Hajime shuffled in irritation, staring up at the dinghy compartment of the car with a kind of abject horror.
Dust rained down into his eyes.
What a fucking stupid concept of heteronormativity. Ah yes, let's have the boys go out and learn how to fix machinery in order to get in touch with their more 'masculine' sides. He wasn't even really gay, it wasn't like he didn't like girls. He just liked both.
How was fixing a nasty old car going to help him stop wanting to fuck other men? What the hell?
Maybe, he thought absently, it was aversion therapy. Like helping guys fix cars would make him associate the two, and so he'd do his best to avoid both. That was really his best guess.
"Can you hand me a screwdriver," he mumbled to his partner, who was also struggling - he was sorting tools in a toolbox.
He heard a loud crash and frantically shoved himself out from under the car, sitting up and blinking the grime from his eyes. He didn't really have anything to worry about, it turns out, because it was just his partner being an idiot.
Objectively, he knew that he shouldn't be annoyed at Nagito for dropping everything all over the floor. He had seen the pale boy's arms shake when he picked up the box the first time. But it was just that, he was so tired of this stupid program, and Nagito was being a rather functionally useless partner.
He was crouched down on the floor, trying to clean up his mess. He blinked up at Hinata's annoyed expression, and gave an apologetic smile.
Hinata hated the way his heart skipped a beat when he saw those dimples.
"Ah! I'm very sorry, Hinata-kun. It seems my incompetence has caused another disaster." He mumbled, expression turning to one of self loathing. He fished around in the pile of various metal and plastic until he pulled out a screwdriver and handed it to Hinata.
A gash on his arm was bleeding. He must have scraped himself trying to catch the falling box.
"Mhm," was Hinata's only reply.
He crouched down beside the white haired boy, dropping the screwdriver onto the floor in favor of grabbing Nagito's arm gently. Nagito flinched so hard he almost fell over again.
"Let me see that," Hinata muttered, turning his arm over gently to look at the gash. It wasn't as bad as it looked right now, probably, but the red was spreading rather than slowing down.
"Hinata-kun is so kind to look after someone such as -"
Hinata's hand reached out, and he placed it firmly over Nagito's mouth. He was really sick of the constant stream of self deprecation. Nagito's face flushed red and he quickly glanced down at the floor. Hinata tried desperately to ignore the feeling of Nagito's lips against his hand and failed. Shit, why had he thought that was a good idea again?
He shook himself out of his thoughts, jerking his hand away like Nagito's mouth was burning to the touch.
"Shut up. It would be bad if you bled all over everything, then we'd just have to clean that too," he mutters in excuse, standing up and gently pulling Nagito to his feet.
Nagito says nothing, but his eyes widen and he nods.
The white haired boy seems to take that more as an order than a suggestion when they go into the little bathroom in the workshop, Hinata opening the dusty cabinet and rummaging for the first aid kid he knows is supposed to be there.
Ah! There it is. Although it's half empty. Gauze tape will have to do for now, he supposes. Nagito doesn't complain when he washes the gash out with a little soap and water, though it must hurt. He positively beams at Hinata when he finishes wrapping up the cut, and between his wispy white hair and the dim bathroom light and the way he's smiling, he looks half angelic.
"Hinata-kun?" The voice is tentative, like he doesn't know if he's still not allowed to speak.
"What," Hinata mutters, breaking out of the little trance he's in because fuck. It doesn't matter if Nagito's pretty in this light, he's crazy and self loathing and the opposite of what this camp is supposed to be for.
"Thank you," is the tentative response, pale fingers trailing over where Hinata had slapped the bandage down a few moments before.
"Yeah, don't mention it," he chokes out in response, turning around and leaving the bathroom a bit too quickly.
The rest of the day passes rather uneventfully, Hinata half-listening to Nagito's ramblings as he hands him tools and gives him rather questionable advice. He really does sound like a madman half the time he's talking, but there's something lonely about it. Something Hinata can relate to.
YOU ARE READING
Holding Onto Ghosts - Komahina/Hinakoma
Фанфик"There are programs that can help you, Hinata, programs designed so that you can lead a normal and fulfilling life!" His eyebrows wrinkled. They were going to send him to a conversion camp? Well, he mused detachedly, at least he wasn't going to have...
