true death is only sweeter - saiouma

beloved reality

Kokichi tried not to smile. No, no, just because Shuichi had brought him to his room even though he was so close to finding out the truth did not mean he wouldn't leave him to die once he knew. And just because he'd let Kokichi sleep in his bed didn't mean he would ever forgive him. And just because he was completely and utterly present and here and in the room and directly in Kokichi's vicinity which was honestly so much more than Kokichi deserved did not at all even remotely mean that he would stay there.

No. No. Kokichi should be focusing on faking sleep for as long as possible. Anything to stay in the same room as Shuichi, to be pressed between the same sheets where he laid at night (Kokichi was definitely trying hard not to think about that).

But as Kokichi lay there, sheets shifting against his hospital gown, surrounded by the whirling notes of Shuichi's occasional typing and the faint beeps and bops of the hospital, the constant pounding and chaos in his head dulled. Something was so comforting about the boy in the room with Kokichi. He'd forgotten this feeling, somehow, the soft, gentle lull in the world, like their own little bubble.

So, yeah. It was hard not to smile.

Shuichi sighed a few feet away. The typing continued. So solid. So real. So tangible. And yet, Kokichi thought ruefully, so far away. Both emotionally and, now that he thought of it, physically. Guilt burned at him, but Kokichi couldn't help but imagine Shuichi's warm arms around him, while he whispered kind lullabies like there was nowhere else he'd rather be. The image was so visceral Kokichi ached to beg Shuichi to even hold his hand while he slept. If only. Any slight caress, any pet of his hair... Shuichi would never know the comfort that they would bring. If he did, Kokichi was sure, he'd move across the globe and change his name. Anything to avoid some friend he didn't even remember, a stranger, basically, whose entire sanity was completely reliant on Shuichi's existence.

Thinking about Shuichi like that felt strange when they were in the same room. Flesh and blood. So close, and so strange, that in this entire universe, the two of them were merely moments away from contact. That was what was true in the world. So long as Shuichi was real, maybe Kokichi was too, if even only for that precious overlap of actuality that they'd somehow stumbled into.

Kokichi's bones ached, and his head hurt, and calm was washing over him— what? Drowsiness began to nip at the edges of his eyes. Another sensation he'd nearly forgotten. Something about reality was slipping away. Maybe it was Kokichi. Yes, that was right, it was the Kokichi that was fading out of reality and into deep darkness, solemn and beautiful. Just like Shuichi, Kokichi thought, his last coherent flicker of consciousness.

The lovely lonely wonderland of sleep claimed Kokichi as her own. She wrapped her tendrils around him, once more, relearning the taste of his soul. A soul stained with pink blood and Panta, different than before, finally reentering her kingdom. One that had once again reunited with his other half, staying tethered to the waking world only through the flawed creature that was Shuichi Saihara.

A blissful wander that would never be remembered.

Kokichi woke up to Shuichi gently stroking his hair, pulling him back to the waking world. He murmured, still partially asleep.

"I'm sorry, Ou." Shuichi whispered. "I know you're tired. I'm sorry," he repeated.

Kokichi buried further into the covers, making sure to push his head a bit further towards Shuichi, who didn't stop his soft pets.

"You were crying." Shuichi said quietly. Kokichi's eyes were still closed, and now that he mentioned it, slightly damp. "You were crying, and you were saying my name." He peered curiously at Kokichi, who reluctantly sat up a bit, resisting the stubborn urge to snuggle closer to Shuichi.

"You called me Ou," Kokichi whispered. His voice was crackly from sleep, and his tongue formed the words slowly.

Shuichi flushed a bit. It was the first time Kokichi had seen him even remotely flustered since the killing game, and his heart nearly broke right there and then.

"I did. Do you... dislike it?" There was that awkwardness Kokichi remembered. "I just thought... never mind." Shuichi's voice trailed off, and he looked away.

"No, I think it's sweet," Kokichi said softly. Shuichi's eyes stubbornly remained fixed on the ground. Kokichi could practically see the complicated gears twirling as he got lost in his head. No, no, no, he couldn't let Shuichi drift away, not when he was here again, please, anything but that.

Inhaling, Kokichi leaned over, resting his head on Shuichi's shoulder. He squeezed his eyes shut, preparing to be harshly shoved away, Shuichi once more regaining the upper hand and Kokichi being the vulnerable one. Just to draw Shuichi out of his head. Bring him back into the real world, where Kokichi was pathetic and dying and so much less than Shuichi deserved.

Strange that Kokichi had ever thought him predictable.

Shuichi wrapped a tender arm around him, drawing him closer, running his fingers through Kokichi's purple hair and closing his eyes with a sigh. Kokichi practically melted into him, feeling more relaxed than he thought was possible. He felt the tugs of sleep yanking insistently again. Sleep, another thing he thought he'd never see again. Shuichi was so warm, and so soft, and so much more than the harsh cold air of Kokichi's hospital room. His dulcet fingers threaded repeatedly along Kokichi's scalp and neck and behind his ears.

"Don't fall asleep again." Shuichi's voice broke the silence. But he said it kindly, and it sounded breathy and clear and close, and Kokichi focused on that because real-Shuichi was infinitely better than the dream-Shuichi that had haunted his hallucinations late into the nights alone in his hospital room. Sometimes dream-Shuichi was the one under the hydraulic press. Sometimes he was the one to push the button. Sometimes he took one look at Kokichi, splayed out, ready for the clutches of heaven or hell, and walked away without a second thought.

Yes, this Shuichi was positively the perfect version. The only one who let Kokichi slip into any semblance of slumber.

Shuichi's chest rose and fell deeply. Almost too calmly. His hand slowed, staying tangled in Kokichi's hair, who glanced up at him reverently only to see his eyes peacefully shut, smears of leftover mascara still visible.

"Beloved..." Kokichi breathed, "I'm sorry. Again." He allowed his dull dark eyes to fall closed and his breathing to slow.

"I said," Shuichi mumbled, "don't fall asleep. Just... can we stay like this? The outside world can wait for us." He tucked his arms around Kokichi, cupping the back of his neck so tenderly Kokichi nearly wept.

"Of course." Anything for you, he wished he could add. Kokichi felt his entire body go lax, putty in Shuichi's hands.

Warmth. It had been so cold in Kokichi's room, just a single sheet and his gown separating him from the biting air of abandonment. He could barely remember it now. It all seemed like it'd just been a bad trip, some sort of fever dream, and this was the only thing that had ever been real. Really, though, it was the opposite. But Kokichi let himself forget that, just for this moment. The outside world can wait.

Shuichi's breath washed over him, sweet and vaguely reminiscent of blueberries. His hair was spread across the pillow beside him, and his clothes were rumpled, and really, if he'd asked Kokichi to take a knife and slice every vein in his battered body he wouldn't hesitate for a second. But Shuichi, lovely, sensitive Shuichi who tugged at what was left of Kokichi's heart, chose to just lay beside him in a tangle of limbs, breaths mixing, vulnerable.

In that perfect space between them, Kokichi let himself believe that maybe, just maybe, he was not alone.