you shouldn't waste your time with a loser like me | closed.
Who: Nagito Komaeda (![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
raffle) and Shuichi Saihara (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
unsurely)
When: April 27, midnight.
What: Plot clue — "State of existence," just say Komaeda's "state of crazy" and he's Saihara's problem now.
Warnings: Komaeda being Komaeda.
raffle) and Shuichi Saihara (unsurely)When: April 27, midnight.
What: Plot clue — "State of existence," just say Komaeda's "state of crazy" and he's Saihara's problem now.
Warnings: Komaeda being Komaeda.
( komaeda doesn't really sleep properly like he should, and most nights consist of him moving here or there without warning — sitting still just isn't him, especially when he has to work unlike the others. some rest during this time, but komaeda's too obsessed with hope to let his nights slip him by, especially when it's going to be a quiet one yet again. he wonders, "what can i do now," to help push his fellow classmates so they continue making a hope that'll overcome any problem that they face. that's how his nights typically go alone, left to his thoughts and ideas they may get him somewhere or just leave him for dead. he doesn't care the consequences, really. he can hear the footfalls of his own steps as he passes through the hallway, and his eyes stay to the floor, staring at his own shadow crafted by the light of the moon outside the window.
and soon all sound should wash away and leave him to his thoughts, or that's what he thought as he's met with a sudden noise that makes his eyes widen. it's unfamiliar at this time, and he's been here for almost a month and hasn't heard anything akin to it. it's sharp in his ears, causing him to raise his hands to cover one to see if he's imagining things — yet, the sound echoes loud. between the recently earned tally within the day and this, it all leads back to one thing...
he's unsure, though, such a change in ambience from one mood to another reminds him a lot like before on the island at the start, so he has his reservations. he's quick to glare in direction of the windows before his face softens, and he glances at the various doors he's walking by — people have to be up if they hear this. it's the first one he decides to enter, rather lucky of him as he peeks in to see who inhabits it and there's a surprise waiting for him inside. he blinks once, then twice as the sound continues to roar above him as he remains where he stands, canting his head to the side confused. to see saihara asleep with this much noise is quite odd, so komaeda wonders if he's a heavy sleeper — from his appearance and the way he acts, he wouldn't think so. if not that, what he does appear to be is comfortable with his blanket draped along his shoulders and his head resting in his arms on the desk. komaeda watches from the door for a moment, wondering if he has any right here, but he pushes those thoughts away as he moves forward.
out of everyone he finds alone, it happens to be saihara shuichi, the ultimate detective and that thought is enough to make him smile, obsessively so. it's short-lived as he manages to walk towards his sleeping body, and with another desk positioned in front of him, komaeda pushes it back (the sound of it scraping along the floor) so that he can properly squat down in front of the ultimate. the length of his fingers hang onto the side of the desk that he's on, and his chin rests along the surface. his hand slowly reach out in his curiosity, wondering how someone could sleep during a raging storm — it sounds heavy, and the random pangs of thunder echoes within the classroom as well that could wake anyone. every time komaeda attempts to inch his hands closer to saihara's head, his hands freeze at every loud sound. is this... a sign of bad luck? being near him?
he doesn't know at the moment as he watches the youth's sleeping form, his eyes trained on his face just to see if he'll stir or not anytime soon. next, it's with cold, organic fingers that komaeda pinches at a few locks of hair that rest along saihara's forehead, admiring the texture for a moment as he rubs them between. )
imagine doing this w/o textarea
It's too late though; he's only caught the end of whatever's being said, and it's not enough to make anything out. ]
...
[ He's painfully aware, all of a sudden, of just how intimate this is. He'd drifted off at some point through his evidence review, the memory hazy of what exactly he'd been trying to connect before blacking out, and the next thing he knows is he's waking up with Komaeda's fingers through his hair, their faces close to each other over the desk. It takes all of Saihara's willpower not to self-consciously reach back up and try to touch the same strands as that sinks in, though he feels himself fluster.
Wait, what is he even thinking about...!? He's quick to grab his PDA and just type back again. ]
Komaeda-kun... it's past midnight? We can't talk to each other, you'll have to type.
[ Did the other just... forget?? Something tells Saihara that might not be quite it. ]
NOT US DELETING BACKWARDS N LOSING IT MIDPASTE AND WRITING SUMN UP ON THE SPOT
that answers his question, and in a way he's almost disappointed that he can't be saihara's first time either like this โ hearing the other's voice in the death of night feels special almost. that's because this is a special occasion, and he can't help but replay his tired tone over and over in his head. there's a part of him that wants to hear him again, whether it's his name, or anything else โ it really is a blessing to have an ultimate speak to you when he doesn't have to. with his prosthetic hand, he reaches out to settle it over the youth's hand that holds the pda, not even aware that he's done so. his fake hand works differently than his norm, and he believes he's holding onto the device. his other hand however moves slowly, and fingers slowly tap against the screen like an older gentleman who doesn't do much texting to begin with.
his eyes trained on the screen, but out of his peripheral he notices the yellow fabric that stands out with help of the light. he smiles to himself, thinking about how the ultimate detective must be hard at work. to have all this stuff so close, he must be heavily involved... which is something komaeda would expect from someone like him. )
I was excited... Forgive me, Saihara-kun...
( he waits for the other to take a look at what he's typed, but he finally realizes his hand is resting on the other's which might prevent him from turning to see, and komaeda's quick to draw it back. of course, he takes this time to add on a few more words for his mistake. )
I should have asked to touch you.
BRO STOP I WOULD'VE LITERALLY CRIED also i almost pasted ur tag instead of mine, help
Even if Komaeda, for some reason, hadn't seemed to feel the same. ]
No... it's okay. I'm not worried about that.
[ He types back at first once released, a little guiltily since he assumes it's his own reaction that caused this mess. It's not like he minded that Komaeda touched him, he was just... surprised. But there's no point to lingering on it, and his initial question sits still unanswered. Saihara tries to think back about the other's actions, or the portions he hazily remembers through his grogginess, combing for something that might offer any clues.
But the only thing that stands out in the end... is still something more recent. That's right. Does Komaeda always type like that...? ]
I don't mind if you touch me, but... is there something wrong with your hand? When you were typing your message, it kind of looked like you're in pain.
[ Is that it? Or is he overthinking it... ]
STPP I WAS DOWN LIKE 2 AND NOT ON THE RIGHT ONE N SAID WHY DID UR ICON CHANGE IUP
Hm... I did stir you from your slumber, you could be seeing things.
( he taps onto the pda, but there's no way to refute what he's seeing again as of now โ the way his hand drifts over the letters, tapping them gently. )
...But that would be an insult to a detective like yourself.
( that, and touching him which komaeda has to try very hard to prevent his breath from hitching at the prospect of being able to do that again. there's this sly smile across his lips as he looks at the hand that did such mischief, his thumb brushing against the pads of his mechanical fingers โ the soft whirring audible. can he really not hear it? )
The pain started today... so don't worry about it, trash like myself has no feeling so it'll cease soon.
( this is typed with his prosthetic hand so the pace is quicker than his other arm, still obvious that there's something wrong with his right. he puts it out of commission for now, laying it on the table with his palm up, and the green of his jacket stained with a few red spots here and there. yet, he says it's nothing to worry about. )
i'm crying we're GREAT at this
...Yeah, he's just deep in those thoughts and gives no reaction at all to the noise Komaeda makes with his arm. Pretty obvious he just doesn't hear a thing. ]
I can't just ignore it!? You're always like this... when it's about you, you'll brush it off no matter how bad it gets.
[ He types that quickly, hoping the urgency and the punctuation he chooses on purpose convey enough of his feelings. Sure, Komaeda might tell him it's nothing, but there's no way Saihara won't worry when it's confirmed he's in pain, and he can kind of see it for himself.
That said, though... as carefully as he eyes the other's palm and his fingers, he can't really see anything out of place from where he is. And if he went any further on his own... that'd just be a breach of Komaeda's private space. ...Why is he suddenly so self-conscious about this? ]
I'll only take a brief look... alright? I promise, so if you don't mind... then give me your hand.
off liek 3 hours of sleep/? we're great at parties
( he cants his head to the side as he watches saihara tap, tap, tap against the screen like something's wrong, but he doesn't see the need for urgency. it's just him after all, scum to the earth, a spec of dust in the wind that's easily blown away โ brushed off, courtesy of saihara's words. for an ultimate to place so much attention on him, he doesn't deserve it, he hasn't done anything to warrant his concern, and komaeda feels wrong for it. yet, it feels nice all the same despite how disgusting he feels for thinking this way. )
You want my hand...? Isn't that too soon... I mean...
( now's not the time to be funny, he knows, but it's because he's so careless with what's going on that it doesn't exactly matter what he says. the important matter about them engaging is learning why this is happening โ why saihara can't hear, why komaeda can. unfortunately, he keeps thinking about handing his hand over which makes his right pinky and ring finger twitch only a slight. )
Isn't it better to say it aloud... that's how one asks properly, right?
( who is he kidding? he knows better than to manipulate the situation, and even now he can feel a tingling sensation that comes from his arm yet again. it's habit by now as he brings over his left, his fingers scratching against the bothered area in two, repetitive motions of up and down. he's even using the fabric of his sleeve to add more padding in hopes the texture will be enough to make the itch go away. )
oh ur right this is just a fever dream
That's not what I meant!!
[ He's pretty sure he's turned a trace of something, not that he can see himself or (he hopes) it'd be that apparent in the darkness of the night, without proper lighting and only the moon from outside and the screens of their PDAs to rely on. (Wait... can Komaeda even see the moon if it's storming outside... important questions from me but Saihara can see it so yeah. The moon.) But his face feels hot... and how is he supposed to ask if he doesn't type it, anyway? Everything's silent. ]
...Ah.
[ He's so distracted he actually does speak aloud, if only for that brief cut-in before he remembers it's pointless. And... fails to realize Komaeda can hear it, I guess. But what prompts it precisely is the way the other scratches at his wrist -- it hadn't occurred to him because it's not like they've spoken about it in a while, but... now that he thinks of it, Komaeda's right arm bears something the rest of them only find on their left. Probably because that one's a prosthetic, right?
At least, with that in mind, everything seems to click in Saihara's head so he forgets his embarrassment again. ]
Is it about those weird marks...? Did something happen to them?
[ He slides the message over quickly, eyeing Komaeda across the desk, because if it really is about that... he can't help but worry even more. ]
it feels like i woke up on dr decadence once again
the grin he wears is a little mischievous now knowing that the other caught onto him, but it doesn't take long for it to change as he reads what's on the pda. he isn't wrong in his question, and komaeda is thinking about how to proceed forward with this. his mouth parts open, a soft "aaah...?" leaving from between his lips, and his eyes look up towards the ceiling in this childish expression on whether he should tell or not. how does he explain something so unnatural? then again, he hasn't even explained his hearing... it all plays together.
it makes him laugh almost (luckily he holds it in), seeing that everything about him stands out as a reminder of the past, but this is just komaeda's front row seat of watching growth. his lack of sleep, the amount of time he's put into his search to understand what's happening here and there... it's being able to watch how someone's hope plays a role for everyone thanks to special circumstances makes komaeda excited. anyone's hope will do, watching them overcome despairing situations towards a more positive goal... aren't they all lucky to be in this position? especially saihara, as an ultimate whose roots can dig deeper into the soil to swallow the nutrients even more? this is good for him! good for them!
he feigns his innocence, flinching as his prosthetic scratches harder, and there's a small tear that beads at the corner of one of his eyes. not that he's going to cry, but the pain feels nice, but he doubts the other will understand. he pulls his hand away, holding it out towards saihara to witness himself โ all he has to do is roll up the sleeve and inspect whatever he wants.
komaeda turns his head to look outside (to answer that question), the wind howling as if they're in the middle of a storm, although, he only witnesses a slight breeze once in a while that rustles the trees. so it's like clear outside, but the sound ain't right? isn't this what they call a strange anomaly? )
maybe u did... maybe this IS dr decadence
[ Something... feels off.
He can't tell what exactly, only that a sensation akin to a shiver runs down along his back and he freezes midway, his own hands hovering in motionless silence over the screen of the PDA he's set down on the desk. It sounds ridiculous even in his own head, but it seems like the person in front of him... almost knows something he doesn't. Like Komaeda has experienced something Saihara hasn't, and there's a crucial piece he's missing to solve this puzzle. For a second, his gaze insecurely follows the other's through the window, but there's nothing out of the ordinary about the scenery.
Is it related to why Komaeda was forgetting to type, and kept talking? What's going on...?
He's the one who asked to be allowed to look, and yet now he hesitates, to the point that the PDA light dims, and then switches off completely from the lack of use. And Saihara still hasn't moved. He wills himself forward, as if jolted by that disappearance of light, tilting Komaeda's wrist towards the window since that's now the most illuminated side. In contrast to the scratches from the metal arm, however, Saihara's own touch is gentle... he grabs the other's hand with his own, flinching slightly from the skin-to-skin contact before he settles to hold it.
And with his other... he slowly rolls up the sleeve, careful not to brush the bruised area with either fabric or his fingers. It hurts, right...? He doesn't want to make it worse. ]
STOPPPPPPPPPP its one of the ftes just a sneak peak b4 the trial
komaeda's already ugly, and while they all share tallies, he wonders if the mess will be off-putting โ this only crosses his mind from the skin to skin contact. he shouldn't have to touch something dirty as him, and while komaeda can feel his lips turn into a frown... it's short-lived. though he knows that he shouldn't look, and only saihara will be the judge of his worth, because komaeda too questioned himself once he saw it... for his own reassurance, his fingers weave into saihara's own. he shouldn't, but perhaps all of this is a dream anyway considering he can hear, and out the corner of his peripheral he notices how the light clicks off so that must mean the other has no use for it anymore.
there's no need to worry about making it worse, komaeda's handling of the spot has already caused a bit of blood to pool up from the cut in his arm that makes home with the rest of the other tallies. while the others appear to have been there for a long while, the extra one is fresher (no thanks to the blood that comes from it), but it's not bad, he just has to stop irritating it. the cool air makes the tally burn, and his hand squeezes a little tighter, until it relaxes yet again. if his wrist flinches, am i able to get blood on saihara's fingers? important. )
I'm sorry you have to touch disgusting trash like me, Saihara-kun... it really is unfair to you.
no this is a V3 love hotel scene after what u did to it
...wh!?
[ He's visibly startled, only a brief sound of surprise even he can't hold back or control escaping through his parted lips, barely noticed in the middle of everything else. What's going on...? There's the sticky sensation of still-warm blood on the tips of his fingers, unintentional he imagines, as he was pulling the sleeve and then Komaeda had flinched. But that's not the problem; and it isn't even that he's worried about it bleeding. The other had been scratching it through the fabric with metal appendages, so it kind of makes sense it'd do that...
No. The problem is something else. It looks... just like the others, but new.
Why...?
Saihara's got considerably more than these on his own wrist, and he's never seen any of them do that. And as a matter of fact... wait a minute. Didn't Komaeda only have six before? Where did the new one come from? He wouldn't even put it past him to carve it on his own, considering how he can be at times, but... no matter how you look at it, it'd simply be impossible to make it so equal and identical to the rest.
There are so many questions swirling around in his head, that Saihara can't help but glance upwards -- he needs to see the other's expression at the moment, or else he feels he'll go crazy with his own overthinking. But... what he catches instead is the end of the motion of Komaeda's lips, with the words "to you" the only two that seem clear from where he sees. And in a moment of clarity, as if the brief glow of moonlight across the other's features enlightens him too, it all clicks. ]
I thought so... you aren't the careless type, Komaeda-kun. You actually haven't been forgetting about the silence at all. The real reason you kept trying to talk to me... was because you can hear me, right? But... why? Is this related to that?
STOPPPPP NOT HIM ABOUT TO THROW TH EKEY IN THE TRASHCAN AFTER
saihara is far too smart for his own good, though, komaeda has done things to prove his question right โ talking, forgetting about the pda, urging him to do things so that he does communicate with him. yet, he ignores his voice so that his eyes can fall down to the other's hand that has a bit of blood coating his fingers. he's made quite the mess, hasn't he? he's ashamed of himself, knowing that even his blood on an ultimate holds no weight at all โ it can easily be washed away like it wasn't there in the first place. he doubts the male will use the armband that he has tucked beneath his notes, so komaeda smiles softly as he reaches out with his prosthetic hand to wrap it around saihara's wrist.
his grip is firm, making sure the other can't pull away as komaeda eyes train on every finger, but there's a specific few that warrant his attention. leaning forward, he parts his mouth again, not to talk, but to drag his tongue along the detective's digits to lap away the blood. his palate isn't as strong as it used to be, but the faint taste of iron is there, and he doesn't mind it at all. it's not like komaeda isn't used to it coating his tongue, being present in his mouth since he's had many unfortunate circumstances of throwing it up before.
in his mind, he made sure to go after the bloodied spots, but he may lick one that has nothing on them at all. he'll apologize considering his eyes are closed as he does this. he's making sure to go slow, not to do anything out of the ordinary (this is pretty normal for him). )
he should've done that from the start
[ He reacts almost immediately, the strangled sound in the back of his throat being joined by his shoulders coming up as his whole body stiffens. He might have jumped from his seat right away, if only he didn't have the other's fingers wrapped around his wrist, the force of the metal far overpowering anything he could do with his regular strength. Besides, even as he does try to rise from his seat, his legs feel like jelly and just give out right away, leaving him with no option but to fall back where he was.
He tries to jerk at his wrist a few times, as if the other will let him go if he does it enough. ]
Wh-Wh-What are you doing...!? Komaeda-kun!?
[ What other choice does he have than to hope he was right and the other can hear him? He's barely able to articulate even those few words, his voice pitched high and every word sounding choked, like he's forgotten to breathe in-between. ]
...Y-You're going too far! This is beyond not being mindful of personal space!
[ Which is a problem they've had before that he's had to be firm about on occasion, but this is really... What's going on!? ]
sorry the manacle doesnt come off during sex
it was wrong of him, unsightly probably, but that's all komaeda's good for, cleaning up messes, causing messes... and here, he's done the same thing just by existing. despite those negative feelings about himself, he seems to be in good spirits about it at least... and even though his arm pains him to move, he can't help but wrap his arms around himself. he takes a deep breath in an attempt to calm himself down, his eyes downcast on the desk before him until he remembers... the pda.
he can hear saihara loud and clear, but the youth can't hear him so it doesn't matter to exchange conversation this way. he speaks aloud though, hearing his own voice during the storm does sound like the perfect time for trouble, you know? )
I'm sorry... I just want to be of use to you in someway...
( he releases himself in hopes that he has finally calmed down, but that's not the case โ instead, he notices the desk between them. he stands up with little to no effort unlike saihara, and komaeda lifts his knee up so that he can attempt to climb on top of the desk. why? well, how else is he going to get to saihara, he can endure the way it shakes under his weight. besides, his hope is already bright, a light that draws him in, and just like a moth...
komaeda doesn't mind being burned alive by it. )