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It was late at night on the boat that carried the Remnants of Despair, who were now criminals, according to the media. That wasn’t true, of course, but only the Remnants and Future Foundation knew that. It was a sacrifice they’d willingly made; after all, it wasn’t like they had families to go home to.
The moonlight shone on the ocean below, and Hajime Hinata stood by a railing, looking down into the soft reflection. He couldn’t sleep, so he came outside to get some fresh, salty air.
He thought about Nagito, who had said awful things to him before he ‘died’, who treated him as though he was worthless in an attempt to push him away. When Nagito had woken up, they both acted like nothing had happened. Of course, Hajime was fine with that. He wasn’t hung up over the situation, he knew it was a special circumstance. He knew Nagito cared for him and didn’t think any of those things.
Still, he pondered over the situation as he turned his gaze up to the stars.
Behind him, he heard the wood creak, and he didn’t have to guess who it was; moments later, arms wrapped around his waist from behind, light as a feather and fragile as glass.
This was the first time they had been remotely intimate with each other since the night in the hospital, which felt as though it had happened ages ago. Hajime turned his head and glanced back, his one green eye meeting the grey-green windows into Nagito’s soul. The windows were wide open, and Hajime saw a lot of guilt.
“Can we talk?”
Those were words that he never thought he’d hear from Nagito. How much had he grown, trapped in that head of his?
“...Sure,” Hajime agreed, turning around in Nagito’s arms and leaning against the rails.
Nagito took a step back and ran his mechanical hand through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, averting his eyes.
Hajime shook his head. “What for?”
“I… treated you the way I treat myself. I thought we were too alike. I put you on a pedestal that you didn’t even want to be on, and then ripped it out from under you. I was cruel. I was fighting myself because you’re important to me, but… I had my values.” He said the last part rather darkly, and Hajime raised an eyebrow.
“It’s water under the bridge, at this point,” he shrugged it off, though he was happy Nagito was owning up to it. The guilt in his eyes didn’t ease up, and Hajime reached up to cup his cheek. It was a tender moment, one that was probably better shared in the privacy of a closed room, but no one was out here, so he didn’t mind too much. There was a brief silence that felt like an eternity, no sounds but the rocking of the ship and the lapping of the waves below them and the sound of Hajime’s own heart beating steadily.
“I meant what I said, before,” Nagito whispered. “Or, rather, I meant what I was going to say.”
Hajime knew exactly what he was talking about. He had heard Nagito tripping over his own words, struggling whether to tell him he loved him or not, back in the funhouse, before everything had gone wrong. Before Nagito was confronted with his own views of worth and talent, before Hajime had let him push him away instead of persisting. Before Nagito had… died.
“I do… love you. I know I don’t deserve it, or anything to do with you, but I-” Nagito cut himself off, breaking eye contact.
Hajime guided his chin up so they were looking at each other again, and he noticed the roses blooming against Nagito’s pale skin.
“The hardest thing I’ve ever done is finding your dead body,” Hajime said, his eyes hardening as his walls came up again. “I thought you’d been tortured , I thought you’d been brutally murdered. I tried to be angry with you, for dying, and for treating me the way you did. But all I felt was pain.”
Nagito’s eyes widened, and the guilt intensified. “I’m sorry, I was…”
Hajime cut him off. “I got closure for Chiaki. I made sure she didn’t die in vain. I have her memories with me, and I knew she died nobly. But you? You died to kill us. I know it was because of the Remnant thing, but, jeez, Nagito. There is no closure for that.”
Nagito bit his lip, looking unsure of what to say. “I… I’m sorry.”
No excuses this time. No self-deprecation. It made it that much easier to believe him.
“We’re all alive. That’s what matters. And you understand.” He pushed his hand up to run his fingers through Nagito’s fluffy hair, and leaned up to kiss his forehead. His heart fluttered at the action, and he briefly wondered if it was okay, even though Nagito had just confessed his love for him.
Nagito leaned forward and down, hugging Hajime with everything he had. Hajime buried his nose in the cloud of hair on his head, inhaling slightly. Nagito smelled like the ocean, salty but breezy and gentle. They stayed like that for a while, clutching each other, and soon, Hajime realized that Nagito was crying. His body shook slightly, and Hajime’s shirt was getting slightly wet. He rubbed Nagito’s back soothingly, shushing him. How long had it been since Nagito cried? Even when discussing his kidnapping, and death of his parents, and everything that had happened to him, he never seemed sad. He appeared to be so out of touch with reality, pushing aside his grief for the hope that things would be better.
Hajime let him cry for what seemed like hours, even as his soft sniffles turned into wrecked sobs, until Nagito had quieted down. His breathing evened out, and Hajime played with his hair, hoping it would calm him.
“I’m sorry, I haven’t- I don’t usually cry-”
“Then it’s good that you did. Everyone should cry sometimes; it’s healthy,” Hajime dismissed him.
Nagito looked tired, but better. His shoulders seemed less weighed down by the world, and his eyes seemed clearer, like he’d finally been grounded, finally in touch with reality.
“What if you get hurt? Because of my luck,” Nagito asked suddenly.
“I’ll take that chance.”
Nagito’s puffy, red eyes still looked beautiful, and Hajime wondered if he thought his eyes were weird, because one was red and one was green. Nagito hadn’t commented on it, though, so maybe it wasn’t anything to worry about.
He was willing to take the chance of getting hurt because of those eyes. Because he would never get tired of looking into those eyes. No matter what the universe threw at him, as long as he was able to see Nagito, he would persevere. No matter what, he would look into Nagito’s eyes.
He was also willing to take the chance because Nagito had been through so much pain, so much suffering and inconsistency, had lost so much and gained only material things. It was time for that to change. It was time for Nagito to be loved. Hajime loved him, with everything that he was, even if he hadn’t said it yet or hadn’t shown it much.
He was lost in these thoughts, so he didn’t even notice that Nagito had been leaning in, closing the distance between them. It felt like every nerve in his body had come to life when Nagito’s lips grazed his own, and suddenly he was on fire. His heart pounded in his chest, and all he could think about was how Nagito smelled, and how soft his lips were, and how his fingers were now playing with the hair on the back of his neck, causing thrills to run down his spine.
It was over as soon as it had started, though, and Hajime was left missing the sensations already. He pulled Nagito back in, their breaths mingling before their lips collided, and a soft, pleased sound erupted from Nagito’s lips, which was immediately swallowed up by Hajime’s.
The boys kissed under the bright, gentle moonlight, the stars twinkling above them approvingly, and Hajime felt right. He felt happy, truly happy, and something warm settled in his chest. The two parted, and Hajime remained close to him, letting Nagito’s breath ghost over his lips.
“I love you,” Hajime whispered. And perhaps he always had, even if he hadn’t always understood it. Nagito’s eyes lit up, and Hajime wondered if he knew and had just been waiting to hear it.
This was the closure to Nagito’s temporary death that he had needed. This was the last piece of the puzzle to the rest of his life, and Hajime was now ready to take whatever bad luck came their way in stride. He had Nagito, and he had his friends. He had a future.
Most importantly, they were both ready to be loved.