Chapter Text
You didn’t feel bad about his situation, not really.
There were too many advantages to Nagito Komaeda being tied up at this moment. Nobody being in danger of death was probably a good start, but then again you find that it hard to assume Nagito would have enough motive to go through with a murder now that the first killing had been done. It was more about others feeling safe in their environment, you surmised, and this compromise was probably the fastest way of getting a stable mood after the murder.
Now that he was locked up however, someone had to fill out the chore of feeding him. Mahiru was voted into it initially, but when you caught her carrying an untouched plate of rice on her way out of the dining hall where he was tied, and looking plenty flustered and annoyed because of it, you could only really offer to help. You had a feeling he was going you’d be able to take on his picky attitude with more success, and besides, seeing Mahiru’s face light up at the prospect of being able to go about the rest of her business for the day was enough to make you think that either way, the trouble would be worth it.
She gratefully handed you the freshly made tray of toast, and proceeded to rush off to somewhere else.
Nagito didn’t look half as feisty as Mahiru made him out to be when you opened the door to see him. He was curled into a comfortable, albeit degrading position facing away from you in the darkest corner of the room.
“Is that you, Mahiru?” he called out before he craned his neck to look at you, saw the tray of food you were carrying, and rushed to correct himself with a smile.
“Oh, I see Mahiru got too busy for me. I’m sorry, it seems like you’ve been made to do the dirty work.” His words were completely disconnected from his tone. Combined with the gentle smile on his face you could only assume he really believed what he was saying, and it was a sad display of self-pity more than it was anything else.
“I volunteered, actually," you said. His attitude towards himself might have been upsetting in any other case, but here it just grated on your nerves.
“Ah, is that really so?”
It really was, but you were too focused on sorting out eating arrangements to answer his question.
You hadn’t really given it much thought initially; you’d just assumed it'd be as easy as dropping the tray off at his feet, but seeing the binds tightly wrapped around his feet and arms said otherwise.
You could always prop him up by the table, but that would only really serve to make him more comfortable. The binds on his wrist were a different issue entirely. Spoon-feeding him the bread seemed like the most practical option (apart from unlocking the chain around his arms for a couple of moments, but well, the others had decided he was best left tied up so that was probably the best way of doing things for now).
“Miharu prepared some toast for you, like you asked,” you said, almost absentmindedly.
“I see.” He replied, with a dreary boredness that lulled his words into monotone. “In that case please just feel free to leave it on the floor next to me; I’d feel bad being more of an inconvenience than I already am.”
There was something inherently annoying about his passive pessimism, like a pipe of gunk leaking into every sentence that came out of his mouth. You only hoped your patience would outlast it.
“It’s nice of you to be considerate,” you said, and when he opened his mouth to refute, alarm bells went off in your head and you cut him off. “But I really don’t mind, this gives me something to do for the next couple of minutes.” Your hand was getting sore, so you walked over to the table and put the tray down on there.
“No I insist, in fact, I’d much rather you left.” Nagito’s tone was unwaveringly genuine. It was enough to make you look at him again.
“And leave you to eat food off the floor like a dog?”
It didn’t even take a moment of hesitation before he laughed (and really, he had the gall to laugh, as if his situation was at all funny).
“It’s what I deserve, isn’t it?”
His request took a moment to process, because honestly, what was he even trying to achieve? Did he just dislike you? Was he even planning on eating it after you left in the first place? Perhaps this was some part of an elaborate scheme to starve himself and cause an indirect murder?
No. That wasn’t the case. He didn’t have it in him. He wouldn’t, he just wouldn’t and there was no way he disliked you or anyone else here. Nagito was better than that.
All others excluded, there was really only one possibility left.
“Are you trying to get me to leave cause you’re embarrassed?”
A pause that was just a touch too long to be natural split apart a gentle gasp from his direction and a quiet laugh that followed. Somewhere in there, you thought you saw him hesitate between keeping up the façade and just giving up, before a slump in his frame sent him to the latter.
“Oh, I didn’t think you would figure me out so quickly. Was I really being so obvious?”
To support the guilt resting in his reluctant and heavy gaze, a twitch in his shoulders turned his face a titch away from your angle of view.
“Sorry,” you heard him continue, and his voice too, was apologetic. “It worked for Mahiru, but I should have known you’d see right through it.”
“Don’t worry about it.” You kept one eye on the tray of food. “You should probably eat something though.”
With confidence that the chains could reach to the nearest table, you gestured for him to shuffle over and to the closest table leg, so you could prop him against it.
“You want me to go there?” He gave a little laugh. “I think that might be a little difficult for me at the moment.”
You thought about it for a second, before you walked over and squatted behind him.
“No problem, I’ll just drag you along.”
“Oh no- it’s really alright. Don’t dirty your hands with the likes of – “
A little awkwardly, you wrapped your arms around his small frame and pulled upwards, and it was about as easy as you had imagined it would be based off his skinny wrists.
In surprise, Nagito’s voice cut itself off abruptly, like he didn’t think you’d actually be willing to touch him.
“You seem clean to me," you said, and althoug you didn’t really see it at the time, his fingers clenched around his knees and gently gripped the cloth on his pants.
“I – I really don’t deserve this.” he said, just below a whisper.
Just before his back met with the leg of the table, he uttered a small thank you.
There was an odd sense of intimacy about the whole situation. You were reluctant to compare it to taking care of a child, because Nagito’s resigned smile and bleak gaze brought you back down to earth whenever you tried making that connection. It was more like a nurse taking care of a patient, slowly, slowly, and gently and gently.
You didn’t really notice your hand linger on his shoulder, but Nagito startled you enough to take it off when he brought his knees tightly together and against his chest. It was an odd position and it didn’t really look all that comfortable, but maybe it was just the best he could do with the binds on.
“You don’t have to do this for someone like me, you know. I’d be happy just eating off the floor.”
“I was hoping you wouldn’t start on that bullshit again,” you replied, smoothing his coat out so it was comfortable for him to sit on.
“Ah, sorry. This must be super annoying to you, right? All this talk of self-pity has to be really troublesome for an ultimate.”
Another flare of gentle annoyance swept up to your furrowed brows with a mixture of other flurried emotions.
“Well, I guess it means you have a lot of respect for us, which is… nice in a way. I mean, it’s flattering. But the others would probably like you more if you started seeing yourself as an equal. You’re an Ultimate too, you know.”
“Me? Your equal?” He laughed again to fill in the silence, but it was so dry you almost felt the back of your own throat crackling up. “Your kindness must be overwhelming for you to see any worth in me and my knock-off of an ability, let alone enough to be your equal.”
Nagito picked up on the gentle, uncomfortable shifting about your feet. Honestly, he flustered you a little, because you were sure it wasn’t your kindness as much as it was just the genuine truth.
“Well, I mean – thank you. But I don’t think that’s the case. It doesn’t take any kindness to accept people when they’re on the same level as you.”
“But doesn’t it take kindness to assume people are on the same level as you in the first place?”
An unbroken bout of intense eye contact from Nagito’s direction put you on the spot. It was an odd feeling, but you felt like you were getting observed. Partially so you would have an excuse to take your eyes off him, you picked up a knife from the table and used it to spread butter onto the bread.
“I think it’s just part of being a human being.”
“Yeah, I had a feeling you would say something like that.” There was a gentle lilt in his voice, as though the beginning of a knowing smirk latched itself onto his intonations. “Well, thank you anyway. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I’m grateful you can see any good in me at all.”
“You don’t need to thank me for that for that,” you answered, taking the tray off the table and propping it up against your chest. “Like I said, it’s just something expected.”
“Maybe so.” His voice came down to a low hum. You had to train your ears to focus on his pitch to pick up on the rest of his sentence.
“Or maybe… it’s just part of your ability? The Ultimate Optimist would see the good in anything, even if it had no worth in the first place.”
It was wrong, you were sure of it, but the sincerity in his words was so striking it still hurt to hear them.
“Although, if I’m honest… It does feel good, you know. Having a bit of hope all from the most hopeful Ultimate, all to myself.” When you intentionally avoided looking at his face, you saw rows of goosebumps dot his arms. “Even though I know deep down that I don’t deserve any of it.”
When you finally plucked up the courage to look into his eyes, the glazed euphoria inside them was so intense you turned away almost automatically. It was just such an intensely sickly mixture of such transparent, unbridled desire you felt it go down into your spine before you even really commit it to memory.
“Jesus Nagito, you should really learn to stop putting other people on a pedestal,” you said, more out of discomfort than anything else.
“Haha sorry, I just can’t help but show my appreciation.”
That was hardly the problem, but you had a bigger issue on your hands for the moment. Specifically, a tray of toast that was getting cold.
“Just forget about it for now, I’m here to feed you, remember?”
“Oh, but you’ve already been so kind to me! It’ll be greedy of me to expect more.”
A slice of bread rest at the centre of plate, from where you softly picked it up with the pads of your thumb and forefinger. “There’s no way you’re going to be called greedy for trying to survive.”
He hesitated for only a second, before the fresh scent of bread swept over his nostrils and he sheepishly craned his head up towards it.
“Well, I suppose I don’t really have a choice.”
He took an eager (but still somewhat shy) bite out of the slice and turned his face away to chew it. Up this close, you could see a sweep of blush brighten his face with a soft pink. You put it down to gratitude until you felt a similar flare of heat cover your own cheeks in embarrassment.
It didn’t help that he was close enough for the heat from his face to reach your fingertips. It wasn’t difficult to hear the food as he swallowed it either, and if you held your own breath you were positive you could hear his, chopped up and fast.
After a couple of bites in awkward silence, he spoke to fill it in.
“This is almost romantic, isn’t it?” He gave you his best attempt at a genuine smile yet.
You picked up on the potential fun to be had into the route of conversation, so you shifted in your seat to a more comfortable position and smiled back at him.
“That’s a very optimistic way to be looking at things, don’t you think?” The smugness of your expression was impossible to ignore.
“I’ve got no doubt about that,” he said. His phrasing was upsetting, but again, he was smiling. Was this funny to him? Did he think it would make you laugh too? “Well, not that I can imagine that you’re feeling anything other than pity and resentment for me, but there’s no way the Ultimate Optimist would want to crush the little bit of hope I have, right?”
Again, his overwhelming bluntness stole any words that might have been on the tip of your tongue. The admiration in his eyes would have further dug your grave if you turned to see it, but even without it, his obsession was clear in his voice. To his credit, he picked up on your silence relatively quickly this time, and shifted the mood of the conversation to accommodate. “Ah sorry, I’m doing it again aren’t I?”
“It’s alright,” you said, for the umpteenth time, and pushed the bread towards his mouth again.
Nagito took another bite. Neither of you said a word until the slice was finished. When the last small bite of toast was left in your fingers, the pad of your forefinger brushed against his lips as he tried to take it from your hand with his mouth. You did your best not to startle, but the place where you felt him brush against you erupted into flames.
“You should probably drink something too,” you said, a touch too quickly. Your voice hadn’t been used in a while, so it came out scratchy, with a crack somewhere in the middle. Still, Nagito didn’t say anything.
For some peculiar reason, your hand shook when you unscrewed the cap from the bottle of the milk. It was severe enough for you to notice it without paying attention, so you put your mind into manual and did your best to still it.
“Here,” you said, and still, the intimacy remained – if it wasn’t multiplied tenfold.
There was that eye contact, when his lips met with the edge of the opening. As you pressed the bottle into his mouth a little, you couldn’t help but notice your hand shake again, your attention completely focused on the way his pale, dry lips wrapped around the opening. When he started drinking, the bob of his Adam’s apple was equally as hypnotising.
There was little you could deny to say it was all your fault when you didn’t pick up on Nagito trying to pull himself away from the bottle, and when you held it in the same place, tilted towards his mouth, almost all its contents dribbled down his chin and onto his clothes.
“Shit, sorry!” You exclaimed, hurriedly snapping out of your trance and wiping at his chin with your sleeve. You swore you could see him shiver, but it was quick, and barely there at all.
“Oh man, some of it even went on your pants, didn’t it?” you continued, looking him over to assess the damage. “It’s a miracle there’s still some left in the bottle.”
Nagito sat and waited expectantly as your mind returned to you, and you started looking around for tissues. It really had gone everywhere. He felt it seep through his pants and onto his legs, and then later a coldness on his chest where his skin touched his shirt. Furthermore (based on how frantic you were getting in your search) there really appeared to be no tissues anywhere, which was weird not only because this was the dining hall, but also because he could swear that there were piles upon piles on the tables barely a day ago, on the night of Byakuya's murder. This reeks of bad luck, he thought, feeling the stickiness of the milk turn to a dry crust. Would the feel of your fingers on his face be enough to pay it back?
“It’s alright, I don’t mind being dirty," he said, because seeing you get genuinely flustered over his well-being was quite upsetting.
“Well now you’re just being nice about it so I don’t feel bad, aren’t you?”
He wasn’t, really, but he didn’t say anything to refute you.
“Wait here, I’ll bring you some fresh clothes before you even notice I’m gone,” you said, still dabbing at his clothes with your sleeve for a couple more seconds before finally giving up on it. “You’ll fit my size, right?” You asked, leaving the dining hall before he had a chance to answer your question.
Gently, he felt the wind on his face a couple of seconds after the door closed on its own.