Warning: This chapter contains suicide talk, unsafe sex, self deprecation and a LOT OF SPOILERS.
By the way, DON'T DO WHAT THESE GUYS DO. In real life, be more careful, use safe words, and warm up each other. Also... don't have sex on the first date. Even if you've known each other for years. Or don't do any of those things, I'm not your dad.
Smooth breeze, billowing out and around the sand...any fool would say it was tranquil, peaceful, light...
But unfortunately, Hajime Hinata was no longer a fool. The events of the Killing Game had transpired, and now he was...staying in this fool's paradise. With half of himself dissolved into Izuru Kamakura, he was no longer the same person he thought he was. Instead, he never had a truly private thought.
The others all revived the past... Byakuya, Teruteru, Mahiru, Peko, Ibuki, Hiyoko, Mikan, Chiaki, and...
Hajime sighed, trying to shake away the thought of even his name. Nagito Komaeda was an inescapable topic, especially among Hajime's thoughts. Nagito had spent what felt like years, but was actually only a couple weeks trying to understand him.
He made only slight progress, and all Hajime could surmise from the boys ideology was that it wasn't necessarily unfounded. His luck seemed true, and the optimism that followed it all was, although disturbing, well rewarded.
But that didn't change the fact he killed himself for the sake of "hope." He didn't change the fact that Nagito mocked him relentlessly for being a Reserve Course Student. It didn't change the fact that Hajime was talentless, and therefore worthless to Nagito.
It also didn't change that they still cared for each other.
Hajime was haunted by his connection to Nagito. Whenever people needed Nagito around they approached Hajime to ask where Nagito was. Hajime memorized the medications Nagito took for his lymphoma, Hajime often prepared a glass of water at the table to make sure Nagito had something to drink before breakfast, since everyone always seemed to forget about him.
It's not like they'd talked since the end of the Killing Game, at least not consistently. Maybe a couple passing comments about how to renovate the island, but nothing major. The most they'd hung out was getting drunk with Fuyuhiko in celebration of a new administration center.
But that was it. The tension was unbearable. Everytime Hajime wanted to take him by the shoulders and shake him, screaming why he'd kill himself and leave them all behind, screaming why he spent so much time with Hajime, why he called him the Ultimate Serenity, why he looked at him so much, why Hajime felt so disturbed everytime Nagito looked at him and didn't smile, why Hajime needed to ask these questions?
Every day was either the bliss on never seeing Nagito, or the hell of wanting to see Nagito and having his wish delivered, with Nagito's cold stares and strange movements.
It had gotten even worse since Hajime was the one fixing his prosthetic. Kazuichi was always busy with a larger project, so he'd taught Hajime how to adjust Nagito's robotic hand. That part was the worst. Although it was one of the few times they interacted calmly, Hajime felt like it was torture. Holding his hand, Nagito trusting Hajime to do such a thing... it was like they were on the brink of having what they had, but not quite there yet.
In fact, that's what was happening now.
Hajime held the steel joints against his hand, reaching inside with a small screwdriver to re-oil the hinges. Nagito was sitting across from him, his other hand resting on his own thigh.
Silence.
The only noises were the crashing waves outside the window, the breeze by the curtains, and their own breathing.
