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Kokichi hangs off the side of the bed, blood rushing to his head. Upside down, he can still see Shuichi fiddling with his speaker on the other side of the room, probably going to play his favorite Danganronpa anime openings or something like that.
Normal things. For now, at least. But Kokichi knew what he got himself into when he made friends with Shuichi Saihara.
But strangely, it’s not some Danganronpa song. It’s something else. Slow but in an interesting kind of way, an electronic sort of backing that made his ears buzz, he can sort of make out the English words. He’s not the best at understanding spoken English, but it sounds strangely sad and romantic. A weird combination. Not really what he’d expect from Shuichi.
He sees a hand extend towards him, a shy smile hiding under the shadow of the hat that Shuichi never seemed to take off.
“Dance with me?”
Kokichi blinks up at him, “Dance?”
Shuichi chews on his lip, “Why not?”
Kokichi sits up, the world swirling around him slightly as the blood rushes out of his head. “Because that’s not really a thing we do, Shuichi.”
A smile creeps onto Shuichi’s face. “Well, it’s a special day.”
“Not really,” Kokichi mutters.
“It’s your birthday.” Those golden eyes practically shine at him from under the shadow of the brim of his cap— like headlights in a dark tunnel.
“So...” He crosses his arms over his chest.
Shuichi’s hand comes closer, “So… dance with me.”
Kokichi uncrosses his arms, lifts up his own hand, and considers for a moment. It’s stupid… whatever this is. But that insistent sort of look on Shuichi’s face has him curious what inspired this bizarre request. Shuichi wasn’t the dancing type. Usually, they just… laid around. Watched Danganronpa, talked about Danganronpa. It seemed to be the only thing Shuichi liked to do, and Kokichi didn’t mind.
Shuichi would ramble, and Kokichi would listen, occasionally inserting his own take. Shuichi always seemed so surprised and would smile so wide every time. It’s weird. But it’s fine.
He likes the way Shuichi smiles at him. He doesn’t feel alone with Shuichi by his side. Not like he used to.
Hesitant, he places his hand in Shuichi’s cold and clammy one. They’ve held hands before, shared sloppy kisses, but every touch still felt overwhelming… unexpected.
Shuichi pulls him to his feet. The song loops. As if it’s all part of some plan. As strange of a person as Shuichi Saihara is, he certainly isn’t a boring one. He’s staring at him with a sort of intensity he thought was reserved for watching gory executions. Sweat drips down the other boys brow. But Kokichi doesn’t mind.
It’s nice… having someone's eyes on him like that. Having someone who seemed glad he existed—unlike the parents, he never knew and the many foster parents after that. The world didn’t seem to give a shit about his presence… but Shuichi did.
Shuichi’s other hand snakes around his waist, resting on his back, pulling him in. Kokichi’s not sure where he’s supposed to put his other hand. He settles for resting on Shuichi’s shoulder, even if it’s a bit higher than his own—it seems right. They stumble through the first few steps, turning in place in Shuichi’s bedroom as the shelves full of Danganronpa merch watch on.
But slowly, after a few stepped-on feet, they find a rhythm. A rhythm that slowly matches up to the beat of the song looped once more. They dance tiny circles around the dimly lit bedroom.
“I guess this will be the last birthday I’ll remember as me.” Kokichi breaks the silence as the dance continues.
“Are you scared?” Shuichi responds, breathily.
He smiles cockily back up at him, “Of course not.”
“I’m so glad… you wanted to audition too.” Those golden eyes bore into him, fervent and intense.
Kokichi isn’t sure what to say. Not with the way his body felt electric, coursing with a buzzy feeling that started at the points where they touched and jolted in time with the music. He’s never thought about dancing with Shuichi before but now that he is…
Even if they are no good, it feels perfect— as if the world didn’t exist anymore. Just the two of them. His heart beats faster in his chest, and he squeezes Shuichi’s hand. The world could burn around them, and he doesn’t think he’d care.
Maybe it’d be better that way. Better than the destruction they were both willfully were heading to. Because… if the world ended now, then at least… they’d have this moment.
Shuichi squeezes his hand back, “This is nice… I’m glad we did this.”
“Such a sap Shuichi,” He teases—half-hearted. Kokichi inhales the distinctive scent that he can’t really describe… it’s just Shuichi.
“It’s good to make memories like this.” And something shifts, cracks. The reminder of all their plans shatters the moment, glass shattering and falling. And the magic is gone, the electricity from before fading into a throbbing numbness.
Kokichi pushes him away, and his voice shakes. He’s not sure if it’s anger or something else entirely. “But we won’t remember any of this, right? So does it really matter?”
Shuichi doesn’t answer. He doesn’t need to. They stand in the room for a while, a few feet apart, a loaded and uncomfortable silence hanging over them. Things they want to say, don’t say, can’t say. It’s not like there’s enough time left as themselves for it to matter anyhow.
Kokichi has listened to all the gruesome executions he’s imagined for himself. He knows Shuichi signed up for that audition wanting to throw away his whole self just to experience a taste of the show he’s dedicated his life to.
Even if it’s fake, it’s a risk. Contestants don’t always make it back quite right. Especially the ones killed in the kind of ways Shuichi talks about. They don’t always bounce back. Making it out alive and intact isn’t a guarantee, even if it's virtual. Shuichi knows. Kokichi knows. They don’t talk about it.
They both have their own reasons for filling out that form, after all.
Kokichi lays on his couch, head hanging off the edge. The blood rushes to his head, and he can feel the pressure build and build. He looks up at the twinkling lights that flash in time to the song he has on loop. It feels like his whole head could explode at any moment. He should sit up, but there's a weird comfort in just seeing how long he can sit like this, in just feeling his body react to things. A body that he never thought would still be here. One that should have been crushed in the maw of the hydraulic press.
Or not. Only the person in the simulation thought it was real. The person who signed him up must have been a glutton for punishment.
There's a knock at his door. He gets up, feet shaky and the world spinny—dizzy from sitting like that for so long.
He pulls off the chain lock and opens the door to Shuichi Saihara’s face.
“Ohhh, lookie here. The star of season 53 gracing me with his presence!”
“Kokichi…”
Kokichi only grins, a mask of sickenly fake sweetness. Rotten and stomachache inducing.
Shuichi sighs. It’s not the first time they’ve been through this whole song and dance. Shuichi comes by, tries to reach out. Kokichi isn’t sure how to feel about it. Not really. He doesn’t slam the door in his face anymore at least. He may actually not mind his presence all that much. Even if makes his insides curl in all sorts of confusing ways.
“You weren’t responding to anyone’s messages.” Shuichi tries to meet his eyes, but Kokichi looks pointedly away, just slightly off to the side.
“Phones dead.” He lies, something that still comes oh so easily to him. Shuichi’s eyes dart over to the cell phone very much connected to the charger on the counter nearby, the screen occasionally lighting up despite being on silent.
“The others were… worried when you didn’t respond.”
“Of course they are! I am a very important person after all.” His cheery pretense falls and shifts to something darker, “Is that why you came here? To check on me? I’m not a child y’know.”
Shuichi ignores him, he’s gotten good at not getting riled up by his antics so much anymore. It’s endearing but also incredibly frustrating. “Everyone just wanted to wish you a happy birthday.”
“It might not even be my real birthday.” Kokichi retorts with a roll of his eyes. It’s not wrong. All their files of their former lives had been destroyed. Team Danganronpa turned out to be rather petty when they left the simulation and refused to comply with all their stupid little rules. Every last bit of information about their former selves was unceremoniously shredded and burned right in front of their eyes. A bargaining chip that was ultimately ignored in their little fight with the company after waking up.
It’s no loss. Whoever signed up for that game was dead and gone, just like the Kokichi Ouma who existed in the game. All that existed now was the shell of a person he was now, floundering through day to day life.
“You should still respond to them.” Shuichi walks to the counter and grabs his phone, holding it out to him.
Kokichi snatches it and makes a show of swiping through, fingernail tapping against the screen. There’s messages in the muted group chat from almost everyone and some individual texts. He doesn’t open them. He knows reading kind words from someone like Gonta is only going to make his insides rot away with more guilt.
He doesn’t deserve the kindness. It’s been two years but that virtual game still haunts him. The things he did and said. The things he witnessed. And the hell that was the headquarters after they woke up. All the physical therapy and shitty psychologists. The struggle to free themselves from the contracts they signed. The struggle to get his body to even somewhat work, even if he still struggles walking too much or standing too long. His muscles cramp easy and his lung capacity is awful.
Shuichi just stands there. He’s used to it at this point. It’s better than the yelling and fighting. He’d rather have silence than that. It’s also better than the crying and guilt that followed after the arguments. They’ve slid into a sort of uneasy truce. Comfortable enough in each others presence but the bridge they have created is at best one of those rickety rope ones that swings precariously over the chasm of strangeness between them. One that might snap at the slightest pressure.
In the silence he can hear the words to the song on loop once more. He’s not sure why he likes it so much. It feels oddly familiar even if he has no memories of it. His implanted memories don’t know this song, but some weird part of him does.
It fills him with some sort of emotion that he has no name for, it almost feels like longing. Longing for some better life, one without Danganronpa. A life that sounds almost like a paradise compared to the one he’s currently living in. He tries not to think too much about how whenever he pictures these other lives… Shuichi is always there.
The song also makes him feel a bit… reckless. More alive than he’s felt in a while. More like… whoever the hell Kokichi Ouma was supposed to be.
The phone gets unceremoniously tossed to the couch, he sees the disappointment flash in Shuichi’s eyes. He holds his hand out and demands with wide eyes, “Dance with me, Shuichi!”
“Dance?” Shuichi echoes, eyes knit together.
“Why not?” Kokichi shrugs and gives a half-smile.
Shuichi’s head tilts slightly, he lifts his hand—hovering it above Kokichi’s, “Because… that’s not really a thing we do.”
“It’s my birthday.” Kokichi’s smile widens. He’s not quite sure why he even asked. Something about the song echoing around his apartment, maybe. Something about it felt right.
“So... “ Shuichi trails off.
“So dance with me!” Kokichi can hear the slight hollowness in his cheery tone. A reminder he’s only a shadow of himself. Shuichi watches him carefully, and sighs. Shuichi’s hand finally joins his, and he yanks them together.
Shuichi sets a hand on his waist, and Kokichi rests his own free hand on his upper arm—gripping slightly on the soft black t-shirt Shuichi was wearing.
They stumble a bit. Kokichi’s legs still don’t quite work all that well and Shuichi was still rather stiff, watching Kokichi as if examining him for clues. After about a loop and a half of the song they find the semblance of a rhythm, swaying back and forth to the song. Shuichi relaxes finally, tightening their grip and allowing their fingers to intertwine. His hand slides back, light on the small of Kokichi’s back. Pleasant and strange.
They circle around his apartment under the twinkling fairy lights strung haphazardly around. The song continues to loop. That strange feeling grows. His heart beats faster and his body buzzes, it feels all too familiar. But they’ve never done anything like this before.
“Want to hear something funny, Shuichi?” He mutters.
Shuichi hums an affirmation.
He pauses the dance, but their hands don’t move, “This feels kinda familiar. Weird huh?” Kokichi gives a half hearted smirk, “Maybe we danced together in another life.”
Golden eyes widen, blinking back as Shuichi’s mouth opens and closes a few times before responding. “Huh...that is weird. I… uh… kind of felt this weird sense of deja vu too. Maybe it’s just the song.”
Kokichi snorts, “Do you know this song?”
“I—I don’t think so.” Shuichi smiles back, somewhat bemused. It’s not really funny but Kokichi almost wants to laugh at how silly this whole thing is.
Kokichi lifts up Shuichi’s hand and spins himself under his arm, “Maybe in some past life, you were one of those old school detectives with a pipe and a magnifying glass, and I was a dashing thief, and we danced the night away under the priceless chandelier I was planning to steal.”
“And?” Shuichi questions, hands still clasped between them.
“And what?”
There’s a sparkle in those golden eyes that makes it even harder for him to breathe than normal, “Did you steal it, or did I stop you?”
Kokichi tilts his head up, and whispers back, “What do you think?”
Shuichi doesn’t answer. They just stand, breathless, lost in each other’s eyes. That wave of deja vu doesn’t fade; it hangs over them like a fog, as if there was some other Shuichi and Kokichi superimposed over them from some strange past. Ghosts of a former life.
Maybe a better life. A life without periods of time just stolen away. One where these confusing feelings meant something. Where being with Shuichi was easier. Things he wants but isn’t quite ready for. Not yet.
“Happy birthday Kokichi.” Shuichi eventually breaks the silence, leans forward and presses his lips to Kokichi's forehead— warmth erupts through his entire body from that one point. Some unspoken line has been crossed, intimacy that should scare him, make him kick Shuichi out of his apartment. But it feels right enough he tries not to question it.
Kokichi bites back some witty retort; the strange spell still lingering in the air between them made his brain too foggy and his tongue too heavy for anything other than a muttered, “…thanks.” Their hands finally fall apart and they collapse on the couch, neither talk about what just happened.
Kokichi still doesn’t really care about his birthday. But... he’s glad he’s not alone.