Chapter Text
Thorns of the mountain path cut at Nagito's legs, tug and tear at the flowing fabric of his dress. Such a shame, it was a beautiful white dress before he got his disgusting hands on it. Now because of this misfortune, it has become dirtied by a mess of mud and blood, being torn to shreds with every new step. Any sane person would turn back. It’s dangerous enough on this mountain and the thunderstorm overhead makes it all worse. But Nagito Komaeda would not turn back. They couldn’t. They have heard the tales of the monsters that live on these cliffs, but he would rather risk the fairytale than go back home.
Thunder lets out its horrid cry, shaking the sky, shaking Nagito’s resolve. The heavens are at war, the angels screaming at him that this is retribution, that he deserves every cold raindrop, every scrape from the briar.
Their voices are so loud , they make Nagito’s knees weak. Just as his mind turns to the thought of giving in, of collapsing and letting the storm take him, they see it. A symbol of hope. In the distance, a warm glow of a fire. It was just a small flame to Nagito, shining through the windows of what must be a castle. Nagito could make it there and beg for their mercy to let a wretched boy like him shelter for the night. He would do anything, sleep on the floor, clean the entire home spotless, anything. They had to get out of the rain, lest he begin to go insane. The warmth of his tears is a stark contrast to the cold burrowed under his skin.
The steps that take him to the door are a blur to him, stepping blindly, carelessly, only able to look ahead to that warm light. Finally, their legs give out. He's shaking, holding himself with no hope for warmth. But they laugh, because they at least made it to the door. He knocks frantically, his hand too numb to feel the pain of the hardwood against his knuckles.
He knocks again when there is no response. “Please…” he babbles out, leaning against the door. A worry begins to consume them: The light was never there. It was an illusion of their mind to keep him moving forward. No one would come and he would be cold and alone with no hope to be found. “Please…!” he sobs, knocking harder. He deserves this. He deserves this fate. Their hand falls when he no longer has the energy, finding himself curling up against the door that offers no comfort.
He truly thought that would be the end of him. And then, a miracle. The door opens abruptly, causing the boy to fall and land at someone’s feet. He is so shocked at the warmth that the inside of the castle holds in comparison to the storm, he forgot all about his promise to beg. He lays there on the ground, unable to move, overtaken by the soft swirls of comfort beginning to brush along his skin. Perhaps he is lucky after all, he muses, before his body needs the rest so badly, it forces them to fall unconscious.
When he comes to, he's fully inside, resting close to a fireplace with a heavy blanket draped over them. He is still wet underneath the comforter, but his hair was nearly dry due to the fire. And they were warm. So lovely and warm, he’s tempted to slip back into sleep. But his curiosity gets the better of him and he lifts his head to look around.
The storm is still going on outside, but the thunder was a muffled idea of what it once was. They were in a foyer, two large staircases curling up on either side of them, two doors just before them but he couldn’t see where they led. Directly across the room was the door he had come in, however long ago. They turn to the fireplace. The logs indicate it is a relatively new fire, the flames just barely eating the wood away. It also shows signs of someone tending to it, most likely his savior. He doesn't see any signs of them now, it feels like he is alone. Hard to not feel alone in this big place. It is like he is the only breathing being for miles. Shifting up to explore and learn more, he feels something different on his legs. Moving the blanket off, he sees the bandages wrapped around his cuts. They aren’t particularly professional, but as Nagito ran his fingers over the gauze he could tell they were done with a caring hand, they truly didn’t want Nagito to be in pain when he woke up. Nagito hugged himself, partly because of the chill beginning to cover him without the cover of the blanket, and secondly because they didn’t know how they would repay such kindness. He would have to work so much harder to make them believe it was worth the effort. Before all that though, he has to know who he was thanking, then he could determine exactly what would please them the most.
Footsteps signify that he would be getting his answer very soon, he turns his head away from the light of the fire to see a man coming in from the left doorway. Nagito eyes move up his build, taking in his simple outfit of black pants and a white button up shirt, the first few buttons at the top are undone, exposing his collarbones. The same goes for his sleeves, undone and rolled up to wrap around his strong biceps. Nagito thinks how easily this man could lift up his own small and fragile frame, his Adam's apple bobbing in a nervous gulp. And then Nagito meets his gaze, pale green eyes meeting a dark green. They were deep like a forest shrouded in mystery, curious and strong. As the other steps closer- how long has Nagito been staring now? It couldn’t be more than a few seconds, but he drinks in this man’s image for what feels like an eternity- Nagito notes his savior's short, spiky brown hair, how it frames his freckled face, now illuminated in the fire's glow. He becomes aware of how he must look- ghastly and cold from the rain, his thick white hair most likely sticking in every direction as always, their thin frame making them look weak in the silhouette of the fire. He must have been worse when they entered the house and felt ashamed that this handsome man had to clean the mud and blood off his legs to bandage him up correctly. He was so wrapped up in his own thoughts, looking up at the man just before them, they hadn’t realized the stranger spoke.
“Can you hear me? I said you shouldn’t try to get up, you might hurt yourself with all those cuts.” He kneels down, throwing the blanket back over Nagito. Despite how he was sitting up now, the kind stranger drapes it over his shoulders too. “You’re going to get sick if you stay cold... Has the fire helped warm you up? You were so pale and limp when I carried you, I was worried you were going to die on me.”
Nagito can feel his heart skip a beat at the thought of being carried in those strong arms and curses himself for not being conscious to enjoy it. “I- Thank you, for showing so much mercy on me. I doubt I deserve this level of care and kindness.”
“What do you mean? You would have died I hadn’t let you in,” The stranger seems confused by the way Nagito talks. If only he knew the reason Nagito was on that mountain in the first place, he wouldn’t have been so ready to allow the white haired boy in.
“I... Yes, you- you’re right. I don’t know how I will repay you, but I will, I promise! I will do anything you ask in order to even my debt- anything, truly, just say the word and I will prove-”
“Woah, alright, slow down.. You must have been walking for quite some time for you to be so shaken up. Please don’t worry, you’re welcome here for the time being. We can take care of you.” Nagito is cut off by a caring voice and a reassuring hand on his arm.
Nagito can’t help but ask, “We?” It truly feels like this castle is empty besides the two of them. As though they are simply in a warm chamber of a much larger cavern, surrounding them in its hollow cold.
“Hajime.” A level voice comes from the stairs, not allowing the kind stranger to offer an answer. The shadowed figure is just out of reach of the fire's light, Nagito could only make out a pale hand on the railing, so different from the handsome stranger’s warm, brown skin. The voice had barely been raised, but the name echoes through the large, empty foyer. Nagito tricks himself by believing the shiver that runs up his spine is from the wet cloth sticking to his skin and not from the eerie calm of the stranger's voice.
Nagito looks at where he believes the stranger stands in the middle of the staircase, unsure how long he had been there since they never heard him walk down. Then his gaze turns back to the other man, who he now assumes is Hajime. His expression is a bit hard to read, perhaps aggravated by the interruption? He sighs and stands, pulling away from Nagito.
“Izuru, I was about to wake you up. We have a guest,” He places his hand on his hip. There still is something odd in the way the handsome man carries himself with the shadow’s presence now in the room. “They just woke up so be nice.”
There is a pause. Nagito’s body tenses, because while he couldn’t see into the shadows, they could feel eyes on him. “They have no reason to be here. Put him back where you found him.” The hand belonging to the mysterious Izuru moves away from the banister, as if that was the last word.
Hajime is not allowing it though, starting towards the stairs with tenacity, “He collapsed on me the moment I opened the door! Did you expect me to kick them back out into the rain like that?” Hajime climbs the stairs and disappears from Nagito’s sight, but he can still hear the two of them arguing.
“He is not your responsibility. Nor is he mine. If he was out during the storm then it is his problem to deal with. We never have guests.”
“It’s not like this is a frequent occasion, Izuru! We don’t have guests because no one can find this place- or they probably die trying to reach it. They probably got lucky with the terrain out there-”
“And we are supposed to reward a stranger for their luck?”
“It’s not a reward it is basic human kindness- something you clearly have forgotten! Surely there's a memory of it in that frustrating brain of yours! Remember that feeling? The feeling of not wanting people to die unnecessary deaths? I had the option to help him and I took it because that’s just what you are supposed to do. How is this any different from when I came and you let me stay?”
“Lower your voice.”
There must have been something in Hajime’s rebuttal that Izuru didn’t like. It is slight, but Nagito heard the change from neutral to a harsher tone. Their words are spoken quieter from there, Hajime following the command. Nagito can only hear pieces of the conversation now when Hajime’s emotions get the better of him. He must not be used to being quiet.
“ Lord of the Manor - as if that title means anything to us anymore! That hasn’t won you an argument in 5 years-”
“You are so stubborn! It’s not forever, he-!”
“I- I am not! And don’t talk about them like that, you don’t know the first thing-! Augh! Who cares if they can hear us!?”
Nagito stares into the fire, enjoying the last moments of warmth before it was ultimately taken away from him again. He already is causing so much trouble and he had only just arrived. He knows the right thing to do is to leave while they are distracted, slip back into the storm and pray the bandages hold up longer than he knew they would. But they couldn’t bring themselves to move. They let out a shaky sigh and move closer to the fire, enough where the heat began to burn his cheeks. He focuses on the way it burns in the most pleasant way, ignoring any more slip ups from Hajime. They have enough experience of people talking about him when they think he can’t hear, and he knows how they all ended. The tears they do not deserve to shed still fall, cooling his cheeks as they roll down his face. He hears angry footsteps coming his way. Just a few moments longer, please. A hand is placed on his shoulder. He doesn’t want to leave this illusion of security yet, even if he doesn't belong here. They look up and meet Hajime’s eyes. The man was... Smiling? Nagito didn’t understand.
“I was making tea before I came to check up on you and found you awake, would you like some?”
They blink at him, tears already drying from the heat of the fire, “Don’t I.. have to leave? I’m not welcomed here, I would never want to intrude.”
Hajime kneels down, wiping away what remains of their tears. He wasn’t incredibly gentle, but still the caring gesture made Nagito’s heart seize up, craving more touch. “Don’t worry about that just yet. Izuru just…” He glances up at the empty stairs. “Izuru isn’t used to being around others. But we came to an agreement that we are not just tossing you out into the storm. You can stay as long as you need to regain your strength and get back on your path,” He helps Nagito up onto their feet with a smile.
“I…” Nagito held onto Hajime’s arm for support as they walked to the kitchen, “I truly don’t know how I will repay your kindness, sir…”
“There is no need to repay anything. You’re in need, we have the resources to help. It’s only the two of us here.. It honestly is nice to have a new face around.” Hajime lets Nagito sit at a small table in the corner of the large kitchen. A wood burning stove and oven, an icebox, plenty of counter space for cooking. It looked as though a whole staff could frantically prepare a meal for a dinner party with little problem. But Hajime made Nagito curious. Only the two of them in this big manor…?
A cup is placed in front of him and Nagito turns his attention from their ripped dress to that instead, wrapping his fingers around the delicate cup. The poor dress... So gorgeous and pristine when they first put it on, they really should have paused a moment longer to change before running to the hills. Though it’s not like they had much of a choice at the time.
“Think I could be gifted with your name? Izuru already did half the introduction for me, but I think we should get to know each other properly. My name is Hajime Hinata, yours?” Hajime sits down across from him, those forest green eyes fully focused on the other.
Nagito hesitates. Surely the news wouldn’t reach them here, they said they never get visitors. His name would not give them any glimpse into his past. They could become someone completely new. If only their fate wasn’t constantly dragged behind him like a chain, following him anywhere he went. “Nagito Komaeda. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Sir Hinata. I’m very grateful you let me in.”
Hajime looked at Nagito like he saw something soft and beautiful in him. Nagito didn’t know what lie he was gazing at, but how long until the illusion broke? Nagito couldn’t look into those lovely eyes for too long. They wouldn’t take the risk of getting used to it. “You can just call me Hajime. Is it alright to call you Nagito?” His slight smile spreads to a grin when Nagito nods, “Thank you. The pleasure of meeting is all mine, Nagito.”
They sit in silence, taking sips from their tea. Nagito wonders if everything Hajime tries his hand at is so average- then pushes away such a rude thought about the man who has shown them kindness. Well, Hajime clearly did know his way around this kitchen. And then there was the slip that Izuru was the lord of the house. Nagito feels a blush creep onto his cheeks when he thinks about how he first inspected the other. Were they thinking so highly about… A servant? He places down his cup, his fingers moving to pick dirt from the lacey layer of his dress. The fabric was still damp, holding a chill in its snug fit on his body. Their curiosity pushes them forward, opening their mouth to ask, “Hajime-”
“Oh, you’re right. We need to get you out of that dress and into something dry. I hope you're warming up alright after everything, but it won’t mean anything if you stay in that.” He stands, looking Nagito over with no ulterior motives behind his gaze. “I doubt we have anything as beautiful as that must have been…” he thinks for a moment longer before offering his hand, “Izuru’s clothes will probably fit you better than mine. You can follow me, we have plenty of spare rooms.”
Nagito closes his mouth, swallowing his questions. With about as much elegance as he can manage in this state, he takes Hajime’s hand and follows his lead back to the staircase. His legs ache with each step but there is nothing to be done about that, so he keeps walking. He’s led to a spacious room down the hall. They think for a moment about where Izuru might be, but considering how quiet he was on the stairs, Nagito has no way of guessing. Hajime brings him some clothing and leaves for him to get changed. He really is a gentleman, not letting a single gaze linger for more than is appropriate. Nagito takes off the dress, goosebumps spreading over his skin after finally being free of it. He takes a few shaky breaths, slender hands moving over his skin. They find their own touch soothing after being deprived of the touch of others. He combs his hair back into a short, low ponytail with a ribbon and washes his face with the pitcher of water Hajime left with him, hoping to look somewhat presentable in their stay here. The clothing is too big for him, he has to tighten the belt and the ties on the blouse but they still manage to look slightly baggy on him. He looks at himself in the mirror and can’t say he likes what he sees, but that isn’t a new feeling.
They rejoin Hajime and determine that in the time they were asleep, nearly the whole day had passed them by. Hajime is beginning to make dinner and Nagito offers his help.
“I want to do what I can in my stay here, to prove to you how grateful I am. But I will admit I um... I do not have the best luck in the kitchen. I-I seem to burn anything I touch so, usually someone makes the food for me.” They adequately warn.
Hajime seems to find that funny, “How about you do something simple then. Think you can cut some vegetables for me?”
In their time together in the kitchen they learn things about each other. Nagito learns that they almost fully sustain themselves from this property. A garden and a chicken coop are currently braving the spring storm. There are incredibly rare occasions when Hajime makes the trek down to the second closest village for supplies they simply can’t make here. Nagito realizes by Hajime’s description that it is their home that he visits and holds his tongue, praying to whoever would listen for Hajime to know nothing of their family’s name. They ask instead why Hajime walks the day long hike rather than the closest town to the east.
Hajime is quiet for a moment after the question before explaining that it is his hometown, and that he hasn’t been back since he left as a child. He changes the topic of discussion before Nagito can inquire for more answers.
Nagito learns there are few things they can’t make here, due to Izuru Kamukura. Hajime won’t talk a lot about the other resident, but any information they do get is impressive. Hajime learns that Nagito has barely worked a day in his life. He doesn’t learn much other than that because Nagito makes a point to change the subject if Hajime asks about one, where he was coming from and two, where he was going.
They both learn that the other is somewhat easy to talk to. They were strangers, but they felt comfortable in conversation. Nagito is grateful he was useful to the person who saved him, but he did try to keep any imprudent thoughts about Hajime to a minimum.
He sets the table like he had learned when he was a child, meticulous in the spacing of the silverware and dishes. The dining room is large with a long, dark wood table. Through an archway it led to a common room that seems to be part greenhouse with the many decorative vines lined along the lounge chairs. One of the walls serves as a bookshelf, the opposite a wall of windows. Nagito watched for a moment, the way the rain spilled down the side of the glass made a cold seep into their bones, freezing his feet in place and consuming him on the way up. They belong out there, didn’t they? Out in the cold and the dirt. He was meant to die out there, they were sure of it. And yet…
“Nagito? You can come sit, I’ll go get Izuru. Maybe if you’re lucky he’ll choose to share some of his precious wine with us,” there is a chuckle in Hajime’s voice as he passes him, his palm resting on his shoulder for only a moment before disappearing. Hajime is oblivious to Nagito's thoughts, still, there is warmth in that touch. As though it was made special to melt the ice that wanted to grip onto Nagito and not let go. Is he lucky? Maybe so.
Nagito sits at the spot he assumed was for him, a spot below the head of the table. The chair looked unused compared to its twin on the other side of the table. Izuru at the head and Hajime to his left. Hajime had switched the silverware that Nagito set out. So Nagito learns something, the mysterious and impressive man is left handed. An odd fact to know but Nagito’s invested curiosity would latch onto what he could get.
After some time they hear only one pair of footsteps come down the stairs, matched with a grumble of Hajime’s voice. He pauses before the dining hall and takes a sigh before entering with a smile, “Sorry to keep you waiting, let’s eat, you must be hungry.” He sits down across from Nagito, pouring himself a cup of water.
“He’s not coming, I take it?” Nagito asks, a solemn expression resting on their face. “I’m so sorry for causing so much trouble… If he is the head of this household I should respect his wishes and leave.” His stomach protests in hunger. His body still wants to survive, social politeness be damned. Wretched thing.
“No, no, this is not your fault. Please eat, don’t worry about him.” Hajime shakes his head. It is a lie, but a charitable one. Nagito gives a quick thought of thanks to whatever higher power rests above their heads and begins eating. Hajime moves food around his plate, continuously glancing at the empty seat. He stabs a carrot slice a bit too harshly, “Reclusive… unsociable bastard…” he mumbles under his breath.
“It’s rude to talk ill of someone who is not here to defend himself, Sir Hinata,” Nagito says without looking up from his plate. It’s almost meant to be teasing.
“It’s his fault for not being here in the first place.” Hajime huffs, finally beginning to eat, though his mood stays persistent. “He hasn’t had guests in who knows how long, and the first time someone stumbles onto our doorstep he won’t even bother in a proper introduction. He was needlessly rude to you.”
Nagito smiles at him, noticing the way his brow was furrowed. Nagito believes this was him caring. “I think you are overestimating how much rudeness bothers me. I’m actually quite used to people not enjoying my presence!” They meant it as a way to bring Hajime down from worrying but it doesn’t fully work the way Nagito thought it would.
Instead of moving on, Hajime seems personally upset with that fact, “Huh? Why- Even if you’re used to it, that doesn’t make it right! Plus you seem so kind, how could anyone be rude to you without guilt in their heart? I know I enjoy having you here, if that means anything. No matter what Izuru or anyone else has told you… someone in this world is glad that you’re here.”
Nagito fails to swallow down his surprise, left blinking at the other. “I… I think I might- I s-suddenly feel unwell. I might return to my room for the night.” They stand, leaving Hajime in his confusion of what he might have said wrong, “Thank you for dinner, I’m sorry to waste so much of it, g-good night, Hajime.” He pushes in his chair and leaves the dining room before Hajime even thinks to stand up to try and stop him. They move up the stairs with haste despite their cover story that they were sick. He curses himself for opening his mouth, for accepting such kindness. Hasn’t he learned already? Hajime’s only compensation for being perhaps the most beautiful soul Nagito has met would be misfortune. Death and despair follow Nagito wherever they go. That was proven to him on this most unfortunate day.
Devil’s child.
Curse incarnate!
He’s just a walking omen- nothing good will ever come from having him here! We’ve suffered enough by letting him live. I say this is the final straw!
Their voices… Their voices were so loud . They were far behind him and yet they torment him still! He knows he deserves every word, every insult. It was his fault- all his fault. And instead of dying like he was meant to, he has only carried his curse to this castle. Who knows how long Hajime has after making the mistake of touching him. They curl up on themselves, sobbing into their knees, their back pressed against the door. Leaving now may save the kind and beautiful Hinata from that fate.
In the morning, he decides. He would sleep now because the caring and stubborn Hinata would not want him leaving in the middle of the night. They would leave in the morning.
He stands on weak, shaking legs and crawls into bed without thinking about undressing.
Sleeping proves difficult. Still hungry after only eating a portion of his meal, sore from his trek, and his mind plagues him with memories and depreciative thoughts. When he manages to fall asleep it is only a matter of time until he wakes again in an overbearing heat. He didn’t know what time it was when he awakes with no hope to fall back asleep. Every turn under the sheets only woke him up further. With a sigh, they get out of bed. They switch out of their damp clothes into the night robe hanging in the closet and decide to venture out of the room. Walking around the castle seemed like a much better distraction than being alone in his room. Hajime and Izuru would have surely retired to their rooms by now so Nagito is not worried about running into Hajime and trying to explain his behavior at dinner.
He wanders the castle with bare feet, the robe swaying around their legs with every quiet step. His mind follows suit with the aimless roaming, searching for paths of thoughts far away from the cruel memories that he left in his room.
They wonder again about the mysterious shadow on the stairs, the ever talented Izuru Kamukura.
Fate is a funny thing for them, always pushing and pulling him this way and that. Maybe it is the fatigue, but he swears they feel the string of fate pull him further and further down the hallway. His hand rests on a door, thinking nothing of it. They simply stopped, pausing when their footing stumbled. He yawns, the slightest pressure makes the door begin to open, as if it were designed to give way at any touch.
And then everything happens so fast. The door flies open and there is suddenly a tight grip on his wrist. There is a flash of pitch black hair, a glow of red eyes advancing at him at a speed he could barely comprehend, and their tired legs couldn’t keep up. His feet get caught on his own ankles and they fall, but the hold on his wrist stays, pulling on his arm when they collapse to the ground.
Apologies are spilling out of Nagito the moment he’s caught in the hold. He wouldn’t dare look up, squeezing his eyes shut. He didn’t need to see him to know who he had disturbed. “Sir Kamukura! I’m so sorry, so so so dreadfully sorry! I didn’t mean to wake you, I was simply walking to c-clear my head- Ah, not that you care about that, I’m just trying to explain myself! I meant no harm! God how terrible this must look. A stranger coming into your home and attempting to sneak into your room at such a late hour! I’m so sorry, Sir. I don’t deserve your forgiveness but I will still beg for it, I will! Please-”
“That’s enough,” That same serene voice makes Nagito choke on his words to not let out another sound. The hold on their wrist is firm but not tightening, not angry. Nagito can feel how their hand trembles in that composed grip. He risks opening his eyes, glancing up and meeting that red gaze.
Their eyes only met for a moment, but that was enough. Nagito’s head quickly turns back to his lap, his free hand making busy work to pull the nightgown together, as if he became exposed during the fall. Those eyes… Nagito could only look for a second. Those red irises send a chill up his spine. They inspect him, cold and calculated. Did he look at the whole world like that? Or was Nagito different? A particularly interesting pest to observe before squishing under the heel of his boot? No, not interesting, not interesting at all. The look Kamukura gave him was distinctly disinterested. It filled his expression so much that Nagito suspected it to be a mask. Not that they could even begin to understand this man. His presence is blinding, despite being shrouded in shadows. Nagito thought Hajime was a beautiful soul because of his actions, because of his kindness, but Izuru was beautiful because he radiated that beauty. Nagito feels a smile come to life on his lips. How glorious it was. Hajime, filled with warmth and compassion, offering help to a stranger; and Izuru, cold to the world and brilliant. For the first time since arriving, he is grateful for surviving if it meant he is able to be a witness to two people who held such blinding hope.
A door directly across the hall opens, a barely dressed Hajime hurriedly stumbling out of his room, “Izuru? What happened I thought I heard a-” He takes in the sight of Nagito on the ground, his eyes leading him up the arm still held in Izuru’s fingers. Izuru’s long hair falls into his face even when he looks up from Nagito to his companion. Hajime gawks at the odd scene for a moment longer before questions spew out of him- Nagito learns something, Hajime is even more irritable when abruptly woken up. “What is going on here? Izuru I swear, can I seriously not leave you alone for 10 minutes? Nagito, what are you doing out of bed, I thought you said you weren’t feeling well. What happened?”
Nagito’s wrist is thrown down so the weak boy is turned to face Hajime, their back to Izuru. He gives a shy, guilty smile, but Izuru speaks up before they’re able to apologize.
“Your pet got curious. You may want to keep them on a leash, before they get themselves into more trouble than they already are.” Izuru straightens up, brushing his hair out of his face. If only Nagito’s eyes weren’t fixed on the ground below him.
“Izuru -” Hajime tries to scold but he knows the other wouldn't listen, besides, Izuru is already closing the door.
But for a moment, he stops, “Oh, and pet?” Nagito carefully turns to look back at him, another shudder running through his body when he meets that relentless gaze, “Fate may have brought you here, but this outcome… Is it a blessing or a misfortune? I advise you to decide soon. Keep in mind that the heavens were not smiling upon you this day.” And with that, he shut the door.
Nagito is left with his breath caught in his throat. How… how could Izuru know so much, after just one look at him? Nagito feels seen down to his core- did Izuru see the curse within them? Did he feel it? They are left shaking, holding onto themselves, their mind and their heart overflowing and out of control. Something so brief made such an impact on him. He might have stayed there for quite some time if it wasn’t for Hajime.
“...Let’s get you back to bed,” Hajime’s strong hands gently hold Nagito's slim shoulders, encouraging him to stand. An arm wraps around his waist and it's only when he is on his feet again when he’s able to look away from Izuru’s door. They look at Hajime, and there must be something new in their eyes. Hajime has been so dutiful in not allowing his eyes to linger on Nagito for too long, but here he falters. He stares for a moment too long before catching himself. He looks ahead, walking with the other back to the guest room.
They find their voices at the same time.
“I’m sorry he was so rude to you.”
“Sir Kamukura is amazing, isn’t he?”
Hajime’s expression becomes startled, and he checks over Nagito’s face as if Izuru had placed a spell over him. “I… He is. But I don’t see how you can think that after the encounters you’ve had with him. I haven’t heard him talk like that in a long time, about... Fate and misfortune and similar things.” Hajime shakes his head, fatigue resting in his eyes now that the excitement has worn off, “Pay him no mind, alright? He must have truly forgotten how to act around others.”
Nagito leans against the security Hajime’s frame promises, a soft smile gracing their face, “I don’t think I’ve met a more incredible man.”
Hajime glances at Nagito but makes a point to stare ahead as he tries to hide how that comment stings his own pride, “You hardly know him.”
“But you know him, and you agree, don’t you?” Nagito’s voice is soft, almost dreamy. He’s so busy staring at Hajime’s freckles that it is a surprise when they stop in front of the guest room.
Hajime detaches himself as Nagito’s support. His touch lingers with his fingers cascading down theirs, hesitant to let go, “Go back to sleep, Nagito. I’ll see you in the morning.” He turns from him and walks back to his own room. His shoulders were so tense, despite his exhaustion and woe. Maybe he could feel Nagito's eyes on him until he’s out of sight.
Nagito can’t fall asleep but he obediently stays curled up under his blankets, thinking about the two extraordinary men down the hall. He knows now he had to protect them, the world would be so much worse without Izuru’s observant eyes, or Hajime’s strong arms. In the morning he would bid his goodbyes and his thanks and venture back out to the rightfully unforgiving world.