Chapter Text
Nagito sat at the bleachers, idly watching the flashing lights and dancing couples. He barely knew why he’d decided to go - he didn’t have a date, or even a group of friends to accompany. So instead, he sat. He sat on his own, at the cold, uninhabited bleachers, simply observing the rest of the students as they bounced across the busy hall, completely absorbed in the bright lights and excessively loud music. Nagito sighed, adjusting his tie and briskly brushing a hand through his hair, which was pulled back into a low ponytail. He couldn’t even remember what’d motivated him to dress so elaborately, it wasn’t as if anyone would notice, or care for that matter.
During his time at Hope’s Peak, he hadn’t spoken to many of his classmates - he was far from socially adept - and none had tried to speak to him, given his odd personality, which had granted him an unfavourable reputation. Despite that, there had been one person who’d made an attempt to be welcoming, Hajime Hinata - they’d only shared a couple of classes, but he’d been nothing short of amiable during the time that they had spent together. Although, Nagito wasn’t sure whether he had the privilege to call him a friend.
He’d chalked Hajime’s kindness down to him being a naturally compassionate person, but regardless, Nagito couldn’t help but be fascinated by the other boy. He was good-hearted, sure, but there was so much more to him than just that, which only made Nagito’s admiration grow stronger. He loved the strangely sweet, fond look in his olive-green eyes that’d form everytime their gazes met; the way he got flustered so easily, and the pale blush that’d settle on his face, complimenting his tan skin; and above all, the fact that he’d dispute every self-deprecating comment, the fact he’d calmly deny every ungracious exclamation, and the fact that he cared. No-one else made Nagito feel that way. The more he thought about Hajime, the more he wished that he could call him a friend, perhaps even more than that, but he’d concluded that someone so hopeful would never consider willingly spending time with him, even out of pity.
His train of thought was cut short by an incredible, yet painful, sight. Nagito watched as the object of his affection, Hajime Hinata, stepped through the door, his arms linked with the pink-haired girl beside him, who was seemingly his date. He felt a harrowing pang of misery as he recognised their classmate Chiaki, and shock began to tear away at his insides. As Nagito’s chest ached, his eyes wandered the scene, querying as to how he could be so foolish to think that Hajime wouldn’t attend with her. They always had seemed so close. The brown-haired boy turned away from his partner, locking eyes with Nagito. Looking at him hurt more than ever. He turned his eyes to the wooden boards below his feet, suddenly mesmerized by the unkempt flooring.
A beat passed. He couldn’t bear knowing that Hajime was so physically close, yet simultaneously so distant. Desperate to catch a final glance, he looked up, but once his glare escaped the floor, he was greeted by a spectacle he never would’ve expected. Hajime was stood in front of him, hand outstretched and eyes wide. As the music transitioned from a heavy, overwhelming tune to a slower-paced, peaceful sounding song, the shorter boy maintained eye contact, his face flushing a deep pink, and spoke, “Um, Komaeda? May I have this dance?”
He felt heat rise to his face, almost unable to believe that Hajime wished to share the first dance of the night with him. Nagito stayed silent, completely awestruck at the enticing offer presented by the boy in front of him. Though he greatly wished to be close with the other boy, he recalled the sight of him with another classmate of theirs. He’d prefer not to be guilty of destroying committed relationships, even if that meant declining a romantic exchange with the boy he was completely infatuated with. “But, what about Chiaki?” he managed to mumble, despite the urge to accept his suggestion.
Hajime instantaneously began shaking his head, causing his hair to bounce slightly, and muttered out an embarrassed response, “Oh! No, no we’re just friends. I- I live pretty close to her and she just needed a ride. She’s, uh, not exactly my type, anyway.”
Once Nagito had ascertained what he meant, he found himself blushing furiously; he took Hajime’s hand into his own, gently slipping his lithe fingertips between the other boy’s - which were trembling slightly, but still soft and warm and delicate. Though it wasn’t much, the pair appreciated the physical contact, something both had been yearning for longer than they’d like to admit. It was simple and nice, like a fondness they never thought they’d share. They descended from the bleachers, hands still interlocked, and made their way to the centre of the auditorium, eager to share their first dance. He felt Hajime gingerly removing his hand from his grasp, and tenderly wrapping both his palms around the taller boy’s shoulders. Mimicking the other couples, Nagito brought his own hands to Hajime’s waist, softly pressing the tips of his fingers against the shorter boy’s white-button up. Neither of them had danced with anyone before, but they managed to sway vaguely in time with the gentle rhythm of the music - almost as if in a trance-like state, hypnotized by the beauty of their partner. The moments they shared felt akin to something sacred - the atmosphere that’d evolved between them was so serene and calm, yet still exhilarating, the couple overjoyed at the harmony between them.
The beat of the song steadied, an indication of the conclusion of the dance. Once again gaging eye contact with the other, Nagito fixed his stare on Hajime, hazy green eyes shining beneath thick, white lashes; his focus drifted across the shorter boy’s features, taking his time to fixate on each sharp, elegant quality. They felt their bodies float towards each other, guided by an unknown force, until the peaks of their noses were almost touching. They were caught at a standstill, an absence of movement, tension only increasing with every pause, or stutter of breath. Though he’d greatly cherished the mellow dance they shared, Nagito was hoping to share something more. Anticipation clawed at his stomach, until he seized the closeness of the situation, leaning forwards, and finally placing a brief, but tender, kiss onto the plush, pink lips of the boy beside him.