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He could no longer sleep peacefully. Water boiling over and consuming him was all he could see in his dreams anymore. He would only see the fact that they used him.
They used his trauma. Made him romanticize it. They made him love it.
Korekiyo still couldn’t get that out of his head. It had been years, and those thoughts still yelled at him; screamed at him. He wanted his sister dead, he didn’t want to remember what she’d done to him. Whether it was fed to him by team danganronpa, or what she had actually done. He didn't want to cherish it, he didn't want to miss her.
Korekiyo felt like all he could do was curl his legs into his body and let small sobs rack his body as he tried to not let his lover see or hear him. He had gone through so much worse, he had survived a whole season of that god awful show; Kiyo hadn’t even made it to the last trial.
He tried to fit his long legs farther into his chest, compacting himself to a small corner of the bed while Rantarou was peaceful on the other side of the bed. Why? Why was this so hard? He can hardly take showers anymore. The reminder of being boiled alive always felt fresh on his skin and mind when he did. He could hardly wash the hair he was once so proud of. He wondered how Rantarou could even find him as pretty as he once did.
Korekiyo tried to fight the noise rising in his throat. His bare legs pushing back farther into his chest; her voice breathing into his ear, and piercing his mind. ‘Pathetic.’ was all he could hear. Her clinical words quickly breaking down the walls he built for himself, and inching its way into his head. ‘Pathetic. Pathetic pathetic pathetic. If you listened to your dear sister this wouldn’t have happened. Pathetic. I loved you didn't I? And what did you do? Left me for that stupid game.'
Korekiyo didn’t realize he was telling her to shut up until his chin hit his knee. He didn’t realize he spent another night crying until he felt the familiar salty water on his lips.
He didn't realize he was screaming for mercy until he felt a gentle hand in the middle of his back.
“I’m sorry Sister,” Korekiyo babbled, his mind not connecting the fact the hand had rings on the fingers, and that the hand belonged to someone else; someone he loved. That Sister could no longer hit him, “Just SHUT UP!” Korekyio’s mind was too foggy to hear the words that were being said to him. Mind too foggy to perfect his natural speech.
Korekiyo felt himself be shifted slowly to the other side of his body. Or maybe he was losing consciousness, beginning to drift into the depths of his mind. On nights like these that would be a blessing.
Through his blurry mind, and watery eyes he can see the hint of the green mess he loves so much. Connected to the one person that treated him normally after the game. Korekiyo went to reach up to him, but ended up only focusing on the scars littering his arms. Why didn’t he have his wraps? Where were his bandages? Why was he in front of such a beautiful human without his bandages? What would Rantarou think of the mess he is?
Korekiyo should be better than this. He's always been better than this. He's been raised to be better than this.
“Hey, hey, hey,” He heard Rantarou’s muffled voice. “I’m right here Kiyo.” Korekiyo found it hard to believe that. How would he be here if he sounded so far away? How would Rantarou be here if he was this much of a mess?
“I’m right here my love.”
The pet name. The pet name just made Korekiyo sob harder, curl into himself more. He didn’t deserve it. He’s not as beautiful as the rest of humanity. He's not as beautiful as the one before him. He's been tainted, he's not as pure as the rest of everyone else. Not as pure as Rantarou.
Korekiyo can see the others' mouths moving. The burning feeling of Rantarou’s ring decorated hand burning through the thin shirt he was wearing. The sleeves, why did this have short sleeves? Rantarou could see his imperfections now. Korekiyo didn't want that. He had to be perfect for Rantarou since he was perfect for Kiyo.
Korekiyo wanted to let go of his legs, he really did, but it felt so comfortable now. Like it was protecting him from his mind. Sister was now gone from his thoughts. Now it was only his mind yelling at him. Yelling at him because of Rantarou. Yelling at him of the fact he even entered the deadly game, and what it did to him.
But now Korekiyo could finally hear the sweet nothings being whispered from the green-eyed beauty he managed to snag for himself. Korekiyo tried again to move his arm. Gradually cupping Rantarou’s face. He could feel the adventurer smile under his hand. Smiling for what, Korekiyo did not know. He was a mess, it was no time to smile. At least for him.
Rantarou leaned down a little, knowing when to stop so it doesn't overwhelm Korekiyo, “Kiyo, can you hear me?”
Korekiyo nodded softly. He wished he could always hear Rantarou. Rantarou's voice was soft and calming. Not harsh and harmful like others when they saw him.
“Can you get up Kiyo?” Rantarou asked another question.
Korekiyo didn’t know if he could move anymore other than the hand that was still on Rantarou’s face, but he hoped it still helped, so he lightly tapped his finger against the other’s cheek. Rantarou nodded and laid back down, this time facing Kiyo.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Rantarou asked, but unlike the other questions Kiyo didn't have to think about it, he quickly shook his head no. Knowing he would go back into the state he was earlier if he did tell his darling what he imagined, and what he envisioned.
“Last question okay?” Rantarou paused until he saw Korekiyo nod, “Do you wanna come here?” Rantarou opened his arms a little, and Korekiyo slowly moved until he was settled in Rantarou’s arms. The shirt he was wearing tugged up from the movement but at this point, he didn’t care. Korekiyo just wanted to feel safe. And in his head, the safest place he could be was right where he was. In Rantarou’s arms, away from his past, and away from the games.
When Korekiyo finally closed his gold-colored eyes fell asleep. It was one of his rare dreamless nights of sleep. And he was safe; right in Rantarou’s arms.