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The soft thump of the closing door was barely hearable over the loud music played up by the speakers of the music venue, somehow still pumping and forcing Hajime to feel its presence despite stepping outside. It was a colder night, he noted, the wind blowing against the exposed skin of his arms had him shivering just a tiny bit, hands coming up to rub them.
Regardless, Hajime stepped closer to the end of what he supposed should be a parking lot, where the grass begun and the street for the other buildings of the third island they’d just discovered seemed to proceed. He lifted his gaze up, still grimacing a bit.
He hadn’t meant to step out, truly, for he enjoyed spending time with his friends. Mioda especially had seemed so excited to perform in front of them all, and despite the high volume and questionable lyrics, Hajime could say he quite appreciated the performance. She was the Ultimate Musician after all, so he guessed she was bound to create some insanely wonderful music.
And albeit this was surely a wonderful way for them all to take their mind off everything that had happened, Hajime still felt the overwhelming need to step outside for a mere matter of minutes and take a breath.
And so he placed his hands on his hips and sighed out, letting air slowly feel his lungs. Hajime had never been sensible to loud noises, but he could not help but feel some sort of overwhelmed.
Perhaps it was indeed the loud volume. Perhaps it was everything that had happened these days, which he couldn’t help think about over and over. Perhaps it was the worry he felt about Kuzuryu, whether his condition would stay the same, or if he would soon feel worse once more. Perhaps it was all of his friends’ screams that got to his ears the wrong way.
Whatever it was, Hajime merely couldn’t stay inside. Nanami had given him a worried look, but he’d soon smiled and told her not to worry. She’d nodded, and went back quietly clapping in rhythm with the song playing.
Hajime hadn’t truly bothered to stop and look to see if anyone had noticed him leaving, and he guessed that was okay. He didn’t need too much attention right now.
Togami would have probably followed him out.
Perhaps Hanamura would have made a joke.
Koizumi would have scolded him about leaving without saying goodbye.
Pekoyama would have said nothing, but she would have caught him in the moment he turned towards the door.
Hajime raised his hands to his face, letting out another sigh, slightly noisier this time. He rubbed his eyes, violently so, as if that would pry all the unpleasant thoughts out of his head.
Hajime was aware that what was done was done. What had happened was irredeemable, and there was no way they could go back and prevent it. Two people had died because of impulsiveness and recklessness and desperation to go back to what they once knew, and two other had been sent to an early grave to ensure everyone else would survive. Hajime himself had contributed to their death. Sometimes he wondered if that counted as murder, too.
Hajime looked back up at the sky. Pretty stars, a prettier moon shining through. He thought of it as fairly calming. Perhaps there would be a time where he wouldn’t feel watched the whole time.
It was always present, the unsettling sensation of eyes fixated on his every being. Observing his every move, that is what he felt, like someone out there was getting anything out of watching him lose his mind over trying his best to stay alive.
Hajime felt his jaw clench. At the very least, he thought, perhaps he should enjoy the brief moments of calmness he could concede himself.
But how long would it last, he thought as he moved his gaze towards the nearby buildings, before another murder begun? Hajime did want to believe in his classmates, but someone out there wanted a fight. Motives were given for a reason, after all, and it somehow always seemed to hit the right spot to make one of them break.
Hajime merely hoped he wouldn’t be the one to break, this time.
He didn’t think he could forgive himself if that were to be the case.
Shutting his eyelids tight, Hajime shook his head fairly quickly. No, he could not think like that. Hajime was not that kind of person. Sometimes he snapped at others, sometimes he got irritated, but he would never murder someone. Ever. That was not him.
Hajime would not hurt a fly.
Hajime was just trying to survive.
He grabbed his head again, softly pulling at the short strands of hair. He needed a break. He needed a moment of silence. Some good old peace and quiet that wasn’t disturbed by music or the maniacal laughter of a mechanic bear or the whines of a stuffed rabbit or —
“Hinata-kun, there you are!”
Or that. That.
Hajime fought hard against the groan that bubbled in his throat. He slowly turned his head, not hiding his frown and pursed lips as he took in Komaeda’s figure, who was leaning against the frame of the still opened door, his crown of soft-looking white hair moving against his face when his head was tilted, that v-like smile making him seem oh so innocent when he stepped out fully, letting the door fall shut behind his shoulders.
“I saw you get out earlier,” He said, as if Hajime had asked him. Which he had not. “I briefly wondered if I should have followed, and then thought you deserved your privacy.”
“Hm.” Hajime grimaced. “Then what are you doing here?”
“I got bored of letting you have your privacy.”
“…Of course you did.”
“What are you doing here, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda was smiling. He always smiled, always, but Hajime couldn’t feel reassured by it as he would have done once.
“I was just getting some air,” He mumbled in response, not all that certain why he was talking to him at all. “Can’t I?”
“My, my…” Komaeda lifted his hands up, “You surely get defensive often, Hinata-kun! I merely asked you a question, out of genuine curiosity of my heart…”
Sure. Of course he did.
Hajime closed his eyes. “Can’t you just leave me alone?”
“Always ever so rude, too…” Komaeda hummed, crossing his arms, “I was aware Hinata-kun was liked by the majority of his friends, but uhm… one might question why, if you act like this all the time.”
Hajime did not answer.
“Or perhaps… do you only act like this with me?” Komaeda’s lips curled up. Hajime’s jaw clenched for an answer.
Komaeda laughed. Openly, too, raising his arms up as well.
“Oh, my, I’m so honored!” He wheezed out, “Someone as hopeful as Hinata-kun reserving any sort of behavior to someone as insignificant as me… I’m so happy I’m getting goosebumps!”
“Can you shut up?” Hajime clenched his fists. “You irritate me, and your way of talking is annoying. That's all.”
“Only I do, however…” He was still smiling. Was that drool on his chin? Jeez. “Hinata-kun reserves an irritated behavior solely towards disgusting trash like me!”
Hajime, who was not in the right headspace to fight, not tonight, merely shook his head and looked back up.
If Komaeda wanted to run his mouth, he supposed, then so be it. Hajime really was not in the mood to call him out on his bullshit.
How could he act like this after everything that had happened within them, too, Hajime could never be able to tell.
Perhaps that was what they will forever be about. Komaeda would stay insufferable. Hajime would never be able to understand him. It sounded kind of depressing.
“Albeit…” Komaeda spoke up, a small hum leaving his lips. He’d dropped his arms back on the sides of his torso, giving Hajime one of his usual unreadable looks. “Exactly because Hinata-kun is never rude with anyone but me, it’s quite strange to see him leave so unexpectedly.”
Hajime frowned. He asked, “What’s so rude about stepping out for five minutes?”
“Humph.” Komaeda crossed his arms. “Mioda-san is clearly ever so enthusiastic to perform for all of us, Hinata-kun. That means she wanted to play for you, too, and you haven’t given her a chance to. I’m quite certain she is not going to take this at its best.”
“T-That’s—” He grimaced, “I couldn’t tell her while she was singing.”
“If there’s a will there’s a way…”
“Ugh.” He shut his eyes closed. “Whatever. I don’t care what you think. You’re probably just trying to confuse me.”
“I would never…”
“Yes you would.”
“Yes I would.” Komaeda laughed, and the sound was conflicting. Hajime would have loved to say he hated it, but he also was not keen on lying.
It merely made him feel weird. Like there was something clawing violently at his chest, like there was an itch he couldn’t properly scratch, and his heart would start quivering with all the nerves he felt. He wished he could go an entire week at the very least without hearing it, but the thought made his heart sink, for some reason, so he never wished all that hard on it.
“What are you really doing out here, anyway?” Hajime mumbled, hugging his own arms. Maybe he should have brought a jacket. “I doubt you just wanted to mock me.”
“Could it not be?” He tilted his head. “Do you put that past me, Hinata-kun?”
No. Definitely not.
But Hajime just lifted his shoulders in a shrug, one hand rubbing at the back of his neck.
“You wouldn’t want to concern an Ultimate like this.” He paused. “Or something.”
Komaeda clasped his hands together. His eyes were somewhat sparkling, and his smile was much wider than before; he looked almost eager, like a dog waiting for a treat if Hajime allowed his mind to wander just enough. Komaeda did look a bit like a dog anyway, he guessed if he had a tail right now it would be wagging.
Jesus Christ, what the fuck was he thinking about.
“You understand me oh so perfectly, Hinata-kun, just as expected from someone as wonderful as you!” He gushed, “Trash like me can only dream about the level of attention someone as hopeful as Hinata-kun gives to unworthy scum such as myself!”
Hajime just stared. He did not understand him, not at all. To him, Komaeda was a mess of swirling thoughts that tousled onto themselves and ended up in a bigger mess than he would have ever liked to deal with, and the mere reason why he knew more than others, perhaps, was because Komaeda was irritatingly good at making it so he was the only thing Hajime could think about most of his time. He couldn’t look away, and he really hated it.
He merely grimaced. He shook his head, looked ahead of them.
“It’s easy enough to guess.” He said, “Don’t get it twisted.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it…” Komaeda sighed, and it sounded somewhat dreamy, like his head was completely elsewhere. “Someone as talented as Hinata-kun shouldn’t pay this much attention to me, anyway…”
There was a knot in his throat. Why was there a knot in his throat.
Hajime had to clear it, several times. “You don’t even know what my talent is. It could be something so stupid.”
“As long as it is a talent brimming with hope,” Komaeda said, a hand to his chest, “Then it will fit you at your best, for Hinata-kun is one of the most hopeful people I have ever had the pleasure to meet in my miserable lifetime.”
He felt his cheeks heat up. Not that he enjoyed Komaeda’s praises or anything, no thank you. Hajime wasn’t all that naive.
“You didn’t answer my question.” He pointed out, very much willing to change the subject. “What are you actually doing here?”
Komaeda’s smile became somewhat smaller. He rolled on the balls of his feet, hands behind his back, gaze up to the sky above them.
“The music is still quite hearable, is it not?” He pointed out. Was that supposed to be a dodge? “Mioda-san seems to be quite passionate about volume.”
Hajime frowned a bit. It was indeed possible to make up the melody even if they were still outside, even if doors and windows were sealed shut.
“I guess so.” He said, “That’s just how speakers work.”
“Hmhm,” Komaeda closed his eyes, “Loud noises are not for me. I’m afraid a lowly bug like me can’t even stand to stay in the same room as of when something this noisy is playing more than long before suffering the worst migraine. Lady Luck is not going easy on me lately, hah…”
Hajime just moved his head in a nod. Komaeda had mentioned this before, if he remembered correctly. He didn’t think it would get this bad.
“You could go back to your cottage if you want to.” He suggested, “I’m sure they’ll understand.”
“Ah, I’m sure nobody would miss the miserable presence of the likes of me if I ever left,” He smiled, “But Mioda-san was so eager about letting us hear her music, I can’t bring myself to actually leave the scene.”
They let a few seconds pass. Komaeda then let out a small chuckle.
“And well, ah,” He turned his head downwards. Was that a flush under his eyes? Hajime couldn’t tell in the darkness of the night. “Hinata-kun seemed troubled when he stepped outside.”
“I…” He frowned further. “I did—?”
“You always have quite the bothered expression on your face, actually,” He smiled, “But, well, this time it seemed more… profound. I merely wanted to make sure everything was alright.”
Hajime looked at him. Looked at the way he kicked his foot, the way he played with one of the red strings of his jacket. He could do nothing but watch, really, because how exactly was one supposed to react to that?
Komaeda didn’t seriously care about him. Hajime wasn’t naive enough to believe him. Maybe he really was just overwhelmed by the loud noise, and thought that teasing him would get his mind off of it. That was all.
“…I’m fine,” He just said, “You don’t need to worry about me.”
“I suppose.”
Komaeda let another few seconds pass. He rolled on the balls of his feet again, let his hands rest behind his back.
“Say, Hinata-kun…”
He sighed, “Yeah?”
“Do you like to waltz?”
Hajime whipped his head around. Stared.
Komaeda stared back.
“To…” Hajime blinked, “What?”
“To waltz. The dance, Hinata-kun.” He raised a brow. “I find it rather amusing.”
“You dance—?”
“I know, how surprising!” Komaeda chuckled, “But, no, someone like me definitely isn’t talented enough to properly dance. I merely enjoy this singular move, however.”
“That’s… good for you—?” Hajime shook his head quickly. “I’ve never done that.”
“Ever?”
“Hm.”
“Ah.”
Komaeda pressed his lips together. He placed his hands on his hips, closed his eyes and threw his head back, making a show of thinking very, very hard, even going through the trouble of letting out a long, exaggerated “hhhmmmmmm” for several seconds, before snapping his eyes back open and smiling wide.
“Come here,” He said, and surpassing any kind of expectation Hajime could have had, snatched his hand in his own grip.
Hajime himself, who had been just standing there rather awkwardly and debating if he should just go back inside, jumped and barely had any time to react before Komaeda’s free hand sneaked around his waist and under his arm, right open on his lower back. He guided Hajime’s other, rather paralyzed hand on his own shoulder, and lifted the one he’d been gripping.
“H-Huh—?!” Hajime yelped, finding himself pressed a little too close than he would have ever approached someone like Komaeda in a normal lifetime, having to annoyingly tilt his hand slightly up to look at him in the eye. “W-What are you doing—?!”
“We’re going to waltz, Hinata-kun!” Komaeda smiled, like that was obvious. “The music is still hearable from the inside, after all!”
“What?!” There was probably an annoyingly logical reason as of why his cheeks were this flushed, but Hajime really didn’t want to think about it. He struggled a bit to put some space between them, but Komaeda kept stubbornly bringing him closer, so he just gave up. “Komaeda, l-let me—”
“You should widen your feet, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda said, like he hadn’t heard him. Or he was probably just ignoring him. He nudged his ankle with his own foot, “You won’t be able to keep your balance if you’re so stiff.”
“Komaeda. Let me go.”
Komaeda tilted his head. He blinked, “That’s not how waltzing works.”
“I-I don’t even know how to waltz!” Hajime protested, “Where is this even coming from?!”
The other frowned. His lips plucked in what could probably be described as a pout, letting out a small huff.
“Hinata-kun, you surely complain so much!” He sighed out, rather loudly, “I understand touching someone as disgustingly rotten as me must be outrageous, but I thought you’d be kind enough to go past it…”
“T-That’s not—!” Hajime let out a groan, “…At least lower your arm, y-you’re pulling mine too high.”
“Hah, sorry, Hinata-kun.” Komaeda did just that, and back to smiling he was. “Come on now!”
“Wait—!” Komaeda pulled him backwards, and Hajime stumbled, tripping in his step. He threatened to fall with his head against the other’s chest, and the thought was so embarrassing it made his face burn a brighter red. “Komaeda, I told you to wait—!”
“Less thinking more moving, Hinata-kun!”
“I don’t even know how to move!”
“Just follow my lead, Hinata-kun…”
“It’s clearly not working—!”
Komaeda had the guts to dip him. Hajime yelped, hands flying around Komaeda’s neck, which made the other boy wheeze out in glee.
Hajime glared at him, pointedly ignoring the skip in his heartbeat when Komaeda laid his forehead against his collarbones, and moved aside so they could face each other again.
Komaeda straightened up, and Hajime slipped his hands away from his nape. They found their original position, and once he’d stopped laughing, Komaeda gave him a smile that was full of clear amusement.
“Let me guide you, yes?” Komaeda said, adjusting his arm so he could hold Hajime better.
His heart was still going annoyingly quickly. Hajime gulped down a weight that had, for some inexplicable reason he did not want to think about at all, suddenly developed in the back of his throat, and albeit he was surely trying to get some distance between their bodies, his hand still insisted on tingling on the spots Komaeda was touching.
He turned his head around, staring at the street, head racing a mile. How had he gotten like this, when he’d just wanted to watch the sky and take a moment to breathe, Hajime really couldn’t tell.
He took a breath, letting his eyelids fall shut. “T-This is so stupid…”
“I call it fun, Hinata-kun.”
“You think murder is fun.”
“I would never. I merely believe it is useful to spring a brighter hope.”
“Ugh.” He shook his head. “Whatever. Fine. Do what you want.”
Komaeda tittered to himself. He gently nudged Hinata’s right ankle, poking it with the tip of his shoe.
“Move your foot backwards, Hinata-kun.” He instructed, smiling when Hajime awkwardly tried to comply. He hummed, “Like that, marvelous. Now, while you bring your left there as well, open open it and keep both legs apart.”
Hajime lost his balance at first, but Komaeda’s hand on his back was enough to stabilize himself. He cleared his throat, trying to follow the instructions and thanking everything that they were alone.
“Now…” Komaeda followed him suit, placing his left food forward, following Hajime’s movements. “Close your legs. Yes, let your right follow the left. Exactly like that, Hinata-kun, that’s so good!”
“T-Tune it down…” Hajime grumbled, but did as he said. “Now what?”
“Do the exact same, but forward. Switch your feet.”
He did so, and they went back and forth a few times. He did, in fact, feel a little stupid.
“Is this all…?” He muttered, glancing to the side. “Isn’t it kinda…”
“Ah, no, not at all!” Komaeda hummed, “Can you turn around?”
Hajime paused for a second. His eyebrow furrowed in a frown.
“Around—?”
“Hmhm,” Komaeda smiled, “Like… this.”
He swirled them both. Hajime lost the rhythm established in his feet, and stumbled, glaring at the laughter that predictably followed suit.
“S-Shut up—!” He barked, “You could have told me you were going to do that!”
“But I did!” Komaeda kept swirling, without losing his steps. Hajime, who’d long lost whatever he was doing, merely struggled to follow him. “No, not like that, Hinata-kun! You’re messing it all up!”
“Y-You’re the one going so fast!”
“I’m actually going rather slow, did you know?” He tilted his head, “The actual sequence is much quicker than this. I’m keeping it down, since you’re a beginner.”
Great. That was surely not just increasing Hajime’s already humiliating level of embarrassment. Surely he wasn’t a few seconds from running away in shame, no sir, not him. He ducked his head down, letting out a small hum.
“Would you like me to step up?” Komaeda wondered, “Maybe…”
He placed his foot on the right. Hajime struggled to get back into rhythm, but did manage to follow suit, so much so Komaeda gave him a more confident smile and picked up his movements.
It took Hajime a while to get he was trying to follow the faint instrumental they could barely pick up from Mioda’s song, still playing at its maximum volume from inside the venue.
Hajime doubted the melody was anywhere near the range of what could be considered a slow dance, but he guessed that was fine, for the moment, as they were not really doing anything that could considered professional. And Komaeda’s steps were anything but slow, so much so he still had to pull Hajime forward most times, so it was probably okay.
Sometimes, Komaeda would let go of him and spin Hajime around. A bit complicated with no warning at all, as Hajime was often on the verge of falling, but he was soon taken right back in an impromptu embrace.
“You could at least tell me you wanted me to spin…” He grumbled, poking Komaeda’s shoulder with the hand laying there. “You’re making me fall on purpose.”
“Me?” Komaeda smiled, “I would never!”
“Of course you wouldn’t.”
Komaeda pulled away, kept holding Hajime’s hand as he waltzed out of the way enough so their arms could extend, then pulled himself back in. His hands were quick to find their position once more, Hajime noted, so much so it suggested he was a lot more used to this than he let on.
Regardless, Hajime tried to follow him as best as he could manage, which was admittedly not a lot, but hey, he was putting himself in it a lot more than he originally thought he’d ever would usually be willing to.
“You’re…” Hajime paused, struggled to remember which foot he should put in front of the other. “You’re really good at this.”
Komaeda tilted his head. He really had to stop doing that, Hajime thought, it looked a little too good with the way his hair followed, or the way it seemed to enlarge his eyes, or…
“Ah, thank you.” He smiled, “I’m merely used.”
“…Do you just happen to waltz a lot?”
“Not… exactly.” Komaeda hummed, lifting his head up for a moment. “I’ve told you my parents were quite opulent, yes?”
Hajime paused. “Yeah?”
“Their standards were quite high when I was a child.” He shrugged, spinning Hajime once again. “People would be over to our house often. I was taught how to properly dance with family friends since I was a small boy.”
Hajime frowned a bit. Komaeda had mentioned his parents once, when he’d gone a little crazy like he always did and told Hajime absolutely everything about his luck cycle. The way his parents had died, and he’d received a massive inheritance from it.
Komaeda had also said he had no relatives, either, nor anyone that cared about him for that matter. For the rest, he insisted he was fine like that, and never truly spoke about what his childhood had truly been like.
Hajime was not rich. His family had some money put aside for as much as he remembered, but for he couldn’t recall the reason he was accepted at Hope’s Peak Academy, he also could not tell why he could barely pictured annoyed if not hesitating faces whenever the school was mentioned. He doubted it was for economic reasons, given the main course was completely free.
Perhaps it was just for something else.
Despite expectations and anxiety that had plagued his middle school years, Hajime could believe he at least had two people that loved him there and ready to support him. He wasn’t sure if that could be true for Komaeda, too.
“That sounds… hard.” He could make out at last, giving Komaeda’s serene smile a questioning look. “How old were you?”
“About five, I recall.” He nodded to himself. “They died about four years later, you see, so they never truly gave me all that much credit.” A small pause, “Ah, not that scum like me actually deserves any sort of praise! Please do not misunderstand me, I let my disgusting mouth run free as usual, Hinata-kun…”
“…It’s fine.”
Komaeda was always like this. Hajime couldn’t recall having one conversation with him that didn’t include some sort of self-deprecating comment. It was getting irritating as it was painful to listen to.
“Regardless…” Komaeda laughed lightly, “I always found waltzing quite calming.”
Hajime raised a brow. He registered the brief ache in his knee, the cramp his arm was surely going to develop from staying upwards this long.
“Calming?”
“Surely.” He nodded, “Isn’t it quite fun, too?”
Komaeda was the one spinning in place, this time. Hajime wasn’t sure why, but he really focused on it. On the way his hair moved, on the way his shut eyelids cast delicate shadows on his pale cheekbone. On the way his body moved without an issue. On the way his eyes seemed to sparkle when he opened them again.
The world seemed to have gone pink for a matter of seconds, which was odd, because it was really dark in there. Perhaps it was just Monokuma trying to mess with them. Or something.
“Waltzing always calmed me down.” Komaeda said, “I would do it alone in my home when things got too overwhelming, too.”
Hajime paused. “How do you dance something like this alone?”
“I have my ways!” He declared, which probably meant he danced with a pillow or something. “I would just focus on the music and let everything else fade away.”
Hajime was perhaps going crazy, because he could swear there were circles being drawn on his lower back. Komaeda stepped forward, Hajime went back, and they turned, did it all over again.
“Your thoughts are allowed to run to a safer space,” Komaeda said, “are they not?”
Hajime looked at him. And it hit him, for the first time since they’d started this whole nonsense, that he hadn’t thought about his begone friends once.
He met Komaeda’s eyes. The latter just smiled.
Was it naive, to believe this was his objective all along? To make Hajime feel better, even if just a little bit?
It wasn’t really the first time Komaeda did something like this. He was irritating, often more annoying than anyone else Hajime had ever met, but he could swear there was always a purpose. Komaeda’s teasing was often aiming to make the others, Hajime, feel better about something. There were times where he’d break fights by making himself the objective and common victim of the aggression by teasing the two. There were times where he’d distract someone from whatever was overwhelming them by saying something so out of topic to make you baffled. There were times where he insulted himself, just so you could roll your eyes at him and forget you were about to do something else.
Komaeda didn’t always have good intentions, but Hajime guessed he didn’t always have bad ones, either.
“They…” Hajime gulped. “They do.”
Komaeda’s smile widened.
And then he puled him closer, a little too much, his forehead on Hajime’s shoulder. He wasn’t moving his feet anymore, and Hajime could still feel the upward curve of his lips against the cloth of his shirt.
His heartbeat spiked again. What the hell was up with him today, seriously.
“Uhm.” Hajime cleared his throat. What was up with his throat, too. Why was it always stuck. “What are you doing?”
“It’s part of the choreography, obviously.”
“…I’m pretty sure it’s not.”
“Humph. You never trust me.”
“Huh-huh…”
Komaeda stayed there, and Hajime let him. For some reason he couldn’t put a finger on.
“Hinata-kun is really warm.” He then said, and Hajime flushed. Which probably made said warmth a little worse, but whatever. “And comfortable.”
Hajime awkwardly reached to pat the back of his head. “Uh. You’re, uh, an inch taller than me. Doesn’t your back hurt—?”
“Hm. Not particularly.” Komaeda paused, “Ah, pardon me. Having insignificant scum like me lean on an Ultimate this way is certainly unsightly.”
Hajime sighed out. “…No, it’s fine. Do what you want.”
Komaeda let out a breathless chuckle. His hands moved, both of them shifting to Hajime’s back, one still low, the other on its upper side. Komaeda pushed himself closer, and it took a second for Hajime to truly register this was supposed to be a hug.
He wasn’t all that certain of what to do. He just shifted his hands so they could rest on Komaeda’s shoulders, and turned so his red face wouldn’t be visible.
He wasn’t sure as of why he was this frustrated. Perhaps it was because they didn’t touch like this often. Or ever, for that matter. They just never did things like this, and that was okay, perhaps. New things. New experiences with a guy that was severely mentally unstable and expressed his willingness to help out a murderer if they showed themselves to be hopeful enough.
New experiences with a person Hajime still stubbornly cared about.
He let his eyelids fall closed.
“Komaeda…?”
He heard a hum. “Yes, Hinata-kun?”
He counted the seconds. He wasn’t sure as of what he wanted to say himself.
“…Thank you.” He hesitated, “For teaching me how to waltz, I mean.”
“It is my most beloved pleasure for trash like me to serve an Ultimate, Hinata-kun.”
“…You can just say you’re welcome.”
“How boring.”
Hajime rolled his eyes.
Komaeda squeezed him a little tighter, however, so perhaps he actually got what Hajime was trying to say. He really hoped so.
He could stay like this a little longer, maybe. Perhaps they could slip away and go back to their cottages. They’d talk about nothing, and Komaeda would say something so frustrating and confusing to make Hajime stop talking to him for a while. In the end, he suspected they’d always go back to be like this.
They always did, anyway.
Their bubble was burst the moment the door was slammed open, and the both of them jumped away from each other soon enough to see their friends rush out of the venue, towards the bridge.
“W-What the—?!” Hajime stuttered, managing to snatch Nanami’s arm in his hand. “Nanami, what’s going on?!”
Nanami stumbled. She was frowning, her lips pursed, and she looked at the both of them rather seriously.
“Hinata-kun,” She said, “Owari-san is fighting Monokuma on the beach.”
Hajime blinked. He and Komaeda shared a look, and the three of them rushed over to the bridge, too.
Calmness could only last so long on that island, he guessed.