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“Do you believe in god, hinata-Kun?”
Hajime almost didn’t hear him, the gentle breeze flowing through the air almost drowning out the whisper. The moonlight cast them both in a cool glow, making Nagito look almost white, tangled hair covering one of his eyes, highlighting the other pale green eye as it squints almost imperceptibly. Crow’s feet at his young age only buys into his sickly stature, cracked dry lips tick upwards into a seemingly serene smile. Anyone else would’ve been worried at the pink ends of his hair tickling his collarbone, shirt collar loose from how much he’d pulled and tugged at it.
Hajime takes a moment, cataloguing the sand in his shoes, the sweat that lined down his back that feels cool now, the grainy texture that sticks to his palms and the heat of he dead boy sitting next to him. The waves hit the shore, the leaves that rustle above them, and Hajime unsticks his lips.
“No.”
Bookmarked by sturryio
30 Nov 2025