In the early stage of your relationship, Nagito was terrified of you leaving him (and he still is, to some degree). He was terrified that if he did anything wrong, you’d realize how awful and terrible and worthless he was and you’d leave him.
It was morning, and it was the first time he had spent the night at your house (already far more than he deserved, as far as he was concerned). The two of you were in the kitchen and you had tasked him with grabbing an extra mug from the cabinet. By some stroke of bad luck, the mug slipped from his hand, shattering on the floor. He was immediately shaking, eyes wide and tears starting to form.
You still remember how he looked at you, then.
You don’t know how to put it in words, but if you had to describe it you’d say it’s probably similar to the expression someone would have as they watched the stars flicker out, that same look of knowing something horrible is coming but knowing you can’t do anything about it.
He started hyperventilating, giving vague pleas between breaths.
“I-I didn’t mean—I’m so sorry, I didn’t—I can-I can fix it, I promise, just please don’t leave-“
He was on his knees now, reaching for the shards of glass with his bare hands.
You quickly knelt next to him, tugging his hands away from the shattered mug so he wouldn’t hurt himself.
“I’m so sorry, please, I can be better, please, please don’t go-“
He wasn’t looking at you, choosing instead to squeeze his eyes shut. You could still see the tears falling freely.
“Nagito, love, it’s okay.”
At this point, you knew well how much he was comforted by touch, so you gently pulled him into you, wrapping your arms around him. He gripped onto your shirt, still terrified of the idea of you leaving, and hid his face in your shoulder. It was as if he was trying to hide from something.
“Please, please don’t leave me, I know I’m-I’m worthless, useless scum but I don’t think—I don’t think I can-“
“It’s okay, Nagito, I’m not going anywhere, alright? It’s just a mug, it’s okay…”
He was still sobbing and shaking in your arms, and all you could do now was hold him close and whisper assurances. You knew of his past, of what he’s been through, and you knew he wasn’t exactly kind to himself, but you never thought he’d think you’d leave him for something so minor as a broken cup. You wonder if there’s a reason he seems to think any mistake will result in you breaking up with him, but ultimately decide that the more important thing right now is making sure he’s alright.
“It’s okay, Nagito, my love, my darling, everything is okay. I’m not mad, alright? I promise. I’m not going anywhere, okay? I don’t care about the mug, I care about you.”
Slowly, ever so slowly, Nagito calms down. He’s still holding onto your shirt for dear life, but he’s no longer trembling or crying.
“I’m sorry to trouble you so much…I really am the worst, huh?”
He does that self deprecating laugh, the one that seems to mock his own misery.
“It’s no trouble, and you aren’t the worst, Nagito. You’re worth so much more than you give yourself credit for, you know?”
There’s a pause as his grip gets impossibly tighter before reluctantly loosening.
“I’ll…I’ll clean up the mess I made and get out of your hair.”
“You’re more than welcome to stay, you know. I’m not gonna force you to if you don’t want to, but I like it when you’re around.”
He laughs again, a bit lighter this time.
“How did I get so lucky?”
“It’s nothing to do with luck. I like you because you’re you, no luck needed.”
And though you might say that, Nagito still feels like he’s the luckiest guy in the world.
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