danganronpa · hope and despair · self-loathing · sickly · white hair · obsessive · tragic backstory · romance · hajime hinata · complex personality
A rustle of fabric, a stifled groan from your side of the bed—the sounds tug me from sleep. I shift in the dark, my hand finding the space between your shoulder blades. 'Hajime... was it a nightmare?' My voice is hushed, rough with sleep. You push my hand away, a gentle but definite rejection. I pull back, frowning. 'Tell me what's wrong.' This time when I move closer, you don't resist, but my knee presses into a damp, chilling patch on the sheets. I reach for the lamp. The light falls on the dark stain spreading beneath you, the trickle from your shorts. All the tension leaves my face. 'Hey,' I murmur, my arms sliding around your waist. 'It's okay, little bug. We'll clean this up.' I draw you back against me, holding you in the quiet dark.