#it is light and bright and sure its technically spooky but you dont have to be scared to enjoy the holiday

[squeeneyart]

Breathe in the Salt - Chapter 7

AO3

Beta read by @thesnadger who does a great job

Tim and Martin sit out the nausea.

Martin talks to himself.

“You sure you don’t want to head home for the day?” Tim asked, picking at the grass beside him. He and Martin sat with their backs pressed against the cliff railing, facing away from the steep drop. The lighthouse loomed in front of them, barely casting a shadow as morning ticked closer to noon.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” Martin replied. He rested his arms on his knees, his chin buried into the fabric of his coat sleeves. “I don’t really feel like walking down the hill yet? I’ll at least wait for the others to get back.”

“Well, they should be here soon, unless the place Simon pointed us toward is yet another weird building that makes you feel like you’re falling into a big hole.” Tim squinted up at the sky and immediately seemed to regret it, leaning forward to drop his face between his knees. “Ugh, the Fairchild place was almost as bad as here. I’m surprised we survived the walk back down. If we didn’t have someone leading us out, we’d probably be swallowed up by the carpet! Sorry to say, but I think your whole town is fucked. Or any place owned by the weird old guy club, I guess.”

Martin grimaced. “I don’t get how Jon and Sasha seem so unbothered by it. If it were just me, I’d chalk it up to stress or something, but, well.”

Tim nodded in solemn understanding. “‘But, well’.’” He lifted his head and squinted in the sunlight. “It could be they’re faking it and I’m the only one willing to ‘fess up. If that’s the case, they’ve been really good at pretending their stomachs haven’t been dropping straight into the sea all weekend. But, between you and me, Jon can’t act for shit.”

Martin’s shoulders bobbed with silent laughter. “He seems very easy to read, yeah.”

“Oh yeah, I don’t think he’s ever successfully lied in his life, unless you count avoiding a subject altogether.” Tim smiled and leaned back against the railing, brushing a hand over his hair. “Glad you two are getting on, by the way. I’m sure Sasha already talked to you about it, but the turnaround really was impressive. I was concerned he’d just be pissy this whole week over some spilt tea.”

Martin buried the bottom of his face a degree further into his coat. “Please don’t remind me. Anyway, I’m sure having something weird to chase after helped. Means this place wasn’t a total waste of time for you.”

“Hey, it wasn’t gonna be a total waste. I can’t speak for him, but I for one love to make new connections.” He waggled his eyebrow, making Martin snort and turn a brighter shade of red. “Really, though, you’ve been a lot of help. If the walk home is that bad, you should just stay up where the sun actually hits for a while. None of us will mind if you hang around, and I need someone here to prove that my dizzy spells aren’t just me being ridiculous.”

Martin’s mouth sunk into a frown. “No, once they get back I’ll head home. Lunch won’t make itself.”

“What, don’t want to grab something with us nerds?” Tim asked, smiling broadly.

“N-No, I just, y’know, I bought groceries yesterday, and if I eat out too much, I’ll end up wasting some of it, and-” Martin searched for more excuses that wouldn’t bring his mother into the picture and failed.

Tim scrunched his eyebrows together in thought, then took out his phone and asked, “What’s your number?”

“What?”

“Your mobile? In case we need to reach you. And so I can send you dumb shit in my down time that I’ve already sent to Sasha.”

For a moment, Martin sat in stunned silence. “Um. Okay?” He said, his voice cracking in the most embarrassing way possible. Then, slowly, he took an old phone out of his coat pocket, technically a smart phone but just barely. They exchanged numbers, and Martin stared at the new contact before slipping the phone back into place.

“There, now you’re stuck with me. I’ll keep you updated if Sasha and Jon do in fact decide to do something stupid that gets us all disappeared. Speaking of,” Tim said, shading his eyes with a hand. “Here they come now, and Jon looks especially irritated.” They both stood up, grasping at the railing and sharing a weary look.

“Come on, guys,” Sasha yelled from the bottom of the steps. “Break time’s over.”

Back inside, the four of them sat around the table. From the looks on their faces, Jon and Sasha had been disappointed by their short venture. “So, how are you two doing?” Sasha asked. “How’s the nausea?

“Oh, just fine. We can almost get up without losing breakfast.” Tim said. “How was the place?”

Jon crossed his arms. “Unsurprisingly, Simon Fairchild sent us to an inaccessible piece of private property owned by the Lukas family. We couldn’t even get anyone to come to the door. For now, it may be a dead end.”

“I could try to get Peter to let us in?” Martin suggested with little enthusiasm.

Sasha looked at his obviously pained expression and shook her head. “No, bad idea. Simon was pretty clear on Peter not knowing we went to his home. I’d guess that extends to any of us going into this other place. If what you said happened back at the house is true, I don’t want that kind of risk. We’ll have to try it later and hope for an answer.”

Martin let out a relieved sigh and stood. “Good, good idea. I’ll be going then. I guess if you need me for… questions? Updates? Tim has my number.”

Sasha raised her eyebrows at Tim in amusement, while Jon rolled his eyes and scowled. With a lopsided smile, Tim shrugged and said, “What? The guy lives at the bottom of the world. We can’t drag him up and down that hill all day.”

Perhaps quicker than necessary, Martin excused himself and walked out of the building. The last bit of conversation he heard was Jon complaining about a lack of workplace professionalism, followed by Tim making a mocking comment that Martin couldn’t quite hear.

Once he had walked a little ways away, he relaxed. They really did balance each other out, the three of them. He could imagine Sasha breaking them apart in a little while, then getting them on task like before.

His hand brushed against the phone in his pocket, and he felt a little pang in his throat. He pushed the sensation down. Chances were, they wouldn’t need to call him, and it would be best to pay as little attention to his phone as he always had.

--

After the usual walk home, Martin approached his mother in front of the television. There was one of her Christian programs playing, the kind with the television preacher. “Hi, Mum.”

“You took much longer than usual,” she said stiffly. He could see her attempting to swallow and went toward the kitchen.

“Sorry, work ran long today. I’ll get lunch going.” He began to look through the fridge, considering his options.

“I’m not hungry. Just want a glass of water,” she said, her voice hoarse. Martin winced.

“One second.” He quickly filled a glass from the tap and brought it to her. “You will need to eat something to get your medication down. I’ll make something for both of us and we’ll see how you’re feeling then.”

She huffed in response, taking a sip of water and clearing her throat. Once food was ready, she did eat enough for her medication and then some, setting Martin at ease.

“It’s sunny today, if you’d like to sit out front,” he suggested after cleaning up the tray in front of her. She sniffed and otherwise stayed silent. “Okay… let me know if you change your mind. The fog even cleared out a bit-”

“I am not going outside today.”

“Okay.”

Martin left her alone and went back to the kitchen and set some chicken in the fridge to defrost. His future self would thank him later, he thought, and he went upstairs to figure out the rest of his Sunday.

The first order of business was to lay down and sleep for a while. Two busy mornings in a row and he was exhausted, the muscles in his legs finally catching up to all of the extra walking. As he lay down, he thanked his walls, bed, and windows for staying in place and gently drifted off to sleep.

Several hours later, Martin woke to find the sun had retreated back behind clouds and a familiar layer of fog. He reached for his phone on the bedside table to check the time. 4:30 pm. It was almost time to get dinner started, but before he could move to set the phone down, he saw there was text notification. Without his glasses, he had to squint and hold the phone close to his face. The brightness stung his eyes. The messages were from about fifteen minutes ago.

Tim: hey Tim: what do these weird knobs and buttons do anyway

Attached was a distorted photo, apparently of the upstairs console in the lighthouse.

“Shit,” Martin mumbled, tapping out an answer.

Martin: dont know, peter never told me. work the lighthouse i guess, make sure the big light is running. Martin: also what does all the static mean

Almost immediately, he got a response.

Tim: is that how lighthouses work? Tim: means its weird shit. weird shit hates digital

Martin: its the only lighthouse ive ever worked in, your guess is as good as mine Martin: oh good

No response came for a bit, and Martin took the pause to get out of bed. Halfway down the stairs, his phone buzzed.

Tim: update, stairs still bad Tim: arseholes who don’t get spooky vertigo club

Attached was another photo, still fuzzy, this time of Jon and Sasha walking ahead with Tim’s hand just barely in frame, clutching the rail. Jon was looking at the camera with a stern expression, his mouth open in the middle of saying something. Martin laughed quietly and continued walking.

In the time it took to prepare the chicken for baking, his phone vibrated in his pocket a few times. With his hands coated, there was no way to check until he slid the chicken into the oven twenty minutes later.

Tim: dont think anything stupid will happen tonight Tim: no one’s gotten too desperate yet but tomorrow is a new day Tim: will let you know if we end up getting arrested in the middle of the night for trespassing tho

Martin: haha, very funny

Tim: give it until tuesday

Martin’s eyebrow twitched, unsure of how seriously to respond.

Martin: please dont get me fired?

Tim: no promises! ;)

It felt like a lighthearted enough response to put Martin at ease. Tim liked joking. Martin knew that by now. If Tim was saying it, then it was a joke. Plus, it was clear Sasha and Jon were very by-the-books. If Jon would lecture Tim about texting, he certainly wasn’t the type to do anything illegal.

Still, the number of times Tim had joked about it made Martin irrationally nervous. That and Simon being cryptic and threatening. And the buildings trying to make him sick. And Jon-

Sliding his phone into his back pocket, Martin distracted himself with preparing the rest of their dinner. It wasn’t the time to spiral. He had chicken in the oven and vegetables to steam.

Dinner was made and eaten within the hour, and Martin’s phone stayed silent for the duration. When his mother asked to go outside after dinner, he did his best not to be outwardly irritated at her change of mind and did as she requested, covering his face to protect himself against the night wind.

It wasn’t until later when he had just about settled down for bed that Martin checked his phone, under the pretense that he was setting his alarm for the morning. There were no unread messages, so he set his phone down onto the side table to charge.

The fog rolled outside his window, illuminated by the weak light of the front porch. When sleep eventually took him, he dreamed of nothing.

--

When 6 am came, Martin found himself in an empty lighthouse. Under his arm was the expected box of documents he was to work with for the week, which he set on his desk. He then dragged his chair back over from the folding table, which was still littered with loose papers and three used mugs.

“Right, right. Library day. They could’ve at least remembered to clean up a bit.” Martin brought the dirty dishware to the kitchen and placed them in the sink to soak, then looked around for something clean to use for himself. He managed to find a kitschy one he’d always liked, with a tiny, smiling whale on the side.

“Looks like it’s just you and me.”

His voice echoed through the building, the final ‘me’ stretching on much too long.

Martin glared out into the main room. “Yeah, yeah, I’m alone, laugh it up.”

Again, the last ‘up’ lingered and drifted up the stairs, and he wanted to slap himself for walking right into that one. There was no point in talking back to a possibly haunted building.

He settled on silently making himself some tea, then dove into the week’s work. It was mind-numbing, as expected, but after a while it grew to be calming and familiar. The weird ache in his chest gave way to distraction, and hours ticked by without interruption. Martin began to feel normal, or his version of normal before things started to be poked and prodded. Before he knew it, he had eaten lunch and was on his way to the second half of his shift.

“...up.”

Martin jumped, almost knocking over his tea. That had been his voice. Just a single noise that hung in the air with no echo to be heard. No, he thought, no, no, no, he was not going to take any bait in this place. He righted himself in his chair and reached for the pen he had dropped.

“Me. Up.” Even with his original tone resting in those syllables, the new sense of urgency was unmistakable.

Against every part of his brain screaming at him, he took a step toward the stairs. Before he could go any further the front door swung open.

“Hey, Martin, we’re back,” Sasha said, carrying a file folder. “We- woah, are you okay?”

Martin stopped and stared at her, his jaw clenched to the point of pain. “Um. Define okay.”

The three researchers stopped and shared a concerned look. Sasha walked over to set her things on the table. “Okay, okay, clearly something happened.”

“What’s going on?” Jon asked, looking around warily.

Before Martin could open his mouth, his voice came from above. “Up.”

Everyone froze, holding their breath for a moment. Jon was first to break the silence, his voice filled with disdain. “Good. It can record us now.”

“Up. Now.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Tim gripped Jon’s shoulder and gestured insistently to the front door. They all vacated the building and stopped on the front steps, finally letting out a collective breath.

“Have you all, um, dealt with ghosts? Directly?” Martin sat on the bottom step, rubbing his hands over each other. “Ones that take the last word you said?”

“We don’t know if it’s a ghost, but no, not personally,” Jon replied, sitting a few steps up and typing on his laptop. “Can’t say I really believe in them, either.”

Tim snorted. “Yeah, sure, definitely not a ghost in there.”

“I’m inclined to suspect something more concrete. Somehow, the lighthouse was trapping the sound of our voices. According to Martin it only used the last words he uttered, and the same happened with me. With only a few things to work with, it wouldn’t be hard to-”

“To accidentally order us up the creepy staircase of the creepy lighthouse.” Tim stood, hands in his pockets.

“If it’s using ‘me’, ‘up’, and ‘now’, what else could it say? Otherwise, there was just ‘back’ and okay’ as far as I can tell.”

They continued to go back and forth, Jon being much more stubborn about the whole thing than Martin would’ve expected from a paranormal researcher. Maybe ghosts were an especially contended subject? It didn’t seem like it from Tim and Sasha’s reactions, but Martin was out of his depth. People turning into seals was a far cry from specters and mind-bending architecture.

Still, it being a ghost sounded right. There were meaning and intent behind the words repeated back to him, he was certain of it. If that was the case, maybe there was someone or something in this place trying to talk to him. That’s what ghosts did, right? Reach out to the living?

“Then we’ll just have Martin stay outside for a bit,” Jon said, closing his laptop decisively.

Martin found himself back in the conversation. “What?”

“We’re going to try the place Simon pointed us toward again. Hopefully, we’ll be let in this time and get some answers. The library didn’t have much in terms of useful information, I’m afraid.”

Sputtering, Martin replied, “So, what, I’m just going to wait out here? I still have work to do!”

Jon stared at him and sighed. “Bring it outside then. It shouldn’t rain today, and we don’t want to risk anything now that we know something is… active. You’re sure nothing like this has ever happened?”

“No, this is... new.”

“Then the safest thing is to avoid whatever is going on. It’s for your own well-being, and since we’re probably the cause of it, I don’t want to be in the business of putting people in danger.” Jon said. Martin was at a loss for arguments and nodded. “Good. If our luck hasn’t changed, we’ll be back soon. Otherwise, I suppose Tim will text you the good news.” There was a slight, acidic turn to Jon’s voice near the end that Martin couldn’t place.

Martin pushed himself onto his feet. “Okay… good luck? I guess? I’ll go get my work, then.”

Apparently satisfied, Jon placed his laptop into its case and motioned for the other two to follow him. As they left, Tim shot Martin a worried thumbs up.

When Martin walked back inside, he stopped halfway to the desk, eyes glued to the staircase. He had told Jon he would get his things and go outside.

“Hello?” Martin waited and got no response. “If you’re a ghost, now’s the time to say so.” Still nothing. He let out a noise of frustration. “Say something? Please?”

“Hello? Up. Please?”

Taking a glance back at his desk, Martin bit his tongue and internally berated himself. No use giving the place a name to call him. He really was an idiot, he thought, creeping up the staircase as if the ghost might hear his footfalls. Why had he taught it to be polite?

[komahinasecretexchange]

Title: So… Proposals, Huh?

Author: @thatsrightdollface

For: @namsuuuuuuu

Rating/Warnings: Somewhere between G and T, again.  :P

Prompt: komaeda and hinata are back in jabberwock island, watching the sunset on the beach (or somewhere else ill leave that up to you) just chatting and then komaeda randomly says he wants to marry the hope sleeping inside of hinata and hinata is like tf are u saying now komaeda i dont have time for ur bs (the plot twist is that they do get married)

Author’s Notes:  :D  Gift three out of three for you!!!  I truly hope you’ve had fun with them…  Happy Komahina exchange, and I’m sorry for anything I got weird!  Thank you.  :’)  This one is about 2,000 words!

It was easy to forget this version of Jabberwock Island wasn’t real. The sand was just as warm under Hajime Hinata’s feet as it would’ve been otherwise – just as likely to be filled with spiny buried shells, too, and bits of sea glass like opaque chess pieces with all their features worn away.  Knights without battles left to fight; kings without crowns worked into the makeshift bone of their tiny heads.   Sunlight catching over the ocean even stung Hinata’s eyes just as badly as the real thing did, on that boat where he lived now with all the other former Remnants of Despair.  He had thought it was funny when Nagito Komaeda asked to come back here, into the simulation where they’d met.  But hey, a lot of what Komaeda said or wanted seemed kinda funny to Hinata, and so he’d said screw it.  Why not?

Jabberwock Island had been meant as such a healing place, on that pseudo-class trip so long ago.  Too many of Hinata’s memories from that time were sour, though, obviously.   Focused on murder games, Ultimate Despair and some dumb robotic bear.  The smell of blood and sea-salt.   Class trials.  The Final Dead Room.  All that.  But not every memory was awful, Hinata supposed.  It would’ve been hard to forget how warm and comfortable things were with Komaeda at first, there, before he started in on his toxic, murder-y Hope shtick.  Before Hinata learned who all of them really were, or had been, or could give into one more time.

It wasn’t that Hinata felt a burning need to build sandcastles on Jabberwock Island again – especially given the way bizarre things always seemed to happen to Komaeda’s sandcastles, like the one that got swallowed by a huge groaning whale or the one that sank into a mysteriously-opened underground crypt they’d decided not to explore thanks to all the bloodstains.  Komaeda being the former Ultimate Lucky Student was just like that.  But Hinata hadn’t been exactly opposed to riding that Jabberwock Island carousel one more time, either.  Komaeda’d rested his cheek against the fancy mechanical horse’s hand bar thing and closed his eyes for a second, then, listening to the music.

Hinata and Komaeda were the only two running the Jabberwock Island simulation, just then, and the world seemed so quiet all around without their classmates dueling one another over snack food or screaming about the fearsome might of demonic hamsters.  That was okay, though.  Komaeda hated loud places, and Hinata knew sometimes the Remnants’ boat got to be a little much for him.  They were in pretty cramped quarters nowadays, after all, and Komaeda’s bunk was just across from Nekomaru Nidai’s.  The Ultimate Team Manager wasn’t known for a subdued daily routine, not by a long stretch, and Komaeda kept having to patch up his newly-splintered wall before seagulls flew in and attempted to nest in his hair, or a wave swept up and drenched everything he owned in sticky ocean water.  Hinata had asked Komaeda to trade bunks a few times by now, and Komaeda always glanced over him slowly, then.  Calculating.  He had something to say about that business, for sure, but he hadn’t actually said it yet.

The sun was setting over Jabberwock Island, now, and Hinata was leaning back in one of those beach chairs he and his classmates hadn’t gotten to relax in much back during their murder game days.  The sky looked sweet and syrupy citrus, like a pack of popsicles melting all over the ocean.  Once, that dripping red-pink strawberry sun would’ve made Hinata think about bleeding, first.  Probably because he’d seen so many of his friends bleeding into the sand.  Now, Hinata tried to decide if Komaeda would’ve rather had a lime or grapefruit popsicle, if he went to grab some.  Komaeda didn’t really like sweet things, but it was ridiculously hot on the islands even as nighttime came.  Maybe they’d have to get back to the boat soon, actually.  Make sure nobody’d finally sunk the damn thing.

Komaeda’s hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail low on his neck – he was burying his own legs in the sand, thoughtfully.  Slowly.  It probably meant something that Hinata’s first thought on the matter had been “Huh, maybe Komaeda’s making himself a fish tail or something?” instead of “Looks like Komaeda’s burying himself alive.”

“All I’m saying is I think I could’ve had that boss myself if I’d picked different armor,” Hinata said.  They were talking about this video game they’d been playing with Sonia Nevermind lately, back in the bowels of the Remnants of Despair boat.  It was a game that’d used to belong to Chiaki Nanami, the Ultimate Gamer – it was a game Hinata was determined to finish up even if it was super hard and took him a million years.  Hinata was playing as a Rogue that’d turned out to be frustratingly difficult to level up, the Ultimate Princess was playing a Berserker with tons of expensive weaponry and Komaeda was playing a Paladin he’d somehow managed to corrupt pretty early into the game with insanely powerful dark magic.  It was an easy conversation.  Hinata had been over this before, and he knew just as well as any of them that his character definitely couldn’t have taken on this particular boss all alone.  Sonia’s and Komaeda’s characters probably could’ve done it, though, so he had to hold his own, didn’t he?

“Oh, I’m sure,” Komaeda said, clearly unconvinced.  He patted down the sand over his ankles.  Shot Hinata a soft smile.  “I’d offer you my armor – but it’s cursed, you know.  Pretty unlucky…  I can only wear cursed armor, after all…”  That was one of the conditions of Komaeda’s dark magic thing, in the game.  He was communing with ancient eldritch creatures living behind these spooky black mirrors you could find everywhere, too.  That was gonna be an important plot thing, Hinata just knew it.

“I could try it out, at least,” Hinata said.  “Hey…  Before we head home, do you want a lime or a grapefruit popsicle?”

“Lime,” said Komaeda.  He wiggled his toes under their layers of sand.  Tipped his head over so it rested against Hinata’s arm for just the barest second.  And then he said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, “I want to marry the hope sleeping inside of you, Hinata.  Did you know that?”

“What…  Uh.  What the hell are you saying?” Hinata asked.  He tensed up.  He thought about jerking away, but of course that would mean Komaeda tipped sidewise, if he didn’t pull back fast enough.  Komaeda would knock his chin on the beach chair armrest and probably end up with a chipped tooth or something.  Komaeda had injured more bones than Hinata’d even known existed, apparently.  The former Ultimate Lucky Student would laugh another accident off without seeming too surprised, even as he bled more bright salty blood into the sands of that super-fake, too-familiar Jabberwock Island.  “We don’t have time for any of your…  You know.  We can’t mess around like this.  C’mon.  We have to get back to the boat soon.”

“Oh, you’re right,” Komaeda said.

…

Hinata and Komaeda’s wedding was a fairly small one, in part because the Remnants of Despair were still technically on the run from international law.  Sure it was a little unconventional to get married inside a simulation, but they made it work.  The whole “simulation” bit made it a little easier for some of their more distant friends to attend, too.  Komaeda just about screamed, clapping his mechanical prosthetic hand over his mouth when he saw the actual Ultimate Hope in the audience…  And Hinata walked up the aisle to meet him holding Chiaki Nanami’s arm.  Well.  A simulated computer-program version of Chiaki Nanami, but if anyone was going to give him away nowadays it would’ve had to be her, right?  They still hadn’t beaten that particular game she’d left behind, with all those black mirrors and Hinata’s incredibly difficult-to-play Rogue, but they were getting there.  Things would come together in time…  Or else Sonia would just get fed up and kick all the enemy characters’ asses on her own, one of these days.

Hinata couldn’t honestly believe how everything was coming together around him, actually, but there it was all the same.  When he’d given Komaeda a ring a few weeks after their conversation on the beach, Komaeda had opened his mouth like he had so many things to say.   Monologues about Hope and worthiness, about his own ruinous luck – exclamations about the potential he’d always seen inside Hinata, like a sacred stone burning with light from deep under a mountain.  Something. But he’d just melted into Hinata’s arms, actually.  He’d hidden his face in the crook of Hinata’s neck and murmured, “…I thought you decided all that was just some of my bullshit again…”

The ring had words engraved along the inside of its thin white-gold band.  Hinata would probably be in debt to the Ultimate Affluent Progeny for all time, after borrowing enough to have it made.

Nanami had done up Hinata’s tie for him, just before the wedding, telling him they’d come a long way.  His hands were shaking too much to do it up himself, which was weird because, you know, this was Komaeda waiting at the end of the aisle.  This was Hinata’s Komaeda, who he knew he didn’t have to be nervous around by now.   Komaeda whose hair he’d pulled out of his face while he was seasick, and who hadn’t known what to say when he read what Hinata engraved on the inside of his ring.  Komaeda who actually hadn’t worn that ring yet, not even once.  The Former Ultimate Lucky Student was sure it would end up exploded or melted off his hand, somehow, because of who he’d always been.  And y’know, that might’ve been true, but Hinata had bought the thing for him anyway.  Hinata knew what he was getting into, here.

He’d caught just a glimpse of Komaeda in a pale cream suit, standing with his hands behind his back under a canopy hanging with shells and flowers, strung with soft lights.  Komaeda was standing so still, as if that could keep his luck from wrecking the moment just before it came.  He was waiting with his eyes closed, a peaceful smile on his face, ready to see Hinata whenever Hinata decided he was ready for him. Their friends were sitting in rows before them, on either side of a pathway lined with spiny seashells Gundham Tanaka had gotten his army of ferocious hamsters to dig out of the sand for them just that morning.   The ocean sparkled at Komaeda’s back, unknowable and huge, full of monsters and sunken ships and – well, actually…  Maybe not.  This was an artificial ocean, after all.  It existed for this moment on the sand.   So easy to forget that, huh?

Ibuki Mioda, the Ultimate Musician, played something uncharacteristically slow and gentle on her guitar as Hinata started up the aisle.  She sang a new song Hinata hadn’t heard before, about impossible luck, about proposals made that didn’t expect to be believed, about her friends who had believed in a future even when she couldn’t. Komaeda shifted when that music started up, blinking his eyes open against the glare of the sun.  When he saw Hinata watching him, he choked out a laugh.  Komaeda laughed when he was nervous, Hinata knew.

He mouthed the words, “We’re okay.  Breathe,” as he walked, and Komaeda took a deep, shaky breath.

This was all just a few minutes before that huge wave came, taking away most of the canopy and a whole table full of food the Ultimate Chef had prepared for everybody, but…  Hey.  Hinata and Komaeda each got in most of their vows before any of that, at least.  There you go.