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Four days.
It had been four days since Hajime had found the letter from Nagito’s doctor. Four days since the paper slipped right off the top shelf where Nagito typically hid things he didn’t want Hajime to find. Four days since Hajime mistakenly skimmed the letter not realizing what it was until it was too late. A total of four days that Hajime had to pretend like he didn’t know that his boyfriend was dying.
Hajime stole a glance at the taller boy stretched out in the grass beside him. The afternoon sun painted his features a soft golden hue. His lips gently mouthed the words he was scanning in a novel he’d already read three times before. Nagito’s fingers absentmindedly reached up and tucked a strand of white hair that was blowing in the light breeze behind his ear.
He didn’t look like he was dying. Rage coursed through his veins. He didn’t LOOK sick! And he wasn’t going to say anything! Was Hajime ever going to get to know that Nagito’s condition was now terminal? Or was he supposed to find that out when he had to watch the casket being lowered into the ground?
Hajime looked at him again. This time, it caught Nagito’s attention. He looked up from his book, his grey eyes lighting up when they met with Hajime’s hazel ones. Nagito offered a soft smile. Like nothing was wrong.
Hajime couldn’t stop the anger that flashed through his gaze as his eyebrows furrowed. The smile was quickly wiped off of Nagito’s face as Hajime looked away again.
Hajime could see Nagito sit up and carefully fold the corner of the page so as to not lose his place from the corner of his eyes. He heard the soft plop of the hardcover landing in the grass as a hand gently met with his back.
“What’s the matter?” Nagito traced small circles on Hajime’s back.
Hajime turned his head completely away to avoid the concerned look of his boyfriend in his peripheral.
“Hajime, please. You’ve been acting off for a couple of days now. I know something’s wrong. Please talk to me.”
There was just the tiniest hint of desperation in his voice. A scoff escaped Hajime’s throat. Please talk to him? Just like how he’s also “talking” to him? Hajime wanted to laugh and scream and cry all at once. He didn’t even know what he’d say. Apologize for snooping through private medical records (even if it was just an accident)? Hint to Nagito that certain things should not be kept secret? Or maybe just not say anything at all and let the entire situation eat away at him until he’s nothing but a shell like he had been doing already?
Hajime clenched his jaw tight as he turned back to Nagito. The fire that was burning in him was immediately put out and replaced with a dull numb feeling at the sight of him. Nagito’s eyebrows were drawn together in worry. A slight frown was on his lips. His eyes were just begging Hajime for any type of semblance of an answer. Words escaped Hajime’s mouth before he could even decide what he’d wanted to say.
“How long have you known?”
“H-huh?”
He didn’t need an actual response for him to know that Nagito knew he was in trouble. Nagito’s eyes widened for only a second. A face devoid of all emotion settled on his features as he tore his eyes away from Hajime’s and immediately started scanning the horizon.
“How long have you known , Nagito?” Hajime repeated in a much harsher tone.
Nagito looked down, finding sudden interest in the grass. Maybe he thought it would hide Hajime’s reaction if he couldn’t see it. Or maybe he shut out his own demise from his mind and Hajime just gave him a painful reminder.
“A month,” softly escaped Nagito’s lips. It was almost inaudible.
A tense silence settled between the pair. Hajime inhaled sharply, his brain processing Nagito’s response.
A month.
A month of Nagito knowing that he was on death's doorstep. Weeks and weeks on end of him hoping that he lived the best life that he could have. Nights upon sleepless nights of him worried that if he closed his eyes to sleep, that this would be the night he wouldn’t open them again. And he had to deal with this all alone.
A whole fucking month.
And he didn’t bother telling Hajime. What if something happened? Hajime would have been the one to find him. Hajime would have to relive their last moments alive together hoping that Nagito would have left knowing how much he was loved. It would have all been a surprise to Hajime, but Nagito would have been prepared for it already. He’d known for a whole fucking month.
The anger came back all at once, settling in the pit of Hajime’s stomach as the back of his eyes started to burn from tears he refused to shed.
“How dare you?”
Nagito flinched from the sudden break of silence.
“How fucking DARE you?! ” Hajime spat louder. “How could you keep something like this from me?! Were you even planning on telling me?”
“I-I was-”
“ When, Nagito? Huh? When were you going to tell me? Were you gonna tell me when I found your body somewhere in the apartment? Huh? Or- or was I going to find out when I was forced to make a speech at your funeral?” Hajime swallowed back the sob that was building in the back of his throat.
Nagito’s eyes filled with guilt. “I’m sor-”
“Who else knows, Nagito?”
Nagito’s mouth snapped shut.
“Did you tell anyone else? Does anyone know?”
He softly shook his head ‘no’ after a second. A bitter laugh escaped Hajime.
“You’re telling me that you have been dealing with this on your own for a fucking month now?”
Nagito jumped when Hajime’s fingertips met with his chin and forced him to look Hajime in the eye. Hajime’s touch was nothing but gentle as though he was afraid of breaking Nagito.
“Why?! Why would you do that to yourself?! This isn’t something that you should have been dealing with on your own! You shouldn’t have been on your own!”
Nagito squeezed his eyes shut. He desperately wished he could be anywhere but there. “I-I didn’t want you to worry.”
Hajime shakily exhaled. “Oh you didn’t want me to worry?”
Nagito shook his head. “It’s not that big of a deal-”
Nagito knew he had said the wrong thing when he heard the way Hajime gasped.
“It’s not a big deal!?”
“I didn’t mean it like-”
“HOW DARE YOU?”
Hajime let go of Nagito and scooted back, his head shaking in absolute disbelief.
“You just think you deserve this, huh? It’s not a big deal because you ‘had it coming’? That you didn’t need to tell anyone because you think no one would miss you anyways? Or any of that utter bullshit that you always used to spout?”
Nagito looked down in shame. Shame for making Hajime so upset—shame because Hajime wasn’t completely wrong.
“I know how you think, Nagito. But don’t you dare think that nobody cares about you. Don’t you fucking dare think that you deserve any of this. Not even for a fucking second.” It was getting harder and harder for him to breathe.
“Hajime, I’m sorry. ”
“You don’t deserve this, ” Hajime’s voice lowered as he choked back a sob. “You deserve nothing but nice things a-and a long, h-healthy life and-” He was beginning to hyperventilate.
The guilty look Nagito had been wearing on his face was immediately wiped away and replaced with one of concern. “Hajime-” Nagito tried to reach out for him, but Hajime leaned back just out of his reach.
“ You’re dying. ”
Four days.
Four days worth of silence and grief finally escaped Hajime. Four days worth of tears that he would swallow back at the very sight of Nagito finally came pouring down his cheeks.
He sobbed loudly. “You’re dying. O-one day I’m going to w-wake up and you’re n-not going to be-” Tears blurred his vision turning everything into a dull grey color.
The idea of a world without Nagito was terrifying. That one day, Hajime would have to carry on life without him. He’d wake up to an empty bed rather than seeing Nagito curled up under the blankets fast asleep the way he did every morning. He’d have to go throughout his day without listening to Nagito’s snide comments or the way he laughs at everything.. He’d have to live without the soft kisses that Nagito places on his forehead every night before they sleep, and the way he grins after seeing Hajime even though they’d only been apart for a couple of minutes. It would all become a new normal for Hajime—just another day. Hajime didn’t want to live in a world without him.
Hajime’s teeth started to chatter as he tried and failed to inhale. He couldn’t catch his breath. His lungs were caving in and slowly suffocating him. He closed his eyes. Surely, he was going to pass out—possibly even die, though the irony was not lost upon him.
Hajime thought he could hear Nagito calling for him, but he sounded so far away. Hajime could feel a hand on his shoulder. He didn’t bother pulling away this time.
“Hajime, stay with me.” Nagito’s voice was much closer this time.
One hand had met with the back of his head and guided him down to a shoulder while another snaked around his waist and pulled him close. He could feel a chin rest on the top of his head.
“I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.”
Hajime lost it. He threw his arms around Nagito and wailed loudly into the crook of his neck. He clenched his fists tightly to the green fabric of Nagito’s jacket, desperate to keep him there. Hajime’s body shook with every single sob, though Nagito didn’t seem to mind as he slightly rocked him.
“Breathe,” Nagito reminded Hajime calmly after he choked on another inhale. “I need you to breathe.”
“I-I c-can’t-” Hajime spoke between heavy sobs. His fingertips dug through Nagito’s clothing and into his back. If it bothered Nagito at all, he didn’t mention it.
“In through the nose, out through the mouth.” Nagito over exaggerated his own breathing in hopes that Hajime would follow.
It took a minute to calm down enough to get his breathing lined up with Nagito’s. He focused on Nagito’s fingertips gently combing through his hair, and the soft spoken apologies that fell from Nagito’s lips. It felt like hours and hours through weeping before he could breathe again, but eventually his chest loosened and he was able to get oxygen.
Nagito relaxed against him once he was breathing on his own, but he made no move to let go. Not that Hajime was in any hurry for him to let go.
Nagito’s white hair tickled Hajime’s face in the slight breeze. He smelled faintly of strawberry scented shampoo and laundry detergent—he always did. Hajime moved down and buried his head against Nagito’s chest. He could feel the steady rise and fall of his chest, Nagito’s heartbeat ringing loudly through Hajime’s ears. The last of his tears stained Nagito’s t-shirt.
“‘M sorry.” Hajime sniffled, his voice hoarse and tired.
Nagito was the first to pull away. He sat back and gently cupped Hajime’s face in his hands. His palms were warm while his fingertips were icy. Hajime moved his hands over top of Nagito’s to warm them. To keep him there.
Hajime finally allowed himself to open his eyes and look at his boyfriend. Nagito’s cheeks were stained with the few quiet tears that he’d shed while holding Hajime.
They’d sat there quietly staring at each other, silent apologies hanging in the air. Nagito was the first to break the silence, his voice soft.
“I was fourteen…”
Nagito’s fingertips fell away from Hajime’s face, much to his dismay. Nagito turned away and focused on the clouds gathering in the distance. Hajime watched as his eyes traced the shapes, as he tried to find the right words to say this time. He waited patiently for Nagito to speak again.
“… When I was first diagnosed.” Nagito finally finished. “Lymphoma. Stage four.” He spared a glance at Hajime before he looked away again. “I was only fourteen when I was told I had under a year to live… that’d I’d be ‘so lucky’ if I lived to see my fifteenth birthday.”
Hajime inhaled sharply. He’d known Nagito was ill—he was the one keeping track of Nagito’s prescriptions. But he had no idea how bad it was. Nagito didn’t like to speak much of his past and Hajime wasn’t one to pry. The medicine was keeping Nagito as healthy and functional as he could be and that was enough for Hajime.
Nagito finally turned to face him again, though his gaze was cast down at the grass. “I would wake up every single day wondering if it was my last. I was scared and… alone. ” He’d let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “I didn’t have anybody .”
The thought of a very young Nagito laying in a hospital bed and counting down his days broke Hajime’s heart. That he’d spent what was supposed to be the best years of his life wasting away all alone. Dealing with something so grown up all on his own.
“Nagito…” Hajime had no idea what to say. He wanted to apologize that he had to go through that. Apologize for how poorly he reacted.
Nagito simply shook his head. Hajime snapped his mouth shut. Nagito finally looked up at him, a reassuring smile playing on his lips, though the gloss forming in his eyes was betraying him.
“But you know what?”
Hajime let out a quiet “hmm” as Nagito pulled him down so they were both lying comfortably in the grass.
“I woke up one day and I was fifteen.” Nagito wrapped his arm around Hajime as Hajime settled against Nagito’s chest. “And I lived to see sixteen and seventeen and eighteen. It has always been ‘one more year.’”
Hajime clung to Nagito as though his words just jinxed him and sealed his fate to die right then and there. Nagito gently squeezed his shoulder to remind him that he was okay.
“I was fourteen when I was told my condition was terminal and yet, here I am at twenty-two. The only difference between then and now is that I’m… I’m not alone.”
“Then why didn’t you tell anyone what was going on?” Hajime tried to argue, but his voice came out exhausted and quiet.
“I… I’ve never had anyone. And I know that I’m most likely going to outlive this death sentence as well. Why am I going to worry everyone over… nothing? It’s not a big deal.”
Hajime closed his eyes tightly. “But what if this was the one? What if you died this time and I found-” His chest started to ache all over again as his grip on Nagito tightened. “I can’t live without you, Nagito-”
“Hey.” Nagito maneuvered them so they were on their sides, noses pressed together. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise you, it’s not this time.”
“How do you know that?” Hajime croaked. The rawness of his throat was finally catching up to him.
“ Because ,” Nagito whispered, brushing Hajime’s hair off his forehead to place a soft kiss, “my luck won’t allow it.”
Hajime clicked his tongue. He hated that Nagito put all his faith and trust into a mentality that Hajime was trying to put an end to. He hated the fact that Nagito was probably right even more.
“Besides!” A playful tone seeped into Nagito’s voice as he closed his eyes and rolled onto his back to soak in the warm sun. “I’m probably going to outlive all of you at this point anyways.”
Hajime snapped up to see a smirk adorning Nagito’s face. He nudged his shoulder. “You can’t say that!”
Nagito cracked an eye open to look at Hajime. “Well? It’s true! ”
Hajime huffed in response, though he couldn’t hide the smile that was forcing its way on his face. He settled back into the grass and studied his face. He burned every freckle and wrinkle into his memory. And the way his messy, white hair somehow still framed his face perfectly. And the way his pale eyelashes looked against his flushed cheeks. Hajime never wanted to forget him.
Hajime moved so that he was back over Nagito’s chest. His heartbeat rang against his ears and he finally allowed himself to fully relax. Nagito was here and alive . The exhaustion finally crept up on him as his eyes fluttered closed. He’d been almost completely asleep when Nagito had spoken again.
“I’ll always be with you, you know.”
Hajime cracked an eye open wearily and peered up at Nagito. Nagito was staring straight in the sky, lost in thought.
“Whether you like it or not,” Nagito continued after a second, readjusting himself so he could look at Hajime properly.
Hajime rubbed the sleep and dried tears from his eyes. “How will I know?” His voice was almost inaudible and he wasn’t sure if it was from the exhaustion or if he just didn’t want Nagito to hear him.
Nagito pressed their foreheads together. His grey eyes stared deeply into Hajime’s hazel eyes as his fingers mindlessly searched the grass behind him. He plucked at the blades blindly, and pressed whatever it was into Hajime’s palm without giving it a second glance.
“I’ll be wherever these are.”
Hajime glanced down and gave a tired laugh. “You are such an asshole, you know that? I’m horrific at finding these things, Nagito!”
Nagito couldn’t help the small giggle he tried to suppress as he offered Hajime a small shrug. “You’re just going to have to get better at it, I guess.”
Hajime rolled his eyes, holding up the four-leaf clover that Nagito handed him in the sun. He examined it for a moment. “… You promise?”
Nagito hummed softly. “Promise what, my love?”
“That you’ll always be with me.”
“Oh, whether you like it or not!” he reiterated as he held up a pinky that Hajime wrapped his own around.
He leaned in and pressed a small kiss against Nagito’s soft lips. “I love you so much.”
“I love you so much more,” Nagito whispered back.
Hajime settled back down onto him and closed his eyes again. He wouldn’t tell Nagito how for once in his life, he selfishly wished that he was right about his luck cycle. Because for a moment, everything was fine. Everything would be fine.
————
Grass, grass, grass.
Hajime was hunched over in the field. He mindlessly dug through the blades desperately, his knuckles coated with a thin layer of dirt. A breeze picked up, sending chills down his spine. He adjusted the green jacket, his eyes flitting to the dark grey sky for a moment before he continued his search. He’d have to be mindful of the incoming storm.
Grass, grass, grass.
Smell is the strongest of the five senses. You can recall a scent from any memory just by thinking about it. The sickly sweet scent of strawberry shampoo and laundry detergent permeated the air around Hajime and stuck to the inside of his nostrils. He wanted to throw up.
Grass, grass, grass.
A fresh set of tears started blurring his hazel eyes. He shut his eyes in an attempt to keep them from falling down his already tear-stained face. And for a second, he allowed himself to play pretend.
Nagito would be sitting next to him, sprawled in the grass finishing another book. He’d be mouthing the words just loud enough that Hajime could make sense of them. Hajime would ask how it is, and Nagito would carefully fold over the page to keep his place and excitedly tell Hajime every single detail about what he’s read so far. Of course, Hajime has no clue what he’s going on about, nor will he find himself truly invested, but he’d get to listen to Nagito’s voice again.
A sob escaped Hajime’s lips. He clamped a dirty hand over his mouth, the slight taste of grass and mud seeping through his lips and onto his tastebuds. His other fist clenched into the dirt as another sob escaped him.
He could almost hear Nagito teasing him now. “ Are you really crying over someone like me, Hajime? Oh to be so lucky! ”Hajime couldn’t help but laugh bitterly at the thought.
Grass, grass, grass.
Nagito and his damn luck. He was convinced that he was absolutely invincible. He’d declare that he would outlive his friends—that his luck will keep him alive until the end of time. At the time, Hajime almost believed it. He wanted so badly to believe it. But the great Nagito Komaeda could not live up to his promises of immortality.
He succumbed to his illness after three years.
Three years should have been plenty of time for Hajime to prepare for the inevitable. He’d known it was coming. But he’d selfishly hoped that Nagito’s luck cycle would keep him alive. That every single terminal label slapped at the bottom of the yearly notes was just a suggestion and not a warning. He’d known when the last letter came and in place of reassurance that this wasn’t the year either, Nagito gave him a tired smile because he was done fighting.
Grass, grass, grass.
Hajime wept. He wept and then felt disgusting for weeping. All of Nagito’s friends were gathered at the local church saying their final goodbyes and Hajime was grieving selfishly on his own, refusing to say goodbye because he knew it would be the last. He knew that Nagito would be so disappointed in him if he were there.
It wasn’t like Hajime didn’t attempt to attend the funeral. He made it as far as parking in the parking spot furthest away from the building. He’d never made it out of his car though. He watched his friends huddle together, sharing their condolences through tears. Some were giggling at funny memories that they were sharing. He watched as they prepared to go in and see Nagito one last time. But Hajime was too selfish.
Instead he tore out of the parking lot and sped towards the field that they’d always sit at. He was too selfish to say goodbye to Nagito as he sat there sifting through the grass. He was so desperate to find any sign of Nagito. Nagito was so good about keeping promises. But of course, this one was a dumb fucking promise. Hajime had never been good at finding four-leaf clovers.
Grass, grass, grass.
Nagito was gone for good.
Grass, grass, grass.
Hajime refused to accept it.
Grass, grass, grass.
Grass, grass, grass.
Hajime screamed in frustration as he ripped his hands out of the grass, a small clump being pulled out with them. He balled his fists tight and looked up at the grey sky, another scream ripping through his throat.
“I hate you! Do you hear me, Komaeda?! I fucking HATE YOU!” His voice echoed through the empty field. “You promised me!” he tearfully seethed. “You pinky swore! You swore and I told you t-that I couldn’t- I can’t find them like you! I told you and you PROMISED ME!”
He collapsed into himself, his knees drawing up to his chest. He screamed and yelled and cried until his voice was raw and there was nothing left in him besides the tears that endlessly flowed down his cheeks.
He threw himself onto his back completely winded and looked up into the sky. His throat hurt. His chest hurt. Everything hurt.
Hajime was so angry. Angry at Nagito for making such stupid selfish promises that he knew couldn’t be kept and then dying. Angry at himself for thinking he’d had any right to be angry at Nagito at all. Nagito hadn’t done anything wrong besides try to comfort his boyfriend in the only way he knew how.
Hajime watched the dark clouds swirl in as a numb feeling took over. It came as such a relief for Hajime.
“I’m sorry.” Hajime rasped out at the sky. “I don’t hate you. I could never hate you. I just… I miss you more than anything.”
He’d laid there, a part of him hoping to hear Nagito answer him back. Maybe laugh at how silly he was for screaming. Maybe even scream back. He was treated to the same deafening silence he’d entered the field in.
A raindrop landed on his cheek. Then another. And another. There was no warning or mercy from the downpour that started. Hajime reluctantly sat up. He knew he’d have to leave. If he got sick, Nagito might resurrect just to kill Hajime himself. Not that Hajime would complain.
Hajime threw the hood over his head and fiddled with the zipper of Nagito’s jacket as though the already soaked garment would protect him from the rain or keep him warm. He’d become acutely aware of just how cold he actually was and of all the dirt and grass that was stuck in between his fingers. His nose wrinkled in annoyance.
He stayed seated in the rain to pick off each grass blade. If you were to ask him, he’d say it was because he didn’t want to track it into his car. He’d never admit it was to buy himself time to scan the field in between each removed piece. He switched to his other hand, his eyes widening as he finally unclenched that fist.
He couldn’t help but snort in utter disbelief, joyous laughter escaping him.
In the center of his palm was a four-leaf clover.