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“Do I exist?”
Kokichi mumbles distantly, twisting a strand of his hair around a finger, tugging, and letting go. For a moment, he thinks it makes a spring-like shape. He might’ve just imagined it though.
Lame excuse for a conversation starter, huh? What could be described as an innocent idea - innocent enough, at least - can hold a lot more baggage to some than others. That’s true enough for Kokichi.
Or, maybe not. He could be lying about that too. It’s hard to tell anymore.
“What do you mean?” Ryoma murmurs, leaning against one of the roof’s multiple tables that are almost never used and mindlessly chewing the button of a pen. Kokichi, on the other hand, lays flat on his back on the ground. His eyes dart around occasionally, just for him to zone out staring at the void that is the night sky in the middle of a busy city.
There isn’t much to do. More often than not people will be found on the rooftop, huddling for warmth but refusing to go inside because, ‘wow, look at the stars tonight.’
Puh. Stars. He hasn’t seen a star since the killing game.
“I dunno.” Kokichi answers truthfully. He wasn’t sure what he expected to hear. Ryoma’s eyebrows furrow in thought, his face becoming much more serious hearing Kokichi’s tone.
“..I guess it depends on what you think it means to exist.” He eventually states, shrugging.
“What do you mean?” That distant voice asks once again.
“Y’know. Like— If you think it means I see you right now, and can feel you if I went to touch you.. Then yeah. I’d say that’s existing.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah.”
And then there’s a silence. It’s the type of silence that’s tense, but easy to get rid of. In theory.
“Well, that’s your opinion. I guess what I mean is.. Like— does it really matter if I exist or not?”
“Probably not,” Ryoma answers plainly. His bluntness makes Kokichi snort and shake his head, the corners of his mouth tilting up ever-so-slightly.
“Care to elaborate?” He suggests, patting the cold cement next to him. An invitation for Ryoma to lay next to him and look at the stars that disappeared years and years ago.
Ryoma doesn’t take up his offer, instead moving one of the rusty, metal chairs from the table and sitting on it. It’s good enough.
“Are you planning on trying to run away again?” He murmurs, his voice showing the slightest hint of concern. Kokichi giggles.
“Probably not.”
“You’re here, aren’t you? What else do you need to exist?” Ryoma ponders.
“..A personality, I guess,” Kokichi shrugs, picking at his teeth.
Ryoma goes silent, trying to comprehend what the hell he means by that, but giving up in seconds.
“I think what matters is if you think you exist,” Ryoma mutters, chewing on the pen button again. “..Do you?”
A tension falls between them as Kokichi ponders the question, a rare tension that they almost never have. He looks at Ryoma, and Ryoma looks at him, a tingle of anxiety crawling up his spine. Neither of them have an answer.
“I’m beat,” Kokichi says suddenly, much louder than he intended. He swears he saw Ryoma flinch when he sat up so quickly. “I should to-o-otally be in bed by now! How dare you let me overstay my welcome?”
“You’re the one that invited me to sit..”
“And I apologize for doing so. I hear my bed calling for me, so I’m out. Ciao, adios, fare thee well.”
He grins to Ryoma as he gets up, walking off before he can get another word out and leaving him alone on the rooftop.