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“Thanks, Kimura-senpai, you’re such a babe!” Junko squealed, snagging the attention from Mukuro who was guarding the door to the chemisty lab. “No biggie, right? Just hand it over!”
Seiko clutched the vial. “W-what are you going to do with it? Spreading something like this could risk-“
“I suggest you, like, stop right there,” she interrupted with a plastic smile. “Remember what I said would happen if you asked questions?” Junko plucked the vial from Seiko’s gloved hands and strutted towards the door, slipping it into Mukuro’s pocket. She glanced back and continued in a nauseating sweetness, “just like, I dunno, chill out, ‘kay? Wouldn’t want one of my besties getting all uptight. Laters!”
Kokichi was bored. Class was boring. The room was boring. The only non-boring thing nearby was his boyfriend and his pretty face, which was sorely out of sight. At least the ‘emo hat’ was gone; Kokichi just had to make do with the back of his head.
For what felt like an eternity later, the bell rang, interrupting his brainstorm of what excuses he was going to give for his next DICE trip (which Shuichi really didn’t need to find out about.)
Like any other lunch period: Tenko pounced on Himiko, Himiko prayed to Atua that she would go away, Gonta rushed straight out the door to hunt bugs in the courtyard, a load of the girls buddied up to go to the toilet together, speculating who plastic wrapped all the doors in the Academy that morning. The main suspect was him, of course, bleh. Either way, it was the same show everyday, especially when Kaito dashed straight over to Shuichi like a magnet. Kaito’s face was easy to read, as usual, but unusually painted with concern today. It was impossible not to hear his booming voice bouncing off the walls. Kokichi listened in, doodling on his textbook.
“Hey, bro... are you good?” asked Kaito, tentatively.
Shuichi shut his textbooks, clumsily shoving them in his bag. “Ah, Momota-kun! Never better. Why do you ask?”
Kokichi smelt lies.
Kaito faltered, “w-well, there’s no better way to say this, but, uh...” He rubbed the back of his neck. “You... kinda look like shit.”
Kokichi couldn’t help but abandon his doodle to dramatically gasp and butt in, “Woah! That was sooo uncalled for!”
“Ah, really?” Shuichi stood, harshly scraping his chair along the floor and slinging his bag over his shoulder, looming into Kaito’s eyes. “Sorry, but I don’t trust your judgement that much.”
“H-huh!?” Kaito almost had to take a step backwards at Shuichi’s uncharacteristic shade.
Meanwhile, Kokichi held in a laugh, even if Shuichi was just lying. Silly Momota-chan, falling for that.
Shuichi wobbled towards the door, still faced away from Kokichi. “Are we going to the cafeteria? I’m starving.”
Kaito’s eyes only widened more. “Eh!? What about your-?”
“Social anxiety? Idiot, I got over that ages ago.”
“O-okay... I guess you... did?”
Lie, strike three. Kaito being humiliated was always hilarious, yes. But this was not like Shuichi.
“Stuuuupid, Momota-chan!” Kokichi jumped up from his desk, leaving his textbooks strewn everywhere, and wagged a finger to Kaito’s face. “My beloved is obviously lying.” He smirked. “The part about you being an idiot was true, though.”
“Hey! I’m not an idiot!”
Ignoring Kaito, Kokichi pranced behind Shuichi, who definitely would’ve fallen into a heap if shoved. “C’mon, Shumai! Le-!”
The words practically halted in Kokichi’s vocal cords when Shuichi creaked himself around to face him. His eyes, dark and closing themselves. Not to mention, the colour of his face was duller than dirty dishwater; both the boys were naturally quite pale, but this was something else.
Keeping up the shield on his emotions proved difficult for a moment as his tone turned suddenly serious. “Saihara, how hot are you?”
“Normal temperature, why do you ask?” he impassively mumbled.
“Mhm! Of course you are!” Kokichi sarcastically chirped, pressing his hand against his face.
“I hate it when you touch me.”
“Uhh, Ouma-kun? What’s up with him?” Kaito still occupied the clueless bimbo pose he adopted in the middle of the classroom.
“You think I know?” Kokichi half-jokingly dug, “aren’t you supposed to be ‘luminary of the century’ or whatever?” Shuichi leant on Kokichi’s shoulder, weighing him down suddenly. “Ugh, w-watch it, Shumai. Anyway, shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, trained to handle sudden situations like this?”
“I’m an astronaut, not a paramedic! And it’s Luminary of the Stars, to you!” he sulked, scooting through desks to support Shuichi’s other side. “What I meant was, why is he actin’ so weird? Jeez, I’d slug ya if my sidekick wasn’t in need!”
Kokichi pouted, as patronising as ever, and exclaimed with disingenuous pity, “oh no! Did I hurt poor little Momota-chan’s poor little feelings?” He rustled Shuichi’s mildly limp body. “Whaddya say, Saihara-chan?”
Barely strong enough to stand, he began, “I think...” His head dipped a little. “Momota-kun is being overly sensitive.”
“See?” Kokichi slathered a grin over his concern.
Kaito’s brow twitched deep into his face. “Y-you guys are-! Mean...”
Dismissing Kaito, Kokichi continued, “now, help me take him to the nurse’s office or something.”
The three limped out the door sideways and turned right when slurred words of protest fell from Shuichi’s mouth. “I’m not going to the nurses office, I’m not sick.”
The trio stopped. “Ugh, you really make my life difficult, Saihara-chan. Dorms, then. Heave, Momota-chan!”
“Fine, fine.” They span a clunky 180 degree turn and, after a stressful journey, finally draped Shuichi over his bed. The two soon harassed Kaito enough to leave.
Shuichi lay slumped, neck at an awkward angle against his headboard, fully clothed and bag still yanking on his shoulder.
Kokichi closed the thermometer. “Aw man, you’re all hot and sweaty and it wasn’t even my fault! How disappointing... welp,” he flicked the thermometer over the other side of the room, “at least you’re not dying!”
Shuichi shook off his bag. “I wish I was.”
Kokichi continued hiding his relief with a laugh. “Nishishi~! You’re even more emo than usual when you’re sick, but I know you don’t mean that.” He looked back over to Shuichi; his eyes were fluttering closed. Even with a face drained of color and hair like a bird’s nest, he was cute. He was so delirious, Kokichi saw no point in keeping up an act or hiding a blush. He let a soft smile caress his lips and said, “we need to get you comfy before you fall asleep, okay?”
He never thought his first time removing Shuichi’s clothes would be like this, but at least he got a trial run to practice controlling the unimaginable rush of blood crawling up to his cheeks. He fumbled around buttons, messily ‘folding up’ items of clothing and throwing them over the back of his desk chair.
Taking off his pants was the most difficult task, physically and mentally. It’s not like Kokichi sometimes stayed up all night wondering ‘what kind of underwear Saihara-chan likes to wear, because if he wanted to know, he would’ve just broken into his room. Which he might have done after their first week of dating. Fantasising what they were like on him was a different matter entirely, though, even if they were just black and boring. Again, he considered thanking Atua for Shuichi’s conciousness barely being present.
Not soon enough, Kokichi got through what felt like a full body workout of getting an uncooperative Shuichi tucked into bed with a cold washcloth, even pinning his hair off his forehead. Needless to say, Shuichi was asleep immediately.
Kokichi sank down to the floor beside Shuichi, leaning on a small space on the mattress. He wanted nothing more than to stay there with him all evening to make sure he was okay, but if one thing was clear, it was that Shuichi’s sudden illness wasn’t normal. The most obvious thing would be to consult the nurse but, to be honest, would she know that he couldn’t figure out himself?
He simply planted a gentle kiss on Shuichi’s cheek and got to work.
Shuichi was an orderly person, easily balancing school and detective work, even if he did rely on three coffees a day for it. Where would he keep track of people he’d been in contact with? A diary, journal, planner, a plain old list of clients?
Out of plain curiosity, he dug through a couple of Shuichi’s drawers, finding nothing but disorganised scrap paper and strange little gifts he must have received from friends, honestly disappointing Kokichi that he didn’t find a groundbreaking secret.
Next, he went to Shuichi’s school bag. From there, it was almost too easy.
Amongst a bulk of textbooks, Kokichi dug out a fancy leather-backed journal he’d definitely seen Shuichi use for his clients before. It was even conveniently bookmarked at his recent notes. Kokichi’s curiosity was dying to admire every inch of Shuichi’s messy scribbles, as well as the slightly tidier writeups next to them. He was dying to admire how, even through an incapacitating introverted nature and shyness, he was able to help people. He made a mental note to have another look later. For the time being, he flipped to the most recent page and came across the exact person he has suspected; a student he detected an unsettling ambience off since the day they met from the next class along, one who had been running around Hope’s Peak stealing his fun and shoving the blame onto him.
He checked the time on Shuichi’s alarm clock; 17:15. If he left shortly, she’d be there. Kokichi crouched back beside Shuichi, lightly shaking him. “Hey, Shumai, wakey wakey!” he cheerily whispered Shuichi out of sleep.
Heavy eyes drifted open. “Hm? Ugh... what are you doing here?” Shuichi groggily asked, animosity hidden within his voice, most unlike him.
Pretending to ignore it, Kokichi answered, “looking after you, silly!” He sprung back to his feet. “I just thought I’d mention that I’m heading out to grab some food from the cafeteria for my new tsundere boyfriend, which is you by the way, then I’m coming back for a sleepover! Aren’t you excited!?”
“No.”
“I know, right? So,” enthused Kokichi, bouncing towards the door, “will my beloved Shumai survive being left all alone for 20 minutes?”
Shuichi laid still. “...my headache is getting worse.”
Kokichi’s eyes widened and head tilted, despite the lack of audience. “Huuuuh? But I thought Saihara-chan said he wasn’t sick?” He rested a hand on the door handle. No answer. “Okay! Well, see ya.”
On arriving outside the main school building, he saw Junko through the cafeteria window, gossiping with a large group of classmates. She sat on the table with her obnoxiously large boots resting on a chair; clearly at the top of the food chain. What was the most annoying way to grab her attention?
He waltzed up to the window and whacked his hands against the glass, staring at Junko with stars in his eyes and yelled, “heeeeey, Enoshima-chaaaaan! Get your itty-bitty plastic titties out here! Like, now!”
Half of the cafeteria turned to stare at the muffled profanities being screeched into the window. Junko’s features twisted to disgust when Kokichi resorted to even pushing his face up the window. “Ugh, what does that creep want?” She jumped from the table and, before heading out, turned to her group and mentioned, “just so you girls know, I’m not, like, associated with him. Laters!”
Kokichi shifted out of view from the window, leaning up against the brick of the building. Moments later, an embittered Junko came complaining around the corner, “like, oh my God. Couldn’t you see I was, like, in the middle of conversation?”
Kokichi threw his hands behind his head. “Sure I could! But we’re such good friends, and I need a favour.”
Her arms glued to her chest in dissent. “I don’t do favours for dirty rats, so like, scurry back to the sewers, ‘kay? Thanks.”
As she swivelled around about to leave, Kokichi acted quickly, slinking back in view of the window. He teared up and took a deep breath, wailing, “WAAAAAAAH, ENOSHIMA-CHAN IS SoOOooo mEANNN!!”
As if on cue, she came right back, restraining herself from shutting him up with her own hands. “Hey! You’re so putting my rep on the line by doing that. People are staring, you know!”
Kokichi’s tears seemingly dried in a split second. Sticking on a smug smile, he exclaimed, “that was kinda the point! But you knew that. Now you’ll hear me out, right?”
A gloomy aura filled her presence and she mumbled, “I have already calculated 1,264 possibilities of how this conversation could go, but I guess I’m fine with it...”
Kokichi lowered his voice, sloppily ‘confiding’ in Junko, “okay, so basically, there’s this person who has been stepping allll over my turf lately with this pranking business going on. It’s really getting to me, ya know?”
“Oh my... I wonder who that could be,” she replied with heaps of disinterest.
“Wait, but that’s not all!” he gossiped. “Earlier, one of my beloved classmates came down with a suspicious illness!”
Junko yawned. “I see, that is totes suspicious...”
“But wait! That’s not all!” Kokichi blurted, then falling back to an artificial gossip, continuing, “to tell you the truth, I have a sneeeaky feeling that it all has something to do with a scummy blonde bitch with a ten foot pole up her ass.”
Junko dramatically scoffed, “are you referring to me? How rude! I, like, definitely have nothing to do with it.”
Kokichi settled his back on the wall again, slyly pressing, “come on now, you should know there’s no point in lying to little ol’ me. I bet you did something real dirty, like slip something in his coffee during your ‘consultation’ yesterday.”
Mushrooms almost sprouted from her disappointed face. “I see, you even know all of that? How predictable. How despair-inducing...” Her head sunk even lower. “It’s been so boring around this hope dumpster that even a few lighthearted pranks didn’t liven things up, so I had no choice but to result to more drastic entertainment...”
“Eh, I’m over it! But, if you’d tell me what exactly you did to my darling detective, I’d be most grateful.”
Junko’s face illuminated. With drool forming in her mouth, she announced, “oh, that neat little thing!? Why that’s just the Despair Disease taking its course!” Her excitement immediately wiped off upon noting Kokichi’s blank expression. “Okay, fine. It’s just a fever along with some other despair-filled symptoms. It’ll go away on its own, I guess... are we done? I’m so bored...”
He bounced off the wall again, eager to leave. “Yep, you’re even boring me, too! We are so in sync!” His face muted to neutral again. “One more question, and I’ll be straightforward this time. Is this thing contagious?”
“What, you think I know everything? Figure it out yourself, I’m leaving!” She spun into her heel and disappeared, relieving Kokichi of her nasty presence.
Some tension in his neck relaxed. Before entering the cafeteria himself, he muttered to himself, “Huh. I guess if it was, I’d have it already.”
The next day, mid-afternoon. The pair were lolled over the bed in underwear and Shuichi’s shirts, limbs entangled in a crumpled single duvet. Kokichi opened his eyes to a strip of light glaring through the curtain and groaned. Struggling to summon enough energy, he turned over and shuffled his way to make use of Shuichi’s arm as a pillow, massaging a hand over Shuichi’s chest.
With a sandpaper voice, he mumbled, “Saihara-chan? Moooorning.”
Shuichi’s face scrunched up, unconsciously inhaling and stretching. His sleepy eyes widened upon noticing fluffy purple hair on his shoulder. “Ouma-kun!? Good... morning?” Shuichi sat up on his elbows as much as Kokichi would let him and glanced over to his clock. “Damn, it’s already afternoon! Get up Ouma-kun, we’re late!”
“Heh, you’re probably just lying again, Shumai...” he mumbled, landing on a crooked pillow after Shuichi slipped out from under him, jumping out of bed.
“Ouma-kun, what reason would I have to lie?” he asked, confused, picking out his uniform from where it was hung over the chair. “Ah, my head hurts a bit. I probably got up too quickly...”
“Waaait, Saihara-chan!” A lifeless hand flopped in Shuichi’s direction. “Don’t you remember?”
Shuichi gathered Kokichi’s uniform, throwing it at him on the bed, something clicking in the process. Headache, loss of memory, half naked. In his bed with Kokichi.
Horror rose to his face. “Oh. Oh no, Ouma. Don’t tell me we were drinking or anything last night! W-wait, did you and me-!?”
Kokichi interrupted with a raspy, genuine laughter, “of course not, Saihara-chan.” He explained what happened the previous day in an extensive muddled intricacy, skimming across even the unnecessary details, such as how he went snooping through Shuichi’s belongings and confronted Junko. Somewhere through Kokichi’s aimless explanation, Shuichi had opened the curtains, literally shedding light onto Kokichi’s greenish-blue complexion, complimenting his purple hair.
Of course, Shuichi’s mind had been actively scanning through Kokichi’s driveling statement, trying to piece together only the useful parts, but this was a tad more important. If Shuichi was lying during his fever, and the next day Kokichi was only telling the truth... “A-ah, sorry to interrupt, but do you think you might have caught this illness, Ouma-kun?”
“No doubt. My head is killing,” he cried. And that instantly explained things. Kokichi awkwardly shifted his body up, eyes filled with innocence like a deer in headlights. “You’re not gonna leave me, right?” His eyelids battered as he swallowed, “I... don’t like being alone when I’m sick...”
Shuichi analysed Kokichi. Was this genuine? His face reddened up at the almost-intimate sight of seeing Kokichi’s raw, honest feelings. He never imagined Kokichi had anything like this in him. It was so human of him, Shuichi felt as if he fell in love all over again for a moment.
Shuichi laughed. “You really think I’d go ahead and leave you like this? Oh, but I really should find Momota-kun and apologise. Maybe I can just text him instead if you’d like me to stay.”
He sat down on the bed and took out his phone, scrolling through his contacts when he felt a soft, yet firm grip wrap around him, restricting his arm movements. “Saihara-chan... you’ll r-really stay with me?” Kokichi’s voice quavered and slowly turned into light sobs, “nobody’s ever stayed with me before, t-that...”
“Ouma-kun? Are you okay!?” Shuichi turned his head to see purple burried into his side. Shuichi wriggled his arms out, dropping his phone. Awkwardly, he stroked his fingers through Kokichi’s hair. “Try not to cry, you’ll get a stuffy nose.”
“But I’m s-so happy...” Kokichi feverishly whimpered, then announcing, muffled into Shuichi’s shirt, “I love Shumai more than anything in the entire universe!” He clung onto Shuichi’s torso as hard as his sick body would let him.
Unwillingly, Shuichi spat, “I despise you, Ouma-kun.” The words slipped out his mouth like a hot knife through butter before he’d even realised it. The room fell still. He brought his hand up to his lips. “What... did I just say?”
Kokichi brokenly sighed, pushing himself away from Shuichi. With messy tear-stained cheeks, he looked away from Shuichi and folded his arms. He sulked, “I can tell that was a big fat lie, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less...” More tears started welling up in his eyes.
Shuichi stumbled to take a hold of Kokichi’s hands, assuring, “Ah, I-! I really didn’t mean that, Ouma-kun! I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.” He tried to coax Kokichi into making eye contact. “Can I... please try that again?”
Kokichi replied with a reserved nod.
“Ouma-kun, I-I love you... so, so much.” He struggled maintaining eye contact with the rapid twinges of his heart beat. “I promise that’s not a lie.”
Next think he knew, Kokichi had flopped down back onto the bed, wiping his eyes on the duvet. He was smiling, a peaceful smile Shuichi had never seen before. “I’m still mad at you for lying to me so much, Saihara-chan,” he stated. “But I still forgive you because it wasn’t your fault.” He rolled onto his side, twiddling his hair.
“Is there... anything I can do to make it up to you?” Shuichi suggested with a giggle, stroking Kokichi’s waist.
“Like a makeout session? Or a dinner date. Or sex,” he stated nonchalantly.
“Ah, um-!” If Kokichi had said this when he wasn’t sick, Shuichi surely would’ve taken it as a joke, it was so candid. “Well, I can get Momota-kun to bring us food later. That... counts as a dinner date, right?”
A feeble happiness came from Kokichi. “That sounds nice, Shumai!”
Shuichi gazed down at Kokichi, lips curled upwards. “Alright then, it’s a date.”