Hajime felt it the moment he groggily forced open his eyes. Everything hurt. His throat was sore. He overall felt like he couldn't move, and on top of that, he was freezing. No, wait, he was burning alive. He felt like…well, like s**t.

He immediately regretted trying to stand up the second he gave it a nanosecond's forth of effort. Still, he managed to roll out of the bed and onto the hardwood floor. Finally, he abandoned his lazy mindset with one that said, "just get it over with."

Hajime stumbled his way to the kitchen for some coffee and orange juice, in the hopes that it would wake him up, if even a little.

Sadly, after said beverages, Hajime was, yes, a bit more alert, but still feeling no better. Even so, he had to go to school. He hauled himself out the door and towards the prison he called, "Hope's Peak Academy, Reserve Course".

As he passed the main course students on his way in, one in particular stopped him. The Ultimate Nurse, Mikan Tsumiki, had noticed his abnormally flushed face, and asked him to follow her to the infirmary. He obliged, and dragged himself to the main building.

After some basic tests, Mikan diagnosed the painfully average student as having an aggressive cold. She advised that Hajime go home for the day, and he was more than happy to oblige. After the infirmary called his teachers, Hajime opted to take the bus home this time. He was way too tired to walk. He almost fell asleep on the bus, but was back at alert when he felt a pair of eyes on him. A ditzy girl from another high school was ogling at him. He gave her a confused look, and she turned away, blushing.

Finally, he was home, and before he could take off his uniform, he collapsed on the couch and fell asleep.

He didn't know what time it was when he first opened his eyes halfway. Later, after a few minutes of laying still and feeling miserable, he decided to get up and take some medicine.

Glancing at the kitchen clock, Hajime saw it was 12:37. Saw, not comprehended. His usually articulate mind was squeezed to a pulp at the moment by raging headache.

His "thought" was interrupted by the sound of a growling stomach. Should he have soup? Nah, he hated that stuff. You know what? Screw it. He wanted pizza. Reaching down into the freezer to grab the frozen food, he was painfully reminded of how much his joints hurt, particularly in his back. He winced a little, and stood back up straight.

After he started the oven and set a timer, Hajime slunk to his room and put on sweats, a drastic improvement from the stuffy, stiff suit he had on previously. Something about it made him want to drop on the floor, unconscious. Staggering down the hall, he heard the oven beep.

A mediocre lunch, and about 10 short naps later, Hajime was beginning to feel a little better. Now, he sat upright, a blanket draped over his shoulders, as he flipped through the channels on the TV. He sniffled a bit as his blurry vision tried to read the channel names.

"Just 4 easy payments of—"

"Maria, ¿cómo pudiste—"

"I'll get you, you wascawwy—"

Yawning out of boredom, Hajime decided on sticking to a random infomercial talking about some blender. Before he could hear the uppity salesman shout about the speed of the blades, there was a knock at the door.

"Come in…" he rasped, not realizing how hoarse his voice had gotten from not talking all day.

A few seconds after, a tuft of snowy white hair popped through the doorway. "Hajime? I'm coming in…" a soft voice warned.

"Oh…hey."

"You don't sound so good, Hajime. How are you? Are you gonna be okay?"

"I've been better." The ill student groaned, rubbing his head slowly as he stood up.

"I can tell." Nagito stared at the brunette.

"What are you staring at?"

"I just don't think I've ever seen you in informal attire before."

Hajime stared perplexed. "Ugh. Why are you even here anyway?"

"I just came by to drop off the assignments you missed."

"…You're not even in the reserve course."

"I'm aware…I just thought helping you would provide a use for a worthless piece of scum like me."

Hajime wasn't awake, comprehensive, or patient enough to deal with Nagito's self-deprecation. He just tuned out the insults the silverette inflicted on himself, and picked up the stack of paper and books from Nagito as he continued to ramble about how much he hated himself.

"Thanks, man."

"…And if only someone were to—oh, you're quite welcome, Hajime…If someone were to stomp on myblah blah blablahblah…blah blah blah blah blah? Blah!"

Hajime almost laughed out loud as he imagined a giant megaphone replacing Nagito's head and making incomprehensible sounds like, "Wah, wahwah wah…"

"Heh…heh-heh…"

"Blah—..? Hajime? Are you alright? Say something!"

From that point on, Hajime's vision blurred, and the last thing he remembered was the unforgiving feeling of solid wood against his face.

…

…"—ear me? Hajime?!"

The aforementioned boy sat up, groaning in discomfort. He really needed some Advil. But before that, why was Nagito all in his face?

Hajime groggily pushed the luckster aside, and rubbed his head again.

"Whuh 'appened?" He slurred.

"Oh." Nagito sat up, giving Hajime some much-needed personal space to breathe. "You collapsed. I carried you to your bed because you looked kind of uncomfortable on the floor."

"You WHAT?!" Hajime shouted, but faded into a coughing fit that clawed at the walls of his throat.

Nagito rubbed the back of the student who was now hacking up a lung. He acted as if he was very concerned about Hajime, but the tone in his voice sounded more worried about justifying his questionable behavior. "I couldn't just leave you in a heap on the floor!"

"KOFF-KOFF! You didn't have to CARRY me!" Hajime choked.

"Well, I didn't want to hit your head on that step in the living room, and it wasn't even that bad! You're not as heavy as some of my classmates are…"

"Is…carrying unconscious people a hobby of yours?!"

"Well, I wouldn't call it a hobby, but—"

"Dude, I was being sarcastic! How long have you been here anyway? The sun is setting!"

"Hm…about half an hour,"

"What were you doing in that half hour?! Just staring at me?!"

"Well, I wasn't going to go rummaging through your house!"

"You could've left!"

"I still had to give you those assignments!"

"Has it ever occurred to you to just LEAVE THEM HERE?!"

"I wanted to make sure you were okay! You scared me!"

Hajime muttered something under his breath, and finally got up and turned to face Nagito.

"As long as you're here, do you want something to eat?" He asked, exasperation dripping from his tone.

"You don't need to go out of the way for someone like—"

"Yeah, yeah, someone like you, now do you want food or not?" His patience was wearing thin…very rapidly. "I have food from earlier today. It's not ideal, but—"

"Oh, no need to worry about 'ideal'! I will eat anything! Even my own—"

"Stop…stoprightthere." Hajime dragged his feet as he trekked to the kitchen to reheat the pizza.

A few minutes later, he came back with the food. Nagito was sitting in the exact same chair by the bed, legs crossed, as if he hadn't moved a muscle the whole time.

"Ah, thank you, Hajime! How hospitable of you!"

Part of Hajime wanted to growl at him, "Just shut up and eat.", but he decided against it. Instead, he just muttered, "Uh-huh…sure…"

They ate in silence for what seemed like an eternity, apart from the occasional dry cough from Hajime, until, finally, Nagito broke the silence with a generic question, as he always did when conversations took a turn for the more awkward.

"So…you like green peppers?" He asked, asking the first thing that came to his mind as he stared at the pizza.

"Are you saying you don't?" Hajime looked up.

"O-Oh, of course not! I was just curious…"

"Oh. Well…I honestly don't really care about peppers, but my parents like them, so…here we are…" He trailed off.

"I see. What things DO you like on pizza?"

"Hm…I dunno. I kind of like pepperoni. What about you?"

"I like greens. Spinach, the works…"

"Huh…I don't think I've ever—…huh—…HUH-CHOO!" Hajime sneezed uproariously.

"Are you alright?" Nagito asked, a hint of panic in his voice.

"Just friggin' copacetic." He moaned, as he wiped his nose with his sleeve.

"Here, I'll get that box of…"

"I can take care of myself!"

Nagito froze. "You're right…sorry…I'll leave, now."

"I didn't mean to—"

"No, no, I understand! you need rest! Thank you for having me over…"

"…Sure. Thanks for dropping off those assignments."

"Of course."

As soon as he heard the door close, Hajime collapsed onto his pillow. He caught something green out of the corner of his eye.

'Ah, that's Nagito's jacket…' he thought, but before he could get up to give it to Nagito, unconsciousness hit him like a wave, and he was in a deep sleep in seconds.

SOME TIME LATER…

"Pardon me, Hajime…I forgot my…" Nagito started, waltzing into the room. He stopped in complete silence as he saw Hajime passed out on the bed, breathing slowly. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Nagito was almost mesmerized by the smooth rising and falling of Hajime's chest. He was brought back to earth when Hajime stirred, flipping over in bed.

'I better get going…' Nagito thought to himself, grabbing his coat, andtip-toeing out of the room. With that, he started back to his home, leaving behind the sound of Hajime's soft snoring.