[Hajime rolls his eyes a little where Nagito can't see, but not out of annoyance or irritation. He's never liked hearing Nagito put himself down, but right now, he's almost - weirdly - relieved to hear it. Nagito still sounds like himself, still is himself - he's still Nagito, still definitely the Nagito who Hajime met on Jabberwock Island, the Nagito who Hajime became... well, not exactly friends with, or close to, but...
Whatever he and Nagito did become during their time in the simulation, Hajime can only hope it'll translate well into the real world. Maybe it'll even strengthen from here on? If he and Nagito can get even closer from here onward, then... Hajime's chest surges at the thought.
--Or maybe it's-- seizing?
Because when he glances at Nagito, he sees that-- that Nagito is--
Okay, this is not good. This is seriously not... Thinking that Nagito's just overwhelmed by the light and sound (in the way Mahiru and Mikan were - they also came out of their pods in tears), Hajime half-walks, half-carries him to one of the chairs beside the monitors. It's a swivel chair on wheels, so it rolls and turns a little as he eases Nagito into it. Not wanting Nagito to be any more over-stimulated than he already is, Hajime grips the armrest of the chair, keeping it as still as he can.
The blue light of the monitor gleams along the side of Nagito's face, along the wet line left by the first few tears. Not looking away from Nagito, Hajime's reaching across the desktop for the box of tissues someone silently left him a few days ago.
But there's nothing sticking out of the box that he can grab, and putting a hand through the plastic opening, his fingers touch only cardboard. Surprised, he glances at the tissue box. When did the tissues run out...? He glances back at Nagito.]
Sorry, I don't have... [He trails off. What did Nagito just say?] Hey. Nagito. Don't... don't talk like that. As if I-- as if we'd just leave you behind. You're-- [Hajime creases his brow. He can handle hearing Nagito pick on himself, but this, he's not going to tolerate, or even listen to.] You're not worth anything less than anyone else is, all right? So there's no way we'd ever just give up on you. That's-- I, I can't believe you'd even think that...!
[But it's like Nagito wanted them to give up on him. The tears won't stop. ...For a moment, and not for the first time, Hajime regrets that he and Nagito aren't closer - because if they were, the lack of tissues wouldn't be a problem. Hajime could just take his hands to the sides of Nagito's face, and smooth the tears away himself.
But they're not so close that Hajime can do that. So Hajime keeps one hand on the armrest of the chair, and the other on the edge of the desk.]
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Whatever he and Nagito did become during their time in the simulation, Hajime can only hope it'll translate well into the real world. Maybe it'll even strengthen from here on? If he and Nagito can get even closer from here onward, then... Hajime's chest surges at the thought.
--Or maybe it's-- seizing?
Because when he glances at Nagito, he sees that-- that Nagito is--
Okay, this is not good. This is seriously not... Thinking that Nagito's just overwhelmed by the light and sound (in the way Mahiru and Mikan were - they also came out of their pods in tears), Hajime half-walks, half-carries him to one of the chairs beside the monitors. It's a swivel chair on wheels, so it rolls and turns a little as he eases Nagito into it. Not wanting Nagito to be any more over-stimulated than he already is, Hajime grips the armrest of the chair, keeping it as still as he can.
The blue light of the monitor gleams along the side of Nagito's face, along the wet line left by the first few tears. Not looking away from Nagito, Hajime's reaching across the desktop for the box of tissues someone silently left him a few days ago.
But there's nothing sticking out of the box that he can grab, and putting a hand through the plastic opening, his fingers touch only cardboard. Surprised, he glances at the tissue box. When did the tissues run out...? He glances back at Nagito.]
Sorry, I don't have... [He trails off. What did Nagito just say?] Hey. Nagito. Don't... don't talk like that. As if I-- as if we'd just leave you behind. You're-- [Hajime creases his brow. He can handle hearing Nagito pick on himself, but this, he's not going to tolerate, or even listen to.] You're not worth anything less than anyone else is, all right? So there's no way we'd ever just give up on you. That's-- I, I can't believe you'd even think that...!
[But it's like Nagito wanted them to give up on him. The tears won't stop. ...For a moment, and not for the first time, Hajime regrets that he and Nagito aren't closer - because if they were, the lack of tissues wouldn't be a problem. Hajime could just take his hands to the sides of Nagito's face, and smooth the tears away himself.
But they're not so close that Hajime can do that. So Hajime keeps one hand on the armrest of the chair, and the other on the edge of the desk.]