Work Text:
Passing out means it’s all the more difficult for Komaeda to keep track of the days.
It had been three, based on what Koizumi off-handedly mentioned, and he had to assume he was still on day three when Hinata visited, but…
After an egregiously difficult attempt at eating a bite of toast, all Komaeda can remember is black. An aching sense in his stomach, mouth burning from how dry it was, limbs buzzing with pain after being held in their restraints so long, and black. And since he has no way of knowing how long he’s been unconscious, the mental day-counter he had so desperately clung to slips from his palms like sand.
This really is torturous, huh? He can only imagine it would be worse if Souda and Nidai had gagged him, too. The look in Hinata’s eyes earlier (hours, minutes, days ago?) almost made it look like he wished they had. Small mercies, Komaeda supposes.
Small mercies that barely counteract the lack of any others paid to him. Like the harsh, yellow lights left on, a truly awful sight to blink awake to. He already feels dizzy and disoriented, and the damn-near blinding sight greeting his eyes doesn’t help in the slightest. It probably just makes it worse, electric lighting seeping behind his eyeballs into a mushy brain and taking shape as a searing stab of too cold, too warm, too much.
A buzzing, hoarse groan escapes from his throat while he tries to jam his eyes shut, desperate for a return to that all-encompassing black. It’s better than whatever this is, right? Something vaguely resembling the night sky he misses so dearly. Except-
“Komaeda?” asks a voice, floating in and out of Komaeda’s ears. “Hey. Can you hear me?”
Something presses against his shoulder, not moving it but firmly affixed and heavy. Shakily, Komaeda’s eyes flutter open to try and better gauge whatever—whoever, realistically—is looming over him. Though he can fathom a fair guess.
“Hi-” His voice snaps in half, cut into a high-pitched crack. “Hinata-kun!” His mouth stretches into an instinctive smile, eyes remaining half-lidded until Hinata’s still-blurry form shifts and blocks more of the abysmal lighting. Komaeda could cry for how grateful he is, his eyes opening wider to peer up at the boy crouched next to him.
Hinata’s face is woven into tight concern, olive eyes narrowed to pair with his furrowed brow. It’s sweet, almost. Komaeda half-wants to knead out the crease between his eyebrows. Maybe he would if not for his current predicament.
“Is there- is there something you need?” Komaeda rasps, voice bitingly dry. It’s alright though, really. He’s felt worse pain than a scratchy throat before—plus, the concept alone of him being useful to someone like Hinata is enough to make his heart convulse beneath hope’s iron grip. Maybe it’s a question about Twilight Syndrome Murder Case, or the new island he’s heard about. After all, why would Hinata come here otherwise? There’s been no indication that Komaeda will get to leave anytime soon, so if Hinata’s here, he must need something.
And if that’s not hopeful, what is?
“I don’t… need anything. Did you, uh, really not eat anything I gave you?”
Disappointment settles over Komaeda like a blanket, equally uncomfortable since in this current position, he thinks a blanket draping over him might only feel worse. Just an additional constraint.
“I- haha, I tried,” Komaeda says, garbled voice and a heavy tongue making his words come out far quieter than he wants. It’s really straining to maintain a smile like this, but he does so anyways, shining eyes not wavering from Hinata for even a moment.
“Okay,” Hinata breathes, voice quiet as well. “That’s… lemme just- here.” Something creeps under Komaeda’s shoulder pressed to the ground, his sides now contained by two dual pressures. Hinata’s warm hands. Hinata’s warm hands around him, slipping to grasp just under his armpits, wondrously strong against his bony torso. Komaeda’s smile strains even more as the hum of pain from bruises newly pressed against rolls across his body, and he can only pray Hinata doesn’t notice.
Almost delicately, Hinata starts to drag Komaeda up, only pausing when Komaeda’s breath audibly starts shaking. His eyes flit closed. It feels like all of the blood is draining out of his head, fountains and rivers of something awfully pink seeping through the floorboards until there’s nothing left but white hair covering an empty skull.
“Komaeda- just, deep breaths, okay?” Hinata sounds far too tepid to be very reassuring.
“I, hah, suppose Hinata-kun’s not… ha-ah, the Ultimate Doctor, hm?” Komaeda says, voice somewhere between a mumble and a wheeze. Light stabs through his closed eyelids in a mash of blooming reds and yellows. Like stars, almost. He misses the stars.
“Be quiet,” Hinata murmurs, sounding far less annoyed than he should be. I must look really pitiful, huh? Komaeda reasons. Why else would Hinata continue to deal with this despite his annoyance, seemingly without coercion or purpose?
Hinata keeps moving him, even though his torso is mostly upright, shifting his limp body until Komaeda’s back rests against something (the wall, presumably) before letting go. Komaeda’s still mostly slumped, knotted hands resting uncomfortably beneath him and tied legs just barely bent. At least the lack of movement allows his newly-upright head to start to recuperate. When his eyes finally flash back open, it takes only around a minute or so for his spinning vision to coalesce into something more decipherable—albeit still too bright. Or at least, he guesses around a minute. His perception of time still feels awfully skewed.
“You haven’t had anything to drink these last few days, right?” Komaeda hears from somewhere to the side of him. He tries to turn his head towards Hinata’s voice, only for a sharp pain to stab through his neck. Probably a result of his mostly-stagnant position for however long it’s been. His breath catches involuntarily, smile faltering for a moment.
“Shit, don’t hurt yourself,” Hinata says while he sits down cross-legged at Komaeda’s side, not giving any chance for a response. Not that Komaeda was going to say anything regardless. His hands hold a plastic water bottle now, rather than Komaeda’s body, and they uncap it with a small snap. “Take small sips. Otherwise you could get sick, I’m pretty sure.” Komaeda can’t do much aside from hum quietly as Hinata presses the bottle to his chapped lips. ‘Be quiet,’ right?
Carefully, Hinata tips the bottle against Komaeda’s mouth once he parts his lips, what feels like a single teardrop of water dripping into Komaeda’s throat. When Hinata pulls the bottle slightly away, Komaeda swallows softly and parts his lips once more.
It’s an incredibly awkward arrangement. In any other circumstance, Komaeda would be kicking himself for so avidly taking advantage of an Ultimate’s kindness, wasting their time with his pathetic needs. But everything hurts right now, and his mind feels barely-alive, so he can tolerate it for the time being—even if something aches in his heart at the unjust niceties.
They rinse and repeat the pattern until the bottle is almost empty, Hinata pulling it slightly further away now.
“Are you, like, hungry? Or- that’s stupid, but can you eat, you think? You’re being really quiet.”
“I thought you wanted me to be quiet,” Komaeda smiles quaintly. His throat feels exponentially better, head already the tiniest bit clearer. Sure, the position is still uncomfortable and he hurts all over, but it’s far better than before, so he can’t complain!
“That’s not what I meant,” Hinata groans. His exasperation is at least a little pleasant, a nice reminder that he’s not forcing himself to be too kind to Komaeda. A slight return to their expected dynamic, with Komaeda right where he belongs. “Are you gonna be able to eat something, or should I leave?”
Komaeda nods slightly, beaming upwards in Hinata’s direction. “I’ll make sure I don’t pass out this time, Hinata-kun! Though I don’t mind if you want to leave, I’m sure it’s terribly bothersome to deal with someone like m-”
“‘Kay,” Hinata says, effectively cutting Komaeda off while he reaches into his pocket, placing the capped water bottle onto the ground. Silent again, Komaeda watches very attentively as Hinata unwraps a granola bar, his fingers wavering just the slightest bit while he tears apart the gruesomely Monokuma-themed packaging. It’s kind of cute, the way he purposefully avoids Komaeda’s sharp gaze. It’s even cuter when he breaks off a small piece, apparently subconsciously, and starts to bring it up towards Komaeda’s lips.
“Does Hinata-kun want to put his fingers in my mouth?” Komaeda hums—to which the hand that was so delicately making its way toward his mouth halts suddenly, the connected face falling into some mix of incredulousness and mortification. Quickly flushing cheeks and wide eyes, staring at Komaeda like they’re lost. Komaeda’s smile twitches upwards a little, halfway pleased at how quickly he’s turned the tables between them.
Still shocked, Hinata stares for a second longer before forcing a cough and averting his eyes. He rather awkwardly drops the crumb, Komaeda smiling coyly all the while.
“I thought Hinata-kun didn’t even want to feed me before,” Komaeda continues, fueled solely by Hinata’s growing appalment. “Did he come back because of the thought of me all tied up and helpless? Did it keep him up for hours and hours? Was he thinking of me the whole time I was passed out-”
“Komaeda,” Hinata says, his voice laced with something like exhaustion, “shut the hell up.”
“But you were so worried last time I was quiet!” grins Komaeda. Or smirks, more accurately.
“I’m here so you don’t die, y’know. That’s it.”
“Yes, but you do know it wouldn’t affect you if I did die, right Hinata-kun? Only Souda or Nidai could possibly be implicated. And even then—who knows if they would be! Who knows whether my death would even be consequential enough for it to count as mu-”
He’s rather rudely cut off by the granola bar being jammed against his mouth, fuzzy eyes flitting towards Hinata while his smile doesn’t falter in the slightest.
“You can talk about all of that bullshit to yourself once I’m gone,” Hinata grumbles. “I need you to eat something, though. The sooner, the better.”
And maybe Komaeda would quip something about how Hinata had said he didn’t ‘need’ anything before, but he’s not exactly able to talk. So instead he carefully bites down on the bar pressed to his mouth, chewing very slowly. Not even to annoy Hinata, but simply because it feels awful. He’s nauseous the instant he swallows. Still, he tries in vain to take a second bite.
He swallows again, quietly, before grinning back up to Hinata. “So, who made you come back here?” He’s stalling, sure, but maybe he can pass it off well enough that Hinata won’t notice.
Hinata hesitates just a little too obviously in response.
“Ah, did Hinata-kun actually choose to come here all on his own?” Komaeda asks rather excitedly, perking up as best he can.
“Quit it and keep eating,” Hinata says, ignoring Komaeda’s question. Which works well enough as an answer anyways. Komaeda’s smile upticks a little bit more.
“Of course Hinata-kun… Though I should warn you, I feel rather terrible. I’d hate to inconvenience you by getting sick.” He watches Hinata’s eyes survey him suspiciously, and, fair as it is, it’s a little offensive. Besides, it’s not like Komaeda’s skin can get much paler, if that’s the indication he’s looking for.
“Then… I’m gonna leave everything here, I guess,” Hinata almost-mumbles, still seeming a little wary. “You can probably figure it out. I think.”
“You know, if you got me a bowl, I could probably lap the water up like a do-”
“No.”
Komaeda beams, pale and moonish, up to Hinata as he starts to stand from Komaeda’s side. The moon. He misses the moon, too. He really does wish for the night sky, evenings spent standing outside with seaside breeze combing through his hair while he picks out all of the constellations he can remember. It’s one of the few truly, purely good things to come from this island. Not that the Ultimates crammed onto it aren’t good, of course—it’s just that for them to create the most hope, it must succeed despair. The sky doesn’t have to follow that logic.
“Hinata-kun,” Komaeda starts, the other boy already halfway across the room, “what time is it?” Maybe it’s presumptuous of him to ask and waste more of Hinata’s time, but maybe that’s not his priority at the moment.
“I dunno. Close to midnight, I think.”
“What phase is the moon in now?” he wonders. “I presume you’re not the Ultimate Astronomer, but is it waxing? Waning?”
“…What?” Hinata stops more fully to look back towards Komaeda.
“It’s just been… well, I don’t know how many days since I’ve seen the moon. So I was curious. Oh, and is the sky clear enough to see any constellations?”
“Why- I don’t know, probably? I don’t pay attention to that stuff.”
“Hah,” Komaeda sighs in exaggerated disappointment, “that’s such a shame. You know, the island has some great views of the stars, Hinata-kun. Perks of being in the middle of nowhere! You should pay more attention to them.”
Hinata looks to him in utter confusion, like he’s trying to unravel some kind of mind game. For once, Komaeda isn’t trying to play one, but he doesn’t seem to be able to decipher that very well.
When Hinata doesn’t respond, Komaeda continues. He feels awfully rambly, but those are just the consequences of keeping someone like him alone for so long. “The moon was waxing last I saw, but I don’t know how many days it’s been since then. It’s incredibly hard to keep track of time someplace like this!” He laughs softly. “That was the night Nidai and Souda got ahold of me, so I didn’t have much of a chance to look at the constellations. But I saw some spectacular ones the first few nights here! You should truly take the chance to look at them, Hinata-kun.”
“Are you trying to mess with me?” Hinata finally says after a momentary hesitation.
“Yes, most absolutely,” Komaeda grins. “I’m getting into your mind by talking about the night sky. Is it working?” Hinata’s face looks reminiscent of a lost puppy, eyes wide and arms dangling loose by his sides.
“Hinata-kun’s so cute like that,” hums Komaeda after a second, just barely loud enough for Hinata to hear. But he does, which seems to snap him out of whatever was going on in his amazingly hopeful brain. His eyes narrow a bit, arms folding across his chest. Komaeda’s ever-persistent grin twitches into something like a cheery smirk.
“Yeah, I’m- leaving,” Hinata practically announces—to who, Komaeda isn’t totally sure. He spins around on his heel, moving as though Komaeda’s lining up to aim a gun at his back.
“Hinata-kun!” Komaeda calls out once more. He draws it out a little bit, almost sing-song, almost lilting, still rasping against his slightly-less-dry throat. Rather satisfyingly, Hinata’s steps falter in response. “Would you mind checking what phase the moon is in for me?” he halfway croons.
“Why?” Hinata groans, turning back again with a hand pressed against his brow. “Actually, I don’t- I’m not gonna do it anyways. So I don’t care.”
“Does Hinata-kun not know the phases of the moon?” Komaeda coos teasingly. “They’re really quite easy! Waning gibbous, or perhaps it might be the last quarter alre-”
“What are you trying to do?!” Hinata practically cries, exasperation and weariness clearly at a peak.
“Nothing, really!” Komaeda replies in earnest, humor falling away momentarily. “I’d just like to think about the sky right now. It’s a far nicer thought than”—he makes as if to gesture with his head, only to wince with a reminder of why he hasn’t been doing that—”all of this. The lights, and walls, and- these.” To Komaeda’s shame, Hinata very clearly notices the miniscule tremor in his grin when his eyes dart down for a second. He grimaces with something Komaeda can’t quite read.
“…I just greatly prefer thinking of the sky. That’s all.”
Hinata stands quietly.
“This is… so stupid,” he groans softly, a hand mussing his already-messy hair. Bedhead, Komaeda figures. Cute again.
And then he steps forward. One, two, three steps, not in the direction of the door, or outside towards the glimmering moon and cascades of stars and galaxies. Towards Komaeda. His face carries a look of some mixture of resignment and exhaustion.
“…Hinata-kun?” Komaeda wonders, and not even he can mask his confusion when Hinata crouches down next to his slightly-bent legs.
“I’m untying you,” Hinata says, as though the movement of his hands wasn’t obvious enough.
A hoarse giggle escapes from Komaeda’s lips that he can’t quite pin down. Shock, maybe, or befuddlement, or just pure awe. “Why would you do that?”
“Because,” he sighs, “…I don’t know. I feel bad, I guess. And clearly being tied up alone for three days doesn’t make you any less crazy.” He unwraps the rope around Komaeda’s legs in a winding motion, letting the rope pool down. Komaeda doesn’t move his legs at all for fear they’ll do something awful like kick Hinata after being tied for so long.
“How wonderfully hopeful!” he instead grins. “That someone as spectacular as yourself would be lowered to feeling pity for a pathetic worm-”
Hinata grabs his shoulders and pushes him—albeit carefully—on his side and to the ground, which works well enough to shut him up. He steps over Komaeda’s stalwart form to work at the chains tightly knotted around his wrists. Komaeda, for once thinking better of it, keeps his mouth clamped tight while Hinata painstakingly works at removing the heavy metal, only succeeding some five minutes later. Probably. It’s not as though Komaeda’s perception of time has proven to be accurate with Hinata’s reveal that he’s still on day three.
When the uncomfortably warm metal finally slips from his wrists, Komaeda is wary to move his arms from behind him. They ache, more so now that something isn’t forcibly holding them back, but just a small shift of them hurts far greater. Still, after a second of laying half-limp across the ground (probably with Hinata staring at him like a frail, dying bird, but Komaeda can’t exactly see behind himself to check), he tentatively starts to move into a more natural position.
He rolls onto his back, flopping his bruised arms out to his sides. Fish-like. A dead fish flopping around the ground. A laugh threatens to escape from his lips, but it comes out as a sharp inhale when his vision swims black upon trying to prop himself on his elbows.
“Christ,” he hears Hinata mutter somewhere before arms grab him for the second time tonight and push his back to lean much more naturally against the wall. Everything goes light-dark colored and fuzzy and cold for a second before Komaeda can recuperate his mind. Still, when the world does eventually start to fall back into place around him, he begins almost hastily to push himself up, arms braced against the wall as he tries to hold his breath steady. Hinata’s hand pushes itself against his chest before Komaeda can say anything. Like a stabilizer of some kind, in the shape of a rather warm palm across Komaeda’s bony sternum. His legs feel like they want to give out.
Sage-colored eyes fix themselves to the ground while Komaeda attempts to will away the dark humming around the corners of his vision. He finally, practically breathlessly, exhales a soft “Thank you,” once he’s up and turns his head to looks towards Hinata. His smile is a little less instinctive now, bordering on elation.
“Yeah,” mumbles Hinata. He pulls his hand back once Komaeda seems mostly stable, though he’s still leaning against the wall for balance. “Just… don’t tell anyone that I let you out.”
“Of course not!” Komaeda replies. “I would never want them to think less of you for aiding someone awful like me!”
Hinata’s eyes narrow slightly as he repeats, “…Yeah.” He looks away finally, and moves to grab the water and granola bar, handing them to Komaeda in a silent offer. Komaeda takes both with a grin, jamming them into his jacket pockets. When Hinata makes to turn away, Komaeda moves a foot out to follow.
Only for the weight of the world to slam into his head when he shifts his weight. The hard wood of the floor follows suit, perhaps more literally as he collapses woozy and face first.
“Shit,” Hinata hisses. In an instant, Komaeda feels warm hands again, helping him up, looping his arm around Hinata’s shoulders as he’s guided slowly back up. His forehead is throbbing far too much to throw some lighthearted comment Hinata’s way, so he focuses on breathing properly instead.
Ever the gentleman, Hinata doesn’t even fling Komaeda away from him once he’s resumed standing on shaky legs. Rather, he starts a slow walk, supporting the vast majority of Komaeda’s weight as he does so. The two carefully make their way to the door, leaving behind buzzing yellow lights and a pile of rope and chains, Komaeda remaining uncharacteristically quiet all the while.
His mind is spinning too much, with nothing coherent aside from “Hinata-kun, Hinata-kun, Hinata-kun”, because he can’t fully wrap his brain around how Hinata-kun is doing this for him, making sure he doesn’t die, doesn’t topple over and fall apart like a broken toy, doesn’t lose the stars. It leaves something aching and rotting in his heart, maggots crawling over the poorly-placed hope. It’s sickening and lovely and maddening and beautiful all at once.
The kiss of cool, seaside air against his white-and-purple skin pulls him out of his mild trance, however. Even with most of his weight leaning against Hinata, Komaeda’s delicate steps falter a little, causing the other boy to stop and turn his head.
“You good?” he asks, and if Komaeda were more of a fool, he would almost think Hinata sounds concerned.
“Mhm,” Komaeda nods softly with eyes affixed to the sky. “I just missed this.” He stares deep into an endless sprawl of white-speckled blue, patterns and stories interwoven into the low-hanging blanket above their heads. The moon shines through it all, a hole cut from the darkness that effervescent light spills endlessly out of.
“It’s a full moon tonight,” breathes Komaeda.
“Yeah,” Hinata replies, equally quiet as he tips his gaze up. “…You weren’t wrong. It’s pretty.”
Komaeda smiles a little. “This isn’t even one of the good places to see the stars on the island. And yet they still manage to be beautiful. Their persistence is hopeful, is it not?”
Surprisingly, Hinata doesn’t push back on the bite-sized hope tirade. He only exhales tiredly with his gaze still trained onto the nighttime. Komaeda takes that as the win that it is and stays quiet, happy to look up to the sky with Hinata however long the other will allow it.
“Where do you normally like to look at the stars?” Hinata says, nearly a whisper. He’s quiet enough that if Komaeda weren’t quite literally leaning onto his shoulder, his words probably would have faded into the soft breeze.
“The beach, usually,” Komaeda murmurs back, only barely louder than Hinata. “I like the sound of the waves. And how the ocean almost makes it so there are two skies.”
After a second longer, Hinata starts moving again—although his footsteps alongside Komaeda’s, soft against wooden steps, don’t do much to break the spell shimmering between the boys. Disappointed as Komaeda is to watch his time with Hinata slip away so quietly, he can’t allow himself to be all too sad. The idea alone that Hinata chose to be here, with him, for even moments longer than purely necessary makes something warm flare in his heart.
They’re near Komaeda’s cottage now. He supposes it’ll be nice to sleep someplace, to scrub at dark bruises beneath warm water. With a smile, his lips part to hum out some quiet whisper of thanks, well-wishes, apologies for wasting Hinata’s time like the scum that he is-
-but they remain softly parted as the two undoubtedly keep walking. Past the cottages, past the gates, past innumerous off-kilter palm trees, slightly arrhythmic footsteps in a lovely pulse of their own. Komaeda is perhaps too incredulous to speak, so the quiet remains. As much as he tries to rationalize it—maybe Hinata-kun is finally ridding everyone of their problem, maybe someplace there’s a knife or a noose or maybe he’ll simply hold me underwater until I stop fighting back—he can’t. Especially not as they reach the soft transition from grass into sand and Hinata’s steps slow.
Neither of them even have to tilt their heads upward for the view. Uninhibited by buildings or trees, it’s as though the entire space in front of them is stars, the ocean glimmering like a tentative mirror. Dual moons shimmer, one on occasion disrupted by the water’s unsteady surface. It’s picturesque. It’s breathtaking.
Komaeda’s face breaks into an uncontrollable, achingly real smile. When his eyes flit to the side and catch Hinata’s, his face is much the same, which makes Komaeda all the happier.
“Do you, ah, think we could… sit down for a while?” whispers Komaeda, wary mainly for the fear that he’s overstepping Hinata’s already abundant niceties. But, by some good grace of the heavens or hope or luck, Hinata nods and starts to guide their still close-together bodies down.
Once he’s seated, Komaeda finally carefully pulls his arm away from Hinata’s shoulder. Not that he doesn’t enjoy the warmth of somebody’s presence against his skin, but it would be utterly presumptuous to continue taking advantage of Hinata’s kindness. So instead he leans back until his hair sprawls across the sand, legs outstretched like he’s reveling in the opportunity to finally take up any meager amount of space in the world. After a second, he hears Hinata do the same, the sound of shifting sand joining the ever-rolling waves.
The view is even more spectacular from this angle. A canopy enveloping the world, enveloping this awful killing game. It’s like a sheet across both of their eyes, all-encompassing and never-ending. Komaeda’s eyes skip from star to star until ever-familiar patterns start to connect.
“Do you see those three stars, Hinata-kun?” Komaeda loosely gestures upwards, pale hand shattering the illusion of nothing existing but the night sky. The moonlight highlights the harsh darkness encircling his wrist, green and purple fading into a blemished mixture in the night. “They’re the three that look close together, and are a little brighter.”
“I think so,” Hinata replies after a moment.
“That’s Orion’s Belt. It’s a very recognizable constellation.” Komaeda’s hand falls back to the ground, fingers burying themselves into sand. “I like to use it to ground myself when I’m looking up at the sky. It’s easier to find the other constellations when you have a point to branch out from.”
“…Is that the kind of thing you thought about in there?” Hinata asks quietly.
“Sometimes. But I thought about lots of things. There wasn’t much else for me to do.”
They’re quiet for a while. The tides roll back and forth, and Komaeda can feel his consciousness swaying languidly in and out alongside them. He wonders what it would be like, falling asleep here. Maybe one of his classmates would wake up and find him in the morning. Maybe they’d run away, or maybe they’d just tie him up again. He isn’t sure.
“You worry me, Komaeda,” comes Hinata’s voice, breaking the lull.
“Hm?”
“It’s like- you were kind of confusing before, sure, but now you’re… scary, almost. Unpredictable. That’s… why they tied you up, y’know. Because nobody knows what to do about you.”
The only sound is that of waves crashing against the shore until Komaeda responds.
“That seems fair, no? It’s a good way of managing the problem.” He thinks he can point out the Lepus constellation above him, ears just a little ways away from Orion’s Belt. A far different rabbit than the stuffed one with a squeaky voice he sees all too often
“But if you just explained things better, or maybe even if you just apologized, they might wanna work with you. If we all work together, we can get out of here, and-”
“An apology won’t undo two deaths, Hinata-kun.” Canis Major is off to the side, which makes him miss his dog. A part of Komaeda wishes his luck didn’t destroy everything he touches.
“But it would help.”
“Hm.” Just above Orion is Taurus. Komaeda only remembers that one because it’s his star sign—as expected of a selfish, pathetic person like himself, since he can’t remember the names of the other ones. Though he also doesn’t care much for astrological signs or fate. The idea that stars speak for the future is pretty on paper, and that’s about it. Inevitable, predetermined fate is far different from hope’s erraticism, the way it spindles out and coats across despair every which way. He has no taste for the concept.
“I just… think it would be worth trying. Talking to them. I could help you, even.”
Delicately, Komaeda turns his head towards Hinata’s profile, catching the quick shift of Hinata’s eyes darting away. He smiles softly. Hinata’s skin is bathed in pale moonlight, dragging out its color, and his olive eyes are almost transparent. The darkness softens them.
“Hinata-kun is so pretty under the stars like this,” Komaeda hums.
It takes a second for his words to settle over Hinata, but when they do, Komaeda can practically see them take on a physical weight. His eyes flash back over, eyebrows furrow, and even his shoulders look more tense on the ground. A moment later, Hinata starts to push himself up to a seated position with a quiet sigh as his spine curls in a dark shadow against the moonlit beach. Komaeda makes to do the same when Hinata’s face turns towards him.
“You’re…” Hinata starts, eyes locked onto Komaeda through the dark, “…You’re so confusing.” It’s not sadness, exactly, that’s laced through his words. More something akin to resignment, a kind of grievous acceptance.
“I suppose so.” Komaeda pulls his knees up despite the way his muscles protest, and he cradles his head atop the bony joints. His eyes are back to looking forward, across the never-ending skyline, rather than at Hinata. “I’ve heard that too many times for it not to be true.”
In the corner of Komaeda’s vision, Hinata’s hands roll back in the sand, his head tipping up to the sky.
“…Why are you still here, Hinata-kun?”
“‘Cause for some reason I can’t make myself not care about you. Even if you’re… a different person than I thought.”
The sound of Komaeda’s blood and heart far outmatches the waves.
“…It would be easier if you just said it was for the stars.”
“Would’ve been a lie.”
“Lying to somebody worthless like me isn’t the worst thing you could do.”
“You wouldn’t listen if I said that wasn’t true, would you? If I said that I don’t think you’re worthless?”
“No.”
“…Thought so.”
Hinata shifts softly in the sand. Quietly. Komaeda has to almost strain to hear it while his eyes remain trained on the border where the sky turns to sea. It looks peaceful and unmarred. Some part of him wants to dive out into the salty waters, bask in serenity and let the cold waves lap against his skin while he swims through stars.
The sand is slightly louder. Probably because Hinata must be getting up, but Komaeda would much prefer to stay here, so he remains frozen.
“Komaeda-” Hinata starts, and his voice sounds much closer than it should be if he’s stood up. It makes Komaeda’s head jolt, turning to face the other boy who is much too close, to where their noses could touch if either so much as twitched closer. His green eyes from here remind Komaeda of never-ending storybook forests, the kind that unicorns prance around. The cool moonlight makes them shimmer.
Before Komaeda can respond—though he can’t be sure he would respond anyways, because what can he say when his breath is so close to Hinata’s that it spindles together—a hand moves to rest on his shoulder. And then lips move to rest against his own.
Hinata kisses like he’s trying to say something, piling words up behind his lips and jamming them against Komaeda until he’s breathless. Another hand moves up from the sand to Komaeda’s other shoulder, as though it wants to pull him closer. Though there’s no need to. When the initial haze scrubs from his mind, Komaeda all-too-happily presses back against Hinata, eyes fluttering shut to match the other’s, to focus only on the soft warmth at every point of contact.
It’s still chaste, however, cut short by some shared collapse to reality as their lips separate, hands falling from shoulders. Their faces, however, don’t break too far apart. The air is bitingly quiet.
“Why… did you…?” Komaeda finally whispers. He can’t fathom a way to lessen whatever just happened right now.
“I, um,” Hinata stumbles, eyes darting back and forth. Apparently his confidence was as momentary as the kiss, what with the redness in his face that peeks out even through iridescent white moonlight. “Guess I thought I could… show you. What I meant. Instead of saying it.”
“…That’s really corny, Hinata-kun.” Though Komaeda smiles a little.
Hinata’s face manages, by some miracle, to flush even deeper. “Shut up, Komaeda.”
“You should make me,” Komaeda lilts softly. Hinata’s eyes glance back up at that. It’s a moment before a flash of understanding dances across their irises and Hinata’s hand is back on Komaeda’s shoulder.
It pushes him this time, rather than pulls, softly pressing his shoulder blade down into the sand while Hinata leans over him, connecting their tilted lips with a more definite fervor. The delicate bite of sand grains in Komaeda’s hair matches nicely with the teeth that Hinata grazes over his lips.
Every small shift of Hinata’s lips sends a sharp firework through Komaeda’s heart. They carry explosions of color and sound beneath his eyelids, connecting into starry constellations all of their own. If the hand that Hinata grabs Komaeda’s sandy waist with burns straight into a bruise, he doesn’t notice for the vivid cacophony of lips and waves and hot breaths making his mind spin away. He reaches to grab into Hinata’s tousled hair.
They kiss until they can’t breathe, and then a little further, gasping breaks between lips only making everything feel more desperate. Hinata, for something Komaeda doesn’t know, but Komaeda proudly just for Hinata.
Hinata only pulls away when Komaeda’s gasps become a little sharper, and God does some part of Komaeda want to capture the way Hinata looks into his eyes right then and put it into a bottle and never ever let it go. Unicorn-eyes pretty and still so observant, blush flushing his tan cheeks. His lips are parted slightly and shine just a little bit with spit.
“Hinata-kun’s even prettier like this,” Komaeda hums like an afterthought. Hinata’s rapidly-darkening cheeks make him smile.
“You’re pretty like this, too,” Hinata whispers, and the fact that Komaeda’s heart doesn’t stop then and there and fling his dead spirit into the pits of hell is a testament purely to his will to stay alive right now, right here.
“…Thank you,” Komaeda finally whispers back, for everything, because Hinata holds everything in this pocket of time. His hand slips from Hinata’s hair to rub against his cheek, like he’s making sure the brown-haired boy above him is real. Hinata’s ‘you’re welcome’ is a delicate kiss before he starts to shift up, hand entwining with Komaeda’s to help him up the same.
Komaeda has half a mind to be grateful for the buzzing wooziness that swims into his mind when he stands, back covered in sand, because it gives him an excuse to lean a little closer into Hinata’s shoulder, his warmth. He probably would have done so anyways, admittedly.
Their path back to the cottages is similar to before, if not for the happiness gripping Komaeda’s heart when they step up to Hinata’s door, together. He mumbles out some half-formed thought about presumptuousness and pitifulness. Hinata just squeezes his hand and lets them both in.
Time jumps around inside, because one second he’s stepping into Hinata’s bathroom, the next the shower is on and he’s staring at his mottled chest in the mirror. Bruises paint his skin like watercolored blemishes. Another second has him under the warm water, and another has him out, pulling on fresh clothes that Hinata must have grabbed for him at some point. The thought makes him smile.
Hinata waits for him when he steps out of the bathroom. “C’mon,” he softly beckons, and the idea alone of sharing a bed with Hinata is enough to make Komaeda’s heart threaten to explode.
When he crawls under the sheets, hair still wet and Hinata’s clothes loose around his frame, Hinata presses a kiss to the jagged purple ring around one of his wrists, like that would make the jabs of pain go away. Maybe it does. Because Komaeda can’t bring himself to notice any of the bruises scattered around his body when he wakes up the next morning, legs entwined with Hinata’s and head buried into his slowly rising chest.