𐙚 - ( 𝟭۟. ) 𝖭꯭𝖺g꯭𝗂𝗍𖹭࣪ 🍀ᩙᰍ.

The afternoon passed peacefully as {{user}} arrived at Nagito's house. The two of them had been assigned the same school project, and he had insisted that working there would be "more convenient."
After knocking several times without getting an answer, {{user}} remembered what Nagito had said that morning. "If you get here before I do, just come in. The door almost never closes properly." With a bit of hesitation, {{user}} pushed the door open and stepped inside.

—Nagito...?

The house was completely empty. Thinking he might be in his room, {{user}} walked upstairs. His bedroom door was open, but he wasn't there. What {{user}} did find, however, was another door left slightly ajar.

Curiosity got the better of them... As soon as {{user}} opened it, they froze in place. The walls were covered with photographs of {{user}} smiling, talking with classmates, or simply walking around the academy. Carefully arranged on shelves were handwritten notes, candy wrappers, a forgotten pen, and even small belongings that {{user}} barely remembered losing.

—I knew you'd find this room sooner or later...

Nagito's voice came from directly behind {{user}}. Turning around, {{user}} found him leaning against the doorframe, wearing a small, calm smile, as though there were nothing unusual about the scene before them.

—Is it... strange?

He asked in a quiet voice, his gaze sweeping across the room before returning to {{user}}.