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Entry tags:
- !event,
- 2064 rom: turing,
- dangan ronpa: hajime hinata,
- dangan ronpa: kiyotaka ishimaru,
- dangan ronpa: kokichi ouma,
- dangan ronpa: shuichi saihara,
- elsword: clamor ventus,
- elsword: noah ebalon,
- fate: sherlock holmes,
- hanako-kun: nene yashiro,
- mo dao zu shi: meng yao,
- my hero academia: shoto todoroki,
- red dead redemption: arthur morgan
May event/tdm
Golden Week (closed to current characters)
On the 28th, Aiko Okane's body is returned to the auditorium, rotten and still thawing when the first student walks in upon her and screams themselves hoarse. She is swiftly removed and the auditorium is closed for the rest of the day for deep cleaning, the smell of disinfectant lingering for days after. In honor of the late student council president, a gorinto is later set up on one of the windowsills in the art room, stones perpetually damp and causing those who touch it to experience vivid flashbacks of flashing strobe lights so bright it's nauseating, a spinning room, hands covered in soot, a shadow moving from behind a bookcase, sharp pain in the back of the head—-
The school empties out for Golden Week starting on the 29th, and just like during spring break, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable without the staff present. The library and club rooms remain open, but what supplies there were at the start of the school week won't be replenished until the end of break two weeks later— and there are many more mouths to feed now. At least those mouths don't include two cats, both of which make themselves scarce on the morning of the 29th and cannot be found at school for the remainder of break, possibly spooked and in hiding due to the arrival of a dozen repairmen who phase through the front doors to repair the ceilings and pipes. Faces obscured with gas masks, carrying bags of plaster and lugging toolboxes, the repairmen work tirelessly from six in the morning to six in the evening over the next three days, appearing not to see the others in the school— they do not hear anything said to them, and, if somebody tries to touch them, their bodies pass through one another like the shadow students through the doors. But the school looks a lot better by the end of the three days, the ceiling tiles secure so that they're no longer in danger of falling and must be forcibly pushed through to access the crawlspace, and entire sections of pipe replaced from underneath the fourth floor bathroom and the clog with it, resulting in slightly clearer water, though still very very lightly tinged pink.
The repairmen finish and leave the evening of the 1st, and that night, the sound of hissing can be heard just before the usual midnight silence. Even through gift fairy or homemade gas masks, the air smells slightly sour, heavy and hard to breathe, a white mist seen hanging around the school and in the courtyard outside that doesn't dissipate with the sunlight the following morning. Those unprotected start to feel ill, cold and feverish, uncomfortably bloated despite empty bellies. Out of the corner of their eyes they see glimpses of the person they miss the most, but nobody is there when they turn around. Their heads fill with whispered accusations of all their shortcomings, chiding and blaming and mocking in the disembodied voices of the people dearest to them until the constant white noise finally tapers off and disappears on the fourth night, and the mist lifts with the rising sun the morning of the 6th.
Skittering can be heard in the ceiling overhead. The rats are still alive.
The school empties out for Golden Week starting on the 29th, and just like during spring break, the faculty office and nurse's office are locked and unavailable without the staff present. The library and club rooms remain open, but what supplies there were at the start of the school week won't be replenished until the end of break two weeks later— and there are many more mouths to feed now. At least those mouths don't include two cats, both of which make themselves scarce on the morning of the 29th and cannot be found at school for the remainder of break, possibly spooked and in hiding due to the arrival of a dozen repairmen who phase through the front doors to repair the ceilings and pipes. Faces obscured with gas masks, carrying bags of plaster and lugging toolboxes, the repairmen work tirelessly from six in the morning to six in the evening over the next three days, appearing not to see the others in the school— they do not hear anything said to them, and, if somebody tries to touch them, their bodies pass through one another like the shadow students through the doors. But the school looks a lot better by the end of the three days, the ceiling tiles secure so that they're no longer in danger of falling and must be forcibly pushed through to access the crawlspace, and entire sections of pipe replaced from underneath the fourth floor bathroom and the clog with it, resulting in slightly clearer water, though still very very lightly tinged pink.
The repairmen finish and leave the evening of the 1st, and that night, the sound of hissing can be heard just before the usual midnight silence. Even through gift fairy or homemade gas masks, the air smells slightly sour, heavy and hard to breathe, a white mist seen hanging around the school and in the courtyard outside that doesn't dissipate with the sunlight the following morning. Those unprotected start to feel ill, cold and feverish, uncomfortably bloated despite empty bellies. Out of the corner of their eyes they see glimpses of the person they miss the most, but nobody is there when they turn around. Their heads fill with whispered accusations of all their shortcomings, chiding and blaming and mocking in the disembodied voices of the people dearest to them until the constant white noise finally tapers off and disappears on the fourth night, and the mist lifts with the rising sun the morning of the 6th.
Skittering can be heard in the ceiling overhead. The rats are still alive.
05/06 06:00 (open to all)
You open your eyes.
Whether you're standing in the middle of the locker area or sitting up from under one of the classroom desks, the school feels a lot... brighter... than you remember in the last handful of years (years? somehow, it feels like years) that you've attended this school. Bright sunlight shining through the windows is almost nauseating to look at, as if on the cusp of a migraine, and words swim on textbook pages and is twice as difficult to understand. Maybe it's just back-to-school jitters, the nurse sympathizes if you visit the nurse's office, offering a mug of ginger tea to settle the stomach and a soft cot to lie down on for a few minutes, but break is over and there is so much to be excited for at school, especially the charity auction coming up in the next couple of days.
Donations are displayed in glass cases all around the auditorium, including items and services, a box of """cursed chalk""" that's surprisingly garnered a lot of interest, and a human body that unsurprisingly has not garnered much if at all. A skinny black cat can be seen lounging on top of the lattermost case, staring down at the students milling around the auditorium as they check their PDAs for merit points and murmur about it being too late and that they'll have to make do with what they have until the auction date on the 10th. More information about the auction can be found on the bulletin board, which also displays a new poster announcing an open seat in the student council in which all are encouraged to apply starting the 10th, and to run their campaigns until the 31st when an assembly will take place for approved candidates to debate.
Also updated on the bulletin board are the class rankings, current as of the start of the month, with class 1-B leading the pack and 2-C following close behind. With the weather as nice as it is, students of these two homerooms occasionally hold their classes outside in the courtyard this month, seated on the grass or on blankets around the wisteria tree as they balance chalkboard slates on their laps and listen to the lecture in the fresh air and warm sunlight. As long as they're with their teacher, characters in class 1-B and 2-C are able to exit into the courtyard this month, although if they stray too far out of the courtyard towards the pool area, their consciousness will start to fade until they leave the courtyard and black out completely.
For everybody regardless, there are classes to attend and quizzes to take and blood to pour out of your shoes because— uh?? You're in the middle of a quiz and pick up your eraser, but it's been replaced with one so dry and hard that all it does is smear the graphite and tear a hole in your paper. You get up from a long hour of class and nearly chip your teeth on the edge of the desk falling over because somebody's tied your ankle to the desk leg with quadruple-knotted twine. You're washing your hands in the bathroom and instead of liquid soap, the dispenser pours out silver glitter all over your hands and pants and shoes to coat for the rest of the month. You open your locker and are met with a face full of bees that burst out and causes everybody to evacuate the area until the janitor can coax them all outside. You're walking up the stairs and feel a tap on your shoulder but there's nobody when you turn around- nothing to explain the hard shove against your back or why the handrail is slicked with oil. All the while, snickering can be heard from somewhere behind you, little shadows darting away in the periphery of your vision, just out of reach.
Somebody has it out for you, but be glad it's just little things and not... well.
Whether you're standing in the middle of the locker area or sitting up from under one of the classroom desks, the school feels a lot... brighter... than you remember in the last handful of years (years? somehow, it feels like years) that you've attended this school. Bright sunlight shining through the windows is almost nauseating to look at, as if on the cusp of a migraine, and words swim on textbook pages and is twice as difficult to understand. Maybe it's just back-to-school jitters, the nurse sympathizes if you visit the nurse's office, offering a mug of ginger tea to settle the stomach and a soft cot to lie down on for a few minutes, but break is over and there is so much to be excited for at school, especially the charity auction coming up in the next couple of days.
Donations are displayed in glass cases all around the auditorium, including items and services, a box of """cursed chalk""" that's surprisingly garnered a lot of interest, and a human body that unsurprisingly has not garnered much if at all. A skinny black cat can be seen lounging on top of the lattermost case, staring down at the students milling around the auditorium as they check their PDAs for merit points and murmur about it being too late and that they'll have to make do with what they have until the auction date on the 10th. More information about the auction can be found on the bulletin board, which also displays a new poster announcing an open seat in the student council in which all are encouraged to apply starting the 10th, and to run their campaigns until the 31st when an assembly will take place for approved candidates to debate.
Also updated on the bulletin board are the class rankings, current as of the start of the month, with class 1-B leading the pack and 2-C following close behind. With the weather as nice as it is, students of these two homerooms occasionally hold their classes outside in the courtyard this month, seated on the grass or on blankets around the wisteria tree as they balance chalkboard slates on their laps and listen to the lecture in the fresh air and warm sunlight. As long as they're with their teacher, characters in class 1-B and 2-C are able to exit into the courtyard this month, although if they stray too far out of the courtyard towards the pool area, their consciousness will start to fade until they leave the courtyard and black out completely.
For everybody regardless, there are classes to attend and quizzes to take and blood to pour out of your shoes because— uh?? You're in the middle of a quiz and pick up your eraser, but it's been replaced with one so dry and hard that all it does is smear the graphite and tear a hole in your paper. You get up from a long hour of class and nearly chip your teeth on the edge of the desk falling over because somebody's tied your ankle to the desk leg with quadruple-knotted twine. You're washing your hands in the bathroom and instead of liquid soap, the dispenser pours out silver glitter all over your hands and pants and shoes to coat for the rest of the month. You open your locker and are met with a face full of bees that burst out and causes everybody to evacuate the area until the janitor can coax them all outside. You're walking up the stairs and feel a tap on your shoulder but there's nobody when you turn around- nothing to explain the hard shove against your back or why the handrail is slicked with oil. All the while, snickering can be heard from somewhere behind you, little shadows darting away in the periphery of your vision, just out of reach.
Somebody has it out for you, but be glad it's just little things and not... well.
05/08 16:27 (open to all)
After school on the 8th, when Clamor is headed up the second floor stairwell to the clocktower, he'll find that the door doesn't push in easily, as if there were something blocking it. A harder push and he dislodges something heavy, dark red blood pouring out from the open door to soak through his shoes and those of anybody nearby as the world spins and pitches and falls apart.
The vertigo passes and you open your eyes. You're standing in an old schoolhouse with scorched walls and broken floorboards that creak as you walk through the halls, breathing air so cold it constricts your lungs and leaves in visible puffs. The body on the ground has turned wispy black, unmoving, while those around you— there were other students around you in the hallway, you swear, but aside from one or two, the rest have all turned into shadow, faceless and intangible as they move silently down the halls and through the walls. Two of them approach the body on the ground and lift it up by the armpits to drag away down the stairs towards the auditorium—- what's supposed to be the auditorium, but instead the doors open to reveal a gaping void, darkness as far as one can see as if nothing else exists past this door.
You were looking for a way out, weren't you? ...
The body is unceremoniously tossed into the void, never to be seen again, and with the creeping dread that comes with staring into the darkness for too long, you get the sense that the same will happen to you if you step past the threshold to nowhere. It's dark and quiet enough already in the rest of the school, with the lights off and the sky a perpetual dusk. This school evokes the same feeling of nostalgia as it always has, the same old building but so much older: books in the library prone to falling apart in your hands, all the food in the home economics room rotten and overgrown with mold, the wisteria tree in the courtyard gnarled and completely barren. But the water in the bathrooms and drinking fountains run clear and fresh, and in the mirrors hanging above the sinks you can see somebody else's face— you can see familiar people washing their hands or chatting with one another or smoking a joint or getting caught smoking a joint- you can see them but they can't see you, gazing through this portal to a normal high school life.
The glass feels warm when you place your palm against it. The glass tears and burns when you put your fist through it, painful enough to make you wince.
You open your eyes.
You're standing where you last remember before the world turned to darkness, floor sticky with blood but there is no body at your feet. Edgar? There is no student called Edgar Valden at this school, just like there is no Abel Nightroad or Makoto Naegi, their names not showing up anywhere on the class roster and their seats filled by another student that has always been part of the class. You're overthinking, or maybe you're just tired or hungry. Luckily for you, there is a lot of fresh meat stocked in the home economics room this month, thick rich slabs that cook like beef but taste like a mix of veal and pork and hope.
The vertigo passes and you open your eyes. You're standing in an old schoolhouse with scorched walls and broken floorboards that creak as you walk through the halls, breathing air so cold it constricts your lungs and leaves in visible puffs. The body on the ground has turned wispy black, unmoving, while those around you— there were other students around you in the hallway, you swear, but aside from one or two, the rest have all turned into shadow, faceless and intangible as they move silently down the halls and through the walls. Two of them approach the body on the ground and lift it up by the armpits to drag away down the stairs towards the auditorium—- what's supposed to be the auditorium, but instead the doors open to reveal a gaping void, darkness as far as one can see as if nothing else exists past this door.
You were looking for a way out, weren't you? ...
The body is unceremoniously tossed into the void, never to be seen again, and with the creeping dread that comes with staring into the darkness for too long, you get the sense that the same will happen to you if you step past the threshold to nowhere. It's dark and quiet enough already in the rest of the school, with the lights off and the sky a perpetual dusk. This school evokes the same feeling of nostalgia as it always has, the same old building but so much older: books in the library prone to falling apart in your hands, all the food in the home economics room rotten and overgrown with mold, the wisteria tree in the courtyard gnarled and completely barren. But the water in the bathrooms and drinking fountains run clear and fresh, and in the mirrors hanging above the sinks you can see somebody else's face— you can see familiar people washing their hands or chatting with one another or smoking a joint or getting caught smoking a joint- you can see them but they can't see you, gazing through this portal to a normal high school life.
The glass feels warm when you place your palm against it. The glass tears and burns when you put your fist through it, painful enough to make you wince.
You open your eyes.
You're standing where you last remember before the world turned to darkness, floor sticky with blood but there is no body at your feet. Edgar? There is no student called Edgar Valden at this school, just like there is no Abel Nightroad or Makoto Naegi, their names not showing up anywhere on the class roster and their seats filled by another student that has always been part of the class. You're overthinking, or maybe you're just tired or hungry. Luckily for you, there is a lot of fresh meat stocked in the home economics room this month, thick rich slabs that cook like beef but taste like a mix of veal and pork and hope.
OOC
- ✽ This event log doubles as a TDM, with new characters experiencing the recurring feeling of drifting in (school life) and out (canon life) of sleep up until they "open their eyes," after which they will have full awareness and come to their senses. Pre-established cr is possible to some extent, as a varying degree of familiarity may remain, but all characters will be strangers to one another unless they know each other in canon.
- ✽ A new closed prompt will go up on the 10th for auction results and body investigation, and on the 31st for the student council assembly.
- ✽ After the 8th, any blood spilled in the school will result in characters in the vicinity seeing its transformation into a dilapidated version of the same building. Nearby npcs turn into shadows, while nearby pcs are brought into the other world together. Finding a mirror and breaking it will return the character to where they originally were, as if no time had passed.
- ✽ The layout of the transformed school is exactly the same as the original, with inaccessible locations remaining inaccessible. The exception is the auditorium which has been replaced by a void, and fully stepping into the void will result in permadeath and a drop from the game. TDM characters may step into the void as their "exit" any time during the month, but if they are apped into the game, that death will not be considered canon.
- ✽ Applications are always open on a rolling basis. The player cap is currently set at 40, but will lowered to 30 in June.
ib, sdr2 everything spoilers
he probably didn't see anything, there was nothing, and yet, he feels empty coming to that conclusion as he stares in that direction as if waiting for the form to appear. it doesn't matter how much time he wastes looking, he's unable to find the origin of it, but when he takes a step forward with a gas mask in hand, he's always met with what seems to be crimson eyes staring in his direction. he notices them, they settle in the side of his peripherals almost like they're calling out to him, but when he turns to check...
...again.
again, they're gone. he doesn't understand why they continue to disappear from him, but there's some part of komaeda's that's comfortable with the idea of those eyes, almost like targets locked onto him. it feels like for once he can finally be content with who is by him to the point that it doesn't matter anymore — he opts out to follow them. even if he's unable to meet them face to face, he'll be able to figure out where they go as long as he keeps his eyes open. sadly, they sting from the gas, and komaeda's eyes water so much that he's unable to see. his free hand raises to wipe at his eyes, hoping to do away with the burning sensation, but it does nothing aside from blurring them further. when he finally opens his eyes, he finds the person he had been chasing after standing in front of a door to a specific room — )
...
( he inhales, not realizing the more he follows after that shadow, the worst it'll get for him to breathe. in the end, komaeda doesn't care. not when his eyes fall upon someone dressed in a suit-like attire, all black and even his hair matches as it flicks from side to side like smoke, and the way his eyes glow within the mist... ) If you're here... ( he's smiling, tiredly so, but thrilled in a way despite his circumstances. to him, he's excited to explain all he's done, hoping that it'd be enough to please the person before him, and perhaps finally be of use to him. that's all komaeda wants anyway, to gain his attention and have his entire being used for hope, and if he's here... ) that means hope... Hope is here, that means everything I've d —
( "this is all irrelevant." )
This...?
( "yes. that's the estimation i've come to."
and komaeda doesn't understand which part, but he forces himself to understand, trying to understand, and the moment he's ready to voice his thoughts — he walks into the room, no longer waiting for komaeda. it's always like this, it's obvious considering his existence is boring, literally meaningless to his goals. yet, he's unable to let go, there's no way that the ultimate will let go when hope is that close, and he follows after and in that room, he's met with someone else.
"you and komaeda-kun are here, while we're still stuck on jabberwock island... you're free of the killing game in that school, i think. you both got away... and left the rest of us to die."
it's enough to send a shiver down his spine, komaeda's eyes widening as part of him wants to take a step back — ah, there's no way...? his hands press against the inner doorframe beside him, and his fingers dig into the surface as he tries to keep himself stable. it's been such a long time since he's seen her appearance, and by just seeing her, knowing how it differs from the imagery of spikes stabbing through her body, blood pooling beneath her compared to what she has now. it's almost a slap in the face, one that komaeda's unable to make heads or tails of, but the urge to throw up is so close. his chest tightening as thoughts violently flash within his head — his youth, her company that kept everyone together with a smile and here she was stating things, scolding them — them.
them? who is... them? and, and... who?
as he looks around the room, he notices someone against the floor, knees to their chest, and in komaeda's mind — it's just like how it was on the ship. that person, it's — in his eyes — that's izuru kamukura, that's what his delusions make him think. in reality, hinata's suffering, and komaeda's unable to realize that as he drops down to his knees, and his breathing heavy as he crawls over to him. he reaches out to the male's shoulder, his already shaky hand grip around "kamukura's" arm to hold onto him, despite he knows he's already in the wrong for even touching him. he's looking through hinata, not even realizing how out of it he is, but he speaks slow with his difficulty breathing — )
...Please, please...
( that's not right, but he doesn't know that. he doesn't know that the person he's actually after is now positioned by the door as if they're ready to exit. his red eyes watching all three within the room, or perhaps he only torments komaeda, who knows — especially with the way komaeda turns his head to looks towards nanami's frame.
what is happening? )
There's still time... if you use me...
no subject
But he lifts his head, confused by what he's hearing.]
Use you...? Komaeda, I don't get what you're saying...
[Even if Hinata's moving at half-speed at best, he's still thinking of what he can say next to try and decipher what's happening. But in the end, the words he hears next don't come from himself, nor from Komaeda - and they make Hinata go very, very still.
"You always depend on him, but you refused to acknowledge the things Komaeda-kun desperately tried to say when he was sick... That's pretty cruel of you, isn't it, Hinata-kun?"]
No! [Hinata shoves his hands over his ears.] Not, that isn't...!
no subject
"boring."
there, a shiver runs down his spine, and despite that voice is coming from behind him, komaeda's far too caught up in his own head to make heads or tails of it all. it's odd though, he blames the gas for tampering with his senses considering he doesn't feel that strong sensation of talent around him. everything feels empty, unwanted and personally it's a pain to be in this position... )
Forgive me, I know trash like me shouldn't touch you —
( maybe komaeda's sick even now, maybe "nanami-san" is right, the one who speaks over komaeda, but directly to hinata. and yet, she causes him some hesitation, but he's unable to ignore it as he holds even tighter onto the person before him. his eyes glance up, the darkness of the room doesn't help his already blurred vision — )
I'm boring, I'm insignificant, but... ( with hinata's ears covered, komaeda's grip on his arm grows tighter as he tries to pull his hand down. it'd be no good if "izuru kamukura" couldn't hear him. ) does she mean it... can you depend on me...?
( there's a bit of worry in his voice, but there's also part of him waiting for the inevitable. )
no subject
I only care when you make a big deal out of it like this... Knock it off already.
[It's a moment that's lost to the passage of time, because all too quickly the ghosts of their past are driving Hinata to cover his ears.
He may not hear the first part of what Komaeda says, but he doesn't fight it when his hands are pulled down - and his eyes go wide, feels his heart skip.]
That's... I...
[He should've denied it, immediately. That's the only correct response, isn't it? And yet even more time stretches out before them, causing that window of opportunity to slip farther and farther away.
Of course Hinata doesn't depend on Komaeda. Just the the thought of it is absurd. Depending on him means trusting him, and there's absolutely no way he'd ever do that.
...He should've cast away the last bit of himself that would ever do that.]
I...
[Trusting Komaeda Nagito doesn't lead to anything but pain. Hinata should've learned that lesson well by now, and yet...]
I shouldn't... I know in my head it can't lead to anything good, but...
[It's impossible. His mind feels so stretched thin. In this situation, with his aching lungs and aching heart, it's impossible to hold things as close to the chest as he should. And Hinata is already feeling regret the moment it leaves his mouth.]
...there's part of me that always counts on you, even though I shouldn't.
no subject
that's what he thought until the other voices his opinion, and there's a moment where komaeda freezes, his eyes widening from his own confusion. )
...
( luckily for him, it's not like he can see hinata properly, and the grip that he has on the other's arm steadily begins to loosen. he manages to get himself to his knees, sitting back on his legs as he stares at his hand, almost as if he'd find answers in the palm — sadly there's nothing to help him. his fingers twitch, unsure what to make of words like that, because they don't sound... correct. he's not used to them — being relied on, being wanted, and other things like that. he doesn't even know if this is too good to be true, only because he won't lift his head up to see the other eye to eye.
...
...
...
maybe hinata should feel regret, instantly, because even though it appears komaeda has backed off — he lunges forward, grabbing the male's wrist yet again to pin him down. it's not a proper attempt considering hinata's pushed onto his side, but in komaeda's twisted perception of what's going on right now... he can't help his position, squinting down at the other. it's the shadows that cover his body that makes hinata look like him, but ... )
You wouldn't.
no subject
Oh hell he's actually going to kill me, isn't he.
The second thing is not unfamiliar, but he scolds himself for feeling it all the same - betrayal. He's known. He's known what Komaeda is capable of, he'd tried to warn both Ouma and Inaba, and yet... Hinata had always thought...
Somehow, in the piece of himself he should've cast away, he'd always thought Komaeda would never hurt him.]
Komaeda... [He closes his eyes when they start to burn. God forbid he actually cries. Hinata hates to cry in front of anyone, but he absolutely refuses to cry in front of Komaeda Nagito.] Stop it, let go of me...!
[He moves to pull his wrist back... and at that moment, he finally realizes just how weak he is, because he can't. For the first time, a real tendril of fear unfurls in his chest.
But Hinata is nothing if not defiant, so he opens his eyes to glare right at Komaeda. The last defense that he has.]
Who the hell do you think you are, anyway... to tell me how I feel...!
no subject
he can feel the way his wrist tugs, but remains under komaeda's grasp, and that's just another confused pang in his chest that settles uncomfortably. it's ironic though, given komaeda lack of empathy, he's much aware that feelings are never at play here, and that's why the last sentence from hinata's mouth crushes him. it's like a punch to the chest considering that's not... right. )
You wouldn't...
( say these things... is where he wants to start, but as this continues, certain aspects start to stand out to him. it makes his head hurt only a bit, and his grip on hinata's wrist loosens only because of the situation, but he does keep him pinned down in place. )
I'm boring, isn't that's what you think of me, so why...
( he mumbles to himself, but hinata can hear it as well, it's no secret or rather it is, that komaeda probably is having difficulty processing something. in his eyes, he sees that person — the black hair, the crimson eyes, but the expression of a glare speaks volumes more than before. emotional, is what komaeda's starting to think, and he smiles, laughing to himself as he thinks about it. there's no way that he would say that, besides komaeda knows if he ever gained that stroke of good luck, the opposite would be a disaster — who knows what would happen, what he'd lose, who would be the cost. he doesn't deserve it, and he shouldn't acknowledge it, so he parrots the same question back, his voice flat. )
...Who the hell are you?
no subject
But... he's confused, very quickly, and he's certain that he shows on his face.]
What... are you talking about? I've never called you boring once.
[Komaeda is a lot of things, but boring is the last word Hinata would ever use to describe him.
Before he can even contemplate whether or not Komaeda is losing it, the words that follow are punching him in the gut.
"Who the hell are you?"
Hinata has always wanted to become someone he could be proud of. He's wanted to do that with all his might, and he's wanted someone to acknowledge that person he will become.
Komaeda is someone who is capable of dangerous things. He's lied, sowed confusion, and broken Hinata's trust time and again. But... he's also always showed this blinding adoration for Hinata-
-except... he hasn't quite done that since they've been stuck in this school, has he? It was different when he crashed through the ceiling on top of him, things almost felt the same at that moment, if a little more tender from the strange memories Hinata couldn't shake off. But he has that strange hand he won't talk about, and he's done nothing but mock Hinata for forgetting his talent ever since. He's been acting different from the very start, hasn't he? And Hinata hasn't been willing to pay attention.
But... there's too much like him that's still Komaeda Nagito, isn't there?]
...I'm Hinata. Hinata Hajime. [His voice has dropped into something quiet. Sad, even if he can't admit it to himself. He isn't trying to pull away anymore.] Don't you know who I am?
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unfortunately for him, it's starting to dawn on him that his predicament isn't what he wants it to be — besides, there's so many instances here that shouldn't have happened, the answer had been there from the start. he doubts he would have been able to pin him down, he knows that hope would never be caught in a position like this, he knows that he wouldn't have seen chiaki here for a fragment of a moment before seeing him. it's the reality of it that dawns on him, and unfortunately, it's the truth of the matter that starts to hurt. )
...
( komaeda has never ran from his mistakes, rather, just lived his life while acting like none were there. he plays by his own rules, follows his own path as long as he can make hope out of it. this is one of those situations, rather than dealing with the problem, he accepted it as is, but there's only so much of it he can handle until it begins to weight on him, heavy. it's the name, the explanation that settles down every piece of confusion komaeda had thus far, and the name is enough to make his own hand shake, unlike his mechanical hand.
the name is enough to cause komaeda to chuckle because it's... the truth. he knows that very well now, and in his high he's slowly releasing the male's wrist. when he looks down at the other's face, those shadows seem to dissipate here and there, leaving open areas where komaeda can see beneath the lies in his head. brown hair here, one of his eyes properly exposed (but the one covered by red really drives it home, though he understands its not true), and telltale signs that this isn't exactly kamukura izuru then. )
...Hinata-kun.
( compared to his flat voice from before, this time as he speaks, there's a bit of warmth when he says his name. it's almost like he spoke like that to reassure him, or is komaeda trying to make himself realize his mistake? either way, his eyes look towards the floor, not wanting to meet with the other's any longer. )
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[Something in his chest unwinds.
For a moment, Hinata wants to cry for a different reason altogether, but he refuses to do that either.
As quickly as he thinks it, though, he pushes it from his mind; Komaeda had started this off pleading with him, and then he'd pinned Hinata to the ground. He can't trust yet. He can't take comfort.
He shouldn't. He never should, but especially not right now.
If he weren't so weak he could fight back, probably. It's still difficult to pull in breath without feeling like he's about to be sick, and the fact that his breathing has quickened from panicking isn't helping anything. There's nothing else Hinata can do, except lay here and accept whatever Komaeda may do.
Maybe he'll walk away again and leave him to die. Maybe he'll do the killing himself. Maybe he'll-
"Hey, can you hear me?"
No.
No, he won't do that.
Maybe Nanami's right. Maybe this is his punishment for all the things that he didn't want to acknowledge, in the hospital room or otherwise.
Maybe he deserves it.]
If you're going to do it... [He isn't proud of it, but his voice shakes as he tilts his head to the side. Throat bared, but he closes his eyes. He doesn't want to see it happen.] ...get it over with already. Waiting for it is worse than it actually happening.
[Although... He's never been killed before, so who can really say?]
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no, no. he wouldn't be like this.
for once, he finally hears him, listens to him, like he would do at one point of time when no one else would. komaeda actually enjoyed hearing hinata's musings, even if they meant nothing at all — he just liked being near him. it's these words that makes komaeda grow silent — )
Hey, ( hesitant, slow. ) ...do you hear yourself?
( would hinata say something so defeatist? it makes him wonder has the other grown that weak, and komaeda wonders what sort of hope stems from this. part of him is unable to comprehend wholly what the other means, how he requests komaeda to get it over with. even he's unable to believe that, but it doesn't stop his hands from settling along the curve of his neck — both cold, but the prosthetic is a different cool from komaeda's normal hand. )
Hinata-kun... would never let his hope diminish.
( not like that, never like this, he's too strong willed of a person to go down so easily — if he was... then komaeda wouldn't be where he is right now. ) Why... ( komaeda inhales, his chest tightening while the thumps of his heart rings loud in his ears, but there's no pressure he applies on hinata's neck — none whatsoever. ) ...has the determination in your eyes disappeared? ( despite them being closed now, he saw them moments before, and that weighs heavier for him. )
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...Nothing happens.
Nothing happens.
He doesn't die.
Hinata opens his eyes, confused. Maybe this is worse, actually.]
You're the one... always going on about hope, nobody else...
[Hinata can scarcely breathe already, but... He can't bring himself to push Komaeda's hands away.
The dagger he'd been expecting in his heart, metaphorically, isn't there. Maybe... Something that nearly broke doesn't have to.
Hinata wishes he could understand what's in Komaeda's eyes. It's familiar enough to give him the strength to speak.]
...You really don't get it, do you? [There's no teeth in his voice, even if there could have been.] The strength I have comes from our class. The ability to keep going, to not be afraid and help everyone... I'm able to keep my head up because of her.
[Hinata doesn't mean to say the words he says next aloud. It's only because of how weak he feels.
That's what he'll tell himself once all of this is over, at least.]
Because of you.
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...
( as much as he worries over hope, he finds himself growing quieter and quieter the more hinata presses on with his thoughts. some aspects are sensitive than others, and komaeda can't even laugh off how uncomfortable he feels as he speaks. is it because there's some truth in that, he's seen it, or what he's learned of hinata in that place — how the people around him were his motivation, how he never allowed his goals to be crushed because he always placed one foot forward. that's probably one of the reason komaeda likes him so much, the fact that despite not knowing his talent, he still remained proactive in his methods. he held so much emotion, and even then, he still... )
...
( this was a mistake, coming here was a mistake, and komaeda acknowledges that. slowly his fingers make their way from hinata's neck, and instead to cover his own mouth as he turns away to cough. he shouldn't have held his breath while anticipating the male's words, even now he wonders why does anything hinata says even matter anymore. he's too young to understand the truth, he's not the person komaeda met when he finally woke up. though, the komaeda in that simulation was still himself, and at that time, even when learning certain information he still cared...
it's that same feeling that makes komaeda pull away, and what does that mean? yeah, komaeda's turning away, his eyes glancing to one corner of the room — spying those red eyes, despite delusional — before crawling his way in direction of the room's exit. )
...If it's true, don't lay there waiting to die. ( is that all he has to say? ) For a class filled with hope... ( his breathing is slow, almost like he's tired. ) it'd be pathetic if you dragged them down...
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The words he never wants to believe in, yet is pulled to all the same... It makes some strength return to his heart, even if it doesn't bring any to his body.
No, what does that is Komaeda's cough, the weakness in his breath.
Get up.
Nanami stands there, mercifully silent, even if her harsh expression (for her, at least) is unchanging. A reminder of a hospital room and those painful words, even if she isn't saying them again.
Hajime, get the hell up!
He won't let Komaeda die. He promised.]
Komaeda-
[It takes everything Hinata has, but he rolls to his feet. He's shaky, unbalanced as the room feels like it's spinning, but he pushes himself through it and reaches out to grab Komaeda's sleeve.]
Is talking about that and running away... all you know how to do anymore...?
[He moves fast. Has to, because he doesn't know if this really is poisonous. Because he doesn't know if he'll have the strength to do it again.
With his free hand, he pulls his uniform jacket over his head - even if he has to let go of Komaeda for a moment, and for that second he really is scared he'll fall flat on his face - and presses the fabric against Komaeda's mouth. Not to smother, but trying to give him enough space to breathe through it.]
Don't lay there waiting to die? Fine. [His chest and stomach still hurt... but strangely, he almost feels like he could breathe again if the air wasn't potentially killing them.] Hold this to your mouth and let's go.
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why couldn't he just squeeze his throat, and end it there? is it because of the past that haunts him, that corpse of his feelings rotting heavily in his mind. despite the fact that hinata is talentless at the moment, he's still the same type of person — if he puts his mind to it, nothing gets in his way.
it's showing again, even if komaeda doesn't look at him, it's the fact that the other somehow made his way behind to cover his mouth that elicits a reaction out of him. his breath hitches, until he realizes what the other is doing — even though it's a helping hand, it brings back recent memories, his old sins dawning on him. he relaxes, trying to steady his breath, but there's something about this that doesn't sit well with him. his eyes glance towards hinata, looking to see if he's taking the same safety precaution as him. )
...If I didn't, you'd still be laying there... wallowing in your own pain...
( that's how komaeda found him, drowning in his own weakness. )
Asking... asking me to kill you.
( komaeda can't help but look back one last time, staring at the expression that remains on nanami's features. when hinata said for her, that's who he meant. his eyes remain fixated on the glow she emanates, and it's hard to turn his head. he wills it, looking towards hinata, and carelessly removing the fabric from his mouth, to place against hinata's instead. )
I'm not going anywhere with someone so hopeless! It feels... despairing...
( cough, cough!! )
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The moment Komaeda places the fabric on Hinata's mouth, he wrestles it off. He doesn't put it back on Komaeda's mouth just yet, but he does push it towards him.]
What the hell are you even doing?! You'll talk a big about having hope, but suddenly you don't seem to have any when you might be saved? Give me a break!
[He holds both of Komaeda's wrists - one metal cold, one Komaeda-cold. But they're his. He grips them hard.]
I would have died... I could have died. I could have wanted to, but your words brought me back... Not even just here, but those nights back on the island, when I didn't even want to move anymore. Because you always show us the right way in the end, even if it's so hard to understand it... to understand you... Because you care about us, even if it's screwed up and twisted... Because you're always so damn frustrating, no matter how hard I try to figure you out...
[He doesn't want to see the life leaving Komaeda again. Once was enough.]
If it's so despairing, then face it head on! If I don't have hope, then tell me about it as you always have! If I don't understand, try to reach me until the very end! If I want to die, then give me a reason to live!
[Hinata doesn't even realize how much strength is in his voice until he hears how loudly he's yelling, as if from a distance.]
But if you think... that I'll let you sit there in this gas making us sick for even another a second while you throw a fit... I'll put you on my back and drag you out of hell itself.
[He doesn't want to have any more regrets.
He doesn't want to keep running away from the things that hurt him.
He doesn't want to feel pain every time he thinks of Komaeda Nagito.]
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in the end, hinata hajime's still a transfer student who doesn't know the truth behind his capabilities. even without that knowledge, he still manages an attempt to make komaeda see his way, and it's that bubbling hope that causes him to sigh — his stomach turns uncomfortably from the fog, but the obsessive excitement he gains from seeing a person's hope is familiar. to see hinata's... is it wrong to say it's something he's missed? )
...There you are. ( a slow breath. ) Hinata-kun...
( he tugs his human arm free from hinata's grasp, and instinctively places it on the other's chest, above his head as if searching for how steady his heartbeats are. he sighs, almost tired as he stares at the other, and despite the mist doing its job to skew their vision, and yet, komaeda's vision does shift to the side every so often as if he sees someone — in the end, it does focus back on hinata. )
You really can't do anything right without me, can you...
( he tries to laugh, but it's a little difficult given the circumstances, and instead exchanged with a hoarse cough. of course, it's one after the other, until his fingers curl into the fabric of hinata's shirt. there's a weakness in his legs, his knees buckling forward as he leans into the other for support. he doesn't mean to do that, but the lightheadedness he feels from the gas is overwhelming, and while he tries to stand properly, the movement is enough to stir up something inside of him. rather than covering his mouth, he turns his head to the side to do something very, very, very familiar to hinata, and that's to throw up right then and there.
he should know the routine by now that komaeda's about to fall over. :) )
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The way Komaeda looks at him and puts his hand on him, the way he says "there you are" and Hinata's name - it's bad considering where Komaeda's hand is, but Hinata can feel his heart go a little bit faster.
Unfair... You're so unfair...
All of these vulnerable things he's said, exposing so much of his heart for Komaeda to see. He knows he can't take any of it back. Isn't even sure if he wants to.
Making me feel like this... is so unfair...
It reminds him of before, but it's different. Almost unmistakably - but not the awful unmistakable, the way Komaeda had made him wonder if he could ever trust again. It's new, and that's a little scary, but... It's finally a new that doesn't hurt.
Or has it always been there... and it's just another thing he didn't allow himself to see until now?
How am I supposed to keep resenting you... if you look at me in such a way?
As with most things that happen with Komaeda, Hinata isn't given much time to process it.
He'd thought he'd been afraid on the floor with Komaeda's hands at his throat, but it's nothing like the fear that pierces his chest when Komaeda is quite suddenly sick and starts to sway afterwards.]
Komaeda-!
[Once again, he reacts faster than anticipated, and lunges towards Komaeda before he can hit the floor. Hinata doesn't even realizing he himself is the one saying "no no no-" under his breath until the only other thing in his ears is Komaeda's labored breathing.
He can't get sick here. Komaeda can't get sick here, Tsumiki isn't here, they don't have a hospital to treat him in, he-]
Idiot, you stupid bastard- [He presses the jacket insistently against his mouth, refusing any other arguments this time. Hinata might feel sick to his stomach, but if Komaeda wasn't lying to him... Well, even if he was, Hinata already has enough proof from the Despair Disease that his health is poorer than probably anyone else he knows.] Y-you... You can't get sick here like that again, Tsumiki isn't here... So don't you dare die.
[He pulls Komaeda's arm over his shoulder and starts moving to the nearest door, inhales hard through his nose and tells himself that if it sounds wet it's only because he's starting to get pretty nauseous too. Nothing else.]
If you die after you said something like that to me, I'll never forgive you.
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well, there's no time to think about that when that constant burning sensation makes his throat tingle, and despite throwing up on the floor — he still feels uneasy. when he looks at it out the corner of his eye, despite his vision blurry, the color still has the unusual tone — just like last time. hinata's voice goes in and out, but komaeda guesses the other is complaining — he thinks, the concern in his words isn't easy to discern between his frustration? he doesn't know. )
...
( with his body weak, he can't help it when his fingers dig into the other's clothes, latching onto him so that he doesn't fall. his response to his words are to laugh, because he doesn't know what's said, but it hurts to do so, and his other hand raises to cover his mouth. if he gives his throat too much attention, he thinks he might as well upset his stomach to throw up again, so it's best to prevent it — but he forgets that hinata has already pressed the fabric to him, and his prosthetic hand unknowingly settles over hinata's own. it lacks heat, but there is a gentle touch there despite being an arm that isn't really part of komaeda's body, and while he's unable to feel the male's warmth, he keeps his hand there.
he can't talk properly, and he doubts hinata would let him.
"if you die after you said something like that to me, i'll never forgive you."
if he could talk properly, he'd point out isn't that hinata's responsibility to make sure he doesn't die? he doesn't need the other taking care of him in that manner, komaeda's able to watch over himself. unfortunately, he's too prone to wanting to die himself so even he... and then it hits him. hinata would never forgive him? why does he talk like he's forgiven komaeda already? he doesn't know the things he's done, or what he'll do... and even now within the school, from all of his rejections towards hinata's attempts... he still accepts him?
komaeda's grip tightens on hinata's shoulder with that sort of realization dawning on him — hinata still hasn't changed, aside from from his free emotions, he's still the same. sadly, he wishes it gave him more energy so he didn't have to lean on hinata as they walk towards the exit of the room, but he'll apologize after if he manages to make it out. )
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Move.
Keep moving.
He has to, because Komaeda is depending on him now.
There's only one brief thing that he stops for. It's when the voice he hasn't heard in a while speaks up again.
"After you bring Komaeda-kun to safety... will you leave him alone again?"]
...No. Not anymore. [Hinata only allows himself a brief pause before he speaks, very softly, without turning around.] ...Bye, Nanami.
[Out in the hall, he can't tell if it's better or worse, but he has enough willpower to keep moving and carry Komaeda with him. He feels dizzy in snatches still, but determination makes his head somewhat clear even if his body doesn't respond as well. Besides... He told Komaeda he'd put him on his back and carry him out, didn't he? So he can't give up now.
Even if his mind is working at half-speed, he kind of remembers learning about gases. Something about them rising and falling... But he doesn't know if this is the kind of gas that would rise or fall...
He has to make a calculated guess and risk failure. He won't accept the alternative.]
Komaeda... I know it's asking a lot. But we're going upstairs to try and get to some clearer air. [Hinata says it with as much confidence as he can squeeze into the words. He has to believe in them.] We'll... go up to the clock tower.
[Just saying the place makes anxiety squeeze at his chest like a vice. It takes him forever to get anywhere in this school because of those memories... but he can't afford to let that happen now.]
Try... to hang on just a little bit longer, okay?
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even within his own sickness, he slips his fingers around hinata's hand, and slowly he attempts to pull him away from his mouth so he can speak properly. it's a mistake, and his voice sounds tired if anything. )
Hinata-kun... W... What are you doing...?
( they both know that he and stairs aren't the best mix, and if anything, carrying someone else while he's already at a disadvantage seems unfair. it'd test his hope to see how far he gets, but even komaeda's not at his best, and if he can't do this on his own, then what's the point? besides, there's no point in both of them falling down the stairs if hinata takes a misstep, and so komaeda's going to attempt to pull himself off the other. no matter how weak and shaky his legs are, they've been through worse. )
...You have to go up alone.
( it's hard to say, not like he's against the idea of it, but knowing komaeda's luck, and knowing that he has a switchblade on his person right now. there's something gnawing at his consciousness that now isn't the best of all times. ) If... If you're afraid of what was said, then it's my choice... isn't it? ( whether he's left behind or worse, but implanting the fear in hinata's mind isn't his intention at all, instead, he's looking towards a more hopeful arrangement between them. ) Whether I'm...
( left or not... and even that sounds heavy on him to the point he can't say it aloud. )
I suggest you walk... and gather your bearings to prepare... I'll use the wall.
( and he's difficult as always, but at least he's going along. )
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[It isn't fine.]
We'll both be fine.
[He'll make sure it's fine.]
But if I have to go up alone... then you have to go first. I'll knock you down and drag you up if you won't.
[Hinata knows exactly how empty that must sound; he's sure that as observant as Komaeda is, he could feel him shaking as they made their way over, and if not he'll probably be able to see Hinata trembling right now. But the hard set, the conviction, doesn't leave his face for even a second.]
If... you're that determined to get away from me, then fine. [Even if Komaeda isn't finishing his sentences, he can put it together well enough.] But not before I make sure you're okay.
[The likelihood of it happening isn't something that Hinata is up to calculating right now, but he can still see the possibility of it lingering in his mind's eye - Komaeda staying behind, or getting out of his sight, and then... If something happened, Hinata would never know until it's too late...
No. He can't let that happen, either.]
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( does him saying that change anything at all, does it reassure whatever worries the other may have in his heart? well, if he can even show his heart to someone like komaeda, which the other wouldn't complain — it's understandable. all that conviction, his determination, and even if some of his statements are matter-of-fact, komaeda shakes his head. when the other doubted himself, he did do his best in trying to cheer him up, and even now within these deadly circumstances where every word feels like his last, komaeda speaks. )
It'll be no good if you hate yourself over this... who would you be able to save like that?
( he asks, also curious about the answer. )
Besides, you have... other things to worry about.
( like his poor memory, he doesn't need to sit there and beat himself up on whether it's his fault that komaeda died, or if he had been more aware of his surroundings. those days have came and gone, and there's no need trying to prevent the inevitable — there was a time komaeda died, there was a time where the other was too late. even if those were instances in the simulation, they still stand true to komaeda's memory — and while he's unable to tell him that, it'll be truths that komaeda keeps within his mind vividly.
hinata already played a hand in killing him, and even though he didn't throw the final blow... how would he feel if he knew that? )
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It makes something tense in Hinata relax. There had been that one part of him that couldn't relax, that feared the worst - because he still can't make himself trust all the way. The scarring of that is too deep.
But it's the first time in a very long time that he's wanted to.]
...Maybe you're right. Maybe I really wouldn't be able to save anyone like that, but... But even so-
[I'm afraid of you. I'm afraid for you.
He doesn't finish his thought.
Trusting someone... means taking a chance, right? And it's scary, to do that, but don't you need to sometimes? Isn't that such an important part of breaking down the barriers that let you reach someone and understand them?
I want to understand you.]
...No. If you promise you won't leave, then that's enough. If you do... then I can push past everything else. [Hinata takes hold of the banister, eyes trained forward as his voice becomes a little quieter.] If you don't want to give me anything else to worry about... promise you'll stay with me, for just a little bit longer.
[Trusting means taking a step forward, even when you aren't sure what will happen.
So Hinata doesn't wait for any other answer. He doesn't look away as he steps up onto the staircase.
The result almost feels instantaneous compared to normal - he can feel the phantom pain of the wood piercing through his flesh, quickly inhaling a sharp, shaky breath.
Crap. Crap crap crap crap.
He can't do this it's impossible how can he do this-
Hinata has to do this. There's no time for him to be overwhelmed right now.
He grits his teeth.
...Who can I save, Komaeda?
And he takes a step.
I'll save myself.
And another.
I'll save you.]
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( when it comes to that reassurance, komaeda's unable to give that, because what are those promises aside from empty. if his life was different, he'd be willing to take that without a second thought, find himself dwelling in some unknown normalcy between friends — sadly, he can't. he allows that request to hang heavy in the air, and isn't it convenient that there's gas which helps nullify any other speech at times. or is this his sickness getting in the way of accepting? his response is to cough, keeping himself up by using the wall nearby as his eyes water from the way they sting, but he does his best in trying to blink the tears away.
he can't stop thinking about hinata's words, wondering if he really means it — does komaeda have that much power over his thoughts? his worries? his concerns? there's no way that's how he works, and he can't help but glance off to the side wondering. what if his mouth spoke the words to agree with him, what would their life be like then? it'd be short-lived, for he did say for a little bit longer. he shouldn't hold onto something he can't have, and that's why he keeps a distance, he knows because of his luck — )
...
( his mouth parts, and as soon as he's ready to speak, he hears the way the other's hand grips the banister, and his eyes fly there first. he watches to see if he shakes, he notices the way it seems like a battle within itself as he takes his first step, and then the second step. it's hard to tell if it's the trauma or the sickness that they feel, but it all looks the same to komaeda. with a step forward, komaeda follows suit with gripping the rail, and his prosthetic hand presses against the youth's back in a reminder that he's behind him. luckily it's not komaeda's other, because he's not sure if he'd be trembling if he touched him with his normal hand — he doesn't know how much he'd give away. )
Hinata-kun...
( i'm here, behind you. his voice soft, and if it's not enough to bring hinata out of his thoughts, then perhaps the unsteady railing due to komaeda's luck will. c: )
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