Holding Onto Ghosts - Komahina/Hinakoma

The End?

Souda agreed to help them easily, smiling widely. So they pulled up to graduation in the old beat up truck, creeping to a halt behind the same tree the truck had hidden behind the night they snuck out.

Hajime's sure his heart's in his throat as he creeps through the bushes. He feels like a secret agent or something with the way that Ibuki is army crawling next to him. He doesn't have the heart to tell her that she's probably thrashing a lot more and drawing more attention by doing that, because she seems really intensely focused.

There are little white benches lined up, and his classmates are sitting in neat little rows. Nagito's white hair stands out against the black of the tuxedo, and Hajime can practically sense his discomfort from the position his shoulders are in alone.

His heart can't help but twinge a little bit in pity, though it still hurts. Why didn't you just come with me? Deep down he knows, he thinks, because of their late night chats. He knows how Nagito feels about the house his parents left him - knows it must be a strong attachment. Knows he's probably not worth throwing that away for.

Nagito seems miserable, though.

From the very first day at this camp, he's seemed so lonely. Hajime thought he was starting to break through when he had smiled at him - had kissed him. He missed it with a vengeance, though it had only been a week since he left.

Everyone's dressed in black and white, he realizes, probably to symbolize 'purity' and 'blank slates' and other nonsense of the like.

He ducks behind a bush, feeling slightly ridiculous, because the whole situation was slightly ridiculous. It feels like a prison break. In a way, he muses, it kind of was.

There's a little rustle to his left, and he sees dark purple hair disappear into the shrubbery. He allows himself a little smile before he focuses again - at least Ibuki had been successful.

He waits until the counselor sitting in the front row is done surveying everyone with a rather unprecedented level of scrutiny, and then he practically sprints over to where Nagito's sitting - back row. Perfect.

He taps him a few times on the shoulder, and Nagito turns around to look at him with complete and utter surprise.

His mouth falls open, and he looks around frantically before ducking under the bench to talk to Hajime. Hajime feels really silly, on his elbows in the grass, their heads under a bench, but he supposes it'll have to do.

"What are you doing here?" Nagito asks, eyes narrowing as he stares at Hajime with the utmost confusion.

"Rescuing you, I would hope," Hajime laughs, warily shifting and glancing up to make sure nobody is too suspicious yet.

Nagito's expression clouds, and he can feel his stomach drop.

There's regret in his gaze, pain, misery even. He knows. The house is all he has left of his parents now, and to lose it would be to lose them for good. Hajime feels his own heart ache in sympathy, but he can't dwell on that now. He's here for a reason, after all.

"Let it go. Let them go," he pleads, desperate and breathless as they crouch in the grass together. Nagito is staring back at him with a blank look in his eyes. It's searching, torn, desperate. "Live your life - live your life for you."

Hajime's sure his voice is breaking, but can't find it in him to care. He clears his throat and tries again, ignoring the sting in his eyes.

He knows how Nagito feels. Knows he's clinging desperately to the ghosts of the only people who ever cared about him - if they even did.