Komahina Oneshots

You've Reached Hinata Hajime!

   (Woo, suicide warning) (This is also kind of a vent oop-)

   Komaeda sighs loudly, staring down at the pile of pills in his hand.

   There's nothing left from him here. The sadness will last forever. There's no purpose for him here on Earth anymore; frankly, he's not sure there ever was. Every day he feels so useless, worthless, like the burden he is. 

   He sees the way his friends and family look at him. Their disappointment whenever he does the slightest thing wrong. The way they look whenever he opens his fucking mouth. How they look at all of his stuff with disgust.

   They'd all be happier if he was entirely out of the picture. With him gone, everyone will be happy.

   He glances at his phone as it lights up with a Mystic Messenger notification, displaying the wallpaper of Komaeda smiling at the camera while Hinata kisses his cheek. 

   Even if he didn't always mean it, Hinata was always there for him, helping him, pretending(?) to love him despite everything. He wants to say goodbye at least and give him an explanation, even if he doesn't care. 

   He opens his phone and stares at the contact page.

'Call Hinata Hajime?'

   He takes a deep breath and hits the button, a trembling hand bringing it up to rest on his ear. 

   Ring Ring!

   His chest hurts so much, and he's tired. He's been tired for so long.

   Ring Ring!

   Half of him actually wants him to pick up and save him. But that's just wishful thinking. 

   'Savemedon'tsavemesavemedon'tsavemestopmestopmestopmedon't-'

   Ring Ring!

      Ring Ring!

         Ring Ring!

   "Hi! You've reached Hinata Hajime! I can't come to the phone right now. I'm probably studying or sleeping, honestly, aha. Please leave a message; I'll clean out my voicemail eventually! Laterz!" 

   BEEP.

   The phone falls from Komaeda's hand, landing on the bed with a soft thud. 

   "Ha. . .Hahaha. . ." His voice is low and shaky.

   Hinata didn't pick up the phone. Hinata either doesn't know he called, or he doesn't care. 

   "That's that, then. . .it's fate. Goodbye."

   He tilts his head back and dumps all of the little capsules in his mouth, washing them all down with a gulp of water.

   He climbs on his bed and lies down on his back, shutting his eyes and waiting.

~

   To whom it may concern,

   I doubt anyone is going to be concerned with this anyway, honestly. How long is it going to take even to find my body? I'm not sure. It doesn't matter anyway; I don't inhabit it anymore anyway.

   I suppose this is the part where I explain myself? What is there even to explain? I see the way everyone looks at me. I see the hatred and the disappointment in my eyes. They see the scars on my wrist and tell me I'm an attention seeker, faking my depression and begging people not to hate me. 

   You see, I've never really fit in anywhere, and I've always felt so lonely. And it won't be long until I'm forgotten completely. Everyone says I should just hold on and keep waiting but it's been ten years and I'm in more agony than ever.

   I go to someone to talk about my problems, and they get annoyed and send me away. No one wants to listen to me, not even my own therapist, I'm sure. If anyone even did care, they'd see I'm far beyond saving anyway. 

   Hinata-kun, if you see this and you even care, I'm sorry. I love you; I always will. I left everything to you, darling, but please at least use at least a third of it for good. Or don't; it's your money and assets now. You're a good person who's going to do so many amazing things, and I'm sorry I'm not going to be around to see it. You're the best friend I've ever had and I love you with all of my heart. You truly meant everything to be. 

   If for whatever reason your heart aches after this, just look at a clover and look at me. Or look up at the clouds and wave. You won't see me but I'll wave to you too. Remember you're never alone.

   Well, this is it. 

   Goodbye, everyone.

   -Komaeda Nagito

~

   Hinata Hajime screams into his pillow, taking out all of his frustration and anger. 

   His body jerks and spasms as he sobs, beating his fists into his mattress. 

   This is all his fault. If he had just been around to pick up the phone, Komaeda most likely still would've been alive and in his arms.

   He can't deny the fact that he was the one who truly killed Komaeda Nagito.

   'Should've picked up the phone, should've been around for the call-' 

   He screams again, setting his throat on fire.

   He's so useless, such a failure. . .

   Maybe he should just die.