was written in July before the anime came out.

//SPOILERS FOR HAJIME'S TALENT//

If it was anything that you loved doing, more then anything in the world, it was drawing.

Just the feeling of pen against paper, scratching an intricate design against a sheet, the silvery-grey sheen of lead- you loved it all.

You had gone through almost six sketchbooks of at least two-hundred pages each, each with your own design on the front.

Flipping through the said sixth sketchbook, opening to the page where you had left one of your sketches of your childhood friend, Hinata Hajime, unfinished, you settled down at a desk.

"Class of the seventy-seventh," you mused, delicately skimming your pencil across one of the lines to Hajime's hair.

"I do believe that's us," a voice from above informed you.

Immediately drawing the sketchbook to your chest (as you hated the thought of anyone seeing them), you glanced up at the same time, lips pulled in a slight frown at the sudden appearance.

White hair, speckled and tinged with russet here and there. The hair floated out in what you could call wisps, paired with a pair of light green, almost grey, eyes.

Your first thought was I want to draw his hair.

"An Ultimate, I presume?" The boy asked, cocking his head to the side with a calming yet an oddity look in his eyes.

"Ah, yes," you shut your sketchpad, an action with such a hurried motion you nearly ripped one of the pages, and stood, bowing to the taller boy.

"I am (l/n) (f/n)," you said calmly. "It is a pleasure to meet you. My talent is the Ultimate Traditional Artist."

When you straightened, he stared at you with that taciturn smile before seeming to snap out of it.

"A traditional artist, I see. It is, at least, more use then my own title. I'm the supposed Ultimate Lucky Student of this class. Pleasure to meet you, (l/n)-san."

"You can drop the -san."

"Very well, (l/n)."

"And your name...?"

"Ah, pardon me. I forgot to introduce myself... My name is Komaeda Nagito, though it is of no importance."

You sat back down again, lifting your sketchbook to your nose, peering over the edge at Nagito, your eyes trained on every detail of his face, hair, neck, and shoulders, to absorb every detail when you drew him later.

His attention was drawn to the door, as was yours, but the instant you saw the spiked brown hair, you jumped up, rushing to the door.

"Hajime!"

Wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug, taking notice of how the bigger gap in your height difference, you pouted as you pulled away.

"(f/n)," Hajime greeted with the cock of his head and a slight smile.

"Why'd you grow taller during the summer?"

"How should I know?" He replied, and you tugged at the fabric of his tie before stepping back and looking up at him.

Forgetting Nagito was there temporarily, you turned, then bit your lip. "Ah, before you assume anything, we're not in a relationship..."

"Of course I didn't assume- that would be wrong of trash like me to do something human. After all, my life is just mere compared to the rest of the Ultimates..."

You frowned. "Komaeda...? Why are you trash-talking to yourself?"

"It's not like my existence matters," Nagito replied simply, then turned away from you.

Hajime placed a hand on your shoulder, guiding you back to your seat as the others students started to fill one, walking in a line into the classroom like ducklings behind their mother.

As your gaze skimmed over them- there was a girl with dyed hair and horns, as well as a quite tall man with dark hair and scars on his face- it was a flock of pigeons, all different colors yet the same.

But there was nothing else you wanted to draw more then Komaeda Nagito.

So you did.

As time flew by, as months trickled down, you filled the rest of your sketchbook, and was almost half way through your seventh. The pages were filled with sketches of your classmates.

There were dozens of all different people- Pekoyama Peko, with her intimidating gaze, Tsumiki Mikan and her choppy hair, Tanaka Gundam with his fancy do and hamsters- all your classmates had a strange aura to them, yet somewhat comforting.

But that wasn't all.

It was Nagito who dominated most your pages. Him wearing his hoodie (which he did occasionally) with a large '55' blazed in red on its' back, him and his distant smile, him against the background of the window, looking towards Fuyuhiko as he discussed their topic in a rational tone.

Nagito and his lean frame, long limbs, and those almost-creepy-looking pale eyes.

Through the months, you mind decided to have a terrible, terrible, terrible crush on him, a crush that you would rather wait on from afar then get close to Nagito. And good god, was he a beautiful human being, both inside and out to others.

Everything about him seemed to come together to create a picture of an angel, but you knew that Nagito still talked trash about himself, didn't view himself as a human being, and seemed more broken inside then fixed.

There were chills you got whenever he offered that gentle smile to you- it reminded you of shattered, stained glass. A whirlwind of different emotions and colors, combined together to create a beautiful picture, and people never focused on the individual colors, but the glass as a whole.

You finished the curve of one of the wisps in Nagito's hair, noticing that people had began to slip out of the classroom, Hiyoko and Mahiru chattering (more on the former's part) as they left.

"-(f/n)-chan~?"

You flickered your gaze upwards, biting your lip, almost expecting Hajime, who had been absent nearly the past month when you heard your first name.

Alas, you believed yourself to be stupid in believing so, as the voice was undoubtedly female, and Hajime wouldn't dare add -chan to your name with such a teasing tone.

Mioda Ibuki set her elbows down on your desk, grinning widely. "Ciao, ciao, (f/n)-chan!" She sang. "How are you this wonderful afternoon, 'cause Ibuki's doing great, great, great!"

"I'm fine, thanks for asking," you muttered, gathering up your things, but Ibuki blocked your way, her light, coral-colored eyes bright.

"Why don't you come with Ibuki home? You usually go with Hajime-chan, right? But Hajime-chan's been gone for a veeeeeeeeery long time! So why don't you go with Ibuki?"

You stiffened at the mention of Hajime. He hadn't been picking up your calls, nor answering your texts, and when you checked by his house, either his mom or dad said he 'wasn't available'.

"Mioda-san," a voice cut her off, and you inhaled sharply, recognizing it as Komaeda Nagito himself.

The said student had come up behind Ibuki, placing a hand on her shoulder. "I'm sure she would appreciate you not reminding her of his absence."

Ibuki pouted, still gazing at you with her energetic gaze. "Then (f/n)-chan can come just for fun!"

"Actually..."

You didn't really want to walk with Ibuki- last time you heard, Ibuki had 'blackmailed' Fuyuhiko and Peko into walking with her, and following that, the Ultimate Yakuza was even more outraged then usual, set off even at the slightest thing.

"Um, I have something at my house for Na- I mean, Komaeda, so I need to take him there," you lied through your teeth.

Cocking her head to the side, Ibuki flashed you a wild grin. "O-K! Tomorrow, then, (f/n)-chan~!"

As she left with a bounce in her step, Nagito turned his green-grey eyes to you, raising an eyebrow.

"Something at your house...?" He mused. "You shouldn't of have- I suppose it is a drawing, no...? I don't believe I'm worth drawing..."

You frowned at him. "Can you stop trash-talking to yourself, Nag-" you caught yourself mid-sentence; you had gotten so used to calling him just 'Nagito' in your mind that it nearly slipped. "Komaeda."

"You can call me by my first name if you want," Nagito said. "Anything, really. Whatever you would prefer."

Your (e/c)-colored eyes widened a fraction, shock running through them. "But isn't a first-name basis for close friends?"

"If you consider me one- which I doubt you do- you may call me Nagito," he nodded once, sweeping a lock of white hair out of his eyes.

Your mind flashed to the dozens of sketches of Nagito that you had created, and how you had all titled it with just Nagito.

"Well, it's only fair if you call me (f/n), then," you insisted.

"I couldn't."

"Nagito."

His shoulders squared, and Nagito almost looked like he was regretting allowing you to call him by his first name- it seemed like he wasn't used to it.

"Oh, sorry... do I need to revert back to Komaeda again?"

"No, no, it's just fine. It's been a long time since someone's called me by my first name."

"What about your parents?"

For the briefest of seconds, his eyes drilled into you, moments of strained silence before he answered.

"My parents are dead."

You stiffened automatically, guilt rooting itself in your stomach. "Ah, I'm sorry for bringing it up..."

Nagito offered you another smile, which really should not have made your heart skip several beats. "It's completely fine, (f/n)-san, I've gotten over it by now."

He said your first name.

You exhaled, puffing up your cheeks before grabbing your sketchbook, sliding it into your bag. "You all ready to go?"

Checking over himself one last time before nodding, Nagito followed you out the door.

On the way home, you were sure to avoid showing him the pictures you had drawn of him (besides several of your favorites, both including him in his green hoodie, which he actually had, draped over his shoulder on the walk), but still flipped through your drawings.

"It's evident why you're the Ultimate Traditional Artist," Nagito remarked, admiring a drawing of Nevermind Sonia.

"It's not that good, honestly..."

"Nonsense, (f/n)-san. It's pure, raw talent, an actual talent, unlike my own or Hinata Hajime's himself."

You frowned at the thought. Hajime had informed you that he hadn't been accepted as an Ultimate, but rather a Reserve Course Student.

"Didn't you just tell Mioda not to bring him up...?"

"Ah. Apologizes," Nagito allowed his hand to fall to his side, fingers brushing for the briefest of seconds.

"Oh, I'm here," you stopped, glancing up at the brick walls of your house. "Let me grab you... something..."

You actually didn't have anything, but you could still improvise, right?

"Stay right here, Nagito," you called over your shoulder, to which he replied, but you couldn't hear it. Stealing up the stairs, you rummaged through multiple folders, finally selecting your (f/c) folder and flicking through it.

Your favorite Nagito drawing gazed up at you- the sheen of the graphite in the pencil had caught his eyes perfectly, highlighting the tones in those eyes. Without a second thoughts, you plucked it up out the folder with the thought of 'he deserves this'.

In your pocket, your phone beeped, signaling you had received a text.

With a small amount of hesitation, you flipped open your phone to see the message from one of the underclassmen- Enoshima Junko.

Enoshima: hey girl i just saw something

Enoshima: Hinata dead

You caught your breath.

Enoshima: it just came out that they found some guys body and I think its yurs

Enoshima: haha lol that came out weird ;P didnt finish my sen I mean yur friend

Enoshima: *sent picture message*

Your eyes started to burn as the words jumped out at you.

RESERVE COURSE STUDENT BODY FOUND
CONFIRMED DEAD

In smaller lettering:

Hajime Hinata, a Reserve Course Student, was found dead at 18:03 on Saturday, March 8th. Cause of death is unknown, although the body was burned to almost cinders. Traces of poison were found.

Unable to bring yourself to look at the picture, you lowered your phone, the device slipping out of your hands and falling to the carpet.

You didn't care.

Hajime was dead.

Your childhood friend, someone who you had a crush on in middle school (but got over, thank god, that was awkward), Hinata Hajime, was dead.

And he could have been dead for who-knows-how long.

Sinking to the ground, despair beginning to clog your throat, grief beginning to nip at your heart, a hand- your hand bunches a bundle of folds from your shirt, and you couldn't think because Hajime was dead and you couldn't think straight, but Nagito was still out there waiting for you, and you still couldn't think.

It was as if a good portion of your life had been ripped away in an instant, but in this case, it had, since Hajime had always been there, and he was one of those toothpicks in a tower of toothpicks- you pull him out and it'll all come crashing down.

You suddenly became aware of Junko sending another mocking- what are those called? Emojis?- face to you, and the pressure of trying to survive the next day of school without being questioned repeatedly, and the fact that you could dimly recognize your mom's voice of 'oh, yes, she's upstairs'.

Everything became a blur, but you could make out white peeking into the room.

"(f/n)-san-!"

No, no, crap, he's not supposed to see me like this-

Attempting to rub away the tears that had fallen unnoticed, fallen from the sky that were your eyes, you smiled weakly at Nagito, as if everything was okay and you weren't crying on the floor on your room.

Then: "Enoshima-san delivered the news to you as well, hm?"

You stiffened.

"I knew earlier," he stated with a shrug. "... Just didn't want to tell you. Most the class knew as well, people like Owari, Mioda, and Tanaka didn't know. But she just sent a text to the whole group of Hope's Peak..."

Nagito sighed, the exhale of breathe causing his bangs to ruffle. "I suppose we can use his death to achieve more in his name. Use it to make the beacon of hope shine through Class 77..."

"You say that as if he wasn't even a person!"

Rage, brittle, coarse, surged through you as you were suddenly on your feet, a scorching fire in your soul, intent on burning Nagito to the ground.

His eyes widened and he blinked, the emotion being wiped clean from them.

"I suppose you would defend him," Nagito mused. "You were, after all, friends..."

Hot, angry tears ran down your face, and you didn't understand how he was so calm, this was the death of a student in your class.

"You-!"

Grabbing the tie and yanking him down with you as your knees gave out beneath your, about as solid as jelly, you fell on your butt, one arm propped up behind you and the other hand curled around Nagito's tie.

"H-How... h-how could you say that...?"

Releasing him, you allowed your hand to sweep a lock of hair out of your reddened eyes before propping it up behind you.

The thought of holding yourself up went out the window as you let your arms buckle, bringing you to the ground, flat on your back.

"(f/n)..."

Your name, with no -san added to it, sent chills- good chills, as much as you would hate to admit it, down your spine and neck.

"... I'm sorry. It's terrible of me to refer to your childhood friend is such a way. After all, my comments mean nothing So don't let that get to your inner hope."

You shifted, tilting your head to look at him, him who was crouching with his head cocked, white hair swaying slightly side to side.

"... what am I going to do without Hajime...? I didn't even... see him in a romantic sense, but... he's my best friend-" Was, your mind whispered, but it was too painful to refer to him in past tense. '- and my brother."

There was the sound of feet sliding across carpet, some rustling of folds, and you heart quickened as Nagito's face reappeared just above yours, much closer then you would of had preferred.

"Get up."

"W-What?"

"Get up," Nagito repeatedly simply, blinking rather innocently. "You're not going to let the despair of his death get to you, will you? Instead, why don't you awaken the hope inside of you? This unforgettable, horrid feeling of despair- do you really want to bask in it when you could embrace hope?"

You sat up, swiping a fist across your cheek to quickly (attempt) to rid of dried tears. "... no, I don't want... to feel like this for a long time..."

"Exactly," Nagito nodded. "Would, ah, Hinata-san want you to feel despair?"

"N-No...?"

"Then hold your head up high and shine through this despair!"

You bit your lip, casting a glance at the abandoned phone on the carpet, open and still displaying the newspaper picture.

Hajime...

Nagito...

"Hey, Nagito?"

"Mm?"

You turned your head to the side, only to find that- holy crap, he's so freaking close. He had his hands slid into the pockets of his blazer, head cocked to the side once more. Upon seeing your expression, Nagito chuckled sheepishly and straightened.

"I'm sorry, you don't want trash like me near you, do you?"

"Nagito, I told you to stop trash-talking to yourself..."

You held up your arms, and bewilderment crossed his face, an expression you hadn't seen before on him- pure disbelief.

"Are you going to pull me up?"

Blinking in surprise, Nagito's only response was to hook his wiry arms below yours, pulling you up with an easy tug, stronger then what you had thought.

It was a little awkward for you, as you basically fell into his chest after he released you, and gosh, Nagito was tall, taller then a good portion of the class.

... is that the smell of pine needles...?

Nonetheless, to make it less awkward, you stepped backwards, rubbing at your neck.

"Ah.. sorry... you had to see me like that..."

Nagito offered you another smile- yet, it wasn't his usual smile, the one of a broken boy, but instead a caring one.

"It's fine. We all break, after all."