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Sometimes, when the sweet lull of waves sang him to sleep, and when he was meant to be having dreams of hope and talent and no despair, he instead had dreams that were less like dreams and more like memories. In fact, he was sure that they were memories, ones forgotten or at least buried deep within his mind that his subconscious had somehow dug back up.
He dreams of fire and screams. A cold hand in his and the arm of a chair being crushed by his other. He almost thinks that he is dead, like his mother next to him. Like his father next to her. He almost expects for the whole world to go dark and for the clouds to gather and unleash a hearty gush of rain, but real life isn’t like it is in cartoons, and the sun still rests in the sky, safe and smiling and so bright that Komaeda almost can’t tell the difference between it and the fire around him.
There’s water around his feet, and he can only watch as it slowly rises up to his ankles, lapping gently, as if caressing him. He gets angry at the water, because caressing him was his mother’s job, because she was the only person who would do that to him and the only person who probably ever will. But the water doesn’t stop, and the cold hand around his reassures him that his mother isn’t coming back, that she was as dead as she was alive a few minutes prior.
Komaeda isn’t angry anymore, and let’s his hand slip out from underneath his mother’s. The screams have gone now, and although he should, he probably couldn’t care less about the other passengers. They couldn’t help him if they were dead, just like his mother couldn’t caress him if she were dead, which she was. He let his legs swing back and forth, moving the water around them, and he vaguely thinks that his clothes will be wet after this anyway, so there’s no use in trying to keep them dry.
The plane shifts and buckles slightly, and suddenly the water is filling up faster than before, so Komaeda gets out of his seat and starts walking towards the back of the back of the plane, where there is less water and a large hole where the evacuation door used to be. But then he stops and goes back, because the rock that fell from the sky was very pretty, even though it killed his parents and many other passengers. It was from space and that was exciting to Komaeda because space was somewhere that filled people with hope, and only talented people had been up there before.
Komaeda ventures back into the water, which could reach up to his chest now, but completely submerged where the front of the plane was. Various items float carelessly around him, and he pauses, because this water was very cold up to his chest, and he was worried he’d catch a cold if he didn’t get back out soon, and there was no one to take care of him if he did catch one because both his mother and father were dead which meant he’d have to care for himself.
As tempting as it was to retrieve the space rock, he decided against it. It was better to watch humanity’s talented spread hope rather than obtain one item which represented it. Besides, he thought, it would be no good since the rock had killed people, which would likely just inspire despair instead of hope. So he went back.
He looked outside the hole and all he could see for miles and miles was deep blue sea, and as much as it was beautiful, it was also worrisome since the closest piece of land was likely nowhere near where he was. This was why he despised family trips, as they always ended up with some kind of disaster occurring. It was just his luck that something like this would happen, he thought.
There was a large piece of debris from the crash drifting outside which he spotted. It was just the right size for him and some essential items, he deduced, and began trying to climb on the outside of the plane to get over to it. It seemed that there were a lot of survival essentials around the debris as well, so he would have no problem surviving for a few days if it came to it.
It was a few days after that, when the debris he’d taken refuge on had drifted somewhere close enough to land for a boat to come by and pick him up, that he had made his way to land in. He found himself in Japan again, and with quite a large sum of inheritance. Komaeda prayed for his parents and began his search for a house. He had survived to observe the rise of a true hope, and that was exactly what he’d do.
Nagito woke with a shiver; cold, thick sweat claiming his skin as well as his bedsheets, and it seemed that he wasn’t going to get to sleep again that night. The waves outside were less like a lull and more like mocking him by now, and he couldn’t stand it. He threw off his covers and headed straight for the shower, feeling grimy both physically and emotionally.
Cold water running over his skin seemed to help somewhat, and as it washed away the sweat and fluids over his body, he found his mind wondering back to his dream. It was, indeed, a memory, but he wondered why it was something he was being reminded of now. It didn’t particularly matter, but he still found it strange.
The water stopped without a stutter, and after he’d changed into somewhat acceptable clothes, he went outside. Despite being on a tropical island, the air was surprisingly bitter at night, and Nagito almost regretted leaving his hoodie back in his cottage. He wandered for a while, from the beach to the library, and his mind briefly commented on how pretty the stars looked from the island, considering there was no light pollution there and it was empty save for the ex-students.
Before he knew it, he found himself at Hinata’s door, knocking loudly but not loud enough to wake the others. He didn’t know why he went to Hinata’s cottage out of everyone else’s, but finally settled with it since anyone else would most likely tell him to get lost. At least Hinata was kind enough to endure his presence for at least a short while.
He heard a dull thud from inside, along with a muttered curse, and had to stifle his chuckle in case he was lectured on his lack of consideration later. He waited with little patience, and even considered going back to his own cottage at least twice, but sure enough after a few dozen seconds, the door opened, revealing a rather dishevelled-looking Hajime Hinata.
He looked like he’d just been woken from the best dream ever, judging from the glare that was shot at Nagito, paired with the hastily equipped shirt (which was on backwards, but he wouldn’t say anything... yet.).
“A-Ah. Hinata-san, well you see I couldn’t get to sleep so I though that I could confide in you for a while to make me feel a little better and-“ Nagito was cut off from his no-doubt unending rant. He was getting better about thinking for himself, rather than as if he was lower than dirt, and although he hadn’t progressed that much, he’d at least been getting better about asking for things that he wanted himself.
“Hajime, Nagito. I’ve told you at least two dozen times to call me Hajime. Look, just come inside.” Hajime stepped to the side of where he held the door wide open, a clear welcome for Nagito to come inside. His voice cracked a bit when he spoke, likely because he’d just woken up, but it still seemed to soften after hearing that Nagito needed some comforting. Deep in his mind, he seemed to recall that Hajime always spoke a touch softer to him, though he wasn’t quite sure why, himself.
Hajime’s cottage gave off a wholesome vibe of just “home”, and Nagito couldn’t help but relax a bit in this new environment, it wasn’t until then that he noticed just how tense he’d been on his own. Hajime closed the door quietly behind him and made his way over to the sofa which now stretched to the other wall where the toilet and shower were behind. Unlike in the Neo World Program, the real world luckily didn’t contain a Monokuma stand, nor its objects, which also meant that Hajime had a little more space to fill up his cottage with.
Nagito followed, quietly adjusting to the warmer temperature of the room compared to the early morning air. He sat down next to Hajime, but not too close, as he wasn’t sure whether he’d be okay with it or not. Either way, it didn’t make any difference, because Hajime himself shuffled along until their shoulders were nearly touching anyway, and despite himself Nagito found his face growing slightly warmer.
“So what was the dream about?” Hajime asked, staring with one green and one red eye intently into Nagito’s own grey hues. Hajime seemed more awake than he was before, if the way that his eyes focused was anything to go by.
“How did you know?” He asked back, not all that surprised but still slightly shocked at how Hajime could tell so fast. Hajime just smiled and chuckled slightly, and it was a sound which made Nagito’s heart beat just a little faster.
“Nagito, you wouldn’t be coming to my house at 2am if you weren’t woken up by something, so I’m assuming that my guess was correct?” Hajime grinned. The confirmation was left unsaid, and Nagito had to tear his eyes from Hajime’s to stare at the short coffee table before him before talking about anything he just remembered.
“Just...” a pause, “memories.” Nagito sighed, breathed in deeply again. Hajime leaned back and stared at the ceiling, deep in thought.
“About before or about your before?” They refused to mention the Neo World Program, as much as it was just a couple of harmless words, for some residents it could bring up unwanted memories, so for safety’s sake most just called it “before”. Nagito nodded to himself, or maybe for Hajime, he wasn’t quite sure.
“My before.” He replied, throat too dry and eyes too wet. “About when the plane crashed, and about how I survived. God, I was such a little asshole back then”. Nagito looked at Hajime when he said that and chuckled slightly. Hajime managed to smile, but Nagito could tell it was forced. “I left all of them, Hajime. I just left them to die when some could probably have been saved I-“ he was cut off by a sudden sob. When had he started crying, he wondered.
It was when he felt arms around him, strong and comforting and warm, that he just let it all out. He didn’t know how long he was crying for, but he could faintly feel Hajime stroking his hair and whispering soft, kind nothings to him. He knew it wasn’t something he should cry over. It was stupid and it was him, but the him then wasn’t the him now, which meant that the him now could still feel guilt for something he had done in the past.
Hajime left for a short while, and soon returned with a full glass of water which he pushed gently into Nagito’s hands. He drank it as he slowly calmed down. One of Hajime’s hands was still wrapped around his shoulder, but Nagito didn’t mind he comfort. He was glad he came to Hajime’s cottage, as it was probably best he let it all out with someone he could trust there with him.
When he had finally calmed down, Nagito looked at Hajime, who wore the sweetest, most loving expression anyone had ever given him before. Nagito’s heart pounded in his head and he just really wanted to say something, to do something. Hajime, rather abruptly, stood up and put the now empty glass back by the sink. Nagito admired how he treated everyone with such kindness, and it was probably one of the reasons why Nagito considered Hajime his best friend (despite never even having had a normal friend before).
“Are you feeling a bit better now?” Hajime asked softly as he re-entered the room from the bathroom. He sat down once again next to him and put his hand atop Nagito’s own, who blushed slightly.
“B-Better.” Nagito stuttered a reply, still slightly hiccupy. Hajime smiled and his face went red slightly. Nagito thought he looked as if he were about to cry himself, and he leaned forward to put a hand on his forehead. Hajime jolted a little and went more red than he was before.
“Hajime, are you ok-?” Nagito had taken his hand off of the other’s forehead and was gazing rather concerned at Hajime, when he suddenly felt warm lips upon his own. They were soft and slightly dry, but they were Hajime’s indeed, he thought. Hajime pulled back after a few seconds, exasperatedly looking.
“Nagito I like you” he said, eyes not moving from Nagito’s grey ones. He was frozen, and he wasn’t sure whether it was because of shock or because he was still processing it all, but he felt very warm and very happy.
“Nagito?” Hajime snapped him out of his staring and he simply nodded, slowly at first and then getting faster.
“Yea-Yeah! I l-like Hajime too. He makes me feel warm and he is nice to me and I r-really really like him!” Nagito leant forward a bit more until their lips clashed once more.
Nagito had forgotten all about his bad memory by then, and Hajime had forgotten all about the fact that it was currently around 2am and he was the one who probably wasn’t going to get any more sleep because he was kissing his crush.
After they ran out of breath, they simply hugged for a while, warm and happy together. Nagito had never felt this happy before, and he was even happier that Hajime was the one who had prompted this happiness.
“Do you wanna stay here tonight?” Hajime asked, quietly. Nagito nodded as his eyes fluttered closed. And as they were just about to fall asleep on each other, Nagito muttered:
“Your shirt’s on inside-out”