Work Text:
Surviving death is an odd experience.
Kaito stares at the empty cup in front of him, unable to will himself to finish what he’s started. There’s a pan full of warm milk on the hob, which is still alight. He needs to add hot chocolate power to the milk, before the milk is ruined. Spoilt milk is such a hassle to clean, and smells bad. He really needs to get a move on, before he ruins everything.
He remains as still as a statue, his eyes glazed.
Whilst Kaito isn’t a fan of ghosts, sometimes he feels like he is one, haunting the earth. Sometimes he’s fine, and can exist normally. Sometimes, his memories of the killing game weigh him down, twisting his perception.
Kaito’s dreams are pretty much identical nowadays: he dreams about dying. He can’t call his dreams nightmares, because nightmares are supposed to be scary, right? Kaito’s dreams aren’t scary; they’re just his memories—and Kaito hadn’t felt fear during his execution. Uncomfortable, of course, and he had felt indescribable pain—but not fear. Maybe it’s because he died in space, surrounded by stars.
People aren’t supposed to survive death; it defies everything that death is. Death is supposed to be final. The conclusion—the final page of a story.
Yet here he is, with functioning lungs and a beating heart and a brain that sometimes forgets he’s alive.
What was he doing again?
A cold breeze slices against his skin, making him shudder. Automatically, he turns to see where the breeze came from: the open window. The pale, cream curtains that came with the apartment dance along with each breeze, rising and retreating like ocean waves.
It’s dark outside. There’s a few other windows filled with light, suggesting that Kaito isn’t the only one who is awake at such a ridiculous hour. He wonders what everyone else is up to. Work, probably. Or maybe there’s a few people who, like him, can’t sleep and have decided to make a warm drink.
Ah, that’s right. He’s making hot chocolate.
Before the milk can boil over, he turns down the hob, shrinking the flames. The milk rewards him by quietening down. What does he need to do now? He’s making hot chocolate, but all he’s done is make warm milk. The milk is supposed to be brown, not cream.
Wait, he knows what’s missing—he needs to add hot chocolate powder.
Where did he leave it?
Kaito scans the kitchen, lost. Did he grab the hot chocolate powder earlier whilst getting the rest of the ingredients? It’s not on the counter, so maybe it’s still in the cupboard. But which cupboard? There’s a lot of cupboards, and Kaito doesn’t want to make too much noise; Kokichi is asleep just in the other room.
Dying isn’t the only thing Kaito dreams about.
Sometimes, he wakes up back inside the hangar. Sometimes he wakes up and Kokichi is there, but most of the time he wakes up alone, the bloody hydraulic press his only company. His dreams about dying are easy to deal with, but his dreams about the hangar are not. Maybe it would be more appropriate to call them nightmares. Kaito always wakes up drenched in sweat after being thrown back inside the hangar by his own mind.
Nightmares are harder to deal with, because even though Kaito knows that something isn’t right whilst experiencing one, that doesn’t change the fact they cause fear. Sometimes he’ll hear the slam of the hydraulic press closing even when the hydraulic press itself is closed. Sometimes he’ll feel Kokichi’s eyes boring into him, even though he’s already been reduced to a pool of blood. Sometimes he’ll see blood coating his hands, even though he never touched Kokichi’s blood after killing him.
The thing about nightmares is they don’t care about logic; they just care about causing discomfort—terror.
Kaito finds himself staring down at his hands, although he’s not sure what he’s checking for. They’re slightly warm, clammy from standing by the oven for so long. If he moves next to the window, then they will cool down.
But as he goes to move, he remembers that he was doing something. His brow furrows. What was he doing again? There’s warm milk in the pan, but Kaito isn’t a fan of warm milk, so he must be making something that requires warm milk.
Hot chocolate, that’s it. He was making hot chocolate, but forgot where he left the hot chocolate powder.
It’s in one of the cupboards. But which one? Kaito stares blankly at the cupboards high on the wall. Now that he thinks about it, he knows there’s some sort of order to them. Kokichi likes things to have their own place, because it makes finding things much easier. One cupboard is for snacks, one is for cans, one is for sauces, spices and sachets, and one is for additional cookware.
The hot chocolate powder is inside a cardboard tub. Whilst it technically doesn’t fit any of the categories, Kokichi tends to place it with the sauces, spices and sachets, so if Kaito hasn’t grabbed it yet, it must be in that particular cupboard.
Kaito opens the cupboard, and, lo and behold, sitting at the front is the tub of hot chocolate powder. Kaito grabs it and heads back over to the warm milk, which will soon turn into boiling milk if he doesn’t get a move on.
Scooping a generous portion of powder, Kaito transforms the milk into hot chocolate with a few flicks of the wrist. He watches, transfixed, as the powder dissolves, turning the creamy milk chocolatey brown. He helps any leftover clumps by whisking them, stirring the liquid idly.
It’s rather peaceful at this time of the day, Kaito realises. The window is open, but there’s not much sound travelling inside. There’s the occasional low hum of a car driving by, but apart from that, that’s it. The only other noise Kaito can hear is the curtains bumping against the wall after a particularly strong breeze.
The rich aroma of hot chocolate fills the air. Kaito continues to stir the chocolatey liquid, which isn’t just quite ready yet.
Should he go back to bed after he’s finished drinking? He’s not sure. He doesn’t feel like his usual self, and feels rather awake. However, he thinks he should slip back into bed soon, where he knows it’s cosy and warm. Kaito also knows if Kokichi wakes up and discovers that he’s not where he’s supposed to be, then he’ll get out of bed and search for him. Kaito doesn’t want that to happen; Kokichi needs all the sleep he can get.
Kaito isn’t the only one who has unpleasant dreams. Sometimes Kokichi will bolt upright like a jack-in-the-box in the middle of the night, cold sweat streaming down his face, his hair sticking to his clammy skin.
It had taken Kokichi a long time to reveal to Kaito what his dreams were about. Then again, Kaito hadn’t been honest about his dreams from the start either. Kokichi’s dreams, well, more accurately, nightmares, usually involve the hydraulic press—but not always. Sometimes, his dreams include fire and murderous insects.
Even though Team Danganronpa promotes their killing games as works of fiction, all the participants still live through said works of fiction—experience every high and low like they’re the real deal. Maybe it’s easier to put people through hell if you only think of them as fictional characters. That’s the theory Kaito is sticking to, anyway.
It’s a bit of a mind fuck, actually. Team Danganronpa have all this fancy technology that allows them to alter people’s memories, but they can’t revert them back. Once their character has been brought to life—bam, that’s it. There’s no going back.
It's kind of strange that Danganronpa is allowed to be played, actually. Even though it’s all simulated, and no one actually dies, it’s still quite fucked up. Very fucked up, actually. And millions of people watch it all play out for fun.
Kaito used to be one of those people.
…Ah, he’s let himself be distracted by his thoughts again.
Kaito checks the hot chocolate. It looks fine, although a layer of skin is starting to form. Kaito quickly gives the hot chocolate another stir before it becomes unsalvagable. He then searches for something to pour it into.
Wait, he grabbed a mug earlier, right? He searches the counter, and his eyes land on the mug he selected a while back. He didn’t pick just any mug, but his favourite mug. This particular mug is rather large, and has a decently sized handle, which fits his hand perfectly. A cartoonish solar system decorates the mug, all the planets lined up correctly, starting with Mercury and ending with Neptune—although, as Kaito always points out whenever using this particular mug in front of someone, Mercury and Neptune aren’t actually next to each other in real life. But for decorative purposes, the mug is mostly accurate.
Kaito turns the hob off before grabbing his space-themed mug. Wisps of steam rises from the now finished hot chocolate. Kaito grabs the pan and goes to pour the contents into the mug and—
Is he really alive? Like, really? He vividly remembers dying, and the pain he had felt when his lungs felt like they were being squeezed and squeezed and squeezed until no air remained. The taste of blood was tangy on his tongue.
—the hot chocolate completely misses the mug, splashing onto his hand instead. It should hurt, he thinks, but it doesn’t. Dying hurts. His ears had felt clogged whilst he was taking his final breaths, which had tasted of blood. He couldn’t hear himself choking, now that he thinks about it. He knows he coughed up blood; watching it splatter on the window was the last thing he saw before he slipped down his seat and—
Steam is rising from his hand, which doesn’t make sense because the steam should be rising from the hot chocolate, which should be in his mug—but it’s not. Where did it go? He poured the hot chocolate into his mug, didn’t he?
His hand feels uncomfortable. He looks down and sees chocolatey brown milk dripping from the tips of his fingers. Ah, there’s his hot chocolate: it’s all over his hand, which is turning an alarming shade of red. That’s probably not good. Maybe he should do something about that.
His ears are clogged, which is strange because he’s not inside the rocket Monokuma built around him. He’s…
Where is he, again?
Something solid wraps around his wrist. An unseen force drags him over to the sink. The cold water is turned on and his hand is encouraged under the stream. There’s a searing pain in his hand now—how did that happen?
He was only making hot chocolate, he shouldn’t be hurt.
There’s a pale hand holding his burnt hand, which is weird because Kaito’s hands aren’t pale; they’re sun-kissed. Actually, now that he’s looking properly, the hand holding his own is much smaller, with fingernails bitten down to the quick.
The water is cold, and so is the breeze coming in from the window. Ah, that’s right, he’s in the kitchen. His ears unclog just enough for him to hear the running water—and grumbling.
“I told him to wake me up if he ever has a bad dream. But does he ever listen? No. Dumbass spaceman. I swear if this scars…”
“Kokichi? When did you wake up?”
Kokichi’s hair is a mess, and his pyjamas are crumpled. It’s obvious he’s only just gotten out of bed—or more like jumped out of bed after being startled awake. Kokichi stares at Kaito, unimpressed. “When I heard a pan fall on the floor.”
“Huh?”
Kaito looks down and, oh, the pan he was using is on the floor surrounded by spilt hot chocolate. When did that happen? Actually, how did that happen? He thought he had a tight hold of the pan. Apparently not.
Kokichi’s expression softens ever so slightly. He sighs, loosening his grip on Kaito’s wrist. “Keep this under the water—don’t move. Gonna clean up before you trip on something.”
“What is there for me to trip over?”
Kokichi’s eyebrows knit close together. He murmurs a quiet, “Don’t worry about it.”
Kaito watches the cold water hit his hand, which is starting to cool down slightly. It’s still red, and is probably going to remain that way for a few days. Why didn’t he put his hand under the sink sooner? He doesn’t want his hand to scar. He hopes no permanent damage has been done; how will he explain that to his sidekicks?
Behind him, Kokichi is mopping up his mess. Kaito listens to the sound of the mop being dragged back and forth, slurping up his hot chocolate. What’s he going to drink now? He was looking forward to that. Is there enough milk to make another? He should check—
“I said,” Kokichi suddenly says, holding Kaito’s wrist once more, guiding it back under the water, “keep your hand under the water.”
Oh, yeah. Kokichi gave him a task, and Kaito doesn’t want to let him down.
The pain begins to surface, the fog in his brain unable to mask it any longer. Oh, the pain in his hand is actually quite bad. Kaito sucks in a sharp breath, clenching his teeth. He wiggles his fingers, paranoid if he keeps them still, they’ll remain stuck forever.
Kokichi eventually returns to his side. He gently holds Kaito’s wrist, pulling his hand out of the water to quickly check it. Kokichi’s eyes narrow, evidently displeased. “I think you should keep it under for just a little longer. I don’t think you need to go to the hospital, but…”
Kaito does as he’s told. The cold water feels nice, and he thinks he wouldn’t mind standing here forever if it means letting the cool water mask his pain. He hears Kokichi shuffling around the kitchen, opening and closing cupboards, before turning the hob back on. Kaito wonders what Kokichi is up to. He could ask, but that would mean opening his mouth, and Kaito’s tongue feels like it’s been replaced with honey, sticking his words to the inside of his mouth.
“What sort of dream did you have?” Kokichi asks him, forcing Kaito back to reality. He’s by the oven, although Kaito can’t see what exactly he’s doing. Kokichi’s shoulder is moving, perhaps he’s mixing something? But what?
Kaito realises he needs to respond. He tries to get his tongue to unstick. “I was inside the rocket again.”
Kokichi doesn’t respond straight away, as if he’s thinking carefully about what he’s going to say next. Eventually, Kokichi asks, “Have you been awake for long?”
“What time is it?”
“Around midnight, I think.”
“Then I’ve been awake… for a while.”
Kokichi hums. Something sweet smelling fills the air, enveloping Kaito in the feeling of warmth. “Did you forget that I told you to wake me up if you ever have a bad dream?”
“I didn’t want to wake you up,” Kaito admits. “You’ve not been sleeping well lately, right?”
“That doesn’t matter,” Kokichi grumbles. He sounds like he’s pouting.
“I didn’t mean to scare you awake,” Kaito says. His shoulders sag as he continues to watch the water. “I don’t really know what happened. One minute I was making a drink, the next…”
“Your hand was burnt?”
Kaito nods. “Yeah.”
Kokichi appears at his side again, his expression schooled into something blank. He pulls Kaito’s hand out of the water and inspects it closely. After a few hums, Kokichi eventually says, “I don’t think you need to leave it under for any longer. Sit down—I’m gonna wrap it.”
“The first aid kit is in the bathroom,” Kaito murmurs as he heads to the dining room table, which is just behind the counter. He sits at the table wordlessly, staring at his hand the entire time.
When Kokichi returns, he places the first aid kit down on the table before rushing into the kitchen. Kaito hears the sound of a whisk being scraped against the bottom of the pan. A moment passes and then Kokichi returns.
“I’ve left the hob on the lowest setting, so the milk should be fine left unattended for a few minutes,” Kokichi says as he opens the first aid kit. He pulls out a pack of non-adhesive dressing and gestures for Kaito to show him his hand.
Kaito still isn’t used to being one of the few people who is allowed to witness Kokichi’s gentle side. In fact, when he had asked around one time, no one was able to say they’ve ever seen Kokichi being genuinely kind. Kaito isn’t sure if he should be honoured, or if he should tell Kokichi that being openly kind isn’t the same as showing weakness.
Oh well, baby steps.
Kaito winces as Kokichi wraps his hand. Kokichi’s touches are feather-light, like he’s not even touching Kaito at all. But the bandage that is wrapped around Kaito’s hand proves otherwise—evidence that Kokichi has been in contact. Even though Kokichi is clearly trying to be gentle, the pain is bad, and Kaito continues to wince involuntarily.
“Almost done,” Kokichi murmurs. His tongue is poking out of his mouth, a small slither of pink against his lips. Finally, he leans back and inspects his handiwork, nodding to himself once he’s satisfied.
Before Kaito can thank him, Kokichi is already back on his feet, heading into the kitchen area. Kaito watches him, the kitchen counter blocking the lower part of Kokichi’s body. Kokichi places two mugs on the counter—one of them being Kaito’s space mug. The other mug is covered in cats.
Kokichi pours hot chocolate into the mugs successfully, before rummaging through the fridge. He pulls out a can of whipped cream and creates a fluffy mountain of sugary delight on top of each mug. For a moment, he pauses before rummaging through the cupboards until he finds a bag of marshmallows and a bar of chocolate. He sprinkles some soft white and pink marshmallows into the whipped cream before grabbing a grater and grating twirls of chocolate alongside them.
With steady hands, Kokichi carries the drinks back to the table, placing the space-themed mug in front of Kaito. Kokichi then sits down across from Kaito, before reaching over and taking one of Kaito’s marshmallows.
“Hey—”
“Payback for not waking me up yourself,” Kokichi tells him, before grabbing another.
Kaito shields his drink with a huff. “You’ve literally got your own to eat.”
“But they always taste so much better when you take them from someone else,” Kokichi responds, a twinkle in his eye. He reaches for a third.
Kaito bats his hand away, causing Kokichi to chuckle. “Eat your own before they sink.”
“Aye aye, captain!”
As Kokichi tucks into his drink, Kaito looks down at his bandaged hand. It still hurts, but not as much as before. Kokichi didn't actually say if it was going to scar, but he also didn’t say that it would, which in Kaito’s eyes, is a good sign. Still, he can’t believe he was so careless. He really needs to stop letting his thoughts take over; he never used to be this clumsy, even when he had much more to worry about.
Kaito won’t deny that he’s become more… distracted, after waking up from Team Danganronpa’s simulation. His inability to concentrate apparently isn’t a side effect of the simulation, but rather, a side effect of participating in Danganronpa itself. Turns out living through several traumatic experiences, one right after the other, was enough to fuck up his mental health—badly. Who would’ve thought, huh?
He tries to concentrate, he really does, but it’s hard. His mind likes to wander these days, and it’s becoming harder and harder to catch up with it. He’ll be in the middle of doing something then—bam—day has turned to night, and he’s lost an entire day.
Before tonight's (or is it more accurate to say this morning’s?) incident, he thought he was getting better. He hasn’t been zoning out too badly this week, but maybe he should’ve remained more alert. Now his hand is hurt, and he really doesn’t want to tell his sidekicks and his friends why.
“So, Mercury and Neptune are super close to each other, huh?”
Kaito almost chokes. “No. Mercury is super close to the sun, whilst Neptune is the furthest planet away.”
“But your mug—”
“I mean, sure, sometimes Mercury can get close to Neptune, but it’s not often. Mercury moves super fast ‘cause it’s so close to the sun. Hey, did you know it takes Mercury 88 Earth days to orbit the sun?” Kaito pictures Mercury whizzing around the sun at an alarming speed.
Kokichi drops his chin into a cupped hand. “What about Neptune?”
“Oh, it takes Neptune years to complete an orbit. That’s because it’s so far away.”
“So if it’s the furthest, does that mean it’s the coldest?”
Kaito shakes his head, his eyes finding the correct planet on his mug. “No, that’s Uranus—don’t laugh!” He narrows his eyes at Kokichi, unimpressed. “Asshole. You set me up, didn’t you?”
“Are you saying I knew from the start that Uranus is the coldest planet?”
Kaito’s jaw locks as he thinks. He talks about space a lot, so there’s no doubt he’s probably brought up this fact before—meaning yes, Kokichi most likely already knows that Uranus is the coldest planet, and is being an asshole for no reason.
“Yeah, I am,” Kaito says. He takes a long sip of his hot chocolate, staring Kokichi dead in the eye the entire time. Damn it, the hot chocolate tastes exquisite—divine, even. How is he supposed to remain mad at someone who made him such a delicious drink?
“I see,” Kokichi responds. He lifts his drink to his lips before casually saying, “I also know that the Sun is the hottest planet.”
“The sun is a fucking star!” Kaito glares daggers into Kokichi, who decides to take a very, very, very long sip of his drink, a smug glint in his eyes. “Venus is the hottest planet. Venus.”
Kokichi finally places his cup down. “Hey, Kaito? Do you know what rhymes with Venus—”
Kaito brings his fingers close to each other—practically touching. “Kokichi, I am this close to losing my shit.”
“Good for you,” Kokichi chirps. “By the way, are you back down to Earth again? You sound like it.”
Kaito blinks. He’s aware that he’s in his kitchen—well, their kitchen; Kokichi owns and lives in this apartment too. He also knows that Kokichi is sitting across from him, ruining the solar system one childish joke at a time. He also, also knows that he’s drinking a very nice mug of hot chocolate, made by Kokichi: the asshole who he shares a past, present and future with.
“If you’re not, I’m sure I’ve got some more jokes up my sleeve,” Kokichi says. “But maybe I’ll save them for when we’re drinking… gravi-tea.”
Kaito wants to be angry, wants to scream from the rooftops that space isn’t a joke, but he finds himself snorting before he can stop himself. As he turns away, his face red, he decides maybe he’s glad he woke Kokichi up after all. Maybe space puns aren’t so bad—as long as they are told once in a blue moon.