[Placed in that office chair, Komaeda sinks into it as if he's a limp doll. His head rolls to one side, his arms—no, just his left arm—rests bonelessly in his lap as Hinata continues to fuss over him. On some level, he's happy.

Despite not knowing what happened after he died in the simulation, they made it out, and he knows that only Hinata would be able to pull it off. Or was it Kamukura? Was Kamukura still inside of Hinata, even now? He raises his tearful gaze to meet the one that stares down at him with worry creasing its brow. Komaeda notices only then that Hinata's eyes are mismatched.]

What's with that...? [The words are a soft huff of mocking laughter, and despite the tears that still roll down his cheeks and cling to his long lashes, Komaeda forces a weak smile across his face.] Getting so worked up over the guy who tried to kill you... you really are an idiot, Hajime.

[Still, his good hand curls into the fabric of Hinata's shirt with a grip that refuses to let go. This warmth, this attention. Is it okay to be selfish? Is it okay to use it to fight that despair that's toiling away within him? It's with that grip that Komaeda pulls himself forward and smears his face across Hinata's shoulder, wiping his tears off with the thin cotton.]

Stop making that face, Hajime... If you don't I...

[He'll what? Get the wrong idea? He closes his eyes, the words, just barely on the tip of his tongue... Komaeda swallows them down, and pats his hand against that firm, supportive shoulder.]

...Everyone's going to make fun of you, Mr. Reserve Course.