Chapter Text
Nagito’s eyes flew open as he sat up and gasped for breath. His chest refused to rise as though the air had been knocked out of him. His lungs burned for oxygen like he hadn't been breathing for hours. His entire abdomen ached with a sharp pain that seared throughout his insides. It felt like his intestines were boiling in acid. He grasped at his stomach, feeling nothing but his own skin–something had been missing. An unsettling feeling of panic and dread had settled throughout his entire body,
Where was he?
The bright sunlight illuminating from the window mixed with the sleep in his eyes blinded him as he rolled over. Nagito dug his palms into his eyes, clearing away the sleep. He’d pressed so hard that when he opened his eyes again, all he could see was bright colors making star patterns as his vision adjusted to the light. He was greeted by a neatly kept room. The walls were beige and bare, save for the corners where they were beginning to yellow from age. A desk sat in the corner covered in brightly colored sticky notes he’d used as reminders–homework, chores, the likes. There was a textbook sitting in the middle of the desk covered in a thin layer of dust from not ever being opened–he never really needed to study for his grades. Next to the text book was a nice stack of mystery novels, all of which he’d read multiple times. On the other side of the room was a dark grey curtain billowing in the breeze from a window he’d forgotten to close the night prior. A small digital clock on a nightstand next to his bed read 6:23 in red, daunting numbers.
It was his bedroom.
He’d swallowed the little saliva in his mouth and rolled onto his back in relief. He caught his breath as though he hadn’t woken up gasping for air less than a minute prior. The pain in his insides was gone. It was like he’d imagined the whole ordeal. Despite just waking up, he was exhausted–mentally and physically. His shirt was completely soaked through with sweat and stuck to his skin in a gross, slimy kind of way. His lip curled in disgust at the feeling of the wet fabric. His fingertips brushed away the bangs that were glued down to his forehead with sweat. His skin was a little warm; maybe a fever? Though he didn't feel sick. Not anymore, at least.
He must’ve had a bad dream.
He traced shapes in the ceiling with his eyes and he listened to the birds outside his window chirping as he tried to recall what he dreamt about. Nothing would come to mind. Whatever it was spooked him subconsciously though. His eyes began to grow heavier. He’d genuinely tried to go back to sleep–he had thirty minutes before he needed to get ready for school, anyway–but every time his eyes closed for more than five seconds, a sense of impending doom would settle in his bones, startling him awake again.
Nagito groaned after a couple of minutes, pushing himself up. His joints ached slightly as he moved and his muscles felt stiff. He tiredly stumbled towards his bathroom while shimmying out of his sweat-soaked pajamas and discarding them haphazardly on the bathroom's tile floor as he went along. He’d kick himself for becoming such a slob once he was more awake, but until then, he couldn’t be bothered to take the detour to the hamper. He shivered as the cold air stuck to his damp skin despite the feeling being delightful in hindsight.
He turned on the water and sat to the side as he waited for it to heat up. He rested his head in his hands and let his vision unfocus as the mint green tiles were starting to give him a headache. The room seemed like it hadn’t been updated since the 70’s–when the dorms were first built. Nagito let the water run between his fingers to test the temperature before hopping in. It was one degree short of scalding. It was perfect. He stepped in the shower, the hot water instantly fighting off the chill he’d just been suffering from. His muscles relaxed and a noise of satisfaction left his throat. He could feel the energy surging through his veins.
He’d begun mindlessly humming a tune as he scrubbed shampoo into his hair. Closing his eyes tightly, he stepped into the stream of water.
“You’re going to make yourself sick.”
Nagito’s eyes snapped open, shampoo and water immediately getting into them and burning them. He cursed under his breath and tried to clear his eyes from soap with his fingertips, and then he cursed even louder when he realized his fingers still had bits of soap clinging to them. He’d almost forgotten what caused that knee jerk reaction as he held his eyes open under the stream of water, until he heard it again, but this time it was a different voice.
“I don’t care.”
He definitely couldn't ignore it now. Nagito lurched forwards towards the faucet. He’d almost slipped on the slick tiles while he shut off the water, barely catching himself on the wall with his forearm in a loud bang. The hair on the back of his neck was standing up.
The first voice responded in a hushed tone–it had been a female. The voice had sounded oddly familiar, yet not someone he recognized off the top of his head. Maybe he didn't speak to her much, or maybe he didn't know her at all. But what he did know for sure was that whoever it was did NOT need to be in his room, especially while he was so indecent. Nagito couldn’t make out what she’d said, but he could hear the sadness and sympathy ooze from it. He guessed she said a name, but he wasn’t so sure as it wasn’t a name he was familiar with.
“I don’t care.”
The responding voice was a male, a loud, angry one at that. The conversation sounded like it was happening right outside the bathroom door. Nagito grabbed the shower curtain and held it against his middle to keep from being indecent as he peered out of the shower. While the door wasn’t shut completely, it was closed off enough that Nagito couldn’t see into his room. The steam clouding the air wasn't much of a help either.
“Hello?” he called out, his hoarse voice cracking with fear.
“Everyone’s worried about you.”
The conversation continued as though Nagito wasn’t even there. The girl’s voice was much softer now.
“Let them worry.”
The man sounded stubborn in a way that felt familiar to Nagito. It was almost comforting. He leaned over to grab for his towel, his hand feeling around for the fabric as he refused to look away from the door.
“Who’s there?!” Nagito called out again as he draped the towel around his waist. He knew his efforts were fruitless, though, as the conversation continued.
“This isn’t like you.”
Nagito's worries about being murdered and/or robbed quickly dwindled as he grew more curious about the conversation. Well, he'd call it curious–his dad would say "nosey." He carefully stepped out of the shower, keeping his footsteps light as he slowly approached the door. Puddles were forming underneath him with every step as water dripped off his skin and hair. He was being cautious so as to not slip as his whole body was still trembling.
“... I’m sorry this isn’t what you guys thought I'd be like, but this is me.”
The man sounded exhausted, sad maybe. Something twisted in Nagito’s stomach as he approached the door. That feeling of comfort had also quickly dwindled. He was sure that if him yelling out wasn't going to catch the perpetrators’ attention, the sound of his heart beating out of his chest surely would.
“That’s not what I meant-”
“I’m not leaving him.”
Nagito froze with his hand against the door.
“I’m not going to leave him alone until he’s awake… Not again.”
An uncontrollable warmth spread through his chest. He was sure he hadn't felt this way since he was eight years old–wanted? Loved? He wasn't too sure, but it was a good feeling either way. The corners of his mouth were even involuntarily twitching up into somewhat of a smile as tears pricked the back of his eyes, though he couldn't put his finger on it as to why.
“.... What if he doesn’t wake up?”
The warm feeling immediately sunk, a cold dread replacing it. Nagito tried to swallow back any remaining tears nervously as his hand started to shake, his nails tapping feverishly against the door.
“Why the fuck would you even say that?”
“I’m-”
“Is that what you guys want? Huh? It’s what you guys are hoping for so you don’t have to deal with him?”
The man was crying now, sobbing even.
“No-”
“Get out.”
“Ha-”
“Get out.”
Nagito slammed the door open so hard he’d thought he broke a hole through the drywall when the doorknob made contact. There was no one in his room besides himself. He hadn’t realized how hard he was breathing, his lungs and throat sore and raw. The remaining tears that were in the back of his eyes had made their way down his cheeks, though now it was from the dread rather than the warm feeling he’d had. He’d stepped back into the bathroom, catching the sight of his reflection in the steam-soaked mirror. He leaned against the cool, white sink to get a better look.
The areas around his eyes were puffy with irritation. They rested above dark bags that displayed Nagito’s horrible sleep schedule. His eyes were bright red and wet. The red made his irises appear a darker green than their usual pale grey appearance. His skin was pale–paler than usual–most likely from the terror he’d just felt. His hair was already starting to curl back up into the unruly mess that usually rested on his shoulders despite it still being soaked. He looked like a hot mess. He used the back of his hands to wipe away the tears that remained in his eyes, trying to dry them the best he could so he could look somewhat presentable. He gently smacked his face trying to wake himself up. He’d obviously been hallucinating from his lack of sleep–shrouded in complete delirium.
That’s what he’d convinced himself, at the very least.
Nagito pushed himself up off the sink and took a step back to properly dry himself off before he ruined the flooring with his dripping. Unluckily for him, his foot ended up in one of the puddles he’d created earlier and slid out from under him. He landed hard on his back, his head being somewhat cushioned by the sweaty clothes he’d discarded across the floor. He wrinkled his nose in disgust that his laziness to put his clothes away saved him from cracking his skull open against the tile. Maybe the latter would have been a better option considering the morning he was already having. He propped himself up on his elbows with a groan. He could feel his spine bruising. If he wasn't awake before, he was definitely wide awake now.
What an unlucky day it was going to be.