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When they met, it was something out of a cheesy rom-com. They bumped into each other in the hallway, books and papers flying everywhere, staring at each other in bewilderment before laughing from where they had fallen on the floor. In that moment, they didn’t care that everyone else was staring at them. The two of them could have been the only people on earth.
They learned names after that, walking to the class they hadn’t known they’d shared until then. Naegi Makoto and Ikusaba Mukuro. Naegi pointed out that their given names were similar - y’know, with the ‘M’ and the ‘k’ and they both end in ‘o’ - and it was all Mukuro could do not to burst out laughing again because that was so dumb but he looked so excited when he said it like an adorable little puppy, fluffy hair and all.
Ever since that day they’ve been glued at the hip, eating lunch together and meeting up before class and studying together after school. Mukuro was surprised at how easily she opened up to him; the only person she had been close to previously was her sister. (And even still physical contact always made her flighty. She guessed it came with her… occupation.) But with Naegi, it felt like the most natural thing in the world to lean against his shoulder, carry him on her back, or to just lay sprawled out on his bed, their legs stacked like lincoln logs. They became best friends before she could blink.
In the last month of their school year, at the class Christmas party, Kirigiri - in a shocking display of playfulness - caught the two of them under a sprig of mistletoe, and smirked at them as Naegi, red-faced, stood on his tip-toes to place a fleeting, feather-light kiss on her cheek. The place his lips touched burned for the rest of the party.
They started dating a week later. Mukuro felt like she was in a dream.
She didn’t even think about him finding out - he was so trusting and so open and never asked why she’d disappear for days and come back solemn. He’d just smile and welcome her back and give her a hug - he gave very nice hugs - and offer to watch a cheesy movie with her. It wasn’t until he fell on the sidewalk and skinned his hands the scrapes welling up with pale gray ichor, that she realized her blood wouldn’t lie.
After that she became paranoid. She’d walk around like she was stepping on eggshells, since one wrong move could mean broken skin and a broken heart (because there’s no doubt he would dump her when he saw her ooze inky, pitch-black blood, the telltale sign of those corrupted by unforgivable sin). She started wearing only long sleeves and pants, even as the temperatures increased as summer break appeared on the horizon. Naegi, of course, started to worry, but he didn’t press her for answers, which she expected. Still, there’s a crease between his eyebrows that didn’t fade, and every concerned look he thought she didn’t see stabbed her in the gut.
(Junko, who had just returned from a tour, confronted her one night. She commented that Mukuro’s shirt was so out of season, and after raking her sleeves up to make sure she ‘doesn’t have to check her into a shrink’, she asked what the ‘heckity fuck’ was wrong with her. Mukuro spilled her guts, free and unshackled with her twin, who still knew her better than the boy who she thought might be her soulmate. Junko told her not to worry, that Naegi wasn’t going to care about her hitman jobs, that he’ll understand if she just sat down and talked to him. But Mukuro’s anxiety shot down the idea immediately, and the older sister just sighed and shook her head.)
It all came crashing down two days later.
They were sitting in Naegi’s room, going through a homework packet, when Mukuro got careless and flipped a page the wrong way, the edge slicing through the pad of her pointer finger. She yelped before she could stop herself, and in a white-hot flash of panic she clamped two of the fingers on her other hand down over the cut. Naegi, of course, ran over immediately, and before she could even voice that she’s fine, really, he was running into his bathroom to get bandaids
Each second he was one ate away at her, because this was it, this was the moment she was going to lose the only person she’s ever… loved. She loved him, she realized, and almost laughed at how ironic it was. You never know what you have until you lose it , they say. Now she knew that first-hand.
Her soon-to-be-ex boyfriend rushed back to her side, holding a bandaid that’s decorated from some children’s cartoon, and told her to show him the cut. She shook her head, swallowing the lump in her throat, and said that she’s fine, it’s no big deal, but Naegi didn’t budge. Mukuro felt tears sting her eyes as she relented, releasing the death grip she had held on her finger. For a fleeting moment, it didn’t bleed, and she allowed herself to hope that the wound wasn’t deep enough to draw blood, and that nothing had to change. Then it darkened, and midnight black spilled out, and all her hope was lost.
She didn’t have to look at Naegi to feel his hesitation, the way he tensed up beside her. She didn’t want to, anyway; she was a coward, and didn’t want to see the betrayal, the hurt, the disgust on his face now that her sins were bared to him. So she kept her head down, and waited for the world to fall apart.
Except it didn’t . Naegi leaned over her, and took her hand, and wiped the excess blood off her finger with his thumb before wrapping it in the bandaid. Without any pause, he lifted her hand, and pressed a kiss against where the cut would be. It was gentle and warm, and Mukuro’s vision started to swirl.
She told him everything, about the hitman job she accepted when she was only 11, just so she could get her and her sister off of the streets. About how she had such a talent for it - for killing , the worst sin of all, that tainted her blood dark gray after just a month - that they managed to get a steady, livable income with just her scattered odd jobs. About her staying with it after Junko got her modeling job, and how she claimed it was just for backup savings even though, in reality, she was terrified of leaving. About the nightmares where she drowned in pure white blood, and woke up shaking.
When it’s all over, and she’s curled up in his desk chair, she asked him if he hated her. He didn’t answer for a few long moments, and she could feel her heart plummeting into her stomach. He did. He totally hated her. He thought she was disgusting. He was going to look at her with those dead eyes she had nightmares about for a week and tell her to get out of his room, that he never wanted to see her again. And she would hold her head up and leave with whatever scrap of dignity she still had, breaking down as soon as the door to her room closed behind her and crying until her eyes were dry and her entire self was split in two because oh god she loved him -
Mukuro, he said, and a shiver ran down her spine, because she had never heard her first name in Makoto’s voice. There was a hand on her cheek, and she let it tilt her head up, and she couldn’t look away from his face once their eyes met. She had expected neutrality, prepared for burning fury, and was met with compassion and the brightest smile he’s ever given her. He told her it’s okay, and that he’s not upset, don’t cry, lovely. He wiped away the tears she didn’t know had fallen, and said he’ll help her get out of it, if she wanted to, but that he’s not gonna hate her for what happened in the past.
And then he told her that he loved her, and everything that had ever happened in Mukuro’s life before suddenly became insignificant.
I love you too
, she whispered, tears in her eyes, and Makoto held her so tight she forgot how to fall apart.