Nagito gets nightmares about his past and everything he caused because of his Lucky ability. Hajime and Chiaki help him.

TRIGGER WARNINGS:
-slight self-harm
-some torment/bullying

Part 1

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It wasn't often he'd get like this but, when it happened, he was plagued for a long time. He suffered from long panic attacks, which were adjoined by nightmares, which were adjoined by hallucinations. His Ultimate Talent allowed him to have small breaks in between each 'session with the crowd' (as he liked to call it), but it didn't help much. The most recent class trial and execution - Peko Pekoyama's execution and Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu's self-caused near-death - had just caused him to enter that state, their desperate interactions reminding him of an occurrence during his childhood.

He was currently in his room, sitting on the windowsill. His grey eyes were glued to the sea that glistened in the moonlight, watching the waves splash and take over the sand, leaving behind wet sand. The window was open, and the faint sound of the large body of water relaxed him slightly. Not much, though.

He was dreading falling asleep, knowing what would come soon. If only he could ask Mikan for help, but he didn't want to waste the Ultimate Nurse's time or their limited resources on a useless piece of trash like him.

Laughing airily, he tried rubbing the sleep out of his dull eyes.

"C'mon. I can't fall asleep." He scolded himself, lightly slapping his sickly-pale cheeks.

"Hey!" A loud, high-pitched voice woke him up slightly, diverting his attention from his own meaningless problems and onto the dual-coloured bear in the middle of his room. "Nagito! What'cha up to?"

"Oh, hello Monokuma." His soft, gravelly voice greeted the class' prisoner.

"Answer my question!" The bi-coloured bear shouted, waving his arms about like a petulant child.

"Ahaha. I'm watching the sea."

"And why aren't you sleeping?" The sentient toy asked slightly angrily in an accusing tone, an underlying tone of mischief in his voice. Nagito did not reply. "Answer me!"

"That's not a rule, Monokuma." The white-haired male answered with a smile, tapping the bridge of his nose with his finger.

"Fine, then! Have fun being annoying!" The bear left, leaving Nagito in complete silence.

About a half hour later, the young male fell to the floor, his eyelids falling as he fell asleep.

* * * * *

It was as if he was looking in through a glass wall - or a window. Nagito let a natural fake smile fall onto his lips, vision already blurring with some tears. Hello. It's good to see you again, boy. He thought, forehead pressed gently against the glass, eyes trained on a large, golden-coloured dog.

The dog was large, a thick coat of golden fur giving him a wide appearance. There was a red collar around his neck and he was curled up around a small body. He immediately recognised the form of the child. It was him.

He smiled grimly. He remembered what his extremely early life was like - innocent and happy. The death of his pet had him begin to spiral down a hole of depression and trauma, and had been the catalyst for his 'Ultimate Talent' to set into motion. He had lost a lot of sleep, the same nightmare always waking him up in the middle of the night and the pain from it preventing any further rest.

The child yawned and stretched, awakening the large dog, which proceeded to crane its neck around and give the white-haired child a lick on his cheek. Nagito smiled as his child counterpart laughed at the pet.

"I'm up! I'm up!" The child version of Nagito laughed in an innocent, child-like manner, unspoiled by the cruel world of despair, stretching as he sat up and rubbed at his eyes. He slipped off from his bed, getting dressed in the clothes that were left on the chair in his room, and took his dog with him.

Nagito tensed when he saw his own child form leave the house with the large dog after breakfast and preparation for the day ahead. The scenery changed and revealed what was once his front garden, where the white-haired child laughed loudly as he was either chased by or was chasing the golden-furred dog in their game of 'it', then watched them play catch with a bright-green tennis ball in a game of 'catch'. Nagito's brows furrowed and tears began to fall, his teeth gritting as his smile wavered. His breathing quickened and the pain in his chest increased when he saw the faint truck in the far distance.

The child version of Nagito paused when the dog didn't catch the ball, which - instead - proceeded to bounce across the road onto the other side of the neighbourhood. The child groaned when he saw the dog begin to bound towards the opened gate to collect his toy. Running to catch the dog before he went too far, he exclaimed: "Hey, wait!"

The child called out the dog's name, trying to get him to run over to his side like he usually does, but to no avail. The golden-furred dog simply collected the tennis ball from the other side of the street, while the child remained in front of the gate (his parents never allowed him to cross the street on his own) and waited.

Nagito nearly screamed when he saw the distance of the truck. Tears were flowing down his face, now, brows scrunched in pained melancholy. He gripped his t-shirt over his painfully-tight heart, his left hand banging on the glass desperately.

"Watch out for the truck!" He cried desperately when he saw his old pet happily trot onto the street, tennis ball in mouth, only for a large truck to quickly block the sun from the dog's view. He turned to look at the large truck in what seemed like slow-motion (slightly reminding Nagito of those scenes in movies of a person's final moments, much to his sad amusement), only to let out a loud whine and cry when he was hit hard by the vehicle. Nagito's scream accompanied his child form's and the loud horn of the vehicle, concocting a loud, messy symphony of melancholy.

The child screamed the dog's name, disregarding all rules his parents laid out to him about road safety, and proceeded to run over to his fatally-injured pet, running past the tennis ball that was bouncing and rolling away - the only thing that got out of there the same way it got in, Nagito observed bitterly.

A slight whisper of the dog's name escaped the child's mouth and that was the moment that the glass wall seemed to come down. Nagito's body lurched forward, joining his child counterpart in going to the dying dog's side. The dog he'd had since he was a toddler whined in pain, causing more tears to escape both of the Nagitos' eyes. The child screamed in melancholy, his hands running through crimson-stained golden fur.

"Don't die. Please don't die. You were never a pet to me! You're my best friend! Please! Don't go!" The child ignored the adults that had come to him - consisting of the driver, his parents and a servant - and buried his face in the dog's matted fur. "I need you! Don't leave me!" In one last moment of living, the dog reached up to his owner's face and gave a small, weak lick to the boy's blood-covered cheek, as if telling him to live on and not lose hope.

Nagito screamed, sobbing loudly at the memory. It was his first ever exposure to true despair, and he was re-living it. He didn't want this. He didn't want any of this! He wanted his best friend back! he wanted to feel his fur under his hand again. To cuddle with him again. To just see him one more time without it being in the form of a nightmare. To see the only friend he'd ever had.

Was that really too much to ask for?

The scenery changed again, plunging Nagito into complete darkness for nearly a minute and leaving him weeping into himself, muttering his beloved dog's name over and over. The surroundings changed to the inside of a plane and, instead of being stuck behind a glass wall, he was now in the passenger seat of the memory - literally.

Nagito could remember this. He hated this memory. It was the day he truly lost everyone. That he had killed everyone.

He looked through the eyes of his younger self, watching his mother happily as she spoke briefly with her husband, then looked back at Nagito.

"Have you fastened your seat-belt, Nagito?"

"Yep!" The boy spoke in the voice he once had. The one he would never have again. Ever. He wanted to cry, seeing the face of his parents. The ones he had lost during his elementary years. The ones he missed dearly.

He could clearly remember the turbulence of the plane as it was hijacked.

He could clearly remember the face of the hijacker.

He could clearly remember the fear amongst the passengers of the plane - of his parents.

He could clearly remember the sudden pit in his stomach.

He could clearly remember the screams of panicking passengers that were suddenly cut off by shock and surprise as a small meteor shot through the plane.

He could clearly remember the dead hijacker's expression - wide-open mouth and eyes, and blood leaking from the hole in the side of his head.

He could clearly remember the way his parents looked after that meteor was done with them.

His parents.

The ones who'd taken care of him his whole life.

The ones he had just witnessed die.

Because of him.

The blood pooled beneath their heads, the puddle extending to his small, clothed feet like a crimson river.

His mind and body were numb then, and they were numb now.

He was numb to the panicking and shock of the other passengers.

Numb to the salty tears that fell down his face.

Numb to the hysterical scream that erupted from him, his knees giving out as he sunk to the ground.

Numb to the blood-soaked pants he was wearing as his hands covered the sides of his head, tightly gripping his soft, white hair in stress that no child should ever have to feel.

Numb to the crimson liquid that ran down his face when he lifted his head.

He couldn't feel anything.

Not sadness.

Not pain.

Not hate.

Nothing.

He was just numb.

"It's your fault." Came the voice of his mother.

"I know." Nagito whispered, unaware and uncaring of the tears cascading down his face.

"If trash like you hadn't been born, we wouldn't be dead." Came the voice of his father.

An angry growling came from the darkness. Nagito's face scrunched up from the tears that came out and he watched with blurry vision as his best friend ran up to him - snarling - and proceeded to latch onto his thin, bony arm. Blood ran down from the bite wound, dripping down into inky darkness.

"I know you hate me, boy. I'm sorry. God, I'm so sorry." Nagito sobbed brokenly, running his left hand through golden fur as his right one fell limp from the dog tearing into muscle and nerves. His right arm remained a limp, bloody mess, but the dog continued to wave his head around, desperate to rip the limb off.

Nagito's left hand reached over and began to run through the animal's soft fur.

"You're a good boy, and I love you. I miss you, and I wish you were here with me." Allowing the dog to continue ripping into his arm despite the burning pain, Nagito sunk down and gave the dog a hug like he would when he was a child. He loosely wrapped his left arm around the dog's torso and buried his face into the dog's fur. "I miss you." He repeated. "And I know worthless garbage like me doesn't deserve to miss you, but I do, and I'm sorry for that, and everything I've done. It's all my fault."

"It's all your fault!" The whispered words of many different voices joined together, the volume making Nagito hiss and cry out in sudden pain as his left hand flew to cover his ear.

* * * * *

Nagito's eyes snapped open, finding himself laying on a carpeted wooden floor. He didn't move for a while. He simply lay there, unmoving and uncaring about the cold air nipping at his bare legs and arms.

"Ha." A quiet laugh shook his shoulders, hands reaching up to grab at his arms. A string of laughter erupted from him, thin fingers entangling themselves in long, white hair, pulling on them painfully as tears ran down his deathly-pale cheeks. His nails raked from his scalp and down his cheeks, the stinging just barely working to distract him. He couldn't feel anything - he was numb. He was numb to anything other than the pain.

Nagito began to hit his head against the wall beside him, laughing all the while and digging his nails into his upper-arms, dragging them down to his elbows and leaving angry red cuts along the pale skin.

"It's your fault." The voices of his parents whispered in his ears constantly, causing his laughter to increase in volume and the lump in his throat to get bigger. More tears fell down his face and he continued to throw his head against the wall. He continued to do so until he became dizzy and remained panting on the floor, arms burning from the scratches. His unfocused eyes looked up into the corner of his room, feeling a gaze land on him. He saw three figures: his dead dog and dead parents. His parents watched him with an uncaring expression, his golden-furred dog simply sitting there, still. The three walked forward, never breaking eye contact with haunted and tear-filled grey eyes. Nagito's mother kneeled down, gently placing her fingers under his chin and pulling his face up, softly brushing her other hand against his crimson-lined cheeks, digging her nails into the scratches and making Nagito wince softly. She had a sickly sweet smile on her face as she leaned down to whisper into his ear.

"It's your fault."

"Yes! I know!" Nagito's face scrunched up as more tears fell. "And I'm sorry..." He curled up into a ball, burying his head into his arms. In the silence, Nagito managed to stop his tears to the point where he simply sat breathing heavily with wide-open eyes. His breathing filled his ears to the point where it drowned out every other sound.

Nagito flinched away and slapped the small hand that was gently placed on his head, quickly moving back and hitting his back against the edge of his window-sill. He hissed at the pain in his back and blinked multiple times as he looked at the small, blurry figure in front of him.

"Don't touch me!" He yelled, vision still blurry with tears and stress. The hand stopped its movement and instead fell back to the owner's side.

"Nagito-kun..." The soft voice of the other bear plush came. She watched him with a nervous and concerned gaze, wanting to help him but not sure how. "It's okay. You're okay. Nobody will hurt you." Monomi settled for trying to comfort him.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." Nagito murmured, gripping his bony arms tightly, focusing on the pain. He stared at his feet, but quickly shut his eyes tightly and brought his legs closer to him when he saw a puddle of red blood extending towards him, the crimson liquid touching his feet.

After a few minutes of reluctantly-received comfort from Monomi, Nagito managed to mostly calm down. He sighed softly and shakily, wiping his eyes with the palms of his hands. The white-haired boy looked at the stuffed bear, who smiled gently, pawing her hands together.

"Do you feel like getting some breakfast? The others are wondering where you are."

"Really?" Nagito asked slowly, red, puffy eyes narrowing. "They're wondering where someone like me went?" He laughed, then stood up, shaking his head and quickly turning away when he saw the blood-covered dog lying on his bed. I'm so sorry, buddy. He squeezed his eyes shut, entering his bathroom. "Tell them I'll be right there." The male instructed through the door.

"All right." He listened for a few more moments, hearing silence, and assumed she'd left. Nagito sighed and leaned against the sink, looking up at the mirror. He scrunched his eyebrows together, reaching up with his hand and wincing softly when he touched the bright-red cuts he'd made on his face. He also realised that he'd made a slightly-red mark on his forehead after hitting it on the wall harshly. He grimaced at the sudden throb of pain on the side of his head, and cringed at how red and puffy his grey eyes were from crying. He almost reeled back at the angry and nearly-bleeding cuts he'd made on his arms. He'd never been this bad before...

Nagito sighed. It was probably because he didn't have his meds on this damn island.

"I'll have to fix myself up quickly." He splashed slightly-cold water on his face, washing it lightly and ignoring the stinging from the red marks on his face. He contemplated putting a plaster on it to hide the scratches, but changed his mind when he realised it wouldn't matter either way. With the plaster on, he'd be making this a lot bigger of a problem than it actually was, and with it off he'd just be able to say that he'd been scratching his cheek too hard. He did - though - roll up a thin layer of bandages onto his arms to stop his jacket from rubbing uncomfortably against the scratches.

Nagito quickly brushed his naturally-messy hair and made sure his eyes were no longer red, got dressed and slipped on his jacket as his thin frame slithered through his cottage door. When the bright light of the sun shone brightly on his face, his face scrunched up in response. Slowly getting used to the light - which, luckily, woke him up - Nagito made his way towards the restaurant.

As he walked along the pathway, Nagito clenched his fists tightly as he was constantly bombarded with insults and angry shouts from people that fell victim to his own so-called 'talent'. His hands shook, nails digging into the palms of his pale hands, and kept his eyes directed at the pavement.

"You should've died instead!" A voice exclaimed, the anger being completely projected at Nagito.

"I shouldn't have tried to help you." Another voice hissed. "Maybe then, I'd still be alive."

Nagito sighed softly in relief when it suddenly went silent, his hands relaxing and nails being removed from skin, leaving small crescent-shaped cuts in the palms of his hands. Thinking they'd all left him for a while, he looked up and immediately stopped, eyes going wide for a moment, lips parting to whisper a name.

"Togami-kun." He whispered in surprise, shoulders tense as he stared at the large man's figure a few feet in front of him.

"I died protecting you." His smooth voice spoke, not quiet, but not loud either. He pushed his glasses up and adjusted his pale blazer. "You were going to kill someone. I died protecting a murderer."

The white-haired male swallowed slowly, then exhaled softly, his posture changing - becoming calmer. His expression changed from stressed and scared to calm and unfeeling.

"You didn't have to do that. I would've been fine dying and being the stepping stone for all of your hope." Nagito's face gained a wide grin, hands extending to his sides to exaggerate his sentence. He started laughing quietly, shoulders shaking as he folded his arms, the memories of the deaths of his parents and beloved pet dog flashing through his mind. "I always have been." The white-haired male added quietly with a sad smile.

"You would have deserved it, you know." Byakuya spoke as if they were having a casual conversation, not an ounce of anything on the blond's large, round face.

"I know." He said it so simply, talking with the Ultimate Affluent Progeny as if they were talking about nothing more than the weather. Walking past the large blond, Nagito said: "Now, I'm sorry, but I have to go."

"Just remember not to waste anyone else's time or life." Then silence.

When the grey-eyed male turned around, he saw no-one. Ignoring it, Nagito continued his trek to the restaurant.

When he climbed the stairs and walked up into the large dining area, he saw everyone's heads turn as the chatter stopped.

"Hello everyone!" He exclaimed happily, a smile clinging to his face as he waved happily at the downcast people in the restaurant. He received stares - some of which were glares - but ignored them. Walking over to the food, Nagito put a small amount of food onto a plate and went to sit by himself. The male slowly nibbled on his meal, running on autopilot.

"-da."

"-omaeda."

"Komaeda!"

"Ah! Sorry, Hinata-kun. What were you saying?" Nagito quickly responded, blinking when he saw the people behind the brunet. He quickly looked back down at his food and closed his eyes, leaning his head against his hand.

"I wanted to know if you were okay. You're paler than usual and your cheeks have scratches."

"Oh, that. My cheek was itchy this morning, and-" When Nagito looked down, he nearly flinched at the sight of the golden-furred face of his dead dog sticking his head out from under the table, placing it on his lap. The white-haired boy's grey eyes were glued to the dark-red blood that dripped onto his lap, sliding down and turning the red material of the seats darker. He swallowed, looking back up at the brunet sitting across from him, and the many people that stood around them now, mouths beginning to open in an onslaught of insults and curses. "-a-and I scratched a bit too hard. I'm sorry, Hinata-kun, but I have to go."

Leaving his plate on the wooden table, Nagito quickly ran to the staircase and ran down, then proceeded to sprint to his cottage, salty tears being pushed along his face as his hands went to grab his long hair, muttering quiet apologies along the way, and ignoring the large figure of Byakuya standing by his door.

He ran in and slammed the door.

* * * * *

Hajime Hinata remained sitting on the seat, watching Nagito run home through the large window. Just before he'd left, the brunet hadn't missed the small flinch and stutter the other had produced. It concerned him. He wasn't acting as he usually was, worrying him.

A normal Nagito Komaeda was something to be worried and scared about. One that wasn't acting normally was most definitely worse - especially when considering the fact that he was suspiciously good at hiding how he felt and what he was thinking.

Chiaki Nanami walked up to him, a concerned look on her face (well, as concerned as is visible).

"I take it it didn't go well?" Her soft voice questioned, yawning into her hand.

"...No. I guess not." He bit his lip, thinking back to the slight widening of the male's eyes. His expression was...haunted. "He didn't look right."

"When does he ever?" Kazuichi Soda commented, leaning on the backrest behind Hajime with his arm slung over the top. "The guy's a freak. It's best if we avoid him - he's probably plotting something again."

"Soda, that's not very nice!" Monomi suddenly popped up, arms out with an annoyed look on her face. "You should apologise!"

"Hell no!" He squawked, recoiling like he'd just been burnt. "It's true!"

As an argument began, Hajime shook his head and stood, gesturing for Chiaki to follow him. He looked at the others, who seemed to be discussing opinions on the hope-obsessed male, unless they'd already moved on to another topic. The brunet looked at the pinkette.

"Do we do anything about Komaeda?" He asked her quickly. The girl put a finger to her chin and tapped twice, then looked into Hajime's green eyes.

"I think the real question is...'does he want anything to be done for him'?" She put on her hood, still looking at the taller male.

"Komaeda...he doesn't really talk about himself." Hajime paused. "And when he does, he always refers to himself as trash and worthless. I'm pretty sure that even if he wants help, he'll say he doesn't and try and get rid of us."

"We should still go over and make sure he's okay."

Hajime nodded, sneaking out of the restaurant with Chiaki (which they really didn't have to try hard to do). The two began to walk to the white-haired male's cottage in silence. At the entrance to the cottage area, Monokuma popped up with a small 'puhuhu'.

"Monokuma!" Hajime exclaimed in surprise, taking a step back. He tensed in preparation for anything the bear may try to do.

"Oh, don't be so dramatic! I'm just here to wish you luck!" The monochromatic bear laughed, disappearing from sight, and leaving the two worried and confused.

"'Wish us luck'? What's that supposed to mean...?" Hajime whispered in growing worry and dread. What the hell is wrong with Nagito?

"I don't know, but I have a feeling we should hurry." She told him with furrowed brows.

The two quickly ran towards the cottage and flinched at the sounds coming through the door. The curtains were closed, so they couldn't peak inside. The only thing they could do was...open the door. Hajime breathed in deeply and then exhaled, holding the handle, then opening it.

"Oh my god - Nagito!" Was the first thing that left his mouth, shocked at the sight that greeted him and Chiaki.