KOMAHINA FIC: Pure agony

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**Between Chapters 2 and 3**

Mind you, English isn't my first language. However, I'd be really happy if you pointed out any mistakes you see!

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Is vulnerability a lowered wall, or is it an open wound?

Hajime couldn’t recall exactly where this sentence came from, but the fact that he deeply resonated with it was almost driving him to insanity.

'Why, exactly, is this happening to me...?'

He let out an appalled sigh, filled with exhaustion. And yet, he faced Nagito with all the courage and confidence he could muster. He was aware that the man standing before him had ulterior motives and, despite his attempts to hide it, also harbored selfish desires. Otherwise, he wouldn’t try this hard to rile him up. Hajime could see right through him by now— or so he thought. Running into him was clearly not on his to-do list today, and did a poor job at hiding his already tired expression.

For a small moment, Komaeda’s eyes darted in different directions before settling on the wooden floor beneath him. Somehow, a thin layer of sand had managed to get into the restaurant and filled out the gape between each planks. It didn’t take long before the white-haired man used that sharp tongue of his.

“You’re no different from me, Hajime. You and I, we have more in common than you'd think.” Nagito wore his usual sly grin, despite being met with a loud silence.

“Do you seriously think any of this is actually worth the effort? Don’t torment yourself any of longer. Just give in already.”

Hajime was about to finally—finally—say something. Anything — Deny the implications, perhaps— only for his line of thoughts to be interrupted by Nagito’s raspy voice again. He braced himself.

Komaeda approached him carefully, as if he was walking toward a scared, hurt animal—fearful it might run away at the slightest harsh movement. Each step was methodical and calculated. He thoughtfully invaded Hinata’s personal space, without much of a struggle, now close enough to share their breath.

The lucky student then placed a cold hand on Hinata’s shoulder, tightened his grasp around him, and whispered right into his ear:

“There is something I want you to know...” — Hajime’s heart was hammering loudly and with Komaeda's proximity, he didn’t doubt that he could feel all of it; his anxiousness, his slightly damped forehead, the light involuntary movements of his hands and finally this uneasy feeling he couldn't quite name towering over his reason. He suddenly felt like running away, but somehow found his own body unable to move, or rather unwilling to listen.— “Your brainless sentimentality will get you killed.”

Hajime’s lips parted as he was about to object, his voice caught in his throat as Nagito initiated another form of physical intimacy— slowly moving his hand to his neck, right above his pulse.

The brunette felt he was, once again, being played with.

“W-What are you even saying...?” He cursed himself for stuttering in such a crucial moment.

However, he couldn’t deny that playing along with these sick games sent a rush of adrenaline down his spine. Hajime let out a shaky exhale. He would be lying if he said he wasn’t uncomfortable, but he longed for Nagito’s attention nonetheless. As shameful as it was to it... So, he didn’t acknowledge it. This apprehension was suffocating, and yet, without it, he felt like he wouldn’t be able to breathe.

“Wouldn’t that be endearing, Hajime?” Nagito stared at him with intensity, which he returned. And with a new wave of confidence, Hajime decided to indulge in his classmate’s antics. He moved a hand to brush some strands away from Komaeda’s prying eyes.

'His hair is... surprisingly soft. I wonder what will happen if I pull on it—'

The lucky student flinched ever so slightly, not without being noticed by the ultimate facing him. Hajime’s fingers gliding through his silky hair with such delicacy made his entire body ache. But neither of them backed down from this sadistic tango, even though both were losing their composure—or what was left of it, anyway.

After a few seconds of silence, breathing in one another’s scent, Hajime finally managed to speak.

“I first thought you were similar to fire...'' His voice was filled with uncertainty, and despite all his efforts, barely managed to sound convincing. Nagito was nice enough not to mention it. ''But now, I’m sure of it—you’re nothing but smoke.”

“Oh, is that so ? Please, enlighten me.”

Hajime looked away for a moment before staring back at Komaeda's pale face.

“When it gets into the fabric, the scent lingers on every fiber it touches. It stains dark patterns on the walls that no amount of paint will ever quite cover. It works its way into your lungs and leaves the most... intimate damage with every breath.”

A snarky, breathless laugh. “You sure thought about this a lot, huh?”

And this is when Hajime’s bravado utterly broke into pieces. He finally put some distance between himself and the person he was supposedly so afraid of.

“Just... stop getting in my way,” Hajime muttered quickly as he walked away, as far as his wobbly legs would take him, feeling still an amused gaze upon him.

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“Fucking... damn it!” The brunette threw himself face-first onto his mattress, which was too firm for comfort, and somehow also too soft to his liking—he could slowly feel his body, heavier than ever, sinking into it. He silently wished for his bed to swallow him whole so he’d never have to deal with reality again, in vain.

This interaction with Komaeda had happened only a few hours prior, and yet Hajime was still in pure agony—now tormented by what was left unsaid, and what was actually said. Nagito had never expressed any direct ill intent toward him, after all.

“I wonder... was it a threat, or a warning?” He rearranged himself before collapsing once more onto his pillow.

Sometimes, he wonders how Nagito’s neck would feel like under his fingertips.

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