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It was in the way Hajime had stopped telling Nagito he loved him that he realized their relationship had reached its breaking point.
It was in the way he’d loosely held onto Nagito’s hand when Nagito went to grasp it underneath the table, a gesture they had adopted over the years of being together.
It was in the way Hajime had gazed at the ceiling and never so much as a glance towards him when they made love. The way Hajime was never there in the mornings anymore.
And of course, it was in the way that he’d started pushing Nagito away from the shelter of his arms into an endless black oblivion, where he’d stood years before.
Where he was isolated. Cold. Alone.
It’s funny. He knew something like this was bound to happen at least one point in the future, but he hadn’t really expected it to be so soon into their marriage.
Whatever the case though, Nagito should’ve known. He should’ve known, he should’ve known that nothing good in his life lasts forever. Especially not something as amazing, as hopeful as his relationship with Hajime. How could he have let himself harbor so much meaningless hope for so long?
How could he, when he knew that somebody as special as Hajime could never be with somebody as worthless Nagito?
He recalls multiple occurrences of confessing soft whispers of love to Hajime and hearing only a quiet hum in response, or sometimes, cold dead silence.
It scares him, how emotionless Hajime’s started growing ever since the Future Foundation corporation began giving him harsher work hours and shorter vacations. Perhaps it’s the reason behind his negligence of affection for Nagito.
But perhaps it’s not, and Nagito’s clinging to that same, meaningless hope that dwindles away with each passing day Hajime acts like they’re nothing but strangers.
He’d tried countless times to get Hajime to rest but everytime he does he’s pushed away by a tone so determined yet harsh that he doesn’t dare to push, lest Hajime hate him even more than he probably does.
Ah…hate him… Hajime hates him…
It makes sense, Nagito thinks, even as tears build behind his eyes. He’s only a burden to Hajime. He’s only ever been a burden to him.
And he knows this, he knows this because Hajime will lose his patience with him and his sentences will come out clipped and laced with irritation.
It’s never too much. He never raises his voice with him, but he can tell when Hajime’s exasperated when something goes wrong, specifically when the unfortunate event had inevitably fallen on Nagito’s bad luck.
He remembers the look in Hajime’s eyes when he had knocked over the shelves of medicine and remedies in the pharmacy, that one evening a few weeks back. The disappointment and utter exhaustion weighing heavy behind those translucent hues of ruby and jade. At the moment, the soft, natural green of his right eye had been the only him grounding him, telling him that it was Hajime and not…not him .
He’d been familiar with the same discontented stare, he had known it all his life from others that weren’t Hajime.
But if he had known then… then it shouldn’t hurt as much as it does.
So as days go by and long nights pass, his husband slips farther and farther away from him. And when he falls against the door of their shared bathroom and holds his head, gripping onto those white locks with a force so harsh it could rip the strands from their roots, he doesn’t think there’s anything he can do for them anymore.
Nagito’s no stranger to the bunched up expression Hajime wears on his face right now, typing up an email on his laptop.
He should probably just go to bed. Leave Hajime to his own devices until Hajime determines himself that it’s time to stop working tirelessly behind a blue screen.
But at the same time, he sees the corner of Hajime’s eyes are bloodshot, his hair sticks in directions it shouldn’t, and his hands shake a little with the minimalistic effort of typing.
He sighs, and shuts his book with a defining clap that sounds in the cottage before sliding over to Hajime on the couch and leaning his head against his husband’s (Husband? Are they married?) shoulder.
“You should sleep, darling.”
The only response he gets is the sound of fingers slamming against keys.
“You’ve been working for hours, Hajime, you need sleep.”
“I’m fine, go to bed.”
The short, off-handed reply bristles him and he swallows down a lump in his throat from something so small. So small yet it feels like dozens of needles prickling deep into his skin.
“I can't sleep without you next to me.” He tries helplessly, pressing a small kiss to Hajime’s neck. It’s the partial truth, because while he can sleep, he can't necessarily sleep well. And on top of that, he can’t help but feel a pang of shame at the possible manipulation behind the statement, because he feels Hajime stiffen on his lips.
But no, he thinks firmly, it’s not manipulation if he’s trying to get his husband to sleep and take care of himself.
He hears Hajime sigh before saying with a scratch in his voice, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”
That’s good enough, Nagito thinks with a weak smile. He leaves another soft kiss to his husband’s cheek, but when he sees the lack of response to the physical affection, his smile melts and he’s silent as he leaves to their shared bathroom to wash up.
When he steps out of the shower, he blinks from the fog accumulated from how hot he’d showered, the burn of the water still seeping beneath his skin. He dresses himself while thoughts buzz around in his head, an obnoxious storm of anxieties clouding in his mind.
It’s not usual that Hajime dresses him, but everytime he finds himself being domestically taken care of with touches so tender, it lights his heart on fire in a way he’d been so unfamiliar to. Now, as he combs through his hair with his bottom lip trembling a little, he grasps at the memories and the lost sensations as they slip from his mind.
He’ll never get them back. He’ll never be able to relive those moments again, because Hajime will never want to touch him again. No, of course he won’t. How could he ever think to touch filth like Nagito?
He’s worthless, worthless, so, so worthless-
He sucks in a knife-like inhale as he feels himself getting dizzy, grounding himself by gripping onto the sink. He mindlessly begins brushing his teeth, familiar thoughts haunting him as he rubs harshly against his gums, making them bleed.
When he returns, Hajime’s still working, and he climbs into his side of the bed, the side closest to the window where starlight filters in and bathes him in a light blue. And as promised, in five minutes, Hajime shuts down his laptop and he watches as Hajime stretches, popping his muscles and expression twisting into a pleased smile. The show of emotion makes his heart jump but not even a second after, his smile disappears and his expression quickly dissolves into bored-neutrality.
He disappears into the bathroom without another word.
Nagito lets out a sigh, before turning on his side and facing the window, willing himself to sleep even when thoughts of being abandoned plague his mind. He’s already begun drifting off into a dream, maybe a nightmare by the black tentacles he’d felt creeping up his ankles, until he feels the bed being dipped on the opposite side.
Hajime slides in next to him, and the blankets are yanked a little towards his side before he settles in and faces the other direction, splaying his arm across the pillow. Nagito’s heart constricts with pain as he realizes that nobody’s holding anybody tonight, for the...ah, he’s lost track of how long it’d been since they’d fallen asleep in each other’s arms.
He fails to fight back the tremor in his voice as he whispers, “Good night, Hinata-kun. I love you.”
Hajime grunts in response, and it’s all he gets.
That’s it.
That’s... it.. ?
No...no, no, no, no.
He won’t last much longer like this. No, he definitely won’t because the pain searing hot in his mind is unbearable, threatening to make him fall apart completely into a dark abysmal he’ll never escape from. He can’t bear to continue on with their faulty relationship knowing that Hajime hates him with a passion so guttural, so real. He hates him, he hates him as he should, but Nagito, he - he needs to hear it for himself.
“Do you…” He begins, a dam threatening to burst behind his eyes as he fidgets and pulls the sheets closer within himself.
Hajime’s dead silent, but his breathing pattern shifts ever so slightly, telling him he hasn't yet fallen asleep.
This is all he needs to keep going. To confirm his suspicions once and for all, to finally know if Hajime really does hate him. He needs closure, as painful as it will be.
He stares down at the glint of the wedding band wrapped around his ring finger and presses it to his lips when he asks, “Do you not love me anymore Hinata-kun…?”
“What?” The answer’s immediate, frantic. Panicked, even. He feels Hajime turn to him and it’s the first he’s heard such emotion in days.
“Why would you ask that?”
He looks away. Looks towards the ceiling and fights back the tears. The glow-in-the-dark stars that Hajime had glued on there for him months back seem to glimmer more than actual stars.
When he doesn’t say anything back, Hajime repeats himself, more forcefully and fear creeps into his voice. “Why would you ask that? Nagito, why would you ever ask that?”
And in listening to the straining of his voice, Nagito crumbles, and shuts his eyes as warm tears roll down his cheeks.
He whispers in a pathetically broken voice, “B-Because it f-feels like you don’t love me anymore, H-Hinata-kun.” And with that, he throws his arms over his eyes and releases an ugly, shaking sob that seems to echo off the walls of their cottage.
“Oh, baby, no- “ All of a sudden, he feels his body being turned over and he’s being forced to face Hajime, but he presses his arms harder into his face to the point where he can see faint stars speckling his vision.
“Look at me. Nagito, please look at me.”
He sobs harshly, not daring to let up to reveal the expression Hajime’s making at him, but when he feels a gentle hand tug his arm away, it’s as if every bone in his body dissolves and every single muscle softens into nothing. He hiccups, and his blazing, green eyes reluctantly meet Hajime’s, which are wide and concerned. His eyebrows are drawn together and Nagito hears a soft, indignant, “oh,” when his eyes land on the tears running violently down his cheeks, lighting his cheeks aflame.
“That’s not true. That’ll never be true, Nagito, I love you more than anything in this entire world.” And then the back of his head is being pushed forward and tucked securely underneath Hajime’s chin, where light stubble meets a fluffy surface. “Do you hear me? Anything in this entire world.”
Even as he’s being held like he had so longed for, the pain resurfaces and bubbles at the edge of his words when he whimpers into the fabric of Hajime’s shirt, “Then w-why don’t you want to look at me anymore…?”
“Nagito-” The hand on the back of his head clutches onto his hair, holds him impossibly closer. “I’m sorry, I - I didn’t realize - I didn’t know-“
“N-No. You have nothing to apologize for.” Comes the response as he feels his mind fogging up, familiar bouts of self deprecation running like poison through his veins. “It’s my fault, i-it’s always been my fault, Hinata-kun. I r-ruin everything, I c-can’t even manage to make you happy. I’m a worthless, disgusting, pathetic excuse of a husband, I, ha, shouldn’t even be allowed to breathe the same air as-“
“Stop, d-don’t say that…!” Hajime cries which silences Nagito quickly, the emotion behind the words stunning him for all but a moment. “Please don’t say that.”
“B-But-”
“But nothing.” Then, with the hand on his hair, he pulls Nagito’s head back gently yet determinedly to look at him in all his raw, damaged glory. He says, with a firm exploding passion behind his voice, “I love you, Nagito. I love you so much, I -” He laughs hoarsely. “I don’t even think words can describe. You mean...more to me... than anything-”
Without thinking, Nagito leans in just as Hajime pulls his face in and their lips collide in the most broken kiss they’ve ever shared. He sobs quietly into the kiss, and clutches desperately at the front of Hajime’s shirt, hands fisting in the collar and he feels calloused thumbs stroke his tears away.
God knows how much he’s missed this, how long he’s waited to kiss him again, to touch him like this again. And from the way Hajime holds onto him with the same amount of desperation and want, fingers running through his long tresses of white, maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for them after all.
Hajime tugs on his bottom lip with his teeth, a tendency he’d picked up on throughout their time together and pulls away ever so slightly to murmur into the space of his mouth, “So much, Nagito. So much. I love you so much.”
“I love you t-too, Hi-Hinata-kun…” He hiccups, and he finds that he doesn’t need to move to kiss him again, only press deeper into his lips. He realizes, as his tongue finds Hajime’s to prod at, that he hadn't addressed Hajime by his first name. But, he’d been so long accustomed to calling Hajime with formalities that the habit was hard to shake off. Although, perhaps it’s better that way. It makes his husband’s reactions, ranging from deep blushing to a small lift of eyebrows when he hears his given name leave Nagito’s lips, so much more precious.
He’s brought out of his thoughts when Hajime pulls away with a wet smack, his face a dark crimson. Moonlight gushes over both of them in hazy streaks, and Nagito’s heart pounds with love, his breathing heavy and unsteady.
His darling leans in to press a quick, quiet smooch against his puffy lips, before bringing Nagito’s head back to the space in the column of his neck. Nagito shudders, and slips down to press his forehead against those sharp collarbones, leaving just enough room for him to breathe shallowly.
He entangles his bony legs with Hajime’s own, hesitant in doing so in fear that he’ll be pushed away, rejected, or that something, anything will go wrong. But when he finds himself nestled inside the castle of Hajime’s arms, he blushes deeply, feeling more protected than he ever has in a long time.
He feels a whisper vibrate against the shell of his ear, “I missed you,”
“I m-missed you too…” And then the tears are running freely down his cheeks again, emotions drowning him in a heavy stream.
“Hey,” Hajime murmurs, and brings him closer, burying his nose in his crown of white hair. “I love you, okay? I love you, Komaeda.”
Nagito whimpers gently, trembling in Hajime’s embrace for no real reason except for the words in his mind telling him he doesn’t deserve this, he doesn’t deserve this one bit, Hajime’s lying to him, nobody should ever love someone like him-
“Remember when we first met?” Hajime asks. “I thought you were an angel. You looked like an angel, you know, you were so beautiful and kind to me - and you still are. You stayed by me the entire time. You were my anchor - you grounded me. You were there for me during that entire shitshow and…it meant everything to me. You mean everything to me. ”
The sudden recountment of their time in the Neo World Program stills Nagito for a second. “I…but what about everything else, Hinata-kun…? I - I caused so many problems for you and everyone else, you should have h-hated my very being-“
“No.” Hajime interrupts firmly. “I didn’t hate you. I didn’t hate you at all, I - I could never hate you, Nagito.”
The words fill him with immeasurable warmth, warmth that for once, doesn’t burn holes into his heart.
“You confused me, and you scared me, but it only made me want to understand you more, made me want to be… close to you. And now that I do understand you damn it, I should be the ultimate lucky student because no one else will ever get the chance to know you like I do.”
His head swims with thoughts incomprehensible even to him, but his heart drowns in emotion and giddiness that Hajime could ever think of him in such a light. He shudders when Hajime pulls him closer and without thinking, brushes his lips against the sharpness of his collarbones and lays a gentle kiss on it. Hoping it could convey the amount of absolute love he feels for him.
Hajime sighs. “You’re beautiful. I love you. You’re the sweetest, smartest, strongest man I know.” Nagito huffs a laugh at the last description, knowing it couldn’t be farther from reality but when he feels Hajime pouting above him and when he says, “it’s true,” his smile cracks and his blush deepens.
“Thank you for being in my life.” He brings his hand down to entwine fingers with Nagito’s own metallic one, rubbing over his ring finger affectionately. “I’ve never loved anything more than I’ve loved you, Komaeda. I wouldn’t want anybody else to share the future with, you know that?”
Although a certain somebody in their past does come to mind, he decides against saying it and when he speaks, his voice comes out hoarse. He whispers, “I know, H-Hinata-kun.”
Hajime senses his doubt immediately and reassures him, quickly pulling his calloused hand away and back to his mess of curls, “I mean it.”
Then he continues talking, continues rambling aimlessly about the ways Nagito changed his life, how he can’t imagine his life without him, how much he loves him and why he loves him, his reasons ranging from -
“I love you when you twirl that red string on your hoodie because you’re thinking of something happy.”
To-
“I love that you’re both the first thing and the last thing I hear everyday. I love that you always stay by my side no matter what. I love that you never left. I love you.”
And with each word that leaves his lips, he can feel Hajime effectively stamping out the scorching thoughts in his mind and calming the turmoil in his heart, even when tears keep rushing down his cheeks. This has happened - multiple times in the past before - where only the sound of his husband’s gentle voice is able to put him to ease as if nothing had ever happened in the first place, washing him in waves of serenity.
He blinks sleepily, his ever-present flush burning on his cheeks and when he bumps his head against Hajime’s neck, he feels soft lips brush over his hair and murmur, “Good night, Nagito. I love you.”
“I love you, Hajime…” He breathes back, bringing his arms to wrap around Hajime’s back, burying his face effectively in his soft, cotton shirt and dampening it with his tears.
That night, he falls into a deep slumber with a smile on his lips, and when he wakes up, with warm rays of sunshine bathing them in its security, he sees his husband curled up next to him - where he will stay, and where their love will last.
He thinks that maybe, there is hope for them after all.