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He wasn’t sure what led him to be sitting on an uncomfortable bleacher watching the school’s sports festival basketball game. He’s never cared much for sports, but maybe he couldn’t deny an opportunity to see members of Hope’s Peak Academy shine on the court. Or maybe he couldn’t resist seeing how a meritless reserve course student would fare as a replacement team member, pitted against a crew of athletes brimming with hope. Regardless, here he was, slightly uncomfortable and trying not to flinch from the overpowering sounds of a rowdy crowd, blaring horns, and his boisterous classmates he sat next to.
While he tried to follow the bouncing of the orange ball, his eyes kept leading astray towards the reserve course student yet again. Hinata, after all, was the one who directly invited him to watch the game. Perhaps he was trying to prove himself, Komaeda mused, and show that he could keep up with the more talented players. It was a futile effort, but like a trainwreck Komaeda couldn’t peel his eyes away from. Especially how Hinata’s shirt would flare up, exposing his midriff. Or how he would miss a free throw, with his strong, untalented, tanned arms. Or how his basketball shorts clung tightly to his sweaty thighs.
It was hot in here, right?
His relationship with Hinata was nothing but complicated. They ate lunch together on a number of occasions, and while Hinata primarily spoke to his other classmates, like Souda and Nanami, sometimes just the two of them would eat their bentos in front of the fountain dividing the main and reserve course campuses. While they bickered constantly, it never stopped them from planning to meet again for lunch later in the week. Sometimes, even, after a particularly nasty brawl, Hinata would creep his hand towards Komaeda’s, and interlace them. On a handful of occasions, one of them has been reckless enough to pull the other in a brief kiss, breaking apart so fast one would miss it if they blinked, and leaving no gap of time for either of them to ruminate on the dangerous boundaries of intimacy they tiptoed. It was easier that way, to avoid thinking about it.
But Hinata, despite being a good-for-nothing reserve course student, was an enigma who incessantly occupied Komaeda’s brain, and made his chest burn warm with relentless embers.
He gets lost in daydreams of feeling Hinata’s strong arms wrapped around him when the final buzzer sounds off, signifying the end of the game.
Hinata’s team won, and with the rest of the group they cheer and share a bout of high-fives, Hinata himself earning a few gleeful slaps on the back. Hinata grins in a way that makes his entire face shine with glimmering hope.
Komaeda isn’t entirely sure of his own motives when he waits for Hinata outside of the locker room. He faded easily into the backdrop of the scene, other students paying him no mind as they chatted, laughed together, exiting the gym. He mused that sometimes, being an unremarkable nobody could be used in his favor.
When it seems like most of the students have trailed their way out of the gym, he slips into the locker room, where he finds Hinata and a few other students still cooling off.
“I’m sure my lost gym shorts are somewhere in here!” He announces, very inconspicuously. Hinata gawks at him but quickly turns away, pretending not to notice Komaeda flitting around the lockers. Despite his occasional dense and stubborn nature, it appears Hinata picked up the hint, taking his time and waiting out for the other team members to finally exit the room.
He moved on instinct, drawing closer to Hinata, until the other had his back pressed against the cool steel of his locker. “Good job, reserve student! I’m surprised at how well you kept up with the team.” He presses his lips into Hinata’s, fleetingly, because Komaeda rations that Hinata might deserve a reward for performing so well despite the odds.
“Hey..” Hinata says, blushing with embarrassed heat. His eyes twitch nervously to the locker room entrance, and Komaeda can feel his body tense against him. “Aren’t you worried if someone sees us?”
“Why,” He lilts with a coy smile, “Are you ashamed of dirtying your hands with someone like me?”
“D-dirtying- No! Geez, what are you even saying…” Hinata grumbles, raking a disgruntled hand through his sweaty bangs. “Besides, I thought you would be embarrassed to be seen with me... Since I’m a reserve student...” He notices Hinata’s olive green eyes flicker away from his for second, casting a downwards glance towards the floor. Normally he’d jump upon this moment, elate in the fact that Hinata is finally showing a bit humility in the face of an Ultimate, even a pathetic one like himself - but something doesn’t feel quite right about pouncing upon this opportunity. The thought of it turns a sharp feeling in his stomach, butterflies morphing into painful strings, and he doesn’t really understand why.
Komaeda licks his lips, notices how Hinata’s eyes flick up and stares at his mouth. “Why don’t we go back to my dorm then?” He laughs nervously.
“The Ultimate dorms?” Hinata balks, “You know I can’t go there.”
“With my luck, I doubt we’d get caught.” Komaeda muses, and he knows his luck isn’t as simple as that, but his Dr. Hopper exploded in his face during lunch today, so it might even out.
Hinata blinks at him once, twice, and then rubs the back of his neck. “I should probably get showered first.”
“Yes.” He concedes, because while watching Hinata get sweaty and exert himself during the game was undeniably alluring from a distance, he did just wash his bedsheets yesterday.
Hinata has a strange look on his face. Komaeda isn’t really sure how to process the beat of silence that’s overcome them, so he winds a strand of hair around his finger, tries to muffle another anxious laugh and bites his lip. Tries not to yank his hair out. “Okay.” Hinata finally concedes, grabbing a towel, and leaving Komaeda alone in the locker room.
It feels unreal to Komaeda that this is happening, that he’s really bringing Hinata Hajime back to his dorm , to be together in private .
----
Just as planned, there are no security guards in sight, or other Hope’s Peak students lingering around outside of the dorm building to spot Komaeda smuggle Hinata inside.
Komaeda practically jams the key trying to open the door to his room with eager energy.
Entering into the wide space, Hinata’s jaw drops with awe. “This is huge!”
“Your room isn’t this size?” He shuts the door behind them, trying to feign a cool and disinterested energy.
Hinata snorts. “Maybe, like, half.” He flops onto Komaeda’s bed, arms sprawled above his head. “Wow, this is really comfy, too. My mattress is like a brick compared to this.”
“You think so? Compared to my bed at home, I always thought this was rather uncomfortable.”
“Must be nice to live in the lap of luxury.”
Komaeda wants to tell him that there’s nothing nice about his existence, but has a rare moment of restraint to press his lips together. He would hate to break the mood gradually building between them.
Instead, he offers a lighthearted laugh. “Your sheets don’t have a thread count over 1,000?”
“Shut up,” Hinata grumbles at him, but underneath the snark Komaeda can see the slightest hint of a crooked smile. There’s something about it that’s insufferably endearing.
Komaeda feels himself moving closer to the bed and climbing next to Hinata, rather than consciously deciding to do so, and suddenly they’re face to face. Wide olive green eyes meet his, and Komaeda is conflicted from trying to decipher if the color is bland or the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, the color of earth and life.
When they kiss, it feels like a greater victory than his team’s success at the basketball game.
He desperately just wants to keep indulging in the feeling, falling back into the feeling of letting his body move with the motions of this love without thinking, but Hinata breaks them apart. The distress playing across his face sends a different kind of nervous energy through Komaeda’s spine.
“What are we?” Hinata asks quietly. “I mean... What does this mean. For us , I guess.”
It feels like time slows, sluggish and nauseating.
“Do you-” Stop it. “Do you really think-” Please, stop it. “That someone from the worthless reserve course -” Fucking stop it. “Could date someone from the actual academy? I may be the lowest of the Ultimates, but you’re still barely worth my time.”
Disbelief, sadness, and rage swirl within Hinata’s eyes. “So was this all just... Messing around to you? Fucking nothing then?”
“What led you to believe that it was something ? What kind of deduction process brought you to that brilliant conclusion?”
“You were the one who invited me here!” Hinata sputtered. “I thought...”
“What?” Don’t. “That I... Cared for you?”
It scares him how Hinata’s face drops in blank resignation. How easily these terrible words spill out of his mouth. “Fuck you. Whatever.”
Hinata rips himself out of the bed, exiting the room and slamming the door, leaving a trail of festering rejection in his wake.
The bed feels empty and cold, suffocating any of the remaining warmth left in the room. Komaeda doesn’t know what else he expected.
A week later, Hinata has been notably absent from lunchtime breaks, leaving no word to any of his main course friends. On the tenth lunchtime without Hinata-kun’s presence, he eats his bento in silence next to Nanami, who’s deeply engrossed in a game on a handheld console.
Right when he thinks she might not notice if he were to slip away and sulk by himself, she starts to speak. “Hey, Komaeda-kun…” Nanami doesn’t pause playing her game, just continues to press buttons at a dizzying speed while speaking to him, pink nail polish against dark chrome. “Where’s Hinata-kun?”
The question stings, and he’s thankful she isn’t making eye contact with him. “How should I know?”
She frowns at his retort, but doesn’t break her rhythm of attacks against a virtual foe. Komaeda tries to distract himself by watching her avatar swing menacing dual swords at a boss monster. “Hinata-kun hasn’t been coming to lunch recently… Did you two get into a fight?”
“I only said what he needed to hear.” He says, trying to convince both her and himself. “He should know his place.”
“You should be nicer to him… I think.” Her drowsy voice mumbles, trailing off until Komaeda notices a bright K.O. flashing on her screen. Having vanquished the monster, she finally looks at Komaeda directly, dusty pink irises shaded by her pale fringe. “Hinata-kun is a good person. He’s been a good friend to all of us. You, too. When you used to eat lunch alone, he would usually try to talk to you, right? So that’s why…. You should probably make-up with him.”
“What am I supposed to say to him?” Social interactions have never been his strong suit, let alone conflict resolution. In fact, he seemed to have a perchance for making literally any conversation he injected himself into worse, like a corrupting poison, corroding all of the relationships around him. It reminded Komaeda why he wanted to keep his distance from Hinata in the first place. “I meant what I said.” I hate myself for it .
Nanami’s pondering expression dissolves into defeat. “I don’t really know what you should say...” She pouts, crossing her arms. “I always choose the wrong dialogue options in dating sims.”
He leaves lunch feeling even more conflicted than before.
----
When he takes a walk later that evening, he tells himself it’s just by coincidence that he lands in front of the reserve course dorms. Of course, it’s a bit less coincidental that he has Hinata’s room number written on a piece of paper crunched in his hand. Finding a dropped file by a school residence administrator was nothing short of extremely lucky.
The building itself is a stark grey, contrasting with the welcoming brickwork of the Hope’s Peak main campus. The windows are small, almost like slits, restrictive of any natural light. Like the main campus, the front door requires and ID swipe for access, but it doesn’t take Komaeda long to push open a back door left unlocked. Despite the money the reserve course costs in tuition, Komaeda figures most of it must not go towards facilities or security.
He checks the number on the note with the number on the door once, twice, a third time, until he finally dredges up the confidence to land a knocking fist against the door. He can hear a chair scrape against the floor from inside, casually noting the thinness of the walls, and shuffling towards the door. Then, he’s greeted with a bleary-eyed Hinata, piles of textbooks and papers lining the desk behind him.
“Good evening, Hinata-kun.” He smiles, trying to swallow the shame in his throat.
Hinata radiates a blend of impatience and distrust. “Why are you here?”
“I wanted to talk.”
“Not interested.” Hinata moves to shut the door, but is blocked with the side of Komaeda’s designer shoes. Komaeda tries not to flinch thinking about the scratches that might be left on the leather after this, but it would be a casualty taken in stride if he could make this right.
“And I also wanted to offer my apologies.”
Hinata’s eyes narrow, and rakes his fingers through his spiked hair again. It’s a nervous tic that Komaeda has familiarized himself with, and realizing that makes his head spin “... Whatever,” Hinata finally amends, moving away from the door. Komaeda rocks anxiously on his feet, looming in the threshold of the cramped room. “You don’t have to just stand there. You can sit.”
Stepping inside, Hinata’s dorm feels claustrophobic, like the walls are slowly compressing him with building pressure. It does nothing to help the situation. “I offended you,” Komaeda starts, sitting on the bed. “And I wanted to extend my apologies.”
Hinata sits back in his desk chair, and his wider frame looks disproportionate in the small room. Almost as if the walls are restraining his form, his light. “I’m surprised you thought a worthless reserve course student was worth apologizing to. I thought I was barely worth your time .”
Komaeda bites his lip. “I was unnecessarily cruel to you. I’m sorry.”
“I really don’t get you sometimes,” Hinata sighs.
He knows what he wants to say, but he doesn’t know if it’s okay to say it. One wrong step and they’ll plummet over the edge of acceptable contact and into a range of where his capricious luck might designate Hinata as a target. But by stepping away from the ledge… Isn’t it hurting Hinata just the same? The dilemma squeezes the air from his chest.
He knows, deep down, what he needs to do to make things right. Seeing Hinata in a state of distress is haunting him in a way he doesn’t think he can live comfortably with.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” He adds quietly. “But if I’m not mindful of my luck, it will wound you even worse. I couldn’t live with myself if something were to happen to you because of me.” Hinata sharply inhales, and looks at him with a gaze that makes him feel vivisected and vulnerable. “I understand if you don’t forgive me,” Komaeda continues, “I would understand if you hated me, too. There are lots of reasons to hate me-” but he’s cut off when Hinata’s lips come crashing into his, a palm roughly entangling into his hair, holding him still.
“Oh,” he breathes.
“I don’t hate you,” Hinata murmurs to him, lips catching against Komaeda’s.
“Oh,” he sighs again, feeling himself wind up against Hinata’s steady touch, wanting to spring into his embrace, and collides against his lips again with equal force.
When they finally part, Komaeda again face to face with Hinata, draped next to each other. The proximity, filling each other’s space, contained by the too hard bed and too small walls starts to feel almost comforting. “Can we stay like this? Just for a little while.”
Maybe they don’t need to use words. Maybe they can express themselves without crossing any lines or falling over the edge, but just appreciate the comfortable and still moments between one another. For now, this could be enough.
Hinata finally smiles, intertwining their hands. “For as long as you’d like.”