“Why? You won’t tell me anything I don’t already know. Besides, isn’t looking bad a good thing for you guys?”
He certainly hoped so. Mikan wasn’t looking too good herself. He thought about making a remark about her appearance, but he didn’t like enabling her despair. It was absolutely vile, after all. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t hate her. After all, all of this was partially her fault, and Junko wasn’t around for him to blame anymore.
Oh wait, yes she was. He lifted her hand, holding it coyly between them.
“Wait, you weren’t missing this, were you? You were really close with her, right? Not planning on stealing her, are you? Or did you just want me to touch you with it?”
You guys, he says. As if he isn’t just as bad as all of them. She can’t help but feel aggravated at his comment. How dare he shoot down her concern! Oh? Was it? Maybe she just wanted to cut into Nagito’s pale skin as see his blood paint it. To see his eyes light up with fear and for him to beg her. Maybe she just wanted him to need her. To give him this wonderful despair that he seems to hellbent on denying he enjoyed. But her eyes are glued to his hand. He didn’t deserve a piece of her beloved. Still, how funny. How hilarious. Komaeda swears he isn’t one of them, and yet he’s mutilated himself to feel closer to her.
“The boy that claims he hates her, hm? Walking around with her hand and feeling powerful because of it.” She muses. “That’s what you wanted it for, right? To finally feel her skin on you? To get yourself off with it since she would never touch someone as disgusting as you while she was alive.” A smile finds its way onto her face as the despair of his situation becomes more clear to her. “You’re like a rapist, but even more pathetic. Tainting her with your blood and everything else. I wonder if you cry or moan when you touch yourself with it.”
She closes the distance between them, allowing his stolen arm to brush against her as she walks beside it. Her cheeks start to heat up as her eyes scan him. The despair of this disgusting boy taunting her. someone that mixed his flesh with the angel of despair. Of her god. And yet, this disgustingly vulgar boy is so lost in denial. She feels bad for him. She gets close enough to feel his warmth against her skin.
“Having her there must cause you so much despair. That’s what really gets you off, right Komaeda-kun?” Slender fingers rest against his chin. “Where’s all that hope, Nagito? Where did it go? I don’t see it in your eyes.” She taunts.
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