Holding Onto Ghosts - Komahina/Hinakoma

Wow Bro That's Kinda Gay

 At the bonfire that night, they all get a cup of hot cider for a job well done. Hinata's glad he was at least allowed to shower before coming out here, to get the stench of grease and metal off of him. It's kind of disgusting, he thinks absently, but he certainly doesn't feel as strongly about it as Nagito does.

He remembers the whitette's look of genuine disgust when he sees his face in the mirror, smudged with grease. Remembers the way he scrubbed his pale hands until they turned raw and red.

"Maybe you should be a girl, instead, learning to clean house," he had snorted, smirking at Nagito teasingly.

Nagito had actually looked thoughtful at this, and explained his love for cleaning to Hinata. Which was kind of contradictory, considering his constant verbal affirmations of how disgusting he was.

Speaking of Nagito, he was sitting beside him on the little straw bale, cup of cider clenched between his hands as if he was using it to warm himself up rather than drinking it.

He's always wearing his jacket, no matter where he goes, so Hajime supposes absently that he must be freezing now that the temperature has actually dropped.

"You don't like cider?" Hinata asks curiously, noticing that there's been hardly a sip taken out of the glass.

Nagito looks surprised, like he genuinely didn't think Hinata would take the time of day to notice something like that about himself. The gentle smile is back, again, as he stares over at Hinata through pale white lashes. "No, I much prefer salty things to sweet ones."

"What's that supposed to mean," Hinata almost laughs, catching it halfway up his throat.

"What do you think it means?" Nagito's eyes are narrowed, calculating, as he leans closer to the fire. The warm glow makes his hair a soft golden color, rather than the pale white it usually is. The bastard. Like he doesn't know what he's doing. His eyes flicker down for a second, before meeting Hinata's eyes again.

Hinata's really sick of it, he decides, huffing even as his cheeks flush. "That's not- why do you keep doing shit like that?! Are you trying to get us in trouble?"

"I'm simply telling the truth," Nagito's eyes widen, like he's taken aback by the annoyance. Like Hinata hasn't acted annoyed at him since day one. "This place doesn't actually change anyone. It just teaches us how to pretend, and how disgusting we are." He laughs, eyes swirling with something unreadable. "As if I needed a reminder of how filthy someone like me truly is. Not that I think that way about anyone else here, of course. Someone as filthy and worthless as myself should never be allowed to even be in the presence of the shining light of hope in the others."

Hinata's really over it. Something in him snaps, and he grabs Nagito by the jacket to - well, he doesn't really know. Ground him? Shake some sense into him? Something like that. Nagito's eyes widen farther at the expression he's sure he must be making, but he can't help it. Everything about him is just so infuriating, and he's so tired. He just wants to get past this stupid program so he can get back to his life. So he can get back to his family.

So he can get back to those faces, the empty smiles, the hollow words, the strange looks, the dark halls, the popcorn ceiling. The loathing in the pit of his own stomach. The dread of another day of being a disappointment.

"Do you think i don't - fucking know that?! Do you think I don't think about that every single fucking day? You think you're the only one here who's hated. You think you're somehow worse than any of us. You're not. Why the fuck do you think we're here, anyway? Because of 'care' and 'concern' and 'respect for a normal lifestyle'?!" He takes a breath, lowers his voice a bit, though he's pretty sure none of the camp counselors heard them anyway. "We're here because of - because we're hated. So you can just - shut the fuck up about whatever you think is wrong with you because you're not worse than anyone else."