Work Text:
Hajime Hinata was the autumn breeze. He was cool, collected, calming. His lips tasted like pumpkin pie, and he smelt like a latte. His smile was soft and welcoming, like a hug hidden behind his mouth. His voice was like being cuddled by the fireplace, so smooth and warm. Hajime was warm. Warm and soft, like an autumns scented teddy bear. He was addicting.
Chiaki Nanami was vanilla icing. Everything about her was sweet and happy. Her smile was so very light, and it was breathtaking. She smelt of soap and vanilla, such a fitting smell for such a perfect girl. Her hand was soft and warm, like a cookie fresh out of the oven. Her giggle was quick and pure, one to warm any heart who heard it.
Nagito Komaeda saw and felt all of these things. Truly, they were perfect. He couldn’t believe two perfect people would ever be with someone like him. Someone worthless, someone disgusting.
Yet, every morning he was greeted with autumn lips and a vanilla smile.
And God, it meant everything to him.
If only two things could matter, it would be Hajime Hinata and Chiaki Nanami. They were his hope.
His only hope.
He needed them, and yet...he didn’t deserve them. He deserved to rot, to starve, to die.
And yet every night he was greeted with autumn and vanilla scents rocking him to sleep in the dark of his bedroom, their warm bodies heating him up like the worlds best heated blanket.
They were addicting. Like a drug. Like a sweet sugar pill. He just couldn’t ever get enough.
They had walked in at a bad time. He was only punishing himself for being so awful, they weren’t supposed to know. It wasn’t hurting anyone except for him, so he decided to keep it that way. He drew pink lines into his wrists and forearms with a sharp blade he stole the kitchen.
It felt good, the way the blood escaped and trickled out of the wound. The sting made him feel good. Like it was the only thing that he really deserved.
He was addicted to the knife, too.
But, they had walked in.
They were concerned, Nagito wouldn’t come out of his room. He told them not to worry, but he had made a mistake. He forgot to lock the door. Chiaki and Hajime saw Nagito on the bed, pink bloody marks covering his arms.
He felt panic rise within him, were they gonna hate him?
He apologized, he put the knife down, he began to cry.
They weren’t mad, though.
They hugged him.
The smell of autumn and vanilla overpowered the smell of blood.
Chiaki left the room to go get some stuff to clean up to self inflicted wounds.
Nagito apologized again. He made them worry for something as stupid as him.
Hajime grabbed his hand. It was okay.
They disinfected his arms. Nagito liked the way it hurt.
They wrapped his arm up in bandages.
Broken, wounded.
Chiaki told him everything was gonna be okay, with a soft vanilla smile.
Hajime told him that he loved him, with a warm autumn kiss.