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there was something to be said for the dark. the bright light of the outside world was a relief after escaping the ultimate academy. it was a comfort, a way to push back against the nightmares that haunted them. but even amongst all the fears that came at night, the darkness allowed for honesty.
their apartment had two bedrooms. shuichi took the smaller one, while maki and himiko shared the master. it was merely out of necessity at first, but gradually, they both started to welcome the warmth of another body in bed beside them. moonlight filtered in through the window blinds, tracing stripes along the fluffy comforter. they laid in a tangle of limbs, curled towards each other like plants reaching for the sun. towards the foot of the bed, curled up in a tight ball, was the cat they rescued off the street. a fuzzy gray head nudged against maki's calf.
ghosts lingered in the shadows — toujou, shinguuji. they were always there, present here as surely as shuichi was on the other side of the wall. their names were rarely spoken, but that silence only made them more tangible.
traffic whooshed past outside. laughter echoed up from the streets, friends and couples out on a friday night. there was no excitement here though, every interaction slow and subdued.
himiko ran her fingers through maki's hair, loose from its scrunchies. she closed her eyes, focusing on that tactile sensation. she leaned a little closer, nuzzling against her neck. her shampoo smelled like strawberries, so different from lavender and rosemary, but it was soft, and she could pretend.
maki trailed her hand along himiko's spine, and the way the smaller girl pressed into her touch was so different from the measured, hesitant acceptance she was used to. but god, himiko needed this, and she did too, and maybe if she just called up old memories to paper over this, she could pretend.
there were scars lining maki's limbs, scattered all across her body. allegedly, they were from her past as an assassin. they'd probably never know where they really came from, before shirogane rewrote her past. they weren't quite in the right places, didn't feel quite the same, but it was easier for himiko than coming into contact with unmarked skin. she let her own hair fall into her face a little more at times like this, let maki brush it out of her eyes. she leaned in and held her breath without meaning to when lips met her forehead.
both of them were too short, but that wasn't so noticeable while laying down. and other times, it made it easier to kiss, to fit against each other like they'd been there all along, like this was borne of nothing but earnest love and care for one another. (not that there wasn't love, no, no, they did love each other, but it wouldn't be honest to call it pure, would it?)
(was it okay to exist this way, to say without words 'we're both using each other, but we agreed to it, it's fine'? the fans gossiped, as they would about anything related to danganronpa. shuichi loved them both too, and so the daylight slipups went unacknowledged. he pretended not to hear the time maki accidentally called himiko 'kirumi.' he pretended not to hear when she pitched her voice a little lower and held her a little tighter than usual.)
sometimes there were happy coincidences, similarities that made things easier. they both stayed largely quiet once the lights were out, speaking in easy-to-mistake whispers. few words between kisses to lips, neck, shoulder. lipstick marks sometimes, smudged red (shinguuji, mostly) and black (toujou, mostly) and countless other shades, but those most often. how convenient that their aesthetics shared a color palette.
sometimes they shared secrets, or whispered instructions — there, more like that, softer, different wording. picking up new acting gigs once they were finally free of living their lives on tv. there was a difference though. they never agreed to shirogane's show, not that they could remember, anyway. danganronpa was a violation, a change of who they were, deep inside. this was a private exchange, a consenting give and take. hidden away under blankets and darkened lightbulbs, cuddling and listening to the cat purr.
sometimes it melted into the morning, carried with them into the morning light. himiko made breakfast, pancakes with smiley faces and clumsily chopped fruit salad. she made maki's coffee just the way she liked it and kissed her as she set it out on the table, as casual as if they'd done it every day of their lives. maki curled an arm around her waist, pulled her into her lap. she kissed himiko like a secret, that 'no one can see' urgency that made no sense here, and himiko responded like a habit, hand cupping her cheek to block her face from the dead.
they painted each other's nails and watched netflix on the couch as the snow fell. it would be wrong to say they were never just maki and himiko, to say they never stepped into the light. they just kept the shadows like a blanket, holding them closer near birthdays and anniversaries, special occasions like that.
they really loved each other, for who they were and who they weren't, and that was the bit people didn't seem to get. it was the reason shuichi was spared much of the tabloid coverage, since the authors were so focused on whatever latest manufactured harumeno scandal they could think of. it didn't matter. they ignored the press as much as they could.
they whispered 'i love you's between kisses and they were happy, the two of them and the cat and shuichi. the stars glittered overhead and they could only hope that the others were happy too, watching over them.