When he wakes up, it almost feels normal despite how tired he is. Almost. That shred of 'normalcy' shatters the second he walks into the breakfast area, because the hush is unusual and unnatural and almost unbearable.
A sense of dread settles in the pit of his stomach as he gets a bowl of cereal and sits down next to Nagito, giving him a questioning look. Nagito just raises a finger to his lips in a shushing motion and nods his head slightly toward where Sato is sitting at the head of the table.
Just as he suspected, after everyone ate their breakfast in an unusual silence - apart from the few who looked genuinely confused - they were called together for another 'group therapy' session.
Sato left the room, but Suzuki looked at them over her glasses with a honeyed smile that was far too sweet for the situation.
"There was some suspicious noise outside my room last night. I'm not stupid. If nobody comes forward, we will not be allowed to move on from our current therapy and will be forced to extend the program further - something i'm sure your parents would not be happy to hear about."
There's a collective silence. Nobody hardly dares to breathe for a moment. Hajime stares directly at the collar of her shirt, not wanting to seem as suspicious as Mikan is currently being by playing with her skirt and shifting anxiously every few seconds.
Suzuki's gaze zeroes in on her.
"Mikan, if you have something to say, now would be a good time to do so."
It's cold, and plain, and threatening. Mikan twists her fists into her skirt harder and tears spring to her eyes, shaking her head rapidly. Hajime can't help the twinge of pity he feels for her - she seemed anxious to sneak out in the first place.
"In fact, I found something very incriminating in your room this morning," she smirks, pulling a tiny pride flag out of her back pocket with a flourish.
Hajime recognizes it immediately, eyes widening - he was fairly sure they had been using them at the bar - the kind of decorative thing you put in fancy drinks. But, really? Mikan had taken it back with her?
Then again, she seemed like the type of person absent-minded and clumsy enough to do something like that without really thinking about it. Especially if she had actually had any of what was in that drink.
"It was under your bed. The cleaners came by this morning while everyone was having breakfast."
Mikan's eyes are almost comically round with fear, tears forming in their corners and threatening to run down. Her lip wobbles. Hajime looks away from her, not wanting to see her break down - not wanting to see Suzuki tear her apart verbally in front of everyone. Or worse. Throw her out.
Most people are avoiding her gaze, he notices, as he tries to find a way to distance himself from the scene happening in front of him. Even Ibuki, sitting next to her, staring with her eyebrows furrowed like she's trying desperately to form her thoughts.
And then Ibuki seems to come out of whatever sort of trance she'd been in before, meeting Suzuki's gaze in a confident and challenging way.
It's not as cocky as she usually is - there's a subdued sadness there somewhere. A resignation.
"It was me. I snuck out last night. That's my flag. I told Mikan not to say anything or i'd say she went with me - but it's not true. I went by myself."
He holds his breath, watching the expressions on both Mikan's and Suzuki's faces morph into surprise and, respectively, panic and rage.
Suzuki's talking now, dead calm, something about hell and punishment and fire.
Hajime blinks stupidly. He hadn't even thought of that - hadn't thought of the fact that they were roommates. He wonders if he would have done the same thing, if he and Nagito had been in the same situation. He really doesn't think so, and it makes the pit of his stomach drop. Because it all feels so wrong.
There isn't really anything that they are. He doubts somehow that there's anything that they ever could be - there are too many things in the way. Too many parts of life pulling them in different directions.
He desperately wants to think of Nagito as someone he would sacrifice his own reputation and chance at normal life for. Cares about him. But at the same time - he has nowhere to go if he's thrown out. His loyalty to his parents pulls his heart in two directions painfully.
It hurts that it's being thrown in his face.
Because last night was so good, in it's own disastrous, insane way. It wasn't anything he could put into words, really, but it felt... right.
Nagito wasn't perfect.
Nagito was perhaps the farthest person from perfect he had ever met. So perfect wasn't the way to describe anything about this - about them.
It probably should have been more obvious to him that whatever they were wouldn't last, from the very start. He wonders if Nagito realized it sooner - realized it easier.
And even though he's sitting right across from the white-haired boy, he misses him already. Because he's not stupid. Because whatever the hell they are - it won't last.
It... hurts.
In a way that it probably shouldn't. The entire past few weeks have been a blur of insanity and hatred and difficulty. That in itself isn't the hard part. It never is, really. It's the fact that he's had a taste of something real for the first time in so long. He doesn't want to forget how Nagito's eyes crinkle when he smiles, or those dimples.
...
Ibuki is expelled, that day, after her family is called in and the situation is explained. She takes it relatively well - in fact, she's the one who smiles at Mikan and points to her cheeks, in an obvious attempt to get her to cheer up, on her way out the door.
Hajime's not sure what he expected, but being expelled is actually a relatively uneventful thing.
She leaves the same day, only because her family informs her she's not welcome home anymore. It's painfully unsurprising - this camp is a last ditch effort by many parents.
He wonders where she goes after that. Perhaps to a shelter or to try to make money for herself on the streets with her music. It's hard not to wonder and hard not to worry, and even Nagito is more subdued than his usual self when they finally retreat to their room that night after studying.
They don't say much.
Nagito squeezes his hand once and gives him a small smile, then goes to lay down on his bunk bed, back turned away from Hinata and a blanket pulled over his hunched form.
He can't help but wonder if he's intentionally pushing him away, pretending to sleep so that they don't need to talk about whatever they are. So they don't need to talk about the fact that they won't last.
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...
