Starry Nights and Kisses

When they come for my things.

Sorry this is really bad lol, it's mainly just a phat vent so massive TW for sewerslide n stuff.

Kokichi wakes up slowly, like he’s pushing his way past the surface of oil. His eyes struggle to stay open as he tries to gather his bearings and the first thing he realizes is the odd feeling on his left arm, an itching just beneath his elbow. The second thing is that he’s awake all together.

And if he’s awake that could only mean……….

………

could only mean..?

…..

Something isn’t right.

Why? What’s happening again, where is he? Think think think. Itching in arm. Needle? Cannula.  The smell of chlorine and antibacterial. The warmth in his right hand. The IV drip? Cheap buckets full of vomit……...Which means..? think think think think think thiknkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthinkthink tihknkokcihiwakeuppleasethink-

Ah ,  it dawns on him a little too late, as sleep threatens to take him again.

This means I failed.

_____

He was really going to do this.

A low buzz of excitement went through him as he glanced at the figure still sleeping in the bed. A small tinge of guilt twisted in his stomach, but he pushed it down immediately. This is for the best.

Still, he remains in the doorway for now, pondering at the room. It was clean for once as well. He’d tidied all of his mess away, his little parting gift. Once I’m gone, Momota-chan will finally have the clean room he always nagged about.

The only mess is the out of place note on the drawer, with a little goodbye scribbled on it with a dry marker.

He feels a little giddy honestly. People say that you don’t appreciate what you have until it’s gone, so that’s what he’s doing. Appreciating the little life he had inside this cramped bedroom. All the morning kisses, and the late nights spent in warm arms and drowned out whispers sweeter than milk and honey.

And the big lopsided smiles and boisterous laughs, the hand holding and comforting. The dance of heroes and villains, of winners and losers.Soft lips murmuring “I believe in you.” at his darkest hours.

But all good things must come to an end.

And Kokichi’s already outworn his welcome by a longshot. He has to let Momota go now.

He’s had his fun. Now it’s time to wake up. He’s seen that broken weary look in his lover's eyes after Momota comforts him after another nightmare. After bandaging him up. After convincing him to eat. After another failed therapy session. Time and time again, that anguished look wondering if he was ever actually going to get better.

That’s the saddest thing. Momota’s the sun, and he warms everything he touches. Ouma wants to say he’s the moon himself, but he’s not that grand. He’s not even a star or any other brilliant wonder that his boyfriend adores.

He’s a parasite.

He’ll take and take and he’ll never have enough to give to repay.

But that’s okay. This world wasn’t quite built for him, and he wasn’t made from the right mold to fit this life. He’s tired of taking from people who are too good for the likes of him. He’s already wasted so much of their time.

So, with one last little act of selfishness, he steals a kiss from Momota, a quick press on his forehead before he silently creeps out and quietly shuts the door. He catches his own reflection in the window as he’s leaving, and gives himself a little thumbs up.

It’s time to go now, Kokichi.

______

When Kokichi wakes up again, it’s due to a dull soreness throughout his whole body and the sharp sunlight pouring through the open curtains. He can’t help but cringe a little, at both the brightness and pain.

As he comes to his senses, he hopes and begs to whatever higher power is out there that Momota doesn’t know yet. Maybe he’s at home still, pacing with worry waiting for him to come home and tell him it was a joke. He could go home and Momota would never need to know.

But no such luck apparently, as the door to his hospital room opens and Momota walks in, slouched over and clearly exhausted carrying two little plastic cups full of water. Until he looks over at the bed.

A little gasp and the cups drop to the floor, spilling their contents as Momota rushes to his side as soon as possible. His hands fluttering in a way that reminded Kokichi of a time lapse photo, frantically hovering around him like they couldn’t find something precious. They must have found it though, as those tender hands settle for his face, brushing back his hair like he’s being checked for injuries.

Momota’s mouth hangs in a state of not quite open but certainly not closed, as if he’s truly fighting for the right words. And Kokichi prepares himself for the unanswerable questions and quiet accusations. For all the why’s and how’s and harder things.

They don’t come though.

When Kaito finally finds his words, it’s a few whispers as he rests his forehead against his Kokichi’s, hands still cupping his face. “ I’ve got you. Shhh I’ve got you now, Kichi, it’s okay. I’ve got you”

Too many emotions pile up at once, bubbling and boiling inside of him and he feels it threatening to spill out everywhere. He’s suffocating and drowning and he can’t tell if he hates this or not. If he couldn’t possibly deserve this then why does it feel so good?

He clutches at the back of Kaito’s shirt, hands curling up into tight balls as his body shakes. He didn’t cry, but his chest rises and falls with dry sobs. When was the last time he cried properly again? It felt like his body had almost forgotten the mechanisms of releasing tears as he heaved more.

But Kaito stayed there with him the whole time, holding him with glistening eyes. And later, when the nurses and professionals swarmed in like an interrogation team, of course Kaito remained right by his side.

Kokichi may not be the moon, but he’s been lucky enough to have the sun all to himself. He’s wasted so much of his time on his own misery. He’s not alone, but maybe that’s okay.

Being alive is the hardest thing we will ever experience. Some days blur together to the point where it’s all meaningless. But as long as he’s alive, he has a chance that things will get better. As long as he’s alive. There’s no requirements of fight and struggle, just sticking around is enough.

This life may not want him, but the sun does and he’s got all the time in the world to die.

Maybe he might just learn to live first.