#Remind me to draw myself with a cutesy smile JUST so I can showcase that!

[stardestroyer81]

Oh, rats. 🐀

Inspired by @nutellapatella's Rat Noise and Bunny Noisette doodles, I wanted to try my hand at drawing my Pizza Tower sona as part-rat, which resulted in this cute doodle!💙🍕✨

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: Feelings To Write About

Author: @magioftheseas

For: @spaghetti4u

Pairings/Characters: KomaHina + mentioned KamuKoma

Rating/Warnings: G

Prompt: “Hinata or someone else trying to encourage Komaeda into doing something funny to spend the time (going to the beach, playing some game or anything really!)” + “Sharing a bed”

Author’s notes: It’s a pretty lowkey fic, and I ended up having them talk about the WoH because I have fluffy feelings when it comes to them. Cakeland is obviously based off Candyland which I have a lot of nostalgia for. I hope it’s cutesy enough for you!

The weather on Jabberwock wasn’t the perfect, eternal sunshine it had been in the simulation. There were storms and quite harsh ones at that. Hence why when him and Komaeda got caught up in one, he brought Komaeda with him to the hotel for studier shelter rather than just relying on one of their cottages. It was one of those weeks where the others were out trying to fix other parts of the world or meeting with the other sections of the Future Foundation, so the hotel was as vast as it was vacant. Hinata doesn’t try to think about how this scenario is like a million haunted movies and games—he especially doesn’t want to think about games—and instead, he focuses on drying Komaeda’s hair off with several towels.

Komaeda is docile when being fussed over, but he’s still shaking like a leaf. Hinata wraps him in some blankets for good measure, trying to keep a straight face when Komaeda sneezes.

“If we get enough blankets and pillows, this won’t be too bad a place to sleep for the night,” he says, tearing open a tissue packet pulled from Komaeda’s pocket for the other to blow his nose on. Hinata does flash him a smile, playing idly with the wet but still springy curls on his boyfriend’s head. “Do you need anything else to make yourself comfortable?”

“Mm.” A noncommittal hum and a meek shrug. Komaeda’s been in a low mood all day and the storm hadn’t seemed to help measures. Hinata tries to retain a reassuring smile as he tucks silvery strands behind the other’s ear. “It doesn’t really matter.”

I wouldn’t ask if that were true. Hinata bites his tongue. You know I would’ve just decided what to do without you. You probably wouldn’t even care in this state.

“There might be board games,” he found himself saying. “How about we play something to pass the time? You like Go, right?”

Komaeda shrugs again, as if he didn’t carry around go jars all throughout high school and even had them stored in his cottage at that exact moment. Hinata can only sigh and go along with Komaeda’s unstated hesitance.

“Maybe something new,” he said as we went to the closet where the board games were stored. “Variety is the spice of life.”

Komaeda sneezes behind him and makes no further comments. Fine. That’s fine. Hinata should just focus on deciding—or just grab the first thing that catches his eye and settle with that. Which is what he does. Either the dormant Kamukura Izuru’s kicking him in the mental balls right now or Komaeda’s momentary apathy is contagious.

He could figure out which if he thought about it. He elects not to think as to conserve energy. This is how he lives his life now.

Although the board game he grabbed is—not really to his or to Komaeda’s tastes. He still commits and takes it with him before setting it in front of Komaeda. Komaeda does look at the cover, his mouth twitching.

“Cakeland,” Hinata read aloud. “For ages 4 and up. If I didn’t know any better I’d say this is Usami’s doing.”

“Oh, I’ve seen it before,” Komaeda said, soft and low. “Utsugi-san was fond of it. She always forced me to be Donatsuo. She hated that character most.”

Even without a genius brain, Hinata can tell who that is. The donuts-themed boy with short choppy hair and absurdly large, caramel-colored eyes.

“This was Utsugi-san’s character of choice,” Komaeda recalled, tapping his finger against a happy girl in pink. “Ichigo-hime.”

“So,” Hinata said, trying to keep his tone neutral. “Was this game any good?”

“It’s not very complicated because it’s for kids, ages four and up,” was Komaeda’s dull response.

“We’re not kids but we’re older than four, so we should be fine.”

With all that said, it looked like they were playing Cakeland. Hinata sets up the board—which is even kitschier in design than the box and he picks the character that looked the most normal-ish save for a strange hairstyle—identified by Komaeda as the Baron Maron. Komaeda does look between them and muffle a small snort, and Hinata doesn’t care to ask.

Komaeda picks Donatsuo, although he very lovingly places other pieces aside. Ichigo-hime and a few others who mysteriously had similar color schemes to those troubled kids he babysat all that time ago. As Servant. In Towa. After Enoshima Junko died but they were still all in despair.

That he can even have fond memories at all—

Hinata feels his throat burn with questions, but swallows back and just rolls the dice.

“We’re just both going to get six,” Komaeda said. “What to do?”

Hinata doesn’t say that he could probably get any roll he so wanted, so he just grumbles.

“I’ll go first because it’s in my name. Sound enough logic?”

Komaeda giggled warmly. It strikes a soft chord within him, and his heart may or may not do a flip in appreciation of such a sound.

“Whatever,” Hinata says, drawing a card. “What’s important are these, anyway. Wow, I drew you.” He does flash the card, showcasing Donatsuo with a dorky grin and dual peace signs. “Guess that means I go to your character space. It’s the first one on the map though so it’s not that far ahead.”

“It’s good luck to get that at the beginning of the game but bad luck to get that at the end,” Komaeda said, drawing his own card. He just gets a plain color so he only moves ahead four spaces. “Since your luck is better than mine, I wonder if this is even a fair game…”

“Your luck is still formidable,” Hinata pointed out as he drew. It was green. That was five spaces. “I’d say it breaks to about even.”

“Oh, no,” Komaeda breathed, shaking his head. “No, that’s wrong. Comparing my luck to yours is like comparing a gnat to a swan because both can fly.”

“It’s not…” Hinata sputtered a bit, unsure of what the hell to make of that. “What does that even mean? Komaeda, your—your luck’s on a whole other level. You should know that more than anyone.”

Komaeda just draws. He still hasn’t selected a special card. Hinata ends up drawing the next one, a strange angelic figure named Enjunji, who he just didn’t get good vibes from.

“Kemuri-kun’s favorite,” Komaeda said quietly and Hinata moved further ahead. It was the closest character space in reality, so it still wasn’t impressive.

I have a feeling I know how this is gonna go.

Still, they kept playing.

“You’re still like that, huh,” Hinata mused quietly. “You’re still—really harsh on yourself. That hasn’t changed, but I suppose other things have.”

“Other things?” Komaeda echoed before laughing. “Like what, per say?”

“You’re not as reckless as you used to be,” was the immediate answer. Another draw. Another several steps ahead. Komaeda’s piece was struggling to keep up. “You’re much calmer. You don’t talk about hope and talent all the time.”

“Because,” Komaeda said. “Hope’s Peak—the encapsulation of all of that—was in reality a breeding ground for despair. It was poisoned to the core and I was just too blind to notice.”

We all were, myself especially, Hinata thought, reaching up to touch his temple. He knew Komaeda noticed, but his eyes screwed shut so that he wouldn’t have to see whatever warp Komaeda’s face. I wasn’t just blind, I was so, so fucking stupid.

“You agreed to be with me,” he forced out so that he wouldn’t have to keep thinking about his own failures. “Your old self never would’ve let yourself have any real sense of happiness. At least not something you’d have to maintain, like a relationship.”

Komaeda chuckled. “You mean you would’ve let me reject you?”

“You did reject me,” Hinata reminded him dryly. “Several times. And then you demanded Tsumiki make sure I didn’t have brain damage.”

“Oh, did I?” Komaeda tapped his chin thoughtfully. “Well, I still find your attachment to me nonsensical, especially when I more or less stated I wanted nothing to do with you in the past. But—I suppose you knew that was a lie, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, you’re a liar.” Hinata cracked a smile. “At least when it comes to your feelings. You’re sincere most of the time.”

“The proper word is stupid,” Komaeda said, moving his piece a single space with a nudge from a metallic finger. “I’m stupid.”

“You’re not stupid. Don’t say that. You shouldn’t even think it.”

Hinata’s tone was as serious as it was grim. Komaeda’s self-effacing expression twitched, but he simply ducked his head reservedly.

“It’s in moments like this where you most resemble Kamukura-kun,” he murmured, fringe falling before his eyes and obscuring his gaze. “He’d speak up like this in the past despite being so quiet most of the time.”

Hinata felt a stirring in the back of his head. He held his breath until it went away and all that was left was the pounding in his ears. Even with that, he still knew.

“He cared about you.”

Kamukura doesn’t let him see into those memories often, although he still sometimes imagined it—maybe even dreamed it. Komaeda Nagito, eyes murky with despair and shoulders trembling under the weight of it, smiling up at him.

“He didn’t think to acknowledge it, much less accept it,” he went on, rubbing his digits into his scalp and catching skin flakes and rain droplets under his nails. “I was the same way in the simulation.”

“You both had strong reasoning to be that way, my inherent worthlessness none withstanding.” Komaeda laughed. “I wasn’t exactly in my best frame of mind at either time, although that’s not saying much.”

“Nor was I,” Hinata retorted. “I even denied part of my identity. I was—pathetic. You were right about that.”

Komaeda is quiet, lips twisting. His shoulders shake briefly under a certain kind of weight. Hinata draws his next card, and it’s another character, a studious blue one named Chouchoux.

“You were an ass about it,” he said. “Like, an absolute ass. But, hey, definitely not the worst thing about you at the time. By the way, this one was used for Shingetsu Nagisa, wasn’t it?”

Komaeda nodded, fiddling with his mechanical hand and making a loud series of whirly noises. He drew his card as well. Another plain one, with his piece moving only two spaces ahead.

Hinata draws and it’s a card of a boy in stripes and red, looking fierce and fiery. Torayaki—obviously the favored character of one Daimon Masaru.

“Do you miss them?” he found himself asking. “If so, we can contact Towa City and ask Naegi’s sister how they’re doing. They might even be curious about you.”

“I doubt it,” Komaeda laughed mirthlessly. “And it’s fine. As long as they’re doing well.”

“I don’t think they hated you,” Hinata said. “You took care of them after all.”

“I was a wretched despair.” Komaeda shook his head. “And they were perfectly self-sufficient. I doubt they even think of me anymore—and rightfully so. I only approached them in the first place out of curiosity, not because I saw children who needed protection and guidance.”

“They would’ve killed you if you had,” Hinata can’t help but remind him. “Probably would’ve found that sentiment insulting with all that they’ve been through. They were children and angry ones at that. I don’t blame them, of course…” He trails off. “I don’t think it’d be bad to send a letter now that things have calmed down a little.”

Not to mention—you lit up when talking about them. You’ve been listless lately, and I know. I get it. There’s no particular reason for it, that’s just how depression works sometimes. I still missed your smile, Nagito.

“Just a letter shouldn’t be too bad,” he insisted. “You’ve been practicing your calligraphy with that hand after all.”

The hand in question flexes. No joints pop, it’s just more whirls. Komaeda does smile, but it’s one that is curled up on his face, like a body trying to keep itself warm in the cold.

Hinata draws Ichigo-hime next. At this rate, Komaeda has no chance of winning. But the funny thing about a game like this was that luck of the draw could flip things so easily. There was one last character space, furthest ahead and closest to the end.

“Maybe,” Komaeda says and—as expected, he draws the card.

It’s a young woman dressed in green named Monaka-jou-sama.

Komaeda wins the games just a few turns later.

Outside, it was still storming.

“It’s pretty late, so let’s get ready for bed, Nagito.”

“Okay.”

Hinata goes to find futons while Komaeda puts away the board game. Hinata sets up a couple of makeshift beds and he presses them together. He does pause afterward, wondering if this was right. He heard Komaeda shuffling about, the whirling of his arm, and then, he felt Komaeda sliding the board game back onto the shelf. Thunder rumbles, the trees are being rustled by the wind, and Komaeda lets out a soft whew.

Hinata is still up until the moment he hears the padding of Komaeda’s soft footsteps, and he only truly relaxes when Komaeda’s slim arms encircle his waist, with Komaeda pressing his face into Hinata’s back. He pets Komaeda’s hair with a lop-sided smile, and Komaeda’s cheeks puff.

“You don’t just remember the simulation, right,” he murmured. “You have Kamukura-kun’s memories, too.”

“Technically,” Hinata replied. “Kamukura Izuru has to share them with me first. Sometimes he does. Sometimes he doesn’t.”

Komaeda huffed.

“It’s so complicated, keeping you two separate yet also together. Sometimes I wonder who I’m with.”

I wonder that, too. But what matters is…

“Regardless of who I am, I still love you.” He pats Komaeda’s head. “That much is and always will be clear.”

“Regardless of who you are, I love you, too,” is mumbled into his back.

It’s so soft a sound that Hinata wouldn’t have even heard him if not for the vibrations, but that’s fine. It’s not like he’s ignorant to Komaeda’s feelings. Not anymore.

He ushers Komaeda under the blankets, Komaeda still clinging to his wrist all the while. Chuckling softly, Hinata slips in after him and squeezes Komaeda’s hand. He rubs his thumb against the other’s pulse, only pausing because Komaeda grips him with the mechanical hand. His grip only tightens when Hinata kisses his forehead and then down his face.

“When the storm passes,” Hinata says, nuzzling along Komaeda’s jawline and pressing another kiss to his cheek where ensuing the blush tinted it pink. “We should send out letters.”

Komaeda ducks his head, but he still accepts the affection that he’s showered with.

“We should also walk along the beach, maybe,” Hinata teases. “See what gets washed up. It might be treasure.”

“You’re a treasure,” Komaeda retorted, flustered. Shoving Hinata’s hands off and his face away, he buried his face into Hinata’s chest, hiding it from further embarrassment. “You’re the worst thing to have ever washed up on that beach.”

Hinata hummed, stroking his hair.

I didn’t technically wash up, but…

“And yet you stayed behind for me.” Hinata hides his smile in those wild white curls. “You’re still here right now.”

Komaeda grumbled but gave no further response. That was fine. Perfectly fine.

Stay with me, alright? Please keep staying with me. He decided against asking that for now for now. Opting instead for, “Sweet dreams, Nagito. I love you.”