Hajime scolded as he tossed the stack of papers into the trash. It had become a habit of his each week. He'd stare at the stacks of desperate letters piling up on his dining room table with pity before chucking them into the trash out of spite. He knew this wasn't healthy. What he was doing, how he was acting. He truly should be ashamed. But he had enough guilt on his back with the demons in him. He didn't need to be busy worrying about other people's opinions when he was so close to just drowning himself in the pool to get this all over with. It was amazing he even got out of bed anymore. He didn't have a reason to anymore. He didn't have a job. He was constantly depressed. Looking at food alone made him nauseous. There was no reason not to just lay in bed and starve to death with his tears as company.

His trash was mostly letters now. Some of them were different colors too. His attention was obviously trying to be caught. It was undoubtedly. That didn't mean he was going to respond however. Every once and awhile, Hajime would reach into the garbage and read one of them. Most of them were left unopened however. He just couldn't stomach the idea of how the desperation probably increased with every envelope. Hajime huffed at the words jumbling up in his head. His thoughts weren't going to leave him alone until he took one of the despondent letters. He picked a soft baby blue out from the garbage and glared at it with a fiery passion.

And so it started. One letter after another for hours. It started off out of curiosity. The first letter Hajime picked out was honestly heartbreaking. For two pages in their entirety just "DO you still love me?" written over, and over, and over again. He managed to find the letter that was dated three days before the last. He opened the pale green paper out of eager confusion. The letter was littered in colors. Every question was just color after color. The questions went back and forth between sentences dripped in depression and futile attempts at love and everyday questions that would fly under the radar.
"How is it? Do you think about me anymore? Have you been eating healthily? Would you still care if I died? Has it been rainy there like it has been here? Are you ignoring me because you want to seem fine or because you don't want to talk to me anymore? Did you receive my letters? Have you started hurting yourself like you always said you'd avoid? Is your roommate good to you? Do you still hold back from killing yourself because of me?"

Hajime was still crying at the table by the time Naegi came home. The smaller man thought about talking to him, asking what the issue was. Then he saw the letters strewn about the floor. He slowly walked back to his room. He knew about the letters. He had read the first few when Hinata had told him that if he made him read any of them he'd get strangled. It broke his heart to read the crushing sadness that only increased with each single note. It was even worse when he realized that the other man writing them was so dead set and stubborn that, even though he didn't ever get a response, he sent them on a schedule. Every Monday and Thursday the letter arrived. And every Monday and Thursday they were ignored and left on the dining table. Naegi couldn't imagine how horrible the letters had reached at this point. They had been receiving them for months now. That's probably why Hinata was crying. The letters must have reached beyond heart-wrenching levels of despair.

Hajime couldn't help the nauseous feeling building up in his stomach. He read countless times that the younger was sorry that he kept writing. That it probably wasn't helping Hajime's depression. That reading that his depression was driving his own partner into a panic wasn't probably the best thing to help him cope. Even with all the apologies and how aware his partner was, he felt like shit reading each letter. Hajime never meant to make this all a mess. He wanted to heal. Find a way to feel better. Instead, he felt more a lone than ever and ended up pushing away everyone. He was shit. Shit with someone obsessing over him even though he had neglected them in a futile attempt to feel joy again.

Hajime emotions with the letters had came in waves. First he was angry. Both with himself and the fool writing these letters. How could he say the horrible things he did and then expect Hajime to be willing to respond or feel happier. Then he felt the hard crushing guilt. He could see, hear the the tears that would flood up as the fool wrote such angsty epistles. The younger fool was falling into a panic, a constant anxiety simply because Hajime thought he deserved time to himself and to be silent. He didn't deserve anything but the pain these letter gave him. The fool would probably argue. Say he was just being a baby and that Hajime deserved as much time as he truly needed. The younger was so predictable. He'd take the blame for everyone so they could live on guilt free. The idiot could get abused maliciously and he'd still say he deserved it and that he was the one who hurt the abuser.

After the guilt and anger was the worst step. The depression. It hit him full force as he went further into the past. The further back he went, the more he saw the young dolt pretending this was normal. That writing and basically talking to himself was a normality in most people's lives. Sometimes, he'd even end up replying to himself. His questions would be directed at Hajime, but he'd answer them himself. Many of the earlier letters were tear stained and crumpled. Some even looked like the fool had considered throwing them away before unfolding them and shoving them in a envelope and putting them on their way regardless. These near-discarded letters were some of the worst. They were raw and reeking of heart ache and longing. The language in these letters was angry and filthy. It was probably why the younger had tried to tell himself the were better left in the trash. He wanted to be the best he could be for Hajime. He wanted to seem calm and collected.

Both kinds of letters were the true showing of the fool's feelings however.

Sometimes the letters even reached sexual places. Dark, terrifying areas of the fool Hajime never got to look at. It was clear the younger finally accepted his notes weren't going to be read. He was saying whatever he felt like. It's not like Hajime would read it. What was the most concerning was the letters he wrote as vents. One line in particular sent chills down Hajime's spine.

"...i just sometimes miss that feeling from before you know? Like now I've just started longing for those days when they'd beat on me and make me cry. I'm not sure why. I think I'd be really okay with that if it were you. If it would make you feel better, heh, I'd let you beat on me all day. Leave bruises all over me. I think I'd enjoy that pain again. Being loved one moment and then being beaten down and ugly... Ah, that would be great."

Hajime had to pick out the rest of the letters so he could puke in the trash and not all over the dirty dishes in the sink. He needed to start eating again. Now he was just dry heaving for five minutes before dribbling just a little bit of bile and stomach acid. He groaned as he washed out his mouth. This wasn't going to end well. He needed to get these letters away from him. Maybe then he'd feel less dead inside. He hobbled over to the table and took up the hundreds of letters in his arms. He tiredly threw them onto his bedroom floor before turning back for the living room. He swore as he banged his foot into a box and sent it flying across the hallway. He sighed as he stared at it from the other side. It sat their, letting off an intimidating aura. Softly, he picked it up and opened it.

Letters. More and more letters. At least a couple dozen. All of them opened this time however. Hajime nearly dropped the box realizing the key difference. These weren't the same. The sending addresses were all different. Even the handwriting on most. Hajime jumped at the voice behind him.

"You're not alone you know. You always say you are and make sure no one can correct you by sheltering yourself but... there are people that care about you out there. I... I'm sorry if it's intruding but I... i had to answer him. I felt so bad seeing all those letters. I started talking to him. He's just worried Hajime... at least think about saying something? I'll leave you alone about it from now on I just..." Naegi rubbed his neck as he looked away from Hajime, "I want you guys to get better."

Hajime winced at the light. It had been so long since he'd seen the sun that he almost forgot it was there. That there was light outside his house. He shuffled to the mail box. Naegi was right. Even so, that didn't make Hajime any more willing. The guilt would just gnaw at him every time he looked at Naegi if he didn't do this. He slowly slipped the letter in and put up the flag. He was done. It was over with. He just hoped Nagito would understand.

"I do still love you."

(God I fucking hate myself.)
((I wrote from Hajime's perspective???? Wow, what a miracle))