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"Ah, Hinata-kun.. you really did come back after all. I didn't expect you to listen, haha."
The almost charmingly raspy chuckle (if not for his insanity) of the boy lying in front of him brought Hajime back to reality. Had he been zoning out? In a situation like this one? Unbelievable.
The walk there and the conversation prior to this one was already nerve-wracking enough.. and now he had to do it again? Worse, he had to actually feed the guy? Just plain absurd.
"Just quit it. I'm only here to feed you, nothing else. So don't make this.. weird."
He moved closer, somehow more reluctant than before. The sight really wasn't helping. His steps echoed throughout the room, a reminder that he was actually here. Actually doing this. Willingly.
Despite his hesitancy, Komaeda didn't seem bothered at all. Hell, Hajime didn't even think anything could bother this dude. In a way, His sick sense of hope could be read as really twisted and equally toxic optimisim. And he had mentioned he was pessimistic as an offhand comment. He couldn't be more wrong about himself if he tried. The contrast between how positive he came across and what he was positive about was drastic.
Hajime conjured up a mental image of Komaeda as a typical shounen protagonist with that same sense of hope and almost laughed out loud. That ought to ease the tension building up in his body. Hopefully.
Finally, he fully approached Komaeda with the cowardice of a prey animal, on the brink of being hunted, the realization of what's about to happen settling in. In this case, what was "about to happen" was a fate worse than death, decay or anything alike. It was coming face to face with a maniac to feed him. A tied up maniac, thankfully, but a maniac nonetheless.
"You know.. I was pretty bummed out to hear Mahiru was upset with me. But it's to be expected, it's me she was talking to. Scum like me should be grateful they even occupy space in a world with so much hope..! Especially without being of any use themselves other than fulfilling their duties of uplifting the ultimates as stepping stones." Komaeda babbled on irritatingly.
This was going to be a long day, huh?
Hajime annoyedly sighed at his antics and spat out alongside; "You know.. you probably shouldn't speak while eating. It's proper dining etiquette." And just to really drive home the point, he added on, "If you want to be of any use as a stepping stone or whatever, eat quietly."
Komaeda happily obliged. That odd terminology of his used against him seemingly worked to shut him up. Hajime knelt down in front of him and set the tray of food aside to haul the boy up so he could lean him against the wall. Without wasting a second, he reached for the toast and held it up against Komaeda's mouth.
Only then did it register just how close they were, but Hajime felt it'd be awkward to shuffle away now, so he stayed put. Strangely, this sight warmed his insides, but not exactly in a comforting manner. More like the stroke of hot air that stuck to his skin in a heatwave, except instead of feeling it on his outer body, he felt it on the inside. Somewhere dangerously close to his heart.
This.. predicament was likely caused by his earlier annoyance at Komaeda's snippet of a monologue. At least that's what he told himself. He didn't want to be in the same room as someone who's attempted murder before and was desensitized.. wait- no, that's not quite right, somewhat giddy about the death of another, let alone talk to him.
Komaeda took a bite. This definitely felt way more intimate than it had any right to be. Thank whoever's up there he quit sputtering nonsense about how bothersome he was, Hajime would've liked to say, but this was somehow more unbearable than his borderline insane rants about a world he turned dystopian through sheer willpower. Or, maybe, he just served to highlight how absurd this part of society, those who harbor talent were treated. Like they were elites.
Perhaps Komaeda really was a stepping stone. But not a stepping stone for hope, no. A stepping stone to better understand and unravel the strangeness of their reality. But it was no time to overthink it when he had bigger fish to fry at hand. Fish that looked suspiciously like a certain cloud-haired boy.
Hajime watched him intently as the piece of bread went down his throat, his adam's apple bobbing with it after the swallow. Good lord.
"I know how utterly nauseating I am to look at, so do yourself a favor and close your eyes. You don't have to look at filth such as myself."
Despite wanting to oblige, Hajime couldn't avert his eyes. So he brushed off his request and pushed down his thoughts of protesting, proving Komaeda wrong. Instead, he retorted;
"How would I even feed you if I can't see your face? Plus, it'd just be awkward." His retort had a tinge of irony, seeing as this (whatever it was) was awkward as is. Hajime continued holding up the toast and letting Komaeda bite, chew and swallow so he could repeat the process when eventually..
"Hey.. Could I have some milk as well? If it's not too much to ask for from an ultimate like yourself."
Having already guessed this would eventually happen, Hajime held up the small carton of milk before uncapping the top and resting it against Komaeda's mouth.
What? Huh?!
Komaeda took the rim of the opening in between his upper and bottom lips and started nibbling on it, before he noticed Hajime was staring.
"Sorry. Bad habit."
What kind of bad habit would involve the gnawing of a poor little milk container who was just there to do its job?
(And what kind of "feeding sesh with the homies" involve the gay awakening of a poor little guy who was just there to do his job, huh?)
Hajime couldn't find anything that could justify his weird actions. Call it the quirks of being a Deranged Flower. Uncreative, he knew.
"Uh.. Pardon?"
Hajime's brain buffered (and almost short-circuited. It was a miracle he was still having rational thoughts.)
Komaeda's reply was nothing short of his usual brand of annoying, if a little more leaning towards something that almost convinced Hajime his heart was a bird taking flight. Out of fear or worse, he didn't know.
"I chew on plastic bottles.. and..– milk cartons too, I suppose? I'm not quite sure either. Feel free to ignore me. Trash shouldn't be able to talk anyway."
If Komaeda was going to compare or equate himself to trash of any kind, Hajime thought a dumpster fire would be a more suiting title. But he didn't want to encourage any of this self-demeaning behavior, so he kept silent and waited for his long awaited sip of the milk.
Komaeda, taking the hint (finally), tilted his head back to show he was ready to drink. Hajime slowly brought the milk carton back to his lips and rested his hand atop somewhere between Komaeda's nape and the back of his head so as to support it as he sipped all the while trying his hardest not to show the blood rushing to his face.
That was absolutely not necessary. Hajime only realized it after the damage had been done.
The boy in chains clinked the chains in question to indicate he was done. His eyes were on Hajime throughout the entirety of this exchange and it had been nothing but awkward to break the eye contact.
Hajime would've liked to blame Komaeda because that would be the reasonable thing to do, right? But he found he couldn't, because it would be hypocritical. Why, he didn't know. (Maybe he did know. He just wasn't ready to admit to his enjoyment of all of this. He was too busy trying to feed the guy to dig up "newfound" feelings and think long and hard about whether grave robbing for emotions was legal or not.)
"Hey, Hinata-kun? Could I have some of the eggs as well?"
And like that, it continued. Hajime gave Komaeda a bit of everything and occasionally washed it down with some of the milk. Even if he didn't acknowledge it, Hajime's desire for this to last longer and his (almost too apparent on his face) disappointment when it inevitably ended was definitely present. But there was no roll call, so no need to announce your attendance.
"Thank you, verily..! Truly, I'm so lucky to have you, an ultimate, be willing to feed me! Not that you enjoyed it.. I could tell by your expression you were eager to leave."
Despite saying this, it felt as though Komaeda knew how Hajime truly felt and was just trying to get him to correct him. Then again, it could've just been him reading his emotions wrong purposefully to contort his flustered state into one of frustration. It wouldn't be out of character for him to think so lowly of himself. But it also wouldn't be out of character for him to tease him.
Hajime didn't want to entertain the possibility.
As quickly as he came, he was going to leave. That was that.
So what was holding him back?
"It's okay. I won't be offended if you ran without looking back. I know how hideous I am, no need to hide it from me. Ahaha!"
...
"That's.. not it. Sorry. I was just thinking."
Hajime wished he didn't notice the still prevalent proximity between the two. Komaeda was still leaned against the wall, with his legs tucked under himself. Meanwhile Hajime, still being a few inches apart, was still too close for comfort. Since he also had his legs folded, their knees were almost touching. Komaeda tried to lean a little farther away but accidentally bumped his head against the wall. Which, in true romcom fashion, bounced back closer. Almost an accidental kiss.
Both startled, Komaeda somehow managed to voice his words.
"Can I ask for one final thing, if it's not too much a bother?"
Hajime nodded. Yet he didn't know what he was agreeing to.
"Can you come back? If they don't let me out any time soon?"
To answer for him, his hand started wandering around Komaeda's face and rested on his jaw. Gently carressing. He leaned into the touch on instinct.
"Sure, okay. ..If you want me to."
Before long, Hajime regained his self awareness and slowly stood up. Flushed as an olympic runner after a marathon, he left. Leaving five words to accompany Komaeda for the rest of the day.
"Stay safe, Nagito. Take care."