Chapter Text
Komaeda stared at the ceiling, waiting for his inevitable death.
It was funny, really. Every cell in his body had been screeching in agony just a few minutes ago, as he had dug the knife into his legs and arms. But now, nothing hurt at all. The pain had faded to a dull throbbing, and Komaeda felt numb.
(He was fully aware that medically speaking, this was not a good thing.)
The traitor would throw the bottle. The bottle would break. He would inhale the fumes and die. The Ultimate Despair would be extinguished, and the traitor would be home free.
He could feel himself grin under the duct tape.
The death of despair, for the sake of hope… it was beautifully poetic.
He idly wondered who the traitor was.
Not Souda.
Probably not Owari or Kuzuryu.
And obviously, Hinata was-
Hinata.
He remembered his wry smirk, how he always smelt of chestnuts and citrus.
He remembered all those hours spent with him- on the beach, near the cottages, even in the funhouse.
He remembered the way that his heart had raced every time he saw him, how his palms had felt uncomfortably sweaty.
He remembered unveiling his past, then attempting to pass it off as a lie to evade his sympathy.
From the bottom of my heart… I’m truly in love with the hope that sleeps inside you.
Komaeda screwed his eyes shut.
God… he was so impressionable. Just a few hours spent together in total, and he deluded himself into thinking he had fallen in love with a piece of reserve course trash.
Obviously, he wasn’t one to talk, but still.
Perhaps it was fate’s clever joke on him. Falling for someone who he had perceived as a true vessel of hope, only to find out that he was just as worthless as Komaeda.
Well, it wasn’t fate’s only joke at his expense. Komaeda should probably be grateful trash like him was getting this much attention.
You’re not trash, Komaeda.
Hinata’s voice suddenly rang through his head, his earnest gaze seared in the front of his mind.
…
Pre-motrem hallucinations were so interesting.
Suddenly, a series of shattering noises were made, and Komaeda could feel the putrid scent of poison make its way through his lungs.
The last thing Komaeda felt was an acidic sensation bubbling in his throat, everything fading away.
And suddenly, Komaeda was standing in front of Hope’s Peak Academy.
All of his wounds had vanished, the sensations of death were gone.
And he remembered everything.
Two years of schooling. Enoshima Junko. Kamukura Izuru. Nanami’s death. Falling into despair. The Neo World Program.
Komaeda looked up, and down, and left, and right, but nothing changed.
He had come back to life, regained his memories, and was now standing in front of Hope’s Peak- which was not burnt to the ground, and in fact, looked like quite a nice piece of architecture at the moment.
Komaeda wasn’t prone to profanity, but he figured an exception in this case wouldn’t hurt.
“What the fuck?” He whispered, with a frozen smile on his face.