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I caught myself wishing he would stay.
No matter how Shuichi tries to smother the thought, it remains. As cheeky as its subject, and somehow, twice as intense, it invites new heat into his cheeks and paints them in a delicate red glow.
What…?
The feeling leaves him momentarily dazed. Meanwhile, the sound of footsteps only grows further.
Wait-
But Shuichi’s useless mind, unlike his body, continues to lag behind, allowing the leader to escape with only a promise to play again and his trademark chuckle.
Things aren’t supposed to go like this!
In a fantasy world, where he was meant to play his partner’s ideal, he was…himself. Not a pet, or a coach, or a sparring partner, or a plaything. Just…Shuichi Saihara, the Ultimate Detective.
"I won’t tell you where I hid the stolen gem!"
The setting wasn’t the same -a far cry, really, from their true reality.
"Eh? But isn’t that what happens to a phantom thief when they’re caught?"
As for the scenario…
"Geeeez, I was willing to let you do whatever you want to me…"
The detective shivers, clenching the duvet.
"…since I love you, Shuichi…"
"Kokichi!" he calls, pushing himself suddenly, urgently from the bed. Unsure of why, or rather, for who’s sake, he decides to give chase.
What are you thinking?
Though his limbs attempt to trip him on his way out, he clenches his fists and follows the sound of retreating footsteps.
"Wait!"
The detective calls out, taking off in a full sprint, suddenly grateful for his midnight training sessions with his friends in the courtyard.
"S-Stop!"
However, his words only seem to inspire the opposite in his target.
The leader -er, thief picks up the pace and dashes for the emergency stairs. Almost desperate, from what Shuichi gleans off his slender back, to get away. He weaves left and right then left again, likely in an attempt to confuse him.
Even so, it isn’t long until the detective’s legs find their pace.
"Nee-heehee!"
The boy laughs, as though he’d expected it. As though he knew their night wouldn’t yet conclude before this, he zips down the hall like he’s having the time of his life.
Meanwhile, slowly, the detective begins closing the gap between them.
He’s fast but-
For how lithe and agile he knew Kokichi to be, Shuichi finds himself surprised the more he gains on him. It didn’t look like he was purposely trying to get caught this time and yet-
-at this rate…
The thief stumbles. Though he recovers quickly, it’s not enough.
The detective was closer.
The distance was shrinking.
The stairs were right there.
-he slips again.
"Got you!"
The detective pants, lunging for him. Ignoring the alarm bells sounding at the back of his brain, he grabs the little thief by the wrist. And like a puppet jerked suddenly by an invisible string, Kokichi lurches back.
Ah-
Their eyes meet.
"…!"
As he too loses his balance, and feels the rush of cool air.
They fall back.
"Oof!"
Kokichi groans, landing roughly atop the other boy’s chest. His head spins from the impact. Though he was certain he’d suffered the least damage between them, he quickly assesses himself for further injuries.
"Are you okay?"
Shuichi’s voice then reverberates throughout his entire body.
…!
Immediately, Kokichi scrambles for purchase. For something -anything that could help disconnect their bodies from one another.
This wasn’t supposed to happen.
Shuichi wasn’t supposed to have chased after him. And yet, here he was, beneath him on the hotel floor.
A small whine escapes the detective’s lips, prompting him to put as much distance between them as possible. But alas, the abrupt, flustered movements he makes to achieve it send the liar’s vision swimming.
Shit!
Luckily, he does manage to catch himself just before their noses can touch.
Safe.
But honey-grey eyes stare back at him making him feel the fool anyway. This close, close enough to feel his warmth, his heartbeat, the way his breath tickles the base of his neck. Kokichi stammers a reply. "F-Fine."
Internally, he cringes. Though, if the detective’s obliviously blank stare told him anything, there was still a chance to fix this.
Switching on his usual charm, he smiles with an intensity that made their positions clear.
"That was a bold move, Mister Detective."
And in an instant, it’s gone.
Below him, Shuichi blinks, unable to quite process it. The speed with which Kokichi sprang from one emotion to another had always felt like a novelty yet, even now, he still found himself impressed.
For a second, the thief had almost looked surprised.
Embarrassed, even, if Shuichi could be so bold.
"Chasing after me when we've already said our goodbyes for the night…" He continues, the heat of his breath warming the detective's cheeks. "You've definitely got guts."
But now?
"I hope you’re prepared for what comes next."
Did I just imagine that…?
Shuichi shivers.
Looking at Kokichi, the mischievous glint in his eye makes him think twice.
After all, in their daily lives, Kokichi was always messing with him. Spinning elaborate tales of his evil organization and roping him into pointless games. All the while, he wore an impish smile that was impossible to decipher.
It intrigued Shuichi as much as it infuriated him, being told to beg for his life one minute only to be praised simply for existing the next.
He’d quickly come to learn that every conversation with Kokichi was its own labyrinth; a winding, twisting path with no clear goal in sight. And yet, by the time the two of them had reached the other side of it, Shuichi, for some unfathomable reason, always found himself craving more.
Perhaps it was the detective in him, the desire to find the loose string within the tangled web that was Kokichi Ouma and unravel him. See what was beneath the beautifully crafted lie that he presented himself as, and pull that person to the surface.
Maybe, he truly loved the thrill of the chase.
Or maybe, just the distraction.
"Just kidding!" The thief smiles at him coyly, like he knows what he’s thinking.
Disentangling himself from Shuichi’s body, he then begins humming a familiar tune.
Ah, that’s-
One that Shuichi had gotten to know very well, as of late.
A soothing melody, as she’d described it.
A melody, from that day, that had engraved itself on his very soul.
Claire de Lune .
Shifting the last of his weight off of him, the thief readjusts. He sprawls out his legs on the carpeting before him, continuing to hum, and finally, leverages his upper body with his hands.
I wonder…
With the weight gone, Shuichi too, sits up.
Did he go to her lab at some point?
Or was this just a coincidence?
At the end of the thief’s final bar, he still doesn’t know.
But the residual heat that lingers between them leaves him wanting to believe it.
"Well," Kokichi speaks, resuming his usual playful tone. Like earlier, any traces of something different fade quickly and give way to the same expressions the detective knew best. "It's been fun toying with you, Shuichi. But my subordinates are waiting on me, y'know!"
Pushing himself to his feet, the thief dusts off the ends of his shirt and offers him a hand.
"…"
His smile doesn’t waver. Neither do the steady eyes that watch his every step.
"…"
Yet still, he can’t shake that incessant feeling, that ache in his chest.
"Let's have more fun next time, 'kay?"
The thief smiles at him.
Spinning on his heel, he moves to get away from him once more. To leave him behind, this time without any room for doubt. Their night was over. The fantasy not quite broken, yet irreparable all the same.
Until Shuichi notices it.
Even before the thief seems to, by the confident set of his shoulders.
A misstep.
The liar’s third one tonight.
A chance.
Bracing himself, Shuichi grabs his hand before he can get any further. And clumsily, he attempts to verify his suspicions, resuming from where they’d left off. "D-Did you think I’d let you get away that easily, phantom thief?"
An embarrassing heat rises in his cheeks. He doubted his acting would win him any awards tonight, but if it was enough to at least make Kokichi laugh at him, he could bear with it. Still, the thief, yet again, defies his expectation.
Rather than laughing, he stares up at him, wide-eyed and unusually still. And for the first time tonight, Shuichi gets a proper look at the whole of his face. He doesn’t know how he hadn’t noticed it before. The thief’s pale complexion, the dark circles that pulled at his eyes. The way sweat continued to bead his forehead though they’d finished their game of tag long ago.
"I-" The thief sputters, instinctively jerking his hand away. Though Shuichi’s grip holds firm, he takes another two steps back. "I'm still not telling you where-"
And immediately, the detective stops him. "Before that, there's something I need to confirm."
Still holding his wrist, he too shuffles back another step or so, just enough to create the proper distance. And while the thief regards him quizzically, his limited patience making itself known in the way his brow creases with every passing second, Shuichi abruptly pulls him forward.
Again, Kokichi lurches. But rather than kissing the floor this time, he stumbles softly into the other’s chest.
"It’s as I suspected, then." The detective sighs. Bracing the thief by the arm, he steps back and observes the way he favors one leg over the other, all but dragging his lame foot forward. "You’re injured."
Once he noticed it, it felt stupidly obvious. How he’d been able to catch up so quickly, and why his thief seemed clumsier than usual.
I wonder if he hurt it when he fell through the floorboards?
It had only been a day since they’d sent three more classmates to their graves -a day since they’d been sentenced to one of the most grueling investigations Shuichi had ever come to know.
The smell of death had been extra pungent this time. And the familiar feeling of defeat hung like a heavy miasma over the group.
Angie, the Ultimate Artist, lay lifeless in a pool of her own blood.
Then came the ritual. And what was supposed to have been nothing more than a five-minute affair became the freshly blood-soaked edges of a pure white sheet.
Tenko, the Ultimate Aikido Master, had breathed her last.
The investigation was breakneck. Two bodies, two crime scenes -too many suspects to juggle while his mind was already in overdrive. It made Shuichi all the more grateful that Maki had such a level head on her shoulders. She’d grounded him, kept him focused while providing solid insight, making the whole ordeal as smooth and efficient a ride as possible.
And then, they’d stepped out into the hall.
The sight of a third body was all it took for Shuichi to forget how to breathe. Two had been dizzying enough already, but three-
The liar smiled.
"Nee-heehee." Slyly, he leans in and asks. "Is that a threat, detective?"
A threat?
Shuichi’s mind parrots, lost in his thoughts before the realization at last takes hold. "Ah, no. I'm-" He then quickly scrambles for the right words. "Like I said before, I don't plan on torturing you or anything."
"Hmm." The thief regards him skeptically for a moment. Then, all at once, a proud smirk graces his lips. "For a detective, you sure are dumb, Shuichi." He tuts, shaking his head, wagging a condescending finger at his sternum. "This might be your only chance to pry some info out of me, y'know!"
"Even so…I don’t like seeing you hurt."
There was already enough of that during the killing game; people getting hurt, most beyond recovery. Any sight of blood at this point felt like a death sentence. Every chill in the air, a new body just around the corner. And while Shuichi wanted to believe that this had been the last -that no more death would follow the Ultimate Anthropologist’s execution, there’d been this persistent, nagging feeling in his chest that it wasn’t over yet.
That everything had started with Kaede.
And wouldn’t end until he figured it out.
And yet, despite knowing this, he’d continued to fail.
Four bodies. Three killers.
Seven of them gone.
Nearly half, compared to where they’d started.
Yet, he had nothing to show for it.
He’d promised her that they’d work together and get out.
He’d promised to grant her wish, no matter what it took.
But he wasn’t any closer to uncovering the secrets of the academy now than when this all started.
And with each new body, he felt that pressure mounting in his chest.
"You’re really mean, Mister Detective." Still, Kokichi smiled at him like he was perfect.
Carefully, he extracts himself from the detective’s arms and takes a steadying breath. The warmth in his face dissipates. Though his eyes still glow with something like hope. "If you keep talking like you care," he then blinks, extinguishing it, replacing it with something less foreign, something safe, "I'll come to expect it."
That should be enough.
Even if this was a fantasy, there were lines one simply did not cross. He’d indulged enough already, tricking Shuichi into playing his game for a little while, watching him squirm under the pressure of it. Getting caught a second time had been a miscalculation on his part (a welcome one, but an error nonetheless), but now, it was time to put this to bed.
"But…I do care."
If only the detective cooperated.
The thing about fantasies -they weren’t real. They never would be real and that was what made them fun. Imagining different scenarios and how others would react to them -especially when they were as interesting and as expressive as Shuichi- gave him no greater joy. And sure, he may be the one pulling the strings to make it happen, but Kokichi had always likened himself to a passive observer in this sort of scene or better yet, a vessel to extract new and amusing reactions for his repertoire.
He created fantasies, yes, but they were never about him.
Not until tonight, when Shuichi decided suddenly that they were.
"Right, right." Still, for now he could play along and pretend that there was more to hope for. A perfect lie, a miracle that could never be. If Shuichi was willing to indulge him, the least he could do was give him a show. "You get a better reward for capturing me alive, huh?"
The detective bristles, though the look on his face betrays him.
So simple.
Kokichi grins, poking him playfully in the chest. "Fine then," he looses his shoulders and stretches his arms out, expression unwavering, "I’ll allow you to carry me back."
Regardless, for just a minute, Shuichi could’ve sworn that he…
…No, never mind.
But in the end, he decides to let it go.
Something told him he’d get his answer soon enough anyway.
Crouching down, the detective beckons the thief to get on his back. Holding out his hands, he waits patiently for the other to slot himself in place. Then, slowly, he rises to his feet. Surprisingly, Kokichi doesn’t make much of a fuss. He doesn’t attempt to tease or strangle the life out of him as they take their first few cautious steps. Nor rock back and forth to throw him off-balance as he had braced himself for. Instead, the thief grips his shoulders lightly like they burn -just tight enough so as not to fall.
It’s as though he’s trying to keep as much distance between us as possible.
Curiously, the detective steals a glance behind him.
Sure enough, Kokichi isn’t looking at him, or even ahead, for that matter. Instead, like the rest of his body, his eyes are trained elsewhere, just as avoidant or perhaps, simply unaware of how troublesome a spot he’d put the detective in. Still, Shuichi can’t say he hates the look of the thief’s side profile staring blankly at the ceiling above them. Even if the awkwardness of the position causes him to stumble a little himself.
"Hey." When Shuichi calls out to him, his voice sounds distant. Hazy, like it was trapped within the same fog his brain was currently occupying, wondering how they’d gotten into this situation. "You should really hold on a bit tighter. It’s hard to walk when you lean so far back like that."
"Hmm…" Kokichi hums back in a daze, not quite comprehending. Though the individual words string together, the thought itself is maddeningly slow to take form. Hold. Tighter.
A sudden mischievous thought springs to mind.
Nee-heehee!
Tightening his grip, the thief goes for it and leans further in. Allowing the warmth of his body to connect with Shuichi’s own, he then whispers softly. "Is this close enough, detective?"
!
As expected, Shuichi nearly drops him.
They take a few halting steps forward before the detective comes to a full stop in order to readjust his grip. And though Kokichi can’t see his face from this angle, the image of it alone is reward enough.
"Are you blushing, Shuichi?"
He giggles, knowingly twisting the knife.
Even so, the detective wasn’t one to fall for the same trick twice.
"I…didn’t expect you to whisper." He continues walking, ignoring the way the other made his heart skip a beat. Staring at the floor, he chooses instead to admire the ways in which the abstract splotches in the vivid fuchsia tapestry twist and turn, reminiscent of their past conversations.
In a way, it almost felt normal again, talking to Kokichi like this. Every word scrambling his brain, taking them down a different direction, and yet, somehow, always ending in the same place.
"Hm? But isn’t my normal voice too loud when we’re this close?" Kokichi teases, a grin stretching from ear to ear. And internally, Shuichi can’t help but surrender.
He…really didn’t understand him at all.
One minute he’s shoving me into bed, and the next, he’s bolting out the door.
Smiling, and laughing. Going on about how they’d play again soon, and yet…
For a second tonight, Shuichi had seen something entirely different.
A blank flicker of something honest.
And here, as they walked the desolate halls of the hotel, it dawns on him.
Ah-
"Nothing trumps the sound of your heartbeat right now."
Without thinking, it spills from his lips. And suddenly, he’s hyperaware of it. The feeling of another person’s heart racing wildly against his back.
He’s nervous.
"Wha-" Accidentally, Kokichi lets his normal voice slip. Then- "W-Waah! S-Shuichi’s bullying me!" -right on cue, he attempts to cover it up in dramatics. They take the form of loose fists against the detective’s back. The force behind them, however, is more akin to a light massage than a punch. "Was this your plan all along? Do you get off on bullying others, Mister Detective?"
It’s…kind of cute.
Shuichi smiles in spite of himself. Seeing the unflappable Kokichi seriously flustered, even if only for a moment, made the entire night worth it.
"H-Hey! Stop squirming-" he laughs, earnestly enjoying himself for once too. The image of an awkward thief, unable to take what he loved dishing out the most, burns itself in his mind. "Seriously," he breathes, feeling his grip start to slacken, "I'm gonna drop you!"
"Good!" Kokichi huffs like the petulant child he was, likely wearing the pout to match. Nevertheless, his assault slowly winds down. His fists cease their furious beating, unfurling into warm hands that settle comfortably back on his shoulders. And, just as they come upon the suite again, he rests his head placidly against the detective’s back. "…"
Oh-
It surprises Shuichi just how fast they reach the door; the long hallway they’d both scurried down moments ago seemingly much shorter than he remembered. Though, perhaps that too could be attributed to the fantastical nature of the night.
We’re here.
Either way, he was glad to be back.
Breezing past the open door, they make their way to the side of the bed.
"I'm setting you down now." Shuichi announces, giving the thief’s calf a light squeeze in warning. He waits on the sound of a noncommittal hum from the latter, then, cautiously, eases him down onto the bed.
The sound of compressing mattress springs fills the otherwise silent room, the thief yet to speak since the end of his assault. Shuichi wonders if he’s meant to say something. To initiate, or, at the very least explain himself, having been the first to hesitate.
It was he, after all, who had chased the other’s back on a sudden impulse.
A wish that he would stay.
It was embarrassing, now that he had time to think about it. Even if his intentions were pure, he could imagine the thief teasing him about the look on his face for the rest of his life.
"You’re so unfair."
But maybe, just maybe.
"Huh?"
He…wasn’t wrong.
"Kokichi…?"
"Don’t turn around."
A shaky exhale follows from behind him, along with the light rustling of the duvet. However, Shuichi’s attention is all but captured by the hand at his back, gingerly gripping the end of his shirt.
"Why are you indulging me?" Kokichi asks.
A question.
Not a joke, or a threat.
Keeping his eyes steadily trained on the detective’s back, he grits his teeth and keeps his voice steady. "Why do you keep chasing after me?" He squeezes the fabric between his fingers. "This can only end badly, y’know."
A thief and a detective.
A liar and his truth.
It was a tale as old as time.
Shuichi wasn’t delusional. He knew just as well as the thief -as well as Kokichi, how this story was supposed to end.
Still, they were here now.
Kokichi was here, gripping his shirt.
Because, against all odds, he had chased after him.
Because, though he knew it was crazy, Shuichi had wanted more.
Because-
"Because I want to."
- he didn’t want to believe it had all been for nothing.
“…”
“…”
And maybe things hadn’t been that way from the start. Maybe, Shuichi had, at one point, dreaded this night before it ever really began.
…But now?
I…
He…
He didn’t want this night to end.
I…I want to make him happy.
A blush steadily creeps across his cheeks as it hits him; a thought much harder to smother than the last. A thought frightening enough to make his heart race, and yet, the feeling itself wasn’t unpleasant.
Without thinking, he turns around to see if Kokichi feels it too-
Oh…
-only to be greeted by a completely crimson face, hidden partially behind a hand.
"I thought I told you not to turn around." Kokichi mutters, averting his gaze. Nevertheless, Shuichi can’t help being intrigued.
I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so flustered.
It made him want to know more. Where the lies ended, and the truth began. But one thing was for sure; Kokichi couldn’t lie about the warmth of his hand.
Tugging it gently from his face, Shuichi sets it on his chest. "See?" In hopes of a temporary truce, he dares to hold his gaze. "You aren’t the only one who’s nervous right now."
Finally, the other meets his eyes, and sees the full-blown warmth in his cheeks. Feels the steady beat of his heart pulsating through. And it's a bit embarrassing, Shuichi thinks, to be stared at so intently. To expose himself like this, in front of someone who, surely, would laugh. Tell him he was overthinking it, that he wasn't actually nervous and was just still in the process of cooling down from their game of tag.
To his surprise however, Kokichi retracts his hand.
“Right." Scooting back on the bed, he looks away again, shoulders slumping. Like a balloon that's been popped, he settles into the mound of pillows and mutters something unintelligible.
"Oh um," Shuichi stutters, unsure what to make of it. "I'll go get the med kit now, so just hold tight."
"Yeah."
Glancing back, Kokichi looks less than enthused. Limbs strewn lazily across the bed, save for his calves. Barely audible, he sighs, then shifts onto his side.
Did I…say something wrong?
Shuichi wonders briefly, this reaction -or rather, lack thereof, new to his repertoire. Still, it wasn't like the fantasy had ended.
When he returns with the kit, he finds the thief still laying languidly on his side and beckons him closer. And without complaint, or any words at all, Kokichi rolls over to the edge. Shuichi gets to work, first pulling his shoe off, then rolling up his pant leg. Underneath, he finds about what he expected and frowns.
"I'm surprised you could still run on this." He sighs, moving to the room's mini fridge to collect some ice. He'd known that Ouma was reckless, incorrigibly so, but that amount of swelling was no joke.
Kokichi, for his part, shrugs. "All part of the trade, my beloved. A thief without any pain tolerance isn't worth their salt and could never make it to the big leagues."
Shuichi wants to argue. But unfortunately for him, he'd seen many an occasion where criminals chose to ignore their injuries until playing on them was to their benefit. Not Kokichi though, which, for all his other theatrics, always struck the detective as absurd.
"Does it hurt?" He applies the ice directly to the most swollen regions, careful to apply the least amount of pressure possible. Even if Kokichi were to lie to him, he would not be fooled into exacerbating the problem.
Kokichi taps a finger to his chin, as though considering it. Then, with a smile, shrugs again. "'Course it does!"
And the honesty throws him for a loop. It must show on his face, because the next thing he hears is Kokichi laughing at him.
"I'm not Kee-boy, Shuichi!" He says between breaths. "Of course I feel it."
"Then…" Shuichi looks up, setting the ice pack aside in favor of a towel and some wrapping tape. He notes how Kokichi doesn't even flinch as he uses a towel to dab at the excess moisture. "…why haven't you said anything? A-At the very least, let me know if I'm hurting you."
"You aren’t." Kokichi affirms. Stretching his arms, he pushes a contented sigh and lays back on the center of the bed. "By the way, I'd advise against asking such boring questions in the future. Liars and thieves aren't the ones you should pity, detective."
Maybe...
To a degree, he was right. Having sympathy for a murderer was at the root of Shuichi's self-confidence issues as a detective. Because the law was fixed and he was human, he couldn't help feeling bad and getting swayed by even the worst people he and his uncle had helped put away in their time. Still, Shuichi didn't think such feelings were useless.
"Maybe not," he concedes, expertly wrapping the tape around his companion's ankle. He makes sure to tie it firm enough to hold, yet loose enough for comfort. "But right now, you aren't a thief."
"What?"
"And I’m not a detective." Shuichi smiles. Kokichi springs up again and stares at him curiously. There's a skeptical look in his eye, and though Shuichi knows it's a risk to renounce their roles, for some reason, he gets the feeling he understands what Kokichi wants now.
Slamming the med kit shut, he drops it beside the bed and scoots next to the liar, close enough that their thighs brush against one another. And boldly, he takes Kokichi's hand.
His wish is much simpler than what I was imagining.
Shuichi squeezes, watching the liar flush red. He tries to hide it by turning his face, but now, Shuichi finds that he can see right through him.
"It's alright, you know, to want to enjoy yourself."
To take a break from all the theatrics.
To let someone else take the stage.
"Likewise," Shuichi leans over to take his other hand and smiles, “it's alright to feel stressed and scared and hurt sometimes.”
"Shuichi-"
"Let me finish." He squeezes. "I know I'm not the brightest, or the strongest or the most reliable, but I… I care about you, Kokichi." Shuichi confesses. "As strange as all of our encounters have been, I enjoy our time together. I won't ask you to always be honest with me, but if ever… If you ever just need a break or even some encouragement away from prying eyes, I'm here."
And he meant it.
Kokichi could tell. Looking into those soft honey eyes, they were filled equal parts with adoration and conviction -both of which took turns melting his insides.
More than ever, he wanted to run away. To hide his face and scream for something he knew could never be because Shuichi didn't like him like that. He didn't want to like him like that.
"You’re a liar, Shuichi."
But maybe for tonight.
"Eh?"
"Nee-heehee!"
He could indulge in the fantasy.
"You're still a detective." The liar whispers, leaning in closer. "And I'm still a thief."
Grabbing Shuichi by the collar, he closes the distance between them. It was quick and it was selfish -the exact sort of thing he knew the detective would hate and yet…
Shuichi was kissing him back.
Soft and sweet, it was everything he could’ve ever imagined.
A little clumsy, a little shy.
But undeniably the best thing either of them had ever known.
At last, their eyes meet again.
And just as quickly as it had started, it was over.
It’s a shame, Shuichi thinks, that Kokichi wouldn’t remember any of it when they woke up. From the start, this was a dream for him, a perfect fantasy, a perfect lie. Still, even if it stuck with him like a hazy memory for the days to come, Shuichi was determined to make the most of it.
And not just for Kokichi’s benefit.
Taking some initiative, Shuichi pushes the leader, who goes down without more than a giggling protest. Smiling, he reaches a hand to brush the loose strands of hair from his face. His fingers trail over a lengthy scar, freshly scabbed over -the more visible wound from the liar's brush with the fourth-floor floorboards.
"Hey, does your head still hurt?" It was a question he should've asked way sooner, in retrospect. Especially considering the amount of blood he'd seen pour from Kokichi's head that day.
It was a wonder he made it to the trial without further injury -even if he had fallen asleep part-way through. Shuichi hadn't had much time to dwell on it back then, caught between the two murders and Maki's flow. But seeing how Kokichi had hobbled away at the end of the trial without dropping one of his signature sly remarks, he regretted not checking in on him sooner.
"Aw, are you worried, Shuichi?" The liar coos, leaning into his touch.
"Well, you lost a lot of blood and passed out during the trial so-"
Kokichi kisses him again.
At his beloved's bewilderment, he chuckles and falls back on the fluffy mattress.
Shuichi sighs. "It definitely does, doesn't it?"
"Nee-heehee!"
Geez. The detective smiles.
What was he going to do with him?
Shrugging off his jacket, Shuichi lays beside the leader. And together they stare at the ceiling. He feels the heat rise in his cheeks, more happy than he ever thought he’d be to be here in this moment. Kokichi scoots closer to him and, reluctantly, lays his head on his chest.
"Now I can hear your heartbeat too!" He says cheekily, causing his heart to beat even faster. But with Ouma pressed up on him like this, Shuichi notes that he can feel his heartbeat too.
It's distant from the liar he'd come to know in the Killing Game, yet not unfamiliar. Perhaps it was because Kokichi had always been touchy with him, always invading his personal space against his will until the feeling had become comfortable. Always playing games, and spouting absurdities about stealing his life, but also his heart.
At the start, Shuichi had found it annoying and confusing, quite frankly. Yet, somewhere along the way, it had become almost endearing.
What am I saying?
Shuichi banishes the thought. Just because he'd seen a new side of Ouma tonight didn’t mean anything would change between them. They were still in a dream, after all.
When they woke up, they'd be themselves again; the shy, but dependable detective and the bold, yet twisted schemer. No doubt, Kokichi would rile them up all over again. And no doubt, Shuichi would have to step in and mediate.
After tonight, he doubted either of them would ever expose these sides of themselves to each other or anyone else again. So just for tonight-
"Kokichi?"
"Hm?"
-he'd indulge.
Looping his arm around the leader’s small form, he pulls him close and presses his lips gently to the other's scar. Just for tonight.
He'd forget.
About the Killing Game, about the tragedy that awaited them.
He wouldn’t think too hard or try putting a label on this feeling.
"I'm glad you're alive."
Smiling, he watches the liar’s brain short-circuit.
"Ngh! Not fair!" Extending an arm, Kokichi swings a pillow in his face, hitting his mark with ease. He tugs off his loose scarf and rolls onto his side. Shuichi can’t help giggling at the childishness of it all.
"I'm turning off the lights."
"Uh-huh."
With a click of a button, the room dims. The only sounds to be heard, the creaks and bumps of the room, and each other's breathing.
Shuichi sighs contentedly, staring blearily up at the ceiling. It was always in the quiet moments that he most felt the weight of the world and dread for tomorrow.
But Kokichi snuggles up to him and lays his head on his shoulder.
And quietly, so quiet that it's barely audible, he whispers. "I'm glad you're alive too, dummy."
When Shuichi wakes up the next morning, he's in his room. The morning announcement plays, as usual, and signifies the start of his day.
As he showers and dresses, he thinks about his night, about Ouma and how nice it felt to hold him. The announcement blares on as he slips into his uniform and tries to clear his head on his way to the dining hall.
From the sounds of it, he’s the last one to arrive. And though his mind still sticks on Ouma's words from last night- I’m glade you’re alive too -he braces himself and enters through the double doors.
Immediately, all eyes are on him.
"Shuichi! You aren't gonna believe it, this punk-"
"Kaito, I wouldn't be so quick to turn my back if I were you…"
"Ah! You little!"
Kaito shakes his fist, then makes a mad dash for him. Of course, agile as he is, Kokichi is quick to evade and let him collide with one of the dining hall's empty chairs.
Shuichi smiles.
"Something on your mind, Shuichi?" Kiibo startles him.
"Ah, good morning Kiibo." Still, the detective is quick to collect himself. "It's ah, nothing you need to worry about." Watching Kaito and Kokichi entertain their usual game of cat and mouse, he feels both at ease and a little lonely. "I was just remembering a dream I had last night."
With the fury of a thousand suns, Kaito lunges at him, catching hold of Kokichi's wrist. "I got you now, you little-" And when it falls out from his sleeve, the astronaut lets out an ear-piercing scream from the depths of his throat.
Kiibo winces. "Was it a good dream?"
Shuichi hums, watching as Kokichi stumbles back. Pushing his real arm through the vacant hole, he holds his hands to his ears, laughing gleefully. As he moves, Shuichi catches a glimpse of last night's bandages peaking out from under his pant leg. When Kokichi notices him, he smiles back and waves, kicking up his foot to give the detective a better view before focusing his attention back on Kaito.
Shuichi's heart flutters, his answer obvious from the start. "Yes."