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In this town, there was one thing in common between all the denizens it possessed: that same, disconcerted, glazed stare. To Komaeda, it was like he was living in a town full of ghosts. To Komaeda, it was like he was the only self-aware corpse amongst the zombies.
And to Komaeda, it was like the world was a broken record.
Once he had moved here all those years ago, he seemed to lack that poetic spark in him, the one that made him say a thousand sentences within five words. He was full of candour, and he was full of a humble gallantry that he flaunted like he were a go-go dancer. There was a glimmer in his sickly eyes that somehow had people on their heels, gawking to find his meanings.
But when you move to a town so devoid of colour and seemed to lack the merits of life, no matter how much you try to believe you won't let it get to you, it always did.
His personality began to collect dust, and soon enough his mind which so contrasted his dull beauty, began to dull too; he soon blended into the walls, the floors, the chairs and the tables.
But hey, it could have been worse.
The town was much safer than his old one, it lacked the dangers of humanity that assailed Komaeda prior to his migration. Was that to say it made Komaeda feel any safer? Not at all. In fact, one could definitely argue it made him feel like his life was ending. The cracks on the buildings, the potholes of the roads and the outdated cars reflected his own diseased body. It was all beginning to come to it's demise, and now he couldn't help but be reminded.
Soften the blow, pick up another rotten stick of cancer and just let it happen. That's what Komaeda began to think, and soon his countenance became rugged and sunken with the throes of hypocrisy.
With a flick of the wrist, the red of the match transformed into aureate arms of sunlight orange, flowing softly like silk. The way that Komaeda liked to light his smoke was strange, some may say impractical. He liked to light the spiced-berry candle beside him, set it on the railing of the pub's balcony he always seemed to find empty, and light his smoke and slot it back between his teeth. It earned him a few looks, however there were not enough people in the tavern at all to ever truly cause some gossip. In a way, Komaeda wished there was some weird little goss-group on him. Atleast then he'd find some other emotion in those thoughtless eyes of the people other than boredom or indifference.
It's midnight, it's cold, the breeze is gentle and the sky is clear with an abundance of stars in her canvas. So classically poetic, yet it for some reason could do this city no good.
With a closed-mouth, he let out a heavy exhale. If he were the man he were a year ago, he would be sick of this lifestyle already. But even those emotions were to outrageous in the lifeless city; so all he could do was lean against the metal railing and bury his head in his hands, as if trying to comfort himself. He's beginning to feel frustrated, yet somehow even that felt like a trapped emotion in his heart. He's clawing at the walls of his locked disposition and it's grating at him.
With a groan, he throws his head back and pulls against the railing to lean back, arms slightly flailing as he almost missed- and in the right corner of his peripheral he watches the hue of warmth fall from it's position- shit.
With a slightly delayed gasp he reaches down quickly, and yet even though he was the closest to the candle, he was no match for the much more tanned and quick hand to grab the candle which seemed to put out the flame on it's fall down.
"..Perhaps it's better not to place a candle there."
The hand slowly put the candle onto the circular table and wiped off the bits of hardened wax which landed on the surface of it's skin.
With a few short blinks, he continued to stare at the candle. Oh how he pitied it- the life was now gone. The rays of life it beamed with, all gone. All gone. His lips tugged at his cheeks downwards.
"..Perhaps so.. Apologies, I wasn't looking properly."
"Ah, so I saw. You seemed to be in your head for quite a while."
Hm. That tweaked something small in him. "A while?"
"A while indeed. In fact, it seems to be that way every time you come here."
Even more fuel to this glowing spark. With a raise of his eyebrow, he finally looked up at the figure.
"So, you're saying you've been watching me? Every time I come here? Is this a shoddy stalker excuse to finally talk to me then?" It was clear in his tone that it was a tease simply to pick up some form of feigned charisma in the conversation, although it was obvious that the other didn't reciprocate well, atleast in the other's case.
Because once he accused him, the other seethed a breath through pearly whites which were framed so softly with two shades of lips and his eyes of a calming sage seemed to widen slightly as he slighted his words, the hue of his cheeks reddening with embarrassment.
"H-Hey, that's far from what I was doing. You just- come here a lot. It's hard not to notice when we both seem to sit in our same spots each time."
"Oh? So where do you sit?" Komaeda could see a small twinge of disappointment, perhaps it was because the other expected to know where he sat too, but truly could you blame the man if he always walked with his head down? It makes it very hard to notice everyone else around you, if you couldn't already deduct.
He pointed his evidently scuffed fingertip at the table in the corner inside of the tavern, next to the stairs and also to the bathroom. He grimaced slightly at the thought of sitting in a place where footsteps were loud and the sound of excretion probably even louder. It made Komaeda do a double take on the man he was talking to, looking back at him with the obvious intent of analysing him.
Brown hair, so plain. A red hoodie with the average brand name slapped on it, also very plain albeit a bold colour. A pair of beige chinos to hug his legs, and a pair of atrocious shoes which arguably was not plain at all, infact it made him squint his eyes ever so slightly.
And then back to his face. It seemed the other had noticed by then he was observing the man top to bottom, making him shift in discomfort and awkwardness.
"Your name?"
"Huh? Uh- Hinata Hajime- sorry- are you checking me out right in front of me?"
Ah- whoops. He supposes that is what it looked like. It made Komaeda blink a few more times, and he could feel a heat sprawl out on his face, neck and ears.
"Hinata, I've heard so many people with that last name. Hajime is no different. And to put the two together... In a way, that's quite unique."
He hummed and began to turn back to the view in front of them, leaning against the balcony, this time leaving some space for Hinata Hajime to join him.
"I'm not sure if I should thank you for saying it's unique "in a way", or huff at you for practically saying I have a commoner surname and forename." That made his lips twinge with a smile, nose exhaling small breath.
"I can assure you, I'm not trying to offend. Sometimes I sound a little harsh with what I truly mean.." Komaeda explained as the other soon rested his forearms on the iron border.
"Fascinating, I imagine you're a journalist or a writer? They usually have the skills to deceive without the intent."
"Formerly a writer. Once I moved to this town, it practically stripped me of my ability to write effusions."
"Ah, really? I always thought this town was quite the place to get some creativity."
"..How so? It's so devoid, so dull-"
"But isn't that poetic? To live in a town so barefaced in it's hopelessness. That's an easy book to write, if you have the heart."
Instinctively, Komaeda reached for another smoke, as the one prior had been ruined of course, and looked around for his matches- only to see a lighter now aflame in front of him by those same tanned hands. He hummed his gratitude and began to inhale the fumes with closed eyes.
"..That sounds like something I would have said before. Perhaps you're some time-travelled version of me?" That evoked a small chuckle from the other, and it felt like it had been ages since Komaeda heard such a thing.
"Maybe if you tell me your name, I can see if it sounds even the slightest similar to my own? Parallel universe theory stuff."
"Komaeda Nagito."
The ivory-haired boy watched the man, tilt his head up, feigning a cartoonish face of thought as he tapped his chin.
"Ah, I'm afraid we sound nothing alike. A shame, I sort of hoped to be a poet in a different timeline."
It was now his turn to laugh, using the back of his hand to cover his cracked lips which became all the more obvious when they pulled up to let out his voice. "A shame indeed. I wonder, are you visiting town, then?"
Despite Hinata's look of everything average in the world, he seemed to sparkle in the matte area they resided in.
"Not at all, I've lived here all my life."
Now, how was that possible? Komaeda finally felt some twinge of a distinct feeling hurl in his head- pure confusion. He was completely and utterly baffled by the fact someone who had lived here his entire life had not succumbed or even was not born to inherit the grey lifestyle that he surrendered to within the mark of his second year living here. In pure bewilderment, the sickly smoker turned his head to him.
"Impossible, you're too..."
It was hard for him to find the word he meant, and so he blinked a couple more times before looking back at the view with a sigh. Hinata seemed to take kindly to his distraught and took a sip of his glass that Komaeda forgot to register that he even had in the first place as he took the liberty to shuffle closer.
A resounding silence ensued, however unlike every common one that Komaeda lived in perpetually, this one felt temporary and was proven so very quickly.
"Ah but, I suppose you were sort of right before-"
"So you are my stalker? Wonderful-"
"What? No!"
At that point, Komaeda just couldn't help but laugh again at how expressive Hinata was, something he grew to lack during the years.
"I mean the whole like- excuse to come up to you. You always were an interest from afar for me." His voice lowered from it's prior shrill, now something of a hushed and tender tone.
"I can hardly see what's so interesting." He took in another inhale of smoke, letting the warmth artificially heat the cavity in his chest.
For Hinata, he took another swig at what he could only smell was cherry vodka, an interesting choice. "Well it's not everyday you see a man with wild, white fluffy hair and grey eyes."
Oh, wow! It truly seemed that Hinata was on a roll with how many times he could make him laugh today!
Once more, Komaeda finally looked over at him and his eyes seemed to possess a nostalgic sense of wonder in them as he gazed up at him. "Oh, apologies, perhaps it'd be better if I dye brown streaks into my roots and wear bright red?"
"Ahh, see that would be a great comeback had it not been for the fact it proves my point!"
"That being?"
"Not entirely sure yet. Let the alcohol kick in, and then I'll tell you." With a smirk, he winked at Komaeda, causing both to blush and giggle like children in a field. They stayed in their small bubble in a fit of snickering to each other for a while, stopping after a while to glance up at each other.
"I'm starting to regret not coming up to you sooner, Komaeda." As was Komaeda to be fair, had he have known someone hiding in plain sight would be the one to create that similar buzz in his chest that any kind of drug would give him, he would have come running around the pub sooner.
"Next time, don't hesitate then, I’d much rather be in the company of someone like you now that we’ve met. Truly, it’s been a while since I’ve laughed so much.”
“I could tell, not many people really laugh that much at my jokes. I’m uh- not necessarily the funny joker guy in the family. More of the outcast because I’m simply “not as great” as my twin brother is.” Komaeda watched Hinata’s face changed slightly, still holding it’s warmth however he seemed to grow resentful as he recalled his home life. “He’s just the same as everyone else here! Sure, he’s all successful and moved to the bigger cities, but I’m surely better in some aspects? O- fuck, I don’t know. Sorry, I do realise I’m blowing off all my steam in one go on you.”
The former shook his head, a lithe hand slipping onto his shoulder in support, “No matter, it’s truly fine. I can only imagine how that weighs on you. I never truly had a family, so I can’t necessarily say I understand in any level other than sympathy. But truly, I can see a greater greatness boiling within you, it’s beautiful.”
Within all those sentences, they both maintained eye contact with each other.
Both of them seemed to lack the ability to take easy to compliments, and that was obvious by how when Hinata went a pink that he hadn't seen in a while and just shook his head with a strained smile, Komaeda's only though was the fact that that was exactly how he would have responded, if not a little more self-deprecating.
More silence began as they took the seats from the table behind and sat down, seeing that their legs were aching from standing which only just brought up the question of how long they had been talking now.
"Ah, so if you're no longer a writer, why'd you quit?" The latter's voice vibrated through the air with his question, making the former breathe it in. The enquiry was slightly... well, he made it something he never wanted to truly talk about.
"Hm, well I suppose my downfall came with when I first moved here. It's all so uninspiring, so pedestrian. It stripped me of my artistry." One more inhale of poisonous smoke, just to egg him onto finishing his statement. "I should have expected it, to be fair. Every writer hits their rock bottom, however mine seems to have lived for too long now."
There were a few too many beats of silence that quickly made Komaeda regret saying that, knowing it would be words of pity to accompany him next or perhaps indifference.
"No such thing as a rock bottom for art. You just need to find a different angle for it. Every level of your life, it has meaning. It'd be a waste to say otherwise."
"Ah, I suppose so. You hold a lot of great points here, Hinata. I'm glad to see I wasn't wrong to say what I said about you."
Hinata hummed in response, a small smile on both of their faces as they both made the effort to screech their chairs closer, legs crossed and heads tilted up at the sky.
Putting it into the perspective of seeing it with someone else too, the mystery of the space above them had returned to Komaeda's heart, and that old love he had for it seemed to seep back in like some nostaglic childhood memory. Every glimmer of the moon, generously splaying her rays onto the both of them with clouds that decorated her axis, it grew a seedling within his mind. Gratefulness, beauty, innovation. His eyes closed in thought, depriving him of the tiresome need to wander his sight around and let him delve into his other senses. The taste of sweet smoke, the smell of the put-out candle, the bustling of the few residents in the streets and the feeling of how the breeze would constantly palm at his scalp and cheeks, yet would never make him shiver in the cold.
"Shall we do this again soon?"
"Oh, I thought you'd never ask, Hinata. Yes. I'd love to."