Archive of Our Own ^beta

To say that his days at Hopes Peak Academy were ‘bland’ would be lying. His beloved classmates are loud and colourful, his friends interesting and kind; yet, ultimately, it grew repetitive overtime. This didn't mean that he disliked the routine, no, he adored it– change wasn't something he was ever comfortable with, so essentially living the same week over and over was a joy he couldn't thank the world enough for– but even someone like him who yearns to live such an inconsequential life could eventually grow bored. 

Holidays are different, though.

Fifty days since Boxing Day comes Valentines, meaning a certain nobody could enjoy the subtle differences in his classmates' behaviour. The usual greetings he’d casually reply to on his walk to school were peppered with extra cheer and softly veiled excitement, and when Souda and Kuzuryuu arrived on time by his side, they both shined brighter under the sun. .. Or.. ah, maybe that was just his eyes playing tricks on him, as Komaeda had lost his contacts this morning.. and also his spare glasses, and also his spare spare glasses, and… ah, whatever. The physical glow was probably his eyes, but the metaphorical glow was there. It's just such a  wonderful thing, the pure joy and love inside everyone's hearts, and it was undeniable that on days like these those feelings were determined to stay unhidden. 

In related news, something else was spilling out at the seams and, like usual, that ‘something else’ was Souda's feelings for Sonia. This time it was themed though, aha. See, subtle differences!

“If you're ever gonna tell her, it should be today, dude. Not like you even need to at this point, considering how goddamn obvious you are.” Cutting through Souda's rant that Komaeda had regretfully zoned out of was Kuzuryuu, the blonde boy miserably failing to be nonchalant. It was always obvious he cared about Souda's little love life, but it's uncharacteristically more obvious today, being unusually open with his feelings as he's swayed in circles by the holiday, the spell on the world's heart. It makes Komaeda giggle to himself, accidentally turning his friends' attention to him. 

“W-well if I gotta confess to her, then we all do! Fuyuhiko has to confess to Pekoyama–” Souda ignores Kuzuryuu's spluttering red face as he continues, “–and Nagito has to confess to.. to his crush.”

Shark teeth out in the open as he grinned, Souda looked quite proud of himself. Komaeda didn't really know how to reply, but as usual (for some reason he still couldn't understand), Kuzuryuu stepped in for him. 

“Uh– f-first of all, I don't like Peko, so shut up. Secondly, I uh.. don't think Nagito likes anyone like that.”

“Oh you totally like Pekoyama, don't–”

“Seriously, sh-shut up! I'll kill you!”

Souda shrieks, shrinking back into himself, only this time Komaeda has the common sense to cover his mouth before giggling. Despite his attempt to stay ignored though, Kuzuryuu still turns back to him, attentive in all the ways he tries to hide. 

“You, uh… don't, right? Nothing wrong with it if you do. Or, y’know, if you don't.” A small hand is momentarily placed on his shoulder, squeezing him in reassurement, but reassuring of what, Komaeda doesn't know. Do they believe him to be repulsed by that sort of thing?

“Yeah, you're kind of like a freaky alien, so I wouldn't be surprised if you didn't feel those thi‐” Souda is punched in the face. Barking out a wheezed laugh, Komaeda stumbles back as his friends scuffle for a moment, Souda pathetically squeaking out apologies and pleas as he's tackled by a boy much smaller than him. Once back on their feet, Kuzuryuu gives one last weak push to Souda before returning to Komaeda's side. 

“Don't listen to him, he's weird. There's, like, nothing wrong with not feeling romantic feelings, it's just another label. I knew a girl once who was like that, she..” Kuzuryuu chuckles to himself, as if ready to launch into a short story, only for his expression to fade abruptly. His mouth hangs open, words lost, and Komaeda waits patiently for an explanation to come, only to be brushed off. “..Wait, what was I saying?”

Tilting his head, Komaeda prompts him to continue, eager to know more. He always loves to hear about his friends and their past experiences, it makes him feel more deserving of their presence, like he really is a ‘friend’ to them. “..the girl? You knew a girl who didn't feel romantic feelings?” 

Weirdly though, Kuzuryuu just looks puzzled. “..Did I?”

..It's awkwardly silent. Wasn't he just surrounded by chattering people? Why can't he hear shoes clattering against the pavement, leaves whistling in the wind? Why can't he hear girls whispering about who they're planning to confess to, guys boasting about who's already approached them? ..Why.. can't he hear himself breathe—

Souda nudges him, huffing, and suddenly Komaeda has forgotten what he was wondering about.

“Sorrrrry. I don't understand that stuff, but if it's you… it's fine, I guess. I got used to you being gay, after all. ..although, if you don't feel anything romantically, doesn't that mean you only like guys sexually? ..So you're like a whore, or something?”

“Oh my GOD Kaz shut UP!” 

Souda is… you guessed it, punched in the face again. They're back on the floor, only this time Kuzuryuu is holding Souda uncomfortably close as he lectures the pink haired boy on boundaries and, well, it's all rather funny, but Komaeda decides he might as well clear it up now.

“I, ah, am not aromantic. I don't really know where you got that, honestly.”

They both turn to him, blinking in shock. Kuzuryuu is the first to shoot back up. “Uh, like, yeah. Pssh. Of course.” Souda nods sheepishly along with his friend's words, playing with his hands. “We knew that. Duh. We wouldn't assume that about you just because you don't have a crush. That's dumb.”

Komaeda nods, not believing them at all. He doesn't mind the assumption, and he in fact feels closer to the opposite, honestly; he finds himself wishing that they were right. He of course doesn't partake in these wonderful valentine's fueled lovey dovey feelings, not because he thinks it's too much or because he isn't interested, but because he physically can't. No one would ever love him after all, with that being a truth he has to pound into his brain daily, insisting that he was fine with it because someone like him wasn't fit for that sort of spotlight anyway, and it was for the better. 

The people beside him everyday were enough to fill his heart, and he couldn't let himself be greedy and mix a boyfriend up in with the rest, being soaked and beaten into the mixture of his life like everyone else was. To let someone date him would be like purposely bringing them all his bad luck, and why would he do that? The only good thing about all his bad luck is that it compliments his belief system– he believes luck in itself is fixed, finite. His bad luck is manageable because it leaves behind all the good luck for everyone else, and his suffering is a small price to pay for everyone else's smiles. To bring someone into his home, his heart.. he'd only tear them down with him, he thinks. He knew he was already being incredibly selfish letting Kuzuryuu and Souda stay so close, so he just can't… he can't let himself endanger anyone else, not anymore. He despises the endless, meaningless pain that follows him around like a plague more than anything else in the world.. except maybe talent.

“Oi,” Kuzuryuu calls out to him, bumping him with his shoulder. He notices they're in the school corridor now, cursing himself for zoning out again, “off-topic, but you've got a stalker.”

..

..Huh?

Komaeda feels the colour drain from his face, freezing mid step. Before he has the time to overreact, though, Kuzuryuu seems to notice his mistake, biting his lip as his eyes shift awkwardly. 

“N-not like an actual stalker, uh, don't freak out. Just.. uh–” “The one with the red eyes, right?! I-I was starting to think he was a hallucination, hahaa… but he's real and he's totally been following us all morning.” Souda rambles way too loudly about a person who's supposedly right behind them, but it's intriguing, so Komaeda turns around. Just the word ‘stalker’ flares his nerves, but Komaeda’s always been rather curious and his own safety would never take priority over information, so he peeks around other students until they make eye-contact.

A rather handsome boy their age was leaning against the wall, staring intently at Komaeda. His suit would've been identical to the Hopes Peak one if not for the miscoloured black fabric, although Komaeda was inclined to believe it was unluckily dyed wrong in the wash, as that idea would explain the ‘beaten up and falling apart’ aspect of it all– but more strikingly because he's been in the situation himself, and this boy feels.. oddly similar to him for a reason he can't describe. His hair was short and spikey, its colour indistinguishable from black or brown, a mix of the two; Komaeda suspects it would change under the light. His eyes were a dark, piercing red, yet they were anything but unnerving, unlike Pekoyama-san's red eyes. 

Komaeda knows enough about social convention to know that if he's getting followed and watched on Valentine's Day, it's probably because his stalker has romantic feelings for him, despite the very obvious fact that he himself is disgusting and unlovable. Being loved like that by someone is practically impossible for him but.. he is a rather unlucky guy, so he sees it fitting. Still, despite his urge to assume this ‘stalker’ is interested in him, the stalker certainly doesn't look interested, more so pissed than anything. His eyes don't shyly avert once he's caught staring, but instead only gaze at him deeper, as if his intent is to steal the boy's soul.. and that expression, wow. Komaeda has never seen anyone more bored. 

..So the boy wants to beat him up, then? That would fit better in Komaeda’s accumulated view of stalkers considering his past, so he's eager to accept the hypothesis, but.. there's something special about the boy that he can't place. Weirdly, he feels almost connected to him. ..Maybe he's just lonely, or maybe his earlier descriptions weren't actually as dramatic as they seemed and the boy really has stolen his soul, but either way he doesn't care. He'll figure it out once the boy talks, giddy at the thought. Legs tensed to move, he steps away from his friends.. only to be immediately pulled into Souda's surprisingly strong (must be the adrenaline) grip, immobilised by his squealing friend. 

“Dude!!! Dude!!! I know you're a curious guy but that's very clearly a vampire!!! DUDE!!!” Komaeda squirms in his arms for a moment before pliantly stilling himself, uncomfortable but silent in the arms of his oily friend.

Kuzuryuu is and has always been Komaeda's saviour, but it's emphasised immensely as the boy wrestles Komaeda out of Souda’s grip for him, treating him gently as he helps with the untangling without even asking for thanks. He puts himself in the revolting position of touching Souda's bad smelling unclean skin to save him, and it makes the unlucky boy feel so unbearably grateful he can't help but sigh happily, swooning a little. Kuzuryuu was so strong and caring, truly perfect honestly, nothing like Souda– not that Souda's a bad guy per say, but, ah… Komaeda knows who he’d save if he had to choose. ..Wait, off topic. Uh.. what's the reddit term Souda taught him? …Ah! Right, TDLR: Kuzuryuu saved him.

“Vampire's aren't real, Kaz. He's probably an alright guy, if he’s into Komaeda– non-judgemental atleast, unlike someone I know.” Kuzuryuu huffs, exasperated with Souda's behaviour– Komaeda is too, but he'd never admit that aloud (and he's also still too caught up on Kuzuryuu's bravery to speak, honestly). From his words, Kuzuryuu seems to have gathered that ‘stalker’ is too harsh of a word, probably settling on ‘secret admirer’, something harmless that fits his establishment of the red eyed boy's image– though Komaeda wasn't so sure he agreed. ‘Stalker’ doesn't feel wrong to him… although, neither does ‘Vampire’, so he assumes he's just being weird again.

“E-ey! At least I don't follow Miss Sonia around!” Souda retorts, sounding horrified at the idea of being worse than the mystery boy, despite the fact that no one's even heard him talk yet. 

“Ah, you do, though.” Komaeda chips in, gaining his voice back, “Quite often, if we're being honest. I'm honestly starting to get concerned for her..”

Souda squeaks for what feels like the fourth time today, stuttering in a high pitch as he replies. “W-What, you think I'm creepy?!”

Kuzuryuu and Komaeda are silent in reply, before Komaeda decides to jump in with the tried and true distraction of, “Class is starting now, correct? I guess we have no more time to talk about this.”

Souda whines, attempting to state that they very much do have time and that he isn't creepy, but the other two boys are too busy hiding their amusement to reply.

School was overall uneventful, except for the fire that occurred in Home Ec (they let him cook again, how foolish) resulting in minor burns all over his arms and a trip to see Tsumiki-san. He swore he kept seeing that boy out of the corner of his eye, lurking somewhere past his brain and vision, which was confirmed by the boy's appearance in the Nurses Office after Komaeda's injury. As he checked and rechecked Komaeda's already patched up wounds, he introduced himself as ‘World Destroyer’ (an odd, interesting name for an odd, interesting boy.. Komaeda was so desperately eager to know him, yet he kept those feelings locked up) and explained that he had indeed been skipping his classes to watch and follow Komaeda all day. When Komaeda pried, wondering why this would only start today, the boy simply told him that it didn't. So he was getting sloppy? Or, more likely, he was making himself obvious before confessing? He couldn't fathom why someone would pay so much attention to a nobody like him, especially when he was already disoriented from the boy's touch– detective work under the influence was difficult. He just decided to ignore it, in the end, letting World Destroyer (Destroyer-san? Destroyer-kun? Why does he feel close enough to this boy to consider kun?) trail after him for the day, assuming he'd eventually realise Komaeda's true worth and give up, disappointed in himself for being interested in someone so useless– and he told the boy this too, clear in his intentions for once. It made Destroyer sigh, deeply as if disappointed in him, and Komaeda felt a wave of nostalgia like he'd heard the sound before despite his inability to place it. He didn't elaborate further before leaving, and Komaeda hadn't seen him since. 

Since meaning now, he realises, catching the boy in his peripheral vision as he approaches, backlit by the setting sun. If the boy wanted to kill him, slit his throat now, he could. Kuzuryuu and Souda don't walk his way home, so he's all alone here, and it's not exactly difficult to figure out that he can't fight for himself if you've ever set your eyes on his unappealing, pale and malnutritioned figure. If Destroyer wants him dead now.. he's dead. The idea is more exciting than he expected it to be. ‘Why?’, he wonders. He wouldn't gain anything if this man killed him– why does it feel like his death here would be a win? He supposes he's just that desperate for touch– a pathetic reason for a pathetic person, ah.. everything is so wonderfully fitting today. The thought floods his mind, still.. Destroyer's hand on him again like it was in the infirmary, perhaps trailing his finger down the wounds he's inflicted as the light fades from both Komaeda’s eyes and the setting sky.. 

..he really is crazy. Ah, well. It's not as if he didn't know that by now. Spinning abruptly to face his stalker, he beams at the boy.

“Destroyer-kun!” Komaeda calls out, voice echoing through the empty streets and bouncing against the hollow walls of empty houses. The abandoned part of town has always been a favourite of his. People don't talk about it and he honestly has no idea why it's abandoned, but he passes it twice a day on his walk and it's always pleasantly unoccupied. Seeing people is nice, but he can't deny his ache to be unseen after the day dies down, to hide away in a big place and have no one find him. He'd like to die in one of these houses, he thinks, in a body bag no one would care to track down. A pond sounds nicer, but he'd feel bad polluting the area. Maybe seeing Destroyer here was the start of that dream, maybe that was why their meeting felt so fated.

“Komaeda.” Ah! He was already getting goosebumps. Oh, he's strange.. so strange, so disgusting, so desperate.. he meets Destroyer halfway, nearly tripping over himself as those eyes meet him. If he truly is Komaeda's stalker, why does he look at him so truthfully, as if he's ocean litter? It would only fit to say Destroyer must despise him, but that leaves the boy's gentle, caring touches unexplained. He almost reminded Komaeda of Kuzuryuu, in this way. Does that mean Destroyer wishes to save him too, as Kuzuryuu does? He aches for it, aches for it just as much as he aches for Destroyer to kill him. Those thoughts conflict, or at least they're supposed to.

“..Hello.” 

“Ah, hello, Destroyer-kun! Did classes go well?”

“I did not care for them.”

“..Hm.”

Komaeda chuckles. “Is Destroyer-kun not bright?” Academically, at least. Physically, metaphorically, he shines.. and no it's not because of the contacts this time, he really is shining. It's confusing actually, the red glow he gives off and the particles surrounding him, especially because confronting it makes his head hurt. He stares until Destroyer snaps at his face.

“I'm incredibly smart, actually. And don't look at all that, look at me.”

‘An ego? And he seems to be almost jealous?’ On all other occasions Komaeda would find himself disliking those traits, but warmth overtook him when Destroyer’s otherwise emotionless tone turned harsh. 

“Yes, sir.” He mumbled mockingly, feigning annoyance, yet it all felt right on his tongue, as if this had all happened before. Destroyer only hummed in reply, rummaging in his pockets.

‘Ah.’ Komaeda chuckles, shaking suddenly with excitement, ‘I've upset him now. It's all over, he's going to blast a bullet between my eyes. I want to splatter everywhere, I want him to remember. Not to make him guilty, but just to leave a stain.’ 

Unexpectedly, though, Destroyer pulls out not a pistol but a little box, lovingly decorated with lace and painted clovers. 

“For you.” He says, as if it's entirely natural. Maybe it's a bomb, but Destroyer isn't running away. ..Maybe this is a murder-suicide? Ah, how romantic.. very fitting for Valentine's Day, he can't help but inwardly praise the boy's taste. The box is personalised for him too, considering the small clovers and the overuse of green (hiding his painful inhale and the clench in his heart as he notices the beautifully painted fluffy dog on the side), and if Komaeda really did still fear death, it all faded at the present. His murderer was very kind, he thought, opening the box without regrets.

…Yet again though, Destroyer went beyond his expectations as he was left to stare with his very not blown to bits eyes at the chocolates in his very not blown to bits hands. 

It was just… a normal gift. Well, not normal, really. A romantic gift. A Valentine's Day gift. It felt like a lie, a joke or a trick, stupid to accept, but there was no other option, was there? He was still standing. 

“They're bitter.” Destroyer states, reminding Komaeda yet again that he's still alive. “On purpose, of course. You don't like sweet things.”

Komaeda felt close to passing out. How much did Destroyer know about him? He doesn't ever remember telling anyone that. Why would he? People don't make him food, all he eats is stuff from the Konbini– he can't cook and he’d feel too spoiled by a personal chef. Destroyer stalked him so thoroughly as to know his eating habits? It didn't make sense. His eyes drift from the chocolate to the boy multiple times before he makes up his mind. 

“..Would you like to go somewhere with me? We could chat.”

“A date?”

Komaeda felt himself blush. It felt too innocent of an expression on him, but that's.. wrong, right? He's normal, normal kid's blush– yet he's been so harsh on himself today, he's realising, as if he was inhuman. Of course he's never liked himself, but.. does he usually think like this? For someone as unremarkably average as him, that doesn't make sense. Has Destroyer’s presence really messed with his mind that much? He feels himself nod a ‘yes’ as he decides that it must've. This boy was an unnatural force, unravelling him from the outside, yet Komaeda couldn't force himself to feel negative about it.

“..A date, yes.”

Destroyer suddenly pumps up his fist like a fourteen year old who just got his first kiss in a western teen movie. It was frighteningly cute, especially when paired with Destroyer’s unchanged expression, not fitting the situation at all. 

“Score.” This is what they describe as ‘sarcasm’, Komaeda believes, and yet he knows just instinctively that Destroyer is serious, wholeheartedly so. He knows he's wrapped around the spikey haired boy's finger and he honestly couldn't feel an ounce of fear, even if the world depended on it.

Silently, he decides that ‘Destroyer’ is wrong. ‘World’ fits much better– it's what he is to Komaeda, so it should be what he calls him, too. 

Familiar waves beat against the shore. Palm trees swayed, cicadas chirped. The moon glimmered in the sky, and Komaeda outstretched his finger to absentmindedly trace the rabbit on its side as he sighed. He had planned to discuss everything on the walk, but it was too calming by World's side to speak up, walking in synchronised steps across the sidewalk as they made it through the ghost side of town to the regular side of town, and then eventually to the beach. He must've been lost in his mind when they arrived, as he didn't remember departing from the streets to the shore, nor did he honestly remember this town having a beach to begin with, but he didn't dwell when it was much more interesting to think about the other boy.

In observation he notices that his previous assumptions were correct, as World's hair did in fact look black under darker lighting. It glittered under the moonlight, more breathtaking than the moon itself in the moment, and he wondered how World would look with a rabbit. Giggling, unlike himself with strange affection, he leant forward to brush stray strands out of World's vision, relishing in the attention it brung him. Recognisable eyes stared right through him, rendering him uselessly soft.

“Do you recognise this beach?” World calmly asks, letting Komaeda play with his hair, unbothered by the unexplained affection. He isn't bothered, he isn't bothered. Komaeda wants to keep this boy with him forever. So selfish, yet this boy isn't bothered. 

“I recognise you.” Komaeda mumbles, trying to make himself sound just flirty enough without being weird.

“You do?” World, for the first time, sounds surprised. At this point, Komaeda has developed his own little theory that World can only express his feelings in one way at a time. If he sounds surprised, he won't look it. If his body language indicates he's excited, he won't sound like it. It's weird, just like he is, just like Komaeda is. Komaeda adores it.

“Yes,” He replies, holding himself back from giggling at his next words, "you're the man of my dreams.”

He couldn't keep it in anymore when World's bland expression furrowed, seemingly offput. He can't help but tease, and it feels incredibly worth it when he's rewarded with such a cute reaction from the normally stoic boy. One of Komaeda's favourite things is figuring out puzzles, and World might just be the most puzzling person he's ever met, so he truly does adore their little exchange. Even so, that admission would ruin the tease, because it was true– World really was the man of his dreams. It was a weird thing to think when they quite literally just met, (just met is wrong, I knew every version of this man and I've loved them all) but this.. this calm is all he's ever wanted. This entertainment, this safety, this care. He never thought he'd feel like this, but he too is under the Valentine's spell, love drugged and drowning. 

He likes to think if he truly did drown, World would save him. His knight in shining armour..

What a hopeful strange thought. 

“Ah,” World replies, reminding Komaeda of his upset state, “right. I thought you were going to say something actually meaningful.”

…

..Laughs spill. Spill, spill, spill. It feeIs like a sickly waterfall, like vomit. It's funny, because when Komaeda said it, he wasn't taking it seriously. It's funny, because when those nonserious feelings are reciprocated, he finds he really is drowning, now. Not in love, though. Something with a name he can't place, something that tastes of dirt and ash as it spirals endlessly. He laughs until his head hurts, until he's gasping, until his hands find refuge in the sand to hold up his wheezing body. 

Meaningful. 

He was joking, but he wasn't. World was so kind, yet he felt just as everyone else did. Komaeda's love was not meaningful. Komaeda had nothing to do but laugh.

Eventually, eventually, he stops. He finds himself dry heaving, half expecting to see chocolates that he hasn't yet eaten come up on the sand, yet nothing rises. A hand places itself on his back, rough in all the ways he knows so well, thumb rubbing comforting spirals circles.

Finally speaking up, World decides to not only avoid the topic of Komaeda's rather revolting breakdown, but also avoid making sense all together, apparently. “You do not have any recollection of your time on the beach with him? You are sure of this?”

Komaeda, after a moment of confusion at the change of topic, opens his mouth to inquire on who ‘him’ refers to, but the pain that follows it makes him choke, recognising it as one of a gunshot. He jumps up, frantically checking his body to locate the injury before World's strong hands stop him, cupping his face and stealing his ability to think. 

“You have not been injured. It's alright, think no more of it.” Komaeda melts. The pain fades when World helps his brain stop.

“I suppose I should not pry,” World continues, “I do not want to risk injury to your brain, considering how it's already so fragile and how it's too precious to hurt.”

He has too many questions to count, yet the only one that leaves his lips is, “..You think my brain is precious?”

World averts his gaze. “He did. Does. And I am apart of him, if only artificial, so I feel the same way.”

“W–”

“Do not ask. It is too much for you now. You need to stabilise further before I can remind you of such things, in the present it will only harm you. ..I've been telling him that, yet he still stupidly urges me to attempt this once a day, as if we could get anywhere when you're still so easy to break.”

Komaeda bites at the stray skin on his lip, nodding along, silently urging World to continue. Flicking red eyes over to him, searching his face, World presses his thumb down onto abused lips, sliding for one heavenly moment through the gap and into the wet of his mouth before immediately pulling away. 

“Do not bite yourself.”

‘It's just skin’, Komaeda wants to say. ‘It doesn't hurt me, it's just skin.’ Instead what slips out is something more honest, more dislikable, more degenerate. 

“Could you stick your thumb in my mouth?”

..World just sighs, closing his eyes.

“Today didn't wake you. Just like I knew it wouldn't.” 

‘Ah, he's not even acknowledging the proposal… like he should, of course. I'm not upset by that, it's only natural.’ 

“You can't be woken until you're stable, yet he's too desperate to see you again to wait. I'd like to call his desperation foolish, but I share his feelings, so I'm not one to talk.”

‘..What? Wait, what is he saying, I zoned out.’ “Infact, I only did this because of my feelings. I could've just left you alone today, but.. I needed to know how it felt. I suppose I'm strange, disobedient for that. Faulty. But he is too, so I'm unsurprised.”

Komaeda coughs, breaking through World's rambling. “Uh–”

World quickly cuts him off, holding him safe and close again, settling one palm on his forehead and the other on his neck. “Are you sick? Do you feel ill? Komaeda, answer me.” His words and his grip were firm, catching Komaeda off guard.

“Wha– ah..?” 

It clicks after a moment, settling a coat of shame over Komaeda's shoulders. “No. No, uh, fake cough. Sorry.”

World blinks, backing off just as quickly as he came close, and Komaeda doesn't think about it as he catches World's wrists, forcing him to pause. “Ah, ah.. uhm..” He falters, feeling selfish and undeserving and nauseous, ill and gross and dirty and horrible, unable to voice or even understand his thoughts under the pile of black ink he's buried them all in– and then World's hands are back on him, letting it all fade to a dull buzz that reminds him of the cicadas.

“...You can tell me. I like it when you tell me about yourself, Komaeda.” Komaeda's throat tightens.

“I've never told you anything about myself.” Voice weak and strained, tinged with a slight taste of self-deprecating humour, he sounds awkward and rushed like he's covering up a night of crying.

“You told him.”

“...”

Komaeda sighs. The open feeling doesn't feel as safe now. World can not only see through him, he can see all of him– from the pores of his skin to the organs inside him, both of them covered with his secrets, everything he's ever done inscribed on their meaty lining.

“I was, ah…” He starts, deciding to answer him while not really answering him. 

“I was supposed to be the interrogator, you know. You're kind of ruining the date.”

“Hm.” World doesn't look like he cares, but to be fair, he never does. “My apologies. What is it?”

‘Ah. I have to back this up now.’ “...The chocolate. How did you know I didn't like sweets?”

World puts his finger to his chin, feigning thinking. “He knew. Or, not him. The other him. I believe you told the kids, once, and he found out from them.”

Komaeda groans, he's just going around in circles. Is this how Hinata feels while talking to him? Jeez, he almost fee–

…Hinata?

……Who..

…………….. huh?

Why does he.. recogni–

Something warm is pushing, moving against his lips. As he takes his attention away from what he now notices is a burning, boiling pain inside his brain, he notices it's World's lips against his own that's moving. It's hot. Hot, quite literally. It burns him, burns him like everything else does, is, burns him until it's all he can think about, and he shatters like a hot glass. He can feel World's hands on him, roaming, picking up his pieces and reassembling him, only to let him melt. It's wonderful, so utterly enjoyable that he doesn't know anything else in the moment, anything except World and the wonderful temperature he brings. It's not only hot physically, but hot literally he realises, and then it cycles back to hot physically again, judging by the hot burning sensation that he can pathetically already feel building up in his stomach. 

World only pulls away once his throat begins to burn too, letting Komaeda rest his forehead on his shoulder as he pants like a dog, struggling to think or do anything but clutch onto the red eyed boy desperately, tugging at his miscoloured suit in a silent plea for more and whining when he's refused with a sharp glare, as if World is silently communicating to him to breathe first (he can imagine it so easily, too, like he's already committed the others voice into memory). Finally, finally, he catches his breath, pulling himself up to lean in again– only to pause, his brain coming back into play one last time. 

“W-..why?”

World tilts his head, innocently. Komaeda can't tell which one of them is supposed to represent the dog. “I like you. I told you as much, didn't I?”

Komaeda whines again, still feeling confused. “K..kind of..” He refrains from biting his lip, being a good boy for once as he continues his questioning, still sounding out of breath. “You.. asked for this, and you said that, but.. hh.. you kept turning me down.”

World nods, once. “There are more important things than this, despite the way my ‘body’ and my ‘brain’ disagree. I was attempting to stay logical.”

Komaeda chuckles aimlessly, not getting the joke. Somewhere, deeper, where he refuses to look, he lingers on the way that World refers to ‘body’ and ‘brain’ as if they're two separate people. Even deeper though, he doesn't know what to do with that information. “..so.. why'd you do it?”

“To distract you.”

“..huh.”

Komaeda gazes at him, out of words. World wipes away the drool on his chin that he hadn't noticed, so kind and wonderful. Komaeda is distracted, atleast. Does that mean he's doing good? Is World proud of him? 

“I'm certainly… distracted.” He mutters, all too truthfully. This boy makes him a terrible liar.

Said boy hums, nodding again. “I can see that, Komaeda.”

Chuckling at nothing, Komaeda leans in to reconnect their kiss, satisfied with the little he's been told. It's less desperate this time, but still incredibly sloppy on Komaeda's side– after all, he's barely there right now, high on all the affection he never expected to get. World guides him through it, calming that energetic, burning buzz into a warm hum, steady hands in his hair and surprisingly soft lips against his own. Tuning back into the universe, he starts to think. Think about the hands on him, the lips on him, the boy on him. He thinks about how grateful he is. He holds the boy unnecessarily close, climbing into his lap as if to fuse with him so they'd never be separated. 

His hands fumble with the buttons on World's suit blazer, yet once they're undone he doesn't undress the man– instead attempting to rebutton it with him between them, quite literally attempting to crawl under the boys clothes. It makes World chuckle, legitimately chuckle. Chuckle!! The boy who shows such little emotion chuckling at his pathetic, strange endeavour! Komaeda chokes on drunk affection again until he's snapped out of it by a flick on the forehead, being forced to stop as World shuffles himself out of the blazer. 

“You won't fit.” He mumbles, a soft smile on his face. A smile. Komaeda hadn't ever seen it before, but god it's gorgeous. He'd end the world for that smile, he thinks. Or, wait, no. World is his world, so he can't end the world for World. ..Ah, this is complicated.. 

The blazer is off now, tie loose on him. World is hesitantly pulling his undershirt out, as if to stretch it– ..oh. Oh, wow. 

‘What did I ever do to deserve this..?’ He thinks to himself, too breathless to speak it. He rushes for a moment to bring himself where he wants to be, before realising he still has his own clothes on, huffing to himself childishly. It's not right if they aren't touching skin. He begins to unbutton his blazer but he's so eager that he's going too fast, rushing it once again, sweaty hands slipping on all the buttons. Swift hands take over for him, take care of him, removing the blazer, sweater, and finally, the shirt. His body runs cold so all those different layers usually help, but right now he loathes himself for wearing so much, making his World waste precious seconds removing them from his disgusting body (even though it is very nice feeling the boy undress him, especially once everything is off and his hands linger on Komaeda's chest). Done with being patient, or at least as patient as someone like him can be, Komaeda crawls under the stretched opening to be pressed tight against World's chest, sighing dreamily. Not only is the boy embracing him, but the boy's shirt is as well. As if they were one. 

“..Are you sure that's comfortable for you?” World asks, coaxing Komaeda to look up at him with a hand on his chin. “It's already a rather tight shirt.”

Komaeda nods, very ecstatic about how things are going.

“I like it. I really, really like it. It's okay that I stretch your shirt?”

“Mmn. It's going to be reset tomorrow."

“Huh?”

“...it's fine. I'll iron it.”

Komaeda simply nuzzles into the boys neck as a reply, too caught up in his own fantasies to look any deeper at reality, drooling like a stupid mutt once again at the sensation he gets when World's large chest rubs against his own. His nipples catch on the other boys skin as he adjusts and readjusts himself in the boys lap, feeling completely and utterly content, even more so when World begins peppering kisses everywhere he can reach. He feels bliss for the first time, letting himself finally, truly relax. He gives up on body bag pipe dreams, this is where he wants to die– half naked in the arms of a man much stronger than him who seems to legitimately care, the true desire of every little gay boy. ..Or, well, maybe it was just him, he doesn't exactly know any other little gay boys. Either way.. he's so fortunate to be so treasured, so adored by someone so great. Ah, he's so lucky…

..Eh? Lucky, him? No, he's just an average guy with a bit of a bad luck streak– he's not lucky. 

..He's not. He knows who he is. 

For some reason though, the idea sticks around, tugging. Tugging, scraping, stabbing..

..slashing, 

poisoning, 

Blearily adjusting to life again, Hajime groans in frustration as he registers what woke him up. It's practically his alarm at this point, the loud notification informing him that World Destroyer had to back out. 

The familiar shining television in the middle of the room boots up, painfully blasting Hajime's tired eyes with light. His AI counterpart is displayed onscreen, standing straight up like a soldier on duty.

“..Aren't you supposed to be a World Destroyer? How are we still failing at this…” Pulling at his hair, Hajime groans again, wallowing in his self pity.

“As I've told you, his–”

“Yeah, I know. Doesn't mean I'm not upset about it.”

Hajime's sight shifts from the approximation on himself on the screen to the pod underneath his resting arms, the one he was previously napping on. His eyes lock onto Komaeda's silhouette, lit up enough to be seen under the monitor's glow. It would be easier to be patient if he didn't look so dead or if his brain scans were actually promising. Why can't Hajime at least have that?

“I just…” He bites at his lip. Strangely, he feels the AI's gaze on him for just a moment, as if the boy were real. “Everyone else is up, you know? At this point I just.. I just need something to prove he's still in there.”

World Destroyer opens his mouth to expand on that, only to be quickly interrupted by Hajime. “Don't offer his data. I can't see that, it's too private, I'd feel terrible.”

Hajime has no idea what goes on in the simulations, other than general plans– but even then, sometimes World Destroyer will take initiative and do something he's never mentioned, just to see if little things will end differently; ruining Souda's chance with Sonia, trashing the school, and of course his recent.. romantic experiment with the subject. Just to check if, next time the program loads, Komaeda feels any differently than he should. Nothing has changed yet, sadly. In the end, it's not at all what one would call a particularly good system, but Hajime knows he would only fall ill with worry seeing the outcomes of each attempt, and World Destroyer rather likes his freedom.

“Still,” World Destroyer starts, “you do not need to worry about if he's ‘in there’. He hasn't lost himself yet, in fact that's my road block. The only way he can be woken is if I forcefully remind him of the real world, yet his physical condition is too tied to past emotions to bring any of it up without injuring him. I told you, we need to give it a break.”

Sighing, World Destroyer guiltily looks down at his hands, an expression Hajime has never seen on him. “..I believe I hurt him today.”

That wakes Hajime up. “W-What? Hi–” “Nothing substantial, I've already checked his vitals and his brain. No damage, so to say.. but the reason I left today was because his failsafe shut off, forcibly removing me. He was in such agony that our connection was terminated, the world reset.”

Hajime's breath hitches, hands scrunched up atop the glass roof of Komaeda's pod. His mismatched eyes meet the AI's, sharing the same serious yet slightly concerned expression.

“I don't think I’ll be able to reach anything but the highest stratum for a while, as he's closed everything else away. I meant road block literally when I mentioned it before, he's blocked it all off– every path, every lane, every set of doors and every flight of stairs. I can't access anything inside his mind.”

“...Fuck.” Hajime swears, under his breath. Then it's repeated, louder this time as he angrily pounds his fist against the pod, “FUCK!”

“..Shit, fuck, I–..” With wobbling lips, he collapses his body weight back onto the pod, no longer sitting up as he rests his palm over Komaeda’s comatose face. .. In a short second where he doesn't have enough strength to fight his desires back, he finds himself briefly imagining that the white haired boy is only sleeping, tired from perhaps a nice day with his newly reconnected friends. He imagines cupping the boy's healthily white cheek, feeling him lean into it in his sleep. He imagines the boy waking from the physical contact, blinking away sleep without a care in the world and smiling softly up at Hajime– a real smile, a gentle one. He imagines the boy closing his eyes once again, feeling safe enough around Hajime to rest with him, letting himself be embraced by his friend.

Shaking his thoughts away, Hajime curses again. Even as the Ultimate Hope, those thoughts still didn't sit right inside his head– too self centered, not realistic enough to take seriously– yet they still consistently flow, as if mocking him.

At the start, he never had any free time to think. His first few days in the real world were incredibly rushed, focused entirely on him and the other survivors, their health and safety. Of course, none of them cared about themselves in the slightest, much more focused on their comatose friends and the world's condition, so it was a rather sloppy job– basic memory rundown as they came to terms with their mistakes, working through their thoughts as they stabilised themselves enough to stay alive. After a grand total of two days focused on themselves, Hajime finally got to work, making a copy of Alter Ego from restored code and then reconstructing Alter Ego in his own image to wake the others with the Psychdive System, so that slowly but surely, they would all began to rebuild. He was always busy at the start, so when things slowed to a stop and the only one left to wake was Komaeda, he let himself finally think. As the days melted into each other, stagnant with progress, he recognised he was totally, completely losing it over this boy– a difficult thought to deal with when he also has to worry about his friends and the food they're making, the supplies they're receiving and the structures they're building.. and, of course, that's not even touching on the therapy they all desperately need, (mostly because it's difficult to find therapists who aren't biased against you when you're the reason for all their other patients' problems) so obviously, he's struggling. A lot.

Presently, his friends forced him to take a step back in his leadership role until Komaeda wakes up, leaving Hajime with no distractions. He protested of course, informing them that he'll go crazy with stress over this unless he has something else to do, but they ignored him, saying he was ‘unreliable’ when worried. All because he zoned out in a meeting once and started talking about Komaeda's future eating plan instead of their sprinkler systems durability.. It's unfair. He knows they mean well, that he probably is nothing but a nuisance when he's dead to the world like he so often is, lost in his mind daydreaming about the future instead of doing any actual work, but what is he supposed to do now? Sit here alone for hours on end, reflecting on his feelings? Seriously? 

..Of course that's not the only option, they all constantly offer to hang out with him, wanting to help him take his mind off things and relax on the beach with them but.. how is he supposed to do that when Komaeda can't? He can't feel okay until he knows the other boy is, and, in all honesty.. he doesn't want to see anyone else right now.

His self-pitying train of thought is brought to a stop as World Destroyer speaks up again, sick of the silence.

“He just needs time.”

Hajime huffs, tiredly. His voice comes out in an exhausted, broken mumble. “..I'm so tired of waiting. I have.. so many things I need to tell him. So many things I've realised.. things he needs to know that I know. I feel like I'm leaving him behind like this.”

The pixels that make up World Destroyer flicker out of the corner of his eyes, presumably nodding. Hajime absently laughs at the situation, at himself. Pathetic.

“..why do I always end up like this, pouring my heart out to an AI?”

Noises from this throat signify ‘joy’, but they're false. Not forced, yet false.

“The same AI, technically. I'm you in every way– except physically, of course– but you built me on Nanami's leftovers, so.. perhaps you're just subconsciously reaching out to her through me. I cannot imitate her, but I can relate. I know exactly how you feel.”

Hajime rolls his eyes, smiling despite himself. “..You’re code, World Destroyer. You can't feel.”

“Yes I can.”

Hajime snaps his head over to glare at the screen, humour in his face fading. He said it so simply, as if Hajime was stupid for disagreeing. “No, you can't. You're fake.”

“Was Nanami fake?”

“.. the Nanami in the game was, yes. The feelings she gave me, gave everyone, were real… but she wasn't. All of her ‘emotions’ were just approximations, she was just a copy of the real Nanami, and you're- you're just a copy of me.”

“That's not how you really feel, though.”

His face tightens, what the hell is this guy's problem? “How do you know what I feel?”

“...Hajime, I feel as if you're forgetting I'm you.”

“B-but you don't even act like me!”

“Yes, that's true. I possess more of Izuru’s traits. ..Yet, by your own admission, you are both of them, correct? So.. I suppose I'm more like another facet of you. But I still feel everything you do, still think all of your thoughts.”

Hajime stays silent for a while, rolling the idea around in his head. Agreeing would be irrational, he's AI, but… he's a special case in the end, different from the rest by a large margin– after all, he is the byproduct of two Ultimate Programmers. Sighing, he decides that despite World Destroyer's misleading name, his AI would (probably) never exterminate the human race once he was granted his own independence like how the robots do in the movies, so it was (probably) fine to give up on arguing about it and just agree.

It's still scary though (those movies really affected him as a kid), so he rummages in his pocket to pull out a small chocolate bar, rewarding his own bravery with sweets as if he were a child.

“Ok, yeah. You relate. Uh… thanks, man. I guess.” He's only found a few of these from the fortnightly supplies given to them by Future Foundation, but it's more than everyone else has found as he's the only one with Ultimate Luck. He remembers that Komaeda doesn't like sweet things, something he learned from Izuru’s time. He wonders if, when Komaeda wakes up, Komaeda will bring Hajime all his lucky sweet finds because he himself doesn't want them. ..Hhhhh.. why can't he be awake already..

World Destroyer smiles, nodding. “You are welcome, Hajime.”

The conversation takes a pause as Hajime eats, and he thinks it's the end until World Destroyer casually mentions, “You're matching the holiday. I'm surprised.”

Hajime tilts his head, mouth stuffed greedily with chocolate. “Huhluhde?”

“Ah. You didn't know.”

Hajime raises his eyebrow, swallowing. “D’you mean.. uh, milestone? It's been fifty days since I made you and started all this, I guess that's something. Fifty-two since we got out.”

“Mhm. You escaped the simulation on Enoshima’s birthday, correct? Christmas Eve?”

Hajime soured at the mention, nodding solemnly. “Ugh, yeah. I'm still kind of pissed that something so important is related to her– not as mad as Ibuki though, jeez. She wanted to throw anniversary parties in the future, celebrate it all, but.. well, during the Tragedy Enoshima would use her birthday as an excuse to bring everyone together and just.. ugh. I don't wanna talk about it. But it really tore her up, that realisation… it's so unfair, how even now Enoshima still has this hold on us. …”

“Mhm. Not what I meant, though.”

He trails off from his rant, tilting his head once again. “Huh? What is it, then? What's today?”

World Destroyer goes back to playing with his hands, voice unnaturally soft as he speaks. “Valentine's. Fifty days since we started, it's Valentine's.”

..Ah.

Hajime doesn't mean to, but he still finds himself looking back down at Komaeda. Valentine's. …

“..I wonder if he would've liked it.”

“He did.”

Hajime stuffs the chocolate back in his mouth, tasting bitter for a moment before World Destroyer's words register. His eyes widen slightly, turning back to the screen, away from the boy who he totally isn't missing like crazy right now. “He did? You saw him celebrate in there? ..That makes sense.”

He smiles, a soft blush coming to his face at the idea– Komaeda trying to match the other Ultimates together, ranting endlessly about the ‘hope that would blossom from their love’ like the weirdo he is. ..God, just a couple months ago he would've been off put by that idea, why is it so appealing, so cute? He seriously misses the boy that much? ..fuck. His joy fades as he realises the most important thing though, deflating minutely. 

“..He had to spend it alone. ..that's just not fair.” His voice cracks. It's not fair– he wanted to spend Valentine's Day with him, desperately, hopelessly he wanted it, yet Komaeda had to spend the day alone, not because Komaeda didn't want him (he didn't want to seem like a egotistical asshole but.. with his own scientifically altered intelligence and Komaeda’s lack of subtlety, he's like.. 89% sure the boy likes him back) but because they couldn't reach each other. It's not fair, and he's used to that because nothing's fair but it hurts. He wants him so much it hurts and he can't have him. It's not fair.

“That's incorrect. He did not spend it alone. I could not bear that.”

..Huh? “Wait, you.. set him up with someone? ..I'm sorry, are you telling me you got Komaeda a mind boyfriend???”

He laughs despite himself at the absurdity, nibbling at the last bit of his beloved chocolate. He's slightly jealous, which is incredibly idiotic because the people in Komaeda’ mind aren't real, just parts of his mind disguised as people, but he's gradually learning to accept even his stupid emotions, so he acknowledges it for a split second, letting it pass and getting over it. The small, miniscule process is enough to leave him unguarded, which is exactly why the surprise affects him so heavily when it comes.

“Oh, no. It was me. I took him on a date.”

…

Hajime freezes in his tracks, only one thought on his mind. 

‘Oh my god.’

“He was very cute and affectionate once he realised I didn't want to murder him. We sat on the beach together.”

‘Oh my god. No fucking way.’

“I understand why you miss him so much. I don't know how I'll cope when he wakes up, honestly.”

‘No way. He's joking. He's joking right. Right. There's no fucking way an AI based off of me just stole my man. Right.’

“I even got to undress him.”

Hajime chokes on chocolate.

‘Oh my fucking god.

I've been cucked by a robot.’