Archive of Our Own

A lot of dramatic events have happened to Nagito Komaeda’s life, but what’s in front of his eyes could probably make it to one of the top five. 

It was well past midnight on a snowy night. The whole town was quiet, lit up with only a few warm-coloured street lamps, and the only thing that kept Komaeda awake was the occasional insomnia that he acquired after being left alone again. Although, in hindsight, he should thank his insomnia because that was also the only thing that allowed him to hear the faint knocking on his door. The sound was so faint he thought he was hallucinating again, and it stopped after only two knocks. Normally, Komaeda would not have been bothered enough to check such indistinct sounds. He lived in a suburban area after all, sometimes small branches and stones caught in the wind would also cause knocking sounds on his door or windows. Even if he couldn’t sleep, he still wanted to stay in his warm bed—but as he lay there with his eyes open, something about those knocks just kept compelling him to go check his door. 

Eventually Komaeda gave in and dragged his body across his large, empty house to the front door. And he saw Hajime Hinata, collapsed on his doorstep, eyes shut and covered by snow, and breathing. Hajime Hinata, the person he cared about the most on the planet, whom he hadn’t seen in three years and hadn’t heard from in two and a half and thought was going to lose forever for sure. 

Everything changed since the war started, the war that stripped all the world’s vibrant colours away from his life.

Six years ago, Komaeda thought maybe, just maybe, his life and his artistic career could finally have some saturated colours at the corners. He had gone to Kazuichi Soda’s shop on that fateful day to collect the broken easel that he had Soda fix for him. At age 23, Komaeda was already able to hold a solo exhibit of his paintings in his town—something he never thought his dull and unprofessional work could achieve, even after finishing art school. 

“‘Youngest artist to ever hold a solo exhibit in town!’ Not the lowly Servant you thought you’d be huh? But I gotta say man, however crazy you might seem, this is some impressive stuff.” Soda said while holding the latest newspaper.

Soda was the only person Komaeda could say he personally knew in the town. Back when Komaeda first moved here, he had a lot of trouble moving his belongings because his suitcases and ropes that held things together kept breaking down. Soda saw his struggles on his way to work and offered a helping hand. Komaeda was amazed by his skills as a mechanic and later often went to his shop to say hi when he came to town. They have grown close, although Komaeda found it very obvious that Soda always found him creepy—but he was still willing to talk to me, how hopeful! He often thought. 

Because of reasons like that, Soda was also the only person who knew Komaeda worked under the alias Servant—a servant to art and humanity and the absolute hope that shines so bright that it will be the inspiration of everyone forever. Not that he wanted to keep it low profile, someone as incompetent as he was probably wouldn’t make his name big even if he tried. The main reason was that back in his hometown people already associated his name with bad luck and craziness to the point that even though he thought he deserved some of that degradation, it became too much for him to stand. So he sold almost everything and sent himself to art school with the money he inherited from his parents’ tragic death, self-teaching, and a whole bunch of luck. He always had some luck he could rely on, although with the consequence of bad luck that normal people couldn’t even imagine. 

Komaeda didn’t expect his luck to make him popular in this town though. In hindsight it was good that he used an alias, he already needed to deal with the extra money he earned as well as the back pain and broken easels; he didn’t want to also deal with the inconveniences of being even remotely famous. He didn’t want to be famous either, he was definitely not worthy of popularity. But for some reason he got popular, so he thought he’d still respond to the people’s wishes by holding cheap solo exhibits, despite his opinion being that he was probably the most overrated artist of all time.

“Thank you, Soda-kun, it really came as a surprise to me as well that I was able to accomplish such achievements. Komaeda smiled, “thank you for repairing the easel too, I’ve left the compensation over there on the counter.”

Soda often offered to help him for free, but Komaeda believed it was appropriate to always leave some compensation, which often ended up being a pile of coins way more than the amount Soda would typically charge others.

“I told you you don’t need to…but if you insist then I’ll take it.” It was genuine, but Soda couldn’t suppress a smile. Like most other people and unlike Komaeda, Soda would gladly take money offered to him. “Do you not worry that one day you’d run out of money though? Like if you suddenly run into an emergency? I suppose you can keep painting or even reveal yourself to your name when it comes to that. Mr. Komaeda the Servant, that could probably give you even more money.” 

“Thanks for the concern, I don’t think I’d need to worry about that within my current life expectancy, unless I’ve made some grave mistakes in my budgeting plans.” Soda's face twitched slightly at that sentence. “Also, I would appreciate it if we don’t talk about my alias in such an…open and public place where it is expected that anyone can walk in at any time and hear us, since currently I don’t—”

Right in the middle of that sentence, someone walked—no, ran inside Soda’s shop, and Komaeda didn’t know if the person heard them.

But that was no longer important. The moment Komaeda’s gaze turned towards the door and focused on Soda's new customer, like a glitch in his visual system, Komaeda felt the world just became slightly brighter and more saturated in colour for a split second. Normal people would probably not even notice it, but Komaeda was sensitive enough to colours after having worked with them for more than ten years and now in a professional capacity. 

He stood on the side and watched with interest as the stranger with green eyes and chestnut-coloured spiky hair hurriedly brought out a wall clock, told Soda about its issues, and asked him to fix it. While Soda was taking a quick inspection, he nervously glanced around and politely nodded to Komaeda when he saw him on the side. Komaeda was caught by surprise but managed to nod back. After Soda announced that it was fixable and he could come to pick it up any time after tomorrow, the stranger thanked Soda and quickly ran away while shouting back that he was running late for work. 

After the stranger left, there was a moment of silence as Soda wrote down the order, and Komaeda was lost in thought. Eventually, he asked Soda if he knew the guy who just came in.

“You mean Hajime? Oh yeah of course I know him, we’ve known each other since we were like twelve, wait that makes it around ten years! I gotta tell him that when I see him next time. Hajime Hinata, pretty nice guy, but also pretty busy, writes and edits things for the Weekly News. Why?”

“Oh nothing, I just thought he looked kind of familiar, but now I’m sure I’ve never seen him before. Thanks for everything, I need to go too before it’s too late, see you later Soda-kun!”

He hired a horse carriage and left for his home in the suburbs, but couldn’t stop thinking about Hinata. The second last sentence he told Soda wasn’t exactly a lie. Not only was the “glitch” in his vision when he first saw Hinata interesting, but looking at him also gave him a familiar feeling. It was the same feeling he had when he occasionally saw strange visions throughout his life. The same visions that inspired many of his paintings, the same visions that made others in his hometown think he was out of his mind when he told them about them as a young and naive child. 

None of that made sense though. Normal people don’t just hallucinate about random things, and Komaeda saw the most random things in his visions. Once he saw a building that looked like a parliament building but definitely not one he had seen before, another time he saw a gallows from afar, and the vision that led to his favourite painting was someone riding a saddle-less horse on a seaside beach in front of a sunset. The visions were all quite desaturated and gone within a blink; he could sense or see that there was someone next to him in all the visions but could never see who.

But somehow all of them felt important.

Eventually Komaeda figured that it would be a good idea to paint his visions out. He drew what he saw but excluded the people and made it even less saturated and abstract than the way he saw them. Ironically, people liked his visions in painting when they didn’t know they were just a crazy man’s hallucinations.

Apart from the shock of seeing Hinata at his doorstep, Komaeda’s first reaction was to pull him inside. He tried, but his imperfect body proved it impossible. He sighed at the stump of his arm, unable to really grab anything, then ran back inside to put on the wooden prosthetic arm Soda had made him. Then, after multiple attempts to flip Hinata to make him lie on his back and another twenty minutes of dragging, Komaeda was finally able to drag Hinata all the way to his bedroom—the only room with both a bed and enough blankets to not freeze at night. 

What a reunion. Wasn’t this supposed to be a lot more emotional? Seeing your friend finally coming back alive and in one piece after getting drafted? Komaeda was fully prepared to never hear from Hinata ever again, but what he currently has was so good that he could start laughing.

However, standing next to his bed with an unconscious man on the ground, Komaeda felt a hint of despair. The man was shorter but heavier than him and was wrapped in multiple layers of clothing. He decided to remove Hinata’s wool cap first, and oh, he was having a high fever. Alas, all the more reason to get him under a blanket as soon as possible. Not before removing at least his outer layers of clothes though, god knows where this man had been, and Komaeda had his standards with cleanliness.

After another twenty minutes of attempting to manhandle Hinata, Komaeda finally got him onto his bed and tucked him in. He had pulled Hinata into a sitting position right next to his bed first, then pulled up his upper body and pushed him halfway onto the bed, and pushed his legs up at last. A course of action harder to carry out than planned, mainly because he only had one hand capable of grabbing something as big as a person’s limbs tightly. During the entire process, he thought Hinata would be woken up but he wasn’t. Actually, it would be a whole lot easier to get him up if Hinata did wake up.

Something like that happened six years ago too, the pulling part. It’s just that back then he still had both hands functional.

It would be lying to say Komaeda wasn’t interested in knowing more about Hinata after that first encounter. The next time he came to town, he made sure to get some of the Weekly News papers, both the latest issue and a couple of old publications he could find. To his disappointment, he found Hinata’s writing to be quite mediocre. Far from the hopeful beings Komaeda was looking for in life. Maybe it has to do with the fact that he was writing about boring events that might be assigned to him by the corporation? For some reason, Komaeda found his brain defending the man he barely knew. Whatever the reason that Hinata wrote in a boring way, Komaeda was no longer really interested in finding out. He didn’t really need to know Hinata; he’s already got enough in life to deal with, plus he was just having a neutral view of his visions and everything related to them, considering what they brought him.

How lucky. Or how unlucky. As Komaeda threw out the newspapers and started to walk out from his usual place deep in his go-to bookstore, he saw the Hajime Hinata whose work he was just reading. 

In the distance, Hinata was browsing books near the top racks, alongside a short little girl also looking at the same shelf. The little girl talked to Hinata and pointed to the top rack, and Komaeda watched as Hinata reached up, picked the book the girl wanted, and handed it to her. He went back to looking at the top rack with a frown as the little girl hopped away. Right at that moment, a whole bunch of books near where he just removed one fell onto him, and he lost balance while avoiding the attack of the falling heavy, hard-cover books.

There was barely anyone else around, so Komaeda walked up and helped him. 

He used his back-then-still-complete left hand to pull Hinata up.

They put all the books that fell back onto the shelf together, and Komaeda realized that they were all bird-related books, the type with illustrations on every other page. 

“Thank you so much for the help,” Hinata said as he brushed dust off his coat. “Oh—wait, you're the guy at Kazuichi’s shop last weekend! Good to see you again.”

Pretending he also just noticed, Komaeda replied, “Oh you’re the guy with the broken clock right? Soda-kun mentioned that you’re his friend.”

“Yeah you too? I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” Hinata said with a polite smile.

“I’m just an acquaintance of Soda-kun’s, he has helped me with a bunch of stuff. I don’t really come here that often.”

“I see. Nice to meet you, I’m Hajime Hinata by the way.” He held out a hand.

“Nagito Komaeda,” Komaeda smiled back and shook his hand. “You’re…into birds?” He said while gesturing towards the books they just picked up. He always had some sort of soft spot for birds, maybe because they didn’t seem to be deterred by him.

“Ahhh…not really. It's for a personal project, something I’m writing about, but I don’t know much about birds or how a lot of them look like, and I don’t have time to go birdwatching either…I want to learn more about birds in general too, so I thought I should get myself a reference. Although…” He winced as he picked one of the thick books from the top rack and ran his fingers along the spine, “I didn’t know these books and encyclopedias were this expensive…maybe I’ll just figure out something else instead…”

Komaeda stared at the book. It looked familiar. Very familiar. “Quite coincidentally…I have this exact book you’re holding at home. If you really want to have a read, I could potentially let you borrow it?”

Hinata blinked in disbelief, “is that okay—are you sure? That would be really helpful! Thank you so much!”

“Of course! If it’s going to help you find the hope in completing your work. It’s just that I live relatively far from here and only come to town for the market sometimes. I can give it to you next weekend, where do you want to meet? Perhaps here? The park nearby? Or I can also drop it off at Soda-kun’s shop if the time’s not convenient for you.”

“...I think Kazuichi’s shop would be best.” Hinata pursed his lips, “Unfortunately I have to work the entire weekend next week…and I still haven’t picked up my clock from him yet, so maybe I’ll get them together.”

Soda was right, busy man indeed.

Having settled the unconscious man, Komaeda took a quick inspection to make sure he wouldn’t die in the house in the next few hours before the sun rises, and he could realistically go seek medical attention. Fortunately, Hinata’s breath was slow and steady and didn’t seem to be in any pain; all his limbs were intact, and there didn’t seem to be any obviously broken bones or open wounds. There was a concerningly long wound across the side of his head, most of which was covered under his hair, but the only condition he currently seemed to have was the fever.

Maybe he’s just collapsed from being too tired, and now he’s just sleeping. Thank whatever higher beings there could be. His Hinata came back from a war and somehow still seemed healthier than Komaeda ever was. This was too good to be true. He was scared that Hinata would wake up and tell him he actually got diagnosed with stage three malignant lymphoma and frontotemporal dementia and came to say goodbye. 

There was a non-zero chance that it would happen, but maybe he should first make sure Hinata’s fever didn’t worsen, Komaeda thought as he walked all around his house again to get water, medication, and a towel. He dampened the towel and placed it on Hinata’s forehead, then put a glass of water and the medication on the nightstand next to Hinata. He debated whether to wake Hinata up to take the medication and decided to at least try to. He really tried, but Hinata didn’t wake up. Having once again made sure he was breathing normally, Komaeda ended up leaving the meds on the nightstand and sighed. Usually it wasn’t like this; it was always Hinata taking care of Komaeda. Although the first time Hinata did it was a bit funny.

Komaeda had left his book about birds at Soda's, along with a note to tell Hinata that he could give it back to Soda whenever he was done, since Komaeda didn’t need it now. He then got a bad cold the week after. Soda later told him that Hinata tried to give back the book while Komaeda was sick and wasn’t coming to town, so he told Hinata he could keep the book for longer. Hinata did. The following weekend, when Komaeda finally got better, came back to town, and paid a visit to Soda’s shop, by pure chance, he ran into Hinata in the shop again.

Hinata handed him not only the book but also a small bottle of home-made syrup. He told Komaeda that he thought he should give something back out of gratitude and made the syrup because Komaeda was sick; his home remedy worked really well for coughs.

“...and I just really want to say thank you, that book was cooler than I thought and helped a lot,” Hinata added, slightly nervously for some reason.

Komaeda couldn’t help but let out a chuckle.

“What, y-you don’t like it?” 

“Oh um, first of all thank you for the concern, and don’t worry about the book, but you do realize that I’d only be able to see you or Soda-kun and get this when I no longer need the syrup right?” Hinata went red. “Also I indeed don’t really like sweet things.” 

He slightly regretted saying that right after he did, because Hinata frowned at his words, the corner of his lips dropped and he just looked really sad. “Oh okay sorry I didn’t—”

“But it’s okay, like I said I really appreciate your concern! You really didn’t need to do this.” Komaeda hurriedly tried to make up for what he said. “It’s the first time in sixteen years someone cared about me enough to do something like this, I’ll just keep it for later, thanks!” 

Brows still furrowed, Hinata pouted, “Alright.” Cute.

The next time Komaeda visited Soda's shop, just to say hi and let Soda know he was still alive, Soda told him Hinata had something else to give him. 

“Jeez, can’t you two figure out somewhere else to meet and hand each other things? I feel like a pigeon delivering your words and stuff.”

Surprised, Komaeda took the pouch from Soda. He thought Hinata would want nothing to do with him after what he told Hinata about the syrup. 

The pouch had a note attached on the outside that said “thanks for the book again, it was very useful, I hope you like these.” He opened the pouch, it was full of homemade mini pretzels. Komaeda had never had pretzels like that. He took one out and took a bite; it was surprisingly tasty, with a nice blend of hardness and saltiness.

“Here, you should take some too, as compensation.” He smiled and held the pouch towards Soda, who took one and widened his eyes in approval after having a bite. 

“Was Hinata-kun always good at baking or cooking?” 

“Mmmph…not too sure, I didn’t even know he could bake at all, but his cooking is…well just enough to keep himself alive.”

“Hehe, I see. Is he always stubborn then?”

“Oh, he can be quite stubborn, not in a bad way though. The book you gave him must be really important, he never baked me anything! But look, if you want to learn more about him, you should go talk to him and not spy from my end. Although I couldn’t have imagined you two out of everyone I know are becoming friends.” Soda crossed his arms as he finally finished that pretzel.

“Right, right, sorry if I’m bothering you and your precious time so much. Do you happen to know where I can find him then?”

“Uhhh I don’t know where he lives now, I just know the general area he lives in. I know his work address, but I don’t know if he works today. His schedule was always weird. You could try your luck there before you go back home.”

After thanking Soda, Komaeda went to the Weekly News main office. The autumn wind blew his curly hair into straight strands parallel to the ground as he rang the bell and knocked for a good fifteen minutes, but no one answered. Hm, maybe they don’t work today, Komaeda thought as he was about to leave. As he walked past the windows on the side of the building, he saw a big group of people through the glass, arguing very heatedly, including Hinata. 

Oh well, probably not a good idea to talk anyway. It’s okay, neither of them was going anywhere, there was always going to be a next time. Komaeda went home with the wind blowing in his eyes, but his heart was warm with the pouch of pretzels he was holding tightly to his chest.

He wrote Hinata a letter later that day, to his work address, to thank him for the pretzels. 

“...they tasted amazing. You really didn’t have to do it and waste time on people like me, especially since I’m already keeping the syrup too. If I can be of any help, I have a lot of books, especially nature encyclopedias and books on art and philosophy. If you need a book on these topics, you can try asking me first, and if I have it you’re welcome to borrow it. I wanted to go through Soda-kun again but he already finds me annoying; I also only know your work address and don’t know where you would be when I’m in town, hence why I'm writing this letter. I hope this won't be too much trouble for you at work. 

Yours sincerely,

Nagito Komaeda”

To Komaeda’s content, Hinata soon wrote back to ask if he had any books about different landscapes, preferably illustrated as well, and included a large piece of cheese in the package. He hesitated at the size of the cheese, eventually decided to send two large landscape books and reminded Hinata through a note to only pay after he gets what he wants next time. Hinata also included his own address, so Komaeda was able to avoid sending his package to his workplace again.

Hinata had told him later that he got quite concerned when he received Komaeda’s first letter at work, as he thought it was going to be a harassment or complaint letter. A very fitting and reasonable expectation for someone like him, Komaeda had thought, but he would prefer not to have his intentions mistaken, so he was relieved when Hinata also told him he was happy after reading what he wrote.

Similar interactions by mail happened throughout that winter. For the first time in years, Komaeda had something to look forward to through the cold and quiet winter, during which he rarely exited his house unless necessary. He was used to being alone, and to some extent, the winter isolation gave him better concentration and inspiration for his work. He wasn’t easily bored either, there were always more books to read at home. However, to be regularly talking to someone and receiving surprise packages just brought something fuller, something warmer to his life. Although Komaeda would still categorize their relationship as transactional, it was a pleasant transactional relationship, unlike the relationships with those who spoke like they obviously wanted to steal his art. Their letters started to get longer and longer, and went from just polite exchanges of demand and supply to complaints about the weather to the little things in life. Komaeda learned that all the books Hinata wanted were for writing a small fictional piece; he initially just wanted to casually learn more details so he could better craft his work, but since he couldn’t afford those printed details in the long term, he was planning to resort to whatever was reasonable that he could think of. With Komaeda’s help, he began to feel like a kid spoiled with knowledge. Somehow, the books Komaeda sent him always included the information or images that he was looking for, how lucky.

Komaeda was more than happy to help; the hope and excitement from finally finding out something Hinata wanted to learn, irradiated from those thank-you letters and the nicely-wrapped “payments”, were almost irresistible. When was the last time someone appreciated his help so much? He just hoped that Hinata wrote better fiction than newspaper articles. 

Then, spring came faster than any of the previous springs, and really naturally, Hinata had invited him to meet up, drink tea, and just finally chat in person again. Judging from the number of books that Hinata requested and Komaeda just happened to have, they should have a lot to talk about together, so Komaeda agreed.

And they indeed had a lot to talk about together. Eventually, the conversation stretched to their personal lives. Hinata was excited when he learned that Komaeda was a painter and mainly painted abstract landscapes.

“I don’t really know about art, but a while ago I helped report on that popular art exhibit of the Servant’s and their landscape art looked amazing.”

“Haha, really.” Komaeda felt like he didn’t like where it was going, although he just actively told Hinata what he did for a living.

“Yeah, for some reason they felt…comforting? Familiar even, they just make me happy.”

“I’m sure the artist would be happy to hear that no matter what their intention was." Familiar? That was the last thing Komaeda expected anyone to say about his art. He didn’t even find many of his paintings familiar, especially the very abstract ones and the ones inspired by his visions. Hinata was probably talking about the more general landscapes he made. Definitely couldn’t be the painting of the gallows or the parliament-like building that didn’t even look like it was from this era or the horse on the beach, who living in such a small and unimportant town so far away from any large water body would find them familiar?

“Oh are you saying the artist could very well have other intentions? In that case I wouldn’t be able to tell.” Hinata smiled embarrassingly while scratching his face.

“Maybe, we never know.”

“What do you think of the Servant’s art by the way? From an artist’s perspective?”

“They’re kind of bad.” Komaeda accidentally let his true feelings out without thinking, but decided that they weren’t going to out him. “...not to say I’m better than them at all or that I’m in any position remotely close to criticizing them, but there’s a lot of room for improvement, such as a lot of the choices of the shadows’ angles and the hue of the colours. Also, why is their art always so unsaturated? I understand that it’s the personal style, but not releasing a single painting where the colours are saturated feels like they’re always sitting in their comfort zone and not being courageous with the colours.”

“Oh—I see…I mean, I don’t really feel that, but I guess it makes sense…”

“Let’s stop talking about my valueless artistic input, I don’t mean to let my rambles affect your enjoyment of art. What do you do outside work? You were writing something about nature right?”

“Yeah…it’s nothing too serious, I was just writing for fun, although it’s not really fun when your job is also to write things.”

“What kind of fiction are you writing?”

“I’d say adventure fiction, the nature part is mostly a complement and just important in the current segment, but I really don’t know much about it so I thought I’d find books to read.” 

“Interesting. If you need someone to double-check this segment or your work in general, I’d be glad to help. I’ve read all those books in my house so many times, but I don’t have many opportunities to apply them.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind. You really sound like you read a lot.”

“Yeah, it’s not like I had much else to do after my parents died.”

“Oh! Oh I’m sorry I didn’t know…” Hinata’s eyes widened.

“It’s fine, I’ve gotten used to it, it’s been sixteen years.”

“So you live alone now? In the suburbs?”

“Yeah. Although I’ve only recently moved there, after I finished art school.”

“I see…sorry about that. You’re welcome to come over to my place and have some tea if you want, on the weekends.”

“Thanks, but I think I better not. I bring bad luck to people if I get too close to them. I appreciate the offer though.” Komaeda looked wistfully at the trees with sprouting branches across from them before returning his gaze to Hinata. “Also, it’s getting late, I should be getting going before it’s too dark and cold. Thanks for talking to me, it was the first time I’ve had such a long conversation with someone else in years.”

Instead of going back to sleep like he planned to, Komaeda found himself sitting next to the unconscious (sleeping?) Hinata and just staring at him. The room was very quiet, as it always was, but it felt more empty than it usually did, even though now there were two people inside. It almost began stressing Komaeda out—how much he wished that Hinata could wake up right there and look at him with those swamp green eyes that are somehow so much more vibrant than they should be.

The next time Komaeda heard from Hinata, Hinata had invited him by letter to meet in the park near the bookshop they had met in before to read over the “nature-heavy segments” he wrote. 

They sat on a bench together, bathed in the warm spring wind, and Hinata handed him the pile of manuscripts with excitement. Komaeda was a bit surprised at the length of the “segment”, and Hinata admitted that it was almost the entire work because after reading the books, he was able to write a lot more about the details of the nature involved.

Komaeda read it over in silence. For a while, the park was so quiet, all that they could hear was the wind and birds chirping. 

The story was longer than Komaeda expected and was about a little boy exploring the nature around him, following a curious stream, eventually being led to an open seashore for the first time. It was a decent, lighthearted piece, far more enjoyable than Hinata’s dry newspaper articles. Komaeda could almost see from all the imagery which description passage referenced which exact book of his—appropriately used too, he wasn’t disappointed, although he did set a low bar of expectation. He personally wouldn’t buy it if he saw it in a bookstore, but he didn’t usually buy fiction books in bookstores, so maybe it wasn’t a good criterion.

“So, overall I think—” Komaeda said as he lifted his head again from the papers, and was met with Hinata’s nervous and eager eyes. 

This time, Komaeda was sure the world didn’t glitch, but the warm spring light just felt a bit brighter than before. Maybe this time he was actually hallucinating. Maybe this was what Alfred Tennyson was writing about birds in the spring.

Before Komaeda could continue to say anything, Hinata started to ramble about all the places he could probably improve on, eyes occasionally darting back to Komaeda’s eyes. Komaeda did not catch what he said, he just sat there and stared at Hinata’s eyes. The owner of those swamp green eyes must have realized that he wasn’t listening and eventually went silent too. Neither of them said anything for a while again.

Eventually, Hinata broke the silence by muttering, “You have pretty eyes," which seemed like an internal thought he didn’t want to let out, because he immediately covered his mouth in panic. Whatever was floating in the air must have affected Komaeda too, because he immediately followed by saying “hey that’s my line”. He never thought he would say that out loud to anyone in his whole life. He felt his own eyes widened as he also looked away from the other person. Another round of silence of what felt like 529 minutes, except this time neither one of them was looking at each other. 

Komaeda broke the silence this time by finally giving comments about Hinata’s work and decided to save the mood by starting with the places he didn’t like. Which…apparently did not work to save the mood, because Hinata’s facial expression and posture both visibly shrank, so he quickly went on to compliment his favourite part which was where the main character rides a horse to chase the sunset on the beach. The part was really beautifully written, and it also felt oddly familiar. Hinata finally smiled, but appeared a bit embarrassed with eyes still darting around as he admitted that he sort of dreamed about that part, which probably got more vividly described because it was to some extent more based on personal experience compared to the other parts of the work, even though he had never seen the ocean or been to a beach.

Interesting. Very interesting. 

Komaeda had also dreamed about a person riding a horse on a beach in front of the sunset. He painted it later because it was so beautiful in his dream and he didn’t want to forget it. Now it was one of his favourite paintings, and had lied in the front of a gallery.

Maybe Hinata was insane like him…that's rude to think about. Although, the fact that Hinata kept wanting to talk to him despite him being as annoying as he always had been…maybe Hinata was actually insane after all.

Until this day he still didn’t know if Hinata figured out that the Servant’s paintings were also based on “dreams” like Hinata’s work was. Back during the day in the park, Hinata didn’t know Komaeda was the Servant, so Komaeda couldn’t tell him about it. After Hinata found out…well for a long while, the inspirations to his old work were definitely not a question of priority for anyone who knew him.

It was a very dramatic evening, probably the second most dramatic evening in his life—the most dramatic being the one where his family was involved in the most serious horse carriage accident his hometown had ever had, and both his parents died on the spot. 

That night, Komaeda was called to a small local art gallery that was showing some of his paintings. The nails supporting one of the paintings had come loose, the whole painting fell to the ground, and some paint cracked and flaked off from the canvas as a result. Just as Komaeda and the gallery owner were deciding what to do with the painting on the mezzanine, he heard someone shouting from downstairs, “Komaeda, is that you?” It sounded like Hinata, so Komaeda looked down the edge of the mezzanine with his painting in hand. 

The section of the mezzanine where Komaeda’s painting had fallen was blocked by curtains following the small accident, but the railing side was not blocked, so—as Hinata later told him—visitors could see his hair from downstairs sometimes. Because of the curtains, visitors also wouldn’t be sure that it was still the Servant’s art in the section, so even if it was someone else who spotted Komaeda, they probably wouldn’t link him to the alias.

Unfortunately, the gallery soon gave Komaeda another reason to never entrust his paintings with it again, because the part of the railings he leaned on immediately cracked and broke as he looked down. He fell to the floor beneath, on top of his painting and the sharp pieces of wooden railings that fell before him.

The last thing he heard before he went unconscious was “Servant! Sir! Are you okay?” And the last thing he saw was a glimpse of Hinata’s shocked and worried face.

When he woke up again in the hospital, he no longer had a left forearm. The doctors had to amputate it because he had an open fracture, with the moldy wooden railings piercing through his skin and already causing an infection by the time he was carried to the hospital. He also had a severe concussion and bruises everywhere, and the painting that was previously cracking slightly was completely distorted under his body. 

What a shame, he kind of liked that painting.

Hinata was by his side in the hospital the whole time, the only person there other than the gallery owner. Thankfully, Komaeda survived the amputation, which was such a relief for the gallery owner. The good luck that he received after getting through all those procedures, medication, and phantom pain was that he was offered to stay at Hinata’s place until he’s fully capable of taking care of himself again, with one hand. Hinata’s reason was that he was almost the main reason Komaeda fell, and that Komaeda needed someone to take care of him while Hinata’s his best choice. 

Komaeda didn’t entirely agree with either of these points. If he could learn to live by himself at age 7, he surely could figure out a way to live by himself with one hand at age 24. He would just be too much of a burden and a source of bad luck everywhere he went. This town didn’t need a horse carriage accident worse than ever, or another infrastructure breakdown. Everything and everyone that had been nice to him never seemed to get a good ending. 

Throughout his stay at the hospital, he kept trying to convince Hinata he could manage himself, which didn’t work at all. He then tried to downplay the situation, play cold, and speak more extremely, but none of it worked either. Just like Soda said, Hinata can be quite stubborn. No one else ever willingly stayed by his side after half of what he had attempted. 

Eventually, Komaeda gave up; he had a feeling that Hinata would be even sadder if he didn’t accept the offer, so he did.

Yeah maybe Hinata is actually insane, why would he bring someone as annoying as Komaeda to his house? Or, more importantly, what was Hinata doing here in the middle of the night in front of his house after not seeing him in three years? He might find answers in Hinata’s bag, but he wanted to hear the story from the ex-soldier’s mouth. He knew a lot about Hinata, but he didn’t know what happened to him during all these years, what was he thinking, what was Komaeda in his heart now, or how did he get in there years ago.

The next two years felt like a dream. At first, Hinata helped Komaeda to move into his place after they went to Komaeda’s place to pick up the necessary items. Hinata’s room was small and cozy, cramped in the middle of a busy part of the town, with old furniture and lots of handmade tools. There was only one bed, and Hinata insisted on letting Komaeda take the bed while he slept on the couch. Hinata was as busy as he always was, but when he was home, he would care for Komaeda and help him get used to using one hand to carry out day-to-day tasks. He also cooked and cleaned for both of them, and Soda was right—Hinata’s cooking skills were just enough to keep them alive.

It was boring, it was painful, it was a strange feeling to Komaeda, in a good way. For the first time in seventeen years, he was looking forward to someone else returning home, eating dinner together with someone who cared about him, and having someone to talk to every day. Those small things of life were almost as difficult to get used to as living with one hand. 

The small room of Hinata’s was also a lot less aesthetically pleasing than his own house, filled with cracked corners and walls with water stains and discoloured patches. Though somehow, living in such a place with Hinata gave everything around him more vibrant colours than before. Maybe it was because of the undercooked carrots in the soup, maybe it was because of the leaves they picked up when they went on walks in the park, or maybe it was because life just felt better when someone’s got his back. Or left hand.

A second round of surprise came when Soda visited Hinata’s place. He had heard the bad news and wanted to build Komaeda a prosthetic hand, and came to take his measurements. Two weeks later, he came back with a wooden prosthetic with movable parts, hidden hooks, and a mechanism that allowed the user to lock the wrist and the fingers in place so it could hold onto objects. 

“This—this is absolutely amazing! I don’t know how to thank you for this, Soda-kun, and I don’t currently have much money on me.” Komaeda stared in awe at the piece of wood newly attached to his forearm. 

“Oh forget it, I’m just doing what I can to help you out, sorry that it happened.” Soda shrugged, “get well soon, or get used to it soon, I’m sure Hajime would take good care of you. Keep doing what you’ve been doing, alright? Just know that this is the first thing of its sort I’ve made, so it’s probably not that great. Let me know if anything goes wrong with that hand.” 

Komeada smiled, “I will, Soda-kun, thank you so much.” He truly didn’t deserve to have such nice people around him.

The mechanic’s work proved to be incredible. Just a piece of wood that was similar in shape and size to his lost arm and hand would already make his life easier, but Soda’s design allowed him to do so much more. He didn’t feel much “incompleteness” in his body after losing a body part, but however much he felt, Soda's creation made up for it.

And of course, there was the unavoidable conversation everyone—or both people—who learned about his alias would demand to have.

“So, Mr. Servant, huh?” One evening, Hinata said at the dinner table.

“Yeah, nice to meet you. I’m glad to see that you have connected the dots.” Komaeda answered indifferently. Honestly, he had expected the conversation a lot sooner.

“I assume you didn’t want people to know.”

“You’d be correct, and I assume you would be sensible enough to not tell the world about it either. But just for the record, I’ve never lied about it.” He looked at Hinata amusedly as the latter was caught in thought, most likely thinking about what Komaeda had said during their conversations about the Servant’s art. 

“Well um, I’m happy for you and your accomplishments. I also do really like your art, so please keep making them, and I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Hinata finally said with a smile, after not being able to catch Komaeda in a lie about his alias.

“Don’t worry, I will as long as I still have my right hand functional.” 

“Do you…take commissions?” There was a hint of excitement in Hinata’s eyes, which Komeada found fond of.

“I do. The price is…dependent on what the request is, but usually a decent amount. For you though, a bag of pretzels and a piece of cheese for whatever you want. And consider them already paid last year.”

“Deal!” Hinata beamed.  

Komaeda moved back to his own house after mostly getting used to everything; Hinata’s place was too small for two men to live together in the long term after all. However, Komaeda started to come to town more often than ever, and when Hinata was not at work, they would just meet up and spend time together to do whatever they thought about on the spot. They’ve taken so many walks in the park together, Komaeda felt that if there were pieces of the park to collect for a puzzle, they would have found all of them. They have also been to Komaeda’s house together, often just to spend the afternoon reading books sitting next to each other. That was always a quiet and peaceful time; not much could really go wrong in such settings. Having someone else in his house never felt so comforting, and his house never felt so warm. Hinata was always curious about his books, and Komaeda was always glad to help. Sometimes he wished they lived closer to the sea so they could go see the beautiful nature that both of them had only seen in their head. It would be way too dangerous for him to swim in the sea; he didn’t like the UV rays either, but building sand castles with Hinata sounded like a fun time. 

Hinata was far from the absolute hope he sought after, but staying with him felt…hopeful. For two years, he found himself looking forward to the next day, next week, and next month because of Hinata. 

He started to attempt saturated colours in his paintings, starting with drawing pretzels and cheese, just for practice. Soda had worked with Hinata to build him another prosthetic hand, with the hand part replaced by a clamp, designed specifically to let him hold his palette tightly, in support of his artistic career. Komaeda was very grateful for that, and gave back a pile of money that led Soda to go on a spontaneous vacation two days later. 

“You never gave me any money for what I did.” Hinata mocked him when he heard about it, more out of jealousy that the self-employed mechanic could decide his own vacation time. 

“I gave you what you wanted, if you want you can extract your memories of all my books, give them back to me, and I can give you some money.” Komaeda didn’t even look at him, just kept his eyes on the book and snuggled against Hinata’s body on the couch.

“Nah, I prefer the books.” 

“Haha, I thought so.”

“Is there nothing else you want to give me?” Hinata said, still mockingly.

Komeada finally raised his eyes from the book, “I gave you myself, remember?”

Hinata immediately turned red and looked away, he must have gotten the wrong message. Komaeda mainly wanted to say that he gave himself to Hinata when he mandated that he wanted to take care of Komaeda, plus that he revealed his identity of the Servant to Hinata, which he barely ever did to anyone, and lastly and least that he gave so much of his life and heart and attention to Hinata, which he had never done before.

“Plus, if you keep living with me, my money is basically your money.”

“Why me though…you’re so talented and pretty, while I’m just some random guy doing average on everything in existence.” Hinata also leaned onto Komaeda’s body, holding another book.

“That is a really outrageous clause to say, the first half of your sentence. I do agree with that second half though. I think I’m just truly in love with y…your hope inside your heart.” Komaeda answered. The better question was why did Hinata decide to stay by his side, being the way he was. Certainly it wasn’t because he was “talented and pretty”, because he wasn’t. And he certainly wouldn’t choose to stay close to himself if he was someone else. But he never got the chance to ask.

Just like a dream, the boring but peaceful life was destined to end. He should have known, in the back of his head he always knew. Nagito Komaeda does not get to be happy for long. But it was so comforting, so tangible, he thought maybe for once it would be okay for him to try to touch it again.

A war was started by the neighbouring empire, its Pink Queen announcing the ambition to conquer the world. For a while, it didn’t feel real to the little town far from any major cities or strategic routes. Soon, defeats and bad news surged on newspapers, wave after wave, and their country was on the verge of falling. A national emergency was declared, followed by the order of conscription by lottery. 

Working for a newspaper company, Hinata was among the first in town to know about the conscription. He tried to comfort Komaeda when he told him the news by saying it was just a possibility that he would get drafted, but at that moment Komaeda already knew it was not just a possibility, it was a defined future. Being a disabled man, Komaeda was exempted from the conscription order, but he would rather die a slow and painful death on the battlefield than watch the person he cared about the most walk into death, unable to change anything. There was a reason that the Pink Queen’s army was winning, and they were now in need of conscription.

Maybe it was better if he never talked to Hinata. If he just walked away in silence after seeing those books falling on Hinata at the bookstore, then Hinata would be like all the other men in town, still had a chance to not face the horrors of killing and be killed. 

A few weeks later, unsurprisingly to Komaeda, Hinata’s name was on the list. Apart from the sorrow, Hinata was kept busy by the need to settle his work and rented room, say farewell and arrange for his parents, and get the necessary clothing and supplies. 

He had spent the last couple of days before reporting to duty at Komaeda’s house doing the most mundane things, like reading Komaeda’s books next to him on his couch. The only things different from before were Hinata’s things, now stored at Komaeda’s relatively empty house, and the low pressure and heavy atmosphere, as neither one of them wanted to point out the obvious. 

The only thing Komaeda wanted to remember from those last couple of days was what Hinata had said the night before he left. It was an agonizing time as he watched the person and the life he had wanted the most slowly being pulled away from his grip by the unstoppable force of time and society.

“I’m so glad I met you.” Hinata said as he tried to pick up a piece of potato with his fork. He only succeeded on the second attempt.

The last supper.

“I—I was so happy after meeting you too, Hinata-kun. But if I didn’t, maybe, just maybe, you could—”

“No buts here, okay? And call me Hajime from now on. You didn’t do anything wrong, and no matter what happens, I will always be happy that you chose me.” He smiled, but his brows were pointing downwards. Komaeda bit his lips.

“If I come back, let’s go see the sea together. And I will for sure commission you a hundred times.”

“What if you don’t?”

“Take my manuscript and go see the sea. Then you can burn it or do whatever you want. Sigh…if only I had time to perfect it and maybe even…” He shook his head. “At least you got to read it, and that meant a lot to me.”

“Hajime…”

Life is so unfair.

“Yes, Nagito?”

“Thank you. And sorry.” He struggled against himself to keep his voice steady.

Hinata walked over and hugged him.

It was so warm.

“You don’t have anything to be sorry about.” He said next to Komaeda’s ear, “don’t wait for me for too long.” 

Then the warmth was gone.

...

Then Hinata was gone, most likely gone forever, along with the colours he had brought to Komaeda’s life. He was thrown back to the cold and dull world he had known and deserved. 

He kept doing what he was always doing, making art and staying in his place, alone, whenever he could. Many people were drafted from the town, and a bleak atmosphere filled the air for years. Soda was among the lucky men not chosen, so Komaeda at least still had someone to talk to. 

At first, Hinata also occasionally wrote letters back. He sounded like he tried to be optimistic about the environment he was in and the comrades he trained with, but accidentally tried too hard. Komaeda would smile at those letters, write back, and wonder how long they would still be able to keep up this routine. 

Half a year in, their communication stopped. At that point, Hinata was already on the front line, and the war was more intense than ever before. The only source of information Komaeda had was the newspapers, and while their country had started to win some battles, the casualties also started to get increasingly appalling. The remote and unimportant little town remained mostly physically unaffected, but it lost almost all the liveliness it once had.

The Servant started to make monochromatic paintings. He wasn’t a fan of them before, but they just felt increasingly appropriate for him to try. Just like when he felt like he could use more saturated colours back then. Being disabled and not physically contributing to society in such a time of crisis, he started to miss the time when he looked forward to tomorrow. He thought about making a painting of Hinata; maybe looking at it would make him feel better. He could even put it on the ceiling above his bed so he could go to bed happy every night. It wasn’t like he couldn’t do it; although he mainly painted landscapes, if there was only one person in town who could paint a portrait of someone from memory, it would be the Servant. Eventually, he decided that it was a bad idea, that looking at a portrait of Hinata would just remind him that he had lost him.

Three years later, the situation finally took a turn for the better. No one knew what exactly happened, but one of their new diplomatic chancellors, Makoto Naegi, somehow negotiated an agreement with the invading empire and concluded a peace treaty. 

Finally, excitement filled the streets throughout the country. In public, the people were cheering for the victory of peace, but behind closed doors, families of those who would never return weep for their sacrifice.

That included Komaeda. Past experience told him that Hinata would never return again, and his conscience said it was too small a chance for them to ever meet again. He had kept the pile of manuscripts in a sealed box next to the things his parents had left him, occasionally checking them to make sure they didn’t magically disappear and to remind him of the good times they used to have. At least Hinata died for the hope of peace, for the country to survive, for everyone else to live. At least, if he met Komaeda’s parents in the afterlife, they would probably like him too.

But the most colourful part of his heart hadn’t considered going to see the sea alone at all.

...

...

He saw that familiar gallows again, except this time he knew who was to be hanged.

Hajime Hinata, for treason.

Komaeda could only watch, hidden under a cloak, the hood almost covering his eyes to hide his obvious hair. If he was found, he would also be done for; while he was not opposed to that, it was Hinata’s wish for him to live on, and he had promised to do it. 

But it was all his fault. It was his fault that his gardener Hinata had to die. The thought suffocated him; he couldn’t breathe. His entire body was aching.

Wait what?

...

...

Komaeda opened his eyes; he really couldn’t breathe. 

There was an arm around his neck, the culprit that was suffocating him. Confused, he looked to the side. That arm belonged to Hajime Hinata, who was currently sound asleep. The senses from the lower part of his body finally returned, and he felt that half the body weight of the other man was on his body; there was a leg across his stomach, the weird position giving his bony body cramps everywhere.

He blinked a few times before he finally remembered what was going on. Last night, he found his long-lost Hinata at his door with a fever, so he pulled the man onto his bed, pulled out some meds, and watched him for a bit. Then he must have accidentally fallen asleep, because the prosthetic was still on his left arm and he always took it off before sleeping to not damage it, and Hinata had adapted this overly clingy position while he was sleeping, which gave him a nightmare.

Komaeda squirmed to get out of Hinata’s chokehold as his limited lung capacity and throat muscle strength were getting tested. He first made sure Hinata was still breathing, then touched his forehead to see if he still had a high fever.

Kneeling beside the sleeping man, he was extremely relieved to find that Hinata was still alive and with a lighter fever than the night before. He looked at the bedside table, the water and the medication were all gone. So, Hinata had woken up earlier and taken the medication meant for him, then went back to sleep while clinging to Komaeda. 

What a reunion. Guess it was as emotional as it could get for them.

Hinata was probably woken up by the squirming as he flipped back to a much more normal sleeping position and slowly opened his eyes. 

“Hey, can you hear me? Good morning.” Komaeda asked with a smile.

Huh, that line felt familiar.

Hinata stared at him for a couple of seconds. Just as Komaeda started to question whether something was wrong with his head, he bounced up and pulled Komaeda into a tight hug.

Komaeda hugged him back. “I thought I’d never see you again.”

“Me too. But I’m back now.” Hinata murmured.

“Welcome back.”

Komaeda pushed on Hinata’s shoulders to look at his eyes. They were still the same swamp green, still as vibrant as ever, and more vibrant as they should be. Those eyes creased with a smile, and the morning sun in Komaeda’s house got a little brighter.

...

“...and the bullet grazed the right side of my head after my helmet got cracked. That was so close, if it had gone five more millimetres to my left, I would’ve been dead on the spot! I almost saw the hands of the Grim Reaper back then, it hurt like hell, I was sure I was gonna die.”

They had some wild conversations at the dinner table for a while, eating what Komaeda cooked. How the tables have turned. He made sure his carrots were cooked every time.

“Then a very strong person picked me up and ran to the back like I weighed nothing. In hindsight I think it was a very strong woman. She sent me to the aid post where there was a nurse—God bless the nurse she looked so scared—and then I passed out. I woke up with a bad concussion, I was dizzy, my memory was clogged, so they sent me to the rear hospital. The nurse told me we were winning that battle too, which was such a relief…”

If there was a “which couple could tell the wildest story each of them has experienced” contest at the local pub, Komaeda thought they could probably get in at least the top three. 

“At the hospital they found that apparently my skull was cracked by the bullet, and I was like oh so I was dying after all, but they said I might heal completely, isn’t that crazy? Then while I was at the hospital healing up, I heard the good news, and everyone was so happy. It was probably the best news one could hear on a battlefield. I can’t believe I survived the entire war on the frontline, maybe I got some good luck from staying with you!”

Oh. That was the first time Komaeda ever heard someone say that to him.

...

Two years later, Hinata published his book, an adventure fiction about a little boy exploring the nature around him, following a curious stream, eventually being led to an open seashore for the first time.

“I’ve got a surprise for you,” Komaeda said, suppressing a curve at the corner of his mouth.

“What is it?” Asked the excited Hinata.

Komaeda walked to the back of the couch, pulled out a painting he had hidden there, and showed it to Hinata. It was a painting of Hinata, riding a saddle-less horse on a beach in front of a sunset. It was a magnificent sunset, with bright orange and pink clouds. The vibrant colours bounced between the sky, the seawater, the horse, and the beach. Hinata’s face glowed with the world in a beam. It was almost like he was shining too.

“You never commissioned me, so I took the matter into my own hands.” He smiled, being actually proud of the painting.

Hinata stared at the large painting, mouth agape, completely in awe. He widened his eyes more and more as he looked at each component of the painting. 

“...So, what do you think?” Komaeda asked, slightly nervously.

“I…I…I am at a complete loss for words. This is so so so pretty, when did you—why—how—I love it so much!” He ran over and threw himself into Komaeda’s arms.

“Careful!” Komaeda moved the painting to the side to hug Hinata back.

“And I love you too.” Hinata added.

“Hey that’s my line.”

“You can say it again out loud, Nagito.”

“Fine. I love you too.” If Hinata could see his face, he’d know Komaeda was red, and it wasn’t sunset time.

...

Another year later, they finally went on a trip to see the sea together. Komaeda might have donated just a little bit of money to Hinata’s company to make sure they easily gave Hinata an appropriate length of time off, but that was unimportant. It was a long trip considering the distance their town had to the closest seashore, so a long time off was necessary.

They didn’t have access to any horses, not that they would be able to control one if they had, but they watched multiple beautiful sunsets on the beach together. 

“Is this how you imagined the sea?” Asked Hinata. “Actually, that’s a stupid question, from that painting this is exactly how you imagined the sea.”

“Hehe, yeah it was. What about you?”

“Yeah, pretty similar. Can’t believe I dreamed of something I’ve never seen before so accurately.” Hinata answered happily.

“Have you ever thought…that it might not be just a dream?”

“...Yeah, I have. And I thought, I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve had similar experiences too.”

“You’d be correct.”

They exchanged a quick glance with each other before returning to stare at the sea again.

“Do you think they are real? Like they actually happened?” Hinata asked as he leaned on Komaeda.

“It makes no sense, but…yes, I think they are real.”

“I agree. Maybe we are destined to be together.”

“Maybe. After all that happened…I think you’re someone special that fate had exempted from the terrible things that happen to everyone close to me. Which also makes no sense but…I think a lot of things stopped making sense a while ago.”

“Haha, then maybe you’re stuck with me for the rest of your life!”

“...I would be more than happy to take that,” Komaeda smiled. “And I wouldn’t mind it in the next life too, but I think we’d be too different from who we are now.”

“Stuck together until we grow white hair together, so romantic…wait no then you’d be cheating!”

“Haha, just say what you gotta say, don’t be shy, Hajime.”

“...fine. Until death do us part.”

Until death do us part.

***

“Until death do us part.” The white-haired prince said to his brown-haired royal gardener as they spent the night in a tree while hiding from the royal guards.

***

“Until death do us part.” The shepherd with spiky hair said to the glassmaker with light-coloured eyes on the beach, in front of a sunset.

***

“Until death do us part.” The taller potter said to the shorter blacksmith during the 15th anniversary of the shop they opened together.

***

“Until death do us part.” The hedgehog said to the lynx when they finally found a way to embrace each other.

***

......

“Okay fine your win again!” The Grim Reaper muttered as he pushed his dice away from him. “Jeez, these two can’t get a break.” 

Sitting across from the Grim Reaper, Cupid smiled.

“Next round I swear I will put more despair in their world.”

“C’mon, how many more times do you still want to torture these guys?”

“Are you worried they won’t end up together next time?” The Grim Reaper lazily tilted his head.

“No, not the slightest. I have trust in them. Plus, they’re hand-chosen by the God of Fortune herself.” Cupid crossed his arms. 

“Ha, God of Misfortune you mean.” 

“Whatever you say,” Cupid shrugged, “but they’re quite literally destined to be together.”

“We’ll see about that!” Slightly annoyed, the Grim Reaper also crossed his arms.

***

“Until death do us part.” The man with heterochromatic eyes said to the man with a metal prosthetic left hand.

***

“OKAY FINE I ACCEPT THAT THEY ARE DESTINED TO BE TOGETHER NOW! I DON’T WANT TO PLAY THIS ANYMORE!” The Grim Reaper snapped.