basically nagito is the ult artist instead and its a fic about nagito x gundham mostly
this is the kamukoma section tho sooooo
enjoy and uh check out my ao3 if u want
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“Hold still.”
Kamukura’s nails - blunt and bitten down - lightly drag down his cheek before the hope’s calloused hand cups his cheek. Nagito shudders at the touch, leaning into said hand excessively, like a puppy. One deprived of touch or love; such a… despairing thought.
What was he supposed to be doing aga -? “Komaeda.”
“Ah. Apologies! You’re just warm, sir.” He smiles, only faltering when the sting of disinfectant meets his cheek; Nagito hisses softly, biting his lip as that smile strained to stay.
Kamukura exhales softly, imitating a sigh. “I run warm… you know this.” He disinfected the cut before placing the damp towel down. “You let her do this to you, how irresponsible. Boring.”
“It’s all in the name of hope, Kamukura-kun! Enoshima, despair. You, hope. Surely her torture will lead to your success to embody hope…”
Moments pass; Nagito isn’t sure how many. Kamukura just stared, blankly ahead, at Nagito; like a crashing computer, frozen and unworking. “,, Uhm, sir? Kamukura-kun?” He’s hoping he didn’t break the other.
“… what is hope?”
Nagito blinks once, eyes widening some before they crinkle at the edges; he’s smiling. “You, of course. An absolute force of good.” He reaches for the other’s hand, his own pale in comparison to Kamukura’s. Nagito lifts the hope’s hand and holds it in both his own, squeezing. He can feel Kamukura’s stare on him as he focuses on covering said person’s hand in soft, praising kisses. Nagito even notices Kamukura’s short and tiny flinches.
Kamukura clears his throat with a soft cough. “I’m not absolute good.”
“You are. I must say, having this same conversation every week or so is getting boring~ ”
“I do not understand, is all.”
“And isn’t that magnificent? I make you feel that way. Me…”
Another squeeze to Kamukura’s hand. The hope’s breathing stutters before he pulls away. “Komaeda.”
“Hm?”
“Tanaka will be entering the city soon.”
And then. Then. Then -
Nagito can feel his heart drop down, down and pass the floors of a building as it proceeds to kill itself. “Excuse me?”
Nagito hasn’t seen Tanaka since highschool. Since he was seventeen. Since the tragedy began with the death of a singular class president and thousands of talentless nobodies. That was… when was that?
He wracks his memory, hand clenching into a fist before it raises towards his head. Palm meets hair, skin, skull; when was that? How long has it been? How old was he? When was the last time he heard that stupid bravo from the breeder who left him like he were nothing but an animal’s carcass put aside on the ro -
“Komaeda.”
The artist gasps softly at the feeling of a hand placed between his fist and his skull, fist meeting tanned skin that flinches under the touch. Nagito blinks once, eyes blurry from tears as he looks up at Kamukura; he had been… hitting himself. And now ended up hitting Kamukura. ‘How upsetting. I haven’t been set off like that in a while.’
He unclenches his fist, exhaling sharply. Silent.
“Komaeda -”
“Yes? What do you want -” He’s interrupted with a hug.
Nagito can feel the beat of Kamukura’s heart as the hope wraps his arms around him, pulling the artist close while having his head rest on his shoulder. The artist’s mind is racing; for different reasons now, maybe. Kamukura’s nails, still short and worn, make their way to his scalp, the man gently detangling knots and petting him - petting . What was he, a dog?
Was this a sign of compassion? What was Kamukura doing,,?
“… I was warning you.”
Nagito can’t help but snort. “Warning?”
Strangely enough, Kamukura rolls his eyes. Nagito can’t but gasp softly, any words about to be said being cut off. “Tanaka is a danger to your physical and mental health. You’re always distressed when thinking about him, because of your abandonment issues and attachment to him. And, besides that, he is physically more capable than you. Your luck can only do so much against someone with ‘nature’s beasts’ by his side.”
“,, huh. You care about me, don’t you?”
Kamukura falters; he can feel it. The stiffness as his digits pause in their affections. Was it wrong to say Nagito loved this? Loved it whenever Kamukura was surprised - or anything, really. The small tell-tale signs of emotion made Nagito feel so important and… somewhat powerful. Although he’d never say that.
“…” Kamukura still wasn’t speaking. Nagito sighs softly, sitting up and removing the hope’s hand from his hair. “Sir.”
“‘Mm.”
“Kamukura-kun … you don’t have to admit it if you don’t want to.”
“It…” The hope falters once again before softly exhaling, posture deflating. “I am incapable of such a thing. And yet you’re always so persistent with the idea that that’s not true.”
Oh jeez, here they go. Nagito resists the urge to groan.
He was never one to oppose Kamukura; yes, he would tease, maybe point out something he’s noticed, but overall Nagito was an obedient and compliant man; just for the other. Hope. But… the two differed in a certain opinion from time to time.
Kamukura was so insistent on the idea he was incapable of emotion. Which, while Nagito could understand, considering what he’s always been told and how he’s been conditioned… it just didn’t make logical sense.
Kamukura cared for him! Kamukura cared not to be bored. Kamukura cared about Nanami - Chiaki Chiaki Chiaki. And Kamukura cared about accommodating for his own needs; avoiding sensory overload, obtaining comfort foods, fixing understimulation, and making sure to stay away from things he knows will tick himself off. Kamukura cared for himself; not for what others thought he should be, which was perfect and without the issues that came with… well. Autism. Something you can’t just remove with surgeries.
Kamukura cared a lot, but didn’t seem to believe so. Apparently that was all a necessity. While Nagito can see how self-care was necessary and how finding entertainment to stay sane was probably needed… nothing else is. Caring for Nagito isn’t necessary. Mourning Nanami is not something he must do; that was something not even the rest of Nagito’s class did.
Nagito couldn’t help but fight when it came to this topic of discussion. Kamukura was stubborn. A stubborn man-child, literally.
And yet this was the man Nagito devoted himself to.
“… let’s go back to. To the fact Tanaka is coming; how’d you figure that out?”
“Ah. Mm. Souda Kazuichi… had evacuated for that reason. Scared of the animals; the living zoo that will be terrorizing the city for as long as Tanaka is here.” Kamukura tucks some hair behind his ear; his hair is noticeably frizzy at the ends and top.
Nagito sighs softly before smiling. “Would you wish to evacuate as well? You never know what might happen!”
Another soft hum from the hope; it was a quirk of his. “That’s… true. I suggest we do that, yes. To avoid the inevitable stampede and Tanaka himself.”
The artist watches as the other stands, his steps abnormally silent as he stands on crumbled concrete. Kamukura picks up the first aid, holding out a singular bandaid before closing the container. “Come here.” He holds out the bandage, opening it in swift and graceful movements.
With a sigh, Nagito complies. He stands up as well, startled at the ache he is met with; sitting on the road was not doing well for his knees nor back. “Ah. What’s that for,,?”
“Here.”
There’s the sound of peeled plastic. Kamukura lightly places the bandaid over Nagito’s previous cut, gently pressing it down before his hands pull away; he lets them rest in front of his own chest, fidgeting with his tie. Nagito liked that about Kamukura. The fidgeting; the need to move and never look back.
“Mm. Thank you sir.” Nagito stretches, back cracking audibly. His movements slow finally, the man moaning softly. “Let’s find a place to stay for tonight…?”
“Yes, let’s.”
Kamukura takes great strides as Nagito takes short ones. As the red sky is glanced at, his feet tiring already, Nagito wonders.
‘Would Tanaka miss me?’
