normal?
“I’m not joking. This island is truly…” Hajime could hear Nagito ruffling his hair, before letting out an elated sigh as he found the words. “... Ah, despair-inducing! But I’m sure that Kazuichi would be able to do it!”
“Yeah, he would.” Hajime felt as if he could fall asleep, safe above the rest of the world. This fascinating world. Way below he sees the toy-like silhouettes of a mother and her two children, entering a patched up three-story building. Hajime smiles. Things would be okay. The crazy, talented bunch that had found themselves into class 77-B… they were finally doing right. And he thinks, perhaps, the reason this place was so magical, was that even though Hajime knew the greatest despair that had taken place here, it was because everyone, even the most ordinary of people, fought back so hard to live and never gave up, that it was now a place again where little fireflies of hope were emerging all over the night-fallen city, even more breathtaking than it ever could be in an eternal daytime.
And it wasn’t just the weather, Hajime knew, that had Nagito aching to come. Every time they called, the first thing Nagito would ask was “What have you done today?”. As much as it was flattering to think anyone had an interest in his boring self, what he knew the boy was asking for was the progress they had made.
When Hajime would run through the day to Nagito, that was when the boy was quietest, only listening intently but for the instinctual responses of occasional gasps and elated whimpers he’d hear over the phone. They were sounds that honestly never failed to make Hajime blush at how personal they sounded. He could easily picture the other boy, sitting at the edge of his seat, biting his fingernails with held breath, and often by the time Hajime would finish he’d suddenly hear the sound of laughter and clapping.
“Amazing! Splendid!”
Things that to any other human being would probably seem an overreaction- but to Nagito… for all the insane things he went through, the childlike amazement was completely real.
Peace.
Both minds leisurely walking through conversation, as if they were side by side, surrounded by the sway of palm trees. They sat in comfortable silence, and Hajime could hardly notice the winter chill on his skin anymore, but rather the calm nature of the night beside him.
The boy on the other side of the line starts again, a musing tone. “It’s been a while though, hasn’t it? Since I’ve seen any of you.”
But Hajime could sense a rejuvenated attention at the conversation, a bit of hesitation - as if he’d been meaning to bring it up earlier, but could only muster up the courage to bring it up now.
It's almost been a full year since he had last seen Nagito too. He knew that, but tried to push the fact out of his mind. Hajime tried to remain nonchalant, but there was a certain weight in his chest at the knowledge that the person to which the voice belonged to had existed, nearly devoid of human contact and interaction, for… almost a year. He wondered what life was like: the day to day walking along the sand, letting cold waves roll over his feet. Was it exciting to see the seagulls? Having only seagulls as friends… that didn’t sound exciting at all, did it?
“Mikan comes by sometimes, though, right? You’ve told me.”
“The two hours Mikan comes are always a pleasure! I didn't mean to make it sound like it was nothing at all- I don't even deserve to have someone like her visiting me-”
“N-no, it’s fine! I’m sure she doesn’t stay long it’s not that you’re ungrateful-”
“Hajime, I’m beyond grateful. That she comes by once every 3 months- my heart pounds with excitement every time! That she would find worth visiting someone like me-”
Hajime gulped, flipping through the last report Mikan had sent him. He knew she only had time to run the tests and leave, because she would apologize over the telephone to him constantly. He always told her not to worry, it was already so much for him to have asked her to do what she did. Nagito had no idea, but Hajime was so grateful for her too.
“Yeah. I’m sorry.” Hajime could practically see the raising of the other boy’s eyebrows, the surprised expression. He hadn't been a good friend. He relied too much on others, he asked way too much of them, and couldn't do enough for some of them. “We’ve been busy. There’s… just a lot to clean up.”
“Don’t worry, I understand! With all the hope and talent you all possess, of course, there’s no way I could even expect people like you to even step foot into Jabberwock Island again - you’d really waste away here! Oh, how could I even ask such a thing? Especially just to visit someone so lowly and worthless as me? I’d never ask for it! It’s the perfect place for me, though... somewhere so far away from the world, that even my luck couldn’t touch anyone! So no one can touch me-”
“Nagito…”
“- Hajime… how unlucky it would be, even for someone like me? For there to be no one here even as I took my dying breath.” Hajime felt his breath hitch, and he wondered if Nagito heard it as well, because his tone changed. “Just kidding. Of course I wouldn’t! My luck wouldn’t even allow death!” Frantic. “Besides, if this is the best something sinful like me could do, to spend my time looking after this island, then it’s a privilege just to serve the side of hope at all, right?”
...
It was just a dream. It was just a dream. People can't control dreams, and they never meant anything. That was what Hajime Hinata repeated to himself as he waited for glass to fill up with tap water. Sometimes, Nagito would appear in his dreams, with his bony hands and pale skin, in the same small, cramped room as him. Warm. Warm. Much warmer than it should have been. The water cooled his throat as it made its way down, but Hajime was still burning, and trying to shield his eyes from the judgement of the hotel room walls in disbelief. His whole body jolts as he hears the beep from within his pocket.
Is it Makoto?
His hand stops midway.
What if it’s Nagito?
It’s 3am. It was definitely Nagito. No one else was ungodly enough to call at this time.
What bad luck. A whine escapes his throat, as he shuffles his way back to the bedroom, and leans back against the headboard, willing himself to cool down. He didn’t particularly want to pick up the phone considering just minutes he’d just seen the other in certain situations without his permission, before waking to a breathy, uncomfortable sweat. He waits a while further until after the beeping stops. It beeps again, and Hajime relents with a shaky “H-hello?”
“Hajime!”
Hajime tried extra hard to act nonchalant, but Nagito was having the time of his life trying to decipher why he was so jittery today- what was this Hajime trying to play at? He starts off teasing, and teasing, probing questions, and outlandish scenarios Hajime could have been trapped in, with Hajime stammering out exclamations of “no!” to whether or not he was ill or kidnapped. After the list of probable scenarios decreased to an unbelievably small number, he hears a breathy exhale which makes the hair stand on the back of his neck.
“If that’s the case… you know, if you ever need anything, you could ask right? There’s nothing on this useless, decrepit body of mine that I wouldn’t give up for the sake of hope - for you - Hajime.” His voice is suddenly lower, there’s a lilt, and Hajime feels his jaw drop.
“Th-thanks?” is all he can work out, but he’s punching himself in the face immediately, that was not what he’d wanted to say. “B-but no thanks.” He adds a little too quickly. “What could I need from you, anyway? What are you-” god “-implying?” He’s trying to laugh it off casually, but they’re coming out fake.
Nagito laughs in return, and Hajime shifts uncomfortably, because they’re laughing at the same tune. “Oh- of course! It’s probably quite insulting to you, isn't it, for someone to offer such a useless and disgusting gift.” Hajime thinks he's made a mistake. “I couldn’t help but offer my worthless existence to the use of someone when I see the chance. I'm so sorry, I should really know my place next time.”
“I-” Hajime gulps. “It’s n-not like that.” Instant regret. “I-I just meant I’m fine. Don’t worry about me.” But his mind is swirling with questions.
“What did you mean by-”
“Anything.” Nagito finishes his sentence, and the texture of his voice is low and silken. He can't quite place the mood of the boy on the other side of the phone, and his breath is stuck in his lungs.
Hajime swallows but his throat is dry.
“Right.” Short, matter of fact. Cool and casual Hajime. “I’m not sure what you mean,” it comes out breathless, to his dismay, and he can see the eyebrow arch on the other end of the line. “I’ve… gotta go now.”
“Ok, bye, Hajime!” and there's a click, and a beep beep beep to the beating of Hajime's heart.
God .
The lull of Nagito’s voice travels lower and lower, past the heavy rise and falls of his chest. The heaviness of his lungs. Anything? He’s in disbelief. He couldn’t explain the sudden- god- sensation- oh surely, the boy couldn’t be that ridiculous.
Lower.
Lower.
If he didn’t have pride he would call this-
breathlessness-
panting-
Hajime can only swallow in disgust as he tries to wash every last trace of the shame from his hands, cursing himself.
...
Hajime wouldn't admit it, but every once in a while, when he was really tired, he’d fall asleep while talking to the familiar voice on the other end of the phone. Hajime could always identify the tinge of pride in the other’s voice as he picked up the phone the next day, apologised for being so boring.
...
There was one night that Nagito called, obviously breathless, voice quivering, a tinge of desperation in his voice- and before he knew it Hajime had automatically hung up- eyes wide, face flushed, and himself a little dizzy.
When Nagito called back a few seconds later, he apologised, voice more composed, and light-hearted -
“For trash like me to get ahead of themselves like this- wow! Ah, I’m so disgusting-”
Before Hajime could respond, the other boy quickly changed the topic about some new equipment he had apparently found, stored behind a vent in the supermarket, how it had probably been a murder plot that never took off. Hajime’s shoulders relaxed, and they had fun making conspiracies, now that it wasn’t their actual lives anymore.
Nagito then questioned why Hajime's room was the resting place of underwear from not only Hajime- “Wait, why were you in my room?!”- but two pairs of girls underwear along with Nagito's own, to which Hajime spiked anxiously, only able to quip that it wasn’t his fault if other people decided they wanted him to have it. There was a bit of an anxious shuffle after that one, and an “Are you a pervert, Hajime?” which left Hajime scrambling for explanations.
In the midst of frenzied‘I’m just a teenage boy, you know?!’s, incredulous‘you were the ones who gave them to me!’s and ‘not that I did anything anyway!’s a pure tone of laughter rang out which had Hajime speechless and beaten. Utterly destroyed. He wanted to curl up inside his blanket and never surface.
“Just f-forget it…”
Nagito laughed again, and Hajime was just about to hang up if not for the chorus of ‘Wait, Hajime- please!’ that came after.
...
“Do you miss anyone?”
Hajime paused, thinking. “Yeah. I guess. What about you?”
“Of course!” Nagito would always ask, and give the same response to the reply, but never probed deeper. It confused Hajime slightly, but he’d given up on trying to understand some of the other’s more peculiar quirks, anyway.
But it was, nonetheless, frustrating; because Hajime wasn’t really sure what question he was answering. Of course there were lots of people he missed. His parents, the rest of his friends, currently spread across the world trying to fix what they had created…
Scenes of the rampage and destruction they created across the world sprang up in his mind, and he bit his lip in shame. They had a lot to answer for. There’s suddenly a ping from his computer, and Hajime puts the phone down for a second, typing a few messages-
-and send.
“Oh- Nagito - have you checked the airport recently?”
The boy seemed hesitant to answer. “Why? Is there a problem?” a dark tone tainting the edges of his voice.
“It looks like- we received a signal disturbance near Jabberwock yesterday- did Makoto tell you? It’s closest to the airport.”
The other side of the line was quiet for a while, before a sigh. “Hajime, you know I’m not fond of airports… but I see. Well, if either Makoto or Hajime wants it, there’s no way I could possibly refuse, right?” Voice bright again, if a little forced.
“We’re not quite sure whether it really is trouble or not, because it was really brief- but I suppose- I’ll check it out when I get there, yeah?”
A gasp, a clatter, a bit of a quiver in his breath as the other boy scrambles to pick something up.
“If... that would be okay with you, of course?”
Another quiver, and Hajime feels the resolve strengthen in his chest.
...
Hajime can't help the way his heart thrums as he’s rocked along with the ship. He’s not usually nauseous on boats, but there’s definitely an excited fluttering in his stomach as the rays of sun got stronger and he knew he was nearly there. His fingers drum on the metal seat beside him, antsy with anticipation. He reaches up to loosen the tie currently strangling him.
God, there was no reason to be nervous.
He’s not quite sure what to expect, it’s been a year and all.
But they’d talked nearly every day for that.
It’d be a bit strange to see a face along with the voice he's so familiar with. It’d be harder to get away with the more embarrassing faces he makes every once in a while they get into an intimate conversation. He had an inkling Nagito knew he was soft- he wasn’t exactly good at hiding it, but he couldn't let him know he was the kind of soft where he’d cry at the end of romance movies, or when he’s kicked out of a girl’s-only baking party. He lets out a huff. That one had hurt.
He has his pride on the line.
He did care what Nagito thought, even though sometimes he really wished he didn't.
In the distance he can see a shadow of an island, and Hajime's already leaning over the side, trying to catch even a glimpse of tattered olive and white, but the pristine white sand and fresh green forests are proving to make it quite a challenge. A spray of sea splashes into his eye unexpectedly, and he gasps a bit at the burn, reaching up to wipe his eyes and losing his balance, doubling over the rails as it knocks the breath out of him. He’s staring at the rolling waves below that threaten to engulf him.
Sweat starts at the back of his neck, as he laughs nervously, thankful there was no one to watch the completely embarrassing display. Hajime had no idea why, but all of a sudden he’s collapsed on the floor, not even bothered to expend the energy to make the fall graceful, or register the pain. But even so, his nerves are jittery, and he’s a mix of both exhaustion and electricity. He realises he’s beyond anxious. His heart hasn’t stopped thrumming since earlier. He decides the best thing to do is to close his eyes, willing his body to calm, breathing deep rhythmic breaths, letting the warmth seep into his rough skin, feeling the ocean spray on his face.
He’s alerted to action by the squawking of seagulls overhead, with a jolt, managing to evade a thoughtful present just in time.
Well thank god, because he’s not about to see someone for the first time in a year dressed in bird droppings. Lucky him. It’s only after sitting up that he realises he can spot the a figure sitting on the sandy shore, a bit away from the docks. It’s only after he sits up that the person seems to notice him as well now that he’s not obscured by the sides of the boat, stretching out from his hunched position and making to stand.
Hajime’s breath stops, scrambling to get up and raising an arm high in the air, like an honors student racing to get the attention of the teacher. He’s… not sure why the figure seems to turn his messy head to the left, and the right, before giving a muted wave.
Hajime lowers his hand, a sudden worry settling in and-
Is he not that excited to see me? Had he gotten complacent about...
No. Hajime grits his teeth, the past year running through his head. There was nothing to be worried about.
The boat hasn’t even stopped when he hops off the front of the ship, nearly stumbling over on the dock and face-planting into the planks.
“Hey, watch it!” a burly voice shouts down from the ship, and Hajime feels an embarrassed twinge in his chest.
“Sorry!” Hajime shouts back to the captain who is rolling his eyes, giving a thumbs up to him to signal that he can leave. In the process, lady luck seems to be shining down upon him, because one of the final planks he steps on is loose, clipping through and tripping him; he finds himself flung forward, face-first and ass-up in the fine sand.
“Ha-Hajime?!”
He hears in the distance, and his heart drops as the footsteps pick up. When he manages to blink the sandy tears out of his eyes, he’s looking up at a concerned looking boy, crouched over him with his hands on his knees.
“You’re all scratched up, Hajime. You should be more careful.” Nagito laughs. “Your existence is actually valuable, unlike mine.” Hajime could recognise that voice from anywhere, a voice he’s heard night and night again on their hour long phone calls. And when he takes Nagito's hand, currently reached out in front of him to help him up, the other’s features light up in pleasant surprise.
They’ve gone a long way since that first time on the island, where he found himself swatting the hand away and telling him to leave.
Pulling him up, the momentum bumps their shoulders together- leaving him breathless- before Hajime can steady himself, and they’re there in awkward handshake, eyes wide, staring each other in the face, letting it sink in.
“Welcome back.” Nagito says, eyes closed brightly, features gently crinkled into a pleasant smile, one familiar enough to drag Hajime back to the first day on the island.
“Glad to be back.” Hajime says with a curt nod, genuine smile creeping up to his own face, surprised at how easily his own words slip out, and just how comfortable he was back at the setting where so much had taken place.