Work Text:
If I were to get 3 wishes, I would know exactly what to say.
I would wish that the feeling of my hand brushed against yours absolved you of your sins; exorcized you of your rigid fears and complexions, turned you into the man you had always wanted to be.
I would wish that the intertwining of our legs while we slept would clear you of any illness, freeing you from the frigid mentality of untrust and desire to unfeel. Freeing you from the inhospitable labyrinth in your mind, making you believe every turn you take is the wrong one.
I would wish that the touch of our lips would fuel you with positivity and happiness, causing you to smile into the affection gesture ever so slightly, trying to hide it. Although it is just wishful thinking, I believe for it to someday be true.
I believe that for every step we take, we get closer to the stars, shining brightly and beautifully. Just like you. Just as you strive to do.
And although you are not free of sin or wrath, you are an angel; a work of art elegantly framed in silver and gold, on the very precipice of hell, moments away from being drowned in lostness and isolation. I have been told by many to push you, nudge you the last few inches it would take to submerge you in true hopelessness. True despair. But I have not. And I refuse to do so.
But I do not need to tell you this, Ouma. You thrive in the pool of hate the people surrounding you drown you in. At least that's what you tell me. What you must tell yourself. Perhaps it's what you'd like to believe. But we both know that its not true. I’m a detective, am I not?
I haven’t always been a good one, I know. Not to you. I wished to fix you, cure you of your negativities. To clear your beautiful body of the scars littered on it, the small lines covering your arms and legs, dressing you in, what I thought to be, shame. What I have now realized is that you are not broken. You are not something to be fixed, or something to be corrected. Your negativities are what make you true. They’re what make you such an intriguing person. Your scars are not something to be cleared or covered. They are not something to be ashamed of. They show me the battles you've won, the things you've fought through and dealt with.
And if I could take back all that I had said, I would. I would tell you that you are more than this, you are more than lonesome, more than a simple trick, more than those lies you deceive even your true self with. I would tell you I’m sorry.
I do not want to fix you, Ouma.
I want to heal you.
Love, Saihara Shuichi.
Just kidding.
…
Love, me.
Long live the king.