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Nagito watched the rain drops race down the car window, not rooting for one or another like he might've when he was a child. He frowned a bit at the thought; even if he wanted to bet on a raindrop it would be pointless. The one he wanted to win definitely would make it to the bottom of the window first, and inevitably lead to a disaster for him and his friends. He decided to stop watching the backseat window.
Back when Nagito and his former classmates decided to be contained on the island forever, as a bit of an apology and rehabilitation for their actions as Ultimate Despairs, they'd all assumed it would be just them until... Well forever. But slowly, over the few years they'd lived there, more people from the outside world (mostly from Japan, but of course there were outliers) who felt they couldn't go back to life as usual after The Tragedy found their way to the island. They moved there with the permission of the Future Foundation, and no one was ever permitted to leave. Unsurprisingly, people seeking solitude from the rest of the world weren't too keen to leave in the first place. The mostly silent, save for clearing his throat every few minutes, driver was one of these people. He'd been a driver in his normal life before the tragedy, and he was glad to be a driver in his life on the island.
The real Jabberwock Island was much larger than the virtual version of itself, hence needing real transportation besides just sprinting to get from one side to the other. One end of the island was more or less reserved for activities, shops, etc, such as the staging area used mostly by Ibuki and Hiyoko, and the volleyball courts on the sandy beach. The other end was the residential area, a larger rendition of the virtual counterpart Nagito and the others had lived in. The cottages were built larger depending on each person's needs, and each one was a bit more stylized according to their tastes. There were 4 small neighborhoods now, one was of course the homes of the former class 77-B students. Ryota Mitarai lived with the Ultimate Impostor, who most simply called "Friend" rather than Byakuya Togami, the identity they'd falsely claimed. Their home was still situated in between Hajime's and Nagito's.
Just one cottage separating Nagito and Hajime wouldn't seem like a far distance at all, but as the driver pulled to a stop in front of the entrance to the neighborhood it seemed like the furthest distance in the world to Nagito. He tucked his left arm in his coat to keep the rain from coming into contact with his prosthetic, thanked the driver, and quickly walked down the path. He was originally going to head straight home, but he stopped in front of Hajime's cottage. He stared at the door, too much of a coward to step onto the porch just yet. The rain began to fall a little faster, and he realized he'd forgotten to pull his hood up as the cold water started to soak through his hair to his scalp, and drip down his pale face. Nagito turned away and rushed down to his own cottage. As he tried to enter, he realized he'd locked the door that morning, something he didn't often do. He reached into his pocket only to find it was empty, as were his other pockets. The only person with a spare key, the person who most people entrusted their spare keys to, was Hajime.
Nagito once again found himself at Hajime's cottage. He made it to the porch this time, but even when he knew knocking on the door was inevitable he couldn't make himself do it. Nagito raised his right hand to knock but instead at the last second he smacked it against his forehead and turned around. I can't. I can't. I'll just break in to my own-
"Nagito?"
Nagito froze, his dramatic inner lamenting interrupted by Hajime seemingly sensing him on his property.
Rotten luck.
"Hi Hajime!" he said as he turned back around, stepping a bit too close to Hajime as he always seemed to do. "I need my spare key. I wasn't sure if you were home so I was going to leave. Sorry. I suppose I should've actually knocked."
Hajime took a step back, but didn't frown slightly like he did when they first met on the virtual version of Jabberwock Island. He actually smiled.
"Well you should come in then, I have to actually uh- find your key. You know?"
Nagito followed Hajime into the cottage, closing the door behind him. He looked around the room, adjacent to the small kitchen. It was... plain. Nagito didn't like it. Hajime might've been a simple person, but he wasn't plain. He sat down at the two-seated wooden table, watching Hajime search cupboards for the key. It was so quiet. Nagito didn't spend much alone time with Hajime, not because Hajime avoided him or anything, it was actually the other way around. He didn't really want to avoid Hajime, but he felt like he had to. He could only hold people close for so long before something terrible happened. Nagito couldn't stand to think about it, but whenever he thought of Hajime the thought would always get back to him. He wished he could feel that same joy and relief he'd felt when he was finally woken up from his coma the virtual reality had put him under; that feeling of seeing Hajime was okay, not in some peril caused by Nagito's death. Nagito still felt guilty for what he'd done to himself in the Neo World Program, what he'd done to the AI version of their dear friend. He had never apologized, but Hajime had once insisted he knew Nagito was sorry.
That was something Nagito loved about Hajime. He was always so nice to him, even after he'd done awful things both before The Tragedy and in the NWP. Sometimes even strangers would avoid Nagito if they knew who he was, but Hajime never seemed to bare any ill will towards him. He was always so calm and collected, even if he didn't know what was going on sometimes. He helped people whenever he could. He never seemed scared of Nagito's luck. He didn't agree with Nagito, and call it a curse.
"Hajime-"
"There it is!" Hajime exclaimed, holding the spare key to Nagito's cottage triumphantly. He walked back over to Nagito and placed the key in the center of his hand. Nagito curled his cold fingers around the key, and mentally took note of Hajime holding that hand in both of his own. "Did you want anything else?"
Nagito wanted to be held like this for the rest of his life.
"Nope. Thank you, Hajime," he answered, regretfully pulling away from the other man's gentle grasp. He turned and left alone, listening to the soft click of the door as Hajime closed it behind him. He walked like a zombie down the path once again, popping the key in his jacket pocket once he finally got inside his cottage. He felt stupid for letting his back slide down the closed door and pulling his knees to his chest. He felt stupid for going another day without saying anything substantial to Hajime. He felt stupid for still wanting to hold him close despite his cursed luck. He felt stupid for not taking advantage of every second with him to admire his eyes, and his movements, and the way he always sounded just a little nervous even if the situation was mundane. He felt stupid for not being able to cry, and for wanting the tears to come in the first place.
Nagito resented himself for letting himself feel like this, and for getting so tantalizingly close to Hajime in the Neo World Program. If he knew he'd have to go the rest of his life like this he would've stayed a loner in that reality, he would've stayed as far from Hajime as humanly possible. Because this wasn't worth it. It wasn't worth being so close to him, seeing him around the island every day, and knowing he could never confess to Hajime that when he said he was in love with the hope inside of him Nagito meant he loved Hajime. He loved Hajime so much it would make his hand and chest ache sometimes. So much he wished he'd been born without this curse, so that maybe he could've been friends with Hajime in the reserve course. In another world, they would've died two friends in The Tragedy, but in this one Nagito was doomed to be loved by no one, and have no one to love. Because he knew how that would end. He'd be just as alone, but with the extra guilt of being the reason yet another loved one is harmed or dead.
Nagito finally stood up after what felt like decades. He tossed his coat on the floor and deftly unclasped his prosthetic as he'd done countless times. It took just a few seconds for him to plug it in and throw himself onto his bed. He let out a wordless scream into his pillows before rolling over onto his back to stare at the ceiling.
Rotten luck.