Chapter Text
He lies on his back in the grass, dandelions sparse but surrounding the two of you nonetheless. You worry for the grass stains that are sure to sully your Hope’s Peak uniform, but a part of you thinks, Isn’t this nice?
“…Kyoudai?”
You turn your head at his word. He looks perturbed, eyes downcast and hands folded over his chest.
“Can I…talk to you about somethin’?”
“What about?”
“…S…S’about my brother.”
His hand reaches to his forehead, uncertain, violets blooming in his beautiful eyes. They focus into the sky, to the fluffy clouds that hover overhead and the brightness between them. Sunshine lights up his dark skin; the soft curves of his face, the slopes, the angles, the tip of his nose, the cupid’s bow of his lips.
“You can talk to me about anything,” Your words tiptoe, carefully broaching the subject that he’s always so sensitive about. “Go ahead.”
There’s a silence; for a moment, he looks pained. You wonder what it could be that’s hurting him so much, and you think it’s the secret he’s always kept from you. It was something you always knew was there; a terrible secret that he couldn’t tell anyone. You’ve always known he had it and you’d always wondered. It never occurred to you to ask. It’s probably better you didn’t. Everyone has things they’d rather not talk about; it’s not as if you don’t have things like that, either.
His lips part, words bubbling out like rising steam from a boiling pot of water.
“I killed him.”
The words don’t register right away. His long, mascara laden eyelashes droop onto his cheeks, a grimace forming on his features as soon as the dreaded words have left him.
“You…killed him?”
“Yeah. Murdered ‘em. S’my fault he’s dead.”
His words are heavy, yet empty. Hollow. Spoken with so little emotion, yet full of it. You stare at him, shocked, yet you find yourself unable to believe him at all.
“…Explain.” You prop yourself up on an elbow, turning your body towards him. “You aren’t making sense.”
“What don’tcha get?” His eyes remain closed. “I killed my brother. There ain’t anythin’ else to say about it.”
“Why? How?”
Mondo hesitates, eyes creaking open. “…Well…”
He takes a deep, shaky breath. His voice sounds out in a monotone, emotionless, detached.
“Back when he was about to graduate from high school…he was sayin’ he was gonna leave the gang to me. But a lot of guys from the gang— they didn’t think I was— they didn’t think I was strong enough for it, y’know? So a lot of people were thinkin’, well, what’s the point in bein’ in the gang if Daiya ain’t in it anymore?
"So…I was…scared. Yeah; scared, I guess. I didn’t wanna lose face cuz I was the dumb younger brother who was just gettin’ the gang cuz he was aniki’s family. I challenged him to a race, and I thought, y’know, if I beat ‘em, I’d’ve earned the gang, right?”
“Right.”
“But…when we were racin’, I…”
At this part he starts to get a little choked up. For a moment, you think he’s going to cry— but he presses on. You wish you could hold his hand.
“I…s-started drivin’ on the wrong side of the road, tryin’ to go faster, cuz he was winnin’, and…y’know, this, uh, this uh…this t-truck came barrelin’ down towards me, but Daiya, aniki, he slammed his bike into mine, and…”
There’s a clear look of agony on his features. Your brow furrows. “Mondo…”
“S’all my fault,” The heels of his palms press into his eyes. “I-If I hadn’t been so stupid…i-if I hadn’t been goin’ so fast, if I wasn’t on the wrong side of th’road…”
At the very least, he is not a murderer.
You aren’t very good with things like this. You can feel the tears welling up in your eyes, threatening to overflow. After some deliberation, you finally reach out and pull him into a hug.
It’s a weird position, lying in the grass, but it’s intimate and, hopefully, comforting. You can hear how shaky his breathing is, and it hits you how fragile he is.
He puts on such a front all the time. He acts tough, he yells at people and starts fights and sneers and curses. He’s gone through his entire life like that— strong, stronger than anyone.
But he isn’t that strong.
He’s very afraid. And he’s just as vulnerable as any person, if not more. Having to be strong, never getting to show how upset you are…
It’s not something you can relate to, but you understand it.
“I…lied about it to th’gang. I told ‘em…that Daiya’d been the one drivin’ like an idiot.” His hand grasps at the shoulder of your suit jacket. “They all believed me. Jus’ like that. Even though he’d been such a great guy…they believed me, me sayin’ he was gonna lose t’me…Fuckin’ dirtyin’ up his name like that…W-When he’d just died…” A small sound like a sob. He holds on a little tighter. You can’t tell if he’s crying, but all you know is you never want to let him go.
“…Kyoudai. You’re no murderer, nor anything of that sort.” You say firmly. “How could you say that’s your fault? It was an accident. It’s not as if you pushed him into the oncoming truck.”
“But it is my fault. I might as well have… I…I-I always do this shit. I always hurt people, always.” Petals begin to fall from his exterior, revealing a sensitive center. “I always fuckin’ hurt people! Every goddamn time! I scare people off a-and I mess up and hurt the p-people I care about! The fuck is wrong with me!?”
"You haven’t hurt me—”
“We’ve fought before, dammit! And…e-even if you don’t count that, how do ya know I won’t do it some other time?! What if…what if I kill you, huh?!” He pulls back, eyes squeezed shut. “What if I hurt you?! You’re my best goddamn friend, and I could…I could fuck you up so badly! Aren’t you scared of me?! I’ve hurt so many goddamn people, I’ve KILLED someone, you gotta be scared of me—”
“Are you joking?” Your hands remain on him, resting on his shoulders. “You don’t think I could fight back? Like you said, we’ve fought before. I can do more than hold my own. If you tried to hurt me, I’d easily defend myself. You’re one of the most harmless people I know.”
That seems to shut him up for a second, but he gains steam again. “I’m stronger than you. I could still hurt you bad. I could hurt anyone. Fujisaki…Kuwata…Naegi…” He scoffs. “It’d be no problem. They can’t fight back like you can.”
“…Mondo.”
“And you know what? Sometimes, sometimes— I’m GLAD he’s dead, y’know? That I got the gang, that I ain’t got anyone raggin’ on me. I’m better off on my own.”
“That’s a lie.”
“He was weak. An’ I’m strong. He could’ve just let me die, but he had to push me out of the way. Weak! He’s fuckin’ WEAK! And it’s— it’s my— it’s all my fault—”
Your palm makes contact with his cheek, slapping him straight across the face.
“W-Whuh—”
“Mondo, you’re talking like an idiot.” You stare deep into his eyes. Widened, uncertain— scared. They’re watery, tears slipping down his cheeks, and you don’t feel like crying yourself anymore. You want to be strong for him despite how much it hurts you to see him like this. “It’s not your fault. And you wouldn’t hurt anyone. If you did, I’d snap you out of it.” Your fingers dig into the fabric of his blazer. “You don’t mean any of that. If you were glad your brother was dead, you wouldn’t be like this. And you couldn’t get along on your own. You’d get terribly lonely.”
He opens his mouth in protest, but you stop him.
“And furthermore, I could care less about how ‘scary’ you are. I know you better than that. You’re about as scary as a teddy bear! For all the time I’ve known you, you’ve been kind, friendly, considerate…you’re making yourself out to be some kind of monster.” His shoulders tense. “You’re nothing like that. You’ve made mistakes, just as anyone else has, but that won’t stop me from being your friend.”
He’s silent. You can hear the grass moving, the distant sounds of bicycles and water, people’s voices. It’s all so distant— all there is is the two of you, and you wish it was like this more often. You 'hang out' together, do all the things it appears friends do— yet it's never been enough.
He’s so close— so wonderfully close. You can hear his breathing, smell the gasoline; you could do anything at that moment. Your foggy world could be his. At this moment, surely, in any movie, this would be the moment when you kiss the girl. Her lips will be soft, she’ll grasp weakly to the front of your jacket and it will all be magical. But she is a boy, a young man who’s taller and bigger than you, who’d push you away and run far far away and you’d never catch him.
“…Why…do you care so much?” He asks quietly. “Why’re you sayin’ all this? Why aren’t you afraid of me?”
The words come naturally. A part of you wishes you could have stopped them, but at the same time, you bottled them up for long enough. A year, even. School days spent arguing, talking, studying, watching movies together and eating junk food and becoming friends— the truest friend you could ask for, and you—
“Because I love you.”
And it’s true.
You’ve never felt like this ever before in your life. Not even once. It’s not the same as the respect you showed your parents, nor the infatuation with success, no relationship could ever compare. Your genuine feelings are written into your DNA, coded with anything else; your love is oceans and miles and mountains. Your love is the sunset, the sunrise, the dusk— the time of night when it’s so dark, it’s almost bright. Your love is waking up in the morning and going to classes and seeing him, his stupid hair and his thick eyeliner and crooked grin. The fog that hangs around your ankles, the mechanical whirring from beyond the walls of Hope’s Peak, the squirming feeling in your veins...It all goes away. One touch from his rough hands, one smile, one bark of laughter, and it all melts away. You adore him— you respect him— you revere him— you care about him— you want to be with him— you NEED him— you love him.
His face floods with color. He stammers, pulling back further. You wish he didn’t.
“Y-You— what’re you sayin’?!” He reaches a hand up to his hair, twisting a free lock of dark brown around his fingers. “S-Sometimes I don’t think you even know what you’re sayin’.”
“I’m saying I love you.” You try to regain eye contact, but he won’t meet your eyes. “What’s hard to understand about that?”
“Stop sayin’ that! You don’t…You don’t really mean you…”
“I do.” You assert.
“…W-What kinda love are we talking about here?!”
“Why does that matter?”
“Why do you think it matters?!”
You furrow your brow. “I just mean I love you. I love being around you. You’re important to me. More than anyone else.”
His face is bright red. He puts it in his hands.
“M-More than anyone else…?”
“Yes.”
“…You’re crazy.”
“Maybe.”
“…Can you just tell me in what kinda way you’re sayin’ you like me?”
“I’m not saying I like you, I’m saying I love you.”
“Stop! Sayin’ that!”
“No.”
His hands shoot forward, startling you. He grabs your face and pulls on your cheeks, drawing them apart.
“O-Ow! Kyoudai—”
“You’re gonna drive me nuts, asshole!” He smushes them together. “Just…t-tell me, dammit! Or else!”
“Or else what?!”
At that moment, he puts you in a headlock, and drives his knuckles into your scalp. You squirm, trying to push him away.
Objectively, this is uncomfortable and strange. But in another way…this is Mondo. This is what he always does. He’s so…odd. Odder than anyone. Moments like these are why you love him— when he doesn’t worry about his strength or anything. He treats you like an equal.
You love him so much, it actually physically hurts. It wrenches up your chest, it twists and contorts and curls and you can’t put words into it. This unending devotion, like you could spend the rest of your life with him, easily. Like you know those feelings could never change. The way he smiles, the way he yells. His hands, his lips, his ears, his thighs, his toes. All the times you watched him dig into a cake, grinning like he was the luckiest person on the planet. Watched him pet dogs, eyes lighting up and ruffling their soft fur. Gentle hands, hands that couldn’t possibly hurt another person. There’s a mole on his right shoulder, he freezes up when he gets scared, his hair is curly and coarse and you can’t explain, you can’t even begin to explain this horrible, terrible feeling. Your heart swells, it brings you to tears, it’s all too much to handle and it makes you feel so strange, how you could love a person this much, want to make them happy, want to know them more than anyone else and hold their big, dumb hands and fall asleep next to them, even if they snore. He’s— he’s so wonderful, beyond your own understanding. He accepted you, he showed you kindness you’d never known.
This world is very unfair. But finally, finally it gave you the fortune to meet him. To know him. To know his worst secret.
You find yourself clinging to him while he makes a choking noise. Your face buries into his neck, arms wrapped around his middle. You sigh against his skin, he shudders and attempts to pry you off.
“S-Stop— Whaddaya think yer— C-C-CUT IT OUT, DAMMIT! OFFA ME!! STOP HUGGIN’ ME! STOP IT!!! STOP!!!!!”
“No.”
“LEGGO!!!”
“No.”
“GOD DAMMIT, KIYOTAKA—”
"I love you.”
He shudders again, his attempts to pull the two of you apart growing weaker.
“…Wh…Why?” He asks, in a voice so quiet, you’re not even sure it’s directed at you. You answer regardless.
“Because I do. I always will, no matter what.”
“A-A-Always…?”
“Always.”
“W-W-WHADDAYA EVEN MEAN, ALWAYS?! THE FUCK ARE YOU SAYIN’?! FUCKIN’— PUNKASS PIECE OF—”
“It doesn’t matter.” You hold him a little tighter. “Your brother would forgive you. Just like I do. He loves you too. I know it.”
“M— M-My brother—”
“Mondo, I care about you.” You wish you were closer. “…If I told you how I love you…would you consider accepting my feelings?”
“A-ACCEPTIN’— Y-Y-YOUR FEELIN’S—”
You wonder if people can hear him yelling. “I love you in every way. Like a friend, like a brother…like a lover—”
“A-A-A-A-A LOVER?!”
“…Would you ever…reciprocate that?”
Ah. Until you had said those words, you weren’t even worried. But now paranoia grips you tightly. What if he says no? What if he pushes you away? What if he denies it all, what if the friendship ends? What if you lose him?
Your stomach flips. You suddenly feel sick. He could say no. He could kick you out of his life. He could beat the shit out of you for loving him. Boys…shouldn’t love boys. You’re afraid…very, very afraid.
But his shaking hands clutch at your back. He hugs you like you hug him.
“I…”
He doesn’t seem capable of speech.
“…You don’t have to answer it now.” You pull back a bit, but his grip keeps you near him. “Take your time.”
He’s blushing incredibly hard. Still. It’s…it’s adorable. He nods, his eyes shut tightly.
“…Should we go home?”
“…Yeah.” He manages to force out words. “That’d…be good.”
He lets go. You sit up, stretching as he straightens up himself. You’re on your feet in a few moments, offering a hand and helping him to his own.
Your hand lingers longer. He notices, and tugs his away.
“…R-Right. Let’s go.”
You smile. Not because you’re happy, but because you have hope. You have hope he’ll love you back.
One day.