Chapter Text
If Kokichi could choose between sleeping eternally and not sleeping at all, he would rather become sleep-deprived.
He hates boredom. And one of the worst things for a person who hates boredom is to see the same dream every night. Dark-blue hair, always smooth and neatly brushed. Hazel eyes surrounded by long thick eyelashes, resembling rays of sunshine on childish drawings. A pale face, usually wearing a tired expression. Big hands with cold, long fingers that shook lightly from time to time. A slim and tall body that carried a disgustingly bitter smell of coffee, and a black jacket that smelled like books.
For so many years, each and every night, Ouma has been meeting the same person in his sleep.
***
The first time he saw him seemed like an eternity ago. In that dream, Kokichi found himself on a hill in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by grass that seemed a little too green and a tree that was a little too big to be realistic. He was 11 then, and the first thing his 11-year-old brain noticed was a pretty wooden swing hanging from one of the tree branches. Having nothing else to do, Ouma walked up to the tree, ready to jump on the swing and have fun, but a cold hand softly landed on his shoulder and made him stop.
“Don’t,” a shy voice mumbled against his back. “It’s broken. You’ll fall.”
He wasn’t exactly pleased by that turn of events. Ouma Kokichi, being stopped from doing what he wanted? Whoever that was, they got a lot of nerve to try and control him like that.
“How would you know?” he hissed and turned around, and that was when he first saw him.
A pretty boy wearing an ugly cap stood in front of him, his curious gaze glued to the ground and his slim body stiff from tension. The fake sunlight danced on his faintly blushing cheeks and sprinkled them with glitter so gently that Kokichi found himself staring at the boy’s skin. For a few minutes, both of them kept quiet – the stranger was studying the grass, Ouma was studying the stranger.
Finally, the latter’s patience ran thin. He got closer to the brunette and poked him in the chest, earning a questioning look.
“Are you an angel or something?”
“I– What?”
The boy winced, his cap almost falling off from the sudden motion.
“I’m not an angel.” He made such an adorably stupid face that Kokichi barely held a giggle. “I’m Saihara Shuichi.”
Saihara Shuichi. That name bounced in his head like a toy ball. It didn’t sound familiar, like a name of a fictional character or anyone Ouma knew. Seemed strange, but the boy didn’t let it bother him since he knew how wild his imagination could get. Besides, Saihara Shuichi’s innocent attitude was less boring than some swing on a pathetic tree, so Kokichi decided to mess with him a little more. Like a tiger in a circus ring, he started circling around the other boy and examining him with a look worthy of a serious scientist.
“Isn’t that what angels are called, usually?” he hummed. “I’ve always been told angels had your name.”
“You have? By who?” visibly confused, Saihara Shuichi tried to keep up with him, but to no avail. “I-I don’t really know what you’re talking about.”
“My, my! I’ve heard all angels are a little modest and would never admit who they are, but I didn’t expect them to be so bad at lying!”
Kokichi loved to be overwhelming and confusing, so he didn’t hold back. Before the poor boy could react, he snatched his cap and sprinted towards the swing. For a few moments, he could’ve sworn he felt a light breeze play in his hair as he was running.
“Hey, I’m not lying!” Saihara Shuichi’s voice got louder and less shy but still lacked enough confidence to stop his mischievous acquaintance. “Give it back! It’s mine!”
It’s my dream, Kokichi thought, smirking to himself, so nothing belongs to some strangers here. As soon as his knees hit the wooden plank, the boy jumped, landing right on it like a poorly made paper plane.
“You’re wrong, Saihara Shuichi! This world is mine! I am the–”
Sadly, his triumphal remark was cut off as the swing creaked under his light body and his ass hit the ground. The fall was painful, the ground was cold, the oversaturated grass was tickling his arms. Everything was sensible, vivid, and suspiciously realistic. A surprised gasp slipped from Ouma’s lips, while in the distance, getting closer and closer, Saihara’s disappointed sigh shook the still colorful air.
“See? I told you it would break, s-silly,” he grumbled. Soon enough his tall silhouette appeared in front of confused Kokichi; the look in his eyes was much warmer than the condescending tone of his voice. “Are you hurt? Let me help you.”
Ouma would’ve come up with a witty comeback to make sure he’d never be called “silly” again, but the sight in front of him made his mind go blank. It looked like a picture from some sappy romance visual novel. Saihara stood there with his hand outstretched towards the fallen boy, his head covered the sun like a solar eclipse, and his hair was flapping in the breeze with cinematically slow speed. It was only then when Kokichi noticed,
“You look much better without your stupid hat.”
The boy winced yet again.
“Do I?”
He did. And that wasn’t the only fascinating thing Kokichi noticed about him. He also spotted the faint blush on his cheeks getting brighter and how his phenomenally long eyelashes fluttered lightly, catching the bits of sunlight in-between. These details clicked in his racing heart and made it throb and tingle in a weirdly excited manner – a feeling that he had never experienced before. He rushed to get up before anything unexpected popped up in his already busy head.
Maybe Saihara was an angel, after all.
“You don’t. You look ugly.” Kokichi shoved the hat into his arms. “Put this back on before I cry blood!”
“You’re rude,” the other boy muttered, following the order.
“I know! That’s what I’m told all the time!”
Saihara didn’t answer immediately, the shade from his cap making his face look less adorable than before.
“And… maybe I’m told I’m ugly all the time,” he forced out, tensing up. “I don’t know about you, but it hurts my feelings sometimes.”
These words went straight to Kokichi’s chest and echoed there, revealing the cold emptiness he felt inside. He stopped, dropping the smug expression, and blinked a few times in pure confusion. This boy? Ugly? He was definitely a subject of Ouma’s imagination, then. There was absolutely no way anyone could call Shuichi ugly in the real world.
Unsure of what to say, the shorter boy pouted and rolled his eyes. No matter what, he needed to keep his cool attitude to assert dominance. “Well, I lied. Duh! I wouldn’t say you’re the prettiest boy I’ve ever met, but I called you an angel for a reason.”
Their conversation felt like a game of catch: throwing words back-and-forth, causing strong and curious reactions every time. It wasn’t as boring as Kokichi’s pointless talks with his dumb classmates.
“T-thank you,” Saihara’s nervous chuckle made him flinch. The sound of his voice was so calming that Kokichi imagined how good it would’ve felt to listen to him read something out loud. “But, uh, I don’t even know what to call you. You haven’t told me your name yet.”
Telling his name to a random boy from a dream? Ouma didn’t feel like doing such reckless things. He would rather make a menacing first impression than friends.
“I don’t think you want to know something like that, Saihara-chan.” He stretched his lips in a Cheshire cat smile and pressed a finger against them.
In the corner of his eye, he noticed how the bright sky and colorful grass slowly started fading away. The dream was probably coming to an end, so he had very little time to disappear dramatically from Saihara’s sight before they would never meet again. At moments like this, lots of fun ideas and evil quotes from his favorite manga would usually pop up in his head, but nothing seemed to work in his favor in that dream.
Meanwhile, Saihara noticed the changes, too.
“Why not?” he looked around with a panicked gasp. “And why is the world–”
Without thinking, he grabbed Kokichi by his hand with the desperation of a drowning person. As soon as he did that, Ouma’s body jerked lazily, regaining consciousness, and he accidentally blinked the other boy away. The world disappeared in a flash; he was back in his boring room, the grey ceiling instead of the blue sky and the dusty floor instead of green grass.
Saihara didn’t even finish the sentence. How unfortunate and lame.
Kokichi felt so lightheaded and weak as if his body lingered in that dream world. That feeling never disappeared. For the whole day, he couldn’t stop thinking about the weird boy, his face printed in his memory a little too well for something he’d forget in a couple of days. Such interesting personas had rarely visited his childish dreams, so it was a shame he couldn’t mess around with that guy anymore.
…Or so he thought, until, next time he fell asleep, the first thing he was greeted with was the same exact face, every feature unchanged, and the familiar hand outstretched to him again.
“O-oh.”
They were in a classroom this time, gentle sunlight pouring on empty desks and closed books, the same breeze playing with the cheap curtains through an opened window. The infamous ugly hat was covering Shuichi’s confused face before his amber eyes lit up under it. Kokichi blinked a few times, trying to process what was happening, but no reasonable answer came to his panicking mind.
“So, um,” even the calming voice sounded similar to the one he’d heard in the first dream. “You didn’t tell me your name last time.”
Ouma’s surprised stare dropped to the other boy’s spread palm that was still persistently demanding a handshake. “Well, looks like we’re stuck together,” he mumbled pensively. “If that’s the case, then…”
Their hands locked together in a firm grip. Shuichi’s fingers were cold but smooth, shyly brushing against Kokichi’s skin all covered in goosebumps. Each feeling was just as clear and vivid as if they were meeting in real life, but that didn’t make any sense. Despite the anxious thoughts filling his sleeping head, the shorter boy managed to put on his usual wide smile and straighten his back.
“I’m Ouma Kokichi! The very subject of your fantasies, aren’t I?”
Shuichi blushed again. “Nice to meet you then, Ouma-kun.”
That’s how it all began.
Kokichi hasn’t been able to dream of anyone else since.
***
If he could choose between sleeping eternally and not sleeping at all, he would rather become sleep deprived. But that might be a lie.
Growing up with a guy in your dreams is like having a real childhood friend. Even when you argue or threaten each other to leave, you’re still put back together as though by stubborn parents or teachers – well, in this case, it feels more like something as pathetic and unrealistic as fate. Kokichi wants to whine and complain about it, but at the same time, there hasn’t been a single day he wouldn’t wish to fall asleep as soon as possible.
They could meet anywhere, whether it was a futuristic city with flying cars, a pirate ship, a made-up country full of magical animals, or another planet with hostile aliens trying to murder them. It’s like watching a series that changes drastically with every episode to keep things entertaining. Kokichi can never predict where he and Saihara would end up, and it makes his life unbelievably thrilling. It also provides good company; as much as he hates to admit it, Shuichi isn’t that bad of a partner for every adventure they’re forced into.
They could become friends if he were real. Maybe. Hypothetically speaking. Though Kokichi believes they both would be acting much more boring in real life, without all these exciting scenarios and alternative universes. This world could never top anything they have to go through on a nightly basis.
Today, for example, they were lost in a haunted forest full of weird, scary creatures. The dead trees were falling with awfully loud cracking sounds, the skies were dark and the wind was strong, pairs of eyes, glowing bloody red, were watching them from every pitch-black corner… Ouma doesn’t consider himself a coward, but if he had to tell the truth (which, to be fair, rarely happens), he’d say he was pretty goddamn scared. The ominous atmosphere filled his body with dread and made it shiver; he kept instinctively hiding behind Shuichi’s tall figure or pressing against him, cracking jokes and trying to cover up with the most awkward, ridiculous lies he could ever come up with.
And Shuichi didn’t seem to mind.
He also acted scared and cautious, wincing, jolting, and yelping at every little sound, but never hesitated to tug his protégé closer or help him hide. Each time his shaking cold hands cautiously wrapped around Kokichi’s scrawny figure, the shorter boy felt weird lightness in his lungs that surprisingly calmed him down a bit.
At some point, a crazy beast jumped at them out of nowhere, and they had to fight – both with their anxiety and the roaring monster. Its enormous claws and scary teeth were blinding in the pitch-black world; it looked like it could kill with one fast movement of its paw.
Kokichi wasn’t afraid of dying. It was his dream, after all. Any injury he’d get would disappear as soon as his eyes would open. However, a different fear struck his head like a fallen tree.
Shuichi could die. Others always die in dreams.
Surprisingly, that was all it took for him to get riled up. He swallowed the overwhelming fear and chose to fight. Having pushed his sidekick aside, he launched at the beast with a desperate scream. The little warrior mimicked sounds the beast was making, never held back with clumsy attacks and curse words, moving as fast and sly as he could to take it by surprise. The world lit up red from all the fury he was feeling, shapes of trees and bushes mixing into one big mass that felt as tight and narrow as a closet or a cupboard drawer. When the giant claw scratched Kokichi’s arm, a flash of pain paralyzed his body and blurred his vision. He could feel a warm streak of blood pouring down his shirt. A panicked scream escaped his widely opened mouth without him noticing.
“Ouma-kun!”
Fainting in a dream would’ve been a peculiar experience, but before he could fall limp on the ground, familiar cold hands dragged him away from the battlefield – right into the pitch-black nothingness that was supposed to be the end of the setting.
“Ouma-kun, can you hear me?! Are you okay?”
The same hands wrapped around Kokichi’s waist, and soon enough, he ended up nuzzling into Shuichi’s pounding chest. He could feel the other’s racing heartbeat pumping through the layers of clothes, and it felt so real and warm as if they weren’t in a dream at all.
“Why did you act so careless?” a worried whisper burned his ear. “You could’ve died.”
“I can’t die,” Ouma refuted weakly. “I’m immortal here.”
“Let’s not check if it’s true or not. I’m gonna take care of your arm now, okay?”
Once Kokichi backed away, he finally saw Saihara’s face. Two golden eyes were shining like two suns lost in a black hole, so frightened and worried and caring. Slightly parted lips were stained with ruby teeth marks he left just now in a panic. The half-relieved, half-anxious expression was decorating his blushing, sweaty face. Messy hair was sticking to his wet forehead.
This boy was unrealistically pretty. Definitely a subject of Ouma’s dreams.
And he got even prettier when he tore off a part of his sleeve, making a classy white shirt look like a cheap dirty cloth now, and rolled up the other. There was something heart-stopping about him not being as neat and pedantic about his looks as usual. Kokichi was too stunned to process what he was doing; before he knew it, the other boy carefully grabbed his injured arm with a quiet sigh and started bandaging the wound.
“You shouldn’t be so reckless, Ouma-kun,” he mumbled gently. “Even if you’re sure you won’t… die, you can still get hurt. See?”
Consciousness slowly began to sink back into Kokichi’s weakened body. He blinked away the wooziness and followed Shuichi’s concentrated gaze, watching him tend to his wound with confident, fast movements.
“I got so riled up, I couldn’t stop myself!” he whined, trying to sound carefree. “I just loooove battles, you know? I always enjoy them in video games and stuff!”
Their eyes met. Shuichi gave him a look worthy of a condescending parent, then let out a relieved chuckle. “This isn’t a video game, though.”
“Well, considering we’re sitting somewhere at the end of the map, it sure feels like one!”
“True. I figured we could technically go anywhere, unlike those creatures, so…”
Kokichi couldn’t tell if it was dreaminess or the aftermath of his fierce battle, but Shuichi’s eyes were too easy to drown in and his voice sounded more calming than a lullaby. He was losing consciousness again, getting lost in the other’s presence, absorbed and fascinated by it. For some reason, Saihara also wouldn’t move, so they ended up staring at each other awkwardly, surrounded by deadly silence and the same gloomy darkness.
“Please never do this again. I, uh– I’m afraid of losing you here, Ouma-kun,” Shuichi whispered, his shaky breath tickling Kokichi’s nose. The shorter boy felt shivers run down his suddenly stiff back.
“I was protecting you, idiot.” Oops. “That’s a lie, though.”
Saihara chortled, a small and tender smile now playing on his lips.
“Of course. A liar till the end.”
The injury was treated. The beast was gone. The bleeding had stopped. Yet, they kept staring into each other’s eyes, still ridiculously close, and Shuichi’s hands were still gripping Kokichi’s arm.
They didn’t let go or move away until the dream ended.
And even now, sitting in this boring class, Kokichi can still feel Shuichi’s cold fingers gently brushing against his forearm.
It makes him all dreamy and absent-minded. However, as much as he hates the state he’s in, he can’t stop suppressing the smile that persistently tries to stretch his lips. It feels oddly familiar to the one he saw on Shuichi’s face before he disappeared, as if an exact replica of it.
“Why did you act so careless? You could’ve died.”
“Even if you’re sure you won’t… die, you can still get hurt. See?”
“I’m afraid of losing you here, Ouma-kun.”
Has it always been so hot in the classroom? Kokichi’s head spins, but before he can do anything about it, he receives a quick hit right on it with a crumbled notebook.
“Oi, twink!” a familiar irritating voice breaks through the memories of Shuichi’s tender one. “Wanna hang out with me and Idabashi The Teacher’s Pet tonight? There’s a new movie coming out, and the lead actor is so hot!”
Iruma Miu, a rather vulgar girl who (unfortunately) ended up being Ouma’s classmate and friend, appears near his desk. As her strong perfume fills the air, Kokichi’s dreaminess immediately changes into fury. She fills the whole space with her loud, even screaming presence, leaving no place for anyone or anything else. Kokichi sighs loudly, giving his friend an icy glare, and snatches the notebook out of her manicured hand with a forced sneer.
“What a coinkydink! I’m spending the night with that lead actor today! Can’t go.”
Iruma snorts. “You look like a fifth grader that ate glue, you’ll never get laid.”
“You’re the one to talk, dumb piglet!”
Another disappointed sigh escapes Kokichi’s lips, and he turns away. If only he could blink the real world away, just like he always does with the one where Shuichi is…
He glances at the window above his desk. The weather outside is as boring as ever and the air smelled like rain when he was walking here. People go in and out, wearing the same-looking monotonous uniforms and tedious faces. Their tired eyes have lost colors and can never be as radiant and appealing as the ones Kokichi stares into every night. Their smiles feel fake and strained, even the widest ones, and their laughs sound forced. People are nothing but empty shells, moving around with no passion or purpose in this uneventful world.
What’s the fun in being a part of it?
“Hellooo?” Miu bends over, empathically puffing out her still-growing chest. “Come on Ouma, you’re the only one who can trick upperclassmen to buy us tickets!”
Oh, he would gladly do that any other time. He gets all kinds of perks and pocket money for his perfect manipulation skills. However, today his head has been too preoccupied with the recent dream to think of tricks.
“I’m not your trick machine for seeing adult movies, piss off!” he shoves his classmate away, not even trying to hide his anger. The girl whistles.
“Gremlin’s moody today!” a doubtful giggle tickles her messy fair hair. “Did something happen?”
“Iruma-chan appeared nearby. Wanna make me happier and leave?”
Iruma lets out a disappointed sigh and leaves, twirling the air with her mini skirt. It almost feels like the light breeze from the dreams, the one that always appears once Shuichi is around.
If only he could be around here, too.
Kokichi shrugs off his gloominess and tries to muffle these thoughts. He’s only a few hours away from another dream.
***
If he could choose between sleeping eternally and not sleeping at all, he would rather pick a fixed and healthy sleep routine.
Even his aloof father has pointed out that he looked healthier and slept more than before, wondering what drove his son to have such a consistent timetable out of the blue. Like a perfect, well-behaved child, Kokichi goes to sleep at 9 or 10 pm without anyone forcing him to. He rushes to finish everything before it’s too late in the evening and spends most of his time in his room, quiet. As much as he hates being perceived as an obedient goodie-goodie, he doesn’t mind being seen as one if it means no one will get in his way to meet Shuichi. Just another easy-peasy lie to keep up with.
It’s been almost five years. He’s pretty much used to living like this for now.
Every day, as soon as it gets dark, he jumps in his bed, dives under the covers, and waits excitedly until his eyes close and his mind carries him somewhere far, far away, to the world where Shuichi lives. They always end up in fascinating adventures that go beyond even Kokichi’s wild imagination, so he never gets bored. Dreams became his only joy in this dull ordinary life.
He doesn’t know much about Shuichi. They’re always busy figuring out another fictional world, its rules, enemies and allies. He’s only aware that Shuichi’s Uncle works in a detective agency and he sometimes keeps his nephew busy with small cases. He also figured out a few hobbies of his – boring, ordinary, like reading novels or playing chess – and his favorite color, blue. Which is also so obvious that it’s boring. Kokichi has no idea why he feels so drawn to him, but the more nights they spend together, the safer and lighter he feels around this shy boy with his stupid, ugly hat that he never takes off.
Maybe there’s something about the way he looks at Kokichi with those pretty amber eyes of his. Maybe there’s something about his voice, changing slightly with each emotion, but always soothing, calming, soft. Maybe it’s all because of his stupid random thoughts and ideas that never fail to save them from difficult situations. Maybe it’s just his ramblings about another dumb case he took or a novel he read. Or all of these combined.
Kokichi, however, is convinced that he’s simply impressed by how far his imagination went, having created such a complex, realistic character and keeping him in his dreams for so long. Sometimes silly guesses cross his mind – what if Shuichi is a real person, and they share dreams every night? – but he thinks it’s nothing but a stretch since it sounds too bizarre. Either way, he’s just happy to indulge in all of these crazy fantasies and spend his nights in the most interesting ways.
Today isn’t any exception. He waits until nighttime, gets in bed, falls asleep…
And wakes up covered in a cold sweat, panic shaking his still sleeping body.
Shuichi wasn’t there.
The dream was empty. Kokichi was taken to a random street full of grey silhouettes but there was no sight of his companion. He tried to find him, looking everywhere he could, entering deserted shops and cafés and taking countless turns in all directions.
Shuichi wasn’t there. Shuichi wasn’t there. Shuichi wasn’t there.
It was the first time in a while he felt genuinely terrified. His whole body kept shaking while he wobbled around the same-looking buildings and shouted Shuichi’s name until his throat started to hurt. Tears were burning his cheeks and streaming down his chin, so tangible and real – and so was the emptiness he felt, both in that lifeless place and in his shattering chest.
“Saihara-chan! Are we playing hide-and-seek?” he was desperately trying to sound like his usual self, but his faltering voice didn’t help in the slightest. “This isn’t fun for me at all, just so you know!”
No response came. Only the echo of his own screams lingered in the heavy air, so cold and humid that it smelt like death.
“I didn’t agree to play this! How can a game that you’re forced to play… be fun?!”
Kokichi felt like he was suffocating, each breath he took filling him with more anxiety. Everything he sensed was prickly and poignant, hurt him in every part of his weak body. He got lost in that vast but monotonous universe of loneliness and despair, and there was no one to save him anymore.
Shuichi wasn’t there. Shuichi wasn’t there. Shuichi wasn’t there.
“Saihara-chan… where did you go?”
Kokichi fell on the ground without even noticing. Tears blurred his vision, ready to flood the entire street. He clenched his shirt as if trying to reach to his racing heart and tear it out of his chest, impulsively pulling and stretching the thin fabric until it ripped. Anxiety was flowing through his veins instead of blood and spinning his head to the point that everything around him became an illegible dark mess.
Kokichi was alone. Shuichi disappeared. After all those years, he suddenly stopped visiting him.
His only joy and amusement in life has perished overnight.
He wakes up because his father shakes him out of it. This is the first time Kokichi sees him with a worried expression on his always tired, indifferent face.
“Kokichi, you’ve been screaming and crying all night.”
“Ah…”
The boy blinks, secretly wishing he could travel back to the universe where Shuichi still existed, and his heart stops as soon as he realizes he might’ve lost his dream companion forever.
He’s lost for the rest of the day. Whether it’s breakfast, or a morning walk to school, or a class, or a chat with friends – Kokichi can’t find peace of mind. It feels as though he doesn’t exist there at all. His memories keep painting tender, pretty portraits of Shuichi – those beautiful eyes, soft hair, a shy smile – and all of them hurt. They hurt so much. Ouma is constantly on the verge of tears or a mental breakdown, completely absent-minded, too busy trying to replicate the world of dreams and summon the blue-haired boy while his whole body aches, too heavy to move around.
Time flies by like a tape on rewind. Before he knows it, Kokichi finds himself resting in Iruma’s gross filthy arms with Idabashi gently patting him on the shoulder.
“What the hell, Ouma?” Miu’s worried voice breaks through a humming wall in his spinning head, and he jolts. “Are you sick or something?”
“I don’t think his forehead is hot,” Kiibo states. “Isn’t he just tired?”
Oh no. Kokichi blinks a few times, feeling like he just woke up from another dream.
They’re sitting on a school rooftop, wide pale skies surrounding them from above. By the looks of it, the lessons are already over: their schoolbags are scattered on the ground with homework handouts peeking from them, and the barely visible, the cream-colored sun has moved to the west, its gentle lazy rays getting pinker. Ouma’s shivering body is covered by Kiibo’s black jacket (as if his own uniform wasn’t warm enough, jeez). Miu’s perfume has filled his burning nostrils.
Are these idiots taking care of him now? Does that mean they’ve noticed how bad he feels? Another icy wave of panic freezes the blood in his veins, and his body tenses up as he reluctantly gets out of his friend’s warm embrace, earning a confused gasp.
“Ouma?”
Exaggerating everything is his only way out. He can’t let them know he’s going through something as pathetic as a loss of a non-existent boy.
“Waaaaah! I’m so depressed and disappointed!” he drops on the ground dramatically and starts rolling back-and-forth like a cranky child. “My stupid father deleted all games from my Nintendo! I haven’t been able to eat and sleep afterward! Will you buy me new games?”
He watches with relief how the worried gazes of his friends slowly turn into annoyed ones.
“Wait, what?” Idabashi frowns suspiciously. “Don’t tell me you used your crocodile tears to make us buy you new games.”
“Didn’t you snatch that Nintendo from someone? What’s stopping you from stealing the games as well, you little twink?” Iruma’s eyes stare at Kokichi with confusion like two round icebergs. She’s still unsure of what to believe, which is dangerous. There should be no room for doubt.
Lying feels so tiring all of a sudden. With a heavy heart, Ouma squeezes out another loud scream. “I don’t wanna be a bad guy anymooooore! I wanna have my own stuff!”
“You don’t make any sense, Ouma-kun!” Kiibo’s panicked voice echoes through the wide roof space. “This is just… ridiculous! What’s going on?”
Miu snorts angrily and stomps her feet on the ground, leaving the bench. “Ugh, nothing! Don’t waste your time on this. We got tricked by his flat ass again!” she shouts, visibly disappointed, and shoots Kokichi a murderous look. “I can’t believe he managed to do something so dumb!”
“You shouldn’t have done this, we were so worried!” Kiibo follows her to the exit. “What if something happens next time and we won’t believe you anymore?”
Kokichi catches himself thinking that he’s already missing the warmth of Miu’s embrace and Idabashi’s jacket. An icy feeling of loneliness scratches his chest.
“Your loss!” he laughs hoarsely, and that’s all he can do.
The door closes, leaving him alone on the cold rooftop. It’s just like that street from the latest dream all over again. The boy groans, then rolls on his back to face the boring sky. His tired eyes desperately scan the clouds in a silly hope to find a familiar shape, and for a moment he can swear he saw an outline of Shuichi’s cap.
“Saihara-chan,” he whispers, so quiet that the sounds barely escape his lips. “Why did you leave? I don’t wanna be alone again.”
The wind blows the clouds further away.
***
Kokichi would love to stay awake, but because of his fixed sleep schedule that he kept up for years, his eyelids drop heavy and he gets thrown into a dark, bottomless space where his body feels light and his daytime thoughts drift away.
When he opens his eyes again, he sees… a bookcase. An old wooden bookcase with lots of boring books put neatly on its shabby shelves. He looks around, both confused and tired; it seems that he was teleported to a library of some sort because identical bookcases surround him, their old dusty smell burning his nostrils. The tall ceiling goes so high up that it feels like the shelves never end, trying to reach it. As Kokichi takes a cautious step forward, the echo of it flies around the room in loud, heavy layers.
An enormous library, huh. What a boring place to be alone at.
Ouma sighs, purposefully loud so that his voice fills all the space, and walks towards the nearest corner. He wonders if there’s any exit he could take to leave the dream faster. Each movement turns into a mirror-like sound reflection in the deadly silence. Step. Step. Sigh. Another step.
The more he walks, the more he realizes that the library strongly resembles a labyrinth. The bookcases turn into walls, forming narrow, complicated paths, so despite the tall walls, the space gets tighter and uncomfortable each minute. What a joke. Kokichi wishes he didn’t dream at all today. His sighs turn into worried panting, his steps become faster, his head starts spinning from seeing the same picture over and over no matter how many turns he takes. Panic slowly builds up in his chest. Sounds and echoes mix up in a weird, complicated noise that pisses him off. The boy starts feeling like he’s being followed, and there’s nowhere to run, and he can’t find an exit, and it’s so dusty that the air is nearly impossible to breathe, and he’s dizzy, and–
Cold hands grab him by his shoulders. Kokichi yelps and defensively swings his arm to hit whatever is behind him, only to slap soft skin and feel a surprised gasp burn his palm.
“Ow! It hurts!”
The familiar voice echoes loudly among the bookcases. The familiar amber eyes stare at scared Ouma with confusion. The familiar cap throws a faint shadow on the familiar face.
Familiar…
“Saihara-chan.”
The feeling of relief is unbelievably strong. It goes through Kokichi’s weakened body like a giant tsunami and washes off all fears, worries, and sorrows. His legs almost give in from the euphoric feeling that sends shivers down his spine as he stares at the lost boy, back in his dreams, and compares the concerned gaze with the one painted tenderly in his memory. For a moment, he gets scared that it’s just his mind playing tricks on him – what if, as soon as he moves, Shuichi will disappear without a trace again? – so he freezes cautiously, not daring to blink and breathe.
Saihara blinks in confusion. His long eyelashes flutter like butterfly wings.
“That was… a harsh welcome,” he forces an awkward chuckle. “You look distressed, did something happen?”
Is he playing dumb?
A million guesses run through Ouma’s sweating head. If anything, he’s known Shuichi for five years, and trying to fool Kokichi so stupidly is the last stunt he expects from him. Well, it’s not like Kokichi trusts him or something – he’s well aware how suddenly people may change and that he shouldn’t let his guard down, even in dreams. That’s simply not the case. It just… doesn’t make sense for Shuichi at all.
He keeps staring at his dream companion, mouth agape, and notices how the taller boy looks more and more confused.
“Ouma-kun?”
Okay. Kokichi mentally orders himself to calm down and straighten his back. Instead of giving in to emotions, he’ll play a detective, just like Saihara usually does.
“Where were you last night?” he smirks. “I met so many people yesterday. It was refreshing, but I was surprised not to find you among them. I even thought I finally got a better substitute.”
A flash of pain, subtle and faint, runs through Shuichi’s hazel eyes and makes them look sadder than usual. The boy fixes his cap, lowering its bill as much as possible. Even though it’s the exact reaction Kokichi wanted, a small needle of disappointment pricks his heart.
“Oh… so you were in a dream without me…”
Shuichi’s breath suddenly hitches. He covers his mouth, softly pressing his palm to his lips – the gesture he does every time he figures something out.
“Ouma-kun, are you a real person?”
“Huh?” Kokichi spits, stricken by such a dumb question. “Of course I am, I told you–”
His heart stops at the same time Saihara interrupts him. Another guess, so reasonable and logical that it makes no sense at all, comes to his mind. The thoughts he kept putting aside, never believing them, swirl inside his head like a destructive hurricane.
“I… I pulled an all-nighter yesterday. There was a lot of work at school, and my Uncle asked for help with a small case… I didn’t sleep at all.” The hazel eyes glare at Ouma with worrying solemnity. The shorter boy takes a step back impulsively and grabs onto the nearest bookshelf because his knees get weak. “Do you know what that means?”
Kokichi knows. He’s known for so long, and Shuichi probably has, too. His lungs feel weirdly light, almost weightless, and he wheezes:
“That you’re a dumb sleep-deprived idiot?” to calm down his crazily pounding heart.
This stupid remark blows away the tension as if it’s just a layer of dust. Shuichi winces, then chuckles condescendingly as his cold hands reach out to Kokichi, helping him stand upright.
“It was just one night. I took a nap during the day, but I didn’t see any dreams.”
“Of course you didn’t. Because I was wide awake, having fun with my bestest of friends!”
Without any explanation, Saihara pulls his dream companion into a tight hug. Kokichi’s nose bumps into the other’s chest while the usual scent of coffee surrounds him, changing the disgusting mucky smell of the library into something nicer. The purple-haired boy can hear Shuichi’s pounding heart through the soft fabric of his classy white shirt; it never occurred to him how apparent and realistic the sounds were, or maybe he never paid attention to Shuichi as much as to the worlds around them. Now, however, he snuggles up to his friend, ear pressed against his chest, and listens carefully, not missing a single beat, savoring every thump like a calming melody. Cold hands wrap around him and clasp on his back, long fingers start tenderly tracing his backbone.
All of these feelings, bright and lifelike, make Kokichi realize how alive and real Shuichi is. He will never go anywhere. He won’t disappear without a trace. He doesn’t depend on Ouma’s imagination or state of mind. He will always be there, waiting in their shared dreams, never leaving his side no matter where their fantasies take them.
“Trustworthy?” his mind whispers cautiously. Kokichi flinches.
Is he?...
“So you figured it out too,” a mild echo from Shuichi’s soft voice flies up to the ceiling. “Does it mean we share dreams somehow? I didn’t think it was possible.”
“Why, I knew all along because it’s totally possible!” Kokichi smirks inside his chest. “My friend also shares dreams with another guy. They got married and have dream kids now.”
A tender chortle. “Liar. Did you miss me?”
“Not at all. Last night was a nice change of pace.”
“Liar.”
“It’s not a lie! I’m telling you the truth!”
Kokichi finally lets out a laugh that isn’t forced but sincere, its melody ringing harmoniously with Shuichi’s quiet voice, and their echoes turn into a warm, loving melody. It feels like the unreachable ceiling disappears and lets the sunlight pour inside; it paints the bookcases in brighter colors, scatters glitter into the air, and the whole ominous atmosphere that kept Ouma on edge disappears.
There is no way a real person can make him feel so unrealistically at ease by simply being around.
“Um, Ouma-kun?”
Kokichi raises his eyes to meet Shuichi’s. He can see the pink blush sprinkle the young detective’s cheeks, and – for some reason – it immediately warms his heart.
“Since it’s confirmed that we’re both real people… Unless my mind is playing some very complicated tricks on me,” Saihara averts his gaze with an adorably guilty smile. “Can we… maybe… spend the rest of the night talking about each other?”
“What do you mean?” Kokichi gasps softly, raising his eyebrows. He pays attention to every little gesture and movement of his dream companion as if he examines a very important clue and notices how nervous the boy is.
“I mean, I would love to know about you and your… daily life?” Shuichi’s hand timidly reaches the bill of his hat to pull it lower. “We barely know anything about each other. And I’m… curious to know more about you. You seem like an interesting person.”
Getting to know each other better… Talking about their daily lives…
Kokichi’s heart starts racing frantically in his chest like one of the beasts they fought in their older dreams, and he can’t calm it down. An emergency joke or a smooth lie won’t appear in his spinning head, either; to cover his hitched breath and burning cheeks, he grabs his friend’s hat and teasingly swings it in front of his face. Shuichi jolts – the perfect opportunity to escape that Ouma doesn’t want to waste.
Hide-and-seek has always been his favorite game. He’s going to run away and hide in this bookcase labyrinth, and then–
He hasn’t seen Shuichi without his stupid hat ever since he was 13. The sight of him stops the train of thought and freezes his tensed-up body.
There is no shadow to cover the upper half of his face anymore, so it appears in front of Kokichi in its whole beauty, soft pale skin begging his fingers to touch it, dark-blue hair looking so soft that his hands hurt once he imagines how nice it would feel to play with it. Even his eyes look clearer and bigger, along with the eyelashes that now seem much longer.
Shuichi hasn’t changed much over the years, only got a more adult look and attitude to him, yet Kokichi can’t stop staring and admiring each tiny detail as though they haven’t met in a long time.
Does he look exactly the same, or is it an idealized version of him? How does he see Kokichi, then?...
Suddenly deep in thought, Ouma doesn’t care to notice how Shuichi’s hands travel from his spine to his arm, gripping it firmly so that he can’t escape. The hat returns to its owner; however, he doesn’t put it back on anymore.
“Don’t take it off so harshly, okay?” he asks softly. The tender tone of his voice sends waves of electricity down Kokichi’s arms and legs. “And please don’t dodge the question. I’ll understand if you don’t want to share anything about yourself, just answer it honestly.”
Why is he so kind to Ouma? Wasn’t he more cautious before?
It’s strange to feel dreamy and absent-minded while already being in a dream. Kokichi blinks a few times before the static leaves his mind and he can be himself again.
“But of cooourse I would love to know more about my imaginary friend!” he snickers, his own voice barely reaching his ears through the heavy pondering. “Do you have friends? Are you a teacher’s pet at school?”
His free hand meets Shuichi’s on the bill of the hat. Ignoring the tickling feeling in his lungs and stomach, Ouma watches with satisfaction how his friend winces and blushes harder.
“And stop wearing this hat already, jeez! You look so much better without it!”
The taller boy manages to squeeze out a shy smile. “Didn’t you tell me the complete opposite back when we first met?”
“That was a lie. I’m a liar, after all.”
They drop the hat on the floor.