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If Kokichi had the authority of God and the ability to smite anyone that he so desired, he would start with Kaede. Then, going mad with power, he would move on to Kaito just because he could. Then he’d smite Miu for much the same reason that he decided to smite Kaito and so on and so forth. This trend would continue until every single one of his godforsaken classmates was exterminated from planet Earth because Jesus Christ they were such assholes.
Of course the day after Kaede had accidentally found out about his stupid crush on Shuichi the entire fucking class had cancelled on their movie plans. Of course, because Kaede was such a blabbermouth that he felt bad for whoever ended up marrying her and her inevitable spilling of their most intimate secrets, Kaede had spilt the entire fucking can of beans to their class. Throughout the day, as more and more classmates cancelled, he had gotten strings of various encouraging words as though the fuckers were actually cheering him on. Even Korekiyo had sent him a text: “I wish you the best of luck wherever your fate may take you; human love is such a beautiful thing. With two beautiful people, it is sure to blossom magnificently.” Yeah. What a creepy motherfucker.
And now, in Hope’s Peak's very own theatre that the class of 79-B had booked for just over two hours, Shuichi and Kokichi sat watching a teen flick from the 80s, Pretty in Pink, that for whatever reason had Spanish subtitles that were impossible to turn off. Although the movie was nearly impossible to decipher except for the few bits of English that Kokichi could pick up, Shuichi was mouthing the strange words that the foreigners on screen would say as though he knew them by heart. Who’d have thunk it: a genius detective who had a hard-on for cheesy teen dramas.
Kokichi may have a ridiculously idiotic crush on the young detective and every time he saw him his brain might turn to mush, but that didn’t stop his mouth from being just as sharp and quick as it always was.
“Oooo~! Pretty in Pink, hm, Saihara-chan? I never knew you had such a soft spot for cheesy teen romances!”
And Shuichi jumped as though he had forgotten that Kokichi was even there. His fists clenched against his knees and the bottom of his neck flushed in the darkness of the theatre, only illuminated from the screen that was still playing. Frankly at this point Kokichi had no interest in the movie whatsoever. He hadn’t been able to understand a damn thing for the past thirty minutes and Shuichi’s transfixation with the screen was far more appealing. For at least ten minutes Kokichi had been spying on Shuichi out of the corner of his eye, just waiting for an opportunity to make his leap and have Shuichi pay attention to him and only him.
Shuichi met his eye, blinking those long lashes as though he were completely oblivious to the effect that it was having on Kokichi’s very being. “My mom always watched this movie with me when I was a kid. It was her favorite. I guess it grew on me too,” he said, a little chuckle escaping past his lips as he finished. Shuichi tucked a bit of stray hair that was in his face behind his ear, smiling wistfully as he closed his eyes and a memory surely danced behind those fantastical eyelids. Kokichi imagined a pair, a mother and a son, sitting in front of a plasma screen TV - Shuichi’s parents were rich, after all - and bingeing Pretty in Pink like there was nothing else in the world to do, rocking back and forth as Shuichi’s mother whispered the Japanese translation into his ear.
There wasn’t much to be said after that. Kokichi rocked from side to side, watching the movie lazily as though he could actually understand it. Shuichi had no problem keeping up, still whispering the words to the movie like it was his testimony. It had to have at least been an hour by this point and Kokichi’s eyelids were getting awfully lazy; he hadn’t slept much the previous night, still traumatized over the fact that Kaede had found and read his diary of all things. The stress that he had experienced over the fact that he was going on his first (unofficial) date with Shuichi had caused wrinkles to appear on his forehead and bags to slowly start appearing underneath his eyes. He must’ve looked like a hot mess.
And this time, as Kokichi’s head lolled to the side and as his view of the screen became blurry, Shuichi spoke up: “Um… are you okay?”
Kokichi didn’t even know what he said in response to that; perhaps he passively grunted, or perhaps he said something that was actually coherent and intelligent. Regardless, the next thing he knew Shuichi had his arm around his shoulder and his head was in Shuichi’s chest. God, the fast beating of his heart was more of an energizer than any cold shower could be, but despite himself he didn’t squeak, he didn’t flinch, he froze.
Shuichi laid a slender hand upon his hair, stroking the fine strands that required meticulous styling every single day. If Shuichi were any other person Kokichi would’ve batted his hand away and said something along the lines of “no touchy”. However, Shuichi wasn’t any other person. Shuichi was Shuichi and holy shit this was actually happening.
“If you were actually conscious, you’d probably kill me right about now. Or ruin my reputation. I don’t do this with just anyone, I swear.”
Wait a second… did Shuichi think he was actually asleep?
And double wait a second… what the hell did he mean by that?
Shuichi continued stroking his hair and he even began rocking back and forth, oblivious to Kokichi’s inner turmoil. “It’s okay. You can sleep now.”
Looking back on it, the instance was probably a fever dream caused by one too many nights of sleep deprivation. It was all in his head, surely, and Kokichi really couldn’t trust his own judgement when he heard the soft whispers of Shuichi’s voice nor when the tip of Shuichi’s fingers hit his neck and his pulse as they brushed back his hair. If nothing else it was surely a practical joke on Shuichi’s end - or, maybe it was a practical joke performed by the entire class! Yes, that would make the most sense… surely.
Shuichi’s fingertips brushed past his pulse again.
“God… this would all be way too embarrassing if you were awake, huh?”
Stop it.
“I don’t quite know why. It’s stupid but…”
This is too much.
“I’ve always had a bit of an… interest in you. I don’t really know how to put it, but you’re always one step ahead, you know? And I want to keep chasing you and chasing you but… I don’t know how. Kaede… she’s really sneaky, huh? She set this whole thing up, I bet. I should've never told her about my stupid crush…”
Yep. Kokichi was dead. Rest in motherfucking pieces, bitch.
And as the movie continued playing in that foreign language and as the very tips of Shuichi’s fingers trailed through his hair, Kokichi’s heart was racing. It was racing so fast that Shuichi surely could tell that he was awake - he was a detective for Christ’s sake! - but he still kept carrying on his ministrations like nothing was wrong. Kokichi’s eyes were still heavy and he was still so damn tired and he could feel himself fall more and more asleep with every stroke of Shuichi’s hand but he had never been more aware in his entire life.
He wanted to say something. Perhaps he’d say some boring garbage like, “I like you too, Saihara-chan!”, scaring him out of his wits and then they’d live a happily ever after or some stupid shit like that… Or perhaps Shuichi would realize what a lying sack of shit he was and he’d realize that only a truly manipulative bastard would act like he was sleeping when he was spilling his guts out.
Kokichi wanted to say something - anything really! He wanted to say something completely inappropriate that would drive Shuichi to the hills. He wanted to say something adorable that would make Shuichi fawn over him. He wanted to hurt himself, he wanted to hurt Shuichi, he wanted to love himself and Shuichi - Gah, even his emotions were deceitful little shits!
Kokichi wanted to say a lot of things.
In that moment as Pretty in Pink played and as Shuichi’s heart rate slowed down and as he once again began whispering the foreign words of the movie, he couldn't do it. Not yet. He sank into Shuichi’s grasp, a tiny smile gracing his features as he marvelled on how fucking ironic it was that he, the King of Liars and Asshole-ness, was actually holding his tongue for once.
As the world faded to black and as Shuichi’s ministrations slowed and slowed and eventually came to a stop, he had never been happier.