Notebook: Nagito Komaeda x Reader

02

Ugh. School's starting soon, might as well call it torture. 

I glanced at my alarm clock, and noticed it was already 11:23 pm. Wow. I need to keep track of time better. I closed my door and turned off the main light.

I kept the light by my bedside on, just because I could. Once I got my night clothes on, I laid down on my comfy bed.

I lay there till 12, completely awake and unable to sleep, whatsoever.

I sighed and lazily got up. I dragged myself to my desk and looked for a random empty notebook. Once I found a brand new one, I took a mechanical pencil out of my drawer with all my pencils and pens and whatnot.

I sat back down on my bed and opened up the notebook, ready to let my hands do whatever they want, draw whatever they want, write whatever they want, etc. But...my creativity was interrupted by the sight of what was already written in the notebook, which I thought, for sure, was unused.

It looked like it was written in a green coloring pencil. It was awfully messy and hard to read.

My heart skipped a beat. Was someone playing a prank on me? No...it was simply impossible.

My mom never dared to go into my room, because I would get mad at her and not leave her alone 'till she left.

My dad just didn't care.

My siblings do their own little weird things. Besides, I think they're too stupid to pull a prank, like this, on me.

I sighed and tried to keep my breath from hitching. I leaned further into the notebook, staring at the words with wide eyes and furrowed brows, my mouth slightly hung open. It read,

"h I!"

Whoever wrote this, must be horrible at spelling. I cringed at it, and sat back up.

Scratching the back of my head, I realized who wrote this must be wanting to communicate...but, who??

I bit my lip and brought my hand over to my pencil, my hands slightly shaking.

Should I actually reply? What if my mom found the notebook and thought I was crazy? What if she put me in a mental hospital? Doesn't my dad work in one? I think so...come to think of it, I kind of forgot where he works. He changes jobs so much, it's almost impossible to keep up with them.

I shook my head, deciding that I could simply hide it somewhere. No one comes into my room, after all.

I barely have friends over. Not that I have that many.

I'm a nice person, I'm just way too awkward and shy to make friends.

I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath. I finally opened them and took the chance of writing back, "Hello."

I dropped the pencil and held onto the hand that was previously holding it and was now shaking. What had I just done?

I slammed the notebook closed and aggressively threw it onto the floor. I'll deal with it when I wake up.

I scrunched up my face in confusion and frustration as I turned off the light on my bedside and dragged the covers over my face.

Finally asleep, I peacefully dreamt about Komaeda.

••••••••••••••••••••

When I woke up, I suddenly recalled what happened last night. My breathing fastened and I looked down on my floor.

It was right there, taunting me. I sighed and felt myself getting tense.

Anywho, where's my mom? Doesn't she usually wake me up at this time? Wait...what time is it? The clock read 5:16 am. Ohhhhh. That's why she didn't wake me up. No one is usually awake at this time.

Why did I wake up so early? Is it because of the notebook? The stress that it caused me?

I don't exactly remember my dream, but atleast it wasn't a nightmare.

Oh, Komaeda, if only you were here to comfort me. I'm sure he'd know what to do.

I didn't change out of my night clothes. After a couple of minutes deciding on what to do, I suddenly rapidly lunged to the floor, grasping the notebook in my hand, and flipping it open.

The first page.

That's where those mysterious words were.

I started sweating, sitting in the floor and staring at the page. They, whoever they were, wrote back.

"Y ay! You replyed! I'm sO happy~!"

So, they're underlining their words, eh? I wasted no time, searching for the pencil I used last night. Once I found it I began writing a response, but couldn't think of one that made sense...gosh, their spelling is so cringey.

I sighed and tapped the pencil slowly on my lip. What to say, what to say...? Maybe, 'What's your name?' or 'How are you?' Hmmm, I just say,

"I'm glad you're happy! But, why?"

"Id rathar not say,"

...

Wait, what?

They just replied...they just replied! What do I do...?

So, nobody is sneaking into my room and writing this... Someone else is finding a way to write to me! How is this even possible?! Am I going crazy...? Psh, I'm already crazy.

Anywho, I just sat there, clutching onto the notebook. I stared with wide eyes, trying not to hyperventilate. I took slow, deep breaths and closed my eyes, tilting my head back. I tried to calm myself down, relax. It didn't help.

...Should I reply? With what, exactly?

After I opened my eyes, I moved my hand holding the pencil over to the notebook and began to respond, with shaky hands.

"Ok, that's fine with me. Do you have a name?"

My eyes widened in horror, or what it amazement, or perhaps surprise? All three, I guess.

I frowned, watching the green words quickly etch themself onto the paper.

Might as well respond, maybe get a conversation going! Wait, what the heck am I thinking? Someone, or something, is somehow magically writing in my notebook without showing themselves, or itself, for all I know.

"I will scare u, if I tell u. So no. Even so, who really wants to kno a piece of trash's name?"