Chapter Text
Just like that, the Trial is over.
Everyone piles back into the elevator, heads hanging and eyes darting back and forth with distrust. Nagito is so close to Hajime he might as well be a sticker on his side, pale eyes closely watching both Souda and Nevermind. Hajime can't make himself look at them, emotionally exhausted from the whole ordeal. There may also be some exhaustion left over from his sickness, and now that he's not in a life threatening situation, he can really feel that tiredness setting in, clawing into his body and gripping tight.
Chiaki is at his otherside, face hidden by her hood, eyes downcast.
No one stands near Souda or Nevermind on the elevator. Nevermind keeps her head shut and her chin held high, and acts as if this fact doesn't bother her. Souda stays closed in on himself, pulling at pieces of the metal scraps he’d gathered.
A heavy silence falls over the occupants of the elevator. No one wants to speak. To address what needs to be done.
Surprisingly, it's Tanaka who speaks up, “We must restrain the enemies and keep them locked away, so that they may do no more harm.” His voice is hard, and Nevermind’s eyes flash to his face, wide and shining with tears. He doesn't look back at her. “I propose that I handle Souda while Komeade deals with the siren.”
Nevermind looks at the ground, eyes screwing shut tightly. A few tears escape her eyes, but she says nothing, and makes no noise.
If Hajime wasn't angry with her, he might have sympathized with her. But no. She still sacrificed Akane, and tried to sacrifice him.
At the moment, Hajime wishes he’d been the one to die, and not Akane. She hadn’t deserved that.
“I’ll go with him to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid,” Fuyuhiko says, arms crossed over his chest as he leans against one of the walls. Nagito frowns.
He glances at Hajime, but Hajime doesn't look back. He's so tired, he can feel the eye bags on his face. His eyelids are weights over his eyeballs, and his muscles feel like lead. All he wants to do is lay down.
Nagito hesitates, and so Hajime finally musters up the energy to glance up at him. He forces a smile despite how sore his cheeks were from grinning nonstop the past week. “I’ll get some rest,” he reassures the taller boy. “I’ll head back to my hut. You can check on me later.”
He's almost surprised with himself. Just a week ago, he would have never thought of saying anything like that to Nagito. He would have rather been caught dead than alone in a room with the pale boy. But now, he doesn't mind the fact, since Nagito had been the one alone with him in a room the past week already. The one who had been alone in a room with him and had taken care of him. At this point, Nagito is the one Hajime trusts most in this island, with Chiaki as a close second.
Which, again, not a thought Hajime ever thought he'd have.
“I’ll go with him,” Chiaki says quietly from beneath her hood. She shares a look with Nagito, until the pale boy finally relents, nodding.
“I will, then,” Nagito says to Hajime’s relief.
At some point during the long elevator ride, Hajime ends up leaning against Nagito, hardly taking notice of this fact. The taller boy says nothing of it, and remains still so that Hajime isn't jarred.
Everyone files out of the elevator once it's reached the top, and Tanaka grabs one of Kazuichi’s hands, causing the mechanic to yelp with surprise. He chews on his lower lip, looking at the taller boy with slight fear. Nagito scoffs, but looks at Hajime one more time before he and Fuyuhiko make their way to Sonia. Hajime would have normally stayed to watch, but exhaustion claws at his body, and all he wants to do is sleep.
He falls into step with Chiaki, neither breaking the silence that quickly falls over them. Hiyoko and Ibuki trail behind them, also remaining silent.
Thoughts of the Trial flash through Hajime’s mind, from voting for Akane to the realization that Kazuichi had been the one to try and kill him. He feels sick all over again, so he pushes those thoughts away and focuses instead on the thought of collapsing in his hut’s bed. It may not be his bed back home, but it would have to do as long as they're stuck here.
They make it to the island they'd started off on, and Ibuki and Hiyoko peel away from Hajime and Chiaki. Chiaki stays with him until they reach his hut, where they both pause.
“Thanks,” Hajime says to break the silence. Chiaki glances up at him, a questioning gaze on her face. He explains, “For being there for me. During the Trial, I mean.”
Chiaki smiles at him gently. It seems only a bit forced. Hajime likes it. “Well of course, Hajime,” she says. The shadow of her hood hides her eyes, but he can tel she is genuine. He’d know, anyway, since he trusts her. He probably shouldn't, due to every past event happening proving to him that he needs to be less trusting, but there is something about her that eases those doubts. It would be tiring to distrust her, anyways.
She and Nagito are the last two people Hajime fully trusts on the islands at this point. The thought scares him, that he has to be cautious of everyone else. And that Nagito is one of the most trustworthy people here. That’s saying something.
“Now, go get some rest,” she urges, nodding towards his hut. “You definitely deserve some.”
He smiles at her a moment longer and nods in return, pushing inside of his personal space. He waves her off, and she does so as well, before disappearing further down the line of huts.
He makes his way to his bed, finding the covers and sheets to be a mess from the day he’d woken up sick. He doesn't think of that morning, or the following days that were filled with horrible, tremendous pain. He kicks his shoes off, unbuttons his shirt, and flops on top of the squishy mattress, not bothering to slide his pants or socks off.
His eyes grow heavy instantly, and he relaxes into the comfortable bed, sighing into the sheets. He nuzzled against one of his pillows and let his eyes slide shut, slowly slipping into a- thankfully- peaceful sleep.
…
Hajime wakes with a start to the sound of knocking on his door. He sits up, his head full of cotton, his vision blurry. He looks at the nearby window, finding it to be dark outside. Did he sleep for a short time, or has it been a long time since it's dark again? He shakes his head and pushes to his feet, blinking rapidly to be able to see. For some reason, his entire body tenses at the thought of someone at his door. He can already feel distrust clawing at his stomach.
There's another knock.
Steeling himself, he stumbles to his door, limbs so heavy he feels as if he's walking through tar. He leans with one hand against the frame and then slowly opens the door with the other, peering around the edge to see his guest.
Ah, it's Nagito. He feels his shoulders slouch with relief.
“Ko,” he says lightly, and Nagito’s face brightens. His expression had been twisted with worry and concern, but as soon as his eyes landed on Hajime he’d relaxed as well. His hair appears to be messier than usual, with some strands of it getting in his face. “Hey.”
“Hello there,” Nagito says in response, giving a small, and unnecessary hand wave. “I wanted to drop by to see how you're doing.” He smiles softly. “I'm glad to see that you are alright.”
“Better than I was before, that's for sure,” Hajime says with a chuckle. They fall silent, the cool, night breeze brushing through their hair and against their skin. He hadn't realized it until now, but his skin was a tad damp, probably due to the stuffy warmth emanating from inside his hut. He pauses, wetting his lips, not entirely sure how to broach the subject. He wants to thank Nagito; for watching over him when he needed it most, for protecting him, and most of all, caring for him in the first place. Not many people did. His parents hardly did, either, too wrapped up in their work to worry about their child. He wasn't used to the affection that came with a relationship.
“Well, you must be tired,” Nagito says, carding his fingers through his pale hair. “I shouldn't have woken you up to begin with, you're most likely too tired to deal with trash like me. Bye now.”
His goodbye is as abrupt as ever, and it hard Hajime back to the present. He quickly catches the taller
boy’s thin wrist, his heart thumping in his chest, his pulse throbbing through his veins. He doesn't want Nagito to leave. He's afraid to be alone now. Terrified of it, actually. He hardly remembers the last week, but what he does remember was the warmth of Nagito’s careful hands caring for him. He swallows heavily when Nagito looks back at him with surprise, his pale eyes wide and his lips slightly parted.
“Could…” he trails off, clears his throat. He doesn't meet Nagito’s gaze, his face burning. “Could you stay with me?”
Nagito hesitates, and Hajime can feel his face heat up further. He clears his throat and quickly releases Nagito’s hand, crossing his arms over his chest to try and regain some form of dignity. “Forget I said anything,” he mumbles, horribly embarrassed. Of course that was stupid to ask. Nagito was only with him for so long because he'd been sick. And not for any other reason. “Good night, Ko.”
He turns, but suddenly, his wrist is grabbed tightly. He stops in his steps, heart skipping a beat as long, cold fingers enclose around his pulse line. He looks back over his shoulder to find the taller boy smiling, and he huffs, trying to alleviate some of the pressure of his embarrassment.
“Only if you really, truly wish to put up with someone as awful as me,” Nagito replies finally, and if Hajime didn't know better, he'd say the taller boy is flushed red in the face. Maybe it's the lighting. “I would not mind staying with someone with as much beautiful hope as yourself.”
Why does that sound like Nagito is flirting? Wouldn't that technically be his way of flirting? Hajime thinks so, but that couldn't be it at all. He suddenly can't speak due to the thought, and he shifts on his feet, eyes darting to a spot on the ground behind Komaeda.
“Right then,” Hajime says, wetting his lips. Nagito hasn't released his grip on Hajime’s wrist, but Hajime can't find it in himself to care too much. “Come in, then. If you're not busy that is.”
“I'd never be busy when it comes to you,” Nagito replies easily, and Hajime huffs out a laugh. Ridiculous boy.
Oh. He should probably ask about Souda and Nevermind. He will in a moment.
They step into the heat of Hajime’s hut from the chilly night air, and Nagito’s grip finally slips from his wrist. He almost misses the touch from the other boy, but doesn’t say anything about it. He trudges back to his bed and perches on its edge, before remembering that Nagito is now there and standing in the center of the room, staring at him awkwardly. He's wringing his hands together, lips pressed together. He doesn't know what to do.
And neither does Hajime, honestly. He didn't think about what would happen after the pale boy entered his hut.
Hajime clears his throat, and before he knows it, he gestures to the space on the mattress beside him. Nagito’s eyes widen with disbelief, but he slowly makes his way over, lowering himself as if he was about to sit on a thin, glass chair.
Another silence falls over them. Hajime swallows heavily. He enjoys Nagito's presence, and feels much more at ease with the taller boy beside him, but he's also not sure what to do now that he is with him.
He might as well try and speak.
“So what happened to Souda and Nevermind?” he asks to start off with. He's not sure if he's ready to thank the taller boy yet.
Nagito’s eyes narrow at even the thought of the two. He scoffs, crossing one of his legs over the other. “We took them to the motel. Kuzuryo got some rope while Ghundam and I kept an eye on the two traitors,” he growls out the last word, one set of his nails digging into his thigh. Hajime glances down at it with a frown. He may hurt himself doing that. “Then, once we tied them up, we agreed that Ghundam and Kuzuryo would take the first shift. We’ll take the next one, and then Ibuki and Nanami the third.”
Hajime nods in response, but doesn't take his eyes off of Nagito’s hand. His nails are pressing down hard, much too hard for Hajime’s liking. Before he can think better of it, Hajime reaches out and gently grabs the offending hand, guiding it away from Komaeda’s thigh before intertwining their fingers. His hand is cold again, and Hajime hopes his warmth will thaw his skin out. Nagito’s eyes widen considerably as he stared at their clasped hands, and Hajime thinks he can feel his pulse quicken through his thin skin and bony fingers. He could be imagining it, though.
The room is dark, save for the few streaks of moonlight piercing through the nearby window. It's just enough light for Hajime to see Nagito’s pale face, nearly the same shade as the silvery moon. He looks almost angelic, with the way the light reflects from his white hair.
He looks almost like the moon. Hajime has the moon in his hand.
“Thank you, Ko,” he says. The taller boy looks back at him, silent. “For… for everything. Thanks for… being there when I was sick. And for stopping me from… ya know.”
Nagito is silent for a moment, his mouth hanging open, his eyes catching the moonlight. Hajime is nearly entranced by it. How has he never realized how gorgeous Nagito is? He wants to berate his past self for not seeing it sooner. But he’d do that later. For now, he focuses on the way Nagito’s hand fits almost perfectly in his, and the way it feels as the pale boy’s thumb traces circles on the skin between his forefinger and thumb. It feels almost like the moon's light is being traced into his skin.
“Of course, Hajime,” Nagito replies finally, his voice earnest. At some point, he'd gotten closer, and their knees bump together now, not that Hajime pays that much mind. Komaeda’s eyes flicker downwards for a moment, before returning to his gaze. He feels his cheeks flush at the possibility of what he’d glanced at. “You always fill me with so much hope. I'd never want anything to happen to you…” He pauses, head lowering. “But I still don't understand why someone as amazing as you could ever see anything worthy in someone like me.”
Hajime fondly shakes his head, giving Nagito's hand a light squeeze. With his free hand, he cups the pale boy’s chin, tilting his head back up. Their faces are closer now as Hajime leans in ever closer, their breaths mingling, their mere noses inches apart.
“Because, Ko,” Hajime says softly, his hand warning Nagito’s face. Nagito leans into his touch, eyelids drooping with love and admiration. Hajime almost breaks under that gaze, almost loses the sudden bout of courage he's been flooded with, and almost backs away. But he grabs onto it tight, and doesn't let it go. “You're worth so much more than you think. Especially to me. You may not see yourself as much of anything, but to me, you're like the moon.”
“The moon?” Nagito repeats, his eyes opening wide once again, his voice tiny with disbelief. He looks like he wants to draw away, but Hajime keeps him close.
“The moon,” Hajime says once more with a small smile. “You're beautiful and silver, and you light up even the darkest of nights and places. You were the beacon, the moon to me when I was lost in the dark the past week. You're amazing.”
Nagito’s breath catches, tears glazing over his pale eyes. Hajime wipes one that escapes from the corner of his eye, chuckling softly. “I wish you could see yourself like I do,” Hajime whispers, unable to look away from Nagito’s silvery light. Even his tears catch the moonlight just right, making it look like streaks of liquid silver running down his cheeks.
Hajime honestly almost doesn't know where all of this came from, these feelings and thoughts and words. But then he thinks back over the past week, the past few weeks and knows. His feelings for Komaeda were an ever growing caterpillar, which slowly cocooned itself until it was finally able to break free as a moth after the stressfulness that had been the last Trial. Now that there is a moment of calm, he's finally able to see that moth, fluttering with the moon guiding it.
When did he get so poetic?
Nagito lets out a small cry, before finally closing the space between them, their lips sliding together. Hajime gasps with his own surprise, before relaxing into the kiss. Nagito’s lips are just as cold as the rest of the boy, tasting of silver and the moon.
They sleep close to one another that night, and the following nights, too. Wrapped close and around one another, basking in each other’s light.