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“The Cycle Repeats” Nagito x M!Reader
“Nagito, let me go!”
You yanked your hand away from the lanky boy before you, refusing to look at the mess that was your now ex-patient.
Ex- boyfriend .
Yes, everything about the scenario was a walking HIPAA violation. Combined with the suppressed homosexuality on your end, your entire relationship with Nagito Komaeda should have been professional only. A true test to prove your Ultimate talent.
Surprisingly, it took three, long years of trying to ‘fix’ Nagito Komaeda before things inevitably fell apart—the first of which was spent finally accepting yourself before committing one of the ultimate taboos in medicine: managing to idiotically, hopelessly, fall in love with your patient.
But enough was enough. This was getting ridiculous. You figured dropping out was the only possible solution due to your massive fail at performing your talent on this troubled boy.
It was your fault to begin with, or so you convinced yourself. Yes, that’s what went wrong. You were too caring, less clinical in your analysis of him. The more he hurt, the more you did too.
And god, it killed you to see his expression when you left. What you wouldn’t give to not care, to be numb to his emotions.
“[y/n]…. [y/n], please wait, I—“
You slammed the door shut before he could finish.
He’s not my problem now… He’s not my problem now…. I did all I could and—
Who were you kidding, that boy did more damage than good to you, and apparently, you to him. He didn’t get better. He never would. You were sure of it. For his sake—and for yours, it would be best to go your separate ways. It had gone on long enough, and facing graduation meant you’d be forced to enter the real world. Your entire schooling with Hope’s Peak Academy, your future career , was at risk to crumble under his hands. This had to end.
Knowing that didn’t stop the twinge of pain from heartbreak, or the embarrassment of failure. The benefits of your personal journey facing your (ironically) subdued emotions, paled in comparison to the severe pushback Nagito garnered during his treatment under your care.
It was your fault …. Wasn’t it? You were supposed to help him . Now look at the two of you—
And hell, he still haunted you—his touch, his kiss, his words—
His manipulation .
This wasn’t healthy— neither of you were healthy at this point.
No matter. It’s not like you two got the chance to recover. Your world was turned upside down more than it already was thanks to the likes of Junko Enoshima….
‘Ultimate Psychologist.’
What a joke of a therapist you’d been.
And now it’s gotten you into this mess.
———————————
It was exciting to be recognized for your above-average talent. Well, perhaps ‘above average’ was an understatement…. Everyone at Hope’s Peak Academy displayed skills beyond their years, near masters by the measly age of fifteen.
You were no exception. Apparently, you were the best of the best in psychology, a mere teen managing to pass the normally daunting exams required to become a psychologist. This gave you your golden ticket: access to the monster of a school that stood before you on your first day….
Everything shifted, glitching out of place as you stared up at the building. Something unknown and invasive gnawed at your brain.
This….. Something wasn’t right.
This ‘exciting opportunity’ thrust you into a new hell…. On this damn island with no escape.
And yet… one person gave you a familiar, yet unknown, comfort— Nagito Komaeda. During the first few days of being on the island, he interested you the most (more so from a psychological standpoint, if any). Something about him was…. off. He seemed so friendly, and yet… he set your hairs on end. This prompted you to spend the most of your time around him, a supposed classmate of four years that you didn’t remember.
Not remembering was the worst part. Surely, if he was your classmate, you’d have examined him already. There was something about him that was important…. Something you were forgetting……..
The slightest of touches, accidental bumps… All of them felt surreal. Something was there between you two....
You just couldn’t remember.
That is, until the first death. The investigation. The outburst.
There.
That was what you were waiting for.
The worst part was that it didn’t shock you like it shocked the others. It felt…. normal, coming from him. That manipulation and desperation, the need to grasp onto anything for dear life, for self-worth—
You felt a tear roll down your cheek in that moment, immediately smearing it on your sleeve in hopes no one else in the trial saw.
That’s strange… You were usually good at keeping your emotions in check. But this …. this was different. The two of you had been through this, through him and all his deranged glory of hope and despair, of self-deprecation and building him back up again.
Yes…. He had to have been your patient… No way would you have left someone so… so seemingly far gone as him roam around, unwanted and unadvised.
By the end of the trial— the heartache, pain, and torture of watching someone die before you— was too much. Nagito Komaeda was the least of your worries.
And yet, you couldn’t think of anything else. He took control of you, that horrifying fire in his eyes….
Despite two classmates now dead, his visage kept you in a choke hold, tossing and turning in bed.
Why…. why do I care so much….?
That invasive clawing picked at the back of your brain, memories begging to be released.
He’s not my problem….
He’s NOT my problem.
You silently begged for sleep, and the reward was nothing more than the haunting image of Komeada’s drop to insanity during the trial, two classmates dead by his meddling.
Komaeda was missing the next day. You were torn between the part of you that was concerned for his health and the part that was glad he was out of sight and out of mind.
Dreariness loomed over your classmates for obvious reasons. The trauma of two people dying—close or otherwise—combined with the fear of being the next victim, notably drained the group’s morale.
Komaeda’s disappearance seemed to be a blessing in disguise; no one wanted to deal with his true colors after his outburst during the trial. Nonetheless, his whereabouts were eventually revealed when some morally obligated souls questioned Souda and Nekomaru’s guilty expressions.
By the next morning you found yourself in the Hotel Mirai’s restaurant, completely forgetting about the white-haired boy until—
“Will you take this to Komaeda?” A tray of food was thrust into your chest before you could protest. Hajime shot you an apologetic grin and stated, “Koizumi tried to get me to do it but—I—um—have to—uh—” It was obvious he was searching for an excuse.
Your curiosity (and pity for Hajime) led you to sigh, accept the tray, and ask, “Where’s he locked up….?”
Hajime’s expression immediately softened in relief, responding, “He’s in the old hotel building….” Both of you grimaced, remembering Togami’s bloodied corpse underneath the table—
Nevertheless, you sighed again and headed out, Hajime patting your back with a small “thanks, man” in gratitude.
You figured it’d be best this way. Everyone was… well… shaken up by the recent events. Being a psychologist, you were the most stable of your colleagues in emotionally straining times… or so you liked to think. This was no problem. No problem at all. After all, this was your skill, your Ultimate Talent ….
It was the heat of the tropical island making your hands clammy. Nothing more.
Everything was going to be okay, you assured yourself. You would go in there, give him his food, and walk out. No need to worry about anything. No need to pick his brain…. No need… to….
Remember. Remember him, his touch, his—
A shocking thought burrowed into your head, something locked away behind the wall of your hidden memories. Stopping abruptly, the food you carried shifted precariously to the edge of the tray.
Wait… do I…..DID I…. like Komaeda… romantically….?
You shook your head.
No… that can’t be… He probably WAS one of my patients—and I’d NEVER date a patient….
And the biggest part is that I’m not gay! Yeah, I’m not—
It was funny how long you managed to deny that fact during your time at Hope’s Peak… And now—
It took just looking at Komaeda tied and chained up on the floor to smack you in the face with a load of not only shock but a shit-ton of blushing GAY THOUGHTS as well.
Shit.
He shot you a sly smirk, “Ah, [y/n]! Are you going to feed me instead of Koizumi…?”
“F-feed you?! No way—I’m just—here to give you your food and leave!” Ultimate Psychologist? Psh, you could supposedly fix others but you couldn’t fix yourself and your stupid emotions.
Blurry memories and instincts screamed at you that this was wrong, that you should put the tray down and leave like you said you would.
So…. Why were you feeding him, exactly?
Mindlessly, you sat down next to him, listening to him chatter about pointless things. All the while, you examined his expressions.
He seemed… fine …. For now…. Things were going well… no outbursts, just Komaeda being himself….
Still, you were ready to face any manipulation from him—
Or so you thought….
“Hmm… My legs are hurting from the rope …. Hey [y/n]….? Would you mind loosening them for me….? Just a little bit?”
You cocked a brow at him, wondering what he could or would possibly do to harm you if his legs were a bit loose. Groaning, you scooted over to his legs, untying the ropes only slightly—
Smack!
Your kindness was paid with a knee kick to the gut, momentarily knocking the wind out of you.
DAMN!
So much for ‘he can’t harm me if his legs are a bit loose’ mentality. Why now of all times did you completely lack common sense!? Something something, pretty boy staring at me, something something, hard to refuse with the pitiful look in his eyes — Really not helping your mental ‘not gay’ gymnastics by bowing to the request of some guy batting his eyelashes at you.
As you recovered from the blow, he shook the ropes from his legs loose until they were completely free. Next, he slipped his handcuffed and chained wrists under his legs and back in front of him.
Komaeda gained his composure, advancing towards you with a gleam in his eye. You froze, ‘fight or flight’ a lost concept.
He would kill you. He wanted to get off the island, right? He’s going to kill you—
“Now, [y/n]—you’ve got to step up your game! To think—trash like me beating such a hope-inspiring Ultimate such as yourself?” A mischievous grin spread across his lips as he slipped off your jacket. Confusion spread across your face as you sat, frozen in place. “What? Did you think I was going to kill you? No, I wish for you Ultimates to shine in whatever way possible. Killing you wouldn’t do much if it means I am the sole survivor of our hope-filled classmates.” This scared you, but you stayed glued to the floor, questioning whether it would be best to make a run for it.
Sauntering over to the security camera, he tossed your jacket over the lens.
Your heart nearly stopped.
Was he messing with you? Why else would he cover the camera? Could Monokuma see without the cameras? Was covering them against the rules? If so, could you just wait until Monokuma popped up to punish him? Or would your death be unknown and forgotten— No, Hajime knew you were in here. People knew you were in here alone with him… right?
Your thoughts reeled as you stammered, “H-hey…! What are you doi—“
“Just giving us some privacy—“ he supplied, oddly cheery. It was nerve-wracking—each calculated, calm step he took towards you. Was he going to strangle you? Force you to choke on his leftover breakfast to make it look like an accident? What was he planning?!
The suspense nearly killed you until flight finally kicked in. You bolted towards the door before being enveloped by the chains encasing Komaeda’s arms—encasing you. Dread sunk over you as you struggled, ready to fight against what you assumed would be him trying to choke the life out of you.
Instead, he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck, sending chills down your spine. So far, no attempts were made in harming you. Instead, he just… stood there…. Motionless as his arms cradled your form.
“Komaeda….? H-how are you feeling….?” A simple question you’d asked many patients, yet your stomach twisted while you waited for his answer.
He sighed, sounding pleased, “Better….. I’m glad you came to see me.”
Brows furrowing, you questioned, “And why is that…?”
“Don’t tell me you haven’t felt… something between us, hmm? I mean, it sounds ridiculous, with me being so, well, talentless, and you—“
Exasperated, you cut hum off, “Yes, yes, Komaeda, I get it. You’re talentless, you’re lowly—is that what you want to hear?” You choked at your own words. Where had that come from? Something just snapped inside you, completely fed-up with his self-deprecating nature. That’s not…. That wasn’t the normal response you’d have with a patient displaying severe low-self esteem. So why—
We’ve gone through this before.
“Yes!” Your head whipped around, shooting him a puzzled look. He chuckled a bit, ”We’ve been through this, haven’t we? Ah, that’s just like you, [y/n]. Trying desperately to make trash like me feel better….” His face buried into your neck once again. The quiet broke with his question, “Do I scare you, [y/n]?”
Freezing up a bit, you murmured, “A bit… When you lose control.”
“Lose control?”
A heavy sigh left your lips. Perhaps he doesn’t remember his outbursts .
“N-never mind…” You wracked your brain for the right response, not wanting to set him off, “I…. I know you have good intentions. I know you do things for a reason… Even if that reason is twisted….” One more deep breath. “So… I guess now…. At this moment… I’m not scared of you….”
Awaiting his response, you were greeted with an ominous silence. Instead of speaking, he simply stood there, nose in your neck and taking comfort in your presence. You let him, hoping this was helping.
But previously, you were a drug that he clung to, practically lived on. You kept him sane and drove him mad simultaneously. Of course, neither of you were aware of the past, lead only by a hunch that things felt familiar.
Your relationship…. With Komaeda… What was it…?
You got your answer when he guided your face towards his, and you leaned in as if it was second nature.
Lips merely brushed yours before you shoved him away.
“W-what the hell?!”
Komaeda merely cocked his head innocently, “Hmm? What’s wrong?”
Words stuck together as you babbled, “I—You—That’s wrong—because you’re—patient-therapist relationships shouldn’t—“ And perhaps the most important jumble of words, “I’m not gay!”
Blankly staring at you for a bit, Komaeda’s expression suddenly turned amused as he chuckled.
“And how do you know that? Why don’t you find out right now—“
A spark. A single spark of a memory, that ‘we’ve done this before’ moment that kept appearing with each interaction with Komaeda.
Behind the school when no one was around, nearing the end of your Freshman year. You stood with Komaeda, having this very conversation when he said something similar.
‘How do you know if you’re gay or not?’
‘Have you ever kissed a boy before?’
‘Can I kiss you? Then tell me how you feel about it. It’s just like our sessions, yeah? How do you feel…..’
How… do you feel?
You feel pretty gay, that’s how you feel.
You remembered feeling ridiculous—that you were a psychologist for fuck’s sake—you knew how the human mind worked but refused to care for your own. If only you’d stopped lying to yourself sooner…..
As these thoughts flooded into your mind, you subconsciously leaned in, knowing very well that this was a bad idea, that this relationship would not work out, no matter what. Komaeda was too damaged. Your talent was fixing people. But what happens when you become stuck to the very sealant you were using to fix the problem with?
The cycle repeats.