* 𝙝𝙤𝙥𝙚 / 𝙛𝙖𝙡𝙨𝙚 .

     as  soon  as  the  song  changed  tempo,  hajime  noticed  that  the  number  of  his  peers  that  weren’t  paired  up  to  dance  were  dwindling.  hiyoko  was  on  stage,  dancing  along  to  ibuki’s  slow  and  sensual  guitar.  akane  and  nekomaru  looked  more  like  they  were  fighting  than  dancing.  and  hajime  found  himself  standing  next  to  fuyuhiko,  unsure  of  how  the  super  high  school  level  yakuza  would  accept  his  invitation.  granted,  hajime  didn’t  know  how  to  ask  in  the  first  place  and  awkwardly  brought  up  conversation  about  the  music  instead.

A sort of sheepish smile worked its way onto Nagito’s face when Hajime recalled that particular memory. “Aha, I remember that. What a first impression that was. Thank goodness for my luck, huh?”

What a first impression indeed. He remembered feeling a lot of things in that moment as his gun had been effortlessly taken from him and turned on him—shock and confusion, awe and enthrallment… Did Hajime remember the way he’d reacted after being shot? The way he’d reached out for him? That’d be a little embarrassing. He felt his face heating up even now as it had back then and dipped his head to try and conceal it, only to look up again when his wrist was grabbed.

“Ah, it’s ok, Hajime,” he started, trying to wave off his concern, “I tried to shoot you- er, him first so it was all fair. But I believe you and I trust you not to shoot me. Or if you did I’d trust you had a really good reason for it.” Nagito, you are not being as reassuring as you think you are.

     well,  hajime  wouldn’t  call  that  first  impression  interesting  in  a  good  way,  but  it  had  been  a  first  impression  regardless.  they  were  different  people  back  then,  stuck  under  the  grey  cloud  of  despair  while  it  rained  on  their  heads  and  poisoned  their  minds.  now,  they  were  free  of  that.  “  yeah,  thank  goodness  for  that.  ”  hajime  doesn’t  want  to  entertain  possibility  of  what  else  could  have  happened  otherwise  to  his  friend  upon  meeting  izuru  all  that  while  ago.

𝐇𝐄  𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍’𝐓  𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐙𝐄  𝐇𝐎𝐖  𝐑𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐃  𝐇𝐄    really is until he sits himself down on his bed. Why the fuck was he so nervous? It’s just Hajime. It’s not like he’s that Izu-whatever bastard anymore. He’s Hajime. He’s his friend. So why was he so worried that the brunet was gonna high tail it outta there and leave him all alone– Oh, that had to be it. 

Things have been a struggle for Fuyuhiko while he started regaining his memories, and they’ve just been getting more painful than the last. The one about carving his eye out and replacing it with Junko’s was enough to make him scream out in agony, as if he was doing it to himself all over again. That’s how painful reliving that one was. But back then, he had Peko at his side, someone he loved and trusted, someone he could confide in and understand his pain. Now, he had no one.

No one, except Hajime.

He flops himself down onto the covers, staring up at the ceiling at nothing in particular. “ Ain’t that the fuckin’ truth. ” He mutters, tucking his arms behind his head so he can peek up at Hajime just… standing in the middle of his room like a lost dog. “ You can sit, you know. We’re friends. I’m not gonna bite you. ”

Suddenly his voice pains. “ We… are still friends, aren’t we? ”

     his  hand  absently  goes  to  his  tie.  it’s  a  reflex  he’s  always  had  whenever  he  gets  particularly  nervous  or  embarrassed.  but  in  this  circumstance,  he’s  not  sure  which  one.  he  loosens  the  tie  a  bit  but  then  tightens  it  back  up,  giving  him  a  more  grounding  feeling  so  he  can  continue.  he  didn’t  know  where  to  stand  or  sit,  so  he’s  thankful  that  fuyuhiko  spoke  up.  it’s  grants  hajime  some  assurance  that  he’s  not  unwanted  company.  but  hajime  just  sits  at  the  edge  of  the  bed,  feet  firmly  on  the  ground  and  his  hands  resting  in  his  lap.  he  doesn’t  mean  to  appear  uncomfortable,  it’s  just  how  he  naturally  looks.

【 𝙰𝙲𝙲𝙴𝚂𝚂𝙸𝙽𝙶 𝚂𝙰𝚅𝙴 𝙳𝙰𝚃𝙰… 】 :// @hopefalse​

          How she’d gotten roped into helping Teruteru set things out for the class’s little get-together, she wasn’t exactly certain. Surely someone else could have done it! Someone less prone to tripping over her own feet and dropping things! Still, she was already stuck with the job, so she was going to do her best! Surprisingly, thus far, things had been going well!

          But she should have known it wouldn’t last forever, and she’s so focused on not tripping over nothing that she winds up running straight into Hajime with the final dish — which, of course, winds up spilling on both of them as well as the floor. A distressed squeak escapes the nurse with the collision, and she stumbles back a couple steps. 「 O-Oh my gosh! Hajime, I’m so sorry! 」

     hajime  wasn’t  quite  sure  whether  a  party  was  the  best  course  of  action,  especially  since  byakuya  was  the  one  who  posed  the  idea  in  the  first  place.  but  perhaps  he  was  right,  it  was  important  to  ensure  that  no  one  would  be  killed.  but  hajime  didn’t  understand  why  he  had  to  get  dragged  around  with  the  super  high  school  level  heir  to  pick  up  any  items  that  might  be  considered  dangerous.

@hopefalse​: [ tie ] or [ drape ] !    //   sent from:   ultimate affectionate gestures compilation

               OUT OF THE FIRE & INTO A BRAVE NEW WORLD !

     The Neo-World Program, even at its most  optimized,  wasn’t without its drawbacks. Both a  mental  and  physical  toll had been taken on the former Remnants of Despair as they emerged from the simulation and returned to the real world. There was no knowing how long the recovery process would take but Naegi remained  cautiously  optimistic, even after witnessing several instances of  discoordination  and  lethargy  amongst the participants —- Hajime Hinata being the latest example. Naegi had only meant to visit and check in on him but the other’s hesitation in doing their tie had caught his eye. Whether it was due to  distraction  or the  aftermath  of the simulation, the exact cause wasn’t of any real consequence as footsteps promptly closed the distance between them and a jut of his chin gestured towards the tie hanging limply around Hinata’s neck.

     ❝  Hajime  — uh, may I ?  I could use the practice.  ❞   Hazel eyes lowered in a signal towards his own black tie, neatly done up in a standard knot and paired with his white dress shirt — a stark  contrast  to his usual attire which prioritized  comfort  over  style. The reason was given with  purpose,  a dedicated effort not to of accidentally infringe on the other’s personal autonomy. In the aftermath of the simulation, the importance of  independence  was understood well and the last thing he wanted to do was undermine it.   ❝  Took me  ages  to get it right on my first day.  ❞

     A  sheepish  chuckle filled the subsequent pause but otherwise, ample opportunity was granted in case Hinata wished to  decline  the offer; he wouldn’t have taken it personally. Only when no  opposition  was voiced and no apparent attempt was made to  intervene, however, did he feel comfortable enough to proceed. Timidly did fingers  delicately  handle the tie’s material as he shuffled closer and caught the other’s heterochromatic stare, a smile offering its  reassurance  before his focus returned to the task at hand. The ends were maneuvered with  skill  and a  steady  hand,  the result of several  long  hours of practice in front of the mirror after he was hired the Future Foundation. The  formal  dress code had admittedly taken a bit of time to get used to, especially after relying on his hoodie and jacket as fashion staples for so long during his brief stint at Hope’s Peak Academy.

     Brows slightly furrowed in  concentration  while he worked but as the larger end dipped underneath the front and the lifted collar was pulled down in the final step, the  intensity  of his determination washed away and the tension in his shoulders eased. Final touches were made to smooth out the sides along the collar to  banish  any unseemly wrinkles before his final evaluation concluded with a hummed note of  satisfaction  and a inquiring look towards Hinata –– ready to receive any  criticism  and make  adjustments  if they were needed. He wouldn’t have been so bold as to self-proclaim himself to be an expert but for what it was worth, Hinata wore the end result extremely well.

                                    ❝  —————-  How’s that ?   Not too tight ?  ❞  

     the  first  thing  hajime  wanted  to  do  the  second  he  was  out  of  the  pod  was  to  take  a  shower.  izuru’s  hair  felt  greasy  on  his  head  and  it  tangled  into  knots  with  every  step  he  took.  he  had  been  plugged  into  the  program  for  so  long  that  he  had  momentarily  forgotten  how  legs  worked.  he  had  asked  for  a  pair  of  scissors  as  well.  he  technically  didn’t  ask  because  his  voice  wouldn’t  work  for  some  reason,  so  he  had  to  resort  to  incessantly  moving  his  fingers  to  mimic  scissors.  many  of  the  program’s  workers  were  uncertain,  advising  that  he  should  not  be  alone  with  a  pair  while  in  his  current  state,  but  the  silver,  almost  lavender,  haired  woman  spoke  up  on  his  behalf.

     now  with  his  hair  cut  short  to  the  length  he  knew  best,  he  returned  to  his  room,  or  rather  the  room  that  they  could  monitor  him  in,  where  his  suit  was  waiting  for  him.  no,  not  his  suit.  izuru’s  suit.  his  stomach  twisted  into  knots.  putting  the  suit  on  meant  being  closer  to  him  again  and  hajime  refused.  so  he  tossed  the  black  coat  aside  and  slipped  on  the  white  button  up,  rolling  up  the  sleeves.  but  he  pauses  at  the  tie,  it  hanging  loosely  around  his  neck.  he  longed  for  his  green  one  but  knew  that  wasn’t  an  option  currently.  and  he  couldn’t  go  without  one  because  a  tie  around  his  neck  was  grounding,  something  he  tended  to  fuss  with  whenever  he  felt  anxious.

     the  voice  jolts  him  from  his  thoughts,  as  he  glances  over  to  see  makoto  approaching  him.  at  the  request,  hajime  almost  declined,  but  quickly  mulled  it  over  and  agreed  with  a  simple  nod.  it  was  just  a  tie,  he  needn’t  get  so  worked  up  about  it.  he  watches  makoto’s  fingers  carefully,  how  they  twist  and  turn  the  fabric  expertly  in  the  same  way  he  knows  how.  but  hajime  doesn’t  stop  there,  letting  his  eyes  travel  up  along  his  peer’s  arms  cautiously,  until  they  rest  on  his  face.  makoto’s  bangs  just  hang  right  above  his  eyes,  his  hair  lighter  and  softer,  matching  his  gentle  expression.  this  was  real,  right?  this  was  really  makoto?

Nagito was hesitant to let go as well. He couldn’t remember the last time he was hugged like this. Hajime doing it especially felt nice. Between that and the surprisingly jubilant laughter from the other, it made him feel for just a moment like maybe everything would be ok after all. Was this hope…?

“You’re right. Ever since you woke me up, I’ve been remembering things I’d forgotten in the program, and I remember meeting him. He was… a lot different than you.” He remembered at the time finding Izuru interesting and being drawn to that aura of sheer talent he gave off, but he was definitely not a warm and friendly presence. Currently though, Nagito was afraid to give anything but a neutral opinion on him, not sure how Hajime would take any comments about his former self.

     the  laughter  subsides  as  he  glances  away,  still  glowing  before  the  conversation  dips.  izuru  kamukura.  he  had  slowly  been  getting  his  memories  back  about  who  he  was  before  the  program,  just  like  nagito.  but  his  memories  were  often  dark  and  plagued  with  izuru’s  monotonous  voice  repeating  the  word  ‘  boring  ’  over  and  over  again  with  each  memory.  “  yeah  ...  he  was  different  alright.  ”  his  voice  is  softer  now,  a  mix  of  mild  distaste  and  defeat.  

@hopefalse​ asked: “ you stayed? ” // simping softness prompts

                  SOFT SMILE FORMS with the question, as Makoto catches the slight tinge of surprise in Hajime’s words— he gives a quick nod, a glance out at the others together, all of them SAFE, hopefully on the road to healing just as had been his goal in gathering the remnants ( dramatic shift from what he had planned, he recalls the gut-wrenching feeling of watching them go through everything, knowing he brought them there, but it still worked out in the end, didn’t it? ). And maybe the warm expression takes force— difficult to even stand here with the persistent pain from assorted injuries and…the weight in his chest threatening to cave in at any moment and swallow him in guilt— but it’s genuine. 

      “I wanted to see how you were all doing,” He answers, ignoring the slight strain on his voice. “All of this…it has to be a lot to handle, I don’t mind staying here for a little while to make sure you’re okay, it’s…one of the reasons I came, after all.” 

     hajime  would  be  lying  if  he  said  he  wasn’t  glad  that  makoto  stayed,  for  now  at  the  very  least.  he’s  fairly  certain  that  makoto’s  talents  and  influence  will  be  needed  elsewhere.  but  for  the  time  now,  he’s  glad  that  the  super  high  school  level  hope  is  here,  serving  as  a  bit  of  a  spearhead  in  aiding  the  ex  remnants  of  despair  regather  themselves.  picking  up  the  pieces  of  their  own  identities  completely  on  their  own  wouldn’t  be  possible,  but  it  would  be  much  more  difficult.  and  there  were  a  few  times  when  hajime  couldn’t  meet  the  gazes  of  his  peers  as  they  struggle  to  come  to  terms  with  everything.  but  the  gentle  nature  of  makoto  seemed  to  put  them  at  ease,  hajime  noting  the  relaxation  in  his  friend’s  shoulders  at  makoto’s  words.  was  this  the  work  of  his  hope?

     his  hair  is  starting  to  get  long  again.  he  can  feel  the  ends  of  his  spiky  strands  start  to  tickle  at  his  shoulders,  causing  a  shiver  to  travel  up  his  spine.  it  had  been  long  once  before,  the  longest  he’d  ever  let  it  grow  to,  but  he  won’t  let  that  happen  again.  he  will  never  look  into  a  mirror  and  see  him  again.  the  discolored  eye  was  one  thing,  unpreventable,  but  he’s  grown  used  to  it.  his  hair  is  much  more  easily  controllable.