Chapter Text
Hajime could not be more relieved to finally relax.
He had spent his shift at the office answering a never ending stream of phone calls. He had dealt with complaint after complaint, appointment after appointment, question after question for what felt like much longer than his scheduled eight hour shift. He had been so busy that he didn’t even get the chance to ease the dullness and stress of the job by talking to his coworkers. That was after all, the best part of his job.
Don’t get him wrong, he was beyond grateful for the pay and to Sonia for helping him out of his unemployed funk, but the work was boring. The cycle of picking up the phone, repeating the same scripted greeting, discussing the caller’s reason for calling, and then transferring them into the sea of desks and cubicles definitely wasn’t Hajime’s idea of a good time. Luckily enough for him, Sonia had hired some more of their school friends before he had even known she had a position that allowed her to do so. This meant that during his breaks and slow hours he was able to spend time with pals such as Chiaki, Akane, Fuyuhiko, Nekomaru, and Mahiru.
But that had not been the case today. Something had gone wrong during product distribution, which had caused a tidal wave of unsatisfied customers. Hajime was not one to pity himself, but he had been yelled at by more people today then he ever had in his life and he hoped it would never happen again. Most of them didn’t even give him a chance to explain he had no power to fix their issues and simply directed calls when they shot into screaming vulgarities at him. He had barely managed to shove half a sandwich into his mouth during his break, let alone make conversation with anyone. He wondered briefly how Mahiru was doing after managing the complaint line, but he knew she would be able to handle it.
After he had clocked out, he hadn’t even waited until he was in the elevator before he picked up his cell phone and dialed Nagito’s number. It took only moments before he could hear the boy’s smooth voice on the other end.
“Hajime,” he said, a smile evident in his voice. “For what do I owe the pleasure?”
Hajime rolled his eyes. “You make it sound like we don’t talk every single day,” He heard a short chuckle on the other end. “I just had a shift straight from hell, please tell me we’re still making dinner tonight?”
“If that’s what you want,”
He ignored the doubt in Nagito’s voice and let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god, I’m leaving the office now,” He switched the phone to his other ear, fumbling for his keys in his pocket. “Is Makoto still out with Byakuya?”
“Yes he is,” he heard a hint of relief in Nagito’s voice, and questioned him curiously.
“You sound happier about that than usual, did something happen?”
“No, it's not that,” There was a brief pause as Nagito tried to think of how to respond. “I know it's not my place to complain, but they were up to quite the shenanigans when I got home from work. I’m just glad I don’t have to awkwardly avoid making eye contact with Togami all night.”
Hajime let out a laugh. “I would be too, if I’d walked in on that,” he sat down behind the wheel of his car before switching ears again. “Okay, well, I’m going to head over then. I’ll be there soon?” He grinned, excited to see his best friend again and unwind.
“I’ll be waiting,” Nagito cooed before ending the call. Hajime pulled out of the building’s crammed parking lot, unable to force the soft smile from his lips, but not really trying to either. As he drove down the familiar road to Nagito’s apartment, he let his thoughts wander.
Unsurprisingly, he began to think of the pale lanky boy.
It was not an uncommon occurrence for this to happen, after all the two of them had been best friends going on six years at that point. However, he couldn’t help but notice that recently, thoughts of Nagito had gone from being not uncommon to taking up the majority of his brain. He couldn’t say that it bothered him, though. He sort of welcomed the warm feeling that came in his chest when Nagito was on his mind.
When he completed the journey to his apartment, he knocked eagerly on the door. Nagito opened the door in a very quick manner, and with a polite smile and kind greeting he welcomed him inside. He was wearing a red and black striped sweater that he had tucked in the front, and a chain hung from his black jeans on one of his hips. He had pulled his long white hair into a half ponytail, and Hajime grinned as he noticed the boy was wearing mismatched animal socks. He couldn’t help but think that he looked much comfier than he did in his white button up shirt and khakis, the standard for the office dress code. He was thankful he had taken his tie off in the car.
As Hajime stepped inside, he took a deep breath. Along with the recognizable scent of vanilla and sandalwood, he could smell chicken sizzling on the stovetop. He let the corner of his mouth peak up in contentedness, the familiarity bringing a sort of homey feel to him. He raised an eyebrow at Nagito, who had returned to the stove, as he took off his shoes and set his keys on the counter.
“Woah,” he said in exaggerated shock. “Did you actually start without me?” Nagito rarely did, despite the fact that he was almost always off of work before Hajime. He was usually afraid to ruin their meal, or that Hajime would decide to not show up. Of course he insisted that it would never happen, but Nagito had his doubts.
He didn’t turn his face from the pan, but Hajime could see the twinkle in his eye that came from his efforts being noticed. “What can I say, I guess for once in my life I decided to be useful.”
Hajime frowned. He had known for a long time that trying to stop Nagito’s self deprecation was a losing battle, but it still upset him when it happened and he had never really given up on trying to encourage him. Wracking his brain for a way to refute the claim without giving Nagito the chance to fight back, he joined the other in the kitchen. As he began pulling ingredients from the cupboards, the perfect memories came to mind.
“I can think of a few times you’ve been more than useful,” he said in a cheery tone. He didn’t get a reply, and he knew from experience that Nagito didn’t want to agree but was curious as to what the mentioned times were.
“How about that time the class went camping, and you, Fuyuhiko, Kaz, and I got lost on one of our night hikes?” He grinned at the memory, mixing various spices together in a bowl as he prepared the sauce for their food. “You were the only one who was smart enough to bring water, and the only one of us who actually knew how to navigate back to the campsite with only a compass.”
Again, Nagito didn’t say anything but he did not hide his smirk this time. Hajime took it as a sign to continue.
“Or there was the time that we went to dinner with Mahiru and Hiyoko, and somehow not a single one of us had remembered to bring our wallets.”
Nagito hummed quietly in response, covering the chicken in flour and putting it back on the pan. “I remember that,” he said with a hint of fondness.
“Hiyoko insisted she never paid for her own food, and Mahiru told us it was our job as the men to pay.” Hajime chuckled at the memory. “I remember already freaking out about the fact that I had forgotten mine, and I went into a full blown panic when I looked at you and realized you didn’t have any money either. We all thought the big dumb muscle-y waiter was going to kill us, and he tried to report us to the owner! But a certain lucky kid somehow convinced her that if he could beat her in rock paper scissors, we could get our meal for free. Then when you won, we all ordered more food until we were sick.”
With this, Nagito started to giggle. “She was so mad, I thought she was going to rip her ponytails right out of her head,” he said reminiscing fondly.
“Not to mention, before I got Kaz to agree to being roommates, you let me crash on your couch until I found a place.” Hajime said these words with a softer approach, and took the time to look into Nagito’s eyes, making sure that the other knew how grateful he was. They shared eye contact for a few seconds before Nagito ducked away and opened the fridge. Hajime noticed his heart rate pick up, but paid no attention to it. Instead, focusing on the mess of white behind the refrigerator door.
“I don’t know if that counts as useful, Hinata.” Nagito speculated.
“It’s at least helpful, and it was very much appreciated.”
The next scene unfolded before either boy realized what was happening. Neither of them noticed that the pan of chicken had caught fire, and was now burning idly right beside them. Nagito had retrieved what he needed from the fridge, and as he tried to step back to the counter, he stood up too fast, bonking his head on the top shelf with a quick “Ouch!” This then caused a vase of flowers on the top to teeter back and forth. He had stepped back, rubbing his head and closing the door.
The final rumble of the door’s movement sent the vase flying off towards the counter. Both boys watched the vase fall, eyes wide and mouths open as they noticed the flaming pan for the first time. In some God granted miracle, when the vase hit the counter, the flowers fell to the floor, and the water splashing from within landed with a neat little hiss on the pan, extinguishing the fire just as soon as they had seen it. The two of them blinked at each other, and then the stove, and back to each other.
Hajime roared in laughter. Unable to contain it, he gripped his sides and doubled over, tears threatening to leave his eyes. He leaned on the counter, trying to catch his breath. Without a word, Nagito picked up the vase and flowers, filling it with water again and placing it away from the edge of the fridge this time. Hajime caught wind of the blush and grin on Nagito’s face and snickered again. Hajime’s obvious amusement with the incident made him giggle as well, and the blush left his face after a shared moment of laughter. Hajime took a look at the pan of ruined chicken and threw it away, knowing it was not salvageable. “Takeout?” he asked the other with a goofy grin, and Nagito shyly nodded in agreement.
These kind of not-so-disastrous disasters had been happening around Nagito since they had met, and though they had taken a long time to get used to, Hajime had learned to turn them into funny stories. He knew that it made Nagito feel at least a little better knowing Hajime was never annoyed or angry, and that he truly found these moments to be endearing.
After ordering some pizza, the two decided the best course of action was to clean up before it arrived. Between dishes and cleaning rags, Hajime took another look at the boy and couldn’t help but snort again. Somehow the tip of his ponytail had found its way in sauce, and now looked like a paint brush attached to nagito’s head. The front of the boy’s sweater was soaked from the dish water, and flour dusted his sleeves, pants and cheeks which gave Hajime the impression that he looked like a snow fairy. Noticing his giggles and stare, Nagito cocked his head. “What’s so funny?”
“You’re a mess,” Hajime retorted, attempting to straighten his face.
“I always have been,” he said with a roll of his eyes before he turned back to the sink with a smirk. He looked over his shoulder, and in the sassiest tone he had, he replied, “You're not the cleanest yourself, Simba.” This caused Hajime to raise his eyebrows, and curiously he checked his reflection on the lid of a nearby pot. A large red swipe of sauce had found its home on Hajime’s forehead. His face fell as he realized he definitely had not had any room to laugh at Nagito’s appearance. Groaning at the other’s chuckles, he excused himself to the bathroom to wash himself off. He couldn’t help smiling at Nagito’s joke when he was alone.
After the two cleaned up and pizza arrived, they spent the rest of the night mindlessly watching crime dramas on the television, though they hardly paid attention. Instead the two began to talk about anything and everything. They talked about Hajime’s new job, a kitten Nagito had found a home for at the shelter, about experiences they had since the last time they had met up, and Nagito asked about Hajime’s parents like he always did. Eventually the conversation died out, and they both fell asleep on the couch. They were awoken by Makoto returning to the apartment. Groggy, and not completely understanding what Makoto was saying to him he took his cue to leave and headed home.
Now as he headed into the complex, a smile crept on his face. Despite the mess, the fire, and the new crick in his neck from the couch, he was thankful for his night with Nagito. But then again, for Hajime, time with Nagito had always been pleasant, regardless of the other’s insistence that he was wrong to think so. Hajime’s smile fell at this thought.
Anyone who had ever met the fair haired boy knew that he had self esteem issues, and that was putting it lightly. Most people found it annoying and considered it attention seeking, eventually deciding that distance was the best option when it came to Komaeda. But not Hajime. When he met the boy at age fifteen, he, like the rest of the world, was taken back by the boy’s demeanor, but a sort of curiosity had rooted itself in him. He had spent months getting close to him, learning his interests and disinterests, and opening up to the boy himself.
Ultimately this led to Nagito’s first ever real friend. The pair knew things about each other that the rest of the world would never, and they had been inseparable since. If he could have one wish in this world, it would be for Nagito to know how much he really meant. Sighing again, he unlocked the door to his apartment.
“Yo,” he heard Kazuichi's voice from inside his bedroom. “You’re out super late this time! Didja meet a girl?” His roommate’s head popped out from the door frame, and he wiggled his eyebrows. Hajime rolled his eyes and threw one of his shoes in the pink haired boy’s direction, missing on purpose but laughing when Kazuichi ducked anyways. “Fine, fine! No girl,” his voice grew fainter as he returned to his room. “What took you so long anyways?” Hajime made his way into Kaz’s room, avoiding stepping on the nuts, bolts and screws scattered across the floor. He plopped himself on his roommate’s bed, and stared at the ceiling. “I fell asleep at Komaeda’s,”
“Why?”
“I didn’t mean to, dumbass!”
“Well, duh,” Kaz picked up a disorganized pile of wires and metal and started toying with them, reaching for a screwdriver under his bed. “I meant what did you guys do that made you so tired?” Hajime sat up and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “Not much, we made dinner and somehow the pan caught fire.” This was hilarious to the mechanic, his tongue poking through his sharp teeth as he cackled. “That sounds about right!” he said loudly.
Hajime took a look around at the other’s bedroom, noticing the stack of legos in the corner and three cans of monster energy that had not been in the mess the morning before. Amongst the clothes and various junk food wrappers, he could see small parts of machinery scattered across the room. It was then that he realized maybe the pile Kazuichi had grabbed actually had a function. Curious, he squinted his eyes at him. “What are you building now?”
Not looking away from the machine in his hands, he answered Hajime excitedly. “I’m building a minifridge!” He stuck his screwdriver in his mouth and reached for another unseen tool under the bed. Hajime stared at him. “Why?” he asked.
“Cuz I want a minifridge,” he said, screwdriver still in his mouth.
“There’s a fridge ten feet from you,” he questioned.
Frustrated and evidently unable to reach what he was looking for under the bed, he turned to Hajime, his tone and face exasperated. “Hajime,” he put down the weird pile of machinery. “Take a look at our fridge.”
“I’ve seen it,”
“Then answer me this, what size is our fridge?”
“Fridge sized?”
“Exactly, does that sound like ‘mini’ to you?”
Kazuichi returned to searching for whatever he needed under the bed. Hajime shook his head, knowing that when Kaz started a project, there was no stopping him from finishing. He pulled out his phone to check the time, ignoring the shaking of the bed as he rummaged underneath. It was way too late for him to still be awake, he had work in the morning. Combined with the muffled “Aha!” from under the bed, and the emergence of Kazuichi with a blow torch, Hajime decided it was time for bed.
After changing into his pajamas and brushing his teeth, he crawled into bed and closed his eyes. He let his mind drift again, and like always he thought of Nagito. He thought back to sneaking out late at night to meet up with him in high school, he thought about the adventures they had at movie theaters, amusement parks, arcades, and school dances, and of the many nights he had stayed the night at Hajime’s not wanting to be alone.
As his body relaxed, he began to picture his smile. Not the placating smile he gave the world, or the smile he used when he insisted he was insignificant that made Hajime’s heart hurt, but the real smile he managed to get out of him once in a while when they would laugh together or Hajime would surprise him and pick him up from work. Hajime was convinced it was one of the most beautiful sights the world had to offer. If he could somehow bottle Nagito’s smile, it could cure any disease, fix any problem, or stop any war. Though a small voice in his head wondered if he would simply keep his smile to himself if given the chance.
His thoughts raced from how soft Nagito’s hair was, to how he twirled his locks when he was thinking, to the way his lips would just barely part when you had his interest. Images of the boy laughing, and the way he would stand closer to him and pinch Hajime’s sleeves with furrowed brows when things got too loud danced in his mind. He welcomed the memories of the way he walked, carefully to never step on cracks in the pavement, and of the way he scrunched and turned his nose away when he smelled eel. Hajime knew he loved everything about Nagito, and he allowed himself to submerge in these thoughts as he prepared to succumb to sleep.
When suddenly, and without warning, a stabbing pain shot through his heart. He sat up straight and clutched at his chest, gasping for air. He pushed the blankets off himself, not sure what to do but knowing something was wrong. Somehow in the back of his mind he knew the best option was to get to Kazuichi for help. Sweat secreted through every pore in his body, he clamped his eyes shut, and clenched his jaw. He resisted the urge to scream, grunting and groaning as he clawed at the floor.
Then, as rapidly as it had come, the pain stopped. He just sat for a moment, breathing heavily and wondering what the hell had just happened. It had felt as though his heart was being stretched and ripped from the inside, and his ribcage was made of searing iron from a blacksmith’s forge. Before he could give it much thought, something tickled his throat. He began to cough, trying to get whatever he had inhaled out. He hunched over, feeling like he was coughing like a 60 year old smoker, and felt something in his mouth. Whatever it was, it was soft and thin. Something clicked, and fear shook him to his core.
He didn’t want to look. He kept whatever was in his mouth there, too scared to take it out. He didn’t need to. He knew what it was. Between the pain, the cough, and the subject on his mind before any of that had happened… there was only one thing it could be. He knew he had to pull the object from his mouth, he couldn’t hide from this.
Quivering, he slowly spit into his hand.
In between his shaking fingers, a small yellow petal stared back at him.