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"It's a lie!" Ouma lifted his throbbing head off the floor, trying his hardest to plaster a smile to his face and laugh everything off. "Nishishi… Did I surprise you? Were you gonna scream and cry in terror?"
"Wh-What are you doing?"
It Ouma a second to process the sounds that came out of Saihara's mouth into a coherent sentence.
"Oh, sorry… I'm just… a little lightheaded from the bloodloss…" It was pointless to try to hide it. Not when what exactly had happened was clear as day. Not when his entire face was covered in... "Yeah, this is real blood," Ouma muttered.
"Okay, so what are you doing?" Saihara's voice grew more impatient.
Fuck. Yes, the investigation. Of course… Ouma would probably be completely useless for the rest of it, so the least he could do was share his findings… As hard as it was to say anything between his breaths that were so deep and fast, yet still weren't nearly enough. As hard as it was to hear Saihara and Harukawa's voices as they slowly drowned within the low muffled ringing in Ouma's ears.
He explained what happened. At least, he thought he did. After a while the two 'sidekicks' seemed to have gotten what they wanted and went on their way, leaving Ouma alone in the dark, moldy corridor. He collapsed back onto the floor, sighing with relief. This was a little better. Not by much, but still. At least lying down he could hear his thoughts again.
He had to go though. He just had to. To the dorms, or just to the nearest bathroom - he couldn't just continue to bleed out on the floor. He'd have to go to the courtyard for the trial anyway, so if anything, this would give him a head start, but…
Just the thought of standing up made him want to vomit.
But he had to. He had to, he had to, he had to… Repeating those words to himself and holding onto a wall for support, Ouma slowly rose up and wobbled down the corridor.
Was… Was it really okay for him to leave like this? Would Saihara handle the rest of the investigation okay? Surely, he would miss something. Something that could be crucial. Maybe Ouma just had to suck it up and continue. Everyone's lives were at stake, and there he was, leaving the scene because he didn't watch his step and hit his head. Pathetic. Maybe he…
No, no… what was he thinking? Of course he had to leave. He'd just get in the way. Everything would be fine, Saihara knew what he was doing, Ouma just had to trust him this once, as much as he didn't want to…
Ouma stopped in his tracks, staring down in front of him. The stairs. He'd reached the stairs and now he had to walk down. Still lightheaded, shaking, fighting the urge to just fall over and sink into the welcoming abyss of unconsciousness. If he falls down those stairs, he might not make it for the trial…
"Ouma?" an all-too-familiar voice interrupted his thoughts... The voice of the one and only space dumbass. "Shit, what happened?" Momota rushed up the stairs and held Ouma by his shoulders, providing some much needed support.
Ouma tried to say 'Just fell', but the only sound he could muster was a quiet, painful groan.
"Okay, gotcha…" Momota muttered. "Come on, lean on me, I'll walk you to the dorms."
Ouma couldn't protest even if he wanted to. He clung to Momota as if his life depended on it, feeling just a tiny bit of relief now that he didn't have to rely on himself for balance.
How embarrassing… All he'd had to do was watch his fucking step. Then everything would've been fine. Then he wouldn't have to be all… vulnerable in front of someone. In front of Momota, of all people…
"Hey, Ouma," he felt the astronaut squeezing his shoulder a bit tighter. "You okay? I mean, I know you're not, but like… can you walk?"
Ouma murmured something vaguely resembling an affirmation.
"What if I just…" The ground escaped from under Ouma's feet and moments later, he found himself in Momota's arms. The bastard was holding him goddamn bridal style. "There. That's better, right?" Momota grinned.
That was, in fact, not in any way better. If what came before was embarrassing, this was just straight up humiliating.
But, at the same time… It was warm. It was cozy. All other thoughts slowly went away, leaving Ouma with nothing but the simple want to relax and...
"Feel free to pass out, if you want to."
As if he needed Momota's permission.
Something cool and wet slid across Ouma's face, jolting him awake.
"Ah, shit, sorry-" Momota instantly muttered and backed off, holding a bloodied towel in his hand. "I was just- Y'know, trying to… clean this up…"
"It's… fine, you're fine," Ouma sighed, taking a look around him. A bedroom, but certainly not his. "How long was I out?" he finally asked.
"Not that long, we just got here, basically… Ah, the investigation is still going, if that's what you're asking."
"Okay, good…" Ouma sighed again, staring up at the ceiling. Normally, his mind would be racing right now, overthinking every detail of the case, anxiously waiting for the investigation time to end, but now? It just... wasn't. Not a single thought came to mind. Ouma just stared off into space, his mind blank, with nothing else to distract him… Other than Momota sitting right beside him, that is. Sitting and peering at him, with that gross, pitying look on his face.
"What?" Ouma asked, throwing the other boy an annoyed glare.
"Are you okay?"
"I'm fine ."
"What happened there?"
"A stupid floorboard was loose. That's it."
Momota's eyes lowered as he awkwardly chewed on his lip. "...Sorry," he almost whispered.
"For what?"
"Maybe if I was there, I could've prevented that… I want to be useful, I really do, but I just… can't bring myself to go there."
"So you've been hanging out near the stairs instead? Yeah, real fucking useful." Ouma tried to sit up on the bed only to immediately collapse back down, the sickening headache coming back the instant he moved.
"Hey, easy there…" Momota gently pet Ouma's shoulder. "Try not to move too much."
"Figured that already…" Ouma groaned in response.
"Hold on a sec," Momota scooted over a bit and opened a bedside table drawer, looking for something. Ouma couldn't see much, aside from numerous packs of pills.
That was… way too many pills…
"Here," Momota handed him a pack. "Some painkillers. Should last you for now."
"...Thanks," Ouma muttered, popping a couple into his mouth.
"Want some water?"
"Y… Yeah…"
"Okay, be right back." Momota stood up and walked away from the bed, finally giving Ouma some space.
He buried his face in his hands. This felt weird. This whole thing. So fucking weird. Momota genuinely caring for Ouma, neither of them getting on each other's nerves, just… talking. This felt wrong, but at the same time, felt so good.
...Why couldn't they get along like this all the time?
Ouma tugged on his hair. How stupid. He knew exactly why they couldn't get along. It was no one's fault but his own...
"One water, coming up," Momota said in a cheerful yet quiet voice, placing a full glass onto the bedside table.
"Shut up…" Ouma muttered, picking it up, lifting his head a bit, and taking a sip.
Momota watched him for a moment, obviously wanting to say something, but holding back. "...Hey, Ouma? Can I… You know…"
"What?"
"Take a look at it? Your head- Your wound, that is."
A quiet sigh escaped Ouma's lips. He didn't know what he'd expected him to say, but he couldn't help feeling a little disappointed. "Sure, whatever."
Momota nodded and sat next to him, leaning over, a little too close for comfort. The astronaut carefully brushed Ouma's hair out of the way, sending shivers up his spine. Momota's touch, the warmth of his body so close to Ouma's own, the subtle sensation of his breaths hitting Ouma's forehead, all of it was… overwhelming.
It shouldn't have felt like so much, it really shouldn't have, but it did. Though, as much as Ouma hated to admit it, he didn't hate it nearly as much as he thought he would. And it's not like he could do anything to make it stop. All Ouma could do was shyly lower his eyes, wait for it to end, and hope that Momota wouldn't notice Ouma's racing heartbeat or the blush on his cheeks after everything would be over.
"W-Well?" Ouma asked, hoping that talking would make the astronaut hurry up.
"Not as deep as I thought it'd be. Should heal on its own, I think," Momota backed off and gave Ouma a reassuring smile. "I guess we lucked out."
'We'.
Momota probably didn't mean anything by it, but for some reason, that word alone was enough to fill Ouma's chest with warmth. He wasn't supposed to feel this way… Getting attached would only make things more difficult going forward…
"We'll know if we 'lucked out' if I manage to get through the trial without fucking dying and embarassing myself…" Ouma muttered under his breath.
"...You're going to the trial?" Momota asked.
"What choice do I have?"
"But, I mean… The wound may not be deep, but you still lost a lot of blood. You really don't look so good… I'll talk to Monokuma, maybe he'll let you sit this one out. I'm sure he wouldn't like it either if you passed out in the middle of it-"
"Momota-chan," Ouma interrupted, finally managing to sit up, though still wincing from the pain. "It's fine. I'll be fine. I just need a minute."
Just as he said this, he moved a bit farther than expected and accidentally leaned against Momota's shoulder. The astronaut didn't say anything, but there was no way he didn't notice or didn't think anything of it… Desperate to distract himself from their touching shoulders, but also not wanting to move, Ouma let his eyes wander around the room. His eyes just happened to glance over the bedside table.
"That's a lot of pills to have lying around, Momota-chan," he said, more to fill the silence than anything else.
"Ah, that…" Momota averted his eyes. "I… had a headache a few days ago, took a bunch from the storage room without looking, and was too lazy to return the ones I didn't need."
"Hmm. Well, you should do that. Someone might need them."
"Nah, Monokuma restokes them every night anyway."
"I see…" Ouma nodded to himself. "You're a horrible liar, you know that, right?"
Momota sighed. "Compared to you, yeah."
"You're not dying or anything, right?"
"Psh, no fucking way. I'm not dying until I get to space."
Before Ouma had a chance to pry any further, a painfully familiar chime played out from the speakers, the TV screen lighting up to display the bear with his unchanging sadistic grin.
"Looks like it's time," Ouma said with a bitter smile. "And here I hoped I'd at least get to rest until the painkillers kicked in…"
"...Hey, Ouma?" Momota asked after a short pause, his tone weirdly timid. " You're not gonna die either, right?"
Ouma felt a chill run up his back. "We're in a killing game, Momota-chan," he said with a sigh. "I'll do whatever I have to."
"...To survive?"
"In general." Ouma had to nip this conversation in the bud before he accidentally blurted out anything unnecessary. He got up. "Come on. Everyone's waiting."
"Ouma," Momota reached out and grabbed his hand. "I can never tell what you're thinking, but… I know you're not as bad as you try to seem. If there's anything I could ever help you with, just tell me-"
"Fuck, what's gotten into you? Geez…" Ouma reflexively yanked his hand back. A small, quiet part of him instantly regretted that, already missing the astronaut's warm touch. "Listen, Momota-chan," he said. "What happened here… let's not talk about this, okay? Neither of us saw each other."
"W-What? Why?"
"But," Ouma added, "thank you. Really, I mean it. I owe you one."
He forced himself to take a few steps towards the door, fighting the foolish impulse to give Momota a hug.