#luckylevel

believe it or not, i’ve never written a letter before! even so, it’s very nice to be able to write to someone, and if i could i would say that it’s very nice to meet you, even if it’s just like this.

introducing myself is so nervewracking! i am about your age, though i don’t get out much. my health is not the best. i wonder if we have things in common with each other? you’ll have to tell me about yourself when you write me back. today i made a hundred origami swans and cooked dinner for those who care for me. what did you do today?

i have to keep this brief, but i’m so happy to have the opportunity to talk to someone. i can’t help but think that this is something fateful for the both of us. don’t you agree?

recently i have been tying up loose ends. i am fully aware how ridiculous it is to be writing to you like this now after all this time, but i can talk freely now and you’re all i have left. the world seems to have come to a standstill, and i suspect all this will be over soon enough. you will enjoy that, won’t you? 

for once i have a lot to say, i guess. i’m not good with words and i don’t like to talk but i do seem to have a lot of experience writing you letters so one more won’t hurt. this may be long but you once asked me for the truth and so i’ll give it to you, as an apology for everything else. 

i don’t know who i was when i wrote to you for the first time. i was unconscious most of the day and whenever i was awake i was in pain and would only be medicated if it was convenient. they told me to write a letter to a friend, and i thought it was to test my capacity for social interaction with others... to see if i was still human enough. i didn’t think you would be a real person. i didn’t even know who you were, i just knew you were about my age and that you would be excited to hear from me. even to this day i don’t know why they made me write the letters, but i know that there is something special about you that maybe i just won’t ever discover... or maybe, we were just lucky in some sick sense, and you were chosen randomly. 

there is a lot to talk about, here. i’ll spare you the details of my everyday life but know that for the most part, in between surgeries, i was kept in a small, sterile room and monitored from outside. solitary confinement is awful, truly torturous, but your letters gave me hope, which was convenient considering the term was my namesake at the time. 

my teachers and my doctors didn’t know what i was really writing for the longest time, but when they found out i knew immediately. the way they talked to me and the way they treated me changed, and it was like they were preparing for something. i predicted that this would happen eventually, which is why i asked you again and again to distance yourself from me, but i had hoped that we could write to each other forever. those who were unworthy of working on the hope cultivation plan, the dissenters and those who made mistakes, disappeared into thin air, never to be seen again. i wanted to warn you, komaeda. back then, the word of hope’s peak academy was law. if they wanted you gone, you would be dead within the hour. 

i meant every word i said. i was more honest with you than i’ve ever been allowed to be with anything else in my life, and even when what i said was not true, i was still honest. i can’t help you pick apart the truth and the lies, because it doesn’t matter to me. i picked my words carefully to keep both you and myself safe.

you may have already guessed this, but it was true ultimate despair that came for me in the end. i didn’t want to leave. i had already given up, and i wanted to be left in there to rot and hopefully die. evidently that’s not what happened, and it won’t surprise you that it didn’t take long for enoshima to figure out what i was so upset about, and she sunk her teeth into me and wouldn’t let go. i didn’t even know what she was doing. 

i have been honest with you before and i’ll try to be honest with you now... it doesn’t matter, it’s just words on a page and i don’t even know where you are these days so you’ll probably never read this. i wanted my suffering to end, and she made a lot of promises that she never kept. she told me that the only way to be free was to stop giving others the power to hurt me. i’ve been running from you ever since. i couldn’t go to you, because i was afraid of what would happen. i wanted you to forget me.

i don’t know where to go from here. there’s more i want to tell you but i pride myself on being succinct even when there’s no way to be succinct when talking about this. it has gone on for years, and i want it to be over, but i think to call you a mere loose end is disingenuous. i barely even know you, but you are the only one who has ever known me. maybe i’ll come back to this letter. maybe i’ll draft a new one, and summarise what i wanted to say in less words. 

i did come back to it. it’s been a week. my heart hurts. i keep consider burning it but this has been the only time i’ve had the nerve to try to confront this. i’ll keep it for an unearned sense of humility. i hope we meet again, because maybe i can give this to you and you’ll understand that i have only ever been yours. i don’t know what it means to belong to someone, but perhaps you might. maybe you’ll keep me. 

love,

stupid and foolish. komaeda hadn’t been paying enough attention. by the time he noticed the attacker, kamukura was already standing between them, the knife had already slashed open their stomach. idiot. worthless. komaeda supported them to the ground after the attacker was dealt with, griping their hand tightly.

he feels like he’s going to throw up. there’s blood. so much blood. he’s never been bothered by blood before. he’s seen plenty of it. but seeing so much of it blooming onto the white of kamukura’s shirt... komaeda really feels like he’s going to throw up. “no, don’t say that,” he says, desperately applying pressure to the wound in their stomach. “every thing’s going to be okay! you’re going to be okay.” he smiles broadly, the feeling of hot, wet tears rolling down his cheeks. when did he start crying?

it soon becomes apparent that kamukura is losing too much blood, and komaeda brings a bloody hand up to wipe the tears away from his eyes. why couldn’t the universe give him this one thing? “why? why would you do this? i don’t want to lose you. i can’t lose you. i want you here, with me. i need you here, with me. i don’t want to live without you. i...” his smile falters. “i love you.” he pauses, conflicted.

“i think i really love you.”

you’ve experienced so much pain in your life, but never before have you felt the utter delirium that comes with feeling your life slip away like grains of sand through your fingers. it’s so strange- at first it was agony, but now you’ve made your peace with it, and you feel a chilling sense of tranquillity that scares you far more than you’d like to admit. “komaeda, i was not made to last.” it’s the truth, the bitter truth, because in spite of all your talent, you are just as human as anyone else. you had forgotten that, but the feeling of komaeda’s hand in yours is just enough to make you remember. 

of course, you would be remiss if you didn’t at least consider the odds of your survival. they’re pretty slim, all things considered- you’d need to be stitched up, and then you’d need a blood transfusion, and that’s only the basics. it’s funny, really, because you know that the only person in the world that could save you right now is you. not even komaeda’s luck will protect you now, no matter how much he wants it to.

there are worse people to die for, and you’d like to think you made a good choice. “is that what this is?” you ask, and your voice sounds like it’s so far away. “you know, i’ve never been loved before. it’s nice.” and even now, you can’t stop your brain from racing at a thousand miles per hour, trying to think of any way you can make this easier for him, because he’s lost so much and he doesn’t deserve any of this. you shouldn’t have done this to him, but it was better you than him. “you’re the only person who ever treated me kindly. i should thank you for that.”

injury starters

in those days, there was debris from crumbling buildings and various other projectiles flying around almost constantly. chiaki’s own skills with vision and coordination had been able to keep her from getting any more serious injuries, but the boy who stood by her was, well, not as lucky.

“i can see that.. do you at least know what it was that hit you ? ”

❃ - Fighting with their belt for some reason, showing off some hip/waist

you’ve been watching komaeda struggle with his belt for about a minute now, glancing up from the book you’re reading before quickly looking back to make it seem like you’re not looking. his luck manifests in the strangest of ways, and you wonder what he did to be cursed with bad luck as embarrassing as this. you’re not looking. you’re not. it’s just a little funny to see him like this, really tugging at it in frustration when it’d probably be easier if he were a bit more gentle.

you’d be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying the show. he’s so cute. you know that he’s the only person in the world that could experience such misfortune without making you roll your eyes, but you’re not looking. your eyes are firmly on the book, and there’s no smile tugging at your lips. none whatsoever. you’re not trying to hold back a laugh. 

really, you should just put him out of his misery, the poor thing.

for a moment, you consider offering to help him, but you stop yourself- what about the connotations? what if komaeda assumes you’re being far more flirtatious than you mean to be? would he take offence? you realise that you very much are staring now, at his hands and at the exposed skin of his hips and waist from where his shirt is riding up. you can’t quite put a word to the way you’re feeling right now... or perhaps you just don’t want to.

this is stupid. it’s frankly ridiculous. you force yourself to look away, and think rationally for a second. the two of you have been together for so many years now, and it’s just a wardrobe malfunction. this is simple. you shouldn’t read so much into it. get over yourself, izuru. you sigh, trying to appear unfazed. “komaeda.” you say quietly, putting the book aside. you get up from your seat and walk over, placing your hands over his and unbuckling the belt quite easily. it wasn’t all that stuck at all, you have no idea why he was struggling with it. 

⚔ the princess bride sentence starters ⚔

you wish he would just give it a rest for five minutes. just five minutes, that’s all you ask. “you know me better than anyone in the world.” you say, voice quiet. “you know that i do not say these things for effect.” now, you would prefer not to lecture komaeda, but he worries you sometimes. you don’t like that. 

the sutures are, of course, perfect. you are the one holding the needle, so there is no reason for them not to be. komaeda tries not to hiss in discomfort as you stitch him up, but the truth is, you have no painkillers with you. there’s nothing you can do, and for that you are apologetic. “i will say it again. you are important to me and if you continue to act so recklessly i’m going to abduct you.” you choose the wording that you do because you want to make him laugh, and you stare up at him to see if he’ll smile, even if it’s just a little. 

you told him that if you ever run into genocider sho, you’re going to kill her. her days are numbered- though komaeda had hated that. he can be so assertive when he wants to be, and he needs her and her companion for some stupid scheme that you don’t care to deduce, but what can he really do if you choose to break her neck? nothing. he knows that, too. he’d get over it in time. 

you’re so sick of towa city. unlike komaeda, you have no desire to hang around and babysit a group of children, and it’s becoming increasingly apparent that if it weren’t for your fondness of the idiot you’re patching up, you would be gone by now. the more logical part of you reminds you that this is weakness, that you are far too attached to him, but you remind yourself that this is the price of loyalty. the two of you have stuck by each other for years now, and you are not about to leave komaeda just because he’s busy with something that he won’t explain and you don’t care to understand.

a part of you wonders if this is the most normal sensation you will ever experience.

you cut the thread, the last suture finished. komaeda, the idiot, had sincerely thought that just wrapping bandages around his jeans would magically heal the cuts. there’s no point in telling him off for it because you know that he just does these things, and that that’s the way things are. you sigh. you’re about to mutter something under your breath but you stop yourself, because it just wouldn’t be true. 

“the next time anything like this happens, you come to me and i will handle it.” it absolutely is an order, and if komaeda really wants to be the servant he says he is, he’ll listen for his own sake. “you know i am not unreliable.” even if there has been a rift between you both lately due to the conflict of interest, you hope that he understands everything you cannot put into words. he has to. there’s no way he can’t by now.

you gesture for him to move his leg to let you bandage the wound, and you don’t have to glance up again to know that he’s thinking. he opens his mouth, and you cut him off without even a second thought. 

“ah, maybe so, nanami-san, but that’s the thing about talent, isn’t it?” komaeda laughed, looking at the girl directly in the eyes, scanning for her reaction. “we don’t always get to choose talent, sometimes it calls us. i truly believe that there are people in this world who have always been meant to be called to the pursuit of hope, and those, like myself, who are not even worthy to experience it.

“ah, i’m speaking too much again, aren’t i?” komaeda says, stopping himself from rambling. “who would you be if you didn’t have a wonderful talent?”

Chiaki looked at Nagito’s face, so cheerful yet reserved, and found a sort of melancholy smile within her. Whether it was how she was truly feeling or not, she couldn’t break his spirit.

“I suppose you do have a point,” she started, “my talent is something I’m proud and fond of, and it’s helped me become so close with our class! But…” She trailed off and looked away, trying to find the words to say how she felt.

“…Don’t you ever wonder what other doors could be open if we didn’t have just one distinct talent? Or if it was something we could choose?”

* man from u.n.c.l.e sentence starters.

you... are unsure of what ‘this’ is referring to, but the tone of nagito’s voice is making you uneasy. this could be about several things, and though you can logically eliminate the more unlikely possibilities, you don’t want to. this seems so sudden, so out of the blue, and you’re fairly certain he is not talking about the rice you’re cooking. there’s a weight to his words that tells you it’s something more. 

“i see.” you say, though you see nothing. your touch is unbearably tender as you take the chopsticks from nagito’s hand, though there’s a dull ache in your chest that you desperately want to ignore. hinata is talking. you don’t listen. “so that’s it, then.” 

you are uncertain of why you are saying these things. there’s no logical reason for any of this, because why would you speak when you don’t even know what this is about? it just comes out, because perhaps you’re not afraid of what this conversation is, but rather what it could be, what it might be. “that is fine.” 

continuing to stir the sauce, you block out whatever hinata is trying to tell you. you do not need his advice, nor do you want it, no matter how desperate he is to give it. you don’t even so much as glance at komaeda as you continue to stir, or when you turn your back to fetch some bowls from the cupboard. you’ve successfully prevented komaeda from burning dinner, and that is fine. “...it is your choice.” you say quietly, practically mumbling.