Hajime can feel his hands itching to move, even when the rest of his body is completely still. He cracks his fingers, flexes them in and out, picks at dead skin. He can't seem to stop. His fingers are always covered in bandaids.
He supposes he'd rather deal with bandaids on his fingers than thin red lines and sharp objects. It's crossed his mind, more than once, but somehow he holds it back. Holds back the unending apathy that he knows comes from Izuru and the unrelenting anger that comes from his own terrible personality. The irritation that comes with both of them is almost a free bonus.
Somehow, he's standing in the bathroom. He doesn't remember walking there, barely remembers leaving the restaurant when they had all had breakfast.
Chiaki would say that he was like an NPC, sometimes. Automatic responses, fake laughs at whatever was said, even when he only caught the last half of the sentence.
Thinking about Chiaki was a mistake. He puts his hands on the cold ceramic of the sink, wanting to slam his hands against it. He can feel a prick of concern in the back of his mind, likely from Izuru.
He does not think about the six different objects in the bathroom that he could hurt himself with. Scissors, razor, broken glass. Sharp plastic, shower rod, broken ceramic. Shatter the mirror shatter the mirror just slam your hand against it just do it see what happens see the mirror pieces fall onto the floor and then just pick them up and see what happens, clench your fingers around them just do it right now-
Hajime.
Hajime does not break the mirror. He lets his hands move, one finger at a time. Crack, crack, crack. Keeps doing the motion even though his fingers stop cracking.
Izuru sits close to the surface, ready to intervene. Hajime struggles against it, his hands shaking against the sink. The mirror is right there, he's looking right at it, he can see his mismatched eyes crystal clear, his hair that's getting too long, the shirt he's been wearing for two days now.
Do not break the mirror. Leave the bathroom.
Hajime stands there for a second or two longer, before easy compliance falls over him like a curtain. His shaky legs somehow carry him outside of the bathroom and outside of his cottage on autopilot. He sits down on the front boardwalk, legs splayed out in front of him.
You are dissociating. If you need me to front-
I'm right here. I'm fine.
You are not fine. When was the last time you ate something?
Hajime thinks about it for a second. Probably this morning, when he went to breakfast.
Coffee is not eating.
He's not sure how long he sits there before someone comes across him, probably on the way to their own cottage.
"Hajime? Are you alright?"
Hajime looks up. Blonde hair, red shoes. A girl.
Sonia, Izuru helpfully supplies.
"Hey, Sonia. Yeah, I'm fine." Hajime says a moment too late, finally registering what she said. The sun is too bright, and Sonia is only blocking half of the light. The sun bears down on them, hot on the island, ever present.
"Are you sure?" She asks, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "I was going to the restaurant for dinner, would you like to come with me?"
"Sure, that sounds great." Hajime isn't even sure who's in control right now, but somehow he's on his feet and walking with the princess to the restaurant. He doesn't know what time it is, doesn't know when he came outside to sit on the boardwalk.
It's 5:36. You went outside at 2:12.
Hajime isn't sure how Izuru even knows that. He's pretty sure he hasn't seen a clock since this morning.
Belatedly, he realizes Sonia is trying to ask him a question.
"Sorry, what?" He asks.
"I said, how was your day?" She says, and Hajime takes a moment to realize he doesn't remember much of it.
You were going to break the mirror and then moved to sit outside.
Izuru sounds annoyed. Then again, that could just be his normal voice. Hajime can hardly read people anymore.
"It was good." Hajime lies, and they are in front of the restaurant. He can feel his stomach twist, nauseous at the thought of food, even though he's hungry.
Dinner is easy enough to choke down, easy enough to just chew and try not to think too hard about it. Hajime almost feels bad, with how proud Teruteru seems to be.
Akane will hopefully make up for Hajime's apathy. She always seems to eat more than she can handle.
A twinge of Izuru's exasperation goes through him.
Akane is dealing with an eating disorder.
Oh, yeah.
Dinner is full of noise. Hiyoko making comments at Mikan's expense, Ibuki being loud with dumb jokes, Kazuichi complaining about broken circuits.
Hajime finds himself participating in conversation, but honestly, he isn't really sure what's coming out of his mouth. It's empty, devoid of any real interest.
If anyone notices, they don't say anything. He catches Nagito staring more than once, but that's not all that unusual.
He's concerned about you.
He's just being weird.
Izuru doesn't reply, but Hajime can feel the annoyance. Can feel everything from today. His legs are cramping from sitting in the same spot for three hours, he has a headache (when was the last time he drank something?) and he's overheated from sitting in the sun all day.
Once dinner ends, Hajime just goes back to his cottage, even though some of the others make plans. Fuyuhiko invites him to come, but he declines, giving an excuse about being tired.
He's not really physically tired, but his own deteriorating mental health makes it so he's always drained, from simple tasks like brushing his teeth every day, to harder things like helping Kazuichi fix the electricity for one of the islands.
It's only when Hajime stares at the scissors on his bedside table for a little too long that he realizes what's happening.
"Ugh." Hajime puts his head in his hands, closing his eyes and letting the oppressive heat inside of the cottage wash over him. It's hot, making his brain work slowly and his clothes restrictive and uncomfortable.
He doesn't know when it happens, but the scissors are suddenly in his hands, even though he doesn't really remember reaching for them.
Just once, right? Just so he can ground himself, clear his head.
Hajime. No.
It will help.
Hajime argues with Izuru, but eventually, he puts the scissors down, without hurting himself. He can feel tears starting to well up in his eyes. It would be the first time he's cried in months.
They're angry tears. Anger at himself, at Izuru, at the situation he finds himself in.
Hajime leaves his cabin, angry at both everything and nothing. He wants to ruin everything. Break things. Break anything he can get his hands on. Break himself, most of all.
He goes to sit on the beach, watching the waves come in and out. Buries his hands in the sand, feeling the grains of sand move over his fingers.
It helps, kind of, but he really just wants to walk into the ocean and not come back out. Not worry about tomorrow, not worry about anything besides the water and the sand at the bottom of it.
He knows that Izuru would save him, would take control in time so that Hajime wouldn't die, probably wouldn't even get close. But that's not the point. The point is to stare at the ocean and just- think about it.
That's not healthy either, Hajime.
Well, it's better than trying to kill myself.
He stares at the waves crashing for a little bit longer before he stands up and starts heading towards the cottages, a specific destination in mind.
A few minutes pass and he's standing in front of Nagito Komaeda's door, hand raised to knock, but he hesitates. Nagito is dealing with his own shit, he probably doesn't want to deal with Hajime, and Hajime's kind-of-but-not-really suicidal thoughts.
But his only other options are either to go back and sit on the beach (and think about his own death), or go back to his own cottage, with the oppressive heat and the multiple sharp objects that are strewn around for everyday use.
If anyone knew how Hajime was feeling, it would be Nagito.
So, he knocks. He waits a few minutes, and he's about to leave, about to go either find someone else or just suck it up, when the door opens.
"Hajime?" Nagito says, sounding surprised to see him. His white hair is sticking out every direction, as usual, and he's shed his jacket for once, standing in his pants and white tee shirt.
Unfortunately, Hajime has not planned this far ahead. He has no idea what to say. Hi, Nagito, I just want to walk into the ocean until I drown? I want to break everything I own, including myself?
He stands there for a moment, stupidly, and he's about to start crying again, he can feel it building up behind his eyes in and in his throat.
Nagito seems to understand, and pulls Hajime inside.
As soon as they're inside, and Nagito shuts the door and turns toward him, Hajime just lets his head fall against his chest and that's when the tears actually start.
"Please don't make me go back to my cottage tonight." He says, and can feel the uncertain emotions that pass through Nagito at that moment, before he wraps his thin arms around him.
"Okay." Nagito doesn't push, doesn't press for answers. They sit in silence for a while, and then Hajime speaks.
"I'm so tired, Nagito." He says, and Nagito just lets him talk, doesn't say anything. "I'm so tired and there are so many ways to die on this island."
Nagito listens, listens as Hajime tells him about the mirror from this morning and the scissors from earlier. Listens as he tells him about the ocean, about how he doesn't really want to die, but he doesn't want to wake up in the morning and live as himself.
And Hajime, for all his treasured secrecy, for all his ways of keeping things to himself, feels better for having told someone. For having his secret that he is really not okay out.
Hajime knows, knows that everyone on this island would break if one of them were to die. Knows that they're all held together by shared trauma and scotch tape anyways. Knows that everyone is barely holding on, that he's not the only one.
But, fuck, it's so hard. Hard putting on new scotch tape everyday, hard trying to be okay for the rest of his friends.
Nagito listens intently, and if the other boy ends up holding Hajime a little closer, a little tighter than usual, when they drift off to sleep, Hajime pretends not to notice.