for-hopeâ:
 Disgusting. Disgusting. Disgusting. Komaeda was intimately familiar with the sensation, and yet, somehow, he never got used to it. Like his entire body wanted to violently reject the reality it was exposed to. He wanted, desperately wanted, to have nothing to do with this boy in front of him. Did he hate him? He did, didnât he? How odd. An insignificant stranger, he should have no thoughts about him at all.Â
He shouldnât even be disgusted. And yet he was, visceral, down to his bones, at every word this boy said. So much so that for a moment he actually entertained the blasphemous thought that this person really did have some kind of talent to elicit such a reaction. Komaeda had spent his entire life differentiating the world into talented and untalented, but for the first time a fleeting thought, like a shadow over the moon, crossed the craters of his mind, only for a second. Could there be a different opposite to talent than untalented? Could talent itself be turned inside out? Inverted? But the thought is gone just as fast. âWhat a worthless stepping stone, being stepped on by just anyone, leading no place at all.â The words spilled out before he could register forming them. At the first signs of affection, even fake, Komaedaâs words turned to ice without him even meaning to. At this point it was just a reflex.
âAhah⌠to have attracted such a bothersome and rude insect, what bad luck.â He smiled back at the smiling boy, a smile as empty as Kumagawaâs was full, as full as Kumgawaâs was empty. âReally, what terrible luck.â
If Kumagawa was not used to everyone he met immediately hating him, he might have been offended at a stranger insulting him.Â
ăThen meeting you must have been good luck for me, new best friend.ă
Kumagawa just smiled. He looked mildly amused. A little bored. He would give the strangerâs insults a 3/10. If he wanted to hurt Kumagawaâs feelings he should immediately try to kill him the moment he said hi. That had not happened in awhile, Kumagawa might actually be surprised.Â
White. White. White. The stranger was so white. It was like somebody had taken his image in the mirror and inverted the colors. He forgot about what he was thinking about a moment ago, and just continued to stare at Komaeda. He was like a dog who was puzzling at his reflection in the mirror. He looked with wide, innocent, childish eyes as if he truly did not grasp the concept.
Then he reached forward and put his hands on Komaedaâs face.Â
ăAre you hurt?ăÂ
It was probably a dumb question to ask the boy who looked like he was already on deathâs door in front of him. However, Kumagawaâs concern was genuine. By the way, Kumagawa was currently bleeding, but he seemed to be ignoring that in favor of checking Komaeda for injuries.Â
ăYouâre standing a little funny. Did you sprain your ankle when you fell? Here, Iâll carry you.ăKumagawa said, as he suddenly picked up Komaeda over his shoulder and started to carry him off. ăIt doesnât count as kidnapping if youâre friends <3!ă



















