[Komaeda knows that it's merely phrasing, that given the context of their conversation, he would be silly to hope for anything more. Yet, it's in this moment where he remembers his confession in the simulation so vividly—and how he had chickened out at the last second to frame his words of love in a way where Hinata might not be able to know his true intentions.
He was coaxed then by the same feeling now: his stomach, flipping and twisting into nervous knots as he watches the lines of the other's face and how he turns his gaze away with his own nerves. It would be too forward to touch Hinata—no, his heart probably wouldn't be able to handle it—even if he really wants to just take that large hand in his own, and give it a reassuring squeeze.]
Would it be too greedy to say that I want to know every thing? [Komaeda's voice is soft once more, and he turns so that they're shoulder to shoulder. His good hand finds a fold on the sheer curtain, and it flutters the length of it between his fingers as he fidgets.] The good things, the bad things... your favorite things to eat, and your favorite things to see... what you hate, what you love... I want to know them all.
[Thank god, he thinks, for the curtain shielding their faces from the moonlight once more. He can feel the way his cheeks burn red, all the way to the cusps of his ears.]
I want you to know about me, too, Hajime. Even if my life is mostly sad stories... is it okay if I share them all with you? Would you even believe me... if I did?
[Then, is now the time to tell him? ...Hajime's throat tightens at the thought. What he wants to say, what he's wanted to say for a while, what he thinks he should tell Nagito now, while they have this time together... it's not going to be easy to say.
If he was still Kamukura... no. Kamukura wouldn't even have the feelings that Hajime has now, would he. Hajime shouldn't think in terms of what Kamukura would do. He isn't Izuru Kamukura anymore. He's... his own self. Hajime Hinata. He has aspirations, he dreams, he has dreams, and feelings, as well, feelings of regret, remorse, and- and love, and he's nervous, and he's more human than Kamukura, right?
Hajime's words are slow to come, and at first they're not exactly the words he wants to say. But they're audible enough, and gradually the silence dividing him from Nagito fades away.]
I... Well, there's a lot. I wouldn't really know where to begin.
[When Nagito says he wants to know every thing, does he really mean that? Or is it one of those things that people say, just a generalization that doesn't mean anything? The curtain shimmers between Nagito's fingers, and the want to reach out and intertwine their hands is aching inside Hajime's chest.
The good things, the bad things, his... favorite things to eat? And-- and see? What he hates, and what he loves? Hajime's breath catches in his throat at the sound of that word. It's low and soft in Nagito's voice, the way it had been when Nagito first said it, back in the simulation. Hajime's reaction now is hardly any different than it was then - his heart is thudding so loudly, it's hurting his ears.]
But... you know, there is something I want to tell you, something that is important to me, and if you're happy to listen, then I probably shouldn't put it off any longer. So, um.
[God, it's like Hajime's ribcage is tightening. No, like every part of him is tightening, or being pulled taut, he's so nervous, dammit.]
...S-Sorry, this is kind of hard to say. [He takes in a breath, as if to encourage himself, then lets it out forcefully, squeezing his fists.] Nagito, I...
I want to know more about you, too. Anything you want to share with me, I'll listen to it, gladly. Even if it takes me some time to believe it all, and even if it's nearly impossible to believe, I still want to try. I want to understand you better, Nagito.
[Hajime's stare has been averted all this time. He's been talking at the curtain. But now he pauses, tries to turn and face Nagito, to meet his gaze, if Nagito's even gazing. If Hajime's really going to say the next part, he wants to look Nagito in the eye when he says it. What he's about to say, he'll only be able to say once. He doesn't want to screw this up - he wants to do it right.]
When I said I cared about you, I meant it. [Is that clear enough? Will Nagito know what he means by that? What if he doesn't? No, Hajime should just come out and say it. 'What he loves', huh?]
Actually, Nagito, I...
[He can say it, right? Nagito's used this word before, so it shouldn't be weird if Hajime uses it now. There really isn't any other way to say it. He swallows, his gaze still connected to Nagito's. He can say it.]
[Seeing Hinata nervous isn't a rare sight in the slightest, in fact, it almost feels more normal than when he's confident... or assertive. It reminds Komaeda that this truly is the Hinata he's come to know and care for; but with the way he fumbles his words, and how his tongue seems to weighted in his mouth, slowly Komaeda starts to feel nervous too. What sort of admission has this brevity? What could be so important that it can't wait until when he isn't as fatigued?
His heart thunders in his breast—so hard it feels like it might burst through his ribs. For a moment, he almost feels sick. Like vertigo is running him over and the blood that's rushing through his veins will burn him from the inside out. Still, regardless of the thoughts that race through his mind, Komaeda retains his gentle smile. Whether it's good or bad, he'll accept it.
Then those words reach his ears, trembling with nerves, and it's like time has stopped. His heart's no longer racing, rather, it's dropped down into the pit of his stomach, where it's doing backflips. He hasn't realized the way his fingers have curled into the curtain, gripping it so tightly that the rod above creaks beneath the sudden strain.]
If this is a joke... it's a cruel one.
[The words escape his lips before he even has a chance to think about them, because he's too distracted with keeping himself from crying. His face feels hot. His eyes sting. He pulls the curtain between them, hiding himself from Hinata.]
You have to tell me if this is a joke, Hajime, otherwise... I'll—
[He'll what? His own voice is trembling. He doesn't want to believe, or more like, he can't believe it. How could Hinata love him? After everything he's done? Even before, when he found out Hinata was just some talentless reserve course student with a manufactured talent... he was so angry with himself for caring for him the way he did. And now... can he really hope for those returned feelings?]
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He was coaxed then by the same feeling now: his stomach, flipping and twisting into nervous knots as he watches the lines of the other's face and how he turns his gaze away with his own nerves. It would be too forward to touch Hinata—no, his heart probably wouldn't be able to handle it—even if he really wants to just take that large hand in his own, and give it a reassuring squeeze.]
Would it be too greedy to say that I want to know every thing? [Komaeda's voice is soft once more, and he turns so that they're shoulder to shoulder. His good hand finds a fold on the sheer curtain, and it flutters the length of it between his fingers as he fidgets.] The good things, the bad things... your favorite things to eat, and your favorite things to see... what you hate, what you love... I want to know them all.
[Thank god, he thinks, for the curtain shielding their faces from the moonlight once more. He can feel the way his cheeks burn red, all the way to the cusps of his ears.]
I want you to know about me, too, Hajime. Even if my life is mostly sad stories... is it okay if I share them all with you? Would you even believe me... if I did?
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If he was still Kamukura... no. Kamukura wouldn't even have the feelings that Hajime has now, would he. Hajime shouldn't think in terms of what Kamukura would do. He isn't Izuru Kamukura anymore. He's... his own self. Hajime Hinata. He has aspirations, he dreams, he has dreams, and feelings, as well, feelings of regret, remorse, and- and love, and he's nervous, and he's more human than Kamukura, right?
Hajime's words are slow to come, and at first they're not exactly the words he wants to say. But they're audible enough, and gradually the silence dividing him from Nagito fades away.]
I... Well, there's a lot. I wouldn't really know where to begin.
[When Nagito says he wants to know every thing, does he really mean that? Or is it one of those things that people say, just a generalization that doesn't mean anything? The curtain shimmers between Nagito's fingers, and the want to reach out and intertwine their hands is aching inside Hajime's chest.
The good things, the bad things, his... favorite things to eat? And-- and see? What he hates, and what he loves? Hajime's breath catches in his throat at the sound of that word. It's low and soft in Nagito's voice, the way it had been when Nagito first said it, back in the simulation. Hajime's reaction now is hardly any different than it was then - his heart is thudding so loudly, it's hurting his ears.]
But... you know, there is something I want to tell you, something that is important to me, and if you're happy to listen, then I probably shouldn't put it off any longer. So, um.
[God, it's like Hajime's ribcage is tightening. No, like every part of him is tightening, or being pulled taut, he's so nervous, dammit.]
...S-Sorry, this is kind of hard to say. [He takes in a breath, as if to encourage himself, then lets it out forcefully, squeezing his fists.] Nagito, I...
I want to know more about you, too. Anything you want to share with me, I'll listen to it, gladly. Even if it takes me some time to believe it all, and even if it's nearly impossible to believe, I still want to try. I want to understand you better, Nagito.
[Hajime's stare has been averted all this time. He's been talking at the curtain. But now he pauses, tries to turn and face Nagito, to meet his gaze, if Nagito's even gazing. If Hajime's really going to say the next part, he wants to look Nagito in the eye when he says it. What he's about to say, he'll only be able to say once. He doesn't want to screw this up - he wants to do it right.]
When I said I cared about you, I meant it. [Is that clear enough? Will Nagito know what he means by that? What if he doesn't? No, Hajime should just come out and say it. 'What he loves', huh?]
Actually, Nagito, I...
[He can say it, right? Nagito's used this word before, so it shouldn't be weird if Hajime uses it now. There really isn't any other way to say it. He swallows, his gaze still connected to Nagito's. He can say it.]
I think I might be in love with you.
no subject
His heart thunders in his breast—so hard it feels like it might burst through his ribs. For a moment, he almost feels sick. Like vertigo is running him over and the blood that's rushing through his veins will burn him from the inside out. Still, regardless of the thoughts that race through his mind, Komaeda retains his gentle smile. Whether it's good or bad, he'll accept it.
Then those words reach his ears, trembling with nerves, and it's like time has stopped. His heart's no longer racing, rather, it's dropped down into the pit of his stomach, where it's doing backflips. He hasn't realized the way his fingers have curled into the curtain, gripping it so tightly that the rod above creaks beneath the sudden strain.]
If this is a joke... it's a cruel one.
[The words escape his lips before he even has a chance to think about them, because he's too distracted with keeping himself from crying. His face feels hot. His eyes sting. He pulls the curtain between them, hiding himself from Hinata.]
You have to tell me if this is a joke, Hajime, otherwise... I'll—
[He'll what? His own voice is trembling. He doesn't want to believe, or more like, he can't believe it. How could Hinata love him? After everything he's done? Even before, when he found out Hinata was just some talentless reserve course student with a manufactured talent... he was so angry with himself for caring for him the way he did. And now... can he really hope for those returned feelings?]
I won't forgive you if you're lying to me.