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Komaeda's kisses always brought out the previously well-hidden depths of Hajime's emotions. When those soft, but slightly chapped from the salty air, lips connected with his, his carefully constructed walls fell apart. The only thing that mattered in those moments was keeping the lanky boy's body pressed as close to his as possible and running his fingers through the incredibly tangled mess of white hair on his partner's head.
His kisses drew in Hajime. They just felt oh so good. He never experienced anything as tender as when Komaeda was cuddled into his side, his sickly thin frame leaning on his chest as their lips embraced. The boy had taken over his thoughts, but he certainly didn't mind. There was nothing he needed more than to succumb to the sensations the luckster made him feel. Even with flesh so cold, he ignited everything in Hajime's soul. It was like he was made for kissing Komaeda, which didn't bother him as much as it should have.
One evening after another death, he didn't remember which of their friends it was, the bodies had begun to blur together with every new death, the two boys rested on the shore together. Their hands longed to meet. His fingers twitched when Komaeda's brushed against them, shrieking at Hajime to allow them to join. He suppressed the urge in favor of staring at the stars. He didn't want to think about why his body was so eager to connect with the boy beside him.
The sky was breathtaking. The dark canvas was illuminated with speckles of white paint. The moonlight shone softly on Komaeda's face and something in Hajime ached. It overwhelmed him, the feeling dominated his mind gradually, and yet, all at once. The other's unnaturally pale skin was beautiful in that moment. He was almost the same shade as the stars, glowing brighter than Hajime's eyes could comprehend. His hair, in its tangled and touseled glory, fell on his sharp cheekbones. The shadows that had once plagued his face and made him appear skeletal were replaced with the all-consuming moonlight. The sight before Hajime almost made him forget about the conditions of their stay on the island. Komaeda looked better than any work of art he'd ever seen. Admitting that to himself made his stomach twist in knots.
He turned his gaze away from the luckster. The crisp night air, coupled with the gentle breeze from the sea, made the hair on his arms perk up. He didn't remember the air being so cold when he had left his cottage for the beach. His body moved on its own, shifting to lean against the person next to him in search of warmth. It quivered even with the extra body heat. Hajime sighed and reluctantly moved closer to his only source of warmth.
He felt Komaeda's chuckle more than he heard it. "Are you cold, Hinata-Kun?"
Hajime mumbled something unintelligible.
"Ah, then if you'll just give me a second..."
He heard the rustling of clothing and leaned away from Komaeda. He wasn't sure what the other boy was doing, but it was probably best to give him space.
He got his answer when a familiar jacket was draped across his shoulders. He'd always wondered what the piece of clothing that so often adorned Komaeda felt like, and his late-night conspiracies were nothing compared to the real thing. The fabric was incredible. The jacket was obviously well-worn but not enough to wear too thin. Its cotton, he assumed it was cotton, had become ridiculously soft. The other boy must've had the jacket for a while for it to feel so comfortable. Something about that made Hajime's heart pound against his chest. If it were any louder, he'd fear that Komaeda would hear it.
Hajime pulled the jacket tighter around him and relaxed back into the other's side.
"Thanks, I guess," he murmured.
"Anything for such a great symbol of hope," Komaeda said. His voice wasn't dripping with its usual venom. There was no self-depreciation, no idolizing, it was just his whisper against the song of the crashing waves. "Can't have you catching a cold in a time like this, can we?"
"No, we can't," and with that, he gave in to his body's screaming demands.
When his lips met Komaeda's, he swore he heard the other let out an adorable noise he'd never made for him before. It brought a smile to his face, and he moved his hand to cup Komaeda's bony cheek. Kissing Komaeda, he decided, was absolutely the most euphoric thing in the world. It always left him light-headed and aching for more, more, more. The warm mouth pressed against his, the way the boy clung to him, everything about it left his mind reeling. The luckster always tasted of something, something Hajime couldn't put his finger on, but it was extremely pleasant nonetheless. If this was what the hope Komaeda always rambled about felt like, he could understand why the boy was so addicted to it.
When they separated, Komaeda's eyes were wide and shone with what appeared to be elation. His pale cheeks were dusted with a delicate flush. His hand shook when it met with the one Hajime had placed on his cheek. When he pressed his face into the palm, Hajime had to resist the overwhelming urge to kiss him again and again until they were both breathless.
"I love you, Hinata-Kun," Komaeda whispered.
"I know," Hajime said, and he connected their lips once again.