Death's Harvest | Komahina Fanfic

Chapter 9

The Grim Reaper was fed up with him brushing off the concept of the Afterlife like it was dust on clothing. Hajime needed to change. He was always so cold, so bossy and pushy. The exact opposite of what Nagito liked. This annoyed him even more.

Nagito stared at the steaming cup of tea in front of him, his face reflected on the surface of the green liquid. The steam was turning his glasses foggy. Speaking of change, he too needed to revert his personality back to the way it was before.

"You're getting softer, more compassionate. That's how souls of the dead can see you now," Kirigiri had told him.

How had he not noticed it before? There were frequent heart aches when he saw someone die in front of him, something he had never experienced before.

Nagito snuck a look at Hajime, who was resting peacefully in his futon.

It was all his fault.

It was Hajime's fault everything happened. He was the one who changed him. He was the source of all his troubles. That brown-haired boy who was unfazed by death. The one that he wanted to spark hope in. All his fault.

"Komaeda? Why are you staring at me?" Hajime's voice broke Nagito's train of thought.

"Why can't I?" He snapped with more hostility than he wanted to.

"Didn't I say that I didn't want to go back to Hell? You should have just let me die there." Hajime's eyes narrowed.

Nagito rolled his eyes.

"Why should I listen to you when you never listen to me?" He retorted. "I'm the superior one here."

"Why are you suddenly so rude?"

"Says the one who's always giving a cold shoulder when I'm trying to help you."

"Well, at least I'm not a lowlife servant who's bound to the freaking Afterlife."

"Yes, so what if I'm a lowlife? It's my duty."

"Lowlife. Useless, pathetic, dead human being. A boy with skin as pale as death itself. What did you do? Drown yourself?"

That was it. He had enough. Verbal insults were okay, but the cause of his death was a whole other level. The cage around his rage unlocked, and a rush of heat coursed through his veins. He felt the urge to punch something.

Nagito slammed his hands on the table, spilling his green tea onto the carpeted floor.

"You," He stomped toward the glaring brunet. "You little-"

Nagito attempted to bend over and haul Hajime up by his tie, but before he could do so, a searing pain snaked up his back.

The Grim Reaper gasped in pain, collapsing halfway onto Hajime's lap. His hand flew to the small of his back, and he was suddenly aware of a jagged hole torn in his jacket. His hand surprisingly remained steady as he placed it at eye level. It was stained with red, the liquid sinking into the lines of his palm.

"Komaeda? What the-" Hajime's breath hitched as he saw the blood.

"Here, let me help-" He started, about to stand up to get the first aid kit when Nagito pinned him down.

"I don't need help," the albino seethed as he carefully stood up.

He wobbled to the table, shrugging off his jacket to gain easier access to the wound. He lifted his shirt up and took some gauze and rubbing alcohol, starting to clean his wound. Strips of hot white pain traveled up and down his body as he applied the alcohol, and his arms had to recoil every time the piece of cotton met the wound.