Archive of Our Own

Shuichi loves a good mystery.

It’s in his nature, of course. He’s not called the Ultimate Detective for nothing.

He loves the thrill of the investigation, the feeling of accomplishment when he gets his answer. It doesn’t even have to be a particularly interesting question. It doesn’t even need to be urgent. It just needs to be something that he can unravel. Shuichi hates leaving a question unanswered, a knot untangled. It leaves an itchy, tingling feeling in his head that just can’t be scratched by anything other than solving it.

Shuichi has solved hundreds of little mysteries in his life.

But his most interesting one by far is sitting right next to him, insisting that he’s the next heir in a long line of royalty from a country that Shuichi has never heard of but most definitely and totally exists.

Kokichi bounces a bit in his seat, “You’re going to regret not listening to me, Shumai,” he says haughtily, “Especially when I get my royal guard to throw you in the dungeon. There are rats down there. They’re suuuuuuper hungry.”

Shuichi snorts, “Of course, how could I forget about the rats?” He rolls his eyes, propping his chin on his palm, “Tell me again, where exactly is your palace? What are the neighboring countries?”

Kokichi falters, and Shuichi grins, “Gotcha.”

Kokichi blows a raspberry in his direction, but he doesn’t look particularly irritated about being called out.

And that’s precisely why Shuichi is so fascinated.

If it were anyone else calling him out, Kokichi would’ve immediately whined about how boring they were for not playing along.

But there’s always this sort of glint in Kokichi’s eyes when he lies to Shuichi. Shuichi always wants to call it hope, but he doesn’t trust his deductions quite so fully. But it’s undeniably there, glittering and soft and absolutely imperceptible to anyone else. And isn’t that the most intriguing thing about Kokichi’s whole schtick? What is Kokichi hoping for? That Shuichi will figure him out? The idea that something is lying just beneath the surface of Kokichi’s absolute mistrust and unbreakable deception, that something is screaming out to be figured out, to be understood, is absolutely captivating to Shuichi.

Kokichi is… Well, Shuichi isn’t quite sure what Kokichi is to him.

A friend? Sure. Kokichi makes it a point to spend as much time as humanly possible acting as Shuichi’s shadow on any given day. He’s definitely nicer to Shuichi than he is to their other classmates. That’s not to say that Kokichi doesn’t prank and lie to Shuichi incessantly. But the pranks Kokichi plays on Shuichi are definitely more harmless than his others.

“You’re the worst,” Kokichi smushes his cheeks into his palms and sticks his tongue out, but there’s a crinkle at the corners of his eyes that tells Shuichi that he’s enjoying himself.

Shuichi can’t help the fond smile that touches his lips, “I’m sure.”

Aside from trying to unravel him, Shuichi honestly really, actually enjoys Kokichi’s company. Sure, he does everything in his power to make every situation as difficult as humanly possible. Sure, he’s the most dramatic and reactionary person that Shuichi has ever met in his life. And of course, he makes it a point to hold people at arm’s length and snaps when they try to get too close. But he challenges Shuichi. He’s sharp, and quick, and far more intelligent than anyone ever wants to give him credit for. Which means that Shuichi is always gearing up to be one step ahead of Kokichi, calculating and sidestepping and trying not to be taken in by his ridiculous tall tales. And surprisingly, Shuichi finds that fun. He can’t help the excitement that bubbles in him when Kokichi grins at him after Shuichi has picked apart one of his lies.

“Mmmh,” Kokichi looks pointedly at a nonexistent watch on his wrist, “It’s been at least ten minutes since Tenko has called me a degenerate. Maybe I should glue her shoes to the ceiling of her room?”

He suddenly slams his hands on the table, eyes sparkling, “Or I could steal all of Himiko’s doves and set them loose in Gonta’s bug room! Then I’ll tell Kaito that Maki asked to meet him at Gonta’s lab because she found a really cool butterfly. And I’ll tell Gonta there’s a problem with the ant farm, so when gets there, he’ll think that Kaito put the birds in there to eat his bugs because he hates them so much!”

Shuichi blinks at him.

Kokichi frowns, bringing a hand to his mouth, “Oh but then we’ll have to plan Kaito’s funeral.”

“Don’t do that,” Shuichi says flatly, biting at the inside of his cheek to keep from giggling.

Shuichi knows that Kokichi isn’t as callous and careless as he’d like everybody else to believe. He may poke and prod and rile up their classmates at every opportunity presented to him, but Shuichi knows that he really cares about them all. They may not all think that Kokichi is their friend, and Kokichi wouldn’t admit his fondness for them even under threat of death, but he works his way around them all in his own ridiculous and backhanded ways. He picks them apart and riles them up and turns their thinking around in ways that challenge them to solve their own problems without ever realizing that he’d led them there by the nose. Shuichi doesn’t care what anyone else says, he knows Kokichi is a good person under all his bravado and insistence of being composed of pure evil.

“You are absolutely no fun at all,” Kokichi juts his lip out in a ridiculous facsimile of a pout, crossing his arms over his chest, “Don’t you ever wanna have fun?”

“Have you ever seen me have fun?” Shuichi asks.

“Yes, actually,” Kokichi grumbles in response, then his eyes light up with almost manic glee, "Don’t you remember?"

Shuichi groans, sinking back in his chair and letting his arms hang limply at his side.

"When you stayed up for like three days straight working a case," Kokichi manages to say through his giggling, "And you were so convinced that you'd finally caught the Zodiac killer. And when you woke up, it was just a picture of Ted Cruz.”

“That was one time,” Shuichi grumbles, trying and absolutely failing to sound annoyed.

Kokichi rolls his eyes, “Sure, sure, you can accuse a major politician of being a serial killer and it’s no big deal. But the minute I even suggest that he really might have eaten that guy’s son everyone loses their minds.”

Shuichi can’t help the laugh that he barks out at that.

Kokichi has probably seen him have fun more times than anyone else, actually. He insists that Shuichi shouldn't take everything so seriously. That he needs to let go and enjoy himself. Kokichi often makes him laugh, unexpectedly and boisterously and sometimes so ridiculously that Shuichi finds himself ducking his head in embarrassment afterwards. But when he looks back up, he always finds Kokichi smiling at him. And it’s not the sharp, feral grin that he plasters on by default. It’s something quieter, maybe a little proud.

This time is no different. Kokichi’s eyes look soft, and his smile is just barely there, but it’s so achingly fond.

It never fails to make Shuichi’s stomach flutter.

And therein lies the problem. If not for the butterflies that explode in his stomach when Kokichi focuses his attention solely on him, Shuichi might say that they’re just really good friends. But he can’t quite delude himself into thinking that Kokichi doesn’t mean far more than that to him. His heart skips and he fumbles over his words when Kokichi calls him his “beloved”. Kaede has started to keep a tally of times she’s caught him staring longingly at Kokichi.

“Listen I still think I need to catch him,” Shuichi grins, “Anyone who's that obsessed with astrology needs to be brought to justice."

He can’t deny that he loves catching Kokichi off guard and making him laugh in return. Kokichi is good at forcing it when it’s fake, but it’s different when he laughs for real. His eyes crinkle, and it’s not so restrained, and he wraps an arm over his stomach to curl his fingers into his shirt. Invariably, it makes Shuichi’s heart flip flop and his hands clench into fists to stop from reaching out.

So Shuichi can’t help himself when he leans over and bumps their shoulders together fondly.

Kokichi leans against him, still giggling, and Shuichi’s heart skips a beat. Kokichi goes deathly still not a moment later, as though he realizes what he’s doing. He leans away, and Shuichi watches his throat bob as he swallows, cursing himself internally for being so greedy.

“Shumai is much smarter than any of those losers.” Kokichi seems to regain the slip in his composure, “Wouldn’t the Ultimate Detective be the perfect criminal?” He gasps, pointedly scooting away and putting a good foot of space between them, “That’s like, super scary! No one would ever catch you! You could steal anything!”

Shuichi tries to mask the disappointment from showing on his face when he thinks about the distance between them. He keeps his tone light, “I think if either of us would be a master thief, it’d be you, Mr. I-Stole-the-Crown-Jewels-and-Keep-Them-Under-My-Bed.”

And here lies Shuichi’s biggest mystery, currently. He wants so badly to be able to reach out and touch Kokichi. He may be closer to Kokichi than anyone else, but it’s still only as close as Kokichi will allow. He’s tried, over the past few months, slowly and steadily. He’ll sit closer, bump their elbows together, lean in that much closer, try to let their hands brush or set a hand on his shoulder, all manner of casual touches.

And there’s always a split second, a tiny fraction of a moment, where Kokichi seems to relax, to want to lean into it. His eyes go a little soft, and Shuichi’s heart thunders with how hard he hopes to be accepted. And always, Kokichi pulls away like he’s touched a hot stove. He gets loud, and changes the subject, and draws the attention elsewhere. And the disappointment sinks like a stone in Shuichi’s stomach.

“I don’t know,” Kokichi pretends to think it over, tapping a finger against his lips, “Maybe you’re plotting a crime against me right now.” Kokichi’s eyes narrow, and his gaze turns sly, “Maybe you’re trying to steal my heart!”

Shuichi doesn’t understand it. These little pokes and prods in the direction of flirting. He knows he isn’t the only one reaching out. He’s watched Kokichi’s cheeks go pink and his head duck to hide it. The nicknames and brash declarations of love sound a little more honest sometimes, tinged with quiet affection. On Shuichi’s more generous days, he lets himself admit that the signs point to Kokichi wanting to reach out in the same way that Shuichi does.

And yet, Kokichi pulls away. It’s frustrating.

“And if I am?” It comes tumbling out of his mouth before Shuichi thinks better of it.

Kokichi’s eyes widen, and his face goes carefully blank. The muscle in his jaw jumps when he clenches his teeth, and he swallows.

“I’d say,” he murmurs, violet eyes flashing with something sharp and bright, “That you have to catch me first, Mr. Detective.”

Then he’s gone.

And Shuichi is left to ponder what exactly that means.

The only conclusion that Shuichi can come to is that Kokichi is afraid.

Shuichi isn’t blind to the way that the rest of their class has treated Kokichi in the past. They’ve said mean, nasty things. Called him terrible, and annoying, and unloveable. Insisted that nobody wanted him around. Flat out ignored him. Made no effort to understand him, or include him, and immediately assumed the worst of him in every situation. They’ve blamed him for things that weren’t his fault, or that he couldn’t have done. Most of them wouldn’t acknowledge him as a classmate, let alone as a friend.

Shuichi doesn’t know much about his past, or his life before coming to Hope’s Peak, but he can only assume that Kokichi doesn’t mention it for a reason.

Things are better now, due in no small part to Shuichi’s intervention. He’s fought with almost every one of his classmates on one occasion or another over the things they’ve said to him. He doesn’t defend Kokichi blindly, of course. He lets Kokichi get chewed out when his pranks have gone too far, or hit someone’s sore spot that he’s very aware shouldn’t be picked at. But when someone goes too far, Shuichi is the first to jump in and put them in their place. It’s the only time that he has a backbone, when he can defend someone else.

But it doesn’t take back the things that they’ve said in the first place.

And maybe Kokichi believes them. Maybe he thinks that he is annoying and terrible. Maybe he believes that no one wants him around. That he’s unloveable. And that’s why he amps up his schtick. As a defense mechanism. If they’re going to think those things about him no matter what he does, he might as well act the part. It’s easier than trying, and being rejected anyway.

It would explain why he’s so overt in his flirting with Shuichi. He’ll tell anyone that’ll listen that Shuichi is his favorite. He preens and praises and coos over Shuichi’s every move. If he puts on a show, and pretends that he doesn’t mean it, then it’ll mean less if he’s turned down. If it’s not real, then it can’t hurt as badly.

It’s a vulnerable thing, to admit to wanting someone in such a soft way. It makes Shuichi a little queasy sometimes, to think about how desperately he wants to be allowed into Kokichi’s space like this. He thinks about it all the time, sliding his fingers through Kokichi’s hair, and kissing his forehead, and holding him. He wants to feel Kokichi laugh under his hands, face buried in Shuichi’s neck, warm and happy. He wants that vulnerability so, so badly. But Kokichi doesn’t do vulnerable. Shuichi knows that it terrifies Kokichi, the idea of opening himself up to being hurt. Maybe that’s part of why he wants it so badly. To know that Kokichi really sees him as someone worthy of showing his softest parts to. To know that Kokichi can trust him that much.

It’s a lot to ask right now, of course.

But maybe Shuichi can work up to it.

Maybe he can earn Kokichi’s trust.

Maybe he can catch Kokichi.

~~~~~~

They both tactfully avoid talking about their last conversation.

It’s not for lack of wanting to talk about it. It’s been pretty much the only thing on Shuichi’s mind since it happened.

He fantasizes about scenarios in which he’d reached for Kokichi’s wrist and kept him there. He’d say, “Looks like I just caught you.”

And Kokichi would smile and he’d sink into Shuichi’s lap and he’d say, “Maybe I wanted you to catch me all along, Shuichi.”

And then they’d both lean in until their noses were brushing and Kokichi’s fingers would slide into his hair and Shuichi would press his fingers against Kokichi’s spine-

And Shuichi literally has to slap himself because he’s being so ridiculously cheesy and romantic that it makes him want to puke. He drags his fingers down his cheeks and groans in frustration and tries to actually consider what he should do.

It hadn’t been a dismissal. Kokichi hadn’t seemed repulsed by the idea. That’s always a good sign. The bare minimum, really.

And Kokichi hasn’t obnoxiously declared that it was a lie or a joke. Another win for Shuichi.

Despite how badly he wants to just grab Kokichi by the shoulders and shake him until all the answers fall out, he can’t risk the devastating setback that being so upfront would most certainly cause in their relationship.

This is a delicate situation, and Shuichi needs to treat it as such.

So maybe he’ll… flirt a little more? Try to get a little closer to Kokichi than normal?

Because that’s worked out so well in the past.

He’s sure it’s useless to plan this kind of thing, because somehow Kokichi manages to derail every single thought and idea he has. But there’s a tension between them now that makes him want to chew through concrete.

He needs to give himself some sense of control in the situation, some sort of plan to work his way through unraveling the mystery that is Kokichi Ouma.

He just hopes he doesn’t mess it up and ruin everything.

~~~~~~

It starts like this:

Kokichi, as always, is bored.

“I might die, Shumai,” he says, deathly serious, wide eyes pleading and lower lip quivering pitifully.

Shuichi sighs, closing his book and settling back against the tree behind them. “That is absolutely tragic.”

A breeze ruffles Kokichi’s hair, fanning it across his face. Tears shine in his eyes, threatening to slip down his cheeks at any moment. “You don’t even care!” He gasps, “I’m gonna die and you don’t even care!”

“How many people have died from boredom, again?” Shuichi asks.

“Like, at least a thousand. And I’m going to be next!” Kokichi flops onto his back dramatically, clutching at his chest, “I can see it! The light!” He wails.

Shuichi just watched, eyebrows raised, fighting back the smile that threatens to curl at his mouth. Kokichi had entertained himself for much longer than Shuichi had expected, humming little songs that are just slightly off key and pointing out the shapes in the clouds. But clearly, the lack of Shuichi’s attention had become too much for him. He’s been a little needier lately. There’s an anxious energy about him.

Kokichi pops back up suddenly, tears streaking down his cheeks, and gasps again, “What are you going to do if I die?! You’ll be so bored without me that you’ll be next! Are you just going to let that happen?!”

Shuichi makes a show of pursing his lips and obviously thinking very hard about this predicament. “Oh darn,” he says flatly.

Kokichi shrieks, exploding into a flurry of motion. He’s on his feet in an instant, violently pointing one finger in Shuichi’s face. “You’re mean! And rude!”

Kokichi grabs for the tree branch above his head blindly, still glaring at Shuichi, “And now I’m going to go up into this tree and die!” He kicks his feet up against the trunk of the tree, trying to pull himself up onto the branch he’s holding. “Don’t come to my funeral!”

Shuichi does laugh, then. Kokichi whips his head around, his best how-dare-you-betray-me-like-this look plastered on his face.

“And now you’re laughing?!” He cries, “I thought you loved me, Shumai!” He manages to pull himself up and twist to sit on the branch, legs dangling on either side of it.

Shuichi looks up at him, still giggling. He clears his throat, putting on his best apologetic voice, “I’m very sorry, Kokichi.”

Kokichi wraps his legs around the branch and then lets himself drop so he’s hanging upside down. “You could at least-“ His bandana falls over his face. He plucks the end of it up with two dainty fingers, looking incredibly unimpressed. “You could at least try to sound like you mean it!”

Shuichi’s lip quivers with the effort it takes not to laugh at him again. “I do mean it, honest,” he says. He draws an x over his chest with one finger, "Detective's honor."

“That's not even a thing!” Kokichi exclaims. He crosses his arms over his chest defiantly, bandana falling back over his face, “I don’t believe you. You’re gonna have to prove it to me.”

Shuichi takes a moment to stare at him, taking in the ridiculousness of the situation. A sudden wave of affection blooms in his chest at it all. Maybe this is a good opportunity to try the whole flirting thing. But what is he supposed to say? He leans forward, supporting himself with one hand on the ground, and picks up the edge of the bandana again. He’s closer than he should be, really, spurred on by the fondness that flutters in his stomach.

“I care about you, Kokichi.”

It comes out without his permission, and wholly softer than he expects.

Kokichi’s eyes go wide. Shuichi watches his pupils dilate. His breath hitches, lips parting. A flush blooms across his cheeks.

For once, he’s speechless.

It’s precisely at that moment that Shuichi realizes what he’s said. He’d told himself that he was going to take this slow. He’s opening his mouth to explain himself, to soften what he’s said-

And then Kokichi is crashing to the ground, landing face first, barely catching himself on his elbows.

“Oh my god!” Shuichi all but shrieks, “Are you okay?!”

After what feels like an eternity, Kokichi’s head pops up to look at him. He’s got his usual grin plastered to his face.

“Awwwww,” he coos, “So you really were worried about lil ole me!”

Red starts to blossom from a cut on his forehead, trickling down toward the end of his eyebrow.

“You’re bleeding!” Shuichi gasps, hand darting out with the impulse to brush his hair back. He lets it hover between them uncertainly.

“You must be seeing things,” Kokichi grins even wider, “I actually had all my blood replaced with peanut butter six months ago, so I can’t bleed.”

Shuichi ignores him, getting to his feet and dusting his pants off. “C’mon, we’ve gotta take care of that,” he pleads, feeling all too acutely aware that it’s probably his fault that Kokichi had fallen out of the tree in the first place. Attempt number one at simple flirting had been a raging failure.

Kokichi springs to his feet, and Shuichi can’t ignore the way he winces when he straightens up. “Is my beloved still trying to prove that he cares about me?” He waggles his eyebrows teasingly, which only causes more blood well up from his forehead.

Shuichi turns to start toward the dorms. They’re closer than the school building, and Shuichi knows the first aid kit in his bathroom is fully stocked.

Kokichi’s voice comes quietly from behind him, “If you keep this up, then I just might start to believe you.”

There’s a note of something in Kokichi’s voice, there. It almost makes Shuichi stop short. He falters for a split second, and literally bites his tongue to stop from doing something stupid, like spilling his heart on the spot and scaring Kokichi away entirely. It would be all too easy to turn around right there and insist that Kokichi should believe him, because Shuichi cares about him in ways that make his chest ache.

But instead he ducks his head and pushes open the door to the dorms.

Kokichi follows him into his room easily, whistling a little song that Shuichi can’t quite place. Shuichi guides him to his bathroom and points to the toilet.

“But I don’t have to go,” Kokichi deadpans.

Shuichi rolls his eyes, yanking open the medicine cabinet to pull out his first aid kit. When he turns around, Kokichi has surprisingly listened, and perched himself on the closed toilet. His shoulders are tense, and his hands are clenched into fists on his knees.

“Are you gonna have to amputate?” He asks seriously.

“Your… Face?” Shuichi blinks back at him.

“Give it to me straight, doc. How bad is it?” His lower lip juts out, eyes glimmering again with fake tears.

It’s an attempt to lighten the mood, Shuichi knows. To make everything a little less serious. But Shuichi can see the tightness around his eyes. How badly he wants to cut and run. His left leg jumps slightly in his restlessness.

It settles a little pang of hurt in Shuichi’s chest, to know that Kokichi is so guarded that something as simple as having a cut taken care of puts him so on edge. He’s really that unwilling to let his guard down.

But he hasn’t actually run away yet, and Shuichi thinks that has to count for something. He wonders what’s so different this time. That he’s made it this far. That he’s being allowed this.

Shuichi grabs a wash rag from the towel bar next to the sink, and runs a corner of it under warm water. He turns back to Kokichi.

“Ah… Can I…?” Shuichi gestures lamely with the wash rag, and his heart starts to thump a little harder. He’s really pushing it, here, he knows that. Kokichi could decide to back out entirely.

Kokichi stares up at him for a long moment, lips pressed tightly together.

Then he nods, short and jerky, “Go ahead. I’ve been waterboarded before, I can take it.”

He’s still deflecting, but it’s permission nevertheless.

Shuichi takes a step closer, slow and careful. He reaches out with his free hand. It feels like approaching a wild animal. One wrong move, and Kokichi might snap at him.

Maybe the approach makes all the difference. Shuichi is giving Kokichi time to prepare. The ability to decide to stay, and the freedom to back out.

And Kokichi is deciding to stay.

He lets his fingertips catch Kokichi’s bangs, brushing them back from his forehead. The hitch in Kokichi’s breath is almost silent, but impossible to miss in their close proximity.

The trickle of blood has made its way down Kokichi’s temple, thankfully missing his hair. Kokichi stares resolutely at the ground, fists clenched so hard his knuckles go white.

Shuichi brings the washcloth in gently, with as soft a touch as he can muster, and wipes it away. Almost instantaneously, he watches Kokichi relax. His shoulders drop, hands unclenching against his knees.

Shuichi gets a little greedy, then, letting his thumb brush at Kokichi’s hairline. It’s so easy to want to touch him gently. To want to give him everything.

Kokichi’s eyes snap up to look at him then, and Shuichi feels incredibly caught. He can feel the flush that crawls up his neck and across his cheeks.

He turns away, setting the washcloth in the sink to deal with later and finding an alcohol swab and a bandaid in his kit.

He rips open the packet for the swab with fingers that feel a little too shaky to be strictly comfortable.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, “This is probably going to sting a little.”

Kokichi just watches him owlishly. It’s the longest Shuichi has seen him silent.

Shuichi presses the swab to the cut, watching Kokichi’s eyes twitch from the sting of it. But that’s it. That tiny motion is the only reaction he gets. And that’s how Shuichi knows that this situation is so incredibly delicate. Usually, Kokichi could be expected to burst into fake tears, whining and sobbing about how badly it hurt. But he’s still silent, eyes nearly boring holes through Shuichi’s skull. He’s a little flustered under the unwavering gaze, truth be told.

Shuichi reaches for the bandaid next, peeling it from its wrapper and reaching out again to brush Kokichi’s bangs out of the way. Kokichi’s face is absolutely unreadable, carefully composed save for the tiniest twitch of his eyebrows when Shuichi presses the bandaid down over the now clean cut.

And again, Shuichi can’t help but push his luck. Kokichi’s hair is surprisingly soft under his fingers. So he lets them slide down to curl a stray lock of hair behind Kokichi’s ear. Kokichi is deathly still. He can control his expressions and his body language, but he can’t control the blush that crawls across his cheeks.

“Let me see your hands?” Shuichi asks quietly. “You caught yourself pretty hard when you fell.”

There’s a long moment of silence, in which Shuichi fully expects Kokichi to spring up and tear out of the room in one of his usual dramatic exits.

Instead, Kokichi swallows, throat bobbing, eyes darting around Shuichi’s face calculatingly.

Shuichi just waits. He doesn’t push, doesn’t hold his hands out expectantly, doesn’t do anything at all. Just waits for Kokichi to move.

Both hands are offered to him, palms up. There’s a tremble in his fingers that’s impossible to miss.

Shuichi reaches out slowly. He takes one hand in both of his own, amazed that he’s being allowed this. It’s smaller than his own, and warm. Dirt is smudged into the lines of Kokichi’s palm. Shuichi brushes his thumbs over it, smearing it away. He can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of Kokichi’s hand in his, the way his fingers curl in and shake. He wants to lace their fingers together. Wants to lean forward and wrap Kokichi in his arms and tell him he doesn’t need to be so afraid.

“Have I caught you yet?” curls against his tongue, threatening to bubble up and out.

Instead, he switches to the other hand, brushing away the dirt on that one as well.

He presses into the pulse point in Kokichi’s wrist. He feels Kokichi’s heartbeat jump under the pad of his thumb, hears the slight, sharp intake of breath.

Shuichi looks up, then.

And Kokichi looks broken open. Cheeks pink, pupils blown wide, lips parted. It’s the most honest expression of emotion that Shuichi has ever seen on him.

Shuichi is dumbfounded by it.

It’s like nobody has ever touched Kokichi kindly in his entire life. Like it’s the first time that he’s understanding that it doesn’t have to hurt. Like the realization could shatter him if Shuichi missteps now.

Shuichi digs his teeth into his bottom lip, trying to compose himself.

“Looks like they’re okay,” he forces out, wincing at how weak and shaky his voice is.

Kokichi stares up at him. He blinks twice, licks his lips. There’s the tiniest shake of his head. He blinks again.

“So you’re not gonna have to amputate?” He asks, but it lacks all of his usual bravado. It’s quiet, and gravelly, and there’s a tremor that runs through it.

Shuichi can’t help the grin that pulls at his mouth. He shakes his head.

“I guess you get to keep them this time,” he says, “You were very lucky.”

His stomach swoops when KokichI gives him the tiniest crooked smile in return.

“Yeah,” Kokichi murmurs softly, “I was.”

~~~~~~

Things are different after that day.

It’s like a dam has broken.

Not entirely, of course. Kokichi is still Kokichi. He’s still loud and brash and wholly unpredictable. He doesn’t change his behavior when anyone else is around.

But when they’re alone, there’s something creasing at Kokichi’s brow. Like there’s something that he wants to say. Something he wants to ask, but he doesn’t know how.

It’s not uncommon to catch Kokichi watching him. He watches everyone, whether they know it or not. He’s never been shy about observing people to figure out the best ways to needle at them.

But it feels a little different now, in a way that Shuichi can’t quite figure out. It’s intense, the way Kokichi’s eyes lock onto him.

Suddenly, Kokichi is the one inching closer. Not close enough to touch, always a hair’s breadth away. Just close enough for Shuichi to feel the warmth that radiates off him, just far enough away that it aches.

Kokichi has always orbited him closely, but not quite so intently.

Had Shuichi taking care of him really affected Kokichi so profoundly?

Shuichi feels like maybe he’s not the only one doing the chasing anymore.

And then it happens. They’re in the library, and they’re supposed to be doing literature homework. Kokichi always prods Shuichi into doing it together because he doesn’t have the patience to analyze the books like Shuichi does.

“Why would I spend my time focusing on the stories when my beloved is so much more interesting?” He’d said, and Shuichi had flushed terribly and buried his head in his book, leaving Kokichi looking awfully proud of himself.

Shuichi always agrees to work together. So there they sit, nearly shoulder to shoulder on the floor in front of one of the bookshelves, notebooks spread out in front of them, Shuichi trying valiantly to read their assigned passage while Kokichi prattles on aimlessly about some made up tale of world destruction or another.

“So ya see, once I had them both tied to the blimp I climbed back down to light the fireworks. And that’s when the Emperor decided to surrender.” He gestures animatedly in Shuichi’s peripheral vision.

Shuichi snorts out a laugh, “And he agreed to give you the scroll?”

Kokichi rolls his eyes exaggeratedly, “I already stole the scroll two days before that. I wanted the jewel out of the crown. God, Shuichi, keep up!”

Shuichi laughs, “Ah, of course. My mistake.”

Kokichi continues on that way for a while, and the sound of his voice makes for oddly soothing background noise.

After a while Shuichi abruptly realizes that he’s been able to read far too many paragraphs uninterrupted. Kokichi has fallen silent beside him.

Shuichi glances over, and he catches it.

Kokichi’s fingers twitching and clenching into a tight fist, half-started toward him and quickly retracted.

Shuichi freezes, and comprehension dawns on him.

All of the intense stares, the hovering, the increase in pet names.

Kokichi wants to touch him again, and he doesn’t know how to ask for it.

Shuichi has to approach this with the utmost caution. He can’t come right out and acknowledge the situation, or Kokichi will close off, defensive and deflecting, and the moment will be ruined.

So what is he supposed to do?

He stares down at the book in his lap, looking right through the words as he focuses.

Last time, the thing that had seemed to make all the difference was giving Kokichi the power in the situation. So maybe he should do that again?

Carefully, as nonchalantly as he can manage, Shuichi takes one hand from his lap and lays it on the floor at his side, palm up.

He feels very much like he’s dealing with a terrified feral cat.

Nothing happens for a few moments. Shuichi pretends to read, turning the page and trying to will his heart to stop pounding so hard. His chest is tight with anticipation.

Then, there’s a light touch to his palm. Kokichi’s fingertips trace up across his own. And then Kokichi slides his fingers to fit between Shuichi’s, curling around to settle against his knuckles.

Shuichi’s whole body feels alight with just that simple point of contact. He swallows hard, stomach fluttering at the feeling of Kokichi’s palm against his own.

He spares a glance down at their joined hands, and the sight of it makes a giddy smile tug at his lips.

He flicks his eyes up to Kokichi, who seems to also be pretending to read. His eyebrows are furrowed, but his mouth quirks up the tiniest bit.

Shuichi runs his thumb over the back of Kokichi’s hand, delighting in the soft sigh that he gets in response.

He pretends to read again, memorizing the exact feeling of Kokichi’s hand entwined in his, until Kokichi speaks again.

“Did I ever tell you about the time I broke into that French art gallery and coated all the floors in purple paint?”

Shuichi closes his book, shaking his head, “No, I don’t think I’ve heard that one yet.”

~~~~~~

They don’t talk about it, the fragile tenuous thing that’s building between them. Not that Shuichi doesn’t want to. It itches at the back of his throat, desperate to claw its way out. He has to physically bite his tongue to hold himself back, to stop himself from blurting out compliments, or a confession, or even a thank you.

It’s silly, but he does feel the urge to thank Kokichi. For trusting him, for opening up to him, for letting him closer than anyone else has ever been.

But he doesn’t.

He holds it in.

Because this is more than he could have ever hoped for. It’s better than he’d imagined.

The idea that he’s being allowed into Kokichi’s space is a wonder that he can’t fully comprehend. He’s intoxicated by the thought that maybe he’s been able to show Kokichi that it’s not a mistake to let him in. That maybe Kokichi looks forward to seeing him too. Maybe Kokichi gets the same giddy flutter in his stomach when their palms touch.

He can’t afford to ruin this.

Kokichi seeks him out alone a little more regularly, in quiet corners of the school. They sit together, hands joined and laughing. It gets easier. He pulls Shuichi across the courtyard for walks sometimes, fingers tangled together tightly.

It feels like a revelation. Like he’s unraveling a ball of yarn that twists around Kokichi’s heart.

Kokichi even seeks out his hand under the blanket while the whole class crowds in the common area for Angie’s newly instated weekly movie night. Shuichi thinks he’s becoming a little bit addicted to the feeling. He must be smiling like an idiot, because Kaede catches his eye from a couch across the room where she’s settled on Rantaro’s lap and raises an eyebrow, grinning a little too sharply for his liking. He’s going to get grilled about this later. Shuichi makes a mental note to buy her favorite mochi as a bribe.

Angie flips the lights off, and they all settle in for whatever sappy romcom Keebo has been allowed to pick under the guise of learning more about human emotion.

Kokichi scoots closer in increments over course of the movie, until they’re pressed shoulder to shoulder under the blanket and Shuichi is fighting tooth and nail against the urge to loop an arm around his shoulders to hold him. He’s so warm. Shuichi wants him curled up in his lap, comfortable and close. He wants to thread his fingers into the curls at the back of his neck and hold him until he falls asleep.

Everyone ends up completely enraptured in the movie, gasping and laughing at all the expected moments. They collectively hold their breath as the pair on screen draw each other closer, finally confessing their feelings to each other.

Kokichi takes that opportunity to lean his head on Shuichi’s shoulder, and Shuichi thinks he might combust right there. He doesn’t dare move, barely breathes. He keeps his eyes fixed forward on the tv, watching the new couple on screen share their first kiss, and absolutely aching to know that feeling.

~~~~~~

Movie night quickly becomes Shuichi’s favorite night of the week. It’s so easy to escape anyone else’s attention (save for Kaede and now Rantaro, who now give him twin stares of encouragement) and to get to hold Kokichi’s hand for nearly two hours straight. Kokichi always ends up dropping his head on Shuichi’s shoulder, wisps of hair tickling at his cheek. It’s so unbelievably nice, feeling the weight of another person against him.

This night in particular, Kokichi tentatively curls his arms around Shuichi’s own under the blanket, holding it in his lap. After a while, he lets his fingers stroke over Shuichi’s palm in nonsense patterns. Shuichi sighs contentedly. He barely registers the movie they’re watching.

“Shumaiiiiii,” Kokichi whines as soon as the credits are rolling, detached from him and stretching both arms above his head, “I’m sooooo tired. You’re gonna need to walk me to my room to make sure I don’t pass out on the way there.”

“Fine, fine,” Shuichi hums, standing up to stretch his legs.

No one really comments on their early departure, entirely too used to them being nearly joined at the hip. The only one that might say anything is Miu, and she’s passed out with her head on Keebo’s lap.

Once they’re outside, Kokichi reaches over to take his hand again, lacing their fingers together like it’s something they do every day.

And, oh, Shuichi supposes that it is something that they do every day now. The thought makes him feel like he could float away.

“What did you think of this one?” Shuichi asks, just to fill the silence.

“Mmh,” Kokichi seems to consider, bringing his free hand up to curl under his chin, “I think they could have avoided it all.”

Shuichi frowns, “What do you mean?”

Kokichi shrugs, “If he just told her how he felt before she decided to leave the country. They wouldn’t have had to go through all that, yaknow? Isn’t it so much easier to just say what you’re feeling?”

It’s subdued, and tenuous, and Shuichi gets the feeling that they’re not just talking about the movie.

The dorms come into view across the courtyard.

Shuichi swallows, “He wanted to,” he says quietly.

Kokichi makes a questioning sound.

“I think he wanted to tell her,” Shuichi murmurs, heartbeat quickening, “But… he was scared. That he might ruin everything.”

Kokichi is quiet as he pulls open the door to the dorm.

He keeps hold of Shuichi’s hand, pulling him to a stop in front of his own dorm room. His back is to Shuichi, staring down at his shoes.

Then he’s whirling around to wrap his arms around Shuichi’s waist, pressing them chest to chest in a hug. He buries his head against Shuichi’s shoulder, sucking in a deep breath.

Shuichi barely has time to react before Kokichi is pulling away and reaching for the door. He pulls it open quickly, and then stops, looking back over his shoulder.

“I think,” he whispers, eyes glinting in the moonlight, “She was scared too.”

Then Kokichi is gone, door clicking shut behind him.

Shuichi stands outside of Kokichi’s door, one hand braced on the railing for support, absolutely dumbfounded.

After an indeterminate amount of time, he stumbles back to his room on shaky legs and collapses into bed.

He falls asleep wishing he wasn’t such a coward.

~~~~~~

Their next class movie night is canceled. There’s been a nasty flu going around campus, and they’re all trying to take a bit of time away from each other until it runs its course. Shuichi can’t say that he’s not disappointed, but he understands the importance of their distancing.

So he isn’t exactly expecting the knock on his door after dinner. Kokichi is on the other side, clad in a dark purple t-shirt and black sweatpants and immediately waving something in front of Shuichi’s face.

He presses the thing he’s holding against Shuichi’s chest and side steps past him into the room.

“Wooooowwww,” he exclaims exaggeratedly, “Nice place ya got here, Shumai.”

“Your room looks exactly the same,” Shuichi sighs, shutting the door behind him.

“Naaahhh,” Kokichi flops onto Shuichi’s bed, making himself right at home, “Mine’s got all my stolen treasures in it. Looks kinda like a museum. Plus, I glued all my furniture to the ceiling.”

He kicks his feet under the comforter, pulling it up to his waist. “Well,” he waves his hands at Shuichi, “What are you waiting for?”

Shuichi finally looks down at the thing Kokichi had shoved into his hands. It’s the first movie in a new thriller series that Shuichi had mentioned wanting to see the week prior.

“You wanted to see it, riiiight?” Kokichi asks from the bed, “Well just because movie night was canceled doesn’t mean we can’t still watch it.”

“But, wasn’t it your turn to choose this week?” Shuichi tilts his head questioningly.

Kokichi brings one finger to his chin, looking up at the ceiling in thought, “Was it?” He asks airily, “I totally had no idea. I found that on the side of the road. And I was soooooo bored that I figured we might as well do something! Convenient, right?”

A sudden wave of affection bubbles up in Shuichi’s chest, warming him from the inside out. “Yeah, really convenient.”

He pops the disc into the DVD player beneath the TV and grabs the remote to take back with him.

Kokichi holds the comforter up for him to slip under, and Shuichi settles next to him, briefly adjusting the pillow behind himself. He hits play, and sets the remote on the desk next to his bed. Then he flicks the lamp off, leaving the flicker of the television as the only light source in the room.

“I heard the butler did it,” Kokichi says next to him.

Shuichi snorts, “The butler died in the last movie.”

“That’s what you think,” Kokichi shifts closer, sliding his fingers between Shuichi’s, “I got to see all the pre-screenings of this movie. I know the director. You’re gonna be so sorry when I’m right.”

Shuichi hums in amusement, “We’ll see.”

It doesn’t take long for Kokichi to curl closer, laying his head on Shuichi’s shoulder like usual. They idly theorize throughout the movie, trying to beat each other to solving the mystery.

“It was definitely the dog,” Kokichi mumbles.

Shuichi laughs out loud at that, “It was not the dog!”

“It could have been,” Kokichi says, deathly serious, “She was the only one in the house.”

“And what did she do with the hammer?” Shuichi asks.

“Ate it, obviously,” Kokichi responds simply.

Shuichi giggles, nudging at Kokichi where he leans on his shoulder, “I think it was his best friend’s wife.”

“No way!”

“Then explain where her gloves went when she came back to the garden!”

He watches Kokichi mouth a few words, eyebrows furrowed in thought. Then his mouth falls open in a gasp.

“Shit!” Kokichi exclaims, looking thoroughly scandalized, “You bastard!”

Shuichi tries not to look too satisfied with himself when the best friend’s wife is indeed revealed as the killer.

It must not work, because Kokichi punches him in the side, grumbling about how it’s cheating to be the Ultimate Detective.

He settles back against the pillows with his arms crossed over his chest, pouting ridiculously as Shuichi laughs.

Shuichi prods at him, shaking his head, “Come on, it was a hard one to solve. I almost missed the glove thing!”

Kokichi blows a raspberry at him, “I’m freezing all your socks into ice cubes tomorrow.”

Shuichi huffs a laugh, sitting back and grabbing the remote from the desk. “Want me to find one of those police dramas so you can solve something too?”

“You’re a jerk!” Kokichi flings a hand out to slap at Shuichi’s face, eyes welling with crocodile tears, “I bring my beloved the movie that he wants to see and this is how he repays me!”

Shuichi catches his hand easily, “I thought you found it on the side of the road?”

Kokichi screeches in frustration, flopping down onto his side and burying his head in the pillow.

Shuichi flips through the channels until he finds something vaguely familiar looking. It occurs to him how incredibly easy it is to be with Kokichi like this. He’s had so much fun, felt so at ease, and he doesn’t want Kokichi to leave.

He finds himself wondering what it might be like to have this every day. This quiet sort of companionship. The easy jokes, the casual banter. He wants it so, so badly.

“Hey,” he nudges Kokichi with the remote, “You like this one, right?”

Kokichi peeks his head up from the pillow, “So what if I do?”

“Come watch it with me?” Shuichi asks, setting the remote back down on the desk, “I’ve never seen it, and it looks like it’s just starting.”

After a few seconds, Kokichi is shifting. Shuichi expects him to sit back up like before. But instead, he’s worming his way under Shuichi’s arm, curling close to his side and resting his head on Shuichi’s chest.

Shuichi nearly forgets how to breathe. Kokichi is a solid line of warmth pressed to his side, one hand settling on his chest. His hair tickles Shuichi’s cheek. He can feel the rise and fall of Kokichi’s back with every breath. He sets his hand down on Kokichi’s side, just over his ribs. He can feel his heart pounding under his palm. It’s all utterly intoxicating.

He can’t believe he’s being allowed this. That they’ve come so far. That they’ve gone from Kokichi flinching away when Shuichi’s hand brushed him, to Kokichi curling up on his chest like he belongs there.

And it feels like he does. He fits so perfectly into Shuichi’s arms, forehead pressed into the crook of his neck. One leg moves to curl over Shuichi’s.

His eyes sting. He swallows hard against the tears that burn threateningly behind them. He’s so happy. So deliriously happy. Everything blurs in front of his eyes, and he takes a deep, steadying breath.

His thumb brushes over Kokichi’s side, warm through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Kokichi sighs, warm breath fanning against his neck.

So he does it again, fingertips grazing over the ridges of his ribs. He watches in amazement as goosebumps rise on Kokichi’s bare arm. Kokichi’s nose presses to the underside of his jaw as he squeezes closer, fingers curling into the front of Shuichi’s shirt. He keeps doing it, fingers tracing up against his back, over his shoulder, and down over his arm. And wondrously, Kokichi keeps letting him.

It feels like a miracle.

He drags his fingertips back up Kokichi’s arm, and this time, he lets them slide up into the hair at the back of Kokichi’s neck. An almost violent shudder wracks through Kokichi’s body, and his breath whooshes out in a gasp.

Shuichi scrapes his nails oh so gently over Kokichi’s skull, scratching lightly. Kokichi goes absolutely boneless in his arms, draped heavily over his side, face buried in his neck. The movie sounds like static through the heady warmth rushing in Shuichi’s ears. He lowers his head, pressing his nose to the crown of Kokichi’s head and closing his eyes. He pulls lightly through Kokichi’s hair. It slips like silk through his fingers. He doesn’t want to move ever again. Not in his entire life. If Kokichi will stay here and let him do this forever, Shuichi will be content.

They don’t move, not even when the movie is over. Not when the next one starts.

Eventually, Kokichi’s breathing evens out, and Shuici realizes that he’s fallen asleep.

Kokichi trusted him enough to fall asleep in his arms.

He squeezes his eyes shut, and this time, two tears do cut tracks down his cheeks. He hastily brushes them away with the back of his hand.

He’s so exhausted, and so comfortable. So wildly happy.

He dips his nose to Kokichi’s hair again, and presses his lips to the top of his head.

He’s asleep before the movie is over.

~~~~~~

Shuichi wakes up warm. It feels like he’s holding a hot water bottle.

He sighs, moving to roll over and finding that he can’t. Not with the weight pinning down his shoulder.

He opens his eyes blearily, trying to blink away lingering the blurriness of sleep. Something soft brushes against his cheek. There’s a quiet sound from just under his chin.

All he sees is purple.

Shuichi’s eyes snap open fully, and he’s suddenly wide awake.

Kokichi is sleeping on his chest.

He’s just woken up holding Kokichi.

He stares, wide-eyed at the ceiling, remembering the night before.

Kokichi hadn’t left. If he’d woken up in the middle of the night, he’d chosen to stay.

There’s a soft groan, and Kokichi shifts against him, curling further into his side.

“Can you stop breathing so hard?” Kokichi mumbles against his neck, lips brushing his skin.

“Sorry,” Shuichi says dumbly, head still spinning.

“You’re being a really shitty pillow right now, you know,” Kokichi thumps a hand against his chest frustratedly.

He reaches around Shuichi’s waist to curl fingers in the back of his shirt and tug. Shuichi lets him pull him onto his side so that they’re face to face. Light creeps in through the thin window in the door. It keeps the room from being too bright.

Kokichi’s eyes are still squeezed closed, and his hair is even wilder than usual. Shuichi reaches out automatically, brushing the hair off his cheek and tucking it behind his ear. Kokichi blinks his eyes open slowly. He considers Shuichi silently, hands tucked under his chin.

“Kind of rude to wake me this early, dontcha think?”

“You don’t even know what time it is,” Shuichi laughs.

“It feels early. I can just tell,” Kokichi yawns, nose scrunching.

Shuichi doesn’t know what possesses him to say the next thing that falls out of his stupid mouth. Maybe it’s the early morning, or how comfortable things have been between them.

“Does this count as catching you?”

Or maybe he’s destined to ruin every good thing that comes his way. Maybe it’s just in his nature to poke and prod at things until they crack open.

Kokichi’s face goes carefully blank, and Shuichi thinks that maybe he’s actually ruined everything. He props himself up on one elbow, hovering over Shuichi. Shuichi rolls onto his back, looking up at him. His tongue itches with the urge to apologize, to beg Kokichi not to leave, to swear that he won’t bring it up again.

He’ll never solve another mystery in his life if it means that he gets to keep this. He won’t push any more, he won’t ask for any more answers, he won’t try to take more than he deserves. Just as long as he can keep this.

“I think you caught me a long time ago,” Kokichi whispers, “I was just too afraid to admit it.”

Shuichi’s heart nearly stops.

“But maybe,” Kokichi’s teeth sink into his bottom lip. He takes a shaky breath, and tries again.

“Maybe I decided I wasn’t scared anymore, Shuichi.”

Shuichi blinks. He barely has time to comprehend that statement. Only vaguely recognizes that Kokichi has used his given name.

And then Kokichi is leaning down to kiss him.

Shuichi’s brain short circuits. He swears his heart stops.

Kokichi pulls back, just barely, just enough to look him in the eye. He’s flushed, and beautiful, and he’s just kissed him.

Shuichi’s brain catches up then, and he’s reaching back up to thread his fingers into Kokichi’s hair and pull him in to kiss him again.

Kokichi scrambles closer, so that he’s leaning halfway over Shuichi, one hand tangled in his hair.

Shuichi slides their mouths together slowly, and the feeling shoots pure electricity down to his toes. His hair stands on end. His head is fuzzy, swimming with how deliriously happy he is.

He slides one hand down Kokichi’s back, pulling him closer still. Kokichi’s fingers clench in his hair, and the sound Shuichi lets out in response is going to embarrass him until the day he dies.

His brain short circuits when Kokichi does it again. He’s not sure what comes over him, but the next thing he knows, he’s got Kokichi on his back, and he’s leaning over him, kissing him like he’s the only answer to every question he’s ever had about the universe.

He bites down gently on Kokichi’s lower lip, and the whine that’s breathed out against his mouth is going to be in every single one of his best dreams from this moment on. He thinks he might have actually just died. There’s no way that anything real can be this good.

He has to pull back eventually, because Kokichi’s hands are shaking so badly against his neck that he’s not sure he’s going to make it out in one piece.

And seeing Kokichi below him, hair fanned out onto the pillow like a violet halo, flushed and looking up at him like he’s the reason the stars shine at night, it’s his new reason to exist.

It makes him lean back in, just because it’s a miracle that he’s allowed, to kiss him again. Softer this time, barely there at all, thumb stroking across Kokichi’s cheek.

When he pulls away, Kokichi leans up to try to follow him, eyes still closed.

“I think I love you,” Shuichi blurts out.

Kokichi’s eyes snap open wide, amazed and disbelieving and terrified all at the same time.

“You-” he breathes, nearly silent. He opens and closes his mouth wordlessly. His eyes go glossy, overly bright with tears. His lower lip trembles. He swallows hard, clenching his jaw. “It only took one kiss for you to confess your undying love for me?” He chokes out.

Shuichi catches a tear at the corner of his eye with the pad of his thumb, “Maybe I decided I wasn’t scared anymore either.”

Kokichi huffs a watery laugh, “That was my line, you jerk.” But he’s smiling, and that’s always been more than enough. “Finally decided to catch up?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shuichi leans forward to kiss the tip of his nose.

“I’ve only been calling you my beloved for the past three years,” Kokichi teasingly yanks at a lock of hair at the back of Shuichi’s neck. His voice drops low, “And how many times did I tell you I loved you the most?”

“I, ah-” Shuichi feels like someone’s hit him with a metal folding chair, hearing those words and knowing that Kokichi means them, “I suppose you- did say that.”

He’s so stupid. The answers had been there all along. Right under his nose, thrown into his face every day, over and over. If he’d just paid attention, Kokichi never would have been a mystery in the first place.

But it’s more fun this way, isn’t it?

Kokichi shakes his head, still grinning, “I guess you’ll just have to make it up to me for all the times you didn’t say it back.”

“I love you,” Shuichi says simply, loving the way that Kokichi goes a little bit helplessly smitten in response, softer than Shuichi has ever seen him.

So he says it again, leaning in to kiss Kokichi’s cheek, “I love you.”

He breathes it against Kokichi’s temple, “I love you.”

Kokichi clutches at his back, fingers twisted tightly in his shirt. His shoulders shake, and when Shuichi leans forward to press their cheeks together, he feels the tears that gather there. A choked off little sound is lost against his neck.

He just holds Kokichi that much tighter, pressing a kiss to the shell of his ear, “I love you.”

~~~~~~

The next movie night, Kokichi parks himself squarely on Shuichi’s lap before the lights are even off. He loops his arms around Shuichi’s neck, squeezing tightly and nuzzling into his cheek.

“Sooooooo comfy,” he hums obnoxiously in contentment into Shuichi’s neck.

Across the room, Tenko grumbles something about them being disgusting, despite Himiko being sat on her lap in the exact same way, already dozing off.

Miu points at them viciously, “Ha!” Is all she has time to get out before Keebo is slapping a hand over her mouth.

To their left, Rantaro is visibly restraining Kaede, who looks like she’s ready to leap over and strangle him for not telling her the exact moment that their relationship had started. If he makes it out of that conversation with all his limbs attached, it’ll be a miracle.

Gonta, bless him, just gives them a huge smile and claps in delight.

Kaito gives Shuichi a big thumbs up, looping his arm around Maki’s shoulders, “Finally decided to join the club, bro?” Maki swiftly punches him in the side, glaring murderously, but settling under his arm regardless.

The rest of their classmates look thoroughly uninterested, save for Angie, who is crouched in front of the movie shelf, both arms raised, palms up, “Oh Atua, please choose a movie to bless this new couple so that their union may last forever and ever!”

She settles on Shrek 2, which makes Kokichi laugh so hard that he’s inconsolable for the rest of the night.

Shuichi just holds him while he giggles into his neck, warm and happy and utterly content.