Archive of Our Own

People are boring.

This statement includes Nagito Komaeda. Nagito is predictable; boring.

That is the thought I had today as I rode the public bus home.

I had this thought due to history class. Earlier today, the teacher assigned us a presentation to prepare; the assignment was to be worked in pairs. Predictably, once everyone had paired up, Nagito and I were the only ones left behind; the two outcasts of the class.

For a brief moment, I had wondered whether Nagito would treat me differently than the others have. After all, he is shunned by our classmates, just as I am.

But when we spent a few minutes speaking with each other—exchanging contact information and arranging to meet after school—I could tell he was tense. Jittery. Frightened of me, just as everyone else is.

How boring.

The next day, after my first meeting with Nagito for the presentation, I can say that working with him went exactly as I expected.

I take some time to reflect on it: we met up at the school library, after class. We rented a study room; it was the last one available.

Nagito was still frightened of me. As we worked, I could see the way he shook; the light sweat that broke upon his skin; his inability to maintain eye contact with me.

At some point, I offered to handle the entire project myself. I could complete it faster on my own, and save us both the trouble of forcing ourselves to meet each other regularly.

He turned down my offer. He spent a great deal of time berating himself in his denial, but I understood the basic point he was trying to make: he tied his own self worth to being able to contribute to this project.

It was a predictable response, considering the type of person he is. I did not find it likely that he would take my offer, though it was still worth a try.

All the same, I was annoyed by his rejection.

… Aside from that, working with Nagito was not awful. We both worked through our own stacks of books, taking notes and discussing our project. When he was actually focused on the presentation, Nagito could be quite reliable. He produced good work in our meeting together.

Now, we are finished for the day. It is late afternoon, the sidewalks are lined with snow from yesterday, and we are both dressed in layers and heavy coats. Currently, we are walking to my bus stop together, our breaths coming out in puffs of white, and we are still discussing the details of our project.

… Well, perhaps it would be accurate to say that Nagito is doing most of the talking. And unlike earlier, the points he is raising seem rather trivial. Still, I understand that some people organize their thoughts by talking about them. In the interest of helping him, I nod along to his words.

Soon, we reach my bus stop and take a seat. The conversation winds down.

We are silent.

Nagito seems to be focused on something distant. I follow his gaze; it takes me a few moments, but I find what it is that has his attention.

Sitting on a bench across the street is a young couple, cuddling.

When I turn back, I see Nagito staring at me, wide-eyed and flushed. Of course—Nagito is sharp; he knows that I found what he was looking at.

“Um-!” he stammers.

“You were staring at that couple,” I state.

“U-uh… yeah. They look happy, don’t they?” His blush deepens and he turns his gaze to his shoes. “Like something out of a movie.”

I take another quick glance at the couple. They are smiling, huddled together, basking in the late afternoon light. Their bench is framed with white piles of snow, and behind them are quaint storefronts decorated with tinsel, wreaths, and Christmas lights.

“Mm,” I say in agreement, turning back to Nagito; they do appear picturesque.

“Ha, ha… yeah…” And again, his face reddens, and he looks down at his shoes. “It looks nice, doesn’t it?”

…

… I agree with that too. So much media, and so many people, describe the joys of physical intimacy. And just as it is with the couple sitting across the street from us—when I see people partake in such intimacy, they appear to be enjoying themselves.

Thus, I would be interested in trying it sometime.

… In fact, could I not try it now?

“Hey Nagito,” I say, turning back to him. Once I have his attention, I nod my head towards the couple across the street. “Would you like to do that?”

“H-ha ha… well… who wouldn’t?” His smile is sheepish.

“I meant here. Now.”

His smile drops, and his eyes go wide. “You… I… why?”

I shrug a shoulder. “Why not?”

He opens his mouth to reply, but no words come out. After several long moments, he closes his mouth, nods, and slides closer to me.

I hold my arm out as he curls against my chest, and then wrap that arm around his shoulder. I try to look down at him, but one of his wavy locks of hair pokes my nose, so I decide to stare ahead instead. He feels stiff and still under my arm, and with all the layers we are both wearing, it hardly feels like the bulky weight resting against me is a human being.

We sit like this. It is quiet.

… And now I can finally say that I have experienced it: this is cuddling.

We stay like this for nearly ten minutes, until the bus comes. The moment he notices the bus arrive, Nagito jolts away from me, panicked. He turns those panicked eyes to me and blurts, “that’s your bus, isn’t it? I shouldn’t keep you! I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I nod. “See you.”

He hurries away from the bus stop while a few passengers get off; shortly after, I board.

As I ride home, I think about my experience with cuddling. It was quiet, which was nice. But it was awkward to have someone else lean against me like that, and the physical closeness to another person was uncomfortable.

Most of all, it was incredibly uneventful.

I am glad that I got to try it. But overall, I would say that cuddling is boring.

The next day, we meet up at the library after school again. We are nearly unable to book a study room this time. By a stroke of luck, just as the receptionist was in the middle of explaining that all the rooms were booked, one of them freed up unexpectedly.

We get settled in the room, and continue to work on our presentation. Nagito appears even more panicked than he did yesterday, which is odd; since I have not harmed or threatened him, it doesn't make sense that he would become more scared.

Perhaps my initial assessment that he is scared was incorrect. If that is the case… then I am unsure why he seems so anxious around me.

In any case; despite Nagito’s lack of focus, we are able to complete more work.

Again, he walks with me to my bus stop afterward. Again, he chatters incessantly while I nod along. This time, though, he does not discuss our history presentation; instead, he brings up our classmates, the latest movie releases, and current events. This time, his chatter seems much more scattered and trivial.

When we sit down, I realize that he has no reason to follow me here. To be more specific: he did not take the bus yesterday, and I have never seen him take it in the past. It is unlikely he will take it today.

“Um… I… Izu…” Nagito’s face is quite red again; perhaps he is more sensitive to the cold. He tries to maintain eye contact with me, but his eyes continuously dart to the side. He tries to say my name, but is unable to.

“What?” I ask.

“Um… I know this is… I know I’m a pile of filthy garbage, and my mind is full of disgusting thoughts. Actually… I probably shouldn’t even tell you this! Even hearing about this will sully your mind… even a long shower can’t wash a filthy thought out of your head…” A pause. “Ah! But I just can’t keep it to myself… I’m awful. Disgusting. Absolutely…”

He continues to ramble on about his worthlessness and dirtiness. As he speaks, he holds up his right hand, open palm facing upward, while his eyes glaze over and he faces downward, wearing a smile I would describe as bitter. He forms this posture while rambling quite often, and I recognize it right away; he will continue droning on for a while, with little regard to his environment or the reactions of his audience.

Normally I don’t care when he does this, and I would let him ramble if he wished. However, this time, it seemed as though he had an inquiry for me, and my bus will be arriving shortly. I would prefer to answer his inquiry before leaving if I can.

“Nagito,” I say. It is enough to snap him out of his rambling, and he glances back at me, with eyes clear and alert. “What is it that you would like to tell me?”

“W-well… it’s… I know I’m disgus—”

“We do not have a lot of time.”

“Right! Um… Can… can we cuddle again?” He blurts the question out so quickly, it almost sounds like a single word.

I am shocked.

For a moment, I’m looking back at Nagito with wide eyes.

Then my thoughts pick up again, and my face relaxes once more. I am surprised that he would want to cuddle again, considering how boring it was when we did it yesterday. “Why?” I ask.

“Ah… well…” His red face become even redder. “... why not?”

Heh. Nagito is clever; I can appreciate that.

I don’t have much else to do while I wait for my bus. So I nod and answer, “Okay.” Then I hold my arm out for him again, just as yesterday, and again, he slides into place.

The way his weight rests against me… I think he’s more relaxed this time. I tilt my head down—this time careful not to tickle my nose—and observe. Most of my vision is filled with his white, wavy hair. Beyond his fringe, I can see the ridges of his forehead and nose, but can’t make out his face clearly.

I remember the couple from yesterday, and every picture, movie, and show that depicted people cuddling. That imagery always involved both people smiling. Is Nagito smiling now as well? Most likely, he is.

I do not understand why he wants to cuddle with me again. I consider asking him, but decide not to; I am enjoying the quiet. I can ask him about this later.

We remain like this until my bus arrives, and once again, we part ways.

It is odd that Nagito wanted to cuddle with me again.

The next day, we meet up at the library after school again.

We are unable to book a study room. It would seem that our luck ran out.

It can’t be helped; I invite Nagito to my house. My bedroom would be a suitable place to work.

He becomes visibly more nervous at my invitation, and once again, has difficulties getting to the point when he answers. Eventually, however, he agrees.

We ride the bus together and head straight for my room when we arrive home; I keep the door closed. No one is home now, but I would prefer to work uninterrupted, in the case that one of my parents arrives early.

We remove our coats and extra layers of clothes; it is quite warm at home. I pull up an extra chair and folding table for Nagito, before taking a seat at my desk. With that, we resume work on our presentation.

As we work, once again, Nagito appears to be very nervous.

…

… Incredibly nervous. More so than I have ever seen from him before.

…

…

… I would prefer it if he weren’t nervous.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

“Ah!” He jolts, surprised, before looking up to me. He attempts to wear a casual smile. “It’s nothing.”

“You seem nervous.”

“I’m fine! Really! You don’t have to worry about me.”

It is completely obvious that he’s lying. I am not sure that I will be able to get him to answer me honestly.

But I would still like to ease his nervousness, if I can. I think about the times he seemed most at ease, and thus, my next suggestion is the obvious choice: “Would you like to cuddle?”

“Uh-!” squeaks out of his throat. “C—Cu—” he looks about the room, wildly, before facing me again. “H-here? In your room?”

“Is there a problem with doing that here?”

“No! Wait... I mean…” He thinks his answer over, still nervous. Then, suddenly, his shoulders slump, and he smiles at me. I cannot pinpoint the exact emotion behind that smile, but I find it to be pleasant. “Okay.”

It is difficult to cuddle in separate chairs, so we move to my bed. Nagito seems hesitant to do this, but otherwise offers surprisingly little resistance. I hold my arm out for him, and he slides into place—

Warm. Warm, warm, warm. And close. Very close.

I am aware of my heartbeat.

It is different like this.

The privacy of my room. The heated indoor air.

His slender arm under my hand. His chest pressing against me with every breath. His warmth.

The sight of his pale neck, which looks so delicate. So pretty. I wonder if he would let me touch it.

Instead, I decide to nuzzle my face against his head; he hums with contentment.

Why didn’t I try this before? It’s soft and warm.

I let my eyes slip shut as I take in the feeling. It’s very… human.

It is a silly way to describe the feeling, but most accurate. I am not working on homework. I am not being lectured by adults. I am not being glared at by classmates.

I am simply… existing. Breathing. Sensing.

And curled against me is very much another human. Warm, living, breathing. Fragile, yet trusting; I feel as though I am holding a small bird.

It’s tender.

…

…

So this is cuddling.

I must revise some of my initial thoughts.

Nagito Komaeda is not boring.

And neither is cuddling with him.