Work Text:
[ Then ]
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“Through the alleys behind the streets, I’ve always walked apart.
Holding twisted realities at the bottom of my heart.
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If there was anything Shuichi hated more than Danganronpa Season Twenty-Nine , it’s reading. Books were just so complicated! Words danced around the countless pages in an unintelligible blur, almost as if they were trying to distract him from the text. Most of the time, any books that were gifted to him as either a present or otherwise ended up where his family portrait and fifth grade diary went; straight into the trash.
Still, when you’re broke, you’re broke, and not even a semi-famous child actor can get out of that one. So for once in his life, Shuichi decided to take the initiative and get a job. The problem? There was only one place open for hire, said place being his local library. That was how Shuichi got to where he was now, sorting through book titles that he was only half paying attention to and stuffing them into bookshelf after bookshelf.
His arms ached from all the heavy box lifting, and his throat was beginning to burn from how many times he had to give directions to tiny, snot-covered children, but otherwise, it wasn’t as bad as he thought it would be. Even with the freezing air conditioning and less-than-pleasant noise drifting from one ear to another, he couldn’t say it was horrible. Besides, if it filled his wallet, he’d let it fill his time.
Large, black fonts swam in front of his eyes like the fish he used to care for back when he was nine, but he worked through the confusion nonetheless, keeping his gaze trained carefully on the shelves in front of him. Who knows? Maybe he’d get to clock out early if he finished all of his work early; after all, this library was known for being rather flexible with its high school employees.
Every now and then, the voices of various customers drew his attention away, but just as quickly, he snapped his neck back to his task. There was no time for distractions, not when the bills were coming in ridiculously quickly and the deadline for sending in his Danganronpa application was creeping up on him. . Just focus , he reminded himself. Keep looking straight ahead, don’t make eye contact with anyone –
“Hello?” an innocent voice called from beside him, causing Shuichi to jolt in surprise. He whipped his head around to look the speaker up and down, only to freeze upon seeing him. Amethyst eyes met gray and just like that, Shuichi was gone, floating a thousand miles away in space.
The stranger was a boy who looked to be around his age, with messy purple hair and a splatter of freckles dusting his nose. In other words, he was like nothing Shuichi had ever seen; with kind eyes and a tight smile, he scanned the library as if it were the scenery off a mountain, beautiful in a way he’d never seen before. Just the sight made Shuichi’s heart clench in his chest.
“Uh–“ he muttered intelligently, hands frozen on the book he’d been tucking away. “Yes?” Suddenly, it felt like this was his first time speaking; the words were beginning to get caught under his tongue, and the roof of his mouth was quickly becoming uncomfortably dry.
The boy, on the other hand, seemed completely unaffected by this phenomenon, gaze fixed and voice steady. “I’m looking for a book,” he explained, eyebrows pinched together as if he were examining an odd-looking specimen.
“Oh,” Shuichi said, straightening himself up. I know where everything is. I’ve done this before. Nothing he says can surprise a star employee like me. With this in mind, he took a deep breath and plastered on his best customer-service grin, determined to keep any and all emotions in check. “What are you looking for?”
And it was going well – great even! – until the boy hit him with, “What do you recommend?” and just like that, all of the pride was knocked out of Shuichi, leaving him scrambling to not only pick up the pieces, but to find out what the hell he should say. Do customers in bookstores just… do that? Ask for recommendations? All it took was the idea of that to make Shuichi wonder if the paycheck really was worth a job like this.
Unfortunately, however, he couldn’t just magically come up with some kind of convincing lie; so, he decided to settle for the embarrassing but all-too-real truth. “I don’t read.”
Two seconds was all it took for the boy’s face to morph into one of bewilderment, his eyes wide and jaw agape. “What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, shoving his money-filled hand into his pocket and leaning forward on his toes. More than anything else, he sounded accusatory, as if he’d just caught Shuichi pickpocketing a nice old lady.
In retaliation to his prying gaze, Shuichi brought his hand up and tugged his hat’s brim down over his face, successfully blocking the burning curiosity. Old habits die hard. “I don’t read,” he repeated, voice cracking near the end of his statement. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than for this boy to turn around and find a new employee; this was just getting embarrassing. “I’m not a fan of books.”
The boy’s eyes lit up in recognition almost immediately, expression shifting to something that could only be explained as pure, childlike joy. If he were to look close enough, Shuichi swore he’d be able to see a whole array of stars twinkling in his gaze. “Oh, so you’re one of those people!” he chirped, skipping right up next to him and leaning down to scan the books he’d been sorting through. “You aren’t not a fan of books, silly. You just haven’t found the right one yet!”
Shuichi blinked once, twice, and then choked out, “Huh?” What’s he trying to get at? It was as if his whole energy had changed; what was once a sweet, angelic presence had turned into an almost fiery atmosphere, passion coating his every word. It was scary in an interesting kind of way; no matter how much Shuichi found himself wanting to turn in a resignation document right then and run as far away as possible, a small part of him kept his feet planted on the ground, unmoving.
“So, what kind of things do you enjoy?” Kokichi asked smoothly. He had picked up a book while Shuichi was lost in his thoughts and was now flipping through it, skimming each page like he would the holy grail. There was a certain kind of intent in each of his movements, proving just how serious he was about… whatever he was trying to accomplish.
“Um,” Shuichi answered, eyes wide. More out of reflex than anything else, he stumbled a few steps back to give the stranger more room. Huh? “I like Danganronpa?” he tried, all the while trying to keep his trembling hands under control.
Upon hearing that, the boy just froze, hand still hovering above the spine of a brand new book. “Are,” he breathed, and although Shuichi couldn’t see his face, he could imagine his moon-eyes, “are you being serious?”
Shuichi’s blood ran cold at his tone of voice; there was something odd about the way this boy’s emotions changed so quickly. From shy to excited to tense, he was a whole ocean of feelings, as if he were slipping on a mask. It was unnerving and yet, at the same time, endearing. “Yeah,” he mumbled, shifting from one foot to the other awkwardly. If he wasn’t so captivated by the boy’s blank state of emotion, he’d have run right then and there. “Is that okay?”
There was a painfully long pause and then the boy nodded, slowly raising his eyes from his book. “That’s fine,” he replied, turning to fully look at him. The second their eyes met, Shuichi froze, gnawing on his bottom lip. In his eyes was a strange kind of potency, swimming just below the surface of a gem-like violet. Shuichi found himself caught between wanting to run and wishing to stare into those eyes forever, until his time ran out and all that was left of him was a pile of old, dusty bones.
He opened his mouth to say something, anything , but was interrupted by the purple-haired boy spinning around once more and slamming the book he’d been reading shut. Just like that, the spell they’d been under was broken, instead having been replaced by the same type of blazing fire that had filled the boy’s stare just minutes before. “So, have you tried Nemesis by Brendan Reichs?”
Shuichi hesitated and then said, a little more confidently than before, “I have not.”
“Good!” the boy chirped, jumping up and spinning around on his heel. When he met Shuichi’s eyes again, he was smiling the excited grin from before, but this time his cheeks were dusted with a pale, barely-noticeable pink, as well. “Then you’ll read this.” And with that, he outstretched his arms to display a white-and-red book cover.
Shuichi looked from the book, to the boy, back to the book, and then finally took it in his hands, flipping it over to read the synopsis. It seemed interesting enough: a girl gets murdered and then revived every two years, sending her into a desperate search for the truth. For a book, it was certainly intriguing; although it definitely wasn’t as good as anything Team Danganronpa could produce.
He briefly considered handing it back, finalizing one last time that books weren’t his style, but one look at his acquaintance made him regret even simply having the thought; shattering the joy in his eyes would just be too much to bear. So, instead, he tried for his best polite smile and said, “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me! I’m just doing god’s work,” he explained before slipping a piece of paper – where did he get that from? – into Shuichi’s pocket and turning to skip away, hands tucked into his jean jacket. “I’ll see you later, Shu - i - chi !”
He jumped to attention at that, tripping over himself to follow. “Wait, do you know me? I never said my name!” Shuichi called, waving his arm up in the air as if to call attention to himself.
Unfortunately, the boy didn’t turn around to face him, but he did cheer back, “Check the nametag, Mr. Librarian-Who-Doesn’t-Read! I’ll see you soon, so you better have finished that book by the time I come back!” After those kind, kind words, he disappeared out the automatic doors, not turning back for even a second. Shuichi couldn’t deny how disappointed he was by his sudden exit, but by the time he’d gotten through taking out the note given to him and reading it all the way through, that disappointment was washed away and replaced with something else: relief.
Or, you know, you could just text me at ###-###-####! ~ Kokichi Ouma, soon-to-be Ultimate Supreme Leader!
Shuichi would be lying if he said he didn’t spend his next lunch break carefully adding his new contact under the name Ultimate Bookworm.
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“Letting rain beat down upon me,
and avoiding the sun where I could see.
I was so surprised to find your hand so warm in mine.”
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[ Later ]
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“We watched the sunset, me and you.
We sent memes of cute puppies, too!
We would get so offended over stupid trivial news.
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If there was one thing Shuichi would have never expected him to be doing in the middle of a killing game, it was playing childish, school girl-esque games . But of course, he shouldn’t be surprised at that point; after all, none of the things happening to him were ‘according to plan.’ Robotic death bears and cheesy liars were things of a child’s greatest fantasy, not a detective apprentice’s terribly strange reality.
Still, no matter how much he went through, Shuichi didn’t think he’d ever get used to this; just talking to Kokichi was exhausting, let alone following him around like a sleep-deprived babysitter. And yet there he was, standing before the liar he kept swearing to never visit again with no intentions of high-tailing it away. God, Kaede, do you see what I have to deal with? Briefly, he wondered if she was looking down on him and shaking her head in pity.
But of course, he knew now that if there was anything that couldn’t save him, it was pity. “I’m glad you came!” Kokichi said in place of a greeting, eyes crinkled at the corners and lips curved into a joyful grin. “Remember, today is your last chance, okay?” he reminded him pointedly, waggling his finger in front of his face. For such a ‘serious’ thing, he seems awfully happy about it. Maybe he wants me dead? Shuichi put a hand to his chin in thought. But wouldn’t that be out of line with his earlier attempts? If he wanted to kill me, he’d have done it by now, wouldn’t he?
That was the thing about Kokichi Ouma: he had no tells. Shuichi could go on analyzing for years and still come up with nothing but a few dirty tricks. It was infuriating, but even more so than that, it was exciting . The rush of adrenaline every time they locked eyes only further proved this unfortunate fact, standing as evidence of the complicated feelings he had towards the Supreme Leader.
“Now, it’s time for the final game!” Kokichi patted his thighs in a drum-like rhythm and then slipped a hand into his back pocket. He dug around for a second, although whether he was faking his struggles or not was far beyond Shuichi, and then finally laughed to himself, pulling out–
“A knife!?” Shuichi yelped, stumbling backwards. All of a sudden, he took back every good thing he’d ever thought about his and Kokichi’s time together; this wasn’t exciting, it was downright terrifying , and all he could think as he stared at the blade was, This is it. This is where he kills me. “What are you...?” he asked, half because he didn’t want to be the one to admit what was on his mind.
Kokichi blinked once, twice, and then broke into those obnoxious, horse-like giggles Shuichi had gotten so used to over their time in the killing game, all the while holding the knife out like a personal microphone. “Don’t get antsy,” he said between snorts, waving his spare hand. “Don’t worry – it’s only for the game!”
If anything, those words only made Shuichi more worried , his knees knocking and hands shivering. That’s exactly what I’m worried about, he thought, averting his eyes to the ground but not quite looking away. “You know what the knife game is, right?” Kokichi verified, twirling the knife’s handle between his fingers with the kind of precision that only a professional could.
“The… knife game?” Shuichi managed to choke out between awkward coughs, eyes wide. He had to admit that it sounded awfully familiar, like something he’d played back in elementary; he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was .
Kokichi took his response as a no and began to explain accordingly; to be completely honest, Shuichi was unsure if that was for the better or worse. “Place your palm on the table with your fingers spread apart,” he said, demonstrating with his own hand. Against the wood of the Maid Lab’s makeshift dinner table, he looked ridiculously pale, and even with everything going on, Shuichi couldn’t help but wonder when was the last time Kokichi drank some water. “With the knife, stab between your fingers.”
“What?!” Shuichi jumped forward without hesitation, scrambling to pull the knife out of his grip before Kokichi could do anything. “That’s dangerous!” This time, his blood was rushing for an entirely different reason; rather than pride or excitement, all he could feel was a daunting amount of worry, itching at his fingertips and bubbling just below his ankles. Apparently, though, Kokichi felt no such fear.
“This will be today’s challenge! It’s fitting for the final game, isn’t it?” he prompted instead of replying, his smile somehow growing even larger than before. At that point, he looked more like the Cheshire Cat than a teenage boy – all lies and tricks, and no sanity left to spare.
“But this is really dangerous,” Shuichi argued, trying his best to stay calm despite the way his palms were beginning to seep with sweat. As much as he hated to admit it, if he were to try and take the knife away right then, it would probably just slip right through his grip. “What if we get hurt?”
“Hm?” Kokichi asked, expression shifting into something much more sinister. “What are you talking about, Shuichi? If you lose, you’ll be beyond just injured, you know? You’ll die!” Shuichi’s heart practically jumped straight out of his chest and onto the floor upon hearing that. And he sounds so serious, too…
“What?” His voice cracked mid-word, leaving his response very easily overridden by Kokichi’s ecstasy.
“I’ll make the first move,” Kokichi continued without fail, bringing the knife upwards to hover it right above his outstretched fingers. Shuichi’s nerves bit at him, yelling at him to get up and stop him , but the glint of focus in his eyes stopped him just before he began to move. I’ve never seen him so serious before, he realized, staring Kokichi up and down. Is this what an Ultimate Supreme Leader looks like?
Time ticked by in excruciatingly long seconds: One, two, three – “I’m ready!” Kokichi finally announced, mouth curved into a tight line. And with that, he was off, stabbing the tip of the knife between each of his fingers. He kept a steady pace, the speed increasing every few hits. Shuichi’s anxiety all but grew, but he didn’t move, instead watching from a safe distance. There was just something about the way Kokichi looked so intense that froze him in place – plus, if that knife accidentally swung in his direction, a nicked finger would be the least of his worries.
He’s so fast…! Shuichi thought to himself, crossing his arms over his chest. If he can do this, then – his train of thought was easily interrupted by a sharp, metal-like sound, followed by a distressed, “Ouch!”
“Kokichi!” he said, straightening up and taking a few shaky steps closer. The problem was pretty obvious; just barely to the side of his index finger, a trail of blood dripped onto the table, pooling on wood and staining brown a bright, angry pink. Shuichi sprung into action automatically, grabbing his wrist and tugging it forward by reflex. “You don’t have to keep going! Stop, stop, I’ll get it!”
Although he wasn’t sure why, the sight of Kokichi’s pinched face made Shuichi’s stomach drop to the ground; what he did know was that he never wanted to see the liar in that much pain ever again. So, as such, he moved quickly, sorting through all of the table’s many drawers until he located his goal: a first aid kit.
Shuichi carefully disinfected the wound – trying to ignore Kokichi’s pained face in the process – and wrapped a bandage on it to the best of his abilities, attempting to stop the bleeding before it could get worse.
Once he was finished, Shuichi looked up to gauge his expression, but instead of seeing tear-ridden eyes like he’d expected, instead he was met with… a smile. They made eye contact, and it took all but five seconds for Kokichi to break into whinnying laughter, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. This laugh was different from the others he’d displayed all day; this one was big and full, pitched around the edges and completely, beautifully real.
Shuichi froze upon hearing it, heat beginning to seep from his neck to his cheeks in a matter of seconds. More than anything he’d ever heard, Kokichi’s laugh was like a song – a melody of the heart, in the cheesiest of ways.
“Uh,” he stammered, trying to pull himself together. “I think that’s good,” Shuichi gestured to the bandaged finger, “What do you think?” Did it get hotter out here? he wondered, scratching the back of his neck.
“Yeah. It wasn’t a deep cut, so that’ll do,” Kokichi explained, slipping their hands apart easily and smiling down at him. His cheeks had gone to a bright pink, standing as a very obvious contrast to his confident tone of voice. “Thanks for treating my injury, Shuichi.”
There was a long pause, and then he added, “But aww! That means I’ve lost. Congrats, Shumai! You win!” he said it all so easily, as if he hadn’t just split his finger in two, leaving Shuichi floundering for a way to respond. What? Win? Oh right, the game… Wait, what?
“But I didn’t do it yet,” Shuichi said, staring back in bewilderment. “I’m still the winner?” Nothing about this made sense; Kokichi just stabbed himself, and he was still talking about the game? This is starting to get ridiculous.
Kokichi’s face was completely relaxed, any hint of pain having washed away like an ocean-flooded sandcastle. I think I’ll get whiplash if this continues any further, Shuichi thought absently, his gaze drifting back towards the injured finger. “Well, I messed up, so yeah,” the liar replied, speaking like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “You win by default!
“Plus, I already filled my objective,” he continued, intertwining his hands behind his back. It was almost childish, the way he smiled back so innocently; just the sight made Shuichi want to turn tail and escape from whatever other plans Kokichi had up his sleeve.
Unfortunately, his shoes remained glued to the ground. “Objective?” he repeated, brows furrowed. That made no sense; after all, he was still alive and well – most certainly not dead on the floor. “But I’m alive?” Shuichi thought aloud, tearing his eyes away from the bandaged-hand to face the liar head on.
Kokichi just laughed, resting his arms behind his neck. “I made your heart just die with worry, didn’t I?” he said it more like it was a statement than a question, eyes wide like a curious cat. My heart?
“What?” Shuichi said, blinking back slowly. None of this adds up. What is Kokichi talking about?
Kokichi tilted his head cheerfully, seemingly unaware of the detective’s rising confusion. “After I said I’d kill you, I was on your mind the whole time, right?” He leaned forward on the balls of his feet as he spoke, smirk plastered onto his face like a badge of honor. “You thought about whether or not I was serious, or why I would say something so confusing.” Suddenly, he pointed his uninjured index finger just inches away from Shuichi’s nose, smile shifting into something more like a grin. “Ha, even now! You’re concerned about me from the bottom of your heart!”
At that point, everything he said was beginning to turn into plain gibberish, and yet Kokichi just kept on going, blabbering on about things that sounded more like Egyptian than Japanese, “Now you’ll never ever forget me for the rest of your life,” he winked sweetly, twirling his waist around like a kid begging for an extra candy bar. “I stole your heart, so now I’m satisfied! I don’t need your life anymore.”
Shuichi jolted at the wording, his face going from a normal temperature to blazing fire in a matter of seconds. “What does that even mean?!” he demanded, flailing his arms around wildly. “Why would you say that?”
Kokichi was the complete opposite, his demeanor calmer than it had probably ever been. “Because that was a lie. I never wanted your life to begin with,” he explained, finally leaning back and straightening up. “Like I told you from the very beginning, I’m a liar!” He went semi-silent after that, scanning his face as if trying to gauge his expression. There was something unsettling about how Kokichi watched him, like a tiger stalking its prey.
I have nothing to say, Shuichi realized as he stared right back. To say Kokichi was toying with him was putting it lightly; more than anything else, he was mocking him. Every time they spoke, it felt like the liar was dangling a feather right in front of his nose, but the second he pounced, Kokichi would pull it away just in time, leaving Shuichi with nothing but cold, bitter disappointment.
I don’t think there will ever come a day that I understand Ouma. The thought made his heart drop to the ground and shatter into a million tiny pieces. I reach my hand out to him, but… Shuichi shut his eyes tightly, face morphing into a pinched expression. He doesn’t take it.
Finally, he opened his eyes back, gaze adjusting to the newfound light. Kokichi was now grinning, stone-slate expression nowhere to be seen. But in a way, I think that helps me understand him more. He found that the thought didn’t bring as much comfort as he’d hoped it would.
“Well, this sure was fun, Shumai!” Kokichi chirped, bouncing up, “but I think it’s time for me to take my leave. It’s getting boring over here!”
Shuichi opened his mouth to say something, stop him from leaving so quickly , but he was too late; by the time he’d uttered the word, “Wait,” Kokichi was already gone, leaving a trail of shattered hopes in his path.
On any other occasion, he would have leaned down and rushed to pick up the pieces, desperate for even a hint at Kokichi’s true nature, but unfortunately, in a killing game like theirs, there was only so much he could do.
Why did it have to be this way? he wondered, watching the liar disappear behind the many buildings littering the academy’s courtyard.
Oh, Kaede, Shuichi thought, finally crumbling to his knees. What am I supposed to do…?
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“We’d laugh while watching parodies,
and cry while listening to comedies;
two lonely and broken souls having the time of their lives.
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[ After ]
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“I’m glad that you’re you,
that I’m me and for us, too.
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The killing game was hard, but recovery was even harder. For years, all Shuichi knew of was white walls and excruciatingly long group therapy. Doctors came and went, carrying around forced smiles that they pulled out of their pockets like a travel-mask; there was nothing genuine about those cheerful faces, nor their supportive words. “It’ll get better!” they often told Shuichi, when he was tired and drained and far-too exhausted to raise his head from his pillow.
Back in the simulation, he might have believed them. After all, it sounded like something Kaede would say, and as a teenager, whatever she said, he did. After escaping, however, everything was different; things were just far too real. His vital checks were real , the sleep paralysis keeping him up all throughout the gruesome night was real , and even worse than both of those combined, his pain was real.
There was only one thing that was fake anymore, and that was he, himself. Shuichi Saihara, the boy detective known worldwide for solving mystery after mystery, was fake. His personality, his mind, his fears – they were all nothing more than a couple of sugar-coated illusions, whipped up on the fly by none other than the mastermind herself.
He couldn’t even hate himself, because there was nothing to hate. All he had was a body that was not his, a signature outfit that he did not pick out, and a heart full of emotions that he didn’t have the right to own. When he first learned this, he tried to reassure himself that he still had his own conscience; after all, his uncle had always told him that a beautiful body didn’t equal a beautiful person.
But as time went by, he just lost the urge to seek out comfort, let alone give it. To him, there was no reason to try anymore, not when the only thing that could be considered human had been ripped away from him within just seconds . There was nothing left for him anymore, not after all that had happened to him – or, well, almost nothing.
All throughout his time back in the real world, barely anything could help. No matter how many therapies Shuichi bounced in and out of, no matter how many times he took online classes and tried to keep up with his breathing exercises, the pain never truly ceased.
He had very few joys in that cold, cruel world anymore; even talking to Kaede had gotten dull, having to hear her same old, “Just don’t give up!” advice every time they met up. Pretty soon, there was only one person who could bring him any sense of calm – said person being the one standing right across from him, staring like Shuichi was the prettiest gem of them all, normally-smirking face erased to make way for a soft, genuine smile.
Growing up, he only heard about true love once, and it was from a romance book that his uncle had accidentally left lying on the dinner table. Long story short, he’d taken just one look at the first three pages and snapped it shut, deciding to call it a day. Ever since then, if there was one thing he believed less than anything else, it was soulmates, because if there really was a person for everyone, then why were so many people lonely?
He’d seen them all, dropping pieces of shattered hearts everywhere they went; it was those people who convinced him that no matter what, he would never have a happy-ever-after.
But that all changed when he saw Kokichi for the first time — really saw Kokichi for the first time. It had been nearly midnight; they were sitting on the roof and talking about everything, anything , to ignore why they were in such a place in the first place.
All it took was one smile and Shuichi decided right then and there that he was wrong about love; love wasn’t impossible to obtain, nor was it a lie created by the media. Rather, love was hard – it was hard in the way Kokichi shied away from any type of relationship talk, it was hard in the way Shuichi woke up every morning with a scream on his tongue, it was hard in the way neither of them had any idea where to go, or what to do, when they finally left that godforsaken psychiatric hospital.
But, Shuichi found, ‘hard’ didn’t have to mean bad. Maintaining a house was hard , but that didn’t mean the bliss of waking up every afternoon with his fiancé by his side was bad – cooking was hard , but Shuichi wasn’t just going to stop providing meals for the two of them all together – and, quite possibly the most important of them all, standing here in front of the altar was hard , but Shuichi would never give this moment up for anything, not even a stress-free life and peaceful sleep.
Standing there with Kokichi, tuning out the priest’s words and tightening their intertwined hands for dear life, Shuichi felt like he was somewhere far, far away. No killing games could get to him from there, and no hallucinated cosplayers could convince him otherwise. He was safe with the one he loved and truly, Shuichi couldn’t think of anywhere else he’d rather be.
He only just barely heard the end of the vows, too focused on the man in front of him to pay much attention to anything else. Kokichi, on the other hand, seemed surprisingly engaged – for the very second the priest quit talking, he leaned in, closing the inches between them with the speed of a maid escaping a bloody execution. And just like that, everything else faded away: the memories, the heartache, the night terrors. With Kokichi’s lips against his, nothing else mattered, no matter how urgent.
For just a second, Shuichi allowed himself to relax, melting into the kiss like it was the last he’d ever have. Tomorrow would be a new day, full of insecurities, restless naps, and tiresome therapy; in fact, that was probably how the next day would go, too, and the next, and the one after that, and all of the following ones until the day he finally laid in his very own death bed.
But today was different – today, he could indulge all he wanted to. So, knowing that, he pressed back with all the energy he had left, lacing his arms around Kokichi’s neck and smiling into the kiss. There would be time to worry and stress in the morning, when the adrenaline was gone and replaced with nothing but inhuman dread – for now, he’d make the most of his day.
Because when you’ve been through such a traumatic event, what else can you do?
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“I’m kind of glad that you’re evil, too.
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