Work Text:
who we are.
you stood with your arms against the railing, staring out into the sunset and watching the sun say its goodbyes to the sky and the stars say their hellos to the upcoming moon. the wind brushed past your face, kissing your cheeks and making you squint. on instinct, your eyelashes acted as your ocular shield, keeping your eyes protected from the harmless gusts of wind. it was calm and serene, and you thought you could go for a nice steaming cup of coffee or hot chocolate to top the evening off.
days like these were the days you yearned for the most. moments where it felt like nothing could intrude on the atmosphere and dampen it like a coat on a puddle. moments where a good book and a nice drink would do wonders for you. moments where natural beauty is at its finest and nothing else could compare. moments like these were quite rare, you had to admit. often, you were around spending time with your classmates or even your peculiar boyfriend, making memories that could never be forgotten. they’d live forever so long as you were breathing.
now, though, you were finally secluded. alone with no one but yourself, you thought you’d be a little jumpy, but you weren’t. there was no itch to get something done or crave to have your hands moving. it was just pure solace. nobody but yourself to worry about as the cool metal against your arms reminded you that you were still standing up, and the dimming sun’s rays reminded you that—
“oh, there you are.”
“hm?”
you’re nearly startled, but as your brain immediately connected that familiar voice to someone you knew good and well, the startle turned into curiosity with an undertone of love in it that you couldn’t stop even if you tried. as you turned around, who you expected was exactly who you saw.
pale, ghostlike skin. those muted eyes. hair as though sculpted from heaven’s clouds. rosy lips. white shirt, green coat, black jeans, and those fucking shoes that he knows you hate and wears them to tick you off.
your boyfriend, nagito komaeda.
being alone and not having shenanigans to deal with was nice. ibuki got loud no matter what was happening, kazuichi was a scaredy cat. akane tried to fight everything that moved. you still had some difficulties understanding gundham. “basic human decency” isn’t in hiyoko’s dictionary, and so on and so forth. focusing on yourself and prioritizing your wants and needs rather than running around and checking on everyone else wasn’t a crime, but whenever it came to nagito, it felt like you were on death row. if putting nagito above yourself was a sin, lucifer would’ve had a run for his money a long time ago.
nagito disagrees with you. he swears up and down that he doesn’t deserve you. that, because of his luck, he’ll end up inadvertently hurting you. you remind him time and time again that whether or not he was lucky, you fell in love with his charm, and now that you were reeled in, he couldn’t let go.
his charm wasn’t charming. calling it “charm” would be a misnomer in anyone else’s eyes, but how is it that a boy so odd can be so captivating. he was annoying and insufferable when you first met him, talking about hope any chance he got, but with that annoyance came curiosity. the frustration of not knowing what he meant and wanting to know more won over the frustration of what he said and what it implied. once you were hooked, he had you right where he wanted you, and every time he dared throw you back out into the water, he’d deny it last second.
you knew he wanted you. he knew you knew he wanted you.
no amount of bad luck could change that.
“hey, nagito.” you call with a smooth smile, not taking your arms off the metal. “were you looking for me?” you raised a brow, inquiring on why it sounded like nagito was on a quest and you were the treasure. “ah, did you not want me to?” that answered your question: yes, yes he was looking for you. he just said in a way to willingly incriminate himself. like he typically did. “i understand, you couldn’t possibly want scum like me t—“ you cut the boy off, not letting him finish his ludicrous thought. “get over here.” you motion him to join you by your side with your hand before resting it again, and nagito is silent after your rude interruption, but only for a moment. then, he smiles again, and he moseys up towards you, hands in his coat pockets.
“hello.”
you snort. “hey. what’s up.”
the both of you watch as the last few remnants of the sun finally disappeared below the horizon, not looking at one another, yet more aware of each other than eyes ever could. “not much. as my luck would have it, i had to sit through one of ibuki’s music sessions alongside hiyoko, mahiru, byakuya, and mikan. typical, no?” the idea that someone like nagito believed listening to an ultimate’s work and considering it bad luck was hilarious, but you couldn’t fault him. ibuki was a talented musician, but her number one goal seemed to always be how fast she could rupture the human ear drum. “thank god i wasn’t there for that.” you joke, and that earns a chuckle from nagito. “that must’ve been the good luck.” nagito replied. you take a moment to respond to him.
“must’ve been.”
there was silence, and you willed yourself not to look at nagito in fear of loving what you saw too much that you’d melt. it felt like, no matter what came in your path, in both of your paths, nagito was a staple that could never be moved. he was always there for you, even when he didn’t feel like it. this idea sparked a thought, and so you decided to vocalize it. you knew nagito loved a nice debate.
“nagito?”
“yes?”
“do you think we’re together in every universe?”
you didn’t need to look at him to know he was taken aback.
“you have to draw eight!” the child pouted at four of the “+2” cards stacked on top of each other. “whatever!” a tiny hand reached for the deck eight times, the other children counting out loud as if to mock the other. with a flip of the cards and quick evaluation, the child was able to conceal pure shock at the cards dealt.
plus four. wild card. wild card. wild card. skip. skip. skip. skip.
whether it was the fault of bad shuffling or pure luck, needless to say, the child won fairly quickly.
“i don’t think so.” he said after a few seconds of contemplation. you raise a brow. “why not?” though you completely expected the answer, you could think of a number of reasons why he’d say no.
“can i buy a scratch ticket?” a restaurant owner stumbled into a gas station. “of course. rough day?” the cashier made light conversation. the restaurant owner grumbled, pulling out the appropriate amount of money for the lottery ticket and an extra coin. “got robbed a week ago. bills need paying and my restaurant is standing on pillars of fucking sand.” the cashier grimaced. “i’m so sorry to hear that.” one scratch. “it’s alright, i’m sure i’ll figure something out.” another scratch. “how’s your day?” scratch, scratch, scratch. “i’m alright. pretty boring day today.”
scratching, scratching, scra— wait.
the restaurant owner could only stare at the ticket dropping the coin onto the counter with an agape jaw. “is something the matter?” the cashier asked, and the restaurant owner struggled to speak as though the words were trying to get past a wall.
“i just won one million dollars.”
the dumb luck of that day replaced the restaurant owner’s belongings, funded the new and rising restaurant’s relaunch, and turned that cashier into a server.
“my luck would only hurt you in each one.” he said somberly. you couldn’t stop yourself from turning your head to face him, but he didn’t look at you nor spare you a glance.
“i’m sorry, kiddo.” a dejected parent consoled a disappointed teen, both of them in the back of a cab, their destination: home. “i really wanted to go to that party…” the teen sighed, staring out the window like a disney movie protagonist. “if i’d known the car would’ve broken down like that, i would have gotten it checked out sooner.” the teen could only sigh, but nothing could have prepared either one of them for the headlines that hit the news the next morning:
house catches fire during reckless teen party, no survivors
the catastrophe, or luck, rather, of the broken car didn’t compare to the catastrophe of the fallen children.
“hurt me?” you said in shock, scoffing a laugh at the ludicrous idea. nagito only nodded. “you thinking that you hurt me at all is—“ “yet. i haven’t hurt you, yet. but i will.” nagito looked into the eyes of his lover expecting impatience or pity, but he couldn’t find any. all he saw was adoration, and he couldn’t tell why. or rather, he couldn’t believe why.
“then i think we’ll be waiting an eternity for the pain to come, because you never will hurt me. physically, mentally, whatever the fuck you want to call it. and if you still think you’re right, stay beside me and prove me wrong.”
and nagito never felt a love like yours before. he almost wanted to prove you wrong. trust his luck to hurt you and see what you’d do. see the look on your face as you understood that nagito was nothing but a bad omen, but he knew that wouldn’t happen. nagito may’ve thought himself as worthless, but he wasn’t stupid. if he proved you wrong, you would have applauded him. congratulated him as you lay in agony with a smile on your face.
“we’ll see, then.” is what he opted to say, and that made your soft smile grow even softer, if that were even possible. “hey, did you ever get that good luck after ibuki’s ear torment?” you suddenly ask, and nagito raises a brow, but shakes his head side to side. “no, unfortunately not. maybe my luck has stopped?” he teased, but the smug look on his face dropped as you advanced towards him, holding him close to you and pressing your forehead against his ever so softly.
“how about i change that?”
your lips molded together as though they were made for one another. he tasted like danger while you tasted like caution tape. there was no force that could keep you two apart, even if you were together in the wildest ways. even as he dared to try and push you farther away, you would only get closer, like how you did when your arms looped around his neck, tugging him closer as if it were the only way he could feel your intention.
and as much as he’d try to deny himself of you, he couldn’t. he would be a fool to even try. he could feel your intention, sticking to him like an adhesive. sticking to him like his dumb luck had since he first knew oxygen.
and he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t love it.
he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t love you.